#even little things like a hermit staying over after dinner too long. that messes up their night routine !!!

[solargeist]

regardless of how Xelqua feels abt seeing Grian as his dad, he still looks up to Grian and wants him to like him.

Xelqua can get pretty jealous and almost protective too—as much as a little kid can be.

[give-grian-rights]

Bets Against The Void c7

ok i really like validation so its back again this week

crossposted on ao3

Whitelist AU by @petrichormeraki​

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first chapter

They never quite fell back to sleep.

It took only three hours for them to start rolling out of their makeshift bed, and back to scrambling around the hobbit hole and making the most of the resources.

The two teens didn’t really talk, after how their last conversation finished.

Tommy peaked down into what looked like a not-so-hidden stripmine, before Tubbo’s head perked up.

“Someone’s at the door,” The brunett chimed, carefully striding their way over.

It was once again Grian, with a shulkerbox in tow.

“Sorry to bother you guys again,” Grian gave a sheepish wave while balancing the box against one arm and his chest. “I remembered last night that I didn’t leave any cooking supplies, or open up where the kitchen is.”

“It’s not just you,” Tommy decided to add, turning back towards where the entrance was. “That fuckin’ bird showed up again this mornin’. Woke us up.”

At that, Grian groaned. “Yeah..He does his own thing in the early mornings and at night. The hobbithole was basically his house. I’ll enclose him tonight, sorry for that.”

Moving the box under an arm, Grian tilted his head. “Can I go back and show you where the kitchen’s hidden?”

Tommy merely raised a brow. “It’s your house, ain’t it, dickhead?”

Tubbo lightly jabbed Tommy’s side.

“I made it, yeah, but you two are staying in it. As long as you’d like it, it’s yours and I won't come in without your explicit permission.”

With a second of baffled confusion, Tubbo cleared their throat and nodded.

“Yeah! Uh. Come in, I guess..?”

It took only a few minutes for Grian to expose the tucked away room by the super smelter setup Tubbo and Tommy were yet to investigate.

“I didn’t feel like decorating a kitchen since I already had so many plans with my megabase..If I had it my way I wouldn’t have made a kitchen at all, but the Jungle Gang of Hermits would’ve been severely disappointed if I was only having menu-crafted food.” He’d casually explain, pulling out a paper towel roll from the shulkerbox as he swiped down the tops and barren counters.

“How many Hermits are in the jungle?” Tubbo asked, brows furrowed. Their tablet’s visual narration was muted, as it repeatedly described Grian wiping off the dust from the counters.

“Ehh..Five? Including me? There’s also Ren, but he’s right on the edge, down in a masa. Beautiful setup he’s got going on.” He’d breezily explain.

Nodding along, Tommy glanced around the room.

“This is cool ‘n all but we don’t have to use this space. You left.. Shitloads of stuff, in the chests.” The blond had pointed out, turning back towards Grian.

With a shrug, Grian hummed dismissively. “Real food’s a much better idea, and i’m fairly certain steak’s most of what I got left, down here. Maybe for dinner but..Not really for breakfast, or anything.”

Tubbo shrugged. “Fair enough, yeah..We don’t exactly..Cook much? I mean- I know I certainly haven’t had the time to get much in me, other than coffee.” 

“Ooh, yeah, definitely a good traditional-prepped item.. Other than tea on occasion, I don't tend to stray from crafted food. Even on the days I sit down and eat it like a proper meal.” Grian nodded along, glancing off as he dropped the paper towels he had been using to clean into a little bin.

Tommy sighed, leaning against the wall. His head was pounding from the lack of sleep. “What’s the d-”

He was cut off  by a not-so-distant firework bang.

Tubbo flinched and ducked their head down, throwing their arms over their head. Tommy, on the otherhand, lowered to the ground, eyes sealed shut with his hands slammed against his ears.

“Hey! Hey, it’s okay, they’re duds, they’re fireworks! No firework stars, either, just a puff of smoke. You’re both okay. You’re in the hobbit hole. It’s fine, everything’s good.” Grian hushed, giving exaggerated movements as he demonstrated slow breathing.

The blond boy growled, turning to snap at Grian- “We’re not babies!  We’re fine.”

Grian nodded, stepping back to give them both more space. “Okay. It’s okay. And it’s alright if it’s not okay. That was probably just Scar. He’s gonna be in and out of there. He’s the closest neighbor.” He had calmly explained to the pair.

Tubbo had deflated, taking a breath. “Thank you. Sorry. Uh. Y-Yeah.” They nodded numbly.

Tommy raised, folded his arms and didn’t meet the gaze of Grian. His face was twisted as he glared down at the floor. He felt weak.

Taking a small breath, Grian tentatively stepped back towards the door. “I’m going to head out and let you guys cool down, okay? You’re both free to go anywhere you want.”

With that, he departed, leaving the two teens alone.

A brief, tense silence fell between them.

“..That was fucking stupid.” Tommy scoffed.

Tubbo’s brows furrowed, turning towards him.

 “Excuse you?” They spoke, voice edging towards accusatory.

“They’re gonna fuckin’ think we’re weak, Tubbo-”

“I’m sorry that i’m not a fan of explosions! Yeah- that- that one’s my bad, Tommy.” Tubbo growled, going to step away.

Tommy grabbed their arm with a loose grip. “That doesn't matter, Tubbo, we’re- we’re supposed to be able to do better than that! We look like kids to him. We look like cowards-”

“I’m not a coward, Tommy! Oh, void, can’t you just drop it?” They hissed out, yanking their arm free.

“For the love of Prime- Tubbo. Tubbo, I'm not mad at you! So I need you not to be mad at me-”

“Too late for that!” They spat, rushing themself out the door with a slam.

Left behind was Tommy, tense and red in the face with a growing pit of guilt.

...

The people slowly started to pour back into the server. With everything going as expected, the admin breezily flicked and dismissed his communication screen, leaning back as he rested atop the incomprehensible mess of community chests.

Frequent pings and beeps ran through his ears as the comms went off, mixed with alerts and chatting as people settled back down.

He hadn’t bothered to check the messages until an hour in, when a high-pitched chirp emitted. A private message.

Summoning his screen back, he read over it.

ItsFundy: Hey Dre? My messages aren’t reaching Tubbo. Why aren’t the two back yet?

Dream quietly laughed. The server could use a quick break from them. 

It only took a quick flick of the wrist to pull up Tommy and Tubbo’s info. They were both in a world. With the MCC servers closed to the public for maintenance at night, Dream could only assume the two had scampered off to Hypixel or something of the like.

Upon a brief investigation, the servers were left as unlisted.

...Nonetheless, Dream will allow himself to revel in some peace for now. Let them get a little scared. A little more respect for the server-

Dream sneered.

They’re lucky they’re as tolerated as they are, here.

...And without them present, well- that sure will leave L’manburg in an interesting situation…

Dream: Can’t say I know. Sorry. They probably ran off, dont worry too much about them.

Making up his mind, Dream scrolled back to the Player information.

“It would be a shame if they went M.I.A, especially with how fresh the wound on L’manburg is..” He mused.

A click or two on the screen and it was done. They were locked from the server. 

“Enjoy yourselves, idiots.” He yawned, kicking his legs off the chests and onto the floor.

His axe was summoned to his hand, and he stalked off, a chill running through the air.

[jcmorrigan]

Somehow, I can imagine Vinny, Al and Victor ""adopting"" Taylor so...👀

I’m just going to do this one off the top of my head and see what happens

-Taylor was accepted into RMU, but oh no! They don’t have enough money to cover the dorms. Their parents are just “It’s too bad you don’t have any friends in G4 to stay with″ and Taylor realizes...oh no...I have friends in G4.

-They didn’t want to admit how much they actually hoped Revenge House would accept them when they called. Taylor will tell anyone who asks that they called for the sole purpose of getting shot down and ruling this out.

-Vincent: “I see. Well - “ Albert: “YES” Victor: “I’ll fix up the guest bedroom” Vincent: “...I guess you’re staying with us then”

-There are a few house rules. Don’t go in the basement (there are cyborgs in there). Don’t roam the house after curfew (that’s when we let the cyborgs out). Don’t feed Winston (Taylor isn’t sure if this one is a joke or an actual warning).

-Otherwise they get a pretty nice bedroom, soft bed, quality blankets. Not soundproof and they can hear the screams and weird metallic noises from the rooms two floors down, but hey, they won’t complain.

-At first, the guys pretty much leave Taylor to their own devices. That’s the nice thing about them being a legal adult: they don’t actually have to be good or attentive parents

-Victor and Albert are the two who pay them the most attention. Victor actually carries on conversation like a normal person. Well, mostly. He still always kind of sounds like he’s gathering information to use for nefarious purposes, but Taylor’s used to that by now. Also being called “my dear Taylor” was offputting at first but now they see it’s a genuine term of affection.

-Albert is...an interesting guardian. He’s always approaching Taylor to talk about non sequiturs, usually morbid, and Taylor has gotten used to this and kind of enjoys it. “Speaking purely in hypotheticals, what do you think tastes better: the spleen or the lungs?” “Spleen. Why are you even asking me this? That one’s obvious.”

-But weirdly Albert is in exchange the one who actively cares the most for Taylor. He makes sure they’re stocked up on supplies, and by that I mean Taylor enters their designated bathroom to find no fewer than twenty toothbrushes, all different colors, bound with a ribbon and a note that says “Pick your favorite! ~AK”

-Also instead of taking them shopping for new college wardrobe, Taylor is awoken at 6 a.m. by a phone call from Albert. “I’m at Hot Topic and they have an assortment of androgynous leather accessories. What’s your size?”

-Vincent and Taylor don’t interact much, at first. But they develop a relationship based on their lack of relationship. They both enjoy the value of comfortable silence. They can be in the same room doing separate things and know they don’t have to bother with greeting one another outside of a quick nod or 0.2 seconds of eye contact.

-Right away, though, they all make it clear that Taylor gets free food. The trio does their usual routine of making extremely high-quality luxury food and just lets Taylor chill out doing nothing until the dinner bell rings. The catch is that some of these things, they weren’t sure were food before this, but hey, turns out they don’t hate sashimi.

-Classes start. Every day when Taylor gets home and brings their books and assignments of the day to the dining room to study, Albert and Victor flock around them. Albert: “How was school? Did you make any lasting memories? Do you have an ARCHNEMESIS yet?” Victor: “Does Professor Browne still have a stick up his ass, metaphorically speaking? Has anyone of your preferred gender asked you out yet?”

-Until dinner time, the dining room is Taylor’s study sanctuary.

-They know better than to bring friends home, however. Not a single college pal who’s entered Revenge House has left with at all a good feeling. Some of them have considered calling the cops because there’s no way these people aren’t going to murder Taylor in the dead of night (sillies...Taylor’s the one person they WON’T murder in the dead of night)

-And as for dates? Unfortunately, the few times Taylor has been asked out, they’ll keep it secret and arrange a meetup at a neutral location and show up at the restaurant only to, halfway through the date, realize that they can spot distinct flashes of pink, red, and black positioned around the restaurant like the Bermuda Triangle and greeeaaat, their guardians followed them to spy on the date.

-Which isn’t always bad because one time somebody actually tried to take advantage of Taylor in the alley out back of the restaurant and before any articles of clothing could be forcibly removed, the offender practically explodes from the impact of being shot by Victor, punched by Vincent, and stabbed by Albert at the same time (the bullet almost clipped Albert but it was worth it)

-Taylor’s never sure how to introduce these people. Parents? Guardians? Friends? Roommates? Usually, it ends up something like “This is my...this is...this is Vincent. He’s Vincent. That’s it.”

-They go out as a “family” unit sometimes, usually to dinner or something where they can all just have conversation. There’s usually going to be some rando who walks past the guys and goes “Your daughter is adorable!” and Albert pulls out a rather long and wicked knife while saying “Their preferred pronouns are they/them, and I HIGHLY suggest you respect that.” Victor and Vincent glare on in the background.

-Taylor is torn because they like having guardians who respect their gender identity but also some of these people are just making honest mistakes

-Victor: “I just want to warn you that when you engage with other college students, you may be pressured to try smoking, drinking, and other narcotics. In a strange environment, any of these may be laced with poison or spiked with different drugs. Here in Vincent’s mansion, our stashes are always pure, so if there’s anything you want, just ask us and we will get you a safe supply.” (Though “safe cigarettes” and “safe hard liquor” are oxymorons to a 19 y/o but Victor is trying. Taylor doesn’t even want any of those things)

-Sometimes, though........Taylor has to be the parent figure to these three

-They might end up trying to drink away their sorrows, falling asleep in a vomit-covered living room. Taylor will clean up any obvious mess and get them some pillows.

-Taylor: “So, did you ever want to...talk to me any more about the childhood stuff that was bothering you?” Albert: “...Yes”

-One night, though, they make a big breakthrough. They find evidence for the Myers revenge scheme and confront Vincent with it.

-Vincent tells them everything. Not without getting a little emotional.

-Taylor’s just like “Oh.”

-Somehow this turns into a hug.

-The guys FORBID Taylor from getting directly involved with Myers. That said...they do act a consultation role sometimes.

-Eventually they meet some of the basement cyborgs. Also they’ve gotten pretty friendly with the Dream Eaters. If all the guys are out of the house and Winston is doing his usual hermit thing, Taylor will be “babysat” by a group of awkward yet well-meaning monsters. (The Dream Eaters have been instructed to keep the cyborgs from eating Taylor, though, and they’ve had to actually step in several times. The Dream Eaters also like the taste of human flesh but Albert said this one is NOT FOOD so they respect that.)

-Those days when the guys come home dragging a corpse/an unconscious person, and Taylor catches them, and the guys stare at them like deer in headlights until they say “I never saw this. Carry on.”

-At some point, though, Taylor decides they want a little more, so they suggest “Do you guys wanna go to the mall and catch a movie?”

-Cue a mall trip that involves Vincent criticizing all the secondhand clothing, Victor flirting with the cashiers at every boutique, and nobody knows exactly what Albert is up to but there’s blood leaking from the dressing room so let’s not ask.

-They go to see a fall blockbuster that Taylor really enjoys and the three guys are having varying degrees of enjoyment toward. If it’s got deep themes, Vincent will be happy. If it’s got romance, Victor will be happy. If it’s horror, Albert will be happy. If it’s a superhero film, NOBODY BUT TAYLOR IS HAPPY (so they kind of like taking the guys to Marvel stuff to annoy them on purpose)

-They talk the guys into accompanying them on other Taylor-style adventures. Like bowling. Bowling was either the best or the worst idea they had, because it turned into a four-person DEATH MATCH. (Figuratively, this time. Maybe literally next time.)

-Vincent draws a HARD LINE IN THE SAND at pizza, though. He will not even look at a pizza, let alone eat one or enter a pizza establishment.

-After some months, Taylor and Vincent are conversing more, but it’s usually Taylor asking questions about how the legal system works because Vincent can explain it better than anyone else and in a way that doesn’t fly over Taylor’s head.

-Sometimes, though...Taylor gets sick. The first time, they didn’t actually expect any of the guys to do anything about it. But Vincent drops off hot meals without a word and leaves, and rude as he is, the food’s always DELICIOUS and particular faves of Taylor’s. Victor is the “Text me if you need anything, sweetie” guy who will drop everything if Taylor needs an ice pack or a barf bin. Albert will sit in the room at a safe distance to talk to Taylor about random things and make sure they don’t get lonely. Also, Taylor will have weirdly no nightmares whatsoever, and they know Albert has something to do with this.

-Sometimes...Taylor is sad. All three of the guys will sit around them, encouraging them to talk about everything that’s bothersome. Brief hugs will be exchanged (Victor’s are a bit too tight since, y’know, metal arms, but that’s fine by Taylor). And then if there was a particular entity that caused the sadness, well, that entity might end up dead in a pool of blood in a back alley later.

-There’s also a contract on the table stating that if Taylor is ever incarcerated, then Vincent, Victor, and Albert will break them out of jail at the earliest convenience. Taylor isn’t sure when this will ever have to be used but they’re glad it’s there.

-They make an even more amazing meal than usual for Taylor’s birthday and spend way, WAY too much on gifts. Some of which aren’t even things Taylor wanted (”It’s...a baseball bat with barbed wire around it. Uh...just what I always wanted? Thanks, Albert.”)

[madllamamomma]

Part 4 for my first Muriel smut. Beware! NSFW, 18+ crap below here. But it’s mostly fluff.

Pumpkin bread part 4~

You notice the warmth of Muriel’s arms as you slowly flutter your sleepy eyes open. He lays on his side, looking like he had nodded off to sleep as well. You're flat on your back blankets cover you both naked bodies. Muriel’s left arm resting on your waist, his right arm being used as your pillow. You roll over to meet his chest trying to make sure you don’t wake him, his eyes blink slowly open with a long sigh with the movement, licking his chapped lips. Your hand cups his cheek, and utter softly and sleepily, “Hi.”

He softly smiles back, “Hi……..You’re finally awake.” He says with a yawn. You move your head off his arm so he can stretch it out, and you lay on his chest. He pushes a stray hair out of your face.

You yawn, rub your sleepy eyes, and stretch your toes a bit. “How long was I out for?”

He glances to the small window, it’s nearly twilight. You shoot up in shock. “What?! I’m almost at night? It was just morning!”

He sits up next to you, you lean on his arm snuggling his bicep with a deep sign and whisper to yourself. “Stupid pumpkin bread… stupid elixir….. Stupid Asra….”

A little shiver cues you to pull up the covers over your bare chest, you notice that you feel a lot colder now. His hand brushes against your forehead to check your temperature. “....not hot anymore.” You touch your face with one hand to confirm it. “Huh, I guess so... I guess the um.. ” You clear your throat. “.. the effect were... ahhh...  fulfilled?” You awkwardly chuckle. 

“Are you ok?” He asks softly and he starts to look off at the wall sheepishly. You look up towards his face. 

“Yes…. Actually…..what about you?”

“What?” He meets your eyes with a snort.

“I mean…. Are you alright?…. That was… uh… a bit much…you know... to just be thrown at you all of a sudden. It wasn’t very fair of me to do.”  You cheeks blush a bit, still feeling a bit ashamed.

Your hand starts to run through his black hair. “I mean… It was very… sudden.” He pauses thoughtfully. “But… I mean..” You almost can’t hear him speaking under his breath. “Itwasnotallthatbad….Iamaguyafterall…..”

“Really?!” You shoot him a surprised look as he scratches the back of his head, eyes still looking the wall. His cheeks are getting redder as he continues.

“I mean… yeah. I was afraid of hurting you-- I will always be afraid of that-- because you're just so…. tiny... But it was --- it.. It felt--” He tries so hide his pleased grin.

“....Good? You felt good?” You look at him intently. He nods sharply his ears start to heat up. “...So you--You liked it??” He nods sharply again. 

You wrap your arms around him making him fall back to the bed feeling such relief. You return to being on top of his chest, foreheads touching. He’s grin overwhelms him as you both fall back to the bed. He then looks a bit more seriously at you. “..Are you sure I didn’t hurt you at all?”

“Nope! I trust you, Muriel. I don’t think you can hurt me even if you tried. I just wish you trusted yourself.” You kiss his nose then his forehead. He pulls you lose hair behind your ear.

“Rhemi… I--” He shuts his eyes tightly for a second, trying to force words out. “I...I love you, too.” It doesn’t say it often, words are hard for him; But when he does, it always makes your heart feel fluttery. “I want you to tell me things... I know I’m not good at--” He waves his hands around gesturing to you. “.. all of this... but I want you to tell me things. You let me tell you things.” 

You kiss his lips softly.  his arms travel up and down your bare back loving the feeling of your skins under his fingertips. After laying there for a minute or two you sit up at the edge of bed picking up your clothes and placing your shirt back on. “Come on, let's go back to your hut and check on Inanna. I’ll make dinner!” He sits up in the bed slightly groggy, stretching his muscles in his shoulders. You thread your underwear and skirt on, turn to Muriel before standing to your feet. “What would you like to eat tonight? The shops shouldn’t be closed for another hour, we can go grab a few-- OOOF!”

THUMP! You legs give out, you nearly face planted before you are saved yet again by Muriel’s arms, pulling you back to the edge of the bed. You both just froze for a second before you burst out laughing. Muriel can’t help but join your laughter. “You’re a mess.”

“Yes. But I’m your mess!” 

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

Your legs still feel weak for a few days, from the elixir (and from your sexy hermit, but you won’t let him know that, you didn’t mind that part). A week or so go by, and you do your best to completely ignore Asra completely, giving him a very cold shoulder. You are still a bit pissed off at him, he did apologize, multiple times in fact (even though you felt it wasn’t the most convincing). After all, it did bring Muriel and you closer. Asra was also becoming very sulky. You decide to make him a peace offering to ease the tension.

Asra was standing at the counter looking through his notebooks, searching for something in the mess of books. You bring him his favorite cup of tea and make it just how he likes it. You set in on the glass counter where he was standing at. He looks up at you with glee in his eyes. “Does this mean you forgive me, Rhemi?”

You give him an eye roll and lean on the counter and smile a little. “Ugggh. Yes…” He gives you a quick friendly hug. “You know I can’t stay angry at you forever, Asra.”

He blows on it then closes his eyes and sips on the hot tea happily before parting his lips, “Ahhh...You know how to make a good cup of tea, Rhemi.” You feel the corners of our mouth start to curl upwards in delight. “I’m really happy you like it, Asra~”

He happily keeps sipping the tea, still rummaging through his note books. You return on working on your tasks for about fifteen minutes before Asra finally calls you over to the counter again. “Rhemi, have you seen that one notebook?”

“Which one?” You ask trying to pretend to be clueless.

He scratches his head and presses the tea cup for another sip. “The purple and green one---” He starts to take a small sip of the tea as you pull the notebook from behind your back giving him an evil grin. 

“You mean…. This one?? The one where you leave just anywhere?.....Where you keep…... a certain seduction elixir recipe in?” You flutter your eyes sadistically. 

He quickly glances at you, then to the notebook, back to you, then down to his nearly empty tea cup. “PPPPPPPPFFFFFFFFF!!!!!!!” He whips his head around away from the counter, sputtering the tea from his mouth, looking mortified. “Rhemi….. You didn’t…. Please tell me you didn’t!”

You chuckle menacingly, “Well it’s not exactly the same exact brew…” His right eyebrow starts to twitch. His mouth is wide open, sweat starts to bead from his face as you continue, “....This one is much faster.” You lean closer and loudly whisper. “....And you drank a lot of it too!” 

He touches his cheeks, they are already becoming feverish. He faces screaming with panic, and looks a little impressed with your slyness, and but attempts to hide it with a smile. “....Rhemi—“

You shrug, smiling. “What? The effects should wear off in approximately three days.. maybe a week…. Unless---”

“--Ok. Rhemi, I get it! Touche! I deserved this…very funny. Ha ha!” He pauses scanning your face in hopes that you are not at all serious. But his knees start to wobble and he drops to the ground to his knees with a Thud. His mouth turns into a tight low frown, pitifully looking back up at you. “Please….. Rhemi. You are a better person than I am.” He says softly almost a horse whispering, gives you a desperate smile, folding his hands, pleading.

You fold your arms, and laugh. “Ooh….?” Then kneel down to meet his eyes. “No, Asra…. I’m really not. Besides I’m sure that Julian—“

Asra moans slightly and starts to melt on the floor and mutters, “Oh shit.”

“Oh yes!” You boop him on the nose with your pointer finger. 

Asra’s attention then goes to the shop door where Muriel’s tall figure squeezes into the small door frame. Asra swallows hard. He knows he’s in deep shit now.“Hey— hey Muriel! My oldest, closest, most trusted….. Most kind friend.” Muriel now kneels down to inspect his feverish face. “Hmm. You don’t look so well.”

Muriel quickly shoots you a look with a hidden smirk. You play along, putting your hand to cheek in pretend shock, “Oh no! Do you think he’s sick?” you snicker.

Asra’s eyes shifting back and forth between the two of you with growing concern.“What are you two— Hey!!!!” Muriel gathers up Asra under his arm, letting out a loud fake grumbly sigh. “Yep-- guess he’s gonna need a doctor!”

Asra’s brow now perfusing with sweat. “Wait! Wait! Muriel! Rhemi! Please, have mercy!---” He cries as he tries to wiggle himself free.

“---Nope!” Muriel and you answer sharply in union, quickly high fiving. Asra continues to desperately to get himself free from Muriel’s arm. But it’s no use. No once escapes the Scourge!

You barrel into the door of Julian’s clinic, Muriel ducks his head following after. Julian sat at his desk in the back, the sudden entrance startles him a bit as he slightly jumps. “Well hello, Rhemi and..uhh... M-Muriel.” Muriel glances at his irritatedly. “To what do I owe the pleasure--” He then notices Asra wiggling definitely underneath Muriel’s arm. He tilts his head down to look at Asra’s very feverish face. “What--ah-- what’s… what’s going on here-- umm....exactly?” Before Asra can speak, you cover his mouth interrupting. “Oh he’s got a bad fever! Julian! Needs to see you!~”

Muriel then chimes in, “...Some bad tea.”

Asra’s nostral’s flare as you remove your hand away from his mouth and you smile back at him mischievously. Muriel sets him down on the edge of one of the beds. Asra attempts to stand up immediately. “I am perfectly fine--” His knees buckle, Julian catches him before he completely drops to the floor.

“You are most certainly not!” Asra’s face crimson red, beaming at Julian’s arm euphorically sitting back at the edge of the bed. He shoots you and Muriel a bit of an irritated look. Julian takes his glove off feeling forehead. “God! Your burning up!” Julian then turns his attention to you and Muriel. “Wait-- Can’t you fix this… you know… with your hocus pocus?” He says while wiggling his fingers trying to look whimsical.

You tug at Muriel’s cloak, pulling him out the door quickly, walking backwards with your suspicious grin on your face and shrug before closing the door. “Nothing I can do~!”

Asra covers his mouth with his hand with his hand hiding it from Julian, mouthing, “Please don’t do this!”

You eye him through the small crack of the door waving your fingers. “Tell me how it goes! Bye, Asra!”

CLANK--- You lock the door with your magic. You hear a faint Asra’s muffled “NOOO!” behind the locked door followed by, “ Asra, did she just lock the door--?”

You both run off to out of the crowded streets to an alley way. Muriel and you try to contain your laughter. You laugh so hard that your stomach starts to hurt. Once you both recover, Muriel offers you his arm and you take it happily, leaning into him lovingly as you both walk back to the shop. 

The end ~

Finally! Am I right?! This has been helping me get through life currently. I haven’t written anything like this before so I home it isn’t too hard to read. I hope you all enjoyed reading as much as I enjoyed writing it. I love these characters they are a lot of fun. 

Part 1-> https://madllamamomma.tumblr.com/post/190897875066/please-enjoy-my-muriel-x-mc-smut-ish-i-am-not

Part 2-> https://madllamamomma.tumblr.com/post/190914002866/heres-part-two-on-my-muriel-smut-its-just

Part 3-> https://madllamamomma.tumblr.com/post/190921120191/muriel-smut-part-3-the-most-smut-there-will-be

[pastel-vampires]

The Vampire Muses. Keep in mind reading the wiki was the best source of information I could get for a majority of these characters since I can’t get my hands on the games.

Ayato Sakamaki:

Age: 16

The attention whore seeker

Likes: Takoyaki and pranking people.

Hates: Water. Ghosts/Ghost stories.

In his childhood, his mother would strictly force him into studying so he could succeed as the heir to the Sakamaki line. Often threatening him or giving him deathly punishments when he didn’t meet her expectations. This would lead to his slight fear of water, as one of the punishments involved her shoving him in a lake to drown until she decided that he should have learned something from it.

The only triplet who is left handed. Would rather play sports like basketball than sit down and study. Consumes an abundant amount of Takoyaki. His hobbies involve Basketball, glorifying himself as ‘Yours Truly’, and collecting Medieval torture chamber items as decorations for his room. (the deadly parts of them removed for when he decides to sleep in them.)

Fear him on April 1st, for he WILL find a way in pranking someone. Anyone. Once he finds a way to prank someone, he WILL take the opportunity.

Other notes: He insists on referring to himself as “Yours Truly”/Ore-sama (in Japanese it basically translates to a masculine word for ‘me/I’ with the honorific meaning ‘master’)

Total rebel. Also a bit of a tsundere but not as much as Subaru. Like the rest of his siblings, he has a hard time opening up to people. He’s closest sibling is Laito. But he also has a protective nature over Kanato. 

Headcanons: Possibly a Pansexual. Will trick/prank all of his siblings at least once per year. 

Romances: He’ll want your full attention and admiration. He’ll want your praise and approval. He’s been made to believe that he had to be the best or he was better off cast aside and dead in a lake somewhere. He fears rejection.

Kanato Sakamaki:

Age: 16 (believe it or not)

The tantrum brat/ “hysteric”

Likes: Teddy and Sweets. (And Attention)

Hates: Bitter and Spicy things. When people hold Teddy without his permission. When people do ANYTHING without his permission.

Since childhood, he has spent most of his time all by himself with only Teddy to confide in as his only trusted ally. His mother would only give him attention when telling him to sing for her, finding his voice to “warm her up” (she really messed him up by having him sing while she had her affairs. How can a kids singing arouse her? What the heck was wrong with her? What the hay? Why did she force him to do that until his vocal cords bled? How the fudge sundae?)

Other: he’s a mix of a tsundere AND a yandere, quite a deadly combination.

Headcanon: he is asexual but because of how he was raised, thinks that one HAS to enter sex at some point. Witnessing a lot of his mothers sexual affairs led him to believing that he had to give them pleasure. One of the efforts involved combing their hair. Her mothers influence has led him to believe that all women are selfish and always desires sex. If they don’t, then he sees them as prudes or just shy. He’s been left alone for so long that he was left to the mercy of his already messed up thoughts. He has a certain belief of how his little world should be and hates it when the things around him never fit in that world. 

Romances: He bites and punishes hard, but his kisses are always gentle. No matter if he’s angry or not. Never will he bite someone on the lips. Since he was left alone to play with his dolls more than his brothers, he enjoys comparing those he is fond of as dolls rather than people. 

Laito Sakamaki:

Age: 16 (believe it or not he is NOT a clone of Ayato or a slightly grown up version of him)

The manwhore

Likes: fancy things. Macarons. Crossword Puzzles

Hates: bugs and creepy crawlies. (I’m going to have TOO much fun with this)

*breathes* the insufferable “pervert’, as everyone ‘knows’ him as. He often seduces women and ‘gives them pleasure’ in his own sadistic ways. As this was the only way he could express ‘love’. (seriously their mother messed all of them up. I don’t know exactly how old he was when she started going after him for an incestuous ‘love affair’. It’s gross. And he didn’t like it. But because he was the most neglected of the trio in his childhood, this was the only form of attention she ever gave to him, and he was made to believe that this was ‘good’. It’s a really messed up situation.) He’s the most social and cheerful of the Sakamakis. 

Headcanons: He knows how to speak French, being known as the ‘romantic language’, he took an interest in it in an attempt to be more flirtatious. But during this journey into learning the French language, he discovered Macarons. Which became a genuine favorite of his. He believes that his pervert facade is real and will get offended if someone states it otherwise.

He’s bisexual, but due to the environment around him (andespeciallyhowhismothermessedhimup) was made to believe that people can only be attracted to the opposite sex

Romances: He’s a giver more than a receiver, but he likes being in control of what goes on. All he knows is sex, he doesn’t understand what love is other than that. (their mother truly messed them up. But he’ll put up a mask and think there’s nothing wrong. Even though he still doesn’t know why there are times where he doesn’t ALWAYS like having sex.)

 Subaru Sakamaki:

Age: 16

The Tsundere badboy.

Likes: bread.

Hates: social interactions. Roses (specifically white ones. This came as a surprise since he’s always in the rose garden.)

Due to a… LOT of emotions bottling up since he was a kid, he has a tendency in lashing out and punching inanimate objects in order to process his festering anger.

He’s the only one who had even a small- or even a semblance- of a healthy bond with his mother, but she became mentally unstable and had to be locked up in a tower (Rapunzel?) there would be times where she would have ‘episodes’ and only he was able to handle them. This warped his gentle nature into a more protective self, and as time went on, into a festering wrath. This only worsened after she pleaded for him to kill her. Hence the knife that he is often seen holding. One that is able to kill vampires.

He gets irritated easily. He doesn’t have any hobbies. He spends most of his time either looking at the rose garden or hermit it up in his coffin (he sometimes adds things to make it feel more comfortable.) He’d much rather stay in a coffin than attend anything. 

Notes: his mother used to sing him to sleep when he was a child. (absolutely adorable) He was the only vampire to give Yui a chance of escaping, even giving her his silver knife to defend herself. Maybe even kill him if needed. 

Headcanons: He doesn’t have taste. He likes bread okay because of the texture, but his tongue can’t even recognize sour things. This might be caused by his mother having poisoned him at some point and had a lasting effect? But highly unlikely because of vampire regeneration properties.

Yet another left handed boi.

 Kou Mukami

Age:17

The Two-Faced model

Likes: cats. Dancing.

Hates: pain.

This pretty boy has had... quite an unfortunate life. Thanks to the horrible events that took place in his childhood, Kou views the world as a ‘give and take’ view. And it will be quite a while before anyone can change that world view. Because of this, he will often portray a friendly, cheerful, and complimentary personality. But he will always expect something in return for his behavior and ‘gifts’. If he gives a bouquets of roses, he expects something to make up for it in return. 

He has a job as a model and is often surrounded by girls at the night school he attends regularly. Which he doesn’t particularly care for. (He is literally the only one in the family with a job.)

Major Trigger warning here: He was raped as a child. Don’t tell me he wasn’t, what the crap did those people DO to him? They hurt him even when he gouged out his own eye in a desperate attempt to make himself flawed so they would leave him alone. But that didn’t work and somehow they saw that as making him more desirable? He has nightmares often because of this and will cling to whatever is around him in an attempt to hide from the horror of reaching hands. He often clings tot he things around him every night because of these reoccurring night terrors. He was given a glass eye that allows him to see people’s true intentions.

Headcanons: He has an immaculate hunger and can- and WILL- eat more than his fair share if those around him aren’t careful. Guard your food while he’s around!

Notes: another left handed boy.

 Azusa Mukami:

Age: 17

The ONLY option for a Masochistic boy.

Likes: collecting knives is his hobby

Dislikes: neglect and being hated.

As a child, he wandered the street with no real purpose. Thanks to a group of children who thrived in beating him, he believed that his only self worth was to be used for pain. Hence he has grown a fascination of it. Whether it is to give or receive pain, Azusa is there for it. He’s slow in movement as well as talking. Often seen spacing out. But is probably the only sweet-heart of a vampire in the entire show. If a little pushy at times. 

He names his limbs after the children who had injured them enough to leave scars, since they were killed and he was left without a purpose once again. This was before he was sent to a orphanage and met Ruki, Yuma, and Kou who became his family.

Notes: his hobby is collecting knives. (Yet another left handed boy.) He is ‘weak against heat’ (I imagine he melts into sleep like a cat when finding this out) he is able to fall asleep standing up. (that’s pretty impressive)

Headcanons:  He’s a very respectable boy and often speaks mostly in respect. Albeit a little pushy at times. His brothers often worry about him and have to make sure that he eats enough at their breakfast, Lunch, and dinner, since he doesn’t do a good job in taking care of himself.

[thoughtfullyyoungduck]

I’m gonna love you like I’ve never been hurt before.

summary: Could I request one where Richie plans an elaborate proposal for Eddie at their house with everyone invited and when he does, Eddie gets overwhelmed by the attention on him and runs upstairs to their bathroom with Richie apologizing before Eddie accepts the proposal?

A/N: I’m so sorry that this took so long I hope it’s worth it! I’m on a camping trip right now so to the two other request I have in my inbox I hope you don’t mind waiting a week, I’ll try work on it in the meanwhile! Let me know what you think. 

tag-list:  @richietoaster​​ , @s-s-georgie​​ , @mikeuris​​ , @gazebobullshit​​ , @that-weird-girls-blog​​ , @tozierking​​ , @s-onora​​ , @bellarosewrites​​ , ​ @ambitiousskychild​​ , @ghostnebula​​​​ , @cupcakeefrosting

‘Fuck, I’m so fucking stupid.’ Eddie complained to his own mirror image, pacing around the small bathroom he had chosen to hide in. He splashed water in his face, hoping to bring down the heating of his inflamed cheeks. The party downstairs had gotten suspiciously quiet after his performance, but he couldn’t fault them for that. 

Hopefully they all retreated back to their homes and leave Eddie and Richie to deal with the shambles of their relationship, if there even was one after this. Eddie wouldn’t be surprised if Richie decided to break things of with him. He could also start living in the bathroom, condemning himself to the life of a hermit so he never had to face the consequences of what he had done.

How does one relationship recuperate from something like this in the first place? Do any couples stay together after one of them rejects a marriage proposal? In all technicality Eddie didn’t reject Richie, but he did run off before giving any sort of response, and that’s as good an answer as any. If Eddie would have brought his phone with him, he would’ve looked up the statics of them surviving this ordeal on the internet, but his phone was abended on the kitchen counter. Fuck, Eddie didn’t want this to ruin everything he and Richie had worked so hard on to build, the one time he was happy and content and he had to go and fuck it up.

This is what he had dreamed of doing to Myra, not so the walking out clueless part, but the saying no. Eddie cursed himself at the alter for letting it get that far, but hadn’t had the galls to say anything about it in front of his mother and Myra’s family. So then why did he do this time?

‘Eddie are you in here?’ Richie asked from the other side of the door, voice uncharacteristically soft and sad, and Eddie mentally prepared for the; ‘it’s not you it’s me’, speech, except this one would go something like this; ‘it is, your fault, I asked you to marry me and you took off and that was an ego breaking and reputation imploding experience, so why don’t we do each other a favor and break it off now.’ The fact that he didn’t bother with Eds anymore installed a deep feeling of longing to hear the words from his boyfriends mouth.

‘Yeah Rich’, Eddie quietly admitted, digging the buts of his palms in his eyes to will the tears away.

‘Can I come in?’

‘Yeah.’

The bathroom tiles needed revamping, they were flaked with spots from Richie colored hair wash he dyed his hair with for a movie, but Eddie never inspected the place to ensure everything was spotless. He should have, because Richie lacks severely in the cleaning deportment. He compensates by being extra talented in cooking and taking Eddie’s mind of things, his workload or the manifestations of the abuse his mother made him endure. Eddie, is a perfectionist, and once he decided to rid himself from any and all influences of his mother, he loathed the little things he would subsequently enucleate, slipping in the way he surveyed Richie doing laundry for example, or the way he demanded a full list of ingredients from the waiter in full detail.

Richie knows precisely how to approach those moods and adjust him back on the right path, reminding him that it’s okay to sometimes mess up, recovery isn’t linear. Eddie didn’t know how to begin his life without Richie anymore.

“Eddie I’m so, so sorry, can you please forgive me?’

Eddie faltered, the words not exactly what he had lurked over and over again his head. ‘I – I’m… what?’

‘I don’t know what I was thinking, I assumed that because we’ve been dating for two years you wouldn’t object… but it was fucking wrong and I’m so extremely sorry. But hey, at least we now know the bachelor isn’t a roll for me huh?’ Richie tried, a smile so faint gracing his features. He was distraught and trying to make up for something that in no way was his fault, a pit in Eddie’s stomach settled and grew.

‘Rich, that’s not on you. It’s on me. I should never have walked away, I just – fuck I can’t think of what to say.’

He dropped to the side of bathtub, laying his head in his hands as he hunched over. Richie hesitated and then shuffled forward a step, slowly as if he was giving Eddie the chance to reject him and to tell him to go away. With a huff, Eddie circled his wrist and tugged him onwards, sliding over to make room at the edge of the bath. Richie took the invitation for what it was, and graced down next to him.

Eddie opened his mouth to say something, but his mind was empty, backtracking on the whole day and wishing he had a way of changing the past so he could say yes.

‘This is just like that one time in college where I spend the night at someone’s dorm, and his roommate took someone home too and the two of us hid in the bathroom the next morning waiting for them to leave so we could sneak out without being spotted.’

‘Really asshole? You’re talking about a previous fucking hookup after you proposed to me?’

That was the wrong thing to say, Richie dispirited away, head tucked in his shoulders, and legs crossing from the previous position they upheld being splayed out. He shrunk from 6.3 to the size of a middle school child getting scolded by the teacher, and Eddie shrunk right by him.

‘Richie I’m sorry.’

‘What do you have to be sorry Eds -Eddie. You have every right to say no.’

It’s not- I didn’t- I don’t say no,’ Richie raised his eyebrows in disbelief. ‘I’m serious, it was too much is all.’

The proportion of people present, the overuse of balloons in every open space in their house, heart shaped and gigantic, and Eddie kept impinging the damn one in the doorway to the kitchen. The only thing that stopped him from taking a knife and popping it was Richie’s manager, stationed by the it, a murderous look at everyone who tried to make small talk with him. The ring that must have costed thousands of dollars. Yes, Richie may be rich, but that didn’t mean Eddie only wanted extravagant and mind-blowing things, he was not that type of gall as Richie himself would word.

A twinge of panic martyrs Eddie, one of him being in the spotlight with Richie, fans yelling out their names and chasing them to take autographs, or paparazzi hiding in bushes to shoot the glamor shot and earn a quick buck of their backs. Too much attention, like today. Of his mother influencing him to ask Myra on a date and devoting her time and effort into tweaking adjust on Myra to make her a perfect bride for him, and Eddie finally stills whirlwind in his mind, deluding all the panic to a single point.

‘I hated the attention.’ Richie turns to face him. ‘I hate how people stare at me and judge me I can’t stand that from anyone besides our friends. All these people that were here tonight were so much more than just our friends, and I couldn’t stand that. I know it doesn’t make any sense and you’d never do that but I can’t stand the fact I’m basically fucking coerced into saying yes.’

The proposal could be boiled down to be a parody of the proposal Myra waylaid him. Her proposal, she was the one who bend down on one knees after a solid piece of advice from his mother, under scrutiny of all their gibberish speaking coworkers.

She showed up in a dress that Eddie claimed to absolutely have a penchant for, he really only said to like the dress because his mother told him he should, and broke down in weepy tears as she read off a love letter from some book she was reading at the time that didn’t apply to their relationship in the slightest bit. Eddie said yes, steered into it by the forceful stares and the face of his mother scolding him if he came home and told her he said no to Myra’s requested, and grew to hate the marriage because of it. But their relationship shouldn’t be a casualty because of a bad previous experience.

It’s not the same with Richie, but at some level it is. The whole setting was so unlike him he’s stunned Richie chose to do it in such a manor.

‘Shit Eds, that’s not at all what I was trying to do.’

Eddie cupped Richie’s cheek in his hands, stroking the skin underneath his eye, the same patch that always twitches right before Richie tipped over the edge in sleep, and smiles genuinely.

‘I know that Rich. Of fucking course I do, It just brought back bad memories is all. The balloons and the song were a bit much don’t you agree? Plus where the fuck did you find a ring so expensive this late in the game? I’ve been with you every second the last two weeks how did you find time to buy it?’

‘I wanted this to be special and exciting to you, a big romantic gesture to show to the whole world how much I love you, but I guess I failed. Just like I failed to go to the store and buy groceries, did I tell you that yet?’ Richie grimaced, the muscles in his lower face stretching back and a hissing at the same time. His face pulled in an ugly expression. The too bad was left unsaid.

‘Fuck you dude it was your turn to buy them, I texted you five times.’

‘Yeah, but I was busy planning everything, and I expected us to go out to dinner after in celebrations sooo,’ Richie drawled the oo out, ‘tough luck butternut.’

‘Okay and breakfast? Breakfast requires groceries too. I’m going to be hogging the toast we have left, finders keepers losers weepers.’ Eddie divines in the small semblance of normal between them, the push and pull they both live for.

‘Marry me’, Richie asks out of the blue, sliding of the bath and sinking on his knees in front of Eddie. The ring is tucked inside his back pocket, and he trails it out.

‘Are you serious? You still want to marry me after all that?’

‘Eds, I’ve wanted to marry you since I knew what the term marriage entailed, and I’ll want to marry you fifty years from now.’ Richie flushed, biting his lip to not let anything else stupid spill. ‘But don’t feel pressured, If you don’t choose to marry me now, or ever for that matter, that’s okay too. I just hope we can spend the rest of our lives together, as husbands or lovers.’

Richie scratched the top of his hair with the one hand he wasn’t using to hold the up the ring. ‘This the minimalistic proposal you’ve been dreaming off? Just the two of us, a semi normal evening, let erase everything that happened before this point today please, no expensive shit? Well, I guess the ring was expensive, but, it’s not about the money, it’s about the sentiment. It’s my dad’s wedding ring.’

‘Wait, are you for real?’

‘I’m trying to figure out what answer is more likely to get me laid tonight but you’re thinking face is making it hard to tell.’

‘Richie, that was the most coherent and sincere thing you’ve ever said to me, please keep going.’

‘Okay yes, it is. Back in Derry, after you and your mom took off with the sunset, I was missing you and my dad understood somehow. I didn’t explicitly say it, too busy making love jokes about your mom,  but he deducted it. That day my aunt came to harass my mom into modifying her wedding dress, and she conducted a whole storyline about how her fiancé asked her hand in marriage with his mother’s wedding band and that my mother should take an example of that, and I blared off at her. Later, my dad came into my room and promised me that if I ever found you again, he would relinquish his instead of my mothers.’ Richie tapped away on the side of the object, Eddie recognizes the beat of the number they had their first ever dance too, wondering how long Richie contemplated popping the question before doing so.  

‘Richie fuck, I love you so much. I need to profusely show my appreciation to your dad.’

‘Don’t talk about my dad when I’m on one knee Eds, a man’s, I’m the man in question, ego will be hurt. The question still needs answering by the way…’

‘If I say yes will you stop calling me Eds?’

‘… no, never.’

‘Well then yes.’

Eddie flew off the handle, crashing into Richie in a wild flurry of limbs and emotions, their lips dancing in a slow inducting dance, pirouetting him all the way to the bottom of his existent and then twirling him back up to become fully aware of his every part. Richie lead, decelerate and facilitating as he pleased. Eddie hunkered for this exhilaration, the burst of spine tingling pops either riling him up or drowsy with heavy eyes, depending on what he desired.  

‘Yeah?’

‘Yeah.’

Another peck and the two unstuck from the other, Eddie’s hand trailing the muscle of Richie arm to lead it to his hand. Richie beamed, tears glistening in the sunlight, as Richie slid on the ring with a steady hand.

‘I love you’, he whispered like it was supposed to be a secret, and Eddie parroted the sentiment twice as vigor.

‘So, just to make sure, this is not the story we’re telling our future kids when they ask how we got married right?’

‘Absolutely not, If they ever ask, you proposed in an intimate setting and I accepted on the first try.’

‘I abide to that.’

[ddaenggtan]

penguins {m}

this is.....unedited and also kind of a mess bc i haven’t slept in.....too long, but @honiboyyoon kept sending me yoongi posts and also daddy dom yoongi posts specifically so blame her for this absolute fucking FILTH

a/n: DEFINITE SMUT, choking, daddy kink, spanking, choking, belt spanking, choking (there is seriously so much choking its a little ridic), dirty talk, jealous yoongi, 

You legitimately love your boyfriend. Six years together and still, he's perfect. Surprises you with breakfast in bed, buys you little things he sees that he thinks you might like, wakes you up at the ass crack of dawn to drive four hours and take a ferry across the ocean just to go to an aquarium you passingly mentioned you would cut your own leg off to go to. And he's adorable at the aquarium, too, letting you run around with wide eyes and not getting upset when you inevitably lose him in the crowd (even if you did find him glaring at some stingrays because, you quote, "Some of us still remember Steve Irwin, princess. Never forgive, never forget.") He looks utterly ridiculous, and you’re not really sure what about the all-black-with-a-pierced-baseball-cap-and-flannel look gets you hot and bothered, but it does. Maybe you should be ashamed of that, but honestly, Yoongi looks literally edible and you’re not one to question it when your boyfriend looks so good. That doesn’t stop you from teasing him, though - “Seriously, Yoongi, what kind of emo bitch wears that shit in public,” “Clearly I do, princess, now stop running that mouth, didn’t you want to see the seals,” “Fuck, yes, I gotta get a recording so I can play it whenever Seokjin laughs,” - and you’ll never admit how much you like it. 

The rest of the time you're there is a delight. Yoongi grumbles about how you might pull his arm out of its socket with how you're dragging him away, but tightens his grip every time you start to pull your hand away. The entire time you can’t help but look at him, watch the way he moves and the grin when he pets a turtle, how he helps a kid pick out a hermit crab and then sends pictures to Joon of them. It’s not lost on you how his eyes linger, either, completely focused on you as you watch the sharks roll above you and beaming when you see the octopus try to steal extra fish from its handler...the way you maybe, just maybe, shake your ass just a little when you bend over to pet an otter. You stay until the aquarium closes and get dinner at a restaurant close by, and it only gets worse.

Yoongi's always been tactile. Even when the two of you were just friends dancing around each other, he would give you hugs and rub your back and let his thigh press against yours without any second thoughts. It's who he is. You know this, you love this, you find it pretty cute most of the time. There are times, though, when it's not...cute. 

Like when he leaves his hand, hot and heay, on your upper thigh as he drives to the restaurant so you remember every single time he’s fingered you while going somewhere. Or when he opens the door so you can enter first and lets out a low whistle as you pass him, and when you turn to scold him, his eyes quickly dart back up to your face. Or like when he hooks a foot around the leg of your chair and uses muscles you tend to forget he has to pull you closer. You can see the strength in his thighs as it flexes under his jeans and it makes goosebumps break out across your skin. He doesn't move his leg, keeps it right between your own with his ankle pressed against yours, hooked around your chair, and something about the pose makes you shiver. 

"Why aren't you eating, princess?" He asks as he brings a piece of sushi up to his own mouth. You mumble something unintelligible, focused on the way his tongue darts out swipe up a bit of soy sauce before his lips close around the food entirely, pouting as they do. You're torn between the desire to pinch his puffed cheeks and the need to beg him to repeat the action on you. You can feel yourself getting wetter at the very thought; you always get worked up when Yoongi is sweet to you, it's something all your friends tease you for, and today is the exact opposite of an exception. Taking you four hours and a ferry ride away from home just to take your nerd ass to an aquarium because he knows you'd like it? You're ready to get on your knees and show your appreciation, however he wants for as long as he wants it.

Someone calling your name startles you enough that you jump a little. Turning, you grin when you see a friend from college - fuck if you can remember his name right now, Hyunwoo? Hyungsoo? Hongbin? Whatever it was - waving at you. He’s taller than you remember and when you give him a quick hug you find he’s filled out nicely in the years since you’ve last seen him. Whatever-His-Name-Is looks nothing like the dweeb from your study group anymore, and as you chat with him, he’s clearly still just as nice as he was back then. You even introduce him to Yoongi - and find out his name is fucking Sehun, you must be a dumbass - who looks decidedly less content than he did a few minutes ago. You wave Sehun goodbye when a woman appears and drags him off to their table, but even after you sit back down, Yoongi’s not happy about something. 

He’s silent as the grave and you realize at some point during the 5.7 minutes you were talking he’s straightened up and no longer has his legs sprawled about. No, they’re now tucked neatly under his chair, as far on his own side of the table as he can get them. He stabs at a piece of meat, tearing into it much more aggressively than usual, and you narrow your eyes at him. 

"Are you okay?" You ask him eventually, after watching him pick up some onion so roughly that the table shook a little. He doesn't answer, just shrugs, and you frown. His irritation isn't lost on you, you're just not sure what you did to cause it. After six years of being together and almost ten of being friends, you know him pretty well, and as you replay the entire day in your mind, you can't find any of the things that usually push him into a mood. 

He's still irritated when you both leave the restaurant, one hand gripping the wheel tightly while the other violently switches gears. You wait until he parks at the hotel to try again. 

"Yoongi?" You say quietly. "Will you talk to me? I don't know what I did wrong." He huffs and exits the car, and you quickly follow suit. He pulls a suitcase out of the trunk and huffs as he locks the car. He walks quickly through the parking garage, must faster than you're used to, and you rush to keep up. He doesn't say anything as he heads into the lobby, or as he gets the room key, and the silence hangs in the elevator until you can't take it anymore. "Seriously, Yoongi, I don't know why you're mad, I didn't do anything."

He whirls on you with fire in his eyes and it freezes you in place. 

"You think that helps?" He growls, closing the distance between the two of you, and catches your chin between his thumb and forefinger. "You don't even know how you fucked up, princess. You really have no clue?" You shake your head. 

"I really don't," You whisper. He slides a thumb across your bottom lip. Your tongue darts out to wet the skin and he groans almost imperceptibly. The sound makes heat pool between your thighs. He pulls away as the elevator door opens and he strides out. He doesn't wait for you and doesn't slow until he gets to the door with your room number on it. 

After it's closed behind you and you're sure it's locked, you turn back to him. He stands in the middle of the room, back to the bed as he strips his jacket off and tosses it to the couch nearby. You wait patiently as he crosses his arms and then turns to you. 

"Come here," He commands. You comply immediately. "Do you know what you did yet?" You shake your head, pouting up at him in the hope that it would encourage leniency. He tsks and shakes his head. "Strip. You don't deserve these nice clothes, princess." 

You're naked as quick as you can be, clothes strewn about the room in your haste to get them off. He's upset, and you don't know why, but you know better than to make him wait for something when he's like this. You’ve been ready to give it up to him all day, and seeing him in his commanding persona only increases the feeling tenfold. Heat rushes to your core once again and you rub your thighs together in an attempt to alleviate some of it. 

He notices the action immediately, smacking your thigh with his palm. "Look at this," He sighs. "So fucking wet and I haven't even done anything yet. You're such a little slut, always so ready for me." He steps slightly closer, letting his fingers dance along your slit. You don't move and don't make a sound, just let your eyes flutter closed for a brief second. He growls and slaps a hand across your ass. 

"Unless it's not for me. Keep your eyes open, slut. I'm the one here right now." You shiver and look at him. He's still fully dressed, which only makes you wetter. He knows you love it, the power dynamic it creates. "Get on the bed, princess. Face me, on your knees."

You do as he says, the bed plump and soft beneath you as you sit back on your knees. Yoongi looks good like this, even with the fire in his eyes, but you're distracted by his hands. The long fingers, the sheer size of them, the way they drag ever so slightly against the leather of his belt as he slides it out from around his waist. You shudder at all of the things he could do with it, and you don’t miss the way he smirks. 

“I try to do something nice for you,” He says in a too-controlled voice as he steps closer. “Take you somewhere fun, buy you good food after. I even let you sleep on the way here so you’d be rested for our little adventure. And what do I get in return?” He folds the belt over on itself, and you clench around nothing at the sight. You know what’s coming. 

“I’m sorry, thank you, Yoongi, I enjoyed-” You whimper as his belt makes contact with one of your thighs, the sting settling into the skin and turning it pink. 

“What did you call me?” 

“I’m sorry, Daddy, I won’t do it again.” His expression softens for just a moment, long fingers rubbing soothing circles over where he hit. 

“You know I don’t like punishing you, princess,” He purrs, one hand across your throat for a brief moment so he can stroke his thumb along your cheek. “But I was so good to you today, and then you just…” His jaw tightens and your heart flutters at the sight. You should probably be a little apprehensive, but fuck, he’s so hot. “Bend over.”

You follow his instructions, doing your best not to shiver when he runs a hand over your ass. “You have ten seconds to tell me what you did wrong, princess. If you can’t, you’ll be the one counting to ten.” He starts counting down immediately and your mind scrambles. It couldn’t have been when you accidentally left him behind at the jellyfish, because he was still fine at dinner, and even when you threw a handful of rice at him he laughed so that wasn’t it either, but then maybe-

The sound hits your ears before the pain registers, but you manage a muffled, one, because you know better than to do otherwise. His hand comes up again, rubbing the sting away. The next hit lands on the other cheek, and it’s a feat not to flinch or moan when you call out, two. 

It continues, all the way to ten; Yoongi alternates between your cheeks and the backs of your thighs, which is going to make the car ride home an absolute nightmare, but you suppose that’s the point. You’re absolutely dripping by the time you call out a weak ten, your wetness trickling down your inner thigh and your ass and thighs no doubt red and swollen even as he runs his fingers along the skin in soft circles. 

“Good, princess?” Yoongi asks quietly. You don’t trust yourself to speak, but you manage what has to be the most enthusiastic nod anyone’s ever given. He chuckles under his breath and metal clinks as his belt hits the bed beside you. He lifts you up to lean against his chest and wipes away the stray tears you couldn’t keep back. “You did so good, baby. You always take your punishments so well for me. Can you tell me what you did to get punished?”

“No, Daddy, I’m sorry, I don’t know, but I won’t do it again, I promise.” Yoongi ‘hmm’s and nods slightly, looking more disappointed than anything. 

“That’s okay, princess,” He coos as he turns you around and presses his chest against your back. “We’ll fix that. Don’t move, or I’ll have to punish you again, princess, and you know how much I hate that.” You whimper a little but nod as he steps away. You hold yourself up, back straight and unmoving even as the raw belt marks on your ass rub into your calves. You don’t look behind you, you know better, but you can hear the soft tinkling of metal and the quiet whoosh of something being unfurled. 

You’re so curious, so fucking curious about what he’s doing, but you don’t move. If you move, he’s going to spank you again, and while that is such a tempting vision - you, sprawled over his knees this time as his bare palm makes contact with that slap of skin meeting skin as he tells you just how good you are for taking your punishment, fuck, - you mostly just want him inside you, like, right now, because you can basically feel the throbbing heat between your legs and this hotel duvet has to be soaked, and also you’ve been waiting all fucking day. 

The heat of Yoongi’s body returns to the space behind you and he presses a soft kiss to your neck. 

“I’m gonna have to make sure my princess knows that I’m the only one for her, huh?” You whimper slightly, and you can feel his smile against your skin. “You remember your safeword, baby girl?” You nod, but Yoongi just tuts. “Gotta hear you say it, princess, you know the rules.”

“Penguin.”

“And if you can’t say it?”

“Tap you twice on the thigh.”

“Good girl,” Yoongi whispers into your ear. Your entire body shudders, legs nearly giving out, but a pressure against your neck keeps you up long enough for you to regain your balance. It takes you a second to realize what it is; a quick glance to the bed beside you confirms it. Yoongi has his belt wrapped around your neck, and based on the way it tightens around your throat while the remnants hand from the nape of your neck, he’s got it buckled in place. You stifle another moan. 

“Now, princess,” Yoongi purrs, “Who do you belong to?”

“You, always you, Daddy, no one else, ever.” 

“That’s fucking right,” He growls. With one hand on your back, he shoves you down until your face is buried in the blanket, the tail of his belt pulled taut and no doubt wrapped around his hand. He doesn’t even finger you first, just thrusts inside you with one move. A choked moan tears itself out of your throat, muffled by the thick blanket underneath you. “I’m the only fucking one allowed near this pussy, you hear me?” 

Yoongi’s thrusts aren’t forgiving at all; he’s rough and hard, doesn’t give you any time to get used to the stretch of his dick, just shoves in and out like you’re merely a toy to be used. His free hand has a bruising grip on your hip, your fingers are clawed into the duvet, and all you can think about is how fucking perfect it feels. The burn of the stretch, the way your ass and thighs sting with every thrust, the slight pressure against your windpipe that isn’t enough to choke you but reminds you that you’re at his mercy. It’s as close to heaven as you’re ever going to get, it has to be, because it’s absolutely euphoric. 

“Fuck, princess, look at how you take my cock,” Yoongi hisses. His grip tightens on the belt as he pulls, and you’re seeing stars with how utterly fantastic the lack of air is. “Fuck, you always take me so well, you know that? Like you were made for me, just me. Can’t wait to fucking mark you, want everyone to know you’re mine. You gonna be a good girl and let me mark you, princess?”

You nod as best you can, gasping when Yoongi pulls hard on the belt to bring you up against him once more. His pace is unrelenting, hitting every spot inside that he knows you love, teasing your g-spot with each thrust. 

“God, you’re such a fucking slut, you know that?” His voice is strained and you wish you could see, wish you could watch him fall apart as he fucks you, but god, there is nothing like his voice in your ear, raspy and gravelly because he’s focusing so hard on the way he pistons in and out of you like a goddamn jackhammer. “So fucking wet and ready for me all the time, baby girl...you know Daddy loves this pussy better than anything else. You like it when Daddy fucks you like this, princess? Treating you like the whore you are?”

You whimper and give a slight nod, mostly focused on the brief allowances of air he gives you. With another thrust he lets go of the belt, bringing his hand up to wrap tenderly around the base of your throat. You gasp, sucking in all the air you can before he decides you don’t get any more. The pressure that’s been slowly building inside of you threatens to snap, and you barely hold it back. 

“Who’s fucking pussy is this, princess? Who’s little slut are you?”

“Yours,” You gasp. “Yours, Daddy, I’m your little slut.”

“Yeah? Who you thinking about right now? You thinking about Daddy? Or are you thinking about that fucking bastard from the restaurant? You wish it was him fucking you like this?”

“No, never, please, only want you, please, Daddy, please can I cum? Didn’t even remember his name, please, please, I’m so close Daddy, I just-” 

“Do it baby.” He brings his hand up ever so slightly, bracing you against his body, while the hand on your hip darts down to rub circles into your clit. “C’mon, princess, you’re so good for me, go ahead, cream on Daddy’s cock. Wanna feel you around me.” It takes seconds, the combination of him thrusting so deep inside that you can feel it on your fucking cervix with the way he rubs your clit, along with the words he’s growling into your ear, it’s god damn magic, and you’re spasming around him in seconds, vision going white as your body goes limp. 

When you come to, you’re on your back on the bed, Yoongi between your legs and thrusting desperately into you. You whimper a little, the oversensitivity is always strong right after you cum. He shushes you softly, one hand moving to stroke your hair gently. 

“That’s it baby, you take me so well. Fuck, just love watching my cock disappear inside you, could watch that forever. God damn, princess, you are so good, such a good girl, you know that? Can’t wait to marry you, gonna fuck you like this forever, make sure every-fucking-body knows you’re mine.” Your breath catches in your throat, even in your fucked-out haze you know what he just said, but what-

“Fuck, that’s it, take it, princess, take my cum,” Yoongi’s panting on top of you as he comes, thick ropes coating your walls. You’re both breathless as he carefully removes the belt from around your neck, gentle and soft, before he collapses beside you with a huff. 

“Yoongi?” You say after a minute, still mostly breathless. He makes a small noise of acknowledgement, enough that you know he isn’t asleep yet. “Did you just...did you just propose to me in the middle of jealousy sex?”

“What? No, I didn’t-” He stops. “Fuck.”

[origami10]

I’ve been thinking more about my adogan story again recently... I just regained access to files that were on my old computer, and apart from absolutely REEKING of the year 2008, I still think this story is pretty good! I think some of the names are in flux, and this would definitely get edited if I ever incorporated it into a larger story, but this is still a pretty good introduction to one of the characters, Flem. 

More under the cut!

All around me I see nothing but walls. Barely anything I do is because of my own choice. Closing in around me, these walls show no hope of escape. Deep down in my heart, though, I know that someday I will find my own path.

“What’s the news for today?”  I hear my mother say as I walk in the door. A bit weary from another long day at school, I call to her from the entry hall. “Well, I got an A on my astronomy test, and I did my classical literature presentation today, so I should have a grade on that by the end of the week.  And I have Ultimate practice tonight for our competition this weekend.  Oh, and there’s a geography bee at school next week that I’m going to participate in.”  As I walk into the dining room, I see my mother rolling out pastry dough on the side table.  She likes to work there because of the big window on the far side of the room.   “Good work!” she says approvingly.  “Keep up those good grades.  You know your father and I expect you to attend the university in Ellayne once you’re done with school.” I begin to escape towards my room when she says, “Flem, dear, I need you to clean up your room right away, at least enough that I can close the door.  The Prizerns are coming over for dinner in an hour.  I want to show them around the house, so I need the upstairs to look nice for them!” I grumble inwardly.  Couldn’t she just leave my room alone?  I know it’s messy, but it’s the only thing left that I feel like I have control over. So my room is a mess, what’s new.  My walls, too – what color are they, exactly?  Plaid?  It’s hard to tell under all the stuff I’ve stuck to them.  And the doors, too, are covered with stuff.  It’s hard to tell exactly where, or even if, there are doors to this room, once I move the stuff out of the way so I can close them.  Hey! - It’s just like a loony bin.  Wonderful.   I should probably take some of that stuff down.  It’s not that I like to save things, really, I’m just too lazy to sort through all the stuff covering the walls.  How many years now has it been up?  Especially that magazine article about frogs.  That’s from research I did for my diorama, what, ten years ago now!  Wow, ten years ago… maybe I should clean my room. Hmm.  At least you can still see the windows.  Why aren’t they covered like the rest of my room?  Oh right, because I’m a vampire and I jump out the window every night to search for my PREY!  … Just kidding!  Though, hmm… that gives me an idea. Is there rope in my room?  But how would I… Ah! That’s it! Now, is this bookshelf heavy enough?

A few hours after the Prizrens have gone, my doorway clean and my mother having shown off her only son of whom she is so proud, my plan is about to be put into action.  I sit on my bed waiting quietly, but not patiently.  How long can it take one person to finish in the bathroom before bed?  I continue to sit, agitated.  Finally I hear the latch on the bathroom door open, and the sound of my mother’s footsteps crossing the floor and descending the stairs.  Now I have about fifteen minutes to make sure they’re asleep.  I want to make sure they’re not paying attention to this side of the house.   Finally, after fourteen long minutes, I peer out my window (the one that faces the back of the house) and see no sign of attentive life. Good! Now for my escape plan: I have already tied all my spare sheets together and tied one end around my bookshelf, so now I throw the other end out the window (okay, so it’s a cliché).  I only have four extra sheets, so it’s a good thing my house is only two stories tall.  I manage to lower myself out the window without event, though – oww – my arms will be sore in the morning.  I leave the sheets hanging, and they ripple in the nighttime breeze.  The white sheet on the end shows up a lot compared to the other dark blue ones, but I have to leave them, since I’m going to need them to get back in.  Feeling proud of myself for getting this far but knowing I should still be wary, I sneak quietly into the thick bushes running along the inside perimeter of the garden fence.  Then I crawl awkwardly through the conspicuously creaky loose board in the garden fence.  I continue to tiptoe along the outside of the garden fence, just in case one of my parents should happen to be watching my every move… nah, I’m just being paranoid. But still… I take the last few cautious steps into the woods behind my house, then break into a run.   “I’m free!” I say to myself.  In my head, of course.  No sense in waking my parents now. I begin to lope through the forest vegetation with an easy grace.  Nothing can catch me now!  Any potential pursuers would surely be caught up by the thick underbrush, but never would I, Lord of the Woods, King of the Forest, be tripped up by– whoa!! Thud. Uhhhh, my head….

In the blackness I come to consciousness without opening my eyes.  Wait.  Where am I?  This doesn’t feel like my bed!  I start to push myself up to get a better look at my surroundings when I feel a strong hand pushing me down.  Oh no!  With sleep-fuzzed eyes I can’t make out who it is.  What if it’s one of those nomadic creeps who lurk in dark forests, waiting for innocent travelers??  What was I thinking?!   “Lemme up! Lemme up!”  I wail. “Okay, but you’re going to regret it.” I hear muttered. The hand goes away, and I sit up quickly.  Too quickly. “Urghh…” My head feels like it’s being crushed inside a pipe wrench, and I close my eyes again.  Now I remember why I’m lying down in the first place. “Be careful!  Your life is in danger!”  The same voice says. I was right!  This was one of those forest creeps!  Oh no, oh no!  But the voice sounds oddly like a girl.  “What are you going to do to me?” I say, my anxiety obvious in my squeaky voice. “Nothing! I’m not going to do anything!  What are you, crazy?” (Definitely a girl talking).  “Though your life is in danger, sort of.  Aside from your life-jeopardizing stupidity (running through the woods in the middle of the night, what if one of those hermit creeps caught you?), you seem to have a bit of a concussion.”  She lays a cool wet cloth on my forehead.  Water drips down my temples, feeling especially pleasant on this muggy night.  “Just close your eyes and keep them closed.  Don’t move your head, but don’t go to sleep, either.  I have to keep an eye on you for a couple hours and make sure there’s no brain damage.  How ‘bout you tell me where you were going while we wait?” I’m not sure what to make of the prospect of staying here for a while, but my head does hurt tremendously, and it seems safe enough.  She said she isn’t going to do anything to me, so I might as well answer her question.  “I wasn’t really going anywhere.  I was just leaving, I guess.  I get so sick of my parents’ attitude, how they use me and my achievements to move up the social ladder.  This is my first try at an escape.” “Sounds plausible.  Want to know where you were really going?” She says, amused. How would you know if I don’t even know?  “Okay,” I say uncertainly. “Right here!  This is where you were coming all along.  I wouldn’t have imagined it in this manner, though.  Good thing I keep this place well stocked…. Anyway, my augury stones told me a couple months ago that you and I were meant for each other, so at the beginning of spring, I set up this little tree house to watch you from.” I let that thought sink in for a minute.  “Oh no!  Did you see the–“ “Don’t worry, I didn’t see the underwear dance.  But with my sleep schedule, I don’t have much to do during the night, so I sent up shop, or camp, rather, and built this tree house.  Figured you’d come by at some point.  It’s not like my augury stones to disappoint me.” “So you’ve been watching me every night from early spring until now? “Mm-hmm.  Just me and my trusty telescope.” Even with my eyes still closed, it’s difficult for me to imagine that she’s been watching me all this time.  “Exactly how much do you know about me?” “Well, apart from my personal observations, I have your school yearbook, which I borrowed from a friend, and there’s always town gossip, and my rune stones of course.  So by now I know an awful lot about you, more than you know about yourself, maybe.  You’ve won every academic award your school offers along with many honors for activities outside of school, and your achievements have been recognized city- and nationwide.  In a few years you’re planning to attend the university in Ellayne.  You’re an outstanding Ultimate player, which I’ve heard is a difficult sport to play.  Your room is literally wallpapered in good grades.  You’re pretty cute, if I do say so myself; I’m partial to orange hair.  You have time to do everything, more, and still get enough sleep.  Some say you’re perfect.” I pause.  I can’t tell where to begin downplaying what she just said!  But as I search for objections, my mind draws a blank.  It dawns on me that what she had said was not just gossip, but absolute fact.  Horrified, I say, “But…but…nobody’s perfect!” “Flem, you are the living proof against that statement.  After observing you for several months I’m quite sure of it.  The only discrepancy is tonight when you introduced yourself to that rock down there.  Think about it.  Have you ever seriously injured yourself?” “No.” “Any broken bones or scars?” “No.” “Any grades below an A- ?” I wince inwardly at the thought of the A- I received last year in Introduction to Metaphysics, but that was the worst grade I have ever gotten.  “No.” “I didn’t think so.  Hmmm, we’ll have to look further into your inability to fail later.  But you know, even with all my sources I couldn’t find out everything I wanted to know about you.  Now that we’ve met, do you mind if I ask you some questions?” So far she seems like a trustworthy person, so I barely hesitate before answering her.  “Sure, what do you want to know?” “Okay.  I was confused about this Mayid relation of yours.  Is she your cousin or your great-aunt?” “Actually both.  My cousin Mayid is named after my great-aunt, and she also looks a lot like my great-aunt when she was younger.  But my great-aunt Mayid lives in Meayno, and my cousin lives….”

After a bunch of questions Fennet stops me.  “Hey, Flem, I really enjoyed listening to your stories, but I have to break it to you, it’s almost dawn.  We need to get you home.” I feel temporarily astounded by the time warp.  Then I realize I’ve done it again.  I can talk for hours and hours about something that I know about, which includes myself.  And I just have.   Sitting up, I open my eyes for the first time since I blacked out.  Then, for the eleventy-ninth time that night, I am amazed by the girl who sits before me with dark eyes set in an ivory face, adorned with dark orange and white-blond striped hair.   After a long silence, she says, “By the way, my name is Fennet.  Nice to meet you.”

As I pull the sheet rope up into my room, she says, “When your head gets better, come visit my tree house again.  But leave those sheets tied together; I’ll be coming every night until you recover.  I know you, but you don’t know anything about me.”  She pauses.  “And Flem, you know…” “What?” “We’re meant to be.” As I watch over the fence how she disappears into the darkness of the woods, I marvel at how easily I have found my counterbalance, my companion star, my equal and opposite other half.

[crystaljins]

Keep your distance

Characters: Yoongi x Reader 

Word count: 2.1 K

Synopsis:  8. College!au + 1. Friends-to-lovers + 8. “ wait, wait. say that again. please. ” [drabble game]

Notes: I took a bit of liberty with this one because I have already done both a college au and quote number 19. If you squint you might catch a glimpse of the‘mum’friend!jin though, so hopefully that makes up for whatever the heck this mess is ;)

“Lean back.” You instruct. Yoongi follows obediently, although he grumbles as he does so. That’s just how he is though- you’re sure he could win the lottery and he’s mutter under his breath complaining about having to go and collect the ticket. You’re used to this kind of behaviour from your closest friend- you’d go so far as to say it is relieving to have him well enough to complain. When you’d first gotten the call about his accident your heart had plummeted through your feet and you had prepared yourself for the worst scenario: that you’d never see Yoongi again. But here he is, well enough to grumble that you are pampering him.

“Face masks are step one to a luxurious night.” You explain as you lean in close to tuck his fringe behind a large, velvety headband with a cute bow on the side.

“Why can’t I put it on myself though?” He asks, even as he shuts his eyes in anticipation as you unfold the mask. You glance down at the arm in his cast.

“Can you put it on yourself?” You ask skeptically, rapping on the plaster with your knuckle for emphasis. You do it to make a point- he can’t even wash his own hair. You had had to do it for him earlier, much to his chagrin. He grimaces.

“I could try.” He mutters. He blinks open one eye. “Do you have to lean in so close?”

You frown.

“Why? Does my breath stink?” You ask. And then just to be obnoxious, you lean in extra close and exhale in his face. He groans.

“Get away from me, stinky breath!” He cries playfully, opening both eyes and attempting to scramble away. He’s not very successful with an arm and a leg both in a cast. He’d broken his clavicle, crushed his left femur, and had a nice displaced fracture of both radius and ulna that required surgery to correct. That’s not even starting on the soft tissue injury. He’s just lucky he’s alive.

“Stay still!” You cry, when he winces with pain. It takes all your strength not to tear up then and there because you know Yoongi hates when you cry. You distract yourself by gently smoothing out the wrinkles in his face mask. “You know, it’s ok to have people look after you, Yoongi.” You say softly. You shift away and settle against the couch, pushing your own hair out of your face with a matching head band and tearing open a new face mask packet. You’re too focussed to notice the way he stares at you for a prolonged moment.

“Let’s just watch the movie.” He sighs tiredly. Like he’s sick of talking to you.

You feel like there is a hot coal sitting at the base of your throat. You don’t know how it ended up like this. Yoongi is your closest friend. Normally he grumbles and complains but he plays along with all your stupid requests. He pretends to hate affection but he’ll still let you rest your head on his chest and wrap your arms around him when you’ve had a long day. He hates places with lots of loud places but he’ll still drive you to parties and social gatherings. He hates sweet things but he’ll still share an ice cream with you after you get dinner together. Without him you’re not sure you would have made it this far into your course.

Yet lately he’s been different. Even before the accident, he had pulled away when you’d gone in for a hug, skimped on your movie nights, only texted you back after days had passed. That would have been enough to break you heart if he had simply been your best friend, but you also happen to be madly in love with him. And right when you had thought that perhaps you and your best friend were too distant to even be considered friends anymore, you had gotten the call that he had been in an accident.

Maybe he just needs his space. Yoongi is an introvert in every sense of the word and having you constantly hovering him over must be frustrating. Even more frustrating is probably the fact that he needs you to hover over him thanks to his injuries. He doesn’t have any family apart from an estranged uncle to look after him and he’d had to defer his degree and quit his job after the accident. That would be hard on anyone and then to have the friend he’d clearly been trying to phase out be the one to care for him must be hard.

So you swallow down your hurt and get slowly to your feet.

“Ok,” you say with false brightness. “What do you want to watch? Your pick.” You get down on all fours in front of your laptop, where it’s resting by the TV, hooked up by a cable. You’re about to open Netflix and begin flicking through the selection when Yoongi makes a strange groaning noise. You fly to your feet.

“What’s wrong?” You cry, scrambling over to him. “Are you hurt? Do you need your pain meds?” You demand learning in close to examine his cast. “What do you need?” You ask when he still doesn’t answer.

“What I need,” He explodes suddenly. “Is for you to stop touching me so much! And to put on a proper pair of pyjama pants!”

Silence follows his outburst. You stare uncomprehendingly at your pyjama shorts. They’re cute, if a little old and short. They have bears on them.

A tear lands in your lap, soaking into the face of one of the cartoon bears printed on your shorts.

“Right.” You say, but your traitorous voice cracks. It’s difficult to read Yoongi’s expression beneath the face mask, and you’re avoiding his gaze anyway so you miss the way frustration and regret and panic mix together in his eyes. “I... I thought they were cute.” You say, but your voice is shaky. “They have-“ your voice catches and you inhale deeply. “They have bears on them.”

You’re such an idiot. The way you had been worrying and fretting like a first time mother would be enough to drive anyone crazy, let alone a grumpy hermit like Yoongi. And that’s before even considering the way he had tried to push you away before the accident. You scramble to your feet, attempting to rapidly gather your things so you don’t have to face the burning sting of humiliation and heartbreak mixed together. You’d been so caught up in your own feelings for him that you hadn’t considered what he might be feeling.

“I can call Jin to come over.” You say. You yank off your facemask and crumple it in your fist, exposing the way tears pour down your face. “He’s almost been begging me to let him take care of you instead.”

Yoongi watches you with anguish. He’s so bad at expressing himself. Why can’t he be open with his emotions, like Hoseok or Jin? Instead he’s an emotionally constipated grandpa who apparently can’t even thank the kindest, sweetest, most selfless girl for caring for him so thoroughly. He totally didn’t mean to lash out at you- it’s just that you’re so overwhelming. When you lean in close he feels like there’s an angry mob in his brain shouting for him to close the distance between you. When you touch him he feels like you’ve just pressed an open flame against him. And when you lean forward in those stupid shorts he wants to scream.

This was why he had pushed you away- all he can do is make you miserable. And he had almost succeeded, and almost convinced himself that he would do just fine without you. And then the stupid car crash had happened and his last thought before he lost consciousness had been of you. Of how devastated you were going to be when he died. Of how stupid he had been to push you away instead of holding you close and never letting go like he longed to do. And he’s been given a miraculous second chance and this is how he uses it? No. He can’t use his second chance like this. He has to... he has to tell you how he feels.

“Wait.” He says, right as you’re attempting to squeeze passed him. His uninjured hand shoots out to wrap around you wrist on instinct. “I-“ He says slowly, willing himself to say something, anything.

“It’s ok, Yoongi,” you say softly. “I understand.”

Oh but you don’t. Not even a little bit. If you did you’d probably be scared of the intensity of his feelings.

“You don’t.” He finally says, and his voice cracks.

“Yoongi?” And your tears stop in your confusion because if you didn’t know any better, you’d say he was crying. It’s impossible to tell with the face mask on- although it’s starting to half peel off with the way his expression is twisted like he’s in a little pain. “Are you ok? What don’t I understand?”

“I love you!” He cries, with the same desperation and frustration as his earlier shout. He releases your wrist to grab his facemask and fling it carelessly to the side. And with his expression exposed, you can suddenly see all the frantic emotions written across his face. You almost don’t register what he’s said and then when you do you find yourself blinking uncomprehendingly.

“Wait, wait.” You say slowly. Did you hear right? “Say that again. Please.”

“I love you.” He says, this time less frustrated, but probably more desperate.

For the second time that night, absolute silence reigns. You could probably hear a pin drop. Slowly, you lower yourself so that you are sitting beside Yoongi.

“You... you love me?” You ask, just for clarification one last time.

“Yes!” He grumbles, and the tone is more familiar and closer to what you are used to from him.

“But then...” you say, still struggling to process the whole situation.

“But then why did I push you away?” He asks, and he sounds annoyed. He’s just annoyed at himself though. “Why did I yell at you even though you’ve been nothing but kind and generous and sweet?”

You nod, because your mouth is stubbornly refusing to form coherent sentences.

“Because I’m an idiot.” He sighs. “The biggest idiot to ever walk the planet and because you make me nervous.”

“I make you nervous?” You respond incredulously. He nods, and he just seems so defeated and resigned.

“I just can’t seem to say what I mean around you.” He explains. “You’re my best friend and if I even dropped a hint of how I was feeling I was so scared you’d go running for the hills and I’d lose the best thing that ever happened to me.”

Your cheeks heat.

“I... wouldn’t have run away.” You say shyly. You risk a glance at him out of the corner of your eye. “I wouldn’t never run away from you, not unless you wanted me to.”

Yoongi clears his throat awkwardly and the two of you sit in tense silence for an uncomfortably long moment.

“You look nice in the bear shorts. Especially your butt.” He informs you. The statement has you choking on your own spit.

“Yoongi, what?” You cry.

“And your legs are nice.” He observes. “They look like they’d be really smooth and I want to touch them. Preferably while we are making out.”

He’s on a roll now.

“And when you were washing my hair earlier I wanted us to just shower together. It’s quicker and saves water. Probably. Plus you’d be naked so it’s a win-win.” He adds thoughtfully.

“What are you saying Yoongi?” You cry and you’re sure not even the sun burns as hot as your face currently is. He carefully shifts, as much as he can with all the broken bones he has, so that he’s leaning his cheek against the couch and staring straight at your profile.

“I’m testing you.” He explains. “Can you really handle everything I’m feeling?” He wonders aloud. “Are you sure you don’t want to run away?”

Slowly, you turn your head so that you are meeting his gaze head on. Your eyes are puffy from your earlier tears and your face is shiny from the face mask and you’re wearing gaudy bear pyjamas but you’re beautiful. You’re so beautiful it hurts.

“I don’t.” You whisper.

“Well, you could have said something earlier.” He grumbles. And while a part of you wants to punch him, you’re mostly just relieved.

He wouldn’t be the man you loved if he wasn’t grumbling, after all.

[milomeepit]

Diamond In The Rough: Chapter Six

Roman has always wanted better. Has always believed that there’s a better life, a better world, just out of reach. Just beyond the veil of shitty teachers who don’t care, angry classmates that scream insults and slurs at each other all day, and drug-hazed parents who are more concerned with their next hit than looking after their ten year old son.

When he runs away after a particularly bad night at home and finds a quiet little cafe/bookstore tucked away in a back alley of the city, the sweet couple who run the joint (an odd pair; a quiet, gloomy man with a wry sense of humour and a cynical gleam in his eye, and a bouncy man who smiles like sunshine and laughs like a storybook king) help show him that maybe- just maybe- he really can have the life he always dreamed of.

Masterpost (to be added soon!)

Word Count: 2786

Chapter Warnings: probably terribly translated Spanish and I’m Incredibly Sorry, insanely sappy couple, anxious child continues to be anxious, hygiene issues, food mention

It didn’t take long to finish closing up the cafe, and they were soon on their way home. Virgil was glad he’d already cleared out the backseat of Patton’s old blue sedan for the next lot of groceries, as it gave Roman space to sit without being crowded by bags and boxes of books. Roman, meanwhile, peered out the window curiously as they drove along, watching the trees and buildings lit up by the headlights of the car before they slipped past and disappeared into the darkness of the night.

Patton pulled into their apartment block’s parking lot, and was around to Roman’s door before Virgil could even unbuckle his seatbelt. He chuckled as his husband scooped up the small boy into another quick hug before setting him down and grabbing the box of leftover baked goods from the other seat.

Virgil led Roman across to the front door and upstairs, making sure to keep an eye on him in case he stumbled on the slightly uneven steps. Roman bounded up them effortlessly, though, his backpack bouncing against his shoulders as he scaled the staircase. Patton followed close behind them, carefully balancing the wide, thin box of pastries and biscuits, humming cheerfully.

Virgil... really wished he’d had a camera right then. When he unlocked and opened the front door, stepping back to let Roman enter first, he’d frozen at first. He took a couple of small steps over the threshold, eyes as wide as dinner plates as he looked around the living room.

Aesthetically speaking, it was very much a reflection of everything that they’d put into the cafe. Fairy lights were hung carefully around the edges of the room, and as Virgil reached across to the power point near the door, they flickered on; a warm, soft glow around the cozy space. The couches here did match, but the patches covering old repairs were a variety of colours and patterns- floral and rainbow and zigzag and galaxies peeking between the pale blue.

Roman looked over his shoulder. “This is your house?” He whispered, voice laced with excited disbelief.

“Sure is. Go on,” Virgil urged, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Have a look around, explore the apartment.”

“Mi casa es su casa!” Patton beamed, setting the box on a table near the door. “Come on, Ro, I’ll show you ar-”

“¿Tu hablas español?” Roman interrupted, snapping to look at Patton, mouth hanging open in surprise.

“¡Por supuesto! Mi mamá es cubana,” Patton clapped his hands together, clearly delighted.

Virgil couldn’t follow most of the rapid stream of Spanish that Roman babbled out, but between the adoring expression on his face as he gushed to Patton, and Patton’s sparkling eyes, he could tell that the two were bonding over their shared language. He knew bits and pieces; growing up with Patton, he’d picked up words and phrases- mostly curse words and sappy declarations of love- but it warmed his heart to see Patton so excited as they spoke.

“Patton, hon, should we finish showing Roman around?” Virgil smiled, reaching over to prod him gently in the arm.

“Oh! Oh, of course. Sorry, I guess we got a little distracted,” Patton giggled. “How about you show Ro around, and I’ll sort out some clean clothes for him? I think we still have some spare stuff from when your cousin and her kids stayed over.”

Virgil nodded. “Sure thing. Hey, kid, how’s it sound if I run you a bath and we get you some clean PJs?” He suggested, turning to face Roman again.

Roman paused for a moment, clinging to his worn red jacket, before nodding. “Um... yes, please,” He said softly as he slipped off his backpack and set it down by the front door, toeing off his shoes as he did so.

Virgil tousled his hair again before making his way into the bathroom, Roman trotting along behind him. He sat on the closed lid of the toilet as Virgil started running the bath, his legs swinging back and forth, his small socked feet drumming against the porcelain base.

“You can drop your dirty clothes over there when you hop in,” Virgil gestured towards the half-full launder hamper that hung from a hook on the wall. “Patton or I will wash ‘em and have ‘em back for you in the morning, alright?”

“Thank you,” Roman nodded, his eyes fixed on the basket.

Virgil watched him for a few seconds, as he added a dash of bubble bath liquid, a little thrown off by how still he was. This was the same kid who spent an hour and a half squealing with Patton about princes, right? The same kid who’d snapped right to teasing Virgil back when he’d poked playfully at how much he sang? “Hey, are you okay?” He asked. “You look like a helium balloon someone poked a hole in.”

Roman blinked, turning his head to meet his gaze. “Wh... why helium?”

“Because you’re squeaky, bouncy, and I’ve never seen anything bring you down,” Virgil reached over, tipping up his chin lightly. “What’s on your mind, short stack?”

“Oh. Nothing, I’m okay,” Roman shook his head.

Virgil raised an eyebrow wordlessly.

“No, for real this time!” He insisted, crossing his arms and sticking out his chin. “I just don’t wanna make a mess or anything. Especially since you have a nice house and stuff, I don’t want to ruin it... I guess.” He sagged a little as he spoke, the proud indignance melting into uncertainty.

“Kiddo, trust me, you don’t have to worry about that. We’re hardly super neat freaks, so you can chill. Even if anyone makes a mess- you, me, or Patton- we’ll just work together and tidy up. That’s what me and Pat’ve always done.”

Roman’s face twitched with an emotion Virgil didn’t quite recognize before he nodded again. “... Okay.” He hopped off the toilet, peering at the bathtub. “It’s kinda full, isn’t it gonna spill?”

Virgil gave a start, snapping around to lunge for the tap handles before it overflowed. “Gah-!” He twisted them around quickly to shut off the flow of water. “My bad. Nice save, kid,” He wheezed. “Patton would’ve kicked my butt if I flooded the bathroom again.”

“Again?” Roman’s eyes widened.

“No time for questions, you got a tub of steamy goodness to tend to.” Virgil clapped him lightly on the shoulder. “We’ll be just out in the living room, give a yell if you need anything, okay?”

Roman nodded once more. “Alright. Thanks.”

Virgil left the bathroom, shut the door behind him, then walked over to flop onto the couch. “Goblin prince is in the tub,” He announced as Patton appeared out of their bedroom, a bundle of clothing in his arms.

Patton swatted his shoulder. “Oh, knock it off!” He chided. “You adore him, I know you do.”

“I love nothing and nobody,” Virgil droned, slouching further into the couch cushions. “My heart is as cold as ice, hard as granite, untouched by anything on this mortal plane.”

Patton giggled, then leaned down to kiss his cheek. “Mm-hm. My big, strong, tough, badass man,” He teased.

“I said mortal plane. Angels like you don’t count, babe,” Virgil retorted, pulling Patton into his lap and dotting kisses across his face. He was rewarded with more peals of laughter, and couldn’t help the wide grin that appeared on his own face at the delightful sound.

“Hey, hey, easy!” Patton squeaked, his face flushed red as he giggled, squirming slightly in Virgil’s grip. “I’m gonna get hiccups if I laugh too hard!”

Virgil pulled him close, burying his face in Patton’s soft messy curls. “You’re adorable,” He hummed happily.

“And you’re a cutie pie,” Patton murmured, nuzzling close to his neck. “I love you, so much.”

“Really? How much?” Virgil’s voice took on a teasing lilt as he spoke.

“More than all the stars shine in the sky,” Patton answered immediately.

“Well, I love you more than the soft glow of an almost-full moon,” Virgil responded.

“I love you more than tiny hermit crabs in big, big shells.”

Virgil smiled at the mental image. “I love you more than copper windchimes.”

“I love you more than antique stores full of old tea sets.”

“I love you more than just-bloomed heather swaying in a summer breeze.”

Patton shivered a little, and Virgil laughed. “That’s practically cheating,” He mumbled.

“Does that mean you give up?”

“Never.” Patton shook his head, his curls brushing against Virgil’s face. “I love you more than smooth, pretty calligraphy done with real ink.”

“I love you more than fresh coffee with creamy milk and sugar.”

Patton was quiet for a moment as he thought. “I love you more than...” His eyes lit up. “I love you more than the yellowed pages of an old family recipe book!”

Virgil hissed through his teeth. “Alright, alright, you win this round, jelly bean,” He conceded.

Patton beamed, and his bright-as-sunshine smile sent a happy thrill through Virgil. "Yes!" He squealed happily.

“Um, excuse me?” Virgil twisted around to see Roman peeking out from the hallway, a towel clumsily wrapped around himself. “Um... sorry, but... um... can I have some help washing my hair?” He asked shyly, half-hiding behind the corner of the wall.

“Of course you can, sweetheart!” Patton cooed, bouncing to his feet. He pecked Virgil on the cheek before trotting over and offering a hand to Roman. “Let’s get those lovely locks soft and shiny, hm?”

Roman took his hand and giggled. “Thank you,” He said sweetly as he swung their joined hands.

“¡Eres muy bienvenido!” Patton tousled his slightly damp hair as he led Roman back into the bathroom. “Oooh, bubbles!”

Virgil grinned to himself. Patton sounded almost more excited about the bubbles than Roman seemed to be. It was little things like that that made Patton such a bright person to be around. His warm smile. His adorable, bubbly laugh. His kindness. The way he loved fiercely with all his heart. The way he loved people and pets and clouds and flowers and foods and smells and blankets and life.

While Virgil hated to sound like some cheesy romance movie cliche, Patton took his breath away, and he fell a little more in love with him every day.

“Hooooooon?” Patton called from the bathroom, breaking Virgil from his thoughts.

“Yeeeeaaaah?” Virgil pushed himself to his feet, already heading towards them as he responded. “What’s up?”

“Um... the shampoo bottle’s empty, and the new bottle is up on the top shelf, and...” Patton waved helplessly, stretched up on his tiptoes. His fingers just grazed the bottom of the shelf, a good couple of inches short of reaching the green bottle.

Virgil shook his head fondly. “Yeah, don’t worry, I got it,” He replied. He walked over to where Patton stood, easily grabbed the bottle, and handed it to the shorter man. “That all you guys need?”

Roman popped up from a pile of bubbles, his hair wet and his face flushed from the warmth of the water. “Virgil! Look!” He exclaimed as he scooped up a handful of bubbles, then blew on them, making the foam float around the room like snowflakes.

“Anybody would think you haven’t had a bubble bath before, kiddo,” Virgil leaned over to scoop up a palm full of bubbles and deposit them on top of Roman’s head.

“I haven’t!” Roman responded, practically vibrating as he scooped more bubbles up, squishing them between his hands. “This is so fun! And they’re so light and fluffy and soft! And they smell nice!”

Virgil felt Patton melt, without even looking in his direction. “Well, it’s an honour to be part of your first ever bubble bath experience, then, bud,” He nodded as he leaned back against the counter.

Roman giggled again. “Virgil es muy agradable, ¿verdad?” He asked Patton.

“El realmente es. Por eso me casé con él, después de todo.” Patton replied as he bobbed down next to the bathtub and started to lather up Roman’s hair.

“Hey, I may not know Spanish, but I know my name when I hear it,” Virgil complained, poking Patton gently with his toe. “What are you slandering my name with now?”

“All good things, all good things!” Patton assured him, then sent Roman a very obvious conspiratorial wink.

Virgil rolled his eyes. “Sure, sure. That’s what you said when you ripped Chloe Casiano to shreds in sophomore year.”

“She started it,” Patton shook his head as he scrubbed shampoo into Roman’s hair. He wrinkled his nose as his hands came away grey. “Gosh, Ro, hon, has it been a while since your hair’s been washed?”

“Um... I haven’t been able to have a proper shower in a while,” Roman answered, shrinking in on himself a little. “And Mom and Dad don’t really help me wash my hair, and I don’t like doing it because I always get soap in my eyes, and it stings a lot, and, um... yeah.”

“Aw, that’s okay, sweetheart, it’s not your fault!” Patton hummed. “Me and Virge will help you, and we can help you learn how to do it and not get it in your eyes. Sound good?”

“Mm-hm!”

“Perfect! Now, just tip your head back for me, sweetpea, and I’ll rinse your hair a bit and we’ll see how it looks, hm?”

Roman leaned his head back, and Patton scooped up water in the plastic cup that sat by the tap, then gently tipped it over his hair to rinse away some of the soap and grit and dirt. It looked so much lighter after that, and Virgil smiled.

“What, is your hair blonde under all that muck?” He joked, easing himself down to sit on the floor next to Patton.

“Uh-huh!” Roman chirped.

“Wait,” Virgil blinked, taken off guard. “Really?”

Sure enough, as Patton washed, rinsed, and then dried his hair, a poofy mess of curly blonde hair was revealed. Patton squealed as he ran his fingers through it, rambling excitedly. “Dios mío, eres tan lindo! ¡Nunca me hubiera imaginado que tu cabello fuera tan rizado!”

Roman blushed and shook his head stubbornly. “¡No soy lindo!” He argued.

“Muy lindo,” Virgil drawled. “Very, very cute and tiny. The smallest. A total shorty.”

“Pattoooon!” Roman whined, clinging to Patton’s sleeve. “I’m not that short, am I?”

“Well... I’m sure you’ll grow! You’re probably gonna end up taller than me, so!” Patton ruffled his hair lightly.

Roman groaned, sagging against him. “I'm nooooot!" He whined.

Patton giggled and wrapped his arms around him, pressing a kiss into his hair. "Aw, it's not so bad! Being small can be great! You can fit into small spaces, and you don't hit your head on low ceilings, and you can get piggybacks, and... there's a lot of really neat stuff!"

"Yeah, yeah," Roman grumbled half-heartedly, turning in Patton's arms and burying his face against his shirt.

Virgil grinned as he got to his feet and stretched. "Mm... you guys hungry? I think we have some pasta bake in the fridge still," He suggested.

"Sounds perfect, mi alma!" Patton beamed. "I'll go set the table while Ro gets dressed, then we can have some dinner!"

Roman nodded enthusiastically, pulling the towel tighter around himself. "Yes, please!"

Virgil gave them a thumbs up, then slipped out of the room. He made his way into the kitchen, humming to himself as he went. Patton popped in behind him as he slid the dish into the microwave.

“So...” Patton hummed as he fished cutlery out of the drawer under the coffeemaker. “We should probably start looking at where the poor lost little bird came from, huh?”

“Yeah,” Virgil agreed. “From what he said earlier, his parents aren’t exactly the most attentive, but I’m sure they’ve noticed he’s missing.” He twisted a dishcloth in his hands for a few seconds as he thought. Patton waited for him to continue, the soft hum of the microwave bridging the silence between them. “... I’ll start looking on Facebook and stuff in the morning. Maybe there’s one of those search party pages or whatever.”

Patton crossed the kitchen, wrapping his arms around Virgil in a hug. “And what do we do if we can’t find anything?” He asked softly, leaning his head against Virgil’s shoulder.

“I dunno,” Virgil admitted. “But I’m sure we’ll figure something out-”

“Virgiiiiil? I got my hair stuck in a button!” Roman whined from the other room.

“- And everything’ll be fine,” He finished, then pecked Patton on the forehead before heading towards the distressed boy. “Coming, bud! Try not to pull on it unless you want a bald patch!” He chuckled at the alarmed squawk he got in response as he ducked out the kitchen door.

[talltalesandbedtimestories]

A View To A Winchester (Part 2)

Series Page

Summary: Julie’s starting a new life after divorce in a home with a very nice view.

A Dean X OFC story. No idea how long it will be, but I’ve got time on my hands. I got this idea staring out the view of my home office window and thinking how nice it would be to have Dean Winchester to ogle. I’m thinking it will go the fluffy route, with some angst, and maybe some smut down the line. Not sure yet.

Section Word Count:  1,976

Section Warnings: mild language

~~~~~

A tune she’d heard that morning on streaming radio flooded her head during the shower. The humming continued as she dressed into jeans and a comfy, form fitting Henley. It was an attempt at looking semi-presentable, even if she had no one to impress. She twisted her long brown wet hair into a bun and fastened it with a banana clip. A slathering of lotion and sliding into flats was close to her weekday work routine. Maybe I’ll take mom out for a shopping trip.

“Giulia? What you doin’?”

Oh my God. This is truly going to be a reversion to my adolescence. She exited the bedroom and called down the stairwell. “Took a shower. What’s up? You didn’t make dinner already, did you?” The smart watch on her wrist noted it was only a little after two. “I’m going to gain ten pounds this week if you don’t slow down on the cooking, Ma.” Julie traipsed down the steps.

Her mother stood by the landing, both hands on the railing’s edge. She blew air out of her mouth. “You’re too skinny anyway.” Julie noticed that look on her mother’s face. She waited with dread for her next sentence. “I met your neighbor.”

Oh no. A mixture of excitement and fear flooded Julie’s veins. She walked past her mother and glanced out the sliding door. The Impala’s back.

“What neighbor?”

A hand landed on her mother’s hip. She shuffled her not quite five foot frame over to the door and pointed with the other hand. “Dean.” Her italian accent added an “ah” to the end of his name for emphasis. “Nice lookin’ man.”

Julie shrugged. “I wouldn’t know. I haven’t met him yet.”

“That’s what he said. I told him you are a ‘ermit and don’t leave the house much.”

“Ma…”

“It’s true. He laughed and said he’s the same. He’s got a nice smile, Giulia.” Her mother’s eyes lit up.

Might try to snatch him up for herself. She couldn’t help but smile at the effect Dean had on her mother, too. The smile fell at the unease building up inside. “What else did you tell him?”

Her mother shrugged. “Not much.”

God, that means he knows my whole life story.

“Wes was out, too, we were all talking.” Julie opened her mouth to say that wasn’t reassuring, but her mother raised a hand to silence any commentary. “Anyway, he lives by himself in that house.” Hands pointed and dipped, performing gesture acrobatics as she continued. “He said he was going to mow his lawn today. I told him that was good because his yard needed it.” Julie groaned and placed a hand over her face. “I told him you didn’t have anyone to mow your grass and how long it was getting. So, he might come around and take care of it.”

“Ma!” Julie waved both hands, defeated. So, now I’m a pathetic hermit. “I told you I was going to find someone to take care of the landscaping and lawn soon. Why are you begging a neighbor I haven’t even met yet?”

“You’ve got too much going on, having to help me this week along with work. And, if you do hire someone, they’re going to charge an arm and a leg. You’re already paying for the mess at my house that we didn’t cause. And, everything with Steve...” She cursed in Italian. “I didn’t beg anyone. He was nice enough to offer.”

Julie narrowed her eyes and sighed. 

“I’ll cook him a bowl of pasta with some of those meatballs and sauce I made yesterday. That will be a fair trade.” She smiled. “Giulia, he’s really nice looking.”

“Ma…” Julie mumbled.

“He’s your age.” She seemed extremely pleased with herself. The roar of a mower got both their attention. “There. See. He does what he says he’s going to do. Already out there mowing his grass.”

Julie followed her mother’s quick steps to the glass. They both peered out. Dean Winchester steered a lawnmower around the perimeter or his thirty by forty patch of yard.

Her mom’s hand patted her shoulder. “I’ll be in the kitchen. He looks like a man that likes to eat.”

Dean made his way toward the edge of the fence that divided both their yards. She studied his profile, concentrating on the task at hand. The pair of jeans he wore, faded and loose, hung lower on his hips than the pair of well fitting ones she’d seared into her brain. His grey t-shirt made up for it. The fabric was tight. Everywhere. Even riding up a bit to display some skin around his waist. And his biceps. Jesus. The muscles in his arms were threatening to rip the sleeves to shreds like the Incredible Hulk.

His gaze rose up from the mower and shot over in her direction. She cursed and jumped behind the curtain. Smooth. What are you going to do if he does come over and mow your lawn, Ex-Lax? You’ll have to talk to him, thank him. You don’t want to come across as an unappreciative bitch.

The lawnmower engine turned into a gut-twisting countdown. The longer it went on, the sooner the possibility that it would turn off. She paced in the living room, out of view from the glass door. Pots and pans clanged in the kitchen. Anxiety built up and reached a painful crescendo when the engine died down.

“Shit.” She whispered. Her brain worked out the logistics. He’s gonna have to go around the corner and up the street with the damn mower. Then, up the drive. Or, maybe he’ll start in the front? Nah. It’ll be too much trouble. He probably just said it to placate mom. She peeked out the glass to locate him. When she didn’t see him, her heart sped up again. He might be in the shed by his driveway. Looking, she saw the door to the detached shed alongside the Impala was still open. Yeah, he’s probably putting the mower back.

Then, Dean appeared. He rounded the corner of her house, having walked up her driveway and stopped. He looked over to the sliding glass door. She gulped.

“Dammit, Ma.” She whispered. A deep inhale prepared her to go out and introduce herself. She swung the door open and slammed shut behind her harder than intended. Her body tensed at the sound. Smooth. It took every ounce of courage for her to turn in Dean’s general direction. He was twenty feet from her. The air around her felt like it shot up twenty degrees due to the proximity of his body. 

Dean waved from the driveway. “Hiya. Did your mother fill you in on the lawn service scheduled for today?” The deep voice questioned as he eyed her with hesitation. He took a tentative step on the concrete path and strolled closer.

She smiled and dug her hands in her back jean pockets. “I believe you may have been unknowingly duped into manual labor. I’m sorry.”

Dean flashed a smile and Julie broke into little pieces. He waved both dirty hands in the air. Grass stains criss-crossed over the chest of his grey shirt where he’d wiped. He was a sweaty masterpiece. “I’d shake your hand, but…” He shrugged.

“I’m Julie,” she nodded.

He nodded back. “Dean.” He took a few more steps, then stopped an arm’s length in front of her. Jesus. Was he for real? He was even more gorgeous in high definition. Her heart might stop if he got closer. His eyes locked with hers for some seconds, before his gaze did a quick assessment, traveling down her figure and back up. Then, he licked his lips and smiled at full wattage. Beating stopped. “Your mom mentioned she’s staying with you while some stuff gets taken care of at her house. Nice of you.”

Julie shook her head, forcing a language she thought was English spill from her mouth in response. Words escaped that she seemingly had no control over. “No brainer. We’ll drive each other nuts by tomorrow. But, you do what you have to for family.”

“Not everyone would.” He muttered in soft response, still smiling. “Well, I’m going to get started in the front, then shoot up the right side of the yard, and wrap around back.” His finger drew his plot of attack in the air.

“Thank you, I really appreciate it.” The sound of the sliding door behind Julie forced her eyes shut. Please don’t embarrass me anymore than you have, Ma.

“Dean-ah! Thank you so much for this!”

“No problem, Brigida.” Julie grinned at the way he pronounced her mother’s name. “What are neighbors for?” He smiled.

“Do you like pasta and meatballs?”

“I like all things Italian.” He grinned and gave Julie a side glance. She felt another blush racing over what she knew was her already red and inflamed cheeks.

“Good. Giulia will bring some out for you to eat under there when you’re done.” Julie knew her mom was pointing to the covered patio. 

He waved a hand. “That’s not necessary…”

“Yes, it is. You’ll stay and eat something.” Before he could protest again, she added, “It’s the least we could do, right Giulia?”

Julie smiled. “Of course, Ma. Please, Dean, let us occupy even more of your time today.” The sarcastic tone was lost on her mother, as usual.

Dean, however, laughed. “Twist my arm. I’ll have even more reason to finish in a hurry.”

“Good. Giulia, will you help me in the kitchen?”

“Sure, be right there.”

Her mom smiled and left them alone.

Julie shook her head. “I’m so sorry.”

“I enjoy mowing.” He shrugged and stared at her again for a few seconds. “Besides, it’s been forever since I’ve had someone cook for me.”

She smiled. “Well, you’re in for a treat, then. My mom is an amazing cook.”

He clapped his hands together. “Awesome.” He pointed to the driveway. “Gonna get started.” He nodded and disappeared.

Julie exhaled and escaped into the house.

I believe I’ve just been set up by my mother on a date with my hot neighbor.

~~~~~ 

“I raised you better, Giulia.”

“Ma, I get the hospitality gene. It’s just not something you can shake.” Julie grabbed two water bottles from the fridge. “But, the silver tray… really? Where did you even find that?”

Brigida gave her the side eye. “I found it in one of the boxes in the basement you haven’t bothered to unpack yet.”

Julie nodded, peeking out the front bay window by the breakfast nook. The mower’s engine could be heard off to the left of the house. She imagined Dean riding up the ten foot wide patch of lawn and popping around the corner any moment. “The wedding gifts box,” Julie mumbled. “Ten years worth of stuff that never got used during our entire time together. I should have donated it instead of hauling it here.”

“Ah, you’re always throwing things out.” Brigida deposited two pasta bowls atop the tray lined with a placemat. The aroma of tomatoes, basil and garlic overwhelmed the kitchen in the best way possible.

“Donating isn’t throwing out.”

“It is when you don’t even use the stuff first.”

“Ma…”

Her mom’s fingers wrapped over Julie’s wrist. “Giulia, do your mother a favor. Enjoy some time with a nice lookin’ man. I’d like to see you smile again.” Moments passed and Brigida’s eyes shined like glass in the sunlight pouring through the window. Her lids blinked in quick succession.

The request tugged at her heart. “Okay, Ma.” Brigida nodded and dipped a saucepan over the bowls. Three enormous meatballs were ladled in one. “I’m guessing that one’s for Dean?”

“You can have as many as you want. But, you’ll tell me just one like you always do.”

Julie rested her chin on the top of her mom’s head and gave her a side squeeze. “I love you, Ma.”

“Watch the sauce.” She scolded.

Part 3

Series Page

[drkoestersmithrpg]

AUG DONE YAY!!!  I’ll Post Tuesday Probably

“Don’t worry about it kid. Just ignore him.  He’ll get over you and we can all get back to normal.”

War Machine’s advice was not in the least bit helpful for the youngest Avenger on the compound who had become, and rightly so, more than a little alarmed by Mr. Stark’s behavior.

It seemed like ever since the Avengers had encountered real aliens from space, the so-called Guardians of the Galaxy, and learned about various planets, each with their own threats, and the threat of some Over-Alien that was setting out on a mission to massacre half of the universe, well, Tony had gotten weird.  

(Or maybe Tony had always been weird and Peter had never noticed before?)

No, actually, many Avengers had noticed it too.  Tony’s inappropriate humor had always been a feature, not a bug, but recently it had been dialed up to 11.  11? Try 69.   It wasn’t just that he was calling Peter “Underoos” again.  It was more.  Innuendos when people asked for facts.  Dirty jokes when people asked for opinions.  Double-entendres about the must mundane topics, to the point where no one could even ask ‘where are we going for dinner?’  

And all of them, every single one of them, seemed to be of the homosexual variety.

To the point that Peter was beginning to fear that his hero, his idol and his fantasy-mentor (and his real life mentor for years now) was actually a homophobe.

“A homophobe?  THE Tony Stark??  Nah kid, Tony is an unabashed Trisexual.  He’ll try anything….and he never made any bones about it….”

Both of them winced, both of them turned to look even though they knew Tony wasn’t in the room.  You couldn’t say the word ‘bones’ around Tony anymore, or any vaguely sexual word, including the word ‘it.’  That’s how bad it had gotten.

“Wait…..wait……are you saying….Tony is Bi?”  Peter asked, trying to look surprised.  Trying not to look overeager.  Trying not to look like a kid who had actually recently gotten some information and was desperate to confirm it.  Trying not to look like he had cornered Rhodey in an empty conference room just to ask this question.

“No,” said Rhodey.

Peter’s shoulders sagged.

“He’s a hedonist. Don’t worry about it kid.  Just ignore him.  He’ll get over you and we can all get back to normal,” Rhodey said dismissively, walking away, leaving Peter red-faced and gaping.

“Over me?”

“Over me??”

“When was I under him?”

    * * * *

 There were many theories about Tony’s new behavior, but Peter couldn’t find any that agreed with Rhodey….that it had something to do with him.

Fury blamed the Avengers state-of-readiness for over a year that resulted in absolutely nothing, no visit from the Ultimate Badguy bent on destroying half of Earth.  Stress made people cranky, seemed to be his theory, and Tony’s new tourette syndrome was just a symptom of that stress.

Bruce (not a common feature around the compound for the last year but very good for information when he was around) pointed out that Tony didn’t like crowds unless they were cheering for him.  “He doesn’t actually work well with others, he forces himself to work with others, thus all the grants and outsourcing, but it’s a lot of effort.  If he can’t got for 3 minutes without making a dirty joke, maybe he just needs to go back into hiding for a while.  We’re all hermits, after a fashion.”  Peter hoped desperately that wasn’t true (he didn’t WANT Tony to go into hiding) but he certainly took Bruce’s perspective seriously. He knew a lot about Tony.  And a lot about hermits.  

Black Widow would probably have the best explanation for Tony’s odd behavior.  Analyzing human behavior was her job.  But Nat wasn’t talking.

So Peter soldiered on. He was the only Avenger who went to training and attended meetings in full costume, mask on at all times.  The story was it was to protect his secret identity.  The truth was, the mask covered all facial expressions.  Tony’s obscenities, no matter how constant, still took him by surprise.  Under the mask, no one could see him blush.

Because truth be told, so many of those inappropriate jokes seemed to be aimed at him.

Most Avengers seemed to agree that the new Rated R version of Tony Stark corresponded with the visit from the storied Guardians of the Galaxy.

But in Peter’s mind, it also seemed to start the same day he turned 20 years old, and bragged, in Tony’s hearing, that he had celebrated with a special party in Boystown.

He had done it very much on purpose – it had been part of his plan.  

Only the results were not….good.  Almost overnight Tony was x y and z. [every bad guy needed a good fucking, every x ato to they y, every complaint from Peter indicated he needed to get laid.  Tony had always joked about everything, but now the jokes were not only gay-related, they were downright hostile. Peter had never heard the word ‘faggot’ on the Avenger’s compound before (the entire compound, Avengers and military alike, knew Caps’ “Language” rule) and he heard it out of Tony’s mouth that very night.  It was Peter’s birthday dinner in one of the compound’s dining rooms where Tony had asked for a ‘real drink for me, not some faggoty ass waterdawon drink.  We’ll save that for Pete.”  

(That was the day Peter realized his life would be better if he just kept the mask on at all times.)

Finally, after a great deal of soul-searching about his Get Tony Stark Into Bed plan and weather or not he even to be in the same room with that man, he cornered Nat and Rhodey (the two people he considered the best informed) and demanded answers.

“Kid…you’re smart. Don’t  let him rile you up.”  That was Rhodey, who seemed a little hostile himself.  He clearly did not want to be having this conversation.  

“But that’s what I don’t get….why is this about me?”

Rhodey and Nat exchanged a look.

Then Nat looked at him, and seemed to make a decision.

“Parker, you announced you were gay, sexually active and legally of age all in the same sentence.”

Peter wished, for a moment, he still had his mask on.  Apparently he hadn’t been as subtle that night as he had thought.

“So….wait…..are you saying this is him….flirting with …..me?”

Nat shrugged.  “Little girls get their ponytails pulled by boys who have crushes on them every day.  They learned to live with it.”

“No they don’t” Peter countered.  “My friend MJ had her hair pulled by a boy in 3rd grade who said he like liked her and he got sent to counseling.”

Rhodey rolled his eyes and said murmured something about Millennials.

“Gen Z,” Peter pointed out, raising a hand.

“Exactly – Gen X jokes are going to sound wrong to Gen Z ears…..”

“Wrong?  Half of what comes out of his mouth could be considered sexual harassment in 50 states!”

“Parker!”  That was Rhodey again.  “I’ve seen these hyperfixations before.  They go away.  Aren’t you supposed to be intelligent?  Be intelligent.  DON’T fall for him, DON’T let him talk you into bed.  Just wait for it to pass over.”

“Let him….talk me into……”

“Kid, don’t do it.”  That was Nat.  “If Pepper Potts couldn’t tame that mess no one can.”

Nat gave a nod to Rhodey, who took it as a cue to exit, leaving the two of them alone together.

“Look,” she said gently. “No one will tell you to your face, but we’re all looking forward to when you leave for school again.  Tony will tone it down after you leave.  And if you stay away long enough, he’ll just get over you.  

“I can see what you’re thinking, Peter, and you don’t want to do this.  Tony has always been a comedian.  This is just a new routine.  You think if you let him talk you into bed, this will get any easier for you? You’re Gen Z, you talk about your feelings.  Tony just talks in one-liners.  

“It’s hard work dating a comedian, kid.

“It can’t end well.”

  * * * *

Tired of walking around with a mask on daily, and lonely for his friends (who knew the difference between flirting and Hostile Work Environment) Peter took Nat’s advice and left early. Back in New York he spent his weeks before the semester began researching the psychology of humor, and the sociological limitations of being gay in the 80’s.  It was eye-opening.  Also appalling.  

But the psychology of humor was very interesting – Peter read that when a group, any group, laughed together, the individuals would indistinctly glance at the person they felt connected with. The article suggested reading room to ‘learn who is secretly sleeping together’ but in general the article dealt with office culture and social hierarchies.  Still, the tidbit was confusing.  

Every time the group laughed together, Tony always seemed to be glancing at him.

But the longer he spent away from Tony the more the offensive jokes faded in his memory and the more he remembered just how bad his crush on the man had become (and exactly how far he was into his detailed plan to get into Tony’s pants.)  

He wasn’t expecting to actually run into the actual man in New York any time soon, but within a week he did.   The Avenger Parties at Stark Tower seemed to becoming more frequent, it seemed to Peter.  At least this was the 2nd one in 2 months. Peter wondered vaguely if it was a ploy to make him hang with the Avengers with his face showing – he was invited to attended these things in suit as “Mr. Stark’s intern.”  

Walking into the party he felt, very suddenly, unarmed (more specifically, unarmored.)  He had relied so much on his mask to hide his face whenever Tony was inappropriate.

That’s why he silently determined to just avoid Tony altogether.

 Chapter 2

  Tony stiffed at the sight of Peter holding a glass of wine.  It didn’t matter how many times he reminded himself (or Peter) that Peter was now of age.  It still struck him as wrong.

But not as wrong as Bruce’s arm around Peter’s shoulders.

He had already passed them once, talking a mile-a-minute with Bruce and Dr. Cho about the tech behind the cradle.   He couldn’t begrudge Bruce and Peter their shop talk (although the double twinges of jealousy took him by complete surprise.  He and Bruce had been so long ago, it seems.)  

Mostly, he was just irritated that the kid seemed to be avoiding him.

But now – oh this definitely was not right.  

He couldn’t be caught staring, so he made his rounds, taking in furtive glances at the two across the room. He must have been mistaken about the arm, Peter and Bruce and some other tech guys were just talking now, and it looked perfectly normal.

Then he lost sight of them.

Then he caught them again, standing by the window alone.  

They weren’t talking shop, that was certain.  Bruce had his arm on Peter’s back, was leaning over, was speaking directly into his ear.  Acceptable in a crowded room, but they were far away enough from the crowd to make Tony see red.

Especially when Peter grinned, ducked his head, then turned and said something into Bruce’s ear.

What Bruce said next made Peter laugh and cover his face, and that’s when Nat appeared in front of him and said “Don’t be jealous.  

“They’re talking about you.”

She turned her head to ignore his gape.  She pretended to scan the room as she spoke.  “Not that I care, Tony, but if you really want to hook up with a Gen Z you are going to have to clean up your act.  Reinstate Steve’s “language” rule.  Poor kid thinks you’re a homophobe.

“What…..me?”

He respected Nat’s intelligence, so when she looked at him that way, he took it seriously.

“New generation, Tony. They don’t care what you DID 20 years ago, all they care about is what you’re doing now, and what you’re doing now is recycling gay jokes from the 80’s.  He honestly thought you were mad at him.

“Just…go…flirt with him like a normal person.  Take him on date.  He’s into you – he’s quizzed everyone who knows you about your sex life.”

   * * * * *

 Peter left the party grinning from ear to ear.

Even though he never actually spoke to Tony that night.  The man disappeared from his own party, but no one thought that was particularly unusual. Nat, at least, seemed to think that way. She gave him a warning look when he asked after the man, but when she spoke, she was gentle.

“Consider the perils of dating a comedian, Peter.”

“Yeah you told me that.”

“The Millennials way is to exchange facts about emotions.  Comedians just exchange one-liners.”

“I’ll take that under advisement,” Peter said, but he couldn’t help but smile.

He went downstairs to the car Tony had waiting for him, smiling all the way.

He had found out a LOT from Bruce that night, information he needed, information he intended to use.

But that wasn’t the best part.

“Consider the perils of dating a comedian” he said to himself as he raced down the stairwell to the garage.

The litany of inappropriate humor wasn’t an attack or a slight, it was a sign of interest.  He could identify the intent, while simply ignoring the actual language.  He didn’t have to speak Tony’s language, he just had to understand it.

“Consider the perils of dating a comedian” he whispered to himself when Tony’s driver took him home.

“Consider the perils of dating a comedian” he murmured to himself as he lay on his bed in his dormroom that night.

He went to bed with a smile on his face.

Because all he could think was…

………… “I’ve got a chance to date Tony Stark.”

[asrasleftnipple]

Backstory

Muriel x Lyria (oc)

*i don’t use my oc’s name in this but i wrote it w her in mind but! feel free to change the pronouns in your mind and imagine your apprentice in her place!

This is my first time posting a fic lol, shred me if you want, english is my first language so if it’s trash, i so sory

She has rich parents who don’t pay much attention to her but are also disappointed in her lascivious ways

Ended up getting kicked out of school but instead of going home, she began training under a talented herbalist

Learned magic accidentally 

Eventually left town with money, herbs, and a small makeshift medicine kit

Ended up in Vesuvia

Got famous on the way, she became really gifted 

Got invited to the palace when she arrived

Befriended Nadia (who really doesn’t care who fucks who)

Jucio took an interest to her immediately

He pestered her but she wasn’t taking his shit

Still ended up sleeping with him a few nights later (it was terrible)

Meets Asra the day after at a luncheon (at breakfast-time) in the garden

He warns her that Lucenzo isn’t who she thinks he is and tells her about his “Scourge of the South”

She was hella convinced

Asra tells her to get out as soon as possible

Arranges for her to meet a friend at the Rowdy Rave

She goes to the coliseum later that day with Nadia and Lucio

Horrified at the bloodlust

Horrified at Lucio

Horrified at the violence and gore

Slips through the crowd as soon as it’s over

She basically sprints to the Rowdy Raven and shouts breathlessly “Is anyone here a doctor?!”

Everyone just looks at her

Jules pops up all concerned and shit

“I’m a doctor, what’s wrong?! Who’s hurt??”

She’s like oh, do you know Asra?

Chaos ensues

Has to smuggle her ass through to the edge of the forest bc Ucio has guards scouring the city for his wayward “court magician” (she declined the job offer)

She dazzles him with her suave flirting and finesse until she ends up taking a fucking plunge into one of the canals

Ilya only has time to drag her out of the water, pry off a vampire eel and throw her over his shoulder because the guards spotted them and were coming in hot

When they reach the edge of the forest Muriel is waiting for them

She claims she’s fine and that she can stand and promptly eats shit

Falls towards Muriel instead of Julian

Muriel just lets her hit the ground bc he wasn’t expecting that at all

Julian has to stop the bleeding before they can even think about moving on

Muriel parts with Julian and carries her to his hut

She needs to recover for a few days, in that time Muriel discovers that she’s a mega flirt… just not with him. She can’t really talk properly around him…

Asra, and Julian (much to Muriel’s dismay), come through a few times to check on her

She immediately turns it on:

Asra is only a bit flustered at the beginning but starts to take it playfully

Ilya’s life is ruined

He can hardly form a proper sentence, she’s laying it on so thick

Might pass out from high blood pressure

One night, while Muriel’s with the chickens and Inanna, she asks Asra about Muriel’s scars (bc she can hardly look at him without actually making a whole fool of herself, nevermind ask him a personal question)

He pauses, “before I tell you, be patient and gentle with him?”, when she nods he pauses for a long time

Then all he says is “remember when I told you about the Scourge of the South...?”

She goes buckwild (Faust says Rowdy!)

Starts getting hysterical

“H-he did that to him!?!??!?!? That- that fucking monster!!!”

Tries to get up even though she’s still injured, Asra is like “oh shit chill”

“He’s killed so many people!! He’s like a fucking plague!”

Muriel overhears and just assumes she talking about him

Meanwhile, she’s still flipping tables inside calling The Count a variety of Bad Things

All of a sudden goes very still and very calm

“I’m going to kill him”

“N O”

Muriel’s heard enough (or so he thinks) and goes deeper into the forest with Inanna. He’s gone for hours

Meanwhile, she starts sobbing

Asra eventually calms her all the way down with some magic help, tea, and squeezes from Faust

She explains her whole predicament from sex with Lucio to her feelings for Muriel and how she feels like she owes it to Muriel to end The Count

Asra lets her cry on him until she falls asleep and he has to go back to the shop

It’s almost noon the next day and Muriel still isn’t back

She starts to panic “fuck, what if he heard me crying last night and thinks I’m fucking hysterical?”

Is restless as fuck

Finally over it, she puts on some clothes and leaves the hut (like a damned fool)

She calls out to Muriel for what feels like hours

She’s starting to feel dizzy… she hadn’t eaten that day and her wound? That shit hurted (but not as much as her heart!)

Decides to take a nap under a random tree, actually going into shock bc she fucked around and reopened the bite

Inanna smells the blood and leads an unknowing Muriel to her, sniffling at the unconscious magician (stupid head)

“What are you doing out here?!”

She jolts up and squints at him

“Puppy?”

He carries her back to the hut (bc he’s totally soft for her)

“What the hell were you thinking?”

“I just wanted to make sure you were safe”

“... what?”

He takes care of her bloodied clothes and redresses her wound

“... why … would you do something like that?”

“... I- I can’t tell you yet”

Muriel thinks it’s some assassination plot and gets hella closed off and also mad at himself because it was so fucking easy for her to get him right back where she wants him

He closes off immediately and she’s reminded of what Asra told her last night, why he’s a hermit who doesn’t trust anyone but him

Starts sniffling

“... what are you doing?”

Then she just flat out cries with them ghibli tears

“What’s wrong…??!” ol boy Muriel is starting to panic

She can only choke out “I am so sorry” over and over until she can’t speak properly

Muriel is still lost as hell “what do you have to be sorry for?”

She finally looks him in the eye “for sleeping with him! … for what he did to you”

Muriel is shook as fuck

“What he-? You.... you don’t think I’m a monster? That I’m a plague?”

She finally understands his meaning even though her mind is a fog of pain, dizziness, and tears

“Of course I don’t think that! I was talking about- … about Lucio. You’re not disgusted at me…?” she croaks

He shakes head and strokes her head softly as a fresh wave of tears hit her

Muriel sits on his bed with her silently until she falls asleep, curled up in pelts with Inanna

He thinks back to when she said that she would “kill him” and breathes out a short huff of a laugh

She’s so small and so fierce… like… a little bear

He knows she can’t go back to the city because of The Capricorn™️ and he’s already gotten used to having her around and so has Inanna

“Alright, Little Bear, don’t worry anymore”

He lets her feed the chickens all the time and cooks her favorite dish whenever she gets cramps

Eventually lets her braid his hair with flowers

Asra brings them their bread when he visits

Julian stops by a lot less frequently than Asra, but one night has them both try a salty bitters and is #banned

She dances in the rain too much and just grins at an exasperated Muriel when she drips water all over the goddamn floor

She makes Muriel sleep on his bed with her, she won’t take no for an answer

Learns to cook his favorite meal and has Julian smuggle her some black mead as a birthday surprise for Muriel

He actually smiles at her to her face!

One morning she’s trying to wake him up because his arm is heavy and she needs to get up to feed the chickens and he just mumbles “what is it, Little Bear?” and she just drops dead right there

The boys are devastated (kidding)

She just can’t speak properly for hours but Muriel falls back asleep, oblivious

She goes swimming with Inanna on a hot summer afternoon but stays out late so he goes to find her for dinner

She neked

He wasn’t fucking ready

He’s red for the rest of the night and she’s like Muriel: 264; me: 1

Sometimes she sneaks kisses on his shoulders and arms but they’re so light he doesn’t notice

Gets caught once

“That was you??”

Can’t look him in the eye for a week

She was having a one-sided conversation with Inanna and hears a strange sound behind her

It was Muriel. He laughed. Out loud. Surprised everyone including himself

One night she and Muriel get caught in the rain

Strippinggggg

They’re both a mess in the duration of peeling off their soaked clothing

She sits wrapped in a pelt in front of the fire

There’s hella firewood so Muriel has no fucking excuse to leave

Just wraps a pelt around his waist and goes about making tea

Once that’s done, he’s forced to awkwardly sit by her in front of the fire

She’s getting bold now, letting the pelt slip down her shoulders and leaning against him

Poor man almost fucking combusts

Now or never, bitch

She stutters out some dumb confession and Muriel just looks away and smiles softly “I know, Little Bear”

After that, she can’t keep her hands off him

She always at least lightly lacing their fingers when they’re near

And she kisses his face A Lot

It always flusters him without fail

Likes to hug him all the time. She’s like a koala but cuter

Eventually convinces him to take off his collar

Asra comes over for a picnic and immediately senses the difference (cue The Smirk)

She tells him about Muriel’s nickname for her and he just eats it up lmao

Teases Muriel the most

“Can I help plan the wedding? We can invite Nadi!”

Before she feeds the chickens one morning, she goes to peck Muriel on the cheek

She  m is s ed

Muriel was so red haha she just giggled and flitted away

Makes it a mission to see how riled up she can get him

He caved after 2 days when she tugged on his earlobe with her teeth

NSFW later---

I wrote this a couple of weeks ago but the discord said it was cute or whatever so here it is

[nottswitch]

We Don’t Talk Anymore

So, a long while ago I got a request for Cedric about reader being his bff and when he starts dating Cho, he distances himself from reader, and overall angst, and I'm finally introducing a new character I'll be writing for since right now!

Thanks for your request, dear anon, I hope you will enjoy it! This is my first Cedric fic, so please tell me if I messed up his characterization or not. Also, let me know if you'd like to be tagged for him :)

Word count: 1,660

“Cedric! Diggory, you bastard, turn around!”

You waved at the boy until he finally noticed you. Quickly approaching him, you held out your arms, inviting him for your usual greeting hug. Cedric did it as well, patting you on the back, but for some reason he seemed strangely lost and not as joyful as he usually was whenever you met. You didn’t pay too much attention, though — he might have been tired after the whole morning spent on the Quidditch practice.

“How’s it going?” you wondered, proceeding to walk next to him along the path, leading to the castle. “You look hella tired to be honest.”

“A bit tired, yes,” Cedric answered, pulling off a smile which seemed rather fake to you. But you couldn’t blame him, after all, you wouldn’t be able to handle riding a broom for several hours in a row.

“You’re going for it, aren’t you?”

“We need to make it this year!” he said a little louder and you gave him a smile, happy that he came alive again.

“Yeah, yeah, I know, you freak!” you laughed. “You would sacrifice yourself for the sake of Quidditch, wouldn’t you?”

“That’s what captains do, huh?”

“I don’t know, you tell me.”

You both laughed now and Cedric seemed to go back to being that same cheerful lad you knew before, but something seemed off nonetheless. But you decided it was a thing to be discussed inside the castle.

Even though you insisted that he should have some time alone and get to rest, Cedric invited you to stay with him. You tried to object at first, but couldn’t resist his welcoming smile and gave up, stepping inside the room. There you placed yourself on the couch and grabbed a glass of pumpkin juice that magically appeared on the table in front of you — had nothing to do with Hufflepuff Common Room being next to the kitchens, of course.

Several minutes passed in silence while the two of you were enjoying the juice. You could feel, however, that Cedric was definitely way more tense than usual, and you were determined to learn why. Although, as you were about to ask the question, he decided to tell you that himself.

“Y/N, I need to talk to you… Seriously.”

“Wow. After the last time we talked “seriously”, we haven’t spoken for a week. I’m scared.”

But even though you tried to laugh the matter off, you were worried. It’s been a long time since you’d seen Cedric this concerned about something.

“It’s not that, I promise,” he said, heaving a deep breath and leaning back. The couch slightly creaked under his weight.

“Alright, I’m all ears than.”

After gathering his thoughts Cedric blurted out in one breath:

“I’m in love.”

“That’s… news,” you muttered in shock, staring at his confused face with an utterly surprised look in your eyes. “And who’s the one?”

“Cho,” he replied, looking away. You managed to notice the blush on his cheeks when he pronounced her name.

“Chang? Ravenclaw Seeker?” you asked, now shocked even more. Only after Cedric nodded, still staring into the ceiling, you were able to continue: “That’s definitely news.”

“She’s amazing,” he dreamily uttered, but quickly put on a serious expression, having seen your surprise. “What? Is it wrong?”

“No, no, what, wrong? You do you, Mr Lover,” you calmed him. “It’s just that I’m not used to such things coming from you, you know? You’re quite a hermit, no offense.”

“I? A hermit?”

“Yeah, you, a hermit. When was the last time you dated someone, may I wonder?”

“That’s why I’m asking you to help me!” Cedric almost shouted, but under weird looks given to him by a couple of third-years switched to whisper. “I want to ask her out.”

“Great! How am I supposed to help?”

“Well, any ideas… How should I ask? What am I supposed to do? I don’t have a lot of experience, you said it first!”

You laughed at how innocent Cedric sounded.

“Ced, come on! You’re the popular guy, I’m sure as soon as you come anywhere near her she will be like “take me right here right now”.”

“No, she’s not like that...” he said with a familiar dramy smile.

“Ah, of course, how could I forget?”

You rolled your eyes, seeing your best friend being completely, from head to toe, in love. You told him the truth, you weren’t used to seeing him like that at all. But someday it should’ve happened, right? And still, it was unusual.

“Just come up, say hi and ask, if she wants to go to Hogsmeade on Sunday. As simple as that. I’m sure as hell she’ll say yes.”

“That simple?”

Cedric seemed to be extremely surprised, if not in shock.

“That simple,” you reaffirmed your words, smiling, having seen how his face changed emotions in a span of seconds. “And what you though? That you need to jump off the Astronomy Tower?”

“I thought you girls love something fancy...”

“Not all of us, Ced, not all of us. And it was you who said she’s “not like that”.”

“Yeah, maybe you’re right,” he wistfully sighed, biting his lower lip.

“I am. Now go to bed, seductress, you look awfully tired. Even I wouldn’t say yes had I seen you right now.”

“Rude!”

“Keep it, amigo!”

__________

It’s been a whole week since you had properly talked to Cedric. Sure, you saw each other every day, greeted and exchanged your latest news, but it wasn’t the same. You used to have a little tradition: every Saturday evening you came to the Great Lake and chilled there after a long week of classes and homeworks. Now you didn’t have that. Cedric always had an excuse not to go: “Cho and I are going to Hogsmeade, I’m helping Cho with Potions, Cho this, Cho that”... You started to think that you probably shouldn’t have helped him in the first place.

Once Cedric ignored your invitation to Hogsmeade — “I’m afraid Cho won’t like it”, — then declined your advice to ask her, and it was the last drop. During dinner you scribbled several words on a piece of parchment and sent it to fly to Cedric’s table. You attentively watched how he read it, raised his head and hesitantly nodded.

You exited the Great Hall with a satisfied but concerned smile on your face. Tonight you would finally talk to him, properly this time.

__________

“Couldn’t have picked a later hour, could you?”

“Oh, sorry, Mr Prefect. Get me to the headmaster.”

“Jokes aside, Y/N. What’s the matter?”

You scoffed, but your face was sad and it failed to remain unnoticed. Cedric’s expression changed immediately and he was ready to say something else when you started talking.

“So you really don’t see what’s wrong?”

“I… try to, but no… You’re upset though. I did something?”

“Oh Cedric… You did.”

You called him by his full name only when you were angry, and it was enough for him to start worrying even more.

“Tell me then, and I’ll make up for it, I promise.”

“I doubt it’s possible to make up for it… Ah, whatever. Cedric, do you really not understand that we’re hardly friends anymore?”

“What are you talking about? Of course we’re friends.”

Cedric was very obviously confused, and you once again made sure he wasn’t acting out of bad intentions. This fact made it harder to be angry at him, but you still were.

“We’re acquaintances, nothing more. We don’t talk like we used to. We never meet. Where did our evenings at the lake go? Where did our visits to Three Broomsticks go? Where did our early mornings on the quidditch field go?”

Even this short rant left you exhausted and you just helplessly waved your arms at the end. Cedric was clearly speechless. Wrinkles on his brow meant he wasn’t pleased either.

“Where did they go?”

And even when he found what to say, it was senseless.

“I don’t know. Maybe you can tell me?” Not letting him speak, you continued: “Oh wait, I know. Cho took all of them.”

It was a good strike, in the very spot. You could see that now Cedric was way less clueless.

“Cho? Merlin, Y/N, she’s my girlfriend! We’re dating, yes, but it doesn’t mean you’re any less of a best friend to me.”

“Actions speaks louder than words, Cedric, and yours aren’t that polite.”

“I mean, of course I spend time with her, but I’d spent it with you with same pleasure, honestly...”

“...Or you’re just too afraid to admit that we’re not best friends anymore.”

Cedric didn’t reply. You weren’t oblivious and saw that he understood everything. It was scary to say out loud, but he understood.

“What should I do to fix that?” he finally managed to voice, avoiding your eyes.

“You agree with me then?”

��Yes, I messed up and I keep doing it,” he raised his hands, defeated. “I thought about it now, and yes, I’m a big fool. Can I fix that?”

“Be the same guy I knew. Goof around, trip over flat floor, make my hair a mess, stain my whole face with cream from the breakfast pie. You can even push me into the Great Lake once, I won’t get angry. But only once!” Your faces lit up at one memory you were clearly referring to. “Be Ced, my kinda dorky Hufflepuff friend. Can you arrange that?”

“I think it’s in my power,” Cedric agreed.

He grabbed your cheeks and attempted to make you smile. You did the same and honestly, you looked like two fools. But now you recognised your fool in him.

The next day Cedric and Cho had a date at Hogsmeade. Sitting at the lake, you saw them heading back to the castle. Glad they didn’t notice, you shed a tear, remembering for another time that it was Saturday’s evening.

__________

Tag list: @padfootagain @giggleberts @starless-skyox @furmicl @coffeeismylife28

[fierycosmos]

YGO Laurel: Goodbyes and Hellos

(so it’s not a drabble, but features my YGO oc Laurel writing goodbye letter and some hello letters to people in her life. and a little background: she’s writing to her dad who’s in prison for abusing and kidnapping her, and her mom’s dead but she’s writing a cathartic letter to her anyway, and Adam is a friend she stayed with before moving to Domino City, and Fein is her best friend from childhood she had to say goodbye to when she ran away from home -- SORRY THAT’S A LOT BUT ENJOY) I rip the failed letter to shreds, again. I toss it with the rest of my mistakes into the trash. I lay back into my revolving chair roughly and my hair scatters across my face. I exhale through my nose and I watch as a strand floats lifelessly and then plops back down onto my face. Annoyed, I collapse my elbows onto my desk and rub my face with my shaky hands. Why can’t I write this God-forsaken letter? I’ve been able to write the others, and I even delivered! Even the ones to Seto and Mokuba I placed on their beds. But you, you like to mock me don’t you? I grab another card from my desk and begin to scribble out my thoughts once more. *** Lawrence Turner, Why? No, better question is how? How could you ever think you could get away with this? You won’t be able to hurt anyone in there. Didn’t you realize before this started? Before the drinking and the gambling and the Cuban cigars, that you would get caught? I can’t begin to count the scars on my body from smashed beer bottles to concussions that were never treated. And those bloody turtlenecks. I hate turtlenecks; and yet that’s all I could wear for two years! Don’t ever talk to me again. I hate you. I really hate you. __________________ Seto, I’m sorry. That’s the first thing that comes to mind. I know you won’t accept that. You probably won’t accept it or you will hate the lack of “better language in expressing my sorrow.” I don’t even know if you will read this. I understand though, I really do, but it hurts though to know you may never forgive me. I had my reasons. You still may deny that my choice to lie to you was reasonable, but I had to protect myself; I had to protect you. And Mokuba. Now don’t let that stupid ego of yours get in the way! To my surprise, I started to care for you both; I’ll admit that much. The more involved I got, the more I wanted to tell you my story. My insides were going to explode if I didn’t tell you soon; I guess that’s why I am writing this letter. To put it succinctly, we both have daddy issues. While yours was a pompous asshole with too much money, mine was an abusive alcoholic. Oh, and did I mention he was a wrestler back in the day? That’s why I acted so tough and wanted to work out. I had to be ready if I ever saw him again. That’s also how I got the scar on my left shoulder that you always asked about; it was a broken beer bottle. Happy? And then there’s the mom piece: she died not long after Luka was born. He was two and I was nine. Terminal cancer; there was nothing the doctors could do. That’s when dad’s drinking got out of control, and he got back into the ring. Once that started, there were lots of late nights and lots of brown-stained t-shirts. And so I ran and took little seven-year-old Luka with me. I was smart enough to know I couldn’t take care of another human being at my age, so I left him with Grandma Lacey. She stopped talking to my dad after mom died. And you know Adam. I met him along the way. He actually caught me when I tried stealing some food from his pub. It was a bad time in my life; I was a desperate and dirty fifteen-year-old. He said I reminded him of how he acted when he was my age and took me in. I slowly began telling my life story to him and became a part of his family. But once again I had to leave. Lawrence was getting too close to me and it was heartbreaking to leave them. Then I ran into your brother and my perspective on life changed. You and Michael stopped me from dwelling on my past. Please don’t try and track me down. I need to stay away to keep you and Mokuba from meddling where you don’t belong, and in circumstances you don’t understand. I’m probably not your top priority; I was more of a bother than anything I bet. I’ll find a way to pay you back. For all the clothes, for living in your house, even when I was using up all the hot water. I don’t think I need to go on; you’re probably enjoying it too much. The point is, you’ve done a lot for me over this past year and I feel the need to repay you for your generosity I continue to feel unworthy of. Before I end this poor excuse for a letter, I’d like to make a deal with you. I want you to let people into your life when I’m gone. I know that may sound nearly impossible for you to do, but I believe that it will help you be less of a grump. And don’t deny it – you’re a grump. Get out there, have a party or a fundraiser or a fancy gala or whatever. Get a girlfriend and treat her nicely. Go out to fancy dinners and see movies. Also maybe get a dog, to teach Mokuba some more responsibility. And yes, naked dogs are out of the question: those things are disturbing. So yes, you’ll have to put up with some new fuzzy furniture. And what will my part be in this deal you ask?  Well, if you wish, you’ll never have to see me again. If not, if you do manage to find me (which I still recommend you don’t try to do), I’ll answer any, if not all, of your pestering questions. Deal? Sincerely, Laurel Annalise Turner __________________ Dear Mokuba, You know I love you, right? You’re one of the sweetest human beings I’ve ever met. I had a hard life until I ran into you and you made everything in life seem worth living for. There’s so much I would love to tell you but I can’t get the words out. I don’t think you’ll want to read a novel about my life. I could go on forever in this letter but I’m kind of in a rush. To put it simply, you and Seto became the most important part of my new life. You two made me happy and almost helped me forget about all the hardships and people I had lost in the past, including my mother. She died years ago, but I never got over it. Then I lost my father, but he didn’t die. I lost him as a person I could turn to for help, someone who I could rely on for support. He turned on my brother Luka and me. I had to grow up quickly and become the one people, like my brother, could lean on. I wish you could meet Luka, my baby brother. He’s around your age. Maybe someday you will, if Seth ever lets you see me again. Don’t be mad at Seto, okay? He has every right to be mad at me, and you can’t blame him for being thickheaded. I want you to also be on your best behavior. No harassing your brother! He’s a very busy man and you’re heading off to middle school soon and you’ll need all the free time to STUDY. Don’t forget about me, all right? I’ll swing by some time; it’ll be our little secret. ☺ Love, Laurel __________________ To the Unworthy Human Being, To my Asshole of a Father, Hey douchebag, how’s it feel to rot in jail? That’s right, you’ll have to make due with hanging out with your sorry self and other good for nothing bastards just like you. Hell I don’t even think you deserve to live, and that’s coming from your daughter. You’ve done nothing but shame the Turner name, I’m thinking of changing it. I don’t even know why I started this. Say hi to your loser friends for me. __________________ Fein Wilson 25 Park Ave. Dear Fein, Long time no talk or long time no write. It’s been, what, seven years? Don’t be mad at me, okay? I just want to tell you that I’ll be heading back home soon. I’ve been gone for some time and I feel I should visit and reconnect with my roots, you know? You were the first person that came to mind. I’m sorry I never stayed in touch while I was gone. A lot has happened to me since I left our small little suburban bubble. The world outside is so strangely wonderful and different. I should show you around one of these days. I’d like to see you. Like I said, I have a lot to explain. Hope you appreciate the postcard. It’s funny, when I first saw it I immediately thought of us. Almost identical to the last picture we took together. We should go to the beach again, dig up some hermit crabs and stare at cute lifeguards. It’ll be good to act normal for a change. Again, I’ll explain that to you in person. Miss you, Laurel T. __________________ Adam and Meredith Jameson 21 West 52nd Street Apartment 2A Dear Adam, Surprised? I’m not going to forget about you any time soon. How’s that wonderful wife of yours? Tell Meredith I said hi. Last time I saw her she was a swollen planet. Did you name your newborn after me ☺? I bet the bar’s a mess without my leadership. The bartenders need to get better at their mixers. They were sloppy last time I was there. I would suggest getting rid of that blonde bimbo. But I’m not writing to insult your judgment, because you gave me a chance out of the blue. I just thought I should check in. A lot’s happened since my dad found out where I was. Sorry for the mess on the roof by the way, hope there wasn’t too much blood. I didn’t think he would find me while staying with you. I’m just glad all you saw of him was his mug shot on TV. Thanks for visiting me in the hospital by the way. I was out of the coma a few days after you visited. I never got to thank you for the roses. Meredith’s idea, I’m guessing? You know the more I try to joke about my dad finding me the harder it is for me to write this all down. I still have nightmares of that night on the bar roof every so often. Thankfully I’m not fighting my demons alone, so please don’t lecture me about going about my “recovery” on my own. You don’t need to worry about me anymore; you’re a father now and will have your own child to stress over. I just wanted to let you know that I’m moving past “the incident” (if that’s what I can call it – apocalypse sounds a bit too strong) and that I can’t thank you enough for your support, and for reuniting me with my old and new family. Thank you for everything. I’ll stop by soon. Best, Lor __________________ Hey Dad, People keep trying to stop me from writing this, but someone told me it’s best to get things down on paper to help move on. But one question keeps running through my head: how could I ever forgive you? Yet, somehow I feel like it’s not your fault. Some unknown force took you away from me and switched you for some demonic spirit, maybe to test me? Either way I feel the alone time you’ll have will hopefully be enlightening and help you be happy and accept the decisions you made. Maybe then I can see you again. __________________ Dear Mom, Hi. Hey, mom. How’s heaven? I miss you. So do Luka and grandma, and I know dad does too. I hope you understand why I can’t talk to him (you weren’t there when the harassment began, thankfully). I don’t even think you could have done anything. It would have happened eventually even if you had never left us. Though having you to hug again would be nice. I’m starting to forget some things; maybe it’s the head trauma from being slammed into walls and banging my head on tables. Dad always had a good arm. I buy your favorite perfume every so often, just to remember your smell. I still have the necklace you used to wear. The chain broke a year ago and so I attached it to an old charm bracelet I made in school. It stands out on the cheap rusted metal and I stroke it every so often, thinking how you would touch it when thinking of your father. I’m playing with it right now as I wonder what to write. I know, who ever thought I’d be so cheesy? I wish you could meet my new family. Seth and Michael mean the world to me. They’ve done more for me than I could ever give back to them. You always knew exactly what to say to make everything all right – I wish I had inherited that from you. I can’t seem to tell them exactly what’s on my mind. Seto makes me so flustered and he pisses me off (sorry, mom, I know you never liked rude language). But, I couldn’t picture my life without him now. I wonder if you’d approve. I have to admit he can be quite the charmer. But that’s not the point. You know I’m not very good with romance; it never made sense to me and I don’t think it ever will. I don’t know the secret behind a successful relationship. I remember Fein always talking about her celebrity crush of the week, but that was about it. I could really use your help right about now. Only Mokuba gets to see how I can care for someone. He’s just like Luka; it’s unbelievable. It’s like I got another chance at being a sister. Anyway, I hope you’re having a nice relaxing time up there. I’ll love you always, Laurel __________________ Father, I don’t even know why I started this. People say it’s best to get things off your chest to officially move on. I hate you. I really hate you. I’ll never forgive you. You hurt me, and worse, you threated Luka. How could I ever forgive you for that? Don’t bother writing back. Besides, I’m changing my name legally. You don’t deserve to know my new name. All you need to know is that I’m moving on to bigger and better things, and you’re not invited. L. *** I seal the envelope. Finally. I gently lift it up from the table and brush the seal, trying to calm down slightly. I can feel as though a heavy burden is being lifted off my shoulders. However, I can’t begin to relax or feel better. I grab my bags near the side of my desk, pocket the letter, and slowly head to the door. I look back at the room I called my own for the past year and sadly switch the light off. Once I close the door behind me, I lean against it seeking some sort of comfort. I am going to miss this old house. “Goodbye Seto. Goodbye Mokuba,” I whisper to myself as I try to hold back tears threatening to fall. As I head down the long hallway, I wonder where I will head next.      

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hi - so i hope you liked this, i wrote it for an english creative writing class and i really enjoyed writing it back in the day

let me know your thoughts <3

also since i wrote it for a class, there might be instances where seto’s name appears as “seto” and mokuba’s as “michael” -- i changed them so not everyone would know i was a weeboo lol

[monkeymindscream]

I now want to imagine what it'd be like if the Dark Ones had somehow corrupted Gyrus Krinkle instead of the Alchemist as their Skeleton King... But I can't fathom how disturbing things would be. Though a SK fanboying the Hyper force would be the most terrifying thing ever. Probably ask them where they'd like their bodies to be mounted if he can't brainwash them into his minions (not thinking too hard about the timeline mess. It's all too scary).

I shit you not, from the moment I first got this ask(however long ago that was – my bad,sincerest apologies) this concept’s been stewing in my mind. I already have a ludicrously self-indulgent AUgoing I don’t need this.

ugh here we go again I guess Okay let’s set the scenehere, because for DO!Krinkle to happen, then our canon SK can’t. So let’s say that Captain Shuggazoom, instead of hurryingoff to save the city, stayed with the Alchemist as he went to shut down theNetherworld gate. He had a really skeevy feeling about the whole thing,whatever Al said about the grid being “impenetrable,” so even though his alarmstarted to go off he hung around a few more seconds just to make sure. Thusly,when Mandarin tried to jump up onto the grid, Cap was able to make a smooth-asssave and be like “c’mon little buddy listen to your dad he’s shutting it offnow” and held him back until everything was safely turned off.

(Mandarin sulked for the rest of the day, because being toldwhat to do by anyone other than his dad makes him insufferably cranky.Thankfully for dinner that night they had a noodle dish that happened to be hisfavorite, so his mood perked up considerably. And that’s the anti-climactic endto what would have been a horrible, life-altering evening otherwise.)

Years pass, and things progress pretty much how they did incanon in terms of the monkeys’ training, with a few key differences: Obviously,there was no need to wipe their memories, so even though the monkeys split upto learn their respective trades (Mandarin + Antauri and the Verans, Nova andOffay, etc.) they all still remember each other and would write and videochatand meet back up at their Dad’s for special occasions and stuff. (Also itshould be noted that they became robot monkeys and go off to train at a MUCHmore relaxed pace than in canon. Without demons breathing down their necksthey’re all allowed to move at a healthier pace towards things.) When they allget back to Shuggazoom, they work to help Captain Shuggazoom defend the cityfrom his assorted rogues gallery. TechnicallyCap’s in charge of the whole outfit, but Mandarin secured himself as leader ofthe Monkey Team “conditionally” (hepestered Cap and Al until they caved).

And then along comes Krinkle.

While he’s just as obsessed with the monkeys as he’s everbeen, the difference here is that he ends up coming into the monkey’s lives alittle earlier than he does in canon (Timeline? I FEAR NO TIMELINE). Since themonkeys are – at least – fifty years old by the time of the show, and I’d placeKrinkle anywhere from mid- to late-forties, let’s say he’d start stalking them here during his teens. ThinkSyndrome-from-Incredibles originstory: after pestering Cap to let him be his partner for an unspecified amountof time (and being repeatedly rebuffed; “Kid where the heck are your parents??”),he becomes bitter and disillusioned and decides to take matters into his ownhands. Krinkle’s selling point was that he could be the scientific/mechanicalgenius to Cap’s rough-and-tumble fighting style; he either hadn’t gatheredenough info on the monkeys themselves yet to know that the Team already has oneof each of those, or when Cap pointed this out he was like “yeah I know they couldhelp me it’ll be so cool!!” Cap eventually tries to shut the matter down forgood by saying he already has apartner that fills that role for him, and he’s worked with Al for years so hereally didn’t see a point in changing things now.

Baaaad move there.

So now Krinkle’s all indignant, because whatever this“Alchemist” guy can do, he’s positive he can do better. He manages to find outwhere Al lives (which is still out in the middle of nowhere, bless his oldhermit-y heart), and heads down there with the intent of having a gadget build-offor something to prove he’s the better mechanic. He gets there, breaks in, andstarts plodding around the place trying to find the Alchemist so he can makehis dramatic challenge. He gets distracted when he gets to the lab, because nowthat he’s found his competition’s invention stash he wants to have a look toget a feel for what he’s up against (he grudgingly admits that yeah, fine,these inventions are okay, but hecould still do better if only given thechance). There’s one thing whose function he can’t work out, though. It’s abig, ugly looking machine with a big, circular fixture on it. Kind of lookslike it might be a portal, actually… wonder where it leads to?

Y’ALL KNOW WHERE THIS IS HEADED.

The Hyperforce (who’re still located in the city, as percanon) get a really rude awakening in the middle of the night and have to goout to take care of the demons who’ve managed to escape. Since Cap has themonkeys and the Robot helping him out this time, they manage to wrap it up inwithout too much issue. But when they’re done they all panic a little becausethey only know of one place where demons could come from, and they’re scaredsomething happened to the Alchemist. Obviously, they rush over to his house tocheck on their friend/dad.

Back at the ranch, Al heard Krinkle screaming and ran tohelp (he had no idea who this kid was or whyhe was in his lab, but y’know what those are questions for later).Unfortunately, he’d come onto the scene justas demons were starting to crawl out. He really only caught a glimpse of whatwas happening to Krinkle before he was accosted by unholy netherbeings. He’sstill not corrupted, but by the time the Team get to his house to help he’sbeen plenty disfigured. His face doesn’t really even look like a face anymore, justa skull…

(Confession time: this bit is mostly just because I reallylike SK’s first design. Your skull has no reason to be that weird shape ya bigdoofus. Ya absolute dope. Ya feckin weirdo. God I love ya.)

At some point before Cap and the Team got there, Krinkle hadrun off. After assuring his worried family that he’s okay (all thingsconsidered, anyway), Al feels fucking AWFUL. Some poor child will have tosuffer a fate worse than deathbecause of his machine. Everyone tries to convince him it’s not his fault withlittle success. Sprx, though well-meaning, says something to the effect of“Better him than you, Pop,” which inadvertently makes Al feel worse. Mandarin is unapologetically ofthe mind that the little weasel deserved what he got, and it served him rightfor breaking into the lab in the first place. Not surprisingly, this viewdoesn’t exactly help either.

They don’t see or hear from Krinkle after that. They assumethe corruption was too much for him and he died sometime after running fartherinto the Zone of Wasted Years. Al is continually guilt-ridden.

Not too long after, unfortunately, whatever weird thing thatkonked the monkeys out in canon so Chiro could find them and wake them up stillexists here, so they have to go to sleep and Al and Cap are left alone for abit (I… STILL DO NOT FEAR THETIMELINE, BUT THIS MAKES IT A LITTLE BLURRIER).

Things progress kindanormally from this point, i.e. Chiro wakes the monkeys up, gets Power Primatepowers, and is on the Team. Only differences are that Mandarin’s still on theTeam (and still leader, both because Cap’s kinda old now so “conditionally”turned into “officially,” and I’m sorry but destiny or not if you think foreven a second that Mandarin would let some random human kid lead the Team overhim then you clearly don’t know this simian), and Cap and Al are around.Everything’s hunky-dory for maybe a month as everyone settles in to the newsituation, and then you get exactly one guess what happens next.

Some ways that having Krinkle take SK’s place in canon wouldchange things: Firstly, though he’s still obsessed with the Monkey Team andgunning to lead them, it’s ONLY the monkeys he wants now. Now that he’s gotSpecial Dark One Insights on things, he views Captain Shuggazoom as essentiallya pawn in the grand scheme of things (he don’tgot no special destiny) instead of worshipping him along with the monkeys likehe used to. Moreover, while he doesfixate particularly on Chiro like he does in canon, here it’s because he loathes Chiro. Not only because he’skinda against anything with a “Chosen One” label on it now (as per request ofthe Dark Ones), but he’s also supremely, viciouslyjealous of him. Oh, so he just wasn’t goodenough for the Team, is that it?? He was older than Chiro when he asked to be on the Team, and a mechanical genius! What’s this brat got that he didn’t?!

Next, Krinkle wouldn’t use formless as minions. I’ve alwayskind of headcanoned that the reason SK had the powers that he did was actuallymore because he’d been an Alchemist before rather than it solely being a resultof the Dark One’s corruption. They gave his powers an extraordinary boost, nomistake, but it was only because he’d known how to do magic prior that he wasable to do it as SK. Now Krinkle doesn’tknow a singular thing about magic, so while he has some dark powers now (mostly that he doesn’t need to eat or sleepand has the ability to corrupt other things to some extent), he’s nowhere nearas powerful as SK. So yeah none of that creating goopy-legions with the flickof a wrist for him. He’d fashion himself some mechanical mooks instead (formlessstill would exist in this AU, but I can get into that another time).

Can’t decide if the Skeletal Circle – or whatever theKrinkly-version of this would be – would exist here. On the one hand, I’m sureKrinkle would love to have a group ofpeople dedicated to kowtowing to him (if Krinklezoom’s any indicator, anyway,which I personally think it is). On the other hand… well, we just establishedthat Krinkle wouldn’t be as powerful as SK, so would he really be able toinspire enough awe or terror to justify a cult?

Anyway, if Krinklehas a cult to mirror SK’s, and if Valinahappens to be a thing in this AU, her relationship with Krinkle would be verydifferent than her relationship with SK. Again, Krinkle doesn’t have SK’spower, and one of the things Valina seemed most enamored with about SK was his power. Not to mention the factthat his main goal (possibly even more so than releasing the Dark Ones) seemsto be making himself leader of his enemies.She might have started out in his cult because her parents dragged her there,but I’m decently positive that all she’d see when she looked at him would be apathetic, whiny little man unworthy of the powers he was bestowed. So I can seeher either going “fuck this bullshit I’m out”and splitting to become a threat independent from him, or hanging around andstringing him along until she became his Dragon, and then stabbing him in theback once she’d decided he wasn’t useful to her anymore. So still technicallybecoming a threat independent from him, but just manipulating him and leechinghis power while she did it.

I’ve probably talked about this too much now, but I don’teven care. I love this. Hit me up for more on this any time.