#sigh art block hit me hard

[girltiger5000]

saw the original photo and had a primal instinct to draw it as what you see now before your eyes

[underthetree845]

chuuya taking his hat off to hide when he kisses his partner 🤭

Hello saturn lovely! Sorry this took me so long to finish TwT I love the prompt, but as you know writer's block hit me kinda hard the second semester of school so over the summer I've been trying to get back into the swing of posting once in a while!

Hope you enjoy <3 thank you for the request! _

Kiss Me Hard Before You Go

Nakahara Chuuya/Reader (oneshot request)

cws: fem! reader, established relationship, bungou stray dogs s5 spoilers, meursault arc spoilers, fluff, hurt/comfort kinda? there was a little hurt, reuniting, airport reunion, ada dazai, reader cries about 2.5k words summary: Chuuya disappeared on a business trip for three whole days with no explanation- and no one would tell you why. Now he's returned to japan and back in your arms. a/n: This is my last fic for the summer before school starts aaa qwq I'm glad I was able to finish it before the semester starts though! *sigh* am I really incapable of writing something like this without accidentally creating so much plot? Anyways, hope you enjoy! <3 divider credit: (x) (x) ‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹ Chuuya had never considered himself to be a very possessive man; or a possessive boyfriend, for that matter. Protective, sure, but how could anyone expect him not to be? He understood, probably better than most, the risks that came with even so much as associating with a person in his position. It made Chuuya’s stomach churn unpleasantly to even imagine putting you in any sort of danger, so he used his position (along with the power and assets that came with it) to take certain preventative measures. The penthouse you shared was equipped with state of the art security, a technological system truly fit for an executive of the Port Mafia. Additionally, in case you ever needed to travel long distances without him, Chuuya often kept a trusted chauffeur on call. This individual also happened to be a professionally trained underground bodyguard of his personal selection. Even so, Chuuya knew you had a good head on your shoulders. He trusted that you would try to keep yourself out of trouble, or call for him at the first sign of it. It didn’t matter if he was on the road, halfway through a private meeting, or in the middle of pummeling down an enemy organization. Chuuya had always been a man with his priorities set straight. Not even Mori’s notifications were set to come through on silent mode. Coming home to you at the end of the day, allowing you to soothe away the crease between his brows, your voice uttering sweet nothings against the shell of his ear. You had become his lifeline, irreversibly carved your name into every cell of his body. He’d do anything to erase your pain, and it was making his heart break more than anything to know that he was the cause of the salty tears now streaming over your lash line. Chuuya did his best to hold back an ‘oof’ when you threw your frame into his own, burying your sobs in the crook of his neck. He was immediately overwhelmed with the scent of your perfume, the familiar feeling of your body against his own, the softness of the sweater you wore, and the glimmer that never seemed to escape your eyes. The red colored contacts from earlier had given Chuuya one hell of a headache, which only added to the pressure from taking off and being stuck in one of the mafia’s smallest private jets with the most insufferable jackass he’d ever met and some hair dye obsessed casino manager passed out on one of the couches. Chuuya’s gloved fingers almost trembled as they gripped the fabric of your shirt. He lifted a hand to cradle the back of your head while the other remained planted firmly on your lower back.

Sakaguchi Ango, if Chuuya remembered correctly, stood a few yards away. He simply observed the situation from afar, as if he dared not insert himself into the scene. A government agent whom Dazai used to maintain his connection with the outside world. Ango stood with one hand folded neatly over the other behind his back, the faint ghost of a smile residing behind his glasses as he watched Dazai reunite with his fellow agency members. The brunette walked on a crutch, but the uncharacteristically tired look in his eyes brightened ever so slightly when he was swarmed by his coworkers. Chuuya continued to hold you close, patiently waiting for your sobs to die down enough for you to be able to speak coherently. He loosened his grip slightly, removing one of his leather gloves behind your back and bringing that same hand up to cup your face. A whisper of your name left his lips, and your teary eyes finally refocused to meet the warmth of his own. “Chuuya… how could you just leave?” your voice cracked; he could see the hurt in your eyes. Guilt crept into his chest, eyebrows knitting together as you subconsciously leaned into his palm. This was exactly the sort of thing Chuuya promised himself he’d never do. You were the absolute number one priority in his life. There was no doubt in his mind; he didn’t want there to be any doubt in yours either. “I know, Doll, ‘m sorry, it was never my intention…” he muttered, allowing you to rest your hands on his chest. “I know that’s a shit excuse, but I’ll make it up to you, I swear.” A beat of silence passed, the indistinct chatter of the agency fell on deaf ears as you zoned in on the man in front of you. His breath, the way his eyes searched your expression, how you could once again feel the warmth of his skin against your own. “You’re not hurt, are you?” your voice was pricked with concern, hands gentle as you cupped his jaw and turned his head from side to side. Chuuya let out a breath, fondness flickering in his irises at your concern. “Barely a scratch,” he murmured, and you seemed to accept his answer. “Chuuya,” you started, and his gaze locked onto yours. He voiced your name in response. “I need you to promise me something, please?” “Anything.” 

You bit your lip. Your mind told you it was a selfish request. You understood, probably better than most, how unpredictable your boyfriend’s line of work could be. But you had accepted it as an adequate price to pay for his love when the two of you started seeing each other, even more so when you moved in together. He was yours, you believed it with every fiber of your being. Chuuya had told enough stories of his old work partner for you to gather that the two had never exactly been the chummiest of pals. So the fact that they cooperated for this mission must’ve meant that it couldn’t have been a minor dilemma. You understood why Chuuya made the decision he did, and that it was probably just as difficult on him. Albeit, that didn’t make your feelings any less real. Your heart reminded you of the unconditional love and comfort that Chuuya always offered you. You knew he’d never intentionally hurt your feelings, especially not without talking it out and making up for it in some way afterward. “Doll…?” he barely breathed, giving you all the space you needed to voice what was on your mind. You took a deep breath. “Don’t… please don’t scare me like that again,” your voice wavered as you spoke, “Everything on the news is scary. And every time I watch it all I can think about is the fact that you’re out there.” You took a moment to glance at the group of Armed Detective Agency members on the airport runway to your left. One of the so-called terrorists you heard about on the news stood amongst the group about ten feet away from where you watched. The world was confusing, and scary, but there was a certain security in your heart that told you as long as you had Chuuya by your side, everything would be okay. “First you’re leaving before sunrise and staying out late on special missions, and I get it, I really do…” you felt a lump beginning to form in your throat, threatening to make you choke over your words, “but then you just leave on a business trip to Europe without so much as a ‘goodbye, I’ll be home soon’? And I have to find out from a call from your boss? I didn’t- I still don’t understand what’s happening. Do you know how scared I was? That I might not ever see you again?” Chuuya’s thumb swiped away the teardrop that ran down your cheek, his eyes trailing over your expression. “You’re right, it’s not fair… I don’t think I could ever apologize enough,” he began, his hold on you tightening slightly, “All that I can ask is for you to understand. I can explain everything to you when we get home. And I promise, I’ll do my best to not leave you in the dark so suddenly. It was an urgent mission, but it must have been scary. You’ll never have to feel like that again, not if I can help it.” Chuuya’s face softened, the corners of your lips curving up slightly at his sincerity as he cupped your cheek. “Shit… you deserve so much better.” You stood there for a moment, just breathing. Soaking in each other’s presence as your heartbeat gradually fell back to its usual pace.

“My my, Slug, is this the lovely lady you were so eager to get back to?” a voice chimed from your left, and you turned your head to face the man at the same time Chuuya snapped his head in that direction. Your boyfriend clicked his teeth, pressing your body closer to his own. “What’s it to you, huh, Dazai?” Chuuya was clearly trying to suppress his irritation. He was doing especially well, considering the fact that he had been holed up next to Dazai on an airplane for the past fourteen hours. “I’m just trying to acquaint myself,” the man went on, a grin playing on his lips despite Chuuya’s glare, “As a responsible owner, I should at least make sure my dog is in good hands.” You tilted your head slightly, and Chuuya sucked in a breath. “You’re treading on some pretty thin ice, Mackerel,” he growled through gritted teeth, “Watch what you say around my girl.” The taller man only took a step forward, his eyes glittering in amusement, a sharp contrast to the hollowed out, almost dead look he carried earlier. “Oh? Holding back your more vulgar language around the lady?” Dazai hummed with mild intrigue, “Perhaps my dog is being well taken care of.” You simply stood and watched with intrigue, the interaction clearly more complex than distinguishable at first glance. Despite their constant verbal jabs and ostentatious insults toward each other, there was a sense of familiarity between the two that was almost palpable to you. They bounced off each other, knowing exactly which buttons to press and which ones to avoid. It was probably a welcome change of tone in contrast to what they had just been through. Your gaze flickered between the two once more, and you couldn’t help but notice how the tension in Chuuya’s shoulders had been released. “Dazai-san?” your voice was level, and both of the men fell silent to give you their attention. You looked at your beloved, then to his ex-partner, then Chuuya, then Dazai again. Mirth swam in your eyes. “I want to thank you for making sure Chuuya was able to return home safely today. Truly, I cannot thank you enough.” You gave a slight bow of your head, and Chuuya looked like he wanted to protest. For once, Dazai didn’t immediately produce a response; he fell silent at your sentiment. This time, a gentler smile curved onto his lips. “Please spare me, Miss,” Dazai began, “Truth be told, I don’t believe I could have made it out without Chuuya’s help either.” The redhead raised his eyebrows. "I'm passing him into your capable hands now. I trust you’ll take good care of him?” Dazai seemed satisfied with the chuckle that slipped from your throat. “You have nothing to worry about,” you replied, “And I trust that your detective agency will treat you well?” “They always have.” Chuuya let out a breath, sharing a look with his partner before turning to face a black passenger vehicle that had pulled up a short distance away. Tinted windows that prevented anyone outside from peeking in; glass, body, and tires that were all bulletproof. It was one of the mafia’s. 

“C’mon Dollface, we should get going. Don’t wanna be here when the press shows up, and the boss is probably dying for me to give him a call,” Chuuya nodded his head in the direction of the car; you brought your hand up to give a small wave to Dazai and the handful of agency members further away who glanced in your direction. You let out a sigh you didn’t know you were holding in, allowing your head to rest on Chuuya’s shoulder as you made your way to the car. You felt like you could finally breathe properly again. The door unlocked with a quiet click. Chuuya swung open the door of the vehicle with his non gloved hand and stepped aside to allow you to enter first. “...Chuu?” you started quietly, taking a step closer to where he stood. “Hm?” he raised an eyebrow. You placed your hands loosely on the back of his neck, fingers intertwined; Chuuya responded by resting his hands on your hips, listening intently.  You could have held more of a grudge. He disappeared overnight without a word, and no one would tell you why. You’d been on edge for three days straight. Hardly even sleeping through the night as you kept up with the news almost obsessively, hoping to catch a glimpse of him. To be able to hold Chuuya close again so easily felt almost surreal. A soft smile creeped into your expression, the corners of your eyes crinkling as you tilted your head to the side. Chuuya’s breath stilled. “I’m just…” you paused for a moment, your voice pouring with sincerity, “I’m really glad you’re back, and that you’re safe.” Chuuya paused for another moment, studying you carefully as an equally tender look came to his face. He glanced to the side for a moment, and let out a disgruntled huff upon discovering that Dazai’s head was still tilted in your direction; he kept a curious eye on the situation from several meters away. Your boyfriend pursed his lips for a moment before snaking one of his hands further around your waist. He plucked his pork pie hat off the crown of his head, and before you had the chance to realize what was going on, you were already being gracefully tilted backwards, forcing your hands to grip onto the lapel of Chuuya’s jacket for support. Everything seemed to still the moment he slotted his lips into yours, holding his hat up to act as a shield from certain prying eyes. You didn’t hesitate to pull him in closer, your lashes fluttering shut as you savored what you felt like you had been missing for an eternity. Chuuya’s eyes were shut in concentration, his heart thrumming with delight at the familiar sensation of your lips molded against his own. Chuuya didn’t pull away until you were both light-headed from the lack of air. Cheeks flooded with warmth, looking at each other as if you were the only two people in the entire world. “I missed you so fucking much, you know that?” Chuuya’s voice was low as he brushed his thumb over your cheek. The two of you stood straight, lingering in each other’s embrace for a moment longer. Chuuya lightly tossed his hat inside the car and once more gestured with his arm out for you to enter first. The satisfied smile on his lips morphed into one of slight perplexion when you didn’t show a reaction, raising your fingertips to brush over your lips. “Chuuya?” you questioned, and his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. He replied with your name, all the more puzzled when you let out an incredulous chuckle. “Since when are your teeth so sharp?” 

‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹ a/n: Thank you so much for reading! Have a day/night/morning/evening as lovely as yourself. tagging: @judasgot-it (I noticed that I wrote down that I agreed to tag you for chuuya fics but I can't seem to remember why?? TwT please tell me if this is incorrect! Thank you <3)

[scarletlizzard]

Part 2: Remembering

Sessions Series

Pairing: psychiatrist Wanda x female reader

Tags Minors DNI: therapy, paranoia, mentions of mental illness, stalker, little cigarettes and drinking at the end

Masterlist

Current Fall 2018

"How did you sleep?" Wanda asks as she sits in front of you. You shrug, putting your hands in the pocket of your hoodie.

"Not too great. I uh, I sometimes have these dreams. Nightmares really, about that night." You swallow hard and look at the breathtaking woman in front of you. Even casual, in a yellow sweater and jeans, she would always be the most beautiful woman in the room. You blush at your own thoughts.

"You said you don't remember everything about that night?" She asks, you nod. "I believe you're blocking it out, mentally. Suppressing a trauma so hard you can't get yourself to open back up about it."

"So you believe me?"

"Of course, I believe you." Her tone is wavering.

"Every time I have one of these dreams, it reveals little pieces to me," you lean forward. "Maybe I can remember who it was, or more about them."

"But they were wearing a mask?" Wanda asks, making a note. You nod.

"They spoke to me, though.. I'm not sure. Sometimes they feel so close," you sigh, shaking your head. Wanda is still writing.

"And what did your shadow say to you?"

"They told me to run."

Wanda is silent for a moment, her eyes searching yours for something. Did she really believe you? When she had a list of your mental disorders and police forms at her fingertips?

"When your shadow told you to run," She stands and looks to the fire that was burning behind her in the fireplace. Her hands held behind her back. "What did you feel in the moment? What was your first thought?"

"I-I didn't know what to feel. Panic? Fear?" Your cheeks heat up, as you think back to the haunting voice. You were almost too embarrassed to speak. "But after, after the fear sunk in it felt.. exhilarating."

Wanda smiles at the fire, her back still to you. "So in your fear you felt, excitement. For what, why?" She asks thoughtfully, and you're thankful she still had her back to you.

You had thought about this a long time, every day. Why? "My life is the same, every day. The routines, the job, the same bottle of wine. Everything. You know I used to paint?" You ask Wanda. She turns to look at you.

"Really?" She asks with a smile, sitting back down.

"I had some work in an art gallery actually, in the city. Back when I felt.. more alive," you sigh again, looking into her emerald eyes.

"What made you stop?"

"My mom got sick, I had to take care of her. Then she died and I moved here and.. things were never the same."

"Your OCD intensified, essentially trapping yourself in your daily routines."

"That's how it feels, yes," you reply with a nod. Wanda reaches her hand out to rest on your knee. Your skin ignites under her touch.

"We'll bring you back," Wandas words are sure, you find yourself resting your hand on top of hers.

***

Summer 2017

You ran throughout your house, footsteps following close behind you. Before you can close the door to your bedroom, a strong hand reaches out, hitting the wood hard and swinging it wide open. You fall to the ground, heart racing, chest moving rapidly as you crawl backwards. Your shadow steps closer, taking 4 heavy steps towards you.

Another head tilt down at you, examining you. Behind the mask, under the hood, red strands of hair peak out.

***

Current Fall 2018

You stared at the brunette in front of you, a playful glint in her eye. "What?" She asks, leaning forward.

It had been a couple of weeks since your sessions with Wanda had started. Your anxiety had taken a backseat, and the compulsive thoughts in your head were easing. The two of you had even been flirting back and forth even, lingering stares and touches.

Wanda knew it was unprofessional. You knew it wasn't right. But neither of you couldn't help it. Each time she touched you, you felt your skin ignite. Each crooked smile ran up your spine with a shiver of pleasure. You look at her hands and count 4 rings between the two of them.

"Nothing, I really shouldn't say," you chuckle to yourself and sit back against the couch. Wanda grins, twirling one of the rings on her finger.

"No point in being shy now, Y/N. We practically know each others whole lives at this point," She says casually and mirrors you, leaning back in her chair. You think about her words.

"Actually, I don't know much about you, Wanda. I mean, I know some details, but you seem to have the upper hand."

She chuckles and lifts out a hand as if offering to you, "Ask away."

"Where are you from? I notice on some of your words, there's an accent." There's a blush on your face as you think of the way she says your name, her tongue sharp.

"Ah, you caught that, huh? I was born in Sokovia. I've lived here most of my life, though, the American accent kind of snuck in," Wanda thinks fondly of her home, it makes you smile.

"Do you visit often?"

"Not as much as I'd like. Last year, I had to go home for quite a while to help out my brother, Pietro. He got himself into some trouble," Wanda sighs and shakes her head. "We're twins," she smiles.

"Twins! Wow, I'd love to see a picture of the two of you sometime." You think of Wanda being a twin, not being able to imagine he was anything like her. She nods and crosses her legs.

"I'll see if I can find one for your next session," She says with a smile. You nod and smile back politelty.

"What did you do before all this?" You ask her and point to the room around you.

"I lived in the city for a while, actually. But I found something more... worthwhile here." Wanda grins, goosebumps on your arm arise.

There's a comfortable silence, and the fire behind her crackles softly.

"Tell me more about your art," Wanda says, a glimmer in her eye and a warm smile on her face.

"I wasn't good, by any means. But I wasn't bad. I was creative, if anything," you laugh as you think back to your paintings. "There is one hung still, I think, at the gallery I told you about. It's my favorite one. My last one."

"What was it?"

You find yourself laughing hysterically as you think of the painting, leaving Wanda confused. She leans forward to rest a hand on your knee.

You start to sob at her touch.

You think of the large painting that hangs in a gallery. People passing by not realizing it would foreshadow your own current state.

"It's of a beautiful woman.." You speak between cries.

"A woman running from her own shadow."

***

Summer 2017

"What do you want from me? Just leave me alone!" You shout at the figure standing above you, watching as they shake their head.

The shadow kneels down, a gloved hand reaching up to brush their thumb across your lips. Their eyes are hidden behind the white faceless mask, yet you can feel their gaze burning into you.

A spark of adrenaline and excitement fill your own.

"Game on," your shadow says.

***

Current Winter 2018

You awoke quickly in sweat covered sheets, thunder rumbling from outside. You rub your groggy eyes and reach for the nightstand to flick on the lamp. Your hand reaches for the notebook and pen you kept for this reason, and you began writing down your dream.

They were happening more frequently now. The details are becoming clearer each time. You had never felt so close. You were closing in on your shadow.

Yet, everything felt wrong. There was something you were missing. You read and re read the journal the rest of the night.

"How are things going with Wanda?" Natasha asks over lunch. She had invited you out today, hoping to hear some good news.

"Pretty great, actually," you smile at her, not telling her that you were still chasing your shadow. "I've actually started painting again." You look outside the window of the Cafe, seeing snow begin to fall.

"Have you really?" Natasha says in disbelief, but a smile on her face. "I knew this would be good for you! Almost two months and look at the progress you've made.." She beams at you, a guilty feeling rising inside of you.

"I'm having my Christmas party early this year, I'm going to spend actual Christmas at Yelenas this year. You'll be able to come, right?"

"Of course, I wouldn't miss it," you smile, counting 4 snowflakes land on the window.

As you walk home from lunch, the snow beneath your feet crunches with every step. You wrap your arms around yourself, wishing you had worn a warmer jacket, when suddenly you're aware of another set of steps from behind you.

You freeze, standing still. You inhale deeply, then exhale, and slowly turn around... to nothing. Empty air besides the light snow that stuck to the ground below.

Your hand reaches for your phone, dialing Wandas number. "Hello?" She answers on the 4th ring.

"Wanda.. can I come see you?"

"Do you need me to meet you somewhere?"

You look around, still seeing no one.

"No, I'll come to you."

You finish the walk home and grab your notebook and a warmer jacket before driving over to Wandas. When you get there, she's standing on the porch waving to you.

"Y/N, is everything okay?" She asks worridly, putting her arm around you and leading you into the warmth of her home. Wanda gets a fire going and watches as you sit on the floor in front of it. Instead of questioning it, she sits next to you, her warm body pressed next to you.

"What if it isn't real?" You finally admit, staring into the red and orange flames.

"What if what isn't real?" Wanda asks, looking at the notebook you clutched to your chest.

"My shadow," you whisper, feeling Wandas hand on your back. "You told me you believed me.. what do you believe?"

There is a silence between the two of you while Wanda sighs. She knew you would eventually ask this question.

"I believe that the mind is an extremely powerful thing. It's capable of persuasion and delusions. It can hide the truth from you.." she trails off, tears fall from your eyes.

She didn't believe your shadow was real.

"You believe... that I believe it's real. Right?" You ask and turn to her. Wanda nods slowly.

All this time spent chasing and running, you were tired. How many innocent people would have to get hurt before you gave up? How many more lies would you have to tell yourself and others?

You held out the notebook to Wanda. Her fingers brush against yours as she takes it from you and opens it up.

"My dreams, of a faceless shadow. That's all it is anymore. I'm done chasing it."

The rest of November passes quickly into December. You were back to your routine, ignoring the paranoid delusions of your mind. You continued your sessions with Wanda, trying to figure out why you had imagined up this person. You took medication. You still locked all the doors and windows. You painted. You dreamed.

***

Summer 2017

When the words came out of your shadows' mouth, you lift your leg, kicking them hard in the stomach and onto their back. You're able to run past them into the hallway, but you're quickly knocked down. Your shadow climbs on top of you, pinning your hands to the floor and straddling your stomach.

The two of you breathe heavily, adrenaline coursing your veins. "Such a pretty little mouse.." The shadow whispers.

***

Winter 2018

The party has long started by the time you walk in, a bottle of rum in your hand. The house is filled with familiar and unfamiliar faces. People in ugly Christmas sweaters, some in just red or green. You look for Natasha and wish her a Happy Christmas, along with a hug.

"I brought rum," you smile, holding up the bottle.

"Yes! Ugh, you know this is my favorite thank you," she laughs and hugs you again, clearly has already had a few. You decide to catch up with her, taking a few shots and pouring a cup of rum. After a while, the cup is empty, and you find yourself sweating in the heated house, filled with warm bodies.

"I'm gonna step outside," you say to Natasha, who is all but preoccupied with the girl in her lap.

You step out front, sighing in relief as the frigid air hits your skin.

"Alright, there?" A voice sounds, you turn to see Wanda standing in the driveway, leaning against her car. "Nasty habit, I know. I usually only smoke when I drink." She holds up the cigarette, letting out a puff of smoke.

You walk over, soaking in her appearance. "I'm alright.. alcohol goes straight to my head," You chuckle and stand in front of her. The alcohol also boldening you to reach out and take the cigarette from her, putting it between your lips. Wanda watches with playful eyes, putting a hand in her pocket. You take a slow drag, blowing into the air between you and handing it back to her.

Wanda wets her lips, shaking her head as she takes it back from you. "You're something else, you know that?" She says in a husky voice. You can smell a hint of vodka and mint coming from her as she leans closer. Your hands rest on her chest, tugging on her jacket. A familiar excitement swells in your chest.

The cigarette is tossed into the wet snow, her hands moving to wrap around your lower back. "I'm probably crazy," you whisper to her, a smirk on your face. Wanda chuckles and leans closer.

"I can deal with crazy," She whispers back, taking your bottom lip in between her teeth. Your blood runs hot, and you let out a small moan at the feeling. Wanda wastes no time connecting her lips to yours, both of you in familiar territory as your tongues sloppily twist together. Her grip is stronger than you remember as she pulls you against her chest.

"Your place?" You mumble into the kiss, not wanting to fully part. Wands hums and continues to kiss you. You feel her lips pull up into another crooked smile.

"Let's go," Wanda says after she finally pulls herself away from your lips, her green eyes darker than you had ever seen them before.

Goosebumps cover your skin. Everything in your body tells you to run. The feeling of your shadow was looming over the two of you.

You look to the house, then to the gorgeous brunette in front of you. There was no doubt in your mind that you would be going home with her.

[insomniac-djmm]

Omg I saw that you accepted my request! Thank you so much :3. Soo I have another BATIM ask for sammy x reader (he’s my favorite) Sammy x artist reader? They can just draw casually or be an art department person or anything else I don’t mind

(btw I love your writing style so much!)

A Musical Muse: Sammy Lawrence X Artist! Reader

Summary: Sammy's lover has always had a knack for creating things, especially pictures. After a while of art block, they find inspiration in the man closest to them.

Character: Sammy Lawrence - Bendy and the Ink Machine franchise

Warnings: None! :)

Genre: Fluff

Author's Note: Thank you so much for your request, I really appreciate it! I absolutely LOVE writing for Sammy, he's got to be one of my all-time favorite characters! Thank you so, so, so much for the compliment on my writing style, by the way! It means so much to me! I hate to say it, but I did put this off until two days ago and did it during an all-nighter, so it's gonna be short and sweet, sorry :( I wanted it to be a bit longer, but I wrote the last sentence and thought that was a sweet way to end it :)Merry Christmas, and happy holidays!

Word Count: 509 words

"Uugghhh..." Y/N groaned, falling back onto their bed, holding their sketchbook and pencil in the air. For almost a month now, they would sit down with snacks and their art supplies, ready to draw, but the moment they picked up their pencil...

Nothing.

Their brain came up with nothing.

No matter how hard they tried, they couldn't think of a single thing they wanted to or felt like drawing. Either that, or they got side-tracked. "Curse you, art block..." They groaned, letting their arms flop down beside them.

"Art block?" Sammy spoke up, having just then walked into their room. It was one of those rare occasions when Joey let him actually leave the studio instead of staying in the Artists' Rest, which was a good thing because he hardly got any sleep in there anyways, and it gave him more time with his darling.

"Goodness, it's a horrible thing." Sammy winced, recalling his own episodes of experiencing art block. When you do creative work for a living, art block is the last thing you want to experience, and Sammy had his fair share of scuffs with the involuntary lack of creativity.

"Yeah... Got it right now." Y/N sighed, sitting up now as their legs dangled off of the edge of their bed. "That was rather apparent." Sammy chuckled, making his observation clear.

"I just... Ugh! I wanna draw something, but I can't think of anything at all!" They exclaimed, the frustration clear in their voice.

"I'm sure you just need to give it some time." Their lover offered a smile. "It usually clears up on its own." "Sammy, it's been a month now-"

"Oh-"

He took a moment, pausing. "Well, my dear, have you not yet come across something, perhaps... Particularly inspiring? Something that would get your mind going again?" He asked. "Perhaps revisiting a source of media you enjoy could get you back into it." Y/N paused, nodding. "Yeah, maybe." They glanced to their sketchbook before looking back to Sammy.

Maybe it was the way the artificial light from the overhead lamp hit his eyes, his patient smile, his soft hair. Maybe it was what he said about finding a source of inspiration.

Either way, they'd just found their source of inspiration, and it was him.

They smiled, and Sammy gave them a curious sort of expression.

"Actually... Would you mind if I drew you?" They asked, picking up their paper and pencil. "I wouldn't mind at all, dear." Sammy chuckled, feeling a bit flattered that his darling would project such creativity onto a piece of his likeness.

"That's great because you're gonna be there for a bit." They laughed.

"Oh!" He chuckled, shaking his head with amusement.

And for about 30 minutes he sat there as Y/N sketched his likeness onto their paper. The curve of his smile, the glow of his eyes, and the warmth he made them feel - they projected it all into their work.

After all, you know what they say.

Drawings are the love language of an artist.

[fantasyandshit]

My girl

Pairing: Nesta x fem!reader

Type: Request oneshot

Based on this request

Masterlist here

———

A/n- I want to apologize for my absence, life has been very busy recently and I’ve had some serious writers block. But I’m back and gonna try really hard to get back into the groove of everything.

I adjust the neckline of my dark blue dress as I stare in the mirror attached to Nesta and I’s room. The dress is absolutely gorgeous, hugging my curves in all the right places, it’s a halter top, wrapping up and around my neck….but it’s just very…revealing. The neckline dips down to the base of my ribs, and a slit runs up each side, up to the top of my thighs. Nothing is left to the imagination as even the back is non existent. I feel bare to the world.

Finally, after a few more moments, I leave our room, making my way to the stairs. As I reach the top of the stairs case I pause for a moment, peaking behind a wall to see all of my family waiting for me, conversing with one another. They are al stunning as usual, dressed in blacks, deep purples and dark blues.

But Nesta

Fuck

Nesta looks drop dead fucking gorgeous. She wears a sparkling black dress, similar in stile to mine, however it’s only got one slit going up her right leg, stopping up her hip, something in me stirs at that- she’s mine and basically on full display. I let it go, my eyes catching on the swell of her breasts, partially visible due to the deep v-neck cut, a gold chain connecting the two sides.

I take another deep breath before finally stepping out from my hiding spot, slowly stepping down the stairs. “You look amazing Yn.”

“Thank you Rhys.”

As I meet the bottom of the stairs I turn to my mate, “You look absolutely divine my love.” Nesta voice is as smooth as velvet, traveling to my ears like a Melodie in the night. I reach forward, my hands meeting her hips.

“Have you looked in a mirror lately? You look like the prized piece of art in a museum, like the night sky and a field of flowers in the spring. You’re gorgeous darling.”

She smiles, her lips meeting mine softly, “you’ve always had your way with words haven’t you dove.” I smile at this, she’s always been quite the flirt.

“Ok love birds can we get going now?” We, begrudgingly, separate. Mor and Nesta take my hand, Feyre taking Rhys’ and cassian, and Amren taking Azriel’s, the three of us winnowing everyone to the autumn court.

Eris had officially become high lord, filling killing of Beron, and that meant a celebration had to be held. We land in the middle of the ball room, making an entrance as always.

“Ah Rhysand. You finally made it!” Eris throws his hands out in greeting, stepping down the dais to meet us. He shakes hands with everyone, all of us bowing to each other. “Well, enjoy. There’s wine and music, food and entertainment. The night is young and,” he pauses, turning up and projecting his voice for all to hear, “We. Are. Free!” I’ve never seen the young lord so care free, but it seems that with the burden of his father gone from the court, the air is clearer, the leaves brighter and the lights blinding.

Everyone cheers, high lords from every court, their guests, and the whole of the autumn court here to celebrate the new ruler.

Nesta wraps a hand around my waist, keeping me to her side as we mingle about the ball.

After some time, I decide to grab myself and my mate a glass of wine, I tap her as she speaks to a young female from winter and she turns her head to me. “I’m going to go grab us some drinks. I’ll be right back ok.”

She hesitates for a moment before sighing, releasing her hold on me, “ok. But be careful.”

I chuckle softly, nodding before reaching up to give her a kiss. I make my way to the bar, a soft smile planted on my lips as I wait for the bartender to get our drinks poured.

“Well hello there pretty lady.” A slimy voice hits me as a hand comes to my ass.

I spin, slapping the male across the face, “Get the hell off of me!”

“Oh come on. Don’t be such a brat. I just wanna have some fun.” He’s smirking, one hand rubbing the red molar I’ve left on his cheek.

“No. You’re a fucking creep, get the fuck away from me. My mate will be over here, and she won’t be so kind as to simply slap you across your greasy face. Do you understand?”

He chuckles a disgusting, wheezing laugh before moving back to trying to grab me, “Ooh, so two females, I can’t wait.”

Just then, he’s ripped from me, thrown to the floor. The music stops as he yelps. “You leave my mate alone. Do you understand, if you do not stay the hell. Away. From my mate. I will personally people the flesh from your bones and burn you slowly on a spick.”

He gulps, looking as if he’s about to cry as he nods frantically. Just then, Eris and two guards come forward, dragging him from the hall.

“I am so sorry ladies. He will be properly dealt with. I will make sure of it.”

I nod softly, “thank you Eris.”

I swear I hear a hiss leave Nesta, her hand finds its old place around me, “we’re leaving, take us home please darling.”

I nod softly, winnowing the two of us to the house of wind.”

Even after we land, Nesta refuses to let me go, fuming. “Nesta. Nesta it’s ok. Everything is ok.”

“No. No. Nothing is ok. His hands were on you. He touched you. He touched you and your mine.” She looks at me with furrowed brows and pinched lips.

“It’s ok now. You protected me. You got me out. It’s ok now.” I hug her tightly, kissing her softly as her hands relax in my hips. “It’s ok.” I breathe out.

—————

Sooo how was it for my first Nesta fic? I hope I did ok!

Love y’all, thanks for reading!

[penny00dreadful]

Part 3

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 4] [AO3] [Art]

“You could make a break for it?”

Steve looked up from his papers, glasses perched on the end of his nose, his writing desk balancing on his lap as they bounced along the forest floor in the Harrington carriage.

They’d been travelling for nearly a week and they were due to reach the border between the kingdoms tomorrow. Hopper had let them know that they were on the last stretch and as such, there would be no town or village able to accommodate them in between the one they had just left and when they hit the border, so they would be camping out tonight.

Steve didn’t mind much. It reminded him of his nights spent with Robin ‘camping out’ in the royal gardens inside the castle walls as a child.

And just like it had been when he was a child, Hopper would be there watching over them.

He wasn’t worried about bandits or wild animals. Steve had his personal household guard with him, along with Hopper and the sheer number of people travelling, it meant that a bandit party hoping to take them would need to be the size of a small army. 

An extremely unlikely circumstance.

Even more unlikely was Steve’s escape as proposed by Robin.

“Oh yes.” Steve huffed, turning his eyes back down to his papers, matters of state and finance that still needed to be answered, “I’ll just run off on my own into the woods, after creeping past Hopper who has eyes in the back of his head and then go… where?” He dipped his quill back into his inkwell. “Do you expect me to return home on foot, safe and sound and welcomed after running from an arranged marriage I agreed to?”

He finally looked back up at her, but Robin’s expression hadn’t changed.

“You wouldn’t be alone.” She said simply, as if that solved all of the issues he had laid out.

“So you’d be riding into battle with me when we inevitably go to war with Stoirmeach over this slight?”

She scoffed. “Obviously.”

“Robbie.” Steve sighed, pulling his glasses off. “It’s happening. I don’t know what else you want me to do.”

“But you could’ve asked for more time. Gone out to find your true love like in all the stories.”

“What time, Robin? We both know my fathers excess is going to put him into an early grave. The physicians told him to stop drinking and going to the brothel years ago. And he hasn’t. He’s either going to keel over on top of some poor woman at The Garden or he’s gonna topple off his horse and spear himself with his own sword because he still goes out on hunts steaming drunk like he has the constitution of an eighteen year old. And that's if he doesn't catch the Lovers Rot first. There’s no time for me to go on adventures to find my one true love.” Steve groused, his quill scratching on the paper. “Trying at this stage would put the kingdom in jeopardy and I won’t do that. It’s all I have to show for my life.”

“Not all.”

“Oh really?” Steve underlined a section hard. Probably harder than he needed to. “What else do I have?”

“You have me.” She replied, blinking across at him with those big eyes of hers. “You have the kids. You have your own self worth?”

Steve just scoffed and muttered, self worth.

“I’ll still have self worth married, Robin.”

“Or you could have refused.”

“No, I couldn’t have. You know that. I’m not jumping out of the carriage, or disguising myself as a barmaid or sneaking past Hopper in the dead of night or whatever else you’ve suggested to me in the past week. I’m marrying Christine and I need you with me in this.” He dropped his quill and reached over to take her hand in his, squeezing. “I need you. Okay?”

Her mouth was still set in a frown but she nodded, squeezing back.

“Okay.”

The carriage creaked to a stop in the middle of a clearing, surrounded by trees on all sides, blocking out the horizon.

Steve looked out of the window, spying soldiers in Stoirmeach colours, red capes over dark silvery armour, black tunics underneath. They nearly blended into the background of the large and imposing tent, carefully placed, straddling the border between their two kingdoms, draped in the Cunningham colours of black and red.

It was clear the design of their armour was intended to be intimidating and while Steve had the protections of being a crowned prince hanging over his head along with his own combat training and Hopper to back him up… the intimidation was working.

He was intimidated.

Etiquette would dictate a mix of the two colours. The Cunningham’s black and red and the Harrington’s green and white.

The lack of the Harrington colours was a message, a subtle dig and it left a bit of a sour taste in Steve’s mouth. 

Not off to the best start, if the Cunninghams didn’t even consider them worthy of equal representation.

But still, they were providing Steve and his company with all the amenities they could want while out in the middle of nowhere, so complaining would make him seem awfully petty.

And petty probably wasn’t a great way to start off their marriage.

The Stoirmeach soldiers and staff were already starting to subtly crane to look into the carriage, anticipation crackling through the atmosphere, everyone no doubt eager to see what this Torthúil Prince would look like.

Steve pushed himself back, hiding away from the window.

“It’s muddy out there.” He muttered.

“So?” Robin looked at him, bewildered. 

“So I’m going to get my boots muddy.”

“Oh, like you weren’t out making mud pies with Holly a few days before we left—”

“No, Rob.” Steve floundered, shaking his leg. “These were embroidered by the Hollands! They took a lot of time and effort—”

“You’re stalling.”

He swallowed, raising his eyes up from the intricate and colourful stitching along the top edge of his raised boot.

“Okay, yes. I’m stalling but I’m not wrong.”

“You’re not wrong but you can’t hide in here forever.” Robin jabbed him in the shoulder, messing up his perfectly seated embroidered doublet over his neatly placed and intricately designed crisp white blouse.

“You didn’t even want this!” Steve snapped back, adjusting himself and the gold circlet around his head.

Robin just cocked an eyebrow at him and all of his fussing.

“Okay, fine.” He huffed. “But I'm cleaning them afterwards!”

Robin just patted him on the head then turned to look out of the carriage window herself.

Steve could see her eyeing up the hosting tent. There were various smaller ones scattered around making it clear the Cunningham retinue had been here for a while already, getting things set up.

But the hosting tent, the one straddling the border, was the biggest. About as big as his bedroom back home and where he would meet his future queen for the first time. 

Robin’s face had pulled down into a small frown before she looked back to him and gave him a nod.

Whether he could be petty or not about the colour choices, it didn’t matter.

She’d handle the petty for him. 

She always did whenever he was chained down by expectations of politeness and etiquette.

“You ready?” She asked, adjusting the strap of her cape around her shoulders and watching with wary eyes as the Stoirmeach house guard began to mingle with the Torthúil soldiers in their bright polished silver armour, green capes and white tunics. 

The contrast between the two kingdoms was stark and Steve just hoped that wasn’t reflected between himself and Christine. 

The interactions were all polite but with an undercurrent of tension.

The future of two kingdoms was riding on this marriage after all.

Steve buttoned his own cape on, attached at the shoulders. This was a very important political meeting for all intents and purposes. They needed to look their best.

“As ready as I’ll ever be.” He smoothed the hair around his circlet ensuring it fell just right, squared his shoulders and swung the carriage door open.

A short hush fell over the clearing as he stepped out into the mud, feeling it squelch up around his boot with an internal grimace, but he didn’t let it show on his face.

His whole body wanted to stiffen up, to curl back in on himself under the gaze of so many unfamiliar eyes. The entrance of the host tent seemed to stare at him too, opened wide, held back by decorative corded red rope.

Steve kept his back straight as some whispers started up around him.

Appraising him. 

He wasn’t blind to the looks of surprise and appreciation he received. These kinds of marriage arrangements usually took place between soon to be monarchs or nobility that either didn’t have other options or were a bit too old to be sought out at court, after all.

Meaning it was usually crotchety old men who were constantly either scowling or staring a little too intensely at young women.

Steve was an outlier.

He was a best case scenario.

He was young, he was handsome, he was fit and skilled and strong and he believed he was kind.

At least Christine was close in age to him.

The idea of being betrothed to anyone too young made his skin crawl.

The Stoirmeach retinue gestured him forward with polite smiles and sweeping hands. Towards the looming main tent, intimidating and life changing.

Steve found himself wishing for the bright forests, colourful Rainbow Sea and rolling hills of the Harrington kingdom all of a sudden, their colours chosen to represent the beautiful nature they boasted. 

Green hills and fluffy white clouds.

He wasn’t sure what the symbolism was behind the black and red but he suspected it was aggressive. 

Metal and blood, something in the back of his mind told him.

His father had always scoffed at their green and white.

He thought the choices made by the first of the Harrington monarchs, Virginia Harrington and her Queen Vita, were always too poetic.

But Steve liked them.

They felt… genuine.

He could feel Robin at his back as he squelched towards the tent, puffed up like a guard dog, ready to defend his honour at the quickest slight.

The darkness swallowed them, but as the stain of sunlight left his eyes he realised that there was light in here. Small lamps dotted on plinths and a large lantern hanging from a draped velvety ceiling.

It was all far more… opulent than Steve had been expecting for the middle of the forest.

He hoped Christine wasn’t as severe as her kingdom's colours suggested. He didn’t know how he would handle a marriage to someone like that. 

Someone serious and brooding and aggressive and… and… frowny.

The opened entrance to the tent was mirrored on the other side, revealing the Stoirmeach land, looking almost identical to the Torthúil side, the forest not caring about which kingdom it was growing on, just growing regardless.

There were sectioned off chambers to Steve’s right, what he had to assume were going to be their sleeping quarters for the night and to his left—

Oh.

In amongst sumptuous velvet couches and the rich dark wooden tables piled high with the Cunningham's local fruit and vegetables as well as a platter of the most meticulously preserved and presented seafood, was a bright spot shining in all the dark

His mouth nearly dropped open in surprise.

A petite, blonde, pretty thing with a bright but crooked smile that didn’t quite hide her nerves.

Steve was immediately endeared. 

Robin was behind him, supporting him, bolstering him, Hopper and Lucas were outside the tent, no doubt keeping a sharp eye out for anything that might be wrong, his kids were at home, waiting for him to return, his kingdom was depending on him.

He could do this.

Steve turned towards Christine, her hands folded delicately in front of her and he flashed her a smile, not quite his full, most charming smile, but instead something softer. A little gentler.

Christine responded in kind as he stepped closer, her own smile a touch more nervous but no less soft. 

He held a hand out to her, grasping gently when she delicately slipped her fingers to his palm.

“Lovely to meet you, Christine.” Steve said, bowing his head, placing a kiss across her knuckles.

“Chrissy, please.” She replied, her voice a light tinkle. “Lovely to meet you too, Steven.”

Her accent was light but lilting, soft and swooping around the vowels.

“Steve.” He replied in kind, straightening up, her hand still held softly in his.

Maybe this wouldn’t be such a lost cause.

“And I’m Eddie.” A deep voice rumbled from behind Chrissy’s shoulder, shrouded in the shadows, almost invisible.

Steve jumped back as a man leaned forward, face illuminated by the lanterns like a spectre, plump lips pulled wide over a sharp grin, dark curls spilling around his face and eyes so brown they were almost black, glittering with mirth, obviously enjoying Steve’s surprise.

Chrissy’s mouth turned down into a small frown and she whipped a hand back to smack him on the leg,a small movement that he had probably thought would be mostly hidden, but Steve caught it.

Eddie’s manic grin didn’t drop, he didn’t move from his lean, he didn’t take his eyes off Steve.

He didn’t react at all, barely paying her any attention.

He practically just ignored the eldest in the Cunningham line. Princess Christine. Chrissy. Who had smacked him across the leg. 

And Eddie ignored her. 

Eddie held his own hand out in much the same way Chrissy had, expectant, with a challenging glitter in his eyes. Chrissy grimaced next to him, glancing up apologetically at Steve, like she was waiting for him to snap about it.

“My advisor.” She muttered.

Was this guy trying to make Steve uncomfortable?

Was he assuming Steve would grab his hand for a firm shake or recoil at the idea of even touching someone who wasn’t nobility?

Well, the joke was on him.

Steve was an equal opportunist.

And he never backed down from a challenge like that.

Steve grasped Eddie’s black gloved hand in his and ducked to press his lips softly against his knuckles. He blinked up at him under his lashes before straightening up again.

“Steve.” He grinned, dropping Eddie’s hand and his grin widened when Eddie’s mouth dropped open ever so slightly in surprise.

“And this,” Steve gestured behind him, “is Robin. My-”

“Lovely colour scheme you’ve got here.” Robin cut over him. “Could use some green though.” She was glaring around at the blacks and the reds draped around them, a scowl painted over her face.

“My advisor.” Steve sighed out, letting his hand drop to his hip while he tried to shoot her a disapproving glare.

Robin didn’t even deign to look at him, paid him no attention at all, just kept glaring at Eddie.

“Well, speaking advisor to advisor,” Eddie tilted himself around Chrissy until he had stepped in front of Robin, matching her crossed arms and her scowl, “there’s nothing wrong with a little national pride.”

His accent was harsher, but more melodic, rhotic and rolling his r’s.  

“There’s nothing wrong with a little common courtesy either. A little etiquette maybe?” She snapped back, baring her teeth, ready to bite.

Eddie sighed at her, cocking a hip out, condescending. “We figured seeing as Chrissy is soon to be swept away from her homeland forever, as much familiarity as she could get wouldn’t kill you to accommodate.”

“Eddie.” Chrissy hissed at him, shooting wide panicked eyes between him and Steve.

“What are we? Barbarians?” Robin nearly screeched, throwing her arms out. “We’re not gonna ban her from seeing her family colours ever again! We’re not gonna lock her up in a tower until she’s needed for baby making purposes-”

“Robin, oh my god.” Steve hid his red face in his hands, peeking through his fingers to see Chrissy looking equally as embarrassed and he knew, he knew that Robin was on a roll now and nothing would be able to stop her any time soon.

And if his suspicions were correct, Eddie seemed like he would rival her energy.

He glanced back down at Chrissy who looked like she wanted to sink into a hole in the ground.

RIght. It seemed like they already had something in common.

Being lovingly defended by two extremely strong willed and extremely dedicated advisors.

Lowering his hands from his face, he waited for her to glance his way again and held his elbow out to her.

“I think we’d be better off leaving them to it. Do you want to take a walk with me, Chrissy?” He asked, nodding over to the opposite end of the tent, which was open out to the Stoirmeach forest. Guards from both sides would be there, so they wouldn’t be alone but they’d be away from the two hot heads, still arguing.

The look of relief that came over her face when she realised he wasn’t going to take Robin and Eddie’s attitudes out on her was almost enough to break his heart.

She curled her hand around his elbow and they both snuck away, sharing little secret smiles and a light giggle between them as both Robin and Eddie stayed completely wrapped up in each other, neither of them aware of their escape.

They didn’t speak for a few moments, strolling easily around the barrier of trees, Chrissy’s arm nestled comfortably in his, under the watchful eyes of guards from both sides. They glanced across at the tent when a particularly shrill cry rang out and then back at each other, sharing another short laugh and a smile.

“Is he going to be okay in there? With your… Robin?” Chrissy grinned up at him.

“Oh yeah,” Steve nodded, “He seems to be able to hold his own. I’d say she’s evenly matched. It’s not often she gets to argue with someone who gives as good as she does.”

Chrissy nodded, looking back to the forest ground with a smile.

“Eddie’s the same. People back home don’t really know how to handle him. He prefers to freak people out. Says you can see who people really are when you’ve taken them by surprise. With all of the politeness and etiquette stripped away, there’s only them left.”

“Robin’s similar.” Steve agreed. “Though she prefers to dig. She likes to force her way past politeness and etiquette until she gets to their centre.”

“She sounds like a good friend to have.”

“She is. The best friend I could have possibly asked for.”

“That’s nice.” Chrissy blushed. “I look forward to getting to know her better.”

Steve snorted, loud and brash and indelicate. Chrissy baulked in surprise momentarily but that surprise quickly melted away and she giggled along with him.

“Only if she and Eddie don’t bite each other's heads off. We might have to keep them at opposite sides of the castle back home.”

Steve’s arm was pulled back as Chrissy came to a sudden stop.

He looked down at her, a little worried that he’d said something wrong.

Her eyes were wide and disbelieving, stunned, even.

“What?”

Steve felt his brows pull together in confusion.

“When we’re married?” He hesitated. “When… you come back to live with me at my castle-”

“No, no,” despite her words, she nodded along, “no, I know that but I mean… he- he can come with me?”

Steve’s eyebrows flew up until he was sure they were hidden in his hair, his mouth opening a little in surprise.

“Of course he can come with you?” He replied, bewildered. “You can bring whoever you want. Chrissy, you’re being made to leave your home, I’m not going to make you leave your people behind too. Didn’t… didn’t they tell you that?”

Chrissy shook her head, blinking rapidly down at the ground again and oh god was she going to cry? 

Steve didn’t know how to handle people crying, he didn’t know how to handle it when he cried, how was he supposed to handle someone else?

“Hey, Chrissy I’m- I'm sorry.” He stuttered out, letting her grip slip from the crook of his elbow and fluttering his hands around, unsure if he was permitted to touch her. “I didn’t mean to upset you, I-”

“You didn’t.” She sniffled, shaking her head again. “You didn’t. This is- this is the best news I’ve heard all month.” She said, finally looking up at him with bright eyes and a blinding smile.

Steve opened his mouth to reassure her when an angry shout and stomping footsteps came from behind him.

“Hey!”

He turned to see Eddie storming towards them, Robin chasing after him, looking like she was ready to drag him back by the hair.

“What did you do?!” Eddie all but shouted at him.

He planted a hand on Steve’s chest and shoved, causing him to stumble back a step, only bolstered by Robin’s hand on his back.

Steve should be affronted, was affronted, really. People didn’t shove him.

But at the same time, it was clear to him that Eddie had a great affection for Chrissy. It was the softest he had seen him be in their short time together. Gentle touches and a concerned brow, softly cupping Chrissy’s face in his hands, brushing a tear away from her eye.

“What happened, Chris?” Eddie almost whispered to her amongst the sound of clanging armour coming closer. “What did he say to you?”

“No he-” she tried to shake her head again in his hands. “He said- Eddie, you can come with me. You can come with me and maybe we can take Max too and I won’t- Eddie, I won’t be alone!”

Eddie, who’s face had started to break into a disbelieving smile, dropped his hands, throwing his arms out as if he were about to catch her up in a great hug, but he was knocked off balance.

A hand clad in dark intimidating metal clamped around his forearm and dragged him violently away, twisting it forcefully and painfully behind Eddie’s back.

“My sincerest apologies, your highness.” The helmed Stoirmeach Captain inclined his head towards Steve. “Please don’t take this tree dwellers actions as representation of our people.”

He bent low, twisting Eddie’s arm again so he was forced to bow as well. 

Chrissy was standing just off to the side, hands clasped in horror over her mouth, forgotten and ignored as the Captain seemed more focused on Steve than his own royalty, hissing, “Show some respect, Outsider.”

Eddie turned his head up, hair spilling over his face and glared with such a fire it was a wonder the Captain’s helm didn’t start to melt.

“Why should I? I don't know him. He hasn't earned it. Why should I give him respect just because of who he was born—”

Eddie cried out again as his arm was wrenched further and Steve had enough. He would have loved to have jumped in and ripped the guard away but he had to be polite. Had to be respectable about it and had to try not to make things worse for everyone involved.

“I don’t think this manhandling is necessary–”

“Can’t let a weed grow too wild, Your Highness.”

“I am asking you to unhand him!” Steve snapped, his patience wearing thin.

The Captain raised his head and from what Steve could see through his helm, the surprise on his face was clear. Whether that was from Steve’s raised voice or from his defence of someone who so clearly had so little respect amongst them, he didn’t know.

The Captain took a quick glance around at the same time Steve did, noticing all the eyes upon them. The various Stoirmeach retinue, more interested in Steve’s reaction than what was happening in front of them, as though they’d seen it before, as well as Hopper and Lucas who had appeared at Steve’s back, Hopper’s hand inching towards his sword, the both of them stone-faced and serious, Robin looking thunderous by Steve’s side. 

Eddie’s arm was released and he stumbled forward, wincing as he brought his arm back around, clutching it to his chest.

He straightened up, his head held high and his shoulders rolled back, glaring at Steve like he expected more words to be spat at him.

When nothing came, he turned on his heel and stomped his way back to the hosting tent, everyone’s eyes still on him.

Chrissy had rivers of tears running down her face and she looked heartbroken, taking a step in Eddie’s direction before halting herself, looking back towards Steve as though asking him if she could go. 

Steve could not imagine a world where Robin or Erica or Claudia or his mother or any woman he knew waited for his permission to do something so simple as follow a friend in distress.

So it was with a feeling of being completely out of his depth he nodded to her and there was a distinct feeling of discomfort crawling up his back when she exhaled in relief, like he would have ever even thought of denying her and she turned, following Eddie at as fast a pace as she felt acceptable.

Steve’s eyes turned back to the Stoirmeach Captain.

“I apologise for the scene, Your Highness.” 

For the scene. Not for the brutality or the wanton cruelty they’d all born witness to.

“He’s too wild. But I suppose what else is to be expected from a man of his kind. I promise to keep a closer eye on him, so nothing of the sort will happen in your presence again.”

Steve pulled himself up to his full height, chin parallel with the floor.

“I’m not sure it’s him that needs keeping a closer eye, but thank you for your concern.”

The Captain seemed momentarily confused but took his dismissal for what it was, bowing again with a short nod and turning to shuffle the onlookers away.

Steve exhaled to himself, turning to Hopper, Lucas and Robin, all of whom looked just as uneasy as he was.

“What the hell was that all about?” Robin asked, her eyes on the tent Chrissy and Eddie had disappeared into.

“I don’t know.” Hopper answered, his mouth in a tense line. “But I don’t think it’s the last we’ll be seeing of it.”

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 4] [AO3] [Art]

As always, major thanks and much love to @hbyrde36 for the magnificent beta work, @arelliann for their beautiful artwork, dividers and header, and to all my cheerleaders helping to keep me motivated. 🥰

[aspaceformbf]

7 December 2024 Live Charity Stream Transcript - Part 3/Final

Link

---

1:12:30

Natalie

Has Peter watched Spooky Month, and who is his favourite character?

Fuboo

Let's see.. if Peter did watch Spooky Month, I see, I think his favourite character would be.. oh hold on.. what's his name.. the candy store owner. What was his name? I forgot! I don't know!

1:13:15

Fuboo

Kevin! Yes his favourite character would be Kevin.

---

Kat

Also, to answer this one repeating question, it is safe to say that Peter is not a Brony. 

Fuboo

No, no he's not.

1:13:50

Kat

I have a question of my own cos I just thought of the Home Alone movie.

Um, before YN lives with him, did he ever booby trap his house?

Fuboo

Uh, no actually.

Kat

Would he booby trap it after YN shows up?

Fuboo

After.. if YN tries to run away like a third time, that's when he has to start booby trapping everything.

Cos one leg.. maybe they'll learn their lesson, two legs.. okay, definitely shouldn't be able to run for it. Again, he's like

"Okay legs are.. no they're, they're still trying to make a run for it so I might need to do something about it"

1:14:55

Fuboo

He looks so disappointed! *laughs*

Natalie

*sigh* This again..

Fuboo

When will you learn..

Magic (TK)

Third time you fell in the river.

Fuboo

Peter covers the exit with plastic wrap! *laughs*

I'm free! I'm free-AGH!

1:15:30

Natalie

Someone's asking

"When did he steal his van? Was it in high school or later?"

Fuboo

Eh, it was a little later.

1:16:00

Fuboo 

This one I had fun with. Lucy wearing her coat, well it's not even her coat, it's her friend's coat but he gave it to her.

Yes Peter would stop smoking if uh YN had.. had asthma.

1:17:10

Fuboo

But yeah.. Lucy. And just.. the pin. *laughs*

That pin.

Kat

The horrible little Franklin pin.

Fuboo

I kept forgetting, I wanted to name him Charles but I was like, oh what was it..

Franklin.. I gotta think about Benjamin.. Franklin.. okay, I got it.

---

1:18:00

Kat

How would he react if YN's parents did not like or approve of him?

Fuboo

Oh he'd still keep dating, he'd still keep dating YN like "eh".

---

1:19:45

Natalie

Does Peter have a favourite type of cheese?

Fuboo

Not really? I really don't imagine him eating very much cheese in general.

Magic (TK)

What if YN likes cheese? What if YN was Wallace from Wallace and Gromit?

Fuboo

God *laughs*

That's for you to decide, I'm gonna leave that to your imagination.

Magic

Consult the fan arts.

Fuboo

Consult the fanarts!

1:23:44

Fuboo

Alright, well speaking of writing.. we do have another guest here that I would like to uh, like to introduce you all to.

See this one here is uh, this here is one of my uh, my creative writers, someone who really helps me out when I hit those writer's blocks and everything like that. 

Ladies and gentlemen, Kahuna!

- Kahuna enters the chat -

1:25:10

Fuboo

Does Peter have a favourite cake flavour? Not really? I think cake in general is nice. It's a sweet treat, he loves his pastries.

Magic (TK)

If you can put it in the over, TK- no not TK sorry, Peter will eat it.

Fuboo

Right, right.

Magic

Especially if you put it in the oven.

1:26:55

Fuboo

But yeah in your free time, like do you just write uh small little fun things for yourself, by any chance?

Kahuna

Uh yeah I do I'm an author actually and I do write in my free time a bit.

Fuboo

I don't *laughs*

Kahuna

I've actually written some old fanfiction of Your Boyfriend that's on AO3.

Fuboo

Oh yeah?

1:31:25

Kat

There's a question that I know the answer to. How would Peter react if YN used Marijuana?

He wouldn't mind as long as you're not hurting yourself or destroying your life with it.

1:32:20

Kat

Peter's love language is all of them. All five.

1:32:45

Andrew (Don)

Uh, for Don's love language, that's one question I saw.. that's hard to say. I feel like he'd be a hand-made gifts or home-cooked meals type.

I feel like he would be the type of person that, he could cook really well, he just doesn't really do it, cooking for himself. It's kind of hard to do that every-

Fuboo

I do see that yes. So just so you know, if you guys get a pot roast from Don.

Andrew

Yeah he'll show up with a pot roast or maybe he has a smoker hidden away in his place.

1:33:25

Magic (TK)

There's a question here, if TK were to kill someone, how would they go about it? Poison.

Fuboo

Very sneakily.

1:33:40

Fuboo

Alright that's another question, what's their murder language?

Don would just beat them to death. Fists and all.

Magic

Lucy would suffocate with her boobs. Love him to death!

1:37:45

Kat

Would TK let YN braid their hair?

Magic (TK)

No. No one touches the hair.

Kat

Not allowed.

1:39:45

Kahuna

I think somebody asked a question about what music Peter would have on Spotify.

Fuboo

On the spoofy?

Kahuna

Yeah what types of music he listens to

Fuboo

Uh.. mainly classical. Maybe he might kick on some lo-fi.

Kat

He hates country.

Fuboo

Yeah he hates country.

1:40:45

Fuboo

If YN loves country then Peter will put up with it, he's like okaayy..

1:41:05

Magic (TK)

Would Don be besties with TK?

Fuboo

Mmmmm.... they'll get along, but I wouldn't say besties.

Magic

Yeah. Yeah..

I can't imagine TK roasting Don mainly out of fear.

Fuboo

Yeah.

Andrew (Don)

It's understandable, he's right to fear me.

Magic (TK)

Please.. please don't hurt me sir.

Andrew

It's like, I would envision just the most menacing looking version of TK and then it just pans out, he's like half the size of Don, like holding him away, holding him away with his hand.

Magic

Just flailing arms trying.

Andrew

Could do this all day.

1:42:30

Fuboo

Right, I have here a voiceline of YB for Day 5, so let me play that..

(Space - It's so soft I couldn't fucking hear it even on max volume. I think it involves water or.. gargling? Maybe a drowning scene. Maybe he's singing? It's too soft.)

1:44:55

Kat

He's obsessed with his dental hygiene.

Fuboo

Yes exactly! He's super proud of his teeth.

1:46:00

Kat

A questions asks

"What does Peter do with his teeth after -that- route?"

Fuboo

After that route? I think we all know what uh.. what you're referring to..?

Kat

Well I'm assuming it's the one where he pulls out his teeth.

Fuboo

Yeap

Andrew (Don)

Puts them in the special teeth box

Magic (TK)

It's all lined with velvet and everything.

Andrew

Or just.. it's just a soggy cardboard box.

1:47:10

Fuboo

Is Peter human? Yes. Yes he is.

Magic (TK)

Sub-human.

Fuboo

Well they are their own version of-

Kat

He's human in his world.

(DOODLE DONE)

---

1:47:35

Fuboo

Right now we're going to doodle TK in high school.

Magic (TK)

I imagine TK would have been very preppy.

Kat

Like borderline popular but just popular enough to not get severely abused by the populace.

Fuboo

Like nah this one's cool guys, let's leave them.

Magic

The admired popular, not the uh stuck up popular.

Fuboo 

Yeah

Kat

Yeah

Magic

Not like Regina George popular more like Kim Possible popular.

1:48:40

Kat

This question asks

"What languages does Peter speak?"

And I think that he, if I remember right, he speaks only English, very slight Spanish and will learn literally whatever YN speaks as like a main or second language.

Fuboo

Uh yes. As his way of communicating with the player better.

1:49:45

Magic (TK)

Oh damn this TK is looking awfully similar to your avatar, I can't help but think this is self insert!

Fuboo

No, no it's not, it's not supposed to be! Would it help if I get rid of the hat?

Magic

Nah, keep the hat.

Fuboo

Keep the hat, okay. It's not supposed to...

Magic 

Keep the hat, we must never see what's underneath that.

Fuboo

It's Double D from Ed Edd and Eddy all over again.

1:50:35

Kat

Does Peter still have his wisdom teeth or have they been removed?

Fuboo

He still has his wisdom teeth. His mouth is actually big enough to where it's like

"Oh okay well, they're growing just fine, so they're not a threat to your health."

1:51:50

Magic (TK)

Speaking of uh high school versions of the character, my honest thought was that TK would have been a bully, kind of similar to like Liz Lemon from 30 Rock.

1:52:00

Kat

If Peter's mouth is big enough to keep his wisdom teeth, is it big enough to have YN's head in it? He can just eat YN whole apparently

Magic

Don't, you'll encourage that fanfic!

Fuboo

You guys hear that?

1:52:40

Fuboo

No more in the stream please, although I can easily imagine Peter opening up his mouth and then just closing on YN's head.

Magic (TK)

Imagined it like a scene from um American Dead where the alien just like, just slowly moves and then engulfs the head..

1:53:40

Kat

There's a question from somebody who I can't pronounce,

"Is Peter allergic to anything except peanuts?"

Fuboo

Nope just peanuts.

Kat

And it's not even a deathly allergic allergy to peanuts, he'll just be in pain but he won't die.

Magic (TK)

Intolerance.

Kat

Yeah!

Fuboo

Unless it's really expired peanut oil then uh.. be careful what you cook with.

1:54:20

Kat

What would Peter do if YN's really awkward, sorry.

Fuboo

If YN's really awkward?

1:54:45

Kat 

It's his first time kissing, leave him alone.

Magic (TK)

He's that bad!

Fuboo

The bite of '87!

1:55:00

Fuboo

But yeah if YN was awkward, Peter would try to approach them in a comfortable manner.

1:55:10

Magic (TK)

Oh, here's a tough one. What would be the one thing YN would do to just end all attraction that Peter has 

Fuboo

Um.. probably abuse him physically?

Andrew (Don)

Invest in crypto.

Fuboo

Invest in crypto!

Magic

I would have imagined it would just be just, being indifferent, just like, oh.. yeah.. and then just ignore.

---

( Magus : You know there's.. there's being disappointed but at this point, that's... that's just a completely different character.

The idea of having my love, the very CORE of my being just.. ripped away from me, based on my creator's whims.. or because a lot of people I don't care about online asked for it, I feel sick.

I'm glad I got out. )

( I can easily see TK losing feelings for stuff like that since he has more of a casual crush and isn't literally MADE TO LOVE YOU, but YB?

It's like saying cats are herbivores, it's just.. it's just gone so far that instead of being mad you're just staring at the other person like... what ?

---

With the MAJOR ways game YB is being changed over time, this is why I put the disclaimer that my own YB is based on the Tumblr, NOT the game.

At this point Game YB is just a kidnapper who gets stabby when you don't indulge his every fantasy.

He doesn't even love you for you, he just wants you to be the version of you that only exists in his head, and when you can't or won't he'll hurt you. )

( Magus : I feel humiliated being associated with this guy. )

---

1:56:00

Fuboo

How many days will there be in the future YB?

Your Girlfriend will also have five days. Um, the uh.. spinoff, I haven't decided yet so we'll just, we'll just wait and see.

1:56:30

Fuboo

How long did Peter stalk YN before asking them out?

Maybe three months, maybe four years, who knows. Peter always gives you a different answer if you ask him so.

1:56:50

Magic (TK)

Okay there's actually a funny question on here from um Laurence C. Would TK spend their free time cyberbullying children?

Funny thing about that is I used to go on Roblox and just troll children on there.

Fuboo

I don't imagine TK doing that though.

1:58:00

Kat

Is there any specific smell that Peter likes or cologne he prefers?

Magic (TK)

Odor YN *laughs*

Kat

Your laundry.

1:59:35

Magic (TK)

Is this Don in high school?

Fuboo

Oh my gosh, high school Don. He was in a musical *laughs*

Kat

Oh no, was he like John Travolta in Greece?

Magic

No it was um, whatever, he was singing I Dreamed a Dream because he went to an old boy's school.

Kat

Oh for fuck's sake.

2:02:00

Magic (TK)

You know just looking at this um thing you're drawing, just the story I'm thinking of behind it, just..

Just working the fashion and in the background just, Peter got nervous, um, was asked to share a kiss, got nervous, just opened wide and Don's just like

"Don't eat them, they haven't paid their rent yet.."

[paradoxolotl]

OH PARA MY DARLING!!! :))))

For the writer ask can I beg to see a snippet of Neil being banned from another coffee shop (Andrew's maybe 👀) or what led to him being banned from half the coffee shops?? (From Sugar, Spice, and Corporate Espionage)

My beloved PAS ♥️

Unusual Asks for Sugar, Spice, and Corporate Espionage

~

“Sir.”

Neil took a slow sip of his coffee. Only his third cup of the day. Or hour. He couldn’t remember anymore. The beauty of a deadline he had pretended to prepare for rearing it’s ten hours until due highlight covered head? Kevin’s “inhuman level of coffee consumption” ban was lifted.

Not that Neil followed it all that closely anyways. What did Kevin know.

“Sir.”

He flicked his eyes up and to the left, hand still blindly typing away at his keyboard. He had a word count to hit after all. The familiar death glare of a service employee not paid enough to give a proper fuck but forced to anyways waited for him. Usually, Neil continued silence turned most people away, or at least made them uncomfortable enough to spit out whatever they decided was worth interrupting him over. But this one only glowered harder, jaw setting.

“Ma’am.” It turned up at the end like a question, but Neil’s voice held too much faux pleasantry to be recognized as such.

Nostrils flared on her inhale. “Sir-” and honestly the amount of complete disdain and over your bullshit she packed into that single word even impressed him- “you need to leave. Now.”

Oh boy, this was almost worth pausing an essay for. Neil finished his sentence. “I’m actually pretty busy at the moment,” he said, turning back to his work. Was a Freudian mention too much? He tapped the space key twice, not quite hard enough to move his cursor. Probably not.

“Sir.”

“Jesus,” Neil muttered. He needed more coffee. Matching her glare with one of his own, Neil shook his cup, the pitiful remains just enough to splash against the sides. “I’m a paying customer. You can’t just kick me out for no reason.”

“You taped crime scene photos to our windows!” she snapped. And well. Okay yes, that was true. He didn’t need to spare a glance to see the expanse of carnage he had set up.

“It’s for research,” he said.

She jabbed a finger at the cup in his hand. “And that isn’t even from here.”

Neil glanced down. The cup sported the bright orange colours of Fox & Nip Cafe. He looked up to the hat the employee was wearing. It was purple, with The Drip stitched in white across the front. Slowly, he raised the cup to his mouth, tipping the last of it into his mouth.

“I’ve told you guys before. I don’t see what the problem is,” he said. “Your coffee is shit. You know that right? I could order a triple shot and it wouldn’t even hit me. It’s an art, how you’ve taken something so easy and weakened it to the point of threatening extinction.”

Turning in his chair, Neil pointed to the man not even pretending not to be watching. “Your coffee is shit!” he said, making the man jump. He turned back to the employee. “This is literally the worst coffee is town. You have two things going for you: the tables are big enough to work at and your muffins aren’t sweet like fucking cakes. If I have to provide my own passable coffee, I should be allowed to use the space provided to finish my work.”

If looks could kill. “Get the fuck out,” she said.

Neil had three rules he lived by. Number two: when a retail employee drops the word fuck as a promised threat, it’s time to go.

Tossing her a quick salute, Neil shoved his laptop back into his bag and left everything else behind. He didn’t really need the photos anyways.

Two blocks down, he pulled out a small notebook from a side pocket. With a sigh, he crossed out The Drip from his list.

[atlasofthestaars]

Are you okay?? It's been a while

haha that's a lot of messages!

hi! i'm not dead <3 I'm back! sorry for my sudden disappearance! I've been busy with life! I've been on the grind for college and art, and somehow along the path I got a boyfriend ??? He uh. knows I make this fanfic, so maybe he can get me to update this faster

To be totally transparent, I have not written much. Like at all. I hit a major writing block before disappearing and then time flew and now we're here!

Am I dropping this story? Nope! I plan to update and finish this thing, even if it takes me months between updates, sorry about that haha

Well, I'll be working on chapter 17 now! I felt bad so I have the entirety of what I HAVE written below! It's just the intro flashback like usual so there's not much, sorry about that :(

“I’m surprised you said no to Sonya’s offer.”

You stared ahead, watching the sunrise over the cityscape. Gold and pinks stained the sky, the colors seeping into the clouds that passed by overhead. The air, though it’s been a week since the final showdown, still felt like it was scented with the ashes and blood of those who shouldn’t have died. Maybe it was because of your animalistic traits, but you swore it smelt fresh too. You tried not to close your eyes, or else you’d see those things again.

“Is it really that surprising?” You asked. Your voice was scratchy. You couldn’t tell if it was due to a lack of speaking or too much speaking. How much silence and talking you’ve been taking felt murky. The whole last week felt like a blur, in all honesty. You rose a hand up, massaging your throat. You heard a shift, and finally you allowed yourself to look at your companion.

“In all honesty?” Johnny’s voice felt like it had lost much of the grandeur. If you were feeling in a better mood, you would have maybe even joked about the rather plain way he was speaking. Making jokes, however, was the last thing on your mind. You watched him carefully, his shoulders slumping forward as he took a good long stare at you. Did you look as much of a wreck as you felt? You felt your body try and straighten up, to attempt to look somewhat put together. “Yeah, I kinda am.”

“Why?” You asked, still analyzing the actor. There was a long stretch of time where the both of you simply stared at each other. You noted the uncharacteristic eyebags, and just how…normal he looked. “Isn’t it obvious I would choose to stay with Lord Raiden and help those back at the White Lotus?” You inquired further. A tone of offense slipped into your tone, one that you only noticed until you saw the slight cringe from the man.

“Well, yeah, I guess.” Johnny replied, his face scrunching up slightly. It seems he was still reeling a bit at your harsher tone. “But you seemed so…adamant about working with Sonya over the last week. You wouldn’t even rest, sleep, or eat until either she or I practically dragged you out of whatever task you busied yourself with.” He pointed out.

“I’m just a hard worker.” You excused yourself. You decided to ignore the very, very pointed and judgemental look the actor sent your way. Hard worker was not even an understatement, it was simply wrong. You weren’t working to earn merits. You were working to distract yourself. Catching your mind drifting, you stared down at your hands, noting the many more calluses that would form from how much you’ve been writing lately.

You don’t think you’ve written this much in ages.

“Listen, I’m not stupid. I’m not going to make you spit out whatever’s been bugging you, because I think you won’t, and I feel like I already know what it is. But I will say I do know what it looks like when someone’s trying to drown themselves in something to distract themselves.” The actor told you in a strangely stern voice. He crossed his arms, staring you down. “But like I said, I know there’s no point in carrying that point on.” He sighed, running a hand through his unusually unstyled hair. “So what are you even planning on doing when you go back?” 

You paused, looking at the actor. Was he that good at reading people, or were you that exhausted that you could not even put up a convincing front anymore? You searched his face, trying to figure out which answer was the right one. Maybe it was both, you couldn’t tell anymore.

“Anything to help the world recover.” You told Johnny Cage. You knew your answer was vague, but you guessed it was better than nothing. Plus, what you said was true. You were planning on doing anything to help your community to rebuild. Whether it be helping rebuild the building of the Wu Shi itself after the invasion years ago, or to train new initiates with your father, you were willing to do it.

You could not let what happened last week ever happen again. Not as long as you were alive.

“Sounds like a tall task.” Johnny said, his gaze now settled on the pinkened horizon. There was a bit of wistfulness to his voice, as if acknowledging the terribly difficult task you had placed upon yourself. There was no doubt in his voice, though. Instead, it felt as if he knew that you’d be true to your word, even if it meant your doom.

“What about you?” You asked, suddenly feeling awkward as the conversation had died out. You hadn’t wanted your conversation with him to be entirely about you. Not only was it something you weren’t all too fond of in the first place, but it felt wrong especially when your conversation partner was someone as ostentatious as the actor. “What are your plans now? To go back to acting?”

“Honestly? Thought about that for a bit.” Johnny admitted, shrugging. There was a certain type of look on his face, one that seemed long for normalcy that he could never have back. “But after seeing all of this shit? I don’t think I could return to that life. I was planning on taking Sonya’s offer to join the Special Forces, kinda hoping you would too.”

“Really?” You said, unable to hide the surprise in your voice. Your eyebrows rose, before you felt a soft huff leave your lips. “Was it so you could have a friend in the force, or is it so you could have someone to bug in the force?”

“A bit of both.” The actor, or rather, soon to be ex actor, said. A hint of his signature smile was sent your way, and he crossed his arms. as he looked at you from the corner of his eye. “With how long we’ve known each other, I can’t say I hate you. I could have done without the whole doom impending tournament that made us meet, though. Not a big fan. Plus, you being there would mean there’s one less hard ass there I’d have to deal with.”

“I’m honored.” You replied, hoping the sarcasm you were attempting was getting through even with your dry tone. There was a beat that passed as you considered your next words. “I’m not going away forever, Cage.” There was what you assumed was relief that twinkled in his eyes as you told him that. “I’m sure there will be help that Raiden will need from the Special Forces, and vice versa. Plus, I already told Sonya this, but if we hear anything about those revenants that Raiden spoke of, I want in. Not to mention, I’ll be sure to write.”

“Good to know you’re not abandoning us.” Johnny joked, but there was sincerity within his voice. He seemed genuinely glad you were not going to ditch any of them any time soon.

[random-writing-thoughts]

Thought 206 is perfection, I just love the civilian x villain pairing so much. If you ever decide to write another part I'd love to read it

Thank you so much!!! I really like writing that one. 😁😁

Thought #206.2

Previous

Warnings: swearing, talk of abuse, physical abuse

Villain and Civilian walked down the street. Talking about everything they could think of.

Favorite color...

"Blue. You can't have a bad blue." Civilian said with a big smile.

Villain smiled back. "That's my favorite color too."

"Really?" She asked excitedly.

No. Not really. I don't have a favorite color, but I like how blue makes you feel, so now it's mine.

Villain smiled and nodded, grabbing her hand.

She squeezed his hand and started pulling him down the road.

She continued talking, with great excitement, about the paintings they had seen. The techniques. The brush strokes. The artists stories.

She stopped and her eyes widened.

"I'm so sorry. I've been talking your ear off."

Villain watched as she retreated back into herself. Putting up her walls again.

Villain pulled her closer. "I love hearing you talk about art. Don't ever feel bad about talking about things you love."

She smiled and rubbed the back of his hand with her thumb. "Thank you."

"Of course." He pulled her next to him and draped his arm over her shoulder. "Now let's get you home. You've had a long day."

She sighed. "I have. I need a big bottle of wine and some ice cream."

They started walking down the road. "Done and done. Do you want to stop on the way or do you want me to grab you some after I drop you off."

She bobbled her head. "Am I being too needy if I ask you to go after you drop me off?"

He stopped walking. "No. Did your ex make you feel like you were being too needy for asking for a small thing like that?"

Her eyes darted down to the sidewalk. "Yes. He didn't even get me birthday presents. Said I was being too needy when I asked him to get me something. Even got phys..." her voice trailed off.

Villain placed a finger under her chin and lifted it up until her tear filled eyes met his.

He smiled. "That's it. I'm not leaving your side until you realize that you are worthy of love."

Civilian wiped her eyes. "Are you sure..."

"If you say 'are you sure you want to spend time with me?' I'm going to move in with you."

She laughed.

"Don't tempt me." He said pulling her into a hug.

She buried her face in his chest.

He ran a hand through her hair. "I know it's so hard to believe it, but you are worthy of love. To at least be treated with respect."

She pulled her head back and smiled up at him.

"Thank you." She pointed across the street. "We were so close to my place. I should have waited to talk about Ex till then."

She laughed and pulled away from him.

He grabbed her hand and pulled her towards the building. "Well let's hurry in case it happens again."

They both laughed as they ran up to the building.

She let go of his hand. "I'm on the 6th floor. Bet I can beat you up there."

She turned and took off up the staircase. He chuckled and took off after her.

He caught up to her. She squealed and tried to block him from getting in front of her. He laughed and grabbed her around the waist throwing her over his shoulder.

She kicked and hit at his back playfully. He laughed and got to the sixth floor landing putting her down on her feet.

"I call that a tie." She said laughing and walking towards her apartment.

He followed her to her place and pushed the door open when she unlocked it.

It was cute. House plants in every corner. Prints of art and every kind of yarn art hung on the wall. It was cozy.

She walked in and threw her shoes and purse in the corner as she collapsed on the fluffy bean bag in the corner.

Villain looked around and found a soft blanket draped over the sofa. He threw it over her and tucked her in. Kissing her on the forehead.

"I'll be right back with your wine and ice cream. Preferences?"

She snuggled under the blankets, closing her eyes. "Moscato and cookie dough."

He nodded. "Don't fall asleep before I get back. If you do I'm going to be locked out."

She pointed at her purse. "Take the keys. Wake me up when you get back."

He smiled and looked at her small frame engulfed by the bean bag and blanket.

You deserve to be loved. I would steal the world for you Civilian.

He chuckled softly and shook his head, grabbing the keys from her purse.

A couple hours was all it took. And to think I was there to steal a painting. He paused. Which I still need to do.

He left quietly and locked her door behind him.

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

Civilian heard the door close and smiled.

Who knew? Art museums for the win.

She got out from under the blankets and went to the bathroom. She took a look at herself in the mirror.

Oof girl we've had a day.

She sighed and turned on the shower. She checked her phone as she waited for the water to warm up.

She scrolled through all the missed calls, voice mails, and text messages from Best Friend and Ex.

Ex mostly switched from blaming her to yelling at her to know her place. He kept threatening terrible things and then switching to promising to be a better person.

And Best Friend was telling her she wasn't being supportive. Telling her she was supposed to be happy for her instead of being angry. Pretty much calling her a terrible person. A bitch.

She sighed.

Once steam filled the room she got undressed and hopped into the shower humming her favorite song.

She washed her face, shampooed her hair, and shaved her legs.

A loud knock sounded through out her apartment.

Didn't he take my keys?

She turned off the water and got dressed.

She finger combed through her hair as she unlocked her door.

Wait he does have the keys. How could he have...

Someone pushed the door open knocking her to the ground.

Ex stormed into her apartment with Best Friend following closely behind.

She closed the door and locked it.

"What..."

Ex bent down and grabbed her hair roughly pulling her head up until they met eyes with each other.

"Who the fuck do you think you are? Think you can just ignore my calls and texts? Last I checked you're still my girlfriend."

He pulled her head back sharply.

"I didn't break up with you and you sure as hell didn't break up with me. So that means you have to follow the rules still."

Civilian grabbed at his hand weakly as tears streamed down her face.

"I also heard that you were walking around with another guy at the museum." Best Friend said walking to Ex's side.

She tapped Civilian on the nose with a clicking noise. "That makes you a cheater too. You can drop the holier than thou act bitch."

Ex's face reddened. "Who's the guy?"

Next

[madamecerberusfanfics]

Can You Love Yet

Tom Riddle x Reader/OC

Ch.7 A Blow to the Head Master list

Defense against the dark arts, probably one of Rowan's least favorite classes. Though being great at defensive spells, with her wand (quite fittingly) being made of rowan wood, known for its skill with protection spells. However it's the offensive spell that has always given her trouble.

She could at least sigh in relief knowing that she didn't share the class with Tom. The teasing & ridicule would be endless if he saw her in a duel & sadly that's just what they were doing today. With the desks & chairs replaced with a long raised dueling platform for the students adorned with a blue & gold cloth.

Standing there trying her best to keep her nerves under control as her eyes fixated on the different duels unfolding before her. Pale eyes darting back & forth as the two students on the platform throw spells flew. Countering & blocking each other's attacks, the heated exchange only growing hotter till the Gryffindor finally landed a hit on the Slytherin. Knocking the boy landing & sliding a few feet on his back. The other Gryffindors cheered for their house mates victory, as he stood there with a cocky smile plastered on his face.

Time for the next duel & sadly- "Grimm!"- it was her turn. Freezing as soon the professor called her name, quickly she took a deep breath & regain her composure, stepped on top of the platform. Coming face to face with a different Gryffindor, a boy with dirty blonde hair & a determined look piercing right through Rowan.

As soon as the professor gave them the sign the Gryffindor wasted no time casting attacks. Fast to act Rowan stated to block one after the other. The blonde relentless in the on slot of attacks was slowly pushing the now anxious girl closer to the edge. Knowing she couldn't just block him forever she reflected his spell right back at him. Blocking it just as she expected, readying her wand to attack with his gourd down only to hesitate, like every time before.

Leaving herself wide open perfectly for him, as with one final spell hitting her. Sending Rowan flying back causing her head to hit hard against the wooden floors.

Everything was black as if she was floating in a void. Soon she could recognize the feel of a ferm mattress & sheets beneath her, then the smell of herbs entering her nostrils every time she took a breath. Steering as she tried to fight off the grogginess, finally managing to open her eyes only to be blinded by the painfully bright light. Groaning as she shut her eyes once more only for the sound of clacking footsteps to assault her ears. "Oh miss Grimm you're finally awake, here." It had been the nurse, having Rowan sit up as she handed her a small glass bottle, "here love take this." & Without much thought she took it, a bitter potion that helped relieve the pain & fogginess in her head. "Thank you madam I feel a lot better" her voice, quite & grateful to the nurse. "Let me know if you need anything else love." With that she could hear the nurse walk away as the sound of her heels got further & further. With her eyes still closed not wanting to risk the pain the bright light might cause, she laid back down.

Tom had heard about the incident & as much as her was upset with Rowan letting herself get hit & injured like that. He couldn't help but feel even more angry at the Griffindor who caused the injury in the first place.

A scowl tugging on his lips as he made his way towards the hospital wing. Footsteps, quick yet almost soundless, soon enough he stood at Rowan's bed side. Unsure whether to feel pity or anger at the state she was in. With her head wrapped with a bandage, a small frown tugging at her lips instead of her normal cheeky smile. A bizarre sight to say the least, it had been the first time he had ever seen Rowan injured & all he could feel looking down at her small body was dread.

Her eyes slowly opened just enough for her crystal clear orbs to peak through her lashes. Tom made sure the whirlwind of emotions he was feeling was hidden well enough that even with Rowan's sharp perception she couldn't tell.

"Wow I'm surprised that you came to see me, keep this up & I'll start to think you've grown attached." her voice, rough & quiet as a tired smile tugged at her lips. "Oh please Grimm the only thing I've grown attached to is not going back to that hellhole." Rolling his eyes in annoyance at her ridiculous assumption. "Oh please don't think I haven't noticed Lestrange's little crush on me, Merlin knows why," sitting up slowly careful not to irritate her still sore head. " & You're strange response to it." Scoffing & rolling his eyes even harder this time only to meet her piercing gaze. They both knew her words were true but Tom wouldn't dare confess to these strange confusing feelings.

"So how did you manage such a thing I knew you were bad when it came to defense against the dark arts but I didn't think it was this bad." Changing the subject to the actual matter at hand. Making Rowan overt her gaze as her lightly freckled cheeks reddened with embarrassment. "W-well it's not all of it that I struggle with I am quite skilled when it comes to defensive magic." Trying her best to come off as proper but of course Tom saw right through it.

"Your head injury would say otherwise." Tom, quick to retort.

"It's just the offensive spells that I have trouble with." Finally admitting, her voice soft & quiet as her eyes looked back up at him through her lashes. The proper facade finally falling off only to show puer embarrassment on her deepening red face.

This had done some with in Tom another new feeling he wasn't sure how to describe. He knew it wasn't love, any of these new confusing feelings. From what he understood love didn't feel like what he was experiencing now. Only leaving him frustrated & annoyed.

Letting out a huff, "Fine!"

Rowan now looking at him wide eyed & confused. "I'll tutor you in offensive spells if that's all you really need." In a stern tone, dark eyes meeting pale orbs filled with gratitude & a smile he seemed to never get out of his head. "Very much appreciated Tom."

[whiskey-bumblebee]

I'm On Fire (Chapter 6)

Pairing: DBF!Aaron Hotchner/Fem!Reader

Word Count: ~2400

A/N: Me? Writing a legal drama? It's more likely than you think!

Warnings: Age gap relationship (older Hotch, younger reader), brief sex scene at the end

Taglist: @littlepeanut03 @rosaline-black @moonmark98 @yuly @jazzymariexoxoc @frogoko @morgthemagpie @laisy @whoreforhondo @ssamorganhotchner @lex13cm @mrs-ssa-hotch @violetlilites @fairy-alix @mercurysrhapsody @art-and-thoughts @rousethemouse

A few months ago, if someone had told you that you'd be watching your lover on trial for murder, you probably would have backed out. Closed yourself off from the world, made sure you didn't look at anyone for too long. No flirty glances, no casual waves.

The case had hit the newspapers hard. The premise was irresistible, a love triangle between a married couple and a younger woman. It spiralled out of control, the husband flew off the handle, killed the other woman's father. Maybe he'd been abusive, maybe he was just getting in the way. The facts were all but irrelevant.

You watched it play out, character by character, in the paper, since you couldn't risk going to the courtroom. Of course, you couldn't travel anywhere either, you could be called upon to testify at any time.

Music played over the radio you kept in the living room, some recent-ish Pink song.

When someone said count your blessings now, 'fore they're long gone...

You tapped your foot, sighing as you flicked through the pages. Maybe there was some solace in the fact that Aaron looked so goddamn good in these paparazzi shots of him walking to and from the courthouse. In most of them, he was trying to block his face with a folder, but there were a few of him scowling at the camera, mouth set in a hard line, his gaze piercing.

He still existed, you thought. Even if it had been a while since you'd seen each other, he must still exist. It wasn't all just a dream.

Derek Morgan had taken the stand, one of his co-workers. So had Spencer Reid, a sweet-looking boy who had been plainly nervous to talk in front of so many people. They'd shown the jury crime scene photos.

It shouldn't be taking this long. You had a plan. Why wasn't it working?

----

Three weeks earlier

Haley stopped by your house again on her way back from the police station. She looked frantic as she stood at your front door.

"You have to discredit me. You have to tell the police that I'm just his crazy ex-wife and I'll make up anything to get the house in the divorce. I don't know, just, just... Just tell them anything, I'm so sorry," She turned quickly on her heel.

"Haley," You called. "That won't work. I'm not meant to know anything about you, or it would prove that I knew you and Aaron better than I said I did."

She walked slowly back to your door.

"I can't let him go to jail," She said, eyes filling with tears. "I meant to trip him up, not throw him under the bus."

"I know," You said sympathetically, reaching for her arm. "C'mon, come inside. We can talk."

She exhaled shakily, nodding.

You gestured for her to take a seat on the couch while you brewed some tea.

"I can't do it, and you can't go back on your statement, so you'll just have to tell Aaron to fight hard, to say all of those things about you."

She nodded. "I shouldn't stay. I don't know if they're having us followed, or wire-tapped, or..."

You nodded. "That's okay. Can you stay for another minute? I just want to say something."

"Sure," She replied.

You sat beside her on the couch. "I really appreciate you coming and talking to me. Not just now, but earlier, too. We have to look out for each other, and I know how my relationship with him looks."

"I was just so worried. I was thinking that if there was any chance I was right, I was so worried about whoever the daughter was. I was panicking thinking that he might be pressuring some... teenager..."

You shook your head quickly. "You know it's not like that, right? I'm younger than him, but not by that much. I'm an adult. I still live, well... lived, with my dad, but that was my choice."

She nodded. "I'm so sorry I've made this so difficult. I wish you could testify against me. I deserve it."

"No, Haley," You reassured her. "If that had been the situation, it would have been the right thing to go to the police and share your suspicions. Maybe not implicating Aaron so much, but nobody's perfect."

She reached for your hand, holding it gently in her own.

"He's difficult, you know? I love him, but he's a difficult man to love. I want to make sure you know what you're getting into."

You nodded for her to continue.

"He's away on cases a lot. He's terrible at guessing how you're really feeling, considering he's a profiler. I guess it's because he's not even around enough to get to know your tells. Maybe it'll be different for you, but he doesn't want kids, doesn't want to retire early. He's terrible at talking about his feelings. A lot of the time it seems like you're in love with a ghost."

You squeezed her hand. "I'll be okay. I don't know if it's serious. Well, I mean, I guess it's complicated, but I don't know if he really wants to be with me. I get the feeling we'll probably see each other once or twice after the trial, but after that..."

She shook her head. "I don't think so. But we'll see."

A small smile grew on her face. "But if he was going to fall in love with anyone, I'm glad it's you. You remind me of him."

Your nose crinkled. "That could be a good thing or a very bad thing."

She cupped your cheek softly, running her thumb over your cheekbone. "It's a good thing, trust me. You've got the same strength he does. You'll need it."

___

"Aaron," Haley called, chasing after the long-legged man. "Can we talk?"

Onlookers watched as this domestic spectacle unfolded.

"No," He replied sternly. "I have nothing to say to you."

"Please? Just five minutes, and I'll never talk to you again."

"No," He repeated, not slowing his pace.

"Aaron Tobias Edward Hotchner, I am still your wife, and so help me God, you will stop for a moment and listen to me."

That stopped him in his tracks, although a hot flush blossomed up his neck. It was an angry red, a seething hue.

"Counsellor, could we use your office for a moment?" Hotch spat through gritted teeth. "It seems my ex-wife has something urgent to tell me."

The other man nodded, quickly unlocking the room. "Would you like a witness in the room?"

Haley shook her head quickly. "Please, Aaron. Just us. One last time."

Aaron sighed and shook his head at the attorney. "No, we'll be fine. Please, make it quick, Haley, this is our lunch break."

The door closed behind them, and Aaron immediately walked over to the window on the other side of the room, staring out at the street below. Haley stayed near the door, leaving some distance between them.

"I made a stupid mistake," She said softly. "And I'm sorry. But we need to end this, neither of us can afford it. And it looks bad for both of us, yelling at each other, airing the dirty laundry of our marriage."

"You might recall it was not my idea," Hotch said, his voice measured. That was the true sign of his anger.

"I know. And I don't need you to forgive me. But I need you to discredit me. Don't call me names, don't tell them about the condoms, just spin a story about my motive. I'm the only witness. If my argument falls apart, there's no case."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Because she told me to. I wanted her to do it, to throw me under the bus, but she's smart, and she realized that would make it worse. So you need to do it."

He visibly softened, crossing his arms over his chest as he rested his back against the wall.

"So what's your motive?"

"I want the house, I want you to lose your job, I'm a vindictive, attention-seeking whore. Whatever sells it. Whatever ends this."

"So I should tell the truth?" Aaron spat. "How inventive. Fuck you."

Haley recoiled. "You're being cruel. That's not going to help you. For once in your life, I'm asking you to be less emotional. Then we can finish this. Be logical. Be the agent. Hold it over me."

She turned away before he could see the tears in her eyes. "I'm just asking you to hate me in a different cadence. I know you can do it."

She opened the door and stepped out, walking over to the bathroom to freshen up.

This wasn't their first argument, but it might be their last. She slipped off her wedding ring and her engagement ring, dropping them into her purse.

"Damn it, Aaron," She whispered, pressing her palms into the cool countertop, avoiding her reflection in the mirror.

___

After the lunch break, Aaron returned to the courtroom with renewed energy. At first, it seemed like it might just be that he'd eaten a hearty sandwich, but it soon became clear that he'd gained a second wind.

He noticed that the press gallery had emptied out almost completely, with only a handful of reporters from local papers remaining.

He was almost sad that there'd be a reduced audience to watch him tear Haley to shreds.

"Your Honour, the defendant would like to make a brief statement."

"Go ahead, Agent Hotchner."

Aaron stood quickly and made his way to the floor, nodding to the judge before facing the jury.

"I would like to remind everyone of the central question of this case. This is not a trial about whether I was a good husband, or whether my marriage was typical or healthy. It is a trial about whether I entered the residence intending to kill the suspect, and therefore, whether this was a murder, or a tragic but inevitable consequence of my line of work," He paused to take a breath, pleased to see that the jury was more attentive than they had been an hour ago.

"By now, you know my argument, and the argument of the prosecution. I would like to point out that Mrs. Hotchner is the only person who has raised questions about my relationship with the suspect's daughter. You've seen evidence that I met her once, and that meeting was purely professional. Mrs. Hotchner and I are in the midst of a divorce, and it's advantageous for her to suggest that I had some sort of murderous intent when I killed the victim. She would be able to gain a substantial amount of my assets, including the house we owned. I believe this is why she is yet to sign the divorce papers, as she would no longer be the automatic inheritor of my assets if I was to be convicted."

He surveyed the jury again. This was going over their heads.

"Additionally, I would like to remind you that the victim is the primary suspect in a serial homicide investigation. This didn't give me the right to shoot him, but he was a suspect before anything else. I knew him, many years ago, but it had been years since we'd spoken."

"In short," He said, taking a deep breath. "Mrs. Hotchner would be the sole financial beneficiary if I was convicted before she signs the divorce papers. She would get the house and my savings. I would call the jury's attention to this fact, in the hopes that we might all resolve this sooner rather than later."

The judge nodded. "Acceptable. The jury is advised to consider this statement."

One of Aaron's lawyers nodded, and started to speak. "And I would add that Mr. Hotchner works as an FBI agent, and plays a key role in preventing violent crimes. The sooner he's able to get back to work, the better."

The judge looked over at one of Aaron's less talkative lawyers.

"Are you the divorce attorney representing Mr. Hotchner?"

"Yes, Your Honour."

"Is it true that the divorce proceedings have stalled due to Mrs. Hotchner's hesitancy to sign the documents?"

"Yes, Your Honour."

The judge turned to the other side of the courtroom.

"Is this a fair statement? Is Mrs. Hotchner's divorce attorney present?"

"Yes, Your Honour, it is a fair statement. I'm not the divorce attorney, but Mrs. Hotchner has been waiting for the trial to be resolved before the divorce is finalized," Haley's lawyer said.

Haley nodded.

Aaron breathed a sigh of relief.

____

"Finally," You breathed. "Fuck, Aaron, it's been so long..."

"You have to be quiet," He said softly. "The walls are thin."

He propped you up on the stately wooden desk in the court library, spreading your legs so he could kiss your inner thighs and pull your underwear aside, tracing his tongue over your slit.

"Don't tease me," You cried. "I need you."

"Needy girl," He cooed sympathetically. "Been too long, hmm?"

"Shut up," You whined. "Please just fuck me with your tongue."

He didn't hesitate, slipping two fingers into you, curling his fingers while he sucked at your clit, pressing his nose into your pubic bone.

"You taste so good," He murmured into your skin.

You clamped one of your hands over your mouth, eyes rolling back in your head. Legal papers were stuck to the back of your thighs. You didn't care.

He pressed his fingers into you, seeking out the sensitive spot that would make your legs shake. With his other hand, he rubbed circles over your clit. While he did, he ran his tongue over any of the skin he could reach, licking at your wetness.

"I'm going to-" You pressed your hand back over your mouth quickly, just in time to stop a moan from slipping out.

Your legs clenched around his head, and he didn't resist it. While you rode your high, he closed his eyes, enjoying the feeling of you around him.

Once you settled down, he crawled up your body, kissing your cheek, nipping your earlobe.

"The sex is good, hmm? It's better when you know that I fucking killed someone for you?"

Your eyes snapped open, and you gasped for air. You looked around your bedroom frantically, finding it empty. Frazzled, you dropped your head back into your pillow, closing your eyes.

"Aaron," You said softly, your voice melting into a whine as your eyes filled with tears. "I need you."

You whispered the words into the cold white wall.

"Don't leave me," You whispered. "I'm never going to love someone like I loved you."

If you squeezed your eyes shut, you could almost slip back into the dream. You could almost pretend to hear a car coming to a stop outside your house. Almost.

[marco-newgate]

Marco X CisFem Reader

5

"Good morning lass." Pops murmured emerging from the hall that lead to both of your respective rooms.

"You're up early." You turned toward the single cup coffee maker taking his dark roast blend out of the cabinet and pouring it into the reusable metal cup.

"Could say the same for you. The sun isn't even up. I wish you'd been like this in your school days." He chuckled taking a seat at the table.

"Don't underestimate me; I can still sleep the day away if given the chance. Still two sugars and a drop of milk?" The old man nodded, "I just wanted to get some apartment hunting done before work."

"I hope you're not in a rush to leave, we only just got you back."

"You talk like I wasn't home every Sunday evening." You placed his cup on the table and took your seat in front of your laptop.

"You know you can stay as long as you want. There's more order when you're around and I miss my only daughter."

"Thanks pops. It'll be a while; I'm just looking at places right now." You smiled.

Marco shambled down the stairs yawning. His lavender button down falling open, revealing the white cotton tank beneath that you could faintly see the outline of his chest tattoo through. A black tie hung over his shoulders.

"Morning F/N, pops." He continued to the coffee maker taking his mug from the hook below the cabinet.

Pops hummed standing to make his way to the patio to watch the sun rise. This was a morning ritual he'd had as long as you'd known him. Occasionally on cold mornings you'd join him, neither of you breathing a word, just simply enjoying the view.

"Morning Pineapple ~ " You sipped your coffee, "You were out late."

"Was I?" The blond cocked his head, "I didn't know I had to report in yoi."

"You don't." Your brows knit, "I was just surprised you're up so early."

"It is a school day." He sighed buttoning the shirt.

"Kids have electives first period now?" You asked.

"It's block scheduling now yoi. I have four hour and a half classes a day." He sat next to you.

"What's first on your agenda?"

"Art four is first period today. They're my smallest class so we're doing silk screening."

"Ah that's so cool. I had to retake algebra two senior year so I had to drop art." You frowned.

"I remember." The blond chuckled, "Pops was so disappointed."

An embarrassed flush spread over your cheeks.

"You want me to make you a tee shirt yoi?" He flipped his collar up and started to fumble with the tie.

"Really? It's been a super long time since you made me anything." You smiled watching him clearly have a hard time, "Come here you aren't doing it right."

He scooted toward you and tipped his chin up.

"I have to make an example for them anyway." He hummed.

"OK I'll give you one of my plain shirts before you leave." You wove the tie around your fingers, "How do you wear a tie every day and not know how to tie it?"

"Thatch ties them and I leave them that way yoi." You rolled your eyes, "How do you know how to tie them?"

You chuckled as he glanced down at you brow cocked.

"Thatch. He said it'd be a great way to impress a boyfriend one day." You winked, "Impressed?"

"I can't believe he was teaching you how to seduce guys in high school." He scoffed looking away from you as you straightened the tie.

"I was too awkward to use those skills anyway." You laughed sitting back to admire your work, "There you look sort of respectable."

"It was useful in the end huh?" Thatch's voice chimed from the doorway.

His hair was down and his shirt was stained with lipstick and missing buttons.

"Look at you walk-of-shaming on a Monday." You laughed crossing the room for another cup of coffee.

"Ah yeah." He flashed a cheeky smile, "Gonna hit the shower before anyone else gets up."

"Yeah I gotta get going too yoi." Marco stood cuffing his sleeves.

"Oh the shirt." You disappeared down the hall reappearing with a heather gray v-neck.

"Thanks. Have a good day at work." He tossed your shirt over his shoulder and pecked your cheek before heading out the door.

"D-did Marco just kiss you?!" Ace practically shrieked - obviously as surprised as you.

You whipped around to face the wide eyed raven unable to find any words and even if you could you weren't breathing.

Breathe!

Ace crossed the room grabbing your shoulders and scrunching his freckled face.

"What's going on here F/N?"

"I- I don't think he even knows he did it." You breathed.

"How could he not? He doesn't do stuff like that." He argued.

"I'm just as confused as you." You shrugged out of your best friend's grasp.

"Heeeeey F/N!!!" Luffy called stomping down the stairs, "Can you drop me off at the campus library on your way to work?"

"S-sure ya got 10 minutes to get ready and meet me at the car." You replied screwing your travel lid onto your coffee cup.

Ace just stood in the middle of the kitchen.

"Don't make a big deal out of it. It was nothing." You tapped his cheek and turned for the door stepping out on the porch.

"What happened to Marco?" Pops asked from his seat on the bench swing, "He came out here red as a tomato."

"No idea." You replied coolly before kissing the old man's cheek and hopping down the steps, "Have a great day pops!"

"You too." He called back. 

[mochirules]

sigh, art block hits like a truck on a winter night. cold and hard :(

lady furina please bless me with a cure!!!! /j

[arthropod-concoctions]

part 7

Joel was sitting on the balcony of his new tower house, staring ahead. He barely noticed when Jimmy flew over, until he snapped his fingers in front of Joel's face. “Hello? Anybody home? Whatcha thinking about, Joel?”

“Er... good question.” He had gotten very good at thinking about absolutely nothing in his years buried underground.

Jimmy chuckled, and shook his head. “That's like, the third time this week I've found you just... sitting there, staring at nothing. You need something to do, dude,” he said, placing a shulker box full of metal on the ground. “Wanna help me lay down the railway?”

“You know what? Sure,” Joel replied. Jimmy was probably right- he did need something to do. He'd expected to take longer building a new house for himself, but after building a single tower in the Mezalean style, he found his motivation to continue completely lacking. It was as if something in the air blocked him from enjoying the art of building like he had back when he was king.

And so the former king of Mezalea went to help the Sheriff lay down rails for a train track. It was hard work, but it prevented his mind from fogging up like it had so often in the past days, and so he began thinking.

There was something very wrong in this world, apparent from the moment he got buried out. Jimmy seemed to hate him, the first time he saw him again. Pixlriffs had thought he was an imitation of somebody else. Lizzie was suspicious of him, until she abruptly stopped and began to treat him as if he was a background decoration. There was a Joel-shaped error in the world of this era, and unlike the demon-nonsense he'd had to deal with before, it was proving impossible to ignore.

So instead he asked Jimmy: “So what's the deal with the other Joel, exactly?”

Jimmy hesitated with the track-laying for only a moment, then responded: “There isn't any other Joel.”

“Yes there is. I'm not stupid, Jimmy. I wanna know where he lives.”

Now Jimmy did stop, sighed, and looked up at Joel. “I thought we agreed that the other guy doesn't exist.”

“Well, then he's not existing in a very annoying way!” he shouted, dropping a thick metal bar, which hit the ground with a clang. “Look, Jimmy. I know gods aren't real, and I'm usually pretty good at ignoring when people act weird about it. But I can't talk to anyone here without them acting like I'm some poor imitation of the 'real' Joel! Do you have any idea of what that's like, Jim?!”

Jimmy had an unusually dark expression on his face when he responded. “What, people acting like you're not a real person? I do, actually. That's what he keeps doing to me, as well. And now we've been giving him a taste of his own medicine. So if you go seek him out now, it's...” he shook his head. “I just can't let you do that.”

“But then, it seems to me like we're on the same page, right? If I go seek him out, tell him we're on to him and he should stop being weird, both our problems will be solved!”

“As if he'll listen to you. He doesn't listen to anybody, Joel.” the frustration was visible on Jimmy's face. “We have a good thing going just ignoring him! I can't- I can't have you leave me behind for him as well.”

But Joel's determination to have some words with the impostor was only getting stronger. “I'm not leaving you behind. I can get through to him. I know I'm the real me, and he knows he's the fake me. It'll be fine, Jimmy.”

Jimmy didn't speak for a minute.

Eventually he said: “I just need you to promise me. Promise me you'll be on my side after this.”

Joel couldn't imagine not being on Jimmy's side for something this serious. “Of course I will. I promise.” Joel replied.

Jimmy sighed again, but said: “Alright. Joel lives east of the ancient capital, in the floating buildings.”

“Got it. Thanks, Jim.” Joel replied, and readied his rockets to go flying. “I'll be back.”

He was determined to get to the bottom of this. Obviously he enjoyed teasing Jimmy occasionally, but there was clearly something very wrong for any version of Jimmy to loathe any version of Joel that badly.

There was a Joel-shaped error in the world, but it certainly wasn't him.

(ch 1 | ch 6 | ch 8)

[kira-anon-uwu]

chunk from my write's block document

context: i have a fic just for me that i've only shared the majority of with one person that i only work on when i can't focus on anything else. it probably will never see the light of day but here's a funny part that i genuinely feel bad not using in something meant to be posted.

~-~-~

He climbed the ladder in the meantime, idly tapping his hands against the empty part of the shelf as he waited for Wilbur to come back.

"So, I'm hoping you spent your time at home resting,", Wilbur started as he handed up books.

Tommy let out an annoyed groan, contemplating dropping a book on the man's face. "Can we talk about literally anything else?"

"Thoughts on the art of eating sand-"

"I slept while I wasn't here, yeah."

Wilbur exhaled out of his nose with amusement. "That's good. And you explained it to your parents?"

"Yeah, and they didn't bother me about it nearly as much as you are."

"That's not as comforting of a statement as you think it is."

"It's my way of telling you you should drop it,", he rolled his eyes.

"And this is my way of making sure I'm not going to have to file an insurance claim of some kind because you dropped dead in the middle of my store."

"Please, give me some credit; I'd go die somewhere out back, probably."

"Tommy, am I going to have to start making regular checks of the alley to make sure you're not sitting back there like a salvage animatronic?"

"Y'know what? Yes, you do. Gonna wait for you to drag my ass back inside so I can hide in the vents and kill you."

"Which one would you be?"

"You can't hit me with a question like that and expect an immediate answer,", Tommy stopped to think about it, ignoring the way Wilbur was laughing at him as he genuinely considered it, "Probably be Lefty, I recon."

That made Wilbur laugh even harder, dropping the book in his hand back in the box as he tried to collect himself again. "Why Lefty?"

"Because he's cool, and he's got the fucking puppet inside of him."

"I was assuming you'd say some shit like Moltent Freddy."

"Well yeah, if I wanted to be basic about it."

"And what about me, then?"

"Easy; you get to be purple guy."

"Tommy, I didn't sit there and listen to you explain that whole fucking timeline for nine hours for you to compare me to a child murderer."

He looked down at the man with the smallest amount of empathy he could muster, giving him a shrug.

Wilbur glared at him before moving the ladder down the shelves.

"Holy shit, you don't have to prove my point!", Tommy's grip on the ladder tightened, and he leaned closer to it as the wheels grinded against the rails.

"Sorry, couldn't hear you over my insatiable bloodlust. I'm trying to make Remnant."

"Think you making me bust my fucking head open would be Agony instead!"

"I am being one-hundred percent honest with you when I tell you I do not know the difference between the two, and I genuinely do not give a fuck."

"I don't think Scott Cawthon does, either."

"Can we stop with the FNAF talk now, please?", Wilbur sighed, "Bringing it up again reminded me of how exhausting it is to think too hard about it."

"You're the one that brought it up!"

"And now I'm the one putting it away; sticking the missing children in their graves, one might say."

"Ok, Mr.Afton. How many more books are there?"

"I will beat your ass."

"Oh, but you were so worried about me before."

Wilbur rolled his eyes, moving the empty box from the top of his cart to get to the next one. "That was before you started calling me fucking William Afton."

"But think about it; same first name, he probably stank as well, you've probably murdered a few people-"

"You can't prove that."

"I can absolutely prove that you stink,", Tommy snorted, going to grab the next book from Wilbur's hand.

The man narrowed his eyes at him, waiting for Tommy to have a good grip on the thing before yanking it back hard enough that the ladder Tommy was standing on started falling backwards from the shelf.

Wilbur managed to catch him before he hit the floor, but the sudden motion absolutely did not feel good on his injury.