#(to emphasize he Is Not Human he just lives like one uh. just because i guess?)

[darcydarlingdabbles]

At Autumn's End ~ Part 3

RadioApple🍂Human Au/Age Gap 🍁Top!Dom!Alastor

🍂Divorced Dad!Lucifer🍁Explicit~ 9.1k

AN: Big sexy times, big feelings happening here.

🍂🍁🍃

🍁 On Ao3🍁Read for Free on Ream🍁On Tumblr 🍁

The clock on the wall ticked softly in Lucifer’s room, echoing in his head.

He couldn’t sleep. Then again. He never could. 

Normally, he would go bustle around the kitchen and make something, but, well…last night he got more sugar than he asked for. 

Ugh, that was cheesy even for him. 

Lucifer threw off the blanket and started pacing in front of the desk  and little lounge before his fire place. 

The master bedroom was huge and spacious…and empty. And he rubbed his arms and fold them across his bare chest he looked out the back window and the snow drifting down. 

Only to be interrupted only by the sudden and insistent knock at his door.

Lucifer’s parental instincts went off like a fire alarm. He quickly grabbed the fluffy robe from the end of his bed and hurried to the door. The plush fabric whispered against his skin as he wrapped it around himself, tying the belt with a practiced motion.

As he pulled the door open, the dim light from the hallway spilled into the room, framing a figure clad in red satin.

"Alastor?" Lucifer’s voice was low, a mix of surprise and admonition. "It's late."

Alastor stood there, seemingly unfazed by the hour or the situation. His red pajamas shimmered slightly in the faint light, their sheen emphasizing the confident tilt of his head and the playful glint in his eyes. 

"Yes," Alastor replied smoothly, his voice carrying a hint of mischief, "and it's cold in my room. My fireplace isn’t working."

Before Lucifer could respond, Alastor stepped forward, crossing the threshold with an easy, assured grace. The scent of cedar and something spicy—was it cinnamon?—trailed into the room with him.

 "Maybe you can show me how to operate yours," Alastor suggested, his tone both innocent and suggestive.

Lucifer watched as Alastor sauntered into the room, his red satin pajamas shining under the faint light. Bringing a palpable energy that shimmered around him.

"Alastor," Lucifer began, his voice tinged with exasperation, "you shouldn't be in here."

"Oh, why shouldn’t I?" Alastor replied, a smirk playing on his lips as he surveyed the room with casual interest.

"Because, well…” Lucifer blustered, then tightened the soft robe around himself when those hazel eyes were on him.

“I shouldn’t freeze to death because of your devastating lack of both self-esteem and self-control.”

”Uh, okay, ouch.” Lucifer blanched at the sharpness of those words. Even as those eyes softened on him.

”Tell me I’m wrong.” Alastor said it softly, and Lucifer couldn’t. He could only huff and fold his arms over his chest, and deflect. 

“Did you try asking Charlie or Vaggie for help with your fireplace?" Lucifer asked, crossing his arms over his chest, trying to maintain some semblance of authority despite the younger man’s intrusion.

Alastor chuckled softly, a sound that felt like it was filling the room like his presence. 

 "I was about to knock on their door," he said, drawing out the words like a cat playing with a mouse, "but from the sounds coming from it, I was rather reluctant to disturb them."

Lucifer cringed inwardly. 

So, going upstairs to fix Alastor’s fireplace was definitely not an option. And it was freezing enough to snow outside–no wonder he was cold.

The older man cleared his throat, searching for a solution that would steer them away from this precarious situation.

"Alright," Lucifer relented with a sigh, feeling the weight of inevitability pressing down on him. "Let's get the fireplace in the living room going. It'll warm you up just fine."

“Well…we could do that…” Alastor sauntered over to the bed.

 With a casual grace, he sat back on his hands, crossing one leg over the other. His eyes gleamed with mischief, and an impish smirk danced across his lips as he settled into the plush comforter, making a point of appearing at ease.

And that he wasn’t going anywhere. 

"But sir, the living room is so wide open," Alastor drawled, his voice smooth like honey, "anyone could walk in on us there."

Lucifer's eyebrows shot up to his hair line, before he shook his head and sighed in pure exasperation.

The weight of Alastor's presence pressed down on him like the humidity before a storm. He resisted the urge to rub his temples–needing to maintain some sort of semblance of control over this situation. Before it got right out of hand. 

"There's not going to be anything to walk in on," Lucifer countered, his tone firm yet threaded with a hint of incredulity. The pure arrogance of this young man–of this boy, compared to him. 

He stepped closer to the foot of the bed, as Alastor made a point of leaning back. Lucifer needed to ground himself to the reality of their situation.

 "Think about it for a second, Alastor. You're my daughter's friend. Hell,  I was your age when I had Charlie!" But even as he spoke, Lucifer couldn't ignore the electric charge that hummed in the air between them, a current that defied logic and expectations.

Alastor's eyebrow arched with a playful elegance, a flicker of amusement igniting in his eyes. "Well, now, Mr. Morningstar," The corners of his mouth curled upward as he tossed an offhand remark into the charged silence. "I think it’s a little early to say you want my children, isn’t it?"

Lucifer felt the heat bloom across his cheeks, seeping through his pale skin with embarrassing intensity.  The little jab cut right through his attempt at composure, and he thrust both hands through his blonde hair. 

"Can you at least stop it with the 'sir' and 'Mr. Morningstar' stuff?" he groaned, his fingers toyed absently with the belt of his robe, twisting the fabric . "I feel old enough already."

“Well,” Alastor's gaze traveled leisurely over his robe—fluffy, undeniably comfortable, yet suddenly feeling like the most inadequate armor against the intensity of those eyes. “What would you like me to call you?”

“My name, obviously.”

"Lucifer," Alastor purred, and oh, that was worse. So much worse. 

The younger man’s voice was a silken thread that curled around Lucifer's name for the first time with a tenderness that belied the teasing grin playing at his lips.

Lucifer's heart thudded traitorously against his ribs, and he swallowed hard, trying to tether himself to reason.

"Why do you have to say my name like that?" he huffed out, though he meant to be stern.

"Like what?" Alastor replied, feigning innocence with a tilt of his head, though the glint in his eyes betrayed his awareness—the calculated precision of each syllable designed to unravel Lucifer's defenses.

“Like that!” Lucifer's fingers instinctively found their way to his hair, ruffling through the golden strands in an attempt to regain some semblance of control over the situation spiraling rapidly away from him. “Like you’re going to–”

“Eat you?” The brunette smirked, his gaze only lifting a moment to take in Lucifer’s mussed hair. 

“Yes, that.”

“You rather enjoyed my mouth on you last time, did you not?” 

Lucifer was going to burn to death from embarassment. That smirking tone knew he was drawing images of last night right back into the older man’s head. He bit his bottom lip, clapping a hand over the shoulder of his robe, where it barely covered the bite mark Alastor left in his skin. 

"Listen here," Lucifer began, his voice slipping into the authoritative timbre of a father,  hoping to reestablish some boundaries, to remind them both of lines they shouldn't cross. 

But before he could continue, Alastor's soft tutting interrupted him, accompanied by a look so infuriatingly fond it made Lucifer pause.

"That was cute," Alastor said, a teasing lilt to his words.

 The comment disarmed Lucifer completely, the dad voice rendered useless against the unwavering confidence radiating from the younger man.

Lucifer's cheeks turned a shade of crimson that rivaled the deepest embers of Hell. His mind raced, scrambling for some semblance of composure as he opened his mouth to retort, perhaps to regain control or at least to articulate something coherent.

But any attempt at words was swiftly stolen from him as Alastor moved with sudden intent, closing the distance between them in a heartbeat. The  blonde’s back hit the door that he’d been holding open, only to have Alastor’s hand press above his head. Forcing it to click it closed. 

The younger man's hand reached up, grasping the front of Lucifer's robe with a possessive confidence that sent a shiver down his spine. And he cursed himself that he was tilting his chin up, hoping for a kiss. 

"Lucifer..." Alastor's voice purred and curled between them, that same silken tone lingering on each syllable with deliberate slowness that made him hang on it. "Where do you keep the lube?."

The words hung there, bold and unashamedly self-assured, wrapping around Lucifer like a lasso tightening at his very core. His heart skipped a beat, shock rippling through him anew as he blinked, trying to process the audacity—the sheer ease with which Alastor navigated this intimate terrain.

“How dare–you–we won’t–”

And then, without hesitation, Alastor kissed him—hard and unyielding, a force of nature that demanded nothing less than complete surrender.

Any protests that Lucifer might have conjured melted away under the heat of that kiss, lost amidst the fiery collision of lips that left him breathless. All thoughts dissipated like smoke on the wind, leaving only the raw sensation of urgency thrumming through his veins.

Alastor pulled back from his lips, and Lucifer felt himself whine. Until the younger’s forehead pressed against his. Overwhelming him with his cinnamon scent. 

“If you want me to stop.” The brunette panted, and Lucifer thrilled that he could leave him breathless. “You need to tell me. Now.”

Lucifer couldn’t help the pathetic little sound that escaped him at even the idea of stopping now. Alastor wasn’t even holding his wrists, but his hands felt pinned to the wall behind him. He lifted his head, hopeful for another kiss. 

That Alastor denied him. 

“Darling.” Alastor purred, his tone on the edge of impatience. “Use your words.”

Lucifer swallowed. The last of his reservations falling into the dark like the snow outside. 

“Green.”

“Good boy.”

Then Alastor was kissing him. And it felt like Lucifer could breathe again. Until those long fingers wrapped around the bulge in his lounge pants. 

Lucifer let out a moan that Alastor swallowed as he kissed him, deeper, demanding entrance. Tasting every inch of him. 

But those clever fingers were relentless, their touch both deft and deliberate as they found the waistband of Lucifer's sweats. In one smooth motion, they pushed the material down, gravity taking hold as it pooled around Lucifer's ankles.

Damn those clever hands, Lucifer thought dimly, even as his own body responded with a traitorous eagerness.

A part of him marveling at how easily the younger man unraveled him piece by piece, yet another part surrendering to the undeniable allure of it all.

Alastor's fingers hovered at the tie of Lucifer's robe, a pause in the fervent dance that had consumed them both. And, Lucifer could guess why.

Because he’d been reluctant to remove his shirt around the younger man all weekend. And it struck him that not only had the brunette noticed–he actually cared if Lucifer was comfortable.  The weight of Alastor’s gaze was almost tangible as he subtly pulled back, his eyes searching Lucifer’s face with an inquisitive glint.

"Perhaps," Alastor murmured, brushing a soft kiss against Lucifer's lips—gentle, teasing, "you ought to change into another sweater, hm?"

Lucifer hesitated, the suggestion bumping awkwardly against his rising need. He whined, a sound that escaped him unbidden, raw and vulnerable. "I don’t want to," he confessed, voice low and rough.

The flicker of amusement in Alastor's eyes was unmistakable, but his smile held a warmth that chased away any notion of mockery. 

"Then what do you want?" Alastor prompted, voice smooth and inviting as velvet.

"For you...to bite me," Lucifer admitted, the words tumbling out like a floodgate giving way, "to be marked…and claimed." His admission hung in the air between them, charged and electric.

"Gladly," Alastor purred, his voice a dark promise.

 With deft fingers, he untied the robe and left Lucifer breathless and bare to the night, exposed.

The cool air caressed his skin, a stark contrast to the heat blooming under Alastor's gaze—a silent vow to fulfill every unspoken want. 

Alastor's fingers grazed Lucifer's skin with a touch that was both feather-light and searing. The contact sent a shiver racing down his spine, igniting a fire in his veins that had lain dormant for too long. 

Doubt, though, nibbled at the back of Lucifer’s mind. Why would this gorgeous young man ever want him? 

Alastor’s next words silenced every thought.

"Every inch," he purred, his voice a sultry promise that seemed to resonate through the room. "I can't wait to mark every inch of you."

With a gentle but insistent push, Alastor guided Lucifer onto the bed.

Lucifer fell onto the yielding mattress without complaint, lifting his head to the claiming kiss. His skin already tingling at the thought of more. 

Alastor’s lips trailed down the column of his throat, dragging the edge of his teeth–but leaving no marks above his collarbones. As he promised. 

"Ah!" Lucifer gasped, his voice catching in his throat as Alastor sank his teeth back into the older man’s shoulder. Not the same place because that would distort the pretty purple that bloomed overnight. 

But leaving a brand new bite to criss-cross it. Like there was a design written in his head. Alastor's lips descended upon him, tracing a path of bites along his torso, each one a deliberate claim that set Lucifer alight with sensation.

Alastor growled with delight at the marks he was leaving—little trophies of his conquest.

The sharp nip of teeth followed by the soothing brush of Alastor's tongue sent waves of pleasure coursing through him. Each bite was a declaration, a testament to Alastor's desire that left no room for doubt. 

Lucifer arched beneath the attention, the undeniable evidence of being wanted now decorating his body. And sinking into his very soul. 

Lucifer lay there, every nerve ending alive with anticipation as Alastor's hands roamed lower, spreading his legs with a possessive leer that went straight to Lucifer’s aching prick. 

He was fully exposed, every inch of dad bod laid bare before Alastor’s hungry stare. 

Lucifer felt his legs tremble as the younger held them open wide. And then the brunette was catching his eye. Waiting for Lucifer  to look at him. before he lowered his head, dragging his tongue along the soft flesh of the inside of his thigh.

“Color?” That predatory purr asked. 

And Lucifer had to fight the tremble of anticipation in his voice, so it wouldn’t sound like anything else. 

“Green, so green.” Lucifer squirmed. 

Alastor chuckled, pushing his legs further apart as he simply said “Good.”

The fireplace was roaring away, but Lucifer still felt a shiver of goosebumps prickle over his skin at the cool air. 

Until Alastor’s mouth set him on fire all over again.

 Each bite along his soft thighs was a spark, igniting deeper within him, and he could feel the promise of bruises blooming beneath the surface.

"Turn over," Alastor commanded as he stood, his voice a velvet spike that sent a shiver down Lucifer's spine.

Lucifer hesitated only for a heartbeat before complying, shifting over onto his stomach and his elbows. Feeling a little tingle across his skin at how exposed he was. 

"Where's the lube?" Alastor's question was more an expectation than a request, each word dripping with intent.

"Nightstand," Lucifer managed to pant out, his mind swimming in a haze that left little room for coherent thought. Just talking felt like a tether to reality, and he was ready to toss it out the picture window behind him.

Alastor moved with purpose, his footsteps a murmur on the carpet as he approached the nightstand. 

Lucifer watched him through half-lidded eyes. The anticipation was a live wire under his skin.

"What's this?" Alastor's voice broke through the haze with a teasing lilt.

He held up a cock ring, its snap glinting wickedly in the electronic fire light. There was a smirk playing on his lips–and it was clear he knew exactly what it was.

Lucifer felt a flush rise to his cheeks. His gaze flickered away for a moment before meeting Alastor’s playful stare. "It's mine," he admitted, the words tumbling out with a hint of sheepishness.

"Is it now? How fortuitous" Alastor's grin widened, a flash of white teeth against his brown skin "We'll use this too, since it's been a while for you." His tone was light, but there was an underlying challenge in it.

“Hey!” A spark of indignation flared within Lucifer at the insinuation, a feeble attempt to cling to the remnants of his dignity. “You know, I’ve probably been doing this since before you were born.”

And he actually saw Alastor roll his eyes. 

“Yes, yes darling, I’m sure.” The younger moved behind him, as Lucifer turned to try to keep him in sight. “But, you haven’t been doing it with me.” Alastor purred. Just as he seized Lucifer by the hips, dragging him down the bed and manhandling him until he was bent over the end of the bed. 

"Spread your legs," Alastor commanded, his voice dropping to a sultry murmur that danced over Lucifer's skin like a caress. The words sent a shiver racing down Lucifer's spine, igniting something primal and urgent within him.

He hesitated only long enough to draw a shaky breath, then obeyed, surrendering to the pull of Alastor's will with a thrill that made his pulse quicken anew.

🍂🍁🍃

Lucifer never would have believed that he’d end up in a position like this. 

Face down in the plush comforter of his own bed, ass up and completely exposed. As Alastor’s sure fingers languidly stretching him open. Taking his tortuous time. 

The sinfully red satin of Alastor's pajamas brushed against Lucifer’s thighs, a teasing reminder of how frustratingly clothed the younger man remained.

"You're doing so well, darling," Alastor murmured, his voice a low purr that reverberated through Lucifer's bones. 

One hand pressed firmly at the nape of Lucifer’s neck, keeping him pinned, grounded, even as each deliberate stroke of Alastor’s fingers made him writhe.

"Alastor..." Lucifer’s voice was a half-groan, half-whisper, the sound drenched in desperation. Each calculated brush of his sweet spot sent shocks of pleasure ricocheting through his body, leaving him breathless and aching for more.

"Patience," Alastor chided softly, leaning over him, a shadow cast by moonlight filtering through the window. The world outside was a blur of wintry white, but in here, heat seared through Lucifer’s veins as he surrendered inch by inch to Alastor’s deft touch.

Lucifer’s back arched instinctively, seeking more of those skilled touches, his thoughts a haze of white noise and want.

"Please," he heard himself say, the plea falling from his lips unbidden, raw and honest.

Each press of those sinfully long fingers sent him spiraling further into a space where thoughts were fleeting. And all he could do was feel.

"Lucifer," Alastor's voice was a silken caress, wrapping around his name with an intimacy that made his heart stutter.

"You're too good at this," Lucifer squirmed beneath the unyielding hold on his neck. His mind floated somewhere between reality and oblivion,  "Too old for this,"

 It was a weak protest, more habit, as if acknowledging the disparity in their ages could anchor him somehow.

"Nonsense," Alastor replied, his tone light, teasing, but leaving no room for arugment. "You’re taking my fingers so well."

The praise was like a balm, soothing some hidden ache inside Lucifer, even as it fanned the flames of his desire higher.

Alastor continued, leaning closer until his breath ghosted over Lucifer’s ear, making him shiver. "I’m sure you’ll take my cock like a good boy."

A whimper escaped Lucifer, unbidden, the sound lost in the heady cocktail of want and submission. Any semblance of control slipped further from his grasp, leaving only the raw, unfiltered need to please the man who had him laid bare in every sense of the word.

"Good boy," Alastor had said, those two simple words burrowing under Lucifer's skin, igniting something deep within him. 

But… alongside the warmth, there was a chill, creeping into the edges of his consciousness, reminding him of everything else he was.

He wasn't just old–he felt worn out. Baggage that tangled with his self-worth, dragging it down beneath the surface. Depression loomed over him like an ever-present shadow.

"Alastor," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, breaking through the haze for a moment. "You... you deserve better than this. Than me."

The confession hung heavy in the air between them. Bound up and fizzling with the insecurity and doubts that clawed at Lucifer, especially when he was at his most vulnerable. 

The sudden stillness from Alastor was like a jolt, ripping Lucifer from his spiraling thoughts, making the room feel colder, the air thicker.

"Say that again," Alastor's voice sliced through the silence, sharp, cold, and commanding. 

Before Lucifer could even process the words, a sharp thud echoed through the room—a hand coming down hard on his ass.

Lucifer gasped, the sensation ricocheting up his spine, leaving a tingling warmth in its wake. The sting on his skin was a reminder—albeit a startling one—that he was very much alive, here and now.

"Say it again, Lucifer." Alastor's tone was unwavering, firm, and beneath the surface, there was something else—something almost tender. 

His mouth opened, a protest forming on his lips, but doubt clawed at him, urging him to speak the self-deprecation that had become second nature. Another swift smack landed in the same spot. Precisely.

Lucifer flinched, the repetition sending a shiver throughout his entire being. 

The heat on his skin bloomed, and somewhere within the haze of sensation and emotion, a new awareness took root. Alastor knew exactly what he was doing—each strike calculated, deliberate.

It was a punishment. Alastor had never punished him. And it brought Lucifer sharply back to reality. 

"Again," Alastor pressed, unyielding.

Lucifer's mind spun, caught between the urge to resist and the desire to yield. His defenses wavered, the walls he'd built around himself weakening under the relentless onslaught..

Alastor flipped Lucifer over onto his back.

 The sudden shift left Lucifer momentarily breathless, a rush of vulnerability washing over him, but before fear could take root, Alastor's hand found its place at his throat.

The touch was firm but not constrictive—a gentle reminder of the power Alastor wielded, but also of the care with which he wielded it. Lucifer felt the weight of that hand like an anchor, grounding him amidst the tempest of emotions swirling within.

"Stay still," Alastor’s  voice low and smooth, as if coaxing the tension from Lucifer’s body. “And keep your eyes on me.”

 He complied, the unspoken command threading through his very veins, calming the storm swirling in his chest.

With deliberate movements, Alastor spread Lucifer's legs wide, each motion purposeful, leaving no doubt in its intention as he moved between them. A shiver of anticipation danced along Lucifer's spine, mingling with the remnants of uncertainty that clung to him. Alastor’s lithe body, pressed into the cradle of his so damn intimately it was breath taking. 

“I know what I want.” Alastor said, so softly and emphatically, Lucifer’s world narrowed down to every word on his lips. “And I have, excellent tastes.” He chuckled, lowly and dark. “And I want you. So, it only follows that you must be desirable.”

Lucifer felt his mouth open, to agree or to contradict, he didn’t know–when he felt Alastor snap his hips forward. So the older man felt the hard line of his cock through those satin pjs. Making Lucifer whine. 

"Isn't that right?" Alastor's words were soft yet unwavering, carrying a conviction that resonated. He leaned over Lucifer, their eyes locking, and in that instant, all pretense fell away.

Lucifer could see it—the certainty in Alastor's gaze, the desire that lay beneath the surface, raw and unhidden. It was a question that was not a question at all, but an affirmation.

 Alastor knew what he wanted, and more than that, he wanted Lucifer.

In the silence that followed, Lucifer felt the truth settle around him like a warm embrace. Alastor had chosen him, and in that choice, there was worth—something long elusive, now finally within reach.

“Alastor…”

Alastor’s fingers plunged back inside Lucifer, rough and unyielding. Three all at once, they filled him and stole his breath. It wasn’t uncomfortable–it was a relief–a release of tension, as if those deft fingers were unraveling the tangled knots in him.

Lucifer's body arched involuntarily, a gasp escaping his lips. Alastor moved with purpose, each thrust precise, exploring until he found that sensitive spot that made Lucifer's vision blur with pleasure.

"Isn’t that right?" Alastor repeated, his voice low, almost tender. He brushed against Lucifer's prostate, sending a jolt through his spine, a reminder of what was asked of him.

"Yes, Alastor..." Lucifer breathed, the word tumbling from him, born of instinct and need.

"Say it, darling." Alastor's voice was velvet and steel, a command wrapped in endearment. His fingers moved relentlessly, coaxing every ounce of sensation from Lucifer’s trembling form.

Lucifer whined. He couldn’t—wouldn’t—say the words that felt too big, too heavy to be true.

"Say you are worthy of being wanted." Alastor repeated, his tone unwavering as he leaned over Lucifer, the weight of his presence all-consuming.

Lucifer shook his head, a stubborn refusal even as his body betrayed him, arching into each calculated thrust. The world narrowed to the point where their gazes locked, Alastor’s eyes holding his with an intensity that burned.

"Look at me," Alastor urged, that had still firm on Lucifer’s throat.

 That touch kept him still, made him focus on nothing but those dark, intense eyes.

His cock throbbed, trapped and dined by the ring around it. It was a torment that bordered on bliss, and Alastor watched him keenly, absorbing every reaction, every flicker of emotion.

"Please," Lucifer gasped, desperation coloring his voice, not sure what he was pleading for—for release or reprieve.

"Say it," Alastor insisted, his fingers never faltering, the rhythm a relentless reminder of his demand.

Lucifer’s resolve wavered under the pressure of Alastor’s unyielding attention, under the promise lingering in the air—that here, in this space, he could be wanted, cherished even, if he just admitted it.

"You may be older," he murmured, his breath a warm whisper against Lucifer's skin, "but I assure you, I can wait you out. As long as it takes."

Lucifer's eyes fluttered shut for a moment, overwhelmed by the certainty in Alastor's tone.

 There was no doubt, no hesitation. Just the unshakeable conviction that patience was infinite, and that Lucifer was worth every second spent waiting.

And there was as nothing quite like having alastor’s full attention on him.

Lucifer’s hands had stayed pinned to the bed, his fingers clenched in the sheets, without having to be bound or held down. 

Alastor’s unwavering gaze grounded him there.

Every fiber of his being urged him to move, to reach out, to defy this feeling of vulnerability. But, he couldn’t. Because he didn’t want to. 

"Lucifer…" Alastor’s voice was a velvet whisper, wrapping around him with an intimacy that felt like a caress. Lucifer's breath caught in his throat, his heart pounding a frantic rhythm against the cage of his ribs.

"I…" he began, his voice barely above a whisper, cracking under the weight of vulnerability. His mind spun, words lodged at the back of his throat like stones he couldn’t dislodge. All the while, Alastor's fingers moved inside him—patient, relentless, drawing him closer and closer to the precipice.

"The full sentence, darling," Alastor prompted tenderly, the words sliding over Lucifer’s skin like silk, teasing and coaxing—but never demanding. It was maddeningly tender.

This wasn’t just lust. It wasn’t enjoying playing with a partner during a scene. Alastor was taking Lucifer apart just to put him back together again.

And, after that, how could Lucifer ever let him go?

"I want to hear you say it," Alastor continued, his tone as smooth as molten honey. 

Lucifer inhaled shakily, his chest tight with the tumult. With each breath, he could feel the embers of trust and warmth expanding, threatening to engulf the shadows of doubt and insecurity that clung so stubbornly to him.

And then, finally, the words tumbled out, each syllable a hard-won victory against the specter of self-doubt. "I am…worthy…of being wanted."

Alastor's eyes lit up with approval, a smile curving his lips as he leaned forward to press a gentle kiss to Lucifer’s temple.

"Good boy," Alastor murmured, his voice rich with praise and promise.

With a deftness that belied the magnitude of the moment, he reached down and released the cock ring, freeing Lucifer from its constraining hold.

In that instant, euphoria crashed over Lucifer with the force of a tidal wave, leaving him quivering beneath Alastor’s unwavering affection.

🍂🍁🍃

Waves of blissful pleasure coursed through Lucifer's body, leaving him trembling and breathless. Alastor's skilled hands continued to caress him gently, easing him through the aftershocks.

"You did so well for me," Alastor murmured, his voice a soothing balm.

Lucifer's eyes fluttered open, meeting Alastor's intense gaze. "Thank you," he whispered, his voice hoarse. And he was so blissed out, he didn’t even blush at his awkwardness.

Alastor's fingers traced delicate patterns across Lucifer's flushed skin. The tender touch felt like everything to him, and when he meekly tugged on those satin pajamas, the brunette indulged him and moved to sit on the bed.

Lucifer was about ready to curl right up into his lap. Soak up this newfound attentiveness like a house cat in the afternoon sunshine.

His cheek came to rest on the red fabric that covered Alastor’s thigh, clinging to the slender frame.

"How are you feeling?" Alastor asked softly, brushing a stray lock of hair from Lucifer's forehead.

Lucifer leaned into the touch, savoring the warmth of Alastor's palm against his cheek. "Incredible," he murmured, and it was true. He was floating on a satin cloud. Not even thinking of what usually came next.

A small smile tugged at Alastor's lips. "I'm glad you enjoyed yourself, cher."

Lucifer's head felt pleasantly fuzzy, his thoughts hazy and unfocused. He found himself overcome with affection for the man above him. Without thinking, he nuzzled against Alastor's crotch, relishing the smooth texture of against his cheek.

"Thank you for taking such good care of me," Lucifer said softly, his words slightly slurred.

Alastor's hand came to rest on the back of Lucifer's neck, a comforting weight that also stilled his movements.

"It’s been my pleasure," he replied, his voice warm with fondness.

Right, Lucifer was starting to get a bit more lucid, and remember…Alastor’s pleasure…he really should—

Lucifer's blissful haze was abruptly shattered as he felt Alastor's hands gently cradle his head, lifting it from the satin-clad thigh.

With careful movements, Alastor lowered Lucifer's head to rest on the soft bedding. Before Lucifer could fully process what was happening, Alastor had slipped away, rising to his feet beside the bed.

Panic surged through Lucifer's chest. "Wait!" His voice was hoarse, tinged with desperation. "You're not going to leave again, are you?"

Lucifer's eyes darted down, immediately noticing the obvious bulge straining against Alastor's sleek pants.

“Or…let me help you out…?”

But Alastor merely shrugged, a small, enigmatic smile playing at the corners of his mouth. But his night clothes caught the light from the snowy window, which was probably the only reason the blonde’s fuzzy head noticed how the younger seemed to shift from foot to foot.

"That's not necessary, Lucifer," he said, his voice low and smooth. "I told you. Orgasm isn't really my goal."

Lucifer furrowed his brow, confusion mingling with concern. "But…I want to make you feel good too," he insisted, pushing himself up onto his elbows.

Alastor's expression softened. He reached out, gently caressing Lucifer's cheek. "You were so good for me," he murmured. “That's all I need.”

Lucifer leaned into the touch, torn between the warmth of Alastor's praise and his own lingering desire to reciprocate.

The blonde felt his tongue dart out, wetting his dry lips. "Don’t you want to stay—and fuck me, I mean?"

Despite Alastor's reassurances, a nagging desire still gnawed at him. His voice came out weak, almost pleading,

Alastor's long fingers threaded through Lucifer's hair, the gentle touch at odds with the intensity of his gaze. His eyes roamed deliberately down Lucifer's body, lingering pointedly on the evidence of their recent activities.

Lucifer followed his line of sight, suddenly acutely aware of his own spent cock, still flushed and sensitive, and the cooling streaks of come decorating the constellation of bite marks Alastor had left across his belly.

A rush of heat flooded Lucifer's cheeks as he realized the implication.

He was thoroughly spent, but here he was, practically begging for more.

"But I still want you to fuck me," Lucifer insisted, his voice barely above a whisper.

Alastor cocked an eyebrow, a mix of amusement and intrigue playing across his features.

Without a word, he moved to sit on the edge of the bed. Lucifer's body reacted instinctively, reaching out to clutch at Alastor, desperate to keep him close. But Alastor was quicker, catching Lucifer's wrists in a firm but gentle grip.

His thumbs traced small circles on the sensitive skin, a gesture both soothing and electrifying.

Lucifer's breath caught in his throat as Alastor leaned in, his lips barely grazing Lucifer's ear.

"Tell me, Lucifer," Alastor whispered, his breath warm against Lucifer's skin. "Do you truly want to be fucked, or is it that you simply do not want to be left alone?"

The question stripped away his defenses. Cutting right to the quick, as the younger said he did.Why did Alastor always seem to see right through him?

"Both," Lucifer admitted, his voice trembling slightly. He met Alastor's gaze, determined to be honest. "I want you to fuck me, Alastor. And…I want you to stay the night."

A flicker of something—surprise? approval? longing?—passed over Alastor's face. He released Lucifer's wrists and shifted, settling more comfortably on the bed.

“I assure you, I was hoping to stay.” Though a little bit of mirth lit his face, and his eyes traveled over Lucifer once again. “After I cleaned you up a bit.”

Relief and desire surged through Lucifer in equal measure.

He pressed close, intent on kissing Alastor, on showing his gratitude and renewed passion. But before their lips could meet, Alastor placed a finger against Lucifer's mouth, halting him.

"Careful now," Alastor warned, his tone light but firm. "This is my favorite set of sleepwear. I'd rather not get it…sticky."

Lucifer froze, suddenly hyper-aware of his own state—the drying come and blooming bruises over his pale flesh.

Lucifer's cheeks burned as he remembered Alastor's rules.

“It wouldn’t, I mean.” He huffed, rubbing a hand through his hair to try to ground himself. And not sound as petulant as he felt. Like a child repeatedly denied a treat. “They wouldn’t get messy, if you took them off.”

He swore the chuckle Alastor gave was indulgent. “Will you want to touch me, then?”

Lucifer’s attention snapped back to Alastor, nodding eagerly. “Touch you, blow you—anything you want, Alastor. Please.”

“And, there in, lies the rub.” The brunette murmured, and Lucifer mourned the movement he took to get back on his feet at the edge of the bed. But not the way the way he crawled after Alastor.

“You don’t want me to touch you?” Lucifer asked, his tone light with curiosity that tilted his head as he looked up at the younger man. Wondering if this was what had him pulling away the two times before.

“Oh, no, darling,” Alastor met his eyes, with that intense hazel look. “I very much do.”

Lucifer was about to offer everything, anything Alastor wanted, when the brunette surprised him by being the first to pull his eye away.

“You make me greedy, Lucifer. I want everything you’ll let me have. I want nothing to be left for anyone else…But,” Alastor folded his arms over his chest, looking defensive and utterly unlike his ever-confident self. “I can’t always…" he said softly. "It's not…easy for me to finish."

Lucifer's first instinct was to smirk, sure Alastor was teasing or challenging him.

But as he searched the younger man's face, he caught a glimpse of something he'd never seen before: embarrassment. The vulnerability in Alastor's expression made Lucifer's heart clench.

The blonde quickly moved from his knees to give the brunette his full attention, sitting as he reached for Alastor’s hand that was clenched in the crook of his elbow. He felt resistance, for a moment, before the younger gave in to the hold.

"Have you seen a doctor about it?" he asked gently.

Alastor's fingers tightened around Lucifer's, a flicker of something guarded in his gaze. "Yes, of course," he replied, his voice low. “They all assure me I am too young for the issue to be from the waist down.” He paused, a rueful smile tugging at his lips. “So it must be from the neck up.”

Lucifer felt his brow furrow. Concern etched all over his face. He slid onto his knees, almost bringing himself to eye level with the taller man.

“Hey, Alastor.” He reached for the younger, for that narrow waist, trying to tug him close. “Look, if you need to talk about this, we can.”

Alastor rolled his eyes. “Do you really want to chat about Catholic guilt, compartmentalization, and grief right now?” He gestured with his free hand to Lucifer’s state of undress and his own state of visible arousal. “I’ve had this problem for a while, no matter the scene or the partner.”

Lucifer's chest tightened at the mention of grief, understanding dawning. He stroked his thumb across the small of Alastor’s back, considering his next words carefully. "Do you want to continue?" he asked softly, searching Alastor's face. "We don't have to if you're not comfortable."

Alastor's expression softened, and he cupped Lucifer's cheek with his free hand. "I do want to, more than anything," he assured him. "But I know bottoms get frustrated, or even feel inadequacy, when they can't make me come. I don't want that for you, Lucifer."

The delicacy in Alastor's hand sent a shiver through Lucifer. But it was nothing compared to how damn considerate he was being. Alastor knew Lucifer’s self-esteem was weak at best. And he was trying to shield him, at his own expense.

He leaned into the caress, his heart swelling with affection for this complex, caring man.

"Thank you, for telling me. I know that couldn’t have been easy," Lucifer murmured, turning his head to press a kiss to Alastor's palm. "But I want you to know, it doesn’t have to be about making you come…I just want to be with you, to make you feel good in whatever way I can."

Alastor's eyes widened slightly at Lucifer's words, a flicker of vulnerability passing over his features before being replaced by a look of profound gratitude.

Slowly, he leaned down, cupping Lucifer's face in both hands as he brought their lips together in a tender kiss.

The kiss was unlike any they had shared before. Where their previous encounters had been marked by passion and urgency, this was slow and achingly sweet. Alastor's lips moved against Lucifer's with deliberate care, as if savoring every moment of contact.

Lucifer's hands came to rest on Alastor's hips, fingers curling into the soft fabric of his pajamas. He could feel the warmth of Alastor's skin through the thin material, grounding them both to the moment. As the rest of the world faded away. The soft glow of moonlight filtering through the window cast everything in a dreamy, ethereal light.

The only sounds were their quiet breaths and the gentle rustle of fabric as they moved together.

Their kisses deepened gradually, tongues meeting in a slow, sensual dance. There was no rush, no frantic need driving them forward.

Lucifer's hands slid up Alastor's back, feeling the lean muscles shift beneath his palms. He marveled at the contrast between Alastor's usual sharp edges and this softer, more vulnerable version of him.

He felt it, when there was a shift in Alastor. The tension that had been holding him rigid began to melt away, his body relaxing into Lucifer's touch.

His kisses became more assured, more present, as if he was fully allowing himself to be in the moment.

"Undress me," Alastor murmured, his voice low and rich with emotion. It wasn't quite an order, but there was a quiet authority in his tone that always left the older man tingling.

Lucifer nodded, slowly rising to his feet. He maintained eye contact with Alastor as he began to remove his clothes, piece by piece. There was no teasing or showmanship in the way he slid the buttons of the satin night shirt apart. Letting the fabric drop to the soft carpet of the bedroom. His pants followed.

Lucifer's breath caught in his throat as he took in the sight of Alastor.

The lean lines of his torso were accentuated by the soft moonlight streaming through the window, casting shadows that highlighted every dip and curve of slender muscle. His skin was brown and smooth, marred only by a few scattered scars that spoke of a life lived with intensity.

His collarbone stood out prominently, creating delicate hollows that Lucifer longed to trace with his tongue. Lucifer's eyes followed that tantalizing path, noting the sharp cut of Alastor's hipbones and the lean strength of his thighs.

Despite his earlier admissions, Alastor's arousal was evident, straining against the fabric of his boxers. Lucifer felt a surge of desire, wanting nothing more than to worship every inch of the beautiful man before him.

"Touch me," Alastor commanded softly, his voice low and husky.

Lucifer didn't hesitate.

He reached out, running his hands reverently over Alastor's chest, feeling the warmth of his skin and the steady beat of his heart. His fingers traced the contours of Alastor's abs, gaping at the subtle definition. He explored every plane and angle of Alastor's body, committing each detail to memory.

As his hands roamed lower, skimming along Alastor's sides and coming to rest on his hips, Lucifer felt an overwhelming urge to taste him.

He looked up, meeting Alastor's intense gaze.

"Can I blow you?" Lucifer asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "Please, I want to make you feel good."

Alastor's eyes darkened with desire. He cupped Lucifer's face gently, thumb brushing across his cheekbone.

"Yes," he breathed. "Yes, you can."

Heart racing, Lucifer settled between Alastor's legs, taking a moment to admire the man's impressive cock.

It had been a while since he'd done this, and he wanted to savor the experience. He started slow, placing soft kisses along Alastor's inner thighs, relishing the slight tremor he felt beneath his lips.

As Lucifer's mouth finally enveloped him, Alastor let out a soft gasp. "Oh, that's…lovely," he murmured, his long fingers threading gently through Lucifer's hair.

Encouraged, Lucifer began to pull out all his tricks–swirling his tongue, varying pressure and speed, using his hand in tandem with his mouth.

He glanced up occasionally, thrilling at the sight of Alastor's head tipped back in pleasure, his chest rising and falling more rapidly.

Alastor's quiet sounds of enjoyment spurred Lucifer on. He redoubled his efforts, determined to bring the younger man to climax. But despite his enthusiasm and technique, that release remained elusive.

"You're doing wonderfully," Alastor breathed, his voice strained but affectionate as he stroked Lucifer's hair. "It feels incredible, truly."

Lucifer pulled back, panting slightly. "But not quite enough?" he asked, unable to keep a hint of disappointment from his voice.

“Darling…”Alastor cooed, obviously trying to soothe him. “I wouldn’t say that.”

Lucifer couldn't help the frustration that bubbled up inside him.

Alastor had been right, and that knowledge stung his pride. But beneath that initial irritation, a fierce determination took root.

He wasn't about to give up so easily.

"We're not done yet," Lucifer declared, his blue eyes flashing with renewed resolve. "I've got more tricks up my sleeve, darling."

Alastor raised an eyebrow, an amused smile playing at his lips. "Is that so? Well, I'm certainly curious to see what else you have in mind."

🍂🍁🍃

Time passed in a blur of heated touches and exploration.

As the night deepened, Lucifer found himself in a decidedly compromising position—legs in the air, practically folded in half as Alastor loomed over him.

"Fuck, yes," Lucifer gasped, all traces of his earlier shyness long gone. Sweat glistened on his skin as Alastor thrust into him relentlessly. "Just like that, don't stop!"

The intensity of the sensation was overwhelming. Lucifer had suggested this position, thinking it might finally push Alastor over the edge.

But as the pleasure built to a crescendo, he realized with a mix of chagrin and ecstasy that he was the one tipped over the edge.

"Alastor—" Lucifer's warning dissolved into a cry of pleasure as his orgasm washed over him, leaving him trembling and breathless.

Alastor's lips curled into a satisfied smirk as he gazed down at Lucifer's flushed face.

The blonde man's chest heaved as he caught his breath, a mix of frustration and lingering pleasure evident in his eyes as Alastor eased him down from being practically folded into a pretzel on the edge of the bed.

"Shut up," Lucifer muttered, unable to meet Alastor's gaze.

“Darling, I didn’t say a thing."

Lucifer took a deep breath, steeling himself before looking up at his partner. "Will you just…fuck me the way you want to?"

Alastor's eyebrows rose slightly. "However I want?" he asked, his voice low and velvety.

Lucifer nodded, swallowing hard. "Yes."

A thrill of anticipation ran through Lucifer's body. He braced himself, half-expecting Alastor to flip him over and take him roughly. To pull out his own tricks with the evident experience he had with deviant and kinky sex.

To his surprise, Alastor gently maneuvered him onto his back.

As Alastor moved over him, Lucifer instinctively wrapped his legs around the slim waist, pulling him closer.

He searched Alastor's face, trying to decipher the unexpected tenderness in his actions.

Alastor leaned in, his breath hot against Lucifer's ear. When he spoke, his voice was low and intense, but still somehow soft.

"You make me want to break my own rules, Lucifer."

Lucifer's heart skipped a beat. He opened his mouth to ask, but Alastor silenced him with a deep, languid thrust that made Lucifer's thoughts scatter like leaves in the wind.

As Alastor continued his slow, steady rhythm, Lucifer managed to find his voice.

"What do you mean by your own rules?" he asked breathlessly, his fingers digging into Alastor's shoulders.

Alastor's dark eyes met Lucifer's, a flicker of vulnerability passing through them.

"I don't let my scene partners touch me," he explained, his voice low and hoarse.

Lucifer hesitated for a moment, suddenly hyper-aware of his hands on Alastor's skin.

Slowly, reluctantly, he dropped his arms from around Alastor's shoulders, letting them fall to the bed.

A fleeting look of disappointment crossed Alastor's face.

In one swift motion, he pinned Lucifer's wrists to the mattress, only to thread their fingers together a moment later.

The intimacy of the gesture gave the older man chills.

"I never do scenes with people I know," Alastor continued, his hips never faltering in their rhythm.

Guilt washed over Lucifer as the weight of Alastor's words sank in. He squeezed Alastor's hands, a mix of emotions swirling in his chest.

"I told you… we shouldn't," he whispered, his voice thick with regret. "But you—"

Before Lucifer could finish, Alastor's lips crashed against his, silencing his doubts.

The kiss was hard, desperate, filled with a longing that took Lucifer's breath away. He melted into it, his body responding instinctively to Alastor's passion.

When they finally broke apart, both were panting.

Alastor's lips ghosted over Lucifer's as he spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. "And…I never, ever let anyone kiss me."

The admission sent a jolt through Lucifer's body. His mind raced, trying to process the significance of what Alastor was telling him.

A soft whine escaped his throat as realization dawned.

"You've got rules against being…intimate with anyone," Lucifer breathed, his eyes searching Alastor's face.

The words hung in the air between them, heavy with implication. Lucifer's heart pounded in his chest, something he wasn't quite ready to name, threatening to overwhelm him.

"Exactly," Alastor murmured, his voice turned to velvet. His darkened eyes bore into Lucifer's, intense and defenseless. "You make me break all of my rules. You make me…" He paused, seeming to struggle with the words. "You make me want to love you."

The confession hung in the air, heavy and raw. He'd never imagined Alastor capable of such openness, such vulnerability.

Before Lucifer could respond, Alastor ducked his head, burying his face in the crook of Lucifer's neck. The shame was palpable, as if Alastor regretted letting his guard down so completely.

Lucifer couldn't bear to see Alastor retreat.

With a surge of affection, he broke his hands free from Alastor's grip. Gently, he cupped the younger man's face, tilting it up to meet his gaze.

"Alastor," Lucifer whispered, his thumbs caressing those sharp cheekbones. Then, overcome by emotion, he pulled Alastor into a deep, tender kiss. He poured everything he couldn't say into that kiss—his own fears, his growing feelings, his acceptance of Alastor's confession.

After a moment, Alastor made a soft sound against Lucifer's lips—something between a whimper and a sigh. His hips continued their steady rhythm, but his voice was strained when he spoke.

"Tell me…" Alastor panted, the words more plea than command. “Tell me that you want me to stay.”

Lucifer broke the kiss, his breath ragged. His heart swelled with affection and a fierce protectiveness.

Without hesitation, he wrapped his arms around the younger man, pulling him close.

"I want you to stay, Alastor," Lucifer breathed, pouring every ounce of sincerity into the words. “With me. As long as you’ll have me.”

As their lips met, Lucifer felt a shudder run through Alastor's body. The younger man's hips stuttered, losing their steady rhythm.

Lucifer gasped into the kiss.

"Oh," Lucifer breathed, breaking the kiss to look up at Alastor in wonder. "You're…you're coming."

Alastor's face was contorted in vulnerability and pleasure, his usual composure completely shattered.

He buried his face in Lucifer's neck, muffling a low groan against his skin.

Lucifer held him tightly, one hand tangling in Alastor's hair while the other stroked soothingly down his back. Awed by the tremors running through Alastor's body, the heat of his breath against his neck.

"That's it," Lucifer murmured, his chest tight with emotion. "Let go, sweetheart. I've got you."

The significance of what had just happened wasn't lost on him. Alastor, who never let himself be vulnerable, who always maintained strict control, had allowed himself this moment of abandon in Lucifer's arms.

"Are you alright?" Lucifer asked softly, pressing a gentle kiss to Alastor's temple.

Alastor lifted his head, meeting Lucifer's gaze. His dark eyes were hazy with bliss, but there was also a hint of wonder there.

"I…yes," Alastor replied, his voice rough.

Lucifer cradled Alastor close, relishing the warm weight of the younger man's body against his own. He could feel Alastor's heart racing, his chest rising and falling with rapid breaths.

The air around them was thick with the scent of sex and sweat, a heady reminder of what they'd just shared.

“You don't have to pull away.” Lucifer murmured, running his fingers through Alastor's damp hair. “Stay with me."

Alastor remained silent, his face still hidden in the crook of Lucifer's neck. But he didn't move to disentangle himself, and Lucifer took that as a good sign.

The room was bathed in soft moonlight, casting everything in a dreamy, silver glow.

Outside, snow continued to fall silently, blanketing the world in white. It felt as though they were cocooned in their own private universe, separate from the rest of the world.

Lucifer's hands roamed gently over Alastor's back, tracing the contours of lean muscle and the ridges of his spine. He marveled at how different this felt from their previous encounters. The urgency and intensity had given way to something softer, more like making love…if he dared to think it.

Alastor finally lifted his head, meeting Lucifer's gaze. His eyes were soft, vulnerable in a way Lucifer had never seen before.

A stray lock of hair fell across his forehead, and Lucifer reached up to gently brush it away.

"I've never…" Alastor's voice was barely above a whisper. "Not like that."

Lucifer's heart swelled with affection. He cupped Alastor's face in his hands, thumbs gently caressing his cheekbones. "I'm honored," he said softly.

Alastor's lips quirked into a small, almost shy smile. It was so unlike his usual confident smirk that Lucifer felt his breath catch in his throat.

"Stay the night," Lucifer said, not quite a question but not quite a demand either. "Please. I want to fall asleep with you and wake up with you in the morning."

For a moment, Alastor looked uncertain.

Lucifer could almost see the walls trying to rebuild themselves behind his eyes. But then Alastor took a deep breath, visibly relaxing.

"Alright," he murmured, leaning in to press a soft kiss to Lucifer's lips. "I'll stay."

🍂🍁🍃

🍁 On Ao3🍁Read for Free on Ream🍁On Tumblr 🍁

[emmabirb8]

Megamind and Zim

So, I'm a huge nerd (as you all know). And I've recently gotten a bit back into Invader Zim because my hyperfixations are a neverending cycle of whatever happens to capture my interest.

Well, since my brain likes to make connections between hyperfixations, I decided to start listing out similarities between one of my most precious blorbos - Megamind - and Zim. Just for funsies. :P

And uh, there's A LOT, actually. Which shouldn't surprise me considering they're both Very Dramatic aliens, but either way. I'm gonna post what I've gathered here for my own amusement. 😁

So here's what I got:

Aliens

Landed on Earth

Grew up parentless

Outcasts of society

Robotic servants/minions that were given to them prior to being sent to Earth (yes, Minion is a fish, but he does have a robotic body)

Black heeled boots and black gloves

Viewed as "evil" even tho neither are actually evil (Zim is self-centered, chaotic, and destructive but I wouldn't classify him as evil even if he himself might - his mission to conquer Earth is more to please his Tallest and be validated as a good invader than to actually be evil for the sake of being evil)

Have strong relationships with their rivals/enemies to the point where they give their lives meaning and purpose - both became depressed and unmotivated when those enemies were suddenly not around to fight (due to being "defeated" in Megs' case and pursuing "real science" in Zim's case in the unfinished ep Mopiness of Doom)

Both are frequently shipped with their enemies in fanworks (Metro Man for Megs, Dib for Zim)

Intelligent scientists and inventors but they're also goofy as hell and they create plans that continually fail

Speech idiosyncrasies (pronouncing words incorrectly for Megs, emphasizing certain words and poor volume control for Zim)

Very animated and dramatic/theatrical when speaking

Short (Zim more so than Megs but Megs is still, like, shorter than Roxanne)

Big egos that hide their severe insecurities

Significant amounts of angst to both character's backstories

Cool color skin tones

Bullied in school

Affinity for junk food

Many fans of their respective media are in the lgbtqia+ community - both characters themselves also read as some flavor of queer and fans often HC/interpret them as such

Both come across as some level of neurodivergent

Pretty neat, huh? Well, I took it a step further (bc of course I did) and decided to ALSO find as many similarities as I could between Roxanne Ritchi and Dib Membrane. Being the main human characters, it felt more appropriate than trying to compare Metro Man to Dib, even tho Metro Man largely fills the "enemy" role for Megamind (and bc I am a filthy shipper at heart, fight me*).

Anyway, so Roxanne and Dib:

Human (potentially questionable in Dib's case, but still)

Foils and equals to the alien protagonists

Intelligent

Sneak into alien protagonists' bases to take pictures and figure out "evil" plans to try to stop them

Have been kidnapped by aliens

Know the real truth of the alien protagonists, but their peers don't (Roxanne knows Megamind isn't really evil or dangerous, Dib knows Zim is really an alien - in Megamind's case, the people of Metro City do eventually come around, but not til the end)

Have false narratives about some aspect of their lives widely believed by the general public (most the citizens of Metro City think that Roxanne is dating Metro Man, almost everyone around Dib believes he's just crazy for thinking Zim is an alien)

Have companions who are also privy to the alien protagonists' true natures, but those companions are apathetic (Metro Man and Gaz respectively)

Concerned for the well-being of their fellow humans and cities

Like their aliens, both also come across as some level of neurodivergent (you kinda have to squint to notice it in Roxanne, but it's definitely there)

Alien boyfriends* (if you ship Megarox and ZaDr :P)

So yeah! Just some fun comparisons to ponder.

*Although I don't ship ZaDr within the canon universe of the show itself, I do enjoy it in certain transformative contexts. I'm v aware of the controversial nature of the pairing, so I wanna make that clear. I just like having fun with it.

[undertow-story]

PROLOGUE

SACHIEL

I’ve lived in this place for as long as I can remember now. Which is not very long in the scheme of things. I’ve been in the Undertow for at least a year and a half if I had to guess, but time doesn’t feel like it flows quite right down here.

My name is Sachiel… At least, this is the name I’ve given myself based off the ID I found in my pocket upon waking. I seem to have lost all memory of my former self, and given the information I have, I’m not from around here. If that wasn’t obvious enough, then I would have figured it out given the fact I am the only one of my kind.

I wish I knew what my kind was, admittedly. Claws. Fangs… Ears, cropped like that of the common mongrel leashed around by the thugs and bandits in this city. Tail and horns- piercing thin slitted eyes just like the creatures I hunt.

I must be a monster.

Not that it bothers me. It’s the only fathomable explanation I can assume anyway. I however, seem to be the only one capable of speech out of the creatures I’ve encountered so far. In this place, it’s kill or be killed obviously, as we’re overrun with horrific entities I cannot explain.

This world is best emphasized by the word ‘survive’.

Rather, uh… This sector is described that way. Look, I only know so much, but also it makes sense to me to write down the things I do know so far- in case my brain gets smacked around enough again to lose all the knowledge I’ve got.

The area I reside is called The Undertow, or just Undertow depending on who you talk to. We are the filth. Cast out from the glistening lights of the city above- we’re forced to live in the waste and squalor of the wealthy fucks put themselves above us. Our home is lit by neon, and is dark around every corner. Disease, Crime, Violence… it’s all rampant here. I have not yet seen the sun for more than 2 hours at a time. Which is unfortunate because the creatures residing here love the darkness. I feel pity for the people of this place. So many just trying to live their lives, get by…

Banished to this horrible place just because they’re not good enough by the standards of those above.

I don’t know the name of the place above us.

I’m not meant to. None of us are.

I saw it once from the outskirts when I left on a hit. The upper lands glow so blindingly bright, and it’s much smaller in comparison to the dredges below it. I personally don’t understand how they can live, I’d go blind. Y'know, how the pompous types are. They don’t care about us. The only time they need us is when they want someone dead…

Speaking of, that seems to be the case.

On a board bolted to a wall in the middle of a bustling market, Sachiel looks up from his book, closing it and putting it away as he takes a paper off the board, holding it in his rough hand. The paper reads: “Wanted: Hunter for removal of Important Persons, please send applications to xxxxx_xxx-x we await your chance to take on this ‘Golden Opportunity’.”

What specific wording.

“Reward: 10,000,000c”

Whoo, this guy must have really fucked up for them to ask a price like that.

Here, if you’ve got the skill then people will let you take on jobs for them… they generally involve killing. Usually it’s for monsters that rampage and cause destruction in specific sectors that threaten the foundations that hold the upper city aloft. Sometimes you get hits for persons- and other times you get hits for assholes like this. The ones up above.

I registered to be a Hunter some time back… maybe after a month of eating rats on the street. I decided I would rather at least be able to afford a beer here and there- maybe actual food instead of just whatever I could scrounge up. I don’t care to take on hits against persons- they don’t interest me… Humans aren’t fun to hunt. However, this is an awfully good deal. I could actually get an apartment instead of sleeping in whatever nearby dumpster I can find…

Never hurts to try I suppose.

His ears bent back, he headed off deeper into the city, clearly somewhere in mind.

Another day in paradise.

Tch-I gotta stop saying that it’s becoming a habit.

Next

[localplaguenurse]

Wendigoon’s latest vid gave me this idea. Oh yeah gore warning

So remember when I send as ask about how someone from the abyss was basically wifey’s mentor and they may have died in front of Wifey?

Well ok let’s make it brutal, there’s a creature in a manga called Made In Abyss where this thing(it’s called a corpse weeper, how fitting) can use it’s mouth to push air into a human corpse’s throat so that the corpse can scream and lure more humans into its hunting ground.

What if when Wifey and Mentor were camping nearby a rare source of drinkable water that won’t melt your guts or turns out to be a living organism and then eats you from the inside out. They hear a scream, Mentor discourages Wifey to go check it out because it could be a trap laid by the monster. Wifey complies but the screaming never stops, and eventually Wifey broke when the screams of a young child was heard and Wifey rushed to the direction of the sound only to see this creature

Looming over the body of the child, once it notices Wifey, it retracts its mouth and rushes towards Wifey. However before wifey could do anything, the monster has them pinned and before it could tear into their guts. Mentor manages to jump onto the creature making it panic and try to get mentor off. And idk fighting happens and Mentor is brutally injured but they managed to injure that thing to the point where it could only lay there and bleed to death

Crying, grieving the usual when a mentor figure dies in front of their mentee. However in the mentor’s last breath, they push Wifey away as another creature swoops in and takes mentor’s body away. So Wifey in a daze went back into the child’s body the whole reason they got into this mess, only the realise there’s nothing left of the child, whatever was left of its body had been eaten by scavengers.

Wow uh that’s a lot… ngl this was just supposed to be Wifey trying to bury a kid and a spine falling out of its clothes

You are giving me fuel you should not be giving me and beta is going to kill me for it.

Because like, for context, these are not only the age gaps for the kids but how old I imagined them being when the abyss shit happens: Yānjiáng is the oldest at 18, Lihua is 14, Zhusha is 8, and then the twins are 3. They’re all still living together when wifey decides to go on their walk and puts Yānjiáng in charge “until they get back.”

When they come back all catatonic, Yānjiáng is in charge of all the kids but puts himself on twin duty. He has Lihua care for Zhusha because she’s at a somewhat self sufficient age, so it’s easier for Lihua to care for her while also taking a load off of Yānjiáng so he can save his energy for wrangling the twins. The adepti also step in and take turns, and Morax and Li Lei are there too, but they’re the only ones who can go near wifey so they’ve got their hands full. Additionally, Yānjiáng is the first kid Morax talks to when progress is made, but he’s also the only one who is actually in on how dire the situation is.

This is to flesh out the situation, give insight on the kids, but more importantly: emphasize that there are three kids under the age of ten.

The thing about kids? They scream. And cry. A lot.

Now Zhusha is at least at an age where if she trips and scrapes her knees, she’ll probably get teary eyed and need a hug, but she won’t be screaming unless she’s seriously hurt. Yaling and Feng are toddlers, and they will scream and cry at just about anything.

Wifey will be somewhat making process, and getting better, before they hear one of the twins crying in the next room over. It’ll be something as little as not wanting to go down for nap time, but all wifey hears is another child screaming and crying, and they immediately flash back to the child they found in the abyss. They hear the screeching and they immediately see the rotted corpse so vividly in their mind, and they smell the rot, and immediately they shut back down again, going either catatonic or bursting into tears. It was a difficult sight as is, being a mother with children not just the age of that child, but also younger. How are they going to be a mother again when the sound of their children crying makes them freeze up, makes them cry, makes them useless as a protector.

...

Ivy I’m going to at least hold you partially responsible in how we’re just layering the ptsd onto this poor wifey. Yeah I’m writing it but you’re giving me the prompts so shared responsibility. Also, I heard Made in Abyss is fucked so it’s obviously on my watchlist.

[silverflqmes]

NOT VERY OFTEN😭 or i’m just in so much shock that im like ARE YOU BEING FR?? ( coming from someone who wasn’t usually the funny or jokey one among friends.. )

YEAH MY GAMING BECAME MORE LIMITED AS I FURTHERED MY HS CAREER😭 i was rlly strict on myself during my final yr cuz i had to repeat it ( had a rlly bad year with covid and all cuz it fucked w my studies</3 ) soo i just limited myself to genshin impact and tekken- since i would play against my dad so i had an opponent LMAO that’s uh weirdly when my interest for ff started to brew bc noctis got added as a dlc for tekken 7 back in 2017 so i was like oooh!! however.. i did not act on said interest🥹 i was like nope!! cannot afford it with how bad i procrastinate.. but fr?? if you go for vet tech i hope it works out!! im going to a uni college, so it’ll be a bit of everything but i want to go into arts and humanities<3 its a three yr cram program but im excited for it!!

i heard that the remakes were pretty different from the og, but im excited to see in what direction it goes in because of that since it’s something the audience already knows and yet there is this suspense because there are bound to be unexpected changes and twists🥸 BUT IM LIVING FOR WHATEVER SEFIKURA STUFF THE DEVELOPERS DECIDED TO FEED THEIR AUDIENCE CUZ ITS JUST INSANE TO ME?? half the time i gotta ask myself if im IMAGINING IT?? the developers are fr SPOILING sefikura enjoyers let them get together and violently make out in the third installment. KIDDING🤠 most definitely kidding.. ( maybe. ) but im really loving cc even if it made me cry last night ( angeal sobs )😭 it’s just like — the ffvii version of revenge of the sith ( for reference this is my fav film of all time ) and im EATING it up🤭 even if it’s gonna tear me tf down at the end.. but it’s great, i just wish more details were added :’) it goes by really fast?? i think it would have been more suspenseful to build up more to lead up to sephiroth’s fall from grace, cuz then the audience gets like EVEN MORE ATTACHED and has even more to lose ahaha.. i’ve seen bits of rebirth and i wanna play so so bad but i gotta hold off on the ps5😔 ec is good but i feel you about the whole stuffing sephiroth lore into a mobile game.. it’s just😭 but yeah i decided to play, it’s grind heavy but i’m trying to get to sephi :’) its just taking some time to level up🙁

oneshots are smtn i do for friends too and just to experiment a little with my writing — or whenever i need a break from fics to just write small stuff and rebuild inspiration :’) headcanons are also fun to do just cuz i get to be unhinged LMAO all types of practices cashes out tho!! but yeah i used to gatekeep too, i was so embarrassed to have ppl read my stuff.. but i kinda just was like fuck it why not🫡 although i took down all my old stuff cuz.. cringe.

dialogue goes hard fr and when a line delivers SO perfectly i just gotta slam my phone or book down, pace about and then return to it.. BAHAHAHA FANTASY BOOKS DO THAT YEAH me personally i do like to be descriptive just cuz i like to set the scene so that my audience is able to see what i see and feel what’s happening outside of the dialogue but it depends what direction i took — if it’s something more imagery focused, dialogue is less emphasized on — if it’s more conversation focused, then dialogue takes the spotlight! i agree with what you mean with the fighting for sure too cuz they definitely need it to communicate since it’s kinda what they were molded into doing ( shinra i will have you by the throat one of these days. ) so i think it’s essential to their relationship LMAO especially for cloud since he has a harder time expressing himself.. sephiroth i mean, has a tough time with feelings too — but he’s a little better at them than cloud is😭 DUDE WHEN TIFA CAUGHT THEM I DEADASS THREW MY PHONE ACROSS THE BED AND SCREAMED INTO MY PILLOW I WAS LIKE NO NO NO😵‍💫 but im glad things at the end despite the conflict was sorted — even if tifa was like yeah uh saw my besti get his back blown out by his enemy, totally normal about this ( she was not ). FF7 RLLY IS A TRAGEDY ISTG I ALWAYS END UP LIKING THE ANGSTIEST SHIT😭 relived you do happy endings tho, it’s healing honestly. reading is about escaping fr so its best to escape to something guaranteed to end well despite hardship!

OOO A DRAGON?? im a monkey BAHAJAHS i think that pairs sillily with gemini, although a lot of my friends think i act like a taurus more😭 which makes sense since im on the cusp ( may 23rd is my birthday and gemini i believe begins the 21st )🐒 honestly never tried the question thing now that i think abt it.. well, somewhat.. usually i like doing au stuff so my questions are more like hahaha what if haikyuu was set in star wars or acotar or genshin — basically something like that and then i do a load of world building😭 which i love<3 but i get that! i mean you’ve been acquainted with them for this long so it eventually comes naturally yeah? BUT YOURE SO RIGHT, i have had moments where i was like SHIT i wish i added this and then i rework things to make my new editions possible LMAO

schedules and writers are like water and oil, kudos to the authors who can actually keep schedules😭 BUT SHIT YEAH I WOULD PASS OUT IF I HAD TO WRITE THAT MUCH IN ONE SITTING granted i have days where i pump out 2-3k words but then i have days where i put one sentence and im like okay thats enough😶 HAKAHWKWJSJ I WAS JUST SHOCKED SINCE WE GOT SO LENGTHY😭😭 but i do have discord!! i’ll dm you my user after i finish LMAOAOAOAOAISSKKS

DUDE I LOVE OLD FILMS SM AND WITH THE TECHNOLOGY THEY HAD ITS JUST SO??? i wish ppl would appreciate it more but i guess newer generations are spoiled now😭 I HEARD SOMETHING LIKE THAT ABOUT SEPH’S HAIR THATS HONESTLY SO INSANE TO ME they fr were like we cannot butcher homeboy he’s gotta eat up the audience, love them for that so much<3 BUT YEAH!! that’s honestly so crazy to think about, every time i look back on my interests and the source it came from or i guess the what initiated it — its just so crazy??? to weirdly think that i would not be doing any of this if it wasnt for my guy best friend — who i had a crush on for the longest time.. and wanted to get into his interests to become closer with him — which resulted in me discovering fanfic on my own, writing it and getting the courage to share my writing with others, as well as making cool friends😭 BAKAHSWKSJ YEAH I AM🫣 THATS SO CRAZY TO THINK ABOUT THOUGH??? no wonder you write so wonderfully, you really really honed your craft<33 AKAKAKS THAT SOUNDS FUN THO🥹 my old best friend at the time when i began writing would co-write with me and we would also draw scenes too- back then it was when we played wizard101 together, minecraft and sims — and just spawned all these handwritten and drawn stories😵‍💫😵‍💫 it was so much fun, i kept all of them<3 GEEZ DELETED??? that sounds like wattpad now, they rlly just kinda fucked up the whole site.. that’s why i keep nsfw content here :’) HELP THE LEMON AND LIME ERA AJAJAJSHS that is such a throwback oml, now its gone to smut and most recently- spice among book lovers😭😭

zakkura was doomed a bit yeah</3 im not sure how things turned out in rebirth since i hear he’s in it?? but im rooting for him and aerith more😭 they are just so cute in cc together🙁 BAKQSH yeah sefikura.. its a tough call🥹 but they both need each other — like one cannot be without the other no matter how many times cloud tries to reject him.. DUDE I LOVE OLD SCHOOL BL THO<3 maybe thats why i was so drawn to your fics cuz honestly i dont read ship stuff anymore since im a little more self indulgent ahahaha.. but sefikura snatched me up in such a stunning move🧎‍♀️

LMAOO YEAH HE IS he’s such a sweetheart<3 i love him being the mediator and comedic relief, the much needed extrovert among two emotionally constipated introverts BAHAHAHA but yeah.. i figured things might be a little rocky between cloud and seph after the ending of SI but zack will help, i believe in him!!! ESPECIALLY WITH THAT EXCERPT ABAHAHSSHKW i bet cloud would let sephiroth sit on his lap to prove a point tbh ( it probably fails and leads him to getting teased instead AHAHAHAHA )

HELP IM JUST NATURALLY NAIVE😭😭 might also be the cloud kinnie in me cuz i continuously stumbled into those thinking patterns of like okay theres a happy ending BUT IS SOMETHING GONNA HAPPEN TO SEPHIROTH BECAUSE THE POSSIBILITY OF DEATH KEEPS GETTING MENTIONED AND IDK WHAT TO THINK.. so you successfully got me to follow the cloud train of thoughts🤣 but yeah writing is about playing your audience a bit, even i do that especially with my constant need of leaving cliffhangers ahahahhaha… its rlly important to get them in touch with their emotions cuz it draws them in more — which is what happened to me ehe.. BRO YEAH IAYSKSJSKSKS in ID the whole time im like oh gosh what is he planning all we know is cloud’s pov so it leaves me wanting to know what sephiroth is gonna do yk?? so once again — you succeeded on that BAHAHAHAHA speaking of its almost 1am I HAVE GOT TO READ CH 15🫡 ao3 was down today and i almost combusted im so glad it repaired itself cuz i was like NO WAY NOT WHEN I WAITED ALL WEEK FOR THIS MOMENT😭 kinda worked out tho cuz i finished my motivation later yayayay~

aaaa i hope it’s gotten better, it’s tough to deal with that — i used to have really bad anxiety a couple years back due to school :’) but i’ve somewhat gotten better, my only issue is stress.. im glad sefikura has helped you though!! AND THAT LIFE GETS KINDER TO YOU BC YOU DESERVE IT FOR BEING SO SWEET🙁❤️

OMW TO THE REUNION AFTER I HYPE UP MY BESTI REAL QUICK🕺 EEEEEK SO EXCITED TO READ<33

hi hi not necessarily an ask but i wanted to tell you that your works are so good??? like i’m still trying to wrap my head around the fact that your stories are not the canon plot of ff7 AND YET IT FEELS SO REALISTIC BECAUSE YOU PORTRAY THE CHARACTERS SO WELL??? i fr almost gaslighted myself for a second there BAHAHAHA ahem, anyway, really love your style of writing, it’s so refreshing to me<3 literally got me giddy and looking forward to fic updates for the first time in awhile?? i’ve been in a reading slump for a good minute and your sefikura fics dragged me out in the most emotional yet spicy way possible IDK HOW YOU DO IT WITH THE WAY TAG TEAMING SMUT AND ANGST SO LANGUIDLY, LITERALLY GOT ME UGLY CRYING ONE MINUTE AND THEN SCREAMING THE NEXT

the power you hold oml but anyway — all in all it’s immaculate, eating it up fr🧎‍♀️ can’t wait to read more!!

and ummmm.. my bad for the word vomit i fr had to simp on main and show my appreciation🫡 have a good rest of your day / night!!<33

Wow, thank you so much! 😱 It’s not everyday I get praised like that, and I’m so honored you like my work that much! 🥰 I love to write, and I have original work on the backburner indefinitely because sefikura has stolen my soul for all eternity, haha. And I know exactly what you mean, I was so disappointed that fics I liked a lot only updated once a year or were left unfinished and I just...got so fed up with it that I decided I’d rather just spend my time writing my own than keep trying to read them. That’s why I’ll never leave a story unfinished(though sequels may take a while to appear). My comments section on AO3 is open to both users and guests, so you are always free to scream about it there or here, I don’t mind in the slightest! It makes me excited to post when you’re excited for the update, too! 

Out of curiosity, which story got you hooked on my work? 👀 In Death is my current fic that has 5 chapters left, and I’ll post one every single Friday until it’s complete, with chapter 15 coming out in just a couple days~! Ahh, the reunion is almost at hand! I also made a special image for the final chapter, and I can’t wait to share it. :) Thank you for leaving me such a lovely comment, I’m truly honored to receive it! 💖💖

[little-eye-guy]

some fletcher

still messin around w how his semi-solid stuff looks

[yuurei20]

EN vs JP: Spectral Soiree

Original Ace: Please do something about that guy!

EN Ace: Then would you DO SOMETHING about these guys?!

In the translated version of the game it has been made to seem like Ace is asking for Leona’s help with the ghosts, but in his original line he wasn’t referring to the ghosts at all. He was asking for Leona to do something about just one person: Floyd.

Original Floyd: Huh? You're a human, too.

EN Floyd: Uh, counterpoint: I know you are, but what am !?

While the English-language adaptation of Floyd differentiates between mermaids and humans for the sake of a (cute!) joke, in the original game Floyd says, "you're a human, too," as though he considers himself no less human than Ace.

And this point is explicitly emphasized in the novel, where we learn that mermaids, beastpeople and those who are not are all called "human" in Twisted Wonderland.

Original Ghost C: Thieves! Perverts! Scoundrels! …I won’t abide by this!

EN Ghost C: You scoundrels! I won’t abide thievery!

Original Trein: Of course, they are eggs of adept magic users. I do not lack faith in their abilities.

EN Trein: Yes, they’re exceptional fledgling mages. I do not lack faith in their abilities.

There is an ongoing egg-theme throughout the game that is not reaching the EN-server.

Original Riddle: While I did live in the Queendom of Roses, I lived inland, and had never seen a real ocean before coming to the school…

EN Riddle: I grew up in the Queendom of Roses, which is landlocked. I’d never even seen the ocean until I came to our school.

The Queendom of Roses is not landlocked. It is an island.

Original Riddle: As a fellow 2nd-year housewarden…you are worthy of standing shoulder to shoulder with (me)! And yet…

EN Riddle: I acknowledge he’s someone worth standing together, as a fellow sophmore housewarden!

This is very difficult to express in English,but Riddle’s original line sounds more…desperate? Urgent? Betrayed? It is more emotional than the translated version, which is why his reaction was so dramatic when he realized he had been recorded.

Original Deuce: Saying “pathetic” is going too far!

EN Deuce: Oh, come on! I’m sure it was a…manly sort of sniveling!

Ace, Deuce, Grim and Cater see a lot of unique additions to their dialogue on NA, but this one comes a little close to conflicting with Deuce’s character. 

It is a plot point in the Wish Upon a Star event (and also lowkey touched upon in Book 5) that Deuce really seems to have no concept of certain things being gendered. He has no qualms about the Wish Upon a Star costume and dance in that event, and it is a plot point in the story that he stands up to bullies who go after him for the look and performance while Trey hides behind a pillar in embarrassment, simply because Deuce saw nothing unusual about it.

It seems that Deuce is more on Vil’s side of the spectrum on this topic, so inventing a line for him that insinuates that he is uncomfortable about his masculinity being called into question might come a little close to being the opposite of what we’ve seen of his character thus far.

Original Leona: Back home in Sunset Savanna, there’s this place called the elephant graveyard.

EN Leona: Back home in the Sunset Savanna, we got this place…

Original Ace: E, elephant graveyard!? The name alone sounds terrifying.

EN Ace: Uh huh…Why do I suddenly have the heebie-jeebies?

A list of the food localization that we have seen thus far: - Menchi katsu sandwich -> Ham and cheese sandwich - Yakisoba bread -> Bear claw - Cream bread -> Cronut - Mini an-bread -> Hotdog bun - Takoyaki -> Corndog - Hotspring egg -> Elephant ear

More fun with pronouns and sentence structures that are entirely impossible to translate: in the original version of the game Malleus does not call Leona by name.

The ghosts that we have met thus far have all had old-fashioned verbal tics (that the EN version does its best to recreate for an English-speaking audience), and in his attempts to convince people that he is possessed by one of the ghosts in question, Malleus gets his verbal tics confused.

Leona discovers the ruse by noticing this mix up, since Malleus wouldn’t have such a problem if he were truly being possessed by a ghost with that specific speech pattern.

A noble attempt was made by translators to uphold the old-fashioned speech patterns of the ghosts that we met throughout the game, but it probably would have been confusing to try and convince EN players that Leona caught on to inconsistencies in Malleus’ efforts to speak like a ghost.

When called out on his slip Malleus accidentally uses a different pronoun than he had been at first, which Rook points out.

Pronoun swapping isn’t really something that can be portrayed in English, so it makes sense that this entire exchange was rewritten for EN.

On the subject of pronouns: they are often dropped entirely from natural conversation when you speak in Japanese, because context and verb form conjugation make them redundant.

In Trey’s lines above there are no subject pronouns at all, and the verb forms in this case would be the same whether he is discussing himself or Sebek. The only way we can figure out who he is talking about is context (if that seems like it can get confusing, you are correct, i.e. the broom/bloom birthday series where Yana weaponized it for wordplay).

But Rook set the subject as “Monsieur Crocodile” at the start. In a natural conversation this removes the need to constantly repeat “he”, which is why they don’t. 

If Trey wanted to specify that it was Trey himself who was teasing Deuce somewhere off screen, he would need to specify that he was changing the subject of the conversation by saying “I”.

But we also have the scene above where Sebek mocks Deuce for his “pathetic sniveling”, which we never saw Trey do. While it’s not technically impossible that Trey is saying he has been making fun of Deuce somewhere separately that we did not see, it would be grammatically off as Sebek was set as the subject at the beginning of the conversation, making the EN translation a slip of subject pronouns.

Q: Wait, does this mean that Trey’s first line could technically mean “He’s got tears running down his face” OR “I’ve got tears running down my face”? 

A: Yes. But the translators were able to tell from the context that Trey is obviously not describing himself, he is describing Sebek, and they correctly introduced the subject “he” into the English-language translation. For some reason this just didn’t make it to Trey’s follow-up line.

[hamliet]

Ahhh well, I have written much on Romeo and Juliet before, because it's one of my favorite works of Shakespeare and of literature itself. It is criminally underrated and scorned because of sexist anti-romance sentiment. So uh, yeah, I'm more of your opinion.

To start with, I wrote this here, and highly recommend this old post by someone else as well. It's quite comprehensive.

But, because I love Romeo and Juliet and the more I learn about it, the more impressed I am with the absolute art of the story Shakespeare told, I have more to say. Essentially:

Juliet is one of the most astounding female characters in all of literature, and most of her brilliance has been lost with the loss of Shakespearean context. You see, Juliet was a deliberate deconstruction of the idealized, virginal, holy creature of Woman. Yes, that's how the medieval poets like Petrarch (the inventor of the sonnet, which Shakespeare adapted and wrote his own versions of in Romeo and Juliet and hundreds more on their own) and even Dante Alighieri (yes, that Dante, the Inferno guy) wrote their women. For Petrarch, Laura (whom he like, never talked to) was the object of all his love poetry. For Dante, Beatrice was written as his spiritual guide into Paradise in Paradiso.

Not to simplify their love for these women, but Shakespeare was essentially like "RIP but I'm different." He wrote Juliet as a human character with flaws (hardly a spiritual guide) who was not this virginal, holy creature. She starts off the play extremely obedient to her family and polite, almost like that ideal, but as the play goes on she begins to let her fire grow.

Romeo's poems for Rosaline are deliberately trite and parody Petrarch's sonnets, as well as other sonnets from the day (for example, Rosaline is literally sworn to chastity forever, which wasn’t even the case for Laura or Beatrice). While the fact that Romeo can switch loves from Rosaline to Juliet so quickly does indeed emphasize his flaw (impulsivity and deep passion), it also thereby emphasizes his humanity, because the unique imagery Romeo uses with Juliet show that he is really in love with her as she is--not as an idea like with Rosaline, but as a human being. As with many of Shakespeare's other renowned plays' characters, Romeo's flaws are also his strengths. He's complex--human.

So what am I going on about? Why did Shakespeare write Romeo and Juliet this way?

To emphasize their humanity. Which is interesting, because Romeo and Juliet's first meeting, the one where they both create a sonnet together, is all about idolatry:

Romeo If I profane with my unworthiest hand This holy shrine, the gentle sin is this. My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand To smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss. Juliet Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much, Which mannerly devotion shows in this; For saints have hands that pilgrims' hands do touch, And palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss. Romeo Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too? Juliet Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer. Romeo O, then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do; They pray, grant thou lest faith turn to despair. Juliet Saints do not move, though grant for prayers' sake. Romeo Then move not, while my prayer's effect I take. [He kisses her]

He describes her as a holy shrine and a saint, but the more their romance goes on, the more human she becomes. He kisses her right away. When they meet in the balcony scene, Juliet herself tells Romeo that the only thing she wants him to swear by--no gods or moons--is himself. In other words, Romeo and Juliet can be seen as a deeply humanistic play. 

Also, the more their romance continues, the more human they become and yet the deeper their love becomes. As one of the posts I linked above states, Romeo loves Juliet more after they’ve had sex, not less. Juliet loves Romeo more despite the fact that she knows he killed her cousin--and she is not happy with him for that, either. The more they learn of each other, the more they love each other. 

Oh, and about the extra gross modern take that "it's actually a story about a 13 year old and a much older man"--that is complete bogus, as the above post says. Romeo is almost certainly 15 or 16. While people can be squicked out by it (as it was designed to do with some Italian stereotypes), to say it shows anything creepy is basically literary blasphemy and betrays an utter lack of reading comprehension. 

Juliet sets the parameters in their relationship: she tells him if he really loves her, he has to marry her before she will sleep with him, and Romeo does. She muses herself how much she wants to sleep with him in a way that clearly expresses Juliet’s very human desires. Juliet is going to assert who she is and go after what she wants. 

So to go back to your question, it’s not just about their families, but about society as well, as Prince Escalus says in the final scene:

Capulet! Montague! See what a scourge is laid upon your hate, That heaven finds means to kill your joys with love. And I for winking at your discords too Have lost a brace of kinsmen. All are punish’d.

Everyone is punished for participating in the feud, which, keep in mind, we were introduced to via an intro fight scene between the servants of the respective families joking about raping the women in the opposing family. Yes, really. It’s almost like toxic masculinity was being called out before its time. 

Society is extremely sexist, as we see when Juliet’s father essentially sells her to Paris for the sake of having political clout to win the feud (literally, as Paris is the Prince’s kinsman) and threatens to send her on the streets to prostitute herself if she wants to survive for asking him not to make her marry Paris. But the cat’s out of that bag: Juliet is not going back to being the docile, obedient idol. She’s decisive. She wants to write her own story, and if that makes her a sinner, well then, she’ll go to hell. In the end, when the Friar suggests that Juliet come with him so that he can hide her away in some convent (after Romeo’s death), Juliet refuses and kills herself. She is not going back to being a figure shrouded in some kind of ethereal, unknown glow. She is a person, and people die. But she shouldn’t have had to die for people to see her as a person. 

There’s also another layer here: the imagery Romeo uses for Juliet (the sun) and that Juliet uses for Romeo (the moon) is the inverse of how imagery was typically presented in those days. The moon was feminine; the sun, masculine. Even if we look at Romeo and Juliet’s respective character traits, Romeo is the flighty, impulsive, love-struck one who cries all the time, while Juliet is the decisive, bold, and loyal one. That’s the first thing Juliet declares to Romeo in the balcony scene: that she will always be loyal, and she shows this in every choice she makes in the story.

In other words, Shakespeare was deliberately playing with gender and its stereotypes in the play, which gains an even more interesting layer to it when you consider that Shakespeare was himself almost certainly bisexual (his sonnets are preeeetty explicit). It’s not a patriarchal narrative; it can well be seen as a queer narrative in a patriarchal society. And it shouldn’t take two kids having to kill themselves to get society to realize how effed up it is. It isn’t an out-of-touch play, but instead one extremely relevant to our society 500+ years later. 

But, Romeo and Juliet’s story is also one of hope. Because instead of no one listening, finally, Montague and Capulet realize how wrong they’ve been. They grieve together, and Capulet vows to let Romeo remain in his family’s tomb, by Juliet’s side (also different, you know, that the husband stays in the wife’s tomb). Montague vows to build a statue for Juliet:

For I will raise her statue in pure gold, That whiles Verona by that name is known, There shall no figure at such rate be set As that of true and faithful Juliet.

Gold is associated with the masculine as well; silver with the feminine. She is remembered as someone “true and faithful,” aka for her loyalty and bravery. 

But no statue can bring Juliet back. She was not an idol, and it’s tremendously unfair that that is all she can become now. Same for Romeo. Even so, the fact that their deaths have finally brought peace to the city means that there is life growing from their deaths. They will never be able to birth a family of their own, but the city will grow and live, because of them. 

[charcubed]

Let's talk about Supernatural 15x07, "Last Call."

Or as I like to call it, "the episode that makes me go feral because it tells us so much about Dean's sexuality, character, and arc." 

YES others have written meta! YES I will talk about it myself for the satisfaction! I LOVE IT SO MUCH.

This post was originally a thread on Twitter and I am crossposting it to my blog.

Alt image IDs are included in that linked Twitter thread!

Join me on this journey.

What's the context of this episode? Dean's been kind of down/depressed, feeling hopeless in the face of the idea that they have to defeat God (and not really working towards that goal much), and he's mid-divorce with Cas. He goes out on this solo case to try to clear his head.

And he ends up at Swayze's Bar. 

 Look, there are many things to be said about this. Dean loves Patrick Swayze. Arguably has a CRUSH on Swayze. It's very tied up in Dean pretending not to like "chick flicks" but he secretly does, which is queer coding. This was a Choice™️.

Speaking of Choices™️: professional actors made many here. Deliberately. 

 Dean is smacked on the ass by a woman and then Lee smacks him on the ass too. Dean and Lee CONSTANTLY have physical familiarity and fond eye contact. I will limit myself to 1 paragraph about this lest I list it all.

My point is that I just really need every person to digest and accept the fact that this is textually bi Dean. Not subtext; it's TEXT. 

Dean and Lee had a relationship. Their history is alluded to in touch and in words. They had an orgy together. Dean's bisexuality is not repressed.

It's also now canon that Dean tries to hide that he can sing well. Most people don't know (like Sam) but some do (Lee). Hence "Eye of the Tiger" callback.

And so: that's also the implication for his sexuality. Dean singing ON STAGE with bi lighting is him being ready to be Out.

They dedicated an entire half an ep at minimum to emphasizing he's bi... and to Dean having a conversation with someone he (initially) trusts about potentially having a break from hunting, and what that could mean.

LEE: You're chasing missing persons, huh? I thought you'd be on to something bigger by now, like the Loch Ness Monster... Bigfoot.

DEAN: Trust me, uh, bigger doesn't always equal better. Besides, who's gonna look out after the little guy? God certainly isn't.

LEE: Damn, brother, that's dark.

DEAN: Yeah, it's been a rough, uh... it's been a rough decade, Lee.

LEE: Yeah.

DEAN: But that's a conversation for a different time, 'cause this, this right here, this is all right.

LEE: Well, I'm glad you approve. This is nothing you can't have, man.

DEAN: Oh, come on. Who's gonna kill the bad guys?

LEE: Somebody else. Dean, how many lives you think you saved, huh? Hundreds? Thousands? You deserve a break, bro. Hell, you might even deserve two.

"But Lee turns out to be a villain!" some might say. "Isn't the point that giving up hunting is bad?" 

Nope. 

Lee's a DARK MIRROR for Dean. He exists to exhibit the truths behind Dean's desires, and then what they'd look like if they turned bad. Take it from him: "I am you."

There are LAYERS here. You can't focus on the dark side and ignore the truths that take place in the (often bi) light. 

The singing? The conversations about taking a break? Throwing men out of the bar, which is framed heroically? "Road House rules" (another Choice™️)?

NONE of that was bad. It shows what Dean wants. 

Things only get bad–literally and visually–when Dean's tied up as Lee suddenly says wrong things in the dark. 

The contrast exists to show that maintaining Goodness is a choice, and Dean would have no problem upholding that.

LEE: It's called a marid. It's a freaky-looking little thing, isn't it? [Lee laughs, and Dean stares at him, incredulous] Ah. As long as you feed it, it gives you money, it gives you health, everything you dreamed of.

DEAN: And so, what, it just costs innocent lives?

LEE: Dean, you and I both know no one's innocent. After everything we've done, aren't... aren't we owed a little happiness, huh? Don't we deserve that much?

DEAN: Listen to yourself. "We're owed." "We deserve." Come on, man. You're not God. Hell, God's not even God.

LEE: Good or bad... the world doesn't care. No one cares, Dean.

DEAN: Well, I do.

LEE: Yeah. And that's what got you here. Now, takes a while to drain a man, but listen to me. Don't worry about it, all right? Don't worry because once you lose a couple of pints, you just fall asleep, and then it'll be over.

[Lee pats Dean on the shoulder]

DEAN: Lee.

LEE: This... this is not how I wanted this to go, Dean. When that blonde girl walked in here last night, I should've know, you know, Dean Winchester, the righter of wrongs, you were gonna keep digging, and you were gonna figure me out. And if it's got to be you or me, well, I got to pick me, man.

"No one cares, Dean."

"Well, I do."

It's a reminder to himself as much as it is to Lee. It's a re-centering of purpose that he sorely needs.

And what's also key? Lee is human, but is now a "monster" in Dean's words. Because Lee lost his ability to care, Dean can't abide by that.

(Side note: bonus for the fact that Lee dies up against a wall by being impaled and he coughs up blood. You know who doesn’t cough up blood in their very weird and unrealistic death scene? Dean in the finale.)

Remember: Lee is a dark mirror for Dean. "I am you." 

By fighting and (tragically) killing Lee, Dean "kills" the darker side of himself. The side that's struggling to keep going right now... AND the side that fears eventually wanting a break means you must be selfish and stop caring.

He can keep going. He can find strength to fight God–and in the end, take a break and CHOOSE peace. It won't make him dark. He's the most caring man on Earth, even when it's hard. That’s reinforced later. 

Isn't he owed a little happiness? And that's not in the having. It's in just being.

The bonus is what's going on with Cas in this episode. 

Dean's clearing his head and finding his center again while Cas is calling him. 

Come home. I need you. Remember what matters.

And again, contrast: Lee turns out not to be "real/true" in the way Dean thought he was. But Cas IS.

And after Dean goes through all of this... he's grounded again, he recognizes that even amongst questions of what God controls there are still choices to be made, he's reminded that letting his caring heart lead him is priority, he's lost another friend... 

He comes home to Cas.

It's awkward. They're still distanced. 

But this episode is a turning point for Dean. He's not angry at Cas anymore, he wants to talk, he's ready to move forward... he just doesn't know how to yet.

And if you follow the through-line... then you get Rowena saying "fix it"... and then after that is the Purgatory prayer.

I just !!! 

S15 is packed with Dean development to hone in towards the end of his arc, but "Last Call" manages to hit SO many buttons. 

• He's always been bi, & is ready to be Out

• He can want a break–& maybe run a bar like the Roadhouse

• Caring is at the core of who he is

It's about the CHOICE. It's about wanting to live your truths, and that "caring" can mean many things–from defeating God and saving the world, to making the hard choices when it counts, to maybe running a bar where people are safe.

14x10 and its matching Texan Star also say hello:

DEAN: How come you always have a boyfriend?

PAMELA: How come you only want what you can't have?

DEAN: Whoa.

PAMELA: Besides, you don't want me. You just like to flirt. I'm a psychic, so I kinda know.

DEAN: All right.

PAMELA: So, still not ready to sell the bar, huh? It's a lot of money.

DEAN: Sell? This bar? This is my dream.

PAMELA; Yeah.

And I recognize that rereading this info is sad(der) now because of what we got in the end, so uh... sorry. 

But that's half the point: it's repeatedly blatantly clear what we were meant to get, down to deliberate echoes in word choice–caring, happiness, deserve, even Roadhouse.

Dean was meant to choose to take a break, maybe run a bar–whether on Earth or in Heaven. At minimum, if Dean was meant to end up in Heaven, he was meant to choose it with eyes wide open. And the next time the phone rang with Cas' name (15x19), he RAN for him. He was VERY ready.

And the whole season tells you that. This episode is just my favorite.

So... thanks for letting me ramble on about it!!! 

DEAN WINCHESTER: BI ICON, ONCE-LOVER OF LEE WEBB, THE MOST CARING MAN ON EARTH WHO DESERVED TO CHOOSE PEACE AFTER GAINING HIS FREEDOM, & SOULMATE TO AN ANGEL

And a very big thank you to the talented kings Jensen Ackles & Christian Kane, and their longstanding friendship. They gave me many rights with their acting choices. 

Here's an iconic bonus for the road.

[dodo-begone]

New Normal

Pairing: Yandere!Tubbo x Reader (with some Ranboo)

Request: we need more yandere tubbo i absolutely love the way you wrote him shdhhfjd........ maybe a short fic or some headcanons elaborating on "waking up in the mansion one day"? maybe the reader gets more afraid than going along with it .. I'd love to see ranboos aspect regarding tubbos behavior as well 👀

Word count: 2.3 k

Warning: yandere, kidnapping, drugging

A/n: This is all platonic. Nothing romantic. Also this was meant to be short not this long oh lord.

The night had been unforgiving to you as of late. Every night you felt like you were being watched over. It was so weird. It didn’t matter if the windows were open or not. Or even if they had blinds over them. Your paranoia was being fed by every noise emanating from the darkness. Now you weren’t afraid of the dark, never had been. But now, oh god the dark was terrifying. The unknown of the dark scared you. Anything could be hiding in there. And with this new “admirer” of yours, your newfound fear of the shadows was being fed a damn feast. The last straw for you was when you came home one night and saw your window broken and front door open. It spooked you too much; what if they were still inside? You couldn’t risk that.

That’s how you found yourself in Tubbo’s house, on his couch, hunched over and shaking over a cup of tea. You don’t remember why you came here, in all honesty. There were so many other people you could have chosen that were more than capable of protecting you. There was Sam, Bad, Sapnap, even Technoblade. Yet you still went to Tubbo. He was a comforting presence for you. And you just really wanted some comfort for this new fear of yours. Is this what I child felt when they were scared of the dark and needed a flashlight? God now you feel so bad for making fun of little kids for needing those.

“Hey are you okay,” a hand just fucking attacks your shoulder and you wip around. Oh god what if the guy got you now- wait it’s just Tubbo. Wow you overreacted there. Your swift actions shocked Tubbo, making him take a few steps away from you. He held his hands up in the air; an attempt to show he meant no harm to you. But you were just relieved at the sight of Tubbo.

“I don’t know,” a lump was forming in your throat. The tea isn't helping at all. You were so upset that you couldn’t even tell what flavor it was. Nor did you ask Tubbo, but that didn’t matter. Only distractions mattered now; a way to get your mind off of the paranoid thoughts. “I think I am”. Your grip on the cup tightened. Some of that was you trying to ground yourself, but another part of it was just tension. It was becoming harder to breathe and you had no idea why. There wasn’t a reason. Start breathing normally again- uh what was that breathing exercise?

Tubbo came around the couch and sat by your side. “Hey, can you look at me really quick?” He grabbed your hands and you looked at him. Somehow looking into his eyes made it harder to breathe. “Okay now repeat after me- wait not repeat. Uh, do what I do. Ready?” You didn’t get a chance to reply before he started. “Okay take a deep breath with me. In through the mouth for five and out the nose for four. In for five, out for four.” A small pattern formed from the mantra. Something about the exercise was extremely comforting, but you were never sure on what it was. Well you knew it had to do with slowing your breathing and helping you focus, but you felt like there was something else to it. There had to be something else to it. Why else would it be able to calm you so well right now?

It took a while, but you finally calmed down. Well, “calmed down” being a relative term. You were tired and numb inside. Your attention was completely focused on the flames in the hearth. They were mesmerizing. Happily dancing away, illuminating the room.

You hadn’t realized what was happening. All you remember is looking at Tubbo and then everything just became blurry. The sting of tears stung your eyes. Oh, you were about to cry again. That’s so annoying, stupid. You had just calmed down and yet you’re still crying. Craving human contact must be a symptom of sadness or some shit because you looked at Tubbo for comfort. And he gave you exactly that; opening his arms to give you a hug. Without a second thought, you essentially flew into his arms. He accepted you immediately and held you close. The tears that had once been contained by a damn once again ran free. Slowly you grew tired. Oh how you despised the act of crying and how it drained you so. A little nap wouldn’t hurt.

__________________________________ The sunbeams were attacking you and it hurt so much. So bright, demanding. You didn’t want to get up. Sleepiness still held you captive, flowed through your body like the very blood you had. Yet the light was relentless, attacking your closed eyes through it’s armor. A valiant effort was made to stay asleep and keep the sunlight out of your eyes. But it was futile. Rolling over did nothing but illicit noise and made you mildly uncomfortable. When you finally gave in, you just stared blankly at the wall.

For a wall, it was pretty. Kinda. It was plain but a stylish kind of plain. A timeless look. It took ages to finally muster the energy to even sit up, but you still did. The view changed yet it didn’t at the same time. It was pretty empty in the room. Three doorways, two next to each other on your right and one on your left, a bed, some curtains, a small nightstand, and a bookshelf. Other than that, there was a ton of open space.

Once you regained some more consciousness, you slipped out of bed. There was a jingle, but you didn’t really pay attention to it. You definitely heard it, you just thought something fell on the floor. Whatever it was could wait. The unexplored room was just waiting for exploration, though you could have easily explored it from your bed because of how empty it was. When you got to one of the doors, you slowly opened it to reveal a closet. It was absolutely filled with clothes you liked. Or some you were missing. Didn’t you own that shirt at home? And that one too? Huh, what a coincidence. Pretty cool.

Not even two steps away from the closet was another door, which you also slowly opened. Didn’t want to hit anyone. Through that door was a bathroom. It was pretty big and pretty. Very shiny and clean. There were some care products in there, some shampoo and conditioner. But you stopped yourself from looking too much. You didn’t want to snoop. It was rather rude to do.

Grogley you turn toward the last mystery door. It was all the way on the other side of the room. Man you weren’t awake enough for this. Yawning, you start your way to the other doorway. That must be the way back to the rest of the mansion. Sadly you didn’t get far. Not even halfway there before you were stopped. More accurately tripped. Something made your foot slip from underneath, making you fall onto your stomach. Everything ached, but your ankle felt weird. It was a different pain. When you tried to pull it closer to examine it, something stopped it and the sound of metal hitting itself rang across the room. You nearly give yourself whiplash from how quickly you turn your head.

A metal cuff clung onto your ankle which in turn was connected to a tense chain. At the other end of the chain was one of the bedposts. Specifically the one closest to the closet and bathroom. That’s odd. Okay now what’s going on here? Oh did Tubbo do this to make you feel more secure? Well it was and wasn’t working all at the same time. Because who puts an ankle chain on somebody?

A knock interrupted your thoughts. From your spot on the floor, you whipped your head back around to the last mystery door. You stayed quiet, wondering if you were just imagining noises. But another knock soon came. It was undeniable, very pronounced and purposeful. Whoever was out there- what could they be here for. Panic started to overtake you again, but the sound of Tubbo’s voice coming from the other side of the door caught your attention.

“Can I come in,” Tubbo announces his presence again with another round of knocks. With the amount of noise you made, you were pretty sure he knew you were awake. But you still replied to him.

“Yeah you can.”

Not even a second after you reply, the door slowly opens and Tubbo peaks his head in. He seemed to have woken up with some bedhead, which made him look boyish. A little careless for physical appearances, which can be an endearing feature. Tubbo gave the room a sweeping look, checking for something. What exactly, you couldn’t tell. But apparently he was satisfied because he opened the doorway entirely. You swiftly stood up, getting as close to the door as you could.

On the other side of the door was Tubbo in some pajamas. He looked a little sleepy, but his happiness shone through it. You smiled at the sight of him, happy that someone came to get you out.

“Good morning, Tubbo!” You gave a toothy grin and spread your arms to emphasize your joy. “Sleep well?”

“Good morning!.” He gave you a toothy smile in return, but it looked odd. Like it was forced, nervous even. But you must’ve just been looking too far into it. “I slept pretty good. How’d you sleep?”

“I slept like a fucking rock,” you reply with a little laughter. “Honestly? Best sleep of the month, man. Really needed it. Thanks for letting me bunk at your place last night.”

“Not a problem at all,” his smile soon became more natural, much bigger. “I really enjoyed having you over”. It seemed like he was going to say something else, but stopped himself. The nervous look reappeared on his face, and you gave the most reassuring look you could. “So about you moving in-”

“Oh yeah that,” your smile disappeared as quickly as it came. “I can’t just do that Tubbo. I just can’t.” Tubbo seemed saddened by your response. “It’s not like I don’t want to live with you,” you explained. “I’d love to live with you and Ranboo, but I have other responsibilities. Things that have to be done very far from the mansion. Seriously, I’d love to stay.”

“Then stay.” It was a simple statement on his part. You thought it was a little banter.

“I’d stay if I could Tubbo. But I gotta go.”

“You can’t go.”

“Yes I can, Tubbo. Now can you please unchain me, I gotta go.” You lift your ankle and shake it along with the chain for emphasis.

But Tubbo doesn’t even give it a look before answering. “You can’t leave.”

His actions are words are a bit worrying now, huh. This is just a silly prank. Any second now he’ll say it’s a joke and release you. Yeah, any moment now.

That moment never comes though.

“Come on now,” Tubbo starts to lead you back to the bed. “Get back in bed. You still look tired.”

“I’m not tired Tubbo,” your voice hardens to emphasise the fact that you really don’t need this shit right now. “Look I’m completely fine and I have to go. This joke isn’t funny anymore. Just unlock the fucking cuff and I’ll be on my way.”

You two stop at the bed and he gently ushers you in. Climbing on the bed to give you a hug. Struggling against him does no good. If anything, it just makes things worse. He just tightens his grip like a damn python. Wtf why is this kid so strong and clingy? This definitely isn’t a good combo.

“Look you aren’t fine. See?” He emphasizes his point by hugging you tighter. Which you don’t like and groan in protest. “You need to rest. It’s fine. You’re home.”

Internally you start to panic. Yo, hold up, what the hell is he talking about? You know damn well you ain’t home or agreed to stay here. So what does he think he’s doing?

There’s a cough from the doorway, and both you and Tubbo’s attention is diverted to the newcomer. At the threshold of the room is Ranboo. A platter loaded with food held between his hands. He looks awkward standing there. And you don’t blame him because you felt awkward just being in the hug. You couldn’t even imagine the embarrassment you’d get from walking in on this shit. When your eyes meet, he gives you a small, unsure smile.

Movement behind Ranboo catches your attention. You look behind Ranboo’s legs to see Micheal clinging onto Ranboo’s pants. He looked so happy. Well, happy being debatable and interpretive. He looked normal but he was making his little happy noises. Micheal bounded over to you, stretching his arms out while making the most adorable little oink noises. You look between Tubbo and Ranboo for any sign. Literally anything for them. But Tubbo just encourages you. So you pick up Micheal and hold him close to your chest.

Tubbo gives a cheer of joy while Ranboo joins in, though a little less enthusiastic. Still the fact he sounded genuinely happy about this situation was worrying. Especially since he knew what was going on. Knew how wrong it all was. Micheal had no idea. Happily oinking way in your lap and messing with your hands. Suddenly two sets of arms entangle themselves around you; pulling themselves toward you for a hug.

Looking down at Micheal, you now question if the backstory you were told about him was true. Was he actually found wandering around? Or was he kidnapped, just like you?

[forasecondtherewedwon]

Guest Side Story

Fandom: The Falcon and the Winter Soldier Pairing: Bucky Barnes/Sarah Wilson Rating: T Word Count: 3214

Summary: Sam told Bucky not to flirt with Sarah. But this is her house, so Bucky's pretty sure she makes the rules.

Bucky’s missed white lies. Ones that don’t hurt anybody.

“Is that cigarette smoke I smell on your coat, James Barnes?” “No, Ma. ’Course not.”

“And you’re sure this dame knows it’s my arm she’ll be on?” “Sure, Steve. She’s been after me to fix the two of you up for weeks.”

Stuff like that.

Past few years, Bucky’s either been transparent or a brick wall, all lies or all truth. Which one he loses more sleep over just depended on the day. The most human thing, he’s learning, is to work with a little of both: fact and fiction. Give something here, hold something back there. Lying doesn’t have to be mean-spirited and telling the truth doesn’t have to make him feel hollow and guilty. Maybe you can only realize this kinda thing when you find your way home, even if the home isn’t yours.

Bucky’s standing in the kitchen listening to Cass teach him how to fish. It’s purely theoretical, no gear involved, just the overexaggerated motion of Cass’s arm as he mimes casting. Laughing, Bucky lightly grabs the boy’s elbow before it can collide with the refrigerator on an especially big swing. Cass downsizes his demonstration without pausing the excited flow of his instructions.

AJ catches Bucky’s eye; from the look on his face, he’s beginning to suspect that Bucky might already know how to fish. While Cass is focused hard on his hands pretending to show how to fit live bait onto a hook, Bucky smiles at AJ over the smaller boy’s head and raises a finger to his lips. White lies. Let Cass believe he’s the expert.

When Cass is winding down, Bucky moves around him with a grin, carrying an empty plate to the sink.

“I got it!” AJ declares, whisking it from Bucky’s hand and pumping a squirt of dish soap in the center while his other hand runs the hot water.

Cass slotted the Pop-Tarts the plate lately held into the toaster for him (no better end-of-the-day snack, Bucky was told) and now AJ’s cleaning up. They’re a hospitable family, all day long. No phoniness, no insincere offers of help that they’re hoping Bucky won’t take them up on. He actually had to race the kids to the shed to store a toolbox earlier. On the boat, Bucky has room to put in the effort for the Wilsons, but inside the walls of their home he’s not allowed to do a damn thing because he’s a guest. Per square foot of property, he doesn’t think he’s ever been treated this well in someone else’s house.

“Fine,” Bucky concedes, “but I’m doing all the dishes tomorrow—breakfast, lunch, and dinner. And don’t get up early to drink a glass of orange juice and try to wash it before I’m awake, ’cause I’ll be listening.”

The boys giggle and Bucky leans against the counter, hovering while AJ hands the plate off for Cass to wipe dry and pretending not to listen to Sam and Sarah talking in the next room.

…But there isn’t a full wall separating the kitchen from the living room and Sam knows Bucky’s hearing’s good, right? He doesn’t think they’re discussing anything that private and if Sam’s annoyed with him later for what he supposes Bucky might’ve heard, Bucky’ll just offer up another white lie and swear he couldn’t hear a thing. And Sarah… Sarah wouldn’t think any worse of him if she knew. Bucky imagines she’d have a lot of compassion for his frequent urge to give Sam a hard time just for the hell of it. He flicks a quick glance over his shoulder, just to see her, and concentrates on what they’re saying, giving himself vague permission because he overheard his name.

“This was your idea,” Sarah’s saying. “You brought the stray cat home, just like when we were kids.”

“Don’t compare him to something cute,” Sam complains. Bucky’s mouth tenses to keep his smile from spreading too far.

“He is a guest in my home, Sam, and he’s more than earned it after the work he’s been putting in with the boat.”

“And what about the work you’ve been putting in watching him do that work?”

“Sam. Grow up.” Sarah’s voice is playful and Bucky almost turns, wondering what her expression looks like.

“So you’ve just been appreciating his skill with a wrench and some sandpaper,” Sam says skeptically.

“If I’m also appreciating his shoulders in that shirt— if—” she emphasizes when Sam tries to interrupt, “—it’s nobody’s business but mine.”

“Ok, you definitely can’t have him sleeping on the couch.”

“What do you think I’m gonna do? Try to sneak him to my bedroom after lights out? With you listening, trying to catch us? Uh uh. Your sister is a grown woman with two children, a home, and a boat she couldn’t manage to sell, and she can lust where she damn well pleases.”

Bucky snorts out a laugh and AJ gives him a funny look. Kid’s too perceptive.

“He’s tricky,” Sam lectures. “You can’t see it, but I do. I’ve been around him a hell of a lot more. You think he smiles like that at everybody? If he smiles at me at all, I gotta assume he just looked up and saw a meteor hurtling towards where we’re standing and is only smiling because we’ve got seconds to live and I won’t be able to tell anybody.”

“You are hilarious.”

“No, I’m not.”

“You’re telling me your friend is charming. That’s what you’re describing. Don’t I deserve to be charmed? Where else is he gonna sleep, huh? With you? In one of the boys’ little beds while they share the other one? Because I know you’re not suggesting we skip the pretense and put him right in with me.”

Sam lets out a noise of obvious frustration.

“Time to intervene,” Bucky tells Cass and AJ, leaving them to swap confused shrugs in the kitchen as he saunters into the living room.

“Hey,” Sam greets stonily, arms crossed over his chest.

Just for fun, Bucky decides to be all the friendlier.

“It’s so great of you to put me up. Thanks, Sarah. This beats a hotel by a mile.”

“Our gourmet kitchen does offer an impressive range of sugary cereal,” she jokes. “I might even cook you boys a special breakfast tomorrow before you head back to the dock.”

Bucky’s grin widens.

“Oh yeah? I wouldn’t wanna—”

“No, it’s no trouble—”

“Well, that would be—”

“Both of you stop it,” Sam orders.

“Sam, go outside,” Sarah orders right back. ��Play some tag with your nephews.”

“Sarah, I’m beat. We’ve been working on that boat all day.”

“Mhmm, you and the rest of the neighbourhood. You worked all day and you come home and there’s still two kids to entertain. But guess what?” She smiles deviously at her brother and throws a few fake punches at his stomach. “You’re Sam Wilson, the Falcon! Looks like you’re special after all. Me and Bucky here know you’ve still got some gas in the tank. Go on.”

Sam looks fairly planted to the spot as he glares from his sister to Bucky, but he eventually moves with a lurching step.

“I’m gonna be right outside,” he warns.

Bucky sidesteps out of his path and says nothing, though it’s hard to resist the instinct to egg him on.

“We’re gonna have a super-secret discussion about which towels he can use,” Sarah goads at her brother’s back.

Sam ignores her, corralling his nephews in the kitchen and guiding them out the door into the fading daylight with a hand on each of their narrow backs.

“Great kids,” Bucky observes.

Sarah nods, watching her family disappear, then turns to him.

“We’re not really gonna talk about towels.”

“No?”

Bucky’s eyebrows rise in surprise and delighted anticipation until Sarah grabs a folded blanket off the back of the couch and passes it to him.

“We’re making up the couch.”

“Oh.”

This is ok too. Actually, really nice, standing next to Sarah and unfolding the blanket as she stuffs a pillow into a clean case. Her eyes find his already on her and he swears he almost blushes; he’s been smoothing out the same crease in this blanket for a good thirty seconds with no result, just watching her easy movements, the way she flips her braids back when they fall forward over her shoulder.

“I hope you’re comfortable,” she says, lingering once they’re done.

“I woulda slept on the floor. A closet, even, like Harry Potter.”

“You read Harry Potter? Don’t tell the boys—they’ll be bugging you to play wizards with them.”

Bucky laughs and shakes his head.

“Nah, I just watched the movie.”

“Which one?”

“There’s more than one?”

“You really better not bring it up then,” Sarah advises. “They’d try to tell you everything at once.”

“Yeah, wouldn’t want to get in out of my depth.”

It feels like a significant look they exchange after his words. Bucky wants it to be—he thinks he does—but he feels awkward, romantically clumsy. Heartstrings tied together like shoelaces, waiting to trip him up. He’s been telling himself she’s only being kind, but after eavesdropping on her conversation with Sam, he knows she’s interested. In his shoulders at the very minimum. Was that right? His shoulders? Just in case, Bucky does his best to square them. Can’t hurt.

He’s fucking ecstatic when Sarah does glance down briefly, her gaze returning to his face with something flustered in it. Sure, she’s a mom and she runs a business, but it’s like she told Sam: she deserves to be charmed. Bucky’s not entirely sure he’s doing it right though.

“So,” she says, “Sam was just being a pain when he tried to convince me you can’t sleep on the couch because you’ve got a bad back, right?”

Bucky sighs but keeps smiling. It’s natural in her presence.

“I’d say that’s him making old-man jokes about me.”

“I apologize for my brother and his bad manners.”

“Ah, he’s not totally wrong,” he concedes, perching on the arm of the couch. “These last few birthdays have required more candles than you could fit on a cake.”

“Then you just have to get yourself a bigger cake.”

Bucky laughs.

“I guess optimism’s pretty much a family trait?”

“We work at it. They say you need to take the good with the bad, but they don’t tell you that means creating the good out of nothing a lot of the time, if you want any at all. The Wilsons worked that out some time ago, so we mostly do alright.”

“It’s a good feeling to be around,” he tells Sarah earnestly. Clearing his throat, he gets to his feet. “Feels good, being around you.”

“We’re… I’m happy you could stay with us.”

The light’s softened in the room and her voice has gone with it. Bucky shifts on his feet.

“It’s a pleasure to be here,” he assures her.

Sarah’s eyelashes flutter when she looks from his mouth to his eyes. Probably too try-hard to bite his lip now. God, Sam thinks Bucky’s so suave with Sarah, but it feels like he’s only got one move and it’s fucking smiling. Some Casanova he is. Sarah, meanwhile, is beautiful and authoritative and generous and moving closer to toss the pillow he’ll rest his head on tonight onto the couch.

“Anything else you need to be comfortable?” she asks, gaze slipping from one of his eyes to the other. “Another pillow? Pajamas?”

“I’ve got some, but…”

“But?”

Sarah gives him a questioning look and Bucky starts summoning the courage to make a move. He’ll touch her waist—no, take her hand. He’ll cup her sweet face so there’s no doubt what he means.

“But,” he picks up, “if I get cold in the night…”

There’s longing in her eyes, Bucky knows it, but Sam bangs in the screen door right then, one nephew squealing where he’s been slung over Sam’s shoulder.

“Well,” Sam announces loudly to the house at large, “that’s it! No more gas in the tank! Everybody get to bed!”

Sarah appears sorry as she steps back. Bucky almost reaches out to pull her in, to take another shot with another lousy line. Shit, he’s bad at this.

“There are more blankets in the hall closet,” she says, and slips away.

“Thank you,” he calls after her.

Sam walks past, Cass still dangling upside-down over his back while AJ runs ahead, and watches Bucky like a hawk (or some other bird of prey) as he digs through his overnight bag. What’s Sam expecting him to pull out? A strip of condoms? Bucky extracts a green toothbrush and holds it up with an expression of fake wonder. Sam rolls his eyes and heads off down the hall.

They are going to bed early, barely 9pm. That’s probably late for the kids though. Bucky’s pleasantly weary after a day outdoors, more working than talking, feeling like part of something as the Wilsons’ community came together to repair the boat. Seeing Sarah throughout. Flashing Bucky a smile while she spoke to a neighbour, grasping his outstretched hand to let him help her aboard so she could see their progress, checking Sam’s work like she’s his foreman while Bucky grinned and watched the siblings good-naturedly pick at each other. Sam was probably out like a light and Bucky should be too.

He’s not.

He can’t get to sleep right away, but it’s peaceful to lie here on the couch, on his back, while the house gets dark and darker. Sarah left the nearest window cracked for him and a gentle breeze washes in with the chirp of insects. Bucky’s already looking forward to being woken by the sun streaming through in the morning. It’d be good to get from now to daylight in a single stretch of sleep; that’s what he fantasizes about while he lies on his back: no nightmares. His head’s propped up by the pillow he tells himself smells like Sarah, though it probably just smells like her laundry soap.

It’s hard to put his finger on what’s missing, why he can’t fall asleep, until he hears the soft shuffle of footsteps on carpet. They’re too close together to be Sam’s—either hesitant or made by child-sized feet. Bucky cranes his neck around, expecting to see someone walk past on their way to the kitchen for a glass of water. His gaze roams over nothing for a minute, then he slumps back as the footsteps retreat. Maybe it was Sam after all, getting up to look in on his nephews or something. It’s the sorta thing Bucky would do if he were an uncle; he’d treasure the time with those kids, try to remember everything about his visit so he could hang on to it when he found himself half a world away, in Berlin or Riga or Madripoor.

He’s settling, trapping the blanket against his chest with a heavy hand, when he hears the footsteps approach again. Then back away seconds later. Slowly, Bucky starts to smile to himself. It’s Sarah. Can only be her. She’s either trying to psych herself up to come in here and talk to him and failing, or trying to resist venturing down the hall and succeeding.

On her next attempt, she gets closer, and Bucky sits up, kicking the blanket aside, and drops his feet to the floor in anticipation of her rounding the corner. He’s nervously gripping the couch cushion on either side of his knees when she does.

“You sneaking past Sam?” he asks quietly.

Sarah jumps, pressing a hand to her chest.

“You scared me. I wasn’t sure you’d be awake.”

Bucky shrugs, dreamily fixated on her smile. One of her neighbours turns on their porchlight and now Sarah can probably see his smile too.

“Couldn’t sleep,” he says.

“Shoot. Did you need something else?”

Kinda funny how she’s pretending she was coming out here for another reason and is just making a detour for him. He knows better, but he’s got enough remnants of being a gentleman not to call her out on it.

“Nah. It’s nothing to do with you.” Bucky stares at her a few seconds and changes his mind. “You know what? Actually, it is you.”

“What is?” Sarah asks with a hushed, confused laugh.

“The reason I can’t get to sleep. Sarah…”

But she smiles and does what he did to the boys earlier—holds a finger to her lips.

With the confidence of a woman at ease in her own home and her own body, she steps forward. She wore a yellow t-shirt today, but the one she wears now is pale pink. It’s loose and worn and reveals the strong, elegant curve of her shoulder when she moves and it slips. Gazing up at her, Bucky shifts until he feels the back of the couch. His hands hover in the air as Sarah digs one knee, then the other, into the cushion on either side of him. She lowers herself onto his thighs.

Moving slow like the hour, deep like the black sky, Bucky runs his hands up her back.

Sarah’s palms land on his shoulders and, smiling, she confesses to him, “I like these.”

He’s smirking when she ducks her head to kiss him.

Now that he has her here—on his lap, in his arms—Bucky forgets every way he wanted to touch her earlier. How he was gonna woo her with tender contact applied just right. Well, thank god for Sarah. She sets the pace of the kiss and, when his hands go still at her upper back, reaches around to bring one of them back down to her waist. He can feel that there’s no bra beneath her shirt.

“Rusty,” he breathes when their mouths slide apart.

“You were on that old boat all day,” she reminds him. “You know I’ve got patience for rusty.”

Still, Bucky wants to do a little better, prove that maybe he’s what she had in mind when she decided he was worth smiling at. He cradles Sarah closer, pulling her in, dipping his fingers into the valley of her spine when she arches into him. They kiss firmer, then faster. At her quick nod of encouragement, he moves his hands to her hips. Lower.

“Sarah?” Sam slurs sleepily from down the hall. “You outta bed?”

Sarah presses a hand to Bucky’s chest and pushes off his lap, other hand over her mouth to muffle her laughter. He chuckles too.

“As the Falcon, timing is one of his greatest strengths.”

“And as his sister,” Sarah counters, “it gets on my last nerve.”

“Well, I didn’t wanna say that, but…” Bucky grins.

“Sarah?” Sam calls out again.

She sighs.

“Is he trying to wake the boys?” She takes a step away from the couch, wearing a regretful smile. “I better go.”

Bucky catches himself before he can blurt out I’ll miss you. Overeager fool.

“See you in the morning?” Sarah checks, something shy about her now, but not in a bad way. Cautiously hopeful, Bucky thinks. He’s been feeling that way himself.

He gives her one more smile for the road.

“You bet.”

[caiuscassiuss]

oppa! | ot7 (I)

Description: Being raised by a caring yet distant father, a close, tight-knit family is the one thing you have craved in your short life. After your adventurer father remarries a rich woman, you’re stuck with seven new brothers. Seven very hot, very different men. This is not what you meant by family.

Arc 1: Stepbrother Introductions

Genre: OT7 x Female!Reader | Brother’s Conflict AU | stepbrother au | fluff | slice of life (For this chapter: PG 13) WC: 15k Warnings: swearing, dub-con (??). In later chapters there will be explicit mentions of depression, panic attacks, thoughts of suicide, self harm, and graphic smut.

Chapter 1: Enter the Oldest Type, Jin!

Fiddling with the charm on your phone, you looked down at the blue text bubble that spelled out the address of what might possibly be your home for the next few years.

You had googled the place as soon as you got home, expecting it to be a random apartment somewhere and boy oh boy, you were wrong. First, the house (not apartment) was on the outskirts of Seoul, on one of the hilly inclines overlooking the Han River. Second, the place where it was located was expensive.

Your eyes nearly bulged out of your head when you saw the housing prices of properties nearby on this popular real estate app. Sure, your father was a celebrity adventurer with his own cable show and so you were used to a certain amount of comfort, but this type of wealth was way beyond your league. Who was this woman that your father married, Jesus Christ?

On the Google streets view (you swear you aren’t weird), you saw the place had at least 2 gates to get through and your father hadn’t told you of any code or given you any pass to get through. You had a feeling if you tried to go in there blind, you would be immediately detained by the police.

Biting your lip, you paced on the fluffy carpet that felt like a dream. Your father was gallivanting off in some remote corner of Nigeria, so he was bound to have no cell service there. You knew no one in the family— much less how to contact them so you could meet up for a coffee or something. It would seem rude not to do something…

Your apartment doorbell buzzed throughout your apartment. Folding your arms over your chest, you shivered as you walked towards the doorway. You had turned up the Air Conditioner too high to ward off the muggy Seoul heat and now it was freezing inside your apartment.

“Hello?” you asked in to the intercom.

“Hi, is this Y/N?” a masculine voice asked at the other end.

You frowned and shifted your weight on your other leg. You don’t recall expecting any guests today.

“Excuse me?” the man asked again after you refused to respond.

“Hi, sorry, who is calling?” you said politely.

“I’m Seokjin, Seoyeon’s son. I’m your, uh, new brother?” he said haltingly, his voice raised at the end.

Gasping softly, you felt your mind pile up with questions and questions until it was spinning. How did he get here? How did you know who you are?

“Oh! Uh, yeah, please come on up.”

You pressed the button to allow the elevator to go to your location and you heard a bright “Thank you!” before the intercom shut off.

You zoomed around your apartment like a psychopath, picking up spare pieces of clothing and putting the dishes in the dishwasher. Your apartment reeked of mild depression, suppressed anxiety, and the beginnings of an unhealthy reliance on take out and that was not the first impression you wanted your newfound brother to have of you.

Putting your hands on your hips, you scanned the now clean apartment. It looked like a moderately adjusted human lived here.

Good timing indeed, as your buzzer sharply rang throughout the apartment. Taking a deep breath, you grasped the door handle and pulled it open.

Your lungs really said “Bye, sister!” and decided to quit working as soon as you saw this man. You couldn’t breath because standing in front of you was one of the most beautiful men you have ever seen in your life.

He was tall, taking up the entire doorway with his height. A dash of neatly groomed, brown hair graced the top of his small head and big eyes peered at you curiously above a strong nose and a pair of big, pouty lips the color of strawberries.

The second thing you noticed about him after his overwhelming beauty was his navy scrubs and the large badge attached to his pocket that read “Kim Seokjin; Pediatric Doctor at Seoul National University Pediatric Group”. You’ve seen people in scrubs and they were, favorably said, unflattering but on this man… he looked like he stepped out of a catalogue.

“You’re Y/N, right?”

Speechless, you nodded.

His entire face lit up with a grin. “Oh, that’s a relief. It’s fantastic to meet you, I’m Kim Seokjin. You can call me Jin though.”

Your voice decided to be nice and start working. You held out a hand and he reciprocated with a handshake. “Hi, I’m Y/N. It’s really nice to meet you. Please, do come in.”

He took off his sturdy shoes politely at the doorway and you retreated further into the hallway of your apartment.

You shivered again through your thin top and crossed your arms. God, you were going to have to raise the temperature. It felt like a fridge in here.

Jin turned around with a smile on his face before his eyes went wide. His eyes flickered down your body and quickly flickered back up to your face.

“I’m sorry if this is a bit sudden,” he started, red climbing up his neck and rising up to his cheeks. “I—” His eyes flicked down again before staying resolutely at your face, despite his very red cheeks.

Did you have a stain on your pants or something? You cast your eyes down at yourself and—

Oh.

Your very regrettable decision of turning your A/C up resulted in stiff nipples poking out from your thin top. To make matters worse, your crossed arms emphasized your breasts.

You felt yourself going red as an unflattering squeak left your mouth. Pulling a cardigan from behind the couch (there goes your good first impression), you quickly threaded your arms through the sleeves and covered your chest.

“I am so sorry—”

“It’s alright!” he said, his voice unwieldy. Jin’s eyes widened again as he realized the meaning of his words. “No! I mean— ugh,” he groaned, burying his face in his hands.

You giggled as you saw his mature composure crack in front of you. 

“I must seem like a pervert,” Jin groaned. “Here I was, hoping to come off as a cool older brother, and I just,” he shook his head. “Forgive me.”

The awkwardness defused, you laughed again, ultra conscious of your chest. “Please don’t worry about it! I had hoped to make a good first impression as well but look at me! Pulling clothing out of furniture.”

He snorted and you both started laughing, filling up your once silent apartment with sound. 

As the laughter died down, you offered him a seat on your couch. He gladly took the invitation, throwing in a joke about being on his feet all day.

“Yeah, I’m sorry to barge in all of the sudden. I didn’t have your contact information— only your address and I realized that you had no way to get to our house. So, here I am,” he grinned, eyes forming cute half crescents.

“I actually have to thank you for it,” you said, setting down a glass of water in front of him. “I was thinking of going to your house myself but I saw the security around it and I knew I’d probably get detained or something.”

“Well, it’s good that it all lined up so well,” Jin commented. “I better introduce myself, don’t I? I’m just a pediatric doctor with the SNU pediatric group and 26— the oldest of all of us. I was born in Gwacheon and moved to Seoul to attend university.”

You smiled softly, despite your unease at his use of the word “just”. “A pediatric doctor? That’s very nice. What made you want to be a doctor?”

Jin’s smile grew strained and you saw his broad shoulders tense up. 

Feeling like you wanted to hit yourself over the head, you threw out your hands in apology. “I didn’t mean to—”

He shook his head. “Please, don’t worry about it. It’s a common question. I chose this specific profession over the OR or surgery because, as a child, I knew someone who was injured a lot and I couldn’t help them at all.” He grimaced, but pasted on a very good smile. His eyes were crinkled at the edges, his head tilted upwards, but you could see through it. “Now I can, yeah?”

“I get what you mean,” you said sympathetically. You were often sick as a child too, and it was… difficult, when your father was off scampering across half the world. 

Jin straightened up in his seat and lost that faraway look in his eyes, zeroing in on you. “What about you, Y/N? You’re college-age, yeah?”

“Yes, I’m 21 and attend Yonsei University as a junior. Although it’s not as exciting as wanting to be a doctor, I want to be a counselor one day,” you told him, your eyes cast down “I want to help people.”

“That’s really admirable, Y/N. If you ever need any help getting an internship or opportunity, I know some counselors and I’d be more than happy to facilitate a meeting,” Jin smiled warmly at you.

A blush infused your cheeks. “I, ah, thank you. I actually work as an operator on Crisis hotline right now, but I’ll definitely need all the help I can get.”

“Of course! You’re my cute younger sister now.”

“I’ve never had a sibling, I’m very excited to have seven older brothers now,” you grinned.

“Yeah! About that,” he coughed awkwardly, “— are you considering moving in with us? Your father told my mother that you would be moving, but I wasn’t sure if you were completely willing?”

You nodded. “I’m considering it. I’d like to meet everyone first, however. Just to get used to your personalities.”

“Completely understandable, all seven of us can be,” he paused, “—a lot. However, if you’re up for meeting a few of us, I can take you to our house for a visit. I can drop you back and everything.”

“That’d be lovely.”

He waited patiently for you as you locked the door to your apartment, carefully watching you as you stepped into the elevator.

“Where did you park?” you asked, craning your head upwards to look at him. “I hope you weren’t forced to park on the street, it can be very expensive.”

He shook his head. “I found the visitor parking, it’s all good.”

The doctor led you through the underground parking, weaving through cars and concrete beams with ease until you stopped in front of a bright white car with a silver trident in the middle of its grill. Eyes wide, you knew what this car was. Your dad had admired Maseratis for the longest time, and this one looked to be very new.

Jin gestured to the white Maserati, looking unfairly suave in his scrubs and next to his fancy car. “Hop in.”

Next Chapter: Press [ X ] for the Mature Type, Namjoon! 

Chapter 2: Enter the Mature Type, Namjoon!

Jin was a model driver, driving carefully on the streets of Seoul. He looked both ways before crossing an intersection and took slow turns. However, it amused you how he hissed at the console as it beeped to warn him if there was a car or curb too close to him.

However, as you looked out the window, the streets got quieter and the houses a whole lot bigger as you crossed into a residential part of Seoul. You were driving parallel to the Han River, and you saw many people doing water activities or boating to cool off in the hot September weather.

Jin slowed down as you entered an avenue lined by trees and you could see a guardhouse at the end of the picturesque street. However, the two of you avoided the guardhouse completely and took what was presumably the resident’s entrance, where he passed by easily with a scan of a barcode on his tire.

“Do you drive, Y/N?” Jin asked, one elbow resting casually on his open window and the other on his lap.

“No, I never really had time to learn.” More like you never had someone to teach you.

“Okay, so we’ll just need a resident pass for you,” Jin muttered to himself, eyes focused on the street.

He drove through large, green spaces with the occasional building speckling the landscape. You gripped your purse harder. Green spaces unencumbered by large buildings blocking the view were rare in Seoul, the cost of natural land so astronomically high only wealthy business people or very famous celebrities being able to afford places like this. You gulped. Their family was definitely out of your league.

The car stopped in front of a very modern looking townhouse and the garage opened, Jin driving into what seemed to be a much more expansive parking garage under the house. However, instead of boring concrete and fluorescent lighting, sandy colored marble and warm lighting lit the space as you descended through the underground.

Biting your lip as Jin backed in his car easily with just one hand steering the wheel, defined forearms catching your attention, you mentally smacked yourself. He’s your brother, for god’s sake!

You froze up as the doors started to lift up like wings on a butterfly, but relaxed. This level of wealth would definitely take some time to get used to.

He placed a warm palm on your shoulder, his fingertips reaching your collarbones, as he guided you to the entrance, up the dimly lit stairs and to a large, wooden door.

“I wish I could’ve taken you through the front door since it’s much more impressive,” he sighed, and pushed the wooden door open with a thumbprint scanner. “However, welcome to our humble abode.”

An abode it was, but humble was it not. You were only on the ground floor, but the ceilings were very high and you were surrounded by many floor-to-ceiling windows. The main theme of the building was warm marble and dark, rich wood with jewel tones interspersed between.

“Woah,” you breathed out. “You guys have a lot of space.”

“Yeah, “ Jin grimaced. “We kind of need it when some of us like to roughhouse and tend to break things.”

You laughed as he then guided you towards a spacious living room, a large window overlooking the Han River and greenery.

“Sit tight, I’ll get us something to drink,” Jin said, his voice getting fainter as he strode to a room off the massive living room.

Ankles crossed together, you peered at the large room. At first, it looked neat. Everything was in its place and perfectly coordinated by the eye of an expert designer. However, you could see the signs the place was well-lived in. The wear-and-tear of the orange and beige blanket emblazoned with an H that was thrown over the chair of the couch, the mess of wires from various gaming consoles, and even the small depressions on the pillows. 

A shelf of colorful books framed the huge TV and you stood up, perusing them. You expected the books to be typical, non-offensive living room books with dust on the covers but to your surprise, the books on the shelves were well loved with their cracked spines and rounded edges. Tracing over your fingers over the books you whispered the titles to yourself.

Candide, Crime and Punishment, The Metamorphosis…

“I’m sorry, but who are you?”

A deep voice echoed behind you and you jumped in surprise. Whirling around you saw another tall man with neat ash blond hair, glasses neatly perched on his straight nose with a pair of fierce eyes peering out from behind the frames. His charcoal suit was well-fitted to his body and his build reminded you of a tiger; sinewous muscles cording his arms, back, and thighs and tensed, ready to jump into action.

A nervous smile crawled up your lips. “I’m Y/N L/N. Are you one of my new brothers?”

The man relaxed minutely but the fierceness of his eyes did not subside. “I am. I’m Kim Namjoon, it’s a pleasure to meet you Y/N.”

He strode across the room in long, confident strides and took your hand. His handshake was strong and you tightened your grip in response, narrowing your eyes at him. His right eyebrow quirked, but he said nothing as he turned his attention to the bookshelf.

“So, what caught your attention here?” He murmured, tenor voice traveling the length of your spine and stroking your sensitive skin. “Is it… this?”

He pulled out a copy of Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen, obviously less worn than the rest.

A smirk tugged at your lips. “No, not that one.”

He stared at you longer, before crossing his arms over his powerful chest. “Oh? Enlighten me, then.”

With nimble fingers, you pulled out a red, slim novel and handed it to him. You carefully tracked his reaction as he took it from your hands, face and eyes saying nothing. He ran a thumb over the agonized face on the cover, and you felt a shiver go down your arm at the sheer sensuousness of it.

“Clockwork Orange,” he breathed out. “Interesting. Are you a Lit Major?”

You continued to stare at the bookshelf, feeling his eyes boring holes into your face. “No, I’m not. I’m majoring in psychology.”

He hummed, eyes tracing the rough artwork of the novel’s cover. “I liked psychology, but at that point I was already double-majoring. I majored in philosophy and business, which are not as different than they seem.”

“Are you out of university, then?” you asked, trying to keep your tone casual.

Namjoon nodded affirmatively. “I’m 24, but I matriculated at SNU when I was 18. I run a conglomerate group now.”

Trying to keep your mouth from falling open in shock— what kind of twenty something year old owned a large business, much less a conglomerate— you nodded coolly.

“Given or made?” you questioned, an edge in your voice. Something about Namjoon made you want to test him, to prod at him constantly.

His fierce eyes turned to you and they blazed. 

“Made.”

Your lips lifted upwards, minutely, until you heard a clinking of glasses.

“Y/N? Sister-dearest? I got you— oh!”

Jin stopped in shock at the sight of you two seemingly huddled together in front of the book case.

“Do you two know each other?” Jin asked, absolutely bemused, as he set down a pitcher and some glasses on the coffee table.

“We don’t,” Namjoon answered. “However,” he wrapped an arm around your shoulders, “—I can see we’ll get along nicely.”

You did not get the same impression, but you digressed. He was one of your brothers now. Another factor was that one of his biceps, even though it was hidden inside his suit jacket, looked like it could strangle you.

Jin continued to stare in suspicion, before shrugging his wide shoulders and settling down on the couch.

“So what were you chatting about then?”

“A couple of books I had on the shelf. Y/N has some interesting taste,” Namjoon commented.

Jin snorted into his water with lemon. “Oh, ew, now I have two bookworms as siblings? Reading was the worst part of university. I liked all the practical stuff.”

“Sometimes I can’t believe that rational parents would let you near their kids,” Namjoon retorted, helping himself to a glass.

“And I can’t believe some women come near you,” Seokjin replied heatedly.

The two of them stared at each other seriously before breaking out in guffaws, hiding your expression behind your glass of water. This was such a weird dynamic and it was only two of them. Well, the best you could do was adapt the situation.

Just like you always had.

Next Chapter: Press [ X ] for the Rough Type, Jungkook! 

Chapter 3: Enter the Rough Type, Jungkook!

As the three of you chatted about yourselves (apparently, some of the brothers were biologically Seoyeon’s children or were adopted), Jin’s eye caught the clock behind you and his eyes widened.

“Oh dear, it’s almost 6 o’clock,” Jin fretted, leaping up from the couch. “Everyone should be arriving home soon– excuse me,” he said as he retreated into the kitchen.

“Ah, I guess that means I should get going,” you said apologetically to Namjoon, standing up and straightening your ruffled skirt.

“Please, stay for dinner,” Namjoon smiled, gesturing for you to take a seat.

“Yeah, Y/N, stay for dinner!” Jin yelled from the kitchen.

“I mean, if you’re sure…” you trailed off, hoping you could stay. You felt too lazy to cook for yourself tonight.

“Please do, we hope to see you a lot more around here,” Namjoon said, warm smiling at you.

The security system dinged, signalling a door had opened within the house. Namjoon’s ears perked up.

His eyes flew towards the doorway. “That must be Taehyung or Jungkook, coming in. They’re usually the first to arrive.”

You wondered why both of those names seemed familiar and a heavy door slammed shut.

“Jungkook-ah! Your new sister is here! Come and greet her, you punk!”

The footsteps thud to a halt at the foot of the steps and you spin around in your seat.

In the hallway, a buff man in a loose-fitting white t-shirt and grey joggers stood in front of you. In almost humorous contrast to his hulking, muscled body, the cutest face with big eyes and pouty lips you have seen peered at you.

He looked familiar to you and you bit your lip, trying to figure out where you had seen him. Oh wait! Charger guy!

“Jungkook! You’re in my Calculus class, right?”

“Yeah…” he whispered, looking at you like he saw a ghost.

“It’s so funny that you’re here. It’s nice to meet you as my brother,” you grinned at him, tilting your head to the side.

He nodded mindlessly, frozen at his spot in the hallway.

“Jungkook? Are you good?” you prodded.

Namjoon snorted as he kept on typing into his phone. “Jungkook can’t speak to girls, so he gets frozen like this from time to time. Hyung, you fix him.”

“I’m cooking, you dolt!”

“And I’m trying to earn money so I can provide the food. Go.”

Jin shot you a look, as if exclaiming “look at how I’m treated around here!”, and dusted off his hands. Striding over to a frozen Jungkook, Jin poked Jungkook’s very built chest.

Jungkook still didn’t move and Jin pursed his lips. He poked him again. “Yah! Why aren’t you working?!”

The youngest brother broke out from his trance and looked at Jin seriously. 

“No.”

“Pardon?” you asked, wondering if you misheard.

“No.” Jungkook shook his mass of black, shaggy hair and ran a tattooed hand through it, looking in disbelief at the ground. “No, no, no, no, no no.”

Your slight smile is frozen on your face and you feel your shoulders tense up and, nervously, you look to Jin.

“Jungkook—“

“Fuck!” He threw his hands in the air. Jungkook pointed a finger at you, a line creasing at his forehead. “I did not sign up for this! Fuck!” 

Spinning around, he marched back into the hall and you could see the powerful muscles in his back tense through his thin t-shirt.

“Well…”

Jin, with his hands rubbing his temples, sighed heavily and deflated at the counter. “God, I’m sorry about that Y/N. I don’t know why Jungkookie is acting like that; he’s normally really amiable and nice.”

You laugh softly, trying to defuse the awkward tension that had settled around the kitchen. “Jin-ssi, please don’t worry about it. It’s a huge shift in his life and some people are going to take it harder than others. It’ll take some time, but I’m sure he’ll get used to me being his sister.”

Namjoon scrutinized you with hooded eyes. “You’re very kind. I hope my brothers don’t take advantage of it.”

Your grin cracked a bit. “We’re family. I don’t mind.”

—————

Jungkook would not come down from his room, despite the hilarious mix of threats, blackmail, and aegyo Jin tried to coerce him down with.

You could hear Jin rapid-fire lecturing Jungkook outside Jungkook’s bedroom door and Namjoon sighed, his temples in his hands. 

“Hyung, just give up. The kid’s being moody again.”

Jin acquiesced with ill grace, throwing in a last good “You punk!” up the stairs. He stomped down the carpeted stair well, retying his apron and set to reheat many of the things.

“See if I feed him tonight, that ungrateful brat…” Jin hissed, moodily chopping some screen onions.

Namjoon leaned towards you and beckoned your ear towards his and you obeyed, curious. His scent wafted towards you, yet was not as punchy as a normal cologne. It was subtle and musky, carrying notes of old books and bergamot. Perhaps it was a lotion?

“Jin says that all the time, but will leave him leftovers anyways,” Namjoon whispered into your ear, making you unconsciously shiver. “He’s too much of a pushover.”

You snorted as Jin came out of the kitchen with a dish in hands. “Yah, what was that, Namjoon?”

“Just commenting on how good your food is, hyung,” Namjoon replied coolly and leaning away from you.

Jin glanced suspiciously at Namjoon, before setting down the dish. You gasped, immediately getting to your feet.

“Oh, I’ve been such a rude guest! Can I help in any way? Set out the dishes or something?”

The apron-clad doctor clutched his heart, and wailed, “Look! My cute dongsaeng! Finally, a member of this household that is kind and offers to do their part!” Jin’s voice got progressively louder as he directed his voice up the stairs.

You muffled your laugh with a cough, and turned to Jin again. “Jin-ssi?”

Jin shook his head, clicking his tongue as he directed you to stay in your seat. “No, sweetheart, you’re a guest. Joonie-ah, set out the plates.”

Namjoon got up to get the plates, but as he did, his phone buzzed. Namjoon’s forehead creased as he looked at whatever was on his screen.

“Hyung, Taehyung-ah won’t be here today. Apparently his shoot on Jeju is lasting over night.”

Jin sighed, bustling around the kitchen. “How about Hoseok? Yoongi? I know Chimmy is out of the country right now.”

Taehyung, Hoseok, Yoongi, Chimmy, you memorized in your head. These were the four brothers you had yet to meet.

Namjoon snorted and put down the silverware, forks and spoons tinkling brightly. “You know Yoongi— he’s like a stray cat. He’ll be here when he wants. As for Hoseok, I think he might’ve just fallen asleep at the studio.”

“I’m sorry Y/N, I wish I could’ve introduced you to our other brothers,” Jin apologized. “Now, you’re just stuck with us two grandpas.”

You shook your head. “I’m just happy I could have dinner with you guys. Thank you for inviting me over.”

Jin watched you with a fond smile and Namjoon contemplated you carefully again.

Everything was set out and the three of you dug into Jin’s delicious food.

“Jin-ssi, this is very good. Your food tastes delicious. Did you put brown sugar into the sauce? It really rounds out the taste,” you complimented.

“I haven’t heard a compliment from these ungrateful brats about my cooking for 10 years,” Jin sighed dramatically. “Such a cute dongsaeng.”

Namjoon shook his head at Jin’s immature antics. “I might as well introduce you to Jungkook, since he elected not to do it himself.”

“You seemed to know him from university, yes?” Jin asked.

Nodding, you dabbed your mouth with a napkin. “I know of him, yes. He’s in my calculus class? Although, I feel like I might’ve had him in some of my core curriculum classes.”

“Jungkook is at Yonsei for a technology degree, although at first he was reluctant to go to university,” Namjoon revealed. “He wanted to be a Pro-Gamer and streamer full-time, but Seoyeon, Hyung, and I convinced him to get a degree.”

“He chose technology because he wants to combine his passion for gaming and technology into something in the future,” Jin continued, taking a sip of his water.

“That’s a very smart move of his,” you said politely. You wondered why Namjoon referred to his mother as ‘Seoyeon’. Maybe he was one of the adopted ones?

“That brat upstairs might look like he just screams at the monitor and works out, but he’s much more,” Namjoon reflected.

———- 

When you were cleaning up, you felt bad that Jungkook hadn’t had dinner yet. That man must need like four square meals a day and tons of snacks to keep up his bulk.

“Jin-ssi, Namjoon-ssi, I’m going to deliver some food to Jungkook. He must be hungry,” you called out, scraping some of the food onto a plate.

“You don’t have too, Y/N, he usually sneaks down to get something from the fridge,” Namjoon said as he typed furiously on his phone.

“Don’t worry about it, I want to help him,” you grinned, climbing up the stairs.

Namjoon mumbled something suspiciously like, “You’re too kind for your own good” but you had already gotten to the second landing. Stopping in front of Jungkook’s door, you knocked.

“Jungkook-ssi?” you said when no one responded. “You must be a bit hungry, so I just got a plate together for you.”

Complete radio silence. 

Exhaling sharply through your nostrils, you pouted and bent down to set down the plate next to his doorway.

“Well, if you change your mind, I put it next to your door. I’ll be going now!”

You strode down the hallway, making sure your footsteps trailed off. You hid behind a corner, making sure to conceal yourself completely.

After waiting a few minutes, you were sure he wasn’t going to come out  but his door clicked open and Jungkook emerged in a grey-blue hoodie. He took a surreptitious glance around the hallway before his eyes found you behind the corner.

Blushing, you decided to wave at him. To your surprise, instead of scowling or ignoring you completely, Jungkook’s face turned tomato red as he hurriedly gathered up the plate and slammed his door.

You scratched your head. Maybe he was shy or something.

Next Chapter: Press [ X ] for the Bright Type, Hoseok! 

Chapter 5: Enter the Bright Type, Hoseok!

“So, how were your brothers? Nice? Weird? Ugly?” Hyerim pestered as you walked by the subway.

You bit your lip. “Um, really different?”

Hyerim fixed you a look.

“Okay, so I met three out of the seven yesterday. The oldest one— his name is Seokjin, but I call him Jin— is 26 and he’s a pediatric doctor. The other one—”

“Wait, Seokjin?” Your friend squinted at you. “Does he happen to work at SNU Pediatric Group?”

Blinking, you turned to her. “Yeah? How the hell did you know that?”

Hyerim let out a half strangled scream as you stepped down the stairs of the station. You were instantly surrounded by dozens of power blue ads with a purple suit-clad man in the middle, perhaps in the middle of a hip trust, all reading Happy Birthday in aesthetic cursive.

“Hoe! He’s my brother’s fucking doctor, I can’t believe this!”

Your eyebrows nearly touched your forehead. “Shit, really?”

“Yes! Holy shit, did you not listen to me complaining to you about how hot he was? And now he’s your fucking brother? The star must’ve aligned for me! This must mean the rest of the brothers are good looking!” Hyerim squealed.

“Does Jongin not exist anymore?” you asked as you both swiped your subway passes.

“Shhh, just because I’m off the market doesn’t mean I don’t get to look,” she giggled, her pony tail swishing back and forth.

You shook your head, amused at her antics, and continued.

“Anyways, the other brother I met is some fancy-schmancy businessman. Namjoon-ssi is 25? 24? He’s older than me but graduated from college when he was just 18.”

Hyerim’s eyes took on a perverted light and she simpered underneath her hand. “Oh? Am I hearing of sugar daddy material?”

You squawked and hit her shoulder. “Hyerim, stop! These are my brothers, not matches on Tinder!”

“I don’t care, you need a boyfriend— even if it’s a secret and taboo one,” Hyerim said, pushing her hair off her shoulder.

Rolling your eyes, you sat down in a seat next to her. “Anyways, the boys invited me to dinner again tonight in hopes we’ll catch more of the boys in the house. Jin-ssi says trying to get them all in one place is like waiting for a blue moon— it’s very rare.”

“So are you going straight there or going home to change?”

Shaking your head, you gestured at a laminated white pass in your hands. “I wanted to get there early today so I can go home early. Jin-ssi drove me home last night and I don’t want him to be caught in rush hour traffic again.”

Hyerim peered at the pass in your hands. “Hannam the Hill? Hey, doesn’t Han Hyo-joo live there? The actress from Brilliant Legacy?”

Shrugging your shoulders, you leaned into the hard plastic seat. “I don’t know. Probably? All I know is that the place where they live is very ritzy and takes like two security gates to get into.”

“Okay, they’re all sugar daddy material then,” Hyerim commented. She ducked to avoid a hit over the head and you huffed, crossing your arms.

“Stop, they all do pretty well for themselves and I heard my stepmother is some fancy businesswoman from a well-to-do family. They’re just my family now.”

“The train is approaching Yangwon station. I repeat the train is approaching Yangwon station,” the bright voice announced over the intercom.

“Oh, that’s my stop,” you remembered. 

“Wait, you said you met another brother. Who is he?” Hyerim asked as she patted her nose with a compact.

The train slowed to a stop and you got up.

“My other brother is Jungkook. The one from our Calculus class? The streamer?”

Smirking, you dramatically walked away and heard Hyerim’s shriek of disbelief as you stepped onto the train platform.

————— 

“I’m sorry, what?” you asked the guard in disbelief.

“I’m sorry ma’am, but your visitor pass has expired,” the security guard said calmly, eyes scanning you detachedly. Like you were another crazy female.

You were going to kill Jin. Forget his awesome jajamyeon, you’ll bitch-slap both him and Namjoon into another dimension.

“Are you sure you can’t just let me in? Like, call the house or something,” you asked desperately, hands crumpling the visitor pass.

The guard looked like he desperately wanted to roll his eyes, but he picked up his corded phone.

“Building 10, yes?” he asked boredly.

“Yes.”

He waited for the call to be picked up but after several rings, no one picked up.

“Apologies ma’am, but no one appears to be at the house. If you’re done, I’d like to ask you to leave and come back later,” the man said with an air of finality, and turned back to his station and looked at the 6 monitors surrounding his desk.

Your mouth open, you were aghast at his lack of sympathy. He could’ve at least offered for you to let you wait! It was nearing sun down and the boys had invited you to dinner again, and it would be rude to be late.

You don’t even know why they needed this much security. Sure, Namjoon was the CEO of a large conglomeration but wasn’t as high profile as Samsung’s chairman or someone crazy like that. It wasn’t like one of your brothers was a high-profile celebrity, right?

Standing on the sidewalk and looking like an idiot, you decided to call one of your damn brothers. Huffing, you flipped open your phone and selected Jin’s contact. After several rings, the call picked up.

“Y/N?”

“Hi Jin-ssi, sorry to bother you right now. I’m sure you’re busy right now,” you apologized, accidentally meeting eyes with the security guard who stared at you suspiciously.

“You’re fine! Is everything alright?” Jin asked, his voice tinged by concern.

You bit your lip as the security guard raised an eyebrow and picked up his phone, his eyes not letting go of you the entire time.

“I’m trying to get to the house, but the guard told me the visitor pass expired,” you explained, breath hitching as the guard spoke rapidly into the phone.

Jin swore over the phone, the sound muffled as he moved his phone away from his face.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N, Namjoon and I were so sure it was still active. Sit tight wherever you are, I’m texting one of the boys to get you through the gate. Hoseok is about a few minutes away from you.”

“Um, I don’t mean to rush,” you said, eyes widening as the man gestured to get out of the guardhouse, “— but I think the guard is about to detain me.”

“Goddamn security,” Jin hissed. “I’m calling the guard office right now, I am so sorry.”

He hung up and the guard continued to advance towards you, and you grasped your phone a bit tighter. The summer humidity suddenly pressed into your skin, slipped between your waistband and collar to make you sweat. Your eyes flickered to the station. No one was in the guard office to take Jin’s call so you steeled for yourself for what was about to be an ugly confrontation.

“Ma’am, I firmly ask you to leave the premises before I am forced to—”

“Y/N!”

The guard and you turned in the direction of the sound, and you saw a man in a bright yellow windbreaker and black sport shorts somehow jogging towards you in socks and sandals.

“Y/N,” he said, out of breath, as he stopped in front of you and the security guard. He held out a hand as he put his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath.

“Hoseok-nim,” the guard bowed in respect, “Do you perhaps know this young lady?”

You got a good glimpse of him as he lifted his head and tennis cap. He pulled down his white mask and you saw his pointed nose, unfairly smooth skin, and sharp chin. You sobbed inwardly. Did all of your brothers miraculously get the luckiest scratch off tickets for the genetic jackpot? The man grinned at you and nodded in affirmative at the guard.

“Yes, I do,” Hoseok said, straightening up.

“I’m sorry, the young lady did not have the proper credentials to enter. My apologies.” The guard continued, speaking to Hoseok as if you did not exist.

Hoseok’s happy expression vanished and his brows furrowed. “Please, don’t apologize to me. My sister looked frightened. My brothers and I would appreciate it if you treated her a bit more politely.”

You hadn’t even noticed how frightened you were as you felt a drop of sweat roll down your temple and the shivers stop.

“I apologize, young lady,” the security guard said, taking off his cap and bowing politely. You smiled tightly and accepted with grace, gesturing for him to get up.

“That being said, we haven’t had time to get her resident pass processed. I’d like to add her to a list of visitors so a mix-up like this will not happen again,” Hoseok said seriously, staring down the security guard underneath his tennis logo cap and eccentric outfit. It almost put a smile to your lips, to see a beefy man in a suit and tie nearly cower under a boy at least half his age and centimeters shorter than him.

“Of course. Hoseok-nim, young lady,” he bowed, and the security guard scurried towards the office.

Hoseok turned towards you and his face brightened, rounded cheeks pulled upwards. “Hi Y/N, I’m so sorry for this mess,” he said, eyes shining with regret.

“I completely understand,” you placated. “You’re… Hoseok-ssi, right?”

He beamed. “Yes, I’m Hoseok. I’m 24, the middle brother. Please, call me oppa, we’re siblings now!”

He slung an arm over your shoulder and you couldn’t help but beam along with him. His bright energy was so infectious and immediately warmed you to him, drawing you into his orbit.

“It’s nice to meet you,” you replied, smile tugging at your lips. “I’m Y/N, 21 years old.”

“I’m so excited to have a cute younger sister,” Hoseok confessed as he walked you through the streets towards the house. “I was always jealous of my friends that could take care of their younger sisters, even though they acted like they were annoyed by them.”

You grinned more brightly. “Me too. I’ve been an only child all my life and having seven new brothers is very exciting to me.”

“You might want to take that back when you’ve met all of us,” Hoseok laughed. “You’ve met Jin-hyung, Namjoon-hyung, Jungkook-ah, right?”

Nodding, you spoke, “Yes, I have. Jin-ssi and Namjoon-ssi are very nice to me, but I don’t think Jungkook-ssi liked me very much…”

Hoseok waved it away. “Don’t worry, Kookie-ah doesn’t socialize well with girls. Or people. It took him ages to warm up to us after he got back from his grandparents.”

“Kookie-ah?” you asked curiously.

“Yes,” Hoseok grinned as he turned you onto a familiar street. “It’s our nickname for our youngest. He’s too cute not to tease.” Hoseok frowned as he remembered something. “Even though he is taller than me now.”

Hoseok was pretty tall himself, and you were starting to think that if you all took a family photo one day you’d look like the dwarf in the middle. Namjoon, Jin, and Jungkook just towered over you.

“On the other note, what do you do, Y/N? I’m curious about what my younger sister does.”

“I’m a university student at Yonsei, Hoseok-ssi,” you coughed, still not comfortable calling anybody oppa. “I’m studying psychology so I can be a counselor.”

“Yonsei? So my dongsaeng is a smart nut, I see,” Hoseok teased. “Did you know Jungkook before you met him as your brother?”

You shook your head. “I saw him around, but I only knew of him. What about you, Hoseok-ssi? What do you do?”

“I’m a dancer,” Hoseok announced, the house getting closer in view. “I’m part of this dance group, Neuron. We travel to perform and compete in competitions.”

“That’s awesome!” you clapped. “You must be very persistent. I tried ballet when I was younger and it was a disaster.”

“I haven’t heard that before,” Hoseok said, looking curiously at you. “Most people have told me I must be very talented or pull girls easily. But you’re right, I worked very hard.”

“What can I say?” you shrugged. “I just see through people.”

Hoseok guided you up the front steps of the doorway, fumbling through his pants to get his key. As he unlocked the front door, you heard the rumbling of a car going through the streets.

Going at least 100 kilometers per hour, a metallic blue Lamborghini skidded to a halt in front of the house. The weird doors stretched upwards and you saw both Jin and Namjoon emerge from the car.

“Y/N? Baby? Are you alright?” Jin asked worriedly, running up the front door.

“I’m good, Jin-ssi,” you comforted but he ignored it, taking your face in your hands and tilting your head to his view.

“Aish, those damn security guards!” Jin complained, clutching you to his chest and turning to Namjoon. “It’s your fault! Why did you give her that pass! She could’ve been detained! Put into cuffs like—like a criminal!” he ended dramatically.

Namjoon looked flabbergasted. “Me? You’re the one who got it!”

As the two descended into bickering, you peered at Hoseok from in between Jin’s arms. Your eyes screamed save me!

Hoeseok helpfully pried you from the still arguing doctor’s arms.

“Sorry about that, Jin is a bit protective over all of us— he practically raised us. We call him our mom sometimes,” Hoseok revealed, getting you into the house and leaving the now huffing and puffing duo on the doorsteps.

Next Chapter: Press [ X ] for the Moody Type, Taehyung! 

Chapter 7: Enter the Moody Type, Taehyung!

As you entered the house, the faint strings of what might be a Daniel Caesar song flowed throughout the house.

“Oh goodie, Taehyung must be here!,” Jin clapped, setting down his keys on a hook near the door. 

Namjoon snorted. “He’s the only one of us that listens to this moody shit.”

Through drought and famine, natural disaster, my baby has been around for me.

A door slammed somewhere on the ground level, and the click clack of heeled boots echoed like muffled gunshots on the marble of the house.

Kingdoms have fallen, angels be calling, none of that could ever make me leave.

Turning the corner, your heart stopped.

Leaning on the wooden doorway was the most heart-breakingly beautiful man you’ve ever laid eyes upon. His dyed ash-grey hair was messy around his face, but behind his bangs peeked half-lidded eyes shaped like tear drops. A strong nose and pink lips, like the petals of a flower, were parted open as he stared through you.

“Oh? Is this our new sister?” he said softly, his gravelly voice filling the hall.

You grinned uneasily, fighting off the urge to cover yourself with a blanket or something. It wasn’t that his gaze was improper; those mercurial eyes just seemed to look through you.

“Taehyung, meet Y/N. She is our stepfather’s daughter,” Jin said carefully, eyes flicking between you like a tennis match.

It’s not fair, you thought. His clothes shouldn’t even match. The silky sleeveless tee had a paintbrush stroke across the chest and was bunched into baggy canvas pants covered in paint. It should’ve made him look like those wacky tube inflatables near car dealerships yet he looked like he walked out of a magazine.

“It’s nice to see you, Y/N,” Taehyung nearly whispered, head tilted to the side like he was evaluating a particular interesting museum installation. He made no move to shake your hand or embrace you.

“And you too, Taehyung-ssi,” you replied, bowing politely. He inclined his head.

“Well, I better get back to my red room. My pretties are coming along nicely,” Taehyung pronounced matter-a-factly, spinning sharply around to disappear into the dimly lit hall.

Namjoon face-palmed. “Well, now it sounds like he has a kinky sex dungeon. He just sees the world a bit differently than us, that’s all. It took some time for us to interpret his words when he came to us; for example, his pretties are his photographs.” The businessman looked suddenly pensieve. “Perhaps that’s why he’s so good at what he does.”

“Oh? What does Taehyung-ssi do?” you inquired, feeling like a strong breeze had swept into the room and left as suddenly as it came. You know that feeling? Where your skin tingles in the aftermath, your lips are suddenly dry, and like you could be knocked over the lightest touch.

“He’s a magazine editor, Y/N-ah,” Hoseok grins, putting down his heavy dancer bag on the couch carelessly. “It’s this really new-age, artsy magazine with a cult following. Maybe you’ve seen it? I think he named it something cryptic like ‘V’.”

“I’ll look into it, then,” you beamed, hoping to diffuse the weird tension that had settled on your shoulders.

———- 

Hoseok excused himself to take a shower and Namjoon had to take an important phone call, so it was just you and Jin left.

“Well, I know us five are at least here, and I know Jungkook is due to arrive soon from the gym. However, I don’t know if someone is going to drop by so I just leave an extra plate in the fridge just in case,” Jin said, stroking his chin.

“So, what’s on the menu today?” you asked playfully, taking a seat on the barstool.

Jin ruffled through the fridge, the fluorescent light highlighting his casual t-shirt. “Well, with what we have in the fridge, I can make some Chap-Chae and perhaps Kimchi Jjigae. However, we’d have a lot of chicken left and we need to eat it soon. Hm…”

“Jin-ssi, I know a good chicken recipe. Dakgangjeong? It’s this crispy fried chicken slathered in sweet and spicy sauce.”

The doctor frowned for a moment, leaning against the countertop.

“Is someone allergic? Or doesn’t like Chicken?” you asked worriedly, biting your lips.

Jin shook his head and chuckled. “No, everyone really likes fried chicken here. I’m just trying to remember if we have the ingredients.”

“That’s a relief, because it’s one of my favorite comfort meals.”

Opening the pantry, he bent down to look for something. “I think we do have everything here, thank goodness,” he grinned at you as he got up. “Do you cook a lot?”

“Yup, it’s my hobby,” you revealed, washing your hands at the sink. “I had to learn how to give myself food as a child.”

“Okay, awesome! You get started on the chicken and I’ll do the other dishes,” Jin said brightly, putting some ingredients on the table.

“Sounds good to me!”

You probably weren’t meant to hear it, but Jin giggled underneath his breath, “I have a sous-chef now.”

————

You put the finishing garnishes on your chicken and stepped back. The glaze looked very savory underneath the kitchen lights and dipping your finger into your glaze pot, it also tasted very good as well.

By the looks of it, Jin had finished with his two dishes. Wiping his hands with a towel, he put his hands on his hips and yelled, “Children! Get down here to eat, you punks!” 

As soon as you set down your plate of chicken, a multitude of footsteps resounded throughout the house.

Namjoon strode in first, only in a white shirt and trousers, and nodded coolly at you. The man looked very attractive out of his form-fitting workwear, and you wish your gaze hadn’t lingered on his tan, exposed skin.

Hoseok and Jungkook came in second, rough-housing with each other in the doorway before taking their seats. Hoseok greeted you brightly but Jungkook stared at you without a word before averting his gaze.

Finally, V came into the dining room in a more casual outfit of an oversized shirt and lounge pants, but still exuded an air of effortless grace. He grinned at everyone and plopped down into his chair.

“Alright everyone, eat up!” Jin fussed, setting down the steaming hot bowl and plate he was somehow carrying. You trailed after him with your dish grasped with both hands, hoping you wouldn’t accidentally trip and spill your hard work over the very expensive carpet.

You had to lean over Jungkook to place your chicken in the middle and you heard a startled “eep!” from beside you.

“Jungkook-ssi, are you alright?” You asked, sitting down in your seat next to him.

He nodded wordlessly, his ears red and gaze intensely focused on his plate. Running your eyes over him, you shrugged and grabbed your chopsticks.

The whole family dug in, loud and boisterous as people argued over which cut was better and devolved into personal attacks. Something warm curled up in your chest and warmed your cheeks, hoping to constrain the ridiculous smile that threatened to split your face. Is this how family looks like?

Watching Jungkook engage Taehyung in a very one sided conversation about the benefits of eating a certain part of the meat versus the other was very different than your empty apartment and lukewarm food.

“Wah, hyung, you’ve really outdid yourself with the chicken,” Hoseok gushed as he took a big bite of your chicken. “Please make it for us more!”

Jin chuckled, and set his chopsticks down. “I didn’t make it, so you’d have to ask her if you want more.”

Namjoon, with a strange light in his eyes, gestured to the nearly empty chicken plate with his chopsticks. “You… made this?”

Nodding in affirmative, you took a sip of your cola and cleared your throat. “Yes, I hope you guys liked it.”

Jungkook choked on his water and Jin rushed over to roughly pat his back. “Breath Jungkookie, breath!”

Hoseok yelled in delight and took out his handphone. “My cute little sister made this for me? Wow, my friends are going to be so jealous!” he grinned, snapping a few nice pictures of your glazed chicken.

Jungkook recovered at this point and was trying to fend off mother-hen Jin. “Hyung, I’m fine! I swear! You don’t have to baby me!,” he whined, cheeks red. “Besides, it was probably a bone or something.”

Your oldest brother huffed and sat back roughly into his seat, muttering something about ungrateful kids, while you tried to roll Jungkook’s comment over in your head. Bone? You used boneless chicken?

Deciding to push it away from your mind, you discreetly glanced at your cell phone and realized it was nearing 8 o’clock.

“Oh dear,” you muttered, catching the attention of the men at the table. “It’s almost 8 o’clock and I need to get home to water my plants,” you fretted.

As if on cue, a crack of thunder shook the table and you heard the rain start to hound at the windows and walls.

“Well, I be-leaf they’re getting watered,” Jin commented, cleaning up the last parts of his plate.

Staring at him in disbelief, you started to giggle and soon you were clutching your stomach with how hard you were laughing. 

“Did she like his shitty joke that much?” Jungkook whispered not so discreetly to Namjoon, who looked a bit weirded out himself.

“I’ve- I’ve never met a man with such awful jokes,” you laughed, wiping a tear from your eyes. “But I can’t help finding them so funny.”

The doctor aha-ed and pointed at Jungkook. “See? My jokes are so bad that they’re good!”

Snorting in disbelief, the youngest brother leaned back into his chair with his arms crossed over his built chest. “She’s our sister, she’s obligated to,” he murmurs sulkily. He sneaks a peek at you and you giggle at his adorable moodiness, to which he reddens and avoids your gaze.

Namjoon looked worriedly out the window, quickly turning on the news with his phone.

“— strong windstorms and rains are going to be surrounding Seoul overnight—”

“I can’t, in good conscience, let you go back home in this weather,” Namjoon stated, eyes flickering between you and the loud weather outside.

You hesitated. You were kind of worried for Mr. Ukyo, your cute succulent on the porch. “I—”

“Y/N, please,” Hoseok begged. “What kind of brothers would we be if we left you alone tonight? Stay in. We have a guest room with all the stuff you need.”

“I… okay. Thank you guys,” you smiled uneasily.

Hoseok laughed and patted your back as he got up to put his plate away.

“Sleepover…” Taehyung mumbled as he passed by you. On his way out the door, he gave you a boxy smile that tugged at something in your head.

Next Chapter: Press [ X ] for the Cool Type, Yoongi! 

Chapter 7: Enter the Cool Type, Yoongi!

“Hi, my cute dongsaeng!” announced Hoseok as he strode into your guest room. “I come bearing gifts!”

You grinned at your exuberant brother as he danced through your doorway, having a pile of stuff in his arms.

“We usually don’t have guests over, but sometimes our mother stays at the house and now we have a bunch of, uh, woman stuff,” Hoseok coughed.

“Thank you, Hoseok-ssi,” you said, moving to sort through the items.

“Call me oppa,” Hoseok whined.

Namjoon peeked through your doorway and saw Hoseok pouting at you, and instantly wacked the back of his head.

“Yah, you literally just met her today. Let her grow more comfortable with us first,” the businessman scolded, before turning to you.

“We have some t-shirts and shorts that don’t fit Jungkook anymore but please don’t tell him that we kept his childhood items,” Namjoon shook his head, a smile tugging at his lips. “I got you a toothbrush and toothpaste, plus some face products.

“You’re really kind, I feel like I’m in a hotel,” you joked, moving to plug your phone into the wall outlet. The place felt like your hotel suite suddenly got upgraded. This guest room was bigger than your entire living room and everything was so nicely decorated, you couldn’t help but gawk like a tourist at the fancy light fixtures and furniture. Maybe if you broke a vase you’d have to work in a host club...

“Ah, really? That’s nice to hear,” Namjoon said, sitting down in an armchair near the window overlooking Seoul and the Han River. He steepled his fingers together, tilting his head at you. “However, if you moved in, this room would be yours.”

Your slight smile turned slightly downwards and Hoseok, sensing the change of mood easily, turned over and whacked Namjoon over his head.

“Who’s the one going too fast now?” Hoseok retorted, before plopping down on the chair opposite of Namjoon.

“No, no, you’re fine, Namjoon-ssi,” you acknowledged. “I just… I don’t want to intrude. Plus, the amount of testosterone in this building…” you trailed off.

“Y/N-ah, we just met you but we already know you’d be a good fit with our family,” Hoseok said, smiling softly at you. “Seriously.”

“I don’t want to seem overbearing and I know you’re very independent, but the idea of you living alone worries Jin-hyung and I,” Namjoon confessed, wringing his hands and looking towards the window. “What happens if there is any emergency? Or you got sick? It’d be hard for us to take care of you.”

Tears welled up at the edge of your vision and your mouth twitched downwards. Quickly pressing a hand to your mouth, you averted your eyes from the boys.

“Y/N-ssi, what’s wrong? Are you alright?” Namjoon asked worriedly, getting up from the armchair.

You waved him away, discreetly wiping your nose. “I-I’m fine, Namjoon-ssi. Really. I’m just really emotional all the sudden, that’s all.”

“Y/N-ah, are you sure?” Hoseok piped in concern, craning his neck to see your face.

A hand thrust some tissues in front of you and you took them gratefully, dabbing at your eyes.

“I- I just…” you sucked a breath in, and turned towards the fretful pair of brothers. You suddenly beamed at them, eyes crinkling into crescents and grin splitting your cheeks despite the visible tear tracks on your cheeks. “I’ve never had someone care for me. Thank you.”

The two boys felt their heart stutter at the surprisingly vulnerable confession from the ever-polite yet distant you. They shared a look.

We’re in trouble.

———-

The house quieted down and all the lights were turned out as the rain seemed to get louder. However, despite the busy day, you tossed and turned in the very comfy cotton sheets.

Turning on your side, you watched the rain stream down your window in awe. While the window was big, a building partially blocked your view of the Han river and the Seoul skyline. You unplugged your phone from the charger on the wall and looked at the time. 1 A.M.

For some reason, you couldn’t sleep. Perhaps it was the unfamiliar environment or the dozens of thoughts crowding your head, but you couldn’t force your head to turn off despite counting hundreds of sheep.

Letting out a frustrated groan, you untangled yourself from the sheets and set your feet on the heated marble. Padding quietly to the door, you tried your best to open and close the heavy wooden door softly.

The house seemed bigger when it was not filled by the loud voices and eclectic, varied personalities of your brothers. Clutching a throw blanket over your shoulders, you made your way down the stairwell with only the city’s lights shining through the large, floor-to-ceiling windows around the house.

Flicking the low lights on in the kitchen, you searched the many cabinets for where they kept their tea packets. You finally found a jar of chamomile tea in a corner of the pantry, turning on the tea kettle and waiting for it to boil.

Leaning against the corner, your eyes got accustomed to the dark of the living room and roved over the personal effects of the brothers. There was a large picture of all seven boys on the mantle of the fireplace with their mother sitting in the middle, however, you could not see the faces of the two brothers you had not met due to the reflection in the glass.

Could you see yourself living here? With the amiable and fussy Jin, and the mature, erudite Namjoon? Wake up every morning to see the infectiously bright Hoseok at the counter and the mercurial Taehyung floating through the house like a wraith? Even go to school with your confusing classmate, Jungkook?

The kettle whistled loudly and you took it off its burner, pouring water into a cup. Flicking off the underhead lights in the kitchen, you padded towards the living room and curled up on the outrageously soft, leather couch. Blowing on your tea, you took a sip as you gazed in wonder at the rain streaming rivers over the large, bay window.

For years, the rain had been your only friend when your father traipsed the globe. It had softly knocked at your window to check if you were okay when you were sick and playfully splashed you when you were sad. The rain sang you to sleep every night when you were young and alone, afraid of the thundering din outside.

Looking at the portrait of the seven boys, you saw a new family.

Smiling into your tea cup, your mind was made up.

A loud beep rang throughout the house and a click reached your ears. Your eyes tried to look through the darkness at the basement entrance, where a figure clad in all black emerged. Feeling a momentary panic seize your heart, your fingers tightened over your mug and you tried to think straight. This was probably your other brother, Yoongi or Chimmy.

“Oh? Who are you?” A raspy voice said, shutting the door behind him. “Are you one of my brother’s girlfriends?”

Shaking your head, you got to your feet. “No, I’m your new sister, Y/N L/N.”

The figure made an affirmative noise and removed his shoes at the massive shoe closet next to the entrance. “Ah, I see. I’m Yoongi, your second oldest brother.”

A crack of thunder shook the house and a few seconds later, bright white lightning flashed through the room and illuminated you both.

In that split second, you saw pitch black hair constrained by a headband. However, what caught your attention was his eyes. Contrasted against pale skin and fierce, arched brows, were lids shaped like the outstretched wing of a bird. He stared at you lazily before they widened minutely.

“It’s nice to meet you too, Yoongi-ssi.”

“You too,” he mumbled and bowed politely, shuffling up the stairs like a gloomy specter.

You blinked a bit at how calmly he took this into stride. Christ, were your brothers fazed by anything?

—————

“Y/N-ah. Y/N-ah, wake up!”

You groggily opened your eyes to see Jin close to your face, his brows bunched together in concern.

“Y/N-ah, are you alright? You’re on the couch.”

Straightening up you could see that you, indeed, were still on the couch. You must’ve fallen asleep while watching the rain.

“Oh, yeah, I am,” you stated, rubbing your eyes and yawning. “I must’ve fallen asleep here last night.”

Jin sat across you and looked worried. “Did something happen last night? Was the guest room not comfortable? Did—”

“Oh no, nothing like that!” you tried to say. “The sound of the rain was better here.” 

He looked at you strangely but accepted it with a shrug of his shoulders. “Anyway, I’m about to make breakfast, why don’t you clean up a bit? I’ll wake up the other brothers.”

You nodded and almost stumbled trying to get off the couch, before Jin caught you with an arm. You turned your head to see his face uncomfortably close to yours.

“Careful,” he whispered, his minty breath trailing across your cheeks and his eyes roving your face.

You felt your cheeks heat up before you almost threw yourself out of his touch. “Yeah, um, thank you!” you yelled behind you before you fled to upstairs.

————

By the time you cleaned your face and put on a bra, all of the boys— in various states of consciousness— were gathered around the dining counter.

“Y/N-ah!” Hoseok said enthusiastically, obviously one of the more awake ones. He wore a pair of flowered pants that ahjummas usually wore and white, long-sleeved tee. “Yoongi came in last night, he’s our other brother.”

“We met last night, Hoseok-ah,” Yoongi mumbled into a large cup that, hilariously, was engraved with the words “Daddy-Size”. “I came home around 1 AM and saw her on the couch.”

“Oh, was everything alright?” Namjoon inquired politely, stretching his broad muscles as he yawned. Even his loungewear looked professional.

Smiling uneasily, you took a seat at the counter next to Jungkook, whose head was buried in his arm. “Yeah, couldn’t sleep and the city lights calmed me down,” you reassured.

Jungkook suddenly jerked awake next to you, alarmed eyes peeking through his messy black hair. “H-huh?”

You grinned at him. “Good morning, Jungkook-ssi.”

He mumbled a good morning in the direction of the ground before his eyes zoomed into something at your collarbone.

‘Y/N-ssi, i-is that my shirt?” he asked shyly— the first words he has directed towards you.

You looked at the oversized navy shirt, which you had tucked into the pair of denim shorts you wore yesterday. “I think? Namjoon told me it was one of your own.”

His gaze whipped to Namjoon and he started sputtering as Namjoon snickered, putting on a pair of thick-framed glasses.

Suddenly, Jin swore as he looked at his phone. “Sorry guys, but there’s an emergency at the hospital. I need to go,” he said rushedly, racing to the closest to put on a pair of tennis shoes. “Yoongi, cook for them!”

He shut the basement door with a slam and suddenly the house was silent.

“Yoongi-hyung, please,” Taehyung, who had emerged from some hallway, begged with a pout on his petal lips. His voice was extra raspy this morning.

The black-haired man grunted before hiding his face behind his coffee cup. You took that as a no.

“We’re going to starve,” Jungkook complained into Hoseok’s shoulder, who cooed and patted the muscled man cutely.

“Well, I can cook for us if you’d like? As a thank you for letting me stay over?” you said nervously. All eyes turned towards you and you gulped, not used to having all of your brothers’ attention on you.

“That’d be lovely,” Namjoon said, squinting at a novel he had produced out of nowhere.

“Aw, is our cute dongsaeng going to cook for us? I’m living the dream,” Hoseok sighed dramatically.

You snorted and got out of your seat. “I saw enough ingredients for what I want to cook, so just sit tight.”

The boys thanked you and some exited the kitchen towards the living room. You tried to remember where you saw the ingredients yesterday, but the kitchen was extremely big and had those weird cabinets where you had to push in a certain corner to open.

“Uh, where are the onions?” you asked no one in particular.

“Yoongi-hyung,” Hoseok nudged the still tired looking man. “Next to Jin, you know the kitchen the best.”

The black-haired sighed heavily and got out of his seat, leaving the “Daddy-Size cup” on the counter. He opened the fridge and bent down to a drawer you hadn’t seen. “Green onions.”

You took the bag and thanked, expecting him to leave the kitchen. “What else do you need?”

He stood there, eyes boring a hole through your face. Even as he was sleepy, he still looked like a cool older brother.

Scanning the ingredients, counting the things you had and didn’t, you turned back to him. “Um, I just need butter, tomatoes, and cheese.”

Wordlessly, he grabbed the ingredients and set it down on the counter next to you. Really expecting he’d leave, he surprised you by pulling out a chopping board and knife.

“How do you need the onions and tomatoes cut, Y/N-ssi?” he asked roughly, raspy voice causing the hair at the nape of your neck to rise. You shook your head. He’s your brother, for god’s sake!

“I need both diced, but slice some of the tomato into thin wedges for presentation,” you asked politely.

He nodded and washed both of the vegetables, before quickly and neatly dicing them with an experienced hand.

You broke the eggs and as you whisked the egg mixture with a pair of chopsticks, you decided to break the silence.

“How old are you, Yoongi-ssi?” 

He didn’t pause in his slicing. “25 years old. How about you?”

“21, but turning 22 soon.”

Yoongi hummed and started on the tomatoes. “Ah, that means you’re university age then. Are you attending university right now?”

Nodding, you grabbed some salt and pepper to add flavor to the omelette.  “Yeah, I’m actually attending Yonsei with Jungkook-ssi. What about you?”

“I’m a freelance producer,” he said carelessly, neatly scraping diced tomato onto a plate. “But I graduated from an arts college overseas in classical performance.”

It seemed like many of the brothers were artistically-inclined, you noted as you washed the spinach. But it amused you that this cool-looking brother of yours, with pierced ears and effortlessly stylish street clothes, could play a fancy-looking instrument.

Your step brother cleared his throat and he stepped back. “Is there anything else you need me to do?”

You looked at the finely chopped tomatoes and onions and shook your head. “No, that’s all. Thank you for helping out.”

He inclined his head and padded out of the kitchen, collapsing on the couch with his hoodie over his head.

Turning on the heat, you put the omelette mixture in the pan and waited for it to cook through. As you were gathering the other ingredients to put in the pan, a chin nestled itself onto your shoulder.

“Oh? What is this?” a deep, husky voice rumbled next to your ear.

You nearly jumped out of your skin when you saw Taehyung’s finely chiseled face so close to yours. Squeaking, you turned your attention back to the pan.

“Breakfast omelettes, Taehyung-ssi,” you replied a bit shakily, feeling the weight of his head on your shoulder and his breath puffing into your ear. “I hope you like it.”

Adjusting his bent over position, he wrapped his arms around your waist and buried his face into the crook of your neck. “I will, Y/N-ah. It’ll be delicious.”

Your face flamed and you willed the egg to cook faster, trying not to focus on how his large hands pressed warmly into your stomach.

“Hyung!” Jungkook exclaimed, barrelling out of nowhere. “Hyung, you can’t do that! Stop!” 

“Oh? Why not?” the editor asked monotonously, his lips moving over the sensitive skin of your neck. You stiffened and muffled a squeal, neary getting hot oil over your fingers. Your muscled classmate tried, unsuccessfully, to tug Taehyung’s arms from your body but for some reason, Taehyung’s hold on you was ironclad.

In the midst of Jungkook screaming in the background and the shouts of your other brothers, Taehyung sighed heavily and melted into your body. “I miss this,” he murmured.

Next Chapter: Press [ X ] for the Cheeky Type, Jimin! 

Chapter 8: Enter the Cheeky Type, Jimin!

Over the next few days, you slowly got used to the vibrant and varied personalities of the boys. The brothers were a rowdy bunch but they coaxed you out of your shell with unintentional hilarity and clumsy warmth. Even Jungkook, with your weird first meeting, took to accompanying you throughout school and engaging you in shy conversation. Visiting the house frequently, someone was always there to entertain you and coerce you into trying to move into the house.

However, as the days passed by, you saw neither hide nor hair of the mysterious seventh brother. None of the brothers seemed to be fazed. One day, as Namjoon drove you home, you decided to press the subject.

“Namjoon-ssi? Who is my seventh brother? I haven’t heard much of him,” you inquired shyly.

He hummed, leaning an arm casually against the window and driving between lanes with just one hand. Namjoon didn’t drive as recklessly as Jungkook, per se, but he seemed to think other cars were just nuisances on the road.

“I was wondering when you’d ask about that. Our other brother is not home a lot because he’s usually on tour,” Namjoon revealed in his deep voice. “He’s an idol.”

You gasped and looked at Namjoon in surprise. “You’re fucking with me.”

He chuckled, a chocolatey, rich sound that filled your ears and did funny things to your belly as he turned to exit the highway. “No, I’m not. Our little Chimmy is an idol.”

Taking out your phone, you opened up the web app. “Chimmy? Is that his name? Or does he have a stage name I need to find.”

Namjoon shook his head. “No, his name is Jimin. 23 years old, debuted 3 years ago.”

Smacking your head, you exclaimed, “Oh wait! I know him! I saw his birthday ads all over Seoul a few days ago. Wow, my brother is a celebrity, huh?” 

Typing his name into the search bar, millions of results popped into your browser. Gorgeous, fan-taken photos filled the image section and you clicked on one.

Wow. Jimin looked ethereal on stage, in a loose, white shirt and tight, black pants as he performed some sort of strenuous dance move. His plump lips, sharp jawline, and high cheekbones were still stunning in low quality photos. You were seriously starting to think your stepmother secretly paid for them from a lab. It really wasn’t fair that you, an average 4, were now related to solid fifteens. 

You clicked on a video with nearly 12 million views of him at a fanmeet event, his eyes crinkling and lips pulled up in a grin as he did aegyo for his adoring fans.

“He’s very popular, isn’t he?” you asked Namjoon rhetorically.

Namjoon snorted. “An understatement. We can’t go out in public with him unless he covers his hair and his entire face. He has security tailing him when we go to crowded places, it’s ridiculous.”

Something clicked in your head. “Ah!” you exclaimed. “That’s why you guys live there! And here I was, thinking you were all paranoid.”

His laugh filled the car again and you got a whiff of his musky cologne as he leaned over to adjust the air conditioner. “Yeah, even when we moved there a few years ago before Jimin’s popularity exploded, he had some crazy fans. Seoyeon, Jin, and I decided to choose Hannam Hill for their security.”

“You’re such good brothers,” you grinned at him. You swore you saw a hint of red beneath his collar as he cleared his throat.

“And we’re lucky we’re gaining such a good… sister.”

You tapped at your purse. “At least with my residence pass I won’t be detained now.”

The man next to you groaned and nearly facepalmed into the driver’s wheel.

“Do you have to remind me of this? I take it back, my sister sucks.”

——— 

Jungkook and you walked through the campus gates, finished with the Calculus class and exhausted after the test.

“Wait, shit, did I derive number eighteen right?” you fretted, your sweaty hands fiddling with your bag strap. “Oh my god now, I didn’t foil correctly!”

“Relax, Y/N, you did fine,” Jungkook snorted, no longer as painfully shy as he was when he first met you. You never did get why he had such a violent reaction to you at first, though.

“Easy for you to say, Mr. I-don’t-study-yet-I-still-get-A’s,” you huffed in annoyance, accidentally bumping shoulders with him.

He laughed and wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his side. An ‘eep!’ escaped your mouth but you found you couldn’t protest as Jungkook looked down at you with the cutest, bunny smile you had seen.

“Relax, Y/N. It’s just one test.”

You sulked and crossed your arms, trying to push the heat in your cheeks away. Clearing your throat you ducked from underneath his arms. You thought you saw a flash of disappointment in Jungkook’s face, but you quickly linked arms with him so you could walk more comfortably. His eyes widened and he looked upwards, the tips of his ears a flaming red.

Ignoring several stares from your fellow university students, you walked to the campus parking lot where Jungkook had parked his car.

“Jungkook-ah? Which car did you drive today?” you asked, flushing a bit as you heard your own words. Imagine what the you from a few weeks ago would’ve said. What kind of rich bitch did you turn into?

“The silver one. The Mercedes,” he said casually but you knew he was beaming with pride. He had revealed to you, one day when driving home, that he bought this car with his streaming money and not with cash from his brothers or family. Jungkook was insanely protective of this car. 

“Gotcha.”

Throwing your bags into the backseat, he started up the car. Feeling that it was a bit hot, you decided to roll down the window. Fumbling for a hair tie in your bag, you decided that putting your hair up would be smart.

“—gry, Y/N?”

“Huh?” you asked confusion, hair tie in your mouth. 

“I just asked if you were hungry, Y/N?” he said, voice trailing off in a question as he looked up from his phone. His eyes widened at you.

“Um, not really? But if you are, I can whip us up something once we get home,” you said confidently, twisting your hair into the tie. Huh, when did you start calling it home?

“... Jungkook?”

He nervously cleared his throat as you looked at him, pulling back your hair into the tie. The tip of his ears were red and he seemed a bit flustered. Your brother fumbled with the controls, accidentally turning on the windshield wipers. Biting back a smile, you smoothed down your hair.

“Yeah, that’s fine.”

————— 

The house was silent as the two of you entered. It seemed no one was in the house today, all of your brothers very busy with their respective jobs.

“I’m going to take a shower, Y/N, “ Jungkook said as he climbed up the stairwell. 

You hummed affirmative as you threw your bag at the foot of the coffee table, collapsing into the comfy leather couch. Switching on the TV, you couldn’t find anything interesting so you settled on an entertainment channel.

“Thousands of fans crowded Incheon Airport’s International Terminal today…”

Snuggling into a sun spot on the couch, you nuzzled your face into a pillow. The warmth made you feel drowsy and you decided a quick nap was alright. Nodding off, you could hear the shower turn on upstairs.

“...as international Hallyu star Jimin arrived back in Korea …”

—————

“Oh? Who are you?”

You groggily opened your eyes to the high-pitched voice that was honey to your ears, an unconscious “huh?” coming out of your mouth. In your bleary vision, you saw lavender-blonde hair and pink, plump lips hovering above you.

The man snickered and you felt a smooth hand grasp your jaw to turn your head upwards. Your eyes focused and you swore you were still dreaming, because the face so close to yours could only be an angel’s. Ethereal eyes like a storm looked lazily down at you, his high cheekbones and narrow jaw highlighted by the warm light of golden hour.

“Are you a fan? You shouldn’t be here,” he scolded in a sing-song voice, clicking his tongue as he stroked a thumb over your chin.

You couldn’t think after being awoken from such a deep REM cycle and being near such an unearthly man, your thoughts jumbled and disjointed.

“Naughty, naughty girl,” he whispered, minty breath puffing against your face. “Well, if you’re here, I might as well make the most of it.”

With strength you hadn’t expected, he suddenly caged you into the couch— a leg between yours and the other on the floor, his hands trapping your hands above your heads. His silk shirt brushed against the exposed skin of your belly, making you shiver.

“H-hey!” you said, regaining your thoughts. “What the hell?”

He chuckled, a cruel edge to his voice as his face neared yours. “Oh, playing the innocent card are we?” His lips neared your ear and you froze, eyes wide as his plump lips brushed against your earlobe. “Don’t worry, baby girl, you’re pretty enough to pull it off.”

The man started to press a kiss at space between your ear and neck, and slowly started to trail down your sensitive neck. You inhaled sharply as his teeth and tongue prodded at your skin and he snickered, his voice vibrating against your skin. An involuntarily squeak left your lips as he bit playfully at your collarbone.

“H-Hyung?”

You both turned to see Jungkook, hair still wet from the shower, staring at you two in disbelief. His eyes were wide and his lips were opened in shock as he suddenly froze in the middle of the living room.

“Jungkookie!” the man said brightly, no trace of the breathy, seductive voice he had used to lull you into a trance. His limbs no longer trapped you as the lavender haired man sprang up and ran to the stock-still Jungkook.

“Aw, Jungkookie, I missed you,” the familiar yet still unknown man cooed as he clung to Jungkook’s broad shoulders. “It’s been so long,” he whined, lips pursed in a pout.

Still breathless from lavender boy’s attentions, you sat up on the couch and saw stars as the blood rushed to your head. Blinking to clear it away, you reached up to your neck to touch the spots where lavender boy had touched.

“Jungkook-ah?” you whispered, voice rough from lack of use. “Who’s this?”

Your classmate still stared at you in shock as lavender boy clung to him like a leech, cooing at Jungkook.

“Aw, is this your girlfriend, Jungkookie?” Angel boy said fretfully after a moment of silence. “I’m so sorry, I thought she was a fan! Forgive me!”

You cleared your throat nervously, righting your disheveled clothes and messy hair. “Look, I have no idea who the hell you are, but I am not Jungkook’s girlfriend nor your fan and either way, you should not be— be assaulting unsuspecting girls who just wanted to nap!”

“Who the hell am I?” Lavender boy retorted rudely, no longer seductive or cutesy as his eyes narrowed at you. “I live here, wench!”

“Well I’m about to, fool!” you sneered, crossing your arms.

“Jungkook-ie, call security as I deal with this clearly crazy lady!” The still unknown boy huffed, advancing towards you.

Jungkook finally got out of his trance and grabbed Jimin by the shoulder. “Jimin-Hyung, stop! Haven’t we talked about her in the groupchat a lot? She’s our new sister!”

Jimin froze and his eyebrows lifted minutely, whirling around to look at Jungkook. “Wait, what? We have a sister now?”

He looked at you differently, eyes scanning your figure disinterestedly. “Did Seoyeon—” he spat out the name like it was stale gum in his mouth, “—find another baby we didn’t know about? Another poor bastard like me?”

You got whiplash with how much he changed moods and started to inch away. Well, it seemed like your step brother was nothing like how he portrayed himself in the videos you had seen online about him. A frown pushed at your lips.

Jungkook pinched the bridge of his nose. “No, hyung, mom got married again to Y/N’s father. She’s our new step sister now.”

Jimin stayed silent before he turned to you again, his eyes mocking. A shit-eating smirk crawled up his lips. “Well, sister dearest, welcome to the family!”

Arc: Character Introductions Ended. Press [ X ] to continue?

A/N: If you’ve watched BroCon and you’re curious to who each person is based on, here’s the guide:

Jin (Doctor) = A mixture of Uyko and Masaomi

Namjoon (Businessman) = Natsume

Jungkook (Gamer/ Uni Student) = Yusuke

Hoseok (Dancer) = Himself lol he was supposed to be Subaru but i didn’t want to make him super angsty. Don’t worry, in this story he’ll be more than just his stage persona :)))

Taehyung (Magazine editor) = Louis

Yoongi (Producer) = mixture of Yuusuke’s tsundere-ness and Iori’s calmness

Jimin (Idol) = Fuuto with a bit of Tsubaki’s personality

Anyways, if you enjoyed it, please comment and reblog!!! I appreciate any feedback you may have, whether it be a sentence or a whole dang paragraph— I love it all :))) Please, if you’re doing okay, please help me pay for school through my Ko-Fi (link in my profile).

Arc II: Decisions and Settling In will be released in a month!! Comment if you’d like to be tagged :))

[breadedsinner]

Trying to give a very general overview of Raph's background, just ideas I have compiled in re-making him. If something seems off or particularly interesting, by all means let me know.

I don't care THAT much about canon timeline, but I would rather bend before breaking, so....trying to stay moderately compliant.

*

-Father was a mechanic, mother was a botanist. She was originally from Columbia, he was a few generations from Italy, but she went to school in New York, her car broke down, they hit it off.

-They wanted to start over and raise a family in the colonies, they wanted to help build the foundation for the next generations in the expanding galaxy.

-Raph is the second of three children; one older brother and a baby sister.

-Said eldest brother wanted to join the Alliance but his parents were not thrilled about it.

-Raph had no aspirations of leaving the colony, he wanted to be a teacher.

-Very bookish, shy, and highly organized a child. He might not have gone to many birthday parties but will absolutely help you plan one.

-That said, the colony was very tight-knit, and he was close to their neighbors.

-When the raiders hit, Raph ran up the stairs to rescue his sister while his family was trying to fend them off. The house collapsed. As it all fell down, a sudden biotic flare emitted from his body, softening the impact to save him and only him. Any passing Raiders missed him. Alliance Marines eventually found his unconscious body in the rubble of his family home.

-I honestly am not sure what he would do between this point and enlisting so uh up for suggestions. He is feeling extremely guilty and obligated to develop his biotics, since he could have used them to save someone besides himself.

-Since he's too young for brain camp and too old for Grissom, I'm thinking the Alliance took freelance, non-turian biotic mentors. I was thinking an asari, maybe on the end of her Maiden Stage and looking to depart some knowledge before heading back home. Tough but fair, emphasized control, hence Raph's more defense abilities as a Sentinel.

-I like the idea of him and Kaidan being in basic together but I don't have much beyond that.

-I like the idea of him being something in the realm of search and rescue before being scouted(?) for N training, as his biotics and ability to stay cool under pressure progress. Honestly he would have been happy to stay where he was for a year years and retire, but was convinced his abilities would be put to better use, as there wouldn't be a whole lot of human biotics who can fight, certainly not as well as he can.

-I picture Torfan as an underground base. Lots of opportunities for poor navigation and communication. Raph pushed, refusing to relent; if these Raiders were lost they might never find them again. He accepted the heavy losses. Probably had some counseling after, but bounced back where others could not.

-He does not like the picture that came of him after. The mission ALWAYS comes first, that is not unique to him, that he should be seen as someone who does not care about the lives of others is inaccurate. He pushed because he valued life above all else.

-Before the Eden Prime mission, he was considering retiring. He would never escape the shadow of the Butcher. He didn't want that to be his whole life.

[silky-stories]

Hi!! Maybe headcanons or some kind of literature with either vampire garcello x reader or mermaid garcello x reader?? You could do both or one or the other. You're the one writing it after all. Thanks!

Oh. Ohohohohohohoho, now we’re talking >:)

Anon I am going to let you in on a little secret, so anyone who isn’t anon look away >:(

...okay now that it’s just you and me, one of your suggestions kind of predicted a oneshot I’ve been working on that I’m going to be posting soon. So because of that I’ll be going with the other option. Hope you enjoy ;3

———————————————————————

Parched. {Vampire Garcello/Reader}

Genre: Suggestive

Words: 2027

Related Song: Arctic Monkeys - Do I Wanna Know { slowed + reverb}

Summary: When your boyfriend gets home from a long day, it’s only polite to fix him a drink, don’t you think?

Disclaimer/s: Steamy content, swearing, blood

Notes: Garcello speaks in red this time, Reader speaks in blue ;) [Also, monster character x reader or character x monster reader is my absolute jam, feel free to send in requests like this more often-]

———————————————————————

Your boyfriend was, to put it lightly, a little bit on the odd side.

He work dark clothes on hot days, didn’t like the sun very much, had an uncanny sense of smell and hearing, and liked his meat pretty rare. To the outside world he was a weird shut-in that was probably goth, but you knew a hell of a lot more than that.

The two of you had met late at night in a rougher part of the city. You were on your way home from picking up a few essentials at the nearby 24-hour convenience store when you heard some rustling coming from an alleyway. Then some banging. Then some yelling. Then silence.

Well that was ominous as hell.

...

Time to investigate.

You made your way down the dreary alley, groceries in hand, preparing yourself to see a murder scene or something of the like and...

...you honestly weren’t that far off.

You found yourself watching as a man pinned a guy to a wall, his head lowered to his neck. At first you felt yourself getting embarrassed, figuring that you had walked over and unintentionally interrupted a passionate moment. You quickly realized that wasn’t the case when you watched the guy go limp in the arms of the larger man.

After a few moments of you being the quietest you’ve ever been in your life, standing and staring in shock, not knowing what would even be the right course of action for a situation like this, he pulled away. The guy that had previously gone limp slowly slid down the brick wall, deep red trickling down his neck and pooling in the crook of his shoulder. The aqua-haired man let out a sigh as he wiped his mouth with his gloved hands, still unaware of your presence.

Your mind was blank when you spoke up, it had to be for you to do something so bold yet stupid.

“Is he dead?”

The man flinched, hard, and whipped around to lock eyes with you. You were met with two bright red dots staring back at you, stunned, you began to unintentionally study his face.

The dark crimson that you had seen on the possibly-dead man’s neck was also identifiable as a smear on this guy’s face, starting at his lips and trailing off along his cheek where he had tried to wipe it off. His lips were slightly agape, revealing a set of sizeable fangs, as well as other teeth that seemed sharper than a regular human’s teeth should be. Looking down further you noticed that his gloves were fingerless, presumably to allow the sharp claws of nails that he had to stick out.

Other than all of that though he looked like a pretty normal guy. A pretty normal guy with very pale skin, but normal nonetheless.

“I... huh..?”

You were so busy taking in his clearly inhuman appearance that you actually forgot what you had initially asked for a moment, but restated your question when it came back to you.

I mean, what was there to lose at this point? It’s not like running seemed like a very smart option.

“Him. Is... is he dead?”

You pointed at the man that was currently almost falling over in his slump to emphasize your point. The man in front of you took a double take between you and what may have been a dead body before responding, clearly taking in the absurdity of the situation, similar to you.

“He’s... no he’s... passed out I...”

He paused, blinking a few times as he tried to process what was even happening. You took the moment to look at the body a little more critically and, surprise surprise, noticed that he was actually breathing.

“I didn’t... I didn’t take much so he’s just...”

Didn’t take much?

...

Oh.

Oh shit.

Suddenly the whole ordeal just clicked in your brain as you finally understood what it was that you were looking at.

“You’re a vampire!”

The words left your mouth before you could stop them, shocked and questioning, almost accusatory as your eyes went wide.

He didn’t seem to like that though. His brows pulling together tightly in sudden concern as he frantically looked around for any other possible witnessess. When he reinitiated eye contact he appeared quite a bit more panicked than before, more like someone that had been caught doing something arguably wrong. He looked threatening for the first time throughout the encounter.

“You... what do you plan on doing..?”

Plan on doing? Like what you were going to do after this? Knowing that vampires did in fact exist and at least one lived in your city?

“Do you... ever kill them?”

He shook his head warily.

“Then... I don’t... think I care?”

He was surprised to hear that, to be fair though, so were you. You figured you would care more about catching a literal vampire in the act but... he wasn’t killing anyone so was it really any of your business?

“You... you don’t care that I just drink some of his blood???”

“I guess not?”

You let out a chuckle of disbelief at your own statement, any ounce of a threatening or intimidating expression had left his face.

“He’s not gonna, like... turn into a vampire or die of disease or something later, right?”

“No that’s uh, not how it works...”

“Then just like... I don’t know, make sure he gets cleaned up and home safe and this stays between us I guess.”

He let you know that that’s what he did on a regular basis and after a few more awkward moments you were on your way.

That definitely wasn’t your last interaction though.

He didn’t trust you to keep your word, you honestly couldn’t really blame him, and you ended up catching glimpses of him watching you from alleyways or tops of buildings at night. It was kind of worrying at first but eventually it got to the point that you would just smile and wave if you saw him.

Eventually he would wave back.

Sometime down the road and you learned his name. Months later and you found an odd friendship forming, starting with you asking him to come in on a particularly rainy night.

Even later and you found yourself developing feelings, getting to know who he really was. His personality, his struggles, his fears. He really wasn’t a bad guy, he just had no other choice since regular food did nothing for him.

After half a year of your strange friendship you found yourselves together, he had happily moved into your apartment and you had started to acquire blood bags for him to use instead of people. That didn’t stop him from drinking straight from the source every now and then... although, the source he used had definitely changed.

“I’m home.”

You leaned out of the kitchen to smile at Garcello, he returned it with a warm grin, shucking off his coat and tossing it to the side to land on your shared couch.

“Welcome back! How was your day?”

You greeted him with open arms as soon as he meandered into the kitchen, he swiftly took up your non-verbal offer and swept you into his strong arms. He buried his face in the crook of your neck and inhaled, sighing deeply through his nose as he melted into the embrace.

“It went fine, certainly not my job of choice but I think the interview went alright.”

You hummed in acknowledgment and nuzzled your head against his, pleased to have him back in your arms after half a day without him.

“I made sure to get bread and milk like you asked.”

You chuckled as you spotted the brown paper bag he had set on the counter.

“Thank you.”

He continued to hold you like that, peppering your cheek and jawline with a few kisses as he told you more about his day. Although, there seemed to be a shift in his attitude somewhere along the way. He suddenly went from sweet and giddy to much quieter, giving shorter answers when you asked him a question as he let you lead the conversation.

You decided to bring it up, just in case there was something wrong.

“Hey, are you alright?”

“Hmm?”

“You just... you went kinda quiet so I just wanted to make sure.”

He was perfectly silent as he thought over his answer.

“Yes, but... are you... working on anything right now?”

His tone was anticipatory, eagerly awaiting your response. You found yourself suspicious of his intentions.

“Well, no, I was just putting away some dishes that I was washiNG-!”

You were caught off guard by his tongue dragging across your neck in a smooth motion, tightly taking hold of the back of his t-shirt as he did so. You felt him smirk against your neck afterwards.

“That’s good... you see, I have a bit of a problem.”

“Y...y-yeah...?”

“Yeah...”

You flinched as he brushed one of his fangs against the top of your shoulder.

“The thing is, I’ve had a bit of a... craving today.”

One of his claw-like nails came up to trace along your sternum...

“It’s been just... driving me mad.”

Your collarbone...

“Itching the back of my brain...”

Your sternocleidomastoid muscle...

“Funny, right?”

Stopping and hovering just above one of your carotid arteries.

“Yeah... f... funny...”

His smirk grew in response to your reactions, nuzzling your neck affectionately with a huff.

“I guess what I’m trying to ask is...”

He tilted his head up to whisper in your ear.

“...would you mind if I had a little taste?”

Your eyes fluttered shut as you leaned into him, not even having to speak for him to know what your answer was. He had waited for that cue though, just like usual he would never drink from you unless he was certain that you were fine with it. Even then, you both had a very clear safe word that you had used in the past if anything went wrong or you changed your mind.

You didn’t really have to worry about that though. You knew you were safe in his hands.

He purred in response to your willingness, slowly walking you back and gently pinning you to the wall.

“God you smell good right now...”

He lowered his head back down to your neck, finding the spot that he had traced up to and licking a small stripe along it, pinpointing the location of your pulse.

“...bet you’d... taste even better though...”

He was gentle as always when he bit down, it only felt like a pinch until the aphrodisiac kicked in, immediately erasing any sense of pain you had. Being guided by one of his hands that had tangled itself in your hair, your head lolled to the side as he drank from you. A gentle moan erupted from your lips as your grip on his shirt went slack, your arms falling limp beside you as bliss took hold of your thoughts.

“F... fuck...”

He purred louder as you gave clear indication of your enjoyment. The hand that he had propping himself up against the wall fell and came to rest on your hip, gripping tightly as the hand he had on the back of your head made soft contact with the wall instead.

He cut himself off a little bit sooner than usual, pulling away just enough for you to watch him lick his lips and fangs clean.

He chuckled as the hand that raked through your hair slid down to cup your cheek.

“...I was right, you taste amazing...”

His expression didn’t lose it’s smugness though, usually when he was done he would take a much softer turn and patch you up immediately.

“Although, I think I might have put a little too much aphrodisiac in your system sweetheart...”

He was right, you felt like a rag doll right now, nearly putty in his hands as the only thing keeping you standing at the moment was his grip on your torso. Your eyes had glazed over slightly and you were practically panting at this point.

“...let’s do something about that, hmm~?”

[clairenatural]

Shy Nerd | Dean

Punk | Castiel

[ the world needs more of this]

college au! this ran away from me and ended up 2.2k whoops :’) i hope you like it! (also note i have no idea how motors work i am not an engineer)

There’s an open textbook on his bed, but Dean is ignoring it; instead, he’s scrolling aimlessly through Instagram. He doesn’t really understand Instagram, but Charlie had looked so shocked and dismayed when she found out he didn’t have one that he’d given in. He doesn’t post much—doesn’t have much to post, really, besides his car and LARPing with Charlie—but it sure is a good distraction from his physics work. He sighs and flops down on his back as he taps through stories. It’s a Friday night, so there’s all the usual parties, and clubbing videos, and group dinner shots. He frowns as he taps through Charlie’s story of a few of their friends playing D&D—he’d be there, too, if it weren’t for his exam. His physics final, on Monday, that he should be studying for. Instead of being on Instagram.

Dean is about to close the app and begrudgingly turn his attention back to his notes when he clicks onto one last story.

HELP NEEDED ASAP, it says, white against a black background, in all caps. Someone who is good at engineering. Or building. Or even just welding things. I’ll pay you, it continues, and then in pizza and beer. Please, in smaller font, directly below.

Dean pauses. He likes beer. And pizza. And building things. He could help out this—who posted this, anyway? It’s a name he doesn’t recognize. casanova.k. He taps on the profile picture. His eyes go wide.

Oh.

That guy. That guy from the hipster art party Charlie had dragged him to earlier in the semester, when she was still dating that art girl, and he’d ended up in a dark room thick with smoke, blurry with alcohol, talking to a guy about three levels of cool higher than him about…something he can’t remember. He just remembers hastily exchanging Instagrams as Charlie dragged him out of the party, ranting about her soon-to-be-ex.

And now he needs help.

Dean looks at his textbook. He looks back at the guy’s—Cas?—Instagram. He takes a deep breath and pulls up a message.

i like beer, pizza, and welding things

It’s smoother than usual, and Dean is proud of himself for about 2 seconds before he panics and ruins it: i’m an engineer, i mean. not just a rando with a thing for power tools, haha.

There’s an achingly long pause before Cas likes both messages.

This is how Dean Winchester ends up standing in the University’s metalwork studio, with 24 hours left until his final exam, staring at a multi-eyed, multi-winged, metal…thing.

It’s due next week, Cas had said. I know it’s last minute. The only studio space I could get was Sunday.

And Dean had said yes, like a fool, because he can never say no to boys in eyeliner with pretty eyes.

Now, staring up at the sculpture, Dean lets out a low whistle. Cas, next to him, groans and drags one hand down his face. “I know. It’s—this is why I need help, alright? I think I can still salvage it if I just—”

Dean, who has taken a few steps forward to admire the intricacies, looks up sharply. “What?”

Cas frowns back. “What?”

Dean shakes his head. “No, I mean—I’m not an art guy, but this metalwork is great, man.” He traces one of the welded seams. “You, uh. Obviously have good hands,” he continues, and then winces. Great compliment.

There’s a soft huff and Dean looks up to see Cas watching him, bemused. “My good hands,” he emphasizes it, and part of Dean wishes he could melt like solder. “Make me a good artist. They do not make me good at making things move.”

Dean blinks at him. “Excuse me?” Move?

Cas frowns again, but it’s more out of worry than confusion. His arms are crossed, and Dean tries very hard not to focus on the black ink swirling down his forearm. “I sent you the plans yesterday.” Now he’s chewing on his lip ring, too, and Dean rips his attention back to the steel structure to stop himself from focusing on that, either. He tries to think about these plans. He remembers getting the text, opening them……and immediately disregarding them in lieu of getting as much studying done as possible. Internally, he groans.

Externally, he nods, pretends to know exactly what these “plans” are. “Sure, yeah,” he covers, and hopes it’s convincing.

The metal…thing, because Dean still isn’t sure exactly what it is, has a cluster of wings in the middle—6, to be exact, and they’re poking up around 3 large rings. He reaches out for one of the rings, right between two of its welded eyes, and gives it an experimental push. It creaks, and sways, and Dean winces when he hears Cas suck in a breath behind him. “Sorry”, he mutters, but when he turns back around Cas is frowning at the art piece and not at him.

Dean is expecting to hear either it’s alright or, more likely, never touch my art again, but Cas just hums and steps up until he’s standing next to Dean. “What do you think this is?”

It’s the closest they’ve been since he arrived, and Dean takes a moment to observe the other student from this distance. He’s wearing black boots, black jeans. A t-shirt with a band on it that Dean has never heard of. His nails are black but the rings he’s wearing are silver, and so is the cross hanging around his neck. His hair looks like he either spent an hour on it or no time at all, and his eyes—like at that party, the one neither of them has mentioned yet—are rimmed in black. Dean, in his sneakers and second-hand jeans and faded Batman shirt, has never felt less cool.

“It’s an angel,” Cas continues, and Dean isn’t sure if he’s given up on waiting for a response or if he’d never expected one in the first place. “A biblical one. You know, the ‘be not afraid,’ kind.” He lowers his voice for the angel impression, which Dean didn’t think was possible. He doesn’t know what to do with the realization that it is.

“Don’t think this is what my mom meant when she used to say angels were watching over me,” Dean tries for a joke, and it’s half-hearted, but to his relief Cas chuckles anyway.

“Yes, well. The church preaches them as significantly more…cuddly.” Cas frowns. “It makes praying to them easier to sell.”

The cross around his neck is starting to get confusing.

“And these—these are gonna move,” Dean hazards a guess, reaching out to touch one of the rings again. “All of them?”

“They’re electrons,” Cas nods, which Dean supposes is an answer. “They should all circle the wings together, like the classic atom diagram. But I can’t—” Cas reaches out for the ring this time, hand landing directly above Dean’s. He pushes it, and it sways. Obviously frustrated, he pulls back. “I need it to be motorized, to look right. And I have the motor but don’t know how…to do it.”

And, well. That, Dean understands. He smiles and, in a burst of confidence, claps Cas on the shoulder. Cas looks up at him, startled, but his expression morphs into a soft smile at the look on Dean’s face.

“Let’s get her moving, then.”

He tries not to think about the time slipping away as Cas hauls out the motor, or when he hands Dean tools. He does not stare too long at Cas’ biceps when he’s screwing something in, or when they have to do last-minute welding. They get it hooked up, and it whirs to life, and Dean does not think about how late it is when Cas gives him a hug in his excitement, or when he promises to follow up on his beer and pizza promise at his apartment.

It’s there, back in Cas’ apartment, sitting on his living room floor, both a beer or two in, when Cas finally mentions it.

“You’re the one who gave me that idea, you know.”

Dean stops mid-chew and blinks at him. “Whg—” he swallows his bite of pizza and tries again. “What?”

Cas shrugs and doesn’t make eye contact. He picks at the beer label. “At the party we met at. The one we aren’t talking about, for some reason.”

Dean wants Cas’ ugly, blue, cigarette-smelling shag carpet to swallow him whole.

“You told me you don’t ‘get’ art,” he sets the beer bottle down to do air quotes, and Dean’s shame deepens. “Because you only ‘get’ science. And I told you they were the same thing. And you told me to prove it.”

Suddenly, it clicks, and Dean risks making eye contact. Cas catches his gaze and holds it steady, and he’s calm—not upset, Dean registers, which is a relief. “The atom,” he blurts out, and Cas grins. “Yeah.”

“Art and science.”

“Yeah.”

Dean is sitting up straighter now. “But, the angel—”

Cas sighs and pushes himself up from where he’d been leaning against the couch. He turns until he’s fully facing Dean. “Divinity,” he raises one hand, “and the core building blocks of humanity,” he raises the other. “Art,” he gestures with the first hand, “and science.” With the second.

Dean stares at him. “Are you calling art divine?”

“Art is an expression of divinity,” Cas shrugs. “Science is an explanation for it. But it’s—you know. The same thing.”

Dean wonders how he can say that so casually, so nonchalantly. He wonders what would happen if he crossed the pizza-box distance and kissed him.

“I’m sorry,” he blurts instead, and Cas raises his eyebrows. “The party, I didn’t think—I didn’t think you remembered.”

“I assumed you didn’t,” Cas counters. “But you did. You do. Why didn’t you text me?”

It’s exactly what he expected to hear and it still catches him off guard. “Um—” Dean stammers, trying to think of a good excuse. Cas is just watching him—not staring at, watching—brows furrowed.

With a heavy sigh, Dean settles on the truth. “Come on, man. Look at me,” he scoffs and stares down at his jeans, the already worn knees even worse after the day spent kneeling on concrete. “I’m an engineering dork who plays D&D on Fridays and you’re—” he waves vaguely in Cas’ direction. “You know.”

The frown has deepened. “I don’t.”

“Cool.” It sounds so juvenile to say it out loud.

Now, Cas looks taken aback. “Dean. We met at a party where I voluntarily listened to you talk about string theory for an hour and a half.”

Dean doesn’t know if that’s a compliment or not. He buries any possible blush with a swig of beer. “String theory’s cool,” he grumbles into the bottle.

“Yes.” Cas agrees. “And so are you. Although—” he pauses and tilts his head. “I could have sworn you were in physics, based on how much you talk—”

Dean is so caught up in Cas Novak calling him cool that it takes his brain a second to process the word “physics,” but when he does he nearly spits beer all over the ugly carpet. “Shit,” he swears, already starting to scramble up.

“What?” Cas is following him, frowning.

“Physics final. In—” he checks his watch, “—16 hours. I gotta—” he still has time to water down the beer, study, and get at least 7 hours of sleep before—

“…Why did you just spend all day helping me if you have a final tomorrow?” Dean pauses from where he’s trying to find his other shoe to glance back at Cas, who looks so genuinely baffled it shoots a warmness into Dean’s heart.

“You needed help,” Dean shrugs, finally locating the missing sneaker and pulling it on. “Good luck with the angel, though, okay? If it gives you any running issues, feel free to—”

He’s pulling on his jacket when he feels a touch on his arm and realizes that, sometime in the past 20 seconds, Cas has crossed the room to him. “Dean,”

Dean pauses, and Cas…looks nervous.

“I like D&D,” he offers, and Dean stares at him.

“What.”

Cas levels his gaze. “There is nothing more punk than dragons,” he replies, incredibly seriously.

Dean’s brain short-circuits.

Maybe it’s the adrenaline from the exam panic, maybe it’s the 1.5 beers, maybe it’s Cas’ hand still warm on his arm, maybe he’s still caught up in Cas calling him cool and maybe his brain takes an extra second to load his self-consciousness on its reboot, but—he leans down and kisses him.

Cas makes a small noise but kisses him back almost immediately—but then he’s pulling back nearly as quickly, and he gently pushes Dean back by the shoulders when he tries to follow. Not far enough away to be a rejection, just…enough. “You have an exam in the morning,” he says this like an apology, and the warmth in Dean’s chest grows. “Text me after?”

Dean nods, then pauses, realizes what Cas just said, and nods again. “Yeah, I—yeah, I will.”

“There’s not enough alcohol here for you to pretend to forget this time,” he teases, but he’s smiling.

Dean flushes anyway. “I’m sorry.”

Cas shakes his head and pushes him a bit. “Apologize tomorrow. Go.”

“Okay.” Dean doesn’t move.

“Okay,” Cas replies.

“Okay,” Dean says, and leans down to kiss him again, a quick one, because he thinks maybe he can.

“Okay,” Cas repeats, but his tone is fond. “Go.”

“Okay,” Dean repeats back. But this time, he does.

The next day, after he aces his physics final, he doesn’t pretend to forget.

[capt-spooki3]

By The Witch's Grace

Chapter Two

A Sbi "choose your own story" fanfiction

Click here for story description

Warning: cursing, mention of knives

4.5k words

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

The morning came faster than Y/n anticipated. Waking up to the early morning sun in their eyes and the soft chirping or singing of birds was normal. But what they didn’t expect, after years upon years of being alone and fearing any other human contact, was to hear soft voices coming from the direction of their kitchen. They got up slowly from bed, the anxiety building up in their chest even more as Poppy wasn’t lying on the bed as she was very morning. A knife laid on a dresser on the far end of their room that they snatchd quickly before creeping out their already open door and moving as quiet as they could down the hall. They took a good look at the spare rooms with the doors wide open when they usually are always closed.

They stopped at the end of the hall that led to the kitchen and dining room area to listen to whatever voices were speaking. Their brows furrowed, foggy recognition swirling in their half asleep and anxiety wired brain.

“Phiiillll I’m cold! Can’t you just, you know, make Wil go mess with the fireplace?”

“Tommy- shush! You’re gonna wake Y/n up. And no, we can wait until they are up. I don’t want to get into their things.”

“Hi Poppy, oh you are so cute, is your owner up too? Oh you’re cute.”

“...meow.”

Finally, it clicked in their brain and connected it to the people they let stay last night. Relief flooded through them in a wave causing them to let out an audible sigh, the voices in the kitchen immediately going quiet. Barley audible muttering followed before soft footsteps approached the hall and they felt their body tense up at this.

Suddenly a tusked face filled their vision and had them pinned to the wall before they could even think, his expression had them too terrified to move anyway. The grimace on his face was intense, pink eyes filled with concentration and they could swear there was a growl from deep in his chest. From this close though, they were able to see a bit of scruff growing along his face, it really was pink too like the hair on his head. He was off of them in an instant though as he recognized them as anything other than a threat. His features softened fast into something almost friendly. Almost.

“Ah- sorry, didn’t know that was you why do you have a dagger?” His sentences merged as his eyes settled to the knife they held at their chest. The hardened look beginning to return to his features, shifting ever closer to intimidate them.

“I- h-hold on, no no, it’s not. I’M not-” They panicked and pressed themself farther against the wall, breath growing faster and eyes darting around to find and escape. They knew they were no match for a man as large as him and would have no chance trying to fight.

Maybe choosing to trust the bunch so fast really was a bad idea.

Out of the corner of their eye, they could see Phil slide into view. His hair tied back and a spatula in hand with the the top of his robes off his top and showing the casual short sleeved shirt underneath.

“Techno, let them go, it's fine! I’m sure we just startled them, we're new here.” He said in a scolding voice to his son who looked at him in concern. Phil sighed and walked up to Y/n, guiding them past Techno and into the kitchen with a kind look and smile.

“Besides, remember they said that they haven’t had people home in a long time. I don't blame you one bit Y/n, I’m sorry for him. A bit protective, that one.”

They gave a soft laugh to accompany Phil’s laughter and walked to the kitchen counter to put the knife down. Looking over, Tommy was turned around in his chair to watch Phil in the kitchen and Wilbur who was across from him, wearing round thin rimmed glasses, waved at Y/n with a smile to which he easily received a wave back.

“Good morning, hope you slept well.”

“Gooood morning!” Tommy said with a raised hand to be a gesture of hello.

They nodded and looked over the food Phil had put together to cook, the thought of it being poisoned hung in their mind for a bit before they turned back to the boys.

“I did sleep well, thank you. I hope the four of you did as well, the snow storm must have left you all cold last nig- OH! It’s cold in here! I'm so sorry, let me go throw some wood in the fireplace.” They rushed out and started to hurry toward the main living area before Wilbur shot up, making them stop to look at him.

“Hey no no, just tell me where the wood is. I can do it.” He offered, briskly walking over to them and putting his hand on their shoulder. The tension in their body must have caught his eye because he retracted his hand.

“Oh um, it’s downstairs. The room you all came in through last night. It’s stacked against the wall.”

“Great, I’ll be quick.” Wilbur smiled and raced off, he must have been cold with how eagerly he ran off to get the fireplace up and running.

“Thank you uh- Wilbur!” They called out after him, not even knowing if he heard them. Shaking away the worry, they turned back to Phil who was busy cooking.

“And Phil, you didn’t have to cook. I can take over for you-”

“Absolutely not!” He raised up the spatula to emphasize his point, wings puffing up a little where they were smaller feathers next to where it connected to his body. That’s when they noticed how the shirt he wore was made specifically to accommodate his wings. The back was almost entirely cut out of it but connected around to appear like a normal shirt from the front.

They sighed and walked over to the counter, holding onto it as they leaned forward a tad.

“Can I help then?” They pressed but Phil wasn't able to retort before Tommy was breaking his little bit of silence.

“Or you could come talk to me, I’m bored as fuck over here. Come! Come, sit. I have questions.” He said in an intrigued tone, making both Y/n and Phil laugh a bit. They gave in and left Phil to cooking reluctantly and sat across from Tommy. He spun around to face them and his hands in front of him  with elbows on the table. 

Direcrecting their attention past Tommy, they watched Techno walk to Phil and lean on the counter to talk with him. Tommy was quick to get their attention again though.

"So what do you think of women?”

“Excuse me?” Y/n said with a laugh, not expecting the question. He just leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms as he let out a big breath.

“Hah… you’re pretty cool. So far. But! You see, a lot of people find me rather annoying when they first meet me. You don’t think so, do you?” He pressed and looked them square in the eyes.

“I mean- no. No you seem alright, pretty nice I’d say.” They were genuine. They wanted to be friendly with these people if possible, maybe make a friend, but their guard was way up still. There was still the small possibility the bunch was out to hurt them.

“Really!? Hell yes- oh I knew you were one fantastic individual.” Tommy exclaimed, getting up out of his seat, movements being very lively and animated. Wilbur walked up behind him to push him back down into his seat by his shoulder.

“Don’t worry you’ll find him annoying soon enough.” Wilbur shoved his younger brother a bit and looked at Y/n. They laughed and met his gaze, finding it odd just how much of his undivided attention he was giving them. He cleared his throat and looked away quickly and turned to speak in Phil’s direction.

“Um, so I checked outside to see how the snow was fairing. It’s still a blizzard out there and the snow is thick.” Wilbur looked back to Y/n with a sympathetic look. “Y/n I think we may have to overstay our welcome until the snow dies down and melts off a bit.”

“It’s no issue, you all are welcome to stay until you’re fit to leave, besides,” They stood up, looking at the family, “Maybe this will give me some good karma or something for the future.” Tommy scoffed and made a quiet retort they couldn't make out but didn’t waste time asking him about it. Y/n passed by Wilbur, giving him a friendly tap on the shoulder in return for his action earlier, and grabbed a loaf of bread from the counter.

“Phil, thank you for cooking, but that is all for you four okay? I have to go feed my livestock.”

“Y/n it’s freezing-” Phil tried to stop them but Y/n stubbornly butted in.

“I know, I’ll be fine though. Wouldn’t be the first time.” They took a chunk out of the bread and bit into it before setting off to get feed for the animals.

It took no time for them to get a large bucket filled with feed, they recently stocked up so there wasn’t any worry of running out. Quickly, they ran down to the basement where Poppy had run off to much earlier to give her food. Once they came back upstairs, they grabbed and carried the rather heavy bucket to the door so they could put on their cloak, hoping it would be enough to keep them warm.

With a deep breath to prepare themself, they lifted the bucket and went to open the door.

“Wait. Don’t go running off just yet.” Looking back, Technoblade was walking down the stairs and pulling on a thick shirt that seemed like it was one worn under his armor. He shook out his hair from the shirt and grabbed the bucket from Y/n who in turn looked at him. Surprised and rather confused.

“You didn’t really think Phil was going to let you walk out of here that easy did you?” Techno said with a soft laugh to himself, looking down at the feed thoughtfully as he answered himself, “No, he’s a stubborn man.”

Y/n couldn’t fight a smile, seeing the formerly guarded individual become soft at the thought of his father.

“Mhm clearly.” They added before opening the door up to thickly falling snow. The occasional strong gusts of  wind weren’t helping their situation either. “Sure you wanna join though? It’s not gonna be easy.”

Techno pushed past them into the freezing land that was their property, not seeming to care about even helping them and wanted to get this done.

Y/n closed the door, flipping up their hood and trudging out after the large man. The snow was easily covering their ankles already and still growing with no sign of stopping. They bumped into Techno's back when he stopped suddenly and looked up at him, backing up a little as they hadn't been looking out where they were walking.

"I don't know where I'm going." Techno said loudly over the wind in a tone that indicated they should have been in the lead in the first place.

"Oh- right um," They looked around to see where they were before walking closer to the tree line so they could walk along it. "It'll be this way!"

No words were passed between them from that point. Y/n tried to ask him questions on who he and his family were or where they came from when he was close to them, but the man only would grimace before walking on to empty the bucket for the few sheep they owned. The chores were done much faster than usual, not having time to sit and enjoy time with their animals in such weather.

Thankfully, Techno was quick to leave Y/n's presence once they passed through the doorway. No awkward standing around. Though they didn't blame him, he wanted to be back with his family other than a stranger. The feeling was mutual to an extent.

After ridding themself of the wet or dirty clothes and replacing them, they snuck down the hall to see what the group was doing. Phil, Wilbur, and Tommy were sitting at the table. Phil and Wilbur had empty plates in front of them while Tommy was still working on his food. The three of them were chatting quietly and occasionally one of them would wrangle Techno into the conversation who stood against the wall near the table, eating his own breakfast. They all looked so at peace here, like it was the first time they could just sit and chat and enjoy each other's company. 

Not wanting to intrude, even though it was their own home, Y/n left back down the hallway that connected the three rooms. Formerly the rooms were used for storage, but it wasn't too much of a mess to clean once it was needed. They didn't have the time to get out two old futons they had last night so, silently they worked on moving the makeshift beds in hopes to make the family's stay a bit more comfortable. With that idea in mind, Y/n spent the rest of the day until the evening with their mind on autopilot as they cleaned and tidied up the two rooms. The only thing making them stop was the deep rumbling of their stomach.

Smoothing out a blanket on the futon, they reluctantly left the room and trudged down the hall. The feeling of hunger and overworking themself was finally kicking in now. Entering the kitchen, they were surprised to only see Phil, sitting at the dining room table and peacefully reading an old book that they had long forgotten on the nearby shelf.

"Hey Phil, where are..the boys?" Y/n hesitated, hoping he wouldn't mind them referring to his sons as such. His smile as he looked at the book spoke all the words of reassurance Y/n needed.

"They are outside playing in the snow since it's not a blizzard anymore. Been a while since they have gotten the chance. What about you mate?" He looked up from the pages to look them over, "You seem tired."

"Ah, a tad. But I was going to make supper. How are you all with goulash?"

"Excuse me?"

"It's a type of soup, one my Oma taught to me. I'll make it for you all tonight, it makes a lot so it's perfect." Y/n said, their tone light. There was a bit of excitement in being able to cook for them. Something new. 

Phil closed his book and made his way into the kitchen, watching as Y/n scrambled around to make sure they had all the ingredients and mumbling to themself.

"I can help if you'd like." He offered and they stopped, contemplating it for just a moment before giving a quick reply.

"No, I've got this. You could keep me company though if you'd like. You seemed a little lonely."

He leaned back against the counter as he watched them work with ease. They must have made this recipe enough to have it memorized.

"Well I was thinking actually."

When he stopped, they looked at him to see him looking intently at them. 

"How can we repay you?"

"What?"

"I owe you my life, we would have frozen to death. You know that, Y/n. Please, how can we repay you for your kindness." Phil insisted with an intense look in his eyes. It was clear to see he put a lot of thought into the justification of repaying them.

"Well...I think you all will be spending a bit here so how about I get back to you on that, okay?"

He looked unsatisfied with such an answer, almost pouty with feathers fluffing a bit as he huffed.

"I just have to think about it, I promise!" They laughed as they tried to console him. "You clearly don't have anywhere else to go anyway. Not like I'll just kick you out once the snow clears." 

Phil didn’t seem like he was expecting to hear such a kind reason as instead of making some retort, he went quiet. A conflicted look on his face, he crossed his arms close to his chest. Staying quiet, but not leaving the kitchen while Y/n cooked. They didn’t try and press him to talk either with the new information of him desperately wanting to repay their kindness. It was a heavy thing to ponder. Do they abuse this? Or would it be smart to give some sort of half hearted and kind offer? Maybe they could ask for them to stay.

An unclear amount of time passed while they cooked, mostly in their mind and so was Phil it seemed, but the loud opening and closing of the door followed by Tommy's voice, as he almost raced to the kitchen, told them the boys were done outside.

“Holy fuck, I’m starving and that smells so good!” He ran over to see what Y/n was cooking, the childlike excitement and happiness was simply sparkling in his eyes. When not receiving a reply, Tommy looked up at Y/n quizzically which snapped them out of their trace.

“It’s goulash.” They told him and offered him the wooden spoon they were using to see if he wanted to taste. He looked at the spoon then them and seemed unsure on if he really was allowed. “It’s good.” is all they said before moving the spoon toward him again.

He took the spoon and tried the amount that was on it for him. His response came rather quick after taking a second to process the new taste.

“That’s really good, is it done?” He asked eagerly and looked at them. Y/n couldn't help but giggle a bit, almost giving in and ruffling his hair, but instead walked around him to grab five bowls and spoons so they could eat.

“Yeah, it is. Where is Wilbur and Technoblade? Did you leave them out there?”

Tommy just rolled his eyes with a little scoff, reaching over to gently take a bowl from Y/n’s hands.

“They got all pissed off at each other and are trying to kill each other in a snowball fight. I TRIED to get them to come inside, but noooo. Finding out who would win was more important.” he mumbled more, something about Wilbur and they heard their own name mentioned. Even though they couldn’t hear what was said, Phil sure did as he piped up quickly and reached over to lightly smack Tommy on the arm.

“Tommy!” He hissed with a displeased expression.

“Ow! What the hell!" Tommy glared back at Phil but after a second of silent communication between the two, he just sighed in defeat, “That was too much I’m sorry. Don't want Wil to beat my ass.” He snickered and Phil couldn’t help but join in a little. He kept a hand on Tommy’s shoulder when he reached over to take a bowl for himself.

“Thank you Y/n, I don’t mean to put the pressure on you to do this, but maybe you could yell at those two that it’s time to eat? I feel like they might listen to you.”

“Oh, of course. I hope you both enjoy it, I’ll be right back.” They set down the bowls, giving the spoons an extra tap on the counter with a glance back at them to tell them that is where the spoons were once they got their food. With that, they made their way to the front door, not really knowing what to expect. Y/n took in a deep breath and swung the door open just to be greeted by a hard snowball in the chest. They staggered back a step out of surprise, their hand on their chest then looked up to see Wilbur with his hands over his mouth and Techno dropping his arm full of snowballs as he doubled over laughing.

“OH MY GOD! Oh god- I am SO sorry!!” Y/n could see his face flushed red with embarrassment from here. They laughed a little at the situation and decided to take a bit of pity on the snow covered boys and not give into the urge to hurl a snowball at him

“Yep that’s- that’s alright. I just wanted to tell you that supper is ready, get your asses inside.” Their tone was light hearted as they brushed off the left over on their shirt.

“Right- right I’m sorry again, we will be right in!”

With that, Y/n closed the door and immediately heard bantering back and forth from the two though it was too muffled tpo make out the words. They made their way back into the kitchen to finally relieve their hunger to immediately be questioned.

“The fuck happened?” Tommy turned himself halfway around the chair, the same one he sat in this morning, to fully soak a possible scene.

“Well I opened up the door and got caught in the crossfire of their little battle out there.” They spoke while fixing their bowl, hearing Tommy wheeze out with laughter, “Needless to say, they are coming in soon.” 

As if summoning them, the front door opened up. Y/n hopped up on the counter to eat their food and see the boys walk in. Techno was first, raking a hand through his messy and wet hair with Wilbur right behind him. With the snow rapidly melting on them it was soaking their clothes even more.

Snickering a bit, Y/n turned their attention to their bowl, “I put all the spare clothes I had in both of the rooms. Please go change.” They sounded more like a mother than anything and Tommy sure found that hilarious as he busted out laughing again, leaving them to go change.

Nearly no time passed and they were back to get their food, Y/n being right there to direct them where the utensils and bowl were. The two went and sat at the table and the family began slowly chatting about little unimportant things. To Y/n, the peaceful chatter was pure music to their ears. As much as they hate to admit it, they deeply missed the little joys of a domestic life with others. Just the little daily things and being in the company of other people.

Happily, they ate in silence while the family was enveloped in their happy little bubble of conversation. Even once finished, they stayed on the counter and listened to the conversation until Poppy trotted into the kitchen with a big meow to tell Y/n she was hungry for her dinner. The meow was loud enough to make Wilbur stop talking to "aww" at the cat. Y/n hopped off the counter and washed their bowl before turning back to the cat.

“Alright baby, are you hungry?” Poppy meowed again and impatiently walked around so Y/n would follow her into the basement to eat. “Okay, you all can wash the bowls when you’re done. I’ll be in the basement if you need me. There is a set of stairs in the ground floor that leads to it.” With that, they waved the family off and followed their excited and meowing feline down to eat.

About 30 minutes had passed and they were sitting in the basement where  they had their magic things stored and three book cases which were filled. They sat in one of the two plush chairs that sat between the three walls of books, humming a soft song while flipping absentmindedly through a book and trying to find a certain page. Poppy was full and laying on their lap fast asleep

“Um, hey. Y/n?” Came the soft calling of Wilbur as he took a few steps down the stairs and meeting eyes with them. He looked around the room as he was curious to what it looked like but returned his attention to them. 

“Hi, do you need something?”

“Well, no, but the others are going to bed and I wanted to know if..” He trailed off, walking down the stairs to nearly the bottom while staring at all their books. "If I could come read with you, actually.”

Y/n was taken aback a little, but frankly the idea sounded nice. 

“Of course, I’m sure You will be able to find something here you like.” They  watched him walk to the farthest shelf from them and skim over it, trying to find a book.

“You know, I was never given the chance to sit down and read like this. But I’ve always wanted to learn,” He plucked a book off the shelf and turned it around to show them the cover, “About music.”

“Really?”

“Really. It has always been a topic that has enticed me. I used to write little songs in the small bits of free time I was so graciously granted.” He exaggerated as he plopped down in the chair beside them, not so slyly looking them over and smiling before getting comfy and opening the cover.

“I guess you’re in luck then, I have five or six other books on music and I think two that are filled with sheet music.” They said in an offer to him before flipping back through the book to find their desired page.

A few minutes of comfortable silence went on between them, Y/n occasionally seeing him look at them out of the corner of their eye. He took in a deep breath and adjusted his glasses then rested his head on his hand which was propped up on the arm of the chair.

“Do you play?”

“Excuse me?”

“Like, an instrument.”

“Oh, well, I used to. I played guitar though it’s been at least a year or two since I’ve even tried to play anything.” They laughed a little, glancing at Wilbur who was scanning his book.

“Have you been interested in learning anything else?”

“Oh absolutely, though I don't think I have the expenses to buy a new instrument from anywhere. At least not here.”

Wilbur hummed softly in reply, obviously thinking over their reply though the conversation died out after that as he seemed to become engrossed in the pages whilis Y/n found the page they had been searching for.

It would cross their mind a bit how nice this was. despite no talking, they were able to spend time with someone in their most comfortable environment.

Who would have known a snow storm would gift them people who weren’t here to hurt them.

People that wanted to get to know them even.

They could get used to this.

[Chapter Three]

___________________________________________

-tag list-

@can-i-fangirl-yet @spit-rot @sproudi @omgthatonenerd06 @acemt @wahman @m-etr3m8 @pog-sad-muffin @quiche-inoya @lea-the-foxe @sbi-is-my-onlysanity @smol-spoopy @chey-the-simp @p1gst3p @silvemistxe33 @cl0udy-grey @sweetchillipeppers @sharpcheese

(srry for the late mention I'm LITERALLY a boomer when it comes to tumblr-)