#i am staring at a blank page bc i can’t use my hands to make what i see in my head

[ghosttotheparty]

not being to draw what i want to draw makes me angry in a way nothing else does

[bnhxx]

Time to actually start writing something about bungo stray dogs bc what even is my blogs title page for after all this time

And of course that means I'm talking about my favourite best girl Akiko Yosano

The steaming kettle rattled as it whined into the otherwise peaceful office. You absent-mindedly turned the heat off the stove as you brought the kettle over. Steam poured out of the spout as you gently poured the water into each cup, watching as the granules of coffee melted into the water and spiralled into the bitter instant coffee that seemed boundless at the agency. Your nose crinkled at the smell, yet your drooping eyes perked at the sight of the steaming black cup in front of you.

You can't say you ever liked coffee as much as your partner, but the tarte after-taste left fond memories of staying up late with her to finish up medical reports and laugh as she complained to you about the most boring part of any job. You'd take the coffee runs in turns at an attempt to give your brain more stimulation than the blank screen of a computer staring back at you, reports and articles and forms blending into the other. It wouldn't be so bad if all you had to do was the medical forms, but severe injuries came few and far between with Yosano's ability. 

While your ability was not as powerful as your partners it was certainly a lot more flexible. While Yosano was the last resort healer, most of the team preferred to go to you for most of their everyday cuts and broken bones. Being such a general healer took a lot out of you, so you had never really been out in the field; opting to save your energy for whoever came into the office first looking for your healing ability. 

While many were jealous of such a useful ability, you and Yosano knew it as a leech-draining your own energy at rapid paces if used too frequently. You were thankful that Yosano had been there to help step in whenever things got to be too much for you to handle. She had always looked out for you in such a nonchalant manner, many in the armed detective agency thought it nothing but partners watching out for one another. 

And it would be, except somewhere across the line the two of you had developed feelings for one another; blurring the lines between good friends and something more.

"Are you done in there, or am I gonna have to chase you out the break room?" A sharp voice breaks through your thoughts, and you whirl around to see an annoyed Yosano blocking the entrance way, her hands on her hips and a playful smirk on her face. You recover and toss her a weak scowl from over your shoulder, and grab the cups from the counter.

"Almost! It takes time to make coffee this bitter," She snorted, and took the steaming mug you held out for her to grab. The creases in her furrowed brow softened slightly as she took the mug from your hands. It was the smallest of graces, but to see her even slightly relax meant the world right now.

She brought the mug up to her mouth and took a sip, and her face twisted as she swallowed hard.

"What did you infuse this with, Kunikida's contempt for Dazai?" You giggled and brought the coffee to your lips.

"Something like that," you grinned over your mug as you gulped the caffeine down. It earned you a playful smile from Yosano. She hummed, and set her mug down next to you.

You could so easily deny there was anything special going on between you outside to your friends and coworkers. We're just friends-someone's gotta look out for you in the dog eat dog world of the agency. 

Yosano was just dragging you along, and you'd give any chance you could get to help her out. The lady was under copious amounts of stress, after all. And you'd be a bad assistant if you didn't help her out.

But when she was this close, when her body was so close to yours yet so out of reach, it was so much harder for you to deny you were down bad for your superior. 

It was extremely unprofessional. 

You wouldn't dare act on it. 

And yet...

The way she made you shiver as she gently brushed the back of your hand, the smallest, softest of smiles you'd only ever seen her give to you; you were holding yourself back from throwing yourself into her arms.

You knew this couldn’t go on forever. After all, your time here was about to end soon.

As the agency became more and more dangerous, you found yourself valuing your life more than the ends of your slap dash internship. Surviving this would give you a new start in life- one away from the life you’ve had, running from the demons of your families past.

As much as it would hurt to have to leave the agency, you were relieved in a way. You really had made some lifelong friends along the way, yes. But you were also lucky enough that your powers easily slotted themselves into the mundane world outside your own. Taking your circumstances, professional and personal for granted to chase your feelings for Yosano would be petty and selfish.

And yet, you had a feeling no matter how far you ran, your fate was tied to the rest of the agency. You could never quite shake the way the director made a pointed glare at your temporary placement...almost as if he wasn't convinced. Maybe... you didn’t have to leave forever?

“You’ll glare a hole into that wall if you stare any harder, y’know.” Yosano stated with a huff. But after everything that had been happening now...with Atsushi and the Port Mafia, you really shouldn’t stay with the detective agency. Trouble had a knack of finding you whenever you lingered in one place too long, after all... You shivered, and took a big sip of the burning coffee.

“Careful-” You could see the concern in Yosano’s eyes as your own widened, the sudden pain in your tongue screaming for you to spit the coffee back out. You swallowed it all down in one swift gulp, and winced as it burned all the way down your throat.

“Ack-!” 

“Ah, do you listen? Let me put some cold water in that coffee if your going to do something like that,” You offered a sheepish smile to Yosano’s chiding. 

“Sorry, I got lost in my thoughts for a moment,” Your supervisor merely raised an eyebrow, eyes focused on the trickle of cold water filling the cup.

“You’ve been doing that an awful lot recently. It’s the last week of your placement here. Is that why?” You almost choked on air this time. Gently clearing your throat, you simply nodded as she looked up to meet your silence. She sighed.

“I’ll admit...it is sad to see you go. My workload has been a hell of a lot less painful with you here to burden it too,” You shared a chuckle between yourselves as Yosano walked to your side of the bench and leaned in next to you, offering your cup for you to take. You stare at it for a moment, and she places the cup onto the counter with a huff.

“Yeah, I’m really...I’m gonna miss everyone here. Especially you,” God, you said that out loud didn’t you? Shit, Crap! 

Yosano was looking straight at you now, piercing gaze drilling into your core as the weight of the silence in the break room only grew. 

“Especially? What do you mean by that?” You balked at her question. W-What do you mean? That you really like her? Wanna date her, kiss her, let her have her sadistic ways with you?

“W-Well, I mean, we work together all the time, right? And I’m so grateful for everything that you’ve taught me,” That sounds professional enough, even if you stumbled a bit at the start. You should be in the clear! 

Unluckily for you, Yosano doesn’t seem quite as satisfied as you with that answer.

“That sounds like something you’d say to someone who is just a colleague,” You paused. Thank god you didn’t take another sip of your coffee or else you really would spit it out this time. 

Did Yosano know your feelings for her? Crap...she was too analytical for her own good. Before you could continue, Yosano leaned in, inches close to your face. You could feel her warm breath graze your lips as she whispered her next words just for you.

“Am I really just a colleague to you?” You decided to answer as bold as you could. Yosano was giving you the setting on a silver platter, after all. You’d be a fool to turn her down now. Though you’d tried to hide your office crush it clearly didn’t work as well as you’d hoped. 

So you kissed her. You closed the last few inches between you two and you kissed her lips. It was as gentle as the breeze from the window, and as bold as the taste of coffee lingering on your burnt tongue. As you pulled apart, you gave her a soft smile. 

“No, Yosano. You’re so much more,” She gave you a knowing smile, as if she’d been in on the secret this whole time.

“You know...you don’t live too far from my apartment. Remember that time when you brought that file back to mine? It wouldn’t be...too hard for us to meet again once your placement ends, no?” You blinked, twice. Does this mean...? 

“Are you asking me out on a date?” Yosano merely nodded and straightened herself up from the counter.

“How else am I going to keep you updated on these assholes while we shop? Oh, and you’re going to be making me these coffees on the double the moment you leave,” She sighed, rubbing her temples before offering you one of her small smiles. You take a sip from your coffee cup before speaking.

“I’m looking forward to it,”

[kerie-prince]

clumsy

Hermione Granger x fem Slytherin!reader (fluff)

requested: (@chokemepansy) im terrible at requesting because i blank on ideas BUT anything for hermione please <3 take your time ily 💓

warnings: a single curse word, but mainly just soft hours

summary: Hermione has her very first date with you at Hogsmeade (song inspo from Fergie's Clumsy) (pardon my lame ass summary)

a/n: ty for requesting, luv 🥺 hope you like it! i made the reader slytherin just bc of you <3 and yes, i put in an outfit inspo but it's not like the cringy ones from wattpad

(gif not mine, cred to owner)

You came to love the smell of parchment and books. The sound of pages being turned, the feeling of a new book in your hands. You loved them because it made you think of Hermione.

Merlin, you were infatuated with everything about her. The excitement in her voice when she talked about her favorite books, the small paper cuts on her fingers from turning the pages – she didn't mind them as it was normal for her – and the look on her face when she received praise from professors.

She was all you thought about and you wanted to go to the top of the Astronomy Tower and yell out "I LOVE HERMIONE JEAN GRANGER" for the whole school to hear. And you were positive she felt the same. Hermione would refuse to let go of your hands when you walked together from class and on some occasions, you'd catch her staring at you during study sessions. Just like she was doing now.

"Miss Granger, for the last time, I am asking you what are the contents of polyjuice potion?" Snape was hovered over her desk. Hermione jumped in her seat and turned to face the brooding professor. Your Slytherin housemates who sat at the back of class laughed at her startled state as she named the contents. You looked back and glared at them all. When Snape left your table and continued his lecture, you leaned closer to Hermione and whispered as low as you could, “Are you okay? You seem kind of distracted,” you noticed.

“Y-yes, I'm fine,” Hermione stuttered. Snape excused the class and Hermione waited for you to be done packing your things just so she could hold your hand to the Great Hall. “Are we still going to Hogsmeade on Saturday?” you asked.

“Harry’s got detention with McGonagall for ‘ accidentally’ turning Crabbe into a water goblet in class,” Hermione used her free hand to make air quotations, “and Ron’s busy with Lavender that day.” She had a sad look on her face, thinking that they wouldn't be able to go to Hogsmeade after all. You picked up on it and had an idea. “So, just the two of us then?”

Hermione’s chest became warm, “Okay. It's a date.” Your eyes slightly bulged out and to Hermione, you had an indistinguishable smile, “I mean, not like a date date, but a girls date.” You weren't sure if she meant it like that, but you laughed at her stumbling her words. The always composed girl becoming a cute, blubbering mess for you. Not that you knew for sure it was because for you but you’d given it a lot of thought.

She never held Harry’s hand like she did yours unless he was upset about something and she was comforting him. And she certainly never held Ron’s hand. Nor does she ever hug him knowing Lavender would go ballistic. Not that she’d ever want to. He was her best friend, yeah but she had never gotten used to it. They both had an unspoken thing to not hug.

“Sounds fun,” you chirped, “can’t wait for it.” You gave her a lingering hug before going to your table. You sat in between your best friends Pansy and Daphne. Pansy had a smirk on her lips once you were in her line of sight, “Did you finally tell Granger?” You knew what she was talking about and nudged her arm with your elbow, “Shut it.” The two girls chuckled and gave each other knowing looks. “I might tell her on Saturday,” you disclosed.

They had matching shocked faces; for nearly a year, they’ve watched you pace around their shared dorm debate with yourself whether or not to tell her about how you feel. You’d have a sparkle in your eyes every time you talked about her and nearly spent every day with her. They weren't upset about it. In fact, they couldn't wait to see you two together. But you were unexpectedly insecure by thinking of the worst case scenario in which she’d reject you.

“That’s great, Y/N/N. I’m so happy for you. I know everything will turn out well,” Daphne supported. Pansy nodded and pointed to Daphne as to say ‘Me too’. You grabbed the hands of both girls and held them tightly, “Thanks, girls. I love you guys.” You wrapped an arm around both of them and brought them in for a hug. Daphne returned it while Pansy made a fake coughing sound. “I can’t b-breathe,” she exaggerates. You held on for a couple seconds more before letting go and started eating. “Okay, so how is this happening?” Pansy asked.

“We’re going to Hogsmeade together on Saturday,” you inquired. “So the whole lot is going as well?” Pansy was talking about Harry and Ron of course.

“No, just the two of us alone,” you replied, taking a bite of the chicken on your plate.

“You mean, this is a date?” Daphne exclaimed. “We’re going to help pick an outfit, no questions asked.” She had a stern look that dared you to talk back. As sweet as Daphne is, once her mind is set to something, she doesn't budge. You accepted it and was met with her usual warm smile. Inside, you were ecstatic and couldn't wait for Saturday. Your crush has gone on for too long, and you were tired of waiting.

:｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆

Your dorm mates got you up at the crack of dawn. And by crack of dawn, it was actually 10 am at most. They made you change into every outfit they picked out which totaled in 8. You appreciated everything they were doing, but some of the outfits were too much for a day in Hogsmeade. Daphne picked out tennis skirts with cropped argyle sweaters. Pansy picked short dresses that stopped at your mid-thigh and black wool turtlenecks to go over them. They had completely different aesthetics which is what probably made them perfect friends.

You settled on something casual; a thick striped long sleeve polo with light blue jeans and white trainers. It was going to be a nice spring day and you didn't want to wear something that would be too short and you get cold later. Daphne did your hair in two French plaits and Pansy did your makeup modestly. Once you were done, it was noon and you rushed to meet Hermione for your ‘girl date’.

She took the air straight from your lungs. She looked more breathtaking than the night of the Yule Ball. You distinctly remember being incredibly jealous of Viktor Krum and beat yourself up for not asking her before he did. But now, if he was here, you were sure that the famous Quidditch athlete would be jealous of you.

Hermione’s usually wild hair was tamed into smooth wavy curls that framed her delicate face. She wore a floral print button up that was definitely new as you’ve never seen it before. Or did she save it just for you? Her navy jeans hugged her ankles and she donned light pink flats. And probably for the first time since the Yule Ball, she had mascara and lipgloss on. Casual, but perfect.

Your face was flushed, and you weren't sure if she was also blushing or if maybe she was just wearing blush. “Shall we?” You reached out to grab her hands – her soft hands – and waited for her response. She didn't say anything when she laced her fingers with yours and started walking on the path to Hogsmeade. Hermione was about to say that you looked pretty when she tripped over a small rock on the pathway. “Are you okay?” you expressed concern. She was still holding onto your hand as she steadied herself up, “Yeah, I’m fine.”

:｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆

You snorted and had to hold the butterbeer in your mouth, “Ron did what?” Hermione laughed as she told you how Lavender exploded on Ron for forgetting their anniversary and when he tried to make it up by giving her chocolates that he got from his older brothers, Lavender instantly grew a huge chin that drooped over her neck. Ron had gotten so mad at them and in unison, they told him ‘Why’d you think we’d ever give you real ones?’

“So that’s why no one has seen her for a couple days!” you noted. She was nodding as she laughed. You could only imagine what it was like to see it in person. Poor Lav. You went back and forth talking about whatever went on since the last time you were together.

Hermione went on talking about a new book she read about over the winter holiday. The way she expressed her emotions and passion for it made you fall for the Gryffindor girl more. When you hadn't said anything, she stopped and lowered her head, “I’m boring you, aren't I?”

You sat straight in your chair and fumbled your words before reaching out to grab her hand from across the table, “No, no, no, of course not. I could never be bored of you, I love you.” Your eyes widened. You didn't exactly expect to let it slip out like that, but you studied her reaction to see if you could leave it at that or otherwise. She sat still with a poker face. “Y-you’re my best friend, Mione–”

“I love you, too,” she confessed. “Huh?” Please, please, please tell me I heard her right. You didn't get to fully process what she said because after a few seconds, she gathered all her courage and reached over the table to give you a quick peck on your lips. It would've been a sweet moment hadn't she accidentally knocked her glass over in the process. Everyone in the Three Broomsticks had their eyes on you, Hermione’s face beet red and lowered out of embarrassment. You tried cleaning the mess and out of nowhere, Hermione ran out. Fuck this you thought as you ran after her.

“Mione, wait!” She hadn't gone far and luckily for you, she listened. Her cheeks were rosy and her eyes averted from yours. “Where are you going? Aren’t we on a date?” Confidence had finally kicked in when you asked her. Hermione’s breath hitched. She couldn't see anything in your face that showed you were joking. Because you weren't. “Yes,” she grabbed your hands and started walking towards the other shops in the small village. Until once again, she nearly fell back when she nearly slipped over another rock on the ground. You supported her back up and giggled, “You’re so clumsy.”

—

requests open!

[fandom-puff]

Exception

Pairing: Severus Snape x Lucius Malfoy x Reader

Requested by: @sokkas-socks ‘HI BBY!!! Is there any chance you could do a spicy Lucius x Snape x Reader smut? One where you’re in a relationship with Lucius and he shares you with Snape. Maybe the first time he does this would be cool, where he like calls you into the room and you’re shocked to see Snape there and then... smut ensues. But if that’s too long any snape x lucius x reader smut would be great!’

Notes: okay, you all need to go and follow the requester’s fic page @pinkandblueblurbs bc the smut on there is -*chefs kiss*

ALSO I got a little carried away with this one :)

Warnings: threesome (MMF), oral sex, Dom/sub dynamic, sir kink, degradation

You pulled your long blank dressing gown tight around yourself, shivering as you scurried along the hallways of Malfoy Manner. Lucius had sent a patronus to you from his study, requesting you put on a set of lingerie and nothing more and make your way there.

“Lucius, I swear to god, you better intend on warming me up, it’s bloody freezing out there,” you grumbled pushing into the study. You froze, shutting the door behind you, locking eyes with Severus Snape, who was lounging on one of the armchairs, a glass of whiskey in hand. “What are you doing here?” You demanded, drawing your robe tightly across yourself. Only Lucius was to see your pretty lingerie.

Lucius tsked. “Now, now, kitten,” he chastised gently. “That’s no way to greet our guest,” you shuffled on your feet, murmuring a ‘sorry,’. Lucius smirked, gesturing you over to sit on his lap. “Severus has come to play, my love,” he whispered in your ear, making you shiver as your eyes widened. You looked up at lucius, chewing your lip. A week prior you had discussed inviting severus to join in with your intimate escapades... you hardly expected lucius to act upon it, and you couldn’t help but feel shy, nuzzling your face into Lucius’s neck. “Shh, kitten, don’t be shy,” Lucius said, coaxing your head up. “I distinctly remember you considering what it would be like to be shared... I’m not a man who shares... but severus is an exception,”

Severus smirked, setting his glass down. “Charming,” he said lowly and you failed to suppress your shudder of desire. “Are you in agreement with this, YN?” He asked, and when you gave an honest nod, he smirked.

Lucius tapped your thigh. “Up you get then,” when you made to walk to the door, he grabbed your wrist. “Where D’you think you’re going?” He asked, arching a brow. You gulped.

“Bedroom?”

“Ah, ah, ah,” he smirked. “We haven’t admired the view properly yet... did you do ask I asked?” You nodded quickly. “Good girl. Drop you robe. I’m sure severus would love to see your pretty lingerie,” Biting your lip, already breathing shallowly, you untied the robe, allowing it the flutter to the floor. You knew better than to try and cover yourself, displaying your thin Lacy white lingerie to them both. “Give is a twirl, princess,” Lucius smirked, watching as severus leant forward slightly as you slowly rotated. “Good,”

Severus hummed contentedly. “Positively angelic,” he said, dark eyes roving along your body. “So very innocent in that pretty white lace... are you as innocent as you look, YN?” He asked sternly and you gulped, looking at Lucius who just smirked.

“I... no, sir,” you breathed. Severus’s breath hitched.

“And why’s that? Are you not Lucius’s little princess? Hmm?”

Your cheeks flooded with heat and you fidgeted on the spot. “I am!” You said quickly, resisting the urge to pout. “It’s just... I can be... I’m... sometimes... I...”

“Youre my little slut, aren’t you, darling?” Lucius said gently and you nodded.

“Yes, sir,” you whispered.

“Lucius’s little slut? How so?”

You gulped, barely able to meet his eyes. “I... I love taking his cock,” you mumbled. “And I love being filled up with his come... I beg for it, all the time, in my mouth, in my... in my... cunt, and...” you looked at your feet, biting your lip hard. “And sometimes in my arse...”

Severus looked over at lucius and smirked. “My, you dark horse, Malfoy,” he said. “Here’s me thinking you fucked for heirs and were too prim and proper for anything wilder than taking her from behind,”

Lucius let out a laugh and you squirmed before them, pressing your thighs together. “Aww... what’s wrong, pet?” He said, an air of condescension thick in his voice. “Has telling severus what a little whore you are got you all wet?” You nodded, looking down to the floor in shame. “Come here, sit on my lap, your back to me,” you did as you were told, leaning back into his chest, worrying your lip between your teeth as you wriggled. “Still,” he ordered, and you felt his stiffening cock press up against your bum. “I bet your lovely white knickers are all ruined, aren’t they? Absolutely sodden,” you nodded quickly. Severus stood up and knelt before you and Lucius, staring you dead in the eye. “Spread your legs,” Lucius hissed in your ear and you squealed, opening your legs quickly.

“As we suspected, Lucius,” severus said from between your thighs. “Absolutely drenched... I can see the outline of her cunt through the fabric, she’s that wet,”

You whined out softly, hiding your face in Lucius’s neck. Lucius gestured to Severus, and you felt deft fingers yanking the material down your thighs, tossing the damp scrap of lace aside. Lucius grabbed your cheeks between his thumb and fingers and made you look at him. “Severus is going to lick your pretty pussy, darling,” he said and you nodded eagerly. “And it would be very rude of you if you looked away, wouldn’t it?”

“Yes sir,”

“Good girl. Watch.”

You moaned softly, which soon turned much louder as Severus’s tongue darted out, licking between your folds and drinking in your wetness with obscene slurping noises, reminding you what a messy little slut you were. As he wrapped his lips around your clit, his dark eyes smouldered, burning against yours as he sucked, flicking his tongue against your sensitive nub. He held your knees apart, arching his brows at you as you cried out, bucking your hips against his face despite Lucius’s arm around you.

As Severus slid a long finger into you, you let out a shuddering moan, clenching tightly around his finger as he stroked your inner walls gently. When a second was added, his tongue still stroking your clit, your head tipped back and you arched your chest, trying to ride his face and his fingers as best you could. Lucius tutted, tangling his fingers in your hair and pushing your head down. “Watch,” he growled, biting your collarbone as his other hand fondled your tit, tugging the cup of your bra down.

You nodded, staring hard at severus as he scrubbed the flat of his tongue against your clit. “Please,” you whined out, grasping onto Severus’s hair, grinding your hips up to him desperately. “Please, please let me come... I’m so close!” You whispered, biting your lip hard. Lucius nodded at severus over your shoulder, and severus grunted, his fingers massaging against your spot as you cried out, spasming hard around his digits, your clit throbbing against his tongue as he rode out your orgasm.

Smirking, he pulled away, licking his lips before cleaning off his sodden fingers with his tongue. “Divine,” he said simply and you giggled, panting as you flopped against Lucius’s chest, your still twitching hips grinding against his straining trousers.

“Youre hard,” you whispered, nipping his ear gently.

“I know darling... but I have an idea... we’ll go upstairs... we’ll lay you out... severus will fill you up... and I think your mouth shall suffice for me...” you looked over at severus, eyeing the prominent bulge in his trousers and nodded, licking your lips. Lucius smiled and draped your robe over your shoulders as you made your way to the bedroom.

Severus shut the door behind you, watching as Lucius helped you crawl into the centre of the bed, laying on your back, propped up slightly. Lucius hummed, stalking over to severus. “Out of the shadows, old friend,” he purred, pulling Severus in for a sensual kiss. As they kissed, they took turns pushing and pulling their garments off and your eyes widened as you watched their heavy cocks as they were revealed. You whined softly, but knew better than to touch yourself.

Lucius chuckled as he pulled away, the two of them surveying you. “Are you feeling a little neglected, dear?” Lucius asked softly and you nodded.

“We can quickly put an end to that, can’t we?” Severus drawled, stalking over to you. “Get rid of that bra, YN...” you nodded and quickly fumbled with it, tossing it aside. “My, are you eager...” you bit your lip and nodded, already spreading your legs and bucking your hips up.

Lucius smirked, sitting next to you, his hips level with your face. “Are you going to let severus fuck you YN?”

“Yes please...” you whined, looking desperately between them. Severus smirked, pumping his cock a few times before lining himself up with you. Slowly, he pushed in, hissing at your tightness and letting out a choked groan as he bottomed out. He was a little thicker than you were used to, and your eyebrows knitted together as you whimpered at the stretch.

“Does severus feel good inside you, pet?” Lucius asked, stroking your hair.

“Mmm... so good,” you moaned, rocking your hips up eagerly. Severus groaned lowly, settling into a strong slow pace, lips pressed in a firm line as he tried (and failed) to suppress his noises. The hand in your hair suddenly tightened and you gasped, following Lucius’s guidance, allowing him to push his cock down your throat, groaning as your moans vibrated along his shaft.

“Fuck...” Severus hissed through his teeth, eyes widening as he watched the sight before him. “YN, darling... do you think you can manage if I fuck you harder?” Severus grunted and you cast a pleading look over to him, nodding as best as you could with a mouthful of cock. Severus let out a growl as his hips worked faster and you moaned out around lucius, his cock bumping the back of your throat, making you gag slightly. Lucius grunted, bucking his hips up slowly, a heavy contrast from the ruthless pounding you were receiving from his best friend.

Moaning wantonly, you reached to fondle Lucius’s balls, feeling yourself near the edge, whining needily. “She’s close, Severus...” Lucius groaned. “Rub her clit and let her come, there’s a good girl... do you want severus to fill you with his come too?” You nodded eagerly, hollowing your cheeks as tears streamed down your cheeks. As the first spurts of Lucius’s release trickled down your throat, Severus pressed his thumb against your clit. You pulled away as you jolted in pleasure, Lucius’s cock slapping your face as a few spurts of his come soiled your cheek and dripped down to your chest.

Severus growled, coming with a shout as he felt the tightening of your cunt. The combined sensation of him filling you with his seed, still thrusting into you with reckless abandon as he played with your clit, as well as Lucius’s gentle pinches against your nipples was too much for your body to handle and you came with a broken cry, your whole body trembling with the weight of your orgasm. What must have only been a few moments later (although to you, everything was moving in slow motion) you were cleaned up and tucked in between them, your back against Severus’s chest and your head nuzzled into Lucius’s. “Severus should come more often,” you mumbled into Lucius’s chest.

Lucius stared hard at his friend before looking down at you. “I second that, My Darling,”

Tags: @a-hopeless-fan @lotsoffandomrecs @rai-strangebr @zodiyack @haphazardhufflepuff @dumbfuckinslytherin @severuslovebot @darkthought15 @rabeccablake @sambucky8 @eleven-times-lively @talksoprettyjjx @extra-trash77 @rangerelik @Dracosbbygorl @wonderwoman292 @lilymurphy03 @fredweasleyisntdead @fredswh0re @rogertaylorismycar @meaganjm @fanficwriter5 @shadesofbarryallen @kiwi-sloan @bbeauttyybbx @inglourious-imagines @bonniesgoldengirl @trumpsgorillagrip @blisshemmings @little-bit-of-randomness @vsarzx @eunoia-kth @liliputbahn @thestunningspell @kiwi-sloan @beiahadid @courtnytrash04 @ccosmic-illusion @purpleskymalfoy @marshxx @hogwartslut @thatslovelymoony @winchestergirl333 @sterwild

[sunder-soul]

first of all your work is AMAZING- like damn that smut? 👀 but anyway- i’ve had this concept for awhile imagine that reader was the one who made the design for the dark mark for tom riddle? like y/n is an artist and likes to draw, paint, all that jazz, and she saw the symbol in like her dreams or something and decided to draw it. and then tommy boy sees it and takes a liking to it like, “...i could use that-“ i don’t if this is a weird ask or not but i thought it was interesting. 🥺👉🏻👈🏻

So this has been in my inbox for so long bc I just couldn’t crack how I wanted to tackle it and then yesterday BOOM I had an idea so here I am!! Hope you enjoy  💖

･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. 

Consume

Summary: Reader looks into Tom Riddle’s tea leaves on an unlucky day in Divination. Something looks back.

Word count: 1.5k

Content warning: none.

･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

You’ve heard of the domino effect before, but never has it been so grimly demonstrated to you than in that exact moment standing in front of the entire Divination classroom with the only spare seat left opposite Tom bloody Riddle.

It started (or at least, as far as you can tell) an entire week earlier when you’d walked in on Ophelia Greengrass sobbing in the fourth-floor girl’s bathroom during second period. Up until then you’d not spoken more than half a dozen words to Ophelia across your entire time at Hogwarts, but it had felt wrong not to say anything – and as it turned out, Ophelia had been in dire need of someone saying something to her. She’d been dating Lestrange for a little over three months and by the sounds of it things were not going well.

So of course you’d comforted her as best you could but it was hardly surprising when she tentatively approached again you the next day, and the next, and the next, and then every single day for an entire week there had been a new horror story until yesterday you’d finally had enough and told her that she should break up with him.

That, of course, was why he’d confronted you in the corridor that morning on the way to Charms, angrily accusing you of losing him his girlfriend. And that was why you and Lestrange had been caught by Peeves with a watering can full of Bulbadox juice brandished gleefully in his spindly hands.

Which was how you both ended up in the hospital wing for the entirety of first period, Lestrange with boils all over his face and down his back, and you with them on your hands from where you’d managed to shield yourself.

You’d left Lestrange behind complaining loudly as the matron peeled back his school shirt, sprinting all the way up to the Divination tower at breakneck speed, throwing the trapdoor to the classroom open and scrambling inside, the trapdoor falling shut behind you, the very final domino.

“Sorry I’m late, Professor,” you gasp as you spin around to face her. “Peeves caught me and Lestrange!”

The class snickers.

“That’s quite alright, quite alright…” Cassandra Trelawney says, deep and ringing, “we have not yet started, take a seat with Mr Riddle and we shall begin…”

You freeze. Riddle…?

That’s when it hits you.

Lestrange always sat with Riddle in Divination.

And you’re so late that everyone else already has partners.

You turn to see Tom Riddle sitting at the back of the room looking at you with a polite but blank expression on his face. The class giggles again. The vast majority of Hogwarts students are at least somewhat in love with Riddle – beautiful, intelligent, polite Riddle, orphaned and poor but refined and successful. Better yet he barely speaks to anyone, leaving a lot of empty space of endless possibility for people to fill in with their personal daydreams.

He scares you.

Those horrible boys that hang around him remind you of flies hanging around rotting meat. And if they’re the flies, that makes Riddle…

You grit your teeth and step forward, weaving between the other tables and snickering students to take your seat, dropping your bag to the floor and eyeing the tea set on the small table apprehensively.

“Begin your readings!” Trelawney calls.

You frown and turn to Riddle questioningly. “We’re doing tea leaves?”

“Tasseography,” he corrects smoothly, leaning forward and picking up the burnished copper pot with one hand and pouring steaming tea into the little china cup in front of him.

You blink at him silently. There’s something manufactured about his face that you can’t put your finger on.

“Shall I go first or would you like to?” Riddle asks casually, pouring you a cup, too.

“I don’t mind,” you mumble, looking away.

Riddle sets the pot down and picks up his cup in long, elegant fingers, lifting it to his lips. “The instructions are on page seventy-nine,” he says after taking a sip, looking around the room disinterestedly.

You pull out your book and find the right chapter and scan the first few paragraphs as Riddle finishes his tea, sipping absently at your own, and by the time he finally hands you his cup your heart rate has finally returned to normal from running up eight flights of stairs.

“You have a scattered-type formation,” you say, checking it against the diagram on your page, “and it’s north-west oriented.”

“Mhmm,” Riddle says noncommittedly, his dark eyes level on the parchment before him as he takes notes.

You lean forward over Riddle’s cup and frown as you compare it to the pictures in the book. “That looks like shepherd’s crook,” you say, pointing to a cluster shaped like a pinched hook, “which means… either the responsibility to protect, or the exertion of power and authority over a group of people.”

Riddle scoffs very lightly, his lips curling into a slight smirk as he continues to write.

Something about it had clearly struck a chord with him, but you pointedly train your eyes back on your book. “Oh,” you frown, checking his cup again. “Or it’s the old glyph for seven.”

Riddle stops writing. You look up curiously at the sudden lack of his quill scratching evenly on his parchment to find him perfectly still, his eyes on your face. “Seven?” he repeats, tone distinct.

You nod and push your book around to show him. “The number seven used to be drawn like that, too.”

Riddle’s eyes drop to the page and linger there for a moment before he resumes taking his notes – though his expression is much more preoccupied than before.

But something in Riddle’s cup has caught your eye. Beside the shepherd’s crook/number seven is a lump of tea leaves so distinct in form that it’s almost comical – the round of the cranium, the square of a mandible, and gaps in the leaves to indicate two eye sockets.

“Oh,” you say in surprise, pulling your book back around. “Wow, that’s pretty clearly a…”

You trail off, frowning. You’ve noticed the tea leaves below it, the long twisting trail that leads directly into the skull’s mouth. A cold, creeping feeling is curling in your stomach as something about the image before you seems to move, you can almost see the thing writhing, it almost looks like a…

“How are we going?” Trelawney asks, suddenly right beside you.

You jump, looking up at her in panic. “Fine,” you say quickly.

She lifts her brows, assessing you thoughtfully. “Hmm,” she says, before glancing at Riddle. “And you?”

“Fine,” Riddle echoes smoothly. But he’s not looking at Trelawney.

He’s looking at you.

･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

The image worms into your thoughts like a deep root, twisting into places you don’t expect to find it and spreading itself out more and more. The dreams are first, and then the nightmares, and finally the night terrors. The skull hovers before you, its pitch, hollow eyes bore into you, the snake coiling endlessly with its fangs yawning wide.

Something about it is cold and evil, some sort of strange perversion of an ouroboros, the eternal snake broken by the skull’s mouth.

Consuming it.

“What is that?”

Your head snaps up from your parchment feeling like you’ve just been jolted awake from a deep sleep, and it takes you a second to process the sight of Tom Riddle before you, his eyes fixed attentively on the parchment strewn on top of the essay you’re supposed to be writing.

He’d caught you drawing it for the hundredth time.

“Nothing,” you say hastily, sliding it away under a book. “Just a doodle.”

Riddle’s eyes flick to yours. There’s a cold rigidity to his expression that you don’t like. It’s a coldness that feels horribly familiar.

For a moment you almost think he’s going to force you to show him, but after a long moment Riddle looks away and he’s gone, disappearing off further into the library. You exhale in relief and pull out the parchment again.

Drawing it made the thoughts go away for a bit, like manifesting the horrible thing distracted it from its need to live in your head. You lift your quill and carefully write a single word next to the skull.

Consume.

･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

The parchment goes missing the next day.

You never prove that he took it, never even mention it to him, but Riddle’s eyes have a cold glimmer to them when he catches your eye in Divination next, the smallest curl to his lips like he’s daring you to bring it up.

The dreams abruptly stop.

･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

When you see it next, it’s in a photo on the front page of the Daily Prophet beneath a terrified headline, a spectre hovering just like it had in your nightmares at school years prior. Except this time it’s real. This time it’s above the burning remains of the family home of a prominent Muggle-born politician and Voldemort’s name is a shadow on everyone’s lips.

You stare at it on the page, the snake writhing in ink, the black, hollow eyes of the skull, and you think about Tom Riddle’s cold smile watching you from across the classroom, his manufactured beauty, the boys that hung around him like flies around rotten meat.

He’s named it the Dark Mark.

[atlabeth]

fever - sokka x reader

this has been sitting in my drafts half finished for 3 weeks so i thot it was prime time i actually finished it

this is kinda based off the song w dua lipa and angele so you can listen to that if you want

summary: sokka's convinced there's a mystery illness keeping you from focusing, but somehow he's completely oblivious that the only 'sick' you are is lovesick, and he's the reason you can't focus.

a/n: i have never written a sickfic. but this is like. a fake sick fic. its an idiots in love fic. i mean this is coming from mr "is he taller than me? is he better looking?" himself so. it makes sense. as usual, this is not proofread bc im a lazy mf

also im sorry for being vague with the calc but i was NOT about to do math during summer who do you think i am? ??

wc: 1.7k

warning(s): mentions of being sick and 🤢calculus 🤮 but otherwise tooth rotting fluff

-

How could the smartest man you knew be so, so incredibly stupid?

You thought that you were being obvious, so obviously that you were sure he knew. It was embarrassing how obvious you were.

You had met Sokka in your calculus class at the start of the new semester after you ended up sitting next to each other, and it wasn’t a stretch to say that you were immediately smitten. With eyes like the ocean and a face that had to have been crafted by the gods, you were almost too distracted to respond when he asked you for a pencil. But when he winked at you after giving his thanks, it only solidified what you had already suspected: you had known this man for all of five minutes, and you already had a crush on him.

Little did you know, it was going to turn into the most infuriating crush you had ever experienced.

You and Sokka became fast friends even though calculus was the only class you had together. Unfortunately, it was also something that you completely sucked at. Bad news, it was required for your major. Good news, Sokka was some sort of genius and offered to tutor you — Wednesdays in the library turned into a weekly occasion, and served as an opening for your calculus skills, your feelings for Sokka, and your exasperation to all grow stronger.

You normally weren’t someone to beat around the bush. If you started to like someone, you told them and dealt with whatever happened after, but something about Sokka just kept you from spilling your feelings outright. You knew that if he didn’t feel the same way, your relationship likely wouldn’t change, but there was still that tiny voice that said it’s better to stay like this in case things do go wrong — and this was the first time you listened to that voice. You simply valued your friendship too much.

But that didn’t mean you were going to be completely quiet about it — you hoped that if you did enough, he would be able to realize you liked him and do the whole process for you. A bit of a dim hope, but crushes make people do stupid things.

Things like bringing an extra coffee to every session, laughing at all his jokes (even the bad ones), sitting a little closer to him than usual, not dropping out of this wretched class so you could spend time together (it might’ve been required, but you still counted it). He didn’t make a point to object to anything, so you knew you weren’t making him uncomfortable — but you had concluded after nearly a whole semester of working and studying together that he was the most oblivious person in all of Ba Sing Se. He could teach you all kinds of formulas, but had no idea that you liked him. Grand.

Today was arguably the most important session out of any of them, seeing as your next class was the final, so it was only fitting that Sokka unknowingly made himself more interesting than any material you could’ve been working with. His arms were going to be the death of both you and your calc grade. You swore that the heat rushing to your cheeks was actually emanating off of you.

“Hey, Y/N!” Sokka grinned as he saw you and raised a hand in greeting, a sentiment you would’ve returned had it not been for the coffee cups in your hands. You settled for mirroring his grin and settled down in the seat across from him. You slid his coffee cup over, set your own down, then shrugged your bag off all before taking a seat.

“You ready to study ‘till your eyes bleed?” he asked, prompting a nervous laugh from you.

“You jest, but my eyes might actually start bleeding depending on how long we go,” you sighed. “There’s a reason I got an extra shot of espresso today.”

“Come on — by now you should know that you have nothing to worry about! I am the best teacher there is, and you got me all to yourself.”

Your eyes widened momentarily and you coughed, purposefully averting your gaze to give yourself some time to recover. Okay, he was going to make it really hard to focus today. “Let’s just get into it.”

He nodded and flipped open his notebook, beginning to talk as he rifled through his bag for a few extra things. “Okay, we’re just gonna start with going over the basics, then we’ll work our way up. There’s a couple practice problems on that page, so you can go ahead and answer those as a warmup.

You slid the notebook over in front of you and after approximately five seconds of looking at the first problem, found yourself studying Sokka rather than the material. Who could blame you? In the battle of cute tutor boy versus calculus, he was going to win every time.

He turned around and you immediately averted your eyes once again, trying to appear extremely involved, but you found that your mind was empty on anything to do with math. “Hey, uh— how do you do this first one? I’m totally blanking here.”

“We use limits in everything — this is actually something you’re really good at!” He studied you intensely and frowned. “Are you okay? Like, you’re not sick or anything, are you? You seem kinda out of it.”

You choked out a laugh and shook your head. “No, no — I’m fine. I guess I’m just a little tired.” As if to demonstrate your lie, you took a sip from your coffee and cringed internally. Love had turned you into an idiot.

He seemed to buy it as he nodded and picked up the pencil, scribbling a couple of notes as he explained the first problem to you. “Does that make sense?” You nodded and he handed the pencil back to you. “Okay — the other ones follow the same kind of process. It should be easy enough.”

You managed to get a little further in the second problem, but your lovestruck mind would not stop focusing back on Sokka every time you tried to do, well, anything. Curse him and his perfect arms, and eyes, and hairstyle, and everything.

You shook your head and set the pencil down once more, letting loose a frustrated sigh. “I don’t know what’s gotten into me.” Yes, you did. “I just can’t focus at all.” Because of you. You picked up your cup once more and took a sip, hoping it would do something to get you back into the math state of mind.

Sokka frowned once more as he put the back of his hand against your forehead. “God, you’re hot.” You nearly choked on your coffee as your eyes practically bulged out of their sockets — he had to know what he was doing by now — how could he not? “Like, you’re completely burning up. Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine, I swear— I just…” you set your cup down on the table and heaved a sigh that was a touch more exasperated than necessary. “Are you telling me you seriously haven’t noticed? Like, not a single thing this whole year?”

“I’ve noticed a lot of things this year,” he chuckled. “It’s kind of our whole job, so you’re gonna have to be a lot more specific.”

You finally couldn’t hold it in anymore. “Sokka, I’m not��� I’m not sick! Haven’t you noticed that I’m only ever flustered, or running into things, or forgetting info, or— or just a complete idiot when I’m around you? I like you, like, a lot, and I have for an embarrassingly long time! The reason I can’t focus is because I am hopelessly attracted to you in every single way.”

His brows creased for a moment and you clamped your mouth shut, worried that you had just ruined everything. It was only after a pause that felt like a century that he finally responded, the hint of a smirk on his lips.

“Well, why didn’t you just say something?”

You stared at him, eyes wide and lips slightly parted in pure surprise before the annoyance set in. You set your jaw as your brows furrowed and you hit him lightly on the side of his arm with the back of your palm. “You can’t be serious! You— you’ve gotta be messing with me by now. I really can’t believe that you can be that smart but this oblivious!”

He finally let the grin play across his lips in full force and he shrugged nonchalantly. “I mean, I don’t know how you don’t expect me to mess with you when you scrunch up your face all cute like that every time you get mad. Besides, I started liking you after that fifth class; I offered to help you out so I could spend more time with you! I didn’t realize you felt the same way. I kinda just enjoyed the free coffee and getting to look at you all the time.”

“I can’t believe you!” you cried as you hit his other arm. “You’re telling me that I had to deal with this- this mental turmoil about whether you liked me back, while you were just enjoying the free eye candy and coffee the whole time?”

“You have nothing to worry about! I enjoyed the company far more than the coffee,” he joked, a certain twinkle in his eye. “But, you are probably out a couple twenties after all of that. So, what do you say about this Saturday, the cafe by the shoe store? My treat.”

“Damn right it’s your treat,” you shot back, though you couldn’t stop the smile forming on your face. “You owe me a lot — you have to make up for those coffees and all the emotional distress you caused.”

“Oh, I think I’ll have plenty of time to make up for lost time. After all, we do have a lot of coffee dates to get through.” And when he winked at you just like that first day, you remembered just how impossible it was to be angry at Sokka. “But first, we kinda have to get through this study date. The final’s still happening tomorrow.”

You responded with a raised brow. “This is a study date?”

Sokka shrugged and grinned. “They’ve all been study dates. You just didn’t know it.”

-

idiots in love idiots in love idiots In LOVe

perm tag list: @dv0412 @siriuslyslyslytherin @maruchan77

atla: @marianne1806

[alit0my]

if you're still taking prompts: while in exile Booker dies some death that fucks his brain a bit and makes him lose his memories in a weird way. The team steps in to take care of him in order to prevent the secret from coming out and just care for him bc they still love him. And Booker doesn't remember them but still has FEELINGS from before. And one day he tells them all "I don't remember who any of you are, but I do know that I love you all SO MUCH" and the team is stunned and like "OH GOD"

im always taking prompts anon ;-) i hope you like this!

~

Andy’s cell phone rang in the middle of the night, waking the others as the ringtone blared through the small sleeping quarters. Quickly, she picked up the phone and murmured her apology to the team. 

“Copley? It’s four am, what’s going on?” Andy spoke, knowing the man was on the other end. He was the only person who had the number after all.

“Andy. I’m sorry, but this couldn’t wait until morning. It’s Booker,” Copley said with an urgent tone. “He’s been injured.” 

Andy sat up a bit straighter in her bed, resting against the headboard. “He’s not healing?” 

The others became more awake at her words, glancing at each other in alarm. Booker was still young, there was no way he wasn’t healing.

“Somewhat. I sent him on a simple job to get intel and it went to shit,” Copley sighed. “It’s his memories, they seem to not have returned to him when he woke, and I’m worried that will cause unwanted trouble.” 

Andy’s breath hitched in her throat, her grip on the burner phone tightening. “How far back does he recall?” 

“He thinks he’s back in Marseille, 1800’s. Unsure of the exact year I’m afraid” 

“He’s looking for his family,” Andy cursed quietly, nodding at the others to get ready to leave. “Where is he now? Do you have an address?” 

“I’ll send it through. I’m also not sure if he remembers you, so I’d be weary about busting the door down and putting him on the defensive foot straight away.” 

Andy closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “Alright, thanks Copley.” 

“What’s happened?” Nicky asked, zipping up his duffel bag. Andy stood and swung her own duffel bag over her shoulder, grabbing the car keys off the bedside table. 

“I’ll explain on the way.”

~

Sebastien stood in front of the land that once held his family home. Finding it an empty field of tall grass made him furrow his brows in confusion. Where was Claire? Louis? Michel? Jean-Pierre? Had they moved and not told him? Surely he hadn’t been away for too long to have the house pulled down and grass to grow. 

He watched as groups of people walked past him, not paying him any mind. Frowning, he tried to find something he could identify in his surroundings, but came up short. 

“Excuse me, can you tell me what happened to my home?” He asked a group that walked by, earning him strange looks. 

“Sir, that has been a vacant block for as long as I can remember. There hasn’t been a property there for years,” One of them replied, smiling even though they were confused. Their answer only made Sebastien just as bewildered. 

“What do you mean? What is the date today?” 

“Um,” the stranger pulled a flat object out of their pocket and then put it back just as quickly. “27th of October, 2036.” 

“20- No, that’s not-” 

Something buzzed in his pocket which cut him off. He reached in, pulling out a contraption that looked familiar, but he couldn’t put his finger on what it was called. He gave the stranger his thanks as they walked off, and the thing still buzzed in his hand, so he flipped it open and brought it to his ear. It seemed like the right thing to do with the object. 

“Booker?” A man’s voice came through, shocking Sebastien. How was this possible? 

“Who are you? Who is Booker?” He spoke in French. “Where is my family?” 

He waited impatiently before the other man replied in shaky but understandable French. “Sebastien, my apologies. I understand you might be feeling lost, but I have people on the way to help you.” 

“Who? I don’t want help! I want my wife and children!” He shouted, throwing his hands in the air. 

“I understand, but right now you need to get to the address I’m going to send you. Can you manage that?” 

Sebastien pulled the phone away from his ear as the object buzzed once more. The address that appeared on the screen wasn’t too far from where he was. 

“Sebastien?” 

Bringing the phone to his ear once more, he nodded. “I-I will be there.” 

~

Sebastien walked up to the door of the address the man had sent him, finding the key under the course mat outside. Walking into the house, he was greeted with four strangers. Halting at the entrance, fingers still gripping the doorknob tightly, he chuckled awkwardly. 

“I think- I might be in the wrong place,” he stammered, the French slurring together as he rushed the words. “So sorry.” 

“Nonsense,” the older woman spoke in perfect French. “Come in. We are here to help you.” 

Sebastien hesitantly closed the door behind him as he stared at the group. The two men sat together on the couch, a little too close for what was normal with their knees touching. The younger woman had dark skin and tight braids falling over her shoulders, and the other woman had short hair, like his own. Sebastien blinked and shoved his shaky hands into his pockets. These people seemed familiar to him, but he didn’t know how. 

“You can’t help me unless you know what happened to my family,” he whispered and cast his eyes to the floor, missing the knowing looks shared between the strangers. 

“Book- Sebastien, your family is standing right in front of you.”

He looked up and scoffed. “Non, unless I gained two daughters and my wife cheated on me with darker men, you are not my family.” 

He saw the man with curly hair clench his fists and the young woman clench her jaw. He had hit a nerve, but he was unaware of why. 

“Okay, let’s start with our names, no? I’m Andromache,” the fair woman spoke again, gaining his attention once more. “Everyone calls me Andy.” 

“Nile,” the dark woman said.

“Nicolo,” he said with a strong Italian accent.

“Yusuf,” was said with a curt nod. 

None of the names brought Sebastien any closer to figuring out what the hell was happening. At his blank face, Andromache spoke once more. 

“Can I ask what year you think it is?” 

“1807,” he replied, and he gauged their reactions. 

“Alright,” Andromache nodded, chewing at her bottom lip. “Well, we’re here to help you remember. But I think we should start with dinner?” 

’Remember what?’ Sebastien thought, but nodded, which set everything into motion. 

~

He had learned that they called him Booker. He was unsure as to why, and they refused to tell him, so he paid it no mind. They shared stories of their time together, leaving out his betrayal all those years ago, but Sebastien couldn’t remember any of it, and nothing was flashing in his mind as a reminder. 

Months passed and Winter settled over France, sending chills through Sebastien’s bones even when he was seated in front of the woodfire with a woolen jumper wrapped around him. His fingers shook as he flipped the pages of the novel he was reading and he grunted in frustration, placing the book down by his side and sticking his hands out in front of him, closer to the fire to warm them. 

Sebastien frowned as he absently stared at his hands in front of the flames. He remembered that he loved the cold, playing in the snow and building snowmen with his siblings, all of them returning home with noses and ears flushed red, so he couldn’t understand why he felt so cold now. 

Yusuf -Joe- sat down next to him and silently offered to share the blanket that was wrapped around his shoulders. Only hesitating for a moment, Sebastien scooted closer to Joe and leant into the warmth that radiated off him, feeling the blanket wrap around his shoulders and Joe’s hand squeeze his arm. 

It felt familiar, friendly, loving. 

“Did we ever tell you about Russia?” Joe asked quietly, keeping his eyes on the flames. At the shake of Booker’s head, he continued. “It’s where you first died in 1812, fighting for Napoleon.” 

Booker closed his eyes and tried to remember, but nothing came to mind. He felt frustrated, surely memories would have started to seep through back into his mind, but nothing ever did. Instead, he rested his head on Joe’s shoulder and snuggled closer to him. 

“You.. You were hung for desertion, and you hung for three days before the Grande Armee left camp. We didn’t find you until you were nearly back to France,” Joe spoke softly, and Sebastien could listen to his voice forever. “A Russian winter can be so utterly cruel, and your immortality made you suffer over and over while your comrades succumbed to death. It is why you feel the phantom cold as you are, and a few years ago we discovered that they stop when you are cuddling with one of us as we are now.” 

Sebastien thought over the new information. Fighting for Napoleon in Russia? Surely not.

He didn’t mind the cuddles though. 

“I’m sorry I don’t remember any of you,” Sebastien spoke, voice breaking through it’s lack of use. He found himself not speaking much, preferring to listen to the stories his friends told him and asking questions when he got lost. 

“Nonsense, Bastien.” Joe ran his hand through Sebastien’s hair softly. “We’re here to help you remember, no matter how long it takes.” 

~

The pair had moved to the couch by the time the others had returned home from their shopping, Nile being adamant about having a big dinner for Christmas in a few days. Sebastien was curled into Joe’s side with the blanket still wrapped around them both, and he felt himself flush at the looks they got from the others. 

Nicolo -Nicky, now, remember?- smiled and walked over, kissing both Joe and Sebastien on the cheek in greeting, before crouching down in front of them. “How are you doing, Bas?” 

“Better. Joe is rather warm,” Sebastien replied, curling further into said man’s warmth. 

“He is, isn’t he,” Nicky chuckled softly, grabbing Sebastien’s hands and rubbing his thumbs over the cool palms. “Nile is cooking dinner tonight. Don’t tell her, but I don’t have much faith in her.” 

Sebastien laughed loudly before burying his face in Joe’s neck as Nile rounded the corner with a faux annoyed look on her face. “Hey! I’m a good cook!” 

Nicky moved to sit on Sebastien’s other side, and rolled his eyes playfully. “I’m sure you are, Nile. That soup you made a few weeks ago was seriously under seasoned.” 

“How dare you! Never in my life would I have imagined a white man telling me I’ve under seasoned my food!” Nile scoffed, but it had become their thing to tease the other about their dinners, so Sebastien didn’t intervene. He had each and every dynamic sorted out by now, and he knew this was playful. 

He felt warmth blossom from his chest as he watched them interact, playfully jabbing at the use of spices and ingredients in Nile’s failed soup attempt, and a grin spread across his lips. Sebastien truly felt at home with these people, they made him feel safe and happy and were always there for him.

He didn’t let himself think that maybe it was because of his memories no longer being with him. He didn’t want to tarnish the few months they’ve had together by believing they didn’t want to be around him. 

He was brought out of his thoughts by a dishtowel hitting him flush in the face. “Hey!” 

“Sorry Book! I was aiming for Nicky!” Nile laughed as the towel fell short when he threw it back to her. Andy had joined them in the room, opting to sit on the armrest of the single recliner with a glass of water in her hands. Sebastien didn’t know what it was about the woman that drew these deep feelings out of him, but he didn’t shy away from them. He didn’t shy away from anything he was feeling towards this little group he found himself in. 

“You good?” Andy asked across the room, making eye contact with the Frenchman. Sebastien thought for a moment, going back to how he fit into this little family, and he nodded, smiling as Nile entered the room with a tray of biscuits. 

“I may not remember who any of you are, but I do know that I love you all, so very much.” 

~ 

Weeks passed and Sebastien -non, Booker- still remembered the looks on his family’s faces as he told them he loves them. The amount of tears spilled that night would have filled the Seine, and he wouldn’t change it for the world. They had ended up in a dogpile on the couch, holding each other close and whispering words of affirmation to each other, promises were made and love was shared. 

Waking up the next morning with a stiff neck but surrounded by the four most important people in his life was worth it. 

Booker woke with a jolt, breathing heavy as he orientated himself. Still surrounded by four bodies, all still and silent, he closed his eyes again and took a few deep breaths. His dream was strange to say the least, with all five of them shooting their way out of an extremely white building, with flashes of being strapped to a plinth in a lab fighting to stay in Booker’s recollection. What on earth had happened?

“Book? Are you okay?” Nicky whispered as he shifted by his side. “Hey, you’re safe.” 

“I know, I know, I just.. I had a weird dream,” Booker whispered back, shimmying a hand out from the blanket that was still wrapped around himself and Joe, to rub at his face. 

“Tell me?” 

Booker paused. “We were fighting in a building. It was really white and there were a lot of corridors, and so many bodies. I’m getting flashes of us strapped down to tables also,” he stopped as he gauged Nicky’s face, which had turned sour. “W-What did I do?” 

He heard a soft curse from his other side which drew his attention to Andy. “Of course the one thing you remember is the worst possible,” she mumbled and sat up. 

“What did I do?” Booker repeated. If he had caused them pain, then that changed everything. 

“Something that you have already paid for,” Nicky grabbed his hand and squeezed it. “It was a painful yet brief moment in our lives, but you need not worry about it anymore.” 

Booker frowned but nodded. He didn’t want to argue so he kept his mouth shut, but that didn’t stop him from searching his brain for answers. 

~

The team had taken up a job from Copley, who Booker discovered was the man who had called him that day in Marseille, and were infiltrating a small terrorist hideout. It was meant to be easy; a stakeout had meant that no resistance should have been present when they attacked, but alas, nothing is ever that easy.

Upon extraction, they had been ambushed by a few terrorists who had returned, and all hell broke loose. Bullets flew through the air and swords hacked away at bodies, and they almost made it out without a casualty. 

Almost.

Booker was shot in the chest and went down. He felt the warmth spread under his clothes and he dropped to his knees, feeling dizzy and the world went black. 

Joe cursed and pulled Booker’s body into an alcove, hiding them from the gunfire. Joe had his gun in his hands, half watching Booker and half looking for any threats coming their way. Andy had reached their location and stood guard as Nile and Nicky joined them, guns still raised in case they had to use them. 

Joe grabbed Booker’s hand and squeezed it, praying silently for his friend’s return to life. He waited anxiously and glanced at Nicky, who had the same look of despair on his face. Joe counted the minutes, praying harder as it went over five. 

“C’mon, Booker,” Andy whispered, nudging the man’s arm with her boot gently. “You’re still in this game with me, remember?” 

A moment passes, and with a gasp the Frenchman sucked in a breath and opened his eyes, frantically searching for his family. Not needing to look far, he immediately calmed at the sight of them altogether. 

“Hey,” he grinned, looking at them all. “Hey Boss.” 

Andy let out a strangled sound and knelt down beside him, encasing him in the tightest hug he thinks he’s ever received from her. 

“You asshole. It’s not your fault but you’re an asshole,” she mumbled as they pulled away. “Is everything back? Do you remember everything?” 

Booker nodded as he quickly ran through his brain, picking out key moments in his life that shaped him for the better and for the worse. “I’m all here, Boss.” 

Booker had the breath knocked out of him as Joe hugged him tight, and he laughed softly, returning it in earnest. 

“If all you had to do was die to get your memories back I would have shot you myself!” Joe huffed as he pulled away, smiling as he picked up his gun that was dropped by his feet. 

“I don’t mean to be rude,” Nile interrupted. “But we’re in the middle of a terrorist camp. Can we have a happy reunion when we are, I don’t know, safe?”

Booker laughed and stood with the help of Joe and Nicky and he raised his rifle, fighting with the team seamlessly as they escaped the compound. 

Back at the safehouse, they showered each other in tight hugs and shared memories and alcohol, toasting to their love for one another as they drank the night away.

~

Available on AO3 also: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26527225 

[flowerpersephone]

Old Myths , Loki x Reader

Prompt: old books, Loki

A/N: ok I know I said I will be participating into the June blackout but I had to do @gingerwritess writing challenge… It’s literally bc of her that I’m writing on Tumblr now.This piece is set when reader and Loki are moving together btw! It’s not my best but I hope you’ll enjoy it!

Warning: none , only fluff here 

Masterlist is in my pinned :)

Boxes, so many boxes everywhere around the small apartment and in the middle of those boxes there was at least four piles of books all worn out and used but well loved by their owner.

Behind those piles stood their owner: you, trying to sort them by categories which one you’ll keep and which one you’ll give to charity. Beside you, your phone was playing a podcast, the radio being already packed with your other belongings.

Of course you weren’t alone, your godly fiance Loki was here to help you packing. You both worked in silence most of the time, only speaking to poke fun of one of the book you used to read. There was a sense of peace between you two as you worked together in harmony, exactly knowing what the other needed without them having to speak out.

But the quiet was soon broken by your gasp as you hold a used book, the cover almost falling apart and where some child had decided to color the blank detail on it with an orange sharpie. Fortunately the title was still readable covered behind the orange drawings.

Loki, now curious to see what book caused you to react like that, leaned against you to see what you held in hand.

“ Norse Myths for children?” he asked raising a brow while an amused smile crept on his lips… Oh this will be way more fun than he thought.

“Yes!! This was my favorite, believe it or not but I had a weird viking phase when I was 6” you quickly explained while opening the books trying to find what you reminded as the myth you liked the most.

Instead, you ended on a page that explained some of the majors gods: Odin, Thor, Frigga, Sif … and of course Loki the trickster god.

This one was much different than the one you knew, he was represented like a fire trickster with flaming red hair, the most accurate part was his mischievous grin.

“Is that me?

- Seems so but you’re more handsome than I remember” you replied before quickly kissing his cheek and go back to reading the page.

“Damn, according to this you have at least 5 children and one of them is a 8 legged horse … And I thought my teenage years were bad

- What? That never happened!

- Yeah sure and Narfi,Vali, Fenrir, Jörmungand, and Hela aren’t your kids…” you replied jokingly, trying to tease him but you didn’t got the reaction you hoped for.

Instead of an amused grin, all you got was a small frown from Loki when he was visibly trying to place all the names you just trowed at him.

“I don’t any Narfi nor Vali, but Jörmungand is supposedly the snake that want to eat your poor little earth and Hela is the goddess you mortals see in the doors of Hell alongside with her wolf Fenrir… That’s what Odin learned me when Thor and Thor were just young boys.” he finally answered, watching your reaction which was just an admirative stare as you listened to him.

He would probably never admit it in front of you, but when you looked at him like that, he felt like his past actions were washed and that he finally got what he deserved in life:you. That’s why he continued to speak about the story his mother told him at night, the one of brave battles to save Asgard or the tale of how the nine realm came to be.

Even with all his tales, you had a question about a detail you just remembered when rereading the page dedicated to Loki, it wasn’t mentioned here but a few pages later when the Ragnarok was explained. It was only three words, but those three words birthed a question in your mind, a question that needed to be asked out loud.

“Who is Sygin? It says here that she’s your wife.” you finally asked as you showed the page, oddly nervous about his answer… So far the book has been clearly wrong so why would it offend him that asked such a question?

He then frowned, trying to remember a certain Sygin… Sure, he had some fling in his youth but never had he consider marrying someone until you came along and he didn’t anyone named like that.

“I don’t know… I think she’s totally made up, mortals seems to like romance.” he finally answered.

You simply nodded, kissing his cheek before returning to the big pile of books in front of you. He did the same thing and the silence was here again.Only to be broken by Loki, nearly ten seconds after you put the book away in a box.

“What if you were Sygin?” he suddenly asked causing you to look at him with a raised eyebrows, not convinced at all.

“Loki, she’s a goddess and probably fictional …

-I know it’s silly, incoherent and probably not real but I can’t help of thinking like that… I love the ideas that our destiny are both intertwined like that.”

Loki gently took your hand in his, a small smile as well as a loving gaze on his eyes making you literally melt.

“So you’re just a big romantic?”you asked with an amused smile.

“I’m afraid that I am, my love” he answered before kissing you, the both of you totally forgetting the pile of books next to you.

[inknose]

mdzs read diary part IV, the end

It’s inspiring how much self care wwx is gonna finally get now that his husband will go along with whatever he does, so he’s gotta look out for lwj’s well being if not his own. that is emphatically the STUFF

dragging my hands down I face as I read this, after all these chapters of getting up close and personal with ghouls bleeding from every orifice, slaying ancient beasts, rebelling against the entire cultivation world, the two of them are absolutely paralyzed by middle school crush sleepover math

chicken

he actually drew kissy doodles .... he....

IDK I THINK I JUST DOCUMENTED THIS PART CUZ I WAS STILL SCREAMING you cant expect me to have very useful things to say at this point

this is torture you are both so mushy you are so GONE

This part really stood out to me, it’s an attitude I feel like wwx implies with his inner narration a few times but most clearly says here: he’s not one for allowing himself to exaggerate how bad his circumstances are/could be even a little bit - he’s already lived through some extreme low points and found a way to keep going, so he never makes sweeping statements about what he couldn’t live without (Inner JingYi: you’re supposed to say you’d be lost without him here!!!) Instead he seems to accept as a given that being alive doesn’t guarantee him any pleasantness or joy at all, and as a result his feelings toward being in TRUE LOVE are surprisingly pragmatic, but also colored with such gratitude. There are a lot of things in the novel that struck me, like this, as being just a little to the left of familiar tropes/sentiments, and were more touching for it. Whether it be the influence of culture difference as opposed to what I’m used to reading in most western romance stories, or MXTX’s unique outlook, or a combination of both, it was really refreshing and made me pause over it. Not “I can’t imagine living without you” but “I could be living without you, but instead I get to be with you and I think that’s the best thing that could happen.”

ADJFDKFJ THE UST BEING SO STRONG THAT EVEN THE VILLAIN COMMENTS ON IT IN THE MIDDLE OF EXECUTING HIS EVIL PLANS IS ONE OF THOSE THINGS THAT WILL NEVER FAIL TO MAKE ME LAUGH MY ASS OFF. hes like god damn! here I thought I had problems

it was at this moment that I realized we were doing this Now... I’m still recovering. What a scene. I am so glad I saw the most incredible fanart soon afterwards, bc the fact that someone has already drawn a perfect comic of this part means I don’t have to

I love you so much, you are so annoying, you are perfect... I like how he’s been experiencing openly requited love for all of ten minutes but he’s already figured out how to weaponize it to piss people off

doing!!! his!!! job!!!!!

ahh... it’s a really good story. JGY is a great character. One of the most interesting differences for me between drama watching vs. novel reading experience is that without an actor to bat his vulnerable doe eyes at you and smile faintly with his cute dimples, the book does not go much out of its way to try to lull the reader into a false sense of security around him or *endear* him to you the way the show does. But just by seeing events through wei wuxian’s POV, its still enough to evoke pity or understanding towards him. The overall impression is a bit more detached though, there’s less emphasis on the spectacle of how he could manipulate everyone closest to him and more of a general feeling of resigned tragedy that everyones the worst on this bitch of an earth.

I CANNOT DEAL WITH YOU FOR EVEN ONE MORE SECOND!!!!

I clearly paused to take note of less and less parts at the end & the extras due to: a) too excited to reach the end b) too spicy to photograph and c) too sleepy cuz I kept reading in the middle of the night. but I absolutely took the time for Bro We Are Teens appreciation corner:

I’d absolutely read 40 more extra chapters of their monster-of-the-week field trip antics.

god... poor Jin Ling now basically has to deal with divorced parents that talk shit about each other to him whenever he is saying with one of them. except they are both his uncles. just a disasterhood of all uncles from start to finish. AUUUGH wei wuxian and jiang cheng have fucked me up completely, I dream of them reconciling but I also REFUSE to believe it would ever be easy. let me know if theres a fanfic that absolutely tortures you for decades before they hug

HAHAHA oh no this man ain’t making it to immortality thats for damn sure. HE’S JUST GONNA TRY AS HARD AS HE CAN HIS WHOLE LIFE NOT TO LOOK AT HIM BUT THEYRE *MARRIED* SDLKFJSF ohhhh it’s too funny, like... the mundane domestic family drama IN the fantastical swords and sorcery setting is what really ratchets up these things from amusing to fucking hilarious I think

aaaa the end... final random thoughts? No not final, I would like to please keep discussing at length and exhaustively, all the time please - CQL has gotta be one of the best TV adaptations I’ve seen. ANY adaptation of anything would be lucky to be so good!! reading the novel has just made me appreciate it even more.

- I don’t think I can do justice to what I find most fascinating about comparing the two versions briefly, to do that I need to get drunk and ramble at my friends for hours but... the condensed version is something like this. Really all the significant differences between the two versions (besides the ones which can be attributed to censorship and therefore aren’t worth discussing) are a side effect of the structure of how the story is told - there’s barely anything changed arbitrarily. Aside from having a cold opening, the drama sticks to a very linear version of the story, and I think for a TV show or film, that’s probably the best way to do it. We see everything, we get shocked and tricked and betrayed and surprised along with the characters, we feel the biggest impact at the climactic scenes having experienced all the build-up. The novel on the other hand is not only much more non-linear in WHEN we learn bits and pieces of information, but that information is also obfuscated under wei wuxian’s multiple layers of Unreliable Narratoritis, which are as follows: 1) difficulty remembering things because of personality/avoiding painful memories/actual memory loss, 2) No Homo Goggles still on, and 3) a wry sense of humor that makes the reader unsure of how much they can trust his attitude toward things, especially near the beginning. The experience of reading is a puzzle the reader has to mentally piece together through all of the above listed camouflage, and the puzzle itself is a three-sided mystery: One - How Bad of a guy was Wei WuXian really, and how exactly did all the bad stuff in his life go down; Two - wangxian epic pride & prejudice gambits; Three - political murder mystery. (I love stories like this btw... though I fully admit I’m glad I watched first this time bc it might have taken me a long time to tackle otherwise.) Because of this, where the drama wants to pull you in and submerge you in all the most potent emotional parts, the novel in direct contrast deliberately side-steps around these things and asks that you hurt yourself by filling in the blanks. In fact the more intense emotions and painful memories involved, whether it be his relationship with jiang yanli, his DEATH, the darkest days of war times etc, the more the novel evasively withholds details. I actually really like both styles of storytelling but each one is obviously way better suited to its medium. ANYWAY.... THATS BASICALLY WHERE MY BRAINS AT WHILE IM READING GAY SWORD WIZARD BOOKS

- The extras are so saturated with domestic married bliss that it’s a good thing I stopped taking pictures because I’d just take a picture of every page. this is too much for me to take... I did jump the gun a few times and read a few fanfics while I was still mid-read of the book (I tried to hold out but alas I am mortal) and at one point after finishing I was like “wow what fic was it in where lwj says something cute and wwx kisses him in public but they’re in the corner of the restaurant so no one really sees... OH NO WAIT that was actually in there.” and ... and that’s the LEAST OF IT... *stares into the distance* theyre married wow

- I ofc couldn’t help but see a few vague blogs beforehand so honestly I was braced for something like, wildly ooc for the sake of porn to happen in the extras... I definitely appreciate how the incense burner porn interludes could be uhhh a lot for many people and not my personal cup of tea in terms of smut however [here follows the words of a poisonous frog who has dwelt her whole life in the rainforests of BL] the concept is also surprisingly SWEET SDFLKJF like wwx sees lan wangji’s darkest mixed-up violent teenage fantasies and he’s just like aww babe you had a crush on me!! just... good for them

- I swear I’m not gonna rehash every cute married thing they do but wei wuxian grading papers in the tub........................rEALLY GOT ME

- I want to Draw - ok thats enough if I keep going I’ll just write “wei wuxian grading papers in the tub” seven more times probably

[fandom-collective-writers]

Reader x Lucien - A Steamy Bubble Bath

Title: A Steamy Bubble Bath

Fandom: Mr. Love Queen’s Choice

Character: Lucien

Genre: ;)

Warnings: sin in the bath 

Kinks: More bathroom sex bc all of you are dirty children and need to cleanse yourselves, non conventional vibrator, slapping, edging, hair pulling, water sex, external cumshot

Intended Gender Audience: Female Audience 

Word Count: 2187 words 

Requested by: Anon!

Quote: Smut prompt #20 - “Please. I need you. Now.” 

Shameless self-promo: check out my page!

Other comments: sorry for the late posting! 😅 i really thought that it submitted earlier, but for some reason it didnt and i woke up in a fury, realized it didnt post, so here i am at 1:30 with smut :’) hope you enjoy it!

Lucien is sitting on the couch when you enter the apartment. Keys jingling in your hands, you round the corner and drop your purse on the counter. He looks up from his book and smiles upon seeing you. “Welcome home,” Lucen greets with a gentle voice as he shuts his book. 

         You can’t help but smile at him as you kick off your heels and pad over to him. Your socks glide against the hardwood floors, but you catch yourself against the couch and lean over to take a peak at Lucien’s book. “You’re reading that again?” 

         He sets it down on the coffee table and stands up. “What’s wrong with rereading a favourite?” Lucien tips his head to the side, giving you one of his irresistible grins. 

         “Nothing! You just sure love it a lot…” A giggle escapes your lips. “I’m going to take a bath. It has been a long day of running around, chasing people, and I’m so tired now.” 

         Lucien leans over the couch, extending his hand so that the tips of his fingers brush against your chin. “Make sure to wash behind your ears,” he comments as his thumb grazes your lips. Your lipgloss had long since dried up, but when he pulled back, you see the faint sparkle of glitter lingering on his skin. 

         Taking a sharp breath, you reign back your thoughts and twirl around on the ball of your foot. Lucien was likely just trying to tease you – as he always does. It is not uncommon for him to say strange things, and then to follow by doing something that throws your mind into the gutter. That is just… Lucien’s strange way of showing affection, and you do not mind. 

         Humming to yourself, you make your way through the bedroom, until you reach the bathroom. After turning on the water, you go to search for some bubble bath, hoping that it would help you relax after the long day you endured. You pour a generous amount of the pearly liquid into the water and then proceed to strip your clothes and kick them into your room (you plan to pick them up later). 

         Tying your hair up, you test the water to find it perfectly warm. Sighing softly, you sit down and press your back against the edge. As you drag your hand through the water, the bubbles swirl around and expand – it is not long before you have a mountain of bubbles surrounding you. 

         Your eyelids droop, but when you hear a soft rap at the door, you sit up and answer. 

         Lucien opens the door, and you are surprised to see him against the frame wearing only a loose towel around his waist. The fabric clings to his hips and sways as he walks forward. Without saying anything, Lucien takes a seat next to the bathtub and rests his elbow on the edge. “I don’t suppose that you would mind if I joined you? I am sure that I could help you destress.” 

         His voice alone makes you feel more at ease – there is just something to his intonation that reminds you of viscous honey dripping from his sharp tongue. Of course, you could decline, but you would not dream of turning him away. 

         “Towels aren’t allowed in here though,” you say with a smirk, eyeing the white cloth. “So if you want in, you’ll have to lose it.” 

         A smirk pulls at the corners of his mouth, and Lucien stands up slowly. It takes only takes Lucien to slip a digit under the seam of the towel and suddenly – you never get tired of seeing his naked body, and this is no exception. His toned torso is always an inviting sight: his pale skin does not detract from the muscles in his arms and chest, nor does it distract you from the sharp v that leads down to… 

         “You’re staring,” Lucien trills before stepping over the discarded towel. He turns the water off and joins you in the bathtub. It is a tight fit with Lucien sitting across from you, but he picks up your legs and holds them together, making more room for himself.

         “It’s not like you’re shy.” 

         Lucien smirks at you before gripping your ankle and lifting your leg to his lips. “No…” He plants tender kisses to your skin, trailing his lips down until he reaches your knee.  You had barely realized that Lucien was also pulling you closer to him with every kiss. He sees the momentary distress on your face and releases your leg, allowing you to tuck it next to him. 

         “You like it when I watch you–” 

         Lucien’s eyes go wide with surprise for a split second, but then he smiles again. Instead of replying with a witty comment, like you think he is going to going to, Lucien leans forward and crawls over you. He presses his entire body weight against you – enough that you can feel every crevice of his abs grinding against you despite the buoyant effect of the water. “And you like to watch, don’t you?” 

         Again, his voice envelops you like thick nectar, trapping you in place with your jaw hanging open. Your mind goes blank when he dips his head down low enough that his nose grazes your jaw. He prods you gently, coaxing you to lift your head and expose your neck for him. Shifting a bit, you tilt your head against the bathtub wall, causing your hair to sink into the water. Lucien is quick to nip the soft skin before rubbing his tongue against you. He hums with happiness and then catches your chin with three digits. 

         “Won’t you let me wash you?” 

         It is a strange request, but you do not hesitate to respond. A quick yes tumbles from your lips, to which Lucien purrs at. He grips you tightly with both hands, pulling you out of the water and pinning you against the edge of the bathtub. The porcelain digs into your side, but Lucien quickly adjusts you so that your ass is up in the air for him to see. 

         Bubbles cling to your cunt, but slip down your leg, exposing your folds to Lucien. You expect him to drag his tongue along you, but instead, you hear Lucien shuffling around and starting the faucet again. A quick glance over your shoulder allows you to see him changing the setting on the removable shower head. He picks it up from the stand and grips the handle tightly. 

         “L-Lucien,” you start, sitting up slightly. 

         He rests a strong hand on the back of your neck, wrapping your wet hair around his fingers. After tutting you softly, Lucien pushes your knees apart slightly, allowing him to fit the shower head between your thighs. The jet stream is on the strongest, most concentrated setting, and Lucien tips it so that the water hits your clit directly. “Don’t fuss. You need to be washed.” You can feel him smiling innocently behind you. “Unless you want me to stop…” 

         You shake your head vigorously, just as you feel your knees slip on the bathtub floor. Around you, the soap bubbles are beginning to pop and fade from the surface. You never realized how strong the shower was – it is not that you had never considered using it for other purposes, but you never got around to actually trying it. The fact that Lucien knew to use it.. that is just Lucien. 

         Moans fall from your lips as you grind against the shower head. You have lost all shame and just really want to cum at this point, but Lucien is not so forgiving. When you slip further down, causing your lower half to fall into the water, the shower falls from his grip and sprays onto the ground. 

         Lucien clicks his tongue and drops his hand into the water to rub two fingers against your folds. Despite being in the water, he can clearly feel the arousal dripping from your cunt. “Still not slick enough… well, are you going to sit up or not?” 

         Exhaling shakily, you do as you are indirectly told. The water was warmer though, and now, with your body in the cool air again, goosebumps cover your skin. “Lucien, please–” 

         Upon hearing his name, Lucien leans over and tucks his face in the crook of your neck. “I’m being thorough. Would you rather me enter you dry?”

         The bluntness of his words cuts through you deeply, and you nearly choke on your own saliva as it pools into your mouth. Before you can respond, Lucien returns the shower head to your clit. It pulsates against you, sending you closer to your edge until, finally, the pressure builds up in your abdomen and you feel it about to explode. 

         Rolling your hips against the metal, you tighten your grip on the porcelain edge, whining and whimpering painfully for release. If you weren’t putting up such a show, Lucien would have been impartial to edging you a few more times. But he decides that he has had enough fun and begins to drag the shower back and forth against your folds. This added stimulation drives you insane, so you bite the inside of your mouth and wait for your orgasm to hit you. 

         When it does, you fall forward, arms hanging limp over the bathtub. You convulse from the power of the orgasm and struggle to catch your breath again. As you ride it out, Lucien releases the shower head, letting it dangle from the wall, and brings you into his lap. 

         Despite your dazed state, there is no mistaking the erection that is pressed against the small of your back. Leaning your head back, you meet Lucien’s eyes, and mewl softly, “Please.” It catches him off guard really, because your voice is so soft. “I need you. Now.” 

         Again, he smiles, pleased with your pleading. “I do believe you are prepped enough now…” He lifts you carefully, spreading your still trembling legs apart. Your hole welcomes him easily, and he waits little for the formalities of adjusting. He tucks his slender fingers around your jaw as the other presses against your stomach to keep you in place. 

         With every thrust, the two of you send waves rippling through the water, making it splash over the edge. All the bubbles have disappeared, leaving the water slightly murky. It does not bother you at this point – you are too focused on rolling your hips in every which direction that will allow the tip of his cock to hit your most intimate spot. 

         Despite not usually being one for explicit dirty talk, Lucien whispers praises into your ear, fueling you to go faster. However, the water is not on your side, and actually retards your efforts to climax again. You are too caught up in the moment to think about trying something different, until Lucien tucks your hair up and kisses your neck. His surprisingly gentle touch brings you back to reality, and you listen to him. “Don’t fight the water. Flow with it. Like this,” he whispers, thrusting upwards. The water pushes outwards away from him, and you time your next body roll for the moment after he thrusts. Lucien moans in your ear, a rare sound, but you know that it means you did something right. 

         He kisses your shoulder blades as his hand trails down your body. From the corner of your eye, you can see him smirking devilishly, and you know it means trouble. Lucien pinches your still numb clit, making you lean back into him and relax your muscles. 

         “Are you going to cum?” 

         A meek yes is all you can manage as you feel the onset bliss settling into your body. With a few quick thrusts, you reach your bliss again – this time, you moan Lucien’s name as you climax though. Your walls pulate and clench around Lucien, making him grunt deeply.

         At the last second, Lucien pulls out of you, leading him to cum into the water. You open your eyes and watch the slivers of pure white float around in the water. It makes your stomach flip to see it, so you cover your eyes and turn into Lucien’s chest. His heart is beating furiously, but he wraps his arms around you and holds you tight. 

         The bath water is no longer warm, but Lucien’s skin is, so you let him pet you for a few minutes before he shifts around. “We should probably actually wash now–” he says before giving your ass a playful smack. “You’ve made a mess of yourself.” Lucien tucks your damp hair behind your ear. “And you forgot to wash behind your ears.” 

         You scoff and laugh at his comment before sitting up to drain the tub and fill it with new water. The light reflects off of the bathroom tiles, and you realize that the two of you have made quite the mess indeed. Water and bubbles cover the floor, and – is that water splashed onto the mirror?! 

[otterbeesfanficblog]

Enough to make a wolf howl

Bigby x Male reader

A/n: I’ve wanted so badly to write an x male reader for so long, bc let's be honest, there is not enough of these in any fandom. I’m genderfluid but that doesn’t mean I haven’t fallen into the ‘Only female’ writing. so here is something for our favorite Big Bad Wolf bc come on, there ain’t enough fics about him anyway.

{Gif is not mine}

“Y/n? Could you help me for a moment, I need you to translate this.”

You turned your head to your good friend Snow, who at the moment had four or five ancient tomes open on her desk. 

Since you started working for Snow, who had taken Crane's place, everything was going well as her personally magic provider. Though people were still recovering since those terrible events back a few months ago, things were slowly getting better. 

You were tasked with supplying fables their well-needed glamour, being the sorcerer that you are, even the ones at the farm. 

You had made it a thing that you would give each fable a free bottle of glamour, and they could all get a free refill every other month making them use it sparingly. 

And you were a man at your word, the quality of the spell would get them over their refill time if they used it wisely. You're too offended by the idea of a bad quality spell, you often went weeks without sleep to make sure spells were better than best. 

It was a good thing that you are proud you came up with, it not only told them that you were far more giving than the other witches that sold them before but also teaching them not to take you for granted. 

All in all, you walked hand in hand with Snow and Bigby a lot, which had lead to you and Bigby's eventual relationship. 

You both were quick to like the other, you both favored alone time together with someone, and it didn't take long for you both to put a label on it, and it was a little daunting at first. Not only was the sheriff of the town dating his coworker, but a dating a man nonetheless. 

It wasn't like it was forbidden or frowned upon for men to have a relationship, but it wasn't quite often you would see it. Especially in Fabletown. 

Nevertheless, everyone mostly grew used to it, mostly knowing you as the only one to be able to… Tame the big bad wolf. 

Snow was the first was to quell those who teased, but she herself seemed to love to ferret out the juicy gossip from you while you both worked together. 

There was one time you had told her something along the lines of scandalous about Bigby just as Bigby himself walked in the room. 

The blush on her face turned her white as snow skin to red as strawberries as you both giggled away, while your boyfriend stood in a bemused state, which only made you two laugh even more as he titled his head like a confused puppy. 

Snow was you and Bigby's best friend, having known you both for a long time. While knowing you, she and Bigby also know of your… Interesting sense of humor. 

Sometimes they would understand it, sometimes they couldn't, sometimes it was crude, and sometimes it was just downright not amusing (but the face you make is what pulls out a smile from time to time). That didn't stop you, however, to make jokes at your two favorite people. 

Ever. 

“How may I help ya, Snowflakes?”

She rolled her pretty eyes and shook her head at you while you strolled over, coming to a stop next to her. She pointed at the books on the table, waving her hands about while doing so. 

“I know you have studied all kinds of magic, so I was hoping you could translate all of this for me. Bufkin is asleep, drunk. And I would have gotten it done myself by now, but,” she let out a sigh and straightened up turning to you. 

“The place I am ordering the print from went under construction.”

You smile at her, waving a hand in the air, glancing the books over then turn to her once again. 

“Oh, don't worry too much, I'm sure… “ 

You then smirk at her, which was a telltale sign to anyone that a joke comes soon after. 

“Someday your prints will come~”

You could feel your grin take over your face as you bit your lip and try so desperately to keep in your snickers, but alas, the look on her face was far too much for you and you gave into the bubbling feeling in your chest. She watched you reel back and grab the table for support of your laughing fit as she brought her hand up her face, giving a little facepalm. 

Despite her best efforts, she couldn't overcome the blush rising to her face, or the smile that took over her face. 

“ Ha ha, Y/n. Very funny.”

“Thank you!”

 You quick stand back up, the same bright smile on your face that told her you were more than ready with another one. She gathered up her papers while you spoke.

 “I knew you would be the best judge for my jokes.”

She lets out a sigh from her nose, turning to see you waiting for her to speak. The door opened right as she does speak. 

“And why is that?”

“Because! You're the fairest of them all!”

You then break into another fit of laughter as Bigby comes and stands behind you, a brow raised at you then to Snow who shaking her head as she passed by him to the office door. 

“Very funny, thank you for translating them for me, I'll be back for them later.”

You had tears in your eyes from laughing too hard as you turn to her direction, Bigby moving out of the way a little so you could see her and only watching you as you called after her. 

“Oh yeah, it's snow problem!”

She groans as she closed the door leaving behind a giggling sorcerer and his wolf boyfriend who at the moment only shook his head, a ghost smile gracing his face as he looked onto you. 

“Are those really that funny to you?”

“Of course they are,” you blinked away the tears, giggling a few more times then look to the books with tired eyes, holding your hands above the books on the desk. 

Your hands glow a bright blue, the color taking over and shining out of your eyes as well. Bigby has seen you use your magic on occasion, it was never very often as you had told him it makes you tired quickly. 

The words peel off the pages over the book in light blue color then start being translated mid-air as you speak to him, a smile still on your face. 

“So, howl ya doin' today, Wolfie?”

Bigby rolls his eyes, taking out his pack of Huff & Puff and taking one in his mouth, sitting down in the chair at the desk. 

“Broke up another fight today. You'd think after all that shit a few months ago people would change, but no. We all stay the fuckin same.”

You hum, moving your hands over the sheets of blank printing paper Snow had left out for you, transferring the translated words onto the page. And all too familiar smirk graces your lips Bigby lights his cigarette. 

“Hmm, sounds Ruff darlin'. Hope they didn't dog you too badly.”

“Do you write these down somewhere and memorize them?”

You chuckle at his reaction, letting your hands drop as you finish the transfer. You close all the books and turn and layout on your back on Snow's desk, smiling tiredly up at your big bad wolf. 

“I do sometimes, just if I know I won't see that person soon. I have puns for everyone, but my mind is a maze of magic spells and positions, but don't worry,” 

Even upside down you can reach his nose, that you give a little tap with your finger.

“Half my mind is full of you.”

Bigby pulled out his cig and blow the smoke in the air instead of at you, he knows how the smoke can give you headaches. He smirks down at you, bringing his face very close to yours, to the point you can feel his breath and smell his intoxicating cologne. 

“Only half? Maybe I'll have to change that to all of your mind.”

You smile, half-lidded eyes staring up at him as he takes another drag and blows it out. 

“Oh, and how's that sheriff? I'm afraid you'll have to spell it out for me.”

He reaches over you and puts out his cigarette, gently taking you head by the back of your neck so your head wasn't hanging over the side and smirked down at you. 

“Gladly, sweetheart.”

Then you feel his lips on yours, albeit you were upside down, but it wasn't being upside down that made blood rush to your head. You reach your hands up and pull him closer by his cheek, brushing over his ever-present stubble, making his chest rumble in satisfaction.

That was until the office phone started ringing, which made him growl and your groan in disappointment. 

He gently let your head go and stood up, walking around the desk to the phone. 

You sat up on your elbows as you stopped him from picking up the phone by putting your leg over it. Bigby raises a brow at you as you tilt your head to the side. 

“What? Can't you see I'm already on the phone, Bigs?”

With that, you chuckle as he pushes your leg off and answers the phone. 

“Sheriff Wolf here, how can I help?— And where is this? —.” You see him drag a hand down his face, a sigh leaving his lips when he nods his head. 

“Alright, I'll be right there.”

Hanging up the phone you watch Bigby ran a hand through his long hair, you scoot closer to him on the desk and kiss the back of his arm before he can drop it down to his side. 

He gives you a look and pulls out his Huff & Puffs, you smile at him. 

“What is it this time?”

He sighs and lights his cig, taking a drag from it and blowing the smoke before looking at you again. 

“Some magic users are getting rowdy at the ‘Open Arms'. Apparently, it's a big problem.”

“How Bigby?”

He doesn't even bother rolling his eyes as you giggle away, him turning to the door and walking to the exit. 

“Are you coming, or are you going to stand around telling bad puns all day?”

You giggle again, straightening your dress shirt and tie as you follow close behind, smirking. 

“Depends. Would standing around making bad puns get me to come, or does a big bad wolf want that privilege himself?”

You could tell the dirty joke worked as he took a long drag of his cig and his cheekbones started to turn a slight shade of red every passing moment, and you simply laughed and latched on to his arm as you two make your way to the elevator. 

“Hehe, we’ll continue this when we get home.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It didn't take you two too long to get to the Open Arms, but you could hear the fighting from outside. You could also see flashes of magic from the window facing the street, which made your grip on Bigby's hand a little tighter. 

You were never a fan of other magic users especially witches, their name is even one letter off from what they really are. Every witch you have ever met always wanted something from some, their greed and pompous attitudes left you with a sour taste in your mouth.

 However, there weren't many male magic users in Fabletown, so your ‘magic family' was limited to all females. It's wasn't fun to know the only ones you can talk to about magic are them. 

“You okay to go in?” Bigby’s broke your inner thoughts, pulling you back to reality. “You can wait out here if you want, I know how much you hate other magic users.”

“Hates a strong word, Bigs” you smile at him, running a hand through your head, then set a glare on the building, specifically the widow of flashing magic. 

“I prefer the word ‘loathe', much stronger than ‘hate'.” You sigh then turn your gaze back to your boyfriend, who was looking at you with a ghost smile. 

“No, I'll go in. Who am I to not want to watch someone get witch slapped.”

At this Bigby groaned, lightly pushing passed you and opened the door, waiting for you to go in first. 

As you walked through the door you gently kissed his nose, giving him a thank you which you knew he was trying so desperately not to jump you at the moment. 

Going up the stairs and into the open hallway, you saw the door at the end of the hall flashing lights from under the door. You both took long strides to get to the door, Bigby balling up his fist and banging on the door. 

“Hey, open up!”

The door swung up not because someone was opening it, no, one of the witches who was fighting pulled the door off its hinges with her magic which made you and Bigby take a step back. She flung it at the other witch, who used a disintegration spell and the door fell to ashes on the floor, which only made both girls even angrier. 

“HEY!” Bigby used his booming voice, stepping into the room and standing between the two. “That's enough! Now what the hell is—”

“STAY OUT OF THIS!!”

 Both witches cried out, throwing up their hands and pointing it at Bigby, and before you could do anything, they sent him flying out the window. 

“BIGBY!!” 

You called out in fear, but that fear was quickly replaced by rage. You hair started floating and your eyes burn a bright red, you glared at them and used your magic to pick them up. 

“Don't. You. Dare. Touch. My. Man. You. Bitches.”

You lifted your hands and smacked their heads on the ceiling, the clapped your hands together making the slamming into each other. Knocking their head on the ceiling and the other one's head, they were knocked out cold as you dropped their limp bodies to the floor. 

They weren't dead, you made sure of that, but just in case they did wake up, you traced a dispel magic rune on them that can only be broken by you. You ran to the broken window to see Bigby still lying on the ground, moving slightly, but still. 

You use a levitation spell as you jump out the window, letting yourself down gently before running over to Bigby, kneeling down and frantically checking him. 

“Bigby! Are you okay?!”

“Yeah… “ he groaned on the ground, shaking his hand around. 

“I'm fine… Why is it always windows with people?” 

You gasp as he sits up, a large piece of clear, now blood covered, glass was jutting out of his side, and though you have seen Bigby hurt before, it still doesn't mean you get used to it. 

“Bigby! Don't move, I can—”

“I got it.” And with that said, he grabs the end of it and pulls it right out, which make you quickly put your hand over the wound and gasp. 

“BIGBY!! You can't just pull it out! Are you crazy?! Do you want to bleed out?!”

“Sorry sweetheart,” he chuckles, then puts the glass between you and him, making you look at him through the glass. 

“Guess you could… See right through me.”

. . . . . . . .

. . . . . . .

. . . . . .

. . . . .

. . . .

. . .

. .

.

Bigby bursts out laughing, a hearty chest laugh that you don't often get to hear. 

You, hands now covered in your laughing boyfriend's blood, look at him in astonishment. 

Then you punch his arm. 

“Ow, what—”

“Really?! Right now?!” 

Bigby was expecting another hit as you lifted your arms, but you only threw yourself into his chest in a deep hug, a laugh now coming from you. He hears you sniffle once, then you pull away from him. 

Your eyes glossy with tears to be, but that amazing smile that Bigby loves so much was also gracing your face. 

“you're an idiot… But that was a good one.”

“Ha, yeah, you could say it was… Enough to make a wolf howl with laughter.”

“I will put that piece of glass back in.”

“Hey, Y/n?”

“Yes, Bigby?”

“I love you.”

“Then shut up and show me, wolf.”

[sukunasdirtylaugh]

Romanian Assassin

Word count: 1.3k

Summary: Okay...so the title is pretty self explanatory, right? Do you like laughing until your stomach hurts, crying bc of feels, and feeling this wave of happiness once the characters you ship are finally together? Well honey, that’s what you’re getting I mean, who doesn’t love a sexy ‘Romanian’ speaking Assassin in a suit? This ain’t no Twilight honey.

WARNING: The following chapter(s) may include: Frustration, feels, mental tears, shook ovaries, and the feeling of wanting to rip the hair out of your fucking skull (Please don’t). SIDE EFFECTS may include: A sore abdomen from laughing too hard (might as well get that 6-pack, right?) lady feels, sore eyes from crying (as if we haven’t cried already) and ultra mega happiness. 

READ AT YOUR OWN RISK. THIS CHAPTER WILL BE SOFT BUT WILL HAVE YOU SHOOK okay? (also, pls tell me what you think pls)

My partner had happened to be this incredibly tall-roughly 6ft tall- handsome, with ultramarine deep blue eyes, and a nose that could easily be compared to a Greek’s. His jawline was sharp, just like the knives located under his shoes and sleeves and a tongue that could only speak fluent and quick Romanian. 

Working as an assassin, you could either 1). Work for someone by protecting a certain individual or 2). Kill a dangerous target that would harm others. 

“I’m so exhausted!” Proclaimed our current client, Kiara. 

“I’m going to be taking a shower.” said the woman with a smooth and sultry voice. She turned around and her -not so natural brown curls- followed her as her white silky robe was starting to fall off her shoulders as if she wanted me and my partner to see. I look up to see her and smile at her as her eyes are focused on my partner who didn’t seem to pay any attention to her sitting from the couch.

He sharpened the considerably large pocket knife in his hand, running the blade against the steel rod in his grasp quietly before he paused, his broad shoulders tense as he turned his head up to look at us when he felt our stares, his face etched with slight irritation.

I look back at Kiara and notice that she dared to look at Sebastian-the two of them seemingly exchanging looks leaving me like a monkey in the middle. She bit her bottom lip and exposed her shoulders and moved her brown blonde hair to her side implying that she may need help. 

Did she need to be supervised? I could look after her. 

Anything could happen really. She could slip and break her head, the shower head could break her skull or she could have a heart attack in there. You never know with clients you know.

My partner looked at her-calculating and his eyes  flicker down to her chest before going back to his knife sharpening and yawns and continues doing what he was doing in an uninterested gesture. 

Kiara looked more than disappointed and drew her breath after the rejection.

 Oh no. 

“Uh here,” I said reaching into my bag-her look now on me as I grabbed a few bottles of shampoo and hair conditioning from my weapon bag and hand them to her. 

“They’ve got the best scents and I really like the bottles this hotel carries, I mean, have you seen such a butterfly design like that? It looks real! I got as many as I could but don’t worry! I left as many thank you notes for the maids,” I explained as I showed her my multiple sticky notes and thank you notes that I take with me at all times. 

She didn’t say anything before scoffing and turning her heel away from me and slamming the door behind her shut leaving me and my partner alone.

“Okay!” I wave with a small smile, “I hope you like them!” I say as I look back to the mint wrapper in my hand. 

This hotel gave out the best pillow mints! I even ate Kiara and Sebastian’s mints and I don’t think they minded though...or so I hope not. 

“Hey partner,” I say as I greet him, his eyes still focused on sharpening his knife.

 “ I know you only speak Romanian but can you believe this is our first mission together?” I ask, “I’m glad we got our client to her destination and it feels like it was just yesterday you were cracking your knuckles looking like you wanted to punch me. Crazy, right?” I laugh at the fond memory of us in Robert’s office.

“Yeah just like that!” I point out with a smile as he cracks his knuckles again, the two rings on his hands emphasizing his muscular hands. 

“I know you don’t understand me but I made you this,” I say as I place a sticky note in front of him on the table that reads 

“vă mulțumesc partener” in Romanian (thank you partner). 

He sent me a blank stare after looking at it making me give him a small smile in return. 

“Nu suntem parteneri,” Sebastian finally spoke out (we are not partners).

I stare at him taking in the moment and remind myself to breathe. 

“Oh wow, sorry. It’s just that you never say anything and I just wanted to appreciate the moment. But hey, I’m happy we are talking so that’s definitely progress.” I celebrated nodding with another small smile and extend my hand in hopes of getting a high five. 

Sebastian then proceeds to get up and walk away without any warning ignoring my hand. 

Do not, I repeat, don’t cringe or curl up into a ball from rejection. He spoke to you today! You should be ecstatic! 

“Okay not in the mood? That’s fine! We can try another time. Whenever you’re ready!” I call out already noticing that he left the room before I could finish my words. 

“Progress.” I say quietly and high five myself in reward. 

Before I could do anything else, I hear a noticeable hard bump from the shower and see Kiara out.

“Oh my gosh are you okay?” I ask her as she’s gripping into her loose towel. 

Can’t have the wife of a mafia boss hurt, can I?

“You’ve got a bruise!” I point out. “Do you want me to check it?”

“No!” She says quickly, “uhh, what I mean is, I’d love some help, but can you call Sebastian please?”

“Oh he’s in his room but I’m here now. I can check it now if you want-“

“No!” She said breaking off character, “What I mean is that I’d like for him to check my wound.” She says with a sheepish smile.

 “Oh but I’m here now! Wouldn’t you want me to-“

“Trust me,” she says, “I’d feel much more comfortable if Sebastian checked it out.”

“Oh okay,” I say nodding in comprehension. Maybe it was a trust thing?

 “Hey Sebastian, Kiara wants you-“ I blurt out as I walk into his room to find Sebastian completely shirtless by the window-a wall mirror on the side as he’s cleaning up a wound. 

“Hey why didn’t you tell me?” I said in a soft voice. Nearing him closer, I notice him giving me a look as if to scare me off. 

“Don’t give me that look Mr.Grumpy-Pants. I know we have a language barrier going on here and we can’t really communicate but you could have at least shown me you were hurt or at least in pain you know?” I say as I’m already addressing his wound. He draws in a barely noticeable sharp breath when I put some alcohol in his wound with a cotton ball. He’s in pain. 

“Thank you for taking the bullet for me,” I say after a moment of silence still dabbing the Cotton ball lightly on his skin. “Nobody has ever taken a bullet for me-only you…” 

He didn’t reply as I slowly finished stitching him. 

I giggle, “You know, I could tell you just about anything and you still probably wouldn’t have any idea as to what I’m saying?”

“I could tell you about my short lived romance with young Leonardo Dicaprio and writing fanfiction when I was 14. I swear his hair back in Titanic was the death of me,” I sigh at the memory. “Those were the days man.” 

“Or I could tell you about the time when I had my own fan based blog on this one guy I had a total crush on. Guess what? I had the biggest crush on him. And do you wanna know something else?” I asked him as I notice him looking away sighing in an uninterested manner, “I didn’t even know him! He was a celebrity!”

“I could tell you anything right now you know? Hey, did you know I’m wearing a black thong which I don’t usually wear at home but I always wear them during missions to make me feel powerful?” I commented as I shrugged as if it was nothing before noticing that Sebastian was suddenly choking  (see the image for reference) on his water, lowering his head and spitting the liquid before wiping his fleshy pink lips turning to look at me with a hint of amusement in his blue eyes. 

I blinked at him in realization. 

“...Can you...can you understand me-?”

“(Y/N)! What’s taking you so Goddamn long?! I need Sebastian! My chest is hurting!” Kiara’s cry was heard all the way from the hallway interrupting my question as I turn my head in the direction of her voice. 

“Oh right.” I say, “Kiara needs you.” I exclaim as I feel like such a bad person for forgetting and immediately reach for my handy-dandy Berlitz Romanian Picture Dictionary when I feel Sebastian’s stare on my forehead. 

“Uh help! Kiara needs...Ajutor! Ajutor! Kiara needs Ajutor with-“ I say as I am frantically skimming the book with my hands anxiously before Sebastian grabbed me and pulled me up to face him; then taking the book in his hands. 

There was a slight smirk on his face as he skimmed the pages before looking up to me and pointing at me with his index finger. 

“Prost fata,” he says. (Dumb girl). 

“Me, me I’m Prost fata.” I reiterate with an uncertain tone and point at myself as he’s nodding. 

“Da, bum tampit.” (Yes, good idiot). He says with a look of approval before I beam at him with what lasts a few seconds of pure happiness before I look down to my book to see the definition of what tampit was.

“Hey I’m not an idiot.” I defended as my smile falls at the realization of what Sebastian had just called me. He then proceeds to take the book from my hands into his before smacking me lightly in the forehead with it making me let out a small “ow” and puts the book in my hands as he heads his way out to Kiara’s room. 

I gazed at the room and rub my forehead.

I am not an idiot. 

My phone suddenly vibrates letting me know something is wrong and as soon as I look into the camera display system I set up, three men in black are heading their way up here. 

“I got this,” I say to myself before reaching for my gun on my way out but stop in the hall to hear the commotion in Kiara’s room.

It was Sebastian talking and it made me completely stop me in my steps to hear him. 

He was speaking fluent English.

My mouth fell open as I closed my mouth before running outside to take care of the men. I rest my head on the outside of the suite door in shock. Before I know it, the three men are already inside and I frown. I take my gun out to shoot one man on the head and immediately  hold a “shhh!” motion to them, stopping them in the middle of their tracks; confusion filling their faces.

Talk about terrible timing.

Before the other two could even shoot, I fire at the other man in black leaving one. I quickly shoot his hand and he falls to his knees. 

"I’m Sorry about that but shh... I'm trying to listen." I whispered, looking around at his two dead allies on the ground before I moved the both of us back in front of Kiara’s door, my gun still held to his skull and my hand still over his lips.

"It is my duty as your protector is to deliver you safely back home without any injuries. It is your job as a client, is to not make such attempts at getting me to fuck you just because your idiotule of a husband can't do it right." Sebastian’s firm raspy voice spoke through the door as my eyes widened, his voice just as slow, sensuous, and authorative when he spoke in English as he did in fluent Romanian. 

“Wow... did you know he spoke English?” I ask as I’m already on him as he furiously shakes his head no. 

“Same here buddy.”

Suddenly, the door erupted with men. One saying “There they are!” As they barged in and began to point their guns at me. 

“Seriously? There’s more of you guys?” I asked at the man in my hold.

Swiftly, I moved the man I just called buddy as a body shield to doge the dozens of bullets. I mentally apologized to him. 

“You bitch!” The man who seemed to be the leader of the pack yelled coming for me as he threw his gun away running out of bullets. He’s quick and doesn’t waste a second to pin me to the wall in a choke hold. 

This is it. I’m going to die. 

“We’re finally getting rid of people like you.” He spoke as tears blurred my vision.

“See you in Hell.” Another voice spoke before the man in front of me had a hole in the middle of his forehead and fell to the ground releasing me instantly. 

“Didn’t your mother ever tell you it was rude to eavesdrop, fata?” 

“I’m sorry.” I say immediately before stopping myself and realizing that I shouldn’t be sorry. 

“Wait a darn hecking second, no. No I’m not. I’m not sorry.”

Sebastian looked at me-motioning me that there was someone creeping up behind me and with strength, I brought the hitman’s arm over my shoulder and flipped him to his back as he let out a paint full groan before Sebastian shot the man in the head with no second thought. 

“Like I said,” I paused catching my breath, “I’m not sorry.”

I then noticed more men enter the entrance and Sebastian immediately went through them as I joined him between kicks, dodges, and gunshots. 

“You...deliberately pretended that you didn’t speak a word of English,” I said through heavy breathing as I had a man in a headlock. Sebastian didn’t waste time in grabbing the man from my arms before throwing the man onto the upcoming men with an unexplainable strength. 

“It’s going to take a lot for you to gain my trust back,” I half heartedly said. 

He panted as his chest noticeably rose and grabbed his gun to further shoot the men that had fallen. 

“That’s fine by me,” he said as if he couldn’t care less before he grabbed the wrist of one man and twisted his arm before pushing him harshly against the wall; his body weight on the man from keeping him from moving. 

“Okay I forgive you,” I say almost instantly grabbing a man by the shoulders and slamming his head against the table- knowing that I still wanted to talk to Sebastian and ask him more questions. If I would be mad at him, I couldn’t ask him any questions so forgiving him seemed like the best option. 

“But why did you pretend?” I asked. 

Sebastian huffed, “Well it seemed like the best option at the time. I thought you wouldn’t talk to me because of the language barrier and we would just work on this mission and then no more communicating.” He said as he looked at all the dead bodies in the room and pools of blood forming. Surprisingly, there was no blood on his suit or hands at all. He looked at the mess and shook his head before saying that we needed to get out of here. 

“I was obviously wrong about that,” he commented with a slight look of irritation as he furrowed his eyebrows before shaking his head once more; dismissing his thoughts. 

I was ready to give him a piece of my mind. How I felt, and how I wanted to tell him that he was a meanie but he didn’t give me a chance to speak up. 

“Veni, come. We have got to get out of here before anyone else gets here.” Sebastian directed not even looking back at me putting his gun smoothly in his black ironed pants before using his hand and jerked his fingers in a gesture for me to follow him. 

“I’m not going anywhere!” Screeched a voice. That voice was Kiara’s. She was now fully dressed with some damp hair strands surrounding her face. 

“That wasn’t a question for permission. We are leaving now.” Said Sebastian sternly as he packed his guns in his black bag-swiftly zipping them up.

 “Well I’m not going. Especially with a man like you-“

“Da, of course. A man like me. A man that works for you and a man that just risked his life saving your life.” He said as he looked my way. “Hold on, make it two. Two people risking their lives for yours.”

“You’re so rude! So disrespectful! So-“

Sebastian immediately speed walked his way angrily towards her and his face was merely inches from her. His index finger threatening stood out as if to make a point. 

“Disrespectful? Fine. The moment you finally find what you call ‘self-respect’ is, you call me. Then, I’ll apologize and respect you, femeie.” (woman). 

He slowly backed off away from her and Kiara noticeably sunk down in her chair.

 A few moments passed before I thought it was okay to speak up. 

“Come on, sweetie. You should come. We don’t want you hurt and we want to keep you as safe as a pillow.” I say as I give her a small warm smile, “Go on, pack your bags and we’ll be here for you, okay?” I say before she nodded saying nothing more and leaving quickly from the scene. 

After that, Sebastian turned to me and grazed his eyes to my lower region. A small smirk crept up on his lips and I could swear this was the closest thing to smiling I could ever get to. 

He bit his lip slowly and his eyes met my face. 

“So...black thongs…” he commented in a slower and deeper voice. Sebastian brought his hand slowly to his lips and massaged the bottom part as if he was thinking of something. I sharply inhaled. 

“I saw you more as a granny pantie kind of girl.” He admitted. 

“Oh no silly,” I said letting off what seemed to be both a sigh and nervous laugh. “Those are my period panties!” I waved off the thought and noticed Kiara come in with her case. 

Sebastian looked at me with confused looking brows-dismissing the thought, then looked at Kiara. He then nodded before speaking up.

“We need to get on the road, now.” He commanded sending chills down my spine and I looked over to Kiara. Her face white as a ghost’s as a red laser dot lay on her forehead. Sebastian and I both sprung into action and before I knew it, I fell a wave of instant dozing sleep consume me. The last two things on my mind were the fact that Sebastian didn’t only speak Romanian but English as well, and the feeling of falling into a pit of blackness that we call sleep. 

==========

A/N: WOOHOOO! CHAPTER ONE IS DONE! I’M SO HAPPY TO SHARE THIS WITH YOU GUYS AND DISCLAIMER, THE IDEA ISN’T FULLY MINE. I HAVE THE NASTY MENTAL HABIT OF USING SOME IDEAS FROM STUFF I READ AND WATCH AND END UP MAKING SOMETHING LIKE THIS haha. but in all seriousness, what did you think? I’d love to know your expectations for the next chapter or just how this made you feel and what parts did you like? thank you!

[tevotbegotnaught]

“The conductor…in the power he has over others…it is in his interest as a human being, as well as that of his musical achievements, to resist the temptation to misuse it. Tyranny can never bring to fruition artistic-or for that matter human- gifts; subordination under a despot does not make for joy in one’s music-making. Intimidation deprives the musician of the full enjoyment of his talent and proficiency. Yet I should certainly not want to impugn the employment of earnest severity or even the occasional borrowing of the Bolt of Zeus; the latter if the hand knows how to wield it, can in exceptional situations bring surprisingly good results. Severity is a legitimate even indispensable means of dealing with people...”

Bruno Walter

In my Summer of 42 (years), I was a college freshman…again. With neither Mexican weed nor dormitory hijinks to distract me, I worked through the full Brooklyn College Core Curriculum and a handful of music courses. My degree plan also required an ensemble each semester. When the Assistant Dean interviewed me, he looked over my CV and immediately suggested their Jazz Band. After hearing them, I chose a contemporary music ensemble founded by a composition professor. Fall semester, she was on sabbatical and a trumpet prof, Juilliard guy and veteran freelancer, ran the class. To begin, he sat everyone in a circle and asked us to play “Happy Birthday" in hocket. Most of the class was unsure of the melody and some also thought it a stupid idea. With our nonstandard instrumentation, we massacred Second Viennese School composers for the rest of the term.

Spring term, the founder returned. She was just over five feet tall, brown-skinned, with narrow shoulders and mineshaft dark eyes. When she listened, her head nodded while bottomless eyes fixed on you. Raised in a distressed country, her life moved from prodigy to conservatory-trained professional with impeccable musicianship: piano, score reading, solfege, conducting, improvising, composing. Then, she came to the US, with zero money and English and rebuilt her career from scratch. At BC, she conducted the orchestra until politics pushed her out. Now, she gave composition lessons and led this ensemble.

Our roster still read as spare parts: three singers, three pianists, two flutes, violin, saxophone, clarinet, guitar; some highly skilled, others not. For most, English was a second or even third language. Our professor's first assignment: list your colleagues’ instruments, find pieces for a subset of our forces, select only pieces written after 1960, bring scores/parts for audition.

The following week, we presented our finds. First, someone showed her a John Cage duet. As she turned pages, Maestra’s face went blank .

“Why did you get this?”

A mumbled answer.

Maestra closed the score. “You got eet because eet looks easy. Didn't you? First of all, it’s a short duet. Three, maybe four minutes of music. Nothing to do on a real pro-GRAM. Not serious. Not serious at all.”

More mumbling.

“Get something else. Thank you.”

She jabbed the score into their hands, then addressed the class.

“Nothing about John Cage. John is extraordinary. When you choose music, don’t just take a name you theenk you know. Read the score. You are musicians …supposed to be….”

Next, one of the singers produced a folio. Its font, ornate and oversized. I winced. Maestra saw it was a Puccini aria with piano accompaniment and recoiled.

“After nineteen-sixty? Thees? You are kidding me!”

Again, she faced us.

“Thees is NOT opera work-SHOP. I know some of you did not make it there. I'm very sorry about that. Please find some other music to sing. There are so many good theengs. I hope you will find out. Music does not end with Verdi, Puccini.”

So it went. Gratefully, she anticipated our poor choices and suggested some pieces.

Meastra spoke Spanish to some students, aware of the terrain they navigated and supportive. Jorge, a Mexican pianist, was one of her projects. He was a skilled player, an enthusiastic and warm colleague. His giggle often broke up the class. In our third meeting, we rolled the piano front, Jorge sat on the bench. While he longed for mama's home cooking, he wasn’t missing any meals in Brooklyn. His midsection expanded well beyond his tight-waisted pants, straining shirt buttons. Maestra questioned him on preparation: “you’re playing the second movement, what about the third?”

Unaffected by the prodding, he began to play. A minute in, she said, “stop”.

He continued, eyes closed.

She shouted, “Stop! I’m telling you, STOP"

He looked over.

“JORGE….WHAT…ARE…YOU….DOING?”

It wasn’t meant as a question. Jorge smiled and gently shook his head.

“Why are you smiling? Look at you!”

Her voice leveled.

“This is not ready. It’s better, but it's not ready.”

She shifted.

“I am very worried about you. Look..at…your…STOMACH. You need to take better care of yourself. You know, pianists perform in pro-FILE. Theenk what you show to the audience.”

Jorge wasn't smiling. He put his hand on his belly.

“Everyone should con-see-der an exer-CISE pro-GRAM. I am forty years, Dio mio! Almost FEEFTY years older than some of you. Take care of yourselves.”

She dismissed him with a sweeping gesture.

“Ok, who is next? Anna, where is the list? Geeve it to me!”

Her assistant, a brilliant, tiny, Yankee grad student, always cleaned up.

Maestra partnered Jorge with another pianist for a Gyorgy Ligeti duo. Its ingenious architecture, a complex cycle revealed one beat at a time. In Yogi Berra's construction, half the score was ninety-nine percent rests. The players needed infallible inner time. While they played, Maestra leaned over the piano, right hand supporting her, left turning pages. She nodded her head slightly in tempo. The pianist's hits charged toward and away from each other like Pacman's gobbling goblins.

“You are late!” she slammed her left hand down. They went back. Another hammer blow. Back again. The piece never made it to the program.

At the end of the initial class, she approached me about Milhaud's “Le Creation du Monde", a chamber work for winds, including alto saxophone. We didn’t have the other winds, of course, but a young woodwind quintet, in residence for the year, would help out.

“Le Creation" story moves from brooding chorale to a raggy bolero where the winds pass around jumpy tunes, then strut them all, polyphonically, in a joyous finale.

At the first of four rehearsals, we were less than half personnel. Maestra had been enthusiastic about the quintet, encouraging us to meet, hear and study with them. But they were collaborating with major artists and appearing all over the world. Their residency, now in name only. No one in the group even bothered to return her emails. Our conductor was livid. (Later, the assistant assured us that Maestra never returned emails, either.) In rehearsal, the music just marked time. In long stretches with no tune and no landmarks, I fell into a hole and missed my entrance.

“What are you DOING! Counting! Count-ting! I can’t do everytheeng for you.”

Concert day was the first we all sat down to play. In the midst of my disciplined colleagues, I was a bellowing hippo. During the chorale, my slow descending notes were either out-of-tune, out-of-time, the wrong dynamic, or all three.

The baton came down hard “NO..NO..NO. WHAT ARE YOU DOING?"

“How can you be late. It's jazz. Jazz! You play jazz? Right? You know who is John Col-TRANE? Play it like Col-TRANE! Why should I have to tell YOU this. Come on!”

I wore other hats that night: soprano, clarinet. Still, my mind remained fogged through the Milhaud finale.

The quintet players all demolished their solos. With a huge smile, Maestra gave each well-deserved bows. When they were done, she flashed her eyes at me, scowling. Then, jerked both her hands upwards, like she was flipping a pool toy. I stood up and stared straight down.

Next semester, a composition student brought a score. It was mostly squiggles and arrows, notation designed to move the music forward without defining functional harmony or conventional melody. She conducted a circle for each “bar”. We could gauge the length of each gesture and respond in time. Simultaneously, she sang the gestures using their pitched start/end points, conducted, turned pages and offered substantive commentary. If one of us was even a second late, her glance immolated them.

I became friends with some of her students. Waiting outside her office, they often heard shouting. When the door opened, students walked out in tears. Some planned to work closely with Maestra toward their Master's or DMA. Those plans would change...

An alumni couple created an endowed chair for Maestra, protecting her from political games. To celebrate, students accompanied her to the donors’ Connecticut home for a musicale. We loaded two vans with the usual music school suspects: waifish Asian virtuoso string players, an Eastern European sturm und drang pianist, a diffident “difficult” composer, and bit players like me.

Both donors were in their eighties and fabulously rich, earnest, lefty intellectuals. The wife wore a gas mask-like apparatus, its hoses attached to a whirring box on her back. I strained to understand her speech, but her eyes shone with love and curiosity. The couple warmly welcomed us to a large room packed with guests.

I was part of a quartet: oboe, flute, clarinet and piano, playing a student work. The composer, a young Dominican guy, rising star in the program. A Caribbean undergraduate writing skilled takes on contemporary European music. His piece used the difference-tone clusters of Gyorgy Ligeti: loud, high notes, staggered and longheld, producing acoustic anomalies: window-fan undertones and piercing oscillations. Bathing in timbral waves and madly counting beats, I couldn’t find the piano part, though we made it to the end without requiring oxygen or a conductor. The composer took a awkward bow and disappeared.

With Maestra as Maitre’d we served up a baroque cello sonata, Beethoven piano music and some Sondheim. Then, our little foursome loudly dropped a turd on the buffet table.

The donor husband was one of those ruddy-faced white guys who wear baggy corduroys and turtle necks over their barrel physiques. He sought me out, towering above me as I packed up my clarinet.

“What did he mean with that piece?"

“Sir, I…I wouldn’t want to represent the composer, he never said anything about..”

“Now, you must know something.”

He was an important man accustomed to getting answers, fast and in full.

“I know my part and how it fits with the others. The woodwinds are playing difference tones, Stravinsky used...”

“Why didn’t HE explain that to us? We go to concerts all the time. Conductors explain new music. They give examples, give context. You can’t just write something like that and expect people to automatically understand it.”

Gulp....“Of course.”

“It’s his responsibility to help the audience understand the music”

I looked over. By the buffet, the composer was holding a plate, one of the string players laughing next to him. Mrs Donor approached me, extending her hand. The box on her back hissed and clicked. Above the mask, searching eyes, below, a voice from a radio in another room. Was she talking about the quartet? It was too uncomfortable. I interrupted.

“Thank you so much for your hospitality and the opportunity to play for you. You and your husband are so generous.”

She squeezed my hand and leaned in, radio transmission drowning in static. Her husband came to her side.

“My wife is saying we've been to many, many concerts of new music. Starting way back, with Lenny Bernstein. He taught us there’s always something to learn. He introduced us to many extraordinary artists”

He put his hand lightly on her back. Over her shoulder, Maestra was listening to a guest, head level with their sternum, eyes searchlights in reverse. The radio faded and its whirring submerged in the din.

We got back very late. Our vans parked by the gatehouse and turnstile on the east side of campus. A few yellow lights glowed in the music building. Maestra thanked us. We said goodnight.

Drifting on an acoustic sea, our ancestors explored sound, harnessing the waves. Between foaming peaks and psychic undertow, they found power. From our African beginnings, to the stars, every lineage counted on those who navigated, who mastered instruments, who carried in them songs and stories. They became the music, while it lasted.

[mishamoonberry]

Onmyouji AU

you would (always be by my side) CH. 1 - AO3/FFN

This AU is inspired by Shounen Onmyouji and some spirit AUs in the Naruto fandom.

This is also written for the Kakasaku Month 2017 Week One – Myth/Fairytale AU (and can touch the yukata prompt too tbh bc feudal eraaaaaa). Please do check out other KS Month works by other people on tumblr and AO3/FFN (they're tagged usually so it's easier to find them!) and give them the feedback they deserve! Make this month enjoyable for all of us KS shippers!

Okay, enjoy reading!

They say there exists a spirit that guards the town’s oldest and most beautiful cherry tree.

They say there exists a cherry tree spirit that watches over the people living in town, remembering their names and their deeds.

They say, the spirit is lonely.

XXX

“You have the demon’s eye,” is the first word she says to him, full of wonder and curiosity. The man blinks. Looking left and right and finding nothing, he looks up. On top of a large cherry blossom tree in the middle of the district, on the particularly sturdy branch, sits a woman wrapped in a white kimono with pink red floral patterns. Her hair is pink, reaching her waist and decorated with a simple sakura kanzashi. Her hair is parted in the middle, showing her forehead decorated with a strange purple diamond shaped tattoo.

If Kakashi doesn’t see the ethereal and mystical glow that seems to surround her, he’ll think of her as a random woman too bored with life that she decides to take tree climbing as a hobby.

But no, he recognizes that aura.

She’s a spirit.

And Kakashi is willing to bet his left ass cheek that she’s the spirit of the tree she’s currently sitting on. Spirits—the friendly ones anyway—don’t like to mess with other spirits’ territories after all.

Kakashi stares at her, left eye closed and expression blank, choosing not to answer her simple statement of his ‘demonic’ eye.

It’s not like she’s wrong.

He’s an Onmyouji, one of the practitioners of the Onmyoudo. Basically, he’s one of the specialists in magic, spells and divination. Onmyouji are known to be able to protect other people from evil spirits, and although not all of them may have the sixth sense, Onmyouji are trusted to protect the capital and the people inside it.

One of the largest clan known for their strong onmyouji is the Uchiha Clan. While the civilians simply think that they are blessed with a strong sixth sense, it is merely an excuse to hide the fact that they are cursed.

The tale—probably true or not, although many spirits claim it is true—said that it started with the ancestor, named Indra, who had an actual sixth sense and fucked up real bad during a quest in a mountain, angering the mountain God and thus him and his kin are forever cursed with the Sharingan, the red eyes that enable them to see and feel the spiritual world around them.

It’s perhaps a blessing for those who want to become an Onmyouji. But becoming an onmyouji requires both dedication and talent, not just an uncannily strong sixth sense.

Also it explains why civilian Uchihas are often very skittish when they are out of their warded homes. The spirits are everywhere, whether major or minor, tame or evil, little ones that like to prank or big ones that cause destructions, or ones that are simply bored.

Just like the spirit who is staring at him right now.

“Are you an onmyouji?” She asks, titling her head. “You don’t look like an Uchiha, their aura feels different. Why do you have the demon’s eye?”

“I,” Kakashi drawls, “have no reason to answer that.”

It is her turn to blink.

“Why not?” She presses on, then, “it’s not like I have anyone to tell anything to. You do realize I’m this tree’s spirit, right?”

“I have no interest to tell you anything,” the silver haired man continues pleasantly, smiling a sweet smile so fake his teeth will rot if he keeps it up much longer, “now if you would excuse me.”

“What?” Kakashi ignores her confusion, humming as loud as he can while he speed walks away. He doesn’t want to deal with a nosy spirit, no matter how pretty she is. “Hey!” The spirit calls, indignant. “Where are you going? I’m not finished talking to you!”

She is left ignored.

Xx

“You’re such a rude human.”

Kakashi jolts from his seat on the porch of the Onmyoudo’s dorm, turning around with frantic heartbeats to find the spirit from a few days before floating there, arms positioned on her hips in the typical scolding manner.

“Ha…” the Hatake breathes out, bewildered. “What are you doing here? Aren’t you bound to that tree?”

The spirit has the gall to roll her eyes and scoff. “Don’t mistake me for a cursed spirit, human, I am free to wander as long as I do not bother the Gods.”

“You are…” He trails off, gesturing with his hands, “…bothering me, you know.”

She raises an eyebrow.

“Are you a God?”

“…No…”

“Then I can bother you as much as I please,” she concludes pleasantly, lips quirking up in triumph. Though Kakashi can’t understand what is so very good about bothering a non-Uchiha with the Uchiha demon’s eye, the eye that—contrary to expectations—he did not want. If his best friend could rise back from the dead and take back his eye, Kakashi will give it back happily. The Hatake Clan has had members with sixth sense before, Kakashi included. He doesn’t really need the Sharingan other than that it makes his sense stronger than ever.

Seriously, though, what the hell. He doesn’t understand the spirit’s motivation for even one bit. What is it that she wants from him? She is, as she says so herself, a simple cherry blossom tree spirit; the kind of spirit that causes no prank or malice to other creatures, the kind of spirit that is free and probably loved by everyone.

There is absolutely no reason for her to bother him.

He says at much.

“Well, you can see me, so I have a reason to bother you, now!” She counters, her smile showing her teeth.

Kakashi twitches.

“Repel,” he says, muttering out strings of spells. The spirit jerks, then, looking panicked.

“No, wait!”

It’s too bad that Kakashi is having none of that.

The spirit is forcibly thrown out of the area, and all is peaceful for the Hatake once more.

XX

“You,” comes a snarl from behind him, and Kakashi sighs behind his book, “are very rude.”

“The rude one is you, you know,” he doesn’t take his eye off of his book, “you’re the one who bother me.”

“But that doesn’t mean you can just repel me! I landed thirty kilometers away from my tree, you asshole! If I had landed on an unfriendly spirit’s territory, I’d be dead.”

“Oops,” he says, thoroughly unrepentant, and finds delight in how the spirit seems to try to withhold her furious shriek. Minutes seem to pass afterwards, with the spirit staring at him intently and Kakashi being very content in ignoring her existence altogether. Who knows, maybe she’ll disappear if he ignores her long enough.

Probably not.

“Why are you so against in talking to me anyway?” She says, then, “your life is so boring. You only study, train, read that porn of yours, and patrol. Isn’t it nice to have somebody talking to you?”

Kakashi doesn’t answer, simply flipping the page of his book—and it’s not porn, thank you very much! It’s romance, the spirit must be quite dumb not to recognize romance—and continues on ignoring her.

“Are you even listening to me?”

Junko is being very loud in this scene, he’s afraid Akiko next door will be able to listen in to their—er… nightly activities.

“Hey… Hey!”

…No matter what people says, he really is reading this for the romance.

“Hey, don’t ignore me! Hey!”

…Really. It’s the romance, not the porn.

“Ugh, you’re unbelievable! Hey! I just wanna talk!”

Well, the sex scenes are definitely a plus, he thinks, and also the insight about an onmyouji’s life is very detailed here. As much as he’d expect from the Legendary Traveling Onmyouji Jiraiya. Nevertheless, Junko is truly a beauty, although Jiraiya could have added more description about her face and expression rather than her bulbous—

“…If you don’t answer me, I’ll throw that book into the pond.”

Kakashi’s finger twitches.

She doesn’t seem to notice.

That’s good, because if she actually does according to her threat he’ll not only have her repelled, he’ll have her bound to the tree forever.

“…Hey, hey, come on. Talk to me? Please?”

…Where was he again? Oh, yes, Junko is really a beauty. He wonders if Jiraiya got this inspiration from somewhere. Not Tsunade, because she’s obviously the model for Akiko, whose description could fill in a whole page. Perhaps from some of the women he met on the streets? Or a spirit? Though the thought of seeing a spirit and using her as a romance novel material is a bit—

“Hey, I’m sorry if I was rude but it’s rare for people to be able to see me that are not the Uchiha and I just want to have someone to talk to, you know? The Uchihas have sticks up their butts and they are not good conversationalist, so I just thought you can be a nice person to chat with! That’s all, really! I don’t have any malicious intent, I promise.”

She could’ve talked to some other spirits, why is she so keen on talking to humans? And the Uchiha? Only a few of the Uchihas are as non-Uchiha as they can be; case in point, his dead best friend and a little bugger called Shisui who cracked his head a few days ago because he was lured to the cliff near Naka River by a mononoke called Danzo. It was a wonder he’s still alive.

Ah, why is he even focusing on what she’s saying? It’s better if he just go back to his book, truly.

“…Are you going to continue on ignoring me?”

Well it’s not like he ever wants to talk to her in the first place.

“…”

Has she left?

“I’m just…”

…Nope. Nevermind. If she’s going to ramble again, he’ll just go back to his book, easy peasy. He’s done this ignoring thing since Obito and Rin died, he can manage this, no matter if this is a spirit, not a human and certainly not Gai (although he can never seem to manage to ignore Gai, but he digresses).

And then, she says—

“…It’s lonely, you know?”

The whisper is like a fluttering wind, and probably is not meant to be heard by him. Despite himself, he can’t help but to be intrigued, and thus he finally looks up from his book to look at the spirit properly.

But she’s already gone, leaving the space she previously floated around somehow empty and achingly lonely.

XXX

For the next few days after that, there is no nosy cherry tree spirit trying to talk to him.

However, ‘nosy loud spirit’ seems to have upgraded into ‘nosy stalker spirit’ because she’s been following him around for days. The only places she leaves him alone are the Onmyoudo’s dorm and the Hatake Clan’s compound, in which it’s probably because the latter is warded against unfamiliar spirits.

He’s not even kidding. The pink haired spirit is always at least five meters away from him, peeking from behind the tree or wall or window or anything, looking at him with a pout and that sad kicked puppy look on her face…

…He likes puppies—has like eight of them but shhh—and that look on her face is just unfair.

And so, Kakashi finally relents. He sighs, staring balefully at the spirit that stares back at him with both hope and ferocity that could’ve made a lesser man melt, and motions her to get closer.

“What do you want from me?” He asks, because surely to be persistent, this spirit—however non malicious she may be—must want something from him. He’s had some spirits chasing after him so they can eat the Sharingan, and he wonders if such a pure spirit such as hers would also think of Sharingan as a delicious meal…

The spirit lands in front of him, an almost frown forming on her lips. “I just want to talk,” she says, and when Kakashi raises as a disbelieving eyebrow, she presses on. “I’m serious! The city has been boring for quite awhile and while I can wander, I can’t leave the city lest the tree dies and then I’ll die, talking to small spirits gets boring after a decade and, well, I miss talking to a human.”

Kakashi’s interest is piqued, and he asks, “you’ve talked to a human before?”

“A little boy, this little Uchiha tyke,” a soft and undeniably fond smile is present, and Kakashi figures the boy must have left quite the impression on her. For a spirit that says the Uchihas have sticks up their butts, she seems to be quite fond of this Uchiha. “I haven’t seen him for more than fifteen years, I presume; since he had to move to a neighboring city for Onmyoudo practices.” Then her eyes turn sad, as she whispers, “I think he’s dead.”

“Maa,” Kakashi drawls, “that’s mean of you to think so.” Very rarely Uchihas die out of town, mainly because they prefer doing jobs for this town that is already big enough as it is, other because when they’re taken to other towns, they’re more than capable to protect themselves.

Accidents can still happen though.

(That, or a reckless teammate that ultimately brings your demise).

(Kakashi restrains himself from touching his left eye).

“I’m serious!” She exclaims, sounding offended, “he didn’t go back with the rest of the group that left with him. And the Uchiha did a funeral afterwards; I can’t see the tombstone to make sure of it because the place is warded!” And then, softer, “he promised to come back. Obito never broke his promise.”

Kakashi very nearly bites his tongue off.

“What?” He almost demands, staring at her wide eyed.

“What?” She parrots, blinking. “I said he didn’t come back.”

“You said Obito,” he whispers, jaw trembling. It couldn’t be—

“Yes,” she confirms, “Uchiha Obito,” her expression clears and she lights up, looking hopeful. “You know him? Have you seen him anywhere? Is he well?”

Kakashi doesn’t answer. He isn’t able to. Here in front of him is a spirit who knew of Obito, his (dead dead deadeaddead—) best friend, the one who gave him this eye she seems to be interested in. She doesn’t seem to realize that the eye in his left eye socket belonged to Obito; or perhaps she unconsciously does, which explains her efforts in getting close to him.

Spirits are, after all, sensitive by nature and when they cling to something they deem precious, they will always cling onto it. The only reason she probably allowed Obito to leave the town is mostlikely that she’s not a malicious spirit and has quite the understanding of responsibilities an Onmyouji has.

She belongs to the oldest cherry tree in town; he’s not surprised if she knows some stuffs.

But—

But she doesn’t know of this. She doesn’t. Because Obito never returned and the Uchiha grounds are fucking warded from bottom to high ground and not even a non-malicious spirit can get close; only gods and their blessings may touch upon the Uchiha grounds. She has no way to know and she looks so excited, so happy and—

Has she been waiting for Obito this whole time?

The spirit, probably seeing his deafening silence, lets her excitement fall. She watches his expression, as he seemingly opens his mouth behind his mask and closes it again, at loss on how to reply.

Oh.

Oh.

Her eyebrows furrow, and with a downcast expression, she asks the question she fears the answer of.

(But she knows the answer already, doesn’t she?)

(Because Obito never broke his promise).

(And Obito never returned despite his promise).

“He’s dead, isn’t she?” She whispers, eyes watching the silver haired Onmyouji’s every move, and when the man flinches as if struck, she knows her worst fear has come true—has been true for the past decade.

She closes her eyes.

(I’ll be back, Sakura, he said with a wide smile. He looked manlier than the scrawny little kid that long time ago scuffled toward her tree to ask her to be his friend).

(I heard the neighbor town has these pretty kanzashi on sale, so I’ll buy you one, he promised, a hand grasping her own. With a teasing smile, he said, and then you can finally replace the one I bought for you long ago).

(I’ll be back).

(I promise).

He never comes back.

XXX

Is that hints of past ObiSaku? It is. I am a multishipper, I ship Sakura with a lot of people.

I apologize for the lack of Kakasaku in this chapter, but it will happen next chapter, I promise!

This story will be short, probably only having three or four chapters before it’s completed. I hope you can enjoy the ride as much as I do.

Review please!

[therealraeartblog]

Excessively Detailed Headcanon Meme YOU GOTTA DO ALL OF EM FOR SINK PLEASE RAE pls also have i mentioned that i love u lately

GEEZ FRIEND THAT’S A LOT OKAY UH

What does their bedroom look like? Covered in books and succulents and flowers/pretty rocks/spell ingredients in jars. She probably has one of those poster beds and dries bundles of nice-smelling herbs on the top of them so she can fall asleep to the smell of lavender. I can see her room being messy and cluttered in a Howl’s Moving Castle kinda way

Do they have any daily rituals? She likes to walk her garden at least once a day, and tries to read at least a few pages of whatever book she’s working through.

Do they exercise, and if so, what do they do? How often? I can’t see her exercising anything but her mind tbh

What would they do if they needed to make dinner but the kitchen was busy? She’s so used to living alone that she probably would need to adjust to the ‘there’s someone else in my kitchen’ thing first but she’d probably just kinda wait for them to be done in lieu of saying anything

Cleanliness habits (personal, workspace, etc.) lmao she’s a messy witch there’s spell ingredients and chalk marks and books EVERYWHERE but her clothing is always immaculate.

Eating habits and sample daily menu Uh I can only really picture her daily habits as an objecthead and they don’t eat sorry. If she is cooking for herself she probs enjoys easy things, or things she can grow herself.

Favorite way to waste time and feelings surrounding wasting time She doesn’t feel like a time waster, more an idler. She may drift through towns or cities without really interacting with anyone or anything, leaving early and taking the last train home, mostly due to the feeling of having nothing else to do and wanting to be surrounded by the world for a while

Favorite indulgence and feelings surrounding indulging Fuck man i dunno she likes novels a lot and sometimes will spend the whole day reading, only to crash into bed at 7am and sleep it off

Makeup? She used to try to cover her burn scars but it got too tedious (plus they reach down to her hands and wearing makeup on your hands is just ugh). She doesn’t like people looking at her face so she doesn’t really wear any.

Neuroses? Do they recognize them as such? uhhhh well she has the feeling that people don’t really like her/people are staring at her but idk if that would be a Neuroses

Intellectual pursuits? She is always trying to twist magic in unique ways and create new spells

Favorite book genre? Romantic Fantasy

Sexual Orientation? And, regardless of own orientation, thoughts on sexual orientation in general? She is like the one oc i was hoping would be gay yet ended up surprisingly straight. She doesn’t give much thought to orientations in general (also she’s fuckin thick as a vault door when it comes to relationships and/or seeing other people’s romantic feelings for others and/or herself) but just happens to be attracted to Male-leaning individuals

Physical abnormalities? (Both visible and not, including injuries/disabilities, long-term illnesses, food-intolerances, etc.) She’s got a big burn scar down half of her body, extending up to the left side of her face and down that shoulder/arm/hand/side. It’s mostly scar tissue now but it’s lighter than her normal skintone and thus very obvious, at least to her.

Biggest and smallest short term goal? biggest - to somehow convince Quet to keep coming over even after her debt is paid. smallest - to not get her balloon snagged on anything

Biggest and smallest long term goal? biggest - to somehow achieve the level of human attachment she sees around her. Smallest - To grow the most beautiful garden(tm)

Preferred mode of dress and rituals surrounding dress She loves pretty dresses and skirts and always wears tights (they used to cover the burns on her legs, now it’s just a habit). She always has the moon amulet around her neck and enjoys dramatic coats and scarves

Favorite beverage? idk why but ‘hot cocoa’ popped into my head

What do they think about before falling asleep at night? The stars. Books she’s read recently. Spells she wants to try. Hex.

Childhood illnesses? Any interesting stories behind them? I can’t really think of any? idk I haven’t thought much into her childhood except that she used to look up to witches in media. I’m sure at some point she got a stomach bug and spent two weeks marathoning harry potter and watching mary poppins on repeat

Turn-ons? Turn-offs? lmao i was gonna say she’s a sapiosexual but honestly even she’s not that pretentious. She does enjoy an intellectual conversation though. Turn-offs would be essentially anything crass or bigoted i suppose

Given a blank piece of paper, a pencil, and nothing to do, what would happen? I imagine some sort of list or plan or recipe would end up on the piece of paper, or multiple at different angles across the page

How organized are they? How does this organization/disorganization manifest in their everyday life? Not at all and yet they spend a surprisingly small amount of time actually looking for things. She knows where things are even if they’re sprawled everywhere.

Is there one subject of study that they excel at? Or do they even care about intellectual pursuits at all? they care a LOT about intellectual pursuits and especially magical ones, they enjoy evocations and transmutations

How do they see themselves 5 years from today? Probably in the same situation in the next town over

Do they have any plans for the future? Any contingency plans if things don’t workout? Honestly her plans are ‘exist in one place for as long as is convenient, leave as soon as you get the feeling people are growing tired of you’

What is their biggest regret? The botched spell that scarred her

Who do they see as their best friend? Their worst enemy? Best friend - Quet. Worst Enemy- probably Run.

Reaction to sudden extrapersonal disaster (eg The house is on fire! What do they do?) MAGIC

Reaction to sudden intrapersonal disaster (eg close family member suddenly dies) DENIAL

Most prized possession? Her wand

Thoughts on material possessions in general? I mean she has mostly fleeting things- plants live and die, ingredients are used up. The most static thing she has are the amulet, her wand and her books, and none of these hold any extrinsic value

Concept of home and family?She doesn’t have a very strong one. Home is where she is, family is who she’s related to. It takes her a while to accept the family that found her more recently

Thoughts on privacy? (Are they a private person, or are they prone to ‘TMI’?) She’s very good at accidentally diving head-first into other people’s private lives, bc she has 0 experience with social cues

What activities do they enjoy, but consider to be a waste of time? I don’t know if they consider anything they do to be a waste of time tbh

What makes them feel guilty? When they accidentally cross a line they didn’t know was there, and end up pushing people away because of it

Are they more analytical or more emotional in their decision-making? DEFINITELY analytical

Would they consider themselves a Type A or Type B personality? Uhh I’m mostly blanking but i think type B?

What recharges them when they’re feeling drained? Introvert time in the garden/tending to succulents

Would you say that they have a superiority-complex? Inferiority-complex? Neither? Superiority, definitely

How misanthropic are they? I have done 40 questions and I’m not ashamed to say i cannot recall the definition of misanthropic and am not going to look it up good day

Hobbies? Reading, gardening, making spell jars and hanging pots

How far did they get in formal education? What are their views on formal education vs self-education? She got pretty far in formal education (college at least) but sees no difference in where one gets their knowledge if they have it

Religion? I know a passing knowledge of wicca and paganism and I think Paganism? I really need to do more reading about it whoops

Superstitions or views on the occult? lmao she’s a witch my man

Do they express their thoughts through words or deeds? words, because they don’t know how else to.

If they were to fall in love, who (or what) is their ideal? *sideeyes @roseisfrommars‘s Hex* that one

How do they express love? Through quality time and small gestures, and tripping over words of admiration

If this person were to get into a fist fight, what is their fighting style like? lmao wands out and enchantments flying she’s not using her fists

Is this person afraid of dying? Why or why not? girl she ded. she highkey already ded.