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#i love that he just drops these little references out there
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RAMBLING THOUGHTS AFTER FINISHING PART TWO. GONNA ADDRESS MY P1 THOUGHTS FIRST. SPOILER WARNING.
1 & 2: I think Debling could’ve worked in the second half, and I’m kinda sad Cressida didn’t get a happy ending. The Creloise fell of a CLIFF after ep 5 but I think it could still be saved
5: no cishet man has ever loved his wife more than Anthony Bridgerton I’m gonna be ill
6 & 12: kanthony’s absence was felt BAD in the finale, I think their reactions to LW were sorely needed. Also Jonny and Simone have both said they’ll be at every sibling’s wedding and stick around for years but they missed Francesca’s??? Also felt their absence too much then. They’re both booked and busy I think we’ll continue to only get a couple episodes a season from them
8: Francesca did get to thrive happy in pt 2 my baby I love her
9: I think they managed to disconnect the mondrich plot even further like 😭 once again, I don’t mind them their plot just feels very empty
10: Pen and Delacroix CONTINUE to be my fave duo I love them so freaking much and they can never get rid of it
13: Portia’s growth this season continued to be 10/10 I loved her and Penelope’s relationship it really showed what it’s like to be closely related to people you oppose and the process of needing to forgive and understand them for your own peace of mind
14: that was not how I was expecting Colin to find out about Whistledown
15: Marcus felt a little rushed in part two but I think I need to watch the whole season together to fully decide
17: this was indeed the longest 27 days of my life I got Covid day after it dropped lmfao
MY ~NEW~ THOUGHTS:
We finally got character development from Cressida and if they write her out I’ll be inconsolable (as will Jessica Madsen)
I hope they paid Golda Rosheuvel good for her feet exposure. Worth more than titties in this economy
I feel the need to tell everyone that £5000 in 1815 is in the realm of £500,000 today and we cannot brush over the fact Penelope has made herself the equivalent of a literal millionaire
Anthony has two moods ‘I’m obsessed with my wife’ ‘I want to win this game’ like it is comical how drastically different his facial expression is in the game of charades compared to pretty much every other scene
Anthony saying the marriage is perfect and not hard work and Kate being like BOY I will humble you,,,, doing the lord’s work I love her so much
At some points I felt like Francesca was fighting Anthony for ‘Violet’s least favourite child’ award lmao
John saying he’s off to look at the wainscotting was unfairly funny
Cressida in the red dress is even better than I imagined fuck even if she’s not gay then I am
Peneloise back together the universe is healing I love my babies all we need now is creloise lovers and peneloise friendship simultaneously I don’t like it being one or the other sue me
However much Brimsley is getting paid isn’t enough,,,, Hugh Sachs the man that you are
I adored Penelope’s wedding dress so much and as bitter as I am still about no kanthony wedding in s2, it felt kind of right somehow for Polin to be the first wedding we properly see in this show
Most of the costumes and makeup feel like they got worse,,,,, big ‘I hired a 14 year old’ energy. I don’t need historical accuracy but I would like a modicum of care and the costume/hair/makeup dept looking at a single historical reference from before 1850,,,, please
We all got the bi Benedict we’ve been asking for and I appreciate it, and recognise that he needed Tilley to explore that, but I still would’ve preferred if they first main queer experience was not a threesome
If they go straight into benophie in s4 (which idk, I’m so torn bc I feel like F, E and B all could work well next season) then I also feel like bi Benedict was just them throwing a bone for 5 mins but meant nothing
The CONTENTIOUS Michaela Stirling,,,,, I was undecided until I saw it but that was the definition of gay panic from Francesca and it worked so well I am so excited.
As your resident peerage expert, it is much easier for women to inherit titles in Scotland than England so I wonder (not that anyone on this show knows anything) if that was a reason they chose Francesca to be sapphic [general peerage info and female inheritance info if you care]
On the above, if they can canonically end racism with one marriage then they can end homophobia with one marriage as well
We all know Eloise was the easy and obvious choice to be the queer love story but part of me does kind of like them not taking the easy route, and them going something more unexpected, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want Creloise/Sapphic El like they had eight children let’s be honest
Finch’s sneeze and Phillips’s “now Varely! The bugs!” were unfairly funny
Everything Lady Danbury said to Penelope about suspecting her and what not felt very in character and you can fight with the wall idc
Did they tell us the name of Polin’s baby boy???
Hyacinth saying she thinks of Gregory as the family pet,,,,, girl you an icon walking amongst mere mortals
Predictions I got right:
Anthony didn’t kill Colin, but “are you gonna duel your own brother” lmao I was on the right track
I knew Polin would win the Featherington baby race and I love that for them (but why were Prudence and Phillipa pregnant most of the season, barely showing, Kate was showing almost immediately, and then in the epilogue the sisters all had baby’s similar-ish ages???? Give the writers room a calendar please)
I SAID FROM DAY DOT THAT THE FURNITURE THEY BROKE FROM SEX WAS A CHAISE I CANT FIND THE POST BUT I KNEW IT I FUCKING KNEW IT WHERE DO I COLLECT MY PRIZE SOME OF YOUR GUESSES WERE TRULY FUCKING COOKED
Okay that was too long if you made it this far I’ll make you cookie ily
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gyuuberryy · 20 hours
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love potions (but make it legal)!
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pairing: tutor!jungwon x reader
summary: you had not been too excited about these tutoring sessions your potions professor had dropped on you. but, after meeting your tutor you couldn’t hope but think you both were brewing more than just potions, perhaps even love?
genre: hogwarts au, jungwon is a loser for the reader, initially slightly one sided pining, fluff, angst
warnings: some hogwarts lore references, mentions of failing a class, jealousy, angst, magic stuff, kissing, suggestive(ish)
note: they don’t actually make love potions in this but i liked the sound of it so i used it in the title hehe. i hope you guys enjoy this fic as you had given so much love to the heeseung one.
word count: 4.3kish
if you liked it please reblog or comment to give me your feedback! <3
to the anon who requested a jungwon hogwarts au im sososoo sorry for publishing this like six months later. i had a terrible writer’s block with this one. i’m terribly sorry, this constantly ran through my mind but i couldn’t bring myself to begin. i hope you like this!
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you were so screwed.
you felt like a deflated balloon looking at your mock NEWT results. you were literally failing your potions class. with all the time spent in balancing out your classes, quidditch and sessions at the room of requirement as a part of dumbledore’s army, you had not practised well enough for your classes that were practical based. 
seeing your grades drop from exemplary results to having mediocre grades and failing a class was depressing. so, your potions teacher had made you stay back to have a word with you which is why you stood off to the side. your head hung low in disappointment with yourself. if this continued, it would be hard to apply for an auror’s job, which was your dream. 
you were broken out of your thoughts by the sound of your professor clearing his throat. your head shot up and you looked around to see the room was now empty save for you both. he gestured to the seat next to his table, so you shuffled over.
he looked over the rim of his glasses as he scanned over your report card. you hated the pitiful look that crossed over his face, you were not used to this.
“you are one of my best students, i really wasn’t expecting this from you..”
you grimaced at his words, feeling worse about your situation. great, you were not the only one disappointed by yourself.
your professor must have noticed because his tone immediately became gentle as he gave you a comforting smile. 
“see, the only reason i asked you to stay back was because i know you can do better”, he shuffled through a register seemingly looking for something. “i’m sure you have your reasons as to why your performance went down. i know you can improve again.”
you nodded at his words, already starting to feel better, “yes professor i-”
“which is why i think you should get tutored”, he cut you off.
you froze. tutoring? this was so embarrassing, usually you were the one to provide tutoring to others, and now you have to be the one to receive it? no thank you.
you let out a small chuckle, “i understand professor, but i think i can handle it by myself.”
his brows creased at your words, “i don’t think you have enough time for that, the exams are nearing and you have managed to mess up even the basic things in the exam.”
you sighed at his words, silently accepting your fate because he wasn’t wrong. maybe you should swallow your ego and just get tutored, it was for your own good anyway.
taking a deep breath you put on a fake smile and gritted out, “okay.”
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the rush of your mary jane clad feet filled the hallways of hogwarts with clopping sounds. your feet skidded to a stop in front of the library doors and you placed your hand over your chest, trying to catch your breath from the ten minute long run. you were late for your first tutoring session because your evening nap went a little longer than expected. 
brushing out stray hair strands from your face you opened the doors and stepped in, looking around for your tutor. the only person other than you was a boy with raven hair, sitting on a bench completely surrounded by bookshelves. 
you approached him, assuming he was your tutor. 
“uh hey!”, you called out in an unsure manner. “are you my assigned tutor for po-”
“yes”, he cut you off curtly, not even bothering to spare you a glance. “take a seat.”
you frowned in confusion at his cold behaviour and pulled out a chair to sit next to him. he seemed to be shuffling through some papers and organising them. a few seconds went by with him failing to acknowledge your presence. you cleared your throat awkwardly and introduced yourself, trying to get his attention. 
his head immediately shot up as soon as he heard your name, his eyes widening in what you could tell was surprise. confused at his reaction, you just gave him a small smile. he was silent for a while, giving you enough time to take in his features.
bangs fell over the smooth skin of his forehead and he looked at you through glasses which fit perfectly on his face, adding on to his handsome features. you had seen him around a few times as you shared a few classes with him. he was one of the smartest students, loved by all his teachers.
“uh i’m jungwon”, his voice broke through the awkward silence.
you nodded, “hey. i’ve seen you around.”
his lips pulled up into a smile at that as he let out a small laugh nervously. you raised your eyebrows at his sudden shift in demeanour. just a moment ago he didn’t care about your presence and now he was smiling? whatever.
“professor told me you had been facing some problems with potions”, he looked down and tapped his quill on the table. “what can i help you with?”
you explained how you messed up the practical test for your mocks. he listened intently, never breaking eye contact with you which made you a bit nervous. 
you came to an end of your rant but jungwon still maintained eye contact with you, his chin resting on his hand now. 
you cleared your throat, “so..?”
he still seemed to be staring at you, his eyes out of focus as he dreamily smiled at you.
frowning at his odd behaviour, you waved your hand in front of his face which broke him out of his thoughts. his eyes widened momentarily as he shook his head, a small blush spreading across his cheeks.
“are you sick?”
he chuckled nervously, “no no i was just planning out how i could help you”
he picked up a quill and started writing a plan for you in neat handwriting. once he was done, he passed the sheet over to you.
“we’ll follow this for the next two weeks. meet me in the potions class at four tomorrow.”
you gave a once over at what he had written and smiled at him. “will do, thanks jungwon!”
he nodded and started packing up his things. when he was done he looked at you expectantly, “it’s time for dinner, let’s go to the great hall together.”
you smiled and gathered your things as well.
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it was the first day of your tutoring and you were early today.
or you thought so.
glancing around the potions classroom, you spotted jungwon already there. he was perched on a stool, arranging vials and flasks on the tables. unlike his usual composed demeanour in class, he seemed flustered, his bangs falling over his forehead as he fumbled with a particularly stubborn stopper.
he looked up as he heard you shuffle in, a relieved smile splitting his face.
"ah, there you are! i was starting to think you'd gotten lost."
"lost?" you repeated, a laugh escaping your lips. "in the potions classroom? hardly."
he chuckled, a nervous undertone to it. "right, of course. so, are you ready to tackle some invisibility potion today?"
you straightened your robes, a determined glint in your eyes. "ready as i'll ever be. though," you added, an unsure lilt in your voice, "considering my track record, maybe 'invisible' isn't the best thing to start off with."
jungwon's hummed, his cheeks flushing. "well, that's why we're practising, isn't it? to avoid another...disappearing act?"
you snorted. "exactly. though, to be fair, the professor did say my failed polyjuice potion was rather impressive in its...uniqueness."
he winced. "right. let's just focus on not achieving sentience with our cauldron this time, alright?"
the rest of the afternoon was a whirlwind of chopping netslime and muttering incantations. jungwon was a patient tutor, though his explanations sometimes devolved into nervous rambling when your eyes met. 
by the end of the session, your potion shimmered a faint, almost-invisible blue. not perfect, but a far cry from your previous disasters. jungwon beamed, his earlier awkwardness replaced by genuine pride.
"see? you're a natural! with a little more practice, you'll be brewing like snape in no time."
you laughed. "snape? now that's a terrifying image."
he chuckled, then cleared his throat, his gaze flickering away. "well, i should probably get going. i have herbology first thing tomorrow."
you nodded, gathering your things. "alright, see you then. and jungwon?"
he stopped at the door, his eyes questioning.
"thanks a lot for doing this. i already feel more confident.”
he smiled at that, making you do the same unconsciously.
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the next two weeks flew by in a flurry of potion-making and stolen glances in your sessions, and outside of it whenever you both crossed paths. you had made a new friend and you were grateful for his help. you found yourself approaching the cauldron with newfound determination. your brews were improving steadily, and the playful banter during your sessions only added to the enjoyment.
one particularly chilly evening, you hurried down to the room of requirement, the usual meeting place for your secret DA practice sessions. you entered to find the familiar sight of your fellow students practising disarming spells and dodging jinxes. but amidst the chaos, you spotted an unexpected face – jungwon.
he was facing away from you, expertly deflecting a curse with a flick of his wand. you blinked, momentarily speechless. you never knew jungwon was a part of this! a warmth bloomed in your chest, a mixture of surprise and a strange sense of pride.
"nice one, jungwon!" , you called out, a wide grin on your face. jungwon turned, his eyes meeting yours. a flicker of surprise crossed his features before he broke into a wide grin.
"hey there," he said casually, striding over to you. "didn't expect to see you here."
"me neither," you admitted, a smile playing on your lips. "i guess you're not just a potions prodigy, huh?"
he chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. "turns out i have a few other hidden talents."
the rest of the evening flew by in a whirlwind of practice. seeing jungwon in this new light – confident, skilled, and fighting for a cause you both believed in – made your heart flutter. he was everything you admired and more.
admire? since when did that happen?
shaking your head to rid yourself of such thoughts, you got back to practising your charm. although, over the duration of the practise, your mind couldn’t help but wander towards jungwon’s recent behaviour. he had been sweet to you since the beginning, always ready to help out. and the way he blushed around you and quipped with you, you couldn’t help but think that maybe he also felt something? 
as the group started dispersing, you lingered near the room's entrance, feigning the need to adjust your cloak.
"hey," jungwon's voice startled you. he was packing his bag, a casual smile playing on his lips. "didn't head out yet?"
"actually," you began, fiddling with the strap of your bag, "there was something i wanted to ask you about."
his smile widened in invitation. "shoot."
you took a deep breath. "it's about dumbledore's army. we've been working on patronus charms lately, and well, i'm struggling a bit." shame tinged your cheeks. you weren't used to needing help with spells.
jungwon's expression softened with understanding. "a patronus charm, huh? tricky business, that. but hey, i might be able to offer some pointers."
relief washed over you. "really? that would be amazing!"
he gestured towards a secluded corner of the room. "come on, then. let's see what you're working with."
you settled onto the dusty floor, explaining your struggles. you could conjure a faint wisp of silvery light, but it was far from the actual form you needed. jungwon listened intently, occasionally asking clarifying questions.
"okay," he said once you finished, "it seems you've got the basic idea down. the key is focusing on a strong, happy memory. something that evokes a feeling of pure joy and warmth."
he saw your hesitant expression and chuckled. "don't worry, it's not a competition to see who has the most embarrassing childhood memory."
you forced a smile. "no, of course not." but your mind struggled to find that perfect memory.
jungwon seemed to sense your frustration. "close your eyes," he instructed gently. 
"take a deep breath and try to visualise a place that makes you feel truly happy. maybe a familiar place from your childhood, a special time with a friend, anything that brings a smile to your face."
you closed your eyes, following his guidance. images flickered through your mind – family picnics, winning a quidditch match, late-night talks with your best friend. but none of them seemed to spark the necessary warmth.
just as you were about to give up, a memory surfaced. a smile bloomed on your face. you opened your eyes and met jungwon's gaze. "i think i have it," you whispered.
he nodded encouragingly. "focus on that feeling. the warmth, the happiness, let it flow through you and into your wand."
you closed your eyes again, picturing the memory that brought you happiness. it was a little hazy as you tried to focus on the touch and sounds from that memory. with a deep breath, you pointed your wand forward and muttered the incantation.
a wisp of silvery light erupted from your wand, growing and solidifying into a shape. it wasn't perfect – the outline of a cat was more suggestion than a form – but it was a patronus. you had finally done it.
a cheer escaped your lips as you realised you had finally done it. you looked at jungwon, your heart brimming with gratitude. "i did it!"
he beamed, genuine pride radiating from him. "see? you're a natural. you just needed a little nudge in the right direction."
his words held a hint of something more, something that sent a shiver down your spine. you wanted to thank him properly, to express just how much his help meant to you. 
"thank you, jungwon," you murmured, your voice barely a whisper. you wished, however, that your patronus could solidify into something more impressive, something that truly reflected the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside you.
as if sensing your unspoken desire, jungwon stepped closer. his movements were subtle, almost hesitant. but before you could question it, he reached behind you, his hand gently wrapping around yours, enclosing both your hands and your wand within his hold.
a jolt of electricity shot through you at his touch. the air in the room crackled with a tension you hadn't noticed before. your focus on the patronus wavered momentarily, replaced by a hyper awareness of jungwon's warm torso pressed against your back, his fingers brushing against yours.
his warm breath fanned over your ear as he whispered even though there was no one around to hear you both, “now completely focus on that memory.”
the room seemed to shrink, the air growing thick with unspoken tension. you focused on the memory, it acting as a soothing anchor in the storm brewing inside you. but this time, something was different. the wispy light from your wand pulsed, growing brighter, solidifying. the faint outline of a cat sharpened, taking on a more defined form.
in the heightened focus, you were oblivious to everything except the memory and the warmth radiating from jungwon's hand on yours. the familiar nostalgia from the memory echoed in your mind, a beacon of happiness. with a burst of energy, a fully formed silver cat patronus materialised, leaping and frolicking around the room.
you gasped in awe, forgetting everything else. "it's perfect! it's actually a perfect patronus!" 
you jumped, unknowingly pushing yourself more into jungwon, making him wrap his hands loosely around you as he chuckled lowly. you spun around to share your joy with him.
but as you turned, your breath hitched. you were impossibly close to him, his hand still wrapped around yours, his face mere inches away. his eyes were dark and intense, a mirror of the emotions swirling within you. the air crackled with unspoken desire.
you leaned in, heart pounding a frantic rhythm against your ribs. he tilted his head ever so slightly, his lips hovering a whisper away from yours. his breath hitched ever so slightly, as you both leaned in, the space between your lips closing with each passing second.
just as your lips were about to meet, jungwon pulled back abruptly. 
he cleared his throat, his hand falling away from yours. "that's... that's amazing," he stammered, his eyes flickering away from yours. "a perfect patronus. you really are something else."
his words held a strange distance, and a knot of unease tightened in your stomach. the electric tension that had thrummed in the air moments ago had dissipated, replaced by an awkward silence. you weren't sure what had happened, but embarrassment washed over you in suffocating waves. the joy of your achievement felt strangely hollow now.
your patronus immediately vanished into thin air, leaving a trail of sparkles behind.
the tension in the room receded as quickly as it had risen, leaving a bewildered silence in its wake. you blinked, confused and slightly disappointed. why did he stop?
"i, uh," he stammered, looking at his shoes, "i think it's getting late. maybe we should call it a night?"
did he regret the near kiss? or was there something else at play? 
you opened your mouth to ask, but the words wouldn't come. the magic of the patronus lingered, a bittersweet reminder of what could have been.
"yeah," you finally managed, your voice barely a whisper. "it's getting late."
jungwon offered a small smile that didn't quite reach his eyes before gathering his things and hurrying towards the exit. you watched him go, a myriad of emotions swirling within you.
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disappointment gnawed at you like a dementor during your potions class the next day. your potions professor, inspecting your bubbling concoction with a delighted smile, declared it "exactly by the book."
he beamed, announcing, "it appears the extra sessions have paid off! perhaps we can consider them concluded, wouldn't you agree?"
a lump formed in your throat. you glanced at jungwon, expecting a playful jab or a celebratory nod. but he simply shrugged, a noncommittal, ‘sounds good to me,’ escaping his lips.
the professor's words should have filled you with relief. you were back on track, independent once more. yet, as the class ended, all you felt was a hollow emptiness. you caught jungwon's eye for a fleeting moment, hoping for a familiar spark or a shared grin. instead, he averted his gaze, muttering a hurried goodbye and hurried out of the classroom.
this became a pattern over the next few days. in the hallways, where you once exchanged playful jibes, jungwon now seemed to melt into the background whenever you approached. shared classes were endured in a tense silence, his friendly demeanour replaced by a distant politeness. 
you replayed the scene in the room of requirement over and over in your head, desperately trying to pinpoint where you'd gone wrong. 
had you misread the tension? had you moved too fast, startled him with your sudden boldness?
one evening, you found yourself lingering outside the room of requirement, the usual meeting place for dumbledore's army. you weren't sure why you were there, perhaps a desperate hope that jungwon would appear. the door creaked open, and your best friend peeked out.
"lost something?" she asked, her brow quirked in concern.
you shook your head, the words refusing to form.
"everything alright?" she pressed gently, her perceptive eyes searching yours.
you sighed, finally blurting out, "it's jungwon. did i…did i do something wrong?"
her knowing smile softened the blow. "ah," she said, pulling you into a hug. "sometimes, the most powerful potions are brewed in silence, simmering with unspoken emotions."
her words offered little comfort, but they planted a seed in your mind. maybe rushing something as delicate as what you felt for jungwon wasn't the way. maybe patience, like the perfect potion, required time and the right balance of ingredients. you resolved to let things cool, to focus on mastering your spells and potions, hoping that maybe, one day, the right opportunity would present itself, and the spark you shared with jungwon wouldn't need words to reignite.
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screw whatever you thought before. you couldn't wait for that ‘one day’ to come as you watched your classmate, a girl with hair like spun sunshine, practically cling to jungwon's arm in herbology. they were bent over, giggling like pixies at a particularly stubborn gillyweed.
fury replaced the embers of hope your friend had ignited. who was this girl? had he moved on that quickly? 
jealousy bubbled in your stomach as you stalked away from the window, hurt settling in your chest. but you were determined to make things right, even if it meant making your friendship(?) with him awkward, you needed to know what went wrong. 
the bell signalling the end of class was your cue. you bolted out, weaving through students, your eyes locked on jungwon. he noticed you coming, a flicker of surprise crossing his face, but before he could react, you were upon him.
he was walking with the sunshine-haired girl, lost in their own conversation, until a breathless, "jungwon!" ripped him from it. he turned, eyes widening further when he saw your determined, (slightly crazed) expression.
"uh, hi?" he stammered, glancing between you and the girl who stood blinking at you both, confused.
"excuse me," you said politely through gritted teeth to the girl, who, thankfully, scurried off with a mumbled ‘see you later, jungwon.’
now, alone with the reason of your anger and surging jealousy, you grabbed his arm and steered him away from the castle grounds. you marched him past the greenhouses until you reached a secluded clearing near the black lake. there, with a flourish that would have earned you points in charms class, you pinned him against a sturdy oak tree.
he stared at you, bewildered, as your chest heaved. "okay," he started cautiously, "what's going on?"
"what's going on?" you sputtered, finally finding your voice. "what's going on is, i thought we had...something!" you gestured wildly towards the castle, where you could still see a flicker of sunshine hair disappear around a corner.
jungwon blinked, then a slow blush crept up his neck. "we...we do! we had potions tutoring sessions, remember?"
you threw your hands up in exasperation. "ugh, not tutoring! this…this unspoken thing we have!"
his blush deepened, and he mumbled something inaudible under his breath.
"what?" you demanded.
he took a deep breath. "look, about that night in the room of requirement..."
"yes?" you leaned in, heart pounding.
he cleared his throat. "maybe i… i overreacted. i wasn't sure what you were feeling, and…"
he trailed off, his gaze dropping to the ground. you gaped at him, realising the truth. you hadn't scared him off, he'd scared himself off! 
but there was more. a flicker of insecurity crossed his eyes. "and to be honest," he admitted sheepishly, "the real reason i've been avoiding you… well, it's because i was trying to figure out how to tell you something...something big."
you blinked. here you were, fuming about a nonexistent threat, while jungwon had been battling his own insecurities. the situation was hilarious, almost. but mostly, it was endearing.
a slow smile spread across your face. "well, spill it, jungwon. don't leave me in suspense."
he fumbled with his words, cheeks burning a fiery red. "it's about...well, ever since the beginning of this year, i’ve looked at you…in a different light."
your heart thrummed erratically now, hoping he was getting to where you wanted him to.
"...and, well, you're not just funny and smart, you're kind and brave, and the way you laugh at my stupid jokes, it just makes me..." his voice trailed off, his eyes pleading with yours. 
his rambling was adorable, but the knot of frustration in your stomach tightened with every nervous stammer. you couldn't take it anymore.
grabbing him by the collar, you silenced him with a kiss. it started desperate, fueled by the need to know his true feelings, but as his lips met yours, it melted into something sweeter. you poured your unspoken emotions into that kiss, the frustration, the longing, the dawning hope. 
suddenly, jungwon spun you around, switching your positions so that you were pushed against the tree now. your breath hitched in surprise at his sudden show of confidence. he dove back into the kiss, his soft lips moving against yours in fervour. the intensity of your kiss increased along with your pulse and you were pretty sure jungwon could feel it with the way he was pressed up against you
when he finally pulled back, breathless and dizzy, a different kind of silence hung in the air.
jungwon stared at you as your cheeks flushed a brilliant crimson, mirroring the sunset bleeding across the lake. finally, a smile bloomed on his face, genuine and relieved. 
"see," he breathed, voice husky, "that was much easier than all that."
you laughed, a genuine sound that echoed through the clearing. relief washed over you, warm and tingly. "i should be the one saying that" you teased.
“yeah well i chickened out”, he scratched his head in embarrassment, “i wanted my confession to be perfect.”
you smirked, “yeah well what you pulled right now was very romantic. i didn’t know you had that in you.”
he rolled his eyes playfully and grabbed your hand, lacing his fingers with yours. “you liked it though. let’s head back now, it’s almost time for dinner.”
you smiled as you walked in step with him, swinging your intertwined hands back and forth. he squeezed your hand with a cheeky grin on his face.  you returned the squeeze looking up at him in question, when his next words had a blush blooming on your face.
“i hope you’re going to pay me back for those lessons with more of such kisses.”
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˚ · .𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁𝘀 𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗲𝗿𝘃𝗲𝗱
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minniesmutt · 2 days
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☾ ━━━━━━ 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬
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☾ ━━━ PAIRING: HYUNJIN X READER ☾ ━━━ CONTENT: SUB!HYUNJIN, DOM!READER, AFAB!READER, PET NAMES (PRETTY BOY, PRETTY, GOOD BOY), HYUNJIN IN A HARNESS, NIPPLE PLAY, READER IS REFERRED TO AS MOMMY, ORAL (BOTH REC.), FACE SITTING/RIDING, HAIR PULLING, PRAISE, TEASING, KINDA QUICK ORGASM ☾ ━━━ WC: 1.4K ☾ ━━━ repost from old blog ☾ ━━━ 18+ work!! minors and ageless/blank blogs DNI! you will be blocked, put an indicator on your blog somewhere that you are 18+ before interacting with this work/blog
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     Hyunjin loves trying new things in bed. He didn’t expect an immediate reaction from his partner when the group put out the suit version of the s-class dance practice video. As soon as the video had finished, Y/n turned to the dancer, smiling.
     “What?” Hyunjin asked as he leaned forward and smiled
     “You look good in a harness,” Y/n smiled wider
     “What are you thinking about lovely?” Hyunjin asked as they cupped his face
     “Thinking about you in that harness with me on top of you.”
     There was no real dynamic when it came to the couple’s sex life. Ultimately they would just do whatever felt right at the moment. But that suggestion had Hyunjin thinking. So a week and a half later, he had a package at the door of their shared apartment.
     “What did you order?” Y/n asked him from their position on the couch. 
     He just smiled and handed the package to them. Y/n took the package as he took a seat next to them, pulling them closer to him. They tore open the packer and pulled out its contents. Black leather folded up in clear plastic. Y/n put the first packer down and opened the plastic and took out the harness. Just like the one he had worn in the video. 
     “Wanna try that little fantasy of yours?” Hyunjin kissed their cheek
     Y/n didn’t verbally answer. Rather they climbed up onto his lap and dropped the harness to the side before cupping his face in their hands and bringing his lips to theirs. Hyunjin damn near melted into the kiss as his hands held their hips, pulling them closer to his body.
     They tilted his head back and deepened the kiss, running their tongue along his bottom lip. Hyunjin groaned as their tongue tangled with his. Their hands ran down his body and up his shirt. His grip on their hips tightened as their fingers brushed over his nipple. 
     “Aw, feeling sensitive today baby,” Y/n teased as they moved their kisses down to his jaw and neck. 
     “Mhm,” Hyunjin nodded as his hips rolled against hers
     “Cute,” Y/n smirked and nipped his skin a bit. 
     Hyunjin groaned and threw his head onto the back of the couch. He was very much loving his partner's dominant side, a lot more than he initially thought he would. Y/n was enjoying his general reactions. It was a different side to watch him lean more into sub-territory. 
     They pulled back from him and pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it behind the couch. Y/n pushed their lips back onto his neck, laying one hand at the base of his neck, and started grinding down on his semi. 
     “Fuck,” Hyunjin groaned
     They pulled away again, making Hyunjin look up to see them grabbing the harness and undoing the clasps before wrapping it around his torso, “Tell me if it's too tight,” Y/n kissed his jaw again as they tightened and locked it in place. Tugging at it a bit. Hyunjin confirmed it was perfect. 
     Y/n grabbed the other end and did the same around his neck. Clasping it closed around his neck before tugging it a bit. A whimpery whine left his lips that time which made Y/n chuckle. “Hm. My pretty boy likes that?” Y/n teased as they moved off his lap and spread his legs before sitting on their knees between them. Hyunjin watched their motions as they reached for the waistband of his pants and boxers. 
     “Can I pretty?”
     Hyunjin nodded and lifted his hips off the cushions and let them slide down his legs. He kicked the rest of the fabric off his ankles and let the clothing lie on the floor. He was fully exposed to them, just the harness on his chest, while they were fully clothed still. Y/n set their hands on his knees and kissed the inside of his thighs, slowly. His chest heaved up and down as they teased him. 
     Y/n slowly moved their hands up the inside of god thighs as they went, pushing them open more. Enjoying the whine that left his lips as they got closer to his hard-on. Pre cum leaked from his red tip as they got to the base of him. 
     Y/n placed kisses along the base and his balls before working their way up. Sticking out their tongue and licking a long stripe along the underside of him. His head fell back onto the couch again as they came up to the tip. Their tongue swiped the beads of precum from him as one hand came up and held him at the base. Slowly they took him into their mouth and took in what they could.
     Their tongue swirled around him making a higher pitch moan fall from his lips as his head snapped forward. He watched as they slowly bobbed their head up and down on him. He’d seen it before but from this subbish mindset he had right now, it almost made him more sensitive to it.
     Their hand wrapped around him and pumped the length of him that they couldn’t fit in their mouth. They moved their head a bit faster and moaned around his length. “Oh fuck, Mommy,” Hyunjin whined
     Y/n hummed in response, tightening their grip on his length. His hips bucked up into their mouth. They gagged a bit and used their other hand to hold his hips down. Y/n pulled back and popped him out of their mouth, slowly jerking him now 
     “Stay still baby, or mommy won't let you come.” Y/n warned
     “‘M sorry Mommy,” his hips bucked into their hand as he said so
     “I don't think you are. You're not even listening.”
     Their hand unwrapped from him as he whined, begging for them to make him come, apologizing profusely. Y/n got up from their knees and leaned over him, kissing down his neck. “How about you apologize by making Mommy come, can you be a good boy and do that?”     “Yes!”
     “Lay on your back baby.” Hyunjin did as he was told and laid on his back as Y/n discarded their clothes. His eyes watched them move before they straddled his face, hovering just over his mouth.
     “Wanna taste you, please,” Hyunjin begged
     “Hold onto mommy’s legs baby, don’t want you touching yourself.” 
     Hyunjin wrapped his arms around their thighs as Y/n sat their full weight onto him. Hyunjin didn’t waste a second running his tongue along their slit, letting his tongue collect the wetness from them before he slipped his tongue into them. Y/n moaned out and grabbed a handful of his hair. 
     Hyunjin moaned into them as his nose nudged their clit. Y/n slowly rocked their hips against his mouth, leaning back to watch him below. One hand pressed against his chest, the leather harness below their hand.  
     Hyunjin kept a grip on their thighs, moaning as he ate them out like a starved man. He could feel their legs starting to shake under his grip and close around his head every so often. He took a little bit of pride in his oral game with the fact he knew he could make them come quickly with just his tongue. 
     Y/n came in his mouth and tightened their grip on his hair as he licked them clean before they got off his face, moving down to straddle his hips. “Good boy,” Y/n breathed against his neck as they left wet kisses along there, grabbing the leather that ran straight down his sternum. 
     Hyunjin was caught catching his breath, mumbling a quick thank you before they lined themselves up on his cock and sank down. He wasn’t super sensitive from his ruined orgasm earlier but the feeling of their warm walls made him want to blow right then and there. 
     “Fuck,” Hyunjin groaned
     “You like having mommy wrapped around you like this,” slowly they started bouncing up and down on his cock
     “Yes.” It was a simple word that came out so broken. 
     Y/n sat up a bit and tugged on the harness. A choked whine left the man under them as he looked down between their bodies to see him disappearing inside of them. 
     “Wanna come, Mommy,” Hyunjin whined out as his head flew back a bit
     “Already? We just started,” Y/n fake pouted as they picked up their pace. 
     “Please, Mommy. Can’t hold it.”
     “Okay, baby. You’ve been a good boy, cum inside mommy.”
      Only took a couple more bounces for him to shoot up into them as they kept riding him. A slew of fucks and other curses flew out of his mouth as he gripped their hips. 
     “Good boy,” Y/n grabbed the leather again and leaned down leaving wet open mouth kisses along his neck again. “How many more can you give me?”
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bucksangel · 1 day
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Milk and Honey ask…
It doesn’t have to be this version of Stucky exactly it could be whatever you want but imagine Bucky and reader surprising Steve by setting up all his art supplies and then them posing for him.
I can imagine Bucky teasing him and being like “paint me like one of your French girls.” 🤭🤭🤭
I know you said Milk and Honey but this is giving me ideas for another au I’ve been thinking about writing, so I hope this is okay😭😭
Pairing: stucky x reader
Word count: 946
Summary: Steve has been in a little rut as to what to paint, so when he comes back from a weekend at DC, his loves have taken it upon themselves to help get him out of it.
Warnings: this is just an overwhelming amount of fluff, titanic references, steve and bucky are retired, hinted smut at the end so 18+ minors DNI
main masterlist | tip jar | commission me
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It’s just past three in the afternoon when Steve steps out of his truck, and for a moment, he just leans against it, staring up at his little cottage with a fond smile. He’s just gotten back from a short trip to DC so he could go to a kids' charity event he was requested to be at and he is tired. Now, he could’ve said ‘no’, he is retired after all, but saying no to helping those in need is just not who Steve is. So, even though he had to leave the loves of his life for a few days, the smiles of joy on the kids’ faces when he’d walked into the building almost made it worth it.
As his eyes roam over the newly added fairy lights intertwined with the posts on the porch he hears a shriek of laughter – loud and boisterous and happy. The front door swings open, and a head of dark brown hair pokes out before looking back inside.
“Stevie’s back!”
Steve smiles wider, no doubt sporting heart eyes when the door opens wider as you practically shove Bucky aside so you can go rushing down the stairs. Steve steps away from the truck, opening his arms and laughing when you launch at him – and he’s just glad he’s a super soldier or else you would have knocked him to the ground.
“Hey, baby. You missed me?” Your arms wrap around Steve’s torso and your face tucks into his neck so even though he can’t see it, he knows you’re rolling your eyes. When you simply huff, he pokes your side, then grabs the backs of your thighs so he can hoist you up and wrap your legs around his waist. “I was only gone for a couple of days.”
“So?” Bucky comes jogging up behind you, stopping right next to you. “You can’t say that you didn’t miss us too.”
It’s Steve’s turn to roll his eyes, but he quickly closes them when Bucky puts his metal hand on the back of his neck and tugs – pulling him into a kiss. The kiss lasts for about five seconds, soft and chaste before Steve has to lean back and swat at Bucky’s hand that dropped down to grab his ass.
“Of course, I missed you guys,” Steve says fondly, adjusting you to rest on his hip so he can wrap his free arm around Bucky’s waist. In turn, Bucky places his metal hand back on Steve’s neck, and he has to suppress a shiver when he feels the ring on Bucky’s hand.
After five years of marriage, he would have thought the excitement would wear off, that maybe he’d become used to coming home to both of you, or doing mundane things together just as an excuse to be with each other. But it hasn’t, and Steve has never taken for granted the warm feeling in his chest whenever he’s with you, even if you’re together all day or haven’t seen him in a week.
Steve just loves you both more than life itself, he can’t help it, okay?
“My turn,” you whine, lifting your head up and puckering your lips so Steve can dip down and kiss you as well. “Now, c’mon, Stevie. Let’s go inside,” You say happily when he pulls back.
“We have a surprise for you.” Bucky’s smiling wide, looking over at you. When you nod, Bucky bolts into the house, shouting “We’ll get your bags later!” behind him.
Steve is a little apprehensive to go inside. Lord only knows what you two have gotten up to while he was away. But then you kiss his cheek, and the look of excitement in your eyes breaks down his walls and he makes his way towards the house as well.
He doesn’t know what he was expecting when he walked through the threshold and into the living room, but it wasn’t this. Most of the furniture has been pushed off to the side, and in its place is his easel, a few canvases, and the cart he keeps all of his paints and brushes in. With the curtains open, it’s perfectly positioned to give him the best lighting. Sitting opposite from the setup is one of their comfiest couches.
“What’s all this for?”
“You’ve been in a rut with painting, so we wanted to try to help with that.” You giggle at Bucky’s response, your face tucking back into Steve’s neck. And he can tell Bucky is trying to hide his mischievous smirk.
“And how do you plan on doing that?” Steve finally sets you down, though you keep your arms around him.
“Well…” You trail off, playing with the short hairs at the base of your husband’s neck. “Remember when we watched Titanic last week?”
Steve rolls his eyes and groans. He knows exactly what scene you’re talking about. And, while he does feel like you both might somehow manage to give him a heart attack with your schemes and pranks, it’s moments like this that makes him think that it’d be worth it.
He’s so loved.
He feels it in his bones, at his core he knows that you and Bucky want him to be happy.
“Come on, Stevie baby,” Bucky says, saddling up behind his husband. “Paint us like one of your French girls.”
Steve can’t help but snort, and he feels Bucky smile into his neck. He takes a long pause, pretending to think it over even though he’s dying to say yes. He scrunches up his face like he’s thinking really hard, and that’s when you poke his side.
“Well,” Steve chuckles. “I guess you guys better get undressed then.”
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stucky taglist: @justsebstan
main taglist: @lilyalone | @goldylions | @yeehawbrothers | @buckyssweetheart | @buckysprettybaby | @sushiseoks | @heytheredelulu | @somnorvos | @ozwriterchick | @pxgeturner | @gentlelimerence | @buckysbarne
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meanbossart · 2 days
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Ask Compilation: Advice, influences and Misc.
Apologies for taking so long on some of these, admittedly I'm much more likely to entirely forget about asks that are about me and my interests 💃 Thank you for all the questions regardless! And thank you specially to everyone who just drops nice messages into my inbox out of kindness.
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I'm brazillian and a native portuguese speaker!
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I'll probably return to twitter eventually, but a) I hate that place and b) It didn't make much sense to me to turn it into a BG3 account out of the blue. I am considering making an Instagram or a new twitter just to have more places where people can follow in case they don't care for tumblr, but it's just been a very busy year so far and so that's kind of low on the list of priorities. If I ever do that I'll be sure to announce it here. Have a nice day yourself!
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Sorry to hear that! I've gotten a few messages before about this issue, and the problem is that since I am myself not from the US, my options are also limited :( a lot of patreon alternatives don't work for me because they either don't go through paypal, take insane currency conversion fees, or just straight up block me from signing up.
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Speak for yourself, I just assume everyone I speak to online has committed some sort of atrocious crime until proven otherwise. Except for me - of course. I have never done anything bad in my life.
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I still have a lot to learn! But I will basically use whatever works for me at the moment, as well as make a sincere effort to learn about musculature and anatomy so I can understand those components and how they move, instead of only knowing what they look like when still - that's how you get better at drawing from memory. Volume mostly comes from coloring and understanding light, which is it's own beast but can very much be learned from similar reference materials and observing it IRL!
My favorite places to get reference are medical diagrams, weird pictures I take of myself, 3D software (often Virt-a-mate) and questionably phrased image google searches.
My favorite artists are Jason Shawn Alexander and Sean Murphy, but I'm not sure how much of it reflects in my art nowadays! I generally seek to pick up techniques from artists rather than to emulate style.
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Honestly I love that you guys generally do the thing he would hate the most: take him very non-seriously LOL
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I've been in a real Chelsea Wolfe and Amyl And The Sniffers kick lately! But usually you'll also find me listening to stuff like Boy Harsher, Swans, FWF, JK Flesh Lingua Ignota, Nick Cave, David Bowie, and so on. Music for the weird gays, basically.
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I went insane and wrote a 23-chapter-long-and-still-ongoing fic in like four months. But also - I'm not that good, I'm just shamelessly pretentious LOL
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Hm. That's a good question, but I'm not really sure. Sincerely not trying to be a edgier-than-thou here (in fact, this has made me a little self conscious at one time or another) but a lot of art that I don't mean to be horror-y in nature at all has been associated with the genre. So perhaps I don't know what I'm doing either, LOL.
I think just leaning on making things look slightly "wrong" or "ugly" on purpose is the way, but I also find that if you just seek to depict people as they are instead of idealized versions of themselves, you will arrive at that either way.
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Thank you for reading! Honestly, I'm guilty of having not read much at all since I was in my late teens, and the style I'm employing for ANE is very different from the things I would call "influential" for me, or even that I used to enjoy reading at all before. I read a lot of Chuck Palahniuk as a youth (and, no slight to people who do like him still, but nowadays I'm not sure why I ever did. His stories don't speak to me at all anymore) as well a lot of weird experimental lit that I didn't even care to remember the name of. My last book stint from one or two years ago was composed solely of historical and medical literature, and last year I got really into Cormac Mcarthy thanks to the internet.
So, all in all, I'm absolutely all over the place LOL if you put a gun to my head and told me to list my favorite books, I'd say The Indifferent Stars Above and Blood Meridian.
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(Consider the reading portion of the question to have been answered above) I really really liked Beau is Afraid and think it's a really great "horror" movie. Sue me.
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skyward-floored · 1 day
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I have a request, IAU Four being a mentor to Sun and Sky’s triplets in the future since well, I think the triplets refer to to triforce heroes Links, right? I say this cause well, why not? And I think it’ll be really cool so uhhh I hope you do not mind :D
Yep, the triplets are the tri force heroes Links :) I had to slip them in somehow, I’m too attached to them lol.
Another fic where Four is a little older, probably similar in time to that one with him and Wind I wrote the other week. Early teens. Ish.
(requests are closed)
————————————————————
Wild’s motorcycle pulled to a stop on the edge of the street, Four removing his arms from around his older brother as he turned off the bike.
“Alright Smithy, don’t take too long, I’ve got to go in like fifteen minutes,” Wild said, and Four nodded, taking his helmet off and handing it to Wild.
“No problem, I’ll be quick. Though if you want to make sure I don’t take too long, you could just come in with me,” Four said as he hopped off his brother’s motorcycle. “I bet Sky is home, and the triplets haven’t seen you in weeks.”
Wild’s face scrunched. “I’d love to, but you know Azy would just foretell my doom or whatever.”
Four snorted. “He only did that once.”
“Yeah, and he was right!”
“You fell down the stairs, Wild. You literally do that all the time.”
Wild rolled his eyes as Four smirked, and waved him in. “Yeah yeah whatever, go on. I don’t have all day, hop to it.”
Four let out a laugh, and walked up the sidewalk to Sky and Sun’s house, listening to the wind chimes on their front porch, and wondering idly if Aryll had talked to any rare birds lately. He paused to look at some chalk drawings of birds and oddly-shaped people on the path, and in doing so, didn’t notice a blond head pop up from behind a bush, or the excited gasp ring through the yard.
“Four! Four!” a voice squealed, and Four turned around just in time to see one of his cousins launch himself at his arms.
Four yelped and dropped the bag he’d been holding, catching Crimson just in time. The boy giggled wildly as he hugged him, rufous eyes sparkling, and Four sighed and ruffled his hair, glad he’d been able to drop the bag in the soft grass.
“Hi Crim, happy to see you too. Where’re your brothers?” Four asked as he looked around, and Crimson bounced back out of his arms, and began tugging him forward.
“Backyard! Sage zapped Aryll so Mommy kicked him outside, and Azy was keeping him company,” he reported as he dragged Four forward, Four just barely grabbing his bag. “Come on come on!”
“Just a second, I’ve got to return something first,” Four said as he was dragged inside. “Aryll?”
A blonde head peered around the corner, and Aryll smiled at the sight of him.
“Oh, hi Four,” his other cousin said, nursing a hand close to her chest as she walked into the room. “What’s up?”
Four saw some reddish marks on her skin as she turned her hand, and he winced. If the bandages were anything to go by, it looked like Sage had gotten her pretty good.
Little kids with powers were always something of a hazard.
Aryll was looking at him expectantly, and Four shook himself, reaching into the bag he’d brought and pulling out the box that was inside.
“I fixed your telescope,” he grinned, and carefully unwrapped and it handed it to her. Aryll’s face lit up and she squealed, running over and taking it gently from his grasp.
“Oh it’s perfect! You totally fixed it!” she said, looking through the glass. “Thank you so much Four!”
“No problem, glad I could help,” Four grinned, and then got tugged away again by Crimson.
“Come onnnnn,” Crimson groaned, and Four gave in and let him pull him outside with one last wave at Aryll.
They went out the back door and saw Sage at the swing set, flopped on a swing on his stomach, expression glum. Azure was happily swinging in the swing next to him, and he waved as Four came out, pumping his legs so he’d go higher.
“Look Four! I’m taller than you!” he called as he swung up into the air, and Four smiled.
“Wow, looks like it. Hi Azure. And hi Sage,” he greeted next, and Sage mumbled a hi in return, poking at the dirt.
Four hummed at the lackluster response, and sat down next to him as Crimson got on another swing, looking at his little cousin. Sage kept poking at the dirt, and Four gave him a poke in return, ignoring the light shock of static he got for his trouble.
“So, you shocked Aryll again, huh.”
“Not on purpose,” Sage mumbled, adding a head to his dirt stick-figure. “She’s just so bossy sometimes, and she wasn’t listening and then I got mad and I zapped her— by accident. Honest.”
“You need better control, kiddo,” Four said, and Sage growled, kicking at his picture to erase it.
“Everyone says that. Aryll says it, Mommy says it, Daddy—”
Sage went abruptly quiet, and Four raised an eyebrow as he went back to drawing in the dirt.
“...My powers are just trouble,” he finished quietly.
Four couldn’t help his chuckle, and he leaned back against a pole as Sage gave him a pouty look.
“Why are you laughing?!”
“I’m not laughing at you, calm down,” Four assured. “It’s just that I thought the same thing sooooo many times.”
Sage looked baffled. “You thought your powers were trouble?”
“What?” Azure gasped from his swing, and Crimson jumped off, landing next to Four and Sage.
“No way!” he added, and Four nodded.
“They were, trust me. It’s not easy controlling four separate things, not to mention splitting into four pieces of yourself. Sometimes I think I’d just go crazy.”
Crimson tilted his head. “Did you?”
Four gave him a look. “No. Well, not really, anyway. No more than what would’ve happened otherwise.”
Azure hopped off his swing too, and sat next to his brothers, giving Four a curious look. Sage still seemed grumpy though, and guilty as well, and Four sighed and patted his knee.
“You’ll get better Sage, don’t worry. You just need to practice some more. It takes time for powers to donwhat you want, trust me.”
“But what if they just get worse?” Sage asked, biting his lip. “What if I do something bad with them without trying? What if I give somebody marks like... Daddy has?”
His voice got quiet at the end, and Four took his hand and squeezed it.
“Sage, I know you’d never do something like that,” he assured. “Accidents happen, but they’re just... accidents. You don’t mean for them to happen. And I don’t think you would ever accidentally give somebody marks like what your Dad has.”
That’s not something you do by accident, he thought with a brief grimace.
Four shook his head. “You just need to work on them a bit, Sage. I know you’ll start getting your powers more under control,” he said encouragingly, and Sage sighed.
“If you’re sure,” he said quietly, and Four nodded.
“Totally sure. If I can get the hang of four different powers in four pieces of myself, I bet you can handle lightning just fine.”
He poked Sage’s nose, and Sage smiled, finally starting to look better.
“Four! Are you done yet? It’s time to go!” Wild’s voice shouted from the front yard, and Four hummed and stood up.
“Looks like I’ve got to get going,” he said, and the triplets all let out awws.
“You just got here!” Azure complained.
“Do you gotta?” Crimson whined, and Four nodded.
“Yep. You know how cranky Wild gets when he’s late for things. But before we go, maybe you should say hi to him,” Four mentioned with a grin, and Crimson and Azure jumped to their feet and ran around to the front yard.
Four heard a yelp a few moments later that signaled Wild getting jumped on by cousins, and he chuckled before looking back at Sage.
“Have you apologized to Aryll for zapping her yet?” he asked, and Sage shifted awkwardly.
“...No.”
“Well that sounds like a good place to start for now,” Four said kindly. “I’ll try and come over again soon. Maybe I can help you with practicing your powers.”
“Really?” Sage said, perking up. “Thanks Four!”
He jumped up and hugged him, and Four patted his head, wishing he could do more for his little cousin. Maybe he should at least talk to Sky about some things...
“Four!” Wild called again, and Four drew back and stood up.
“C’mon, let’s go see Wild,” he said with a smile.
Sage returned it and took his hand, and the two of them walked around to the front yard, watching as Crimson and Azure both managed to pull Wild to the ground, squealing with laughter.
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000-pawz · 5 hours
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I NEEEED MORE DAD BONEDO HEADCANONS THEY ARE SO SILLY
OKAY OKAY (more under the cut cause i got carried away HELP) also this is my new universe guys so if u see more dad bnd posts, THIS IS THE REFERENCE I LOVE DAD BND
sungho
⭐ sungho girl dad agenda! no arguments!!! i also think sungho would have the most kids for some reason??? maybe 3? elementary age twins and then a baby (i will hold on to this for as long as i live)
⭐ he always wears the baby harness everywhere he goes
⭐ brings all the snacks to every single game. he's the cooler dad with all the caprisuns and cheese sticks
⭐ wakes up super early to make breakfast for everyone and pack lunches
⭐ helps his kids with all their homework and art projects. if his daughter shows up in your doorway in the middle of the night saying they forgot they had a project due tomorrow, he will run to the store at 1 am to buy glue sticks and cardstock to make sure his baby has a project to show for tomorrow
⭐ can be a little overprotective, but he just wants his babies to be safe!!! always reminds his kids that he'll come running whenever they need him
riwoo
⭐ i think riwoo would be a toddler boy dad!!! literally like an even minier riwoo
⭐ when his son was a newborn, he spent most of his time doing skin to skin contact, just soaking up the new feelings of being a father
⭐ supports his kid through EVERYTHING like if he wants to dress up as a pretty princess, he'd buying two tutus on his way home
⭐ very gentle with his disciplining. if his son draws on the wall, he'll show him how to clean it up and then softly explain why it's bad!
⭐ has a hard time saying no and WILL give his kid cake for breakfast if he asks
⭐ loves loves loves cuddling while watching animated movies, sharing a big blanket and snacks with his baby <333
jaehyun
⭐ girl dad to two girls!!! they're a year or two apart
⭐ #1 family guy and the leader of the neighborhood dad group chat
⭐ spoils them so so so so much!!! you literally have to tell him to stop buying them new clothes every other day because you're running out of closet space ><
⭐ shows off his kids to EVERYONE and always adds "they look just like their mama <3" with the biggest smile on his face
⭐ organizes all the barbeques and picnics, invites all the kids in the neighborhood (yes, even sungho's gremlin twins)
⭐ cries every time his kids make him a gift and gives them the biggest hug ever
⭐ also cries on every single birthday because why are they growing up so fast!!!!
taesan
⭐ i see taesan as a girl dad tbh </3 he'd probably only have one daughter too
⭐ reads his kids the most outrageous bedtime stories like why are you reading "1984" by george orwell to a four-year-old
⭐ would let his daughter record a silly intro for one of his songs and show her how he makes music
⭐ takes soooo many pictures of his daughter, like half of his camera roll is his daughter and the other half is you
⭐ his daughter always has the best outfits!!! would love matching outfits too
⭐ i think his daughter would subtly adopt his opinionated nature and then he would be confused as to why she's so sassy and opinionated >< the apple doesn't fall far from the tree taesan
leehan
⭐ boy and girl dada!!! <333 i think the girl would be older too?
⭐ is super annoying during drop-off and probably yells out the window how much he loves them just to embarrass them a bit
⭐ lets his kids do the most random things to his hair... you'll come home and leehan will have a head full of bows, cars, and stickers (you have to help him get the knots out later that night)
⭐ the easiest dad to talk to ever. never gets upset at his kids for confiding in him and always gives them the best advice
⭐ falls asleep in one of the kid's beds every night because putting them to bed is the most exhausting task ever
⭐ teaches his kids how to care for fish and lets them redecorate the take every now and then
⭐ takes his kids on random trips to aquariums, parks, museums (and no, he never asks for permission from you so you always find out in the most random ways, like your son showing you his new shark plushie from the gift shop)
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neckromantics · 13 hours
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"On those days when Astarion longs to see the sun the most, you do your very best to bring it to him."
Pairing: GN!Tav/Astarion (or reader if you'd like)
WC: 2000ish
CW: Brief nudity. A bit of angst? I have it in my head that this is right after the events of the game, and Astarion is not yet over his choice to give up the sun. Cazador is mentioned (yucky). Also, Astarion refers to the m/c as his "little love" which we have established is just something he'd call anyone regardless of their size.
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It isn't very long after the fall of the Elder brain that you begin to notice it.
You know he tries not to dwell on things too much–what could have been and all of that–even if he doesn't necessarily regret his decision. Most nights he seems so perfectly happy with the life the two of you are carving out for yourselves that you're almost convinced his so-called hypersensitivity barely even crosses his mind, but you'd be a fool not to see it.
It's an ever-burning desire that radiates off of him the moment his gaze zeroes in on that small sliver of light that's snuck its way through the cracks in the thick curtains that cover your bedroom windows. A yearning that has his beautiful, sharp-toothed grin slipping just long enough for you to catch notice when the two of you have lost track of time and get caught outside just as the light begins to peek over the horizon line.
He must think you are a fool with the way he brushes you off. Astarion's ever ready to slap on that old mask of indifference when you've finally built the courage to ask about it. Quick as he's long since practiced, that hollow, unbothered laugh spills forth while he waves your doting off as if you're being ridiculous.
You're just as quick to argue, ever persistent when it comes to him, after all.
He should know by now that you possess the uncanny ability to see right through it. His words, not yours. In reality, you think he should know by now that he's just not as good at lying as he thinks he might be.
That being said, you know your lover better than anyone else, of course. No matter how stubborn his fanged ass is, you hate to know that there's some part of him somewhere that's still hurting, and that this isn't something the two of you can just stab at until it gets better.
It makes you wish you could do more. That you could work faster– triple your efforts into finding a solution even though you know there is no use. A cure to his aversion to the sun isn't going to just drop into your laps because one of you wished hard enough. May never fall into your laps at all, truth be told.
So, what's your temporary solution to this long-term problem? Your bandaid to the raw wound that is his re-introduction to a world veiled in darkness?
Well.
Sometimes, when you're supposed to be resting, you'll sneak away from him.
You're never gone for too long– maybe just a handful of hours at the most– and you hardly dare to stray much further than the garden on the off chance he awakens and wonders where the hell you went off to without leaving so much as a note.
After taking some time to mess about in the vegetable garden until you're all tuckered out, you've picked the perfect spot to rest.
Today, you've chosen the soft patch of clover just outside your bedroom window to stretch out on like a lazy, old cat. Sprawled out among the greenery, you bask for as long as your mortal body can withstand it, and then some.
Your ears catch onto a familiar tune–a new family of birds as they chirp away from their nest on the roof of your porch. It's a tiny, little thing that you can see the very top of if you tiptoe in just the right place, a bundle of sticks and leaves, and cotton–meticulously crafted by two doting parents and placed rather strategically (as far away from any of the stray cats your lover has secretly been feeding as possible).
If you listen carefully, you can hear a set of new hatchlings as they cry out for food. It's such a sweet little sound that one could almost miss out on it, and you're thankful for Astarion's freakish vampire hearing since you probably would be missing out on it if he hadn't pointed it out to you the moment they had hatched.
You can't help but sigh, all soft and dreamy, as you listen intently to the world around you. After everything thats happened, it's so nice to just be able to exist again.
The ground beneath you is so soft compared to the unforgiving earth you'd grown used to while camping in the middle of the most treacherous places–a soothing cool against your back as you comb your fingers through the grass and let yourself fall more lax. The sound of the breeze as it rattles in the trees, the bubbling of a nearby stream, and the buzzing of dozens of little worker bees have your eyelids growing heavy. It won't be too long at all before you find yourself nodding off.
You'd brought a book with you. It's one of the many you'd acquired on your long journey to Baldur's Gate, an adventure novel that you'd intended to delve into to keep your mind occupied as you lay, dog-eared and long forgotten in your lap as you dream of an adventure of your own.
Sometimes, it's difficult not to feel selfish for doing the very thing Astarion no longer has the option to do, but you try to force the feeling away as quickly as it comes on. Mostly because you know him, and you know he'd call you an idiot for feeling such a silly thing like guilt on his account.
And, in truth? While you wouldn't dare give up your life with Astarion for anything (Gods, you would give up the sun forever in a heartbeat if he asked you to), you have to admit these sunlit hours are something rather precious. You suppose, if you're really honest, these little sneak-aways of yours are just as much for you as they are for him.
So, you simply count yourself lucky as you bask like a salamander on a warm rock until your skin becomes dewy and you can feel the warm flush of blood just beneath. It's only a job well done once the heat begins to feel unbearable, and you let yourself stumble up the porch stairs and back inside the cottage for a nice cool drink of water before you go too far.
Then, off to bed, you go.
It always takes a moment for your eyes to adjust to the dim candlelight of your bedroom, but once they do, they immediately zero in on his form–tangled up in the bedsheets and in a trance so deep one could almost mistake it for slumber. Or, death, since the eerie lack of rise and fall in his back tells you he's no longer breathing.
The door shuts behind you with a click, and your vampire sits up so quickly that you nearly jump out of your skin, air catching hard in your lungs as you contain a pathetic, startled squeak. There's no time to scold yourself for waking him, however, because your eyes meet his ruby ones as they glint behind lids that lay heavy from rest. Bless him, groggy as he is. He starts making these half-awake grabby hands at you that almost have you sprinting toward the bed at full speed.
There's no stopping the blatant giddiness in your stride as you make your way over, borrowed book tossed haphazardly on the bedside table before you shrug out of your tunic and worm your way beneath the sheets.
His outstretched hands are icy in your molten grip, and a shiver rattles up your spine as you crawl over him, plant yourself square onto his bare thighs, and snuggle down close.
The unusual warmth to your skin alarmed him the very first time you came in from one of your little trysts with the sun. He'd flinched away from you with a sound so startled, that it was almost like he'd been burned. The back of a pale hand pressed to your damp forehead like he was worried you'd suddenly fallen ill, and all you could do was laugh at how endearing it was as his expression grew increasingly concerned.
The birds outside still sing to you through the open window, cracked just enough to let in some fresh air, but not enough for the curtains to catch any errant breezes.
Astarion can't help but sigh, all soft and dreamy, as he listens intently to the world outside. It's so nice to just be able to exist. No looming threats of fear, pain, or death that could be waiting for him around any corner. Just this, right now.
Just you.
Astarion had long since grown used to the ever-present hollowness that came with his undead status. A cold, aching, eternal abyss that took root in the very part of his soul he'd lost to the hands of his former master–it was an agony that began the moment he opened his eyes in that gods' forsaken casket, six feet beneath the earth, and followed him around the shadows for the better part of some two hundred years.
He'd learned how to ignore it with time, of course. Had to find other things to preoccupy himself with to push it to the very back of his mind. Not that he ever had any spare time to dawdle over the insignificant issue of his eternally bound soul, or anything. Duty called, and all that.
It wasn't until he could finally feel the sun again that he could remember what being warmer than room temperature felt like, and somehow, that horrible feeling he'd spent so long trying to forget stayed so far from him that it might as well have never existed in the first place.
And now, as fast as that privilege was given to him, it was ripped away all because he decided to not take after his so-called master and sacrifice the seven thousand souls needed for him to ascend into an all-powerful vampire lordship.
...
Although, surprisingly enough, it isn't all that bad.
He's still free, after all. Will forever be free. That wretch, Cazador, is a pile of ash and bone at the bottom of the ocean somewhere, and Astarion is here. Free to do whatever he bloody well likes with his undeath, now–to feed, and feel, and fuck when and if he wants to, how he wants to, and no one will ever take that away from him again.
Oh, and how he has you.
His sweet, little love, who basks in the sun for him until you're beyond woozy from it and comes clinging to him in a haze. You steal away every ounce of that wretched chill that's settled into him while you were away, and then some.
His grip on you tightens as you sway in his arms, nose pressing to the side of your neck on pure instinct as you settle further onto his lap. The steady thump of your jugular is just about equal parts soothing and tempting, and he allows himself a bit of indulgence. Cool lips rest upon the pulsating skin there just to get a feel.
Greedily now, he takes in a full, shaky breath of unneeded air to let your scent crash into him, and you don't disappoint. Never have.
You smell of cut herbs and wet dirt. Of the marigolds, you'd so carefully sewn into the soil out front while he watched from the window. Of salt, and sweat, and something so indescribably you that he can't stop his mouth from watering. You smell of warmth, and life, and sunlight.
The sunshine clings to you like dewdrops to a rose petal, and he can't get enough of it. Like his own personal little piece of the sun is sat right in his arms.
When you press your hot, maybe slightly damp, palms to his cheeks to get a good look at him, he sighs again. All high and thin. Pale lashes flutter–tickle against the pads of your thumbs as they sooth across his closed lids.
He basks in it.
For a long moment, he can feel it again. He's standing in that patch of sunlight himself. On that ravaged beach. In that forest while you lay sleeping behind him. Right outside your bedroom window while the breeze rattles in the trees, the stream babbles over rocks, and the buzzing of dozens of little worker bees has his eyelids growing heavy.
He can almost see the light shining through the skin there, and it doesn't burn or blind him. Nothing hurts. Nothing aches, not even in the slightest. That hollowness that's followed him about the shadows for so long has gone away again.
You may not know it, but to him, moments like this? They're worth everything.
They're enough.
Not because they have to be, but simply because they are.
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ingravinoveritas · 5 months
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Just saw a clip of the Staged bloopers and cut scenes and it made me wonder if you'd ever written a post about David saying "you're the Debbie McGee to my Paul Daniels". Non UK people might know that Paul Daniels was a stage magician who was very popular in the 80s and might even know that Debbie McGee was his assistant but they might not know that they were married for 28 years until Paul Daniels died in 2016. David is calling Michael his wife, or at the very least his glamorous assistant 😳🤣
No need to post if you've already written about it, I went quite a way back through your blog to try and check but, well, you've written a lot about Staged 🤣
Hi there! Oh gosh, I have not actually written a post about David saying that, mainly because being a non-UK person, I did not actually know who Paul Daniels or Debbie McGee are, or that they were married (I think the other part of the reason I don't know them is that they were both a bit before my time). So thank you so much for this delicious tidbit/insight! Let's get a visual up here as we start to talk about it:
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The first thing I will say is that I have seen the Staged outtakes, and what makes me love this moment so much is that this was very definitely not part of the script, but rather something David said himself, without prompting. He says it so earnestly as well, as if this particular reference is one that is specifically for them but also one that he does not mind other people hearing. David had to know that this could have made it to the final cut, so the fact that he said it despite that fact seems to speak volumes.
Again, could this just be David joking and calling Michael his sidekick/assistant? Absolutely. But it's incredibly hard not to see the deeper meaning potentially at play, especially when we consider that David has called Michael his wife on at least two other occasions. The second instance in particular is still so remarkable to me, because it wasn't in a promotional or media context, but to a private audience. It's further bolstered by Rob Wilkins referring to Michael and David as "the loveliest couple," which again is a specific choice of words. So it does make one wonder if David and Michael have quietly been calling themselves that for some time, at least to their personal circles (a long time, even, given that Staged 2 aired at the beginning of 2021).
Regardless of whether David's comment was meant as a joke or as a sly allusion to the nature of his and Michael's relationship, what I love most about this (and what I think we could all agree on) is that David is saying that Michael is the person he makes magic with. Magic we saw in Good Omens, and then subsequently in a few seasons of Staged, and again in GO season 2. And with any luck, magic we will get to see Michael and David make together for a long, long time to come.
Also, for those who have never seen what Paul Daniels and Debbie McGee look like (as I hadn't), I need to share this picture:
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...And also say that I really would love to see Michael in that outfit and headpiece on the left. His hair is as curly as Debbie's, so we can definitely see how lovely that headpiece would look on such a head of hair. Not to mention the pink sparkly I Dream of Jeannie-esque outfit and coordinating eye shadow, which Michael would absolutely slay in. I will never know peace until we see a picture of him in that outfit, and I think he would love to wear it, especially given how much we know Michael loves drag. Couples Halloween costume this year with David? We can only hope...
Again, thank you for sharing this most excellent information, which I hope my followers will also very much enjoy. Thanks for writing in! x
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bombusbombus · 8 months
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recoloured this old warmup to repost cause I had it on my mind.
If Clark is going to be in earth 19 (gotham by gaslight universe) (they're publishing more gbg and clark is going to be there), then listen to me listen to me, he needs to be a cowboy. Superman needs to be a cowboy in the big city. I am SOO serious about this. I am on my knees, DC, let me write for you, I would add so many themes about modern technology versus traditional knowledge and sprinkle in some anticolonialism PLEASE.
You could have a cute little Daily Planet that has to struggle against yellow journalism in a smoky little backroom & setting their own type, a la The Truth. You could have gentlemen's clubs. You could have a brutal war against unions in the streets and one lone titan of industry giving into their demands. You could have the exact same 3 batkids from the movie, there's literally nothing to improve on there. You could have Clark tear down a barbed wire fence with his bare hands, in a futile attempt to unravel colonialist ideas of private land ownership. Imagine the alien knows more about the earth, the real earth, than the knight in his city does. Imagine the American dream failing Clark, who has to go back east to the big city, failing Bruce, who lost his parents, failing everyone over and over until they decide to build something without it. In an era of rampant exploitation, what do real heroes look like?
Or you can make the justice league fight big steampunk robots ig I'm excited either way.
#all that to say ask me about the gotham by gaslight superbat friendship I've been thinking about for a LITERAL YEAR...#the original colouring on this was only the sort of ass you can achieve with a blue light filter at 2am#also I can hear you saying “why do your warmups usually look better than your final drawings Moose?”#(shh let me imagine I have a huge rapt audience)#well. I have aphantasia which makes it much harder to make things up than to draw from life#however my passion is cartooning. so I'm a little fucked#I also have a disability that sometimes makes me run a temperature when I overexert myself mentally#so drawing cartoons can make me run a literal fever#whereas drawing from life is more abt hand skill than brain skill so it doesn't fuck me up#but that's why I don't draw much anymore lol. Arranging people and items and background on a canvas is excruciating trial and error#but when you already have a pic the photographer has done some of that for you and you just need to collage preexisting images together#and once you have the elements of the picture then it's easy to retroactively construct a balanced tableau#tl:dr creativity is hard and makes CPU explode but editing is easy#that being said if a mutual wants me to draw an animal or something for them & gives me a reference I will drop everything to do it. dm me.#seriously I'm good w anything organic like plants or animals or horrible growths#hell if u do thumbnails I'll draw the full thing. I'll write w you. I fuckin love collaboration.#might be a bad writing partner though cause I'm neurotic as hell#.#I just remembered that Dan Garret was in earth 19 last time it was shown in a comic#no offense to all you dan-heads out there. but I think he should die.#cause I would be. obsessed. With 1890s Chicago cryptid Ted Kord#I think he should be 23 and terrible#the most steampunk guy around. Probably takes cocaine. Still a college student (gettin his fourth degree). Hasn't left his house in a month#not to mention futureboy Booster in his kevlar vest with his iphone named skeets
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talentforlying · 4 months
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one of these days i'm going to write up all that i've changed from azzarello's bullshit era and the one (1) piece i've kept from milligan (and also changed) and the only thing currently stopping me is that it is going to be so, so inside-baseball incomprehensible. and i almost never want to go reading/screencapping azzarello and milligan to add references but i Want to add references.
canon is goop, just know that we continue to ride the bus down "hellblazer ended at #250 and looks like swiss cheese before that" street.
#( ooc. ) OUT OF CIGS.#i'm doing page maintenance before i fuck off to work rip it's got me thinking#anyway i think i said WAY back on this blog that a side goal of mine is to make hellblazer lore accessible to non-comic readers where i can#bc it's such a Heavy comic & i love it so much & i always felt Terrible recommending it to people only for them to be disgusted#and like. @ past me that particular goal is NOT as easy as you thought it would be lmao#esp because i have a habit of getting VERY detail-oriented when it comes to talking about hellblazer i think#but by GOD it's still a goal. i can put in some motherfucking references here and there when i talk about The Lore#like. azzarello's writing style never translates well for me in synopsis bc he Loves to put the audience in the outside perspective#where we are bystanders/with the rest of the bystanders to constantine's actions and not to his motivations/inner monologue#and i HATE that. hellblazer has ALWAYS been about what this guy has going on underneath the masked exterior#all the things you can't say out loud when you're queer and working class trying to survive in 70s-80s-90s england#but that you FEEL with your WHOLE fucking chest. how that feeling drives you to enjoy little rebellions wherever you can get them#(also azzarello just fucking Sucks LMAO but i'm talking style rn)#so i end up relying on frusin's art to tell the story a little more bc i think he understands the Theatre of constantine's public persona#and when that theatre is Absent then it's really REALLY noticeable. so frusin keeps me in it most of the time#and if i'm digging into frusin art then i'm Going to want to compare it to older panels bc i like body language consistency#milligan on the other hand has NOTHING to save his sorry ass bc his writing is drop-jaw fucking terrible AND the artist seems to like it#but the loss of john's thumb being tied to his mental health (ignoring the bullshit with shade) has always felt. important to me somehow id#anyway MUCH thinking about my favorite loser on this about-to-be-annoying day shdjksd he has been done so dirty#hellblazer brain go brrrr
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satellitesunset · 2 years
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myle.text
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mysicklove · 6 months
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Summary: four-year-old Yuuji didnt mean to bring up Mr. Gojos crush on you, which of course, leads to Sukuna's harsh teasing.
cw: fem! reader (reader gets referred to as girl, pretty, and mommy), curse words, suggestive language, lion king spoilers (lol)
wc: 1.8k
a/n: i love making sukuna an absolute menace. poor yuuji tho. i think i am going to introduce gojo as a character, because I think it would be entertaining to piss Sukuna off lol.
big brother au masterlist
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“Su-kuna!”
“The fuck did you just call me?”
“Language,” You scold, not peering up from your book. Yuuji lays sprawled out on top of the both of you – his head in your lap, and practically purring in content when you gently pet the top of his head, while his little legs are on Sukuna’s thighs. 
Yuuji giggles into your shirt, shaking his head mischeviously. “Bad word Su-kuna!”
In an instant, you feel the toddler being ripped away from your lap with a tiny screech. The noise startles you, and you perk up from your book to look to where the boy has gone to. But, you aren't surprised to see him dangling in the air by his ankle – Sukuna’s long fingers skillfully hold onto Yuujis chubby little leg tight enough to not drop him, but gently enough to not cause physical harm. 
The boy doesn't seem to mind this position, being in it so frequently. Giggles and squeals leave the toddler's mouth as he stares at his now upside down brother. “You learning how to speak correctly?”
Yuuji nods his head, and his hands try to reach for Sukunas shirt. You rest your head on the man's shoulder, chuckling at the boy who was squirming in the air. “Uh-huh! F-Fush-i-guro taught me!” The dark haired toddlers last name was hard to pronounce, and it was amusing watching how Yuuji sounded it out.
Sukuna makes a loud groaning noise and you cover your mouth to hold back another laugh. “Of course you made friends with Gojo’s new brat. First he hits on my girl, and now his new kid is gonna manipulate this idiot.” He shakes Yuuji in the air to demonstrate his point, ignoring the squeals. 
You roll your eyes with a laugh. “Just because Megumi taught Yuuji how to say your name correctly, doesn't mean the kid is manipulating him. Y’know Yuuji struggles with words sometimes.” You watch as the child in turn shakes his head in defiance, letting out a “Nu-uh!” that only makes you smile. You turn back over to your lover, kissing his cheek. “Aw, does it make you sad that our little Yuuji is growing up?”
“No,” he quickly rebuttals, “Brat isnt growing up fast enough. I am mad that you're not denying the fact that the white haired idiot is flirting with you.” You know that wasn't the full truth, but alas, Sukuna was extremely stubborn and would never admit that he didn't want his brother to grow up. 
“Fush-i-guro says Mr. Gojo thinks you are pretty!” Yuuji announces, beaming at you from the air. You hold back a wince, smiling awkwardly back at the innocent words of the toddler. You watch as the boys cheeks begin to flush from all the blood rushing to his head, and immediately as if sensing it, Sukuna flips over the boy and instead places him on his lap, holding onto the back of his neck.
The action makes you smile, noticing the thumb that rubs gently at the pale skin. But when you glance at Sukuna, you notice quickly that he was anything but happy. Sukunas dark eyes twitches, flickering to you, and he speaks between his teeth. “Did he now? I may need to have a talk with Mr. Gojo next time I pick the little pest up. Does Fushiguro say anything else?”  
“Sukuna,” you whine, realising that the hold on the boys neck was not out of affection – instead was used to trap the boy while he was questioned. “Y’know Gojo is alot. He just wants to–”
“Fush-i-guro says Mr. Gojo has a crush on Y/N!”
“Yuuji!” 
“B-But, Y/N has a crush on brother,” the boy concludes, furrowing his eyebrows with a small nod. “Right, Ku–um–Su-kuna?” He turns up to his brother, doe eyed with his head slightly cocked to the side in question. 
In response, Sukuna ruffles his hair, nearly sending the boy landing on his back. But, instead he giggles at the rough treatment, shutting his eyes and trying his best to stay upward. “The biggest crush. You make sure to tell the little brat that. Or else Mr. Gojo is going to try take her away.”
Your eyes widen and you push at his broad shoulders. “Sukuna! You're going to get him all worked up!” You exclaim, knowing the very sensitive (regarding you or Sukuna) child very well by now. You turn to the boy, whose own eyes widen as he trying to process the words. “Gojo is not trying to take me away.”
“He is going to take her away if you don't do anything, and little Megumi is going to have a new mommy.” Sukuna was grinning at the boy, as if his brother's fearful expression pleased him. You knew that he was being purposely dramatic – Gojo wasn't even technically Megumi's father, if there was a chance that you guys would ever get together (near zero) you would definitely not be the boy's new mom. But alas, Sukuna continues on with his words. “Thats why whenever you see the two of them talking you have to make sure you to scream as loud as possible.”
You cover the mans mouth before you he can spewl any more nonsense, but it was too late. Yuuji was already tearing himself from the man's lap and into yours – his lips begin to wobble and his eyes flood with tears. “Is-um-is that what you two talk about when I am with Mr. Nanami,” he warbles, thinking back to the multitude of times he has held onto his preschool teachers hand and watched you smile at the white haired man. 
“No, love,” you reassure, turning your attention instead from scolding your lover to consoling the child. “Sukuna is being mean again. Don't listen to him. Mr. Gojo and I are friends.” You ignore the look that Sukuna shoots you, showing how displeased he is at the idea of you being friends with his least favorite person. 
The boy sniffles, wiping his little fists on his face. “I-I dont want you to be Fush-i-guro’s mommy. You have to stay with me and Kuna! P-Please?” He doesn't even attempt to say his brother's name correctly, forgetting how he started the conversation all together. He was focused on trying not to cry, because his brother was sure to tease him, but it wasn't working out very well.
You kiss at his chubby cheeks, shaking your head with an exasperated look on your face, wondering how the hell you got to this conversation. “I am not, promise. I'm not going anywhere. Even if your brother is the worst, brattiest, malicious person alive, I have kinda grown attached to him. Besides, if I left who would I have movie nights with?”
“I am not a–” You shoot Sukuna a nasty glare, and he in return lets out an astonished laugh, but shrugs without care.
Your words make Yuuji perk up from your lap, and his eyes widen with glee. “You like movie nights too?” He was always begging for the three of you to watch movies together, but Sukuna always denies him considering it would end up being a cheesy Disney movie that Yuuji would fall asleep not even twenty minutes into.
“I love movie nights. Do you want to have one tonight?”
“Woah, woah, woah,” Sukuna butts in, and you spare him a glance. “Babe, we have plans tonight, remember?” He tilts his head to the side suggestively and you roll your eyes at him.
“Not anymore. Me and Yuuji are going to watch…”
“Human Earthworm 2!” The boy interjects, completely forgetting about his previous experiences with the movie, not good ones.
You poke at his cheeks, shaking your head. “I was thinking The Lion King.” 
“Yes!”
“No,” Sukuna groans, covering his eyes with his palm.
You look at him with furrowed eyebrows. “No? Why are you putting your input in? You're not watching it with us.”
Sukuna, never have been told this before, looks appalled. “The fuck you mean?”
“Bad word!” Yuuji points to him in accusation, but Sukuna just ignores him.
You cock your head to the side, a sly grin pulling at your face. “You're not invited.”
“Why not?”
The two of you make eye contact for a long second, and after a moment or two, Sukuna sighs. “You're really mad about that?” You don't say anything, just continuing to stare at him. “Okay fuck–Yes that is a curse word, astute observation you brat. I am sorry for making the kid cry again.”
“And?”
Sukuna narrows his eyes at you, but you hold your ground. Then, he turns to the boy with a sigh. “Dont scream when you see Gojo and Y/N talk, alright?” He jabs his finger into the boys chest and Yuuji nods his head rapidly in understanding. But, a foxish grin pulls at the mans face and he says, “Instead…The moment you hear him talk to her, you bite his leg.”
He barks a laugh at the confused face of his brother, but when he looks up to you, the smile falters. “Okay, c’mon it was a jo–”
You point your finger to the door. “Couch.”
“You can't kick me out of my own room!”
You don't move your finger. Yuuji glances at you, cocks his head to the side, and then mimicks your action. “Couch!”
The three of you go silent for a long minute, and at this point the boy's hand begins to tremble from holding his hand out for too long. Eventually when Sukuna realizes that there was no point of reasoning, he lets out a dramatic sigh, before crawling out of bed. 
When he notices your smug smile, he flips you off and you can't help but laugh at that. “I am coming back after the movie is done, ya hear?”
“If Yuuji does not fall asleep,” You tease in return, knowing the boy well, and Sukuna rolls his eyes. 
His eyes flicker to the boy who was snuggling up to your chest, trying to find a comfortable position to watch the movie in. Sukuna chuckles to himself, opening up the door, before turning back to the kid one last time. “Hey brat,” he calls.
“Hm?” 
“The father lion–Mufasa. He is my favorite character, so you'll bound to like him a lot. In fact, I sure do wonder if you'll get attached,” he muses, and your eyes widen when you realize what he is saying. Anything that is linked with Sukuna, Yuuji immediately falls in love with. This was bound to cause hysteria. “Enjoy the movie guys! Y/N have fun!” He calls, before shutting the door.
You pause for a moment, sighing into your hand. “Kuna likes the father lion? I want to see!”
You tried everything to avoid turning on the movie after that. But Yuuji, like his brother, was stubborn, and he desperately wanted to see the lion. He grew attached very quickly in that short period of time.
Deep laughs rumble through the house when Yuuji begins to sob over the animated lion's death. You lock the door, and Sukuna stays the night on the couch. 
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daisynik7 · 9 months
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When Nanami gets jealous, he gets mean. 
One day, you’re checking out at your favorite bakery, chatting with one of the new employees you just met the other day. Nanami stands beside you, already eyeing the poor guy suspiciously, sliding his arm around your waist, as if to make it even more apparent that the two of you are together. Still, this goes unnoticed; the man says something flirty, along the lines of I made this bread special for you today, I hope you enjoy it. He seals his fate by giving you a brazen wink, and you’re surprised that Nanami manages to keep his cool, though you can feel him tense up next to you. Before he can say anything, you pay quickly, grabbing your baked goods, fleeing the scene with your husband fuming silently in tow. 
The following week, when you suggest going to the same bakery the next morning for breakfast, Nanami is especially enthusiastic when he agrees. It doesn’t strike you as odd, until later that night. 
You’re cuddling in bed, and as usual, you both start getting handsy with each other. He slips beneath your top, flicking his thumbs against your perked nipples. His mouth grazes your neck, licking at your pulse points. You giggle, ticklish at the sensation, but then he nips at your skin with his teeth, immediately sucking on the spot hard. You whine his name, squirming at the sting. “Nanami!” 
“What is it, sweetheart?” His mouth is hot on your ear, one hand trailing down between your legs, rubbing your pussy through your panties. “You don’t like it?”
You do, of course, so you say, “I do like it. Just…no hickies. We’re seeing people tomorrow.” You’re referring to your friends, who you’re meeting for dinner. But Nanami has someone else in mind. 
“But that’s exactly why I want to,” he growls, sucking on your neck again, making his mark on you. “Everyone is going to know you’re mine.”
And how can you deny him when he’s being so fucking naughty right now, slipping his fingers inside you, grinding his body against yours, leaving more love bites on your neck and across your collarbone. When he gets on top of you, folding you into a mating press, pounding his cock in and out of your sloppy cunt, you can’t help but notice his gaze flitting to the hickies he’s left on your skin. His pace increases, marveling at his pretty little slut imprinted by his kisses.
Even that is not enough. No, he has to mark you up in every way possible. After he fucks you into three orgasms, clit swollen and rubbed raw by his thumb, he’s ready to bust. He pulls out of you abruptly, dropping your legs back onto the bed, crawling up to straddle your chest. He strokes his cock in his fist as you watch him, moans pouring out of your drooling mouth, hungry for it. It doesn’t take much longer for him to shoot his load onto you, painting your love bites in his pearly white cum.
The next morning at the bakery, you greet the employee, Nanami beside you with a small grin on his face. It takes a minute of idle chit-chat for the man to notice, pointing at his own neck to ask, “Are those...?”
Before you can answer, your husband slides his arm around your waist, pulling you close to him, smirking at the employee. “Ah, well, I made these special for you last night, I hope you enjoy it.” Nanami gives you a loud smooch on the cheek, grabs the pastries, and leads you out the door, leaving the man too stunned to speak and you with your face buried in your hands, mortified. 
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soarrenbluejay · 3 months
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Since I’ve been encouraged to actually share my funny little blorbo ideas here’s another one gang;
Danny moves to Gotham on scholarship for engineering, because the Fentons may be infamous but they’re also insanely brilliant and besides both he and Jazz are showing every sign of embarrassed child of a super genius syndrome, so while the bats are keeping a close eye on him Just In Case, duke is also thinking of introducing him to the Our Parents Are Maniacs But Anyway club maybe after the first month or so.
Gotham does not go for standard dorm living bc of his ‘condition’ and lack of wanting to constantly spook/gaslight a roommate. Besides, living with two small children is a dorm sounds like a disaster in action.
So Danny signs up as a mechanic in Crime Alley, buys himself a teeny weensy lil apartment and Makes It Work. He has been all year after showing up with a de aged Dani and Dan in Amnity after all, and that had gone,,, fine? (The entire town, observing how Danny had been getting increasingly more uncomfortable around his godfather prior to the cloning incident, then just dropped off the face of the earth for several months, the first two weeks stuck in Vlad’s basement enduring horrors and the next Too Many desperately fapping around in the Ghost Zone to get everything handled. All the clones live, all 13 of them. Bunch of them are stuck in the Ghost Zone due to constant need for ectoplasm, but eh, plenty of Zone born never leave, so. One, in the future, apprentices under a green warrior lady on Pandora’s suggestion, another is working in the Eternal Library with Ghost Writer, etc etc. so Danny eventually came back to Amnity with one small child under each arm very obviously traumatized by Somethingn with vlad and doesn’t like being alone with him,,, or touched without warning,, and immediately and passionately proclaims the kids his but struggles to explain how or why,, look some very reasonable assumptions are drawn okay. So the town does the very reasonable thing and does the midwestern equivilant of excommunicating Vlad, except it’s a lot more run him out with pitchforks vibes since he’s the Mayor. Anyway)
He is immediately loved, because while non Gothamites are usually more of a pain than they’re worth, everyone in a while someone even from out of town will just fit in so nicely it’s uncanny for everyone involved. Addams family vibes, it’s referred to as ‘making it home’, just personal hc. He is protective of all the kids playing in the parks and street girls that can totally take care of themselves on their corners but find it HILARIOUS when he just tackles a dick like a wild animal full force no warning. He can fix anything it seems, but refuses to work with weapons. Reasonable enough, people get twitchy about gangs sometimes. Danny mentions being not against Hood or anything, but he’s not going to work for him, littles to take care of and all, but had past experience with ‘Dora and that inheritance mess with her brother he was being a real prick about’ so everyone assumes it’s the equivilant of him having Done His Time and being plenty good for a life time and respects it as long as none of that petty midwestern small town hotshots bring any of that shit over here. And they don’t, because said individuals are on the other side of the mortal veil, so happy day.
See I really love deaged!Dan because he’s just a grumpy lil guy. But he’s also killed millions. He’s so protective of his loved ones, but held back by blending in and also being Smol that it comes off more bitey kitten than anything else. Dani, of course, is a terror, so she fits right in with the crowd.
And sorry gang, but a bunch of kids on their own in Gotham in a poor side of the city just isn’t going to get any attention: that’s just business as usual really. What first gets attention on Danny is not his ‘condition’ or being mistaken for a meta (which he legally probs has an argument for even without the gene bc like these bitches don’t know how metaism works anyway so) or alien (I’m 90% sure he’d be covered by the alien protection act by virtue of being half ‘not from earth’), but because Danny despite best efforts is a Weird Guy.
He grew up in what could only be described as a low level villain level and spent most of high school dealing with smack downs and spiritual invasion. He’s never really processed that any of that is not in fact Normal. Also, he’s capable of making Anything if given the insides of a toaster, blender and alarm clock, and could probably rewrite the circuits of the apartment blindfolded and improve them 1000% even if it ABSOLUTELY would not be up to code.
And sure, things slip every once in a while, bits of spectral ice here, small floating incident there, but everyone just Minds Their Buisness ya know? You really gunna mess with the guy that personally ensured that when your car got flattened by a fight with Killer Croc, you were still able to get in to work the next day by some wizardry? Really?
But Gotham is a city so cursed it’s probably in the exponents countwise, so of course there is a) a flourishing community of magic users and assorted supernatural weirdos and b) a whole lot of shit for Mega Overpowered Ghost King Danny to idly pick at day to day in order to help with his protecting other Obsession. Gotham has plenty of heroes, but by god do they need the spiritual equivilant of an electrician/priest.
Still, Danny, as a baby ancient under a facet of Kronos and KING OF THE DEAD is like, way, way out of their scope to be able to grok, so it mostly just comes off as you know, a family of banshees or something. When asked, Danny very haltingly says he was briefly dead but then revived, which neatly explains his Weird Ass aura and makes it SPECTACULARLY AWKWARD to ask further about. So everyone nods politely, and goes back to their lives after double checking no nefarious bullshit was being pulled.
Then, of course, Vlad finally tracks them down. The whole neighborhood is altered in short order because he doesn’t bother trying to hide being a Rich Bitch or how he’s sneering down his nose at people on the sidewalk. Every connects the dots when Danny paniks. Dani and Dan’s daycare are staffed with some extra, very buff set of hands within the hour. Jerry, Hood’s third in command, personally shows up to the garage Danny is working at to talk things out with him bc he knows he does t like the deal with this stuff due to past unspecified circumstances but well, they guys had already started fucking with him, you see. Stole his tires, spray painted the windows, pickpocketed him blind, and when he retreated tipped off the police to the drugs they’d planted in the glove box.
Danny might not have been born in Gotham, but he was one of them. And the Alley takes care of it own.
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sunnami · 5 months
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❝i am half-agony, half-hope. . . i have loved none but you.❞
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summary: how the marauders loved you in their time. featuring harry potter the time-traveller and sixth-wheel.
pairing/s: poly!marauders x reader. (james potter x reader, lily evans x reader, remus lupin x reader, and sirius black x reader.)
tags: reader is referred to as she/her and a mother throughout the whole fic[!], reader is a violent gremlin who craves blood but the marauders love you for that, implied child abuse[!], mentions of blood and violence[!], disgustingly sappy poetic fluff, no angst, happy ending, not proofread we die like finnick odair, edited: very minor detail.
note: there is little plot, it’s just the marauders and their adoration for you. thank you all so much for your kind responses to my first marauders fic :(( ilysm! i hope you enjoy this one as well! because there are parts when i was writing that i ended up kicking my feet in the air and smiling to myself.
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“MY NAME IS HARRY POTTER. I come from twenty-years in the future, you’re my mum — one of my ‘em, actually. It’s complicated. And you’re married to James Potter, Remus Lupin, and Sirius Black.” 
You blink. 
“Get the fuck out of my room!” 
Harry James Potter has dodged many things in his life. Killing curses, jinxes, girls, Draco Malfoy, and Dudley’s sloppy punches, but he’s never had to dodge his sixteen-year-old mother’s fuzzy slipper before. (Godric, that sounds weird, even in his head.) He doesn’t know precisely how he arrived here. In the Slytherin common room, to be exact, in your dorm. Harry remembers duelling with Death Eaters, Hermione calling his name, and a flash of light hitting him square in the chest, then he remembers waking up in the cold tiles of the snake dungeon. He nearly throws himself off the window when he meets your eyes, bleary from interrupted sleep — it’s not often he gets to meet [read: one of] his dead parents, after all, three had been brutally murdered by Voldemort, and one killed by his own loony cousin. He misses Sirius, though. A lot. And right about now, he could do with some of Hermione’s nagging and brilliant plan-making. 
At present — or past, Harry guesses — he watches you scramble out from your duvet, hand clumsily reaching for your wand as you snarl at him. He wonders if his mother knows that he’s encountered other creatures far more threatening than her. Oh shit, he realizes with all the forces of an angry Hermione Granger, isn’t this the last thing he’s supposed to do? But, well, Harry has given, and given, so much of himself all for the greater good — just this once, he’d like to see his parents alive and well. Even if they were currently trying to blast him into the walls. 
“If you’d just let me explain, mum—!” Harry pleads, nearly dropping his glasses after dodging one of your stinging hexes. Godric, you’re crazy. “Please!” 
“Stop calling me that!” You screech, eyes set ablaze.  Harry finds that you’re quite dynamic with your attacks. A hairbrush, followed by a stinging jinx, then a thick History of Magic textbook — which rudely hits him in the face, but he doesn’t dare complain because you’re his mother, and he’s respectful like that — and after you’ve exhausted your breath, running him into a corner, and your nostrils flare with the stubbornness of a lion, you point the tip of your wand at him. “If this is another one of the Prewett’s shitty pranks, I want you to leave! You are in the girls’ dormitory beyond midnight, and so help me, if you aren’t walking out that door in the next five seconds, I will kill you and string you up by your bottoms for everyone in school to see! Maybe all your stupid rumours of me being a Death-Eater might come true after all!” 
“You’re a Death-Eater?” Harry asks dumbly. 
You growl furiously, and Harry figures that was not the right thing to say. “I wonder what McGonagall would say if I delivered your head to her on a silver platter.” 
“Professor,” Harry corrects with a toothy grin. “Professor McGonagall.” 
You slam his head against the wall.
Definitely the wrong thing to say. 
Harry groans, little Dobby heads floating around his vision. Why was this so much harder than actually facing Voldemort? Quick, he needed to think of something, otherwise he’d end up eviscerated to ashes on your cold, stone floors. Harry is pretty sure you’d use his remains as decoration to send off a message to your enemies. 
“You hate your father,” Harry slurs through the pain, remembering Remus’s stories of how you were the gentlest magical being he’s ever had the privilege to love — now that Harry thinks about it, Remus was being extremely biased, nothing about you is gentle at all. “He’s forcing you to marry someone old enough to be your grandfather. You love to read Muggle literature but had to stop when your father burnt your whole collection of books. Your favorite novel is Persuasion by Jane Austen. It’s the one book you carry with you everywhere, you could never get tired of it.”  
Your grip on his shoulders falters, but the fury in your eyes crackles. “This isn’t funny.” 
“It’s not meant to be funny, mum,” Harry croaks, voice cracking pathetically — strange how this is the most he’s ever uttered the word, mum; it’s a peculiar string of letters, foreign on his tongue. “You have tremors in your left leg from when your father cast the Cruciatus curse on you. One of your dearest friends is a Hogwarts house-elf named Pipley. You cheated on your Transfiguration essay once, and—” 
“That’s enough!” You bark, eyes narrowed in dangerous slits. “I don’t know where you heard those from, you creepy, little stalker, but if you want to keep breathing, then I suggest you shut up.” 
Harry scoffs — you don’t understand. Everything he’s learned about you is from Sirius and Remus. They talk about you with whispered devotion, your name like a prayer on their lips, their eyes glazed with wistfulness as though they could see you reaching out for them — but you were dead in Harry’s time. Yet, you might as well have been alive with their tales of you. 
(“She’s a different kind of beautiful,” Sirius had said, a year after breaking out from Azkaban, sitting by the fire in Grimmauld Place, taking a swig of decade-old firewhiskey, “The kind of beautiful you don’t want to take your eyes off from because you’re afraid she’ll disappear from your eyes. But you won’t forget her, oh no, you’ll memorize the freckles and moles on her skin, the scars from her years, the light in her eyes, and the way she holds her head up high. You should have seen her, James, she. . . she was — is glorious.”) 
“I told you,” says Harry firmly — although he loves his mother very much, she’s beginning to wear him out, “My name is Harry James Potter, I come from twenty-years in the future. You are one of my parents.” A lightbulb flashes in his head. He squirms in your hold, reaching for his robe pocket until he finds the thing he’s looking for. Harry dangles the ring in front of you, grinning in success when your eyes flash in recognition. “It’s—” 
“A family heirloom,” You say breathlessly. The alexandrite winks under the light, a familiar gold band with the Latin inscription of your House words. “Where did you steal this from?” 
Harry rolls his eyes. “You left it for me in my Gringotts vault. It’s my heirloom now. You have to believe me, there’s no way you can deny this.” 
You take a step backwards, nibbling on your lower lip, as you stagger to your bed — Harry nearly stumbling to catch you in case you fell; adjusting to the living proof of time travel was quite difficult, he, of all people, should know. He exhales, dragging a hand down his face. “Magic, amirite?” 
You throw a pillow at him, which he catches gracefully thanks to his Seeker reflexes, as you plop down in the comforts of your quilts. “Sleep. The other girls won’t be back until the end of the holiday. We can deal with whatever this is in the morning. It’s way too early for me to process the idea of a future Potter spawn following me around.” 
Harry smiles. “Yes, mum.” 
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ONE THING THAT his fathers failed to tell him about you, and that Harry had to learn himself, was that you took ages to get ready. You sat on the chair in front of your vanity mirror, the birch wood legs whittled with snakes, and it was as though you had a Sticking Charm on the cushion. Harry didn’t know there could be so many creams, oils, and serums, and powders one put on their face. He blanches when you turn to offer him a cream for his under eyes. (“Suit yourself.” You shrug, turning to brush your cheek with dusts of pink. “Just saying, those dark circles aren’t doing you any favors.”)
“What am I like in the future?” You ask, a kind lilt to your voice, much like a warm hug, much like home. 
Harry stiffens, shoving his hands in pockets of the robes that were twice his size — you had given him the garments of Lucius Malfoy to change in, which you apparently had stolen from his room. It’s come full circle, really, the Sorting Hat had once told him he would be great in Slytherin, and now here he was, looking fabulous in green — because he was about to hurl at the feel of the velvet on his skin, knowing slimy Lucius Malfoy had worn it. (“No son—” You pause with a tight purse in your lips, as if you still can’t accept the fact. Harry doesn’t blame you. “—no son of mine will be parading around in red of all colors, future or not.” And Harry finds that he really doesn’t care, so long as you call him your son.)  
“Loved,” replies Harry gruffly, avoiding your eyes in the reflection of your mirror — they were piercing. One look and Harry wanted to spill all of his deepest, darkest secrets. He remembers the photographs in his album, the one he’s stared at so many times as a child. It’s a moving photograph of the five of you, fresh out of Hogwarts, each wearing a smile that stretched from ear-to-ear. Before Sirius and Remus, it was the only semblance of proof that Harry had — that you had once been alive. Remus is holding you by the waist in the picture, twirling you around as autumn leaves fell. You were — are — loved, and Harry thinks there’s no better description than that. 
(“I bloody hated her cat,” says Remus with a roguish quirk to his lips, regalling Harry with more talks of his parents. “Sirius, too. We just never got along with the little creature. But your mother loved it, and we would have done anything to make her happy. She deserved it, you see. She deserved more than what I had to offer her, but still she chose me anyway. And I am a selfish man, Harry, I crave glimpses of her and the whispers of her voice. She has made me a mad man whose only reprieve is her touch.”) 
You hum knowingly. “Stupid question, I guess. Since you aren’t allowed to reveal anything more about the future.” You sigh, gracefully threading your arms in the sleeves of your shirt, a green tie in the center of your collar. “Except, of course, when you gave me a heart attack in the middle of the night by telling me the last thing I want to become — no offense, I just don’t see how a relationship with those rowdy bunch would work. They get on my nerves far too much for me to ever feel anything other than disgust.” 
Harry doesn’t need a mirror to see that his expression has contorted in confusion; brows knitted and upper lip crinkled. By their memories of you, you all were madly in love in Hogwarts. Damn. This just made his trip to the past a lot harder. No maze seems to be ever just a maze. 
Luckily, you don’t notice him brewing a grand master plan to bring his parents together. Instead, you say, “But you don’t seem to be phased by any of this. If I had been thrown twenty years into the past, I would have puked my guts out twice at some point.” 
“Thanks for the image,” says Harry with a scowl. Truthfully, it had either been a present with a noseless Dark Lord to face, trauma to unpack but really never have the chance to, or a past where all of his parents were alive, and a chance to talk with them for however long he has. He knows where he’ll be staying, thank you very much. 
“Anytime,” You reply with an impish smile. 
Your heels pad across the floor as you walk over to him, mouth clicking as you pat the top of his head, full of wild, untameable Potter hair. “You need a trim soon,” You mutter, frowning, as you brush the thick strands away from his eyes, then you gasp — and Harry knows exactly what’s coming next. “Oh, you’ve got Evans’s eyes. That’s freaky.” 
“I know.” Harry grins. 
“Here’s the plan,” You say as you lead him out of your room, making sure no one saw him walking out of your door and getting the wrong impression — because that would be so wrong on many levels, but also, explaining to someone else that the person beside you was a time-traveller was just complicated in general. The Slytherin dungeon is unfamiliarly familiar, eerily quiet, as the two of you made your way out. “Just say you’re Potter’s distant relative, twice or thrice removed, and you’ve always been here. If you lie to their faces enough, they’ll believe it eventually.” 
“Will that work?” Harry doesn’t really mind — he needs a connection to James, his father, if he’s going to work out a connection between you and the others, because at the moment, it doesn’t seem like you’re too fond of them. There’s a tick on your jaw every time you mumble the word, Potter. Nevertheless, Harry decides he’s going to spend the duration of the holiday break trying to set you up with them — on the list of most insane things he’s ever done, living out the Parent Trap was high up the tally. 
You shrug. “They’ve fallen for less.” 
(“She’s got this adorable habit when she lies,” Sirius tells Harry, whipping up a stack of pancakes for their breakfast — Remus browsing through the morning paper. It’s the closest he’s ever been to a normal family. “It’s not obvious to her, of course, but I know her more than I know my own name. So we play along with it.” For a moment, he stops drizzling the maple syrup on the well-cooked batter, gazing at Remus fondly. “D’you remember that, Moony? She led us straight to one of her pranks, and we ended up covered in slug slime. She was so obvious — with her adorable fucking giggles. I need help with Charms, she said, and we knew right away it was a set-up. But it didn’t matter. I’d happily let her lead me to my ruin.”)  
The Great Hall is the same as Harry remembers. Now that most have returned home for the holidays, those who stay back mingle with students from other Houses, sharing meals under the bewitched ceiling, their low murmurs and hushed Christmas greetings bouncing off the walls. Harry scours the four tables to find a hint of blazing red hair, or the scent of impending trouble. Fortunately, he doesn’t have to search very far. As fate would have it, James Potter finds you — and where he is, Sirius Black is sure to follow. 
You’re barely seated when James comes bounding over to your table — more precisely, he struts, and Harry is horrified to ever be proven wrong by Snape, of all people. He ignores the roll of your eyes as he drags a leg over the bench, sitting to face you as Sirius occupies the space to your left before Harry can even sit down. He can’t even fathom how weird it is to see his parents as rambunctious teenagers. Lovesick, rambunctious teenagers. 
“Morning, dove.” James preens under your glare, stealing a grape from your bowl with a boyish smirk. His hair looks as though he’s ran his hand through it many times. “You look ravishing today.” 
“As always,” Sirius pipes in. “But that eyeshadow really isn’t complementing your skin tone, my darling.” 
You smile at him, right before your lips twist into a cutthroat sneer. “Piss off, Black.”
James stifles a laugh as he shovels a mass of potatoes on your plate, then pumpkin pasties, and slides a steaming cup of Dragon Well tea in front of you. 
“What the hell are you doing, Potter?” You reach over to smack his arm when he sprinkles apple slices and bacon on your breakfast. 
“What does it look like?” James smiles lopsidedly. “You need to eat more, honey.”
(In the future, Sirius will tell Harry, “It started off as a joke, a way to get on her nerves — but then, it just became this thing about taking care of her, making sure she got enough sleep before her tests, wondering if she had breakfast or dinner, staying with her in the library, walking her to the Slytherin common room, and sending her stupid notes just to make her laugh. You don’t get it, Harry. I’d give my every breath to ensure her life. We all would.” Harry doesn’t see Sirius any more during that evening, but he hears a bottle crashing against a wall, cracking into a million pieces, and the masked sound of Sirius sobbing, and Harry decides to leave him alone for the night.) 
Then, you tear your eyes away from James — he huffs, pushing your plate to you, mildly annoyed that you’ve deprived him of your eyes; they were his favorite part of you, you see, so expressive and full of life; James thinks you put the stars to shame — and thankfully, you remember that Harry still exists. You lightly smack Sirius’s leg until he gives Harry some room to sit. “Potter, meet other Potter. It’s the holidays, shouldn’t it be the perfect time to let go of House prejudices and spend time with family?” 
James looks at Harry up and down. “You must be from dad’s side of the family with all that hair.” 
Harry lets out a breath of relief. That was easy — way too easy. When he takes the vacant space in between you and Sirius, you dump all the available food on his plate, just as James had done for you. 
“Eat,” You say with a tone of finality. “You look like the wind could snap you in half.” 
“Yes, m—” Harry stops himself before he could finish his sentence, avoiding Sirius’s curious gaze. 
“Wow.” Sirius pokes Harry in the shoulder and in the cheek. “You really look like a mini-James, you’ve even got his terrible eyesight.” 
“Oi!” 
Your fork clatters against the silverware as you turn to Sirius with a shrill. “Not that I do enjoy your company — because, trust me, I do not want you here at all and would very much prefer if you got out of my sight — but why are you here? The Gryffindor table is over there. Unless your housemates finally got sick of you, Potter, which I can definitely see happening.” 
James chuckles, tossing another grape in his mouth without taking his eyes off you. “It’s as you said, isn’t it? It’s the time for putting aside House prejudices. And I think it’s a lovely day to enjoy a meal with my favorite snake.” 
“Drop dead,” You retort, digging into your chicken with a little more force than necessary. 
“Oh, dove.” James shakes his head, a teasing grin pulling at his lips. “It’s cute that you think death will keep me from you.” 
(Harry’s been told before, probably by Sirius, that this line had been wedged into his wedding vows for you. “A dramatic one, James was,” Sirius chuckles to himself one morning, Harry and Hermione listening intently, “He always said he’d rather die than ever hurt her. There was this time in seventh year, they had a fight — it was ugly — and she had ignored him for a week. James cried in Remus’s arms begging him to cut his heart out, saying that he didn’t deserve to keep on breathing, not after making you cry.”) 
“That is so creepy,” You say in disgust, scrunching your nose. Sirius chortles at your side. “I still wonder why Evans agreed to go out with you.” 
“It’s all part of the charm, dove.” James winks. “It’s all part of the charm.” 
Harry wants to barf, actually.
After breakfast, James then decides to introduce Harry to Lily, Remus, and Peter. (He’s gonna need the patience of a saint to not Avada Kedavra that rat on the spot.) Harry had spent the whole morning watching Sirius peel oranges and give them to you with a smitten look in his eyes — naturally, you gave whatever Sirius offered you to Harry, and each time Padfoot would visibly wilt. If he were in his Animagus form, Harry thinks he would be whining by now, tongue out and all. James and Sirius follow after you like lost puppies when you extricate yourself from the table.
“Where are you going?” James calls, hot on your heels as you leave the Great Hall.
“Away from you, Potter!” 
And James actually sighs when you turn the corner and disappear from their peripheral vision. Seconds later, he turns to Harry with a blinding smile, “She’s definitely charmed.”
Harry chortles.
“Well, come on then!” James guffaws as he wraps an arm around Harry’s neck — this is so, so strange. They begin walking in the opposite direction of where you went. “I still can’t believe we’ve got another Potter here and in Slytherin. I think I would have remembered Minnie calling your name during the Sorting Ceremony. What year are you in?” 
He’s supposed to start his sixth-year in a few weeks. “Fifth.” Technically. 
“We should ask Lily,” says Sirius, hands in his pockets and ebony ringlets tickling his nape. “She’s got the best memory out of all of us.”
It’s odd, Harry thinks, meeting the person who’s got his eyes — or the other way around, as people have told him. It’s like someone carved out the emeralds of Lily Evans’s eyes and bestowed it upon Harry for safekeeping. She sits beside Remus Lupin, head resting on his shoulder, hands clasped together, as they enjoy the shade. Nex to them, oblivious to their intimate conversation, is Peter Pettigrew — with his rosy, cherub cheeks and innocent blue eyes; not at all the image of a pathological, cowardly liar. Their heads snap in attention as James boisterously cries for their name. 
“Marauders — and Lily-pad — meet ickle Potter.” James lightheartedly whacks Harry on the back, to which Harry feels his lungs spill out from his mouth, he’s sure there’s an imprint of his father’s hand on his back now. 
“There’s two Potters in Hogwarts?” Sea-green eyes look at him in scrutiny as Lily knits her brows. “How even is the castle still standing?” 
James cackles like it’s the best joke he’s ever heard in his entire life, slapping his knee for dramatic effect. Oh, well, at least they’re buying Harry’s half-baked lie. At this point, it’s not even baked, it’s just wet, soggy, and poorly done. “Good one, Lily-pad!”
Sirius ruffles Remus’s shaggy blonde hair, canines bared in a wide grin. “This one here’s Moony, uptight prefect in the morning and absolute beast in the evening.” 
Harry blanches. Surely he was talking about his furry problem, right? Right? 
Remus doesn’t even flinch, just peels off Sirius’s hand from him and extends his hand out to Harry. “Please do not mind him. Remus Lupin, nice to meet you. Although, I can’t believe this is the first time we’ve met. We would have definitely remembered if we had another Potter in our midst.” 
“It’s true, we Potters are just hard to forget,” says James, smiling cheekily. 
Harry pokes the inside of his cheek with his tongue. “Mum didn’t take the Potter name. I’m part Dursley. Muggle.” 
Lily hums, toying at the ends of her bright hair. “Dursley, huh? What a familiar name.” 
“It’s a common one,” Harry assures her — not at all the names of the people who would take him in after they died. And make his life miserable. 
“I suppose you’re right,” says Lily, unconvinced. 
“And this is Peter.” James introduces the boy eagerly, pride in his voice — as though this isn’t the person who literally allies himself with Voldemort. As if Peter won’t betray his friends all because of fear. 
“N–Nice to meet you,” Peter stammers with a nervous fidget, “Any family of James is a friend of ours.” 
Harry’s eye twitches. 
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IT IS ALMOST COMICAL — the way their eyes land on your figure, bursting through the courtyard from the corridors, winter cloak swishing with every step, tendrils of hair swaying in the crisp wind, and head held up high, thick books under your arms. You pause in front of the Marauders, face blank, then you turn to Peter, greeting him with a: “Hello, only Gryffindor I can tolerate.” 
Peter’s cheeks burn a saccharine hue of pink. Oh, no, no, no — absolutely not — Harry will not stand for a little crush Peter Pettigrew has on his mother. He needs James to act now. “Hi,” Peter replies shyly. 
Lily quirks her lips. “Hello, princess, see your score for the Astronomy test yet?”
You scowl. “Zip it, Evans.” 
The sound of Lily’s laughter fills the atmosphere — it’s the sort of melody that makes flowers bloom in deserts. “Had a bit of difficulty with the star charts?” 
Sirius pinches your cheek — Harry thinks you’re going to murder him on the spot. “Difficulty? I think this one just slept through the whole thing.” 
James snickers. “Must have been one hell of a nap, princess. You were drooling on my jumper.” 
“I most certainly do not drool!” You gasp, appalled, eyes wide as you step away from Sirius.
Sirius rolls his eyes. “What? Is drooling too barbaric for the pretty, little pure-blooded princess now? Newsflash, pet, you’re just as human as we are.” 
“Oh, you horrible, loathsome, infuriating—” You whip around to beat his chest with the course book in your grasp — it’s the kind of book Hermione would consider for light reading. 
“Irresistibly attractive—?” Sirius supplies for you, grin widening with as he captures your wrist with his hands. 
“In your dreams!” You shrill. 
You exhale slowly, eyes closing, chest rising when you take a sharp inhale. You open your eyes and stare straight at Harry — for a moment he fears that you’ll bite his head off. “Harry, dear, will you accompany me to the library? I think I’ve found something important regarding your situation.” 
Harry nods. “Is it time already?” 
“Yes,” You say firmly. “And time is of the essence. Come on.” 
“Wait!” Lily calls out to you as you turn to head back to the castle, Harry in tow — he tries to avoid the way James is glaring at your linked arms. “Hogsmeade next week?” 
Your jaw falls to the ground — this must have been unrehearsed, if the others’ reactions were anything to go by; Remus had dropped his book in shock, Sirius looked like he couldn’t decide between applauding Lily’s bravery or shaking her, and James was somehow frozen in time. “Excuse me?” 
“You’re excused, princess,” says Lily, dimples poking out of her cheek as she takes another step towards you. “You, me, Hogsmeade. A date. I’m sure you’ve gone on one of those before.” 
Harry elbows your stomach as you stare at Lily in shock. It takes a few moments to break you out of your stupor. “A–And what makes you think I’ll just go with you?” 
Lily shrugs. “I’m fit. Aren’t I, Remus?” 
“The fittest,” says Remus without missing a beat. 
You laugh incredulously. “Do you just expect me to go along with this? You’re mad, Evans.” 
Harry glares at you. You need to go along with this. 
“Are you scared, princess?” Lily’s face is inches away from yours, noses almost touching — Harry doesn’t know if he should keep watching this painful way of flirting — as she grins at you, happiness barely contained within her eyes. 
To your credit, you don’t back down. (Harry has to say this for the masses: he saw your gaze flitter down to Lily’s lips for a split second.) “Stop calling me that, Evans.” 
“One date, then.” 
You growl in exasperation, eyes flickering to the boys behind her back — pretending not to hear their conversation. “I suppose I’ll have to deal with them as well?” 
Lily beams and Harry swears sunflowers could grow in her direction. “We’re a package deal.” 
“Unfortunately,” You utter — but Harry notices it, the lack of venom in your voice. You straighten your posture, nose lifted haughtily, “I choose where we’re going.” 
“Done.” The sun peeks out from the cloud just as Lily smiles at you. 
“And I want to—” 
“Done,” Remus interjects raspily, peering up at you from underneath his lashes. “Anything you want, it’s yours.” 
You fight a growing smile, but continue, “If we’re going out in public, you’re going to have to wear—” 
“Done,” says James giddily, he looks as though he could kiss you in front of everyone without a care in the world.  
“You can’t just agree to anything I say!” You flap your arms in frustration. 
“Yes, dear,” Sirius teases. 
“Do you know how much you piss me off, Black?” You squawk. “Because you are this close to—”
“You are so fucking beautiful,” Sirius confesses, every pretense shed raw from his skin, sincerity pouring from his words. 
“I—” You falter, heat rushing to your cheeks. “You’ve gone mad.” 
“It’s your fault, dove,” says James, eyes twinkling like crescent moons as he smiles. “You best take accountability for this.” 
“You’re incorrigible — all of you,” You say as you avoid their gazes.
(But they were yours. Past, present, and future. They loved you so much that their soul was no longer their own — it was yours; yours to keep, yours to break, and yours to love. It would be unjust to ask them why they loved you. Do we ask why the sun rises each day without rest? Do we ask a daisy to stop blooming, or a tree to stop growing after it has endured storms and floods? After all, we do not ask why humans follow the light in a tunnel shrouded in darkness.) 
“Come on, Harry, let’s go.” You reach for his hand, he notices immediately that the tips of your ears are pink, and your palms are warm with sweat. He barely sees Peter wave goodbye before you tug him in the direction of the castle entrance. 
“Wait up!” Remus catches up to you two in quick strides, offering to carry your books for you — not that you agree, stubborn Slytherin that you are. “I’ll walk you to the library.” 
“There’s no need for that, Lupin, thank you.” You dodge his eyes, lips tightly pressed together, nails slightly digging into Harry’s arm. 
“Remus,” He says with a twinkle. “Call me Remus.” 
“Alright.” You pause. “Remus.” 
(In that moment, Remus wonders if you remember decking Lucius Malfoy in the face to defend him in your fourth year. He didn’t think he deserved to even breathe in the same air as you — the pure-blooded princess, dressed in clothing worth more than his life, adorned in jewelry he could only dream to afford, raised to believe she was better than everyone else. Then, you beat up Evan Rosier the next month in the courtyard, eyes ablaze, extravagant silk marred with grass stains and mud, and knuckles split open. You spit blood on the ground, looking at Lily then back at Rosier. “Red,” You say, kicking him one last time in the stomach, unafraid of McGonagall’s wrath growing louder and louder. “Just like everyone else. Like those Muggleborns you fear. We’ve all got dirty blood, Rosier. Suck it up.” 
“I’ll tell your father about this!” Rosier bellows through bloody teeth. 
“Tell him!” You grab his neck and slam your forehead against his. “Tell him that I decide my own future now!”
Remus doesn’t even have to think about it. 
He falls in love.) 
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FUNNILY ENOUGH, IT’S LILY who gives you her heart first, before anyone else does. It’s the last month of her first year at Hogwarts — it still hasn’t quite sunk in yet that she was a witch. Her, not Petunia, but her — Lily Evans, the witch. Apparently, some people can’t believe it either. A girl from Ravenclaw calls her this foul word, she’s heard it a few times now but it always hurts the same. James and Sirius get into a fight for her honor, now faced with detention later this evening. But she can’t help but wonder, what if they were right? What if she really didn’t belong in this world? It was too good to be true, anyway. Perhaps she’ll just run a flower boutique with Petunia.
“Oi.” 
The sound of your voice startles her, and she nearly topples over in the Great Lake. Lily catches sight of your Slytherin colors and resigns herself to another round of name-calling. “What do you want?” 
“They’re wrong, you know,” You tell her, ignoring Lily’s question. You look down on her with your nose raised arrogantly — she wishes she could be like you. Born to be magic. “You’ve got a terrifying brain locked up in your head there, Evans. And they know it, too. They’re scared.” 
Lily scoffs. “I’m just a Mudblood to them. There’s nothing to be intimidated by.” 
You sneer. “Don’t say that word. You’re more than that. More than them. They’ve got long ways to go to prove they have a place in this world. But you — you’ve defied the odds and you were destined to become magic. You don’t have to prove anything. You have the right to be in the wizarding world and no one can take that away from you.” 
Then, you pivot on your heels, not bothering to hear her reply. “You’re my rival now, Evans. Do keep up. We’ve got an Astronomy test tomorrow. I look forward to seeing how you do then.” 
Lily just gapes. She’s certain there’s butterflies in her stomach. Her heart thumps wildly against her ribcage. Lily raises her hands to feel her blushing cheeks. There’s a light unfamiliar sensation in her stomach — like the urge to kick her legs and scream into a pillow, or more precisely, chase after you and hold your hand.
She stiffens.
Oh.
part two
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