#but they’re just so like. delicate and floaty

[iamthecomet]

𝘔𝘶𝘴𝘩𝘺 𝘔𝘢𝘺 𝘋𝘢𝘺 𝘛𝘸𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘺: 𝘎𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨

Rating: G Pairing: Swiss/Mountain Words: 741 Mushy May by @forlorn-crows Banner by @ghuleh-recs

Mountain sets an armload of pots down in the soft grass of the greenhouse. He straightens, stretching his spine until it pops loudly. He sags, wiping sweat from his brow with his dirt covered forearm, smearing it through auburn eyebrows and over freckled skin. 

Swiss huffs out a laugh as he watches, setting more pots down, looking over at Mountain’s dirt streaked face. 

“It’s too hot for this and you know it.” 

Mountain frowns. It is hot. It’s a balmy 95 outside, so he knows the greenhouse is much warmer. The air thick and damp. Beyond the glass walls he can see the others at the lake. Cumulus stretched out on a blanket with a book. Rain, Dew and Aeon trying to drown each other, Cirrus, floating a good distance away from them on a giant floaty shaped like a piece of pizza. 

“It has to be done, Swiss.” 

Mountain sighs, dragging his eyes away from his pack. He’ll finish up here and be out there with them in no time–but he can’t wait any longer. It’s too hot in here for the vegetables he started in the spring, and besides that they’re starting to take over. 

“Today?” 

Mountain nods. “It’s going to rain tomorrow. If we get them in today they’ll get a good strong start and–”

“And we’ll be overrun with tomatoes and cucumbers and squash like always,” Swiss teases. “I think there’s still shredded zucchini in the freezer from last year.” 

“Leave it to you to scoff at abundance.” Mountain rolls his eyes. “It’s only a couple more trips. I can do it, you don’t have to help.” 

Mountain turns to gather more plants. Loading his arms with plastic and terracotta pots alike, balencing them precariously in an attempt to make it take less trips back and forth from the vegetable garden. Swiss catches a poorly balanced pepper plant just before it falls to its death. 

“Shut up,” Swiss chides. Taking more of the plants from Mountain. “I don’t mind.” 

“You were just complaining.” 

Swiss waves him away. “So? I can complain and still like helping. I just wish you’d talk to them less while you’re planting them, it would go faster.” 

“You have to talk to them, Swiss.” Mountain says, matter-of-fact as they push through the greenhouse doors and out onto the lawn. “They get nervous otherwise.” 

Swiss doesn’t dignify that with a response, instead he just leads the way to the vegetable garden. A wide swath of freshly tilled land surrounded by a low stone wall, bracketed by fruit trees in full bloom. Swiss takes his stack of plants to one side of the garden, and Mountain goes to the other. 

They work silently. Planting seedlings in neat organized rows. Hands tamping down fresh dirt around delicate roots. Mountain whispering praises, and reassurance to each tiny plant. 

There’s a whoop of laughter from the lake, and a shriek that could only belong to Cirrus. 

“Someone flipped her,” Swiss says without looking up. 

“They’ll be dead before dinner.” 

“It’s really a shame that we’re missing the show.” 

Mountain laughs to himself, he shakes his head as he plants his last cucumber plant. “We can take a break, if you want.” 

Swiss stands up, wiping dirt off the knees of his jeans even though it’s a lost cause. He shakes his head. 

“It’s like one more batch. We might as well finish. The lake will be there when we’re done.” 

Mountain’s back screams in protest when he stands, but he knows Swiss is right. He knows if they go to the lake now–even if it is just to watch Cirrus attempt murder–they’ll never come back and the last batch of Sunshine’s favorite tomatoes will never make it into the ground. 

“You’re right.” 

“Usually am,” Swiss says with a smile. He slings his sweaty arm around Mountain’s shoulders, leans his head into Mountain’s. Horns knocking together as Mountain angles toward him. Swiss smells like sweat, and dirt and weed. Earthy in a way that makes Mountain want to crawl inside of that smell and live there.  

“Just, less talking to the plants this time, yeah? I do want to make it to the lake before winter.” 

Mountain sighs, tries to swallow a laugh. “Fine. But it’s your fault when we don’t have enough tomatoes.” 

Swiss rolls his eyes, breaking away from Mountain to pull open the greenhouse door and step into the oppressive heat. “I’m willing to risk it.”

[riality-check]

1.

There were scissors, once. Maybe. She thinks.

That time, the In-Between, has always been kinda nebulous. Floaty, like smog. No substance, like the colored fluff she’s sometimes seen topsiders take bites of.

Why the people with air decided to pay stupid money to eat it, she’ll never understand.

What was she talking about again? 

Oh, the In-Between. The maybe-scissors.

She remembers something sharp coming towards her, and then she bit on something like a carrot, ‘cept it was warmer and tasted way worse, and then there was yelling and red and her head hit the wall, but that didn’t really matter, did it? She had more than a few screws loose, and trying to tighten them was like using a staple gun instead of a screwdriver. Didn’t work all that well for how loud and painful it was. Might as well let all those loose screws rattle around up there. Might be the only thing loud enough to drown Them out.

No more scissors in the In-Between after that. Not that she remembers. She’s just going by the length of her hair.

2.

The scissors Before were dull. Vander - back when he wasn’t rotting with the rest, thankfully he’s not one of her ghosts - used to swear when he had to use them. She used to peek out from under the bowl he put on her head, and he’d laugh but swear again when he realized the whole haircut was crooked.

She made it crooked. Because she couldn’t listen.

Maybe that should have been the first sign.

But that was before actions had consequences that went boom and meant blood. That was when all her fuck-ups could be fixed by going to Vi, who had hands like Vander’s - big, brawny, bruised, lotta other b-words - but actually had the dexterity to braid the long, choppy parts back.

3.

Soon After, Jinx gets used to her name, and she gets frustrated with her hair.

It’s longer than it’s ever been, mostly evened out from the last crooked bowl cut she got from Before - the last one she’d ever get, which, hey, she can’t fuck those up anymore, one less thing, whoop dee doo - and it falls into her face ever time she hunches over something with her tools.

She does a lot of that. Focusing on something that Silco needs her to do, something that grinds and squeals in time with the screaming music she blasts is the only thing to make Them quiet.

They’ve been quiet, her ghosts, for a few days. Jinx knows better by now than to think they’ll be quiet forever. They always come back like they never will.

When her hair flops into her face again, she screams. She shoves everything off her bench and hunts viciously for a pair of scissors.

She doesn’t find any. Instead, she grabs a pocket knife. It’s from After, from now, and it doesn't matter that she can’t remember if Silco gave it to her or if it was a begrudging castaway from Sevika or one of the others. All that matters is that it’s sharp. It’ll be quick. Quicker than the Before cuts. And then she can get back to work. Back to good noise.

She holds it up to the first hunk of hair she can grab, about to cut it, about to do something actually useful, something that works for once, shut up They’re back shut up-

And then Jinx catches sight of herself in the mirror.

Faces flicker: hers, now, angry and wide-eyed and twisted into something painful, very nearing animal, and that girl from Before’s. Young. Happy. With hair the length Jinx was just about to cut hers to.

The faces will keep flickering if the knife has its way. She can’t put the knife down. The faces keep flickering, back and forth so fast Jinx can’t tell which one of them is crying.

The door of her workshop opens, and without thinking, she hurls the knife toward the sound.

She pretends she hears it stick in the door and not clatter uselessly to the floor.

“You know, you really should look as you throw it if you want it to do anything.”

This voice, not one of Theirs, gives her the strength to tear away from the mirror.

Silco straightens from where he’s picked up the pocket knife. He wipes it delicately on the leg of his trousers and flips it once, twice in his hand.

Jinx braces herself. She’s seen this sort of leadup before, watching from rafters in places she’s not supposed to be but are so easy to climb, knows it’s only a matter of time before he releases that knife aimed right at her.

She hopes he’ll miss on purpose. He does that sometimes, just to scare people. It’s funny. When it isn’t her.

But the knife never comes. Somewhere along the way, she closed her eyes, and she opens, them, startled, at the clatter of the sheathed knife on her workbench.

She follows the line of Silco’s open hand up to his face.

“Would you like to tell me why you threw that at me, Jinx?” he asks softly.

He’s the only person besides the ghosts when they’re mean and sister-not-sister, that makes her name sound natural. He uses it often. It sounds like a curse-not-curse.

Like me, she sometimes thinks.

“My hair,” she says because he doesn’t like liars.

A furrow appears between his brows. “Could you not cut it?”

Jinx knows Pow-the girl and not herself, thank you very much, ladies and gents, will be staring back if she glances in the mirror.

She turns away from it.

“No.”

“Would you like me to-” Silco starts as he picks the knife back up.

Jinx can only think of the In-Between, the maybe-scissors, the taste of iron on her baby teeth. She slams her hand down onto Silco’s, on top of the knife.

He stares at her. His left eye is cloudy. He should fix that soon. Jinx would do it, assuming she’s allowed to keep her hands after this.

She gulps and tries not to glance down at her painted nails, how much she’d miss having those.

Silco raises his eyebrows. Jinx puts her hands into her lap.

“Well,” he says, leaving the knife on the workbench and peering down at her. “It seems we’re at an impasse. If you can’t cut it, and you won’t allow me to, then-”

“I need,” Jinx begins, but her words are as scrambled as the screws in her head. “I need it back, out, not gone, because she had it gone, I need it-”

She didn’t have that way, not really, and it’s the only thing she can think of to make it go away so she can work and it can be loud-good-quiet again, please don’t come back please do-

“Braided,” she finally lands on. It’s right, and she feels bile rise up in her throat. She swallows it back down and looks up at Silco.

He looks satisfied by her answer. “So braid it.”

“I can’t. I don’t know how.”

Before, back when sister-Vi-not-sister did it, that girl never learned. She was happy. Helpless. Dependent.

No wonder I keep seeing her face in the mirror, Jinx thinks, barely keeping back a giggle. None of that has changed.

A stool rattles as it’s wheeled behind her. She glances up in the mirror, sees Silco’s face over her shoulder. That’s good. If she keeps her eyes on him, the faces don’t flicker.

The music is still loud enough to drown Them out, but not so loud she can’t hear him if he talks.

“I’ll try,” is all he says before he neatly parts her hair down the middle. His hands are cold like his voice, but his grip is light like his breathing.

Jinx waits far too long, staring at his focused face in the mirror, before not even that helps with the faces. They switch in and out again like candle flame moves, and it’s only a matter of time before one-both-neither-who-cares starts crying again. She grabs a small box on the bench, props some childish mechanical trinket on top of it so she doesn’t have to tilt her head down, and takes it apart to have something to do with her hands and her eyes.

She works. If it wasn’t for his breathing, she wouldn’t know Silco was even behind her. He moves slowly, never speaking, and never tugs once.

(Before, Vi-not-sister would sometimes get frustrated when that girl would mess with her, and she’d tug on purpose. The girl would smack her back, and that was usually the end of it.)

It feels like forever between the longer hair and the glacial speed. Jinx takes apart three little toys and sorts their parts by size and function when Silco finally speaks again.

“How is that?”

She looks up in the mirror. 

The faces stop flickering.

She just sees herself with her hair bound back into two long braids just past her shoulders.

They’re a little loose toward the front, where her hair is shorter, but she can deal with that just fine.

She can work. She’s herself.

She’s Jinx, everybody. Hell yeah.

She spins on her stool and wraps her arms around Silco’s waist just like she did that first time, when she was smaller. (Contrary to how he looks, he really is great to hug. Solid. Safe.)

Silco’s arms settle around her after a beat. He doesn’t let go until she pulls back.

“I’ll get you the new model tonight,” she says, because now she can work and think and focus and wow her hands need something to do right now and she might as well be productive with her hair out of her face and the energy and the drive-

“Anything else?” Silco asks, already rising.

“Nope,” she says, popping the p, already focused on figuring out how to make things work.

That’s something that girl from Before could never manage.

She’s already turned back to her prototype by the time she hears him shut the door on his way out.

Only then does it occur to her to dry her tears.

4.

By the time Jinx lowers Silco into the water, he hasn’t touched her hair in years.

He braided it a lot when she was young, when she still had to learn by watching because he never talked as he did it. Always so focused. So smart, she had to admit, despite him being a liar, but he needed all of his brain to braid her hair.

To be fair, it was a lot of hair.

He never tugged, and it never hurt, and no matter how exactly she mimicked the deftness of his fingers, she could never match that painlessness.

As he sinks, she gives one of her floor-length braids a little tug. Better get used to it now. Scissors and cutting it are a no-go, yessir, thanks so much but she’ll pass on wanting to stab someone on instinct instead of meaning to.

Just the braids now. And, as she pulls herself out of the water, Jinx reminds herself that without Silco, they’re always going to hurt to do.

Read it on AO3 if you'd like as well!

[canibalistic-brownie]

Catra has a really pretty singing voice, but only a select few heard it when she was growing up in the horde. She mostly sang in the shower when she was alone or with only Adora which was, decidedly, not often in the common showers. Lonnie once heard it when she snuck in, but Catra hissed at her and threatened her life over it and she only tells Rogelio and he doesn’t really believe her so it doesn’t go far.

When the war is over and she hold Adora at night alone in Adora’s- their room, she tangles her hands in her hair and scratches Adora’s scalp and hums little tunes to her to help her sleep. The melody is usually the same, a little floaty tune that sits well across her range. Adora tries to stay awake to hear more but it always puts her to sleep.

When Glimmer starts to sleep in their room as well she’s startled by the sound. She’s holding Adora and Catra is holding her and she feels the rumble of her lower range against her back. There’s no words but it’s very clearly meant to be a song. She says nothing that night, just listens to the most intimate part of Catra and drifts away but it stays on her mind for the next few weeks.

“Will you sing the words for me?” Glimmer asks finally, months after she begins sleeping in their bed. She’s not there every night, but on nights when she is she is always curious about the song. Catra is sitting up and Adora and Glimmer are spooning between her legs, using her as a pillow. They’re not sleeping, just cuddling, but Catra is already humming so it just comes to Glimmer to ask.

Her humming stops and a blush rises to her cheeks as she looks down at her girls. Both of them have maxed out on the puppy dog eyes at the question and it’s hard to resist.

“I… maybe another time.” Glimmer huffs but she cuddles back into Catra’s leg again all the same.

It’s late that same night and Glimmer and Adora are almost asleep when she begins her humming again.

“In the still, of the night. Are you still, feeling alright? You’re feeling alright.”

Adora and Glimmer both tense and listen intently to the sound of their lullaby coming from behind them.

“In the still, of your mind. Are you still, putting up a fight? Just tell me that I’m right.”

The song continues and Adora’s chest is clinched, her muscles tense with excitement. Glimmer on the other hand is completely relaxed listening to Catra’s voice.

“I handled you like broken porcelain, but really I'm the one that's delicate. I handled you like broken porcelain, but maybe I'm the one that's breaking.”

The last verse has Glimmer gripping to Adora’s night shirt as she hears the words leaving Catra’s lips. Something about it just hurts her, hearing how she’s feeling.

“Baby, lay your head down. Baby, I’m only in your dreams now.”

As she finishes the final chorus and goes back to humming, her girls roll over and turn the tides to hold her instead.

It doesn’t put them to sleep tonight but Adora thinks that she would miss sleep more often if it meant hearing Catra sing to her more often.

[manias-wordcount]

The Eternity Game (Yae, Sara, Baal) PART ONE

Kinktober 2021 Day One: Blindfolded

𝗣𝗮𝗿𝘁: 𝗼𝗻𝗲 || 𝘁𝘄𝗼

𝙒𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚? ⇒ 𝙈𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

𝙟𝙤𝙞𝙣 𝙢𝙮 𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙘𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙫𝙚𝙧?

She’s cruel. So, so cruel to you. They all are. All three of them. It’s just- 

 They’re so mean.

 Your back arches as a pair of lips wrap around your overly sensitive clit and start to suck. A loud, desperate whine escapes your lips and rings throughout the entire room. It interrupts the ever so permanent state of sobbing you’re usually in whenever someone decides to have their way with your body for as long as they want. You would think the tears streaming down your face from pure pleasure, and the half-slurred pleads would be a tell-tale sign to just slow down. But that’s not a mercy you’ll receive tonight. 

 That’s not a mercy you’ll ever receive. 

 “N-no, no, no I can’t!” Your whimpers- they’re pitiful but they’re all you have. And they’re rapidly losing more and more sense as your mind tries to work with someone suckling on your clit like it’s perfect. “Ah! Ah! Ah! I can’t, please Archon I can’t!”

 “Shhh, honey, it’s okay,” A voice hums directly in your ear and you know exactly who it is. The Raiden Shogun doesn’t take kindly to the way you fight against the pleasure she’s so generously offering up to you but she’s sympathetic to you and you alone. Still, it doesn’t stop you from squirming as perfect nails dig into your skin as she spreads your thighs impossibly harder. “Thirty more seconds, and you can guess. Not long little one, I promise.”

 The Eternity Game.

 That’s what you like to call this little thing she likes to do to you. The Eternity Game always starts the same way. At first, it’s just hands that start holding onto your waist from behind when you least expect it. Then, the Raiden Shogun starts to deliver cute little kisses to your neck and jaw while her hands trickle down to your hips. Then the kisses start to deepen, and those hands on your hips start to grope at your chest and spread your thighs. And before you know it, you’re being tossed onto the nearest bed, having your dress torn off your body. And just as you look up, your last sight is the Raiden Shogun reaching for the blindfold as she calls in two very special friends to help her with something important. 

 She always gets started before they come in. You can hardly count how many seconds pass between her tying the blindfold tight around your eye and when she finally sinks two fingers into your aching pussy. She’s so soft with you when she begins. So, so soft, as she scissors her fingers inside of you and whispers so words of praise. But some time during all the “good pet, my good little pet” and “you’re so pretty. So pretty and so tight for me.”, she always manages to get an orgasm or two out of you with such care that almost makes you forget about what’s about to come. 

The introductions. 

“You remember Guuji Yae and Tengu Sara, don’t you?” The Raiden Shogun hums in your ear. You’re still basking in the afterglow of your second orgasm- the one she always makes you ride through just to get you feeling all dumb and floaty while she stretches you out on your back. Her question barely registers with you but you nod anyway, soft noises escaping your lips as her fingers ghost over your clit with feather-light touches. “Very good! You see…”

 The sound of multiple pairs of heels walking towards you is enough to wake you up from the spell.

 And boy does it wake you up fast. 

 “They wanted to have another taste of that cute little cunt of yours, my little one.” The Raiden Shogun states matter-a-factly. She doesn’t even have to fight as you start squirming underneath her. Instead, she just spreads your thighs that threaten to close and hooks a leg over her shoulder. “So I must see to it that you’re thoroughly prepared what is in store. You are quite fragile, you know?”

 The third time she makes you cum is always just a little overwhelming. Long, delicate fingers curling expertly inside you as you gasp and moan. Sometimes, she’s hit that spot inside of you that causes you to clench up- to shudder, and shake. But it still doesn’t stop her from getting what she wants. And it doesn’t stop the two newcomers from trailing their fingers across your body- exploring your curves and paying extra attention to your sensitivity. But all too soon, it’s over.

 But when one door closes, another opens. 

 That’s where you find yourself now. Propped up on the Raiden Shogun’s lap with her hands hooked under your legs. Your head falls back onto her shoulders, too heavy for you to hold as your arms are restrained in a silk tie and hooked around her neck. It’s not unlike the blindfold wrapped around your eyes but the restriction is too much. 

 You’re trying. You’re so trying hard to run away and escape this moment. Your pussy- your poor, poor pussy can’t take much more of this. You know she takes great pleasure in your exposed body being the subject of such intense pleasure from the way she laughs at your struggles. Laughs at the way you try to kick and fight the mouth that just won’t seem to let you get a break. 

 “Please!” You beg, hips gyrating as a tongue flicks against your oversensitive nub, sending sparks of pleasure throughout your body. “I just don’t- I jus’ don’...”

 The Raiden Shogun just hushes you as you moan out something unintelligible. There’s a satisfied hum spilling from her lips as kisses your cheek and watches as whoever’s in front of you spits on your already soaking wet pussy and goes back to licking your cunt. 

 “You know the rules.” She tuts at you, and you know she can tell you’re getting close to cumming again. You do. You do know the rules, and you hate them. “You can cum again if you guess right. If not, we get to keep you for a little longer.”

 You turn your head into her neck and whine into her skin. Why? Why does she have to be so cruel to you? Why do they all have to be so mean to you? Your head is spinning, and your mind is going to mush. The only thing you can feel is a tongue laying flat against your sex and the way your skin burns with need. The need to cum, the need to run- pure unadulterated need. 

 You don’t know who to guess. Is it Sara? Is it Yae? Time and time again they played the Eternity Game on you. The two of them would watch as the Raiden Shogun would mess you up just enough to be too out of it to actually think coherently by the time the Guuji and the Tengu would get their turn with you. And time and time again, you wouldn’t be able to tell who is who from their tongue alone. That was the only way they were allowed to touch you. No noises. No hands. Nothing but technique and tongue. 

 If there was a method to this madness, you know you won’t ever be able to find it. 

 “What do you say, little one?” The Raiden Shogun asks over the sloppy sounds of your pussy behind devoured. It’s hard to focus on her words when you’re too busy moaning like a little whore, fighting against the tightening pressure building in your stomach. “Who do you think it is?” 

 “Umm…” You slur out, voice suddenly dropping to a squeal as the mouth by your pussy blows lightly on your entrance before moving to suck on your clit once more. In the back of your head, your memory faintly recalls a time, two or three sessions ago when Sara had done the exact same thing to you, right as you were teetering on the edge. By sheer luck, you managed to scream out the right answer before cumming, long and hard. You hope this works now.

 “S-sara!” You call out a name finally, hoping in your gut that you had somehow gotten it right. “S-sara! It’s Tengu Sara, it’s-”

 The mouth on your pussy stops moving. 

 “Uh oh, little one!” The Raiden Shogun’s voice sends shivers down your spine. You can hear the faux disappointment in her voice. It does nothing to hide the sheer sadistic way she takes pleasure in the way others use your body. “And here I thought my precious pet was well acquainted with my most trusted allies.”

 “W-wait!” You call out frantically, panic seeping into your voice. You know what comes next. You know because you’ve lived through it. Again and again. But that doesn’t make it any easier for you. Not at all. “That’s not-! I meant to say-”

 “That was Guuji Yae, little one.” Her words are patronizing. You can hear the smirk in her voice as her threats linger in the air. You’ve messed up. And now you pay the price. “But I suppose, if you wanted Tengu Sara so badly then why should I rob myself of such a delicious sight?”

 With that, the three girls pounce on you. The Raiden Shogun unhooks your arms from around her neck, to allow your body some movement. Still, she doesn’t let you move much on your own now that you’ve been semi freed. Instead, she instructs Lady Yae to grab you by the waist and lead you to a different spot on the bed. 

 “You were so good for me,” Comes Lady Yae’s murmured voice as she guides your body. Her breath tickles your body as she placed a kiss just right by your ear. It’s such a soft gesture. Apologetic and true, you’re instantly seeking out more from her. But Lady Yae does nothing except let out a little laugh as the Shogun follows you from close behind, placing a hand on the small of your back. “But I wonder��� was I good enough?”

 “Huh?” You ask dumbly, eyebrows furrowing as you turn towards where you thought her voice was coming from. 

 “Was I good enough? You were having so much fun, yet you still didn't guess my name, huh?” Lady Yae repeats her question gently, right as she stops you from moving. You squirm as you’re sandwiched between the Shogun and the Guuji, eager to defend your actions, but the two of them silence you quickly. “Shh, shh it’s okay. You just need a little more attention, don’t you?” 

 “That’s right, little one. There’s no need to grow too concerned.” The Raiden Shogun’s voice never fails to send your body into a shivering, needy mess. Her fingers tease your bare skin as the ache between your legs grows and grows. “That delicious cunt of yours was made to be stimulated. Wasn’t it, my dear?”

 “Umm… I- Ah!” You gasp at the feelings of someone grabbing your thighs and spreading them apart before pushing you forward. You shoot your bound hands forward, palms up, to brace yourself for impact. Luckily, you’re able to catch yourself on the soft material of the bed you were just in with barely any seconds to spare. But in the process, it seemed your legs had gotten tangled with someone else’s. 

 Someone who is lying directly underneath you.

 The whine you let out was pitiful as Lady Sara’s hands grab onto your waist and manhandles you to the exact position she wants you to be. Your thighs fall on either side of her hips as she props one knee up underneath you. You flinch away from the feeling, but the Tengu was quick to tighten her hold onto you and force your to grind your cunt into a silken tendril of her dress. It’s so cold against your sensitive, dripping little entrance and Lady Sara’s dirty words of encouragement do nothing but send you closer and closer to the orgasm that you just know she won’t let you have yet.

 “Did someone miss me?” She coos, even as you fight against her. You wish you could see her face. You wish you could see all of their faces and beg them for release. The simplest of touches send you mewling and squirming like a bitch in heat. Your mind is fried and your body feels like it's on fire and yet, they still toy with you. Why can’t they just give you what you want? 

 “Mmm,” The noise you make comes from the back of your throat- soft and needy- as you feel someone’s hand press on your back hard enough to force your chest against Lady Sara’s. The cold fabric brushes against your hardened nipples, sending your body into shock at the new sensation. You try to turn your head back, searching for any type of clue to tell as to who’s hand it was, but your mind is too fuzzy to work that way now. “Umm…”

 “Hold her steady, Yae. She’s not ready for that now.” The Shogun orders from right beside you. Even without your sight, you can imagine the authoritative frown on her face. A hand tangled itself in your hair and cups the back of your head. Nails lightly graze your scalp while you let out a shiver, a whimper building in your throat as your thighs clench around Lady Sara’s leg. “You can have her chest when she’s more compliant.”

 “H-huh?” You stutter out, mind moving slowly but faintly registering that there’s a lot more to come than you originally thought. In fear, you couldn’t help but wiggle around, involuntarily rubbing your clit into her leg more and more. “W-wait, I-”

 “Shh it’s okay, do not fret. You’ll get my tongue soon enough, little one.” Sara murmurs quietly. Her hands knead tiny circles in your skin before she slowly lifts your body and drags you against her while pulling you closer to her face. It’s hard to move with your own body without sight or your hands, but that proves to be no problem to Lady Sara. You’re so wet- so sloppy- down there that it’s an easy trip. Your body offers little resistance while she gets you into place: hovering right over her head. 

 “N-no!” You whimper out, afraid of what’s to come. The last time she made you ride her face your pussy was sore and puffy for hours. Even the memory has your leg shaking. “I can’t! I’m too- I’m too sensitive…”

  “It’s okay, it’s okay.” She whispers but you know it’s not. It’s not, it’s not, it’s not. Before, you just wanted to cum again. You just wanted a release and blackout in the arms of the Shogun that loves you so much. But she’s cruel. She’s cruel, they’re cruel. They’re all so cruel. And now, you’re just scared of cumming. Because you just know how hard they used to make you go. And every time? “You know I’ll always spoil you.”

 They somehow find a way to make you cum harder than you’ve ever had before. 

 Lady Sara makes you drop onto her awaiting tongue so suddenly, it takes the air from your lungs. Instantly, her lips attach themselves to your clit, sucking and sucking as if you were the most delicious thing in the world. You cry out, squirming as her nails dig into your skin and hold your hips down. The noises she makes as she tries to devour you whole are just so dirty you can’t help but hiccup out a sob. She’s cruel. They’re all cruel. 

So, so cruel.

 Lady Sara flicks her tongue against your clit in rapid succession before licking a long strip against your soaking core. It causes you to moan out long, hard, and loud. You want to think to yourself about how it’s practically a miracle that you’ve managed to keep your voice for this long, but the thought is quickly swallowed up by the sensation of someone forcing you to arch your back once more and pushing your hair to the side. A hand grabs your chin, and suddenly, open mouth kisses are pressed greedily into your neck. You know that mouth. You know those lips. 

 You know who that is. 

 The feeling of the Raiden Shogun’s teeth- lightly grazing to outright nipping at your skin had your moans devolve into mindless gasps of both pleasure and pain. Lady Sara hums into your core, before adjusting her grip on your hips and forcing you to bounce on her tongue. You’re practically falling over, only being propped up by the Shogun’s wandering hands by the time Lady Yae makes her presence known to you again.

 She brings you into a sweet kiss that develops quickly into something more as her teeth tug at your lower lip. You can’t help but squeak as her fingers immediately make themselves comfortable with your chest, pinching lightly at your nipples. You can feel her smirk into the kiss before she moves down and away from your face. You can’t find the words to question her actions as she takes your bound wrists and places them over her shoulders. It forces your body into an awkward stretch as she forces you to keep still, yet close to her. But you don’t have to stay wondering about her intentions for long. Because just as Lady Sara wraps her lips around your clit again, Lady Yae wraps her lips around one of your tits and sucks. 

“F-fuck!” You mewl out in the midsts of Lady Sara slurping you up. “Please! Please? Can I? Can I?”

 Your thighs threaten to close around her yet every time they tighten around her, she seems even more motivated to topple you over the edge. The Shogun busies herself with trying to keep you sane. Her voice is a soothing melody to your ears that you would almost be thankful for if it were for the occasional hand that would sneak down and spread your pussy lips wider for Lady Sara to have her way with you. And Lady Yae seemed to be having the time of her life biting new bruises onto your boobs. Her teeth just couldn’t seem to stay away from your precious chest, now could they? 

 “Can you what, baby?” The Guuji hums while sucking onto one of your pebbled nipples. You whimper needily, just wishing you could see the look on her face. Or on anyone’s face. You’re straining your hands, desperately wishing for something to hold onto. Why can’t they just be nice to you? “Can you cum? Is that what you want? You wanna cum?”

 “Mhm!” You’re panting as Lady Sara rocks your hips into her face. Your chest heaves up and down with every desperate breath you take. You want it. You want it so badly you can’t even think anymore. “Umm...umm…”

 “Should we?” You hear Lady Yae speaks out loud, but you’re more concerned about the thumb she brought up to your lips and presses down with. Instantly, you find yourself sucking on the thumb, swirling your tongue around it dumbly as your brain shuts down. She coos at you gently more than thrilled to see you in such a state. “Should we let her cum?”

 “Hmm,” The Shogun hums into your skin as she presses a kiss to your jaw. You whine for her around the finger in your mouth, and she responds by rubbing your thighs gently, coaxing them to stay open and to receive your pleasurable punishment. Lady Sara responds by lapping at your cunt ravenously as if you were her last meal before death. That pressure you were feeling earlier- it’s building. It’s growing stronger and stronger. That coil in your stomach is tightening. You’re so close now. So very close. It won’t be long before it all snaps, and you’re- “No.”

 Your heart stops. She’s so cruel. They’re all so cruel. 

 “She didn’t win the game.” 

 You call it the Eternity Game. The Eternity Game didn’t get it’s because it takes a long time to play. Nor do you call it that because you’ve been playing it for a long time. Oh no. It got its name for one reason. One reason and one reason alone.

 “She lost. So she has to keep going, doesn’t she?”

 Win or lose, you’ll know they’ll always find a way to make you play this game. And they’ll always make you wait.

 For Eternity. 

 So, so cruel, aren’t they?

 So, so cruel.

[lolita-lollipop]

Royal siren erasermic family? They like adopt you after you hatch from an egg bc they found you or something idk and take you back to the castle and make you their little princess or something cute and fluffy like that.

YANDERE SIREN ERASERMIC FAMILY X BABY PRINCESS READER

Shinso was just out and about, swimming through some forbidden areas he wasn’t supposed to be in, avoiding sharks, when he found an iridescent little ball under some rubble of a shipwreck, it made his gills tingle at the sweet aura that it emmited, he knew, that this creature, was something to protect. It was up until he saw something moving inside that he thought it was just some ancient treasure that would’ve died with this ship, he examined it closer, squinting his eyes, that’s when he realized, it was a Siren. A baby one at that, usually they hatched out of boring white eggs, the royal family’s were gold, but a shiny color changing white that combated the finest of jewels? Never, this little pip was special, he could feel it.

So he brought it back home, through his “balcony window”, debating wether or not he should tell his parents. As you know, he was somewhere where he was not supposed to be, and they would throw a fit. Then again, whatever this thing was, he couldn’t just keep it to himself, something was living inside it, and he wouldn’t know if something was wrong, so he has too. When he did, it came as a suprise that his parents weren’t mad, they jsut kindof stared at the orb, inhaling the addictive scent it gave off, the three huddled around it, aizawa carefully picking the Small thing up, it was only about the size of a pumpkin, extremely easy to pick up, yet he could still feel the heartbeat of a creature inside, it just had to be one of the sirenfolk , there isn’t any other explanation. He stared at it in confusion, noticing the small cracks staring to form.

Then a little hand popped through, and scared the shit out of all of them.

———

As it turned out, you were in fact a siren, a rare subtype of them, thought to have gone extinct long, long ago. The opal-looking scales that littered your arms and tail showed proof of it, this species were intensely more fragile, and weaker, that’s why they went extinct, as they couldn’t hear, and a small crabs pinch could cause major bone breaks, they were just too weak, yet so beautiful. That’s why they were coveted among the royal family. It only helped their growing obsession taht you were so cute.

It might’ve been an act of I’mpulse, but they just needed to have you as their own, of course, their word is law, so they could’ve just kept you, but they felt the need to make it official, they’d already had two pips, you’re just their third! It was simple, of course, you specific species could be born into sirenfolk families, it was just so rare that it had only happened once. You were just so cute, so fragile, just something so breakable, they just

H a d

To protect this tiny lil thing, it was instinctual to feel a protective pull over their little pups, and boy were they feeling that right now, you were special, not just any baby, but you were theirs. Their special little pup, nothing would ever lay a hand on you, ever. It had only be a few days, and word spreads through the underwater kingdom like a wave, from the servant maid who showed them how to take care of you, to the head maid, to a citizen, to the fisher, and eventually, by the end of the week, the whole kingdom was eagerly waiting to get a glimpse of their new princess.

And boy were they shocked to find out it was an opalite, the most rare of rare sirens in the world. Immediately after they had shown you to the world, sitting in a large clam as it was pulled by sharks, the citizens fell in love with you, maybe it was the fact that you were related to their beloved royals, maybe because the royal family would intensely glare at anyone who made negative comments, maybe it was the fact that a few of those people went missing, but who knows right?

You still hadn’t been able to open your eyes yet, and you won’t be able to hear them for a very long time, your hands were about the size of aizawas eye, and you looked closer to a fish than a human, as you hadn’t even developed your face yet, another plus to being the endangered species, note the sarcasm. And guess what? They found it so adorable, just their cute little baby, their little pup who can’t even protect themselves from the water around them. They just loved every part of your little body, from your tails, to your tiny little hands, to your shiny gills. It was all just so perfect- you were so perfect, and you were theirs, they were gonna protect you at all costs.

So of course they did, you were just so tiny right now, they knows practically anything could hurt you, so they opted to be around you all the time, only leaving to hunt for humans that would suffice for their tastes, drawling them in, determined because of that little smile of yours. You motivated them to do it, they were doing this for you. It have them all a sense of pride to have you feel safe with them, to rite them you. On their own terms.

Eri was constantly around you, being that she was a young one just like you, and you were her little sister! So she wanted to always be around while you made those echoing gurgling noises, or flapped your hands around in the water, she didn’t have responsibility in the kingdom yet, unless being cute is a job, so she can be with you jsut as much as she wants. Always sitting with you while you played with the floating pearls that they had arranged over your play area, watching you feel new things, holding you while you dozed off with adorable little bubbles, she always was with you.

Like now, she’s been with you all day, giving you little snacks, glaring at the guards at the door who always had their eyes on you… creeps. The sun was almost setting, and when you’re low down in the ocean it goes pitch black after a little while, and that’s when the jellyfish come out, tonight was one of the most special days out of the year in the northern oceans, the jellyfish festival, the one night a year when the rare white jellyfish would come out to say hi, leaving trails of shimmering sparkle behind them, painting the upper levels of the ocean a shiny silver. It just so happened that it occurred on your first birthday, a very small increment to sirens, as they live almost a billion years, but still a big accomplishment in their eyes. Look! Their little baby girl is turning one! How amazing!

“Do you see them hon? Look, they’re just starting to appear” Aizawa asked both you and eri calmly, swishing his hand through the salty water to pint at the new appearance of white and purple blobs, slowly flouncing their way overhead. Eri smiled up at it, her pointed teeth displayed in full view, her eyes shined at the view, not only of the huge jellyfish, but also at you, who was placed delicately in mics lap, sat up against his chest. Little bubbles escaped your mouth as you blew raspberries into the water, just making the family laugh.

“Mm-hmmm! Look! Look! How pretty! I wanna touch em! Can I touch em!” She yelled at her parents, excitedly pointing towards the jelly’s floating towards the surface, her hair floated behind her as she swished around, shinsho just chuckled, knowing that she eventually would try to touch them, and get zapped, again, like last year, and the year before, and the year before.

“No hon. Don’t do that to us again, you wanna wish your sister a happy birthday? She’s probably really exited!” Mic cheered, distracting his daughter from touching the jellyfish, yet again, meanwhile, you were happily bouncing up and down on his lap, enjoying the freedom of your arms, swishing them all over the place, grabbing the beads around your neck, jsut anything.

“But dad! Why not! It’s not like it’s hurt me or anything I’ll be fi-“ she begged, throwing her hands up in a small tempter tantrum, clearly forgetting her previous events of pain, and idiocy.

“No- nope no no, we aren’t doing this again, please honey, just please, remember last time, we had to clean up your wounds OUTSIDE-of water, you hate going to the surface remember? “

“Yeah but-“ she started speaking, but was soon cut off with a loud giggle, resonating through your lips, kindof rare for you, you hadn’t been very vocal outside of a few gurgles here and there, so it had each and every ones heads turning. That’s when they saw it, your beautiful eyes, shin sing in reflection to the jellyfish. Those beautiful little eyes of yours mesmerized all of them, a pitch black (for protection from the salt), with a shiny silver-like pupal, immediately after they opened, a burst of color filled your vision. You giggled and clapped your hands together with a small toothless smile, watching as the floaty creates went overhead, glittering with the light.

The absolutely gorgeous splash above was admired by the family form their own viewing post, the blues and whites combined to make a heavenly display. You could feel the cool sprinkles of light they emmited hitting your skin, smiling at the feeling, you splayed your hands out and flailed them against the water.

“Ohhhhhh- oh wow. Honey! Honey look! Her eyes opened! Look at taht! Aren’t you just so magical! Look at you, my little pup.” Mic smacked Aizawa over the chest multiple times, pointing at your clearly opened eyes, you just remained oblivious, staring up at all the new things around you, like.. everything! He turned you around to face him, letting you actually see his face for the first time, taking in the long yellow hair, the (also) black eyes, the ethereal face dotted with shiny yellow gills, him, you could see him!

“She’s developing smoothly, I’m glad. Awww, that’s pretty cute.” Aizawa replied to him, holding in his emotions, as soon as he met those new eyes of yours it’s like everything else disappeared, like the world itself didn’t exist, outside of him, and his fmaily. You took his breath away, or what you could call breath, so cute and innocent, such a small thing, that brings so much joy. Your little tail swished back and forth as you stared up at them happily, taking in the features of the people you’d learned to recognize by touch. Blowing raspberries out of your lips with a stream of bubbles.

“Awwwww! I’m gonna cry, she’s growing so fast! Soon she’ll be swimming in her own! In like 200 years! Too soon, way too soon. Comers baby- mm hmmm” mic spoke, knowing full well that even if he did cry, his tears would get sucked in by the ocean. He pulled you close, moving your head I’ve this shoulde is it would rest in the crook of his neck while he hugged you, eventually, the others joined in, eri practically flopping ontop (with careful regard for you of course).

They all stared at you, while you stared up at the “sky”, oblivious to their stares, to the ways they would growl at anyone who came close, to how they kept you from seeing anyone other than what they personally approve. After all, you are jsut their little pup, of course you wouldn’t notice! Their little pup… feels right to say that, it isn’t like you have any family waiting, they aren’t ever gonna come here.

And if they ever did?

Then, well, a few mermaids are going missing

———————————————————————————————————

Thanks for requesting, this was fun to write!

Have a great day today! Goodbye.

[thethreebroomsticksficfest]

A Bad Idea

It's our penultimate fic of the fest and @starlingflight has wrangled you all invitations to Ron & Hermione's wedding! The drinks will be flowing, love will be in the air and some might say it's a perfect recipe for disaster...

AO3 link.

Username: StarlingFlight

Pairing: George/Angelina

Warnings: NSFW

Muggle music, George decided, was bloody awful. Muggle alcohol, on the other hand, was proving to be just as effective as its magical counterpart. He studied the tall glass in his hand, holding a drink that  looked like a sunset in a glass, starting a bright sunshine yellow and gradually darkening to a rich, warm red

“What’s this called again?” He had to shout the question over the insistent pounding of drums and a very excitable duet singing about someplace called the ‘Love Shack’. 

The girl sitting across from him shuffled her chair closer, edging around the table until her knee bumped into George’s beneath the delicate, lace tablecloth. “Sex on the Beach.” She had moved so close that her lips brushed George’s ear as she spoke. 

He pulled back just far enough to see her face, inches from his own. Her chocolate hair was weaved into the same intricate style as Ginny’s and Luna’s and she wore the same flower-bedecked, baby blue dress, marking her as a bridesmaid and, most likely, one of Hermione’s Muggle cousins.  

“Is that the name or a suggestion?” 

She laughed far louder and more enthusiastically than the joke truly warranted. One of her hands landed boldly on George’s arm. He smiled triumphantly to himself and took another sip of the sugary sweet cocktail. 

“Do you want to get out of here?” she asked. The multicoloured lights continued to strobe across the room, turning the tablecloth red, green and purple as though it had been hit by a colour-changing charm. 

He smiled warmly back at her and opened his mouth to respond when - 

“George!” 

The bridesmaid’s hand fell away from his arm as they both turned to look behind them for the source of the shout. George suppressed a groan, Ron and Harry were staggering towards him, their arms thrown around one another’s shoulders. 

“Alright?” Harry said, pulling out the chair on the opposite side of George and placing the amber-coloured pint glass he carried on the table with unnecessary force, causing some of the drink to slop over the side and spread across the tablecloth. 

“Charlotte, I think Melissa was looking for you,” Ron said apologetically to the bridesmaid. 

She hesitated for a moment, her eyes lingering on George, before pushing back from the table and scanning the busy dance floor next to their table. “I’d better go,” she said, sparing George one final glance before disappearing into the crowd of exuberant wedding guests. Ron wasted no time taking her vacated seat. 

George turned to him, tearing his eyes from the dance floor. The bridesmaid was no longer visible, replaced by Bill spinning a laughing Fleur, narrowly avoiding a middle-aged couple who George did not recognise. 

“Don’t you both have wives to entertain?” 

“They’re dancing with each other,” Harry said, gesturing with his pint towards the opposite side of the wide room, where Hermione, Ginny and Luna had carved themselves a space in front of the DJ booth. They were hard to miss; Hermione looked the vision of a bride in her floaty, white dress, Auntie Muriel’s tiara flashed jewel bright in the disco lights, Ginny’s bridesmaid dress had had to be let out several times to accommodate for the baby bump which seemed to double every time George saw her recently and Luna was dancing with such wild abandon that several people nearby had paused in their own dancing to watch her. 

George made a show of looking at his watch. “I think you’ve set a world record,” he said, looking up at Ron. “Married less than five hours and she’s ditched you already.” 

The scowl he’d expected in response did not come. Ron had barely looked over at George, he was gazing over the crowded dance floor at Hermione as though he had never seen anything so miraculous in his life.  George took another sip of his drink, swallowing down any further taunts that he ordinarily would have been unable to resist. 

“Ginny sent us over,” Harry said, his expression only slightly less pathetic as he looked over at the dancing girls. “She says to remind you that you’re not allowed near any of Hermione’s relatives.” 

George rolled his eyes, he had received this warning multiple times since the wedding ceremony this morning. His mother had cornered him whilst Ron and Hermione were signing their marriage certificate, Ron had reminded him during the endless session of posed photography in the manicured gardens of the country hotel Hermione’s parents had paid for for the day and Fleur had kicked him under the table at dinner when he’d innocently made one of Hermione’s cousins laugh. 

“I hope Charlie’s getting this lecture as well.” 

Ron snorted into his drink. “Unless one of Hermione’s cousins sprouts wings and starts breathing fire, I don’t think Charlie will be interested.” 

Harry nodded in agreement. “He seems to be a bit busy anyway.” 

George followed Harry’s eyeline and saw Charlie stood to the side of the dance floor with Victoire balanced on his shoulders and Teddy stood on his feet, swaying in time with the music. George’s smile spread unbidden across his face as he took in the scene. 

“Fine,” he said, holding his hands up in surrender. “But answer me this, why is Harry allowed to impregnate our sister and I’m not allowed to snog Hermione’s cousin?

“I married your sister,” Harry said immediately, his face glowing crimson even in the semi-darkness of the wedding reception, just as George had hoped it would. 

“And don’t use words like ‘impregnate’ and ‘our sister’ in the same sentence,” added a revolted looking Ron. He lifted his pint glass and emptied it in one deep swallow, George suspected he was hoping enough alcohol might help him erase the last thirty seconds from his memory. 

“Look there’s Angelina,” he said, placing his empty glass back on the table and pointing in the direction of the bar. “Angelina! Come here!” 

Angelina turned towards them. She was holding a translucent yellow drink, which looked like fizzy apple juice. Her braided hair had been swept into an elegant knot on top of her head and she was wearing a wine-coloured dress that did a remarkable job of drawing the eye to her curves. 

“Alright, you three?” she said upon reaching their table. She took the empty seat beside Ron, placing a kiss on his cheek as she sat. “Congratulations! Who’d have thought, all those years ago back in Gryffindor Tower, that you'd actually manage to get Hermione up the aisle!" 

George grinned. "I definitely didn't think he had it in him."  

Ron’s dazed smile remained in place; he nodded in agreement. “I know,” he said dreamily. 

“A toast!” Angelina declared, holding up her glass in the air. “To Ron and Hermione!” 

“To Ron and Hermione,” George and Harry repeated. 

The four of them clinked their glasses together loudly. George drained the last of his Sex on the Beach and slammed his empty glass back onto the table. Angelina made a noise of disgust. Her nose wrinkled as she looked cautiously at her now half-empty glass. 

“What in Merlin’s name is that?” 

Ron made a shushing noise and checked nervously over his shoulder for any nearby Muggles. It was pointless, George thought, given the volume of the music, which now featured a cheerful tune and a male singer begging someone called Eileen to ‘come on’. 

“What did you order?” Harry asked, taking Angelina’s drink from her and giving it a cautious sniff. 

“I told the barman to give me something strong,” she said. “He said it's triple vodka and red bull?” 

“Triple vodka,” Ron repeated. 

“Red bull,” Harry said, mirroring Angelina’s earlier look of revulsion. 

George had no idea what red bull was and, judging by Harry’s face, he did not want to find out. “Come on,” he said, pushing away from the table  and holding out his hand to Angelina. “I’ll get you a Sex on the Beach, it’s good.” 

Angelina’s eyebrows shot up; a sly smile spread across her face. “Is that a drink or a proposition?” 

“Go with him Angelina,” Ron said, pleadingly, “and keep him away from any of Hermione’s relatives!” 

Laughing, Angelina rose to join him. She picked up her glass and forced the last of her drink down. “No point in wasting it,” she said in response to Harry and Ron’s puzzled expressions. 

Angelina laced her arm through his as they moved away from the table. The hour was late, the reception room had been steadily emptying for the past hour leaving their path mostly unimpeded. 

“What are you having?” George asked as they reached the bar.  Earlier, the crowd surrounding it had made getting served a challenge; now the only people ahead of them were one of Hermione’s Muggle uncles and Neville, who seemed to be buying enough drinks to cover the entire guestlist. 

“I’d kill for a firewhiskey,” Angelina said, leaning towards him so that no nearby Muggles could hear. 

George picked up the laminated cocktail menu sitting on the bar and examined it. The look of distaste on his face had nothing to do with the way the sticky menu stuck to his skin and everything to do with the various sickeningly sweet drinks printed upon the paper.

His gaze flicked to the row of backlit shelves behind the bar, each one hosted an assortment of bottles filled with different coloured spirits. The music, which had started out fun and entertaining now seemed loud and irritating. 

He looked from the bar to Angelina, “I have a bottle of Firewhiskey in my room.” 

Her eyebrows shot up. “George Weasley, are you inviting me to your hotel room?” Angelina’s scandalised act was somewhat diminished by the amused smile on her face. 

“You said you’d do anything for a firewhiskey,” George reminded her. 

“I said I’d kill for one,” Angelina corrected.

“Are you suggesting that accompanying me to my room sounds less pleasant than murder, Angelina?” George asked, only pretending to be affronted. 

Angelina pretended to look thoughtful; she tapped a finger to her chin and hummed in contemplation. “Is it a good year?” 

“Seventy-eight - some would say the best.” 

“I think most prefer seventy-seven,” she said, but she smiled as she gestured for George to lead the way to his room. 

They passed the dance floor again as they headed for the exit. Ron and Hermione had been reunited and were now swaying slowly in the middle of it. 

“Do you not need to say goodnight?” Angelina asked, nodding in their direction. 

“No, I’ve given them both my congratulations. I’ll see them in the morning, Hermione’s given me a timetable for the whole weekend.” 

Angelina laughed fondly. They continued their journey around the edge of the dance floor, in search of the exit. George nodded and waved as he passed a table at which Bill, Fleur, Harry and Ginny were now seated watching the happy couple dance. Even at a distance he could see Ginny had tears in her eyes; he filed this bit of information in his mind to tease her with at breakfast tomorrow. 

The foyer of the hotel was blindingly bright compared to the dimmed reception room. A huge crystal chandelier cast brilliant reflections upon the panelled walls. A few people milled about near the doorway, clearly awaiting transport home. George saw the bridesmaid from earlier, wrapped, vicelike, around a young man who he did not recognise. No pang of regret, nor any spark of jealousy rose within him. 

His room was situated on the second floor. It was as bland as any other hotel room George had ever stayed in. White and grey paintings hung on cream walls, crisp white linen covered the king size bed and the little 'lounge area' - two grey upholstered chairs crammed beside a small coffee table - looked out onto the neighbouring farmer's fields. 

Angelina followed him inside. She wasted no time kicking her heels off and tossing them on the floor by the door before heading straight for one of the grey chairs. 

"Ice?" George asked, retrieving the bottle of firewhiskey from the small suitcase in which he'd hidden it from the Muggle maids. 

"I'll take mine neat," she said, stretching her long legs across the other chair. The skirt of her dress slid slowly up her thigh. George looked away, focussing on pouring out the firewhiskey and sending Angelina's measure levitating across the room to land in front of her on the little table. 

She smiled gratefully, lifting the glass to her lips. George settled on the bed across from her, kicking off his black dress shoes and loosening his tie. 

"Now, that's a drink," Angelina said through a sigh. 

George took a long sip of his own drink. The exhaustion of the day seemed to melt away as the firewhiskey seared through his veins, burning new life into him. 

“The sex on the beach was good,” George said fairly, earning him more raised eyebrows from Angelina. “I think you’re just picky.” 

Her laughter seemed to fill the small hotel room. “I have taste, you mean.” 

“You have taste?” George repeated incredulously. “Shall I remind you of Nick the healer who somehow had less brains than a mountain troll?” 

She laughed again and shook her head scornfully at him. One long leg stretched across and kicked him playfully on the shin. “Shall I remind you of Katya, the girl who insisted on introducing you to everyone as ‘George Weasley: Order of Merlin First Class’?” 

George winced and took a long pull from his drink. If he was honest, Katya had been pretty unbearable, but he would never admit that to Angelina. “What was that one’s name - it began with a T - the one who made a move on Alicia while you were away with work?” 

“Thad,” Angelia supplied without any hint of discomfort. “Beautiful, repulsive Thad.” 

“He was useless at dodging hexes,” George commented, smiling fondly at the memory of Thad, with his curly brown hair and chiselled jaw, howling in pain from the combined might of Angelina’s stinging jinx and Alicia’s conjunctivitis curse. 

“Maybe we both have terrible taste,” Angelina said thoughtfully. 

George raised his glass towards her, “I’ll drink to that.” 

He drained the rest of his drink in one, refusing to acknowledge the difficult truth. The simple fact that there was nothing wrong with his taste in women, he did not go looking for the marrying type on purpose. He would never again give his heart and soul to another person who could be ripped away from him in a second. He would not put himself at risk of having to endure that kind of pain again as long as he lived. 

“You know who was the worst,” Angelina said thoughtfully, pulling George back to the present. Her glass was now empty and she held out towards him for a refill. George obliged, topping up his own glass too.“The one who stole your watch - Valerie." 

“At least she was a laugh - and I had a spare watch.” 

He lifted his right arm, Fred’s gold watch glinted subtly in the dim light of the hotel room. George took another long pull of his firewhiskey, drowning the throbbing ache caused by the thought of its previous owner. His glass was empty once more. 

“Merlin knows what she wanted with a watch,” Angelina said, staring contemplatively at her own drink. “I don’t think she could tell the time.” 

“She always made me wear a hat when we went out - didn’t like the lopsided ears.” 

Angelina looked up from her glass with an expression of abject horror. “You never told me that!” 

George shrugged and reached for the bottle once more, lifting it straight to his lips, dispensing with the glass. Drinking seemed a safer course than replying. He was not about to tell Angelina that he had preferred covering up his ears too, that it had been the most exquisite relief to look in the mirror and think he saw someone else staring back at him. 

“God, she really was the worst!” Angelina declared, throwing her head back and draining her glass so that she was caught up with George. 

He stretched out a hand for her glass, prepared to refill it but Angelina shook her head in response. George watched as she rose from her chair, the tight skirt of her dress hitched dangerously high on her bare thighs. She padded across the room and dropped onto the bed beside him. Her fingers brushed softly over his as she plucked the open bottle from his hand and lifted it to her lips. 

“For what it’s worth,” she said, lowering the bottle so it rested on the bed between them, “I think losing one of your ears was a big improvement for you.” 

George’s laughter shook the bed and caused the bottle to teeter dangerously. He and Angelina grabbed for it at the same time, their fingers locked together around its cool neck. She was grinning wickedly at him, her face only inches from his. Blood and firewhiskey began to pound in his head. 

Angelina’s grip loosened on the bottle. George pulled it towards him and forwent another drink in favour of placing it on the bedside table. He felt Angelina’s eyes upon him as he moved. 

“I only came up here for the firewhiskey,” she reminded him. 

“I know,” he agreed, but when he turned back to face her they both smirked at one another as though enjoying a private joke. 

“You were also tasked with keeping me away from Hermione’s cousins,” George reminded her. 

Angelina’s smirked widened. She leaned across the empty expanse of bed separating them, her dark eyes sparked with mirth and something else, something George had never seen there before but he now found utterly mesmerising. “I take orders from the groom very seriously.” 

In any other moment, the notion of Angelina taking any sort of order from Ron would have made him laugh. Right now, however, George was having trouble catching his breath for vastly different reasons. Her face hovered inches from his, so close he could feel heat radiating from her. 

He couldn’t say who moved first. One moment Angelina was stretched out beside him on the bed, her dress clinging to her curves in ways that sent George’s mind spinning, the next her lips were on his and they were kissing with bruising intensity. 

The empty space between them seemed to disappear. Angelina’s hands gripped the front of George’s shirt, pulling him closer. Her thigh bumped against George’s; he grasped it, revelling in the feel of her smooth, bare flesh beneath his hand. 

“This is a terrible idea,” she murmured as George’s lips left hers and began to forge a trail towards her neck. 

He smiled against her skin, his teeth scraping lightly against Angelina’s jaw, eliciting a moan which sent a jolt straight to his stomach. She had said the same thing to him a hundred times before, always before following him into some ridiculous plot sure to land them in trouble. 

“The worst,” he agreed, as he always did. 

Angelina released her grip on the front of his shirt. George felt her fingers tremble as she moved to the topmost button and unhooked it. “It is a wedding though.” 

It was one of her weaker justifications but George did not protest. He knew their routine well enough to play his part even when his mind was singularly focussed on the sweet taste of Angelina’s neck beneath his tongue. 

Her hands grew steadier as they continued to work on the column of buttons, exposing more of George’s skin as she went. The tips of her fingers brushed languidly down his chest, sending a ripple of longing through him. 

“What happens at Ashbury Hall-” he breathed. 

“Stays at Ashbury Hall,” Angelina finished, completing their ritual. At the same time she tugged his shirt free from the waist of his trousers and slid it down his arms. 

The cool evening air tingled against his warm skin but George didn’t care. His arms were now free of the confines of his shirt, he pulled Angelina close once more. She moved with the same graceful fluidity he had always admired on the Quidditch pitch, though George knew he had never seen her quite like this. 

It was Angelina’s lips now that moved to his neck, lightly sucking and nipping as she moved towards his chest. George’s head fell back against the pillow; a low moan of pleasure escaped him. Her thigh hooked around his waist and he savoured the feel of her pressed against him. 

It was the closest they had ever been to one another, but it still wasn’t enough. Desperate for more, George slipped his hands around Angelina’s waist, lightly caressing her hourglass curves before moving up her back. The zip holding her dress together was small, delicate, but George had never felt less gentle, desperately he dragged it down.  

They separated only for a moment, allowing Angelina the space to shimmy out of the dress and kick it to the floor, and George enough room to discard his trousers and boxers,  still he felt the loss of her keenly. A curious mixture of relief and desperation surged through him as she returned to his arms. 

The swell of her breasts was covered by a fine layer of red lace. George’s mouth went dry at the sight of it. 

In a flash it was gone. Angelina had unhooked it one handed and thrown the magnificent garment carelessly across the room.  

"Beaters aren't known for their finesse," she whispered, her breath soft and warm against his cheek. 

George brushed his fingertips lightly over her breast; her nipple hardened beneath his touch. Angelina inhaled sharply. "I think you'll find my dexterity breathtaking." 

She lowered her head towards his, "shut up," she murmured before pressing her lips to his, giving George no option but to obey. 

He wrapped his arms around her, gently rolling them so that Angelina was laid against the pillows and George was braced on his forearms above her. Her smooth, dark skin seemed to glow against the white bedding. She was a vision, a bright spark breathing life into the bland hotel room just as she had done for him when he’d wanted to end it all.  

George hooked two fingers into Angelina’s matching red knickers and pulled them down her slender legs, removing the final barrier between them. His hand moved between her legs, every sigh, every moan he elicited from her proving that she had no complaints when it came to his finesse. 

Angelina’s nails scraped down his back, George’s breath hitched in his throat.His mouth moved from her lips, to her jaw, to her shoulder, planting kisses on every inch of skin he could reach. Tension rose inside him like a coiled spring until George could bear it no more. 

The mounting desire within did not abate as their bodies joined together. They moved in perfect harmony, the room filled with the sound of rustling bed sheets and the steady knock of the headboard bumping against the wall. Angelina's eyes met his and George felt as though she could see into his soul. 

If anyone could, it would be her.  If he allowed himself, it would be easy to imagine letting Angelina in. Allowing her to pass the walls he had so carefully constructed around his heart, allowing her the opportunity to, purposefully or not, destroy him all over again. Yet, his mind refused to consider doing any such thing, swiftly blocking out the mere idea of it and George knew there would only be tonight, this was all he would get and so he would savour it. 

He would commit to his memory the way her eyes half-closed in the grips of pleasure, how her lips - so tantalisingly full - parted in ecstasy. He would remember how it sounded when she sighed his name in his ear, her breath tickling his skin like a caress. He would memorise the way their bodies fit so perfectly together, making George feel like he was whole once more. 

They moved faster, the coiled spring stretched to breaking point. Angelina’s nails sank deeper into his back, gripping George to her. The headboard beat against the wall like a drum, the sound mingled with their harmonised cries of bliss.  

George could have remained in that moment forever, but holding on was becoming more impossible by the second. The rhythm they had so carefully maintained faltering as George gripped Angelina’s sweat-sheened hips with white-knuckle intensity. 

Angelina tensed beneath him. With a final cry, she came undone. George closed his eyes as he followed her over the edge, determined to cherish every last second with her. 

*** 

Three Weeks Later:

George flipped the lock on the door, bringing an end to another hectic day at Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes. Hogwarts letters had been sent out the previous morning, an event which always signalled the start of the pre-term rush. 

He turned his back on the door, preparing to survey the wreckage. His carefully stocked displays had been torn apart; decoy detonators were wandering the shopfloor aimlessly, a thick, pink substance seeped across the floor where a customer had evidently shattered a bottle of love potion, and someone had set off a box of Weasleys’ Wildfire Whiz-Bangs which were flying recklessly around the store, periodically exploding into colourful shapes. 

The fireworks disappeared with a wave of George’s wand, bringing peace to the shop once more. He ignored the potion for now, deciding he would feed the pygmy puffs before starting on the real clean up. He had barely moved two steps, however, when the freshly earned silence was broken by a loud pounding on the door. 

“We’re closed!” he shouted, not bothering to turn around. 

He heard the lock click, the hinges squeaked as the door opened. Wand in hand once more, George spun around, prepared to face the, apparently deaf, trespasser. “Impedi-” 

His mouth slammed shut and his wand fell to his side as he recognised Angelina. George frowned in confusion, trying to remember if he had forgotten plans they’d made but he was sure he hadn’t. They had only seen each other yesterday at Alicia’s barbecue. 

“Do you have a Canary Cream emergency?” 

Angelina scowled at him, her foot tapped impatiently on the floor. “Don’t try and be funny!” 

He raised his hands beside his head in mock surrender, supremely confused now. “What’s got your wand in a knot?” 

“What’s got my wand in a knot?” She repeated, her voice rising somewhat hysterically. “You want to know what’s got my wand in a knot?” 

George’s confusion was quickly turning to concern. Angelina began to pace agitatedly in front of the display of extendable ears. George wavered, part of him wanting to go to her and another, much wiser part, aware that he had never been fast enough to block her jinxes. 

“Will you tell me what’s going on - please?” he added quickly in response to her glare. 

“Oh, George ‘I’ve got a bottle of firewhiskey in my room’ Weasley wants to know what’s going on,” Angelina said. George got the impression she was talking to herself. Heat rose in his neck at the reference to Ron’s wedding night, an event that they both had steadfastly pretended hadn’t happened. Except alone at night when George could think of little else. 

“This is what’s going on!” Angelina yelled, dragging George unceremoniously from his reverie. 

She was holding something in her hand, George took a cautious step closer in order to see it. His chest constricted, the room began to spin so that the tiny vial clutched in Angelina’s became blurred. It didn’t matter, George had recognised it immediately. 

The bottle was distinctive: rose-coloured glass with a blue stopper, a small clear window allowed a view of the potion within which would either remain purple when a drop of blood was added to it, or, as it had now, turn a brilliant white. 

“Y-you’re,” George stumbled, the words seemed too big for his mouth. “You’r-” 

“Pregnant!” Angelina finished for him. 

[luciferpanini]

*slides my writing over the table* mafuyu gender moment.

“Oh, I see.” Rui’s eyebrows perk up, an indicator that he’s pleasantly surprised. “So Mafuyu-kun wishes to try out something new.”

Mafuyu listens to his amused giggle. Though they didn’t say a word about it, there’s a sense of weight being lifted from their chest.

“I hope it’s not too much of a shock.” In a delicate tone, they speak, making sure their words are as polite as they can be. “It was not my intention to overhear your conversation with Mizuki, I apologise in advance.”

“Ah, no. It’s alright.” The other shakes his head, only putting one of his hands on their shoulder after they’d nodded, expressing their approval. “I trust you, Mafuyu-kun, you and Emu-kun both. If anything, it’d be a matter of time before I tell you-” He trails off, temporarily letting his thought wander somewhere else. Silent pondering about somebody of whom Mafuyu already has the vaguest of ideas. They do, after all, possess an impeccable intellect. They’re not a genius like Rui (not by a long shot, what a relief- oh…), but their deductions are not half-bad, they think.

“My LINE.” They gently slide their phone across the wooden table’s surface, avoiding some inconveniently placed nuts and bolts, along with a cold, wet can of energy drink. 

“Don’t I have you added already?” Snapping back from his train of thought, Rui asks.

“Not the one I use for the group chat, mom might see. I don’t think she would protest, but I’m not a fan of explaining things to her.” 

“I see.”

“This one I use to chat with Emu.”

Rui pauses, obviously trying his best not to laugh lest it offends them. “What an honor this is then.”

He mutters a small ‘excuse me Mafuyu-kun’ (they’re quite fond of the way he refers to them, the kind of fondness that is way different from not disliking something, still hazy just like the rest of Mafuyu’s yet to be unlocked emotions, but it’s undeniably there), hovering his phone above her screen.

They both click their tongues when Rui’s camera absolutely refuses to focus on the QR code for a good 10 seconds, what a finicky thing.

“There. Feel free to text me anytime, I’m always free whenever you don’t see me.”

Mafuyu nods.

“Though it’s not something we can’t discuss here, Emu already went home, and Mizuki is collecting their stuff. Not to mention-” He gestures toward the empty theme park. “I can stay up a while, it’s Sunday tomorrow, after all.”

Mafuyu rubs their thumb against the back of their hand.

“One can’t work on an empty stomach, no?”

“I’m not hungry–”

“Let me finish.” Rui’s tone suddenly drops, before climbing up to its usual floaty vibes again. “I doubt Mafuyu-kun would be able to give their best performance if they’re not entirely comfortable with themselves.”

(I’m clinically depressed, Rui.) They can only stare blankly at him the moment he spouts out that statement. 

“Ah-”

“It’s alright.” Mafuyu breathes out a sigh. “Do continue.”

“What I’m saying is…” Rui seems to have lost his grip on his own argument, and in the span of less than a minute, they can catch each moment he seemingly comes up with something else before discarding them immediately before they can reach his tongue. “Now we’re wasting time.”

“I’ll text you-”

“You’ve ghosted me 5 times, Mafuyu-kun.”

They completely forgot how incompatible they are as individuals. 

Mafuyu looks up to see the boy massaging his own head, as if they were the philosophical question that managed to break him.

“Alright.” In his last-ditch effort to communicate with them, he pronounces each syllable of that word with determination (and desperation if you look hard enough). “Ask me something, anything.”

They flutter their lashes, raising a hand to silently point at him. Rui’s eyes trail down and he lets out an “oh” of immediate understanding (this goes into his achievements, they guess, Mafuyu’s personal achievement is being able to hold an uninterrupted conversation with Kamishiro Rui for this long.)

“That’s actually the simplest thing, I’m surprised you didn’t know.”

Condescending, somewhere within Mafuyu itches.

“The details.” They quickly defend themselves. “I wish to know the details.”

“Of course.” Rui waves a hand. “Here, I’ll show you. What’s your budget by the way?”

“I have quite the saving.”

“Non-answer.”

Emu, come back, I miss you so much Emu…

“Just show me.” They retort coldly.

“Then come here.” He makes a gesture, beckoning them over. Mafuyu scuttles across their distance like a curious animal. “First off, they’re called binders.”

“The stationary?” They furrow their brows.

“I had that same thought when I was 12. But no, it’s an article of clothing.”

“That one has Miku on it.”

Rui scrolls past it at the speed of light.

[willsimpforanyone]

Angel and Demon (Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader x Daisy Johnson)

'Daisy Johnson X Reader X Natasha Romanoff. Daisy and Nat teaching their baby girl a lesson. Maybe R is sitting on D’s lap (D is brushing r’s hair with her fingers, comforting her with neck kisses) while Nat is just assaulting R’s pu💲💲y. Nat being all dark and demanding 🥵😥🥵 while Daisy is just all gentle, and teasing. 😇Thanks 😊 (I’m thinking the title could be Angel&Demon) thanks so much!!'

thank you so much for requesting anon!

slight warning, this includes dom/sub themes and the use of a blindfold

i really went overboard so here is over 2.5k words of smut lol

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

My bedroom door was ajar, and my breath immediately caught in my throat.

They were already there.

I knew I was in trouble but they really weren't messing around. I thought I'd just been teasing them, skirt a little too short and shirt a little too tight. They'd flustered me so often I wanted to return the favour, and I thought my pretty heels did a pretty good job.

Too good a job.

I pushed open the door.

Natasha and Daisy were sat on the bed, eyes immediately fixed on me. Nat was dressed in black, soft tshirt and leggings accentuating her form. Red hair was tied back in a loose ponytail, matching red lipstick fixed in a slight frown. In contrast, Daisy was in a light grey sweater hanging off one shoulder and sweatpants. Her brown hair was over to one side, one hand fiddling with it, a small smile playing on her lips as her eyes ran over my outfit.

A sharp snap from Nat's fingers. My spine straightened and my hands were behind my back almost before I realised it. She beckoned me forward and I shuffled over, avoiding eye contact. "Kneel," she murmured, and I dropped to my knees in front of her with my hands still behind me, shifting uncomfortably in my heels. A hand came up to stroke my cheek, and Nat guided my head to look up at her. The stern look relaxed from her face for a moment. "What's the safeword, babygirl?"

I smiled, reassured that neither of them would do anything I wasn't comfortable with. "Watermelon."

I was rewarded with a warm smile from both Daisy and Nat. "Good girl." Nat leaned down and pressed a kiss to my forehead.

It was if a switch had been flipped. Nat's expression went cold, and the hand that caressed a second ago grabbed my jaw, jerking my head up to meet piercing eyes. Daisy leaned her head on Nat's shoulder. "Honey, don't be so harsh, I'm sure she didn't mean it."

Nat didn't look away from me. "Daisy darling, she knew damn well what she was doing, didn't you?" The question flushed my face, and I averted my eyes. Natasha raised an eyebrow. "Disobey now, and your punishment will only be worse. Did you mean to be a little tease, baby?"

Not wanting to disappoint her further, I cleared my throat. "...I'm sorry Mistress, I wanted to tease you the way you tease me."

Natasha's mouth quirked upwards at her titles, but quickly smoothed over. "It's not just me you have to apologise to, is it babygirl?" She angled my face toward Daisy, who was still leaning on Nat's shoulder. "Move in front of her."

Obediently, I shuffled over on my knees to kneel in front of Daisy. Nat released her grip on me and stood, moving out of my view. Daisy smiled softly.

"I'm sorry Miss, please forgive me," I whispered, blushing red under her gentle gaze.

"Oh baby, it's okay, you were just playing, right?"

I nodded. "Yes Miss, I didn't mean to step out of line."

Daisy held out her hands. "Let's get you out of those shoes, hmm?"

I withdrew my hands from behind my back and took hers, allowing her to help me stand. She guided me to take her place on the bed, and knelt in front of me, carefully lifting one foot onto her thigh. She unbuckled the heel and slipped it off. "They're so pretty, you really wanted to look nice, didn't you? Our gorgeous girl."

I melted under the compliments. "Yes Miss, thank you Miss."

Daisy removed the other heel and sat back on the bed next to me, patting her thighs. "Come here, pretty girl." I threw my leg over hers, sitting on her lap with my arms over her shoulders. Daisy settled her hands on my waist, warm and comforting. Lips met mine and I sighed, tension melting away as Daisy's tongue slipped into my mouth.

Her fingers danced up and down my sides, lightly squeezing my thighs, pulling sharp breaths and faint whines from my lungs. Daisy's gentle lips swept across my jaw, and I arched my neck, leaning further into her. "My pretty girl," Daisy whispered into my neck, pressing light kisses across my skin. Whining, I shifted my hips, accidentally grinding down on Daisy's thigh. She immediately stills, and I felt Nat come up behind me.

"What did I just see, babygirl?"

Oh god. I'd almost forgotten. My Mistress's hands settled on my shoulders, her lips just by my ear. "Bad girl, you're already in trouble," she dragged her nails along my arms. "It's almost like you want to be punished."

That sent a shiver down my spine.

"Dais, honey, get our girl out of her slutty skirt, will you?" Nat bodily removed me from Daisy's lap, and helped me stand. Daisy slid off the bed, again kneeling in front of me and reached up to undo the zip at the back before dragging the skirt down my legs, assisting me in stepping out of it. The button up shirt that had been tucked in to the waistband of the skirt now hung loose, the hem just dusting the top of my thighs.

Natasha snuck a hand under the shirt, sliding her fingers along the lacy edge of my dark red underwear, and my breath hitched. "Well aren't you just begging, doll."

Daisy let out a giggle, standing up after throwing my skirt somewhere in the room. "Don't be too harsh, honey."

Rolling her eyes, Nat smiled at her despite herself. "Darling she's been bad, I'm merely going to dole out a suitable punishment." Daisy shrugged, threading her fingers with Nat's, tugging her away from me for a moment. "Feeling a little left out?" Nat teased.

"Never." Daisy pulled Nat forward, pressing their lips together and wrapping her arms around the redhead's waist. It was only then I saw the ribbon of silk hanging from Nat's hand as it was dragged across Daisy's bare shoulder. I desperately tried not to rub my thighs together, staying as still as possible; Nat would not take kindly to further disobedience.

Daisy left small red marks down Nat's throat, and Nat's eyes met mine, smirking as she allowed the other to slip her hands under the black tshirt. I bit my lip, attempting to suppress the whine that threatened to spill over as Nat moaned under Daisy's ministrations. "Look Daisy, our poor baby trying to be good for us."

The brunette smiled, kissing Nat once more, before allowing herself to be pushed back onto the bed. She reached out for my hand, tugging me over to sit on her lap once more, this time facing outward. Daisy's arms came round my waist and secured me to her. Nat stood over us, playing with the silk ribbon.

"Time for you to really apologise, sweetheart." She smirked.

Daisy whispered in my ear. "We don't have to, you can stop us at any point, we promise." I turned my head to catch her lips with mine.

"Don't stop."

Nat grabbed my jaw, pulling it back to face her. She placed the ribbon over my eyes, carefully tying a secure knot behind my head. My world was enveloped in darkness. "You okay, babygirl?" Came Daisy's voice. I nodded, feeling a little floaty. Daisy's breath was warm on my neck, I felt safe despite the impending punishment.

"We're gonna need you to use your words," Natasha's firm tone brought me back into reality.

"Yes Mistress, yes Miss, I'm good."

Daisy practically purred in my ear. "Good girl..."

I moaned, arching my back. I felt her hands smooth down my sides and over my thighs. Carefully and gently she slid her fingers between my legs and pulled, opening my legs until my knees were hooked over hers.

I heard knees hit the floor, Nat traced her fingers on the inside of my thighs until they reached the thin cloth of underwear. One forefinger ghosted over the centre, and I shivered, legs twitching.

"We've barely touched you, baby, already so wet?" Nat pushed the finger harder, and I whimpered at the pressure. "Lift her hips, honey."

Daisy unhooked my legs and held me up while I felt Nat drag my underwear down my legs. They repositioned my legs and I felt myself flush red, suddenly very aware of how exposed I was to these two women who had complete control over me. I shifted my hands, finding Natasha's along my legs. Daisy pressed a kiss to my neck. "We got you baby, such a good girl for us." I relaxed, and Nat squeezed my hands.

"Our slutty girl, so fucking wet." Nat's words were breathed over my pussy. I barely had time to respond before she licked a long stripe, gathering my wetness on her tongue. My hands gripped hers and I writhed against Daisy's hold.

"Mistress..."

"Yes babygirl? What do you want?" Nat teased. She didn't give me a chance to answer as she surged forward, tongue pushing against my wet folds. I moaned, eyes fluttering shut beneath the blindfold. My Mistress pulled away, sucking bruises against my thighs. Daisy's knees pushed against mine, allowing Nat further access to delicate skin. "Filthy girl, desperate for our attention." Nat sucked and kissed her way to the sensitive skin of my soaking centre, and her ministrations sent electricity through my body.

"Such a good girl," Daisy murmured against my neck, one hand coming up to the collar of my shirt and fiddling with the buttons. "Can you help me, sweetness?" Shakily, I released Nat's hands from my grip and lifted them to undo the first few buttons. "Thank you baby, you're doing so well."

Hands now free, Nat teased two fingers along my entrance. I felt the rough pads of her fingers match with harsh nips of her teeth along my skin, creating a symphony of sensation. I was hazy with each touch, leaning into Daisy's chest.

I felt hands slide along my ribcage, soft touches and gentle nails scraping just under my bra. "M-Miss?"

Daisy shushed me. "It's okay babygirl, you're doing so well." Her hands slid behind my back, deftly undoing the clasp. One hand vanished from my body. "Honey, watch your head, I'm gonna take her shirt off," Daisy addressed Nat, who gave no verbal reply.

My arms were guided through the sleeves of the shirt and it was swiftly removed from my body, along with my bra. I was completely bare, two pairs of hands fluttering over every part of my body, lighting every nerve on fire. The sounds coming from my mouth were purely instinctual, whimpers and moans coaxed by both my Mistress and my Miss.

There was no warning before Nat slid two fingers deep into my pussy. I let out a cry, hands flying to hers, but Daisy grabbed them and pinned them to the bed, either side of her hips. "None of that, baby." I gasped as Nat withdrew her fingers and plunged them back in. "I know, baby, I know, but you can't touch, you're being punished, remember?"

"M-Mistress!"

Nat set a relentless pace, long fingers driving into me. My eyes were squeezed shut beneath the blindfold, hands pulling at the sheets pinned by Daisy, legs fighting to close.

"Dirty girl, soaking wet for us," Nat hissed against the skin of my thighs. "You wanted this, you wanted our attention, our slutty babygirl." She moved forward, and pressed the tip of her tongue against my clit. The effect was instant, I almost screamed at the pleasure coursing through my veins.

Daisy tangled her fingers in mine, pressing soft kisses to my ear and cheeks. "It's okay, precious, you're doing so well, taking your Mistress' fingers so well, good girl..."

My head was spinning at the contrast between the two; my harsh Mistress Natasha, taking her dirty babygirl apart with her long, skillful fingers, and my gentle Miss Daisy, holding me and grounding her precious good girl and it was so much, too much and not enough all at the same time.

Everything was intensified by the blindfold, every touch sent sparks flying off my skin, every whispered word pulled a sound from my lips. There was a warmth building in my lower stomach, intense and hot.

"M-Miss, Mistress, please, please-"

"What's wrong, sweetheart?" Daisy hummed against my neck, hands squeezing my chest. "Too much, my precious girl?"

I shook my head. "Don't stop, please please please don't stop Mistress!"

Nat kept up her harsh rhythm, fingers pounding into me relentlessly. "Greedy girl, this was supposed to be a punishment," she teased, breath ghosting over my skin. I merely cried out again, and she laughed. "Our dirty girl gonna come? Gonna come on my fingers baby? Should I let you come?"

I could hardly get the words out. "Yes yes yes please Mistress I'll be good I swear-" She cut me off, tongue abusing my clit with sudden ferocity and a scream ripped from my throat.

"She's been good, Nat, hasn't she?" Daisy released my hands to bring both hers to my chest, rolling my nipples between two sets of fingers. "Let her come, honey, she won't do it again, right?"

I made a strangled noise that was supposed to be some form of confirmation, Daisy laughing into my neck.

Natasha said nothing, merely going harder and faster and coiling the heat in my stomach tighter and tighter. Still unable to see, I obediently kept my hands by my side, fists clenched.

Fireworks exploded under my eyelids, every muscle in my body tensed, the coil in my lower stomach snapped and I came hard on my Mistress's hand, my Miss murmuring encouragements into my heated skin.

I was completely limp in Daisy's arms, even as she picked me up and took me to the bathroom closely followed by Natasha. Daisy set me down in the bathtub, turning on the tap while Nat washed her face.

"How're you feeling, baby?" Daisy smoothed hair out of my face, and it took effort to focus on her face.

"Uh," I swallowed. "Kinda floaty..."

Daisy nodded. "That's okay sweetie, we'll take care of you- I'll run you a bath," she turned to Nat. "Can you get some water please, babe?"

"Of course." Natasha leaned over and pressed a kiss to my forehead, sending a gentle smile my way.

In a few minutes, she returned to the slowly filling bathtub with three waterbottles. "Still floaty?" I nodded. "That's okay, it's just you returning from subspace, okay?"

I smiled at her sleepily. "Mhm." I made grabby hands at the waterbottle, and she handed it over with a light laugh.

She sat beside Daisy and kissed her cheek. "You okay?"

Daisy nodded. "I'm fine, honey- you thinking we clean up and go to bed?" Both Nat and I muttered our assent. "Alright then, come on baby," she turned off the tap and reached for the body wash. "Let us take care of you, okay?"

I blinked, and smiled cheekily at the pair of them. "If that's what I get when I misbehave, I might start doing it more often."

Nat rolled her eyes, but smirked. Leaning over to press a last kiss to my neck, she grazed my ear with her teeth.

"Misbehave like that again, and you'll be in for worse than that."

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

i very much hope you enjoyed! i hope you did, it took me many hours and now my shoulder hurts from typing but it was worth it

[fandomfluffandfuck]

S I just had the horniest thought bc I saw that were talking about Evans Mackie and Seb (also I haven’t read that fic but it’s in my private browser for later 🥴). Seb sitting on one of their laps on a bed while the other is in front of him. So one of them is slowly touching Seb and getting him all soft and floaty while the other is kissing him in front and asking Seb what he wants to do. “You want us to take care of you, honey? We’ve got all the time in the world, don’t have to worry about a thing. We’ll let you relax a little, know you’ve been stressed with filming and interviews and all. Just want you to feel good and let us take control for a little while, yeah?”

Sebbbbb, he’s probably been floating all week and for his doms to notice it too? That he needs to be taken down so gently and let himself be soft and vulnerable? Oh, Evans and Mackie would take such good care of him, make up some dumb excuses as to why they’re too busy for everyone else for a few days as soon as Seb’s schedule clears up. U know what, this was more soft than horny but I stand by it ☺️ here, have some soft horny thoughts 🥳

related to this

Good to know that you're gonna read that fic lol, I hope you enjoy ;)

Mmmmm that's such a good thought. I'm thinking that Chris would be the one who's got Seb in his lap, his chest to Sebastian's back. His big, broad hands moving all over his body. Stroking and petting him while Mackie sits in from of them, yeah. He's got a filthy fucking mouth for sure. After all, the man has mastered the art of getting Sebastian to flush without lifting a finger to place against him. Chris can easily back him up by touching Sebastian delicately, or meanly, it simply depends on how Anthony's mouth runs. Humming in his ear, rubbing his beard over Sebastian's bare shoulder or his neck or cheek until he shudders.

Also, yes, yes, yes- an extension on Mackie's filthy mouth: dude can fucking Kiss. Chris really likes slow, deep, intimate kisses that land a curl in Sebastian's toes while Mackie likes to get Seb so wound up that he can hardly kiss back, so lost to subspace. Or... if he's not that deep yet, then the next best thing (that makes Anthony's cock get harder every time) is when he kisses the sub so good that he whines into his mouth. Aching for more.

"Ya want us to take care of you, baby?" Anthony croons, holding Sebastian's jaw in his hand, forcing him to look at him or admit defeat and shut his eyes. "We’ve got allll the time in the world," he threatens, voice hot and thick. Dark eyes heavy on Sebastian's flushed face, "don’t have to worry 'boutta thing." He leans in to kiss Sebastian, only pulling away far enough to whisper, Anthony's full lips brushing against Seb's. Chris' lips against Sebastians shoulder, nibbling him as he pants. Cock desperately hard. "We’ll get you to relax a little, I know you’ve been stressed out, baby, filming an' interviews and all that." Sebastian takes a good moment before he can nod in responce. It makes a feral grin bloom over Mackie's mouth, leaning back. Its such a good look that Chris makes a hungry nosie. "Just want you to feel good and let us take control for a lil while."

Chris seals the promise too, licking his lips, staring at Anthony and echoing, "yeah."

They spend the night working Sebastian over... taking turns petting him and holding him down. One of them touching him everywhere but his cock, flushed, hard, and dripping for them, before long, until he's squirming. At which point the other has to clamp their hands around his wrists (maybe with the other hand around his throat) to keep him from grinding his cock into whatever is closest. Whether it's someone's thigh or the bed or a pillow. Poor baby is so needy. So needy that they keep giving him exactly what he wants (but not letting him cum) until he breaks.

Accepting the soft torture with a sob and sagging back into whoever is holding him currently.

He's rewarded beautifully; with Chris' mouth around his cock and Anthony's teeth high on his throat. Claiming and marking him (also ensuring that, exactly, yes, he's got to stay inside for the next couple of days until it fades because not even a turtleneck will cover the bite. Chris and Anthony keep him down for a good portion of that time, taking good care of him. Too busy for anyone but their sub.)

Thank you for the thoughts! I hope you didn't mind my expansion on them! <3

[voiceless-terror]

Outside the Lines

for @archivalpride month! the prompt was ‘sharing clothes’ so I decided to add on a bit to my More than Enough archives polycule fic. you don’t need to read it beforehand, though. 2.2k words, cw in the tags.

Jon likes Sasha’s clothes. Particularly, her cardigans.

They’re warm, oversized things in pastel colors, chunky cable knits and ancient pullovers, smelling faintly of jasmine and sandalwood. There’s always one draped over the back of her chair at work, at home. Sometimes a pile of them.

“Just in case,” she said knowingly, when Jon mentioned the teetering pile on the back of her office chair. 

“Of what, a blizzard?” he replied archly, to which she had no response.

But Jon runs cold, so it makes sense that he’d like them. And eye them. And eventually, borrow them.

“You look good in pink,” she said casually, walking by him cozily wrapped up, surrounded by books for his latest case. “You should wear it more often.” Jon just grumbled in response.

It now sits on the back of his chair.

Point is, they’re not strangers to sharing clothes. Once they move in together, the lines blur even more. Jon’s scarves become hers, her jackets become his. It’s nice when the someone’s scent begins to remind you of home. Embarrassingly, he’s come to think of it like a hug when she’s not around. Perhaps she feels the same way, but Jon’s not going to bring it up. He’s not that maudlin.

“You need to stop me from online shopping,” she groans one day, dropping a pile of clothing into his lap that must have been from the newly-arrived and altogether giant box he found on the steps of their flat. Jon had raised an eyebrow as she guiltily hauled it to her room and got to work. “I swear, I don’t remember ordering half of this.”

“Far be it from me to get between a James and her phone,” he replies, picking through the pile of utterly un-Sasha-like clothing. It’s all floaty tops and tiny skirts, nothing like what she usually gravitates toward. She certainly has more...adventurous tastes, when she’s intoxicated.

“Don’t look at me like that.”

“I’m not looking at you at all,” Jon retorts, picking up the most offensive piece from the pile with his thumb and pointer finger: a muted brown, and yet somehow sparkly miniskirt. He raises a judgmental eyebrow. “Really?”

“I was not in my right state of mind, you know that.” She ran a hand over her face, refusing to look him in the eye. “Anyway, see if there’s anything in there you like. Otherwise, it’s all going back.”

Jon very much doubts there’s much in here for him - not a chunky knit in sight. The tops aren’t too bad, but a bit too sheer for his liking, and if he’s going to layer, he’d rather be comfortable than fashionable. He pushes the pile off his lap when something catches his eye. Buried beneath two very loud shirts is something black, with bits of lace. He pulls it out to find a simple black dress, high-necked with pearl buttons and slightly puffed sleeves.  It’s modest, but covered in a delicate lace pattern. His grip tightens incrementally. “You don’t like this?”

Sasha peeks her head around the corner. “S’bit short on me. You should try it on, though. It’s cute.”

Jon flushes. It’s something he might’ve worn in uni, when he and Georgie made a night of it and Jon had just enough liquid courage. Now, though, it doesn’t fit with his professional persona and strict uniform of blazers, vests, and button ups. He needed to be taken seriously, and he didn’t feel he could do that if he was...experimenting, as his grandmother would phrase it. His hair he still wears long, the only vestige of that life he kept. “Oh,” he responds automatically, “I couldn’t.”

Sasha blinks. “I think you’d look really nice. Put your hair up, maybe add some earrings.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I’m not.” She comes behind his perch on the sofa, gathering his hair up in her hand and pulling it from his face. “Leave a few pieces out, y’know, artfully messy.” She takes the dress and pulls it up against his body. “What do you think?”

“Um, maybe,” he barely manages to whisper. It feels nice, right. He can see it in his mind’s eye - it looks very him. Not feminine or masculine, just pretty. Just Jon. “I’ll think about it.”

He thinks about it. The dress hangs in the back of his closet, untouched and passed over many a morning. He tried it on and Sasha had been right- of course she was, she’s good at that sort of thing when not inebriated. Maybe one day he’d wear it out - not to work, but to drinks or something.

Maybe.

It’s not until months down the line that he tugs it out, on one of those days where he feels like his body doesn’t make sense and names sound wrong in his ears. Drinks with Tim, the newest recruit to their department. Hard won drinks, if Jon might add; Tim was just starting to open up to them. He tugs the dress over his head and digs through a plate on his dresser for the long silver earrings Sasha gave him last Christmas. He studiously avoids the mirror on his way out the door, throwing his bag over his shoulder and standing in the doorway, as if waiting for Sasha’s reaction. 

This was a bad idea, he thinks as his palms start to sweat. You look ridiculous, you shouldn’t have- his thoughts are interrupted by a gentle hand tucking a piece of hair behind his ear. Sasha smiles at him.

“Oh, you’re perfect.” 

Tim thinks so too.

----------

“Oh man, I’ve got to get rid of that.”

Tim motions to the blazer in Sasha’s hand. “Hasn’t fit me since uni. Y’know, when I got these guns.” Sasha rolls her eyes as he makes an exaggerated motion with his arms. They’ve been cleaning out Tim’s apartment for the past few hours, she and Tim in the bedroom while Jon sorted through his books in the living room. She suspects he’s doing more reading than sorting.

“Why’d you keep it, then?” She holds the hanger up, smoothing the fabric out with her hand. It’s heavy, quality fabric. A shame to get rid of it.

“Dunno, just one of those things,” he shrugs, throwing another pair of joggers onto the bed. “It was expensive, but I only ever wore it to interviews for internships and the like. You can toss it in the donate pile.”

She hums idly, making no motion to get rid of it. She’s rather fond of blazers, has quite a few in her collection. They’re nice when she wants to be a bit more dressy and professional. A woman’s outfit can occasionally be her armor, particularly in academia, and nothing says ‘take me seriously’ like a nicely fitted jacket and skirt. Never mind how it makes her feel. But this is very much a men’s blazer, barely a nip at the waist and with nothing to outline the curve of her body. And yet.

She shoves it in her bag. If she doesn’t like it, she’ll throw it out.

_______

When Jon and Tim are tucked in bed, she tries it on.

She doesn’t know why she’s being so secretive about this. It’s not like Jon and Tim will care, it’s just clothes. Lord knows she’s encouraged Jon to wear whatever he wants, and there’s no surefire way to get Tim blushing like wearing one of his pullovers. But there’s something that feels a bit transgressive about it. She was generally drawn to more feminine looks, growing up as a tall girl there’s an inherent (perhaps taught) idea that making herself look smaller and delicate would make her more appealing. Appealing for what? She always wanted to ask. But she knows the answer now. It’s taken near a decade to get the slouch out of her posture and to get comfortable wearing heels. 

It seems silly to feel so cowed by a blazer. She’s thirty years old, unmarried and living with two partners. She stopped playing by the rules a long time ago. Her hands shouldn’t be shaking. For Christ’s sake, just put it on.

She slips her arms into the sleeves, pausing to inhale the leftover scent of Tim, his laundry detergent and the after shave he occasionally wears. Her entire body warms, like stepping into a bath. She slips the rest of it on, pausing to adjust the shirt underneath. When she looks in the mirror, she can’t help the grin that fills her face. She looks good. Her broad shoulders fit the line of the jacket perfectly, her curves hidden and barely even suggested by the cut. It is decidedly not feminine. 

She likes it.

It takes her twenty minutes to drag herself from the bathroom and back into bed. She lies awake through Tim’s light snores and Jon’s murmuring, filled with a strange, nervous excitement. It’s just a blazer, she thinks to herself somewhat giddily. It’s just clothes. But when she throws it on that Monday morning and steps into the kitchen, she starts to think it might be more than that. She walks a little taller, feels a bit more at home in her skin. Tim choking on his orange juice when he sees her is just an added bonus.

“Glad you kept it,” he stutters out, once he manages to stop gaping.

She’s glad too.

______

Martin’s sitting on Jon’s bed, watching as he runs a brush through his hair.

Jon’s hair is lovely, long and shiny. His own he keeps rather short, though the curls are getting a bit unruly these days. When he was a child, his mother insisted he keep it long, just like she insisted on a great many other things. But he shed all of that, got as far away from it as possible. And yet, eyeing the silvery tray on Jon’s dresser, he has to admit he’s curious. 

It’s full of delicate, pretty accessories- hair clips and necklaces and earrings. Jon’s like a magpie, collecting shiny things; though this collection is mostly gifts from the three of them. It’s a little dance they like to do- Jon sees something in a store, stares a little too long, insists he doesn’t need it, and eventually it ends up in their flat. 

Their flat. He’s still getting used to it. He’s never felt at home anywhere, but he’s starting to think he has one now. Listening to Jon hum as he cooks, Tim reading aloud from his recent article deep-dive, Sasha butting in with a comment - these are all good things. The background noise to his days that used to be filled with silence. 

And he’s never been around people so at home with themselves. Martin is so used to putting an effort into how he presents himself in the world, he’s never enjoyed being misconstrued. A strange, delicate balance of pride in who he is at war with a desperate need to be understood and accepted. Palatable. Easier to put yourself in a box with clear labels than to deal with the confusion and the questions. Any passing thought or fleeting impulse that goes outside the lines is dismissed.

But nothing about his situation now is easily labeled, to be honest. It’s hard enough explaining his relationship status to others, though Sasha has a little spiel ready to rattle off at a moment’s notice. They’re all so comfortable with each other, with themselves. It makes him both a bit braver and a bit more afraid.

While Jon scurries off to flick through his closet, Martin gets up, walking over to the collection and picking up the small moth broach he’d gotten him on one of their first dates, before Tim started to come along. The memory brings a smile to his face.

“Oh, it’s lovely, Martin.” Jon had immediately pinned it to his jacket, before reaching down to grab a bag at his feet. “And ah, actually- I got something for you too?”

A little Highland cow plushie. So he had been listening to his rant on Scotland the other day. It still sits in place of pride on his desk. 

“Do you want to try one?” Martin jumps at the sound of Jon’s voice, dropping the pin unceremoniously back into the pile as if he’d been burnt. He turns around, prepared to voice a thousand excuses, a knee-jerk reaction. 

“No, it’s-”

But Jon’s already sorting through the pile with clever fingers, hand lingering over a thin barrette with a tiny, gold flower. Pretty, simple. Martin’s hand itches to reach out but he draws it into a tight fist. Admiring is one thing, but actually wearing it-

“C’mere.” He thinks he should refuse but instead he leans down, lets Jon’s fingers wind their way through his hair and feels a settled weight against his head.

“There.” Jon smiles. “That’ll do quite nicely.”

He looks in the mirror. Oh.

It’s barely even noticeable, just a small clip bringing the longest of his curls behind his ear. But Jon’s right. It looks nice. It goes with his hair and it doesn’t feel feminine or wrong, just a comfortable weight against his head reminding him he belongs, he’s loved. And that Martin’s still himself, even if he steps outside of the box every now and then. 

“You don’t have to keep it in if you-”

“No. I like it.” He straightens his spine, tilts his head. Smiles. Jon smiles back.

Yeah. He likes it.

ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/31803076

[reidsconverse]

What is it like taking a bath with MGG, no sex? Just a bath? Same for taking a bath with Spencer? Compare and contrast?

spencer:

spencer rarely takes baths, the idea of sitting in his own dirt makes him uncomfortable. he doesn't like how tedious it is to get the temperature perfect, nor how pruney he gets after sitting in water for too long. he honestly prefers showers, likes how they’re quick and easy. the first time you bathed together was after a case. he was exhausted, too tired to stand up, yet he needed to wash off the lingering feeling of the past week.

so you drag him to the bathroom, setting him down on the closed toilet. telling him to get undressed as you begin to fill the bath. he's speculative of the two bottles you hold up, "lavender or vanilla?" you ask him, smiling at the way he inspects each bottle. he chooses lavender. the candles on the counter are lit, soft music playing from the record player in the living room. it's peaceful.

undressing quickly, you pile your clothes on top of his before getting into the water, your back pressed against the cool marble. he's still standing outside the bath, almost hesitant, so you reach your hand out and pull him in tentatively. he dips a toe in, checking the temperature for himself, and when he confirms he's happy with it, he slides in. his back rests against your stomach, his head on your chest. it's reassuring, hearing the simple sigh that falls from his lips as the warmth envelopes him.

you fill up a small jug with water, gently pouring it across his hair before squirting a blob of his favourite coconut shampoo into your hand. your nimble fingers begin massaging his scalp, relishing in the tiny moans that slipped out of his mouth. you lay like that for a while, your hands staying in his hair as his eyes flutter shut. no words spoken, there doesn't have to be, the slight smile on his face says everything.

matthew:

matthew adores taking baths. it's an almost daily occurrence for him, a way to relax after a long stressful day. occasionally he'll convince you to join him, the first time he tries you think it's a ploy to have sex, so you laugh it off, but he assures you that he just wants to share his favourite time of the day with you.

so you agree, allowing him to lead you up to his large bathroom, the area decorated beautifully with an array of sweet-smelling candles. the tub is filled, and you can feel the heat radiating throughout the room, it's comforting. he opens up a drawer, packed to the brim with various bath salts, bombs and soaps, and he asks which one you want. you pick a rose-shaped bath bomb, watching in awe as the water turned a sweet shade of pink. it's pretty.

you sit on opposite ends of the bathtub, legs intertwining with each other under the soapy water. he hands you a glass filled with the sweetest champagne money could buy, it's delicious. you throw your head back and sigh, finally understanding his adoration of this particular pastime. you've never felt so floaty in your life. matthew watches you closely, his hands resting against your legs, gently squeezing to massage away any tension. you two talk about your week, how it's going, it's a nice way to catch up. it's hard to do so when living such an erratic lifestyle.

his hand leaves the water for a moment, reaching out to grab you and pull you towards him, pushing your back against his chest. he wraps his arms around you, placing delicate kisses against your shoulders. his hands tickle down your arm, the sensation making your head spin, and it's so peaceful you can feel yourself falling asleep. you want to stay like this forever, and matthew would happily do so.

[neptune-midheaven]

💓 Astro Notes PT 3 ! 💓

+I’m definitelyy gonna do sign posts soon, like houses, planets, asteroids, and all, it’s all gonna have a theme to each topic yada yada yadaa, so look outtt+

>A bit of a long post here so have fun scrolling through it hehe :))

*All aries risings have sign/house synchronization because the house order doesn’t move or if it does move at all it hardly does, only shifting by a sign or two depending on how late the ascendant degree is, this is notorious of aries’ independence streak by wanting each sign to be in their native houses, to feel its house’s full power, aries rules 1st the house of identity so there’s the more symbolic way for this occurring. It’s pure energy here.

*Venus-saturn, especially conjunction, definitely carry a big daddy vibe. It’s more prominent if the two are placed in the angular houses.

*Taurus and libra are both rules by venus, but these energies are distributed between the two signs in different ways. A basic way to differ the two energy wise is taurus is the “masculine” side of venus, libra is far more “feminine”. Both are delicate but in different ways taurus is “heavier”, for it being an earth sign, contrasted with the airy and flighty libra.

*Libra sun is in fall in astrology, the fall meaning the behavior of the sign contradicts the traditional role of the planet, the role of the sun is to stand out from everyone else, its your radiance, what makes you special, it’s your ego and what you take pride in. But libra wants to be relatable to everyone, to NOT stand out, merge and meet and balance !! This is the opposite of aries, aries is independent, “what makes ME independent, me me me !!”, explaining its exaltation when the sun enters this sign, it’s not absolutely the same as leo sun or the suns energy overall but it’s a close fit, almost... perfect, that’s what the exaltation means represents here. Libra is focused on everyone else around them, everyone other than themselves, the people around them and how they can compromise to fit everyone’s needs. I mentioned before they don’t like to stand out, this is excluding fire placements in a libras chart which will create a person who relates well to others but still demands to stand out in whatever planet is in a fire sign.

*Whatever house leo is ruling is wherever your rising sign’s ego is being expressed in, ex: leo in 11th expresses their ego, creativity with friends, causes. This area of life is where you’ll likely take most pride in, excluding the suns placement in the chart.

*Neptune in 7th can attract a lot of partners in need of healing or help. This person is very healing and guiding in relationships, maybe they could even make a good guidance counselor, but I’m not so sure astrologically because I haven’t looked into it entirely, let me know if this is true.

*Neptune in 2nd is the type of person to browse a shop, find whatever they like but never end up buying it, they change their minds about it by putting it back right before they leave. They could’ve been talking about hooow much they want to get whatever they’re holding onto over and over again but never buy the thinggg.

*Aries mercury were always told to lower their voice or be quiet as kids I swear.

*Uranus in 12th feels they should hide their brilliance, these are veryy creative people they just keep it a secret.

*12th house feels like a never ending game of hide and seek, you find the planet sometimes but you’re always in a never ending loop, always searching for it.

*The moon in astrology, when looking into the mother, who’s ruled by the moon in astrology, describes your relationship with her, what she’s like, how she raised you etc...

*Ex: taurus moons, your mother gave you many gifts, she adored youu as taurus is ruled venus which rules gifts and appreciation, she was also very relaxed in your childhood, she still is now. This relationship is a very calm, steady one, moon is exalted in taurus meaning the role of the moon is comfortable in relaxed and comfy taurus.

*Ex: a moon in 8th, the house of intense and psychic scorpio, could have a psychic or even telepathic bond to the mother, this is a very strong connection overall and depending on its sign and aspects is where you’ll find the specifics of the relationship from, the details, how the relationship is flavored.

*Sun in 12th indicates an absent father figure. This placement is difficult, i’m so sorry if you have it because you can never feel like you can be yourself, it’s hidden from you. With any other placement in astrology, there’s a gorgeous, forgiving upside to it, you’re very healing and understanding of others, an empath or at least someone who sucks in the negative vibes out the environment, it can get quite exhausting !! so always need to seclude yourself now and then, you’re very loyal and caring of your loved ones, people love you for your sensitivity and empathy as this placement also makes you an old soul, someone overflowing with wisdom others rely on.

*5th house shows you what your child will be like, what traits they embody, what they will do and even how they act.

*Capricorn risings look elvish, they have high cheekbones a lot like a LOTR character and elvish, chiseled ears. It’s not OUT there but it’s subtle.

*Chiron in 9th has experienced religious trauma.

*A lot of 12th or 8th house placements carry a lot of karma.

*Mercury-pluto (especially negative) can become inconsiderate in arguments, they bring up a ton of shit to use against you, only as long as they can win.

*Scorpio suns are far more optimistic and light hearted than the moon sign.

*Mercury-ascendant aspects can make even an introverted rising sign more out-going, open, talkative (not that introverted risings can’t be talkative this is just what comes with this placement).

*You may be good at something without realizing it, take a peak at your 12th house or quintiles !! For quintiles, look up the trine form of whatever two planets are aspected for the general description since there’s not too much to find online sadly. 12th house is something you don’t really know or realize you’re good at, especially early in life, the secret talent pertaining to whichever sign or planet are ruling/in this house.

*Leo venus take pride in their loverss like damnnnn they literally treat their partners as royalty, king and queen, kissing the ground they walk on and everything, they’re so devoted in love, it’s adorable !! <33

*Pisces and leo moons, THE dreamiest, most romantic moon sign pairr, it’s well known pisces is the hopeless romantic of the zodiac, however to bring up the flamboyant, dramatic leo moon when describing a dreamy romantic you wonder, really ?? Yes this is extremely true ! Both signs, pisces and leo, are fairly alike, almost alike in fact, considering they both create a inconjunction in the natal chart, two signs who share some similarities while still contradicting one another in ways they express these similarities, both pisces and leo are creative, talented, have a love for the arts, film, music, loyal as friends and love to care for others, both are insanely idealistic. Leo rules the child remember !! so they’re a childlike sign with young idealism, an idealistic moon sign here. Both leo and pisces moons are children at heart, they’re so gooey and sweet.

*Sun in 10th can get any job they apply for, they could even be terrible at that job they want, the one they want to try out for, they would even have a breakdown over how terrible they were in an interview but still get the job like HOWW- WITCHCRAFTT.

*Aquarius mercuries were known as the smartest kid in class, the einstein’s of the class, everyone asked for their answers for the homework, they just carry this flair of intellectual superiority just like the sun sign haha.

*Your 12th house is what you unconsciously give off the vibe of, your ascendant and midheaven are noticeable layers, different types of layers of you !!but the subtle layers of the 12th house, sign or planet, can always be sensed unconsciously, 12th house energies are at a higher octave, a higher vibration than the other houses, even 11th, you can notice a person’s subtle 12th house energy but they’re still completely unaware of it as it’s ! hidden ! from them.

*Aquarius venus, and really all air venuses in general, are soo stereotyped UGHH, what I mean by stereotyped is the descriptions of each of these venus signs is literally like the same shit over and overrr again, they all get terrible reps in the astro community it seems almost close minded because it’s also such a hugee generalization. It’s only about how the air venus energy is used, manifested in the person, if its underdeveloped or not. If it’s underdeveloped it’s going to be chaotically afloat from material love affairs, which earth venuses don’ttt like, water too, fire can handle the floaty-ness but if the passion’s not there- BYE !! If you develop an air venus well enough, you can balance the material and intellectual realms in your relationships, this is kinda natural for earth heavy charts with one the air signs here, however fire or even more air could become a little tricky to ground yourself in relationships. Just let your partners know you deserve your space because you guys can really run out of mental power after a while, so it’s necessary for you to recharge !! just don’t ghost people completely when you do, it’s where this immortal stereotype comes from.

*Saturn dominant people are flawless beings.

*Saturn in 3rd, YOU GUYS ARE SOOOSOO SOOO SMART AHH. Their minds are always running at a fast pace like literal lightning, or they become too overwhelming (not in a bad sense ofcc, it’s just how it is) that the person’s speech rhythm is kinda forgotten about in a way, it feels like that their mouths aren’t always running in sync. The thought they’re going to express into words should come out but it’s so quick or even “heavy” it jumbles up a sentence or it causes the person to mix up a word or two. Their minds are fast fast fastt but they feel like their mouths are running in literal slow motion. There’s nothing wrong with this, this placement makes amazingly smart peoplee. Just relax, try letting yourself go in conversation, let all that big, brain energy freee !!

*Alsoo, as singers they would and definitely ALWAYSS get their notes right, they have actual PERFECT voices, they really should become writers or, like I said, singing would be perfect for them because they would never mess up lmaoo.

*Libra, computerized concern and sympathy...

*Pluto in 8th feel unbeatable, indestructible almost, they have above average regenerative abilities, they have the best survival tactics but they keep it a secret, it’s 8th house we’re talking about.

*Whatever saturn is in is the area where you’ll become flawless in, you’ll master that area throughout your life with time.

*There is a guiding planet in astrology, the planet that is closest behind the sun, it’s considered your “second” chart ruler, or basically has the energy of it because you can probably relate to it being one of the most prominent energies in your chart.

*Sagittarius//9th house mercury is soooo blunt, so blunt. Wait did I mention they’re SOOO SO BLUNT.

*Moon in 5th need to perform, they love to get out on stage and perform with their entire hearts, they’ll do amazing in the performing arts, theatre, and honestly they probably already aree. These people are so playful and generally so fun to be around, they’re natural hypemen as well !!

*Taurus venus love to be appreciated by their partners, the gifts, the kisses, the food and allll.

*Neptune in 3rd feel everything in their environment, they can sift through the energies and vibes, it’s second nature, no not second nature, FIRST nature, they’re one with everything around them. Their minds are like a hazy, cloudy ocean containing every drop, every thought of a place, a person.

*Moon in 11th, and 10th too, have a special ability to understand and sympathize with the public, they always know what the public wants and even how to give it to them. This can easily get them famous since they’re extremely understanding people, especially if moon is healthy in the chart.

*Someone with a lot of capricorn/10th house or aquarius/11th house energy is very extroverted, they enjoy socializing with others but suffer from social burn outs often, they often need to recharge.

*Scorpio risings have intense voices, like their tone radiates throughout your head and it can feel intense overall, even when they’re speaking casually. The specific flavor or tone doesn’t matter but how it sounds overall is piercing.

*In astrology, libra rising starts the house cusps with each houses sister signs ruling each cusps ex: pisces rules 6th house, the house of virgo in astrology. Symbolically, libra wants to balance out the houses by blending the energies with the sister signs together, by with what is (house number) and how it’s done (sign on each house cusp), for balanceee !!

*Moon conjunction uranus TRANSITSS can cause literal earthquakes on earth, shocking news or something shocking or groundbreaking will happen that day either around the world and in personal, daily life. Ex: this transit happened on halloween during the blue moon, so basically no one ever trick or treats in my neighborhood, like barely anyone comes out i mean, it’s always 5 houses apart where people typically hand out candy, some people are just hanging out, we always run out of houses to go to since it’s not very active, but this year EVERYONE was out trick or treating it was so crazy to see so many people out, it was quite literally shocking because that actually never happens also there’s a whole pandemic going on too lmaooo.

[avengerscompound]

The Tower: Happily Ever After - 19

The Tower: Happily Ever After An Avengers Fanfic

Series Masterlist | Character Refrence PREVIOUS //

Pairing:  Avengers x OFC, Bruce Banner x Bucky Barnes x Clint Barton x Wanda Maximoff x Steve Rogers x Natasha Romanoff x Tony Stark x Thor x Sam Wilson x OFC (Elly Cooper)

Word Count: 3582

Warnings:  none

Synopsis: Almost 40 years after Elise Cooper first crashed into Natasha Romanoff outside the library at Columbia University, she and the Avengers are adapting to a near-immortal life together with their large brood of children.  Yet things aren’t perfect.  Life is moving on without them and they’re starting to discover who isolating being immortal can be.When Angela comes and asks Thor to take the throne of Asgard once more, the group leaves Earth in the hopes that they will find their Happily Ever After there.

Chapter 19: Naming Day

When we reached the twins' naming day, I didn’t feel like I was ready at all.  There had been this brief rundown of the procedure that was lost in the middle of all the other things we had happening.

Thor reassured me it would be fine and as long as I just listened and followed instructions, things would be okay.

It would be my first appearance to the public as queen and mother to the heirs since Thour and Nova were born.  I was a little nervous but this kind of thing was becoming a little too normal for me now.  Things had changed a lot since I first bumped into Natasha all those years ago, that was for sure.

We were all dressed in white with gold accents.  No one’s clothing was exactly the same, but the men were all dressed in long white tunics with buttons up the front and high collars, while Natasha, Wanda, and I were in empire-cut dresses made from a light floaty fabric.  It was a change from the usual formal wear.  No one had any kind of armor, and usually, there was more color involved.  Loki explained that this was truly a peaceful event and that dressing for war to name a child was an ill omen.  We each wore crowns or circlets on our heads - mine had a blue gem on my forehead and delicate gold wings on the sides.  Some of us wore other pieces of jewelry too - Wanda had her usual array of rings, while Natasha and I had opted for bracelets and armbands.  Thor had the symbol of Mjolnir around his neck, and Tony wore a watch and a couple of rings.  Clint was wearing the most of all of us, with an ear cuff, choker, thick gold cuffs on his wrists and rings.

The babies were in long gowns of dark red and green.  “You don’t think we’re deciding which one is the evil one and which one is the good one by dressing them in these, are we?” Clint joked as Natasha and Steve dressed them.

Thor laughed loudly.  “I will make sure my brother does not hear that repeated,” he said.  “These are just royal colors, and it is important that they stand out above us today as this is their day.”

When we were ready a set of guards led us down to the courtyard of the palace where three carriages were waiting along with what appeared to be dozens of horses tacked and ready to ride.  I was led to the lead carriage with Thor, Steve, and the babies, while everyone else split themselves between the other two carriages.  The vulparev didn’t like to be separated from the twins by too much and so they jumped in with us, and while Thor and Steve cradled a twin each, the little animals curled up at their feet.

“It’s a shame we can’t all fit in the same carriage,” I said, looking back at the other two behind us.

“Yes, this is a unique situation,” Thor said.  “We discussed how to handle it.  I tried to talk them out of focusing on the children’s biology, but the elders were stuck on it.”

“What will Clarke do?”  I asked.  “She’s not exactly a spring chicken anymore.”

“She is riding in a litter with the elders,” Thor said.  “Do not worry.  We were always going to take care of your friend.”

“Where exactly are we going?”  Steve asked.

“To the roots of Ysgradil,” Thor said. “It is a bit of a journey, so get comfortable.”

When we were all in the carriages Billy brought Piper, Flynn, and Zac over.  “Loki said to put these guys in with you,” he said as he lifted them in.

“What about Ziggy and Anna?” I asked.

Billy pointed to where Fandral was helping Ziggy onto a white pony.  “Gonna try riding for a bit.  They may end up in here with you.  Sif said it’s a long ride.”

“Look at our grandchildren,” Steve said with a tender smile.  “They’re all growing up so fast.”

“Alright,” Billy said.  “You three, be good for your grandparents.”

“We wiwl,” Piper said, sitting up next to Thor.

“See you there,” Billy said.

“Are we ready?”  Riley called.  She sat on a large white horse by the gates.  A few shouts of confirmation came from the guards.  “Onward!”

She and Pietro took the lead and our large convoy followed after them.  Our carriage went next, followed by the other two.  Loki, Sif, the warriors three, and our children all rode their horses beside the carriages, and behind them the guards.

The convoy pulled out into the streets of the city.  People lined the roads cheering as we passed and then joined in at the end, and soon thousands of people on foot and riding weaved through the streets and out into the forest beyond.

As we moved along, up into the mountains people would approach and speak to us.  Thor was who they mostly sought out - mostly telling him that they were glad he was back, and congratulating him on the birth of the twins, though they did speak to me, Steve, and the little ones too, and I saw them walking alongside our children and having longer conversations.

It was a long trip and on the way up the twins were breastfed and fell asleep and Flynn, Piper, and Zak all got very hungry and restless.  We ended up making a little picnic for them on the floor of the carriage to help deal with both issues.  Thankfully having the vulparev with us helped to distract them and they spent a lot of time playing with the little animals.

As we reached the ruins of old Asgard where Sam and I had found the large free-standing door, Tommy pulled his horse up beside us.  “Oh my god, how long is it going to take to get there?”

“We are close now,” Thor assured him.  “Have some patience.”

“I could still be back at the palace taking a bath right now if I’d been allowed to run,” Tommy complained.  “And now my ass hurts.”

“That was a little too much information,” I teased and he made a face at me.  “Didn’t you want to hit on the Valkyries or something?”  I asked.  “There’s a whole group back there.”

He huffed.  “They talk to me like I’m a cute little kid or something.  It’s humiliating.  And you know what else is humiliating?  Being sent back to school and your sister who is eleven years younger than you being in the same classes as you and her being so much better at them.”

“There are few people who can compare themselves to Marya when it comes to book-smarts, Tommy,” Steve said.  “She got the genius genes.  She wouldn’t exactly expect to beat you at track and field.”

“I suppose,” he said.

“Having trouble fitting in?” I asked, reaching over the side of the carriage.

He took my hand and gave it a small squeeze before letting it go again.  “No.  I mean, maybe a little.  I’m alright.  I’m used to having to weed out people who are just trying to use me to touch fame or money.  But here the people who aren’t doing that are either super formal because I’m a prince or they see me as a little kid because they’re all thousands of years old.  But I’m sure they’re not all thousands of years old, so I’ll figure it out.”

“When they are more comfortable with you outside your ranking the age thing will no longer matter,” Thor said.  “We live so long that it becomes unimportant.  What is important is connections.”

“Yeah,” he said with a nod.  “I mean, Becca is there too, having to adjust to it.  I guess I’ll figure it out.”

“If you wish to take a step back from the classes that may be possible.  We can find a role for you,” Thor said.

“No, it’s okay.  I do like the idea of one day being an advisor to you,” he said.  “So I’m thinking of it like college where I am learning to do that.”

“That’s a good attitude, son,” Steve said.

“Just remember, what we want most is for you to be happy and thriving,” I said.  “If you aren’t, we’ll do whatever we can to make sure you are.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Tommy said.  “I know.  I know.  Thanks, mom.”

The canopy above began to thicken and it wasn’t long until we had pulled up into a clearing in front of the largest tree I had ever seen in my life.  It was thicker around the base than a large house and looking up I couldn’t even see the top.  It had large branches that spread out covering the entire clearing and the base was gnarled and twisted, the roots twisting up around it before burying themselves deep in the ground below.

A flurry of activity began to take place in readiness for the ceremony.  As we climbed from the carriage a group of elders dismounted from their horses and began chanting below the tree, praying to the old gods and the tree itself.

The horses and carriages were moved out of sight, and around the edge of the clearing and through the center, tables were being set up with enough food to cater to everyone that had followed us here.

Those of us who were important to the ceremony were guided to the base of the tree where a series of circles had been made with colorful pebbles around the base.  While Steve and Thor held the babies, the rest of our children were guided to sit in the circles, leaving the two spots free at the front free.

When things seemed to have been set up and the large crowd had all gathered around, spreading out down the road we had traveled up to get here, one of the elders stepped up onto the roots of Ysgradil and began to speak.

“We gather here at the base of the world tree for this joyful and sacred occasion that is the first rite of passage we each make as Asgardians.  Let each soul truly be here that those gathered may be blended in one sacred space, with one purpose and one voice,” he called out, his voice carrying through the open space.

“Hail spirits of this sacred land, you whose beauty and power inspires us.  Spirits of the high skies that guide us to stretch and grow, ancestors of light that guide us and provide us with warmth, cloud spirits that paint the sky and nourish our lands, and the cool breeze providing us with the breath of life, provide us with your blessing for these children,” he said.  “Spirits of the dark soil that holds and feeds us; mud of our lands, rich and fertile which we so deeply root; rocks, stones, and gems that give us stability, plants, and creatures that make their home here with us on Asgard, provide us with your blessings for these children.”

As he spoke the elders had begun to build a shrine by the roots of the tree containing soil and gems, water, wine, plants, and things such as furs and feathers.  “Spirits of the open sea that wash over the edge of the world and lap at the shores; meandering rivers, guiding our direction, birthing springs of new life, deep still pools holding us upon our journey; you the tidal waters, emerging and receding, blood and rain, provide us with your blessings for these children.  Blessed be as blessed is.”

When the shrine had been finished and some incense was burning Thor and Steve were directed to place the babies in the last two circles.  Icy and Inky curled up beside them, their tails blanketing the little bundles.

“We gather together at the base of Ysgradil under the gaze of our ancestors to witness this sacred rite of naming and welcoming the sons and daughters of Thor, our king, and ruler of the nine realms,” the elder announced.  “We come to give thanks for the wonder of new life and to honor the task of raising these children to be our leaders.”

Two women stepped forward and moved to the opposite ends of the line of our children, one was very old and stooped, and the other I actually recognized.  It was Katveil who had done the Henhalda on me for our bonding ceremony.   She crouched in front of Pietro at the far end and with a fine paintbrush began to paint runes on his face.  The woman at the other end of the line was doing the same to Riley.

“To know where you have come from we must first honor those that have come first to this place.  Odin the Allfather and his wife Frigga.  Bor father of Odin and his wife Bestla.  Bor’s father Buri, first god and bringer of life to us all.  We honor you here at the world tree and ask for your blessings today for your grandchildren and those that will carry your legacy,” the elder said, as the artists moved up the line painting on each of our children.

“Thor and Elise, Steven and James, Clinton and Natasha, Anthony and Robert, Samuel and Wanda, you have brought your children to this place on the occasion of their first rite.  As their parents, you have principal responsibility for the wellbeing of their bodies and souls throughout the journey of their childhood.  Do you agree to hold this responsibility wholeheartedly, in freedom, with love and joy, with patience and trust?”  The elder asked.

“We do,” we said as one.

“Then let it be so,” the elder said.  The old lady and Katveil had reached the babies and they each kneeled beside them.

“Blessed by the power of creation, this child begins his journey of life, and for his path, he is offered a name.  As he grows and chooses his own way, he may accept or take another name for himself, but he is yet at the beginning of his journey.  There is power in a name.  It is an innovation and a prayer, a gift that is given with poignancy and emotion.  What is the name you now offer your son?” the elder asked.

“Nova Modi,” Thor answered and the old lady began painting Nova's face, making the little boy whine and wriggle in the circle.  Inky’s hackles went up, but rather than try and keep the woman away, he nuzzled and licked at Nova’s face to reassure the baby that things were okay.

“Nova Modi Skjodbærer, Son of Thor and his chosen consorts, prince of Asgard and tenth in line to the throne of Asgard, I present you to your people,” he said and lifted the infant into the air for everyone to see.  There was a loud cheer from all gathered that carried out back to those too far to see at all.

“Nova!  Welcome, Nova!” The crowd cheered.

The elder placed Nova back in his circle.  “Blessed by the power of creation, this child begins her journey of life, and for her path, she is offered a name.  As she grows and chooses her own way, she may accept or take another name for herself, but she is yet at the beginning of her journey.  There is power in a name.  It is an invocation and a prayer, a gift that is given with poignancy and emotion.  What is the name you now offer your daughter?”

“Thour Katherine,” Thor replied, and this time Katviel began to paint on her.  The little girl closed her eyes and made a soft ‘ahh’ sound.  Icy wagged his tails happily as the baby seemed to enjoy the soft touches of the paintbrush.

“Thour Katherine Skjodbærer, daughter of Thor and his chosen consorts, princess of Asgard and eleventh in line to the throne of Asgard, I present you to your people,” the elder said and lifted her above his head.

“Thour!” The crowd cheered.  “Welcome, Thour!”

A group of attendants approached our group and handed out goblets of mead and pieces of dense bread to everyone.  “In order to know in certainty that the flow of this rite is done, we share, while still under the sacred tree, a celebratory drink,” the elder said.  “Blessing upon each of you.”

We all took a drink and a bite of bread and then Thor whispered to me. “Take your cup to someone in the crowd, have the others follow.”

As I did that, handing my goblet and the bread to a woman in the crowd, Thor couched and dipped his thumb into the mead and pressed it to Nova’s lips. He repeated the action with Thour and then handed the goblet and bread to an old man.

As we took our places we watched as the bread and mead was passed down from person to person.  The attendants followed on filling the cups if they emptied and replacing the bread.  

“On behalf of Thor and his chosen, and also Thour, Nova, and their siblings whose names you all know but have only now been blessed, I give thanks to all those who have gathered here this day, in body and spirit, seen and unseen.  To the ancestors of this line that have come to witness this rite, we give you thanks for your presence and your blessings.  From the base of Ysgradil, we bid you hale and farewell.  To the spirits of the land, and air and water, we give you thanks for your presence and your blessings.  We bid you hale and farewell.  To the spirit of Ysgradil the world tree that holds all the nine realms in its roots and branches, we thank you and bid you hale and farewell.  Let us take a moment of silence and feel what has been gained today, that after our celebrations, we leave this place and take its gifts and memories with us and honor them fully as we honor these children.”

We all fell silent and lowered our heads.  Even with the large group who were still passing the bread and mead, the only sound was the children and the wind through the trees.  Finally, the elder broke the silence.  “Go in peace.  Blessed be as blessed is.”

Thor picked up the babies and the rest of our children got up and stretched.  “I wasn’t expecting the other kids to be involved,” I said, as I took Thour from him.

“They wanted them to have the blessings too, even though they already have their names,” Thor explained.

I kissed his cheek and went over to speak to Katveil.  “Hey, Kat, it’s been a long time,” I said.

“My lady,” Katveil said, lowering her head.

“Kat,” I scolded.  “We’ve talked about this.”

“I’m sorry,” she said with a shy smile.  “It has been a while.”

I hugged her.  “I would love to spend some time with you,” I said. “If you have any.  I only know Thor’s friends here.  I’d like to make some of my own.”

“Oh,” Katveil said.  “I would love that.”

“Will Thor know how to find you?” I asked.

“I’m sure he would,” she said with a nod, and then looking like she was summoning all her courage she reached over and played with Thour’s hand.  “She is very cute.”

“Thank you,” I said.  “She looks a lot like Steve.  And he is very pretty.”

She giggled.  “You are very attractive too.  I am sure I can see some of you there too.”

“Thank you,” I said.  “Come with me for a second would you?”

She nodded and I led her over to where Tommy was talking to Rebecca.  “Tommy, meet my friend, Katveil, this is Tommy.  Katveil did my body art back when I bonded with the rest of your parents.”

Tommy gave me a look that told me he knew exactly what I was doing and he would play along but he wasn’t happy about it.  “Hey, Katveil,” he said, offering her his hand.

“Hello,” she said.  “You can call me Kat.”

Tommy looked from Kat to me and then back to Kat, letting out a breath.   “Kat, did you want to get something to eat with me?  I am still learning what Asgardian food is good or not.”

That last bit was a blatant lie, but I appreciated that he was making the effort.

“It would be my pleasure,” she said, excitedly.  “Follow me.”

Tommy shot me one last resigned look and then followed Katveil to one of the long tables.

“Mom,” Rebecca said, tutting me.  “Setting up your kids.  For shame.”

“Oh hush,” I laughed.  “He told me that he’s having trouble fitting in and Kat is the sweetest person I’ve ever met.  I don’t expect them to get married. But she will be a good friend.”

“Aww, Tommy’s got no friends,” Rebecca teased.  “Needs mommy to find him some.”

“Hey you,” I scolded.  “Don’t think you’re too old for me to ground.”

“I think I am,” she laughed.  “But I won’t rub it in.  This is kind of a hard change.  It’s nice you’re trying to help.  Hope it doesn’t backfire.”

I looked over to where Tommy and Katveil were discussing the different foods.  Katveil pulled a face and Tommy threw his head back laughing.  I had a feeling that things were going to work out just fine with them.

// NEXT

[readyplayerhobi]

Jung Hoseok and the Magic to Happiness | 04

; Hufflepuff Teacher!Hoseok x Reader

; Genre: Fluff, angst, future smut

; Word Count: 5.2k

; Synopsis: An unexpected issue with your Ministry of Magic job leads to you taking the role of Transfiguration Professor at Hogwarts. It’s here that you meet your best friend’s younger brother for the first time in years, the Hufflepuff Head of House, Jung Hoseok. While you contend with seeing him once again, Hoseok tries to show you that he’s very much a man and no longer the gangly teenager you once knew.

; A/N: I swear, it’s so hard getting back into writing because I’m permanently convinced that everything I write is bad lol. If you enjoy reading this, please let me know by leaving me an ask or writing a comment on a reblog! I appreciate all the comments I get and it helps to inspire me on <3

Last Chapter ; Next Chapter

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The Winter Solstice Ball was a newer tradition at Hogwarts. Before the Battle of Hogwarts, there hadn’t been anything resembling the ball that would happen. The closest you knew of was the Yule Ball, but that only occurred whenever there was a Tri-Wizard Tournament. 

Something that hadn’t occurred since the unfortunate events of 1994, when poor Cedric Diggory had been murdered by the dark wizard Voldemort. As expected, it had been mutually agreed that the tournament should no longer continue to ensure there could never be another event like Diggory’s death.

Admittedly, that had been a rather unique set of circumstances. The inclusion of the wizard, Harry Potter, in the Tournament had been arranged by dark wizards on the behest of Voldemort, meaning that Diggory’s death had been even more tragic as he wasn’t meant to be there. 

In an attempt to bring more cheer to what should be a happy holiday, Hogwarts had started the Winter Solstice Ball tradition. Unlike the Yule Ball, all years were invited to attend and it also wasn’t on Christmas Day. Instead, it was held on the last day of term and was just a fun event for everyone to enjoy and let off some steam after their first semester back.

You’d always enjoyed it as a student; feeling like a grownup during the first few years and using it as a great way to flirt with boys when you were older. There hadn’t been a year that you hadn’t loved going to it.

It felt a little odd this time though as you were attending as a professor, which meant you had the job of chaperoning all the excited students for the evening. As such, you were excited for an entirely different reason as you would get to watch the First Year’s experience of the ball.

The House Elves had gone all out when decorating the Great Hall today, bringing the feeling of winter inside and taking your breath away. Standing by the open doors, you look around cavernous space with wide eyes and a bright smile. Chaeyoung was next to you, a dress of starlight gracing her body and highlighting just how beautiful she is.

You’d already complimented her as soon as you’d spotted her, admiring the elegant design of her dress and how the tiny crystals are sewn into the fabric reminded you so much of sunlight hitting frost on a winter’s day. Her long black hair was curled into soft waves with her fringe pinned away from her face with a delicate snowflake.

Where she was all light and ice, you were the sumptuous darkness of winter. Your dress was a sumptuous royal blue around your chest which slowly blended into deep midnight by your feet, a shawl of the lightest chiffon in a dark blue around your shoulders. Silver glinted occasionally, threads of it woven through the fabric of your dress and adding a little sparkle alongside the dainty silver necklace around your neck.

The two of you made a striking pair and the combination of a full face of beautiful makeup combined with the jaw-dropping dress made you feel like the prettiest girl in the room. Whether that was true or not, you didn’t care.

The hall itself matched the colour scheme of you both with long swathes of gauzy fabric in rich lavender, crisp white and shimmering silver decorating the tall windows and streaming from the ceiling. Tonight, the ceiling had been enchanted to show clouds backlit by a full moon and tiny flakes of snow fell. They didn’t reach the ground though, melting away a few metres away from the tallest person in the room.

Candles lit the room in all corners, hovering in the air and situated around the room and the tables. A large open space in the centre of the hall was reserved for dancing while a raised section before it hosted the musical entertainment for the night. Small tables surrounded the floor, each only big enough for six people and with white cloths embroidered with tiny snowflakes in silver.

Platters piled high with finger foods dotted the tables alongside empty goblets and jugs of pumpkin juice and butterbeer. A few of the ghosts that haunted Hogwarts floated through the tables, greeting the formally dressed students with cheer and getting into a few conversations with some of them.

Already the hall was filling nicely, students greeting you happily as they rushed inside to meet up with friends and a few of them had already begun to dance. Some of them danced together, trying to figure out how to ballroom dance with the typical awkwardness of teenagers discovering their hormones, and others danced in friend groups. The latter seemed to just be having fun, shaking their bodies wildly to the beat of the music.

“I remember doing that.” Gesturing towards a group of mixed house Fourth Years, you grin at Chaeyoung before chuckling at the memory of dancing like that with Jisoo, Robert and Candace. That had been your ‘group’ of loyal friends throughout your years at Hogwarts, though only Jisoo had remained a close friend once you’d all left.

“Merlin...me too. I had no rhythm back then. Still don’t. Dancing is not for me.” Chuckling, you lean into her and push until she staggers away from you a little before returning the gesture. Glancing around the hall, you note the more introverted people sitting at the tables and sipping at drinks. They don’t seem to be uncomfortable but you resolve to check up on them throughout the night to make sure they’re okay.

“One thing I do love about working with such handsome men here? They make the ball so much better to enjoy.” Chaeyoung hums over the top of her goblet of butterbeer, her refined brows rising in amusement as she looks across the hall. Following her gaze, you have to hide a smile as you take in the sight of some of Hogwarts most eligible bachelor professors and how well they smarten up.

Park Jimin is standing next to Kim Taehyung, his silver hair styled even more elegantly than normal while his dress robes look to have been perfectly tailored to his slim body. A white bow tie adorns his neck and he’s smiling at whatever Taehyung had told him. The Gryffindor Head has his usual boxy smile and you note that he scrubs up just as nicely. Together, they make a lethal pair in terms of looks.

“Now, now,” You muse lightly, looking over to Chaeyoung with mischief on your face. “We’re here to chaperone, not to swoon over good looking men like the teenagers we teach.”

A derisive snort is the only response she gives you, but you see that she’s not taken her eyes off the two younger men. Idly, you wonder which would make the perfect partner for her. You’d consider Taehyung to be a good candidate as their fun-loving natures would get on well, but there’s something about Jimin that makes you think he’d be an even better pick.

She wouldn’t even have to change her last name.

Any more thoughts you have on the subject vanish when the newest professor walks through the door. Black hair made darker from some kind of styling gel is swept up from his forehead, a strand or two falling stubbornly and giving him an almost charming appearance. Deep black robes sweep from his shoulders, covering up a suit that highlights his body in all the right ways.

Unlike Jimin and Taehyung, his outfit was completely black and you swallowed instinctively as you let your eyes run down his frame. Hoseok pauses at the doorway, pink lips moving as he talks to Nayeon, the divination professor. She looks pretty in a floaty dress of bubblegum pink and fizzing lilac, her smile genuine and eyes sparkling as she looks up at him.

Lips twisting, you turn away from the sight and don’t even notice the way Chaeyoung is watching you closely, her lips turning up in a smile she tries to hide. Looking away from you, she catches Seokjin’s questioning expression across the hall and nods at him subtly, enjoying the way the astronomy professor gets a determined look on his face.

“Speaking of men who are too beautiful to be real, Jung Hoseok always looks so good at these events. How is a man like that allowed to even exist?” There’s a breathy note to Chaeyoung’s voice, causing you to frown at her a little before looking back over in his direction. 

Nayeon is still standing there, a forlorn expression gracing her face as she watches Hoseok move away from her. It’s only then that you realise he’s walking towards you, causing your eyes to widen in surprise. Confusingly, you’re a little unsure of what to do or how to act.

Not when he’s looking like that. This is not the shy and awkward Hoseok with his dress robes too big for him, the only memory you have of him at the Winter Solstice Ball. He couldn’t be any further from that teenager and you don’t know how to handle that.

Especially when he gives you that breathtaking smile, his cheeks rising and dimpling while his dark eyes shine in delight. You should’ve known the Jung genes would result in him growing into an attractive man; his sister was one of the most beautiful people you’d ever seen.

“Y/N, Chaeyoung,” He bows his head to you both, that smile just as prominent and you nod back to him a little awkwardly. “You both look beautiful tonight. Winter is personified with your colours, it’s nice.” 

For a moment, you’re a little lost for words on how to respond to him. You couldn’t recall the last time you’d been so casually complimented, especially from a man. A man as attractive as him. It causes you to swallow wrong and you cough loudly, pressing a hand to your throat.

“Thanks, you’re looking pretty fine yourself tonight,” Chaeyoung teases him, causing that smile to become a little more bashful. “Anyway, I’m going to leave you two alone for a moment, okay? I need to go talk to Seokjin about something.”

You watch her go with wide eyes, noting with suspicion that she’s moving a little faster than you’d expect and you wonder if she’s up to something. But then you realise that you’re being left alone with Hoseok, who’s casually looking you up and down while you’re attention is elsewhere.

It’s only when he catches your eye when you look back, a brow raised, that he realises you’ve caught him. Hoseok turns his head quickly, probably giving himself whiplash and you have to hide the snort at the soft blush on his cheeks.

He may be all grown up now, but he still reminded you of that shy boy who never quite knew how to talk to you.

Reaching out, you poke at his chest and grin at him.

“She’s right, you are looking good tonight. Cleaned up very well.” Hoseok gives you a droll stare and you laugh, feeling any awkwardness rushing away as you both fall into the easy-going nature of your friendship.

The rest of the evening goes by in much the same manner with the two of you separating on occasion to handle issues with students or just to do a walk around. Apart from that though, you both end up spending more time with each other than with anyone else. Conversation flows easily like a fast-moving river and you find yourself laughing more than you have in a while.

You only have to break up one fight between two young boys; the culmination of weeks of tension between the two finally bubbling over. It starts with raised voices before escalating to blows, resulting in you escorting the two to Madame Pomfrey to check for any injuries. After that, you leave them in the hands of Park Jimin to discipline them given their house.

When you get back, you look around for Hoseok or Chaeyoung. You can’t see either of them, causing you to take up a place at the back against the wall to observe for any fallout from the fight. Thankfully, the mood seems to have picked up and you wonder if that’s got anything to do with the more upbeat music that’s being played.

It was never nice watching your students get into fights with each other or lose friendships, but you knew that was part of growing up. The thing about teenagers, and kids, was that they were incredibly resilient. You did not doubt that they would both be back to being friends within a week or so.

“All sorted?” Comes a deep voice to the right, the sound closer than you expected and causing you to jump slightly. Turning to look, you note that Hoseok has turned up out of nowhere and you relax at the sight of his familiar face.

“Yeah, no injuries to each other apart from wounded pride and friendships.” That causes Hoseok to snort and roll his eyes, leaning back against the wall alongside you. Suddenly, you recall how many times Jisoo complained of having to comfort her brother when he’d had yet another fight during his tenure at Hogwarts.

“I’m sure you know all about that, Mr Jung. I remember Jisoo having to deal with you. You were shy but a firecracker.” He sighs deeply and you lean into him, giggling as you regale him with some of the tales she’d told you. Thankfully, he takes it all with his usual good nature and you end up segueing into other memories of your time at Hogwarts.

The exams and the studying, the professors back then and your favourite subjects. It’s something he already knows as you’ve both discussed it previously, but he indulges you and listens amiably while keeping an eye out.

You’re stopped though when he suddenly interrupts you, straightening slightly.

“Would you like to dance? There’s not as many people out there now and you haven’t danced once tonight.” His question is abrupt, causing you to falter in your conversation. Narrowing your eyes, you look him over closely and wonder if he’s being serious. And you conclude that he is.

Looking over at the dance floor, you contemplate for a moment and chew your lip before nodding. Now it’s your turn to feel shy, avoiding his gaze and trying not to catch the eye of anyone else in the hall as he leads you carefully to the floor. 

There’s probably a few statues in the British Museum that are less stiff than you as you turn to him, feeling his hand as he settles it on your lower back. You’re hyper-aware of that hand; how hot it feels against you even with the fabric of the dress between you. But that pales in comparison to the feel of his hand against your own, the way he holds it almost tenderly.

Logically, you know that he’s doing that because that’s how you’re supposed to dance like this. A light touch, but it makes you feel a little strange. You’re not sure why it makes you feel like that and you find yourself staring at his long fingers, wondering if he kept up the piano he’d been taught when younger.

The music leads you both in the dance, each beat dictating where you move and you’re vaguely aware of the students dancing around you. None of them are staring or looking confused as there had been many professors who had danced together tonight. But you couldn’t help but feel like this dance was a little different.

This was the closest you’d ever been to Hoseok and his body is so close to your own that you can physically feel the heat coming from him. Every breath you take brings the smell of him into your nose, the familiar mix of rich wood and lemongrass that is so, undeniably Hoseok. And underlying all that is the smell that’s unique to him.

“Is this okay?” He asks quietly and you stare at the black button-up covering his chest, avoiding his gaze given how close the two of you are. It’s probably not the best thing to do when you realise that shirt is straining a little and you can see the outline of his torso from the light of the nearby candles.

Swallowing hard, you look over his shoulder and try to ignore the sudden knowledge that Hoseok is buff beneath his clothes. Which doesn’t help, because you find your eye trailing down his chest as you consider. It’s only when you reach his belt buckle that you suddenly look away, taking a deep breath and wondering what was wrong with you.

You’d had one too many butterbeers tonight or something, which was a terrible excuse as it had such little alcohol content that it didn’t even matter. This was Jisoo’s brother, her little brother. Not someone you should be thinking about half-naked.

Right?

Finally, though, you register his question and nod quickly in response. You’re not sure that you can talk to him without saying something inappropriate as your brain isn’t working very well right now. Not when you’re so confused about...well everything.

“Are you sure? You’ve gone a little weird. Quiet.” Hoseok murmurs, his voice low to avoid any of the students overhearing it. Sighing, you stand a little straighter before looking at him directly and giving him a firm smile. It takes a little more effort than you’d like to push away those errant thoughts but you do so.

“Fine, just worried about those students. I hate seeing their friendship ruined and them angry at each other, you know?” It’s not a lie as you are still concerned about them, but he doesn’t need to know everything going on in your head. Which is why you’re thankful when he nods slowly before spinning you around.

“They’ll be okay. I’ve been doing this job long enough to know that they’ll be back to being friends sooner rather than later. They’ve already got some of that testosterone out by punching each other, which I’d rather they didn’t do but Jimin will talk it out with them. Don’t worry too much, they’ll be fine.” It’s sweet how considerate he’s being and you can hear how genuine he is in his voice. 

You don’t get to say anything else though as the tempo increases when the song switches over, causing Hoseok to twirl you away from him with a laugh. All around you the dances start to get a little more energetic and you can’t help but shriek with joy as he matches the student’s enthusiasm, listening to them as they cheer at two of their professors getting involved in the frivolities.

Neither of you notices the way Seokjin and Chaeyoung watch you both closely before smirking at each other.

-

Glancing around the room, you note how most of the students had already left and gone to bed for the night. The clock had struck midnight a while ago and you had to press a hand to your mouth as you yawned, turning your head away to be polite. A few remaining students were still dancing on the floor but even as you watched, some of them started to walk towards the exit.

Looking over at Chaeyoung, you caught her eye with a wave and smiled with relief when she nodded and made a shooing gesture. Turning to Hoseok, you tried to hide another yawn and almost giggled when you saw that he’d caught one from you, his mouth wide as he didn’t even try to hide it.

“I think we can go now. Chaeyoung gestured that we can leave so I think they’re going to hustle the last students to bed. Something which I’m also very excited to do because I feel like I’ve been awake for two days right now.” Blinking and almost trying to stretch your eyelids by widening them as far as you could, you almost missed the way Hoseok laughed at your antics.

“Tired? It’s not even two in the morning, I expected better of you.” He teases, gently pushing his elbow into your arm before avoiding your hand as you try to swat him. You’d admit that he looked a lot more awake than you did, which you’d say wasn’t fair but you don’t think you’ve ever truly seen him look tired.

“Well, you’re still young and spry. You’ll learn when you get to my age.” Moving off towards the doors of the Great Hall, you grab a tiny triangular sandwich from one of the remaining platters on a table as you pass by.

Light pressure on the small of your back causes you to arch slightly, your chest moving forward and you tilt your head to look at your companion. There’s no expression on Hoseok’s face, nothing to indicate he’s affected by touching you and you frown slightly as you wonder why it’s affecting you.

“You’re not old, I don’t know why you keep thinking that.” He murmurs, voice deep and quiet.

Neither of you says anything more for a few minutes, instead just walking quietly through the hallways. It’s a comfortable silence and you muse for a moment on how much you’ve come to enjoy spending time with him. You would happily say that he was your closest friend here at Hogwarts; something you would’ve never thought would happen when you were studying here and he was just your best friend’s little brother.

That makes you think of how defensive he always gets whenever you, or anyone else, seems to imply that you’re old. Huffing out a laugh, you bite your lip as you contemplate that for a second. Maybe he doesn’t like the implication that you, and by extension, his sister, are considered ‘older’ by the students. Or that he’s also approaching thirty.

The student’s opinions have never bothered you as they think anyone over the age of twenty is old. Nor have you been concerned overall, given the extended lifespan that witches had compared to muggles. You were finally feeling content with your career and your life, something you attested partly to growing older and becoming more at ease with yourself.

But he always got so defensive of it, so maybe he was concerned about himself.

“You don’t have to keep defending my age, you know,” Apparently you were going to query this with him and you blamed the butterbeer for loosening up your tongue. “I’m okay with it, honestly. Which means I’m okay with joking about it.”

Hoseok stiffened slightly and you spotted his expression looking a little uneasy. Frowning, you placed a hand on his arm and pulled him to a stop. Your quarters were only a few corridors away now and the two of you were given a warm glow from the candles lit nearby. 

“I’m not defending...I mean, okay maybe I am. I just...I don’t want you to feel like it’s an issue.” Now you’re giving him an amused look, lip quirked up on one side as you try to hold in a small giggle.

“It’s not an issue. Have I made it seem like it was?” Tilting your head, you watch as his eyes dart across your face in an almost shy manner.

“No...well, not in the way you might think,” He looks uncomfortable and you’re about to tell him it’s okay, that he doesn’t have to continue but he does so before you get the chance to speak. “I’m just made every aware of our age difference. You know, the whole ‘you’re her best friend’s little brother’ thing.”

“Hey, I don’t do that, do I?” Now you’re a little concerned.

“No, not really. Not for a while anyway. You did when you first got here but I understood that. We hadn’t met in a while and everyone was curious about how we knew each other. But now...I don’t even know what I’m talking about. Honestly, it’s not important. You’re right.” Hoseok’s babbling a bit but you decide to let him change the conversation. You’re not entirely sure why it truly bothers him, but you’re not going to press it anyway. He deserves to have his feelings and they don’t need to be analysed.

“Okay-” Before you can say anything else, you hear the quiet chiming of bells and frown in confusion. The sound echoes a little in the empty corridor, simultaneously creepy and also ethereal. 

Hoseok looks around as well, his brow knitted in confusion before he suddenly spots something about you both. Following him, you note the odd plant that’s grown from the ceiling out of nowhere. The green branches are still growing and you note with interest the small white berries that seem to be forming and familiar leaf shapes appear at the end of each branch.

A red ribbon is delicately wrapped around the stems and you see the little golden bells that let out tiny chimes as they rock from side to side in a non-existent breeze. Now you’re the one frowning as you look around you both, trying to spot who’d set a mistletoe charm to grow when someone walked beneath it.

“Mistletoe?” Hosek whispers, reaching up with one hand in an attempt to touch it. He can’t reach it and you sigh, shaking your head and crossing your arms over your chest.

“Someone has thought it’d be funny to put mistletoe charms around the castle for the ball. Certainly adds to the Christmas spirit. I’ve seen these popping up all night above couples on the dance floor. I think it’s a seasonal Weasley thing, seems like something they’d sell to annoy people.”

The mistletoe is suddenly snowing, letting tiny snowflakes drift to the ground around you both and leaving fluffy snow to settle on Hoseok’s hair and dress robes. How very romantic, you muse to yourself.

“Does it just disappear on its own after a while?” He asks, running his fingers through his hair to try and get rid of some of the snow. Smiling at him, you gently brush at his shoulders only to decide it’s a losing battle as more snow lands.

“Nope. You gotta kiss, that’s the whole point of mistletoe, right? Otherwise, it follows you around.” Hoseok sighs deeply and rolls his eyes.

“Of course it does. Definitely a Weasley thing.”

Looking back up at the mistletoe, and having to blink to avoid getting snowflakes in your eyes, you purse your lips before looking back at Hoseok. You’d long since come to terms with the fact that you find him attractive; anyone with eyes can see that. But you hadn’t planned on doing anything about it, not given who he was and who his sister was to you.

His words from earlier play through your mind though, and you wonder if he hates having to constantly know he’s given the best friend’s little brother status. Even now, months after you’d arrived and you considered him a friend, you knew that there were still people who thought of that as the most defining characteristic of your friendship.

Letting out a little sigh, you straighten your shoulders before reaching out and taking hold of his dress robes. Fuck it, you’re not one to waste a perfect chance.

Pulling him closer, you watch as his eyes dart to yours and widen when he realises that you’re moving towards him as well. And then those same eyes flick to your lips, the movement so fast that you’d almost miss it if it wasn’t for the fact that he did again only seconds later. 

Combined with the zero resistance he was giving, you came to the solid conclusion that he wasn’t going to reject you. Not when you were giving him plenty of time and reason to back out if he wanted to.

Tilting your head to him, you felt his warm breath as it caressed your face, the smell of butterbeer strong. And then your lips are pressed together, neither of you sure who made the final move and neither of you gives a damn at that exact moment. 

The pressure of your lips against each other is gentle at first, almost hesitant as both of you try to figure out where to go from here. All that was required was a kiss, which was what you were both doing right now. But you didn’t quite want to let him go just yet, not when you knew he probably had so much more to offer.

Shifting, you manoeuvred your way into a position that made the kiss a little more personal and no longer like two teenagers who’d never kissed in their life. Letting go of his robes, your arms move to wrap around his neck and you run your fingers through his hair, enjoying how soft the black strands feel against your fingers.

A quiet noise leaves Hoseok, his arms sliding around your waist to pull you a little closer to him while he kisses you more forcefully than before. It feels...you can’t even find the words to describe how it feels, only knowing that you’re not entirely sure you want him to stop.

Any hesitation has disappeared between you both and you simply lose yourself to the delightful feeling of Jung Hoseok against your lips, against your body and how he feels under your fingertips. It’s only when he moves a little further, his tongue asking for entrance to fire up the kiss even more, that you suddenly come to your senses.

Pushing back from him, you stare with wide eyes and only just realise that the bells have stopped. A glance up shows the mistletoe is gone and you breathe a little heavily, not realising that you’d kissed him that forcefully until now. Hoseok looks just as out of breath with an odd look in his eyes that you can’t quite figure out.

Licking at your lips, and trying to ignore the knowledge that you could probably taste him right now, you run your hands down the front of your dress robes before giving him a slightly awkward smile. Coughing, you turn your eyes away from the strangely intense gaze he’s giving you.

“Erm, well it’s gone now. So...we’re not gonna be followed by mistletoe anymore,” Playing with your fingers, you wonder if you made a very bad decision tonight. “I, erm, I’m gonna go to bed now. It’s late and...well...yeah. Thank you, for walking me here and spending time with me, you know, dancing and all that. It was nice, I had a good time and thank you. Yeah, I already thanked you. Err...get to bed safely, okay? I mean, I…” 

Hoseok reaches out and takes hold of your nervous hands. It makes you jump nervously, but he just gives a reassuring smile while rubbing the back of your hands with his thumbs.

“Y/N...it’s okay. I’ll see you tomorrow. Go to sleep and have good dreams.” There’s no annoyance in his voice, no anger or outrage that you’ve gone from initiating that kiss to acting very strange in only seconds. 

“Yeah...I...you too. You too.” Frowning as you walked away from him, you wondered what in Merlin’s beard you’d just done.

[darter-blue]

Wrote a cheeky little prequel to this ask: breakfast (accidental husbands) and I really like it... so here you go *throws 1k of stucky fluff at you*

Read on ao3 here 🥂

So okay - Steve maybe isn’t hating this as much as he thought he would.

Which doesn’t mean he should've let Thor slip that Asgardian liquor into his scotch.

Also doesn’t mean he won't bitch about this to Tony for at least another three weeks. Partly because Tony threw them under the bus sending them to this “tiny PR thing” that turned out to be a nightmare of people and noise and cameras. 

Partly because it's always fun to bitch at Tony. And then pretend he doesn’t understand the insults Tony tries to throw back at him.

But it’s Vegas - and Steve has actually never really been here before. And the hotel is amazing and full of lights and colours and happy people, and it’s nice.

It’s nice to not be fighting. 

It’s nice to blend into the noise and anonymity of the big crowds, too intent on the distractions around them.

Thor has abandoned him, spiked his drink and ran basically. A call from Jane or something- Steve forget to listen to be honest. 

He’s been watching the people around him, laughing and dancing and free from troubles, even if just for one night. And, well he doesn’t want to seem like he’s staring, but there’s one person in particular who keeps catching his eye. Who Steve’s eyes can’t help but search for over and over again.

Eyes that Steve can tell, even in the low light and overwhelming throng of bodies and movement, are a beautiful stormy blue. Maybe thanks to the serum enhanced vision. Potentially just the luminescence of their particularly brilliant colour.

Probably, definitely, the fact that they belong to such a beautiful face. To a man whose smile is contagious, whose laugh is like a balm to Steve’s battered soul. Who is walking towards Steve right this moment.

Walking, oh god, right up to him. And talking.

To Steve.

‘Hey,’ his lips say, Steve’s eyes have dropped to them as they move, as his pink tongue darts out to wet them, ‘you… ah… wanna dance?’

Steve’s eyes snap up and away from the man’s pretty pink lips to catch his eyes. Eye’s that are watching Steve from under thick dark lashes, and blinking nervously.

‘Dance?’ Steve asks, not sure that could possibly be what the man is asking. People don’t ask Steve to dance.

People ask for autographs. Or selfies. Or to hold the shield (which he does not have on him right now, thank god).

They don’t ever ask him to dance.

‘I mean, no pressure… I just… you look like…’ The man searches Steve’s face, cataloguing his reactions, perhaps finding reluctance there. ‘I didn’t mean to bother you.’

‘No,’ Steve is quick to say, ‘No, no, you’re not bothering me.’

To which the man smiles. And it lights up his entire face, somehow making it even more gorgeous. ‘I’m not?’

‘No not at all! I would,’ Steve has to swallow down his nerves, ‘I would love to dance.’

‘Yeah?’ the man asks. And his eyes shine as if the very idea of Steve wanting to dance with him is a cause for celebration.

‘Definitely.’

Steve throws back the rest of the spiked scotch in his glass, discreetly blanching at the feel of the hot asgardian liquor burning down his throat (is this a stronger batch than last time? It feels strangely like liquid fire in his belly).

‘I’m Bucky by the way,’ the man says, holding out his hand to Steve.

‘Steve. Steve Rogers,’ Steve says, waiting for the inevitable wide eyed reaction.

It never comes.

Instead the man, Bucky, smiles even wider, chuckles a little, keeps his eyes on Steve’s. ‘Well, Steve-Steve Rogers, it’s nice to meet you.’

And Steve’s hand makes its way into Bucky’s of its own accord. Shakes it carefully, aware that  the liquor is making him feel light, slightly floaty, and that he should tread softly. ‘Bucky?’ Steve asks, instead of voicing any number of the inappropriate thoughts that are running through his head at the touch of Bucky’s smooth skin in his hands, at the surprising strength in his long, delicate fingers.

‘It’s James, actually,’ Bucky says with another chuckle, ‘but my friends call me Bucky.’

‘Well I guess  - lead on Bucky,’ Steve says with a smile of his own. He can’t seem to help it actually. His body seems to be reacting to Bucky quite of its own volition. 

And Bucky does. He keeps hold of Steve's hand and pulls him gently towards the dancefloor packed tight with hot, sweaty bodies. But Steve’s senses have condensed to focus only on Bucky. The texture of the small calluses on his fingers, the softness of the skin of his palms, the scent of the coconut in his hair, the heat rolling off him as he closes in on Steve. Turns his body around and presses up into Steve, leans his back into Steve’s chest, looks up over his shoulder at him.

‘Is this okay?’ Bucky asks.

Steve can only nod. He seems to have lost the use of his brain right now. 

His body is doing just fine on its own though, so he doesn’t worry about it too much. He lets his hips roll with Bucky’s hips as he sways to the too fast, too deep beat of the music, Bucky somehow finding a rhythm behind the beat and drawing Steve into it with him.

Steve’s arms slide their way around Bucky’s waist, his hands spreading across the expanse of his soft stomach under his light, threadbare t-shirt. He’s lean, but there is no hardness to his frame, Steve can feel the muscles in Bucky’s shoulders, in his biceps, but they’re subtle. The result of a job that keeps him fit, strong, but nothing like the kind of definition Steve sees day in and day out at his own job - if you can call it that.

Bucky is nothing like anyone Steve knows in this time.  

It makes him hold him just that little bit tighter. And when Bucky responds by resting his head back against Steve’s shoulder, Steve’s supersoldier heart skips a beat. 

It’s… it feels perfect.

Steve nuzzles into the warmth and softness of the skin at the nape of Bucky’s neck. Buries his nose into the waves of thick dark chestnut hair that fall almost to his shoulders there.

‘It’s funny isn’t it?’ Bucky asks, turning his face up to Steve, jostling him and bringing their lips dangerously close together.

‘Hmm?’ Steve humms, too lost in the nearness of Bucky’s breath, the way his eyes have closed and his smile has loosened into something comfortable, something safe. Lost in the way he feels so at home like this, wrapped around him.

‘How there are some people you meet and it just feels like you know them.’

Steve’s movements slow at that, his hips falter, and Bucky’s eyes flutter open at the loss of their rhythm. 

‘Do you feel that sometimes?’ he asks, his eyes surprisingly bright and clear in the haze of the room around them.

‘Feel it how?’ Steve asks. He’s thrown by the openness in Bucky’s expression. 

‘Like,’ Bucky’s eyebrows draw in as he searches for words, ‘like you just… always knew them. They feel so comfortable, so… familiar.’ Bucky lets his own hands slide down and rest over Steve’s, linking their fingers together almost absently, ‘Like you were meant to spend your whole lives together, you just haven’t met them until now…’

Steve looks down into Bucky’s face, he’s frowning and biting his lip, looking back up at Steve as if his own answer is not enough.

‘I’m not sure how to explain it,’ he says, and lets his head fall back against Steve’s shoulder.

But Steve understands. It makes perfect sense, if Bucky is feeling what Steve is feeling. Like the two of them pressed together as they are, here in the middle of all these people, all the lights and noise and chaos, have found a pocket of something like home. A safety. A comfort.

And Steve squeezes a little bit tighter, nuzzles in a little bit closer. ‘I know what you mean,’ he says, breathing the words quietly into Bucky’s ear, closing his eyes at the contented sigh Bucky lets out. ‘It feels like that for me too.’

As Bucky’s heart beats in time with Steve’s, as they dance together, fingers laced and foreheads touching, Steve is sure that he never wants to let go of this.

He just isn’t sure how to make that possible. 

(look out for the next installment soon)

[angry-geese]

Blood Ties - Chapter Eleven: The Shibuya Incident V

soulmate au Choso x Reader

Warnings: mentions of violence, blood and injury. some swearing. canon typical violence.

synopsis: your reunion with your brother is not quite what you expected it to be. the mess in shibuya is still far from solved, and reuniting with yuji and the others has become a priority. in the meantime, you've found yourself in the company of an unlikely ally

Word Count: 2.9k

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You don't remember the big events. It's the mundane things that stick in your mind.

The first time you open your eyes, you shut them almost immediately. Rain pounds softly on the roof, and against the window. Your blanket is too warm. Your head feels unnaturally heavy, yet your limbs feel the opposite. They’re light, and floaty. You want nothing more than to fall back asleep.

In the background, the TV quietly plays the news, the channel your mom would watch before she left for work. You recognize the room—your room—the one in your childhood home. Something is off about it. The furniture moves and takes the shape of that in your apartment, and even your dorm room in Jujutsu Tech. When you try to look too close it disappears entirely.

You find yourself wondering why she isn't coming in and waking you up for school. Maybe you’re sick. Early morning light streams in through the open windows. You forgot to shut the blinds.

It's so bright out. Wasn't it raining?

The mattress dips under his weight as he sits. James. His face shifts to that of Nanami's when you try to look closer. So you don't. He has a bowl of something in his hands. Steam curls off the top of it. It looks like soup, but that's when the memory stops. Like a tape that’s finished playing, it fades out, leaving you in the dark.

There’s nothing for you on the other side. There’s no reincarnation, or afterlife. No heaven or hell. There’s no restful sleep, or even someone to tell the reason behind all this. Nothing. There's no reason why things are the way they are. There's no order to the universe. This is the only point in time we will ever exist. We are what we are at this moment.

You're not sure what wakes you up, but it doesn't happen all at once. It's a gradual process. Like trying to drag your limbs through hardening cement. You're thirsty, and starving. You've never been so hungry in your life. More importantly, you hurt. Everywhere. It's a sharp, burning pain that beats in time with your heart.

If you were really dead, you wouldn't be hurting. And it hurts. You want to scream, and break down sobbing, and plead with whatever higher power that’ll listen to make it stop. But you’re too exhausted to bother doing so.

The second time you open your eyes, you freeze. This was not the place you fell asleep in.

The world comes into view all at once. You're laying on your back on the pavement. The ceiling spins.

There has to be more to this. This can't be it. There has to be a higher power or a reason for why things are the way they are.

But there's no overarching story. You’re never going to get any answers. Things just are.

You roll over and vomit all over Choso's shoes.

You've been stripped of your hoodie and uniform jacket, revealing the plain shirt you wear underneath. The left sleeve has been torn off. The front is stained with blood. Your injured arm, along with your smaller wounds, have been bandaged. The smell of antiseptic hangs in the air. Your discarded jacket has been balled up and used to prop your head up.

You're not certain how long you were out. Since your clothes have had time to dry, it must have been a while.

Choso sits to your right, leaning against the doorway, his knees pulled to his chest. He's trembling. You don't think his eyes could get any wider.

The wound in your shoulder makes laying on your back uncomfortable. You roll onto your side. You're facing him. The delicate string connects your hand and his, looping around, forming a heart where it drapes on the ground.

To your left is James, a bag hooked under his arm. A red box is visible within. A first-aid kit. Stolen, if you had to take a guess. It's certainly not better than going to the hospital, but it might be enough to get you out of here. He's no doctor, and you wouldn't trust the guy to take care of a houseplant let alone an entire human being, but it's enough.

James holds something to your lips—a bottle—telling you to drink. At first you refuse. But between your thirst, and the feeling of something cold spilling over your tongue, you can't stop yourself. You drink greedily until the sharp taste fills your mouth, sending you into a coughing fit.

You’re certainly awake now. The shock it gave to your system would be enough to wake the dead.

“Is that fucking vodka?!” You ask.

He does a double take before saying a weak: “Yep. My bad.”

James pulls another water bottle from his bag. Despite it being sealed, you still check it to make sure it's not more alcohol.

“You should eat,” he says, pressing something into your hands. Two containers of applesauce, “get your strength up. We’ll have to move soon.”

The water you’re able to down in two swigs. It helps a bit. You want to ask for more, but you decide against it. You can't bring yourself to eat very much. You’re too nauseous to keep anything down, and you don't want to throw up again. You eat the first, using the lid to scoop up the sweet substance, but you can only stomach half of it. The extra goes into your pocket.

James looks uninjured. He must have avoided all the mutated humans- or any curses. That's somewhat relieving. He’s not the type to go out with the intent of picking a fight.

Choso’s eyes never leave the wound on your shoulder.

He didn't know. You did. If anyone is to blame here, it’s you.

This isn't exactly what you imagined when you’d stay up pulling on the string of fate. He wasn't supposed to be on the other end. It wasn't supposed to end like this. Both of you had plenty of time to stop. Maybe if you had said something-

But it's a big maybe. It's not what happened. There's no going back and changing what happened. You've got to move on. There's not enough time to have regrets.

The best time to do it was an hour ago. The next best time to do it is now.

"Truce?" You ask, holding out your hand. "You bothered sticking around after he fixed me up, so I take that to mean you're going to stop trying to kill me. Why go through the effort if you wanted me dead? So I'll ask this again; truce?"

“I didn't- I didn't know-” A noise resembling a sob escapes him. His eyes refuse to meet yours. Part of you wants to comfort him, but part of you is cautious. Less than an hour ago, you two were trying to kill each other.

"We have a truce, remember?" You say. "We don't have to kill each other anymore."

He nods. He takes your hand, but instead of shaking it, he holds it there. His hands are cold. Yours aren't much better. Your fingers feel numb. You tuck your free hand against your stomach to help warm it up.

"Where are we?" You ask.

"Floor B3. Shibuya Station." Choso says.

"What time is it?"

"Almost 11:30."

You roll onto your back. The action is uncomfortable, but so is laying on your side. It seems no matter what position you're in, some injury of yours is going to prevent you from rest. Your body still struggles against the last of Choso’s blood, which should work it's way out of your system soon.

You sit up. Moving around helps with the ache that’s set into your limbs. You doubt you're going to find any painkillers laying around, so you'll have to grit your teeth and bare it. Finding something to distract yourself with will help.

Your first goal should be leaving Shibuya alive. Your second should be reuniting with the others. The curtain is down, Gojo is captured, you have no clue where you are or how you’re supposed to get to the others.

“You should rest,” Choso says, “you’re hurt.”

“And who’s fault is that?” You say, discarding your bloodied shirt, pulling on your hoodie. He averts his eyes. You stop, telling him it's okay, and that you’re not mad at him.

Too soon. Got it.

“He has a point.” James says. “You’re no use in a fight like this.”

“Oh no, you don't get a say in this,” you say, “might I remind you that this could have been avoided if you told him? What the hell were you even doing? Why work with Geto?”

You suppose you know why- at least why Geto wanted to trap Gojo. Throw the whole world off balance, let curses take over, throw humanity into a new age. General bad guy stuff. You’re not sure what drove him to this point, but it's not something you plan to give much thought. He’s human. Or at one point he was. Whether he still is or not is up for debate.

“Geto sought me out due to the nature of my cursed technique.” He says. “At the time he was searching for more of Sukuna’s fingers. Because of my Matchmaker, he thought I’d be of use. I agreed to help because I needed the money, and it sounded like easy work. Get in, confirm it's there, get out,

“But sometimes I think he just wanted me to keep an eye on Gojo.”

“Why?” You cringe at the question. You basically know the answer. He must have had this planned for a while.

“Did you know Satoru Gojo had a soulmate?” He asks.

You shrug. You don't see how this relates to anything.

“I found your phone,” you pull it from your pocket, holding it out to him.

He takes it, frowning once he realizes the battery is dead. Good luck finding a place to charge it here. He stuffs it in his pocket.

“So you were just gonna hand it over to him?” You say. “Let him feed it to Yuji? Set Sukuna loose?”

“I don't care what he does with them.” He says.

“That's not okay!” You scold. “This affects all of us! You’re a sorcerer too!”

“Do you think I’m just some passive bystander to fate?” He asks. “If I say a house is going to burn down, I’m not going to wait for the chimney to catch, I’m going to stand outside with a lit molotov. This was all inevitable! All you’re doing is delaying something that’s been planned out long before you. There is no stopping this!”

“That's… not gonna address that. You- we're making this right. We can still fix this.” You say. “You’re included in this too, Choso.”

“What in this world is worth saving so much to you?” James asks. The sudden anger in his voice catches you off guard.

“YOU!” You’re yelling now. “Asshole!

"And Nanamin, and Yuji, and the other students at Jujutsu High, and every innocent person who had no part being here,

“Things are royally fucked! And they're fucked because of us! And it's not like we can expect anyone else to fix it!

“I don't care if you don't believe in the same things as me. I’m not an idiot, I know we’re not on the same side of this,

“But if you’re not fighting for them, then will you at least fight for me?”

He's silent. The reflection of his glasses hides his eyes. You didn't expect this to be so difficult. You can't even say this isn't like him. All the things he's done—he’s said—are things he would do. They’re things you’d see yourself doing. The world of Jujutsu isn't exactly built for people like you and him. You’ve been thrown into a world not made for you, and expected to perform the same and those it's made for.

Everyone around you was born with the will to fight. They were naturally gifted with it. Gifted with power that has let them survive this far. You never were. Yet you fight. You don't know why you do. But you keep doing such, so there must be something in it for you, even if you don't know it yet.

“Please?” You say. Your voice is weak. “I'm not going to force you to come, but you're either with me, or you're not. So which is it?”

“I don't think your friends will exactly be happy to see me.” James says.

“They’ll get over it.” You say, turning to Choso. “What about you?”

"But… we hardly know each other! And I-"

“Tried to kill me? I'm aware.” You say. “But I’m still here. And we have a truce, remember?”

The only way you're getting out of this alive is if you work together.

"It's settled then," says James, "lead the way."

…

Your plan might have worked had anyone bothered to tell you where Yuji went. He's gone. That's all you know. What happened between the time you passed out, to when you woke up is lost to you.

You'll just have to settle for going outside. You're certain once you're above ground you'll get your bearings.

The elevator isn't working. The power is out on this floor. A handful of lights work, but you have to rely on your phone to light the way. Your battery is close to dead. Cell service is out, so you don't mind wasting it. Who would you call, anyway? Stairs are your only option to get above ground. Lucky for you, the place is empty.

That is odd, though. You know the curtain has been taken care of. What's blocking reception?

You'll have to worry about it later.

Coincidences happen. It's not like your phone isn't old and a piece of shit. Maybe you forgot to pay your phone bill. Maybe it got too wet.

The hairs on the back of your neck stand. You’re almost certain you aren't being watched, but there's an uneasy feeling you can't shake.

You don't think you like the dark anymore. Before it never bothered you. Even as a kid, it was never a problem. There weren't any monsters hiding in the dark. Not back then anyway. You didn't make your parents check your closet or under your bed for monsters. You were so convinced there never were any.

“You’re lost, aren't you?” James asks. You get the impression it's more to mock you than it is a genuine question.

“You're not helping!” You say.

Choso, for the first time since you've left, speaks up:

"I can show you how to get out."

Do you trust this guy?

Do you have a choice?

James seems to consider it for a moment. He doesn't get a say in this. Whether or not you want to trust him is up to you. You doubt he’ll intentionally mislead you. What kind of cruel person would try to put their soulmate in harm's way?

You.

You knew what he was and you still fought him. You let Yuji get hurt. You got yourself in this mess.

"Fine." You say. "Once we're outside we'll have an easier time reuniting with the others. It's a goddamn maze down here."

You're not being very nice to him. To either of them, but James kinda has it coming. Siblings are going to fight. In a couple hours, or even a day, you’ll stop being angry at him.

Choso takes the lead.

It only takes him a few minutes to find the way out. He's able to decipher all the signs that only make you more confused.

The power is on in this section, but many of the lights are broken. The sliding doors open automatically. It's brighter outside than you remember.

When you look up, there's twice as many stars in the sky as usual.

You're not quite sure what makes you stop. There's nothing. It's the total lack of anything that makes your blood freeze in your veins. It's just pavement. A salt flat. There's nothing.

Where are the buildings? The trees? Cars? Streetlights? Anything?!

It's hard to call it Shibuya anymore. It's just land.

James lets out a soft “huh”

You swallow hard. Your mouth fills with the metallic taste of blood. You've bitten your cheek. Blood fills your mouth. Your tongue prods at the jagged flesh of your cheek.

"I have to find Yuji," Choso says, "I have to find my little brother."

Jesus, how many brothers does this guy have? Even James appears to do a double take.

"I- I have to find Yuji." He says. "I need to know."

“Know what?” You ask.

“When I-” his voice catches in his throat. “I had a vision. Yuji was there- with my brothers. And when his heart stopped, I could sense it. Normally I’d think nothing of it, but my cursed technique only allows me to sense such things with those I share blood with.”

“So Yuji’s your little brother,” you say. You get the feeling not even Yuji knows this.

Choso would be a powerful ally. You're going after Yuji too; it only makes sense to team up with him. Whether or not the others will be happy about this is a problem you’ll have to face when you get to it.

“Fine,” you say, holding your hand out to him, “you helped me find my brother, I’ll help you find yours.”