#this is based off Funny AU i have Yet to Name... but it is silly so i am posting it without explanation.....

[sleepyblr-heart]

like creation like creator

[amphiptere-art]

Behold! The magnificent! The skilled!

The wonderful Saros Cog!

I don't care if I made him for my own entertainment. It's been a long time since I've even wanted to make another AU. I've been going back to old ones as of recent. But this one's nice and brand new. And it's got my ADHD brain in a chokehold.

Anyways. I've been talking about him off topic. But this is Saros Cog. His name is a bit random, and even his existence. Coming out of the bored scrambling of a pencil. I just had this vague illustration of this steampunk-esque Eclipse staring out with this evil eye.

Except that saros isn't evil. In fact he's quite the opposite. Is the main personality trait is untrusting. Put the more I think about the little guy, The more interesting traits he gets. One of these traits being his crazed personality. I have basically started to embody him as some lonely fool. Again matching that gremlin Moon, with crazed Sun. Untrusting to most people in strangers. Gaming that stereotypical hostile sun and moon. But otherwise he's a rambling, kind fella.

Imagine ADHD person rambling about their favorite topic, and yet gives you the glare if you dare say anything bad about it. I think it's a funny personality. And like many other characters of mine, fills a specific niche of me.

Sure he's a bit crazy because he's been left alone in an abandoned town for a long long time. A bit more crazy than his normal. Basically speaking and shouts and tad more sun physical, and Moon gremlin. His little mouse companion that he made when he was a bit more stable. Is the only one trying to rope him in. Also just keep him sane.

Which by the way. His little mouse buddy needs a name. Apparently his nickname in my brain is wire. And that's just because he's sort of based on ... Dear God I can't remember. Some sort of mouse YN/DCA story. But he specifically has like this wire tail ears for long range communication. Little liar has been sending out signals to anyone nearby to come over. Which often results in a chaotic meeting and said visitor running off fairly quickly.

Maybe I'll open and ask for him... Anyone want that?

Anyways. I love this character. And I love this small story I have made around him. Especially his love life with Roxy. Which will probably also need their own steampunk inspired name. But for now she shall go by bone jaw. Since she looks like this. With her robotic mount being decorated by Saros.

Anyways. I love the small love life I put between these characters. Basically despite saros being an untrusted person. Roxy was basically able to just not care enough. Intruding into a space, but figuring out he's a pretty good mechanic and good guy. Saros became her greatest companion. And over time they grew away silly love even if it wasn't official.

But when the entire community decided to move because resources were getting low. Saros being untrusting and also fairly fragile given that he's broken quite a bit. His smaller body means that his engine. (The box on his back.) Has to be external and really exposed. He was just not willing to take the danger with no promise of safety by the end. Until the two were separated just by that fact. As Roxanne wasn't quite sure if she was dedicated or not. Boy did she regret it when they did find a settlement.

Anyways. I should probably stop rambling. I love this character.

[batmanfruitloops]

MORE ASKS? YOU BET I WILL

number one: are there any general fun facts about anyone you guys would like to share, but haven't yet?

number two: anything you can share on your poison ivy? i love her. woman of all time

and lastly: are there any lesser-known (or less popular) rogues that'll be in the au? anything yall can tell us about em?

(sorry for multiple questions. this au scratches my brain)

So many questions is not a problem at all! I'm glad to have so many to answer,

Along with being a scientist, Viktor used to run an ice cream parlor with Nora and it was like a winter wonderland come to life. With his freezing expertise, it snows inside and their display window has a snowman built weekly to advertise their business.

They sold all kind of ice cream, frozen treats, and hot chocolate. Also, since Nora and Viktor were unable to have children, seeing so many come into their parlor was a way to vicariously live as if they were able to. After Nora's MacGregor's Syndrome reached stage 4, both of them stopped working there personally.

Cleo, or Ratcatcher, is very asthmatic, and so she has a mask to help with that. She also has an optional pair of goggles that I affectionately call "Boggle-goggles" because boggling is the something that rats do when they're happy. It's kind of like their eyes are vibrating.

Our Creeper is based on a Mandrill monkey as that's what he reminded us of when reviewing clips. Very silly animal brain. He drank all the funny chemicals and now his brain makes coo-coo sounds sometimes.

But of course! When Ivy plant pheromones don't work and she feels threatened, she grows thorns over her body and pulse and move like thorny veins.

Ivy has many sentient plants, but her closest is named Gloria. Mostly inspired by Audrey 2 from little shop of horrors, but also the piranha plants from Mario.

Ivy can photosynthesize, I don't know if she normally can, although eating and drinking food as a human normally would works too and is more efficient.

As for less-popular, or less-known rogues, yes! With that post I released earlier, there is quite the cast. This is also a good time to mention that there will sometimes be appearances of mine and Fluffy's favorite Justice League members and later down the line, the Titans too. This won't be often, but they will be here.

If I had to choose one for now though, I'd love to talk about Lynns, a.k.a. Firefly;

Lynns was born with body deformities that makes them look more bug-like, but also they were born intersex. Like most kids born as such, their parents (mainly father) decided that Lynns was specifically a male and named them Garfield. It didn't take Lynns long to decide that that was not how they wanted to be viewed, and pretty adamantly said this to their father to which, after a lot of trying to "convert" Lynns and a lot of back and forth, backed off albeit begrudgingly.

Because of this, Lynns isn't particularly fond of being called Garfield, or restrictive masculine things, although masculinity itself Lynns is not against. As they grew up most of their friends were pretty supportive and understanding, although there are some who view Lynns as just "Fi" and as a female, but they're fine with that. So long as it's not meant to be offensive.

Lynns had regular old prosthetic legs growing up, but as an adult, Lynns made their own legs that were meant to look more bug-like, as they like appearing that way. Lynns was always a pyromaniac and so they became a pyrotechnic for movies as an adult. They weren't badly scarred and burned until someone else accidently made a trick faulty.

Hope this info-dump is entertaining, :3

-Sarsee

[cadmusfly]

I don't really go to any of your fandoms so this is unspecific, but... put two of your blorbos in the most saccharine-sweet flower shop AU possible!

I wish you would write a fic where…

🌻—🌼—🌷—🌼—🌱—🌼—🌷—🌼—🌻

Someone just fucking flower sniped him.

Gascon Weddings, the premier wedding planners and hosts (as staffed by Messieurs Murat, Bessieres and Lannes), had a long term working relationship with the local florist, and shit like this was not supposed to happen. It was the kind of relationship where you didn't need a contract, just a firm hearty handshake and no bureaucratic bullshit.

Yet when Lannes came to pick up the flowers for this week's weddings, Duroc had apologised- too much, in Lannes' opinion, the florist was an utter doormat- and said that everything this week had been bought up by a new business.

Some literal and figurative prodding had revealed the name of that business - Rhine Funerals, some swanky new outfit selling overpriced coffins in polished mahogany and lots of bullshit extras to relieve your guilt of not visiting grandpa more often before he croaked.

Duroc had admitted that the guy from Rhine Funerals - some well dressed fucker called Soult - had tried to pressure him into an exclusive supply contract - and to some extent, Lannes couldn't blame the guy, because Duroc's flowers were fucking magnificent, they must have had steroids or black magic or something in them. But Duroc had refused.

So after getting some less impressive flowers and fending off questions of why the flowers didn't look as great as in the brochures, absolutely nothing has changed madame-

Lannes found himself hanging out in front of Frioul Flowers at the asscrack of dawn, waiting for the flower sniper to show up.

And he did.

If you looked up "resting bitch face" in the dictionary, you would get this guy. Stupid hair that was trying to be a bowl cut but was just too curly, perpetual scowl, fuck, he was even wearing a suit.

Lannes greeted him most politely. "So you're the asshole buying up all of Gerry's flowers and leaving none for the rest of us!"

"It is," began the asshole, presumably Soult, "no crime to purchase works of art as these- I do have the receipts. But I beg your pardon, who are you, exactly?"

And thus began the flowery rivalry between Gascon Weddings and Rhine Funerals.

🌻—🌼—🌷—🌼—🌱—🌼—🌷—🌼—🌻

This didn't quite go in a saccharine direction! I don't usually write shippy modern AUs, my AUs tend to be more genreblending and/or Too Much Worldbuilding And Metaphysics - and my two "blorbos" are very hard to ship together - I did initially consider Lannap, but the idea of Lannes and Soult flower-sniping each other and getting into an extremely stupid rivalry based on that was suddenly very funny to me. This is not particularly shippy, but I guess in the hypothetical fanfic that this is excerpted from, it ramps up to more homoerotic silliness.

Thanks for the ask, @my-deer-friend!

[fanatic-r3d4ct3d]

Your clash lobotomy corp cast list got me intrigued, what's going on between Flint and Graham in your au?

back to lobotomy posting :D the silly two! SO! flint is an abnormality and Graham is an agent worker. Graham isnt fullllyy developed yet on what my thoughts would be for him in this au nor is his design fully done yet, still trying to pick the right ego suit for him n what not. + ill have to promise art of the two in the future. One of the stats in Lobotomy corp actually does affect agent movement speed though! so its fair to say graham probably has that beyond maxed out. the stat being justice! one of the most ANNOYING to train stats. Flint was my first manager i turned into an abnormality on a whim! and then the rest followed, i have art of flint but its old and crusty so. bare with me at the end of the post >_< secondly! i designed flint before even playing the game! so he accidentally in look resembles another abnormality which is funny. Maybe hes an abberation, who knows. (An abberation is basically a clone of another abnormality but the theme/design is changed.) their abnormality name is the fireman :D Unlike my other abnormalitys so far flint isnt exactly super dangerous. most likely TETH or WAW, which is just lower classes of abnormalitys, but hes not exactly super friendly either. their pretty hot headed to agents and often get annoyed easily, easily stressed out, lower leveled agents would be annoyed with them easy....they also tend to well just burn agents to a complete crisp if they fail work with him. Upon their hostile breach they walk the halls without their gasmask and head gear being mostly a walking flame in a firemans suit. Their weapon of choice is a large ax which the blade is basically hot as hell. on a random ball they made graham go work with the fireman and graham is just. being himself and that confused the hell out of the fireman. the company seeing this worked very well continued to send graham to work with the fireman. Flint was mostly awkward the first week of graham working with him and slowly warmed up to him confused on why hes been the only agent working with him. Graham tired of calling him the fireman gave them the nickname Flint. after a few weeks of working with flint graham had a mp3 player fall out of his pocket which ended up in the firemans hands, having never seen anything like it they managed to figure out how it worked and realized they really liked music and started to call graham "the music guy" not knowing his name. Graham agreed and realized flint was opening up to him much much MUCH more then other abnormalities did. Flint also asked graham to keep showing him various human/agent stuff. After some time during one of flints hostile breaches he noticed Graham about to get his ass handed to him by another breaching abnormality and stepped in to save the guy. they weren't too sure why they did but he did. Graham was mostly shocked like this and then instantly realized he had a genuine friendship going on with an abnormality. After a longer while Flint got more attached and realized he truely love graham and had eventually asked him if he would date them. Graham knowing agents should not be with abnormalities in this way 100% disagre- im kidding its graham he said yes instantly and just told flint not to tell anyone. Abnormalities have a precent chance of giving agents gifts after working with them that can give them stat buffs. Flint then gave graham is E.G.O gift. Slowly after this time Flint gained a passive breach where he would actively benefit the facility as well sometimes. some olld pictures of the lad!!, his design isnt 100% final yet but looks some what like this. as stated previously in containment he wears his mask and goggles n head wear. while breaching he does not. oh! also the manaquin in the first image is actually a lil ego suit design for him! abnormalities give off suits and weapons based on them! so the suits that brian and ben were wearing were based on abnormalites!. that one i drew is what i think flints would look like :D, i need to make some for chip n dave soon.

[twothpaste]

I saw this post you made https://www.tumblr.com/twothpaste/748684553658515456?source=share and it reminded me of your Intermission AU fic, Hatchback, where the Chosen 4 are basically on a road trip! IIRC there's a flash forward to the future where Paula is a teacher, and she's called "Mrs. Jones" that would imply she's married. Who's she married to? And what happened with her family after she pursued education, especially considering how her mother was heavily against it? And how are the rest of the Intermission AU cast doing in the future?

Aw jeez, that's a lot of big questions! How 'bout I be a little silly and answer them in reverse order 🤸‍♂️

Future Lucas & Claus do wildlife rehab work together. If I think too hard about them tending gently to sick baby deer & mending birds with busted wings, I get teary-eyed sappy and have to sit down. Kuma refuses to settle into any particular career, genuinely happier hopping between employment and doing odd jobs she calls "freelance work". She marries a lady named Ash - based on a kinda communal headcanon about Kuma dating one of the Tittiboo waitresses - I swear I'll draw her someday. Duster becomes increasingly eccentric over time, a gracelessly aging Z-list rockstar.

Future Ness is a civil engineer, doing his small part to try and make suburbia a less hellish place to live, for his boring little family & everyone else besides. Paula starts her teaching career as a college adjunct, intending to work her way toward tenure, but derails into teaching high school for a while due to some circumstance or other. Though teaching niche college courses was always her dream, she unexpectedly realizes there's a lot of good she can do for high school kids, so she sticks with it much longer than she'd planned. By the time she does eventually get back around to becoming a college professor, she's probably in her 40's or 50's. Jeff designs rockets & satellites for the European Space Agency, while Tony jogs their jack russell terrier 5 miles a day and engages in cartoonishly daring news reporting work. Poo goes on wild anthropological surveys all around the world, and never gets into politics (much to his family's immense displeasure, but they can deal).

Future Porky probably never gets better ❤️. Picky comes out as a trans woman in her mid 20s. Tracy supports her all the way. Flint and Lighter are off having an Old Men With Pickup Trucks Slow Burn Friends To Lovers Redneck Romance in their 60s, but I'll never write it, so you'll have to fill in the blanks yourself.

I have not resolved the Paula's Mom Plotline in my head yet. As much as I'd like for her mom to chill the fuck out and let Paula be Paula, I think the hard lesson of coming to terms with a parent's faults is probably more the direction it's headed in. There's also the mess of like? Her dad supports his daughter despite everything, but he's too spineless to challenge his wife over it, and he's also dealing with some kinda debilitating illness?? The conflict might come to a head during her senior year. I've got a Paula fic idea floating around on my backburner, so I'll probably sort it out sooner than later. Regardless, our gal's gonna set firm boundaries and live her life.

As for "who is Paula married to," there is actually a possible or probable answer. The catch is: absolutely none of y'all are gonna like it ☺️. As some of you may have gathered, my funny Mother College AU is very and truly crossed over with [ my Dana's ] funny Yugioh College AU. The amount of interconnected nonsense going on offscreen would make your head spin, and this happens to be one of our silliest interconnected nonsenses.

There's this kid from Zexal named Dumon, he's canonically a tragic historical figure and a horse enthusiast and also an alien for a while, don't worry about it. Dana's college Dumon is a nerdy little butch lesbian (I mean, [ look at him ]), who - like Paula - also spends about 90% of his time at the campus library. It started as a joke <- fatal last words. They share a love of pretentious literary analysis and medieval history and quiet noontime study sessions spent over expensive lattes. Dumon's still a bit shy of her noisy bunch o' D&D friends, but maybe they'll break the ice one of these days. Paula's mom keeps forgetting his name. Paula keeps having to firmly remind her he's from Utah, not Arkansas. And that yes lesbians can use he/him pronouns, they've been doing it for decades, gosh Mom can you get with the program already.

Anyways, if things keep going the direction they're headed, my Paula might very well be marrying a Yugioh character. Thanks for asking, anon! ^_^

[space-cat-in-a-teacup]

character ask: lucy, poe, and fitzgerald

Oooh Guild characters, don't mind if I do

Lucy first!

First impression

Anne of Green Gables author! I understand this reference!

Impression now

Best girl, she's just trying to live her life post-Guild arc and exist as best she can. I'm so glad she continues to have a presence in the narrative, and I want to see more of her!

Favorite moment

Guild arc, Moby Dick, Atsushi's prison cell. She bears her scars to Atsushi to show exactly why she hates him (and considering all the other members of the Guild, she's probably used to people who don't understand her pain, who have more to their lives than she could ever dream of) only for Atsushi to reveal he has scars just like hers, that they share this pain that no one else does. And when Atsushi asks if the people on the ground deserve to suffer like she did. GOD.

But a close second is the moment where she drags Atsushi out of the cafe to give Kyouka some peace, explaining to Atsushi why he should give her that peace of mind. It's a cute moment, and I like that it shows Lucy has the deeper emotional understanding in this situation versus Atsushi.

Idea for a story

When I finish that one fic where she becomes a detective thanks to Poe moving to Canada it's over for all of you. And maybe a canon-compliant fic exploring her average every day life at the cafe, how she goes about and what she does with her time

Unpopular opinion

I do not see enough Lucy content to know what opinions of mine would be unpopular or not?

Favorite relationship

Atsulucy is my beloved for a reason... I love they. I would like to explore her dynamic with Kyouka more though, I think they're interesting.

Favorite headcanon

I don't have a specific headcanon, but thanks to some old OC named Lucy I do associate her with ladybugs a lot.

Now, Poe!

First impression

FUCK YEAH I LOVE THE CASK OF AMONTILLADO a shame that isn't his ability BUT HELL YEAH I KNOW POE THIS IS GREAT

Impression now

He's a silly goofy guy who's rivalry with Ranpo is really fun, and the continued use of his ability in present BSD storylines is really cool. As a fan of IRL Poe's writing style and stories, he's an absolute treat. Could use more Cask of Amontillado references though.

Favorite moment

His inroduction is iconic... but the moment where he casually reveals how incredibly wealthy he is and gets to be the one who shocks Ranpo instead of the other way around? Oh, oh that is wonderful.

Idea for a story

As I mentioned above with Lucy, the fic where he fucks off to Canada and accidentally brings her into the mystery business is one I treasure dearly, even if I don't know how to write it just yet. I also have an AU version of him that, while he doesn't have a story yet, is quite an intriguing premise.

Unpopular opinion

I don't have a specific one, but I do feel like the fandom tends to soften him a little bit, make him a little bit too shy and anxious.

Favorite relationship

Ranpoe is iconic, but to be fair it is like... the main one we see in canon. If we're talking about dynamics I'd like to explore with him, I think him getting dragged around by Kenji on a shopping trip or something could be fun (based on that one brief scene in the manga where Kenji tried to help him but couldn't understand him) or a scenario with him and Fukuzawa.

Favorite headcanon

He definitely has an ominous wine cellar in that giant mansion of his. You know why? Cause Cask of Amontillado is-

Now we move on to Fitzgerald himself... oh boy.

First impression

THE GREAT GATSBY???

Impression now

This entire character and the storylines surrounding him are such expertly weaved references to the Great Gatsby that while I don't like the character himself a lot, I do have a secondhand appreciation for him because I love that book.

Favorite moment

The moment he shows up in TJ Eckleburg's house and just casually explains how horrific of a death drinking lighter fluid is kinda funny to be honest?

Idea for a story

...Does that one time I had a Pokemon AU where he got eaten by Reshiram count?

Unpopular opinion

I don't see a lot of content about him so I can't say for sure what is and isn't unpopular?

Favorite relationship

Him with the Guild as an entity, not its individual members. Something really fucked up about how he calls them all his property and that's how he cares about them, not really having much care for their individual cares.

Favorite headcanon

The man is bad at fishing. He likes the idea of it vaguely in that 'white American dads fish' kinda way but he cannot actually fish he's bad at it. If you know you know.

[kavalyera]

hiii evren :3 hru??

the weather in wales is shit and i hate it </3 (keeps going from 3 degrees to like 17 ashfaksjfa)

anyways! i was looking through your oc blogs and ajsgfjkasfa i love both Belladonna nad Hearst. so uhh opportunity to talk about them?

idk i dont really have any questions about them but i'd love to hear more about them👀

WAOGHHHH CHANCE TO YAP!!!

Both Bel and Hearst were originally SCP OCs cause I hyperfixated HARD on SCP back then (longest hyperfixation which lasted around maybe 5 years?? I forgor)

Anyways Belladonna (any pronouns) is an assassin who uses poison to kill people with ^_^ she doesn’t like having to use it’s fist to fight or guns because he’d rather have it quick or agonizingly painful based on what their feeling!!!! He’s a nerd when it comes to poison and chemistry and they’re really goth bc i love goth music and i love goths🫶

it’s last name is Belladonna from the toxic plant belladonna atropa (i think that’s the spelling) and the last name is the last name of a serial killer who used poison to kill :)))) she has some tattoos but i havent really drawn them yet</3 but she has a spider tattoo on her upper right back because AUGHHH I LOVE BUG TATTOOSSS (planning to get a centipede or moth one hehehehehe)

here’s his playlist if u want :3

hearst on the other hand is probably my most fav oc he’s been with me the longest!!! he’s basically me pre-transition LMAO introverted + mean + depressed he has a daughter named Adrianne mostly called Ria. i was a really big fan of familial relationships and i still am because they explore a much more complex sort of relationship than just the ordinary romance or friendship yk?? ria is basically the reason hearst is healing from his traumas and stuff because he wants to be better for her he doesn’t want her to have the same childhood as him

his voice claim is ethan winters and hearst is literally based off of the blond male silent horror protagonist hehehehe i’ve put him in several horror game aus and everytime a horror game has an option to have a name i just put his name ‘archer’ for no reason other than because i find it funny seeing him in silly situations

also he’s very much my favorite oc out of maybe the hundreds i’ve created/j and also his motifs are lighthouses and seas because i grew attached to the lighthouse movie with william dafoe and i REALLY loved lighthouses and i still do i think in every fandom i’ve used lighthouses in someway in fanfiction or artwork. i associate hearst with the sea and his daughter’s name means “the sea” and he has an anchor necklace too!! ^_^ & also a shell tattoo because i luv the ocean i yearn for the ocean. he’s associated with lighthouses due to isolation + they’re rad as all hell and if hearst could live as a lighthouse keeper he WOULD!!! unfortunately he is an armsdealer constantly dealing with the tarasov family’s bullshit😔 and he’s associated with the sea/ocean because of the fact it can be cold and unwelcoming but also warm and loving

hearst is literally my most fav oc when i had to write like a rlly long poem for a grade i wrote about him idk if i can translate it into english but yeah i’ll try😭

anyways i hope wales stops with it’s horrible weather because bestie what is HAPPENING😭????? uk things idk😭

[pseudonymphomania]

IM HERE!! OOGA BOOGA.

Remember me? You better still have that promise tucked away in your pocket! Cuz I’m here to dump a Mammon-load-‘a-trouble! (Ideas)

Okay. But first, a little bit of back story.

At first when I played the first game, I was really just playing for self interest (and I was bored). I really started to get attached to Lucifer but then I saw the relationship between Luci and Dia and was like- “OH THESE BITCHES FUCKIN’!” (That’s literally why I’m only playing the game. To see these two love birds interact (and possibly uncover a little more of their backstory piece by piece.)

Anyway. Back to the main point ig.

So. The main idea that comes to my mind with these two is just… lingerie. Lucifer wearing lingerie to ‘impress’ or ‘seduce’ Dia is just SO gold. Also Dia trying to fit into lingerie but it just ends up tearing and is absolutely hilarious. I love home boy sm oml.

The second idea would probs be something like- “Stressful day? Leave it to Dia! He’ll make is somehow worse by trying to cheer you up!” Which is so cannon in my opinion- bc I’m still remembering the pillow fight scene from early in the game lmao.

The last idea is probably gonna go with Lucifer slander. The brothers teasing Luci about how Luci and Dia never leave each other’s side and are always near each other is golden in my opinion.

Anyway. That’s pretty much a more tame version of my thoughts (and so much less in numbers). I hope to read more of your AMAZINGLY CRAFTED fanworks in the very near future! Kudos to you, from the DiaLuci community 💙❤️

Ahoy there fellow shipper!

I'm so happy you found me here because I am also full of shenanigans and I loved reading yours!

While I did start playing to experience that chuunibyou part of my life again and be a nonbinary character in an otome (interesting concept), I ALSO play the game mainly to see these guys interact. This ship can fit into so many situations™ and I have no trouble writing or drawing them in any AUs with their silly dynamic. To this day, nothing beats The Glory Days Lucifer UR card. I based so much of my work off of it. I hope that the devs can keep feeding us in the future ❤️

Lingerie: ooh! Funny story, I have DiaLuci go to the sex shop in Chapter 16 in "Self Control" (Dia goes a lil nuts buying random stuff), and it becomes thematically relevant again in the sequel "The Sex Shop". I do a callback to Lucifer sarcastically noting how the panties cover nothing and "what's the point?" I characterise him as a pragmatic being so I wanted him to be the foil to Diavolo's silliness (Chapter 13 TSS). I started out writing these for smut purposes, but I just couldn't let the possibilities go to waste; that's why SC and TSS both go into very emotional territory and are very plotful because i wanted them to be together in all ways (from love, friendship, lust, not necessarily in that order). They were meant to be together the moment Dia rearranged Lucifers mind via their first meeting (Dia gets to rearrange more than that in the far future after their thousands of years of slowburn ohoho). I write these bitches as switches so ofc they both get to experience the fun things. I may draw the lingerie but I also have part 3 of The Self Control Saga where I can go into it because part 3 is my Kinktober offerings.

Dia making everything better™ is the best thing ever. This absolute bafoon of a prince presses a mystery button just for the lulz and stops time. Canonically, he's too silly for his own good and i swear Lucifer gets more grey hairs dealing with all the shenanigans. (Dia finds his greys mad sexy though so maybe he's doing it on purpose)

Re: the brothers. I think you would enjoy reading chapter 2 of "Lucifer's Socks and Other Goofy Stories". I will get them to poke at the relationship somehow in one of my stories but I haven't found a thematically relevant place to put that yet :D

Thank you for enjoying my shenanigans. Feel free to throw more thoughts at me! NSFW is the name of the game but tell me you wouldn't enjoy the fluff just as much! :))

🖤❤

[bunbunnyeve]

I’m so bored at this wedding. I will ramble.

So I’m drawing little things about my vamp au from time to time and so far I have tails as Knuckles sidekick. I imagine they try to hunt the vampire, Rouge, at night due to certain rumors that Amy had informed them about. And echidnas don’t see well in the dark so Tails is a good buddy since foxes see better but he’s also scared to meet the vampire so that’ll be a little funny. Rouge has a huge old victorian style mansion (they all dress like it too) and she’s quite known which is why she often has visitors that happen to „vanish“. Idk what role Sonic will have in this but ig it’ll just be like he randomly popped in since it’s probably going to b a prime au. Knuckles is kinda serious in this au and he’s half vampire and doesn’t like it but Rouge knows and once they meet she tries to encourage him to be closer to his vampire half, kinda in a evil manipulative way because that’s just Rouge. But I guess that would explain why he can fly in this au. I’m basing this a little bit on vampire hunter d. He inherited some abilities but not seeing in the dark lol. Boy I’m so excited to draw more because I love old clothing I’m rly proud of my vampire Rouge because she wears this rly nice cloak but once she strikes she takes it off and WOOWZER her wings spring out and her beautiful wine-red dress is seen and it’s rly pretty until she kills you and steals all your money and jewelry. Maybe this is how Knuckles would try to lure her in a trap. It’d be rly silly. I like Sonic primes characterization and how each shatterverse focuses on what would happen to the characters personality if some special things are missing so I will try to think about Rouge. I’m not very good but I will try. Omgeee I will have to think about their NAMES!! HIHIHIHI WOWW I cant think of anything yet

[andromebaa]

Despair's Legacy

A Danganronpa AU

Part 3 - More Legacy Students

Here are the younger Legacy students!

Lolita

Lolita only exists because my brother forced me to make her and I am so glad he did because she's so fun and silly. Another stupid mish-mash idea cuz she's basically a younger and more obnoxious version of Tsumugi (she's a cosplaying otaku-ass nerd). My only wish is that I was a better character designer because her clothes would look more flashy and ridiculous. I just based her main outfit on something I used to wear when I was younger lmao.

Yes, she's also supposed to kind of look like Princess Piggles that was intentional.

Jin

Our protagonist, everyone! His main personality trait is that he's a little wussy baby. He's spent most of his life thinking he's been watched in the shadows and uh, he wasn't really wrong actually. I think the whole story was supposed to be kind of a coming of age/test of bravery for him. Overcoming his fears and all that. Apart from that he is a little bland. Sorry Jin.

Yes yes I did the stupid cringe Albus Severus thing to him I'm sorry I'm sorry. I didin't mention it before but Kyoko's dad actually died during the whole purging Junko thing at the start of the AU. So yeah we got the carrying on the name thing from that. Fun fact the first name I gave him I ended up using as Daiya's actual name. Funny how that kind of stuff happens.

Naomi

Everyone, our deuteragonist!

She's just a small version of Kyoko. No, but yeah, she likes being a little detective and getting into mischief. Kyoko sets up little crimes for her to solve. She's definitely a lot braver than her older brother and will ask the questions everyone else is afraid to say. I think they make a cute crime-solving duo.

I only realised fairly recently that she's very autistic-coded so I'll definitely canonize that.

Haruhi

Second youngest Legacy student! So young that she doesn't have a card yet totally did not make one for her because I didn't get far enough in the play-by-post to do it.

She's kid-sized, her birthday is on the 5th of June, she likes tending gardens and fantasizes about playing outside (where the real sun shines!!). She dislikes sitting still. Her parents are, according to her records, Leon and Sayaka. I like to imagine that Sayaka dressed her up like this against her will. The wings were a compromise.

Shion

This little asshole doesn't have a card either. Baby sized; August 8th; likes drumming; dislikes not having object permanence. You're never gonna fucking guess who his parents are. I think me and my brother made a joke that in this AU Monokuma poked holes in all the condoms.

Now I know what you're thinking - you didn't seriously put a baby into a killing game. Why? I dunno, it's funny.

His only personality trait is that he's wicked good on drums. It's played off as a joke to go with the whole family band stupid dumb fucking schtick I made. Haruhi was going to be part of it too but she kind of evolved into having her own personality and I'm so happy for her that she did.

And that's all of them! Looking back I kind of wish I made maybe one or two more kids cuz it's a pretty small roster but I managed to roll with it. As before, I have an embarrassing amount of lore about all of them so please feel free to ask if you want!

Part 2 - - - Part 4

[melis-writes]

Michael Corleone getting wounded by a bullet to protect his family / his recovery time with his family

Omg, omg, omg… THE ACTION!! 😳 To make it a bit more realistic, I’m going to base this prompt at Michael and Victoria’s private villa in Sicily since Lake Tahoe is crawling with security and his guards and we need something besides the attempted assassination scene in film again!! 😅 Gonna do a little AU here where we have baby Vincent but James isn’t born/conceived just yet! 🥺🙏🏻

“I don’t know how to start, mama.” Niccolo giggles, holding up a piece of his puzzle. “Too many pieces!”

“Wait, just how many pieces are there?” You smile back at him from across the living room, pouring half a glass of red wine for yourself and Michael. “Isn’t that the hundred-piece puzzle Uncle Tom got you?”

“Nooope!” Niccolo digs his hands into the various, scattered puzzle pieces on the carpet floor before him. “This is a thousand piece one!”

“Thousand.” Vincent’ eyes widen as he sits cross-legged next to his brother.

“But it’s a puzzle set of Lake Tahoe, isn’t it?” Michael sits cross legged over his armchair, all casual and relaxed with a pair of grey, pleated slacks and a looser, cotton dress shirt. “Shouldn’t be too difficult if it’s mostly water.”

“Too much water, I think!” Niccolo begins to spread out the puzzle pieces neatly before him. “Okay Vincent, Uncle Tom says first we have to put them in the same colors…”

“Where’s Verona?” You scoop up both of the wineglasses, smiling down at your boys. “Didn’t she say she wanted to help put it together too?”

“She went downstairs to get a snack, I think.” Michael stretches out his arms, giving you an appreciative half smile as he takes one of the wineglasses from you.

“Oh, she could have told me. There’s the whole pantry in there.” You chuckle, setting your wineglass down on the coffee table in front of you and Michael. “I’ll go check on her. Here,” you begin to move towards the spiral staircase, taking only a few steps down before calling out for Verona’s name.

“Verona, honey? Got all your snacks down there?” You raise your voice so Verona can hear you from where the kitchen pantry is.

“Yeah, mama!” You hear Verona’s voice ring out as she skips towards the staircase, holding a small plate of brownies in her hand. “Brownies for me, Niccolo and Vincent!”

“Not me or your father?” You ask jokingly.

Verona freezes in her tracks by the stairs, giving out a little gasp. “Oh no, I can—”

“No, no, darling.” You let out a soft laugh, “I’m just teasing you, silly. We’re all still very full from dinner. No brownies for us tonight.”

“Maybe tomorrow night then!” Verona beams, beginning to carefully make her way up the steps as not to drop the brownies off her plate.

“She’s got brownies!” You exclaim, coming back to secondary living space upstairs.

“Oooooo!” Vincent claps his little hands together, growing excited just from the mention of it.

“Brownies and puzzles.” Niccolo peeks up happily.

“I told you he gets his sweet tooth from you.” Michael chuckles quietly, noticing Vincent’ reaction.

“Maybe he does.” You blush, watching as Verona sets down the plate of brownies next to her brothers’ puzzle set, but doesn’t sit down nor does she take a piece for herself.

“Should I get one for daddy’s friends too?” Verona pouts, seeming a little confused and distraught.

“What do you mean, honey?” Michael picks up the folded newspaper off the coffee table.

“For your friends outside, daddy.” Verona points out. “The funny man I saw in the garden said he would come in soon to see you.”

All the colour in your face immediately drains as your heart sinks into the pit of your gut, and you share the alarming look with Michael who drops his newspaper to the ground.

“Whose out in the garden?” Michael rises to his feet, now beginning to concern Vincent and Niccolo who frown.

“Daddy, what’s going on?” Niccolo hugs onto his little brother.

“Michael,” your voice wavers as you gently pull Verona over towards you. “There’s no security outside, is there?”

“No, not at this hour.” Michael grits his teeth before looking back at Verona. “Who was this man? Did he say anything to you?”

Verona notices the urgency in her father’s voice, stuttering over her words. “Ah, um no, daddy. I never saw the man before. He was tall like Uncle Sonny and he wore all black, he was nice to me and said he knew you.”

“You didn’t let him in or anything, right sweetheart?” You hunch down to Verona’s height.

“No.” Verona’s eyes begin to sting with tears out of fear, “he said daddy won’t let him in so he’ll come inside soon. He was nice to me.”

Just then, you, Michael and the children flinch to hear the sound of glass shattering downstairs, confirming your worst fears; a home invasion.

“Victoria,” Michael quickly gestures to you and the children. “Get the children and yourself into the nursery, lock the door and do not come out. Do you understand me?”

“But—” You panic, knowing without a doubt there’s never just one would-be assassin breaching the grounds.

“Don’t argue with me, just go!” Michael hisses through gritted teeth, motioning for the children to follow you. “Vai e segui tua madre. Fai come dice e stai zitto. Non uscire da quella stanza!” (Go and follow your mother. Do as she says and stay quiet. Do not step out of that room!) Michael speaks in Italian to warn the children.

“What’s going on?” Niccolo’s throat tightens as Vincent bursts out in tears. “Is a bad man inside?”

“Come, come, it’s okay.” You shake your head, scooping Vincent up into your arms and nudging both Niccolo and Verona over to the corridor. “Like your father said, we have to get inside right now, okay?”

Verona covers her mouth to silence her sobs, trying to keep her footsteps as quiet as possible with Niccolo’s as you both enter the nursery and immediately shut the door behind you lightly—locking it.

“Shit.” Michael mutters to himself, opening up the wine cabinet and grabbing his fully loaded pistol and cocking it.

Michael listens intently for any noise downstairs, being able to pinpoint the sound of smashed glass being stepped over—allowing Michael to easily picture in his head just where the assassin or assassins would be.

“Mama,” Vincent’ cries into your chest, clutching onto your blouse. “Where daddy?”

“Shhhh, daddy’s gonna come soon, okay?” You kiss the top of Vincent’ head, bouncing him on your knee as you sit with Niccolo and Verona in the furthest corner of the room.

“This is my fault, mama.” Verona’s expression twists in distraught as she covers her face.

“No, sweetheart, it’s not.” You place a hand over her shoulder, giving it a light shake. “Don’t you ever think that, okay? Daddy’s going to fix this for us, he’s going to get rid of the man outside and he won’t come and bother us anymore.”

“You did good, sis.” Niccolo no longer seems as visibly shaken as his siblings. “You saw the man and told daddy, right?”

“I-I did,” Verona hiccups quietly.

“Then you’re the reason why everyone’s safe.” Niccolo gives his twin sister a reassuring smile, pulling her into a hug.

“My God,” you murmur to yourself, weakly smiling at the two but unable to calm yourself down from the nauseuating anxiety and panic racing through you.

Invasions into any building, being cornered, assassins sent whether through a vehicle to shoot by or to come after you even in public let alone bullets flying over your head are things you’ve gotten used to and seen far before you married Michael.

It all changes now though with your children’s lives on the line. To do anything bold and risky as you know you normally would could endanger their lives, especially when you don’t know how many have entered or are trying to enter the villa.

The nursery remains to be more of a hidden room down the corridor of the study, the children’s three separate bedrooms, the guest rooms and so forth and is the furthest from both the staircase downstairs and the kitchen; the only logical place to hide for now.

Michael’s mastered his aim and his nerves from his army days; neither his finger over the trigger of his pistol or Michael’s general grasp over the gun shake. He remains steady, poised and silent, aiming down towards the now dark staircase as Michael’s come to realize the light bulb in the kitchen was shot out.

Two assassins move through the villa; the man from the garden who had seen and spoken to Verona knowing he’d catch her by surprise and kill her later once he’d do the same for you and Michael first, and the other moving towards the back while avoiding glass shards underneath his boots in complete silence.

‘You know I’m up here, coward.’ Michael holds his breath, continuing to listen and wait for the assassin to move towards the staircase and enter his line of sight.

The assassin mutters something to himself inaudibly about the shattered glass, no doubt assuming he’s made quite the loud entrance but is completely unaware Michael’s tracking him in the darkness by sound alone.

Just as the assassin takes one foot further towards the edge of the stairs, Michael aims for his head fully in sight and pulls the trigger.

Verona and James flinch in your arms at the sound of a gunshot and it kills you to keep a hand lightly over James’ mouth to keep his crying quiet—seeing your son’s big eyes streaming with tears as he looks up at you hopelessly.

“Mama, is daddy—” Verona swallows hard, unable to finish her sentence.

“No way, no.” Niccolo whispers, holding both of his siblings’ hands. “I hear it too close to us.”

“It’s your father’s pistol.” You croak out, reassuring Verona. “I know the sound, honey. It’s his.” Brain matter splatters over the foyer and front door of the villa as the assassin instantly drops dead, falling to the floor with a thud.

Michael doesn’t waste time in heading down to see him or look further; the full confirmation that the assassin’s dead remains in the massive crimson mess pooling out from under his shattered skull.

The second assassin immediately begins to make his way towards the staircase where he’s heard the gunshot fired, but not without coming out of stealth himself.

Michael’s quick to lunge to the side to avoid three bullets fired from the second assassin in rapid succession—remaining behind the shadows of the hallway.

“Shhhh, shhh, hey, it’s okay, honey.” You wipe off Vincent’s tears gently with your thumb. “Mama’s got you. We’re all safe in here, okay?”

“That’s not d-daddy’s gun.” Verona swallows down the lump in her throat; her hands beginning to shake uncontrollably from fear.

One side of you tugs insistently to get up, to do something—anything—knowing you can’t obviously find a weapon to use against an armed assassin from the nursery but if you slipped across the hallway and into your bedroom, you could at least grab your own gun and make yourself useful.

Still, the other side of you remains frozen in spot, completely considerate of your children’s safety and knowing you could never leave them in here even for just a minute knowing there’s an intruder in the house jeopardizing everyone’s safety.

The feeling of being utterly hopeless and useless in a situation like this that you know you otherwise wouldn’t, frustrates you to the brink of tears, but all you can do is remain hidden in the corner of the nursery with your three children and attempt to calm them down as you four hear the sounds of a gun continuing to fire.

Pointing his gun upward, the assassin begins to bolt up the stairs, expecting to ambush Michael in the living room only to find nothing but almost complete darkness shrouding the room and silence.

Michael’s footsteps make no noise as he moves ever so carefully down the hallway, pressing his back up to the wall and listening for further movements made by the assassin.

The assassin squints his eyes in the darkness, listening himself for any breathing or spotting out a darker figure in the room. It only takes the assassin a mere minute to see the room is in all clear and that he’s going to have to bust down every closed door upstairs to find anyone hiding first.

“Niccolo, look after your brother.” You whisper to him, rubbing up and down Vincent’s arms reassuringly. “Calm him down, alright? Do not move, both of you—” you glance back at Verona, “nobody make a single peep.”

“Mama, where are you going?” Verona whispers, her eyes widening at you beginning to slowly stand up.

“I’m not going anywhere, honey.” You tell her, motioning for her to stay quiet by putting your finger over your lip. “I’m just going to help daddy.”

Holding his little brother in his arms, Niccolo watches you with utmost curiosity—admiring your bravery and courage to move towards the door of the nursery knowing an armed and ready assassin could be just around the corner.

“Give it up, Corleone!” The assassin scowls, giving away his location from the sound of his voice out of mere frustration. “I know you’re lurking up here. Get out and face me like a man and maybe I’ll take pity on your family when I fucking kill them too.”

Michael remains silent, neither moving nor reacting to the comment but now being aware the assassin is just a few feet behind him standing in the middle of the hallway. All the assassin would have to do is walk to the end and look to the left side of the wall to see Michael pressed up against it; an opportunity Michael won’t be giving him.

Michael begins to slowly inch his gun towards the wall, knowing he can fire out and perhaps at least hit the assassin in the torso or his stomach with the direction the assassin’s body faces Michael by the wall, or even shoot out his kneecap if his aim goes awry.

You move towards the door slowly not to pronounce any of your footsteps and ever so carefully turn the key to unlock the nursery door; neither Michael nor the assassin hear.

By the time you pull the key out and hold it in your hands as a weapon, the assassin remains right in front of the nursery door, still pointing his gun out to where Michael is.

Taking his chance now or never, Michael fires out but the dark figure of his pistol glistens with where the reflection of the streetlights glare into the window by the end of the hallway.

The assassin swiftly moves aside as Michael’s bullet lodges into the wall instead, missing him completely.

“I’ve got you now, fucker.” The assassin is just about to storm off down the hallway to get Michael, firing again towards the wall as Michael also continues to do so, guarding himself.

You burst open the door and it’s then that all three of your children get a glimpse of the assassin standing right in front of you.

Out of surprise, the assassin isn’t able to turn his gun on you in time or fire. Instead, you lunge at his face with the key and gouge out one of his eyes, lodging the key in—luckily concealed to the children with your back covering the sight.

All Verona, Niccolo and Vincent realize is that you’ve somehow hit and maimed the assassin with an object in your hand causing the assassin to scream out in agony as blood pours from his eye.

Michael’s eyes snap open knowing the attack is your doing. He springs out from the hallway and fires, but not before the assassin decides if he doesn’t shoot Michael now, he won’t get a chance to kill him or you at all.

The assassin fires and from the adrenaline surging in Michael’s veins, Michael remains almost completely unaware the bullet hits the side of his lower torso and so do you from the darkness.

In that split second, your jerk your knee up and knock the pistol out of the assassin’s grasp as Michael fires three shots into the man’s chest—killing him instantly.

You lunge back, blocking the door out of reaction as the assassins drops dead in the hallway, causing the children to scream out.

Michael hectically roams his hands around the wall, hitting the light switch to illuminate the entire corridor before staring up at you.

“Victoria!” Michael pants, applying pressure over his bullet wound but it isn’t exhaustion or adrenaline in Michael’s tone as he speaks to you, it’s frustration you didn’t do as he said and almost put your life in danger.

“Daddy!” Niccolo and Verona chime out, rushing out of the nursery to see their father with little Vincent accompanying them.

“Michael, the others—” Your muscles clench from stress and tension, gesturing down to the staircase.

“It’s over, it’s over.” Michael shakes his head, tossing his pistol behind him. “There was only two.”

“Daddy?” Verona gasps out as all four of you look over to where his hand is clutching; not to calm himself or his breathing down, but now noticing blood seeping out of his dress shirt.

“Michael!” You cry out, jumping over the assassin’s sprawled corpse and over to him.

“Vincent, no.” Niccolo holds his brother back from the assassin’s body, keeping him towards the nursery. “Turn around, okay? Buddy, turn around and close your eyes.”

“Bad man!” Vincent cries out, panicking.

“If you close your eyes, the bad man will go away.” Niccolo tells his brother with a smile, trying to block the view of the body from the doorway of the nursery.

“Daddy’s hurt!” Verona bursts into tears.

“I’m fine, honey. I’m fine.” Michael tries to brush it off, but you pry his hand off of the wound and gasp out to see the bullet lodged inside of him.

“Michael, we have to get you an ambulance right now—” You bunch up the fabric of his dress shirt to press it down with the pressure of your hand against the wound to stop it from bleeding. “No use.” Michael grits his teeth as beads of sweat begin to form over his forehead. “They cut the phone lines. All of them.”

Blinking back her tears, Verona’s knees almost give out from the sight of the assassin’s body underneath her as she jumps over it and rushes to the bedroom.

Quick on her feet and with the wits of her mother, Verona turns on the bedroom lights and pulls off the painting of the Sicilian countryside off the wall by the bed to reveal the hidden emergency handle.

Without even hesitating as you help Michael move towards the bedroom with you, Verona yanks down on the handle and sets the alarms blaring around the villa—signalling to surrounding security.

“Smart girl.” Michael grunts, leaning a hand against the wall. “That’ll do it.”

“Michael, please.” You sob, trying to apply both pressure on his wound with Michael’s hand on top of yours as well as keep Michael’s balance steady against the wall. “Baby, be careful, you’re hurt!”

“Victoria,” Michael lets out a shudder, facing you with a sense of relief knowing now his security will be in the villa as soon as possible. “Baby, don’t worry about me. I said I’m f-fine. Not my first time, you know.”

“I don’t care, this is different.” You grit your teeth, feeling your heart aching in your chest from the sight of Michael’s blood soaking over your hand.

“You should care.” Michael exhales, tilting your chin to face him directly with his free hand. “Because you didn’t listen to me when I told you to stay put with the children.”

“You would have gotten killed if I didn’t do something.” You hiccup. “I didn’t endanger anyone, I had to act out.”

“And if he had shot you?” Michael grunts out in pain, “then what? Would it have been worth it?”

“Only you’d hold this against me when you literally just got shot.” You sniffle, beginning to hear the sound of men hollering outside in a mix of English and Italian; Michael’s security heading inside of the villa and securing the outside perimeters.

“It’s because I love you, that’s why.” Michael breathes out, beginning to feel dizzy. “I’d rather it be me who gets hurt than you or our children.”

“Daddy.” Niccolo hugs Michael’s arm tightly as tears escape his eyes. “You’re gonna be okay.”

“Hold on, daddy. Please.” Verona pleads throughout her crying.

“Michael, keep your eyes open.” Your voice breaks as you give his face a little shake. “Michael—”

“I’m fine, Victoria.” Michael fights the urge to succumb to unconsciousness. “I told you—”

“Don Corleone!”

“We have the medic—call an ambulance!”

“Secure the grounds immediately!”

“We need to get Mrs. Corleone and the children out safely first.”

“I want to know who these assholes are—search the bodies and fucking find out how this happened!”

“Phone lines were cut, we need to trace this.”

Dozens of voices swarm you, the children and Michael throughout the villa; the same voices of Michael’s men you and the children would be hearing all night.

Safely taken out of the villa with the grounds swarming with guards, it’s only a few minutes more before the ambulance arrives.

There’s nothing but panic and fear surrounding you and the children regardless of hearing from Michael’s men that the villa is secured, that security will be staying inside and out, something about the phone lines being repaired and bodies being searched.

Still, you remain strong for both yourself and the children through it all. You hold little Vincent in your arms, kissing his cheek and wiping his tears to comfort him as Michael’s taken into the ambulance still conscious, but barely holding on due to losing blood.

Niccolo above all comforts both of his siblings, even reassuring you in a way with how hopeful he is Michael will recover and that “all the bad will go away soon”. It was something Michael had told him the night of the attempted assassination on both of your lives at Lake Tahoe; it’s the same thing Niccolo reassures his siblings with now.

“All the bad will go away soon…”

Regardless of being told the bullet was successfully removed during surgery, hearing it hit no vital organs or caused any internal damage and that Michael would recover just fine with rest and time, the heartache you feel only intensifies.

You holding Michael’s hand, sitting next to him by the hospital bed with your head leaned down and weeping. All you can do is cry, all you can do is think of alternate scenarios where it could have been worse for Michael and for the children and you.

“Baby,” Michael murmurs to you softly, taking a deep breath. “Baby, look at me.”

Sniffling, you slowly raise your head to peek at your husband looking back at you on the hospital bed. “I hate s-seeing you like this. I really do.”

“I’m fine, baby.” Michael gives your hand a squeeze. “I’m never going to convince you of that, am I?”

You crack a weak smile, shaking your head. “Not until we get you home and we can take those bandages off for good.”

“You sound like my father.” Michael chuckles quietly. “Rushing to get me home as soon as he heard I was the slightest bit injured—and that was war.”

“Your father’s a smart man.” You let out a shaky breath. “I want no harm to come to you, ever. I don’t care. I could have lost you.”

“Don’t say things like that, darling.” Michael frowns at you. “I’m here for you and the children. As I said…the most important thing is that you’re all safe. That none of you are hurt. Nothing else matters, understand? Nothing.”

“I-I know.” You hiccup. “But you’re not some sort of sacrifice to me, Michael. I can handle myself too, you know.”

“And you did.” Michael wants to stay angry with you for what you did, knowing it was reckless and could have put you in his position or killed, but can’t maintain the feeling for long. “Just as you always feel the need to do.”

“Mm, you’re upset with me.” You pout, kissing the back of Michael’s hand. “I can still tell by that tone in your voice.”

“I’m a little disappointed, I’m not upset.” Michael sighs softly. “Though that would be the first time I’ve seen a room key weaponized.”

“My father taught me anything can be a weapon in any room if all you have is the intention to hurt somebody with it.” You blink back away your tears. “It didn’t really matter to me what I grabbed, but the idea just sparked in my head.”

“Bastard lost an eye before he lost his life.” Michael mutters under his breath. “How many people can say their wives have done that to assassins?”

“Stop,” you giggle weakly. “I’m no ordinary wife.”

“But you’re my wife.” Michael rubs his thumb against the back of your hand soothingly. “That’s going to be a hell of a story you can tell anyone for years to come.”

“We’re just going to ignore you gunning down two assassins almost in complete darkness?” You caress Michael’s face gently.

“Nothing I hadn’t done in the war before, honey.” Michael tells you, appreciative of your soft affection towards him. “You don’t get arrested or ‘caught’ in this line of business. You just get killed.” “I’ve been hearing that all my life.” You nod glumly. “It’s different to accept what we’ve known all of our lives now that we have children.”

“That’s what I mean.” Michael gives your fingers a little kiss. “Otherwise I’d be wrong to assume you’d ever stay put. You shot the last assassin you made short work of in the thigh and left us a blood trail to follow.”

“Please.” You blush, “you make it sound like this is all about me.”

“In a way it is.” Michael laces his hand with yours, holding it up tightly. “You and our children are the only thing that matter to me, Victoria. Nothing can ever get inbetween that.” With Michael’s weekly long stay at the hospital, word had already gotten back to New York and to both of your families as to what happened.

Vito and Giuseppe both sent and hired extra security to your villa, insisting they remain even during the daytime completely armed. It now meant there’d be little to no privacy should you spend any time with Michael by the pool, in the garden or the front of the villa, but there was no negotiating any kind of safety now.

The assassins had been tracked down to an unknown, small gang that resided in the countryside of Sicily, known to sometimes terrorize travelling merchants or harass peasants working out in the farms. They remained small fish to fry, but your father wasn’t having any of it the moment he learned their location.

Giuseppe had his men in Sicily detonate a bomb in the gang’s only hideout and make sure every member was confirmed dead. This meant bringing back wisdom teeth and ears to ensure the kill was made for all twenty-two so called ‘gangsters’.

With the Ferrari name more prominent guarding the countryside, your father was more than convinced there would be no trouble or anything similar, and such guaranteed assurances and promises went back to the days of your grandfather beginning his criminal enterprise.

Get-well-soon gifts from New York poured into the hospital day by day from both you and Michael’s family.

That meant a fragrant, beautiful bouquet sent from Tom and Theresa, rum and wine from Sonny and Fredo to “take off the edge a little”, and little cards scribbled with hearts and kind messages from Michael’s nieces and nephews.

When the doctors first gave the all clear for you and the children to come in and visit, Verona had run up in front of everyone else just to give her father a hug.

Michael hugged Verona back tightly to his right side, avoiding touching his injury and let his daughter cry onto his shoulder about how scared she was that she would lose her father and that “the bad man still hurt him”.

Just like you, Verona wasn’t all too reassured by Michael’s words and knew she’d begin to believe it when her father would be out of the hospital and back home with you all for good. Verona even insisted with the rest of her siblings to sleep in Michael’s hospital room too, just so they could spend time with their father and it was what all four of you had done every other day.

“You were very brave, Verona.” Michael murmured back to his daughter, brushing a curtain of her hair behind her ear. “I don’t want you to forget that. You were the one who set the alarm off after all.”

“Y-yeah.” Verona sniffled, peeking up at her father. “I wanted to help.”

“And you did, darling.” Michael kissed his daughter’s forehead. “You have to forgive yourself for everything else. Do it for me, please. None of that was your fault.”

Niccolo looked up at his father with such pride, calling Michael his hero in a series of many warm hugs. “Daddy, you were super brave. Bam, bam, BAM!”

“Niccolo.” You looked at your son with concern, considering his enthusiastic behaviour right now was just inappropriate.

“It’s fine.” Michael chuckled and ruffled Niccolo’s hair. “You know who he gets it from.”

“Oops.” Niccolo giggled sheepishly. “But it’s still true! I hope you get well soon, daddy.”

Although Vincent is still a little too young at four years old to completely understand what just happened, all he could do was giggle happily at the sight of his father sitting upright in his hospital bed.

Whenever Michael was able and had the strength to, he spent equal amounts of time with you and all three of his children—avoiding the topic of what happened and rather speaking to them and parenting as he normally would.

Michael’s release from the hospital and prescription for some painkillers meant notifying Doctor Katherine your trip to Sicily had officially come to a short end, and that Michael would finish healing back home in Lake Tahoe.

You and Michael  made arrangements with Doctor Katherine to bring in the best child psychologist to be found in Nevada—concerned with the children as much as you were for Michael.

However long it would take didn’t matter to you or Michael, in a way all five of you would be healing in one way or another, simply eager to put this horrific chapter of your lives to rest once and for all.

Once you had all returned back to Lake Tahoe, Michael was able to get his stitches removed at the two week mark and continue resting and continuing his business casually at home.

Luckily with the caliber of bullet that lodged into Michael was small and didn’t burst into other fragments inside of him and narrowly missing his organs, Michael’s full recovery would only take a few more months before all that remains on his skin is a scar.

“Learned something from Doctor Katherine, didn’t you?” Michael rests against propped up pillows on his bed, watching you gently clean the last bit of his skin wound.

“You bet I did.” You clean off the dried blood with a careful hand, analyzing how well it’s healed. “You know I want to take care of you always.”

“Mhm.” Michael’s eyes land over yours. “Not much left to take care of now, thanks to the both of you.”

“Is it okay to hug daddy now?” Niccolo grins, peeking up from his puzzle set.

“I think it is.” You let out a soft laugh, “what do you think, baby?”

“Of course.” Michael gives his children a faint smile.

Verona beams back at you, matching your enthusiasm at hearing how Michael’s healing is going as she holds her little brother in her arms.

“Told you.” Niccolo looks over at his sister and little Vincent. “All the bad will go away soon and daddy will get better.”

[papaerloy]

SBI ACTOR AU BRAINROT LETS GO.

This is just a list of stuff I´ve written down for an SBI/DSMP actor AU that´s been living in my mind rent free. I´m currently working on a oneshot for this AU so stay tuned!

list is under the cut because it´s LONG and I want to be polite to your feed.

SBI FAMILY WITH TECHBUR TWINS AND TOMMY ALL BEING PHIL AND KRISTIN’S BIOLOGICAL KIDS THANK YOU.

They’re all actors, or just big personalities in general-

Kristin is a little more lowkey, she’s had acting roles before, but she’s more like the backbone of the family that keeps everyone together, since life can be hectic when everyone’s eyes are on you.

Phil has his own TV show where he’s a winged adventurer who travels around a huge fantasy world, explores the massive structures and interacts with the deity’s and creatures inhabiting it! (Biggest moment in the series was totally The Battle For Endlantis)

Wilbur has been acting since he was a child, starring in a series called “Soot House” for most of his early to late teen years, before the series ended. (Disney child star Wilbur GSKFJSJHSHDEHSH)

Wilbur also absolutely still made his ARG.

Despite taking roles here and there, Wilbur quickly moved on to direct and act for his own series and movies, like a small series called “Earths Empires” that sadly didn’t last long, but he got to star his family and friends in it, so it was fun nonetheless!

Wilbur also loves music and later on goes to start Lovejoy with his friends, which he then focuses more on than acting, but still manages to juggle both careers. (I mean really? This man only doing only one thing? As if.)

Techno is a good actor, but he is even better at martial arts and has a nag for competition. Which is why he’s part of a competitive series called “Hypixel” which is a really random wacky series, that puts the actors in situations where they need to complete challenges and Techno is of course a beloved contestant because TECHNOBLADE NEVER DIES!

Technoblade is obviously not his real name, but the alias he uses in Hypixel. Yet everyone just calls him that now because he is very iconic with his long pink hair, golden crown and the pig mask he wears with his very royal looking dress style.

Since Hypixel lets the actors pick their own brand and looks, Techno honestly doesn’t change much from when he’s on screen compared to when he’s off screen.

Techno actually dislikes the attention outside of work and tends to wear different kinds of face masks with cool designs on them. (One specifically loved by the public is a light pink face mask with golden embroidered tusks on the sides, based off his Hypixel brand.)

Tommy was firmly kept out of the spotlight as much as Phil and Kirstin could manage. All of his childhood and also his early teen years, he never had any acting roles apart from like school plays and normal kid stuff...

It’s all due to Phil and Kristin realizing letting Wilbur be a child actor/star was a big mistake that they didn’t want to repeat. (The pressure was too great and it kinda fucked Wilbur over due to the harsh nature of the acting world.)

Tommy has always been interested in the acting world though, he wanted to be cool like his big brothers but had to wait... So instead he made his own little films together with his friend Toby! (Better know as Tubbo because that’s just what everyone calls him) Who just so happened to be in the same boat as him, regarding the whole “my family does acting but I’m too young and not allowed” thing.

The two of them just made silly little comedy skits, but they’d get a decent viewing on Youtube and were quite enjoyable.

( Tubbo is related to Schlatt, who is a well known actor as well. Just like Phil and Kristin, he didn’t want Tubbo to be exposed to the actor world too early. Mainly due to he himself going down a pretty harsh path, because of diving straight into it at an early age. He is better now and a really good dad! )

Tommy did eventually start appearing occasionally on Hypixel because Techno was on there.

Later on Tommy got his first role in an actual series, it was “Earths Empires” that was directed by Wilbur, mainly because Phil and Kristin thought it to be a good and safe place to start.

Tommy’s very first BIG role was when him and Tubbo were cast for a new series called “The Dreamer” (or something).

Tommy got to play a young and chaotic teen called “Tommy” (the writers liked his name, thought it fit the character well). While Toby’s character was named “Tubbo” (the writers found his nickname really endearing), who was gonna be Tommy’s best friend and partner in crime.

When being cast for “The Dreamer” Tommy once again got to meet the actor called Clay, who he had met in the past due to Clay having been starred alongside Techno a few times. This time, he was the person that was gonna play the character Dream in the series.

Clay was a man who seemed to be constantly increasing in fame due to starring in a series of films called “Manhunt”. Where he was a clever and agile man, who had to survive while being on the run from hunters who wanted to kill him. The number of hunters seemingly increasing every movie.

Funny enough the actors who played the hunters from the first “Manhunt” movies, George and Nick, also starred in the new series, but this time they would be Dream’s friends called George and Sapnap, Which was more close to their actual real life relationships as well.

The Disk Saga was a huge success and the series very quickly grew in popularity! Tommy was very happy to be one of the main characters alongside Tubbo.

Tommy’s own fame started to grow more rapidly after that, becoming a very beloved character and actor very quickly.

Of course the family was very proud of Tommy, but Phil and Kristin were still a little cautious, trying not to overbook his schedule and still let him be a kid outside of all this.

Wilbur was of course cast for the new L’manberg independence arc and OH MY GOD THE FANS WENT WILD.

Tommy and Wilbur’s brotherly bond shone through a LOT in their acting and the writers even changed the script slightly to make them more pseudo brothers, since their characters weren’t canonly blood related.

Wilbur was also a co-writer, along side playing the character that was dubbed after him “Wilbur”.

Wilbur´s character made Tommy super uncomfortable during the pogtopia arc and it made their life outside of work a little more complicated.

Techno gets cast into the series during the pogtopia arc as well and Tommy and Wilbur are both super excited to work with Techno on set.

Techno gets to keep his name as well because at this point the writers have let most of the cast keep their real names, so why not keep it going?

At the end of the L´manberg independence arc Phil joins (out of all the actors, only Wilbur knew he was joining the series.) and kills Wilbur as the second season ends with L´manburg in shambles and the fans projectile crying about it.

That is all I have for now! 

Also feel free to ask questions or like do anything you’d like with this stuff!

[dat-town]

not gonna miss this chance

Characters: Han Seojun & soloist!female reader

Genre: fluff

Setting: true beauty au, set a year after the tv show’s ending timeline

Summary: Your career is on the verge of ending, hence your management puts you up to do a duet with the infamous Han Seojun. You have heard too many rumours about him to keep track of and yet, none of them could have prepared you for the feelings that came with meeting him.

Words: 4.1k

Self indulgent little snippet because he deserves happiness too.

You had heard of Han Seojun before meeting him, of course you had. Everybody who was in the industry had heard of the hot trend of a Newstagram star-turned idol and his band's shining debut from a year ago. They were told to have snatched teenage girls hearts all over Korea with their good looks and soulful music. You had heard their title track and you had to admit it was nice but nice wasn't enough in a cut-throat industry like entertainment.

Look at you, starting training at twelve, debuting at fifteen and now barely twenty-one you were on the verge of becoming a thrown away doll. Once you had been called cute and the it girl of your generation and now? People were saying you got boring just because your music had matured. Gosh, you couldn't keep singing about first love like your hit song had been for the rest of your life for god's sake. Your last album had been a flop, your company had been losing money and you were still afraid that even with a year left of your contract, they would cut you. But your manager had begged them for a chance and here it was: a collaboration with the newest love of Korea.

But the thing was, Han Seojun had quite a reputation and you didn't know who to believe. Some said he was well-mannered and hard-working. Others gossiped that he was always flirting with his makeup artists and Chen claimed he had been rude to her even when he had just been a ‘nobody’. Not that you were particularly fond of Chen either but as a fellow solo female singer you were a tad bit worried how the infamous singer would treat you.

Well, standing in front of Move Entertainment, you were just about to find out. Taking a shallow breath you followed your manager's lead, bowing to the receptionist and getting into the elevator after taking your visitor's badge. You had heard the company has gone through many changes after the executives were replaced due to the revealed Seyeon scandal but everything looked expensive, shiny and new, unlike in your small agency.

“Hey, I’m Lim Heekyung, nice to meet you. Seojun will be in a minute, too,” a woman in a pantsuit walked up to you on the right floor with a confident smile as she introduced herself. She led you to a meeting room which was apparently customized for a few people only and started preparing papers. She looked excited which was a relief and nice to see, at least someone from Move Entertainment was happy for this project apparently. You were a bit afraid they would see you like a leech, trying to cling onto their new star’s popularity.

“Shall we start? Seojun is a fan of dramatic entrances anyways,” Miss Lim laughed joyfully as if it wasn’t new to her that the idol didn’t make it on time. Ah yeah, you had heard rumours saying that he had something on the company and that was why they were so lenient with him.

You sat in silence, let your manager do the talk about the collaboration project. Seojun could play the guitar, you could play the piano, apparently it was perfect for a ballad duet, though if you used instruments yourself it added to the preparations time. But luckily, there was a songwriter named Leo at the company who had already sent in a few samples specifically for Seojun, so you didn’t have to start from zero.

“Ah, I see you started without me. What did I miss?” A tall boy opened the door wide and flipped down onto the chair across you casually. He had grown into his lanky limbs and with those wide shoulders hugged by the leather jacket, helix earrings in one ear and soft brown hair brushed to one side, it wasn’t a surprise how many female fans swooned over him. But there were a lot of handsome boys in the business, just his looks – no matter how confident he was in them based on the way he carried himself – wouldn’t make a difference.

Miss Lim patiently let Seojun know about the advances and only when she mentioned your name, did the boy glance at you. His dark brown eyes had a sharp form, just as piercing as his gaze, but the cunning smile spreading over his lips softened it a bit. He looked at you as if he wanted to see through you, to figure out how he should have approached you. You expected a snarky or arrogant comment, but in the end, he just flashed a blinding smile at you, one you could see on his posters, before turning back to Miss Lim.

“What’s the schedule?” he asked simply and you both were notified about the deadline of deciding and finalizing the song, the dates of planned recording sessions and the photoshoot. Since there would be no promotion period, it all would be done within a month and half from start to finish. You were a bit relieved hearing that and leave Move Entertainment without any confrontation.

You thought you were good at masking your wary feelings since the further meetings went well and the first recording session went okay-ish. Although both of you had been a bit scolded by the producer for not putting enough feelings into your singing. He claimed that the demo sent by Leo was much more emotional which made Seojun scoff and mumble under his nose. The PD called it for a day, making you promise to practice for next time and one by one they all left. Your manager told you that he would bring the car while you refresh yourself in the bathroom, so you really didn’t expect anyone to wait for you when you stepped out of the restroom, much less Han Seojun.

"Spit it out," he bit out barely glancing your way as he leaned against the corridor’s wall.

"What?" you spluttered as you were really taken aback by his out of blue appearance and question. The guy let out a tired sigh at your obliviousness and pushed himself away from the wall just to walk up to you, towering over your height with his.

"You look at me as if I killed your hamster or something. Which rumour about me bothers you? I fucking can't keep walking on eggshells around you, especially when it's just the two of us," he tsked and you gulped at the sudden called out. You didn’t think it bothered him, or that he was considerate enough to ‘walk on eggshells around you’, you merely thought he was so distant from everybody. It was still better than what Chen had told you.

"Oh, I… nothing. It's stupid. Sorry," you mumbled, feeling embarrassed for your your actions but Seojun apparently wasn’t satisfied without a real answer as he carried on:

"I didn't bully kids in high school but I threatened ones that deserved it, I didn't only get a pity chance from the entertainment, one of our makeup artists is actually one of my best friends, I'm not…"

"Chen told me you are rude and arrogant and have no respect for girls," you blurted out to stop him from speaking because you felt like you didn’t deserve to hear all that. He didn’t owe you any explanation for the way he was. You were just co-workers for a project after all, you had no place in his life, nor he had in yours, so he shouldn’t have been that bothered by your opinion but you understood that he felt uncomfortable due to your silent accusations.

Hearing your hasty interruption, the singer scoffed, a laugh-like sound leaving his mouth.

"Well, I have no respect for girls like Chen who harass my friends and turn their lives into hell just to go on a date with me," he said and it made you blink slowly.

"Oh."

"Yeah, oh. Check your facts before you go around believing such crap," Seojun stepped back with a roll of his eyes.

The whole situation made you feel made about how you acted, so you wished to apologise but it fell from your lips all too carelessly: "Sorry, I was just worried. This is my last chance, so–"

"Last chance?" the guy quirked a brow at you, curious but you quickly waved his question away.

"Nevermind, I just need this song to do well."

"Of course, it will. I'm Han Seojun, it will turn to gold under my hands," he grinned and made eccentric gestures as if he was about to do magic. You couldn't help a smile. “Or well, vocal chords.”

And turn it to gold, he did.

The rest of your recording sessions went smoother, even the previously grumpy PD complimented your for the development in your chemistry. Funny, you wouldn’t have thought that the wall pulled up between the two of you mattered that much, but at least you didn’t have a knot in your stomach, nor did you worry about every small thing you did around Han Seojun. He also acted more casual, more playful, joking around when both of you had a bit of time to take a breather. He snapped silly pictures, showed off with his height, smirked when he got too close but despite all his bravado and lowkey flirting, you believed even he wouldn’t have jeopardised his career over something like this.

Maybe that's why wrapping up the recording felt a tad bit weird: you got used to his presence, his jokes, his beautiful, deep voice that you could have fallen asleep to. Sure, sometimes he was cocky, a bit rough around the edges but he was a great singer and a fun guy. The project seemed to work out well and you loved it a lot, so you hoped the listeners would appreciate it as well.

But before all that you had one photo shoot together for the promotional pictures and the single's cover. You were grateful for the simple pastel colour background and elegant setting. The warm light latte colour and the clock in the background really fit the song's vibe. Luckily, your dress was decent and pretty as well, you didn't have to feel uncomfortable in it at least.  However, you didn’t expect that happy yelp coming from one of the makeup artists stepping into the dressing room. You turned to face the girl, wondering whether she was your fan judged by her excitement.

"Oh my! I'm so happy to finally meet you! Seojun told us about you so much!" she beamed at you which obviously took you back. Well, that you didn’t expect at all. He spoke of you to others? Ah. Apparently to the makeup artist who was most probably that certain one of his best friends he had told you about?

"Don't exaggerate, Imju, I mentioned her like what… once?" Seojun walked in on cue. He rolled his eyes and cleared his throat, trying to avert the topic. "How's Suho?"

You had know idea who that said guy was but after a moment or two you could breathe properly once again while listening to their chatting.

“Just the usual. He’s excited about your duet.”

“Of course, he is,” Seojun grinned, a bit snarky but you could hear the proud undertones of it. When he looked at you, you were surprised by him leaning close though as he quieted down until only you could hear it. “Don’t worry, Jugyeong is really good and just stop her if she gets too gossip-y.”

“Are you talking about me behind my back, hah, Han Seojun?” The pretty girl called Jugyeong raised her fist as if she was about to hit the idol but he just laughed it off and left you two alone when he was hurried onto the set to start with his individual shoots.

“Have you known each other for a long time?” you couldn’t help but wonder as you were seated to get your makeup from her.

“Ah, almost 4 years, I think. We went to high school together. Plus, he’s best friends with my boyfriend. Though, they are always bickering like a married couple,” Jugyeong chuckled joyfully as she started with the cushion. You closed your eyes, listening as she kept going on about the time when Seojun had been obsessed with his motorbike, getting into trouble with his mother. It was strange hearing about a whole other side of him, mama's boy but the image tugged on your mouth, making you smile even though you weren't sure you had the right to know all that. You also learned that Seojun's sister was dating Jugyeong's brother and you felt so involved with the girl's trust albeit it was your last meeting, you were sure Seojun must have only told good things about you.

Hence, you felt shy under his knowing gaze when you walked out of the dressing room. He must have known that Jugyeong couldn't shut up for the life of her, so he looked a bit uncertain, too, stretching the back of his neck, forcing a cunning smile onto his smile when you took your place next to him.

To fit the ballad's theme, the setting was a piano decorated with flowers and you were instructed to sit beside him as if you were about to play a four hands piece. As you did what you had been told, you were very much aware of the way your arms brushed, his long fingers over the keys close to yours, his smile small but genuine.

"Great, great, guys! Someone help her onto the piano and Seojun, stand in front of her," the photographer directed the next scene but before any staff members would have rushed up to you, the singer next to you shushed them.

"I can do it," he insisted as he stood up and looked you in the eyes, silently asking for permission. You nodded while holding your breath back before Seojun put his hands on your waist above the fluffy tulle skirt part and counting on three, he lifted you onto the lid of the beautiful instrument.

You crossed your legs, watching in awe as your pink skirt fell down on waves  but your breath hitched for an entirely different reason when you looked up, gaze meeting Seojun's feline eyes trained on you. You had never seen him look at you like that, lacking playfulness or suspicion or curiosity. He looked open, vulnerable, outright starstruck. Your lips parted meaning to ask something but your brain shut off when you heard the shutter of the camera go down and the director yelling compliments at you. It made you snap out of it and later, you blamed the evident blush on your cheeks on the makeup. Seojun blinked too, his guarded expression back in no time, finishing the photo shoot professionally, always lingering close to you, but never touching you. Even though you wouldn’t have minded.

"Hey," Seojun peeked into your dressing room just as you were about to leave, packing up, with a smile on his mouth and sparkles in his deep brown eyes. But unlike half an hour ago when he wore a fancy suit and looked at you like a prince would have looked at his princess, he acted just as casual as he looked in his denim jacket over dark tee. "Wanna grab something with me if you finished for today?"

His question took you back but first thing first you glanced towards your manager, eyes begging for permission which you had gotten with a sigh.

"Just be discreet and call me if you need me to pick you up," your manager shrugged, leaving you two alone with a knowing look that told you to be careful. You didn't need to be told though, you knew how much depended on the current public response to your image.

"Seems like a green light. Have you thought of anything specific?" you turned back to the boy with a subtle smile.

"Not really but I know a few less frequent, secluded places to avoid much talk about us," he said and you nodded, following his lead. Masks, caps and hoodies on, you barely talk on your way to the tent with the lovely ahjumma who welcomed Seojun (two heads taller than her) with a pinch of his cheeks and told you to get seated.

"Are you a regular here?" you inquire, carefully pulling down your mask since not many people are around.

"You could say that," the boy hummed letting you adjust to the place at your own pace, not pressuring you with extra reassessments about how safe it is there. Yet, he is so casual as if he wasn't afraid of a getting mobbed by Dispatch out of the blue. Not that it happened to you a lot of times but you heard stories and at such a crucial time in your career, you feared something like that more than anything.

"Do you want to come up to mine instead?" Seojun blurted out suddenly which made you wide eyed in a span of a moment as you splattered out a surprised yelp. "Come on, I don't mean anything by it. You just look really nervous being in the public," the singer said, his deep voice softening, soothing by the end and you needed to take a breather before answering. You didn't think it was so obvious but apparently you had never been a good liar with him.

In the end, you decided on going over to Seojun's place, so he asked the ahjumma to pack your food to go and you headed towards his flat a few blocks from the company. It was a small but cozy place, much softer and brighter than you expected, lots of pastels and photos of friends and family. While the boy busied himself in the kitchen, getting you plates, chopsticks and beer, you were encouraged to look around and you couldn't help but smile at his photos with not only his band members but high school friends, too. You had seen photos of his graduation with Jugyeong, then another one of his debut with her and another guy.  He was a recurring person on a lot of pictures, so you assumed that he was the so-called Suho.

"He's Jugyeong's boyfriend," Seojun affirmed as he walked up to you which you acknowledged with a hum and smiled at his photos with his sister and mother. The makeup artist was right when she said he was only tough on the outside.

"You knew Seyeon?" you whispered as your gaze shifted of a picture of three boys smiling widely into the camera. The middle one was the talented boy you had known  from the news of his committed suicide. Such a tragedy.

"Uhum. We were best friends. Him, Suho and me," Seojun nodded and without having to ask, he told you how they had gotten to know each other, what were their favourite past time activities and how they fell apart when he died. You could see he was hurting even now as he was talking about it, so you grazed your fingers against his knuckles as though to say you were there for him to listen, or whatever he needed.

Talking about his best friends and how a group of guys including someone named Chorong stuck by his side over the years warmed your heart. It was nice to know that not everyone had it as lonely as you who basically missed out on high school and memories from that time to be able to turn your dreams into reality. Your only friends were also in the industry but it made things both easier and harder.

"What about you? What did you mean by this being your last chance?" Seojun asked like a loaded gun but after everything he had just told you, you knew you could trust him with this and being in the industry for a while now, he must have understood, too.

You told him about the rising expectations, about your image and your company's ultimatum. It actually felt nice to talk about with someone other than your manager. Especially since Seojun seemed to understand exactly why you felt conflicted over the matter. You have given your youth to this dream of yours, so giving up on it would have felt like betraying yourself and everyone who believed in you but you weren't sure you could give it another 10 years of your life no matter how much you liked music. You had decent CSATs result, maybe you could have applied for a university program. Seojun even offered to arrange a meeting between you and Suho who was studying to become a proper songwriter.

You talked for hours and ate the tteokbokki even though it had gotten cold long ago and you couldn't remember when was the last time you had felt so light. You felt giddy even with just the tiny bit of alcohol in your system by the time you knew it was time for you to go.

Once you had felt relieved knowing that promoting your duet would be only one performance but recently, you started dreading the moment because that meant that you wouldn't have any more excuse to see Seojun. In the backstage, this time around you greeted Jugyeong like an old friend and teased to give Seojun a funny makeup before walking up to your  own assigned staff members. Your look was full of sparkles and glow fitting the silver colour of your dress, completing the ethereal vibe off the stage you were going to do and the beautiful song you had grown to love so much you held it close to your heart. The last rehearsals went smoothly and if you noticed Seojun's gaze lingering a bit too long, you didn't comment on it.

"Are you nervous?" he asked before the final recording and you knew it would have been unreasonable to deny it, so you replied with a small smile.

"A bit."

"Don't be. You're pretty and you'll do amazing," he reassured you and the way he said those words oh so easy. As if they were natural. As if he believed in you and maybe this was all the reassurance you needed because when you walked up onto the stage, not taking your eyes off his, it felt like it was just the two of you there. All the stress about not being good enough, about being judged for who you were and what you wanted to do with your life was subsided as you focused on the moment, just to sing this one song with one while trying to fight your heart's crazy beating.

You didn't really have the luxury to have crushes. You had always been concentrated on your work, you couldn't let yourself have distractions, especially since love scandals always affected girl worse than guy. At least that was what you told yourself for always putting up a wall around you and guarding your heart all too well. But during the past few weeks, between playful or flirty remarks, between smiles and ruffling hair, Seojun took apart your wall brick by brick even if he wasn't aware.

So it might have been only a few days since you had last seen him but in that rare moment of boredom, alone in your room, you realized that you missed him. Hell, you liked him and the feeling made me want to scream into your pillow as if you were a silly teenager. As if on cue, your phone buzzed with a new message and seeing the KakaoTalk ID made you shy.

duet partner, han seo jun

so...

i've been thinking

you

sounds dangerous but ok

duet partner, han seo jun

don't get sassy with me, miss

you

what have you been thinking about?

duet partner, han seo jun

that i don't want to miss my chance

there's this girl i like

i thought of asking her out

do you think she would say yes?

you

oh. well... why wouldn't she?

i mean, you are talented, handsome, funny and reliable

duet partner, han seo jun

and what about my job? it's busy and a bit crazy

don't you think it would be unfair of me to ask?

you

I think you should let her decide that

duet partner, han seo jun

okay

are you free on friday?

you

um, sure?

duet partner, han seo jun

cool, then go on a date with me?

[honeybunnybeez]

Headed to where home is

♡Genre: A little angst with fluff

♡Au Setting: Dad!Schlatt AU, AU where the war doesn't exist but tensions are still high and relationships are rather strained.

♡Tubbo x Parental!GN!reader (with Tommy and Ranboo x Parental!GN!reader sprinkled in) (PLATONIC)

♡Format: Fanfiction

♡Summary: Sometimes there are days where things at home make Tubbo feel uncomfortable and unsafe, when those days come he's quick to walk over to your place. Today is one of those days.

♡WARNING: Alcoholic parent! Read more placed in case this is triggering to some.

The sound of glass shattering and cursing has Tubbo waking up in an instant. He can hear two voices yelling at each other, his father's and a random woman's, it's one of those nights again he supposes. He reaches for the clock resting on his bedside table, it's one in the morning.

Would you even be awake at this hour? Probably not, so Tubbo tries his best to fall back asleep as the arguing continues.

Tick tock

Tick tock

Tick tock

Tick-

Another glass is heard, shattering hard against a wall and Tubbo decides that yup, he's going over to your place. He'll break a window to get in if he has to, surely he knows you'll understand, he just... has to get away for a while.

He has a backpack filled with things he needs for his short trip over to your place. He's done this many times before, he just hasn't done it this late at night before. Vines lay waiting outside of his windows, his father never noticing how easy it is for him to slip away thanks to how drunk he always is when coming home from work. After landing on safe ground once more, he takes his time on his trip over to your place, sword out and communicator on stand by in case something goes south.

It was 1:30 by the time he left and 2:15 by the time he arrived, he was exhausted sure, but at least he felt safe and at peace away from where he was supposed to call home. Your cabin was just a few meters away and he was quick to jog on over as fast as his tired legs could muster.

Knock knock knock

No answer just yet.

Knock knock knock

Huh, you must really be asleep, well, it is past 2 am. He glances over to the window by the door, he doesn't really want to break in but if he has to then...

Knock knock knock

"(Y/n), please open up the door," he pleads quietly to himself.

Knock knock-

The door opens up much to his genuine surprised, however it isn't you who answers, but Tommy.

"Tubbo? What are you doing here so late at night?" Tommy asks while rubbing his eyes tiredly, behind him he can see you start to walk over, looking just as tired as Tommy but with worry apparent in your eyes.

"I'm sorry, (y/n), for visiting so late but can I stay here for the night? It uh, another woman's around again and-" you stop him before he could say another word, quickly ushering him inside.

"Hey, it's okay, you don't have to explain it if you don't want to," he feels relief wash over him at your words, thankful you aren't mad at him and that he doesn't have to explain himself. It just gets tiring and embarassing to mention what your dad is did that made you want to run away so badly.

"Tommy, bring Tubbo over to the living room, I'm gonna get extra blankets for him," Tommy simply yawns loudly as a reply and drags Tubbo by the hand over to the living room where a few thick comforters are already placed down for them to lay their sleeping bags on. In a corner, Tubbo can see Ranboo snoring away with an eye mask covering his eyes, the sight is rather funny with the silly design on the mask.

"Any idea why Ranboo came over?" Tubbo asks while Tommy crawls back into his sleeping bag.

"No idea, he got here before me, (y/n) told me not to wake him up either," once Tommy gets comfortable again, he aggressively pats the large empty spot beside him. "Sleeping bag, here, now, there's space. You're sleeping here."

Tubbo rolls his eyes but gets his sleeping bag out anyways, placing it where Tommy wants him to, "So clingy."

"Shut up," but there's no bite in Tommy's words as he slowly drifts back off to sleep.

You come back a while later, holding a few stacks of blankets for Tubbo and the others in case it got too cold for them later on in the early morning.

"You need anything else, Tubbo? A drink, maybe?" He shakes his head, he doesn't want to trouble you anymore than he already has and he knows where everything is if he ever did need something.

"It's okay, (y/n), thank you," you nod and get ready to head back upstairs to your bedroom but before you can do so, Tubbo calls out your name. "Wait, there is one thing..."

You can only cock your head a little to the side, confused until you feel Tubbo wrap his arms around you, hugging you tight. It takes you a while to react, still a little sleepy, but you return his gesture back with no problem, hugging him just as tight.

"...Thank you, (y/n)..."

When he pulls away you lazily ruffle his hair a bit, smiling as you do so, "Hey, you never have to thank me for things like these, I just want you three feel safe."

Safe, yeah, he feels safe here, much safer than back at his father's place. Tommy, Ranboo and you are here to make him feel like everything's going to be okay and everything does feel okay.

"You sleep well, alright? I'll be up in my room if you ever need me," Tubbo nods and thanks you once more before heading over to where the other boys are. As he crawls into his sleeping bag he notices how quiet everything is besides Tommy's brief mumblings and Ranboo's snoring, it's the kind of quiet that feels familiar to him and helps him relax. He feels his eyes start to droop as he gets drowsier and drowsier with each passing second, he finally feels like its safe enough to sleep.

Finally, he's home.

A/N: Hello! I'm sorry for writing this little fic, I was having incredible writer's block and needed some sort of hurt comfort. This is based off one of the headcanons I wrote involving a parental reader. Definitely not one of my best works but I still hope you all enjoyed reading it!

(Requests are open and anon is on!)

[therenlover]

The Boy With The Easel (A Young Artist!Helmut Zemo x Reader Oneshot)

(Hey! If you end up enjoying this fic, it’s the first chronological part of a new fun expanded AU I’ve created with @creme-bruhlee​! Their fic Bliss is part of the same timeline and takes place about a year after this one, so you should check it out!!!)

Synopsis: About a month into your first semester at Novi Grad’s top university, you finally meet the strange young man that you’ve taken to calling “easel boy” in the back of a bookshop. From a distance, he always seemed cold and aloof. As you get to know him, though, you realize things aren’t always what they seem.

Tags: Meet Cute, College AU, First Meetings, Coffee Date, Artist!Zemo, Embarrassment, Awkward College Kids Falling In Love

Rating: T

Warnings: Very Vague Mention of Sexual Content, Swearing, Zemo Says The Word Daddy In Reference To His Father and The Reader Thinks It’s Kinda Hot

Word Count: 7000~

This fic has been crossposted to my AO3!

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                                    The University of Novi Grad

                                                 Fall 1996

Mornings in Novi Grad could be beautiful if you knew what to look for.

Sokovia was… different from America in many ways. From the language to the scenery, you often found yourself adrift in the strangeness of it all. There had been nothing quite as old as the buildings in the historical district of Novi Grad back home, no towering grey behemoths serving as a reminder of a bygone fight against Soviet invasion in the memories of your childhood. Still, though, there was beauty in the strangeness nonetheless.

From your tiny room in the Helena Lyudmila International Scholar’s dorm, for instance, you had a perfect view of a large campus courtyard hosting a statue of the donor by the same name. She was some royal who had invested in education a few hundred years ago, and by the looks of her metal likeness, she had been quite pretty. The sight of her shining in the early morning sun was one of the things that made uprooting your whole life seem worth it in the end, no matter how silly that seemed.

There were other small comforts that you had found beauty in during your first month attending your prestigious university, too.

You found beauty in the way the sunlight streamed over the rooftops like the opening to an Oscar-winning film. In the sound of traffic below and the overcast skies above. Sandwiches from corner stores, wildflowers growing in the median of the road, cups of the worlds best black coffee served steaming by scowling attendants at the cafe; Everywhere there was something small and kind and just familiar enough to relish in, more than able to distract you from the stress of living hand-to-mouth in a country where you didn’t even know the language. It made it all worth it.

That being said there was something else too…

Someone else to be specific.

The campus tended to run like clockwork. The same groups of students would walk past your window to their classes, the same professors would get their coffee and lunch at the little cafe across the square, and every weekday morning at 8 am on the dot, easel boy would set up his palette and canvas and paint the same bustling street.

He was talented, that you couldn’t deny. Even from the 6th floor, which was a considerable distance away, it was possible to admire the detailing and consistency with which he painted. His talent wasn’t when kept you captive at your window in the morning, though. Though you were sure his art was beautiful, he himself was a thousand times more stunning.

All dark eyes and dark hair and dark clothes, he parted crowds with his piercing gaze alone. He was always dressed like the protagonist of some awful artsy film. Massive argyle sweaters, untucked button-ups, corduroy jackets, and flare bottomed pants that must have survived his father’s wardrobe from the ’70s… his style was as close you could get to atrocious while still being impeccable as possible, and that wasn’t even getting started on the smudged black liner always present under his persistent gaze. You had never had the pleasure (or embarrassment for that matter) of meeting him in person, but you were sure that you would have had the same awed and slightly frightened reaction if you ever did. He could have been plucked entirely from the pages of some awful romance novel.

You were well and truly smitten with the idea of him.

If you looked at your morning routine through the eyes of a stranger, you’d consider yourself odd for your strange obsession with him, but you didn’t look at it like that. It wasn’t an obsession. You never overstepped your bounds. He was simply pleasing to look at and so you did. That didn’t constitute as obsessive, right?

Even if it did, you weren’t causing any harm.

Easel boy, as you had come to refer to him, was simply a tool you used to ground yourself in your new and frightening environment. Nothing more. If you ever met him, you would surely hate him from the short interactions you’d seen him have with strangers. They never ended well. He would remain an unattainable, attractive ideal in your mind until he eventually faded away into a funny memory you’d share with your kids one day.

Until then, though, you would watch him from your window before your morning classes and refused to feel guilty about it. So, that was that, no ifs, ands, or buts about it.

On the morning in question, you had woken up a little late and in a foul mood. In preparation for a test in your foundations of algebra course you had spent the better part of the night pouring over formulas while your upstairs neighbor’s bed slammed repeatedly into the wall and floor. Though you were sure they were having an excellent time, you were most definitely not. It all culminated in you missing your original alarms and despite the fact that your first class started at 10, you were exhausted, furious, and not looking forward to missing breakfast to finish the assigned reading you had put off the night before. The only thing keeping you from throwing in the towel and just giving up was the promise of seeing the painter.

So, when he arrived for the day at 8 am sharp, you were positioned at the ledge by your window, textbook in hand with a mug of instant coffee at your right. It was like a breath of fresh air.

As usual, he retrieved a small pack of cigarettes from the back of his eternally paint-stained jeans only to bring one to his lips and light it quickly. He always smoked before he worked, and just like always, he took an extra cigarette from the pack to tuck behind his ear for later. Then, he got to work setting up his easel and the small stool where he set his palette.

Pulling tubes of acrylic, brushes, and pencils from his well-worn messenger bag, easel boy flipped out the kickstand without any problem and set his thick, pre-primed canvas on the worn metal. You watched in fascination. Art had always seemed so unattainable to you. Instead, you were drawn to the more academic. The man before you, though, created beauty with an ease that had evaded you all your life, and it had you both jealous and entirely intrigued. Slowly, you reached down to take a sip of your coffee as you let your eyes drift back to your reading.

Learning about ancient Babylon was far less interesting than watching him, though.  

When you next looked out the window and away from your work the handsome artist had created his base sketch already. How did he do it so fast? You assumed it was practice. He had been drawing the same 3 buildings every weekday morning for at least a month, so after a while, it must have been second nature to measure out the lines and put things into perspective. You smiled. He tended to have that effect on you.

The process was repeated until a little before 9:30. You would read a few paragraphs then look up to watch the painting progress from a sketch to a full-fledged work of art. It was good today from what you could see. The colors were a bit more muted than usual, but that was only on account of the awful, dreary overcast sky that threatened to dump rain on the city at any time. Overall, you would have considered it a masterpiece. Easel boy didn’t seem to think the same.

He regarded the painting with a sort of begrudging satisfaction that bordered on disappointment before he pulled the second cigarette from behind his ear, lit it, and began the process of packing up his materials. You finished the last of your coffee watching him do so. Smoking, well, smoking tobacco at least, had always been a vice you had avoided and yet you often wondered what it would feel like to take a drag of one of his cigarettes after it had been between his lips. Then, the magic lifted.

He folded up the flimsy easel, tucked it away with his materials back into his messenger bag, hoisted the stool under one arm and the painting under the other before taking off at a brisk clip down the street away from your window. You watched him until he was out of sight.

You were snapped from your concentration by a knock at your door.

“Y/N,” a heavily accented voice called, sending you scrambling for your bag, “If you are not outside in the next 15 seconds I will break down your door,”

Shit.

“Coming, Sasha!” You wailed. It took about 10 of those seconds to grab your backpack and shove your textbook inside, an extra 2 to check your appearance in the mirror- you looked slightly disheveled, but it was the best you were gonna do after the night you’d had. Besides, it wasn’t like you were doing anything important. You didn’t need to be dressed for a date -and you were opening the door for a quick save at the 14th second. Your door was safe for another day.

Out in the hall waited Sasha Balandin, arms crossed and grey eyes piercing in the flickering light of the terrible overhead fluorescents. As a fellow international student, you had become fast friends with Sasha. He was a little rough around the edges, and definitely didn’t take your bullshit, but he was a rare friend. “I have been waiting for 10 minutes,” he griped. You tried your best to look apologetic. “Don’t do that,”

“Do what?” You asked, closing and locking your door behind you as you began walking down the hallway.

Sasha huffed. “Do not pretend you were not too busy ogling that painter in the courtyard to hear me knocking on your door,” His Russian bluntness was on full display now as you shook your head in mock disbelief.

“I can’t believe you’d accuse me of something like that!”

“It is not an accusation if it is true,”

“There’s no way you know for a fact that I was watching him again,”

“But you were. This happens every week,”

You sighed, pausing at the top of the stairs. “I was,”

Taking the stairs in twos, Sasha sighed. “You are too soft, Y/N. Besides, you have said so often that he seems like an asshole. Why do you continue to get all mushy at him out the window if this is the case?”

“Because… well, because…” for a moment, you floundered in search of an answer that wouldn’t make you sound like a complete freak, but you found that there really wasn’t one. It came down the one small factor. “He’s just really hot, okay?”

The look Sasha gave you could have killed. He kept his mouth shut, though, choosing to let his silence shame you more than anything else did. It worked. For the entire trip down the stairs and the mile-long walk to your lecture hall, you felt the weight of shame heavy on your shoulders. Or maybe it was just your backpack. You didn’t know which you’d prefer. He did start speaking again eventually, going on about some party you had missed in favor of studying, but the feeling never left. Even as you sat down for your lecture it was still at the forefront of your mind. In fact, you were so busy thinking about your crush on easel boy and the problems with it that you barely paid attention to the professor’s rehashing of the Epic of Gilgamesh.

Your error only hit when the professor flipped the PowerPoint to the final slide.

“Before you go, I want to remind you that you have a paper on the importance of Enkidu in the Epic is due at the beginning of class this Friday. The details and requirements should be listed in your syllabus. Class dismissed,”

Fuck.

Friday was only two days away.

You were so screwed.

The problem was, you didn’t have a spare copy of the Epic of Gilgamesh just lying around your dorm room. Usually that wouldn’t have been an issue, the professor for your current history course used English for her slide because her particular history course was specifically for first-year international students. Unfortunately for you, though, you hadn’t been taking notes. Instead, you had been daydreaming about how it would feel to have easel boy blow his cigarette smoke in your face and then subsequently scolding yourself for having thoughts like that about a total stranger. In a terrible twist of fate, the professor only held office hours after her last classes on Mondays and Fridays, so even getting the information from her then was off the table. Dread began to pool in your stomach.

Any other student would have been able to cut their losses, rent a copy from the library, slog through it in a night, and write the damn essay even without the help of the classroom slides for context. The only problem was all the books in the library were in Sokovian, and you still barely knew how to order a coffee correctly. Reading the language in a full Cyrillic alphabet would just be impossible, especially for a book as stupidly old as the Epic of Gilgamesh.

In short, unless you could get your hands on a copy in the next day or so, you were absolutely, well-and-truly fucked.

Sasha was quick to find you as the hall cleared out, waiting near your seat as you packed away your notes. “That was all bullshit, no?” He asked, but the second he took in your slightly panicked expression he stopped short, pinching the bridge of his nose and breathing deeply. You knew what he was going to say before he ever said it.

“Something is wrong. You were not paying attention. Were you thinking-”

“Yes. Okay? Yes, I was thinking about him,”

He shook his head slightly. “I am concerned for you,”

“Who isn’t?”

Despite his usually stoic demeanor, that made Sasha huff out a soft laugh. “You got yourself into this mess, Y/N, you will get yourself out somehow,”

Your jaw dropped as you slung your bag over your shoulder and started making your way towards the door. “You’re not gonna help me?”

“Though I would love to be helpful, you forget that my English is poor. It will do me better to read the book in Sokovian myself than to use the information from class,”

Oh, yeah. You winced. “Sorry, Sash’”

“Nothing to be sorry for,” he shrugged as you walked out onto the lawn, chilled to the bone by the wind that whipped in every direction.

A storm was brewing. It might not fully take hold of the city for a few hours yet, but it would make the walk to your evening class absolute hell if the rain fell as hard as it had several weeks prior. You could only hope that it wouldn’t start until after you had walked home. Your odds were looking slim, though, based on the way you could already hear thunder clapping in the distance. After a moment you hit the edge of the sidewalk where your paths would diverge.

“Good luck with the paper,” you offered weakly.

Sasha replied with a sharp, “Good luck with your crush,” and then he was off in the opposite direction without another word. Sasha was blunt like that, never overstaying his welcome or lingering when he didn’t need to. There was something enviable about it. What you wouldn’t give to be able to simply say things as they were without an unnecessary sugar coating to save face and spare feelings. It lingered on your mind for the whole half-mile walk to the campus bookstore. Speaking of which...

There was only one place where you might possibly find an English copy of the Epic of Gilgamesh. It wasn’t the big student bookstore, most of the textbooks there had been in Sokovian, Russian, or German and you hadn’t even tried to set foot in their actual book section. No, your only hope was the tiny hole-in-the-wall bookstore you had stumbled upon during move-in. It was only about half a mile away from your dorm from any of your lecture halls, so you often found yourself wandering inside when you had time to kill. They were one of the only stores you’d come across that sold anything in English, magazines included, so despite the fact that the young cashiers rarely spoke your language you often found that the back shelves of that tiny shop kept you from going mad.

Now, they might also be keeping you from ruining your GPA.

You could only hope. If anybody could save you, it was them.

Ducking in through the small doorway, you were greeted by the soft ring of the bell above your head. The attendant at the register simply regarded you with a polite nod. You had seen her there before and she knew you barely spoke a lick of Sokovian, so she didn’t attempt a pleasantry. Instead, she simply let you wander through the entrance and into the towering bookshelves, passing a few other faceless shoppers on your way towards the back. You were grateful for her nonchalance.

If there was anything worse than feeling foolish for not knowing Sokovian, it was being talked down to in perfect English by a Sokovian citizen. Most interactions left you wishing you’d actually taken anything away from your high school French class other than emotional trauma from your teacher and a caffeine addiction. Damn America and its terrible public-school language programs…

The path to the English classics section was one you’d walked many times since discovering the book store. It was right in the very back corner of the shop, tucked away where the city natives wouldn’t have to address or see it. You had snagged a copy of Pride and Prejudice a few weeks back, so you knew exactly where to search. The only problem was slogging through every single book on the shelf in search of the one you were looking for.

Your eyes scanned the wall.  

Gilgamesh, Gilgamesh, Gilgamesh…

Gilgamesh!

On the 6th shelf up sat one small copy. Score! You were saved! As you reached up to grab it, though, you were met with yet another roadblock. The shelf it was on was juuuust a little too high for you to reach. Oh, come on…

You hopped a little, extending your hand up as far as it could go, but your fingers just barely brushed the spine. Somewhere behind you, you could hear footsteps. Then someone coughed to suppress laughter. The shame was plain on your face. As your flannel rode up and you stretched up in one last desperate attempt to grab the book when suddenly someone, you assumed the same person who had been laughing at your misfortune, spoke.

“They have stools, you know,” he said, accented voice thick with amusement. The English surprised you, but you assumed they used it for your benefit. You were in front of the English language books after all. Besides, the shame of it all kept your mind from questioning it too much. “For reaching the top shelf,”

Of course they had stools.

If your face hadn’t already been burning with embarrassment it definitely was now.

In a split-second decision, you decided playing dumb was the only way you could walk out of the situation with any dignity left at all, so you plastered on a confused smile and spun around to greet the stranger. “Really? I had no cl-”

You stopped short.

Oh.

Oh no.

You’d know those paint-stained jeans anywhere.

There, with his hands in his pockets and the most self-important, thin-lipped smirk you had ever seen, was easel boy in all of his cocky, intimidating, hot glory. Had you really noticed how hot he truly was before? It didn’t feel like it. Not now that you’d really seen him close up and reveled in the way his dark eyes hypnotized you with their smudged liner that felt borderline obscene. You could smell him too, all charcoal and turpentine and cigarette smoke. If you had it bad before when he was just a blurry ideal out your window, you were completely and utterly smitten now.

He regarded you with a sort of practiced annoyance, and yet there was a strange softness to it that you hadn’t found in many native Sokovians, especially ones that saw you as the stupid, bumbling American wandering blindly around their country.

“Would you like my help?”

“Huh?” You were so lost in his eyes that you couldn’t even focus on his question.

“To reach your book. Would you like my help?”

“Oh!” With a brisk nod, you stepped away from the shelf to make room for easel boy, “yeah, I’m just trying to grab that one there. The, uh, Epic of Gilgamesh,”

In one swift movement, he was stepping right beside you to easily reach up and grab the offending piece of literature. The closeness of it all nearly sent you into a tailspin. That wasn’t even mentioning the way your heart thudded just a little faster when he finally handed the book to you, his calloused fingers brushing against your own. You barely find a grip on your brain strong enough to thank him through the fog of embarrassment and attraction. Eventually, though, you managed to choke out a placation as your eyes explored the cover of the book.

“Thanks for that,”

“It was no problem,” he shrugged. He didn’t move though, still standing just inches away from you. When you looked up from the book you found his eyes were still on you, watching intently as if he expected something from you. The answer to what he actually expected was a mystery but you could tell he wanted something. When you didn’t speak, he spoke for you. “So, The Epic of Gilgamesh? That’s definitely a bold choice,”

You looked up at him sheepishly through heavily lidded eyes. “It’s not a choice at all, actually. I’m only buying it so I can write an essay,”

“Ah,” Something about his tone was almost disappointed as the conversation stalled.

You quickly changed the subject to the first thing you could think of.

“Your hair is really nice!”

“My hair?”

“Yeah… your hair,”

Smooth move, dumbass.

Easel boy’s expression seemed to soften once more as his signature grin crept back onto his face. “Thank you, I grew it myself,” Between his accent and the way he was looking at you like he was going to eat you alive, you weren’t exactly sure how you hadn’t had a heart attack yet. Still, the attention was nice, even if it was bourne out of you repeatedly embarrassing yourself in a never-ending cycle of fuckups. He ran a hand through his loose brown hair. “I like your shirt. Very American,”

Silently, you cursed yourself for not taking a few extra seconds to pick out a better outfit when you woke up. Standing next to him, even while he was dressed in his paint-stained jeans and undone button-up, you looked like a wreck in comparison. He didn’t seem to be speaking from a place of judgment, though.

If you didn’t know better, you’d think he was being nice, but that couldn’t be the case… could it?

“Maybe it’s just that I haven’t met very many Sokovians that are fond of America, but I’m not sure if that was meant to be a compliment or an insult,” You joked. It was a bit sarcastic, the lilt of your voice masking your deep insecurity, and to your surprise easel boy laughed. He really laughed. From your place beside him, you could almost feel the warmth radiating off of him as he shook his head.

“It was definitely a compliment,”

Oh.

Your heart skipped a beat.

That was a new revelation.

You steeled yourself with a deep breath. Fuck it. It was now or never.

“I, uh… I’m Y/N, and you are?”

He regarded you once again with that strange expression of expectation. “What?”

“I asked for your name,” you repeated, and yet he still stood, slightly dumbfounded, staring down at you with that same expectant expression from earlier. For a moment, you almost thought he expected you to know it already. That fact was quickly glossed over when he moved to rub the back of his neck with his hand, eyes drifting down to the floor.

“Sorry,” he chuckled, “I’m not very good with people. My father thought college might help me finally connect with my peers, but I don’t think he expected that I was the problem, nor do I think he expected me to pick a degree in the arts,” Suddenly, he paused and stuck out his hand to you. “I’m Hel. It’s very nice to meet you Y/N,”

With only a moment of hesitation- because wow, your name had never sounded more right on someone’s lips -you took his large calloused hand in your own and shook it gently. His palm was warm, his fingers lingering on your own for just a moment even as he pulled away. It wasn’t much, just a soft brush against your flesh, but it sent a flash of heat and liquid confidence through your chest.

“Is that short for something?” Your eyes met his in the soft yellow glow of the overhead lamps. Seeing him like this, so up close and personal, he looked a lot more human than he had from your window. Sure, he was imposing. Underneath the initial harsh facade, though, was something softer and almost poetic. You weren’t an artist by any means but if you had been, you had no doubt that he’d be your muse.

“It’s short for Helmut, but only my father calls me that, and only when he’s cross, which, unfortunately, is most of the time,” he chuckled, “Besides, it’s an old man’s name. It doesn’t suit me,”

The words left your mouth before you knew what you were saying.

“Well, it’s better than calling you easel boy,”

Shit.

Today really just wasn’t your day, huh?

In the split second where you were mourning your chances with the most stupidly handsome guy who had ever shown any interest in you, you almost missed the way Helmut’s eyes lit up at the admission.

“Easel boy?” His voice was teasing, but not demeaning. That didn’t do much to ease your mortification, though.

“Is there any chance that I can get you to forget I said anything?”

“If you already have a nickname for me when we’ve barely met, I think you already know the answer to that question,”

His knowing smirk was enough to get you pleading. “You can’t just let me off the hook this once?” you begged, scrubbing a hand across your forehead in a desperate attempt to get away from his piercing gaze. The things those brown eyes did to you could be classified as obscene… “I will genuinely do anything if you don’t make me explain myself right now Hel,”

Hel quirked up an eyebrow. “Anything?” The way your stomach turned at just one word from him was both terrifying and extremely exciting. It felt like a promise. Without hesitation, you nodded. That made him smile. “In that case, get coffee with me today?”

Once again, you were rendered speechless.

“My treat,” he added, “unless you’re not interested…”

“No!” Your answer left your lips embarrassingly fast, “Or- yes? No, no, I think I meant no. No; I am very interested. Yes; I would like to get coffee with you,” There was a hint of shame in your words, but only a hint. After the day you’d had already, there wasn’t very much there to be ashamed of. Still, that same pit of dread began to open up in your stomach as you mulled over your choices.

Thankfully, Helmut continued to take it all in stride. “Wonderful! Is there anything else you’d like to do here before we go? It’s best we leave soon if we want to beat the rain,” He offered up his arm as he spoke like some sort of Disney prince. It was, by far, the cutest gesture you had ever been lucky enough to receive.

You linked your arm with his without hesitation. “As soon as I pay we can get going,” He was warm. It radiated off him in waves just like the warm hints of tobacco and wintermint that seemed to seep from his skin and clothes. With that, you made your way to the front desk as Hel shot you a sly smile.

“Who said anything about letting you pay?”

True to his word, he didn’t let you pay for a single thing for the rest of the afternoon.

The two of you made your way up to the cashier together, and Helmut only separated from your side to grab his wallet before you could grab yours. He then spoke in rapid-fire Sokovian to the lady at the register and pulled what could only be described as a wad of Sokovian koronas while you set the book on the counter, and from the looks of it, she seemed more than pleased with the two of you. Who wouldn’t be, especially when Hel seemed to insist that she keep the excess? In the end, after the book had been wrapped nicely in a paper bag and deposited in your backpack, Helmut held the door open for you like some sort of gentleman and followed you out into the grey afternoon.

Then, you were off down the street on Hel’s arm, pushing through the wind and the biting chill that had settled in the air.

“So, you don’t sound like a big fan of your dad,” you asked, half laughing as you attempted to broach conversation once again.

Helmut groaned beside you. “My father is a menace who is unable to understand that some people want more in life than to sit behind a desk all day making phone calls. In fact, most of my family is the same way. The only reason I haven’t completely cut them off and changed my name is the money,”

“I assume you get a lot of it if it’s worth sticking around someone you hate so much,”

“Never ask a man about his net worth,” he chuckled, gently elbowing you in the ribs, “but yes, I’m very comfortable. I have my own apartment just far enough away to be considered off-campus with my own car and as much money as it takes to keep me happy and getting good grades; Daddy makes sure of that,” The word daddy was a deep sneer, barely there in the wind, but something about it sent butterflies through your stomach. Well, that was never something you thought you were into… “Little does he know, I’m not here to make money. I’m here to find inspiration worth my time while out from under his thumb,”  

You snorted softly. “Artistic and rich? You’re just ticking all the boxes, Hel,”

“Good for me. Would offering help on that essay of yours endear you to me further?”

“Absolutely,”

The next 5 minutes you spend discussing the Epic of Gilgamesh. Surprisingly, in one of the first stokes of good luck you’d had all day, Helmut seemed to be one of the only people on earth who knew plenty about Enkidu off the top of his head. When he was the one lecturing you in his smooth, heavily accented timbre it was so much easier to pay attention to something so very tedious than when you heard it from your aging and often monotone professor. In fact, you were so enthralled by his retelling of the tale that you barely noticed you’d made it all the way to the cafe that sat across from the international dorm.

If you didn’t consider Hel to be smart as a whip and twice as clever as he was smart, you would have thought it was a coincidence. It couldn’t be though. No, there was no way anything was a coincidence with Helmut around. You shot him a smile when he opened the door for you and ushered you inside.

“You know Hel,” you muttered, “I’m starting to think you might know more about me than you initially let on,”

He shrugged. “You’re American, so it’s unlikely you live anywhere else and I wanted to make the walk home easy. It’s supposed to rain, you know? Besides, despite the… interesting waitstaff, they make the best pastries in town right here in this cafe,”

“Did you mean it when you said you were paying?”

“Absolutely,”

“Then I can’t wait to try one,”

The two of you were seated quickly (you assumed it had to do with the waitress finding Hel as hot as you did, because you caught her looking at him from behind the counter and whispering excitedly in Sokovian to her coworker at least twice over the course of the meal) and the conversation flowed easily as you waited on your coffees and the deserts Helmut insisted on splitting to let you try. Millefeuille, pear tart tatin, chocolate devil’s food cake, and a towering plate of apricot kołaczki awaited you, and they kept you sitting and talking and snacking for over an hour as you really got to know each other. The more you learned, the more you fell in love with the man across from you.

Over the course of the afternoon, you learned that Helmut was majoring in studio art while minoring in psychology just because it interested him, he hated the Beatles almost as much as he hated Freud’s theories on women, his favorite color was purple, and he spent most of his free time reading or getting high off his ass in his massive studio apartment in what you now knew was one of the most expensive areas in the city. He, in return, sat at rapt attention across the table as you gushed about your life in America, your reasons for going to university in Sokovia, your favorite books, and the ridiculousness that was trying to pass college-level classes in a country that seemed to avoid English at all costs.

Eventually, though, you did touch upon his nickname.

“I just thought it was really interesting that you did the same thing every single day, no matter what,” you explained, grabbing one of the last kołaczki from the plate and ignoring the powdered sugar that stuck to your fingers, “and by watching you… I don’t know, I guess it kind of felt like I had another friend who’d share breakfast with me in the morning if that makes sense,”

Hel nodded, swallowing his last bite of chocolate cake. “I understand completely. It can be lonely, coming to a new place without any friends or connections, but you were brave enough to take the leap. I admire that,” He brought his napkin to his lips before crumpling it and setting it one of the now empty plates before him, “But I can’t say I’m not a little disappointed that you didn’t watch me because I’m attractive,”

You nearly choked on your pastry. “Well, I wouldn’t say your pretty face didn’t help…”

The grin that spread across his face was heartstopping. He grabbed a napkin from the little holder next to the two of you and grabbed a pen from one of his pockets as he spoke. “In that case, you should join me tomorrow morning. Bring coffee if you can, I never have enough hands to bring a cup for myself, but even if you can’t bring some, if you want to come and watch me work I’d be more than happy to have a companion for the morning,” he paused for a moment, flustered, “or every morning, for that matter,”

“That sounds like a deal,” Your cheeks were hot, but not from embarrassment this time. No, it was anything but, because here you were across the table from a kind, attractive, intelligent Sokovian boy with money to spend and time to spare for you. You couldn’t help but feel a little bit proud too. He wanted you back, after all. You could see it in the way his eyes lingered on you just a little longer than he should, and even more plainly in the way he wrote his phone number in bold blue ink on the napkin and signed it with a doodle of a heart before passing it across the table to you.

“I’m going to go pay,” he said quietly while standing, “but I’ll be back in a second to walk you out. Alright?”

“Alright,”

There was something strangely similar to sorrow sitting in your chest when you watched him walk away. The sight of his ass as he went made up for it, though. Once he was obstructed by other patrons, you turned your attention to the napkin in your hands. Hel’s handwriting was neat as far as artists’ handwriting goes, but it still held a sort of looseness in its curves, a freedom in the way the numbers had flowed effortlessly from his pen. You popped the last kołaczki in your mouth as you admired the blue ink before devouring the final bites of pear tart and millefeuille. How had you gotten so lucky to have someone like him giving you his number and buying you pastries? You pondered the bizarre nature of it all until Helmut returned.

You stood quickly, folding the napkin and putting it away in your pocket. “Ready to go?”

“If you are,” he replied. In an instant, you were standing beside him again as he opened the door for you. The wind was even stronger now, strong enough that his loose hair whipped wildly around his forehead from the force of it. You couldn’t help but giggle at his appearance.

He caught you off guard as he walked you across the street. “You have such a pretty laugh,”

It was like you were seeing him again for the first time. You fiddled with the strap of your backpack as you got closer and closer to the door to your dorm. “Thanks. I’m pretty fond of your laugh too,”

Then, you were there, just two college kids standing awkwardly before your first departure.

“So,” you said before you could stop yourself, “when I tell my one friend all about this afternoon after my math class tonight, should I say it was a date?”

Hel’s cheeks flushed pink. “You can call it that, if that’s what you would like it to have been,”

“I think I would,”

“Good, good,” he let out a little chuckle, “I’m glad. Would you… would you consider going on another? I promise I have much more to offer than just small talk and tips on where to buy the best pastries,”

Looking into his brown eyes, so full of uncertainty and hope, you knew you couldn’t have denied him even if you wanted to. Still, you weren’t going to give in to his advances without a little bit of taunting. It made it fun, a game to be played where, hopefully, you both would win big in the end.

“That depends,” you teased, letting your lower lip catch between your teeth, “what do you have in mind?”

Helmut shoved his hands into his pockets as he rocked back and forth on his heels, pensive. “If you want to, we could go to my place and I could actually show you all of the paintings I’ve been working on while you watched me. The view from the rooftop is lovely too. We could have dinner up there while looking out over Novi Grad. I have to warn you, though, it’ll probably be takeout. I’m an atrocious chef,”

Slowly, a brilliant smile spread across your face. “Does Friday work?”

The smile Helmut shot back was as bright as every star in the night sky and even more enthralling. “Friday is perfect. Can I pick you up at 7?”

“As long as you come in that fancy car you were talking about,”

“Then it’s a deal,”

“Well,” you turned away, walking up the steps towards the door before turning back to him, “I’ll see you tomorrow morning, Hel, and I’ll bring coffee. Have a good night,”

“You too, Y/N. Parting is such sweet sorrow and all that,”

With that, he gave one last short wave before turning on his heel and pulling out a cigarette from the pack in his pocket. You watched him walk away until he turned the corner and disappeared from view. Only then did you enter the punch code and race up the stairs to your room.

Your back was pressed to the door of your dorm room the second you had shut it, your hands clutching at your chest in a desperate attempt to keep your heart from beating right out of your ribs. The second you were in the privacy of your own place, your cool facade had melted away to reveal just how much of a wreck you really were.

He had invited you over to his apartment.

He liked you.

Easel boy really, honestly liked you.

No, not easel boy. Helmut. Hel.

Hel liked you, and he invited you over to his apartment, and you had plans to meet him with coffee as he painted the next morning.

You smiled softly under the fluorescent lights and pulled the book that had brought you together from your backpack. It seemed so unassuming now, just a fresh paperback with an unbroken spine, but in reality, it was so much more than that.

Hel.

It was such a nice name. You liked it a lot.

Now you couldn’t wait to see what else you liked about him too.

------

a/n: I have been so excited to start sharing this AU with you guys, and it’s finally here!!! If you liked this fic, I once again will direct you to Bliss by @creme-bruhlee​ because that’s technically next in chronological order for this AU. I hope you enjoyed!!!

TAGLIST: @tatestripedsweater , @elaineygrace, @multiyfandomgirl40 ,  @lovelymischief , @rami-malek-trash , @avgravy , @wh0re-4-techno , @forcebros , @sugarsweetkiss , @grandmuffinsharkbailiff , @killsandthrills , @novasstudy , @thnksfr-ptrkstmp , @inmate-marmalade, @alanathedeer , @your-pixels-are-showing , @shit-post-things , @bbarton​ , @sux-ubus , @halefirewarrior , @janelongxox , @rax-writes , @mossybank​ , @simsiddy​ , @xxspqcebunsxx​ , @be-cautious-around-bri​ , @metaphorical-love-for-a-car​ , @frothonthedaydreams​