#[ it's a difficult urge to resist xD ]

[despairforme]

[dandelion-wings]

for the ask meme - 💘 jean/eula? thank you!

Sorry you had to wait so long for this! I unfortunately have to be in a kissing mood to write kissing, and, well, I was not when this message finally showed up. XD;; But hopefully you will enjoy it anyway!

---

There are other Knights, Eula will admit, who could handle this situation better than she. Captain Kaeya could easily have diverted the opponent with friendly questions; their Librarian could easily have devised some smiling defense. But neither of them are here, and so it falls to Eula to rescue Jean from her besieged position.

Fortunately, Eula excels at moving across difficult terrain without disturbing the enemy. The nobility of Fontaine try to step in her way, oozing pleasantries, but she side-steps and dodges around them with her gaze cast slightly away as if she hadn't seen them, making it impossible for them to claim offense. Her attention is fully fixed on the anxious, desperate looks Jean keeps throwing her from across the room.

"Jean," she says when she draws close, reaching out to take her arm in silent support. "I require your company."

"I don't believe we've met," says the red-eyed woman who has backed Jean against the wall, looking Eula up and down.

Eula raises her chin high and meets the Knave's burning gaze, refusing to be intimidated. "I am Eula Lawrence, Captain of the Fourth Company of the Knights of Favonius, and thus your equal in rank in our respective organizations."

She can feel Jean's arm going tense beneath her hand, and squeezes it in reassurance. Fatui scum or not, the Knave won't descend to open violence in the center of this opulent hall, with all the nobility of Fontaine watching. Not that Eula trusts most of them--too many collude with her own family to do so--but the Iudex himself stands in a far corner, gazing at the crowd, and Lady Caspar is making her way gradually towards them. Neither would permit an open duel.

Wisdom says that Eula should be glad of that guard. The fury she'd felt at seeing the Knave standing so close to her Acting Grand Master, though, makes her wish it absent.

"It sounds as if you know who I am," the Knave says. Her eyes for a moment seem to flicker, growing at once darker and hotter, and Eula feels as vertiginous as if she was teetering on the edge of a yawning pit. Then her gaze flicks over to Lady Caspar, and she bows, smoothly, taking a step back as she does so. "Since introductions are over, I'll leave you and your paramour to it."

"Paramour?" Lady Caspar asks, reaching out as she reaches them to put her hand on the Knave's in almost exact echo of Eula's gesture. She looks at Eula and Jean and smiles. "No one knew the two of you were a couple. I'll speak to Gestionnaires Margette about having your rooming situation rearranged appropriately."

"That's not-" Eula begins to say, her heart pounding in her ears and a pit opening up in the bottom of her stomach. She can't look at Jean. If Jean, whom she does value as a friend, of whom she might have had... hopes, if secret ones, never to be spoken, should look dismayed or disgusted....

"That's very kind of you," Jean interrupts her. "We hadn't wished to make a fuss."

"It's no trouble at all! I know Margette has the appropriate housing." Lady Caspar smiles brightly, giving them a little finger-wave. Her grip on the Knave's arm is quite firm; Eula can see the muscle flexing under the lace of her sleeve.

Jean pulls her arm away only to tuck it into Eula's, then turns them both. Eula follows her lead towards the buffet, away from the Knave, though the hair on the back of her neck rises, and she has to resist the urge to look back as they leave. She can feel the Knave's eyes burning into her back.

"Why did you not correct the Lady Caspar?" she demands as soon as they're far enough away not to be overheard, pulling her arm away from Jean and turning to scowl at her. "Do you find that much advantage in letting these foppish idiots think you bound to a Lawrence?"

Which is entirely possible, given the unctuous way they've been behaving towards Eula all night, and *that's* a worse thought than Jean merely being disgusted. The pit in her stomach seems to open wider.

"No. I would never trade upon your name in such a way," Jean says, looking at Eula with earnest worry. "But since Lady Caspar offered to rearrange our rooms, I thought it would be best to accept. That way neither of us will spend the night in a room alone. Do you recall that message delivered to me on our way through Romaritime Port this morning?"

"I recall."

"That was from an associate- that is, someone acquainted with Master Diluc who lives in the area, whom he asked to look out for us. It said that there was serious risk of someone moving against... well, you. It seems they believe that removing you would curry favor with your family. I meant to warn you before this, but with all the ceremonies, I haven't had the chance."

Which explains the desperate looks Jean was throwing her. She hadn't been trapped after all--nor in need of Eula's rescue. Rather, her intentions had been the other way around.

Embarrassment pricks her, and she tosses her head, reflexively haughty in reaction. "Do you doubt my ability to handle any such assassins on my own? I'll make you pay for such condescension."

"I don't doubt your ability at all. But I would rather be there at your side, if you would permit me."

Protecting her Knights is her responsibility as Acting Grand Master, and Eula knows how seriously Jean takes that. The softness in her eyes may be merely worry. Eula suspects, though, that it's more. She wouldn't have harbored those secret hopes of hers if Jean didn't look at her in this way so often, and never in such fashion at anyone else. Crystalflies flutter in her stomach, but she chokes back the weak-kneed wistfulness that she always feels at that look.

"If you insist," she says, chin high, refusing to be anything but aristocratic.

The smile that spreads over Jean's face just makes the crystalflies' wings beat harder. "Thank you for granting me this favor."

"If this is the story we're going with, you might as well use it to best advantage," Eula says, holding her arm out to Jean. "Let's go play tiresome aristocratic games with those who will be more impressed our names than by our titles."

"I'll follow your lead," Jean says, taking her arm with a smile.

***

The evening is torture, and not because of the song and dance that Eula finds so foolish and these people take so seriously. *That's* not anything worse than she endures any time she speaks to her family. Having Jean on her arm, though, standing so close, smiling and graciously letting Eula introduce her.... The weak-kneed wistfulness has turned to a physical ache by the time the party winds to a close.

"Tomorrow we'll be able to speak to the Iudex himself in a private appointment," Jean says as they leave the ballroom and start down the halls to their room. "That will be far more productive. Or rather, feel far more productive. Fontaine's ruling class does buy so much wine, this may have been the more important part of our visit."

"I've heard he's admirably straightforward."

Jean's shoulders loosen the further they get from the party, and now she smiles at Eula. "So have I. He requested that I send an agenda ahead of time, and sent it back with only one addition, so I hope- ah! Excuse us," she says quickly as they round a corner.

The hallway leads through flung-open doors to a balcony ahead, and the Knave straightens from where she was leaning upon its railing at Jean's exclamation and turns to study them both. "Hmmm. They must have put you in the Lumidouce Wing."

Both Eula and Jean are tense now, though Eula thinks they're doing an equally good job of hiding it. The Knave looks casual, but a Fatui Harbinger can afford to be so even when issuing a threat. Eula had all but challenged her earlier, after all. Her pulse quickens.

"That's what we were told," Jean says, still polite even as Eula feels her shift her weight in readiness to call upon her Vision.

"If you go back around the corner and up the stairs, it's quicker, but there's a better view if you walk along the gallery," the Knave says, gesturing towards her left, where the balcony does indeed seem to extend. "I've heard it's very popular for romantic midnight trysts."

"You're quite familiar with the layout of the Palais for someone who doesn't live here," Eula says, astonished at the brazen challenge in her own voice as she says it. Having Jean here beside her makes her want to draw herself taller, to throw down that gauntlet and prove just how close she may, in fact, be to matching a Harbinger. With Jean by her side, they might even be able to take her.

The Knave meets her gaze with an expression of *infuriating* boredom, as if Eula's challenge is nothing before her. "I once considered paying a nighttime visit to someone who lived here. I turned out to meet her elsewhere, but my children enjoyed exploring it for me, so I ended up with quite a complete map."

As she speaks, she steps forward, walking briskly past them without even a twitch of aggression. This time Eula can't keep herself from turning about, letting go of Jean to better eye the woman's unguarded back. She rounds the corner without a backward glance, and yet Eula feels certain that she's completely aware of them even past the moment she vanishes from sight.

Wind swirls around them as Jean sighs in relief, stirring the flowers in a nearby vase. Slowly, Eula relaxes. Only now does she feel the chill that pervades the hallway.

"Well," she says, holding her arm out to Jean again. "Let us see this gallery."

They step outside into much warmer air. A faint breeze blows through the night, carrying snatches of song from some street performer, or perhaps another party. Lights glitter all through the city, a bright pneumosia-powered sparkling that outlines the elegant forms of buildings and walls. Eula pauses to look.

"It is an impressive sight," she says grudgingly.

"It is," Jean agrees.

Something in her tone makes Eula turn her head. Jean isn't looking at the city; her gaze is turned up towards Eula. She's smiling, soft and wistful, that same softness that Eula had seen in her worry earlier, but even more devastating wound up in this smile. Eula's knees threaten to go weak all over again.

"She did say that this was a place for romantic trysts," Jean breathes, a hushed whisper that doesn't hide the yearning in it. "If you wish this to be only a pretense, there is no one watching who will know we did not act as lovers. But... if you wished...."

The crystalflies loop and twist in Eula's stomach. She takes a deep breath, to steady them. Then she meets Jean's soft gaze with all the seriousness it deserves and answers, only, "I do wish."

She leans in. Jean's mouth is soft as her eyes, at first, giving easily to the assault Eula mounts, yielding as if Eula is a welcomed guest and not a hated Lawrence aggressor. Or as if she fears that Eula will bolt, given any kind of resistance. Eula makes an impatient sound into her mouth, and Jean pushes back just as hard, losing her hesitance, meeting Eula on equal ground and matching her in equal measure.

Anemo swirls around and through them, both of them breathing deep even as Eula's pulse begins to race again, pounding for far sweeter reasons than mere battle. She can feel Jean's in her wrists as she grasps them both, pulling her closer, leaning against the balcony rail as she draws her in tight. The glitter of the city behind and the Palais rising above is nothing to the feeling of Jean pressed up against her, the soft, hungry sounds she's making, the rush of satisfaction Eula feels as her secret hopes are, impossibly, met.

A quiet thump in the hallway, around the corner, makes them break apart, both glancing that way at once. There's nothing there, though, but dimness, the lights that had glowed along the walls as they passed gone silently dark. Eula lets go of Jean's wrists.

Before either of them can ready for an attack, though, the lights flicker and come back on. Jean laughs and smiles sheepishly at Eula. "I have heard that pneumosia is not a perfect system. There must have been a temporary fault."

"That woman put us both on edge." Eula pushes away from the railing and tosses her head, reaching out at the same time for Jean's hand. "Let's find this room we've been put in. The view may be impressive, but I'd prefer a door between us and her if we're going to be distracted."

"Oh," Jean says, as if *distraction* hadn't occurred to her. Then she takes Eula's hand and nods. "That would be for the best."

Fingers wound together, they make for the privacy of their room. Whatever may threaten--those supposed assassins, the Knave herself--Eula will make them pay for any interruption they offer. Jean may not have needed her rescue earlier, but Eula refuses to be a damsel in distress either. They'll face their foes here hand-in-hand.

[tarnishedxknight]

What the fuck is that?

Jet's heart was pounding as they ducked around a tree and peered out at the creature. Their skin prickling as they resisted the urge to click their teeth together nervously. Could they even fight that thing? Should they just run? What if--

Wait, was what...?

"Ashelia!" They dug their feet in to keep from lunging out to grab for their friend - their heart leaping into their throat as the creature seemed to see her as well.

No!

Without another hesitation, Jet bolted out from around the tree and shifted - letting out a guttural roar as they skidded to a hault in between the creature and Ashelia. A furious hiss rising from their throat as they snapped their teeth together and flexed their front claws. They had no idea what they were up against, but they were not going to let Ashelia get hurt.

((inspo struck on my way home, so maybe an esper or some other monster ended up getting trapped and broke free like what happened with Ashe?? and idk if you wanted to say Basch is also alive or not lol, because he and the creature could've gotten trapped together, but I just thought this could be fun sdgjhsdfhj))

{ Oooooh, I like this idea! I kindof go back and forth between it being some nethicite nonsense from Dr. Cid that caused them all to be trapped or the magical nonsense of an Esper, so I could easily go with the Esper doing something dumb that trapped them and itself, haha.

In keeping with that theme, I'm going to use Famfrit, the Esper that is actually summoned by Dr. Cid at the summit of the Pharos, which is usually where I say the trapping occurred. Basically he's a thicc, nasty, armored, levitating dude with a circular blade and a huge ewer on a chain that pours out tidal waves. He can also make windstorms and dark clouds that produce black rain. He's a wind and sea Esper. You can read about him here if you want, or see him in action here. He's imposing looking, but not super difficult, honestly.

And yeah, I think I will go with Basch getting trapped with Famfrit. He won't be able to help much anyway because I usually have Basch be rather disoriented and in so-so health (some cracked ribs and dehydration) when he's revived. Plus he's still recovering from two years in a dungeon when he's frozen, so there's also that. But it'll make Ashe more aggressive if she wants to protect him and Jet, so that works. XD }

More and more, Ashelia was really coming to value her friendship with Jet. They were helpful, attentive, kind, and genuinely endearing. They even offered to accompany her when Ashe had the opportunity to return to the site where she was found to see if she could find anything - or anyone - else that might be there. The others had been busy with their own missions and meetings, and so she was glad to have at least one other person there with whom she was familiar. What she never expected to find was the very Esper who likely had a hand in the magical mishap that preserved her in the first place.

The land looked so different from when she was last here. Or rather, when she was last awake here. The misty cliffs and turbulent seas of the Ridorana Cataract from which the Pharos rose up like an affront to the gods themselves, once only accessible via airship, was now... forests and rock mountains. The ocean... reduced to a river. All worn down, muted, and changed. Unrecognizable. It made Ashelia feel sad and uncomfortable, but as they walked along the bank of the river, watching their footing on the rocks, the ground suddenly began to quake. Grabbing onto a nearby tree, Ashelia looked around, eyes wide. "What is causing this?!" she asked Jet, as if they would have any clue.

Soon, the source of the rumbling made itself known. One of the rocky hills seemed to explode from the inside, with bits of stone being thrown everywhere. What emerged out of the crater made Ashe's blood run cold. "Oh gods... Famfrit!" she exclaimed. One of her last memories of Ivalice was seeing the giant Esper Dr. Cid had summoned to crush them all... even his own son. Of all those who might have been found alive in this landscape, she was sorry it had been this beast.

Blurting out their name made Famfrit turn towards Ashe. A few stomps and they were up in the air, hovering like some evil angel as they glided effortlessly over to her. Despite the millennia that had existed between their entrapment and now, the Esper still seemed to be following the last given order... to kill Ashelia and her companions. Seeing Jet dash in front of her, Ashe was even more horrified. "No, Jet, get back! You do not understand! This is an Esper! A powerful magical being! You could be killed!" she warned them.

Famfrit, for all their aggression, was quickly perturbed by the fact that the thick chain that had once tethered their ewer to their side was... broken. Lifting it and peering at it, the dangling end containing no sign of the ewer, the creature turned back to where they had been encased in rock, calling upon the forces of nature to produce a scathing wind. The wind chiseled away at the rock until the creature found what they sought. Seeing the ewer protruding from the stone, Famfrit reached down for it, pulling and pulling until it broke free. Once it did, the supernatural chain mended itself, the ewer now once again levitating at their side.

As the Esper turned their attention back toward Ashe and Jet, something else moved in the rock, also set free by the magical wind. Smaller rocks were pushed aside to reveal a very shaky and dusty man attempting to pull himself out of the rubble. "Princess!" Basch rasped, seeing Famfrit but not her from where he was.

Ashe was stunned when she heard that voice she knew so well. "Basch?!" she called back, drawing her sword, the one she'd still had on her when she was found. It was the one thing she had not parted with from her old world, and she'd thought it fitting to bring it with her to search for more survivors. Little did she know she'd need it.

Famfrit ignored Basch and instead moved closer to Ashe and Jet, taking a slow but powerful swipe at the latter with their large armored arm to test how this small little fly would dare to challenge them. Basch picked up a few nearby rocks and threw them at Famfrit, still trying to free his legs and his sword while coughing with sharp pains in his chest. The rocks plinked off the Esper's armor, not seeming to bother them. So Basch did it again. This time, Famfrit whirled around in annoyance and began floating back towards Basch.

"No! Get back here, you fiend!" Ashe yelled, seeing that Basch was in no position to fight. She ran a few steps closer before stopping to think about what she could do here. Bringing her hands together, Ashelia began muttering the ancient arcane words to a spell called Heaven's Wrath. Her feet left the ground and she too levitated a little and began to glow. Before long, Famfrit was hit with a barrage of bright energy bolts until they were all but engulfed in light. When the light faded, Ashelia's feet floated back down to the ground and she stood gasping, looking for a sign that the spell had done something. The good news was that it had, for Famfrit's armor now had many chinks and cracks in it. The bad news was that they were now very pissed off.

As the creature turned back towards Ashe and Jet, Basch freed himself. Stumbling and coughing, he raised his own sword, but was clearly shaky on his legs. "Jet, please be careful!" Ashe called to them, seeing how they wished to protect her. She didn't know how the two of them were going to defeat something this large and powerful by themselves...

Famfrit's ewer began to fill with water, and Basch's eyes widened. "Run!" he called, but just that one word sent him into a fit of coughing.

"We must find cover!" Ashe said to Jet. "This creature holds the power of the sea and could drown us all!" She motioned for Jet to climb rocks with her up toward higher ground, hoping that Basch would be alright where he was down by the river...

[brotherhoodoftheblade]

YESSS! There's literally nothing about OL anymore that's more interesting to me than thinking about things from Percy's POV. lol (Note to self: please get back to the Percy fic writing business! 🙏)

He must've been unbelievably nervous to finally see John again, especially considering he knew all too well how obstinate he could be. It just made Percy's unflappable manner all the most impressive - and dare I say, sexy af. 🔥 Meanwhile it was John who was rattled throughout - breaking his wine glass and then pretending he didn't, losing his shit at Percy's mere mention of Isobel and William and threatening to shoot him in head (wtf John?! man's clearly spent way too much time in Jamie's company and the American wilderness if he leaps to such caveman manners so easily :P), and finally just storming the eff out of his own room. 🤣

(I wonder how long Percy continued to sit there drinking wine, waiting to see if John would come back and order him out - but of course, like the little coward John turns into around Percy, he didn't go back. xd)

Although Percy could've seen John much earlier if he'd really wanted to (and I find it very intriguing that he chose not to), all signs indicate that he's always known where John was and what was going on with his life. It's pretty funny the way Percy often seems to know exactly where John's staying no matter which city he's in; he's like the most benign stalker ever. LOL

John also mentioned having been close on "Beauchamp's" trail a few times back during his Black Chamber days but having always been eluded in the end. Fascinating to think of the years where Percy was unknowingly his "opposite number", where they may even have been after the same objective for England and France and therefore running around in the same cities trying to carry them out. The fact that Percy always managed to give John the slip is just another instance of him proving to be the sharper spy. lol Though, of course, Percy had a slight advantage once he discovered "Buttercup's" true identity because he knows John so well.

Also, even when Percy uncovered "Buttercup's" true identity back then I bet he kept the knowledge from the other members of the Secret du Roi -- he wouldn't have wanted to risk putting John in further danger.

Again, I love the way Percy's quietly abiding love and concern for John shines through even as he balances it with looking after himself. And also the self-control he demonstrated in resisting the urge to see John so he could carry out his mission, because it must've been so difficult for him to be so close to John and yet choose not to see him. The yearning must've been terrible, yet he showed himself to be made of much sterner stuff in the face of terrible yearning than John ever did.

Percy is just as strong-minded as John in his own understated way. His heart and his emotional resilience have always been his greatest strength. ~

(Self-possession is a quality I deeply admire in a person, as well as find extremely attractive, so I love to see it. <3 Someone who turns into a goddamn doormat in the face of love/lust - like John with Jamie - begins to grow increasingly contemptuous to me over time. (Like, Christ, self-respect, man!! LOCATE IT!)

So I absolutely adore the all character growth Percy went through in his years off-the-page (GOD I'm dying to write all that! lol). I mean, he was relatable AF to me already in BotB (far more than any of the other male characters), but his characterization in Books 7&8 just deepened by love for him as a character even more. Which is why his appalling treatment in Bees just turned me f*cking feral. 💀)

(I'm also firmly convinced that had that clusterfuck with Weber not happened Percy would've broken up with John eventually, because he's a great romantic, yes, but it's also tempered with practicality. Love wouldn't have turned him to a complete f*cking self-sacrificing dumbass like it did with John. 🙄

Percy would've made himself look the futility of his relationship with John in the eye, no matter how much it pained him, and reached a point when he'd have decided enough was enough because he was never going to get the kind of love he needed from John while he was holding his heart in reserve for another man. He'd have let John down easy and wished him well, and continued living his life despite his heartache. Because THAT is the kind of strength and courage Percy's always possessed, that John seems to lack.)

I feel like there’s a lot of talk about how unexpected it was for John to see Percy again in Echo, but we don’t talk enough about how it must have been for Percy to actually know that he was about to see John again for the first time in nearly 20 years.

I mean, Percy probably never thought he would get the chance of seeing John again until the opportunity came up. Sure, he knew John was Buttercup (lol sorry this alias is so unserious), but interacting with him in person is a very different thing.

Can you imagine all the anticipation? How he must have played out the scenario in his head over and over again? What would be the first thing he would say to John? How much John would’ve changed in all those years? And most importantly… how would John react upon seeing him again?

He must have been extremely nervous and somehow still managed to keep a very self-assured manner (undoubtedly the result of the improvement he had in his own self confidence during those 20 years), because he knew John wouldn’t be pleased and wouldn’t treat him in a good-hearted way.

[italeean]

Yay the event is finally open! I'm thinking a platonic genshin fic with baizhu as the ler and childe as the lee, seems like a cool dynamic, especially since childe seems to be the type that go to pharmacy a lot due to constant battle, with "Was that a giggle?" XD

A/N: Aaaww hi anon!! Lieta di vedere tanto entusiasmo (Glad to see so much enthusiasm) 💚🤍❤️ I really liked writing for this pairing as well, very original!! And I agree, it's a really cool dynamic, you have great taste! I hope you enjoy my work, let me know if you do. Have a good day ^_^

Drabble Event Day 4

"Was that a giggle?" Baizhu asked perplexed when Childe jumped on his seat and made a strange sound.

The Harbinger hated getting injured. Those Treasure Hoarders were supposed to be a piece of cake to deal with, but they were more than he had thought, and although he quickly defeated them all, one of them had managed to hit his back, making him feel sore for a couple of days. After feeling no improvement on his condition, he reluctantly went to the pharmacy to get a checkup. At least he had managed to arrive there early and get in first.

He was lying down on the bed in the back of Bubu Pharmacy, where Baizhu visited his patients when they needed it, while the man was tasting his back, trying to understand if there was something wrong.

"Ummmm... I don't think there's something broken or seriously damaged in any way," He observed seriously "but that noise you've just made when I touched you here..." He lightly dug his finger into Childe's lower back, eliciting the same reaction as the previous time "you made that sound again. Did that hurt?"

The redhead scoffed, shifting uncomfortably on the small bed "No, I said no. Just... go on with your examination or whatever..!"

The green-haired man was already suspecting what might have caused that little giggle (although Childe still denies that it was a giggle), but his defensive reaction cleared every doubt. Childe couldn't see his sly smirk, and if he had, he would've probably gotten up and run away; but unfortunately he was lying on his stomach, so he didn't see anything.

"You're quite tense though... I think a massage might be the ideal solution for you." He said, starting to knead into Tartaglia's muscles before he even had the chance to react. He fought so hard to resist the urge to laugh, but not being able to see where the pharmacist was going to strike made everything more difficult.

Unfortunately, or fortunately... it depends on the perspective, Baizhu dug into Childe's lowest ribs, which made the dam break instantly. "THIHIHIHIS IHIHIS NOHOHOT AHAHA MAHAHASSAHAGEHEHE!! STOHOHOP IHIHIT IHIHIMMEDIAHATEHELY!!" The redhead tried to bark orders despite his vulnerable position.

"I see... the young Harbinger is ticklish... I wonder if your subordinates know about this little weakness of yours," he said while scribbling on the same spot "look at you squirm... your back must be feeling better if you're moving so much." He teased, noticing how the tips of Tartaglia's ears were turning red.

"SHUHUHUHUT UHUHUP WIHIHILL YAHAHAHA?!" The poor guy demanded harshly once more, only earning an evil chuckle from the pharmacist. "You know, I was gonna be merciful with you, but I think you need to be taught some manners." He stated while digging more roughly in the left set of ribs and scribbling on the right one, making the young man go ballistic and squirm like a crazy.

"And I'm gonna show you what happens when you hide such an important intel from me." He concluded with another chuckle. It would've made the redhead shiver, if he hadn't been too busy laughing and screaming. "WAHAHAHAHAIT NAHAHAHAHA IHIHIHI'M SAHAHAHARRYEHEHEHE PLEHEHAHAHAHASEHEHEEE"

That day Baizhu didn't receive any other patients.

[crystalcow]

Hi I'm Narcise I just found your blog recently and I wanted to say I love your writting. Especially your dream child one. Do you think you could do a scenario where reader is dreams child just like in the other parts and he finds out or she tells her everything she went through since she was left alone? Like with bad and tubbo or why she doesn't want to be brought back to life and stuff. I wonder how he would react.

Cuz I am a sucker for angst.

𝐺ℎ𝑜𝑠𝑡 𝑉𝑖𝑙𝑙𝑎𝑔𝑒//𝐷𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑚𝑠 𝐶ℎ𝑖𝑙𝑑

Masterlist // child reader // dreams child

Dream x reader !p !child reader

Pronouns used: they/them

Warnings: death, swearing, angst, trauma?

─═ڿڰۣڿ☻ڿڰۣڿ═─fuck ─═ڿڰۣڿ☻ڿڰۣڿ═─

“Sweetie why can’t you just explain to me why I can’t bring you back to life!” Dream desperately agitated the ghost whom was floating around the cold obsidian cell.

The ghost pulled out at their hair, tugging on it in frustration as wilted petals floated around. They slowly became more and more frustrated with the man.

“Because I don’t want to! How difficult is that..” They scoffed plopping down, Dream rolled his eyes swerving at the ghost flowers making them disappear into air. “I’ll make sure that you’ll be protected, I just want to hug you again.”

They shook their head once again, the blonde main sighing before leaning back into the wall, dragging his fingers across his face. “I have their diary..” G/n looked up to meet his green eyes which instantly brightened.

“Y/ns? From when they-you were alive!” It was an instant as they just summoned it into their hands, ‘sneaky bastard’ Dream thought. The possibility of the small ghost being able to smuggle a sword or potions..

He shook his head, tracing the fine leather binding. Looking over at the words etched into the cover, his beautiful child’s handwriting. He was holding a piece of their soul, or what was left of it.

‘Property of Y/n XD’

If found please return :):

“I’m sorry it’s not much, I don’t remeber a lot. All I know is that Alive/n wasn’t a happy person! They’re-I’m better of this way, trust me.” Dream had resisted the urge to yell at the ghostly figure, anything would be worth it to have his kid back. 

“You know I could fix that little problem..” “Its not my decision, if my soul doesn’t want to it doesn’t have to be revived.” He shrugged, wry as he rolled his eyes at the ghost.

The pages crippled as the pages were opened after the long await, words pulling out as the brain of the lost love was plastered out on these pages. “Im debating taking that book from you, I don’t think alive/n would like you reading this.”

Dream snickered his face sardonic, “Why would they not want me to read this huh?” Eyes traveling to the nervous ghost who was chewing out at the air. “There’s some things..” “Like romantic lovers?” He couldnt imagine his little pumpkin in a relationship.

“No more like death, and dragged on volumes and volumes of how they hate everyone who betrayed them and you.” The ghost giggled at the small memory plopping back into their head, memory’s!

His face dawned looking starting to read the different scrambles.

-',((❀));

‘December 15th ☀︎︎

I hate how everyone looks at me, like I’m some sort of villain. ☹︎ At least theres Tubbo! Were being friendly ish again, but he’s always busy.. 𖦹 Last time I visited Tommy he looked more upset then usual. ☆ I’ll try to make him smile, at least one more time. 𖨆☁︎︎

-',((❀));

December 25th ㋛

The Christmas trees lit up, it’s colorful to say the least. I left gifts for uncle sapnap and George, no reply yet.. ⁂ still hoping!

Oh oh I showed papa the new jacket Philza got me! ❄︎ I don’t think he likes it very much, but it’s a nice gesture. I didn’t see many people out, ☘︎︎♪probably celebrating with their family.. why is he never fucking home then? ☃︎ꕥ

-',((❀));

He continued to flip through the pages careful not to tear the delicate paper. It was all the same, little doodles around the words and the date marked perfectly at the top of the page. Each section and entry filled with emotions Dream had yet to understand.

He stopped reading once he read the date, taking a holt to notice the visible changes. It all felt wrong, watching closely as the ghost version of Y/n plopped down next to the lava.

January 21st

The day that he entered this ratchet prison, after months of cowering in the small obsidian box. How he had spent weeks planning out how to get rid of two literal children, over what? A disc!

“I’d recommend you stop reading, I tried but I couldn’t go any farther then that.” G/n suggested fidgeting with the hem of their clothing. “How bad could it be? Me being in this hell hole did better for everyone else! Maybe it was for them too.”

So he did, examined every little word on the page the voice in his head reading it like theirs. Hoping, praying that the words that fill these pages would be different then what he knows.. That they found a happy home and re connected with old family, had fun with the last of life.

-',((❀));

He’s gone. After everything we’ve been through he just left. I don’t think he even have a damn to how I’d react, or how all this bullshit would affect me. I’ve played happy for months, and is this what I get in return?

How come everyone else gets to roam free, I mean if Wilbur or schlatt ever dares to come back into this damn reality, I’m gonna make sure they get the same resent from their fellow “peers”

-',((❀));

January 30th

5 days. It’s been five days and no one bothers to even bat me an eye! They just look away or shiver as I pass by, might as well just stab em. I mean give them a reason to be upset right! I think Tommy’s the one stealing random things from my little hobbit hole.. fucking brit

-',((❀));

February 3rd

They burnt down the house. They really took all my shit and burnt it and lit a piece of tnt! I have nowhere to go. There’s the community house.. Oh wait my dad blew it up!

Thanks a lot papa, left me damn homeless. Scraping around the area tho, bad and Skeppy seem to never be home ill go there. ✈︎⚠︎︎

-',((❀));

Febuary 9th

Did anyone ever actually had an eye as to how little food everyone has? I mean I probably stolen half a stack, but that’s all I could find. It gets cold and boring, might have to look around some more.

Sam locked me up for a night because I accidentally broke one of Michaels toy pony’s.. long story short I’m no longer welcome in snow Chester!

-',((❀));

Feburary 28th

It’s been more then a month, this Server sucks. No word from sap or George! I’ve been hiding out in the Antarctic, hopefully techno doesn’t kill me

-',((❀));

March 4th

An egg. Red, lots and lots of those sick vines. I was just sleeping before I felt no air! And bad he’s different. I just wanna be home

-',((❀));

Sentences for shorter and shorter, most of them repeating the same thing. Months after months of scouring around for food, and random sketches and doodles in the margins.

“I’d this really what they went through?” The blonde looked up teary eyed from the book, seeing out the confused ghost. “What are you talking about? Oh where’d you get that!” They giggled snatching it out of his hands, bright petals floating around.

Before he knew it the lava started rising, Sam prominently standing there on the other side. “Sorry Dream times up, Cmon ghosty it’s time to go.” They poured before reluctantly floating across with the platform, waving goodbye with a smile.

“See you tomorrow papa!” But once the orange liquid cascaded down, blocking all sight did vision he broke down. Cowering his face into his knees, pulling out at the orange jump suit as everything became hotter in the room.

“Fuck!” He shouted slamming his fists against the wall, practically tearing the hairs out of his scalp. “I don’t fucking blame you..” He whispered voice musty and almost inaudible, quiet sobs filling the room taking its place.

A ghosts village is really his place.

─═ڿڰۣڿ☻ڿڰۣڿ═─ fuck ─═ڿڰۣڿ☻ڿڰۣڿ═─

@creatorofstars @georgenctfound @samistheidiot @smolbox-png @ghostlysenses @stellarinstigator @bobaducky @the-swageyama-tobiyolo

I’m litterly not proud of my work recently, like personally I don’t think this is angsty enough. But hey it’s been a bit hasn’t it?

As always ask and request anything!

[trashasaurusrex]

Sick of the Silence (an FFXIV Lin one shot story)

I wrote this in one day and it made me appreciate writers of all kinds much much more. I am bad with words xD

Was brainstorming some backstory stuff for FF!Lin, and ended up writing all of this. It involves Lindsey dealing with her powers, getting more Questions, and has a bit of fluff at the end. This takes place during the events of Stormblood. Enjoy!

(Story under the break)

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

Silent, cold, and dark was the night, and its sky covered all of Gyr Abania. The stars glittered along the dark sheet, telling stories of old heroes and legends with each formation they presented. In the center of it all, Menphina’s half-moon shined brightly, clouds draping over it gently like sheer fabric. Underneath this display lies a Hyur woman gazing up above to the deity’s symbol, contemplating several happenings in recent days. More importantly, her struggles with her aether. She stood tall with her conventional, but dashing, red mage uniform, representing the almost forgotten art and its lost champions. Her hair was neatly tied back with only a few strands escaping the red band. Her lips were covered with a scarlett rouge red paint, and her eyes shined in between the shades of her eyeshadow. Despite the situation with the Resistance and Garlemald, she found ways to include her normal hobbies in her schedule, including makeup. Alas, it wasn’t enough to get her to stop thinking about recent events. 

Lindsey McKales, the Hyur woman, stood with crossed arms just outside of Rhalgr’s Reach on top of a high cliff that looked down at the Fringes. She looked up at the moon’s glow with wonder and questioning. Why? Why does this get worse, now? This…curse? Surely, Bluma had helped her figure this out in the Shroud, and yet, here she was. A theory in the young woman’s mind was that due to her aetheric abilities getting stronger, the void magics within her would swell. And, strangely, the phases of the moon would affect her condition, sometimes greatly.

The "curse" in question? Many summers ago, Lindsey had gained a strange, dangerous power that was quite similar to that of a voidsent's. It would alter her body and form, making her vulnerable to the void's influence. It also granted her great power, having her take on an altered form of a wolf. Monstrous, dark, and deadly, she had no choice but to hide it. Bluma, one of her closest friends, helped her control any urges she might have had and taught her how to balance her aetherial magicks and retain control. Due to Lindsey's frivolous nature, she took advantage of her progress and turned by herself, occasionally, to better understand her new form. But ever since joining the Resistance, she no longer had that kind of privilege.

Irritated, Lindsey looked down and shook her head with a growl, her lips curling up to form a snarl. “You had to make this even more difficult, didn’t you?” She looked back up to the moon. The bright figure reflected in Lindsey’s intense eyes, almost to say something, and yet, no answer was given directly. Lindsey waited for some sort of sign, then groaned when the land stayed silent. “Well! Guess I’m not gettin’ an answer anytime soon. I’ll find out, eventually.” With a defeated shrug, she made her way down the rocks and back to Rhalgr’s Reach, hopefully to something non-devastating or stressful. On her walk back, she couldn’t help but replay the events of the other night. 

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

Alone in the Barber, Lindsey administered a few of her concoctions to her bruises and scars from a previous battle. She hissed at the scrapes that were fresher as she applied the medicine. With a raised brow, she looked up to see if anybody had heard her pained vocals. Luckily, no one was around just yet. Unsure of how many people were out, she decided to get up and check to see how many folks were still awake, and walk off any of the pain she had felt while she did so. She raised herself off the bed, sheathed her rapier and made her way to the center of Rhalgr’s Reach. As she looked around, she spotted a good amount of her allies conversing with one another. Being part of the rebellion was a good thing, she thought, and it was this that allowed her to meet a few people who would prove to be lifelong friends. However, it was a true test of her abilities and character. 

She recognized a few of the people still wandering, one of them being Ariale Albilon, a new friend she had made shortly after joining the Resistance. Lindsey thought about walking over to say hello, however, she decided against it soon after. Ari was already suspicious of Lindsey’s strange behavior, and seemed to have more questions every time they met up. Intelligent, inquisitive, and perceptive, she would have to know about Lindsey’s curse someday, whether it be through careful observation or straight from Lindsey’s mouth. She wasn’t quite ready to explain it all just yet, though. Hells, she hardly even knew how to explain it, other than saying, ‘I turn into a freaky dog at night.’ Lindsey smacked her lips together and made a slight grimace, then swiftly made herself scarce to avoid any questions. 

She slipped into the shadows, away from any curious eyes, and looked around to make sure no one had followed. She spared a few moments to make sure she was in the clear. As soon as she felt ready, she continued her walk around the base, making sure to stay under the shade. Suddenly, she stopped. Slowly creeping up her spine, a chill sent shivers through her body. A strange presence was nearby and she couldn’t tell what it was. All she could do was sense it. She calmly stood in the dark, eyes darting back and forth. She lifted her head up slowly and listened for any odd sounds, eyes still looking for anything suspicious. Unable to find any clues through this, she closed her eyes and took in the air surrounding her trying to pick up a scent, and lo, she did. It was foul, and quite familiar. A type of familiar that made the hairs raise on her arms. With her curiosity heightened, and a sense of danger on the side, she decided to investigate the situation further. She took one last look at the area before walking off to find a trail.

The moon that night was full, so it lightened the land beautifully. Lindsey couldn’t help but appreciate the natural lighting while she walked out of the base. As Lindsey moved away from Rhalgr’s Reach, the presence she had felt grew much stronger, and her body started to feel heavy. She muttered to herself in an annoyed, breathy voice, “what the fuck is this thing?” Her answer would come after following the now very clear trail of aether it, whatever it was, had left. She walked nonchalantly as she followed the trail. However, the closer she got, the more it began to fade away. Realizing she didn’t have much time, she began to run alongside the path, following it all the way to Schism, a landmark in Gyr Abania. She ran up to the stairs of the temple, and took a moment to observe her surroundings, including Schism. The scent was unmistakable, at this point; whatever she was following was waiting inside. She ran up the steps and into the temple, only stopping once she was completely inside. Then, she let herself tread slower. The steps of her boots sounded throughout the temple, the heels causing a ‘clack’ to echo with every step. Her eyes wandered all over the structure, and met with the entryway to the next room as she approached it. Her body felt even heavier, and yet, she still walked on. Her feet were suddenly harder to lift, even for her. Without warning, she felt the tip of her shoe hit a stack of broken tiles on the floor, and nearly tripped and fell. “Fuck, fuck!” She regained her balance and stepped over the broken tiles. At this point, she was losing her patience.

She adjusted her posture, and looked down the path that led deeper into the temple. She exclaimed, “Hey! Might as well show yourself, now! The only way outta here is through me!” Her voice echoed throughout the temple, alarming anything that was in it. “Or, I guess if you can use, like, aether, you’re fine…” she said in a quieter tone. She groaned and continued walking into the temple, the light from outside becoming dimmer and dimmer as the shadows enveloped her path. Lindsey treaded carefully through the darkened entryway and made her way down a small flight of stairs. Small cracks in the ceiling allowed some light to seep in, just enough to lighten parts of the path. Suddenly, footsteps could be heard nearby. Slow, gentle footsteps that sounded like they were coming from the path straight ahead. She stopped to look for anything odd, and placed her hand on the handle of her rapier. Her head turned to every corner of the room, yet nothing could be seen. Slowly, she started to feel a light brush against her neck, light enough to send shivers down her body. 

“LINDSEY…”

As clear as day, she heard someone call her name. Something. It was as if the thing was right next to her ear. She quickly turned her body towards the presence and unsheathed her weapon. “Listen, I don’t like doing this sneaky shite, alright? Get out and show yourself already!” She responded aggressively. The entity which called her was nowhere to be found, though its presence was still there. She swayed her sword left and right as she looked for the voice’s owner. She turned back to the path up ahead, and her eyes widened at the sight.

A dark figure, covered in shadows, stood calmly in the middle of the path. The face couldn’t be seen, if there even was a face to be seen. Some sort of black liquid oozed off of the figure, fully visible to Lindsey’s eyes. They kept their head low, and their posture was slouched. Lindsey’s brows furrowed as she approached the figure. “I dunno why you were in Reach, but I can suggest some more scenic places that aren’t in the middle o-” Her voice cut off. Her body was completely anchored by a dark, powerful force. She dropped to her knees and lost the grip she had on her weapon, letting it fall to the floor. “W-what?!” The dark figure watched Lindsey as she struggled, and slowly raised their hand to reach out for her. They began walking towards her, slowly but surely. Their voice was much less clear, now, and they began to whisper to her. 

“…succumb…

…Strength…cannot…

…lost…”

A dark cloud began to envelop Lindsey, weighing her down even more than before. She felt her throat fill with a warm, foul liquid, much like how it did the first time she transformed. She coughed and gagged, and spat out a tar-like substance onto the floor, leaving a small puddle of it in front of herself. With all her strength, she tried to raise herself from the ground. Whatever this thing was, it was making her want to transform.

“This is…mine. I…control this!” She tried to shout at the figure with a weakened, raspy voice. She looked up to the figure with anger and determination, but couldn’t keep herself up that much longer. 

“I’m sorry…

…I cannot…” 

As the last words of the entity were whispered, Lindsey’s vision faded to black. 

The dawn of a new day appeared, and its rays of light shined through the cracks in the temple’s ceiling. Slowly, one gently shined on the Hyur’s cheek, greeting her warmly after the haunting ordeal from the night before. Today’s a new day, little mortal. Wake up and rise from your slumber…

The sun’s warm rays began to shine into her eyes, tempting the woman to open them and finally wake. Or, simply turn to avoid the light. She groaned, and did exactly that. Once her body was turned over, her face landed on a warm, wet spot on the ground. Extremely fatigued, but still curious, Lindsey rose her head to see what she rested her face on. It was black. She quickly picked herself up and moved away from the spot, realizing that it was the puddle she made from the previous night. The previous night, she remembered. She looked up to the spot where the mysterious figure had stood. There seemed to be no trace of them whatsoever. Lindsey furrowed her brows, puzzled by the situation. “Aw, gods dammit! Did I…crash here?” She groaned. She rubbed her chin with her sleeve, hoping to rid her face of any drool she might have had. When she looked at her arm, however, she saw black ink smeared on the red fabric of her outfit. Her mouth was covered in the black substance, meaning this attempt at the transformation was…a bit more violent than usual. It was troubling.

“Ugh…I’m sure I made someone worry. Well…how should the story go this time…?” Her voice trailed off, and she began to hum to herself a silly tune. She made her way out of the temple and back to Rhalgr’s Reach. Strangely enough, she found a broken bottle on the ground, most likely for alcohol. From there, she knew what to say to anyone who was curious about her whereabouts. The rest is history.

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

The night sky still covered the land with darkness, yet the moon and the stars shined light where needed. Lindsey continued her walk back to Rhalgr’s Reach, replaying the memory in her head over and over. Something about that individual seemed familiar, and yet, she couldn’t quite put a finger on it. She was glad that she was able to lie to everyone and label her wanderings as a “drunken adventure.” However, a lie can only last for so long. 

Lindsey confidently strolled into the base with an exaggerated swagger. She waved to anybody she recognized and flirtatiously blew a few kisses to the women she liked. After her greetings, she made her way northeast of Rhalgr’s Reach, where a calm waterfall flowed down the rocks. Waiting by the waterfall was a blue-haired, blue-eyed viera with freckles that peppered her face like the stars do the sky. She stood near the rocks to hide from any wandering eyes. Lindsey approached her with a flirtatious smirk, hoping to butter her up before the conversation started. 

“Hey, Bluieee! Did you miss meee?”

The viera, Bluma, looked up at her friend with a smile. She chortled, and nodded. “You were only gone for a few moments.”

“Yeah, well, those few moments were like, super torturous, right?”

“I was finally able to do my research during those quiet moments.” She chuckled teasingly.

Lindsey’s mouth hung agape. She scoffed at the comment, and placed her hands on her hips. “Alright, then I’ll just leave. And take my sweet bee-hind with me!” She turned around and began walking away. “Enjoy your books, four-eyes!”

Bluma giggled. “But you wanted to talk, not I.”

The red mage froze in her tracks. She slowly turned back around to look at her friend. “Ohhh, right…glad you remembered.” She looked at Bluma with a goofy smile on her face, and walked back to her. She nodded at the viera, happy to have her company.

Bluma nodded, and pulled over a small satchel hanging on her side to bring out a journal. Lindsey watched as she did this, a little confused as to why she was seemingly preparing to write something. 

“Hey, are you gonna record everything I say?!”

“Nooo, I wanted to show you something after you said your part.”

Lindsey paused. For a moment, she wanted to continue questioning, but she shook her head and got back on track. “Um, right, whatever. Anyways! Listen, remember that night where I was uh, ‘drunk?’”

“Mhm.” The viera nodded attentively.

“Ok, so like…you know that was a whole round of buffalo shite, right?”

“Um…well…” Bluma lifted her hand to her mouth, hesitant on commenting any further.

“Just say it.”

“Y-yes, though…I don’t think anyone else suspects anything.”

Lindsey slumped her shoulders and rolled her eyes. “Uuuugh…it seems like nothing can get past you.”

Bluma shook her head. “No, no, it was just intuition that time.”

“Well, can you, like…stop being so intuition-y?” She jabbed Bluma’s forehead with her sharp, pink nail. “You don’t have to know everything that I do!”

Bluma rubbed her forehead, where Lindsey had left a slight mark. “But if you didn’t want me to know this, then why did you want to tell me?”

“I didn’t! I just knew that YOU knew!”

“I’m sorry! I’m just…”

An awkward silence came between them, both unsure of how to continue the conversation. Bluma took a moment to look at the cover of her journal, debating on whether or not she should even bring up her findings. With a deep breath, she brushed through the pages, and looked up at Lindsey with a smile. “If it’s alright, may I show you my piece?”

Lindsey looked at Bluma, surprised. She felt bad about her little outburst, but was happy that Blu didn’t lose interest in the conversation.  “Um…sure, go ahead.”

Bluma smiled and sat on the ground, patting a spot next to her for Lindsey to sit. The red mage perked up, and made her way to the spot next to Bluma, plopping down eagerly. Bluma nodded and began to turn through her journal to find a specific page. She landed on a section about white and black magic, specifically how it’s used by Red Mages. “Look at this! What we hypothesized was close after all!” Lindsey looked closely at the pages. A drawing of a blonde girl with her hair red at the tips was on one page, with several notes taken near it. 

Lindsey paused for a moment. “Umm…what am I looking at here?”

Bluma eagerly nodded. “I might have found a connection to your condition. You see, this girl, I believe her name was Arya, suffered from a condition where if she practiced her magicks too often, or over-exerted herself, she would lose control and become hostile to just about anyone. In this case, however, a separate entity was fighting for control over her.” She looked back up at Lindsey with worrisome eyes. “Do you think that might be the case for you?”

Lindsey blinked, trying to process the new knowledge Bluma had brought up. “Uhhhh…” She paused to think to herself for a moment. “It’s…complicated. Sometimes, I feel like it’s something working against me, but sometimes, it’s like…” 

Bluma watched Lindsey explain, attentive to every detail. 

“Like…it’s just me. The only downside is like, I get insanely hungry…and tired.”

“Hungry is right.” Bluma couldn’t help but giggle. “Though, I suppose that’s similar to the voidsents’ need to feast on living aether…” She turned back to the pages and continued to read what she had written. “There used to be mages that would ingest the blood of voidsent for powers beyond our imagination. So, I suppose this isn’t entirely new.”

“Hmm…so somebody decided to mix their loot with my drink, did they?”

Bluma shrugged. “I doubt that, but maybe that concept can lead us to different cases.”

“I guess…”

Another pause came between them, this time, much more relaxed. Lindsey turned the pages and found more notes about the topic throughout them. She was impressed, and a bit flattered that even after all this time, Bluma was still interested in helping her. She stopped on a page filled with only writing and looked back to Bluma. “Um…hey, Blu? How did you get all of this stuff in the first place?”

Bluma looked up at Lindsey, unsure of how to answer. Then, she smiled softly, and gently placed her index finger over her lips. “You don’t have to know everything I do. I have my ways.” She winked slyly. 

Lindsey’s eyes widened. She couldn’t help but chuckle at the callback. “Touche.”

Bluma giggled. She placed the journal on the ground in between them, just in case Lindsey wanted to flip through the pages a bit more. “Anyroad, feel free to browse my research any time! Especially if it can give you peace of mind.”

“Um…thanks.”

Bluma looked at Lindsey with a warm smile, and nodded approvingly. “My pleasure.”

“Right…um, Blu?”

Bluma looked up at her friend, a brow slightly raised due to her curiosity. “Yes?”

“Look, uh…you do a lot. I don’t want my stupid shite to clog that brain of yours. You’re fun to be around when we’re not talking about dramatic stuff. That’s why I was a little pissed that you figured that out so easily.”

The viera looked on, slightly surprised. 

“Stop worrying so much! Maybe you’ll stop gettin’ those little spots on your face if ya do.” Lindsey lightly pinched a small zit on the side of Bluma’s face. Bluma’s eyes widened. She gently placed her hand where Lindsey had spotted the small bit of acne. Obviously, she was embarrassed that she didn’t notice that sooner. She shrugged, looking up at her close friend with admiration.

“I just want you well, is all. Genuinely, you’re…quite possibly the most wonderful person I’ve ever met. Ferocious appetite and all…” Bluma shrugged, and revealed a slight blush that covered her freckled cheeks. She looked at Lindsey with glittering eyes, almost as dazzling as the night sky above.

Lindsey didn’t know how to respond. All she could do was stare. Her heart was pounding faster, and she could feel her cheeks warming up more and more. Her eyes twitched as she tried to comprehend what she was feeling. All that she could form with words was:

“I’m sorry.”

Lindsey got up hastily from her spot and started to make her way out. “Well! Thanks for the help. I’ll sleep on some of that and decide on what to do with it later. For now, I wanna dream about something that’s not associated with whatever the fuck is threatening us at the moment.” She turned back to her friend with a sly smirk. “You should rest that pretty little head of yours as well.”

Bluma was taken aback by the response, and a bit unsure if Lindsey had taken what she had said positively. Nonetheless, she nodded and rose up with her journal and notes in hand. “You’re right. It is a bit late.”

“But, seriously, thanks for the extra stuff, Blu. Not everybody has that level of dedication.” Lindsey replied with a nervous smile. 

“You’re welcome. I hope you rest well, Lin.” Bluma said softly. She waved, and watched her friend walk off to her tent. 

Just moments ago, Lindsey was attempting to ask a deity about her cursed lycanthropy, which was only met with silence. Turns out, there were answers. She was just looking in the wrong direction.

Thank you for reading! &lt;3

[greyias]

The Prompts for days thing 81. “We’re in the middle of a thunderstorm and you want to stop and feel the rain?” (cause this just sounds adorable) XD

As a spy, Theron was accustomed to planning for the worst-case scenario in his assignments. Digital reconnaissance was a necessity in staying alive, so he had diligently prepared everything ahead of time. He’d mapped out all the network relays of Zakuul’s presence on Voss, loaded as many programs and exploits as he could fit into his implants’ memories and his datapad, and made sure he had backup communications in hand so they didn’t have a repeat of the Tatooine incident, where he had nearly gotten blown to bits alongside the Alliance Commander.

What he had neglected to prepare for, to his great chagrin, was the weather.

When the foreboding dark clouds rolled in across the horizon, they were speeding through the Pelath-Ri Marches towards the coordinates provided by Rokuss, the leader of Voss’s resistance movement. It forced them to leave the well-worn trail and take cover in one of the nearby caves as a dark, thick curtain of rain grew closer and closer. The sharp tang of ozone in the air told them they were in for quite the show.

The ceiling of the cave was high enough to keep them dry, save for the occasional drip, so they decided to wait out the storm. Theron drew his datapad and attempted to send a message to Miot, who was still waiting at the shuttle, but the electricity crackling in the clouds seemed to be producing too much interference. Or maybe the Sullustan had stepped away for a caf break. He grumbled under his breath and ran his fingers through his already unruly hair, making it stand even more on end.

“Are you being grumpy back there?” The question was tinged with amusement.

A glance up from his datapad revealed Grey was kneeling at the mouth of the cave, her fingertips tracing the patterns of the rivulets of water as it cascaded over her hands. She was calm, quiet, her eyes following the water as it flowed around her hands, oblivious to the chaos of the storm outside. Despite her actions, he could have sworn she somehow wasn’t actually getting wet. 

“What are you doing?” Theron quirked a brow at her.

Instead of the expected answer regarding the rain, she just said, “Listening.”

“Ah yes, the soothing sounds of a torrential downpour. How relaxing.”

“Some people find it relaxing,” she said with a hint of amusement, “but that’s not what I’m listening to.”

An urge to roll his eyes at the obvious Force nonsense rose in him, but he resisted it. She never seemed to find his disdainful quips about the Force nearly as amusing as he did — one of the many downsides of dating a Jedi, he supposed. “Then what are you listening to?”

“It’s hard to put into words,” she said after a moment. “The sound of a raindrop hitting the ground may be similar everywhere, but the way it flows is not. Thunderstorms on Odessen have this powerful beat that seems to harmonize with the rainfall. Here it’s more discordent, more turbulent. The vibrations of it as it crashes into the ground are a counterpoint to the steady rhythm of the rain. A bit like the duality of Voss itself.”

Theron was pretty sure that he had never listened to precipitation that closely in his life, and in all honesty, never planned to. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, but as much as I’m enjoying this little poetry reading, I don’t really want to get waterlogged.”

Grey didn’t reply, but her eyes never left the rain as it poured down, an expression of almost… longing on her face. There had been many times in Theron’s life where he once wished for the same connection to the Force that the Jedi had. He craved information, explanations for everything around him — and that there was this entire spectrum walled off to him, that he’d never be able to feel. It was difficult to not resent it in a way. But it was that look on her face, that feeling of peace and belonging and yet simultaneous yearning — he’d never be able to truly understand it. And that stung.

The water continued to splash off her palm, splattering against her armor and the gloves, and if she kept it up, she’d be drenched before long. And they hadn’t exactly brought a spare set of clothes to change into.

“I didn’t exactly bring a towel for you to dry off,” he pointed out.

“I don’t need a towel, I can use the Force.”

It took him a moment to process that. “Wait, what? You can use the Force to dry yourself off?”

She pressed her lips together, as if trying to suppress a laugh, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Kidding.”

The playful teasing could have annoyed him, but in the dim light of the cave, the way the water droplets clung to her hair and eyelashes gave her an almost ethereal quality. Like some otherworldly being from beyond the stars. She turned away from him as a few more water droplets trickled across her head and down her neck. He noticed the rivulets of water had soaked through the knees of her pants and were now dripping onto the cave floor. Correction: an ethereal, otherworldly being that was unfortunately on her way to getting soaked to the bone.

With a shake of his head, he said, “Maybe you should save all of that weather poetry slam for another time, because right now you’re getting soaked.” 

A rumble resonated in the distance, and she angled her head towards it, gaze fixed on the horizon. Although he couldn’t see what she was looking at, he could tell she was still straining to hear something. 

“I’m sure you can hear the thunder or the Force or whatever it is just as well in the dry area of the cave,” he added.

She flashed him that look again, amused with her lips pressed together as if she saw right through his sarcasm. If he didn’t know any better, he might think she was trying not to laugh. The cave became darker, as if the clouds outside had closed in and blocked out almost all the daylight. After a few more moments of whatever nature communing she had been doing, she finally relented and stood.

“Fine, you win,” she said, attempting to use her cape to wipe some of the water away.

“It’s not a contest.”

The brow she quirked in his direction indicated she didn’t quite believe that. “If we do not want to brave the storm, then I believe we might be stuck here for a little while. The storm appeared quite large.”

At that moment the thunder cracked again, echoing in the cave, and he felt it in his chest, in his bones. He could see her silhouette in the faint light, reaching up to her hair, fingering the wet, limp strands. The space between them shrunk in just a few steps, and without much thought he shrugged out of his jacket and draped it over her shoulders. That ethereal Jedi vanished as she blinked up at him in surprise. He flashed her a sheepish grin in reply, although he wasn’t sure if she’d really be able to see it in the darkness.

She hugged the jacket closer to her body as if she were suddenly aware of the chill in the air. “Thank you.” 

“I can’t have you catching a cold.” He meant for the comment to come out cool and casual, but it was laced with more than a hint of affection. “Who will save the galaxy then?”

She bit her lip, as if trying to hide that same, almost bashful smile he seemed to summon in moments like these. If there had been more illumination in the cave, he imagined he might see the usual flush that accompanied that look. He reached out, his fingertips grazing her cheek as they followed the curve of her face. He could just feel the heat of her blush radiating through his gloves. It was times like this, when she was soft and vulnerable and open, that all the sharp edges he’d honed to keep people out were utterly useless. At least against her.

His hands glided down to her hips almost of their own accord as she moved forward, their faces inches apart, their breath mingling in the air. He detected the sweetness of her breath, a hint of the caf she’d been drinking earlier. He drew closer as her mouth parted, his own lips hovering just above hers, neither of them moving. And then, with a sudden surge of wind that sent the rain nearly horizontal outside the mouth of the cave, the thunder crashed again. The burst of lightning that followed was so bright that it lit up the cave for just a moment, and he could see that same sparkle in her eyes that made his heart race.

In that moment, the only thing in existence was the two of them. The rain, the storm, the wind, all of it vanished — leaving only him and her. As his lips brushed against hers, the thunder crashed again, as if in time with their hearts. And if only for a second, he thought he heard that same rhythm she’d been trying to describe echoing through the cave.

[hello-nichya-here]

alright, bestie just pretend you don't know who I am. no one does. actually tipsy this time. living up to my reputation. modern au high school this time 'cause why not

---

Azula examined herself in the full-length mirror in her bedroom. It wasn't the intricate, gorgeous oversized mirror she was used to in her father's manor. Nor were the tiny pajama shorts and cropped tank top name brands she was familiar with. They were cheap Walmart items Ursa had picked up.

Azula sighed, trying to fix her mood to be reasonable. She didn't want to be an embarrassing nuisance. It was just very difficult to hold back the hundreds of complaints she had about the cheap shampoo and the dollar store bottled waters, so different from the imported sparkling stuff Azula was accustomed to.

There was a knock at the door. Azula rolled her eyes, expecting her mother. She had lived here a month now, and a month was already too long with Ursa. "Yes?"

Zuko burst into the room, walking over and throwing himself back on Azula's bed. The two of them had maintained a cold but formally polite relationship for years. Ever since Azula moved here though, it was different. Zuko had started opening up about - well, everything. Zuzu was not known for his subtlety, after all.

Azula couldn't resist the urge to laugh. She closed her bedroom door and walked over to sit on the edge of the bed. "Hey dum dum. How was your day?"

Zuko huffed in annoyance, causing Azula to giggle. He was so dramatic. Zuko glared. Azula lay back on the bed beside him, grinning. Zuko was wearing just sweatpants and no top, ready for bed himself. He looked so adorable. Wait - where did that thought come from?

"Shitty," Zuko said. "My day was shitty. I'm so sick of getting in trouble all because-"

"You're loud and can't resist causing problems?"

Zuko turned his head, glaring at Azula. Azula just grinned, enjoying the way his features softened at her amusement.

"What's up with you?" Zuko asked, his voice softer, less intense than when he was venting.

Azula smiled, scooting closer to him on the bed. She missed her old home and her father. She missed Mai and Ty Lee. She could admit that, in the privacy of her head. But it was good to have Zuko here. "I'm okay."

"Don't lie."

Azula sighed, rolling her eyes. "I am. I'm just...I miss name-brand pajamas. How stupid is that?"

Zuko laughed. Azula sat up, grabbing a pillow and smashing it into his face. Zuko wrestled her for it, trying to shove the fluffy weapon back at her. Azula couldn't hold back the peal of laughter, letting herself be pushed back in the bed as Zuko rolled on top of her, hitting her in the face with the pillow.

They were both lost to breathless laughter as Zuko won the wrestling match - although Azula pretty much let him. He was on top of her on the bed, holding the pillow against her with a threatening smirk.

"Okay, it's stupid," Azula said. "Fine."

Zuko's smirk changed to a soft smile. "No," he said. "I get it. The change is weird." His eyes darted downward, toward her tank top, which his bare chest was pressed against. Azula suddenly felt warm all over, way too aware of her legs tangled with Zuko's. "Besides," Zuko said. "The pajamas you're wearing are cute."

Knowing who you are? Whaaaat? I have no clue...

Poor Azula, dealing with former rich girl problems. And I loved seeing Zuko just throwing himself on her bed without giving a fuck because he needs to vent and his baby sister is there XD

It really does feel like something he'd do since he is a drama queen, it adds a bit of a family vibe, and yes, Azula was totally correct, it was adorable, I would have snuggled with him.

Azula struggling a bit to admit she isn't adjusting all that easily is a nice touch, especially since it led to an adorable pillow fight. I loved that you called the pillow "the fluffy weapon."

I have zero issue believing that Azula's pajamas were cute, but I do NOT believe that the cuteness was the only thing Zuzu noticed. Gotta check out his adorable, pretty, sexy baby sister.

[twistedtummies2]

Christopher Lee: A Sinister Centenary - Number 18

Welcome to Christopher Lee: A Sinister Centenary! Over the course of May, I will be counting down My Top 31 Favorite Performances by my favorite actor, the late, great Sir Christopher Lee, in honor of his 100th Birthday. Although this fine actor left us a few years ago, his legacy endures, and this countdown is a tribute to said legacy! Today’s Subject, My 18th Favorite Christopher Lee Performance: Mr. Midnight, from The Return of Captain Invincible.

Before “The Incredibles,” there was the extremely odd superhero spoof musical comedy “The Return of Captain Invincible!” And there’s a good reason one is better remembered than the other. XD Captain Invincible is a very bizarre film, for a lot of reasons, and it’s a film that’s difficult to categorize: it’s such a strange blend of elements, in terms of plot, characters, and even editing that it’s legitimately hard to tell where the level of competency making it begins or ends. How much of the madness is intentionally funny and how much of it is just weirdness beyond comprehension, where is the line between them drawn? So many questions, so few answers…but hey, at least it gives Christopher Lee a chance to shine in a big way. The movie focuses on the adventures of the titular Captain Invincible (played by Alan Arkin). He's a typical quasi-Superman type of character, crossed with a hint of Captain America: he was a big deal in the days of WWII, but disillusionment with the world around him has caused the former hero to go into a reclusive retirement. He’s brought back into the fold, however, when he learns of evil schemes concocted by his old arch-nemesis: Christopher Lee’s evil Mr. Midnight – a mad scientist who is implied to possibly be the literal embodiment of evil itself. Disregarding the fact his name sounds like something you’d call your cat (seriously, “Midnight” alone would have been cool, but putting the “Mister” before it makes it sound oddly cute, in my opinion), this really is one of Lee’s finest performances, and apparently it was a personal favorite of his. This is basically what you would have gotten had Christopher Lee ever played a 60s Batman Villain: he’s campy and over-the-top, but there’s an edge to him that gives him genuine menace in several scenes, despite the overall screwball tone of the piece. All of the movies’ absolute best scenes belong to Sir Christopher, as you might expect, and he brings an air of unusual dignity to this completely batty flick. The main reason to watch this film, however, is the musical numbers…most particularly the two that Lee gets. This is actually the main reason Lee loved the part so much: as I said before when discussing his Metal Albums, Lee loved music and chances to sing, but he very rarely got those opportunities onscreen. “The Return of Captain Invincible” is one of those rarities: first, there’s a duet between Mr. Midnight and the Captain, as each realizes their old nemesis is back in business, and begin to get ready for the oncoming, inevitable confrontation. Then – more famously – there’s the more comedic song “Name Your Poison,” which might well be one of the single most INSANE villain songs of all time. So, try to follow me here: Captain Invincible’s “kryptonite” is alcohol. (In other words, he’s a drunk, but they literally treat it like it’s kryptonite, if that makes sense.) During his final encounter with Mr. Midnight, the dark scientist summons a fully-stocked bar, and while Captain Invincible cowers and writhes, trying to resist the power of the alcohol and his urge to indulge…Mr. Midnight sings a wild, showstopping song about…well…how much fun it is to get drunk, basically. Practically every other lyric is a pun or name drop involving various beverages, as Lee dances like he’s in “Cabaret” and his vocals rock the room, racing through the full breadth of his range as he extolls on the pleasures of being a total soak. It is…exactly as gloriously demented as it sounds, and honestly, the two songs alone are worth checking out on their own terms, let alone watching the rest of this equally demented movie. As weird as “The Return of Captain Invincible” may be, I think all of us can agree on this: any film that gives Christopher Lee a chance to play an old-fashioned comic-book-style baddy AND gets not just one, but TWO musical numbers? Clearly, that movie is doing SOMETHING right. Tomorrow, the countdown continues, as I present my choice for Number 17!

[daddy-eggman]

Modern x classic Eggman is real, there's no fucking way that nothing happened between them because it's always been super obvious that Eggman wants to fuck himself so badly and he'd absolutely take up the opportunity to finally do so 👀

Of course they immediately admired each other's handsomeness and intelligence as they big egotists they are. They were delighted to finally find someone that knew them so well and made them truly feel respected and understood. (Even though they're the exact same person it counts lol.) It was love at first sight because they instantly felt what they always feel when they look in the mirror, only now it's like being able to touch and feel their reflections. They were quick to get very friendly, flirt playfully, and got close and intimate fast when it comes to cuddles and sleeping together in one very big sturdy bed.

But they didn't admit the intensity of their attraction to each other right away, despite knowing that the feeling would be mutual as they're the same person. They both decided to wait to see who would make the first move because they were curious and wanted to see would be the most desperate. In the meantime, they wondered what it would be like to kiss each other's soft cheeks and lips and the desire to explore each other's bodies grew stronger the closer they got. It was only a matter of time before their over friendliness and playful flirting turned into something more.

Modern has become much more confident and open in his attraction to himself and other men over the years, so he was the one that made it most obvious that he's into classic before the other way around. He didn't try to hide it whenever he was shamelessly checking him out from head to toe, as classic could see that he was looking him up and down. He also clearly kept getting distracted while admiring classic's body to the point that he had to try to urge him to snap him out of it when they were supposed to be having important conversations about their plan. XD

When they slept together in bed, modern eventually got cheeky and encouraged classic to go shirtless and only sleep in underwear just like him. When he wasn't wearing his shaded glasses, classic could see his eyes were clearly looking lower as he admired his tits, his cute perfect spherical shape, and his cock through his underwear. Classic blushed like mad and was like 'ahem, my eyes are up here' but modern just smirked and winked because he knew he loves the attention. When classic would turn his back to be the little spoon in nothing but his underwear, his eyes were glued to his ass and he had the immense urge to squeeze it and tell him how cute it is.

Classic was just a little bit more shy towards admitting how he felt and modern found this very cute. He'd try to sneak glances at modern to check him out because he couldn't resist. It got even more difficult to hold back whenever modern got real close, his eyes would run over his body and his heart would start racing as the desire to lean in and kiss him arose. Whenever modern would notice him checking him out, he'd boldly ask him if he likes what he sees while striking a pose. He said there's no hiding it from him because he knows that look after admiring himself in the mirror all his life. He smirks knowingly as classic blushes, unable to deny it.

They could tell that they clearly wanted each other so badly that it the words didn't even need to be said, so it they finally started kissing each other. First, they were just small pecks on each other's cheeks to tease each other, which already took them by surprise and got them flustered enough and they found each other's reactions adorable. They connected lips for the first time in the excitement of the moment, something made them finally meet when they were celebrating the progress of their plan. When they finally found out what it was like to kiss themselves for real after years of only being able to do so in the mirror, they quickly wanted more.

That night, modern had a dream about taking it further and classic was woken up by the feeling of his big boner pressed against his ass. Modern woke up very excited and nuzzled into his neck, finally telling him how badly he wants him. Classic finally admitted that he felt the same way and they decided now was the time to finally have some fun. They pressed their bodies up against each other to compare them, then started to feel each other up, grabbing each other's tits, to massage and play with them and rubbing and squeezing each other's bellies and butts while they made out, loving the feeling of their big tongues in each other's mouths.

Modern sucked classic's tits and his hot tongue lapping his sensitive nipples and suckling his tits so lovingly made classic shiver with glee. Modern loved hearing him moan about how good he was making him feel. Soon he was rock hard too and their big bulges were pressed together, proving just how badly they were aching for each other. Classic then sucked modern's tits in return while modern squeezed classic's fat ass cheeks that he was so in love with and spread them apart, biting his lip as he was eager to slide his cock inside. His hands then traveled to classic's underwear and pulled them down to release his gorgeous thick cock and his mouth watered at the sight.

Classic giggled from the pleasure of modern pressing loving kisses to his stiff length and suckling his balls and the way his fluffy mustache tickled with it's feathery light brushes. When he takes him into his mouth, classic is in love with how warm and wet his mouth is with his excessive amount of saliva. The feeling of his big sloppy tongue swirling around his cock so passionately as he slobbered all over it had classic's head in the clouds and he couldn't resist thrusting deeper into his mouth. Modern demonstrated all his best learned techniques and showed him how deep he's learned to take cocks down his throat after years of improvement and it drives classic wild.

Modern still sometimes gets a little embarrassed to admit that he likes it when men sit on his face instead of just the other way around but he knows they can keep the secret between them as they're one in the same. He gets classic to lower himself onto his face and he kisses, licks, and sucks his hole so lovingly. He's so in love with his cute pink hole and his big plump ass and classic can hear his muffled hums of delight beneath him and can see how excited he is with his throbbing boner. He derives so much pleasure from burying his face between his fat cheeks that it's intoxicating, he hardly wants to move back for air and doesn't mind that it leaves him panting heavily.

Classic moans loudly when modern slips his big tongue inside his hole as deep as he can. Being as impressively large as it is, it stretches his hole in a way that no other man's tongue has and it feels amazing as he briefly fucks him with his tongue. It only makes him even more desperate to have his even bigger and thicker cock inside him. He pleads for it and modern finds his desperation cute and hot, he enjoys making him beg for it some more and finally be honest about how he feels after his initial slight shyness. He has years less experience than him with all this but modern says he doesn't have to be shy around him, it only makes it even more exciting.

It's well worth the wait when modern flips him over onto his belly and finally frees himself from his underwear. When his long thick cock slaps against his fat ass, classic knows he's in for one hell of a ride. It really spreads his cheeks and stretches his asshole in the way he deeply adores and modern growls from how damn good it feels to sink his cock deep into his former self's big plump ass. Classic is exhilarated by the feeling of his own cock slamming into him through modern. He gets to thrust into him just as hard and fast as he likes to take it because he knows he'll like the same, being the same guy has a lot of benefits and it's a biggest fantasy come true.

He makes it rough and passionate just like he knows they both like it and he loves to make him moan and cry out, squeezing and slapping his fat ass cheeks to hear more. He puts all his power and weight into it and pounds him hard with total accuracy and depth that makes him scream, his big heavy balls slapping against him as his cock pumps in and out faster and deeper. He groans and calls him his perfect little slut and classic's eyes roll back and he drools all over his pillow. He gets to yell out his own name as he cums so hard from the explosive orgasm and modern sighs happily and tells him he loves him while he releases his entire thick load into his ass.

It's the most satisfied the two have felt in a while, modern loves unloading into his gorgeous ass and classic loves being filled with his cum. They're left in a lovestruck blissful state as it hits them just how perfect they are for each other. From then on they're totally hooked and can't get enough, it takes self love to a whole new level! They're sure to have many more sessions as there's so much more they want to do together. They both know exactly what each other are into and modern knows of things that classic hasn't even discovered that he's into yet, so modern introduces him to them earlier and encourages him to embrace it so they can have even more fun together.

Modern with his years more of experience can also teach classic how to improve sooner and he gives him a few lessons while also enjoying getting to finally fuck himself. It's what he always dreamed of and he's addicted to the pleasure of every passionate thrust into his own ass, while classic loves how good his own cock feels in his ass. They're also sure to switch the roles, classic gets to fuck modern so he can show off how much harder, faster, and deeper he's learned to take cock over the years, so classic can aspire to be like him sooner.

Modern also helps classic learn how to handle bigger cocks at a rougher pace by introducing bigger dildos to him and helping him take them and he also has him suck his big cock and push him to take it deeper so he can guide him into deepthroating just as well as he can as his future self, so he can start expertly pleasuring bigger guys earlier. He didn't even need to get his teaching degree for this! When he's ready, they can invite other guys into the bed with them for even more fun. ;)

They definitely fucked during however much time they spent in the white space too. They were bickering while wandering around and got sick of hearing each other's complaints, so modern grabbed classic, pressed his big pink nose to his and told him to stop. But there was so much tension so they frustratedly kissed because they find each other so annoying but so sexy and they made out, which was certainly an effective way for them to shut each other up. They were soon all over each other and ripping each other's clothes off again. It helped relieve their stress and keep each other well entertained until they could finally find a way out heheh

[bewarethewolfarmy]

Cinnamon, Old Books, Chamomile

(Look I got a new obsession XD

Edit: Now with a sequel Sunlit Songs and Masterlist

Here have a fanfiction)

The bookstore was nothing special outside of the fact that it was the only place in a fifty mile radius that a) stocked 15th century literature in acceptable conditions for his needs, and b) was open at 5 in the morning. In actuality based on how many times Spencer Reid had gone there, at all hours of the day, only to find its door unlocked and business open, he was not entirely sure it was ever closed but he did not plan on complaining. He liked being able to get a book at a seconds notice and the owner never seemed to much mind obliging.

That night, morning, time he very much felt the need for a book, though this was sort of just an excuse. He wanted something else but he was trying to convince himself to make use of the soothing aspects of reading instead. The case had been difficult and draining, physically, emotionally; rest honestly might have been a better choice but he found himself instead drawn towards the little store tucked away in the silent, lonely depths of the city, his hand pushing open the door, a tiny ringing signaling his arrival.

The place always smelled of cinnamon and old pages, the soft dim lighting giving it a warm atmosphere that normally felt welcoming. He took a deep breath and glanced about, at stacks of old books, shelves filled with the same, a counter covered in paper and a old fashion register. This too set it apart from other places he supposed; most gave into the need for more advanced equipment. In this place though at least, the world was still simple and smelled of the pleasant scent of old books. It reminded him of good things and bad too but he didn't mind right in the moment.

"Welcome to...oh its you Doctor Reid." The voice was familiar and soft, causing his head to turn towards where a staircase lead to a second floor. A woman walked down it, long black hair tied back in a messy braid, glasses slightly askew; he had decided long enough that she was the type who worked hard and didn't bother much to care for her appearance, often getting ink on her clothes and face when doing book restorations upstairs. He suspected she also baked up there, hence the cinnamon scent, and normally there were muffins or something set on the counter. A normal person would have worried about having food near so many old and valuable books but he got the sense she was not the type to tolerate anyone who might damage the books anyway so they were in no danger. Spencer had tried not to profile her, not the first time he accidentally found the place, nor the seventh time he'd visited and he'd ended up helping her deal with a belligerent customer. He'd lost count of how many times he'd gone there by now but still he resisted the urge to let his mind start to look too much into her; give him one pure thing at least.

He forced a smile and waved in his awkward wave, watching her reach the bottom of the stairs. "Hey Tsuki, sorry I'm in so late, I just figured..."

"No worries, you know my door is always open," she said waving off his apology; he noted she was holding a book under one arm that she set on the counter before tucking back some of her own hair behind her ear, "Though I must say it certainly is later than normal for you. Long day at work I suppose?"

"Yeah you could say that." The unsub had been difficult, hard to track, hard to capture, and when they did get them, the unsub had been one of the most irritating he'd ever seen. The whole team had been happy to see it over with and get back home to Quantico. Admittedly he wasn't home, he was there, in a bookstore, in the early hours of the morning...

He didn't realize that both of them had fallen quiet but the sound of rain starting to fall outside caught his attention and he turned to look; despite making it all the way there, despite everything else, this movement seemed too much and Spencer lost his balance, stumbling. He started to caught himself but felt his arm be grabbed at the same time and his body pulled back and back to equilibrium. The man blinked then looked over at where Tsuki stood, still holding onto him. She looked concern; he couldn't really be certain why.

"Are you alright?" She asked him.

"Y-yeah," he said and forced another smile, pulling himself free of her; he ran his hand over his bag, absentedly smoothing it down, "I'm fine, just a bit tired I suppose."

"You should get some rest then. As much as I like to see you, its more important that you get rest when you can," she said, furrowing her brow.

He supposed she was right but as far as he was concerned getting rest wasn't an option. If he left without a book he would just be walking into a situation where his self control would be in danger and he was trying not to give into the things a part of him did indeed want.

"No, no I'll be...I'll be fine. Don't worry about me, I came to see if you might have anything in stock of interest; have you gotten in any new stock?"

She raised an eyebrow, not saying anything at first. He didn't think she'd throw him out, he had worked relatively hard to build a good rapport with her and be a good customer; based on what he noticed, she was the type who appreciated considerate customers and didn't tolerate bad ones. Thus Spencer always did his best to treat the books with kindness and respect, talk to her about what he liked and what she liked. It had been interesting to find out they shared many interests and he honestly liked it there; it was calming and comforting and nice and warm. There wasn't murderers there or victims or fear or the pressure to do something. It was just...there and he didn't honestly want to leave.

He wobbled and again she seemed to realize this quickly and kept him from falling. The concern in her face grew but getting so close he noticed she too smelled of old pages and cinnamon, and something else; it too was strangely comforting to him and he dared to close his eyes for a second.

"Doctor Reid?" She said his name with some confusion, "Doctor Reid, are you sure you're alright?"

"I'm fine " he said and it was strange how heavy he felt now, "I just...want to stay here a bit."

"Alright then," Tsuki answered and he smiled, even just to himself.

He felt appreciative but he knew he'd need to actually look for a book. After all it was a bookstore, they sold books, he needed to buy a book if he was gonna be there. Spencer opened his eyes and tried to prepare himself to do more but she took him by surprise; before he could, she had grabbed his hand in hers, pulling him towards the stairs. He did not expect this, he didn't know what to do or what to make of it. And his hesitation gave her enough leeway to drag him up to an area he'd never been before.

For a while he'd suspected she lived above the store; it was the only way the store being open like it was was possible. The living space upstairs though looked very similar to the store below, full of books and shelves but with a few additions. A couch and coffee table against one wall, a open air kitchen filled with all the necessary things to cook, a door that he highly suspected either led to her bedroom or her workroom for restorations. Or maybe both. But this place felt much like the area he already knew and he was too busy trying not to take in everything so as not to profile the bookstore owner. She led him to the couch and forced him down; his bag landed beside him and he stared up at her.

"I'm going to go make you a cup of chamomile; you set your bag down and relax." She brokered no response, she turned to walk away and Spencer sat there, confused, uncertain, but didn't immediately get up.

"Chamomile, the apigenin chemicals in it have been found to induce sleepiness as well as act as a herbal anti-anxiety medication similar to benzodiazepines," he muttered, more to himself than anything else.

"Exactly," she answered him anyway and after putting a teapot to boil, passed by him again, "Put your bag on the floor, I'm gonna go get you a blanket and pillow."

"I don't understand what you're trying to do." She never struck him as the dangerous type and as a profiler he was pretty good at noticing dangerous people. But at the same time this was odd; outside the rain was coming down hard, pounding against the window behind him.

"You're tired, you need to rest, you don't want to leave so I'm letting you take a nap on my couch," she told him and went through the door from before: bedroom then.

"I," he started but she wasn't wrong. He was tired, he did need rest, he did say he didn't want to leave immediately. Still how that led to him sitting on her couch while she made him tea still felt a bit...confusing.

He ended up profiling her anyway. The room showed her to be a quiet individual, large family who lived elsewhere, one pet which was obviously the large chocolate Maine Coon that entered the room, looked at him and gave a meow before trotting off. She seemed to seriously love books, and there was a large variation in genres; he noted a first edition of the first book of Paradise Lost on the table before him and picked it up, looking it over better; it obviously had been restored, expertly at that, and the book was being well cared for now. A small bookmark, a pressed flower, was stuck between pages and he turned to there, starting to read.

He was engrossed and thus didn't notice the teapot whistle nor Tsuki setting the blanket and pillow down beside him and going to pour the tea. He barely noted her returning and setting the tea down before chuckling, only then drawing his attention. "That one is one of my favorites as well."

"This is from the first editions of the poem, before the reorganization and revisions," he stated looking at her, "Not many read that version."

She shrugged. "Not many have access to a complete, minimally damaged copy."

"You restored this I presume? It matches your work on the Dante and Dunbar I recently received from you."

"Restoration work is a must I think for any person who deals in antique books."

"It's good, very well done."

She smiled and gestured to the tea. "Come on now, if we start on talking about books neither of us will sleep. Here."

Spencer was hesitant, because he still didn't understand this situation, because he very much wanted to talk about books. But he picked up the cup anyway, taking a sip. It was warm and filled him from head to toe in it's gentle taste. He did not so much feel sleepy as he did relaxed; he took another sip and his wandering eye caught her sipping from her own cup. Maybe she too needed sleep; he was reminded again it was 5 in the morning and if she was already up he wondered if that meant she hadn't slept at all yet. Her hours seemed even stranger than his honestly.

"Thank you," he said finally, finishing his cup and handing it to her.

Tsuki took it with a smile, "No worries. Now again, set your bag down and try and get some rest."

"You don't often have strangers sleep on your couch," he said, making the mistake of making that a statement and not a question. He already knew though, he could tell by her room, her demeanor, the markers that told him what kind of person she was. Kind maybe but introverted, did socializing well on the outside but didn't really interact with others outside of work; she was someone who loved books and didn't feel comfortable around strangers.

She chuckled and headed to the kitchen. "You're not a stranger, Doctor Reid, you're one of my best customers."

"You don't treat all customers like this."

"Not all my customers come into my store, looking ready to collapse under their own body weight, with eyes pleading to be given sanctuary." Spencer did not know how to respond to that. She could be a capable profiler if she tried.

He took off his bag and set on the ground by the couch; pulling the blanket over him, he tried to maneuver his body to be comfortable on the couch as he laid down. It wasn't all that hard, the couch was strangely comfy. He set his head on the pillow and closed his eyes, trying to let himself sleep. The lights went out, he was sure that was her, but that didn't startle him. Nor did it startle him hearing footsteps and feeling long thin fingers brush hair out of his face. There again was that scent, that strange calming thing that he knew was coming from her. He knew deep down he should be on alert but he just felt calm. Cinnamon, old books, chamomile, something else.

He drifted off before he knew it and the rain continued to fall outside.

[odissey061]

Parenting with(out) you [pt. 2]

I didn’t specify very well in the last chapter, but the reader was a member in an organization similar to the Haunting Dogs (for the ones who read the manga), but with the difference that this organization was subdued to a politician, so their missions could also be like kill x person. She is a skilled killer and a very good fighter you have no idea about how many scenarios played in my mind with a Mafia!Dazai x Killer!reader. Dark couple power, guys--.

It’s also implied that the reader and Chuuya were friends when Dazai worked with the Mafia and when she escaped from her boss, Chuuya offered her a shelter (the first time Chuuya appears in the anime, he said he just arrived in Japan after spending some time in the east)

[Mild smut]

The gif has not plot purpose: I juast wanted admired once again this hottie in a white suit

 Your first encounter with Keiko… didn’t go very well: you teared up as soon as you saw her, but she hid behind her father’s leg, refusing to see you. Of course, Dazai told her that there was the possibility she could see you for the first time, but it was like three month ago and in the meanwhile the kid started to believe she was not going to meet you. For the first month, she saw you as a woman who wanted take away from her the only parent left. She only changed her behavior with you when Dazai scolded her harshly, because she said she hated you and she didn’t want to see you again. That was the first and the last time Dazai slapped her.

 Hearing those words, you started to cry too: you know it wouldn't be easy to make Keiko accept you in her life, but still… From another room, you listened to Dazai saying “I know is difficult for you; but she is your mother. I already told you that she didn’t leave us because she wanted, but because she was forced” and also “I just want the two women of my life to love each other, can you do this for daddy? ”.

 Then she came into yours and Dazai’s room and she sat on the bed, close to you. Keiko gazed at you for a long time, then she spoke:”You have the same hair as me and also your face is similar to mine. Daddy says that we can both understand him the most and that my character is really similar to yours when you meet for the first time. Are you really my mommy? You are not trying to take away my dad away from me, right?”. “No, of course not. I love you so much, Keiko. I’m sorry for disappearing, but I didn’t want to put yours and Osamu’s life in danger. I’m so, so sorry, Keiko”.

 Then you showed her your wallet: there was a folded photo of your daughter with Dazai. Only then Keiko understood you really were his mother and you were with her. She hugged you, crying, and begged you to don’t leave her again. “I will do everything in order to have your pardon” you said and with that words you firmed your own end. But we are going to see this later.

When you started to work at the ADA, you requested to be Yosano’s partner, due to your ability: you could force someone else to do what you wanted, but you had to hurt yourself and the more lethal the wound, more control you had. You and her became friends really fast since you were the woman more close to her age. Sometimes you helped her in her laboratory and other times you carried on a case alone.

You two often spent time together out of work and you accompanied her to go shopping under the other members of the Agency’s blessing, of course, but you refused whenever she proposed to you to drink together, saying that somebody was waiting for you at home  and she teased you about your lover. Well, she wasn’t completely wrong, but you were talking about your daughter. (Neither you or Dazai told your coworkers you were in a relationship and you also had a child).

At work, nobody knew that you two were engaged: the smarter ones understood that you and Dazai weren’t completely strangers, since you entered at work and left it at the same hours, really often you spent your breaks together etcc…; but they couldn’t imagine you were actually engaged (and you were parents!)

Let’s answer one of your questions: how did Dazai behave with you at work? Apparently, he treated you just like a colleague, but he subtly showed only to you how he cared for you. Dazai’s love language at work was impossible to notice until you knew him: every morning he left a cup of your favorite drink on the lab’s table, he was always slacking off or ignoring his work free when you had breaks and he spent them with you and he always searched for your eyes and smiled at you when you were in the same room (when you were in the lab, he often gazed at thee closed door. Kunikida seemed to have a super effective radar for when Dazai was distracted about you: every time he hit his head with the pile of documents he ignored). And he also loved caressing your hand when he passed by the spot where you were, or when you casually brushing his hair please, ask me to write something about this point T-T. His gestures were discrete and small, but they were there. you still preferred them to that time he made love to you in his study when he still worked for the Port Mafia cough cough.

You preferred to maintain a professional facade at work, but sometimes, at the first occasion nobody was looking, he took you in an unused room at the floor to spend some time with you alone ;). You two usually kissed for a long time, even if you seldom indulged in more carnal acts. You protested everytime, but Osamu insisted with his usual dramatic act that it was impossible to resist when you were so cute in that outfit. He also used the excuse that at home you had no privacy since Keiko was glued to your side, even when it was time to sleep much to Dazai’s mild annoyance since he couldn't do anything with you because Keiko slept between you and your boyfriend in your bed.

Speaking about your relationship, Yosano was the first who suspected that you and Dazai were engaged. In the Agency’s bar there was the rumor, between the maids, that Dazai had found a s/o, since every morning he bought for them a cup of their favorite drink. A day, you, Osamu and your respective partners went there to have a meal and a maid was thanking this Dazai’s s/o for existing, because thanks to them nor her of her colleague were harrassed by the question of committing a double suicide together. With a mild anger in your voice, you asked her to be more specific and for every word spilled by the maid, Dazai’s face became paler. needless to say, that night he slept in Keiko’s bed, as your daughter was with you. Yosano connected the dots and she understood you were something more than colleagues, but she kept your secret.        

 But how did the Agency find out you had a daughter? That’s a fun story. Remember when I said that the quote “I’ll do anything for you” doomed your downfall? Well, the little rascal (your kid) took this really seriously. This wicked brat listened to you talking with your boyfriend about you abandoning her and she exploited that to steal your attention: were you talking with Dazai on the sofa? She sat between the two of you, saying that she wanted to play with you. Were you working at home? She cried so much loudly that you gave up what you had to do and the list went on. It took a while to Dazai to realize that his daughter was stealing you away. You were fooled by Keiko’s angelic face, but Dazai knew this little devil too much well to be tricked. (He was one fours surprised for the cleverness she showed and three fours annoyed by it. Dazai, what did you expect from your own daughter XD).  Having said that, a day Keiko feigned to be sick in order to spend more time with you, but you had to work and the babysitter wasn’t available, so you thought bringing her to work was a good idea (spoiler: it wasn't).

 The first ones to see you with Keiko were Atsushi, Kyoka and Kunikida. A few seconds later came Kenji and the Tanizaki’s siblings. They all were fooled charmed by your daughter and they started to play with her, complimenting how cute she was. Then Naomi said:”Somehow, she looks familiar” and, after staring at her for a while, they all agreed, trying to understand who the father was. Kunikida shivered for a second noticing how similar she was to Dazai, but he couldn't imagine Dazai having a lover, let alone being a father. You heard a crash behind you and when you turned you saw a very much shocked Yosano who held in her hand a cup handle and Rampo with the open mouth as he was eating a candy. Your partner knew your relationship with Dazai, but discovering he was also a father shocked her too much, Rampo probably understood everything when he saw Keiko.

 Atsushi wondered:”But who is the father? Does he work here too?”. The poor, naive Atsushi, didn’t have the slightest idea and you couldn't even have the time to answer, that Keiko jumped off Kenji’s lap, screaming:”Daddy!!”. All the members turned to see Keiko clinging to Dazai’s leg. Kunikida’s lenses audibly cracked, some of them felt the urge to sit and Yosano had to assist a couple of faintings. Some seconds passed in the utter silence as they tried to metabolize the shock, then they started to assault you and Dazai with questions.      

 The sight of Dazai lifting up his daughter was a sight to behold and eventually they accepted the fact that Dazai is a father. the image of Dazai giving a esquimo kiss to his daughter, holding her in his arms, has me melting on the floor. “How old is she?” Naomi asked and you answered:”She’s four years old”. She thought about it for some seconds:”But if she’s four that means that you and Dazai met when he worked with the Port Mafia, isn’t it?” and luckily Yosano was quick:”There are some things that are private in a couple. Now let’s work that we already lost enough time”. She saved you before the questions became too personal.

 Dazai and Kunikida left the office for a mission and you went in the lab with Yosano, telling Keiko to don’t come in, since the room was full of lethal weapons. Feeling abandoned, she cried as loudly as she could, thinking that you’d rushed over she used the same technique at home when you are with your boyfriend. It worked every time. But you didn’t. Rampo decided to take care of her: he shared his candies with her and he asked her to help him to resolve his cases. Keiko quite enjoyed staying with him.

 After a couple of hours, when Dazai came back to the office, all of your colleagues kicked you three out, begging you to take a stroll with your child. Above all the experience was traumatic and the shock too huge for them, but what surprised them was that even someone like Dazai could have a family and be a good father. It’s murmured that that day, when Kunikida went at home, he declared:”After four years of being Dazai’s partner, I asked to the Grim Reaper to take me, but he said “no, you have to suffer a bit more” and he placed Dazai’s daughter on my path”.

You also wondered how Chuuya would react to a mini Dazai? you sadists. You, Keiko and Osamu were in a luna park to spend some quality time together as a family. Both yours and Dazai’s guard was very high, considering your past works, especially when Keiko was with you. Recently, you heard news about a child kidnapper, so you were even more anxious, but Osamu reassured you: nobody was so stupid to kidnap the daughter of an ex Port Mafia director and of an ex agent. Right? No

All happened in a second. The park was really crowded and in a second you were holding Keiko’s hand and in the next one she was no longer by your side. Surprisingly, Dazai was the most scared one: he told you before that the reason he stopped to think about suicide was Keiko, so he was really attached to his daugher (more than a normal parent). But the moment of fright and bewilderment was really brief and in the next second, both you and Dazai analyzed the situation with utmost rationality. You watched in Dazai’s eyes and you shivered: they were ruthless, without a shred of magnanimity, just like whe he woked under Mori's command

But the kidnapper was doubly unlucky: he kidnapped not only Keiko, but also Elise-chan. When Mori knew that she was kidnapped, he sent Chuuya to retrieve her. His orders were: make sure that guy regretted turning against the Mafia (you know, usual Mori stuff).

He found the kidnapper hideout and he killed him without any problems, but the troubles for him had just started. As soon as the man was dead, ten kids or more ran away from that place (Chu Chu instructed them to go to the nearest police station), but a brunette kid stayed there.

Keiko, to put it simply, fell in love with him as soon as she saw him using his ability. Osamu didn’t mention at all he was a mafioso (he wanted to show to her daughter only his best sides), but he talked about his ex partner. She clinged to Chuuya’s leg with adoranting eyes. Chu Chu was a bit creeped out: why was that child not scared? She was kidnapped, for the God’s sake

Chuuya tried to push her off, but he miserably failed. He gazed more carefully at Keiko and with dread, he admitted that she somehow reminded him of his ex partner, but that was only a coincidence, right? Elise asked her:”Why weren’t you scared?” and Keiko answered:”Because I know that mommy and daddy will come soon”. Then she looked at Chuuya, trying to remember how her father called him and she said:”Chibi-chan?”.

And the cruelty of reality hit Chuuya like a thunder: not only that wasting bandage garbage was still alive, but he also reproduced! He wanted to die, no, better: he wanted to kill Dazai once for all. But the final stroke arrived with the next question:”Do you want to marry me? Daddy told me to ask this question to a very special person”. Being proposed by Dazai’s daughter… in what other wicked ways his ex partner did try to send him to the Creator?! That was even more successful that putting a bomb in his car

Luckily, you and your boyfriend arrived at that moment. At the sight of his daughter clinging to the person he hated the most, Dazai almost had a stroke (to Chuuya’s happiness). As soon as Keiko saw you two, she runned in your direction (Chuuya was two times happier).

“You bastard, what did you say to her abou-” he started to yell at Dazai’s direction, but you interrupted him:”Thank you Chuuya for saving our daughter”. And you hardly hit Dazai's stomach with your elbow, so that he thanked Chuuya too.

In Chuuya’s mind something activated and he came to the general comprehension of what happened four years ago and why you met him some time later; but he didn’t say anything about it. He changed the topic:”You are the only woman in the world that can handle him, so be sure to be by his side”. That sounded almost like a blessing, but you didn’t dare to say it. “It’s what I intend to do”.

And walked in different directions, then Keiko yelled:”The next time we see again, tell me your answer” and you were almost sure to hear Chuuya trip to the ground. “What question have you asked?” you wondered half curious and half amused and she smiled dreamly:”If he wanted to marry me”. This time was Dazai’s turn to stumble on his steps. You laughed so hard that you stomach hurt, but you couldn’t stop, Osamu glared at you with a look of betrayal.

For the whole walk to your home, Dazai kept telling her how Chuuya was a bad person, but Keiko retorted that someone as beautiful as Chuuya couldn’t be a bad person. For a second Dazai glared at her with a sad smile, wondering if she would have told the same thing after he confessed to her all of his crimes. Knowing his thoughts, you tightened the grip of your hand on his, smiling:”For Keiko, you are the best person in the world, no matter what you did in the past”, then you added with a cheeky smile:”even better than Chuuya, I bet”.

 After tucking Keiko in her bed, you and your boyfriend retired in your bedroom. Dazai whined:”My daughter, my sweet, beloved and innocent daughter… How could she propose to another man? Especially him. She broke my heart: until yesterday she wanted to marry me. What did that slug do to her?”. You chuckled:”Are you sure it’s his fault? When we arrived it seemed like Chuuya was shocked too. I admit too that he’s beautiful”.

 At those words, Dazai’s body froze, but you didn’t notice it, too focused on changing yourself for the night. “You and him seem to be well acquainted” his voice was somehow restrained and it was just your impression, or Dazai was jealous? “Not really. When you were in the Port Mafia we met only twice, but after my escape, he saved me. I had a high fever, no place to stay and I didn’t eat in the last days. I was probably on the verge of death. He took me in his home and he helped me to get better”.

 In your stream of words, you didn’t notice that Dazai’s mood changed. In the Port Mafia he was possessive and he get jealous really often, but at least he vocalized it in his words or by action; but this Dazai was different: since once you got together, he never showed any sign of uneasiness, probably because now he knew that there was no possibility that you could fall for someone else. But Chuuya was the exception and knowing that he was by your side when you rejected his help, fueled his insecurity. And in the next second, you were under him, his hands already on your pajamas.

Notes: if you are curious about certain aspects in this AU, you can always ask me

 You lost your occasion to say:”Nothing that you imagine happened, really”, because his lips were already on yours, kissing you until you didn’t have any more oxygen in the lungs. That night, Osamu kept asking who you loved not really for reminding you but for himself. He made love to you all night along, coaxing an orgasm after another one from your body, hungry for your love. You were quite sure that the both of you have been quite vocal and you hoped to don’t wake up Keiko. After he washed you, you took his face in your hands, saying only two words, a single question, Osamu gazed surprised at you for a while, then he smiled, answering your question with three letters: yes.

[zu-is-here]

Hi Zu!

How would you describe your handwriting? Do you like it? Do you write by hand often? What do you think about calligraphy?

I believe I've never heard of this poet, but you have an incredible taste, that's a fact, so I'm definitely going to do some reading now ✨ And I read Words before writing the response to you, and this poem is good indeed, just as expected from something you recommended (: The meaning is deep and important, and I like the choice of words and the rhythm it creates. And, obviously, I do like poetry as well, although I don't read it as often as I'd like. I'm just very serious when it comes to poems, so I need all the focus on that. Which is difficult, especially when I'm not quite alright... I read modern poets a bit more often though. Every now and then something comes up on my dash in vk, and sometimes I can't help but take a look. So, um, I apparently don't really have favourites, since there's a lot more for me to read and learn. Perhaps one day I'll have an answer. And, well, yeah, I did try writing poems, still do actually... Some of the words just come to me in the form of poem and not prose. People seem to like it as well, I even performed a few times... That was an experience for sure (x

Oh, you have no idea. I was forbidden to do many things, going farther than a street away from home is one of them. And we lived in a house, not flat, so streets are very close to each other, and traffic isn't that busy there, etcetera. My family's been unreasonable since forever. That's just how it is.

Well, I like to think it is a special kind of magic — holding a conversation with the universe itself, with both outer world and inner world, my own and the person's for whom I'm reading the cards ✨ To be honest, when you said you don't believe in supernatural, it made me a bit hesitant about mentioning this whole thing at all, but now I'm glad I shared this. It's nice to talk about it and being heard even despite our different views. By the way, if you'd ever like to get an advice like that, my cards and I are always there.

Oh. Wow. Sounds absolutely amazing, and your enthusiasm is simply contagious! No way this topic is dangerous, I love listening to people gushing about things they like, even if I don't share their interest, it's the best anyway ✨✨✨ And I'm so glad to know you have the opportunity to indulge yourself like that, it's just awesome. Do keep bringing yourself joy! Also I'm glad to provide an opportunity to talk about it, again, you clearly enjoyed yourself, and that's exactly what I wanted (: As for me, I'm not as much of a fan as you are, but I do like tea and coffee. Though I mostly use tea bags, and there is much more milk and sugar and sometimes syrup in my coffee than, well, coffee itself (x

Yay! 'Re-watching and appreciating Major Grom the masterpiece even more' squad! Now I'm even more excited, even though we'll go separately, in different dates and places. Still!

Your excitement really means a lot to me, it's... soothing in a way. Somehow makes me feel less afraid to mess up. Strange, but true.

Okay, now I'm happy (albeit quite embarrassed) that you're happy, it's a loop! The class was good, but the more progress I make, the more obvious it gets that we need more time, ahem. But that we can't afford, unfortunately, and I can't help stressing over it, especially since it's very likely that I won't get into the course with Chinese in university. Hope I'll be able to make it work after all, even if right now I have no idea how.

Let me tell you that I'm so grateful and glad you didn't resist the urge to draw! That crossover art is absolutely lovely, and the idea is cool! It's so in-character, and oh, the expressions... I do love the whole of it 💗

However, I also hope you did get enough sleep, and no nightmares interrupted your rest 🌻

Take care!

Hi anfie╰(*´︶`*)╯

Tbh I have several handwritings depending on the speed and angle of writing (thanks to my lecturers XD) despite the fact I write by hand quite infrequently *click click* Though my main one is like... a piano passage? Pretty fast, continuous, downhill ♪ What's yours like? *^*

By the way, it's just a theory and I may be completely wrong, but are you left-handed?

As for the poetry, that's the right approach! And it's really nice to have such variety for reading *^* Modern ones, you say? I was once at a modern poety evening, and it left me speechless... not in the good way, not gonna lie. The poems were full of feelings yet in profanity, and it didn't sound like a soul's cry but like a cry literally. Sure not all the poetry nowadays is like that, I believe, but I was kinda disappointed for the untapped possibilities of our beautiful, rich language. Though I in no way condemn them, for they have the full right. Luckily, the evening ended on a pleasant note when a woman came out from the audience and read her poem as a counterweight. It was no less lively and expressive yet very reverent and careful to every single word, every sound and pause... that was the poetry ˚✧₊⁎

You did perform with your poems?? \(//∇//)\ Isn't is magnificent! How was it? I'm sure you left the audience impressed ☆ Could you maybe share a bit with me, if you'd like to? It not, it's alright! Live performance is a special pleasure, after all <3

Ohhh I feel you (ó3ò) The more rules and limits, the more sweeter freedom, the sharper the boundaries of personal space... Guess your parents were just really worried about you and didn't want you to get into trouble (ówò)

May no one stop you from expressing yourself╰(*´︶`*)╯There's nothing wrong about having your own different opinion! As I said, there are many different ways for trying to explain supernatural, and they all matter. That's why it's called supernatural, cause we can't explain it, but it doesn't mean this doesn't exist or work or that we are completely wrong. After all, we're all different but we still respect each other and accept ourselves and others <3 Wow– can I get an advice even from a distance? (°▽°) I don't have any questions to ask now tbh, say, what can / can't be known with the cards? *^*

And thank you so much for listening to me ♡ You're a wonderful interlocutor, and I'm always pleased with your attention and responsiveness (〃ω〃) Oh, I can’t speak for coffee since I don’t drink it but many tea bags deserve more sugar and milk for sure XD

Yay the squad! (๑˃̵ᴗ˂̵)☆ We can share our new impressions and opinions with each other next time <3

Oh don't be afraid to mess up, that's what can make your work special <3 I mean, it doesn't have to be perfect. You're doing great already! (*'▽'*) And don't even worry about the future, everything will happen in the best way ☆ Just live the moment!

Again, thank you a lot for your support (ㅅ´ ˘ `)♡ I'm really happy to see others getting interested in the originals and sources or recognize the references (that's even better)! That's what makes me happy (๑>◡<๑)

I did <3 Though there's a long night of Easter preparations ahead... ☆ How was your day today? I'm looking forward to hearing from you!

Take care *hugs* ♡

[antihero-writings]

The Boy with the Unspeakable Name (Ch9)

Fandom: Harry Potter (and the Chamber or Secrets)

Fic Summary: Tom Riddle may have won his battle with Harry in the Chamber of Secrets, but there were a few unforeseen consequences; loss of Tom’s memory being the most obnoxious of them. Is it possible to stop Tom’s past from becoming his future? Or is the young Tom Riddle doomed to repeat his mistakes?

Notes: Hey! So sorry for the delay, once again!! 

I've learned I really can't make any promises based on how fast I'll get these out XD But I have actually already started on the next chapter--in fact it's one I've been excited about for a long time, so I started on it a while ago--so that's a good sign at least, haha.

I'm very VERY excited to share this one with you!! I hope you guys enjoy it as much as I do!! 

I hope you guys like it!! As always, it's your comments, and interest, that keep me writing!! <3

@toms-wife Okay if I tag you??

If anyone else wants to be tagged on future chapters don’t hesitate to let me know!!

Chapter 9: On the Topic of Souls, and Other Such Oddities 

Snape marched towards the Headmaster’s office, his cloak swishing about his heels. It was the next morning after everything had happed, and he couldn’t say the little sleep he got left him feeling refreshed. Numerous meetings, and even more numerous questions have a way of making one altogether restless.

And, in the end…an innocent girl was dead. It isn’t easy to sleep after such news, even barring the politics of it all.

When he entered he got the feeling that Dumbledore had just been speaking with the portraits, as words trailed off, and Dumbledore, standing in the middle of the room, turned to him like he had been about to make a very good point. The portraits too looked down at him in—if he wasn’t mistaken—an annoyed way.

“Ah, Severus. Welcome. We were merely discussing if lemon drops or chocolate frogs are better. Theodore moved that chocolate frogs are more pleasingly sweet, but I think the best sweets have a bit of tang to them. Would you like to weigh in?”

Snape raised an eyebrow. The glare the portrait gave showed there was more than a small chance the matter they were discussing was something weightier than that.

When Snape didn’t comment, Dumbledore moved on;

“Please, take a seat.” He gestured to the chair in front of the desk. Snape reluctantly swept around and sat in it.

Dumbledore walked over to a side table with a strange contraption on it, which quickly revealed itself to be a sort of odd teapot, as he proceeded to pour the steaming liquid within it into a teacup. He retained his calm, pleasant demeanor, but Snape could tell the previous day weighed on him too: there was a slight shake to his motions, and his eyes held a heaviness that his smile couldn’t mask.

“Sir…would it not be better to do this another time?”

Dumbledore gave a knowing smile. “You’re not suggesting that I am getting old, are you?”

“No, merely that such news takes a toll on all of us.”

“Many things take a toll, Severus.” He gestured to the tea to ask if he wanted a cup, Snape gave a small nod. “It is if we decide to let that toll keep us from crossing the bridge that matters.”

The headmaster brought the two cups over and he took his place on the opposite side of the desk.

Snape paused before speaking. “I assume you have brought me here to discuss the sentence of the boy with the unspeakable name.” He took a sip of tea.

“You know what they say about assuming, Severus.” He lowered his glasses. “But in this case you are correct. And it’s not so unspeakable, in fact, I encourage you to call him by it.”

Snape resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

“Before I endeavor to divulge my carefully-laid plans,” Dumbledore spoke, putting a handful of sugar into his tea. “I would like to hear your thoughts on the matter: what do you think we ought to do with the young Tom Riddle?”

“Permission to speak freely, sir?”

“It’s the only kind of speaking I endorse.”

“I think we should dispose of him as soon as possible. He’s too dangerous, too clever. It’s inevitable that he’ll get his memory back even if we attempt to do everything in our power to shield him from it—perhaps before we so much as try.”

“That’s what I’ve been saying!” One of the portraits burst out and a few others nodded in agreement.

“Keeping him alive is like keeping a ticking time bomb as a pet,” Snape continued, “thinking a little love is enough to keep it from exploding. He’s nothing more than a liability.”

Snape’s dark eyes flicked to Dumbledore, who had been listening pleasantly, with his hands folded on the desk.

“But…”—Snape drew the kind of long breath one takes when they know they’ve lost the fight before it starts, and exhaled—“something tells me you disagree.”

Dumbledore smiled. “It seems you know me too well.”

“Sir…need I remind you of your meeting with him as a child? You once told me you wished you’d been more careful, more cautious, more discerning when dealing with him in the past.”

“Thank you, but my memory has not proven faulty just yet.”

“If that’s true then I also don’t need to remind you of the things I’ve seen him do first hand. Actions that do not make me partial to the idea of keeping him alive.”

“Quite the contrary, it is for that exact reason that I am trusting with this situation.” He paused, looking at him over his half moon spectacles and saying meaningfully. “You and no one else.”

“‘Trusting me with this situation’?” He drummed his fingers on the armrest.

“Is that not what you would call telling you all this?”

Snape said nothing, taking another sip of tea. That was true too, he was sure, though this was one of those moments in which he could tell Dumbledore meant something more than just that.

Dumbledore stood, walking over to the window as if he had all the time in the world, and he wanted to enjoy some sunlight.

“That boy is not Voldemort,” he murmured, taking a sip of tea.

Snape raised an eyebrow. “Respectfully, Sir, I beg to disagree.”

“That boy is merely a young Tom Riddle: a teenager who looks like who Voldemort once was when he was young, and who has some of the personality of Tom riddle, and who, if given the right parameters, could become Voldemort. But he is not Voldemort now.”

“All he needs to become the Dark Lord again is to get his memory back, something which I do not think will prove altogether difficult.”

“Perhaps. But there is something else. After giving it careful consideration I find that my theory is sound.”

“What theory would this be?”

He paused, gathering his words. “It is my understanding that a door, once opened, can be walked through in either direction.”

Snape remained silent, waiting for him to tie the statement to their situation.

“What if I told you that our dear Ginny Weasley may not be dead?”

“I would say that is something we’d all like to hear, but that it would be wiser not to put your faith into fairy tales.”

“As I expected.” He turned, smiling. “However,” he began taking careful steps towards Snape, looking at his feet, “it is my personal inclination that the method by which he returned to the land of the living had a fatal flaw.”

“Which is?”

He looked up at him and stopped, saying meaningfully, “It required a young girl’s life.

“You see,” Dumbledore continued, “he will have assumed, of course, that her soul was destroyed in the process of bringing him back to life—her life merely energy to use up. But what if, as it were, he assumed wrongly? In my experience, human souls are far more resilient than that. What if, much like she poured herself into the diary, her soul was simply”—He took an extra teacup off the table—“poured into a new vessel:”—he poured the tea from his cup into the empty one—“The form of Tom Riddle himself.”

Pondering this for a moment, Snape looked away. As he did, Dumbledore returned to his seat once more.

Snape wanted to dismiss the theory right away, and intended to. However, the more Dumbledore explained it, and the more he thought about it…it wasn’t baseless. However—

“You are assuming a rather large amount with little to go on. We can’t base our decisions on a theory, especially one so far-fetched as the idea that the simple method of revival was enough for the soul of a young girl to persist.”

Far-fetched, perhaps…but then he thought of what he saw when he read the boy’s mind yesterday. The wall in his head. How there seemed to be something trapped behind it. Something alive.

“No, but we can let theories inform our decisions. If there is that chance, do you not think it worth exploring?”

“Are you proposing we let the young Dark Lord live on the very small chance we can salvage her soul from the brink? Or else that her presence within his soul will cause him to …what? Grow a heart? Forgive me but that sounds like a hopeless endeavor. Lamentable as the situation may be, we can’t sacrifice all of wizardkind for the soul of one little girl.”

Dumbledore sighed, and there was a heaviness to it. “No. I am afraid that it is unlikely the poor Ginny would be able to return to her original state. I am unsure if her soul is even fully intact. Or, further still, she may not be entirely aware of her current predicament herself either. When speaking of souls, it’s difficult to discern where consciousness resides. It would be unwise, however, to dismiss any of these options entirely either. Rather I am proposing that the presence of her soul is a variable with unprecedented possible outcomes.”

“This is the Dark Lord we’re talking about. I don’t think one little girl’s presence—be it within his soul itself—is going to make much difference.”

Dumbledore smiled. “You of all people should know it is unwise underestimate the influence of one little girl.”

Snape’s eyes widened, unable to keep himself from reacting to that. He turned his head away.

“The Dark Lord is incapable of love, of human emotion,” Snape muttered softly.

“Perhaps. However, personally I like to refrain from making such bold statements about even the cruelest of men. But, even so, it is for precise reasons such as those why I believe the simple presence of someone who is capable of love, of human emotion, within his soul, could make all the difference. As long as there is more holy water than plain, the whole vat becomes holy.”

Snape sighed, looking away. “It is a gargantuan risk for something that is nothing more than an educated hypothesis. What if you’re wrong?”

“Then I will face the consequences.”

“Then we all will face the consequences. Those consequences could easily be the destruction of all of either wizard or muggle-kind—or both. What would you do then?”

Dumbledore sighed. “You seem to be rather caught up in that.”

“I’m more surprised to find that you’re not. Unless there is some way to guarantee he won’t repeat his past sins, then I cannot entertain the thought of keeping him alive.”

“I think we may be able to work something out.”

Snape’s eyes narrowed. “This isn’t some misguided journey to erase your past sins, is it?”

“No.” Dumbledore smiled pleasantly. “It’s a misguided journey to try to erase his.”

“Think for a moment! If you are wrong, is there any reason you have to keep the Dark Lord alive, if not for the thought that perhaps Ginny Weasley yet lives within his soul? Any at all?”

“Oh yes, several in fact.”

Another eyebrow raise.

Dumbledore leaned forward on his desk. “I think you are underestimating the gravity of the opportunity we have been given. An opportunity which I do not believe will present itself again. We have been handed a young Tom Riddle—without memory, no less. Tom Riddle, who has yet to commit the crimes of his previous self.”

“Tom Riddle, who already exhibited little to no regard for others’ well-being! He felt no compassion upon seeing a corpse!” Anger reached his voice, he was very close to slamming his fist on the table.

“Yet he has hurt no one.”

“He’s only been around for a day.”

“A day which Voldemort could have easily spent hurting and killing as many people as he wished.”

Snape looked away. “One amnesic day does not determine the capacity of a life.”

“No, you are correct about that. But…try to imagine for a moment. Do you understand what kind of asset it would be if we were able to get a young Tom Riddle to come over to our side? If we could save him from becoming who he once was…it could save us all.”

“You’ve made this mistake before.”

“I’ve made this decision before. My mistake was in the fact that I did not realize just how much evil such a young boy was capable of. I know now what that boy could become—and already has once—and that it will take much more than a watchful eye to save him from the darkness lurking in his own heart.”

“Do you realize just how easy it would be for him to fall back into that darkness?”

“Which is why I want to keep him alive. To try to prevent him from making the mistakes of his past self. The key difference here, is that there is a chance he has light in him now, in the form of Ginny. If that’s true, we need only water that seed.”

“You don’t know that there’s light in him!” Snape stood abruptly sweeping around resting his hands the back of his chair.” At best that’s an informed hunch! Are you really willing to base such an important decision on that?! The only way to guarantee he won’t make the mistakes of his past self is to prevent him from making any decisions at all!

“Where’s the fun in that?”

Snape blinked. “Is that all this is to you? A bit of fun?” He spat.

“Of course not.” His smile dropped at last, along with his eyes to the desk. “A young girl’s life has been lost. I’d prefer not to lose another.”

“Even if that other life is the life of the Dark Lord?”

“It is not the life of the Dark Lord.” He traced his finger along the rim of his teacup. “It is the life of the young Tom Riddle, who is entirely unaware of the crimes of his previous self—or anything much at all. He has shown no immediate inclinations to harm others, even if he is a bit insensitive. Forgive me, but I do not think it right to simply dispose of him.

“There is another thought that gives me unease as well.” Dumbledore seemed unsure he wanted to say it aloud. He folded his hands and looked at down. “If it turns out that my theory is correct, and Ginny isn’t dead after all…if we decide to dispose of him now, we, and not he, will be the ones who killed her.” The words were altogether too soft.

Snape ran his hand through his hair. “So what do you propose we do with him? Keeping the young Dark Lord alive, and a secret, will be much more difficult than simply killing him.”

“Oh I’m not denying that. If all goes according to plan, there are a number of portraits and other such lingering spirits we will have to inform of the situation.” He eyed the portraits, which folded their arms, harrumphed and looked away.

“And you’re actually proposing that we teach him magic? To the point where, when he does remember who he is, he’ll have the means at his disposal to destroy us all?”

“If we don’t teach him magic, if and when he regains his memory, do you not think he would seek out those means on his own anyways? At least this way we’re teaching him in a controlled environment, where we know where he is, and how much he knows at any given time—not to mention we can decide how much caution to exercise in the smaller details of the situation.”

“Even so…we can’t place a sixteen-year old who knows nothing of magic in first year classes.”

“Nor am I proposing that we do so. I intend to have someone teach—or remind, rather; I think he will be quick to pick it back up—of the basics over the summer. It may not be an easy task to get permission from the ministry to allow a boy under seventeen to do magic over the summer, but I think I may be able to come up with something. Either that, or we may be able to hope they assume the one doing the magic is the wizard who already lives in the house.”

“You’ve told me he has a penchant for flattery that caused many teachers to let their guard down around him. I don’t think I have to tell you why I don’t think it wise to have just any wizard teach the young Dark Lord.”

“I fear you underestimate me, Severus. You really think I would choose just any wizard teach to him? In fact—if you’ll permit my saying—he’ll have a teacher who is rather stern, and won’t find himself so easily swayed by flattery.”

“And who is the lucky contestant?”

Dumbledore gave him a look strangely similar to the smirk of a mischievous schoolboy, running his fingers along his wand.

“I did tell you I was trusting you with the situation, did I not?”

Snape’s eyes widened. He took a step back as if he’d been physically hit.

“No.”

“You asked me if I was proposing that we teach him magic,” Dumbledore elaborated, “and, for the summer at least…Actually I’m proposing that you teach him magic.”

Snape rarely found himself struck dumb but in that moment he was at a loss for both words and actions. For a moment he wasn’t entirely convinced he hadn’t been placed under a powerful confundus charm.

“During the school year, of course, he’ll learn here.” Dumbledore continued. “That is, if aforementioned summer goes smoothly.”

Snape blinked, shook his head, as if trying to remove a wrackspurt. The only thing he could ask was:

“Why me?”

Dumbledore frowned. “I thought I’d made that rather obvious. Because—as you so well proved over the past few moments—no matter how kind, how flattering, how clever, he appears, you will always keep in mind who and what he is. And, if he shows any signs of becoming his past self—or future self, as it were—you will not hesitate to do what is necessary.”

“Is there a reason you can’t do this, Sir?”

“Oh, I’m an old sap, Severus. For all we know I might grow attached to the boy.”

“And you want me to…what?” He spat. “Invite him cordially to stay in my home,” He held out a hand and bowed, “feed him, coddle him, tell him what a good little boy he is,”—he clapped his hands—“all the while teaching him all sorts of dangerous spells?!”

“No. I will inform him of the situation. Then after that I am suggesting you take him to your house—you don’t have to be too terribly cheerful about it, merely as amicable as you are able—feed him, provide him a place to stay over the summer. I’m not suggesting you coddle him—though kindness is a virtue—rather give him both praise and criticism, and each in moderation. That you teach him the basics of magic, and the spells you think would be useful, but not terribly dangerous. I trust your judgment there wholeheartedly.”

Snape stared at a speck of dirt on the ground as if that could tether him to this moment, breath weighing heavy on his chest, his mind splintering into fractals of thoughts. How could Dumbledore possibly expect this of him?

“I feel like I’m forgetting something…” Dumbledore stroked his beard in thought. “Oh!” He held up a finger. “Yes. Harry will be staying with you as well.”

Snape jerked his head to look at him, and this time couldn’t hold back:

“WHAT?!”

“I’ll admit, it’s a bit—the poor boy has been through a lot, he won’t be fond of the idea—but I think it’s important that he and the young Tom Riddle become…Well let’s put it this way, I don’t think Harry giving him hateful glares in the hallways at school will help the situation. Currently both he and you seem to have more than enough of those to spare.”

“Oh yes, and forcing us all to live together will certainly solve that problem!”

“While it’s true that living with someone can indeed increase one’s distaste…I do find that living with someone forces you to build a bond of some sort with them, and sympathize with them, in ways you would never have otherwise.”

“You’re asking the three people in this school who have the greatest distaste for each other to spend three months in a confined space!” He spat. “Not only do I think the boy would likely kill one of us before the summer is over, I’d be surprised if we don’t all end up killing each other halfway through June!”

“Or…perhaps the three of you will come to a new understanding about each other.” Dumbledore was as calm as ever. Snape wanted to wipe that smug look of his face.

“I don’t see than happening any time soon.”

“You might be surprised.”

Snape leaned against a pillar, running his hand over his face. He knew from the beginning that he wasn’t going to win this argument, but this was more than a loss, it felt like a slap in the face.

“Don’t you understand?” Dumbledore resumed his previous argument. “Tom Riddle never had a single friend—even at this age his ‘friends’ were all merely supporters and worshippers. If he and the boy destined to destroy him—who will most certainly neither blindly worship nor support him—were to become something even remotely close to friends it could make all the difference. And I think Harry is the only one who can truly change him.”

“The Dark Lord doesn’t make friends. Even without memory I don’t believe he’ll have any inclinations to form attachments—especially not to someone like Potter. He himself said he feels hatred at the sound of Potter’s name.”

“Need I remind you once more this is not the Dark Lord we’re speaking of? Memoryless, and with the presence of Ginny inside him—who already has an affinity for Harry—I think there is at least some chance his opinions on Harry, as well as concepts such as friendship itself may change. He did mention that he hates the sound of Harry’s name, as well as mine, yes. However, when I asked him if it made him sad that he had no friends, for a brief second he said yes.”

“He corrected himself immediately afterwards.”

“In all my years teaching the boy, I never saw a single moment’s hesitation, especially on a question like that.”

Snape let out a breath.

“Doesn’t Potter need to stay with his aunt and uncle?” Snape rubbed his temple, feeling defeated, voice breathy, “His mother’s protection—”

“Oh he will stay with his aunt and uncle at first, still. However, I was discussing it with the portraits, and considering the strange situation, I find the rules may be a little different, don’t you?”

“Oh yes, have him live with the Dark Lord! That will keep him very safe!” Snape sighed, slumping in his chair once again, holding his head in his hand.

“It is not one of my safest ideas, I’ll admit. But you’ll be there, of course. And you haven’t given me reason to doubt that you’re up to the task of protecting him, should the need arise.”

“You expect too much of me. There is only so much I can do.”

“It is true you can only be so many places at once. But if I did not think you were capable of accomplishing such a task, I would not ask in the first place.”

“This is lunacy,” he breathed into his hand.

“I hope I haven’t fallen prey to madness just yet. But I will not rule out the possibility.”

Dumbledore paused, standing back up and walking around the desk. “I understand if you need more time to mull it over. I often find after jarring news a walk and a good bottle of mead do wonders.”

“I only have one guest room, Sir,” Snape muttered.

“Harry can sleep on the couch.” Dumbledore said pleasantly. “He’s very small, I’m sure you’ll barely notice him.”

Snape glared at him through his fingers. “…I think I’ll notice him.”

“You haven’t answered my most pressing concern. What’s to say the boy won’t get up and kill us both in our sleep?”

“…That doesn’t sound much like Harry at all.”

“The other one.”

“We will need to discuss what protections we should put in place, certainly. But you and I are both very smart, very skilled wizards. It would be disappointing if, putting our heads together, we are unable to come up with something.”

There was a long moment of silence. Snape put his hand in his hair, thinking of all the things that could go wrong, and had gone wrong before…or at least just how much annoyance such a living situation would provide, even if there was no real danger. No matter how much chaos may occur over the school years, his summers at least had always been quiet.

His next words were soft, but thick with emotion. “I don’t think it wise for him to live with me, Sir. I don’t think I could ever feel any kindness towards the man who killed her.”

“But,” Dumbledore’s voice was as gentle as a moth’s wing beat, no annoyance or exasperation in his tone at the fact that he had to keep repeating himself, “he is not the man that killed her. Not yet. And you have the unique chance of saving him from becoming that man.”

“Not a chance that could save her.”

“No, you’re right, that chance has long since passed. But you can save hundreds of other men and women just as kind as her.”

“No one is as kind as her.”

Dumbledore knelt down beside him, putting his hand on his arm, a certain twinkle in his eyes. “If you give it a chance…I think you may just find that Harry is.”

[galactic-magick]

Kiss Me: Logan x Reader

Request: Hmmm. So from the prompt list, maybe number 7 (“If you don’t kiss me right this second I swear I’ll strangle you”) with childhood best friends to lovers logan x reader? Thank you!

Summary: You have a summer party with the sides and come to terms with your feelings for Logan.

Words: 2100+                                        

Warnings: swears, some kissy kissy

Author’s Notes: I got a little carried away with this one XD This is probably the longest one shot I’ve ever written lol, hope y’all like it!

Taglist: @luluwinchester​ @nerve-ous-love​ @zarieslayer​ @amayaisokay​

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“Food’s ready everyone!” Patton calls, sliding the last burger onto the serving plate. He’s always been fantastic on the grill, and today he made pretty much everything he knows how. He made burgers, veggie burgers, hot dogs, kabobs, and everything in between.

It’s been a while since you’ve had a fun gathering with the sides, so when he suggested having a summer party in the backyard you all were ecstatic. You’ve all been friends for years, but sadly life gets in the way sometimes and you don’t get to hang out as much anymore.

As much as you’re happy to see everyone there, you can’t help but be extra excited to see Logan. He’s your best friend, and has been through thick and thin. He’s always the first to check in on you and help you out whenever you need it and you truly feel like you can be yourself around him. He lifts you up yet isn’t afraid to be honest with you. He balances you out perfectly.

“Hey guys!” you wave.

“Y/N! So glad you could make it!” Patton runs over and gives you a hug.

Virgil and Janus wave back and Roman and Remus greet you as well.

“Hello,” Logan nods with a smile.

You skip to him as your grin brightens, “Hello,”

“It’s very nice to see you,”

“Of course it is,” you laugh. “It’s nice to see you too. How’ve you been?”

“Very well. Everything appears to be working smoothly. You?”

“I’ve been alright,”

If you’re not mistaken, he’s gotten even more handsome since the last time you saw him. Is that possible?

Wait, what are you thinking?

No, no, it’s fine. It’s totally normal to find your friends attractive, right? You’re sure he’d say the same about you, and it wouldn’t be weird at all.

But damn does his smile make your heart flutter, and the way his slightly grown out bangs fall around his forehead gives you an irresistible urge to touch it. As you grab your food together his hand brushes against yours just for a moment, but it sends shivers down your spine for several more. He makes you laugh whether or not he’s trying to and fascinates you with his extensive knowledge on various topics. He makes you happier than anyone on the planet.

But of course none of that really means anything, right? Never mind the fact that since seeing him today you haven’t been able to get the thought of kissing him out of your head, how badly you want to just whisk him away to the side of the house, grab his shirt and make out with him ‘til you can’t breathe.

Alright, maybe that’s not normal.

It’s not like it would ever happen anyway, you’re sure he sees you as just a friend and you’re honestly fine with that. You’d never want to lose your best friend simply because you caught feelings.

As everyone finishes up their meal, you notice Remus running to the porch and shuffling around in a trash bag.

You turn to Logan, “What’s he doing?”

“I’ve found it’s best not to wonder,” he rolls his eyes. “It’s probably nothing of importance…NO WAIT WATCH OUT!”

Before you know it, you’re completely soaked head to toe and swivel around to see Remus pointing a huge water gun directly at you.

“WATER FIGHT!!” he screeches, pulling out more guns from the bag and tossing them to everyone.

Logan got a bit wet too, but not nearly as much as you, “Oh, Y/N, I’m so sorry, allow me to grab you some towels-“

“No, no, it’s fine, it’s just water,” you glare at Remus. “Hopefully,”

“Neither the color or smell indicate that it’s not,”

You chuckle, grabbing a squirter from the ground, “Come on, help me get back at him,”

“I really shouldn’t, I would prefer to stay as dry as possible,”

“Come on,” you grab his hand and pull him up. “Please?”

He stares at you helplessly, searching for an excuse but unable to resist, “Alright,”

You smile, grabbing him another gun and racing across the yard.

Patton starts filling up some water balloons while Roman flings them around, no one can tell whose side he’s on because he’s barely hitting anything. Janus is taking advantage of his extra arms by having a super soaker in each and aiming at literally everyone. Virgil has teamed up with you and Logan and focuses everything he’s got on Remus.

“Roman I must say, your aim is absolutely preposterous,” Logan comments.

“Oh, would you like to try it? I highly doubt you could do any better,”

“Actually, yes,” he grins, taking a water balloon and throwing it directly at Remus’s face.

Everyone’s mouth falls open.

“Where’d you learn how to do that?” Roman gasps, completely baffled.

“It’s not too difficult, just a few physics calculations and some practice,”

“Can you show me?” you ask, taking another balloon and squinting your eye towards Remus.

“Of course,” he places his hands on your shoulders and straightens out your stance. You desperately hope he doesn’t notice you stiffening and holding your breath from his touch. “The key is to have your arm in line with your eyesight. Even when you pull it back, if you’re not focused the follow through won’t work,”

You nod, gulping a bit and trying not to shake.

“Okay, now try it. It’s alright if you don’t hit him immediately,” his palm stays on your back as you throw it, hitting Remus’s leg.

“I hit him!” you squeal.

“Wonderful! Now we just have to work on aiming a bit higher-“ he steps in front of you as Remus darts a balloon back in your direction. His shirt gets drenched and Remus cackles.

“Oh no, Logan-“

His expression isn’t angry surprisingly. Instead, there’s a fire in his eyes that you’ve never seen before, the face of someone genuinely having fun.

He smirks at you, the way he always does when the gears are turning in his brain.

“Patton, can I see that?” he points towards the hose he’s been using to fill the balloons. Patton nods and Logan gets to work, using all your water guns to build a big canon and positioning it towards Remus. He turns it up to the highest pressure possible and blasts him.

It doesn’t hurt him of course, and even if it did he probably wouldn’t care. He merely falls back laughing, rolling around on the ground and covering himself with dirt and grass.

“Wow,” you sigh, eyes wide.

“You did ask me to help you get back at him, did you not?”

“I most certainly did,”

“Well,” he sets everything down. “I hope I delivered,”

“You did…” your gaze is locked on him. Who knew such a silly water war could make you so much more in love with him, especially with the way his wet shirt clings to him and the droplets on his glasses-

“Are you quite alright?” Logan inquires, concerned.

“Mhmmm,”

“Who wants to make some s’mores?” Patton calls, snatching some firewood. Everyone agrees so he gets it started, wanting to give it time to turn into hot coals. He grabs some crackers, chocolate, and marshmallows from inside and some sticks.

Logan gets towels for everyone and tenderly wraps one around your shoulders. The dampness is still cold, but the sweet gesture warms you up a bit.

Would it be crazy if you told him how you’ve been feeling tonight? Would it be completely irresponsible to flirt with him a bit? It feels wrong, but it feels more right than wrong. You just know he’s the one you’re meant to be with. You can’t imagine yourself with anyone else. He’s your best friend after all, and you’re sure any future partner you could ever have would be threatened by how close you are anyway. If you simply dated each other that wouldn’t be a problem.

But you’re terrified. You can feel your heart pulsing through your fingertips as you hold the marshmallow over the coals. The hot flames make your face burn and you can’t tell the difference between your sweat and the water covering you from earlier. You grow quiet, and Logan notices.

“Is there something wrong?”

Thankfully the other sides are engaged in their own conversation, so they don’t put any attention on you.

“I’m fine, just a bit tired,” you say, pulling your marshmallow away and squishing it between your graham crackers and chocolate.

“Did I mention that you look exquisite today?”

You almost choke on your sandwich, “What?”

“And I assure you our little water detour didn’t change that,”

“Oh, um,” you wipe your mouth with a napkin. “Thank you. You look really good too,”

“I hope that’s alright for me to say, please forgive me if I’ve crossed a line,”

“No!” you shake your head a bit too hard. “I mean, it’s fine. You can say that as much as you want, if that is what you want. Of course you don’t have to,”

Shit.

A smile tugs at his lips, as if he’s actually charmed by your bumbling, “Would you care to go inside? I believe Patton has quite a few card and board games if you’re interested,”

You nod. It’s getting a bit chilly outside anyway, and maybe being alone with him will settle your nerves a bit. Your newly discovered feelings for him aside, he’s always the one person who makes you most comfortable.

He grabs the checkers and sets it up on the table next to the couch, “You can go first,”

You move your first piece and the game begins. He doesn’t hold back of course, he’s not the type to let anyone win on purpose, but he doesn’t rub it in your face either. He makes you smile the entire time and you almost forget how anxious you were before.

That is, until the game finishes and it all comes rushing back. He won, and he looks absolutely adorable. Your stomach is in knots and you just want to look at him this satisfied forever.

“Hey, Logan?”

“Yes?”

“Do you ever wonder if we’d work well in a relationship? Like a romantic one?”

“I…” he considers it, his cheeks flushing a deep pink. “I can’t say I’ve never contemplated the idea. Why do you ask?”

“I was just wondering,” you shrug it off, assuming he’ll want to move on from the topic.

“I think we would,” he says confidently, yet still not able to meet your eyes. “If I’m being completely honest, which I assure you I am, I’ve thought about it many times,”

Your heart pounds in your chest.

“You’re wonderful, Y/N. I admire everything about you. You’re everything I want and value in both a friend and a partner, and I daresay even more. If you ever wanted to escalate our relationship to a deeper level, I would oblige immediately. I truly would,”

You don’t really know what to say. He just confessed his affections for you better than you ever could’ve, and quite frankly you don’t think you could top it. It feels like your heart is beating faster and slower at the same time, the relief of knowing and the panic of what happens next. Obviously he wants you to say yes, right?

But all you can think about is how much you want his lips on yours.

You meet his gaze, “If you don’t kiss me right this second I swear I’ll strangle you,”

“I’m sorry?”

“I love you. It took me a long time to realize, but I know it now. I love you,” you release all the nervous energy. “Now please just kiss me,”

“I…I love you too,” his eyes dart around your face and his grin lights up. It’s as if he can’t take you all in not matter how hard he tries. Nothing in the universe could ever compare to you or what he feels for you.

He kisses you gently at first, resting his hand on your neck. His lips taste like chocolate from the s’mores and they’re perfectly warm.

He pulls away, “Is this okay? Is this what you want?”

“Oh my gosh yes please don’t stop,” you pull him back to you, wrapping your arms around him and kissing him harder. He becomes more self-assured as you go, running his fingers through your hair and holding your waist to bring you closer.

He apologizes when his glasses hit you, but you don’t care. All you can focus on is the fact that his body is on yours and you’re finally kissing the love of your life.

After a while you fall back on the cushions breathless. Logan props himself up on his elbows and grasps your hands, holding them to his cheeks. You smile up at him, giggling a bit.

“I can’t believe we waited so long to do this,” he says, kissing your palm.

You smirk, “Well let’s not wait to do it again,”