#BUT HERE YA GO THIS IS GARBAGE BUT HE'S A GARBAGE BOY SO IT'S OKAY!!!

[rustyironskillet]

Day 12: Time Travel

“Sooooo Phantom, do ya have any siblings?” Kid Flash asked as he tried to make small talk with the newest recruit to the team.

A few days ago, Young Justice was called to a meeting by Batman where he introduced their new team mate, Phantom. Phantom was a tough looking dude, he was jacked and towered over them all, even Conner!

Batman didn’t give them much information about the guy but apparently John Constentine was the one who suggested him for the team since he needed “community service hours”.

The dude was currently drinking some soda next to the computer as Red Robin searched for any new info on their latest mission. He turned his attention away from the can, and stared at Wally, his red eyes piercing into his soul.

“Why?” 

“Well we are all about to go on a mission together and none of us really know you so I think it’d be best if we all got to know you better,” that was half true. Mostly Wally was just being nosey, but the dude really did make everyone nervous since he was this really tough dude with blood red eyes and apparently was here because John Constentine said he needed community service hours???? Constentine typically say some wild shit, but what the fuck do you mean by community service? Wally knows you can’t use those for school, he’s tried, and what else gave you community service? Juvie and prison!!

Phantom stared at him hard for a few seconds, his eyes searing into the back of Wally’s skull before saying, “Okay fine”.

The answer surprised everyone in the room, I mean the guy had barely even spoken the last few days and had rejected every question about his personal life.

“Depending on how you see it, I have 2 to 4 siblings”

“Is your father a serial adopter too?” Tim joked.

“Yes and no”

“Huh?” 

“It’s pretty complicated,” Phantom shrugged, seemingly deciding to end the conversation there and taking another swig of his drink.

However, Tim, out of annoyances of every attempt to get to know this jerk being thwarted and a bit of confidence his family was more complicated, decided to challenge Phantom’s statement.

“Ehh, it probably isn’t as complicated as my family, we got about 50 more siblings adopted each month, all with lots much trauma”

At this, Phantom narrowed his eyes at Tim.

“I see what your doing, your trying to get me to talk tell you guy more about my family by acting like yours are more insane”

“Am I?” Tim asked, trying to hide the shivers going down his spine from the way Phantom was staring at him.

Phantom to a huge swig of his soda, emptying it and throwing it into the garbage, before fully turning to Tim.  

“You’re lucky I am always good for competitions, now sit down this is going to take a bit”

Tim gladly obliged and soon everyone sat around Phantom as if it were storytime in kindergarten.

“Okay, so at first I only had an older sister and my parents” Phantom began, “but then they died because of a mistake I made and I had to move in with my evil godfather”

Megan raised her hand and asked, “Isn’t a godfather someone who is very close to the family? Why would your parents choose an evil person?”

“‘Cause my dad was oblivious to this and though they were good friends even though the dudes tried to kill him multiple times”

“I see,” Megan lowered her hand, no less confused.

“There I went mad with grief and had him remove my humanity and tried to kill all of humanity”

“I think that was a bit of an overreaction,” Wally joked.

“You tried to kill all of humanity? Why weren’t we told of this when it happened?” Kaldur'ahm asked.

“That was in a different timeline, I was a big enough problem that they gods tried to kill the younger version of me to stop me, so to avoid dying, my younger version decide to try to defeat me and the only reason he did was cause I was underestimating him,” Phantom emphasized the last part because he had to stress he didn’t not lose to a 15 year old boy because he was weaker than him.

“What happened next?,” Artemis asked, completely inraptured in the story.

“I was then imprisoned for sometime before escaping, causing problems and then realizing that causing younger mean the same pain I experienced won't bring my loved ones back,” Phantom continued to explain, “so I am now going to therapy, doing community service, and got the majority of my powers taken away”.

“Is your therapist open to seeing new patients?” Konner asked.

“No, but this timelines version of my sister is and she has a lot of experience so I can give you her number instead”

“Sure, that’ll work”

“Okay,” Phantom said before writing her number down and handing it to Konner, “The thing is I can’t go back to living with my real parents because they don’t know that I am Phantom so I have to go back to living this timelines version of my godfather”

“You gotta be kidding me” Tim groans.

“Exactly what I said!!” Phantom put his arm up defensively, “Fortunately, this version is a little better, he is no longer tiring to kill my dad and has stopped chasing after my mom, he did clone the other of me and now there is a genderbent version of him but my godfather treats her like a princess and will not stop spoiling her, which I am also guilty of”

Phantoms continues to explain more and in the back of Tim's mind he remembers he was supposed to be doing something but honestly this conversation was too good to care.

“Anyways that's how I technically have 2 to 4 siblings, Jazz and Elle are permanently my sisters and I love them so much, and even though the other Jazz is technically the same as this Jazz, I still think of her as someone else, someone I miss dearly. Also if I considered this Jazz my sister, I guess I’d have to considered the other me as my brother”

“Damn bitch your family is crazy” Wally said, happy he finally managed to get through Phantom’s tough skin.

As they finished up their storytime, the Zeta-tubes activated and Red Tornado and an upset looking Batman walked to the group.

“You all were supposed to leave thirty minutes ago”

[talesfrommedinastation]

My redneck neighbor Doug watches 'The Bad Batch': Pabu

So, maybe it's because the Razorbacks are currently up over the Tigers, which makes Doug's LSU loving self extra fired up this evening, but I have made the mistake of asking him again about his opinion on the episode after 'The Outpost', which was 'Pabu'.

He called this both 'HR Goes to Daytona' and 'Did I miss an episode?'.

Doug: Make sure you put one of my Baton Rouge boys on the internet too right now. GEAUX TIGERS.

CW: Doug insults everyone, everything, and is generally a cantankerous old jerk in this one. His wife should have unplugged his internet. Lots of adult everything, ranging from language to...well, if you're under 18, please be warned.

Prepare thyself, especially if you're a TechxPhee fan. The amount of angry emojis I got in the text messages were pretty wild.

----

'Pabu' aka 'HR Goes to Daytona'

Oh it’s Church Lady and it’s Sunday service. Why is little orphan blondie in the bar with her? Daddy Rambo has his knife but you know the man was plowing vodka out of sight here. He’s tired.

I thought he hated Church Lady? Did I miss an episode?

Ah, now Ryan-from-Accounting is playing solitaire. Atta boy, get your mind off the bitch wife Laura. If he makes out with that garbage robot I’ll throw up. 

Time to skee-daddle. Woah! Church Lady just grabbed Ryan-from-Accounting. That man looks terrified, probably because he found a Youtube video of her taking down muggers behind Manning's after a Pelicans game. Bitch wife Laura gonna blow a gasket.

But such is the way of the Church Lady, I have known many in my day. “I groped the hot new usher in Jesus’s house, but it’s okay, The Lord forgives”.

(praise the Lord and pass the Tabasco)

No, seriously, did I miss an episode? I feel like I did.  

Houma-BBQ bitch is bitching, as is her wont. I wonder what sauce her tail would taste best with. Carolina Gold? I’d cook her brisket style. Oh, wait, back to the show. 

And now they’re on paradise! Daytona Beach! Who is this guy, he looks like he used to play hoops now he plays how much dessert he can eat at Golden Corral. Props to him, that lava cake is gold. Hope Rex and Toaster Strudel are there.

Where are Rex and Toaster Strudel.

No, really, where are Rex and Toaster Strudel.

I’m getting real mad here, where are Rex and Toaster Strudel. 

CHURCH LADY, GET BACK IN YOUR SPACE UBER AND GO FIND REX AND TOASTER STRUDEL. I DON’T CARE ABOUT YOUR MUSEUM OF SHIT YOU FOUND IN PEOPLE’S BACKYARDS AND THE DUMPSTER BEHIND THE KEY LARGO PUBLIX, GO GET REX AND TOASTER STRUDEL.

SHOVE RYAN-FROM-ACCOUNTING BACK INTO THE DRIVER’S SEAT, PAY FOR HIS GAS, AND GO GET REX AND TOASTER STRUDEL. 

“You have some competition”. From what, there’s gonna be a hot dog eating contest or something? Why does Ryan-from-Accounting look so upset? 

(“I think they’re trying to set him and Phee up, Doug.” “What, when did that happen? Did I miss an episode?”)

Ryan-from-Accounting looks either sad or excited and I’m so confused. Maybe it’s because I’ve been married since before the dinosaurs but why is he either frowning and freaked out by Church Lady or smiling at Church Lady? Is he having a breakdown like my nephew did after he lost his job? Does Bitch Wife Laura know about this? Does he like Church Lady or is he planning on pepper spraying her? Did I miss an episode? Is this how the children flirt on the Ticky-Tack? No wonder y’all aren’t getting married any more. 

(“Doug, you did not miss an episode. And it is called Tik-Tok.” “I MISSED AN EPISODE. I KNOW I DID, AND IT IS CALLED THE TICKY-TACK!!!”) 

Ya know who would solve these questions? REX AND MOTHER LOVING TOASTER STRUDEL, WHO AIN’T HERE. THEY NEED TO BE HERE. WHERE ARE YOU HIDING THEM CHURCH LADY. 

Oh lovely, Hoops forgot to make a reservation at BoneFish, so they’re having his gas station sushi. Not one shrimp or crab on that table? Y’all Hoops is failing so hard right now, as a boy from Louisiana I’m just offended. His momma raised that man WRONG. 

You know who would love sushi on the beach while watching the sun set? REX AND TOASTER STRUDEL, and Daddy Warcrimes and Sassy Park Ranger too. 

I MISS SASSY PARK RANGER ALREADY!!!!!!

But no, Rex and Toaster Strudel are busy at work saving the galaxy while Julio and the gang throw back cocktails and stare at the sun like they dropped cheap acid they bought in a sketchier part of Biloxi. Which is all of Biloxi, I guess. 

Oh, and Ryan-from-Accounting is awkward around Church Lady and stares at his phone lest that Bitch Wife Laura of his get a snap of them sitting together and Little Orphan Blondie pets a monkey. I hope they all get food poisoning. I’m so mad.

They need Toaster Strudel the way I need FSU to lose this weekend, I have money on that game too. WHY IS ARKANSAS STILL UP IN THE SECOND QUARTER.

Ah, Little Orphan Blondie’s on a boat with her new buddy, that’s nice. If she doesn’t find Rex and Toaster Strudel out in the ocean with James Cameron I hope–oh, shoot, I was in the navy. I know what that water means. Oh boy.

Well bless Ryan-from-Accounting, he watches Big Tuna and knows how to do a rescue. Church Lady looks happy. He finally touched her, it only took a natural disaster and a whole lot of nagging on her part. Oh, poor Church Lady, you need a guy who actually likes you back. 

Seriously, why does that man look like the subject of them shitty videos HR makes us watch once a year so we don’t get sued? I don’t know, but I’m starting to understand why his Bitch Wife Laura is the way she is. I can’t believe the episode they filmed in Daytona makes me feel for her, but it do. 

(“Doug, you’re making up Bitch Wife Laura in your head. She’s not in the show.” “Well, it’s clear that I missed some episodes, so maybe I missed the Bitch Wife Laura ones.” “No, you didn’t miss any, I promise.” “Are you SURE?!”)

Man, the tsunami got people running like it’s Black Friday Wal-Mart in Tampa. But they rescued an old guy and Daddy Rambo got the stolen work truck working to rescue the kids. Hooray, I guess. 

You know who would have done a better job? Of all of this?

REX AND MOTHER-LOVING TOASTER STRUDEL. But they ain’t here!

(Doug's love for them runs hard and it runs deep, for which I can empathize)

You know who should have been on a beach horking down Mai Tais and getting into Church Lady and her handsy hands?

POOR POOR SASSY PARK RANGER. BUT HE DIED BACK IN WYOMING.  I bet he’d love a back massage from Church Lady too! He’d sass her, she’d sass him back, and they’d make out on the beach while Daddy Warcrimes played the saxophone behind them or something. I support that. I’d like that. He’s got brown eyes.*

Make it work, Star Wars, damn it. 

(Doug has unlocked a new rarepair, I guess: Mayday and Phee? WTF?)

Well they’re hanging out here in Daytona for the time being, I guess. Julio passed out under a tree like a drunk uncle at a cookout. Everyone's smiling.

I’d be smiling too, knowing that REX AND TOASTER STRUDEL ARE ACTUALLY SAVING PEOPLE WHILE YOU CLOWNS STOMP AROUND FLORIDA. 

Stop smiling at Church Lady, Ryan-from-Accounting! Is it because you finally filed HR complaint paperwork or because you filed for divorce papers from Bitch Wife Laura? Why are you smiling?! Church Lady belongs to Sassy Park Ranger! 

(“Doug…Sassy Park Ranger’s dead. He and Church Lady never met. You need to stop.” “IF THEY CAN BRING PALPATINE BACK, THEY CAN BRING SASSY PARK RANGER BACK TOO!”) 

*=I NEED FAN ART OF THIS NOW, please @amalthiaph! Help me out!

[roomsofangel]

GROWING PAINS . . . # CHAPTER ONE !

synopsis you hated christmas. simple. this year was no different, the only thing changing was the scenery when you decide to let your older brother, yunho convince you to visit your grandmother who neither of you had met but hoped it would do some good. everything was still the same — writer’s block, the winter loneliness, the way yunho won’t stop singing jingle bell rock, yeah, everything was the same. at least, until a certain blonde haired boy made it his mission to melt your iced heart.

warnings none

wc 745

if you’d like to be added to the taglist please either send an ask in my inbox or leave a comment to be added to the taglist! reblogs and comments are also very appreciated! ^_^

your hand held the pen with a firm grip, shakily tracing a few squiggled lines on your clean sheet of paper that wouldn’t be for much longer, teeth sinking into your bottom lip enough to draw the taste of metallic. “this is bullshit.” you set the pen down on the desk, running your fingers through the strands of your hair with a slight tug at your scalp, “do you think i’m allowed to fail?” you called out to your brother who walked in with his hands to his head, towel being used to dry his fresh out the shower hair

“you can just finish it after the trip,” yunho shrugged, aiming the towel to the side while you heard him mumble that he’d get that later and hurried to raid the refrigerator for orange juice, “need apple by the way,” he voiced while scavenging for a glass

you groaned, scrunching the paper into a ball and throwing it into—missing—the garbage can. “i want to do it now though,” you leaned your head back to watch your brother who looked as if he was a kid on a sugar rush, pouring his juice and grabbing a quick granola bar before slipping on his jacket and shoes while stumbling

“who knows, maybe you’ll find muse there,” he replied with a teasing tone, a kissy face being cut short by you aiming a pencil to his chest, “hey! i’m sensitive, ya know!” exaggerating a few of the words before laughing it off, “but come on, we need to get going, you got your bag?”

you scoffed, “of course i do,” leaning to the side to grab your drawstring bag before standing, “you ready?”

yunho hummed, and that was enough of a response for you. both of you sharing the same mutual thought.

no, the fuck not.

“do you think she’ll like us?” you couldn’t help but ask outloud, kicking a small rock on the ground while you walked alongside your brother up the driveway of your grandma’s house, glancing at yunho who shrugged, hands shoved into his jacket’s pockets

ears red and nose rosy, yunho cleared his throat, “she didn’t even like dad,” he amused, but you saw right through it. he was worried about the same thing.

three knocks on the door were made while you looked around the unfamiliar neighborhood that made you feel small. compared to the small overloaded home you and yunho were raised in, this seemed like a five star resort.

“is she even here?” you asked, and yunho pulled out his phone in a haste, checking the time and dialing a number

“let me check.”

“you mean we came here and you don’t even know if she’s home, yunho?!” you shrieked, your bag falling onto the ground as you found yourself running your fingers through your hair, hands on your head before you sat on the benches that resided on her patio, messing with the strings from your worn out jeans

your eyes scanned the neighborhood while you blocked and muffled out yunho’s ranting and worrying, gaze locking on a guy who had his hair tucked into a beanie and hands stuffed into his pockets while he had a mask covering most of his features. his eyes were pretty, catlike even.

messing with your chipped nail polish, you froze at the sudden turn he had done, eyes locking with yours. the cold winter air suddenly felt like summer heat and you blinked a few times to look at the ground, more-so at your hands that were getting a bit too cold

“okay, key’s under the mat, she’s out grocery shopping,” yunho ended the call and aimed the next conversation with you who nodded in response, standing and dusting yourself off while he kneeled down and lifted the corner of the WELCOME doormat to see a silver key. an extra. thank god.

hearing the click and the door opening, “thank fuck,” yunho muttered before entering, you walked up to the doorway and turned to look at where you remember seeing the pretty stranger

and much to your bittersweet dismay, he wasn’t still looking at you. instead— he was raking up snow from the lawn, this time without his mask and singing under his breath, or at least you assumed with the rhythm of dance he was showing while mouthing something—that, and you noticed the airpods in his ears while he stayed focused on his task.

maybe the temporary stay wouldn’t be too bad.

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[sw33theartnick]

You're Okay {Jurassicshipping} | Yu-Gi-Oh! GX Oneshot

“Stop being a wuss! It’s just a horror film!”

“I don’t wanna watch it!”

“Relax, Sy, it’s probably just a really crappily made horror film.”

“No it’s not! Slasher Movie 10 is a classic!”

Movie night in the Slifer Red Dorms had never been so chaotic. It was Chazz’s turn to pick a movie to watch, and naturally, he chose one of his favorites that he wanted everyone to watch – Slasher Movie 10, the best and most horrific one in the entire franchise. Everyone had agreed to it… well… except one person. 

“Guys! Can’t I just go into a different room or something…?” mumbled Syrus, tense in all shapes of the word as he shifted uncomfortably on Chazz’s couch. His cheeks flared from embarrassment as all eyes laid on him. 

“No wussing out! Last week, we all had to sit and watch your Pretty Little Pegasus and Dark Magician Girl movie!” Chazz huffed out with his arms crossed, “and that was garbage!”

“N-No it wasn’t! Your taste in movies is bad!” Syrus fired back. He crossed his arms and huffed out, turning his head to the side. Jaden was sitting on his right, looking down at Syrus with a big grin on his face. 

“C’mon, Sy! It’s true, and it’s just a movie, after all, it can’t hurt you,” Jaden tried to convince Syrus to stay – it wouldn’t be the same if he left. Syrus felt all eyes on him, and he frowned a bit, feeling tense. 

“Sy don’t gotta watch the movie if he don’t wanna,” Hassleberry chipped in. He was sitting on Syrus’ right, glancing down at the Syrus’ trembling figure. The trembling was barely noticeable but… couldn’t exactly escape the perspective eyesight of someone with dinosaur DNA coursing through his veins. 

“We made an agreement that we all have to sit together and watch a movie every Saturday, together!” Jaden whined, “it wouldn’t be the same without Sy!” Alexis, Bastion, Jim, Jesse, Aster, Atticus, and even Axel nodded in agreement. It was true – the friend group had come to an agreement that each Saturday, someone would pick a movie to watch, and everyone would have to watch it. It was a stupid rule, but at the time, it didn’t seem like a bad idea. The movie nights were meant for everyone to have fun and hang out together, but that included everyone or else it wouldn’t be the same. Shoulders slumping, Syrus admitted to defeat. He was just gonna have to sit there and endure the horrific movie. 

“Fine…” the light haired boy replied. Could he get anymore down on his luck than he already was? The group started to disperse only briefly, grabbing out snacks that were saved up for the movie night, along with blankets, pillows, and other necessities for the perfect movie night. For a few minutes, it was just Hassleberry and Syrus lingering on the couch within the room. The short boy sat with his hands clutching tightly to his pajama pants, trying to not to tremble. How bad could a movie titled ‘Slasher Movie 10’ be? It was probably just going to be a cheesy horror flick, knowing Chazz. It shouldn’t be something to worry about. Syrus could handle it, for sure!

“Private, you sure about this?” Hassleberry’s voice broke the silence, “there ain’t any shame in backing out.” 

“I’m sure… everyone’ll be bummed out if I don’t stay,” Syrus pursued his lips, “it can’t be that scary, right? I mean, it’s Chazz we’re talking about here. I doubt he’d pick something genuinely scary. It’ll probably just be one of those cheesy horror flicks! I’m not worried.” Syrus lied through his teeth though, his hands shaking. Even cheesy horror flicks could be scary… well, at least for Syrus. Hassleberry’s eyes softened a bit, and worry clutched at his chest. Movies were meant to be fun, and Hassleberry didn’t fancy that Syrus wouldn’t be having any fun here. His cheeks flared a little bit and he cleared his throat

“If ya get scared, you can hold onto me,” Hassleberry murmured out quietly, but just loud enough for Syrus to hear. The short boy’s eyes widened and his face flushed redder than the Slifer Red uniforms. 

“W-What? D-Don’t be ridiculous! I-I don’t need that–!” Syrus shook his head. Hassleberry flinched a bit, but he didn’t take it to heart. Syrus probably didn’t mean it in an odd way, but maybe he shouldn’t have offered. After all, it was considered a “girl” thing to be all cuddly with one another, especially watching scary movies together. It shouldn’t have been, but maybe Syrus’ family taught him it was. Before Hassleberry got a chance to reply, the others arrived back into the living room. Chazz turned off the lights, and now the only light came from the large television screen. 

“I’ve got blankets and pillows,” Jim pointed out, “only a few, though.” Jim began passing out the blankets and pillows to everyone until there was one large pillow and blanket left. He handed that off to Hassleberry and Syrus. “Sorry fellas, you’ll probably have to share this one or fight over it.” 

“No problem. Thank you, soldier,” the black haired boy nodded, before adjusting the pillow behind him and Syrus’ heads, making sure it fit them both. He then tossed the blanket over both of them, and got a bit closer to Syrus. He was pleased that Syrus didn’t move away – it was easy to read Truesdale’s expressions and body language. He wasn’t shaking as much as he was before, and he looked a bit flustered, but not uncomfortable. Hassleberry knew the jokes his friends would make about him, about how he would sometimes ‘not be so bright’, but he was a lot more observant than they thought. “Sy, you mind? The blanket’s big, but y’know.”

“D-Don’t mind,” Syrus shook his head and cleared his throat a bit. 

“Alright, dorks, I’m gonna start the movie,” Chazz went over and put the movie on, sitting down as Alexis handed out snacks to everyone. Soon though, everyone was in their respective seats that they wanted to be in. Hassbelerry, Syrus, Jaden, and Jesse took up the long couch, while Jim and Alexis were cuddled up on one of the smaller couches. Jesse and Jaden the same while the others were spread out. The movie started, and Syrus shifted a little. How scary could this movie really be? He inhaled and exhaled, adjusting his glasses. This movie couldn’t be that bad! Syrus convinced himself it was nothing to worry about, that he had no valid reason to be worried. It was just a movie, he told himself. That’s what Jaden said originally. It was just a movie and it couldn’t hurt Syrus. Most movies were fictional… but some were based on true events… was this movie one of those? It couldn’t be! Not with a name like ‘Slasher Movie 10’... no way. The more he over-thought it, the more he could feel his chest bubbling. Something didn’t feel right. Biting his bottom lip, Syrus watched as the movie played on. It started  as just another creepy story – a doll made of pure porcelain was found in the attic of a family that just moved in. It couldn’t get any more scarier than that, even if the plotline was used quite often. 

“How you doin’, private?” Hassleberry whispered – luckily for him, Chazz had made the movie’s sound so loud that any quiet conversations would be unheard by everyone else.

“Fine…” Syrus murmured quietly. He didn’t feel fine. The doll was creepy looking, and the story behind the doll was horrific. 

“Can’t lie to me, Sy,” Hassleberry spoke quietly, glancing down at the short boy, who’s figure started to tremble again. It wasn’t unlikely that the others would tease and make fun of Hassleberry and Syrus if the pair got cuddly – sure, Jaden and Jesse were a thing and stuff… but Hassleberry hadn’t come to terms with the fact he’d have to tell Syrus how he felt about him. That wasn’t fun. Hassleberry never had a thing for guys until he met Syrus. He always liked girls, even before he’d come to terms with the fact he wasn’t a boy at birth. Syrus had changed a lot for him, and sure, the two had it rough at first, fighting over who was Jaden’s best friend. That was ridiculous now, though, and his eyes softened a bit. He shouldn’t have been afraid, though, because Syrus looked like he could use some comfort. The others meant no harm, but Hassleberry could see that this was a bad idea to force Syrus to watch a horror film. Should he do something? He wasn’t sure what to do exactly. Hassleberry didn’t want to touch Syrus affectionately without his permission. 

… And there came a jumpscare. The silly protagonist’s husband had tried to get rid of the cursed doll for a decent portion of the movie, not enough to be boring, but enough to build a haunting atmosphere that increased in each minute of the film. The husband had gone to sleep for the night… only to toss and turn, and open his eyes. Everything seemed fine, until he sat up, and the doll jumped from the ceiling, ultimately killing the man with a slashing blade. Syrus jumped a bit, and before Hassleberry had a chance to react, Syrus was clinging onto him. Meek arms wrapped around Hassleberry’s muscular and bigger figure, and he was left speechless, seeing Syrus sink under the blanket with his head against the dino duelist’s chest. Hassleberry’s face flushed and he felt his chest tighten, trying not to freak out from the amount of emotion he was feeling right now. The guy he had a thing for, the guy who changed his whole world… and Syrus was cuddling him. It made him feel happy, but he tried not to get too excited – Syrus probably was just seeking comfort, so he jumped to someone who could give him that. 

If that was the case, why didn’t Syrus jump to Jaden – someone he’d known for much longer than Hassleberry?

It was that thought that changed his mind’s process. If Syrus just jumped to someone for comfort, he would’ve jumped to Jaden. They had known each other since first entering Duel Academy, so it made sense that Jaden would’ve been the one Syrus clung to, but he didn’t. 

“H-Hassleberry… I-I’m scared…” it was quiet, but the dino duelist heard it loud and clear, even over the loud volume of the movie. Hassleberry’s chest tightened in his ribcage and he tensed up. Underneath the blanket, he hooked an arm around Syrus’ small figure, holding him close. He could feel just how scared Syrus was in his hold, biting his bottom lip a little bit. Damn. He wished the others hadn’t sort of forced Syrus to do something he didn’t want to do. The poor thing would probably be traumatized for life now because of this movie – he’d ever be able to look at a doll the same. 

“Oh, you guys are watching Slasher Movie 10? Dude, that movie is like, garbage,” Chazz paused the movie when he heard Aster’s voice, and the gray haired boy entered into the dorm room, hands on his hips. “Got any room for me? Pro dueling has been stressing me out, I need a good thing to laugh at.” 

“Garbage?! Shut your mouth, Phoenix! This is a classic!” Chazz exclaimed. Even the bickering wasn’t enough to ease Syrus’ nerves. The short man still clung desperately to Hassleberry, his head only briefly peeking out from underneath the blanket. Aster walked to one of the couches before getting comfortable himself. 

“What part are we up to?” Aster asked. 

“The part where the doll kills the husband and starts using him as a possessed toy to spook the other members of his family,” Jaden stated, “this movie’s got no shame being scary.”

“I’ve seen scarier. Haunted in Hell is a personal favorite of mine,” Aster smirked, “it’s about someone who gets the death penalty for all the crimes he’s committed and he’s sent down and forever tortured in Hell. Some deep stuff.” Syrus shuddered at that. A movie about eternal torture? He could only imagine just how terrifying that was. He shuddered, displeased even. 

“Of course you’d watch something where a criminal gets punished like that,” murmured Chazz, “now, can we go back to watching the movie? I’m getting bored here.” The others sweatdropped a bit, the kind of cold sweat that was a bit awkward – it had hardly been any time at all wasted! Syrus sighed quietly as he could hear the movie being unpaused, and silence overtaking the group of people. Sure, he couldn’t see the movie anymore, being under the blanket and all, but he was still pretty frightened by the grotesque sounds. He clenched tighter onto Hassleberry, and in return, Syrus could feel Hassleberry’s arm around him tighten its hold, as though trying to comfort and shield the short boy from the fearful things on the screen. It didn’t help that Chazz’s dorm room had surround sound so… the gross sounds were everywhere. Syrus shuddered, and pressed his head into the side of Hassleberry’s chest. The entire time, the strong boy was sitting with his face flush, keeping Syrus as close to him as possible. It was odd… Syrus never expected Hassleberry to smell nice. He expected him to smell like sweat, something what people would consider more manly. Hassleberry smelled nice, though. Syrus couldn’t put his finger on it. He rested a bit more snugly against his friend, his cheeks flaring a bit. Despite the fluster, he still felt… oddly happy like this in Hassleberry’s arms – it wasn’t something he ever considered. His chest tightened a little bit, and for a few moments, Syrus felt like he could fall asleep right in Hassleberry’s arms.

… Until the sound of a gut-wrenching jumpscare could be heard, and despite not seeing it, Syrus jumped. Hassleberry tugged him closer, and conversations from the others could be heard.

“Damn, he just… killed himself to save his kids? That’s tragic,” Jim replied.

“I knew that was going to happen,” Aster rolled his eyes, “a cliche.” 

“It's not cliche! You’re just boring!” hissed Chazz. The others laughed at the banter, but Syrus didn’t. He clutched onto Hassleberry’s pajama shirt, his hands trembling. He tried to think happy thoughts, tried to stay calm. Hassleberry’s comforting embrace helped though, and Syrus never saw the day he’d be this comfortable with him. He calmed down a little bit, still trembling in Hassleberry’s hold. The movie went on, and continued. The movie was frightening, and overall, wasn’t even remotely enjoyable for Syrus – or for Hassleberry. A horror movie about a possessed doll? Yeah, no. Now, Hassleberry wasn’t scared of porcelain dolls in any means, but he wasn’t a fan of something so grotesque. He wished he could sneak Syrus out of here so he didn’t have to sit through the rest of the movie, but saying he fell asleep wasn’t a viable option. Everyone here knew Syrus – he would never fall asleep if he was this scared. Maybe Hassleberry could use an excuse that Syrus was so scared he’d passed out from fear but… eh… that wasn’t a viable option, either. Damn it! He wasn’t sure what to do to get Syrus out of this awful situation; he’d already experienced too much of this unpleasant movie. 

“H-Hassleberry…” Syrus murmured softly, tugging on Hassleberry’s pajama top. The boy looked down at him, though Syrus remained hidden underneath the blanket. 

“What’s up, Sy?” whispered the dino duelist in return.

“I-I’m sorry…” Syrus whispered once again, and Hassleberry was left confused. 

“You got nothing to apologize for, private. The others should be doin’ that; they’re making you watch this awful movie. Everybody’s afraid of somethin’, they should’ve been respectful of what you were afraid of,” the black haired boy nodded, clutching Syrus closer than before. This time, the short boy didn’t reply, but Hassleberry could tell that Syrus softened up a bit to his words, and it made his heart warm. Innocent intentions often could cause harm to others, and Hassleberry knew that. Everyone wanted Syrus there because it wouldn’t be the same without him, and they wanted to spend time with him – but that left Syrus in an awful position where he felt guilty for chickening out, and decided that he should force himself to stay and watch a movie that’d definitely give him nightmares. Another jumpscare came with screams and gut-wrenching noises… and when Syrus let out a quiet whimper, enough was enough. “C’mon, we’re getting out of here.” Hassleberry scooped Syrus up on his arms, keeping the short man covered by the blanket, before turning on his heel after getting off the couch. He hoped no one would notice – thankfully, no one did, and if they had noticed, no one made a comment. Hassleberry snuck out of Chazz’s dorm room while carrying Syrus, before heading back to their shared dorm room. Once inside, Hassleberry carefully placed Syrus down on his bed after managing up the bunk bed ladder, and he sighed softly. “How’re you doin’, soldier?” Syrus poked his head out from the blanket. 

“Y-You tell me–!” he exclaimed, shifting to remove his slippers, tossing them off the edge of the bunk bed, “how am I supposed to get any sleep tonight…?” It was a rhetorical question, not one to be answered, but Hassleberry decided he wanted to give him an answer anyway. 

“Cause you won't be alone, Syrus,” Hassleberry removed his shoes, “scoot over, will ya?” Syrus’ face flushed, but he didn’t retort anything, scooting over on the bed. Hassleberry tossed his slippers down before climbing into his bunk, sliding underneath the blankets with Syrus. “You’re still tremblin’ like a leaf, private.”

“Y-You would too if you just watched a scary movie and you were scared of it! They’re all gonna have our heads for leaving, you know!” Syrus bickered, but Hassleberry didn’t reply to that. He wrapped his arms around Syrus loosely, tugging him only slightly close. He could tell Syrus was trembling from the way the blankets shook lightly, and it was painful to witness. To think, all this could’ve been avoided if everyone considered Syrus’ feelings, but like usual, Hassleberry seemed the most in tune with Syrus’ emotions. 

“Yeah, you’re right. It didn’t scare me, I don’t got a clue what you’re dealing with,” Hassleberry admitted, “but you’re scared right now, and that’s what matters right now.” Syrus tensed a bit further, but he tried to calm himself down, tensing a little bit as he swallowed tightly. Hassleberry really did seem to understand this, didn’t he? Syrus would always make comments about how Hassleberry wasn’t the most observant, but maybe he was indeed wrong. 

“You’re putting t-to much of an effort into a crybaby,” murmured the machine deck duelist, who swallowed tightly. Why did he feel scared? Was it perhaps he was worried Hassleberry would realize Syrus wasn’t worth the time, and he’d leave him all by his lonesome? He wanted the words back as soon as they left his lips but… that was difficult, considering it was impossible to take words back. 

“Yeah,” the tall boy spoke, “but I don’t regret it. Sy…” Hassleberry heaved a sigh as he tensed up, “Sy, I like ya. I like ya a lot.”

“L-Like… l-like bros, right?” Syrus asked, blush creeping on his cheeks.

“No,” Hassleberry replied. He was brave. He could do this. He wouldn’t be afraid of doing this, it needed to be said. “I like you how Chazz used to like Alexis… except less annoying and less pushy.” Hassleberry thought on his words, however, and pursued his lips. “... It’s alright if you don’t feel the same. I get it. I’m real sorry if I made you uncomfortable.” There was silence that overcame the two of them, but Syrus didn’t jerk away from Hassleberry after that confession. It was just quiet, and for a good while, the dino duelist had assumed that the machine duelist had fallen asleep. If that was the case, then Hassleberry wasn’t even worried about whether or not Syrus heard his confession… but he wasn’t sure if he’d ever be able to say those words again. They were hard to say once, but twice without knowing where Syrus’ feelings lied? That was the real scary part. 

“I-I think I like you too…” Syrus had broken the silence after what felt like ages, “l-like… t-the same way you like me. I never… I never really liked a guy up until you…”

“... Yeah, me neither,” murmured the black haired boy, “something to adjust to, I guess.” Syrus nodded his head, and the two fell silent again, but only for a few moments. “... So are we like… a thing now…?”

“I-If you want…” mumbled Syrus.

“Sy, I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want it,” the muscular boy chuckled a bit as he clutched Syrus closer, “get some shut eye, private. You earned it from battling all the fear you endured tonight.” Syrus nodded. He felt comfortable, like he would be able to sleep. He felt the comforting warmth take over him, and he soon fell asleep. Hassleberry smiled a bit, watching the way Syrus snuggled up into him. He was relieved, happy that the horrors of that damn movie had washed away somewhat. Hassleberry himself ended up falling asleep, more comfortable than anything in Syrus’ embrace. 

* * *

The dino duelist crawled out of the bunk bed when he heard the sounds of movement outside. He didn’t wish to wake his beloved up, so he carefully made his way down the bunk ladder and slid into his slippers, popping out to see his group of friends hanging out on the balcony railing, talking about the movie. He grew a bit annoyed, and when Jaden saw him, things changed.

“Hey Hassleberry! Where’s Sy? You guys left earlier,” Jaden pointed out with a frown on his lips, “why?”

“Cause Syrus was scared,” Hassleberry frowned, and his eyebrows narrowed, “sergeant, usually I’m on board with all your decisions, but this one I just can’t get behind. You guys all forced Syrus to sit through a movie he didn’t like.”

“But he made us sit through–” Chazz didn’t get to finish his sentence. 

“Did that movie make you uncomfortable? Did it give ya nightmares?” Hassleberry retorted, crossing his arms. No one answered. “Didn’t think so. I think you guys should apologize to the little fella tomorrow, cause he wouldn’t make you guys watch something that’d downright traumatize you, and I don’t wanna hear any ‘ifs’, ‘ands’, or ‘buts’ about it!” The others were silent, before each of them nodding their head in agreement, even the more difficult ones agreed to such. Hassleberry turned on his heel and entered the dorm he shared with Syrus and Jaden, with Jaden following behind after bidding goodnight to everyone else. 

“Where is Sy?” Jaden asked, being greeted with a stern glare from his taller friend.

“He’s asleep in my bed, and hush up, you’ll wake him up,” Hassleberry scolded before slipping off his slippers and climbing up the bunk. He got underneath the blankets with Syrus, snuggling back up to the shorter man. Jaden stared as he watched this unfold – he did not get the memo why the two were sharing a bed, but eh, if it made them happy, Jaden wouldn’t judge. It wasn’t like he hadn’t fallen asleep in Jesse’s arms on the couch or something. He climbed into bed as well, and the lights turned off, everyone resting for the night.

In truth, however, Syrus hadn’t been asleep entirely. When Hassleberry left to go scold everyone, Syrus had woken up without a word, or giving his boyfriend knowledge that he was awake. To think, Hassleberry had scolded everyone on his behalf, made them realize maybe they’d been too pushy… it was heartwarming, and Syrus found himself smiling into his boyfriend’s embrace, falling asleep once again, and this time, not waking up until sunrise. He was okay, he was okay because of Hassleberry, because Hassleberry cared for him and loved him… Syrus considered himself a very lucky kid that he had him. 

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

hi guys! i wrote my first(?) fanfic on here -- i think, don't quote me on that! i will be posting this to my ao3 as well as *maybe* wattpad, haven't posted anything there in AGES

i hope you guys enjoyed reading my jurassicshipping fanfic! these two blorbos have been in my brain and rotting it away (i love them),,, and i threw in some jim x alexis and some jaden x jesse just for little old me

also if you keep up with my shitposts, yes, i based this fanfic off a shitpost i made for hassleberry and syrus ANYWAY TYSM FOR READING WAHH JURASSICSHIPPING FANS RISE UP

[1lostsoul0fishbowl]

Another snippet of my writing featuring Wayne Munson as Father of the Year, every year, forever.

(“Those Parkers” are Eddie’s extremely estranged maternal grandparents. He just met them and it didn’t go well because they are honestly kinda garbage human beings.)

He knows the kids will call him at some point, but Wayne isn’t expecting to hear from them until later that night. Possibly even the next morning, depending on how well things go. Chrissy had booked them a motel room in case they wanted to extend their visit.

So he’s a little distracted when he answers the ringing phone in the early afternoon, fumbling with his cigarette lighter. “Yeah.” He tunes in with half an ear, ready to hang up if it’s a sales pitch.

But a small anguished voice choking out “Papa?” immediately gets his full attention.

“Ed! What happened? You alright?”

A heartwrenching sob is his only answer.

Wayne sighs. He was so afraid this would be the outcome, but he’d foolishly dared to get his hopes up. He really should’ve known better. “Aww, darlin’, what’d they do to you?” he says softly. Damn those Parkers. He could strangle them both with his bare hands, honestly he could. How dare they treat his sweet boy badly. How dare they let him down again.

Eddie is gasping for breath, making little high-pitched keening noises. “Eddie. Take it easy, now. Breathe for me, huh? Take a deep breath, that’s my good boy. You’ll be alright. Whatever happened, it’ll be alright, we’ll take care of it. C’mon, don’t cry. Please don’t cry, darlin’.” He angrily swipes a tear from his own cheek. “Listen to me, Ed, I love you more’n anythin’ else. Whatever they did or said to you, it don’t mean anythin’ here. I love you, you’re my son and you belong here with me. Okay, baby? You’ll always belong here. I’ll always want you here.”

His broken-hearted boy continues sobbing, quietly, helplessly. It breaks Wayne’s heart, too. “Ed, put Chrissy on the phone, will ya? I’m’a tell her to bring you on home now. You just hang in there, darlin’, okay? I’ll be right here when you get home.”

[dancing-to-architecture]

44 - Jack White - Blunderbuss (2012)

I'm gonna be real, I had no idea this album even existed until this came up. I liked the White Stripes back in the mid to late 00's, but never really followed much of Jack White's solo career.

He's a damn good guitarist, though, so I'm going in to this one with slightly raised expectations.

(I also had this written out like a week and a half ago and just totally spaced on actually posting it.)

•Missing Pieces-

ooh, that electric piano works really well with Jack's guitar tones in the intro, but the solo in the middle is a killer.

Weird lyrics at first, then it slowly starts to come together by the end with a great set of closing lines:

"Sometimes someone controls everything about you

And then they tell you that they just can't live without you

They ain't lyin', they'll take pieces of you

And they'll stand above you and walk away

That's right, and take a part of you with them."

And whomst among us hasn't felt exactly that way some point?

•Sixteen Saltines-

Heavy fuzzy riffs, which is kinda what I expect from Jack White.

The name of the song is extremely weird considering it's a throwaway line, but I guess just calling it "who's jealous (of who?)" might be a bit on the nose.

•Freedom at 21-

I'm giving the text on this a small bit of a pass here because this came out a WHILE before the Me Too movement, but it feels pretty 'Men's Rights'-y imo.

"She can do whatever to me and she'll be fine because she's the woman and the man is always blamed for things" feels pretty goddamned cringey in 2023.

•Love Interruption-

This is the most "Divorced Guy" song I've ever heard in my entire life.

I will not elaborate further.

•Blunderbuss-

"A romantic bust, a blunder turned explosive blunderbuss" is some pretty fun wordplay, but as a self-diagnosed wife-guy, a few soulful minutes about the nobility of infidelity is not exactly my cup of piss.

•Hypocritical Kiss-

This song just makes me think about a number of people that I'd rather prefer stay locked away in the oubliette of my terrible memory.

•Weep Themselves to Sleep-

Okay, dude, you totally invalidated your entire premise set up by the first two lines in the second two lines.

"Nobody can do [x] like I can, except all these guys."

The instrumentation is really nice, the piano kills it, but the lyrics are... not great. 'Billy Corgan Poetic', by which I mean they're pretty, have an interesting metric foot, and they rhyme nicely, but are otherwise inscrutable.

Weird choice for the central song.

•I'm Shakin'-

Jack White sings the dirty blues.

...At least he's better at it than a good number of other white guys who have attempted it.

The idea of referring to the story of Samson and Delilah as "(she) clipped his wig" is just wild.

•Trash Tongue Talker-

"You broke your tongue talkin trash,

Now you're trying to bring your garbage to me." Damn, that's a good line.

One of the few songs about "get the hell out of my life" that you could throw on at a party and not immediately kill the vibe.

•Hip (Eponymous) Poor Boy-

This feels like a band i grew up listening to. Wanna say Little Feat or something like that. It's...alright.

•I Guess I Should Go To Sleep-

Okay, I have a bit of a weakness for 3/4 time.

I also have the occasional fight with insomnia (and lemme tell ya, my insomnia's got HANDS), so yeah, this one hits home.

Also a fairly tidy analogy for death closing out the tab on a hard life. Not entirely sure if that was the intention, but it works.

•On And On And On-

I absolutely love the flow of this one. It's not exactly a fast song, but it keeps moving with the steady power of a river.

I actually had to relisten to it, as I got caught up in the movement and the meter of the lyrics and started spacing out and just vibing.

•Take Me With You When You Go-

The drums are straight out of Manic Depression. I'd know that goddamn drum fill *anywhere*.

I like the fiddle, it almost feels like it shouldn't work, but it really does.

Okay I wasn't expecting the intro to be "the first entire half of the song" but it kicks into 5th gear at the halfway mark and just Goes.

About what I expected going in, to be real. Some great guitar work, some weird but fun lyrics (more often than not).

I'm not sure when he and Meg had their big bad falling out back in the day, but the general sense of "being kinda angry at women" vibe on a few of the songs here definitely bring that whole debacle to mind.

Favorite Track: On And On And On. It's just a whole ass vibe.

Least Favorite Track: tie between Weep Themselves to Sleep and Hypocritical Kiss, but Blunderbuss would be up here too if the wordplay wasn't so good.

There's a lot of very divorce-coded "angry white guy" on this album, and that's just not hitting me.

[scavengia]

Scavengia Part 7

(Scene: The entrance to the termite's lair. The group climb up the cliff to reach it.)

Drake: This is it, guys.

Akari: Okay. Miito and I will stay behind to protect Nibi.

Drake: Right, Spud, Lux and I will go on ahead.

(They enter the cave. Lined on the interior walls are demented-looking totems made from various garbage. Spud huddles close to Drake and Lux.)

Spud: So... no second thoughts on this? None at all? Not even a little-

Drake: Spud...! This isn't over yet.

Lux: Drake's right. There's no turning back now...

Spud: Okay.

(As the three make their way through the cave, dark shapes creep behind them, unseen. Lux hears something, then, and turns around... but sees nothing. However, he notices a single line of dried fluid trickling down the cave wall. Looking up, he sees several bug-shaped bare patches on the wall.)

Lux: Uh, guys?

(In another moment, the trap is sprung; The termites spring out from their hiding places behind the boys to surround them, armed to the mandibles with weapons.)

Spud: GAAAAAAHHH!!!

(Spud's scream is heard by Akari, Nibi and Miito. They peek around the corner to see the boys being forcibly dragged away by the termites.)

Nibi: Oh no, Drake...!

(Meanwhile, the boys are dragged by the arms through the caves.)

Spud: Oh, this was SUCH a bad idea!

Lux: At least it can't get any worse, right?

Termite: Hoo boy, you have no idea what you're in for, do ya?

(The boys are taken to a throne room. Here sits Queen Formosa herself, in all her scary glory.)

Formosa: Well, well, well, well, well, well, well! And what would a human child be doing here in Scavengia?

Drake: Look, we don't want any trouble, alright!?

Formosa: Of course not. You want this, don't you? That's why you're here, obviously.

(So saying, she produces a crooked scepter. On the top end dangles a crystal prism in the shape of a star...)

Spud: The Memoria Star!

Formosa: That's right, fools. The bees may have seen it as just an heirloom, but with this baby, I'm unstoppable. There's more magical power loaded in here than you can dream of.

Drake: I don't want power! I just want to help my sister regain her memories.

Formosa: In that case, she can go SUCK. ACID. As will you boys, to my own amusement, of course.

Drake: You can't force us to drink acid!

Formosa: Why not? It happens all the time around here! Every termite knows that!

(The other termites cringe.)

Termites: OF COURSE WE DO, MADAM!

Lux: Oh, good god...

(Akari, Nibi and Miito, sneak through the cave to Formosa's throne room. They peek in to see the boys held before her. Nibi tenses.)

Akari: Okay, here's the plan: As soon as one of those guards gets close enough, we jump him, take him hostage and th-

(Not listening, Nibi bolts from their hiding place, Miito buzzing frantically.)

Nibi: Drake!

Akari: NIBI!

(Everyone else turns to see them, Nibi looking brave for Drake's sake. She moves in front of Drake to defend him.)

Nibi: Drake needs the Star for his sister, you witch!

Drake: Nibi...

(Formosa gets up from her throne.)

Formosa: Oh-hoho, so the bee princess has a thing for the human shrimp! A forbidden interspecies love, perhaps? Or maybe...

(In a sudden burst of speed, she rushes towards Nibi, stopping just inches from her.)

Formosa: Let's see what's under that mask of yours, hm?

(With the sharp end of her scepter, she bashes the side of Nibi's head, knocking the princess backward.)

Drake: Nibi!

(Formosa chuckles darkly as she approaches the fallen Nibi, who is struggling to pick herself up off the ground. The princess's mask is cracking.)

Nibi: N-No, please...

(Formosa just strikes her on the head a few more times, widening the crack faster, until the face beneath becomes visible: The face of a human girl. The others can just stare in shock.)

Formosa: I thought so.

(She roughly grabs Nibi and yanks her upwards, with the rest of the mask falling off, revealing brown eyes with honey-ginger bangs poking out from under a white cap-like hood. Nibi stares fearfully into the face of the termite queen.)

Formosa: A surprise and pleasure to meet the foundling human of those rumors at last. That means I can take the credit of killing her myself.

(She drags the struggling Nibi over to a nearby deep pit.)

Formosa: Say hello to the Pit of Torment. Don't worry about your imminent death. Your friends will be joining you soon; We'll be throwing their carcasses in after you.

(Having had enough, Drake sees his chance and punches a termite, knocking his spiked club out of his grasp. Drake then grabs the weapon and charges Formosa.)

Formosa: Wh-

(Drake WHACKS Formosa with the club, drawing hemolymph and forcing her to drop the scepter with the Star on the ground. She staggers back, and begins to fall into the pit, taking Nibi with her...)

Drake: Nibi!

(In the nick of time, Drake grabs Nibi by her costume's arm, while Formosa falls screaming into the darkness. From below, there comes a sickening SPLAT sound. Dangling in midair, Nibi looks up at Drake. Lux, Akari and Spud come over and help him hoist her up. Miito hovers about, buzzing in concern.)

Spud: (to Nibi) So... all along, you were the...

Termite: I can't believe the queen's dead... WE'RE FREE!

(The termites all cheer. The group is a bit surprised by this.)

Termite#1: (singsong) Here we go! And a one, two, three! (clap)

Termite#2: (laughing) What the heck is that?!

(Two other termites hug.)

Female Termite#1: (ecstatic) It's over! It's finally over!

Female Termite#2: I always hoped this day would come!

(Another termite announces with tears of joy...)

Male Termite: I'll send as much sugar as I can scrounge up to everyone here!

Termite#1: Thank you, Sugar Banker!

(Yet another termite has something to say as well.)

Female Termite: I'm gonna marry the guy she hated!

(The other termites cheer. They then all crowd around Drake.)

Termite#2: C'mon, everybody! Here's to the conquering young human! One-two...

(The termites toss Drake in the air repeatedly, cheering their liberator.)

Drake: GAAAHHH!!! What the heck?! Stop, stop!

(Spud nervously glances at the Star, lying on the cave floor. Meanwhile...)

Servant: Sir! We've tracked them down to the termites' cave!

Recluso: Excellent. Now! The Princess must still be alive when we retrieve her and the Star. If she is otherwise... I shall be very put out.

[hyesungxvc]

hey yo!! welcome to my lame ass intro post! i’m bambi (they/them, est, 21+) and i present you my gremlin son, the sarcastic af, gun obsessed, always ready to throw down hyesung. that gif right there is what he looks like right before he is about to roast the hell out of you, btw. if your muse does not want to punch his face in at least once during their interaction then i am not playing this boy right!! below is his page links and my poor excuse of tl;dr of his bio! my plots/connections page is still a wip but i’m still down for plotting either on tumblr or on d.iscord so just let me know!! can’t wait to write with all of you <333

STATS | BIO | PLOTS | PINTEREST | PLAYLIST

i promise the plots page will get done eventually,,,, i’m just... lazy akskskd

THREAD TRACKER

because i might forget otherwise...

@ashtonxvc​ ( why you gotta be so rude? ) — owed

@xhaisevc ( high off it ) — replied

TL;DR BIO

TW: parental death, child neglect, implied child abuse, physical assault, physical abuse, murder, mentions of contemplating suicide

born aug 27th, 1999 to two loving aesteri parents. i mean it when i say they adored him. they worked hard to have him. his grandfather, however, didn’t really care much for his existence.

for the first few years of his life hyesung wanted for nothing. his grandfather owned a successful company and both his parents worked for him, so they had money to... throw around basically.

sadly, around the time he was five his parents passed away. it was considered ‘under mysterious circumstances’ and to this day hyesung can’t find any information on what happened to them but this lead his grandfather to be his legal guardian.

grandpa lee did not care for hyesung at all. he was just someone he needed to have around to run his company after he passed. they did not get along well because, surprise surprise! he never truly tried to connect with hyesung on an emotional level.

so he’s left alone to grieve and figure out his own feelings which... works out as well as you expect. he begins to act out: breaking things, hitting his tutors and caretakers, and even fighting other children that lived in their neighborhood.

needless to say, hyesung grew more angry and jaded as the years went by. he would often be thrown into the back of police cars and brought home because he was caught stealing or fighting. it was his only real way of getting attention from anyone.

roughly around the time he was thirteen he met his first love: guns. ♥ he noticed the gun holstered on the officers waist as he toyed with it and needless to say, hyesung became fascinated. he began the hobby of researching them and learning all he could about them, longing for the day he could own one himself.

he got that opportunity years later thanks to a event that was held by his grandfathers company. he was put in a room with other wealthy, spoiled children and one of them showcased their fathers rare gun. hyesung wanted it badly and what do we do when we want something, kids? we steal it!

him bringing it home make his obsession solid, and he began to steal parts and other smaller weapons he could to add to his collection. he began to work on them when he had free time and eventually made his first custom gun. it didn’t work but he didn’t care because he made it with his blood, sweat and tears. he began to work on them more and more, bringing in other weaponry as his confidence grew. eventually he was doing it all the time.

BUT!! it wasn’t enough to fill the ~void~ in his chest and, like most sad, lonely teens, he turned to the internet and joined a forum that made him feel more at home then his own. it was a gateway to other things, such as shady dealings and hackers. not one to ignore his curiosity, he began teaching himself how to hack and because he’s a perfectionist with a desire to be seen as the best, he got really good at it.

eventually he felt comfortable enough to start selling parts and customized weaponry, and it was going great. until it didn’t. he met a regular client at the desired spot but instead of their deal he was set up, thrown to the ground and beaten, all his stuff stolen from him. needless to say, it haunted him for a WHILE. to make matters worse?? yeah, he caught a charge!! blessedly they were dropped but that did nothing to stop his grandfather from being terribly upset, so much so that he fully disowned his grandson and threw him out on the street.

seventeen, homeless and angry, he built himself again from the ground up, but not before he hacked his grandfather out of a good bit of money. he moved out his raggedy apartment into a nicer one, got a decent part time job, and began reselling again but under a new alias. he even found the man who destroyed his life and lovingly put a end to him <333

still, he’s sad and empty and lonely and with having literally no one, he feels like what’s the point of living? luckily, he finds the howlers and the rest is history!!! he slowly moves his way up the ladder by showcasing his talents, eventually securing his spot as their weapons expert and tech extraordinaire. cha-ching!

QUICK HEADCANONS

he is disgustingly loyal to his gang. he will kill you no hesitation if told to, would not care if you were his best friend. the gang is literally the only family he has.

has a big sweet tooth. like, HUGE. cakes, candies, sweet drinks—he loves them all. it’s probably his biggest weak spot aside from guns. you could earn a SINGLE brownie point if you buy him a bag of gummy bears, which is more points then most people have, honestly.

likes to fight and it’s mostly because he likes having someone’s sole attention on him. he will recklessly pick fights sometimes just because he can. he also likes to admire the bruises after fights because they go away quickly thanks to his natural alien healing abilities.

weirdly enough he does have a soft spot for plush things and his room has a few plush dolls scattered though out. he would rather DIE, however, then ever admit that to anyone.

if you ever played c.yberpunk 2.077, he is comparable to the character judy alvarez. just far more angsty and aggressive but still just as snarky and smart.

[nepentheansea]

Problems

© Skyebounded, do not use my work, but you may share it.

Masterlist

premise: When is enough, enough?

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Angst, swearing, gaslighting, talk about drugs, toxic relationship, it think that's mostly it, but there could be more. (typical Rafe stuff)

Word Count: 4.0K

A/N: Hello Lovelies 💙  I have been working on this for a little bit now, and I hope that you guys like it. It's straight-up toxic, so this one goes out to all the other mentally ill bitches (like myself) out there, LOVE YOU GUYS.

Also shout out to @glodessa​ for helping me out with this as well, Love ya bestie, thank you for your help!

You had done this far too many times to count, each one pushing you closer and closer to the end. You were racing down the windy back roads, going twenty over as you navigate your way through the cut. There had only been a handful of times that you had found yourself racing down these roads, and most of them had been during the day. This rare occasion, however, had you driving around each curve, practically blind at three am. 

You had tucked yourself into bed a little past ten, not at all expecting to get a call from an unknown number around two-fifty in the morning. If you hadn’t felt that nagging feeling in the pit of your stomach, you probably wouldn’t have answered it, but you did. You didn’t expect whoever was on the end of the line to tell you ‘come get your boy, I ain’t dealing with his ass anymore!” followed by a text with an address attached to it. 

You knew deep down what it meant, what he was doing. That's how you found yourself scrambling to find a t-shirt to cover your naked body, before running out the door. Now here you were, three miles from your destination, tears building in your eyes, fuming with anger and praying to God he was okay. 

You pull yourself to a complete halt in front of a dumpy-looking trailer, as your nav alerts you ‘You’ve reached your destination’  On any other given day if the situation was different, you would be wary of getting out here. The place was littered with all sorts of shit. Garbage and random pieces of furniture were scattered throughout the yard. 

You climb out of your car, quickly wiping your puffy tear-filled eyes, slamming the door behind you, no care when you hear it echo loudly. Cool air stings your heated cheeks, as you march up to what you presume is the front door. You bang on the door, beating it down until the door flies open. The guy standing before you didn’t look familiar, you had never seen him before, and if you were being honest you were glad for it. He screamed trouble. His thin black hair was in a greasy ponytail, his facial hair unkempt and not to mention, the dingy wife beater and cargo shorts he was wearing. 

    “Where is he?” you ask blatantly. 

His eyes trail your form, a smug grin on his face. “Oh shit, so you’re Mrs. Country Club?” he steps aside, allowing for you to come in. “He’s through there.” He adds, pointing down the hall. As you make your way further through the trailer, the smell begins to singe your nose. You spot Rafe sitting on the couch, setting up what you could only assume was one of many lines on the table in front of him. Your jaw tightens, anger coursing through you. You make your way over to him, expecting him to look up at you, but he doesn't seem to notice you at all. You kneel down, waiting for him to go for the line, only to have you blow it out from under him, watching it turn to a cloud of dust before him.

His eyes meet yours, pupils blown and lids heavy. If looks could kill, you’d surely be dead, his glare was one of ice. You notice the way it softens momentarily when he realizes it’s you. 

    “What the fuck are you doing here? You shouldn’t be here!” he pauses his eyes flicking up the length of you, “What the fuck are you wearing?” 

On any other given occasion, you would have found his protectiveness over your outfit to be cute, but right now, it was nothing short of annoying. You bring yourself to really look at him, wondering what drove him here this time, wondering if it was sheer boredom or if he had fought with his father again.

    “I could ask you the same fucking thing, Rafe, and what I am wearing is not the problem right now!” You say through gritted teeth. You stand up, your hands finding your waist.

    “You’re very wrong if you think that what you are wearing isn’t a problem...The fucking problem is you aren’t wearing anything!” he bites back. You could tell he was getting angry, watching the way his jaw flexes, or the way his eyes fall shut as if he can't bring himself to look at you. 

    “I think you look good.” you hear the guy behind you speak up.

    “You better shut your fucking mouth, Barry!” Rafe snaps. You ignore both of them, looking around and collecting Rafe’s phone and keys off the table. 

    “Get up, we’re leaving,” you demand, ushering him to stand up. 

    “Don’t!” he barks. He stands up, his figure looming over your small one. It's then that you notice how rough he looks. His forehead is beaded in sweat, his hair a tangled mess, strands of it sticking to his face. He looked like he hadn’t slept or even showered for days, and it made you wonder how long he had really been here. Unbelievable. All you give him in response is a cold glare. 

“Don't fucking treat me like that.” His jaw tenses and his eyes narrow on you. 

You want so badly to put him in his place, to tell him off for everything, but you weren’t about to lay into him, not while you had an audience. You knew that it was bound to be an emotional roller-coaster and you didn’t want anyone else to see when you ultimately broke down in tears. 

You turn your head when you hear Barry laughing behind you. 

    “Is something funny to you?” you snap. A wide grin spreads across his face as he shakes his head slowly. 

    “It’s just funny the way he's more concerned with your outfit than anything else.” he laughs. You hear Rafe stir behind you, turning your head, you glare at him as if telling him to stand down before you turn your attention back to Barry. 

    “You know you seemed to be rather amused with this whole thing when in fact none of it is funny, it's sick.” you spit. Barry sits down in a chair, fiddling with the loose fabric on the arm of it. 

    “You’ve done this before, ain’t you?” He raises his brow, his eyes flicking between you and Rafe. “You’re pretty good at it.” 

You exhale loudly, rolling your eyes. A few too many times, you think.             

“Let’s go.” you turn to look at Rafe to make sure he understood before you turn to leave. You couldn’t get out of there fast enough. As soon as you hit open air, you take it all in as if you had been starved of it. 

    “Do you always let her talk to you like you're her bitch?”  Barry calls out to the pair of you. 

You turn around, ready to knock the smug look on his face. Marching over to him, your fists clenched at your side, interjected by Rafe’s arm wrapping around your waist and lifting you off the ground. You kick against him slightly, but there was no real way you were going to be able to fight against him. 

    “You better fucking watch your mouth, Barry,” Rafe calls back.

Rafe sets you down once you reach the car. You ball up your fist and hit his chest. 

    “Do not manhandle me!” you gripe.

    “Why did you come here? I don’t need your help,” he responds.

You were really trying your hardest to keep your composure, but he was making it so very difficult. At this point, you were ready to just leave him there and say forget it, but the little knot in your stomach was telling you that you could never do that to him. 

    “Is that so, Rafe? It was your boy over there who called me to come and get you, so get your ass in the damn car.” 

You were feeling too many emotions to even distinguish which ones you had control over, and if you engaged with him for too long, you were bound to break. 

    “Rafe, you forgetting something?” Barry calls out. 

Your eyes dart between them, wondering what it is that they could be talking about. 

    “I don’t have it right now, Barry,” You look at Rafe, and it almost looked like he was embarrassed, but you doubted it. Barry gives him a look, as if saying ‘that's not good enough’  before he turns to look at you, the smug grin still on his face. 

    “How bout you, you got it?” 

Realization sets in. You look at Rafe whose face has a stern look spread across it now. 

    “Barry, leave her out of this, I will get it!” He says firmly. 

Barry didn’t seem to care what Rafe was saying, that much was clear. 

    “How much does he fucking owe you?” You ask, grinding your teeth together. 

    “Do not answer that! Y/n get in the fucking car.” Rafe demands, but you ignore him. 

    “About two-fifty, give or take,” Barry remarks. 

You open the driver-side door, fishing for your wallet in the center console, ignoring Rafe’s attempts to stop you. Pulling out everything you had in your wallet, you make your way back to Barry. 

    “Here, consider his debt paid.” you throw the cash at him, watching his smile grow like some gross gesture as if he was getting pleasure from this whole exchange. You make your way back to the car, making no attempt to talk to Rafe as you open the door to the driver's side and climb in, shutting it before anything else could be said. Once the door shuts you exhale the breath that you didn’t realize you had been holding. You could feel the tears building up in your eyes, burning, along with the rapid beating of your heart. 

This was the very reason you hadn’t wanted to get into it with Rafe while you were inside. You didn’t want to cry in front of him let alone his newfound friend. You were starting to feel numb, numb to everything. You couldn’t do it anymore, and he knew that. You never asked anything of him, not once, but when you found out about his little habit, you asked him to quit it. Quit with the bullshit, the lies, and the drugs, and he did. Then not soon after things were good, you had found him back at it, and you told him that you were done. He had told you in his desperation, that he was sorry and that he would quit, he would quit for you. He promised you, again and again. 

You never considered that it would be that hard, when the benefit was so much more fulfilling especially because you would do anything for him, die for him, steal for him, even kill for him, but all you asked in return is for him to quit.

He lied. Again and again, he lied. 

You close your eyes for a brief moment, letting the tears that had formed in your eyes trickle down your cheeks before you open them. The passenger’s door opens and Rafe climbs in, shutting the door rather forcefully. You sniffle and wipe the tears away before he could see. You type in your address into the navi before pulling away from the dumpy trailer. 

    “What the fuck, Rafe?” you accuse. 

He cranes his head to look at you. 

    “What?” he asks. The annoyance, already building in his tone. 

You think carefully about what you want to say. Part of you just wants to sweep it under the rug and make sure he’s okay, forgetting that it ever happened, whereas the other part of you felt like it was suffocating you. 

    “You promised me you would quit.” you pause, turning your head to glance at him. His gaze was still ice as he looks back at you. “You promised me you were done.”

He rolls his eyes, leaning back into his seat. He runs his hands through his hair with a deep sigh. 

    “It was just one time, I have quit. I really don’t understand why you’re mad right now.” 

You scoff, you knew what one time meant. You had heard it enough in your life to know that it was never just one time. You’re not even sure why you were expecting him to apologize. Perhaps it was because you were still holding on to hope for him, for your relationship, but It was a stupid notion. 

“That’s fucking bullshit, and we both know it, Rafe. I’m mad that you can’t just be honest with me! I’m mad that I had to run out of my house at three am because your friend called me telling me to come get your ass.” 

Your blood was starting to boil as you spoke. You grip the steering wheel tighter, your knuckles turning white.

    “Can you just not right now, I really don’t want to get into this with you.” he sighs.

His attitude bothered you more than anything. It was like he couldn’t see the problem in what he was doing, like he could do it just once, and then he wouldn’t do it again. In all honesty, it broke your heart to see him this way, especially because he usually only did it when something was bothering him. 

    “What was it this time, was it your dad? Did you guys get into another fight?” 

When it came to the topic of his father, Rafe would always get defensive, and for what reason, you didn't know. It always struck a nerve, and if you weren’t careful you could end up hitting the wrong nerve. You turn to look at him. His eyes were closed, and his jaw tightened. You had struck something. You didn’t need to see his eyes to know that. 

    “Rafe.” you prod. 

He opens his eyes, and you can see the crazy behind them. 

    “Shut up!...Shut up! Just fucking shut up. I told you not now!” 

He throws his hands up indicating for you to keep quiet, but tonight was not the night you were going to listen. You pull the car to a halt on the side of the road, nearly crashing into a nearby tree in the process. Rafe falls forward, his arm his only protection from hitting the dashboard. 

“What the fuck!” He turns to you, his eyes glinting with rage. You rip your seatbelt off and climb out of the car, you need air. The crisp morning air burning your heated cheeks. You hear Rafe’s door slam shut, the sound of it echoing in the open air. 

“What the fuck is your problem?” 

You glare at him as he storms around the car until he is only feet in front of you. 

    “What’s my problem! What’s my fucking problem, Rafe?” you throw your arms back in frustration, laughing frantically. 

    “This! This is my fucking problem! You are my fucking problem!” you shout. 

He takes a step back, his head cocking slightly and his eyes widening. 

“Oh, I’m the fucking problem? You know what, If anyone should have a goddamn problem it's me! Look at you, you are running around half fucking naked letting everyone see you!” he steps closer, his hand immediately warped around your throat as he applied pressure to your trachea. “You are my fucking girlfriend, and this is not for anyone else to see but me!” His finger gestures up and down the length of your body. You exaggeratedly shrug it off, rolling your eyes. 

“You’re pathetic,” you scoff, watching as his jaw tenses. “Everything you do and say is fucking pathetic. Your excuses are fucking pathetic, Rafe!” you add. You were barely able to breathe despite being engulfed in the crisp morning air. You couldn’t seem to inhale enough of it. The panic starts rising and you feel as if your lungs were beginning to collapse. You hear him let out a scoff, shaking his head slowly trying to make sense of what you were saying. He lets go of your throat, inching back just a little. 

    “What do you want from me? Honestly! What more do you want?!” he demands, “I fucking quit, for you! You asked me to and I did it, so I don’t understand what the issue is here.”

He steps closer to you, your only response is backing up. He notices it and his expression of anger falters and his worry fills it a moment before he shakes it off. He runs his hands through his hair and turns around.

    “Oh! And what the hell was that back there? Thinking you can talk to me like that in front of other people, not okay!” he adds.

“Oh give it a rest! That is not the issue right now! You know what I want, I want you to keep your promises, Rafe! I want you to stop with the sorry ass excuses and grow up! But you can’t, can you, you are a fucking child?” you scream. 

You watch him pace back and forth, shaking his head. He gives you no response, which only fuels more from you. 

    “Are you even fucking listening to me?” you step forward, inching closer to him. “Hello!”

He stops and faces you, a crazed look in his eyes. 

“You know what, everything I do is for you, for us!” he exclaims.

You let out a scoff, rolling your eyes. “You are fucking delusional!” you snort, turning on your heel. You wanted to put a little distance between you, get away from him for a moment. You were suffocating and you needed space.  

“Don’t walk away from me!” he calls, “Y/n, don’t you fucking walk away from me!” he yells. You could hear him close behind you, shouting your name in the process. You could hear the hint of desperation in his voice, and it tugged at you, urging you to turn around and let him win. To let him convince you that everything was fine and that he would somehow make it better. He grabs your arm, spinning you around to face him. His hand wraps around your jaw, forcing you to look at him. 

“Look at me when I’m talking to you.”  His hold on you firm, establishing the control he had on you. His worried eyes, searching yours for something, drifting down to your lips. 

“I fucked up, but I meant it when I told you that I would quit,” he says, his voice softening as if he were actually sorry, but you knew better. 

“But it doesn’t mean anything Rafe, it never does. All you do is lie and lie and lie, and I can’t take it anymore.” you exhale, your breath shaky as well as your body, “you do nothing but give me empty promises, you drain me of everything! I can’t even breathe when I'm with you. I am so worried about you all the fucking time. I am so goddamn tired of it!” you scream, your chest heaving. 

“I didn’t fucking ask you to, you did that on your own!” he says back. 

You snicker, letting your head fall back and your eyes fall closed. “Are you kidding me! You are actually so fucking delusional.” you pause, your eyes narrow on him, watching the way his jaw locks, and the way his eyes fall closed momentarily.  “You know what Rafe, I am done, I am not doing this anymore.” 

Rafe grabs your arm, drawing you closer to him. Leaning down so that his face is inches from yours. “See I don’t think you are.” he laughs.  “You know why..?” he whispers. You swallow hard, fighting the urge to cry as you meet his eyes. Dark and sinister. “It’s because you need me. You can’t live without me, Y/n….tell me, what are you going to do without me? Hmm?” Rafe’s eyes fall to your lips, slowly tracing your face before his eyes meet yours once more. Rafe catches your lips with a hard kiss, claiming you in his own sick and twisted way. You allow yourself a mere moment to indulge in it, nothing but a pure second before you’re pulling away, shoving him off of you. Before you have time to register it, your hand flies across his face. 

“No! You don't get to do that!” you huff. You urge yourself to take a step back, but you can't, you can't move. “You don’t get to act like everything is okay, ‘cause it's not!” You try to catch your breath. “I am done, Rafe! I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with you, but I am done, I am so fucking done, we are done!” You take a heavy exhale, your heart racing, the tears that you had vowed to keep in, now following freely from your eyes. You were shaking, standing there watching as he processed it all, rubbing his face lightly.  Nothing but a scoff and a shake of his head. His lip juts out, as he mumbles a soft “okay, okay.” 

You don't know what to feel. You thought that somehow you would feel relieved, that in some way you would feel at peace over it all, but you felt nothing but a nagging ache in the pit of your stomach. You felt as if you could throw up from it all.

    “Get in the fucking car,” you say, your voice just barely above a whisper. You slowly but surely make your way back, opening the door and climbing in. Brushing your hands over your face, you wipe away the remnants of the tears, pulling yourself together when Rafe slides in next to you. 

You don't bother to look at him as you start the car, and pull back onto the road. You don’t want to know what he’s thinking, feeling, you're not even sure yourself what you were feeling. You start to wonder if you made the wrong decision. Part of you wanted to forgive him and forget everything. To go back to pretending that everything was okay and that you were without a doubt happy. As you drive in silence, you let all of the good times consume you, flooding your mind, and you think that you did make the wrong decision. That he was right, you couldn’t be without him, but then all of the bad begins to seep through, consuming all of the good memories. 

All the times that he had left you alone, worried about what could possibly be happening to him. All the times that he had missed dates, events, and his only apology were expensive gifts that had no meaning other than an empty promise., or even all the times that you had to deal with him when he was so messed up with nowhere to go other than you. You had been drowning, drowning through all of it. 

You pull into his driveway, pulling the car to a halt, and putting it in park. You don’t say anything, you can’t, you just wait for him to leave. You hear him scoff, as he opens the door, climbing out. 

    “You’ll be back, you always are. See you soon, angel.” he closes the door, leaning through the window, “I love you.,” he says with a grin, blowing you a kiss. 

It's then that you knew that no matter what he did or what he continues to do, you would be back because he was right, you couldn’t live without him. 

[kiankiwi]

(baby steps) Imagine this; we've been at home with E for a while, and we're talking to him while he's big about something. Suddenly, something he sees or hears on TV triggers him and gives him flashbacks of his time with the Colonel, and he bolts for the nursery.

When you find him, he's shaking and crying, sucking his thumb, and since he wasn't wearing a diaper, he had a poopy accident in his pants since he just dropped into babyspace so quickly. When he realizes you're there and you can tell he had an accident, he starts cowering and trying to shield himself since he thinks you're going to hit him or yell at him for having a messy accident.

Straight to Baby:

You two were just lounging on the couch in the TV room, talking about your upcoming schedule for the week, the TV on in the background for noise.

"Are you sure you want to come with me to those meetings? They're gonna be really fucking boring. I can just as easily ask Jerry or Wanda to come and hang out with ya during the day."

Elvis sighed and squeezed your hand. "I don't want to hang out with them. I want to hang out with you!"

You sighed, Elvis was whining even though he was still big as far as you could tell. "Are you sure baby? You don't have to. We can't really hang out in a meeting. I can get them done really quick and we can spend the rest of the day together."

Just then a man on TV screamed at someone really loudly and before you knew what was happening, Elvis was bolting out of the room.

He was obviously triggered from the yelling. "Shit, baby, hey!" You ran after him and found him in the corner of the nursery, shaking and holding his head with his hands. You could also immediately smell that he had had a messy accident.

"Shit, baby, what happened? Did the TV scare you?" You ask, getting down on the floor with him but staying far enough away so you're not touching just in case he doesn't want to be touched yet. "I-Is he here? Where is he?" You were so confused. "Who baby? Who?" You took a second, realizing E couldn't answer, he was starting to slip farther. He was starting to go nonverbal and shaking and sucking his thumb. "Honeybee, you're safe. It's just mama." You finally put together that the he Elvis was referring to was the Colonel. He was asking if the Colonel was here. "I promise sweetheart, it's okay. He's never gonna come near you or touch you again, mama and Wanda made sure of that."

You could tell by the way Elvis's eyes softened he was trying to believe you. You slowly opened your arms inviting him for a hug. "Do you wanna give mama a snuggle? You're at home with mama baby, it's okay."

Slowly but surely Elvis came out the corner and crawled toward your open arms. "Hi baby, did the TV scare you?" Remembering the yelling on the TV, Elvis just hid his face in your shoulder, sniffling all over your shirt. "It's okay, we can watch something else once we clean you up. Is it okay if mama changes your bum? I bet your pants feel yucky." Elvis nodded, pouting and giving you puppy dog eyes while pointing to his pants, "Pooped." You chuckled. "I know you did. Can mama help you into a diaper? Then we can snuggle and watch... Bluey!" You gasped excitedly, trying to distract him from the fear he was feeling earlier.

Elvis pulled at the waist of his pants clumsily and whined. "Mama, help." He whined, laying down so you could change him. "Help? Alright sweet boy, you stay right there." You grabbed a diaper and a package of wipes. "Alright my love, you stay still." Elvis nodded as you gave him a wipe to distract him and keep his hands occupied while you changed him out of his ruined clothes. You decided they would go straight in the garbage. You didn't need Elvis remembering this every time he put this outfit on again.

Twenty minutes later, he was clean and changed out of his bigger clothes into a onesie and you were leading him by the hand down the stairs from the nursery to the TV room. "Good job, bubba. Mama's so proud of you." Upon entering he noticed his favorite cozy throw blanket and toddled toward it, "Blankie!" He exclaimed before pushing his face into the softeness. "Yeah, get cozy with your blankie and we'll watch Bluey."

Elvis cuddled up next to you as you turned on one of his favorite shows and everything was right in his world again.

@arianatheangel-girl @mooodyblue @ellie-24

[seokiloquy]

Pearlescent Pt 1 - Iwaizumi Hajime

Au: Merpeople

Requested (kind of)

Tags/Warnings: GN!reader, That’s about it.

Word Count: 1.8k

Pt 1 | Pt 2 | Pt 3 | Pt 4 | Pt 5

You had seen him a few times while wandering up and down the length of the beach. A towel draped over his legs and a pile of seashells in his lap, the boy would pick one up, scratch at it with a small pocket knife, and then feed a small string through the carved hole. He seemed rather stoic in his concentration, brows pushed down and mouth curved in a natural frown. As you passed, you noticed his hair becoming more spiked as it began to dry off.

“Your eyes aren’t glued. Look somewhere else,” Hanni hissed, digging an elbow into your side.

Your head spun to her. “I— What— No—”

“Don’t try to deny it. Since we got here, you’ve hardly picked up a single piece of trash. Your pockets are filled with beach glass and seashells, and you’ve been staring at him every chance you get,” she scoffed with a teasing grin. “When I asked if you wanted to go swimming, you just said, ‘huh, okay, ya.’”

“And?” Your voice raised.

“You can’t swim.”

“Good point. Look,” you huffed, glancing over your shoulder at the boy, “he’s just interesting? He looks good, and he’s making something.”

Hanni sighed, “You have a type for scary-looking buff guys with a hobby.”

“That’s not true!” You shook, causing the glass and shells in your pocket to jingle.

“Don’t lie. If you’re not going to pick up trash, at least do something productive and talk to him.”

“No way.”

Hanni’s eyes flicked over your shoulder. “He’s looking at you?”

“Heh?” You turned around, catching the boy’s eyes as he paused his craft. “Shit, he is. Hanni—”

“Cool, have fun!” She printed off the bag of garbage bouncing against her hip.

“Hanni!”

You were left with a heavy stare shared with the stranger as he threaded his shells blindly. Raising a brow, he nodded, gesturing to the plot of sand beside him. With pinched lips, you came to the startling realisation that he had heard everything.

Kicking through the sand, you rushed to sit at the man’s side. “I’m so sorry. That was so rude of me. I didn’t mean to be a creep.”

“It’s fine.” He wore a sharp grin, flashing his polished teeth. “I people-watch too.”

“It’s not exactly people-watching if it’s just one person.”

He laughed. “What’s your name?”

“(L/N), (Y/N). What’s yours?”

“Iwaizumi, Hajime. What brings you to the beach?”

Sighing and glancing back to where Hanni ran off, you adjusted your position to get your feet in the warm sand. “Yearly clean up. My class got sent to the beach to pick up garbage.”

“Well, it looks much cleaner than normal,” he tried to compliment.

“Hardly to do with any of my efforts,” you said, reaching into your pockets for the collection you gathered while walking along the shore. “I’ve been a bit distracted by something else.”

“Me?”

“Beach glass and seashells.”

“And me.”

You sighed, dropping the small objects into a small pile in the sand. “So what are you making anyways?”

“A gift. Though it seems all the good specimens have been collected already.” He looked at your pile with a grin.

Arms raised in surrender, you kneed the pile forward. It crumbled. “All yours. I don’t even know what I’d do with it all.”

Instead of picking a piece from your collection, Iwaizumi reached to his side and pulled a string out, slicing it down before handing it to you. “You can make your own.”

Raising a brow, you glanced at the thread. “Are you going to show me how? That looks a bit complicated.”

“I could, but shouldn’t you return to class?”

You didn’t even check before denying.

You went back every day during summer vacation. If the sun was out and the weather cared enough, you would wake up, get dressed and run out the door before anyone could wish you good morning. 

It was a change of pace, but it was all made worth it when you arrived at the sandy shore of your town and caught a glimpse of Iwaizumi working away on his gift.

“Are you here every day?” You asked after a couple days while trying your best to match his skill level at making these necklaces. 

“Pretty much. You can often find me on the sand if I’m not in the water. Or the other way around.” He tied a knot in his string before lifting up the design. “Tada.”

The shells and pieces of beach glass were primarily blue and white with the occasional earthy tone. They were all small, each around the size of your pinky nail and formed precisely with a practised hand to not make them break. Your necklace couldn’t even be compared with its clunky wrapping and forgotten pieces that broke in the process and couldn’t be added.

“Is the pearl in the middle?” you asked, brushing the pad of your thumb against the round surface hanging from the bottom by a bent wire. 

“Sure is.”

“Where did you get it? There’s no way you just found it on the sand, and pearls are expensive.”

“Well, I wouldn’t say I just found it. I had to hunt for it.”

“Hunt?”

“Clams are sneaky little things.”

You blinked at Iwaizumi. “You’re saying you dove into the water and hunted clams to get pearls?”

“Ya.” He pointed down the length of the shore where the beach turned into a rock ledge. “There’s some over there every once and a while.”

“You’re insane.”

The rock ledge was infamous for causing broken bones and bruised brains. It wasn’t much trouble if you were even the tiniest bit careful. But often, teenagers found themselves calling the emergency line after a risky fall.

“Don’t worry, I don’t jump in.”

“Then… how do you get there?”

“By swimming, of course.”

You blinked at him, jaw slack. “I don’t even know what to say to that.”

“Then don’t say anything.” Grinning, he lifted the necklace and wrapped it around your neck, tying it in a knot.

“I thought you said it was a gift,” you said, adjusting it to lay comfortably before fiddling with the pearl in the middle.

“It is a gift. For you.”

As school started again, you saw Iwaizumi less and less. Besides the fact that every day was spent going to school and doing homework, you found that the times you would walk by the shore and glance over the sand, there was a severe lack of Iwaizumi’s presence.

To make up for not seeing him, you ensured that his necklace was always with you. It was always in reach for you to fiddle with. However, after being told off by your phys-ed teacher, it remained tucked into your uniform and out of sight.

Hanni encouraged you to check on your way back home. Just to see if he would be there, Just in case, because, just maybe, he would be.

He wasn’t there when you arrived. Nor was he appearing from any corner or street. No one was there. With the cold wind and overcast, you should have expected the beach to be relatively empty. But this was where Iwaizumi spent most of his time. Pausing for a moment, you fiddled with the pearl on your necklace and looked toward the rock ledge he had pointed out. If you were lucky, maybe he would be searching for more pearls.

Looking down the jagged edge of the stone wall, you pursed your lips and couldn’t help but think you were being ridiculous. Iwaizumi, as kind as he had been, was practically a stranger. A stranger that was able to woo you with his sharp features and ability to wrap and thread a beautiful piece of jewellery.

The water was splashing against the stone edge with every gust of wind. The movement disguised any visibility deep below the water’s surface. Had it been a nice day, you would have been able to see deeper. 

At the sight of a fish jumping above a wave, you lowered yourself to get a closer look, curiosity piqued. There was something, a shadow moving slowly beneath the whitecaps. The more it moved, the more fish jumped from the water. Shuffling to where people climbed out of the water, you cautiously took steps down, sitting on them to avoid losing balance. 

The fish kept leaping above the waves before crashing into them again. As you got to the bottom and sat comfortably on the most extensive flat ledge, another rocketed from the shallow depths and launched itself at you. You screamed as the footlong creature landed in your lap, immediately soaking through your uniform.

It flopped around, wriggling and smacking you as it desperately tried to aim toward the water, but it was futile without any limbs to propel it off you. You grabbed it, shutting your eyes as it wobbled in your grip, risking a smack to your face. Holding it out, you hoped that once you let go, you and it would be free from each other’s presence. 

You released your grip.

“Thanks!”

You screamed again. Thinking that suddenly you had fallen into a fairytale and accidentally kissed the fish like it were a prince disguised as a frog. But no.

“You’re a fish!”

“Not really,” Iwaizumi said, holding up your still squirming, scaly friend. “This is a fish.”

You coughed, trying to catch your breath. “You’ve got a tail!”

Pale blue, with a skin-like sheen similar to a dolphin, Iwaizumi’s torso stopped and turned into a long, finned tail of a merperson.

“I do.”

“You’re a fish.”

“A merman,” he huffed, brows pinching. He lowered his arm holding the fish, and raised the other, showing off a clam with a dark shell. “Were you looking for this?”

He seemed too relaxed. While you were feeling your heart pounding against your ribs, Iwaizumi waded in the water casually, with an almost bored expression.

“Uh, no. I was looking for you. You mentioned hunting for clams, so I thought….” you gulped, blinking. “Has this happened to you before?”

Iwaizumi huffed and swam forward, propping his elbows on the rock by your side. “Not to me. But a friend of mine can’t seem to keep himself out of trouble, so I’ve gotten used to the possibility that it could happen. You’re taking it much better than most, though. We usually have to erase their memory.”

You choked. “You can erase people’s memory?”

“No. But we can be very persuasive.”

His smile was too sharp, eyes curving with his cheeks.

“So…like a siren?”

“We’re the same, really.”

You shut your eyes, leaning back against the rock wall as you raised a hand to your chest so you could feel your racing heart.

“You still have the necklace.” Iwaizumi had his cheek pressed into his forearm, shoulders scrunched to his ears as he gave you a soft smile with pointed teeth. “Good.”

“Good? Should I be concerned?” You asked, fiddling with the pearl.

“Not if you don’t want to be.” He dropped the clam by your hip before pushing off the rock ledge. “Go to the beach tomorrow! I’ll be there. And don’t take off that necklace!”

Before you could ask anything else, he dove into the water, tail flicking up behind him. He was gone.

Post-secondary sucks. I wrote this a day before and the day of posting. It’s…. Probably gonna have a second part cause ya. - Bacon

Posted: 20/11/2022

[libraford]

The short version: We had a serial thief at the flower shop. She’s retired recently and I think that due to Covid she really means it this time. 

The long version? hoooo boy, here we go.

This story, and others, are viewable on Tablo

There are rules and there are rules.

In dealing with shoplifting in retail, there are rules on how one engages with a thief. The handbook, if there were one, would consist of a single word. 

Don't. 

Don't pursue, don't interrogate, don't accuse. Let them take the merchandise, let them get away. Let them return the Cricut machine for an equivalent amount on a gift card to be exchanged once again for drugs. 

Let them. 

There is no handbook on how to handle Flower Thieves. Prior to working in a flower shop, I never thought that this was a problem. 

Life is surprising. 

 I'm sure some of you have figured that out by now. 

The Flower Thief is notorious, and she has a system. There are days when you simply know that she's going to be in. 

"Break the heads off the flowers before you throw them away," Grandpa will say. "She's going to be here tonight, I think." 

And sure enough, she would be. At 6:45, a quarter til we close- the Thief would announce her arrival. Loudly. 

"Heeeeey, baaaaaaby!" 

The very first time I encountered the Flower Thief, she came in through the back door. 

"Oh Hiiiii, Darlin'- ain't seen your face around here: you must be NEW! I'm Wren, you know- like the bird? Well, Kyle and I have an agreement that I come and work for y'all sometimes. You should take out this trash, it stinks to high heaven. Anyways, nice talkin' to ya, see ya later." 

I may only be a little bit psychic, but I've spent enough time around liars to know insincerity when I see it. Kyle, at the time, was the manager of our store and I have it on record that he's tried to throw her out of the building once or twice. 

While I was taking out the trash, her pile of purchase became so tall it towered over her. I watched Clark massively undercharge her for the sake of getting her to go away. 

She has a pattern.

She comes in during the design classes because she knows that when there's twenty people in the store, there's not enough people to watch her and make sure she's not stealing. "There's a class today," she asks as if it's not literally every Tuesday. "Don't worry I know you all wanna get out of here on time." 

The Flower Thief announces her presence in a grand way and then makes her way to the back to grab a trash bag or an empty box and then proceeds to bury any spare parts she finds in the cooler in the trash bag, hiding them under the things that she's actually buying. 

After that, she checks the garbage cans for things we might have thrown away that will last another three days and stuffs them underneath her other ill-gotten goods. 

Just when you think she's finished, she'll go through her pile of flowers and say: "You know what? I don't need this eucalyptus." And she'll go back into the cooler with it, stuff it in her purse, and walk back to the register. 

And when she's all done being sneaky, she asks one of us to come ring her out. 

This is the part that no one wants to do. Because ringing out the Flower Thief means haggling with the Flower Thief. 

"Oh baaby, you know I don't pay those prices." 

"Oh baaaby, I only pay $19 for roses." 

"Oh baaaaaaaaaby, those carnations were on special." 

She'll talk you down to under $100 with a sob story: 

"Oh baaaaby, you know I'm donating this spray to the family. It's for that woman you know- you know the one. She got herself murdered a couple nights ago? Two children and she was pregnant too! Pregnant! Can you believe it? Who murders someone with child? What's the world coming to? So I need a good discount to make sure we treat this family right because they got a looooong road ahead of them." 

"Oh baaaaaaby, you know this one's for that car crash over on Cleveland Avenue? I hear he was taking care of his dying father himself, so it's such a shame for him to go first like that." 

"Oh baaaaaaaaaaaaaaby, this is for that little boy that shot himself, isn't that sad?" 

Thank you, Sister Mary Loquacious. 

And you nod because you don't want to come off as an uncaring sociopath. And while you're nodding and adjusting the price for her sad, sad consequence and mulling over how good she is for donating to these people in their time of need, she steals some greens from the trash can and sticks them in her bag. 

She hands you crisp $100 bills. You check them and she makes jokes about how she printed them this morning. They're legit. Counterfeiting isn't why she went to prison. 

What she went to prison for was drug trafficking. 

"Do you need some help," you ask, trying to be a good citizen. 

"Oh no, I got it," she insists. "I'll make it in two trips. I'm stronger than I look!" 

And don't you dare get caught looking to see what she put in the bag or she will give you one hell of a lecture. 

By the time all of this has passed, the class will be over and there will two minutes left in the work day. She's spent thirty-seven minutes in the store. Your register is unbalanced because now you don't have enough small bills to balance it and only have one $100 bill to get you through tomorrow. 

And that's why there are rules. 

On occasion, a new person will break the rules not knowing that there's rules. One such occasion was when Clair decided to be helpful. 

"You know what? I don't need this eucalyptus," Wren said. 

"Oh! I'll put it back for you," Clair suggested. And before Wren could protest, it was out of Wren's hands and nowhere near her purse. 

It was mentioned to Sage, who only worked for us one summer, that Wren had failed to pay for something and she immediately chased her out into the street. 

Wren drives very fast. 

If you cross her too many times, she'll make sure you never forget it. One day, she stomped her way in through the front door, angry. 

"You ain't treated me better than a damn THIEF," screamed the Flower Thief. 

Grandpa, who was helping Blue make a wedding bouquet at the time, departed from the desk. "Beg pardon?"

"A thief! You been treating me like a thief ever since they made you manager and I'm sick of it! I see you bringing in your henchmen, following me in the cooler, chasing me down the street. Treat me with some damn respect." 

Words were exchanged. They were not kind. We thought we'd seen the end of her. 

But she was back one week later, doing the same damn thing. 

So now there are rules. 

If you make something and there's an excess of flowers left over from the pack, you have to make something out of the leftovers or she'll pick through them and stuff them in her bag. 

If you cannot make something out of them, you must throw them out. 

If you throw them out, you must break the heads off first. 

The trash cans must be emptied every night before 5:00. 

We do not keep trash bags in plain sight. 

Break down all empty boxes, or she will use them in place of trash bags. 

Do not leave any food or drink where she can find it. 

Do not leave any half-used rolls of floral tape where she can find it. 

Do not let her know anything about you- lest she use it against you. 

If you speak of a Thief, you summon a Thief- speak quietly, and never her name or you invite trouble. 

The basic rules one makes when dealing with pests. Or fairy-folk.

There are rules and there are rules and there are rules. 

If you want to keep a pest away, you make these sorts of rules. But if you want to get rid of a pest indefinitely, you have to remove their food source. And Wren's food source was her discount. 

You start exercising your right to say 'no' to a customer in small ways. 

She saw a bunch of carnations in the trash and said: 

"Oh baby, these are still good! I'll take them off your hands for you!" 

"They've been sitting without water for hours." 

"They're still good!" 

"They were out in the sun." 

"Oh baby, I've been working with flowers for 40 years and I know that these will still be fine for a couple of days!" She picks a bunch of them out of the trash and shoves it in my face. "See, it's still stiff- it's still good!" 

"Okay," I said. And before I could stop myself: "Full price."

Her eyes just about popped out of her skull. If it were just a little bit colder, I would have been able to see steam coming out of her ears. 

We stared at each other for about a minute, waiting for the other to flinch. She took the bunch away from my face and threw them back into the trash. While she was in the cooler, I took the liberty of snapping the heads off of them and burying them further into the garbage. 

And so began a war between the flower shop and the Flower Thief.

She came in: every single night. And each night, she got me. 

Again.

"Oh no, baby! These carns are supposed to be 39 cents a stem. I can bring up the email." 

"Sure." She brings up the email. "I see that they are 39 cents but... this was for Saturday." 

"Yea, and I bought those carns on Saturday and you charged me full price!" 

"Saturday." 

"Yeah." 

"You didn't buy these on Saturday. You bought them Friday." 

"Well I didn't know that they'd be on sale, so I need them for that price because I didn't know they'd be on sale." 

"The sales are one-day only. I can't adjust a sale from Friday to reflect Saturday's sale... on Sunday." 

She made a noise that reminds me somewhat of a cement mixer. 

 And again.

"I got a bad banner last time, can you print me a new one?" She shows me the banner in question. It's white. The 't' and the 'h' in 'mother' ran together. 

"Sure." 

"Okay, I need it to say 'Beloved Mother' and I want it in pink." 

"Sure." 

I print it. I ring her up $5. 

"Oh baaaaaaby, no, that one should be free." 

"Grandpa said- banners start at $5." 

"Oh, but you sold me a bad one last time." 

"We haven't sold you a banner in three weeks. How long have y'all had that body sitting in your cooler?" 

She grumbled, and paid. 

 And again. 

"I swear you been workin' every night this week! You must be tired," she said, nerves plain in her voice. "When do you get a day off?" 

"When the work is done." 

"That ain't what I'm askin'. When's your next day off, baby?"

"I stop working when the work is done, Wren." 

She narrows her eyes, which is a fun change from them bugging out of her skull like a fruit fly. "You don't ever get any days off?" 

"When the work stops, I rest."

 And again. 

"I'll be in and out, I know y'all want to get out of here on time," she said- announcing her presence to the entire class. She piled her stuff across the register counter and Grandpa began ringing her up. 

"Oh baby..." 

"No. We're doing away with the discounts." 

There are twenty people in the workshop for the class and Grandpa doesn't want to make a scene. She pulls her into the back, and I choose to make my instructions louder to mask the sound of them yelling. 

"So you're going to take your hypericum berries and you're going to cut the stem to about ten inches-" 

"How can you do this to me?" 

"And you're going to slowly fill the vase with these berries to kind of set the shape of the arrangement." 

"After all these years and this is how you treat me?" 

"Fun fact- you might know hypericum berries as their more common name: St John's Wort! St. John's Wort has been used as a medication for depression prior to modern medicine." You see- I, too, have taken notes from the Chattering Order.

"You can't do this to me," Wren said, stamping her feet like a toddler.

"But I wouldn't recommend eating them. However, they do smell somewhat like baked brown sugar." 

Stamp, stamp, stamp. 

Wren threw herself into the cooler and began putting a bulk of her flowers back. 

"This is robbery," I heard her say to Grandpa at the register. 

"Is it now?" 

 And again. 

She came in and immediately reached for a half-empty box of oasis bricks (the green sponge material that we use to hold flowers.) She said few words to me, few at all. She talked to Carrie about how she was going out to the country for awhile, to take care of her nephew's property. She needed to stock up. And oh- don't worry about it, she knows what she's doing. She's part of The Family.

She is in no manner of speaking, a member of The Family that owns this shop. Not even a third cousin. 

I saw her beeline for a rose I'd set in the trash. I picked it up, opened my mouth, and bit the head off of it. She stood in the middle of the workshop, absolutely stunned. 

Rose petals have the vague texture of arugula, by the way. Slightly sweeter, though. Tough to swallow in one go. 

She ran back into the cooler and didn't talk to me. 

I began taking down numbers. 

27 bricks of oasis. One pack of roses. Ten calla lilies. 1/2 pack of assorted greens. 

I punched the numbers in to the register. As if sensing something was amiss, she emerged from the cooler. 

"$54? What do I have that's $54?" 

"The oasis. They're $2 each." 

"Oh no baaaaaby, they're $1." 

"I can text Grandpa and ask her." 

"... that won't be necessary. Why are you charging me $22.50 for roses? You know my prices by now!" 

"22.50 is the price for a pack of roses." 

"22.50 is everybody prices." 

"Welcome to 'everybody.'" 

"I ain't paid a price increase in 7 years!" 

"The price of milk went up, Wren. So does everything else." 

She was seeing red, I knew it. There's a vein in her forehead that pops out when she's angry and it's the same shape as the river that runs through my home town. She sized me up, as if wondering if she could take me. 

I'm 256 pounds of 4H beef, and I have a knife. Try me. 

"I'm gonna call Kyle on this." 

"Do it." A lifetime of retail has made me immune to 'I'd like to speak to the manager.' 

She grumbled and put things back. Carrie offered to watch her, I held up my hand. 

"Can you do something for me  on these carns? They're the last pack in there and they're lookin' kinda ratty." 

"9.50." 

"9.50's the regular price." 

"Regular price is $14." 

"No it ain't." 

"Is today. You're taking our last pack and we need those for funerals." 

She put them back. 

She gave me a credit card. It seemed fake, but it ran. Every time I see here, she's got a different card. Did she print this one this morning, too? At least she stopped trying to sell me on Bitcoin. As you can see, it made her incredibly wealthy. 

She gathered her things and left. "Guess I'm getting the rest of my flowers from KROGER!" 

There are things you want to say. Like... I hope they enjoy your company just as much as we do. Or: Haven't graced them with your presence in awhile, huh? But at the time, it was better just to watch her leave with her minuscule bunch of flowers. I get a choice in where I loan my voice. 

Not here. 

Is it over? Nah. She'll be back for another round. But one day she'll finally retire in the way that she's always threatened to. And then? Then it can be as over as it ever will be. 

It is shocking to come from a history of retail, where you're not allowed to even hint at the idea of a customer being wrong, where you have to override every single price change to get the scores up, where you have to just let them steal your things and pull the wool over your eyes... 

... to flat-out telling someone 'no.' 

"No." 

It's such a great word. 

There are rules and there are rules. 

And there are thieves that the rules are made for. 

And there are words like 'no.' 

And all those things are magic in very human ways. 

[sugar-petals]

can you give us more thoughts about domestic yoongles? the taemin's one (wich I love) just made me miss the cat boy so much ;o;

i have a phd in househusband yoongi so let me fire out some ideas for ya.

myg at home headcanon

🐱 word count. 1.9k | fluff, slice of life, slight nsfw mentions, x reader, bullet points

The doorbell sound is a recording of Yoongi imitating a doorbell. He’s such a meme. Ceci n'est pas une pipe.

Seemingly, he teaches himself a new recipe every week. To perfection. Yoongi is very particular about sticking to the recipe and wielding his kitchen tools in the right way. He collects knives, olive oil, and still hates cutting onions.

He separates sleep time, work time, and couple time as the holy trinity. For each, he switches his mood.

Blushes easily no matter for how long you’ve been together.

Establishes his own radio show where he DJs at one point.

Yoongi keeps an extreme track on the garbage schedule. He knows exactly what is due when. Separating the trash is a must. That includes sorting out fake friends trying to get between your relationship. Your social circle as a couple is extremely deliberate.

Yoongi deems himself a terrible host for guests. Unless Hoseok is there to drag him out, it's true he rather stays in the kitchen or at the barbecue preparing the menu courses rather than making small talk. He leaves the hospitality bits to you, however you want to go about it.

What he lacks in conversing with guests, he makes up in bed, God is absolutely fair.

He sings and hums pretty often and has his own vernacular of extraterrestrial uwu noises. It's an alphabet that you have to yet decipher but it's incredibly cute.

Self-made paintings everywhere around his house. 

Yoongi hasn't gone clubbing since grammar school. The most he does is going to a restaurant at lunch with very close friends. And always in a work context. His private life is so secluded from everything else and paparazzi just don't spot him anywhere, Dispatch thinks he must live abroad.

Very well, he does consider his big ole house a separate country. It's a living organism with a studio, gym, trophy room, small-size basketball court, and vastly equipped kitchen. A home theater as well, he likes American movies (like Inception) and Korean action genres, and you can stream whatever you fancy in there whenever you like. 

Yes, he has underwear with cute little bears on.

There's even a little pond in the backyard. Yoongi, Pisces he is, likes fishes after all. Sometimes he sits at the edge of the 'Little Ole Min Lake (LOML)' and stares into the water for literal hours with his chin parked on his palm.

His fridge is so high-tech and futuristic, even Yoongi is rendered clueless by its AI sometimes. The washing machine, too.

Yoongi watches RuPaul’s drag race. What did you expect? He finds it so humorous.

Owns lord knows how many comic collections.

Favorite holiday destination: New York.

Christmas is basically 50% you unveiling new music equipment to him in the garage and Yoongi almost fainting at the sexiness of it. The other 50% is spent holding hands and orgasm after orgasm until the new year since you loose track of time.

Goes on long rants why he’d marry you again every weekend.

Making you presents is his specialty. Always accompanied with a hand-written note. He writes a lot of things by hand for you in general. Texting, basically never. Always on paper.

No sex without a blanket and socks on. Yoongi gets cold very very easily and just doesn’t like showing skin. You buy him a heated blanket for his birthday, he even uses it in his studio chair.

Chronically addicted to making out.

Matching black outfits and glasses.

Laughs at even your worst jokes or phrases you didn’t expect you even uttered.

Yoongi owns the phoniest, most secretive-looking black car ever and nobody knows about it. Even he forgets he owns it, in fact he genuinely acts like it just doesn’t exist. Hilarious. And that guy has a level 1 Korean driver's license. Which allows him to drive trailers and busses and fucking trucks, and construction machines, let that sink in.

It's really a genius curse. Yoongi being put to the test will always deliver but he won't choose to execute his full skillset if he doesn't have to. Well, pragmatic. He's not as phony as he thinks he is, which is even more hilarious.

He uses that behemoth of a car so scarcely because he'd rather have things delivered to his doorstep and he's stingy with gas. Also, he doesn't like traffic and driving because of the traumatic shoulder accident and his tendency to space out. Translation: You drive that thing... that monster... it really is an impressive, fast, and scary machine. 

If someone devious ever even remotely manages to invade his privacy and get past the doubly-installed security system, he has enough money to deal with it no matter what.

If it concerns your privacy, he's a red belt. And owns Jin's number if a taekwondo master is required. Jimin's if it needs someone with kendo skills.

If Yoongi needs someone to go on a complete rampage, Jungkook lives just down the block. He can sprint to Yoongi's bunker I mean mansion within 45 seconds. 30 if it's very urgent. 20 if the reward is an instant ramen splurge with Yoongi's black card.

He has a sexy, glamorous sword collection hanging on the living room wall anyways, so. Who the hell is dumb enough to mess with him and his expensive lawyer in the first place.

But just in case, who knows... Yoongi settles matters shruggingly, anonymously, and with cash and he's too exhausted for violence, but don't underestimate his deter-min-ation and network for emergencies. Also, he is Agust D after all.

He will bonk a naughty burglar or kidnapper across the head with a wooden cooking spoon or take him down by throwing a basketball if the situation requires it. Damn, his reflexes are so fast, a feral cat in motion. So, lean back and sip on your drink of choice. Things are cared for.

If Yoongi is the one being kidnapped or a highly skilled stalker invades the property at night when he's fast asleep (nothing can wake this man during certain hours, strong REM right here): Don't forget that honeyboy is a Dodgers fan. There are signed baseball bats everywhere in this damn house.

In that sense, your parents visiting you here for the first time thought you were an undercover thug couple. Not to worry mom and dad, you both just like sports very much okay.

Yoongi walks around in all black clothes and the rooms are all seemingly dark. Even if you live together, you don't know his skin care routine. It's clear to you he's some sort of vampire.

Since Yoongi always forgets to remove his makeup, you made it a habit to wipe it down when he's about to pass out. He won't lie, he enjoys that kind of affection.

Holly is your resident child. You're essentially a family.

He insists to tackle this by himself, Yoongi sees his therapist monthly. Not shifting responsibility is something he's stubborn about and he pours his emotions into writing. You will do conversation about deeper stuff, but he says it's mostly up to him and his own mind. He dislikes burdening you or opening up too much and it's something to respect rather than force him about. If he wants to share a thought, he will. It doesn’t mean he can’t trust you or sucks at communicating (we know that he’s direct). Yoongi simply can’t put that much pain in such few words nor should you alleviate it for him.

Calls from the manager faze Yoongi as much as Jimin is bothered by gravity. If he’s busy kissing your body slow mo, who the hell dares to disturb his worship. 

This man had so many let-downs and interpersonal catastrophes in his life, he's super discerning with people. Because he rolls that way, during their first meeting Yoongi uses his psychology certificate on your friends. You see him squint at them, he listens very closely. After they pass the vibe check aka meow radar, he befriends them, too.

Yoongi doodles Grammy trophies everywhere to manifest them.

Yoongi shaves his legs.

All the sex toys he’s ever bought are black. Gotta vibe in style.

He spends ridiculous amounts of time in the studio but he's yours for the remainder of the night, breakfast, and he makes a lavish lunch and dinner.

Um, consider his head parked between your legs. The Hongkong line was not a joke.

Doesn’t mind you squishing his cheeks whenever and for how long you like. 

Every other weekend he gets flowers, vouchers, and gifts — not because of fans, they don’t know where his house is, but because he donates so much.

Namjoon often drops by and cleanses the area with his crystals.

Yoongi is a photography major so you can ask him to take professional, ceiling-high black and white shots of you.

Feeding each other food lovingly. Man, this guy got lips.

He set up a library just for you, in the exact historical aesthetic you like the most. Send him the link to any book you want, it's basically in the online shopping cart already. As I said, he wants to make you presents like every week.

Sometimes he sits on the other end studying English videos and vocab while you read. And yes, he's already 95% fluent but pretends being merely intermediate. He knows technical terms even native speakers have never heard of.

He collects pajamas and earrings.

Swears on the phone.

Namjoon being the horniest member is a cover-up story. Yoongi masturbates almost unreasonable amounts of times, by himself and in your arms when going to bed. Not gonna lie, it’s a sight to see his hands at work. He’s almost equally obsessed with fingering you once you ask him.

Yoongi was the one asking you to move in and almost had a nervous meltdown before meeting up with you to tell you just that. 

He’s the little spoon and of course a sleeping burrito to hold tight.

Finds you equally attractive in any state or styling. Yoongi practices what he preaches, he always reacts the same and says the same. 

Jams out to outrageous beats Namjoon sends him by dancing in the studio. You walk in on him every time. Was embarrassed at first, now you dance along.

Has bought you a life-sized Yoongi pillow and customized you a giant Shooky to hug when he’s not at home over night.

Owned a wine cellar until he quit drinking. Turned it into a piano room instead.

Only you know Yoongi has a serpent and dagger tattoo.

Scrubs the bathroom religiously.

The house smells like restaurant food and his extravagant perfumes half of the time.

Sometimes he has to remind himself he’s married to you and not his coffee machine. He shall be forgiven. You can’t complain that he doesn’t love you enough, nor is he ever not adorable when drinking his latte.

Never wears short sleeves. It can be scorching and he’ll wear a jacket. 

Tell him and the cap stays on during sex.

He grows his hair out and puts it in a low bun. The bangs remain.

Yoongi has installed the most fire-proof building in the entire city it seems. That he wanted to be a firefighter when he was young definitely shows. Figures the house has to be protected from heat: His blasting studio music and Yoongi himself are just way too sizzling.

Still melts into a puddle when you kiss his nose.

Couple sunrise watching. 

© submissive-bangtan 2017-2021. all rights reserved. do not repost or translate. all depictions fictional.

[arrowflier]

Okay, I'm trying to figure out how it all works here with asks and I'm so sorry, if I do it wrong.

Thank you for all your beautiful speedwritings, they're perfect. You're so skilled, it's incredible.

If you still take prompts, I wonder whether you could do something about Ian talking to the paralayzed Terry and telling him how he, as a farther, could do right about Mickey and how Mickey deserves everything and how while Ian doesn't understand WHY, he sees that Mickey cares about his asshole of a parent. I guess, I prompt something like Ian being protective over Mickey in front of Terry, maybe without Mickey being in the picture for the most part.

Thank you in advance, if you consider that!

Thank you anon!  Content warning: Terry Milkovich.  He deserves his own.

"Hey, I gotta run out for a sec," Mickey says after rooting unsuccessfully through the refrigerator in the new Milkovich house.  "They're out of that protein stuff the doctor said he needs."

"I'll come with you," Ian says, already grabbing for his stuff, but Mickey stops him with a hand on his chest.

"Need ya to stay here," he tells Ian.  He bites his lip, not meeting Ian's eyes.  "Don't wanna leave him alone, you know?"

No, Ian didn't know.  Because if it were up to him, Terry Milkovich would be alone and miserable for the rest of his hopefully short life.

But Mickey still felt something for the man.  If he could even be called a man after what he put his children through.  And Ian might not understand that--he stopped caring about Frank years ago, and his real father years before that--but Mickey is tired and anxious and staring unfocused over Ian’s shoulder, and Ian isn’t going to let him down.

“Okay,” he says instead.  “I’ll hold down the fort.”

And Mickey is smiling, quick and thin, and pecking him on the side of his mouth in thanks and in goodbye.

“Keep your mouth to yourself under my roof, boy,” Terry growls from the living room, and Mickey rolls his eyes and flips him off without looking.

“Back soon,” he promises Ian, backing away.  “Don’t kill him while I’m gone.”

“Aw shucks,” Ian answers flatly, eyebrows raised.  “There go my afternoon plans.”

Mickey comes back over at that, kisses him again.  Pulls back more slowly, ignoring Terry’s grumbling.

“Make it up to you later,” he says lowly, and winks.  Then he pats Ian on the cheek, and is out the door with his wallet and the ambulance keys before Ian can say another word.

It’s quiet for a moment.  Ian keeps on with what he was doing before Mickey left--rinsing out the old bowls in the sink, sipping on a beer--and Terry does the only thing he can: sit and mope.

The quiet doesn’t last for very long.

“Why are you still here?” Terry demands to know.  “You after my ass now?”

Ian can’t help it; he snorts so hard he can feel bubbles from the beer in his nose.

“Oh yeah,” he reveals.  “You got me all figured out, Terry.  I’m just with your son so I can get to your saggy, decrepit ass.”

It feels good, to wind Terry up the way he used to wind up Frank.  To taunt him without having to worry about the repercussions.  And Terry must realize he’s enjoying it a little too much, because his next words are a lot harder to laugh off.

“Shoulda put bullets in both of you when I had the chance.  Fuckin’ queers.”

Ian goes still.  Water continues to splash off the dishes, wetting his arms, but he ignores it.

“What did you just say?” he asks quietly.

“You heard me, you pansy-ass fuck.  I should have put you in the ground where you belong, and let him jump in after you.”

Ian reaches out calmly to turn off the water.

“You shouldn’t say shit like that,” Ian says softly.  Softly but sure, a thread of something in his voice like barbed wire, like blood, like the butt of a pistol against Mickey’s head.

“Did I hurt your little girl feelings?” Terry goads.  “Gonna cry now, princess.”

A humorless laugh escapes Ian as he pushed back from the counter, makes his way to the living room where Terry has no choice but to sit.

“You know,” he says casually as he does, “I used to wonder why you hated us so much.”  He smirks.  “The gays, you know.”

He doesn’t stop until he’s right in front of Terry’s chair, towering over him.  He doesn’t lean forward, doesn’t put his hands anywhere near the man.  He just stands, and looks at him.  Waits until Terry’s typical sneer starts to fall, for his eyes to dart nervously around the room.

"But that's the thing, isn't it?" Ian says finally.  "I don't give a shit if you hate me, or why."  He shrugs.  "Don't even really care if you hate him."

"Then why the fuck are you talkin to me?"

"Because your opinions are garbage," Ian answers plainly.  "You're garbage.  And if it were up to me, I'd throw you out with the molded leftovers and never spare you a second goddamn thought."

"But it isn't up to me," Ian adds.  "And Mickey asked me to take care of you, so here I am.  For him."

"You his bitch now?" Terry mutters.  His eyes may be about all he can move, but he uses them to full advantage, eying Ian up and down like there's some visible sign of his

"Thought it was the other way around."

"I'm not his bitch, Terry," Ian says calmly.  "And he isn't mine.  He's my husband--yes, husband, despite your best efforts--" he repeats firmly at Terry’s responding scowl, "and I will do everything in my power to make him happy."

"Milkoviches don't do happy," Terry grunts.  "Makes people weak."

"Well Gallaghers do," Ian counters, "and it makes us strong."

"You always did think you were better than us, you gay ginger fuck."

"Better than you?" Ian repeats.  "Abso-fucking-lutely.  But better than Mickey?"  He snorts.  "Not in a million years."

Now he does lean in, bracing his hands on the arms of that hospital-issue chair.

"Despite your best efforts, your son is amazing,” Ian tells the man he hates more than anything.  “He's a good man, a good husband.  A good uncle to my sister's kid, my brother's.”

Terry is avoiding his eyes, trying to look like he isn’t.  Ian doesn’t care--he revels in the knowledge that his very presence makes the man uncomfortable.

"I've hurt him too, you know,” Ian confesses, just to see the faint flinch Terry tries to hide.  “So many times.  And he should have left me for it, but he didn't.

“Because unlike you,” Ian continues, “Mickey takes care of the people in his life.  The people he loves.”  

Ian pulls back, away from Terry’s face, gives him room to breathe again.  Rubs a hand over his own face, and sighs.  He can hear a door slamming outside--Mickey, probably, already back from the store.

“I'm working on making it up to him,” he tells Terry while they still have the room to themselves.  “All the shit I've put him through.  Because of all the people on the earth, he might deserve it the most.”

Mickey’s footsteps are approaching the front door, and Ian moved back toward the kitchen.  Before he starts the water again, he looks back at Terry one more time.  At the face that once haunted his dreams, now pale and sweaty and forced still.

“Maybe you should try to make some things up to him, too.”

[astaroth1357]

"Hi kinda new. I don't know if this is where requests go, but if you haven't done it yet can I request an MC sneaking into the boys beds?" ~irenethehotdog

The MC Sneaks Into the Brothers' Beds While They're Asleep

@irenethehotdog don’t worry, I found ya anyway. 😁 Sooo there was a kind of tender way I could have played this… but then there was a funny way. I hope you're alright that I went with the funny way. 😅 I got two bed requests that are kind of similar-ish but how I’m interpreting them makes them just different enough to warrant two different asks. Here's the first one!

Check out my Masterlist for more!

Warning: Comical nudity? Is that NSFW-ish?

Intro:

Sometimes everybody needs a little comfort, especially in the middle of the night. Any number of things could have drawn the MC out of their bed: bad dreams, nagging thoughts, just general fear of the darkness of Hell that surrounded them, but they decided to try to soothe their unease with the company of their demonic housemates! Wonder how that turned out for them..?

Lucifer

I mean, if you’re feeling a little alone at night, maybe a little scared, it would only be natural to want to seek solace with the strongest person in the nearest vicinity, right? ...Right?

To say it was maybe ill-advised to just climb into bed with Lucifer would be an understatement… Frankly, if the enchantments he had on his door weren’t specifically meant for Mammon then they might have ended up in a very compromised position. But somehow, they managed to infiltrate the demon’s private sanctuary and get right up to his bed.

Now, Lucifer is not a heavy sleeper. Not at all. He’s grown pretty accustomed to waking up at all hours of the night because of his brother’s antics, so he felt the shifting weight on his mattress almost instantly.

They probably weren’t expecting him to suddenly jerk upright and spin towards them, fireball in hand ready to lob at their face... but that’s what they got.

After realizing that it was just the human and not Mammon coming in to take his stuff again, he made them sit down in front of his fireplace while he gave them a looong lecture about personal boundaries and how it’s really not smart to sneak up on demons like that… 

But he was still sympathetic to their sleep-deprived state so he offered them some tea and Devildom sleep remedies in hopes of getting them back to bed. ...Just not his. Back to your bed with you, MC.

Mammon

Mammon was their “babysitter.” Their protector. Their guardian. So why wouldn’t they want to go to him on a difficult night?

Getting into Mammon’s bed was hardly a challenge, sure they had to tiptoe through the garbage heap that made up his bedroom floor but it wasn’t Mission Impossible or anything…

What did catch them off guard was just how… not clothed he felt after they slid in under his covers. Like, pretty much wearing nothing at all. Not even a pair of courtesy boxers. 😓

It was their squeal as they flung themselves out of the bed that actually woke Mammon up. They had him ripping the covers off, ready to leap into action and everything, which definitely didn’t help matters. (Or maybe it did, depending on your point of view 🤷‍♀️).

Both parties pretty much turned into a cursing/blushing mess as he shot them embarrassed, rapid-fire questions while desperately trying to pull on some sweats. Meanwhile the MC stayed plastered up against the wall of his bedroom, answering him in equally defensive shouts.

Eventually, their fuss woke up Lucifer who was quick to send both of them back to their respective beds. The House teased them mercilessly for weeks… How were they supposed to know Mammon slept naked??

Leviathan

Levi might be a… strange choice for bedmate at first glance (he doesn’t really even sleep in bed, but a tub hardly meant for two people). However, there’s a certain level of approachability to him, isn’t there? Considering his own struggles with anxiety, maybe they thought he could relate…?

They tried knocking on his door first, thinking he might have been gaming, but there was no answer. When they walked in and found the otaku actually asleep for once, it seemed like their wishes might have actually been granted!

...But then came the actual trouble of trying to get into bed with Levi to start with. There wasn’t really an easy way to squeeze their body in past his because the tub was so dang narrow…

Any rational person might have just given up on the venture, but not MC. Whatever's possessed them to want to sleep with this awkward shut-in has a pretty good hold on them yet.

Lack of sleep might have been what gave them the bright idea to just try and lay on top of Levi veeerrry sooooftlllly…. Which is how the poor demon woke up to them halfway straddling his waist in the middle of the night.

His remarkably high-pitched scream woke up the whole dang House and the sheer amount of force he used when trying to jerk out of the tub toppled it over… Even after many apologies (and a trip to go buy a new tub), Levi still double locks his door at night to this day… 😓

Satan

Really an odd choice there, not going to lie. They’re well aware of the possibility that they could accidentally wake him and he maaaay not be the best waker (what being Wrath and all) but if it’s irrational worries that got you down, why not go to the most rational person in the House? Sounds like a perfectly logical decision, right?

That might have been what their half-baked disillusions were telling them on the way to Satan's bedroom but actually standing in front of the sleeping man was a whole other story. They felt crazy, genuinely crazy… But they still slipped in under the covers anyway.

Satan stirred almost immediately and turned to face them… but his eyes could hardly keep focus and the look of dopey confusion on his face could have honestly made the perfect screen background. "Huuuuuh…? MC…? What're you doin' 'ere…?"

They kind of had to hold in a laugh while they explained that they just wanted to sleep next to him that night. Satan beamed them an oddly serene smile and just nodded. "Okaaay…" With that he seemed to roll over to go back to sleep… but his mind caught back up with him before his drowsiness did.

"Wait a minute..." Ah shit….

 Like Lucifer, Satan ended up giving them a pretty good lecture on boundaries and the like when he finally snapped out of his stupor. Thankfully he wasn't mad, just a little embarrassed that they had seen him like that. He offered them a good book or two to pass the time if they couldn't sleep, but sent them back to bed all the same.

Asmodeus

Asmo probably doesn’t get people coming into his bed with completely chaste intentions very often, but he’s by far the most emotionally in-tuned demon in the House. If they're after a little sympathy, best just go to Asmo right?

They weren't really sure what to expect when they walked into his room... Does Asmo sleep like a Disney Princess, hair and makeup done perfectly in defiance of all laws of beauty?

Does he sleep like a '60s housewife, with curlers in his hair and leftover chips of mud mask on his face?

Does he sleep like the god of all sex that he is, sculpted chest for the eyes to see and everything underneath laid bare like a honeypot of temptation??

The MC doesn't really get to know, because when they pulled back the covers to climb inside they were met by the sight of someone else's very naked ass taking up the spot where they thought Asmo should be.

They go back to their room willingly, dejected and maybe a little scarred... Apparently they were just too late to the party...

Beelzebub

Okay, everything about Beel screams “Hello! I’m a warm comforting teddy bear!”...aside from the hungry parts. It’s really not hard to see why they’d want to go to him if they’re feeling a little vulnerable.

They didn't worry too much about being quiet when they walked into the twins' room. Belphie could sleep through a rock concert and Beel wasn't too far behind him (as long as he wasn't hungry).

They figured that the tall twin wouldn't mind too much if they just crawled into bed with him… He had make a similar request of them before, it was only fair right?

As they were preparing their tired body for a good night's sleep, they gently pulled the covers back next to Beel but they probably weren't expecting to find so many food wrappers surrounding him… or bags of chips… or packages of cookies… or-

Apparently Beel had yet another sleep-eating run and this time he seemed to have brought the whole kitchen back with him. There was hardly enough room left for Beel anymore, let alone the MC!

Considering their options were to either wedge themselves between a havoc roast and a bag of jerky or just brave one more night on their own, they cut their losses early and went back to their own bed...

Belphegor

They didn’t have to know Belphie since Day One of being there to pick up on how hard he slept. The man was pretty much in a coma for most of the day and that included his nightly rests too. Would he even notice if they… per say… slipped into bed with him to get a little comfort from their nightmares? Surely, he’d stay asleep, right?

When they didn't see his sleeping form in the room he shared with Beel, the MC eventually found Belphie up in the attic room. His little hideaway with a plush-ass bed to boot.

They didn’t bother being quiet at all. They figured that Belphie could have stayed under for anything short of banging pots and pans in his ears so why try to mask their footsteps?

They never expected him to be awake. 😰

The moment they lifted the covers, Belphie struck like some kind of blanket crocodile! He grabbed them by the waist and dragged them into the spot of the bed right under him with a impish grin on his face.

Turns out they weren't the only ones having sleeping problems that night and as they felt the full weight of his worn out body settle in nicely up against theirs they knew that maybe, finally, they'd get a good night's sleep… 🤭

[bubblesuga]

Once In A Lifetime

Summary: Yoongi is a pain in your ass, but sometimes that's okay. What's a cafe job without a little drama?

genre: college!au tags: smut, fluff, mutual masturbation, cream pie, dirty talk W/C: 4,740 a/n: i have a weak spot for blond yoongi

You seethe silently while you stare at the schedule on the pin board in the back room. You begged your boss, damn near pleaded on your knees in front of her not to schedule you with him.

Its hard enough to close with only two people but fuck, if it isn't impossible when you're with Min Yoongi.

Don't get it wrong, Yoongi has a knack for customer service and he's quite good at making coffee but for some reason-- when the two of you were completely alone-- he became unbearably annoying.

It's like the moment the open sign turns off, he forgets how to work. While you're in the back cleaning dishes, sweeping the kitchen, counting cash drawers, taking out the garbage and everything else involved with closing, Yoongi turns on his speaker and plays whatever song he's been working on recently.

Okay, sure. This job isn't the most important thing on the planet. You both are just trying to get a little extra cash while you push through college, but you'll be damned if you get paid the same while you do all the work.

"Kati!" you yell from the back, your arms crossed and your nails digging into each of your biceps. You hear footsteps behind you, causing you to turn around expecting to see Kati.

Unfortunately for you, Yoongi leans in the doorway with a smirk on his face, "Awe, we're closing together again!"

"Awe we're closing toget-" you begin to mock but end up giving up and allowing your frustration to take over, "shut up, Yoongi."

"Don't seem so glum, sugar plum. I promise I'll be a good boy and listen to you." His words were too sweet to be true, they were laced with his famous sarcasm which only made you want to yell at him more.

Before you have the chance to counteract his sarcasm, he taps your back lightly before turning around and walking back out.

If there was one thing you did enjoy about him, it was the view of him when he walked away.

As the hours pass, eventually you and Yoongi are the last ones there. When Seokjin said goodbye, you silently pleaded that he would stay for just a little while longer. He gave you a slight apologetic look, glancing at Yoongi before shaking his head and walking out.

A groan leaves your lips.

It's only 9:30, you still have half an hour until the shop closes and there's way too many pastries left over.

Yoongi stands behind you, silently wiping down the coffee machines and humming along to whatever song was playing over the loud speakers.

Leaning back against the counter, you cross your arms and watch Yoongi for a moment. In a dark denim apron and slim black shirt, it feels as though the uniform was made for Yoongi. You can tell he's been working out lately, his muscles are more defined beneath the fabric of his shirt. It's killing you that despite being as annoying as he is, he's still immensely attractive and he knows it.

The snapback rests backwards on his head, blond hair poking out subtly. He turns, meeting your eyes for a moment which causes you to turn away quickly. It's quiet for a while again.

"I don't think anyone is going to come in," Yoongi breaks the silence, "I doubt Kati would mind if we closed early."

"I think she would. She said she gets a rush in the last 15 minutes so we should be prepared for that."

"We're not going to get a rush, we're a coffee shop and it's almost 10pm on a Monday."

"I'm not disobeying Kati just so you can play your shitty music and do nothing while I close."

"Shitty," he scoffs, "my music is hardly shitty, and I do help close. Who do you think cleans the front?"

"Wiping down espresso machines isn't the hardest part of closing." Maybe you're being a bit too harsh. Maybe you're trying to cover up the fact that he caught you staring at him earlier.

Yoongi sets the yellow rag down on the counter, turning to you fully, "I also sweep and mop up here. It's kinda hard to do anything else when your coworker does everything else. Ya ever think of delegating, huh?"

You feel your eye twitch. Just as you're about to respond, the bell above the door rings and you instantly wipe away your anger and throw your best customer service face on.

"Hi, good evening! What can I get for you today?"

As you help the customer, Yoongi walks to the back.

You make her coffee, heat her Panini, and speak with her for a moment about the aromatics of the freshly ground coffee beans that you had become used to. You didn't have the heart to tell her that you didn't smell it anymore, so you talked about how that was your favorite part about working in a cafe.

When she leaves, you realize it's finally time to close.

Switching off the open sign, you open the cash drawers and begin counting. Anything extra goes into the safe, and it seems as though everything was in place tonight.

In the back, you can hear Yoongi moving around and you don't question what he's doing.

Cleaning, sweeping, and mopping... Eventually you finish the front and move to the back but you stop suddenly.

Yoongi isn't playing his music.

Raising an eyebrow, you push open the door to the back and see that the kitchen is completely spotless.

Yoongi puts the last of the dirty dishes away and turns to you, "Don't worry, princess. I did it just the way you like it."

"T- thank-" you stutter but you're not able to finish your sentence before Yoongi pushes past you and walks out the door. The bell rings and you realize that he's left. The two of you managed to close in under 20 minutes.

You can't help but feel a sense of guilt wash over you. You definitely we're being a bit too harsh, and it seems to have affected Yoongi more than you thought it would.

Sighing, you push a hand through your hair and walk out the door.

Your drive home is silent. You're not one to overthink, especially when it comes to Yoongi, but you feel the need to apologize.

After your nightly routine, you plop into bed and glance at your phone. It doesn't take much to make you open your contact list.

(Y/N) sent 10:55

hey. just wanted to apologize for calling your music shitty. for the record, it's not. you're pretty good.

Your phone dings quickly.

Yoongi received 10:56

no need to be sorry, i know i'm good.

You don't respond, rolling your eyes and tossing your phone onto the night stand.

~*~*~

Closing the next day was much more simple than before. Yoongi did the back again, but this time you could hear his music playing again.

The beats are much more incredible than you'd ever admit to him in person. His voice speaks melodically to the music, drowning out your thoughts. You find yourself tapping your foot to the beat as you finish cleaning up the front.

The song finishes and there's a sudden change of pace.

Instead of a strong bass line and incredible drum work, a piano plays through.

Your interest is piqued, your legs carrying you to the back where Yoongi stands. He doesn't notice you, allowing the song to continue to play.

"This is gorgeous." you murmur, and a switch flips in Yoongi.

His hands, though soaked with water and soap, reaches up and turns off the speaker. He turns to you, panicked, "N- no one is supposed to hear that one. I didn't realize it was so loud."

"So you're telling me you just...listen to your own music?"

"Well, no," for the first time, you see a blush creep across Yoongi's face, "I play certain songs for you, and there's certain songs that are just for me."

"You play songs for me?" Any resentment you had towards the man dissipated in an instant. Instead, butterflies swarmed in your tummy. Butterflies for him.

He scratches the back of his neck, "Well, I don't play them for me. I want you to see how good I am."

"Humble," you hum, giggling slightly. Yoongi seems taken aback by the sound but doesn't get a chance to dwell as you continue to speak, "why can't I listen to this song?"

Yoongi sighs, "It's embarrassing."

"Let me listen," you begin to walk towards the speaker but Yoongi puts his hands on your shoulders to hold you back, "come on, Yoongi."

Yoongi doesn't give, but you manage to slip passed his hands and fall against his chest. He chuckles, wrapping his arms around your waist and waddling you backwards. In a last ditch effort, you attempt to reach passed him but his grip on you is surprisingly strong.

"No, no, Princess. That song is for me and me only."

The nickname has a stronger affect on you than usual.

"But..." you stick your bottom lip out in a fake pout, "I wanna hear the softer side of Min Yoongi."

Yoongi's eyes dart to your lips, licking his own. You're suddenly aware of just how close Yoongi is keeping you, his cologne filling your nose. He's cute from this angle, his nose is rounded and is tinged with red at the tip. His eyes, though dark, are brighter than usual. He smiles softly, a gentle giggle falling from his lips.

"I can't tell you how many times I've wanted you this close to me." Your heart melts at his words, and you look down to the way your chests are pressed against each other.

"Why didn't you say anything?" you question.

He smiles, "I did, you just didn't listen since you were so preoccupied with your little closing routine."

"My little closing routine makes the opener's life so much easier." you defend, trying to distract yourself from the way his hands sit at the base of your spine, playing gently with the hem of your shirt.

"I'm sure the opener is very concerned with the fact that you make sure you set the forks before the spoons and the knives right after." Yoongi whispers, his tone joking but his eyes glazing over. Even in the horrendous white lighting of the kitchen, he looks beautiful.

"Bite me, Yoongi."

Yoongi bares his teeth and scrunches his nose, "If you insist."

Without wasting a second, Yoongi's mouth latches onto your lips. You gasp into the kiss, but Yoongi's grip tightens and holds you closer.

To say your stomach exploded into butterflies would be an understatement. Your entire body lit up like a Christmas tree, heat radiating from your skin because Yoongi was everywhere. His hands were large, slipping underneath the hem of your shirt and resting on your lower back. He didn't stray any higher or lower, simply planting himself in one spot while his lips continued their attack on yours.

He smiles against your lips, taking them away only to begin his reign over your jaw line and down your neck. Then, he nips.

One.

Two.

Three.

By the fourth, his teeth are biting at your collarbones, but his hands have not moved from your back. You mewl above him, desperately clinging to his arms. Damn your neck for being so sensitive.

"Yoongi," you breathe, "touch me, Yoongi."

"I am touching you." He murmurs stubbornly against your skin.

You whine, "Your hands, Yoongi."

"Hmm," he hums, chuckling, "I like when you say my name."

Suddenly his hands drop down to your ass, kneading it through the thin fabric of your work leggings. He pulls himself back up to your face, planting his lips against yours again as you moan into his mouth.

Yoongi slips his hands between the two of you, hooking his fingers beneath the band of both your leggings and your panties.

"Are we really about to fuck in the kitchen?" You ask, your chest heaving.

Yoongi leans back, taking a second to assess the situation. "You're right, my apartment?"

"No, your car."

"Dirty girl," he grins, taking his keys out of his pocket, "I'll turn off all the lights. Go get ready for me."

You nod, grabbing his keys and walking out of the door. As you're about to reach the front door, it already swings open and Kati waltzes in completely unexpectedly.

Panicked, your eyes go wide and you halt just before leaving from behind the counter. Kati glances up from her phone, "Ah, perfect, is Yoongi still here?"

Swallowing, you nod carefully.

"Great, I need to talk to you both," she turns towards the kitchen, "Yoongi! Get your ass up here!"

Closing your eyes, you pray to god that he's composed himself a little more than you have. Sure enough, he walks from the kitchen and seems just as nonchalant as ever, "Yes, boss?"

"So, I need you two to close for the next couple weeks together. Jackson quit and Woojin can't work nights."

"...and?" Yoongi questions.

She seems slightly taken aback, "Well, I need to make sure you two won't kill each other."

Both you and Yoongi hold back laughter.

Resting his arm softly on your shoulder, Yoongi's skin is still hot against yours, "No promises, boss."

"I'm serious," she scolds, "It's only a couple weeks then I'll never schedule you two alone again."

"Yes ma'am." you put your hand up in a salute.

Working alone with Yoongi for 2 weeks? What could possibly go wrong?

Kati smiles, "Alright then. I'm gonna grab the money from the safe then I'll let you two get back to closing."

You two silently watch Kati unlock the safe beneath the register, taking out the deposits from today. Yoongi's arm hasn't left your shoulder, his fingers brushing lightly against your collarbone. When you turn over to him, his face showing no emotion but his hands doing more to you than you could ever imagine.

Kati turns back, "Okay, be here at 2 tomorrow. Thank you!"

As she walks out, Yoongi's arm falls from your neck.

You turn to him, raising an eyebrow as he wipes his brow.

"I was shitting bricks." Yoongi says, causing you to tilt your head. "Why?"

"You have hickeys all over your neck."

Your eyes widen, your hand flying to your neck, "Yoongi! Do you know how fucking bad that could have been?"

"I know, that's why I covered your neck." He explains, gesturing with just as wild eyes.

"No, no-" you shake your head, "We almost fucked in the kitchen, Yoongi. That's not okay."

"But we were gonna go to my car!" Yoongi's shoulders slump and his mouth is agape in confusion.

"Imagine if she had walked in when your tongue was down my throat."

"Well I would have asked her to join."

"Yoongi!"

"I'm kidding, you know I only have eyes for you babe." He steps closer, leaning forward to press a kiss against your lips once again. You pull away, shaking your head.

Despite the fact that it was taking everything in you not to kiss him again, not to giggle at his lighthearted jokes and just follow him to his car, you knew that you had to practice self-discipline otherwise no work would ever get done with Yoongi.

"Are you upset?" Yoongi seems hurt.

"No," you sigh, "I just don't think it's a good idea for us to do anything here."

Yoongi straightens his back, clearing his throat and adjusting his clothes, "Right. Wouldn't want anyone's coffee getting out late because we're in the back fucking."

"Right." you whisper.

Yoongi smiles softly, "Doesn't mean I won't imagine it."

"Such a gentleman," you roll your eyes, bending down to grab your bag, "I'll see you tomorrow."

~*~*~

"Can I get an Dirty Chai with oatmilk, Yoongi?"

It's the first time you had one of those late night rushes that Kati was talking about. There's a line out the door, drunk college students desperate for some sort of carbs to soak up the alcohol. Yoongi is running back and forth from the panini press to the espresso machine while you grabbed pastries and muffins for what seemed like hours.

It being busy hasn't distracted you enough from the past couple of days with Yoongi.

Yoongi has respected the boundary you set-- for the most part. Walking passed you in the small space behind the counter, his hands brush along your back, a trail of heat following his fingertips. Though it's not the most intense of touches, there's a sensuality of it that leaves you nearly a panting mess.

Your conversations have been more open, you continue to ask him about his music and he wonders aloud about your studies. He learned that you were a history major, specializing in paleontology. Ever since then, he likes to ask questions about random dinosaurs. It's certainly cute, because you can tell he's genuinely interested but he's only interested because you're the one telling him.

You still haven't been able to listen to that song that he started, and he insist its because its not good enough for the rest of the world to hear it yet. You're sure its finished, he's just not ready for you to hear what it's about. Something tells you you're getting close though.

Yoongi turns around a few moments after your request, setting a Dirty Chai on the counter. You call out the customer's name and smile as you hand it to her.

"Swap me, babe. My hands are shaking."

Oh yeah, the pet names have evolved as well.

"Shaking?" you question, but you don't have enough time to dwell as the panini press dings and you're rushing to the other side of the front.

Sure enough, as you glance back Yoongi's hands are shaking while he begins handing out pastries.

Finishing up a few more coffees, you call out customer names and the dining room begins to clear out. The line is gone and a few groups sit in the dining room, eating their food.

The second that Yoongi hands the last pastry out, he walks to the back without saying a word to you.

Glancing at the customers, you swallow and follow him.

When you enter the kitchen, Yoongi's taking deep breaths against the sink. He doesn't notice you, so you lean opposite him against the counter.

Leaning forward, you rest your hands on either side of Yoongi's face, forcing him to look you in the eye.

"That was a lot of people." Yoongi breathes.

"It was, but we kicked ass." you reassure him, but his breathing doesn't slow down.

"I think I'm having an anxiety attack," he explains, "can you hug me? P- pressure helps calm down the fight or flight response and-"

You don't allow him to finish, pulling him close to you and wrapping your arms tightly around him. His face buries itself into your neck, his breath fanning raggedly over your skin. It takes him a few moments, but his breathing slowly begins to calm, his heart rate slowing against your chest.

"If its ever getting to much for you just let me know and I'll fly solo for a little bit." you speak softly, your hand moving up to stroke the back of Yoongi's head.

"I can't do that to you," he sighs, "I'm sorry you have to see me like this."

"No, I get it," your nails begin to scratch his scalp gently, "a lot of drunk people wanting food is overwhelming, especially when their patience is non-existent. If you ever need to take a breather then I won't get mad."

"You already hate closing with me, I don't want to make it worse."

Your heart breaks.

"No, I don't hate closing with you. I think I was just trying to hide my feelings." You never expected to say this to him, but at this point you'll do anything to make him feel better.

He pulls away from your neck, a shy smile on his face. He has done a complete 180 from two nights ago.

"You have feelings for me?"

"Well, I certainly feel something." You look down, hyper aware of how close he is to you.

He grins, leaning down and pressing a soft, quick kiss to your lips. Before the conversation can go any further, the bell dings open and both of you jump apart, moving to the front to help yet another customer.

The rest of the night went by much more smoothly than earlier.

Yoongi turns on his music in the front while you do the dishes in the back. He's playing his usual mix, and you find yourself humming along to the songs as they come.

It's not until you're almost finished do you hear the familiar piano notes begin to play. Peaking your head out of the kitchen, Yoongi holds the speaker in his hands and watches you carefully. Slow melodies play out underneath his gentle voice, the lyrics portraying the man's first love.

You cross your arms, soaking in the lyrics as much as you can. His face is red as more emotion plays out. It doesn't take you long to realize that what you're listening to is the personification of Yoongi's passion. A conversation is held between him and the piano, and Yoongi sets flame to it all.

When the song comes to a close, you don't move, or breathe, or speak.

"Oh my god, say something!"

You look up, meeting Yoongi's scared eyes.

"When you become famous can I sell your autograph on ebay?"

Yoongi laughs, "Yeah, you can sell it."

You don't think of a witty response. Instead, you walk towards him and hug him once again. Resting your head on his shoulder, you two sway for a moment, almost dancing with the air. The atmosphere of the empty cafe has become much more calming than it was before.

His hands dance along your spine, "You know, I've never shown anyone that song before."

"I'm glad that my insistence made me the first." you tease, inhaling Yoongi's cologne. He certainly knows how to smell good.

"Your insistence, yes," he starts, "but also your impeccable ability to strengthen my confidence."

"Awe, does Yoongi have a soft spot for me?" you try your best to hide the way his smile is making your heart flutter.

"Always have." He murmurs, his lips kissing the tip of your nose.

"We're not very good at the whole 'not-kissing-at-work' thing." you giggle, feeling his grip tighten.

"I don't want to be good at it."

He doesn't allow you to respond before his lips are on yours once again. Against them, he smirks, "Shall we go to my car tonight?"

"God yes."

With steamy windows and Yoongi's hot body on top of yours, you both completely forget about your surroundings. His back seat is incredibly comfortable, your head resting on his shirt while he nips along your stomach and down to your hips.

It didn't take long for the two of you to move, you listening to Yoongi's every silent demand as he taps your hip to signal you to lift them.

Smiling, he murmurs a soft, "Good girl." before sliding your leggings and panties off in one go.

Now fully exposed, goosebumps raise under your skin. Yoongi is slow moving, his tongue drawing circles on your pelvic bone before biting down harshly. You gasp, your back arching into him.

"How long have you been this wet?" Yoongi asks, his fingers moving forward to collect your arousal. He slips through your folds, pushing a single finger into your aching heat.

You can't formulate a response to his question, because he begins a tormentingly slow thrust into your head, curling his finger upward.

Dipping his head down, his lips wrap around your clit, and he sucks.

Your hips jerk against him, but the pleasure doesn't play out for long before his pulling away.

"I don't want you to cum yet," he chuckles when you whine, standing and unbuckling his belt, "I just needed to make sure you were ready."

"And what?" you bite playfully, "you gonna pull out a huge snake or some shit?"

"I don't think so," Yoongi responds, sliding his pants down his legs, revealing his cock, "it's alright."

It's more than alright. Your mouth waters over the sight, twitching slightly from his arousal. It's curved upward, the tip already a hot red and leaking precum. His hand wraps around the base of it, stroking it slowly. Out of habit, you slide your middle and ring fingers into your mouth, sliding them down your body and to your clit.

You eyes don't pull themselves away from the way Yoongi is skillfully touching himself, thumb running along the tip and a string of saliva falling from his mouth to the tip of his cock.

"You like watching me touch myself?" He asks, his voice significantly deeper than it was before. You nod, not looking away from his cock.

"Answer me." he takes his hand away from his cock and brings it to your chin, forcing you to look up at him. He's willing to sacrifice his own pleasure to get an answer out of you, and for some reason that only turns you on even more. You speed the movements on your clit, moaning softly while you look into Yoongi's eyes.

He clicks his tongue once he notices your movements, grabbing your wrist and dragging it up to his mouth. Licking your fingers clean, he grabs your other hand and holds both of your wrists against your pelvic bone, just out of reach of your heat. He likes playing games, and he likes to win.

"Yes," you finally manage, "yes I like watching you jerk off."

He grins, a gummy grin that makes him seem much more innocent than he is. The words are dirty falling from your tongue but it only seems to heighten the fire in Yoongi's eyes.

"Good," he says, gripping his cock again and thrusting into his hand, "should I let you cum just from watching me?"

Your wrists twitch in his other hand, "P- please."

"Okay, whatever you want princess."

He lets go of your hands and your fingers fly to your clit, desperately rubbing harsh circles while he continues to stroke himself.

As his pace speeds up, he begins to let out soft, subtle moans. Your chest heaves at the sounds, hands shaking while you push yourself even closer to the edge.

"Louder, Yoongi," you beg, "please."

Yoongi bites his bottom lip briefly, a small whimper falling from his mouth while you arch your back, the heat in your abdomen growing stronger and stronger.

Yoongi's hand stops suddenly, "Where do you want me to cum?"

You grin mischievously, gesturing to your core.

Yoongi's eyes widen, crawling closer to you and leaning down, "You want me to cum in your pussy?"

You nod frantically.

"Who would have thought my pretty princess was such a dirty girl."

"Just fuck me, Yoongi." you whine, pushing your heat towards him. Yoongi does just that, slipping his cock into you. You instantly clamp around him, causing his hips to stutter deeper into you.

He gains his rhythm quickly, not holding back as he holds your hips into his back seat and pounds into you harshly.

A deep growl erupts from his chest at your small whimpers, an almost primal instinct taking over him as he leans down to kiss you. The second his lips touch yours, you gasp and feel yourself release. A loud moan of his name falls from your lips as you come undone, pushing his hips into yours with your heels.

Yoongi follows suit quickly, his release coating your walls and his head collapsing onto your chest.

"Holy fuck." He says after a minute, his mouth agape while he tries to catch his breath.

"Better than you imagined?" You feel proud of yourself for having such a huge affect on Yoongi. It's not often does he seem caught off guard.

"Way better," he replies, "the best I've ever had."

You run your nails over his scalp again, feeling him shiver against you, "Maybe if you take me out, you'll be able to have it again."

Yoongi pulls his head up, "When, where, what time?"

"I'll leave that up to you," you smile, "let's just cuddle for now."

"Don't have to tell me twice."