#especially considering they are Not Doing Too Well Right Now.

[mariasont]

Laced With Love - A.H

summary: while hotch is away on a case, you do nothing but shop, and when hotch insists you use his card who are you to disobey him? especially when what you buy benefits the both of you

masterlist

pairings: aaron hotchner x bimbo!assistant!reader

warnings: 18+ MDNI, reader spending hotch's money (it's giving sugar daddy af), so much teasing, fingering, oral fem receiving, hotch worshipping reader, some inappropriate comments made in front of morgan accidentally, they both just completely forget about dinner and don't mention so ya know my bad, dirty talk, soft dom hotchy poo

wc: 3.5k

You had a little problem.

It all started innocently enough: one coffee to-go, a quick window shop in your favorite boutique, and somehow that led to you walking out with a bag containing the most adorable pair of heels that you couldn't leave behind. Then it snowballed—another store, another bag. A perfume counter. A cute sweater that was on sale, and, well, that one really didn't count because it was practical. It was warm. Functional, even.

Okay maybe you had a big problem.

But it wasn't until your phone buzzed in your bag, pulling you out of a deep debate over whether you needed the floral dress you were holding, that you realized just how many bags were hanging off your arms.

Mr. Bossman flashed across the screen.

The name was completely ridiculous (and more than a little outdated now that he was your boyfriend), but it fit in a weird, nostalgic way. He'd been away on one of those long-distance cases, the kind where you weren't needed, and you'd been counting the days (and minutes) until he'd call. 

You grabbed your phone so fast you almost dropped the dress.

"Hi!" you answered, a little too quickly, your voice so giddy and sugar-sweet it could've given you a toothache. He always teased you for it, but right now you didn't care.

"Hi." His voice was warm, a little rough around the edges with exhaustion. "Just wanted to call and let you know I'll be home tonight."

Your heart practically leapt at his words. "Really? Finally! I thought I was going to shrivel up and die from boredom without you here. Okay, maybe not die, but like... what's the point of anything if you're not home to tell me I bought too many candles?"

"I'm not sure how you've lasted this long," he said. "Should I be worried about the state of the house? Or your bank account?"

"First of all, rude. Second of all, if you are so worried, maybe you shouldn't leave me alone for that long. Ever thought of that, Mr?"

His laugh came through the line, short and deep, and it hit you square in the chest. You closed your eyes, leaning into the sound like it could somehow bring him closer. You could see him so clearly--the way his face softened in a way that made him look ten years younger, the way his shoulders would drop, the way his eyes would crinkle. You missed him so much it hurt.

"Poor thing," he teased, still chuckling softly. "What's a girl to do when I'm not there entertain her? Besides spend my money, I mean."

"Don't worry, Aaron, your money is perfectly safe. My super respectable paycheck—you know, the one you sign—is covering me today."

"Hmm," he said, his voice still muffled. "Sounds like your boss is paying you too much."

"I don't know... I think you're getting a pretty good deal considering I keep you very taken care of. Would you like me to prove it later?"

"Hotch, tell me I did not just hear that."

You froze mid-breath, your hand flying to cover your mouth as a wave of heat rushed to your cheeks. That was Morgan’s voice. Morgan. You felt like a cartoon character with steam pouring out of your ears as your face burned red hot.

A nervous little squeak escaped you just as you heard Aaron fumbling with the phone, his voice clipped as he said something you couldn’t quite make out. There was a muffled shuffle, the sound of a door shutting, and finally, the blessed beep that meant he’d taken you off speaker.

"Christ, honey."

You peeked through your fingers, cheeks still burning as you tried to decide if you should laugh, cry, or maybe just dig yourself a hole and live there forever.

"So," you said, hesitating for a beat, "scale of one to ten, how dead am I? Should I preemptively file an HR complaint against myself, or just let Morgan handle my inevitable downfall?”

You heard him exhale sharply, the creak of a chair following as you pictured him leaning back with that half-smile he always gave when he was equal parts amused and exasperated.

“It’s fine. It’s a little embarrassing, sure. But nothing Morgan hasn’t done to himself ten times worse. He’ll give you a hard time for a day or so, Garcia will laugh, and then they’ll let it go.”

There was brief pause, and you could practically hear the smirk in his voice. “That being said, maybe think twice before making explicit promises while I’m at work, honey.”

You bit your lip, your gaze dropping to the shopping bag in your hand as you toyed with the strap absentmindedly.

"I mean, it's only fair I keep my promise now," you said softly, barely loud enough for him to hear. "It's the least I can do."

You heard a faint sound in the background—maybe him clearing his throat—before his voice dropped an octave. "You're already on thin ice today. Don’t make promises you can’t deliver on."

You let out a little huff, batting your lashes instinctively even though you knew he couldn’t see it.

"I don't know why you're doubting me, Mr. Hotchner. You should know I'm very serious about keeping my promises."

"You know, you're not making this easy on me, " Aaron muttered, his voice low and gruff. You could hear a faint groan, followed by what sounded like pacing on the other end. "Alright, I've really got to go now. Behave yourself. And how about you use my card for the rest of the shopping trip?"

"No, Aaron, I can't!" you said quickly, shaking your head as if he could see you. "You'd never trust me again with your card after the damage I'd do. Besides, you're already going to be shaking your head when you see what I got with my own money."

Aaron sighed, his voice going into that low, authoritative tone that always made your stomach flip.

"You will use the card." There was no room for argument in his words. "I want you to. End of discussion."

And just like that, the call ended with a click. You stared at the screen for a moment as if it might magically reopen the call so could argue your case one more time. But, of course, that didn't happen.

He’d told you to use his card—he demanded it, actually—but your fingers still hesitated, clutching the little piece of plastic like it was about to bite you.

You glanced at the white lace lingerie folded neatly on the counter, the delicate fabric practically winking at you. It wasn’t just pretty—it was the kind of perfect that made your heart flutter. Normally, you’d talk yourself out of something so indulgent, but this time? Well, Aaron had practically begged you to buy something… and you couldn’t think of a better way to treat both of you.

You only hesitated for the briefest moment before swiping his card, your heart doing a little flip as the cashier folded the lingerie into tissue paper with careful hands. It felt like a tiny secret between you and Aaron—a very fun secret.

By the time you got home, the sun had started to dip below the horizon, and you knew you had some time before Aaron made it back. He always gave you a pretty reliable ETA. It was the perks of dating someone so anal.

You lugged your shopping bags up to the bedroom, your arms aching a little, but in the best way possible. Once in the bedroom, you started unpacking everything like it was Christmas morning. Dresses went in the closet, shoes were lined up neatly, and you stashed the receipts in the nightstand just in case Aaron did ask how much damage you'd done.

Then you pulled out the piece—the one you'd bought with him in mind. The silk felt decadent under your fingertips, and the delicate lace was almost too beautiful to wear. Almost. It fit like a glove, hugging every inch of you like it had been tailored specifically for this moment. 

Feeling pleased with yourself, you made your way to the kitchen and slipped into your favorite frilly apron, tying the bow neatly at the back. Cooking wasn’t exactly your specialty, but you were determined to make this work. Pasta seemed foolproof enough (right?), and you threw together a salad and garlic bread for good measure. By some miracle, nothing caught on fire, and the kitchen actually smelled amazing.

You found yourself glancing at the clock every few minutes. When you finally heard the sound of a key turning in the lock, you glanced over your shoulder, heart skipping a beat.

"Hi honey!" you called sweetly, pretending as if standing in the kitchen wearing practically nothing was the most common thing in the world.

Aaron stepped inside, the door clicking behind him, but the second his eyes landed on you, he froze. His tie was loosened, his sleeves slightly wrinkled, and his hair looked like he’d run his fingers through it at least a dozen times today. But none of that mattered now—he stood there like he’d forgotten how to breathe, his dark eyes drinking you in.

You smiled at him, slow and innocent, brushing your hands lightly against the counter. "Dinner's almost ready."

"Sweetheart..." His voice was deeper than usual, strained and almost ragged, like he was trying to pull himself together and failing miserably.

"Yes?" you replied, acting as if you didn’t notice the way his eyes were glued to you while you turned off the burner and set the pan aside.

"What..." He swallowed hard, his throat bobbing as his gaze dragged down your body, lingering shamelessly on the curve of your ass. "What are you wearing?"

You turned to face him fully, the delicate lace tugging just slightly as you moved, drawing his eyes lower without him even realizing it.

"Oh this?" you said, gesturing vaguely to the piece. "It's just something I picked up today. You told me to use your card, so I thought I'd get something you'd like."

His jaw tightened, eyes scanning you slowly before lingering on the pink bows peeking out over the apron. "You used my card on this?"

"Mm-hmm," you hummed, your hands gliding down the soft lace as you took a step closer, looking up at him through your lashes. "I figured it was an investment. You know, for both of us."

Aaron groaned, low and frustrated, pinching the bridge of his nose for a brief second before letting his hand drop.

“Using my card for this…” His voice was rough as he closed the space between you in one long stride, his hands landing on your waist and pulling you flush against him. His lips curved into the faintest smirk as his voice dipped lower. “Was the one thing you’ve done right today. Now take this off—slowly, sweetheart—and let me see exactly what I bought.”

He pinched at the bow on your apron, his fingers tugging lightly, but you stepped back just enough to be out of his immediate reach.

“If you were that eager to see what I bought,” you teased, your fingertips grazing one of the straps of the apron, “maybe you shouldn’t have left me waiting so long.”

You slipped one strap off your shoulder, letting it fall halfway, then paused, tilting your head slightly as if daring him to come closer.

"Trying on pretty things, waiting for me to come home—must've been absolutely draining," Aaron shook his head slowly.

You pouted at him, pushing your bottom lip out just enough to make his eyes soften. He chuckled quietly, stepping closer until his hands braced the counter on either side of you, caging you in.

 "But you know what? I missed you too. And seeing you like this... makes being away feel like torture."

Your pout melted into a glowing smile as your hands found their way to his chest, your fingers brushing lightly over his shirt.

“You mean it? You really missed me?”

"Of course I did." His hands cupped your jaw gently, his thumbs brushing along your cheeks as if he couldn’t quite believe you were real. His other hand moved slowly to the bow at your waist, pulling the knot loose with an easy tug. "Now, angel, let me see what else I've been missing."

The apron slipped to the ground, forgotten, as Aaron’s eyes locked onto you. He blinked once, then twice, his expression unreadable except for the slight parting of his lips, like he’d been robbed of air.

His gaze traveled over you like a slow caress, taking in the way the lace hugged your curves, teasing him with everything it didn’t quite cover. His eyes lingered on your chest, where the sheer fabric exposed the peaks of your nipples, and you caught the subtle hitch in his breath as he swallowed hard, his jaw clenching slightly.

You tilted your head, letting your expression soften into something sweetly innocent as you leaned back against the counter. The lace shifted with the movement, exposing just enough to make his jaw tighten. Then, just for a second, you parted your legs, catching his sharp inhale as you gave him a soft, almost shy smile.

When he realized what wasn't under the lace, his eyes snapped back up to yours. Without a word, he dropped to his knees, hands sliding over your thighs until they rested just above your knees.

A soft gasp escaped your lips, heart skipping several beats as you stared down at him. You hadn't expected this. Not the way his knees hit the floor like it was second nature, not the way his palms spread wide against your skin, thumb brushing over the curve of your inner thighs as he looked up to you.

He must be exhausted, that was your only explanation. But then his hands pressed harder into your thighs, and the thought evaporated. His eyes weren't clouded with exhaustion—they were focused, like he was memorizing every inch of you. 

Your stomach twisted sharply, your legs suddenly feeling like they couldn’t hold you upright anymore. He was looking at you like you were the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. That singular thought settled in your chest, blooming like a flower, before curling low in your belly, leaving you breathless.

His lips grazed your thigh in the softest of touches, like he was savoring the moment. Slowly, he pressed another kiss, firmer this time, his fingers tightening around your thighs as his grip became more insistent. He kissed you again, higher and slower, his nose grazing your skin, breath fanning over you. A deep, contented hum rumbled from his chest.

"What have I done," he murmured, his voice rasping like the words have been pulled from his chest, "to deserve this? To deserve you?"

His eyes flickered up to meet yours. "Tell me, angel, because I'd do it a hundred times over if it meant to have you like this."

You wanted to tell him everything—the depth of your love, how he made you feel like the luckiest person alive—but the words lodged in your throat.

"Aaron... I... you're just..." you stammered, voice trembling as your fingers curled around the edge of the counter. 

Before you could gather your thoughts, he lifted one of your legs, hooking it over his shoulder, fingers digging into your skin. His lips brushed higher, dangerously close to your exposed cunt, and a soft, broken sound escaped you.

He hummed against your skin, the vibration shooting straight through you. 

"What's the matter, sweetheart?" His breath was hot against your thigh. "You always have so much to say. Don’t tell me you’re out of words already. I haven’t even started.”

"I was going to tell you how—oh, gosh, Aaron—"

Your words you had been trying to string together scattered completely, replaced by a shaky moan as his mouth pressed firmly against your clit. Your breathing stuttered, your chest rising and falling as waves of pleasure coursed through you, drowning out every thought but him.

His mouth was everywhere—warm, insistent, and impossibly skilled as his tongue traced over your clit with maddening precision. He worked like a man possessed, drawing sounds from you that you didn't even know you were capable of making. He was too good at this—too good at knowing exactly where and how to touch you, too good at making you fall apart with just his mouth.

Then he shifted, his hand gripping your other thigh as he lifted your second leg over his shoulder, leaving you completely at his mercy. The sound you made was somewhere between a gasp and a moan, your hands flying to his hair as your head tipped back.

Your back pressed against the edge of the counter awkwardly, a dull ache building in your lower spine, but it was nothing compared to the torrent of pleasure radiating through you. His tongue moved in devastating accuracy, his hands gripping your thighs like he was gluing you to himself. Your chest moved in shaky breaths, his name slipping from your lips in trembling cries that you couldn’t hold back.

"If I'd known this would be my reward," you gasped, tugging hard at his hair, your words faltering as your head tipped back. "I'd have emptied your whole wallet—oh, fuck—“

His lips closed firmly around your clit, pulling firmly in a way that destroyed your sentence completely. His hands tightened on your thighs, keeping you locked exactly where he wanted you.

"You must really mean it if you're cursing now." His tongue flicked over you again, making your back arch sharply. "Didn’t know you had that in you... let’s see what else I can get you to say, angel."

A warm flush spread up your neck and into your cheeks, heat rising faster than you could control. "I didn't mean to--"

You were cut off once again as his finger slid into your pussy. Any trace of embarrassment was gone, swept away by the overwhelming need pooling deep in your core, leaving nothing but raw desire in its place.

The pressure, coiling low in your stomach, was building so fast you could barely keep up with it. Every tell-tale sign was there—the trembling of your thighs, the way your chest shuddered in shallow breaths, and most incriminating of all, the words spilling from your lips before you could even think about them.

"I love you," you gasp, the desperation clear as ever. "I love you so much, I love you—Aaron, oh—"

He groaned against your clit, his tongue pressing hard as though your words were the fuel he needed to pull you apart completely. His finger curled again, hitting that spot that made you vision blur. His eyes flicked up, and you could tell he knew exactly what was happening. He always knew.

"I know, angel," he murmured, his voice muffled against your skin. "Now show me just how much."

Your orgasm hit you with staggering intensity, a wave of heat and pleasure crashing through you that left every inch of your body trembling. Your breath came in uneven, stuttering gasps as his name spilled from your lips, over and over, like a mantra you couldn’t stop repeating.

"That's my girl," Aaron murmured, his lips brushing against your sensitive skin as his finger worked you through the waves.

His lips pressed on last kiss to your thigh before he straightened, his hands immediately wrapping around your waist like he predicted you'd collapse without him. As soon as he lifted you, you clung to him like your life depended on it (and in that moment you were sure it did), your arms winding around his neck.

Everything felt distant, like you were floating somewhere above yourself. Your head rested limply on his shoulder, your lips brushing against the side of his neck. Your fingers curled weakly against the fabric of his shirt, and for a fleeting moment, you weren’t even sure your body had substance anymore—you felt soft, boneless, entirely his.

Aaron tapped the back of your thigh gently. "Come on, sweetheart, up."

You tried—really, you did—but your body wasn't cooperating. Your legs dangled uselessly, and you let out a soft, half-laugh, half-whisper. "Can't."

He huffed a quiet laugh. 

"Hopeless," he teased. He hoisted you up before you could process it, his shoulder pressing into your stomach as he flipped you over it. A surprised squeak escaped you, but his hand was already bracing your thigh as he started up the stairs. "I guess I'll just have to do all the work, as usual."

"You're so strong," you mumbled dreamily, your head lolling against his shoulder. "Like... disgustingly strong. It’s so hot."

Aaron laughed, his hand smacking your ass. "Keep talking like that, sweetheart and I'll start using you for my next workout routine. And I guarantee it'll be something you'll feel tomorrow."

"Mr. Hotchner!" you gasped, your voice half-indignant and half-giggling. "And you act like I’m the inappropriate one in this relationship!"

Aaron chuckled, shaking his head as he carried you into the bedroom. He lowered you down, tossing you onto the bed just hard enough to make you bounce lightly against the mattress. You let out a soft laugh, body sinking into the covers as you looked up at him. 

“The difference is, I have the good sense not to say things like that on speakerphone.”

You let out a small laugh, raising your eyebrows. “And you should have the good sense not to trust me on speakerphone. Really, Aaron, rookie move.”

He stood tall at the edge of the bed, his fingers slowly loosening the top button of his shirt as he tilted his head. "“That’s fine. We’ll call it even—after you make good on that promise."

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[sunnyset-arilines-inc]

Shit. I shouldn't have said that, but I didn't cut myself off in time. So I braced myself, sinking my teeth into my skinned knuckles, squeezing my eyes shut. I gripped the phone so hard my fingertips went cold. She was quiet, like she was as surprised as I was that I'd talked back. But even thousands of miles away, the shape of the silence was familiar. Windup.

I was never good at the optometrist's, when I was little. Never upgraded my prescription on time. Never had a pair that didn't wind up chipped or cracked. Never remembered the doctor's name, come to think of it. But I was especially not good at that part where they blow air in your eyes. I never knew when it was coming, and I was overly anxious about it, because I always remembered that it hurt. I always flinched preemptively, so the poor goth intern kept having to do it again and again. It was the worst. I kept apologizing, kept flinching, kept wiping my streaming eyes. She was always very sweet about it. She told me not to apologize - why does everyone tell me not to apologize? But there was a different woman at the end of the glass in my hand, and I consider myself a different man.

I laughed for her. "Hoo, sorry. Didn't mean to snap at you. Been a long day. All my buses were late, Boss chewed me out at the café today, I got assignments lined up..." "Right. You should rest." "Right. Yeah." "I just want you to know that I'm always thinking of you... and praying that the Archangel takes care of you..." "My patron saint is Judas Thaddaeus. Michael the Archangel is my brother's patron." "Are you visiting this weekend?" Oh, c'mon. No one ever appreciates the 'Judas' bit. It's even more ironic now, because the confirmation sponsor who participated in my Second Sacrament came out as antisemitic. Around the same time I came out as asexual, funnily enough. "Hello?" "Hmm? Sorry, I didn't hear. What did you say?" "I was asking if you were visiting this weekend." "Is Mikey?" "Michael is working." Yeah, I think we're going to be working on weekends for a while. "Sorry, I'd love to, but it's kind of a long trip down... I'd barely have enough time to spend a few hours with you before I'd have to head back up to make it to work on time." "No worries, I just wanted to offer you some rest. We miss you. We all miss you, Judy." Ooh, that one was intentional. I think she hates the name 'Jude'. I kinda hope it's because of me. I used to be confused, see, because I thought she switched between loving me and resenting me. But I think it's both. Even in wrath our God is only love. All horrors inflicted in the name of love are immune to condemnation. "I miss you guys too. I'll check with my boss to see if I can have Spring Break off, but, you know. Bills still need paying."

“Alright. I’ll let you go rest. Are you taking your water?”

“Uhhhhh…” I glanced over at the pile of open boxes of little glass jars of Holy Water, right next to the coffee table where I keep my houseplants. “Yeap.” "Good. Keep doing that. We love you, Judy." "Love you too." "We'll keep praying for you." "Uh-huh. Believe me, I’m praying for you guys, too." "Love you." "Bye.”

Finally, I put the phone down and sunk my face in my hands and just… let myself breathe. My fingers swam through my hair, and my right hand bumped into the base of my horn.

I rubbed it a little as I stared at my reflection on the black screen.

Oh, well. I think I’m a handsome devil.

"I don't understand why you won't just let me save you."

"If I wanted saved, I could do it myself."

[gyeomsweetgyeom]

[4:47 am]

(cw: wife!reader)

CEO!Johnny had been mad since the second he heard about this early meeting. That was a week ago. Well, not mad, more like pouty. For a few months now he’d gotten used to going into the office a little later so that he could have his mornings with you. Nothing too crazy, just a half hour later, but after all the hard work he’d put in for the company, he felt he deserved the half hour with his wife. The mornings were blissful, waking up and cuddling with you. Following that up with coffee and breakfast together and bidding each other goodbye with a kiss before heading in your respective directions.

But today, today felt like hell. He was up before the sun was coming up, waking up while bakers were still baking for the morning rush, while children were still fast asleep and in dreamland before going to school. Getting ready before you were even thinking about waking up. Hell, you were deep in rem sleep right now.

A part of him wanted to be selfish and wake you up. At the very least, to have your company. He wouldn’t force you out of the warmth of your shared bed. He just missed you… and today would be a long day. Going in early to talk to overseas investors and spending the rest of the day finalizing reports for the end of the quarter. He was already tired of it all.

Johnny dragged his feet while he sipped his coffee and willed the caffeine to kick in. He was bone tired. He had even stolen some of your under eye patches to help with the puffiness under his eyes. He sighed tiredly, tying his tie and fixed his hair one last time.

He turned off the light in the bathroom and padded across the bedroom to your sleeping form. He pressed a kiss to your forehead whispering a quiet, “have a good day, baby.”

He wishes he could say he felt accomplished since he had been awake so early and working almost as long. He talked to the investors, he got a lot of paperwork done, and he drank a lot of coffee. And still he didn’t feel good knowing his soft mornings with his wife had been torn away.

So it came it as no surprise when your FaceTime call came in at your usual wake up and get ready hour. He smiled brightly as his thumb slid across the screen to answer your call. He was met with your pouty face surrounded with the white sheets of your shared bed, “you didn’t wake me up.”

Johnny laughs, “baby, it was like 5 in the morning! Good morning though, how are you?”

“I dunno,” you grumble, “my husband doesn’t love me so…”

Johnny chuckles softly, slumping back in his very expensive desk chair, “I do love you. I love you so much that I didn’t interrupt your sleep. I did consider it though.”

“If you really loved me you’d have woken me up,” you argue playfully.

“I think you’ll love me when you see what I left you in the kitchen,” Johnny tells you, lifting his brows with a smirk.

He watches you move through the halls, hair messy and free. He watches your eyes light up when you saw the surprise he’d left for you. “Breakfast and coffee. Wow, I guess you do love me,” you tease, “thank you though, baby. I appreciate it.”

“I think you’ll also be happy to know that I’ll be home early today. I haven’t told anyone yet, but I will be. I deserve it after waking up at 4 in the morning."

"I don't think your secretary would approve of that," you chide, arching your brow a him through the camera.

"Well, she wasn't here at 5 in the morning was she? Plus, she'll like it when she gets to go home early too," Johnny yawns, "I'll pick up dinner on the way home, baby. Have a good day. You off to work?"

You shake your head with a smile, "nope, took the day off. I'll see you later. I love you."

"I love you too," Johnny responds before hanging up. Damn, he should have taken the day off too, especially since his CFO was more than capable of doing this on their own. He drags a tired hand down his face, he was definitely going to put in for a long vacation and it you off to some resort where you both could spend the whole day in bed if you wanted to.

[sheepispink]

FIX IT SIMON! ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི

Pairings: Lieutenant!Ghost x civilian, baker! reader

Part 5 of Sweet As Sugar Series ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི Summary: Simon’s been put on leave, much to his annoyance, and due to the Christmas period your shop isn’t even open. So he has to wait painstakingly for two days for it to reopen once more, and when it does, he doesn’t plan to leave.

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Finally, he’s been pushed on holiday, by force no less, and his first feeling is that he’s bored— extremely so. The initial plan was to sleep through the entire first day, but he could barely get more than a few hours in before he was awake in a cold sweat. At least back at base he could work it off in the gym, or with a few laps around the muddy track. Here in this apartment, he couldnt nearly do as much as he’d like to, especially with the eerie quietness about it. Usually he could hear Soap snoring next door, or at least Price’s quiet murmurs as he reads over another mission plan. It didnt help that he got let off right on Christmas Eve, which meant today and tomorrow he could barely do anything around town since nothing would be open, especially your cafe.

He could never relate to the other soldiers about the joy of returning home though. They’d groan on and on about how they missed the smell of home cooked food, plush pillows in their beds, being warm on the coldest nights and most of all being fussed over by their parents, siblings or well.. their lover. He can hardly remember where he left the spare toilet paper let alone find comfort in the scent of his ‘home’, nor actually find comfort in his bed. The sheets move around too much, pulling off the corners of his bed every time he tosses, and they're rough against his bruises, not doing anything to soothe his aches.

A few years back, he moved out of Manchester to stay in Cardiff. It didn't affect him much anyway, considering he was barely at his own apartment throughout the year, but it did make it particularly easier on the odd chance he was kicked out of base— part of the rules for the Christmas holidays. He really had tried to argue with Price, but he wouldn't have it, telling him to ‘just take a damn break’. Soap had even joked a few times about dragging him over to Scotland with him, but Ghost wasn't too sure if he could handle another Mactavish let alone just Soap. Plus, any type of family gathering was really not his thing.

So, after surviving his second restless night, he makes the impulsive decision to drive down to your town at seven am, arriving there in half an hour. The bell jingles, early regulars already filtering in and out the cafe for their coffee before their jobs start. He usually either went now or near closing time, trying his best to avoid the busiest hours— otherwise he’d never get to see you.

“Cardamom tea.” He grunts at you before placing a five pound note on the counter, eyes catching onto the mess behind the counter before he raises a brow at you.

“What the hell happened back there?”

You sigh, glancing back at the wet floor sign and the spices hastily swept underneath the cupboards. “The front sink suddenly burst this morning. I've been using bottled water but it’s starting to become an issue.”

You ring in his order though, turning around to dispense the premade tea, the large airpot keeping it warm. It was way better than any teabag, the fresh spices balancing out in his mouth in a way that makes some part of him melt.

“Have you called a plumber yet?” He watches as you strain the spices out before pouring into a cup for him, placing the lid on and grabbing your pen for your signature doodle. It’s not like he wanted to admit he liked them, but you’ve been getting increasingly creative with the mini-version of him who's been up to all kinds of things.

“Ah.. well, the closer it gets to Christmas the harder it is to find anyone. It’ll have to be fixed in the new year.” You give him a shrug as you hand over the cup, obviously looking a little down about having to deal with a dodgy sink on top of running the shop each day. It’d certainly makes your tea products a struggle to produce and he doesn't even need to ask to see you contemplating shutting it down. “Let me ‘ave a look.” There’s not much he could do to make it worse anyway, so you unlock the small swing gate, letting him walk around the corner. Usually , you would’ve helped him inspect it, but a group of regulars returned for their usual meeting and you knew this would be an order you had to handle now. Though, when you finally complete it, he’s disappeared off again.

“Hi, what can I get for you today?” Just like the first day you met, your music is blaring in the background, considering it’s half an hour till closing and many don't hang around till now. Finally you lift your head, meet with Simon’s familiar black mask and you smile, though slightly tilting your head in confusion.

“Oh— what are you doing back here? Wait- did I forget a plan?”

Your face grows into one of panic and he quickly quells it with a firm shake of his head. A soft thud rings out and you look down to see a toolkit he had just placed on the table, what looks to be plumbing supplies.

“We’ll have that sink workin’ by the end of today.”

He had gotten to work immediately, muttering to himself about how bad the previous owners had been to let it get to this state as he crouched in front of the sink cabinet. “Simon, you really don’t have to—“ He shakes his head,reaching into a carrier bag to pull out a flexi hose and other things you don't recognise. “You got a customer waitin’ for you.” You squeak, having not even realised and quickly apologise before taking the order. In no time, your sink is working again, although Simon did get a little drenched when he tested it and the water pressure was a bit too high. The sight had you in fits of laughter as you quickly searched for a towel. Besides that, you marvelled at how he had restored the sink with a bit of diy, cringing at the dirty state of the old pipes and the like.

“Thank you for everything today. I’m thinking about getting a filter attachment for the water so it’s better quality. You’ll be the first to try the new teas, of course.”

That’s accompanied by your usual emoji, that of which is a little smiley with its tongue sticking out. He has no idea why you’re so enthralled by the mini pictures but he’s made no effort to stop you, just replying back in his own usual tone.

“You’re welcome. Filtered water sounds good, tea will taste better too.”

Okay, so maybe he didnt text as nicely as you and had a bad habit of getting straight to the point— you didn't seem to mind too much though, and it’s better than leaving you on read like he’s heard some men have done. A sigh puffs out his chest as his head hits the pillows, looking at the speckles on his ceiling as he thinks over the day. It felt good to be occupied, and not in the usual ‘planning something that could end up killing people if done wrong’ way. His job helped people of course, damn every mission was always for a better cause but something was different with the way you had lit up, grinning at his handiwork. Families had thanked him before— nervously because of his heavy armour but thanked him nonetheless. Yet still he didn't get that rush, the one that made his teeth grit, eyes avert awkwardly and his fists to clench a little. One that made him a little uncomfortable, though sent him reeling all the same. ‘If i didnt fix it, I'd never get my tea for a long while..’ He concludes that must be why he ran out to the nearest home diy store, and definitely not the frown on your lips. it must be.

Despite that, he was seemingly having an internal battle with himself the longer the days continued with little sleep. He just had no excuses for what he was doing anymore, nothing was making sense. Most of all was when the next day he made his way to your shop again, muttering something about ‘The fridge made a loud noise when i was here. It’s annoying.’ before he was stalking around the counter and pulling it away from the wall. He checks all the vents, and clears the dust buildup from many years of use. You confess your parents planned for a new one but you haven't been able to afford it yet.

“I don't need it.” He shrugs as he hands you the military discount card he keeps spare, supposed to be for family members but now he’s giving it to you. It’s still early when he's done with the fridge, and decides to check out the lights in the main kitchen, where all the bakes are made. He’s been here before, when you needed to clean it at closing time and he stayed late again. One of them needs to be replaced, obviously and so he takes it upon himself to do that. Somehow he finds another problem, fixing the squeakiness of the back door.

This carries on until a third day, he had come by after munching down some dinner, and he somehow migrated his problem fixing to your small apartment upstairs. You didn't mind of course, and he hadn't pushed, in fact he sounded more awkward than you when he spoke up. “If your pipes were this rusty downstairs, I think the ones upstairs can only be worse. You should.. get that checked out.” He mutters, his arms crossed over as he crouches before the kitchen water pipes. You have to stifle a smirk, nodding along with his words instead. Whilst he worked, he’d ask the odd question and you had explained that the previous owners barely used the apartment themselves— explaining his assumption.

“Ah.. I really should get someone to check it out…”

It feels fun to act like this— you almost feel like you’re saying no to a kid about buying a toy. He’s sitting there silently but you know he wants to go up and sort it out for you. The reason? You’re not sure, but you have a few suspicions. “You’re on holiday now, right?” You glance at him as he stands from his crouched position, and he nods. “Are you doing anything for it?”

“No.” He grunts almost a little too quickly, the boredom practically agitating his soul now as he shifts, fidgeting with the tools as he places them back in the boxes. “Oh.. well, would you mind checking my pipes out upstairs then? I mean… as long as you're not too busy. You can just tell me what’s wrong and i’ll hire a plumber later—“

“I’ll fix tha’ by tonight.” So, you close up the shop, since it’s late now already, and walk up the small staircase up to your apartment. It looked far smaller on the outside, but you had planned your space well. There was a kitchenette, looking a lot more modern than the bakery downstairs. Rather than the dark mahogany, it was a lighter brown and off white walls, matching the plush leather couch before your tv. It was clear you had done some work on it yourself, or hired someone at least, to renovate the place. He takes his shoes off by the door and you take his jacket from his hands to rest it on a little hook. It was cute to him, to see how you’ve cosied up this space to be one of your own. The first thing he notices is how warm it is, not a sweaty hot but like sitting infront of a fire on a freezing day. It’s welcoming, the warm light rather than the sterile white he’s accustomed to, as well as the little picture frames among the walls of artwork you’ve grown fond of over the years. He even smiles at your key holder, the way a cat pops out as you place the key down.

He’d describe it as a home, a real one. From the small clutter of dishes that you shyly hurry him past, or the blanket still splayed over the couch from a late night movie— hell even the bin full to the brim. It’s full of life, something his apartment has never known. “Alrigh’ let’s see the damage here.”

“Will you be fine here on your own? I still need to clean up downstairs..”

He nods quickly, even going as far as to shoo you away and you laugh hurrying down again.

You come up at eight, wanting to deliver him a cup of the leftover tea from today whilst you washed out the large airpots you kept them in. “Simon?” You call out, looking around until you see him standing before the sink, finally repaired and looking a little.. dazed. “I’ll be finished in a bit, why dont you take a seat on my couch and watch some tv?”

“I should go home—“

“No! ..I mean, I can't just force you to go now after all your hard work. Stay and drink the tea please?” He cant say no to those eyes and so he grunts, letting you tug him over to the couch and sit him down. Then you hurry over to the cabinet, rummaging out a pack of nachos and some salsa. “Help yourself, okay? I’ll be done soon. Promise.”

Then he’s left alone again, sitting there quietly as he sips on the mug of tea you gave him. It’s in a mug that has prints of skulls all over it, and a ghost on the centre with a little ‘boo!’ next to it. He finds it awfully fitting, a bit curious on when you even bought this and when you planned to show him it. Like he said before, your tea is just perfect. The right mixture of sugar, spice and everything else nice. It breaks down a part of him he hadn't known existed, muscles relaxing into the plushness of the couch. He’s got a large cushion behind his back, something you must love since there’s a few more littering the couch too. The tv is quiet, on one those stupid adult cartoons that he’s never found quite funny but the ambience of this is too cosy to deny, too comforting. Has it really been that long since he’s slept? He hadn't wanted to admit it, but he’d been avoiding sleep recently just to escape those nightmares for a bit. This was comfy though, almost too comfy, but you said you’d be back soon— he’s sure the military trained him to wait that long anyway. So he sits there quietly, waiting.

When you return, you call out again, only to recieve silence in response. Confused, you walk further in, seeing him sitting upright. “Lt! Simon! …Ghost?” Still no reply, that is until you hear quiet breathing, and you step closer to see his head is slumped back a little. Carefully tiptoeing around the couch, his blonde eyelashes are pressed against the black cut outs of his mask, lips gently parted as his chest rises and falls. You can see his chin properly for once, the small curves of his lips and the pin prick of a scar near his neck. That makes you swallow sharply, only images of him being near death coming to your mind. For now, you shake it out and try to figure out what to do with the sleeping hunk of a man on your couch. Of course, you’re far from being annoyed but you’d feel extremely guilty if you didn't at least try to wake him.

What if he feels uncomfortable when he wakes?

“Si..” You whisper, the nickname unintentionally slipping out as you gently rub his shoulder. No response is heard, only a deep breath leaving his chest as he relaxes into your couch. “Si, you fell asleep.” This time, you think he’s woken but he just shifts his body, head leaning back further to press into the back of the couch. You sigh, not sure what else to do than to just leave him here until he wakes. There’s no point attempting more drastic measures, knowing damn well you likely cant even lift his arm just from the sheer muscle on it. “You gonna lie down at least? That’s gonna hurt your neck in the morning.”

It had been a murmur to yourself but he had seemed to have the same idea, head sinking a little more in search for a comfortable place to rest. He grunts in his sleep, mask crinkling near his eyes as they squeeze. You tug his arm gently to lead him, and he subconsciously follows, adjusting himself until his head rests on a cushion you placed on the armrest. His arm lazes over his stomach as he gets comfortable on his side, cheek pressing in to the pillow just slightly. Smiling to yourself, you grab the thick throw blanket from the back of the couch and tuck it around him before reaching out towards his face. Your fingers tangle on the fabric of his mask, his nose twitching until you slowly drag down the bunched fabric to his chin. “Sleep well, Si.” The couch creaks as he sinks in further, the light ahead flickering off with the touch of your fingers.

It’s late in the morning when he grunts, though today it’s not the light from the curtains annoying him, nor does he wake up to silence neither. Infact, a soft hum is heard not too far away and he’s almost positive he’s dreaming now. Quickly perking up at the unfamiliar surroundings, he whips his head around only to see you standing in an apron, teeth biting your lip as you concentrate on scooping an egg perfectly in the plate. You practically beam at your own work, finally looking up to see him stare back at you, throw blanket sliding off his shoulders. “What the–” His voice is cold, instantly reverting to his military instincts before you chuckle, the sound easing something in him. “You fell asleep on my couch, silly. Looked exhausted too– have you been sleeping well recently?” He sits up properly now, glad for the mask to cover his warming face, before walking over to the counter you stand at.

“Not my fault your couch is comfy.” He takes the plate you slide towards him, lifting his mask to his nose as he takes a bite of the sausage.

“You’re avoiding my question, Si.” His eyes flicker up, caught off guard by the nickname but any challenge he wanted to give you for having the audacity quickly dies in his throat. He’s not the man for you, but you’re so damn tempting to him. Never has he hesitated to set a boundary, yet here he is letting you call him Si. “Fine, I havent been sleeping well. Just adjusting, tha’s all.”

You don't believe him, but there’s not much you can do, not when he’s being stubborn as it is right now. Despite that, you still couldn't just let him deal with it on his own either, not after everything he’s been doing for you. So you shuffle through your cupboards, grabbing a packet of Chamomile tea and offering it to him. “Take it. It might not be perfect, but it helped me relax when I had insomnia.” Then you’re grabbing a diffuser too, and a few candles, placing everything into a small carrier bag. “If it doesn't work, then I guess you’ll just have to sleep on my couch forever.” He rolls his eyes at your cheeky words, and grabs your empty plate to stack atop his.

“Alrigh’ fine. But I'll hold you to that promise.”

He might have to start praying they dont work.

—————————————————————-

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[aziraphales-library]

Hello! Thanks for all your hard work, I’ve found so many good fics through here.

Do you have any recommendations for human au fics where Crowley and Aziraphale have known each other for a long time before becoming romantically involved. Could be acquaintances or co-workers or even friends, but looking for a good rec without a real meet cute/strangers-to-lover situation! Thanks so much :)

Hi! We have #friends to lovers and #childhood friends tags which you can check for lots of fics like this. Here are some more to add...

be mine tonight (be mine forever) by artenon (T)

Aziraphale knows he’s a solitary person. He knows Crowley may very well be his only true friend. He doesn’t mind this. He does, however, very much mind learning that his coworkers have a betting pool on whether he’ll be coming alone to the department holiday party next week. He especially minds when he learns that the reason there is a betting pool in the first place is because their intern, young Newton Pulsifer, is the only one naïve enough to believe Aziraphale might have a date. ----- In retaliation to a bet made against him, Aziraphale asks Crowley to be his date to the office holiday party. Certainly there are no flaws to be found in this plan. Certainly the secret love Aziraphale has been harboring for Crowley for the past several years won't be an issue. Certainly not.

Slipping by AppleSeeds (T)

When Aziraphale's friend and colleague Crowley asks him out at their work Christmas party, Aziraphale turns him down, having only ever thought of Crowley as a friend. Months later, Aziraphale's feelings for Crowley have changed, but due to a series of increasingly ridiculous misunderstandings, they both become convinced that the other isn't interested in a romantic relationship. (They're just adorable, oblivious, and pining, that's the whole fic.)

Wanna Bet? by Mimsynims (E)

“What do you mean, ‘you can’t find my name’?” “I’m sorry, sir. We have bookings for all of your colleagues, but your name is missing. Unfortunately that means there’s no room set aside for you.” “Right…” Crowley could guess who had made the ‘mistake’. “But surely there’s another room available? It doesn’t have to be on the same floor as the others’.” He would actually prefer it if it wasn’t.  “I’m afraid not, sir. Due to the conference all of our rooms are booked already.” The young woman on the other side of the counter looked genuinely distressed. “Most hotels within the vicinity are.” Crowley sighed and furrowed his brows. He didn’t even want to be here in the first place, and now he didn’t have a place to sleep? Knowing Gabriel, it would be no use asking to be allowed to go back home.  “Let me check something…” The woman brightened again, a small smile growing on her face. “Yes. It’s not ideal, but it seems that two of your colleagues have been placed in double rooms. Perhaps you or someone else can consider sharing?” Anyone want to guess who he ends up sharing a room with? ;)

On The Side by FeralTuxedo (E)

Aziraphale is far too pure of heart to be anybody’s bit on the side. Or so Crowley thinks. But when his friend starts seeing walking red flag Jim, with his dodgy smiles and mysterious past, Crowley does everything he can to protect Aziraphale from disaster. His own heart might just end up being collateral damage.

i've found a way (a way to make you smile) by curtaincall (T)

Crowley worked in Sales. He had never intended to work in Sales. It had just sort of happened. One moment, there he’d been, a newly minted university graduate off to change the world, exquisitely useless Philosophy degree in hand, and now here he was, having sauntered vaguely downwards into a Hell that consisted mainly of cold-calling new customers and sucking up to existing ones.   AU based on The Office.

Between Comfort And Chaos by anathxmadevice (T)

“And how long have you two been a couple?” “Oh, I—” Aziraphale panics. “Ha, well, that’s a funny… We’re not actually—” “We’re just friends.” Crowley says, their voice clear and calm and lightly amused, either because of or in spite of Aziraphale’s flailing attempts to divert the conversation. “Ah, yes, quite.” Aziraphale says, then takes a sip of his drink just for something to do, instead of focussing on the way Crowley said just friends, and how it causes a painful throb in his chest that he has never fully got used to. His memory can only scrabble at the edge of a time where being just friends with Crowley didn’t feel like a particular form of torture. * Or, Aziraphale has been desperately in love with his best friend and housemate Crowley since they were students, but is too scared to do anything about it.

- Mod D

[somegrumpynerd]

-Okay but some of the fears that Color has are in fact the same fears that Nightmare has when it comes to Killer.

Like, Color is worried that Killer's so blindly loyal to Nightmare for whatever reason that he wouldn't even think of complaining if he hated it. And at the start that was something Nightmare probably expected. His henchmen should be loyal and obedient and not ask questions nor complain. But now, after years of learning and bonding and softening up significantly he wonders sometimes if that's still the case.

Nightmare knows Killer well, perhaps better than most, but he's not exactly an open book. Especially when it comes to his own wants or needs. More often than not when he makes a request it's intentionally silly or unreasonable for laughs, like asking if they can take Dust to the nearest pet store and try to trade him in. Very rarely does he want something strong enough to make it known, both to himself and others, like asking to keep the first cat he found.

So.

If he hated this. If he truly struggled and fought and agonised with himself about the position he's in and the work he's doing and the life he leads.

Would he say it? Would he realise that was how he felt? Would he even consider saying no was an option?

If Nightmare asked him to do something he really genuinely did not want to, would he just do it anyway because he doesn't believe he has a choice in the matter?

The only way of finding out (besides making a blatantly difficult request of him, which Nightmare is not willing to do) is to simply wait and trust that Killer will tell him if something is wrong. Which... is not exactly foolproof or easy.

But it's part of why Nightmare hates to be around Color too much, because deep down he's more than a little worried that Color could be right and he doesn't know how to fix it.

[loveandleases]

How would each ro react to the mc parnets trying to be involved in their child life?

Cause they sound insane as hell considering how they are acting

I'm not going to go into too much detail because some of that will be in the story itself. (below the cut!)

❤️ Cam - Originally, MC's parents treated him well. (likely due to that last name of his.) But, once they realized he was the black sheep of his family, their treatment soured. He sees them for who they are - self-serving and opportunistic. For him, it's a big no. Big no. He knows them too well to give them the benefit of the doubt. "Maybe you should focus on Jade, I mean why stop now right?"

💙 G - So, MC's parents met G several times when they were attending Uni together. They initially liked G, especially when they thought G was on track to become a surgeon. G got along with them until they began noticing the favoritism between MC and Jade. They had hoped they would improve, but from what they noticed they never did. Over time they realized that MC's parents' treatment wasn't a fluke - it was a pattern. G likes to think things through and figure out what's going on. But their patience has limits, and they quickly decide that the parents aren't worth the effort. They don't hide their disdain.

💚 Kara - Our sweet girl likes to believe the best in people, including those two. Kara has been treated like royalty by them. So, she doesn't know all the bad. She has seen MC's parents when they're at their happiest. Surrounded by the Clarke's money and living it up, since they're family friends. Her optimism will crack though, once she starts seeing the difference in how MC is treated in comparison to Jade. Watching MC get brushed aside time and time again is eye-opening for her, and it even parallels. She often feels like a backup/afterthought to her parents. Her loyalty to MC will outweigh her idealism, and she'll start to see the parents for who they are.

💛 M - HATES them. Like really hates them. M has an amazing relationship with their mothers. So, seeing people act so aloof with their child, pisses them off. It's revolting. And you know how M is, sometimes they can hold their tongue, and other times it's out of their mouth before it's even fully processed in their mind. M thinks it's in MC's best interest to cut ties with them. Because they know MC deserves better, and if their parents won't give it to them. M will.

💜 Isaac - So, their feelings about MC's parents are complicated. Isaac lost their mother and has a pretty rocky relationship with his father. So, his perspective is unique. He knows what it's like to feel like a dollar sign to a parent, and he fears MC will face that too when they're more successful. Beneath that cynicism, there's a bit of sadness. Because they can't help but think about the relationship they had with their mother, that they wish MC could have. If Isaac thought there was a chance for MC's relationship with their parents to change and become healthy, they would oh so cautiously, support it. But if not, then he'd be the first to tell them to walk away.

🖤 Ardent - Ugh, this guy has really good parents. Most of his family is great. (then the others well.. spoiler) One of the two out of the ROs. He's used to arguments and disagreements with his family, but those are small fights. Over stupid things, it's never about favoritism or neglect. To him, family means showing up and making someone feel like a priority. MC's parents fail that test immensely. If MC needs companionship, a partnership, or a family he is ready to offer it all. For him, blood isn't what defines family; actions do.

[iratempestatis]

Heyy! How are u? I hope you’re doing well i saw you wanted some requests for xiao and i thought of an idea so we know xiao’s true form is a bird right? How about xiao’s s/o one day discovers it by an accident? Like maybe the s/o is an adventurer and was exploring around liyue in the night and happened to hear the whistling sound we hear in the game in liyue (the one where xiao calls for his dead friends) and the s/o goes to see what the noise is the rest is up to you

Entwined.

Xiao x gn!reader, 5.5k words. Some angst and then all fluff, it may not have been exactly what you wanted but I do hope you like it! I love bird Xiao <3 Feel free to send more Xiao asks! Rest assured I will write them even if it takes some time :3

Being an adventurer is hard work.

Find a suitable commission (which never happens), figure out any additional details (clients never provide enough info, especially the rich ones), plan your schedule, budget and equipment accordingly (it often falls short thanks to their unreasonable demands), finally carry out the commission (it often turns out to be far more frustrating and time consuming than you anticipated), get angry when the client stubbornly refuses to cough up the original sum of mora (this thankfully doesn’t happen as much), nurse your wounds (ouch) and worry nonstop about any sudden emergencies (what if you get injured? What’s going to happen when you get old?) You sometimes wish you listened to your family and became a scholar instead.

Anyway, you’re currently locked in a bitter battle with a rank one (1) asshole, so maybe you just have an unreasonably short fuse right now.

Some days past an old, rich Fontainian posted a commission at the Liyue branch of the Adventurers guild. And you were lucky enough to snag it. It was a stroke of sheer fortune, quite literally, too- if you could meet the client’s demands, you’d end up with a completely inane amount of mora. You planned on doing this mission solo- after all, any expenses incurred would be more than covered by the heaps of mora you’d be swimming in soon enough.

But some conniving liar told Katheryne you’d agreed to pair up with him- and she believed him before you could confirm it, so now you’re officially partners… which means you’re forced to share the spoils.

You’re so tempted to drop the commission altogether, but-

“But that’s what he wants,” you hiss, hiking up the trail along the beautiful mountains of Jueyun Karst. Normally this would be a soothing trip- Jueyun Karst is so glorious you sometimes wonder if the gods picked a random mortal’s preferences to model it after (yours), but today you saw only the bad, like the still smoking fires left behind by some careless brigands, and a dead mouse. You consider bringing it back to Changsheng as a twisted joke- no, she’d paralyse you. Best to focus on the task at hand. You go over the details.

The commission was vague (rich, old man), although a bit sad (old man). If you really did find what he want though (unlikely, vague request, but if partially fulfilled, you get half the mora) you wouldn’t have to work at all for perhaps the next six months (rich man).

Apparently, a long, long time ago, the rich old man saw a beautiful apparition in the form of a woman. Lost in the foggy mountains on a rainy day, he saw her seated on a tree nestled deep somewhere in Jueyun Karst. She apparently rescued his life, by appearing on a different tree each time he got too close, leading him out the valley. When he asked for her name, she responded with a mere scoff, then vanished for good.

You’re pretty sure that’s either bull or some ghost. Sounded disturbingly like an Inazuman tale you heard once. Either way, she doesn’t exactly sound like a normal person.

And he wants you to find her.

How are you even supposed to do that? The old man is decrepit, according to Katheryne, who (bless her bionic heart) tried her damnedest to convince him it was something out of the ordinary, and that he should give up. You agree with her- you’re pretty sure it was either a ghost (no finding it), an adeptus (no finding them) or an actual mortal woman (Xiao’s influencing you too much. You could’ve just said woman. Also, if it really was just a woman, which she wasn’t, she’s probably dead by now.)

But you didn’t really have the heart to tell the old man that. Or maybe you got a little greedy. But hey, he can afford it! And you just might end up end up giving his broken heart some closure, right?

You figure you’ll ask around, look for the grave. So far you’ve had no leads, besides some blue haired kid (with the ugliest haircut, you think, then feel bad for thinking that of a kid) lying to your face in an attempt to prank you. It’s so strange, because you’re pretty sure you’ve seen her-? Him? With someone important, in silks and brocade. You just can’t remember who… but you digress.

You’ve checked everywhere you could think of in the past two, almost three weeks. Nothing. You’ve even been to Mingyun Village- again, nothing. Right up until a child in Qingce told you she saw a similar pretty woman, on a tree in Jueyun Karst. Really.

You’ve spent days in Jueyun Karst, craning your neck and nearly stumbling down mountain slopes, eyes throbbing from the light, spine burning. But nothing. You considered taking the easy way out and telling him it was Cloud Retainer, but you’re an adventurer with morals and besides, anyone who’s met her knows she never stops talking. But on the subject of your quarry, why did that bitch find a nondescript tree to sit in every time? Was it so hard to just go sit on the big, glowy one?

“Old hag,” you mutter. Your calves feel about as solid as almond tofu right now, and your brain just as smooth. You have no idea how you’re going to do this, but. The mora.

You glance at the note Katheryne gave you. It told you just a few things- a dark haired woman in a tree, with hair that fluttered like downy feathers in the wind (poetic old man. Also rich, you remind yourself), pale, in a tree, nothing more.

You sigh.

At least Jueyun Karst is pretty at night.

And comfortable enough to camp in, you figure. Granted, there’s some treasure hoarders and monsters, but it is the abode of the adepti after all.

You shrug, and trudge upward along the winding paths. Darkness is gathering, but your eyes adjust.

Eventually, the lingering shadows cease to lengthen and melt into the darkness enveloping the mountain as a whole. You’re disconcerted as you start to make camp in a copse, but reassured by the small blaze you’ve lit to warm yourself at some distance.

Upon making camp, you settle down on the grass with a snack. The wind rustles through your little copse and you see the moon emerge, denuding its robe of clouds. Silvery fingertips trail across the land, painting, muting Jueyun Karst beneath its touch.

It’s peaceful, yet haunting.

What’s more haunting though, is the soft, yet somehow piercing, keening cry that wafts through the air.

It’s slow at first, just a trilling hum that gets clearer and higher with every moment before lilting and fading away.

You blink. You’ve never heard such a sound before. Is it a musical instrument? A bird of some sort?

You hear it again. It doesn’t start slowly this time- it’s high, all at once, then a low humming before rising in a wail once more. It sounds like music. It sounds like weeping. And for some inexplicable reason, you feel your chest tighten and feel hollow, all at once.

This is a bad idea, you tell yourself as you scrabble to put out the fire. You remind yourself of the same once more as you pack all your things (after you just made camp, too), fingers trembling, dropping things. Perhaps this is it, the maiden you were looking for.

You sling the bag across your bag with a force that makes you stumble, then start making your way up the hill.

Maybe this really is it, you think. In the distance you see tiny glows, nestled away across the vale. Probably treasure hoarders. For some reason, your heart aches.

It feels like you’ve been sitting stagnant for too long. Everything around you has grown. When you pull your hand up to wipe away a tear, you see it shrouded in spiderwebs. They reach past your ribs, to your elbow, to the rest of you. Force their way gently into your mouth, into your ears. They’re in your nostrils. You cannot breathe.

Arriving near the source of the sound, you sit onto the grass for a moment, to rest. The webs are swaying, scratching uncomfortably across all of you. Tightening and loosening and tangling, keeping you in place. You cannot move.

You’ll cut yourself.

Get a grip. Oh, Morax.

There’s a lull in the cries and your head feels lighter all of a sudden. You blink, then start to get up- utterly nonplussed, what are you doing here-

A sobbing, recoiling cry abruptly sounds from before you, the maker contained away in the hurst right before you, overlooking the valley. The moon skips ahead, weaves between the clouds.

Steeling yourself, heart racing, you enter the thicket peek behind the tree and look up towards the sound.

It’s a… something. A mess of tattered wings and bloodied feathers and too many eyes. In the night they all look black and silver, but realisation hits you with the force of a thousand spears- this is Xiao.

It’s Xiao.

Keening, weeping, alone. Seated on a tree, cradled in its branches. Shielded by its crown. He’s crying.

He’s crying.

He sheds no tears in his avian form- large gold eyes turned to the moon, muscular neck lain limply across a branch. You see his throat move and his eyes shut- eyes that are still gold, even in the dark- as he lets out another cry.

You can see his back and tail- the rest is covered by multiple sprawling wings. They’re dark. Looking at them feels as though looking at a human bruise on an oil painting. Disconcerting. The smoke coming off them makes them smudge into the dark, become one with it.

He’s beautiful.

But he’s crying and you’ve never known you could feel such anguish at someone else’s grief. Pain, sure, but this is something eyes. Tears well in your eyes to compensate for his current form. One runs down your cheek and it snaps you to your senses- what are you doing, just standing around?

You step towards him, arms outstretched, his name on the tip of your tongue. Your mind’s a mess. Vaguely, you can tell there is something amiss. Voices slither inside your head, voices that don’t belong, filling it up with murmurs in a tongue you don’t understand. Full of vitriol, they ignite emotions within you you didn’t even know existed. Grief so intense you feel as though your heart really is bleeding into your chest. Fury so immense you can’t help but slam a palm into the trunk of the tree next to you and gasp. They twine and twist into shapes and colours you cannot see. For just a moment, you’re blinded, agony blooming across your body. You shudder, gasp.

Something is wrong.

Your vision turns hazy- you glance up to see the bird descend before you, wings magnificently spread, beak- no, mouth now- open, crying out in alarm. You collapse into his outstretched arms and it feels like too much and nothing all at once. Warm water- warm tears- fall onto your temple as your knees buckle. You feel vertigo when he instead has lowered you gently to the ground. Just as you faint, you see him- mouth open, gritted teeth, face damp with tears. You say his name- at least you try-

When you come to, you’re in Bubu Pharmacy.

You feel so unencumbered all at once- the flames across your skin extinguished, the voices silent, the webs gently spooled away. Thank Baizhu. And you can see again, see normally, blind once more to the auras and colours mortals mustn’t see- or perhaps you hallucinated it all.

The old man from the funeral parlour- Zhongli, you recall- is seated on a chair next to you. His posture is a little slack. Sitting up with some difficulty, you see that his eyes are shut. The harbour is silent.

You glance out the window only to see the cheerless night sky mirror the inky ocean below.

Oh no.

You cannot delay. What are you doing here? How long were you asleep? You’re wearing loose, white clothes- who changed you? No matter. You need to find Xiao, because he was crying and your lungs feel like they’re folding in on themselves, and by Morax, he’s probably all alone once more, and you’ve added to his pain by being foolish and interrupting him as he vents in a moment of catharsis-

You stumble out of bed and look around to gather your things, then decide to just come collect them later. You’ve no time to waste. You hear Zhongli inhale deeply as he suddenly awakens- why was this guy in here with you anyways- and quickly bolt, locking the door behind you as you do so.

Sorry, Mr. Zhongli.

You regret not taking his talks about Karmic debt as seriously as you should have. You’re not worried for yourself- you feel much better already (you lift your vision up to your heart. You’re beyond grateful- it’s the only gift the gods have ever given you, their only gift that matters) but Xiao must feel abominable guilt right now. You must reach him, tell him you’re fine, tell him it’s not your fault.

You’re halfway across the main bridge on the northern side of Liyue harbour when you realise it’ll take way too long to find Xiao like this. You could call out his name, of course, but you don’t want to accidentally make him teleport and exert himself in the middle of a breakdown.

You run your hand through your hair, almost pulling it out as you do and glare out at the sea. From the corner of your eye you see the Millelith guards standing by the gate shoot one another unnerved glances, then turn towards you. What’s their problem?

Now irritable, you make your way towards them to politely ask what the matter is- but they clutch one another in terror and immediately start shrieking. You yelp and duck, looking around frantically for the danger. The guards continue babbling and pointing, then screech again as you panic and frantically crawl towards them. Maybe you’re a bit more disoriented than you thought you were, because the only people you see on the bridge are you and the guards pointing at you- oh.

You stop crawling and look at them, pushing back the hair from your face as you stumble to your feet. The buffer guard has the smaller one planted firmly before himself like a shield. You sigh and they squeak. Then the bigger one cries out-

“Adeptus Xiao!”

This bitch. You probably are delirious because by now you’ve lost any semblance of self control and feel nothing but fury. Xiao’s going through something right now! You’re not a ghost! Isn’t this supposed to be an era of mortals?

“COWARDS!” You howl, launching yourself at the duo and throw aside the shorter guard with a strength you didn’t know you possessed. Before you can grab the bigger one and clamp his lips shut with your bare fingernails, however, you feel slender, firm arms wrap around your waist and tug you gently back against a warm torso.

Xiao’s long, elaborate sleeve drapes over your front as he holds you. You feel his breath against your neck. You’re immediately consumed by worry so potent you can barely recall what you were even angry about. He leans into you a little and you press your palm against his cheek.

He seems exhausted.

✦—————————————✦

You ended up taking Xiao home that night- or was it morning? You wish you knew. All you do know is that he slumped against you and you half walked, half dragged him home, providing no explanation to the Millelith guards (they didn’t demand one either.)

Xiao drowsed off as soon as you got home and once you’ve sufficiently fussed over him, cocooned him in layers upon of blankets (it’s cold out) and put copious amounts of snacks and water on the bedside table, you make your way over to the couch and crash out.

Just in case.

Sleep takes you easily, pushing past your desperate, incoherent rambles, bringing your body some much needed rest. You awaken when you feel the sun jab rudely at your eyes with its bright, unswerving fingers.

It’s nearly afternoon.

You push yourself up slowly till you’re seated, checking for tiredness or any injuries. None. You’re positive this time- you’re in your right senses.

Your face flushes when you recall what happened yesterday. Or was it today? No matter. Praying to never see those guards again, you slide off the couch and make your way towards your bedroom.

Xiao’s upright, alert and giving his ungloved hands a glare so severe you nearly flinch. When he turns towards you, though, his eyes soften to a degree that might make one doubt him even capable of anger. You can’t help but mirror his softness.

You can’t help feeling a bit downcast, however, and you suspect it shows. Racking your brains for something- anything- to say, you part your lips, but only end up exhaling. You’re having trouble meeting his eyes. You suspect he feels the same.

You stand at the threshold for several moments before finally making your way in, and Xiao’s off the bed in an instant. You feel hands grip your heart and twist when he moves wordlessly across the room, away from you, gesturing towards the bed.

You hate it.

Xiao lives in terror of losing his loved ones- paranoia makes him check in on them from afar, gift amulets, slay any evil that might hurt them. Scores of times he’s caught you before you fell, warned you of danger, reminded you to take care of yourself before you even noticed something amiss.

You know him keeping his distance is him ensuring your safety. Him showing you he cares. It serves only to heighten your anguish.

This has been among your worst fears since the moment you began to care for him- that he’d consider himself a danger to someone he loves.

“Xiao,” you whisper, and your voice wavers more than you wanted to, is softer than you intended. He meets your eyes at that, finally, finally and your chest constricts at his wary gaze. You’re tempted to make light of it- tell him you’re fine, banter a little- but you know that’ll only leave him with a heavier heart, wondering when he’d hurt someone next. You need to address this now, for his sake.

“Hey.” You smile. Good, your voice didn’t waver this time. “Are you…” You trail off. How do you even begin to talk about this?

This isn’t awkward, this is a minefield, except it’ll blow up in his face if you mess up somehow. Your heart quickens.

You try to calm yourself. What does Baizhu say? Don’t borrow anxiety from the future? The future is in motion right now, Baizhu! Useless man.

“I’m sorry.”

You blink rapidly, nonplussed. “What—”

“I’m sorry,” he repeats, in a tone so repentant you almost respond with a hurried ‘it’s okay’ despite him having done nothing wrong. Despite it all, a tiny laugh bubbles up in your chest.

Baizhu, that silly old man (he’s your age). You suppose he is right sometimes. (Always.)

You’ve both lived too long, have survived too much to worry about something as small as this. Sure, in a vacuum, it is scary- but truth be told you feel fine- in fact you think you have an even better understanding now of the agony that has become his everyday, that he has endured for eons. This is something you can fix.

You smile and make your way towards Xiao, draw him into your embrace. He makes a quiet sound of protest that’s promptly muffled by you pushing his head affectionately into your shoulder. He exhales, then kisses it and remains in your arms but makes no move to wrap you in his.

That’s fine. You exhale . Xiao feels your breath waft over his ear, your warm, chapped lips as they brush over his face, landing tiny kisses. Your heart continues beating.

You’re there, right with him. Safe. Alive. Alright.

You sway gently, just holding him until eventually he places his palms on your waist and draws you a bit closer, ever so gently. As though you were the soft, powdery wings of a tiny butterfly in the dry summer months.

Before he can apologise- you do. You’re composed at first when you murmur an apology and explain how you came across him- but quickly become teary eyed when you recall how he looked up in that tree, mourning, all alone. His heart hurts. He hates seeing you cry, hates that he caused it- but he finds it difficult to dwell on anything else but the fact that you saw his monstrous, contaminated form and thought him beautiful. That you instantly wanted to hold him close. He feels dizzy.

“And,” you continue, sniffling, “I couldn’t think of anything else. I just felt overwhelmed. I just wanted to- to comfort you.” You’re not going to mention the voices and the pain. Maybe in a few decades. Maybe on your deathbed when it won’t matter anyway. You hear Baizhu’s ‘tsk tsk’ in your head and some vague speech about trust and communication, but you don’t care enough about that right now.

“And then I fainted.” You shrug. “Then I’m guessing you brought me to Baizhu? But I’m so sorry. It’s not your fault at all. I should’ve known to be more careful-“

“Please don’t lie to me.” His voice is soft, strained. He wishes you’d tell him the truth. Was it that much worse? “Tell me what else happened. Did it hurt? Do you feel better now? I’m so-“

You clamp a hand over his mouth. “It’s not your fault!” You protest. “What if some Inazuman wrestler guy threw me at you and you broke your arm, that wouldn’t be my fault- shh don’t interrupt me.” You put your other palm over the first and he exhales, warm breath wafting over your knuckles. You feel calmer already. The wonders of Xiao’s hugs never cease to impress.

“And… yeah, it hurt a bit. There were voices in my head.” He looks stricken. You consider making a garbage joke to cheer him up, but remember you were trying to be a mature adult and sigh. “My body hurt, too. Is that what it’s like for you? All the time?”

He hesitates, but nods with a sigh. “I’ve had centuries to get used to it, however.” You wait for him to draw you even closer, but he’s just looking, taking in your features. He looks as though he’s reassuring himself but not with much relief in sight.

You draw closer on your own instead, with a snort. “It all happened so fast, though. And it… it sucked honestly, even if it was just a couple of minutes. I’m sorry it’s like that for you every day.”

“It lessens with good company.” He finally looks relieved- apparently enough to even jest a little. “Which is likely why it worsens with you.”

You gasp in mock outrage. Maybe Baizhu was right about this whole communication thing. This is going well so far- or maybe not, because the next thing to come gently out Xiao’s mouth is a request to not approach him if he’s having a breakdown henceforth.

“Sorry, no can do. Nuh-uh.”

You swear you see question marks form over his head. “This is not a ‘nuh-uh’ situation, (Name). You could die or develop chronic health issues.” He frowns. “I don’t think-“

“I grasp the gravity of this situation,” you retort, a bit frustrated too. “I’ll stay away if I see or sense the Karmic debt- I will make some other adeptus come to you, though-“

“You cannot make the adep-“

“I will.“

He sighs.

“And,” you continue, “I’ll keep an eye. From afar, but I’ll keep an eye on you and wait for it to be over, before I can come to you again. And if you’re ever sad in a more ordinary sort of way, I will not leave your side, no matter what.” You press your forehead to his with a quiet sigh. “Because I love you. And it hurts when you’re in pain.”

There’s a pause, with neither of you moving. You hear a group of teenagers laugh outside and run past the house. You wonder if that blue haired brat from earlier is with them.

Xiao exhales, then finally (FINALLY!) wraps his arms around you and pulls you close, impossibly so. You rest your cheek against his as he gives you a rueful smile. You’ve won! Ah no, what was it Baizhu said? There’s no individual victor in relationships? Damn, you’re a good student.

But seeing Xiao so close once more… you’re certain you’ve won regardless.

✦—————————————✦

The next couple of hours are spent relaxing, unwinding and examining one another for injuries (this is why you’re perfect together. Mutual respect? Mutual affection? Yes, but also mutual anxiety). A worried Baizhu also comes to pay a visit. He’s angry about you vanishing without notice but cools off quickly as you and Xiao assuage his worries. Changsheng is not so easily mollified and turns even more furious upon being called an ‘angry little noodle’ by you.

Come noon, you and Xiao make your way to Wanmin- neither of you are in much of a mood to cook.

Besides, your consolations have worked wonders and Xiao looks considerably calmer than he did in the morning. Not exactly cheerful, but a happy display is a rarity even on the best of days, so you acquiesce. He’s still careful and is being extra-gentle with you, but you’re glad he’s not blaming himself for not noticing you sooner anymore.

Unbeknownst to you, though, his eyes are on you constantly. Truth be told, he’s only really agreed to dine out in order to observe your movements, reactions to light and the crowd to check for any lingering effects of his Karma. You’ve decimated his morbid expectations though (much to his immense relief)- cheerier than ever, you buy bread and meat for any stray animals you come across, happily greet the friends you bump into and tilt your face upwards to bemusedly watch the clouds form increasingly obscene shapes (what are you up to, Retainer?)

He's a little stunned at how quickly everything happened- he expected his culpability to haunt him for much longer and feels guilty for getting over it so fast. It’s not that he doesn’t care- you matter to him more than anything in Liyue and were anything to actually happen to you because of him, he would truly would have lost the strength he used to cling to his brittle life.

It's just… a bit absurd. You haven’t raised a fuss at all about yourself, besides complaining a little initially. You comforted him instead, and were confused when he tried to reciprocate because “it happened, but it’s over. It’s not your fault and I really am okay now.” You seem to have meant it when you told him it was a terrible but distant memory. In your defence, the ordeal did take only a couple of minutes before he teleported you abruptly to Bubu Pharmacy (he still owes Baizhu an apology for dropping a whole human being into his arms and bolting).

So he allows himself to relax (the voices in his head tell him to split himself on his spear. He hurt you once, he’ll do it again. He imagines you screaming at them to piss off and ends up smiling softly instead).

He shakes his head when you ask what he’s amused about, bright eyed and curious and he gives you the fondest of expressions when you glance away and up at Katheryne. Xiangling teasingly gags at him from behind you, then yelps and runs into the kitchens to dodge Shenhe’s glares.

Xiao wishes you picked a table in the back- the Adventurer’s Guild is plainly visible from where you’re seated and something up there clearly has you distracted. No matter. At least now he can take you in without interruptions.

You look invested- eyes narrowing with amusement first, then further to slits with annoyance. Startled, he turns to see exactly what evoked such disdain from you, and his eyes meet that of a dark haired man, presently engaged in conversation with an elderly gentleman dressed in Fontaine’s fashions. Maybe. Those shoes aren’t fashionable anywhere, he’s pretty sure. Menogias would’ve wept.

The man that’s earned your ire happens to appear quite exquisite by mortal standards- handsome and tall and- Xiao shoots you a hurried glance. Yes, that’s anger, thank the skies-

“You see that guy over there?” You bring the glass to your lips for a sip before lowering it with more force than is necessary. “He’s the jerk I told you about. The one who’s stealing half my commission.”

Xiao blinks. “But he hasn’t found anyone according to the description, has he?”

You frown. “Obviously not. If she really did- hm?”

He turns in his chair to see Katheryne and the men approach- one barrel chested and tall, the other slight and elderly, shuffling along with the pace and gait of a caterpillar. When they get a bit closer, however, the old man stiffens, then breaks into a rapid hobble, before pausing right before Xiao and bursting into tears.

What the- this is fine. He’s not too close. Xiao is still and wide eyed like a startled deer. You bite back the urge to kiss his face all over, then fight the momentary urge to punt the old man as he reaches out to touch Xiao’s face, still bawling. Xiao jerks and stands. The man turns to you as you grab his arm and try to gently sooth him, smacking you away.

“Oh,” he blubbers. “So many nights you’ve haunted my dreams. How I’ve waited all these years. I knew- I knew-“ he coughs, vehemently shakes his fist to keep the rest of you away. “Don’t come closer! I know her- that’s the love of my life!”

Mortals.

The lovely maiden in a tree being Xiao did not surprise you in the slightest. It was a bit startling but you feel incredibly foolish for not connecting the dots earlier.

Pretty maiden up in a tree.

“Really, who else could it be?” You bite into the muffin you bought on the way home.

“Xi- Cloud Retainer.”

“Oh. Is she pretty?”

Xiao tilts his head. He’s adorable. You resist the urge to haul him back down the road for another meal- what a miserable date, that was.

After finally catching Xiao the old man first wept into his chest (he reminded you of an unused hair tie with how scrunched up and tiny he was. The old man, to be clear, not Xiao. Xiao is tiny bit firm), then clasped his clawed hands within his own soft, wrinkly ones (you’re glad Xiao didn’t forget his gloves and you can tell he’s even gladder) and begged Xiao to go with him to Fontaine.

Xiao’s answer being an alarmed, emphatic ‘no’ only succeeded in making the man cling tighter and cry harder.

You did start feeling terrible for the poor guy by that point, so you gave him a handkerchief and some water, sat him down and once he was finally calm and lucid, you explained to him that this was not the maiden he saw all those years ago, but in fact, your beloved.

Your kindness evaporated fast though when he smacked you in the face with your own hankie and swore to never pay you your commission. You left to eat elsewhere at that point. That sounded like a problem for your (rather distressed) ‘partner.’

Presently, though, you’re waiting for Xiao to tell you more about Cloud Retainer. You’ve surmised two things from his slip ups; she lives in the harbour nowadays, and her name starts with “Sh.”

You’re honestly convinced it’s Shenhe, and even more so when Xiao tells you she’s more imposing than pretty. When you tell him your guess, though, he gives an uncharacteristic laugh, so bright and warm. You want to store it in a bottle to sip it on the cold days.

When you tell him so upon reaching home, he just laughs again (!) and kisses your entwined hands. He prays you won't let go.

[hollowed-theory-hall]

I've been reading your posts for awhile now and I genuinely enjoy reading your takes especially with Harry's characterization. so I've been wondering what are your thoughts on the lupin family? especially with teddy? although I still kinda dislike his parents' relationship i still think he's an interesting character and i wished people talked about him more outside of shipping. What would his relationship with harry be growing up? Also Lyall's death was never really confirmed, only hope's was so do you think he and Andromeda raised teddy instead of harry? It still feels odd that remus chose a 17 year old to be his son's godfather surely there were other suitable candidates than a literal teenager.

Thank you so much 💕

So, this is like entirely in my headcanon space since I did not watch/read Cursed Child and I'm not planning to. I don't consider any of the post-book material canon at all except the Quidditch World Cup in 2014, which I accept since it's fun and doesn't go out of its way to ruin established characters. I enjoyed reading it more than the epilogue, so that's something.

That being said, I often prefer to ignore many aspects of the epilogue and the World Cup article when headcanoning post-books events. I also don't engage much with next-gen stuff since I'm more interested in Harry's generation, but I do have some thoughts about Teddy.

With all this out of the way, let's talk about the Lupins.

So, I like Remadora, I think they're alright for the little we see of them. Tonks just deserves so much better than Lupin in my mind. I mean, he wanted to leave her, after he got her pregnant, for his own sense of inadequacy, guilt, and allergy to taking responsibility. Harry was so justified in ripping Remus a new one.

Now, I mentioned here, how I think Remus didn't make Harry Teddy's godfather because he thought Harry was ready (though Harry is more mature and responsible at 17 than Remus is at 37, so...), but as a way to promise Harry that he isn't going to push him, or Tonks, or anyone who loves him away anymore. It was Remus trying to apologize in a weird way that didn't really land. Especially since he goes and dies right after. (can you tell Remus is my least favorite marauder?)

Now, I find it really hard to imagine Remus as a father for Teddy had he lived. Like, I can see Tonks being a cool mom and her and Teddy matching hair colors when walking together and messing with people (and I think she could become more responsible had she lived longer). Remus is a harder one for me to envision as a parent. I mean, I think he'd be relieved that Teddy wasn't born a werewolf, but whenever he'd look at Teddy and Nymphadora, I think Remus couldn't help but feel sorry for himself and like he doesn't deserve them. While making Harry Teddy's godfather was meant to be a sort of promise, I can't see Remus fixing his habits so quickly. I mean, he'd try. But I can also see him, trying to up and leave a few times only to be talked out of it by various characters.

I think his behavior is going to put a lot of stress on Tonks too. Like, While I think they do love each other, I don't know how well their relationship would work in the long run if Remus doesn't bother to work on himself and get his fucking act together.

But in the books they both died, so Teddy is spared the mess his parents' relationship likely would've been and is instead stuck with a different mess of being an orphan with a 17-year-old caretaker. (This kid cannot win. Maybe because both his parents were kinda irresponsible and didn't quite get a grasp on adulthood when he was born)

So, post-DH, Remus and Tonks are dead, Ted Tonks is dead and we are left with a grieving Andromeda who lost all her family (again), a grieving Harry who just keeps losing people, and a newly orphaned barely a-year-old Teddy Lupin.

I think Teddy is an interesting mirror to baby Harry and Neville in a way. His parents died/couldn't take care of him because of Voldemort/his followers and he was left with only a godfather/grandmother. Teddy got both and his godfather isn't in Azkaban, so he has it a little better.

I like to imagine Harry makes sure to be super involved with Teddy's childhood, but I can't imagine a 17-year-old (almost 18) Harry post-war and maybe going back to Hogwarts for 8th year (depends on headcanon) being in a state to take care of a baby full time. I like to think Andy helps out in that first year a lot. I think Andy needs someone, some family to get her through loss. And I think Harry could enjoy Andy's company too. I'm sure she has plenty of stories about a young Sirius, and maybe even a young James, and in my headcanon, Andy somewhat adopts Harry as an extra son too.

Which means she ends up seeing way more Weasleys than she ever expected to. I think the Weasleys, who just lost Fred would understand a lot. I mean, both Andy and Molly lost a child and other family. I want Andromeda be more involved with all of them post-canon. That's my wish.

So Harry is Teddy's official guardian, but he spends loads of time with his grandma and the Weasleys growing up probably. Like, I don't mind him and Victoire being together, though I wouldn't necessarily have been my preferred choice, but I don't really care. They're probably childhood besties because they grew up together.

As for Teddy's relationship with Harry, I think Harry would end up treating him more like a much younger brother than a son. I mean, when Teddy would be 10, Harry would just be 27. Don't get me wrong, Harry could, technically, be his dad, but I think their dynamic is going to be different than that of Harry with his own children. Just because of how young and traumatized Harry is when he gets Teddy.

So, I think their relationship would have its tense points, but they'd also love each other. Like, you know Harry would do his best. He'd be super protective over Teddy, Andy would be, too. Like, no one messes with this kid.

But I also kinda want Teddy making a: "you're not my dad" joke/comment when Harry tries to send him to his room or something and Harry doesn't know if he wants to laugh or cry the first time it happens. But I think it would become a recurring joke Harry laughs from.

I think the first years would be the roughest. Everyone's grieving and trying to settle back into a semblance of normal life. Harry never really had a "normal life" he's gonna have no idea what to do with himself and I think Teddy could be a purpose he dedicates himself to. I think these two and Andy could all help each other figure their lives out. But as Teddy grows older and things settle down, it becomes easier.

While I think Harry and Teddy would end up really close, it's not going to be exactly the same relationship Harry and Sirius had. Teddy is going to have a happy childhood, Harry and Andy wouldn't let it be any other way, so he won't have the same grief and trauma Harry did as a child. Like, their dynamic would be less desperate, I think. Like, Harry wouldn't need to stay in a cave and eat rats for Teddy, their situation would be way chiller. Like, I think Harry would be constantly confused about how Teddy ended up being such a cool kid/teen because he doesn't think he could've raised him like that and he would joke about it with Teddy who'd be all sarcastic like: "Obviously, I raised myself here,"

Like, I imagine Teddy with his mother's punk fashion sense and goofiness (the goofiness I believe was 100% shared by Ted Tonks), Remus' voice and constant self-doubt, Andromeda's posture (he sits with his back perfectly straight, okay, Andy didn't let him slouch by the table), and Harry's sarcasm. He's like this mix of them and still his own person.

I think Teddy is likely to go through quite a lot of personal phases to try and figure out his own identity and how he portrays himself. Becouse everyone treats him as the godson of the famed boy who lived, but his dead parents were the last Metamorphmagus and a Werewolf. And he is very close to his grandma, who is a disowned daughter of House Black. Like, this is a kid rip for angst about who he is and who people see him as and him being a Metamorphmagus really leans into it.

Like, a young Teddy making sure to look like Harry in public because he's proud of the connection. Or Teddy mimicking Remus or Tonks' appearance from photos when he thinks about them and misses them or wants to remind strangers who his parents actually are becouse they seem to forget. Like, that could be super fun.

I think Harry's kids would really like Teddy. He's like a cool older cousin/brother who lives with them. Like, I can see them really looking up to him and Teddy would complain to Harry about being followed around by a 3-year-old that won't leave him alone and Harry would just find the whole thing amusing.

(I can also see a post-war Andromeda getting back in touch with Narcissa, so you could involve the Malfoys too if you felt like it. Though I feel like Teddy would just, not like Lucius much)

(Also also, I think Lyall is dead. I feel like if he was alive we would know, yk?)

[deswhomst]

If we have to classify the Blacks as good, morally grey, or bad, this is what it would look like:

Bellatrix: bad

Andromeda: good

Narcissa, Sirius, Regulus: morally grey

But I also feel like there are branches to being morally grey. Sometimes, a character who is morally grey leans towards being a good person more and other times, they are more bad (I do not mean to imply that morally grey characters have to be either good or bad but it’s not a 50/50 split, either).

From what I have seen, most people would say that the Black brothers are more bad—or, at least, Regulus is—and Narcissa is more good but I think it’s the opposite (some might argue Sirius is completely good but that’s not the case either, imo).

Sirius was on the right side of the war. He was in the Order of the Phoenix straight out of school. He accepted and helped his werewolf best friend. He definitely had his flaws, as in the prank and the bullying tendencies but it’s not enough to outweigh the good (especially when we consider how he was raised and that it’s not easy completely detaching from what you’ve seen all your life).

Regulus was a Death Eater and he willingly joined Voldemort. That rules out him being a good person in most people’s books, and that’s fair. Why I think he’s more good than bad, though, is that we genuinely have more proof of his goodness and only assumptions of him being an asshole. He drank the potion for Kreacher, he gave up his life when he realised what he had signed up for. He was 18 when he died, and he took the Mark at the age of 16. He talked about ruling over muggles and muggle-borns for years before that (had to be at most 13-14 when he started?) but never about hurting them. Many adults were wrongly influenced by Voldemort at that start, too, so it’s not surprising a kid who only had those influences went that route as well.

Now, Narcissa is loyal to her family. She is self-serving, too. She is not weak or defenseless but rather a genuinely strong woman who knows what she wants and ends up getting it. She is definitely not a coward, either. She literally lied to Voldemort’s face directly and then walked into the Battle of Hogwarts with her husband to look for their son, wandless. Narcissa did not care for Voldemort and his agenda at all but she made no complaints as long as she was in a powerful and comfortable position. She grew up as royalty and married into the Malfoys. She’s the only Black who made it out of both wars without losing her family (second family, at least). Narcissa is not nice or kind or sweet or innocent or weak or a coward. An interesting or good character doesn’t need to be any of those things. Some people portray her like such a loser who was forced into the life she was living when she’s literally a winner and did exactly what served her well. Make no mistake, if it meant her and her family’s good, Narcissa would let a thousand innocent people die.

This is not to say that she had an easy life with no issues!! Of course, there were huge problems that she went through herself and it’s okay to feel bad for her about those things but what I personally don’t like is painting her as a victim and watering down her entire character to make her a good person.

Age genuinely matters as well. Sirius was a reckless teenager but I believe if he had been given a chance to actually grow up, he would have matured out of the habits that made him bad. We can’t judge him by his behavior in the books as he had spent twelve years in Azkaban by that point. Regulus died when he was freshly out of school so he never got to grow up, either. Narcissa, however, was around forty years old by the second war so she had a lot of time (many war-free years in between) to change if she hated her life. She didn’t hate her life.

Again, this is not to say characters can’t simply be morally grey but rather to talk about the distinction between the Black brothers and Narcissa.

[himluv]

Just a Taste

Chapter 28(?!?!) of Say My Name (Say it Twice) is here! Read it below or over on AO3!

Now that he and Rook are together, Lucanis decides he might just try acting on some of these new feelings he's been struggling with late at night.

There was no place that Rook could go that Lucanis would not follow, but the Necropolis put a stutter in his step every time. Even without Spite, he didn’t think he’d be comfortable in the dank, dusty, cavernous place. It reeked of incense and funeral bouquets, and the backs of his eyeballs itched furiously at the rampant magic that kept the crypts intact. 

It was a place that vaunted death, and while Lucanis was well-versed in the causes, he did not like to dwell on questions of what came after. 

He was not a religious man. He firmly believed you only get one life that could so easily be curtailed, so it was best to live well. The Necropolis suggested there could be more to life and death, and Lucanis had no interest in exploring those possibilities for himself. 

While the Necropolis made him uncomfortable, it made Spite irritable. Even more so than usual. The demon did not play well with other spirits, especially ones as benign and courteous as those in the desiccated halls of the Necropolis. 

So, they were both quiet and discomfited as they followed Rook and Emmrich. Rook seemed, if not entirely at ease in the crypts, at least curious about the magic required to maintain them. She and Emmrich spoke in hushed, reverent tones that Lucanis only heard part of. 

“I didn’t expect it, but Strife and I are getting along quite well,” Emmrich said. 

Spite growled at the mention of the elder Veil Jumper, but if Emmrich heard it, he chose to ignore it. And Spite wasn’t the only one troubled by mention of Strife. 

The Professor might be oblivious to it, but to Lucanis, Rook’s discomfort with the conversation was clear. Her posture was rigid, shoulders back and head high, despite the downward tilt of her chin. 

“But where to go with him…” Emmrich continued. 

Asking Rook for advice about Strife was reasonable, but Emmrich didn’t know about their recent fight. And Lucanis could tell that she would rather not speak about her mentor at the moment. 

“Does he like coffee?” Lucanis asked. He hadn’t meant to, but he’d needed to alleviate Rook’s unease. He winced. “Or... knives?”

There was a beat of silence as Emmrich and Rook both turned to look at him. Emmrich’s brow was furrowed as he considered it, but Rook could barely bite back her grin. 

Mierda, what was he thinking? He knew nothing of Strife and even less of romance. He should not be giving advice to Emmrich of all people. The man was stylish and confident, and doubtless had much more experience than Lucanis. 

“Sorry, Emmrich,” he said. “Rook might be better at this.”

She gave him a chastising look, one he knew meant he’d hear just what she thought of that later. And while she would never convince him that he was good at flirting, he looked forward to her efforts to do so. 

As the mages fell back into discussion of where Emmrich should take his date, Lucanis let them lead the way through the dusty halls, content to watch their backs. Besides, he very much enjoyed the view of Rook’s hips when she jogged ahead of him. A view it was getting harder and harder for him to ignore.

Want. Rook! Spite said.

Lucanis shot him an ugly look. He did not need the demon’s needling now, not with Emmrich close enough to hear. 

Spite’s grin widened. Want to watch. To touch. To TASTE!

“Enough,” he hissed at the demon. 

“Everything all right back there?” Rook asked. She glanced over her shoulder at him, a small smile on her lips. 

“Fine,” he said. 

Rook wants too! Spite glared at him. Would make. Rook. Happy!

Lucanis rolled his eyes. The last thing he needed was his demon encouraging his more… salacious thoughts. They were out of control as it was. Luckily, Spite got distracted with chasing a wisp, and Lucanis was able to follow after Rook (and her lovely, wide hips) in peace. 

A few days later, he and Rook were sitting in the armchairs in the dining hall, enjoying a rare cup of morning coffee. She was going to Arlathan with Davrin and Assan later that afternoon, and she was always jittery before a trip home. Partly out of excitement – she truly loved the forest – but also because she was bound to see Strife. 

So, in an effort to ease her nerves, Lucanis had offered a light breakfast and coffee. Few of their colleagues were fond of mornings, so they had the dining hall to themselves. The meal, coffee, and easy conversation seemed to be working. Rook’s eyes were clear and her smile bright as she sat and chatted with him. They were discussing favorite books, and while their mutual love of reading was exciting, they were learning that they had very little overlap in their reading history. 

She shook her head. “It’s been so long since I had time to a read a book,” she said. 

He nodded. “Bellara has made it her mission to get me caught up on all I’ve missed this past year.” He said it so casually, without any consideration, that for a heartbeat he didn’t understand why Rook’s smile melted into a frown. 

“Oh, Lucanis–”

He raised a hand. “It’s fine, Embria,” he said. It was more than fine, actually. For the first time since his escape, he hadn’t thought of the Ossuary when he alluded to the time he’d lost there. There had been no water thundering in his ears, no bands of ice cinching his chest tight. There’d merely been the facts of the matter: he’d missed a year’s worth of publications. 

“I didn’t mean to upset you,” he added when he noticed the concern in her eyes.

“You didn’t,” she said. She took a deep breath and looked down into her coffee cup, suddenly timid. “I don’t want you to think you can’t talk to me about it.”

Something in his chest twinged, and he had to look away. “I don’t want to talk about it,” he said. The bitterness in his voice surprised him. It’d only been a few short months since Rook had saved him, but he was tired of thinking about and talking around his imprisonment. 

Her hand was warm on his forearm, her thumb rubbing soothing circles into his skin. “But, if you need to,” she said. 

Lucanis gave her a tiny, half-smile. “I know,” he said. “But, you’ve already seen it.”

Her look was skeptical, as if she didn’t fully believe him. Which… was fair. She’d seen his thoughts, his fears and insecurities. She had not seen the actual torment, the memories that replayed in his dreams on the bad nights. If he could help it, she never would.

“Embria,” he said. “You know my thoughts. I’m all right.” He squeezed her hand where it rested on his arm. It still amazed him, how she touched him so easily, and it amazed him even more how much he looked forward to her touch. 

She squeezed his arm, then released him. “Okay.”

The dining hall door opened and Emmrich entered the room. He hummed a little tune and had a definite jaunt to his step. And, most tellingly, his clothes were every so slightly rumpled. It was clear that the mage had only just arrived back at the Lighthouse.

Lucanis smiled. “Emmrich,” he said. “How did it go?” 

The professor grinned. “Very well, thank you!”

Lucanis glanced at Embria fondly. “I knew Rook would give you good advice.”

She snorted at that and rolled her eyes. “I told him to go look at bugs.”

He frowned. “Bugs?”

She shrugged. “There’s a cave where the bugs glow like veilfire.”

He blinked at her. That sounded… beautiful. Possibly gross, but still beautiful.

“Actually,” Emmrich said, his smile sharpening and a hand on one hip. “As it turns out, Strife does indeed collect knives. So, your suggestion was excellent as well, Lucanis.”

“Really?” He stared at the mage and pointedly ignored Rook’s grin in his peripheral vision. “That…” he shook his head. “Has never worked for me.” He sat forward, his own smile widening. “I can get you the name of my blacksmith.”

“That would be greatly appreciated,” Emmrich said. 

Embria downed the last of her coffee and stood. “At least that means Strife should be in a good mood today.”

Emmrich’s mustache lifted with a wry smile. “I daresay he will be.”

Rook made a disgusted noise, her nose crinkling adorably. 

Lucanis looked between them for a moment, sure he was missing something. Why would Strife’s good mood be cause for disgust–

“Mierda,” he said, heat rising to his cheeks as he understood just what the mages were talking around. Good for Emmrich, he supposed, but that was not information Lucanis needed, nor wanted. First Taash and Harding, now Emmrich? And if the lingering looks between Neve and Davrin meant what he thought they might…

Was everyone in the Lighthouse having sex?

Well, everyone but him and Rook. And maybe Bellara, though he’d seen her blush whenever she wrote in her notebook. Maker only knew what she was writing about. 

Jealous? Spite whispered at his ear. 

No, and he needed to curtail this train of thought – Emmrich could hear Spite. 

The demon sniffed the air and grinned. Ahhhhhhh. Nervous! Afraid. To want!

“Lucanis,” Emmrich said, interrupting the demon. “Were you really spurned once for gifting someone a knife?”

Rook looked at Lucanis, her eyebrows high with surprise. 

He shrugged. “Not ‘spurned’ so much as ignored.” He shook his head. “I just… don’t have Illario’s gift for flirting.”

Rook curled her lip at his comparison to his cousin. He knew she disagreed with him, but she was hardly a neutral party. And it was an objective fact that Illario was far more charming than he was. 

“Well,” Emmrich said. “We all approach things in our own way.” The older man’s frown was gentle. Patient. “Who was it, if I might ask? The recipient of your gift.”

Lucanis shifted in his seat. “A Crow from another House.”

Rook gave him a curious, amused look. 

“It was a long time ago,” he added. 

“I’m surprised that the gift wasn’t better received, then,” Emmrich said. He sounded almost miffed on Lucanis’s behalf, which was nice, but completely unnecessary. Whatever fledgling feelings he’d carried for Viago had long since faded. 

“You’ve met him,” he said. “He’s very… particular.”

Rook’s gaze burned into him, and he knew she had at least a dozen questions she wanted to ask. Lucanis focused on his coffee while she waited for Emmrich’s tea to steep. Once he left, she refilled their cups with the last of the coffee. 

“So,” she said, handing him his cup as she returned to her seat. “A very particular Crow from another House.”

“Yes.”

Her smile only widened at his terse reply. “This wouldn’t happen to be a certain Fifth Talon, would it?”

He rolled his eyes. “It was a long time ago, Rook.” 

Her smile softened as she reached for his hand. “I think it’s sweet,” she said. 

Sweet. He wondered, would she still think him sweet if she knew how he thought of her, late at night? How he imagined her touch, her taste, when the night drew long? How, when his dreams weren’t haunted by the Ossuary, they always featured her? 

She’d said she would leave initiating the more… sensuous aspects of their relationship to him. And while he knew he wasn’t ready for all that could entail, he couldn’t deny he very much wanted a taste. Just a little hint of her desire, to get him through the next aching night. 

Lucanis took her hand and pressed his lips to her knuckles. A soft, chaste kiss they’d shared many times now. Then he turned her hand to press his next kiss to the heel of her palm. 

“Sweet,” he murmured, the word ghosting over her skin. He glanced over at her, saw the surprised heat in her eyes, and his own desire surged through him at the sight. His instincts screamed at him to look away, to hide this feeling from her.

But Lucanis didn’t want to hide anymore. Not from Rook. So, he held her gaze and allowed his own to go molten. 

“And if I don’t want to be sweet?” He asked, his voice low and controlled. He pressed another kiss to the inside of her wrist and hummed when he felt her pulse jump against his lips. 

She watched him as if stunned, her eyes dark and lips parted. She licked her lips and blinked. “What do you want?”

He hummed again and let their hands return to the table between them, still interlaced. He wasn’t entirely sure. He wanted to touch her, to explore her skin and see which spots made heat bloom in her cheeks and her breath hitch. But that wasn’t an activity for midmorning in the dining hall. Plus, she had an outing to prepare for, and Lucanis wanted to take his time with that particular experiment. 

He released Rook’s hand and moved to stand before her. She looked up at him, crystal grace eyes wide and wondering. Then he leaned forward, planting a hand on each arm of her chair, framing her between his arms, his body hovering over hers. Her breath hitched, her chest heaving beneath him, and Lucanis let a slow, pleased smile claim his lips. 

Slowly, he leaned closer to her. Rook lifted her face, her eyes fluttering closed, and for a breath he marveled at her like this. Flushed pink and just a little desperate. She was perfect. 

Rook. WANTS!

Yes, she most certainly did.

Lucanis leaned in and pressed a kiss to her temple. “Have fun with Davrin and Assan today,” he said at her ear. She shuddered, and then he pulled away from her with a mischievous grin as she let out a frustrated huff. For a moment he feared he’d done something wrong, perhaps had even upset her, but her frustration turned to an awed chuckle as she opened her eyes and saw his smile. 

“So,” she breathed. “Lucanis Dellamorte is a tease.”

His grin widened, and he ran a hand through his hair. “For you? Yes,” he said. “I think I might be.”

Her blush deepened and she bit her lip, looking up at him with big, pleading eyes. Another gorgeous image to lock away in his mind for later. Then his doubt wormed its way back to the surface. 

“Is that all right?”

“Yes.” She nodded emphatically. “That?” She continued, gesturing at him with one hand while the other brushed her hair back over one ear. “That was… very good.”

It was his turn to blush. He cleared his throat and tugged at his waistcoat. “Good,” he said. 

She stood, eyeing him with plenty of residual heat. “Will I see you in the music room after dinner?”

His heart thumped in his chest, and his throat felt dry. But he thought of his own desire to touch her mere moments ago and nodded. 

“Good,” she said. Then she stood up on her toes and pressed a quick, chaste kiss to his cheek. She grinned at him, and then headed out into the bright fade-light of the courtyard. 

Lucanis stood there for a long moment, his hand coming up to touch where her lips had met his skin. “Mierda,” he whispered, shaking his head. 

He was going to kiss her tonight, he decided. They’d both waited long enough. And with his mind made up, now he just needed a distraction to pass the time. He glanced around the dining room, and decided he’d start by cleaning the kitchen. And, when that was done, if he still had Rook’s lips on his mind, he’d go workout. 

Tonight. Just a handful of hours and he would finally know if this first kiss truly tasted like honey and lavender cream. He suspected it wouldn’t. Because, if he had to guess, it would be even sweeter. 

[muse-hodgepodge]

The poor reformed skeleton jumps at the stranger's voice, not that surprised it's there but more at how loud it was too him. Sans had spoken quietly but that wasn't surprising as he was crying and that had sounded loud to him. Actually now that he was more awake and aware of his surroundings everything was loud and bright and certainly bordering on overstimulation. Thankfully the monster seems to be handling that in stride all things considered and he looks over to her with a crooked smile brought on by the cracks in his skull and holds up his hands to sign, "I've certainly been worse, but aside from having to readjust to things like brightness and volume I'm feeling quite alright all things considered... perhaps extremely tired. Thank you for, well, doing the impossible."

Sans meanwhile seems to pick up on his father's distress at the sensations around him and wisely avoids giving him a hug. He can't imagine how being shattered and trapped in the Void for a long time would affect a monster but it doesn't seem to be positive. The shorter skeleton wipes away the tears from his face and nods to Reyna while speaking up quietly, "thanks Rey... I'm sure we can reunite more in a better location yeah...? I don't know what's about to happen since we put him back in the timeline but if anyone finds him I'm sure he'd appreciate it if he was more adjusted first. Especially if that person happens to be Papyrus or Undyne." He loved them both but damn are they both loud as hell. And that is something Gaster didn't need right now. "Besides, since I'm technically not a scientist anymore I'm not allowed here and certainly not with guests." He chuckles at that while Gaster looks down with a frown knowing he was the reason that Sans quit doing something he loved.

Reyna stands back, giving Gaster the space needed to reform his body. It's quite interesting, to see how monsters seem to be able to choose how they form to an extent. Their bodies are simply an extension of their souls, a fascinating trait. She wonders what caused this to develop this for themselves? Questions she can ask at another more appropriate time.

"I'm glad you're both reunited. I can't imagine how painful an experience this been on both of you, mentally and physically. How are you both feeling right now?" She asks them.

[platinumrosetail]

Hey, back at it with another request for Genshin Impact. No crossover this time.

So this time I want to request a Furina!Reader x Neuvillette?

Furina!Reader is someone who reincarnated from our world the moment Furina was 'born' and tries desperately to keep to the plot. Basically, she has a breakdown due to stress and meets a recently reborn and very much still feral and dragony Neuvillette several years too early and well... canon goes into the trash can.

Examples being: Yandere husband Neuvillette, Furina!Reader adopting the Melusines and preventing Carole's death, Furina!Reader fostering Wriothesly because why not, oh and Neuvillette kidnaps Furina!Reader the first time he meets her and well... you can guess what happened. :)

Sorry I tried to be shorter, but I hope this works.

This is wonderful! Very interesting and love the new ideas you added into it! 😁🤩

Warning: noob author, female reader, yandere character, canon divergence a little, and others.

Character: neuvillette.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You were panicking, that’s honestly all you could do considering the predicament you somehow found yourself in currently.

Said predicament was that you had somehow reincarnated into Genshin…. As furina…. And not even before one of the traveler arrives, nope! It just had to be even before furina even met neuvilette.

If your hair wasn’t already white then you would have grey hair by now from the stress you gained from reincarnating into furina….

So, you just sucked it up for now and did your best to try and go with canon with a few mild changes. But what you didn’t know was all your hard work would be thrown out the window by a certain someone soon.

You had went out to one of the beaches Fontaine had and to be alone and gather your thoughts but ended up letting out all of your frustration, stress, and worries by crying

You were unaware that you would meet someone that you loved before you reincarnated but he would be quite different to how you previously knew him.

Neuvilette or as how he actually is called in the past leviathan felt a familiar power on the bank of the beach which he calls home, he goes and investigates out of curiosity and to make sure it isn’t a threat.

He wasn’t expecting to see the hydro archon here, especially crying; her tears going into the water of the ocean which was what alerted him of her presence.

When you looked up to try and dry your tears you weren’t expecting a familiar looking man in front of you….. naked.

You squeaked, covered your eyes and looked away as if that would help as it was burned into your mind of what you saw. Your actions confused leviathan as he doesn’t know why you did it, so as to find out why he came closer making you panic as you hear water shift from him walking closer.

He leaned down to your kneeling form and took your hands away from your face. You try to focus on his face as you know it would be dangerous if you looked a bit more down, mostly to keep yourself safe as you didn’t want to pass out flustered in front of your anime crush.

Leviathan looks at the expression that you have as you looked at him; trying to keep eye contact with him though would sometimes shift for half a second.

He had a sudden thought that you needed to be his even if you were the one to have gotten his power from his past life, he still wants to have you as his…. Mate. Yes, mate sounds right, he thinks as he continues to look at you with narrowed eyes before picking you up.

You didn’t know if you were going to get killed by neuvillette or what, after all you did have his power from his previous life and he might be mad especially since this was way too early to meet him than canon so he might react differently to how he originally acted when he and furina first met so you were taken aback when he picked you up out of nowhere and started heading back into the ocean.

You had been too stunned to realize that you were being taken to his home by him; and breathing under water but you chalk that up to being the hydro archon, that you didn’t think to try and stop him, that is if you could considering he might change his mind and kill you if he isn’t planning to do that at his home.

And with that you had became his mate and wife, but to be honest you weren’t complaining as you had always dreamed of this and read fanfics about him so you guess it’s alright to indulge a little bit.

It wasn’t until a couple of weeks past that you put your foot down and told him that you were needed at Fontaine and you needed to go now. He tried to argue about it but you weren’t budging which made him reluctantly give up after you gave a compromise that thankfully he agreed upon.

You finally arrived back to Fontaine, after getting leviathan some clothes. Apparently his name was leviathan and furina gave him a nickname so as to not cause fear to fontaines people, you don’t know why that wasn’t said in the game but for now you have bigger things to worry about.

You gave leviathan the name he had in the game so the people of Fontaine won’t be as wary as they could be if you decided to keep his original name as he was known in a bad light before you brought him, thankfully only known in his dragon form so he can be in his human form for now.

Like what with the drama that started after you shared with your subjects that you were now married and was expecting a child now. After you finally settled everything about the married and having a child drama you can finally relax…..

You spoke too soon…. Right after you started relaxing you came across the melusines near their birth father’s corpse, so you did what you could only think to do, adopt them as your daughters, you hope that even though you adopted them that things would still work out, of course you made sure that Fontaine won’t have anyone bully your daughters as it would be jail time or death if they picked on your daughters for not being human like in appearance which thankfully saved Carole from what happened to her in canon.

Afterwards your son was born and then you could relax a bit, your darling husband took care of everything after that so that you could rest with luciel; the name your son was given to by both you and leviathan/neuvillette.

It’s been a year or so after your son was born and it was going great!…. Until one day your son vanished. Neither you nor neuvillette knew where luciel was and was growing worried as the day goes by. Everyone in Fontaine was in high alert until one of your daughter found him and another child together.

You recognized this child as wriosthley, and it seemed this was before he was adopted by those evil people that shouldn’t be called parents. So you adopted him and at first he was a bit skeptical as you figured he experienced many horrors that would make him feel that way and you made sure to take your time making him feel comfortable, thankfully he warmed up to all of you after you had him try tea for the first time in his life.

After some of the events from the game happened you were relaxing while playing with a cat when a disguised arlecchino attacked you. You were so distracted that you forgot this scene.

Your screams of fright was alerted to your son who wasn’t far as he had also wanted to relax as well as protect you but he was doing something that was meant to be for a second which was the golden opportunity for arlecchino to strike.

Luciel immediately sprung into action; dropping what he was holding which was a cake for you to help you relax by having something you loved to eat.

Luciel stood in front of you, protecting you from the disguised arlecchino. He didn’t have to fight her as she ran away so as to return and think more of what she should do after discovering that the gnosis wasn’t with you.

The gnosis was in your husband’s hands as you felt it was wrong to have it since it was his power in the first place. Thankfully you had a plan to take care of the prophecy.

(A/n: hope yall like it! I had fun doing this! Anyway I don’t think I have anything else to say this time so hope yall have a wonderful day/evening/night!!!)

[love-archer]

More Than Meets the Eye

♡ what to do when your human is all blue? ♡

♡.Obey me! ♡♡.SFW! Fluff! ♡♡♡. @nalamyc00l I understand. Sometimes the world feels like it's got its magnifying glass pointed at all the wrong places, and you just need to feel seen for who you truly are, not just... what you look like, right? And here you go, babes <3 apologizes for the late post…

. . . M A M M O N !

♡ Standing slightly off to the side in the House of Lamentation, fiddling with the hem of your shirt. Memories of your time in the human world before devildom were whirling and spinning around what happened at the mall this evening.

♡ A shirt that caught your eyes didn’t make it into your purchase, the saleslady shaking her head and not so subtly saying your frame was ‘distracting’, ‘loud’ for the shirt style, herding you, like a child, to a different isle of clothes.

♡ It wasn’t a first that you were talked to like that but this time, the words landed a little too wrong and too strong to just brush off.

♡ Mammon, pacing back and forth, counting Grimm in his hands, almost bumps into you. "Oi! Watch it, Human! You're gonna make me drop my—" He stops mid-sentence, glancing at your expression. His own expression falters just a touch. He sees the way your shoulders are hunched, the way your eyes avoiding looking up. Something in your downcast posture stops him short of making any jokes or teasings.

♡ He might clear his throat, shifting his weight awkwardly. "Uh, hey. You alright? You lookin' kinda… wilted." He scratches the back of his neck, suddenly less sure of himself.

♡ Before you can finish telling him everything what happened before you pushed into the dressing room, Mammon would actually frown. "Who said somethin' to ya?  Who? Lemme at 'em!" His impulsive instincts, ones you surprisingly tamed down some time ago, would flare up. “Ya know more than damn well I can take anybody on! Tell me!” He wouldn't understand the nuance of body image and insecurities right away (he is perfect) but he would understand someone being unnecessarily ugly to his human.

♡ All his grumbling and huffing would cease when he sees how badly you just want to fade away. Stepping to you, his arms would pull you closer, shielding you from sight of other eyes. "Look, uh… don't listen to 'em, alright? Demons are just… demons."

♡ "You’re… you’re fine. More than fine. You’re… uh… you’re useful. Yeah, useful! And… and freaking…” He breathes in, mustering up the words he wanted to say for a stupid long while. “And… and you look good. Alright?” The whorls would fall softly onto your hair, his lips hovering there as if he wants to kiss you but he pulls back. “Now come on, let’s go get somethin’ to eat. My treat. Anything you want. Except my credit card. That’s still off-limits.”

. . . L E V I A T H A N !

♡ Leviathan’s room was dimly lit, the glow of multiple screens casting an eerie blue light across the floor filled with pillows, snacks and the such. You had sought him out, hoping that the familiar chaos of his space might distract you from the turmoil in your head. You slump onto his beanbag chair, trying to appear casual as you watch him intensely focused on a new MMORPG on his main screen. His fingers danced across the keyboard, commands firing off in rapid succession, his brow furrowed in concentration.

♡ Leviathan’s senses were sharper than they seemed. He might be socially awkward in the real world, but he was surprisingly attuned to shifts in mood, especially amongst those he considered his comrades – and you were definitely in his ‘party’.

♡ “Oi,” he grunts, without taking his eyes off the screen, “ I can hear you sighing over the music and it's making it hard to enjoy the screams of these newbies. You’re… radiating gloom. Like a… a debuff aura. Is it…" He repeatedly hit the spacebar, "is it Diavolo again? Did he make you participate in some… cringe human tradition again?”

♡ You shake your head, managing a weak smile. “No, nothing like that. Just… stuff.” You try to brush it off, but Leviathan, surprisingly, presses a bit further, though still glued to his game.

♡ “’Stuff’ is vague. Vague is… inefficient.” He pauses, fingers still flying. "Someone bothered you?"

♡ You sigh. "Yeah… kind of. Someone… someone at the mall said some really rude things about… well, about my…” you gesture vaguely at your chest, his eyes staring at you from the reflection of the PC screens.

♡ Leviathan finally pauses his game, his avatar momentarily frozen mid-battle, much to the potential dismay of his online teammates. He swivels his chair to face you, eyes widened.

♡ Once everything was ranted out, Leviathan stares blankly for a moment, then his face scrunches up in confusion, and then, indignation. “Distracting? Distracting how?" He gets up abruptly, pacing in his small space, “It's a SHIRT!" He scoffs, "Distracting?!"

♡ "Distracting is-is when a poorly designed UI element obscures vital information on the screen. THAT would make sense. And even then, just that’s bad game design, AND still… not your fault!”

♡ “Listen,” he says, turning back to you, his voice earnest, “Don’t listen to those… those low-level losers. They’re just jealous because your… your character is clearly a… a unique, high-stat build. Everyone else is just… generic.”

♡ He fumbles around his desk, pushing aside stacks of manga, finally retrieving a slightly dusty, but clearly treasured, limited edition anime figurine. He holds it out to you. "Aha!"

♡ “See?” He points at the exaggerated curves of the figure. “This… this is art! Designed with… with emphasis! It’s… it’s beautiful! Like… like you! In a… in a non-dull, totally meta way!"

♡ "She's cool, you're cooler." He propped her on your knee, patting your leg in what he hopes is comfort.

. . . B E E L Z E B U B !

♡ Beelzebub was happily munching on a mountain of spiced chicken wings, his movements focused and economical. You watched him, a small smile playing on your lips. It was… endearing, in a strange way, to see him so utterly absorbed in his food.

♡ You were in the kitchen with him because… well, you just enjoyed being around him. Even if most of his attention was usually on whatever edible item was nearest. Today, though, you felt more awkward than usual. You’d deliberately chosen the baggiest sweater you could find this morning, hoping to minimize… everything.

♡ Beel glanced up from his wings, noticing you properly for the first time. He blinked slowly, his usual calm gaze settling on you. “Hey?” he rumbled, his voice slightly muffled by food. “You’re… wearing a big sweater.” You look down, fidgeting with the loose fabric. “Yeah, um, just… comfortable.”

♡ He tilted his head, his brow furrowing slightly. “Comfortable? It’s… warm in here.” He gestured around the kitchen, which, granted, was warmer than usual thanks to the earlier active stove. “Right, well, extra… comfortable,” you inhale, feeling increasingly foolish.

♡ Beel watched you for a moment longer, then shrugged. He was more than happy to be returning to his wings. “If you’re comfortable.” He paused, then added, almost as an afterthought, “Are you… cold?” “No!” you said quickly, perhaps too quickly. “I’m… perfectly fine.”

♡ He seemed to sense something was off. He put down his wing, wiping his hands on a napkin with a slightly more deliberate motion than usual. He turned fully to face you, “Is something… on your mind?”

♡ You looked down, avoiding his gaze. “It’s nothing, Beel. Really.” He took a step closer, his presence filling the space, in a grounding manner. “You’re… hiding.” He stated it simply, matter-of-factly.

♡ His steady gaze made the denial die in your throat. Brewing tea and scooting his stool closer to your frame, he listened to all the worries that bloomed in the back of your head since you woke up that morning.

♡ A look of understanding took over in his eyes, slowly, like the sunrise. He looked down at your chest, then back up at your face, his gaze softening. He still didn’t quite get it, not in the way someone who’d experienced that kind of insecurity would, but he was trying. “People… don’t like… your body?” he asked, his voice incredulous. "But nothing is wrong with you."

♡ “Your body… is… good. It’s… soft. Warm. It… smells nice.” He leaned in slightly, "It keeps you warm...and And… I like… all of you," He lowered his head slightly, his forehead resting against yours. “Don’t… hide from me, alright?” he murmured. “I… like to see you. All of you.”

Number 3 is served!

[mugiwara-lucy]

Since these two stories are linked in some way shape and form I figured I’d make a post covering them equally.

It’s no coincidence that right as Drunky Brewster (my name for Pete Hegseth. 10 bucks if you all get the reference!! 🤣) was confined to be DOD, Shitbreak announced he would use military force to acquire Greenland.

Now while this is DEFINITELY bad, it’s not the end of the world yet. It’s bad because if you all don’t remember during the BLM riots of 2020, Shitbreak wanted to use the military on the rioters but Mark Miley told him no. However with Drunky Brewster as his little bitch, I have no doubt he would do something so atrocious. ESPECIALLY considering that he has praised world dictators and most damning of all, wouldn’t even answer if he would defy the constitution for Shitbreak.

The goodness comes in that neither Drunky Brewster nor Shitbreak seem to be aware of the fact that the REAL power of the military doesn’t come from the generals but from the NCOs (rank 5 and higher). Shitbreak can stick a dumb alcoholic waste of space like Drunky Brewster in charge of the DOD but the NCOs are normal people like you and I. They didn’t sign on to harass people like they do in Shitbreak’s favorite countries, I.e., North Korea, Russia, Hungary and China. Yes there are MAGAts in there but there are more reasonable people so expect when you hear Drunky Brewster order them to invade Mexico or Greenland or attack civilians in the name of a Christian Crusade (he has said that) let’s just say he’ll receive a rude awakening since those are unlawful orders.

Not to mention, this makes ALL of Americans look bad. (Well if it already didn’t with a rapist pedophile in office.) A rapist, sexual assaulting alcoholic with three children born to three mothers with White Supramacist tattoos who wants to “get rid of all wokeness and make the military lethal”. Yeah not a good look.

But where the good part comes in is that a LOT of military are disgusted at the thought of this assclown leading them and I see a LOT of them not wanting to invade allied countries since they are allies.

My point in this? Trump and his little MAGA fake Christians are a bunch of bitches that spend too much time in authoritarian countries that they don’t understand Americans much. I’ll end it with this:

What sparked the BLM riots back in 2020? Because not only were people irate at the state of the economy along with losing jobs and even loved ones to a disease that Shitbreak could have EASILY prevented but was willing to let Blue States go without, but they were angry at seeing people being killed by the police with no REAL repercussions.

Now let’s add on the fact that Shitbreak admitted he has no real plans to fix the economy, said he didn’t care about the economy, sided with Elon Musk who called his own supporters the R Slur and is siding with billionaires who aren’t even doing the fact that they plan on screwing over workers with AI workers in the future and as a result of Shitbreak revoking the EEO of 1964, SEVERAL people have either been laid off, their jobs in limbo or just flat out fired with several college graduates saying they graduated back in December and they had jobs lined up but now they’re gone along with them getting ready to gut the ACA (which magas realize is Obamacare), VA benefits, Medicare and Medicaid….

I’ll let you all speculate on the outcome of that.

[skeletonh0e]

Headcanons about us overstimulating the boys until they go dumb pls? 🥺👉👈

Oh ho! I like how you think, read more for NSFW, the reader is gender neutral and I kept their anatomy vague. There's talk of a "hole" but no explicit reference to any type of genitals.

Also so I don't have to repeat this for each boy, there is a safe word in place so they can always legit tap out if they need to. Remember to practice kinks like these safely

Overstimulation | 🔞 Minors DNI

Classic Sans :

Let it be known Sans is not someone that loses his composure very easily, he remains calm, collected and confident even under some extreme pressure

So it makes you rather proud when you have him whimpering, panting and moaning beneath you like a bitch in heat.

You loosely tied his wrists to the headboard of the bed, placing yourself happily in-between his legs to play with his cock at your pleasure. Sucking, stroking, licking, milking orgasm after orgasm out of him, strains of his cum littered on your face and chest

A borderline devilish smirk on your face as you do so, one that really completes the look you have going on right now

There is a part of him that's trying to act like you aren't getting to him as much as you actually are, but it's not really an act he can put up for long.

Especially as you make him cum again and he nearly cries from the oncoming wave of pleasure, hips bucking wildly as you pull your hot mouth away from his aching member

"holy fuckin' hell you're gonna be the death of me at this rate-"

You giggle as you watch the fresh load of cum spill out of him, idly collecting it with your hand as you go down to massage his seed around your hole, you don't need much preparation to be honest but it's a little show to put on for him

You can see his dick twitch pathetically despite another whimpering erupting from him

"You you wanna fuck me?"

"y-yeah..."

He's so cute like this you almost consider making him cum again and really beg before you let him inside you, but you have some mercy on him and position yourself properly. Feeling accomplished at the relieved groan he gives once he's finally penetrated you

You ride him for the next several rounds, while it gives you some much needed relief you're still hellbent on uttering pampering your boyfriend, making sure he finishes plenty. He's basically an exhausted bag of bones who might as well be brain dead by the end of it

You're there for after care, soothing him, cleaning him, cuddling him, always double checking to make sure you didn't actually go too far.

Which he always just chuckles at before teasing you, "really know how to make a skeletons day night huh?"

Underswap Sans :

He's been such a good boy lately and you can't help but want to utterly spoil him, he's normally so hellbent on pleasuring you after all. So why not make tonight all about him?

And with your special touch? The poor boy is utterly pubby in your hands.

You hold him tightly in your arms as he trembles and whimpers, roughly plunging the vibrating fleshlight up and down on his cock. Enjoying all the cries that escape from him as he cums again and again and again, the poor boy cannot fucking cope. Especially when you keep the toy tightly down then rock it back and forth on his pelvis

He moans your name like a fucking mantra, face completely flushed as he nuzzles deep into your chest basically seeing stars at this rate

He starts to beg and moan that it's too much, that he physically can't cum anymore, that he can't take it before you soothe him, tell him that he's doing great, how pretty and cute he looks all the while, that you love him, that he's such a good boy and you nicely ask if he can just cum one more time

And before you know he's already finished again, whimpering all the while

Eventually the toy is removed the thing oozing with his seed, you make eye contact with Sans as you take a deliberately slow lick from it

Just like that his previously completely used up dick is hard again.

"You want more?"

"f-fuck me properly...please....please....please-"

How can you deny such a sweet request?

He goes for several more rounds before he actually is finished though, once again surprising you with his stamina especially during aftercare where he seems mostly recovered.

He is now dead set on "repaying" you for this and you can't help but just give him a little kiss on the forehead

Underfell Sans :

This man? This man right here?

Does not bottom often and it's very rare he lets you have any form of control when you are on top, so when he does let you switch it up? You go all out, he's tied up good and you tease the hell out of him. Taking your time with his body, massaging every spot that earns a moan, biting certain tender areas and your movements being slow delicious torture on his cock

And he's an utter brat about it the entire time

Constantly squirming, cursing like a sailor and demanding that you fucking get on with it already only for you to giggle then proceed to just take your sweet time

You take pride and joy over slowly breaking that haughty attitude of his, first time he cums he just scoffs, the tenth time he cums he starts to get....desperate...

Definitely makes you work for it, but you know how to press every button by now. What really gets him going is when you slowly run his member across your soaking wet hole then move away once he attempts to jerk his hips toward it

Especially as you cum alongside him, pleasuring yourself while the other hand works his dick. Getting him so close to where he wants to be but not letting him.

"y-you evil f-fucking bitch! i-i swear when I get my fucking hands on you when i get my hands on you when i-"

"Boys that use that language don't get to be inside me, try again."

He cums three more times, before nearly sobbing then properly begging to have him fuck you and be your little boy toy for tonight

And you enjoy every second of the sight.

Rest assured, though, he WILL have his revenge. Maybe not tonight but soon.

Horrortale Sans :

You gotta be bold as fuck to want to overstimulate this man, let alone overstimulate him to the point his mind goes blank from pleasure

He's a bit of a wild card even outside of the bedroom when he's perfectly calm, having him experience multiple orgasms? You're gonna drive him beyond feral

He needs to not only be restrained but muzzled because he will start biting and biting hard once you two get deep into it

You ride him, roughly without any regard for pace, taking full advantage of the fact that his restraints don't allow him to properly match any of his thrusts, always pulling yourself off of him the moment he cums and all you hear are the lowest growls out of him

It's quite literally like watching a caged animal slowly go insane, he growls, he grunts, he desperately attempts to get out of his restraints and at one point you're worried he'll almost break them outright then he'll be set upon you

Which turns you on more than it should honestly, but until that actually happens you keep your focus on giving your unhinged lover more and more pleasure until he simply can't take it anymore.

He's not much for conversation during this, then again he wasn't exactly the biggest on pillow talk period but you make sure to praise and tease him all the while. It's not entirely clear if he hears everything you say between orgasms but there are certainly times where his body clearly reacts

And it reacts violently

You do finally let him finish inside, earning what can best be described as a primal yell from him that outright echoes off the walls

He passes out once he's reached his limit, you unrestrain him then work on caring for him, but about half way through cleaning him up his socket suddenly lights up and you're pinned down before you know it

You're in trouble <3

Underlust Sans :

You two always like to test limits, experiment, and generally see the best way to fuck each others brains out, this is definitely not the first time you've pulled this kind of stunt on him

And if there was ever one word to describe him, it was resilient

He has a lot of experience with this kind of thing and a lot of natural control over his body especially when it comes to sex so it's a definitely a case of go big or go home

He's not only tightly bound, but blindfolded with a vibrating cock ring on the highest setting with another toy being thrusting roughly in and out of his rectum, you deliberately controlling every movement of course

And he loves you taunt you about it, "this the best you can do baby? might just fall asleep over herrrrreeeee-!"

A particularly harsh thrust of the toy gets him to cum mid sentence tongue sticking out as she starts to drool rapidly

Rest assured you return his energy, asking if he's really got it altogether, teasing him by pointing out how violently his cock is throbbing is twitching and smugly asking if you're officially too much for him

It's fun banter, but it gets harder and harder for him to keep up especially as you get more aggressive in your approach in utterly dominating him.

And he won't lie it's hot as shit especially you seeming so eager to abuse him until he's basically your little fuck toy built for your entertainment, drooling like an animal and the perfect picture image of a needy little slut

Your little needy slut

By the time he uses the safe word and taps you, he immediately starts brain storming ideas for the next session you have together. Most definitely planning to return each moment you made him cum without mercy personally