#chief broom

[nguyenfinity]

She’d stay with them while visiting I think

Bonus:

[evilgwrl]

Arranged marriage! With ghost where she’s from a small island and ghost comes to collect taxes well the island is just a few hundred short they can make it up next year? Right?! Nah ghosts is like mmmmm I’ll take what yall call a princess mean while she’s struggling as much as the other fokes on the island so when Simon takes her way and finds out she’s never lived the simple life he makes it his mission to show her the good that can out of this arrangement smutty if you would 😭 I’m obsessed with the arranged marriage trope with ghost he’s a cutie patootie

Arranged Marriage w/ Simon Riley

Holy moly I love this…

Thank you for this idea @creepytoes88 I hope you don’t mind that I made him a king, I just wanted it to flow with giving her a better life and the tax collection <3

King!Simon Riley x Reader

Archipelago

CW: Being sold by your family to pay off debt, sharing a bath, oral sex (f receiving), orgasm bc simon knows what to do ;)

Word Count: 2,623

Twisted fingers hooked under the bark, knees scraped with stagnant flora, coiling limbs of bushy thorns blistering around the tropical plains. There was a subtle burn that sunk through your thighs, muscles gnawing at your bones before you finally settled on a thick branch, wind hissing in your ear, almost warning you. You paid no attention.

Pupil-blown eyes stared off to the view in front of you, lapping in the vicious strain of turquoise, untouched coral glistening an array of colours under the harsh sun. There was a trickle of sweat that ran down the back of your neck, your hair thrown into a rough bun as you shielded yourself with raggedy, overworked fingers.

You watched the skerries surrounding your island, a flurry of birds swooping low before nestling down on the warmth of the rocky floor. It was a peaceful sight. Nothing but the low crash of waves to be sound, the occasional calling of a fellow Islander working its way through the palms and out of the sand, before landing in your ear.

You felt the prickle of pain shoot through your feet as you landed on the ground, the grass covered in speckles of yellow dust sticking in between your toes as you hurried down to the village. Any bit of tranquillity soon disappeared as your eyes locked into the sight of the townspeople, the Island far too small to accommodate such needing families.

“Y/N! Where have you been? The King shall be here soon and you’re off running with the fairies.”

Your Mother’s tone was harsh and reprimanding, her eyes tight with wrinkles as she scowled, chucking a makeshift broom at you. You weren’t exactly sure what the difference of you sweeping would make, the life you live here, swept or not, is strikingly different to the one of a King. No matter how beautiful your Island is, your feet are permanently stained with grains of sand, skin is littered with dull scars and fresh scratches.

You understood her worry, offering her a gentle, apologetic smile as you followed her bustle of orders. Your Father was the village Chief, a wise man who led the people to survive without the worry of advanced civilisation.

You were seen as a headcase to the others. A woman whose head wasn’t fixed well enough to her shoulders. A dreamer. Your mind was amplified by the need to do more, to see more. Untouched beauty too turns mundane when you’re not allowed to experience it.

As night fell, the waves seemed to settle, burying themselves in the crops of sand that spanned around you, 10-legged creatures hiding away in the cocoon of a cracked shell. Palms slept with the safety of coconuts that would blossom into the town’s delicacy, the meat tender on the tongues of children, the water fuel for the fishermen. There was a large bonfire lit, the earthly crackle occasionally popping as a spark flew out, hissing against the cool air before dispersing into a drag of smoke.  

Girls chattered around you, smoothing down their appearances as they used crushed berries on their lips and the apples of their cheeks. You were never fussed about the King, hardly paying attention to him on his previous arrivals if he even bothered to show up. You took note of his lack of empathy, normally sending one of his men in his place, unbothered by the Island that’s supposed to fall under his command.

You heard the ship pull up, wood striking against the ground as it split between the beach, a carved woman tangled to the figurehead, flowing hair etched between wood and a man’s knife as she breached the island. They were a loud bunch, deep voices echoing across the Isle as your father walked down to greet them formally.

The air grew silent, thick smog suffocating the air as your father appeared, his figure shaking as he hobbled towards you. Toughened hands gripped your cheeks, stroking the sun-kissed skin to comfort you.

“Father, what’s wrong?”

“We- We’re short on our taxes,” he gulped, a hand planted in your matted hair as you scrunched your brows together.

“But how? We’re sensible, we work harder- How?”

“Things happen beyond our understanding sometimes, sweetheart, just know me and your mother love you very much.”

“I know? Why are you-” you stalled “- Why are you telling me this? What’s going on?”

“The King needs a wife,” he hiccupped as realisation set in, spine snapping into a cold flush as you attempted to wriggle free from your father’s grip.

“No-“

“I have to, Y/N, I don’t have a choice!”

“A choice? There’s always a choice! How could you do this to me?” The strain of a sob wracked through your chest, your heart beating eerily slow against your rib cage as you wailed out for your mother who only walked away, her face concealed by strands of hair. Hands coiled around your biceps, dragging you towards the ship as you carried on, cementing your heels into the dirtied sand to anchor yourself.

“Stop resisting,” A harsh voice spoke into your ear, nails breaking the surface of your tender skin as you nipped at the air, wriggling. Your limbs felt mangled as you were thrown over someone’s shoulder, your stomach caving in with a penetrative force as you choked on the air, saline tears streaming down your face.

Aching skin collided with the sand as you were thrown onto the floor, leather boots staring back at you as your head cocked up. His figure was tall, dressed in all black with a row of medals displayed on his breast pocket. His stare was dark, irises the colour of burnt whiskey, pale lashes flickering down at you before looking back up. The rest of his face was covered by a woven garment, handcrafted to perfection, painted with a white skull.

“Did you find it necessary to throw her at my feet like she’s some dog?”

“Your Majesty she was res-“

“It is a yes or no question.”

His voice was thick with malt, a hidden arrogance underlying his words as his eyes spoke for him. A veiny hand was offered to you, light scars tracing his knuckles before he lifted you, admiring you for a brief second.

“She’ll do. I’ll be back in 6 months,” The King spoke roughly.

The sea breeze was tranquil given the circumstances, the ocean rocking your tears to a halt as you huddled yourself away in the captain’s quarters. Your body was trailed with layers of silk, dirtied clothes moulded to your skin as you sniffled. There was a vast smell of salt, almost suffocating you as it burnt through your nose and hair. You scrunched your skin, rubbing at your nostrils before nestling yourself into a pillow.

You awoke to the sound of commotion. You took in the handful of women surrounding you, their hair tied back in a tight bun, protected by a frilly cap. They wore black and white dresses, aprons attached to their fronts and smiles on their faces.

“Good evening, your majesty. Shall we run you a bath?”

You sat up, hands creasing against the sheets below you as your eyes adjusted to the new scenery. You weren’t on the ship anymore.

“Where am I?” You choked out, huffing your chest out to look more intimidating. In reality, you look cowered, skin droopy with betrayal, burst blood vessels evident under your eyes.

“In your private quarters, the King requested we come to you, settle you in.”

You scowled, “I just want to be alone.” They left in a hurry, feet skidding against the floor in a squeak as they shut the large oak doors behind them.

The room was one for Royalty. The large bed was dressed in golden sheets, red swirls detailing the plush headpieces, solid gold baubles along the edges as tall stakes met the ceiling, lace hanging from them for privacy. Your feet hit the polished marble floors; calloused skin not used to such luxury that you almost yelped in unfamiliarity. Glass trickled from the overhead chandelier, an arrangement of crystals advocating flickers of light across the room, an occasional rainbow seeping through like a diamond in the rough.

Oil paintings hung from the walls, detailed gold wrapping around them as the figurines stared at you dauntingly. A plethora of books rested on shelves, a comforting sofa tucked away in the corner, highlights of red bursting through the stuffed pillows, plucked by the finest of feathers.

The room felt suffocating, the air a terminal sickness that wove into your lungs as you realised the severity of the situation. Your father – your parents, had sold you away to the King to pay for lost taxes. You were a miserable sight as you huddled over onto the floor, chest collapsing with cries as you attempted to grip the material beneath your knees, desperate for the sensation of sand.

Simon watched you intently from the door as he cracked it open, a deafening cough sounding from him as you looked up at him, bewildered.

“I understand the circumstances aren’t the best, but your people owed me, and they chose you as collateral.”

“I want to go home,” you hiccupped, facing away from him in humiliation. His leather shoes hit the floor, striding up to you in only a few steps.

“This is your home now, and in a few weeks, we shall be wedded. Whether or not you choose to invite your family is up to you, but I shall not tolerate disrespect. If you didn’t want the maids to tend to you, that’s fine, but I will.”

You watched his stalking figure disappear into another room attached to your quarters, the heavy pour of water indicating that he was running you a bath. You rose to your feet anxiously, popping your head around the corner as you took in the room. A large tub was carved with porcelain, wide in size with golden feet, bubbles guzzling under the powerful stream as the scent of lavender filled the air.

“Undress,” He spoke as you cocked a brow.

“In front of you?” You scoffed.

“You didn’t want the maids, now you have me. Undress.”

Your clothes itched as they were ridden from your skin, bare body flushed under the light as you attempted to conceal yourself from his bruising vision. The water scolded you as you sunk in, muscles relaxing instantly under the soothing oil. It was an irregular feeling.

You heard him shuffle behind you as you turned, eyes gawking wide as you took in his naked figure, cock resting low against his thigh. A squeak slipped through your lips as you turned around in a fluster.

His mask was off, his face a welcoming surprise. His brows were thick, bulging above slit frames, his nose slightly crooked with a masculine appeal to him.

“What are you doing?” you gasped, chest tight, eyes bulging.

“Bathing,” he practically snarled, “move over.”

Your belly felt hot, the unknowing feeling of arousal seeping through your pores as you adjusted in the water, the liquid rising as he stepped in before you were pulled back against him, bottom flushed against his thighs. You were tense.

“Relax, it’s just a bath. We will not do anything until you’re ready but after marriage, I will need heirs.”

“Heirs? I don’t even know your name!”

A hand coiled around your waist, tugging at the tender skin for a moment before it rested, settling at your upper thigh.

“It’s Simon, Y/N.”

“How do you- “

“What kind of King would I be if I didn’t even know the name of the woman I’m marrying?”

The air was hazy with steam, almost suffocating you as you felt yourself relax against his hard chest, delicate twirls of hair tickling against your spine. As your body settled, Simon washed you, entwined rag lubed with delicate soap as he massaged it into the crevices of your skin, any dirt seeping into the water. His fingers were long as they massaged against your scalp, digging any knots out with a gentle force before rinsing it.

You found yourself refreshed as you settled into the sheets once more, body fresh with a floral scent, skin drenched in almond oil, the glistening reflecting against the flame of the fireplace. The bed sunk in as Simon crawled in next to you, menacing frame wracking against yours. It was silent, the usual sound of waves and birds no longer hushing you to sleep.

Your fingers twitched as you played with the hem of your nightgown, letting out a low, exhausted breath.

“I shall not hurt you for as long as you are mine, Y/N. I hope you grow to trust me and understand that I am a man of my word. If you allow me, I would like to show you who I am and the life you can have here.”

You swallowed. There was an itch inside you that couldn’t be scratched, his words only adding fuel to an uncontrollable flame as you turned to face him, cocked up on one arm. Your gown hung low, strap dangerously low on your shoulder as he adjusted his vision back to your face, lips parted with a flushed manner.

“I’ve never experienced anything before.” Your voice was low, an evident streak of self-consciousness staining it as you averted your gaze.

“Let me help you.”

Rugged fingers lifted your gown up, silk resting against your stomach in a hunched manner as Simon gripped at your thighs, spreading them lewdly. He huffed out a hum of appreciation as you jolted in embarrassment. You were so open, so exposed to fresh eyes.

“No one’s ever touched you here?” He asked. You shook your head, gazing down at him with an unspoken innocence. You felt his lips curl against your thigh as he placed a gentle kiss to it, letting it rest against the warm skin before two fingers pulled apart your lips, glistening folds presented before him.

You felt pleasure tickle up your spine as the King placed a small kiss against your clit, a mewl escaping you as you instinctively attempted to press your thighs together. He let out a tsk as he looked up at you, amused by your reaction.

“Relax for me,” he said, arms flushed around your thighs before his tongue soaked up the middle, your juices drenching his lips as you squealed, your fingers wrapping into his dusty hair as he ravaged the taste of you.

The noises you made were wanton, slopping breaths soaking the air as he worked against you, slurping you into his mouth with an aggravated need for you. His teeth grazed against your sensitive clit, wrapping his lips around it before sucking, an obscene scream sounding from you as he continued the assault.

“Taste so fucking good,” he quipped, holding your belly down in place as your hips lifted, clit overstimulated by the amount of pleasure it only just began receiving.

“Sim-Simon, I feel strange- somethings happening,” you croaked, pulling at his hair in an attempt to stop him.

“Let it happen,” he growled, his tongue thrusting against your entrance as a finger pressed against your nub, rubbing it in circular motions as you began to hold your breath.

The pressure in your belly was turmoil like an unknown danger was approaching. Simon didn’t stop, the sound of your breath hicking stirring something primal inside of him as he held you down before the pressure inside you popped, a broken whine piercing the air as you came, hips rocking desperately against the King’s face as he growled against your heat.

He pulled away, spit slick against his chin, cocky smile on his face as you panted, chest rising and falling in a synchronised fashion. Your legs closed instinctively, wetness seeping between your bottom as you shivered, satisfied clit throbbing.

“I’m not done yet, sweetheart.”

[unboundprompts]

Hello! Could you do a cowboy/wild west terms & phrases?

Thank you!

Cowboy / Wild West Terms and Phrases

-> The Chief Storyteller

-> Cowboyaccountant

A Lick and a Promise - to do haphazardly.

Above Snakes - If you were “above snakes,” you were above ground; still alive.

Acknowledge the Corn - admit the truth, to confess a lie, or acknowledge an obvious personal shortcoming.

An Invite to a Dance - could mean shooting at a man’s feet to make him dance.

Bake - to overheat a horse by riding too fast, long, or hard.

Barkin’ at a Knot - Doing something useless; wasting your time, trying something impossible.

Barn sour - horse that loves his stall; speeds up the pace as he nears the barn on the journey home.

Bedroll - Blankets rolled and carried for sleeping.  Also called sugans, soogans, hot rolls, or dream sacks.

Bee in Your Bonnet -  An idea.

Boondocks, Boonies - far from civilization.

Broom-Tail -  a negative term for an ill-behaved or ugly horse, often a horse that looks or acts like a mustang.

Burn the Breeze - ride at full speed.

Chuckwagon - A wagon used to carry food on a cattle drive, which also serves as a mobile kitchen.

Clipped his Horns -  took him down a notch or two; referring to a fight or a braggart.

Cowboss -  In charge of the cattle operation on a ranch.  They choose where the cowboys will ride and hire and fire cowboys.  Answers to the general manager or ranch owner.

Curly wolf -  real tough guy, dangerous man.

Dilly-dally - loiter or vacillate.

Flannel mouth - overly smooth or fancy talker, especially politicians or salesmen. 

Night-Wrangler -  A cowboy that herds and cares for the saddle horses during the night. 

Pull in your horns -  back off, quit looking for trouble.

Rustler -  A horse or cattle thief.

That Dog Won’t Hunt - That idea or argument isn’t going to work. Or, the person saying it doesn’t believe what you’re saying.

Will Die Standin’ Up -  brave

If you like what I do and want to support me, please consider buying me a coffee! I also offer editing services and other writing advice on my Ko-fi! Become a member to receive exclusive content, early access, and prioritized writing prompt requests.

[ptn-imagines]

Fem reader with Langley and I'm giving you full control of it because I have way too many ideas and if I'd try to write them it'd be too much

Also good luck with the new blog!!!

Here you go, anon! Thanks for your patience. If you're looking for NSFW headcanons (with gender-neutral, top!Chief) you can find them here! If you want more, feel free to send in more requests, and don't be afraid to send multiple requests if it's needed!

Placed beneath a cut because, while not explicit, some content can be interpreted as NSFW.

Langley x F!Chief

Both Langley and the Chief are very busy, so they don’t have very much time to spare for each other. The little details are important to them as a result, and they’ve figured out how to incorporate their work into their relationship without it feeling like the relationship had become a chore.

Even something as simple as a mission report can be romantically charged for them. Chief used to write up her reports, but now she chooses to report to Langley on all but the busiest of days – just to feel her girlfriend’s electrifying gaze upon her, to bask in her entrancing smirk and approving nods over a mission well-done. Chief lives for Langley’s words of praise – a merit not won solely by virtue of being her girlfriend, as the spider is not one for dishonest flattery, but one certainly not harmed by the fact.

On breaks, after mission reports, or simply whenever they have free time, it’s not unusual to find the Chief in Langley’s office. Most commonly, the two of them will sit around and bond over Langley’s home-brewed coffee, discussing whatever comes to mind – often it’s work, both of them far too entrenched in their jobs than is perhaps healthy, but sometimes it’s more personal things.

Langley’s coffee is the Chief’s personal nectar. Not only does it have a divine taste, the aroma and flavor of it is so distinct to the coffee Langley makes, and Chief has never been able to replicate it. Even if Langley is called away on urgent business during one of their chats, being left in an office that so clearly belongs to her girlfriend while enveloped in the scent and taste of the coffee is more than enough to set oft-reftless nerves at ease.

These two rarely have time for physical intimacy, but when they do, it happens in one of three places: a broom closet, Langley’s office, or the back seat of a 9th Agency car.

The broom closet is neither of their favorites, and is reserved pretty much solely for when the two of them need to hold and kiss each other, now. It only ever lasted for a few minutes, barely enough to mess up Langley’s tie.

The Chief prefers Langley’s office; it’s a lot more spacious and open, and Langley can always lock the door. If she really needs to hide, there’s always under the desk. Langley doesn’t mind this option, but she doesn’t prefer it, all too aware of security cameras that could expose them.

Langley herself is fond of the 9th Agency’s cars. While Chief gets a little jittery due to the driver, Langley trusts entirely in her subordinate’s abilities to mind their own business, and there’s a partition anyway. She revels in being able to pull Chief onto her lap and kiss them deeply, teasing them with touching – and she’s not ashamed to tell the driver to take a scenic route

Their relationship doesn’t have a defined “when” or “how.” Neither of them is quite sure when they became more than just boss and subordinate, but to both of them it seems like an unimportant detail. The way their relationship worked was right for them, and yeah, it may not look like the traditional idea of romance, but they were happy and in love, so why did it matter?

[tunastime]

80 for spotify wrapped writing game!

hi midna!! long time no see!! so I know it's not target audience per se, but you got 24 by flor, and that's such a xisuma SEN (space au!) song that I had to make something for that, it overcame me. I don't know what happened. slight tw for injury!

(421 words)

Xisuma stands up.

The mirror beside him is still shattered down the side, large chunks of square plasti-glass scattered over the floor. Each of them is cracked in such a way that Xisuma’s marred face makes fractals when he looks through them—bits of eye, bits of bandage, bits of cheek and chin, bits of dull hair. He sweeps, collecting the shards into a small pile. The sink is still cracked, too, from the force. He sweeps to the edge of the bathroom, a long stretch of glass and dark red-brown blood, dried to a tack on the floor. It stretches from the point of impact (sink) to where Xisuma managed to pool the blood in his own hands, desperate for gauze (cabinet) and to where it dripped through his fingers (door).

He catches a second glimpse of himself in the shattered mirror—his face looks tired, eyes underlined with grey half-moons and his suit more rumpled than usual. It takes him a moment to look away. It’s like he’s not even looking at himself. Every picture he owns with his face in it, he’s a young captain—the youngest, they always said, not even 20 by the time he’d had his own ship—unmarred and bright-eyed and so different than what he is now. He supposes he expected to be the same, at least a bit, somehow. 

He scrapes dried blood from the floor. There’s movement in the hallway, around the corner, people passing in and out of rooms as they clean the ship. They’ve long since started their trip back at this point—tidying and fixing up broken parts for the ship to be reused, both by Xisuma himself and by any seconds in command at his stead when they return. Seconds. Right. Yeah. He’s not spoken to Doc since they lost Tango, has he?

Xisuma puts the broom down. He’d forgotten that, actually. Shame that is. That they’d not talked in a minute. It’s neither of their faults, really, just, with cleaning, and with the paperwork Doc had to fill out, for the arm, and the calibration, and telling Xisuma he’d talk to the Chief about everything, so that X didn't have to. Yeah. He’d just gotten so distracted trying to fix everything before their arrival next week, so it had just happened that way.

The shards get swept into the dust pan, and the contents dust pan disposed of in the trash chute. The bathroom looks dull, now, along with himself, sleek and grey and cold. Xisuma squares his shoulders.

It’s fine. At least the blood didn’t go into his eyes, right?

He takes up the broom and leaves the room, leaving the shattered mirror behind him. His visage disappears in chunks—shoulders, legs, neck, head.

(spotify wrapped ask meme)

[zakumipink]

🔸The Sims 4

Current games, because I have a lot of characters and alternate universes, but I like to play with my OTP of the moment.

Law and Sabo, base 2017. Base skin, soft, tries to maintain a visual resemblance to the anime. I only use it for photos or gifs.

Law and Sabo, base 2024. Remastered, more realistic skin. Law's tattoos look better, It's not finished yet.

Law and Sabo, base 2022 My favorites: Law, Sabo and his son Roule. First expansion (Get to Work), Fifth expansion (4 Seasons) and Thirteenth expansion (Growing Together) mainly. I have played many challenges with these sims, such as "Rags to Riches", "100 Babies Challenge" and others, They even dated as teenagers, got married in college, and survived the mysterious attack of the mother plant in StrangerVille... Law is the Chief of Staff of the Hospital, as a Surgeon. Sabo is a househusband, but works sporadically editing books, making paintings, floristry or baking desserts. Modern AU

AU Vampires Base 2022 with CC Gothic and the fourth expansion. Family of vampires, live in Forgotten Hollow. Sabo was turned by Law, so Ace and Luffy are humans. Roule is a vampire child, Law works as Art Critic and Sabo is writer. I have a vampire-based fanfic (Lucky One) although it has nothing to do with the game, but it helps me imagine their reactions.

AU Mermaids. Law is a Marine Biologist and Sabo is a mermaid. Base 2022, Seventh expansion (Island Living) and MOD Expanded Mermaids (SpinningPlumbobs). They live in Sulani, Sabo likes to cause bad weather so Law doesn't go to work (lol), Law collect stones, metals, crystals, fish, frogs... I have a fanfic based on this (The Drowned Song) but it's not the same either, it just uses the idea of mermaid Sabo getting legs when he comes out of the sea.

AU Magic. Base 2022, with CC of fairies, witches and residential houses with lots of plants or mushrooms... Eleventh expansion (Cottage Living) and the MOD Fairies vs Witches; Unicorns MOD (SpinningPlumbobs) Law is a wizard, he collects everything, studies spells and his ability requires lunar energy. Sabo is a fairy who lived in the Wild Glade, but left her home when he married Law, who is his natural enemy. They have a son: Roule, who does not have fairy wings yet, but maybe I'll get them. I haven't decided yet. Sabo is a florist, he uses his powers to take care of the plants and he loves to fish.

AU Royalty. Base 2022, with Medieval CC, elves and magic. Eleventh expansion (Cottage Living), Royal Family Mod (KiaraSims4Mods), Regencia Romance (JaneSimsten) and Unicorns MOD (SpinningPlumbobs) Law and Sabo are the kings of the northern elves, they have a daughter named Eira and live in the Sanctuary. They participate in activities such as hunting, archery, ballroom dancing, horse, rabbit and bird breeding...They have a fairly quiet life, their employees take care of everything. They are five-star celebrities. I wrote a fanfic with them, although it is very different, but I liked their daughter and that they lived in a sanctuary where they give them offerings.

AU Wizard. Base 2022, with CC Steampunk, witches and dragons. Eighth pack (Realm of magic) and Unicorns MOD (SpinningPlumbobs), Expanded Realm Of Magic (Zero's Sims) Law is a sorcerer and Sabo is a dragon, who adopts his anthropomorphic form to accompany him in his world. Sabo is a fan of jewels, gold and crystals, but in addition to stealing shiny things also likes to set fires... Law as a sorcerer, learns spells, potions, catches creatures, collects objects and uses a broom to fly, although nothing stresses him out as much as taking care of Sabo. They live in Glimmerbrook.

I have the classic Mods for pregnancy, professions, bassemental, drama, WW, food recipes and all the expansions up to "For Rent" the fifteenth.

I have not updated.

[uhdrienne]

𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫 ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

05. he made sense though

🌼 warnings: mentions of a creep, injuries

🌼 word count: ~2.7k

"Y/N!!"

"Delia?? What are you doing back here?"

She shrugs. "I quit."

"What?!" You exclaim.

She looks at you. "Some creep wouldn't stop bothering me," She says lightheartedly, but one look at her expression tells you she's not feeling too great at all. "The doctor wouldn't take action even when she saw it in the flesh. Said something about not ruining our reputation. So I left." She promptly bursts into tears, and you're quick to draw her into a tight hug.

"Oh, god." You murmur. "Okay. It's okay. You're safe now, Dee. Come on in first."

"I'm jobless!" She chokes out a laugh through her tears, as you settle her on your couch. "Amazing, huh?"

"No, don't think like that," You insist, before a bright idea pops into your head. "Work with me. Over here. You like the village, don't you?"

"What? I-I do, but-"

"I don't have a nurse right now," You explain, getting more excited. "I could use the help."

She looks up at you, hope creeping into her face. "Really?"

"Yeah. It would be amazing if you stayed with me," You breathe out.

She squeals and tackles you. Amid her excited ramble of thanks, you catch the hint of relieved laughter

Loud bangs on your door wake you and Delia up.

"What the..." Delia grits out, shoving a pillow over her face. "It's 8am!"

You pull yourself out from the warm covers, and very grumpily, open the door to see Wonwoo. "Come on out," He says. "We have weekly village cleaning on Saturdays."

"It's a weekend!" You exclaim. "Who in their right mind wakes up this early --"

"We do," Wonwoo smirks at your cranky state. "Ten minutes. See you out there."

"See you never," You mutter, and he turns back to you to warn, "You better go get ready. Don't go back to sleep."

"You can't make me."

"Don't make me pull out the megaphone."

You huff and close the door.

He pulls out the megaphone. Right. At. Your. Doorstep.

And so fifteen minutes later, you find yourself in the ugliest neon green vest ever, a broom in your hands, sweeping the streets with a grumpy and groggy Delia by your side. Joshua and Seungkwan come by to say hello to your best friend, and Delia brightens up considerably after Seungkwan compliments her hair.

"He's so charming!" She sighs after they walk away, as you half-heartedly sweep up some dead leaves.

"Mmhmm. Got it." You don't even process her words, only scowling at the annoyingly dapper town chief.

"Y/N! We have a patient!"

You leave your office and to the counter, where you find Wonwoo and one of the grandmas you handled squids with standing together. You bow, and take the grandma's chart for a look.

"Grandma Lee," You read off the paper. "Pain in the elbow, extending to the wrist..."

"She does heavy work by the docks sometimes. You handled squids with her," Wonwoo supplies.

"Okay, got it. Would you come with me? We'll take a look."

Ten minutes, later, after a series of questions and quick presses to the painful areas, you conclude.

"So, you'll probably need a form of therapy," You say. "A few weeks' worth of exercises and physio to relax the surrounding joints and let it heal. It might be because of the constant strain and pulling. I'll get some pain relief for you in the meantime, but don't rely only on it. Healing the injury is key."

Wonwoo nods, and checks to make sure Grandma Lee understands.

"Doctor?" Grandma Lee speaks up.

"Yes?' You turn to her. "Any questions about the treatment?"

"How much would it cost?"

"Ah, your insurance will cover most of it."

"How much would I need to pay?" Grandma Lee looks up at you from her chair.

"It really differs by the number of sessions." You ponder. "But as a ballpark..." You scribble down a rough estimation, and her eyes widen as she sees the figure.

"Oh, that's so expensive!" The lady exclaims. "I wouldn't spend so much money just on my arm. Forget it."

"Grandma-" Wonwoo tries to interrupt.

"There are home-based exercises that we can try out if the cost doesn't work out for you," You attempt to placate her. "However, doing them under guidance is much better so you don't risk getting injured and making it wor-"

"Oh, never mind that," She says impatiently. "I'll just have painkillers."

"Please don't worry. I know medical prices can be very burdensome. We can discuss this further only after you're properly healed," You console. "Right now, the payment isn't my concern. The pain seems to be quite serious in some places--"

Wonwoo takes her arm as she tries to get up. "Grandma, why don't we hear the doctor out and consider it first? She's a professio-"

"Nothing pain medicine can't fix," She complains as you address her.

"Ma'am," You explain. "Injuries aren't always something you can fix with painkillers. If we don't fix the root cause, the pain will persist and it might get worse-"

"Hey, you don't have to scare her-" Wonwoo seems alarmed.

"Do you happen to be... in need of financial aid?" You blurt out in a moment of weakness.

"Hey!" Wonwoo starts, eyes widening.

"What?" Grandma Lee asks, looking offended. "Who do you take me for- I'll have you know, the land I own here is bigger than others! My kid works at a high-end company in Seoul. Do you think, what, I can't afford it?"

"Okay, um..." You blow out a breath, and look back down at your clipboard, clicking your pen shut. "Then...why don't you discuss this with your son first? We can do another consultation and see what we can do once we're all on the same page."

"Fine!" Grandma Lee retorts angrily, before pushing herself up and hobbling out of the room. Wonwoo starts to call for her, but she's already gone. He whirls on you.

"Did you have to?" Wonwoo asks exasperatedly.

"What?" You ask, annoyed.

"Ask about financial aid and all of that shit -- is that really what a doctor should say?"

"I asked because she was being stubborn."

"Stubborn-- have you thought that she maybe doesn't want to bother her family with the fees?" Frustration is laced into Wonwoo's words, his voice slightly louder than before.

"No, I haven't thought about it." You answer angrily, without missing a beat. "And I don't really understand that. She would rather endure the pain than get it resolved, just for her son?"

"Why are you like this?" Wonwoo half-shouts, getting up. "Look...I don't have time for this. You-"

"Neither do I," You say, folding your arms. "And please don't overreact. You're not her legal guardian."

He shoots you a glare, full of hurt and disappointment, before he grits out, "People really don't change so easily, do they." He then turns on his heel and storms out of the room.

Sighing, you return to perusing her chart.

You're still pondering over it that evening, and Delia is about to lose her marbles over your brooding when you get a text from Wonwoo.

"Meet me at the harbour."

When you reach the same spot where you ran into Joshua and Seungkwan and Wonwoo, this time it's just the chief alone. You sit a small distance away from him. "What is it?"

"She called her son earlier," He begins with no preamble. "And he said he wanted to wait a while since he's paying off the kids' school fees and he hasn't gotten his promotion."

You stay quiet. You know about the financial issues patients sometimes face. You've already made your decision to cure her after a long think and consulting with Delia, but you decide to listen anyway.

"We've told you about Grandma Lee." He starts. "And you know how she is. She wouldn't spend money on her treatment because she doesn't want to tell her family and stress them out. Her son has a family to support."

You stay silent, but he says nothing about it. He turns to you fully. "What I'm saying is, I'll pay for her treatment. Just don't tell her it was me. Say... say you had some kind of free treatment or something."

"I can't," You say immediately. "I have to be responsible for anything I do as a doctor. If I'm trying to help her get better, it would be unethical if I didn't inform her of the whole process from treatment to payment, black-and-white."

"Fine," Chief Jeon nods in understanding. "Make up any excuse within your limits. Just don't say it was me."

"Why are you being stubborn on this, too?" You ask softly.

"Grandma Lee raised me," He insists. "We take care of the people we love. She never likes to trouble her son--"

"So she just bears with the pain?" You interrupt, then sigh slightly. "That's a little selfish."

"Selfish?" Wonwoo says exasperatedly. "She's the most selfless woman I know. How could you even say that?"

"Because it's frustrating to watch." You look down at your hands.

"Don't you know anything about sacrifice?" Wonwoo confronts you hotly. "She's sacrificed so many things her whole life--"

"Why are you getting upset?" You retort, becoming just as irate. "Do you know what it means to be a good parent?"

He goes quiet, and so you continue, eyes blazing. "It means taking care of themselves and staying healthy for a long time."

His eyes flick back to yours, anger immediately draining from them. You ignore it and keep going.

"They shouldn't be putting aside their well-being in the name of not burdening their family!" You exhale sharply. "They should care for their own health the most, for the good of themselves and their loved ones. She shouldn't be putting herself through so much pain and letting herself suffer. Don't you get it?"

And with the outburst, you get to your feet and storm off. Wonwoo watches you leave.

Once you get back through the door you pass Delia's closed door, go to your room, and sink into a chair. You hated it, disliked the feeling so much, but something about Grandma Lee just couldn’t tear you away from her case. You rub your eyes in exhaustion.

We take care of the people we love.

It looks like you had a grandma to visit.

"Is anyone home?" You mutter as you enter her front yard the next evening.

"Who's that?" You can hear her voice and her footsteps as she ambles slowly out of her house.

"Oh. It's you," She says as she catches sight of you. You wonder if it's too late to turn back and escape, but you make yourself stay put, and bow to her. "Grandma Lee."

She sighs. "Since you're already here, might as well eat. Have you had dinner?"

As your head shakes no awkwardly, she tuts something about not eating properly before she ushers you into her home, to a seat at her table. You try to refuse, but she waves you away and goes back to her kitchen, and before long you hear the clangs as she makes a tray and sets it before you.

"Go on, eat!" She says as she opens a steaming bowl of soup. "I made these fresh myself, using kimchi we made. Try it."

You murmur a soft thank-you to her before you cautiously take a bite.

It tastes...like what you would have at heaven's gates. Rich and flavourful, the kimchi adds just the right tang of sour and crunch. "It's... really good,” You mumble quietly.

"Oh, that's good. I was afraid it wasn't good, you know. Nowadays, I'm not as agile as before. Bending over and making kimchi gets harder as you age. I ache everywhere after I make it." She chuckles awkwardly, and you smile softly along with her.

"And your arm wouldn't make it easier since it's in pain, right?" You attempt probing a step further, and she sighs and shakes her head. "I guess not."

"Then how could you think just painkillers would solve the problem?" You admonish, no anger in your words, and she smiles sheepishly.

But just like that, the tension eases a little, and you're relieved when she reverts to her slightly chatty self, going on about how doctors should be eating more to keep themselves going.

It feels like your own grandma watching to make sure you ate well, and you're maybe, just probably, starting to understand why Wonwoo adores her so much. Her presence is comforting, like a confidant you could come home to.

After you eat she brings you outside to the yard with some chilled barley. You sit with her on the porch as she tells you childhood stories of Wonwoo and Joshua and Seungkwan, and how they were called The Little Daredevils, and she pauses when she gets to Wonwoo leaving the town for a good three years. You smile at the right places, and look at the way her greying hair (white in some places) blows in the breeze as the sun sets and night falls.

"Ah, that boy," She sighs as she massages her feet and you pour her a cup of barley. "I was worried when he left, you know. And he didn't call anyone back here. He was different when he came back. Not the energetic chief we see now."

You nod awkwardly, remembering your spat with him. "I see. I'm glad he got better, didn't he?"

"He even offered to pay for the treatment!" She says, before shaking her head in fond exasperation. "He's mischievous, but he's a good man."

"...He is," You affirm, rather reluctantly. You cast your eyes down and shake your head as you recall his prior attempts to explain Grandma's situation to you. God, how he would laugh when he found out about this!

"And my son said to hold off on the treatment, so..."

That helps you recall why you're here in the first place.

"Grandma Lee, I came to tell you... come back to the clinic." You mumble.

She looks up, startled at your direct words. "Hm?"

"I might not be able to give you a hundred percent discount," You tug at the hem of your dress nervously. "But... I thought about it, and Wonwoo spoke to me... I wanted to apologise. I should at least try to understand your hardships. So...I won't charge you full price. Maybe just for the consultation."

"Oh..."

"Don't tell anyone, though," You try for a smile. "It can be our secret."

"If it's bad for business, you don't need--" She begins, flustered, but you wave your hands in refusal, face flushing. "It's not that, really."

She waits for you to continue.

"I won't get to see my parents retire and move to a peaceful place," You say quietly. "I won't be able to see them get to your age, or see them make kimchi and cook delicious things. So... I just thought I should try my best to give you more chances to do what you like. You shouldn't be in pain if you want to do it all."

You avoid eye contact, fiddling with your fingers, staring at the glowing lamppost, the peeling green paint of her gate, and the worn-out slippers on her feet, everywhere but at her, as she surveys you for what feels like forever, a mix of curiousity and sympathy laced in her expression.

When she finally reaches out to take your hand and pat it silently and gently with hers, wrinkled and lined with the wisdom of her years, the way grandmas always do, you let her.

She sighs. "Wonwoo really is a nag, isn't he."

The sudden lament coaxes a huff of laughter out of you. "I have to admit he made sense though."

It felt beyond strange to concede to the village chief for once, but when Grandma smiles and continues patting your hand, you couldn't help but think you finally did something right.

Wonwoo leans back, hands behind his head as he lies down on the ground. The red lighthouse glows in the distance and the sound of the waves fill his ears. Your voice fills his head

"Do you know what it means to be a good parent?"

"It means taking care of themselves and staying healthy for a long time."

He blows out a breath. It looked like he had a doctor to visit, and not for medical purposes.

𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫 ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

🌼 summary: going back to the countryside where you grew up was at the bottom of your list. unexpectedly, your life changes course, and you eventually find your home in weekly village cleaning, the sound of the waves, and with the local jack-of-all-trades, jeon wonwoo.

🌼 pairing: wonwoo x reader fic (fluff, angst, hometown chachacha!inspired)

🌼 genre(s): fluff, mild angst, yn can be mean sometimes at the start (this is inspired by the kdrama hometown cha-cha-cha, so some parts of the plot and characters are similar), wonwoo is an overall sweetheart

ch.05: he made sense though

prev. masterlist. next.

🌼taglist: @gaslysainz @lev1hei1chou

writer's note: soo... i hope she's trying to be better...? hahaha thank you for reading!!

[stellariders]

pascal confiscates everyone’s phones at lunch?? what is this middle school lmao. but he also questions kelly about working with his wife…? tf he needs to back up

[redsaurrce]

DRINK ME UP - 1

Part-2 Part-3

Synopsis : After seeing another man beside you holding you by your waist, Jungkook couldn't help but get utterly wasted. What do you see when you go to him? What happens that night?

Pairing : YANDEREJeon Jungkook x dancer fem!reader

Genre : SMUT, drunk jk!au

Word count : 2.02 K

Warnings : 18+, YANDERE AND OBSESSIVE THEMES, EXTREME JEALOUSY, kissing, Profanity, nipple play, alcohol, fingering, penetration, wine used in explicit activity (ah shit here I go again o.o), signs of cheating and betrayal

A/N: SOOOOO... we are a family of nine hundred *EN AAI EN EE= na-een* which rhymes with? That's true - DABLU AAI EN EE- Wa-een! Let's have wine party everyoneeeeee 🥂 *clicks glass!!* THANKYOU TO EVERY SINGLE ONE OF YOUUUUU 💗💗💗

Jungkook looked at the bright lit stage go dim all of a sudden, the very moment when you were to set foot on the stage, all the lights now focused upon you. He loved to see you shine so much, he loved to see when you would do what you loved, which was dancing.

Today shouldn't have been any different, he would've loved everything he was looking at right now but he couldn't feel an ounce of joy.

Not when he noticed how your dance partner had his hand snaked around your waist, not when you both danced ever so closely. People cheered on over your performance, they called you the beauty of the night but Jungkook could hear nothing. The only thing his brain was focused on was you and your partner's audacity to touch you like he owned you.

He inhaled sharply as he felt his chest tighten with every passing second, even though he wanted to snatch you away from him right then and there, he wouldn't. He knew very well how much you have practiced for today's show since past few months, he couldn't ruin that.

So he gulped hard and got up from his seat to leave the auditorium by himself.

When your performance got over, the entire atmosphere lit up with cheers, claps and whistles and when your happy eyes tried to search for your lover cheering for you in the audience, he was nowhere to be found.

Causing you feel a little bad. "It was amazing to work with you Y/N, my wife wanted to treat us to a meal, if possible you should bring your boyfriend along with you." He said happily and you both walked towards the lounge after being greeted by the chief guests.

You smiled, "Sure, it seems I can't get a hold of my boyfriend, I'll just have a quick meal with you two, is that alright?" You asked as you kept looking here and there for Jungkook to pop up.

He nodded, "Ofcourse, that'll be great! Let's go then." He said and you both walked out of the lounge.

You were texting Jungkook but he was not responding back making you worried, did he go to home already? You mentally asked yourself upon not seeing his car in the parking lot. You quickly brought out the keys of your car since you both have actually come spearately, given how you had to come earlier for rehearsel.

-.

When you arrived home, you saw Jungkook drinking alcohol while his whole bedroom was a mess. You hurriedly dropped your bag and jacket and went near him. "Gosh Jungkook how much did you drink?" You asked as you sat on the bed next to his drunk figure. You counted the bottles, "fucking four??" then your eyes shifted to two more bottles crushed in pieces lying on the floor.

"Fuck." You cursed under your breath as you looked at them, you hissed as you got up to get a broom to set aside the glass pieces but he caught your wrist as soon as you stood up.

You turned to look at him and he pulled you causing you to sit on his lap. "Baby whom do you love?" He asked you as his voice hitched due to the effects of alcohol. Your surprised expression due to his sudden action melted into a soft smile, "You, ofcourse." You said as you started caressing his rosy cheeks.

You knew Jungkook was a ten but he was WAYYY too clingy, Jungkook liked whenever you did these kind of little actions like carressing his cheeks, patting his head, kissing his forehead.

He pulled you closer catching you off guard. His face just a mere centimeters away from you, he whispered, "Really?" He asked you.

"Yes." You answered.

"Are you sure?" He asked you again while shifting himself even more closer to you. "I am." Your heart started hammering in your chest and you said with the slightest of movement of your lips, you were afraid that it would touch his.

He shifted even more closer, finally causing both of your lips to touch and spoke, "How sure are you?" He pecked your lips. "I.." and before you could utter the next word he pecked your lips again, "Answer me." He pecked your lips for the third time.

And when you opened your mouth to answer him, he attached his mouth to yours with force causing you to fall backwards on the sofa while he was above you.

He started kissing you like he starving since decades. In between your kiss you suddenly started feeling something hot run down your cheeks. They were tears, you wanted to stop and ask him what was going on but he didn't budge as he kept on kissing you possessively.

After a while when you both were lacking oxygen, he got up and you finally got to see his face. His eyes were red while tears dried on his cheeks. He looked absolutely heartbroken and it made you feel miserable to see him like this.

"Jungkook baby, what's the matter?" You asked him with worry in your eyes. This is what he needed to see, to see that you still cared for him, that he still was the one in your heart. That he was still yours and you were his.

But that wasn't enough, Jungkook needed to erase the memories of the love of his life standing next to another man who wasn't him, a man who touched you at places where only he was allowed to.

He hurriedly got off from you and took a bottle of wine in his hands, your eyes grew wide, was he going to drink more? "Jungkook please don't drink anymo-"

"Y/N baby." He cut you off as he got above you again, "What is it?" You asked him.

"Isn't alcohol used to disinfect germs?" He asked you while opening the cork of the bottle.

You hummed. "Then let me disinfect you." He said and poured some wine on your legs causing you to flinch from the sensation. He softly chuckled, "Do not worry love, I am only cleaning the unwanted touch- i mean the germs off you. Your skin shouldn't have those." He said and he leaned down to lick your right leg all the way from your feet to your knee.

You looked at him astonished but you couldn't deny that what was coming would be the treat of tonight. So you allowed him to take control over your body.

He repeated the same action with your left leg up until your knee where your skirt was ending.

He sat up and poured the wine on your waist and started lapping on your body like a dog but it started to feel ticklish and hence when you tried to push him away on reflex, he piped you down by groping your breasts. He started massaging them and then ran his fingers around the area of your nipples which had now hardened.

You moaned from the sensation and since he absolutely loved it when you moaned, he slid his other hand inside your skirt and started circling your pussy area.

You were getting wet.

He was getting a boner.

He could no more hold himself back and immediately poured all the wine over your neck till your chest and broke the bottle on the bedside, allowing him to gain a broken piece of the wine bottle to cut your dress apart.

He then tore off your bra making your wine soaked breasts naked under his hungry eyes.

He undressed himself and threw off his shirt away as he leaned down to lick your sweet cherries, he bit them, chewed them and pulled them up with his teeth until your moans became louder.

While his mouth was working on your nipples, his hands took the bottle piece to tear your panty apart and he opened his trousers as well.

When he felt that your vaginal opening hasn't dilated, he bit your nipple way too hard earning him a scream and your legs spread apart letting his dick get more access to get inside.

When it was getting tighter against your walls he flicked your other nipple hard and you were sure you saw stars in your eyes, making your walls relaxed and his penis finally going deep inside.

He started thrusting in and out while his mouth never left your boobs staying at one place, causing your nipples to continuosly stretch and shorten like a spring.

You had held the bedsheets tight while you couldn't stop moaning and screaming and you heard him moan louder as well.

This went on for a long time until you both felt physically exhausted.

He sighed and lied down next to you with his one hand around your waist, another hand fingering you pussy and his mouth suckling your boobs.

You ran your tired hand over his hair, "You cried earlier Jungkook, why?"

He detached his mouth and looked up at you, "Maybe because I was overwhelmed, maybe it was the alcohol?" He said with his smirk as he brought his hand up from your pussy and licked his fingers.

"Either way, I'm glad you're mine." He breathed as he felt his alcohol starring to wear off.

"But..." He continued after he started feeling sober. "But?" You asked.

He contorted his eyebrows, "Why.. is your face changing?" He felt confusion spiral in his head because with every passing moment, you looked more and more different.

No- You- "You! Who are you?" Jungkook got up immediately and shook his head, "Where's Y/N? Who the hell are you."

"Ah.. looks like you're completely sober now, it hurt me everytime you called me by your girlfriend's name but atleast I got to sleep with you. Damn it was such a good sex." The girl whom Jungkook mistook to be you under the heavy influence of alcohol was grinning ear to ear while Jungkook stood there with wide horrified eyes.

"Who knew ditching my husband and Y/N at dinner by making the excuse of having stomachache would grant me such a hot night." She bit her lips seductively while getting closer to him.

Jungkook felt absolutely nauseated, he felt disgusted and most importantly he wanted to kill her. Even if he absolutely wanted to do that, murder won't get him anywhere, it's too complicated to clean the mess up.

So he needed to get away, anywhere as long as it is away from her.

He stomped his way towards the door while the girl followed him behind.

Just when Jungkook opened the door, his worst nightmare came true. You were standing there, speechless with eyes wide open as if a deer was caught in headlights.

The girl beside him, whom you recognised to be your dance partner's wife, interlocked her arms with his and he immediately snatched his arm away. "What the fuck is wrong with you?" Jungkook was beyond frustrated.

"Omg honey, is it because Y/N's here? Why? Didn't you tell earlier that after we sleep together, you'll breakup with her?" She batted her eyelashes.

"Sleep?" You whispered almost doubting yourself if you heard that wrong.

"No Y/N! It's not what you think-"

"Jungkook if you ever truly loved me then be honest, did you both sleep together or no?" You asked, still thinking all this was unbelievable.

Seeing Jungkook wrapped in towel by his waist with another woman wrapped in bedsheet standing next to him, all of this was unbelievable. Were you too easy that Jungkook coaxed you into becoming his girlfriend, telling you how much he loved you every day and night- only to show you this? Were you that naive?

"Y/N we did sleep together but--" "Stop!" You raised your palm to stop him from saying any further. So to Jungkook you were just an easy girl? You wanted to laugh, did he really think of making excuses after his 'but'?

You shook your head, "Jungkook let's breakup and never see each other ever again."

You started running with tears in your eyes, it was going to be a long night with alcohol by your side.

-.

Tysm for making it till the end, your feedback is HIGHLY appreciated 💗 MWAHH!! (Fu*k BRB crying)

[redheadspark]

I'm gonna need #10 with oliver wood 🫶🏻

A/N - This is great for Oliver! Thanks for your request, anon!

Luck

Summary - Two letters changed your fate, but in the best way possible.

Warnings - Just some great fluff for you!

“Babe?  You home?”

You clicked the door shut behind you and locked it with a flick of your wand, hearing the lock go in as you hung you bag and coat then shoved off your boots with your feet.  It was a sigh of relief when you got home, no longer needing to be buried elbow deep in paperwork at the Ministry of Magic and over at the Daily Prophet with your new article that was due in two days.  Thankfully, you had more leniency since you knew the editor in chief from your days at Hogwarts, as long as it was a good read and it would get people to buy copies he would let you slide from time to time.  You were 90 percent anyways, needing another hour before you could send it in for an editing session.

Your apartment was dark, flicking your wand to turn on some of the lights to a low dim and the radio carefully turning on at the lowest setting as you looked in the kitchen with no sign of who you were looking for.

“Another sign of progress at The Ministry of Magic as The Department of Magical Law Enforcement has reported to have several new Aurors that are new to the program.  One of the recruits is The Famous Harry Potter, two of his schoolmates Ron Weasley and Neville Longbottom have joined the Auror branch as well.  The Minister of Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt is in high hopes of the new recruits bringing a new wave of hope and law to our Wiazrding community…”

You tuned out the rest of the broadcast as you were looking into the smaller study that was next to the living room, not seeing him in there since you knew he would be in there from time to time to read up on old book and play.  You were confused, seeing that his shoes were perched where yours were and his Puddlemore United bag was next to the couch.  Maybe he came home early from practice, making you move over to the bedroom door that was partially open.  Poking your head in, your smiled and sighed softly in relief.  

Oliver Wood was sound asleep on the top of your bed, a blanket partially over him and you could hear a soft snore coming from him.  He must be in a deep sleep, you slipping into the room and keeping the door partially open as you tip toed to the side of the bed where he was.  HIs face was half plastered into the pillow, his soft brown hair that was starting to get too long for your liking was tickling your palm as you ran your fingers in his hair.  Almost like a cat he leaned into the touch, you grinning as his arm moved from under the blanket that was over his torso.  Along his tan forearm, right near his wrist and near a birthmark that you knew far too well, were two letters that were etched into his skin.

Your initials: Your soulmate mark.

You two knew each other since your first year in school.  He was kind to you and a good friend, though his mind was mostly on Quidditch and being success to Gryffindor house.  You liked the sport all the same, yet it wasn’t at the same level as Oliver.  Still, you would support him at games since you were in Gryffindor house  too, seeing that he was a natural on the broom and be was beyond happy while playing the game.  It didn’t help that he was easy on the eyes, though you never said it out loud.  You assumed he would never look your way in such a manner, and that was all you thought about really even after graduating Hogwarts.

But of course, your got your soulmate mark at the worst possible time.

It was right after you left Hogwarts and got an internship at the Daily Prophet.  You were running some papers from one reporter to another when you felt it: a dull sensation like a brand along you skin on the inside of your forearm.  Quickly, you ran into the bathroom and looked in the mirror, seeing the two letter there fresh along your skin and you heart skipped a beat.  

OW

Soulmate marks would come at random, there was no set rules to when you would get your mark and the initials of your soulmate.  But once you got yours on your skin, your soulmate would get theirs at the exact same time, almost sealing your fates together at the precise moment. You knew some of your classmates getting theirs when they were seventeen at Hogwarts, needing to meet with Professor Dumbledore to talk about registering as Soulmates with the Ministry of Magic and taking the protocols from there.  Yet most of the time, it happened with adults. 

So looking at the two letters on your forearm, you had no idea what to do.  There was no way to find your soulmate on your own, you had to go to the Ministry of Magic to register your name and then find out the name of your soulmate from there.  Taking in a deep breath, you try to recenter yourself.  It wasn’t a huge deal since you were already in the Ministry of Magic, you jut had to go to another Department and talk to one of the officers there.  So with permission of your boss, you went on your lunch to The Ministry of Magic Public Information Services.  

Walking through the doors of the smaller department, you noticed another person talking to the receptionist already.  You froze, knowing who it was from just seeing the back of him and his silhouette from behind.  Yet the receptionist perked up from seeing you.

“I’ll be with you in a second dear.  I take it you got your mark too, like this fellow?” She asked, gesturing to the man who’s back was still to you.  You were about to say something when the man turned around to look at you, his eyes big and he was holding his wrist in his hand in front of him. You locked eyes, your breath lost for a solid few seconds.

Oliver Wood, with your Initials on his wrist. 

“Mmmm, welcome home,” You heard below you as Oliver open his eyes from his spot on his bed.  You grinned, running your fingers in his hair again to hear him groan in relief, “What time is it?”

“5:45,” You hummed, Oliver rubbing his eyes as you cocked your head at him, “Did you have a good practice  match today?”

“Aye,” He replied, sitting up a bit on the bed and you moved for him, “My coach thinks I should be playin’ in the next match against the Chudley Cannons.”

“Oli, that’s great!” You beamed, giving him a light kiss as he grinned, “We need to tell Harry, Ginny, and the rest of them so we can all come and watch you,”

“Ron may be impartial to that since I’m on one of his opposin’ teams,” Oliver explained as you rolled your eyes, “They’re not too and this year anyways, it should be a good match,”

“I’ll write the owl,” You explained, “And we can go out after the match to celebrate, whether you win or lose. How does that sound?”  

Oliver just smiled at you, his goofy grin that he would only share with you as he reached over to touch your forearm where his initials were.  He traced the O and the W with ease with his pointer finger, a soft smirk on his face as he looked back at you with his soft eyes.  

“Perfect,” he replied.  

Once you and Oliver became soulmates there on that very day in that little Department, your future was still a bit unclear.  Neither one of you have spoken since you graduated from Hogwarts and tried to be in the real world, yet chatting together again seemed very easily and almost too good to be true.  Oliver was fine with the idea of you two building up your friendship first, a normal routine with new soulmates.  Yet at the same time, you were inwardly happy that you both were soulmates to one another.  Your friendship was building hard and fast, and even in the throws of the Ministry of Magic falling to the Death eaters and to Voldemort, you both wanted to say together.  

Voldemort even was threatening to find all the Soulmates and make sure that they were pureblood pairs, wishing to eliminate any pairings that were half blood or muggle born.  You were more worried since you were the only witch in your family, Oliver reassuring you that he would protect you and keep you safe.  And when Oliver was called by his old Gryffindor Quidditch mates to help defend Hogwarts from being destroyed, he wanted you to stay behind and hide.  Yet you denied that request, telling him you would follow your soulmate anywhere.

Your love for another came so organically after that. 

“We should make some dinner,” Oliver said to you as he was about to get up from the bed.  You just shook your head laid down next to him, feeling him wrap you up in his arms as your nestled your head on his chest.

“Let’s stay here for a bit,” You countered back, Oliver chuckling as his fingers moved up and down your spine while his other hand went into your hair.  You both were now more prone to the concept of peace, after all you went through and all you have to get together together not just as soulmates, but as a new married couple.  That scary night at Hogwarts and seeing it all in flames, knowing some of your old friends and schoolmates were killed in the battle, you both held onto each other and survived the longest night of your lives.  

But every time you looked at his initials on your arm, you were reminded on how lucky you were.  And you knew Oliver felt the same way about you.

The End. 

Soulmate Prompt Session

[light-lanterne]

random idea i just had:

a small offering @boycattj, @byelerss, @catboy-cabin, @conanssummerchild, @cosmobrain00, @dark-quill, @fenixashes, @fluffyfangirl, @holyvirgilscriptures, @foodiewithdahoodie, @hyperfixationcentralsvoid, @karenchildress @runninguplenorahills, @rotisseries, @saffirez, @willow-lark, @yearninginblue.

au where the party, nerds as they are, spend their afternoons in the school library reading novels and scientific journals, and playing a game of "who can find the weirdest trivia fact of the week". one day, as they are doing this, mike comes across a very unassuming notebook hidden amidst the oldest books in the library, the cover for which has three simple words written sloppily on its cover which read:

"do you dare?"

intrigued, mike opens the notebook and discovers a series of riddles and clues that has him running around the library and unveiling obscure novels and forgotten poetry books, each of them bringing him closer to crack the hidden code until, just in time before the library closes, he manages to uncover a rather confusing message:

"welcome to the hellfire club. you will find your first task inside your locker, first thing in the morning."

needless to say, he immediately discards it as absolute bullshit and goes on with his evening, saying goodbye to his friends and quickly forgetting about the affair as he heads home and busies himself with his homework.

however, he is immediately reminded of it all when he arrives at school the next morning, early for once, and finds a little note folded neatly atop his messy school books, the same handwriting as in the notebook staring him right in the face and he almost freaks out, for no one has his lock combination nor did he see anyone in the library other than his friends so there's no way anyone would've seen him figure out the code.

and yet there it is, and he kind of wants to scream, but he has to keep his composure lest he scares his arriving friends and gets in trouble with them for playing weird games without telling them about it.

thus, he hides the paper and decides to burn it as soon as he gets home, then opens it in the restroom during lunch for he is curious by nature and it certainly wouldn't hurt to just see what it has to say, right? it's only a piece of paper and he's completely and utterly alone here, so whoever's behind it can't possibly know if he read it or not,,, right ?

so he opens it, holds his breath for a moment, then reads it and sighs in relief as he notices it's nothing but a simple challenge:

"graffiti the bathroom stall."

a silly prank indeed. nothing mike hasn't done by himself quite a few times in the past, in fact, nor anything to freak out about considering it's a simple, harmless request.

so,,, mike decides to play along, if only so he can maybe figure out who is behind this and ask how they knew he'd cracked the code, how they figured out his locker combination, or what even is the hellfire club.

and at first, the challenges are rather innocuous: hide mrs. click's textbook before class, "misplace" the basketball's team storage key, put some roses in (will's) a classmate's locker without being spotted, free his neighbour's neglected dog and take it to a loving home, lock troy walsh's bike to a tree without him finding out.

then, they get a little more complicated: spend an entire day inside the cinema without paying a dime or getting kicked out, steal the chief of police's pen from his pocket, walk into a store's fitting room to try something then exit without paying while wearing the garment, make out sloppy with his male best friend in a broom closet during homecoming, take some of his parent's money and donate it to a cause they wouldn't support.

(make out with his best friend again during sunday's morning service at church, then escalate it a little more for extra points, if he dares)

little by little, mike gets lost in the game and soon he stops questioning the origin of the notes, or the increasing amorality of the requests, or how the one behind them always knows when he's succeeded. all he knows is that the notes have promised him a big reward should he complete fifty tasks successfully, and he's not about to give up now that he's come so far.

so he plays, and he becomes obsessed with winning, and it only occurs to him that something's terribly wrong when he reaches the fiftieth challenge and the note for his last task is left on his bedroom's desk, the black ink with which they'd all been written suddenly gone and replaced by red words.

"kill someone,"

his last challenge reads, and mike's much too involved to resist.

- the end -

(pretty sure this type of concept has a name, but i can't really remember it rn and i think the ending for that thing is far darker so let's leave it at this x.x also, feel free to imagine the type of funky business mike gets up to throughout the game; anything that would be "amoral" goes i suppose ~)

[queenielacy]

I would say Solo being mad at Kevin Owens for directing him to the broom closet last week is unbecoming of the Tribal Chief but Roman is still holding onto his beef with Seth so being able to hold a grudge is a prerequisite for being the Tribal Chief.

[twst-drabbles]

Dire 6

Summary: The aftermath of the Fairy Gala has left your entire body throbbing. Students from different dorms were willing, eager in fact, to take on your workload. Dire, at such a sight early in the morning, was in tears.

Never underestimate how long faeries can party. You knew what you were getting into. Why else would you prepare five days worth of food, water and a sleeping bag? You were invited and you had no way of rejecting it lest you gain their ire. Especially when apparently your little faerie buds blabbed about you to their queen.

You felt the way Vil, Leona, Kalim and Jamil were gazing at you when you showed up with that heavy bag. They were going to go in and out. You were not. You were stuck.

And fuck man, you are sore.

You really didn't want to get up. You just wanted to lay there, and sleep the century away. But no. You have money to make.

But, turns out, when you dragged yourself to the pathway containing those large and detailed statues haunting your dreams, you found that red headed coyote, Mateo aggressively sweeping the stone path. Behind him, two students from Heartslabyul were stuffing dead leaves and garbage into a bag. And a student from Pomefiore was meticulously wiping the statues clean of any moss.

The first ones to notice you were the two friends of Mateo, all of them big in built, but had the tiniest of ears.

"It's the Janitor!" They yelled in unison.

Since when were you a celebrity?

"...mornin..."

Your heavy leaning against the statue caught their attention. Mateo, always eager to please, pushed the Heartslabyul students out of the way and grabbed the bags filled with only leaves.

And promptly made a make shift throne for you to sit on. Apparently word of your five days of partying did not go unheard. And, in response to that, apparently a "Clean Up Crew" club of sorts was established.

"You don't have to do anything Chief," Mateo brandished his broom while the other students shuffled behind him, packed together in classic Savanaclaw solidarity, "Just leave this mess to us!"

"It's... Beautiful..." Ah, there he is, the man of the hour, the bird that you make pay and pay plentiful. "Ah, the camaraderie, their admiration of you that inspired them to come together and establish this club for themselves!" Dire wiped a tear, like his face wasn't completely soaked in tears and snot. "Never in my years have I seen such a precious thing!"

Huh.

"You didn't make the club yourself?" You wouldn't past him to make this club and subtly force students to participate. "I'm shocked."

Dire choked on his spit before whipping to you in shock. "Do you think that low of me? To take advantage of students and levy my own work?"

"Yes." He ain't subtle about it, and you're number one example of such a thing.

"Can you at least let me enjoy this beautiful moment?" Dire wiped at his face.

"Nope." As long as you're resting up, you're gonna torment him just to entertain yourself.

[helix-enterprises117]

Halo Reloaded: Stay Put

The streets of the Forerunner city on Alpha Halo were deserted, a silent testament to a civilization that had vanished eons ago. These pathways, once bustling with life, now played host to only whispers of the past and the occasional footfalls from John.

The Master Chief moved with a deliberate pace, his towering figure cutting through the eerie stillness. There was no need for weapons in hand; the man was a walking arsenal, a fact well known across the galaxy.

Trailing behind him, a sight that would baffle any onlooker—a young Sangheili. This child, swathed in robes rather than armor, seemed out of place following a human, especially one as formidable as the Master Chief. Yet, here he was, tailing John like a lost puppy, albeit one that could potentially rip your arm off if provoked. His movements were hesitant, betraying a mix of reverence and fear that one might reserve for a deity or, in this case, a heavily armored super-soldier.

Cortana's holographic form flickers into existence. She looked like she'd walked straight out of ancient Athens, though the furrow of her digital brow suggested she was more concerned with the present than the philosophies of the past. "John, you've got a tail. And I'm not talking about our little friend here," she said, her voice carrying a hint of snark that belied her skittish posture.

Almost on cue, a squad of Covenant enforcers rounded a corner, their presence an instant threat in the quiet of the abandoned city. They were a small group, but they packed enough firepower to make a dent. Their armor glinted under the artificial light of the Halo, a silent challenge to any who dared stand in their path.

Without missing a beat, John scooped up the Sangheili child, a move so swift it was almost casual. "Hang on, kid," he muttered, an odd note of tenderness in his voice that contrasted sharply with his next actions.

Ducking into an alleyway, he set the child down with surprising gentleness. "Kee'rah here, gah'nu? Nu'keh vo'rah, kee'lah so'ko." (Stay here, got it? Don't come out until I say so) he instructed in Sangheili, a language he spoke with the ease of a native.

The kid nodded, his eyes wide behind his mask. The fear was palpable, but so was the trust. "Vah'ruum kee'na." (I will wait) he said, the words heavy with an accent but clear in intention.

John nodded once, then turned to face the emerging threat, his figure a stark silhouette against the dim light filtering into the alley. Cortana's form hovered near him, her earlier apprehension replaced by a focused concern. "Don't get too cocky, John. Remember, pride comes before a fall, and I'm not equipped with a broom to sweep up your ego."

The Spartan couldn't help but crack a small smile, barely perceptible beneath his helmet. "Keep an eye on our six, Cortana. I'll handle the front."

As he stepped back into the fray, the alleyway behind him became a temporary sanctuary for the young Sangheili, a silent witness to the unlikely alliances formed in the shadow of war...

John burst from the alleyway, his eyes quickly scanning the scene before him. The air was charged with anticipation, the quiet before the storm. Ahead, a Wraith tank, menacing and bristling with firepower, was flanked by two Ghosts, their drivers cackling with glee. A squad of Zealot Elites, their energy swords humming with deadly intent, completed the deadly entourage. The battlefield was set for a clash of titans.

Without a moment's hesitation, John charged forward, his Spartan armor enhancing his speed to a blur. The ground beneath his feet seemed to quake with each step, a testament to the impending showdown. WHOOOSH! The first Ghost lunged at him, its plasma cannons blazing. John leapt into the air, a twist of his body turning his momentum into a devastating kick that sent the Ghost spiraling into a nearby ruin, exploding in a ball of fire and smoke. BOOM! Landing gracefully, John didn't pause.

The second Ghost zoomed towards him, cannons firing wildly. ZZZZAP! ZZZZAP! With an agile roll, John dodged the plasma bolts and, in one fluid motion, ripped the plasma cannon from the Ghost. Turning it on the vehicle, he unleashed a torrent of energy that shredded the Ghost apart.

KA-BLAM! Now, the Wraith tank took aim, its main cannon charging with a deep, ominous hum. The air vibrated with the power of the impending shot. John, eyeing the massive tank, sprinted towards it, the plasma cannon still in hand. As the Wraith fired, John leapt, using the cannon as a shield. The plasma bolt hit the cannon, engulfing John in a blinding light, but when it cleared, there he stood, unscathed, the cannon obliterated.

With a roar, the Brutes driving the Wraith emerged, brandishing gravity hammers. John dashed forward, meeting the first Brute with a powerful punch that sent it flying back into the tank with a CRUNCH. The second Brute swung its hammer in a wide arc, WHOOSH, but John ducked under the swing, then uppercut the Brute into the air, following up with a swift jump and a mid-air tackle that crashed them both into the tank, denting its armor.

As the tank reeled from the impact, the Zealot Elites charged, energy swords drawn. John landed, facing the onslaught. The first Elite swung its sword in a deadly arc, but John parried with a stolen energy dagger, the clash of energy creating a dazzling display of sparks. CLANG! He spun, delivering a roundhouse kick to another Elite, sending it crashing into a third.

THWACK! The battle was a whirlwind of motion. John moved like a specter among the Elites, dodging, parrying, and striking with precision. Each move was a dance of death, a testament to his unmatched skill and the power of the Spartan program.

Finally, as the last Elite fell, John stood alone amidst the wreckage of his foes, breathing heavily but victorious. The silence that followed was a stark contrast to the chaos that had just ensued...

In the aftermath of what could only be described as a one-man demolition derby—courtesy of John himself—the battlefield was a sight to behold. Wreckage strewn about like confetti after a particularly rowdy party, courtesy of our favorite Spartan and his less-than-gentle touch. John stood amidst the chaos, taking a moment to breathe in the... well, not fresh air. More like the smoky, charged scent of victory and plasma burns.

"Kee'lah so'ko!" he bellowed into the alleyway, the Sangheili equivalent of (Time to come out, kiddo!) His voice carried the kind of authority that even the most disobedient pet would think twice about ignoring. The young Sangheili, whose idea of a good time probably didn't include cowering in alleyways during explosive battles, peeked out. Seeing John, who was remarkably not on fire or dismembered (a common outcome for most after such a scuffle), he scampered over. With a move that was part relief, part "you're-my-hero," the kid gave John a hug around his waist. It was a touching scene, if you ignored the backdrop of fiery destruction.

"Kee'va tu'rah vah. Vo'kehm nu'keh vo'gah, gah'nu?" John said, his voice finding that gentle timbre that he rarely used, probably because it was hard to sound gentle when you're a human tank. (You did well to stay put. But let's not make a habit of this, okay?)

The kid, still clinging like a limpet, mumbled something that sounded like awe and agreement all mashed into one. "Vah... vah kee'nu'rah vah'rom. Kee'ah... kee'ah vum'rahr, thum'keeva vah'ree." (You... you took them all down. Like a... like a really angry, heavily armored bear)

John couldn't help but chuckle—a sound as rare as a polite discussion between a Grunt and a Marine. "Gah, kee'ah vum'ko. Vo'kehm, thum'keeva vah'ree kee'va so'rah vum'kah veerah, gah'nu?" (Yeah, something like that. But hey, angry bears have to make sure everyone gets home safe, right?)

As they resumed their trek through the city's ruins, the child's curiosity bubbled over like a pot left unattended. "Vah'keem kee'va nu'kuh thum'keeva vah'ree tu'rah?" (Are we going to see more...angry bear stuff?) The question was earnest, a mix of dread and excitement at the prospect of more explosions and heroic deeds.

John, casting a sidelong glance at his small companion, shrugged. "Vah'keem. Vah'zum kee'ah thum'roh, vum'la tu'keeva. Vo'kehm nu'vah, kee'na thum'keeva vah'rah tu'keeva vum." (Probably. The galaxy's a big place, filled with all sorts of trouble. But don't worry, I've got enough bear rage for all of it)

The conversation took a turn for the philosophical—or as philosophical as one can get when discussing intergalactic conflict and angry bears. "Vo'kehm vah'ruum? Kee'rah nu'kuh tu'keeva?" (And after? When there's no more trouble?)

Looking ahead, John's gaze softened, a rare moment of introspection for the Spartan. "Vah'ruum kee'va so'rah vum'kah. Vum'la kee'zum, vum'nu vah'haus... Vah'keem, vum'nu kee'na vah'bakeery." (Then we make sure it stays that way. Maybe plant a garden, build a house... Who knows, maybe even open a bakery)

"Vah'bakeery?" (A bakery?) The kid's tone was incredulous, as if the idea of the Master Chief swapping his rifle for a rolling pin was more far-fetched than any alien race.

"Gah, vo'kehm nu'kuh? Vah'zum kee'love cookies. Nu'keh kee'va intergalactic vah'rahs kee'rah vah'la eating cookies." (Yeah, why not? Everyone loves cookies. Can't start intergalactic wars if you're busy eating cookies)

Their laughter echoed through the ruins, a light moment that bridged the gap between species and circumstances. With every step, they moved not just toward their next destination, but toward a future where the absurdity of baking cookies could stand as a beacon of hope in a war-torn galaxy.

@jellotherelol, @empresskadia, @authortobenamedlater, @ageless-aislynn, @ionlymadethissoicouldleaveanask, @makowrites.

[francesminos-tt]

I think we don’t have enough lucemond hp au, so here is my contribution.

Professor Velaryon is well liked by most of the Hogwarts population, students, faculties, even house elves. The only one who falls out of this category is Professor Targaryen, potion master, consultant of the Duel Club and head of the Slytherin House, which is not all that surprising because Professor Targaryen just doesn’t like people, period.

Professor Velaryon, or Luke, as he insists to be called, was the star seeker of Dragonstone United. He has three championships under his belt before he retired at the young age of 26. He has been teaching flying lessons in Hogwarts for just over a year. Hufflepuff is thrilled to learn he will couch the quidditch house team for the coming school year. We have Lucy! Hufflepuff captain exclaimed, Let’s beat them losers. He was caught by Professor Targaryen while swearing, and 5 points were taken from Hufflepuff.

Professor Targaryen (he doesn’t accept to be called otherwise despite there are at least 3 Targaryens in school), or Aemond (only Luke is allowed to call him that), is the youngest house head in a century. He only has one eye due to a tragic incident in his final year at Hogwarts that no one is allowed to speak of. He is able to spot me sneaking chopped beetles into that Gryffindor’s cauldron with only one eye. Who knows what he is capable of with both eyes. Reported an anonymous source.

Hufflepuff and Slytherin are not nemesis, no, but Luke and Professor Targaryen seems to be. They sit at the opposite side of the faculty table at meal times. No one dares to engage them in one conversation. They either want to kill each other, or fuck, commented by a Ravenclaw in her fifth year, current chief editor in the most popular school magazine, the gossiper.

Lucerys strides to the quidditch field, broom in hand. He is a little nervous about his first coaching session, but a certain someone assures that he will be just fine. Hufflepuff has booked the field from 6 PM, so Lucerys is not surprised to see his team gathered around the field. What surprises him is that several Slytherin players are also there, cornering a dark-haired boy in Gryffindor uniform

“What happened?” Lucerys asks his team captain.

“Apparently that boy tried to spy on the Slytherin strategy. As if they have enough brain capacity to actually use strategy.” The captain replies.

The boy is a first year, and Lucerys knows him. God. He hates Slytherins sometimes.

“OK, gentlemen, break it off.” Lucerys inserts himself between the group, shielding the boy from the snarling Slytherins.

“Playing favor here, Professor Luke?” One of the Slytherin beaters, a bulky seventh year boy says sarcastically. “Maybe you should ask why he spied on us.”

“I didn’t spy on you!” The boy shouts. He tries to stand up to three teenagers despite his small size. He reminds Lucerys of his own younger brother Joffrey.

“Yeah, you keep saying that, Stark. Didn’t your muggle dad teach you how to be respectful?”

Rickon Stark looks like he’s about to pounce and rip that Slytherin’s face.

“Stand down, Rickon.” Lucerys says, but his gaze is on the Slytherins.

“Yes, stand down, mudblood.” The Slytherin beater sneers. His lackeys bark out a laugh.

Lucerys pinches his nose, trying hard to stay calm.

“You crossed a line here, gentleman. I won’t tolerant such behavior.” Lucerys says with incredible authority, “Come with me. Let’s see what your house head will say about this.”

The Slytherin boys noticeably flinch from Luke’s serious demeanor.

“And you, Mr. Stark, don’t think I didn’t see the broom you hide under the stand. First-years are not allowed to fly by their own. Put that broom back immediately before I write to your parents. Believe me, you don’t want to get a Howler two weeks in the new semester.”

“Sorry! It won’t happen again!” Rickon Stark pales and runs at top speed before retrieving said broom that no one noticed, “Please don’t write to Jace!”

 Aemond is about to finish the wolfsbane potion when the door to his personal dungeon opens. Lucerys matches in, followed by three Slytherin boys on the quidditch team.

“To what do I owe the honor, Professor Velaryon?” Aemond says, continuing to stir the cauldron. He’s the only one who calls Lucerys that.

“Your boys called someone mudblood today, Aemond.” Lucerys replies, throwing those boys a dark look.

Aemond’s hand pauses for a second before resuming stirring. The boys duck their heads, not dare to meet their house head’s eye.

“That is inappropriate, I reckon.” Aemond throws in finely grinded snake skin and give the potion a final stir.

“Inappropriate? It’s a serious offense!” Lucerys stomps to the work table, stopping just inches before Aemond. He leans in, ignoring the acrid smell that stings his eyes.

“Let me finish this, Lucerys.” Aemond doesn’t seem to mind the proximity, which is odd because Professor Targaryen is allergic to human being.

Lucerys wrinkles his nose, but says nothing. He doesn’t step back either. 10 minutes later, the potion finally turns to the right color.

“Well?”

Aemond lets out a small chuckle before pats Lucerys on the head. The Slytherins gasp as if they just witnessed hell. There is no way, no way at all, that Professor Targaryen is capable of that fond expression.

“You three will serve detention for two months. And you won’t be attending the house cup match this weekend.” Aemond says in his usual soft but menacing tone.

“But we have to- We need to defeat these Gryffindor scums! “

“And the match next week. One more word and you will be expelled from the team. Don’t test me.” Aemond begins to fill the vials with wolfsbane potion.

“Professor, we know you don’t understand quidditch but- “

Lucerys breaks out laughing. He laughs so hard that his stomach hurts. This is easily the most hilarious thing he hears so far. Aemond? Not understanding quidditch?

Aemond huffs while running a hand down Lucerys’s back.

“Oh, you Slytherins. If only you look at your house medals.” Lucerys finally manages to speak.

The three unfortunate boys do get a look at Slytherin house medal in the end as they spend all their detention time polishing said medal which reads, Aemond Targaryen, Most Valuable Player in House Cup. There are four of them.

[papasmistakeria]

Cursed Enterprise headcanon (maybe AU) cause my favourite series is now Enterprise and they're the closest to the 21st century so I can make millenial headcanons for them and it'd still be considered canon:

One time, Malcolm had the crew do archery for target practice and survival training. Ironically, the person who had the worst score was Archer

Archer lost Porthos this one time and he was depressed for an entire month. In a show of good will and friendship, T'Pol decided to make it her mission to find Porthos. She brought Archer the beagle back and he was so happy he cried and hugged her for an entire hour. 3 days later, Hoshi and Travis showed up with the real Porthos. Archer was left with one question; If that's Porthos, then who the fuck is the beagle that T'Pol brought? In the end, Archer gave up trying to figure it out and decided to adopt the other beagle

T'Pol was fascinated by the human custom of international communities discussion through means of forums as a way to recognize cultures. For her research, she signed up for Twitter. It was then she's convinced humans are fucking stupid

Trip had top surgery twice; First time when he transitioned and second time on his arm when he grew those nipples

Trip has spent most of his young adult life trying to lick his elbows. Nearly died twisting his neck one time

Malcolm had a Green Day phase and Trip laughs at him for it

Because he's smaller than most Security Chiefs, Malcolm is very resourceful in combat. Meaning, he bites and claws at people like a rabid animal. He also has near perfect voice imitation which adds to the long list of 'Things Absolutely Fucked Up about Malcolm Reed'. Some people thought he's a skinwalker or some demon

Whenever he's drunk, Malcolm shifts through 10 different personalities and accents and all of those are just Dominic Keating characters

Hoshi has a soft spot for rodents. She snuck in a bunch of her pet mice into the ship during launch and some of them escaped and at the same time, the whole ship power died and the only ones still active are weapons and warp. Turns out, some of her mice are in Engineering having the feast of their lives (they're chewing on the cables). Trip nearly had an aneurysm while the entire Engineering crew were chasing multiple mice away with brooms

Hoshi's role model is Hatsune Miku

Travis' role model is also Hatsune Miku

Travis plays Roblox. One time he made a Roblox game based off the Enterprise but then the captain found out and told him to shut it down. Nobody even noticed that Archer himself plays Roblox

One creature that Phlox absolutely cannot stand is the Earth Wasp. During his first few days on Earth, he thought the wasp was a bee and tried to observe it but instead it stung him and he hasn't forgiven it

Phlox is a big fan of Scooby Doo and has spent years trying to find a talking dog. He still believes Porthos has the ability to speak but hides it

Hayes is a Brony. His favourite is Applejack

The Enterprise crew has a Minecraft server for everyone. The Engineers are the ones who built every structure in the server. The Science and Medical crew are the ones making farms and whatnot. Command crew are the ones mining. The Security crew logs in every now and then just to blow shit up and ruin everyone's day

The only time Harris regretted recruiting Malcolm to Section 31 was during his first solo mission and somehow Malcolm managed to bite a Starfleet security officer's fucking fingers off clean and Harris nearly had an aneurysm trying to do damage control

Shran tries to learn about human custom through their history since he's a firm believer that history is the door to the present. The next time he greeted Archer, he did a dab and Archer cried

Shran went to visit Earth as a show of diplomacy and for a date with Archer. Someone offered to give him more money if he gives them some money and he mistook that for weird human hospitality tradition. He got scammed

There's a thirst trap of Soval somewhere and it's on Forrest's private tiktok account