#initially he was red w darker red shading

[spaceboy-art]

The minotaur and his red string of fate :(

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I used This Post as a reference

[drgngutz]

10 - Coast - Luffy x f!soulmate!reader

Chapter 10

Taglist: @mystic60 , @louisechec , @pinksh1t , @violetmatcha , @urbisexualfriend

Masterlist!

Sorry in advance... This part is like a whole book lol. After this chapter the rest get a lot shorter, it took FOREVER to write this one.

Enjoy <3

It's past nightfall, and the crew and I have made ourselves at home in the half-house of Mont Blanc Cricket. He had initially attacked us, thinking we were thieves coming to steal his golden treasures, before fainting suddenly from a diving disease. When he came to, after Dr. Chopper's treatment, he was entirely apologetic. 

Words and motivations are exchanged, apologies are shared, and he comes to the decision that he would help us make it to sky island on something called the knock-up stream; a dangerous way of traveling to be sure, and I wasn't exactly thrilled about the idea of being thrust into the sky, just to possibly fall back down and become fish food. 

I had been subtly keeping an eye on Luffy throughout the ordeal, on edge after he came back from Mocktown where he, Nami and Zoro went out for information...

A dull pain spreads across my skin; spots on my face, arms and torso seem to burn without a source. It was weird, looking down at the untouched surface, but feeling like I was covered in cuts and bruises all the same. 

"Luffy, Zoro!" Usopp calls, sounding extremely concerned. I look up from where we’re working on the ship; My brows furrow at the blood staining their clothes. 

"W-What happened? Why are you bleeding?" Usopp prods further. They don’t give him an answer. 

I scan Luffy head to toe, noting the marred skin on all the same spots where I could feel the pain resonating; that answered the question, another factor of the soulmate link I suppose, but it didn't make me any less worried. They had gone into town to find some answers about sky island, not to get into fights and cause trouble. 

"Luffy, what-- Are you okay?" I met him halfway as they made their way back to the boat. My hands are itching to reach out and brush the blood from his face as we stand in front of each other, but I hold back the feeling, holding them at my sides hesitantly. 

"What are you so worried about?" He laughs, and my shoulders slouch. 

"I'm fine. Let's go." And he walks past without another word. At the moment, it feels like he's brushed me off. Maybe he didn't like me fretting over him? 

Nami is quick to unknowingly distract me as I walk up to her and ask if she's okay; delving straight into a rant about how the two men were being 'idiotic' and how she was publicly humiliated for asking about sky island. 

“They all laughed at me! And those two morons just stood there and did nothing–” 

At the time, I'm too busy appeasing Nami and letting her vent her sorrows, I don’t notice the eyes zeroing in on the back of my head as he grins. 

Now he was fine, of course. He never was phased by many of his wounds, from what I could tell. In fact, he was parading around with the monkey brothers, rough housing, dancing, shouting, eating-- You get the picture.

To be honest, it seemed like the events from earlier today seemed totally forgotten in general. Everyone was partying now, munching on Sanji's snacks and drinking to their hearts delight. Music plays softly in the background. I try my best to ease into the atmosphere and forget about before, too. 

"Here, have some!" Nami holds the wooden tankard toward me, offering me the sickly-sweet smelling drink. Her cheeks are flushed. 

"I'm good, thanks though." I smile, lifting my own cup of juice to show I already had a drink. I wasn't interested in alcohol, anyways. 

"Hey, why don't you girls come sit next to me, huh?" Cricket's face is an even darker shade of red, covering his cheeks, nose, forehead, and ears as the bottle of wine sloshes in his hand. I smile at him bashfully, and lean into Nami, who giggles and leans back. Sanji is quick to cover for us, though I knew the older man didn’t mean much harm. 

"Woah-- You're about a hundred years too old to be hitting on Nami; and (Y/n)'s taken, anyway." His foot is planted on the older man's face, holding him back from leaning too close to us. I'm amazed that he's able to keep holding the plates of food as he does this, expertly laying some down in front of us. 

I take a bite of some sort of fish sashimi, and my spirits lift at the flavor. 

"This is amazing, Sanji!" I compliment him, going for another piece. 

"Oh, (Y/n)! I feel I may go to heaven when an angel like you speaks to me like that!" He spins, hearts in his eyes as he nearly whacks Luffy in the face with his foot. It looks like he's completely forgotten his own words from earlier, when emphasizing that I was taken.

"I always compliment your cooking..." I trail off with a little giggle, finally feeling the effects of the good mood begin to rub off on me. 

"'The skulls right eye!'" 

Cricket says in a haunting tone from across the room. How did he get there so quickly, you ask? I have no idea. 

"'That's where I saw the gold.'" He quotes from 'Noland the Liars' log book, which lies in Robin's hands. Noland was Cricket's ancestor, so I wasn't surprised if he might've memorized the documents; despite his insistence on hating his predecessor. 

"Those words, smeared with tears, were the last ones Noland wrote in his logbook. 'The skulls right eye, that's where I saw the gold.'" Everyone in the room stops, enraptured in the exhilaration of his words. And, frankly, so am I. To imagine the possibility of an entire city of gold, of an island in the sky; that was stuff that people could only dream of in the modern world. It was enough to make something as amazing as Time’s Square look bland.

"Noland was executed the same day." There's a heavy silence as nobody speaks, on the edge of their seat, waiting for him to continue. 

"Even after coming to Jaya, I still don't know what he meant by that. Is it referring to the name of a city, or an old landmark that used to reside on the island? Was it just a poetic allusion to his own impending death? The blank pages that follow give us no clue..." Luffy has begun eating again at this point, moaning happily at the taste of the food through Cricket's storytelling. 

"That's why we keep diving to the bottom of the ocean; We have a dream, and it’s on the seafloor!" The crew, Masira and Shoujou let out a 'hurrah' at the end of Cricket's speech. 

Dreams. It was a topic that came up time and time again in our travels. An important topic to everyone I had met so far. The crew, Zenny, Henzo, Cricket, and I; we all had dreams that we wanted to fulfill. There were places we wanted to go, people we wanted to see, mysteries to solve, people to find...

I looked at Luffy, who was still happily chewing away, before looking back down at the food before us and finding my own snack to munch on. 

I guess I had already found my own dream, right?

"'The day I arrived on Jaya. Entry for May 21st, 1122. Upon landing on the island, we heard strange bird calls and the sound of a very large bell coming from the forest. The sound of that huge golden bell resonated far and wide, almost as if showing off the prosperity of a city long past! We thought we knew everything after living for a few decades... but experiencing the transience of this civilization that flourished for a long time on the wide open sea left us speechless! The sound of the bell had us stopped in our tracks!'" Cricket ended the quote with an enigmatic roar, which the trio of monkey boys echoed just as enthusiastically. 

"I just love stories with bells in them, especially gold ones!" Nami cheered, and I rolled my eyes with a laugh.

“Nami, you love anything that’s shiny and has a price tag.” She playfully slapped my shoulder, and I shied away jokingly. 

Right after Nami said it, Cricket produced that exact object from a large crate in the corner of the room; three golden bells. The girl, proving my point, practically jumped on them. 

"Huh... Doesn't seem too enormous to me." Usopp observed with a hand on his chin. Nami was cuddling one of the objects with Berry signs in her eyes. 

"These aren't that bell. They're bell-shaped golden ingots we found on the ocean floor." Cricket responded with a close-eyed smile. 

"No way. So there really is a city of gold!" Luffy cried, finally done eating. 

"It's still not proof, though! You could find golden relics like that lying around in any old ruins." Shoujou yells at him, trying not to let his anticipation get too high (a futile effort with Luffy). 

"Maybe so," Robin begins, and I know she's about to give us some historically-accurate-based-hope that would reinforce their belief in the mythical city; "But it does suggest that there was a civilization here sometime in the past. Ingots are made to divide gold into standardized units of weight. And that would indicate an advanced trading society."

"Exactly," Cricket affirms, "And remember that peculiar bird call he said they heard when they landed? Show it to 'em, Masira." 

Masira is moving before Cricket finishes his sentence, unveiling another, much larger, artifact composed completely out of gold. The creature that it depicts looks like a morphed version of a toucan, with a large beak and small body. Everyone is awed at the way it glistens in the candlelight. 

"Golden bells and birds, huh? Do you think they might be symbols of some ancient Jayan civilization?" Sanji asked, and I had to agree with the topic of the question; so far, all signs were pointing to that being the case. 

"I really couldn't say for certain, but I'm pretty sure all these pieces were a part of the same casting. This creature here is called the South Bird, and they still exist on this island today." Cricket pulled it closer to himself, inspecting the golden exterior for scuffs. Luffy follows it eagerly. 

"Wow, so they have a peculiar call?" The curious boy asks, still staring down at the remnant in wonder. 

"Uh-huh," Cricket confirms, "Just like in the log book." 

"Sailors have used South birds on ships since ancient times, so that--" Masira chokes on the words before he can finish speaking, and the two monkey brothers gasp in realization, looking at each other nervously. I furrow my brow, concerned, before hearing Cricket make the same noise. 

"Oh, crap!" The three of them emit, jumping to a stand in the middle of the room, a newfound urgency in what was once a laid back stance. 

"What's wrong?" The crew responds with equal importance. 

"This is really bad," Cricket spits, "You guys gotta' get to the forest on the South side of the island right away!" 

"Huh? Are you crazy, old guy?" Luffy looks at Cricket with a deadpan, not sure what he was talking about. I wasn’t sure what the problem was either. 

"Don't waste a minute! You gotta' capture one of these birds, and quickly!" Cricket chastised his question, before continuing swiftly.

"Now, listen carefully," he didn't waste another moment, "Tomorrow you're gonna' sail for the knock up stream; it lies directly South of here. How are you going to get there?" 

"We just sail the ship due South, of course." Luffy grunts, eyebrows furrowed and arms crossed as if the conversation was beginning to aggravate him. 

"Have you forgotten this is The Grand Line?! You're heading for the open sea, you won't be able to get your bearings!" Cricket shouts. 

"Wait, he's right. Without an island to lock onto, the log pose will be useless and there will be no way to navigate!" Nami exclaimed, looking anxious at the idea. 

"Oh." I said out loud, the cause of all this commotion clicking together in my head. They all turned to look at me. 

"W-Well," I started after noticing they were waiting for me to elaborate, "We need a South bird, and we need to go South... I'm just guessing, but does the South bird help us get there somehow?" 

The crew all looked at me like I was crazy. 

"I-I dunno,' maybe it like… migrates, or something." I finish nervously, before Cricket huffs out a puff of smoke from his cigarette. 

"She's right; you can use the South bird in order to get there. Certain animals are known to have a very accurate internal sense of direction, as if they're born with a natural compass." Cricket finalizes, and Usopp pats my shoulder apologetically for not believing me. I give him a look. 

"That makes Zoro dumber than an animal!" Luffy chortles. 

"Yeah, right, like you're one to talk!" 

"The South bird is a perfect example of this," Cricket ignores them, "their bodies always point in the same direction. Basically, if you don't get to that forest and catch one of those birds right now, you'll kiss your only chance to get to sky island goodbye!" 

Luffy, Chopper, and Usopp all screech in horror at the idea, before assuming a desperate scramble to get going. The rest of the crew follows, and we begin to rush out like a bunch of clowns in a tiny car. Despite Usopp's annoyance at the ordeal, Cricket hands out a few nets to aid in the capture. 

"The three of us are gonna' get started on the repairs to your broken-down ship." The monkeys are waving goodbye from behind Cricket, and I take that as our cue to leave. As soon as I turn though, I'm met with Zoro. 

"I think you should stay here," He gruffs, "since you've been working on the ship with Usopp, you can tell them about all the broken parts. We'll find the bird." 

I'm taken aback, speechless. I glance between his stern eyes, then at the gazes of the crew behind him, who seem to genuinely consider his statement. Sure, I wasn't the strongest in the group, but did he really think I couldn't help them find the South bird? Was I really that useless to them? 

I didn't get to ask him why, before Cricket interrupted. 

"Actually, yeah. That would be pretty helpful, so we don’t miss anything." 

"Are... you sure?" I finally spoke up, "You don't want my help?"

"Nah!" Luffy joyfully replies, "Zoro’s right, we're good. You should help Cricket out, anyways!" 

"Oh." I say softly, not even sure if they could hear me. As the group heads towards the forest, the only one who has a semblance of recognition for me getting left behind is Usopp, who begs to stay with me out of fear. Zoro gives me a nod, before following the rest of the group.

My chest hurts. I wanted to go with them.  

"We'll be back, okay?" Nami calls, "See you soon!"

I stand there, holding my marked arm in my hand. Their figures disappear into the darkness, before Cricket comes over and places a hand on my shoulder. I look up at him wearily. 

"Come on, there's no time to waste." I nod in response, trudging after him to the beat-up vessel. 

—

I do my best to identify and list each problem that the ship has over the next hour that passes, entirely off of my memory. The past few weeks of helping Usopp with its repairs were coming in handy. Still, it’s hard to stay focused when you have a realization that your crew might not actually value you as a member yet, despite your efforts, and still only sees you as some free-loader who can't really contribute; because you’re a weakling-weirdo who came here from another world a few weeks ago, and your soulmate still doesn't really give a damn about you at all. 

I wish I wasn't so useless. 

"Alright, that's the mast finished. What's next, short stack?" Masira hollers, and I take a look at the sides of the ship which are a patch-work of boards. I'm doing my best to get rid of the nauseous feeling in my stomach. 

"Well, the sides of the ship need work, and the hull does too... Some of the floorboards still need to be replaced, and..." I trail off, trying to organize my thoughts. 

"I'm guessing you're not too familiar with this line of work, kid." Cricket observes, and I shrink. 

"Sorry." I mumble, averting my eyes to The Merry's figure head. It looks back at me, silent and judging. 

"Don't be sorry," the older man continued, "I was just gonna' say that might've been the reason they left you behind." 

Something pinches in my chest. 

"Right... yeah, probably." I deflated, before moving to grab one of the boards they were using for the repairs. 

"Don't take it in a negative way, kid." He stops me in my tracks, and I turn to look at him. What positive way was there to think about this? 

"You're soulmates with Luffy, right?" I nod, "Then it's probably because of your lack of experience that they left you here; it's much safer here with us than it is out in the dark, in those woods. Try not to be so down about it." 

I blink, wrapping my head around the words, before slowly nodding again. He had a point, I suppose… But, why hadn’t they just said that in the first place? If they were worried about keeping me safe, they could’ve just said so. 

"Hey, Old Timer!" Shoujou shouts, his green hair flowing in the wind as the two of us look up at him. 

"We've got some company!" He points at a ship that's nearly ready to dock at the side of the island, not too far from where we stood in front of Cricket's home. None of us had managed to notice it until that point. 

"Who is that?" Cricket asks out loud, and I shake my head, stumped. 

"I dunno.'" I say quietly, before the two monkey brothers have made their way over. 

The boat, a dull brown with pink and gray accents, lowers the bridge for the crew to dock. Their jolly-roger waves in the brisk wind, showcasing a stuck-out tongue and lips over crossed bones. A small crowd of twelve people begins to filter out, led by a blonde man with a pink shirt and a blue-and-gold-adorned coat over his shoulders. His sinister smile matches the one on the figure head, crossed out with a half-slash. Cricket pushes me behind him before they get too close. I lose most of my visibility. 

"Mont Blanc Cricket!" He shouts from across the landscape, a wild edge to his tone. 

"Rumor in town says you've fished up quite the sum of gold recently... I'd like to have it for myself!" Pirates, I think, and not the good kind. 

"Now, now, little boy," Shoujou starts, voice carrying over the whipping wind, "You don't really wanna' go and make us angry, do you?" 

"It's not nice to show up in the middle of the night and demand gold from someone, now get lost! We've got a lot of work to do and not a lot of time to do it." Masira backs him up, chuckling as he cracks his knuckles. 

The man from before, whom I assume is the Captain, begins to cackle in a way that reminds me of a hyena. 

"You must be the bodyguards, and the old man must be the ex-pirate named Cricket... I heard the sad story of the Mont Blancs family, back at the pub. It moved me to tears." He taunted, and I could hear the teasing edge of his voice… He was mocking them.

"But stealing another man's treasure moves me even more; I'm a pirate, after all!” He grunts, and I hear the rustling of fabric as he removes his coat. 

"Maybe you'd like to know what people call me before I take your whole life's work. The Hyena!" Fitting. 

He chortles in a high pitch, true to his name; I can feel the tension thicken in the air, sticking uncomfortably to my skin, just as it always does right before a fight ensues. It seems they haven’t noticed me yet, and I'm thankful for Cricket allowing me to use him as a human shield.

"If you're looking for a fight, you've come to the right place!" Shoujou responds heartedly. 

"You're gonna regret mockin' the Saruyama alliance!" Masira is in a fighting stance, looking ready for whatever was inevitably coming our way. 

And it comes quickly. The crewmates charge with a rambunctious shout, throwing fists and words as they do it. I move back into the house as Cricket joins the skirmish, not looking to get myself involved. 

"Hand over the gold, Old Man! Do it quickly, and we may even let you live!" Another man with light blue hair, donned with a fur coat, gold chain, and striped gloves shouts as Cricket dodges. 

"You forgot to say 'please!'" He thrusts out his leg and kicks the guy in the chin after effectively blocking all of his punches; the blue haired man flips backward from the force of it. 

The Monkey brothers are holding their own just as well, effectively slamming away four or five other crewmates that had joined in on the action. 

Their captain, 'The Hyena,' stands with arms crossed and an excited smile. The sight makes my skin crawl. What the hell was he up to? 

"Looks like the boys might actually need a hand…" The blonde licks his lips, eyes wide. 

"Guess I'd better show 'em how it's done!" 

The others are too focused on the fight to realize what's happening, but I'm not. 

I watch the blonde's legs as they morph into springs. He crouches down, springs coiling; looking ready to pounce, and aiming for Masira. 

There isn’t a chance to warn him of what's coming, since the captain has already shot himself across the way, straight into Masira's back. 

The monkey-man groans, dropping the man in his hold as his back bends, and his eyes roll back. His body awkwardly molds into a ‘C’ shape, all due to the spring-man's punch.

Before he can recover, the blonde grabs Masira and launches himself off of the monkey's face, effectively punching Shoujou while simultaneously knocking his brother behind him. 

Next, he springs for Cricket, who dodges in the nick of time; however, the blonde is quick to rebound, landing on the Going Merry and propelling off of it with enough force to snap the hull in two. 

Cricket must've been too shocked to retaliate. The captain had punched him dead in the face within the next second, maintaining terrifying accuracy and speed. I watched the blood spill from the old man's lips in horror as he ragdolled onto the dirt. 

"Way to go, Bellamy!" One of the women of his crew acts as a cheerleader for the massacre, overjoyed by her captains brutality. 

"Cricket!" I cry out, pushing myself past the doorway and rushing to his side. He was laying so still, he looked like he was dead. I was anxious about him taking such a beating with his condition, since Chopper was so serious about it earlier. What if this pushed him past his limit? 

I don't make it very far, before I'm shoved in the shoulder and to the ground by the man with light-blue hair. 

"Look, Bellamy; they've got a girl!" He grins, and points his double-edged sword so that it rests under my chin. His Captain howls with laughter. 

"Well, well, well! Looks like Cricket might still have that pirate's spirit in him, after all!" He uncrosses his arms, reaching for his coat on the ground. 

I shiver as the cold steel brushes against my skin, not taking my eyes off the blade, even as it reflects the brightness of the moon into my eyes and blinds me. 

I’m too scared to swallow or breathe wrong. Any slight movement and he could have my neck sliced wide open. 

"Why don't we take you with us, huh?" The man removes the weapon from my jugular, finally, and I feel my limbs tremble. 

"How about it, we can pay you real nice in return..." He suggests. I feel like I could puke at his insinuation. 

"Enough!" Shouts Bellamy, "Grab her, and clean up this trash. Get the gold and take care of them."

Wordlessly, the blue-haired man reaches down and picks me up like a sack of potatoes, moving toward the massive ship. 

"No--" I grunt, trying to pry his arm off of me, "Lemme' go! I don't want to--" 

I kick and struggle the whole way, trying to get him to put me back down, but he doesn’t even acknowledge me. No matter how many times I punch or slap, my strikes are weak. 

The rest of their crew rushes past and begins to beat whatever life is left out of the Saruyama Alliance. They smash, jab, slash; all while they're still lying on the ground, stiff and unmoving. And they still don't stop, even as their blood begins absorbing into the grass. 

"Stop it!" I cry desperately, voice grating as tears run down my face, "Please, stop! Cricket, Masira, Shoujou!" 

"So much for your Saruyama Alliance," Bellamy chuckles, "Just an old man and a couple of overgrown apes!" 

"Just take the gold and go!" I yelp, getting closer and closer to their boat. 

"Haven't you done enough? Leave them alone!" 

"Shut her up, Sarquiss. I've had enough of her yowling." 

"Will do, Captain Bellamy." The gag is tied tightly around my head when they wrangle me onto the ship, inevitably rendering me unable to speak. They bind my hands and feet, before leaving me in the ship's corner, where I can still see the island.

As the crew begins to cast off, bag of Crickets gold in tow, I stare longingly over the rails; sobbing into the rag as I watch the limp forms of the Saruyama Alliance get farther and farther away. 

Quaking in my corner, no longer being able to worry about the Saruyama Alliance, I glanced around at the horrible smirking faces of Bellamy’s crew. In my haste to help Cricket, I had forgotten about my own safety. 

Where were they taking me? What if they were leaving the island? 

They couldn’t just take me, could they? But, then… How would the crew ever find me again? 

I hadn’t thought this through. 

I closed my eyes tightly. The tears squeezed out, anyway. 

--- 

"Hey, old guy! We caught one of those birds!" Luffy's voice echoes across the now-destroyed scene. Footsteps echo across the land, not yet seeing it, and blindly making their way through the dark. 

The crew stops short, finally seeing the wreck before them; a few of them gape in horror, the others stare in shock. 

Cricket, Masira, and Shoujou were laying in heaps; unresponsive. The ship was in pieces. Cricket's home was in ruins, ransacked and empty; scattered all over the grass as if it had exploded. 

Luffy raced over to the old man, whose eyes were cinched over closed eyes, bleeding and in pain. His tanned knees were stained with the bloody-mud around the dilapidated figure.

"Pops, what happened?" He hunched over the man's form. Cricket still didn't respond. 

"Masira!" Usopp called, and again there was nothing. 

"Shoujou!" Sanji found him lying face-up in the ocean, but the monkey didn’t utter a word. 

"What the... What happened here?" Nami whispered, baffled. 

"I've got a better question, who did this?" voiced Sanji as he was dragging Shoujou's body through the water.

"Wait," Robin started, and for the first time, the crew could hear alarm in her usually unchanged voice:

"Where's (Y/n)?" 

Nobody said a word. All of them looked at Robin in dread, realizing the weight of her words. 

Immediately, everyone began to search every nook and cranny, high and low; Usopp, Nami and Chopper were calling your name, Zoro and Luffy scoured the house and its remains, Robin searched in the surrounding forest, and Sanji even dove back into the ocean in case you might've fallen in... but, you were gone.

Once they reconvened, Zoro looked uncharacteristically beside himself. 

"We checked the house... she wasn't there. Cricket's gold isn't, either." His jaw was clenched with guilt. 

"Where... Where could she have..." Nami choked out tearfully, Chopper looking just about ready to cry as well. 

"Sorry... kid." Cricket rasped from the ground, and the reindeer was at his side in an instant. The man was looking at Luffy. 

"I... I'm truly sorry, kid," He gasped before trying to sit up, despite Chopper's fussing, "We did everything we could to stop them... but it wasn't enough." 

"What happened?" Luffy, who hadn't said anything during the search for his soulmate, asks in a dull tone. 

It's the same dull tone that the crew doesn't hear him use very often; it was like a switch must’ve gone off. 

"She's... She's gone. They took her." 

Nami covered her mouth to stop any noise from coming out, while Usopp and Chopper sniffled. Zoro turned and walked silently back towards Cricket's home. 

Luffy was quiet. Too quiet. He stood stock still and stared at Cricket with a look he couldn't decipher. Not one that blamed him for what happened, no. But it was a look that made his hair stand on edge, despite his seasoned age. 

It was a serious look; a dangerous one. 

"Hey, Luffy..." Zoro beckoned, and the boy turned slowly. 

Scrawled on the boards, the ones that served as a false-overlay to Crickets home, was the familiar mark of a jolly-roger: A smiling face with a slash in the middle. 

Nami recognized it, too. 

"That's Bellamy's..." She trails off with a gasp, before her face morphs into a snarl and she wipes her tears away aggressively.

"I told you, didn't I?" She seethed at the two men, "I told you, you should've beat those guys to a pulp and been done with it!" 

For the first time in a while, Luffy was angry; but there was no expression on his face to show it. 

He turned to look at Robin, ignoring Nami’s rage. Though, Robin couldn't see his eyes beneath the rim of his hat, brimmed with shadow. 

"If I follow the coast, will that take me all the way back to Mocktown?" He asked in a hushed, grave voice. 

"Yes, I believe it will." She confirmed, and that's all he needed to hear before he turned in the same direction. 

"We only have three hours," Sanji urged, "You better hurry and go get your soulmate, before it’s too late." 

Luffy said nothing, but they could all hear the bones in his hands popping as he sprinted away. 

---

It's been hours, and there was still no sign of anyone. 

I was starting to lose hope, forced into being cooped up with the drunken barbarians who had just beaten the tar out of my friends. And there wasn’t an escape in sight. We only had so much time before the crew would have to leave to catch the knock up stream in order to make it to sky island... Would they leave me here? Like they did when they went hunting for the South bird? 

No. Luffy would never. He might not pay much attention to me, but we were still soulmates. He wouldn't just leave me, and if not him, then Nami definitely wouldn’t... 

Right?

"Those apes were hilarious!" Giggled Sarquiss from beside me, "All bloody, with tears and snot running down their faces!" 

He flung an arm over my shoulder, leaning in close where I could smell the alcohol on his breath. Gagging, I squirmed away and out from under his arm, but bumped into another one of Bellamy's crew in the process. He grunted, irritated, before shoving me back to Sarquiss. 

My lungs clenched desperately in my chest for air, shrinking in my seat as if it would make me invisible. It was way too crowded, surrounded by a bunch of rugged thieves and murderers, I had learned from their stories. 

At least I was still on the same island.

My hands shook beneath the table. 

"Oh, come on babe," He went to do it again, and I dodged, "Wasn't that the funniest thing you've ever seen?" 

A chorus of agreements and whistling popped up around the table, all of them directed at me and attempting to coax me into a conversation, eyes shining in a hungry way that made my skin crawl. 

I couldn’t believe that they were laughing at the fact that they had probably beaten my friends to death; and now they wanted me to join in on the ‘fun.’ 

Another man went to grab at my waist, and I shimmied away; finally having enough and standing up, despite the glare I received from Sarquiss. 

"G-Get off of me!” I yelped apprehensively.

“I already told you, I have a soulmate!" I tried to put my foot down time-and-time again with this same statement, but none of them would bother to listen. 

"Yeah, okay, babe. Heard it so many times before," The drunken random from the crew tugged me back down, gripping hard at the soulmate mark as I winced. 

"And this is your ‘mark.’ Yeah, right-- Huh?" He was bewildered to have actually seen the mark on my arm for the first time that night, since nobody other than him had bothered to check if I was telling the truth. I honestly doubted that they would care, either way. 

"You're soulmates with that Luffy kid?" I yanked my arm back to myself, clutching at the mark like it was my anchor in this troubling situation.

"Yes, I am.” I tried to retaliate confidently, despite the waiver in my voice, “So leave me alone already, you--" 

"Bad news!" A man with a tall hat and scruffy face came barging into the room, effectively silencing everyone in the vicinity. Even the music stopped.

"This better be good..." Somebody from the table closest to me muttered. 

"Those guys-- The ones that were here this afternoon, they--" He slurred, before finding the person in the room that he was looking for, then gasping. 

"Bellamy! What are you still doin' here?! You... You've gotta' get outta' here, you're in terrible danger!" 

"What are you talking about? How am I in danger?" Bellamy scoffed with a frown, the veins in his forehead popping out of aggravation. 

"That-- That kid, from earlier, he's--" He groaned, seemingly unable to form the proper words, before decidedly fishing out a piece of paper and unfurling it to show the room. 

It was a wanted poster with Luffy's smiling face plastered on it; as well as Zoro's. As soon as he showed them, a few of the crewmates stopped muttering, and a few more dropped their tankards to the floor; some of which shattered. 

Everyone in the room seemed stun-locked. 

I didn't understand what was so important about it; after all, I knew that Luffy had a bounty, but it was only thirty million. The crew had told me a while back that it wasn't a very high amount for a well-known pirate, so what was their deal all of a sudden? 

"One hundred million?" Somebody whispered. 

"Sixty million?" Others added. 

Oh. I guess I missed the fact that their bounties had been raised. 

"Those two together are worth one-hundred-and-sixty-million! Their bounties are higher than yours, Bellamy. Do you know what that means?" He gasped, out of air and gaping like a fish. 

"You're dead meat!" 

So, it was a big number; And a deserving one, since Luffy had defeated one of the Seven Warlords of the Sea. He was, I assumed, a strong pirate.  

But, still… After seeing Bellamy completely dismantle the ship and knock-out the trio, I was nervous. Even if Luffy had that high of a bounty now, would he be able to defeat Bellamy? How high was Bellamy’s bounty?

Now I was wondering if I even wanted him to rescue me; Not if it meant he was going to be hurt in the process. I didn’t want to see him lying on the ground like Cricket was. 

This was all becoming very overwhelming very fast. 

Bellamy's crew begins to panic, all squandering reasons to leave, shouting at each other in disagreement on whether or not Bellamy could take on Luffy. With their booze forgotten and chairs pushed back, I try my best to move toward the door in the commotion. 

If I could leave on my own, then nobody would have to get hurt. 

"Hey, hey, hey! All it takes to scare you ‘big tough guys’ are some little scraps of paper!" Bellamy cackles, and everybody shuts up. 

"What, do you all have empty sockets for eyes? You saw that scrawny leader! This is nothing but a sham.” The men looked unconvinced. I kept moving. 

“I'll explain it to you morons. There are pirates like these losers who fake their own wanted posters to make a name for themselves. The fakers win fights without throwing a single punch... Their enemies would take one look at their bogus bounties, turn tail, and run. Just like you sorry excuses are doing right now!" He lifts his hand up, waving it around to exaggerate certain parts of his explanation. 

"B-But, Bellamy, are you sure...?" The same man holding the posters speaks up once again, and Bellamy rolls his eyes in disappointment. 

"Fine. Why don't I show you how weak that brat really is?" He grunts, coming to a stand, before beginning to march over in my direction; I had made it halfway to the door at this point, but now I was frozen. 

"After all," He gives me a maniacal grin, looking down at me with wide eyes as he stops in front of me, and I wonder if he can hear my heart thumping in my chest;

"We have his soulmate right here, don't we?" 

His hand comes up and latches itself to the hair on my scalp, before continuing on his way to the saloon doors. 

My scalp is on fire as he wrenches me along, and I let out a cry. Then, using the same hand, he jerks his arm harshly; throwing me through the doors. 

A few of the crew, still inside, laugh at the sight as I roll down the stairs. Landing roughly on my stomach, I cough against the dusty ground, whining at the feeling of the bruises forming on my skin. 

As I'm pushing myself to my knees, arms wobbling, I hear the doors open behind me. Bellamy's boot-clad feet are stomping ever-closer, and my pulse races.

I whip around to look at him, not wanting to be grabbed or tossed again. Instead, I see the barrel of a gun in my face. 

My blood freezes in my veins. 

Staring down the cylinder, my heartbeat’s in my ears, looking in the face of death. 

My face must’ve gone pale. He sniggers from behind the gun. 

"Let's see what he's going to do if she's in danger, huh?" He taunts, pushing the barrel right to my forehead where I flinch, and clench my eyes in terror. 

The tears come then, fueled by the heightened feeling of the metal pressing harshly, combined with the sound of the pistol being cocked; reverberating through the object and into my skull. They spill down my face, and I bite my lip as it trembles. 

"Awe, you're just as pathetic as that soulmate of yours, aren't you!" He roars with laughter, and I grow stiff from every movement. My eyes peek open, vision blurred, but still able to make out his finger on the trigger. 

"Go on," He nods his head once, once he sees me open my eyes, "Call him."

The sob forces its way out of my throat as I close my eyes again, shaking. 

I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t move. 

"Call him." Bellamy says with less patience, tone tinged with the darkness of a man who had killed once before, and who would do it again; 

"So that we can see what lover-boy will do, yeah?" 

No.

I had only just got here, only just found Luffy; and now I was going to die.

Was this some sort of cruel fate? 

“I’m running out of patience, you brat–” 

"I'm right here." 

My eyes snap open, and the gun is forgotten in an instant, left as a forethought in momentary shock. 

I turn my head to look, and I think I might melt into the boards below when I see him. 

The first thing I notice is his hat; it's hanging from his neck, not on his head like it always is. His hair is whipping wildly in the wind, untamed.

The second thing I notice is the look on his face. He's frowning, brows creased over a determined gaze that doesn't leave mine. It registers; I don’t think I’ve ever seen him look at me like this before. 

He completely ignores the black tendrils that brush over his sight. There's an intensity in the way he's looking at me. Tiny, rapid movements of his pupils tell me he's scanning my own face, searching for something; it seems desperate, concerned. 

It's relieving. It's comforting. 

I bite my lip, not bothering to mask the sob that comes out of my throat as we stare at each other. He had come to save me.

“Luffy–” Bellamy hoists me up by my collar, cutting me off and pushing me into another crew member behind him, who grabs me in response. I hadn’t noticed that the others had begun to make their way outside, now.  

Luffy's stare hardens into a glare when Bellamy is placed in his line of sight, all sense of care gone. 

"Give 'em back," He grunts out, "My soulmate and Pop's gold. I want 'em both." 

"Finally!" Bellamy jeers, crouching into a stance similar to the one I had seen during the fight from earlier, and alarm bells go off. Luffy can’t end up the same. I writhe in the man's grip, and he jostles me to stand still as I whine softly, hiccuping. 

"You want 'em? Come and get 'em, kid!" Despite his words, he moves first. 

"Don't worry, this won't take long," And he pounces, "Spring Sniper!" 

The memory of blood bursting from Crickets lips flashes in my mind, Bellamy's fist connecting with his cheek; and I picture Luffy in his spot. 

The breath leaves my chest in relief as Luffy dodges, jumping up and managing to land on the roof of a house nearby. He stumbles as he does. 

Bellamy doesn't let it slide. 

"You got lucky!" The older of the two grits out, before pursuing the younger a second time. 

The boy dodges narrowly this time, flipping over the siding and gripping at the roof's edge. His arms stretch for a moment, naturally bobbing his body up and down due to his rubber qualities, but he looks okay. 

"Does that kid actually think he has a chance here?" Sarquiss laughs from somewhere next to me. I don't care enough to look at him, eyes locked on my soulmate as he hangs precariously from a rooftop. 

"If nothing else, this should be entertaining. Bellamy always puts on a good show." Another man with blonde hair and glasses states, one of Bellamy’s lackeys. 

"He talked all big, but now he's just running away!" 

The two are at a standstill on top of their respective buildings, now. Luffy effortlessly pulled himself back into a better position, almost like hanging from the building didn't even put a dent in his stamina. In fact, he didn't look tired at all. 

Bellamy shouts something indiscernible at him, looking smug, before shooting toward him a third time. 

He misses once more as Luffy scarcely avoids the attack, but this time he falls. 

Watching how languidly he falls, arms flailing in the air, I wonder if maybe he actually did get hit. My chest constricts, breath caught in my throat.  

"You're nothing but a little boy who still believes in dreams! You disgrace the rest of us by calling yourself a pirate. It's time to stop this foolish dreaming and grow up!" Bellamy is getting more and more frustrated, likely due to Luffy’s evasion. It's listless in his form as he comes to a crouch near the crowd.

Luffy still says nothing, he doesn't make a peep even as he keeps falling. 

Was he knocked out? Was he okay?

"Now, let's end this!" Bellamy roars as he fires himself once more at Luffy, this time hitting his target. 

He nails him, and Luffy lets out a surprised yelp, not expecting the attack in midair. I listen to his uneven scream as he spins his way down to the ground; aimed directly at the crowd in front of the tavern. 

The onlookers flee as he collides with an explosion of dust. 

His scream cuts short, and I can feel the sudden spreading of pain across my back and shoulders. I scan desperately over the rubble with piercing eyes, trying to blink away the tears so I can see better. 

Just barely, beneath the cloud of dust, I can make out the bright-red of his vest. He’s not showing any signs of moving.

"Luffy!" I screech. The man from behind gives a harsh 'shut up,' clasping a hand over my mouth as Bellamy begins another speech. 

"See? There's no escape!" He exclaims from the top of another building. 

"I've eaten a devil fruit, so you don't stand a chance against me!" 

I stop, the topic of devil fruits triggering a realization. I trace back through the entirety of the fight in my mind, just to make sure I wasn’t crazy; but I knew I was right. 

But why?

This whole time, Luffy hadn't bothered to make a move on Bellamy. 

In fact, he had spent the whole time dodging when he otherwise would have been fighting; just like he did with all the marines we ran into. Luffy had his devil fruit too, so why wasn't he using it?

Something was off. 

"Looks like your dreams are at an end." Bellamy smiles wickedly from his lofty position. 

The dust clears, showcasing Luffy's body submerged in a mess of broken-wooden-planks, crumpled and hunched. But, I’m not crying anymore. There’s something weird; whatever the feeling is, it’s assuring me that he’s fine.

Then, as soon as they stop jeering, Luffy begins to move. He pushes to his feet without much of a struggle, and I watch, unblinking, as he barely seems affected. 

There isn't a hint of discomfort in his posture, standing straight and staring dead at Bellamy; unwavering, even as Bellamy mocks him from the tower in the night sky. 

Luffy... wasn't hurt. 

"You don't know when to quit, do you? Fine, have it your way, we're just getting to the good part!" Bellamy bends down at his knees again. But this time, as he releases the tension in his legs, he doesn't stop at one spot. 

He springs from the floor, to the side of a building, to another one, and then back to the floor again. It's not a strict pattern, though. He’s mixing it up, and increasing speed as he does it. 

It's a mesh of high-pitched noise as he bounces from one place to another. Soon, he becomes almost impossible to see. 

If Luffy got hit by that, then he--

"So, you want your soulmate back? You think you're man enough to keep a woman happy, even though you're busy chasing dreams like a child?!" Bellamy shouts. 

"And you want the gold back because the old-man's your friend? Wake up! He's nothing but a decrepit fool who spends all his time chasing after a four-hundred year old lie. But that's probably what you like about him, right?" Luffy's face begins to morph into one of aggravation, the look grows with each of Bellamy's harsh words. I can only watch in trepidation. 

"You like to call yourselves pirates, but you know nothing! There's no 'city of gold,' no island in the sky; just oceans and ships and the men who sail them!" 

"You asked if I know how to throw a punch." The boy with the straw hat finally speaks up, after not saying a word the entire fight. 

He lifts an arm at his side, the muscles tense as he flexes his fingers. Here, in the dim night-light of the tavern reflecting off of his tanned skin, his usually-skinny arms show definition. Faintly, I hear the popping of bones, and I wonder if it's his knuckles cracking. 

Bellamy's crewmates cheer and holler for him to finish the fight, for him to do away with Luffy and 'get it over with.' 

All my fear dissipates. 

Maybe it's the look on his face, or the confidence in his pose; or maybe it's the anger and the resolution I can feel reverberate within me, even though it's not my own...

Whatever it was, I knew he was going to win. 

"So long, Straw Hat!" Bellamy chants, practically a missile that's focused straight at Luffy’s torso.  

Luffy's dark eyes lock-on, his pupils dilate, and the yellow of the lamp light shines in their center; a target of his own. 

With a bellowing cry of anger, Luffy slams his fist directly onto Bellamy's face. 

The sound is like a gun-shot, echoing over Mocktown. 

It's followed shortly after by the creak-and-snap of the wood as Bellamy's body creates a man-sized crater, his legs flailing up behind him.

The blonde captain coughs up blood, a fist imprinted on his cheek, before he lies still. 

Nobody moves. 

The wind brushes softly overhead. 

Luffy had beaten Bellamy. 

He reaches behind him for his hat, knuckles dripping with blood, before placing it on his head. I wondered if it was his blood, or if it was Bellamy’s. 

"H-Hey," Sarquiss stutters, "Quit messing around Bellamy. G-Get up, already." 

The Captain doesn't move. Everyone around begins to murmur, perplexed. 

"S-See!" The drunk from before urges, now panicking even more, "I told you so!" 

Luffy finally turns from glaring at Bellamy's unconscious form, gaze directing every ounce of its fury in my direction; and it’s targeting the man behind me, still holding me captive. 

I can feel his hands tremble and loosen, an iron grip turned to feathers. With a pitiful whimper, he removes his hand from over my lips, and backs away. 

I stand there like a statue, though, not sure what to think. Even as Luffy takes a step toward me, and I hear the majority of Bellamy's crew turn-tail and run, I still don't move. 

There were a lot of things I still didn't know about this place. But I knew some things. I knew about The One Piece, I knew about Devil-fruits, and I knew that Luffy and the crew were strong…

But, to knock out a man in one punch? A punch with enough force to cause a crater in the ground? I never imagined it, not from somebody who was as smiley and happy as he was. Sure, he was a little rough around the edges, but...

Just how strong was Luffy?

Once he's made his way over, he stops, wordless. He’s still frowning.

“Hey.” He finally greets, softly, and I blink at him, puffy eyes feeling stiff after crying. His frown deepens. 

"Did they hurt you?" The question is quiet, a stark contrast from his usual demeanor, always exuberant and excited. It's strangely reassuring, in a way, to see this side of him. 

I shake my head wordlessly, knowing that whatever they might've hurt me with, he was hurt a hundred times worse. He hums, eyes catching the rope burn on my wrists, as well as the fingerprints on my arms. I move to shakily rub at the tender skin. 

"C'mon," He grabs my hand in his, our palms tightly clasped together, like he doesn’t want to let go. 

"I'll have Chopper fix you up when we get back." 

I follow after him on shaky legs as he gently pulls us in the direction of the tavern, going to look for Cricket's gold. My heart is doing backflips in my chest, pleasant shivers running down my spine at the contact; my face is definitely pink, but I’m still sniffling down leftover tears. 

It takes a bit to actually find the sack of gold that's mixed within the mess of booze bottles and food, but when we do, Luffy has helped himself to at least five of the non-empty plates on each of the tables. He's finally looking more like his usual self, grinning in triumph when we finally find what we're looking for. He only lets go of my hand for a moment as he slings the hefty weight over his shoulders, before snatching it up again and moving towards the door. 

"That wasn't too hard to find!" He giggles as we leave the tavern, and turns to look at me, "Let's go back to the ship!" 

"Okay." The word is soft as I nod, and I've found myself able to speak again, glancing at intertwined hands with a buzz in my head.  

The shock must've worn off, but when we pass by the traces of Bellamy’s crew, I still cower and attempt to use Luffy's body as a shield; They're all huddled over his body, still in disbelief. I didn’t want to attract any more of their attention than I already had that night. 

"Hey, you, come back here! We won't be beaten by some pretend pirates!" I flinch at Sarquiss's high-pitched shout, stepping closer to Luffy, who doesn't seem bothered; flicking his eyes over to my own and smiling wider. 

"You hear me, you stupid runt! I'm talking to you!" Luffy continues to march along happily, and I try to look forward and do the same, despite the angry aura emanating from behind us. 

"I'll show you a real punch, where are you going?!" Finally, Luffy stops, and the emotions drop from his face, so I can't tell what he's thinking. 

"Where am I going?" He gruffs, raising the same blood-soaked fist as before.

There's a fleeting moment where I think he's actually going to punch the sore-loser, and Sarquiss thinks the same as he falls over in terror. Then, he points a single finger upwards. 

"The sky." He says simply, and I feel my shoulders slouch in relief. I'd had enough fighting for today. 

“How far is the–” I stumble when Luffy pulls me to his front, suddenly. Before I know what’s happening, he's bent down and looped his arms beneath my back and knees, scooped up in a bridal-carry that makes me feel weightless. 

All the blood in my body rushes to my face as I clutch at his vest with a hand, my head going fuzzy. 

"U-Um, uh-- Luffy, I-I can walk, you don't have to--" I squeak out, and he laughs, adjusting me for a better holding position. 

"It's fine, don't wanna' lose you again anyways," He chuckles, and I look at him in disbelief.

"Why are you so worried? I like holdin' you." I pause, giving him a vacant stare as the words register. His chest bubbles with laughter, cackling at the look on my face. 

I like holdin' you. It echoes in my head like a mantra. 

"Oh. O-Okay." He makes it hard to argue with his fingers grazing over my skin like that; he was surprisingly gentle. 

"Alright, let's go!" He shouts with glee, before racing off toward the coast line. 

"We gotta' get back to the ship soon, or else we won't make it to sky island!" I nod to his delighted words, but he probably can't see me as I wrap my arms around his shoulders for stability; practically being tossed around as we traversed the rugged edge of the forest. 

The sun begins to peak above the ocean as he reaches a full-on sprint. 

---

About twenty minutes pass, before the excited boy begins to ramble about their adventure in the woods while they were trying to catch the bird, since I ‘missed out and he felt bad.’ 

"Me and Chopper were chased by all these weird bugs– and I even caught an Atlas Beetle! I can't wait to get back and add him to my collection." We leap over a few rocks and I hold on tight when he lands in a crouched position with an 'oof,’ before cackling happily, despite nearly dropping me. 

I blink as I notice something flit by in the darkness, still clutching at his collar. 

"Like that one?" I point at the insect as it lands on a nearby tree, and he screeches to a halt, gasping loudly. 

"No way," His eyes shine, "That's a Hercules Beetle! I can't believe you found one, we gotta catch it! Right now!" 

"But, what about the knock-up--"

"Don’t worry, it'll be quick!" 

[quillyfied]

Things I’m noticing on this rewatch, which I’m hoping to take slow and ponder on but we will see how it goes, PART ONE (obviously major Good Omens season 2 spoilers throughout, specifically for S2E1):

- Angel Crowley’s hair is so bright and curly! The shade feels more like his new post-apocalypse ‘do, which I find curious. New hair is obviously still much darker but it’s that more unnatural shade of red that could be very bright indeed under the right lighting.

- Aziraphale trying to soften angel Crowley up for his warning by complimenting the colors of the nebula first. People pleaser already, I see.

- The opening: that bit where they separate. They’re on the wrong sides. Then they move past each other to the right sides. Then they separate backwards to the wrong sides again, and that’s when the bridge between planets behind them breaks apart. Pretty obvious visual representation of where they end the season, but I do have to wonder about the emerging “they swapped again” theory and if this back and forth motion could be pointing to that.

- Initial analysis about Maggie: cute as a button, blonde, runs a shop of antiques not particularly useful or lucrative in the modern world, formal style of writing, accommodating to the people around her (perhaps to excess), vintage aesthetic all the way around: immediate thought is that of course she’s a mirror to Aziraphale the same way Newton Pulsifer is. Let’s see where it goes.

- I COMPLETELY FORGOT ABOUT THIS SPY EXCHANGE ON THE BENCH BEFORE SHAX SHOWS UP. Also why aren’t we talking about Shax more??? She’s a delight! The way she’s absolutely befuddled by how humans outdo her at her own job, the weird strained but sort of mentor/mentoree and also informant relationship she has with Crowley, how she is also probably one of the best dressed in Hell without the smell and blemishes and obvious animal aspect…she’s fascinating and I can’t wrap my head around her. Is she supposed to be a dragon? I could deffo see dragon.

- “What’s the point of it all?” Oh Crowley. So correct.

- His hair matches her dress. Significant that they match??

- Half rations of what???

- The correction of the peas. I weep. Has the air of all the times Neil has probably been corrected about it on tumblr and elsewhere for the bread in the book XD

- There are a lot of Statues of Liberty in Nina’s coffee shop. Why??

- Initial analysis about Nina: cool, collected, blunt, friendly but not familiar, hipster vibes, popular store and business model without being a model business owner, seems like she has it all together but has a pretty big lingering anxiety in the form of a controlling relationship: perfectly fine mirror for Crowley, like Anathema Device. Continuing to see where it goes.

- John Hamm’s befuddled face is the highlight of his performance for me, bc he has such a commanding gregarious menace for playing Gabriel and it’s weird to see it replaced for just…gregarious :P

- I know this is a horrifying moment but can we take a moment to just appreciate the comedy of Aziraphale seeing Gabriel’s whole bare bottom before realizing whose bottom it is? Gosh and the hug. So awkward. (THE JIGGLE)

- John Finnemore also excels at writing idiots. Jimbriel has John’s fingerprints all over it. The conversation is golden.

- This conversation with Michael makes much more sense now tbh but. Want to talk about it in full later, when we have all the information.

- I’ve noticed it since we got promos but: Jimbriel using the angel wing mug and Aziraphale using the blue teacups just…strikes me. Could be because he’s having tea and not cocoa. But still. Hmm. Interesting.

- Aziraphale’s immediate panic over knowing what it’s like to be close to a person. Hmm. Yes. Quite. (And a moment to enjoy Gabriel, even in some pretty extreme amnesia, knowing Aziraphale is safe and will help him. Not so much warm fuzzies over GABRIEL knowing that as it is Aziraphale getting to HEAR that from someone who should by all accounts not feel safe with him at all. Guardian instincts being validated. This won’t backfire.)

- Listen maybe it’s just because I watched the Barbie movie the night before I watched GO2 but all I’m thinking when seeing Jimbriel is that his Kenergy is off the charts. And I know that basically just means he’s at peak himbo performance but Kenergy feels more appropriate right now. More introspections there later, I think.

- Formulating a thought about the box, about how it has very prominent double red arrows and “this way up” on it…and the instructions were on the bottom. Something something Heaven/Hell Gabriel/Beelzebub symbolism?? Foreshadowing for The Final Fifteen Minutes, maybe for season 3 itself????

- “You’re funny. I love you.” UH HEY JIMBRIEL. JIM CAN WE TALK ABOUT THAT. GUYS CAN WE JUST. DISCUSS THE LAYERS OF THAT. Not here, obviously, but at some point.

- The thing about writing an idiot is that they have exactly the wrong intelligence for the situation at hand. It makes them very funny. Even more so when their intelligence actually happens to be helpful.

- THE FLYYYYYYY

- Muriel!

- Oof. Sexy Bentley animations.

- “Now that I’m not reporting to Heaven” INGRAINED BEHAVIORS THAT NEED ADDRESSING, PERHAPS?

- I feel like we don’t talk about “six shots of espresso” enough. I realize it’s been like two days and there’s a lot going on but SIX. SHOTS. OF. ESPRESSO. CROWLEY. It expressly does not calm him down. Oh hey instrumental Bohemian Rhapsody!

- I paused just to fully take in the affronted look on Crowley’s face at “naked man friend” XD

- Crowley downs six shots of espresso in one go and then comes face to face with the exact being of his worst nightmare. No wonder he blows a literal lightning gasket.

- Aziraphale knows about Shax. Interesting.

- Ask him properly? Interesting turn of phrase. And Crowley leaps in immediately between them. Of course he does. Ask him properly meaning be threatening about it this time, I suppose?

- I. AM. DUSTING. ITS YELLOW. HHHHHGK.

- Crowley solution: get rid of the problem, run from it. Get away from it. Aziraphale solution: confront the problem, solve the problem, go charging into the helping of the problem. Hmm. Interesting.

- The whole “our exactlies are not the same exactly” IIIIINTERESTING.

- “I thought we carved it out for OURselves.” “SO DID I.” Y’all I cannot WAIT for the parallel gif sets. This conversation, the bandstand, the sidewalk, and The Final Fifteen Minutes. Phew. Knockout parallels.

- That was a surprisingly petulant lightning strike tbh

- Michael and Uriel sniping at each other. Somehow love it. BUT ALSO. This conversation has so many damn LAYERS now!! Heck!!!

- The floating armchair. Heck yeah.

- The distance between Muriel and the archangels, the way they talk down to her so thoroughly…heck.

- Like how the Resurrectionist matchbox has the skull and crossbones but also the Bible verse on the side. The two halves of the sign, brought together.

- MORE FLIESSSSSS

- Beelzebub’s tactic for trying to get Crowley to help find Gabriel is…interesting. I might have to make a whole separate post to analyze this scene. The matching chairs, the determined way Beelzebub’s pursuit of the hunt isn’t immediately suspicious, the flattery, but most importantly, it’s getting its own bullet point:

- The way Beelzebub shares the bit about Extreme Sanctions and how that is enough to flip Crowley’s Protect Aziraphale switch. He’s on the hook, because now there are actual stakes.

- I wonder, though, at how I didn’t immediately catch that Michael saying “anyone found HELPING him” was said. Anyone caught helping Gabriel. Why would helping an archangel be cause for Extreme Sanctions?? Surely it would be a good thing for anyone, even Aziraphale, to have kept a vulnerable Gabriel safe all this time. I’m chalking it up to first time watching excitement and sleep deprivation but huh. HUH.

- Anyway, back to Beelzebub; they immediately offer a reward to Crowley, a carrot instead of the stick. And Duke of Hell is on the table. Interesting. Weird. And their wording is anyone “involved in the affair.” Very slightly different context. Wouldn’t give away that Heaven is indeed on a manhunt (angel hunt?), but not for the exact reason you would expect.

- I wonder about the temporal implications of being erased from existence. And how this very serious and apparently mythological mode of punishment is coming back in season 3. Hmm. Hmm hmm hmm.

- Also Beelzebub’s “report to me first” I SEE YOU NOW

- Nina and Maggie’s lock-in is…hmm. The “no judgement” about drinking thing strikes me as something someone with a very religious upbringing would say to a friend who drinks. Bit clunky, lot condescending. Interesting way to get to a segue.

- Good old fashioned lover boy better have an amazing comeback next season XD

- LOVE seeing the onscreen effects for the text messages, love the way they’re like crumpled up notes, love the immediate energy that brings to this already suspicious relationship. Sigh.

- I knew “I’m back” had petty marital bickering energy from the trailer but I HAD NO IDEA HOW MUCH.

- Also brief moment of real sadness for how this is a rehash of “angel, I’m sorry, whatever I said, I didn’t mean it. Good? Yes? Get in the car.” Just smoothing over the rough patch so they can move on rather than. Yknow. Talking about it and fixing it.

- Also notice how the apology dance doesn’t actually involve saying “I’m sorry.” It’s more an admission of the other person’s intellectual or moral superiority. Which is. Funny! But also. Sad!

- Jim. Jim you were just outside earlier. Jim please.

- I notice the “little” miracle is done over the portal to heaven. Hmm. I thought at first maybe Jimbriel’s latent archangel abilities were at play but I much prefer the “together Crowley and Aziraphale are super powerful without meaning to be” interpretation, because it makes The Final Fifteen Minutes make SO much more sense.

- The miraculous plume is pink <33333

- The inherent comedy of “nobody will notice a thing!” *BLARING ALARMS* XD reminds me of “he’ll have an enormous hellhound with him! He’ll be easy to spot!” *cut to Dog* from season 1 :P

- Okay, final thoughts on this first rewatch: yeah the foreshadowing and scene-setting is impeccable. Great energy. Loving it! Picking up on so much more tiny hints and clues! Missing God’s narration but it really says a lot, actually, that She isn’t there anymore. No Agnes Nutter book for guidance, no scriptural references to necessitate God’s voice being present…different flavor.

Okay! Might do episode 2 tonight, as well, but I have Things to do first! We will see!

[queerauntie]

November Reads

November was a blast, I quit my toxic job and these books really helped me from falling into depression again. Before that job I had been unemployed since July and it was dark y'all. While we aren't fully out of that hole (summer, summer hurry up!) reading has been such a transformative way to heal from the misery I'd been feeling these past few years. Without further ado, November's novels:

Love Radio by Ebony LaDelle

Rest is Resistance by Tricia Hersey (Founder of The Nap Ministry)

The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue by V.E. Schwab

Odd One Out by Nic Stone

Black Cake by Charmaine Wilkerson

A Darker Shade of Magic by V.E. Schwab

Black Girls Must Be Magic by Jayne Allen

Love Radio was a delight. The characters were so cute and well thought out, and their personalities were fun to see interact together, making them a perfect match! While it's a red flag to me when someone is so persistently pesuing someone, I am willing to call it a Doppler/Dahmer (a himym reference ifkyk) situation and lean in. I'm glad I did because Prince ended up being worth the leap of faith. Talk about someone who genuinely wants to show up for YOU, in any capacity they can. So many people (read men) feel like if they have feelings for a girl, the only way they can have a successful relationship is if it's a romantic and sexual one. FAKE concepts like "the friend zone" are their way of telling us they can't love us in any other capacity, because it's not about us, it's about the claiming of us. Prince loves Danielle and he isn't caught up with those ideas and he sees Danielle for who she is, an amazing young woman who's on her journey and deserving of love. Danielle goes through a gutting experience that she deals with throughout the story, and as she's not initially open to romance, Prince doesn't see that as rejection or a "chase" or "tease". He truly hears her and is happy to meet her where she needs and shows up the way a true friend would, which Dani definitely needs at this point. I loved this story, and even though I saw it at Target, it breaks through the Target Tear, I definitely Loved this book!

Rest Is Resistance by Tricia Hersey is a book I've been highly anticipating! I've been following @TheNapMinistry on twitter for months now, her message is simple. Rest is not something we have to earn, we rest because it is our right. Her work centralizes Black People who've had their rest robbed for centuries, reminding them that rest and dreaming are key to liberation. This message extends to non-Black people as an introduction on how to start breaking down our cultural brainwashing and recognize how our complacency upholds capitalism, white supremacy, and patriarchy. When we prioritize resting over the never-ending machine that is American capitalism, we become a wrench instead of a cog. This book, right next to How We Show Up, go right on my required reading for friends and community. This book will also be read again, every time I need a reminder!

The next book on my list was the first major book I read this year, The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue. While almost all of the books before this were around 6-9 hours, Addie LaRue comes in at 17 hours! It was very intimidating, and I initially was reading the book wrong, I was looking for the rising action to begin and was zooming through the first half thinking it was merely world-building. I was wrong, it was all a part of the journey that Addie herself was on, figuring things out as she went and learning so many important lessons along the way. Once I understood that I needed to be a part of the story with Addie, not a ghost viewing from above, the story took hold of me fiercely and I was completely hypnotized by this world. It was a thrill ride to the end, trying to figure out where it could possibly end, and what solutions could we possibly come to. Another read again to simply be in that world again, and of course, to prep for the hinted-at sequel!

Odd One Out was a book that was recommended by my bestie, this is the book where I started to go "maybe I just don't like male characters..." because there was absolutely nothing Coop could do that I didn't take issue with! The author really had me in the first half because I was ready to fight him for not getting over his crush on a LESBIAN! But bestie told me to give good faith, and I held out hope. Spoiler alert it does not end in a polyamorous ending, I'll rip that bandaid right off for ya cause no one did for me. But the ending was satisfying and I guess if it's vaguely personal, I can't be mad someone got a happy ending!

Black Cake was a haunting and beautiful journey. I've talked about it more here, so please go read that, or better yet, just read Black Cake. It's definitely in my top 10 of the year, it was pulling on the heartstrings, keeping me on the edge, and immensely satisfied by the end. It was a novel I could trust, whether it was a happy or sad ending, you could feel the care and love the writer put into this novel, and it was beautiful to experience this story and I hope it continues to gain lots of attention, it deserves all the flowers!

A Darker Shade of Magic! Wow what an amazing story! This is my best friend's favorite book by their favorite author, so it was LONG overdue that I read this book! By God it was fan-fucking-tastic! It was another Schwab immersive world I couldn't get enough of. I was thrilled that there was an entire trilogy to enjoy, and even more, so that a second trilogy is in the works. I will be talking more about V.E. Schwab as an artist because she is just phenomenal and I am looking forward to reading more of her works this upcoming year!

Black Girls Must Be Magic was somehow better than it's predecessor, how many sequels can say that? But it absolutely felt like catching up with an old friend and I was beyond thrilled for her in this chapter of her life. Healing from the loss of her grandma, Tabi continues to face work struggles and personal problems. But she's been working on rebuilding her support system so she has her besties to confide in and work through those things with, instead of doing it on her own. I am so proud of the growth she's made in this journey, and I can't wait for the third book to come out. I have a few more thoughts about this series here, so enjoy!

I did it, I got through november! Stay tuned, December shall be posted within the next 2 hours!

Yearly Book Count: 23/??

[dnangelic]

isn't he a child easy to tease ? isn't he a beast easy to beat ? blood and bruises ; what could have been an even deeper unhappiness and sudden downer ending of his own is narrowly avoided . monstrous eyes shut away from mercutio's fury in a winced , grimacing instant , as if the so-called assassin and great phantom thief would have simply endured whatever violence that might have been wreaked upon him without first attempt at retaliation . a squeeze of terror at his heart causes helpless beads of tears to bud at the corner of his eyes , while his lips mutter out a soft , stammering apology --- both unfathomable impossibilities for his body's other ruling conscience . the turn of his head nevertheless can't seem to help resisting mercutio's touch , the shy , masking shade of his now-gelid hand torn away from him by yet another gelid hand .

he squints beneath harsh phosphorescent lights and all of their illuminating shames and guilty accusations like this . it burns and stings ; heavies and dampens him , the thin , nocturnal cuts of his pupils cinching even tighter as he frowns , tender heart still pounding and pounding . for the fallen angel trapped amongst the audience , if not lurking beneath the stage , what more was there to do ? mercutio's initial queries are met with nothing but a speechless silence , the niwa's thoughts in a hurrying whirl . applause felt insulting to the other's misfortunes , while any weepy , mourning tears felt pointless , useless , a wasted cast out of his heart . there were parts that felt impossible to reach beyond mere spectacle ; the script might not have been able to be changed . after all , even things like the niwa's own apparent morphing tricks and immutable destiny --- ' i ... n-no ! i wasn't trying to surprise you or anything , i just --- '

... ?

shoulders stiffen and words are cut short as he submits to the other's push . for just an instant , he doesn't know whether or not mercutio's wrath or twinkle-eyed glee felt more terrifying .

--- ?! ' m-mercutio-san !? '

w-what was with this pose ?! this was weird , wasn't it ?! in any other case , he might have been happy to try to express his sincerity a little more ; make promise after promise that he would have gone so far as to endanger himself to keep , ( despite scoldings in the past , reminders that he was only human , while heroic spirits could be endlessly resummoned and replaced , ) but not like this , anything but like this ! his skin raises in goosebumps ; hair stands on end all the more when mercutio takes even his most wretched face into grasp . all to tell their tale , a somber stanza that soon enough , dispels any frantic air and leaves daisuke in a soft , speechless silence , his eyes --- even while sharpened at the edges , still wide and willing to witness .

white , empty , quiet and weightless ... he can't even being to imagine it , his own spaces always impossibly heavy and darker than black .

--- depressing , isn't it ?

' but ... i'm not asking you to change . ' even with another mien , even despite his soft whispers , his tortured sympathies are all too obvious , soft sentiment plain as red stitched into leather-obsidian . ' what you're saying is ... there's nothing for you but to live this way , right ? because otherwise , mercutio-san wouldn't be mercutio-san anymore . he wouldn't have a name or a place ... or a story , even if it's a sad one . ' because that is what mercutio was : a servant born merely of a story , a paper doll ensnared by their cynical , unassailable role , no matter how convincing the illusion of a true human life . cursed by their own conscience while daisuke remained cursed by another , the two of them differed in circumstances , and yet --- just maybe , they were similarly not so different after all . works of art , the blessings of creation , could only ever come from other human beings and human hearts , in the end --- and a story need not remain just a story to its audience .

it's thus that the boy shuts his eyes and grips the other suddenly by their shoulders . cheeks flush and even the dulcet chords of the great phantom thief's voice turns meek and anxious as it attempts strength . ' ... please perform for me ! ' it's all that he could think to ask . ' if i can do something , then i definitely will for you . if i can't , then i'll still be there . i'll be waiting . ' smiling , perhaps , just like this --- an innocent fool trying his awkward , earnest best at comforting . ' ... i'll always be waiting . i want to hear you . i want to see you . so --- ' please come running to me , and your own self .

he does not beg such a thing of the other .

the burst of courage leaves him as swiftly as it had arrived . hands nervously tremble themselves away from their grasp upon mercutio's shoulders , and the man's suggestions of even more tears and bullying . alas , at their last remark , if it was a matter of this or that , ' u-um . sorry . i can't really ... control my transformations ... ' a sheepish scratch at his cheek . ' not even dark can . ' an even more childish , meek glance downwards . ' it's ... difficult . and it kind of hurts . ' forcefully having his body reshaped by the coarse of his blood and rampaging heatbeats --- ' i ... i was supposed to get rid of this curse when i first came here , but i messed up . sorry ... '

   if sadness is shared, then the pain is halved; if we share our joy, then our happiness is doubled. such a statement sounded like what romeo would say ( in fact, when the idea ran through his mind, it took on romeo's voice too curiously enough ), that hearing similarly benign by daisuke, mercutio didn't even flinch. "oh? do i make you that unhappy then, dai?" he questioned, feigning ignorance with a sardonic smile that didn't conceal his enthusiasm towards that ever hopeful gaze. "or do you enjoy the idea of broken promises and sudden downer endings?"

   really, he's only stating the obvious. anyone that's bothered reading the tale would understand. this wasn't some comedy that had a marriage at the ending ( of whatever silly miscommunication would be cleared up, all humor and jests, with it all wrapped up in a neat bow ), this is a tragedy, plain and simple. should he stand here and remind daisuke of this and break his heart, over and over again?

   however, the smirk fell on mercutio's face fell swiftly at the metamorphosis in front of him — of darkness overcoming, wings bursting through flesh painfully, and a very familiar face shyly covered by a hand; if the other hand that gripped onto mercutio hadn't been there, it'd be easier to deny that the same boy was one in the same as that aggravating man that mercutio enjoyed bantering with. but the change would not be met with surprise or shock for very long, instead berserker would fume, outright pissed at what he perceived to be daisuke's loss of control and, nearly about to tear at skin and rip out feathers if that could bring the other back ( an act that his cousin had gone through once before, and everyone learned that day to never keep helios and mercutio in the same room. mercutio had no complaints; it brought his cousin back to him, while escalus groaned to be sent to the medical bay ). mere milliseconds would've changed this to become a brawl, surely, luckily whatever sense he had in his pea-sized berserker brain could notice that this dark was nothing like the boisterous showman that would stand proudly, using his majestic wings to appear taller than mercutio as if to tower over him.

   "...always full of surprises, aren't you?" he said, after a long drawn out pause as his mien went from a dire anger to a sudden calm, chuckling further still as he slapped at the hand that lingered at his wrist and wrenched off the hand that daisuke tried to hide his face away from the truth ( the devil that would be underneath the cherub disguise. but in mercutio's mind, a devil is nothing more than a fallen angel, and weren't they also created from god's image? ). there's an odd glee to mercutio's eyes, leaning forward then not too gracefully pushing the cowering boy over to have him lay on his back, and to make it all the more confusing, made himself comfortable in the crook of daisuke's arm, not giving room for an explanation on what this sudden change in personality came from. "why don't you tell me more about how selfish you are then, dai. as you should be. tell me more about how you won't leave me alone."

   nothing was flawless or perfect. adults that always try to keep that image up were some of the most annoying and blasé he's ever found, hiding away to create this untainted image they had, rather than being honest. but kids were different, they were honest for the most part; so when daisuke wanted to hide away, here mercutio would extract him out of the dark cave he set himself in.

   "then let me tell you a story. about hell, or at least what i would call a personal hell," mercutio replied, leaning further up to take a quivering cheek into his hand, staring up to daisuke's disguised face — there's no fright here, or scorn, besides wanting to see daisuke's own face instead but this would do at least — all at ease. "where there's no one else there but me sitting there. there's nothing else either, but white everywhere. no matter which direction i head in, it's empty. all is quiet, too, no other soul around and i would walk and walk." and it's all too lonely, making himself feel small, he's certain that he would lose all sense of self remaining in a place like that, hell he's certain he's straddling the line by now— "then in the distance a sound that cracks through, calling to me to take my spot, because then the curtain would rise, and the chorus rings out those familiar words: two households both alike in dignity / ( in fair verona, where we lay our scene )..."

   a pregnant pause, then he huffs. "and so it'd repeat. depressing, isn't it? wipe that look off your face, it's only a story. if you say that you can go reach out into a place like that, then by all means, go ahead and try, dai. show me your selfishness."

   at being thanked for such a simple thing—out of all of these things? perhaps he should return to his original plan—mercutio rolled his eyes. "sure, sure, i was this close to throttling you and you thank me. should i bully you more? make you cry, like i end up making rom cry, and see if you're able to last during the lessons? though can you do that with your own face instead of that guy's face? it'd be cuter."

[m11lkbre4d]

A fluffy smut by Denki and dom!Jirou

Ship: Denki x Jirou

Description: Denki has had a crush on Jirou for a long time now and he finally decides to act on it, eventually leading to him being tied to Jirou’s bed by his school tie, begging at her mercy. *It starts as bdsm but turns vanilla later on* 

Warnings: Smut with No Plot, initial BDSM (dom!Jirou, sub!Denki), bondage 

Both Denki and Jirou are 3rd years and are 18!

Word count: 1139

************

Jirou smirked lightly looking at the way the boy under her shivered at her every touch, every word. The boy was none other than Kaminari Denki, the hero in training who currently had both his hands tied to the edge of his crushes bed. He didn’t realise he was holding his breath until he had to gasp for air as Jirou dragged her hand across his bare chest, outlining his lightly defined abs, moving towards his v-line and crotch area. ‘J-Jirou~ please…’ he begged, not sure what he was begging for. ‘Please what?’ Jirou smiled innocently. 

Oh that smile, that was the smile Denki admired from afar for months. Other than the occasional flirting he offered to the girl, which was almost always left unreturned, he kept his distance wishing for the day he would ask her out, not as a joke but seriously. If he told the past Denki that Jirou would be dragging her oh so beautiful hands across his nipples in a few months, looking at his eyes with nothing but lust and desire, the buttons of her UA uniform undone, showing the dark blue bra and- 

‘Jirou~’ he moaned as Jirou lightly grabbed a hold of his neck. ‘I asked a question, didn't I?’ Jirou said, very aware of how cruel she was being but refusing to let him hold any power whatsoever of the situation. ‘P-please touch me Jirou- please please I-i am begging yo- Jirou pleas-’ His desperate whines was cut off when Jirou leaned in to kiss his lips, sliding her tongue into his mouth. His eyes widened slightly, despite the position they were in, this was their first kiss together. This wasn’t how he would imagine their first kiss to be. No matter what he made himself seem like, Denki was a hopeless romantic and always pictured their first kiss to be in a park or the beach, somewhere public enough to keep them on their toes but private enough for the kiss to last a few seconds, but he wasn’t complaining, not at all. He closed his eyes and gave in to her control, mirroring her movements and kissing back passionately, unconsciously humping his hips to the air for some sort of friction, even if the said friction came from the tightness of his school trousers. He felt her smirk a little which filled his stomach with butterflies. Jirou slowly backed away from the boy and admired the mess that was him. His eyes slightly closed, still recovering from the kiss, his cheeks were burning with a vibrant shade of red, his blond hair a complete mess and his mouth parted with a little bit of saliva coming out of it.

 She thought about how pretty he looked at that moment, he wished she could take a picture of him to commit it to her memory forever, she had always found him attractive but there was something about him being under her complete control, begging for any sort of release. All the times where he would jokingly flirt with her where she left him unattended and the one time she responded back that led to him being in this position. She found it hilarious how quickly she was able to make him drop his confident cocky façade and get him to submit so willingly. She started removing his trousers, giving him a kiss on the forehead, causing him to crack a slight smile that made her stomach flip with adoration. After removing his trousers, leaving him only with boxers on, outlining the very obvious bulge. ‘I-its not fair.’ Denki mumbled. ‘What isn’t? Are you okay? We can st-’ Jirou panicked but was cut off by Denki. ‘T-that you’re still dressed.’ Denki smirked and Jirou let out a smile, even in this position he could be his cocky teasing self. The girl slowly removed her white shirt which was already unbuttoned and moved to remove her bra but heard Denki struggling before she could. ‘Can I? I w-want to remove it.’ The girl smiled and moved to untie his arms free from his red school tie. As soon as Denki’s arms were free he quickly grabbed a hold of the back of Jirou’s head, bringing her close to his face. He smiled. ‘I wanted to do this for so long, so please let me.’ ‘S-Sure’ the girl mumbled out, somehow embarrassed to be centimetres away from his face. He sat up and pulled her to his lap, her sitting right on top of his clothed erection. He smiled before holding her face gently with both of his hands and pressing his lips to hers. They could both sense the change in atmosphere, everything seemed more sensual now, more intimate and heartfelt than the previous powerplay and they both seemed satisfied. 

Jirou smiled into the kiss, relaxing her shoulders and letting herself relax in the embrace of Denki. Denki’s hand moved towards Jirou’s shoulders, playing with the straps of her bra. He dragged his calloused fingers to the clasps, removing the piece of fabric and staring in awe. ‘I- i know they’re a little small.’ Jirou chuckled, mainly making the self deprecated joke to cover up how insecure she was about her breast size. The joke only caused Denki to be frustrated. Here’s the girl he was admired from far away for months, making a joke at her own expense, essentially bashing the features he has craved for so long. The countless nights he stroked himself thinking of this scenario right now, the beautiful curves of her body. The lengths he was willing to go to see her breasts, to kiss them- Denki pressed a small kiss to the top of her left boob- to lick them- he moved to the other boob, lightly licking the nipple- to grab them- he took his left hand and gently grabbed her breast, owning a soft moan to be heard from Jirou. After he was satisfied with her moans, he moved away, looking at the girl’s eyes. ‘You’re gorgeous.’ From the way her face lit up, that short sentence was enough to make her feel assured but he continued, he would not allow Jirou of all people to feel self-conscious. ‘They’re exactly as I imagined.’  ‘Imagined huh?’ Jirou asked with a smirk. He nodded. ‘I’ve thought about this exact scenario way too often than a healthy amount.’ He slowly laid Jirou to her back, getting on top of her. ‘I imagined kissing them-’ he pressed a kiss to both of her breasts. ‘-leaving marks on them.’ He started to suck the soft skin on her left boob, earning a soft moan from the girl and leaving a red tint behind that he knew would turn into a much darker shade in a few minutes. He felt a beam of pride on his chest. ‘You’re perfect’

A/N:

lol uhm this was my first time writing smut explicitly hopefully its good?? Feel free to give criticism of any request, i would be more than happy to respond and write similar things. 

Also like I have no idea how to finish a smut someone pls teach me SDKLJA

[managedmischiefs]

north//chapter fifteen

genre: angst

warnings: prison, mentions of solitary confinement, mentions of physical abuse, spoilers for The Good Doctor, spoilers for Lucifer, alcohol, drugging

word count: 7.1k

summary: spencer gets used to life in prison in the worst ways. amelia goes through a rollercoaster of emotions and tries to cope with spencer being out of reach. she tries to stay positive and convince others that she is okay.

i’d like to say once again that having a good understanding of the prison arc is helpful in reading this fic. i don’t explain every single detail (because it’s unnecessary to) and if you’re not familiar w the storyline, it’ll be harder to comprehend.

school is over so i’ll have more time to edit and post!!!! yay!! enjoy the chapter :)

SPENCER

"Is that clear?"

"Yes, yes, it's clear!"

My heart pounds against my chest and that's all I can feel. Absolute fear and absolute helplessness. I can't do anything here. I've accepted that but maybe I've just been lying to myself. How can I ever accept that I can't do anything to protect myself or protect others? I’ve spent my life protecting. I need to protect. I need to. 

The fear and the panic are overwhelming and I'm thrashing around. I can't do anything to stop it. I wish it would stop. The panic is overwhelming. It's consuming. It's eating me alive. It’s too uch. It’s way too much. I need to go and protect. I need to protect.

"Help! Help!"

I jerk awake, drenched in sweat and my hair matted to my forehead. The images of my dead friend are still flashing in my head and as badly as I want to forget, I know I never will. My back and bottom ache from the metal cot I’m on, my limbs stiff in the smaller-than-twin, poor excuse of a mattress.

I twist my body and reach under my pillow, pulling out the journal that my counselor had given me and the pencil, scribbling down my stream of consciousness as quickly as I possibly can. It's barely readable in my chicken scratch writing but who cares enough to read what I have to say anyway? No one. Nobody cares here. Nobody cares about me. I’m nothing.

Getting more and more intense. Got to fall deeper in to beat them. I've lost friends before, but not like this. Not in a box where I have no control. Or do I? Starting to think like them, starting to survive like them. I'm here because I made a choice. What if that means I don't get out alive?

My blood runs cold as I dot the question mark with my trembling hand. I swipe my hand across my dripping forehead and grimace at how wet my hand comes back. I throw my journal onto the floor and lay back down, forcing my eyelids closed.

How could I expect myself to sleep? I'm foolish to think I will. But I keep up the illusion for a while and keep my eyes closed, hoping that sleep will draw me in, but it never does. I just keep replaying the events that plague me every night, and eventually, my eyelids snap open again. The gory images were too much. Then the beautiful, blonde-haired, blue-eyed images became too painful. I scrunch up my eyebrows when I feel a headache forming between them.

My eyes immediately land on the journal, and red hot flames replace my brown orbs. That journal is horrible. It's filled with depressing content and it's falling apart and it's a disgusting brown color. It doesn't have my name in beautiful calligraphy on the front, and perfect drawings of beakers and coffee cups and strawberries and books and records players and decks of cards, and my confessions of love for my girlfriend inside. It doesn't have any of that beauty on the inside. No, this journal contains my deteriorating mind and my disappearing conscience.

Barely having control of my tired muscles, I roll off the bed and land on my hands and knees, holding in my grunts of agony. The cell block is almost silent, aside from the fans blowing around stale, warm air, and I don't intend to piss off anyone by disrupting their sleep. I keep my mouth shut after the initial impact sound. 

I make the bed. I fold the corner of the sheets, so they are absolutely perfect. I fold the blanket and tuck it under the mattress. I smooth my hands over the top of the bed to make it perfect. It has to be perfect. If the bed isn’t perfect, it will get torn apart by the officers. They will rip up my bed and take away my blanket and pillow and humiliate me in front of the whole cell block. I don’t need that to happen again. I experienced that on my first week here and I vowed to never let it happen again. I make the bed and then I make it again, then fix it, then arrange it perfectly one more time. Finally. Perfection. It has to be perfect.

I push my journal against the wall and lay on my back, setting my feet flat against the floor and tucking my hands behind my head. I keep count in my mind as I lift my chin to my knees, ignoring the burn in my abs and the sharp pain in my spine from the concrete I'm rolling my bones against.

Once I've reached my goal number, twenty higher than yesterday’s number, I roll over onto my hands and lift myself up, and start my press ups. I begin a new, higher count in my head as I continuously bring my nose to the concrete, and with each time my biceps flex, the anger flares up. I clench my jaw and my stomach bubbles and my head gets light.

Fuck prison. Fuck it. Fuck the fact that I have to be here. Fuck Frazier and fuck his gang and fuck his shank and fuck the fact that he killed Luis. Fuck this whole situation. This is madness.

I'm becoming them. I am them. I either become them or I die, and I refuse to die in here. I refuse to die without curing Alzheimer's and getting married and having children and spending my life hunting the very people I'm locked in here with. I refuse to die knowing that there's a whole life I could live if I keep fighting. I refuse to break law after law in here like my life doesn't matter in the free world. I refuse to lose the person that I was, even if he's slipping further and further away by the second. Even if every time I try to recall the person I was, the images of my own face get more and more blurry. They’re hard to make out.

And maybe he's already gone and I've already sucked in the traits of the felons around me. Maybe I just refuse to accept who I am now. That's more likely than the lies I feed myself.

I work my muscles until the sun peeks in through the tiny window across from my cell. I'm drenched in sweat, even more than before, and my muscles are aching, but it's easy to forget. And if I can't forget, then it's easy to revel and bask in the intense pain.

The correctional officers bring us to the chow hall and we all collect our disgusting food and eat as quickly as possible. We usually only have three minutes for meals. Three minutes. That's it. It was horrible at first. I had to sit at a table, alone, with my shoulders hunched, shoveling food into my mouth. If you don’t eat at chow, you don’t eat at all. I always used to go back to my cell and curl up in my bed, thinking I was going to throw up. The combination of moldy, rotten food and a three-minute time crunch to eat has horrifying results. But now, three minutes is child's play. Three minutes is eating leisurely. I could eat my entire meal in exactly two minutes and twenty-seven seconds. Three minutes, now, is generous.

After breakfast is visitation and, to no one’s surprise, my name is called. I wonder who's on Garcia's list for today. They haven't managed to stick to a set schedule yet, due to cases and traveling, so I have no way of predicting who I'll see. I’m always left to wander into the visitation room and come up with lies on the spot. 

I stick my hands out and allow Wilkins to slap cuffs on me, but I never meet his eyes. I wouldn't dare to. No amount of crunches or push-ups will ever prepare me to take him. I keep my eyes down and, shamefully, let him push me towards the visitation room.

I scan the little tables for a familiar face and smile the tiniest bit when I see Rossi sitting and waiting for me. He hasn't come to visit me yet, and out of the two people I don't want to visit me at all-- my girlfriend and my mom-- I've been waiting to see him. I resist the urge to push the person in front of me to get as much time with Rossi as possible. I wouldn’t dare risk pushing someone. I don't need a fight to send me to solitary confinement. Huh. Actually, solitary confinement doesn't seem too bad right now. I could get away from all these other inmates who want to hurt me. I could relax in solitary.

I sit down and just give Rossi an expecting look, utterly speechless. I've had so many questions to ask him. I've needed so much advice, but now I have nothing to say. My voice is stuck in my throat. His facial hair is longer. The bags under his eyes are a shade darker. Luckily, he speaks first. "You haven't slept." Okay, not what I wanted or needed him to say.

I just shrug nonchalantly. "It's been a while." What else can I say?

Rossi just nods. What else can he do? "I heard about your friend, Delgado. I'm really sorry, Spence," Again, not what I wanted or needed him to say. I don't want to hear or talk about Luis anymore. I'm tired of dwelling on that. I feel guilty enough. I don't need to see his slit throat every time I close my eyes and then open my eyes and talk about him. I don't need that. When I'm unresponsive to this, Rossi continues. "Is there anyone you can talk to?"

I roll my eyes to the back of my head. If my mother were here, she would warn me that if I do that long enough, my eyes would get stuck there. "We have group therapy once a week. The counselor wants me to keep a journal. So I am, but I don't really think it's helping."

Rossi's furrows his eyebrows. "How come?"

A scoff escapes my lips before I can stop it. "Because no one in here is honest. I mean, not a single person can admit that they're terrified," my cuffs rattle as I move my hands as if to hone in what I'm saying. "If we can't agree on that one basic truth, then it doesn't really matter."

"They could just be numb to it all." That's what Rossi offers up. It could help. It would help if I was in the free world.

"Well," my voice softens and even though I know there are gang members around me and people who want to hurt me, I let my guard down, "I'm not. There's," I drop my head the tiniest bit, "there's a helplessness in here that causes people to do things they'd never consider."

Rossi sighs, and this was what I was scared of. I open up and he has nothing to say to me. He has no world-class wisdom to offer. I'm prepared to do what I did to Garcia and practically ignore him for the rest of the visit, but when he reaches into his jacket, my intrigue beats out my disappointment.

I recognize the calligraphy on the front of the envelope as soon as I see it. It's on the front of every single one of my journals that still lay in my desk drawer. It looks as beautiful as ever in black ink, outlined and accented in a yellow pen. There's a lump in my throat that I try to swallow.

"I had to flash my badge just to get it in here so you better read it. I'm not letting you refuse to read this like you refuse to see her," Rossi moves the letter closer to me, directly in my eyesight.

I swallow the thick lump and slowly raise my cuffed hands to grab the envelope. I carefully, without ripping my cursive name, make a slice in the top with my finger and pull out pieces of paper that I recognize to be paper ripped out of Amelia's journal.

"Did you read this?" I ask Rossi as I place the envelope down.

"It was still sealed, wasn't it?"

I nod and stay silent as I drop my head again. I could cry just at the sight of Amelia's handwriting. She touched this paper. This specific piece of paper. This piece of paper was in her hands, in her apartment, and now it’s in my hands. She sat and put pen to paper and wrote this out for me to read. And with one final breath, I finally bring myself to actually start reading it.

To my love dove,

Hi!! How are you? I'm only okay, but there's something I need to tell you can it can't wait any longer.

I started watching this tv show called The Good Doctor a few weeks ago and I've finished the entire series. Honestly, Spencer, it's so amazing. I think you would love it so much.

I know you don't watch that much tv, unless I'm around, so I'll tell you what it's about. The show is about this resident surgeon named Shaun Murphy who is fighting to get a job at a hospital, but the administration of the hospital won't give him a job because he has autism. But then he saves a child's life in an airport or something (I can't remember exactly, it’s been a while) and does a procedure that is really innovative and outside the box and it floors everyone and the hospital hires him.

The show follows him navigating adult life and relationships and his job and him learning how to be less dependent on older people telling him what to do. He gets a girlfriend and loses his virginity and then starts talking about sex at work which is fucking hilarious but also stupidly inappropriate, and he has a friend who's a girl who his girlfriend has a problem with.

And then (I'm sorry, baby, but spoilers are coming!!)  they kill off one of the main characters at the end of the third season! How dumb! Melendez was one of my favorite characters and he was just about to admit to Claire that he's in love with her and then they killed him off for such a stupid reason. The season ends on a cliffhanger! You know how much I hate cliffhangers. And that plot of Claire and Melendez falling in love was teased at for so long and they gave it to us just to take it right away!!!! Cruel!! Do I have grounds to sue for emotional distress? I think there is. I should get on this.

Okay. I've calmed down now.

Fine. You caught me. I haven't. I'll never calm down from my heartbreak over Dr. Melendez. But I can move on for now.

I think you would really like this show and I'd be willing to watch it again with you. I think you'd enjoy it. They talk a lot about medical terms and medical procedures and there’s diagrams and everything. And whether they're accurate and precise or not, I'm sure you'd enjoy picking out mistakes in the procedures or telling me why the procedures are revolutionary. And no matter which option it is, I'm ready to listen and learn.

Before I watched The Good Doctor, I finished watching Lucifer, but I know that you hated that show. But he went back to Hell!!!!!!!!!!! He really did That!!!!! He left Chloe and went to Hell!!!!!! So fucking rude. I screamed out loud when he said he was leaving. Thankfully, there's going to be a season five and maybe I'll make you watch that with me so we can see what happens with Lucifer and Chloe. I debated on watching Star Trek or Doctor Who because you're always talking about how much you love those shows, but I know I won't understand it. I'll need you to explain it to me. I think I'll just wait to watch those with you. Sounds like a good date night to me.

I love you more than words can even express. I miss you more than I will ever be able to say (or in this case, write). I know you're not doing well and I know you don't want to see me but I hope that hearing from me helps you in some way. I don't know how it would but I hope it does.

I love you. I promise, I'll see you so soon.

With all the love in my tiny body,

from your pretty girl,

Amelia <3

ps. idk if you're shaving your face in there but... I'm curious to see what you look like with a mustache and beard... that's a sight I never thought you'd let me see. Hmm. I shouldn't let my mind wander. Sorry. I love you. Kisses.

I read over her letter once, twice, three times. Every time I read it, I notice something new. Every time I read the letter, I notice a teardrop beside a word, of a subtle smudge of a pen, or another hesitation in her pen stroke.

I read it again. And then I read it again. But then I read it one more time. And just when I think I've had enough, I read it another time. I’m on the tenth read before the wheels actually start turning in my head, slower than usual. This letter has distraction written all over it in Amelia’s pretty writing. I don't like medical dramas and I hated Lucifer. She knows that. She acknowledged that in her letter. But this is the kind of thing she would tell me as we're eating dinner when I get home from a case, or as we're laying in bed, or when we're showering, or when we're sitting on the balcony of one of our apartments. This serves that purpose, except this time, it's in letter form. She's distracting me. God, I would give anything to break out of here and drag her to a courthouse and marry her right now.

"Reid?"

My head snaps up when Rossi speaks, and when I force our eyes to meet, he's holding out a pen. I know for a fact that pens aren't allowed. Pens could be considered a weapon in the hands of the wrong inmate. He snuck this in, and I'm not sure how, but I don't want to know how.

I snatch the pen out of his hand and rip the sides of the envelope so there's more room to write, scribbling down my thoughts as fast as possible. I don't want to get caught. If I do, I can't imagine the trouble I'll get in, especially if Wilkins catches me. When I'm pleased with what I've written, I fold up the envelope and hand that and the pen back to Rossi. But I keep the letter, tucking it into the waistband of my pants so it's completely out of sight.

Rossi smiles, putting the envelope back in his jacket pocket and flattening the lapels. "Is there anything you want me to tell her?"

"Tell her--" I'm cut off by a sharp alarm going off, a guard screaming about a lockdown, and for all the inmates to return to their cells. I sigh, rising to my feet. "It's all there. Just give that to her."

///

AMELIA

///

"Hi, Jeannie," My voice is only a mumble as I greet the receptionist. She gives me a pitiful smile, another new tradition that has only formed in the last few weeks, handing over a visitor's pass and watching as I clip it to the pocket of my jacket.

I drag myself to the elevator and hit the up button, drag myself inside, and when it opens on the sixth floor, I drag myself to Penelope's office. My mood is lower than it has been lately. I didn’t really think it could get any lower. But here I am with a heart heart, hunched shoulders, and the inability to smile. I'm not sure why I feel like this on this specific day, as opposed to any other shitty day, but maybe it's because I know that Penelope went to visit Spencer today. All I know is that I barely wanted to drag myself off of Jenna's couch this morning and get dressed and show up here. I could barely pay attention to the new episode of The Good Doctor that Jenna coaxed me into watching with her last night. I could barely get myself to come through the front doors of the building, but I show up to the BAU every single morning like I work here.

I plug in the code to Penelope's door and push it open, and I’m welcomed to a sight that I didn't think I'd see for a while. Luke is kneeling in front of Penelope, and at first, I think that he's finally confessing his feelings for her. My first intention is to silently back away and let them have their moment. His hands are on her knees and she isn’t insulting him, so nothing about this interaction could be bad, right? But then I notice that she's crying, and my heart drops. I don’t back away. 

My hand slips off the doorknob and it slams shut, making me flinch on impact. The two stare up at me like deer caught in headlights. I see this expression way too much for my liking nowadays. And judging by the sheer fact that there are still tears dripping down Penelope's cheeks, this isn't good. Nothing is ever good anymore.

"What happened?" I don't step closer, I don't grab Penelope's hand, I don't touch Luke's shoulder. My heart is pounding against my chest and my hands are starting to shake.

Luke glances at Penelope before rising to his feet. "Garcia went to see Reid today."

"I know," I snap faster than I intended to. "What happened to him? Is he okay? What--" my voice betrays me and I can't choke out another question.

Luke sucks in a breath, keeping a stony, emotionless face. "He got beat up."

"Beat up?" I regurgitate the disgusting words that have just been spewed at me, backing myself against the wall. "He got--"

Penelope stands up and moves towards me, lacking her normal finesse. "His face had bruises and he seemed agitated but he seemed fine otherwise--"

"He's not fine if he got beat up," My anger, somehow, quickly dissipates and turns to heartache. My heart pounds against my chest at an alarming rate. My eyes flood with tears and my knees start to give out from under me, and I go sliding to the ground, curling into myself. "He's trapped inside with the people who beat him up and there's nothing he can do."

"Listen," Luke kneels in front of me and places a hand on my shoulder, but I can't bring myself to shake it off or even look up at him, "I'm gonna get an extra set of eyes on Reid. He's mentioned something about another inmate that sounds like an ex-FBI agent, and I think I know how I can get him to protect Reid. Amelia, he's gonna be okay. I'm gonna go to the prison right now and figure this all out. You call me if you need anything at all."

Luke stands again and smiles at Penelope, quickly leaving the room. And once he's gone, Penelope takes his place on the floor beside me, sitting with her legs straight out. She's silent, but I'm not sure why. Is she giving me space? Is she waiting for me to speak? Is she figuring out what to say? Is she too scared to say anything? I wouldn't blame her if she was. I'm not the person I was anymore.

I reach into my pocket and pull out Spencer's medallion, passing it between my fingers. "I'm sorry," I whisper, keeping my gaze on the metal circle. "I haven't exactly been a best friend lately, or a friend at all. I've just been a bitch."

"No, you don't need to apologize," Penelope insists, scooting closer to me. "This is a really hard time for you. It's understandable. I don't expect you to want to be listening to my guy problems or wanting to drink wine. I mean, I don't even want to be doing either of those things. It seems too...cheerful for right now."

My lips quiver and I try to hold back my tears, but no matter how hard I squeeze the medallion, my tears won’t retreat and my pain doesn’t disappear. "I just really miss him, and I'm really worried about him."

"We all are," Penelope sighs, patting my leg. "But we're working as hard as we can to get him out."

"I know you are," I flip the medallion over and stare down at the compass. "I just hope he comes home soon because I don't know how much longer I'll last without him."

///

The snapping of my pencil against paper shakes me back to reality, and my head pops up. I find that I've been jamming my pencil into my sketchbook, creating a hole in the paper that has effectively ruined my drawing and maybe even ruined my entire sketchbook.

A groan leaves my lips and I drop my sketchbook to the floor, my pencil following. I shouldn't be upset. Whatever it was I was drawing was horrible anyway. I haven't drawn anything good since Spencer got arrested. My art revolves around joy and happiness and the good things in my life and if I don't have any of that, how am I expected to make art?

"Hey," Jenna comes and sits beside me, placing a cup of tea on the coffee table. I don't touch it. She never makes it as good as Spencer. She picks up the sketchbook and lets out a sigh. "It's a shame there's a hole in it now. I liked what you were drawing."

"It was bad," I respond, letting my head fall onto her shoulder. "Nothing in there was any good."

"I disagree," Jenna drops the book and slings her arm around my shoulder, drawing me into her embrace. She’s not nearly as warm as Spencer. "Sometimes, our best work comes from dark places. You know, like comedians. A lot of comedians have depression and--"

"Jen, I appreciate it but I'm not in the mood for this," I murmur, eyelids feeling heavy. I rest my head on her lap and stare up at her, resisting the urge to purr as she starts to brush her fingers through my hair, but it's nothing like the way Spencer does it. Spencer, somehow, doesn't let his fingers get caught in my curls and he doesn't tug on knots. His hands are big and veiny and strong and not dainty and tiny like Jenna's.

"I'm sorry," Jenna apologizes with a heavy sigh.

"No, I'm sorry," I catch her hand in mine and intertwine our fingers, squeezing tightly. "I've been horrible lately. I've just-- what I'm going through with Spencer is no reason to be acting like a bad friend to you. You've been so generous and so helpful and so--"

"Hey, listen," Jenna cuts me off with her sweet smile, "when everything with Spencer is resolved and he's settled at home with his mom and with you, then you can take me out and throw me a Jenna appreciation party. But for right now, don't worry about me. Just worry about you and staying healthy and trying to stay happy, and focus your energy on your happy memories with Spencer."

"You're the best, have I ever told you that?"

"Hey!" Jenna exclaims. "Save it for the appreciation party."

I smile back up at my best friend, nodding slowly. "Okay, yeah, I can do that. Once I get my shit together, I'll throw you an amazing party."

"And I look forward to it," Jenna quips, and then looks at the time. "Okay, I've gotta get to a meeting but you're welcome to stay here if you want. My apartment is all yours."

"No, I think I'm gonna go home for a bit. Probably shower and then get to the BAU with fresh clothes. I feel all," I sit up, brushing my fingers over my cheeks and grimacing, "greasy and oily."

Jenna returns my ruined sketchbook and ushers me out the door, watching me get into my car to make sure I get there safely. I wave goodbye to her before driving off, not even bothering to turn on the radio. I never do anymore.

Trudging up to my door, I unlock it and toss my keys aside, throwing my bag down on the floor and kneeling down to take off my shoes. I pull out my hair tie and drop it to the floor, then leave a trail of clothes to the kitchen. First my denim jacket, then my socks, then my crop top. I'm left in my bra and sweatpants in the middle of the kitchen, reaching into the fridge for something to eat. It’s nearly empty. Of course it is. I haven’t had the energy to go shopping lately. 

I reach my hand out but I pause and scrunch up my nose at a strong scent. Why does it smell like bubblegum in here? Again. I don’t even like the scent or taste of bubblegum, and I obviously didn’t buy any gum recently. I roll my eyes, wandering over to the window to open it further and let out the smell. I breathe in a bit of the fresh air and sigh, stepping away and going back to my original plan of getting something to eat. Maybe the older woman next door has a bubblegum candle that she likes to light whenever I’m home. 

But the smell is persistent and it's filling my lungs and my brain and my tongue. I start to walk towards the window again but my feet don't let me. It's like there's someone telling me not to go and breath in the fresh air outside, and so, I don't. I stand in the middle of my kitchen like a floundering fish, gripping the island with white knuckles. My head feels fuzzy. My eyes feel like they should be rolling into my skull. It’s that familiar feeling of not having control over myself. That sickly familiar feeling of someone standing right behind me, whispering in my ear and telling me what to do. 

But then I feel the urge to shut the window completely, so I do. I rush over and slam it closed with so much force that I think I might break the glass. But I'm confused. I'm so confused. The bubblegum smell is nauseating so why am I closing the window? What is telling me to close the window? Who is telling me to close the window?

I feel my feet walking over to the couch and I lay down. My eyelids feel heavy and I don't stop myself when I feel an intense need to lay down and close my eyes, to rest. I curl up and drift off comfortably, into the best sleep I've gotten since I had the privilege of sleeping in a bed with Spencer.

When I finally wake again, my head is pounding. I whine out loud, curling my knees into my chest and tossing my arm over my eyes, trying to block out the lights above me. But nothing works so I roll off the couch, falling onto my knees in a pathetic heap. I lift my head, finding an empty bottle of white wine on the coffee table. I furrow my eyebrows in confusion. I didn’t drink wine today. The bottle is empty but I didn’t drink. I mean, I feel hungover but I know I didn’t drink. The smell of bubblegum is gone. 

I reach around for my phone, but after groping the couch and the coffee table, I come up empty. I conclude that I've left it in my backpack which I dropped beside the door. I grind my teeth as my muscles pop when I stand and walk over to the foyer, rubbing my eyes and letting out a dramatically loud yawn. When I get to the foyer, I find that my backpack is nowhere in sight. That's odd. I could have sworn that I left it here when I got home from Jenna's apartment, but I guess in my blackout, I moved it.

I turn on my heel to head back to the kitchen, and the first thing I notice is that it's not morning anymore. It's dark out. My head whips towards the clock and I find that it's almost midnight. I must have gotten drunk. I must have finished that whole bottle myself and the alcohol made me forget. I drank the entire day away, somehow. That's not like me. That's never happened before. I drink wine all the time, I know I can hold my wine. How did one single bottle of wine do this to me?

Shaking my head at myself and pushing away my pathetic tears, I move on to my kitchen. Surely enough, the contents of my backpack are strewn across the island and my phone is right there. What I need it for? I'm not sure. But despite the fact that I've just woken up, I'm exhausted. So with my phone in my hand, half dressed, belly button ring falling out, hair tangled, head pounding, and my brain swirling, I drag myself up the stairs and collapse into bed.

The sheets smell like him. They always do. They always will. The pillow he claimed as his own will always be stained with the scent of his cologne, and no matter the amount of times I wash it, it was always smell like him. I roll over and hug his pillow to my chest, and this time, I don't stop the dam from breaking. I let the tears flow down my cheeks relentlessly and I let the sobs rack my body and I let myself succumb to the depression I've barely been fighting off.

But I don't let my mind succumb too much, not to the bad thoughts that are hounding me. I stumble off the bed and into my bedside table, pulling out my journal and holding it in my lap. My pen moves faster than my mind does and before I know it, I'm signing my name at the end. I don't even proofread it. I don't check for spelling or grammar errors or try to dry the tear stains or fix any pen smudges. I just rip out the pages, fold them up, put on some clothes, and jump in my car. 

The doors the the sixth floor open as I fiddle with my visitors pass on my hip. I see Stephen first and he smiles at me, stepping out of the way and gesturing me for me to go past. I thank him softly and go tiptoeing by, pulling open the bullpen door and stepping in. JJ and Tara are talking with Anderson and Kevin by the coffee machine and I send them a wave, but I don't go over to talk. I haven't been in the mood for small talk lately. And besides, it’s midnight. Everyone is here incredibly late to work and small talk would distract them from their obvious mountain of work. They don’t need the extra worry of me showing up hungover and confused. I keep my head down to avoid everyone. 

I pass Emily and get to Dave's door, knocking much softer than I have in the past. He calls for me to enter, and when I do, I give him one of the fake smiles I've become so accustomed to lately. "Hi," I state gently.

"Hi," he gestures for me to sit, and when I do, he closes to door. "Are you okay?"

"I am," I nod quickly, probably way too quickly, and bring my backpack into my lap, digging through the contents. "I saw that--"

"Are you drunk?" He interrupts me, narrowing his eyes at me as he takes a seat again.

I fiend surprise, shaking my head. "No! Of course not! Why would you--"

"Your eyes are bloodshot and you're not speaking properly, you're slurring your words," Dave points out bluntly.

I don't move my gaze from his as my hands finally land on what I was searching for, and I pull it out, holding it to him. "I saw on Garcia's board that you're the next to visit Spencer. Could you bring that to him? It's just a letter."

Dave takes the envelope from my hand and admires the calligraphy on the front, the same I always use to label Spencer's sketchbooks. He nods and tucks it into his jacket pocket. "I'll bring it. The prison checks everything and--"

"If they confiscate it, I don't wanna know," I tell him, standing and putting my backpack on again, heading towards his office door. "Just-- everything I have to say is in that letter. I've gotten it out and even if he doesn't get to read it," I shrug my shoulders up to my ears and laugh pitifully, "whatever. I just hope he's safe now."

I go home. I leave with my head down and tears in my eyes. Dave is going to think I’m a crazy drunk who can’t control herself. The reality is, I don’t even know what happened today. I’m just confused and sad. I’m missing Spencer, I hate the smell of bubblegum, and I can’t do my job anymore. Everything is fucking horrible. Everything has gone to shit.

Like clockwork, I bring myself to the BAU the next morning. Freshly showered and in presentable clothes, looking better than I have in months. An obvious overcompensation for what Dave said to me yesterday. I need to show him somehow that I’m okay. Well, I’m not okay but I don’t need anyone worrying about me. I should have practiced my fake smile in the elevator.

"Hey, you," Penelope smiles softly as I walk into her lair, dropping my backpack on the empty desk. "Feeling okay?"

"Meh," I shrug, sitting down in a free chair and drawing my knees to my chest. "I'm trying to keep my spirits up. It's hard, you know? It keeps getting longer and longer since I've seen him and the longer it gets, the harder it gets. I’m trying to keep it together. It’s hard, P."

"I think I may be able to help with that," Dave's voice at the door makes the both of us jump. Neither of us had even realized he had come in right behind me. But I jump to my feet and smooth down my skirt, adjusting my nose ring so it’s perfect and brushing my straightened hair behind my ears.

"Help with that?" Penelope repeats, glancing between us. "Help with that how?"

Dave reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out the envelope for the letter I'd written for Spencer, and my heart drops to my feet. Why was I thinking? What made me think he would be able to bring my letter in? He's in a maximum-security prison. Spencer can barely take a shower without prison guard eyes on him. He's not going to be able to get a letter from a visitor without it being checked and rejected first.

"I told you I didn't wanna know if he could see it," I whisper, looking down at my lap and hating the way my eyes instantly burn with tears. I’ve cried too much lately. "You should've just thrown it out. I don't want it back, just--"

He drops the envelope onto my lap to shut me up, but now, it's unfolded and there's writing on the inside. My body jerks ungracefully when I recognize Spencer's handwriting and I snatch it up to read what he's written for me.

To my pretty girl,

The Good Doctor sounds like a great show, and even though you've basically spoiled the whole show for me, I'd love to rewatch it with you. Medical dramas tend to be incorrect with their facts so I'd like to see how much of the show is accurate. And no, I will not watch Lucifer with you. But I will absolutely watch Star Trek and Doctor Who with you. It would be my pleasure to explain them to you.

I think of you every single day. You are the reason I'm pushing through and you are the reason I'm still alive. You are the reason I get out of bed and you are the reason I'm sane at all. You're still my north. Don't forget that. I’m going to come home to you.

Like you said, words cannot describe how intensely and how badly I miss you. Things are hard right now but I promise that I'll see you soon and I promise that everything will be okay.

Listen to some Brahms or Mozart for me. I love you so much.

With all the love I have left to give,

Your Dove

ps. There are no razors here and I haven't shaved in months. Enjoy.

pps. Thank you for distracting me. It worked wonders. You're truly amazing.

I read his letter over and over and over. I examine every single word on the page and I barely even notice when my tears start to fall on the paper. His writing is messy, it always has been, but it's so beautiful. Maybe I think it's so extraordinarily beautiful because I know he touched this piece of paper and now I'm touching it. It's from his heart. It's from him. It's from my Spencer.

"Penny," I whimper out, and she is at my side in a second, placing her hand on my shoulder. "He—” I sniffle and hiccup, “he promised."

"He promised?" She echoes, her voice sounding hopeful but like she's talking to a child. "What did he promise?"

"He promised that everything is gonna be okay," I clutch the paper in my hand, admiring its beauty and counting the strokes that Spencer made with the pen. "And he told me again that I'm his north and-- that's good, right? He's still there, you know, mentally."

Penelope nods at me, reaching down to wipe my tears. "Yeah, Amelia, that's really good that he said those things."

I drop the letter to the floor and throw my arms around Dave, crying into his shoulder. "Thank you so much. Thank you for doing this for me."

He hugs me back tightly. "Anything to see you and the kid happy. Anything for you two."

TAGLIST

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[harringroveficlibrary]

soulmate fic recs? been in strong mood for those and having a hard time finding some :) thanks!!!

sure thing :^) (under the cut because it got a bit long) -cade 

Blood and Pain by Carerra_os (1/1 | 1,583 | Teen+)

Billy and Steve are soulmates, they don't find that out till they fight.

-

It kind of feels like being punched in the gut, seeing Nancy’s neat scrawl on the inside of Jonathan's arm, the exact same scrawl Steve saw on her bare arm just a few moments ago. Jonathan and Nancy both look guilty, at least, but it does not make it any easier. Steve thought she was safe, thought she was like him, that she did not have a soulmate, and it hurts, finding out different. Steve has always been good at ignoring though, at pushing down his own feelings and putting on a good face for others, and now is no different.

warnings: blood & injury, canon typical violence

Origin of Love by TaytheBae (1/1 | 4,168 | Teen+)

Billy Hargrove was an asshole. But it wasn’t his attitude that stopped Steve dead in his tracks during basketball practice two days after Billy’s arrival to Hawkins. They were playing shirts and skins, and without a care in the world, Billy ripped off his shirt. Along with revealing miles of tanned skin and firm muscles, Steve saw a faded red mark right above Billy’s navel that seemed to resemble the sun. While it wouldn’t seem unusual to anyone else, Steve couldn’t take his eyes away from the little red splotch. -

Steve never knew what the red sun-shaped mark right above his bellybutton was for. Not until he met Billy Hargrove.

Lips to Lips, Scars to Scars by lostnoise (1/1 | 7,491 | Mature)

From the soulmates prompt, #15: the one where every lie your soulmate tells you appears on your skin.

His parents have to sit him down and tell him what it means - not the words themselves, but what it means that they showed up at all on his skin. That there’s someone out there waiting for him. That he should pay attention to what kind of person his soulmate is.

Because only their lies will show up on his arm.

warnings: implied/referenced child abuse, temporary character death, period typical homophobia

Tall Tales and Fairy Rings by lostnoise (1/1 | 1,394 | General)

The Harrington Estate sits upon the edge of Hawkins Forest, acres and acres of wooded land. Steven, heir to Lord Harrington, is sixteen when he starts exploring the lands of his father and forefathers.

Growing up, he’s hears all the stories about the types of creatures, things, that live in the forest. He’s heard of kelpies living in streams and wayward ponds; he’s heard of trolls who stalk through the forest looking for their next meal; he’s even heard of werewolves, men who change at will, men who must change under the full moon, taking residence up in their forests.

Of all the creatures and tales Steven has been told, the very last he expects to find, at the base of the thickest tree at the very heart of the forest, is a fairy ring.

my baby lives in shades of blue by psychdelia (1/1 | 1,250 | Teen+)

Before blue, Steve's life was dull. Lifeless.

The Secret Voice of Hidden Love by Yikes_Writes (11/11 | 22,328 | Mature)

Steve's soulmate was good with words. Billy's soulmate was a beautiful artist.

-

In other words, a soulmate au where whatever is drawn on one soulmate, appears on the other. Plenty of mutual pining and the Steve & Barb friendship for the ages.

warnings: implied/referenced child abuse, underage drinking, & drug use

talk to me by lesbianferrissbueller (1/1 | 2,904 | Teen+)

/“On your 18th birthday, on your wrist will appear the first words your soulmate will ever say to you.”/

And they always say it like that: “will ever say.” Not has said. Because it’s practically unheard of that you would have met your soulmate- your literal twin flame or whatever- before that. Which is why, Steve is staring at the words on his wrist in absolute shock because either he’s heard this a million times or he’s heard it very specifically once and he doesn’t know which one it is.

/“Harrington, right?”/

Lit up like a match by nagdabbit (1/1 | 4,043 | General)

And then in swooped Lillian fucking Hargrove. Lillian with sun lightened curls and miles and miles of tanned skin. Lilly with a fight in her belly and a fire in her eyes. Billy with a mean right hook and permanent bruises that Steve was too late to identify. Billy who didn't seem to know soft or sweet or kind. Who didn't seem to know what to do with Steve, so she settled for hating him instead.

On a Friday night, in a Chicago dive, Steve meets a familiar face.

Keep me in your glow by nagdabbit (1/1 | 1,770 | General)

He was a face in a crowd, and usually he could remember that. Usually he could find comfort in that. That there was a whole world spinning on, and it didn’t revolve around him.

But some days, someone would go out of their way to let Billy know just what they thought of him. A stranger with a cruel, twisted face would come right up and spit insults and curses at him that left his hands shaking and eyes burning with a fear that he’d thought he’d left back in Hawkins

Sometimes people are dicks, and Steve makes it better by rambling.

Bruises by I_Will_Die_With_This_Ship (1/1 | 1,213 | Not Rated)

On their fifth birthday, a person would get something on them to indicate who their soulmate was. Be it a symbol, a name, an initial, or in Steve's case, a bruise.

warnings: creator chose not to use archive warnings, self harm

and they lived happily ever after by pratintraining (10/10 | 14,526 | Teen+)

Ever After Inc. was a small family-owned business that dealt in organizing and facilitating fairy tale Happily Ever Afters for their clients. Owned by the Harringtons, they've built a reputation for themselves over the years in using the tiny bit of magic they have to look at a person and put them in just the right place at the right time to make good things happen for them. Their most famous service was being able to unite soulmates. As their tagline said, "It's not chance, and it's not just fate. It's Ever After." (And then came the harp that started their trademark jingle.)

Steve gets hired to find a soulmate for Princess Nancy. He tries his best, and everything works out. Rated T for some swears.

let lips do what hands do by halfofmysoul (1/1 | 7,284 | General)

In a world where soulmates are rare and cause you to see in color, Billy and Steve collide on Venice Beach when they're nine years old.

warnings: graphic depictions of violence, domestic violence, homophobic language

We've All Got Bruises by deansangel_cas97 (1/1 | 2,296 | Not Rated)

Steve doesn't remember the first bruises. All he remembers is that one day he was fine, and then the next morning a bright purple and yellow bruise was blossoming on his chest and a small round one on his cheek.

warnings: creator chose not to use archive warnings (and judging by the summary id recommend proceeding w/caution if you’re easily triggered)

Open Book by tracy7307 (1/1 | 2,559 | Explicit)

When Steve was fifteen, he received a parchment, just like every fifteen-year-old did. It was about the size of a half a sheet of notebook paper, and he knew that if he pressed an inky thumbprint to it, it would reveal one simple word that would be associated heavily with his soulmate -- sometimes it was a name, sometimes an eye color, sometimes an important object to that person, or the first word they’d say to you. Sometimes there was no word at all, for those who were meant to be happiest with no romantic partner.

“Here goes nothin,” he said, and pressed his inked thumb to the parchment. His stomach swooped low and nervous as he waited for the word to form, terrified for several seconds that it might actually remain blank, but then a word appeared in faint ink and grew darker, eventually turned vivid and black in front of him.

CAMARO

If it Keeps on Rainin', Levee's Goin' to Break by shocked_into_shame (1/1 | 10,255 | Explicit)

In a world where soulmates only know they are soulmates until they kiss and the bond is sealed, Steve is afraid that he's never going to meet his missing piece.

And there's no way in hell that Billy - who makes Steve's blood boil day in and day out - could possibly be that missing piece.

No way.

[a soulmate AU]

i wanna be (the place you call home) by wickedlittleoz (1/1 | 2,213 | Mature)

But there were a lot of Steves in this world and Billy hardly thought he’d meet his soulmate in a shitty hole like Hawkins.

warnings: creator chose not to use archive warnings, implied/referenced suicide

My Heart Knew by LadyFrandrews (14/14 | 29,766 | Mature)

He knows his reputation isn't the best, but he's never messed around when it comes to his heart.

Before she died, his Ma spoke to him all the time about what having a soulmate meant. But he's seen what happens when your soulmate dies and he doesn't want his. Not if it means he's going to turn into his old man. Or try to make a pretend, happy family with someone else who's lost their soulmate too.

He was doing just fine until they uprooted and replanted themselves in Hawkins. His pendant never changed temperature until they got closer and closer to this shitty little town.

He absolutely ignored the prickling it caused underneath his skin the night at Tina's Halloween party. It's been months.

keep your heart open (i'll keep mine open too) by callunavulgari (1/1 | 7,915 | Explicit)

“Did you even like me before you found out I was your soulmate?” Billy murmurs as he kisses a line down Steve’s throat. It bobs a little under his lips as Steve swallows, and Billy can feel Steve’s fingers digging into his hips, but he isn’t pushing him away.

“I don’t even like you now,” Steve says, but it’s a little too breathless, a little too much of a lie. Billy looks at him, and presses a careful kiss to the bruise on Steve’s jaw.

Steve’s eyes are dark, and he isn’t pushing Billy away.

Billy bites down on Steve’s ear, murmurs into it, “Liar.”

warnings: child abuse, recreational drug use

You're ripped at every edge (but you're a masterpiece) by BarbarianBillyHargrove (1/1 | 4,445 | Teen+)

When Billy showed up on the Byer’s doorstep, Steve watched with a red haze as he contemplated what it meant. His first soul match had failed- or was on the way there. And his second appeared to be a mistake. He’d heard stories of one-sided soul bonds, they were messy and ended only with disaster. This is what Steve thought about when purple blended with red and he lost consciousness to his potential soulmate’s fists.

warnings: child abuse

The Undertow by Ceose (1/1 | 2,563 | General)

Billy is born with his mark.

warnings: character chose not to use archive warnings, off screen character suicide/death

The Sapling by flippyspoon (1/1 | 3,641 | Mature)

Billy's mark appears.

To The Edge by Greedy_Insanity (1/1 | 1,963 | Teen+)

When your soulmates last words are on your wrist, do you really want to meet your soulmate?

Or two teenage boys deny their love for each other, until they realize they can't.

warnings: creator chose not to use archive warnings

Love Me Rotten by Rebldomakr (1/1 | 1,084 | Mature)

Steve was born with a crudely drawn sun on the middle of his chest, Billy was born with a garland around his wrist.

[bnhabadass]

Could I get an NSFW Alphabet for Icy Hot please?

Of course! Please enjoy this under the cut NSFW alphabet for Todoroki.

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

Todoroki would be very chill about everything. Very nonchalant and monotone. He definitely wants cuddles. You’d have to initiate them though because he wouldn’t want to bother you with them.

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He likes his hands. It’s kind of weird, not gonna lie, but he likes how he’s able to maneuver his quirk with them and he likes what he’s able to do to you with them. He loves touching you and feeling your skin against his palms.

He’s a leg man. Whether you have long model legs or not he loves to look at your thighs leading up to your ass. If you’re flexible he’d happily spend all day watching you do splits or lifting them up in the air.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

If he’s fucking you from behind he’ll pull out onto the back of your thigh or onto your ass. If you’re riding him or are doing it in missionary he likes to cum inside you if you let him or into a condom if you aren’t on birth control. Stay safe, kids!

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He’d like to have sex with you on his father’s desk or in his father’s bed. Basically any surface he can fuck you on that is somehow corrilated to Endeavor, he wants to fuck you on.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

He’s never been with anyone besides you. You were his first everything. First s/o, first kiss, first fuck.

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)

He likes it when you ride him, especially if you face away. As much as he loves your face he loves looking at your ass and bouncing thighs.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

He isn’t goofy. He won’t make jokes, although he’ll tell you how good you’re being if you’re into that. Other than that he usually won’t say much.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

He trims fairly close and shaves up to a certain point so it looks more contained. It is very similar in color to his hair, although maybe a darker shade of red.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

He loves praising every little inch of you. He might start out by kissing your forehead or your hands. Maybe even your ankle if you start out with him at your feet. But no matter what, every little bit of your body will be touched in some way by Todoroki Shoto.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

He didn’t really do it or even think about sex much until you started dating. Now that you two are together in that manner, he’ll jerk himself when you’re not there and he’s horny.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Todoroki is a dom and he loves temperature play. He’ll heat up or freeze parts of your body. He loves seeing you writhe while pinned underneath him.

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

As much as he wants to fuck you on his dad’s bed or in his office, Todoroki loves fucking you in his house, especially when Enji’s home.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

He loves it when you bite your lips. If you have a habit of doing it when you’re nervous or bored he loves seeing you like that.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

He would never participate in watersports or scat play. I just don’t think that’s something he’d be into.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

He loves praising every part of you, and that includes your sex. He never thought he’d be into giving cunnalingus until he actually did it. Now he never wants to stop. Although he loves giving, he would never turn down a blowjob if you offered.

P = Pace (Are they fats and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

He prefers taking his time with you and savoring the moment, but he’s also adaptable.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

If you just need a quicky he’ll give you a quickie, but again he’d rather take his time.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

He can go for two or three rounds. If he’s sore from training or if he’s sleepy that might be your cue to get on top. Sex with Todoroki usually lasts 20 minutes to half an hour.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

He has a vibrator he likes to use on you, but he likes being in control.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He isn’t the biggest tease. He loves foreplay, maybe even almost as much as the actual sex, but he doesn’t really get much out of teasing.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

He isn’t that loud other than a few grunts and groans here and there.

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon or scenario for the character of your choice)

Todoroki never understood the appeal of a daddy kink until you called him daddy once. It kind of just slipped out and it made him cum on the spot.

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

About 7 inches. He doesn’t have much girth to him, but he makes up for anything he lacks with skill.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

He can go a while without if you’re not there or if you’re not in the mood. Sex isn’t the only thing on his mind. That being said he still wants it or thinks about it weekly at the very least.

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He’ll make sure that you’re okay and he’ll help you clean up or change the sheets if need be, but once you’re curled up in his arms he’s out like a light.

[saccharinedanganimagines]

congrats on the new mods!! i love this blog and hope it only means itll be even more active!! do u think u could do an imagine with the v3 boys finding out their s/o has never been kissed before? maybe wanting to be their first?? tysm!!

so sorry I haven't written anything lately!i've was having a lot of writer's block, especially with this particular imagine, idk whymakes me sad since i love kissing scenarios-

because of this, uh, I chose only five boys from the cast, since these were the only ones i had semblances of good-ish ideas for, i apologize!

in other news i love our audience and my fellow mods like-can i just hug you all

-Mod Gonta

Shuichi, Kokichi, Kiibo, Korekiyo and Gonta's First Kiss with an S/O Who’s Never Kissed Before

Shuichi Saihara- He’d been wanting to kiss you for a while now, he ain’t gonna lie, but he’s been kind of afraid to ask you til now.- You both were simply watching a movie together, cuddled up on the couch.- Shuichi had to muster up all his courage, before gulping and looking at you.- “S/O? I was, um..wondering..”- “H....Have you, um....ever thought about...k-kissing me? ....O-On the lips.”- wow he’s awkward, why did he even say it like that- Though he actually didn’t expect you to say yes. What you said next kind of surprised him.- “I-I was just kind of nervous to initiate it, since, well...u-uh, I’ve never kissed anyone before..”- Ohhh, so that’s why. Well, that was kind of relieving for him.- “M-Me neither,” his face is burning up by now jeez. “...w...would you...wanna try to right now, though?” he’s practically a cherry now that you’ve said yes. Although your blush wasn’t helping your case either.- You both took your time, being shy and hesitant, but ultimately your first kiss was soft and sweet. Like Shuichi.

Kokichi Ouma- “S/O’s never kissed or been kissed before? That’s a shocker~” You couldn’t tell if it was genuine, or sarcastic. Compliment or insult. Or all of the above, you could never tell with him, really-- But Kokichi continued smiling mischievously at you, “Neehehe~ that just means I can claim it, though. So that's convenient!”- Blushing, you avoided his gaze. You didn’t exactly deny nor confirm whether or not you wanted him to be your first.- “What? You don’t want me to kiss you?” he feigned offense, “So rude, I swear..”- “I-I never said that, you know..” of course you probably weren’t gonna admit you wanted to either since it’s Kokichi--- Oh god there’s the grin.- Oh god he’s leaning over.- You were both excited and nervous, but you didn’t flinch back.- “Jeez, relax, S/O. I won’t bite your lip, okay?” really? “I’m being honest for once, I swear.”- “Okay, fine. Don’t be rough, though..”- So, you tried relaxing even though your heart was pounding.- Kokichi took your face in his hands, pulling you closer a bit gently, "Prepare yourself, S/O~" he giggled, and you rolled your eyes a bit, closing them as he initated the kiss.- Afterwards, you looked mildly surprised as he gave you a look.- "What?" "You're a surprsingly good kisser, Kokichi."

Kiibo- You'd never thought Kiibo would ever take much interest in kissing, so you never really asked him about it before.- Plus, it was only a few weeks into the relationship, and the most you both had done was hold hands and maybe a hug or two. Kiibo always seemed really shy to give affection, so you were afraid of causing himto overheat if you suggested kissing. Oh boy, how unexpected this question was for you.- "S/O, I-I was thinking...kissing one's partner is common in relationships, r-right?"- If you'd been drinking anything, you would've had a spit-take.- "U-Uh, yes, why?"- "I had been thinking of it, since I heard it from Miu," (along with other things she had told him were common in relationships but we won't go there)- Kiibo turned to face you, your faces were a matching shade of pink, "A-And I wanted to know if you would mind t-trying it out with me!"- Your silence had made him think you were opposed to the idea, so not even three minutes after he said it, he held up his hands frantically. "P-Please do not worry if it makes you uncomfortable, S/O!"- "N-Not that, I just, uh...well, never kissed before, frankly. B-But I've wanted to! I just thought you'd be uncomfortable if I asked, so I didn't.."- Kiibo blinked, "I see..I guess we were on the same surfboard, then! I'm, uh, glad you thought of me, as well.."- You giggled, "Wavelength, Kiibo. It's wavelength," you gently remind him. His blush grew darker and he huffed, "I-I knew that!"- After you both calmed down, Kiibo stared intently in your eyes, but he still had an aura of shyness around him. "T-Then, um..shall we try now?"- It was a bit awkward at first. You both kind of bumped noses a few times, and couldn't figure out how to position yourselves, but the kiss ended up being sweet regardless.

Korekiyo Shinguuji- You didn't even know how you'd be able to kiss Kiyo with that mask on. Boy nearly never took it off.- So, you never really brought the subject up, since you felt there was a possibility it wouldn't happen. It kinda hurt, but you didn't wanna annoy him or anything.- Kiyo, on the other hand, was interested in kissing you, contrary to what you thought. Even though getting kisses on the cheek and forehead were great in their own right, he wanted to see how you'd do kissing him on the lips for the first time.- So, being straightforward and honest, he one day hugged you from behind, resting his head on your shoulder. "S/O, would you mind kissing me?"- You blinked, kissing him on the cheek as you usually did, "Like that?"- "No, no, I mean...kiss me."- He faced you and your face heated up. Wait was he serious- "S-So suddenly?" "Yes, is that bad?"- Well, no, you were his lover, so of course he'd want to at some point. Though his sudden invitation to had flustered you.- "I-I, um, I don't mind, I suppose. I'm not experienced in it, like, at all..so don't be surprised if it's awkward," you said, turning to face him. why is he so gorgeous- "Not to worry, S/O," he said, doing a thing you never expected him to, "It is your first kiss, is it not?" he took off his mask HE TOOK IT OFF WHAT- Before you could get a good look or even react, his lips met yours as he held your chin gently.- Certainly a kiss you'd never forget. Both for the fact that it was amazing, and for the fact he took off his frickin mask liKE OH MY GOD.

Gonta Gokuhara- So, today, Gonta had invited you over to his house for a small date night. And it was probably one of the better date nights you've had so far.- Legit, this boy had put a lot of effort into tonight, and it showed. He'd cleaned the place up a bit, tried cooking your favorite foods, and even went as far as to try and dress up a bit for the occasion he still excluded shoes but who caresthis was amazing.- Now it was almost time for you to return home, but in the meantime you were simply watching TV with him, leaning against him whilst he held you gently.- "This was a lot of fun, Gonta."- "S/O really think so?" he smiled, "Gonta's glad! Gonta didn't know if he'd do too good, really.."- After a bit longer, Gonta spoke up again, a bit softer.- "U-Um, but...S/O?" "Hm?" "G-Gonta..wanted to ask you something.."- He looked a bit nervous, but once he saw you were paying attention, he spoke again, his cheeks growing a fine shade of red, "...G..Gonta asked his friends if t-they had advice beside...dinner and outfit. A-And, M-Miu said that..Gonta should try kissing S/O after date is over..?" Of course she did.- "Oh, really?" you smiled a bit, "Well, do you want to try, Gonta?" when he nodded shyly, you couldn't help but giggle.- "O-Only if S/O want to! G-Gonta don't wanna make S/O feel weird."- "Well, of course I do," you turned to face him, getting in a better position, "No better way to end a date night than with a kiss, right?" you pause, "And my first kiss at that."- "S/O's first kiss is..gonna be Gonta?" his eyes lit up, "I-I see! Gonta feels honored," he smiled brightly.- "...T-Then, um, is it okay if..?" he got closer, and you nodded.- His first few attempts resulted in him getting shy and hesitant, so to encourage him, you tried at the same time he did. The result was ending the night with a soft and romantic kiss. Didn't last much longer than a minute though since Gonta got too flustered to keep going.

[kakiross]

Tag, I guess I’m it!

Thanks for tagging me @hepiit !! These are always fun :D 

☆ what song would you use to describe your mc?

Calum (Half Breed): To the Wolves by Anberlin  -- Calum keeps to himself because his experience with the world up to his current point has been rife with betrayal, and he knows that for him to survive, he can’t easily trust. 

Astara (Half Breed): Mirror by Ellie Goulding -- Astara feels somewhat present, but apart from. She initially feels like fate is out of her own control, so she puts on a mask of trying to make the best of it, when she really wants to break free. 

☆ we won’t tell your characters but who’s your favourite?

Out of every character ever? I haven’t spent a lot of time with them yet, but maybe DJ from my Part-time Reaper wip or Emily Red from a wip I’ve barely conceptualized. 

☆ what’s your process or routine for getting ready to sit down and write? I have to clear the desk, ideally have some chai tea, and then try to avoid the internet... 

☆ what’s favourite trope/cliche? ... damsel in distress. I’m an absolute sucker for it D: 

☆ which one of your wips most/least want to be transported in to? Least: Definitely Half Breed. Humans are going extinct, so no good for me XD  Most: Part-time Reaper. I haven’t written much for it yet, but it’s turning into a bizarre, fun world 

☆ what’s the hardest part about writing to you? I can make up the most amazing beginning and a great climax followed by a satisfying ending, but the middle parts and matter to fill in the gaps is so hard to me. 

☆ have you ever based a character on a person you know in real life? Not really actually. All my characters are almost inspired by other characters, in a way? At least subconsciously. But I’ve never looked at a real person and consciously made the decision to base a character off of them. 

☆ what book would you love to see a turned into a movie or TV series I’ve been reading the Darker Shade of Magic series by V.E. Schwabb and I think it’d be a fascinating trilogy to turn into a series of movies! But then again, I see what they did with Divergent... (though to be fair, I never finished the series).  I also finished the book Sourdough by Robin Sloan and it was so delightful! I’d totally watch that movie. 

☆ how much research do you tend to do for your wips  I can try winging something, and then when I get detailed with it, I go out of my way to learn everything about it until I’m satisfied (which takes a lot). It’s more of a weakness than a strength I think, and I’d like to stop doing it so much

Let’s see... I’ll tag: @jess---writes @whatwouldyoudoforher @gottaenjoythelittlethingzz @thewritertiffany and anyone else who wants in

[adamslynches]

Break Up.

here’s a fic rec!!! The fic is by @quoththeraven-never-more and I have permission to post it, I hope you all enjoy!

read on ao3 here

It’s funny how breaking up is often synonymous with breaking down. That one word in difference often made no difference at all. And Kevin was feeling it. He’s tense. His heartbeat, fast. His head, pounding, from how much crying he'd gone through. He'd broken up with Jeremy only a day ago, and broken down without Jeremy in the night that followed it.

It's been a day since he did it. Now he stands in the bedroom, packing his things away. Trophies, sweaters, socks. Anything of Jeremy's he tosses to the bed. Some things- CDs of Kevin's that his boyfriend had liked- he sacrifices to the Jeremy pile.

They'd shared the apartment for months. Months of memories, months of dreaming. Months of soft cuddles, months of kisses on the cheek and gentle affection. Months of warmth.

The new apartment Kevin has picked out is a lot more grey. Concrete walls, bland generic paintings. Ceiling lights without shades. It’s cold there, and Kevin doesn’t even have a mattress to sleep on.

He wonders if he can claim a mattress from his ex. Is that ethical?

It had never been Jeremy's fault. Jeremy has always been perfect. He’s handsome and thoughtful, precise yet not critical. And Kevin had thrown it all away.

But it’s better for Jere, he's pretty sure. He deserves better.

Kevin's heart fucking aches. It’s crying, weeping. Go back, it screams, don't let him go.

Those months had been the first time Kevin felt alive since the day Riko drew his last breath.

Kevin doesn’'t want to go back to the cold. The cold that came with Riko, with the Ravens. There’s no reason to expect that, considering the boy's death.

But he doesn't deserve any better than that, does he?

Maybe he’s comfortable in that uncomfortable cold by now. Maybe the warmth alienated him- made his skin crawl. Maybe Jeremy had been too warm and cozy. Maybe he had burned and suffocated the boy. Maybe Kevin longed for the cold again. Longed for keeping his head down. Maybe he just-

Kevin turns when he hears Jeremy at the door. He sighs. He isn't disappointed that the boy has joined him, just sorry that the boy feels he has to.

"Is this yours?"

The darker haired boy holds up a sky blue sweater. Of course it’s Jeremy's, it’s far too colourful. Jeremy doesn't mean to display his personality through his outfits, through his colourful wardrobe, but he does. Plain and simple. As does Kevin, and his closet matches, akin to an infinite abyss of darkness.

Jeremy nods, and then walks forward to take it from Kevin's hands, folding it gently.

"I called you, but you didn't answer, so I called Andrew, and then your dad. They said you weren't answering your phone at all."

His voice is worried, more worried than Kevin deserves. He had dumped him, for fuck sake. Jeremy had cried.

"Figured you could use some help, though."

He started to tidy the things Kevin had put on the bed into piles, trying his best to start a normal conversation. Kevin doesn't really feel much like talking.

So he doesn’t. Not a word passes through his lips. He listens, though. He keeps back the tears he feels coming on, he keeps back the apologies and everything. He just wants silence. He wants to be alone and to be cold, freezing even.

Jeremy isn't willing to let it rest, though. He helps Kevin to sort through his own things too, before pausing as he picks up his own Trojans hoodie that Kevin had all but stolen.

"Do you want to keep this? It doesn't feel right to take it."

"It's yours," says Kevin blankly. "You can take it if you want."

He doesn't want it. Honestly, he wants everything about Jeremy to just stop existing. He wants Jeremy to live a good life and not have it be tainted by Kevin Day. Jeremy bites his lip, and then put it with Kevin's things anyway before moving on.

"I said you can take it, Jere."

"I don't want it, I gave it to you." He shrugs and then shoots him a smile. "The Trojans are your favourite team, Kev."

It’s unfair, really, how Jeremy's smile could make his stomach flip over. Kevin lets his face drop before he nods. "Okay, fine."

Maybe now that he'd gotten used to warmth, he'd freeze to death in the cold.

Jeremy thinks back to all the memories they'd made between these four walls. All the deep conversations, all the opening up and the emotional bonds formed between them growing and growing. Why did it have to end? If not sorrow, Jeremy is filled with confusion. Why did Kevin dump him? Was he not happy? Was he too ugly for him? Why, why, why did he have to be so cruel?

Was it because of exy? Because they weren't on the same teams, maybe because Kevin wasn't a Trojan. Was that it?

Was it a lie, every time Kevin said he loved him?

Jeremy doesn't know how he’s going to cope. He'd gotten used to the boy's smell, sharing the boy's clothes. How he curled up awkwardly, how he walked around barefoot. He likes Kevin's cooking. He likes Kevin's baking- he loves Kevin's scones. Living with the boy had been like a dream.

But now, he supposes, he is awake.

He’s been shaken out of this blissful dream back to the nightmare of reality. The loneliness. Sure, he has the team. But he doesn’t have Kevin. And right now, he'd kick the team to the curb if it meant understanding how Kevin Day thought.

On the outside, it looks like Kevin doesn't understand that they had just broken up after not only being together for months and months, but that they'd lived together. They'd moved into an apartment together.

Just… why?

Jeremy must have been staring for too long, because Kevin furrows his brow. "What?"

For some reason, Kevin is excited to be single again. More likely he’s making himself excited. Forcing himself to be. Breaking up had been his idea, though. He doesn't deserve Jeremy, not in the slightest. That’s what he has to keep reminding himself.

"Just thinking."

"About what?"

"Us."

There’s no more us. If there’s a word for the past tense of us, that's what we are. We were, and now we are not. Kevin wants to say the words, knows how badly they'll hurt. Maybe then Jeremy will leave him alone. He deserves it.

"Why?"

Jeremy sighs. He shouldn't talk about it. He should let it die. He should talk about it with his friends, he shouldn't try to ignite somthing again. Why should he bother?

"Because I don't want us to be over, Kev."

Kevin sighs. Most of him doesn't either. But most of him isn't logical. Most of him doesn't take into an account what a shitstain he is. How terrible of an influence he is on people. The drinking is too much already, and unbeknownst to Jeremy he's taken up smoking recently too.

Kevin finished packing his bags and snaps the last suitcase closed. He heaves them to the next room, leaving Jeremy unanswered for a few minutes. Jeremy lingers in the doorway, not letting Kevin out of sight.

"You'll be glad you got rid of me."

That would initiate an argument. Kevin knew it. That's why he said it. And now it's out there, words floating about. You'll be glad.

Jeremy feels guilty. Was it something he'd said?

"Was it something I said? Or is it just the self deprecation?"

Kevin shakes his head. "Neither. It's just the truth."

"So that's it. You're leaving-?"

"That's it, Jeremy. Get over me."

Jeremy feels his heart finally snap.

"Get over you? How am I supposed to get over you, Kevin?'

Jeremy stomps past him, waving his hands in the air. "Oh, however will I get over Kevin Day! Oh my god, my life is forever ruined, the most important man in the universe has just dumped me! You're such a fucking narcissist, Kevin."

Kevin huffs. "Exactly. I'm a piece of shit."

Jeremy scoffs back at him. "That's not an excuse. You can't just say that you're an asshole to excuse your shitty behaviour. God, you're so immature."

"Yeah, I'm-"

"Say one more thing about how bad you are, Kevin, and I swear to god..."

Jeremy's face had gone red. Tears were out, now, streaming down his cheeks. He sniffles.

"I'm in love with you, regardless of how fucked up you are. God, fuck you, fuck you for being the one to break my heart, Kevin."

"Get out of my w-way."

Kevin tries to shove him out of his way, but Jeremy holds his ground. "Just tell me why. Really, give me the real reason. What did I do?"

The raven-haired boy just shakes his head. "You did nothing. You were perfect. You are perfect. And I'm just not."

Jeremy shakes his head, crossing his arms. "That's not fair, I- I want to be with you. Are you waiting for me to beg, because I'm not going to beg."

"I don't want you to beg-"

"Then what do you want?!"

Kevin hates this. He hates how rough this has to be. But it's how it has to be.

This is just short term fucked up, right? This is lick your wounds, you're fine, fucked up, right? Kevin would be doing more damage sticking around.

"I want you to get out of my way."

And Jeremy does.

"Don't come back," he mumbles.

"I won't."

"Don't call me in two weeks, crying, begging me to take care of your sorry drunk ass."

"I won't."

Kevin places a hand on the door frame. It's cold now, too. He pulls his bags behind him.

"Bye."

[spidermando]

Flipped {Pt. 3}

Pairing: Peter Parker X Reader

Word Count: 2.2k+

Warnings: feels, swearing, major character death

A/N: so this is the final part of Flipped. I hope you all enjoyed the series. I really loved writing it (-: 

Request: I see requests is open~ could you write a Peter Parker x reader where Peter wakes up in an AU where he isn’t spider-man, but the reader is? [theres more to this but it spoils the next chapter/s]

Masterlist

Previous <

 It’s safe to say that y/n took my offer seriously. Not even a week later, the red and blue clad supergirl turned up at my window. At first, I was scared that she was hurt, but she merely told me she was lonely and looking for someone to talk to.

We spent the night telling stories and jokes, before we both fell asleep on the floor beside my bed. When morning rolled around, I turned to see her gone and a note in her place.

That had become our nightly routine. Every night she’d show up at my window, we’d talk the night away and then I’d wake up in the morning to find a hand-written note. A few times she’d turn up with bruises and cuts, specks of blood staining her suit. I’d clean her up, drowning in worry and anger when I did. How could someone hurt her? How could someone be so soulless and cause her to bleed? I wanted to wrap my hands around their throat and squeeze until they could no longer breathe. Which is uncharacteristically violent of me.

Still, every day my brain would yell at me to figure out what was happening. To figure out why I was no longer spider-man and why no one knew me anymore. But my heart said no. My heart wanted to stay here with her forever, to forget about my normal life and live by her side to the day I die. If spending the rest of my life with her meant losing my powers, it didn’t seem like a big price to pay.

There was the initial shock of meeting her and then there was actually getting to know her. At first it seemed weird how quickly she opened up to me, and then I remembered that we’d been friends for ‘years’.

“What are you thinking about?”

Her soft voice woke me from my trance, turning to her I saw the small smile plastered on her face. “You.”

Her cheeks tinted a soft shade of pink, as she looked down at the ground. “What about me?”

Before I could even think, my hand reached forward and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. When she didn’t move, I placed my hand beneath her chin and brought her up to look at me.

“About how b-beautiful you are.” I spoke softly, letting go of her chin.

I don’t know where any of this confidence came from. It was just her, something about her made me calm and collected. Something about her made me feel like I could concur the world.

“I-I wouldn’t say that…” her voice trailed off as her cheeks got even darker.

This time it was my turn to smile, “neither would I.”

Her face instantly fell, her eyes casting down to the floor. “oh...”

“Beautiful doesn’t do you justice.”

It took a second for my words to translate in her head, but when they finally did she looked up at me with wide eyes. “Oh.”

Slowly, I tilted my head and leaned in. She mirrored me, coming closer and closer. Our lips were centimetres from touching.

And then I woke up in my bed.

In a daze of confusion, I stared across the room, eyes searching for any sign she was ever here. My sight caught onto a piece of white paper, it was folded neatly and placed on my left pillow. Leaning over, I snatched it and quickly unfolded it.

I’ll see you at school

Love,

Y/n.

p.s. I really enjoyed last night, hopefully my breath didn’t smell to bad.

I scanned over the note serval times, looking for any memory after us leaning in. But there was none. Slowly, I folded the note back up. Opening my bedside draw, I pulled out my bundle of hand-written letters and added it to the pile.

My mind was still running 100 miles an hour, reaching for something that wasn’t there.

And it’s not like I could ask her what happened. If we did kiss, and I hope we did, it would definitely hurt her feelings that I forgot. The only thing I could do was act natural, act like nothing had happened. And then hope she’d make a move or bring up last night.

My day started like it normally did, or normally in this timeline. I got up, brushed my teeth, did my hair, got dressed, had breakfast, said goodbye to Aunt May and then left for school. The train ride was busier than yesterday, so once again I stood with my hand grasping the hanging handle.

When I finally got to school, the halls were packed with students. Everyone was split into groups, some flying drones, other working on science projects. I couldn’t find Ned, Y/N or MJ. So, I walked to my locker, opened it and got out some books. Closing it, I jumped out of my skin.

Y/n stood at my locker, her arms crossed and lips pursed.

“W-What’s wrong?” My voice was higher than usual, putting my nervousness out for everyone to see.

The second she heard my voice, a bright smile slipped onto her face, her arms loosening. “Don’t panic, I was just joking.”

“Oh,” I laughed a little. “I totally knew that.”

Nodding her head, she hummed and started walking away.

The day continued as normal, with y/n not acting strange or mentioning anything from last night. When 2:45pm rolled round, she disappeared into the crowd, going off to be Queens superhero. I’m not going to lie, I miss going around and helping people. It’s a big part of my life that’s now missing. But Y/N definitely helped fill the gaping hole in my heart.

I’d just brought a number 5 with pickles, swinging the plastic bag back and forth as I took the short cut to my house. There was a strange tickle running down my spine, almost as if someone was watching me.

Taking a sharp right into the alleyway, I started heading down to the other side. I’d gone down here dozens of times before, both as and as not Spider-man. Therefore, I didn’t feel unsafe or the least bit worried. I did still feel that tingling though.  

The end was in sight, when a loud bump sounded behind me. Not bothering to turn back, I kept walking. However, this time the bump was followed by a low moan. Stopping dead in my tracks, I turned back. Someone was in pain. And maybe I could help said one.

“Hey, is there someone there?”

Once again, there was a bang and a low moan. I stepped cautiously towards the sounds, avoiding stepping on anything. “Do you need help?”

“Y-Yes.”

The words came from the shadows, so thinking fast I took my phone out of my pocket and shone the flashlight into the dark. A man stood in the gloom, a gun in his left hand as he grinned widely at me.

“People like you always fall for stuff like this.” His voice was rough. “Give me your money.”

This time I didn’t even try and fight back. Knowing and accepting that I was a useless fighter without my powers.

“I-I don’t have any money.” My voice was soft and weak, egging on the armed man.

“Then how did you buy that?” He pointed at my plastic bag, raising his eyebrows.

My eyes ran from my hand to the man. “With a note. I-I didn’t get c-change.”

The man was about to speak again, when a figure dropped from the ceiling above.

“Seriously, what is wrong with you guys?”

I couldn’t help but smile when she spoke, her voice full of sass and annoyance.

“Listen, spider-woman i-“

She interrupted him again. “I’d rather not. Let’s just fight and get this over with.”

Everything happened so quickly, one second she lunged at the man and then the next a loud bang filled the alley. It bounced off the walls, echoing down the space and causing me to lean over and plug my ears.

When the sound finally faded, I glanced at the man, his eyes were wide as he stared at Y/n. A second later he threw the gun, before sprinting down the alleyway. My eyes slowly trailed to her, seeing her standing there clutching at her chest. For a second I was confused and then I saw it.

The patch of blood seeping from her hands.

I ran to catch her as her knees gave way. I just made it, wrapping her in my arms as I softly lowered us to the floor.

“H-hey, it’s going to be okay.” I tried to sooth her, knowing that it was going to be fatal without even seeing the wound.

“D-Don’t lie to me.” She whimpered, removing one of her hands to grip my own. “Please don’t lie to me.”

Her hand was covered in blood, but I grasped it tightly. “I’m not lying.”

She chuckled gently, squeezing my hand before loosening her grip. “Whatever you say, Parker.”

Realisation hit me, as my mouth hung open and my eyes glazed over. “T-This is all my fault.”

“Hey,” she furrowed her eyebrows. “It’s not your fault. You didn’t shoot the gun.” Her voice was rough and rigid, her speech filled with gaps to gasp for breath.

“But you wouldn’t even be here if it wasn’t for me.” My voice cracked, my hand shaking in her own.

I don’t know if ignored my comment, or simply didn’t hear it but she didn’t respond. Her eyes closed, causing worry to seep into my heart. I expected them to open again, but when they didn’t I couldn’t help but suck in a breath.

“Y/n? y/n please.” I could feel the tears trail constantly down my cheeks. “Please, y/n I love you.”

A small smile etched on her face, her chest struggling to rise and fall.

“No matter how many times I tell you not to go down dark alleys, you still do it.” She mumbled, “but I love you, too.” And then she went limb in my arms, a sack of meat and bones missing its life.

I woke up with a start, tears trailing down my cheeks as I violently rubbed them away. It took me a few seconds to get my bearings, and when I finally did I turned to see Mr Stark standing behind a desk, his fingers resting on a computer keyboard as he stared at me with wide eyes.

“M-Mr. Stark?” My voice was uneven, as I sucked in deep breaths. “What h-happened?”

“I-Uh,” this was the first time I’d ever seen the billionaire lost for words. He cleared his throat, glancing down at his computer screen. “I put you in that simulation to test your mental strength.”

My mind struggled to wrap around his words, so I looked around the room. Everything was like it was that night. “W-Wait, so n-n-none of that was r-real?”

His eyes connected with mine, as he nodded. “All a figment of your imagination.”

“So Y-Y/n doesn’t ex-“

Before I could even finish Mr. Stark was shaking his head. “Sadly not.”

“Oh.”

He smiles sadly, something I’d never seen him do before. “I’m sorry, Peter. I shouldn’t have tested this on you, it wasn’t fair.”

“I-It’s okay, I’m happy I could help.” I couldn’t stop the disappointment from seeping into my voice.  “What did you tell Aunt May? I-I must’ve been under for weeks, maybe even months.”

“It was 4 hours,” Mr. Stark corrected. “Time travels faster when you’re in it.”

“Oh.” We sat in silence for a moment, before I spoke up again. “So did I pass?”

“What?”

“The test, did I pass the test?” I asked again, this time adding the context.

Mr. Stark looked down at his computer and read from it. “Yeah, you reacted well to the whole thing actually.”

“That’s good then.”

Mr. Stark walked over to me, placing a hand on my shoulder. “You better go home. You have school tomorrow.”

When I woke in the morning I couldn’t help but look across at the other side of my bed, expecting a hand-written note to be folded on my pillow. A deep pain banged my chest when I noticed it was empty.

I started my day as I started any other, cleaning my teeth, brushing my hair, having breakfast and catching the train to school. When I got there, Ned was already waiting at my locker. We instantly fell into conversation, however I did stumble over my words a few times as I went to bring up Y/N.

Our first lesson was Spanish. Settling into my chair I expected Y/N to be across from me, with her notebook out and her doodling in it. The deep hole in my chest got bigger when I realised she wasn’t there. She was never there, never was and never would be.

“Okay class,” our teacher walked to the front of the room. “I want to welcome our new student.”

A girl walked in, her eyes trailing the floor as she avoided looking at us.

“Why don’t you introduce yourself?”

She looked up, and instantly I sucked in a breath.

“Y/n?” Her name left a tingle on my lips. “y/n.”

Tag List:

@antisocialshipper @julimelodi @thehollandcommittee @not-reptilian  @marvel-girl-xo @who-cares-rn @golden-guide @in-the-potterhead-know

[chocosvt]

||↠11 questions tag 🖋

tagged by: @mansaeboysbe and @sunnysidewrites! thnk u my lovs.

tagging: @whatsoodo , @bfwooz , @jishua , @teeyongs + anyone else who wants to answer the questions. ill leave my own 11 for u to answer at the bottom of the post.

it’s been awhile since ive last done a tag game. i know tht im still behind on quite a few erfhnerf but ill try my best to take more initiative w/ these things. also disclaimer; sorry if my answers are kilometers long, it should be fairly obvious at this point i never shut the fuck up.

anyways, here are the q’s im answering in case u wanna see a specific answer :^)

01: weirdest present you have recieved? 02: coloured pencils, markers, or crayons? 03: what colour would you dye your hair? 04: which concept would you pick for which group? 05: sweet or sour candy? 06: favourite quirk on an idol? 07: would you rename a fandom? 08: something you want to tell your bias? 09: kpop MV you would want and not want to get stuck in? 10: an AU you’ve always wanted to write? 11: use memes to describe 2017 and how you want 2018 to go.

[01]. weirdest present you’ve ever received?

my pals and i always exchange weird presents for one another’s birthdays! it’s pretty much a tradition at this point, tho im not sure when or how it began? im pretty sure my last birthday card had caillou on it or something lol, and at one point we got our pal a can of peaches, a container of straws, tissue packages n a remote control, all with lil puns on them.

but the weirdest gift ive ever recieved? uhh, it was probably this miniature cotton candy machine tht my friends spent way too much on, primarily bc we only used it the day i opened it. u took hard candies and put them in the machine and eventually they would be spun into the actual floss tht makes cotton candy. it was cool but my mom threw it out eventually lol.

[02]. coloured pencils, markers, or crayons?

definitely coloured pencils. markers and crayons don’t rly have an exact tip. well, unless ure using a fine-tip marker. and there’s something rly satiating abt having sharp, clean writing or outlining. i was the kid who outlined all my fucking drawings and shaded them in with coloured pencils. miss me w/ tht crayon, marker shit. also, the sound wood makes when its being sharpened? tht was my favourite part.

[03]. if you could dye your hair any colour, what would it be?

honestly ive never thought of dying my hair. i like the colour how it is, which is sort of a darker blonde/slightly goldish shade. im not sure what would fit my face? i can only see myself going beach blonde. i feel like any other colour would be a disaster on my hair and i already damage it enough bc i straighten it every few days.

[04]. which concept would you pick for which group?

i know clc just did a badass concept with their “crystyle” album (which is one of the best albums of 2017 so jot tht the fuck down) and i absolutely adore their cute concepts as well bc we got bops like “pepe” n “high heels” BUT GOD I WANT THEM TO DO ANOTHER BADASS CONCEPT I BECAME ADDICTED TO IT. IT K*LLED ME TO SEE SEUNGHEE IN ALL BLACK WEARING THOSE THIGH-HIGH BOOTS I DI*ED THEN RESURRECTED IN THE SAME BREATH. i find them to be super versatile, they can go either way and ill support them no matter the concept. their quality of music never decreases. but yep, id pick another badass concept for the ladies.

[05]. sweet or sour candy?

sweet sweet sweet!! to be fair i luv pretty much all candies, minus jolly ranchers bc ive consumed so many of them tht if i see another fucking jolly rancher i will strap myself to a rocket. ANYWAYS, definitely sweet. my favourite candies (not keeping chocolate in mind bc chocolate overrules everything) would be swedish berries and werther’s caramel. for sour candies i would choose sour patch kids and sour keys!! obviously i would d*e for candy so let’s just get tht out of the mf’ way.

[06]. favourite quirk of an idol?

oh gosh. imma have 2 think for this one. the image tht comes to me exactly is junhui’s tendency to curl into whoever is next to him! most likely when he does something embarrassing, he retreats into a tiny mass of stuffy giggling and sis, it’s the best thing on the face of this planet. he’s rly such a shy flower. also, joshua’s habit of covering his mouth when he laughs is v v endearing to me. i believe it goes to show his politeness, though it can also be a characteristic of someone who’s timid, to which i think both reasons apply here. i wish i could think of more bc im certain there are a ton belonging 2 my favourite idols, but im highkey drawing a blank.

[07]. would you rename a fandom? what would the name be?

hmm. im not someone who pays close attention to fandom names. hoshi could have very well kept us as mounteens and i wouldnt give a single cherry n a half, though at this point carats is a lot more fitting and we’ve all grown attached to it. honestly, im not tht keen on red velvet and fx’s fandom names? i know tht in red velvet’s case the option “cupcakes” was up for grabs so when in comparison to reveluv’s i’m pretty thankful the latter was chosen. im not entirely sure what i would name the fandom, so respect to whoever is in charge of the titling. as for fx, they deserved to get their fanclub name much sooner. again im not someone who cares a whole lot abt fandom names, but it would have been cool if the fandom was some mathematical formula lol.

[08]. something you want to tell your bias?

BITCH. THE PRESSURE. if i were 2 meet junhui in person i would be such a nervous wreck i wouldnt even trust myself to speak. boi, if i even spotted him on the street i’d beeline in opposite direction so fast i would just be a fucking blur of light and potential tears. there would be many things i’d want to relay to him, honestly if we were just to hang out at a café or some location like tht with the time to talk and understand one another, i’d be like “hold tht thought, gerald” n drop a whole fucking novel on the table with reasons i appreciate him. i guess i’d want junhui to know how his efforts have certainly been acknowledged and that each quirk in his personality brings a lot of comfort/inner happiness to those who are still unsure abt themselves.

i’d also like for him to know tht whilst his visual is amazing, tht is not the only remarkable thing tht makes junhui, junhui. it’s his kindness, gentle heart, and optimism. essentially i’d want him to know tht his hard work is being noticed, how much delight he brings by being himself, and tht he has many qualities he should be confident in.

[09]. which kpop M/V would you want, and not want, to get stuck in?

i’ve already answered the first half 2 this question in a previous ask, but red velvet’s ice cream cake! it has to be one of my all-time favourite music videos solely bc i luv the usage of soft colours. not to mention they’re having hella fun with their fuzzy glow-coats and dancing around a parlour eating cake? like what the fuck, i don’t know what kind of cult this is but i want in! also tht means i would get to be joy’s lesbian luver and nothing else brings me greater elation.

a kpop music video i would not want to get stuck in is exo - wolf. there doesnt need to be an explanation. we already know the answer.

[10]. which AU have you always wanted to write but haven’t?

okay, first of all, bitch. there are abt one million au’s i wanna explore so inexplicably bad but i just havent gotten the time or the energy to compile the research/plan the plot. for starters, since opening this blog over two years ago, ive always wanted to write something with a serial killer. which sounds a bit scary and fucked but i absolutely lov thriller/horror movies. ive watched pretty much all of them. i find the suspension and how the scenes manipulate your body to be something unique in tht moment and to build the talent to be able to write such an AU would be my mf’ goal. it would most likely be very long and graphic, but my descriptive brain would chew tht up.

more au’s bordering along the dark line would be ghosts, vampires and demons. those are most fascinating to me. if a softer light, i’d like to write a surfer!au (specifically for joshua) and an android!au.

[11]. use a meme to describe how your 2017 went and how you want your 2018 to go.

my 2017 was somethin like this:

and i’d like my 2018 to be a lil like this:

[MY QUESTIONS]

01: would you rather explore outer space or the ocean? 02: do you wear any makeup? 03: two idol groups you’d like to collab? 04: if you could only listen to three svt songs, what would they be? 05: dusk or dawn? 06: show a picture of your handwriting? 07: what is your favourite word that’s in another language? 08: the countryside or the city? 09: what’s better in a muse, humour or kindness? 10: choose three idols. one to be your best friend, bro/sis, and spouse. 11: something you didnt do in 2017 that you want to do in 2018?

don’t feel tht this tag is mandatory! i hope everyone has been staying healthy n well n i wish for u all 2 experience good things in the new year! <3

[stellarspaced]

INTRODUCTION

name junghwa park. nationality british. ethnicity korean. astrological sign capricorn. blood type a. blood status pureblood. 

STATISTICS

gender male.  species human. appearance lithe frame, pale skin tone, full lips, somewhat short in height compared to those he meet. disinterested expression and curious, wide-set eyes. he generally keeps his hair dyed a brownish red hue with sides of head are shaven. his wardrobe tends to be of neutral shades and dark colours, minimalist in it’s style. has a tendency to wear expensive cloaks. 

WAND INFORMATION

wood yew — yew wands are among the rarer kinds, and their ideal matches are likewise unusual, noted for a tendency to have a darker reputation when it comes to dueling and curses. core phoenix  — one of three cores that are capable of the greatest range of magic, however, fickle and take longer to reveal it’s true strength. length 10 in.

MAGICAL CHARACTERISTICS

boggart depending on the circumstances, his worst fears have the tendency to change. currently the boggart stands for a representation of his parents’ disappointment, their rejection. amorentia crisp, clean airy and that sharp scent after it rains, melted chocolate, earthy undertones  —  sandelwood, burning cedar and warm notes. patronus does not have one, simply does not have the ability to draw a patronus. animagus a raven, small, flighty bird.

skills defense, occlumency taught by a few deatheaters toward the end of his final year; most of the recruits during 7th year were already suspected deatheaters and took the mark before graduation, dark arts  — taught the unforgivable curses by his parents. strengths potions, alchemy, ancient runes, he tends to excel in math and science magical characteristics. weaknesses offense and charms.

ACADEMICS

school hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry, slytherin house. owls outstanding in most courses, with exceeding expectation in charms and herbology, lowest performing grades. newts earned high grades in his best courses, exceeding expectations in charms.

EMPLOYMENT

employer healer w/ a focus on potion making and wound-healing techniques. affiliation initial deatheater turned order of the phoenix, will operate as a double agent in future versions/present versions of this alternate universe. migrated his way into the inner-circle over time through family status as well as perceived devotion to the cause. job at st mungos allows for him to work with aurors, thus gaining and picking up information to deliver back to the deatheaters. suspected to be a deatheater due to his familial ties and background, but never directly questioned. 

PERSONALITY

relentless. ruthless. intelligent. ambitious. resourceful. focuses on the past. fears public humiliation. analyzing. calculative. private. well-spoken. condescending. intp. logical. goal-oriented. theorists. seemingly not a threat and unsuspecting — uses that ability to camouflague to his advantage. 

NOTES OF INTEREST

family is considered old-money — in muggle terms would be labeled as bluebloods. the family is quite known for their blood prejudices. he’s able to trace his line back to the merlin era. ancestors left korea in the 15th century during the joseon period for england.

father joined deatheaters during tom riddle’s initial rise to power. his father was immediately scripted into the inner-circle due to his financial background and influence in the wizarding community.

mother frequently advocates against mixing blood, half-breeds, and lesser magical creatures. 

family known to  entertain extravagant parties, home frequently hosts voldemort and other inner-circle families.

sister is more or less estranged from the family and is considered an outsider to them. burned out of her heritage. he’s the only son, thus heir apparent, and expected to produce a son to continue the line.

almost always wears the family ring, which is the family crest and emerald gems embedded in stainless steel, passed down to him when he left for hogwarts at eleven — when he’s at work, he keeps the object around his neck via a thin chain.

participated in the torture of the longbottoms and the murder of the mckinnon family. (marauder era).

[spideney]

Soma (It 2017) (Stan-centric)

Pairing: Stan & Bill, reddie mention

Word Count: 1,996

Rating: T

After It, Stan wants to be okay, for everyone to be okay. This proves difficult.

AO3 Link

Warning, this deals with intrusive thoughts.

~

“Ice cream again?”

Stan kept looking down as he nodded to Eddie’s question; he didn’t need to speak, a chorus of soft “yeah”’s already coming from the rest of their group. It was all instinctual by now. They got on their bikes after school, spring’s sudden heat baring down on their backs, and rode to whatever place they could safely be themselves without the threat of bullies or parents. This week’s sunniness denoted getting ice cream along the way.

Mike was already there when they arrived at the parlor, greeting as usual—half-hugging Bill, high-fiving Richie and Eddie, ruffling Ben’s hair. His high-five to Stan turned into a handshake halfway.

“You ace that math test Stan?”

For the first time that day, Stan smiled. How Mike remembered these minute details about his friends’ lives—math tests, doctors’ appointments, parents’ birthdays—he didn’t know, but it was something he appreciated. It made him feel important—God forbid.

“You know he did, Mike. When does he ever not,” Richie grumbled, coming back from the counter with his double-scoop of fudge chocolate whilst glaring at the cone as if it just became sentient and spat in his face.

Stan’s smile grew into a smirk as he detected the jealousy. “He’s just being pissy because he failed.”

Ben and Mike snickered while Eddie followed Bill up to the counter; they already knew where this was going. Richie met Stan’s eyes with a matching grin, gearing himself up.

“Incorrect. I got a 69. Mrs. McMillan’s sending me signals.”

Simultaneously, Ben and Mike groaned—Stan merely held himself back, quickly rolling his eyes. “Gross. And Richie, a 69 is technically failing.”

“Ever heard of rounding up?”

“Richie, you did not get that grade, shut up. Let’s go,” Eddie cut in sharply, he and Bill returning with cones in hand. Richie held his hands up in faux innocence, gazing pleadingly at the shorter boy as he passed him.

“What’s with the tone, Eds? I actually studied—”

Bill sidled up close, and Stan immediately tuned out the others’ conversation. “I th-think Eddie didn’t like that comment about Mrs. Mc-McMillan,” he whispered, just quiet enough that only Stan could hear.

Muffling his laughter with a hand to his mouth, Stan nudged his friend and gave him a glance in agreement. Eddie was pretty obvious, at least to Bill, Stan, and Mike. Cows would fly before Richie ever got a clue.

It was still strange without Beverly there—times like this, when they were all together, her absence was especially stark. But they managed. She’d already visited once since she moved away, and was planning another before the school year ended. Bill and Ben took a while longer to bounce back from the initial sadness of her departure, but writing regularly back and forth to her seemed to brighten their moods.

With the proper urging from Eddie, the remaining Losers got back on their bikes and started their downhill, 5-minute journey to the riverside. Stan thought they’d found a rather picturesque little clearing—not that Derry itself was anything close to picturesque, in his opinion. But it was reasonably far away from any clowns or sewers, which was a plus.

“Eddie!”

At Richie’s yell, the other four boys’ eyes immediately darted to Eddie, seeing him motionless on his bike and his ice cream dropped on the road. They all halted, Richie wheeling over to Eddie.

“You-You okay Eddie?” Bill asked, but he got no response. Stan followed Eddie’s line of vision, and his blood ran a notch colder as he spotted the bundle of red balloons tied down outside the post office.

Not that they were It’s balloons; he knew as soon as he saw them. They were shaped like hearts, a bit darker red, almost maroon. They weren’t unreal. But they still caused a shock to run through him.

After a few seconds of silence, understanding quickly dawning on everyone, Eddie turned around with a slightly embarrassed expression.

“Uh, sorry guys, uh…”

“It’s fine,” Ben quickly answered, and the rest of the group nodded.

“…Want to g-go back and get another?” Bill asked, wheeling closer and motioning to the ruined cone. Eddie shook his head, taking a deep breath. Stan felt a bit proud of him—the fanny pack wasn’t on today.

“Let’s, uh, go.”

Eddie sped off almost as soon as he said it, but they understood. Dwelling on the bad things didn’t tend to turn out well.

Mike swiftly curved around to the front of the group as they started riding again, clapping a hand on Eddie’s back. “Remember, we fucked that clown up!” He looked over his shoulder with a tooth-baring smile. “Right?”

“..Yeah! We fucked him up!” Ben shouted, and Bill and Richie laughed before shouting out their own victories, Richie’s a touch more vulgar. They all kept laughing, and eventually Eddie joined in. The sun’s rays beamed down slightly hotter.

  Their spot was situated between a few oak trees just so that Stan sat in the shade, a cool breeze bouncing off the river and hitting his cheeks every now and then. It was a good day; birds and squirrels were dancing in the branches above them, Ben and Bill were skipping rocks, Mike was trying and failing to catch fish with his bare hands, Richie was sharing his ice cream with Eddie—no explanation needed for that one. It made sense that now would be the time for Stan to feel uneasy. Of course, now was the time.

This won’t last forever.

He slowly let a sigh out of his mouth, over five seconds. Nope. Rummaging through his backpack, he quickly found his History notebook and opened to his doodles, continuing the ones that were now relevant to his surroundings—trees, animals. They weren’t good, certainly not as good as Bill’s, but it was something.

“Oh, can I borrow your English notes from today?” Richie asked, scooting closer and beginning to dig through Stan’s backpack.

“Only if you actually use them to study.”

They don’t actually like you.

Stan clenched his pencil as Richie looked up at him with a teasing grin, eyes big and marble-like behind his glasses. “What else would I use them for? What do you use them for? Jacking off to the symbolism found in The Raven? I knew it.”

Another eye-roll. “Just get them back to me tomorrow.”

You should stay home tomorrow. They wouldn’t miss you.

His shoulders tensed, and luckily Richie left the conversation there, turning back to Eddie with the same grin in place. Stan urged his fingers to relax as he shaded in his crow’s feathers.

It’s dangerous outside. Stay in your room. Go home. Never leave.

It’s dangerous in Derry. Leave.

Life is dangerous. You should’ve died.

He wasn’t sure how long he’d been staring at the same pencil stroke, but at some point, Bill sat down next to him. Stan blinked in surprise, wetting his dry lips.

“You a-alright?” Bill asked nonchalantly, and Stan finally noticed that he’d been tapping his foot. He stopped.

“…Yeah. Drawing,” he croaked, and relaxed in relief when his voice came out calm.

Bill nodded and pointed to the page, giving the various animals he’d drawn names and personalities. A game they shared once Stan began doing it with Bill’s doodles. Stan chuckled at the especially creative ones, and felt his heartrate slowing.

His eyes caught sight of the notebook on Bill’s lap—the writing that he’d presumably sat down to work on—and he asked without thinking, “Letter to Beverly?”

Eyebrows raising, Bill looked down at it. “Ah, y-yeah! I’m not too far in…”

He risked his life for her. He’d never do that for you.

Stan’s breath got stuck in his throat, dread creeping up his body. It started at his stomach, making him feel sick, reaching his heart and making it race faster… Once it got to his face, he’d be screwed.

“…So, do you w-wanna write a section?”

His ears started working again, and his eyes refocused on his friend’s expectant face. It was routine—the other Losers would always write additions onto Ben and Bill’s letters. Stan enjoyed it; he and Beverly had a lot more in common than he thought. They liked some of the same music, same books…

They left you down there.

Sharply, he turned to look back down at his drawings, foot tapping. When had that started again? He’d thought he was over this.

“…No thanks.”

He didn’t see Bill’s face, but heard the surprise—and worry—in his voice. “O-Oh… Okay, you c-can later. If you want t-to.”

The only sound in Stan’s ears, for what felt like a few minutes, was the birds chirping, leaves rustling. Water splashing. Richie’s obnoxious laughter. Eddie’s clear voice, clear like a bell. He tried to focus on them, but his fingers only clenched his pencil harder.

Snap!

A hand touched his, and he reflexively relaxed his grip because it was Bill’s. The lead on his pencil was broken, and he swallowed—which took a surprising amount of effort—as Bill slowly unfolded his palm. The pencil fell onto the paper, and his hand followed Bill’s to the space between them.

Bill pulled his own sleeve down a bit further, and Stan latched onto it, rubbing small circles with his thumb into the cotton.

Clockwise. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight.

Counter-clockwise. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight.

It continued, and his heartrate slowed enough, his tapping and breathing slowed enough, that he raised his head. Mike was now competing with Ben for farthest skipped stone. He took a deep breath.

For the next thirty minutes he kept at it, and slowly the others left, shouting goodbyes and nodding to Stan’s smiles. Only Bill knew how bad it got, and Stan wanted to keep it that way.

Then, it was just them. There was always the “Do you want to talk about it?”, and like most times, Stan shook his head. But he did finally look at Bill, hoping his eyes would say enough to convey his gratitude. Bill smiled assuredly at him, and his heart jumped in a different way—not that he appreciated it any more this time.

After a few more minutes, they opted to slowly bike home. As they neared the neighborhood, Stan noticed Bill’s tensing expression. It wasn’t too much of a mystery, how his parents could be.

“You know you can stay over at my house, if you want? My mom will call your mom,” Stan offered, hoping to bring back some semblance of normalcy to this day. His friends didn’t need any more bad things happening to them.

“…Y-Yeah, I’d like that.”

  Thankfully, as Stan hoped, the rest of their day—dinner, homework, video games—was normal. It wasn’t until early the next day, 2 AM early, did he feel that same dread, turning into outright terror as he awoke from his nightmare with a gasp, eyes darting around the pitch-blackness of his room.

He heard it and his blood froze—muffled, jerking sobs.

Someone’s in your room, oh God—

It was Bill, he remembered, and a portion of his fear dissipated, only to be replaced with worry. Though his own hands were shaking, caught in fright at the fading image of that thing, coming closer, he got out of bed and approached where Bill lay on the futon.

“B-Bill…” His voice wasn’t calm in the slightest, but he didn’t care. He sat on the edge of the mattress, and Bill quickly rose up, a hand over his face.

As soon as other hand reached out, Stan scooted close and brought him into his arms, clutching the back of his shirt. He heard Bill mumble into his neck, “nightmare,” and they didn’t say anything else.

The dread didn’t fully disappear—in this world, he doubted it ever would. But sitting there in the dark, their arms around each other, he started to feel better.