#i really like this au so :) expect more maybe

[navybrat817]

Hold You Tight: Part 9

Pairing: Club Owner!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Fic Summary: The owner of The 107th wants you to be his girl whether you like it or not.

Part 8 | Series Masterlist | Part 10

Chapter Summary: Bucky takes you home, but will he keep his hands to himself?

Chapter Word Count: Over 3.7k

Chapter Warnings: DARK AU, tension, dirty talk, unease, possessiveness, inner turmoil, slight feels, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?), more warnings to come.

A/N: More Hold You Tight and thank you for your patience! Hope you lovelies continue to enjoy. Bucky edit by the beautiful @nixakimbo . ❤️ Beta read by the lovely @whisperlullaby , but any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @firefly-graphics . Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You thought you heard the men wish you well once more when Bucky led you out of the office. You weren’t completely sure since you tried to block everything out, but attempting to disassociate wouldn’t exactly do you any good. The night wasn’t over yet and you had to stay sharp. You didn’t know what Bucky had planned for when he got you home. Were you prepared at all?

Not in the least.

You half expected to walk back through the front of the club to leave, but Ray directed you to a door near the back once he gave Bucky a nod. The car was waiting in the alley and you took a moment to glance up at the sky. You could only make out one star and you wished in that moment you could grow wings and fly away. But when did wishing upon a star do you any good?

“Let’s get you back to your place,” Bucky said, helping you into the car.

You had to give him credit for trying to keep up his end of the bargain by getting you home on time. Your body refused to relax though once he sat beside you and took your hand. Was he trying to get you accustomed to his touch? Make you crave him? It bothered you that in spite of your determination he drew you in to a certain degree. But you wouldn’t let him take you to bed tonight. You weren’t ready to cross that inevitable line.

Maybe, just maybe, if your performance in bed disappointed him, he’d get bored and walk away. The thought almost made you laugh. That wasn’t happening. If anything, he’d probably love teaching you how to be his perfect lover.

“I think tonight went well,” Bucky smiled.

“Which part exactly?” You mumbled, pulling your hand away. The part where he forced you to go, how his men all but admitted they knew Bucky stalked you, or how they beat the hell out of a man?

“Just the night in general. I knew everyone would love you, but I really think Thor wants to be your big brother now,” Bucky replied. You wanted it so badly to be endearing, but Thor was dangerous. He mentioned a father-in-law. How exactly did he find his wife? And bringing up the flower donations to the hospital. Bucky seemed upset. Why? “Which he’ll have to fight Steve for.”

“Fighting. You guys seem to excel in that arena,” you said, remembering how they all took turns beating up John. “But I guess Steve does have a bit of that ‘big brother’ vibe, helping you take total control of my life and whatnot.”

“Not total control. I’m still letting you work, but maybe I can buy the shop.” He chuckled at your thunderous expression. The light threat had you seeing red. “I probably shouldn't joke about that, should I?”

“Letting me work? Like it’s your decision? And don’t you dare buy the shop.” You pushed at him to keep from slapping him when he chuckled again. Not with enough force to get him far away from you, but you needed some sort of space in the vehicle. He also needed a good hit over the head. “You’re a bully, do you know that? So are your friends.”

His laughter died off quickly when he reached out and gently took your hand again, prying your fingers away from your palm. You didn’t notice it stung from your nails until he brought your hand to his mouth and kissed it. “You think we’re bullies?” He asked against your skin.

“Yes. Besides nearly beating that jerk to death, you do realize that you use force and threats to dominate and intimidate. That’s a form of bullying, Bucky,” you said. Was he deliberately being obtuse or was he lost in his delusion that this was all normal?

“I wouldn’t say we’re bullies. I call it protecting and keeping what’s mine,” he said. There was no shame on his end.

“Right. Because I’m a possession and not a person,” you said, your face scrunching up as you tried not to cry. You needed rest. If part of Bucky’s plan was to wear you down by overwhelming you, mission accomplished. “I’m so tired. I just want to go to bed.”

“You’re a person, not a possession, Kotyonok. And not just a person, a good person who gives so much of herself to others. And probably one of the only people who rightfully calls me out on my shit.” His response drew you up short. “Outside of my friends, no one else does that.”

“Maybe because they’re afraid of you and what you can do,” you said after a moment. Fear could make anyone say what they thought people wanted to hear. “Either that or they want your approval,” you added, which you could also understand to a point. People wanted a sense of belonging, especially with those who had influence and power.

“Maybe they are afraid,” he agreed, brushing his lips against your palm again with a sigh. “What is it about me that scares you most?”

“I’m not really sure exactly,” you admitted. There was so much about the situation that terrified you. What he was capable of. How he inserted himself into various aspects of your life and so quickly. How far he was willing to go to keep you. “But I think it’s your conviction. That you’re so sure that I’m your other half and no one can convince you otherwise, not even me.”

You could scream until your lungs gave out that you didn’t belong with him and you knew in your heart he’d argue until his last breath that you did. He was steadfast in that belief that you were soulmates. That conviction was so strong that what you really feared was that he would somehow convince you that he was right: that you belonged together.

Those steel blue eyes of his met yours and mesmerized you for a heartbeat before you looked away. “Love is scary. It’s natural to be afraid of it.” His lips brushed your ear, making you shiver. “But giving someone the most fragile parts of yourself is one of the bravest things a person can do.”

There was truth in his words, but it felt like he moved another chess piece into place. He was trying to disarm you and you couldn’t let him. “Who painted that black dahlia in your office?” You asked suddenly, feeling him move back enough that you could turn your head toward him. “And why display that flower?” You didn’t believe for a second that he chose it for aesthetic purposes.

“Beautiful, isn't it? Steve painted it,” he replied with an odd mixture of affection and bitterness. “It’s for my parents.”

“Steve is a gifted artist.” You hoped your voice stayed even enough that Bucky wouldn’t get jealous of you complimenting another man’s talent. “I don't know if the symbolism of flowers mean anything to you, but the black dahlia-”

“Betrayal. Sadness. Darkness,” he ticked off, his voice cold enough that another shiver moved through your body. “It was the last flower my dad ever got my mom and it serves as a reminder.”

You swallowed as warning bells sounded in your mind to tread carefully. “And what's that?”

He moved close, your eyes shutting as his hand wrapped around the nape of your neck. “That I'll never do to you what he did to her.”

There was suppressed rage within him. Sorrow. It rolled off him in waves strong enough that they could drown you. He said earlier that his dad got what he deserved. What had he done to his mom?

“You’re in pain,” you whispered. He was hurting and you logically shouldn’t care. So why did you want to know the cause of that hurt? “You have to tell me why.”

It wasn’t for you to use to your advantage. You weren’t sure if you could manipulate someone else. If you knew what happened though, it would at least give you more answers to who Bucky was and why he was the way he was. It could help you gain some sort of understanding.

“I’m not in pain when I’m with you,” he whispered, bringing your hand on his chest. Was he relying on you to chase away whatever haunted him? “Later. I’ve overwhelmed you enough for one evening.”

You let out a breath. You swore he was doing this on purpose, giving you just enough information that you’d wait around until he gave you more. “I can’t argue with you there,” you said, his heart racing under your touch. “Just answer one thing for me, please.”

“What’s that?”

“Marc from the bookstore,” you began, the man’s kind face shimmering in your mind. “Did anything happen to him?”

“I’d question another man being on your mind, but I know you’re just concerned about his well-being.” An easy smile crossed Bucky’s face as you bit your tongue. You could think about anyone you wanted to. “I can’t speak for him right this second, but he was perfectly fine when you and I left. He was just having a chat with one of my associates.”

You exhaled, thankful Marc wasn't hurt. “What kind of chat?” You asked. He was a nice guy, though he did seem to know a bit about Bucky. What exactly was he involved in?

“He just got a warning to be careful about what he does or doesn’t say to his customers.” You tensed before he kissed your forehead. Did he know about the conversation you two had? “And I don’t think the two of you should be alone with each other in the bookstore going forward.”

Just when Bucky had you feeling some sort of sympathy for him moments ago he shocked you right out of it. “Another decision that isn’t yours to make,” you stated, the car coming to a stop. “And you really don’t have to walk me up. I think we’ve had enough of each other’s company tonight.”

“I said I’m tucking you into bed and that’s exactly what I’m going to do.” The smile he gave you was nothing short of cocky when he added, “And you owe me a photo. I’m going to get it.”

He was a dog with a bone. He wouldn’t let that go. “Why don’t you just take a photo of me giving you the finger?” You suggested as he helped you out of the car.

“Only if you do it with a smile. I’ll even set it as the background on my phone,” he winked. Your reluctance and defiance of him didn’t phase him in the slightest. “And if you give me the finger, I’ll take it as an invitation that you want to fuck me.”

“Let’s go, please.”

You said nothing else as you went into the building, your anxiety mounting by the second. The slow rise of the elevator didn’t help, Bucky’s hip pressed against yours like he couldn’t stand to have space between you. You figure he’d shove you against the wall and claim your mouth, but he didn’t make a move. It impressed you that he behaved until you got to your floor. It didn’t stop your hand from shaking when you got your keys out.

“Still don’t want to say good night now?”

“I don’t want to say good night at all,” he answered, following you into the apartment and turning on the light. The welcoming feeling you expected when you got home wasn't there. There was a chill in the usual warmth.

“Well, you’ll have to sooner or later,” you said, swallowing when you faced Bucky. He shut the door and watched intently as you set your keys and bag down. You were quiet as you stared back, tension thick as you tried to predict what he was going to do. Once again, he managed to hold all the power in your home.

“Have I told you how beautiful you are?” He asked, heat and hunger in his stare as he slowly advanced.

Your throat went dry as you stepped back. “You have.”

“So beautiful and so good.” You made another move to retreat when he stepped forward, his manner confident and compelling as he reached out and prevented you from moving back further. “It’s driving me crazy not having you yet.”

“Please, you don’t…” you trailed off when he sank to his knees, unexpected heat flowing from your core. He guided one of your hands to his shoulder to brace yourself, his eyes soft as he helped remove one of your shoes. You found it difficult to breathe as he removed the other, his hand brushing your ankle with infinite tenderness. Like it was an honor to touch and be on his knees for you.

“I know the first time I taste you I’ll never want to stop. I’ll have to wake up every day between your thighs. Fall asleep that way, too.” His hand slid up your calf and his eyes darkened when your other hand found its way to his thick locks. Wetness gathered between your legs when his touch moved to your thigh. “Your pussy is hungry for me, isn’t it? My fingers, my tongue, my cock. I’ll feed her well.”

His voice was like velvet. Seductive. Aching. “Bucky…” Your breath rushed out swiftly when he kissed your mound through your clothes, tormenting you with arousal you didn’t ask for. It frightened you.

“I can smell you,” he murmured, nosing along where his lips had been before he sat back. “Smell so fucking good.”

Moving your shoes out of the way, he rose to his full height again as you willed your legs not to shake. You weren’t used to anyone looking at you, let alone speak to you, the way he did. Stark desire. Possessiveness. His form of love. Your heart pounded and you refused to answer him or glance down. If you looked at the front of his pants…

He took your hand and pulled you in the direction of the bedroom. Your heart pounded with mounting speed, your heels digging into the floor. “You still haven't kissed me,” you blurted out, hoping it would prevent him from taking you to bed. Or would he take that as an invitation to kiss your lips?

“No, I haven't.” You tried to keep some distance between you as he went to your bed, his hand moving along the blanket. You couldn't breathe. “It scares you how much your body wants mine, doesn’t it?”

“Is that what you think?” You asked, forcing air back into your lungs. It did scare you. It also scared you that you didn’t push him away or scream when he dropped to his knees to remove your shoes. Where was your fighting instinct?

“It is what I think.” The ease in which he moved away from the bed to your dresser to find your pajamas frightened you, too. Like he belonged in your room. You thought back to the night he broke in and left your gift on your bed. How much time did he take to look around? “Like love, giving your body to someone can be scary. You have to trust that you won't get hurt when you’re physically vulnerable.”

“You swore you wouldn't hurt me,” you reminded him.

“And I won't. But you know what else I think?” His magnetic gaze stayed on you as he brought a nightgown over. “That no guy has ever really taken care of you and you’re apprehensive to let me try.”

If you were apprehensive, it was because he was a walking red flag. “What makes you…” Your words stopped when he grasped the bottom of your shirt and pulled it up. Your arms instinctively went up before you realized what you were doing. Removing your shirt, you didn’t get a chance to cover your breasts before he slipped the nightgown on you.

“Your past boyfriends never did anything for you. Emotionally, physically,” he stated, sliding his hands under the nightgown to your hips. Grasping the hem of your pants, he pushed them down as far as he could. “I’ll bet they didn’t even buy you flowers and used the excuse that they didn’t because you’re a florist.”

The words were tiny cuts on old wounds, but you wouldn't give him the satisfaction. “And you will?”

“I will. I’ll give you the life and love you deserve, making you forget any other man out there existed before me.” His eyes raked over you as you stepped out of your pants, your panties still soaked. “But I’m not gonna fuck you.”

Exhaling slowly, relief flooded you. Though you couldn’t help but wonder why he wasn’t trying to take what he wanted. “You won’t?”

“Not tonight.” He shook his head even as his fingers moved along your waist. “Like I said, I’ve overwhelmed you enough. Sleeping with you might really put you over the edge.”

“Thanks.” He desired you, but continued to hold it at bay for your sake. How long would that last? “I appreciate that.”

“And we both know the moment I take you to bed, you’ll be begging for more.” His voice dropped as he toyed with the soft fabric. “And as much as I want to stay in bed with you all night and morning and give us what we both crave, I still need to get things in place at the penthouse and you need rest. You understand.”

You tried not to smile and failed. He acted as if he was doing you a favor. Cocky bastard. “I guess we’ll just have to suffer until then.” Sarcasm continued to be a good way to deflect.

He exhaled at your light teasing, his body still a bit tense. Being close to you and not having you was probably driving him mad. “Maybe we'll have to have another private call and finish what we started. Give us both some relief.” He turned you toward the door and gave you a light swat on your ass. “Go wash your face and brush your teeth before I change my mind.”

You made it to the bathroom in record time, not having to be told twice. You didn’t want to risk staying there in case he lost his resolve. Looking in the mirror as you went through the rest of your nighttime routine, you expected to look more exhausted from the whirlwind of the day. You somehow looked wide awake. Was the experience giving you thicker skin? Or did his desire for you somehow give you a bit of a twisted spark? You’d still be billing him for your future therapy bills either way.

A couple of deep breaths and you made your way back to your bedroom. You paused when you saw Bucky holding a framed photo of you and your friends, longing in his eyes when he lifted his gaze. “You look so happy,” he murmured, carefully setting the frame down on the nightstand before he pulled the blankets back for you. “Can you do me one favor and I’ll go?”

“I was happy. It was a fun day.” You slipped into bed when he gave you space to do so, but his body was still close to yours. Firm. Hard. He really could pin you down and do what he wanted if he wished. “What’s the favor?”

He tucked the blanket around you, his hair falling into his face. You almost reached up to brush it back, but refrained. Who knew what your touch would do? “Look at me like you love me. Please.”

You stiffened as you stared up at his face, your heart simultaneously racing and breaking for him. Love was something that provided a sense of connection, fulfillment. It was a way to show you that you weren’t alone in the world. You wanted to believe you were worthy of love, that you could build a life with someone. Bucky believed he was that someone.

Why?

You weren’t sure if it was his yearning gaze or if you were ready for the night to end, but your expression softened as you imagined meeting him in another life. Going on fun dates, talking about books, making each other laugh as you cooked together, snuggling under a blanket as you talked about your future. You found yourself smiling at the images that went through your mind. What could’ve been. What could be if he lessened his hold a bit on you.

He audibly exhaled when he snapped a photo on his phone, making you blink. “Thank you. Now I can look at this whenever I’m not near you and need to feel your love.”

Words escaped you, the invisible collar around your throat getting tighter. You could only nod and wonder how you kept throwing fuel on the fire of his want for you. Which one of you would burn first?

“Get some sleep. Dream sweet dreams.” You felt featherlight kisses on each eyelid when you shut them. “You know, I’ll sleep a lot easier once you’re in my bed.”

“If you get me into your bed,” you mumbled, refusing to look at him.

“Stubborn kitten.” He chuckled and gave each eyelid one more kiss. Why were his lips so soft? “Maybe I’ll stop by the shop tomorrow so I can take you to lunch. You can tell Addison all about it.”

“Maybe.” You yawned and snuggled more into your pillows. “Good night, Bucky.”

A finger moved along your cheek before it stopped abruptly. “Good night, Kotyonok.”

Bucky still hadn't kissed your mouth.

You didn’t open your eyes as he left, but you didn’t fall asleep right away either. Your body was too wound up. Too many questions went through your mind. Like what happened with his parents and how exactly he’d move you out of your place.

The man was a step ahead in everything. You’d be in his penthouse before the month was over. He’d get his way, but maybe it didn't have to be his way completely. He could give you an area in the place for you and you alone. It wouldn’t hurt to ask. After all, he did say he’d make it up to you by dragging you out tonight.

And if he cared the way he said he did, he could give you that one small thing.

Is our poor Kotyonok starting to accept the inevitable? Will Bucky stop by the shop? And how much longer until he really takes you to bed?Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

The Dark Lord

Summary: The reader gets caught stealing from the infamous Dark Lord Winchester. Instead of killing her though, he offers her a job for some reason...

Pairing: Dark Lord!Dean x employee!reader

Word Count: 2,500ish

Warnings: language, briefly mentioned torture/killing

A/N: Think of this as a slightly magical AU set in the present day. I might pick this up again if there seems to be interest in more!...

________

“I don’t care what the hell you do to me, I’m not-” You cut yourself off when a blonde woman in her thirties and sky high heels held out a cup of hot coffee. “Is that…espresso?”

“It’s a roasted blend from Guatemala, boss is big on it lately. He’s so boring and never let’s me give him anything but straight black but I like to serve all our guests something nice.” She set the cup in your hand, an artisanal drawing of a W set in the center. “It has notes of hazelnut and caramel.”

“Thank you?” you said, her eyes lighting up. “Is this…poisoned?” 

Her face fell so fast you felt awful for the way tears prickled her eyes. “Everyone always asks that. It’s just nice coffee.”

“I’m sorry,” you said, taking a sip and smiling. “It’s lovely.”

“Thanks,” she mumbled, turning to leave the dark room you were sat in.

“It really is good coffee.” She perked up a little, nodding once. “It’s just…I couldn’t help but ask.”

You held up your chained hands, the woman giving a sad smile. “Dark Lord Winchester is really the sweetest man I’ve ever met. I have no idea why everyone that he has come in his office thinks he’s going to kill them.”

“He kills people all the time…over nothing…” you said. She laughed and your stomach dropped.

“Oh no, Lord Winchester doesn’t do that! I’ve never seen him kill a soul that didn’t deserve it. Well, maybe a few but I seriously doubt he’ll kill you! He doesn’t tend to kill women as often, just a little torture. I’m sure you’ll be fine!” You withered into your seat when she left.

At least you had good coffee before your demise.

You jumped when the door crashed open, hot coffee spilling over yourself. It dripped down your shirt and soaked into your jeans, your skin stinging when a blur passed your periphery. You swallowed thickly as a man in a black bomber jacket, dark gray t shirt and black jeans walked in front of you.  He crossed his muscular arms as he leaned back against the desk, peering down at you.

He looked like he wanted to kill you. Or fuck you. Or both.

“Hi, Dark Lord Winchester,” you squeaked out. He bent at his hips, leaning down, watching you slump down even further. “Oh fuck, just kill me now.”

“Not yet,” he hummed, straightening with a hard set jaw. He looked down his nose at you, making you feel like an ant under his mighty six foot one muscular frame. “My security caught you stealing from one of my warehouses. I’m told it was a prescription drug.”

“Yes, Lord Winchester,” you said quietly. You looked at your wet clothes, waiting for him to drag you down to his dungeon and rip you apart.

Instead a cell phone was tossed in your lap. You scrunched up your face and gazed up at him, Lord Winchester still staring you down. 

“Uh, is this my last call or something?” you asked. He breathed deeply, looking over your head. 

“Two options. Option one. I will kill you for stealing from me.”

“I’d like to hear option two,” you said quickly, Lord Winchester glaring at you.

“Option two. You work for me. I need an assistant and perhaps I’ll find you valuable enough to keep you alive long term.”

“Option two,” you said, nodding your head. He stood up straight and hummed. 

“I thought so. You’re dismissed,” he said. You glanced down at your cuffs, Lord Winchester ignoring you. He walked around behind his desk and sat, glancing at his computer. “Do not make me ask again.”

You scurried out of the chair, grasping the empty mug in one hand, cellphone in the other. 

“Y/L/N.” You froze, back to him. Fuck, he’d changed his mind. He was just toying with you. He was going to- “Get up to speed this afternoon. I expect you here to start eight am sharp.”

“Yes, Lord Winchester.” Quickly you left, pulling the door shut behind you. You let out a sigh, your overly friendly coffee bearing companion rushing around the corner with a smile. “I told you he wouldn’t kill you! Boss made me promise not to tell. I’m Donna by the way. Deputy Head of Security. I volunteered to be your new hire buddy!”

You blinked slowly at the blonde, tilting your head, her eyes drifting downward in alarm. “Oh no, you’ve burned yourself! Let’s get you out of those cuffs, to the infirmary and into a fresh change of clothes. Lord Winchester wants to go through all of your HR paperwork today and a brief tour before sending you home.”

“I uh,” you put a hand against your head, shaking it out. “Why did he give me a job and not kill me?”

“He must like you. Normally he kills people or tortures them or makes them pay him back with hefty interest. Oh!” She pulled out a thin envelope from her back pocket, handing it to you. “This is your offer letter. It’s not really an offer, more of you have to accept or you die sort of thing but he wanted to make sure you got this.”

You felt like you were in a strange dream as you tore it open, slowly walking by Donna’s side down a hallway. “So Michael is our staff doctor. He’ll check your arms-”

You nearly fell when you’d read the salary on the offer letter. Donna caught your waist, alarm written all over her face. “Oh my god. I’m calling for-”

You shoved the paper in her face, taping the bolded line. “Is this a joke? He’s paying me this much?”

Donna laughed, urging you to walk forward again. 

“Six figures? Six figures?!” you screeched, Donna shaking her head. “What-”

“Working for Lord Winchester is lucrative but…there’s an expectation of discretion. I mean, he is the Dark Lord of the land. It’s not the sort of job you want to slack off at.” 

“Wonderful.”

It was late, well into the evening, when you’d finished with your tour. You were in the lobby of Lord Winchester’s fortress, rubbing your eyes. Michael had given you a pair of scrubs to change into while your stained clothes were sent to the launder. Thankfully he’d deemed your skin only irritated from the hot coffee, not burned. Most of the day had been in HR, Donna sitting in to help guide you through your options.

Options like free healthcare. A pension. On-site housing. As his assistant, or “Personal Executive to The Dark Lord” as your title in the payroll system stated, you were expected to live in the fortress and move in this weekend. All covered and utilities paid for by the company. 

A chef that cooked all your meals, if you were so inclined. Shuttle services to and from school in town with a tutor available after school to help with homework. A grand library for kids to study in and for the adults to further their own educational studies if they chose. There was even an inter-company softball league that got quite competitive. 

Dark Lord Winchester on paper was the best fucking boss in the world.

A throat cleared behind you, making you jump and drop the stack of papers in your hands. You spun around, Dark Lord Winchester standing there.

“Sorry, sir,” you said, kneeling down, attempting to pick up the papers as quickly as possible. To your surprise, he dropped to one knee, leaning his body and grabbing a folder that had your company credit card inside. He held it out to you, deep green eyes watching you as you hesitated to take it.

“If you’re going to work for me, you can’t be scared shitless all the time.” You snatched the folder, his eyes raising briefly before he stood tall. He held out a hand, your own eyes wide. “This is where you put your hand in mine and I help you stand up.”

You swallowed, doing as told, his strong arm effortlessly pulling you up.

“Look at that. You touched me and didn’t turn to dust,” he chuckled. You only stared, Lord Winchester looking over your head. “Let me make something clear to you. I treat my employees extremely well. In return, I expect their best work and their loyalty. If you show up to work and do a good job, there is no reason to fear me.”

“How do I know I’m doing a good job?” you whispered. He looked down to you, pursing his lips.

“You’re the damn Executive Assistant to The Dark Lord. You ask a question, you do it with confidence. Ask correctly and I’ll answer.”

“How will I know I’m doing my job well?” you said, holding his gaze this time. 

“Any woman that would risk stealing from the Dark Lord, knowing very well what I do to thieves, to get medicine for their kid brother? That is the kind of woman that I know will do spectacular in this job.” 

You parted your lips, Dark Lord Winchester glancing at them before looking away. “How do you-”

“I know lots of things.” He checked the dark rolex on his wrist, frowning. “It’s late. I’ll drive you home myself. Wait on the front steps.”

You watched him go down a different hallway, your head going a million miles an hour.

What the fuck was happening?

You stepped outside and five minutes later, an older black Impala, very nicely taken care of, pulled up, Dark Lord Winchester behind the wheel. You slid in the passenger seat, a wonderful aroma in the air. He drove you home in silence save for the soft rock music playing through the speakers.

Your face burned when he drove that beautiful car through your less than glamorous neighborhood and as soon as he pulled to a stop in front of your very small rental, you were getting out. 

“Y/L/N,” he chided. You stopped halfway, Lord Winchester reaching into the backseat and pulling over the back a large white bag. “For you and your brother. Dinner and his medication for a few months. Michael will be able to refill it when it’s up and can schedule a physical with him to check if his treatment needs to alter. Please apologize to your brother from me. He’s likely frightened being alone judging by the way every light is on inside.”

You shook your head, your lip tugging up. He narrowed his eyes as your smirk grew. “What is that look for?”

“Dark Lord Winchester my ass. You’re a good person, aren’t you?” He scoffed. “Nah, I’m starting to see this for what it is. Don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone you’re nice deep down.”

“I’m not nice,” he growled. You took the bag from his hand, softening your smile. “Do not think I’m kind.”

“Oh, of course not,” you said, holding up the bag. You got out, closing the door behind you. But you bent down, leaning into the open window. “Thank you. He…his asthma’s been getting worse lately. This will really help us. All of it will help.”

He was quiet, looking out at the dark road. “A car will pick you up at 7:30. Movers will come by Saturday morning to pack up your things.”

“Goodnight, Lord Winchester,” you said, stepping back.

“It’s Dean,” he said, revving the engine, making your heart race. He took off, your chest still thumping when you went inside. 

“Kyle! I’m home with dinner!” You called. Kyle came rushing out of the hallway, a blanket pulled over his head. “I’m so sorry I’m late, buddy. Did you get scared?”

“No,” said the twelve year old, doing an awful job of hiding his relief. “What’s for dinner?”

“I’m not sure. Why don’t you find out for us?” You handed him the bag, Kyle rushing back to the kitchen with it. “How was school?”

“Fine.” He said nothing more as you entered, pleasantly surprised to find a balanced dinner of chicken, vegetables and some sweet potatoes inside. “Is this take out?”

“No. I uh, got a new job today,” you said, opening the box that had his medicine inside. “Hey. Got you a refill.”

“What’s your new job?” he asked, taking a plate from you and scooting into his spot at the small two seater table.

“I uh…work for Dark Lord Winchester. We’re, uh, moving on Saturday to live at the fortress. You’ll have your own room and there’s some other kids that live there too for you to play with. He uh, actually wanted me to tell you how sorry he was for keeping me late tonight.”

“Really? Cool.” You rolled your eyes. “Does he actually wear a skull mask and a black cloak?”

“No,” you laughed. “He looks very normal. Maybe you’ll get to meet him someday.”

“Cool,” he said again, frowning when you pointed at his untouched vegetables. “Y/N-“

“Eat them or Dark Lord Winchester won’t be happy…” you chided, Kyle shrinking down into his seat, reluctantly taking a bite, a flash of surprise on his face.

“These are way better than when you make them!” He started to scarf down the brussels sprouts as you sighed.

“I’m not dead and you’re eating veggies for once. I’ll take that as a win for today.”

The Next Morning

“Good morning, Lord Winchester,” you said as you rose from your desk outside his office on the far end of the second floor, dressed in skinny jeans, a bright yellow sleeveless blouse and an oversized blazer. Dean looked you up and down, his eyebrows raising. “HR said the dress code-“

“If I wanted everyone to wear suits, I’d have everyone wear them. Your outfit is fine. You’re probably not going to wear heels with the running around you’ll do,” he said, entering his office, waving for you to follow after. His legs looked long in the dark denim that clung to his thighs. He wore a white long sleeve Henley shirt with a navy button up over top, sleeves rolled up his forearms. “If you would stop staring at me could we get started?”

Your face flushed as you sat in the chair opposite his desk, Dean sitting with a groan and greedily sucking down a cup of coffee. 

“So your job is to make my life easier,” he said, opening his laptop, frowning at it. “I get a lot of…requests from my department heads. I need you to be a buffer between me and them for the day to day. I also need you to handle pop ups and act as a sounding board for myself.”

“HR went over the expectations with me,” you said, Dean grunting as he drank more coffee again. 

“Great. I need you to start with brainstorming ideas for how to rescue my brother from Crowley. We’ll meet after lunch to discuss.”

“King of The Dark Lands Crowley?” Dean hummed. “Isn’t he…”

“A demon? Oh yeah,” he said, giving you a barely there smile. “Shouldn’t be a problem for a little thief like you.”

________

A/N: Interested in more? Let me know with a comment!

[mondaymelon]

choose . post options (and random ass q&a) utc !!

-> temporarily pinning this . old pinned !!

"ohhh melon why did you close asks ohhhh melon why arent u taking req" - you, maybe

i closed asks bc i got burnt out answering them !! sorry sorry i suck at interaction even online , they piled up so much i lost a lot of motivation in answering them but hopefully ill get through most of em .. at some point

if you really really need to talk to me like for some reason you genuinely will explode if u don't i do have a sideblog so. just scamper over to there idk

as for reqs... oh man they havent been open for a good half year.. the day will come if i either run out of ideas (which is. uhm probably not possible) , reach record heights of delusional , or simply feel like it . though keep in mind i do selective reqs!! ill only write the ones im interested in qq

"what about the events and series you never finished melon what of them are you abandoning your children" - you, perhaps

hahahahh uhm. im really bad w commitment. so yes, most likely. that one forgotten coffee shop au with kavetham that never even got its first chapter is never coming back.

names once whispered on the breeze (smau) hasn't been posted since like last year june .. i lost interest in the formatting since i gen like writing long posts more and also i did have a plan for the plot but it was shit and i lost interest. sorry for all the people who supported and loved the series but i couldn't reciprocate that same love. i am not paying child support either

500+ and halloween events... in the former didnt expect to get so many requests, and writing 3-ish took every ounce of soul in me. as for halloween, it was fun to write but since im a stupid little 瓜 i couldn't figure out how to end the series. 4 chpaters and a cliffhanger is all yall are getting :P

"melon how could you do this you big fat meanie i am going to boohoo and shit all over u" - you, to the slightest possibility

ok now why would you do that

thanks please vote mwah ilyall

[koji-haru]

Time Travel AU Part: 14

Michael had been spending a lot more time in the garden. His visits had become a daily occurrence where he would spend hours with the first man before returning to Heaven at the end of the day. Adam didn’t really mind having the angel around. While he didn’t enjoy having to hide who he truly was whenever the angel was there, having someone to talk to and could reply back was something he welcomed. After having spent more time and actually getting to know the angel, Michael was not what Adam had expected. He was sure the guy was just doing his job of looking after the garden, but the daily visits, the small gifts here and there, and just coming by to ‘spend time’ with him… In Adam’s previous life, he never really talked to the angel. Not because they hated each other, it was more like Adam thought they just would never get along so he never bothered to know the guy. Adam was loud, Michael kept to himself; Adam liked to push Heaven’s boundaries, Michael was a stickler for the rules; Adam liked his parties, Michael was barely seen outside of work. In short, they seemed to be polar opposites. And yet, here they were playing board games as if they were best buddies. 

“But then maybe it’s because of the act I put on,” Adam mused as he waited for Michael to finish his turn. His eyes trailed the angel’s hand as Michael moved a piece across the checkered board and took out his bishop. Another piece he lost. The game wasn’t looking too good for Adam.

“I was wondering,” Adam started, cheek resting on his palm. “Doesn’t Heaven require a lot of your time?”

Michael looked up from the board, his focus broken by Adam’s sudden question. “Oh. Well, I’m quite efficient so I have some spare time,” he replied as he placed the fallen bishop piece on the grass on his side of the board. 

Adam simply hummed in response. Heaven was pretty demanding, but since this was at the start of time, he supposed the workload hadn’t arrived and piled up yet. He shifted his attention back to the game in front of him. The number of pieces he had were dwindling. Only a few pawns remained, two knights, a tower, his queen and, of course, the king. He pondered about putting a few pieces at risk, maybe even sacrificing some of them, just so he could get rid of Michael’s queen piece. Risky, but it could turn the tide. After giving it some more thought, Adam decided his next move. His hand reluctantly placed a knight in line of sight of Michael’s tower piece. 

Hands hovered above the board, pieces moved across closer to victory or sacrificed and taken out, and then after a while, a checkmate to end the game. Adam eyed the board in front of him, he just lost the game. With a defeated sigh, he plopped down onto the soft grass on his back, his head dull and heavy from having to think of his moves and counter moves against Michael. 

“Adam?,” Michael asked, a hint of concern in his voice. “Are you alright?”

“No,” replied Adam. “You’ve vanquished me and destroyed my kingdom. How can I be alright?” He dramatically waved his hand in the air before letting them back down onto the grass with a soft flump. He turned to his side and met Amora’s board gaze staring back at him. “You’ll avenge me, won't you girl?”

The jaguar simply snorted in response as she turned her head away from the first man. 

“Well, you’ve only been getting, so I also had to improve myself to keep up,” Michael chuckled with fondness at Adam’s dramatics. With a snap of his fingers, the wooden board and its pieces vanished in a poof of silver smoke. “By the way,” Michael continued as he inched a little nervously closer to the human, who was still lying flat on the grass. “I remembered you said you’d like the instrument you made, the guitar I think it was, to somehow be made of metals.” He placed a hand on his nape and looked a little sheepishly in a random direction. “I still have some time to spare, so if you want, I can help you with that…”

As if a freezing bucket of water was splashed on him, Adam immediately sat up, his golden eyes sparkling brighter than any star in the sky, an excited childish smile on his lips as he grasped Michael’s hand in astonishment. “Really?!”

The angel’s face became tinted with yellow as warmth rushed to his cheeks at the humans' sudden close proximity. He looked down at his hand encaged between Adam’s soft warm hands, stupefied by the sensations he was feeling. “Uh, uhm, yes?” He cleared his throat, “I mean, yes. If you’d like to.”

Without a second thought, Adam kept a hand held onto Michael’s hand as he dragged the angel towards a specific direction.

The two arrived in a large cave in a corner of the garden. The dark cave glistened and sparkled with various colours as the little light that entered the cave reflected off of the numerous gems and metals that coated the cave’s walls, like distant stars on an expanding night sky. 

“You know, I could have just made the materials you wanted,” Michael commented as he watched Adam examine some colourful rocks with intense scrutiny. 

“Nono, I’d like it to be made from Eden,” Adam answered, his focus still on the ores as he carefully looked for gold. 

Not really understanding what the human was looking for, Michael moved beside Adam trying to follow what his eyes were looking for. “Okay, so what should I look for?”

Adam held up a small rock in front of Michael. It was jagged simple grey rock if not for the spots of gold scattered all across the rock. “Something like this, except we’re going to need way waaay more. My guitar is going to be perfect!,” Adam excitedly replied, his own eyes sparkling brighter than any of the precious stones and metals in the massive cave. 

Michael took the small ore from Adam’s hand, turning it over in his hand as he carefully examined it. The angel thought it was oddly specific; of all the materials Adam could’ve chosen, like it was something he had been wanting for a while now. He looked up again to see Adam already looking for more of that gold speckled rock, his excitement radiating off of him as it bounced off the walls of the cave, infecting even Michael myself. A satisfied feeling warmed his entire being, knowing he was the reason for the first man’s current happiness. Of all the precious materials he could choose from this cave, he would choose this without a second thought. 

The two spent time looking for gold and silver ores. Occasionally, Adam would take out some ores from the container that Michael had picked, or stop the angel from picking it in the first place. “Nono, that’s pyrite not gold,” Adam corrected. He would put a gold ore beside a chalcopyrite ore and try to highlight the difference between the two, while Michael would try to spot the differences but clearly have some difficulty with it. 

“I don’t know how you can tell immediately,” Michael remarked, still holding the two different ores.

“I just can,” Adam shrugged as he put another ore into the container. “There. That should be enough.” He wiped some sweat off his forehead. The hard part was done. Now, it was time for some magic. 

“We won’t use the entire rock?,” inquired Michael.

“No, I just need your help to extract and shape these,” Adam pointed into the coloured specks on the grey rocks. 

With a simple wave of the angel’s hand, the precious metals embedded on the rocks flowed out like liquid through the air as he meticulously shaped them according to his human companion’s wishes. A body consisting mainly of gold, lined with silver at the bottom; a silver neck, and a golden headstock shaped like a lyre. It was a beautiful design, unlike anything Michael had seen before. A heavenly item made from the garden of Eden. 

As soon as it was finished, the golden guitar floated down into the hands of its new owner. Adam gasped in awe when he felt the cool metal hit his skin. Its smooth shiny surface, the intricate carvings, the sound it emitted when he strummed the strings. It was exactly just like his old guitar when he was an angel. It even had that faint heavenly glow! His hands shook from the sheer joy and excitement of having his guitar back.

“Do you want to try play some music with it?,” Michael suggested, his smile warm from the bubbling happiness from inside him. 

Adam shifted the guitar in his arms until it felt right and comfortable, just like back then. His fingers brushed over the strings, strumming it lightly, before he played an alluring melody that echoed faintly within the cave, giving it an otherworldly tone. 

“This song’s for you Michael. As thanks for helping me make this guitar.”

—-

Adam dragged his feet back towards his favourite tree where Amora laid waiting. The sun had set a few minutes ago, the sky had turned from a pinkish orange to purple-blue with the stars blinking one by one as they awoke from their day-long slumber. The day had been long, but eventful and fulfilling. He placed the golden guitar carefully on the ground before allowing himself to slump down beside Amora, her spotted fur always a soft thing to hug against. 

He let out a deep satisfied sigh as he released Amora from his hug and turned to lay on his back. More stars had started to show on the darkening night sky, the moon slowly inching its way to the highest point of the night. 

“You know, I didn’t think Michael would be that nice,” he told the jaguar. “Waaay nicer and better than that snake Lucifer. Definitely the cooler brother.” He sat up and held the new guitar up to show Amora. “Look! He even made me this guitar! Isn’t it cool?”

Amora simply gave the guitar a bored stare before lying her head back down on the soft grass. 

“You’re so mean sometimes you know,” huffed Adam as he let exhaustion drag him back down towards the grass. 

The sky tonight was absent of any clouds, never-ending a dark blue canvas that expanded beyond the eye could see, speckled with white shining glitter all over it, and a bright round moon that commanded silent attention from all. The night’s cool breeze glided over his skin, taking away the excess warmth from his day activities, the stillness of the dark, a lullaby that encouraged his eyes to close and for his body to rest. 

Adam let out a yawn, sleep was calling to him. “Honestly, I’m glad to have someone like Michael as a friend.”

A loud, almost mocking, snort stopped the first man from falling into sleep. He turned his head to face the disapproving look of the jaguar. “There you go again. What’s with that look?,” asked Adam, completely bewildered by Amora’s recent behaviour. “You used to be much sweeter…”

And because she’s an animal, Amora couldn’t talk the way Adam did. So, she communicated what she meant by moving closer to the human and draping her large paw over him almost like a suffocating embrace. 

“Wha– Hey!,” cried out Adam, his voice slightly muffled by the fluff that was suddenly on him. 

Despite his struggles, Amora easily kept Adam still beneath her paw and began to lick his head, like a mother grooming her precious child who still knew nothing about the things around him.

Part 13

Part 15

[laundrypause]

AU where loscar are in high school, Oscar's quite popular and Logan is not as popular but just as much as well-liked. One thing about Logan is he is the most oblivious human to ever exist in the entirety of mankind. People flirting with him? Nah, they're just being nice. Getting chocolates for Valentine's? They must feel bad that he doesn't have one. Notes with hearts attached to phone numbers mysteriously finding their way into his locker? Must be the people he's been partnered with for their midterms. At first, Logan's secret admirers thought he was trying to reject them without outwardly saying no to their advances. And if that really was the case, they'd back off cause yk common decency. But then they find out he actually doesn't realise that these advances are essentially what they are. Advances. So they do what seemed like a perfectly reasonable solution and asked one of Logan's best friends to help them out because maybe their flirtations were too general. Too normal. They needed an insider who knew what Logan liked other than fishing and cars. Things that made his heart flutter, his cheeks blush. They wanted him to know that they were interested in him, not just being friendly. So who else to ask none other than Oscar to help them out.

Oscar wouldn't say he was Logan's bestest best closest friend who knew everything about him down to a T. That position was occupied. But Oscar thinks he knows Logan enough to try and be a Cupid-associate per say and help these poor souls who decided to fall for Oblivious Man™. He doesn't know what the tightening of his chest or the flood of fire trickling through his body means but it's probably the odd gloop of greens the cafeteria calls lunch he ate. Not for any other reason at all.

For about 2 weeks straight, Oscar's the designated Loge(Love) Guru, attempting to inconspicuously ask Logan questions and relaying pieces of said information to the admirers that fit the list of questions they'd emailed him. Yes, emailed him like social media didn't exist and this was the early 2000s or something. The list of questions include:

What's Logan's favourite color?

Is he a steak kinda guy?

His ideal type in 3 words?

Coach or Gucci?

And other questions Oscar deemed.... he'd rather not ask (let's leave it at that).

Logan's a little confused about the sudden influx of questions hurled at him by Oscar but deigns it harmless enough. If it meant he'd get to spend more time with Oscar, he'd take it. Who's there to judge him? Exactly. No one.

It's been weeks ever since the admirers have asked Oscar for help and still...no dice. It seemed like after they'd requested Oscar's expertise, Logan's become even more detached to their pursuits, which should definitely be impossible but it's Logan. He always somehow manages to defy the odds. But maybe this is a sign of some sort, that Logan will never manage to see through the fog and accept that it's possible for people to experience attraction towards him.

When they say this to Oscar, however, he's weirdly defensive. Saying how could they just give up that easily, if they're actually serious about Logan why are they not doing anything more, that actually they were asking the wrong questions. That did they not realize that Logan wasn't that much of a materialist? Their actions need to have meaning, their gifts need to convey a message. They can't just throw a designer watch at him expecting him to know their intentions. Hell, he wouldn't even accept the damn gift because oh why would you spend so much on me? I can't accept this.

Nor can they can't just give him flowers all willy-nilly, just grabbing them off a shelf because it's the most expensive. Purple so obviously clashes with him and didn't they remember when Oscar said Logan liked yellow? They should've gotten him a yellow bouquet with greens and blues complimenting it, yellow because he was as bright as the sun, always exuding warmth and blues and greens because they were the colors of his eyes and wrapped with delicate pink crêpe paper because that's the color of his cheeks whenever he flushes and-

Oh my God, they were dumbasses. Idiots, fools, blockheads. Of course Oscar's 'advice' didn't work. It didn't work because he liked him. He liked Logan. Shit, it was all starting to make sense now, why none of the help Oscar lent truly...helped. Because he didn't want to help them. Because he liked Logan and didn't want them to- God how were they so dumb? It's so obvious now, so clear. The way Oscar's eyes always managed to soften when Logan was in his radar, the immediate hardening of his body, muscles taut whenever someone says something less than friendly to the American, ready to jump into a fight like an aggravated cat or even the way he always seemed to be the first person in line to lend Logan a shoulder when he's tired out of his mind, staving off sleep just to do one more calc question.

Always the one forcing him to take care of himself whenever Logan forgets to. God, they were complaining about Logan being the oblivious one but how about them? Being completely blind to the obvious lovesick simp that was still going on about how the direction of the quirk of Logan's mouth could clearly tell you about the mood he's in.

Oscar, the most discreetly obvious about his feelings. So discreet, he managed to go unnoticed by the admirers until now. So discreet, he himself doesn't realize the extent of what he's feeling for Logan isn't just platonic.

[rs-hawk]

(1991 Disney version) Beauty and the Beast au where they met as kids,belle was 8 while Adam was 11 but Adam has been recently turned into a beast,he act a bit bratty but in reality he’s a kid scared of his own situation

Happy Beauty and the Beast week! Here's Day One. I really hope you like it.

Hope this goes without saying, but this is just a fluff piece.

Maurice hated the idea of taking his daughter to that spoiled Prince's castle, but what choice did he have? The Prince's parents had died, and while he was nothing more than a low level engineering advisor to the boy's father, he knew that he was still expected to check in on him, and this would be his first large celebration without them. Maurice also knew that he couldn't leave his motherless daughter at home alone. Not to mention, while he didn't like to admit it, he understood that the boy truly wasn't terrible. He was dealing with more than any child should have to.

It was a short journey to the castle, but when the rain started, Maurice pulled the cart to the side. Belle, bundled in her small cloak, was huddled close to her father, trying to keep warm and somewhat sheltered from the rain.

"Father, we're going to be late," she said through chattering teeth.

"I know Belle, but it's not safe to continue in this kind of weather. We have to wait out the storm," her father sighed, looking up through the canopy of the forest at the falling rain. "Why don't we make ourselves comfortable, hm? You can take a nap so that way you have plenty of energy to make it up to Prince Adam. I'll let you stay up later so the two of you can play when we get there."

Belle puffed out her cheeks and furrowed her brows, looking incredibly cute, but also incredibly annoyed. "But father, I don't like playing with him. He always has to win and if he doesn't, he's mean and will ignore me for the rest of the day."

"I know Belle, but he lost both of his parents. He's just trying to control what he can. You can be nice for a night, can't you?" Maurice was trying to be sympathetic to the boy, though he understood why it was frustrating for his daughter.

The girl hung her head, as if ashamed. She had lost her mother, but at least she still had her father. She couldn't imagine life without either of them. "Okay. I can be nice, but that doesn't mean I'm going to let him win."

The rain suddenly stopped, and the clouds parted, allowing for the bright moonlight to rain down. "Well, look at that Belle. Maybe we won't be late for the party after all."

With that, they headed off towards the castle, with no idea what was in store for them. When they arrived, they were confused to see that there didn't seem to be anyone else there. Just the typical servants. Maurice took the horse to the stables while Belle dried off. After that, they made their way to the front doors of the castle. No one was there to greet them.

"How odd," Maurice muttered after knocking again. This time when no one appeared, he opened the door for himself. "Potts? Are you there? Cogsworth?" the man's voice verberated throughout the empty hallways, reaching for the ears of the servants he was closest with. No one answered. "Belle, maybe you should wait here."

"No, I want to come with you. It's scary here," Belle said in a soft voice as she grabbed her father's hand.

"LEAVE," suddenly a booming voice filled the entire castle, but it sounded young. Belle's ears perked up. It sounded almost like Adam. "I said LEAVE!"

"Adam, what are you doing?" she huffed, letting go of her father's arm to walk towards his voice. "We were barely late at all. There's no reason to talk to us like that."

"Belle," Maurice reached for her, but she had already begun to run off, his heart pounding in his chest as his blood felt like it was turning to ice.

"Leave peasant," the voice, somewhat like Adam's but somewhat different, came again.

"Why are you being so rude? I came all the way here, in the rain, to come to your party. The least you can do is greet me properly," Belle called back, stopping at the top of a set of stairs and looking around. Where was he?

Finally, Maurice caught up with Belle, huffing and puffing as he did. "Belle, please, I think we should leave. Prince Adam clearly does not want our company at the moment."

"No! He's being rude," the girl insisted, darting off towards the library, where she knew Adam often spent time.

The large doors were partially open, and she saw a flickering flame inside. That gave her the courage to finish pushing one of the doors open. Inside the library was a small, furry beast of a boy. Unable to keep it inside, a scream ripped from Belle's throat. She stumbled back, and the beast covered his ears, shrinking into himself.

"I told you to leave," the beast whispered with a cracking voice.

Belle stopped just as she turned to run. She recognized that voice. Even as her father was screaming her name, she turned back to look at the puddle of fur and self pity on the floor. "Adam?"

"You really should use my proper title," the beast muttered, pulling his tattered cape tighter around him.

"Are you okay?" Belle asked in a soft voice, cautiously walking over to him.

That was all it took for the boy to break out in tears, grabbing at his ears. "No! How could I be? Look at me? I'm a monster. A beast."

Belle sat beside him, twiddling her thumbs. Adam didn't make any move to get up, or to seek comfort with his only friend. Finally, Maurice made his way into the library. He ran towards his daughter, ready to strike the creature she was sitting beside, even as she shouted protests. However, when the small beast looked up at him, he faltered. He knew those eyes.

"Prince Adam?" he asked, stumbling to a halt.

The boy nodded, now extending and retracting his claws. "Can... can you get Mrs. Potts? She's in the kitchen, and I can't see her right now."

Maurice nodded dumbly, still staring. "Alright my boy, but after that, you'll tell me what's going on here."

"Okay," Adam whispered, plopping his head back on the rug in front of the fireplace.

[technically-a-kiwi]

Universally pathetic part 2 (🌌true cosmic AU🌌)

Previous part

The chef's quest was almost over

After traveling throughout 100 234 998 universes, he was more than sure Maurice is the being who's always the same in every universe, observing oh so many versions of his brother, the chef didn't bother to read into all of his brother's versions heart, it didn't make much sense he thought... But at least the host couldn't say anything like "yeah but maybe you missed something by simply reading his mind woag " or something to that extent... It was a slower but safer move.

Some of them had a job, some lived alone, some were anthropomorphic fishes...

So far, each and every single Maurice met the chef's expectations, being a pathetic jerk. The chef even made a mental checklist, with the fundamental traits he saw in his brother:

always unsatisfied with what he has

always rude towards others

huge gamble addict

Maurice will NEVER consider becoming a better person

And there it was, the 100 234 999th universe, can’t wait to put the host in his place thought the chef.

Finally reaching the earth, looking for his last task...

"There !" The chef exclaims, spotting the location of his brother's house.

"Hum, looks like this appearance is-a one of the most common of them all... That's-a nice I guess..." He says as he inspects his brother while he's asleep.

BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP

Maurice's alarm went off, waking him up "huuuh... God... Damn it..." He punchs his alarm, shutting it down.

" Hum-um, alarm goes off at-a 5:10, punching it to shut it-a down, so far that's exactly how every other one behaved"

Maurice gets up, dresses up and goes straight to work...

" So far so good, not-a taking a breakfast and forgetting-a to lock the door, exactly as intended " says the chef, writing that down.

As he walked, Maurice sunk into his thoughts... " Stupid schedule... Stupid job... Stupid legs that can't take me further than a meter before hurting... "

Ah-AH ! About time he showed this side of himself, the never grateful grumpy man! The chef's expression shifted into a mischievous grin... The pieces were coming together, he just knew he's right, he just knows his brother universal nature.

The day continued, Maurice finally reached the trash factory, the chef following him close behind.

And so Maurice started his work, sorting recyclable material from garbage bags. " How can people be so dumb... Even if you write down on the packaging it's recyclable they'll still throw it in the garbage... It's as if everyone's blind..." He thought as he sighs out of boredom.

"Hum... Can't really count-a that as-a rude..." Though the chef

One of his co-workers addresses him " Hey Mauricino ! You got some coins by any chance? I need to buy my lunch and lost my wallet!"

" Do I look like an ATM machine to you ?" He says in a frown

" huh..."

" Leave me alone, there are better things to spend my money on, and you're not one of them" he turns back into his work

His co-worker goes away "wow... Rude..." He says flabbergasted

The chef is delighted " Rude towards others, I knew it ! Get-a ready to taste defeat-a Noise" another trait checked on the list. The chef shines bright colors as he imagines the host face when he'll shred his point into pieces.

The day went on... Untill 10pm Maurice was at work... Finally it's over, he gets to the exit and takes his check. 50 bucks... Truly a pathetic salary he thought, but that's the best he could find close to his home that hires people with no diploma...

Maurice went on his way home, the chef still following him close behind.

Suddenly, he passes by a small casino, he hesitates for some time, he just wants to go home... But... Maybe this time... He'll hit the Jackpot... He finally succumbs to the temptation. To the chef's delight, another thing off the checklist! Victory has never been so close!

GATCHING GATCHING GATCHING

nothing...

GATCHING GATCHING GATCHING

nothing...

GATCHING GATCHING GATCHING

10 dollars

GATCHING GATCHING GATCHING

nothing...

GATCHING GATCHING GATCHING

nothing...

GATCHING GATCHING GATCHING

still nothing...

Maurice wasted all his paycheck... Again...

After some time, Maurice came back home.

It was past midnight, he ate a plate of undercooked spaghetti and went to bed.

" sucks at cooking and-a goes to bed without-a brushing his teeth... And... Oh... OH MIO DIO THAT'S IT !" The chef exclaims as he realizes his quest is finally done, he busts out in colors and stars in joy ! Warping space time around him as he celebrates his victory!

The distortion was strong enough to tangle his presence with reality, making him visible to the mortal eye and making his voice audible.

His celebration suddenly woke Maurice up, screaming in shock as he looks at what he thinks is a ghost

" WHAT THE- WHO ARE YOU, WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN MY ROOM ?!"

The chef stops his celebration, his colors going dull, he didn't notice he was visible, he slowly turns, harboring a shocked face

"huuuuuuh..."

Maurice is completely paralyzed, this... Being... Didn't look real at all... A bright colored humanoid creature ? What was in his meal, gasoline?

The chef looked stunned for a second... But, oh yes, he will rub his victory all over this pathetic jerk's face, he's expression shifts into a wicked smile

" Well, if you want-a to know, I am Peppino Spaghetti. Cosmic chef and ALSO THE GUY WHO JUST-A PROVED YOUR-A THROUGHOUT EVERY POSSIBILITIES IN EXISTENCE NOTHING-A MORE THAN A PATHETIC LITTLE SHIT !" He exclaims as he smiles mischievously at Maurice's face

" wait... Peppino... Spaghetti?" Maurice says while pondering... " Oooooh no, are you one of my weird ancestors cursing me because I didn't want to be a pizza chef ?!" Says Maurice, his shock turning into anger

The chef looks weirded out " What ? No... I'm-a not your ancestor, and I'm-a nothing like a ghost, I'm a cosmic chef ! A cosmic entity !"

" a cosmic what ?" He responds, looking somewhat confused " and what was that about me being a little shit ?!" He says very angered

" Ah, glad-a you mention it ! To make it simple, I watched your behavior and-a how you interact with the world, and turns out you behaved EXACTLY as I imagined! You are ungrateful, unkind, desperate, self destructive and MOST IMPORTANTLY you NEVER question yourself OR try to be better! "

" ... " Maurice looks shocked... He's trying to find a response, but the words can't escape his mouth

The chef feels his brother's emotions... A strong mix of anger and misery, he just wants to insult him with every curse words there is, and yet sadness prevents it from any to get away

" Huh... Sorry amico, I didn't-a mean to make-a you cry, but that's-a just the truth, I'm describing what I-a saw today!" Says the chef, wondering if he didn't went a little to hard on him...

" ... I... *Sigh* okay..." Maurice just lies down in his bed again, just hoping this weird cosmic thing leaves...

The chef looks completely weirded out... He expected a stronger reaction from his brother... It was... New...

This new behavior intrigued him more than anything... Maurice holding some kind of remorse? He's got to know more !

Something triggering the cosmic chef's curiosity?! How could that be ? Nonetheless he's willing to see the end of this story and understand what makes this universe's Maurice so special, until then...

===TO BE CONTINUED==>

[sualne]

orange and blue guys

[mxgicdave]

SHUT UP AND DRIVE

[firefl1ezz]

i just. hit s+ rank in splatoon and i never honestly thought this would happen?? am i cool now.. do i get to be a part of the s4? do i get to be watered down to my running joke all the time?

[triglycercule]

Murder trio

i actually cried seeing this in my inbox i will not lie. like actually fucking cried tears of joy /srs absolutely no words can express just how absolutely thralled i am that you drew this. i'm actually ACTUALLY so so overjoyed and flattered and so happy that someone could manage to encapsulate just how much i love the jk!trio and just how silly they are and how you put your own spin on this and made them just as cute and silly and amazing as i've always wanted to see I'M ACTUALLY CRYING THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR DRAWING THE JK!MTT 😭😭😭

im so sorry for the late answer i have literally had no time to draw but TYSM FOR THIS I DREW MORE JK AU 4 YOU TO THANK YOU❤️❤️💜💜💙💙 ‼️‼️

they just got out of an extreme gaming session at the boardwalk arcade and now the suns setting and killer wants to get ice cream before it sets so they can watch the sunset but as usual she's a bit too excited for horror and dust to keep up and dust is absolutely dying (she gets ZERO excercise and killer is FAST) and horror just wants to take her time and also spare dust from killer's wrathful running speed. its ok though they manage to eat the icecream while watching the sunset even while slowed down (the vibes in this one are immaculate this is what jk fashion au stands for. silly fluffy important friendship bonding memories. i love. it's not full effort because i wanted to get this done quickly so i wouldnt respond late but im UNFORTUNATELY busy and now its been a day,,,,, I STILL LOVE THE ART YOU SENT ME THANM YKJ SO MUCH)

[poisonouspastels]

I need to talk about Minecraft AU for a sec and how the difference between our world and their world makes for some of the most humorous but also interesting differences in how people act about certain subjects.

Like the trans thing right. Steve and Rana are both trans I've talked about that before. And neither of them are on hormone replacement or anything (there is an in universe explanation as to why Steve has a beard though I promise I can talk about that if anyone wants) but like that's fine bc it literally Doesn't Matter to them or anyone else. Like as spawned players they already don't have any pre-existing gender roles or ideas of what something "should" be so gender and presentation is what they make of it and there's no real solid idea in anyone's mind about how a "boy" or "girl" behaves or looks like. These are labels that exist but they barely mean anything. It also helps that any preexisting culture that WOULD have ideas of this was almost entirely destroyed like 5000 years ago (thanks Groda) so it matters even less than it already did.

And its funny bc the only two people alive from that era, White Eyes and Groda also just don't care. Groda maybe asks why Rana's voice sounds deeper once and nearly gets torn apart by Alex bc of it (Rana isn't offended or anything she just has a defensive girlfriend), bc she doesn't really understand because she never experienced anything like this first hand but very quickly comes to understand it and accept it. And on the other hand White Eyes is just like "I've seen weirder things than this" which yeah. Yeah honestly I think the person who was previously one with the undead would not care about gender in the grand scheme of things.

And then u have Kai which I've joked before that they may as well have been spawned in nonbinary. They rlly just said "I'm not really anything" and everyone was like yeah makes sense I vibe with it. Good for u.

Steve and Rana are both fairly open about having been the opposite genders previously (because that's how they view their experiences and that's valid!) and don't really shy away from the subject but also never really have much reason to talk about it since there's rarely a need to. In the modern day pretty much everyone who met them had met them post-transition. Even Alex had met them just before Steve started growing in his beard. The only people who ever knew them as Adam and Eve were Efe and Sunny but they never really thought it was weird or anything. Like the weirdest part to them was Steve saying he got his epiphany from seeing some guy in the distance on a foggy day who looked vaguely like him but that's its own subject manner that they aren't going to pry on.

Also Steve did DIY top "surgery" previously with a sword but we aren't going to talk about how messy that was for everyone involved.

[good-beanswrites]

That LCSYS and OoA crossover got me wondering about Fuuta.

How does he feel about being in Mahiru's place and Amane being in his place? How does he act around them?

How does he act during his interrogation?

Poor guy isn't cut out for this role, but he's doing his best! I had some format fun with this one -- I took your OoA chapter of his interrogation and put Fuuta's LCSyS thoughts in between, I think it worked out well! I discovered some new things about Fuuta's mindset in the au through the process of writing, it was really interesing :0

(Trigger warnings for suicidal thoughts, including a brief mention of Haruka's situation. There's also something about Fuuta repeatedly stopping Es from getting Shidou.)

Fuuta heard Es' footsteps approaching. He took a measured breath. In and out. His exhale trembled a bit from nerves. He figured he could use that to his advantage.

Es entered the cell and took in the layout. Fuuta was propped up in a hospital bed, his neck and torso securely braced and his left arm in a sling. He was kneading a Jackalope stress toy with his right hand, digging his nails into it. More stress toys stood on the table to his right, and Es almost tripped on one a few feet ahead. As Fuuta saw Es approaching, he dropped what he was holding and swatted the rest out of his reach.

"Been a… while, Warden," Fuuta said. Es was expecting more malice in his tone, but he sounded like his life force was draining.

Fuuta hadn't liked the idea of playing the damsel in distress. He wasn't some sickly bedridden patient with a quivering voice and trembling limbs. Thankfully, Mahiru and Mikoto had talked him into taking a different angle: some of their favorite books and movies featured a battle-weary hero, weak from the fight and scorning the cowards that didn't fight alongside him. That seemed doable, he thought. He put an extra pant into his breath, hoping to evoke the thought of messy wounds from his brawl with Kotoko.

"Fuuta… you…" They pulled a chair to the side of the table and took a seat. "Are you okay?"

That's their opening? What kind of fucking question is that?

He kept Mahiru's pointers in his head, picturing a bloodied and bandaged knight, or maybe an action hero resting up after getting riddled with bullets. He forced his voice to come out more tired than he felt.

"…look like it?" Fuuta responded. If he was angry, his voice did a terrible job of showing it.

Es didn't know how to respond. Do I look like it? was obviously a rhetorical question, but they needed to show some tact.

After a moment, Fuuta spoke up again. "…look awful… don't I?"

Still unsure of what to say, Es nodded slightly.

Heh. Good. Time to twist the knife a bit. Play the confident card, make them feel guilty. They'll see how strong I am -- how strong I've always been -- and what a mistake it was to let me fall so far.

"Could've been worse. Could've died."

Es stared down, pondering their next words. Several seconds passed.

Fuuta watched them. He felt a sinking in his stomach. Their sullen silence wasn't what he'd been anticipating. He wouldn't have been satisfied with a lot of possible responses, but he'd still been expecting something. Where was their respect? Their remorse? Their pity? Anything? He reached his arm out.

A loud knock on the table got their attention.

"Oi… talking to you." Fuuta's irritated glare met Es as they lifted their head.

"I'm sorry," they said, "I'm… I'm not sure what I can say."

"Don't know what to say? I almost died because of… you don't know… Even so, it's a miracle I … If Shidou had taken any longer, would've been over for me. Don't blame him, though.

I think I've said too much -- Shidou said only a few sentences at a time...

It was impossible to keep it short, though. Es just told him that they have nothing to say in defense of his near-death. Did he really mean so little to Es that they wouldn't even dignify him with an explanation?

"…Oi, say something."

"Sor-"

"Sorry won't cut it." Fuuta sounded more pained than angry.

That was easier to accomplish now that he was actually feeling some pain. After everything, all Es had to say was a half-hearted "sorry."

So, they really don't care about me...

Es took a breath. "…Kotoko did this to you?"

Well then, I guess I'll just have to make them care.

"No sh… agh…" Fuuta gasped for air.

"Fuuta!" Es got up and walked to his side. "I'll go get Shidou-"

"Don't!" Fuuta's eyes betrayed his desperation.

Only when my pain is thrown directly in my face do they give a damn. And they were going running off to Shidou, anyway! Though maybe...

After they locked eyes for a few moments, Fuuta let out a chuckle. "Look … you … down on me, like always. Must be so happy to see…"

"I- no, I'm not. I didn't mean for this to happen. I didn't think Kotoko would-"

"Beat me to near-death? What'd you expect … you affirmed her…"

"I…"

"…thought she wouldn’t have … same crime here in…"

It seemed Es was finally listening, finally trying to open themself to him. And all of the sudden, Fuuta hated it. He felt paranoid under their gaze. He wasn't sure if it was fear of them seeing through his false injuries, or fear of another judgement from them. Regardless, he felt his pulse race with the way they were watching him.

"Oi, quit standing… staring…"

"I’m sorry, I didn't think-"

"Useless… apology…"

But what else could Es do besides apologize? Stand their ground and contradict Fuuta while he was in that pitiful state?

Fuuta was tired of their weak apologies. If Es had the conviction to name him guilty, they should toughen up and admit it.

With a deep breath, Fuuta forced himself to stay slumped into the bedsheets. He was getting riled up, but couldn't afford to look to strong.

"Really didn't think it'd… turn out… Me too. All I did… call some bad person out… say what's wrong was wrong…"

Es' gaze had become intense again. Those eyes, staring into his. Studying his injuries. Studying his expression.

Staring.

Staring.

Staring.

"Their reasons were b-" Fuuta gasped and clutched his chest. Es began to turn towards the door, but Fuuta grabbed their cape with his right hand.

Why can't they just offer help themself? Why do they go running off to someone else at the first sign of trouble? Am I really so disliked they can't face me?

Es swatted his hand away. "Hey, you can't just grab me like that."

"Don't dare…"

"Fine, I won't get Shidou. Yet." Es stood in place and waited for Fuuta to regain his voice.

Fuuta pretended to catch his breath, using the time to muster up something to say. If he wasn't so insistent on Es taking some responsibility for themself, he'd consider letting them call Shidou and just end this whole interrogation. He was ready to jump up and start swinging.

He itched to leap out of bed and give Es a real piece of his mind. He repeated the others' advice and pleading for him to keep his temper in check for the sake of the experiment. He thought of Amane -- how eagerly she awaited her own interrogation. All of this had been her plan, after all. As miserable as he was, he wouldn't ruin everything before she got her turn.

No, I will not steal her trial.

"You judged me… said I was unforgivable… without the whole story… How's that any different?"

"Excuse me?"

"That's so hypo- khh!" Fuuta slammed his hand on the table, trying to play it off as an emphasis, but that didn't mask his pain.

"Careful, Fuuta! You'll hurt-" Es gave up on that concern when Fuuta glared.

Pssh, like they actually care.

"Someone died because of you. You're saying I'm the same?"

"I didn't think they'd die!"

"But you knew people would dogpile them."

"I wasn't acting alone. Anyone else… out of my control… Why'd you pick me…"

"Milgram has judged-"

"Milgram doesn't make any f-"

Maybe Es should have put their foot down and called Shidou regardless of Fuuta's wishes. But something compelled them to hear him out. "Don't push yourself."

He tried to gauge if they were being sincere. He wasn't sure if he only mistook it as genuine concern since he was hoping for that so very badly.

Fuuta was clearly annoyed, but he took a breath and continued. "Still don't see it? We're just the same!"

"Me? The same as you?" Es couldn't deny Fuuta's point. They both made their judgments without thinking that someone could be seriously hurt—or dead.

That's got their mind turning, huh? I've got 'em now -- even if they don't feel like taking responsibility for my condition, I can subtly get them to take responsibilty for anothers'.

Fuuta was not known for his subtlety.

"I'll tell you. They were just in middle school. Maybe closer to Amane… than you…"

"Amane…" Es already knew this from what they gleaned from Fuuta's first video, but it didn't register how close in age their victims were. Wait, why were they thinking of Amane as a victim? "Amane… huh… I noticed you two have been spending a lot of time together lately."

"You kidding? Don't change the subject... You don't talk about her like… Only one who cared before everything went to hell. You made her go through it. Decided she wasn't forgivable… painted a target… She could've died too! Then we'd be exactly…"

"Don't put me on the same level as you."

He took another moment to calm himself. His "broken" arm clenched into a fish underneath the blankets. It made sense that Es wouldn't want to talk about the other prisoners during his interrogation, but their avoidance of Amane made his blood boil.

"Are you not-"

"I'm just doing my job. Nobody told you to go online and decide who are bad people and harass them. You made a game out of judgment. This is what I'm supposed to do."

Fuuta laughed at Es for still failing to acknowledge their similarities. Then he winced in pain. Then he kept laughing and mocking Es for taking their job seriously.

It was difficult to keep up the act the whole time, but he was always quick to recover each time he slipped up. He was doing this for the others. All hope for himself was lost, but at least he could do this for the others.

Es snapped back. A pointless, cyclical conversation. Fuuta stopped Es from calling Shidou no less than three times.

If he had to sit here and suffer through this interrogation, so did Es.

Eventually, the bell brought the conversation to a halt.

Silence.

Why was Fuuta so quiet?

"Hey… Fuuta?" Es leaned over to get a better look at his face. His eyes seemed glassy, and he seemed to be breathing more slowly. "Fuuta… I'll go get-"

"Don't. Not worth…"

"Worth what?"

"If you're not going to… forgive… what's the point… living?"

Fuuta would just chalk it up to getting too in-character, when the others asked.

"Don't say-"

"Everything hurts so much."

This feeling of betrayal. Of loneliness. The fact that I was the first named unforgiven. The fact that I'd be the first attacked, making me the victim -- not a hero, nor a warrior. The fact that you knew all along. You knew I was none of those things. You saw right through my act, to the real me, the one who is a victim. And that's why you acted the way that you did. You're trying to do your job without hurting me any more, as if I'm something fragile to be handled carefully. And that hurts most of all.

To keep things on track, he added,

"Painkillers don't help… Strange wonder I survived. Is it really worth it?"

"Worth it…" What could Es even say about that? Anything they could think of was either more unwanted pity or…

A cold accusation that Fuuta was bargaining his life for forgiveness. Es's thoughts flitted back to Haruka's interrogation- no, that comparison was unfair. Haruka's loaded intentions were worlds away from Fuuta's resignation. How could Es dare…

"I understand… this job requires resolve…"

"Resolve? You really have resolve… just kill me. With your own two hands. Don't hide behind the rules."

Look who's talking...

"I can't do that. I can't sink to the prisoners' level. It's my job as the warden to make a fair judgement. I… I have to judge each and every one of you… no matter how much they plead, cry, or bargain… even if they are dying right in front of me."

"What is even the point? You give a damn about my life, forgive me! If not, kill me… get it over with."

The words came tumbling out. Fuuta tried not to think so hard about what he was saying. It was all in character. That was it.

For some reason, he got the sinking sensation that he'd be pulled aside later to explain himself. He wasn't sure who'd get to him first. Yuno? Shidou? Kotoko? Now that he thought about it, it would probably be Mahiru.

"Bargaining tactics won't work with me."

"Not like I care. Or… if I get out of this alive, I'll… kill… you…"

"Fine by me. If we truly are the same, then I'll have had it coming. Now, Prisoner no. 3, Fuuta, sing your sins."

Fuuta breathed a sigh of relief.

Fucking finally...

[mikhailoism]

idk why but im kinda obsessed with the fact that bobby was a figure skater and i need to talk about it more. like I need a young bathena au with famous pro figure skater bobby.

or maybe even better and more interesting, an au with retired pro figure skater bobby who finally decides to follow his family's legacy and become a firefighter... like maybe he did skating for awhile maybe retired naturally or... had a big accident that severely injured him preventing him from ever skating again, think something like his original back injury ... and healing from that he can't figure skate but maybe firefighting is still an option (idk the logistics of what kind of injury would prevent u from skating but doesn't for firefighters but I'm sure it exists idk) and he's still young too most figure skaters retire in general mid to lates 20s ish. but say this injury happens at the height of his career and it's devastating and it still does lead him down the dangerous paths of addiction... and he does rediscover firefighting and that sort of saves him in a way. and maybe eventually things follow down a similar path in canon... maybe not.. but for now it does and he's eventually in la and everything is the same except he was once a famous figure skater and that's just really interesting to me ando would add interesting layers to bobby

[afaramir]

well. this morning on my commute i accidentally dropped 500 words worth of the beginnings of The Other Scenario for denethor and thorongil (impossible unresolved sexual tension for YEARS that culminates in the One single time that they fucked that did ruin both of them a bit). its a little bit i have one chance to freely-ish acknowledge that unfortunately i have come to care about you (not exclusive from hating your guts) its a little bit anticipatory grief its a lot classic denethorongil cheeky/cunty/horny its got everything. its set directly before the siege of umbar if you know what i mean hope this helps send post

[vaugarde]

human/anthro au where asha is on some college rugby team . i dont have a point to this i just like to consider college aus sometimes