I fucking love your writing!!! You're like one of my favorite fic authors ever!! Theres this cool ass quote that I really like that goes- "I'll take care of you" "It's rotten work" "Not to me, not if it's you" and I was wondering if you could work that into a fake dating AU??
This was such a bad idea, but that had never stopped Sirius before, and it wasn't going to stop him now. James had asked for his help, and Sirius was helpless to do anything but promise that he would do his best.
Granted, he would've been a lot happier to help if it hadn't been acting as James's boyfriend as they went to Lily and Remus's wedding.
Sirius was a nice guy and all, but after he agreed to help, he had to ask, "Why do you need a date at all? We were both invited. It's not like you have to sneak me in."
"The last time I saw either of them, I was being a massive prick because Lily had broken up with me."
"I remember," Sirius said. Mostly he remembered because he'd thought it was funny, at the time. Then, when it had become clear that Remus wasn't planning on talking to them anymore because of it, he'd felt a little bad. Not that they'd stayed best mates after leaving Hogwarts, but they used to meet up every few months.
"I just want to let both of them know that I'm not going to make a scene."
"I don't think they would've invited you if they thought that was going to happen," Sirius said.
"If you don't want to pretend that we're dating-"
"I'm fine with it," Sirius said, rolling his eyes. "I was just pointing out that I don't think it's necessary."
"I think it's very necessary."
"Whatever you say, love." Disaster. This was going to be a complete and utter disaster.
Sirius should be smart and tell Remus ahead of time that it was fake so that he wouldn't say anything incriminating, but if James wanted him to pretend that they were dating, then that's what he would do.
Dumb. Idiotic. Stupendously moronic. These were all words to describe Sirius in this moment, and his only comfort was that it was James's stupid idea for this in the first place.
"I'm glad you two finally got together," Professor McGonagall said.
James's arm around Sirius tightened. "Right."
"How long have you been dating?" she asked, and it should've been a perfectly innocent question. They were at a wedding, presenting themselves as being in a serious relationship. These were the sort of questions people asked couples attending a wedding together. Sirius knew this, but given the way James's arm tightened even more, he figured that James hadn't known.
"The lines are a bit blurry," Sirius said with a smile. "You might as well ask if the phoenix came before or after the flame."
Professor McGonagall laughed, which covered the sharp inhale from James. They kept talking, exchanging idle conversation about her new students and their jobs for a couple minutes before they parted ways.
"You need to calm down," Sirius muttered to him.
"I'm perfectly calm," he said, but his jaw was tight and he looked like a pat on the back would shatter him.
Sirius only snorted. "Let's get you something to drink. That'll loosen you up."
An hour and too many drinks later, Sirius wondered if he should cut James off. It's not like he was an alcoholic, but he was pounding back drinks like it was going out of style.
Lily walked up to them as Sirius was debating whether or not he could get away with switching his glass (champagne) with James's (whiskey). They'd said hello to her when they walked in, but she was too busy making the rounds before this to really talk. Not that Sirius knew what they'd talk about. He'd never really gotten on with her, in spite of her dating James for over a year; he'd had plenty of time to get used to her, but he hadn't. "Hi, Sirius," she said with a smile. It was a cliche, but she was definitely glowing with happiness. "James."
James turned to look at her, then his eyes went wide and he swallowed thickly as he saw who he was face to face with. "Erm. Hey Lils. Lily. You look- erm, I mean-"
Sirius switched their glasses.
"It's good to see you- not that- er. Congratulations," James finished weakly.
"Thanks," Lily said, ignoring his stuttering. "I'm glad you two finally worked things out."
"Finally?" James asked.
"Yeah, I know that- actually, it's not my business," she said.
Sirius was very grateful that she wasn't going to get into it, and he was about to thank her aloud when James ruined it.
"No, what do you mean?"
Lily glanced at Sirius, who tried to give her a look to convey how much he would appreciate her not saying a word.
He wasn't sure it came across.
"I might be reading too much into it. It's not like I was ever very close with Sirius, and god knows I never knew what was going on in your head."
"Lily," James said slowly, "what are you talking about?"
"Just that you two have always been close. When we were dating, sometimes I felt like the odd one out."
"Sorry about that," Sirius said, because it had been a touch purposeful on his part.
She gave a small shrug, smiling again. "It all worked out in the end."
Sirius tried to focus on the conversation, asking how Remus had proposed and what they had planned for their honeymoon, but he couldn't help but keep an eye on James, who was staying horrifically silent. He noticed too late that James had stolen his drink back.
Eventually, Lily walked away to rescue Remus from a conversation with her sister, leaving James and Sirius alone again.
"Okay, that's enough," Sirius said, snatching James's glass from him. It was almost empty, but he wasn't going to risk it. "We're calling it a night."
"Fine," James said petulantly. He got to his feet, then wobbled.
Sirius put an arm around his waist to steady him and steered them towards the lift. "One foot in front of the other, love."
"I know how to walk," he muttered.
"How comforting. Do you also know how not to drink yourself into a stupor?"
"I'm not that drunk."
"I respectfully disagree."
"Respectfully?" James repeated with a laugh.
"Would you prefer disrespectful disagreement?"
"Sure. It'll make this feel more normal."
"As you wish, love.” Pause. “You're a sodding idiot. I can't believe I'm having to haul your arse around like we're eighteen again."
"It doesn't count as disrespectful if your voice still sounds like that."
"Like what?" Sirius asked.
"Like you love me."
"Use your imagination for that part."
James snorted, and they kept walking. It was slow going, mostly because James was trying to pretend he wasn't as drunk as he was. They made it into the lift, and James leaned heavily against him. "Maybe I did have a bit much."
"Maybe," Sirius agreed.
By the time the doors opened onto their floor, James had turned morose. It's how he always got when he got pissed instead of staying at buzzed, and Sirius was impressed that it had taken him this long to have his mood turn. Not that he'd been particularly happy before.
"I'm sorry," he mumbled.
"That you have to take care of me."
"Don't be, I don't mind."
"And why's that?" Sirius asked.
"Because it's-" he paused as he stumbled over his toes "-bloody rotten work."
"No, it's not."
"Yes, it is."
"Not to me," Sirius said.
"It should be. Why would you want to take care of me?"
"Because it's you," Sirius said softly, knowing that James wouldn't remember this well enough come morning to figure out what he meant by it. "Nothing rotten about that, love."
One of these days, James was going to know that when Sirius called him 'love', he meant it exactly as it sounded. It wasn't going to be tonight though, so he kept helping James to their room. They'd done this song and dance too many times for Sirius to feel weird about it. If James needed help getting undressed, he'd help him. He knew how to keep from staring, so he wouldn't feel like he was taking advantage of the situation or summat. He'd get James to drink some water, and in the morning, James would thank him for the help and nothing would change.
It had been years, and nothing had changed between them.
Despite the countless comments they'd gotten today about people saying 'finally' or 'always knew you were together', Sirius knew that the chances of it happening were slim.
The rest of their stay at the hotel for the wedding passed without incident. It was the wedding day, and then the day after everyone was leaving. The day of the wedding, people were busy thinking about Lily and Remus, so people stopped commenting on the relationship between James and Sirius. It was a relief, but the sad fact was that all the people here that weren't family, they all knew from Hogwarts. They all knew Sirius and James, and the next time they saw any of them, they'd probably have to explain that they weren't dating anymore. It would be years before Sirius had to have that conversation with anyone, but he was already dreading it.
They packed their bags, checked out of the hotel, and headed home. Home was a flat they shared and had been sharing for the past five years. Sirius dreamt, sometimes, of them moving into a different flat, one that only had one bedroom because what would they need with a second one?
"Did we talk?" James asked, frowning. "When I was drunk?"
"We talked some, but nothing important. Why?"
"I thought... nevermind."
"Okay," Sirius said easily.
There was a minute or two of silence as they walked up the stairs to their flat and unlocked the door. Once the front door was closed, James asked, "Do you think that'll ever be us?"
"The big white wedding. Or- y'know, any wedding."
"I hope so," Sirius said.
"Well yeah." Sirius wasn't terrified of being alone or summat-- well, maybe a little bit-- but he'd like to have that kind of relationship some day. Something with that much trust and being intertwined in each other's lives the way Lily and Remus now were.
When Sirius turned around, James kissed him. Full on. Hands on either side of his face and leaning close like he wanted nothing more than to seep into his soul.
It took a couple days for Sirius to replay the conversation in his head and figure out that what he'd answered hadn't really been what James was asking. His answer was the same, no matter what, but he really hadn't thought that when James asked 'Do you think that'll be us?' he'd meant specifically the two of them together.
He sure as hell wasn't going to complain.
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Wish I could be a sacrifice to appease a beast that has been terrorising my village, except I quickly realise I’m not there to be eaten, but to be senselessly fucked and filled with it’s cum.
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↱ TO ATHENA... ↲
hiii! if you’re still taking requests, i was wondering if you could write a best friends to lovers w techno? whether it be headcanons or an actual fic!! i’ve been binging your writing and i love your work!!!❤️
Helooo your techno imagines make me go so soft <333 may i please request a one shot of techno and reader exchanging letters?
[ summary ; you and your closest friend, techno, have a routine of writing letters to each other. what’s a risky text got on a handwritten letter? ]
[ pairing ; technoblade x reader ]
[ stats ; 1.4k, second person ]
[ notes ; hellllooooo, guys! i hope you don’t mind me combining your requests. i just thought this was the perfect way to approach this oneshot! thank you guys so much for reading and enjoying my work, i’m so happy you’ve both liked itt!!! this fic contains a reference to home is where the heart is and could be counted as something like a sequel, but both are standalone pieces regardless! ]
the sharp scent of fresh ink still clings to your fingertips as you turn the letter you have written over in them. a dimming sun sets to let your fireplace illuminate the room instead, its gentle glow flickering rhythmically with the sway of the flames. your face is blank, but the jittery feeling in your hands betrays the worry that gnaws a hole straight through your stomach. for a moment, you reach forward to hold the letter over the flame. when you wrote it, you had a feeling it would end up this way; you knew, deep down, you didn’t have the guts to hand it to him.
still, when you remember yourself smiling fondly as you had poured your mortal heart out onto the parchment, you find that your hand grips tighter to the page in reluctance to let it go. with a quiet sigh, you pull your hand away and clutch it to your chest. the stupid thing has sentimental value, even if only to you. you toss the letter onto a pile of paper you’d gathered up and leave it there, so you can tuck yourself away in your study to write one you can actually send.
holding the quill between your fingers, you dip it into the ink and get to work.
“dear athena, goddess of the wrinkly brain or whatever,
i like the way your last letter opened up, but i feel like you could’ve really gone all the way with the analogy about death and grapefruits. no, i won’t elaborate even though i know you forgot the dumb shit you said already, so you have to figure it out on your own.
so, how have things been? i haven’t seen you in months, not in person. it was last winter, right? when you visited me to avoid getting frostbite in every appendage you have. that was fun. i would like to do it again, sometime. will you stay with me this winter, techno? i could use someone with your sheer brawn to split wood for me so i can stay inside and warm my toes by the fire. hint, hint. that’s flattery on your physique in exchange for manual labor. let me know if you’ll take me up on it so i can get the sty ready for you.
don’t forget to RSVP,
pallas, your childhood bestie”
you smile down at your work and wave the page around to speed up the process of the ink drying. the mail doesn’t come by where you live too often, but you know it’ll reach him eventually. you slip on some shoes to put the letter in your mailbox outside, briefly enjoying the warm summer night and chirping crickets before going back inside.
a week later-- far sooner than you expected-- you receive a letter back.
“dear pallas, my mortally wounded friend,
my genius is too much for your feeble mortal psyche. i understand that it’s challenging to keep up, but if you don’t understand how a grapefruit represents the plague of the mortal coil then that’s on you for being an illiterate bastard. that’s why i’m not going back and explaining it to you, not because i forgot what i said. my memory is an unwavering fortress of top-tier information.
things have been great for me, personally. i won’t go into details, though. you would get jealous of all the fun i’m having. it was last winter that we saw each other, yeah. i remember when you touched me without my consent so i wouldn’t freeze to death. what the hell, pallas? i don’t care about the early frostbite in my ears. ask before you get up in my face after inviting me to your house and giving me food and clothing out of nothing but the goodness of your heart. still haunts me. and now you’re objectifying me? talking about my absolute dominating physical prowess? is splitting wood an analogy? i can’t believe this. i thought you were better than that.
i’m still RSVPing for it though,
athena, your childhood murderer”
you hate to admit to yourself that you laugh when techno writes to you. he’s too funny for his own good, in that direct type of way that almost makes it seem serious. admittedly, you find yourself missing him more and more every day. with his agreement to see you in the winter bolstering your mood, though, you sit down to write a response. the words come easily, flowing out in perfect response to his tone and meeting him in the middle of every comment. the best thing you can do is that, if you’re being honest; he doesn’t tend to command conversations of his own accord, so you comply with his every word to make sure he does lead it in the end.
by the time you finish, the night has begun to make you sleepy. you fold the letter into an envelope and seal it with brand new yellow wax you purchased yesterday, after your red had run out with your last letter. you toss it onto your pile of papers to take out in the morning, and sleep easy knowing you will be with techno again in a few months’ time.
when you take the letter out to the mailbox in the morning, you feel the beginnings of a winter chill hanging around in the morning. you rush to take it outside and back in, your pajamas not doing much to keep you warm outside. you see your mail collected a little while later and breathe a sigh of relief that you didn’t miss the day for it. when you start straightening up, getting an advance for when techno visits you, you notice a letter on your pile of papers.
a letter with yellow wax.
a letter with yellow wax that you wrote last night and no letter with red wax in sight.
your stomach turns and you can do nothing but whisper a horrified, “no.” hoping you’re just missing something, you frantically dig through the pile and try to find it. papers fly and scatter across the room for nothing. it isn’t there. the letter is gone, now, and you can do nothing but slump down against the couch and start to cry. no one was supposed to read that, let alone techno and you’re stuck, you’ve got no way out of it or anything you can do.
every morning for the next week you wake up feeling ill, try to focus on your chores, and fail to get anywhere as thoughts of techno reading your letter haunt your every waking moment. another week passes after that, and you consider writing another letter claiming it to be a prank or a mistake. anything to get you out of this, but you know there’s nothing you can do about it. techno is your best friend, and you can’t believe you were stupid enough to even think of jeopardizing that, let alone go through it without even TRYING to.
a letter with pink wax finally arrives with your address and you stare at it blankly, for a long time. it sits unopened on your desk as you pace back and force, fiddling with your hands and trying to decide if you should just pretend it never arrived. curiosity wins out, though. you have to read it. you have to know. you open the letter with the opener he gave you, the one shaped like a sword, and try to steady yourself as you read.
“dear pallas, literature deity,
your letter caught me off guard. i liked how your last letter opened up, but i feel like you could have gone further with the analogy about your dedication to me and the pen. you probably don’t remember it after this long. (do you see what i’m doing here? i’m getting back at you for being such a smartass last time.)
i’ve read a lot of stuff in my life. sometimes for fun, sometimes because i have to. but i’ve never read something that made me feel like your letter did. stupid, i know, but it was like i’d swallowed the sun and burned up all the way through. in a good way. so let me tell you, if that wasn’t enough to convince you... that i feel the same. but i want to save it, okay? i want to tell you when i see you next time. you’re my best friend, you deserve to hear it from me. this winter, let’s have the time of our lives. let’s play domesticity for a little while, and i can tell you the words i want to say so badly every day, until the end.
how does that song go?
i wanna ruin our friendship,
athena, yours truly”
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[GIF 1: A person cooking in a kitchen. Caption: Any particular one in mind?]
[GIF 2: A dish is filled with food. Caption: No, nobody special. Just a type.]
[GIF 3: A person standing in a kitchen. Caption: Like a murderer, for instance?]
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"I could kill you right now" in a playful tone + kaysanova.
Nicky’s breathing is slow, centering himself on the mission at hand.
He squints his eyes against the fog, and Nicky wishes he could have used his scope to make more sense of the shadows darting around on the ground below. The conditions were unfavorable, and his weapon even more so, and Nicky couldn’t risk shooting a friend over a foe.
A flash of the enemy’s color and Nicky squares his shoulders and takes aim, waiting for the perfect moment to shoot-
He’s too slow to turn and Nicky feels the familiar weight of a gun against the small of his back. Inwardly he curses, and raises his hands slowly, making sure to show that his finger was no longer on the trigger.
“I knew you’d be up high,” A familiar voice says and Nicky risks turning, only to be met with the serious expression of a man he hadn’t considered to be his enemy in centuries. “You shouldn’t be so obvious Nicky. I could kill you right now.”
“You won’t,” Nicky replies, his voice filled with challenge. He takes a step towards Joe, and the gun still pointed at him touches his chest, right over Nicky’s heart.
“Don’t be so sure my love,” Joe states, and the hand not holding his gun leads up to brush a piece of Nicky’s hair back behind his ear. Instinct had Nicky lean into the touch, and Joe smiles. “I wish we were on the same side.”
“You made your decision, and I mine. We must live with that.” Nicky looks at Joe with remorse. They were both clearly armed now, Nicky had taken advantage of Joe’s hesitation and now it was only a matter of who would break their tentative truce first.
Nicky sees the enemy and he moves without hesitation.
A flash of red.
“Why?” Joe asks voice choked with emotion. “Nicolo -”
“You would have done the same for me,” Nicolo says, and he lifts a hand to cradle Joe’s face, mirroring his husband’s position from before.
Another shot rings out.
More flashes of red.
“It looks like we go together my heart.”
“You two are ridiculous,” Nile’s voice rings out, standing above them. “Don’t get me wrong, it’s hilarious, but we only paid for 15 minutes and that’s not enough time to put on a play.”
“We were never going to win anyways,” Nicky shrugs, looking over to the digital clock down clock above the exit to the laser tag studio. “Not when you and Quynh are paired together.”
“True,” Nile concedes. Below them, Booker exclaims obscenely in French, and Quynh’s laughter rings brightly. “Andy got taken out in the first five minutes Joe so that means Nicky and Booker are in second.”
“Next time I make up the teams,” Joe grumbles, and Nicky laughs as he throws an arm over Joe’s shoulder and starts leading them towards the exit, making empty promises of not making too many dishes dirty over the next month to help lessen his punishment of being on the losing team.
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door / by / von oliver mayhall
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it makes me so wet thinking about a gentle, casual gangbang of my all my friends. my body available for anyone to play with, fuck, cum all over. i’d beg for them to open me up, fill me with lube and toys and cock and jizz. finding and pushing my limits, but never hurting me. share me with everyone, help each other use me. no one is refused, nothing is off limits, i am a soft willing little toy for them to try anything they want.
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Can we get an Autistic! or just Neurodivergent! Nines who has to borrow one of Gavin's ( who's totally not friends with or into tin can™️) sweaters and refuses to let it go because the texture is just so pleasing.
And Nines is a bit bigger than him so it's just so enticing seeing him in such revealing (compared to the jacket and button up he came in) and fitting clothes. Gavins seen Nines hip dips and toned abs now all he wants to do is taste them.
After they do the hankypanky Nines realize that Gavin's hair is also a pleasing texture
Art fill welcome and totally wanted
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Great day ☺️☺️🙈
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↱ YANDERE!DREAM HEADCANONS ↲
CW FOR OBSESSION / UNHEALTHY RELATIONSHIPS
Hi! I really love Yandere Ghost!Wilbur! Could I request Yandere!Dream headcanons
hi there! i’m so glad you enjoyed the yandere ghostbur headcanons enough to ask for some with dream! like last time, a disclaimer: i do not condone this irl, it is just a fictional trope, etc.
dream’s obsession with you is one that makes a simple stalker look like absolute child’s play. his existence is questionable; what exactly he is remains to be seen. but, it is well-known that he is powerful, bordering on unchallengeable to most. and he doesn’t care who gets hurt if he’s able to KEEP you.
anyone you associate with is in danger. his eyes are watchful and discerning. a gaze that seems to linger too long, a hug that looks too tight-- they are cause, they are JUSTIFICATION for when he gets that person alone and slaughters them.
to you, dream is unbelievably kind. others are shocked by it, really. he’s careful with his words and attentive to your needs. sure, it’s kind of weird that he acts as though you’re together when that couldn’t be further from the truth. but it seems harmless. he just likes to get close, likes to invade your space and call you sweet things you never asked for.
a part of you wonders if it ISN’T so harmless. why does he smell so strongly of blood so often? why do people begin to cower away from you when you walk into a room?
dream likes to keep souvenirs from you. most of the time, you don’t know about it. sometimes he’ll outright ask, but it’s more common that he’ll do it when you’re out of sight. things you’ve been carrying around, knick-knacks you throw away... they become his, and part of his collection.
he has this thing he does, where he asks for some of what you’re drinking and just puts his mouth where yours had been, only taking the slightest sip and licking his lips after. in the sweetest terms, it’s an indirect kiss. in less savory ones, it’s fucking creepy.
habitually gives you accessories and bits of clothing. dream has a good sense of what you like, so you never have any complaints. you’ll wear a gift he gave you, most days.
you don’t know that, to him, it’s a mark of possession. heart-lockets are more like invisible chains that demonstrate his ownership than anything.
dream loves you a lot. he’d destroy the whole world just to have you with him in a new reality that belongs just to the two of you. you’re better off just letting him believe you feel that same... whether you do or not.
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My feeder filled me 🥵
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Psalm 28:7 (NLT) -
The LORD is my strength and shield.
I trust Him with all my heart.
He helps me, and my heart is filled with joy.
I burst out in songs of thanksgiving.
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[5 images. A man standing in a kitchen preparing food. A bowl of food. A person preparing food in a kitchen. A man in a kitchen. A man taking a bite of his face. Captions: Where is the world? What is the world? It is so close you can almost taste it. Knowledge is what you seek. There is a great change taking place. You will soon know the long-kept secrets of this land.]
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number 5 for yusufnicolo!!! so excited to read your writing again kayla 💖💖💖💖
cacau! you’re always so sweet, thank you for the prompt
They caught you when you slipped on ice and nearly fell over.
”Travel to the mountains they say, it will be fun they say.” Nicky mutters to himself as he carefully makes his way across the slick road to the cabin that he had rented for the next two weeks. Truthfully he was grateful for Quynh’s suggestion to get away from the city for a while. He had been stuck on his current novel for quite some time, and while his publisher wasn’t pushing him about it, they had given Nicky some very pointed hints.
So Quynh suggested a short stay in the mountain, had even booked the cabin as a gift and Nicky had gone.
The snowstorm was unexpected.
Nicky had not prepared for this weather, and his rental car simply couldn’t make it down the entire driveway without sliding and to avoid an accident Nicky had called the resort, and they said he could park the car and someone would pick it up when the storm died down. They told him that someone would come to check on him as soon as possible, so Nicky grabbed what he could and headed up the rest of the driveway to his cabin.
Very, very slowly.
Sneakers were not made for ice.
He’s keeping his head down as he holds his laptop bag against his chest, knuckles white with the effort. He’s so focused on just walking that Nicky never hears someone come up behind him until a shuffle startles him, and Nicky yelps in alarm, losing his footing as he slips and he begins to fall forward-
But instead of falling headfirst into icy gravel, Nicky falls into a pair of strong arms that were connected to a very attractive stranger.
“Careful,” The handsome stranger says, smiling at Nicky. They’re so close that Nicky can see freckles on dimpled cheeks, the whole package is tied together by shinning dark eyes, curls sticking out from under a beanie, and snowflakes sprinkled on a well trim beard-
“Grazi,” Nicky says, because his Nonna had taught him to be polite and Nicky really didn’t want to blurt out anything embarrassing like ‘would you like to carry me back to the cabin so I can see under your parka?’
That might be a little too forward.
“I’m Joe,” The man says after a beat and Nicky realizes with some horror that he was still holding onto the handsome stranger - Joe as it turned out - and he lets go, with wide eyes.
“Nicky,” he answers because again, Nicky was a polite human, and if Joe wasn’t so damn attractive he would find his brain and be more eloquent as well.
“Most people wear boots to the mountains,” Joe says as he pointedly looks down at Nicky’s poor choice of footwear with mirth dancing in his eyes, and Nicky snorts.
“I’ll keep that in mind for my hike tonight.” Joe catches onto Nicky’s joke and laughs, throwing his head back letting Nicky catch the glimpse of the strong line of his neck-
Quynh might have also been right when she told him he needed to get laid.
“Can I help you get to your cabin?” Joe asks, offering his arm out as the male lead in a Jane Austin novel. Though the heavy look he gave Nicky as his eyes roamed up and down his body was something more appropriate to a harlequin romance novel.
Nicky takes Joe’s offered arm with his own heated look.
“I’d like that very much.”
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62 "Do you have a ride home?" With winteriron plz♡
Thank you sending in a request! I hope this is fine!
Again, uni!AU lol.
“I’m going to kill him, I’m going to kill him,” Tony chants underneath his breath like a mantra. The only reason he came to this party is because Rhodey begged him to come, promising that he could just stand in the corner and eat all of those little hot dog thingies while Rhodey asks out his longtime crush, Carol Danvers. It seems to have worked because Rhodey and Carol are nowhere to be found (even Jessica, Carol’s best friend, doesn’t know where they went, and Rhodey’s car isn’t parked out front anymore). Tony is happy for Rhodey, truly, they’ve been best friends since forever and he’s glad that Rhodey has the chance to date the woman of his dreams, but he would be much happier if not for the fact that Rhodey was his ride.
So, he’s stuck here, surrounded by people hammered harder than the steel he works with in his lab. (At least Rhodey doesn’t drink, so Tony has the peace of mind that Rhodey isn’t driving drunk.)
He takes a seat at the bottom of the stairs, pointedly ignoring the couple making out a few steps above him. He takes his phone out of his pocket and scrolls through his Instagram feed, double-tapping mindlessly on some posts from his friends. Rhodey still hasn’t answered any of his texts. At this point, he might have to ask Natasha for a lift home, which he... wouldn’t be too thrilled about. Not that he doesn’t like Natasha, but she rides her motorcycle like Evel Knievel. He’s had more than enough moments where she cuts a corner too close and he feels like he’s going to be launched out of his seat.
Plus, she complains that he holds onto her too tightly.
A shadow falls over him. He looks up, ready to tell whoever it is that he’s not interested in having some “fun” or no, he doesn’t want a drink, thank you.
Those words die in his throat when he sees that it’s Barnes. Or Bucky, as his friends call him. Tony knows of him--Carol is really good friends with Steve, who is a good friend of Rhodey’s, and Steve’s best friend happens to be Bucky. They’ve seen each other a couple of times when their (frankly gigantic and confusing) group of friends have hung out together. Besides thinking that Bucky’s a bit quiet, Tony’s other thoughts have consisted of he is the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen and I would like to feed him cookies and protect him from the harsh realities of this world.
“Do y’have a ride home?” Bucky asks, both hands in his jacket pockets, bending over slightly to allow Tony to hear him over the booming music.
Tony’s mouth opens, but no words come out. He closes it. Then he opens it again. Then he closes it. Bucky starts to look at him weirdly, like he’s starting to regret even uttering a word to him. What a great impression to leave on someone when you’re having your first real conversation with them, Stark. “What?”
“Jess told me--” Bucky points with his thumb over his shoulder to the black-haired woman scooping herself some punch-- “that you came t’her asking where Carol and Rhodes were. When she said she didn’t know, you walked away, uh... saying that you were gonna kill him.”
“I was honestly going to ask Natasha to drive me home,” Tony says.
“She told me that you hold onto her like a ‘fuckin’ koala’.” The corner of Bucky’s mouth turns up. “Her words, not mine.”
Tony throws his hands up in the air, exasperated. “It’s not my fault that she drives like we’re in a Fast and Furious movie! I have at least 20 near-death experiences every time I ride with her.”
“Thankfully, I’m much more tame.” Bucky smiles, taking a keyring out of his pocket and jangling it. “I can drive y’home. All I ask is for a cup of coffee.”
“What?” Honestly, Tony might still be a little light-headed because all of his oxygen was punched out of him when Bucky smiled, but what.
Bucky shrugs. “A cup of coffee. Us. Together. But, I mean, uh, you don’t have to agree. Obviously. I’ll still drive y’home... and we can pretend this never happened.”
“I would love to have coffee with you!” Tony blurts out. He’s a bit too loud, apparently, because a couple of people around them give them questioning looks. “Us. Together. Yes.”
“Yes.” Tony puts his phone back into his right jean pocket and holds out a hand.
Bucky takes his hand and pulls him up. “Y’know, when I first saw you, I told Steve that I thought y’were cute. Then I told him that I’d ask you out on a date someday, and he laughed at me.”
Tony raises an eyebrow. “Are you drunk?” he asks, half because there’s a soft pink rising up on Bucky’s cheeks and half because Bucky’s always had this vaguely stoic image about him that he can’t imagine the man gushing about a crush.
Bucky rolls his eyes, leading Tony out of the party with a hand in between Tony’s shoulder blades. “If I were drunk, I wouldn’t be offering t’drive y’home. All I’m saying is that y’helped me win $50--of which I will be spending on you, of course.”
“Not even on an official date yet and I’ve already got you wrapped around my finger.”
Bucky drums a couple of fingers on Tony’s back, and Tony has to suppress a shudder. “It’s ‘cause you’re cute.”
“Hey.” Tony sends him a look. “Handsome. Not cute.”
“You can be both.”
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Chayenzo hooking up in the office (bts showed us that there is a bed there if that helps in any way).
Cha Young pauses in the middle of unbuttoning her shirt. ‘Mr Cassano, are you trying to seduce me?’
Filled here! Light smut warning.
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Marshmallow Filled S’mores Cupcakes
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Arrange marriage where they knew since they were kids. How will this affect their school life?
The problem with knowing his entire life that he was going to marry Sirius meant that there was never any time to get to know each other. Oh they were forced together plenty of times-- more times than James could count, to be honest-- but they never spent time together just to talk, as friends. Of course, that was probably because they weren't friends. The chance of friendship had been hexed into oblivion when they were all of two years old and their parents signed a marriage contract for them.
They didn't like each other, and that's all there was to it. James tried to stay optimistic and tell himself that they'd grow on each other after they were living together, but every time they were in the same room, his hope for that sank into nothingness. They glared; they sniped; they played pranks on each other that were more mean than entertaining. It got to the point where their parents didn't tell them the location they were meeting at ahead of time so they didn't have time to put anything together.
And that was all before they got to Hogwarts. After that, there was nothing their parents could do to keep them from picking fights with each other.
A month into first year, and they had their nights filled with detention. Their fellow Gryffindors had taken to shunning them for all the points they'd lost, which meant that they spent more time around each other; they just didn't enjoy themselves very much. A while later, they both received strongly worded letters from their parents telling them to clean up their act. At once. Naturally, James and Sirius both went out of their ways to make sure they didn't get caught as often instead of actually being nicer to each other.
When they were thirteen though, they called a truce. James was tired of polishing old trophies-- he was pretty sure he'd cleaned up Hogwarts's entire collection during his years of detention-- and he knew that Sirius was tired of checking his bed for traps every night before he went to sleep.
Calling a truce didn't make them nice to each other, though.
"What the fuck are you eating?" James asked.
"Toast, you berk. When was the last time you got your eyes checked?"
James rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I can see that you're eating toast, arsehole. I meant why?"
"Because it's breakfast. That's when most people eat things like toast."
"Toast doesn't have enough calories. You need to eat more."
"Don't tell me what to do," Sirius said, glaring at him.
Peter sighed heavily. "Aren't you two getting along? I thought you said that."
"What we said was that pranking each other was no longer worth our time," Sirius said. He then took an overly large bite of toast and chewed it angrily.
"It keeps the dormitory quiet, like you asked," James added. "Really, add beans or something. You're going to starve to death."
"I've managed to not die my entire life without you sticking your nose in my eating habits, and I will continue to be just fine without your input. So bugger off."
"I'll bugger off when you start eating more. You're going to get pissy halfway through Potions, and it's not going to get any better until hours after lunch. We did this exact same thing yesterday! And the day before. And the day before that, too. This entire bloody term, as a matter of fact."
Things continued in that vein until Sirius and James both stalked off for the library, ostensibly to finish their essays for Transfiguration. In truth, they had found out-- separately, of course-- that Remus was a werewolf and come to the same conclusion: the best way to help him out during the full moon would be to become animagi. Far more important than doing homework-- though their homework had already been finished.
It was the summer before sixth year, and they had had one glorious month apart. The Black Family had taken a trip back to Thailand, which meant that James had had a glorious thirty days without having to see Sirius or hear his parents tell him that he should go visit him.
Unfortunately, they were back in Britain, and their parents hadn't wasted any time in setting up a date for all of them to have dinner together.
James sighed but didn't put up a fight when it was time to get ready. He'd put up years of resistance, to no avail. Now that they were nearly of age, his parents had been cracking down even harder about his behaviour when it came to Sirius. He prepared himself for a boring evening of sitting in an uncomfortable chair while either ignoring Sirius or exchanging glares with him. The glares would be few and far between because it would involve actually looking at each other, and past that, they couldn't risk getting caught by their parents. They'd mostly taken to being silent while in the same room; it was the easiest way of keeping their truce intact, they'd learned. They didn't say a word to each other in the dormitory unless they absolutely had to.
He thought he knew exactly what to expect from tonight, which is why he was completely thrown when he saw Sirius again.
Sirius was... gorgeous. There was no other way to describe the changes to his appearance. It was nothing big. He hadn't experienced any major changes to his features, but he was different. He'd gone and gotten handsome in their time apart, and James couldn't put his finger on exactly what it was that had changed. All he knew for sure was that when he saw him, his heart skipped a beat, and he felt the familiar stir of arousal in his stomach-- a familiar feeling in general, but never when it came to Sirius. He didn't like Sirius. He'd never fancied him or thought about him with anything approaching happiness. He was stuck with Sirius, and that's all there was to it.
Except... well, except it felt different now. He couldn't take his eyes off Sirius. Or- he could, but his gaze kept going back to Sirius like they were magnets, drawn together. No one said anything to him about his staring, but he didn't fool himself into thinking that meant no one had noticed it.
After dinner, James and Sirius were left alone. The idea was that they could talk and get to know each other better before they got married. They'd never really used the time for that. Last year during the summer, they sat in separate chairs and didn't say a word the entire time. It had been better than the year before, where they kept poking at each other-- sometimes literally, sometimes only with their words.
This time, James felt too uncomfortable to sit. He crossed his arms over his chest and stood awkwardly. Sirius threw himself into a chair, managing to look graceful instead of flopping around like a fish out of water, which is what James looked like when he tried to do the same thing at home.
"Are you feeling alright?" Sirius asked. "You were acting weird at dinner."
Sirius snorted. Instead of annoying James like it usually did, he found himself reluctantly charmed. "Right, because this is what you act like when you're fine."
"If you're such an expert on how I act, then why don't you already know what's wrong with me?"
"I didn't say anything was wrong with you; I said you were acting weird. And you are. If you want to pretend like you're not, that's your bloody business, and I'm sorry I bothered to ask."
James wanted to snap back. At this point, it was a reflex. Sirius was right; he didn't have to ask, but he had anyways. Sirius had been under no obligation to ask if he was feeling alright, but he had. It was a sign of him reaching out. James had no idea why he had tried, but now that he was feeling differently, maybe he shouldn't discourage it. After all, they were going to be married. They were going to have to spend the rest of their lives together. He might as well try to get along with Sirius before they were forced to live together full time, with only each other for company in the house. (At least, alone until they had kids, but that was a completely different problem, one he didn't want to worry about for another ten years or so.) "No, sorry, I just... I dunno. I feel out of sorts." He forced himself to relax and sat on the couch. "How was your trip to Thailand?"
Sirius looked at him suspiciously for a moment-- likely wondering why he was asking-- but he replied, "Regulus was so nervous he barely left the house, but other than that it was good."
"Why was he nervous?" James asked, frowning.
"He thinks that he isn't fluent in Thai. Which he is. But because of it, he didn't want to talk to anyone or go to any stores, and if we went out to eat, he refused to order for himself."
"That sounds really buggering annoying."
"He's just a nervous sodding berk. At this point, I'm not convinced that he's made of anything but anxiety."
"Mm," Sirius hummed. "What've you been up to this summer? Quidditch?"
"How'd you guess?" James said dryly, but he was smiling.
"Don't you think you practice enough?"
"Normally, yes, but I'm going to be captain next year. I need to do better."
"Right, because being better than everyone else at Hogwarts is a clear sign that you're slacking."
"Why Sirius, that almost sounded like a compliment."
Sirius tossed him a smirk. "Don't let it go to your head."
It was too late for that. Sirius was horribly attractive now, and on top of it, he was being nice to James. James didn't stand a chance.
"What the hell are you doing?" Regulus asked.
Sirius didn't jump in surprise-- which was good, because it would've ruined his eyeshadow-- but he was startled. Regulus usually couldn't sneak up on him. "Putting on makeup, what's it look like?" he responded evenly.
"Right, but why? You're going over to the Potter's; it's not as if you need to look nice."
Sirius ignored that. He decidedly did not appreciate the realisation that came across Regulus's face.
"You fancy him. You've hated James for years, but now you fancy him."
"I'm sure I don't know what you mean," Sirius said, putting down the brush and checking his work.
"You're a sodding liar," Regulus said, grinning widely. "I am happy for you. It would've been horrible if you married him while still despising him. That being said, does he know that you like him now? Because I don't think all the makeup in the world is going to clue him in to how you feel."
"I don't feel anything."
Regulus snorted. "Sure. Have fun getting lunch with your fiance."
"I will. You can have fun sitting in your room refusing to go anywhere or do anything."
"I will," Regulus said, sticking out his tongue because he wasn't nearly as grown-up as he liked to pretend. Fortunately, Sirius couldn't care less how grown-up he was or wasn't.
Sirius none-too-kindly shoved Regulus out of the washroom and checked his hair in the mirror. He didn't have time to do anything fancy, but he needed to make sure it wasn't sticking up or summat. Unfortunately, it wasn't behaving. He grabbed some gel and tried to tame it into place.
He didn't quite know why he was bothering. Regulus was right; if James still thought that Sirius didn't like him, then it wouldn't really matter how good he looked. And beyond that, there was the concern that, well, even if James did know that Sirius liked him and thought that he looked good, he'd seen Sirius looking all kinds of mussed and grumpy. It didn't make a difference how good Sirius could look now, because James knew how not good he looked first thing in the morning.
And all of that being said, Sirius was pretty sure that James fancied him. At least a little. Okay maybe it was a stretch to say that he fancied Sirius, but he definitely found him fit. His eyes lingered far too much and in too fond a way for him to still hate Sirius. Besides, he might be going over to the Potter's house right now, but James was the one that had asked him, not his parents. Sirius thought this might count as their first official date, and instead of making him nauseous-- like the thought of it had for so many years-- it made him excited. The two of them had spent their entire lives hating each other simply because their parents had gotten them engaged, but now they were finally talking. Sirius knew things about James that weren't connected to what bothered him and how much.
Moony and Wormtail blinked at them. "You're sitting next to each other," Wormtail said, stunned.
"Well spotted," Sirius said.
"Voluntarily," Moony added.
"Are you going somewhere with this?" James wondered aloud.
"I think mostly we're wondering what the hell happened over the summer. Do you like each other now?" Remus asked.
Sirius and James shared a look. Then they turned to Remus and nodded.
"That's... good, right?" Peter said. "Like, you're getting married next year. I was half-convinced you were going to murder each other, but you'll be fine now, right?"
"Yes, but I feel the need to point out that we wouldn't have killed each other. It's in the marriage contract," Sirius said.
"Please tell me you're joking," Moony said, making the face he always did when he learned about pureblood norms.
James shook his head. "Nope, it's in there. You lose your magic if you murder your spouse. Besides, we didn't hate each other that much."
"Could've fooled me," Peter said. "And, y'know, everyone else that's ever seen the two of you interact."
"Ancient history, mates," Sirius said carelessly. It was sort of ancient history, at least. He could see it happening again if he tried to kiss James and was rejected. Sirius was self-aware enough to know that he wouldn't take that rejection with grace. In fact, he knew that he would become positively impossible to live with if that happened. He was counting on that not happening, though. It's why he hadn't tried it yet. He was giving it time. Enough time that James should make the first move, in his opinion.
He had personally made the first several steps to repairing their relationship, so this one was on James. Hopefully, James would clue in to that before too long. Sirius was willing to wait for him to catch up, but that didn't mean he wanted to wait forever.
Sirius had his hand held out in front of him, admiring the engagement ring. James, he'd learned, was an incurable romantic. They had both known that they were going to be married the summer after their eighteenth birthdays for as long as they could remember. It had been a political move by their parents, and no one had been surprised that they weren't immediately in love with each other. Now that they were horribly, sappily in love, James said that he wanted for their engagement to feel different now.
There had been several stipulations to it, some of which Sirius was happily on board with, others more reluctant. The engagement ring, for example, felt nice. James had picked it out himself-- had designed it, actually, since he'd said that buying one already made didn't feel right. Getting a ring made Sirius feel like their relationship was different. He also liked James (half-jokingly) calling him Mr. Potter-Black when they saw each other first thing in the morning. It was sweet, even if it was clear that James liked to say it a lot more than Sirius liked hearing it.
The things- well, thing, because it was only the one thing that Sirius didn't like-- the thing that Sirius didn't like, leading up to the wedding, was that James said they shouldn't do more than some light snogging. He said it would make their married life feel more special if they saved the rest of their physical relationship for after the ceremony. Sirius saw the appeal to that in an abstract way, but in the tangible way, he was horny and James was sodding fit. Not to mention, he was a bloody teenager. He was never going to be more sexually frustrated than when he was this age-- at least, he hoped so, because if it got worse he was going to die-- and he had a boyfriend who he knew for a fact was attracted to him, and yet they weren't going to do anything.
This was his fault. He'd agreed to it. If he'd stuck out his bottom lip and looked James directly in the eye and whispered, "Please?" James would've caved. But no, Sirius had wanted to be a good partner, so he'd said they could wait. And okay, it's not like he really minded, and he had no intention of changing his mind, but it was impossible not to imagine what it would be like to be able to roll into James's bed and finally have a hand other than his own.
Point is, his engagement ring was gorgeous, and it was much nicer to look at the ring and feel butterflies in his stomach rather than stress about the fact that he was going to be a husband soon, and he didn't know if he knew how to fill that role.
Next to him, Regulus groaned in annoyance. "If I had known you would be this insufferable, I never would've wanted you and James to like each other."
"How rude," Sirius said mildly. "Isn't it pretty?"
Sirius looked over at him. "You didn't look at it."
"I've seen it before, shocking as the concept might be to you. I swear, falling in love made you lose half of your brain."
"Still smarter than you are."
"You're older; you're supposed to be smarter right now."
"Keep telling yourself that."
Regulus glared at him. "Don't you want to go bother James about something?"
"No," Sirius said shortly, and his brother raised an eyebrow. "He's busy all day."
"Then write him a letter, telling him how much you miss him."
"You know, Reggie, if my pining is bothering you, you're welcome to go read in another room. Say, your own?"
"What's stopping you from pining in your room? Why do I have to be the one to leave?"
"Because I was here first," Sirius said with a smile. "And you're the one who's getting annoyed."
Regulus hmph'd but didn't move, other than to sink down further in his seat.
Sirius turned back to admiring the ring. It really was gorgeous. He wondered if it would look better if he painted his nails. After a minute, he pulled his parchment back to him and wrote James a letter, as Regulus had suggested. It wasn't anything terribly important, and it didn't contain anything he hadn't said a dozen times before. He missed him, he loved him, he couldn't wait until they got to see each other again.
He sent it off, and it was less than an hour later that he got a reply.
I wish I had time to say more, but I miss you too. Everything's so sodding busy right now, but I should be free this weekend, if you wanted to spend some time together?
Sirius stroked his thumb over the word 'love', treasuring it. It was silly and it made him feel like maybe he was too heavy in this, but James loving him was nothing short of a miracle. And it was a miracle he was going to appreciate every day.
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