#yes it's shell cottage

[that-foul-legacy-lover]

BRAINROT

I LOVE YOUR MELUSINE AU SM

I wanna imagine that Neuvillette is also aware, and hoards y/n there so he and Ajax are the only two who know, though Ajax doesn’t know Neuvillette knows

Ough I need to redraw my melusona

RETURN OF THE MELUSINE AU!!!!!!!!

every once in a while- aka every week- you vanish for one day. always the same day, too- always on Sunday, from dawn until dusk. Foul Legacy absolutely PANICS at first, checking every nook and cranny of Merusea Village with desperate cries and chirps. a few other Melusine even join him in a tizzy, looking for their missing sibling, when suddenly you walk into the caverns as if nothing happened at all, perfectly whole and healthy. Legacy chitters, frantically fussing over you, but you merely hug his leg with a lovely smile, bloopy antennae twitching as you stare up with innocent eyes. his panic fades, replaced by exasperation, and Legacy lifts you into his arms with an admonishing trill. a couple Melusine trail behind him as he carries you to the little shell cottage you reside in, huffing and checking your skin, making sure no other shimmering markings have joined your vast collection- beautiful scars, yes, but scars mean wounds. there's nothing new, and Legacy finally relents and bumps his head protectively against yours

the same thing happens again the next week. and the next, and the next

slowly, Legacy and your siblings grow used to it. the disappearances almost become part of your schedule, like painting with Mamere every Tuesday or late afternoon tea. you never emerge worse for wear, quite the opposite, and after the first incident you leave little notes for Foul Legacy in the morning to tell him you're okay. the other Melusine shrug and keep him company those days, climbing over him like a tree and giggling in delight. none of them know you're with the Iudex himself, helping him arrange flowers in a vase in his office. Neuvillette watches you quietly, his eyes tracing over those familiar shining scars, the ones that tore you apart in the first place. there's a trace of Abyssal magic on you, but also the care and protection of every other Melusine in Fontaine, and the Hydro Sovereign smiles just a bit when you tie a bow around the vase and look up at him happily

[romione-trope-fest]

Red Rings

Fic Title: Red Rings

Author Name: @honouraryweasley12

Selected Trope: Soulmates

Brief Summary: While recovering at Shell Cottage, Hermione discovers something that will change her relationship with Ron forever.

Word Count: 4831

Rating: T

Any Trigger Warnings: Mentions of torture

~~~

Her eyes opened slowly, as had been the case for the past week as they rested and recovered from their ordeal at Malfoy Manor. She could hear the seagulls in the distance, the faint sea-salted air wafting in through the barely cracked window. Hermione blinked a few times, waking up from her slumber and feeling strangely refreshed.

It was the first time she’d woken up without a pounding headache, which seemed to indicate progress. She was starting to feel like herself, after the torture she’d been subjected to. Her visible wounds had healed, the cuts from the blade and the glass from the chandelier criss-crossing her neck and skin with small scars. The tremors of pain and the muscle aches remained but had lessened in intensity.

Another sound got her attention, a soft wheezing of low snores. Noting that Luna’s bed was empty—her temporary roommate starting each day early so that she could ‘bask in the glow of the rising sun’—Hermione peered over the edge of the small bed and couldn’t help but smile. Ron was curled up on the floor in a tangle of blankets, his ginger hair sticking up haphazardly as he clutched his pillow.

After a long day of planning left her feeling weak, he’d insisted on staying the night, in case she needed anything. He’d been so sweet to her since he’d saved her from a certain grisly death at the hands of Greyback. His gentle care for her, and his patience during her recovery served to push away any lingering hurt around his abandonment.

As if on its own volition, her arm reached down and she gently brushed her fingers across his pale, freckled cheek. The same spot where Bellatrix had struck him, but that mark had mostly faded away, thankfully. The same spot where she’d once kissed him before a Quidditch match.

His nose twitched, and she had to stifle a giggle. Her eyes were suddenly drawn to a small line of red around her wrist. She frowned, as she hadn’t noticed it before. It looked like someone had circled her skin with a red pen.

Perhaps the ropes the Snatchers used had burned her skin, the injury just blending in with all her other scrapes and bruises from that horrid night. She shrugged it off as she watched his almost blonde eyelashes blink for a second, before she was met with the brilliant blue of his eyes.

“Morning, sleepyhead.”

Ron yawned and smiled at her. “You seem like you’re feeling better.” His hand reached up and caught hers, holding it against his cheek.

“I am, no headache this morning.”

His eyebrows raised. “Seriously, that’s great news. That means you’re getting better.”

Hermione nodded. “Thank you for staying last night.”

His thumb brushed the back of her hand, sending shivers through her whole body. “Of course, anything for you.”

The tips of his ears blazed red, but he didn’t look away. She knew he meant it. She could get lost in those eyes.

Ron broke them out of the spell. “Shall we go down for breakfast?”

“Yes, I’m famished.”

“Your appetite is returning, that’s another good sign.”

It was comforting and natural, so Hermione continued to hold his hand all the way down to breakfast. She snuck a quick look down and noticed that he had the same red mark around his wrist. Odd, but it did support her theory that it was the bonds they’d struggled against when they were captured.

They sat down at the crowded table and greeted the rest of the houseguests. Hermione tried to help Fleur, but the French woman instructed her to relax. She took a seat next to Ron, facing Harry.

“How are you feeling, Hermione?”

“Much better, thanks Harry.”

“Did you sleep?”

“Yes, I slept well.”

Harry turned to Ron. “What about you, did you sleep?”

Ron looked away and nodded slightly. Harry gave him a pointed look, and Ron returned it, his eyes wide. Harry looked at her again and then back to Ron, before shaking his head. She wasn’t sure what that exchange was about, but she was going to find out. It felt like they were hiding something from her.

It was a quiet breakfast between Bill, Fleur, Dean, Harry, Ron, and herself. Luna had eaten early and was down at the beach, while Griphook and Mr. Ollivander preferred to stay in their rooms. Hermione tried a few times to spy on Dean’s and Harry’s wrists; there was something strange about that scratch mark that was bothering her.

Ron leaned over halfway through the meal, his voice tickling her ear. “Everything alright?”

Hermione nodded, feeling silly. “Yes, just checking something.”

As Harry held up a bowl for Fleur to fill up with extra croissants, Hermione had a perfect vantage point, and Harry had no such mark. He must have used dittany to get rid of it already. As they finished and began clearing the table, Dean yawned and stretched. His wrists were also clear of any blemishes.

Harry pulled them both aside after they’d all pitched in to clean up the kitchen. He whispered to them in a low voice, his eyes darting about for anyone listening. “Let’s take a break from planning today. We made a lot of progress yesterday, and I know you were quite tired after, Hermione.”

Her face twisted into a look of indignation. “Harry, I’m fine. You don’t need to treat me like a child.”

His tone was hard, not taking her plea into account. “You need to recover for us to have any chance of pulling this off. It’s just one day.” He sighed and ran a hand through his black hair. “Rest up today, the both of you.”

Hermione started to argue but stopped when she saw the look on Ron’s face, his features looking far more exhausted than they had earlier. “Please, Hermione?”

She hadn’t even noticed they were holding hands again as he gave her a quick squeeze.

��Fine, we can clear our heads today and come back fresh tomorrow.”

Harry nodded, his eyes downcast, and made his way out of the small cottage for his daily visit to Dobby’s grave, leaving the two of them alone.

After a moment, Ron yawned again. “I think I might just take a quick kip on the sofa.”

Hermione nodded. “Before you go, come with me. I noticed that we both still have scratches that need mending.”

She led them back to the kitchen, which was now empty. She asked him to get the dittany while she got a towel and put it down on the table, before placing her wrist on it. As Ron sat down, she grabbed his hand and did the same.

“See?”

He examined the mark and shrugged. “Yeah, it’s kind of weird they’re the same. I noticed mine a few days ago, but I figured it would heal.”

She poured a couple of drops of dittany on his wrist, and nothing happened. “Odd, that should fix it.”

She tried the same on her own wrist, and just like his, nothing happened. “I don’t know why it isn’t working. I might need to research healing charms a bit further.”

“I’m sure it’s fine Hermione. Maybe the dittany has lost its potency or something. I think we should use this day off to get some rest, like Harry wanted.”

Ron cleaned up as she sat there, trying to puzzle out what these red lines around their wrists meant. It was strange, because under closer inspection, it didn’t look like a cut or a scratch. It was almost embedded in her skin, like a Muggle tattoo.

“You want to head up and rest for a bit?” Ron held out his hand and she took it, allowing him to help her up and walk her up the stairs. Though she’d argued with Harry, if she was honest, another day of just rest couldn’t hurt. Perhaps she’d take a quick bath later, but for now, she wanted to try and figure out the mystery of this red band.

Ron helped her into bed and tucked her in, gently kissing her forehead before he turned toward the door. She could see his ears aflame, and she smiled. “Get some rest, alright?”

“I will. You too, you look tired, and I’m sure the floor wasn’t comfortable.”

Ron shrugged. “Cushioning charm. If you need anything… anything at all, just call out, ok? I’ll leave the door open a bit so I can hear you.”

“Thanks, Ron.”

She watched as his lanky figure retreated down the hall and the stairs, before reaching under the bed to retrieve her beaded bag. She had somehow held onto it through her ordeal. She spent a few minutes digging inside to find some of the books was looking for. If this mark she and Ron shared was magical, as she was beginning to suspect, then surely she’d find an answer in her books. They’d never let her down before.

After two hours of research, she’d found nothing describing what she was seeing. What she wouldn’t give for access to the Hogwarts library right now! Her head was swimming with information, so she put the books away and lay back down, trying to work through everything that had happened over the past week.

She must have nodded off, because she woke up with a start an hour later, an idea in her head. Her door was open wider than she remembered, and she instinctively knew that Ron must have come up to check on her. It made her feel so cared for.

She pulled herself out of bed and quietly padded over to the stairs, unsure of where anyone else was. She went downstairs, only to find Ron asleep on the settee, though he seemed restless with a frown on his face. She hoped he would fall into a deeper sleep and get the rest he needed. No one else was around, having vacated the cramped cottage to take in the warm afternoon.

The idea that had struck her was simple. She realized that she was sharing the house with a wizard who had a vast amount of knowledge around magical lore. Luna had even mentioned everything she’d learned from Mr. Ollivander while they were held captive. Perhaps the old wandmaker might have seen something similar in his time, either in a book, or through the sheer volume of people he’d met in his lifetime.

She snuck up quietly, so as not to disturb Ron. She approached the door where Ollivander was staying and knocked quietly, hoping that he too wasn’t sleeping. He’d faced many months of brutal captivity and needed the recovery time more than she did.

“Come in,” a frail voice called out.

Hermione gently opened the door and poked her head in. “I was hoping I might trouble you for a moment.”

He squinted at her. “Of course, Miss Granger.”

She slipped in and closed the door silently behind her.

“Would you mind opening the curtains? I’ve missed the sun.”

She pulled open the pastel blue curtains, flooding the room with afternoon light.

“Ah, much better.”

She surveyed the older wizard. He certainly looked better than he had a couple of days prior, when he’d come down for a quick dinner. Some colour had returned to his face and his silvery eyes seemed sharper in the sunlight.

He beckoned Hermione to approach, so she pulled a worn wooden chair over and sat down next to his bed.

“What can I help you with?”

“I’ve noticed something strange, on both me and Ron, and I wanted to ask you if you’ve ever seen anything like it. I’m certain it’s something magical, but the books I have access to don’t seem to mention it.”

He sat up, intrigued. One of the traits that made him such a legendary wandmaker was his curious nature. He’d often had to research deep and ancient magical lore to improve the wands he was creating.

“You see, we both have this thin red mark around our wrists, but they don’t seem to be an injury, as dittany did nothing to them.”

She thrust out her arm to show him.

The older wizard examined the mark carefully, turning over her wrist to see the path all the way around. His eyes narrowed to slits. “Hmm… that’s interesting. Yes, very interesting indeed. You said that both yourself and Mr. Weasley have this mark?”

“Yes, just the two of us, no one else that I could see. I thought it might have been from the ropes that bound us, but that doesn’t seem to be the case. The mark also seems to be under the skin. We certainly didn’t have them until after we were captured.”

Ollivander nodded for a moment as he continued staring at her marked skin. “I believe I know what this is, but you may find the idea unbelievable.”

Hermione let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding. “What is it?”

“This is very old magic. Ancient, in fact.”

Hermione gasped and jerked her hand away. Everything she’d read about old magic was steeped in horrible, antiquated beliefs and traditions.

Ollivander let out a dry chuckle, perhaps his first laugh in ages. “Not to worry, my dear. Many misunderstand this type of magic. This, I believe, can be a good thing. Much like the magic Harry’s mother performed in sacrificing herself to save him when he was a baby.”

“But how?”

“Magic is extremely powerful, as you know. What can make it even more powerful is connection. Connection between us, as witches and wizards. Connection with the world around us. Connection to our wands, which help us to hone and amplify our magic. But in this case, I believe that connection leads to our very core—connection to our souls.”

Hermione nodded, not completely understanding. She allowed Ollivander to continue, as she formulated a thousand questions in her head.

“Do you believe in fate, Miss Granger?”

She frowned, not liking where this conversation was going.

“Judging by the look on your face, I believe you were going to say no. That is fine, you can have your beliefs. One of mine is that there are powerful forces at work, for good or for ill. I believe that through these forces, some people meet and create an important connection. Given what you’ve shown me, I believe that is true of yourself and Mr. Weasley.”

Hermione gasped. “Are you saying that Ron and I are… soulmates?”

“Not quite, it is far more complex than that. Soulmates imply a pre-destiny. What I believe is that you two share a deeper connection, one that’s been built over time. A connection you both chose to forge. From what I’ve seen, this mark is a rare thing. A physical manifestation of a soul bond.”

He paused for a moment, watching the disbelief on her face. He seemed to be thinking of a different way to approach this.

“Have you asked yourself why the Cruciatus Curse that you endured did not affect your mental state? Most people who endured what you did would have been driven to madness, especially by such a powerful and uniquely hateful witch as Bellatrix Lestrange.”

“I-I just thought I got lucky. That I did everything in that moment to keep focus and not lose myself to the pain.”

He looked at her shrewdly. “Did Mr. Weasley do anything to protect you, given this connection between the two of you?”

“He… he tried. He tried to take my place. He volunteered himself to take that torture for me, but Bellatrix didn’t allow it. She said he was next if I died under questioning.”

“Ah, so though he failed, he was still willing to sacrifice himself for you? In much the same way we’ve seen protective magic work before?”

She nodded. “Yes.”

“You see, this is where I believe the soul bond came into existence. For it to happen, there would have to be a strong underlying foundation of connection already. Perhaps you love Mr. Weasley, or he loves you. I think you love each other for it to manifest in this way.”

“I’ve not heard of any of this happening before.”

“This is ancient magic. Even though he couldn’t protect you physically, I believe your souls bonded in that moment and he was able to protect your soul, your very being, through his love for you. The torture being inflicted on you was not on one, but rather split across two souls, and that protected you from experiencing the full power of the curse.”

“Wouldn’t that mean that he would have felt the same things I was when I was being tortured?”

“Very astute. Miss Lovegood told me you were extremely bright. He likely would have felt it in a different way—as you felt it in your body, he felt it in his soul to save you from having to. The despair he would have felt and his own screams, as I recall, reflected that. Like he was losing an important part of himself, which he was.”

Hermione nodded slowly, not even aware that her cheeks were wet with tears from Ron’s sacrifice.

“The soul bond itself can exist due to a deep connection, that is known, but it’s rarely tested in this way. What you went through, this attack on your very souls in such an extreme, violent way, is why I think the mark has shown itself. Your connection was stretched to its very limit, to its very breaking point had you not survived, and yet you overcame it. It’s miraculous, really.”

Hermione looked back down at her wrist, and was filled with warmth, and of love for Ron.

After a moment, Ollivander spoke again. “Are you going to tell him what we’ve talked about?”

Hermione nodded. “Yes, I owe it to him to tell him, and I want him to know I feel the same way about him.”

“Then I wish you luck.”

“Thank you, Mr. Ollivander. This means so much to me.”

“It is nothing, my dear. You and your friends have rescued me from a much darker fate, and for that I will be forever grateful.”

Hermione said her goodbyes as the wandmaker settled down to sleep before she shut the door and made her way back to her room. The conversation took a lot out of her, and she required her own rest, her hand around her wrist and thoughts of Ron playing in her head as she drifted off.

Her eyes opened to the late afternoon sun, and her Ron leaning against the doorframe, a soft smile on his face.

“How long have you been up here?”

“Just a few minutes. I could hear your snores from downstairs,” he teased.

“Oh, shush!” She blushed, and he chuckled.

He pointed to the weird lumps under her blanket. “What are those?”

“Oh, just books. I was doing a bit of light research before sleeping.”

He gave her a knowing look. “Did you actually rest?”

“I did, I promise. Did you get some sleep?”

He nodded slightly but didn’t meet her eyes. “A bit.”

She sat up in bed, all the while staring at the bags under his eyes. “Do you want to take a walk with me, Ron? I could use some fresh air.”

He strode toward the bed and held out a hand to gently help her up. “Let’s go, I think everyone else is outside anyway.”

“Can we walk down to the beach? There’s something I need to discuss with you in private.”

“Did you find something out about these marks on our wrists?”

“I did, but we can talk about it later.”

With their hands connected, they made their way out of the small seaside cottage. They waved to their friends, before walking down the worn path to the sand below. The tides gently rippled against the shoreline, the air warming their skin. The weather was surprisingly lovely for March.

They walked slowly for a few minutes, their hands swinging freely between them. The breeze was making a mess of her overgrown curls, making her feel carefree for the first time in months.

Hermione could feel Ron’s eyes on her, most likely making sure she wasn’t overexerting herself. She met his glance and smiled, which he returned, seemingly relaxing.

They came across a large piece of driftwood that had likely been placed there as a place to sit. Hermione tugged Ron toward it, and they took a seat, staring out at the mesmerizing body of water.

Ron pushed his hair back from his forehead, before placing an arm behind her back, bracing her. “What did you want to discuss? Is it about these marks?”

“Yes and no.” Hermione glanced at him. “What was that exchange with Harry about this morning?”

“What exchange?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, Ron. You know what I’m talking about.”

Ron shook his head in mock anger. “Bloody know-it-all.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” She placed a hand on the denim of his thigh and gave it a quick squeeze. “Now, please tell me.”

He huffed but started speaking after a few seconds. “I haven’t been sleeping much. Every time I close my eyes, I hear your screams in my head—it’s like I’m right there in the cellar again, re-living the torture. The first couple of nights I woke up screaming, but we shielded your room from it so you could rest and recover.”

She looked closely at him through the tears forming in her eyes as he continued. “All I can picture is you, alone on the floor of that room, Bellatrix standing over you as you scream and writhe in pain. It’s like I can feel it in my gut. It takes me hours to fall into a restless sleep, and then I’m exhausted when I wake up.”

Her hand reached up and cupped his cheek, and he leaned into her touch. “Oh, Ron. Is that why Harry was asking you about sleep this morning?”

“Yeah, he knows what I’ve been going through, but I swore him to secrecy. I didn’t want to tell you and worry you; I just wanted you to focus on getting better. Should have been me who got tortured, Merlin knows I deserved it.”

“Don’t say that. Please don’t say that.” She wiped her sleeve across the wetness running down her face. “I wouldn’t have been able to stand it if she’d have done that to you.”

“I couldn’t stand it either, I was out of my mind trying to get to you. I just can’t seem to get past it. That, and the guilt from abandoning you… and Harry. I’m just so… fucked up. The only thing making it better is being able to take care of you and seeing you recover. Of seeing you alive.”

She leaned into him, and he wrapped his arms around her as she lay her head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat. They both craved the closeness.

She heard him sniffle a few times, and could feel his breathing slow down before she pulled away and met his eyes. “I think I might know what’s happening.”

He smirked slightly. “Course you do. Found it in one of your books, did you?”

“No, not this time. I had a chat with Mr. Ollivander.”

Ron’s eyebrows lifted in surprise. “Really? When?”

“While you were sleeping. But I-I’m a bit afraid of telling you what I learned, because of what it might mean.”

Ron’s voice was low. “You know you can tell me anything, right?”

“I know, Ron. I trust you.”

Hermione pulled his arm into her lap and slowly traced the red circle around his wrist. “Mr. Ollivander had an interesting theory on what this is, and it relates to why you might be having trouble sleeping.”

He nodded, his breathing quickening from her tender touch, his eyes following the path of her fingertips.

“He told me about the deep connections that we can form through the power of magic, and he believes we have formed such a connection… between our very souls.”

Ron’s eyes widened as he stared at her. His voice croaked as he asked the question she hoped. “How?”

“It’s like when Harry’s mum sacrificed herself for him. First, there had to be a strong foundation already between us, one we’ve built deep within ourselves. In Harry’s case, it was the love of a mother for her son. In our case…”

She trailed off, her cheeks hot at the implication. Ron just nodded, his face pale despite the sunshine. “Go on.”

“He believes that when you volunteered to take my place at Malfoy Manor, to sacrifice yourself for me, that something like that happened again.” Hermione could feel tears forming again and spilling down her face, and her voice hitched, knowing there was no going back. “Except this time, since you physically couldn’t protect me, your… your soul bonded with mine and you still protected me, my very being. Because… because you love me.”

Hermione let out a sob and threw herself into his chest. His arms immediately encircled her as she cried against him, overwhelmed. He held onto her tightly, but she felt his whole body shaking, his own tears dripping and landing in her hair.

“Oh, Ron. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” she cried, suddenly flooded with guilt at her previous actions toward him, this man that loved her with his very soul.

He sniffled loudly, before he whispered. “You don’t feel the same.”

“NO!” Her shout startled him as she pulled back and looked up at his red-rimmed eyes, her arms still at his sides as she shook her head vehemently. “I do feel the same, Ron, I do. I love you, too. The connection is so strong because we love each other.”

She hugged him tightly again, and it was like they were one. “I’m sorry because I treated you so terribly when you returned. I was just so heartbroken.”

“I deserved it, Hermione,” he whispered in her ear. “I never should have left; it was the worst mistake I’ve ever made.”

“I forgive you, a thousand times over. I owe you my life, Ron.”

“You don’t owe me anything. I’d do it again in a heartbeat, love.”

Her breath caught at the word. She looked up at him, and though she knew she looked terrible, he was gazing at her like she was the most precious, most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. He tucked a curl behind her ear and cupped her chin in his hand.

“Do you know how badly I want to kiss you right now, Hermione? I’m afraid that if I start, I’ll never be able to stop, and we have bigger things to worry about right now.”

She nodded tearfully. “You’re right. We have to save the bloody world first.”

His eyes nearly popped out of his head. “You swore! My soul’s already a bad influence on you.”

She grinned, her eyes roaming his face openly, taking in the wonderous sight of the man she loved. “The worst.” She moved out of the temptation of his embrace and sat next to him, dropping her head onto his shoulder.

He picked up her hand and kissed it, before examining her wrist.

“So, this mark is because of the soul bond?”

“It’s usually something you only feel. Ollivander thinks ours manifested physically because our bond was tested in such an intense way, and we still survived it. It’s why I wasn’t harmed mentally by the torture, and why you’re experiencing nightmares and pain. You need to heal from the torture you took on to protect me, just as much as I do.”

“Yeah, I think I do. I slept a bit better last night—even though I was on the floor, being close to you was comforting.”

“Good, you need to get your rest. You’ve been taking such care of me, but you need to focus on yourself, too.”

“I will, especially now that I know what’s happening. I’ll think good thoughts, like when you told me you loved me.”

He turned and swiftly kissed her on the forehead, which is all he dared to do for the moment. Standing up, he dusted the sand off his trousers and helped her up again.

“What do we tell Harry?”

“I don’t think we should tell him anything, Ron. He has enough soul-related matters to worry about. He needs to know we’re with him.”

“You’re right, as always. Since there won’t be any other opportunities, I want to say it properly. I love you, Hermione Granger.”

She beamed at him and wiped away another stray tear. “I love you, Ron Weasley.”

He knocked his shoulder into hers playfully. “If you ever get the urge to jump me and snog me senseless, feel free. You have my permission.”

She giggled and squeezed his hand as they walked back toward Shell Cottage. “One day, love.”

[thelargefrye]

just want yeosang to use that deep voice of his as he makes love to witch yn 🤪

[ DEEP LOVE 18+ ] —— yeosang and you spend some time while wooyoung is away.

pairing : dragon!yeosang x witch!f!reader (background poly ateez) genre : dragon au, fantasy / medieval, smut warnings : language, unprotected sex, monster cock!yeosang, pet name (princess)

“how long will wooyoung be gone?” yeosang ask, his body bending over yours as his voice basically caresses your ear. his bare chest presses into your bare back as he bends you over the table you had been attempting to clean since breakfast was over.

“till around noon,” you say as a moan rips through your throat as you feel yeosang’s fingers touching your clit before running through your slowly dripping wet folds.

the black haired dragon hums as his other hand gropes your breast, tweaking your nipple. you let out a breathy moan as you make a sad attempt at arching your back. yeosang presses a loving kiss your scarred shoulder before he trails his kisses up your shoulder, neck, and jaw before he kisses your cheek.

“you gonna let me fuck you then? fuck you right here on this table and leave you full of cum for wooyoung to come home and see?”

you let out a moan at the image of your red haired mate walking through the front door to be greeted with your cum-filled pussy. how wooyoung would probably eat you out before fucking your pussy as yeosang either fucks your mouth or wooyoung.

“a-ah! please fuck me, yeo,” you beg as you rub your ass against his hard cock. the length alone sliding against your ass is enough to make you shiver in excitement.

yeosang let’s out a chuckle, “such a needy princess, aren’t you?” he teases before lining his cock up with your entrance and then slowly pushing inside.

“o-oh, f-fuck! sangie, yeosang! hmm,” you whine out feeling the fullness of yeosang’s cock inside you. the dragon pins you down to the table as his holds your hips in a tight grip. he waits a moment before he begins thrusting into you at a pounding pace that has the whole table shaking.

the small cottage is filled with the sounds of your moans and his grunts and words as he calling you his “dirty princess” and asks “are you going to hold my cum until woo gets home?” “you going to let him eat it out of you while i fuck him?”

“y-yes! yes, yeo— fuck, yeosang! please fill me up! please cum in me, your cock just feels so good,” you cry out feel his cock stretching out your tight walls as you desperately try to clench around him. “fuck so big,” you add as you feel your eyes start to roll in the back of your head as you grow closer to climax.

“fuck, princess, are you growing closer to coming? you gonna come?” he asks, his breath ghosting over the shell of your ear and you clench as how deep his voice is in the moment. you can tell he’s probably also growing closer with how his hips stutter and rhythm getting thrown off a little bit.

“yeo, can i come? will you come with me?” you ask as you feel his hand making contact with your clit once more as he vigorously makes tight circles on your bud.

“o-of course you can, y/n, let go whenever you want,” he says as he kisses his mate mark that rest next to wooyoung’s. you remember how wooyoung was a little grumpy about yeosang marking you right next his own, but hopefully got over it.

you do finally come when you feel yeosang bite down on his mark. you let out a loud moan as you clench hard around the dragon’s cock as he finally comes as well.

you let out a small groan as yeosang rests on top of you for a few moments before you start to worry about the two much access weight on the wooden table. “yeo…” you mumble catching his attention as he sits up. you can’t help the series of whines that leave your lips as your mate pulls out of you.

yeosang let’s out a laugh before he’s turning you over on your back and adjusting you further on the table. “make sure you look pretty for wooyoung. you know how much he loves eating this pussy, princess.”

“especially since it’s filled with sangie’s cum,” a new voice says and you looked through fuck-dazed eyes as wooyoung appears next to yeosang. you can’t help but clench at the sight of the two dragons looming over you and you know you are all in for whatever is about to happen the rest of the day.

tag list (bold means unable to tag) : @frankenstein852 @watamotee33 @kawennote09 @mixling-blog @hwal0v3r @marahleiwhen @harry-the-pottypus @rdiamond2727 @sanniesbum @marvelahsobx @voidcupidz @khjcoo @mysticfire0435 @exfolitae @kangskims @cvpitvno @lzvxndxr @dementedaly

honorable tag : bestie @songmingisthighs (your request is in the works right now 😭)

[mysteryshoptls]

SSR Lilia Vanrouge - Beach Wear Vignette

"Lilia's Super Deluxe Uninhabited Island Special"

[Uninhabited Island – Cottage]

Lilia: Here we go, Stitch. Time to start prepping "that" thing.

Stitch: Got it, okay!

Lilia: First, we need a large pot…

Lilia: Then we take all the fresh fruit we gathered, and… GO LIKE THIS!!

[squeezes fruit]

Stitch: Weehoo ♪

Lilia: Kufufu, doesn't it look delicious? Fresh fruit always tastes best raw or juiced like this.

Lilia: We'll just squeeze the mango and pineapple with magic, just like this…

Stitch: Yeehaw!

Lilia: Ohh…? You've got a tight grip on that pineapple there…

[CRUNCH, CRUNCH CRUNCH!]

Lilia: Nice going, Stitch! You got some nice 100% Juice flowing almost instantly.

Lilia: Kufufu, then I'll leave the squeezing of all the fruit to you.

Lilia: But I can't let you show me up. Let's see, here's the clear water we pulled from the waterfall…

[turns water to ice]

Stitch: !!

Lilia: Surprised? If I use magic like this, I can freeze water no problem.

Lilia: But I have to make sure I don't get carried away and use too much. We don't know when Gantu might attack us next.

Stitch: Yay!

Lilia: Have you finished squeezing the fruits already? Kufufu, you sure are a strong one, Stitch.

Lilia: …You are just like him.

Stitch: ?

Lilia: There's this guy named Malleus. He's descended from dragons, and his power is overwhelming.

Lilia: Even the hardest coconut shell is nothing more than a fragile eggshell in his hands.

Lilia: And he would also throw tantrums left and right if something didn't suit him.

Lilia: Like punching holes in the walls, or encasing the castle in ice, or raining down thunderbolts… To put simply, he was a pretty rambunctious kid.

Stitch: Bad boy appeared… Grr.

Lilia: I suppose so. There definitely are those who think he is a bad boy.

Stitch: Aw...

Lilia: If the people around him are frightened and try to avoid him, of course he'll turn out to be a rowdy kid.

Lilia: But, you know, Stitch. I think that it's okay for a bad kid to stay as they are.

Stitch: ?

Lilia: You may be hunted by Gantu just because you're a bad boy who likes to destroy things...

Lilia: But you've helped us so much with your amazing strength. The most important thing is how you use that power of yours.

Stitch: Ye-huh ♪

Lilia: …Well, I guess you could also say it also depends on the circumstances, too.

Stitch: ？

Lilia: Aw, but, I think that your aggressive and cute little self is just the most charming little thing!

Stitch: Oooh!

Lilia: Mhm, that's a good smile. Okay then, let's get back to the task at hand, Stitch.

Lilia: I say that, but all that's left for us to do is to add some more fruit juice.

Lilia: Oh yeah, we'll need a bowl to serve what we made. The shells are a little too small, so maybe we can make something out of the branches and leaves?

Stitch: Hah-ha!

[thock, thock, thock…]

Lilia: Oho, that's…

[Uninhabited Island – Cottage]

Jack: Lilia-senpai, did something happen? Why'd you call us all to the cottage like this suddenly?

Grim: Sniff, sniff, sniff… Funyaa～ I smell something sweet.

Ace: Eh! Oh, is this some kind reward for all our hard work gathering fruits and drawing water every day?

Floyd: A reward? Well, obviously we should be getting' something, I've been working sooo hard～

Lilia: Very perceptive. You're right, it's a reward! Something I've prepared for each and every one of you. And it's…

Everyone: It's?

Lilia: A FROZEN DESSERT!!

Grim: A frozen dessert!! …Like what?

Azul: He must be talking about a type of sweet made from freezing fruit juice and the like.

Azul: Since it's made of the ingredients found on this island, it could possibly be a sorbet… or perhaps a frappe?

Lilia: Correct. I'm treating you all to some cooooold shaved ice.

Grim: Shaved ice! Yuuuum, hurry and give me some!

Ace: Me too, me too! Every day's so hot, I'd been wanting to have something like ice cream.

Lilia: Kufufu, no need to fret.

Lilia: Now then, I'll take this bucket full of ice, and… DO THIS!

[CRACK!]

Ace: All the ice just shattered from that hand chop!?

Riddle: Lilia-senpai can even fell a large tree almost instantly. …Honestly, nothing surprises me anymore.

Lilia: Once you get a mound of shaved ice into one of the bowls that Stitch made for us…

Lilia: Drizzle some of the syrup we made from the fruits, and… IT'S READY TO EAT!

Lilia: Okay, let's start with you, Grim. Make sure you savor the flavor.

Grim: Nom, slurp, crunch, nom! Oooowee, it's so cold and tast…

Grim: URK!?

Ace: Grim!? Lilia-senpai, don't tell me you made the syrup out of that terrible tasting fruit…!?

Grim: Urgh, my head is numb… But it's so sweet and cold, it's crazy good!

Ace: Oh, you just ate it all tooo fast and got a headache. Sheesh, you scared me.

Lilia: Alright, everyone! I'll make one for all of you. [Yuu], what kind of syrup do you want?

1. Mango flavored! 2. Pineapple flavored!

Azul: I would like to have pineapple flavored syrup. It should have a nice tartness to it for a crisp taste.

Jack: I'll… try the mango. If I'm going to eat it with ice, I'd rather have a richer flavor.

Ace: Lilia-senpai, can I have both?

Floyd: Oh, is that allowed? Then I want both too～

Lilia: Here's the mango flavored one. And this one's the pineapple. And a combo for Ace and Floyd.

Jack: It's so cold and delicious. It's refreshing and I feel like this is a nice way to cool down.

Floyd: Yup. I thought it'd be nothing special 'cause it's just fruit juice over ice, but this syrup is pretty bangin'.

Ace: This syrup rocks! The parts where the mango and pineapple mix together is the best part.

Azul: What, really? Urk, I should have also chosen to have both…

Lilia: Kufufu, there's still a lot of syrup, you can have seconds. And it's all because Stitch helped me so much.

Stitch: Yahahahaha ♪

Lilia: But we have to make sure everyone gets their first helping first.

Lilia: Riddle, have you made a decision? If you're still having trouble choosing, you can also get both syrups.

Riddle: No, thank you, that's unnecessary.

Riddle: My mother always would say, "You cannot eat food made of ice, for they will chill your stomach."

[Uninhabited Island – Cottage]

Lilia: Riddle, have you made a decision? If you're still having trouble choosing, you can also get both syrups.

Riddle: No, thank you, that's unnecessary.

Riddle: My mother always would say, "You cannot eat food made of ice, for they will chill your stomach."

Ace: Ehh! You gonna worry about that now!? There's no way she'd find out even if you had some now.

Floyd: You don't get it at all, huh, Goldfish-chan. It'll be even more delicious when you snag a bite to eat even after your mom says no.

Lilia: Now, now. It's impolite to comment on the customs of other families.

Riddle: Indeed. Therefore, please don't worry about me…

Lilia: Then, I'll make a special dish just for you, Riddle.

Lilia: I'll freeze the mango with my magic, and… DO THIS AND THEN THIS!

Azul: Oho, you've sliced the frozen mangos thin, almost replicating the shaved ice.

Floyd: And you served it in a coconut half shell as a bow. It's all decorated with frozen bananas, pineapples, and even flowers, too.

Lilia: Here you go, Riddle. It's a "Chilled Fruit Dish." There's not a single piece of ice on it.

Riddle: …Heh. This certainly is a dish "made out of fruit" and not "made out of ice."

Riddle: Thank you, Lilia-senpai. Then, I shall dig in…

Riddle: !!

Riddle: Delicious! The fruit just dissolves instantly as soon as it touches my tongue… This is the first I've ever had such a thing.

Grim: Funyaa～～! No fair that just Riddle gets some! Lilia, me too! Me toooo～!

Floyd: Ehh, I wanna eat some too. Goldfish-chan, give me a bite!

Lilia: Okay, okay, I got it. I'll make some for everyone, so just wait a moment.

Azul: But really… Who would even think of freezing fruit only to shave them? Lilia-san, that was a brilliant idea.

Lilia: I just tried copying this one snack I tasted during one of my trips to a tropical country.

Lilia: In the past, there was many a time that I had to make this sort of thing. When it comes to frozen desserts, I'm really quite particular.

Lilia: At first, I was only able to make simple dishes, like shaved ice with drizzled nectar or fruit juice…

Lilia: But there was this one guy who would just revel at eating the shaved ice I'd make him.

Lilia: I thought he'd get bored of continuously eating the same thing, so I tried to make it look more and more gorgeous, adding condensed milk or honey-soaked fruit to them.

Lilia: Back then, I wasn't very used to cooking, but I bet if I tried again now, I could probably make something much fancier.

Lilia: Alright, Lilia's Super Deluxe Uninhabited Island Special is ready! Come, eat it before it melts.

1. Let's dig in! 2. Thank you very much!

Grim: Nom, nom nom!! That rich, sweet flavor just completely melts in my mouth～!

Jack: It's more flavorful than just drizzling the syrup on the ice. This is the first time I've ever eaten fruit like this.

Ace: This frozen banana is also crazy good. It's got a way different texture than the raw stuff. You should try this too, [Yuu].

Lilia: What do you think, Stitch? Is it good?

Stitch: …

Riddle: He's looking very forlornly at his empty shaved ice bowl. Perhaps he would like seconds.

Lilia: Or maybe… Did looking at the cup remind you of someone?

Stitch: …

Riddle: Now that you mention it, the bowls that Stitch made for our shaved ice does have an interesting shape to it.

Riddle: It has a conical shape, as if for ice cream, or gelato…

Lilia: Hm. Well, that reminds me that I once saw shaved ice being sold at a food stand in this one tropical country in a similar conical shape.

Lilia: A tricycle carrying a silver box was parked on the side of the road. They were selling shaved ice to those walking by.

Lilia: Eating shaved ice with a ton of syrup on a hot day is the absolute best. You should try it sometime.

Riddle: Eating while walking is… Ah, never mind. Yes, alright. Perhaps if the occasion arises.

Riddle: Based on your anecdote just now, it may be that Stitch here is from a more tropical region.

Stitch: …

Stitch: …Ohana.

Lilia: I get it. There's a certain "someone" you want to share this delicious shaved ice with.

Stitch: Ye.

Lilia: Mhm, I understand that feeling well.

Lilia: The guy who would always ask me to make him frozen desserts was always the same way.

Lilia: It's not that he wanted to eat it because it was delicious. It's more like he wanted to eat it with someone he cared for.

Lilia: I'm the same way. I used to think that whatever I ate didn't matter, so long as it sated my hunger. However…

Lilia: Even those frozen desserts that I never thought would satisfy me would always be the most delicious when I could eat it with him.

Stitch: Yeah.

Lilia: Now that he's more or less stopped throwing his tantrums, I haven't really made him any shaved ice anymore.

Lilia: Maybe once we escape from this island, it may be a good chance to try my hand at it again.

Lilia: Oh, right. You should make this shaved ice for your loved ones as well. I'll give you the recipe.

Stitch: Great!

Riddle: Eating it with people is what makes it delicious, hm.

Riddle: Lilia-senpai, please teach me the recipe as well.

Riddle: I would like to make it for my dormmates who no doubt are fulfilling my duties while I am gone.

Lilia: Well, of course, I'd be happy to. I'll give you a proper lesson on how to make it, too.

Lilia: I'll have to tell them all about my adventures on this island. Kufufu, that's just another thing to look forward to this summer.

Requested by Anonymous.

[unhinged-romione]

Hullo there! I've had really bad Romione brainrot for the past six years and as a result, I present to you a bunch of fics!

I mainly write Romione missing moments, but I also have a lotta AUs (Muggle and otherwise), steamy post-war one-shots, and a gen ficlet featuring the incomparable ✨Luna Lovegood ✨

And without further ado... *sweeping hand motions*

Series'

Mine (T): 6-chap 6th year AU where Romione got together and Hinny takes things to the next level. Hermione and Ginny are kinda hoe-y in this and I love it 🤪 WIP - but Romione part is COMPLETE

"What If" Romione Kisses (T): anthology of seven one-shots, one for each year, answering the question, “What if Ron and Hermione had kissed earlier?” COMPLETE

Let's Go (T but prolly will change to M): Muggle AU of Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley meeting one magical night at a pub during their final year of uni. WIP

One-Shots

Ocean Eyes (G/T): Hermione demands that Ron explain the meaning behind his Christmas gift in OotP.

moving into me (T): Yule Ball Romione starring transmasculine Ron 🙂🏳️‍⚧️

Before Daybreak (T): flash fic of Romione in a secret relationship during DH

Virgo's Groove (T): the festivities in Shell Cottage when Lupin announces Teddy's birth get a bit out of hand. Also, Ron and Hermione talk about babies…and what it takes to make babies.

Stand Still (G/T): ever wonder what was going through Hermione's mind when she asked Ron to Slughorn's Party? I did a lil take on it!

Say Yes To Heaven (G/T): Romione's dance during Bill and Fleur's wedding.

Hermione Granger & The Baronet's Son (G): A lil Bridgerton-inspired Regency AU I wrote for the 2024 @romione-masquerade!

Shameless Smut

All post war. All rated E (obvi).

Dive: Hermione finds a particular book that Ron hoped she would never know about. But what happens next is more than he could have ever bargained for.

Moment: Romione's first time.

lips slightly parted: a collection of probably mostly unrelated horny Romione drabbles and flash fics. Title is a reference to the brief moment in canon when Hermione was stuck in her fight-or-fuck response when Ron came back in DH.

Gen Fics

What in God's name is the Umgubular Slashkilter? (G): missing Hogsmeade 5th year moment post Harry's interview with Rita Skeeter.

[starlingflight]

Ginniversary Drabble 12

Prompt: I16 - Why had no-one ever mentioned Mum's twin?

AO3 or below:

She'd spent the morning at Shell Cottage, having accepted Fleur's invitation to help decorate the Christmas tree with what Ginny considered to be a generous supply of seasonal altruism. However, as the hours wore on, and Fleur's criticisms of Ginny's bauble placement became increasingly frequent, she could feel her benevolence swiftly waning. 

“You have bunched too many of the gold together,” Fleur declared, snatching Ginny's most recently placed bauble from the branch and relocating two inches to the left where it looked… exactly the same. 

Ginny swallowed the angry retort that rose in her throat in response to Fleur's behaviour. Harry's words from earlier that morning echoed through her mind. ‘Be nice’. Easier said than done where Fleur was concerned, but Ginny was trying. 

“Sorry,” Fleur muttered in the silence that had fallen between them, turning her perfect sapphire eyes on Ginny. “I just want it to be perfect. This year…” She trailed off. 

Ginny nodded in understanding, swallowing thickly against the lump that had risen in her throat. 

Even Fleur, who was annoyingly competent at everything she attempted, could do nothing to make this Christmas perfect. This year was proving to be a strange mix of festive cheer, and chest-crushing grief that lurked in the shadows, ready to jump out at them at any moment. Two opposite ends of the spectrum, that only served to intensify each other. The tree, at least, they could control. 

“Where do you want this one?” Ginny asked, selecting a delicate glass bauble from the box on the sofa. 

Fleur's smile was radiant, not that that was any indication of her feelings towards Ginny; Fleur's smile was always radiant. She pointed at a branch to Ginny's right. “Here would be good.” 

They managed the rest of the tree in relative peace. Ginny pretended not to see Fleur wince dramatically when she placed a bauble somewhere that wasn't to her liking, and Fleur waited for Ginny's back to be turned before moving it, keeping her comments mercifully to herself. 

They'd just placed the final bauble when the front door of the cottage opened, ushering in Bill, and a frigid blast of icy wind. Fleur hurried to him, removing his cloak and marshalling him to stand before the roaring fireplace. 

“The turkey is secured,” he pronounced, rubbing his hands in front of the fire. “The queue in Diagon Alley was ridiculous, but Mum's pleased – when I left she was telling Harry her plans for preparing it.” 

Ginny laughed as she crossed the room to stand beside Bill, unable to stop herself imagining the utterly serious look that she knew would overtake Harry's face as he listened carefully to Mum's instructions for proper turkey preparation. 

“You're freezing,” Fleur shook her head, pressing the back of her hand to Bill's ruddy cheek. “I will make hot chocolate… these English winters are so inhospitable…” 

She bustled off to the kitchen, still muttering about the weather. Ginny grinned wider as she watched her go.

“Thank you for doing this with her,” Bill said, quietly enough for only Ginny to hear. “She really wants to make an effort with you.” 

Fleur placed a pot on the stove, filled it with milk, and began to heat it. “I remember you like your hot chocolate with the little marshmallows, Ginny?” She called over her shoulder, and then as though she was unable to resist, “they are too sickly for my taste.” 

“Yes, I like loads of them,” Ginny called back, still smiling. 

“You should both sit down,” Fleur instructed. “I will bring your drinks.” 

Bill and Ginny did as they were bid, taking opposite sides of the sofa. Fleur sent a plate of iced gingerbread soaring to the coffee table in front of them. 

Ginny laughed lightly as she picked a piece up. 

“What?” Bill asked cautiously, following Ginny's eyes to where she was watching Fleur still bustle around the kitchen. 

“Oh nothing,” Ginny chewed thoughtfully on her gingerbread. “I was just wondering why no-one had ever mentioned Mum's twin.” 

“Shut up,” Bill shoved her playfully. Ginny's smirk grew. “That's the most disturbing thing you've ever said.” 

Ginny hummed, swallowing her mouthful of biscuit. “It's true though, isn't it?” 

“No,” Bill replied stubbornly. The two steaming mugs of hot chocolate that floated across the room to them suggested otherwise. “Anyway, you're one to talk – your boyfriend is currently in the kitchen at home taking cooking lessons from Mum.” 

“Yeah,” Ginny agreed, certain from the knowing way Bill was looking at her that her smile had turned agonisingly enamoured and finding it impossible to care. “But at least I know where my boyfriend is this year.” 

[rewritingcanon]

Ask and you shall receive! Ng hcs! (Note: some of these I've heard before and stuck to while some are original, also idk hoe to format this lol)

Albus had a fnaf phase when he was 10 that stuck with him for years.

Teddy is really good at drums and bass guitar

Albus is really good at math but not so good in English class.

James has anxiety and adhd

Teddy is pansexual and victoire is bi

Lilly is the only one of the potter siblings with glasses

Albus paints his nails black and wears eyeliner

James Secretly loves reading both old and new literature books but he doesn't let people know because it isn't expected of him

Victoire is a healer and is a very dedicated worker

Lilly made reserve seeker in her first year, harry cried over it

Albus has bipolar disorder

Teddy makes sure to have tea with his grandmother on the weekends with her freinds

James is really family oriented and gets homesick really easily, he also kisses both of siblings foreheads sometimes to their displeasure

Victoire surfs because she crew up in shell cottage right by the water

Dominique is a trans woman

Scorpius has brown eyes like his mom and multiple bueaty marks on his face

Teddy had a small gap between his teeth but changed his teeth with his metamorphmagus abilities cause he was terrified of getting braces

James is really good at singing but doesn't do it often

To the suprise of the hogwarts staff Lilly is the most like grandpa James not her older brother

Alice is plus size

Craig was the first person to stand up for albus when he was getting bullied. James thanked him for it and now they talk to each other whenever they see eachother

Scorpius has natural eye bags and because he's skinny and kinda pale people think he looks like a corpse which is ironic considering how full of life he is

I don't know how to end this so I'll stop here but I might make a part 2 or do hcs for each individual character idk.

omg i agree with SO much of these but i’m especially passionate about lily being the only potter sibling with glasses and scorpius having tonnes of beauty marks. i feel like i havent seen anyone else who also thinks scorpius is us riddled with beauty marks??? not just on his face but also neck, shoulders, chest etc. i thought it was only me lol.

and i really like the idea of james secretly being good at singing. i feel like he tries to “jokingly” belt songs that are hard to sing to sing terribly and annoy other people and this is how everyone finds out he’s actually really good at it 😭

and the idea of teddy using his abilities to get straight teeth would be so hilarious because ik for a fact he def don’t know shit about dental and will probs continue to fuck his teeth up even more. andromeda takes him to the dentist and it’s literally that dentists worst nightmare. like tf happened here??

also yes the idea that james sirius potter is the next marauders menace and fred weasley ii is the next weasley twin is outdated and boring. get the daughters in here rn.

[zynxwrite]

Wait this is the first thing I have ever requested lol. Could you please write a romantic peice for aonung, the reader is a sully (surprise surprise I can't think of anything else) and maybe just do something when him and reader sneak out at night and he's being really flirty but the reader is being a little oblivious and maybe it ends with some kisses 👀. Idk it's completely fine if you do not like this idea but just wanna let you know that I love your writing so please keep up the amazing work

pairings ❰ ao'nung x m!reader

fish boy asked you sneak out with him to 'hunt' and a little something something

warning: short writing, aonung himself

I made it an x male reader (I hope you don't mind since you didn't mention a gender for the reader) and yes i misread the word oblivious as obvious lol, still I hope you like this plot with a change of the word.

special tag bc I can: @nerdyglasess

The ocean water was lovely this evening. While the chilly wind blew along the shore, it was shimmering and twirling with the star's reflections. All but one person were capable of falling asleep listening to the sounds of the night.

You were the only member of your family awake at this late hour because it was late at night. Your hands were moving with each touch as you made the reef baskets with shells throughout by hand. You were the toruk makto's oldest son. Even if you weren't asked to be responsible, you still had to.

Crafting fascinating things on a regular basis would calm and relax you, especially at night. As you worked, the glorious stars would watch you as you created anything really.

While you were focused on weaving a basket, your sense didn't bother to look at your surroundings as you thought that everyone was asleep due to how late it was.

You assumed as much, however you were unaware that a figure was stealthily approaching you from behind as your hands shifted the shells into placement. Even humming a melody before this person could distract you.

"Uhm, hey-" an unexpected voice startled you, but you didn't have time to scream as you spun your torso around and raised your fists to strike something, or someone, that frightened you out.

After the attack, you looked down and noticed that Ao'nung, whose face you had just smacked, had his hands outstretched as you prepared to deliver another punch. You groan as you withdraw your fists.

You raise his body and pull his prominent ears as you lead him outside the cottage, abandoning your hand-woven baskets and your peacefuly sleeping family behind. While walking to whatever you were going to, Ao'nung moves to escape your grasp as it is freezing outside in the beachside village, his breath frosting over in the billowing air.

“What the hell was that?! You almost had me waking the entire village. Do not ever to that again or next time I will rip out your ears the next time you do that.” You hissed as the boy with teal skin fixed his posture with his ears down, understanding of what you were saying. You sigh while you allow him a minute to respond to your question as it appears he was tongue-tied. He mumbled an ‘I’m sorry’ which you did not catch as the wind was singing.

“I wanted to uh- ask you on uh....” As you stand in front of him, he fumbles with his hands as he tries to think of a sentence to say in response to your glance.

“I wanted to ask you if you would wanna come hunt a- big fish.. with me?” He grinned awkwardly at you as you stood there with a cringe-inducing expression on your face. As he continued to fidget with his hands in expectation of your response, you appeared to notice a reddish tint appearing on his cheeks.

So this is what this was all about huh. You shrugged your shoulders and a mischievous smile, almost a smirk, formed on your lips. You now finally know why this fish boy has been less of a tease on you, while he was extreme to your siblings.

“well of course I can, lead the way, warrior.” Your response to him is delivered while you attempt to avoid sounding sarcastic. His anxious eyes are now pierced by stars from above. 

Both of you mimicked the sound of an Ilu for them to be summoned. 

The both of you were guided to a sea-plant field by the stingray-like creatures. The corals' varied lights provided the opportunity for you to see underwater at night. You and your dear frenemie, Ao'nung have organized a race before traveling to the hunting destination.

You both descend underwater as you paddle with your ilu, the bubbles from your dive following you both as you disappear in the waves. You roll your eyes as your orbs saw that Ao’nung was already ahead of you, He’s a show off at anyways, he’s just annoying.

You and he have engaged in just few battle of races, but now you are both at your destined location.  You already understood that this place was not related to ginormous fishes or hunting. It was a stone-lined cavern filled with brilliant colors of light that shined brilliant at night. cute.

“So, uh- I think we kinda got the wrong location” He attempts to conceal the fact that the explanation for sneaking out was unrelated to hunting. It was about another topic, something he was keeping from you. 

While you were waiting for the appropriate moment, you simply played with the tone and ignored his comment. He was looking at you, perhaps zoning out, as you made a short circle around the coven with your hands on your hips.

You gave the boy a lingering glance before stopping your brief tour of this wonderful cavern. “Now, what is the actual reason why you brought me here, fish lips?” going back to his direction, his eyes met yours.

He had switched from his awkward body postures to those that were the reverse; he was now back to his ego personality. He was aware that you would have immediately learned the truth thanks to your sharp intelligence.

“You smart, smart tree hugger.” He chuckled while giving you that look. This guy really be flirting with you right now? Of course you were not gonna let him dominate you, you’re [name] sully, the eldest son of the man that came from a star.

nuts, he was the one who did it first. His lips met yours, Saying you were stunned is not so understating the situation. Instead of kissing back, you simply waited for him to realize what he was in fact doing. 

“aw, I was supposed to do that. You scxawng” You said as he pulled your lips away from his. You gave him a look that he could recognize, your eyes were a sign of yes to a question. 

“Let’s.. stay for a bit, I like the sound of waves. My [name].” You grinned as you knew where he got that reference from. You just hope for one thing, that his parents would agree with you being his mate. 

You two casually relaxed in peace while soaking in the outside waves. Aonung took hold of your hand, your five fingers hugging his four. Who would’ve thought that a forest person could ever be with a reef person? You two love birds would solve that.

“you’re still a bitch tho”

© 2023.zynxwrite .ᐟ please do not copy any of my writings.

[mrsarnasdelicious]

Taunting Sihtric

"You get so horny, it's cute."

Your lips brush the shell of your husband's ear. He groans ever so softly. Fluster dusts his cheeks and he avoids looking at his friends.

Hw tosses you over his shoulder and marches to the small cottage you share. "Do you think you can just turn me on like this?" He chuckles, kicking open the door and carrying you to the bed. You giggle and reach out to squeeze his pert arse. Gods, he has such an amazing arse!

He tosses you down on the bed and goes back to close the door. You take the iddle moment to take off your shoes and dress. Sihtric comes back to the bed, kicking off his boots and shirking his jerkin and shirt.

"Now now, wife, what to do with you." He looks down on you, taking off his breeches. You shimmy out of your smalls and gesture him to come hither. Sihtric wastes not a moment longer. He pulls off his own smalls and closes in on you.

His kisses are searing and bruise your lips. You moan and put your arms around his neck. Sihtric presses his body against yours and moans too. His arousal is evident, smearing across your lower stomach.

"I'm going to take you." He growls. "Gods yes, hump me." You hiss in reply. "Don't mind if I do." Sihtric purrs.

He lines himself up. You open your legs a little wider. "Yes, Sihtric." You whisper. He groans eagerly. He sinks into you with a deep sigh. He really was needing this. "Gods." He leans in to kiss you fiercely. "So good for me." You murmur into his mouth.

[witchhaven]

Soul

The wasteland, a hostile zone. Not that you'd be able to tell by looking at it much of the time. On this night, a light rain descended on the plains housing the abandoned cottage my unit set up our outpost in. I half-sat in the kitchen, on the counter with my lukewarm tea held in a gloved left hand, peering through the windows to see what little I could with the dim lighting reflecting against the glass. I was sure that I would've strained had I still been human.

The night was a quiet one, but as the combat doll in the squad, I was assigned to keep watch through the nights. I hadn't needed sleep since the conversion. I stared out into the inky darkness, watching for any movement. The squad's witch had been having bad dreams lately, and that had a high likelihood of attracting attention with the projected aura.

Suddenly, the gentle whispers of the light sprinkle of rain stopped. Silence followed, a deafening quiet. The sound, or lack thereof, was suffocating, as it engulfed the cottage. The lights began to flicker sporadically, as a large thump was heard, rattling the teacups against the saucers loudly. More silence followed, as the lights continued flickering. I set my teacup down, lurching forward to peer further through the windows.

After several minutes more of silence, a loud crack sounded as a bright red light permeated through the kitchen. A large, biomechanical, quadrupedal form, with wired structures loosely encapsulated the sickly, lanky frame. The head, seemingly impossibly supporting a large mouth full of sharp, metallic teeth, and a singular crimson optical array, piercing directly into my gaze. It let out an earsplitting, inorganic howl, confirming that it had indeed seen me. Immediately, I heard my comrades jolt awake at the sound, and in addition, my witch stepped out into my view.

"Soul, we need to move." They softly commanded me.

I began making my way to the rear of the cottage, "Yes, Miss. I'm proceeding to the tank."

"Understood. Now, the rest of you, get up, and get up quick. Flank in the APCs." They proceeded to follow me towards the back of the cottage.

Once we exited the back door, I entered the armored vehicle first. I seated myself in the driver's seat, starting the engines while my witch situated themselves in the turret. I began driving to a position clear enough to take a shot at the enemy. I then turn counter-clockwise 30 degrees to allow my witch the degree of movement they needed to fire on it. The APCs surrounded it, as the red light of the optical array scanned over us all.

The witch lined up the turret for a shot on the creature's core, "Good doll. Squad, prepare for concentrated fire on the Polyphemus's reactor."

As the order left my witch's mouth, the Polyphemus opened its mouth, and gunfire thundered on the left side APC, several rounds piercing its armor plating. In a snap reaction, my witch let loose a shot into the ribcage of the biomechanical beast. The fire stopped as it wailed from the damage, but the core remained intact. The witch began loading the next shot, as the creature's head turned to stare directly down at us. More precisely, it peered at the porthole of the turret.

As the Polyphemus opened its mouth again, I accelerated the tank forward, hearing my witch swear under their breath at the sudden movement, and gasp as a few projectiles grazed the rear of the vehicle. I turned 45 degrees clockwise, leading the creature away from the rest of the squad.

"Apologies, Miss! Please fire on the mouth with the auxiliary autocannon, we can lead it away from the rest of the squad!" I suggested to my witch.

They nodded as they rotated the seat, "Mmm. Tactically sound indeed, Soul."

My witch opened fire with the autocannon, prompting the monster to chase after us. It screeched as the dense projectiles peppered its shell. The two APCs followed after from either side. Secondary infantry manned the LMGs on top. Taking the incoming fire, the Polyphemus stumbled. I rotated the tank 180 degrees clockwise, allowing my witch to line up another cannon shot on the monster. They rotated the seat around, shoving the cartridge into the loading port, and lining up the turret for another shot at the chest. They pulled the trigger, cracking away the remaining ribcage structure, fully exposing the core.

It turned towards the tank, howling once again as it broke into a sprint with a fully open maw. I tried to reverse pace to evade the attack, but failed, and recoiled as metallic teeth breached the hull of the tank and clamped over the turret. The jaws ripped away as thick armor plates peeled like paper, accompanied by numerous sparks and sickening creaking. As it lifted its head up, I saw an opportunity: a fully exposed core, in perfect range. I let out a scream as I stood up, releasing a punch with my right arm. My conversion thankfully granted me the physical strength I needed to penetrate the core, but at the cost of the structural integrity of my forearm and various structures through my right arm. Fractures rippled through as flames poured out onto the floor of the now ruined vehicle. The Polyphemus's roaring lowered into a rumble, and then a silence, before it collapsed to our left side.

Burdened breathing faded in behind me as the noise of the battlefield cleared, between gasps, my witch praising me, "Good... doll. You're... an excellent operator..."

"Ma'am?" I turned around to see one of the teeth of the monster lodged in their chest.

I rushed over, and with my still functional left hand, pulled them out of the turret's seat, "No, no no no no no. Miss, please breathe, it's going to be okay..."

"O-operator class... B-450-3 Soul, I officially... dismiss you." The witch touched my face with their left hand.

I tightened my embrace around them, "No, Miss... No, that won't be necessary, you're gonna be fine, Miss. You're gonna be okay..."

I felt their body lose tension as their arm went limp, dropping from my cheek. I pulled away slightly to peer at their face. Their green eyes, once full of life were now motionless glassy marbles, still beautiful, but now starkly static. I held them close again, feeling their warmth fade, failing to feel them breathe, failing to feel their heartbeat. I wailed, eyes welling up with tears, a cruel reminder of what I still hadn't lost: the pain.

I feel as though I'm exiting a fog as I wake up this morning. What an unusual dream, then again, I don't recall having dreams of my own before. How vivid the images were, how real the emotions felt. It's like I wasn't dreaming at all, but being shown a memory. It certainly wasn't my own memory, how could it be? I'm a house, after all. Whose memory was I-

I'm interrupted by a knock at my front door. It's another doll, taller than the others. Dark hair, dull, red eyes, and a tired expression. Its hair is tied back in a loose ponytail, and a loose fitting set of dark clothes cover its body. I see dark fractures painting its right arm and hand, having been sealed over with a dark colored adhesive.

I allow my door to open for it, and it collapses to its knees in the opening. Peering into the main hall, its face cracks a weary smile.

"I'm home..."

This is the newest installment of an ongoing series called The Dolls' House, and while it's largely formatted like a slice-of-life, you'll still benefit from reading the series sequentially. Click here to read the first chapter.

[ofoceansandtombsanew]

taking away mc ships, what are you shipping in the our life cinematic universe?

okay so mcs are all off the table damn

hhhHHHHNNNNGHHH i had to think about this one for a minute

quick tldr:

lee/ren

derek/ren

baxter/liz

cove/baxter

opal/cliff

vianca/liz

serenity/tamarack

cove/tamarack

derek/tamarack

derek/qiu

okay so my first one might be a hear me out-er butー lee and ren. our sweet cousin lee and ren murray. LIKE CAN Y'ALL SEE MY VISION??? they would be the cutest girlfriends. like, lee is bright and forward but she's gentle and patient enough that ren's shyness wouldn't be something that grates her? and she'd gently coax ren out of her shell

lee doesn't give 'outdoorsy' girl, but she would definitely try out camping and hiking for ren because lee's the type to go out of her way like that. so yeah, definitely ship lee and ren for sure

another compatible person for ren that i can see is derek? like omg that would so fucking cute to me! both of them are sportsy, derek is literally a golden retriever in the shape of a person. he's very considerate and he takes that into account if ren comes over to hang out with his family, knowing when she needs her space

but if derek is putting too much pressure on himself, ren is there to tell him just that. she doesn't say it unkindly though. she just wants her bf to not be his biggest critic. and they love doing any outdoor activity together. when they get their families together, its suarezs versus murrays and afterwards they go to a family restaurant and talk the night away

ironically enough, even though baxter had a canonical crush on qiu when they were kids i don't see it moving past that. it's a crush fond to baxter's heart and he keeps it at that, a fond memory. definitely would never tell them ever. but if i was gonna ship him with anybody in the expansive universe of ol...

hear me out but i feel like liz and baxter would be surprisingly compatible. like, she doesn't take any bs and would get the guy to talk and open up. but if someone comes for him, she is right there in his corner ready to bat for her man. they'd have some good banter as well i think?

i think cove and baxter could also work if it's their step 4 selves. baxter is finally done running away from things and being more genuine and vulnerable and while cove is slow to warm up to people, he would see baxter is trying and slowly but surely their "we only hangout if our mutual friends invite us to the same space" turns into texting each of their own accord and eventually that becomes hanging out of their own accord

then the next thing you know, baxter is asking cove out on a date

oooh yes, i see it more clearly. cove and baxter would be a delicious slowburn for sure, it's drinking and leaving no molecules

i ship opal and yusuf together and i'm really hoping something comes from that when we get the full game however comma.... opal and cliff? i kinda see it and it kinda eats

outside of vianca's canonical gf, vianca and liz give power couple vibes. i don't think i need to expand on that, we all know i'm right and we all know it would eat

if i can't be with my autumn queen tamarack, i would want her to date serenity? they just seem like they would be the cutest cottage core gf/goth gf combination and the two friends in the group that everyone goes to for advice/drama. they gossip about it over tea and still they're the most wholesome couple you know

cove and tamarack also just seem like they'd be very cute together? summer boyfriend meets autumn girlfriend. in a childhood neighbors to friends to lovers type beat, i know they wouldn't get along as their step 1 selves. cove would be pretty put off by how loud and wild tam was at first. plus, neither of them would really like the same activities as the other

tamarack finds the beach boring and stagnant because she's a forest girlie and it isn't like cove is one to just be in the forest and forage mushrooms all day. but during one night when cove tries running away, strangely enough it's the loud girl he doesn't normally enjoy being with sticking with him the whole time and a friendship is birthed from that

step 2, cove is so there for tamarack when she is dealing with everything with her parents. and by step 3, he's telling tamarack he's been in love with with her since they were teens

chef's kiss, cove/tamarack hits different

step 1 derek sees this:

and immediately falls in love, i don't think i need to expand further on that. y'all know how derek is and i feel like everything i said about cove comforting tam can be applied here as well. he'd try to shoot his shot with making a marriage promise with tam too i see it very clearly

and, don't get mad at me for repeating myself but

step 1 derek sees this:

and immediately falls in love. but since qiu is a popular kid, good luck, my guy. at least derek can rest assured knowing that qiu's his good buddy and slightly more special than the rest. i think with qiu he might feel too nervous to do the marriage promise thing since qiu is a popular kid and who knows if he's already received a ton of those

in a scenario where they aren't close as step 1 folk though or qiu pushes derek away during their step 2 phase, derek is hurt but he still tries putting in the effort to rebuild that bridge, letting qiu know he's there regardless of what they're going through until finally... qiu reaches back

they had their ups and their downs but qiu appreciates derek not giving up on them and sticking with them through the hard times

by the time qiu is back to their normal rizzler self, derek's busy with sports and it is hard for them to meet up with each other but they stay in contact. but step 4 would be when they get together because derek let's it drop he had a crush on qiu when they were kids "haha definitely over it NOW though" (he is not)

qiu gains a crush on derek between steps 2 and 3 but never said anything because they kinda felt after being such a jerk to derek during a good chunk of high school, he doesn't deserve to pursue him but after hearing derek had a crush on him qiu decides they're gonna shoot their shot (happy ending ofc though)

i'm leaving terry and randy out of this though, they're too fucking cute for me to separate

[romione-trope-fest]

2024 Masterlist

Soulmates

Red Rings by @honouraryweasley12

The Way I Love(d) You by @adenei

I Wish It Was Only A Teaspoon by Iris Blanche (ao3 link)

Something To Believe In by @voldemorts-tap-shoes

When You Wish Upon A Star by @adenei

OOTP Missing Moments

Hufflepuff (Tea) Search Party by @cowahbull

3am by @be11atrixthestrange

What’s In A Gift? by @adenei

Thunderstorms by @mertronus

How To Parent Gryffindors by @voldemorts-tap-shoes

The Perfect Pair by @adenei

Perfect Prefect Present by @nena-96

Ocean Eyes by @flaming-brown-witch

Whiskey on Rounds by @be11atrixthestrange

Fake Not Dating

Call It What You Want by @adenei

The One Where Ron and Hermione are Fake Not Dating by @voldemorts-tap-shoes

Sneaky by @redandbrown

The One Where Everybody Finds Out by @alltoowellread

Before Daybreak by @flaming-brown-witch

He's Gonna Know by @adenei

Cockblocker Harry

Reconnect by @edie-k

There Was Only One Git by @nena-96

The Bug Who Lived by @edie-k

Love and War by @be11atrixthestrange

Can't Do This Without You by @adenei

Stand Still by @flaming-brown-witch

Go For Two by @edie-k

The Talk by @voldemorts-tap-shoes

Never Been Privy To by @reallybeth9

Home Remedy by @honouraryweasley12

Only One Bed

Rouge by @hinny-canons

One Bed by @voldemorts-tap-shoes

Mine by @flaming-brown-witch

In Your Arms by @hpfanted14

Shell Cottage by @adenei

Put Your Thawing Mind To Rest by @my-patronus-is-a-champagne-glass

Rock, Paper, Scissors by Rennervator (ao3 link)

Sleep Hexed by @cheesyficwriter

The New Normal by @my-patronus-is-a-champagne-glass

Muggle AU

Magic Matches by @katenoteight

Enchanted To Meet You by @nena-96

Capture My Heart by @adenei

Not Another Statistic by @nena-96

Let's Go by @flaming-brown-witch

Do You Like Chocolate? by @mertronus

Have An Ice Day by @voldemorts-tap-shoes

The Girl From The Bar by @be11atrixthestrange

Weasley Weddings

Speak Now by @adenei

Finish by @voldemorts-tap-shoes

Six Weasley Weddings by @be11atrixthestrange

The Storm Before The Calm by @my-patronus-is-a-champagne-glass

A Wild Romania Wedding by @nena-96

Say Yes To Heaven by @flaming-brown-witch

[iamnmbr3]

what are your thoughts on a Deathly Hallows AU where draco joins the trio on their quest? plausible/not plausible? more interesting for draco or no? i honestly wish sometimes jkr had branched out from the trio and brought draco in, but idk if it could've been pulled off.

I think that would be delightfully great fun. (One of the many things that could've also spiced up canon a bit and broken up the interminable camping scenes with a bit more drama and tension). I've even thought of writing one. If we're sticking to canon I could see it happening after the Manor sequence.

Like maybe Dobby shows up in the cell a little earlier, while Draco's down there to get Griphook. At which point Harry realizes that in order to stop the alarm being sounded they will have to put Draco out of commission. Of course he also realizes that this means he will take the brunt of the blame for the escape. So naturally he opts for the incredibly impractical solution of overpowering Draco and grabbing his wand, but then stunning him and having Dobby take him along to Shell Cottage too as their prisoner. C'mon Ron. He can't just leave him there to die. He would do the same for anyone. No really. Ok maybe not Wormtail or any of the other Death Eaters but honestly there's nothing special or different about how he feels towards Draco. There isn't.

And then of course they can't send him back because he'd be in even more trouble. But surely they can't take him with them. Even if Harry's sure deep down he's feeling conflicted they can't trust him. But he is a Black by blood. And maybe they realize he could be useful in getting into Bellatrix's vault. And besides, they can't really leave him with Bill and Fleur; that puts them at risk and this was Harry's stupid decision so they shouldn't be stuck with it. Cue uneasy alliance and growing bond and Draco eventually making his choice and saving Harry. Bonus points if in this version of the Room of Requirement Sequence Draco chooses his side and hurls the diadem into the fire.

Alternately, another way it could go down is Voldemort figures out the the stuff about the Wandlore much earlier in canon, and unlike in canon he makes the connection that Draco is the Master of the Elder wand, not Snape, because he disarmed Dumbledore. So he decided that obviously he needs to pop into Malfoy Manor for a quick spot of murder. And Harry sees this in a vision. So when they stage their escape he takes Draco with them because of course he does. Now that he's disarmed him he's pretty sure he's the Master of the Elder Wand and that's fine because Voldemort already wants to kill him. But he's also pretty sure that Voldemort will still kill Draco, esp bc he's 1) really mad about Harry's escape 2) because he now suspects Draco of maybe helping Harry Potter and 3) because he wants to kill all potential claimants on the wand just to be sure.

Obviously he doesn't want to tell Draco any of this so at first they keep him tied up and blindfolded and under the Imperius Curse. But Draco's fighting it and Harry hates holding someone under and Unforgivable like that. And it's not practical. But they also can't have him pressing his Mark. Eventually they do start loosening some of the restrictions. And also tell him enough to get him to believe Voldemort will murder him if he finds them. And again. Cue uneasy alliance and redemption and eventual drarry.

And there are many more ways you could do it as well. So yes. Very here for it.

[smolvenger]

A Court of Mischief and Purpose Chapter Eight (Loki x fem! Reader A Court of Thorns and Roses Hiddlesverse AU)

Series Summary: Sarah J Maas's A Court of Thorns and Roses series reimagined with Tom Hiddleston's various characters- Especially the events in the second book: A Court of Mist and Fury. England. 1885. You are dying of tuberculosis right before your upcoming wedding to the Lusty Vicar of Aldwinter, Will Ransome. As you lay on what could be your deathbed, the god of mischief Loki appears before you with a deal. He will heal you in time for the wedding...if you spend a week of every month with him.

Chapter Summary: A plan is made for Stella's rescue. Hal takes you to a tavern. And you and Thomas must face the test of The Weaver's Cottage.

Series Masterlist

Word Count: >7K

Chapter Warnings: Drunkness, mentions of kidnapping, and Loki getting jealous. A creepy ending- Happy Halloween, y'all!

A03//My Ko-Fi//My Etsy Shop//Masterlist//Wattpad

Taglist: @asgards-princess-of-mischief @jennyggggrrr @five-miles-over @fictive-sl0th @ladycamillewrites @villainousshakespeare @holdmytesseract @eleniblue @twhxhck @lokisgoodgirl @lovelysizzlingbluebird @raqnarokr @holymultiplefandomsbatman @michelleleewise @wolfsmom1 @cheekyscamp @mochie85 @fandxmslxt69

“He has her! Grendel has kidnapped Stella!” you cried out loud. You put a hand to your mouth in shock.

“What on earth do you mean? What is a Grendel? Who is he?” your mother asked.

The paper began to shake in your hand. Heads all turned to you.

“Does he have her?” Mr. Harris cried, you saw tears in his eyes too.

“He is…someone who is…he’s…he’s dangerous. And ambitious. He’s a…a monster, to say the least…and he has her,” you explained simply, tears again falling down your face.

Jonathan opened his hand to silently ask to receive the paper. He looked at it once then returned it to you. He promptly got up. His jaw was tight and his hands crumpled to fists by his side.

“Mr. and Mrs. Harris. May I inspect your house? There might be more clues as to where she is,” he asked.

“Yes…you may…” Mr. Harris nodded.

Jonathan immediately walked out the door and followed the Harris’s straight to their house. Your steps paused before the door. When you checked the grandfather clock, it struck 11- you knew your now ex-fiancee liked to walk in the late mornings. So…he must be gone now, unaware of the chaos here. Still, you peeked out the door. Checking the streets for the sight of a green-striped scarf. There was none. You opened the door and hurried over to Stella’s house behind them. 

The house was in complete disarray. Chairs were knocked over. Pillows are tossed around everywhere. The feathers from the chairs had dusted the ground like snow. You saw bootprints on the floor. Jonathan searched around each one, looking carefully at the prints. Their dirt scraped all over the dark wood. He touched them, studying them as he looked over each particle of dust. Then he got back up.

“May I see her room? he asked.

Her mother nodded her yellow head, blonde hairs already in disarray from their smooth, neat bun. She made no effort to wipe them back into place.

Jonathan hurried to Stella’s room and you followed him. There were papers from the letters she was writing. Cerulean cushions ripped to shreds. One of her brown boxes was knocked over- her tiny blue shells and tiny blue spoons spilled onto the floor. With a silent sob, you got down and put it back in. You saw scratches against the wallpaper, and small pictures on the wall knocked down. There must have been a struggle. Jonathan went through every bit of her room, searching under the blankets of her bed and through her wardrobe. 

She fought…she must have fought a little….and she told us where she was- who had her…oh! Poor Stella! Why are you in so much trouble lately?! I could shake you! You thought. 

Jonathan looked at the desk and saw an envelope. He urged you over. It had your name in large, distinct letters. He handed it to you.

“Is this her hand?” he asked.

It was too…too heavy. Too jagged and pointed. 

“No…I don’t think it is.,” you answered, shaking your head.

“Then it is not Stella’s letter to you…” he concluded.

He opened the seal. Right inside was a folded piece of paper. But once he unfolded it before you…it was blank. Nothing but the yellow, rectangular stationary. Stella’s parents came up behind and grabbed it eagerly. 

“Nothing on it…” he confirmed.

“Nothing! Why nothing?!” her mother cried. “It’s nothing but rubbish! It won’t get my child back!” Before she fell down, sobbing in a heap on the floor. The sound made you feel as if your heart was being ripped into ribbons. Her husband went to comfort her, though he was crying too. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“God’s blood! What misery!” Hal cried, his face as astonished as yours as you returned to Asgard and explained what happened.

All gathered around to look at the blank piece of paper. It was your private space for meetings. A dining area with a large wooden table and chairs. High marble walls and columns signature of the palace. But with doors shut and locked tight for the secrets within.

You were still shaking. Thomas suggested some chamomile tea which you sipped on pitifully as you sat. Thomas sat next to you with some tea of his own. The white tray and set looked so lovely, peaceful, and delicate contrasting with the dark wood. He added a sugar cube into his cup and drank, attempting and failing to come up with a comforting phrase. Robert brought out a cigarette to smoke. It made the air smell sour. Hal was trying to look at the paper for any hint. Sometimes Loki would look at the paper himself. He tried to use his magic on it- but nothing. Loki was crossing his arms as he leaned against a wall. He was thinking as his eyes scanned over all of them. Jonathan stood frozen as he watched each of you, his jaw still tight. He had not said a word since you returned to Asgard.

“Stella…She could be…be dead by now…” you mused pitifully, staring into the bright yellow of the tea.

“YN, call it intuition…but perhaps not,” Loki attempted to console. “Grendel must be keeping her, and he must have wanted you to see this little scrap. Why else put your name on it? Perhaps there is something on it. But the key is to know why. Here- let’s hand our dear lady the letter, gentlemen.”

Setting the tea down, you grabbed the thin, yellow paper in your hands from Hal. There was nothing- nothing. Grendel was mocking you. Yes, that was why he made it! To give you false hope. You crumbled it with your fists into a ball.

You put your hands to the edges of the paper.

“Stupid, stupid thing!” you ranted at it.

You were ready to tear it to shreds. But Hal put a hand over yours.

“Sweet lady- we must be careful…if Grendel left this, he must have will’d it,” Hal mused.

Was Grendel mocking you!? Leaving your name on the envelope and putting blank paper on it to give you false hope for a minute? You felt yourself get white-hot with your fear, your grief, and your rage. It went down your forehead to the paper in your hands.

You used your fire and impulsively lit it up.-the men all gasped and turned to you.  

But it didn’t burn. Not a bit. There was no smell of burnt paper and not one inch of the ball looked black. It was on fire- but the paper was still that tan yellow. The flames an orange orb around the paper ball, nothing more.

“Norns,” Loki muttered in amazement. 

When you stopped it, it was still an untouched heap. As if the fire never brushed against it. You uncrumpled it, opening it up. It was crinkled…but it wasn’t blank. 

Black ink stretched on it. It made a series of streets. Little squares that became houses. One had an X. Then from that square emerged dashes that became a path.

“It’s a map! A map of Aldwinter!” you realized out loud. The men gathered like chickens to all watch over your shoulder. Even Jonathan hurried from his frozen state to watch.

 It led out of the town into the woods at the bottom of the map. Represented by trees. The dashes then paused right in the heart of the woods. Two lines crossed each other, forming an X.

“Then…it’s a map to where they are. And where they have Miss Harris,” Thomas concluded.

There was dead silence in the room. You clutched the map to your chest and turned to Loki.

“Please- please take me there now, Loki! I have to find her! I have to save her!” you begged.

“My dear, I normally would. I do not doubt your abilities…but, why would Grendel want you. Not her parents, not anyone else, but you to find it? Why would he make sure only your magic worked to show the map?” he pointed out. 

It hit you.

“It’s a trap. For me,” you said.

Loki gave a sad nod of his head. Hal took another look at the envelope and then back at you.

“My lady- I must agree. Think about it…remember what the prophet bespoke. Grendel is interested in you. He came here for this purpose. He discovered who your companion was.  He, upon my life, is luring you…” Hal began.

“Using Stella as bait,” you said quietly, finishing the thought.

You set the map down. Your throat felt scratchy and your breaths were fast, almost hyperventilating. You turned to them to stand up. All of you in a circle around each other.

“You’re right…but…we can’t just leave her! They could…could torture her, or….or worse! Don’t any of you understand in battles what happens to women who are captured?!” you cried. Your stomach turned with the realization. 

“I don’t want you to be their captive too, Y/N. None of us do. Perhaps we should all go,” Robert suggested. 

“We cannot all charge unprepared into that camp!” Loki refused.

Jonathan walked over to the table. He grabbed the map and studied it. His intense, determined face turned to look at all of you. Then, he finally finished the debate. 

“I’m getting her back.”

Robert said, “You might die.”

Jonathan had anger in his glare at the doctor. He only repeated, “I’m. Getting. Her. Back.”

Loki raised an eyebrow and smiled.

“Do you think you could get them to let you in? Win them over…then find her and get her back?” Loki asked.

“I’m going to do it,” Jonathan said.

“I agree- if any of us goes after poor little Stella, It should be the most determined one out of all of us- the one most used to danger and sneaking around for damsels in distress.”

Jonathan’s eyes looked a little sad. He went to you, his voice soft.

“YN, The last time I got involved in bigger things, an innocent woman was killed….Here again, another blameless woman is caught in the crossfire. But I swear to you, she will not suffer Sophie’s fate. I won’t let it…can you trust me? To do right this time?”

You nodded your head.

“Yes, yes I do….And back to her family?” you asked.

“Grendel already knows where she lives…” Thomas pointed out.

Another heavy pause fell.

“We’ll take her to Asgard. Now it’s the safest place for her to stay.” Loki said.

The plan was set. Jonathan was going to walk into camp. He would pretend to be a recruit hoping to join Grendel’s forces. Then, when their backs were turned to him, he would find Stella and bring her to Asgard immediately. They already knew where she was- Asgard would be the safest place for her for the time being. 

Thomas hurried to his workshop and he retrieved a small pocket watch.

“Loki infused it with magic. Once you have her, click the watch to midnight and it will let out a signal for Loki to create a portal. Or to signal that you need more help.”

Thomas also brought out a steel dagger. Small with an onyx handle- but the blade was shiny and sharp.

“This too, Mr. Pine. Should the odd magical creature attack, you shall not be unarmed. It shall blast Loki’s magic for an attack. And it’s sharp enough to kill if need be,” he said.

Jonathan felt the dagger in his hand and then sheathed it. 

Loki then conjured him back in the old blue suit of the time period. You hurried up to your room and fetched the picture of everyone on the beach. You brought it back and gave it to Jonathan before the portal was made.

“Here- so you remember what she looks like! It has been a while since our visit- but Stella is the one with her hair in a braid!” you offered.

Jonathan studied the picture and then placed it in the inner breast pocket of his suit.

“That will be helpful, thank you, Y/N,” he said, giving a small smile. 

Everyone turned around to him in that meeting room. He met all of your eyes

“I will get in quick. Fool them. And get her out by whatever means necessary,” he promised everyone.

Loki circled his hands. A yellow portal to your home appeared before him.

“Enjoy your moment of being a hero,” he said, one finger of his hand drawing a circle in the air to keep the portal open.

Jonathan’s eyes steeled forward. He never looked left or right but straight. With a powerful determination, as if nothing else in any realm could tear him apart from his mission, he walked. Walked powerfully, as if he dominated each step he took. As if he would kill anyone who got in his way.

He walked into the portal and headed off to Midgard, to your town. 

You didn’t know what deities now ruled over Stella’s or Jonathan’s fate.  But you said a silent prayer. One of gratitude for his bravery. Then one for her protection. Loki flicked his hand and the portal vanished. Shrinking into a tiny circle and then flickering away like the last ember of a candle blown out. 

Everyone let out a breath they weren’t aware they were holding. Looking at each other in amazement.

“Now, it’s all a simple matter of waiting,” Loki announced.

He was right. Yet your heart was still racing. Your mind racing too. What was going on by now? Yes, it was only a minute, but still…You looked down onto the floor, your palms clammy.

You sat down onto the table, lowering your head onto it. 

“They could both die….I don’t know if even my embroidery will distract me,” you sighed.

You felt a hand touch your back in comfort. When you looked up it was Loki’s hand, his features softening. His hand moved to your shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze.

“You underestimate Jonathan. The man fooled someone as powerful as Roper. He killed men with his bare hands. And I assure you, he is the one most qualified for this little quest.”

Prince Hal walked over and approached you, he leaned down so he could meet your eyes.

“Well now…sitting and dwelling is not going to work. And if there is naught to do, there is naught- YN! Let us go out! I still owe you a drink!” Hal promised with a smile.

You looked up at him, your mouth opening a little.

“A drink?” you repeated.

“We should distract ourselves and head out to the Angan Tavern! It’s the best one here! How about it?” he offered.

He turned towards the remaining variants. Loki scowled.

“No- I have a book I’m rather interested in. I’m right at the climax and I wish to read how it ends,” Loki replied.

Thomas gave a small, delighted smile. “I could try it, just one drink,” he replied.

“Why, fuck yes the Angan! What are we doing loitering here when we could be there!” Robert cheered. 

Hal went back to you. “Doesn’t it sound nice, YN? Just a drink?” 

He offered his hand up. You accepted it. Loki began to glower quietly as you did.

“Alright…let’s go then…” you replied.

Ignoring the god’s death glare, Hal smiled and led all of you out of the palace to the Asgard streets.

It was the evening when the sky was pink and the sun turned orange when its light peeked between buildings. The air was sweet and cool and full of the smells of roast spits on turning spikes over fires. Residents of Asgard went about their business. Dressed in their robes, tunics, and leathers.  Children were playing in the streets, laughing. Their mothers called out for them to return home for supper. There were statues so tall that you only reached up to their foot. Hal practically strutted his way down. Then he found the wooden sign of the tavern- an image of a smiling moon with lettering that read “ANGORN.”

“Our Night Manager cannot be the sober one among us this time. So this time, it should be Thomas! If one person in our circle needs to get drunk the most, I’ll be it’s YN!” Robert teased, waving his hand over to the party.

Hal held the door open gallantly as you walked in, the men behind you. It was a wooden, rustic tavern. It felt medieval- so unlike the pub back home which was dark, dirty, and damp. You heard a fiddle playing a jig. Customers went about. Red-cheeked and laughing.

So much life. Bustle. Carefree chatter. No fear of death. For oneself or others. Only the joy of the moment. It radiated through the place as you joined the others to fetch someone to bring you ale. The fiddle began to play again with a few other instruments. People gathered in pairs at a clear spot in the middle of the tavern.

“Here-YN! Dance with me!” Hal offered with a hand outstretched again. “Will you?” 

“Why, of course!” you agreed with a smile. 

You took his hand and found that the dances were not hard to learn. In fact, they were very similar to the country dances you learned. Hal was not the best dance partner, but he was enthusiastic. He might have mixed up left and right. But he was smiling. 

 You forgot your fears- your growing powers, your friend in danger. There was nothing more you could do. Just dance and drink. 

The ale tasted fresh, even bubbly in your mouth. It was as if the liquid sparkled all over your tongue. A flavor like crisp apples in the harvest. You could feel it sliding down with only a faint burn into your belly. Robert was already chugging down his in greedy gulps. Thomas sipped his politely.

Hal however, was clearly the favorite patron of the tavern. He would grin and laugh at people’s jokes. He was relaxed. He told stories, waving his hand to gesticulate the best parts. And he would bring so many people over to meet you all. You shook so many hands and so many names were given they flew by you. 

“I was talking to this fellow- Narfi is his name. He’s a tailor, he is fond of dresses! Makes some of the most beautiful ones! We were quite good friends here- he should come back! Maybe Y/N should consider some! Or we all should! Go about in robes like we’re all Romans again!” Hal chatted.

“I don’t think it’d flatter me,” Thomas replied.

 Hal burst into laughter. He put up his second ale and chugged half of it. 

The song ended and the dancers clapped. You both headed back to your table. Robert was gearing up for more dancing and his third drink. Thomas had already ordered food before all of you. Hal guided you to another clumsy dance with him. And what did you care for his abilities? The music was joyous and you felt like flying as you passed between other dancers to return to him. Once you returned, you were sweaty and breathless from the exercise. 

“I could use a glass of water,” you commented. 

“I could use a glass of wine-” Hal quipped.

The dinner was served. Yoast pork, potatoes with thick mounds of butter with thick slices of cheese. Thomas already was getting out his fork and knife to cut it into small bits. Robert took big bites, talking about how hungry he was. Hal stabbed his potato with a fork and eagerly shoved it into his mouth. One of the servers brought a large glass of red wine which he began to drink on. 

You turned over to him, gathering some food onto your plate to eat.

“Hal…you sure do go to a lot of peasant taverns for a prince. A crown prince. Do you do this in your time?” you prodded. You didn’t remember too much of your history lessons in school about Henry the Fifth’s life before he was king. 

“Yes- all the time!” Hal answered.

“I have heard it said you are known as the rebellious prince….” Thomas commented.

“I am, sir. But…”

A serious shadow fell over Hal’s face.

“It was never my intention to be this…shameful, bad thing.”

You began to eat the warm food. The pork was of a cheaper kind but it was still juicy and flavorful. The butter and cheese complimented the potatoes wonderfully. You chewed on them as you listened to Hal explain. 

“My plan was…to pretend to be the drunk, wayward son, the rebel…and that way, when my time came to reclaim the throne, I would cast it off. I would never see my tavern companions again. Reveal myself as competent. Wise. No matter how badly I failed as king- I would always be seen as great. Not a riotous son…”

“So, a good king they say by default?” Thomas asked.

Hal nodded.

“That…that sounds like a lot…and they believe you are that riotous son…” you said.

Hal’s face gravened.

“Yes…yes they do. And I found I made friends. Good friends. Friends I missed. I enjoyed myself with whores. And came back for another one the next day. Before I knew it…I told myself today would be the end. The last day. Then…it’d start again. I…I’ve become what I pretended. My own father scolds me. Struck me once. And told me how he wished for a fellow named Hotspur  to be his son…the one trying to usurp the very throne of my father…”

You froze and stared with wide eyes.

“Hal…That’s too harsh for a father to say!” you gasped.

The rebellious prince had a grim twist to his mouth.

“And this, my dear sirs and lady…this is why I am a part of this quest for Grendel. I have dishonored myself so much that I must gain honor. I crave it. If it is bad to want it, then I am the worst sinner of all. What better honor than saving our delicate little worlds? Then…I will show them, show my father…how fit I am to be king…” he explained.

He exhaled deeply through his nose. He picked up his wine again.

“Even, if I merely show all of you how one uses a sword…I may help all of you,” he said. He gave a small toast and had a sip. 

You nodded your head, leaning closer to him. 

“I think…I think you are. You’re doing everything you can. And that’s good, Hal. I think you will. Your father will hear of this and if he believes you, you will gain honor again,” you replied.

His mouth became a small smile, nodding his head at you.

“Thank you, my lady. Now, let us speak no more of it. I wish only for mirth now,”  he said before taking his drink and chugging more down.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

When Hal could barely walk after his fourth glass of wine, all of you agreed it was time to go back home. Robert and you were still functional. Thomas sober. Hal was muttering, and laughing at almost everything as he leaned over Thomas’s shoulder. It was slow due to Hal’s hobbling, but all of you made it back to the palace.

 You had gathered through the marble entrance into the halls with your rooms. Loki immediately turned around to see all of you. It was late at night, but he was still dressed and wide awake. His arms were crossed and his lips tight. 

“Oh! Green-dressed miscreant, dear bully, you! We had the time of our lives! Well- so did I! You get there every time you go there!” Hal laughed at Loki. 

Loki placed his hands on his hips, his eyes almost blaring red.

“Hal! What is this? Just this!” he questioned. His eyes fluttered over to you. “You did not…harm or do any mischief to our YN, did you?” 

“You’re the one known….known…known f-f-for mischief!” Hal said. 

“Or did he…he try to…to charm you? Seduce you?” Loki asked, looking into your eyes with a wild desperation.

“What! No!” you cried.

“Just some fun! Especially for our…our sweet lady! ” Hal said, busting into giggles.

Loki narrowed his eyes. He then charged right to Hal. The godly prince glared close into the face of the mortal one and his tone grew bitter.  

“Hal! I’ve had enough of these antics! You’re as bad as my brother!”

Hal looked up, eyes still glazed but his smile dropping. “What…how come?” he asked.

“Look at you- the crown prince and future ruler of an entire nation! Friends everywhere you go! A father who cares for you! He gets angry only because he wishes the best for you! Born to be the first most valued and wanted son in your realm! And…you waste your time whoring and theiving and frolicking around!? Your old enemy Hotspur is a fool! Just battle him and have it done with! Don’t you realize how simple it is, Hal? Yet you loiter around drinking! Will you be like this when Grendel arrives? You’re the most skilled mortal fighter I know other than Jonathan and yet you do nothing but wander about taverns drinking all night and sleeping until noon! When you can be the great hero prince of your country, like-like-:

“Like you wish to be?” you interrupted. 

Loki kept still in place, the words out of his throat. He then looked over to you and then back to Hal. Hal looked absolutely white. There was no laughter in his voice as if the drunken prince was no longer drunk.

“I will prove it, sir. Give me a chance, and I will prove it. To my father. And to you.” he promised.

Loki took a step away from Hal, his shoulders slumping. You sent out a thought since his shield was down.

“Apologize to him, Loki!” 

“You’re sounding like my mother,” was the god’s reply. 

“How are you going to go about your little plan if your own circle hates you?” you asked

Loki turned his head down, then back up at Hal who still swayed where he stood. Thomas and Robert kept looking silently between them.

“Hal…I am sorry…matters of my heart got to me,” he said.

“Well, I shall forgive you, someday…perhaps the morrow…no, it's so late, it’s already the morrow…” Hal said, his voice becoming a mumble.

Thomas helped him to his room and Loki stormed back to his.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

That next day, you woke up later than usual from the late night. The deep taste and fretting of what would become of Stella now only a quiet memory. Not that your anxiety had gone away. There was still no signal for Jonathan. Right after you finished eating, you decided practicing your fire with Loki would be a welcome distraction from worrying. So for hours, that was all you did. 

The indoor training ground was now made fire-proof, thanks to Frigga’s own magic. There was a line of targets set up as one Loki pulled it out from a corner and the other one guided him there. 

“Now, go on and hit them with your fire!” Loki instructed. His duplicate set up the last target and then faded away to mist. 

You walked before the targets. You kept your eyes square on the center of one Then you lifted your hands and released a flame with the breath. They went like arrows in thin, orange spurts. You would observe the result, then walk to the next one.

 Some missed the mark of the center. Some only got scorched on the side, as if a great creature took a bite. But it seemed… a quarter of them had a hold burned out into the center like a doughnut.

“Very well, YN….just see about that one! There is one more!” he gestured to an extra target that appeared out of thin air in his golden, magic light.

“You conjured one? Really?” you asked.

He kept the cheekiness of his smile.

“Why wouldn’t I?”

Little did he know that you had a trick of your own. You looked at the target, feeling yourself grin. Concentrating, you fixed your hand to point to its center. You shot out a flame there but as it landed on the target. Then the flames vanished. It was as if the target was never even burnt. 

A dark eyebrow of his lifted and his smile dropped.

“What was that?” he asked.

“I realized I could do something- wait a minute!” you dared. You looked back at the target. You relaxed yourself, focusing your energy on it.

“Now- light up!” you instructed.

The target burst into flame right at the center. Loki slowly grew a smile on his face watching how you controlled the timing. He turned his dark head towards you.

“May I use that phrase you dislike?” he asked.

“You may now,” you said.

“You are becoming quite the sorceress Y/N, darling.”

You gave him a proud curtsy. You felt as if your grin could reach your ears.

“Oh, thank you!” you replied.

Loki looked at the targets. He scratched his chin before he turned to you.

“In fact…you and Thomas are especially improving! The man had some strength, but knew nothing of how to fight…but I think you both are ready…” he said.

You ordered the flames to stop. And this time, the target was burnt. 

“Ready? For….for what? For Grendel?” you asked.

“No…a test.”

He gestured to have you follow outside to the courtyard. It was a bright sunny day. Loki found Thomas practicing his sword fighting with Robert. They were now moving onto blades and the clang of metal rang like bells in your ears. Hal was still hungover in his chambers. Robert was sweating heavily in his white exercise outfit.  Thomas was in his own shirt and overalls with the sleeves rolled up as they parried. 

Loki began to clap and the two paused. 

Robert wiped off the sweat from his forehead with his arm. Thomas merely got a handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed the sweat off of him.

“Why- if you think so. I’m not the one who gives them,” he replied.

The Baronet, a little flushed, looked at Loki with wide eyes.

“Thomas, Y/N, Robert went through it. Hal and Jonathan passed within minutes. So, no need to worry,” he began.

“What kind of test is it?” you asked.

“The warriors and the magicians of Asard go through to prove they have learned their training and can complete a task while fighting an enemy- it’s called the Weaver’s Cottage,” he explained.

“The Weaver’s Cottage?” you repeated. 

“What will it consist of? Someone to fight?” Thomas asked. His jaw tightened. Loki merely folded his arms.

“Why, quite brilliant of you. No wonder they call you ‘Sharpe.’ But yes! The Weaver…she…” 

He paused for effect., lowering his voice like telling a ghost story to a child. 

“Some say she was once a Death Goddess. We only know so much about her. She is blind but powerful. Senses around her. She is fond of eating flesh. Elves, mortals, gods, giants…she keeps knives with her. To cut up and devour.”

Your stomach curled.

Releasing one hand, he conjured an image of a little wooden cottage. It was made of dark wood with a chimney that produced steam. Windows so grimy you couldn’t peek in. You and Thomas stared dumbfounded at it.

“She lives here to do her never-ending spinning. She is blind. But she can hear you. You must retrieve the golden box inside without alerting her. Once you get it, you flee. If she senses you- you must battle her.”

“Is there something in the box?” Thomas asked.

“Yes. What is the prize? We never know! It changes every time!  The box even alters its shape. For some, it was a large box with a cloak inside, for others a book!” Loki explained. 

He flicked his wrist and the cottage vanished.

“What does she look like?” you asked.

Loki shrugged.

“It depends! All who go in see something different. An old woman. A little girl. A man. One’s father. Other times a beast. But you will know it’s her- for she sits and weaves. Robert- what did she look like to you?” he asked.

Robert’s hands fell to his sides. 

“An old student of mine…” he answered.

“Student, you were a teacher?” you asked.

“A professor. Taught at the medical school,” he explained briefly. 

Though part of you was very curious. Whose form would she appear as when you looked upon her? Would she change between you and Thomas and switch between two forms? You already had your suspicions on whose form she would take with you. 

“I say- you both work together and retrieve the box. It should be a little easier.” Loki suggested. 

Thomas nodded his head. “I think we can handle it. We will look after each other,” he said with a glance at you.

“I say we hurry you both there! Get it quick and over with! How would you like another little trip, my dear? Tired of the city and craving fresh air?” Loki asked.

“Alright- take us to the cottage,” you replied.

He transported you with magic over to the woods outside of the city. It felt a little crisper, and colder out there. The wind rustled through the trees. A brook babbled. Birds flitted and chirped amongst the branches. However as you walked further through on a dirt path, the birds were quieter. The trees grew in largeness to where their shade blocked out more of the sun. 

“Here- YN. Then you must rely on magic. Thomas, unless you have a little surprise for us, you have no magic of your own. You are only permitted one weapon. Seeing as how you were using a sword, would you like that?” 

“I would.”

Loki conjured a sword with an ebony-colored hilt and a sheath. The Baronet wrapped it around his waist, the sheathed sword only gently hitting against his side.

“Just go north here-I shall sit by this tree and wait for all of you. Just- cry out if you need another pair of hands. I’ll be glad to help…unless you would like me to stay,” Loki suggested.

“Really? Ready to have us walk to our deaths?” you scoffed.

You wished to call him a pig again, like before. But you found that…you could not. The world curled on your tongue, never quite escaping as easily as before.

“I said you could cry out if things were tough. Shout through your own powers, Y/N”

He leaned against a tree, folding his arms with a casual smile. 

“Unless you just want me to follow you because you like the sight of me.”

You rolled your eyes at him. You looked over at Thomas.

“Well, let us go. Which way is north?” you asked.

Loki gestured to north and both of you set out. Though there was a nervousness between you and Thomas. As if the Weaver could sense you both even from that far away. On you went, careful not to even step on any sticks even walking.

There was the sight of the dark cottage. The smoke from the chimney and the grimy windows. There were two steps to a front porch. On it was a rocking chair. It budged with the wind, creaking. There was little sunlight here. Tall oaks and their leaves made it seem darker. Only the quiet howl of the wind. Though it seemed as if it was years since anyone sat in it.

Taking in a deep breath, you looked at Thomas. He gave you a nod, his face determined and fierce.

Slowly, very slowly, you opened the door. So quiet as to not creak. What light there was spilled onto the cottage’s entrance. You could see cobwebs everywhere. It was like an old attic inside. Old bookshelves with books that had spider webs all over them. A rocking horse stood still. The horse’s mouth opened in a silent scream. Giant white blankets covered over mounds of things. The only light, besides what little could filter through the windows, was a crackling, high fireplace with a furnace ablaze. 

No Weaver to be found. But you were not going to tempt fate. 

But where was this golden box? You and Thomas began to split apart to search. Your feet heavy and slow. Making sure not to step on the wrong beam of wood. You bent down and peeked beneath the blankets. There were jars of eyeballs, human hands, and skulls. You covered your mouth to stifle a scream of shock. Then promptly put the blanket back. 

You gathered yourself to look at each forgotten belonging. The book piles. The dusty lamps. Cold from never being used. Stiff wooden chairs. No golden box. The light from the fireplace only showed so much. There was space in the cottage and the far corners were in the dark. But you would need some light to see-perhaps use your own flame as a light source if you still hadn’t found it. 

You peeked over at Thomas as he searched through the bookshelves and under the blankets of things as well. He met your eyes and shook his head.

Then, you found something glimmering in the corner of your eye. A star amidst the dark night sky. Your senses went out -and something in you itched, urged. On the wall next to the fireplace was another bookshelf. Something on it glittered. Something gold.

Walking over a few more steps, you waved to Thomas. He turned his head. You mouthed “here!” and pointed in that direction. He quietly followed behind you. Then you felt him tug at your sleeve. He pointed a hand to the other corner of the room-the dark one. 

Your heart stopped. There in the shadows, there was a hooded figure. Using a spinning wheel with a spindle that never stopped twirling. It was so quiet, you couldn’t hear her work. Her hood was pulled over and her back was to you. All the more reason she couldn’t sense you.

One step closer revealed that on the bookshelf, away from where the other books gathered dust, was a box. A golden, glittering box. Beautiful and bright. With a smile, you reached forward and grabbed it, turning to Thomas. 

 You heard The Weaver from her wheel sing softly. A feminine voice. A tune that seemed like a lullaby. 

“Let the Wind blow kindly In the sails of your dreams…”

You felt Thomas clasp your hand. You turned around and saw that his jaw dropped, yet he said nothing. His hand shook in yours. You tilted your head. What was wrong with him? The quest was done! You had it!

“And the moon light your journey…”

His head turned to face the Weaver. His breathing was shallow. Eyes never leaving the figure. You tried to tug at his other hand to go. That it was time to go! But he kept still.

“And bring you to me…”

You tugged at him. Pulled at him. Then grabbed his sleeve, ready to drag him back with such momentum that-

In your tugging, the box fell out of your hand to the floor with a clack sound. It may as well have been thunder.

Before you could reach down to retrieve it and flee, the Weaver stopped in her song, turned towards you, and lifted the hood of her cloak. You were ready to see your fiancee, his auburn curls and goatee and the small square of white at the throat of his dark shirt-braced for it-for him-

But the face was no one you knew. 

A woman. Beautiful in fact. Blue eyes. Rich pink lips. Long, dark hair so thick and luscious it cascaded down her shoulders. Dark eyebrows. Ivory skin with high cheekbones. Like a painting. She seemed to wear what was a simple white nightgown beneath her cloak.

Thomas turned absolutely white. His bottom lip quivering. His eyes blinked fast. 

The Weaver gave a small smile.

“Ah…dinner has arrived…” she said. 

[unhinged-romione]

Romione Fic Preview: Virgo's Groove

My first snippet!!

When I first heard "Virgo's Groove" on Beyonce's Renaissance album, it was screaming to be turned into a Romione fic. Dedicating this to @comradekarin, who is hopefully not the only person on this damn app to fully appreciate that with me lol. Fic takes place in Deathly Hallows when Lupin comes to Shell Cottage to share the news of Teddy's birth. Originally written for the @romione-trope-fest (lol guess which trope) but I didn't get my shit together in time 🙃

Beyonce stan or not, if you like what you see, please follow and reblog and subscribe to me on AO3! The more engagement I get, the faster I'll be able to finish it 😚 Hoping to get it out while it's still Pisces season in honor of my blorbo 🙌🏽 ♓

***

"A boy!" exclaimed Fleur to Ron and Hermione as Lupin made a beeline towards Harry. "A Taurus boy! 'Zis community needs more earth signs. Can you believe 'zere are nine Weasleys but no earth signs?"

"Hermione's an earth sign," Ron piped up. "I reckon you both have the same sign actually."

Fleur cast wide eyes at Hermione. "'Ermione, you are a Virgo as well? But of course you are!"

"Why 'of course?'" asked Hermione, brow furrowed. 

"You 'ave all 'ze Virgo traits. 'Ardworking, perfectionist—"

"Controlling," added Ron, snickering. Hermione glared at him. Fleur watched the interaction with a knowing smile. 

"Sensual." Fleur winked at Ron. "Especially when it comes to our opposite sign."

That got Ron to stop smiling.

"How about some wine to celebrate?" Bill announced. 

"Oh yes!" Fleur exclaimed with a clap of her hands. "'Zere is much to celebrate," she added, throwing Ron and Hermione another impish look. "Beel, why don't you fetch 'ze '82 Bordeaux my parents gave us for Christmas? Remus, you must stay for a drink or three…"  

Hermione never took her eyes off Ron. 

"What?"

She pursed her lips. "Lavender seems to have taught you much about astrology."

Ron scratched the back of his head nervously. "Most of what I know about astrology I remember from Divination actually."

"What else do you remember from Divination?"

"About Virgos? Fleur covered the basics, I reckon."

Hermione hesitated before asking in a quiet voice, "Do you know what she meant about the opposite sign?"

Ron's cheeks lit on fire. The corner of the dining room table suddenly seemed fascinating. "Yeah, er, o-opposite signs of the Zodiac tend to have, er, r-really strong compatibility…in that area…"

"You learned that in Divination?" she questioned, voice sharp.

"That, ah…" Ron traced the groove of the table. "That I did learn from, er, Lavender… It was in some stupid Witch Weekly article."

Ron waited with bated breath for a scathing remark, but nothing came. He finally looked up. Hermione was staring at him with an inscrutable expression. 

"So…" she eventually said slowly, taking a step forward. Her hand, too, aimlessly traced the groove of the table, but her eyes remained on Ron. "My opposite sign is…Pisces?"

[i-just-want-to-be-a-bumblebee]

Here is Chapter One of A-Z Sullivan whumps.

Trigger warnings: house fire, burns, vomiting, description of blood and injury.

A is for Arson

“This is madness.” Goodfellow stated. He stood next to Inspector Sullivan as they surveyed another burning cottage. This marked the fourth in the last month of fires. 

“I’m certain this one won’t be an accident either. We need to catch whoever is setting these fires before someone is killed.” The dark haired man replied. He could feel a headache coming on and the sight of a priest in a black cassock made it worse. 

The fire brigade nearly had the house fire out. Spectators had come out of their homes to watch, nearly an hour ago. It was something that bothered Sullivan, these fires were started in the middle of the day. No one ever saw someone fleeing, there was never someone who didn’t belong at the scene watching. And there didn’t appear to be any obvious link between the four houses that had been set alight. 

They were lucky so far that no one had died in the fires. There had been one case of smoke inhalation and one of the men on the brigade had received a minor burn. They needed to catch this arsonist before it got any worse. 

“Did everyone make it safely out?” Father Brown asked from where he was suddenly beside the officers. 

“Yes, please stay out of our investigation Father. Unless you know who is doing this?”

“I am afraid I have yet to hear anything of interest. I am not trying to be in the way of your investigation, Inspector.” The priest stated mildly.

“Please do. We don’t need you becoming a target and this mad person deciding to light up the church.” Sullivan responded dryly. He turned and strode toward the fire Chief, where he was talking to a couple men who had just exited the smoldering shell of a house.

“Is there anything you can tell me, Chief?” 

“It was intentional. Just like the others.” The man replied. “Whoever is doing this isn’t a random child either. They know what they are doing.”

“Thank you, Chief. Would you mind stopping by my office once you’re finished?’

“Not at all Inspector. Give me a few hours and we can discuss this more.” Sullivan liked the fire chief, he was no nonsense, work came before anything, and he took pride in his work. In another life they may have even been friends. In another life they may have been more. 

Sullivan made his way back towards Goodfellow and the Bain of his existence. 

“Dawson is going to come by once this is under control. I would like to look at the other fires and see if there is a connection between the homeowners. This can’t be purely random blazes.” He turned to the priest who made no attempt to remove himself from a likely official conversation. “Father, do you know of any links between the home owners? Any at all?”

“None that I can think of off the top of my head inspector, but I will ponder it a bit more and ask around. I am sure you’re right. These seem too intentional to be random targets.”

“Goodfellow, could you go ask around as well? People are more likely to talk to you than me.” The inspector hated to admit it, but he knew he came off as brash and insensitive to much of Kembleford. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Thank you for coming, Chief Dawson. I trust you were able to get the Thompson home put out?” He waved the other man in, offering him a seat and a cup of tea. 

“Yes. Although, there’s not much left of the place, sadly enough. Ben Thompson was telling me that they’re considering moving north, towards her parents.”

“We’ll be sad to see him leave the cricket team for sure.” Sullivan added, attempting to keep the small talk smooth. 

Dawson nodded, Ben was a good player, one that the team would surely miss. He looked up, not making eye contact with the younger man but able to see how his face remained impassive. He knew there were many in Kembleford that wanted nothing more than for the inspector to leave town and head back to London, the inspector included. But, he had always found the man professional, if a little stiff. Perhaps if he stuck around they may even become friendly. Perhaps if he stuck around they could become more than that.

“What can you tell me about these fires, Chief?” Dawson was torn from his musing at the question. 

“I can tell you that they're all the same person, and it's not a kid.”

“Just one person?” Dawson nodded, taking a sip of his tea, pleased that Sullivan got his preference right. 

“Seems likely. It’s all doable for one person, and doesn't appear to be a second source of ignition.” Sullivan saw the man hesitate. 

“What else did you notice, Chief?” 

“I think… I think it may be one of my men.” Sullivan eyebrow lifted in surprise. 

“Indeed? What led you to that conclusion?” Dawson set his cup down and leaned forward, trying and failing to catch Sullivan's eye. 

“I told you before that it's someone who knows what they're doing. But beyond that, it’s someone that has an understanding of how to put fires out as well. Middle of the day, so it’s someone local. No one is ever home, so they’re familiar with the house's routine. And, it’s never happened when I didn’t have a full house of men ready to go, so they know my station's routine as well.” He sagged back into his chair, saddened at the thought of one of his own causing this kind of harm. 

It was Sullivan's turn to set his cup down, elbows leaning on his desk. 

“I need a list of names of your men, Dawson. And I need you to tell me if any of them have been acting odd lately.”

Dawson nodded, reclaiming his tea cup. He studied the other man for a brief moment. Hard, determined eyes, clenched jaw and pinched eyebrows should not have made him attractive but Dawson found himself appreciating the look. Even with as much as he wanted to make his way back to London, Sullivan put his all into keeping this community safe. Dawson appreciated that at the very least. 

“I can’t think of anyone acting obviously suspicious. If I had to guess I’d say Nelson, McLeary, or Davis. They’re seasoned but still young, not married, dedicated.” He hesitated but continued. “They’ve been good men. They all get along with the rest in the house. But those three, I would say, run a little hotter than the others.” He shrugged, looking helpless at the thought of pointing fingers at someone under his command. 

“I would like to see your schedule for the days of the fires, and their personnel files as well. Please.” The please was tacked on. He didn’t want to appear rude. Training that had been beaten into him as a child kicking in. 

Dawson nodded and drank the last of his tea. “I’ll get that for you. I’ll stop back by tonight with it.” He stood and grabbed his coat from the back of the chair. He still smelled faintly of smoke and wanted nothing more than a shower and a good night's rest. Sullivan could see the exhaustion hanging off the other man. 

“It’s late. I have a few other things I can work on. Bring it in tomorrow.” Dawson smiled in relief. 

See he wasn’t totally oblivious, Sullivan thought of himself. Dawson nodded and headed out the door, closing the door behind him with a soft click. 

Sullivan spent the rest of his evening reviewing the other fires, the owners all similar ages, all married couples, not all had children. The husband's service records varied, nothing linking them there. The wives had similar hobbies, had all attended the same secondary school but weren’t close now. Two of the families had pets, one vacationed in the north, another didn’t make enough to take vacations. Different workplaces, different social classes, different social circles. Surely there was something that connected them all.

By half seven in the morning Sullivan was once more standing at his desk. He looked over his notes from the night before with fresh eyes, enjoying his tea. A quick knock on his door had him turning away from his work.

“Come in.” Dawson’s head peaked through the crack, Sullivan found him amusing.

“Wanted to drop this before I head in for the day.” He handed Sullivan the three files. He felt… guilty? No that wasn’t it. Apprehensive? That may have been closer to the truth. He felt apprehensive about giving the files to the Inspector, he had a bad feeling about this case. 

“Thank you.” Sullivan set the files on his desk. “Chief?” Dawson straightened up, looking attentive. “You’ve been here your whole life, minus your years in service. Do you know of any connection between the victims? I’ve been looking but I am not finding much to go on, besides that the wives all attended the same secondary school.” Dawson nodded, thoughtful.

“They all went to the same school, same year possibly? They graduated…what, six years ago? Maybe go around and ask the teachers? It’s a small school, they may remember something that I never knew about.” Sullivan nodded, he would send Goodfellow. The headmaster at the school hated Sullivan for reasons unknown. 

“Thank you, Chief. I won’t take up any more of your morning.” 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Goodfellow came back later that morning with news.

“That was a good tip sir. Looks like all three girls were part of some club back in school. The teacher that I spoke to couldn’t remember what, but does remember that there were a few other members, all young ladies but the others moved away-”

“So it’s likely someone they went to school with, which narrows it down by age to… Johnathan Davis.” 

“Sir, one more thing. There’s one woman left from the group in town, Cynthia Pierson.”

Sullivan and Goodfellow raced from the precinct to the Pierson residence. 

“We will warn them first, then head to the Fire Station to pick up Davis. Hopefully we can keep this quiet.” As they were driving up the road they began to see smoke. Sullivan punched the accelerator and came to a skidding stop outside the cottage gate, leaving room for fire rescue vehicles. Both men jumped from the car, spotting a blonde man watching as flames engulfed the small cottage. 

Sullivan ran towards the cottage as flames burst from the windows. Goodfellow had grabbed their suspect, whom they caught with the lighter in hand, too entranced by the flames to hear them coming. He scanned the building and surrounding areas, looking for any injured. Just as he was about to relax his shoulders he heard a small cry.

“Help… please!” A child, a small boy by the sounds of it. Sullivan raced towards the engulfed cottage, ignoring Goodfellow’s cry of alarm behind him.

“Sir?! What are you doing?!”

“There’s a boy inside! I can hear him!” He shouted over his shoulder and he kicked in the front door and dove into the inferno. 

Smoke overtook his senses immediately. He covered his mouth and nose with his elbow, but it didn’t help. His eyes began to water as he scanned frantically in the blaze for the child calling for help. Finally after what felt like eons he spotted a small shoe peeking out from by the stairs. He sprinted towards the child, falling to his knees, he scooped the boy into his arms, the child frighteningly limp in his hold. He attempted to stand when a deafening crack overtook the house and a beam from the ceiling collapsed onto him.

Goodfellow could hear the house crumbling down. He could hear the sirens from the fire brigade coming closer, he could almost make out the sound of the onlookers. But he didn't hear his Inspector. He had already handcuffed their suspect to the car and he tried to keep people away from the house. Minutes ticked by and he was certain that Sullivan and the boy had already perished. 

The fire brigade flew into the drive with a spray of gravel.

“Inspector Sullivan is inside! He said he heard a child!” Two of the men in full turnout gear and masks raced past him and entered the house without hesitating. The gathered crowd was silent as they waited with baited breath to see if anyone would come out of the blaze. 

“God will protect.” If he wasn’t already so shell shocked Goodfellow figured he would have jumped at the sudden appearance of Father Brown. “They will find him and the child. I have faith in that.” The giant of a policeman nodded his head, his eyes never leaving the flames. 

The two men who had dashed into the blaze were able to quickly find the downed Inspector and his charge. He was stuck and writhing under the beam. His suit jacket ablaze. They worked quickly, tearing the flaming fabric from his back. With haste that did not allow for gentleness they pushed the beam off the man and child, amazed when Sullivan managed to stand and stagger his way towards the door, the boy clutched tight to his chest. 

Cheers of elation broke out when he breached the door, quickly turning to gasps of horror as he stumbled to his knees and fell onto his side. Firemen, medics, police and priest darted towards the downed man, moving him out of the way of the firemen who were attempting to put out the house fire. 

Sullivan’s breath was a rasping, hacking cough. His face coated in soot, dirty tear tracks down each cheek. Father Brown dropped to his knees at the inspector's head and began to pray. The medics were barely able to pull the small boy from Sullivan’s tight grasp. They passed the unconscious child to another pair of medics and dove back for their patient. His left sleeve and onto his shoulder and back were a charred mess of fabric and muscle. There wasn’t much they could do at the scene. They loaded him into the transport with as much gentleness and haste as they could manage. 

“Father, you may want to ride along!” 

The scene had fallen silent as those gathered watched the transports peel out of the drive with the inspector and his rescued child. Father Brown held onto his right hand, muttering prayers under his breath. Prayers of gratitude for the man being able to rescue the boy, who must have been little James Pierson, six-years old, and waiting for someone to come home. He prayed that the inspector wasn’t in any pain, as he was unconscious since they had left the scene. He prayed that it would be a quick recovery, or if it wasn't meant for the man to survive, that he would be taken swiftly. 

The good Father felt his prayers dry in his throat as the inspector began to shake, gaining just enough consciousness to be aware of the agony he was in. The Inspectors mouth opened, as if to scream, but only a choked out gasp escaped. 

“Inspector? I need you to take a deep breath. You’re all right. We are heading to the hospital.” The medic stated, close to the inspector's head. He attempted to take a deep breath but it caused his lungs to rattle and he began to choke on soot that had gathered in his throat and lungs. The medic jumped to turn him on his side, just as he began to vomit. Strings of ash filled bile ran down his face and gathered in a puddle on the floor of the van.

“It’s alright, Inspector. We’re nearly there.” Father Brown could see the agony the other man was in. He shook so fiercely that he feared the younger man was having a seizure. It was merely minutes later that the vehicle jerked to a stop and the doors were thrown open. Hands appeared and pulled the gurney from the bus, rushing the still shaking man away. 

Father Brown saw another ambulance pull up, slower in its approach and additional personnel pull little James from the back. He was unconscious but from what could be seen he didn’t appear to be burnt. Father Brown offered a prayer of praise and thankfulness that at least that mercy had been granted. 

It was over an hour before Goodfellow joined him in the waiting room. 

The duo sat in silence for a short time before Father Brown had to ask. “Did you discover why Mr. Davis was setting those houses on fire?” Goodfellow nodded sadly. 

“It was over childish cruelty. Apparently the girls were part of a club. One that had some influence over the dating lives of its members. I don't understand it myself but apparently they were cruel to Davis, and he decided that waiting nearly seven years and lighting up their houses was a suitable revenge. He said he didn’t know Jamie was home or he would have waited.” Goodfellow looked tired and baffled. How another person could do something this extreme just didn’t make sense to him. Father Brown shook his head sadly. A lost and troubled soul.

It was nearly two hours before the door opened and a doctor stepped out. Dr. Aoki was a man of small stature, delicate features that made him appear years younger than he was. He and his family had come to Kembleford after the war, looking to escape the poverty of Japan. They had settled in well, after the initial outbursts at least. The village could hardly turn away a trained doctor such as Aoki. Currently he looked drawn and tired. 

“Are you here for the Inspector?” Dr. Tatsuki Aoki asked. 

“Yes. How is he?” Both Goodfellow and Father Brown rose to their feet as soon as he walked in. 

“He is… settled. He suffers from second and third degree burns along his left arm and shoulder. If we can keep the infection out he will not lose the arm.”

“You may have to amputate?!” Goodfellow gasped out, his knees going weak. Dr. Aoki held up a calming hand. 

“We hope it does not come to that. I have him sedated currently. He is not breathing well. Hopefully clean air and water help to clear his airways of soot. He also appears to have broken two ribs. He is going to be my guest here for several nights. Likely a couple weeks.”

“He’s going to hate that.” Goodfellow felt the need to add. 

“Yes, I anticipate that. You are welcome to come sit with him. Please don’t touch him if you can avoid it. We are trying to keep him as free of contamination as we can.” The unlikely looking duo followed after his brisk steps towards the long term use rooms. 

Sullivan was stripped to the waist. He had been bathed and scrubbed clean before dressings had been applied; they covered him from finger tip to chest. He was reclined partially upright and turned so they could see the expansive bandage around his back and shoulder. From the doorway they could hear the rattle in his lungs as he breathed in and out. 

“Is there nothing we can do to help? His breathing sounds painful.” Father Brown whispered in deference to the injured man. 

“We are doing what we can. I would have liked to attempt clearing techniques with him but it isn’t possible with the burns and broken ribs. If it worsens then we will suction out his throat and lungs as needed. Again, hopefully it clears up on its own. For now, keep him company. He is heavily sedated but he may still hear you speaking. Please alert a nurse if you need anything.” 

Brown and Goodfellow took another step into the room and claimed the only two seats available. They sat in silence for only a moment before Father Brown spoke. 

“Thank you Inspector for saving James. His parents will be so grateful once they hear. I know you do not believe it but I will continue to pray until you are well enough to tell me to stop.”

“I’m here sir. You did really well. Didn’t even hesitate to rush in and save that boy. You’re a hero. Now you can rest and heal. We’ll be here when you’re ready to wake up.” It could have been their imagination but it seemed to them that Sullivan breathed just a little easier.