#yet error keeps meeting people who can!

[ancha-aus]

RealAgeAU Drabble - Godly Intervention

You guys have voted and picked.

THE LORE!

So here we are. With lore :3

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Get in here @spotaus

*---------------*

Reaper glances around for a moment as he searches Outertale. Trying to not be seen by any universe goers. He should be somewhere here...

Reaper makes sure to stay out of sight. best to not spread panic when he is seen in public.

Luckily this shouldn't be too hard.

Error is very predictable with where he hangs out.

The only reason it took Reaper this long to do this is because he is busy and at work.

He floats to the next asteroid and spots the one he had been looking for. He goes over and sees Error just tugged away between the rocks as he works on something in his hands. it looks like a beanie but it is rather small. It is very unlike Error to make somethign the wrong size when he sets his mind to it.

Error doens't even look up "No i don't know where the paint drinker is."

Reaper crosses his arms as he floats next to him "I am not looking for Ink. I was looking for you."

Error hums and keeps looking at his knitting "Will congrats. you found me. I am busy."

Reaper leans against the rock "This is not something that can wait Error."

Error sitll does not looking up "I am not in the mood for more god lessons Reaper."

Reaper just watches the other and speaks "I know you are hiding him."

Error's hand spasms before he continues knitting. One of the loop is now not the right size but Error ignores it "I don't know what you are talking about."

Reaper sighs "Error I know your magic. I know you put a wall of some sort around an universe. And I have seen the code change in other universes as well. I know you moved stuff around. You aren't nearly as sneaky as you think you are." and he glares at him "Which is why i am here. You need to be more careful."

Error actually stops and shoots him a curious glance "What?"

Reaper just stares at him "You need to be more careful and clean your tracks better. Your magic is very obvious and it is bond to get noticed by other gods." he gives him a look "And Fate and Balance both will be deeply unhappy if they find out."Balance had not been happy when it became obvious that Dream, and so assumingly Nightmare, picked something outside her domain.

Fate hadn't minded much until it became clear that by their picks both of them could change the endings of certain stories.

Long and short of it. Both are deeply unhappy with the twins. But Dream had managed to find his inner punk and just told them he doens't see how that is his issue anymore as he doesn't work for or with either of them.

Again. Fate and Blance are very unhappy. Especially if they find out that Error of all gods knew where Ngihtmare has been hiding this whole time.

Error keeps frowning at him and looks to the side "How did you figure out?"

Reaper sighs as he rubs his neck "As i said. I felt your traces of magic all around. but i didn't know why. Then I saw a viewing window and could hear Killer shouting for Nightmare about dinner. I left before i learned more." plausable deniability. Makes it easier to lie to gods as long as a part of your answer is still the truth.

Error curses and nods "Fuck yeah. I will keep an eye on my windows... Not used to having people come by."

Reaper nods "You are lucky that Ink has the memory os a sponge."

Error snorts "please. If i was lucky he would ahve a working memory and i would havne't to remind him of the importance of destroying every few weeks... or our fucking truce for that matter." he glares into the distance.

Reaper sighs "Look. All I am saying. Stay safe and try to be more cautious. If Fate and Balance find out you are in trouble."

Error laughs "hah! Not like it matters. They hate me anyway."

reaper shoots him a serious look "They can seriously hurt you Error. your domain is connected to theirs."

Error shrugs "euh. They didn't care enough to stop the war between Ink and me. Why care about this?"

Reaper knows why. The two hate losing. and the twins finding a way to sneak out of their overwhelming domain? Yeah, they see that as losing.

Reaper sighs as he turns. He did what he came here for "I just figured you should know."

Error frowns "How much did you see? through the window?"

Reaper tilts his skull. strange but sure. "I saw nothing. just heard Killer calling for nightmare. I left right after that."

Error sighs in relieve and nods "good... Why are you even helping me?"

Reaper gives error a look before shrugging "You and Geno are friends." which is the loosest way to describe their situation and weird soul split kinda brother situation.

Error snorts loudly as he shakes his own skull "Your crush on him is hilarious by the way." he looks back to his knitting thing and starts to undo some of the work to get to the out of order loop. "And you call me obvious." Error snorts to himself.

Reaper glares at him "Just be less obvious." and he quickly leaves.

Sigh.

he will catch both of them for more god explanation and training later. He needs to do stuff.

*---------------*

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[backinmyphase]

Not your husband

Summary: You are going to marry the Satoru Gojo. A dream come true right? Well when he doesn't even show up to the meetings to arrange your marriage, it becomes clear that it's more a nightmare.

Or: Satoru Gojo doesn't even know how attached he will grow to his wife yet.

Pairing: Gojo x reader, 3040 words

Next part Masterlist

Sane Geto AU (I am an Angst writer, but not like Gege. Please excuse any errors in my writing)

The world of Jujutsu was never a world for you.

Born into a clan, which only saw your value in your technique. Born into a family, which only saw your mistakes. Born from a mother, who had the same problems but still resented you.

Born into a world full of curses but still being told you were the biggest of all.

"Don't daydream, you will make a bad impression. And you really can't afford that."

The woman in front of you isn't pleased. She isn't since she knew she wouldn't give life to boy.

It's hard as woman in a Jujutsu clan.

It's not about how your technique can help you, it's about how your technique could help your son at exorcising curses.

"Yes, mother."

She frowns as she looks at you. Displeased she fixes her posture a bit, signaling you to do the same. You obey.

"You can't afford to make any mistakes today. Just do as I told you. I can only hope you have learned anything."

As you nod you realize what all this means. The dress kimono you are wearing. The expensive tea that is ready to serve. The hairpin you have gotten from your mother, who did your hair today.

All of it becomes so real.

Your husband has been decided.

"You won't say anything, until you are being asked." The woman hissed. "And please keep a smile on your boring face, then it at least looks not so simple."

You never discovered your technique and what you could do with it. It wasn't easy. Knowing that everything you did would result in you being married of.

And as you sat here in this big room with your mother, you could only wonder.

Who would your husband be? Could it be someone who understood you?

Someone you could love?

As the door opened you saw your father who looked onto the ground as he spoke.

"They are here."

Your mother only nodded, as your father closed the door. Just a few minutes later the door was opened again.

And a beautiful woman stepped inside.

She smiled at your mother as she took a seat in front of her. But the smile was the same as the smile of your mother. And maybe the same of your own.

As she sat down on the opposite side, you served the tea. The best tea your clan could afford.

For a man that didn't seem to have come.

The woman gave an apologetic smile. "My sincere apologies, but my son... Well he is in a bit of a rebellious phase, which lead of him disappearing before this meeting."

Your mother's smile faded a bit. "Does he know of what importance this meeting is for our clans?"

The woman laughed. "Oh, he knows." She slightly eyed you before she spoke again. "He just doesn't care."

Silence flodded the room. It was like a cold hand slidded down your back as you realized.

"I hope the Gojo Clan will show more interest in our connection. We will be very disappointed if not." The smile of your mother was just as cold as the hand that seemed to choke you.

This was Mrs. Gojo. The mother of the strongest.

Gojo Satoru.

The one who seemingly stood above anyone. The one who jumped at every opportunity to mess with the higher ups.

Who will be your husband.

And he didn't even show up to meet you.

"Of course. He will learn." The woman sighed as she spared you a glance again. Then she smiled that smile again.

And you mirrored it.

"Your future husband isn't the easiest person." The woman sighed as she looked at you. "Even as a baby he knew what he wanted and how to get it."

Not knowing how to react you just nodded.

The woman laughed at that. "But no worries! Even though he is... Difficult, you will love him. He has that effect on people."

Your mouth dried up at the mention of love. How could this woman talk about love at the table your arranged marriage would be discussed? How could she talk about love when you didn't even have a saying in this arrangement? How, when you will marry the strongest?

Satoru Gojo?

"I really hope that he will learn." Your mother smiled while taking a sip from her tea. "He should know that his actions are what keep the Gojo Clan still important. He shouldn't throw that away."

The tension grew a lot, as Mrs. Gojo mirrored the smile and took a sip of the tea. "Well at least I brought him to our Clan. In the end that's the biggest thing a woman could achieve right?"

It was sick. We lived in modern times, but the Jujutsu Society was still so far behind, floating under the radar, with the excuse of making the world a better place.

"It's true." Your mother sighed as she lowered her cup. "The strongest really is the biggest achievement you could have ever accomplished. Being the parent of such a child... But I wonder..."

Your mother now didn't even try to hide her distain. "Why does his mother not have him under control?"

Klirrr

"Because." Mrs. Gojo's hand shook as it held the broken cup. The sharp shards cutting into it. "As a boy, he can have this freedom."

The black tea in your cup grew cold as long with the atmosphere in the room. Your mother stood up and left the room without a word. Her steps filled the silence in the room. And as she closed the door the woman in front of you sighed.

"Difficult woman, isn't she?" Mrs. Gojo let go of the cup shards while hissing. Her mask no longer in tact as she didn't smile anymore.

"Well who isn't?"

She looked at you surprised and then chuckled. "I guess you are right."

On the same day the arrangement was consolidated. It was official.

You will marry Satoru Gojo.

~~

"Suguru, how could this happen? To me?" Satoru whined as he complained to his best friend. "It all has to be a bad joke, right?"

"No, it sounds like a normal thing in jujutsu clans. I'm just confused why you didn't have any saying. You know, as the strongest." Suguru didn't look up from his book as his best friend groaned.

"That's what I'm saying! I don't give a damn about this whole clan thing."

As they were sitting in the park near their mission, they of course already finished not even breaking a sweat, the sun slowly set.

"It is a really bad system. How the clans only strive after power and never consider the lives of their toles." Suguru muttered as he turned the page.

"And now I have to marry a random girl I don't even know!" Satoru groaned again and buried his face in his hands.

"And she has to marry you." Suguru sighed.

Satoru looked at him slightly annoyed. "What do you want to say? Just say it."

"Well, I am sure, she is just as horrified as you at the sound of marriage. I'm just saying you could at least try to get to know her."

"I'm not going there." Stubbornly Satoru shook his head. "Never. I'm not giving them that satisfaction."

Suguru looked up at his friend and now he shook his head. "I pity your soon to be wife."

Offended, Satoru turned to his friend. "Hey! I'm your friend in need here!"

Suguru placed his bookmark gently in his book and then closed it. "Just promise you will show up to the wedding."

Satoru grinned. "Why? You scared of the higher-ups for me?"

"Not for you." He stood up as he looked down at his friend.

"For your wife. If an arranged marriage isn't going well, you know who gets blamed. And what you're doing is just cruel to her."

Gojo didn't say anything as he put on his blindfold.

~

"Do I look pretty?"

You didn't dare be louder than a whisper. "Mother?"

Her sigh gave you confirmation that she wasn't pleased. As she looked you up and down, her frown never disappeared. "As long you don't make that face, it's passable."

She stood up. "For a wedding you look... I just hope your husband will like you at your best."

"Soon to be husband." you corrected her quietly as you looked in the mirror.

"What?"

"Nothing."

She raised a brow but nodded slowly. Then she paced through the room impatiently. "That woman still hasn't given us any signs."

"Mrs. Gojo is probably seating the guests." a little part of you wanted to defend this woman. Your future mother in law.

"Or the groom makes problems again." your mother shook her head, like always when she spoke about the young Gojo.

After he didn't show up to a single meeting, she was sure that Mrs. Gojo didn't raise him right and that she as his mother should be blamed.

It was so pathetic. How you already felt his displeasure, his hatred towards you.

"Mother?"

"What is it?" she was annoyed.

"What was your wedding like?"

...

"Just like this one. It's tradition in our clan." her face was stone cold.

And you felt sympathy for her. She also had an arranged marriage. A wedding in which she didn't have any saying. A husband who she never chose.

"It's the bride's moment." The voice of Mrs. Gojo halled through the room.

Your mother smiled at you. You smiled back.

"Just don't mess it up."

~~

There were too many guests. Mostly people you didn't know. And all of them looked at you, while you made your way to the altar.

Under their stares you felt small.

But there was also this man. This guy with white hair, that stood at the end of your path. This boy that refused to even meet you before the wedding.

He gave you a glance and then continued to stubbornly look straight ahead.

As you stood before him, he didn't seem to be here with his thoughts.

And at this moment you knew he didn't want to marry you. No, you knew that before. But you knew that he would never open up or try to make this work.

And you didn't want that.

"I do."

No, you really didn't. And as he spatted the same words you knew that he was lying too.

~~

"Oh, you lucky girl!" The old woman, you didn't even know, said.

The after ceremony was not nice. All the guests wanted to talk to Gojo and some, not many pestered you. What really stung you was that they made more effort to talk to you than your own husband did.

"To marry such a handsome man." she looked at you and smiled knowingly.

"Of course it's an honor to marry Gojo Satoru as he is an important figure for the jujutsu society." Everything you said sounded like a broken record that lost any meaning.

She chuckled. "You can be honest with me. An heir will be on the way shortly, right?"

You hated this talk about an heir. Hated, hated, hated this people that keep telling you to hurry up and sleep with this man that didn't even look at you.

"We will see."

She laughed at that. And somehow you managed to excuse yourself from the conversation.

The rest of the evening was torture, but you somehow survived. Gojo didn't talk to you. He just disappeared at some point, leaving you alone in the cave of the lions.

His mother was right. He was a difficult person.

You hated that you had to ask around to be driven to his estate. Hated, that he didn't open the door, it was the personal chef that was going to leave. Hated, that you stood alone in this cold house.

He seemed to like to leave you alone. To just go.

You didn't want to sleep at this house. You didn't want to, but where should you go? Where could a place be, where you could hide?

Gojo had places. Not you.

You slept on the couch that evening. Your wedding dress was still on, as you didn't know what in this big house was to wear for you.

~~

"You're an asshole, you know that?" Satoru didn't like to hear that from his best friend, as he stood at his doorstep.

"I just need a place to sleep."

"I said to go to the wedding." Suguru felt like babysitting a toddler.

"And I did."

"Then why are you here? And not with your wife at your house?" Suguru slowly began to lose his patience.

"Can you just let me in, you ass?"

After shaking his head, Suguru opened his door wide enough to let Gojo in.

"Why are you here?" he wasn't going to make it easy for Satoru to forget he left you there.

"Had enough."

"You're such a child." Suguru shook his head. That's what ticked Gojo off.

"Stop it!" He threw his shoes on the floor.

"You can't judge me! Not when you don't know how it feels to have your future stripped from you just because you have been born in this family!"

Suguru kept silent this time.

~~

Your things were shiped to this mansion you should now live in. It wasn't a lot but your necessary clothes. Finally.

Finally you could take the dress off.

The clothing that reminded you that this was real. That your reason in life was already fulfilled and now you should just cease to exist.

No, that wasn't true, was it? You still had to bring an heir.

Will you ever get used to this new prison? You doubt it.

It was so big and cold. So many things but it didn't have this personal touch. It felt empty, unloved. Did Gojo even live here?

Well it seems like he wouldn't if you were here.

It was stupid. You didn't know him, just saw him yesterday for the first time in person. And still it was so clear he wouldn't make it easy for you.

You felt unloved.

"A letter, Mrs. Gojo."

The sudden voice blew you away from your thoughts. Another thing you wouldn't get used to. There were servants for the Clan leader. Like this girl. They were only needed in the kitchen, but it still felt wrong.

And something felt so wrong with being called this name.

"From who?"

The girl before you had a pitiful look. "Your mother." She cleared her throat. "She said, it's about your arrangement."

As you looked down at this paper, it felt like cursed energy was coming from it.

"Oh. Alright, thank you." Hesitating you took the letter.

The girl just nodded and made her way to the kitchen. The silence in this house was haunting.

Again you looked at the letter in your hands, and wished it was only paper. What should you do from now on? How would you spend your life?

Well obviously not with your husband as he wasn't even here.

And you would make sure that he didn't see the letters from your clan.

~~

"You're here." Satoru Gojo didn't seem pleased to see his wife in his house at this evening. Rather displeased, the way he frowned like a little child.

'Well.' you thought. 'That's to damn bad. He should have come to the arrangement hours.'

"Yeah. I have to be."

He didn't even look at you. Humiliation after humiliation. What would your child self say? Seeing that your own husband didn't even look or smile at you? The hopeless romantic would be crushed.

And now they definitely are.

"I see." His voice was barely audible. Oh, what a humiliation this must be for him! The strongest! Not even in control of his own marriage.

You really should pity him. Be understanding. Like the good wife your mother wanted you to be.

But you didn't have the strength to do that. No, you didn't sympathize with this man, that stood in front of you. The one who had the privilege of doing what he wanted till now just because he was blessed. Because he was born a boy.

And you were not.

"My things were brought this morning and Hina showed me around. I already-"

"Who is Hina?" Gojo sounded confused.

"The servant girl. The one who helps to cook?" you couldn't believe him. She even told you that she was working here since 3 years!

"Oh, yeah she. Continue."

You didn't like his tone, you didn't like his attitude, you didn't like that you didn't knew anything about him BECAUSE HE DIDN'T SHOW UP TO ANY-

"I already have my own room. I won't bother you." While trying to keep the bitterness down you started to whisper.

"What?"

As you looked up at him, your mind went blank. For the first time Satoru looked at you. With his big blue beautiful eyes, he looked at you. So mesmerizing that you almost forgot about your bitterness towards him.

Almost.

"I already have my own room. I won't bother you in any mean. We can also eat separately. In fact I would prefer that."

He snorted. "That's childish. Not even eating together."

And that broke the straw. The straw your patience was hanging on sooooo desperately.

"You." you poked his chest with force. "Can't tell me what's childish or not."

Your voice grew a bit. "You can't, not after not attending any meetings, actively trying to get away from me on our wedding day, leaving me alone for our clan people, leaving me alone for the night way to a new house I have to call home now!"

He kept silent. Like all the times you saw him.

"SO EXCUSE ME." You made your way to your room, shouting to make sure he knew what you said.

"IF I THINK MY HUSBAND DOESN'T WANT TO SEE ME AT ALL! AND IF I DON'T WANT TO HAVE MYSELF SUFFER THROUGH IT!"

You slammed the door with force.

You don't think your husband will ever even like you. Or if Gojo would ever even be your husband.

[empress-simps]

Can I request a fic with Remus (I love him), with a shy fem!reader girlfriend? House doesn’t really matter, but Hufflepuff might be fitting lol. She wants to meet his group of friends officially for the first time (she’s dating Remus and she hasn’t yet), but she’s too anxious despite trying to hype herself up for it? Maybe Remus comforts her

Darling, this is such a cute request! 🫶 Also, who doesn’t love Remus? We all do, no questions asked (I would do anything for him and Regulus). I absolutely love to write for this man, and I think Remus with a shy s/o is stinking cute. Thank you for requesting! 🫂 (Not edited so there may be grammatical errors or typos lurking around)

Loving Yellow and Black

Pairings: Remus Lupin x Fem! Reader CW: Language and mentions of smoking.

In many ways, you were different from his friends.

You were polite, kind, and willing to help others- basically what everyone thinks of when they picture an ideal Hufflepuff student. Not saying that James, Sirius, and Peter were rude or anything like that, but there was just something gentle about you that Remus saw. As for them? They’re a rambunctious mess, a bit rough around the edges.

Remus found it quite charming, you try your best to blend in, be a wallflower so your student life at Hogwarts would be smooth sailing. Although, to Remus, no matter what you do, you stand out effortlessly. When he first expressed his interest in you, you were hesitant and cautious. You thought it was just one of the many other pranks that he and the other marauders had planned on other students.

“Go out with me, Y/n?” Remus asked nervously, after a week of him approaching and befriending you.

“Erm…” You looked around, making sure he was talking to you. “Are you talking to me?”

So, he did everything he could to make sure you know that he’s serious about you and that you won’t feel anything but that.

Slowly but surely, the hesitance and doubts started to go away as you got to know him better. You learned that he loves chocolates, his eyes would light up when you bring him chocolate frogs whenever you and your friends would go to Hogsmeade. His eyes having literal stars as he took in the sight of you, and how his laugh would make you smile as he whisks you away from your common rooms to hang out (snog) in the Astronomy tower and bringing you back just before the clock strikes twelve.

You bring out the best versions of yourself when you’re both with each other. Remus helps you to be a bit more adventurous, making you try things you never even thought of doing, such as sneaking out past curfew. Remus was your many firsts.

Remus found himself being more patient and calmer than before, maybe your nature rubbed off on him like how his rubbed off on you.

“Moony, are you smoking… you know?”

Remus nearly choked on his breakfast one morning. He turns to look at Sirius, eyes wide with shock. “Just why would you think that Padfoot?!” Sirius shrugged, putting his arms up as if he was surrendering. “Geez, just asking a question, don’t get your knickers in a twist, Moony.”

“I’m not smoking, or doing whatever you think I’m doing, you sod.”

Remus grumbles while James just laughed, “Alright, there’s our original Moony.”

“You seem calmer recently, Moons. We were just curious.” Peter shrugs, taking a bite out of his pancake, Remus raised his eyebrow. “Oh really?”

“Yeah, it was like you turned into a saint. You don’t even scold James and I anymore for our boxers strewn across the floor- “

“Hey! Shut it, what if Lily hears?!”

“Mind you, we are in the great hall eating breakfast, Padfoot.”

“I’m just saying!”

“Quiet down, people are looking.”

It was just a matter of time when your friends found out you’re dating Remus and managed to keep it under their noses for a few months.

“Y/n! How could you? We trusted you!” El, one of your friends shrieks dramatically, plopping down her bed, making you furrow your eyebrows. “Erm… is there something going on?”

“of course there is! Why did you keep it a secret?” She whined, pulling you next to her.

“Keep what a secret?”

“You and Lupin!”

“Oh, erm…” You trailed off, trying to fight the blush forming on your face. Your other friends started to tease you, “So it’s true!”

“Yes.” You confirmed with a nod, your hands over your face as a poor attempt to cover your blush.

“Alright, we need to know if the bloke is good enough to date our Y/n.”

It quickly became known to other students within your house that you were dating the witty marauder. Of course, this kind of news spreads like wildfire across Hogwarts; even reaching the three marauders who were in the dark with their Moony’s love life. They need to meet you as soon as possible and didn’t even let Remus have peace and quiet until he asked you if you were okay about it.

“So, they found out about us.” Remus bit his lip, looking nervously. You blinked, “Well, it was bound to happen, my friends were… vocal about it.” She chuckled as Remus cracked a grin.

“Tell me about it.”

“I’m guessing they want to meet me?”

Remus nodded, sighing. “Sorry angel. I tried to tell them- “

“It’s alright, honey. I figured it would be good after my friends also demanded you to meet them.”

To say that you were terrified would be an understatement; you felt like you were going to throw up in your shoes, break out in a cold sweat, or even stumble because damn it- your legs are shaking, as if you’re going to collapse under your own weight.

Well yeah, you were the one who kinda brought it up, but it still didn’t lessen the nerves you have. You wanted them to at least be civil towards you and to recognize your relationship with their friend. You were thinking of what outfit you should wear a week prior to the meeting, and you carefully planned out how you would respond to the possible questions they’d have. Call it over thinking, but you were just preparing for every single possible outcome.

“Alright, I can do this.” You chanted, looking at the mirror then at your watch, only 30 minutes before Remus arrives in the Hufflepuff common room. You checked your hair, smoothing it out as you checked yourself for the umpteenth time.

“Merlin, Y/n. You’re acting like you’re meeting the Prime Minister of Magic.” El commented, shaking her head. “You’ll be fine, if they don’t like you… then they better prepare themselves for a Hufflepuff’s wrath.”

Remus casts a glance worriedly at you, fixing your black and yellow scarf on your neck. “Darling, it isn’t that cold out, you don’t have to practically cover your face with it.” He chuckles, kissing your reddening cheeks as you huffed, “It would be a great help when I meet your friends.” Grinning, he pinched your cheeks, making you glare at him.

“They’ll love you. Don’t worry too much, yeah?” He whispers, before giving your forehead a kiss, at this point, Remus and the cold weather’s mission is to make you look like a tomato.

You gulped nervously, fiddling with the ends of the scarf. “But… I…”

To be honest, you are kind of expecting them to be disappointed when they meet you. A Hufflepuff girl, fairly average, wallflower, and a goody-two-shoes. Quite boring, in your opinion. Remus’s gaze hardened, as if scolding you. “I know what’s going on your pretty mind, darling. Just be yourself.” Squeezing your hand in his, you made your way to the Gryffindor Tower and to the dorm room he and his friends share.

“There you are, Moony!” James smiled as he opened the door to their room, his smile widening as he casts, a glance at you. “You must be Y/n! Come in!” He excitedly ushers both of you inside the room, you gave Remus’s hand a squeeze, he looks at you and squeezes back. You took a glance at their room, there was Sirius laying down lazily on his bed, Peter sitting on a random beanbag on their dorm room, and Lily sitting on her boyfriend’s bed, beaming a smile in which you returned; albeit a little more nervously.

“Any second further than that and I’d thought Moony was lying about finally getting a girl, isn’t that right, wormtail?” Sirius grinned, teasing Remus before standing up and giving you a hug. Which made you widen your eyes and stiff up, but recovering quickly to hug him back, pulling away after a few moments.

“Nice to meet you, love. I’m Sirius.”

You smiled shyly, “Nice to meet you too, I’m Y/n.”

“Remus, tell me again how’d you manage to get someone as gorgeous as she is?”

Remus rolled his eyes, “Sod off, Pads.” Sirius just laughed, smiling as he looks at you and Remus together.

“Hi Y/n, I’m Peter. Nice to meet you.” Peter smiled politely, holding out his hand which you took, shaking it. “Nice to meet you too, Peter.”

Lily smiled, pointing at her boyfriend. “That one’s James! Don’t pay attention to him- “ cue a protest from James, who’s pouting  “-and I’m Lily, so glad there’s another girl in the group! They’re driving me crazy!” She practically bounced off her feet and hugged you, making you stumble, and Remus put a hand on your back to support you.

Okay, this wasn’t what you expected. Quite far actually.

Your heart fills with warmth as you allowed a smile to appear on your face, looking around, seeing how they felt so comfortable with you already. Sirius was busy bothering Peter, who shoos him away, complaining that he’s being annoying even when you’re with them. “Have you got any shame left with you, Padfoot?”

“Hm, last time I checked none.”

James was trying to get your opinion on how to pull off one of their pranks, and Lily scolding him not to drag you onto his shenanigans.

Remus pulls you close to him, wrapping his arms around your waist, he whispers. “Welcome to the family, darling.”

[wallabywhump]

Inspired by this gifset, and people in the tags saying "yoga teacher Tommy anyone?"

So, uh, please accept this offering of Season 1!Buck and Yoga Teacher!Tommy 😊 I haven't spell or grammar checked this, so please excuse any errors, I will do that before I put it on ao3 (maybe as a first meeting AU for BuckTommy week?) later lol.

Rating: Mature (esque), Buck is having some not safe for work thoughts about yoga teacher Tommy >.< (and Buck's own arousal 🤤)

Word count: 1.9k~

Enjoy!!

Buck slides through the half-open fire door at the yoga studio without double checking back down the alleyway he walked down. He's on the third yoga teacher from this particular studio, her name is Jewel on Tinder, and they usually fuck in her empty classroom.

She'd leave the door open; he would make his way through half empty hallways and dodge any actual pupils from her classes, and then they'd leave the door unlocked and-

So, he's not feeling like he needs to double check himself as he makes his way to her classroom. He keeps his head high, because if he bumps into Tiff or Kailey, he's not going to say no to them joining either, and saunters his way into Jewels classroom.

Buck feels wrong footed when he opens the door, and there is a man standing at the front of the class. He takes half a step back to check the room number on the door, and it's definitely 217 which is the number Jewel had texted that afternoon when he'd been sexting her from his bunk.

Buck knows he should probably turn around, leave, get out of there, because he has plans with Jewel, except he can't seem to take his eyes off the back of the head of this guy's head.

He's big, and burly, with arms that look like they could do some damage, rivalling some of the bigger men at the Firehouse. They're shiny and look near throbbing, in the way that Buck tends to see from the men at the gym who've just spent an hour working out, beads of sweat along lines of muscle. The kind of men he spends hours talking to about their routine, their protein intake, what weight they've made it up to.

Men who like and appreciate a good workout. Men whose physique Buck admires. Men who Buck looks up and down and commits to memory for inspiration when they're sweaty and their gym clothes no longer hide anything.

And, well, Buck can see from across the room that mystery male yoga teacher is covered in sweat. The guy's tank top isn't hiding anything, stuck to him, and Buck sees his shoulder muscles outlined by the dark fabric.

There is a towel slung over his shoulders that looks equally soaked, catching the beads that roll down his neck.

Buck follows the towel down the planes of the guy's back, the tank top clings to his waist and Buck wants to suck the sweat out of it.

The thought feels like a bucket of water over his head, and he blinks.

What?

Buck's mouth feels dry, and his mind is spinning, completely caught off guard by the desire to quench himself with a strangers sweat, and he's still staring at the guy's hips. He can't stop his eyes drifting lower and over those shorts that are obviously for modesty's sake but are achieving nothing because they've risen up between the guy's asscheeks and are cupping them perfectly.

Buck wants to blame having come here already half-horny and ready for a fuck for the way that his blood is rushing.

A good ass is a good ass.

And mystery male yoga teacher has a delicious looking one.

Buck takes a step back, committing mystery male yoga teacher's back profile to memory, and ready to find Jewel and not think about this.

But then the door swings closed against Buck's ass, and he stumbles forward into the room.

Mystery male yoga teacher jumps up and spins around and, God, Buck kind of wishes he hadn't.

The guy's front is just as gorgeous as the back, hair sticking to his forehead. His pecs are incredibly perky, yet another thing that Buck notices in other men when he's at the gym, and the tank top has risen up slightly to show off a hint of his abs, and the start of the 'v' down towards his groin and Buck would love to get his tongue in that and-

"Can I help you?"

Buck's head snaps up to look at mystery male yoga teacher's face and becomes aware that his mouth is open, and he's been looking at the poor guy like he was a tall glass of water and Buck parched.

Buck unsticks his tongue from his bottom teeth, and swallows. "Hi."

Mystery male yoga teach does not look impressed. He raises his eyebrow, - Buck wonders how someone can have such blue eyes, he could get lost in them - and tilts his head to the side.

"Want to try that again?" He asks.

Buck nods, a little numbly, and now he's looking at the guy's face, he can't stop. Buck kind of wants to kiss the guy's cheek bones, nibble along his jaw, lick the cleft of his chin. Buck's vision whites a little, as he tries desperately to steer his thoughts away from horniness.

"I," Buck starts to say, and his voice cracks so harshly that Buck has to stop and clear his throat. Maybe he was thirsty. "I was here to see Jewel."

"Jewel?" Mystery male yoga teacher says, eyebrows furrowed, looking so adorably confused as his face scrunches up. "Jewel...I don't..." Tommy's face goes completely blank for a second. "Ah, right, Julie. You mean Julie, kid?"

"Sure," Buck agrees, because he doesn't know Jewel as Jewel, but he's fairly certain Tiff and Kailey hadn't used their names either.

Mystery male yoga teacher rolls his eyes. "She went home with the flu just before her last class," he says, "sorry, kid."

He turns away, leaning over to start packing the bag at his feet, and Buck can't help but look at the guy's ass again. Bent over, it only makes those shorts ride up even more, and Buck imagines crawling across the yoga classroom floor and burying his face between them.

Can't be much different than with a woman, right?

Buck kind of wants to be smothered by them, wants to let the guy use his tongue, to feel strong thighs around his head. Buck swallows, and runs his tongue along the inside of his mouth.

"Anything else?" Mystery male yoga teacher asks still bent over.

Buck shakes his head, and then breathes. "No, nope, I'm just-" admiring the view? "I'll be leaving," Buck settles for.

But he doesn't get the chance to move, because mystery male yoga teacher chooses that moment to squat, and his thighs flex and Buck's vision has full on spots dancing in them now, with how easily the other mans legs bend, and how flexible he looks fully squatted, but strong and so in control, because his ass is just inches from touching the ground.

The man bounces when he reaches the bottom of his squat, just slightly, two bounces with his legs spread and his ass dropped, and, fuck, Buck hates that Jewel has flu.

He's going to need to borrow the studios showers to douse himself, for sure, because there's no way he makes it home with how hot he feels right now.

"Look, kid, need me to pass on a message to Julie?" Tommy asks, twisting around - still squatting, how flexible is he? - and looking at Buck.

Buck fumbles to pull his phone out of his pocket. "Nah, I can just-" He clicks the button, only for the screen to stay black. Well, that explained why Jewel hadn't messaged him that it was off. "Damn," he mutters.

Mystery male yoga teacher raises an eyebrow.

"Yeah, actually, can you just tell her that..." Buck trails off, and his face feels warm, because she's not going to know his name, but he can't just tell this adonis his tinder name, and he doesn't tend to tell people outside his job that his nickname is Buck. "Tell her Evan stopped by."

Mystery male yoga teacher bounces on the balls of his feet and stands up, his bag slung over one shoulder, and shakes his head. There's something to his expression, mild disappointment, but also understanding. "Julie's not going to know you as Evan, is she?"

Buck wishes the floor would swallow him up, because this man has him pegged. Or maybe he just knows his coworker really well. Could be either. Buck refuses to be embarrassed by it though, and he shuffles on the spot, puffing out his chest a little, and swallows to steel himself.

"It's, uh, Firehose."

Buck braces himself for ridicule, maybe a laugh, but mystery male yoga teacher doesn't laugh. He smirks instead, and his eyes drift down to Buck's body, lingering on Buck's chest for a few seconds before landing on half-hard cock.

Mystery male yoga teacher's eyes go half lidded, his tongue runs along his lips, and he swallows before tilting his head to the side. Buck wants to preen because he just got checked out. He just got checked out by a hot guy, and based on the reaction, the hot guy liked what he saw.

"Is it now?" Mystery male yoga teacher's voice is just as dry as his expression had been earlier, and something about that flat tone, the obvious flirt in it, does something for Buck.

"People like to tell me it is, at least," Buck flirts back with a wink.

Mystery male yoga teacher's grip on his bag makes his knuckles white, and the man nods. "I guess if it's peer reviewed," he says, finally looking away from Buck's groin to his face, and raising an eyebrow.

"By many people," Buck says, and then flounders a little because he knows he wants to flirt, but he hasn't flirted with a guy before, is he doing it right? "Very good at putting out fires, the pressure has five stars, definitely who you want to call for your emergencies."

The guy barks out a laugh, and maybe Buck missed the mark with that one, but the way mystery male yoga teacher's face scrunches up as he smiles is something Buck wants to treasure.

"Okay, well, down boy," he says. The words send a sharp bolt of electricity down Buck's spine, his skin feels like it's on fire, and he inhales sharply. "I'll let Julie know Firehose was here for her, okay?"

Mystery male yoga teacher is moving closer, clearly ready to leave, and Buck knows he'll probably never see him again if he lets him leave.

"Or, or, you could not," Buck says, quickly, it rushes out of him. "I mean, I-"

All Buck's smoothness is gone, and mystery male yoga teacher is barely two feet away, and now Buck can smell him. He sways on the spot, wants to chase that smell, press his nose into it and smell it forever. Most men at the gym don't get this close, but Buck thinks the gym might be ruined forever if he ever reacts like this again.

"Jewel didn't even give me her name," Buck says, and steps closer to him, "can't have been that serious, you know?"

"You didn't give her yours either," the man points out, unimpressed.

Buck nods, shaking his head in a 'good point' motion. "Okay, but I gave it to you."

Mystery male yoga teacher laughs again. "When I asked you." The lilt to his voice is like a sirens call, and Buck wants to make him laugh again.

"I don't give it to just anyone." Buck tries his best to look up through half-lidded eyes, bites his lip in a way one of his older flings used to like, and softens his eyebrows to appear just a little bit younger.

It works like a charm.

"Jesus Christ," Mystery male yoga teacher whispers, "you're something else, Firehose."

"Evan," Buck corrects, and smirks, because hook, line, sinker, he's bagged himself another yoga teacher.

"Well, Evan-"

Holy fuck, Buck is fairly certain he could come from this man's voice alone, his name in this man's mouth is a weapon.

"-I'm Tommy."

[atimeofyourlife]

Sugar and Spice and Everything Nice

written for @steddieholidaydrabbles warm up round: bakery au rated: t | wc: 840 | cw: none | tags: pre-steddie Eddie never got involved in the upside down, he and Steve meet again a few years later in a bakery in Chicago

The bakery was Steve's pride and joy. It was something that he had accomplished and built up by himself, without the input from his parents. No financial assistance from them, no help in learning how to manage a business. It had been a lot of trial and error, and incredible support from his friends, but he had succeeded. He'd brought the small unit in Chicago using most of the hush money payment over the Upside Down. It needed a lot of work doing to it before he was ready to open it, but once it was open it just took off. Constantly selling out of most of the bakes by lunchtime each day, having to take on extra staff to keep up with demand.

After nearly two years, he had a number of very loyal regulars, the ones who would come in at the same times and same days each week, always ordering the same things. The local workers that would always come in before work or on a morning break for a sweet treat everyday. The older couples that would come in twice a week, once for a dessert for their weekly date nights, and once for treats for their grandchildren. The college students that were adamant that Steve's pastries were infinitely better than the ones they could get on campus.

But the newest regular, one his staff had nicknamed 'Mr Metal,' Steve had yet to meet. From the name, Steve assumed that he worked in the new record store that had opened across the street, but the man always managed to be in and out while Steve was still working in the kitchen, setting up the next batch for the oven or decorating what had just finished cooling.

One Friday morning, he was carrying out the boxes ready to restock the counter, when he heard the voice of Zara, one of the cashiers.

"Uh, I'm not sure. Give me a minute, I'll just have to ask the boss."

"Ask me what?" Steve asked as he rounded the counter, the stack of boxes obscuring most of his vision.

"Please tell me that those boxes have lemon cream cheese pastries and apple pie cookies in them." She replied, sounding a little stressed.

"Yeah, lemon are in the top box, apple in the bottom." Steve replied as he put the boxes down on the side, and started unstacking them. He glanced up at the customer, a vaguely familiar, handsome man, and from the long hair, piercings, and the Black Sabbath t-shirt, this had to be the Mr Metal that all the staff kept mentioning. "How many of each did you want?"

"Two of each." The man replied, staring hard at Steve.

"Uh huh." Steve worked quickly to box them up. "Are you aware of our Friday five for four offer? Five bakes for the price of four, so you could get another of your choice at no extra cost."

"I get them for me and my coworkers, theres four of us so I don't think we can split a fifth four ways without fighting over who gets what."

"I can always bag it separately, so you can slip it in your pocket. They don't have to know a thing about it." Steve offered with a wink.

"You drive a hard bargain, Harrington. I'll take another apple pie cookie."

"I-" Steve looked at the man, confused. Unsure how he knew his name. "Did you go to Hawkins, then? I'm sorry, I don't think I remember you."

"You got a table round here? I could climb up and start talking about jocks and conformity." He looked Steve up and down. "Though, you don't seem to conform to the jock image any more, big boy."

It took another moment, but the name hit Steve as he was bagging the extra cookie. "Munson. Used to buy weed off you."

"I don't know if I should be honored that the king remembers me, or wounded that it took so long."

Steve rolled his eyes at the dramatics, it reminding him even more of high school. "I don't remember most people now, too many concussions."

"Shit. But now you're boss of a bakery. How life changes."

"Yeah. It only took three serious concussions, two major disasters in Hawkins, and one disownment after getting caught behind The Hideout with Matty P. But then I realized that this is what I want to be doing."

"What were you doing behind The Hideout with Matty P? Smoking weed or something? I know you never hid about that."

"We had been smoking, but at that point my mouth was, uh, otherwise occupied." Steve admitted.

"Oh, shit." Eddie choked back a laugh, then looked at his watch. "I'd love to hear more about that, but I've got to get back to work."

Steve quickly wrote his number on the bag with the extra cookie, before handing it over. "Call me sometime, maybe we could spend some time together outside of work."

"You're on, Harrington." Eddie winked at Steve, before leaving the bakery.

im not the happiest with the end of this bc it was rushed after my brain turned to mush from migraines

[raynesbunny]

WHAT MAKES THEM EMBARRASSED?

Mashle headcanon!

💌: GN!reader, fluff

⚠️: Ooc and maybe cringe, slight suggestive on Orter's part?

Requested by: @rainee-da

Characters: Orter Madl, Rayne Ames, Abyss Razor

Others: Guess who's back! I was thinking of finishing all the short stories before going back, though— but I don't want to keep you guys waiting! I'll feel very bad if I do so｡:ﾟ(;´∩`;)ﾟ:｡ Angst Rayne A. x reader coming soon! Still fixing a lot of errors<33 Enjoy reading, pookies!(≧▽≦) (this is my first time writing a headcanon so please do leave a message if there are errors!)

—

Orter Màdl

♡ It's almost impossible to make this man feel embarrassed; he hardly shows any expressions regardless of what others do—always wearing a straight and serious face! Many have attempted to make him laugh and smile, but their efforts have always been in vain, no matter how much they've tried. It almost seemed like expressing emotions is against the rules to him!

♡ And then there's you, his dearest, his partner, his beloved, his darling, his sweetheart, his sunshine, his angel, his lover, the one who melted his icy heart and kept it warm—the only one capable of evoking emotions within him that he never thought he would experience someday. (although, this rule-obsessed man cannot bring himself to admit it openly!)

♡ If there's one thing that can make Orter feel embarrassed, it would be your unexpected, sneaky and quick yet soft kisses and pecks!

♡ Whenever you peck his cheek, his brain momentarily stops functioning, and his heart flutters. His body freezes (and a faint blush is visible on his cheeks) at the touch of your soft lips against his skin.

♡ Your innocent and delicate feathered kisses drives him wild, but he would never dare to utter a word about his longing for more of those adorable little kisses!

Extra:

♡ Today was another busy day for the young man, Orter Màdl. Well— busier than usual that he had forgotten to bring his lunch with him.

And here you are, now in his office to deliver the homemade lunch to your hard-working lover, along with an encouraging letter you poured your heart into creating!

Upon noticing your presence, Orter averted his gaze from his work and looked up at your approaching figure with a small bag in your hand.

"What brings you here?" he asked.

"You forgot your lunch at home, and I won't allow my man to work with an empty stomach, so I decided to bring it here to you," you replied.

Orter remained silent, choosing to turn his focus back to his paperwork. However, his shoulders seemed more relaxed now, and his facial expression had softened. That sight alone was enough for you to know that he was grateful, and he doesn't need to express it through words or pay you back.

(The pile of paperwork on his desk bothered you. You seriously wanted to help, but this stubborn boyfriend of yours would not let you, and you were left with no choice.)

(Last time, you tried helping him, but it only ended up with you wrapped in his sand magic.)

"Here's your lunch, by the way. Don't forget to eat it at lunchtime," you said, placing the small bag with his lunchbox inside on his desk. When you heard no answer, you glanced at him, seeing that he was focused on his work.

This seemed to be the perfect time to take the chance and sneak a kiss.

As your lips were about to reach his cheek, Orter turned around (on purpose), causing your lips to meet his instead.

You were about to pull away immediately, only for the desert cane to grab your wrists, pin you down on his desk and deepen the kiss, preventing you from moving and keeping the kiss from breaking. Leaving you breathless and blushing, a flustered mess.

—

Rayne Ames

♡ Just like the rule-obsessed divine visionary, he's often cold and serious. But believe me when I say that he isn't cruel! He's just having a hard time expressing that he actually cares for the people, especially those whom he's fond of, interested in, and of course- you.

♡ Speaking of you, you are his everything. He'd do anything to keep you safe, make you feel loved, respected, and comforted! Even with his busy schedule, he'll find a way to prioritize you, no matter what. (You matter the most in his life, aside from his rabbits and Finn, of course he'll prioritize those who are important to him.) Though, there are times that he must attend to his duties first, but he'll be sure to make it up to you! It just takes some time, and hopefully you'll understand.

♡ And when I say you're his everything, I mean; you're his joy, his comfort, his warmth, his flower, his world, his dream, his reason to smile, his strength, his motivation, his star, his light—

♡ If there is something that makes this man embarrassed, it's the way you know or understand what he wants (sometimes mentioning it) and letting him know that you have given him your consent!

♡ He will hesitate at first, but will give in as soon as he knows that you are certain. Like those days where he was staring down at your lips with a troubled expression, and this will never go unnoticed by you.

♡ You held yourself back from laughing, it was truly an adorable and amusing sight!

♡ You would press your forehead against his, your lips parting to mutter the words that you have given him your consent.

♡ Rayne's face would turn bright red, his gaze snapping to you with a look of embarrassment. He cannot believe he got caught again!

♡ You chuckled at the expression on his face, but your laughter died down when Rayne immediately brought his lips to meet yours in a gentle yet firm kiss, the contact sending a warm shiver down your spine.

Extra:

♡ You were playing with Rayne's pet rabbits in your shared room, wearing the comfortable rabbit hoodie that matched with your boyfriend but in your favorite color.

"There! All done!" You chirped and stroked Usao's fluffy fur, staring at all the rabbits decorated with ribbons in awe.

"[Name.]"

At the sound of his voice calling your name, you turned around to face him. Once you did, you're met with himself close to you, the sudden closeness making your eyes widen in surprise and confusion. "Is something the matter?"

(It was hard reading him this time, not even a single clue was visible! Is he doing this on purpose?)

Said boyfriend shook his head before gently taking your hand in his, caressing it tenderly.

He closed his eyes and brought your hand up to his lips for him to place a soft and long kiss.

The kiss lasted for a while and it took you some time to process what just happened. When you did, you found yourself stunned and flustered.

—

Abyss Razor

♡ Believe when I say THAT THIS MAN GETS ALL FLUSTERED WITH EVERYTHING YOU DO. (You were just too much for his heart to handle, he might explode in embarrassment.)

♡ Even the simplest, smallest things you do, like getting close to him, holding his hand, or even a gentle poke on the cheek, headpats, or your compliments, cause him to freeze in embarrassment or leave him trembling and a stuttering mess. (Even your smile and voice!)

♡ The last time this happened was when you were combing his hair and you stopped when you caught a whiff of the scent of his hair.

You drew closer to him, hoping to smell that pleasant fragrance again.

"Say, Abyss, what shampoo do you use?"

♡ He responded with silence, you were just too close to him! Close enough that his brain stopped functioning!

♡ Abyss.exe has stopped working.

♡ You are welcome to shower this lover of yours with affection, but please have mercy! He has zero experience when it comes to this! (Your affections for him might be the cause of his death /j)

♡ He is so adorable, please don't ever hurt him. Cherish him with all your heart, for goodness' sake! He deserves all the love and care.<33

Extra:

Your fingers brushed the silky strands of your lover's hair, tucking it behind his ear before clipping it with a ribbon. (I live for the coquettish display<33)

Once you were done, you gasped at the sight of your lover with his hair neatly down and a ribbon clipped in place.

"My goodness! You look beautiful, my love, as always!"

"Even with my cursed evil eye?"

"Nonsense! I find your evil eye unique and beautiful! Even with or without that, you will always be a beauty in my eyes, both on the outside and the inside!"

Just as he was about to respond, you gently placed your finger on his lips and embraced him, burying your face in his stomach.

"Hush! Don't even think of saying those words. Your cursed evil eye has nothing to do with who you are! You have done nothing wrong! If no one else will accept the whole of you aside from Abel, then I WILL. I do not care what that evil eye of yours will do to me, I am willing to embrace everything in you. I will always love you, even with all your flaws. Nothing and no one can change my mind and my heart—"

You stopped yourself from rambling when you felt a sudden drop of liquid fall on top of your head.

"Abyss?"

You sat up to check on him, only for panic to rush through you as your eyes met his face that is soaked with tears.

"Did I say something wrong? Please, don't cry and tell me what's wrong! It pains me to see you in tears!" (You might cry too /j)

Receiving no response from him, you were left with no choice but to embrace him in a hug, hoping that it could provide him solace.

Abyss wrapped his arms around you in return, his tears soaking the fabric on your shoulder. (Which you did not mind at all.)

He could never be more grateful than being accepted despite the flaws he bore, especially his very own evil eye.

—

I'll add a few more characters for this headcanon after writing the second angst I'm planning to write! I hope you enjoyed reading my first headcanon! Have a great, wonderful day or night, lovelies!💌

[ronearoundblindly]

would you ever write an invisible reader? Like let’s say she’s an agent or a scientist. Quiet and stuff right? She always keeps to herself has the biggest crush on Steve but because she’s thinks she’s invisible she doesn’t ever think he might be interested too. There’s a mission she goes on and things go awry and she actually turns invisible. Something akin to how in the Fantastic Four movies they get their powers she gets this one? But it takes time to get under control. Steve thinks it’s his fault so he tries to help out. And through the the process of helping her gain back visibility she realizes Steve has seen her all along. Lol this really just came to my head when I was thinking about Steve using paint on someone’s body as a way to show them he thinks they’re art.

This. Is. Spectacular. I'm gonna fudge it a bit. Headcanon/stream of consciousness format. No warnings just canon-level "action." gif credit: @meidui

Erasure (Steve Rogers x junior agent!Reader)

My first instinct is to make it an ability to alter someone perception--i.e. you're constantly a little embarrassed of your input, so you tell people to 'forget you said that'--and let's say that constant hope that you won't be remembered badly is the innate trigger for your ability.

Probably a science experiment of Tony's gone wrong. He and the team are arguing about something that needs to be recovered before a damaged thing reaches critical mass. You sneak in to just grab what he wants and not waste time arguing. Tony doesn't know you're in there and locks the lab down until the dangerous pulse dissipates. (Steve doesn't know you're in there either because you popped in while he was facing and yelling at Tony, fwiw.) Maybe Tony saunters in once the doors open, finds you there with the part in your hand and knocked on your ass.

Your skin touches his as he reaches for you and the part. You jokingly tell him there's nothing to worry about, nothing to see here. You're surprised that he listens and walks off immediately, chatting and leading the team away down the hall to show them something else he's working on in the hangar bay.

Overall, once you catch your breath, you're fine. You don't want to go to the infirmary and tell them you did something so dumb.

Life continues.

Through a lot of trial and error, you realize what you can do--forcibly--by erasing people's memory of you being around. The head count for meetings is off. Several teammates you know you spoke to see security footage of you at the time and curiously remark that they don't recall you being there. Things like that. It works on everybody, or so you think.

There's a brainstorming session about how to infiltrate a possibly corrupt corporation's facility to gain intel. Everyone agrees to this elaborate rouse where two ripped agent dudes pose as janitors and blah blah blah. It's a little absurd.

You check the companies job listings, and knowing you qualify for one, submit an application the next day. The woman in HR who hires you doesn't work on the same floor as where you are technically snooping, and you can handle the work they actually want you to do in just a few hours a day, giving you a bunch of time to access nearly everywhere and nudge everyone to forget you were there.

The attempted break-in of fake janitors is the talk of the office on your last day, the one where you find the info Stark wanted to begin with, and then you quit, still quietly, returning to the Avengers the next morning.

You drop off the intel to Tony's office when he's not there, but just as you get situated back at your little desk, Steve comes up.

He looks concerned, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning against the flimsy cubicle wall.

"Feeling better?"

You're so confused.

"You were out for over a week. Did you need to go to the hospital? Was a family member with you at least? You could have called in for help."

On impulse, you grab his arm and tell him not to worry about you, yet he...doesn't move. After a flawless use of the power hundreds of times in a row, you don't understand.

Blinking up at Steve, you blurt, "I should be erased. Why are you still noticing me?"

He's bewildered, sure, but Steve tucks his head and smiles shyly.

"Can't erase you, doll," he chuckles, so soft only you can hear. "I draw you in pen--" Steve taps his temple "--up here..."

He bends down, his hand gently gripping your arm and his cheek touching yours.

"...now where you been for a week?"

And then, yes, some beautiful closeness and Steve paints on you to highlight what parts he drew so permanently on his mind!

🤗

a/n: Thank you for sending in this lovely idea, nonnie! I'm sorry everything I'm writing has been short and convoluted the last...while, but this is such a sweet premise. (Also, my apologies if you really, really wanted straight invisibility as the power. Just send in another ask, and I'll try to come up with an alternate version!)

[Main Masterlist; Light Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

[thezombieprostitute]

Imagine this:

accountant!reader x IT tech!Jensen x manager!Andy x CEO!Lloyd

The intent was to write something short and sweet but smutty. The result is approximately 2200 words with a ton of smut! I blame Lloyd.

Warnings: Power dynamics; Creepy boss; Smut, smut, SMUT! Minors DNI!!!!

“Thank you, Jake,” you half whisper, half moan into his ear. “I really needed this.” You’re not normally one for hookups in the supply closets but you’d had such a stressful day you really needed to let off some steam. Thankfully Jake was always happy to help you out. And he was very good at helping you feel good. 

The two of you had a friends-with-benefits situation that had been carefully negotiated and navigated. Sometimes you got the sense that Jake wanted more and that’s why he was so eager to please. But you were both quick to talk if either of you felt things were getting too serious. It definitely made office parties a lot more fun. Everyone else was enjoying the cheap food and you and Jake got to go to a private office and actually take your time together.

You both do try to be careful at the office but your manager, Andy, has been really ramping up the sad sack shtick with all the women in your department, desperate for a date or some feminine attention and pity. You could only take so much, especially when your coworkers pointed out to him that you’re single. Traitors. 

Every day he would ask you about your plans. You tried being polite and got nowhere. You finally told him, directly, that you weren’t interested in him last Friday. Today you were called into a meeting with HR about “appropriate workplace behavior”. They told you they’d received complaints from your manager about flirting with him despite him telling you “no”. You smiled tightly and nodded, staying quiet and signing the documents saying you’d been talked to. 

You texted Jake on your phone to meet you in the hall closet. One of the things you appreciated? He didn’t ask questions, he just showed up and gave you what you needed. He really seemed to like it when you would repeatedly whisper “thank you’s” into his ear. It’s only a quickie but it definitely helps. You kiss Jake’s cheek and thank him as he blushes. You leave at different times and head back to your respective desks.

 You check your email and find yourself looking at an appointment with Lloyd Hansen, the company’s CEO. Thinking it must’ve been in error you hit the “Decline” button and add the most polite note that you can think of. Just a few minutes after you get yet another appointment notice with Mr. Hansen. No explanatory note. You’re extra grateful to Jake because your brain immediately jumps to Andy complaining about you to Mr. Hansen because your HR visit wasn’t enough of a punishment. 

The appointment is for tomorrow so you silently stew for the rest of the workday. At home you treat yourself to your favorite meal and shows. Your sleep is full of stressful dreams and you wake up more exhausted than when you went to bed. Not wanting to look like a mess in front of Mr. Hansen, you make sure to take extra care of your makeup and clothing choices. Working as hard as your caffeine deprived can to balance “I’m okay” with “I’m not trying to flirt with anyone”. It’s never an easy task.

As you log on to your computer you smell Andy’s cologne and internally wince. You turn to face him, “yes, Mr. Barber?”

“Easy there, tiger,” he chastised. “I just want to make sure that you’re doing okay after that HR meeting.”

Gritting your teeth you reply, “why wouldn’t I be?”

“Well I know a lot of people can have a kind of whiplash when they realize their behavior isn’t acceptable,” he explains in an obviously condescending tone. “I’ll understand if you want to take some vacation time.”

“Mr. Barber,” you seethe, “I think what would help me the most is keeping some distance between us at all times in the office.”

“Okay,” he scoffs. “Just remember who it is that HR listens to.” He walks away and you find yourself trying to not throw or break something. 

As soon as you can you head straight to Mr. Hansen’s office. His secretary lets you in, though he is not yet in. You should probably be upset that he’s late for the meeting he insisted on having with you but it’s better than sitting in your cubicle waiting for Andy to strike. 

The quiet is broken by Mr. Hansen storming into the office, yelling at someone on the phone. You recognize him immediately if only because of the mustache. “And I told you to handle it, Six! Get your head out of your ass and fix it!” He lets out a small huff as he listens to the person on the phone. “I don’t give a shit. It should’ve been handled weeks ago. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a meeting.” He hangs up without waiting for a response and turns to you with a smile that makes you feel like prey caught in a trap.

“So you’re the girl Barber was complaining out,” he starts. You’re unable to hold back your grimace and he laughs. “Don’t worry, sweetheart, I don’t give a shit about that cuck.” You tilt your head in confusion. “See, he tried to play up the whole “women don’t know how to take a compliment” thing but I was able to see through him. He’s pathetic and you weren’t having it. Even flat out told him, “no”. That’s something I respect. Not everyone would do that to their boss.”

He sits down in his chair and continues, “so I started looking into you and imagine my surprise when I find out you and Jensen are hooking up!” Your eyes widen in shock and you start stammering before he holds out a hand, gesturing for you to stop. “You’re not in trouble for that. Hell if I could get laid instead of attending those lame work parties I absolutely would. Which is why I brought you here.” 

He leans his elbows on the desk, “I want in on whatever fuck-buddy deal you and Jensen got going on.”

“S..sir, I,” you’re at a loss for words. 

“Tell you what,” he slaps the desk and stands up, “I’ll make it easy for you. Either you agree to be my own fuck-buddy, occasionally still get some good stuff from Jensen, or I’ll make you Barber’s personal secretary.”

“What if I quit instead?”

“Then I’ll go ahead and fire Jensen,” he quips. “It would be a damn shame, though. Jakey is one of the best IT guys we got. Likely up for a promotion that would get him a private office.”

“Can I talk to Jake first,” you plead. “It is part of our arrangement that we communicate changes before they’re implemented.”

“You know what, sure. I can respect that a deal is a deal.” He goes to the phone on his desk and tells his secretary to send Jake up.

When Jake does arrive he’s shocked to see you. At Lloyd’s gesture he closes the door behind him. Lloyd doesn’t let you speak and lays everything out for him like he did you. 

Jake looks at you, “it’s…umm…I appreciate you looking out for me and my job,” he starts. “But it’s also your body and I would never want you to accept something like this just for me.”

“You know, Jakey here has a point,” Lloyd interjects. “You really don’t know what you’re in for with me. How about a demonstration? I’ll even let Jake join in to help keep you comfortable.”

Knowing that you were being watched shouldn’t excite you so much. The fact that both of these men wanted you was making you wet. You straddle Jake in his chair and start making out with him while taking off your clothes and grinding your hips against his crotch. 

Jake moans as he takes off your bra with practiced ease, “you’re sure about this?” 

“Feel how wet I am, Jake.” He obliges and sticks his fingers inside your panties. He rubs your clit and you arch your breasts into his face as his eyes widen at the wetness he finds there. 

“Holy shit,” he breathes. He gets a dark glint in his eye that you don’t entirely recognize. He removes his hand and starts to unbutton your pants. “You gotta taste her, Mr. Hansen. Sweetest pussy and it’s already drenched.”

You hadn’t realized Lloyd was standing behind you until he grabbed your breasts, lifting you a little as he nibbled your neck. He pulls you off of Jake and the two of them finish undressing you before setting you on Lloyd’s desk. You’re on your back, your head hanging over one side, your legs spread wide for the both of them. 

Lloyd doesn’t hesitate and dives tongue first into your pussy. Your reaction is immediate as he uses his mustache to tickle your clit. You throw your head back and moan before you’re able to stifle it. 

He pulls away from you, “don’t worry about noise, sweetheart. My secretary is gone for the afternoon and no one else would dare be on this floor.” He turns to Jake, “you were right! This is a damn tasty snack.” He gets back to it and you don’t hold back your sounds. It was such a relief to get to be as loud as you wanted. 

“Fuck, I love those sounds,” Jake groans.

You reach out to him, “your cock, Jake? Please, can I stroke your cock?”

“Love those sounds, too,” he grins as he undoes his belt. You look to Lloyd to see if he has any objections but he’s too focused on licking up all of your juices. Jake is already half hard and your hands know just how to get him fully erect. His hands start playing with your tits, gently pinching, pulling and fondling. 

The two of them quickly bring you to the brink of orgasm, then Lloyd sticks two of his fingers inside you and it pushes you over the edge. You cum loudly and Lloyd keeps scissoring his fingers while sucking on your clit, enjoying the show. When the aftershocks fade, he removes his hand and backs away just a little.

“Jensen, you take her mouth,” he orders. “I’m gonna make a mess of this pussy and I want to hear her choking on your cock while I do.”

You let go of Jake’s erection and he starts pushing himself into your mouth, grunting and moaning as he does so. He’s careful with you, like always, and places your hand on his thigh so you can signal if it gets too much.

Lloyd, however, lines himself up with your opening and quickly thrusts himself fully inside. If your mouth wasn’t so full of Jake’s cock, you’d likely have screamed. They fucked both of your holes with abandon and you were loving every second of it. Occasionally Jake would ask for a status and you’d tap his thigh twice for “all good”. 

“Not gonna last much longer,” Lloyd admitted. “This pussy is so fucking tight. I see why you risked your job for her.” He started rubbing your clit and you careened towards another orgasm. As soon as Jake came in your mouth you were done for. You tightened your legs around Lloyd as you came hard and swallowed all of Jake’s spend. You heard Lloyd mumbling, “fuck, fuck, fuck,” before he came with a yell. 

You’re still in a daze as both men pull out of you. Lloyd whistles, “now that’s a pretty picture. What say we get you cleaned up?”

“What the fuck?!” A voice from the office door crashes your post-orgasm euphoria. You look up and see Andy, standing in the doorway.

“Ah, Barber,” Lloyd says as he zips his pants back up. “Right on time.”

“What?!” Jake exclaims as you look, wide-eyed, at Lloyd. 

“You see, Andy,” he walks over to your manager and claps him on the shoulder. “You’re a complete cuck and we both know it.” Andy tries to protest but Lloyd cuts him off. “This is the closest you’re ever going to get to some pussy. Now be a good boy and clean up the mess I made.” He throws Andy to his knees in front of your spread pussy. 

Andy groans at the sight and you feel a stir of courage. “Well,” you scold. “Are you going to be a good boy and do as you're told or am I going to have to clean myself up?” His eyes darken but you don’t back down. He dives into your cum filled pussy and starts cleaning you up.

“Good boy,” Lloyd smirks. “Probably the only way you can actually please a woman.” He looks at Jake, “whenever you’re done with her, call her cuck over to clean up. Sound good?”

Jake looks to you and sees you writhing with pleasure, “I think so.”

Part 1.5

Tagging @alicedopey because I promised I would.

[writingstoraes]

sparks 🎇

pairing: charles leclerc/fem!reader

type: written imagine (fluff)

word count: 1.7k, no warnings hehe

notes: once again this is a new idea even though i have a ton of drafts like my mind is a mess so i am not surprised ANYWAY . trying to get out of a writing slump so lmk what u guys think! ALSO apologies for any typos or grammatical errors this is not proofread at all 😆

about:  The few of the many times Charles’ heart skipped a beat because of you.

Movies have always portrayed “real” sparks so well. Sometimes it’s a scene where a guy sees the girl for the very first time during a first date and he freezes for a moment, the apparent electricity between two people when their hands almost touch and they panic for a little while, or the moment of suspense before a first kiss and the exhilaration after.

But Charles taught that was exactly what they were - movie scenes. He lingered on the thought that the moments where sparks flew and one’s heart skips a beat, those moments cannot be manufactured in real life. They stay in movies, books, in the arts; where they belong, somewhere where they were fiction.

Not until he experiences it first-hand, not until he meets you, the woman who held his heart in the palm of her hand.

He felt it the first time your hands ever touched. 

At first, he thought he was going crazy. There was no way he felt a current run through his skin the moment it came in contact with yours, but to this day, it’s a testament he swears on very seriously. 

You had been going out for a few weeks, several dates here and there. It was the exact point where you felt comfortable with each other, but only starting to be, hence why there were still evident boundaries present. The two of you were careful to not cross any, especially Charles. He’s cautious on establishing any physical touch, sure, he’s held your waist to guide you through bustling crowds and had slung his arm over your shoulder, but he hasn’t held your hand. At least, not yet. 

He had invited you to have dinner on his yacht, set at the perfect time where you can be of witness to the beautiful sunset over the sea. He says the food was nearly done, so he set up two comfortable chairs that gave you just the perfect view of the Monaco skies. The sun was setting and the golden sky formed a beautiful gradient with the blue hue that painted it beforehand. 

He turns his head to you, your arm resting on the chair’s handles, a tad bit preoccupied with the view in front of you. He keeps a smile to himself, enjoying the personalized view he had. For some reason, he feels the urge to hold your hand, or at least rest his on top of yours. He was hesitating and second-guessing, lifting his finger once in a while and then putting it back down when he decides not to push through. It didn’t help that there were minimal distance between your chair and his, and so he was fighting the urge to initiate contact and have you flee off. 

But his hesitant hand that kept on moving was something you grew to notice, and thanks to your knowledge of many, many romance movies, you assumed it meant he wanted to hold your hand but was too afraid to do it. You shove the thought of doing it first in the back of your head, overthinking that you might be wrong and he in fact did not want to hold your hand. 

Maybe it was something in the air, the quiet waves of the ocean, or just the fact that he really really liked you. 

He finally lifts his hand so he can reach yours, resting it softly on top of your hand. He lets out a relieved and contented sigh when he feels you ease into his touch. His heart raced faster, like it was screaming for help and begging to be let out of his chest.

As if that was not enough, he feels a current run through his arm and out of his fingertips the moment you grasp his hand and decide to interlock your fingers with his then setting it on top of the chair’s handle.  He swears he saw fireworks when he closed his eyes and his heart finally exploded out of his chest. He vows he can stand up and jump around out of joy, but he chooses to indulge in the moment and gives your hand a reassuring squeeze instead.

He had met you earlier in the season and he would be lying if he said he didn’t want you to see him in his element, doing what truly made him happy. That is, if his team does not proceed to ruin the entire weekend for him and his dedicated fans.

He invited you to watch a grand prix, in a track that he felt most comfortable. He was the perfect gentleman whe he extended the invite, letting you know you could always decline if you didn’t feel like going. You were together, in all terms to be considered, but he didn’t want to pressure you into finally making your appearance only because he knew how harsh it could get. He assures you that he will take care of everything and all you needed to do was come.

You were committed to attend the entire weekend, from free practice until the race itself. Even if Charles was quick to reassure you that you didn’t have to be there for everything, you only return a smile and tell him you wanted to be, which not surprisingly calmed his nerves. 

You knew people were going to stare, fans will take pictures, even the possibility of you making headlines. This was your first paddock appearance as his girlfriend, after all. It was inevitable, so you try to take your mind off of the pressure. Much to your nerves bothering you before you even got on the plane, you had been racking your brain on what to wear. You didn’t want to seem like you were trying too hard or too little. 

You finally settle on an outfit and your lips form a small smile as you looked in the mirror. It was nothing extravagant, only a black one-shoulder top and a black high-waisted pants that you paired with a red leather jacket. It’s not like you wanted what you wore to scream Ferrari, but you wanted to add a little touch, at least for Charles. 

“What do you think? I chose the red jacket for you,” you turn around to see Charles, seeing as you heard his footsteps earlier and knew he entered the room.

If he was being honest, he had seen you put on the outfit. He witnessed how you cocked your head to the side trying to see if it looks good. He sees the outfits laid on the bed, all with a touch of red, and he could feel butterflies swarm his stomach at the thought of you carefully planning out your outfits to include his team’s colors.

There it was again, the stupid sparks that he’s been getting ever since he met you. He curses himself for being a little non-functional when feels them, but he figures he has to get used to being blown away by everything you did. It feels magnetic, like he’s feeling actual static. You make him feel so much by just doing so little. 

He sees you twirling around in front of the mirror, smiling when you finally put on the red leather jacket, looking satisfied. 

He stops at his tracks, at least internally, and fails to respond for at least 10 seconds. 

“Do you not like it? I can always go change-”

“No,” he says, almost out of voice. “You look absolutely beautiful.” 

Where he was standing, he swears he sees fireworks erupt behind you.

Charles stands on the podium, feeling victorious and ecstatic he had clinched another win for his Formula 1 career. He looks fondly at the sea of crowd cheering for him, waving flags of his own country, Ferrari, and Italy. From where he stood he could see Fred’s big smile and the engineers celebrating, jumping up and down. 

The trophies had been awarded and the Monaco national anthem had finally played. He was wearing his Pirelli cap and completely drenched in champagne. He scans the crowd down the podium, hoping to get a glance of you. Earlier, he did tell you you didn’t have to witness the awarding personally should he win, because he didn’t want you to get in between many people and possibly get shoved or pushed. He assumes that you were in the garage, waiting for him, probably with a kiss and a hug. 

He leans over the makeshift railing of the stage, eyes still set on possibly sighting you. When he fails to find you, he finally comes down and there he sees you, just near the stairs going up to the podium with teary eyes and a wide smile. There you stood with hands clasped together, in awe of Charles who was standing in front of you. 

He feels his heart race yet again, having experienced the first time you ever greeted him after he claims P1 in a race. Even just by looking at you he feels his world shift, like its only goal was to pull him towards you, like the fireworks that took the skies earlier weren’t enough and he was having his own show. 

He jogs towards you, exhilirated and filled with adrenaline and pulls you into a tight embrace. His entire body twitches when you plant a soft kiss on his cheek, as if every fiber of his being had turned into putty at your touch. Everytime you engulf him in an embrace, kiss his cheek, or run your hands through his hair, he feels as if he’s inside his car going at least 320 kilometers per hour. He has no clue how you do it, how you possibly make him feel like he’s won a race every time he was with you;  as if you and his heart had a binding agreement. 

“Congratulations, mon champion du monde,” you say slowly and close to Charles so only he could hear, hoping you didn’t mess up the pronunciation, after having practiced it several times on the plane. 

Something tugs at his heartstrings, having been greeted by the knowledge that you sent out his well wishes in French, even though you didn’t speak the language and mentioned you were always scared you were going to say something wrong. But mostly because you called him your world champion, and that just sends him down a spiral.

“Thanks for being here, amour.” he replies, pulling you in again for another hug. 

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

tagging: @slytherheign, @honethatty12, @siovhanroy

notes: thanks for reading everyone <3 will try to post a 1.4k special soon but firstly thank u so much for all the love hehehe hope u guys r having the nicest day!

[alexiswritingstuff]

Okay, this was requested as a drabble, but I have recently discovered that I don't have the capacity to write short things so, I just made this into a full fic kinda thing... if that's alright. But regardless, I hope this at least covers what you wanted, and more importantly that you like this!!

Thank you for sending this in!!

Summary: Logan finds out that you got into an accident on your way home and rushes to find the hospital you had been taken to.

Warnings: alcohol, mentions and descriptions of car accidents, bruises and other injuries.

A/n: This is probably the quickest I have written for something, so be aware that there might be spelling errors and such. I do go over these, but can still miss them.

I'm also only getting started with writing for Logan, so please keep in mind that I might've not nailed his characteristics and such yet.

Enjoy!

This night had been one of the busiest this week. At least for Logan.

His instincts had brought him back to his favoured place. A bar. However, despite what you may be thinking, and what he had actually thought himself, it wasn’t just for a drink. He had just finished up with a few cage fights. 

Originally, it was only supposed to be one, you know? A singular round to make some money, and blow off a little steam, it was a win win situation.

Though, each time, after his opponent had inevitably been defeated, another person would enter the ring before he even had the chance to leave. It was repetitive, almost a little amusing due to the way they just kept offering themself up. Regardless of seeing the outcome of the previous fight. 

But he wasn’t exactly going to say no to some extra cash.

Now, Logan had found himself sitting at the actual bar, his usual rewards set in front of him, as well as stuffed at the bottom of his pockets. He held his cigar in his right hand, having been lit not that long ago, while the new puff of savoured smoke filtered out from between his lips. 

He did actually have a drink too. There was no way that Logan would walk into a bar without having at least one. And there it sat on one of the provided coasters. It was a whiskey, mostly empty, that had cooled the palm of his hand from how long he had held it.

At this point in the night, it was quiet. Most of the regulars, and general customers, had gone one by one, hunkering down for the night or just taking their gathering somewhere else. It left only a few people dotted throughout the array of tables behind him, yet there was still a constant chatter that layered the room. 

And a lot of which he could hear unfortunately well. 

The sources were always the same in places like these. You had that group of boisterous men bragging about their latest hunt or a fight they had gotten into, and supposedly won. And those people who were meeting up for the first time, at least in a while, that had themselves stuck in this unending loop of useless small talk.

Logan sighed, bringing that faithful lowball glass of liquid gold back up to his lips so the remnants could be finally drained. 

“Another?”

He peered over the rim, gaze locking onto the bartender that had creeped up at some point. Logan nodded. They always seemed to appear at the right times, “One more,” He set down the glass in front of him, savouring the taste layering his mouth even if he wasn’t going to go long without another sip.

The bartender was off within seconds, moving to the array of different bottles to find the same one as before.

Eventually, Logan’s eyes ended up travelling to the TV as he waited, hung in the corner to his left. It was just set on the local news, as it wasn't the season for sports anymore. He could barely even hear the reporter due the bustling sounds around him, so he only focused on the background. 

At first, it seemed to be about the weather, a warning for the locals of the storm about to pass, then they were talking about a raise in prices, or something. Not that surprising. And then there was this picture of a car. It looked like it had been totalled, the front of it almost completely unrecognisable as a vehicle in the first place–

Logan’s phone suddenly rang through the chorus of the surrounding voices, snapping him out of a daze as he started patting at his jacket until he remembered where the thing had been put.

This time he practically grunted as he leaned to the side a bit, placing the cigar between his teeth so that his other hand was now free. He slotted it into the suspected leather pocket, digging around for a few seconds before his fingers had finally located the buzzing device. 

He pulled it out, flicked the front of it open, and cast his eyes upon the screen. He blinked. An unknown number.

Initially, Logan was about to snap it closed. He couldn’t be bothered with dealing with something like that right now, especially when he was trying to relax for the night. I mean, he barely used the thing anyway. 

But then he started to recognise the digits. 

He had seen it somewhere before, most likely around town. He distinctly remembered it being at the bottom of some poster they had spread on a few of the local buildings and shops. He just couldn’t remind himself of its purpose. 

So, intrigued, Logan yanked the cigar from his mouth, pressing that needed button before the phone was brought to his ear, “Hello?”

“Hi, there, sorry to call you at this time, but are you… a Mr. Howlett?”

He paused, eyes following the bartender who had reappeared with his refill. Logan cleared his throat, leaning further onto the counter as his eyebrows furrowed, “Yeah– Who is this? How did you get my number?”

“Your name was listed as an emergency contact for Y/n L/n, is that not correct?” the woman questioned, her voice sounding almost automated as she looked over the paperwork. “Whoa, whoa, emergency contact– what is this about?” Logan demanded, on the verge of choking on his spit. “Sir–”

“Look, lady, is this some kind of stupid joke, or something, because I am not…” The sentence he readied had lost its way. The words faded from his mouth one by one which had his voice closely following. 

The posters. They all held something in common, a specific icon that could only really be correlated with one thing.

A hospital.

“Is this… is this about that accident?” Logan’s voice was still barely there, like that was the last thing he wanted to say, but he had to know. He needed to, “Sir, if you could please let me speak–”

“What building are you? I need the location. Now.” He started pushing himself off of the wooden stool, his cigar being discarded somewhere in the process. And for once, he couldn’t care less. “Sir, I can not provide that information if you keep interrupting me.” the woman spoke, her tone both a little condescending and understanding of the sudden panic. 

But Logan had already taken the phone away from his ear. He was fumbling through his pocket again, trying to scrounge up a few bucks from his winnings, before throwing it on the bar top without even looking at the amount. 

And then he turned on his heel, heading straight for the door. 

“Sir?”

~~~

You were sitting upright in the bed your body had unconsciously claimed. It was how you were set up, cursed to simply sit in the pain even if it was the most relieving position. 

Your lazy eyes were on the conveniently placed TV, desperately watching whatever the channels had to provide to dull out the sound of various beeps emitting from machines, that you probably couldn’t even name if you tried.

But it wasn’t working. 

So, still remaining in the same limp position, you attempted to find the remote. It had been dropped somewhere on the mattress to your side, which was where the random patting began. Until, your hand smacked onto the back of it.

After taking in a deep breath, you raised the remote so that it pointed right at the screen, pressing the button right at the top. The screen went black within seconds.

You let the device fall out of your grasp, and let your body sink a little further into the pillows that kept you sat right, but not without causing a grunt to escape your throat when it had inevitably pinched your side in the process.

The obtained injuries weren’t exactly severe. In all honesty, you had actually been quite lucky in the end. Though that didn’t mean you got off easy. 

I mean, there was still a strain when doing the simplest of movements on your left side. And the doctor had told you a list of things you had to do, even after you got released, like: don’t exert yourself too much, make sure to get lots of rest, keep the weight off of your left leg but also stretch it as much as possible in order to maintain the muscle mass.

But it wasn't the worst… right?

You were staring up at the ceiling, ignoring the tension building between your shoulders and neck. It was so bland and boringly white. This was what was going to be accompanying you for the rest of your stay. Every day and every morning.

It didn’t help that you already hated hospitals, not just for the dull colour choices. It was the vibe itself. Might also be due to the fact that since you had first woken up, you had been poked and prodded by people who had only introduced themselves right then and there. 

Even if they were just trying to help, it felt like you were stuck there against your will. Which wasn’t exactly wrong.

But before you could continue that though further, however, out of nowhere, the door suddenly swung right open. 

It was fast, done with such force that it hit into the wall behind and bounced right back. It almost had you jumping out of your skin, but the most you did was groan in pain. 

“Oh, shit.”

“Thanks.” you muttered, screwing your eyes shut before glaring in the direction of the intruder… only to ease up about a second later. “Logan.”

His movements were sort of rushed at first, dropping something that sounded heavy on the floor below. But he then stopped for a moment, both his head and his eyes wildly searching around for something until he went towards the chair in the corner. 

He picked it up, placed it to the right side of your bed, and took a seat before scooting it even closer. It had his knees practically banging right into the bed frame, “What the hell happened? I thought you weren't driving home?” He grabbed your hand, hesitant to move it anywhere just in case it would hurt.

“I wasn’t, I got a cab. I got impatient, which… serves me right— but it doesn’t matter, I’m fine. It was just a little accident,” you tried to ensure, even squeezing the back of his hand, but his eyebrows only furrowed further.

“A little accident? You sure?” Logan repeated, leaning his body forward a bit so his gaze could reach the other side of your face. And then he practically grimaced, “That doesn’t seem little to me, bub.”

In your defence, you hadn’t exactly had the chance to see yourself in a mirror all day. You had no idea what you looked like, nor the extent of it. But the feeling of it could allow an educated guess. It was most likely bruised. 

Heck, that entire side of your body was probably bruised.

“What happened?” he questioned, the mixture of his tone and his expression making you stifle a sigh. “Can you stop looking at me like I almost died? Please? It was just some jerk, okay?”

“They ran a red light while we were crossing and hit the car-- I just happened to be on that side, that’s it.” Logan stared right at you, the corner of his mouth sort of twitching as he exhaled rather sharply. 

You shook his hand a little, “Look, it doesn't matter, okay? I'm fine.” you insisted, trying to find something to lighten the mood. “Fine?” he repeated, gaze narrowing, “Y/n, you were just hit by a goddamn car-- And how was I supposed to know that, huh? I had to get a call from this damn hospital.”

“Do you… Do you know how terrifying it sounded when they called, asking if I was the correct emergency contact?” He shook his head for a moment, the anger bubbling within him starting to dwindle into something else, “There was…” 

“There was another wreck somewhere, I saw it on the news, and it was– it was bad.” Logan started up again, his voice almost hesitant as he spoke, “Very bad, I mean, the front of the car was just smashed, so, I thought it was... I-- I thought that you…”

He cleared his throat, the grip on your hand loosening as he pressed his lips together. 

“Oh, Logan,” you breathed out, but didn’t know what else to do. You just sort of looked at him for a moment. His expression was just stuck between this guilt and anger. Something that was all too common when it came to him.

You squeezed his hand again, this time more firm, and you could see his attempt to smile. But it just wouldn’t hold. “I’m sorry I wasn’t fast enough.”

“Hey.” 

“You know, I-- I would've picked you up, I would’ve been there, but the cell service and the traffic, it just-- That's why I couldn't even get here faster, and–”

“Hey, look at me.” you called louder, more stern. Logan’s mouth sort of wavered a little, unsure of what to do with itself, until it snapped shut. “None of that matters.” You held his gaze, your eyes sincere yet serious at the same time. 

“I’m just glad that you’re here now.”

It seemed to take a bit for the words to really settle in Logan’s head. You could practically see the way the cogs turned. 

Truthfully, no matter what you said, that expression would probably still remain on his face in one way or another. He would still think the same things. But he still managed a sigh, relaxing his shoulders in the process.

“I, uh, brought a few things up.” he informed slowly, starting to lean over the armrest in a way that still kept your hand in his. He was reaching for something, “I'm not sure if I made the right choices, but there's, uh... some clothes.”

“Just a few things I had in the car-- You don't have to wear them.” Logan added on, the sound of something bag-like dragging along the floor until he could sit up straight. “There’s also some snacks.” He paused, meeting your eyes once again, “I don't know if you're allowed them or not, but, I just-- I just sort of grabbed them.”

“You didn’t… have to do all that.” You felt almost guilty. He did all that, just for you to make him angry pretty much the second he got here. It didn’t seem fair. Logan merely shrugged. “Too late.”

This was the first time his face had lightened up, at least a little bit. 

The tension wasn’t pulling at his brows, nor the skin around his mouth. It was sort of freeing. He fixated on a point of your face for a moment, and then it lowered. It trailed down your cheek before landing on the mattress.

He shifted in his chair, looking at you once again. “Can I?” Logan asked, gesturing towards the bed. “Of course,” you insisted pretty much instantaneously. But you saw that glint in his eyes. The concern. Caution. 

“It’s only my left side that’s injured, come up.” you ensured with a nod. And after about a beat, Logan eventually complied, letting go of your hand so he could push himself up from the chair. Still with notable hesitance.

He ended up on the edge of the mattress, his thigh just a few inches away from leaning against yours just in case. You could feel the bed sinking under his weight. It was almost comforting. Reminding you of home. The countless nights where Logan would get home late and just sit beside you for a bit, thinking you were fast asleep. 

“Let me take a look at you." he practically whispered. The words weren't a command, nor a question. There wasn’t even a real purpose as he reached forward anyway. 

The side of his finger landed just beneath your chin. He tilted your head to the side ever so slightly, so that it wouldn't put a strain on anything. And you just let him. 

Now, his eyes could properly cast upon the bruises once again, looking over what was probably a bunch of odd discoloration, a few bumps, and maybe even a few scratches. 

Your left arm was exposed too, due to having a t-shirt on. And that one must’ve been the worst according to the face Logan suddenly made, even if he tried to conceal it. I mean, it did take most of the blow, as well as your leg. 

But he didn’t want to think about what the rest looked like.

“I wish I could heal it.” Logan’s voice was sudden. It was low, and barely even there as if it had forced its way through his lips. He looked back at you, that concern washing through his features as his finger grazed over the skin under your chin. 

You shook your head lightly, letting a smile curl onto your lips. “That would be a little overpowered, don't you think?” you pointed out, even feigning a little concern of your own as you placed your hand on his cheek, “If you could heal yourself, and others?”

It was almost instinctive the way Logan leaned into it within about a second. He lightly grasped your arm, turning his head against your palm just so he could press a kiss onto your wrist. “Would be worth it, so you didn't have to stay in a place like this.”

You huffed a laugh, drinking in that look in his eyes before your hand moved from his cheek to settle at the back of his head. You pushed it forward lightly, guiding the man until he got the message and continued the movement himself.

Soon he had landed on your chest, your arm wrapping around him in the process. There was this sigh that flowed out of Logan’s mouth when your fingers started moving through his hair. It had the rest of his body practically deflating against your side. 

“Thank you for coming.” you whispered at this point, looking down at the man as he grasped onto the arm that held him, issuing it a firm but gentle squeeze. “I always will, bub.” Warm air surrounded the skin when he exhaled again, longer this time. “Always will.”

Your head tilted back after a moment, officially resting against the pillow that was there for that very purpose. It still hurt a little. There was a slight pain that mostly panged between the bottom of your neck and your shoulder. But it was worth it. All of it. 

Your eyes remained closed, your fingers sifting through Logan’s hair in slow patterns. You took in a deep breath. “My hero.”

The man on top of you snorted. Breathing out a muffled response that you couldn’t even hear as  it had been muffled, concealed by the act of burying his face into your shirt.

Finally, for the first time in hours, you could actually relax. 

[coolshadowtwins]

LiuShen Fanficion Round Up! Lets Go!

This took way too long! These are hard to do on mobile. Thank you to everyone who gave recs! If anyone recommends any other LiuShen/BingLiuShen fics, I’ll add them to this later!

I might have missed some that people have recommended, so tell me if I did!

The clueless fairy and his knight by sailorstar165

Summary:

Yet another filler quest from the pesky System in his head leads Shen Qingqiu to a heavily damaged heavenly raiment that inconceivably now belongs to him.

This was impossible for two reasons.

One, Lunar Fairies are female only. So sayeth the "Great Master" Airplane Shooting Toward the Sky when he wrote the abomination that was PIDW, and last he'd checked, Shen Qingqiu was very much male.

Two, Shen Qingqiu is just some one-dimensional scum villain! He was a garbage person for the sake of villainy! He shouldn't have a tragic backstory and missing family and some fated role to play in this universe!

When the System lured him in with the promise of hidden lore, Shen Yuan wasn't signing up for this!

Cultivate: slow life on a monster infested mountain by NeonGhostCat

Summary:

When trying to transfer Shen Yuan from the real world to Proud Immortal Demon Way, the System runs into an error. The transfer is not complete.

Shen Yuan is dropped off at the foot of a mountain aware of two things: he's in the story, and the Shen Qingqiu of this world is not only aware but thinks he tried to possess his body — and he's PISSED. Shen Yuan tries to opt out and live a simple life on what locals tell him is a monster-infested mountain no one in their right mind would bother with.

Sounds like a great hiding spot!

(TL;DR: Stardew Scum Villain Valley Mountain.)

Reincarnation not desired, transmigration not required by Pegunicent

Summary:

Shen Yuan dies. Then he decides to finally get a life.

Star crossed wires by silversinnbees

Summary:

Shen Yuan’s family has been pestering him to get an android for months now. His health had recently taken a dip that landed him in the hospital for a bit and an ultimatum had been issued: either Shen Yuan goes into some kind of assisted living facility (which, no), or he purchases an android fitted out with caretaking programming to live with him. He had griped about it for the longest time, not liking either option given to him but he ultimately decided that an android in his living space was a better option than essentially living in a hospital.

 

Shen Yuan brings an android named Liu Qingge into his life to take care of him. He never could have expected that the android was capable of so much more than just caring.

Metagaming by esama

Summary:

[Self-Saving System Activated! You will be now returned to your original starting position.]

Shen Qingqiu dies and gets a second chance and decides to try a different approach. (Note: this does a many pairings, not just LiuShen!)

Meet Cute (these dorks) by Mayvn

Summary:

The instant he turned to dash into the fight, Liu Qingge froze as he saw Not Shen Qingqiu standing coolly over one unconscious thug, guqin in both hands and still in a pose that clearly showed he had, in fact, just bludgeoned someone with the end of his guqin. Not Shen Qingqiu smirked and tilted his head back cockily.
---
LQG finds SY running away from a sticky situation and brings him back to Cang Qiong in hopes that he can keep the man from getting himself mugged. SY is just relieved he doesn’t have to pretend to be a girl anymore.

Blanket Forts and Rainy Days by NeonGhostCat

Summary:

Mere weeks after the Demon Invasion incident, Liu Qingge visits Qing Jing Peak to discover the disciples hard at work building a monstrosity of blankets and bamboo. Like the students, he becomes inexplicably drawn into Shen Qingqiu's orbit in spite of himself.

Or: How Shen Yuan causes chaos under the flimsy guise of education and Liu Qingge heroically tries to keep himself oblivious to the state of his own squishy heart.

the stages of [...] by tennssi

Summary:

Despite all efforts, Luo Binghe died before the abyss event, and the only thing that saved Shen Qingqiu from being transported back to his world were the points he painstakingly accumulated to prevent Binghe’s blackening.

Stuck in a state of mourning that he himself is unaware of, he finds an unexpected comfort from a certain Peak Lord, who despite everything, never left his side since.

Sharing is Caring by celardor

Summary:

“Liu Qingge! I told you not to drink the water!” Shen Qingqiu shouts. His thoughts are a panicked whirl- is it going to have the same effect that it did in the original story?

 

Liu Qingge just stares at him in shock.

 

Shen Qingqiu’s question is answered when he suddenly hears Liu Qingge’s voice. Liu Qingge isn’t speaking, though- his mouth never moves. No, Shen Qingiu is hearing Liu Qingge’s voice inside his head.

Liu Qingge’s voice says, “Holy shit. I can see his nipples.”

 

They both stare at each other in horror. At that moment, there’s a happy little ding and a System notification pops up in front of him.

 

[Congratulations! Bonus mission activated: Sharing is Caring!]

 

“Fuck,” Shen Qingqiu says, with feeling.

 

*************

Shen Qingqiu and Liu Qingge accidentally trigger a wife plot that leads to them forming a telepathic connection.

(This one is a favorite of mine! I’ve re-read it multiple times, and it has an inprogress sequel.)

The Guardian Ghost and the Bookish Fairy by NeonGhostCat

Summary:

Liu Qingge survives his qi deviation… in the form of a ghost. Having nothing better to do and no desire to be exorcised, he follows after Shen Qingqiu and decides to haunt him for the hell of it.

It doesn't take him long to realize that not only is this not the Shen Qingqiu he knew, but there is more going on. And apparently Shang Qinghua is involved too? Ah! He understands now — they're immortal fairies given the mission to thwart a dark prophecy of the sect's collapse. Well. He can help with that. And how better than to protect the bookish fairy that's taken his old foe's place?

There are no ulterior motives. Why think such foolish things???

TL;DR: What happens if SY transmigrates just a little too late?

Story marked "Chooses Not To Warn" purely because LQG becomes a ghost in the first scene and I didn't want to agonize over whether that required a MCD warning or not. If it does to you, this is your heads up! No other archive warnings are necessary.

Moments by hummingbirdhum

Summary:

Liu Qingge never paid Shen Qingqiu attention unless he had to, before. But things are different now, and in a million little ways, this new Shen Qingqiu keeps managing to make him...feel things. Things he's not used to.

Basically SQQ keeps being attractive and adorable without realizing it and eventually it's going to build up to the point LQG has to do something about it.

Updates will be sporadic in length and in upload date. Starts pre-abyss.

every memory of you by beta_babelfish

Summary:

Before Shen Qingqiu can voice his agreement and his opinion that they are doing an excellent job of getting things done, a knock sounds at the door. The other Shen Qingqiu sighs heavily, and stands. “You ought to hide, I suppose,” he says. “That’ll be Yue Qingyuan.”


“Oh? Is there some business with the sect?” Shen Qingqiu asks, immediately curious.


“Oh, he’s here to clear my meridians, as usual,” Other-Him says nonchalantly.


Shen Qingqiu blinks. He blinks again. “As usual?” he says after what feels like an eternity, voice sounding strange and an unsettled feeling churning in his gut. “What about Liu-shidi?”


Other-Him looks at him blankly for a moment. “Who?”

Or, Shen Qingqiu is wifeplotted into an alternate timeline in which he did not save Liu Qingge.

Fowl Weather Friends by Koiichaser_lucorinth

Summary:

Shen Qingqiu had always felt a small disconnect from his wings, coming from a world that didn’t have them. Like the opposite of phantom-limb syndrome. Things that were a part of him, yet felt separate.

They were cool in concept, yet gave him no end of trouble.

Like old wounds, they ached and cramped in bad weather or exhaustion. As if the Original Goods had gotten them broken in places multiple times before healing away the physical signs as he cultivated.

Also, they were just annoying!

They required so much upkeep! Feathers constantly shed and had to grow in, which was itchy as hell. When they grew in, they did so with sheaths you had to scratch off as they emerged, but you couldn’t scratch too hard because OOPS, was that a blood feather? If it was, congrats on just breaking open what was basically a straw directly to a vein. Better pluck it all out from the root if you ever want it to stop bleeding! And then you had to heal the gaping hole the correct way, or the next pinfeather might not grow back correctly.

…Shen Qingqiu might not have devoted his patience.

If he were to be honest, he might have slipped up a little in regards to the care of his wings as of late.

I Wish You Were My Husband by Feynite

Summary:

AU based on The Dreamer in the Spring Boudoir (familiarity with that story's not required).

Wherein Shen Yuan transmigrates into a harem intrigues romance novel (gay edition), Yue Qingyuan really fucks up, Liu Qingge is not suitable for his job, and no one even remotely sees Luo Binghe coming. (Note: this is maybe a stretch of LiuShen? But I think it counts lol)

You Take Me By the Heart When You Take Me By the Hand by UnhookedStar

Summary:

Liu Qingge knows that as smart as he is, Shen Yuan is often startlingly oblivious to the implications of his actions. Liu Qingge has learned this the hard way after years of obsessing over countless overly familiar casual gestures. However, while Shen Yuan's sense of personal space has always been practically nonexistent, he's been even more sticky than usual lately. He keeps casually touching Liu Qingge; brushing his hair out of his face, randomly reaching out and patting his head, leaning in close to say something and never leaning away again. The other day, Shen Yuan had held his hand. In public.

 

Or, Liu Qingge has no idea why Shen Yuan has been acting so much more familiar with him lately, but all of this casual touching is starting to push at the limits of his self control.

Meanwhile, Shen Yuan just wants to know when his boyfriend is finally going to kiss him.

The Journey Home, The Hollow Victory by MonroeKnox

The journey back to Cang Qiong Mountain seemed longer than it’s ever been.

 

Unlike so many times before, peak lord Liu Qingge was returning victorious.

But, in his heart, there was nothing to celebrate.

 

Liu Qingge could not outrun his grief forever. Especially not when he has finally brought Shen Qingqiu home.

Misery by Calamity Butterfly

Summary:

"With shaking fingers, he traces the planes of what will be Shen Qingqiu’s face. He brushes dirt from the body’s hair, rearranges its arms so it looks more peaceful, wipes a smear of mud from its chest. The body doesn’t exactly look dead but isn’t currently breathing and doesn’t have the… seeming of life. Shang Qinghua insisted that Shen Qingqiu’s soul was not yet fully inside the body, but Liu Qingge is sure he can sense Shen Qingqiu’s presence in the clearing, if not in the body. He hopes Shen Qingqiu is able to be aware of and comforted by, at some level, the knowledge that his body is safe and being cared for by one who cares for him very deeply."

A very Not Ok Liu Qingge finds Shen Qingqiu's plant body before Shen Qingqiu wakes up. He tends and cares for it and keeps it safe.

Another Time, Another Place by Mayvn

Summary:

Another Luo Binghe suddenly appeared and Liu Qingge died trying to save Shen Qingqiu, only to find himself waking up in a strange room full of strange things.


Losing his ‘apartment’? Cheating girlfriend kicking him to the curb for a rich ‘fuerdai’ after stealing all his money? What’s a ‘dogblood drama’? He doesn’t care about any of that! What happened to Shen Qingqiu?!


---


Basically, LQG gets transmigrated into a dogblood drama, but just wants to cultivate and live happily with SY. If only these damn characters would get a hint and stop trying to drag him back into the plot!
Meanwhile, after being forcefully repatriated, SY uses all his superpowers as an avid trashy web-novel reader to try to predict what will happen and protect LQG from all the shitty tropes while also dealing with the realization that there’s been cultivation in the modern world this whole time!

Not to mention the familiar-but-different faces popping up here and there…

rsvp me to world's end by beta_babelfish

Summary:

FUTURE Shen Qingqiu [FSQQ] 4130 HOURS FROM NOW opened a memo on board WELCOME TO HELL

FSQQ: OKAY. First things first if the term “peerless cucumber” means anything to you you’re in the right place. If it doesn’t then you’re gonna be banned immediately. thanks
PAST Shen Qingqiu [PSQQ] 45 HOURS AGO responded to the memo
PSQQ: what the hell is a peerless cucumber
FSQQ banned PSQQ from responding to the memo
FSQQ: what did i just FUCKING say!!!!
FSQQ: anyway
FSQQ: you know that shitty webcomic. Proud Immortal Demon's Game? about that game called SBURB that causes the end of the world and the creation of a new one with frogs or whatever. luo binghe is there, he rips apart paradox space and uses his fuckin insane powers to take over like three different universes and all that?
FSQQ: you’re in it now
FSQQ: have fun
CURRENT Shen Qingqiu [CSQQ] RIGHT NOW responded to the memo
CSQQ: WHAT THE FUCK

Or, the Scum Villain/Homestuck crossover that absolutely nobody asked for, but you're getting anyway

A Night on Cang Qiong Mountain by NeonGhostCat

Summary:

Shen Qingqiu frets over the upcoming Endless Abyss event. Wanting to figure out a way to give his little white sheep fond memories of his time at the sect to hold onto in the Abyss, he remembers Halloween, something he looked forward to each year in his previous life (even if it was only through game events). System steps in to offer him a Limited Time Event of his own.

These are stories based off of the same premise that can be read stand-alone if preferred. Technically you could read them in any order.

NSFW

We'll survive, you and I by rinsled05

Summary:

On the bed, back against Liu Qingge’s chest, Shen Yuan is grinding his ass against him, soft, breathless sounds slipping out of his mouth.

Liu Qingge's skin buzzes with need, and he wants to put his hands on Shen Yuan’s hips, feel them shift under his palms. Wants to hear Shen Yuan whimper as he matches Shen Yuan’s pace and rocks back. To suck and nip at Shen Yuan’s skin, leaving bruises in the shape of his mouth.

But he's too aware of Luo Binghe's presence on the other side of the bed, the curl of his arm around Shen Yuan’s waist. Liu Qingge can’t tell if Shen Yuan is awake, either, if he even realizes that the body spooned against him belongs to Liu Qingge. It’s entirely possible that he thinks it’s—

“Qingge,” Shen Yuan whines.

Oh.


In which Liu Qingge fights to keep himself and Shen Yuan alive in a zombie apocalypse, knowing that Shen Yuan would have married Luo Binghe if not for, well, zombies. Liushen main, with hints of Bingqiu, Bingliu, and eventual Bingliushen.

the horns of a dilemma by lavenderandrue

Summary:

Shen Qingqiu doses himself with truth mushrooms on purpose and gets more than he bargained for.

returned tenfold by lavenderandrue

Summary:

“We were thinking perhaps a little game of sorts? An exchange of winnings and gifts?”
Bristling immediately, Liu Qingge draws himself up ramrod straight. “I have no wish to play your games, demon,” he spits. Shen Qingqiu makes some kind of small noise behind his fan, perhaps a laugh or a sound of dismay, and Liu Qingge tries to ignore the way the tips of his ears heat up.
“Actually, Shidi, it was this shixiong’s idea.” Shen Qingqiu uncrosses his legs and sits a little straighter on his throne, which is far more ornate than Luo Binghe’s. The solemn dignity is marred a little by the pile of cushions spilling out from underneath his robes and the bag of melon seeds resting on the arm.
Liu Qingge’s chest aches faintly. This is fairly normal when he’s around Shen Qingqiu, so he ignores it.

Dual Cultivation by Acernor

Summary:

“Shizun said I made you feel so good,” Luo Binghe says, “that I could fuck you any time I wanted.”

Liu Qingge stops breathing for a second.

“What,” he blurts out.

Shen Qingqiu could tell he’d been into it?!

[pascaloverx]

BORN TO DIE

Summary: In a tense political setting, a Targaryen bastard working as a prostitute is summoned by Prince Aemond to the Red Keep. Aemond wants her to approach his dragon, Vhagar, as a test of her worth. Although he plans for her to claim another dragon in the future, her immediate challenge is to survive Prince Aemond demands while trying to stay alive.

Author’s Note: This work is set in the world created by George R.R. Martin, as depicted in his book Fire & Blood, and none of the characters belong to me. The story will follow some events from the series House of the Dragon (2022), but with changes to fit the fanfiction narrative. Therefore, it will not adhere strictly to the series' storyline. This fanfiction is a work of fiction and may contain inappropriate language, adult content, and violence. Readers be warned. I hope you enjoy the story and interact with it. I apologize if there are any errors in the High Valyrian sections; I used a translator and am unsure of its accuracy. Thank you and happy reading.

Warning: This chapter will contain violence, as well as inappropriate language and adult sexual content. Minors should not read or interact with this chapter or this fanfic.

TWO

THREE (+18)

The horse continues its steady trot, the rhythmic sound of hooves filling the silence between you and Prince Aemond. Since you had declared that only he or a dragon could take your life, neither of you had spoken. The images of the ragged commoners still haunt your mind, the blood of one of them staining your skin. The scent lingers, almost as though it corrodes your very soul—if there is any soul left to corrode. Aemond, in contrast, remains unnervingly calm, as if such violence is second nature to him.

"When I was younger, my mother taught me to always adapt. Kings and princes like you were not born to be contradicted by people like me. My mother was a woman who adapted well, and that is how I was conceived. The man who fathered me sought a replacement for his dead wife, and my mother shaped herself to meet his desires." You can sense that your words mean little to Aemond Targaryen, yet for a fleeting moment, you feel compelled to share them. Perhaps it is the honesty, or perhaps the looming realization that this might be your final journey—the last stretch before the war claims you. It has never been clearer that your end is near, whether by the hand of a one-eyed prince or the flames of a dragon. The manner of death is inconsequential now; it is merely a matter of time.

"My silence must have been misunderstood by you, gundjabo. I have no need to hear your lamentations." The prince’s low voice carries a hint of irritation as he lets out a frustrated grunt. You exhale sharply, frustration building within you. There is something dreadful about being condemned to a war that is not your own, dragged along by a man indifferent to your very existence—one who does not even deign to bed you.

"Unless you plan to kill me for speaking, I shall continue. These may very well be my final words, for all I know," you say, your tone steady but defiant. "As I was saying, I always knew my fate would lead me to the brothel, as a whore. But when the man who fathered me came to weep over his legitimate children, I discovered I was a bastard of someone of importance. And that I had a sibling who bore a resemblance to me. That is why I speak High Valyrian, for I was meant to be the perfect replacement for someone’s trueborn daughter. Tell me, Your Highness, how did you know I was a bastard?"

Your boldness stems from a desire to have your story heard, to have someone in this world know the truth of your existence. And you are certain Aemond will not kill you—not before delivering you to the dragon.

"What gave you the notion that I would be inclined to engage in conversation with you? Know your place, Y/N," Aemond snaps, turning toward you with a sudden, fierce movement, as if poised to strike. His single eye fixes on you, sharp and unwavering, and there’s a dark satisfaction in the way he watches your reaction. He seems to revel in the way his abruptness unsettles you, savoring the fear or hesitation he provokes.

"What led you to believe that I would be disposed to engage in conversation with you? Understand your position, Y/N." Príncipe Aemond pivots abruptly to face you, his single eye piercingly fixed upon your countenance. His demeanor is one of restrained menace, and he appears to take a grim satisfaction in the disquiet he has stirred within you.

The horse comes to an abrupt halt, causing your body to jostle against Prince Aemond Targaryen, who seems increasingly agitated. He dismounts with a brisk movement, signaling the end of your journey by horse. Before you lies a solitary figure, stationed by a boat, standing guard with an air of grim duty.

"My esteemed Prince Aemond, I present to you what you have requested. Should you follow the prescribed route, you shall arrive at the location where it has been reported that your future dragon was sighted. I wish you a successful and prosperous journey." The peculiar man, clearly seeking to flatter the Prince, elicits a noticeable expression of disdain from him.

"Then your presence here is no longer required. I suggest you keep your lips sealed regarding my business here. Additionally, worm, should I fail to find the 'safe' path to the dragon, be aware that you will face a most unfavorable encounter with Vhagar." You are unable to observe their exchange directly, as you are preoccupied with dismounting the horse, given that Aemond appears to be indifferent to your presence at the moment.

"My prince, I would never lead you into an ambush. I wish you a successful journey and hope you acquire the dragon," you finally manage to dismount from the horse, nearly falling onto the ground. The peculiar man watches you with a smile, seemingly amused by your misfortune, while Aemond, though visibly irritated, remains unyielding. His irritation persists even in moments when you are not actively provoking him.

"Rise from the ground at once, gundjabo. If this is your feeble attempt to gain my pity, you are failing. And as for you, Larys, you should have already removed yourself from my sight. Of course, if you hold no regard for your life, you are welcome to remain." Prince Aemond's voice was laced with irritation, the impatience in his tone unmistakable. The peculiar man, now silent, awkwardly retrieves the horse you both arrived on and departs clumsily, leaving you and the prince alone once more.

Yet you remain on the ground, lost in contemplation of your wretched circumstances, bound to the will of Prince Aemond. Your gaze drifts away from him, drawn instead to the waters that flank the path to Dragonstone. The sight of the water, so free and fluid, captivates you. It seems to beckon, offering a silent sanctuary, a world away from your current plight. It had been so long since you had been near the water, and now it appeared almost sacred, a reminder of peace in a life devoid of it. Though you hear Prince Aemond’s voice, it feels distant, as if muffled by the pull of the serene waters. In this brief moment, it is as though you and the water are the only things that exist. You rise, however; not to obey any command but to delight in the water. Slowly, you begin to strip away your clothing, letting the fabric fall carelessly to the ground as the cool wind brushes against your bare skin. A deep sense of freedom, unfamiliar and intoxicating, washes over you. For the first time in what feels like an eternity, you taste the sweetness of liberation, a brief escape from the chains of your fate.

It does not matter that Prince Aemond will see you in such a vulnerable state, nor does it concern you that his inevitable anger will rise once more. His threats of death hold no sway over you in this moment. As the last of your garments slips from your body, you stand, unburdened and untamed, indifferent to the consequences. For now, you are part of the wind, the water, the air—untouchable by any prince or king.

"What do you think you are doing? I did not bring you here to gaze upon your nakedness, nor for any such entanglements," Prince Aemond snaps, his voice sharp as steel, while his hand grips your arm, halting your movement toward the water. His touch, firm yet restrained, feels different for the first time—no longer cold or harsh, but strangely… grounding. Though his grasp is strong, it does not hurt you. You turn your gaze to him, your lips curling into a relaxed, almost defiant smile. The tension between you, once a barrier, now seems to shift subtly, as though something unspoken lingers between the two of you.

"It seems, Your Highness, that you are under the mistaken impression that I have any interest in such entanglements with you," you say, your voice soft yet pointed, as you step closer to him. "If it appears otherwise, you are gravely mistaken. You have made it abundantly clear that you are here as my possessor, not my lover. But the blood on my skin reeks of decay, and if I am to face a fatal destiny by your hand or another, at the very least, grant me the decency of being cleansed for it. I do not believe I am asking for much." Though your tone is measured, almost submissive, your gaze remains sharp, as if daring him to challenge your words. Yet beneath that facade of defiance, there is a clear falsehood—you wouldn't mind if he took you here, on the cold, unforgiving ground. The threatening look in your eyes, too, is a lie; in truth, at this moment, you pose as much danger to the prince as a child would. You know this, and so does he.

"Ao kostagon jikagon, gundjabo," Prince Aemond finally responds, his voice carrying an edge of authority. As he speaks, you offer him a faint, resigned smile. Without another word, you run toward the water. The cold is biting, eliciting a drawn-out gasp as you immerse yourself, but as you cleanse your body with the water, you feel the burdens you have been carrying begin to lift. When you look at Prince Aemond, he is naked; coming towards you. For a moment you can't believe what you're about to witness. Or rather do.

"Your excitement at my presence here is a disgrace to yourself. I have no intention of expanding the bonds of our relationship, gundjabo." Prince Aemond speaks as he steps closer and closer. He certainly wants to dispel any lust that is taking hold of you.

"Tell me, Your Highness, are you so afraid of fucking me?" In moments of the prince's presence, the cold that was taking over your body turned into heat; burning deep within your soul. The prince smiles mischievously as if he liked her question; even if in a diaceous way. Your gaze then shifts to Prince Aemond's member, which appears to be quite erect for a cock that isn't considering entering you.

"If you must know, there has been no fear under me for some time. What I have, is caution. You think I don't notice that your desire for me lies in the need to manipulate me," Aemond approaches you quickly, his hand then roaming over your face, almost as if he was scrutinizing you. "A whore like you must be as thirsty as any other to have the privilege of being taken by me," Prince Aemond stands directly behind you, his cock lightly touching your ass. As his hand moves from a light, affectionate touch to your face and moves downwards, touching your neck with a certain dexterity, in a firm way.

"Dear prince, my intentions towards you are the most pleasurable possible. What risk can a mere prostitute bring you?" What you say comes out of your mouth like a whisper, as half of your concentration has already been lost. Instinctively you turn around, still feeling Aemond's hand on your neck. A drawn-out moan is released by Prince Aemond, who holds your breasts tightly with both hands.

"Say, gundjabo, would you like me to take you here, in the middle of the water? That I would use these hands to fuck you? To satisfy you?" As Prince Aemond aggressively touches your breasts, you let out somewhat scandalous moans. It looks like Aemond's hands are massaging your breasts in a teasing way.

"By your hands, Ñuha Dārilaros; I would accept any fate. Death or pleasure, whatever you decide; it will be to my advantage." You drawl, trying to seduce Aemond. Between your legs, if there was already water before; now everything was wet. Your pussy is ready to receive Prince Aemond's cock. And then abruptly, he grabs your ass firmly, pulling you towards him. Almost like climbing a mountain, you climb up Aemond, wrapping your legs around his waist. Once you secure yourself around Aemond, It's like your pussy is throbbing just from feeling his cock pressed lightly beneath it. In a desperate act, you pull Prince Aemond's face to yours, kissing him. A thirsty kiss, as if there was an uncontrollable thirst within you and only Aemond Targaryen's lips could quench it. At first he seems apprehensive, controlling his tongue so as not to lose his rational side even in a simple kiss, but as soon as you press a little on his cock, which is already hard, he gives himself over to the kiss; body and soul. The prince's long fingers firmly gripping the top of your ass, creating a pleasant friction between your body and his. And just as it seems like he's finally going to give himself to you, he pulls away from your lips and drops you into the water.

“Certain privileges must be earned before they are received so impulsively, gundjabo. Tame the dragon we are about to seek, prove yourself indispensable to your King, and you will gain some worth in my eyes. Until then, savor this moment. There may not be another opportunity for you to experience such freedom again in the future.” Prince Aemond speaks as he holds your face up after you finally manage to catch your breath from being thrown into the water. You are seething with anger inside—frustrated by the way the one-eyed prince has treated you, by the inability to grasp the full magnitude of his presence, and by your own intense yearning for him that has made you lose all sense of absurdity.

In silence, the prince exits the water, gathering his garments from the ground and donning them once more. You watch him attentively, struggling to suppress the anger that is consuming you. Fortunately, as the desire ebbs away, your good sense returns. With a sense of urgency, you leave the water and dress yourself. No words are exchanged between you and Prince Aemond during the journey to the boat, nor during the voyage to Dragonstone.

Certainly, you had to be discreet, feigning the role of commoners while you followed Prince Aemond to the location where he hoped to find his potential dragon. The journey took hours, leading you to a nearly forgotten place amidst a quiet fishing village. Against the prince's will but driven by strategy, you had to repeatedly obstruct the view of curious onlookers who tried to recognize Aemond. Through a bit of your own charm, you managed to divert their attention, effectively becoming his shield. In the tempestuous atmosphere, you finally come upon the dragon. It is enormous, with black scales that blend into the shadows. Its eyes are closed, indicating it is resting.

“Your Highness, I cannot... Find another bastard,” you say upon seeing the dragon so close. The fear of death outweighs any sense of duty at that moment. You step back, trying to distance yourself, but Prince Aemond grips your arm with a harshness. This time, he pulls you close with aggression.

"Swallow your cowardice, go over there, and claim that dragon. And if this seems like a request to you, know that it is an order, and should you disobey, you will die by my sword, gundjabo." Prince Aemond threatens, looking at you with impatience. His menacing tone frightens you somewhat, but as a final act of bravery, you grab the dagger from the Prince’s waist and point it at him.

"Your Highness, regrettably, I must clarify that I have no intention of obeying you. Let me go, and I assure you, you shall never hear of me again," you say, your voice trembling somewhat, though not from cowardice. The thought of death, at this moment, feels unsatisfactory to you.

"Go to that damned dragon and claim it for yourself, or you will die here. There is no other option, gundjabo. My patience is wearing thin, so drop this dagger and go now!" Prince Aemond bellows with all his might, his demeanor fierce and ready to strangle you if necessary. As you remain indecisive, contemplating your options, Prince Aemond suddenly throws himself at you, causing both of you to tumble to the ground. He grips your neck tightly, while you still hold the dagger against him, the weapon trembling in your hand.

"Your Highness, you are squeezing my neck...with a certain unnecessary firmness." You speak between attempts to catch your breath as the air escapes you. Aemond's blank stare tells you he might kill you. So while you still have strength, you hold the sharp dagger against the neck of Aemond Targaryen, who is lying on top of yours. He only seems to notice that he is hurting you more than necessary when you cut him, more specifically cut a small but significant part of his neck. And then his hands lose their grip on your neck and his attention seems to be elsewhere. It could be that the pain from the cut is bothering him, or the fact that he is bleeding and the blood is dripping down your face. The taste of Aemond's blood is surprisingly sweet, but you worry that you've seriously injured him.Then you drop the dagger you were holding and look worriedly at Prince Aemond. He removes his hands from your neck and slowly holds both of your hands at the height of your head.

“Do you feel powerful for having managed to make me bleed, gundjabo?” Prince Aemond’s words are laced with a cruel edge, as if your injury to him has only heightened his thrill. The dangerous proximity of your faces is palpable. However, before you can respond, the dragon stirs and awakens. You both quickly disentangle as you hear the dragon's roar, followed by a burst of fire that sends a shiver down your spine. It may seem like madness, but you could swear the fire that it spewed was green, an unusual color for dragon flames. The dragon's eyes are also green. It appears to be the most magnificent dragon you have ever seen.

"What should I do, Your Highness?" you ask desperately as you feel the hot breath of the dragon's nostrils blowing over you and Aemond. You recall the commands for summoning dragons that your father taught you, but without knowing the dragon's name, it will be impossible to call it.

"Command him, tell him to calm down; if he obeys you, he will be your dragon. His name is Cannibal. I suggest you act quickly before he kills us, gundjabo," Prince Aemond commands authoritatively as he gives you instructions. After a moment of effort, you take a few steps forward, under the watchful gaze of the dragon.

“Naejot Māzīs, Canibal,” you say, approaching the dragon as you notice your hands stained with Prince Aemond’s blood. Despite the bloodied state, you persist in your attempt to claim the dragon. “Lykiri, Canibal. Nyke daor dangerous. Sȳz taoba.” You raise your blood-stained hand towards the dragon, which responds with another roar. Despite the force of the roar nearly causing you to fall, you stand firm, determined to show the dragon that it will have a fearless—if not reckless—rider. The dragon spreads its wings and positions itself in front of you, undecided on whether to accept or attack. It then unleashes a powerful flame into the sky.

You close your eyes tightly, resigned to your fate, but also emboldened by the attempt to claim a dragon, an unprecedented advance from your life as a bastard prostitute. As you brace for the dragon’s attack, it approaches, waiting. You glance back at Prince Aemond, who stands behind you, observing. He gestures for you to place your hand on the dragon. With a deep breath, you gently and slowly reach out to touch the dragon’s face.

As soon as your hand makes contact, a powerful surge of energy envelops you. Your eyes shut again to fully experience the bond forming between you and Cannibal. Though it feels like mere seconds, you sense that more time has passed. Prince Aemond’s voice reaches you through the haze, calling you several times. When you finally open your eyes, both yours and the dragon’s meet in unison. Turning slowly, you face Prince Aemond, who appears astonished. You and Cannibal now stand united, as one.

"Congratulations, gundjabo. You have just bestowed a significant advantage upon your King in this war," Prince Aemond declares, his expression betraying genuine satisfaction. Yet, there is no joy within you. The gravity of your new reality is apparent: you are now irrevocably entangled in a conflict that, though not of your own making, could very well claim your life. Moreover, your evident lack of experience with dragons only compounds the danger you face. Officially, your existence has been altered beyond recognition.

TO BE CONTINUED

GLOSSARY

Ao kostagon jikagon - You can go

Gundjabo - Prostitute

Ñuha Dārilaros - My Prince

Naejot Māzīs - Come Forward

Lyriri - Calm down

Nyke - I

Daor - Not

Sȳz - Good

Taoba - Boy

[that-foul-legacy-lover]

I don't think I've ever seen this particular meet up around, and if you've written something like this please kindly point me to it, but...

I'm dying to know. How would Legacy react to the other Harbingers?

We kinda know Ajax's opinion on them from voice lines, but I really wanna know what Moth TM thinks

And, if you wanna go the sagau route too, how would he feel being in a Harbinger only team? (Aka Childe, Scara/Wanderer and Arlecchino, in the present moment, but let's pretend we have a fourth one of them already)

hoohoohoo i got you, this is going to be a long one so bear with me mothlings!!

Director: Pierro is suspicious to Foul Legacy, he smells like the Abyss, yet not. the stars in his eyes match the ones in Legacy's glittering wings, but their light is from Teyvat, not the otherworldly glow from beneath this land. Legacy doesn't like it, the feel of being so close to home but with something obviously wrong that he simply can't put his claw on

First: Capitano is a pillar of strength, someone both Childe and Foul Legacy admire wholeheartedly- but Legacy also sees his nobility, the way he treats even his lowest level agents with respect. he aspires to be like that one day, someone people can look up to and expect kindness in return, so even Foul Legacy will give the First Harbinger a small, polite bow

Second: Legacy detests Dottore with all of his heart. not only does Childe have younger siblings, but Dottore has also attempted to rope him into experiments on his Abyssal half. Foul Legacy hates being treated like a thing, like just a feral animal, and that's not even mentioning what he fears the Doctor could do to you. Childe has to hold him back from growling viciously whenever he passes Dottore in the hall

Third: Columbina is strange, but Legacy is also strange! she's unsettling, yes, but she never tries to harm him or Childe- unless the latter riles her up enough to fight. sometimes when Foul Legacy is particularly homesick for you, nations away from Snezhnaya, he'll listen to her eerie singing as she sits nearby, not paying him any mind at all

Fourth: Legacy regards Arlecchino with both fear and respect. she's cordial enough, keeping her operations quiet and training her children to be the next set of Fatui soldiers, much like how Ajax became Tartaglia. the Knave terrifies Foul Legacy with her calm ruthlessness, but as long as she doesn't raise a finger towards you, he won't do anything

Fifth: Pulcinella is a curious case, treating Childe like a grandson and regarding his Abyssal half with kindness as well. it's a welcome change, and yet... Legacy can't help but feel like he isn't completely sincere. there's the barest undertone of a lie when he tells Childe about the other Harbingers, and Legacy watches the information with a care, suspicious eye

Sixth: ERROR. DATA NOT FOUND.

Seventh: Childe doesn't get the chance to interact with Sandrone that often, so neither does Foul Legacy. but he's very curious about what she does, always tinkering away in her lab- it's less foreboding than Dottore's set of rooms, at least. once she begrudgingly allowed him to watch her work, and needless to say her robots consider Foul Legacy their friend now

Eighth: Signora wasn't Childe or Legacy's favorite coworker when she was alive- they're not happy that she's dead, but it is somewhat of a relief to not have Childe bite his tongue with a vengeance whenever some snide comment slipped from her mouth. still, Legacy almost wishes he knew a bit more, having seen her stare longingly out the window at the silent snow all too often- he knows that longing. it's the type he feels when he misses you

Ninth: Legacy doesn't know much about Pantalone, apart from his love of wealth. he's an elegant man, to be sure, someone who can simultaneously keep his composure while also being entirely condescending. but Childe has a habit of buying you trinkets and gifts during his travels, so he's still grateful for the funds the Regrator provides

Tenth: ???

Foul Legacy wouldn't mind being in a team with other Harbingers- he knows they can't hurt him, at least not directly, and it seems to make the Creator so happy. he basks in your warm words, your loving attention, purring happily whenever he hears your sweet voice praise him- but only when his teammates aren't watching. he just knows that the Wanderer, mysterious as he is, will mock him for it, and Arlecchino always seems to know what's going on even when she's not present. his fourth teammate always seems to switch; he likes it best when it's Sandrone or Capitano. Legacy knows how the rest of them feel, though, how the Wanderer lowers his hat or how Arlecchino's lips quirk when they hear your compliments- the Creator has the adoration of them all

[joeliz99]

Draco Malfoy- The Weight of Expectations

Draco Malfoy

Sixth Year at Hogwarts

As the train rumbled along, a girl walked through the moving corridors—one whom many knew but few dared provoke. (Y/N) Athens was fierce, impenetrable, and self-sufficient. She needed nothing and no one to fulfill her own needs. Her movements were calculated yet subtle, with an impeccable elegance. Her gaze swept from compartment to compartment, searching for a young man with platinum-blonde hair whom she had spent the entire summer with. Draco Malfoy had grown up with the girl from as far back as they could remember—learning to walk together, celebrating holidays at each other's homes. They weren’t inseparable or soulmates, but they had each other nonetheless. They understood the aspects of a life based on appearances; a life complicated where perfection only masked hidden imperfection.

(Y/N) and Draco had started a relationship in their fifth year at Hogwarts. Not out of love or even attraction, but to shape a marriage that would occur once they completed their education at the school of magic. They seemed made for each other, complementing each other naturally. So, when He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named made his grand return, both were swept up by the reckless decisions their parents had made. With his father imprisoned in Azkaban and a task to complete before the end of the academic year, Draco was forced to mature and make decisions that not only protected his family's reputation but also their lives. There was no room for error. And if anyone knew the strengths and weaknesses of the young man with gray eyes and pale skin, it was her. She was determined to help him even when she had no reason to get entangled in the mess Draco was in. Both were strong on their own, but together, they were unstoppable.

When she finally locates him, she approaches with her chin slightly raised and clears her throat to announce her presence. His Slytherin companions look up, but Draco keeps his eyes fixed on the window showing the path to Hogwarts. He didn’t need to turn his head to know it was her—he had memorized the scent of the lavender perfume she always wore.

— Parkinson, Zabini. — She nods in greeting, and they return the gesture. — I’m afraid it’s time for you to find another place to sit. Draco and I need to catch up. —

— Why should I find another seat? You’re the one who just arrived, — Pansy replies bitterly, shooting her a look of disapproval. (Y/N) smiles cynically and adjusts the sleeve of her shirt to make sure it’s perfectly in place.

— You know I don’t like repeating myself. Gather your things and leave now. — Pansy clenches her jaw at this and looks to the dark-haired boy for support, who is already in the process of gathering his belongings and getting up from his seat.

— Draco... —

— You heard her, Pansy. — The blonde interrupts before his companion can finish her sentence, and the people seated on the other side of the aisle laugh mockingly. — And the same goes for you, Crabbe and Goyle. Get out of here already. —

The laughter dies instantly, and the two boys leave with barely audible complaints. (Y/N) waves Pansy off with a hand and a smile still on her face, which fades as her companions disappear from view. For the first time, Draco meets her gaze and watches as she sits down across from him, her eyes never leaving his.

— I thought you’d be sick of seeing me after spending the whole summer together. I definitely need a break from you. Honestly, you’re starting to seem like my babysitter. — The girl laughs at this and rolls her eyes playfully.

— Is that how you talk to your girlfriend, Malfoy? Should I remind you of that last night we saw each other when you started to...—

— Shut up, (Y/N). — His jaw tightens as he recalls how he had turned to her with tears in his eyes and his breathing uncontrolled. Draco had been scared then, and he was still scared now. He feared becoming a killer, losing his family, and not being able to escape the reality that was closing in on him. And even though he hated to admit it, (Y/N) was the only person who truly understood him and made him feel better in moments when nothing seemed right.

— That’s what I thought. — The girl smiles with satisfaction and casually checks her manicure. — Shouldn’t you be doing your prefect duties right now? —

— I don’t feel like it. — He shrugs nonchalantly and plays with his hands as a distraction.

— You don’t want to attract attention, Draco. — (Y/N)'s features harden slightly, showing seriousness on the matter. — If you want things to work, you can’t fail in the most basic aspects of a plan. You’ll have to act as if nothing is happening, otherwise, you’ll have too many eyes on you. We don’t need that, do you understand? —

— I don’t need you telling me what to do. — The blonde retorts disdainfully. — And don’t speak in the plural as if this is something we’re doing together. I’ve told you a thousand times I don’t want you involved in any of this. This is something I have to handle alone, so focus on your own problems and leave me alone.

A silence settles between them for a moment, and Draco opens his mouth, ready to apologize, but he can’t bring himself to do it. The corridor darkens suddenly, and all the students in the compartment begin to wonder what is happening. (Y/N) frowns and, hearing footsteps approaching, rises from her seat and takes a step towards Draco, bumping into someone she couldn’t see due to the darkness. The girl murmurs a small 'sorry,' but receives no response in return. Draco stretches out his hand to guide her towards him, and as she sits down, the corridor begins to return to its normal state, with everything back in its place. However, Draco’s gaze shifts to the luggage racks above them, noticing something wasn’t quite right. (Y/N) quickly notices this and tightens her grip on the table to snap him out of his trance. He licks his lips, shifting his attention from what was above to her.

— So, how much did you miss me over the holidays? — Draco drapes an arm over the girl’s shoulders, and she doesn’t protest, fully aware he was trying to divert the conversation due to an unexpected visitor.

— I won’t say what you want to hear, Malfoy. — She smiles, turning her gaze away, and he laughs, leaving a small kiss on her neck. — But you do seem to have missed me... a lot.

— You have no idea. — Draco whispers in her ear with a mischievous grin and nibbles on her earlobe, causing her to shiver, though she tries to maintain her composure and engage in normal conversation.

The next 30 minutes of the journey feel long and heavy for both young people, but they manage to keep their composure. As the train comes to a stop, night has fallen, and everyone is eager to reach the castle and fill their stomachs with the comforting, hot food awaiting them in the Great Hall. Students disembark from the carriages as quickly as their bodies allow, and when only Draco and (Y/N) are left to disembark, the girl heads to the exit and closes the door. She turns after drawing the curtains of the carriage with a flick of her wand and sees Draco holding his briefcase in one hand and his wand in the other.

— I think we have a visitor, love. — The boy comments with a serious expression, and (Y/N) nods, scanning the carriage casually.

— Didn’t your mother ever tell you it’s rude to eavesdrop on other people’s conversations, Potter? —

Draco raises his wand and quickly utters 'Petrificus Totalus,' and a body immediately falls to the ground. The blonde walks over and removes the blanket covering the body of his most prized enemy, his face contorting with the hatred and disdain he felt.

— Oh yes... She was dead before you could even wipe the drool off your chin. — He lifts his knee and strikes Harry Potter's nose with force, likely breaking it with the impact. — That’s for my father.

— Alright, Draco... That’s enough. — (Y/N) approaches him and extends her arm, which he intertwines with his. Draco hesitates for a moment but ends up doing what she wanted after covering the young Potter with the blanket again. — Enjoy your trip back to London, Potter.

The girl nods, signaling to the blonde that it’s time to leave, and they both exit the train with their heads held high and their expressions neutral. As they are about to board the carriages that will take them to the school entrance, (Y/N) stops and adjusts Draco’s tie in silence. The boy watches her closely as she does this, and when she feels his gaze, she looks at him in return.

— There you go, we don’t want you looking disheveled... — Draco nods and licks his lower lip, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear.

— Thanks. — He leaves a small kiss on (Y/N)’s lips, taking advantage of the closeness between them.

— We’re in this together... — Draco nods, listening to her words, and with a sigh, he separates from her and extends his hand, offering help to her as she climbs into the carriage. (Y/N) smiles at this and ignores the gesture, easily getting into the carriage on her own. — Draco raises an eyebrow when he notices this, and the girl mimics his action, looking at him.

— Come on, Malfoy, what are you waiting for? — The boy rolls his eyes and gets into the carriage, heading towards a place that no longer felt like a second home and that would change his life completely in a few months. Hogwarts would never be the same.

[randomname360]

Undertale Fandom Headcannon

Okay everyone knows that Error and Ink have a truce when it comes to Outertale. Error likes stars and silence that Outertale has to offer so that's why he doesn't destroy Outertale. Ink noticed this and started coming to the au as a way to talk to him because he knew the Destroyer wouldn't do anything bad there. This made the place a neutral zone.

I think Nightmare and Dream should have a place like that. People might say they already do because of Dreamtale and where the Tree of Feelings was but I think we need a place more random. Ccino's Cafe would be the perfect place. I can already see Killer going there because of the cats then eventually maybe he brings the rest of the gang. Maybe the gang gets tired of the fad and stops coming but Nightmare doesn't. Maybe he starts coming on the regular because he likes the desperation of the customers in the place. I mean the people who come to coffee places go to either drink coffee to stay up to work on something, meaning they are stressed, or because they are having a mental crisis and need a coffee break, meaning they are ready to give up and just cry in a ball. Both types of people come to the Cafe feeling negative emotions, they might come to Ccino's Cafe in particular to cheer themselves up with the adorable kitties- this means there is a lot of negative auras that come to the place.

Nightmare might grow acustom to the cafe's aura and start drinking staying there for a few hours at a time. Maybe he drinks some coffees while enjoying a book. Maybe Dream comes by to chat with Ccino but notices Nightmare there just enjoying himself. Maybe he starts coming more often to keep an eye on Nightmare because he's afraid Nightmare might hurt Ccino. Maybe he confronts Nightmare and Nightmare says he wouldn't hurt a being here, not yet at least. Maybe he quotes Error saying the whole "I'm destroying this place last." Maybe Dream starts coming and having civil conversations with Nightmare.

The two could talk about whatever: make the place an informal meeting spot to talk about work, a girl talk space to talk about their days and teammates, or make it a hang out spot where they just do their own things and sit near each other.

Just my own personal headcannon that I think more people should think about.

[ultimateempath]

BadSans!Swap AU FT. Nightberry

-Swap starts off as a star sans and had believed that Ink and Dream were the best pair of friends he ever could've asked for. Sure it was extremely difficult keeping up with people who were essentially gods, but he didn't mind as long as he could help people.

-During a particularly brutal yet successful battle against the bad sanses, Swap ends up collapsing from an injury and tries to reach out for help...only to find no one there. His so-called 'friends' abandon him in the crumbling au, leaving him to die in the freezing snow of a town he recognizes but knows is not his own.

-Fortunately, Nightmare finds his unconsious body and begrudgingly rescues the betrayed sans before meeting back up with the rest of his team, having originally planned to torture or manipulate the smaller monster into joining their ranks.

-However, as it turns out, Swap joins them with little to no resistance. He had time to think back in what he had originally thought would be his tomb, and he began to truly realize just how much the Stars had actually mistreated him. Dragged along on missions with barely any time to eat or sleep, rarely given permission to visit his own au to let his beloved brother know how he was doing, all while paying no attention to Swaps mortal needs. So when Nightmare offers him a spot in the bad sanses, he takes it almost immediately.

-Swap gets along well with the rest of the bad sanses, observing their various hobbies and assisting where he can. Wether it be helping Horror with his garden, proving to have a surprisingly good poker face while playing cards with Dust, assisting Killer with pet care and blade repair, gaming with Cross, discussing literature with Nightmare, or showing off his cooking skills, he's settled in with the crew quite nicely.

-Nightmare and Swaps interest in one another, both platonically and romantically, grow over time as the two get to know each other better. Swap finally gets to see the softer sides of him, such as the gentle care he gives his underlings and the more therapeutic aspects of his abilities. Meanwhile Nightmare, while refreshed by Swaps kindness and concern, also gets to see much more intimidating and somewhat frightening sides of the peppy Sans.

-As Swap acclimates and gets more involved with the dark sanses' day-to-day activities, Nightmare quickly learns just how badly Ink and Dream screwed up by mistreating him as well as the potential the two let go to waste.

-First and foremost, Swap is highly skilled in combat. Nightmare originally thought extra training would be needed to get him caught up with the rest of the team, but the dark prince was swiftly proven wrong when each of Swaps sparring partners came back exhausted and thoroughly bruised. His energy outmatches that of his peers and he's very good at combining abilities, always eager to learn new moves.

-Secondly, Swap is more intelligent than they first assumed. When he was finally allowed to attend meetings, it took no time at all for the boney blue blur to start pointing out holes in mission plans, trap blueprints, and battle tactics while throwing out impressive ideas of his own.

-Finally and most importantly...Swap has connections. He can keep Errors interference to a minimum with a stern expression, call up the disgusting 90s parasite whenever a distraction is necessary or someone needs to dissappear, and even convince the reaper himself to turn a blind eye. Nightmare and the others quickly discovered that Swap has a variety of sanses and papyruses wrapped around his finger.

-Nightmare quickly appoints Swap as his advisor & right hand man, the bad sanses the biggest threat they've ever been thanks to the blue menace.

-It doesn't take long for Nightmare and Swap to become an offical couple, Dream and Ink wallowing in regret as they begin to stack up losses against them.

-no one stands a chance against the lord of darkness and his beloved blue beast.