#so that way i can refer and/or turn to the post about the wips and the dates i started in each wips as proof

[jasonntodd]

.

[solarmorrigan]

I'm late, I'm sorry, but here's the full fic from this WIP post yesterday!

[CW: bullying, references to canon racism and violence, mentions of recreational drug use]

-

Steve makes it to the bathroom down the hall from the shop classroom—the one that’s far from the cafeteria and always empty during lunch, where people really only come to smoke, anyway—before he completely loses his shit.

“Son of a bitch!” He’s almost screaming as he hauls off and punches the wall of one of the bathroom stalls, putting every ounce of anger and frustration and humiliation into it, hitting it so hard that the whole construction rattles.

“Motherfucker,” he hisses, shaking his hand out, because it had hurt, and then he winds up to do it again, to make it hurt more, because at least he’s in control of that much, at least it’s anything but what he’s feeling right now.

“That’s a good way to break your hand, y’know,” a voice comes from the doorway, startling Steve into pivoting and aiming his fist at whoever is coming after him now.

He stops short when he sees nobody but Eddie goddamn Munson standing there, cringing into a startled flinch to protect his head as Steve nearly swings at him.

“Jesus shit,” Steve barks, dropping his fist and stepping back, shaky with adrenaline. “You walk like a fucking ghost, Munson.”

Munson peeks out of his defensive crouch before straightening up and sending a meaningful glance at the stall wall. “Somehow, I don’t think you would’ve heard me even if I was making all the noise in the world.”

Steve shrugs, his shoulders staying up near his ears in a defensive slouch. He can feel something dropping out of his hair and down the side of his face, and he feels the humiliation all over again as he tries to swipe it away.

“What do you want?” he asks, beyond caring if he sounds rude; he thinks he’s entitled, considering.

This time, Munson shrugs, a rolling, casual thing that belies the sharp look in his eyes. “Came to see if you were okay, I guess.”

Steve snorts. Is he okay?

Like, in the grand scheme of things, the answer is a really shaky “maybe.” But lately? It’s more of a resounding “no, not fucking really.”

Aside from everything else – aside from the nightmares, aside from the headaches, aside from the fact he’d had to drop basketball after his concussion, aside from having no real friends or allies at school now that he and Nancy aren’t together – aside from all that, there’s Billy fucking Hargrove.

Hargrove, who had taken all of a month to start pushing Steve’s buttons again. Who had taken less than a few days after that to realize that Steve wasn’t going to push back.

And then he’d started looking for the boundary line, pushing and pushing, shoulder-checking Steve in the hall, tripping him in the single class they share, knocking shit out of his hands, shoving him when his back is turned, all the while spitting names and insults, until it had culminated into today’s fiasco: dumping a carton of chocolate milk over the top of Steve’s head in the middle of the cafeteria with a deeply unconvincing “oops.”

It had gone dead silent, every eye in the room on Steve’s red face and Hargrove’s triumphant grin, while Steve had only been able to stand there, shaking with startled rage as milk had sluiced out of his hair and seeped into his collar and down the back of his shirt, knowing that he couldn’t retaliate.

He couldn’t.

He’d marched out of the cafeteria, shame and anger growing as voices had bloomed up behind him, already gossiping and speculating.

So, no, actually, he’s not really okay.

But instead of saying any of this to Munson, he just scoffs and turns away, looking towards the sinks.

“Wouldn’t have expected you to care,” he says, injecting as much lazy indifference into his voice as he can, trying to armor up the way he used to. “The number of speeches you’ve given about how much me and my group suck, I’d have figured you’d be the first to say I deserved it.”

Munson doesn’t say anything for a moment, and Steve doesn’t look back to see if the barb landed. He doesn’t really care, he just wants the guy to go away so Steve can finish his meltdown and clean up in peace.

“Not your group anymore, though,” Munson finally says.

Steve shrugs, pulling a wad of paper towels from the dispenser; might as well move on to cleanup if Munson isn’t going to fuck off. He guesses his little breakdown can wait until he gets home.

“Hasn’t been for over a year, now, right?” Munson goes on. Steve says nothing, using a dry paper towel to try to blot up the mess. “And whatever you were like then, you’re… less like that now. Like, anyone paying attention can see you’re kinda trying something new this year.”

Steve ignores the way that makes something catch in his throat. “Thanks for the endorsement,” he drawls. “I’ll put it on my college apps: Not as much of an asshole as I used to be.”

“It’s a start,” Munson says, and Steve glances up in time to see him shrug in the mirror.

“I guess,” Steve mutters.

“And, uh – hey, I grabbed your stuff,” Munson says, holding up the binder and notebooks that Steve’s attention had glossed over until now. “Some of it’s kinda… milky, sorry.”

Steve blinks. “Uh. Thank you,” he says, stunned for a moment into sincerity.

Munson shrugs again, putting Steve’s stuff up on the narrow shelf on the wall that no one ever uses to hold things because it’s probably never been cleaned. Not like Steve’s stuff is clean now, anyway.

Steve turns back to the sink, wetting a few of the paper towels and waiting to see if Munson is going to leave now.

“What I can’t figure out–” nope, apparently he’s staying, “–is why you’re in here punching the wall, instead of out there, punching Hargrove.”

At least that makes more sense; he’s here out of curiosity, not concern.

“I mean, most people would’ve hit him for that,” Munson goes on. “I would’ve.”

But Steve’s already shaking his head before Munson’s finished speaking. “Not worth it,” he says firmly.

“What, afraid of a little suspension?” Munson asks, almost teasing. “Pretty sure the school would let their golden boy off with a slap on the wrist.”

“Not anybody’s golden boy anymore,” Steve snaps, scrubbing a wet paper towel through his hair in a vain attempt to get some of the rapidly-drying milk out. “I dropped basketball, remember? Didn’t even go in for swimming this year.”

“Oh, yeah,” Munson says, like he’d genuinely forgotten. “Sorry, not really into the whole… sports scene. Like, at all.”

Steve shrugs. “Whatever. Not important. I don’t give a shit about being suspended. I don’t even care if he hits me back. Not like I need another knock to the head at this point, but – whatever.” Steve shakes his head. “It’s just that he could– there are other things he could do.”

In the mirror, Munson’s eyebrows go up. “What, does he have blackmail on you or some shit?”

Steve raises his brows right back. “If he did, do you really think I’d tell you?”

Munson tips his head to the side. “Yeah, okay, fair enough.”

“Anyway, he doesn’t have blackmail, he has… leverage, I guess.” Steve lets out a harsh sigh and gives up on his hair for now, wetting a paper towel to try to get some of the milk off his face and neck, instead.

“…are you allowed to tell me what that is?” Munson asks after a moment.

And for a moment, Steve thinks about it. The only people in school who really know are Nancy and Jonathan, and he’s asked them to follow his lead in just – not talking about it. He hasn’t told anybody any version of what happened in the Byers’ house, or why Billy seems to have made him his personal stress ball. But who the hell would Munson tell? All his nerdy friends in his game club?

(No, no, that’s not fair. Steve doesn’t even know those people, and he’s trying not to be that guy anymore. He doesn’t have to be nice, but he shouldn’t be unkind.)

(The point stands, though – who would Munson even tell?)

“Do you know why Hargrove beat my face in back in November?” Steve finally asks, avoiding Munson’s eyes in the mirror by focusing very hard on getting the tacky milk off his hairline.

“Well, I’ve heard most of the rumors by now, I think. Heard Hargrove’s version of events, as has pretty much everyone, I’m sure. Haven’t heard yours, though,” Munson says, his voice tilting up in interest. “I just figured it was because he hated you.”

Steve lets out a humorless laugh. “Yeah, well, you’re not wrong. But also…” He pauses for a moment, collecting his thoughts. “There are these kids I babysit. Sort of.”

“Sort of?” Munson presses.

“Well, most of the time it feels like they’re just ordering me around like a bunch of entitled shitheads. But I make sure they get where they’re going without, like, disappearing, and that they don’t have so much unsupervised time that they manage to get themselves killed,” Steve admits.

“Uh huh,” Munson says; he sounds… a little confused, but not disbelieving. “And you ended up with this gig, how?”

“It’s Nancy’s little brother, and his little nerd friends,” Steve says (he’s allowed to call them nerds because he knows them, and it’s true. And besides, it’s affectionate).

“Aaand you’re still doing it now? Even though you and Wheeler aren’t…”

Steve shrugs. “They grew on me. But that’s– that’s not the point. One of the kids is, uh. Hargrove’s stepsister. And the night me and Hargrove got into it, I guess she wasn’t supposed to be out.”

“Ah,” Munson says.

“Yeah.” Steve sighs, giving up on the milk as a bad job; he probably should’ve run off to the gym showers instead of a shitty bathroom. He turns and leans back against the sink, crossing his arms over his chest and staring at the floor near Munson’s scuffed sneakers. “So he came looking for her.”

“So… Not that I’m advocating handing over children to pieces of shit like him, but – like, wouldn’t it have been the technically correct thing to do, to send her home with what is legally a family member?” Munson asks.

Steve passes a hand over his face. “She was terrified,” he says quietly, feeling a little like he’s betraying Max’s trust by saying it out loud, by saying it to a stranger. “She was terrified of what he would do if he found her there, where she wasn’t supposed to be. Terrified of what he would do to one of the other kids if he caught them together, since he’d specifically warned her to stay away from him.”

“What’s wrong with this other kid?” Munson asks, brows furrowed.

“Nothing,” Steve bites out. “He’s smart, and he’s brave, and he’s, like, slightly less of an asshole than some of the others, but what Hargrove cared about is that he’s black.”

“You’re fucking kidding me,” Munson snaps, and Steve’s hackles raise, ready to defend his kid all over again if he has to, but before he can get anything else out, Munson goes on. “We already knew he was a racist piece of shit, but – a fucking kid?”

Steve subsides. “Yeah. A fucking kid. So I told them all to stay inside and I went out to try to head him off. Or at least keep him out of the house. Which, obviously, I failed at.” He lets out a derisive little laugh, aimed solely at himself. “He knocked me on my ass, knocked the wind out of me, got past me– and by the time I was able to get up, he was already– he was inside, and he had that kid by the collar, up against the wall– one of my fucking kids–” Steve breaks off, the same rage and terror from that night choking up in his throat again. After the day he’s had, his emotions are all too close to the surface, too near to bubbling out, and he rubs at his nose, trying to stave off the angry, exhausted tears he can feel pricking at the corners of his eyes. “So I decked him.”

“Good!” Munson exclaims, and for a moment Steve actually manages a real smile.

“Yeah,” he says. “Then he hit me back, which, like, obviously. I was expecting him to, but– I mean, I might’ve actually won that fight if the fucker hadn’t hit me in the head with a plate.”

The expression that crosses Munson’s face is almost comically shocked. “What?”

“Yeah,” Steve says again, running a hand over his jaw, thumbing almost unconsciously at the still-fading scar where the porcelain had sliced him open. “I’m a little fuzzy on shit after that. Like, I remember being on the floor, and him kneeling over me, and hitting me, and hitting me, and then– I dunno, nothing.”

Distantly, Steve realizes that the expression on Munson’s face has turned from ‘comically shocked’ to ‘mildly horrified,’ but he’s a little too lost in the blurry memory of that night to do much about it.

“Holy shit, how are you not dead?” Munson blurts out.

He looks like he immediately regrets asking, but Steve finds he’s actually grateful for the question. He’s glad to move the conversation along.

“Max.” He smirks over at Eddie. “Hargrove’s stepsister. I guess she, uh– threatened him with a baseball bat? Saved my ass.”

That’s a deep over-simplification, but Steve can’t think of a way to explain the presence of heavy sedatives in the Byers’ house, and, anyway, she had threatened him with a baseball bat. The kids had all taken great joy in reenacting the way Max had nearly neutered Hargrove with the nailbat, actually; it’s almost like Steve had been there (and conscious).

“Holy shit,” Munson says, and whichever part he’s referring to, Steve is inclined to agree.

“Yep. So I was out fucking cold at the time, but the kids all insist that she got him to agree to leave her and her friends alone, but…” Steve shakes his head. “Hargrove is a fucking psychopath. I don’t trust him to keep that promise. So, at least if he’s focused on me, he might leave her alone. But if I hit back…”

“You think he’ll retaliate by going after one of your kids,” Munson says, only a hint of teasing in his words at the end.

“I know he will,” Steve says; Hargrove had implied as much more than once. He crosses his arms back over his chest. “And they are my kids.”

Munson throws his hands up, as if in surrender, but he’s definitely smiling now.

“I’m serious,” Steve insists, close to smiling himself. “They think I’m stuck with them, but they’re the ones stuck with me.”

“Lucky them,” Munson says, and– what?

“What?” Steve asks.

“Look, you’re either a better actor than, like, everyone in the drama club, or you at least seriously believe what you told me, which is more than I can say for Hargrove and whatever shit he came up with about the two of you getting into it over… what, his car was better than yours? He’s better at laundry ball? I don’t fucking remember, and it doesn’t really matter, because it was clearly and pathetically fabricated,” Munson says with an authoritative nod. “You, at the very least, really give a shit about those kids. So, yeah. Lucky them.”

“Well,” Steve scrambles for a moment, trying to cover the way he actually feels like he might start fucking blushing, “if I’d known all I had to do to change your mind about me was tell you about a fight I lost, I’d have done it ages ago.”

And now Munson’s back to smirking at him. “Seeking my esteem that badly, Harrington?”

“What? No. I mean – not– not specifically yours, it’s just… like, there’s not really an easy or fast way to make up for being kind of a dick for the last… while.” Steve runs his hand through his hair, stopping with a grimace when he remembers the drying milk. “You just have to keep not being a dick and hope people give you a chance. So, like, compared to that, convincing you was easy.”

“And all you had to do was get a severe concussion first,” Munson drawls.

Steve rolls his eyes. “I didn’t say it was severe.”

“You got hit with a plate,” Munson deadpans, and Steve can’t quite help the resulting flinch, at which Munson almost immediately softens. “Sorry.”

Steve shakes his head. “It’s fine.”

Mouth screwed to the side, Munson eyes Steve for a moment, glancing over his shirt and up to his face before gesturing at him. “You want some help with that?”

Steve blinks at him. “What?”

“Your whole… hair situation. You could bend ov– like, you could lean over the sink and I could, uh. Try to rinse it for you. Or whatever,” Munson offers, awkward but apparently sincere.

It sounds like a stupid as hell way to try to rinse his hair. The sinks are small, and not exactly high off the ground; Steve would have better luck just going to the locker room and showering it all out. His soap is there, too, and an extra shirt.

On the other hand, Steve really doesn’t feel like leaving the bathroom yet. He’s pretty sure lunch is going to end soon, and encountering everyone during passing period sounds like a nightmare. In here, with Munson, it’s quiet. It feels almost safe.

“Yeah, sure,” Steve finally says, and Munson looks nearly shocked that he’s accepted.

Credit to him, though: he doesn’t back out. He just slides his jacket off, tosses it up over the wall of one of the bathroom stalls, rolls up his sleeves, and gestures for Steve to lean over the sink.

“Hot or cold?” he asks, going for the taps.

“Hot,” Steve answers immediately; he doesn’t need any other cold liquid on his head today.

“Hm.”

“What?”

“Nothing,” Munson says airily, turning on the water. “You just kinda strike me as a cold shower guy. Like, up at dawn, go for a run, take a cold shower – all that weird jock shit.”

It isn’t intended to mock, Steve realizes as Munson tests the water temperature—the school pipes take forever to heat up—but to tease. It’s a joke, and Steve is invited in on it. And anyway, it’s… actually kind of close to the mark, so Steve doesn’t say anything at all for a moment as he puts his head as close to the faucet as he can get it and Munson places one cupped hand over the back of his neck and uses the other to scoop water over Steve’s hair.

“Cold water is better for your hair. Not that you’d know anything about that.” Steve finally says, hoping that his own teasing tone carries even with the way he has to raise his voice to be heard over the running water.

Luckily, Munson sounds amused when he answers. “Oh! Shots fucking fired. I see how it is!” Even as he’s pretending at being offended, his fingers stay gentle against Steve’s scalp as he tries to scrub out the dried mess, and Steve fights very, very hard not to shudder.

He can’t remember when the last time someone touched him with gentle intent was. Maybe he’d gotten a hug from Dustin last week?

Shit, that’s fucking pathetic.

He tries even harder not to lean into the touch, into the surprisingly kind hands on the back of his neck and on his scalp, tries hard not to act like some kind of touch-starved weirdo and make Munson regret offering to help.

The irony of the fact that Steve is trying not to act like a freak in front of Eddie Munson is not lost on him.

After another couple of minutes of Munson manipulating Steve’s head this way and that, doing his best to be thorough, he lets Steve go entirely and shuts the water off.

“That’s probably as good as I’m gonna be able to get it,” he says, pushing another handful of paper towels at Steve as he stands up.

“Better than I could’ve done here,” Steve says with a shrug, rubbing the paper towels over his hair and grimacing as he can feel it frizzing in about a hundred different directions.

When he finishes, he turns to look in the mirror, watching in real time as it droops over his forehead and tickles at his wet shirt collar. Munson stands next to him, watching without judgement, but with what feels like an inappropriate amount of fascination.

“Well, I’m not going to lie to you,” Munson says at last, “you look a little like a sad, wet dog.”

Steve’s eyes snap to Munson with a glare. “Gee, thanks.”

“Some people are into that!” Munson insists, holding his hands up placatingly. “That droopy aesthetic, with the big, brown puppy eyes. Someone might just wanna scoop you up and take you home to take care of you. It’s a thing.��

Do you want to? – the question comes immediately and unbidden to Steve’s head, and he quickly shakes it away. They might be on amiable terms right now, teasing each other a little, but he isn’t sure that wouldn’t be a bridge too far.

(He isn’t even sure it is teasing. For a moment, he’d had the genuine urge to ask.)

“Anyway, I think most of the mess is out of your hair, but I’m pretty sure your shirt is toast,” Munson goes on, gesturing to the brown stain around the collar, over one shoulder, and probably down the back.

If he’d been wearing a darker color today, it might’ve been alright, but of course today he’d chosen light blue. Steve sighs, plucking at the front of the shirt. If he can’t salvage it, he might as well ditch it; it’s getting uncomfortably stiff and tacky with the dried milk, and he’d honestly rather stick it out in his undershirt for as long as it takes him to get to the locker room than walk around with evidence of Hargrove’s little stunt all over him.

He untucks the shirt and yanks it over his head, no need to be careful of his hair, emerging from the depths of it to find Munson staring at him in a stunned sort of silence.

“What?” Steve asks. “If it’s wrecked, anyway, I might as well get rid of it. I’ve got a spare shirt in my gym locker I can go grab.”

Munson blinks at him, almost like he’s trying to clear his head. “Or!” he practically shouts – possibly louder than he meant to, since he continues more quietly, “Or, you could just ditch for the rest of the day. I mean, you have any particularly interesting classes after lunch you feel the need to attend?”

“Not really,” Steve admits with a huff of a laugh. “But leaving after that feels a little like– letting Hargrove win. Like I’m retreating or some shit.”

“Nah, don’t think of it like that.” Munson tosses an arm over Steve shoulders, waving his other in front of both of them, like he’s trying to show Steve a grand vision and they aren’t both just staring at the ugly tile on the bathroom wall. “Think of it as cutting class and getting free weed from Hawkins High’s most esteemed dealer.”

Steve turns to look at Munson, staring at him more closely than he’s ever had reason to, and realizing there are tiny freckles on his face. “What, seriously?”

“Sure.” Munson shrugs. “Lemme smoke you out, Harrington. Seems like a good way to let your stress go for a bit – though I am just a little biased.”

“Why?” Steve asks; he doesn’t understand the sudden turn this day has taken, the sudden and bizarre kindness offered that he doesn’t even know what he’s done to deserve.

Munson’s eyes slide away from Steve, though his arm notably stays draped over his shoulders. “Been where you are. It’s not great. And, I mean, if it had happened last year, then, admittedly, I probably wouldn’t have given as much of a shit. Jock on jock violence, whatever. But you,” he glances back at Steve, “you’re genuinely trying to be, like, a good person. And I don’t think you should be punished for that. I think, in fact, that you could probably use a friend.”

“I…” The words stick in Steve’s throat, because what the hell can he even say to that? On anyone else, Steve would have assumed an ulterior motive, but Munson had infused it with so much awkward sincerity that Steve can’t help but realize it’s probably the nicest thing anyone’s said or offered to do for him in… he’s not even sure how long.

His silence must stretch on a little too long, though, because the hopeful light in Munson’s eyes fades a bit, and he begins to slide his arm off of Steve’s shoulder. “Or, y’know, you can tell me to fuck off, because I’m, like, way overstepping some boundaries, and–”

“We should go to my place,” Steve blurts, while grabbing Munson’s wrist for some insane reason.

“What?” Munson blinks over at him, (understandably) startled.

“My place. We should go there to smoke. If you still want to.” Steve could cringe for how stilted the whole thing is coming out. “I want to be able to take a real shower.”

Munson stares at him for a moment longer before laying a hand over his heart with a gasp, suddenly leaning heavily into Steve’s side and forcing Steve to wrap an arm around his waist so they don’t both lose their balance.

“I see how it is!” Munson gasps dramatically. “My sink shower just wasn’t good enough!”

Steve holds in a laugh. “Your sink shower was… fine. But I’ve got milk dried in other uncomfortable places, so unless you want to wash my back for me, too, we should go back to mine.”

Munson’s gaze snaps back to Steve, something a little odd in it, and – oh. Oh, that hadn’t sounded quite like Steve had meant it. It had sounded a little like an offer of the kind you don’t go around making to just anybody.

Steve braces himself, waiting for the reaction (he doubts if Munson would get any kind of physical, but there will probably be an awkward pulling away and sudden remembering of something he has to do literally anywhere else that afternoon), but all Munson does is break into a sly smile and say, “I could, but I’d have to charge you extra.”

Steve can’t help it: he laughs, giving Munson a good-natured shove, who finally releases Steve but doesn’t stumble more than a couple of steps away.

“Meet you at my place?” Steve offers, balling up his shirt and dropping it on top of his notebooks as he grabs them from the shelf. “Half an hour?”

“Wouldn’t miss it.” Munson gives him a corny little salute before grabbing his jacket from over the stall wall and preceding Steve to the bathroom door.

“Munson,” Steve finds himself calling out, just as the other boy’s hand closes around the door handle; Munson glances back and Steve fights the urge to look away. “Uh. Thanks. For, like… yeah. Thanks.”

Whatever meaning Munson takes out of Steve’s absolutely eloquent verbal vomit of gratitude, it makes him smile. “No need for thanks, man,” he says. “I’m honestly a little surprised to say it, but the pleasure was definitely mine.”

And then he disappears out the door, leaving Steve in the bathroom wondering how the hell his day had taken this turn, and just what destination it’s leading him to.

And thinking that he’s honestly a little excited to find out.

[nereidprinc3ss]

behave

in which fem!reader REALLY wants spencer's attention while he's working

18+ (no smut but sex is talked about) warnings: mentions of sex, spencer grabs readers wrist to stop her from doing something but its not violent, reader is referred to as a girl, no use of y/n, um i think that's it WC: 870 a/n: i have damn near 40 pages of spencer WIP so im biting the bullet and posting some of it. also.. if you want a plot... babe this is not the place for you im sorry... ive never even heard of a plot actually. i dont know about rising and falling action... i dont believe in that. it sounds fake

It feels like Spencer has been at his desk for hours. 

And for hours you've been lounging on the couch, reading your book in silence so as to let him work. But you're becoming... antsy. Impatient. Every time you drop your book and stare at him, willing your white-hot gaze to draw his attention; nothing. He just keeps shuffling papers, signing, writing, reading reading reading. 

At ten, you give up.  

You make a show of slamming your book shut, sighing, slowly sitting up, stretching, standing, stretching again--when you turn your head, expecting your little performance to have at least earned a look from him; still, nothing. 

"Spence?" you ask, innocuously, as you round the couch and draw toward him carefully, slowly, on light feet. A display of faux innocence. It’s not that you intend to bother him, per se--you're just so bored. 

He hums in response, eyes still glued to his work as he searches for something among the mess of paper. 

You come to a stop in front of the mahogany desk, tracing the edge of it idly with wandering fingertips. 

"What are you looking at?" you ask, in reference to a photo he seems to now be studying intently.  

"Nothing you need to see," is his muttered response, quickly flipping the photo face down on the desk and picking up a form walled in migraine-inducing tiny black text. You watch the way he scans the paper, brow knitted, and eyes squinted, clearly not paying you very much attention. 

You move languidly around the desk, letting the wood drag against your hip the whole way, before reaching for the overturned photo--just to see what he'll do. 

Spencer catches your wrist, his grip gentle and warm but not without portent. "What did I just say, grabby?" 

Sadly, they're the most words you've gotten out of him since this afternoon. 

You sigh dramatically and drape yourself across his lap, looping your arms around his neck. To your initial satisfaction he shifts slightly to accommodate you--and then continues to look over your shoulder like he hardly notices the pretty girl on top of him. 

"When will you be done?" you purr, tracing his jaw with a finger.

"I'll be done when I'm done." 

God, he can be stubborn. 

"Can you be done any sooner than that?" 

"What do you think I'm going to say to that," comes his flat reply, still not sparing you a glance. You watch enviously as his eyes dart down the paper he's reading over your shoulder.  

"Then I'm staying right here until you're finished." 

"You can stay here if you can behave." 

You scoff, bunching the fabric on the back of his shirt in your fists. "What do you mean, if I can behave?" 

Finally, you hear Spencer set down his pen, and he leans back in his chair to regard you. His gaze finally on you is like an ice bath. You literally have to repress the urge to shiver under his evaluation; the slightly raised eyebrows, the line of his mouth a little harder than usual. His 'you know exactly what I'm talking about so don't play dumb' look. 

For a few tense seconds, you let your eyes dart between his, not wanting to break first. Unfortunately, you think that look of his could freeze saltwater.  

"Fine," you mutter, flushing when you look down at his shirt collar instead. If you're being reasonable, he probably is doing something important. You drag your gaze back up to his and see that his eyes have softened. 

"Thank you," he says, gentler, squeezing your leg before running his hand over it back and forth a few times. "I know I'm not being very fun today. When I'm done we can do whatever you want to do." 

The urge to say, 'whatever I want to do?' is strong, but you manage to bite your tongue as he reaches back over you to continue his work. Instead, you content yourself to lean against him, allowing his solidity and warmth to envelop you for some immeasurable stretch of time.  

Rain starts up, battering the windowpane and accented by deep rolls of thunder. The scratch of Spencer's pen on paper, the rustle of files, and the scent of patchouli and amber begins to lull you into a doze--a comfortable place between awake and asleep. It's the kind of comatose unconsciousness that bends and liquifies time, and you don’t even realize you fell asleep until you’re waking up. 

Spencer murmurs your name, brushing your hair carefully out of your face. "Did you fall asleep, angel?" His voice is soft, just above a whisper.  

"Mhm," you groan, rubbing your eyes. "How long has it been?" 

"A few hours," he sighs. "That file took a lot longer than it should have, I'm sorry." 

You're still bleary as you speak next; 

"The thing was sex." 

"What?" he laughs, rubbing your leg as you adjust yourself in his lap. 

"You said we could do whatever I wanted to do when you were done, and it was sex. But now I'm tired." 

"Let's get you to bed," he begins, "and revisit the sex idea in the morning. Does that work for you?" 

You smile against his shirt, eyes already fluttering closed again. 

"Mhm..." 

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

As the World Turns 2

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon, manipulation, imbalanced power dynamics, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your new job takes you to new places with lots of new people.

Characters: Nick Fowler, Jonathan Pine, Lloyd Hansen

Note: I know I shouldn’t have done this.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

“I might hear you out,” Mr. Hansen, or Lloyd, sits back as he slurps from a rounded class of cognac, “as long as you bring this pretty little thing along tomorrow.” 

You chew quietly on a piece of lettuce and look around. You search the table for whatever he means, confused by the statement. Your eyes flick up to meet his and you gulp, realising he’s referring to you. Oh.  

He called you pretty but it just feels off. You give a tight-lipped smile and reach for your sparkling water. He brings his hand over the top to stop you as Fowler sighs. 

“She’ll keep the minutes,” your boss grumbles. 

“How about some wine, baby face?” Lloyd leans forward. 

“Uh, I don’t drink, thanks,” you answer sheepishly. You’d already told him as much but it hasn’t kept him from offering more than once. 

“Boring,” he mutters and retracts his hand. “Gonna be a long vacation if you don’t loosen up.” 

“She’s not on vacation, she’s working,” Fowler girds as he tosses his napkin on his plate. “You’re really gonna drag this out, aren’t you?” 

“Drag what out?” Lloyd winks as he sits back, gripping one leg as his other sways. 

“The deal.” 

“You gotta wine and dine before you get between my thighs,” the other man taunts. “What’s for dessert?” 

Fowler exhales slowly, jaw tense as he eyes the other man. You glance between them then over your shoulder. Maybe the server could bring the dessert menu. 

“You know I don’t sleep well in a strange land without someone to keep me warm--” 

“Cut it out,” Fowler warns his acquaintance harshly, “we got an early morning.” 

His chair scrapes as he stands, drawing your attention back to the table. You feel like you might wilt as you meet the heat of Lloyd’s fervent gaze. He has an elbow beside his plate, his glass in his hand as he hovers it before his mouth and stares. He sips then pokes out his tongue in a way that makes you nervous. 

Your wide eyes skirt over to your boss and you push yourself from your chair. 

“Just like you to cut the fun short--” 

“I was on a plane half the day, I don’t have the energy for you,” Fowler takes out his wallet and drops a wad of bills on the plate, “dinner’s on me.” 

“And I’d like dessert on me,” Lloyd harrumphs and drains his glass, slamming it down on the stem as he lets out a heavy sigh. He stands and tugs at his belt without shame. You sidle away and push the chair in, staying close to your boss. 

“We’ll talk more. I’m not leaving without a deal, Hansen.” 

“We’ll see about that,” Lloyd slaps his chest and stifles a belch behind his fist, “guess I'll hit the massage parlour again.” He rolls his neck and winks at you, “stiff from the flight.” 

“Come on,” Fowler ignores whatever inference his colleague makes and spins on his heel, then gestures to you, “let’s get going.” 

“Oh, uh, yes, sir,” you turn to follow. 

“Mmm, yes, sir,” Lloyd mimics in a purr as you prance off. 

You tap out next to your boss as he checks his watch. He raises his hands to swipe over his face and hair. He must be just as tired as you. Your excitement has dwindled to a low thrum and you’re ready to keel over. 

“I want my coffee at six. Got it?” He demands. 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Call the front desk, have them send breakfast too. We’ll be heading off early.” 

“Yes, sir,” you echo again, barely keeping up with his fast march. 

“And wear a dress,” he says. 

Again, you affirm his command. 

He stops before a pair of double doors; wood carve in intricate patterns. He faces you and exhales, “do not fuck Hansen.” 

You’re stunned by the suggestion. You raise your brows and let your mouth fall open. You sputter and shake your head, “s-sir--” 

“Just don’t,” he warns. “Flirt with him but nothing more. Trust me.” 

“I wouldn’t--” 

“I’m not asking about your preferences, I’m giving you an order,” he turns to the door and reaches into his pocket, pulling out his card, “good night.” 

“Oh, er, good night, sir,” you back off awkwardly, still scalding from his assumption. 

You click down the hall in your shoes and frown. Does he really think you would do that? He said himself, you’re on a business trip. Sure, Lloyd was forward and unfocused but you didn’t encourage him at all. To be fair, you didn’t catch half of what he meant. 

You get to your room and stop, feeling around your clothing as your heart drops. Oh no! You can see the cards in your mind, sitting on the table inside the hotel room. Oh, gosh, you’re so stupid. 

You turn and face the hallway behind you. Of course you would lock yourself out. For everything that went so smoothly on your first trip abroad, something was bound to go wrong. Well, you’d rather this than be stranded in the middle of no where. 

You push away from the door and stroll back down the hall. You find your way back to the lobby. It's eerily empty as you peer around. The high ceilings are centered by a grand chandelier and the panels between the skylight panes are painted with elaborate patterns. The night peers down at your lone entrance, making the echo of your steps even more desolate.  

You go to the counter and raise your hand over the bell, wary of disturbing the peace. You tap it lightly but the ding is deafening. You wince and cry out as a body pops up from behind the counter like a jack-in-a-box. 

“Eek,” you touch your chest as the manager appears like an apparition. 

“Pardon me,” he puts his hands on the counter, “I was only just sorting through some things. Didn't mean to startle you.” 

“No, it's…it's fine,” you giggle as your fear dissipates, “I didn't expect such a quick response.” 

“Always at your service, miss,” he address you by your last name. You're flattered he remembers you. “And so I must ask how I can be of assistance.” 

“Right, er, this is kinda embarrassing,” you scrunch up your lips and look at the wall, “I locked my keys in my room.” 

“Ah, well, that's not the end of the world,” he waves away your worry.

You notice his jacket is disposed, folded over the unusued chair on it's tall legs, and his shirt sleeves are rolled to his elbows. He must be used to solitary nights.

“I'll come let you in.”  He reaches to his belt to pull out a white card, “now this is your first wish, you've only two more after.” 

You furrow your brow curiously and he gives an awkward grin, “a joke, of course. This genie does not count favours.” 

“Uh, thanks,” you murmur. 

He comes out from behind the desk and gestures you to come with him. You catch up as he strides breezily across the lobby. Your eyes wander the extravagant interior and you drift off in your imagination. What it must be like to work here every day. 

“And are you enjoying your time abroad thus far?” Jonathan asks. 

You snap back to the present and chuckle nervously, “sure, I... it’s nice so far but I haven’t been here very long.” 

“Mm, yes, well I do hope you find time among your business to explore. If you have an questions, I’d be happy to answer. I even have a few recommendations if you’re interested,” he offers. 

“Oh, thanks so much,” you swallow a yawn and flutter your lashes. He glances over at you as he strides on. 

“And did you enjoy the restaurant?” He prompts. 

“Uh yes, the food was delicious,” you chime. 

“I will let the chef know you said so,” he remarks, “if you are interested in the local cuisine, there is a shop not far from here which is a touch more genuine. Though I must warn you it is spicy fare.” 

“I love spice,” you smile blink long as another yawn nestles at the base of your throat. 

“Well, you will let me know when you try it if you like it,” he nears your door and brings the car up to slide through the slot, “you must be terrible exhausted.” 

He pushes the door open and holds it with his long arm, “just a little,” you agree, “thanks so much.” 

“Never to worry, these things happen,” he assures, “the nights are lonely and I don’t mind the task.” 

You smile as you step under his arm and turn in the doorway, “have a good night.” 

“You too, darling,” he returns, “be sure to put your key somewhere you won’t forget.” 

“Oh, yes, thank you,” you bounce on your feet and grab the door handle. 

He lets go and you shut the door gently. You give a big yawn and face the room. Thankfully, you left the lamp on. You leave your shoes by the door and rub your eyes as you stagger forward. You take out your phone to check your alarms and set it a bit earlier. You won’t be getting much sleep. 

🌍

You have Mr. Fowler’s coffee in hand as you stroll up to his door. You double-checked at the counter to make sure you didn’t misremember. You check your watch as you approach. Ten to six. You’re early. He’ll be impressed. He’s not very fond of lateness though you’re yet to test that yourself. 

You’ve done pretty well. You got yourself up, with help from a freezing cold shower to keep your eyes open, and you look pretty good. A peachy orange blouse and a grey skort. You’re ready for the day in your mary jane flats, sparing your arches the strain of heels. 

You knock and call through the door, “sir, I have your coffee.” 

You look at the cup. You had it made exactly as he always get. An americano with an extra shot. You think the caffeine is a bit much but you would never say so to him. He’s your boss, not the other way around. 

“Mr. Fowler?” You knock again as you stand in the hall, “it’s going to go cold--” 

The door opens suddenly and your fist nearly hits Mr. Fowler instead of the door. You retract and give a sheepish grin, “uh, good morning, sir,” you gulp. He has a towel crookedly clutched around his waist and he’s dripping wet. His stomach is hard and lined with muscle, tightly knotted and glistening with moisture. 

“It’s not six,” he snarls. 

“Sorry, sir, I'm early. Your coffee,” you extend your arm to offer him the cup, “they are bringing your breakfast shortly--” 

He grumbles and takes the cup. You let it go, hovering at the threshold as he keeps one hand on the towel. He inhales the scent of the espresso and tastes it with a moan of relief. He kicks the door shut and it snaps in your face. You step back and flinch. 

He’s right. You’re early. You caught him off-guard. That much is obvious. You can’t blame him for his mood. No one likes being interrupted during a shower. You back up and stand against the wall. You’ll wait. You have no choice. You know if you disappear, he’ll be even less pleased. 

Room service arrives shortly after and knock. Mr. Fowler lets them in, ignoring you as you linger, and the hotel porter leaves shortly after. You sway on your feet and check the time. 

Someone else might be annoyed but you’re too excited. The shine of the new place has yet to wear off. Even if you are working, the backdrop is enough to assuage any pitfalls. 

You check the time several times as you pace in the hall. You flatten yourself to the wall as another hotel denizen passes. You’re a bit awkward lurking there. You start to worry someone might see you and get suspicious. It is a bit strange to just be staring at a door. 

Before your doubts can get the best of you, the doors open and Mr. Fowler emerges in a white button-up and navy slacks. He forgoes his jacket and tie for the natural climate. His short hair is tidy and a light stubble trims his jaw. He checks the time on his wrist and signals with his index. 

“The car?” He demands. 

“The car,” you echo and your eyes flit back and forth. 

“The valet has the rental,” he snarls, “did you call for it?” 

“Sorry, sir, I...” you take out your phone and scroll, “I don’t see anything in the itinerary--” 

“Get the car,” he demands. 

“Yes, sir,” you wince and hurry ahead, “will do.” 

You scurry out of his sight and clamour into the lobby. You search around and see a new face behind the counter. Jonathan must be done his shift. You ask about the valet and they point you outside. 

You ask for Mr. Fowler’s car and wait near the ramp of the garage. You should’ve known. You booked the rental car and all that. You’re going to blame it on jet lag.  

Mr. Fowler appears at an easy pace, a hand in one pocket and the other around his phone. He doesn’t look up as he approaches. He stops a few feet away and sighs, once more peeking at his silver watch. 

“On it’s way, sir,” you assure him. 

He slips his phone into his pocket and squints at you. You give a shaky smile. You hate when he looks at you like that. It feels like he’s judging you. Well, he definitely is. 

“I told you to wear a dress,” he says as he reaches to touch the collar of your blouse. 

“Oh, sorry, sir,” you blanch. You must have forgot amid your late night chaos. You feel a surge of panic and quickly check your purse. You have your keys. “Do you want me to go change?” 

“It’s fine,” he turns you by your shoulders and pinches your top button. He undoes it and you try to look down at his hands, only to go cross-eyed. He clucks and undoes the next one, leaving the satin to hang low on your chest. “That will do.” 

You resist the urge to redo the button and you shrug, trying to hike fabric higher on your shoulders. You are overtly aware of your cleavage. It’s not very professional. 

“Sir,” you bring your phone up again, “I think my data isn’t working. I can’t see the itinerary.” 

“Don’t worry about it,” he turns as a sleek black car pulls up before you, “just get in.” 

[upsidedownsmore]

ENTRIES CLOSED, reblogs turned off, thank you everyone for entering and sharing your wonderful works!!

A compilation of every entry piece can be found here!

The winner is @mugbearerscorner and the information has been confirmed in DMs!!

Roll proof:

A link to the full spreadsheet of entries can be found here!

I'm so so grateful to all the people who participated in this event!! I'm so happy with how well it turned out and I'm so so thankful to be able to host it!!! Love you all!! :) :) :)

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

GAUSS PRIME ACCESS GIVEAWAY!

* Provided by Digital Extremes! Info about the prime access here.

To enter, simply reblog with your art of ANY warframe giving a thumbs up!

Giveaway entries will close on FEBRUARY 10TH at 10:00pm CST

The post for the above drawing (with reference screenshot and wips) can be found here.

MORE INFO UNDER THE READ LINE, PLEASE READ IT IF YOU WANT TO ENTER

Notes:

This is not a contest! The winner will be decided entirely randomly, image quality will have no effect on chances of winning! Make whatever you can in any medium you want! (This can also include 3D mediums! The only thing I'm not including is unedited game screenshots/captura, though edited might be okay). Everyone can draw regardless of how good you think your own skills are!

Please submit your own drawing(s)!! Only one is necessary but you can make more if you want of course! Do not use any AI generation tools for your entry.

When reblogging it might be a good idea to enter some text either in the post or in the tags! It turns out reblogs with just an image and nothing else might not show up under the original post, which means I might miss your submission!

Only one entry per person, you will not get more entries for additional reblogs and/or drawings.

The goal of this is for the community to have a fun little gallery of warframe thumb ups in the reblogs, but again don't stress over how "good" your drawing is! As long as you have fun and submit something vaguely in line with the prompt you're good! (such as a wave instead of a thumbs up or an operator instead of a warframe, etc. Up to you how closely you want to follow the prompt!)

You DO NOT need to engage with me in any other way (likes, follows, etc.) to enter, just a reblog with a drawing loosely following the prompt!

This giveaway will only run here on Tumblr due to issues with bots and impersonation on Twitter. The issue of course is that the only way to submit images under a single post on Tumblr is through reblogs, but please know that I do not intend this to be a means of promotion. If people could submit images in the replies I would gladly take that option! If this post gets taken down I will look into other giveaway options.

As this is my first giveaway as a Warframe creator please let me know if I've made any mistakes!

Here are some example drawings that would all work, but of course whatever you want to make shouldn't be limited to this!

Inspired by @ritens, I will be assigning one unique number per individual and then throwing them into the random number generator on random.org. After the entries close and I roll the winner, I will update this post with the winner's name and a message saying that the giveaway is closed. Reblogs will also be turned off once the giveaway is closed, as I am only using reblogs as means of congregating drawing submissions under one post during the giveaway period.

Whoever's number get's chosen will be contacted via DMs here on Tumblr, so please make sure your DMs are open! I will be asking for your Warframe IGN and platform so DE can give send over your prize! If you have cross-save linked or merged then please tell me, though I will also be asking in DMs as well. If the winner doesn't respond within 48 hours or no longer wants the prime access pack, then I will roll a new winner with the same method but with the previous winner(s) number(s) taken out of the pool.

Topmost drawing without giveaway text:

Anyways good luck and most importantly have fun!!

[amethystfairy1]

✨Hello hello!✨

I'm Amethyst (she/her), and I'm your local fanfic gremlin. I've written a lot for a lot of fandoms, right now I am caught in the Hermit/Traffic/Empires brainrot, and if that's how you've ended up here, welcome welcome!

The tag for my random blog stuff is: #amethyst rambles

And I also always post here whenever I post on A03, be it with a new chapter or an entirely new story! #amethyst updates

Right now, I have two WIP AUs!

Through the Sky-Blue Cracks 🌤️

My Hot Guy/Cute Guy, Over-City/Under-City AU that has a lot more going on in it now, it's grown pretty big and is organized in chronological order, not by publishing order, so I write up and down on the timeline filling in parts and pieces as I go!

TTSBC takes place in a modern/slightly sci-fi AU with superheroes, biotech, secrets to hide, trauma to unpack, and as much humor as I can attempt to fit in as well!

Features the local superheroes crushing on each other, anxious writer meets intrepid reporter, the drama professors who can't keep their hands to themselves, penpals gone wild, resident middle-aged married couple who happen to be a mobster and a mad genius, the local cottagecore lesbians, bad boy butterfly and cat lady, protective big sister, Zom-Mom and Sentient Glowstick, a very tired Guy-in-the-Chair with a permanent headache, and more yet to be added! I've got lots of plans left for this AU, so if you're interested, please come check it out!

Tags for the AU are:

#through the sky blue cracks

#ttsbc au

#ttsbc ficlets

Traveling Thieves 🪽

My dark fantasy AU! This one has some heavy themes going on, so I'd encourage reading the tags carefully before jumping in! I'm very proud of how it is turning out, dealing with breaking out conditioned headspaces, survival in a sick system, negotiating power imbalance, the power of friendship (no, really), and of course we've got elves, mercenaries, magic, swords, sorcery, rogues, redstone, and lots more fun stuff like that! Also lots of adorable birbs, one traumatized fiery boy, a mer with an attitude, a good doggo, and hurt/comfort galore! Giving everyone a chance to believe that they've all got a shot at getting lucky.

Tags for the AU are:

#traveling thieves au

#traveling thieves ficlets

Amethysts Scribbling Corner 📝

A little side project of mine to try and stretch my writing style!

My prompt requests are always open! I do not promise to fulfill anything, nor do I promise to fulfill anything within a reasonable time frame, BUT if you have any sort of thoughts/requests/recommendations I absolutely love to hear them and engage with them!

They can be as broad as a simple one-word prompt, or you can even give a brief description of a couple of sentences!

Feel free to request where you want the fic to take place, too! Especially when we're talking Hermit/Traffic/Empires stuff, if you want it to be within the Minecraft server world of that specific series, within a certain one of the Life Series, a modern AU, a fantasy AU...or even TTSBC or Traveling Thieves if you have ideas for them!

Just know that if anything requested for TTSBC or Traveling Thieves contradicts or maybe overlaps with any future plans for those AUs, I might not be able to accept them 😓

As far as rules go...I do not write NSFW. I am happy to write romance and let things get a little spicy 🔥 but keep in mind I'll always end up fading to black...also no heavy gore, body horror, things of that nature. I am very much a fan of writing whump and hurt/comfort though, so please send those ideas my way!

When I need some inspiration I dip into the request bin, and I keep all the requests I receive stored for future reference!

Tags for the series are:

#amethysts scribbling corner

I think that's all that going on with me right now...so yeah! I use this blog for my scribbling corner prompts as well as asks about any of my AUs or writing projects! I love getting the chance to ramble about my worldbuilding, so by all means, give me an excuse and I will make entire posts about that sort of thing!

My DMs are open and I promise I'm not scary! I love rambling and making fandom friends, so feel free to reach out if you wanna chat!

Thanks for coming by! 💖

[ashascoven]

☽ ✯ venture x witch! reader pt. 1! ✯ ☾

✯ welcome to my first venture fanfic ever!! ╰(*´︶`*)╯

✯ my venture fixation and endless fanfic reading of them has led me here, hours deep into writing my own...

✯ now that im typing this at 4 am on a school night.. i might have to post this in multiple parts..... 23 pages of fanfic that's still a wip uh oh!!

✯ ahem, i hope theres some fellow venture lovers out there who'll enjoy this! happy reading! :D

☆ FANFIC DEETS! venturexreader ☆

reader is a female who practices witchcraft! i wrote her that way because i also am a witch irl! :,)

VERY lengthy build-up fanfic (LOTS of reading.. i type a lot i think?)

venture is referred to as sloan <3

lifeweaver is besties with the reader, referred to as niran!

everything related to witchcraft here may be exaggerated / inaccurate for fanfic purposes.. but i tried writing it all into an experience > just reading!!

eventual ritual smut....

feel free to hmu, hope u enjoy :D

For every night that the full moon showed her face, the couple would be outside to accompany her. •°. *࿐

They'd bask in her glow to the grounds below, cherishing the energy of grace that she brings with her starry companions and practicing gratitude with her.

Both of them would dance around in the grass with bare feet, laughing away at each other's joys until they're so dizzy that they land into the planet’s arms, hand in hand, heart to heart. 𓆩♡𓆪

Gazing at the shapes of the misty clouds above their heads, they'd point out whichever ones reminded them of each other with giddy smiles on their faces.

Sloan would roll over with that sweet, chipped grin of theirs, facing you and holding your face gently.

Their thumb would run along the corner of your lips, eyes sparkling at how much they could just take you under the skies right now. 

“ah, mi cariño, you're so.. beautiful. no crystal in the world could ever compare to your beauty.”

You'd turn to face them, putting your hand above theirs with a blush on your face.

“oh, sloan! you're too kind, my charming agate..”

“anything for the gem that makes my heart race.”

The two lovers would giggle at their silly rock jokes, holding each other close under the night’s gentle breeze. 

Never wanting their time together to end, they'd lean into one another, eyes fluttering shut as their lips meet once again. 

The natural softness of your lips pressed against theirs sent shockwaves through their body, none that their drill could ever replicate on a battlefield. 

You made them feel so warm and loved inside, especially with the way your hands made it to their hair every time you two kissed.

It felt like the world had stopped, and all they could process was how needingly their hands moved all over your body in response, taking their time with each mark, crease, and even speckle of hair.

They loved everything about you after all.. each “flaw” of yours was just another spot that they had the honor of touching and kissing. <3

They'd pull back for a breath, but really it was just to take you in once more.

“you’re so special to me, mi vida, you know that?”

The moon was going to show herself at her fullest tomorrow, but curses, you were dreading her appearance..

“something's brewing.. tomorrow won't be a good day, i can feel it.” You mumbled to yourself, glaring down at the black candle you held with its own silver plate. 

The flame that once stood still flickered at your words in response, emitting up to you in what felt like commiseration.

“mm, something's gonna happen, right? go on, you can tell me~..”

You poked your index finger at its flame in a petting motion, watching as the flickering intensified. The shape of the fire leaned away from your touch in shame.

“don't be sorry, it's not your fault.. shh..”

You tilted your head at it and cooed with a comforting tone, holding the candle closer. 

The flickering stopped and the size of the once spirited flame dimmed down into a ball of burning light.

Moving your gaze back to the rain outside of the window you stood in front of, you sighed.

“just, please protect them for me, okay? i know you can do it, take this and keep them safe..”

You held the candle steadily in front of your face, careful not to drop it with one hand. 

The other hand reached down into the drawer of your altar’s nightstand, pulling out an old, used incense stick.

With the edge of it, you used the dripping wax to draw out a sigil onto the body of the candle, whispering an affirmation in hopes that it reaches the universe in time.

Then, you placed the candle down, thanking it for letting you borrow its energy.

You looked back at your sleeping lover, resting peacefully in the bed you two shared.

They hugged a pillow that you had nudged in place of where you were laying, already drooling all over it. Their hair was a mess and their body already took over most of the bed.

Yeah, they were just in a grey T-shirt and purple boxers with lightning bolts patterned onto them, but god, they were such a sight to take in.

You smiled, before looking back at the window and its altar, your heart feeling a little lighter for the night.

“yeahh.. they'll be alright.”

“moorningg sunshiinee~! (っ˘з(˘⌣˘ )”

“mmhh.. whehh..”

“i mean, it IS raining.. but i made you sunny eggs anyway!”

“actually, i dunno if they're.. exactly.. sunny? they're all nice and poached up for you though! (๑˃ᴗ˂)ﻭ”

You felt a plate nudge at your side, earning a groan out of you.

“c’mon mi corazon! you gotta eat something!!”

“por favoorr!!! pleaasee wake up, i wanna hug you before i go! (っ´ω`)っ”

“whuh- huh??”

You finally budged at the gloved hands that were lightly shaking at your shoulders, pushing them away.

Squinting at their blurry face, you rubbed your eyes to get a better view of the person in front of you. 

“before you.. go? you don't normally leave this early, sloannnn..” You yawned, looking up and down at their work clothes in confusion.

They had a different color jacket on today, but your tired mind didn't think to question it, figuring it was because of their job.

“yeahh I knooww my love, but there's some.. new ruins that my buddies found at work..! r-really important duty calls, and history awaits!”

“here, eat this for me! please?” They grinned, holding the plate in front of you as you sat up.

“mmh, promise me you'll stay safe baby.” You shoved a piece of burnt toast in your mouth without really looking at it.

“of couurrssee, y/n! don't you worry your little pretty head about me, i'll be fiiinee~ (つω`｡)” They sat the plate down next to you, wrapping their arms around you and snuggling their cheek on top of your head.

“mmhmmm, you better be, or i’ll keep every mirror and glass in this house covered when you're dead!” You reached up, playfully smacking the top of their head.

“nooo!! :( how am i gonna talk to you when i’m a cool mummified spirit thennn?ヾ( ￣O￣)ツ"

“no matter how much your ghost bangs on my crystal ball, screaming ‘y/nnn!! mi amooorr.. my priiinceeessss!!! myy woorlldd!!’.. you'll be talking to yourself.”

“baby nooooo :((, pleeaaase don't abandon me like thaatt, really! don't worry about me, i’ll bring back goodies for you n’ everything! (っ˘̩╭╮˘̩)っ” They pecked your lips, holding your face with the cutest puppy eyes ever.

“awwe, fiinnee. i believe in you, sloan.. i won't curse you with being a lonely spirit.. yet. (´-.-`)” You joked, your hands making it on top of theirs. 

They rolled their eyes, continuing to make a mess of your face with their honey-coconut chapstick.

You happily absorbed all of their pouty kisses like a crystal soaking up a person’s energy. 

You could've sat there and let them kiss you awake forever..

..but unfortunately, the excavator had a job to do.

With one last kiss on your lips, they hurried over to the bedroom’s closet, snatching up a backpack and their signature drill from it, and they waved their way out of the door.

“alright baby, i gotta go now! i love you, i miss you already! (´ ε ` )”

“oh-! i love you more! thanks for the food! ( ´ ∀ `)ノ～ ♡” You blew them a kiss.

“nonono, thank YOU for leaving those drinks by the window for me! :D” They peeped their head out of the doorway one last time before rushing through the house.

“don't forget to tell the bugs goodby- WHAT.”

“LOVE YOU MOST!! (o^ ^o)ﾉ”

“SLOAN!!????”

“IMSTEPPINGOUTTHEDOORNOW,BYEBABYCAKES!MUAHMUA-”

You watched them scurry down the road from the window, familiar looking jars clutched in their arms with a grin on their face..

They just took your jars of moon water to work.

You've been carefully curing those jars with salt under the moon light for literal years.

What the fuck.

With your palm now on your face, you sighed.

“there's no way they just- okay.”

You pressed your hands together and closed your eyes.

“i won't sacrifice them to the gods in their sleep tonight i won't sacrifice them to the gods in their sleep tonight i won-”

The smell of egg and toast hit your nose, making you look down at your side.

The plate of breakfast was still sitting there.

“oh, hm.” You picked up the fork and sliced an egg open with it, watching how the yolk oozed out slowly, inviting you to enjoy it. 

‘chef sloan, huh?’ You raised a brow, bringing a piece of it to your mouth.

‘did they.. try poaching eggs this time? weird, i thought they were in a hurry.. it’s cooked wel-’

You immediately stopped chewing, the slight taste of metallic water failing to compliment the wetness of the actual egg.

You felt your right eye twitch, hoping that the egg wasn't boiled with what you thought it was.

It was then that the adventurous Sloan Cameron was destined to die by the hands of their own lover.

They jogged through the rain in a hurry, abruptly halting at the bus stop they almost just ran past.

They knew you would've gotten onto them for not taking an umbrella, even more for snatching up their water jugs, but they figured they'll make up for it by kissing you all over later.

With their bags strapped on, drill in their hands, and their girlfriend’s jars now burrowed in their pockets, they were amped for their own little mission awaiting them at a site reserved for the Wayfinder society. 

See, they weren't actually called for any “important duties” at work, nor were any new ruins discovered.

Rather, they had their own plans for today's solo expedition, and that included secretly taking a trip down an untouched mine.

It was near one of the less active dig sites at their main workplace, hidden under old, giant tires that probably haven't been moved for years.

How did they find it? More like, how didn't they?

Their bus arrived, and they climbed on, paying for themselves and the one other person behind them with a ‘oh, don’t sweat it!’

They casually sat down towards the front of the bus, careful not to bang their filled pockets against anything, and sighed in relief. ( ´ ▽ ` )

Them and their drill both took up four seats, all dripping wet from the rain outside. 

Some people gave them looks, but they were oblivious to it, one hand patting their drill while the other held the edge of their seat.

They looked to the front window of the bus with a smile, bopping their head side to side while thinking of you. (b ᵔ▽ᵔ)b

Any worries about being found or getting in trouble for working on a site alone was out of the window; today was a paid day off for workers in the society.

But Sloan? Oh, Sloan Cameron was the most committed and daring worker that the Wayfinders had. 

If they weren't invited to anything for the holidays, they'd gladly spend their days putting in more time at work, not caring whether it was even meant to be a work day or not.

If they felt like digging, they could dig that!!!!

No one else at work ever minded anyway, their proven ability to work efficiently and optimistically is what earned their reputation of being reliable enough to be left alone.

Uncovering stories of the past cost them nothing more than physically getting active until they felt like bugging their girlfriend to cuddle them to bed.

..Sloan only ever really took their days off if it meant staying home with their beloved now.

Otherwise? They essentially were paid really well just to do what they love; collecting pretty rocks and bones for their lover, going on fun expeditions for their love of archaeology, and building big muscles in the process.

It was a triple-win in their eyes, they wouldn't have life any other way. No bad day or sudden curse could ever change that..

(TELL ME THEY WOULDN'T CALL IT A TRIPLE WHAMMY!!!!!!)

Oh, how they felt themselves warm up at the thought of their goddess at home, but quickly shook their head, reminding themselves why they were here at this specific site.

To think that such a cave with so many marvelous finds was right under everyone's noses was bizarre to them.

Sloan was so happy that they were the only one to know about it, gushing to themselves about all the crystals they'll bring home for their witchy wife to work with. 

They let their mind wander again, imagining the smile you usually have on your face from their grand returns home. 

Σ>―(〃°ω°〃)♡→ Σ>―(〃°ω°〃)♡→

You'd rush out of your little sanctuary shack that was on the side of the house to the sound of the doorbell, nearly breaking through the wall to wrap yourselves around them, kissing their dirt-covered face without a care in the world.

‘welcome homee babyy, i’ve missed you soo much, muah muah!! how was work? anyone i need to curse today? are you hungry?? thirsty?’ 

They chuckled to themselves at the thought of your voice, unconsciously rubbing a hand on the side of their face with a ‘shucks.. (ง ื▿ ื)ว..’

They thought about how you'd take quick notice of the extra bag they've come back with, panicking and offering to help them carry their things inside. 

Then, they'd shush you, shuffling over to the living room mat to empty said mystery bag, revealing an endless galore of a crystal witch’s dream.

From that point on, you'd probably tackle them down and they'd laugh, laying there to suffer the wrath of your kisses with no complaints.

Their imagination strayed towards admiring you.. how kissable your neck always is, how holdable your waist was… how much they wanted to take in the view of you on top of them and absolutely devour-

Nonono, they had a mission right now, and that was to acquire stones for their magical wife!!! ⸜(*ˊᗜˋ*)⸝

Sloan eagerly lowered themselves down into the tunnel of the cave, rope in one hand and flashlight in the other.

Their mining goggles were on, their backpack was on their back, and their jackets were off, leaving them in a white tank top. The jars they stole borrowed from you were now in the pockets of their pants.

Water and sweat dripped all over their arms and neck from how humid it was, but they were too excited to care.

They quickly scouted the place out like a sailor, the grin on their face growing at the sight of all of the crystals already visible to the surface.

It was like this mine was carved out for them, each colorful gem crying out ‘take me home to your lover!!! (」°ロ°)」 take me home to her!!! (」°ロ°)」’

Oh, did Sloan listen to their pleas alright, setting their bag and jars down near the entrance, instantly getting to work with their handy pickaxe.

They would've used their drill, but they stuck to pickaxes for these types of missions, wanting to bring home actual clusters of gemstones for you and not.. pellets.

Besides, whole rocks would be easier to preserve in water than crumbs, right?

Everytime they brought their pick down to the deposits of stones, the grin on their face widened in joy.. It was probably bright enough to start emitting light in the darkness of the mine.

The sound of the axe hitting the ores was music to their ears, so they kept swinging and chucking each one of your gifts into their bag, not a single worry in the world to bother them.

“ooohh, myy y/nnn! i can't waaiitt to bringg these homee to youuu~!!◝(⁰▿⁰)"

“i can't wait until they get home so i can kick their ass.”

You crossed your arms with a huff, staring in disbelief at the jars of moon water that were, in fact, missing.

Only one jar remained, and it was in the sink, empty.

Your eyes made way to the pan left on the stove, some pieces of egg still floating in the foggy water.

Your right one was probably still twitching, but you were just too distraught to notice.

“is this what i was having those feelings about?”

You clenched your fist, bringing it down to the counter.

“today was feeling off because my own partner decided to.. snatch ALL of my jars on the way to work.. as if that's something they normally do!?”

You looked at your flytrap plant pet that sat nearby, shrugging in a ‘wtf’ kind of way.

One of the plant’s traps closed themselves in response, slightly seeping downwards.

“ugh, i know, right?! it beats me why they'd just.. DO that, ya know?”

Another trap closed themselves, joining the first one in silently chiming in and sagging down.

“see, i really want to trust in sloan, i love them with my entire life! anndd afterlife! but.. also, who the fuck just steals a witch’s water?! not even a burglar would do that!”

“like, i was curing those for years, man! if sloan lets sunlight touch any one of those jars, i'll curse them for eterni-”

Both of the closed traps opened quickly in unison.

“..you're saying i.. shouldn't? curse them?” You raised a brow, a hand now on your hip.

The plant pods closed themselves back, not dipping their heads downwards this time.

“hm. i guuueeess that's true.. i was considering the voodoo doll approach to really teach em’ a lesson but.. you're right.“

“i can just sacrifice them another day.. today can be ass-kicking, tomorrow will be their downfall.”

You finished with a grin, starting to put some plates away as the flytraps reopened their mouths, sitting as if nothing had changed.

After a couple minutes of washing and drying used dishes from the night before, you felt something soft rub against your leg.

“wha- oh my gosh!! hii squuiishhyy!!” You squealed, lifting up the fat, fluffy creature that nudged its head on the back of your calves.

It wasn't exactly a cat.. or a dog..

Actually, it was a raccoon, a big albino one, and he was here to distract you from the bones you had to pick with your partner.

“myyy fluuffyy companionn, how aare youu?? :D”

You snuggled him, rubbing his face against yours.

He kind of just.. didn't react, cutely letting you hold him with a neutral •ᴥ• on his face.

Then, another soft creature rubbed against your ankles.

“aahh, spaaarkkyy!! my other fluffy companion!! what about you? how aree youu doingg todaay?? >:0”

You smiled, lifting it up to rub the other side of your face.

It wasn't a raccoon this time, but a black possum, and he had a white patch of fur in the shape of a star on his back!

He curled himself into your grasp with what seemed like his own little smile :0)

Both of the pets were adopted and well taken care of by you and Sloan.

Your partner found the possum on the way to work one day, insisting they kept him and named him Sparky because of the way his pointy teeth sparkled.

They couldn't stop running their fingers along his teeth for weeks, having to be dragged away by you for the possum to find some peace.

‘look at how razor sharp they are!! do you think his teeth could bite my fingers off?! id pay him with food, then i could get cool omnic prosthetics-’

‘sloan! that'd be-! ..messy actually, if you're gonna get blood everywhere, at least let me hire a vampire first.’

‘mi amor.. :( vampires only really existed centuries ago! how would you even find one for me right now? are you gonna make one of those cool pacts or something??’

‘id sacrifice you to one from the pas- nevermind, ‘cause you'd probaablyy want that, so i’ll just.. pretend to sacrifice you and not actually do it. (っ˘ω˘ς )’

‘nooOOO!!!! >:((((‘

As for the raccoon, you had found him while having a cleansing session in the woods, luring him with fruits and veggies that you had originally brought along for any wandering fae.

(You also made sure to come back later that day with more goodies as an apology to said spirits, leaving them with fruits, nuts, and honey.)

When you brought him home, you named him squishy, simply because he was fat and.. well.. squishy.

Sloan tried to play with his teeth, followed with their failed attempt at getting the two new pets to play a game..

‘y/n, look! they both have the cuuteestt baby hands!! that gives me an idea..’

‘you hold sparky like that ʕ •̀ o •́ ʔ, i’ll hold squishy like.. this! ʕ •̀ ω •́ ʔ we can play rock-paper-scissors! here, this'll be rock..’

And with that, you two now lived with Squishy and Sparky (and other pets being your plants & their bugs too).

A doorbell going off ended up interrupting your moment with your companions, earning a startled jolt from you.

‘oh? who could that- oh my stars-!’

“i forgot niran was coming over! Σ(O_O)”

✯ if you've made it this far, thank you for reading! <33

✯ here is the link to part 2!!, also on my profile.. here are the borders used!

✯ enjoy your day/night, stay hydrated, and keep loving venture <3

[asexual-abomination]

This is the first part of a rewrite of the series that brought attention to my blog in the first place! When I wrote this series originally, it was at midnight when I couldn’t sleep because I had COVID, so I always wanted to come back and rewrite it with a clearer mind.

It’s been a while since I’ve posted, cause I’ve been real stressed about university, but waking up to new notes on this blog is always a highlight of my day! I have so many WIPs for hxh, Overwatch, ff7, the batfamily, and now the spider-verse movies, but I’ve been struggling to complete them to an extent that I feel is worth posting.

Please leave a comment if you want me to rewrite the rest of the series!

Platonic!Yandere!Phantom Troupe X Autistic Reader (Soulmate AU)

Content warnings: Yandere, vague mentions of violence. Read at your own discretion.

“To my dearest soulmate.-“

No, too affectionate.

“To my soulmate, I am incredibly excited to welcome you here-“

The sentence is jarring, start with an introduction.

“To my soulmate, my name is YN, and I am so excited to finally have the chance to communicate with you!”

Good enough. You were so happy to be writing a letter like this, being able to rewrite and start over as often as needed, without the pressure of saying it right in the first try.

Having finished one sentence, you sighed as you looked down at the number of things you had crossed out before it seemed right. Then, you turned to your notebook, where you had spent years collating everything you wanted to put into this letter, trying to find some inspiration for what to do next.

“I have been awaiting this day, carved into our bodies, for my entire life.”

Was that too formal? Too strong?

Ugh. This was hard.

You despised knowing nothing about your soulmate, the enigma of their identity making them feel otherworldly and strange. Without knowing even the slightest bit about who they were, you had no frame of reference for what they would consider too much or too fast, leaving you to blindly feel your way towards a half-coherent letter.

Jo was sat across from you, in their favourite shabby armchair, pretending to watch the football you had put on for background noise, and not-so-secretly keeping an eye on you. From your dejected sigh as you curled up on the sofa, your childhood friend could tell what was bothering you from a single glance.

“I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, they’re your soulmate, they’ll love you no matter what.”

“But they shouldn’t!” You sighed, “I want to impress them, make them feel welcomed and happy!”

“And that’s what I’m gettin’ at! Their personality must be suited enough to yours that they’ll find your way of doin’ things loveable!”

You grumbled with no coherent response, looking again at your paper.

They’d find your way of doing things loveable.

You could work with that.

“I hope that I, and my friends, can make you feel happy and welcomed in my home. The time we will spend, with our bodies swapped, will be precious, and there will never be another time like it in our lives. You are precious to me.”

Your lips tugged downward in a frown at the last line, the irritating thoughts about potentially annoying your soulmate flooding you again. You had just let the pen run wild, trying to encapsulate even the smallest fraction of your feelings about the situation, which always ended up feeling like too much as your emotions overwhelmed you.

Just as you considered scrapping the whole thing and starting again from scratch, Jo caught your eye with a stern glare, as they always did when you doubted yourself.

“I have longed to know who you are for years; your mystery has entranced me. I want to see the destiny the universe has seen fit to bestow upon us both."

As you relaxed into the motions of the pen, the waterfall of words falling from your fingers, you stunned yourself with short poetic verses.

"Even though romance holds no place in what has been destined for us, I want to make you so happy that you may bear your heart to me as I may for you. Please take care of my body while you have it. I hope that one day I might trust with this on more than just blind faith.

All my love, from the bottom of my heart, your soulmate."

It felt weak. You felt weak.

Was it really right to say you loved someone you hadn't met? Even as soulmates, it felt like a betrayal.

"Hey Jo, do you mind reading through this for me? If I keep looking at it, I'll either throw it away or throw up."

"Ahh, YN, you know I'm not so good with words and that stuff, yeah? That's your job, ain't it?"

"Oh, hush, I've read your poetry, you big romantic!"

"What?"

You quickly hurried past them, dropping the drafted letter onto their lap before heading to the kitchen. Your hands were shaking; you needed to get some water before you passed out.

Your breaths were coming short as you downed a second glass of water, one arm shakily holding the lip of the sink for support as the anxiety began to weigh on your mind. You had less than a week; on this Sunday evening, you'd lie in bed and wake up in the body of your soulmate. It was Tuesday evening, the soft autumn air swirling dead leaves outside your window.

A phone began ringing in the living room, so you set down your glass on the draining board and began heading back through, only to realise the call wasn't for you when you heard Jo's voice.

"Yeah, I hear ya. No need to yell, old man... Oh, shut yer trap; you know I'm only half joking... You know I said wasn't working tonight... Yeah, yeah... You piece of shit! Fine, I'll be there, but you better be payin' me double time for this shit."

Jo rounded the corner, grumbling under their breath. They paused at your side, leaning in slightly to speak, the smell of beer on their breath and thankfully not overwhelming.

"Listen, yer letter was grand, okay? You've got a talent for these sortsa things. I've gotta head out, alright? Probably won't be back until morning. I'll bring you back something nice alright, repayment for skipping what should have been a nice night together."

"It's alright, really. Just take care of yourself, okay?" You reassured them.

They walked out into the biting chill, heading down a dark alley like it was their own front door.

--//--

Chrollo looked himself in the eyes, the cold water he splashed on his face dripping from his hair.

He had felt strange the past few days, like something was clinging to the back of his mind, tugging his attention away from his work. As if a song was stuck in his head, but he couldn't remember the melody.

The Mediterranean heat must have been getting to his head; that was the only explanation. He composed himself, wiping his brow before he went to slick his hair back, turning his focus to the heist he and the Troupe would be carrying out that Sunday.

--//--

The week had been long and stressful for everyone involved. You tried not to be too much of a perfectionist, but you wanted to make the best impression possible.

The morning of the day you would switch was upon you, and you came downstairs to find Jo asleep on your couch, as they often were. You smiled at their sleeping face, very peaceful compared to their usual furrowed brow.

Their face was made up of sharp lines, almost geometric perfection, except for the mess of freckles covering their cheeks and forehead, adding just a hint of softness.

As you prepared breakfast for the two of you, Jo woke up with a sleepy groan, trudging over to the kitchen counter.

"Today's the day, huh? The last day of me being your best friend?"

"Jo! Don't say it like that! I'll always love you, you know that!" You defended yourself.

"Oh, don't worry, I'm just joking. You deserve to be happy with your soulmate."

You frowned at that again, remembering the situation with Jo's own soulmate. You had both been so excited to look her up after the switch, only to discover that she had died in a sudden car crash within an hour.

After that, they became much more clingy with your time. When they were around, at least. They had also begun taking on many more "jobs" that took them far away.

You sympathised with their situation, but you could tell they harboured jealousy for your soulmate.

You sat down on the couch, breakfast in hand, as Jo came to sit at your side. You flicked through channels on TV, trying to alleviate the awkward tension that fell over the room.

"Listen, I'm not jealous."

"It's okay to admit it; I can understand your perspective! But you can't keep me from my soulmate!"

"No, it's not that! It's more that I'm... paranoid."

"Paranoid, about... what, exactly?"

"About your soulmate! I can't explain it, but I've got this bad feeling!"

"A bad feeling? What kind of bad feeling?"

You learned a long time ago that Jo's intuition was often correct, but were they really concerned or just trying to pull you and your soulmate apart?

"I just said, I can't explain it! I just don't want anything bad to happen to you!"

You sighed as you felt that both of you were becoming too worked up.

"Okay, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to accuse you. I think... we're all quite stressed right now. Let's have a proper talk when we're not all so high-strung."

"Yeah, yeah."

Today was gonna be fun.

--//--

Chrollo smiled at the carnage surrounding him, watching as his friends unleashed their power on these pathetic guards. They heard the approaching rumble of reinforcements, which, by their calculations, should contain the man they were after.

His incredible enhancer ability would be handy for Chrollo, so they had spent days sieging the fortress he defended. As Nobunaga took to whittling down the primary reinforcements, Chrollo found himself distracted once again. That strange feeling in the back of his head, the itch he couldn't scratch, saying that something was wrong.

He shook his head to free himself of these thoughts, as the intimidating man faced him, seemingly unaware of exactly who he was fighting.

--//--

Despite your small fight with Jo, the day had gone well. You had prepared several cakes, which you poured plenty of love into. You also wrote your letter into one coherent piece and placed it in an envelope, which you taped to inside of your bedroom door.

A group of your friends arrived, all bearing various snacks and drinks to add to the table. As the conversation began to flow, you anxiously reminded them of the careful limits you had gone over for what they were allowed to say to your soulmate. They all laughed and smiled, promising to go along.

Almost on autopilot, you turned to Jo for reassurance, and they were in a good enough mood to laugh softly and promise to keep the others in line.

You knew Jo wouldn't go back on their word, no matter their personal feelings about the situation.

With everything laid out enticingly on a coffee table, you retired to your bedroom for the night, your gut swirling with anxiety and excitement.

You laid back on your bed, crossing your hands across your stomach. You had until exactly 21:29 to wait for the switch.

Looking over at the clock you had bought for this express purpose, you saw 21:27.

It'll probably feel like forever, you thought, plenty of time to get comfortable.

21:28

That's fine; you took a few deep breaths, settling down into your pillows. You closed your eyes softly.

Breathing deeply. With your eyes closed.

In, and out, in, and out.

Curiosity got the better of you.

Your eyes snapped open, turning back to the clock, getting to see just the slightest glimpse of 21:29 before everything changed.

--//--

Chrollo sighed from the driver's seat, just a straight highway unfolding seemingly infinitely in front and behind him. Confident in his ability to avoid traffic by instinct, he allowed his eyes to drift to the clock on the screen, 00:28 blinking back at him.

That time bothered him.

It wasn't unusual for him to stay up past midnight, more common than not, in fact, but that itch he couldn't scratch, that sweet song that slipped his mind's grasp, was back in full force, making him grit his teeth in irritation.

He returned his eyes to the road before him, though he only caught a glimpse of the asphalt-laden horizon before everything changed.

--//--

In a moment, you felt everything shift. You could feel it down to the change in the structure of your skeleton. Every muscle was different, every sensation infinitely sharpened by the new body you inhabited.

You felt that you were sitting, not lying down. You saw that you were looking out at a road.

And then, finally, you realised you were driving the car.

It was common knowledge that the swap allowed people to speak in the native tongue of their soulmate, but you wondered if you would be the first to discover that the same thing applied to driving skills.

You focused on the road and on keeping your breathing steady, aware that a panic attack here would result in much more than a headache and a sore throat in the long run.

Once finally began to calm down, you briefly peeled your eyes off the road to look your soulmate in the eyes in the rearview mirror. His grey eyes were striking, and his raven black hair was slicked back to his head, revealing a strange tattoo in the centre of his forehead. He was quite attractive, all things considered.

You felt a brush of air across your chest and again glanced down to notice you were completely shirtless, other than a feathery collared jacket that did nothing to hide your soulmate's toned body. Definitely a bold outfit choice, but you couldn't deny that it suited him well.

After a few more moments assuring yourself of the safety of the road, you tried to look at the other passengers of the car. You had seen them when you looked at yourself in the mirror, but you couldn't bear to think about them at that moment.

In the passenger seat was a pink-haired woman, her face stoic as she stared ahead. Behind you was a grumpy-looking man with black hair leaning into the window. In the centre of the backseat was a blond man with a cute face, tapping away at a modified phone of some kind. Furthest from you, behind the passenger seat, was a gruff-looking man with slicked-back blond hair.

None of them seemed to have noticed a change in their driver's behaviour, so you had a few more moments to collect yourself before you spoke up. Although you were still grappling with the fact that your soulmate had entirely forgotten about your switch, you didn't want to waste your time.

"I don't know... quite what's happening here, but I'm this person's soulmate."

You could taste something sweet with just the slightest hint of bitterness on your own breath.

The car had been silent before you spoke, but the silence grew heavier. Now every eye was on you, and you almost wished you hadn't said anything, that you had let the switch play out in complete silence before returning to your own body.

"What?" The taller blond man finally replied.

"I'm... their soulmate? Did they not tell anyone?"

"Boss had a soulmate?" He turned to the other blond man, ignoring you completely.

"Not as far as I know!"

"Look at me."

That last bit was said by the pink-haired woman next to you. With no small amount of fear in your heart, you ripped your eyes away from the road to look her in the eyes. Her cold, calculating eyes pierced you through and through. After what felt like aeons that she spent observing you, she let out the slightest gasp.

"You're not lying."

As soon as you had the reassurance that they believed you, you looked back at the road, relieved to see no danger.

"Are you serious? Are you messing with us, boss?" The black-haired man spoke, his tone rising to aggression.

"Calm down, all of you! This is the boss's soulmate, obviously!"

"But why wouldn't he tell us at all? This is crazy!"

"I don't know! Maybe he wanted to test us?"

"Sorry to interrupt, but what's going on here?"

The pink-haired woman turned back to from where she had been scolding the other passengers, sighing before she spoke.

"Look, sorry about all this ruckus. It's just that we're pretty close to our boss, and he never even told us he had a soulmate!"

"Seriously? Weird..." You trailed off, unsure of how to fill in the dead air.

"My name's Machi; what's yours?"

"I'm YN. Who is this?" You asked, gesturing slightly at your own body.

"Oh right, our boss's name is Chrollo. In the backseat, there is Nobunaga, Shalnark, and Phinks." She pointed each one out to you.

Behind you, Shalnark and Nobunaga were whispering to each other as they looked intently at Shalnark's phone.

"And where are you from, YN?" Shalnark spoke up again, a bright smile on his face as he watched you through the rearview.

"I'm from CN; where are we right now?"

The conversation continued like that for some time, with simple back-and-forth questions. Jo had advised you not to share too much sensitive information, and you couldn't help but get the inkling of a feeling that they were right.

The way that Shalnark would ask you questions before he immediately turned back to his phone alighted some anxiety in your gut, so you tried to turn the conversation back on them.

"So, you say that my soulmate here is your boss? What do you do?"

You didn't miss the beat of silence, but you tried to give them the benefit of the doubt that they had been put on the spot.

"We're traders, mostly," Shalnark started, "We travel around, buying and selling antiques and treasures and stuff!"

"Wow, that sounds like fun!"

"It can get tiring sometimes, but it's really fulfilling!"

There was a breath of relief from the car before Nobunaga spoke up, excitedly telling you a story of a time they had visited your home country for their business. Finally, it felt as if the atmosphere was relaxing, with everyone joining in to add details to the story.

You smiled softly, relieved that you no longer felt like an insect under a magnifying glass. It was pitch-black outside the car, and there were very few other cars on the road, so you felt safe enough to relax your grip on the steering wheel just a touch as well.

As you leaned back in the driver's seat, listening to Phinks avidly tell you about the food they had enjoyed in the capital of your home country, you felt the night's excitement finally hit you.

And how unlucky that you had just relaxed when you suddenly found yourself back in your own living room.

--//--

Chrollo snapped awake in his place, feeling that he had gone from his spot sitting to lying down in the blink of an eye. Immediately, he threw himself into a standing position, assuming the car had been surprise attacked.

At the same moment, he reached for his knife while attempting to summon Bandit's Secret. His anxiety only heightened when he realised that he had neither.

Finally trying to observe the situation and pinpoint his potential attacker, he slowly began to piece together what was going on.

He was in a neat bedroom and had been lying in bed. On the bedside clock, he read 21:29 in red blinking letters.

Oh shit.

Oh fuck.

His soulmate.

Ten years ago, he had made sure that his soulmate date was entirely obscured by his spider tattoo, going as far as to go to a different tattoo artist than the rest and killing them afterwards. He had to protect his soulmate, lest they be used against him. But in his attempt to defend them, he had completely forgotten to prepare anything.

Shit.

He looked around the room, trying to get his bearings now that he wasn't in danger. A mirror poised on one wall allowed him to observe his soulmate. He ran a hand over his cheek as he watched the skin move in abject fascination. All these sensations were raised in intensity; even in this body without Nen, he felt everything to a pinpoint. He suddenly became aware that he could taste a tiny bit of mint; they had even taken the time to brush their teeth to ensure his comfort.

There was an envelope taped to the inside of the door, obviously meant for him. Picking it off the door with an uncharacteristic level of gentleness, he sat back down on the bed to read.

The letter nearly sprung tears to his eye; how blessed was he to have someone so passionate! He could feel the depth of emotion poured into the letter, the way you spilt your heart out on the page.

He sat on the bed, eyes scanning over every line, reading and rereading the poetry before him.

"Do you think they're okay? I heard some movement inside, but it's been silent since. Do you think they fell and hurt their head?"

"Ugh, I'll knock and go check."

It hadn't occurred to him that there would be other people here - just another example of the care and thought you had put in.

He opened the door to a freckled face, who wore an expression of surprise as their hand was still in the air, having been about to knock. Immediately, he turned on the charm, knowing he could at least cover up for his lack of planning on this end.

"Oh, sorry about that; I didn't realise I was expected!" He added his best chuckle, followed by, "My soulmate is quite the poet; I've been entranced!"

He waved the letter to show it off before stepping past the newcomer. But he stopped briefly while he was right next to them. He could feel it.

The cold, calculating look in their eye, the robust build, the scars along their hands. They were from Meteor City.

With a polite nod, he continued into the living room, though he could feel that person's eyes on him the whole way. He was greeted with three cakes and a wide selection of snacks and drinks. He cursed that you wouldn't be getting such a cosy reception on your end.

The conversation flowed easily as soon as he introduced himself; everyone was excited to tell him things or ask him questions. He easily lied his way through questions about his profession; it was like second nature to the charismatic thief. Everyone in attendance was charmed by him except that damn person from Meteor City. Just as he began considering if he might have to kill them, they leaned forwards, interrupting another one of your friends.

"You smoke?"

Chrollo had smoked once or twice in his youth but had never had a taste for it. He shook his head no, hoping they would drop it there.

"Too bad, 'cause I do, and I want a private chat with you. Step outside."

With their authoritative voice, he knew he was not avoiding the following conversation.

The biting chill on his cheeks felt much sharper than usual, his own body having learned to withstand much harsher conditions. However, he was scarcely given a moment to enjoy the sensation before Jo interrupted.

"You're from Meteor City."

"I'm aware."

"Hmph. Are you a thief?"

"Of course, aren't you?"

"My work isn't the prettiest, but I'm not that low. I owe that to YN."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"They lifted me up and out of that place of their own goodwill. When I escaped that place, we met by chance, and they offered their hand to give me a new life. They're the reason I stay on the straight and narrow. I'll do anything to protect them; you should know that."

"I will, too; surely you should know that. I'm their soulmate."

"And you're also a thief. Probably a prolific one, from how easily you lied about your career. I want to protect them for their sake; you just want to protect them for your own sake. You won't be taking them anywhere; I'll steal them away where you'll never find them again if you try."

"That's quite the threat; are you sure you can follow through?"

"I'll have to, for them."

Chrollo chuckled at this silly notion. As if they could really do anything to take his soulmate away now that he knew they were here.

He watched Jo's silhouette retreat back into the warm light of your home, a smirk spread across his face at their sheer bravery, before everything changed.

--//--

Snapping back to your own body, now standing, was jarring, to say the least. Jo looked over their shoulder at your gasp as you nearly lost your balance, rushing over to catch you before you hurt yourself.

"Oh, hey there!" You laughed, looking up at them.

"Hey." They sounded standoffish, but their smile was undeniable.

"What are we doing outside?"

"Oh, I just wanted a smoke, and he followed me to chat."

You couldn't smell any smoke in the air, and you felt like something was being hidden from you, but you were just so tired and happy to be back that you chose to push that down for now.

"I'm gonna go to bed. Can you tell the others to go home? I need to just lie down ASAP."

"You got it. I'm gonna have to head out again soon as well, so I'll see you again whenever I get back."

--//--

"So." Machi started, addressing the newly-returned Chrollo, "What was that all about?"

Everyone was hushed, awaiting the boss's answer.

"You already know that was my soulmate. I had... forgotten to tell anyone."

More silence flooded the car as the other members of the spider internally debated whether or not they wanted to risk their necks by making a joke.

"Well, you'll be glad to know we're on the right path to get to them!" Shalnark cut in with his usual cheer, hoping to distract from the current situation.

"Really?"

"It'll be a few days even if we pick up the pace, but Feitan is currently in that country and can start keeping an eye on them ASAP. I'm concerned about their safety, especially considering their medical records."

"There's no need for too much worry," Chrollo said calmly

"What do you mean?!" Nobunaga was incredulous; how could the boss take his soulmate's safety so easily?

"Someone is protecting them already, someone we'll have to take care of, but a valuable protector, for now, all the same."

--//--

Thanks for reading!

[emry-stars-art]

tell us about the royals au!!! (im on my knees. please.)

Ohhhhh my friend you have started me on a RANT I hope you’re ready!!!

I don’t know that I’ll ever actually write it so I’m not too worried about spoilers, and the wonderful people in my dms (which are still open btw) bouncing ideas with me are always going to come up with great ideas so I’m putting WIP in big red letters, things are subject to change! But for now, some ideas. Most of what I have will be under the cut, but if you want to know more about a specific part/have any questions please I’d love to chat :D will link to the art/posts I have so far!

(In this au I’ve been referring to Neil as Nathaniel at first and then Abram (hello names as a plot device), and everyone else right now is some version of their name)

Kevin and Nathaniel were raised at Evermore castle, Kevin to be in direct competition to Riko/see which of them might claim the throne (not thought out yet), and Nathaniel as the Moriyama’s attack dog, born and raised to take his father’s place as such. The two never met in person, but Nathaniel knows and recognizes Day because of course he does, and Day knows the name Wesninski means a very, very dangerous person. Essentially the top assassin on the continent.

But as we do, Day decides he can’t/won’t handle the treatment anymore, whatever the last straw may be, and runs off to Palmetto in a kind of desperate chase of the stories his mother used to tell him when he was little. He knew she loved that kingdom. Somehow he finds Wymack - the twin’s royal advisor - or Wymack finds him, and once Wymack realizes who this kid is and has reason to believe he’s not here on Evermore business, he puts Day’s incredible talent and training as a tactician/commander to work as his pupil.

Meanwhile Nathaniel is still at Evermore, mistreated and learning from his own failures and mistakes until he’s nearly as good as his father at the family business.

I don’t know how long Nathaniel plans it, but he either plays the part for long enough or his skill is so undeniable that when the Moriyamas have plans for the Palmetto Kingdom, they send him and one other accomplished fighter to kill the king. Nathaniel goes quietly and decides he’s not coming back if he can help it.

So instead of killing the young king, Nathaniel’s panic has him turn on his partner at the very last second, stopping them just before they can get to the king. He takes them somewhere far away and does what he does best, leaving no one to report back to the Moriyamas. From then on it’s a waiting game to see how long the family will wait before they send someone after him.

Day’s followed them, and Nathaniel turns around from the body and sees this man he hasn’t seen in years, alive and safe away from Evermore. It’s as elating as it is crushing - because Day heard his partner call him by name, and there is no way Day will ever let a Wesninski walk away alive. Not if he knows what’s good for all of them.

Except Day doesn’t kill him, even when Nathaniel asks him to. (Better Day than Riko, Nathaniel knew that even when they were all stuck at Evermore). Instead, he takes Nathaniel back to the twins/Wymack, gives him a little bread, and they sit until he can pry out an explanation. (See the comic of this first meeting here.)

Day and Nathaniel spend most of their time together because Day refuses to let Nathaniel out of his or Wymack’s sight until he proves not a threat to the royal family, which proves an issue because between Andrew’s rotation of personal guards (he never gets along with them well enough that they stay/aren’t fired) Day is Andrew’s guard, which sometimes means Nathaniel is stuck a lot closer than Day would like. But after a long, long time, Day and Wymack decide Nathaniel was serious about the whole “runaway” thing and isn’t playing spy (maybe there’s some dramatic event/Nathaniel protecting a twin that convinces them or maybe it’s just a lot of little things over time). Andrew, after a rough spat with the latest guard, is again in need of a new one. Finally Day just asks “is there ANYONE you could possibly pretend to get along with that can do the job” and Andrew knows Nathaniel is dangerous he just doesn’t know exactly how or why (but oh he is curious) so maybe he just straight up says. “Wesninski.” And Day has to go “…. Fine.”

So boom. They knew each other superficially before, but now Andrew and Nathaniel are spending most of their time together and miraculously - no arguments. No spats. Day thanks the gods there’s no physical altercations (that’s probably what got the last guard fired so quick). Nathaniel is just a mystery with shady ability to tell the truth and Andrew can’t help his curiosity. Good old fashioned andreil :D

From here the timeline becomes essentially nonexistent, I have no idea when these things happen in relation to each other but so far they’re all things I like and want to include!

1) there’s plenty of games and competitions at Palmetto, we love a good tussle, and Nathaniel usually does quite well - he’s not good at playing fair, but his underhanded methods are not technically illegal and usually he can use his preferred weapon - dagger rather than sword. He does well except for the one time an opponent accidentally says/does something that was constantly said or done to Nathaniel while “training” at Evermore, and he comes back to Andrew and the tent he watched from in the beginning of a panic attack. Andrew doesn’t know anything about Nathaniel’s past at this point, but he knows a panic attack when he sees one. In trying to talk him through it, Andrew realizes that yes Nathaniel is scared of being hurt, but he’s more afraid of hurting others. Nathaniel won’t let Andrew call him by name, he flinches every time Andrew says it. After, Andrew asks what he should call him instead, and Nathaniel finally asks to be called Abram.

2) Balls! Masquerades! Abram doesn’t have many outfits, he wears the regular issued uniform to every event. Andrew will not stand for this. Abram always wears clothes that cover him fully, which is fine, Andrew can work with that. He’s still seen Abram in a tight shirt or two. So he commissions one of the most knowledgeable people in the court (we’re thinking it might be Allison, she’s a noble but she’s great with textiles/embroidery/etc) and gets Abram a new outfit. It still covers him, its still protective material, but it looks better. (Find Abram in a corset here). Andrew handles it totally normal and rational in his head when he sees Abram actually wearing it of course.

3) Day probably assumes for a little while that Andrew and Abram have got a more or less normal guard/charge relationship, even thinking it’s slightly antagonistic considering this is Andrew we’re talking about. (This doesn’t fit the timeline, but here’s a mini comic of one of Day’s misunderstandings hehe)

4) king Aaron! He became king at 18/20/whatever age we decide this universe deems old enough because he is in fact the elder twin here. I imagine their parents have both been dead and gone for at least a few years at this point. Dan is Aaron’s guard and she and Abram hit it off great as coworkers and friends. More on the uncertainty of the twins backstory later. (Drawings of Aaron and his queen Katelyn here!)

5) the angst. The Moriyamas should have heard from the Wesninski boy months ago - something somewhere went wrong. So, naturally, they go to collect their property. If they get away with it, we can imagine how it goes. What I don’t know is if the twins, Day, and Wymack know for sure he was kidnapped or if they have a little nagging in the back of their head that wonders if he’s only run away from the castle or if he’s run back to Evermore with everything he’s learned.

When he’s recovered, Day doesn’t let Andrew too close too often for a while. If Abram forgets where is for even a second too long - waking up from a nightmare, having a flashback - it’s long enough for it to be fatal to whoever might get too close to Abram. It’s already almost proved fatal for Andrew, after Abram played normal so well that Andrew let it slip - he forgot Abram was taken back to Evermore for them to finish making him into a thoughtless weapon, and they’d nearly succeed. He wakes Abram too quickly and ends up extremely lucky Abram recognizes both his voice and the way Andrew didn’t call him ‘Nathaniel’ or ‘Wesninski’. There’s really a huge amount to possibly be covered about this point so I won’t go into detail here - but if you like hurt/comfort you know where to find me 👀

6) the biggest thing we haven’t figured out is Andrew. Either he was kidnapped at a young age and only recovered in his teens, or the elder King Minyard didn’t much care for his second son. Though I’ve always liked the idea of Mr. Minyard being a good man who died shortly before the twins’ birth and their mother just couldn’t handle the grief or knowing that the twins look like him. Anyway a lot of the twins’ issues after both of their parents are dead are the advisors or other people around them that try to take advantage of their youth and inexperience for their own gain, without realizing that both Aaron and Andrew have had to grow up much too fast, each for their own reasons. They can usually see right past the tricks. It’s why they both trust Wymack so much - he’s one of the few adults that are truly there to help them, and not make decisions for them.

Im sure there’s more I missed, but this is long enough as it is lol. People have asked about the Trojans/Jean in this au, and I’d love to include them! My brain’s instinctive response is that Jeremy is some sort of high end noble/royal of a faraway kingdom, and Jean (always last to leave the nest, im so sorry baby) somehow gets over there, but I don’t have an idea of his or anyone else’s roles yet. Renee could even still have a hand in him getting there if we really want.

So I’m still writing snippets and drawing over here lol but i promise I don’t bite if you want to talk :D

[quinloki]

Celebrating 1 year and 1k followers

Thank you so very much to everyone who has decided to follow me. I appreciate your enjoyment of my work, especially since I have no set schedule and a dozen open WIPs. Here's to another year:

and I'll not forget you.

Submissions are accepted from 1-1-2024 to 1-14-2024

One-shots will be posted from the 15th til the 31st

*all dates are based off East Coast USA, but I'll accept a day in either direction <3*

(Pending Host Club AU Drabbles will be posted between the 1st and the 14th. Grief was not kind to me at the end of the year, but I want to do as many of those as I can over the next two weeks.)

Rules for submitting a request for this event!

Anon is allowed! Character ages are irrelevant.

Reader vibes are appreciated: afab or amab + pronouns is enough.

Choose a One Piece Character OR a Crew. A singular Character may result in a more intimate piece, choosing a crew may result in a more platonic vibe.

Finally, include ONE of the following phrases:

~ Sweet ~ Semi-Sweet ~ Bitter-Sweet ~ Bitter

And that's it - that's all you need. Below is an example =D

Hi Q, I'd love an amab she/her reader with Sir Crocodile, and make it Bitter please!

That's the minimum I need =3

Bonus: Select an AU \o/ If you want, and you do not have to, you can select the Universe for the backdrop of the piece. You can specify Canon, but also any of the AUs I've currently written. If you're not sure what the AU would be technically, just reference the story title.

Please just things *I* have written. I won't use someone else's AU unless I've talked to them about it before hand, and I haven't done that for this event ^_^

Final note, and while final, kind of important - if it hasn't been obvious from the start, the baseline for all these requests are going to be that SOMEONE has amnesia. Be it the reader or a character.

99% it'll be the reader, but if inspiration strikes different, I'll write different.

If inspiration takes a Dark Turn, it'll be tagged accordingly.

Starting off the year with some abrasive angst is a good way to scrub things clean and enjoy the rest of it. Or something. (I've been wanting to write an amnesia-themed series of one-shots for AGES and this is really just an excuse to help facilitate that 😇💖)

May 2024 bring you joy in such abundance as to diminish the pains of years past. And if such is not your fate, then may you have the capacity to be kind to at least one other person, and in so doing, make the world's pain a little less.

[for-a-longlongtime]

Songs and musings in the Key of Peña-Rockford

(Those gun holsters have me all fucked up. Seriously.)

I warned y'all about how obsessive my hyperfocus can get, right? Damn ADHD. The choke hold (all the puns intended) that this fic idea has on me is unreal, haha. But all of your comments and encouragements about this Rockford Pena WIP are making me so happy and relieving some of the stress I feel about writing it - thank you! I don't have another snippet to share just yet (so I hope this post isn't too much of a cock tease), but since I always love to read about character thots and writing processes (e.g. the extra posts by @mysterious-moonstruck-musings about her Destiny & Deliverance series, and @gracieispunk with her White Lotus posts), I figured I'd post a little update with some musings and songs I'm associating with this fic.

My Spotify currently is curated by @sin-djarin, who somehow knew just the right songs that relate to this WIP. Particularly these three tracks are on constant repeat. Going back and forth with her about little things that come up, or question ‘why this and not’ has been so much fun really. It makes me giddy because it turns the fic into something collaborative rather than just something from the inside of my brain, you know?

Whisper - Morphine

I included this track the other day already with the WIP snippet; it’s sexy and slow and that bass line really gets to me, then the saxophone ups it even more. @sin-djarin sent me several Morphine songs (I have to admit that somehow I wasn’t familiar with them) but this one stands out. The push and pull that’s happening in the lyrics is also delicious, and a lot of it feels like it’s coming from Rockford’s POV about Javi - that’s all I’ll say about it for now.

A Perfect Twist - Mike Patton

This song has an exuberant, rather bombastic vibe to it that I would’ve never associated with anything related to Peña. Although, those lyrics... they are definitely about brat taming.

I'll bend you over my knee Let's see what you can take You're never gonna break

And I'll squeeze that noose a little tighter Breathing like a snake How much can you take? You're never gonna break

And I'll turn those screws a little tighter You can hardly wait You're never gonna break

Just one more twist of the pliers Got you on the brink How much can you take? You're never gonna break

There’s something about the dizzying tune and pace that somehow evokes the noir-like Rockford vibes in the Merge Mansion clips, laced with liquor and cigarette smoke and things spinning kinda out of control.

Wait who said Masquerade Mansion? 🎭

In relation to these two?

Shhhh let’s pretend you didn’t see that. Keep your eyes wide shut. 🎭

Broad Daylight - Gabriel Rios

This is the only song that suddenly came to me re: this fic, and I was all… the fuck is this. I like the song, it's catchy, but it just didn’t make any sense to me with regard to Javi and Tim. The only thing I could think of in relation to the track was maybe a vague reference of Peña getting caught up with Los Pepes, things that were done in the dark and shouldn't come out in the daylight:

Back in the old days, tight like a fight Used to hang with the devil in the broad daylight

But still, it puzzled me. I think something in one of the Morphine songs musically led me to Broad Daylight, weird as that may sound. After way too many replays of that song (and @sin-djarin joking about 'what are those Polaroids Tim has on Javi?', since the song mentions polaroids), the relevance of the song finally clicked with me;

Look at you shaking you can't find his plight Got you scared of ghosts in the dead of night While you're making up stories trying to make it ok He'll be bringing them in to let them out and play In the broad daylight

We'll see how it goes from there.

At some point, there's also going to be a bit of Marcus Pike in the fic (pancakes!). I have to be honest - I don’t really read a lot of Marcus!fic, so I’ve been trying to figure out how he fits in and some of his character traits etc. But the wonderful @secretelephanttattoo was very quick to offer me some insights about Marcus that I needed! Go read it here.

TBH, I had absolutely not planned to write anything about Peña any time soon, because why I love him in canon and in the many fics I've read, I didn't exactly feel like I had a good enough handle on writing something about him that has some plot rather than just fucking. But then this fic idea popped up. If there's anyone who knows him really well, it's @goodwithcheese (you'd better be reading her incredible new story Paranoid Heart about Javi!). So I dropped some questions and fortunately she was totally up for some character chat right here, which is really helping me figure out some things. Thank you babe, and I hope more people will contribute thots to your 1K Celebration Confessional about their sins!

Also, I've been trying to put a time and place to the fic, but I've decided to not get too hung up about that because it's really not literature but Fic/Porn With Plot. It doesn't all have to make sense. But in case you're curious, I'm leaning towards this taking place in the US in recent enough times that smartphones are a thing.

Age wise, I'm seeing Tim Rockford as being 48/50 years old probably. Javier is about 40, 41 years old - just to give you an idea of 'which Javi' I'm looking at, I've got a sense of him as he is in Narcos S2 around episode 4-9, after Carillo is murdered, and Berna takes him to see Judy Moncada.

Reader insert (I know, I haven't spoken a lot about her yet!) is probably about 40 years old too. And finally, Marcus Pike is give r take about 37 years old, which corresponds with his Mentalist appearance.

BTW, I came across an edit that had all of the Tim Rockford bits from the ads without the additional stuff. A whopping total of 48 seconds. Man, I hope that Pedro is aware of how fucked up he has us about Rockford with less than a minute of his acting. Even my wife said 'I would totally watch a show or movie based on this character' when I played the Merge Mansion ads for her.

Finally, here's a video of Pedro talking about "real fantasy fullfillment in terms of getting to immerse yourself in an experience" and how he "loves being a detective, that's fantasy fullfilment for me" re: the Merge Mansion event day.

*hits replay*

Say 'fantasy fullfillment' one more time? Respectfully.

Like I said, I hope he knows how fucked up he has us all about Rockford. I sure am glad he did these ads and whatever he got paid, it sure wasn't enough.

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

Updated tag list (comment if you want to be added, or if I added you by accident!) based on folks who commented/reblogged on the prev posts:

@sin-djarin @legendary-pink-dot @imalrightllama @secretelephanttattoo @rhoorl @mysterious-moonstruck-musings @trulybetty @goodwithcheese @linzels-blog @rifflovesjoey @maggiemayhemnj @magpiepills @youandmeand5bucks @morallyinept @5oh5 @missredherring @avastrasposts @anavatazes @imaswellkid @pedrit0-pascalit0 @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @survivingandenduring @boliv-jenta @prolix-yuy @sheepdogchick3 @inept-the-magnificent @northernwindd @alltheglitterandtheroar @readingiskeepingmegoing @txlady37 @rebel-held @alwaysmicado @heareball @clawdee @covetyou @bellsbluebrd @alltheglitterandtheroar @axshadows @casa-boiardi @bastardmandennis @stealyourblorbos @chronically-ghosted @katw474 @beabliss @nerdieforpedro

I don't know why some usernames don't seem to link when I try to tag them, btw. Does anyone have any suggestions on how to fix this?

[so-long-soldier-writes]

drabble #9 - hope

kai parker x reader

summary: kai notices your scars

tags: implied / referenced s3lf h4rm, coffee, crushes

word count: 943

a/n: remembered this has been in my wip folder, but when i wrote it, i had already posted a sh related one that week 💀 but the last two days at work have been ROUGH and i dug it back out.

It’s just for a second that you need to pop into the Salvatore boarding house. Just for a coffee before you head over to the Grill to study. You could just get one there, but you’re a firm believer in having one to-go, to sip on as you make your way to the other place. Besides, taking a detour to the house means chit-chatting with whomever is inside at the moment, and curiosity is killing you to know. 

“Hello!” You announce your presence as you walk through the hallway.

“Y/N!” Damon exclaims, “what on earth brings you here today?” 

The two of you are probably best described as frenemies. Sometimes you hate him, sometimes you love him; whichever one depends on his attitude. 

“Oh nothing much, being nosy, stealing coffee. Who else is here?”

“Elena, who’s off classes for the day. Caroline, who dropped out of school entirely. And Kai, who has nowhere to be, except apparently in my business.”

“Awh, he can’t be that bad.”

“He is, Y/N. Soooo talkative! And since he’s here, Bonnie’s not!”

“But the merge helped, right? He kinda mellowed out, even though you thought the opposite would happen.”

“Doesn’t mean I enjoy his company.”

“I’m right here,” Kai says suddenly. 

You turn to the sound of his voice and smile, “hi!”

“Hi,” the boy can’t help but smile back. 

Turning back around, you start to make a coffee. You don’t know it, but Kai’s eyes are still on you, watching your every move. He’s curious about you, though knows he can’t admit it. But every small interaction the two of you have, you’re so bubbly and sweet. He can’t help the desire to ingrain you in his brain - the one person who’s ever shown him kindness. 

As Kai watches you, though, his eyes linger on your arms. Something catches his eye, just a glance, but it’s long enough to make his stomach drop. 

“And so I was running through the trees when I tripped, but then when I turned to see what I had tripped over, I- Kai, stop watching her, that’s creepy!” Elena interrupts the story of her dream to bark at the boy. 

Kai snaps out of his trance and mutters an apology. 

“It’s okay,” you shrug. “He’s not bothering me.”

“Well he’s bothering me.” Elena then continues after rolling her eyes. 

Some time after hearing her story and finishing your first coffee, you excuse yourself to go study. After all, exams are coming up quickly, and there’s no chance you’ll get any work done in the Salvatore house. So, with simple goodbyes to everyone, you go and start to make your way down the gravel driveway. 

The moment you leave, Kai shoots up from his chair. “I need to talk to her.”

“Hold up,” Damon stops him quickly, “no, no, no. She was just here. You don’t need to see her alone.”

“Yes, I do.”

“Kai-”

“I just need to ask her something!”

“Damon, just let him. Y/N can handle her own,” Stefan says, obviously tired.

“Fine. If I hear a scream, I’ll be there faster than you know it.”

Kai rolls his eyes, but then practically runs out the door to reach you. 

You haven’t gotten far before he catches up to you.

“Y/N, hey!”

Turning, you smile at him. “What’s up?”

“I just…” he’s slightly out of breath, and takes a moment to gain it back. “I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

“What do you mean?”

“Your,” he gestures to your wrist, “arm. I just… noticed it, like a little glimpse, and want to check that you’re okay. I didn’t want to say anything in front of everyone else, but, uh, yeah.”

“Oh!” Your eyes widen as he references your scars. Three days ago, you broke your sober streak once again. Today, they’re faint, but still visible enough to be seen if anyone were looking. Apparently, Kai was. 

You move your hand behind your back quickly. “I’m okay, I just-”

“You don’t have to be ashamed of them, Y/N.” He swallows hard. “I have them, too.” He moves his leather bracelet to reveal a scarring wound, fresher and deeper than yours. It hurts your heart to see. 

“Oh, baby!” You exclaim, grabbing his hand without thinking twice. Kai watches in confusion as you kiss his palm, but then step back just as fast as when you grabbed him. “I’m sorry! I totally forgot my boundaries. I, are you okay? Those are deep.”

“I’m fine, it doesn’t bother me.”

“I shouldn’t have touched you. I’m sorry for that, too.”

“It’s okay. It felt… nice,” he admits quietly. 

You nod. “Hey, um, do you want to come with me? I’m headed towards the Grill to study, but if you’re up for it, I’d rather be there with you.”

“Yes,” he replies immediately. Then he looks towards the house, “but-”

“Don’t worry about Damon. I’ll shoot him a text that you’re with me, and he’s smart enough to not piss me off. Mmkay?”

“Okay. But if you don’t mind me asking, are you sure you’re okay in, uh, that respect?”

You sigh, “not really. But I will be someday. You?”

“I’m not really okay, either. But uh, this is my first time feeling like I might have hope. Helps to know someone who understands.”

Smiling, you gesture in a question if you can take his hand again, which he allows by extending it out to you. You clasp your fingers together, kiss his knuckles, and then reply, “I do understand you. And if that gives you hope to get better, I will gladly be that person for you.”

[real-life-senshi]

Thank you to the folks who voted on the poll and made a decision for me. lol Since 80% of y'all told me to post, here is the final product!

SilMil AU Mars's power awakening (pre-transformation)

As opposed to the present-day Sailor Senshi team being able to transform as soon as they receive their transformation items, I envision the past-life Senshi needing to train loads to hone their powers, so all of them can use their elementary powers to a limited extent even without transformation.

I'm very excited with how this piece turned out, especially with how the bow and the flames looked. I actually wasn't too sure where I was going with this when I started, it's like Mars was guiding me along the way to make sure this looks as epic as I could make it. XD

I toyed with the background quite a bit and was torn between the gradient black-to-red background or a plain gray background. The gradient with the flame speckles seems to give a better vibe. But a plain gray one also looked pretty cool, and I could see the different glow better from a lighter background. ✰🔥✰

I had to add the Senshi transformation item/the communicator-looking gadget on Mars's wrist. I TOTALLY forgot about that in my initial wip post, and had to go through episodes of PGSM to find the best screenshot for a good reference. lol

Now let's see if I can keep this up with Venus, Mercury and Jupiter's. :P

[steadfastsaturnsrings]

WIP Wednesday/Teaser Thursday!

Thanks for all the tags: @jesuisici33 @cal-daisies-and-briars @daffi-990 @exhuastedpigeon @spotsandsocks @watchyourbuck

I am back with another snippet of there may not be meaning (so find one and seize it) all snippets here!

Previous snippet here! Snippet afterward here!

So you may notice that this snippet occurs before some of the other ones I posted, but some of this snippet is key to some future stuff I am writing so I want to make sure everyone is all caught up :)

Trigger warning for reference to suicidal thoughts/ideation. Again, Buck is not actually suicidal but Bobby thinks he is here.

(No pressure tags!):@aspecbuddie @aroeddiediaz @housewifebuck @eddiebabygirldiaz @liabegins @evanbegins @fortheloveofbuddie @wikiangela @hippolotamus @jamespearce9-1-1 @thekristen999 @theplaceyoustillrememberdreaming @pirrusstuff @elgascreamslikehell @ronordmann @smilingbuckley @hoodie-buck @thewolvesof1998 @your-catfish-friend @rainbow-nerdss @wikiangela @wildlife4life @captain-hen @ghostscowboys @bucksbackwardcap @monsterrae1 @theotherbuckley @butraura @loserdiaz @wildlife4life @try-set-me-on-fire @cm1031sr @malewifediaz @eightpackdiaz @princehattric @buckaroosheart @princessfbi @lover-of-mine @bucksbirthmark @disasterbuckdiaz @smilingbuckley @buddstiel @weewootruck and anyone else who wants to play :)

Please let me know if you want to be added or removed :)

If you have already done today, this is your Thursday tag!! :)

"Bobby?! What are you even doing here? Put me down!" Buck screeched as he tried to wrestle himself out of Bobby's arms.

"Easy, Easy, kid. We can talk about this. I-I'm sorry I wasn't there for you earlier. I should've noticed how much you were struggling after that call. But I am here now. What do you say we get a coffee and talk all of this through?" Bobby said calmly in the voice they used for these calls-Buck had now stopped withering in Bobby's arms, his body completely tense and still.

"Wh-What?" Buck said, his voice cracking and barely above a whisper, "Bobby I-1-1-3

Bobby was still holding Buck tightly because he was unsure of what the kid was going to do. He was surprised when the kid had gone still in his arms as he had tried to soothe him, almost as if the kid couldn't believe the words Bobby was saying. That wasn't completely out of the ordinary, but something seemed a bit off. Why would the kid just suddenly give up fighting him? It didn't make sense. Bobby may not know Buckley as good as he thought he did, but one thing Bobby knew for sure was that Buckley never gave up. He had seen him on calls. The kid was very, very stubborn once he set his mind to something. Bobby thought back to one of the first calls the kid had been on. A search for a little girl who had gone missing in the woods. They had searched for hours, only joining the call on the second day-and everyone had exchanged solemn looks as it was time to turn in the rescue mission into a recovery mission. But Buckley? The kid had a look of fire in his eyes as he begged, pleaded, for just a few more hours to find the girl. Bobby and the chief had nodded and decided to humor the probationary firefighter-giving him two more hours which was when true night would set in. Buckley had nodded and had found the girl alive buried under a bunch of rock that had collapsed down the hillside. He had exchanged a hopeful look with Bobby, a twinkle in his eye as he brought the girl back in his arms. Later that week Bobby had decided to invite him to the Bruce Springsteen concert...Bobby quickly brought himself back, this was no time to be getting lost in thoughts.

That was the kid Bobby knew. It just didn't make sense why he would initially fight Bobby and just suddenly give up. If the kid wanted to end his life, Bobby knew he would fight tooth and nail to get his way. Based on this logic, it was a little strange the kid was still up here almost an hour alone and didn't actually make the jump...

The wind began to blow on the rooftop, and Bobby became aware of Buck's uniform-unbuttoned and flapping onto his arms. Bobby was gripping Buck's bare chest....What was going on here??

Bobby opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted when a young redheaded woman, decked out in full mascara and lipstick, dressed in all black with tattoos littering his body stepped to the side of Buck and made her presence known. Bobby thought she looked familiar, but he couldn't quite place it...

"What are you doing? Put him down!" She ordered as Bobby heard Buck groan in his arms. She paused for a second, "Ugh, I should've known better than to hook up with a firefighter."

She put her hands up in disgust and glared Bobby down before walking towards the edge of the roof where the ladder truck was. "Just, call me later if you're free" She sighed, addressing Buck. She turned around and gave a final look at Bobby, "I'll be at home-alone" she sneered before walking away.

Bobby's blood ran cold as he finally let go of Buck, who moved away from Bobby and quickly began to cover himself with a shirt. It dawned on Bobby who the woman was, and his anger began to rise.

[starflungwaddledee]

hii!! i just wanna say your comic and starspeak lore are SO cool omg!! the way you incorporate the essence of the starfolk culture into their language is incredibly creative and very fitting auauagahsahdbsnsnn <3

i'm pretty interested in all the grammar of the language!! i think you mentioned that there's a question particle that kind of works like mandarin chinese, do other final particles exist? little tone indicators in the language seems like it would help mutual understanding between a bunch of mystical star-beings :0

also, if it's been developed yet, how do verbs work in this? granted, i don't know a lot about greek/latin languages or if you're basing the grammar off of them too, but does it lean more towards romance language's crazy conjugations, or a simpler "subject verb noun" structure?

sorry if this is a lot haha i know the language is still a wip, but it's such a cool concept! i think languages are really interesting and the way you incorporate it into kirby is so mmbdbbrnzmxfh✨✨

alright, this one took me a very long time to get to (because i knew it would be long and i've been working on it on and off for a while) and i'm so sorry! thank you so much for your patience veve! and it's been a little while since we've had a starspeak post so let's go!

(i will preface by saying again that the language is still very much a wip which i could change at any time, and that i'm no trained specialist; i'm just doing this for fun and there's a high chance i fully have no clue what i'm talking about 😅)

❓ i'll start with the easiest one of these and go for the question particle!

i think that Celestials are not often doubtful or questioning things, but when they do the particle is an opener rather than a sentence-final (such as ma (嗎/吗) in mandarin chinese). it otherwise works extremely similarly in that it is tagged on to turn a sentence into a question.

so the most common starspeak question particle is tc, almost a mouth sound than a word. the letters are a combination not often used elsewhere in their speech patterns, which i like to think also wraps back around to them being fairly certain of most things they open their mouths to say.

tc is predominantly used when seeking clarification about someone else's experiences, which is probably one of the more frequent times they wouldn't know something in (self-presumed) absolution.

combining it with some other things we've learned; épios (see) and eu (you) we can ask someone what they're seeing presently, where the target of the speaker (eu) is in active possession of the seeing action and vl is an active tense:

"tc vlépios eu?" // "(what's) seen (by) you?" // "what do you see?"

unfortunately in the conlangs current state, moving things around even a little bit throws out the meaning of sentences a lot, which is something i could probably iron out more with significantly more time 😅 "tc eu vlépios?" for example would be closer to "you're seen?" and "tc vlépios-eu?" would probably be like.. "what sight possesses you?", which is... still kind of the same i suppose but it's just an unnecessarily intense way to say it 😂

🥰 okay! question particle done and it was not actually the easiest but anyway; onto the personaliser! "ki".

i'm not 100% sure if this sort of thing exists in other languages or what it might be called to begin researching, but it's ostensibly a way to turn an external item or concept into something internal or individualised

asté (star/s) for instance is a very overused word in their language, understandably. you can use it to refer to gaseous bodies, other Celestials, other non-Celestial beings, or even a specific individual rank within a relationship system. ei asté applies an amount of ownership over the star/s, but still does not make them an individual in their own right. you would most likely use this if you happened to be carting around an actual giant flaming ball of gas

ei astéki however immediately makes the star something more personal, a little soul-deep. maybe it's a warm light inside you, or maybe it's the beating heart of another living being. dropping the 'ei' you could use this as a nickname, though it'd be kind of like calling someone 'person'.

"ei astéki skotei koris eu" // "my stars dimmed lacking you" // functionally just a really big ham "i missed you"

🤏 alright rolling on, last one: a diminutive. this one's easier i think; maybe i ought have started here. oh well!

like it says on the tin, this is to make things small and/or cute! the particle is ró and it is usually tacked on at or towards the end of a word. much like in english i think this is usually done affectionately. though it could be done a little pettily or rudely, being small in size is significantly less of a negatively-judged-concept by Celestials than being low in brightness.

here's some examples, probably the easiest way to go about this one! all of these are actively affectionate, not unlike a pet name?

moiydísró - (small) cheeky one astéróki - small star (personaliser; makes this a clear nickname) ei Vaýtitaró - my little gravity

💬 and then to wrap up, this last part about verbs and conjugations!

answering this one with complete confidence would require that i were a bit better at this and had it more fixed and figured out, but i'll do my best!! i'm not really basing the grammar off any one language in particular (I only use translations to form a rough sound/word and go from there), just kind of what feels like the right sort of vibe.

because i was just doing this for myself and for fun i didn't start out with any rules, just rolled with what i enjoyed! if you were doing conlang more seriously i think it would help to set those rules up at the outset 😅

in its present state, my starspeak seems to me to be a topic prominent language with less individual conjugations and more modifiers; including significant reliance on sentence order and word placement

so instead of having many different words for see (seen, saw, to see) it's more about the placement, word combinations, and other modifiers;

ei épios - me see (a request, often used in place of 'wake up') vlépios ei - seeing by me (active tense added by vl but it's not strictly necessary) eu épios - you see (the speaker sees the target) épios-koris eu - without seeing by you (sight possesses a term for "lack", so the sight itself is lacking. "you don't see clearly", ostensibly.) épios ei prioto - seeing by me before (i saw it earlier)

this is sort of a necessity because right now the overall variety of words is limited; both by the earliness of its development and also because i think that this is a species that might not have needed a lot of words.

maybe they moved the same few hundred words around and minced them up in new ways rather than making lots of new ones. maybe they might have communicated through body language as much as with words (despite how much galacta knight clearly loves the sound of his own voice) or maybe i'll change my mind and they'll be a talkative bunch and we'll have dozens of new words soon 😂

anyway, i hope this is a ~fun and cool answer~ that you will enjoy despite its incredible lateness and sprawling length!! thank you so so much for asking me about the language; as you can tell i dearly love to talk about it despite its nebulousness, and i'm sorry it took me so long to get this out!

[padfootastic]

exam szn is coming up which obviously means ore distractions, as everyone knows. so what better than to come back to tumblr lol so many tag games etc piling up that i wanna dooooooo

so. let’s have a lil snippet time!

thanks for the tag @in-flvx 💜 this one’s from a wip that was supposed to have been finished & posted for jilypad week but,,,,here we are,,,,,

“Sirius!” Lily exclaims. “We were looking for you.”

“Oh?” He presses a quick kiss to her cheek before bending down to pick Harry up, who immediately cuddles into his arms with a tired sigh. Poor baby, must’ve been exhausted by all the excitement at the beach.

“Yeah, regarding tonight—“ Sirius gulped quietly at the way she said that “—Your room is a bit…messy, I’m sorry. We were reorganising and well, y’know how it goes…”

She shrugs apologetically but all Sirius can think about is how she called it ‘his room’. Not the guest room, not the spare, but his room. Sirius’. He once again pushes past the mushy feelings that rise in him at that little distinction.

“Oh, it’s—it’s fine, I can just take the couch, no problem.” Even if his feet tend to hang off the end, and the edges are a bit lumpy, it’s fine. He resolutely doesn’t think about his comfortable Alaskan King at home.

“Of course you can’t!” Lily scowls at him. “We’re not gonna put you in a couch in your own house, Sirius.”

There it was again, the reference to him belonging here. It was a bit presumptuous, slightly possessive but Sirius was a dog at heart, he was never going to turn down ownership.

“Er—the nursery, then?” he asks, confused.

“What, crammed up in Harry’s crib beside him?” she says with a scoff, “Don’t be silly.”

Sirius blinks. “Where am I sleeping then?”

“With us, of course.” He jumps at the voice booming from behind him, clutching Harry tighter to his chest, whirling around to find James munching on a carrot.

“Where did you come from?” Sirius mutters under his breath before straightening up and saying, louder, “And what do you mean with you?”

“Well, like Lily said,” and here he sends a meaningful, entirely undecipherable, look towards his wife who…blushes? “Your room’s temporarily indisposed, the couch isn’t even an option—don’t give me that look, you barely fit on the thing—and the floor is gonna mess up your back worse than it is.”

“Oi!”

“So, our room it is.”

Right. Of course. Because that’s the obvious conclusions. How could he say no?

(Again, he can’t so he doesn’t)

It’s twenty minutes later, after Harry’s been put to bed, thoroughly kissed by his parents and godfather, after James is done with his nighttime turmeric milk and Lily’s put her hair up into braids and Sirius has taken out all his rings and chains and bracelets—that’s when he’s stumped by yet another problem.

How, exactly, are they going to sleep in one bed?

“We’re just going to expand it a little, Pads, don’t worry,” James says, supremely unconcerned.

He goggles at that, staring at the casual wand work. A part of him wonders why this is the extent of magic they’re using to solve this problem—James can conjure a bed Silenced, with his eyes closed—but promptly decides to not dwell on that for everyone’s sake.