#hey remember when i was able to write short chapters?

[httpscomexe]

Ensnared 2

Summary: You finally get your room, but a little jealousy check leaves you ending up in Logan's room instead.

(Find What I’m currently writing by checking my pinned post)

Parings: Yandere!Logan Howlett x PlusSize!Reader

Warnings: (Individual warnings per chapter) Blood, violence, jealousy, injuries, Y/N faints around blood, a little comfort, sixth sense, foul language, separate POV, chapters 3 and further WILL include non-con aspects. Logan is an official warning as approved by the FDA (Food and Drug Administration) because Logan is a DRUG. PLEASE BE AWARE that this will be a NON-CON fic. Do NOT get attached if you do not like non-consensual fiction. I will not change my fic plans because somebody decided not to read the warnings. Let me know if I missed anything. Thank you.

Tags: @sammyluvsfics

Word Count: 4099 (Find all chapters here) Chapter 3

P.S. If you’d like to be tagged, ask in the comments, you also have permission to send an ask, but make sure it is NOT anonymous, so I know your username, don’t worry, I’m scared of confrontation too. But this is a SAFE SPACE where I will not judge. Thank you again.

Logans POV

“Hey, watch it-” His voice broke off as soon as his eyes found her, and he immediately calmed down, his hands now gripping her shoulders more carefully as he held her steady.

“I’m so sorry.” She apologised, taking a step back as he reluctantly let go of her. “Where can I find Xavier?” His ears don’t listen to her voice, instead his eyes are watching the way her lips move as she speaks.

He lets go of her. “He’s probably still in his office.” Her eyes softened, and she seemed to study his face.

“Uhm, where’s his office?”

“Are you new here?” He asks her, and she sort of shrugs before telling him “kind of.” Then he turns around, and heads towards Xaviers office, expecting her to follow behind him. Completely forgetting about the beer he had stashed in the back of the fridge, which was the reason he wasn’t in his room in the first place. But then you showed up.

He reaches the door, and notices a change in her eyes as he reaches for the handle to Xavier's office, then she shot her hands out suddenly, gripping his forearm and keeping him from opening the door. He didn’t mind though, just her touch was sending waves of heat through his body. More words spilling past her lips that he couldn’t hear before she lets go and Xavier opens his office door.

He doesn’t remember the conversation after that. He just remembers staring at her as the light shone on her face from the office light, and he was hoping the image of the way her lips moved would be imprinted in his brain. He knew he had to have you.

“Finally decided to move in?”

“Move in?” He wonders, he’d be able to see you.

More of the conversation goes straight through his head.

“You have healing powers?”He asks, trying to see at least a little interest.

Then more conversation as she answered him. Any longer standing next to her and he wasn’t sure he’d be able to keep his hands in his pockets. Then Xavier brings her into the room with him, cutting the conversation short.

Without even a good night, he just walks away, knowing if he had stared at you for one more second, he would’ve busted just by watching her lips move.

The next day wasn’t any better, he had stayed up all night just thinking about her, and when he got to see her again in the afternoon, he immediately felt better, Vincent trying to hang out with him as usual, but Vincent was nothing special like you were. He needed-

You.

Readers POV

You were ecstatic, it was Tuesday and you would finally have your own room, and Xavier tells you that Logan picked out some clothes as well that you might like. You couldn’t wait as you woke up in the morning, immediately searching for Logan, whom you’ve come surprisingly close to in the span of two days, and you normally found him in his room, just relaxing.

You don’t bother knocking, he’s told you to just come in, so you do. Immediately barging into his room and hopping onto the foot of his bed, his eyes watching you.

“So my room?” You ask.

“It’ll be done by 12.” Groaning, you lean back until you’re on your back, the stretch of your skin hurting the bruises on your ribs and stomach, making you wince. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” You say quickly, groaning as you sit back up.”

“You’re lying, something hurts, what is it?” Your jaw tightens as you squeeze your teeth together, and just before you speak, his bedroom door opens. The same brown haired girl coming in as usual, every time you were in there. You assumed she was Logan's girlfriend, or something in that matter, but he talks so poorly of her.

“Vincent, I’ve asked you to knock.” You notice the change in his tone every time he talks to her. It’s soft when he speaks to you, but when he talks to her he sounds pissed every time.

“She doesn’t.” She shrugs, pointing at you before coming to sit on the bed, but Logan stretches his leg out just before she can sit and join.

“Sorry, but you’re going to have to leave. We’re having a private conversation that she wouldn’t want to share with you.” You squint your eyes, wanting to say he’s lying through his teeth, but it was true. You only trusted Logan with this information.

“Fine. Okay, Lo. Bye, and bye hun.” Vincent turns back around, making a disgusted face as she faces you, but Logan's face matches her disgust when she uses his newly acquired nickname.

“Doesn’t sound the same when she says it.” He tells you, turning back to you. “So what’s wrong?” He tries on the subject, watching your chest as you sigh heavily.

“You know the video I sent you?” You recall the video of the men attacking you.

“Yea, the assholes who tried to kick your ass.”

“Yes. The one dude that ran after me did eventually catch up, and…” You voice softens, and you slowly lift your sweater, revealing the purple and blue bruises that were painted across your stomach and ribs.

“Holy shit, he did that?” He sounded actually pissed as he stood up, suddenly laying you down before lifting your sweater further, only stopping when you hold the sweater at your chest. You weren’t wearing a bra. “Those assholes…” He mumbles, his left hand gently gliding over your bruises. Half of your body wants to punch him, but you know he’s just being friendly. You never took him as one to love physical touch, but he adored being touched or touching someone else.

“Yea, but it’s okay now.” You tell him, watching as he shakes his head before his hand finally lies flat on your lower stomach where there were no bruises.

“No it isn’t, this looks painful.”

You shrug. “Can’t do anything about it.” You whisper to yourself mostly, his eyes seemingly getting darker as his eyes move from your skin to the wall, a thought coming to his head.

“Yea, you’re right.” But he didn’t sound confident as he removed his hand from your stomach and helped you sit up.

“Just don’t tell anyone yet. I don’t want Xavier to over react.”

“I won’t but what about your checkup on Friday?”

“I asked if I could keep my clothes on, because I don’t like revealing my body.”

He wanted to ask why. Why wouldn’t you want to reveal your body? It was amazing, it was everything he’s ever wanted.

“Is that true? Or just an excuse?” You don’t say anything for a moment, not wanting to make the moment awkward but ultimately failing at best. “Darling.” He says finally, leaning forward until his face is just a few inches from yours. “You are absolutely gorgeous, don’t ever think otherwise.” You smile a little, basking in the compliment, ignoring the red sirens in your head.

“Well, thank you.” You awkwardly start to pick at your nails. “I should probably get going, I’m sure you're busy, and Xavier needed me for something.” You lie, some sort of sixth sense beginning to poke at your body. “But text me when the room is done please.” You stand, getting off his bed and he watches you move.

“Of course, I’ll see you later.”

Throughout the next few hours, you couldn’t stop looking over your shoulder. Your body was telling you something was off and you weren’t sure what it was. You were supposed to be safe and feel safe in the mansion, but for some reason, your brain suddenly wouldn’t settle.

“Hey.” A voice comes from behind you and a hand is placed on your shoulder.

“Oh, hey.” You mumble, Scotts hand still on your shoulder as he walks next to you.

“So, Logan was telling me he wanted to hand you the key to your room, but I saw you walking so here.” He holds the key out on his index finger, it dangles from a little chain.

“Why would it matter who hands it to me?” You take the key as you ask the question.

“I guess he wanted to see your reaction or something,” He takes his hand off. “I’m not sure.”

“Well, thank you, Scott. I’ll head upstairs right now.”

“Alright cool, if you need anything let me or Logan know, and by the way we also put clothes in the drawer. Xavier asked us to.” He lets you know before nodding to his friend group. “But nice seeing you, hope you like the room.” He finishes, then jogs off to his friends as you split off into another hallway, making your way up the stairs and to your room.

The second you walk in, you freeze, taking a moment before you could actually close the door. The room was nice of course. You loved it. But they had put a LOT more effort into the room than Xavier had led on. It wasn’t plain and dark wooded like all of the other rooms. Your room was lighter coloured, and the bedsheets and furniture were a girly design. Some are adorned with flower patterns or glittered with sparkles. And you’re surprised.

But that wasn’t what your eyes immediately landed on. No.

It was the bouquet on your bedsheets.

Your favourite flowers, all nicely put into a bow tie, were just sitting there, a little tag on it with Logan's name scribbled onto it. You didn’t take him for one with good handwriting.

You lift the flowers, smelling them. They were beautiful, you couldn’t deny that, but it all felt so wrong, inappropriate even. But you walk over to a little desk with your flowers, noticing an empty vase sitting on the table, already filled with water for you, so you cut the tie on the flowers and gently arrange them in the vase before texting Logan.

You put your phone away, your palms placed on the desk as you stare into the mirror attached to the wall. He had wanted to show you the room at 12, but it was past then. It was already 5 in the afternoon, did he not expect Scott to just hand you the keys? Whatever.

You think, examining the room a little further and opening the drawers to see what clothes he’d purchased for you.

In the closet there were hoodies hanging, and a few pairs of shoes including heels were set on low shelves. In the drawers were the pants, some skirts, short shorts, and a few pairs of sweats. In the other drawer were some bras and panties, all neatly folded. They weren’t exactly your style though. You were a more comfortable person when it came to bras and panties, and what he had purchased were all lace, apart from a few sports bras for if you went out exercising.

You didn’t mind it though. It was sweet of him to put as much time in as he did for you, but you still felt like he overdid it, like he had done more than he was expected to do.

Just then, as you begin to become lost in your thoughts, there’s a knock at your door, and not a second passes before it opens, you had forgotten to lock it, and Vincent's face proves it.

“Hey-”

“Don’t fucking play with me.” She cuts you off, closing the door behind her before storming up to you. “I know what you’re doing, and it better-” She pauses, her eyes landing on the vase of flowers, Logan's name still hanging from one of the stems. “He got you these?”

You nod, taking a step back from her.

“He doesn’t even buy me, his literal fucking lover any flowers, but then he gets you flowers?”

“Wait, you two are-?”

“Yes you fucking idiot.” She raises her voice a little as she speaks to you. “For years now it’s just been me and him, but ever since you’ve shown up, he’s ALWAYS around you and he never stops talking about you, so you need to back the fuck off.” Her finger points at you as she approaches you until your back is against the wall.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know, but I’m not even going at him, I only ever go see him when he asks or if it’s important, otherwise I never actually see him-”

“Don’t lie to me.”

“I’m not.” Your voice finally starts to raise a little.

“Then why the fuck were you in his room on his bed earlier?”

“Because I had a question.”

“He said it was personal.” You pause, your lips slightly parted. “What could that possibly mean?” She scoffs. “I mean are you two fucking?”

“Absolutely not, sorry, I’m not interested in him.”

“Then what was so private that-”

“There was nothing private about it.” It was your turn to interrupt her, and slowly begin to stalk towards her, having enough of her attitude. “I’m sorry that you’re so self conscious about your boyfriend that you have to yell at me and confront me instead of trusting him, but this is not my problem. And for the record, the conversation wasn’t private, so you might want to check in with Logan to make sure he actually loves you, it seems to me he wanted you gone.”

Her face hardens, but she says nothing.

Until her fist collides with your face, pain shooting through your body from the already horribly placed bruise on your cheek.

So you hit back, and it’s back and forth throwing punches, you of course having the advantage from years of hiding and self defence. You punch at her until she’s on the floor before climbing down on top of her, hitting more punches to her face until there’s a shooting pain in the side of your thigh, making you scream in pain and fall off of her as she gets on top of you, leaving her knife in your thigh as it was her turn to punch your face, her knuckles mainly colliding with the already bruised part of your skin. Then she’s lifted off of you, thrown against the wall and you see her fall back to the floor out of the corner of your eye.

Groaning, you sit up. The knife is still sticking out of the side of your thigh making it painful to sit. You look up, and Logan is speaking to Vincent, but you couldn’t hear it. Then you shake your head a little, numbing the ringing sound of pain before gripping your bed frame and hoisting yourself up on the leg that wasn’t injured.

“So you fucking stab her?”

“She attacked me first!”

“I highly fucking doubt that.” He turns around, noticing you were not standing with beads of blood dripping down your thigh, enough to make it down to soak into the shoes you were wearing. “Are you okay? Hey, stay still.” He tells you, rushing over to help you stand.

“Don’t fucking help her, look at me!” Vincent demands, pointing at her face, her nose obviously broken as trails of blood seep past her lips.

“Yea and you fucking stabbed her!” He grits his teeth, trying not to yell since it was already most kids' time to fall asleep.

“She fucking started it.”

“No I didn’t…” You mumble, looking up at her with hate, wishing Logan wasn’t there so you could punch at her again, but you knew he would easily peel you off of her.

"I don’t care who started it, we need to get both of you to the nurse.” He finishes the argument before easily lifting you, making sure to be careful with your wound.

“Oh so you’re not gonna carry me?”

“Shut the fuck up and get the door.”

At the nurse, she doesn’t ask for an explanation. She simply takes care of Vincent, who was lucky she only had her nose dislocated, before asking Vincent to leave as she came over to you, Logan sitting behind you as you stood on your good leg.

“So I see Vincent doesn’t like you either.”

“Either?” You ask the nurse as she inspects the wound on your thigh.

“She tends to believe that every girl is after this boyfriend of hers, but no one knows who her boyfriend is.” You squint your eyes and look back at Logan.

“She said you were her boyfriend.”

“I’m not.” He growls. “She’s a fucking psycho.”

“She sure is.” The nurse mumbles, knowing she shouldn’t be expressing her opinion. “Wish you had broken her nose, then I wouldn’t have to see her.” She admits, grabbing a clean cloth from a counter.

You groan, dreading the moment the knife would have to be pulled from your body.

“So this is going to hurt obviously.” She tells you, bending down next to you and gripping the knife handle.

“Wait.” You say quickly, just before she’s about to. “Uh… I don’t-” You’re suddenly nervous. You knew it would need to be removed, but you really didn’t want it to be. You always got oozy around blood and sharp objects, such as knives and needles.

“Okay.” She nods towards Logan, who reaches forward and wraps his arms around you, holding your arms down to your sides and keeping you still.

“Logan-!” You scream, biting your teeth down in pain as the nurse pulls the knife out of your thigh, and it takes a moment for some reason, making her have to pull with more effort before it finally comes loose, a pained whimper leaving your lips as it comes out, blood pooling down your leg and onto the floor a little before she quickly covers the wound with the towel, Logans arms still wrapped around you.

“See the wasn’t so bad-” She looks at you, expecting to see your eyes fall on her, but they were closed, and your head was limp.

Yea, you’d passed out. You told her to wait for a reason, but she didn’t give you time to explain why. You knew you were going to pass out, and it was a good thing Logan was holding you, or you would’ve already been face planted on the tile floor.

“Oh.” She says, surprised. “She’s fainted.”

Logan's eyes squint in confusion as the nurse turns away and his finger gently is placed under your jaw as he continues to hold you, the nurse wrapping the cloth around your wound as she goes to collect what she needs for stitches.

He looks down at you, moving your head so it rests under his chin as he presses a soft kiss to your head. One you would punch him for if you were awake.

“I'll probably have to medicate her. I don’t know if it was the knife or blood that bothered her.” the nurse tells him, kneeling next to you with a kit to stitch the wound.

“It was probably the blood.”

“Which wouldn’t be too good. She’ll have to replace the bandage in the morning and a few more times, meaning there will be more blood until it heals.”

“I can help her.”

“What exactly happened with Vincent and her?” Logan looks down at you, making sure you were still faint before answering her.

“Vincent just walked into her room, yelling at her. Then she punched her.”

“Oh, Vincent is- well she’s something.” The nurse says, just as your eyes twitch slightly, but you keep them shut, your head spinning as you feel the needle the nurse was using go into your skin.

“Yea, Vincent is annoying, she can be a piece of shit. But Y/N only has a certain amount of patience. I just can’t believe Vincent punched her.” How did he know that?

“Yea, I’ll be sure to suspend Vincent, I know she has a home outside of the mansion.”

“And what about her?” He looks down at you, eyes still closed.

“Well, I know she didn’t start it, but she did still fight back instead of trying to get away. So I’ll have to send out a suspension for her too. Vincent will have her three days, then when she gets back, it will be Y/N's turn, we don’t want them outside both at the same time.”

There’s a clipping sound as the nurse cuts the wire she was stitching you with, and she stands, some blood on her gloves as she looks at you, your eyes finally opening.

“All done darling.” She smiles sweetly, nodding towards Logan so he lets you go.

“Thank- thank you.” How did he know Vincent had punched you first? He wasn’t there and no one actually described what had happened yet. You were with Vincent from when she arrived to when she left, neither of you had told Logan who did what first, only why.

“Of course, now was it the blood or knife that made you… faint.”

“The blood.” You mumble, hating even the word.

“Okay, well are you alright with Logan changing the wrap twice a day? So you don’t have to walk all the way down here?” You nod, and feel Logan take a deep breath, your back still against his chest but you feel too exhausted to move.

“Alright. Well, he’ll help you to bed of course, let me know if you need anything, and let me know if it starts to bleed profusely. As a matter of fact maybe you should sleep in the same room together.” She throws the idea out there as she cleans her area. “It would be smart in case you do wake up in blood, you’ll wind up and faint then bleed out.”

You turn to look at Logan, who only shrugs. It was up to you.

“Yea… I guess that would be a good idea.” You sigh a little, not exactly excited to have to sleep near Logan for the sake of your life.

“Alright then, well you two have a good night then.” Logan shifts behind you, then lifts you again as the nurse shoves a bottle into his pocket. “Only two a day, painkillers, she doesn’t have to take them, but she should only need them for the next two weeks.”

“Thank you, Ronda. Good night.”

“Good night.”

He places you on his bed, making sure you’re comfortable sitting before going to his drawer and taking out a shirt.

“Go ahead and take those off, they’re covered in blood.” He tells you, and you hesitate before looking down, your shorts ruined from blood, then you shift a little to make space and remove them, it’s painful. “Here, shirt too.” You look down again, yes, of course the shirt was ruined.

You sigh a little, pulling your shirt off over your head before quickly taking the shirt from him and replacing your last shirt. “I’m sorry for what happened-”

“How did you know?”

He freezes, and stares down at you.

“Know what?”

“That she was in my room.”

“I didn’t know. I was going in there to see how you liked your room but walked in on her kicking your ass.”

“For your information, I was kicking her ass.”

“This says otherwise.” He points to your thigh, wrapped in bandages, and you chuckle a little.

“Yea, if she hadn’t stabbed me though, I would’ve won.”

“I’m sure you would’ve.” He tells you, moving around the bed after switching off the lights to sit next to you, and he lifts his shirt off over his head, giving you a moment to look down at his toned abs before looking away, his shirt barely covering his eyes for a second.

“Wake me up if you need me.” He tells you, opening the pill bottle and handing you two pills.

“Thank you.”

“Do you need water?” You shake your head, taking the pills dry before he turns off his bedside lamp. “Okay, then good night.”

“Good night.” You echo, lying down next to him after turning out the lamp on your side as well.

And as your eyes close, the pain in your thigh subsiding, he falls asleep way before you, the bed shifting as he moves his weight closer to you. Except he doesn’t touch you like you expected him too, your body stiffening at the thought.

Behind you, his hand pauses as he sees you stiffen, you could feel his hand had gotten closer, the only reason he hadn’t touched you was because of the fear he could smell off of you. Fear he knew he would have to demolish.

[solar4seekstron]

(Requested) I Still Love You Part 2

TFRID 2015!Optimus Prime x Cybertronian!GN!Reader Oneshot

Part One

Content: 16+, Reunion is perfect for reader and OP here.

Introduction Movies/Series Oneshot Masterlist

TW/Tagss: Small cursing, mostly angst and wholesomeness, Cute sparkling moment at end. You’re welcome, sad op, happy op!, Bee is literally their adopted child watching his parents get back together, that’s pretty much it someone said i sucked at writing so no sex in this one.

Note: Mind you in the first chapter before he got his glow up that made him bigger then Megatron. Reader was basically the same height as Optimus was to Megatron. Like a couple feet? Hope that makes sense…. Remember this for later in the story. :3

Also I just see Optimus in this as he does in the prime series. And you can agree or not no shade to anyone who likes this look of Op in this series. But- I honestly hate the way he was designed. They made him so ugly. Bring back Prime!Optimus, I miss that twink!!

It’s been years. So long since the start of a new era for Cybertronians for you and the other Autobots.

You continued to work alongside Bee and the others.

Even helping him when he was chasing a certain red bot alongside with his rooki…Well? If you were being totally honest you were just passing by with some energon and noticed the red car when he almost ran you over.

He was able to miss you when you transformed so he’ll go over you. Then transforming and seeing a way to stop hi with a short cut. Bee far behind.

Slowly getting closer. From there you would run into bee and say your hellos while his rookie tried to talk all high up with the red bot.

After Bee would leave to handle the situation after seeming off.

He said he said Optimus. But that couldn’t be possible. Could it? You didn’t pay much mind and went your seperated way.

Time went by and appearently Bee was back on earth.

You decided to pay him a visit and you stayed with him ever since. You honestly didn’t spend much time on earth while you were with the decepticons still.

It was honestly very peaceful. The two small humans were very sweet and you got along with the other bots with Bee. The red bot Sideswipe at times flirting and the blue bot Strongarm doing the same.

Now that you think about it. You haven’t seen Arcee, Bulkhead, and Ratchet for years.

One day while out for patrol and dealing with the decepticon Thunderhoof. Who was able to catch you by surprise. You were able to get a good punch in him though.

But before you could call for a pick up. Steel jaw was able to get behind you and pin you down. This is his first time fighting you.

Since your were bigger the two kinda struggled. Thunderhoof kind of having.

Better hand since he was stronger.

After a bit of back and forth, the two were able to escape. You then made your way to the base to the others. You rubbed the back on your helm as you spoke.

Looking down. Little did you know Bee was talking to a certain bot after a certain even that happened while you weren’t around.

“Hey Bee, I’m sorry I’m so late, I was just-“

You stared with wide optics in shock. Bee and the others standing behind him. Fixit and the humans slowly backing up. Optimus.

YOUR Optimus was standing there with wide optics. Almsot sad.

It was silent for a good moment. Bee trying to break the ice. “Uhhh.” Bee said uncertain. Optimus glancing at him for a moment. You then spoke with a sigh.

”Bee if this is some sick joke? Nice try new prototype but it already took me so long to accept his death. So.”

You have walked up to him and gently poked his chest. Optimus just staring down at you with a frown. You’d then walk past them.

Trying to hold in your tears as you made it into you private sleeping quarts in the base.

Everyone having their own with locks on them.

You leaned against the wall next to your berth on the floor. Sliding down as the memories of the old him before his death started to appear into your mind. Tears slowly falling down your cheeks.

Little did you know, Optimus was standing just outside your door. Able to hear your soft cries. Unsure of what to do. His cervo up, looking like he’s about to knock.

He then slowly backed away. You needed time to process. He undertstood that..

——————————————————————————

Later that night. Another signal of decepticons was found. You walked out and spoke to bee, he was surprised. Telling you it was Steeljaw and Thunderhoof once more.

You just nodded and thought. Already knowing Optimus was somewhere ont he other side of the junkyard talking to the humans.

At least that’s what you heard.

You spoke to Bee who seemed unsure. “I’m more recharged. I can handle those two cons easy.”

You gave him your usual smile. He just sighed and gave you permission. You drove off just as Optimus was making his way to Bee and the others as you left.

Sad as he spoke to bee and the others around about where you were going.

He then drove after you. Bee and the others watching.

The other bots with curious optics. While Bee watches with worry. You continue to drive, getting closer to the two cons who were waiting for you.

You’d then transform behimnd the cons, taking them by surprise and pointing your blaster behind their helm.

One thing led to another. Steeljaw trying to smooth talk you.

Giving Thunderhoof the chance to jump you. But Optimus was able to get there soon and stop him.

You and Optimus able to hold yourselves against the cons even as back up came. He tried to speak to you.

Like watch out for that punch or kick.

You did but never responded and knock out two cons.

The others retreating, able to take their passed out cons with them. You and Optimus stood there for a moment. A bit out of it while putting your swords and blaster away.

You were the first to speak. “I’m getting too old for this. I’m too rusty.”

You started to walk away. Optimus seeing and walked closer. Then grabbed your wrist stopping you as he spoke.

“Y/N please, will you just speak to me? I know this is a lot. But I really am here and I just….I..” You turned to look at him with a blank expression. Then spoke once more once you pulled your wrist back.

”Look I don’t know wat sick joke my mind is playing with me. Trying so hard to convince me that you’re real but I ain’t falling for it! So do us both a favor. And leave. Me. Alone.”

You then walked away into the forest to where the cons went. But as you got deeper.

Optimus stopped you. Wrapping his arms around you from behind. His helm lowered to be next to yours. His dermas against your shoulder as you were lifted in the air because of him.

You then spoke as your legs moved. Your arms trapped thanks to his arms around you. “Let me go! You aren’t real!”

You continue to struggle and slowly started to cry.

Eventually your struggle slows down as tears fall down.

Optimus slowly kneeling down with you gently. You now sitting with your back against his frame. He continues to gently hold you. Staring down at you with soft optics.

You continue, all the built up pain and tears building up.

You then slowly turning your frame half way to face him as your cervos gently hit his chest. His arms remains around you.

Gently placing soft kisses against your helm. You speaking between sobs as your optics remain shut.

”You’re suppose to be dead! You- you aren’t-….you aren’t….”

You continue to struggle. Optimus just watching you, until you calmed down. Kissing your forhelm as the sun slowly got closer to sunset.

After a few minutes, you slowly calmed down.

Just resting against his larger frame now while his cervo gently rubbed your back.

The other on your lower back holding you close.

As you slowly calmed down and wiped away your tears. You slowly looked up at him and asked with a quiet voice.

“How?”

He then responded. His voice still deep and soft as always. But almost in a whisper to match you.

“The Primes believe you and Bee will need me for what is to come. I know this is a surprise, my sweetsaprk.”

You let out a soft sigh. Slowly closing your optics as your helm rests against his chest.

You both stayed that way for a while. The sun only a few minutes from setting. You then open your optics and speak to him. You both talking for the next ten minutes about everything.

When he passed. How you tried to move on. How you both left things pretty much unfinished since dying for the lives of Cybertron to be born.

The conversation becoming more and more heartfelt.

As the sun was setting at last. You both finally descided that there is a chance once more for the both of

you. Just llike it was years ago before. Both of you agreeing to reconnect once more and work together at least. Since it seems he wont be going anywhere for now.

You both then watching the sun set. The sky finally dark and the city quiet. Still in his arms as you rest your helm and frame still against his.

His own cervos amd arms keeping you almost warm and close. That is until his cervo moved to your chin and gave your dermas a gentle kiss. You both taking in this moment for a little while longer.

You placed a cervo on his cheek while the other remains on his chest.

The kiss continued for a while. Optimus soon getting a comm call by Bee asking where they were. Optimus then answered letting him know you both were fine.

Just talking things out. He was telling half of the truth.

When he disconnects the call, he returns to giving you soft kisses. This continueing for a good while.

—————————————————————————-

After an hour you and Optimus drove together back to the base. You both being the complete opposite then when he first came to the base. Making the bots very confused. Bee though was basically over it at this point.

Your and Optimus relationship continued to grow and get along. You two becoming Conjunx once more after a few months went by. Primus you missed feeling him…

———————————————————-————————

A year went by since you all continued to stay on earth.

One day, while you and Optimus were out on a small well deserved date. The cons were able to get an upper hand on the bots with a weapon that caught them off guard.

Thunderhoof and Steeljaw started walking around as the others stayed to make sure the bots don’t escape.

They then open your shared sleeping quarters hoping to find the both of you asleep since it was quiet. But instead there was just a rather larg crib with a peaceful little sparkling sleeping in the dark.

The two cautiously walking in. They then looked at the sparkling. Steeljaw then speaking. Being very stunned.

“Wow she’s a….perfect mix of the two.”

That’s when the sparkling woke up and saw them.Soon starts giggling and reaching for then. Steeljaw then picking her up and letting her gently nibble on his sharp digit while he grins.

Thunderhood then spoke. Not always thinking about the tone of his voice.

”Damn! Big red and blue bot already got to her before us! Created a cutes baby at that no doubt.”

His voice caused her to start crying. Steeljaw chuckling and trying to calm her down as he held her up while Thunderhoof covered his audio sensors. “Now now little one, don’t want your carrier and sire to know you’re in danger now do you?”

She continued while Steeljaw slowly got annoyed. When Thunderhoof noticed a shadow he turned around and froze.

Then pushing his cervo on Steeljaw shoulder gently. When Steeljaw turned as he looked annoyed. Only for him to freee in terror when he saw you both. You with your cervos on your hips and Optimus looked madder.

His cervos clenching tightly as he stared down at the two.

The little sparkling then starts giggling when she saw you both. Even reaching while Steeljaw slowly sets her back into her crib and slowly backed up with Thunderhoof who looked terrified.

Optimus then closing the door behind him while you pulled out your sword. Both of your optics bright and angry. While Thunderhoof and Steeljaw started shaking.

Their optics bright as well.

The others were already saved and started locking up the others as they heard the commotion from the shared sleeping quarters. After what seemed like a whole minute. You walking out with your sparkling in your arms giggling and cooking.

Optimus behind you dragging Steeljaw by the tail and Thunderhoof by the antlers.

Both passed out. A least now the two know to never mess with the former leader of the Autobots and the former decepticon generals sparkling.

Ever again.

Since y’all are begging for a second part and a reunion, I decided to finally make a part two. Didn’t feel right to make it where there’s reunion sex and all. So I hope this was still enjoyable. I can def see reader and Optimus bring very protective parents.

I hope you guys enjoyed this and as always a repost is appreciated! Hope you guys have a good rest of your day and see y’all I’m the next fic.

[noc1818]

A Score to be Settled - Chrollo X Reader Fanfic

Hey everyone! I've had this idea for a Chrollo fic swirling around in my head for a while now, where Chrollo wrongs the reader, who's also from Meteor City, during their childhood. This event impacts them so deeply that they’re willing to go to any lengths to seek revenge and settle the score. This chapter is just the backstory leading up to the main plot. If you're interested in reading more, let me know—I’m really enjoying writing it and have a lot more I want to explore! Plus, it’s a fun project to help me get back into writing again. I truly appreciate any support!

Also, this is mostly unedited because I was too excited to share, so feel free to let me know if anything needs fixing!

A few warnings for this piece: Dark themes, death, angst, and intense struggles for survival.

Chapter One: The Debt

Meteor City - Residential Area, 1984

Digging through the scrap was a common occurrence in Meteor City. It was the only way to survive. It always astonished you that people would just throw out and dump some of this stuff without a second thought. Had they never had to scavenge for food or clothes? The idea of having a roof over your head and some form of food security felt like a distant daydream. But that was not your reality. Even at such a young age, the harsh truth of Meteor City was ingrained in your very being.

This had always been the case, at least since you could remember. Your first true memory was when you were five years old, hiding in a broken refrigerator with your little sister, Sumi, who was only two at the time, from some less-than-favorable characters searching the area. That was the reality for all the kids in Meteor City—except for Sumi. She was always a ray of light. Even in the darkest moments, she could spin a positive outlook, which, while uplifting, was sometimes a bit overwhelming.

Recently, she’d been going on and on about a group of kids, she’d met who performed shows for anyone willing to watch. Every day, she came back excited, telling you all about the latest show and its colorful cast of characters. You had promised her that one day you’d go with her to check out the performances. But the reality was that most of your days—hell, your entire childhood—had been spent scavenging and trying to make the best shelter you could for Sumi and yourself.

Still, if you were honest with yourself, your efforts were starting to pay off. You had gathered enough food and non-perishable goods to start a stockpile for the coming winter.

Not only had you been gathering food, but you had been saving Jenny, hoping to accumulate enough to get you and your sister out of the city. At thriteen years old, hidden in your makeshift shack and buried deep within an old metal tea kettle, you had quite a bit saved up. The reality was that it wasn’t much, but to a child with nothing, a hundred Jenny could change a life. Soon, you and Sumi would leave this scrap heap behind and start a real life. You’d be able to give her a solid foundation and a secure future.

As if on cue, scrambling down the narrow paths between the trash heaps, Sumi appeared. She ran toward you in her oversized pink sweater, patched and worn where the fabric had torn over time. She wore frayed blue shorts and dirty old sneakers. As she approached, you noticed her shoes were untied again and made a note to try to teach her how to tie them properly.

Upon seeing you, Sumi immediately called out, “Big Sis!”

Looking up, you gave her a warm smile and a wave. “Sumi, be careful running like that! You might fall!”

Hearing your call, she slowed down and made her way to your makeshift shelter. You had found a space between two scrap heaps, covered with metal sheets that mostly kept the rain out during downpours. You’d draped a cloth over the outside to help keep out the cold and block prying eyes from seeing inside.

Sumi walked over with a big smile, immediately hugging you tightly. “Big Sis, the show today was so cool! They were doing a musical.”

You hummed in acknowledgment of her excited ramblings. Your focus was more on her worn shoes and thinking how you might be able to get her a new pair. But Sumi bright, attentive eyes and her soft call of your name brought your attention back to the present.

“Y/N, are you listening?” she asked, tilting her head with a playful smile.

You nodded, ruffling her hair as you gave her your full attention. “Yes, I’m listening. Tell me all about the play. You said it was a musical, right?”

Sumi’s face lit up as she started rambling in detail about the play, the songs they sang, and the performances. It made you happy to know she had found something that made her so happy and allowed her to still be a kid.

Sumi’s gaze then shifted to the bread rations you’d found and set out for the two of you. She eagerly sat down on the dirt, ready to eat.

“Also, Big Sis, my friend from the play... Can she come over to eat sometime?” she asked, her brown eyes filled with hope.

Typically, you would say no. It was hard enough to feed just the two of you. But this was another kid—another kid from Meteor City—and she made your little sister happier than anyone else could. So, with a reluctant sigh, you nodded, saying, “Sure, but just her, okay?”

Sumi’s eyes widened, and she beamed. “Oh, good! She’ll be so excited when she gets back!”

That last part caught your attention—when she gets back. You wondered what Sumi meant by that, but rather than ask, you focused on the task at hand: getting something to eat. Hunger was often your main drive, having never truly been full your entire life. The two of you ate your bread and chatted the night away until it was time to sleep. You shared a torn-up mattress you’d found one day.

As your sister fell asleep the moment her head hit the pillow, you found yourself wide awake as always. The night was especially cold, even with the cloth covering the sides of your shelter. The cold air still billowed in, leaving you shivering to your core. Unable to sleep, you quietly got up and made your way outside.

Despite the chill, it was a beautiful night. The full moon illuminated the ruins of the city, casting a soft light on the heaps of metal scrap. The sky was clear—a rare sight since the smog usually made it nearly impossible to see the stars. But tonight, they shone bright and radiant, lighting up the darkness.

Little did you know, that on such a peaceful night, your life would change forever because of one mistake.

The sound of scrap being knocked over in the distance caught your attention. Despite your maturity for your age, your curiosity got the better of you. You crept toward the sound, the noise growing louder with each step. Expecting to find an adult out to cause trouble, you peeked cautiously around a corner. To your surprise, there stood a boy, slightly older than you.

He had his back to you, but you could make out his raven-like hair, which ended just above his ears. He wore a yellow-striped shirt and grey shorts, his sneakers as worn out as those of the other kids in the city. You also noticed his pale complexion. But it wasn’t just his appearance that caught your attention—it was the palpable anger radiating from him.

The boy was frantically searching every crevice in the piles of trash, looking for something—or perhaps someone. When a spot didn’t reveal what he was searching for, he would kick and throw things, sending the scrap tumbling down. But it wasn’t just his actions that struck you. There was an energy about him, an intense, almost suffocating wave of anger and despair that filled the air, making it feel heavy and thick with emotion.

You stood frozen, unsure of what to do. You had never encountered such a crushing presence before. The weight of his emotions was almost too much to bear. It took him a while before he realized someone else was there.

He turned toward you, taking a moment to process your presence. Even at his young age, it seemed like he was studying you, trying to figure out who you were. His expression was unreadable, but your silence seemed to provoke him. Without a hint of fear or caution, he started walking toward you. You weren’t surprised—after all, what could a bone-thin girl like you possibly do to a boy older than you?

As he drew closer, you noticed something you would never forget—his eyes. Steely grey, cold as steel, eyes that no child should have. They held a depth of pain, rage, and fear. It was as though his gaze could pierce through you, reading your every thought. The emptiness in them was unsettling, yet beneath that emptiness was an ocean of raw, unspoken emotion.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. His gaze remained locked on yours, unflinching. Then, in a voice that matched the indifference in his expression, he asked, “Why are you out here?”

You hesitated for a moment, processing his question. Finally, you answered in your quiet, almost inaudible voice, “I couldn’t sleep... it’s freezing.”

He listened, his eyes still fixed on yours, and after a brief pause, he nodded slightly. His tone remained flat, as if unaffected by the cold, the silence, or even the raw emotions swirling between you. “I suppose it is quite cold tonight,” he said.

You ask him the same question in return. “Why are you out here?”

Without hesitation, he responds, “I’m looking for someone.”

You raise an eyebrow, puzzled. Why would he be out here, so late, searching for someone? And what’s more, he’s dressed lightly, yet he doesn’t seem bothered by the cold. Curiosity laces your voice as you ask, “Wouldn’t it be smarter to search in the morning, when there’s daylight?”

A flicker of annoyance crosses his face, as if that option simply isn’t available. “Not possible. I’ll find her tonight.”

Normally, you would’ve dismissed him, turned away, and continued with your own business. But he’s another Metor City kid, and something in the back of your mind nags at you. He’s not dressed appropriately for the cold, and if he stays out here like this, he’ll get sick. You remember finding a man’s jacket a while back, one that was too big for you or your sister, and you think maybe it’s time to put it to good use.

“You’re going to catch a cold out here like that,” you say, a note of concern in your voice. “Come with me for two seconds, and I can give you a spare coat we have.”

Your tone is free of malice, just genuine care, and that catches his attention. He gives you a curious glance, eyebrows furrowing as if trying to decipher your intentions. Every kid in this city knows that nothing comes without a price, that nothing is truly free. So when he speaks, his words are cautious.

“I don’t need the jacket.”

His dismissal stings more than you expect, and you sigh, visibly irked. You take a few steps toward him, frustration settling into your voice. “Just take it. We don’t need it.”

At the word “we,” he raises an eyebrow. He’s perceptive, you realize. He takes a step closer, and you suddenly feel the suspicion radiating off him. “You have others with you?”

The question catches you off guard for a moment, but you recover quickly. “Yeah, my little sister, Sum.”

He pauses, his face unreadable, before asking, “You’re Sumi’s older sister? You must be Y/N, then.”

Your eyes widen in surprise. How does he know your name? You raise an eyebrow, and he chuckles, a smirk tugging at his lips.

“Ah, my apologies. Sumi talks about you a lot. She’s always at shows with me and the others.”

That explains it. He must be one of the performer kids Sumi has befriended. You smile, relieved to understand the connection. “Oh! You’re one of Sumi’s friends. She never stops talking about all the shows you all put on. I hear about it all the time.”

“I’m glad she enjoys them so much,” he says with a chuckle. “My name’s Chrollo, by the way. It’s nice to officially meet you, Y/N.”

You extend a hand to him, offering a handshake. “Nice to meet you too, Chrollo.”

As you both shake hands, the conversation continues, and you press him once more to take the spare jacket. He doesn’t seem to trust easily, but the fact that you’re Sumi’s sister seems to put him at ease enough to accept the offer. You can’t let one of your sister’s friends freeze, after all. In your world, you cherish the small acts of kindness, especially when life is so unforgiving.

When you lead Chrollo into your home, you notice his gaze lingering on Sumi, who’s still fast asleep despite the chilly draft in the room.

“She sleeps like a rock,” you say with a smile, reassuring him. “Don’t worry, we won’t wake her up.”

Chrollo raises an eyebrow, then shifts his attention back to you. “Really? She always seems so happy, so it’s not surprising.”

“She’s always been that way,” you reply, a fondness in your tone. “She’s able to find the bright side of things. I’ve always admired her for that.”

“That’s an admirable trait, but a bit naïve,” he remarks, his eyes scanning the room. “And you, Y/N? Which side do you find yourself on?” His intense gaze meets yours, as if he already knows the answer, as if he’s searching for something more.

You hesitate before answering, taking a moment to collect your thoughts. “While I’d like to see things in the best light, it’s not always something I can afford to do. Life is tough, especially in the city. I’m sure you know that. I guess, if anything, I’m just realistic.”

Your words hang in the air, and you meet his gaze. Life hasn’t been kind, not forgiving, and you’ve learned to take things as they are—even if that means accepting a certain darkness. It’s how you survive. It’s how you cope.

Chrollo watches you as you pull the coat from the cooler you’ve repurposed as a storage bin. You turn to hand it to him, but before you can react, he’s right there, standing so close that you nearly jump in surprise.

“Oh, my—” you start, startled. “You surprised me, Chrollo.”

He chuckles lightly. “My apologies. It wasn’t intentional.” He accepts the jacket with a graceful nod. “Thank you for this.”

You watch him pull the coat on. It’s a bit oversized now, but in a few years, it will fit him perfectly. The jacket is a unique shade of royal purple, with white fur lining the neck and sleeve ends—definitely a one-of-a-kind piece.

“Well, Y/N, I have a search to continue,” he says, turning to leave. But before he pulls the sheet up to shield himself from the cold, he pauses and looks back at you.

“I’m also a realist,” he says, his voice quieter now, almost contemplative. “But there’s something so lovely about dreaming, isn’t there? I look at this life from both spectrums. Sometimes, I even think those dreams we chase so desperately can become our reality—if we push hard enough. Just something to think about.”

With those final words, he leaves before you can respond, disappearing into the night.

You stand there, staring at the door as his words linger in your mind. At first, you feel a sharp irritation. He didn’t ask for your opinion, so why did he offer unsolicited advice? And as for his belief that dreams could be turned into reality with enough force—that seemed utterly delusional, especially for kids like you, or anyone from Metor City. Hell, you’d be lucky just to make it to eighteen.

But something about what he said sticks with you, curling into your thoughts like a stubborn seed. You don’t dwell on it for long. You curl up next to Sumi, trying to shake the thoughts away, and drift into sleep. But as you do, you can’t help but wonder… what if, just for once, he was right?

 The next morning, you wake up to the sound of Sumi’s sobs, her distress pulling you from sleep. Instantly, you pull her into a tight hug.

“Shh, Sumi, it’s okay. Tell me what’s wrong. Are you hurt? What happened?” Your voice is steady and calm, a skill you’ve mastered over the years, both as her big sister and in moments of chaos. You’ve always had a knack for calming people in hysteria, and Sumi, in her younger days, gave you plenty of practice.

After a few minutes of reassurance and gentle prodding, she starts to calm down. She looks up at you, her eyes wide and teary, her lip trembling.

“Big sis, it’s… it’s all gone. Our food… our money… it’s all gone,” she says, before breaking into fresh sobs.

At those words, your heart drops. What does she mean? Gone? Your stomach twists with dread.

You pull away from Sumi for a moment, moving quickly to the cooler. There’s no way it could be empty. But when you lift the lid, your breath catches. The cooler is completely bare. All the food and supplies you had gathered for months—some even for years—are gone.

Frantically, you move the cooler aside, only to reveal an empty hole beneath it. The kettle where you kept all your jenny, your coins, your savings—also gone. There’s nothing left.

Panic rises in your chest. How could this happen? Who could have taken everything? Why didn’t you hear anything during the night? Your mind races with a hundred questions, each more frantic than the last. Beneath it all, though, a seething anger begins to bubble. How could anyone do this to kids who had nothing?

But then, Sumi’s sobs break through your clouded thoughts, pulling you back to reality. This is where you need to be the bigger sister. You need to calm her down, to give her the reassurance she needs, even if it means making false promises in the moment.

You pull her into another tight hug, patting her head in an attempt to soothe her. “Shh, Sumi. It’s going to be okay. I’ll figure it out. We’re going to be just fine, I promise.”

Your words, however, don’t seem to help. Sumi’s crying only intensifies, her distress deepening.

“No, Y/N, it’s not! It’s almost winter! I may be younger, but I’m not dumb. I knew it took you almost all year to gather what we had, and that was mostly lucky finds. This is my fault!” she says through ragged sobs, her nose sniffling.

“It’s no one’s fault, Sumi,” you reply, your own voice breaking slightly. You can feel the tears welling in your eyes, but you fight them back, continuing to hold it together. “We’re going to be okay. I’ll figure it out. Everything will be fine, I promise.”

But Sumi, seeing the tears in your eyes, crumbles further. “Big sis, you don’t understand. This is my fault! It was my friends at the play. They took our stuff. I shouldn’t have told Big Sis Sarasa where we live. She must’ve told the others. But I don’t know how—she’s been missing for a few days now!”

Your heart sinks, piecing together exactly what’s happened. It was Chrollo. He and his friends took everything. You allowed yourself to be blinded by the fact that he was another kid, someone you thought you could help. But instead, he took advantage of your kindness.

It takes everything in you to hide your shock. You can’t let Sumi see your own pain and disappointment. Instead, you swallow your anger and fear, and lie to her, thinking that protecting her from the truth is what’s best.

“Sumi,” you say, forcing a smile, trying to sound reassuring, “I bet your friends are just borrowing some food from us. Nothing to worry about. They’ll bring it back soon, okay?”

You can see the doubt in her eyes, but there’s a glimmer of hope there too. That spark—the same one she’s always had—begins to flicker. “Prove it, big sis. How do you know?”

You take a deep breath, hoping the lie doesn’t show in your eyes. “I just know, Sumi. I’ll make sure everything’s okay. I promise.”

Even though she doesn’t fully believe you, the fragile hope in her eyes is enough to make you cling to your own false reassurance. For her sake, you need to keep it together, even if it’s falling apart inside.

After Sumi had calmed down enough to be let go, you stood up, needing some space to think and to get some fresh air. You reached for the jacket you had thrown haphazardly over yourself the night before to stay warm, and as you put it on, a small white note fell from the pocket. Sumi, too absorbed in her tears, hadn’t noticed it before.

You hesitated for a moment, but your curiosity got the best of you. You unfolded the note, already knowing who it was from. It could only be one person—Chrollo.

The note read:

Y/N,I am sure you are angry, and rightfully so. It was nothing personal, of course—just my family needed it more than yours. Take this as a lesson and grow stronger from it. Never trust a stranger, no matter what they look like.Best of luck, and do take care of Sumi. Thanks again for your generosity.

As you read the words over again, the initial shock wore off, and a seething anger filled you. That bastard had taken everything—everything—because he could. And now he had the audacity to call it a lesson.

Your blood boiled. You would find him. You would make him pay.

In the midst of your fury, you didn’t notice Sumi, still sitting on the floor, glance over your shoulder and read the note with wide, curious eyes.

“Big sis? What does it say?” she asked, her head tilted, voice uncertain.

You froze for a moment, her question catching you off guard. Then, your mind raced. You knew Sumi couldn’t read—something that, under normal circumstances, would be a problem. But today, it was a relief. More than anything, you wanted to preserve that spark of joy in her eyes, to keep her from losing that innocence and hope.

With a forced smile, you turned to face her and lied through your teeth.

“Oh, it’s just a letter from your friends. They’re gathering more food and are going to bring it to share with us.”

At your words, Sumi’s face brightened. The sadness left her eyes, and joy returned to her expression as she beamed up at you. “Really, big sis? That’s great!”

You nodded, offering her a reassuring smile, though inside, your mind was still spinning with your plan for revenge. Sumi spent the rest of the day telling you about the shows and how amazing they were. You listened, but your thoughts were elsewhere, planning the next steps, knowing full well that your reality wasn’t one that relied on hopes and miracles. You would have to be ruthless to survive in this world—and you would.

Meteor City – Residential Area, 1995

Years later, you found yourself standing once again among the scraps of Meteor City, holding a small yellow daffodil. You gazed down at the modest grave, an unreadable expression on your face. Deep inside, though, the wound was still open and raw. The stone atop the grave was crudely carved with the name Sumi. Her grave was one of the few places in this wasteland where life seemed to thrive—a small patch of grass and flowers growing amidst the decay.

You offered a faint, sad smile, thinking that even in death, Sumi brought hope and life wherever she was.

Your mind wandered back to that brutal winter in 1984 when you lost your little sister. After the Phantom Troupe stole everything—your food, your money—you were left with nothing. For months, you scavenged, but it was never enough. The freezing nights and lack of food took a toll, and Sumi grew terribly ill. You searched high and low for medicine, anything that could save her, but the world wouldn’t help two poor kids from Meteor City. Every time you tried, you were chased away or kicked out.

As the weeks dragged on, one night Sumi’s fever spiked too high. You held her until she fell asleep, but then you heard it—those final, shallow breaths. That’s when you knew. Your sister was gone.

Now, standing over her grave, you reached into the satchel you carried and pulled out three items: a ticket to a masquerade ball, a key, and new identification papers. These were the tools you’d carefully acquired through a contact to forge a new identity—a whole new life in Yorknew City. They were your tickets to escape Meteor City, to avenge Sumi, and to strike at the heart of the Phantom Troupe. You couldn’t let them know who you truly were.

You had devoted your life to this, to rebuilding yourself and taking them down—especially Chrollo. He was the one responsible for her death. It was all for greed. But that was going to end now.

Looking once more at Sumi’s grave, you made a vow, your voice firm and steady.

“Sumi, I swear I’ll come back once the debt’s been repaid. After all, we’ve got a score to settle.”

With that, you turned away and walked towards the tinted car that waited to take you to the next step in your journey. The road ahead was long, but it was one you would walk with purpose. Chrollo Lucilfer—the leader of the Phantom Troupe—had no idea what was coming for him. You would make him pay, and you would not stop until you did.

[thatone-brightstar]

More than all the stars (Carmy Berzatto x Fem!Reader) (The Bear & The Fox Series)

Chapter 3: My darling, my dearest, my dead.

Words: 4k

a/n: Hi, hello!! so we finally meet the dreaded ex and even though you can imagine who you like, since writing it i always had Oscar Isaac in mind bc THAT MAN MAKES ME FEEL THINGS and also he makes one hell of a villain so you can't really blame me.

anyway, enjoy the chapter and remember that reblogs and comments are the way to show appreciation for your favorite creators and lmk if you wanna be added to the taglist!

Chapter 2.

He could have done more than just stand there- looking at her with that stupid expression over his face- the one many use when all the words have evaporated into thin air. But then again, what could he say, especially to someone he assumed he’d never see again? Her expression sat stoic, apart from the slightly raised eyebrows waiting in expectation, there was nothing in her face that revealed the storm inside her head.

“So?” She spoke over the ringing in his ears and brought him back from his memories. “You gonna say something or just pretend I’m not here?”

“Uhm, H-hey…?”

“Hi.” She repeated with certain disdain and a dry smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

He felt like a fish out of water, mouth rounding around the words but never able to truly push them past his throat. “Wha- what uhm, what are- uh…”

“I’m on holiday.” She answered for him and shrugged, cutting his torture short, though he thought that was more than he deserved. “I wanted to see what the great Beef of Chicagoland was all about…” Ross added and let her eyes wander from his to the dimly lit and emptied room.

Something about her analytic gaze made him stand straighter and rub the back of his neck in anticipation for her verdict. 

“We’re, uh, renovating.”

Ross offered a single nod and a weak hum as her serious expression landed back on him. “Makes sense.”

A still silence fell over them again, forcing Camry to fidget with his knuckles and take another long drag of the already wavering cig. He wondered if the lack of conversation had always felt so stagnant between them- like the middle of July- or if time had truly taken a toll on their interactions. He heard her shuffle against the newspaper covered glass once more, but didn’t dare to raise his head until she spoke again.

“I heard about your brother…” She started, cracking her knuckles out of habit. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

“S’fine.” Carmy answered instantly, the words had already nestled into a permanent space in his mind, but at least for her, he knew they were genuine. “Thank you.” He said and added “I’m sorry for, y’know… everything.”

A slight curve around her mouth broke the cold glare settling over him and despite the somber tone around them, the simple action let a wave of fresh air pass into his lungs.

“What part exactly?” Ross asked, digging her palms into the back pocket of her jeans and moving slowly in direction to the dusty counter. “Leaving with no explanation? Not even letting me know you were alive… or for being an overall idiot for as long as I’ve known you?” 

The refreshing bluntness of her tone pulled out a soft chuckle from his knotted chest and he couldn’t help but nod in agreement. Carmy reached again towards the packet resting beside him and lit another tube between his lips, waiting, as if the words were magically hidden between the embers and smoke. 

As she waited for an answer, Ross pulled out the stool a few feet beside him and took out a cigarette without asking, it’s not as if he would have said anything anyway, at least nothing other than:

“You smoke now?”

Ross shrugged again and sucked the smoke into her mouth. A gleam from her left hand caught his eye. Carmy couldn’t help the surprised expression falling over his face at the sight of a thin gold band wrapping around her delicate finger, or the shimmering stone that was placed upon it. 

He signaled with his head in direction to ring. “That’s… new.” He said.

She pulled her hand back at arms length and admired the perfectly polished stone with a new spark behind her eyes, as if the owner of said promise reappeared in her memories each time she looked at it.

“Yeah… you remember Frank?” 

Carmy’s expression grew even more surprised at the mention of his former co-worker. The one that Ross, if he remembered correctly, didn’t even give the time of day. 

“Yeah…shit, Frank?” He asked, incredulous. 

“Ugh, gross no.” The girl answered and Carmy’s shoulders fell in relief. “One of his cousins.” 

Her eyes went from the shimmering rock to the plastic covered pop machines they had yet to take out and Carmy could almost see the memory of her lover replaying over her softening features.

“We uh, we met a month after you left… I guess it just clicked.” She shrugged and finally turned to him.

From up close, he could see how much her face had truly changed. There was little trace of the jovial features he had known, yet the spark in her eyes remained. It wasn’t for him anymore though, that much he knew, and it would have probably affected him more a year ago than it did then. 

“Finally someone my age-“ Ross joked and slightly swayed in his direction. Carmy sniggered back, relieved that the tension was slowly withering away. 

“I’m glad.” He responded sincerely as a gentle smile unfolded over his features. 

The girl nodded slowly and smiled back, tearing her gaze away and refocusing it back to the lit tube dangling from her fingers. 

“How’d you know?” He blurred out the thought that had been kneading itself in his head for a few weeks now.

“What?”

“Y’know… that he’s- that they’re, y’know-”

“The one?” She answered for him in a teasing tone that made him roll his eyes but nod back.

The room went quiet as she thought, only his foot continuously tapping against the floor in angst was heard. Ross’ brows slowly raised up as her eyes examined his nervousness closely, then she turned her body fully towards him and leaned against the counter.

“I dunno, honestly.” Her response was simple and he tried to swallow discreetly so as to not show his disappointment. “It’s different for everyone.” She reassured. His eyes rose expectant to her face once more. “I felt… peace. Like I can finally breathe and I’m not struggling to hold my head above the current anymore.”

Carmy knew the feeling she was referring to, the consistent pressure crushing his lungs that no amount of cigarettes could numb out but that suddenly, the single thought of you, fixed. The weight that fell off his shoulders as soon as he crossed the entrance to your home and the glee on your face as you saw him, that was the peace she was referring to. You weren’t the bandaid that temporarily taped up his shitty moods, but the whole damn antibiotic that eradicated the virus altogether.

“Listen, I-” Ross stopped abruptly to gather her scattered thoughts, exhaled loudly, then continued. “I just wanna get it off my chest. I did like you, Carmen, like a lot, but… we would have torn each other to pieces.” Her sigh came out like a nervous chuckle.

He nodded again and swallowed hard, taken back. “Right- yeah no, definitely.”

“With Jonathan it’s easy. It’s like breathing, just second nature. And in spite of everything that went on with us, I still mean what I said before… I do hope you find that one day.” For a second, her features softened into the girl he had known more than a year back, the one who had truly seen him when no one else had. 

Your face instantly appeared in his mind. That morning at the farmer’s market, the cold breeze had tainted your soft cheeks pink and the fuzzy knitted scarf swallowed half your face whole. His chest felt like it could concave suddenly and he felt like an absolute idiot for not realizing it sooner.

An uncontrollable grin spread around his face, raising his flushed cheeks up to his eyes. He coughed slightly to clear his throat but it only fused with a soft snigger that filled him with an unfamiliar warmth.

“Yeah…” He exhaled as his eyes caught the same shimmer as the stone. “Yeah, I think I have.”

“I’m glad.” Ross repeated his words back, nothing but honesty clear on her face. 

**********

The dull and foggy sky mirrors your mood as you mark your steps over the cobblestone, bouquet held tight in between your gloved hands. 

You haven’t visited since the funeral, it had been too painful to do so. One loss after another had been enough to topple your fragile mental health and you were sure that if you had visited before being ready, it would have guaranteed a similar headstone beside hers. Despite the slight jittering of your fingers though, you’re sure of every step you take, careful to move around the more weathered graves.

Your heart leaps in your chest once you spot the space reserved for your grandmother. The headstone is more dramatic than the ones that surround it, but then again, she never did anything small. There’s a carved limestone angel that guards her sleep as it rests with crossed arms over it, wings wrapped around the slab. It still looks relatively new, despite sitting in the hard Chicago weather for a year and part of you feels guilty for visiting after so long, but you know she would have understood. 

Your nose has started to freeze with the chill wind and you use one gloved hand to wipe away the rogue tear that tickles your nostril, before slowly stopping in front of the grave. 

“Hola abuelita.” You whisper and sniff with difficulty. “Te traje Claveles.” 

The dead grass snaps quietly as you sit cross legged and lay the vibrant flowers right under her name. With empty hands, you begin to play with the loose threads of your worn out gloves as you search for something to say. ‘Not like you can hear me, anyway.’ you think to yourself bitterly, then a humorless chuckle escapes when the image of her, slightly smacking the back of your head, comes to mind.

“Sorry.” You reply instantly, as if she could see your thoughts. “I’ve never been good at this sorta thing, you know me.”

The morning is mostly quiet, despite a few chirping birds and the light traffic that sneaks past the trees, everything is still. 

“Nice place you got here…with the shade n’ everything- Mom says hi. I asked Papi si quería saludarte, but he says he’ll come by next week as always.” Your throat begins to close up and you try to clear a pathway with a few subtle coughs.

You reach out to clean off the few petals that fell from the dried flowers your grandfather left last week and another batch of tears bundles over your bottom lashes. You’ve always admired their love, the kind that transcends even after the other is gone, because ‘til death do us part’ doesn’t really carry any meaning when you truly love someone.

A softer smile takes the place of the teary one as the memories of Sunday mornings sitting between them and watching old movies invades your mind. She’d braid your hair with dexterous hands as you watched various men porcelain their love to a young Rita Moreno through the black and white screen. The whiff of coffee and cigarettes from your grandfather felt like home and the loving whispers they’d share with one another behind your back put the prettiest bird songs to shame. 

“A lot’s happened since you left…” Your voice carries out through the wind, but you like to imagine that it's taking your words to her. “I met someone- not the asshole I told you about, you were right about him… someone else. His name’s Carmy. You would’ve liked him, Papi does, pero ya sabes como es, he won’t admit it. He’s been through a lot, but he’s still really sweet. He’s a fighter… I think he’s the one.” Your epiphany goes quiet in the secluded cemetery and your heart starts to beat even faster as the words sink in.

You’ve come to the conclusion that the bad thing about being surrounded by so much love is you’re always searching to replicate it. Your grandparents loved you so much, that the need for a father never even crossed your mind, and they loved each other even harder that all you ever wanted growing up was a love like that of your own. You went through countless partners in search of “the one” and always came out empty handed, but she was always there- with her cafecito and old movies- to pick you right back up. 

What scares you now is that she isn’t there to pick you up if anything were to happen anymore, and after Isaac, you’re not sure if you can go through another broken heart as bad as that one.

You huff out a hard sigh and wipe your cheeks a little too hard, tainting them pink. 

“I’m sure.” You repeat again a little louder to drown out the critical thoughts. “No- yeah, I am. I am.”

The distracting vibration from your phone pierces the calming silence and gives you a chance to leave the vexing thoughts behind.

“What-”

“-the fuck did you do?!” He yells from the other line as soon as you answer, making you pull the phone away from your ear.

“Hello to you too J-“ 

“What the fuck did you do-” Your brother interrupts again and you roll your eyes. “-I just saw that lanky tall guy from your old job drop my mom off at the house!” 

“Really? That was fast…” 

His frustrated groan vibrates across the receiver while you unfold your legs from under you and stand up. You place a quick kiss over your fingers and place it over the tombstone before moving back to the entrance. 

“I don’t know what the big deal is, she’s an adult, she can go out with who she wants.”

“Yeah, exactly. Who she wants, not the first asshole you put in front of her.”

“Oh, you jealous you’re not the only man in her life now, huh?” 

Joshua scoffs and you can imagine how he impatiently rolls his eyes before mumbling a ‘fuck you’.

“Fuck you too, dude. Why don’t you get a life and stop worrying about what my mom does with hers.”

“Fine- but when she comes home crying cause that fucker broke her heart, Imma send her straight to you.”

“Fine!”

“Good!”

He doesn’t wait for another response before ending the call. You shove your phone back into your coat with a huff and pull your car keys out instead.

**********

There isn’t much you can do during the winter classes. Since the day recedes to night earlier than usual, the courses have been shortened to an hour long, which then shrinks to 45 minutes after trying to get the kids settled into their stations. Only after months on the job do you  finally understand the vexing task of a sheep herder.

By the time the sky has gone from blue, to orange, to an angelic lilac, only two little ones remain and you’ve been making the most out of their cooperative nature by having them haul their drying works into the back. They do so excitedly, between debates over which dinosaur is the best and why it’s the T-Rex. The conversation brings a smile to your face as you hear their voices slowly fade away from the inside storage. 

It’s a few minutes past 8 when the bell from the entrance door dings and a sigh of relief exits your chest. 

“In the back!” You call to whoever arrived.

While the echoing steps move closer, you turn with your attention fully on the jar of paint that doesn’t want to screw on correctly. Once you get it right and the steps have stopped a few yards away, you look up with a kind smile that vanishes as soon as your eyes settle on the man in front of you.

Your lungs have stopped working completely. Your fingers hold a deadly grip on the jar, bending the plastic with enough strength to turn your knuckles white. Without taking your eyes off him, you blindly settle it back down on the cart and try to regulate your racing heart and breath.

The moment you see him again, everything stops in the most terrible of ways. It feels like standing by the edge of a panic attack, but not falling all the way through, just feeling the waves of cold  sweats traveling down with every heaving breath. In an attempt to ground yourself, your fingers dig into the rough fabric of your apron, instantly absorbing the wetness of your trembling hands and for a second you swear that if you were brave enough to look down, you would find your guts splattered all over the wooden floor.

“Hi Uncle!” The little boy rejoices once he spots the man and walks to your side, oblivious of your hardening gaze on his guardian.

You swallow down the sickening sweetness that your afternoon tea had left in your mouth. “Kenny, where’s your mom?” You rub a hand over his hair with a forced smile.

“She had  a late meeting.” The man’s strong voice vibrates through the walls with little effort, the sound ringing in your ears.

“This is my uncle Isaac.” Kenny adds as if you didn’t already know and the simple mention of the name rips your gut open once again.

You keep your eyes glued on the child, thinking that maybe if you don’t acknowledge the man disturbing the room, he would vanish into thin air like a mirage. ‘Or combust violently’ the voice in your head muttered viciously.

“Can you be a dear and take the last reference pics to the back? Inside the red basket, please. And then grab your bag, okay?” You indicate with a last gentle pat over his shoulder.

He salutes then runs to the doors and out of earshot. With another shaky breath you turn back to the paint cart and try your best to swallow down the knot of bile that has begun to grow.

“I need a permit from his mother to let him leave with a stranger.” You state as calm and collected as your growing anxiety allows you.

His deep chuckle reverberates through the crystal walls and lands on your skin, chilling it to the touch. “What, so I’m a stranger to you now?” He asks.

“You’re nothing to me as far as I’m concerned.” You scoff as you push the cart back to its original place, doing your best to calm the nausea that the memories of seeing him at the charity event are causing.

“Oh, cut me some slack, I’ve been trying to apologize.” 

“Yeah, and what’s that good for?” You spit out instinctively, turning around with new found irritation.

The look on his face is full with triumph and your palm itches with the need to punch the smug off his dumb face. You wish you had the same courage as that night, when you followed him out the gallery with every intention of denting his jaw, but that kind of bravery only comes with alcohol and there is unfortunately none in sight. 

“C’mon Fox…” He says through a sly smile and takes a step towards you, immediately making you take one back.

“Don’t call me that, you don’t get the right to call me that after what you put me through.”

There’s a stare in your eyes that would send any sane man running for the hills, but Isaac has always been anything but. He takes it as a challenge instead, tilting his head to the side like a hunter analyzing its prey, with a toothy grin that exposes the canines in an almost charmingly vile way.

His eyes drag slowly down your body with an obvious gesture, one that has you crossing your arms over your chest to shield as much as you can from his view. “Then what can I call you? Mi amor?” He says instead.

“Call me nothing, no soy tu amor.”  You mutter through gritted teeth and move quickly around the room to finish collecting the last of your supplies. In the back of your mind, you rush the kids to finish quicker, but their debate keeps them too entertained.

“Oh, but I recall how much you used to love it.” His words slither out with venom and his eyes narrow in satisfaction when he notices you stop fully in your tracks and give him another angry stare. “Did you forget how much fun we used to have?” 

“I remember how you fucked up my life-” You remark over his words, but he speaks over them again. 

“Remember when I took you to The Met?” With each word, the bile in your throat feels more inevitable, clawing its way higher up. “How you thanked me so well for the trip in those lacy blue-”

“-Yo babe, sorry I’m so late-” His booming voice invades the room as soon as he appears past the exhibitions, bringing a wave of fresh air into your dying lungs. “-Cousin finally got the permits from Cicero so-”

Ava’s excited footsteps charge out the back and towards her dad, followed by a calm Kenny carrying a Spiderman backpack. The excitement from the children is enough to trigger your migraine but it doesn’t matter because you’ve never been more thankful for Richie’s terrible time management skills. 

When he finally has his daughter securely in his arms, Richie’s eyes dart from you to Isaac, finally feeling the thick air that stays stagnant between you. 

It only takes him a second to notice your stance, the hardness of your jaw and the menacing stare you give the man beside him. “Am I interrupting anything-“

“No.” You’re quick to answer. “They’re just leaving so…”

Kenny stretches his hand up to take your high five goodbye and promises Ava they’ll finish their debate tomorrow while Isaac doesn’t move. He’s still, with a defiant gaze that feels like minutes, then he swings Kenny’s bag over his shoulder and takes a few strides in your direction, stopping less than a foot away. You don’t retreat this time and despite the height difference that’s more obvious up close, you eye him down with all the anger you can muster. 

He pulls something you can’t see out of the pocket of his coat and brings it up to your view. The signed permit rests between his index and middle finger as he offers it to you, but once he sees you won’t take it, he flicks his wrist towards the desk beside you and lets the paper fall lazily over it. 

“I’ll see you around…" Isaac whispers like a menacing promise. "the paint suits you, by the way.” It’s low enough for only you to hear and the smile that goes along with his denigrating tone makes your face turn in disgust. 

Your gaze launches daggers at his back once he turns and takes the small boy by the hand, disappearing past the installation and your lungs only stop burning when the bell dings a final time. 

“What’s that asshole’s problem?” Richie mutters, hand over Ava’s ears and stare lost in the space left empty. 

The desk beside you has never felt more sturdy than the moment you let yourself fall back on it, the adrenaline has finally left  your system and turned your legs into jelly. It screeches lightly and makes Richie turn his head towards you, concern evident once he spots your colorless face. 

“Hey, hey kid, you okay?”

“Wha- yeah, yeah I’m fine. It’s Just um… it’s just been a really long day.”

“Yeah…” He plays along and takes a few weary steps towards you. “Probably doesn’t help that you’ve been smellin ‘ this shit all day either, huh?” He says, taking one of the closed jars with his empty hand and scanning the label.

“Yeah… that’s probably it.” You reply absentminded as your eyes focus past the glass, hoping to not catch sight of the man. 

“Mhm…” Richie repeats in the same tone. “Listen, I know cousin’s got your car and he’s still at the restaurant so if you pack your stuff now, I'll drop you off at home.”

You nod a few times, eyes still on the glass, then with another heavy sigh, you clear your throat and push yourself off the desk. “Yeah, that’d be great. Thank you, Richie.”

You move quickly behind your desk and pull out your already prepped bag and keys- careful to not let him see the wayward tear that the strange confrontation has left behind- before tucking your hair behind your ears and giving him a thin lipped smile. 

“Thank you.” You whisper towards him.

Richie shrugs his shoulders and the little girl that’s already falling asleep over them stirs lightly. 

“What’s family for?” He replies and for the first time since you’ve met him, both his voice and demeanor carry a strange serenity that makes you understand why his daughter is peacefully asleep by the time she reaches her car seat. 

Taglist: @pearlstiare @teteminne , @beebslebobs, @harrysmatcha , @yum-yahgurt , @pussy-f41ry , @kirakombat , @redsakura101 , @hobisunshine13 , @feyhunter78, @xeneth99 and that's it lmao

[therealvinelle]

(A question for both you and muffin)

What speed do you guys write?

I feel like you guys must write at such an incredible rate based on the work you produce in such a short amount of time. Any tips if you have any to increase output would be appreciated!

You were lost in the drafts! I'm so sorry.

To answer your question: it depends a bit on the fic, but typically we write as fast as we're typing, then get distracted, then write, then distracted. Sometimes we take turns being distracted.

It used to be we'd outline the entire chapter in great detail, but as we've gotten this down to a routine it's bullet points.

It's very relaxing and meditative.

As for how we're able to write that fast, I think it's threefold:

We're both picturing how a given scene should unfold, and then writing down what happens. I don't come up with a character's dialogue, I'm just writing what he said and describing how he says it or what he's thinking. Slowness or hesitation mostly occurs when we don't know what happens next or disagree.

No second guessing ourselves over one word or sentence for more than two minutes, no obsessing over getting that perfect sentence down. It was hard at first to get used to, but watching @theoriginalcarnivorousmuffin get ahead and write the good bits while I was contemplating how to phrase the last sentence of a random paragraph taught me to just make a decision.

Validation - whenever I'm unsure about something, or catch Muffin writing some thing I don't love or she catches me, we can discuss right away. While it does happen that we write something, then afterwards one or both say "Hang on. That was really bad!" for the most part writing jointly means there's two people have looked at the text and found it satisfying.

My best advice is to just write, get used to just writing without worrying too much about it, and get yourself an honest person whose opinion you trust (there is a LOT of atrocious advice out there!).

(I also have an anecdote for this: there is an author I follow on a social media, who has written a fairly popular story. They also, like most of us, have reoccurring weaknesses as a writer. They mentioned having gone to a writing group or class (I don't remember which), and receiving feedback on these specific weaknesses. Rather than accept this feedback (which they had sought out by joining the group to begin with!) they came to their followers for validation, making fun of the advice and talking about how stupid the advice-giver was.

The lesson to be learned: constructive criticism can really suck because even though you sought it out, and the criticism you get is constructive and useful, you didn't want to hear it. Therefore, decide before you go if you actually want to risk being told something you didn't want to hear, and choose the criticism-giver carefully because they could be wrong.

The reason I bring this up in a post about writing speed is that you write very slowly when you're unsure of yourself, and insecurity forms a terrifying wall between yourself and that "publish" button. At least, my speed has improved vastly since @theoriginalcarnivorousmuffin became my beta and later cowriter.)

You also want to be careful with planning the story. Planning isn't writing and it often isn't really planning either, it all too often slides right into coming up with headcanons and aesthetics for a complex daydream. If that's what you want to do, go forth, and god knows there's an audience for moodboards and headcanon posts, but if you're serious about wanting to get the story down in writing then you've got to ask yourself whether your plans for the story are in fact plans or not.

I will also advice, insofar it is possible, to not pour too much of yourself into your writing. If it's your darling who owns your whole heart, you're fiercely proud of it, then having somebody say "Hey, this could be a lot better" is all the more discouraging. Abandoning it if it loses traction or you're not sure where to go with it is also devastating. You should love what you do, by all means, but don't tie your self-worth as a writer in the individual things you produce. Even the greats have flops alongside their masterpieces, or just less good works. Focus on having fun and enjoying what you do, drop a project without guilt if you lose passion for it, put it on pause if you want to pursue a different project, and be clear on what feedback you want from beta readers. Fanfiction writing is a hobby, and unlike most hobbies it's completely free. Treat it as such.

Best of luck!

[artist-of-dawn]

So High School

Chapter 7: "heartbeat"

Next: "Suga-san's masterplan"

Masterlist

🌸🍊🌸🍊🌸🍊🌸🍊🌸🍊🌸🍊🌸🍊🌸🍊🌸🍊

The last few weeks have been extremely confusing. First Shoyo comes back and everything feels right again, his smile and laugh and genuine care for me warm my heart, but it seems that there is a line we both subconsiously don't cross. He's here flirting and having fun but it feels too light, it makes me feel unsure about how he truly feels about me and now I'm standing like an idiot near the door just to hear him ringing the door bell. He's supposed to arrive in 15 minutes.

"Don't forget how to breathe yn." Shimizu Kyioko was standing in the doorway to the living room with a small smile, she has always been the stability I never knew I needed.

"I'm scared Shimizu."

"I know. It's okay, It's normal."

"But how do I know if he's genuine? That he doesn't just do this with everyone and I’m just delusional?"

"I cannot tell you what to think of him or his actions, but have you seen him being this way with anyone else?" I hesitantly shake my head. "He adores you. Not more than me though. And you are not delusional at all, at the reunion when he came back he had this lovesick look on his face and talked about you for the rest of the night before koushi got shitfaced and passed out." She held out her hand and helped me up from the floor I was supposedly moping on.

"Yeah you're right. I should worry less." I shake my head and do my best to smile."Love you shimizu" Damn, I am so lucky to be able to call these people my friends. Once in a while these moments really make me so grateful that I have them in my life.

The sweet moment was cut short by the doorbell. Shit. The calm was long gone.

Shimizu took that as her queue to leave the room, winking at me before going upstairs.

I open the door hesitantly before he hugs me. Damn this man. I cannot even feel my heartbeat anymore. He's strong and comforting and all of the things I sometimes admit to long for.

"Hey Sho, ready to enter the life of a model?" He laughed a little.

🌸🍊🌸🍊🌸🍊🌸🍊🌸🍊🌸🍊🌸🍊🌸🍊🌸🍊

🌸🍊🌸🍊🌸����🌸🍊🌸🍊🌸🍊🌸🍊🌸🍊🌸🍊

"You're alright?" Shoyo says suddenly and I slam my phone face down onto the grass.

"Yeah it's just Kei being salty as usual."

"Ah, yeah I remeber you said that you guys kept in contact after graduation." I still remember how I dragged him to the celebratory dinner. I had to paint dino bones and name them for him to learn quicker, some sort of artsy flashcards.

"He needs someone to keep him in check while tadashi is away traveling." He hums in understanding. "Wanna listen to some music?"

He just nods and looks away with a distant, nearly dreamy gleam in his eyes. I wonder what he's thinking about. I shrug and open my phone scrolling and stopped and played a random song.

And so played mirrorball by Taylor Swift.

I dare to dream only for a moment of saying fuck it and just tell him everything there is to say. How I want nothing more than to spend my life with him and that I tried to forget him but failed terribly. That I'd let him ruin all my paints if he came to my house more often and wear his jersey to every game.

But I don't. Not yet.

Sometimes I'm disappointing myself.

I lean my head on his shoulder as he hums to the song. I'll shine for him meanwhile.

🌸🍊🌸🍊🌸🍊🌸🍊🌸🍊🌸🍊🌸🍊🌸🍊🌸🍊

No fun facts this time :")

"Are you gonna marry, kiss, or kill me? (Kill me)

It's just a game, but really (really)

I'm bettin' on all three for us two (all three)"

Taglist: @nymphsdomain @writing-for-the-hell-of-it

[ohcorny]

Hey so. You totally don't have to reply if this is boring or intrusive. But when did you start getting sick of working on the comic? I see a trend of webcomic creators suddenly becoming... almost hateful towards what they made. Like it's more than burn out, like actual vitriolic hate. As someone who's been drawing for as long as can remember and enthusiastically in the process of drawing out my first comic attempt, it scares me. Or at least, I'd like to know is it preventable, are there any tips like make sure not to make the comic too long or make huge breaks between chapters or focus on many other things to draw too so it stays fresh?

well when you consider how old a lot of people were when they started their webcomics (just out of high school-just out of college) and how long they'll have been working on them, and how much can change in your life and thought process and ways of working, it makes sense. it's not Great being shackled to the vision and bad writing habits of my 21 year old self, as a 29 year old. a lot of the stress of NS is not knowing how to end it, because when i started it i didn't have any idea, or any real perception of how long it would take to tell a story. and i think that's the case for a lot of webcomic artists who more or less outgrew their projects. we just want to do something else. and i'm so much happier doing something else, right now.

and if i'm honest, im making way more money than i ever would have if i stuck with NS. that's a big motivator. there's not a lot of money in webcomics alone, but the time it requires doesn't leave room for a whole lot else

sorry you also asked for tips. know how it ends is the biggest one, and everyone says this but: make it short. you are not a mangaka with a team of assistants. you are not going to be able to make that sprawling mult-arc epic by yourself. don't try.

[4urvalidation]

A CASE OF LIMERENCE | Chapter Four

PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER

A/N: I literally cannot explain just how much joy writing this brings me 🥺 This chapter especially! Making all these little social media posts and messages is taxing but so so fun! Hope y'all will enjoy this as much as I did writing/making it ❤🥰

TW: underage drinking, mild sexual content

Two weeks pass by in a blink of an eye and Leni could be exaggerating - after all her arrival here was nothing short of a disaster - but meeting Sarah’s friends has somehow made everything ten times better. Getting to know them is quite possibly the best thing that has ever happened to her. And no - she is most certainly not being dramatic despite what her mother has told her in the past couple of days. 

Rose and Wheezie are still nowhere to be found or heard from. 

And so is Rafe. 

Well, that’s not true - according to Polly he was last seen shopping for groceries. He had his airpods jammed in his ears and seemed to be very deep in thought. She tried approaching him, but got shy all of a sudden. Tess likes to think that despite everything she has said so far, Polly did in fact approach him, but he didn’t recognize her so now she’s both embarrassed and humiliated. 

“Whatchu thinking?” JJ’s breath on her skin tickles. She turns to look at him and their faces are barely inches apart. “Cause I’m thinking we should grab the rest of this to-go and head back to the beach. This dude on TikTok said there’s gonna be some killer waves this afternoon and I really wanna ride ‘em all.”

“Sounds good to me.”

“Same.”

John B and Pope say almost in union and JJ takes this as a sign to go on ahead and holler at Kiara who is standing on the complete opposite side of the restaurant and very clearly working. 

“Kie! Hey! We’re leaving!” She squints her eyes in their direction, her hands full of dirty empty dishes. “Ready to hit your first wave today Berlin?” He then turns to Leni - his smile as bright as the sun shining right above him and she’s about to return the enthusiasm when she suddenly remembers: she already has plans.

“Sure, but… I… forgot I made plans.” Her smile is a sour one; she feels like such a traitor whenever something stupid like this comes up and she has to ditch her brand new friends in order to sit in hell with her old ones. 

“Tess and Polly?” Sarah says from across the table, her face matching Leni’s now wavering smile. 

 “Yeah… I’ve already cancelled on them twice-”

“Well you know what they say, third time’s a-”

“I can’t do it again, Jayj. It wouldn’t be fair.”

“You don’t want me to drop you off a block or something away from the Club?” JJ’s voice tears Leni’s gaze away from the conversation she,Tess and Poly had the previous day. Sometimes, she doesn’t even know why she still bothers. Do they even like her? “Leni?” He calls out for her and when she finally looks at him, the corner of JJ’s lips are spread into a wide grin, but not even the wildest of eyebrow wiggles are able to hide the very obvious concern in his voice. 

Leni shakes her head, “What? No. That’s stupid. You can just park over there and I’ll be on my way.” 

Relief colors his entire face just then and yeah - he is cute. She lets her gaze linger on him for a second longer; contemplating whether she should reward him for driving her with a small kiss on the cheek, but something changes her mind. 

They hug goodbye - quickly with the tiniest bit of reservation from her part and then, as if zero awkwardness occurred she leaves JJ’s car. 

“Finally.” It’s the first thing Tess says to her when she approaches their table. Much like last time, their coffees are almost finished and when the waiter comes to take their second order, Polly gleefully orders an entire pitcher of mimosas. 

The drinks come in and Leni doesn’t say yes when a very full glass is placed right in front of  her. 

But then again, she doesn’t say no either. 

Tess and Polly begin informing her on all the brand new gossip they’ve learned in the past couple of days: Kelce has started seeing Phoebe - a girl Leni for some reason is supposed to know because of a falling out she and Tess had during Midsummers ages ago. Topper - for the millionth time - considered dropping out of Duke to become a pro-surfer, but his evil mom allegedly threatened to cut him off so he’s still going back to school in the fall. 

“And I’m planning this year’s Midsummers!” Polly exclaims happily.

“Oh my god, Polly, that's amazing!” Leni says at the same time Tess mumbles harshly, “And how exactly is that going for you?” 

The smile almost instantly disappears from Polly’s face. “There’s no need for you to be a bitch Tess. It’s not my fault the order got fucked up, okay?” And then, as if none of this ever happened, she’s back to her happy, giddy self. “You’re coming right?” 

“Yeah, of course. It’s this weekend, right?” 

Tess snorts. “It was supposed to, but someone’s order got fucked so it’s been pushed to next Friday.” 

“Oh.” 

Oh. 

Next Friday it’s Leni’s birthday. 

Well - technically it’s on Saturday, but since she was born on the first stroke of midnight, her parents created this tradition of sorts where they celebrate it on the night before. This way Leni gets to welcome her birthday with those that mean to her the most. And although somewhat close, Tess and Polly aren’t exactly the first people she wants to turn nineteen with. 

“Have you decided what you’re gonna wear?” She asks the girls and that’s all it takes for the two to forget the argument they had mere seconds ago. Instantly they pull out their phones; their wish lists filled with cute flowy dresses that perfectly match the event’s theme. None have made their final choice yet and when Leni reveals that she too still hasn’t picked her outfit, they are more than happy to take Tess’ dad’s boat so they can do a little shopping on the mainland.

“Holy shit!?” Polly yelps out of nowhere, “Sofia’s in Tampa?”

“What? Let me see that.” Tess practically yanks the phone out of her hand and now Leni is sitting there, silently watching as they goggle over the Instagram story of someone she’s never heard of. “What the fuck Polly? You follow her?”

“Only through my burner!”

Tess grabs her own phone just then, types furiously and presses the brightly lit screen straight into Polly’s exasperated face, “Then why the fuck is your main our only mutual!? (“It was an accident!”) You literal psycho!”

“Uhm, guys…” Leni’s voice barely manages to push through yet another one of their hushed arguments. “Who… who’s Sofia?” 

“Oh, she’s this girl from The Cut, Rafe used to fuck around with.” Tess says. 

“They weren’t fucking around! She was literally his girlfriend! (“His girlfriend?”) Yes, his girlfriend! Like -”

“No. No. That’s not true. I literally asked him. Last fall, remember? Topper’s Halloween party? You were too busy hooking up with Ellis Carter (“Ew Polly, you hooked up with Ellis Carter?”) I literally said the same thing Leni. Anyways, while you were too busy sucking Ellis’ greasy dick, I was asking Rafe about his little yacht girlie. And do you know what he said to me? (“No! I was too busy sucking Ellis’ greasy dick!”) He said no way, no chance, not even in a million years! “

“Tess! They were dating. Like-” Just then, Polly slides her phone to Leni, desperate to get someone on her side. “Look!” Without wasting a second, Leni begins scrolling through Sofia’s profile. Not because she’s super interested in what Rafe’s alleged ex might look like or in the photos she posts of herself or of him or of the two of them together…

After what feels like ages, Leni finally gives Polly her phone back, “She’s pretty.” The words force themselves out of her mouth, but barely get registered by either of her friends. Tess and Polly are yet in another hushed argument, but unlike the one before, this doesn’t seem like it’s going to be resolved any time soon. 

Silently, Leni stares back at Polly’s phone, particularly at the photo from Sofia’s Instagram that she last opened. She stares at it until the screen goes black. Until the chatter in the table right next to theirs goes silent and all she can hear is Rafe’s name being chanted in whispers. 

Like a manifestation of her wildest desires, Rafe Cameron strolls in and Leni could simply be imagining it, but suddenly the whole place becomes unnervingly quiet. As if his presence had taken everyone’s breath away.

Or that may just be Leni. 

“My god he’s hot.” Polly’s dreamy sigh brings her back to earth. 

“I can’t believe you fucked him.” Leni’s voice feels rough against her throat. Sandpapery almost. 

“I can’t believe it either.” 

She tries her best not to stare in his direction, but it’s virtually impossible - he’s sat himself directly in her eye line, making it rather difficult to look at anything but him. By this time, Tess and Polly have completely made up; their little arguments long forgotten and probably never to be mentioned again, until one of them does something stupid like hook up with yucky Ellis Carter. 

Or Topper. Polly orders a much needed second round of mimosas and soon enough, they’re back on track. This time they’re talking about Ruthie - the girlfriend Topper sporadically cheats on with Tess. But only when Tess feels like it. After all, Ruthie is her friend - kinda - and the last thing she wants to do is hurt her feelings. “Or god forbid break them up.”

Leni stares at her suddenly lit up screen. 

News? 

What kind of news?

She doesn’t like the way her heart reacts when she presses that send button. 

Tess calls her name, grabbing her attention for a brief moment, but then her screen lights up again and none of it matters, “I’m sorry what?” Gingerly holding the phone in her hands, she asks her friend to repeat what she just said, but it’s pointless. Tess’ mouth is moving, but the words are blocked by the sound of Leni’s incredibly loud heart beat.

Leni swallows. 

Almost instantly, her gaze flies in his direction, hoping to catch him red handed or something, but he’s already raced her to it. Those deep, haunting blue eyes are fixed on her with such intensity, Leni is convinced he can see right through her. And because the thought is racing through her mind, she almost immediately looks away - if their gazes don’t meet he won’t be able to see the breath catching in her throat.

She can feel his molten gaze bear holes in her entire body as she does her best to type the rest of the message without her hands shaking. Once finished, Leni tries to steal a glance at him; catch him in the act per say, but once again he’s one step ahead of her.

The only difference this time is the way his eyebrows quirk upwards when she reads the text and looks back at him. Something about that subtle gesture sends Leni’s nerves flying; she no longer feels unnerved about this entire exchange, but rather… irritated. 

But then again, what was she really expecting him to say?

Rose was right. 

He is relentless. 

Who knows what he did to get a hold of her number and really - does it even matter? As long as he never finds out where she is staying Leni is going to be alright. And about that of his number, well, she can always block him.

As a matter of fact, she can block him right.now.  

(She doesn’t.)

PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER

[crystalninjaphoenix]

Welcome to Your New Unlife

Shadow City AU - Chapter One?

A JSE Fanfic

You all voted on the poll for this, so here you go! I wasn't able to finish this week's PNPT AU chapter, but I've had this sitting in my WIPs for a while. Shadow City is an urban fantasy AU where the septic egos are all various supernatural creatures, hiding right under the noses of the everyday people of the city Scuabyrg. Chase is new to this, having just woken up one morning as a ghost. Jackie, Schneep, and Marvin are all friends, being a werewolf, vampire, and witch respectively. And JJ is new in town, moving in along with a mysterious roommate.

It's important to note that I am NOT READY to start posting this AU regularly. Though I've been working on it on and off for a while, I have not really gotten that far, and I'm not really able to fit it into my schedule. I guess I COULD add it into the rotation so I write five AUs at a time instead of four? But quite frankly, I don't want to do that XD There's already a long delay between chapters of my weekly AUs as it is. Maybe if you guys want it, I can post this AU sporadically? When I get to it? Who knows? I just hope you enjoy this 10k word preview, I guess XD

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Chase opened his eyes to a killer headache.

He groaned and closed his eyes once more, pressing his hands to either side of his head. He must have had too much to drink again last night. He rolled over, expecting to feel his mattress or the sofa cushions shift under him... but the surface he was lying on was harder than that. Did he fall asleep on the floor? That was a new low.

It took him a moment to realize he wasn’t alone. There were voices around him.

The headache was already fading, but it still took some effort for him to open his eyes again and look around. He was, indeed, lying on the floor of his living room. Specifically, underneath the front window, pressed up against the blue-wallpapered wall. The floor was carpeted, but the short beige carpet wasn’t exactly soft. Not a good place to sleep. But that was the least of his concerns now, as he saw three strangers wandering around the room. “Hey!” he shouted, sitting up. “What the hell are you doing?!”

The strangers didn’t respond to him. Two of them were talking, standing between the coffee table and his TV stand. The third one was looking down at the brown sofa. He saw her pick up an empty bottle from the end table with a gloved hand and look it over. They weren’t trying to be subtle or careful about any of this. They were clearly visible in the sunlight coming from the open window. Were they robbing him? Who robbed someone in the middle of the day?!

“I asked you what the hell you were doing!” Chase snapped. He climbed to his feet—or tried to, at least. He felt... weirdly floaty. His arms and legs weren’t responding like they should. But he pushed through that and got up. “This is my house and I didn’t fucking let you in! Get out before I call the cops!”

They weren’t even phased by his shouting. Chase felt a spike of fear and panic, and his eyes darted around, looking for his phone. He left it on the coffee table last night... last he knew. He didn’t actually remember... a lot of last night. He didn’t drink that much, did he?

Whatever. His phone wasn’t on the table. But he knew that this house he rented came with a landline in the kitchen. Too bad the archway to the kitchen was through the weird guys in his living room. Chase hesitated, trying to plot a way through them, scanning the living room.

...something was wrong with the sunlight.

He frowned, unsure what it was. Curious, he raised his hand and waved it, staring at the ground to see if his shadow was weird or something.

...

In a way, he was right.

Because his shadow... wasn’t there at all.

Chase stared at the ground. He leaned side to side, hoping that maybe this was just the hangover messing with his vision or something. But... no, he didn’t have a shadow.

“Wh-what?” He breathed, a disbelieving laugh tracing the word. This couldn’t be right. He turned around to look out the window, having the absurd thought that someone was playing a trick on him with a special kind of light.

Outside the window, the small front garden of his house was overrun with more strangers. But... not just any strangers. Some of them were wearing familiar uniforms. And there was a big white van with sirens and open back doors—an ambulance. There was an ambulance outside, accompanied by paramedics and police. All outside his house.

He stared at them for a moment, then turned to look at the strangers in his room again. For the first time, he really took in what they were talking about. “Well if there’s no sign of a break-in, it’s pretty clear what it was, don’t you think?” one of them was saying.

Another one sighed. “Yeah. But it’s just... you want it to be anything else, don’t you?”

“What’s going on?” Chase asked. “Wh-what are you talking about? I-is someone hurt?!” His eyes darted around the room again, looking for something out of the ordinary—

There was a stain on the ground.

To his left. There was a stain on the ground.

A rusty red-brown splatter, partially covering the wall as well.

Blood.

Chase suddenly felt very cold. “What... what’s happening?” he whispered. He looked up at the strangers. They must have been more police officers—or detectives, maybe, since they weren’t in uniform. The two were carrying on with their conversation. The third was standing up and heading down the hallway. Completely unbothered. Like they... hadn’t seen or heard him at all... 

The cold feeling deepened.

“I-I... I-if you aren’t going to answer me, then—then I-I’m leaving!” Chase announced. He headed to the nearby front door, reaching for the doorknob—

His hand passed right through it.

He stared at the doorknob, not comprehending what just happened. Slowly, he reached out again, as if he thought that going slower would help. But... no. His hand passed through it again.

He looked at his hand. It looked normal to him. Maybe a bit pale? He took a deep breath...

Or... he tried to. His chest rose and fell, but he felt no air pass through his nose. Or through his mouth, when he tried again.

He wasn’t breathing.

He didn’t have a shadow.

People couldn’t see or hear him.

And his hand passed right through things.

Was he...?

No. No, this had to be a dream! A nightmare! Panicking, he ran right at the door—and as suspected, he passed right through the wood and ended up outside.

It was a sunny day. It was near the end of summer, before the chill of autumn started to set in.  There wasn’t a cloud in the sky to block the sun from beating down. And there was no wind rustling the clothes and hair of the people outside.

But he couldn’t feel the heat.

In a daze, he moved forward, weaving around the police. He moved towards the ambulance. Towards its open doors.

Inside was a black bag.

“Oh god...” Chase whispered. He backed up again. “F-fuck.” His chest was rising and falling quickly, but it was just a habit, he didn’t feel the air, he didn’t feel the breath—He ran his hand through his hair. He could feel that fine! And... he could feel something on the side of his head. Something he didn’t notice when he opened his eyes earlier.

The spot where his head hurt... it was sticky.

Chase felt his head, to make sure that this was what he thought it was. A sticky, slightly warm spot on either side of his head. His head didn’t hurt anymore, but—fuck, was this what caused it?!

His eyes darted around, looking for something, anything, to explain why this was happening. Did someone break into his house?! Attack him in his sleep?! Was anyone else in the neighborhood hurt, or was it just him?! He couldn’t see any answers to these questions. But... he could see someone looking at him.

Chase stared back at this stranger. He moved back and forth slightly, to be sure that the stranger was looking at him—which he was, as his eyes darted to follow Chase’s motion. This stranger was wearing a blue jacket, which was identical to the blue jackets that some of the other people around were wearing. A uniform? The stranger’s hair was brown, pulled back in a small manbun, and he had a beard that was thick but not too long. As Chase stared back at him, the stranger subtly jerked his head to the side, then walked that way. Did he want Chase to follow him?

He was hesitant at first, but what else was he supposed to do now? This guy was the only person who could see him so far. Maybe he had answers. Chase headed after him.

The stranger had ducked around the corner of the house, leaning by the iron fence that separated it from the neighbor. Now that Chase was closer, he could see the words SPDFI written in yellow on the jacket’s lapel. ‘SPD’... That probably stood for Scuabyrg Police Department—Scuabyrg being the city that Chase lived in, the city they were in right now. What did ‘FI’ stand for, though?

“Well, uh... hey,” the stranger said.

“Can you see me?” Chase blurted out.

The stranger laughed. “Yeah, I can. And hear you, too.” He smiled a bit. “I’m Jack McLoughlin. I work for Forensic Investigation. We’re the people who investigate crime scenes.”

Ah, so that’s what ‘FI’ stood for. “So... why are you... Wh-why can you see me?” Chase whispered. “When I’m... A-am I... Am I... dead?”

Jack’s smile fell and he became serious again. “I... want to be sensitive about this. But... yeah. You are.”

Chase didn’t say anything. He stared at Jack blankly.

“Take a moment to process it,” Jack said gently. “It’s... obviously it’s a lot. You’re probably overwhelmed. That’s okay.”

“I-I don’t... understand,” Chase whispered. “What happened to me?”

“...do you want me to be blunt and tell you?” Jack asked.

“Yeah.”

“Brace yourself, okay?” Jack paused for a moment. “You got shot in the head.”

“I figured that out,” Chase dismissed. He tapped the side of his head. “I felt the spot. But—why?!”

“Uh... well, from what I’ve overheard, they think...” Jack coughed awkwardly.

“Someone killed me?”

“No, uh, not someone... else.”

Chase stared. He felt a sinking feeling in his stomach—or... the spot where his stomach would be, if he had a body. “They think that... it was self-inflicted?”

“Well, uh... if you’re so surprised, they’re probably wrong,” Jack said slowly.

“Y-yeah of course I am! I mean, I’m not—I wouldn’t say I never—But not while my—holy shit my family!” Chase gasped. “They’re going to—oh my god, I—Declan’s going to—Stacy—”

“Please try to calm down.” Jack’s voice was steady. “Focus on the world around you. You are here. This is real.”

Chase took a few more deep “breaths.” Even though it didn’t do anything, the motion was comforting. “I—I didn’t want—I mean, does anyone really want—”

“We’re going to take this slowly,” Jack continued. “One thing at a time. This is a massive change, but it will be okay.”

“Okay?! I’m dead!”

“But you’re still around. That means you still have stuff to do here.”

Chase pressed a hand to his chest. He could feel it. He could feel that. Jack was right, he was still here. “Okay,” he whispered. “Okay.” He nodded, then gave Jack another look. “So... You see dead people?”

Jack cracked a smile. “Yeah. I have a gift for it. A sixth sense, ESP, whatever you want to call it. Been that way all my life, so I’m used to it. I know a lot about ghosts and all that.”

“Okay... so... ghosts are real,” Chase stated. “People... really do become ghosts when they die.”

“Oh, not everyone,” Jack said. “It depends.”

“On what?”

“If you have unfinished business. People who die with big regrets, people who were in the middle of something, people who had one last thing they wanted to do... those guys become ghosts. It’s why I went into CSI and forensics and stuff. People who die in accidents or, uh... murders... a-are more likely to have that tether that keeps them to this side.” Jack tilted his head. “So... Do you know what your business is? It’s okay if you don’t. Not all ghosts do.”

“I...” Chase paused. “I... don’t know. I... Maybe it’s my family.”

“That would make sense,” Jack said slowly. “What’s your family like?”

“I-I have a wife, Stacy—well, um, technically she’s my ex-wife. We... finalized our divorce recently.” Chase winced just remembering it. “But, um, we don’t hate each other! We just... thought it was better this way. I-it was mostly her idea. And I guess I don’t blame her, I... I think I was a good dad, but maybe not a good, uh, homemaker. Anyway, yeah, uh, I-I also have a son. Declan. H-he’s ten.” He smiled slightly. “My little ball of sunshine.” The smile faded. “I would never... I-I wouldn’t leave him. Never.”

Jack nodded sympathetically. “I believe you. I guess... I guess that things aren’t what they look like in there. Someone must’ve framed it as a suicide.”

“But who the fuck would want to kill me?” Chase asked. “I’m a nobody! I’m a wannabe streamer, there’s no reason to sneak into my house and murder me!”

“I’m sorry, I don’t know.” Jack shook his head. “Um... what’s your name, by the way? I should’ve asked you earlier.”

Chase laughed. “Oh, I didn’t even realize you hadn’t asked. I’m Chase. Chase Brody. Sometimes called BroAverage online, but there’s only a handful of people who’d know me as that, I bet.”

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Chase.” Jack smiled. “I’d like to help you get used to all this.”

“Get used to being a ghost?” Chase repeated doubtfully.

“People can get used to anything,” Jack said. “But it’s not just that. Now that you’re a ghost... well, you might want to know that there’s more to the world than you think.”

Chase blinked in surprise—realizing that, like breathing, the motion was no longer instinctual. “What do you mean?”

“There are... more creatures in the world than you’d expect,” Jack said slowly. “Creatures of the night, they’re sometimes called. The shadow world.”

“You mean like... what?”

“Again, do you want me to be blunt?”

“Might as well.”

Jack shrugged. “Like witches and vampires and werewolves and zombies and—”

“WHAT?!” Chase shouted.

“You told me to be blunt,” Jack pointed out.

“Fucking vampires and werewolves exist?!” If Chase hadn’t woken up as a ghost, he wouldn’t have believed it.

“Yeah.” Jack glanced to the side. “But, uh, unfortunately, I’m not sure I have enough time to explain all that. We were about to clear up here when you Awoke. I-I can come back some other time to explain more, but for now, let me give you the basics of being a ghost.”

“Uh... okay.” The news about other supernatural creatures still hadn’t fully sunken in, so might as well move on.

“You’re still a, uh, ‘new’ ghost,” Jack said delicately. “So you won’t be able to go much farther than the spot you died. But you seem pretty aware, so you’ll probably get stronger real quick.”

“Can I... talk to people?” Chase asked. “Other than you, I mean. Like, you always hear about ghostly voices on those ghost hunter shows.”

Jack chuckled. “Ghost hunter shows aren’t all that reliable. But... yeah. Ghosts can speak, be seen, and touch things, but you need to concentrate to be able to do it.”

“Concentrate?”

“It’s all about intention. You usually don’t think much about being seen, cause it just happens. But as a ghost, you need to think about it. Put effort into it. Most ghosts find it easiest to concentrate on speaking, since, uh, when you’re talking you’re already kind of intending to be heard. So just do that, but more so. Manifesting and touching things are a bit more difficult.”

“Okay...” Chase said slowly. “I think I’m following.”

“Here, I think I have time for a demonstration.” Jack reached into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out a small sphere, about the size of a golf ball, made of cloudy glass. “Hold out your hand.”

Chase did so. Jack put his left hand under his—Chase realized he could see it through his own hand—and then used his right hand to drop the glass sphere towards Chase’s hand. It passed right through and landed in Jack’s hand instead. “Uh...”

“You gotta concentrate on catching the ball,” Jack said. “You’re just expecting to be able to stop it. That’s not enough. Actively think about touching the ball. Ready to try again?”

Chase nodded slowly. As Jack started to drop the sphere towards his hand again, Chase really thought about the sphere, imagining how it would feel when it hit his hand, his hand which was definitely really there—

The sphere landed in his palm. For a second, Chase could feel the smooth texture and weight of it. Then he startled in surprise and the sphere slipped through, into Jack’s hand beneath his. Jack grinned. “Hey, first try! That’s very good, not all ghosts can pass in the first ten tries.”

“H-ha. Thanks.” Chase smiled softly.

“Hey McLoughlin!” a voice shouted. “What’re you doing? We’re heading out!”

Jack winced. He looked at Chase apologetically. “Guess I gotta run. I’ll try to stop by as soon as I can. Sometime tomorrow, if possible, or the day after.”

“Oh. Yeah no, uh, go ahead.” Chase nodded.

“See you around, Chase,” Jack said, then turned and left.

“See you around,” Chase repeated, watching him go. He stared as the police, paramedic, and forensics guys all piled into cars that drove away. The last to go was the ambulance... the ambulance with his body.

Chase sat down on the ground. He looked down at himself. A gray shirt, jeans with holes in the knees, and plain white socks. That was what he had died in. This was what he would look like forever now. He could feel his favorite cap on his head, too. He started to reach up to take it off, but stopped. This wasn’t really his favorite cap. The same way these weren’t really his clothes, and this wasn’t really his body. What if the cap disappeared when he took it off? He didn’t want to lose it. After all... this was all he really had now, wasn’t it?

Fuck. He was dead. 

And yet... he was still here.

Chase looked up into the sky and watched the sun move gradually, letting it all sink in.

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Evening came, and the sun soon completely faded from the sky. The city lights turned on, filling the shadows with artificial brightness. For most everyday citizens, these were the quiet hours of the day. But for some, the city really came alive at night.

One such person was Jackie Sheach, who was walking through the downtown streets with complete confidence. Jackie wore his favorite red hoodie today, along with one of his many pairs of ripped jeans. His brown hair is messy, his face partially hidden by a dark beard, but his blue eyes seemed to shine in the darkness, like they were reflecting what little light there was. He was currently talking on the phone. “—No yeah I’ll be back before midnight, I promise,” he said.

“You better,” said a female voice on the other end. “You stay out way too late, Jackie. Your sleep schedule can’t handle it!”

“My sleep schedule?!” Jackie laughed. “Lily, c’mon. Do any of us have consistent sleep schedules? It’s kind of part of the whole thing, isn’t it?”

“We’re going to set a good example for Bryson,” Lily said firmly.

“The new guy?”

“Yep. You remember how it can be an adjustment. The least we can do is provide a solid foundation!”

“You sound like a youth leader,” Jackie commented.

“I might as well be a youth leader with all of you acting like children sometimes!” Lily said. “Do youth leaders even still exist? I haven’t seen any, like, youth hangout centers in years.”

“Who knows?” Jackie shrugged. “Anyway, yeah, I’ll be back by midnight. Schneep’s responsible, he’ll make sure I stick to my word. Speaking of which...” He could see his destination coming up. A hanging wooden sign with the image of a crescent moon and the words “The Harvest Moon” burned into it. The sign dangled over a plain wooden door, sandwiched between two businesses with flashing neon signs. It would have been so easy to miss it. “I’m here. Don’t want to keep him waiting.”

“See you later, Jackie,” Lily said.

“See you.”

The door to the Harvest Moon was plain, and there was no sign to say that the business was open. But there didn’t need to be. If you were here, you knew the hours. Jackie opened the door right up, revealing a staircase heading down. He walked down the twelve or so steps and arrived at a glass door that had the same moon logo as the sign. In front of the door was a Welcome mat. “Heeeere we are,” Jackie said to himself, pushing the door open. A chiming sound rang out—not a bell, more like soft wind chimes.

The Harvest Moon was a small establishment, its walls made of exposed red brick with pale wooden columns painted with some decals and covered in posters. Bar-shaped light bulbs dangled from wooden rafters. To the left and right, when walking in from the entrance, were long pale wooden tables and chairs, taking up most of the dining area. A bar was pressed against the far wall, and next to it was an open entrance leading to the wood-paneled hallway that led to the bathrooms and kitchen. Jackie could smell the mix of various pub dishes and alcoholic drinks in the air.

This time of night, the Harvest Moon was fairly empty, since it was still early for many of its patrons. Jackie walked past the tables, taking note of the few customers in here. There was a trio of younger, college-aged guys that he hadn’t seen in here before, talking casually over a plate of fries. Beneath the fried smell of the food, Jackie could pick up on a bright scent, clear and bringing to mind something that sparkled. There were two girls around Jackie’s own age, each nursing a fruity cocktail. One had the scent of ash and burning, while the other had a familiar sort of musk—though he knew she wasn’t part of Heartwoods, so maybe she was in some other pack. There was a person wearing a dramatic-looking black cloak in the corner, not eating anything. The scent coming from that direction was a mix of old books and freshly-mown grass.

And there was one more person sitting at the bar, checking a watch on his wrist. Jackie slid onto a stool next to him, recognizing the scent before he even recognized the person. Something salty, like an ocean breeze, but missing the undercurrent of blood and sweat that most creatures had. “Hey, Schneep. Sorry I’m late.”

The man turned to look at him. “I went to so much trouble to get here early just for you, you know,” he said with a scowl. He had a passing resemblance to Jackie, with his brown hair and blue eyes, but his hair and beard were much neater, his features slightly more angular. His skin had a slight gray tinge to it—just enough to notice. He wore a long black coat over a pale brown sweater and darker brown dress pants. “Do you know when I had to wake up? Sunset! And you are late?! I could have slept in.” His voice was tinged with a German accent.

“Yeahhh, sorry,” Jackie hissed. “I had a last-minute delivery I had to do. Who orders food at eight o’clock at night?”

“A lot of people I know,” Schneep muttered. “And not all of them walk in the shadows. Some of them are just night people. Did you get it there in time?”

“Uhhh... yeah?”

“Why is there a question mark at the end of that answer?”

“I mean, I got it there,” Jackie said. “But I thought it would’ve been faster to shift and run. Turns out it was not. Because people noticed and I had to take the long way to lose them.”

“Hmm.” Schneep reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, opening up an app. “That explains this.” He showed Jackie his screen. On it was a blurry photo of some giant dog-like thing running across a city street with a bag in its mouth. The photo was clearly posted on social media.

Jackie groaned. “Lily is gonna kill me.”

A woman approached them from the other side of the bar, with dark skin and a head of black curls. She wore a green button-down shirt with short sleeves and a name tag, but Jackie had been here enough to recognize her face and her petrichor scent. “Welcome back again, you two,” she said. “The usual?”

“To start with, yeah,” Jackie said. “Thanks, Dolores.”

“Yes, thank you, Dolores,” Schneep said.

Dolores nodded and smiled and turned around. She pointed at several bottles on the shelves behind the bar, and they started to move on their own, pouring into cups and mixing together. A minute later, she turned back around and deposited a glass in front of each of them. Jackie’s was a lowball glass filled with a purple-blue drink, and Schneep’s was a martini glass with a red liquid inside. “Enjoy. Are we going all night or do you have work, doc?”

Schneep shook his head. “It is my night off.”

“I, uh, need to be back home by midnight,” Jackie mumbled. “I promised Lily. She wants everyone to start having consistent sleep schedules.”

Schneep raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t it hard to get a consistent schedule with the moon situation?”

“That’s what I said!” Jackie took a drink from his glass. “But we have this new guy, Bryson. She wants us to be good examples for him.”

Dolores chuckled, leaning on the bar. “New guy? You make it sound like it’s a job.”

“Well I mean... it takes up as much time as a job does,” Jackie said slowly. “Technically?”

“It does not,” Schneep muttered.

Jackie nudged him.

“Do not be like that!” Schneep said. “It is true! A transformation like that is so much more than a job. It is a change in your lifestyle.” He took a sip of his own drink. “Well, ah... how is your new guy adjusting?”

“Better than most people do, to be honest,” Jackie said. “He says he had trouble making friends before so he’s grateful that we’re all being so friendly. His only complaint is that he’s not sure how to explain it to his mom.”

Schneep chuckled. “Well, that is a relatively small problem to have in the scheme of things.” Another drink. “He is lucky to have found your pack. You are good people.”

“Daww, really?” Jackie grinned.

“Really.” Schneep nodded. “Sometimes I wish we had packs, too.”

“Dude, nothing’s stopping you guys from forming one. They’re not special to wolves. Any group of close people is a pack. But it’s just not called that, it’s called a friend group or something. But if you want a cool name, you could call it a... uh...” Jackie hesitated. “What’s the word for a group of bats?” He took his phone out of his hoodie pocket to google it while Schneep and Dolores laughed.

Before he could open up his browser, though, a notification appeared on his screen. A text message from a contact named “Medium at Large,” in a group chat. Hey do you know driving directions to Marvins place?

Jackie made a face. Schneep leaned over to look at him. “Oh? Something happen?” He looked down at his own phone, having also received the same message in the same group chat. “Ah, I see. Jackie, you should not be so unkind to Marvin.”

“I’m not unkind to him,” Jackie growled—actually growled, a rumble deep in his throat. “I consider him a friend. I just... don’t trust the smell of his magic.” Witches, like Marvin, drew power from various sources. Dolores here was an earth witch, that group of college guys from earlier were probably star witches, that woman who smelled like ash was likely a fire witch, and so on. Plant witches, river witches, love witches, chaos witches—there were all sorts of sources for magic, and all of them smelled different to Jackie’s keen senses. He liked Marvin. He really did. But he’d never smelled another witch with a magic scent like that. Something sour, almost acidic. It was strange. And Marvin had never explained what it was.

“Mm-hmm. If you consider him a friend, you should trust that he knows what he’s doing,” Schneep said, narrowing his eyes.

“I do! I trust him. I don’t trust that magic.” Jackie sighed. “I just... hope everything is... okay with it.” He shook his head. “Anyway.” He sent a reply text to the chat. Sorry Jack. You know i dont drive.

Schneep also texted a reply. Didn’t you JUST get your license? 

Jack responded instantly. Yeah which is why I need the practice. Ill need to drive to Marvins place eventually, wont I?

Well I do not have a license at all, Schneep said. So I don’t drive. So I am no help. Look it up on your GPS.

Jackie chuckled. “How old are you? In all those ages, you haven’t learned to drive?”

“I am only forty-five!” Schneep snapped. “Don’t say I am an old man!” Despite claiming that was his age, he didn’t look much older than Jackie, who was thirty.

“That’s plenty of time to learn to drive.”

“So is thirty years!”

“Hey, I’ve gotten along enough with a bus pass,” Jackie said.

Dolores raised an eyebrow. “Might be easier to deliver food to people if you had a car, y’know.”

Jackie made a face at her.

Jack replied in the chat. Fine Ill use Maps. 

Whyre you going to marvin anyway? Jackie asked. Just a visit?

I think I found someone interesting at work today.Tell you two about it later.  I want Marvins help with something first.

Jackie raised an eyebrow. He glanced over at Schneep, who looked similarly intrigued. “It is probably a ghost, yes?” Schneep asked.

“Yeah, probably.” Jackie closed out of the texts and went back to his browser. A minute passed in silence. “Oh hey, apparently a group of bats is called a colony.”

Schneep burst into laughter.

The next few hours passed with idle chatter and more drinks. The Harvest Moon gradually filled up with people, and some more workers arrived to help with the nighttime rush. But true to his word, Jackie left before midnight... mostly because Schneep dragged him out, insisting that he had enough drinks for the night.

The two of them walked down the street towards the nearest bus stop. In most cities, the buses didn’t run this late at night. But Scuabyrg was different, with such a high population of... those who were awake in the darkness. There were enough everydays who knew about them to keep things running normally.

“No no no, III’m good t’walk, I can do it on m’own!” Jackie said, leaning heavily on Schneep. 

“Alright. Go on and do it, then.” Schneep stopped walking, pushing him off a bit.

Jackie took a few stumbling steps forward... and then stopped. “I think... I was wrong.”

Schneep grinned. “At least you’re sober enough to be aware of it.”

Jackie snorted and rolled his eyes. “You an’ yourrrr... vamp tolerance. Why don’ you guys get... get it easily? Y’know.”

“It can’t pass the blood barrier,” Schneep said, his face totally straight.

Jackie laughed. “Blood barrier, that’s funny.”

“No, I am being serious. Well, partly. We cannot digest or absorb most things easily, and that includes alcohol and other drugs...”

Jackie tuned out the scientific explanation that Schneep went on. Not intentionally. He just got distracted, thinking about how different Schneep looked after some drinks. His skin was more flushed, its gray tint basically gone. And his personal scent was overwhelmed by the smell of blood. Jackie inhaled, trying to smell that oceany scent...

And picked up on something else instead.

Jackie stiffened, trying to concentrate through the drinks clouding his thoughts. Where was that smell coming from? And what was it? It was... a being, of some kind. He could tell that much. Whoever it was, they smelled almost overwhelmingly of some chemical scent—like formaldehyde. That stuff that was used to preserve dead bodies. Jackie wrinkled his nose in disgust, looking around for the source of the scent... 

And then he looked up. And saw a figure crouched on the top of a lamp post. They tensed the moment he noticed them, and then lunged.

“Schneep!” Jackie shoved him to the side, just in time to avoid the figure. Schneep yelped in surprise, and Jackie whirled on the figure, who was moving so fast. He jumped at them and halfway through the jump, he shifted. In between one blink and the next, Jackie was no longer a human, but instead a giant wolf, his thick fur colored varying shades of brown. His teeth snapped at the figure, and probably would have bitten them—but the drinks still affected him in wolf form, and his sharp reactions were a bit too slow.

The figure tackled Schneep to the ground. He cried out, and reacted instinctively, biting onto the figure’s arm. The figure pulled back, leaving the light from the lamp post behind, and—and disappeared.

Jackie stared at the spot where they’d been in shock. Then he turned to Schneep. He whined, nudging him with his snout.

“I am alright, Jackie,” Schneep said, sitting up. Some blood coated his lips, and his fangs were now visible, elongated canines on the top and bottom row of his teeth.

Jackie tilted his head, ears twitching.

“I promise I am fine.” Schneep got to his feet, patting himself down... then froze. “Son of a bitch! That motherfucker stole my wallet!”

Jackie let out a series of barks that sounded similar to laughter.

“Hey, I had about fifty pounds in there, this is not funny!” Schneep said.

Jackie rolled his eyes, a human expression that looked so strange on his wolf form’s face. Who carried cash these days?

“Oh shut up,” Schneep said. He sighed. “At least we know something.” He wiped his mouth on his black coat sleeve. “That was probably another vampire who attacked me. One with a distinct bloodtaste. So, that means I will have to report petty theft to the Night Council. Great.”

Well. That was surprising. But it was getting closer and closer to midnight. Jackie continued walking to the bus stop.

“Change back, Jackie, even the night buses will balk at a giant wolf,” Schneep said.

Jackie shook his head. It was easier to walk on four legs when drunk than two.

“Jackie,” Schneep said in a warning voice.

Jackie broke into a loping run.

“Get back here!” Schneep shouted, running after him. “I am not going down as the man who got on the bus with a giant wolf!”

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

It was a slow night at the shop so far, just like most nights. Which was good. Marvin owned and ran Magnificent Magics by himself, if things got too busy here he’d have to hire more people, and that wasn’t in his nature. He knew where all his wares were, and had an exact way of organizing things that an employee might not follow. Though he did sometimes consider hiring someone to take care of the cats that showed up...

“Higgins, no.” Marvin picked up one of the cats in question, who was staring at a second cat with his tail flicking wildly. “Leave Fluffington alone.” Even though there were about five to eight cats in the shop at any point in time, he only actually owned two of them. Higgins was one, a round white cat with gray patches on his coat. The other was Sam, a black-and-orange tortoiseshell with big green eyes. She was upstairs right now, and not bothering the other cats. Marvin was not sure why so many cats showed up here. But he was happy to take care of them whenever they stopped by.

Sometimes he thought his shop was more like a cat cafe than an actual shop. But in reality, the only cat decorations were the trees in the corner of the rooms. The rest of the shop was a combination of a bookstore and a witch’s hut. Bookcases lined the walls, filled with all sorts of books. Paper cover, hard cover, leather cover. Various trinkets also sat on the shelves. Candles and crystals and bottles and incense and more. More things hung from the ceiling, mostly bundles of plants. There was a counter at the back of the room with more of these trinkets, and a cash register for purchases. Two doors sat in the wall behind the counter, one leading upstairs to Marvin’s apartment, the other leading to a bathroom/cat caretaking room. The main body of the shop was filled with small round tables, all covered with silky tablecloths in various jewel tones. Some of them had more books or trinkets, but some were empty, meant for the customers to sit at.

“Here you go.” Marvin sat Higgins down on the nearest chair, bending down to drop him on the cushion. Higgins started batting at Marvin’s hair that dangled around his face, and Marvin jerked backwards. “Come on, Higgins.” He pushed his hair back. “It’s not even that long.” The cats were the reason he kept his hair shorter than usual, and done in a half-up style. To minimize cats messing with it while still looking stylish.

As Marvin dealt with Higgins, another cat, Draco, hopped onto a table, climbed onto a stack of books, and used it as a springboard to jump to a bookshelf. The book stack toppled under the force of the jump.

“Hey!” Marvin whirled around, taking Draco off the shelves. “I know you like to be tall, but you have to be careful getting up there.” He put him on the floor, then gathered up the books that Draco knocked over.

As he restacked the books, he heard the shop door open behind him. “One moment!” he called, finishing up the stack before he turned around. He grinned. “How can I help you?”

The man who walked in was unfamiliar to Marvin. A new customer, how fun. He wore a fancier outfit: a white button-up shirt with frilly cuffs, over which was a blue vest with faint, darker blue patterns. There was a neat bow-tie around his neck, holding up a high collar. His dark brown hair was neat and straight, and he had a dark mustache that curled at the end. Blue eyes looked around the shop with curiosity. As Marvin observed this man, he noticed the gray tint to his skin. A vamp, for sure. Maybe one of the older ones, judging by the style he dressed in. 

After a moment of awkward silence, the man walked up to Marvin. He reached into his pocket and took out a small spiral notebook with a pattern of stars on the cover, as well as a pen. He wrote something down and showed it to Marvin. Hello. My apologies, but I am unable to speak. Can you tell me more about this shop?

“Oh! Alright.” Marvin nodded. He raised his hands and started to gesture: speaking in British Sign Language. Can you understand this? Do you want to speak this way?

The man looked surprised, then laughed silently. He set the notebook and pen down on the nearest table, and began to sign with a bit more flourish than Marvin did. I can hear you fine, you do not need to sign as well. But thank you for asking.

“No problem.” Marvin flashed a smile. “Ayway, uh, yeah, I can tell you about the shop. This is my place. We sell all sorts of magical supplies. Mostly stuff that’s useful for witches, I’m not sure if there’s much a vampire would find of use. Oh! But I do sell blood remover and potions.”

The man nodded. He wandered around the edge of the shop. Some of the cats walked up to sniff at him. He looked down at them and smiled a friendly, closed-lip smile. Most of them hissed and ran off, but Higgins kept sniffing him.

“Sorry, most of them aren’t vamp-trained,” Marvin said. “And, uh, Higgins isn’t for sale.”

They’re for sale? the man asked, interested.

“Only as pets,” Marvin said firmly. “I don’t do blood here.”

The man looked horrified at the implication.

“Oh, you’re offended! Good.” Marvin laughed. Vampires were tricky to deal with, morally, given their diet. “So you’re a blood bank person? Not an animal person?”

The man nodded. When possible. You know how it is.

“Hmm. I probably don’t. I haven’t lived like you have.”

I see. Well, sometimes there is... desperation, the man said. But I try to avoid that.

Marvin nodded slowly. 

May I have your name, sir? The man asked.

“I’m Marvin. Marvin Fletcher. I’m the owner.” Marvin gestured to himself. He was wearing one of his favorite outfits today. An open button-up short-sleeved shirt with an art nouveau flower design on it. Underneath was a sleeveless black turtleneck. He hoped that this was making a good impression on the new customer. “And you?”

The man picked up the notebook and pen again, writing down his name and showing it to Marvin. Jameson Jackson. Some people call me JJ.

“Alliteration! Nice.” Marvin grinned. “Let me know if you need anything, Mr. Jameson Jackson.”

Jameson nodded. He continued to look around the shop, taking an interest in some of the books. Marvin took care to have a lot of variety for purchase. A lot of them were spellbooks for witches, but there were also studies on magical creatures, histories of the shadow world, and some popular fictional stories set in the shadow world, just for fun. Jameson flipped through some of the books, reading the first couple pages or the blurb on the cover before putting them back.

The shop door soon opened again. “Marvin!” A man walked into the shop, wearing a black T-shirt and jacket. “I have something I—”

Jameson suddenly dropped the book he was looking at, staring at the newcomer in... what can only be described as surprise and fear.

“Hey, Jack,” Marvin said, then looked at Jameson. “Don’t worry about him. This is Jack, he’s a meddie, and a friend of mine.”

“Uh... hi,” Jack said slowly, looking at Jameson. “Didn’t mean to freak you out.”

Jameson shook his head. He bent down and picked up the book he dropped, returning it to its place on the shelf. It’s alright, he said.

“Oh, BSL, huh? I’m not as fluent as Marv is, sorry.”

“He just said it’s alright,” Marvin translated.

“Yeah, I got that.”

“Well, anyway.” Marvin decided to move on. “What brings you to my shop now? I know this is regular hours for me, but it’s starting to get late for you.”

Jack rolled his eyes. “It’s only nine o’clock. I would’ve been here sooner, but I took some wrong turns.”

“Wait... did you drive here?” Marvin blinked. “I thought you still only had a permit.”

“Nope! I got my license on Tuesday, remember?” Jack beamed proudly.

“Ah. A whole three days ago. Good. Good good good.” Marvin nodded slowly. “Well, uh... what’s so important that you had to drive here?”

Jack walked over to a table at the back, talking as he went. “I had work today. Apparently there was a death down on Gold Sky Street, so you know, of course, I have to check it out.” He pulled out a chair and sat down. “Kind of a sad scene. The guy who lived there had probably been gone for a while, Jenkins estimates at least twelve hours, and nobody had realized he was gone until a solicitor came trying to sell stuff and saw the body through the window.”

“God,” Marvin muttered. He noticed Jameson listening in with curiosity, though Jameson was clearly trying to hide it. “So was his ghost there?”

“Yep.” Jack reached into his pocket and pulled out a cloudy glass sphere about the size of a golf ball. “And he was a pretty strong ghost. Full-body apparition without even trying. Knew right away he was gone and, uh, freaked out about it. Generally acted really alive.” He set the sphere on the table. “I did the touch test with him, too, and he got it right away.”

“Really?” Marvin tilted his head, curious. Jack had talked with him about the ghosts he sometimes encountered on his job before. Enough for Marvin to know that this was a very rare occurrence.

“Yeah, and something else weird. The guy didn’t remember his death.”

“And that’s... Why is that weird?”

“Even weaker ghosts know their death,” Jack said. “Even if they die in their sleep or die when somehow drugged. They instinctively know the details. This guy—oh, his name is Chase, by the way—didn’t know who killed him. Most murdered ghosts know that.”

Jameson started in surprise. You were at a murder scene?!

Marvin laughed. “Yeah, Jameson. Jack works for the forensics, he gets called out to murder scenes all the time.”

“Well, uh, the detectives don’t think this was a murder scene,” Jack said slowly. “They think that Chase got super drunk and uh...” He made a finger gun and pointed it at the side of his head.

“Oh god,” Marvin whispered.

“But Chase is insisting he didn’t do that,” Jack said. “And if he really did get blackout drunk and do that, he would know that’s what happened. But he doesn’t know anything else, either. So maybe he did and something is fucking with his memory? I don’t know.” He tapped the glass sphere. “But that’s where I wanted your help, Marvin.”

“You got some of his essence in the sensor?” Marvin asked.

“Mm-hmm. Can you tell me if there was... anything magical about his death?”

“On it.” Marvin walked around the counter at the back of the shop, picking up something he’d left behind there. A white mask shaped like a cat’s face, with some markings on it. The four card suits—heart, club, diamond, spade—were drawn on the forehead in black, while the ears of the mask were filled in with green and there was a black nose and six curvy green whiskers. When he tilted it in the light, it seemed to shimmer with more green markings, but they were hard to read. He walked back over to where Jack was sitting and sat down at a chair across from him.

Should I leave for this? Jameson asked, looking a bit nervous.

“No, don’t worry, it’s not like this is a secret spell or anything,” Marvin laughed. He put the mask on his face, adjusting it so it was comfortable. “You could watch, even—if you’re okay with that, Jack.”

“Yeah, why not?” Jack shrugged.

“Great! That’s be fifty pounds to observe, then.”

Jameson made a choking sound. Are you serious?!

“Absolutely not.” Marvin grinned.

Jameson stared—and then laughed. It was a strange, wheezing sound, clearly genuine but with no voice behind it. You’re a right funny man, aren’t you?

“I can be.” Marvin stretched his arms, wiggling his fingers and loosening up for magic. His short sleeves left his forearms and hands bare, showing off the tattoos he had. Celtic knot-like designs wrapped around his arms, like he was wearing four bracelets on each arm, from elbow to wrist. On the back of each hand was a unique design: a spell circle on his left, and an eye design surrounded by swirls on his right. Green light flickered over all the visible tattoos, like oil on water, and then the eye design on his right hand began to glow a solid green. He concentrated, passing his right hand over the sensor.

Can I ask what this is? Jameson asked, not bothering to hide his curiosity.

“This glass ball? It’s a sensor,” Jack said. “If there’s a ghost in an area, you feel it get unnaturally cold. And if a ghost directly touches it, it absorbs some of their essence. Not enough to cause any trouble for the ghost, of course.”

While he talked, Marvin muttered the appropriate spell words under his voice. His eyes flared green as well, bright as the glow coming from his tattoo. His vision blurred for a moment, and then cleared up. He could see lights in the cloudy glass of the sensor now. Most of them were faint, barely there, really. Leftover essence from other ghosts that Jack has used the sensor on. But most of the sensor was taken up by a bright yellow-green light. “Whoa.” Marvin blinked, leaning backwards.

“What is it?” Jack asked.

“There’s definitely some magic involved with this,” Marvin said. “This ghost’s essence is strong, alright. And there’s something different about it... What did you say his name was? Chase?”

“Yep. Chase Brody.”

“Was he an everyday or something else?”

“Uhhh... far as I could tell. I mean, if you’re not an everyday, you’re less likely to be surprised when you die and become a ghost,” Jack figured.

“You wouldn’t be surprised,” Marvin pointed out.

“Well I’m special. Can you tell what’s different about his essence?”

“Hmm...” Marvin frowned. “Judging by the color... maybe there’s some necromancy, of some kind? The shade is a bit off. You don’t normally get an in-between color like this. It kind of looks sickly, which is why it might be death magic...”

Jameson looked at Marvin. So... you’re a death witch? he asked.

“Huh? Oh, nope.” Marvin looked up at him and grinned. “You don’t need to be a death witch to do this spell, to look at ghost essence. You don’t even need to be a death witch to do necromancy, but it makes it much easier.” He turned his attention back to the sensor. “Hmm... I... don’t know the specifics of this magic, though. There’s not enough of a sample for me to figure it out.”

“Well that makes sense,” Jack said. “It was only in contact with him for like, three seconds total at most.”

“Really? And it left such a strong imprint?” Marvin looked at the sensor again in a new light. “You weren’t kidding about him being a strong ghost. Hmm...” He bit the inside of his cheek, thinking. “I don’t know what’s going on with this guy, but I’m sure that some sort of magic has fucked with him in some way.”

Jack nodded. “Weird. Do you... think we’ll need to report it to the Night Council?”

“I dunno. Depends on what spell it is, and if it was done with consent.”

Jack frowned. “Well Chase doesn’t remember what happened, so I doubt he wanted this to happen. Otherwise he would’ve made sure he remembered after he fucking died. But that’s not exactly proof, is it?” He went quiet for a moment. “I think... I need to help him.”

“You help a lot of ghosts, Jack,” Marvin pointed out.

“No, I mean... more than I usually do. The guy’s lost. He says he really cares about his family, but he lived alone, and his house, uh... wasn’t in the best condition. Not to mention this weird magic you just found.” Jack paused. “I want to see what I can do.”

Marvin nodded. “Alright. Well, let me know if there’s anything else I can do. Be happy to help.” He pushed his mask back onto his forehead.

A cat jumped up onto the table and sniffed the sensor for a moment before slowly reaching out with a paw—

“Luna, no.” Marvin grabbed her, pulling her back into his lap.

Jack laughed. “That’s a new one.”

“Want her?” Marvin held up the black cat. “I’m calling her Luna Void but you can change that if you want.”

“Nah, my apartment doesn’t allow pets.” Jack paused. “Though I was wondering about getting a new place.”

“Hmm. Fair.” Marvin looked over at Jameson, who was standing idly nearby. “Want a cat? I know I said they weren’t vamp-trained earlier, but I could put in the effort.”

Jameson smiled softly. No thanks. My roommate probably won’t take kindly to an animal.

Marvin raised an eyebrow. A roommate, huh? “Well good to know.” He put Luna Void down on the floor again. “A question for you, by the way, Jameson Jackson. Are you new in town or what?”

I’m fairly new, yes, Jameson said. Only been here for about a week. I’m getting to know the layout of the city. How did you know that?

“Between me and Jack we know a lot of those who walk in the shadows in Scuabyrg. So you were either really reclusive, or you just arrived.”

Jameson laughed silently. Clever.

Jack stood up. “Well, uh, I’m gonna head home now, Marvin. Nice to meet you, Jameson. If you ever need help with stuff, you can reach out to me. Uh, hang on. I have cards for this.” He tapped his pockets, then pulled out a card and passed it over. “My phone number’s on that. Do you have a phone?”

Jameson reached into his pocket and pulled out... a phone that looked like it was from the early 2000s. The kind that slid open to form a keyboard. Marvin held back a laugh.

“Yeah, that will work,” Jack said. “Anyway, I can help with a lot of different stuff. Other everydays tend to listen to me, and I can help with ghost stuff of course, and anything else you might need my meddie powers for.”

Thank you, Jameson said, and gave another close-lipped smile.

“You can stop by here anytime, too,” Marvin said. “As long as you’re not a dick about stuff, but you seem chill enough. I can do spells and card readings for a price, but I don’t do the French or Thoth arcana, only traditional cards and crystaleye.”

I’ll keep that in mind. Lovely to meet you. Jameson tilted his head. I think I’ll leave for the night but maybe I’ll see you tomorrow.

“See you!” Marvin waved, and Jameson headed out. “Bye, Jack!”

“Goodbye!” Jack also waved as he left.

The shop was empty again. Well... except for the cats. Marvin had barely a quiet moment before he saw two of them bolt across the floor, the smaller one jumping on the bigger one. “Bee, Ragamuffin, no!” he shouted, getting up. “Not by those shelves, you’ll break stuff!”

A few more customers dropped in as the night wore on, but there wasn’t much notable. Marvin closed the shop at one am, as he always did, then headed upstairs to relax a little before going to bed.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Scuabyrg seemed like a lovely city so far. Its name was a bit peculiar—he didn’t realize it was pronounced ‘skya-berg’ until tonight—but Jameson had heard stranger names in his long life. He’d spent the past couple nights exploring the area, getting to know the shadowy haunts before returning to the place they were staying in the early hours of the morning.

Tonight, it was about four thirty when he made his way back. Their “home” was one of many identical townhouses on Steward Street, an area in the northwest of the city that was very old. They dated back before the days when England had a window tax: the more windows a building had, the more property tax the owners had to pay. So many people bricked up their windows to avoid paying what they couldn’t afford. It wasn’t a pleasant place to live for most people, but Jameson wasn’t ‘most people.’

JJ walked up to a three-story brown brick house with two metal letters on the side designating it number 77. The window frames persisted, but they were filled not with glass, but with identical brown bricks. Jameson reached into his pockets and pulled out a set of brass keys, unlocking the door and heading inside.

It was dark, but JJ was used to seeing in the dark. Even so, he turned on the lights for comfort. The furniture in the living room was old, with peeling upholstery and worn wood. In the corner was a small kitchenette with stained appliances. The stove was covered with dust, but the fridge was good as new. He made a detour to grab something from it, then headed up the stairs.

As he passed by the second story landing—

“Think fast, bitch!”

There was a blur of motion in the corner of his vision. Only the warning shout kept him from being smacked in the head, as even his supernaturally fast reflexes barely gave him time to duck. The small item hit the wall then fell to the ground. A voice laughed. “Oh shit, JJ, you did it! Wasn’t expecting that!”

JJ looked over at the laughter. Standing in an open doorway was a man with wild brown hair and grayish skin, his wide eyes blue with a ring of green around the middle of the pupil. He was wearing one of his favorite outfits: an overly large black leather jacket, a black tank top with the words “Bite Me” written on it in red, black jeans held up by a belt with a silvery buckle, and tall black boots with inch-thick soles. He leaned against the doorframe, grinning wildly to show off his fangs. JJ froze for a moment, then forced himself to relax. Hello, Anti, he said in sign language.

“Aw, you seem so sad to see me!” Anti’s grin widened. “Were you worried I would leave you?”

No. No, he definitely wasn’t worried about that. Where have you been? JJ asked calmly. For the past three nights, Anti hadn’t come back to the townhouse at sunrise. He would think that Anti had been caught in the sunlight, but he knew better to think that Anti would be so foolish. He was probably getting to know the city his own way. And honestly, Jameson had enjoyed the nights without him.

“None of your fucking business, JJ!” Anti laughed. “Hey, look at that.” He pointed at the thing that he threw at JJ’s head. 

Jameson looked down at it, then slowly bent over to pick it up again without fully turning away from Anti. It was a dark brown leather wallet.

“Got that from some vamp fucker earlier tonight. He had fifty pounds in there!” Anti was suddenly holding a handful of bills, pinching them between two fingers. Then, just as quickly, he put them back in his pocket. “Fucking moron. We should go out to eat soon.”

JJ raised an eyebrow. Then he looked down at the wallet, examining it for anything else. There was a debit card in there—Anti didn’t like those, said they were too traceable—and some other card. He took that out. This was some sort of work ID, for a place called St. Damian’s Hospital. The blurry picture on the ID showed a man with brown hair and glasses, and the name identified the person as Dr. Henrik von Schneeplestein, of the Haematology Department. So that’s who the wallet belonged to.

“What? Wanna keep it?” Anti asked. “Go for it. Fucking useless things, anyway.” He shrugged. “Anyway. What’ve you been up to?”

Exploring the city, JJ said.

“Find anything fun?”

Not your type of fun.

Anti narrowed his eyes. “Oh? What’s that supposed to mean?”

JJ looked at him. You know we don’t enjoy the same activities.

“And what’re you implying?” When JJ didn’t say anything, Anti growled. “Fine. Shut up, then.” His eyes momentarily shifted color, his irises becoming bright red. “It’s getting early, go to bed. See if I fucking care.”

Jameson felt his muscles tense. Without another world, he turned and continued up the stairs to the third floor.

Even though this was the nicest story out of all of the floors in the run-down old townhouse, Anti had elected to claim the second floor instead—the story with a hole in the wooden floor, a smaller bedroom, and water-damaged walls. Jameson hadn’t said anything about it, just in case that would prompt Anti to say something like “hmm, that’s a good point, I do deserve the best floor!” and kick him out.

The third floor had a central living area, with soft sofas and sheer white curtains framing the bricked-up windows. There was no central lighting, but Anti had ‘acquired’ some lamps when Jameson commented on how they should have them, if just for show if nothing else. There was a nice desk tucked away in the corner, with tall dark wood bookshelves on either side. Jameson hadn’t yet been able to fill them with any trinkets or books, but maybe he could pick up some from that shop he found earlier in the night. Maybe he’d be able to actually hang onto the books this time, instead of being forced to leave them behind when they moved.

The one room on the third floor was the bedroom. He headed straight there, despite not being all that tired, opening up the door and ducking inside. There wasn’t much in here, just an old claw-footed dresser, a four-poster bed in the center, and a standing mirror. A mirror that must have had a silver backing, because Jameson wasn’t able to see his reflection in it.

He changed out of his outfit and into a set of matching pajamas—one of the few things he’d been able to grab when Anti suddenly decided to move them from their last city. Then he climbed into bed. The blue comforter had not been taken with them from the last city. It had also been ‘acquired’ by Anti, along with some pillows. Jameson had no idea why Anti listened to his requests for things to put in their house. Not when he didn’t listen to anything else Jameson asked. But he was going to take what he could get, and not question it.

Jameson stared up at the ceiling, eyes tracing the pattern of stains on the old plaster. He wasn’t tired yet. But the sun would be rising soon. So he might as well try.

He could hear Anti walking around on the floor below, doing who-knows-what. But he tried to put him out of his mind. He tried to think about other things. Like... like that little shop he’d stumbled across. Magnificent Magics. He hadn’t been in a witch’s shop in a couple decades, they had changed so much. Maybe... maybe he would be able to visit again some other time. Maybe he could finally have someone else to talk to.

[sydneejean]

Finding You - 1

Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw / Jake “Hangman” Seresin / Reader

FEMALE READER!

Link for AO3:

Hey guys! It’s been a while, but I decided to take up writing again! I’ve been working on this piece for a little while, so let me know how you like it! I’m hoping to add more chapters, so feel free to give me thoughts and ideas! Love yall <3 - Syd

—————————————————————————

"Bradshaw, is that you?!"

You whip your head around to face the door, and there he is. The man you haven’t spoken to in 18 years. The man you never thought you would lay your eyes on again. The man you have loved wholeheartedly since you were 13.

Bradley Nicolas Peter Bradshaw.

Your soulmate.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Everybody gets a name etched into their skin when they turn 14—a soulmate. If your soulmate is younger, you have to wait until they turn 14 for the name to appear. Usually, it takes years for a person to find their soulmate, but in your case, yours was sitting right next to you. At least, one of yours. You rarely hear about cases where a person has more than one soulmate. But of course, you’ve got to be the special one.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

You and Bradley have known each other since childhood, your fathers knowing each other since flight school until Goose’s untimely demise, and Bradley’s “uncle” being your fathers soulmate. From a young age, there was always a special connection between you two, a bond that went beyond friendship. You shared countless adventures together, from building forts in the backyard to exploring local parks.

As you entered your teenage years, your feelings for Bradley began to evolve. You found yourself drawn to his easygoing nature, his sense of humor, and his unwavering loyalty. Bradley, in turn, always looked out for you, whether it was defending you from bullies or being your partner in mischief.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

September 12, 1999.

Your best friend and you are spending your birthday together. As you try to suppress the anticipation of discovering your soulmate’s name, you can’t help but remember that Bradley didn’t get his on his 16th birthday eight months ago. You're chatting and having a great time when your right hip starts itching like crazy. You scratch it, thinking it will go away, but it doesn’t. Meanwhile, Bradley begins scratching the left side of his chest with a fervor that matches your own discomfort. In a sudden, shared realization, you understand what’s happening: the names of your soulmates are appearing.

Wide-eyed and barely able to contain your excitement, you part ways—you head to the bathroom to inspect your hip, and him to your closet to examine his chest. Your hands grip the edge of the bathroom counter as nerves settle in. What if the name is unattractive? You dread the thought of an ugly name being permanently etched into your skin. With a deep breath, you decide it’s now or never. You lower the waistband of your shorts and peer into the mirror. And there they are: the names. Your initial shock is due to seeing not just one but two names. Then, surprise mingles with excitement as you read the first name:

Bradley Nicolas Peter Bradshaw

And then you read the second:

Jacob Alexander Seresin

You stand there, frozen, trying to process the revelation. A knock on the door jolts you back to reality. Opening it, you find Bradley standing there wide-eyed. His name is now permanently marked on your skin, and he:

1. Has his name now etched into your skin.

2. Isn’t wearing a shirt anymore.

3. Has your name, in pretty cursive handwriting, along with “Jacob Alexander Seresin” etched into his chest.

Without hesitation, he pulls you into a tight embrace. You giggle, wrapping your arms around his waist, and a warm sensation envelops you as your bodies press together. Time seems to stand still as you remain locked in your hug, savoring the moment.

A throat clearing from the doorway breaks your reverie. You turn to see your father, Tom “Iceman” Kazansky, standing alongside his soulmate and Bradley’s father figure, Pete “Maverick” Mitchell. Both of them look unimpressed by Bradley’s shirtless state and your intimate embrace. Sheepishly, you disentangle yourselves, and you quickly rush into your father’s arms, seeking comfort and reassurance.

"Care to explain?" your father asks, his voice a mix of sternness and curiosity.

"We just... found out," you stammer, your cheeks burning with embarrassment.

Mav steps forward, placing a reassuring hand on Bradley's shoulder. "It's a big moment, Tom. Let’s give them a bit of space."

Your father’s expression softens slightly as he exchanges a glance with Mav. "Alright, but you two need to understand the gravity of this. Soulmates are a lifelong commitment."

Bradley and you nod in unison, the weight of his words sinking in. Your father gives you one last hug before he and Pete leave the room, closing the door behind them.

Bradley turns to you, his eyes filled with a mixture of joy and uncertainty. "I guess we have a lot to talk about."

You smile, taking his hand in yours. "Yes, we do. But for now, let’s just be happy that we found each other again."

You sit down on the edge of your bed, your hands still intertwined, and begin to talk about the future—yours and the one that includes Jacob Alexander Seresin.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Bradley sat beside his mother’s hospital bed, the room filled with the soft hum of medical equipment. The atmosphere was heavy with unspoken words and emotions, but he held her frail hand, his eyes brimming with both love and sadness.

“Mom, I… I have something important to tell you,” he began softly.

His mother, her smile weak but genuine, looked at him with curious eyes. “What is it, darling?”

Bradley hesitated for a moment before taking a deep breath. “I found my soulmate. Well, one of them. It’s… it’s not just one person.”

Her eyes widened slightly, and despite her fatigue, there was a spark of curiosity. “Two soulmates? Bradley, that’s… that’s very rare. Tell me more.”

Nodding, he continued, “Yes, it is. The first name that appeared is someone you know—someone we’ve both known for a long time. It’s her.”

A gentle smile spread across her face. “I always had a feeling about the two of you. And the second name?”

Bradley took another deep breath, steadying himself. “The second name is Jacob Alexander Seresin. I haven’t met him yet, but I feel like there’s a connection already. It’s strange, but I just know he’s important.”

She squeezed his hand lightly, her touch a comforting reminder of her presence. “Trust that feeling, Bradley. The universe has a way of bringing the right people into our lives at the right time.”

His voice trembled slightly as he spoke again. “I wish you could be there to meet them both. To see how our lives unfold together.”

“I may not be there physically,” she said, her eyes glistening with tears, “but I’ll always be with you in spirit. I want you to embrace this journey with all your heart. Love them fiercely, Bradley. They are your soulmates for a reason.”

Tears streamed down Bradley’s face as he nodded. “I promise, Mom. I’ll cherish them, just like you and Dad cherished each other.”

“That’s all I could ever ask for,” she said with a faint smile. “Remember, love is the greatest gift you can give and receive. Don’t be afraid to open your heart completely.”

“I won’t,” he assured her. “I’ll make you proud, Mom.”

“You already have, my dear. You already have,” she whispered, her smile never fading.

Bradley leaned down to kiss his mother’s forehead, feeling the warmth of her love envelop him. Despite the impending loss, a sense of peace settled over him, knowing that his mother believed in him and his journey ahead. As he sat back down, still holding her hand, he promised himself that he would honor her wisdom and cherish the love he had been given.

[hazeracha]

• // kcon la // •

pairing // chan x reader

warning // fluff, chan’s kcon la outfit ( yes that is a warning! )

wc: 1.5k

A/N I am also going to include text messages in this story just for my own enjoyment because I enjoy reading them so much, and will probably be using them as additional parts to chapters like this one > texts with chan < or chan’s room episodes that don’t have enough content to write to write about.

The flight from Seoul to LA was a long one, meaning you had time to wait until you got any updates from Chan. You hoped he would take this opportunity to catch up on some sleep but the chances of that were slim.

As you waited for an update you decided to catch up on some work and also tidy up around the dorm. You didn’t move anything just tidied, you hated it when people moved your stuff around so you left everything as it was like always. You just dusted and hoovered a little whilst also doing some of their laundry and leaving it in their rooms. It’s not that their dorm was dirty it just needed a little clean up and you knew they would appreciate it when they got back, it’s something you often did when you spent any time in the dorms alone.

You heard the sound of your phone buzzing from beside you as you worked on your laptop, which you had been doing for the last couple of hours. You reached for your phone the first thing you noticed was Chan’s contact lighting up your screen. It was a screenshot of Chan you had taken during one of your many FaceTime calls. Your eyes were also drawn to the top left of your phone screen, it was currently 8:57 and you hadn’t had dinner yet. Quickly answering your phone you propped your phone up and left it sitting on Chan’s desk that you were currently sitting at.

“Hey,” you heard Chan’s voice from the other side of the phone. He sounded tired.

“Hey, babe. Are you at the hotel?”

“Yeah, we just arrived so I thought I would give you a call to let you know we all arrived safely. Sorry for not messaging you, the airport was just really stressful. There were so many people waiting on us arriving and the staff were struggling, just too much was happening.”

“It’s okay, don’t worry about it. You don’t need to apologise. Okay?” You interrupted him from his rant, you could see Chan, sitting somewhere in his hotel room and running a hand through his hair and rubbing his thighs.

“Wait! Have you still not left the dorm?”

“No. I left just after you to go and get some food. I don’t think I would have been able to survive with what you had in here,” You joked.

“Come on it's not that bad.” You laughed and Chan followed as you watched him throw his head back but it was short-lived, when his face dropped once again. It’s almost as if you could see the wheels in his head turning as he thought.

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s just that everything that happened at the airport is stressing me out. There were so many people and the staff were struggling, I know it’s not my problem to deal with but I always do my best to help and today I just feel like everything was a little out of hand. I know it’s not the first time it’s happened either and it’s definitely not the last I just wish there was something more I could do to help. But most importantly just make everyone safe.”

Chan always gave straightforward answers and told the truth when you asked him this question because he knew you could see right through him and would immediately know if he was lying. Of course, sometimes he didn’t want to talk about it, which you also understood and knew he would tell you when he was ready or sometimes not at all.

“Plus Lee Know is travelling alone tomorrow which is also stressing me out more, and honestly I think all I need is a hug.” He laughed and you felt your heart shatter at his last words but quickly remembered something you had packed in his case the night before.

“I’m sorry I can’t give you the thing you need most right now. But maybe I can give you the next best thing, go and check your case.” You watched as Chan rushed over to his case, sitting his phone on the floor so you could see him unzipping the case and throwing everything out. He looked at you with a confused expression as his case lay empty in front of him and he still couldn’t find the item you were talking about.

“It’s literally right there in your hand silly.”

He looked at the hoodie he was holding in his hands still with confusion before he finally realised what hoodie it was. Chan gave you this a couple of months ago when you were staying over and you just never gave it back. This wasn’t unusual between the two of you so he easily forgot about the many things he gave you and knew it would show up again eventually.

That or one of the other members stole the item he was missing.

“I was wondering where this went. I’m not going to take it off. Ever!”

“Your disgusting, you're going to need to take it off to perform. There is no way the staff are letting you perform in that.”

“I can be very persuasive”

“Oh, I’m sure you can. But I already planned for this soo... I put one of my perfumes in your toiletries bag so you can wash the hoodie”

He disappears from the phone screen and you can hear the sounds of objects falling on the bathroom floor as he empties yet another bag. He appears back in your view with the biggest smile on his face, well it’s certainly the biggest you have seen since he arrived in LA. Sometimes it was the smallest things that made him the happiest and not big grand gestures, just small things that reminded him you still cared and were always thinking about him.

You continued to talk to Chan for another couple of hours, both of you getting food and talking about his schedule for the next couple of days before deciding it was time to call it a night and get some rest.

But before you went to bed you had one more thing to do.

> Y/N - Felix are you busy rn?

Felix > No, is everything alright?

> Y/N - Yeah everything’s fine but can you do me a favour?

Felix > Of course, anything for you noona…

> Y/N - Can you go and give Chan a BIG HUG from me before going to bed please??

Felix > Give me 5 minutes!!!

Felix > Mission complete 🫡

> Y/N - Thank you lix!!, I’m going to bed now. Have a good day/night. Love you 💙

Felix > Goodnight noona, Love you too 💙

Before falling asleep your phone lights up and you see a message from Chan

Channie > I LOVE YOU!!!!

> Y/N - I LOVE YOU TOOO!!!

You were waiting for Chan to phone you after his performance at KCON, and of course, as you were waiting you scrolled through social media to see any updates that were posted about the boys, and it’s safe to say you were shocked. You had gotten so used to Chan wearing crop tops for his stage performances and wearing baggy clothes at home, that you had forgotten what he looked like with tight-fitted clothing. Even though you see him shirtless most of the time there is just something so attractive about seeing his muscles tense underneath the tight clothing. It’s safe to say Chan would definitely have a few strong-worded messages to read when he gets off stage.

You continue scrolling for another couple of minutes before your phone started to ring and chan's contact appeared on the screen.

"I Hate you," Chan said the second you answered the phone.

"Woah, what a way to greet your girlfriend," you replied placing a hand on your chest. You knew he was joking but you played along. "Do you want me to hang up? Is this a bad time or... "

"No, don't hang up. I'm just embarrassed and the boys keep asking me why I was smiling and laughing at my phone."

"Aww, I didn't know it was that bad. You started your nervous giggling just from my messages. I didn't know I had such an effect on you."

"Ya!!! Stop it. Your gonna make it so much worse if any of them hear you.”

"I'm sorry. You just make it too easy."

"See Chan hyung. Noona gets it, you are such an easy person to fluster and wind up. Which is why you're our favourite person to tease and are always our first target" Seungmin appears from behind Chan putting both hands on his shoulders and shaking him.

"Hey Seungmin, how are you?" You asked and watched as he took Chan's phone and sat on one of the couches in the waiting room.

You and Seungmin plus another couple of the members spoke for a while before they had to leave and go to the hotel for the night. Chan phoned you again before going to bed and told you some news that quite possibly made your night. Just before hanging up the phone and saying your goodbyes, Chan flipped the camera showing his stage outfit hanging up. You were already excited about chan coming home but now you were ecstatic.

© byeguyshiladies04 2023

[plantgamingtf2]

I noticed past Sans is actually using capitals (see exhibit A) in his dialouge.

This is different from the main game, where he is ell known for rarely if not never using capital letters when not serious (see exhibit B)

Now, this could be a stylistic decision, Sunset could've just forgotten about that. But I'd like to think that it's semi important to Sans and his future in the comic.

Sans is laid back, lazy. Not apathetic. When he is tasked to make a puzzle he just gives you an unsolvable word search. He doesn't care about much, like capitalizing his words. He's rarely serious and definitely not tragic. He isn't really well kept, wearing the same cost, shirt or sweater, shorts, and slippers everywhere.

This is in stark contrast of past Sans. He does actually care, sure he's still laid back, and a bit lazy. But he gets stuff done, helps around in the lab way more than present sans would probably do. He jokes around, but he's also much more well kept. He even goes out of his way to find someone that could help out in the lab. He cares enough to capitalize his letters.

Now, like I said, this all could be a coincidence and Sunset just forgot that Sans normally doesn't use capitals (very likely), but I think that it will become important. And let me get onto that.

I believe that after Dings falls into his own creation, Sans will no longer use capital lettering. He lost his brother, the only person who he visually gets mad at you for killing in UT. Yet he'd forget about Dings. He'd think he'd lost something important that he couldn't go on with, HE KNOWS HE LOST SOMETHING IMPORTANT THAT HE **COULDN'T GO ON WITH**, but he doesn't know what. Couldn't be his brother, he's right there trying to shove a human into a box. He probably finds the lab reports in the true lab, he recognizes the hand writing, but the name it is signed by, he doesn't recognize.He thinks if he makes whatever is in that lab behind the skeletons house, he'll be able to remember what he's forgetting... little does he know, what he's forgetting is only preserved in the lab reports he's already found. The text messages probably sent by what he's forgotten. But hey, that's just a theory. A COMIC THEORY!

End of chapter.

(Exhibits A and B are provided below)

Btw, before you go. If you're seeing this randomly, go support @sunsestart (If you're seeing this Sunset, hai), they make amazing art. As always, see you in like a month or two idk

@forgettable-au

[citrinekay]

Hey! I’ve been meaning to reach out and say hi for a while! Finally, I got a re-blog from you, tysm!! I’ve seen quite a few of your JCW posts (and also your stuff on various fandoms on AO3) and I know you’re quite the JCW fan – me too! Actually, I wanted to message to let you know that I think what you’re doing with the Andy/Revolver fanfic you’re writing is amazing. I read the first chapter a few days ago and am interested to see what you do with the story. The way you are dealing with some very sensitive topics is so well written, and I love the thought you have put into Andy’s character to give him this dark backstory. I’m looking forward to reading the rest when it’s completed, I never do well with chapter by chapter!! Also, well done for being the first to post for the Revolver fandom, I remember a short time back having to do that for the Pachinko fandom and I was nervous as hell. You are a very talented writer for sure, so I know the Revolver one will be a good read. Hopefully you’ll be inspired with Gangnam B-Side too once we see more. Anyway, sorry for waffling on, but if you ever wanna enthuse about JCW feel free to message ❤️ ~ take care 

Hi!! I've also seen your name popping up on AO3 too whenever I go to publish something JCW-related, like oh there's that one other person who loves him as much as I do😊lol I watched Worst of Evil last October and just fell completely in love him/ haven't been able to get back out of the obsession spiral since then thanks to pretty much every work he's done being worth watching. I don't expect the fixation to end any time soon haha

I'm genuinely so happy to receive feedback on my Revolver fic! Before I started posting, I made peace with the fact that it wasn't going to get much engagement since I had to create the fandom tag myself, but of course I do want some people to read and enjoy it. I was also fairly nervous about approaching those sensitive topics, so it's a relief to know that the way I'm presenting it doesn't feel offensive or tactless. It's always my intention to show the dark sides of human nature and relationships in a compelling but empathetic way. I couldn't stop thinking about the crumbs they gave us about Andy and Grace's relationship after I finished watching the movie, especially that final scene on the mountain when he begs her not to leave him and Madam Jung's comment to Suyeong that there's "rumors that he's her lover." She doesn't even allow people to know he's really her mom, which in and of itself could be pretty damaging to someone's development, but it seemed to me that the toxicity between them goes further than just this secret. They were clearly manipulating each other in that moment when she starts to walk away and then he cries and begs her not to leave. I thought that it seemed as if they had been through this type of push-and-pull before, a vicious cycle from which there is no escaping, and I really wanted to examine what had led up to that point.

It also really struck me that even though Andy is a privileged, wealthy person, he is drinking alone when Suyeong first meets him. Nobody rushes to his rescue when she's beating him and nobody really cares that he got hurt afterward (not even Grace, she's just mildly annoyed!) While it's true that his behavior invites getting his ass kicked, I think that anyone acting with such conscious disregard of their own life and everyone else's might have serious trauma that has never been addressed. Anyway, I totally understand waiting to read the fic until it's complete and I hope you enjoy the rest once it's done. I'll be updating weekly, so it shouldn't be too much longer.

Also, absolutely yes about Gangnam B-Side. I watched the first 2 episodes on Wednesday evening and my brain is already tickling with many thoughts about Gilho. As always, JCW is delivering a performance full of depth and nuance 🖤 I'll wait until the show has finished airing and I have all the character details to start writing but atm I can almost guarantee there will be some fics coming from me!

[staybabblingbaby]

SGAU CH. 1 (Dahlia) Editing Sacrifices

[Caution: These are not full fics, or even full parts of fics for some, these are part of my writing progress archive!]

Concept: Growing up, you knew Soulmates weren't all that they cracked up to be. So when, on your 18th birthday, your skin is painted with a garden of flower buds, you resolve to hide it from everyone. Who had ever heard of someone with 8 soulmates, anyway?

Or; Reader has 8 soulmates and no issue avoiding all of them. It's up to SKZ to show her that while every soulbond might not be made of fairy tales, theirs certainly could be.

Word Count: 928 (821 + 107)

Notes: As promised from the poll! Things I edited out, mostly paragraphs I changed or rewrote to help the story flow better. These are all non-canon btw. In a universe slightly to the left, maybe. Dividers by @saradika

Warnings: She/Her Reader, sort of dissociating? ish?

Leave me comments or questions or anything! Love hearing from folks <3

Masterlist <3 | Main Part

[From Ch.1 a1d1, basically this chapter's idea drabble lol]

You know, as soon as you brush his hand at send-of, that Bang Christopher Chan is your soulmate.

Not in a delulu fan sort of way either. In that geunie, earth-shattering, reality-altering sort of way as you feel pins and needles across your entire lower abdomin as dozens of tiny white flowers begin to bloom. You'd say the sensation was similar to butterflies in your stomach if it didn't hurt like you were getting many fresh tattoos at once.

You're equally certain, as you snatch your hand back and try to smile away your grimace of pain, that the man has no idea. He's distracted by hundreds of screaming fans who are all too eager to get his attention, already moving on from your short interaction.

You're glad you already got your autograph, soulmate or not, because you were getting out of here Pronto. You had. A lot to process right now.

You look around for a way to get out of the pressing crowd, and spot a girl you vaguely remembered seeing at sound check. If you recall, she'd bodly bodied anyone who tried to steal her slot at the barricade out of the way, all while retaining a sunny smile and excited chatter with her friends. A plan forms in your head, and you struggle your way to her.

"Hey," You call out quietly as your able with the noise of a sardine-packed crowd around you. You reach out and are able to gently grasp her elbow and successfully grab her attention. You look at her with imploring eyes as you plead, "can you help me get out of the crowd? I'm having really bad cramps right now."

You gingerly cradle your abdominal to show what you mean (and also in a feeble attempt to curb the lingering pain), and what as her face flashes through confusion, comprehension, and sympathy as she registers your pained face and posture and connects it with your words and apparent gender.

"Oh, of course, sweetie!" She proclaims, wrapping a warm arm around your shoulders, "you got someone to take care of you?" She questions with concerns as her eyes start scanning the pack of people.

"Yeah," You lie, "I just gotta get to a bathroom or something first." She nods in understanding, and finally spots who she was looking for in the crowd.

She shouts something over your head, and gives you a gentle squeeze as she passes you back to another girl behind you. "All right then, be safe, sugar." You give her a feeble smile and a nod of thanks.

The next girl takes you in as gently as the first, and so begins a chain of you being passed down between two or more girls at a time, the brief explination of "She needs out" getting people to move accordingly.

It's a bit facinating to witness the teamwork between women of varying ages, ethnicities, and nationalities as they all come together to take care of you, who probably looks a bit pathetic and injured right now. Luckily there's enough people who aren't too focused on the group you're all here for to help you, and soon enough, you're out of the crowd, back against a quiet wall and head between your knees.

The last lady who'd helped you, an older woman with a Jinniret picket, goes as far as to help get you to sitting down and check on you before she returns to her fan activities. You wave her off with reassurances that you're here with others and just need to get your nausea under control before you go find them. She leaves you with a worried backwards glance, but she's quickly swallowed by the crowd again and you marvel at ever having gotten out of it.

Girl power, you guess.

Still, you suck in a deep breath, press your hands to your sore and tender tummy, and breathe out again. You steel yourself with determination, and rise to your feet with a wince after a minute or two.

You may not actually have anyone here to help you home, but you did have a train to catch if you wanted to be out of dodge before Bangchan registered whatever change happened to his soul mark, tiny as it must have been for him to show as little reaction as he did.

The thought puts a little halt on your determined March for a second, the thought that you'd have such a small impact on him when his impact on you was so huge cutting somewhere deep in your chest. But you quickly shake it off and resume. Because you have no intention of meeting any other soulmates tonight.

After all, if you have eight soulmates, and Chan is one of them, you're not a big enough believer in coincidences to not guess who the others are. It's a shame you don't get any other autographs that night, though.

[From Ch.1 a2d1, before the whole soulmate touch thingy. I rlly liked this idea, but I couldn't fit it in TT^TT]

What you don’t see is, after signing your photocard and receiving a very dazed and automatic thank you, Lee Know backtracking just a bit to subtly point you out to Bangchan. Chan locks eyes on your squished, miserable looking self, and makes his way over to your section.

It takes a bit of crowd work, but Chan is proud of himself when you’re looking a little less smooshed by the railing. Several people were, actually, but you had sorta looked like you were going to be sick about it. He’d make sure to ask security to keep an eye out for you when he had a moment.

[ghostinthegallery]

Hey there!! I really enjoyed your insight the other day about how writing a serial differs from a plotted-out-and-written-in-advance novel! As someone who's just dipping my toes into posting as I write, any chance you could give some advice or tips you've learned about that style of writing specifically? 💚

(from @inquisitor-gayfax)

Why yes! I'd love to (thank you for giving me the excuse XD)

The main thing I have realized is that experience with traditional, "complete on arrival" novels is actually super helpful for serial writing. The principles of character writing, world building, and all that still apply, but even more importantly the beats you want your story to hit are all pretty much the same. You want that into, the inciting incident, the midpoint turn, etc. Those are all vital to keeping your story on track. Especially as serials are prone to meandering. It is so easy to get lost and lose sight of the forest for the trees. For me, always checking with myself that I am hitting or actively working towards those major beats helps to keep me on track.

Also note that one big thing will be different is the length. Serials tend to get much longer and thus the beats are stretched out. The length is because each chapter essentially functions as a short story in and of itself. It has to be a satisfying reading experience on its own as well as in the context of the larger work. This oftentimes means fleshing things out more than you otherwise would and bam, longer work. (not necessarily as long as I often go! but the tendency is there). FWIW, I find editing these chapters as I got to be much easier than editing a whole novel. I do miss being able to move big chunks and scenes around (cut and paste, my beloved), but it is worth the tradeoff to me.

The nature of the chapters functioning as short stories (minus a definitive ending of course) is probably going to be the biggest difference if you are someone who writes the entire thing ahead of time and then posts chapter by chapter, as opposed to posting as you write or posting with a backlog but not a finished novel.

Now, the other biggest difference if you are posting as you go is that you will not have the chance to revise the entire story the way you do with a traditional novel. You cannot go back and change things, add foreshadowing or a character beat or anything. Once you publish that chapter, the events are set in stone.

I actually enjoy this! It is a fun challenge to work with what I have established. But...I also cheat. I have a tendency to drop little things here and there that could be hints at larger plot points or things that are setting up things later on, but they are vague enough that I am not fully locked into anything.

The secret is that your readers are unlikely to remember a small detail in chapter 3 that didn't really go anywhere. But they will remember that detail in chapter 4 that got paid off in chapter 35 and you will look like a super genius (I am 99% sure Eiichiro Oda, possibly the greatest serial fantasy writer/artist of all time has done this writing One Piece, alongside his legit 5-D chess long game reveals)

To call myself out, here is an interaction from chapter 5 of The Silence & the Storm (poster child of fics that got too long)

Before he turned to go, he placed a hand on Anrakyr’s shoulder. Anrakyr tried to shake him off, but his grip was as strong as his bulky build would imply. Through an interstitial message he said, “If you ever wish to hear of Pyrrhia, you need only ask. Perhaps you still have friends there? Perhaps not. But would you not like to know?” “What are you—” Zultanekh broke the connection. He started back down the corridor, and Anrakyr had to choose whether to chase him, or remain with this stranger.

I had no idea what had actually happened on Pyrrhia when I wrote that. I just knew I wanted to address Anrakyr's backstory and why he left his home planet, so I left myself that set up figuring I would pay it off later. And then in chapter 48 we got this:

“Do you remember back when the mot was called,” Anrakyr said. “You told me that if I wished to know about Pyrrhia I need only ask. That I might still have friends there. Was that true?” “Would I lie about such a thing? Never,” Zultanekh replied, surprisingly softly. “Did my own wanderings take me to Pyrrhia? Yes, they did. An unlucky clash with some orks left this ship in need of repairs—although make no mistake the orks were far worse off! Space debris after we were done with them.” Anrakyr flashed a glyph of impatience.  “In any case,” Zultanekh continued. “We landed, declaring our intentions to repair and leave. Had we heard rumors of lost Pyrrhia? We had, however the planet itself was quite…orderly. Calm.”

The conversation goes on as Zultanekh describes more of what he saw because 33 chapters later I, the author, now know what happened and can start giving that pay off. Sometimes I will get really lucky and find something I didn't intend as foreshadowing but that happens to work! Those are good days.

Now this is a risky strategy. You can limit your options when you do this, and you have to make the pay off make sense given whatever you set up. I've definitely wished for the power to go back and edit some of my vague hints in the past. But that is the challenge! True you could actually be good at planning and meticulously plant all your little seeds and reveals. Or you can be me, a creature of vibes and chaos.

Speaking of vibes, I think it is important to talk about the audience. And how they will influence you. When you present a finished story, that is it. It is done. The audience can talk about the story all they want, but it cannot retroactively influence how you wrote the book. With serial writing 99% of the time readers will be able to comment. And I think we writers have to be very careful about how we let that affect our writing.

The Game of Thrones writing team apparently at some point decided that "fooling the audience" and being unpredictable was more important than telling a good story, so they changed plot points when too many audience members predicted certain outcomes. This is bad. However, sometimes audience feedback is good! I personally unlocked a whole subplot because a commenter asked about a character I had included totally at random. It was a filler name! I did not realize this character was in a game, but realizing that gave me incredible stuff to work with. I'm glad I listened to them! Not to mention the incredible kindness and support that has kept me going through some rough patches in my life. By that same token, negative comments can feel awful. I have not found that to be an issue in my corner of the 40k fandom, but it is absolutely a consideration in other spaces (especially outside of fanfic) so just be aware.

I hope that answered your question! Probably too much, but as we have firmly established, I am verbose ☺️

[cherrychapstick54]

Amnesia Was Her Name

Chapter One: Goat Boy

Title from “Amnesia Was Her Name” by Lemon Demon

Synopsis: Tommy wakes up with a throbbing pain in his head and a lack of memory of what caused it. Luckily, a friend is there to help.

Beforehand: All characters in this series are meant to be 100% fictional. These are not the real people who play the characters, and I do not support William Gold or any of the Dream Team. This story was written by me and @genderlessbleach when I started out as an editor. Later in the story I took over writing to help Bleach with the stress, but until stated otherwise, this was a collaborative effort.

Tommy had woken up, first confused, where was he? A mud hole or hut, possibly a house, a poorly made house then, the floor was hard and soft, and the damn place was cold and wet. He sat himself up, why was he here? His body hurt like a bitch and his head was throbbing, god he couldn’t even remember who he was, that’s not a good thing he’s pretty fucking sure. Pushing himself off the ground with a groan, his bones and joints cracking as he does, fucking hell his clothes were muddy, and was that blood?! Fuck, it is blood.

Tommy doesnt fucking know what to do, so naturally, he screeches, “WHAT THE FUCK!” Why is there so much blood! Is it his?! “Oh god oh god I’m going to die!” The brit was maybe a touch dramatic but he was covered in blood, of course he was going to be fucking dramatic! You don’t just wake up covered in blood one fucking day, that is not fucking normal, let alone something that happens on your average day! He needed to get his mind off of this bullshit and fast.

The blonde boy searched around the dirt hut looking for some clean clothes, he needed to clean himself up, his current clothes were fucking gross. After digging around some chests and stripping himself of his shirt he found some new clothes, granted they happened to be just the same shirt and pants, it wasn’t that bad, the shirt was cool looking and he needed to clean up, so it was a win to the brit. He tried to brush off the grime on his body with just his hands, quickly realizing he needed water in order to do so.

“Fucking hell,” he looked around for a bucket of water and cloth, silently thanking the gods when he found some. The teen cleaned himself off, finally able to put some fresh clothes on.

“Seems like it is time for little ol’ me to get outside.'' He spoke to himself, stretching out only to feel pain run through his body, “ow ow ow oh fuckkkkk-” he stops rubbing over the painful spots, “not doin’ that shit again.” He heads out of the house, feeling the pain run through his body. God, leaving his house wasn’t a good idea, he was immediately stopped by some fuckin’ short ass goat man, how dare this tiny horned dipshit stop him!

“Hey Tommy! Are you alright, cause like last night wasn’t pretty, Wilburs bombing was pretty heavy. I had to drag your poor knocked out ass home after you got knocked out by the explosion! I guess it’s weird for me to ask if you’re alright, you got real fucked up out there. and,,” The goat boy continues talking while Tommy, that’s his name right? That’s what this goat boy said, but is he even trustworthy?

“What are you even saying? Who even are you?” He looked down at the horned boy, “Why are you speaking to me like you know me?” Trying to actually tell the boy about his confusion didn’t seem to work, as all he got in return was a confused stare.

“Tommy how hard did you hit your head man? You’re acting all weird! It’s me Tubbo, your best friend?? Bee boy, your spy for pogtopia, hello man, do you need some ice for your head?” What the boy, or Tubbo said all sounds familiar, but he can’t remember it, like none at all. Weird, it’s probably just nothing though, cause maybe its just his brain forgetting things ‘cause of the bombs and it’ll all come back to him.

“Agh, sorry Tubs,” what- where did Tubs come from? Whatever, “My head still hurts from the bombs, it's hard to think clearly, ya know, blunt force trauma.” He chuckles, hopefully he’s not completely lying. He smiles at the goat boy... Tubbo, hoping that what he said is all true, because he’d like to know what the fuck is happening. Also, thank the gods Tubbo seemed to believe what he said.

“Alright Tom, just stop being all sketchy, okay? I'm going to see if the hole is safe to explore yet. I’ll talk to you later, yeah?” The goat boy then went off towards where Tommy could only assume the bomb site was. Tommy sighed at the leaving of the smaller boy's presence, what a strange little man.

“What the hell is going on?” Tommy questions himself quietly, “Why can’t I just fucking remember everything?!” Nearly screaming the last bit, he heads down the oak pathway, lost in his thoughts about everything.

“Stupid fucking bombs messing up my brain…” The tall boy grumbles, kicking rocks off of the prime path, just trying to get his emotions out any way he can. This all sucks, he just wants to know what’s going on! He groans, sitting down on the edge of the path with an angry thump.

“Why did it have to be me of all god damn people!” He huffs, looking out at the structures that are visible to him from the path, his jaw is clenched as he gazes out at the land.

- Divider credits to @issysh3ll -