#the newer chapters are a lot better

[imwritesometimes]

I have this very very stupid marchly fic idea that I've thought about on and off for over a year and I might just say fuck it and write it since the appropriate season will be upon us soon but also... it's very silly & stupid and I'm not sure how to flesh it out even into a short one shot cause all I've really got is the idea for this scene that amuses me to no end but would probably not be an amusing funny one-off to many other ppl

[mejomonster]

To get good at telling stories... writing stories... one must... practice by writing stories ;-;

[baekuras]

anyhow how the fuck did I miss Kiyan’s tag on AO3 getting over 100 now? Good fucking work team thank you

[obsidian-art04]

Postin this seperate from the actual chapter <3

Old ver here we go!

I think the new one is nicer :D

[grandline-fics]

Immune To Your Charms

DESCRIPTION: Soulmates are incapable of harming the other in any way. Normally that would be a good thing but not when you're meant to be enemies.

WARNINGS: It's Doflamingo so it features mentions of killing/ injury/ general violence. Soulmate! AU

CHARACTERS: Doflamingo

WORDS: 1,649

A/N: Part of the Good For Your Soul Series. I hope you all like how this turned out as much as I did. This is my first time writing for Doflamingo so hopefully I got his personality right enough

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

DIRECTORY | PROMPT LIST

Chapter One (here) | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven (coming soon)

——————

Your Marine unit’s task had been a simple one, stay hidden and observe. That was it, any criminal activity was to be recorded for physical evidence and reported immediately. No interference at all. Your superior believed that this group of lowlifes were working directly under someone else, someone bigger and they were who they wanted to take down, not a bunch of easily replaced criminals. The only way to completely rid the evil and corruption of the town was to go for the root. That had been the plan and everyone had stuck to it as they had been ordered. That was until one of the newer recruits with a thirst to prove himself decided to be reckless. 

The second there was confirmation that the criminal group had a large stockade of weapons, ammunition and barrels of explosives in the nearby warehouse the idiot acted. They believed if they destroyed such a valuable haul then it would surely draw their target out from the shadows. You and the others who were more experienced of the unit drilled it into his head that it wasn’t a wise decision. Not only could a lot go wrong with potential endangerment to civilians but it was also not part of anyone’s orders. For a moment you thought he listened but as you turned in for the night you didn’t like the look you caught in the cadet’s eyes. 

It was just as well that you couldn’t sleep because it meant you were able to catch the cadet sneaking out of your encampment. Swearing under your breath you grabbed your weapon and pulled on your shoes to hurry after him. If you could get him back to camp without any harm done he could still keep his job. That had been the plan anyway but he’d managed to make use of his head start and snuck into the warehouse before you got there. You slid to a stop outside the warehouse and felt a chill run over your spine despite it being a comfortably warm night. You'd been so focused on catching up that you hadn’t noticed that there was no-one guarding the warehouse. Even for a group of low tier criminals there would be no way they would leave such precious cargo unattended. Panicked you looked towards the warehouse as the faint sound of a match being struck sounded.

In a blink the explosion boomed through the air, your body being thrown back and crashing loudly and painfully through the stacks of crates behind you. Ears ringing and vision swimming you hit the ground and tumbled until the momentum died off leaving you flat on your back and blinking through the pain and choking on the smoke and ash hanging heavily in the air. You managed to roll onto your side and shakily braced your hands onto the cold ground to push yourself up. You winced and gasped sharply at the feeling of your ribs grinding painfully, protesting any movement. Something was either cracked or broken and only now did you feel the wetness of blood against your head spreading against your cheek. 

For a moment you foolishly dared to think it could have been worse but then as you sensed people approach you knew better than to tempt fate. Of course those that had set the trap would make themselves known. One by one your sight took in the figures of those you’d been observing but then sauntering behind at a relaxed pace and amused, wild grin shaping his face was the Warlord Doflamingo. The bright flames burning what remained of the warehouse glinting against his silhouette only made him appear more menacing. In that moment you knew there was no getting out of this alive. The warehouse of weapons was his operation, if he let you live to report to your superiors it could be enough to revoke his protected status as Warlord and that wasn’t an option. 

You knew that nothing could be done. You were outmatched by him and seeing two new individuals lingering behind him told you he had more subordinates lurking. If he'd had enough time to rig the warehouse to explode then chances were he already knew about the rest of your unit too. If he didn’t know then you weren't going to be the one to give them up. Remaining on the ground you reached for your gun, glaring at Doflamingo when his laughter began to fill the space between you. His steps remained leisurely as he continued to advance towards you. Her was the grinning cat and you were the wounded bird, he could take his time and he certainly wasn’t afraid of your silly little pistol. However his smile twitched when you turned the barrel towards your own chest, not his. Now that was curious but boring. 

For the first time that night he put effort into his movements and closed the distance, his large hand closing over yours and disarming you with a simple tug. Frustrated at not even being allowed to go on your terms you glared furiously at the man in front of you. The adrenaline was wearing off and the pain was getting stronger. “I’m not going to tell you anything. Just kill me and be done with it.”

“Oh I don’t need you to tell me anything.” Doflamingo chuckled, playfully spinning the gun on his finger with one hand while this others flexed to let you see the faint glimmer of his strings. “I do need you to do something for me though. You’re going to deal with the rest of your unit and then I’ll kill you. How’s that sound?”

“Sounds awful.” You spat out at him, angered that you’d suspected right and he knew about your unit and also devastated that you couldn’t save them. You knew a small amount about Doflamingo’s abilities from talk at the Marine base but hadn’t witnessed it for yourself. It was just another sickening addition of salt on the wound that you’d be forced to kill your unit, your friends before he would be bored enough to end you with that power. “Can you at least knock me out before you control me to do it?”

Doflamingo chuckled once more, intrigued by your attitude. He'd encountered begging, desperate attempts at buying their life, defiant bluster that they’d never do as he wished, but he couldn't recall someone be so accepting of their fate but still so headstrong. For a second he considered your request but then decided no, he wanted you to be conscious for the fun. With a twitch and arch of his fingers he used his strings to make you his puppet. He rose from his crouched position in front of you and looked down in confusion to see you hadn't moved as he directed. His stretched grin lessened as he moved his hand again, a clear order for you to lift your arm into the arm but it didn’t budge. You were unaffected. 

With laboured breaths you tilted your head up to regard him silently, that fierce look never leaving your hazy, pain-filled stare. You were waiting for him to take control of your body. If he waited any longer you would pass out from your injuries. Now he was in no mood for his tormenting games. Keeping his hand by his side and hidden by the mass of pink feathers he created a new attack, one to slice your throat with enough force to take your head cleanly from your neck. 

You shivered as a sudden wisp of air sped over you and then you flinched to hear the grating of stone. Glancing back you saw the deep gouge cut into the ground behind you, a long but clean line. Unconsciously Doflamingo took a step back from you with your head turned. Something was wrong. His power wasn’t working. Just who were you? What had you done? Anger and a sudden feeling of power being tipped from him he turned sharply and sent his threads at his low ranked underlings, feeling a rush of satisfaction to see their bodies jerk in complete surrender to his Devil Fruit. Wordlessly he commanded them to advance to where the other Marines were, to kill them like you had meant to. “Wh-what are you doing?“

Doflamingo turned and watched you force the power into your heavy limbs, the force of the explosion taking their toll on you. Slowly you pushed into the ground once more to try and make yourself stand but that was the final straw for your body to handle. With a groan, you crumpled onto the ground, unconscious and completely at Doflamingo’s mercy, that was if he actually had any. As Doflamingo continued to stare at you he heard Diamante approach, his elite officer just as confused by what went wrong. “Doffy? What happened?” 

“A complication.” Doflamingo answered, trying once more to attack your defenceless form with your own pistol but the bullet whizzed by you even though his aim was perfect and struck the ground less than inch to the left of your head. He couldn’t risk someone like you being allowed to remain out in the open but deep down he couldn’t give the order to the others to kill you. He told himself that he wouldn’t do that, not until he knew exactly what your strange power was. For all he knew others out there were capable of such feats against his powers too. Until he knew the cause and how to ensure he could deal with it he wasn’t taking any chances. In the distance Doflamingo heard the sound of gunfire and yelling as his men attacked your unit. With a huff he crouched down and lifted you over his shoulder. “Come on, we're going home. Send their picture to Vergo, I want to know exactly who I’m dealing with.” 

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TAG LIST (If I've missed anyone or if you want to be added just let me know) @3v37773, @tsaaps , @i-am-all-love-puns-and-lazy , @sanemisnonexistenteyebrow , @fiery-captain-spider-santa @kabloswrld , @atanukileaf , @ane5e , @stuckinthewrongworld

[skepticalcatfrog]

Kerch, Ghezenism, and the Van Eck Family

The title pretty much sums it up. This is a rather extensive analysis, and to be honest with you all it is 2,500+ words. So get into this absolute beast at your own risk!

~~~

From my experience in this fandom, I've seen it discussed very frequently how important religion is in the Grishaverse. Not only is it very deeply developed, to the point where many of the different countries have unique beliefs - which I'm not sure is seen very often in newer literature - but the various religious systems are also deeply important to many major characters, such as Matthias and Inej. However, one aspect of Grishaverse religions that seems to be overlooked somewhat often is the Kerch religion of Ghezenism. This may just be me, but I have a lot of thoughts on it. A big reason for that is that Wylan is, and always has been, my favorite character, and the culture surrounding Ghezen is actually a very important part of his character for many reasons. When you look into it in the way that I have, you discover that there are a lot of peculiar aspects of Ghezenism that make it stand out, as well as many ties that it has to major aspects of the story.

Right away, one thing that makes Kerch religion different from the others is how deeply connected to the economy it is. So much so that a lot of aspects of the two subjects are one and the same. Given that Ketterdam is a city largely fueled by commerce, it makes sense that Ghezenism would heavily tie into Kerch culture as well. Symbols of Ghezen can be found in many places throughout the city, even beyond the Church of Barter. A very good example of this is Vellgeluk, the island where the Crows meet Van Eck expecting to get their reward from the Ice Court heist: “Smugglers called it Vellgeluk, “good luck,” because of the paintings still visible around the base of what would have been the obelisk tower: golden circles meant to represent coins, symbols of favor from Ghezen, the god of industry and commerce,” (Six of Crows, Chapter 44). This just goes to show how many people in Ketterdam, and the wider country of Kerch as well, put their faith in Ghezen. Vellgeluk is a chosen place for smugglers to do business, specifically because favors of Ghezen are still present there. 

Another interesting part of that passage is the fact that Ghezen is referred to as the god of industry and commerce. Kerch may have other gods, but as far as I can remember - and I may be wrong, but I don't think I am - we never hear about any of them. A similar situation can be found in Fjerda, where Djel is specifically the god of life, implying the existence of other gods. In Fjerda, it is very clear that Djel is mainly what they base their culture and belief system around. This makes perfect sense for a god of life, but isn't Ketterdam’s situation a bit more unusual? The most frequently discussed god, Ghezen, represents industry. We can assume Ghezen is the primary god within the Kerch religious system. Not to mention that their largest church is called the Church of Barter, barter obviously being a term that has much to do with economics. Ketterdam, if not the entire country of Kerch, seems to have no real concept of the separation of church and state. They quite literally hold auctions inside of the church; the auctioning of Kuwei is not a singular event.

The impacts of religion can also be seen in the culture and behavior of the people of Kerch, as seen in a brief section of Crooked Kingdom. “Kerch women—even the wealthy ones—didn’t bother with anything as frivolous as embroidery or needlepoint. Ghezen was better served by tasks that benefited the household,” (Crooked Kingdom, Chapter 14). Obviously, things like this are much more typical of religion. But I would argue that even this holds traces of the same values expressed by the connection between Ghezenism and the economy. It is specifically mentioned here that Kerch women are encouraged to participate in tasks that will “benefit the household”. This displays one of the very prominent aspects of the Ghezenite religion, which is that one of the most important things a person can do is be productive, and create a prosperous life for themselves and their family.

In addition to direct ties between Ghezenism and the Kerch economy, occasionally the legal system is put into the mix as well. While considering what consequences his father might face after the events of the auction, Wylan reveals this piece of information: “Knowingly entering into a false contract for the purpose of subverting the market wasn’t just illegal, it was considered blasphemy, a blight on the works of Ghezen, and the penalties were harsh,” (Crooked Kingdom, Chapter 41). Essentially what he means by this is that not only is tampering with the economy against the law, but it is also heavily frowned upon in a religious sense, and anyone who does so will face punishment from both sides. This is extremely unique, even within the Grishaverse. This single sentence also reveals another very interesting thing about Kerch society. The market, as it exists in Ketterdam, is believed to be a creation of god - it is referred to here as being a part of the “works of Ghezen”. That, more than anything, is concrete proof of just how interconnected the economy of Kerch is with its primary religion. This also means that committing a crime such as Van Eck did isn't simply illegal (which we can assume he has no issues with), it is also an act that goes against his own religion. But stop to consider for a moment: does he really have a problem with that either?

There are numerous examples throughout both books of Van Eck blatantly abusing the values of his own religion. On its own, the teachings of Ghezenism aren't inherently bad. After all, things such as tampering with the market for your own gain are actively discouraged using the threat of blasphemy, which I'd say is generally beneficial. The issue, however, arises when Van Eck in particular attempts to twist some of these values in order to justify his own actions. If there is one single quote from the duology that exemplifies this, it would be this one: “Ghezen shows his favor to those who are deserving, to those who build cities, not the rats who eat away at their foundations. He has blessed me and my dealings. You will perish, and I will prosper. That is Ghezen’s will,” (Six of Crows, Chapter 45). Van Eck openly believes that, since he is a member of the upper class, he is somehow more deserving of a blessing. He is insistent that “Ghezen's will”, or what he interprets as what Ghezen wishes for him to do, is to trample others in order to further his own success. 

It doesn't matter to him who stands in his way, and it never will, because his goal is only to make himself more wealthy; he simply hides this behind a thin veil of piety. This motivation is especially clear when he is speaking to Inej while he is holding her captive. “When I leave this world, the greatest shipping empire ever known will remain, an engine of wealth, a tribute to Ghezen and a sign of his favor. Who will remember a girl like you, Miss Ghafa? What will you and Kaz Brekker leave behind but corpses to be burned on the Reaper’s Barge?” (Crooked Kingdom, Chapter 7). He frames people less fortunate than him - in this case Kaz and Inej - as forgettable and unimportant. The only thing he considers truly important is wealth, which he equates to power. He even references Ghezen here, claiming again that all of his actions, as well as his empire and legacy, are meant to show his dedication to his religion. He also claims that his ability to attain this level of success is a sign that Ghezen favors him. That in particular is a display of his extremely warped view of Ghezenism. The truth is that his success can only be attributed to his unethical actions, but the fact that he claims it is due to Ghezen's favor means that he will never be able to be convinced that he is wrong. He has what he believes to be an airtight justification.

His classism is also extremely evident, while indirectly, in an exchange between Kaz and Wylan earlier on in Crooked Kingdom. ““Your father much for charity?” “No. He tithes to Ghezen, but he says charity robs men of the chance at honest labor,”” (Crooked Kingdom, Chapter 2). This shows that Van Eck is very protective over his wealth. Which, quite frankly, is more likely than not the exact opposite of what Ghezenism is intended to promote. Based on what we are shown from an outside perspective, it seems as though one of the main aspects of Ghezenism is to create a prosperous economy for everyone. However, what Van Eck seems to believe is that he is intended to simply accumulate as much wealth as he possibly can, and keep it all for himself.

It is incredibly clear that Van Eck doesn't care about the well-being of anyone other than himself when it comes down to it. It could be argued that he cares for Alys, and will care for their child when it is born, but this simply cannot be proven. Just look at the exact mirror of this situation: Marya and Wylan. Wylan states about his parents, “I think he really loved her. They fought all the time, sometimes about me, but I remember them laughing a lot together too,” (Crooked Kingdom, Chapter 14). If we are to believe that this is true, and Van Eck truly did love Marya, that doesn't change the fact that he didn't hesitate to send her away as soon as he discovered that Wylan couldn't read or write. There is no evidence to say that he wouldn't do the same to Alys, under similar circumstances. 

And, of course, this all leads back to the matter of Wylan. When Van Eck decided that Wylan wouldn't be useful to him, he stopped caring about him very quickly. Near the end of Six of Crows, we hear more of the specifics on Van Eck's opinion of Wylan. “I have hired the best tutors from every corner of the world. I’ve tried specialists, tonics, beatings, hypnotism. But he refused to be taught. I finally had to accept that Ghezen saw fit to curse me with a moron for a child. Wylan is a boy who will never grow to be a man. He is a disgrace to my house,” (Six of Crows, Chapter 45). Van Eck believes that Wylan is a curse from Ghezen, purely because he thinks that Wylan will be incapable of producing profits for their business. This is perhaps one of the most egregious examples of his blatant abuse of his own religion, because he is entirely willing to abandon and even murder his own son in order to fulfill his goals, which he claims is all Ghezen's will.

There is no feasible way Wylan would be able to grow up being raised by Van Eck, and not be affected by his religious ideas in some way. In fact, there is evidence contained in the text that proves this rather thoroughly. There are even certain things that have already been cited within this analysis that can be circled back to, such as the quote just above. This quote exemplifies the sort of treatment Wylan was subjected to while growing up. This is mostly speculation, but it's safe to assume he was told at a very young age that his own father considered him a punishment from god. That is objectively terrible, and we know that by the age of eight his father was his only parent. The psychological impacts that that would have on a child that young are unimaginable. 

Additionally, we can return to this quote from Crooked Kingdom: “When I leave this world, the greatest shipping empire ever known will remain, an engine of wealth, a tribute to Ghezen and a sign of his favor. Who will remember a girl like you, Miss Ghafa? What will you and Kaz Brekker leave behind but corpses to be burned on the Reaper’s Barge?” (Crooked Kingdom, Chapter 7). While Van Eck is not talking to Wylan here, and Wylan isn't even present at the time, this passage still indirectly displays Van Eck's feelings about Wylan. Here he is expressing the fact that he maintains that if a person is not able to create wealth and prosperity for themselves, they are essentially useless. As we know from the previous example, he believes this of Wylan as well.

It is evident that Wylan was taught Ghezenite values from a young age. While examining the exterior of the Church of Barter, his thoughts include this: “He didn’t need to be able to read the words engraved over the arch. He’d heard his father repeat them countless times. Enjent, Voorhent, Almhent. Industry, Integrity, Prosperity,” (Crooked Kingdom, Chapter 31). This is confirmation that Van Eck frequently encouraged Wylan to think about these values, and it can be inferred that it likely wasn't in a particularly positive manner. Industry, integrity, and prosperity are clearly the three main ideals of this religion, and we can easily be led to the conclusion that Van Eck is certain his son is capable of none of them.

It is also suggested that Wylan may even associate his father's disapproval with religion subconsciously as well. A good example of this is in Crooked Kingdom, after Wylan is taken to the Church of Barter. “Van Eck shook his head. “Every time I think you cannot disappoint me further, you prove me wrong.” They were in a small chapel topped by a dome. The oil paintings on the wall featured battle scenes and piles of armaments,” (Crooked Kingdom, Chapter 31). While this is also simply meant to provide the reader with a description of the environment, the juxtaposition between the two halves of this passage cannot be an accident. What we can observe here is that after Van Eck once again expresses his ever-present disappointment with Wylan, emphasis is immediately put on the fact that they are in the church. This, along with the other passages listed, creates a clear link between Wylan's negative relationship with his father and the effects that their shared religion has had on it.

What I consider to be one of the most important quotes for this subject, despite also being the shortest one used, comes near the end of Six of Crows. After Wylan has played his role in foiling Van Eck's plan to trick the Crows, he says this: “Maybe you can pray to Ghezen for understanding, Father,” (Six of Crows, Chapter 45). This is sort of the first act of retribution that the reader sees from Wylan. He has just made his father look like a fool, and then he practically spits in his face by taking the thing that was used against him for so long - their religion - and using it against his father instead. Not only is this moment incredibly satisfying, it also marks the beginning of Wylan's growth as a character that eventually leads to him being able to stand up to his father in more ways.

Despite being arguably the least explored Grishaverse religion in online spaces, I find Ghezenism to be extremely interesting when it comes to the ways it ties into the themes of the story. It represents wider, more general themes found throughout the book, such as the idea that people often value their own success over the well-being of others, but it contains even more when examined under a closer lens. It opens the door to a completely new aspect of further analyzing the relationship between Wylan and his father, and introduces vital elements of in-depth characterization for both of them. The way Wylan and Van Eck each view the same religion is highly indicative of their individual values, and that is a very interesting thing to expand upon. It simply goes to show just how much thought went into creating both the culture of this world, and the characters who live within it.

[vivwritesfics]

Jester Stole His Thorny Crown

Chapter Five

He never had a choice in his life. His dreams were nothing more that that. Dreams. But then he met a lounge singer at his brother club and everything changed.

Mafia!Au

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Her favourite days were the days that Arthur came to visit. She made him a drink as he sat at the bar, and leaned against it. "He didn't tell you he was getting lessons?" She asked as Arthur sipped his drink.

As soon as he put it in the bar, she took it from him and sipped. "You think Charles would tell me anything like that?"

She shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know him well enough to judge," she mumbled, letting her head fall into her hands. "Honestly, 'Thur, I don't think I want to get to know him well enough."

Arthur offered her a weak smile. "He'll get better, I promise," Arthur said, his fingers reaching out to touch her arm.

He pulled away and stood from the bar. "I've got to go," he said as he stretched.

"Work?" He nodded grimly and she walked around the bar to throw her arms around him. "Try to come back alive, okay?"

Arthur hugged her back. "I'll try."

He took his leave, walking out of the lounge and meeting his brother outside. Charles had refused to come in and now Arthur knew why. He was embarrassed.

When Arthur saw him, he wordlessly climbed into the car.

Back in the club, she walked over to the piano and sat herself down. She didn't play, not yet, instead letting her head fall into her hands.

This life wasn't the one she had envisioned for herself. Even when she was begging her mother to get her piano lessons, she never thought she'd be playing it for her career. She never thought she'd be performing almost every night in a lounge bar.

She never thought that lounge bar would be bought by a member of the Leclerc family.

She had moved to Monaco with the money her parents had left her after they had died. The lounge was supposed to be a temporary job, something to help her pay rent until she found her dream job, whatever that might have been.

Within the four weeks that she had been working at the lounge, it changed ownership. The young, cute guy came in and changed everything.

He redecorated, put in a newer, modern bar, new tables and lighting, and put in a new stage. He got rid of the stage and put in a brand new one, with these fancy lights.

Most of the performers were let go. Actually, every performer but her was let go. She didn't know why Arthur kept her on, but she was incredibly grateful.

She didn't know who Arthur was, didn't know who the Leclerc family was when she first started. Arthur didn't tell her right away. He waited until they were less boss and employee and more friends. When he told her, she didn't judge him. He had proven himself to be lovely and wonderful and she doubted he could hurt a fly.

But Arthur told her almost everything. Before she knew it, it had gone too far, and she knew more than she should have. There was no way she could have gotten out if she wanted to.

Until meeting Charles, Arthur was the only member of the Leclerc family that she really knew. After all he told her, she took time to research them. She found out that Lorenzo was the head of the family. He ran Monaco while trying to make his deceased father proud.

Charles was the ruthless, angry middle child. That was all she knew about him. Anybody who really, truly, knew what he did, well, they had a bullet in their heads.

Arthur was the protected little brother. He'd been on one job before, as far as she knew, and that was when he ended up with a bullet in his arm.

She couldn't help but be worried for her best friend when he left the lounge.

***

"Where are we?"

Arthur looked around at the surroundings as Charles put his car into park. The parking lot was empty, the Verstappen family nowhere to be seen. "We're headed there soon," Charles said. "I... I need to talk to you about something."

He'd never acted like this before. Arthur had never seen his brother, the brother that struck fear into the hearts of anyone that looked at him. "Are you dying?"

Charles glared. "Shut the fuck up. This is serious."

Arthur swallowed.

"Your pianist. How did you get her to like you?"

He let out a laugh as his brother's face went red. When Arthur had first introduced them, in a sense, he had a feeling that they would get along or that Charles would like her. It was a small feeling, and he certainly hadn't expected to be right.

"I can't believe this," she said. "I can't believe it. You have a crush on her! You actually have a crush on her!"

Charles's nostrils flared. "Shut up, I'm not a child," he growled.

Even Arthur was scared enough of his brother that he fell quiet. "I was just nice too her, okay? I didn't flash my guns and I didn't terrify her."

Charles simply grunted. He drove away once again, not speaking a word to his brother. The silence in the car was palpable. Arthur was almost too scared to breathe.

They got to the place where they were meeting the Verstappens. Max leaned against the car while Jos still sat inside. When Charles parked his Ferrari, he pushed away from the car and approached.

Charles and Arthur climbed out of the car. The older Leclerc took the hand that Max was offering him and shook. "Good to see you, mate," he said.

But he looked past Max, looking at Jos in his car. "Is he coming out or..."

"You got somewhere you wanna be, Leclerc?" Max asked with something of a giggle. But it wasn't a proper giggle, because future mafia bosses didn't giggle.

There was a minute where Jos didn't move. He stayed sitting in his car, looking forward. Charles often thought that, anybody who thought him to be terrifying clearly hadn't met Jos Verstappen.

When Jos climbed out of the car, Max returned to his fathers side and the meeting began.

It was the weirdest meeting Charles had ever attended. It was unclear whether Jos wanted to get out of Monaco or to kill them. He was angry, always angry, and he answered in mostly grunts.

Max did most of the talking. Charles walked them around, showed them what they needed to see in their warehouses. He wanted it over and done with as quickly as possible. He had a piano lesson to get to.

When they finally returned to the cars, Jos finally spoke up. "I thought I was to be meeting with Lorenzo," he said.

Arthur went to step forward, but Charles kept him behind. "Sorry, Verstappen, but Lorenzo had things he had to attend to." It wasn't a great excuse, but it was all Charles had. He had no idea what Lorenzo was doing, but he wasn't going to let Verstappen bully his way into a meeting with the head of the family.

Verstappen let out a breath. Wordlessly he climbed into his car. Before the door could shut, he snapped his fingers at Max, who climbed in after him.

Charles and Arthur waited until the Verstappen car had disappeared into the distance until they climbed into Charles' Ferrari. "I'm dropping you at maman's," he said.

"Why? Because it's close to the lounge?"

Charles didn't answer. He only sped up, driving expertly around other cars. When he got to their mothers apartment building, Charles quickly parked and gave Arthur five seconds to get out.

As soon as those five seconds were up he was speeding away again, heading to the lounge. There was maybe an hour before it opened for the night; he figured there was enough time for a lesson.

As he opened the door to the lounge, she was closing the lid of the piano. But, when she saw him, she stopped. "Mr Leclerc," she called. "Charles."

He opened his jacket, revealing no guns. "I come in peace," he called. "I thought we could have a piano lesson."

She nodded her head and he climbed onto the stage. He stripped off his jacket and sat beside her. "You you wanna try something a little more complicated?"

Charles copied her every note. For forty minutes he played at his best. She wouldn't admit she was impressed, she wasn't ready for that much conversation.

But, twenty minutes before the lounge was supposed to open, she stood up. "I'm really sorry, Charles, but we're gonna have to finish. I need to get dinner before we open."

Charles nodded, understanding. He stayed sitting at the piano for a minute more, still playing as she grabbed her jacket and went running out of the lounge. Charles wasn't going anywhere. He was going to stay and watch her performance.

When the rest of the staff started filing into the lounge, Charles stood from the piano. He wandered into the back office and took a seat at the desk. Arthurs desk. In front of him was a schedule.

It wasn't the staff schedule, but a schedule of the performers. And, for every night, there was one name on it.

Suddenly she was running into office. When she saw Charles, she stopped. "Charles I really need to get ready to go on stage."

"Arthur hasn't given you a night off."

"Well, who else do you think is going to perform here," she said as she pulled a black dress from her bag.

Charles clicked his knuckles as he stood up. He was going to have words with Arthur.

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[liv3laughlev]

ROOMMATES ch. 1 // ★.⁗☁️⚬☆

content warnings: unrealistic dormitory.. there’s no way this would happen irl 😭

author’s note: i’m gonna miss the old men from the og but i wanted to try to include some newer characters 😵‍💫 also i feel like i should specify that this is written with a fem reader 😭 mostly just for the plot lmao— also this is so bad for the first chapter i promise it’ll get better i was just trying to get all the men introduced 🌚🙏🏼

masterlist !!

“do you promise to be safe? you’ll be in a dormitory with a bunch of men, and you don’t even know if they’re safe to be around!” your dad said with a worried expression as he helped you pack the last of your bags.

“i’ll be okay.. i mean it. i packed all the protective equipment you bought me. and i will call you if something happens..” you explained, placing a hand on his shoulder as you looked at him sweetly.

he sighed shakily, looking at you lovingly. “i trust you, honey.. just be careful. and visit me when you can, okay?” he asked as he guided you to the driver’s seat of your car, opening the door for you. “i love you, hon..” he said softly as he hugged you tightly, a soft sigh leaving his lips as you hugged him back.

“i love you too, dad.. i’ll call you tonight, okay?” you smiled a little before getting into your car and buckling up, waving goodbye before you drove off.

today was going to be the day you moved into the dormitory at the university you were going to be attending for the next few years. it was going to be the first day of the semester in a couple days and you needed to be unpacked and ready for the day. there wasn’t any dorms available except one room in one of the group dormitories. six rooms, which you were taking the last one. but you had learned that you were going to share the place with five men. you were told that you’d be able to move to a different dorm once there were more openings.

staying home wasn’t much of an option because the university you were going to be attending was an hour away and you had a couple classes every day so you’d likely be completely drained by the end of the day. you’d rather take this than the other option.

you had pulled into the parking lot and made your way up the steps, finding the door to your new home for the next couple months. you took out your key and unlocked the door, opening the door.

you had immediately met eyes with a blonde guy, cleaning supplies in his hands. his eyes lit up a bit and he quickly put away the supplies before he went to you. “you’re our new roommate, yes?” he asked, holding out his hand for you to shake.

you nodded and shook his hand. “yeah..” you spoke, telling him your name.

“that’s a really pretty name!” he said sweetly. “i’m thoma, i think itto is in the kitchen but everyone else aren’t as social so they’re off doing their own things..” thoma explained. a taller guy came out of the kitchen as thoma spoke to you, a little grin on his face and a lollipop in his mouth.

“hi! i couldn’t help but overhear your little chat with thoma and decided to come and say hello.. i’m itto!” itto said as he wrapped an arm around thoma, his muscles contracting a little.

“it’s nice to meet you two.. there’s six of us total, right?” you asked, looking at the two with a gentle expression that had them glancing at each other knowingly and clearing their throats.

“yeah.. there’s me, itto, diluc, alhaitham, and xiao.. you might have a harder time getting to officially meet xiao especially since he usually sticks to staying in his room.” thoma said softly. “by the way, do you need any help with getting your bags inside or unpacking?” he asked.

you smiled. “you don’t have to.. you only just met me i couldn’t ask you to help..” you said sweetly, noticing the way thoma smiled back.

“it’s okay, really.. right, itto?” thoma chuckled, lightly patting itto on the shoulder.

itto nodded. “yeah! we’ll help! which car is yours?” he asked as he went to put on his shoes, thoma following.

you told them what car was yours and watched as they went out to go get your stuff. now you were alone, and part of you got curious about what the rest of the dormitory looked like. you went down the hallway, seeing a couple doors with names on them. the first one you saw must’ve been thoma’s room, his name written on it messily along with a cute but pretty bad drawing of him. you chuckled a little before moving on. most of the names you saw you recognized but haven’t met any of the people yet. it wasn’t long before you saw itto’s door. and then it clicked. he was the one who made all the nameplates. his had things like “me” “the one and oni” stuff like that along with a drawing of him with his muscles out. it was cute!

the next door you saw didn’t have a nameplate yet, it was the only one missing one. you suddenly heard someone open a door and you turned to meet eyes with a man with red hair. he came out of the room with the “diluc” nameplate.

“hi..” you spoke softly. he was so pretty to you, his long hair resting on his shoulders. you could honestly stare at this man for hours if given the chance.

“hello.. i heard someone was moving in, that’s you i’d guess?” he asked, walking over to you.

“yes that’d be me..” you said before introducing yourself. “and you’re.. diluc?” you asked, glancing at the sign again.

“correct..” he confirmed. there was a brief moment of silence between you two before he finally cleared his throat. “i have business to attend to now.. so i’ll see you at dinner later.” diluc spoke, nodding his head when you waved bye. you watched as he walked away, faintly hearing the door to the dormitory open and shut.

before you could really do anything else you heard the front door open and close once more, thoma and itto coming down the hall with all your boxes in hand.

“oh guys— you didn’t have to grab them all in one sitting!” you said in surprise as itto managed to open the door to your new room.

“it’s okay! this counts as my daily workout!” he grinned as he stepped inside and placed down all the boxes he was carrying carefully.

thoma chuckled as he placed down the boxes he held as well. his face was a little flushed from carrying so many boxes, but he didn’t seem to care. “yeah it’s okay, really! let us know if you need any help with anything else, alright?” he smiled.

you smiled a little, a sigh leaving your lips. “thanks you guys.. i will.” you said before guiding them out of your room, waving goodbye before you closed the door.

itto glanced over at thoma with a grin as they went down the hall together. “you like them.” he teased.

thoma’s eyes widened a little in surprise. “what?! what makes you think that?” he asked, clearing his throat a bit.

itto raised an eyebrow. “all you talked about on the way to the car and back was how cool they seemed and how excited you were that they were moving in!” he laughed.

thoma’s face reddened a little, crossing his arms as he sat on the couch in the common area. “i guess i’ll like them a little.. but don’t tell anyone please. i don’t want to scare them off, alright?” he said as itto plopped next to him, resting his legs over thoma’s lap.

“i solemnly swear to keep my mouth shut, and if not i’ll buy you all the snacks you want!” itto grinned, holding up a hand while the other rested on his chest.

thoma let out a sigh of relief. “thanks, itto.. i really do appreciate it..” he said with a gentle smile.

back to you— you were unpacking in your room when you heard a knock on your door. you opened the door and met eyes with a guy with grey hair, his eyes sharp as he looked down at you.

“hello..” you muttered softly, your eyes flickering to take in his appearance. he was tall, built similar to itto. you honestly had no clue how you were supposed to handle yourself in a home full of attractive men.

“hello.. you’re (name) i’ve heard?” he asked, crossing his arms while he looked down at you with a gaze that almost seemed like he was reading you. “thought so..” he spoke when you nodded. “i’m alhaitham.” he introduced himself.

“it’s nice to meet you, alhaitham..” you smiled a bit, noticing the hint of surprise in his eyes. he didn’t really think you’d show any kindness to him, especially since he was just a stranger you happened to live a couple feet away from.

“yeah.. anyway, see you..” he muttered, walking away to his room as you waved.

you thought he was strange, but you guessed it was just him being antisocial. you didn’t think much of it and went back into your room, shutting the door behind you.

hours passed and it was now night. you had just finished your shower, walking out of one of the bathrooms. from what you knew everyone was already asleep, but to your surprise you saw someone you hadn’t met yet leaving a room.

“oh— hello..” you spoke softly, gaining his attention. he glared at you sharply, scaring you just a little. he was cute, not too tall compared to the other guys. “i don’t think i met you yet..” you spoke as you glanced at the nameplate on his door. “xiao,” it read. “you’re xiao, yes?” you asked sweetly. he only nodded in response. “well it’s nice to meet you, xiao..” you said as you smiled.

“yeah.. you too.” he grumbled. he couldn’t really hold eye contact with you, turning his head away from you. you could see a hint of pink on the tips of his ears. cute, he was blushing.

“i’m going to head to bed for the night, but i hope to catch you tomorrow..” you smiled once more as you waved, heading to your door.

“yeah, night..” he murmured, your gaze on him disappearing as you closed yourself into your bedroom.

he sighed a little, glancing at your door which now had your own nameplate, your name written messily on it with a cute doodle of you that itto made.

“hm..” was all he muttered before heading back into his room.

[gremlingottoosilly]

[If you need to be mean] chapter 3

Chapter 1 Chapter 2

Konig has a bit of personal time while thinking about you during a mission. TW: Konig being a huge pervert, Canon-Typical violence, Dub-Con, Innocence kink, Age difference(Konig in his yearly 40, Reader in young 20)

Pairing: Konig x fem!Reader Tags: Fluff, Power Imbalance, Hurt/Comfort, Size Kink, Possessive Konig, Yandere Konig, Creepy scary stalker Konig, written mostly from Konig's perspective

Fun fact – the sound of blood splattering on the ground is very similar to the sound of hand lotion being squeezed on his hand as he desperately palms his dick at the thought of your legs and the curve of your ass perking from that short skirt of yours. 

Even more fun fact – the way his hands are snapping the enemy's necks are very similar to how roughly he squeezes his cock every time the mere thought of your glossy lips wrapped around that damn pen or twisted in a shy smile appears in his mind. 

Not so fun fact – he is still in the middle of the battlefield, with a huge boner. 

— Sector 3 cleared, sir. 

— Affirm, taking the position on the balcony. Hutch, the breach. 

— On it, sir. Getting company out ‘ere. 

— Horangi, get on Hutch’s sector and help him. 

— Thought I had my break, sir. 

— Scheisse, get on with it!

— Affirm, sir. 

Hutch is in the service of breaking windows – König just hopes that no civilian living in that building would be even more mad at them for doing it than they were before. They aren’t doing much, of course, just saving their lives – but he knows better than anyone how harmful for the reputation it might be. Horangi would help with the extraction of enemy soldiers, and newer recruits would finally have a chance of proving themselves without being a total crapsacks of uselessness. 

They all have their duties and König feels weird for not doing anything particularly important. He kills enemies, of course, he already lost count at how many soldiers he killed once they entered the building with possible threats that are spreaded among the multiple rooms. He gives orders and it’s such a weird motion – he was in charge before, of course. He didn’t get the colonel rank right off the bat, but for the first time in at least 20 years of his service, he feels…bored. Dangerously bored, that kind of bored that makes people do crazy and dangerous stuff just to feel something. 

He might just clear a whole section by himself – he has done it before, he got his first few ranks for being able to kill dozens of enemies while not getting major injuries himself. He almost forgot the rush of bloodlust that a good fight brought him – and he is almost bored enough to not even care whether he would survive this fight or not. Adrenaline is pumping in his head, that urging desire to do something fun is breaking all the doctrines and rules that he obliged when climbing up the hierarchy. 

It’s not really fun, to make your soldiers kill people for you – he would love to do it himself, of course, feel their pulses slowly dying up under his grasp. It’s not really fun, being forced to do everything by the rules, checking if there really are no civilians in these locations, to ask anyone who is not shooting at him immediately, if they want to yield before killing them anyway because they decided to attack him with some secretly holstered weapon. 

He can break his own orders and just eliminate the whole cell by himself – he has done it before already, when he had nothing to lose but his 3 months of experience in the army and some cash that he got from parents when they were still talking to him. It would be fun, really, it might make life worth living again, even for just a second. He picks up his gun in a more productive, dangerous manner, almost falling to the desire to fight hand-to-hand, to see life slowly dying out in their eyes. He can…

There aren’t a lot of things that can really distract him from his bloodlust. The desire to kill, destroy, to do everything in his power to make someone else suffer, pay for the sins of his traumas without knowing shit about it. He never snapped out of it on someone else’s accord before, it was always because he got tired or adrenaline rush washed off from his system. Nothing is able to really calm him down, even the fancy toys his therapist is trying to provide to him as some dumb rituals – breathe, count to ten, please don’t kill everyone in this room because they looked at you funny, all of these useless things. 

There isn't a lot of stuff that comes to mind when he is in battle – except for the desire to kill. But then he thinks of you again, the way you are definitely going to be tight around his cock, probably bulging with outlines of his shaft ravaging your smaller body, how sweet your moans can be while you are screaming his name and making everyone on base know that no, their commander isn’t some sexless and faceless monstrous creature that can never experience human emotions. He thinks of how perfect you would look like under him, begging him to let you cum – and suddenly, even when another enemy is charging at him, feeble attempt to take him by surprise, he isn’t really thinking about how sweet the sound of bullets going through his flesh is. 

Jerking off in the middle of the battlefield isn’t the craziest thing he had done, but he would rather think about your ass in a more comfortable environment. 

— Pick your guts off the floor. 

It’s funny, how the enemy soldier is clenching on his wounds before inevitably falling down. He wants to take some trophy off his body, he seems like an officer of some sorts – and König would gladly bring you a gift. Maybe a finger or an ear – barbaric, of course, but he wants you to understand all parts of his life, not just some lush gifts he can and will also bring you. A perfect girl of his dreams – you and your adorable little smile every time he does something that he almost considered too creepy – would love him for coming home with blood of his enemies on his hands. 

Love of his life – you and that nice pair of legs you have, that would look just perfect on his shoulders as he bullies his whole length inside your body – would adore him for each kill he has, for each life of his enemies that he took. He wants to imagine your face if you knew how dangerous he is – would you be scared? He would calm you down immediately, he would try to be gentle, but you have to know how strong he is, this is the point! 

Love of his life – you and that pretty mouth of yours that he stares all of the time, wondering how cute you would be with lips wrapped around his cock, throat gagging at his shaft – would appreciate him for his job, no matter how many lives he took. You would understand that in order for you not to have to work, he needs to be as strong and capable as possible – he has enough savings and enough paychecks to keep you afloat, making you his adorable little housewife. With kids running around, possibly – he never thought about children before, never had the right time and a right person but with you and your caring nature, creating a little family would be just perfect. 

— Holy shit, sir. Permission to enter? 

Horangi looks at the room in front of him – bodies of enemies laying around, some with knife stabs, some with nothing more than one deliberate bullet. He knows his colonel’s work, he was working with König from his first deployment in KorTac, but this…he would never get used to the way his commander can just throw people around like sacks of apples without a care in the world. He smiles under his mask, appreciating how they won’t have to clean up after. Perks of being a merc, not a member of the actual army. 

— Granted. Don’t slip on blood, sergeant. 

König smiles under his mask and wipes some of the blood that splattered on his hood. Shit, he would have to wash it later – he has spare ones, of course, some of the old ratty shirts he has from that weird rock phase he has at the start of his deployment with mercenaries. His thoughts trails to your body and how adorable you would look in his clothes – you are so much smaller than him, and he is simply too damn big to anyone, so no matter your body type, you would look like an angel in his T-shirt. 

Fuck. 

The thought of simply jerking off in the middle of the battlefield to get off with some tension from thinking about you in his clothes trails on his mind. No one would notice, probably, they are already running faster than scheduled for this mission – and judging by the way he just murdered a whole rooms worth of terrorists while dreaming of your body stretched on his cock, he still has a bit of time for himself. What was this weird shit about taking care of yourself that his therapist suggested? Flower masks? Drinking blood of his enemies? Sipping cheap alcohol while calling it self-care because he can always find a really nice snack in between those perfect legs of yours? 

— Are you alright, sir? Can’t believe you did it by yourself. 

Horangi takes a note of the bulge growing in his commander’s pants and hell no, he isn't going to be a part of this. He appreciates everything that König is doing, he is a great soldier, a father to his men, even though he is barely older than some of them, he isn’t that type of monster that would lead troops to certain death – but Hong-jin won’t take a part of whatever deranged kink he has. He might appreciate it from afar, he might send his condolences to the poor girl that caught his attention – but he doesn’t want to be here when the deranged monster of his commander would want some warm body to bury his dick in. 

Maybe he should get that girl’s number and call her immediately. 

Maybe he should do what a good sergeant is supposed to, and call a graveyard service right away. And some plan B in case the girl would survive. 

— Not broken. What is the situation in other sectors? 

— All good. Hutch broke a computer, sending the data to base now. 

— Think we got the lead? 

— Who knows, sir. They are sneaky bastards. 

Honestly, König wouldn’t be so sad about having to stop in this country for a bit longer. He just needs some more time to court you, to find you a right ring – he knows that he can’t propose right away, mother raised a gentleman who doesn’t want to hurt his bride by forcing her too much. He would possibly need another month, with how rare your encounters are. Fuck, he wants to be with you, find time to at least visit your house at night when you are probably asleep, not even thinking about a silent force protecting you from not just terrorist scum, but anyone who can hurt you. 

You would love something shiny, he knows it – maybe a big diamond in the middle, probably platinum as a metal of choice. He hates how cheap gold looks sometimes, he hates how flashy that is – but he would buy you anything your heart could possibly want. Maybe a necklace, something to remember him buying – you would look adorable with bruises from his grip on your neck, and some delicate charm in the softness of your collarbones. 

Thinking about you on the battlefield only makes his life tighter and his dick harder – he doesn’t want to be indecent in front of his soldiers, so he dismisses Horangi and calls on the comms to finish the mission. 

*** He has enough self-control to not jerk off at the thought of your body in the middle of the mission. 

However, he doesn’t have enough self-control not to jerk off at the thought of your body, glossing in the water next to him as he fantasizes about you two sharing a shower. Not on the base, obviously, even without dozens of naked bodies of his men around him – he technically has a separate shower room, but something about people staring at each other’s naked butts makes their bond stronger, and he tries to be close with his men, so they would stop being so fucking scared of their commander. Even though some recruit already started to prepare funerals for whatever poor girl their colonel has an eye on – mostly because no woman should be subjected to the sheer torture of having sex with…that. 

He enters showers the last, hoping that no one would stare at him this time – having a boner after the mission is normal, adrenaline kicking in, the urge to reproduce making soldiers into a horny bastards, but he still doesn’t want anyone to stare too closely. 

He palms himself at the thought of you with him, helping each other shower – he will buy you some expensive body lotion, stuff that all the girls are obsessed with, as he thinks. He would never tell anyone how much he also likes bath products that smell sweet, like roses or candies – that he visited that extremely bright body shop too many times per months, buying all of this expensive bath bombs to just stare at them and remember that yeah, even the colonel’s apartment on base doesn’t have bathtub and he can’t really use it. 

He thinks about buying a house with a large bathroom – so you can take baths together and indulge in shower sex way more often than a man in his years should. He would love to take you to the mall or something like this, to hold the stuff you bought while you would later for it on your knees in front of him. He would…

König knows that he is big – that he would probably destroy your pussy the first time you two would have sex. You would squirm under him, begging him to take it out – he won’t, of course, you need to learn how to take his cock properly, how to please your future husband as a good girl you are. He will try to be gentle, but the self-control he has is slipping very thin lately – he can’t even sustain the modest thoughts about you in battle, when he is supposed to be worried about saving his life. 

He spread the lotion on his dick – nothing flowery, the fragrance isn’t even distantly sweet, he doesn’t want his soldiers to think of him weirdly for not having a typical manly shower product, of course, he has a bloodthirsty reputation to uphold. He palms his dick with zero gentleness, knowing already that softness isn’t going to cut it out for him right now. He wants to know how you will do it – will you be soft with him, scared of making him feel pain from your actions? Or will you try to be faster, make him beg for release only to tease him more and more, completely subverting the power dynamic you have? He would be alright with everything, as long as it's your hands on his body, as long as you are giving him your full attention. 

He tries to be quiet, not to moan your name – adorable fucking name, how could someone so goddamn perfect even exist on this earth, let alone actually be in his presence. He doesn’t just have a chance with you – he will take you no matter what, knowing exactly what your little smiles and silly giggles left. You might not be as obsessed with him as he is, but he will make you, eventually. He touches himself with roughness, not allowing even an inch of gentleness as he palms his dick, teasing his tip and imagining your hand instead of his. 

He is completely normal and totally not a creep while imagining a woman that is probably twice younger than him. He can be a little bit weird, of course, but you were giving him nothing but the right signals – he already got used to rejection in the past, but something in that adorable look in your eyes told him that you wouldn’t be like his past crushes. He would be embarrassed at liking you so badly, but what can he do if you are just so damn adorable? 

He cums in his hand and thanks god that water is quick enough to wash away the evidence of his shame – he doesn’t want to jerk off anymore, he wants to be with you, as close as possible. You were already seeing each other for more than a week, and if you count your meetings as dates, you would be at third already – and like a good girl you are, you now can have sex with him without looking like a slut. He would wait for you, of course, but every day spent without hearing your voice is making him go crazy. And, well, this isn’t very good for his job performance – as a good soldier and amazing leader, he is obliged to have an obedient little thing on his lap, as a way of making him relaxed. He wonders if there is some government program for that case. *** You think about this guy – König, colonel, fighter with terrorists and a supposed hero in rusty, camo armor. He is so much older than you – you saw the news about him, not really talking about the age, of course, but you did the math already. He can’t be any younger than late thirties, and the thought of having such an older man pinning over you is…scary. And a little bit delightful. Not like you need to have someone as dangerous as him with you right now, you have too much troubles already while living in a terrorist infested country and working at a shitty low wage job without any protection, dating a guy who probably has a girlfriend in each country he got deployed in isn’t something you need. 

You know how military men are like – a bunch of teenagers in adult suits, they are being spoon fed with propaganda about the glory of their arms and have absolutely zero respect for women and the general population. Guy probably already has a wife! She sits somewhere in secret, maybe raising some adorable Austrian kids, all while her husband is doing very unfaithful stuff with other ladies overseas. 

You don’t even like him – you never saw his face and while yes, he is kinda mysterious and it makes you want to do things with him, you are also value your safety and desire not to get used by some rich military asshole who is…actually very shy and can’t even look you in the eyes while giving you money and whispering a bit dirty things in your ears. 

However, you have a really important thing tonight – a really nice guy from the cafe you work at, the waiter from the second shift, asked you out! Not on a date, as he said, but you wouldn’t be against going out to drink with him and possibly taking your relationships a bit further. Dating your coworkers might be the only possibly fun thing you can do at such a devastatingly shitty job as yours, and you are going to turn that into the situationships of a lifetime. 

You are too excited to be out with someone your age to even look around you. 

König, just spending his free time after a successful infiltration op that lasted 3 days – without you, terrible, terrible situations – wasn’t as unaware of your presence. And he already crossed the reasons why he should even let you work at this cafe at this point. 

Maybe, the owner deserves a little visit. Right after the guy you went out with, of course. No one knows who can be a possible criminal, right?  (Comments & asks are appreciated!)

------------------------------------------------------------------------------ TAG LIST @shigbby @honeeybeezzz @herefornanami-s-cake @pendalikespasta @lucylou302 @yxllowtxpe @sunbathed-sweetgrass @sarah-ardini @teenagegever2k22 @lastwordsofadyingstar @lavenderskye29 @karrotsforyou @inlovewithcodmen @onegami @keithehe @lilahbunny @ameneminimo @beepyboopbop @ms-munchkin @dinonacho @undeadgod

[zoropookie]

HOW HATERS ARE BORN (HHAB)

♡ chapter seven — omfg 💋

It was like the entire convention had their eyes on you. And who knew it’d be at the very same booth that you said you wouldn’t go near.

You sat there with an irate expression on your face, coming up with words for the man in front of you that you didn’t think you could muster until now. An aroma of roasted beans clung to your shirt like an unwanted companion.

You were motioned not to say anything else. You were being put on the spot, and you didn’t need to say anything else to him. And in hopes that you smart, you would just apologize like a normal person and move on.

But you weren’t a normal person, and by the looks of the entire crowd around the two of you, Scaramouche wasn’t either.

“This is what you get off on?” You asked him in a low hiss. “I bet. Your streams are full of it.”

“I get off on things worth my time.” Scaramouche bit back a snarl and yet somehow he still made you flinch by how close he was. “Who even are you? You did an entire bit on the internet so my fans would like you more, but nobody's here to see you. You thought showing up would give you a better impression? All I see is a bitch and their whore friends parading around like children.”

“You talk a lot of shit for someone who doesn’t consider me important. Don't talk about my friends like that.”

“Aw, you want to be seen as important? To me?” Scaramouche said in disbelief, to the point where he made himself smile, newer to his usual scowl. "You faded into irrelevancy once you did your little callout. How did that go for you, by the way? Still losing sponsorship?”

“I’m important enough to get under your skin about it, huh?” You replied, a little too snippy that you inwardly cringed. But you couldn't stop. "You're one to talk about drama dying after two days all the time, just get over it."

His violet coded eyes stared down at you, expressionless, a face that you couldn’t read too well. There was a distinct way that his hands balled and unraveled, the creases on the corners of his mouth twitching. He was furious, and you reveled in it.

But as you proudly gave a testing smirk at him, he grabbed the rest of the coffee that you attempted to save and took the lid off, turning it to pour all over you. Your mouth dropped open, feeling more of the warm liquid trickle down the fabric of your clothes and your face. He threw the cup with a simple, hostile, aggressive shoot of his hand towards the crowd.

"People like you keep buzzing in my ear until you get what you want. You waste your breath on useless shit, pick at your ass, and expect to be coddled.” Scaramouche scoffed, his eyebrows furrowing in disgust. "In front of so many people, you had to make an ass out of yourself just to get attention. I can do it by walking out of my room, we are not the same in that calibre. Don't act like you are, creepy fuck. I shouldn't have even gave you the time of day on that tweet."

You felt like his tone of speech was rather familiar, but while you were listening, you couldn’t quite put your finger on it. You also couldn’t stop the constant ringing in your ears, and it only got worse at his consistent berating.

“Get your shit, and get the fuck out of here.”

previous ♡ masterlist ♡ next

YOU ARE on your way to being one of the hottest streamer in your nation at the moment, racking a monthly average of 10 million viewers, but something specific bothers you about it. you know that a lot of people hate you, but there's this one account. one account that's been following you since the early days of your career. they leave a flood of rude comments in your stream, your moderators banned each account they made, but they keep making more. you are at the end of your tether. but you are yet to find out that this persistent cockroach is none other than your friend's friend (and the only other streamer that's bigger than you), scaramouche.

taglist ♡ @thystarsshine @veekoko @gumickajolli @simonisferal @kamiboo @justpeachyteastea @feiherp @pinkismyfavcolor @aether-darling @melpomenelurks @keiiqq @mine-lu @featuredtofu @danhenglovebot @k4zushi @kyon-cherri @1lellykins @iiinaurate @quacking-simp @auroratumbles (bold users means i'm having trouble tagging you)

[cozage]

OMG HIII I LOVE YOUR WRITINGGG this is gonna be my first request ever (literally having a nervous breakdown) but I wanted to request a fem reader who is the bio daughter of whitebeard and comes back after 2 years of shinobi training to meet the new crew member Fire fist ace! and can you pls make it a short fic (I cannot fathom the words of how obsessed I am with this man IFDFJDKDGJK) (also can she have a DF that's associated with lava? pls and thank you *literally bowing*)

A/N: God this was so adorable to write. I'm so obsessed with this fun little story. Literally once I started writing I couldn't stop. thank u 

Characters: female reader, Ace, Marco, Whitebeard & Crew

Cw: alcohol, drunk reader

Total word count: 2.3k

Part 2 | Table of Contents | Read on A03

The Daughter’s Return Chapter 1: The Promised Position

The vivre card in your hand continued to move forward, but you could see the familiar outline of the Moby Dick ahead of you, and you grinned at the sight of being so close to your family again. You had been training for two years, and you couldn’t wait to catch up with your friends and your father after being apart for so long.

Your small boat looked even tinier as the giant ship loomed closer to you, but you weren’t concerned. Blue flames shot into the sky from the blue ship, and you sent out a stream of lava into the air in return. It was your code to the first division commander and friend, proof that you were who they were expecting. 

You saw a creature with blue flamed wings shoot into the sky, and you gathered up your things. You only had a small backpack and a few bags of food, so there wasn’t much to pack up. You said goodbye to your small raft, thanking it for its usefulness during your journey.

Marco landed on your boat, and you squealed in delight seeing your brother again. He wrapped you up in a hug and spun you around, laughing gleefully at your return. 

“Pops is going to be thrilled to see you,” he said, sitting you down. He ruffled your hair affectionately, smiling at you. “Missed you, kid.”

“Missed you too, Marco,” you said, grinning at him. You picked up a bag, handing it off to him to carry back to the ship. 

“You’ve grown!” he commented. “I can’t look down at you anymore.”

You gave him a cheeky grin. “I’m stronger too.” 

“You better be!” He laughed. “Pops didn’t smuggle you into Wano for you to come back the same!”

“Maybe he’ll finally make me commander now.” You stared up at the ship, thinking of the goal you’d been working towards since the beginning of your training. 

“About that…” Marco trailed off, and you shot him a suspicious look. 

“What?”

He sighed, deciding to prepare you. “Pop’s filled the second division commander seat, actually.”

“What?” you hissed. “You’re joking.”

“I’m not.”

“With who?” you demanded. You refused to believe him. “I thought nobody wanted it.”

“It’s a new guy.”

“A new guy?” you scoffed. “You’re pulling my leg, Marco. It’s not funny.”

Marco looked nervous talking about it. “Let’s go see Pops, alright? He’ll explain.” 

You scowled, and your stomach clenched in anticipation. “Yeah, let’s go. I have some words to say to him.”

Marco wrapped his arms around your torso and extended his phoenix wings. “I’m glad to see you’re still a hothead.” You could hear the teasing in your voice, but you weren’t in the mood for jokes anymore. 

“Shinobi training can’t fix everything,” you grumbled. You could feel your skin getting warm, a sign you were letting your emotions get to you. 

You heard a lot of low whispers and mumbling, but you paid the new recruits no mind as you stormed across Moby Dick. Your father wasn’t on the deck, so you continued on to the command room. 

“DAD!” you screamed, and you could see some of the newer members slink away from you in fear. A part of you felt some pride to have such an impact, but you were too pissed to revel in it.

You slammed the command room door open to find your father speaking with another man you didn’t recognize, but you paid the guest no mind. You were too focused on settling the score of the second division commander seat.

Whitebeard smiled at you. “Y/N! You’re-”

“You bastard!” you shrieked. You pulled out a kunai, pointing it at your old man. “You promised!”

The unknown man threw a knife and knocked the kunai out of your hand, and you turned to glare at him. He was shirtless and was wearing an obnoxious orange hat, and he was returning your gaze with a look of equal irritation. 

“Stay out of this, newbie,” you hissed at the man. 

You reached into your pouch to grab another kunai, but he lunged at you, grabbing your wrist to stop you.

“I don’t know who you are,” the man said in a low, dangerous voice. “But you have no right attacking Pops the moment you get on our ship.”

“Stay out of my affairs,” you snarled. 

You turned your wrist to lava rocks to burn his hand, but at first the man didn’t react. You frowned, turning up the heat to liquidize your arm into magma, and finally the man pulled away in pain. He looked down at his hand in shock, as if he wasn’t expecting to be burned. You couldn’t blame him. It’s not everyday someone’s skin turns into boiling liquid. 

Whitebeard laughed loud and hearty, breaking the tension between you and the man, and you refocused your anger back to your father. 

“Never a dull moment with you around, kid! It’s great to have you back,” he laughed, and your face flushed with anger. 

“You promised me a commander position when I got back,” you yelled at him. “Who the hell did you give it to instead?”

Whitebeard laughed even harder. “That would be Ace.”

“Who the hell is Ace?” you hissed. 

The shirtless man raised his hand. “Uh-”

“I said stay out of my affairs!” You could feel steam coming off your head. Sometimes that happened when you got too angry.

The man pointed at himself. “Me. I’m Ace.”

You could feel your insides turning hot, lava coursing through your veins. 

“You’re joking,” you said. You glanced at your father, who was still smirking at the two of you. “He’s joking, right?”

You father raised his eyebrows, his gaze darting between the two of you, but he said nothing.

“Portgas D. Ace,” the man said, holding out a hand to you. You rolled your eyes and turned away from him, facing your father. 

“This guy?'' Your voice was full of skepticism. 

“Hey!” Ace yelled from behind you. “Don’t underestimate me!”

“I could squash you like a bug,” you shot back, still refusing to look at him. “Dad-”

“The decision was made with good reason, my girl,” Whitebeard said. “You’ll be working alongside him closely in the second division.”

“No, I won’t,” you laughed, rolling your eyes at his suggestion. 

“Yes, you will.” You could hear the seriousness in your father’s voice, the warning of consequences thick in his tone. 

You decided it was best to not outright defy him, and you switched your tactic from stubborness to logic.

“I’ve always been under Marco,” you reasoned.

“You’ll be better suited in the second division now.” You could feel Ace smirking behind you, and you resisted the urge to turn around and punch his teeth out. 

“Let me get this straight,” you said, trying to keep a level voice. “You give my commander position away and then tell me I have to work under the guy who took it from me?”

Ace laughed. “The second division position has been open for-”

You flicked a volcanic rock back at him, and he yelped in pain. 

“Marco is a fire user like me,” you worked to plead your case further. “And I know him. I would work better under him.”

“The first division is a medical division now,” your father explained. You could see you were testing his patience, but you didn’t care. “Your talents are better served on the offensive front, which Ace leads.”

“But-”

“Plus,” your father added, cutting you off. “Ace is a fire user as well.”

You felt warmth spring up behind you, but you refused to give Ace the satisfaction of being acknowledged.

“Dad-”

“I’m not wavering on this decision,” he said with finality. 

You felt your father’s conqueror’s haki spread out over the ship, and you knew that you had lost the argument. You could hear Ace stumble slightly behind you, and you resisted the urge to argue even further over the man’s weakness. At this point it would only make your father angry, even if you were right. 

“Fine, fine,” you sighed, giving up. There’d be plenty of time to talk with him about the position and prove your worth. “Can we at least have a party?”

Whitebeard’s overwhelming presence disappeared and his jolly laugh returned in an instant, already forgetting your alls squabble. He stood up, wrapping you in a comforting embrace, leading you past Ace and out onto the deck. 

“My daughter has returned home!” he shouted, and the crew cheered. “Prepare a feast!”

--

At least the party life on the Moby Dick hadn’t changed at all. You could still beat just about anyone in a drinking contest, and by halfway through the night, your mind was cloudy from the alcohol. 

You took a step away from the party and the fun to get a moment alone with the stars. You took a drink of the ale in your tankard, staring up at the million lights in the sky and thinking about how different the constellations looked during your time in Wano. You were so close to that country and those people, yet so far. 

“I think we got off on the wrong foot,” a male voice said behind you, startling you from your thoughts. 

You glanced back to find Portgas D. Ace walking towards you, looking up at the night sky. He was attempting to be casual about the whole thing, as if he had randomly found you here, but you could tell that he had most likely searched you out on purpose.

You rolled your eyes and turned away from him. He wasn’t even worth giving the time of day. He hadn’t done anything to prove he was anything special yet.

But Ace obviously wasn’t willing to give up that easily, because he came and stood directly next to you. His eyes were still on the sky, just like yours were. 

“I just feel like since we’re going to be working together, we should probably get to know each other a little better,” he said. 

You thought of plenty of snarky responses, but said none of them. You knew the silent treatment would be the best way to shut him down. Portgas D. Ace was not your friend. You wanted nothing to do with him. 

“Are you happy to be back on the ship?”

Still nothing came out of your mouth. You didn’t even look his way, you simply took another long drink. But you could see him starting to pout. It was only a matter of time before he gave up and returned to the party. You just had to keep your mouth shut. 

“All the guys said you had a pretty smoking ability. But I dunno, I think my fire ability is pretty hot.”

You scoff at that. “I’m hotter,” you shot back. 

Damn him. He could rile you up, and he knew exactly how to. You could see him smirk in the corner of your eye, and you cursed yourself for being so easy to manipulate. 

“That’s what they all said too,” he said quietly, a smile still lingering on his face. 

You turned to look at him, your face full of frustration. “What do you want?” 

He seemed surprised by your question. “What do you mean?”

“Why are you speaking to me?” you demanded. “What do you want?”

“Wh-No-I just-” Ace stammered, trying to find his words. 

You stared at him, your scowl deepening every time he started his sentence over. 

“You’re Whitebeard’s daughter, aren’t you?” he finally asked. 

“Yeah. And?”

“I’ve just heard a lot about you,” he said. 

“And?”

“I dunno,” he said. “You intrigued me.”

You scowled at him. “What the hell does that mean?”

“I dunno!” He let out an exasperated sigh, turning his gaze to the stars. “You were just this larger than life story people always told since I got on this ship. Everyone always had something to say about you. I guess I just wanted to know how much of it was true.”

“All of it is true,” you said.

Ace let out a laugh, and then clamped his hand over his mouth to stop himself. “I really hope not.”

Your eye twitched, and you could feel your skin starting to tingle. “If people are lying about me, they’ll pay for it.”

“Marco talked about you like you were this sweet little kid.”

“Marco’s delusional.”

Ace laughed again, and this time he didn’t stop himself. You found yourself smiling along with him. 

“He definitely sees the best in people,” Ace said.

You shot him a look. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

You could see Ace tense. “Oh, nothing! I-”

You let out joyous rings of laughter now, and you see Ace give a strained smile, mostly unsure of how to react to your sudden friendliness. 

“You’re funny, Portgas D. Ace.” You go to take another sip of alcohol, just to find your cup empty. You frowned at it, and turned to go find more booze. 

“I’ll get it,” Ace offered, holding out his hand to take your cup. “I’m empty too.”

You nod, handing it off to him. The party was so loud anyway. You preferred the quiet atmosphere this late in the night. He strode away, and you watched him go, your father’s emblem displayed proudly on his back. He still wasn’t anything special, but at least he wasn’t scared of you like half of the crew. 

You hadn’t realized how much alcohol you had drank throughout the night until you were alone, and suddenly the world was spinning. You laid down on the deck to get your bearings, and then found yourself stuck there. 

When Ace came back, he found you sprawled out, staring upwards. 

“You okay?” he asked. He bent down to look at you, his face obscuring part of the sky. 

You giggled. “Your freckles look like stars.”

“You’re drunk.”

“No you’re drunk.”

He chuckled. “Your insults get worse as the night goes on.”

You stuck your tongue out at him, and then patted the deck next to you. “Come lay down.”

He obliged, his head resting next to yours. “What are we looking for?” he questioned. 

“Shhhh!” you hissed, pressing a finger to his mouth. “You’ll scare them away.”

You felt his lips turn upward against your finger, but he was quieter when he spoke. 

“What are we looking for?” he whispered. 

“Shooting stars!” you whispered back. 

“Oh,” Ace whispered. “Of course.”

“Tell me when you find one,” you said quietly. “I’m going to rest my eyes for a minute.”

You’re not sure if he ever found one. You were asleep before he responded.

[littlejuicebox]

Shoutout Sunday

Here I am again with another recommendation list! This one is a bit different from the last, in that these recs are all fics written in third person rather than second person POV. Listed in no particular order. I wanted to include some smaller writers and newer pieces that may have not gained much traction yet!

I know I write a lot of second person POV, and I also enjoy reading this POV. BUT, I do want to encourage people to consider reading both first and third person work as well. 

Some of these pieces are THE most compelling things I’ve ever read. Especially when someone’s OC is involved. Creators put A LOT of love into their OC work. If you like a creator’s second person stuff, I strongly encourage you to read their things written in other POVS… there’s a high chance it’s even better than their second person work, tbh.

All recommendations are below the cut. Happy Reading!

Thrice Before Dawn by @cursedhaglette- This is a smut piece set in Act 1. I promise you all that I thought about this fic for days after I read it. Physically made me blush. Top tier banter and the ending is chef’s kiss. It’s sort of a One Shot but I believe it’s also an ongoing collection/series. 

Starlit Skirts by @wilteddreamsofbaldursgate - This One Shot is the fluffiest fluff to ever fluff. This piece made me tear up. Every piece of Emi’s is divine. Astarion is working on creating Tav’s wedding dress and has been for months. The issue is, it’s requiring constant altering.

Blood in the Mortar by @bardic-inspo (tumblr) / bardic_inspo (AO3) - An AA One Shot that is beautifully written and exceptionally compelling, based on the concept of AA’s love interest being a vampire bride. Her OC Naomi is fantastic! OP hasn’t written smut in over a year and yet she does well, as if it’s her day job. 

Memories of Us by @tallymonster - I maintain this is the only AU longfic I currently read and I adore it. There are a few chapters I am dying to catch up on. This version of Astarion is so interesting, I really like how she works with the concept of a vampire outliving all of his prior friends/contacts. 

Slow Dancing in a Burning Room by @tragedybunny - Bunny is an OG, I’m certain most of you are familiar with her One Shots. She has a huge Masterlist, and surely you can throw a dart and any title it hits will be a win. But this AA series is a new longfic work of hers and I cannot wait to see where she takes it. 

Loose the Arrow by pentuppen (AO3 only, unsure if the tumblr blog is the same person?) - This is the first BG3/Ascended Astarion longfic ever read and I was hooked. It inspired me to start writing myself! This storyline is compelling and the perfect blend of angst/comfort/smut.  I’m not going to give away the plot, but the author’s summary itself is intriguing. Here’s a bit: “One night every year. She is always there waiting and he will always come.”

[gunkbaby]

Tokyo Ghoul re-read:

Hello everypony. i have thrown around the idea of a Tokyo Ghoul re-read event of late, and a lot of people seem interested. I have come to some ideas for it, and wanted to inform everyone as I begin to sort it. If u have any ideas for the re-read, or might be interested in being a mod, pls dm me !

Im thinking basic idea of the re-read is kind of like a book club - a set chapter number per week, then the rest of the week is discussion. The chapter number i was setting was going to be about 1 volume per week - with adjusted numbers for slower and faster readers. (For example, know I can easily do a few day, but i read manga fast, but other people might only have time for 10 chapters a week, etc)

Also want to state the re-read would be open for literally everyone! Bc lots of ppl have expressed interest, but are already deep into personal re-reads - however you can absolutely still participate in the re-read and discussion (especially) if you are reading at a later point in the manga!!!!! i also know a few ppl who haven’t read TG before/anime onlys, who might like to join in too, and that’s absolutely fine too! There would be a spoiler free chat(s) too for newer readers specifically for this - and ppl can invite whoever they want to the read as well.

Pls give any suggestions or ideas! I’d luv to hear them.

The boring bits (where the read is held, estimate of when, etc) r all under here:

I’m thinking to do it on Discord, with weekly discussion threads/posts on twitter and tumblr - i believe you can create communities and public groups on both apps, so I would aim to make them also, if enough ppl were interested. There’s also the option for Instagram group chats - a WhatsApp group? Idk - if u have any suggestions, pls lmk. I don’t rly do group chats often.

As for when the re-read will start - i don’t yet know. I’m going back to school next month, as many are, and I’m just a busy little bee with a lot of interests and hobbies, so i would like to get into my routine first and ensure that i have time to dedicate to the re-read - or to gage how much help i might need with it. I think I might aim to start it in October personally - ideally on the first, but ik a lot of people do things during October (I’m literally considering writing for kinktober lmao) so it might be that later than that is a bit better - maybe trying to time it to start with a sort of school break time period. Maybe by the end of September I’ll be like ‘oh this is way easy, i have so much time for it’, but im adhd and bad at time planning, so i doubt it lmao.

I’m sorry if that’s too long a wait - y’all can start re-reads in the meantime idgaf. I just don’t want to start the re-read and realise two weeks in that i literally don’t have time. Lmao.

I also would ideally want a few mods/helpers on hand with the read. If only to help take care of the discord/chats, host separate discussions, etc - please lmk if you are interested. In particular, people with voice chat mod experience - i have no experience there so am desperate.

Pls lmk if u r interested in any of this - am i just talking to a wall? Idk! Tell meeee! Any suggestions or ideas r also greatly appreciated. I am hosting my own little re-read here but obviously this idea is not unique, I’m trying to see if enough people are interested in a group re-read with added discussion. It’s just some fun ofc.

[randomfoggytiger]

I started watching X-Files a couple of months ago and finally finished the whole show, plus the movies and revival. Jesus. I started looking at fanfic but am totally intimidated by HOW MUCH OF IT there is. Like. 30 years worth of it? Where do I even start? Do I read old stuff or new stuff? Are there any authors that have been writing since the 90’s? Who’s stuff should I be reading? What should I be reading? There are so many different kinds! (Okay, but not fluff, because The Ick.) (and only the shippy stuff because I am not a monster.) Where does one even start in this fandom?

Thanks for coming here, Anon-- I'll do my best~. ;)))

TLDR: If you want to read the classics-- the multi-chapter beasts hailed across The X-Files fandom-- I'd go to @lilydalexf's page and sort through her pinned Masterpost of recs; if you want my personal favorites, I've got my own complied Masterlist pinned, as well. If you want author suggestions, I listed a few below (but not all-- even of my personal favorites.) Older fics have a more "walled-off" approach to Scully and an edgier, distant approach to Mulder; newer fics have a more open approach to their exchange and dynamic. I prefer the latter, but that's likely because I was able to watch the show as a whole rather than episode by episode with a lot of guesswork in-between.

It's hard to pinpoint where to recommend you since I don't know your preferences; but here's a very loose attempt to do so:

I'm more of a short fic reader, but I'd recommend @melforbes, @slippinmickeys, @cecilysass, and @wexleresque for long chapters; @teethnbone, @leiascully, @aloysiavirgata, @enigmaticdrblockhead, @dreamingofscully, and @sarie-fairy for "atmospheric" writing; @baronessblixen, @welsharcher, @agent-troi, @television-overload, @invidiosa, @swinging-stars-from-satellites, @thescullyphile, @msrafterdark, and @edierone for well-balanced fluff/angst/humor/comfort fic/etc.; @o6666666, @ghostbustermelanieking, @mappingthexfiles/Apostrophic, and Lapsed_Scholar for their wonderful shorts (but especially Lapsed's Requiem AU compilations); @settle-down-frohike, @suitablyaggrieved, @amplifyme, @wtfmulder, @freckleslikestars, @lyndsaybones, @numinousmysteries, and Jenna Tooms/misslucyjane for their focus on Mulder and Scully as a "mature"-- for lack of a better word-- couple (no matter when their fics are set); @xxsksxxx and @writingwell write long-chaptered casefiles (my writingwell fic recs here might help?-- sorry for the codes, I was rushing out those notes); and if you want the authors everyone recommends, then @mashnotesofthemythopoeic/Penumbra (Masterlist) and prufrock’s love/plenilune (@lilydalexf links/descriptions here) are two of the many that fit the bill.

Other fic recs you might be interested in: @cecilysass's write more of these and Milagro recs, @enigmaticxbee mytharc and Scully family recs, @pennyserenade's reading recs, @two-microscopes shorter fic rec list, @nachosncheezies's slightly psychic Scully recs (describes three of the big x-files fics), etc. You want beautifully short poeticesque ficlets written and recced by @leiascully? Boom. You want Deadalive fic reccs? Kachow. You want opinions from the OGs? The aforementioned aloysiavirgata, amplifyme, baronessblixen, leiascully, suitablyaggrieved, cecilysass, settle-down-frohike, dreamingofscully, msrafterdark, as well as @iconicscullyoutfits and @myassbrokethefall (who write amazing meta, btw.)

Are you interested in AUs that write in Gillian Anderson's pregnancy? That have a storyline sans baby all together? That stick to canon all the way through the Revival? That stick to canon mostly, except for a bit of branching off here and there? Multiple Monday fics? Post Pine Bluff Variant processing? Mulder or Scully PTSD or panic attacks or hurt comfort? The many different flavors of Mulder's abduction or return? Casefiles (admittedly I stink at those)? My own fics (also in my pinned masterpost)? An author whose style you're interested in but would like a description of their work before making a long-term commitment? Lemme know~! :DDDD

Gotta run! Hope you like! (And sorry for any spelling errors~.)

[anim-ttrpgs]

Wait does Eureka have its own established lore for how different supernatural creatures work?

Yes, it does!

(I’m going to preface this post by saying that just about everything I’m talking about here, and more, is available FOR FREE for you to read in the free pre-release version of the Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy rulebook that you can download from our website. Go to Chapter 8 to start reading about the supernatural lore. The rulebook itself will do a lot better job of explaining all this than I will, because it has the exact details of how each one works, and I’m just hitting the highlights and going over what those details mean.)

Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy is a game about very human and believable investigators digging into dangerous (often supernatural) mysteries way over their heads, and sometimes those very human and believable investigators will be supernatural creatures themselves.

These supernatural creatures are every bit as human and “normal” as their mundane investigators counterparts, they have jobs, friends, families, hobbies, etc. They live among mundane society, not outside of it.

Most modern fantasy settings have some kind of separation between normal society and magical society, like you see in Harry Potter where there is normal society, and then a separate, secret magical society hidden away from it, or Vampire: The Masquerade, where vampires all have an agreement to keep themselves a secret from normal society despite acting within it.

In Eureka’s world, there is no “masquerade,” but that doesn’t mean that magic and monsters are well-known and well-documented phenomenons. Supernatural creatures such as vampires, wolfmen, etc. are exceptionally rare. Don’t take this as an exact number, but you can probably assume there’s about one of these per every 3.3 million normal people.

This rarity, as well as the fact that each individual has little to gain and everything to lose by revealing themselves (try “coming out” as a person who regularly assaults people and drains their blood), has led to them going largely undocumented in the modern day. Sure, this is the digital age, there are videos, but viral videos are not exactly scientific evidence. For every real vampire caught on camera, there are a thousand hoaxes and horror short films.

There is no secret vampire government controlling things from the shadows—most vampires don’t even know any other vampires, let alone enough to form a secret society with any effect on national politics.

As for how they work, well, that’s one of my favorite parts to talk about.

There are five playable monster types in Eureka (The Vampire, The Wolfman, The Fairy, The Witch, and The Thing From Beyond) plus two extras that are Kickstarter stretch goals (The Dullahan and The Gorgon), but in the interest of time, I’m only going to really go into detail with one of them.

Most playable monster types in Eureka are very, very old-school, with an emphasis on actual historical folklore over just making up all our own lore. That doesn’t mean Eureka doesn’t have a unique approach to the supernatural, though. Little of it is “new,” but it is certainly unique, because to my knowledge no other RPG has ever taken the old stuff this far before. A PC being a monster in Eureka isn’t just a few +1s here and there and maybe a little extra damage from silver weapons, it means playing by an entirely different set of rules from fellow investigators.

The vampires and vampire lore you see in movies are not folkloric vampires, they are mostly a 20th and 21st century pop-culture creation. Eureka’s vampire abilities, weaknesses, and other traits are based on pre-1900 vampire legends, with older traits usually taking precedent over newer ones. Thus, a lot of assumptions you might have about vampires going in could end up being very wrong. For instance, in movies, vampires instantly die when exposed to sunlight, but the first ever instance of a vampire in a story being killed by sunlight was in the 1922 film Nosferatu. In Eureka, sunlight is still awful for vampires, it strips them of their vampiric powers, but it doesn’t do any real damage to them. Sunlight is an issue vampires have to deal with, but it is far from instant death. That doesn’t mean being a vampire is inherently easy though, because in addition to having all the powers that folkloric vampires have (which is a TON), they also have all the weaknesses, and it is the emphasis on weaknesses that really makes the moment-to-moment playing of a monster PC in Eureka the most interesting. A few of my favorites for vampires are the refusal to enter homes without a direct invitation, and the compulsion to count large numbers of small objects. I think most vampire media these days considers these to be “silly” weaknesses and don’t want to acknowledge them in the lore of their “serious” scary horror vampires, but honestly I think that the “sillier” vampire stuff can still be used to great effect in horror. Imagine knowing that the only reason a vicious killer at your door hasn’t stormed in to rip your throat out is because they’re being polite.

A vampiric investigator will need to work around these weaknesses, and more, in their daily life, all while being sure not to reveal their true nature to their more mortal friends. It’s something that really changes how a character behaves and goes about problem-solving.

For instance, the rest of the party may be able to break into a house no-problem, but the vampire cannot. They need a invitation. That’s a problem. That’s a puzzle. It makes me excited just thinking about it.

This was originally going to be a much longer post where I went into more of the themes of monsters in Eureka, but I have decided that that would be most cohesive as its own post, an upcoming essay titled "How Eureka Handles Disability." So stay tuned for that.

Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy is kickstarting from right now until May 10th! Back it while you still can!

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Join our TTRPG Book Club At the time of writng this, Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy is the current game being played in the book club, and anyone who wants to participate in discussion, but can’t afford to make a contribution, will be given the most updated prerelease version for free! Plus it’s just a great place to discuss and play new TTRPGs you might not be able to otherwise!

We hope to see you there, and that you will help our dreams come true and launch our careers as indie TTRPG developers with a bang by getting us to our base goal and blowing those stretch goals out of the water, and fight back against WotC's monopoly on the entire hobby. Wish us luck.

[oftenwantedafton]

Personal Space - Steve Raglan/William Afton x Female Reader

Chapter 2

Rating - Explicit

Warnings - none for this chapter

Also available on AO3

Tuesday morning.

Steve decides to try to show you around the computer programs that are used the most frequently. He appreciates technology; how could he not, given his engineering background? But he’s a creature of habit. He likes the old tech that’s familiar, comfortable. It’s the reason he hasn’t let them switch out his computer or phone for something newer. The electronic typewriter on the table behind his desk still sees a lot of use. He likes the old adage “If it’s not broken, don’t fix it.” Nothing wrong with innovation. He admires that. But. When it comes to this job. Well, he just prefers the tried and true methods.

He’s still not an expert on the new scheduling program. He doesn’t use it much. But he figures he might as well try to show you. Every time he moves the mouse to click on something he finds himself on the wrong screen. Confusing the menus. He’s getting frustrated already.

“Here, let me try.”

“No, I think I’ve got it…no, that’s not it.”

“Can I just…” You lean over without waiting for a response. Your fingers close over his to guide the mouse.

Raglan inhales sharply. This close, he can smell your fragrance. Something fruity like raspberries, maybe. Your hair is tidy today now that the skies are finally emptied of water. You’re wearing a black pantsuit that fits better than the outfit you’d worn the previous day. The skin on your fingertips is soft. Your eyes are focused on the screen. He should just remove his hand and let you take over. But he’s frozen, immobile. He can’t remember the last time someone’s touched him beyond the courtesy of a handshake.

“There it is. You were close. It’s just a little convoluted…” Your voice trails off as you release his hand, leaning back. Staring. Something’s happening. You hadn’t quite moved back to your original position. Still close. Heat wafting. That sweet scent.

Steve’s mouth goes dry. He struggles to work moisture into it. “Well, good, I guess we don’t need to waste any more time on that, then. I’m going to go make coffee.” Pushing the swivel leather chair away. At last some clearer air. He fusses at the coffee bar. A little clumsy. Nearly drops the pot on the way to the sink. You’ve unnerved him. Not an easy thing to do. He doesn’t like it. He makes sure his seat is further from yours when he settles again. Grabs some binders from the nearby shelf and dumps them on the desk blotter. Something to distract you until the next client arrives.

The untouched coffee seated on the coaster goes cold.

***

Wednesday afternoon. Another workday behind him.

You’re parked closer to his car today. You’d taken his advice and gotten to work earlier.

Steve halts near the rear bumper of yours. He notices an outline of Hello Kitty affixed to the left corner. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” He turns to leave but your voice halts him.

“Are you doing anything? When you get home, I mean.”

“Nothing in particular. Why?”

“Want to go get coffee first?”

He frowns. “You don’t drink coffee.”

“Well, I’ll get something else then. Know where to get a decent milkshake?”

“I do, actually.” He’s still hesitating. “We just spent eight hours together. You really want to spend another hour?”

“I don’t know anyone else,” you remind him.

So that was the motivating reason behind it. You were lonely. Homesick already. It was certainly beyond any obligation of his. He was only responsible for you at work. Outside of that was your own affair. But a milkshake actually sounded great. He surrenders. “Alright, let’s go.”

“We can take my car.”

Raglan has a difficult time settling into the passenger seat of the compact. His knees press uncomfortably close to the dashboard.

“The lever to move it back is underneath the seat, in the front…yeah, you got it. I guess that’s as far back as it goes,” you murmur apologetically. The seat only moves a few scant inches. The older man is still quite crammed in. “Um, where are we going?”

“Take a right out of here and head to the second set of lights. I’ll tell you the rest when you get to that point.” He reaches for the shoulder strap of the lap restraint and notices there’s a Hello Kitty cushion velcroed over it.

“Is your masculinity threatened yet?” You glance over at him as you reverse the car out of the parking spot.

“Hardly,” he responds drily.

“How come you know who Hello Kitty is, anyway?”

“My daughter.”

“How old is she?

“Around your age.”

“Do you have other children?”

“Yes.”

“How old are they? Are they home with your wife or…”

“No. I live alone.”

“Oh.” You exit the parking lot. There’s a fair amount of traffic this time of the afternoon. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.”

“It’s fine.” It’s not, actually. But you couldn’t possibly know the reason why. So he’ll accept your apology in good faith.

“So where are we going, anyway?”

“A diner.”

“Do you go there a lot?”

“Everyone does. It’s something of a local attraction. That’s it there on your left.”

Steve sighs in relief when he’s able to extricate himself from your cramped vehicle. There are a lot of cars in the parking lot. Probably better off getting something to go. Which meant getting back into the sardine can again right after. Great.

“It’s so cute!”

Raglan grunts, watching you take in the chrome trim, red vinyl seating and checkerboard patterned flooring. Classic 50s styling.

As he’d predicted, there’s a line for seating. “We’ll get drinks to go, okay? Otherwise we’ll be waiting forever.” You nod. “Flavors are up there on the right.” He points to a row of signs with red printing. You protest when he pulls out his wallet after you order and he waves the argument away. “I’ve got it. You can treat me next time.” You look a little too pleased with the promise that there will be a next time and he inwardly curses. He has to be more careful with his wording.

He doesn’t even know why he’s going through this charade at all. He should have just declined and gone home.

Steve jams himself back into the passenger seat and takes a sip of his shake, the burst of sweetness on his tongue mollifying him a bit. Well, he guesses it was maybe worth it. Maybe.

“So since I told you about my family, why don’t you tell me about yours. Siblings?”

“None. Oh, that is good. I get why this place is so popular.” You take another long swallow. “It’s just me and my parents.”

Well, that conversation dead ended quickly. He tries to adjust his knees. He knows he’s going to have bruises before this evening is over.

“Let me ask you something. How do you think I’m doing so far? Be honest.”

He looks at you. “You’re performing adequately.”

“Adequately,” you repeat. “That’s it?”

“You’ve barely just begun. What did you expect?”

“I don’t know. Just not ‘adequately’. What can I do to improve?”

Raglans frowns. “Your handshake is too weak, for one thing.”

“So show me the right way to do it.” You settle your cup into the center console’s holder and the older man mirrors your movements.

He hesitates a moment longer, then reaches out to take your hand. As expected your grip is very tentative. Also cool from the chilled drink. “Harder. Be confident. It will automatically help you when you begin the conversation.”

He feels your fingers tighten, exerting more pressure. Then your hand drops and his goes with it. Still clutching each other, resting on the padded surface between you. Yours so small and soft in his. He withdraws his hand abruptly, jerking free with perhaps a bit more force than necessary, snatching his cup back up and taking a long pull from the straw. Instant brain freeze. He winces.

“How was that?”

“Better.” He busies himself with studying the other cars in the parking lot.

“What else do I need to do to improve?”

“We’ll discuss it at work. I’d like to go home now.”

“Um, okay.”

A silent ride back to the office parking lot. You pull in beside his car.

“Thanks for coming out with me.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Back in his own vehicle. So much roomier.

So much emptier, too.

***

Thursday. There’s a seminar being offered nearby. Steve isn’t really interested, but he thinks you might benefit from it so he agrees to attend with you. Taking one car because it just seems easier. He insists on being the one to drive this time.

“Wow, there’s a cassette player in here. How old is this car, anyway?” You ask, settling inside and drawing the seatbelt strap over your shoulder.

“Old. Like me.” He turns the key in the ignition. The rabbit’s foot swings gently on its chain.

“You’re not that old.”

“That old?”

You grin. He’s starting to like your smile. Soft and sweet and warm. Natural. Genuine.

Once you arrive in the conference center, he allows you to choose where you want to sit. You opt for the back row, occupying the two seats on the end. You’re handed a copy of the PowerPoint presentation. There are lines for taking notes to the right of each printed slide. Steve glances over to see what you’re writing. You’re not. You’re doodling. Drawing. A little cartoon rabbit. He fights the urge to smirk. “Stop that and pay attention,” he hisses. Another smile. There’s no way you’re unaware of how disarming that gesture is.

“It’s for you,” you whisper back, sliding the packet over to him. He hands you his own copy in exchange. Admires the little caricature that is nearly an exact replica of Spring Bonnie, the mascot from the picture on the restaurant coaster in his office. Jaunty bow. Rows of buttons. He stares at it until his vision blurs.

There’s a one hour break for lunch. Fast food has been acquired. Burgers, fries, soda. He chooses a spot at the end of the parking lot. You dip a French fry into sweet and sour sauce. Raglan scowls disapprovingly. “That’s a crime you’re committing right there.”

“No, it isn’t. It’s the salty sweet combo. It’s good. I bet you’ve never even tried it.”

“I don’t need to.”

“You should. It’s not fair to judge it unless you have.” You dip another sliver of fried potato into the plastic cup and hold it before his lips. The pale brown sauce drips down. He takes a reluctant bite. Your fingers brush his tongue in the process. It’s just as you’ve said. Salty. Sweet. You lick the stray dribbles from your fingers, watching his reaction. “It’s good, right?”

He won’t admit it. Just like he refuses to acknowledge he’d liked tasting your skin just then. He stares hard outside the windshield. Lets you babble and grunts noncommittal answers until it’s time to return inside.

Late afternoon. Steve pulls up outside your apartment building to drop you off.

“Thanks. It was fun.”

“It wasn’t supposed to be fun. It was supposed to be educational,” he mutters reprovingly.

“Come on, Steve. It was kind of fun, right?” Your head tips back into the cradle of the headrest, watching him.

“Kind of.” His voice is rough.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” You struggle with the seatbelt buckle.

“It gets stuck sometimes, here…” He leans over. His fingers collide with yours. The mechanism finally surrenders, releasing. The sound of nylon winding back into place. You make no move to leave. Whatever you were expecting clearly hasn’t happened. “See you tomorrow,” he says gruffly, his fingers wrapping around the steering wheel, dismissing you.

***

Steve had forgotten he’d given you his home phone number. Early on, in case you needed to contact him about something work related.

It surprises him when he hears your voice that Friday evening. He doesn’t get personal calls often. Doesn’t usually get calls period unless it’s from a solicitor. He leans forward, easing off of the cushion against his back on the living room couch. “Are you alright? What time is it?” He’s too embarrassed to admit he’d dozed off. He rubs at sleep bleared eyes, trying to focus his gaze on his wristwatch. Only ten.

“Were you asleep? Did I wake you?”

“No,” he lies. “Are you alright?” He repeats. He remembers you mentioning you were going out with some of the other employees after work for drinks. He’d politely declined the invite. He never goes out to socialize. “You didn’t drive home drunk, did you?”

“Yes. No.” A sigh. It’s loud in his ear. Your mouth is very close to the receiver. “I can’t sleep.”

He frowns, leaning back. “You seriously called me in the middle of the night to tell me you have insomnia?”

“It’s not the middle of the night,” you protest. “How early do you usually go to bed?”

“That doesn’t matter.”

“Are you mad? You sound upset. I hate it when you’re upset with me.”

“I’m not upset. Just confused. What do you expect me to do about it? Drink a glass of of warm milk.”

“That’s so gross!”

“Count sheep. Put some television on in the background, I don’t know what you want from me. Take a shower.”

“I just took a bath.”

“Oh.” An image of you swathed in bubbles shoved from his thoughts just as quickly as it appears. “Well how did it go tonight, anyway?”

“It was kind of boring, to be honest. They’re kind of boring.”

“They’re you’re coworkers. You should try to get along with some of them, at the very least. In case you ever need—”

“—I wish you had gone.”

His hand tightens on the receiver. “I don’t see what possible difference it would have made.”

“Because then someone I actually wanted to talk to would have been there.”

He doesn’t have a response for that. Doesn’t really comprehend any of what’s happening beyond you being inebriated and lonely. Again, not his problem.

“I think you should try to sleep now.”

“Okay, I guess. If that’s what you think I should do.”

“Yes, I do.”

“You’re sure you’re not mad?”

“Starting to be,” he mutters.

“Wait, Steve, really?” You suddenly sound sober.

“Forget it. Just get some rest. I’ll see you Monday.” He hangs up the phone, deciding on a shower before bed.

Comforter and top sheet flipped back and he’s tucked beneath both. Eyes snapping back open as soon as they’re closed. Staring up into the void. Sleep eluding his capture.

***

A new week of work begins.

You arrive looking well rested. If you’re at all embarrassed about the other evening’s phone call it doesn’t show. Maybe you’d even forgotten it. Well, he certainly wasn’t going to dwell on it.

“Can we eat outside today? It looks nice by the pond.” You let the blinds snap back into place and rejoin him behind the desk.

“You can have lunch wherever you want.”

“You’ll come with me, though, right? I don’t want to eat by myself.”

“Maybe.” He’s not committing himself to that. “You need to focus on the task at hand right now. The next client is coming in soon. You’re going to be leading the discussion.”

You nod, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “How do I look?”

“Nervous.”

You frown.

“Poised, articulate, confident. Those are the three qualities you need. Even if you’re not feeling them, you should exude them.”

You blink, looking surprised. “You want me to lie?”

“Sometimes lying is the correct choice. The only choice,” he adds.

“That’s…I don’t even know. Give me one example of when it’s better to lie.”

“Fine. Say a young child’s lost their parent in a violent death. Isn’t it kinder to say they went to sleep, they’re in heaven with loved ones, watching over them, whatever platitude people like to spout, as opposed to telling them they were murdered, hacked to pieces by some serial killer?”

“Geez, that’s really dark.”

He shrugs. “You wanted an example.”

You shake your head. “I still don’t think people should lie.”

Steve grunts. “Do as you like. I’m only trying to give you pointers to ensure your success.”

“Do you lie a lot?”

Oh, what a question. If you only knew. “Yes.”

“To me?”

“What would I lie to you about?”

You squirm in your seat. “I don’t know.”

“I wouldn’t worry about it.”

“But why? Why would you?”

He sighs. His fingers drum on the desk blotter. The conversation is becoming tedious. He wishes the applicant would hurry up and make an appearance. “For the same reason as the example I gave you. For your own good.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You’re not supposed to. Where the hell is this woman? Maybe I should have reception give her a call. See if she forgot, got tied up or…”

“Steve.”

The drumming fingers still. “What?”

“I don’t want you to lie to me. I’m not a child.”

“Then don’t act like one.”

“Is it because of my car?”

You’re trying to make light of the situation and it irritates him to no end. “It’s everything. Everything about you screams immature. Your appearance. Your demeanor. And yes, that ridiculous car. Getting drunk and calling me up.” He sees you wince but he barrels forward. “Even asking me for permission to eat outside. Take some initiative. Be an adult and make a decision on your own.”

The light, teasing tone evaporates. “I thought we were friends.” Your voice is faint, barely audible.

“Friends? We’re not friends. We’re coworkers. That’s it. I didn’t volunteer for this. You were foisted upon me. All because you had some preconceived notion that I was going to be some ideal instructor for you to follow. You shouldn’t even be here. You belong up north. Back with your parents. Whatever friends you had there. There’s nothing for you here.”

It’s like a floodgate has been opened. He knows he’s being unnecessarily cruel. It’s hardly the first time. So why does he feel so guilty for saying these things to you?

Your eyes are getting shiny. Making him feel even more uncomfortable. “Don’t even think about crying. I’m not dealing with th—” The phone rings, interrupting his next tirade. “Raglan. Great. Yeah, find a block to reschedule.” He hangs up, glancing at you. “She cancelled. We’re free until the afternoon now. After lunch.”

You nod, averting your gaze.

“I’m going outside.” He doesn’t wait for a response, grabbing his lunch tote and heading for the elevator. He punches the down arrow with more force than necessary. Stupid, feeling remorse. Over some new hire. Who was immature and overly sensitive. He was doing you a favor. The real world was not a kind place. You needed to toughen up. The training wheels had to come off sooner or later. Might as well be sooner.

The career counselor settles onto one of the shadier picnic tables. Doesn’t even bother unzipping the bag. He’s looking out at the water. A pair of mallards and a row of offspring following. Gentle quacks. Preening feathers. Beaks dipping for a drink.

You sit beside him. Drop a plastic shopping bag on the weathered wood. Make no move to open it, staring at the pond.

“I brought you a brownie.”

He blinks, looking over at you. Your gaze is still focused on the scenery. You sniffle. He thinks some of those tears made good on their threats and escaped after he’d left you in his office.

“Thank you,” he says stiffly.

You nod. “I’m not…I’m not really hungry.”

“Neither am I. I’m going to go for a walk.” He stands. Glances at your seated form. “You can come along, if you want.”

You rise from the bench. Still not making eye contact. The older man begins walking. The trees grow thicker the further away from the pond you travel, a dense stand that reaches back to the edge of the property. Conservation land that can’t be developed. Sunlight struggling to reach through the leaves. Dappled shadows. He likes it better here. Too fair skinned for all that light beaming down. Better in the cool green shade. The pond is no longer in sight. Even the office building is out of his field of view. In truth he’s never been back this far.

Steve halts abruptly and you stumble to stop beside him, nearly tripping over a tree root. What he means to do is simply break your fall. Curse you out for being clumsy. But his body has other intentions. The arm that was to be a barrier curling around you. Pulling you against him.

It’s not in him to say he’s sorry. He’s not one to apologize. He thinks it’s a sign of weakness. A degradation of character. Erosion of pride. He won’t allow it.

Your back rests against his chest. He hadn’t set a very brisk pace. More of a leisurely stroll. But now he finds it hard to breathe. The harsh rasp of it echoing loudly. His arm is still wrapped around you. Both of your hands curled over it. His lips pressed against your hair. Inhaling the scent buried there. Strawberry shampoo. He releases you gently. Doesn’t push you away, merely loosens his grip. Feels your hands hesitating over his dropping arm. Reluctant to let go. You turn to face him. His lips part as if to speak. What will he say now? What can he possibly say?

He says nothing. The coward’s way out. He turns back in the direction of the pond. You follow beside.

The trees keep this secret.