#i will also probably never follow up with this one

[written-in-knife]

Hi! Could I please request something with Jade. Maybe angst/comfort and a bit suggestive. Imagine that the reader/yuu has found a way back home and starts kind of avoiding Jade due to not wanting to leave him but also not really feeling like fitting in in Twisted Wonderland. How would this play out, and how would Jade take action? Or if you've got your own plot or genre, that's fine too!

Thanks! Really liked your recent fic about Rook :)

Easy to Read

Jade Leech x gn!reader, established relationship

they/them pronouns, Jade calls the reader darling, angst/comfort, open ended

Word Count: 1882

The merform pulls are going SO GOOD Y'ALL. IM JUST SO PLEASED. IM NOT AT ALL UPSET OR TAKING IT OUT ON JADE IN THIS FIC. HA HA. HA HAHA. Anyways. I love getting a plot prompt, it's really hard to come up with ideas sometimes, so thank you! It's a little shorter than my other ones, but I do really like how it turned out, I hope y'all do too!

After so long, Crowley finally approached you with the news you'd been waiting for. He could send you home, as soon as you wanted. You heard the undertones in his voice that indicated he would prefer sooner rather than later, but with how many messes you'd cleaned up for him and the outrage it would inevitably spark from the many friends you'd made, he had no room to demand you leave that night.

You were pleased. You were supposed to be pleased. This is what you had wanted all along, right? To go home? This world was a place of magic so far removed from where you were born. You had no place in it, you didn't belong here.

These thoughts kept spiraling in your head from the second Crowley told you the news while you debated how you were supposed to tell your friends that you likely weren't ever going to see them again. How you were supposed to tell Jade... How were you supposed to tell Jade? He'd always been able to see straight through you, always able to tell when something was off and almost always able to fix it before you even said it out loud. How were you supposed to tell the one person who understood you so perfectly-- sometimes better than you knew yourself-- that you were leaving and probably never coming back? You weren't ready to face it yet. Despite the undertones, Crowley had given you time, and you were going to take as much of it as you could.

For the first few days, you tried to just play it cool and act normal, but Jade could tell something was off. He always could. You may as well have been an open book to him, all your problems laid out on the pages bolded and underlined. He knew there was something wrong, but for once, he couldn't figure out what it was. You could tell by the way he looked at you, the question behind his eyes as tried to look for the answers in yours. But you weren't ready yet. He watched as you started to shy away from him. It was the little things at first; avoiding eye contact when you were alone which lead to too much eye contact when you realized what you were doing, the way your fingers twitched when he reached for your hand, as if you wanted to pull it away before he could grab hold, the way you held onto him a little tighter and a little longer whenever he had his arms around you. He could see all the signs, plain as day, but the answer still eluded him. He could garner nothing from your friends, there were no hints at Ramshackle. He hated not knowing, but assumed you would tell him when you were ready. But after the first few days, you started to pull away more. You stopped going to the Mostro Lounge to see him during his shifts, you were going out of your way to avoid him after classes let out by following Ace and Deuce to Heartslabyul instead, you'd even called to cancel a date the two of you had set up a month prior. You were so easy to read, so why couldn't he figure this out?

As easy as it was for Jade to read you, it was even easier for Floyd to read Jade. Perks of being with someone since birth. He knew something was up between the two of you from the first stray eye twitch. So he watched. He watched Jade's reactions as you started to pull further and further away, watched his brother slowly unraveling with worry. Not enough for most people to notice, but Floyd saw. He saw the weird, lost look in his eyes before he could slap on that usual neutral smile and the disappointment on his face after another shift that you didn't show up in the middle of. Floyd wanted to believe you two would work it out on your own, but it was really getting on his nerves. So when Jade actually zoned out during a meeting about the lounge, Floyd finally lost it.

"Just go talk to Shrimpy already!" Floyd groaned loudly, draping himself dramatically over the couch. "You're killing the mood!"

"I apologize, I wasn't aware that my relationship troubles were interfering with your good time." Jade shot back with a sarcastic smile on his face. "I assure you, I will endeavor to think quieter thoughts as to not ruin your day."

"As much as I hate to admit it, Floyd is right." Azul sighed from his desk, Floyd giving him a shit eating grin that was promptly ignored. "You've been off your game for well over a week now, I think it's high time to cut the dramatics and go confront the problem."

Jade's tense smile thinned as his eye started twitching again. "And how do you propose I confront a problem that I have no knowledge of and haven't been informed about?"

"What, they haven't told you what's wrong?" Azul asked, quirking an eyebrow.

"They haven't told me that there is anything wrong."

"So then why are you just moping about it?" Floyd grumbled. "Go ask! I dunno if Shrimpy bites, but they ain't gonna bite harder than I am if you don't get your shit together!"

Jade scoffed, but bit his tongue. He knew he was being silly about it, just wishing that you would come forward with your worries on your own when it was becoming more and more clear that you had no intention of doing so. Not without a nudge. There was also a small part of him that worried that you'd disagreed with something he'd done and were afraid to talk to him about it. Afraid of him. He usually delighted in people having a healthy fear of him, but you? The idea that you could be afraid of him hurt more than he cared to admit. Floyd was right, he had to go talk to you. He didn't want to corner you, but there seemed to be no other way to be alone with you anymore.

He waited another day to put his plan into action. It was hardly a plan, to be perfectly honest. Jade had watched you follow Ace and Deuce to Heartslabyul after class again, and went to Ramshackle to wait for you to come back. He didn't know what else to do. Hours ticked by, a pot of tea long cold and he could swear he had dug grooves into the floor from all the pacing he'd done by the time you returned home. He stopped in front of the fireplace as he heard the door open, followed by a loud and long sigh before you headed towards the lounge. You froze when you turned the corner and saw him standing there, his ever present smile still on his face but it looked forced. You shuffled in place for a moment before entering the lounge to drop your bag on the couch, not looking at him.

"Hey Jade." You said, clearing your throat to try to get rid of the strain behind your voice. "What's going on?"

"I could ask you the same." He'd been debating how to approach the topic while he was waiting for you, not sure if it was better to be blunt or to ease into it. The heat of the moment ultimately made the decision for him.

"What do you mean...?"

"We don't need to play this game, darling, I've barely seen you in a week."

"I've been busy..." It was a weak argument on your part, and you knew it. You couldn't look up at him, eyes glued to the floorboards as you lied through your teeth. You weren't ready yet.

"You've been busy before, this is not that." He took a couple tentative steps towards you, like he was trying not to scare you off. "Please, talk to me. I only wish to help."

You weren't ready yet. "I don't think you can..."

"I'd like to try."

The abnormally soft tone to his voice is what finally pushed you over the edge. Tears blurred your vision before you could stop them, a massive lump in your throat cutting off any defense you could try to form in a pitiful whimper as you did your best to just not start sobbing. Jade was in front of you in two steps, gathering you up tenderly in his arms as you desperately tried to wipe away the tears before your face could become overrun. You weren't ready yet, but you were out of time. Crowley had pulled you aside a few times already asking for your decision, getting more and more impatient with each visit.

"Crowley found a way for me to go h-home." You managed to choke out around the sobs in your throat. You felt Jade tense up for a moment before some invisible tension was lifted off of him, making him relax against you with a light chuckle.

"Oh, darling, is that all?"

You paused for a second at the audacity of the question, as if all your worries meant nothing. "What do you mean, is that all?!" You bit out, smacking his chest and taking a step back. "I'm going home! I'll never... I'll never get to see you again..."

He frowned, blinking in confusion for a second before reaching out and wiping a stream of tears off your face. "You've... already decided then?"

"What?"

"You said Crowley found you a way home, not that he was forcing you to take it," he explained, "meaning you have a choice to stay or go."

"I..." You hesitated with a sniffle. He was right, you did have a choice, but... "I don't belong here, Jade. I was never supposed to be here."

"But you are." He cut in quickly before you could go on, cupping your cheeks in his hands. "You are here, whether you were "supposed" to be or not." He pulled you back in against his chest, one hand carding through your hair and the other tight against your back. "I often feel I don't belong on land, but I am here. I have found purpose on land, I've found hobbies and interests and love on land, even feeling that I don't belong." The determination in his voice made you cry a little harder. "Just because I am out of place does not mean I don't want to be here... Do you want to be here?"

You nodded into his chest, snaking your arms around his waist. "I just don't know if I should be." You admitted, no louder than a whisper.

"That is something only you can decide." He muttered into your hair before pressing his lips to the top of your head. "Whatever you decide, I will respect it... but if I may be a bit selfish?" You pulled back just enough to look him in the eyes as he gave you a sad but hopeful smile, pressing one hand to your cheek again. "I would prefer it if you stayed."

You didn't have to say it out loud, he could see the answer behind your eyes. You were always so easy to read.

I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION TO USE MY WORKS TO TRAIN AI

MASTERLIST

[dragonsondragons]

Prologue/Hard To Resist

Part of the You Should Probably Leave series

Description: In which Jack’s therapist challenges him to enjoy the daytime and he admits he has a work crush.

Warnings: yearning!jack, medical social worker!reader, reader is Jack’s work crush, slow burn, tons of therapy, working through trauma, Jack on his #healingjourney, angst, unspecified age gap. 

Word Count: 2.1k

Authors Note: Enjoy the first little snippet of this story! This part is solely Abbot's POV during a therapy session, but next part we will see him interacting with reader and the rest of the Pitt crew. Yay! Let the yearning begin, hope you enjoy :) This series is based on the song You Should Probably Leave by Chris Stapleton, I would highly recommend giving it a listen before/while reading.

(I thought this gif from Chicago PD was so Jack at his therapists office lol)

[Masterlist]

Jack’s therapist had recommended that he try to get more comfortable in the daytime. His relative ease in the darkness of the night was a useful coping mechanism for a time, she explained to him one session, but he didn't have to be in fight mode anymore. She was encouraging him to seek out safety and connection in the daytime so that his past had less control over his present. 

Jack had scoffed when she said that. Because what else does his past do than rear its ugly head every moment of every day? And did he even want to forget it? All of those soldiers he couldn’t save? They deserved to be remembered. 

“This isn’t about forgetting them,” she reminded him, “but rather processing your past experiences so that they are less distressing in the present. Putting yourself outside of your comfort zone of the night could be empowering. It could give you enough space to hold those people with you and move forward living as full of a life as you can. In their honor.”

“In their honor,” Jack echoed, mulling it over. He could do that. He wanted to do that. Move forward. That’s why he was doing all this work in therapy. But one thing he had come to find out, is that actually changing is a lot harder than knowing you want to. 

“Any ideas on what could be your first attempt at enjoying the daytime? Maybe some sort of social interaction,” she led him with her question. Her and Jack had talked about the power of improving social bonds before, how they can create community and give someone a deeper experience of life. Jack promised to give it a try but admittedly doesn't follow through much on that one. Jack didn’t really want a deeper experience of life if that meant opening yourself up to feeling all the pain that comes along with it more deeply, too.

“I don’t know, doc. I don't have many friends.” 

“Outside of work, you mean?” she said, surprised at his statement. He spoke of his coworkers all the time, they seemed plenty friendly.

“Well…there’s Robby. We hang out outside of work.” By that, he means that they push each other around at beer league hockey when their work schedules allow it and then grab a beer after. Other than that, their main points of interaction are admittedly at work, often on the roof of PTMC. 

“Yes, there’s Robby. But that's not exactly out of your comfort zone. That's pretty firmly within it from what I know.” Jack was silent, not keeping eye contact like he usually does. She could see there was something he wasn’t letting on. She never forced Jack to talk about anything he wasn’t ready to. That's something he appreciated about his therapist. But she also knew when she could push him a little bit. “Anyone else, then?” He’s silent again. She let it simmer, waiting for him to fill the gaps.

“There’s someone I work with,” Jack blurts out, his ears turning red. His knee was bouncing up and down. 

Your face flashed in his mind and he wrung his hands together. Jack was usually good at composure, but he found himself starting to crumble at the mere thought of you.

“You seem a little nervous. Care to tell me more about this someone?”

“Uh, well…yeah, she makes me a little nervous sometimes. But mostly she calms me down.” He wasn’t letting on much.

“Hmm, what about her calms you down?” his therapist hummed, encouraging him to continue.

“She's a social worker in the ED. Smart, caring, great at what she does,” he rambles. “We eat lunch together sometimes. If the timing works out on shift. When I'm having a shitty time at work… sometimes she makes me feel better. Just her being there.” He thinks about your knee brushing against his under the table after he made you laugh. Some stupid story about a guy who broke his femur literally slipping on a banana peel.

“So what about her makes you nervous then, if she makes you feel better?” 

“I mean– she's beautiful, that's mostly what makes me nervous.”

I can’t believe I just said all that, he facepalms internally. With all the respressing Jack does, sometimes a feeling will just catch up to him out of nowhere. There are a lot of things he used to distract himself throughout the day. From working in the ED or drowning out the silence at home with the police scanner, to working out until his whole body ached and volunteering at the VA. But there was never enough to fully distract him, eventually whatever it was he was trying to prevent floats to the surface.

After losing his wife years ago, after losing his brothers in a desert overseas, Jack had played it pretty close to the chest with his feelings. If he doesn't show his emotions, even to himself, then he could try to pretend they don’t exist. That the pain doesn’t exist. 

But that's why he’s in therapy, because the pain still very much exists. And one day he finally realized he couldn’t go on any longer without doing something about it. That was more than a year ago now. 

For this to work, you have to be honest with me, he remembers his therapist saying in their first session. But most importantly you have to be honest with yourself.  

If he’s being real honest with himself, he likes you. He had barely even admitted it to himself before today, but god he likes you. And with each day you were getting harder and harder for him to resist. 

Now, he had practically announced the crush to his therapist. Admitting out loud that he has some type of feelings for you made him more nervous than anything else. He couldn’t deny it now. Time to be honest.

“Maybe you should invite her to do something with you,” she proposes with a knowing look. 

“I don't know if that would be a good idea,” Jack says earnestly. Maybe he had admitted the crush but that doesn't mean he was ready to do something about it. 

“Why’s that?”

“Because she probably doesn't want anything to do with this,” he gestures around himself vigorously, slightly worked up. “I’m a little fucked up, and scary, I guess… I’ve heard people say.” And old, he thinks to himself, too old for her at least.

“Did she tell you she wants nothing to do with you?”

“No.”

“Then you don't know that. You said you eat lunch together. If she chooses to spend her valuable break time with you she likely enjoys being around you.” His face is full of apprehension. “You’re allowed to let yourself have good things, Jack.”

“There’s this part of me that wants to believe that,” he admits quietly. He’s opened this door now and there’s no closing it. He can’t help being drawn to you anymore. “But there's also a louder part of me screaming run.” He leans forward and rests his elbows on his knees, head hanging and taking a deep sigh.

“Remember that the brain’s automatic response is not always logical. Sometimes the loudest voice is actually the most illogical. And if you listen to it, it can cause you to spiral.”

“I've been thinking about that one, doc. I’ve been trying. To stop the spiral.” That’s one of the biggest challenges for him. To not let flashes of dark moments spiral into a category five hurricane. To take back his agency over his thoughts.  

“Good. How is it going?” He blows out a long breath, leaning back into the chair and crossing his arms in front of his chest. “Not so great. For a long time, my automatic thoughts,” he puts up air quotes around the phrase, “My instincts, they saved my life. Saved other guys lives in the med tent. So it's kinda hard to rewrite that pathway.” A lot of the time, he couldn't help but feel like ordinary decisions still meant life or death. So much anxiety had built up inside him that it felt like if he chose the wrong thing at the grocery store a bomb would explode.

“You’re not at war anymore though, Jack. Letting yourself enjoy this woman’s presence in your life won’t get anyone killed.” 

“Yeah.” Again, he’s quiet, remembering. 

“Part of processing is not letting past trauma control the now. Remember, things can be different this time. You’re encountering a whole different set of challenges in the present that don’t always require the tools of the past.”

“My shrink, always so wise,” Jack jokes.

“I asked you not to call me that,” she scolds him.

“Sorry, got a lot I'm working on at the moment.”

This gets his therapist to crack a smile, glancing down at her watch. “Time to wrap up. Keep working at that– making the choice to challenge your automatic thoughts. What's important is that you try to recognize them as they pop up and inquire as to why you may think that it’s true. It takes time and repetition, but you’ll get there. You’re doing well, really.” 

“Thanks, doc.”

“And don't forget your homework. To do something out during the daytime. Not errands or the gym, but something you’ll have fun doing.”  Jack rolls his eyes. She must really think I'm a snooze fest, he thinks.

“I know you can have fun, Jack. You’re human, just like the rest of us.” Sometimes he felt like a cyborg forged for war that would never be wired for civilian life ever again. But that’s all he was now, a civilian. A doctor. Not a cyborg, just a man. Through the sludge of his past– all that he’s seen and felt– what he has to do now is figure out how to live again. Too many years have passed him by in a haze.

“Whatever you say doc.” He does a loose salute with his fingers as he gets up from his chair to exit her office. “See ya next week.”

“See you then,” she responds, scribbling down notes from the session as he steps out the door.

“Oh!” she yells after him. “And I’ll give you extra credit if the fun involves this woman from work.” 

Jack only scoffed in response, then blushed in the elevator all the way back down to the lobby.  

————

Driving from his therapist’s office to the pit, he brainstormed what he could do for his “daylight assignment”. Just the thought of it was setting him on edge. All of the people and noises and atrocities that happen while everyone is awake. He’d do whatever this is in the day time, sure. But firmly in the afternoon so that the comfort of night would come soon enough and greet him, he decided. 

He wants it at his own house too, in his own space, to help dull the anxiety inside him. That would have to mean inviting people over. At least it would be people he chooses to invite, another element he could control. Robby, Dana, Shen, Ellis— they knew Jack, didn't expect too much from him. 

Then there was you. You who had boundless empathy for any patient that walked in the door and extensive knowledge of any resources that could help them. He admired your commitment to the patients and their families, in supporting people outside of just their medical needs. And of course, you radiate beauty like a goddamn emergency department Snow White. 

Your presence simply made Jack feel at ease, and in a place like the Pitt that was a very welcome feeling. But as much as he craved it, Jack was not used to feeling at ease. Eventually, his mind would rebel and tell him to retreat; that the peace was too good to be true. He couldn’t let himself have this. It was too risky. He had to resist.

Automatic thought! He warned himself. Ugh. Jack was tired. Tired of having to be so vigilant even inside his own head. Tired of whatever devil was on his shoulder always whispering in his ear. No, not whispering. Yelling. His therapist was right, the thoughts were loud. What had she said? Inquire why you think these thoughts may be true, he recalls. 

Why does he think he has to resist? Because everything good he’s ever had falls apart. Usually he was the one who ripped it apart. Never on purpose, just through being who he was, who life and war had made him.

Things could be different this time, Jack reminds himself, drumming his thumbs over the steering wheel. He sighs deeply, groans.

As much as he was spooked by the revelation that he couldn't contain his desire for you so well anymore, he was also enflamed by it. He wanted an angel on his shoulder. He wanted you. 

The voice inside of him saying that wasn’t harshly yelling, there were no flashing lights or sirens. It was steady, calm, all encompassing. And pure warmth. Maybe that’s how he can tell it's the right voice to listen to. 

Fuck it. He decided. I’m gonna throw a party and she’s gonna be the goddamn guest of honor. 

[clairewritesfanfics]

Hi main system 👋. I wanted to ask if you could to invincible variants reaction to reader having a crazy stalker that's just started following her to their home (the stalker just first been writing scary letters to her ) . Stalker ain't even gonna make it an hour but I'd like to see what they're do to the stalker .

Trigger Warnings: violence, gore

It started with notes. Red ink on white sheets, likely torn notebook pages, folded in half and left on the table you considered your spot at the coffee shop. It was just a mild crush. Probably a fellow cafe patron who thought you were cute.

They were relatively harmless, even a tad bit flattering, if you were being honest. 

“You look pretty today.”

“Your blouse brings out your eyes.”

“We ordered the same thing today :)”

Then they got longer. Weirder. Your secret admirer upgraded from scratch paper to scented letters.

“You smell nice. Did you change your perfume? Maybe your shampoo? You seem like a put together girl, I’m sure you use the good, fancy stuff. It would be nice if you told me what products you used. Then it would be like we’re together, always.”

“I noticed you came here with some girl friends. They are lovely, but no one can compare to your beauty. You will always be the most gorgeous thing in my eyes. Your face, your hair, your curves. I love every part of you. I promise never to look at anyone else but you.”

Then they outright terrified you.

“Dear angel of the coffee shop,

Who was that man that came with you last Sunday? 

You two sat so close to each other I felt jealous just watching.

Is that your type of man? 

I didn’t think you would be so shallow. Is it because he’s six feet? Is your gender really that obsessed with height? 

Maybe it’s because he’s built like an athlete? You know he will leave you when someone prettier and younger comes along.

I will never treat you like that. I will love you even if someone better wants me.

I also noticed that you haven’t been coming to the cafe as frequently as before. You used to come here every Monday through Wednesday and sometimes during Saturday. I know it can’t be because you’re avoiding me. That’s impossible, because I already told you how much you mean to me. You would be one giant BITCH if you were avoiding me.

I stayed away because I was too shy, but maybe it’s time for us to officially meet.

If you refuse to come to me then I will have to come to you.”

He would resist the instinct to dispatch the man immediately, because he could see you shaking from the corner of his eyes. So he knocks the stalker unconscious first and has his people imprison him, with strict orders to keep him alive and isolated. His priority is you. He apologizes over and over and holds you in his arms until you fall asleep from crying. Mark is struck by guilt all at once. He should’ve taken those “love letters” seriously. But he was too arrogant, believed that when your admirer saw you with him just once then he would back off. 

After tucking you in and kissing your forehead he finally confronts the one responsible for all your tears. The man is too weak and too pathetic to serve as breeding stock for the Empire, and death would be too merciful. So Mark chooses the only logical option. He gauges the eyes that dare gaze upon you, tears off the hands that tried to touch you, shatters the legs that ran after you. Mark breaks the stalker methodically, until he begs to be killed.

flaxan, target, VILTRUMITE

Mark is furious. Not at you, never at you. But at this insect that threatened your safety. He hated how upset you were about the letters. He saw enough of human society to know that the madness was not going to stop at letters. He told you as such, so he had you go to the police, and that was why he accompanied you every time you left the house. But you were too selfless for your own good; you didn’t want to wake him up from his nap so you decided to go buy ice cream alone. He woke up groggy, but heard your screaming from the front door. He moved instantly and now, he held your stalker by the throat.

Voice taut but not raised, he tells you to get inside. You’re too afraid to protest so you run back into the house. 

When he hears the front door close with a click, he shoots up into the sky, the attacker still in his grasp. This Mark isn’t especially bloodthirsty. He sees torture as a tool for interrogation, but unnecessary otherwise. Face devoid of emotion, he clenches his fist and the man in his hand goes limp instantly. He then throws the corpse in the nearest volcano before flying back to you.

He finds you sobbing in the bed and the ice melts off his body. He joins you under the covers and promises that no one will bother you again.

FULL MASK, maskless, OMNI-MARK, prisoner 

His usual swagger is gone. There is no trace of a smile to be found on his face when he stands between your trembling form and the bastard that broke into your house. Mark glares at him. Then you tug his shirt and he takes a deep breath and forces himself to smile as he talks to you, “Go lock yourself in our room, I’ll handle this.”

But you shake your head against his back. Your muffled voice tells him you don’t want to be alone.

He sighs, but he’s not annoyed. He reaches behind him and gives your thigh a squeeze. “Okay. When I give the signal, cover your ears and don’t look.”

He turns his attention back at your stalker, who is glaring back at him, spouting crap about you belonging to him and that Mark is a fuckboy who doesn’t deserve you. That hits a nerve in your husband and he lifts his knee.

“Now, angel.”

With a single strike, the man’s brain and blood splatter on the walls and the floor.

When Mark realizes what he has done he swears under his breath and gently turns around so he could lift you up and carry you to the living room. “I should’ve done it more cleanly,” he says, wiping your tears away, “I’m sorry, I promise I’ll clean it up.”

You let out a laugh and bury your nose in his chest. Protective arms cover your shoulders as Mark kisses the top of your head. He holds you like he’s afraid that you would disappear. He hates to say it but that asshole was right, you deserve everything. He should’ve been better. Should’ve done more.

head cap, mohawk, SHIESTY

Unlike the aforementioned variants, he didn’t wait for the harassment to escalate. When he identified the man who had been sending you those sickening notes, Mark wasted no time in grabbing him when no one was looking. Brought the sicko to an abandoned cabin deep, deep, deep in the woods somewhere on the other side of the world. Mark doesn’t like being away from you for too long, so he tries to work fast. 

Mark tries to act cool when he plays with his newest victim. But the fucker keeps calling you pet names and slurs, even sharing his deepest fantasies about you. So Mark rips out his tongue, then his arms and legs, and watches him bleed, all while sharing precious memories you two made together. 

sinister, no goggles

image lifted from: https://gamerant.com/invincible-all-alternate-dimension-invincibles-fates/

MASTERLIST | request rules | ask box

[solarmorrigan]

In honor of the approaching summer, have this Incredibly Silly A Goofy Movie AU that I tormented my poor friend in the chat with. It's been sitting in my drafts for months

-

So, like. Eddie fails senior year. And is dealing drugs, probably, because they need the money, but not a lot of people want to hire him. The school administration can't prove that he's dealing, but they do know he's failing, and the principal still calls Wayne all "Your son nephew is a delinquent and is going to end up in jail just like his dad" and Wayne's like. Well, we can't have that. And he's got a lot of time saved up at the plant, he's been there for years, he's a loyal employee, so he decides that they can take the hit and he'll take some time off and HE AND EDDIE ARE GOING FISHING

And Eddie's like, great, that's great, glad you want to bond, BUT. No can do. Because (and this part he does not tell Wayne), he finally got Steve to agree to go on a date with him (and by "finally got him to agree" I mean "he finally fucking asked," because it's not like Steve would've said no - at least not since going from being kind of a popular idiot to a much more down-to-earth guy in the last year or so). And he can't miss that. But Wayne is adamant. So Eddie's finally like, I promised my friend Steve that I'd spend time with him this summer. And Wayne's like, he can spend time with his family this summer. And Eddie tells him, no, actually, he can't, because his parents are dicks and are going to be gone all summer. And he'll be alone 🥺 ALL ALONE, WAYNE. THE WHOLE SUMMER

And, like, Wayne's not thrilled, but this is one of those soft, caring little pieces of Eddie he's been worried about losing so he's like, "Okay, invite your friend Steve along, then." And Eddie's brain does the record scratch thing, because this was not what he was angling for. He would not be OPPOSED to going on a road trip with Steve, but not one chaperoned by his uncle?? But now he's penned in. He can't back out or Wayne will suspect something is up. So he goes and talks to Steve, saying that Wayne sprung this trip on him, he doesn't want to miss their date, but Wayne said Steve could come along, yaaay...? Except he assumes a (formerly) Cool, (currently) Rich guy like Steve won't want to go on just a fishing trip, so he spins up some story about how they're actually going to some big concert (which actually happens to be taking place very near to their actual fishing destination). Eddie knows this is An Incredibly Stupid Idea, but he thinks maybe he can swing it. Also the words kinda came out before he could really think about them

Of course, he didn't need to lie to Steve because a) Steve would probably follow him anywhere anyway at this point, and b) the boy would be fucking thrilled to go on a family bonding road trip. He would eat that shit up. He's never been fishing before. It sounds kind of terrible, but in a good way

So now Eddie's in a pickle, but it all works out. Bonding shenanigans and brief romantic moments that are accidentally crashed by Wayne and some actual fishing and they also get to see the concert and they all end up closer for the trip etc. etc.

[marvelwitchergilmore]

A Cup of Coffee

Summary: Bucky Barnes x fe!Reader -> You and Bucky make a promise to share a cup of coffee when he gets back from war. But sometimes a promise has to be broken.

Disclaimer: Fluff, hurt/comfort vibes, little angst. Asgardian!reader. 40s!Bucky/Winter Soldier. Kinda ignores the full MCU timeline but follows it enough to make sense...I hope. Mentions of death and violence (but not too much). Not Proof Read.

“Just a cup of coffee, please.” A voice spoke beside you before stradling the stool, two seats down from you. “Thank you.”

You’d been seeing them all day. Young men fighting for an old man’s cause across the water. A lot of them wouldn’t return. You knew that. You also knew the ones that would, would definitely have a few stories to tell. Most would probably take them to the grave. 

You’d seen plenty of men die in war. Some were stories. Most were beside you. 

“When do you leave?”

“Sorry?” The man turned and looked at you eventually. You hadn’t looked at him when you spoke. Your eyes remained fixed on the cup of coffee in front of you. 

You looked at him, eventually. A soft look in your eyes. “I asked, when do you leave?”

“Oh,” he seemed a little embarrassed. He should have known what you’d asked him. “A few hours. Got my orders this morning.”

As the waitress came back with his coffee, he went to pay. But you beat him to it. It’s the least you could do for him. 

“No, I’ve got it.”

He seemed a little surprised but thankful all the same. “I feel like I need to pay you back somehow.”

You shook your head with a light smile. “No need.”

He nodded, looking at his coffee cup before looking back at you. “I’m Bucky, by the way.”

You smiled, “Y/n.”

“That’s a beautiful name.”

You smiled. “Thank you.”

He motioned to the seat beside you. “Mind if I sit with you?”

“No. But I would have figured you’d be waiting on someone special.”

He chuckled a little, but shook his head. “No. Not tonight.”

Bucky moved to sit beside you and you turned your stool to face him a little better. It was up close you realised his eyes were blue. The corner of his mouth raised slightly as he talked, his voice deep. There was still a youthful and hopeful glint in his eyes. 

You hoped he held onto that. 

The conversation between yourself and the soldier lasted two hours or more. Eventually, you walked with him to his train station. Wives were kissing their husbands goodbye, sisters were hugging their brothers, kids were kissing their fathers and uncles goodbye, and mothers were drying their tears from the thoughts that they’d never see their sons again. 

“You really should have let me walk you home,” Bucky told you. 

You smiled and looked away, shaking your head. “No. It’s better this way.”

“If you say so.”

You nodded and looked back up at him in time to see his expression change. The smile faltered for a moment as his thoughts took over. 

“You asked me before if I was meant to be meeting someone special tonight.”

You nodded, stepping a little closer. “I did.”

The smile returned on his face as you felt his hand take yours. He raised it between you both. “I think you were meant to be that someone special.” 

You smiled, closing your eyes for a moment as he kissed your knuckles before kissing your palm. Soon, you felt the scratchy green material of his lapel under your palm, his kiss searing into your skin. You made a decision. 

Pulling him in by his lapels, you leaned up and kissed him. 

It was like electricity inside you before a calming wave of serenity took you over as he held you closer to him. All the other passengers on the train melted away; their voices became nothing but white noise behind you both. 

Laying a hand over his heart, you heard the final whistle being called. 

“Good luck, soldier.”

“Will you be here when I get back?”

You’d been moving from place to place on earth for the last five years. You never stayed in one place longer than a few months. You also never returned. 

But that was the first time you’d broken your promise to yourself. 

“When you get back, I’ll meet you at the cafe. You buy the coffee.”

Bucky chuckled. “Deal.”

He kissed you once more before one of the wardens walked by and tapped him on the back. “Better get on the train, son. Before it leaves without you.”

Bucky nodded, holding onto your hand and kissing your knuckles as you closed the door to the carriage with him. 

“Wait, I-I need your address. To write to you.”

The train was starting to move. You didn’t want anyone to have your address, just in case. 

“Write to the cafe!” You called over the sound of the horn. “I’ll write you back, I promise!” 

The train was moving faster than people on the platform could keep up with and eventually you had to let go of his hand. 

From the distance until the train disappeared, Bucky continued to wave goodbye to you. 

A letter was waiting for you at the cafe two weeks later. You and Bucky wrote to each other for almost a year. Little did you know, those would be the only thing you’d have left from him. 

A little over a year later, you found a thick letter waiting for you at the cafe. The waitress, Dottie, handed it over to you with a saddened look in her eye. 

“The mailman dropped this by, this morning. I’m so sorry, honey.”

You sat down with a weight on your chest as you opened it. A sob caught in your throat as four letters fell out. Three of them you recognised immediately. Bucky’s handwriting. But the fourth…

In the cafe, sat in the same seat you’d first met Bucky on, you read from Captain America’s own handwriting. What had happened on the train, what had happened to Bucky, how he’d talked about you enough to let Steve know the final letters and pictures should be sent to you. He wrote about how sorry he was. A real funeral couldn’t be held until the war was over.

Without a body, it was simply about raising a toast for another young life given to a cause. 

“Can I get you anything, honey?”

You wiped away your tears, quickly. “Yeah, um, can…can I get a cup of coffee. Please?”

Dottie nodded with a sad smile. “Of course, honey.”

So. 

Sitting alone in the cafe you were meant to see him again, you raised a cup. 

“I love you, soldier.”

When you finished, you thanked Dottie for everything and left her a large tip. That evening, you moved away and tried to move on. 

It proved more difficult than you expected. 

You’d lived thousands of years, seen thousands of people die, seen thousands of people fall in love. And yet, Bucky was the one person out of it all that never seemed to leave you. 

After twenty or more years, you stopped running. Asguardian soldiers stopped hunting you, Loki came to find you and you both hashed out your grievances. 

But despite all of that, you ended up settling back in Brooklyn. You watched as people went to and from work, forgetting the histories you’d lived through; creating futures they dreamed of. 

You heard of Peggy starting up Shield. And one afternoon you strolled past the memorial set up in the soldiers’ memories. 

And the first name you spotted was Bucky’s. 

He’d been lost years before Shield, but Peggy still continued to honor Bucky alongside the rest. You kept your eye on his fellow Howling Commandos. Watched as they had kids, who eventually had kids of their own. 

You watched them grow a family part of you still dreamed about with Bucky. 

As the years passed by, you settled into ‘normal’ life. You dated every now and again, but none of them ever lasted. None of them contained that spark you had with Bucky. You didn’t mean to compare them, but what had happened in the 40s…

That was the kind of love that lasted a lifetime. The kind grandkids would look up to and say, “That’s the love I want out of life.”

Yet, as the years rolled by, things started to happen that even you had never seen before. Men came back from the dead. Men you had known. 

First it was Steve. It was all over the news. A fallen soldier pulled out of the ice. A man out of his time. 

You could still remember the thundering in your heart as you watched him run through Times Square. 

He was alive?

He was alive.

“Oh, god.” You held a hand over your heart. 

Three weeks later, all hell broke loose. Loki, a man you’d once considered a brother, an enemy, and then a friend. He decided to have a moment in the spotlight for all the world to see. 

You had ran round New York, helping those you could. You tried to find him. You might not have seen each other in five decades, but you couldn’t just let him tear the world apart. 

But The Avengers beat you to it. From there, Odin and Thor would handle the rest. 

You thought about going back, but you never did. Something in you told you to stay for the sake of Steve. He didn’t know you existed. To him, you’d been long gone since the 40s. Probably dead. 

If he only knew. 

However, everything changed when he was made an enemy of the State and footage from a fight on the bridge made its way to social media. You watched as a masked man with a metal arm jumped onto a car and swaggered his way over, changing the clip in his gun. 

CCTV footage that was shown on the six o’clock news revealed a fight between the ghost dubbed The Winter Soldier and Steve. 

From there, your research began.

Decrypting Hydra files, travelling to countries you hadn’t seen since England’s Tudor era, facing climates some people would never know. But it was just before a bomb had been detonated outside the UN building that you came to discover the first successful subject of the Winter Soldier programme. 

James Buchanan Barnes. 

Bucky. 

You’d eventually found yourself in Serbia, but you were far too late. All that was left were scratches on walls in place of a fight. And, considering Steve was on the run, it didn’t take a genius to work out who it had been between. 

You searched for two years. 

You had tried to contact Thor and Loki. Maybe they could help. But they were no use. Off world and fighting someone else, probably. 

After a year and half in Wakanda, Bucky was finally free of the Winter Soldier’s control. And, ultimately, joined Steve to help weed out the final members of Hydra and The Red Room. 

But the longer he spent with his fellow man out of time, he started to feel like he was being watched. Not by the Wakandans. Not even by his team. But by…a ghost. 

He’d look across the street and see someone. But it was only a flash in his memory. Someone who’d been in his dreams long before the nightmares of Hydra took his mind over. 

But it wasn’t. 

Because a moment later, they were gone. A shadow in the dark. A sunray behind a tree branch. 

It took another year, but Steve and his team somehow received a full padron. Probably had something to do with the whole world going to shit. But even as he lived a semi-normal life outside of the Tower and training facility, the memory seemed to constantly follow him. 

Buses through the city, subway staircases, busy street-corner food trucks, green parks with enough space for kids and cyclists. 

Then one day he found it wasn’t a memory at all, but rather a person. 

The part of his mind that longed for his past was playing tricks on him. So, he made a decision. 

And it was in a cold warehouse with a dusty concrete floor and broken ceiling lights, Bucky came face to face with his ghost. 

You breathed heavily and smiled a little as his blue eyes landed on your gaze. “Hey, Soldier.”

Bucky couldn’t breathe. His hand still held onto your arm as you lay on the floor below him. “You…you…you’re not…this isn’t real.”

“I can explain.”

He was shocked, which you expected. 

“Mind helping a girl up?”

Bucky, for a moment, did so. But then stopped, pinning you back onto the dusty floor. “How do I know this is even…you? Who are you?”

You understood completely. “The day we met, it was in a cafe. I bought you a cup of coffee and our waitress was called Dottie. You asked for my address and I told you to write to the cafe, instead.”

He believed you. You could see it in his eyes. You could also see that he didn’t believe it could be possible. 

“I know I made you promise to buy me a cup of coffee the next time we saw each other, but I think I should buy this one.”

It took a little more convincing but eventually Bucky helped you up from the ground and walked with you to a cafe. 

“Is this?”

You smiled and unlocked the door. “Yeah.”

You locked the door behind you once more and lowered the shutters a little more. Walking around the cafe bench, you started up the percolator. Turning around, you saw Bucky look around the place. Photos scattered the walls. Some that were still on the walls when he was young. But the more he looked, the more he noticed. 

Old signs, posters and pictures. But the ones that stood out to him the most were the ones he was in. One from a pub table in London. Him, Steve, Peggy, and the Howling Commandos. A few more were filled with the same people. Others had soldiers Bucky had met or seen when he was still in the army. A few love letters had been framed and hung up, too. 

“Couples.” Bucky looked at you as you spoke. “Turns out this place can bring people together in unexpected ways.” 

He kept looking across the walls. That was when he saw an old receipt, the paper aged with time. 

The receipt from the night he met you. Dottie’s name was scribbled across the top, the bill was at the bottom. 

“Here,” you said as you began pouring the hot coffee. “Get it while it’s hot.”

Bucky took his old seat across from you, holding the mug in his two hands. 

“Thanks.”

You smiled, “You’re welcome.”

“So,” Bucky took a sip of the hot drink. “When did you buy this place?”

“Mid 90s, I think. It was a cafe for a long time. Then a sandwich shop, then a laundry place. Eventually, it went on the market and…I took it on. Restored it back to what I remembered it to be. 

Bucky nodded, impressed. But one question remained on his mind. And just like that night on the station floor, you watched as Bucky’s smile fell from his face. But this time, it didn’t return. Memories haunted his mind, part of him still not believing it to be true. 

For all he knew, he was about to wake up. 

“How are you here?”

You took your time explaining your past. How you were not from the world he knew…once knew. You were from a completely different one. 

Asgard.

A few earth years before Bucky met you, you’d upset a lot of people. Specifically one of the princes. Eventually, you were pardoned when they realised you’d only meant kindness when you gave your opinion in the court that day. 

You’d voted against Loki. 

He was one of your closest friends, but you knew he wasn’t ready. Considering he was Odin’s son, most people voted for him. 

As his closest friend, you’d not only betrayed him but also the throne he sat on. 

You nearly got caught a few times, but managed to evade them. But despite all being forgiven, you’d decided to come back to the one place that had felt like home since you’d left Asgard. 

“And you’ve been following me ever since?” 

You nodded. 

“So…in London? And Edinburgh?”

You nodded. “I didn’t think it was time for you to know, yet. But I wanted to make sure you were safe.”

“Does Steve know?”

You shook your head. “No. Peggy didn’t either. But I kept my eye on him when he came out of the ice. I waited for him to walk in here one day. He’d passed this place so many times. He would have known instantly considering the pictures I keep in here.”

“Why do you keep them here?”

You shrugged and smiled, if a little sadly. “Reminds me of a life I nearly had. Of a life others have had. That…” you gave a deep sigh, “that life keeps going but the past should never be forgotten. You never know when it might show up again.”

Bucky looked at you, and for the first time since the day he left you, he smiled. 

Your soul felt light again. 

Sheepishly, he looked at the cup in his hand before looking back at you. “I know I might be…”

Bucky took a guess at the amount of time. 

“Eighty years too late. And that you might own this place but…would you mind me buying you a cup of coffee sometime?”

You nodded, trying to suppress the glow in your smile. “I’d love that.”

[howlingmod]

I never asked anyone like you for a request (beacuse I just never asked for it) but can you do a father figure 007n7 x reader? If you don't mind, I might refrence your work into mine if i ever wanted to because i think it looks nice

[hugs from zyran]

summary - 007n7 + child reader (platonic), also c00lkid is here

misc - So. I may have gotten carried away. this doesn't fit the prompt the best. (MY BAD. genuinely very sorry i was struggling). but i would be more than happy to do follow up or something im really a fan of this reader. lot of fun ideas to be had

-You were a weird kid. You couldn't remember much of where you came from and how you got where you were, couldn't think of anyone you could call your family, couldn't think of anywhere you could call home. With nothing to tie you down, you had to learn how to adapt to your surroundings.

-You learned how to lay low, hiding in plain sight and vanishing into crowds. If people did take notice of you, you knew exactly how to lose them in aisles and busy cities, making sure you got lost in all the action before they could get anywhere near you. You didn't want (or need, thank you very much) anyones help. You heard enough stories to let you know you'd just get tossed in with the rest of the unfortunate to be forgotten until you turned 18, and you'd much rather spend your days seeing the world.

-With all that you picked up from your surroundings, you eventually gained an interest in exploiting. You'd only seenn it yourself a few times, watching some other teens clip through walls to steal a few drinks from a gas station or something equally mundane, but you'd heard enough stories to have you hooked. You'd heard enough tales that people whispered to eachother about, seen the strictly-titled books detailing some of the most infamous that lined the scarcely visited corners of libraries, and you knew what you had to do next.

-It wasn't easy, not by any means, but you made it work. It's not exactly easy to get tutorials on something so looked down upon, especially the more advanced hacks, but you had all the time in the world to explore. Over time, you honed your craft, moving from slamming your hands into walls when it didn't work to effortlessly slipping through them. You just had to keep practicing and time would tell.

-Since it wasn't exactly easy to consistently secure food without any money or alerting others to your orphaned state, you started to implement your newfound skills to your daily routine. Only problem was it just forced you to realize some of the errors in your practice. It came to a head one night when you decided to try your luck with a local pizza place.

By that point, you were starving. It'd been a while since you'd eaten anything and you were exhausted from researching all day. Looking back on it now, that was probably big part of why things didn't go too well that night. You'd come up late, wanting to limit the number of possible witnesses.

There was one employee you'd spotted while cloaked heading out for a smoke break, so you'd have to carry out your attack before they got back. After sneaking around them, you'd looked in through one of the very corners of the windows, spotting one cashier and two customers. Not great conditions but you could make it work, at this rate you had to with how your stomsch was killing you.

Readying your nerves, you'd walked back to what you presumed to be the exterior walls of the kitchen. With another breath, you stepped forward, slipping through them with ease and starting your mental timer before the other employee returned. You had to be quick, analyzing your surroundings the moment you came to, completely unaware your sudden entry wasn't at all hidden from the customers thanks to a large doorway you weren't able to see from the window.

There were a few pizzas that seemed ready to go, though they weren't yet boxed up. You looked around for a stack of cardboard, hastily snatching one up the moment you spotted them and slipping one of the pizzas into it. You'd underestimated the weight of it, watching it slip off the lip of the box and onto the floor with a muted splat. You hissed, biting your lip in embarassment before brushing it off. You only had so much time, you couldn't cry over spilled pizza.

The next one went in fine, much to your hushed delight, and you made your way back out. The moment you passed the walls threshold you stopped. One pizza could last you a day or two but two pizzas could last you even longer. Without a second thought, you set the first box down, turned around, and made your way for another. This time, you didn't pick up on the exchange that started with your arrival.

"Papa! Look!" C00lkid cheered, pointing into the kitchen excitedly.

"Huh?" 007n7 looked where his son was pointing, being met with nothing. It was curious but he couldn't pay attention to it right now, busy with ordering.

You found another two pizzas, carefully inching them over into boxes and stacked them up. While you were at it, you decided to pick up a few sodas, you could use the sugar, you were getting pretty tired out lately. Once you'd carefully arranged your haul, you sized it up. It would be a lot to carry and you weren't too confident in balancing it all as you walked. There had to be some bags around here...

Just as you began to scour around, C00lkid separated from his father, quietly padding over to get a better look into the kitchen. He stood and watched as you dug around, looking in boxes and scrambling through the contents of drawers. Finally, you'd managed to find a stack of plastic bags in one box, temporarily struggling to peel one away from the others before you began to quietly open it up, wincing as it crinkled.

At the same moment you got back to your pile of food and began to put it away, everything came crashing down. The back door began to swing open, the other employee walking in with tired eyes before they caught sight of you, shooting wide open.

"Papa, look! There's a-"

"THIEF!"

You jolted upright, staring back like a deer in headlights before scrambling to get everything into the bag. One can clattered onto the floor, narrowly missing the plastic. They stood in shock while the cashier rounded the corner to see you as well, immediately darting over to try and catch you. Just as their arms tried to cage you in, you clipped through them, just barely keeping your bag with you.

"HACKER?!" The other employee shouted, still in shock.

The commotion had pulled n7 from his daze, drawing him over to his son, if only to make sure he didn't get caught in the crossfire. He wasn't sure what he expected to see when he looked into the kitchen, but he certainly wasn't expecting you. He'd seen you just a few seconds before you managed to get back through the wall, hardly disturbing a thing in your way. He recognized the exact exploit you were using as one of the first ones he'd ever learned. You were a novice for sure but, this young? You were well ahead of where he was at your age.

"Oh, for the love of God," Elliot groaned, staring at the spot you'd been moments prior before hiding his face in his hands.

"Should we like .. call someone?" The other asked, giving him a lost look.

"I don't even care, man."

-For the next few days, n7 couldn't stop thinking about the whole ordeal. Sure, he'd seen plenty of hackers before, of all different times and from all different scenes but .. you stuck with him. You looked so scrawny, so small. Maybe being a parent had made him soft- No, it definitely had, but he couldn't stop thinking about you. He did the same thing but he just did it for fun, you clearly had some need for it. Kids don't just look like that, learn this and steal food for no reason, that wouldn't make sense. You were long gone by the time they got outside, not like he'd expected you to stay around the scene long. C00lkid had helped him look around for a little bit to no avail, you made yourself vanish within seconds.

-It'd rained a few days later and he couldn't help but feel sick. He didn't know your situation but the guilt of just watching you run off was eating him alive. He found himself staring out the window, looking for something that never showed up. That night, he laid awake, staring up at the ceiling and listening to every drop hit the roof. The hours crawled by and sleep never found him. He couldn't live like this.

-The next day he'd dropped C00lkid off at school he'd asked Noli to pick him up and watch him till he got back, as he'd be busy with something. Noli had tried to ask him about it but only got a 'I'll tell you later,' in reply. He was too caught up in your case to explain himself right now. He'd tried to look for any reports on similar, recent cases but came up with next to nothing. You'd been keeping your exploiting on the down low for a while now if he had to guess, going off how .. iffy, your pizza heist had gone, that had clearly been your capstone project, an over extension of your abilities.

-You'd been keeping yourself out of trouble then, which was good. However, it gave him one location to go off of, which wasn't as good. Considering you hadn't teleported away, he figured you either A) hadn't learned how to yet, or B) lived in the area. With little else to go off of, he had to hope it was B, as he began his search. He looked into every alley he passed by, reluctantly going down each of them and scouring every corner of them. In a few especially embarrassing examples he'd been caught looking into dumpsters and turning over cardboard boxes, offering up a half-assed excuse about losing something that made most people narrow their eyes and slowly turn away, if only to make distance between him and them.

-He'd continued looking until the sun was just a few hours from the horizon with not a single clue or lead under his belt. Dreadfully, the idea that you were whole cities away began to creep into the forefront of his mind. It was only when he'd stopped into a convenience store for water that he'd gotten a lead.

"Long day?" The cashier asked, eyeing him up suspiciously. He wasn't in the best shape out of breath and distressed by hours of digging through dirty streets and other people's garbage.

"Ah, something like that," he laughed breathlessly, rubbing at his neck. He looked around the store idly, spotting the typical monitor of security cameras hanging up near the ceiling. He'd gazed into it, finding himself in one of the sightlines. Without a second thought, he asked, "Have you had anything get stolen recently?"

"Oh, are you kidding me? Every day some punk comes in here trying their luck, thinking they're a tough guy," they huffed, irritation hardening their voice, "Why? Is that a threat?"

"Oh! No, no, nothing like that! I just ... I know this is going to sound crazy, but I'm looking for someone and uh, the only thing I know about them is that they ..."

"Rob innocent people?"

"Borrow things," n7 winced, "Listen, I know that sounds bad but they're just a kid, I'm worried about them. I've got a son of my own and I just can't imagine what I'd do if I saw him in that kind of state doing things like this."

They cooled a little at that, shoulders lowering.

"I know you've probably got every reason not to tell me but I have to try, they deserve a chance, don't they?"

n7 stared at them, watching as they tapped their fingers on the counter and looked everywhere but at him. After a few long moments, they cracked, hunching over with a sigh, "I think I might know who you're talking about. I caught them here a few nights ago, from what I've heard they live somewhere near the park, under the bridge or in that storage shed, I'm not sure. Not my circus, not my monkeys."

n7 lit up at that, perking up instantly, "Oh- Thank you, you don't know how long i've been looking. Really, I can't thank you enough."

"Just get that kid far away from my store, I already deal with enough sticky fingers as is," They grunted in response.

-The moment n7 had paid for his stuff, he was out the door heading towards the park. Honestly, that should've been one of the first places he checked. He didn't have enough time to criticize his past decision, busy searching for a familiar figure.

-The bridge had been completely abandoned, only a few wrappers and empty cans left behind to insicate anyone had ever been there. Anything from your robbery was absent, leaving him to check the storage shed instead. He didn't pay any mind to the hefty padlock on the door, it was more for show than anything, if this really was where you were staying.

-Sure enough, the boxes and soda cans were one of the first things he found inside. There were a few raggedy sheets and a makeshift mattress out of a few others. You'd built up quite the stash of miscellanious belongings. Clearly, you'd been on your own for a bit, but just how long...? The pit in n7's stomach reappeared, deeper with even more guilt.

"Are you stalking me?" The sudden voice had caused him to nearly jump out of his skin, whipping around to see the owner of it. You were standing a few feet behind him, eyeing him up cautiously with a laptop tucked in one arm, the other clenched at your side.

"Wh- No, no I'm not stalking you. I just want to help you is all, it's not safe for you to be alone," He tried, making his voice as small and nonthreatening as possible. With the path you were on and your situation, he hardly expected you to be accomodating. He had to be careful of what he said here, one wrong word and the whole thing would fall apart.

"So you're stalking me."

"No, I'm- That's not," n7 stammered, struggling for the right thing to say. He wasn't exactly an expert in handling delicate situations, he barely even knew what he was doing with C00lkidd half the time.

"Weren't you an exploiter?" You asked, curioisity bleeding into your voice. There it was, that was an opening he could use, right? Find common ground then go from there ...

"Yes, I was. I see you've been learning. You're pretty impressive for a kid," you almost smiled at that, a twitch of the lips that was snatched away in an instant, corrected as soon as you noticed the slip-up.

"You aren't anymore. Why'd you stop?"

"Well, exploiting can hurt a lot of people. I ... I just wasn't proud of who I was, that's why I'm so w-"

You cut him off before he could even try segwaying into your situation, "That's stupid. You learned all that just to throw it away?"

n7 stiffened at that, this was clearly veering down the wrong path, derailing right before his eyes, "It's not throwing it away, it's just that you can't take advantage of people like that."

"Why shouldn't I? Not like they've done anything for me " you hissed, pulling your laptop up over your chest.

Fuck. This was going bad, really bad. You'd already taken a half-step back, you were so close to just running off and starting this whole process again. He got down on a knee, lowering to your height, "Listen, I know people haven't been kind to you and I'm so, so sorry for that. I can help you figure this out, I've got plenty of space and food- I've got a son just like you, actually."

You'd relaxed a little, setting your foot back down on the ground.

He smiled, "Or, if you don't trust me, I'd be happy to help you find someone else. I know there are plenty of people who'd be happy to take you in."

That set you off again. Instantly, any of the consideration you had was replaced with something more active, more aggressive. You clutched your arms around your laptop, hunching over it and grit your teeth, leering up at him, "Like I need your help! I'm not falling for this stupid trap, I'm not just gonna throw this all away! Just leave me alone!"

With that, you spun on your heel and ran through the wall, leaving him to spring up and stumble after you.

"I didn't mean it like that- I'm not gonna turn you in or anything. Just wait!"

He'd only caught you for a few seconds before he blinked, opening his eyes to see nothing. Where you'd been darting off moments ago, you were gone. Did you teleport? He hadn't seen any menu... He stared for a few seconds longer, scanning the horizon. Nothing, absolutely nothing, was around. You'd completely vanished.

He looked up at the sky, being met with sunset. The later half of one, too. When had it gotten so late? It'd been noon not too long ago. The sky was tinted with red, absent of any answers. Reluctantly, he turned away, heading back home. He'd have to try something else, maybe he should just call someone, he didn't have time to run around like this with C00lkidd. Speaking of which, how was he doing? He hoped he hadn't been too much trouble for Noli.

-***-

Your bones hurt, or maybe it was your muscles. Something was hurting, that's all you knew. You weren't too worried about it. From the way that shadow had made it out, you had all the time in the world to get better, stronger. The menu in front of you was stacked with new exploits, you'd been scrolling through it with glazed over eyes, each name drawing your interest with all the possibilities.

As you limbs laid heavy on the ground, your hand kept scrolling. You stopped briefly on one, '/fling.' You looked past the menu, finding a nearby log and typing in your best approximation of its ID. The second you hit execute, you watched it go flying, soaring through the sky until it inevitably hit the ground with a distant 'splash.' You smiled, a weak little laugh prying its way out of your scratchy throat. You spared your legs a glance, they looked so strange. Did you always look like this? Had you always had such sharp nails? Is that why everyone looked at you like that?

"Hey! That looks just like my dads!" A voice cried next to you, echoey and distorted. The owner plopped down by your side, leaning into your field of vision with a grin.

"He uses it to teleport us to school!" He beamed, rocking back and forth, "Can you teleport?"

You stared at the small boy out of the corner of your eye, meeting his excited, expectant eyes. Numbly, you shifted your eyes back towards the menu, finding the '/tp' and digging through your mind for a random ID number. Your fingers found the keys before they even registered in your mind, the screen an extension of your arm more than anything. As you hit 'execute,' a soda can fell and tipped over next to your knee.

The boy gasped, snatching the can up giddily, "Awesome! What else can you do?"

You found yourself looking for another command before you could even process his words, scrolling for the next object of interest. 'He looks so strange,' you thought, not too far off from how you looked, though. As he settled in to watch you work, you found you didn't mind either of your appearances.

[catssluvr]

dating iris headcanons <3 (ace!reader)

✿ ! Has full devotion to you and only has eyes for you, sees you as her one and only person.

✿ ! Loves you so innocently, always looking at you with heart yes and the cutest smile across her face. Rests her chin on her hand while admiring you and forgetting about everything else.

✿ ! Constantly tells you about her feelings for you, never grows tired of showing you her affection. Compliments you in pretty much everything you do.

“i’ve loved you since i set eyes on you, you know? <3”

✿ ! Gets so giggly when you do it to her, even if you do something simple like telling her how much you love the outfit she’s wearing or compliment her hair.

✿ ! Slow dancing with her on the living room to some romantic 80s love song, her head resting on your shoulder with your arms around her waist.

✿ ! Plans the best dates ever for the both of you, loves to be in charge of that type of thing. Her favorites are picnics by the park, laying her head on your shoulder while you read a book.

✿ ! Is rather surprised when you don’t ever make a move on her, might overthink it at first and get insecure about it. But when the time comes and you tell her it’s just not something you wish to do, she’s more than happy with it.

✿ ! Iris is not opposed to being intimate with someone but doesn’t really feel like it’s something she needs to have a perfection relationship with you.

✿ ! Feels even more giddy at realizing you’re with her because of who she is and not because of some other type of interest.

✿ ! Knows about all of your interests and loves to indulge in them with you. Loves to hear you rant about your latest read and will never make you feel bad about talking a lot. Is always eager to rewatch your favorite movie for the 10th time.

✿ ! Comes up behind you while you’re cooking, wrapping her arms around you and resting her chin on your shoulder. Always tells you how good the food smells and how she’s excited to try it.

✿ ! If you compliment her clothes, know that she will remember your favorites and wear them more often. Not to mention she’s bought loads of clothes just because they were your favorite color.

✿ ! Texts you throughout the day about the most random things, likes to tell you about what she’s doing and you’re the first she tells if something happens.

✿ ! Calls you ‘baby’ like it’s your actual name. Pretty much SWOONS if you use pet names on her, mostly stuff like ‘pretty/gorgeous girl’.

“hey, pretty girl.”

“me? :))”

✿ ! Now that Iris is free from her ex boyfriend’s toxic grip and has someone who sees her as her own person, she finally gets a job. Probably works at something related to fashion and literally beams whenever you visit her at lunchtime.

✿ ! Loves to have something matching you. An outfit, a necklace, even socks. It makes everyone know that you’re both dating and she just loves to show you off.

✿ ! In that same matter, Iris always holds your hand while in public. Not just for the nice feeling of it but also because she just genuinely likes to follow you everywhere - as long as that doesn't bother you.

✿ ! Really loves music, your house always has some music playing on the speakers in the background while you're doing daily activities. You have a corner on your living room with a shelf full of records that you've been collecting for ages.

✿ ! The idea of having a domestic life with you is absolutely everything to her, decorates your house in the comfiest and homiest way possibly. All smiley everything she sees your toothbrushes next to one another on the cup or your both your shoes by the door.

✿ ! Is also a fan of flowers, has a little garden that she takes care of with her life. Gets literally giddy whenever you surprise her with flowers, has a vase that is specifically for the flowers that you give to her.

[daughterof-aphrodit]

ℕ𝕠𝕥𝕖𝕤 𝕠𝕟 𝔻𝕖𝕤𝕚𝕣𝕖 - Yeon Sieun

It wasn't like he didn’t want to have sex with you…

He just hadn’t found the right moment yet. Sieun liked to plan everything carefully — and you knew that very well. Still, with each passing day, your anticipation only grew stronger.

The two of you were complete opposites, and maybe that’s exactly what brought you together. Sieun loved listening to you talk about your day, and you loved telling him. It was simple, but full of affection.

You’d been dating for eleven months, and hadn’t had sex. You knew a healthy relationship was about more than just sex. But — thankfully — you also had a strong desire for him. And even though Sieun didn’t always show his feelings easily, you knew he wanted you too. Maybe more than he even realized.

You had always felt that desire simmering quietly, but were willing to wait for the right time. Until one ordinary day, everything changed.

You were in his room, rummaging through his notebooks looking for anything that might help you study for your math exam. But you found something much more… interesting.

“Erogenous zones in women”

A list written entirely in Sieun’s handwriting, filled with detailed notes about sensitive areas on a woman’s body.

God. There was nothing nerdier — and somehow sexier — than that. And of course, it was such a Sieun thing to do.

You started reading every line, every note, and your imagination drifted.

Not far. Actually, just a few steps — to the bed behind you. Where you pictured Sieun touching every one of those zones with quiet, curious precision.

From that moment on, something inside you shifted. The anticipation, the pent-up desire, the tenderness built over months — it all mixed together, heavy and undeniable.

…...

The kiss that night was different. Hotter. Hungrier.

Actually, you were different.

That morning, you’d woken up with Sieun wrapped around you, his body pressed against yours in a way that felt far more intentional than accidental. And since then, you couldn’t get the feeling of his warmth out of your mind.

Now, you were in his lap, your legs around his waist, kissing him like it was the only thing you’d ever wanted to do.

It started slow, but quickly turned intense. Your tongue met his with a deliberate rhythm, your teeth grazing just enough to make him shiver. Every soft moan that escaped your lips pushed him further out of his comfort zone.

Your hands tangled in his hair, pulling with just the right amount of pressure, while your hips moved slowly against him — just enough for him to feel it. Just enough to tease.

Sieun was panting between kisses, clearly overwhelmed. He’d never seen you like this. And the poor boy looked… lost.

— Did something happen? — he asked breathlessly, voice low and rough, his wide eyes locked onto yours.

You smirked, lips brushing his again, your voice a sultry whisper in his ear.

— I had a dream about you… — you murmured. — I dreamt I was sitting on your face… and then on your cock.

His eyes widened in pure shock. He’d never heard anything so filthy come out of your mouth. Probably hadn’t heard it from anyone. This wasn’t in any of the books he read.

But then, after a pause, he looked at you — cheeks flushed, eyes burning — and said:

— Let’s do it.

You stared back, surprised. You hadn’t expected those words.

So you kissed him again, harder this time. More deliberate. One hand slid around his neck, the other gripping his waist as you pressed your body into his, telling him everything you needed without a single word.

And Sieun surrendered. Entirely.

Ready to follow your touch, your voice — whatever you wanted from him.

[miapotterismyfav]

Innocence

———————————————

Summary: Sirius Black thought he had Y/N all figured out—until one offhand comment sends his world into a tailspin and unearths far more than he bargained for.

Matching: Siriusxfem!reader, Remusxfem!reader

Previous part, next part

———————————————

Chapter Two: Fact Confirming Mission Only

The library was too quiet for how loud Sirius felt.

He stormed through the rows like a one-man battalion, scanning tables, ears ringing with the words “Remus”, “gone”, and “wearing his jumper”. Marlene’s voice had echoed like a ghost all the way from the cupboard. And now, here Remus Lupin sat. Calm. Reading. Annotating a textbook like he wasn’t a traitor to all that was holy and good.

Sirius slammed his bag on the table.

Remus didn’t flinch. “Afternoon.”

“You,” Sirius said through gritted teeth, “have some explaining to do.”

Remus looked up slowly, quill poised mid-air. “Are you here about the chocolate frogs? Because I already told Peter I didn’t eat them.”

Sirius leaned in. “Did you or did you not sleep with Y/N?”

There was a pause. Remus blinked. “Pardon?”

“You heard me.”

“Loud and clear. Which is impressive, since this is a library,” he added pointedly, looking around.

Sirius grabbed a chair, sat down, and hissed, “Answer the question.”

Remus sighed, very put-upon. “I don’t kiss and tell.”

“That’s not a no,” Sirius whispered, eyes narrowing.

“I’m not confirming or denying anything, Padfoot.”

“So yes,” Sirius said, throwing his arms out. “It’s a yes.”

“I didn’t say yes.”

“You didn’t say no!”

“I also didn’t say I’ve snogged Rosmerta, but here we are.”

“Don’t do that thing where you get all logical and condescending, it makes me want to push you out a window.”

Remus closed his book slowly, placed his quill down like a man preparing for battle. “Are you upset because I’ve kissed someone, or because it was her?”

Sirius opened his mouth, then shut it again. “She’s not—She’s Y/N!”

“Yes,” Remus said dryly, “I’m aware. We’ve met.”

“She colour-codes her calendar by subject! She’s allergic to spontaneous fun! She turned down a dare to skinny dip in fourth year because, and I quote, ‘the lake isn’t heated.’”

Remus tilted his head. “And yet, somehow, she’s still managed to have a more interesting love life than you.”

Sirius stared at him like he’d been physically struck. “You’re—you’re dating?”

There was a pause. Remus looked away for a second too long. “We’re… talking.”

“‘Talking’?” Sirius repeated. “What is this, third year?”

Remus’s mouth twitched. “Fine. We’ve hooked up a few times. She’s… important to me.”

Sirius felt like someone had swapped out all the oxygen in the room. “Since when?”

“Since the New Year’s party,” Remus admitted. “But we’ve been… getting closer for a while.”

Sirius sat back hard, blinking. “You never said anything.”

Remus gave him a level look. “You never asked.”

—————————————————————————

Sirius stormed out of the library in a daze, only to land himself right in the middle of lunch. He moved like a man possessed, dropping into his seat at the Gryffindor table with all the grace of a falling bookshelf.

James raised an eyebrow from across the table. “You good, mate?”

“No,” Sirius muttered, ripping a bread roll in half with unnecessary aggression.

James followed his gaze across the hall, to the Slytherin table.

Y/N sat near the middle, head tilted in laughter, her elbow nudging Regulus Black of all people—his brother—who looked unusually relaxed, even slightly smug as he passed her something under the table. A letter? A Chocolate Frog? A declaration of eternal sin?

She smiled at whatever he said, nudging him with her shoulder like they’d been doing it for years.

Sirius clenched his jaw.

“She’s probably shagging him, too,” he muttered under his breath.

James froze, halfway to a bite of roast potato. “Who?”

“Regulus,” Sirius hissed. “My own flesh and blood.”

James blinked. “You think Y/N’s shagging your brother?”

“It makes perfect sense,” Sirius said darkly. “She’s playing the long game. Infiltrate the Marauders from within. She’s already got Remus, now she’s circling Reg to get to me. By Tuesday she’ll have my Gringotts account access and the bloody map.”

“You need to lie down.”

“She’s collecting us. Like cursed trading cards.”

“She smiled at him, mate. People do that. It doesn’t mean she’s plotting the downfall of your bloodline.”

Sirius shot him a betrayed look. “You’re not taking this seriously.”

“I am,” James said. “I’m seriously wondering if you’ve eaten enough today.”

Y/N laughed again—laughed—at something Regulus said, and Sirius felt his soul leave his body.

“I think I need to duel him.”

James choked. “You can’t duel your own brother over a girl you’re not dating.”

“It’s a matter of principle.”

“You don’t have principles, you have meltdowns.”

“She used to braid her hair so tight it squeaked when she turned her head,” Sirius whispered like a man remembering a past life. “She cried when I fell off my broom in first year. She saved me a seat in Potions every Monday.”

“And now she’s talking to your brother. The horror.”

“I liked it better when she was boring and safe and wore knee socks year-round.”

“She still wears knee socks, Sirius”

“Not for me, she doesn’t.”

Remus, who’d appeared behind them with a plate and a very knowing smirk, added unhelpfully, “She wore them last night.”

Sirius let out a strangled sound and collapsed face-first onto the table.

—————————————————————————

The Slytherin common room was blissfully quiet—aside from Regulus, who was currently trying to hex his own shoelaces into submission.

“You realise you could just untie them, right?” Y/N asked, flipping the page of her Charms notes without looking up.

“They’re cursed,” Regulus muttered, wand waving in frustration. “I can feel it.”

“You also thought the toast was cursed last week.”

“It was burnt in the shape of the Grimm.”

“It was the Ravenclaw crest, Reg. You’re not that special.”

He gave her an unimpressed glare and sat back with a defeated sigh, boots still tangled.

She smirked and tossed him a sweet from her pocket. “For the trauma.”

Regulus caught it, muttering a reluctant, “Thanks,” as she finally glanced up at him.

Despite being a Black, Reg had grown on her. Mostly because he was smart, sarcastic, and often looked like he was enduring a mental breakdown in muggle studies. Her kind of people.

The door to the common room opened and someone walked past, dropping to the lounge with a sigh. Dramatic entrance.

She blinked. Sirius.

She could feel him even before she looked.

Because of course he was here. Of course he’d found some excuse to storm down into Slytherin territory like a man on a warpath. He didn’t even acknowledge her. Just sat near the fireplace, talking loudly to a portrait about “ancient family betrayals” and “spiteful siblings.”

Y/N raised a brow at Regulus. “Is he broken?”

Reg didn’t look up from his shoelaces. “He’s been circling like a shark since breakfast. Started glaring at me halfway through my eggs.”

“Oh good,” she said dryly. “He’s added fratricide to the mood board.”

Regulus finally looked up, voice bored. “What did you do to him?”

She smiled innocently. “What makes you think I did anything?”

“Because he’s being Sirius. And you’re… you.”

She didn’t respond—just stood, stretched, and collected her things.

As she passed Sirius by the fire, she tossed him a lazy smile. “Nice of you to visit, Black. Trying to reconnect with your roots?”

He turned toward her a second too fast, expression somewhere between longing and unhinged. “I was just—”

“Don’t worry,” she said, stepping around him. “I’m sure she was worth the cupboard burn.”

His mouth opened. Closed. Opened again.

Before he could speak, she was already sweeping past.

—————————————————————————

Professor Green’s lecture on inferi was starting to feel like a lullaby. Y/N’s mind drifted, only half-paying attention to the professor’s drone about the dangers of corpses rising from the dead. She'd lived long enough in Slytherin to know the dead didn’t scare her. The living were far more dangerous.

The weight on the back of her neck told her that she wasn’t being left alone. It wasn’t the eyes of the professor, nor her classmates. It was his gaze.

Sirius Black. Of course. She felt his intense stare like a physical presence.

Glancing up lazily, she caught his gaze. He was sitting back, quill in hand, tapping it rhythmically against his bottom lip. It was like he knew the exact angle that would make her stomach twist—just enough to keep her on edge.

Y/N rolled her eyes and gave him an exaggerated yawn, tapping her fingers on her desk as if to signal her growing boredom with both the lesson and his silent theatrics.

Sirius tilted his head. His lips twitched into a half-smirk. Then, in the most Sirius of moves, he flicked a piece of parchment toward her.

The note landed on her desk with an almost too-perfect timing. She unfolded it without a hint of hesitation.

“You’re looking especially… studious today.”

Her lip curled into a smile despite herself. Sirius was insufferable, but she couldn’t help but enjoy his brand of torment. She scribbled back without even lifting her head from her notes.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were trying to distract me.”

The note was back in an instant, this time a little more hurried, as if he was genuinely trying to provoke her.

“Distract you? I was just admiring the view. Those knee socks are hot.”

Y/N froze. She glanced at the note, then at Sirius, who was now looking at her with that infamous, half-amused, half-challenging expression.

She folded the note neatly and then sent it flying across the room, straight into his hands. The corner of her mouth twitched as he uncrumpled it eagerly.

“You’re quite right. If I were wearing knee socks, you’d be the last person to notice.”

This time, Sirius’s brow furrowed, but only for a second. He looked down at the parchment and then back at her, lips pulling into a grin.

“Touché, Y/N. But just so you know, I notice everything.”

She didn’t respond immediately, her eyes scanning the rest of the class. She could feel the pull of his attention, and it was the only thing she could focus on now. It wasn’t just Sirius Black. It was the anticipation of something unspoken hanging between them.

When the next note arrived, it was the final straw.

“So, is it true? About Remus?”

She felt her pulse quicken.

A subtle flash of something flickered in her chest as she took a breath, looked over at him, and then whispered without a second thought:

“It’s not your business, Black.”

He didn’t press further, but the smile didn’t leave his lips.

The class seemed to go on forever after that, the tension between them growing with every passing second. She didn’t know what it meant—didn’t want to. She wasn’t the type to get caught up in Sirius Black’s drama.

But for the rest of the lesson, she couldn’t help but feel the weight of his gaze.

—————————————————————————

The Black Lake sparkled under the late afternoon sun, its surface catching the light like glass. Y/N leaned back on her elbows, her green and silver tie loosened just enough to look casually disheveled, like she hadn’t tried at all (though she absolutely had). Her skirt rode a little higher when she stretched her legs out, and she didn’t bother fixing it. If people looked, let them.

Remus, sitting cross-legged beside her with a book half-forgotten in his lap, was definitely trying not to look. But his ears were pink.

“Something wrong, Lupin?” she asked, voice all honey and bite.

Remus blinked, like he’d just realised he was staring. “No—no, not at all. You’re just very distracting when you’re smug.”

She grinned. “I’m always smug.”

He gave a small, helpless laugh and glanced down at the book again, but his eyes didn’t move with the text.

Y/N let the breeze sweep through her hair as she plucked a blade of grass and twirled it between her fingers. “You know,” she mused, “I used to be terrified of talking to you.”

Remus looked up, startled. “Me?”

“Mm-hmm.” She smiled, a little wickedly. “You were quiet. Bookish. Serious. Intimidating.”

He snorted. “I was intimidating? You’re the one who had half the school convinced you had basilisk blood by third year.”

“That was an accident. I told one first-year he should watch where he’s going before he ends up cursed and the rumour just... grew.”

“I don’t know. I think you liked it.”

“I loved it,” she admitted with a smirk. “People didn’t bother me. Until fifth year. When everyone suddenly wanted to.” She gave him a sidelong glance. “Including you lot.”

Remus blushed again. “Right. Well. That’s not entirely inaccurate.”

She bumped her shoulder into his. “Don’t worry. You’re the only one who ever tried talking to me like I wasn’t a dare.”

He went quiet at that, and when she looked over, he was already looking at her with that soft, unreadable expression of his. She swallowed, but didn’t look away. Not until someone’s voice echoed across the lawn.

“Y/N!”

She turned lazily to see a seventh-year Ravenclaw boy jogging toward them, looking sun-kissed and cocky. He threw himself dramatically onto the grass in front of her, ignoring Remus completely.

“Thought I’d find you out here. You coming to Slughorn’s party tonight? Rumour is there’s firewhisky and a game of truth-or-dare that might end in someone skinny-dipping in the Prefects’ bath.”

Y/N tilted her head. “Is that an invitation or a threat?”

“Only if you pick dare.” He winked.

She grinned, all teeth. “Then I guess I’ll be picking truth.”

“Boring,” the boy groaned, flopping back.

Y/N turned back to Remus, already dismissing the boy with a roll of her eyes. “See what I mean?”

Remus smiled, bemused. “You’re very popular.”

“I’m very bored,” she corrected, voice low. “Except with you.”

That made Remus flush again, but he didn’t look away this time. “Glad I’m keeping up.”

—————————————————————————

Tag list

@bache3

@amatoanima

[echodoctor]

I've noticed a few people take "the Universe leads and we follow" to mean that the Northern Island's spiritual traditions were a more authoritarian kind of faith, similar to something like Catholicism- God hands down decrees and mortals must obey them.

And while that is one way you could interpret that, it's very much not the way I read it when I saw that line.

I do want to preface this by saying I am some extremely white dumbass who knows shit about this secondhand only so please take what I am about to say with not so much as grain as an entire Lot's wife worth of salt, but:

I think the followers of the Universe might have something closer to Taoism going on.

Again, this is something I'm very vague on, but I remember reading that the ideal in Taoism is essentially to be in utter harmony with the natural rhythms of the world around you, effortlessly moving with them instead of desperately struggling against the flow. The world has natural processes: night follows day, decay follows death, the tides come in and out, etc. Understand and accept those processes, and you can float through seemingly effortlessly, because the natural movements of the world are at your back and carrying you forward, instead of something you struggle against.

There's a dynamic that shows up in a lot of classical Chinese stuff between Confucianism (very concerned with things being right and correct and proper) and Taoism, where the Confucian is angrily trying to make everything Work The Way It Should and the Taoist is affectionately teasing the Confucian for getting so worked up, and is having a much easier time because they've accepted the way things already are.

Like, the Confucian walks through a lovely peach grove and keeps getting mad because the trees are shedding leaves all over the path and no one bothered to rake them off, you're supposed to be keeping these paths clear, doesn't anyone do anything around here! The Taoist just has a nice walk and enjoys the peaches, maybe catches a nice ripe tasty fruit right before it falls on the Confucian's head.

I don't think it would be a one-to-one thing, but my personal guess is that the followers of the Universe believed in something similar.

The Universe leads you, in the same way that an ocean current sweeping you out to sea is leading you. That's just the way it is, and you can either struggle against it until you tire yourself out and drown, or you can recognize what's happening and learn how to ride the current to your destination.

This could have both positive aspects (compassion and acceptance towards others, living in peace with the world instead of changing it by violence) and negative ones (sometimes the world really does need to be changed, and you don't just have to accept things that make you miserable instead of working to fix them).

We can see a lot of that negative side in both the King and Siffrin. The King urges the party to be frozen at their happiest moment, because he can't wrap his head around the idea that you could make things even better instead of just being given something and praying you don't lose it. Siffrin falls into the natural rhythm of the script, and doesn't try to fight against what feels the most correct because this is how things are, why would he believe that's something he has the power to change?

(One big difference here is that Taoism also believes that change is one of the fundamental forces, that the world is constantly changing, whereas I think the Followers of the Universe would probably be a kind of narrative foil for the House of Change in canon, just for story purposes.)

(Sometimes things need to change, and sometimes you need to accept them. A healthier outlook probably finds a good balance of both.)

When the Change God tells Siffrin that his god "will never really talk to you", I wonder if a follower of the Universe who remembered more about their beliefs could have argued back that their god never stops speaking?

Through the flight of birds, the movement of clouds, the beating of your own heart- the Universe is speaking all the time. To live is to be in constant conversation with it.

It's fun and all the think the universe is being mean to Loop and Siffrin but tbh I like to think the universe is more apathetic than actively malicious. Real "a universe that doesn't care but people do" type of deal.

The universe is hard to grasp or even personify. According to the change god the universe can't even talk to its followers. It's so massive and incomprehensible it just can't.

Like... imagine you had to do something for one of the like octillion atoms that make up your body. You don't know this thing, you don't know it's situation, not really. It's kinda hard to pay attention when you're busy being... well perpetual existence. But it becomes just loud enough to hear. Hurts just enough to feel. But instead of squashing this thing like a bug you give it a crumb and simply move on.

But that also makes the whole "The universe leads and we must follow" philosophy very hilarious. Like the universe does NOT know what the little specks on this single planet are doing just like we don't notice how our cells move around in our body.

The universe isn't leading shit. It's giving you the tools to do it yourself. It's like when you ask your mom to drive you somewhere and she just hands you the keys and says don't wreck the car, except this "mom" doesn't comprehend that its kids aren't even old enough to drive (aka can't handle godly powers like timecraft)

[kayywaiii]

good person !! ⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆

{prohero!izuku x neighbor!reader}

summary : after a particularly shitty night and a heroic sleep rescue leaves you keen over a mysteriously kind man, you find him again after a run in with his very not allowed cat.

mood song : carnival - the cardigans (- w - )

words : 3.3k wrds

warnings : light cursing, FLUFF, kissing, tan curly haired izuku agenda, mentions of scars+injury, crushing izuku, light themes of stalking, (not really tho) izuku goes feral for reader, reader has a dog, izuku has a cat, next door romance

authors note: i literally stopped a wip for this bc i just saw the vision like in my near future ... also like i made this cute banner and for what now i had to finish it !! also i was probably riding on the motivation of knowing izuku's the number 4 hero now uh hell yeah

You weren’t making it to class on time tomorrow, you were sure of it. 

God, could their arguing get any louder? Why this late at night? What could it possibly even be about?

Something about rent… and then something else about another girl. Then an entire monologue about heroes and villains… was this guy serious? You stared at your apartment ceiling, two pillows pressed against your ears and a hopeful thought that a lighting strike would just take both of them down ringing through your head. Maybe then you could get a full night's rest, or at the very least, enough for your class tomorrow morning. You promised to yourself that you weren’t normally that violent, just particularly sleepy– and to be fair to them you weren’t a fierce arbiter of the complex rules either. There were three:

No Loud Noises After 10pm Keep Respectful of Complex Property  Absolutely No Pets 

It’s not like you strictly followed all three… you were housing a small dog, Kiwi, even though your landlord made it personally clear that there were no pets allowed. And you tried to get rid of her a few months ago when you first moved in, you really did. But her floppy ears, spots on her cheeks that were reminiscent of freckles, and lightly browned fur had you swooning, and before you even knew it, you were already hiding her toys during inspections. 

So, maybe it felt a little hypocritical to wish death upon the couple on the breezeway outside. Still, you had half a mind to go out there and lecture them until they both worked out whatever grudge they had against each other. A dog was one thing, especially if she never barked, not even once. But these people outside— they did a whole lot of barking. And you almost got up too, clad in your pajamas and all, ready to stumble into the outdoor hallway and curse until your point got across.  But a voice, smooth and decadent interrupted their yelling, so sweet you could practically hear the soft smile he wore. The man coaxed the both of them not only to calm down, but apologize too. And… god, was he making them hug? You were baffled by the sheer volume of the diplomatic people skills this person must have been sporting, you were sure it must be their quirk. Whatever it was it got them quiet enough for you to drift off to sleep, sullen and dreaming about a man that would whisk you away with a smile.

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ

A shuffling at your window the next morning awoke you, dazed and confused after the best sleep in your life. Something about that guy’s voice just brought you there, damn there hanging off your twin sized bed and drool swept against the inner corner of your mouth. You lifted your head, running a hand over your hair before sliding off your bed to make a quick coffee. You muttered something about a breezy shower and– was the sun shining a little brighter this morning? You swore your copious amounts of house plants looked fuller with life today, your posters of various heroes illuminated and basking in the glory of the bright sun. You swore your small studio looked bigger in a sense, more light as you took out your takeout from the fridge. You stood at your counter, shoveling noodles into your mouth and breathing in this much needed– and much limited– time of peace. 

Another shuffling at the window just above your bed startled you, setting the takeout box down and climbing on top of the bed built into the nook of your room between the apartment and bathroom wall. A small cat purred at your window, eyes wide and big and brown, brushing its fur at the glass. It meows loudly, putting its paw over the hatch and seemingly gesturing you to open your window. Candles and small potted plants lined the ledge of the window, making it hard for you to find the lock to click it open. When you finally did, the small thing leapt through the opening and straight onto your bed. You scoff, bewildered. You weren’t the only person in the complex breaking the rules, you guessed. 

“Hey there, sweet thing…where's your owner?” You scrunch your eyebrows together, watching the cat hop down from your bed and stretch over your floor like it owned the space it sat. It let out a soft meow, large eyes blinking back at you as it skipped over your furniture and picked at your plants. Then, that voice– rugged and clearly fatigued called out from the open corridors outside. 

“Neko?” He spoke, the sounds of clattering pots and keychains ringing from right outside your apartment door. He swore faintly when a pot shattered on the ground. Swept potting mix scattered under your door at the attempt of a makeshift cleanup, the whoosh of stray dead leaves catching the cat's attention and it scratched at the door.  “Neko, come on– I’ve got work…” 

“Is that you? Are you Neko?” You mumbled, clicking open your door. Reflected green shot across your vision, sun rays passing through his curls and painting your apartment walls like the Sistine Chapel. A light breeze whisked past the green’s hair and led your eyes to his tan, freckled face, one that knocked the thoughts right from your skull. He smelled of vanilla and freshly groomed puppies, like something soft you could just flop into, sleep for a little while. He swore, eyes widening at your sudden appearance, and carding a hand lightly through his tresses. Then he groaned, trying to brush white broken clay shards into his gloved palm. 

“Crap, I’m– I’m so, so sorry… I’ll replace this.” He hurriedly muttered, flicking his head down and furrowing his brows in contained frustration. Your breath left your body, face warming in silent attraction as you cleared your throat and leaned over him to check the damage. Hundreds of tiny bits of argil sat at his feet, littered across the breezeway and towards the edge of the corridor. Bits of thick pieces you’d hand painted sat face up on the concrete, and so did the small bud that had been slowly inching towards the complex ceiling for weeks.

“Don’t… stress about it, ‘s fine. Not your fault I was too lazy to take it inside.” You choke up and force a smile, playing with a pimple on the base of the back of your neck. God, you knew you were jittery, watching him stand to his full height and cup the pieces of pot in his clunky gloves. You were hardly able to force out a coherent sentence, nevermind keep up a steady conversation with your next-door neighbor. 

Here he was, donning his hero armor and flowing yellow cape that he barely tucked under grey sweats. Chunky red shoes and gloves that clanked against his midriff, and the designs on his chest were faded and worn out. “You’re– Deku… aren’t you?” 

“Ah–Izuku,” He gives you a soft smile. “I, uh…  don’t think there’s a need for titles, we’re neighbors.” You dorkily nod, keeping your eyes anywhere but his. His presence felt overpowering, yet friendly, fit for the number four hero who not only rocketed in the ranks, but in popularity too. 

“Oh– well, thank you.” You curse internally, wishing this morning would already end. He chuckles, and that only seems to make it worse for the raging embarrassment seeping deep into your chest. He lets out an exasperated huff, shaking his head and keeping a strict eye on the doors down the hall. “I should be thanking you for sweeping this little one up.” He scoops his cat up from the floor beside you before opening his door and pushing him into the room. “He likes to roam.” A fond grin crosses his face.

“Actually– I wanted to thank you… for last night?” Your eyes bounce back up to his, taking in the way his biceps flex with every indifferent movement. Your neck heated up when his yellow scarf, faded and caked in dirt stains, fluttered behind him in the chilly spring wind. And God, you wished he was still tired and didn’t notice your shameless, obvious– and oh so necessary– ogling of him through his hero costume. “It was you wasn’t it? I– was actually able to get the best sleep.” You gushed, fighting the urge to drop to your knees and thank him raucously until the neighbors filed a complaint. It was just that important to you. Your sleep, that is. 

 He stared at you for a moment, before looking at his shoes in modesty and giving you a weak thumbs up. “It’s… no problem, really. It’s still kind of my job even if I’m off the clock.” He shuffled his feet and looked away, curt wind rushing through your thin sweater and making you shiver like a stray dog. You nodded awkwardly, about to retreat back into your studio when his voice called out again.

“I’ve got another way you could thank me!” He suddenly and practically yelled at you, catching a wrist in his blushing hand before dropping his fingers and clearing his throat.

You paused, eyes widening as you looked back at him. His face was visibly red, eyes darting with a nervousness you’d never seen displayed on a pro hero. You flushed, lashes fluttering and you felt so sick. Were you seriously about to throw up in front of him like this?

“Sorry?” You manage to mumble.

“Would…a date be okay?” He swallowed hard, bringing a calloused, gloved hand to his neck and playing with a curl. Your fingers clenched around the handle of the door, blinking in surprise and pure confusion as he watched you carefully, awaiting an answer. The silence was deafening, save for the soft meow and scratching of Neko at the door and the calm breeze whisking past the both of you in waves. Something about his clear nervousness calmed you, giving you enough courage to nod and say, “That’d– be great.”

ᯓ★ˎˊ˗

Izuku never had great luck with his words, his passionate spiels saved for the nassiest of villains who’d he believed deserved redemption. He just wanted to be a good person, someone that people regarded as a good man, like All Might. With that, his love for saving others always speaks for him, quickly leaving his mouth in perfect and persuasive sentences. With you, however? It was the most challenging thing he’s ever attempted. It'd been months before he finally spoke to you, and he was sure you hardly even knew he lived there due to your clearly starstruck expression. He’d watched you move in, heard you cursing up a storm over university homework, lugging in packages of dog food– which he knew you weren’t supposed to have. And yet still, he only hyped himself up in the expanse of his apartment, opting out of actually getting to the part where he might ask you out.

And so, he only watched you from afar– that was until today, when he’d haphazardly left his bedroom window ajar for his cat to sneak out and hop onto the flower boxes from flat to flat, keen on taking a rest in a particular someone’s bed. And now here you were, Neko languidly stretching at your feet like he hadn’t just ruined Izuku’s life. 

And Jesus did you look pretty, a thin sweater flanking a tank and pj pants hanging low on your hips. That was it, his life was ruined. He had no idea what to say to you, you who now looked at him with what he could only guess was annoyance at his breaking of your pot. And then you gave him a smile, assurance lacing your tone and a familiar excitement prevalent when you spoke again. 

“You’re Deku, aren’t you?” 

That just about killed him. And you were oh so pretty when you spoke– and when you thanked him profusely– that just about killed him too. 

Izuku scoured his brain, unable to flip through carefully picked notes and instead having to remember ounces of dating advice from Kacchan and Kirishima. His palms sweated and he brought them to wipe on his sweatpants. God, he felt like a highschooler again, that same dork who stuttered over every syllable. Kacchan would be confident, wouldn’t he? Loudmouthed, cocky– there was nothing keeping him from what he wanted. Izuku just had to channel all that. And that should be easy, right?

Shit, she’s walking away! He grimaced, feeling bile rise in his throat, catching your wrist, tongue finally betraying his mind’s first thoughts. 

“I’ve– I’ve got another way you could thank me.” He swallowed and allowed himself to meet your gaze, if only for a split moment. 

“...Sorry?” 

“Do you want to go out with me?” He tentatively asked, breach catching in his throat at your stricken expression. Your face was red, eyes widening in either shock or pure amusement. A cold wind passed, a moment passing seemingly even longer than that. And his breath all but left his body when you nodded and spoke, a smile widening on your face. 

“Okay.”

ᯓ★ˎˊ˗

His apartment was quaint, similar layout to yours, save for the bathroom adjacent to his small bed. It was a wonder he could even fit in it, you thought, looking over his height and large arms as he stood at his kitchenette opposite of the door. This setting was a lot more intimate than the first few of your dates a few months ago, your first one being to a nice restaurant, and then a lunch picnic at his agency. He always said he wanted to cook for you, which is why now, a few months into your relationship, he finally felt confident enough to do so.

 The room smelled of sizzling chicken and boiling noodles, the green bouncing from appliance to appliance muttering recipe ingredients to himself. You watched from the small arm chair he’d forced you to take a seat in, a practically offended look on his face when you offered your help.

“Are you kidding me?” He’d gawked. “Sit, I’ll cook for you.” 

So, instead you stared at pictures hung high on his apartment walls, some of his mother and others of his former classmates. Dynamight still wore his signature scowl, even as a teen, and Shoto timidly smiled for the camera. Izuku, clad in his UA uniform beamed bright, messy curls hardly kept like bright, flickering fire catching a swift air. It reminded you of your friends at secondary school, enthusiastic and eager for the world the new heros had promised. And Midoriya’s passion all but reassured you that promise would be kept. 

A short curse came from the man and the sound of glass shattering made your eyes flick up to him, his eyebrows scrunched tightly wound as he tried his best to flick the pain from his hand. You rose, quickly moving to where he was crouched near a broken glass jar and a large gash was present on his palm. Neko stretched atop the counter, eyes slit and a guilty meow coming from him. You sank next to Izuku, looking over his wound and bringing a cloth hanging from the oven to his cut. “Thanks…” He muttered, an embarrassed look in his eyes when they finally flicked up to you, to your sympathetic focus. He had to admit though, you looked really pretty up close like this. 

“Damn Neko.” He chuckled and you followed suit, helping him up and to his bathroom. It was a simple four by four, the mirror decked with motivational sticky notes and inspirational All Might posters. He blushed even more, clearing his throat and coming to a stand in front of the mirror, standing taller over the posters. “Bandages?” You asked, too preoccupied with his palm to tease him about it. “Under the sink.” He answered, voice cracking and eyes widened when you sat him down on the toilet. A comfortable silence washed over you and you as you rushed warm water over the previously used cloth and pressed it to his hand. His hands were warm, soft– apart from the countless scars littering his skin. This one, this one was just another notch added to his countless array. 

“I never pegged you for the rule breaking type, Midoriya.” You raised an eyebrow, giving him a teasing smile and he gave you a soft one back.

You rummaged through his cabinet while he watched in barely contained awe. He held his wrist, now dripping with blood and a swallow bobbing his throat as he nodded. “He’s a stray. It was cold– and it was raining… I couldn’t find it in me to leave him alone.” 

“That… sounds just like you… actually.” You chuckled, running the cloth under the water again and watching the clear liquid turn crimson. 

“What, a hero?” He wore a half-hearted smile, eyes flicking between you and his palm.

“Mm… a good person.”

His heart stuttered in his chest, breath slowing while he watched you press the bandage across his rough skin. He didn’t wince, not because it didn’t sting, but because he couldn’t help but redirect all his senses to you. His chest warmed, spreading throughout and up his throat like a liquid. You were too good and apparently you thought he was too. 

“A good person, hm?” 

“Of course.” You hummed, oblivious to the rising warmth of his cheeks and the goosebumps prickling on his skin. Did you not know how much you affected him? 

And he can’t help but lean down and capture your lips with his, leaving his bandage half lifting in the hurry of his passion. He pressed his hand to your thigh and then under it, effectively lifting you and on to his lap. Izuku tilted his head, delving deeper as you cup his freckled cheeks and giggle a soft, surprised sound. 

“Izu–” 

A strangled groan left his lips at your nickname, a knowing grin smiling into his mouth. You pushed back with just as much fervor, running your fingers over his scalp and sinking them deep into his curls. You whined when he pulled back, pressing chaste pecks to your neck and collarbone and cheek, seemingly drunk off the mere thought of you. His eyes were glazed over, hair tousled from your fingers running through it and he kept pulling you closer like you were about to disappear. He’s clearly timid, shy– but he clumsily presses his lips onto yours like he’d known to do this his entire life. 

It’s only when he hears the smoke detector ringing that he pulls away,  slipping you off his lap. He presses another kiss to your face before going to the kitchen where smoke pillows, lifting off the now burnt food and straight into the detector. He curses once more, fanning away smoke like his life solely depended on it, trying to calm the device before it annoyed the neighbors enough to contact the landlord. He carded a hand through his hair, watching you softly giggle at the entire fiasco. He let out a somewhat dejected sigh, giving you a sloppy grin and sliding across the room to cup your face. 

“I’m– sorry about dinner, love.” He exhales, but can’t help but give you more kisses on your jaw and cheek. He seemingly couldn’t pull away, large hands locked onto you like a wayward lifeline. 

“It’s cool, Zu… let's order takeout, mhm?” 

And Neko yawned, meowing in agreement atop his wooden dresser.

[er1nne]

hi! i’m the anon who requested a new part for “the interview with drew goes viral”. you actually posted it on my birthday, so i’m sending you a huge thanks, really.

i absolutely loved it and i also wouldn’t mind if you wanted to turn this into a series too hahah.

the two of them 🥺🥺🥺 i love that drew is going to the coffee shop after her, would love to see how their relationship grows! i’m in love with them and with the you you write. thanks again!!!

hope you’re doing well, have a nice weekend xxx

another run in with drew ♡

part one, part two, part three

author's note: love how this had become a series lol, also series masterlist coming soon. give me ideas on what you want to see, your wishes are my command

(do not copy or plagiarize, original work)

You haven’t seen Drew since the coffee shop. No texts. No calls. No accidental likes on Instagram stories. Just that strange little moment—quiet, simple, unexpected—followed by nothing but silence. A silence you didn’t have time to question, at least not out loud.

Work swept you under fast. One interview turned into five, turned into twelve. There were red eyes and red carpets, layovers that bled into morning glam, emails marked urgent that weren’t, and endless voice notes from your assistant reminding you to drink water or, God forbid, actually sit down and eat. You’ve been floating from event to event, mic in hand, pretending the whirlwind is normal.

And maybe it is. Maybe this is just what success feels like when it comes all at once.

But somewhere in the back of your mind—between camera flashes and client lists—you still think about that coffee. The way his hand brushed yours when he reached for the lid. The way he looked at you like you were someone worth pausing for. Not performing for. Just… seeing.

You never followed up. Neither did he. So maybe that’s where it ends.

Until now.

You’re back on the red carpet, badge clipped, mic wired, heels biting into the carpet just enough to remind you to stand tall. Another night. Another venue. Another lineup of stars and stylists and agents crowding every inch of the step-and-repeat. Ironically enough, for a Drew Starkey interview. Even when you can't make time to see him personally the universe has a funny way of putting you two together. Meant to be? who knows.

You try not to think too hard about it—don’t give it weight. You’re here to work. You’re here to do your job. Not to chase the what-ifs of a man who left your texts untyped and your mind way too occupied on nights when you should’ve been sleeping.

Still, your fingers tighten around the mic just slightly as you read down the list of arrivals. Tom Blyth is slotted ahead of Drew. You know Tom. He’s warm, low-maintenance, the kind of actor who gives thoughtful answers and makes your job easy. You ground yourself in that—small wins. Familiar rhythms.

Your team gives you the signal, and you step forward into the chaos of flashbulbs and pre-show nerves. The cameras sweep toward you and Tom as he arrives, his publicist giving you a nod. You settle into the interview, asking your usual questions—questions you could probably recite in your sleep by now. He smiles, laughs, says something about the director’s process. You nod, respond, push the conversation where it needs to go. It’s smooth. Effortless. Just how it’s supposed to be.

Your heels click into place on the press line, the carpet beneath you plush but just unstable enough to remind you you’re balancing on borrowed time—and four inches of designer expectation. The noise is a hum—paparazzi flashes, producers shouting cues, the murmur of industry air kisses and small talk no one really means.

Then you see him.

Tom Blyth moves through the crowd like it’s parting for him on instinct. All charm and movie-star ease, dressed in something sharp and tailored, the kind of suit that looks effortless but costs more than your entire monthly invoice report. The lapels lie just right, the fabric catching the camera flashes like it knows it’s being watched. He carries himself like someone who’s used to being looked at—and knows exactly what to do with that attention.

When he stops in front of you, the grin he offers is the kind you feel—not just see. It’s practiced, yes, but not fake. It lands with just enough weight to leave a mark.

You hold your mic steady and smile back, but the energy shifts the second he opens his mouth.

“Well, well,” he says as he stops in front of you, eyeing your mic, then your face, “didn’t expect to see the best-dressed person here holding the microphone. Shouldn’t you be on this side with the rest of us?”

You smile, professional but just shy of bashful. “Careful, Tom. Keep sweet-talking me like that and I might start charging for compliments.”

“Go ahead,” he says, laughing. “As long as you let me expense it under ‘networking.’”

He winks, and you try not to let your shoulders tense under the cameras. “Let’s talk about the film, yeah? You’ve worked with some heavy hitters this year. What drew you to this script?”

He leans in slightly, enough for you to catch a trace of his cologne—something warm, amber, expensive. “Besides the fact that it gave me a reason to show up and see you again?” He pauses, grin widening. “I liked how human it felt. Honest. Flawed. I’ve been chasing those kinds of roles lately. But this one hit different.”

You nod, genuinely engaged, your mic lifting instinctively. “Do you think audiences are ready to see you in something that vulnerable? Or do you still like being everyone’s golden boy?”

“Depends,” he says. “Would you still like me if I wasn’t?”

Before you can even come up with a reply—witty or otherwise—a voice cuts through the noise, low and unmistakably familiar.

“Now he’s trying to steal my favorite interviewer.”

You turn.

Drew stands just behind Tom, casual but calculated, hands in his pockets, eyes trained on you like he’s trying to read the punchline before you’ve even delivered it.

Tom steps back half an inch, amusement flashing across his face. “Well, didn’t know I was stepping on any toes.”

“Not toes. Just territory.” Drew’s tone is light, but the message is there, coded in the way his eyes flick to you, then back to Tom like a reflex.

Tom glances between the two of you, catching it. “Didn’t mean to step on anything,” he says, chuckling under his breath. “Or anyone.”

You force a smile—tight, professional—and tilt the mic toward Drew without looking directly at him. “We’re all friends here. Right?”

“Sure we are,” Drew murmurs, eyes still on you. He doesn’t blink when you finally meet his gaze. He just lifts one brow slightly, like he knows something you don’t want to admit out loud.

Tom excuses himself down the line, sensing the shift, and you don’t blame him. The moment he walks away, the noise around you fades into a blur. Your crew’s still watching. Cameras still pointed. But all you feel is him.

Then he leans in closer—like he’s adjusting something on his suit, like he’s letting you fix his mic—but his mouth is right by your ear.

“Long week?” he asks, voice low.

Your breath catches before you can stop it. You don’t turn to face him, just nod slightly, lips pressed together. “Busy.”

“Mm,” he hums. “Too busy for coffee, huh? Maybe dinner works better instead.”

You slightly hold your mouth agape with a surprised smile decorates your face. You swallow hard. He’s not wrong.

“Sure, it that will make it up to you.”

"How about tonight? If you’re not busy after the premiere.”

You pause. Then add— Then: “There's not a such thing as 'too busy'. It’s a date, then.”

The words fall out softer than you expect, almost natural, and the moment they land, both of you flinch—just a little.

“Promise.”

That gets him.

He doesn’t smile—but something in his expression shifts. Softens. You feel the shift in his body before you see it—his shoulders ease, but the corner of his mouth twitches like he’s forcing stillness. He doesn’t smile, not exactly, but something in his face unlocks. Like your words knocked the wind out of him for half a second.

And then—

You turn your head. Just slightly. Just enough for your mouth to hover where his had been.

“Tell me something,” you whisper, breath warm against his skin. “Are you the jealous type?”

He goes still. Doesn’t speak. Doesn’t blink. Just still.

One beat. Two.

And suddenly it’s like everyone around you vanishes. The press. The handlers. Even the cameras seem quieter. Because anyone watching now sees it—the way his hand flexes at his side. The way your smile lifts just barely, slow and knowing. The air between you buzzes, hot and thick and impossible to ignore.

Then you smile for the camera—tight, sweet, unreadable. “We’re rolling, Starkey. You ready?”

He pulls back, expression unreadable. “Always.”

You lift the mic, voice smooth. “Drew Starkey, star of tonight’s premiere, joining us now…”

And just like that, you fall back into the rhythm. But your pulse is nowhere near calm. And neither is he.

And just like that, you’re back on script—two professionals, poised and polished.

But your pulse is nowhere near calm.

And his? His jaw ticks once. His eyes don’t leave you.

But this is anything but far from over.

[sturniololuvz]

Could you do one where the triplets younger sister (reader) is also famous but not because of her brothers but her own twitch and YouTube accounts and the boys interupt her stream and chat is suprised because they didn't know reader knows the triplets

“Wait… You’re a Sturniolo?!”

Y/N adjusted her headset, rolling her shoulders as she booted up her Twitch stream. Her 300k followers had been waiting all week for her to go live again, and tonight was a mix of chaotic Minecraft, bad snacks, and even worse jokes.

The chat was already blowing up before she could say anything.

user824: SHE’S LIVE SHE’S LIVE

teaparty666: MY COMFORT STREAMER

koolkat33: aaaa y/n i missed u

itsray: what snacks tonight queen?

“Hi guys,” she smiled, biting into a gummy worm. “Hope everyone’s hydrated. I’m in a great mood and probably about to ruin a perfectly fine server with lava. Let’s gooo.”

She was a couple of rounds in — mid-rant about why spruce wood was superior — when her door creaked open behind her.

She froze. Blinked. Looked at chat.

fizzyfriday: uh who’s at your door

y/nblushfan: i saw that

anonymousfan38: ghost?

And then—

“Yo,” a familiar Boston-accented voice echoed off camera. “You seen my charger?”

Y/N whipped her head around. “Chris, I’m streaming—!”

“What? Oh. My bad,” he shrugged, walking right into frame.

Chat exploded.

MINIVAN666: IS THAT…

simplynick: HOLD ON

sturnstan123: IS THAT CHRIS STURNIOLO??

xXgoblincoreXx: NO WAY

bee.tv: wait wait wait BACK UP YOU KNOW THE TRIPLETS??

And then—

“Yo, Y/N, you got pretzels?”

Nick.

Matt trailed in behind him with a half-eaten bag of Goldfish. “Why is everyone in your chat yelling?”

Y/N stared into the camera, wide-eyed, headset still half-crooked. “I can explain.”

chat: EXPLAIN RIGHT NOW

chat: YOU’RE RELATED???

chat: TRIPLETS. TRIPLETS. TRIPLETS.

Chris leaned over her chair. “You never told them you were our little sister?”

“Because I wanted to be known for me, not because I’m related to you clowns,” she hissed through a laugh.

Matt looked genuinely offended. “Wow.”

Nick nodded. “Respect.”

Chris grinned at the camera. “Well, she’s still a pain in the ass, but she’s the most talented one in the house. So… sub or else.”

Y/N shoved him. “GET OUT.”

The boys eventually left (after stealing more snacks), and she turned back to her mic, face pink and flustered.

“…So yeah. Surprise. I’m a Sturniolo.”

chat: LMAOOOOOOO

chat: plot twist of the year

chat: i liked you BEFORE I KNEW THAT!!

chat: ok but you carried that whole server anyway

She smiled softly.

“Still me. Just with more chaotic brothers than you knew about.”

⸻

[dippindaz]

Relationship HCs

Decided I wanted to go back to my roots and write some horror characters :) I hope you all enjoy <3

Warnings: Controlling/manipulative behaviors, toxic dynamics, mentions of death and violence (not major character, mentions of stalking,

Characters Included: Brahms, Thomas Hewitt, Danny "Jed" Olsen, Michael Myers, Billy Loomis, Stu Marcher.

Brahms Heelshire

Extremely clingy and possessive. Brahms doesn’t just want you around—he needs you. You’re his entire world, and he expects to be yours too.

Jealous of any attention you give others, even innocuous stuff like a friendly conversation with the delivery boy. He’ll sulk, break something, or go quiet behind the walls until you “apologize.”

Strict routines and rules—he expects you to read to him, cook for him, and follow his schedule. But over time, you realize he also follows a version of your schedule. He memorizes everything about your habits.

Childlike tendencies, especially emotionally. He doesn’t always know how to express feelings beyond tantrums or intense stares, but he genuinely adores you in the only way he knows how.

Brahms is touch-starved. He clings in his sleep, always wants to hold hands or sit close, and gets visibly upset when you pull away—even if it’s just for a second.

Homebody couple life. He doesn’t want you to leave the estate—ever. If he has to let you go somewhere, expect him to be freaking out the entire time you're gone and either be extra clingy when you get back or extra closed-off.

Thomas Hewitt

Incredibly protective. Once he considers you his, you’re under constant protection. Anyone who even looks at you the wrong way… doesn’t look at anything again.

Thomas expresses affection through his actions. He’s nonverbal, but he’ll bring you things he thinks you’ll like—bones, odd trinkets, handmade gifts—and looks to you for approval afterward.

He likes to be close, leans into you for comfort, and has a calming presence despite everything. Being held by him feels safe in a strange, primal way.

Listen, Thomas is really a big baby. If you cry or raise your voice, he panics and tries to fix it. Expect him to bring you comfort items, mimic your expressions to show empathy, or even get Mama to help. He hates when you're upset, whether with him or not.

Your life is domestic, in it's own weird way. You both settle into a routine that’s grotesque on the outside but oddly comforting once you adjust. He likes when you hum while you work.

Loyal to death. Once you’re his, he’ll never let go. Even the thought of losing you is enough to send him into a spiral of rage or grief.

Danny “Jed” Olsen

Flirty, chaotic, and intense. Danny is the kind of guy who flirts like it's a game but is dead serious about you underneath the teasing.

Danny loves making you squirm. He’ll joke about stalking you (and probably did before you got together. Let's be real, he probably still does), sends you cryptic texts from across the room, or whisper twisted things just to see your reaction.

Photos of you everywhere. Some are sweet, some are… definitely not. He documents your relationship obsessively—whether it’s a romantic moment or a vulnerable one.

He's got a dark sense of humor and hopefully you do too. He loves when you match his energy, but if you don’t, he’ll tone it down just enough to keep you from leaving—then push again when he’s feeling brave.

Hyper-focused on you. He watches your every move, knows your patterns, your tells, your fears. It’s equal parts seductive and terrifying how well he reads you.

Deep down, he hopes you’ll love not just the charming mask he puts on, but the messed-up parts too. If you do? You’ve got his loyalty for life—even if it’s a dangerous one.

Michael Myers

Utterly silent but always watching. You never really know where Michael is, but you always feel him—whether it’s a shadow behind the curtain or a shape across the street. He watches you constantly, but not always maliciously—sometimes just… fascinated.

Very protective. If anyone threatens you? They're gone. No warning. No trace. He doesn’t tolerate any danger near you—not even perceived danger.

Quality time is his love language (If you can even call it that). He doesn’t speak or do traditional affection, but he’ll leave you items (stolen or not), stand guard outside your house, or silently sit nearby when you're upset.

Emotionally unreadable—but not emotionless. Over time, you can tell when he’s calm, angry, or curious. It’s all in the tilt of his head, the speed of his breathing, the way he stands just a little closer.

Michael follows you like a shadow. Even when he’s not visible, he’s nearby. If you try to leave him, he will follow. He’s never going to let you go—but somehow, it feels more like devotion than captivity.

Physical comfort is rare but intense. When he finally touches you(outside of sexual touches)—gently brushing your hair back, letting his hand linger—it’s deliberate and heavy with meaning. He doesn't do anything halfway.

Billy Loomis

Hot-and-cold as fuck. One moment, he’s magnetic, whispering sweet nothings like you’re the only person in the world. The next? Cold, distant, suspicious. You’re always on your toes.

Emotionally manipulative, but not always on purpose. He knows how to make you feel guilty, even when you haven't done anything. Sometimes it's calculated. Sometimes it's just because he’s afraid you’ll leave.

Billy is secretive. He hides things constantly but loses his mind if you do. If you even look at someone else for too long, expect a quiet but tense confrontation later.

He craves your trust but doesn’t trust you. He wants you to love him unconditionally—but doesn't believe you actually could if you "knew everything." This makes him spiral, often.

He fantasizes about you being his ride-or-die, someone who won’t just accept the killer side of him, but maybe even join it. The idea of you being his ride-or-die is thrilling for him.

Weirdly romantic in the rare quiet moments. He’ll run his fingers through your hair, kiss your wrist, stare at you like he’s memorizing you. He means it. He just doesn’t know how to keep it.

Stu Macher

Clingy and codependent. Stu needs constant attention. He’s like a puppy crossed with a sociopath—needing affection one minute, giggling over murder the next.

Stu always has his hands on you, always exaggerating his emotions to get a reaction—whether that’s “fake dying” for kisses or pouting until you reassure him.

He will do literally anything to impress you. He’s impulsive and easily influenced, especially by Billy—but if you told him to ditch murder and just watch movies with you forever, he’d probably try.

Terrified of abandonment. He plays things off like a joke, but the thought of losing you breaks him. He’d cry, beg, or go completely unhinged trying to keep you.

Stu over-shares everything. He couldn't keep a secret from you even if he was trying. He’ll ramble about kills, about plans, about what he wants to do to people who “looked at you funny.” It’s weirdly honest—he has no filter with you.

Loves being called your boyfriend. Like, loves it. He’ll say it a dozen times a day and gets all smug if you say it in public. Being yours is his favorite identity.

[mylovesstuffs]

OT13 reaction to an older s/o

Request: Hi, Celeste! Just gotta say, it's been months of me following you, and I absolutely live for your content! 💜 I just came across your "Younger SO" for SVT, and I was wondering if you can do the opposite: SVT with an older SO? Thank you for considering!

A/N: Whether it’s a few months or a few years, these boys would absolutely thrive with a ‘noona’ s/o who has a little extra life experience + I think they're very cool with both younger and older s/o. Also, hi hi!! Tysm, I’m so happy you enjoy the content and stuck around this long.

Seungcheol: He is a leader with so many members to handle, so being with someone who’s just a bit older, gives him a sense of calm. Loves when you guide him through decisions or offer wisdom, but also gets adorably sulky when you tease him for being younger. “I’m still oppa in this house,” he’ll say while reaching for your hand in public.

Jeonghan: You being older? He’s using it. Teasing you? Constant. “You should take care of me~” He lives for the dynamic. Always playing it up, but deep down he respects the maturity and insight you bring to the relationship. Plus, he finds older s/o's incredibly attractive; something about the confidence and experience just does it for him.

Joshua: The “age is just a number” kind of guy [ahem, que that fancall]. He’d love having deeper, mature conversations and would appreciate the emotional intelligence you bring. He’s probably calling you “baby” just to balance the dynamic a bit, but when things get hard, your ability to stay grounded makes him love you even more.

Jun: I don't think he actually doesn’t notice the age gap. You’re older? Oh. Cool. Jun is too much of a vibes/personality-first person to really care. He’s charmed by your poise, but also still drags you into pillow fights. If anyone points it out, he’ll just blink and say, “So?” Because to him, your soul feels like it matches his.

Hoshi: He jokes that you’re “the boss” in the relationship, but he adores it. He’s all about affectionate teasing, spontaneous affection, and showing off for you. He also really wants to impress you and is always a little extra excited when you praise or encourage him. You bring out the more grounded side of him without dulling his sparkle.

Wonwoo: He’s so so soft for someone who brings emotional clarity and maturity into his life. He’s not the type to care about age gaps at all, but he’ll note how soothing it is to be with someone who has a stable energy. Will 100% ask for book recommendations and sit with you in peaceful silence like it’s love language gold.

Woozi: You being older makes him feel a little relieved, he doesn’t have to over-explain his workaholic tendencies or emotional blocks. He values how self-aware you are, and he absorbs your perspectives like a sponge. Plus, he finds the way you handle conflict so hot. If anyone comments on the age thing, he gives them the death glare.

Dokyeom: He’s all giggles and heart eyes, older s/o or not, but he definitely benefits from your emotional maturity. When he gets overwhelmed, you know how to help him reset. He’ll call you “Noona~” in the most singsong way, but still treat you with total love, babying and respect.

Mingyu: Will still insist he can carry all the groceries himself. He’s a bit extra about wanting to prove himself, especially if you’re accomplished or confident. Loves it when you guide him but also wants to be the one taking care of you. Over time, he realizes you don’t need “taking care of,” and starts just enjoying how easy it is to be himself around you.

Minghao: Old soul meets old soul 😌😂 He goes the best with someone older anyway. He’s all about mutual growth, and an older s/o is often more emotionally steady, which suits him perfectly. He appreciates the lack of drama and the introspective conversations you bring. He’d never flaunt the age gap, but he would brag about you non-stop.

Seungkwan: At first, he might be shy or overthink things, wondering if he’s “enough” for you. But once he’s reassured, he’s in. Loves having someone who can match his emotions but handle them a bit more maturely. You make him feel secure and loved, which is everything he really needs.

Vernon: To Vernon, age doesn’t equal power; energy does. If you match his energy and give him space to be himself, he’s head over heels. He’ll appreciate that you’ve probably figured yourself out more, and he finds your confidence very attractive. Bonus: he never forgets your coffee order or how you take your ramen.

Dino: He loves older s/o's but can get a little flustered about proving he’s mature enough. You’re a source of motivation for him, so he wants to meet your standards and show you he’s grown. Will occasionally pout if you “Noona” him, but secretly loves it. Your stability + his ambition = power couple.

[dolli3fication]

BETWEEN TWO WORLDS

Reader x LIN LIE (IRONFIST) Summary : You discover that your classmate, Lin Lie, was the sworn protector of K’un Lun. The IRONFIST ! This is part 1, this is unedited and super rushed, I'll probably edit it when I have the time to. Note: The reader is a fun and silly girl, she's hectic as fuck !!

4.4k words Warning: this is heavily unedited, like it probably doesn't make any sense but hey it is what it is Part 2 here?..(not done)

For the longest you’ve known, Lin Lie, an average heighted asian man who had a seemingly flawless face that framed the most recognisable features on his face perfectly but also sporting an unrelenting poker face, refined physique, was just an ordinary classmate of yours. ..Or so you thought. Since the beginning of college, he didn’t quite belong to your world. You were buried in textbooks and focused on deadlines. Far too consumed in your own ambitions. 

Sure, earlier in the semester, you were paired up with Lie in business class. You thought he was cute, but the two of you interacted little to none. Only cooperating in certain parts of the assessment task. To say the least, you never gave much of a thought to knowing him any better. You noticed that he kept to himself majority of the time, turning up half beat to a lecture. Oddly enough, sometimes disappearing mid-way through the lesson, and it was always coincidentally when danger struck somewhere near. There were instances where he turned up with sweat beading down his forehead, nose flaring while he struggled to catch his breath. Awkwardly dragging himself back to his seat while every pair of eyes set on him. It was a regular occurrence for Lie to restlessly face flat on the lecture table from his usual morning to midday charades, and you felt bad. You slipped a sticky note onto his table. Your number scribbled on it and a small note, offering to do a study session with him. Just in case he needed help with classwork or, you know, saving his Grades. He was really falling behind with all the long term disappearance acts he’s been pulling. That’s the least you could do for him. But Lie, of course, known for his distant manner, never called. Well, at least you tried. ꒰꒰꒰꒰꒰꒰   ʚ・ ୨୧・ ɞ    ꒱꒱꒱꒱꒱꒱ here you were, sitting in a cafe. It was finals season, and wasting time wasn’t an option. Your chin rested on your left palm as you mindlessly scroll through the pdfs that your professor had uploaded. You were following through a scaffold and practicing mock questions as preparation for your business course finals. You spent a solid chunk refining your words, organising your flash cards and ordering your 5th Iced latte. It was the only source of fuel that kept you conscious.

You frowned slightly, your thoughts drifting to Lie. People in your lecture classes would’ve killed to get even a sliver of your attention, yet he couldn’t be bothered to show up. An exasperated sigh left your lips as you glanced down at your table. Laptop open, papers and notes scattered everywhere. It was midday, you’d spent way too much time staring at a screen, and your eyes had started to strain. You never intended to chase the path of perfection. The golden road lined with success and stability. Instead, you pushed yourself for one reason.. survival. With the cost of living rising and inflation climbing higher each year, you chose burnout now over financial struggle later. Better to suffer through midterms today than to face an empty wallet tomorrow. Hell, you won’t be able to afford the sufficient amount to pay the mortgage of your dream home. And as if life wanted to drive that point home, the wind outside suddenly shifted.

Not a breeze , a shove. The cafe door creaked, then burst open with a loud bang, sending napkins and dry leaves tumbling in like it was crashing a party. A thick wave of dust followed, swallowing the front half of the cafe in a gritty haze. Your flashcards took flight and someone in the back yelped as their muffin took flight.

You stared, deadpan.

 As the dust finally settled, you let out a weak cough, swiping your hand in front of your face to shoo away the choking cloud. When the air cleared, the scene outside took a darker turn. Figures…shadowed and hulkling, loomed around the debris. Before you could even process it, the mist parted, and from its depths emerged creatures with twisted forms, low growls vibrating through the air. You stood there for god knows how long, still processing the situation before you. Then it clicked.

You were cooked. Real cooked. One of the hideous creatures dropped to all fours, and out of every customer, it was charging straight at you. “WHAT THE FUUUCK?!-”Time had paused, and you had 3 options in mind. A. Grab all your valuables then sprint. still salvageable... unless I die before the deadline. B. Run and leave everything behind. Well.. You ignored option B. you would rather die than fail. Or. C. Pause, stare at the disaster, then scream internally as you realise you have no idea how to survive this. ..you resorted to the worst option outside of those 3. Others ran, but you did the unthinkable. In the span of 5 nanoseconds, your body moved before your brain could process it. With adrenaline pumping through you, you grabbed your laptop and hurled it straight at the creature. It hit with a sickening thud, and, unsurprisingly, did jack shit. The creature stopped, just inches away, and stared at you. caught between panic and pure disbelief. “My..bad? hahah..”  you let out a nervous chuckle.

That wasn’t the plan. but it definitely bought you time for a wake up call. Its beady green eyes locked onto you, confusion flickering across its face as you slowly and awkwardly took a cautious step back, gripping your laptop like some kind of shield, a fake, nervous grin plastered on your face. The creature didn’t seem impressed. Its gaze hardened, and you knew right then, it was time for you to dip. You turned toward the open entrance and bolted, not daring to look back. Your breathing was ragged, your chest tight, you were terrified. Leaping over chunks of debris and stumbling every few steps, you somehow kept going, feeling like a damn all-star track star. You’d never run a marathon in your life, and honestly? You didn’t think you had it in you to run this fast. Okay! So….you managed to make yourself dinner. “FUKC FUCKUFCUKC FUCK, FUCK FUCK FYUCK FUCK-” You kept repeating the same words in your head like a broken record, brain spiraling as your legs kept moving on autopilot. You sprinted past your local bakery, your old tutoring spot where you used to wrangle elementary kids, and dashed right through the middle of someone’s makeout session. Even made another three laps around the same street your first boyfriend dumped you on as the growls behind you grew louder, joined by the unmistakable army of thundering feet pounding the ground. ꒰꒰꒰꒰꒰꒰   ʚ・ ୨୧・ ɞ    ꒱꒱꒱꒱꒱꒱

Luckily, you managed to outrun a pack of blood thirsty demons and stumbled across a dead silent alleyway. You definitely earned a six pack. you could feel it, tight, trembling, and probably gone in five minutes. Your palms were sweaty, but they managed to hold a firm grip on the metal device. You managed to grab at least the most important thing for your exam, and somehow, it was left unscathed by the debris. 

And YESSSS ! You were praising the lord from above. You planned to study a little more of the content once it was safe to say, or , after all of this was over. You always figured something weird would happen eventually in the city, it was the centre point of disasters. heroes crashing through buildings, weird creatures showing up, temporal energy disturbance,  the usual bullshit. But did it really have to happen right before finals? You were starting to think the bad karma from cheating on your first exams was finally catching up to you. You lay against the cold wall, slumping down onto the dirty pavement. Your legs felt like jelly, still rattled from the mess you somehow outran. Your nose flared as you fought to steady your breath, but it felt like a weight was crushing your chest. After the explosion, you’d inhaled way too much dust, and then, of course, you ran five laps around the city for good measure. A violent cough escaped you, the world around you overstimulated, like everything was too much at once. You were so confident that you were safe, up until this agitating snarl bestows upon your ears. Oh.Oh!One of those fuckers caught up. Your body was still laying against the wall restlessly while your head slowly twisted to the direction of your demise. Your eyes twitched, grip tightening around the cold metal. You tried to push yourself up, but your body wasn’t having it, you hadn’t even caught your breath from that running spree. Your jeans dragged against the filthy pavement as you scrambled to crawl away, hands rowing you backwards with little success.

But your eyes stayed locked.

Locked on those bright green ones. Your mouth hung open as your breathing quickened, you were shaking. The adrenaline had finally worn off, and now the fear really hit. You tried to push yourself away, but your body wouldn’t budge. Fingernails scraped against the pavement, the constant friction making them feel sharper, raw, like even your fingers were desperate to escape. There was truly no way out. So you had one big move… Talking it out! It was stupid, but worth the shot, but you were truly in a position with no other option than executing an experimental idea. “H-hey! You understand a little bit of English, right? o-or..no…..” You tripped over your words, heart pounding like a drumline in your ears.

You hoped, you begged that the creature had even a shred of understanding. The creature blinked a few times. “I’m going to assume that blink was yes in morse code..” you mumbled to yourself “I mean, look, I can’t be the best meal here, right??..” You inhaled then exhaled. Then, you started talking. “There’s this super meaty guy in my lecture class you would definitely buss down- ” (You were referring to Lin lie) It roared at you. Loud and final. Before you could even finish, the creature lunged at you. Your heart skipped a beat. “JUSTHEARMEOUTOKAYPELASEEPE-.  ” You shut your eyes tight, bracing for the worst. Its warm breath hovered disgustingly close to your face… It truly was the end, you were NOT reaching your final form as a super doctor lawyer you urged yourself to be. Until. SHRRK.With a heavy golden hit, the creature flew across the alleyway.HALLELUJAH YOU WERE SAVED! By a hot guy?...꒰꒰꒰꒰꒰꒰   ʚ・ ୨୧・ ɞ    ꒱꒱꒱꒱꒱꒱You cracked open one eye to see a glowing fist, burning with victory. Then, your gaze slid down to the smooth, sculpted muscles. The hero before you stood tall and confident, radiating an intimidating aura. His suit, professionally crafted and rich in green and gold, shimmered with a dragon symbol embedded across his chest. It was tailored perfectly to his ripped form. He stood there, fist blazing in gold.

Without a word, the masked hero turned toward the creature, which screeched in fury.

In the blink of an eye, he grabbed it by the chin, slamming its face into the pavement. It disintegrated into nothing but red dust. He turned to you, a faint flinch passing over him. His yellow mask creased along the brow, as if he knew you. You could barely notice the flinch, your mind was too busy short-circuiting at the fact that the immortal Ironfist was standing right in front of you. He paused, eyes narrowing slightly behind the mask. "Not many survive a run-in with those things. You got a name, or should I just call you 'lucky'?" You shook your head, clearly mortified by how ridiculous the whole situation had turned out. “Look…this was clearly not on my schedule OKAY?!.” Ironfist raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth quirking up in an almost amused smirk. “Well, you’re still breathing, so I’d say you’re doing better than most.” You’d always imagined meeting a big shot hero in your life, but of course, it had to happen at the most embarrassing moment possible. You cringed, replaying all the ridiculous stunts you’d pulled just to survive, fully aware he’d probably seen every awkward move. You let out a shaky breath, attempting to stand a little taller despite the situation. “hahaHAHah,,Yeah, well... breathing's a start.” It was obvious you were shaky, and the last thing you needed was to trip over your own feet in front of him. You’d seen the old Ironfist in action, but HIM? He was something else. You’d heard whispers of the current Ironfist’s feats, but nothing prepared you for the reality. And DAMMN, you were technically standing before a Greek god. Your hand pressed against the wall, the only thing keeping you from crumpling to the ground. You were still shaken, your body a mess of nerves, and for some reason, you were still clutching your laptop like it held the key to your survival. A wince tugged at your face as discomfort set in, your fingers digging into your own skin, a nervous habit you couldn't shake. "Hey, easy there. You’re safe now, alright?" He stepped forward, offering a steady hand, his voice low but reassuring. "You did good." He laid a hand on your back to keep you from falling, your body still tense, but in his touch… something shifted, and you felt yourself begin to melt. You were cushioned in his arms, awkwardly but comfortably laying in them. He shifted you a little, swiftly carrying you with ease in his arms.His arms felt like stone, and,LORD HAVE MERCYYY you couldn’t help but let out a shaky breath, your lips trembling as a flush of heat spread across your face. "You know, I don’t usually make it a habit to carry people around like this," he said with a small chuckle. "But, it’s a nice change from launching out fists.." Was he indicating you to be the first? Oh yes he was… Lin li- Ironfist, saw you up close. He felt your heartbeat against his chest, soft and fast. You could only laugh, quickly darting your eyes away from his gaze. "Well... uhmmm, I’ve technically never been held like this before… so, I guess that cancels it out!"

A goofy smile tugged at your lips, and no matter how hard you tried, the fangirl inside you couldn’t be kept under control. god, you felt your heart being toyed. You squeaked as you felt his breath inch closer. You kept your hands firmly to yourself. Heat rushed to your face, you hadn’t meant to react like this. You stayed silent, eyes shut tight. No… this was way too close for comfort. Especially with someone as ridiculously built as him.

“You alright?” he asked, still carrying you with zero effort as the sounds of the chaos faded behind. “You’re kinda... making faces.”

“WOO… is it me or..haha…hHAGSH - it’s getting hot in here?” you blurted, blinking wildly as your brain failed to regulate literally anything.

He glanced down at you. “Pretty sure the fire’s a few blocks back.”

“Right, yeah, no, I meant like..like body heat! Not weird heat. Not your body heat. Not that you're weird..oh my god, I’m gonna stop talking.”

“…Are you sure you didn’t inhale something?”

“I inhaled like... microfibres of… uh… dust… but- I DON'T KNOW OKAY?!” you exploded, throwing your head back dramatically in his arms.

He huffed a laugh, “You’re definitely not injured. Delirious, maybe.”

You peeked through your fingers. “This isn’t even my final form. I get worse under pressure.”

“Great,” he said dryly, but his smirk gave him away. “Can’t wait.” The two of you were deep in the alley, and he cleared his throat, shifting his stance to stabilize himself. His bandaged fingers tightened their grip on you. 

“Hey, doll,” he said, his voice steady, “mind holding on tight?” …. ..DOLL??

“Huh? HUAH???” you blurted, eyes wide in surprise.

Without waiting for a response, he leaped up the wall, his movements fluid as he carried you effortlessly to the top of the rooftop. He leaped from one roof to another, and you had a clear view of the city below. But you could barely focus on it - your stomach was dropping, your screams drowned out by the rush of the wind. Your hair whipped violently around you, exposing every bit of fear etched on your face. “OHSHOSHIST OH SHIT OHSHIT OH SHIT!” you screamed, kicking your legs like it would somehow slow gravity down.

Ironfist didn’t even flinch as he soared over another gap. “You always this dramatic or is this a special occasion?”

“THIS IS ME BEING REALISTIC!” you shrieked as a pigeon flew past your face like a missile. “WE’RE IN THE AIR, THERE ARE NO SEATBELTS, I AM NOT OKAY!”

“Well, technically, I’m your seatbelt,” he said, tightening his grip around you with one arm while aiming for the next rooftop. “So… click.”

“THAT’S NOT HOW SEATBELTS WORK!!.” For a moment, he stayed quiet. Poor guy, doing his duty as the protector of Ku’n Lun and New York, while you screamed your heart out into his chest. An idea sparked up. He spared you a glance mid-jump. “So, uh... what’s your favorite food?”

“WH- WHAT?!” you yelled, confused by the sudden switch.

“You heard me. What’s it gonna be? Pizza? Ramen?”

“I- I- SUSHI??”

“Hm.” he nodded approvingly, twisting mid-air before landing again with a graceful thud. “You look like a spicy tuna kinda girl.” “NOILIKESMOKEDSALMONBETTER- UAGSJ OH MY GOD!” you yelled, but despite yourself, you couldn't help but notice that his voice had actually calmed your nerves a little. ꒰꒰꒰꒰꒰꒰   ʚ・ ୨୧・ ɞ    ꒱꒱꒱꒱꒱꒱ Another leap down to the ground- this one was longer. You could barely scream, too overwhelmed by the rush of adrenaline and fear. Your face was buried against his chest, hands clutching the golden dragon emblem on his armor like it was the only thing keeping you grounded. He landed safely, the soles of his boots crunching against the broken pavement. The force of the drop vibrated up through your legs, but you were still buried in his chest, hands clenched tightly around the golden dragon emblem on his suit.

“Uuhham… it’s over, right?” you mumbled, your voice muffled against him.

Lin Lie tilted his head slightly, glancing down at you with a hint of amusement in his eyes. “You tell me. Still breathing?”

You didn’t answer right away. Mostly because you weren’t sure if you were. Or if you’d ever breathe normally again after that kind of trauma-powered cardio.

“I think my soul left my body somewhere up there,” you murmured, your face still smushed into his chest.

Ironfist spotted his team. Several members of the agents of atlas  had already set up evacuation routes, ushering civilians from the burning buildings. Luna Snow was creating ice slides to help people escape more quickly, while Shang-Chi carried multiple people to safety. Meanwhile, White Fox moved through the area, her senses alert for any survivors still trapped. Ironfist, smiled awkwardly, you were still digged into his chest, so he slightly moved your head up with his stone hands. Ironfist..no,,lie smiled awkwardly. You were still buried against his chest, so with one gentle motion, he lifted your chin up slightly with his bandaged, stone-like fingers.

“Thought you needed a proper breather,” he said, his voice low, with just the faintest curve of a grin. You blinked at him like your brain had gone completely offline. Wide-eyed. Silent. Mouth slightly open. You were trying to form words, really, but all that came out was a soft, breathy noise somewhere between awe and disbelief.

It made him huff a small laugh, but even he seemed caught in the quiet tension that lingered between you both. He was close. Way too close. And despite the chaos still buzzing in the background,burning buildings, scattered debris, distant yelling, this moment felt... weirdly still.

“You good?” he asked after a beat, voice softer now.

You nodded slowly. “Y-yeah. Just, uh. also,your hands are really heavy….”

His mask raised a brow. “They’re reinforced with Chi.”

“Oh. Right. That makes sense,” you said quickly, eyes flicking everywhere but his face. “You know, for punching… things.”

A pause. “And walls,” you added. Another pause. “And definitely not people’s faces.” He gave you a dry look. “Definitely people’s faces.” Another beat passed. You laughed- too loud, too sudden. “HAHAHh..uhh…yes…haha… yeah, still definitely… like, um… weapon-grade.”

You nodded quickly, words spilling out. “I mean..well- they’d be, like, WHEWW, really good for… y’know… manhandling- ”

Silence.

You blinked. “I-I mean- not like that! I meant like, in a fighting way! Like… like holding people down- NO, WAIT- like criminals! Bad guys! Not, like, in a weird way- oh my god what am I saying.”

He stared.

You stared.

The air was suffocating.And then- he laughed.

Not a snort, not a quiet exhale, not the dry huff he’d been giving you before. A real, full laugh. Warm, rich, and completely unexpected. His head tilted back slightly as the sound came out, raw and genuine, cutting straight through the tension like sunlight breaking through thick smoke.

You froze.

Oh no.

Oh no.

He was laughing.

At you. Because of you. Or maybe just near you. But it was happening and your brain short-circuited immediately.

“I-I didn’t mean manhandle in, like, a weird way!” you insisted, hands flailing. “You just have really strong hands and I panicked and I- STOP LAUGHIGNGNGN!!”

He was doubled over slightly now, one hand on his knee, the other bracing himself against a crumbling wall. His mask couldn’t hide it anymore, you could hear the joy in his voice, the rare, honest kind of laugh that only slipped out when your guard was down.

Eventually, he straightened, still grinning . “God,” he said, voice breathless, “you are so weird.” You were weird, hopelessly, embarrassingly head over heels for him. So instead, you stared down at your shoes, muttering half-hearted curses under your breath, right up until his teammates shouted for him across the rubble. “You good to walk?” he asked, turning his body to Luna’s direction.

You hesitated. “Yeah. I think my legs got the memo.”

He gave a small nod, almost reluctant, and took a step back. “Stick with the evac crowd. You’re not exactly subtle.”

You stared at him for a moment before he headed to Luna’s direction, then let out a slow breath.

“…Stay safe?” you echoed under your breath. Your heart pounded with something you didn’t quite understand. ꒰꒰꒰꒰꒰꒰   ʚ・ ୨୧・ ɞ    ꒱꒱꒱꒱꒱꒱ He left you with the rest of the survivors while he attended to other matters. You were left in awe, overwhelmed by the experience. It was something you’d never forget, standing among the survivors, you spotted a few of your classmates. Surprisingly, most of them had made it out, considering many had been in the same cafe as you.

You returned to your college dorm, laptop still in hand. You set it down and collapsed onto the soft duvet, your body sinking into the comfort. With your hands stretched out, you stared at the ceiling, your mind racing, processing everything that had happened. You couldn’t stop overanalysing it all. how everything unfolded, how he had been there. You were starstruck, baffled, and his figure was burned into your memory. You could still trace it perfectly, every detail from the moment you were in his arms.. For a few days, your campus was lucky enough to stay mostly safe from the falling debris, so students were advised to stay inside. You spent most of the time rewriting your notes onto flashcards, feeling a small sense of accomplishment. 

But no matter how much you tried to focus, your mind kept drifting back to him. His arms had been pressed into yours, solid and reassuring. They were rough, yet somehow comforting, a strange sort of warmth. It wasn’t much, but it was rare- one of the few moments you could say you’d earned, and it lingered in your thoughts longer than you’d expected. You sighed, resting your head on the campus cafeteria table. Well, damn. Back to your usual routine. But today, you were a lot more distracted, tapping your pen absentmindedly. You found yourself doodling him in a small chibi style on your notes- your mind clearly somewhere else. You chuckled quietly to yourself, glancing at the little scribbles. Yeah, you probably looked crazy, but you couldn’t help it. Your headphones were plugged in, and you hardly noticed anything around you—until you felt a soft tap on your shoulder and a looming shadow overhead.

You raised an eyebrow, looking up at him. "Lie?"

He froze for a second, like he wasn’t sure if you’d recognize him. Then, he gave a small smile and shrugged, clearly a little unsure of himself. "Hey," he said, setting the crumpled plastic bag on the table. "Uh, sorry about the past few dayss. Things got... hectic."

You glanced down at the bag, then back at him. "Hectic? You don't say," you replied, not bothering to hide the sarcasm. "You’ve been kind of MIA." You frown.

He chuckled nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah, uh... been dealing with some stuff." He quickly changed the subject, trying to ease the awkwardness. "Anyway, I got you sushi. Thought you might be hungry." Lie set the bag down on the ground and turned to face you, his smile a little cheeky but with a hint of nervousness in his eyes.

"You still willing to lend me a hand with the upcoming exam?" he asked, his voice light but unsure.

You raised an eyebrow, leaning back in your chair. "Well..." You dragged the word out, giving him a teasing look. "Don’t ghost me this time, kay?"

Lie’s eyes widened for a second, then he let out a short laugh, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. "I swear, no ghosting," he said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. "I’ll be here, on time, all the way through. Promise." You might’ve flinched a little. That laugh, too familiar, the one you still couldn’t quite shake off.

You quickly pushed the thought away.Lie, oblivious, was still smiling. "So," he said, leaning in slightly, "what’s the verdict, teach?"

Something clicked..or you were going crazy…

Lie smiled directly at you, after all. Beneath the table, his hand flickered with gold specks. knowing that maybe, just maybe, things didn’t have to make sense to feel right.

Maybe he wasn’t your average guy at all..