#i gave him a loose leaf spice

[savage-rhi]

I'm a bit of a tea witch/tea goblin.

If you come over and I give you a regular tea bag of something, I like you. If I give you anything from my loose leaf and herbal personal stash, you're an honored guest. Now, if I give you any of the VERY limited and expensive matcha I have, you've hit one of three categories:

1. You're beyond a friend or a guest. A secret 3rd option. Dragon/unicorn status. I want you to have a wonderful experience drinking this amazing cocaine in green powder form.

2. You're going through hardship, and I'm willing to put my therapist cap on. This is your sign to lay it all out, and I'll listen without a peep nor judgment while the matcha works it's magic.

3. We're both about to spill a copius amount of tea of another ilk and need all the spititual energy we can muster for this shit cause the words we have are piping hot AF.

Bonus: if I give you a teabag that comes from the same drawer where I keep spare condoms, I'm worried about you staying safe for more reasons than one. This is mom energy coming out and saying: "sweetie, we need to have a serious talk. If the condoms weren't a strong metaphor, you're fucking up."

[justalittletomato]

He was not partial to any one ( Maul x Reader)

@apocalypticwafflekitten @pixiestookourstardust @by-the-primes @eyecandyeoz @patchiefrog @gran-maul-seizure @stardustbee @kimageddon @storm89 @hannagoldworthy @dukeoftheblackstar

Inspired by a lovely conversation with my dear friend @patchiefrog

. To say he favored someone would be far from his nature. No Maul did not favor a certain one and nor did he seek out their favor in turn.

He would claim it was continue to ensure that his Advisor would remain pleased. That their relationship would be beneficial.

The tins of powdered milk had been stocked, one of which sat on the tea tray placed before the Archivist. Their eyes widened at the small tin, picking it up gingerly and inspecting it.

The higher residents of Sundari could afford fresh milk, they would turn their noses at the tins. Reserves meant for times of trouble, of the outer circles on Mandalore….

To the Archivist, it reminded them of years before, a warm nostalgia. The slightly sugary taste of tinned powered milk had been a treat to them as a child. A large spoonful stirred into their tea as a child, making the bitter drink much more tolerable at that time.

Before the civil wars, when tinned milk powder was more in store, before rations, the Archivist recalled their buir making the ever soft milk buns. The hint of sweetness in the cloud of bread.

“You traded some tea for it with one of the guards.” Maul said plainly, breaking the Archivist from their thoughts.

Yes they had, the familiar tin, the tea was worth much more, some loose leaf straight from the palace stores. The guard has been more than happy to part with it in exchange.

Maul had seen the exchange. The soft glow on the archivists face as they held the tin.

“Maybe it’s the novelty? Who knows, I know some of us grew up on the stuff. Guess nostalgia beats us at times” he had overheard.

He handed them an opener, the archivist taking it and eagerly opening up the tin. A pause, “ Lord Maul wouldn’t you prefer some fresh milk?”

“Tinned is fine.” Not that he had many memories of the stuff, it was a food stuff not familiar to him. Then again many things were. He did not dwell on it.

“Do you like your tea quite sweet? Or more bitter?” A spoonful of powdered milk already placed in their cup.

“I think I’ll take it the same as you.” Again a soft glow on their face.

He quite liked the look.

The Archivist fixed his tea and placed it before him. “I hope you enjoy it.”

He watched them. Blowing gently at the tea and eyes closed to take a cautious sip. A smile on their lips. Were they lost in a happy memory?

He took a sip. A burst of sweetness on his tongue, it was pleasant he supposed. He watched the Archivist once more.

The smile remained. They were happy.

He liked to see them happy.

“Ensure that tinned powered milk is kept in store.” Maul relayed to Almec who immediately scoffed.

“Powdered milk? Lord Maul there may be a war but there’s no reason to resort to such food stuffs. That has not been the case since the civil wars..” Almec’s words were silenced with the look Maul gave him.

“I find it preferable, now can you do such a simple task or do I need to pass on the task to someone else who is better suited for your role?”

Almec held his tongue, “ No need,”

——-

The archivist watched the rolls rise in the oven, as the stew simmered in the pot. The amount of spices and peppers made their eyes water but it was how Maul preferred it.

A large bowlful filled as well as two, in second thought, three milk buns placed on the tray.

Maul looked up ready to argue with whoever interrupted him, his frown softening at the sight of the Archivist and the slightest upturn at the corner of his mouth at the tray.

“I’ll prepare some tea then.” He set down his work and move to the table near the desk. Another tin of powdered milk and loose leaf tea set in each cup.

—-

[capsensislagamoprh]

Head cannon central.

As you know, I love the idea that Otabek comes from that OLD money. You'd have to look to see the signs, but they are there. So when he comes to stay with Yuri in his new apartment on a long visit, he low key puts things in there Yuri deserves, but would never get for himself.

One of said things? Yuri uses those Lipton tea bags in a cardboard box that's only good for poisoning your tulips and perhaps making long island iced. He says nothing, just suffers thrugh until Yuri has to go do something like ballet class.

Otabek goes shopping, with mutual agreement, so they can cut two birds with one skate. He gets all the things, including tea. He gets no less than eight of those fancy metal tins with different types of tea in each. The ones with like, twelve, maybe twenty silk pouches with fragrant blooms, herbs, and spices. Yuri is not ready for loose leaf, let alone custom blends. And he gets one very large box of cheep assed Lipton, because if that's what Yuri wants, that is what Yuri gets.

Yuri doesn't understand. Tea is tea. Until he sits with Otabek, watching movies, curled up under the same blanket, and smells the cinnamon and cream coming from Otabek's cup. When he thinks Otabek is not looking he steals a sip. Otabek goes to make himself a new cup. He's not getting that one back.

Yuri goes to dance class next week with a cherry blossom and honey tea in his reusable to go cup. Lilia starts to dig into him about coffee and how it's not acceptable. Yuri explains it's tea, perhaps a little to enthusiastically. He promises to bring Lilia a cup tomorrow so she can try it too.

Next time Otabek drives Yuri to dance class. He's got the tea for Lilia. As he hands her a bag full of several metal tins with classical, elegant flavors, she sips from the cup Yuri gave her. It's almost enough to make up for that exhibition skate. Almost.

As Otabek stands off to the side, admiration for the art of ballet clear in the way he watches Yuri dance, or perhaps for her prized student himself, quietly saying he'd be happy to send her a subscription for whatever flavors she likes, or she can pick out ones she'd like to try - he'd like to make up for disappointing her all those years ago...

Then he tells her how he knew her, Yakov, and how he first met Yuri. She reluctantly agrees. Let it never be said she's above such fine gestures of recompense. Her time is valuable, after all.

When she gets home she tries the creamed earl grey. Perhaps he's not such a bad boy after all. Inflexible, yes, but there must be something to work with if he has taste like this.

The Lipton winds up staying in the cabinet for years. It makes Otabek smile every time he sees it. Unused, probably decayed to dust by now. They even move it into their new place. It only ever gets used on people Yuri doesn't like. Like his tutors, and that one time Victor pissed him off so much he wasn't speaking to him for weeks.

Otabek adds things. Yuri doesn't understand them, until he can't remember not using them always. Like when they curl up under the same blanket to watch movies with a cup of cinnamon cream tea.

[lisbeth-kk]

December moments

The prompts used in today's chapter are: wish list - shopping - star

Have you ever wondered what the boys give each other for Christmas, or where they go shopping for gifts? If so, you’re in luck, because that’s just what will be revealed today. 

December 2

Getting Sherlock to write him a wish list for Christmas, was a futile endeavour. 

“I have everything I need, John. Unless Molly is willing to give you some…”

“Not an option, my love,” John sighed, faking his exasperation. 

“Spoil sport,” Sherlock muttered under his breath, but the glint in his eyes gave him away. 

Sherlock took a seat beside John and grabbed the list from his hands. As he scanned it, he made satisfied sounds, rolled his eyes a few times, and scolded John for wanting to buy Mycroft something. 

“He’s family, whether you like it or not,” John said patiently. 

“Not,” Sherlock retorted, which made John snort. 

***

They decide to go to Harrod’s food department to buy honey, chocolate-covered raspberries and a bottle of port for Mrs. Hudson. Despite Sherlock’s protests, John buys Mycroft a 25-piece chocolate collection box and his favourite whisky. For Sherlock’s parents, they buy loose leaf tea, the special Christmas spiced honey and a bottle of Veuve Clicquot. 

In the Christmas shop at Liberty’s, Sherlock has a hard time deciding which of the three stars he wants for their tree. Early in January, their gold and silver star for some reason, had been forgotten behind a cushion on the sofa, and after John had fucked Sherlock to oblivion of the unforeseen pain in one of his shoulder blades, it was beyond saving. 

“Totally worth it,” according to Sherlock. 

In the end Sherlock chooses a silver star. 

“It’s after all how they look from Earth,” he explains to John. 

“My brilliant genius,” John whispers in Sherlock’s ear, which makes him shiver and momentarily close his eyes. 

***

As attentive readers now of course have realised, the boys hid their purchases for each other well. Or perhaps they’ll buy gifts for the other later in the month. Or have they bought them already? I’m sure it’ll all be revealed in due course. 

Read it on AO3

@totallysilvergirl @keirgreeneyes @calaisreno @phoenix27884 @topsyturvy-turtely @a-victorian-girl @safedistancefrombeingsmart @gregorovitchworld @helloliriels @raina-at @sabsi221b

[dufferpuffer]

Do you have any general HCs about Lupin? (Love your posts btw!)

I DO have Hcs about The Woof Woof boy-! I actually forgot I typed up a LONG Music HC about Remus in February. It's been sitting in my drafts. Oopsy. Thanks for reminding me to post it :9

First ones are links to other posts - but with unique ones written under the 'Read More'... just to keep things looking neat and tidy :)

He likes Muggle music. It has been his companion his entire life. (1700 words)

He has a toxic (ha) relationship with drugs like alcohol, nicotine and caffeine. He uses them like self-medication for his Lycanthropy… and is smug about how he doesn't get addicted… not realizing he is addicted to feeling in control. aka Having an eating disorder. (short)

He isn't great with money. -He grew up with parents who were VERY good with money - and could always budget a little for nice things… but they didn't want him to worry about how little money they had, so they never included him in those talks. - Then when he was a teenager he had rich friends buy him things freely.So: when he grew up, he was used to having nice things around… and had to learn how to budget the hard way. (500 words)

Despite knowing he would love Hagrid - he has a fear of him. (short)

He is an honorary Weasley. They keep a picture of him up on the family wall, always. (short)

I love his diagonal face scars from the movies. They are one of the very few scars that are not self inflicted. They can't be. Look at where they are: Crossing over his brow, nose, cheeks… He couldn't do that to himself when he has a wolf face. They must have been done to his human face. But every time he would face a werewolf - he would ALSO be a werewolf… SO: They were done before he was a werewolf. They are the scars Frenrir Greyback gave him as he bit him.

Pottermore (or whatever its called) said that Greyback broke into Remus' bedroom when he was 5 and bit him. Where is the bite…? While Greyback is more controlled and aware as a werewolf, being well practiced at it - I doubt he is 'delicate' with his approach. A 5 year old boy laying on his back is a difficult target to chomp. (Of course - he could have woken him up… but I feel like if Remus had that experience, of fighting for his life against a beast towering over his bed… I mean, fucking yeesh, right? I doubt he would be calm around any creature anymore.) I propose this: Remus was laying on his side, back away from the window - his shoulder exposed and a perfect target for a good chomp. Greybacks claws dragged up Remus' face as he held him down, leaving the diagonal scars. Then he skedaddled back out the window as Remus panicked and screamed in pain - taken by surprise, not even seeing the monster. Maybe Remus didn't even know what a werewolf looked like until his dad gave in and showed him pictures in a book… maybe he didn't want to know.

Likes tea. Usually has some teabags on his person somewhere - but his true indulgence is in making his ~own blends~ of loose-leaf herbs and spices. He just can't carry a bunch of herbs around with him. While he was teaching at Hogwarts, he had the space and the money to buy far too many herbs - and would get ANYONE entering his office to try a new blend. And could be pushy. "No thanks, Professor - I'm not thirsty..." "Thirsty?! You don't need to be thirsty for a cup of brew! Please?"

Sweet tooth. This can ruin his tea blends: they aren't always that nice - he doesn't understand why 'try it with three or four sugarcubes!' doesn't appeal. It's a good thing he can't carry much around much Sugar around with him, other than the packets he takes from Muggle cafe's. - His father would always budget to bring sweets home, as Remus didn't have much to be excited for in his young life. - When he was weary and exhausted after a Full Moon, his parents would dote on him and cheer him up with sweets. Lollies, chocolate, biscuits, cakes... things he made with his mother the day before, give him something to look forward to. - The Hogwarts train with his friends? They were rich - they'd buy the entire trolley. …He is not beyond crunching plain sugar when depressed.

He wants to come across as an 'intellectual', but... isn't. I don't mean he is dumb or something. A third of each month he feels like garbage. Fatigue, brain fog, pain etc. The other two thirds he is being active, working anything he can... the whole month he is homeless, anxious and depressed. He is chronically ill, and when he has the time and the 'spoons' to enjoy things - he is so worn down he just wants to feel happy. Simple narratives. Sugary drinks. Happy poppy music. He wants to come across as the sort of guy that reads philosophy in his spare time, working on 3 different research papers at once, sitting in his office with a sharp glass of whiskey - while being delightfully pleasant company. You know, like Dumbledore. ...But he can't live that life. So he just pretends to, a little. Dresses the part, acts the part - when a kid comes into his Office he is reading a big book... but only because he could hear their footsteps approaching the door, so he picked it up really quickly.

Related to ^ - he is jealous that Severus is literally that. Apart from 'delightfully pleasant company' - but I think if you approached the wild Snape calmly and asked about his Potions research, he would be more palatable.

He likes the back of his head/neck rubbed. Is it a werewolf thing? Is it a man thing? Who knows, who cares. The short hair on the back of his head, behind his ears and the top of his neck... its comforting having someones hand there, playing with it. Petting it. Whether he is stressed or just wants to relax. One of his favourite places is laying on someones lap while they gently play with his hair. It's nice.

[zhongrin]

— "a forest ranger’s guide on how to read a 🦊 fennec fox’s mood" by [name]

◇ characters ◇ tighnari

◇ tags ◇ pure fluff

◇ a/n ◇ who gave him the right to be this cute and sassy i wanted to make an actual journal entry with like cute stickers and pictures and stuff but i have 0 artistic talent so yeah that's not happening

𝑚𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡 ⬙ 𝑡𝑎𝑔𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡

𝐟𝐨𝐱 𝐨𝐛𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐣𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐥 #𝟏

✦ 𝑠𝑝𝑒𝑐𝑖𝑚𝑒𝑛 —

fennex fox hybrid | 𝑣𝑢𝑙𝑝𝑒𝑧 𝑧𝑒𝑟𝑑𝑎

✦ 𝑑𝑖𝑒𝑡𝑠 —

‘shrooms, fruits, meats, leaves?? (saw him eat some this one time?? for research??)

✦ 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒𝑠 —

leaf and flower bookmarks, shade from the sun, mushrooms (not the poisonous ones though), tail grooming (maybe?? saw a special brush on his room one time - need to prove hypothesis)

✦ 𝑑𝑖𝑠𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒𝑠 —

idiots (special note: read more on avidya forest survival guide + resources on sumeru jungle plantations), loud noises, heavy spices, perfumes

✦ 𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑠 —

standing tall, loose; relaxed.

standing tall, tense; alert - most likely there’s danger nearby. survey the area closely.

a twitch and a freeze and a slow swivel; alertness, observation - the fox hears something and is trying to deduce what he heard.

drooping, continuous swivel; embarrassment? anxiousness? to observe more. cute

a few continuous flicks; itchy ears - most likely he can’t scratch them at the moment. help to scratch his ears. usually will be rewarded by headpats :D

flat against head; refer to 𝑡𝑎𝑖𝑙 section.

✦ 𝑡𝑎𝑖𝑙 —

upright, loose; relaxed. !!!do not pull!!!

upright, tall and unmoving; alert, aggression - best prepare for a fight.

upright, with ears flat against head; curious - fox is interested in object. will sometimes ignore his surroundings. take care to watch over him and any possible dangers around.

moving about, with ears flat against head; needy - little fox wants scratches and pats, so scratches and pats he shall get <3

swaying softly, sideways; happy, content - note to self: to add fox’s subject of interest to ‘likes’ whenever this happens

swaying softly, up and down; excited - fox does this when he sees squirrels, fellow fox in the wild, or a new unidentified plant

“master, if we don't go soon- oh! i-i’m sorry,” collei squeaks when her violet eyes find your sleeping form hunched over on your desk, which is covered in countless papers, your arms acting as your pillow and your lips slightly open.

undoubtedly, you had been working on something and fallen asleep somewhen last night. as your soft snore fills the now-silent room, her teacher, who had been standing beside you right by your desk and motioned her to quieten down, smiles and closes the book in his hand with a soft thump.

“i’ll be there in ten minutes,” tighnari says, his tone gentle and the young ranger knows whenever her teacher takes that tone, it must concern you.

she nods wordlessly and leaves the two of you, giggling into her palms as a cloud of pink blush dust her cheeks.

back in your shared room, the fox hybrid sighs when his eyes fixes on the uncomfortable position you’re in. his arms, trained from wielding his signature bow and climbing sumeru’s terrain, wrap carefully around you, taking care to not jostle you too much as he moves your peacefully snoozing form over to your bed. after he safely tucks you in, he glances towards the desk, or more specifically, the journal that had taken his interest.

…. well, he still has at least five minutes to spare.

𝐟𝐨𝐱 𝐨𝐛𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐣𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐥 #𝟏

✦ 𝑠𝑝𝑒𝑐𝑖𝑚𝑒𝑛 —

fennex fox hybrid | 𝑣𝑢𝑙𝑝𝑒𝑧 𝑧𝑒𝑟𝑑𝑎

✦ 𝑑𝑖𝑒𝑡𝑠 —

‘shrooms, fruits, meats, leaves?? (saw him eat some this one time?? for research?? 𝗂 𝖽𝗈 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝗍𝖺𝗌𝗍𝖾)

✦ 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒𝑠 —

leaf and flower bookmarks, shade from the sun, mushrooms (not the poisonous ones though), tail grooming (maybe?? saw a special brush on his room one time - need to prove hypothesis 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗄𝗂𝗇𝖽 𝗈𝖿 𝖿𝖺𝗄𝖾-𝖺𝗌𝗌 𝗁𝗒𝖻𝗋𝗂𝖽 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽𝗇'𝗍 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗂𝗋 𝗍𝖺𝗂𝗅 𝗀𝗋𝗈𝗈𝗆𝖾𝖽??), [𝗇𝖺𝗆𝖾]

✦ 𝑑𝑖𝑠𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒𝑠 —

idiots (special note: read more on avidya forest survival guide + resources on sumeru jungle plantations + "𝖺𝗏𝗂𝖽𝗒𝖺 𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗍 𝖿𝖺𝗎𝗇𝖺 𝗀𝗎𝗂𝖽𝖾" + "𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗅𝗈𝗀𝗌 𝗏𝗈𝗅.1 - 𝗏𝗈𝗅.47") (𝗒𝗈𝗎'𝗋𝖾 𝖺 𝖽𝗎𝗆𝖻𝖺𝗌𝗌 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎'𝗋𝖾 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖼𝖺𝗍𝖾𝗀𝗈𝗋𝗒), loud noises, heavy spices, perfumes

✦ 𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑠 —

standing tall, loose; relaxed.

standing tall, tense; alert - most likely there’s danger nearby. survey the area closely.

a twitch and a freeze and a slow swivel; alertness, observation - the fox hears something and is trying to deduce what he heard.

drooping, continuous swivel; embarrassment? anxiousness? to observe more. cute 𝗂 𝖺𝗆 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝖼𝗎𝗍𝖾.

a few continuous flicks; itchy ears - most likely he can’t scratch them at the moment. help to scratch his ears. usually will be rewarded by headpats :D 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗆𝖺𝗒𝖻𝖾 𝗄𝗂𝗌𝗌𝖾𝗌 𝗂𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖻𝖾𝗀

flat against head; refer to 𝑡𝑎𝑖𝑙 section.

✦ 𝑡𝑎𝑖𝑙 —

upright, loose; relaxed. !!!do not pull!!! 𝗇𝗈 𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗍 𝗌𝗁𝖾𝗋𝗅𝗈𝖼𝗄 (𝗂 𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝖺 𝗀𝗋𝗎𝖽𝗀𝖾 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗋𝗂𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗉𝗎𝗅𝗅 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗌𝗍𝗎𝗇𝗍)

upright, tall and unmoving; alert, aggression - best prepare for a fight.

upright, with ears flat against head; curious - fox is interested in object. will sometimes ignore his surroundings. take care to watch over him and any possible dangers around.

moving about, with ears flat against head; needy 𝗇𝖾𝗀𝗅𝖾𝖼𝗍𝖾𝖽 - little fox wants scratches and pats, so scratches and pats he shall get <3

swaying softly, sideways; happy, content - note to self: to add fox’s subject of interest to ‘likes’ whenever this happens 𝗒𝗈𝗎'𝗋𝖾 𝖽𝖾𝗇𝗌𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗇 𝖺 𝖻𝗋𝗂𝖼𝗄 𝗐𝖺𝗅𝗅

swaying softly, up and down; excited - fox does this when he sees squirrels, fellow fox in the wild, or a new unidentified plant

𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗁𝖾𝗇𝗌𝗂𝗏𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝖼𝗈𝗋𝖽𝗌, 𝗁𝗈𝗐𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗂𝗍'𝗌 𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝗆𝗎𝖼𝗁 𝗅𝖺𝖼𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀. 𝗂 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗌𝗎𝗀𝗀𝖾𝗌𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗎𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗈𝖻𝗌𝖾𝗋𝗏𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗎𝖻𝗃𝖾𝖼𝗍 𝖼𝗅𝗈𝗌𝖾𝗅𝗒.

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[littlefreya]

The Devil’s Tongue

Summary: A mask of virtue hides a man riddled with lust and while his stoicism proceeds him, even he can’t withstand a begging girl. 

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x OFC (3rd person POV)

Warning: 18+. Manhandling, abuse of power, MaleDom/FemSub, some thigh riding, unprotected sex, deflowering, loss of virginity, mild mentions of blood, sex in front of mirror (auto-voyeurism), profanities, bodily fluids, possessive behaviour. 

Words: 4.5k

A/N: Many thanks to my muse @agniavateira for supporting me through this story and for betaing. This was inspired by a certain scene in the film. My pervy mind took it elsewhere. Sincerely, I am not sure how I feel about it, so I’ll let you be the judge while I’m having my panic attack. 

Please reblog and give feedback if you enjoyed. 🖤

*No permission is given for reposting my work, copying it, ideas or parts it and claiming it as your own*

Title: The Devil’s Tongue

The treacherous moon was already high in the midnight sky and winds of melancholia whispered through the ivy leaves that grew timidly around the window’s panes. Despite the solace of night, her blood seeped with venom, and vicious thorns grew beneath her skin.

Striding through the desolate corridors of Holmes’ estate, Vanessa fumed while listening to the sounds of the old house: the creaking of the floorboards, the glass panes rattling in the wind, and the scratching of mice that ran between the walls. A kerosene lamp hung heavy between her sweaty fingers; her knees cracked as she marched forward to face her master.

Same as every night, Sherlock hid in his library to chase adventures behind thin sheets of paper. He was not to be disturbed, though he left her no choice.

Sent her away he did, claiming that her service was no longer needed even though she was promised a home at the estate, despite Enola’s departure. The worst of it was that he didn’t even bother telling her himself, but simply sent another servant to announce that she must pack her belongings tonight.

‘Like hell, I would!’

Vanessa willed her heart to beat slowly as she tiptoed, cursing every wooden plank that grated beneath her feet. It’s been over a year since she started working for the Holmes family, and despite battling her concupiscence tooth and nail, Mr. Holmes has possessed her very existence. Sleepless nights left her yearning to drink the mead of his mouth and feel the slapping of his skin onto hers.

Wistfully, the brooding detective only stared at her with a lustre of ice. But the notion of never seeing him again felt like holding a blade pointed to her chest; the wish to confess nibbled in her gut like a pesky little fish.

‘At least I will have the chance to say farewell…’ she mused as she finally reached the open doorway of the library. It was a cosy cavern, stuffed with endless shelves of books and vases of pink roses to mellow its austerity.

Wood burnt to a crisp within the hearth, its aromatic scent bleeding into the air and a light layer of ashen mist wafted over the chamber. There sat her master, resting comfortably on his maroon leather armchair with a book in one hand and a pipe pressed between his succulent lips like a king on a throne of solitude.

Silently she stared, brow furrowing at his sight. It baffled her how a man can be so oblivious to the dangerous power he had over women. Sherlock was as divine as the coldest day of winter: eyes of crystal snow, curls darker than the night, and sharp facial features that gave a tinge of intimidating flavour. The ancient god Hades would have been jealous of his divinity. Even in these serene moments, Sherlock’s presence exhumed dominant masculinity, consuming oxygen like the fire that burnt in the mantle.

Clad in a white cotton shirt loose over his broad chest, he calmly turned a page on his book and sighed.

It was impossible not to sense her nearby. The young woman was a breeze of autumn wind: spiced yet soothing, bringing the omen of a season’s change. She tried very hard to hide her feral nature, abiding, serving, and acting polite. While she fooled everyone, including herself, he detected the brazen kiss that raged within her.

Nights were riddled by dreams of dismantling her shackles, only to bind her further to himself. And yet, every time he looked at her a loathing rage gnawed inside. To him, she was a dire trap meant to expose the thing that hid behind his mask of virtue—a reckless savage, sick with twisted desire.

It took true power to send her away. Yet, here she was, barging into his shelter to pour another drop of simmering turmoil into his already seething blood.

“Can’t sleep, Nessie?”

Vanessa jolted with a startle. His deep voice threaded tendrils of dark silk around her heart, attempting to draw it further out of her fragile ribcage. Maintaining attention on the book in his hand, Sherlock’s mouth twitched into a cold grin of respect, sensing her glare stabbing at his nape.

“You might be a mouse, but you have the stomp of an elephant.”

Forcing the book shut with a soft thud, Sherlock turned his head aside, daring to catch a glimpse of her. His pretentious smile died, and a surge of passion seized at his groin. Like the virgin Persephone, she stood before him wrapped in a sheer nightgown, the creamy fabric barely hiding her delicacies. A mystic glow of sweet honey and amber gold rimmed her flesh, kissing down her clavicles and leading his enslaved gaze to the soft heaps at her chest.

By courtesy, he should have looked away, but the wish to incinerate the silken threads that retained whatever left of her modesty whispered in his ear like a little devil that sat on his shoulder. It was cruel of her to provoke him like this.

Quirking an eyebrow with disdain, he finally battled the sight away.

“Something ails you, girl.” Sherlock’s rich baritone dropped. Touching the pipe to his maw, he took a long whiff and suckled his lip. “You seem unnecessarily emotional,” he noted dryly, pretending as if her appearance was a mystery.

Noticing the uncaring shift in his tone, she scowled and stepped carefully into the room. Placing the lamp on a nearby stand, she purposely stepped into his line of sight and looked at the frowning detective with the feral wilderness growing inside her chest.

“You’re sending me away tomorrow,” an unmistakable hint of rage seeped between the cracks in her voice. Grasping her knuckles, she began striding back and forth across the Parisian rug as if lost in her own musings, “why? What have I done to you?”

A small huff escaped his nose, and he rubbed a finger beneath his bottom lip. His patience spread thin as the young lady scurried about with hysteria. The mere idea of bending her over and teaching her some discipline caused the fabric of his trousers to stretch over his engorging desire.

“You’ve done nothing wrong, it was simply my decision.” He answered, striving to sound neutral and remorseless. “A lady’s maid without a lady is useless in a place like this. But now, Vanessa, it’s late, and I’d like to get back to my book. No reason for you to stand here in your... undergarments.”  

Lips agape and feet nearly colliding on to one another, Vanessa paused on her steps. His words crept a chill down the length of her spine, making her cheeks blaze. Passionate and irrational, she never even noticed her lack of chastity when she left her room.

“I… didn’t think much, I was upset…”

‘Of course, she didn’t think much. Irrational, savage thing.’

A string twitched in Sherlock’s cheek, and a dark errant lock fell rogue upon his pale temple as he turned his head aside, adamant to brush her away. His self-restraint was but a delicate, dying leaf, hanging by its last yellowing strand.

“I came here to ask you to…”

“I’m afraid it’s not negotiable.” Sherlock interrupted and swatted his hand flat on the leather binding. His stern glance floated out the window, focusing on a large spider that threaded lines of silver amidst the peeling frames. “You will find a new job in London, a better house,” he apprised and took a deep inhale, turning the book over to open it where he paused. “Now please leave before we’ll both hurt one another.”

‘Before I will pierce cavities in your soft flesh.’

Stunned by his dismissive, arctic demeanour, her stubbornness and frustration only grew to monstrous proportions. With clenched fists and water pooling at her lids, she grunted and took a courageous step closer, standing at the fore of his couch while shaking her head.

“No!”

“No!?” he scowled, eyebrows lowering with dismay. “You forget your place, woman.” He flashed her a quick warning look, his icy glare tinted midnight black as he stood at his wit’s end.

If only it didn’t make her heart shrivel with wanton. Their proximity perilously close, Sherlock’s strong scent pervaded into her lungs: a musky blend of whiskey, leather, and fine tobacco that made her thighs wobble. Before she could even register what’s happening, her knees were brushing the thick carpet, her decorum and dignity gone.

“I want to stay here. With you.”  Slender like stalking vines, her fingers crawled onto the armchair, squeezing at the smooth leather with pitiable desperation.

“Keep me, please!”

“Vanessa,” Sherlock drawled, still refusing to meet her gaze while his thumb circled deep into the coarse binding. Furious tides rose in his eyes, whisked by the rageful storm that inhabited his mind, “Do not make me regret this night.”

He didn’t want to hurt her, but she was pretty when she begged.

“You don’t know what it is that you’re asking, I am not the gentleman you think I am.”

Ignoring his warning, she insisted. Daring, needy talons rose from the armchair to claw at his arm, clutching it with demand. Even through barriers, a surge flushed between their bodies.

“Sherlock,” she half-whispered, crystal droplets of sadness gliding down the smooth slope of her cheeks. Not caring the least as they dribbled onto the soft sleeve of his shirt, leaving tiny stains that dampened his arm.

“Guide me, teach me, make me yours!”

Nostrils flaring and breath rigid, the large man finally snapped his stare at her with the sanguine hunger of a starved vampire. The mask of his virtue fell shattering to the floor, and a harrowing silence took over the room, diffused only by the sound of crackling embers and Vanessa’s shaky breath.

“Remember this tomorrow when you’re raw and hurting; this is what your begging bought you, little Nessie.”

A strangled gasp died at her sternum as his hand suddenly grasped her throat. With a quick yank, she was up on her feet, her toes barely scraping the ground as the hulking man held her up to his face.

“Oh the things I’ll do to you..” he whispered as his thumb dug deep onto her cheek and the rest of his fingers etched at her throat.

Swinging on his boots, he swept her across the silent halls. His stride a dark ceremonial gyrate, the creamy fabric of her pristine nightgown floating mid-air like a sheer tongue of white morning mist.  

“I will make you mine as you begged,” he rasped barbarically, one hand pushing the door open while the other held her attached to his chest, “I will teach you what you asked…” his lips brushed her ear, his breath hot over her cheek, “your first lesson begins... in my bed.”

With a swift shove, she was forced into his realm. Feet stumbling upon the tepid wooden floor, her ears throbbed with shock. Her hands reached to grasp onto the engraved bed column to prevent herself from falling.

His bedroom smelled of dying roses and smoked wicks, echoing the putrid decadence that gnawed at Sherlock’s mind. A dozen melting candles burned in every secluded corner, their little orange tongues licking the reflection of a sizable mirror that stood opposite of his large bed.

A dull metallic click broke the air, followed by Vanessa’s sputtering breath as she saw him lock the door. Her faith sealed - now caged in the lair of the beast. Reduced to his own shimmering shadow, Sherlock advanced toward her, ripping his shirt off.

Fingers biting into the wooden pole, Vanessa stared, unable to determine if it was a man or a lycan god who stood before her. Every breath made his bare torso look menacing. Under the deep dusky twilight, his muscles curved and stretched, coated by a virile, dark fur.

Curious, her gaze followed the striking veins and the trail of unkempt hair that paved its way down his fine abdomen and disappeared beneath his trousers. Guiding to that which she feared and wanted at once.

Eyes of blue flame shone with absent remorse, brows arched with a pretentious demeanour as he reached a hand to seize her to him. “Your innocence dies here tonight,” he hissed in her ear, “from now on, you’ll be my little whore to plough as I please.”

The air died in her lungs as his firm chest collided with hers and his knee forced her legs apart. Bulging and muscular, his thigh rose to brush at her clit, the thin fabrics a shy barrier.

Shuddering, she swallowed hard in a dire battle to find her voice. “I will be whatever you need me to be,” she retorted as the thought of being exploited by her master released fluttering butterflies of fear and excitement in her chest.

Sherlock smirked and captured her jaw between his finger and thumb as he leaned in. Torrid lips hovered over her own, offering a phantom kiss to distract her from the greedy fingers that pushed the sleeves of the gown off her shoulders.

Like warm milk it poured down her body, exposing her delicacies to the night and to the gluttonous hands that kneaded her breasts while he flicked his tongue over her closed mouth, tasting the plumpness of her lips.

A true creature of the underworld, Sherlock’s touch was cruel like his promises; he took as he pleased, leaving his sigil seething on her skin. Her sputtering gasps served as an opportunity to invade her hot cavern. The detective’s kiss was even more ruthless, his tongue smooth as silk seized and conquered her breath.

She could feel him streaming in her blood, tasting him all the way down through her gut. Dark and intoxicating like poisonous absinthe, the promise of death swung amidst their hot, serpent-like dance.

Yet she only yearned to drink to her demise.

As if under a stupor, she swayed to his spells, bucking her hips to ground herself on the meat of his thigh, leaving the coarse fabric wet with sticky arousal. A condescending grin tugged at his lips, and his hand rushed to the back of her head, weaving through her hair and yanking her back.

“Already the wanton harlot,” he spat, swiftly turning her over and holding her against his chest. “Look at yourself,” he growled hoarsely in her ear, forcing her doe eyes to stare at their reflection. Sherlock rested his dimpled chin on the top of her head with his brows lowered like an apex predator examining his prey.

His hand disappeared behind, hastily fumbling with his trousers, “You wanted me to show you, you want to see,” he called as his trousers piled at his feet and he carefully stepped out.

Something hefty and hard nudged at the small of her back, turning her veins into thin tendrils of ice. Abysmal panic coiled at her gut at the realisation that Sherlock meant to reshape her as the vessel of his primal urge.

Hand snaking around her belly, he snatched her to fall back onto the mattress with him pillowing her fall. Her firm buttocks slid across his hairy abdomen, hands fumbling to grasp his thick thighs while her eyes flared at the sight of his hardened cock displayed in front of her in its full generous size.

It was nothing like the medical illustrations she saw in books: bulging tendons swerved across an imposing, meaty rod. Ridges rippled across its girth like soft silk, and the heart-shaped head dripped of glistening, pearly arousal.

Curious, her trembling hand wandered to feel him, stunned by the liquid-like texture that engulfed the absurd rigidness. By order of her touch, he twitched and swelled, causing the radiating heat at the apex of her groin to palpitate.

Pressing his lips to the shell of her ear, Sherlock growled, “Do you like what you see, little one?”

His taut hands reached to grasp her thighs, spreading her wide over each of his legs and holding them apart to expose her untouched sleek at the mirror. The thundering in his throat was nothing but animalistic as he glowered at her perfect sight: his little Nessie, his little untainted flower blooming fresh with dew, yearning to be plucked.

“Look at yourself,” Sherlock demanded with a whisper drenched of fervour. His coarse hand dragged to capture her chin and forced her to face the salacious spectacle reflected before them. Her breath shuddered; she saw their skin mapped onto one another, their bodies entangled and their souls unmasked.

How could something so forbidden be so beautiful?

“I dwell in the darkness, Vanessa.” Sherlock explained, his voice stroking her temple as his lips inched closer, “You must know that, you must have me as I am.”

He laved his tongue over her cheek as if he was tasting the sweetest delicacy and reached for his erection, stroking the pulsating girth between his fingers. Eyes still glued to their likeness on the glossy surface, she glanced as he pressed his pink, meaty tip between her dripping petals.

“Watch as I take something from you that can never be given back, something that will forever belong to me.”

“Sherl….”

His name died on her tongue, the moment forever lost in a loud shriek. Savagely and unceremoniously, he pried her virginal cunt open the way a predator rips at its prey’s throat. His massive shaft tore through her purity with no resistance to fight back against his brutal invasion.  

Pain rattled its way through her entire entity while the dark spectacle of the loss of her innocence played right in front of her eyes, spurring grievous tears. Lost to the bliss of her warm cavern, Sherlock chanted in loud groans, continuing to force himself all the way between her squeezing walls. Remorseless of her cries, he never stopped until every hollow inch inside her was full of his cock and his sac smacked against her stuffed opening.

“My! You feel good!” He panted with astonishment, his virility twitching within the lush sanctuary between her thighs. Noxious pride flowed in his veins at the reflection of the naked young girl, spread open with him inside her.

“Do you like having me inside you, my little harlot?”

“God!” Vanessa screamed, stunned by the sensation of him swelling at her core. His invasion seared, her legs trembled against his in a plea to be kept together. But he only stretched her wider, hooking both hands below her thighs.

“It will feel good in a little while,” he promised and slowly shifted his hips back. Inch by inch, his cock slid out of her now defiled slit, coated by blood and a sheer layer of arousal. It was something of decadent theatrics; his broad chest puffed against her spine, a blissful hum leaving his bobbing throat at the image of the crimson stain that decorated his sword.

“From this moment and beyond, this belongs to me,” he murmured, nuzzling her neck and planting wicked, butterfly kisses along the tender slope, “do you understand? Your little cunny is my property, your moans, your pleasure, all belong to me.”

Her cunt clenched around nothing as she watched his full length slipping out, tainted by broken purity, the empty void leaving pure urgency to course through her tendons. Hopeless for something she couldn’t even recognise, she whined and writhed on top of him. Her eyes levitated from their sexes to meet his icy glare.

“Sherlock, please, more! Please put yourself back inside me!!!”

“Fuck!” Sherlock rasped in awe of her wanton, his control nearly lapsed. Fingers digging into her thighs, he undulated his hips and pulled her down the length of his throbbing erection. Low melodies of pleasure rolled on his tongue as her wet cunt pressed around him again.

Gawking at the mirror, she nearly fell apart in his arms, cries of daze escaped her as Sherlock's drove back into her sleek. Every bit of his flesh unfolding hers, disappearing within her body to defy the loneliness aching in her cove until his entire shaft was lost in her depth and the tip of his cock hit something lush and tender. She could have sworn she felt him waver deep in her gut.

“Sherlock!!!” she cried, shutting her eyes at the sharp twinge that shuddered through her core.

“Don’t you dare close those eyes, dove,” he warned, and the authority in his voice left her no choice but to obey. Wickedly, his fingers slithered to the little nub of flesh above her slit and ruthlessly tugged at it to expose more of her battered sex. He continued to pound into her mercilessly, quickening the rhythm with each one of his thrusts.

“Look at you, taking me so obediently. Perhaps I was wrong about you, perhaps you are easily tamed.”

The thick bones of his hips crashed into her rump vigorously, his girth violently splitting her protesting walls. He was fast, wet, and hard inside her, his cock drilling into her over and over, every plunge stripping more layers of her soul and pushing her higher toward the heavens.

Enslaved to the beguiling aphrodisiac, she squirmed on top of him, her body beginning to push down to meet every thrust. The vision of herself being brutally taken by the large, civilised beast made the blood pool at the seams of her womanhood and tingle with frustration.

A shuddering quake began to spread within her, spiralling out in a sequence of spasms sourced at the spot where they connected. Bliss and ecstasy shattered her body and a sudden flush of pleasure exploded through her body as she came all over his cock.

Engulfed in her milking cunt, Sherlock could hardly believe what beheld his eyes. His beautiful nymph, coming undone around him, ethereal and divine. Her blissful chants a song to his ears only, she was like dryad humming a hymn to call upon a lonesome hunter.

“‘My Vanessa, I wanted you for so long.” He called, fucking her wildly through her orgasm. “Tell me you want me to come inside you,” he choked out on his grunts, her sugary walls closing around his thickness like a predatory flower, demanding to suckle his sweet elixir.

Still riding her climax, she shook her head, hesitant of speaking such profanities. But the stern glower on Sherlock’s face instantly forced her into submission.

“I want you to come … come inside me!” She panted and then screamed as another wave of intense rapture swept her away.

Her squeezing cunt forced the thick stream to vibrated through his shaft, making him drill into her with zeal. His fingers clutched her waist as he slammed her down onto his swollen cock, burying himself the deepest he could. Vanessa yipped as something hot sprouted into her, flooding her womb like a soothing kiss that slowly began trickling between their tight flesh.

Still locked in an embrace, they shivered together. Soft maple hues glimmered over their wet skin, their bodies heaving against one another while a symphony of pants and gasps filled the silence.

Sherlock’s glaciers sought to capture her reflection, a dark, brooding look on his sweat-silken face while his lips ghosted over her shoulder. There was no question in the rough expression of his face.

Nothing spoke louder than the possessiveness that pierced through the sharp reflection.

~*~

A tender stream of sunshower kissed her lids awake. The cerulean sky winked at her through the open window while her senses gingerly regained their functions after what felt like graveyard slumber. Finding herself alone, she wondered for a moment if the night before was only a fantasy; but this bed was too soft and far too large, and the sensation of shame licking between her thighs told her otherwise.

Even in his absence, Sherlock’s presence lingered. His pungent sweat layered on her skin, and from her torn seal trickled the pearly, forbidden essence of his loins. She allowed herself a moment of coy bliss, pressing her lips upon her bare shoulder to kiss the taste of him off her flesh when the thud of inching footsteps and creaking wood made her sit up with fright as if her presence was forbidden.

Huddling the blankets around her chest, she gulped as the door flung open.

Already dressed in a clean shirt, a vest of golden brown, and a long black jacket, the hulking man offered her a small wrinkle on his brow. Fine silks were folded on his forearm, and his eyes fell upon the naked beauty in his bed. A shadow of dark desire danced upon his slanted smirk as he noticed the little inkling of dry blood on the edge of the mattress.

“Slept well, my little Nessie?” He asked, passing a finger over his neatly combed locks before gesturing for her to approach him. Obedient as ever, his little servant quickly climbed out, immediately regretting her haste as a spear split through her core. With jolting legs, she swallowed her discomfort and approached him with her head lowered to the floor.

“No, we will have none of this,” Sherlock chided, his finger stalking beneath her chin to fix her stare on his. Their gazes met for a shy second and then he stepped back, unfolding the fabrics held beneath his arm.

A waterfall of black and crimson flowed down, hanging from his hands.

Vanessa’s eyes rounded with wonder; being a woman of lower status, she never owned anything as beautiful and expensive as the dress he held before her.

“Lift your arms, dove,” Sherlock commanded and she did as he bid.

The soft fabrics felt like warm liquid washing over her skin as Sherlock carefully slipped the dress over her head. His hands smoothly roamed her body, tugging at the delicate fabric to fit over her figure. The tall detective stepped to stand at her back and began working the laces of the corset embedded into the gown.

One by one, he tightened the silk binds as he pulled at the laces. Vanessa slightly hissed when her breasts squished against the generous cleavage.

“Forgive me,” Sherlock mumbled as he heard her distress, “I am not used to such… arrangements.”

“Arrangements?” she asked naively, though it quickly dawned on her that her dear master never had a wife or a mistress, which didn’t come much as a surprise after witnessing his bohemian desires the night before. And yet, no regret touched her heart as Sherlock pressed his hand over her torso and perched his chin atop her head once again.

“Look at us.” His lustrous eyes carried to the mirror, guiding hers to follow as he stroked his hand lower to flatten the folds of her dress and pushed her hair over her shoulders with the other.

“Don’t we make a pair?”

Glancing forward, Vanessa took a deep inhale. Crimson and black were unusually beautiful as they graced her figure. The rim of the cleavage was beaded with fine black jewels that gave her appearance an elegant, yet erotic flavour.

Taken by her new design, she allowed herself to be swallowed into Sherlock’s beautiful darkness.

She wouldn’t have him without it.

___________________________________

Additional notes: I don’t own Sherlock Holmes or Enola Holmes franchise. Thanks to @wondersofdreaming  @wolvesandhoundshowltogether and @sapphirescrolls for moral support. 

[thwispsings]

Atla modern!au headcanons

This is gonna be a long ride so buckle up folks 

Sokka has at least one clothing item with “women want me, fish fear me” (and i’m betting it’s a crop top)

Zuko has to wear a hearing aid on his scarred ear

His vision is also not great on that side

Sokka has a soccer mom car

He also is the type of friend to start screaming “I SWEAR TO TUI AND LA THIS CAR IS NOT GETTING OUT OF THIS GARAGE UNTIL EVERYONE HAS SEATBELTS ON!”

Sokka is just a huge soccer mom friend

While Sokka is the braincell holder of the group, Zuko is their impulse control

Zuko goes to occupational therapy

The white lotus is a tea tasting club, they have discount cards at Iroh’s teashop

Piandao is a master of the blades

Also distinguished gay

Bumi is basically a cryptid, he’s the jersey devil of omashu

Piandao also once got arrested for fighting cops at pride

No cops at pride just Piandao and his blades

Bato and Hakoda are peak Kevin and Holt (everyone’s dads)

Before they came out Sokka and Katara had a bet going on with Gran gran on whether they would realize everyone already knew or not (gran gran won)

Zuko cannot drive to save his life but he’s incredible good with a motorcycle 

Toph basically lives with Iroh and Zuko, they’re her emotional support family figures

They have family game nights but pai sho was banned after the “great table breaking incident of 2018”

Suki is a master of at least three different known martial arts and some not really known ones

She still stutters when talking to pretty girls

Once a pretty girl smiled at Suki and she tripped and almost fell down a flight of stairs

Whenever a girl flirts with her she looses her cool when a guy flirts with her she is always non-impressed

She and Sokka are the best exes, always trolling each other tho

When Zuko and Sokka started dating her first reaction was telling Zuko “honestly you could do better” 

Toph and Zuko convinced Iroh to start selling coffee on the Jasmine Dragon

Once Toph drank seven cans of redbull in a row just for shits and giggles, Iroh still has nightmares about that day

Whenever Zuko pulls all nighters Toph always puts him to bed, no one knows how

If you go for a non bending au then Druk is a bearded dragon or a ferret, i will not accept other animals

Zuko is the only person that Toph let squish her cheeks, she always giggles at it, it’s adorable, on the other hand, Toph is the only person allowed to touch his scar (she likes to map her friends’ faces with her fingers)

Toph also has an inclination to simply plop herself on Zuko’s lap, he’s warm and very comfortable and he always hugs her without saying anything

Toph knows how to braid her and always braids Zuko’s

Sokka is totally a tiktoker and a streamer

Aang watched too many tiktoks with Sokka and spent an entire month referring to Appa as “fluffly boy” only

Aang’s first friend, incredibly, was Zuko

Zuko painted blue arrows on a hoodie to give it to Aang when he complained about waiting for the tattoos

Aang cried

They are the type of friends that make constant references to events no one else knows about besides the two of them

Much similar to the Toph and Zuko situation, Sokka has adopted Aang as his little brother

They both have their daily Sokka&Aang time

Which usually involves laying with Appa and talking 

Sometimes cloud watching, they compete to see who finds the clouds with weirder shapes

Aang gets Katara flowers every year on her birthday

Their first date was at Iroh’s teashop (mostly so Zuko could be there to calm Aang down)

They hold hands whenever Aang feels overwhelmed

Aang made Katara a total of 37 friendship bracelets and 16 bead necklaces

The two go ice skating every two weeks

Katara has at one point convinced each one of her friends to let her do the hair loopies on them at least once

Katara once fought a guy on an Ihop parking lot and she won

The guy was Hahn and she fought him because he called Sokka a wimp

Katara, Sokka and Hakoda cry every time they watch Balto

Katara and Zuko share Ever after as their favorite movie

Katara is a golden medal swimmer 

Yue lost her hair due to chemo so she has a collection of pretty white wigs

Yue deffinetely cosplayed as Mara from She-ra

Piadao knows Zuko ever since he was five years old

He is actually both Zuko’s and Lu Ten’s godfather

One of his most prized possessions is a mug saying “world’s best godfather” that Zuko made on therapy and gave him for fathers day 

Iroh has a matching but with “world’s best uncle” 

Bumi and Aang became friends after Appa almost ran over him at a park, no one understands this friendship

Piandao and Zuko can communicate solely through nods and grunts, and both understand each other perfectly

*At the tea shop*

Piandao: *grunts and nods curtly*

Zuko: he wants the orange and spices tea and a croissant

*at Piandao’s dojo*

Zuko: *huffs and shakes his head*

Piandao: ah yes Zuko thanks for reminding me, i should see that with your uncle as soon as possible, do you think Jeong Jeong will be able to help?

Zuko: *grunts*

Piandao: no, you’re right, that’s a ridiculous idea

And now the crocverse hcs in honor to @nothing-more-than-hot-leaf-juice

Iroh non-ironically loves crocs

Once he said “let me put them on sports mode” before getting out of the house and Zuko was this close to crying

Bumi is a croc enthusiast 

He non-ironically loves the croc gloves

Bumi is the one who told Iroh about “four wheels drive”

The first time Sokka and Iroh quoted the “WHAT ARE THOSE” vine Zuko actually considered running away to live with Piandao

Jeong Jeong hates crocs with all of his being

Piandao dislikes crocs but he feigns ignorance just to watch the chaos unfold and Jeong Jeong get pissed

There’s a bet going on who’s gonna break Jeong Jeong first

Most of the bets are on Bumi

Piandao once wore a pair of crocs only to watch Jeong Jeong squirm and get all huffy

Sokka gave Iroh a teacup with little crocs painted on it for his birthday

Toph says crocs are the best kind of shoes because “they’re open” 

Iroh has almost as many crocs as he has teacups

[ask-hex-and-whitty]

Blaze flapped around the odd human creation. He still didn’t really understand most of what these people did. Apparently this was something called a ‘basketball court’. And it was for games! Games were nice, fire liked games. Spark did kind of wish there were more plants though… maybe spark could… They grabbed the leaf of a small dandelion at the edge of the court, a small orange glow coming from their hands. The dandelion grew rapidly, the seeds growing and falling off in a matter of seconds. The glow increased and the seeds began to sprout, making their own seeds which fell off and sprouted again and again, until the entire court was surrounded by gold and yellow flowers. There were some in the cracks in the pavement, many of them around the poles of the hoops, and hundreds surrounding the court. There were so many they almost looked like a halo. Blaze laughed, spinning around to look at his work. Bright was so glad bright still had brights angel powers. It exhausted him to do something so big though… his powers were a fraction of what they used to be.

Loki chuckled from his spot leaning against the wall, his tail lazily moving back and forth. The kid had done it again. They weren’t complaining though, it was fuckin adorable. He may or may not have been channeling power into Blaze to help him along. No one would know if he did or didn’t, but hypothetically. - @ask-the-celestial-au

The three had been making their way to the basketball court; it was one of the odd days in which Whitty stayed at Hex's instead of in his alleyway, so the robot saw that as reason enough to change their daily pattern ever so slightly. Usually the bombhead would arrive at the basketball court first, but today they were going together. They even had enough time to stop by his partner's favorite ice cream store. Well, favorite was a loose term, Whitty hadn't wanted to try out any others, no matter how much they tried to convince him to. It was endearing, really, how much he liked to keep his schedule the same day after day, even if at times it was a bit much. But it was only ice cream after all. The first thing they noticed was the laughing winged bombhead in the middle of the court, certainly not something they saw every day, either. The second thing they noticed was the sudden bloom in greenery around the field. Hex was the first one to snap out of it, approaching the winged stranger with a bright, welcoming smile.

"Hello! I haven't seen you around before. Did you do this? The plants? They're very pretty!"

He found them quite charming, really. If anything they spiced up the court, gave it more life.

[boxboysandotherwhump]

Nightmare

@whumpfigure s prompt: nightmares, brought this to life. Thank you so much for motivating e to fight through writers block <3

It’s sexy and unedited and full of sweet problematic dumbasses. Charlotte kinda borders on intimate whumper here but she really tries to do the right thing.

CW: old trauma coming back up, initiating slightly problematic spice to cope, Sahar is really sweet all begging to be hurt and Charlotte is only human okay?!

Sahar’s low whine woke her up.

There were shadows on the walls, darkness that hid in the crocked corners of Charlotte’s room. Gnarled branches painted bizarre shapes and sharp edged monsters on the wooden ceiling in their never ending dance with the moaning autumn breeze.

She’d learned that this shadowy phantasms were mere tricks of the light when she was little but one look at Sahars pale, crumpled face told her that the monsters forming and decaying in his mind every night were painfully, almost tangible real.

Charlotte wished she could reach into Sahars brain, right past the thick bone of his skull and deep between his rapid firing neurons to pull out whatever it was that tormented him and strangle it to death.

But you can’t kill the shadows of the past, nor exorcise them like the cursed ghosts they were. So she just brushed over his trembling lips, caught an escaping teardrop with cool fingertips and ghosted a feather light touch over the bruises on his neck. She felt almost guilty for having caused them, now that he looked so hauntingly fragile, whimpering and twitching in her bedsheets. 

The pale moonlight had washed all the color from his skin, even his hair looked lifeless and limb, as if the night had stolen a part of him away and only left the pained thrown of his brows and the mournful quiet moans spilling from bitten lips behind.

“Sahar.” Charlotte’s hand had traveled from his bruises, down his collar bone and up to his shoulder were she began to shake him gently. “Sahar wake up.”

Green bleary eyes blinked open, glistening with unshed tears, before Sahar shoot suddenly up right, eyes blown wide and frantically scanning the darkness, searching for whatever had plagued him in his dreams.

Charlotte laid a cool hand on his burning thigh. Anchoring him in the here and now. In her room, full of nooks and crannies over stuffed with the books she’d stolen from the orphanage’s library over the years. In the softness of her double bed, where the smooth ropes they’d used earlier were still loosely rapped around its wooden posts.

Sahars eyes landed on her.

“Hey.”

Chapped lips twitched into a lopsided smile and Charlotte suppressed the urge to kiss them swollen. She opened the water bottle from her nightstand instead and held it out to Sahar, who took it with still trembling fingers.

“Nightmare again?”

Gulping down a big swig of water Sahar nodded, ducking his head apologetically. “So- sorry for for- for waking you.”

Charlotte shook her head and the soft swoosh of her looks tickled her ear. “No need to apologize.”

Sahars lips pressed into a tight line. The corners of his mouth twitched, fighting to keep his pain sealed behind them. Green eyes were locked onto his right arm, fingers squeezing and rubbing over his skin in an attempt to sooth whatever aches lived within, burrowed so deep into his marrow they’d became a part of him.

Charlotte hated it when he tried to withhold even the tiniest bit of himself. She wanted everything of him, every whimper, every cry, even the ones not inflicted by her, even the ones Sahar would gladly cut out of his soul.

She cupped Sahar’s cheek and gently tilted his chin up. “I told you not to apologize.”

Green eyes met blue, just to flit away, to flutter close as Sahar inclined his head the tiniest fraction and pressed a warm open mouthed kiss to her palm.

“Still-,“ he mouthed, hot breath gusting over Charlotte’s skin and making her tremble like a leaf caught by a breeze. Warm rough fingers found her hand and guided her bruised knuckles to his lips. There was the hint of tongue on tender skin as Sahar kissed each one.

“You, you you you need your rest after, after the training session.”

“Don’t worry about me.”

“Always, always will.”

There was a tightness to Sahar’s smile as he finally met her eyes, the barely there shine of tears just waiting to well up again still glistened in his. An ocean of unshed tears eager to finally break free now that Sahar had begun to tear down the dam holding them.  

She leaned forward like a magnet being pulled towards its opposite part and pressed their lips together in a fervent kiss. Trying to devour all the pain that lived in her first true love and deliver him from it.

A soft moan escaped the space between their lips.

They shifted even closer and her hands wandered from his cheeks up into his hair, fisting in short brown locks. Sahar wrapped his arms around Charlotte with a quite hiss, eager to bury into her.

That was one of the sweetest things about him. Whenever Charlotte hurt him, he would nuzzle closer, try to hide and find shelter in the very person causing him pain. It took a lot to make him twist away.

But tonight she only wanted to hold him close and relish the soft motion of his lips against hers, the gentle curve of a smile as she gave his hair another deft tug. His head tipped back with a moan and she nuzzled against the exposed column of his throat.

“What if I don’t want to rest?”

“Well well well then then then then-,“ forcing a trembling breath through his nose and out of his mouth, hands smacking his thigh with a slap slap slap, Sahar looked at her. A flush painted his moonlight pale skin pink. Life had finally returned to him, bloomed and grew and drew Charlotte in like a flower did a bee. Her finger ghosted absentmindedly over his cheek bone and down to caress his parted lips. She resisted the urge to press her thumb against his tongue, have him lick her fingers in that sweet eager way of his.

No she wanted to hear what he had to say first. Encouraging him with a little hum.

He answered her with a smile in turn, closing his eyes and tapping his leg in an even rhythm.

“Then, would you, you hurt me?”

Charlotte’s breath hitched and even though she wanted to throw him on his back and leave crimson bite marks all over his neck right this instant, a part of her hesitated. Something about the shadows living under his eyes and creeping out of the hidden corners of his heart, felt not quite right.

“You know I love your sweet whimpers, but-“

“Please.” His eyes snapped open and bored into hers, burning with a haunted kind of desperation. “My, my my head is just so, so full with all all all those… thoughts… memories. Please can, can you make them them them stop. Just just for tonight? I I I- Ijust need to, to to feel and not think. Tonight.”

Something deep inside her heart cracked open at the sight of his big pleading eyes, the way his hands still smacked and tapped over his thighs, agitated. It was like a root breaking through stone, crumbling the little resistance she had had.

“Okay.”

Sahars lips bloomed into a smile and Charlotte pressed a kiss to the crown of his head. Her thumb stroked gently over the soft hairs of his neck, as she whispered. “Be my good boy then and get the cane.”

“Yes.”

[scone-lover]

Brown Butter Chai Scones

Presenting by popular request, Brown Butter Chai Scones. Recipe by Simon Snow of Watford Bakery 😉❤️

These scones are HEAVENLY. I think I could die just from eating them. I gave myself a stomachache this morning. The brown butter gives them a warm, complex flavour, and combined with the chai spices, it’s just divine.

 Actually, I think Baz said it best in Chapter 18 of Holding Out For a Hero:

I try to maintain my scowl, but Simon literally feeds me a piece of scone, and I’m reduced to a pile of mush. This is humiliating.

“What do you think?” he asks.

I never understood when people used the term foodgasm, but I do now—the flavours are all melding together in my mouth. This scone is pure ecstasy.

“What the fuck is in this, Snow? Drugs? Magic?”

Simon’s eyebrows knit together. “Brown butter and chai spices,” he says earnestly.

I could kiss him. I could kiss this scone.

“This,” I say, holding up the scone. “This is why I date you.”

They’re definitely magic.

I completely imagined these up for the chapter, but then I started getting requests for the recipe -- which didn’t exist! 😂 Luckily these turned out fantastic, so this recipe is a winner.

The brown butter flavour requires some planning ahead and a time commitment, but it’s WORTH IT. If you’ve never had brown butter, just imagine butter, except it’s made of toffee and happiness. That’s it, that’s the whole thing.

I’ve included some weight measurements in the recipe this time for exactness!

RECIPE

BROWN BUTTER CHAI SCONES

Makes: 6 scones

**Requires some planning ahead: about 12 hours in advance!**

Ingredients:

1 ¼ cup all-purpose flour - 180g

¼ cup sugar - 40g

¼ teaspoon salt 

1 teaspoon baking powder

1 chai tea bag, or approx 1 tablespoon chai spices

4 tablespoons brown butter, COLD -- must make in advance!

⅓ cup heavy cream, plus extra for brushing - 80g + extra

1 large egg yolk

1/4 teaspoon vanilla extract

Directions:

Several hours before you want to make the scones, make brown butter. Take about 8 tablespoons of butter, or one stick, and melt it over low heat in a pot. Continue melting, stirring occasionally, until the butter turns brown and fragrant. The volume should reduce by about ⅓. Remove from heat and mix well so that the butter and milk solids are combined. Line a container with parchment paper and spoon in four tablespoons of the brown butter, then place it in the fridge until fully solid. If you have extra brown butter, you can use it for other desserts. Click here for a full brown butter tutorial.

Preheat the oven to 400ºF (205ºC).

In a bowl, stir together the flour, sugar, salt, chai, baking soda, and baking powder.

Cut the brown butter into squares and add it to the flour mixture. Work the butter into the flour mixture using a pastry cutter, forks or knives, or your hands. It should be evenly distributed in pieces the size of peas.

Whisk together the egg yolk, vanilla, and heavy cream in a separate bowl. Pour it into the dry ingredients and incorporate using a spatula. The dough should be shaggy but not too dry.

Place the dough on a lightly floured surface and shape it into a circle about an inch thick. Cut six triangles.

Place the scones on a baking sheet lined with parchment paper. Brush the top of each piece with heavy cream.

Bake for 13-15 minutes, until the scones are golden brown on the edges and a toothpick comes out clean. Enjoy!

STEP BY STEP - CLICK BELOW

Making brown butter

Melt the butter on low heat. Be patient and keep at it until it turns brown!

Lining the container with parchment makes it easy to get the butter out once it’s solidified.

The next morning, or whenever you want scones: get your ingredients!

Mix together all the dry ingredients. If you’re using a teabag, just cut it open and pour it in. I wouldn’t recommend using loose leaf tea, since the leaves tend to be a bit larger.

Cut your butter. Since the water content in this butter has been cooked off, it was harder to incorporate. I still used my hands but you can definitely use a pastry cutter or some other tool if you wish!

Add the wet ingredients and mix it up. The texture shown below is slightly dry and I had to add another teaspoon or so of cream to make the dough come together.

Pour it out onto the counter and push it all together with your hands.

Cut it into six pieces and arrange them on the baking sheet.

Brush the tops with heavy cream. Don’t skip this - it’s heavenly and makes the texture *chefs kiss* perfect.

Slide them into the oven for 13-15 minutes!

Bon appetit. Simon Snow would be proud of you.

[danurso]

Taming a beast

Today was a good day, Weiss finally managed to unpack everything at her new home, placing all of her belongings on their new places. Winter was also coming to visit in just a few hours for dinner and Weiss had given herself the task of making Winter the best dinner she ever had. Weiss wasn't really a great cook but luckily for her, Jaune and Ren were, and they didn't hesitate to help her to hone her cooking skills.

So now she was standing in her new kitchen, checking the tray in the oven and hoping that what she was preparing for dinner could impress not only her sister, but her boyfriend as well.

Weiss: *sighs, taking off her kitchen gloves and wiping a few drops of sweat from her forehead* okay, i think a few more minutes is enough. Now all i have to do is wait. *takes off her apron and walks to the living room, sitting on the couch and pulling out her scroll.*

Weiss: *staring at her wallpaper, a picture of her in a light blue dress during yang and jaune's marriage, with her boyfriend on a suit holding her close* . . . *sighs* i wonder how long until you come home.

As if for a cue, she heard the door of her home opening and then being slammed shut, the sound was quickly followed by a few footsteps coming in the direction of the living room.

Weiss: *looks back at the doorway as a red haired man walks in* hi adam.

Adam: *ignores her with a scowl, walking to the table and putting down his bags*

Weiss: *gets up and walks to him* adam?

Adam: *finishes putting down his stuff, placing both hands on the table and taking a deep breath* hey.

Weiss: are you okay?

Adam: *rummaging through his stuff* yeah.

Weiss: what are you doing?

Adam: nothing. *pulls out his sword, walking to the door right after*

Weiss: *stands on his way with crossed arms*

Adam: get out of my way weiss.

Weiss: where are you going? And why do you need your sword?

Adam: it doesn't matter.

Weiss: i think it does, can you tell me?

Adam: *clenches jaw* you don't need to know, now get out of my way.

Weiss: yes i do need to now, now tell me or i'm not letting you through this door.

Adam: just get out of my way!!

Weiss: no.

Adam: and why not!? Do you think i'm gonna go after a group of innocent people too!? You think i'm gonna attack humans mindlessly!? You think i'm gonna go on a rampage like an wild angry animal like them!?

Weiss: *staring into his eyes* . . .you do know that's not what i'm thinking right?

Adam: *looks away, taking deep breaths*

Weiss: adam, what happened?

Adam: nothing, i just need to go out and hunt some grimm, that's all. Can you let me by now?

Weiss: only when you tell me what got you so angry.

Adam: im not angry.

Weiss: then why did you just shouted like that?

Adam: did someone already told you that you ask too many questions?

Weiss: try being ruby's partner for six years and you'll end up just like me. now, care to tell me what happened?

Adam: nothing, it's just been a rough week and i have a lot of steam to let out.

Weiss: does it has anything to do with the meeting?

Adam flinched as his jaw clenched, Weiss didn't needed an answer to know she was right.

It's been a tough road for adam since he turned to a new leaf, most humans hated him everything he did, as did most of the faunus. Nowadays he worked with blake, both to help Blake to archive equality and to show to the others that he isn't the same Adam from the past.

Unfortunately, most people didn't saw adam how weiss did, they didn't knew that he had changed since his killer days. Yes, most of his personality was the same and he sometimes gets as scary as his old self, but he doesn't kill anymore and now at least he's fighting on the good side, even if most people didn't wanted to see that.

Weiss: thought so. Care to tell me what happened there?

Adam: for the last time, nothing-

Weiss: if you don't tell me i'll call blake, or even better sun, you know how loose his tongue is, right?

Adam: . . .

Weiss: so, who's going to tell me what really happened?

Adam: . . . *sighs*

Weiss: so?

Adam: . . .they beat me. . .until i could barely hold myself on my feet.

Weiss: *eyes wide* what!? How!?

Adam: i went to the conference with blake, sun and ilia, it was the big day for us, all of our fighting finally gave results and on the next day we would sign the papers along with the council to make so every faunus had the exact same rights as humans, that was supposed to be a good thing but of course, to the humans it wasn't.

Weiss: . . .

Adam: *hands clenched into fists* from the moment we stepped out of the bullhead to the moment we got back to it, we were always surrounded by racist bastards who kept insulting us without a rest.

Weiss: i thought you didn't bothered with insults anymore.

Adam: and i don't, mostly, but apparently being me walking down that bullhead made things much worse, they kept throwing rocks at me, calling me a murderer, telling me to die and how they wanted to kill me. . .

Weiss: a-adam, i. . .

Adam: *jaw clenches* but that wasn't all of course, it would be too easy if it was.

Weiss: what happened?

Adam: at night, one day before signing the treaty, one of the council members called me for a private talk, but when i got there he along with other six people ambushed me. . .they kept beating me while throwing every insult they could think on.

Weiss: *shocked* a-and what did you do?

Adam: nothing, i just took the beating without fighting back.

Weiss: but why!?

Adam: because if i fought back and harmed not only humans but a member of the council, the treaty would probably be revoked and all we fought until now would be for nothing!!!

Weiss: . . .

Adam: *looking away with a scowl* i'm tired of these damn humans! All we're doing is fighting to be seen and treated as equals! But they insist that our place is under their damn boots! I try to change for the better and fight on the right side but the more i fight the more i see how pointless that is!! *grip tightens on his sword* in days like this all i can think about is to go after every single of those bastards and ki-

Weiss: adam!!

Adam: WHAT!?

Adam snapped back at weiss, staring directly her. He honestly expected her to be scared or disgusted with him, but all he could see in her eyes was worry and concern, she was giving him a serious look but her eyes still told him what she was really thinking.

Weiss: are you listening to what you're saying? You're not like that anymore adam.

Adam: how are you so sure of that!? I'm trying my best to change but by the end of the day i'll always be the same person everyone is afraid of! a murderer! a killer!! A DAMN MONSTER!!!

Weiss: you are not a monster.

Adam: why are you so sure!? Everyone sees me as a monster! For all i know i can wake up one day alone because you ran away from me! From this worthless monster everyone hates!!

Adam shouted once more, he was angry, after spending a whole week being target of hatred from humans weiss honestly could blame him, nor could she blame him for not being able to listen to her at the moment, yet, she needed to deliver her message, and if he wasn't going to listen her when she's talking, she would make him listen to her in a different way.

And so, weiss snatched adam's sword from his hand while ignoring his protests, he tried to take it back but she held his hand and dragged him to the couch.

Adam: what the hell are you doing!?

Weiss: just come with me and stop complaining.

Adam: weiss-

Weiss: if you don't wanna listen what i'm saying, at least try to listen to this. *sits down on the couch, pulling him along and resting his head on her lap.*

Adam: just what are you planning to do now? Just let me go already!

Weiss: . . . *slowly inhales and then exhales*

Adam: weiss?

Weiss: Hush your cries 🎶

Close your eyes

Stay with me

Let's just dream

Quietly

Of what might be

Calm your fear

I'll be near

To you, I'll cling

Rest, my friend

Time can mend

Many things 🎶

Adam: why are you singing all of a sudden?

Weiss: I don't know the answers 🎶

Tomorrow's still unknown

But I can make this promise

You won't be alone 🎶

Adam: weiss, what-

Weiss: *stroking his hair* I don't know where we should go 🎶

Just feeling farther from our goal

I don't know what path we will be shown

But I know that when I'm with you I'm at home

Yes, I know that when I'm with you I'm at home 🎶

Adam: *looks away* you're crazy.

Weiss: There's a quiet place 🎶

In my embrace

A haven of safety where

I'll dry your tears

Shelter here

In my care 🎶

Adam: *slowly looking back at her*

Weiss: But even when we stumble 🎶

And someday when we fall

What I will remember

That I had you through it all 🎶

Adam: . . . 

Weiss: I don't know where we should go 🎶

Just feeling farther from our goal

I don't know what path we will be shown

But I know that when I'm with you I'm at home

Yes, I know that when I'm with you I'm at home. . . 🎶

Adam: *silently staring at her angelic face*

Weiss: Yes, I know that when I'm with you I'm at home. 🎶

At the end of the song, adam was still silently staring at her face. He might not have realized but while she sang to him his expression slowly softened, and the precious scowl he was carrying was nowhere to be seen anymore, all there was left now was a calm expression, with admiring eyes locked on the white haired angel stroking his hair.

Weiss: so, feeling better?

Adam: . . .maybe.

Weiss: *with a small smile* i think that's good enough for me.

*plim*

Weiss: now if you excuse me, i need to go see the oven. *gets up, walking to the kitchen.*

Adam: . . . *staring as she leaves*

. . .

Weiss: *humming while taking the tray out of the oven*

Adam: *walks in* . . .

Weiss: *with her back turned to him and putting some spices on the tray*

Adam: weiss?

Weiss: yes?

Adam: how. . .how did you do that?

Weiss: how did i do what?

Adam: you know what i'm talking about. Five minutes ago all i wanted was to pounce at the throat of the first human i saw but now i don't care about that anymore, i'm a lot calmer actually. How did you do that?

Weiss: well, i just saw somewhere that music can help to calm down wild animals.

Adam: *narrowing his eyes* . . .did you just called me an animal.

Weiss: *chuckles shortly while placing the tray back in the oven* i called you wild you dork.

Adam: . . .can't say anything about that.

Weiss: yeah, you can't, because you're a wild dork. I know a lot people keep saying bad things about you because they still see the old adam instead of the new one, but i'm not one of the peoples *turns back to him* they might see you as a monster but i know better, and as long as you need me i'll be here for you, so stop thinking about yourself as a monster, you're clearly not one anymore.

Adam: i know. . . *sigh* thank you weiss. And sorry for screaming at you earlier.

Weiss: its okay, no need to thank me, I'm in a great mood since winter is coming to visit.

Adam: . . .

Weiss: Oh, but just so you know, if you ever shout like that to me again. *with a scary smile* i'll show you what a real monster looks like, understood?

Adam: *shivers* y-yeah, understood.

Weiss: good, now come here and give it a taste.

Adam: okay *tasting her food* . . .it's good, when did you learned how to cook?

Weiss: i've been getting classes from jaune and ren, i can't always rely on you to cook for us, specially now that you're always so busier than normal.

Adam: you know i don't mind cooking for us, right?

Weiss: i know, *facing him again* but what's wrong with a girl wanting to cook for her sister and her boyfriend?

Adam: nothing. *with a small grin* you never cease to surprise me snowball.

Weiss: good to know that i don't bore you.

Adam: you never did, life is never boring with you around.

Weiss: i could say the same, although i'm not very fond of the excitement you usually bring me.

Adam: really? Because i can't remember you complaining about it that much, specially when we invaded your father's office just to have se-

Weiss: and thaaaaat's enough! Why don't we forget about the past for now and focus on the present? *turns around and goes back to cooking*

Adam: agreed. *walks closer and hugs her waist from behind* why focus on the past when i have you here right now?

Weiss: *pink* a-adam, now is not the time for thIS!

Adam: *kissing her neck*

Weiss: w-wait *breaks free and turns around* winter is going to arrive in one hour and i still-mhmn.

Adam: *pulls her into a kiss*

Weiss: *melting on his arms*

Adam: *lifts weiss, placing her on the table and breaking the kiss* cooking can wait, i've been out for a week and all i can think right now is making up for the lost time.

Weiss: *red* . . .f-fine, but lets do it quickly, okay?

Adam: not making any promises. *pulls her into another kiss*

Weiss: *wraps her arms around his neck and starts making out heatedly with him*

Bônus:

*an hour later*

Winter: *knocks on the door*

Weiss: h-hey, wait! Stop!

Winter: weiss?

Weiss: let me go! Stop!

Winter: *pulls out her saber and kicks door open* weiss! Are you okay-

Weiss: *naked with a towel around her torso and giggling*

Adam: *naked with a towel around his waist and holding weiss from behind while nibbling her neck*

Winter: . . .can someone tell me what is happening?

Weiss: *freezes* o-oh my god, winter!?

Adam: . . .

Weiss: i can explain!

Winter: . . .i'm not sure if i want or even need an explanation.

Weiss: w-we're just-

Adam: about to go for round four, so if you excuse us. *goes back to bitting weiss' neck*

Weiss: *red* a-adam!!

Winter: i understand, i'll be back in half an hour. *leaves*

Weiss: winter, w-wait!

Adam: you heard her, we still have half an hour left. *goes back to kissing her neck.

Weiss: w-wait, mhmn, stop it already you dork!

Adam: *grinning* no.

*outside*

Winter: *sigh* out of every single man in the world it had to be him, why did it had to be him?

*plim*

Winter: *pulls out her scroll and reads a message*

'after you're done with your sister i'll be waiting at your ap'

-Q

Winter: *taps on the attachment, opening a image of a grinning shirtless qrow who likely just came out of her bath.*

Winter: *red* damn you bad boys! why are you so effective on schnees!? damn you all!!

[rhetoricalrogue]

31 Days of Wayhaven, Day 17

Prompt: AU Rating: PG for Nicky’s language Words: 2,222 Characters: Unit Charlie, brief mention of Units Alpha and Bravo, as well as Detective Aubrey Miller. Summary: What happens when the coffee shop co-worker and the University co-worker get tired of their partners sighing over the other and decide to take matters into their own hands.  

For the @31daysofwayhaven event.

Penny rolled her eyes as she came into work, hanging her coat on the nearby staff coat rack.  Nicky had gotten there earlier than she had, which meant that he got to pick the music for the day, which also meant that she was going to be in for a day of listening to him sing along with Dean Martin.  Not that it was a bad thing, but they’d done an entire shift of the Rat Pack the other day already.

“You’re late.”

She grimaced as she pulled on a dark brown apron and quickly pulled the strings around her waist to make a tidy bow at her hip.  “Yeah, car trouble.”

Nicky shook his head.  “You really ought to sell that thing, get you a new one.”

“With what money?  No, the car trouble was because my brother decided to borrow it without asking me.  I woke up to a note and had to grab the bus.  Then the bus wasn’t on time, so I walked the rest of the way.”

He poured her a drink, a smooth hazelnut latte with a dusting of chocolate on top that he made perfectly to her tastes.  At least that was something to cheer her up on a rainy morning, especially since he was practicing his foam art and made her a graceful looking swan on top.  She caught a glimpse of herself in the stainless steel overhead countertops and winced.  The soft, drizzling rain wasn’t  enough to soak her or anything, but it had played hell with her long, silvery blonde hair.  The sleek braided bun she had put it in earlier was now a frizzed out mess and her cheeks were unnaturally red from practically running to the cafe in order to be there on time.

Penny hated being late to anything.

“You’re too soft on Lars,” Nicky told her, pushing half a toasted bagel loaded with cream cheese her way while eating the other half.  “He needs to have some responsibility, especially if he’s couch surfing at your place.”

Penny chewed on her bagel.  “You don’t understand, he’s my baby brother.  It’s my job to look out for him.  Besides,” she took a sip of her drink.  “He was going out for a job interview.  Hopefully this one takes.”  She adored her youngest brother to pieces, and she understood that he was in a rough patch, but at the same time, she was quietly frustrated that he showed up at her doorstep without calling first, ate all her food without shopping for replacements, and left his dirty laundry on the bathroom floor.  She was going to have to have a talk with him once they were home to set some boundaries down.  If not, then she would happily call their eldest brother Andreas to see if he could help out before calling the big guns in and contacting their mother.

She hated to jump around in the family pecking order, but enough was enough. 

“I can relate, seeing as I have a little sister, but I still say you’re being too soft on him.  There’s a fine line between older sibling responsibility and being a doormat.”

“I know, and you’re right.  Taking my car without my permission and making me late for work is definitely something I’m going to talk with him about.”

Nicky made a mmhm noise as if he didn’t quite believe her.  “Don’t worry, Pen.” Nicky told her, changing the subject as he made his own cortado and leaned against the counter to sip on it.  “You didn’t miss him.”

She was glad that her red cheeks could hide the sudden blush that she felt rush up from her throat to her face.  “Miss who?”

“Oh, don’t play coy with me, donna forte!”  He elbowed her in the side.  “The Tall London Fog with the soft Scottish accent.  The one who looks like a golden retriever if a golden retriever was over six feet tall and had dimples when he smiled.”

“Careful, you make me think you’re the one with the crush on him,”  Penny muttered as she sipped on her drink.

“Please, I know I’m handsome and charming, but I’m not an asshole.  I wouldn’t steal anyone from my dearest friend and co-worker.”

“You’re not stealing anyone from anybody,” she grumped.

“Maybe if you actually got off your ass and asked him out.”

“He’s a customer!” 

“Like that’s ever stopped anyone that works here!  I mean, have you seen what the Bravo shift is up to lately?  There’s good money on when Adam’ll get the courage up to ask Miss Grande Half-Caff Nonfat Latte with Caramel Drizzle out before the end of the month.”

Penny rolled her eyes.  “Adam?  Admitting he has feelings for anyone?  I give him a year, minimum.”

“Hello, Pot.  I’d like to introduce you to Kettle.”  He turned to wash out the things he’d used to make their drinks and kicked at her calf.  “Speaking of not admitting feelings, here comes London Fog and Dirty Chai.”

Penny masked the sudden lurch in her pulse by twirling around and grabbing the loose leaf tea from an overhead shelf and measured enough into a French Press, adding a spice mix and a little bit of fresh ginger before pouring in hot water to steep.  She grabbed the canister of lavender Earl Grey she knew he liked and did the same in a separate French Press while Nicky called out a greeting, confirming that they both wanted their usuals.

“Actually,” London Fog said, coming up to the counter.  “Could I add something a little more substantial?  Perhaps one of those sausage rolls and a slice of pumpkin loaf?  I fear today is going to be a long one, seeing as it’s grading season.”

“Oh?  You’re a teacher then?”

“He’s a professor,” Dirty Chai interjected, already setting up her laptop.  She’d moved from their usual two-person table to a larger four-person one so the both of them could spread out.  “Don’t let him get modest; he’s brilliant in his field.”

Penny looked over her shoulder as she brewed a double shot espresso to add to the chai.  “Where do you lecture at?”

The soft question had him looking up at her with an equally soft smile before he quickly looked down, suddenly very interested in the counter’s bakery display.  “Wayhaven University.  I’m one of the Professors in the Folklore and Ethnomusicology department.”

Nicky took over building their order when another person came in and distracted Penny.  “What a coincidence,” he all but purred.  “Our dearest Penelope is studying on that campus!”  He caught the sudden interest London Fog gave and leaned conspiratorially against the counter. “She’s going back for her master’s degree, if I remember correctly.”

“Oh?  What study?”

“You know, for the life of me, I can’t recall.  Sounds like an interesting question to ask her though, Professor…?” Nicky trailed off, realizing that neither he or Penny knew their regulars by name, only by order.

“Buchanan.  Cameron.”

“Call him Cam,” Dirty Chai said, taking her order and sipping with a happy sigh.  “I’m Winona.”

“Nice to finally meet you both.  I’ll go warm up that sausage roll for you.”  On his way to the back kitchen, Nicky nudged Penny with his shoulder, silently winking at her.  She turned her face so Cam and Winona wouldn’t be able to see her expression and narrowed her eyes at her partner before going back to helping the short line of customers that had already started to form for the morning, shaking her head as the first heartfelt strings of Come Back to Sorrento could be heard coming out of the kitchen, Nicky’s smooth baritone making one of the ladies in line sigh dreamily.

Penny transitioned from building orders to taking payment while Nicky bustled in behind her on cleanup and prep duty, the two of them working well.  Every so often, her eyes would stray to Cameron and Winona’s table, the two of them with their heads down and fingers clacking over their laptops. Two hours later, Cameron was looking at his watch and cursing under his breath while quickly packing his things away.

“Thanks for letting us stay so long,” he said, sticking money in the tip jar.

“It was nothing,” she told him, fiercely hoping he didn’t catch the way the tips of her ears were a bright pink.  “I’m glad you could stay with me - us long enough to get some grading done.”

He smiled and she couldn’t help but mirror the same smile back.  “I’d have loved to spend more time, but my office hours are going to be starting soon and I usually have a few students wanting to talk around this time of the year.”

“We’re always here in the mornings!”  Oh, smooth one, Fisher, she thought, mentally kicking herself for forgetting how to talk to people when the person in question was one she had a silly crush on.  Don’t flirt with customers, it’s just an awkward experience for everyone involved!

Cameron nodded.  “And stopping by is always a great start to my day.  Your partner mentioned you were studying at the university?”

“I am.”

Cameron shouldered his laptop bag and smiled again.  “Maybe we’ll run into the other on campus then.”

“I’d like that.”

“I would too.”  He blinked, as if he had been reluctant to break eye contact.  “Well, I’d better get going, or else I’m going to miss some student appointments.  I’ll see you tomorrow?” 

“Bright and early!”  Or so she hoped.  She really was going to have to speak with Lars about him getting his own transportation.  Penny sighed as the bell over the door chimed and tried - and failed - to not watch as Cameron walked down the street.

“He’s not that old.”  

Penny jumped at the sudden appearance of Winona at the counter.  “Pardon?”

“Cam.  He’s not that old, just in case you were worried he was some stuffy professor with a really good skin regimen.”

She let out a nervous laugh.  “I wasn’t…” Penny nervously tucked a stray bit of hair behind her ear.  “I mean, I didn’t want to presume…”

“Like I said, Cam’s brilliant in his field and made career moves way before the usual timeline.  I’m guessing he’s around your age.”  She put more money in the tip jar.  “You know, if that was a deal-breaker for you.”  Before Penny could say anything in response, Winona waved and left.

Penny ran a hand down her face before frowning.  There was something other than money in the tip jar.  Curiosity getting the best of her, she fished it out, finding it was a business card with all of Cameron’s information on it.

FYI, a woman’s loopy handwriting in bright red ink read at the bottom, your partner wrote down your phone number on a napkin when he gave Cam his order.  Thought I should even the playing field and give you his too.

Penny’s eyes widened as she flipped the card over.  And BTW, he thinks you’re cute too.

“Whatcha got?”  Penny all but jumped out of her skin at the sound of Nicky’s voice unexpectedly at her ear as he tried to look at the card in her hands.

“Nothing!” she yelped, clutching it close to her chest before sticking it into her apron’s pocket.  Turning around, she grabbed Nicky by the ear.  “And what are you doing, giving strange men my phone number!”

Nicky winced, leaning down as he tried to wiggle away from her grasp.  “He’s not strange, Pen!  He’s a regular!  Practically family!  Ow, fuck!”

She let his ear go.  “You could have asked me if it was okay first!”

Nicky rubbed at his ear and rolled his eyes.  “Yeah, and at the glacier pace that either of you were moving, you may have gone out for drinks when you were both eighty.”  

She washed her hands at the prep sink and started making sure that everything they’d used was washed and ready for a new order.  Lunchtime was a sort of quiet lull, they got a few regular orders in, but it wasn’t anywhere near the morning rush.  She checked the schedule.  The Alpha shift was coming in for the afternoon to evening times, which meant that she needed to come in a little earlier tomorrow morning to make sure that things had been properly cleaned and organized and that the morning breakfast items were fully stocked.  She loved them to pieces, but Tane and Maaka weren’t the most organized of duos.  She made a mental note to check the to-go cups as well: Tane had a habit of using a marker to black out the Warning, your contents are extremely hot and make it read Warning, you are extremely hot instead.

The good thing is that on dead nights, the brothers would come up with some interesting off the menu recipes and leave notes for her and Nicky to try in the morning.  Maaka was more organized than his brother and the notes were always fun to read, especially when he added his own commentary.

“You never know,” she told Nicky, the business card in her pocket weighing far heavier than it ought to.  “I just may surprise you.”

Cha cha cha d'amour

Take this song to my lover

Shoo shoo little bird

Go and find my love

[an-ambivalent]

Hi! I send the ask about the Yandere sasuke and Madara. I really just want to be surprised lol. Maybe Madara is trying to convince his wife to leave the village with him. Maybe Sasuke’s love interest is in the same search team as Naruto and is looking for him (shuppiden era ofc). Anything works really. I just want to be surprised lol 😂. But female lead pls? THANK YOU AGAIN ❤️

I used your prompts as a loose guideline :) hope you like this! Thank you for requesting! We all know how much we need yandere! Uchiha fanfictions to spice up our lives 🤧

Warning: As this is yandere fiction, this deals with unethical behaviours  that can be uncomfortable and triggering to read. Read at your own risk. This work is purely fictional, I do not condone this behaviour irl.

Yandere! Madara leaving the village with his wife 

Your mission to seduce Madara had gone a bit too well. 

See, you had been assigned a secret assignment that that was known only by you and Tobirama – him being the one who had given you this mission. 

You were from a small clan that was somewhat strong, but nowhere the skill level that was possessed by the Uchiha and the Senju; your clan was on the brink of war with another that was much more powerful, and surely, would leave your family extinct. In the last hopes to save your family, you had ended up reaching out to the Senju, more specifically, Tobirama. In exchange for protecting your clan, not only did your clan have to submit themselves under the Senju’s rule for the rest of the living days, but Tobirama had assigned a very special task to you. 

“At the expense of your own life to protect your clan, risk yourself. Become close to Madara Uchiha, and report back all of his suspicious activities and the Uchiha’s plans to me,” Tobirama had ordered simply. 

To this day, you still wondered how you managed to coax Madara, but the reality was that you did; and you did not realise the weight of your own actions until it was too late. 

Undoubtedly, the situation of your assignment had escalated to the point of no return. You knew how vengeful Madara was against those who wronged him. That fear of what would happen if you ever refused him, or what he would do to your clan if he found out the truth of why you were actually with him, kept you rooted to obey whatever he desired from you. Whatever he wanted, you gave it to him, until this very moment. 

The cold touch of his warm hand burnt as the awful reminder of your reality, and kept you spiraling down into madness. There was regret for all of your choices: accepting Tobirama’s condition, choosing to sacrifice yourself for your clan’s safety when they did nothing but dishonour you for siding with the traitor, not knowing that you were doing it to protect them, and  letting your fear of what Madara was capable of control and weaken you. These regrets made your stomach churn and you felt the sensation of nausea in your mouth. 

Madara’s breath fanned your face, and he tenderly cupped your cheek with his hands. In the darkness of the night, his usual onyx eyes blazed a crimson red; it was a warning of the depths he was willing to reach if you dare to defy him now, of all the times. 

“We’re leaving the village,” Madara announced as a firm statement, leaving no room for argument. 

Despite your crippling fear, you opened your mouth to speak. Despite all the odds, you hoped to stand up for yourself for once. 

However, the moment the sharp corner of a kunai pricked the delicate flesh of your neck, and drew blood that matched the colour of Madara’s eyes as a warning, your hope vanquished the moment it was there. 

��You have no choice. I know all about your little mission that Tobirama assigned you,” Madara whispered with a voice as smooth as honey. He tucked a lock of your hair behind your ear, and due to his spoken words, your eyes were widened. 

“You should be grateful that someone like me actually even bothers with someone of a low ranking as you, and that I’ve decided to take pity on you. No one else cares about you, no one else will. You’re shunned by your own clan. Me, I’m the only one who has ever given a damn about you. So show me some appreciation by being a good girl alright?” He muttered, and then captured your lips with his in a deep kiss. 

And like the conformist you were, you returned it. Tears welled up in the corner of your eyes, but there was nothing else to do. There was nothing else left for you except for the life Madara had in store for you. So, you reached out your hands, and tangled your fingers in the raven hair of the devil that was your sole salvation, and sealed your fate with him with this kiss for all eternity. 

Sasuke is under the cut!

Yandere! Sasuke’s love interest in the search team

For as far as your memory served, all the way to your childhood when your journey as a ninja was merely beginning at the Konohagakure ninja academy, something about Sasuke had always put you off. Unlike many of the others, who were drawn to him for many reasons – his looks, his talents, his intelligence, and the fact that he was an Uchiha, you always kept your distance. Behind his ingenious and aloof energy that pulled others in, was a feeling of eeriness – a particular discomfort that prompted you to stay away from him as far as possible. During your student days, it was not too difficult for you to avoid him. However, once your were put on Team Seven with Naruto, Sakura and Sasuke himself, it was almost impossible to ever get away from him. 

And everything worsened because someone as talented as Sasuke, knew how to keep himself  from being suspected. He never revealed his true colours enough in front of everyone for them to put all the clues together. Sure, granted it was sort of evident that Sasuke had a soft spot for you, and showed you an ounce of kindness in the way he did not with others. However, it was when the two of you were alone that his true intentions were revealed. 

Inappropriate touches, whispers of petrifying promises, and his cunning threats – you hated all of it. Especially after he was given the curse mark by Orochimaru, and the inevitable darkness that haunted the Uchiha began to plague him, that’s when it was the worst. 

After his fight with Naruto on the hospital’s roof, where Sakura would have been severely hurt had it not been for Kakashi’s interference, Sasuke had dragged you away with him. You had become his punching bag he took his frustration out on to make himself feel powerful, to make him feel something. 

Using sparring to train as an excuse, you had ended up beneath him. He held a kunai to your throat which was a typical way to announce one’s victory over their opponents. However, with the way he was pushing his entire weight on you and stradling you, and the intense glare of his ruby red Sharingan, made you believe that he was really going to kill you. 

You felt the familiarity of his cold and venomous touch caressing the side of your body, and his lips were stretched into a cold wide grin. 

“You’d be perfect for the revival of my clan, after I kill Itachi…. Say, [Name], you’ll wait for me, won’t you? You’ll save yourself for our first time and not be with anyone else until I return won’t you?” Sasuke demanded rather than asking, and with each word he had spoken, the animosity in his voice had increased, until he was roughly gripping your face. 

Tears were brimming at the corner of your eyes, and you trembled. In that moment, having no means of escape, and defiance being the last thing on your mind, you had nodded and said the words you needed to get him off of you. They saved you in that moment, but promised your demise for the future. 

Afterwards, subsequently to Sasuke’s betrayal and departure from the Hidden Leaf, you felt out-casted. While your fellow comrades mourned over his treacherous actions, you were glad. You were happy that Sasuke had left because you were finally given your very much needed peace of mind. 

The two and a half years spent without Sasuke, had been some of your best. So, you could only refrain yourself from becoming overwhelmingly consumed by your own anxiety when you were forced to go on his rescue mission. 

You tried getting out of it, you really did. But going against someone as stubborn as Naruto or Sakura – and worse, both of them combined, was a battle of the will you were not capable of winning. 

For you, anything was better than seeing Sasuke again to the point where you had wished that one of the Akatsuki members had really killed you during Gaara’s rescue expedition. 

The moment those beautiful, but incredibly vicious dark eyes had become fixated on you, you knew in the pit of your stomach that this was going to be the beginning of the end for you. 

Team Kakashi returned to the village without Sasuke, and without you as well. 

Sasuke, with the help of Orochimaru and Kabuto, had managed to grab you, and disappear from the rest of your team with you. 

Of course, Sasuke had being away from you for such a long time. As a result, he was so desperate to be with you, that Orochimaru or Kabuto were not even given a second to demean you in anyway for your affiliation to the Leaf. Sasuke had taken you to his room immediately, and despite putting up a fight against him, you were no match for his power. 

Easily, Sasuke had tossed you on his bed, and the amount of emotions from seeing you was so intense that his Sharingan had activated subconsciously. 

“I hope you’ve kept your promise,” he started, and crawled on top of you. “Because I can’t. I know I said I’ll do this after I kill Itachi, but you’re simply too irresistible.” 

—

Please send in more prompts for Naruto 😩

[a-coulter-winchester]

Breaking my writer’s block: Eric in the fall.

Fall was your favorite time of the year. Who wouldn’t love the beauty of it.

All the colors of changing leaves how they float away on the cool autumn breeze with spots of sunlight almost making them translucent with light.

The temperature was always your favorite too, crisp and fresh air just filled your lungs the right way. Homes wafted delicious scents of apple spices, and pumpkin deserts. To add the icing on the cake there is one of the best holidays ever. Halloween.

It was probably odd for a Dauntless to go wandering off to enjoy the beauty of fall. Dancing with your head in the clouds. Perhaps you should have just chosen Amity but you stuck with Dauntless instead.

Only thing stopping you would be the seasonal grump. None other than Eric coulter himself. You left your apartment searching the dauntless compound hallways for anyone doing a mandatory walk through. It was lunchtime and most people should of been in the mess hall.

It was odd though there had been no signs of Eric all day. Usually the two of you at least crossed paths once or twice by now.

Four and Tris passed by and you tried to act casual but neither of them paid much attention they were having an intense conversation that only involved them.

It looked like a smooth get away would be easy to obtain today. You had been sneaking out for as long as you could remember but when Eric joined Dauntless that had changed it became quite the game of cat and mouse. There were even times you swore you could see amusement or a genuine smile of accomplishment when Eric would catch you red handed.

You jumped the train right after Amity but right before the train made it to wall. There was a little field through the woods that was often left alone by Amity. The occasional couple would walk through or young teenagers sneaking off to make out in secret.

The further up the hill you went the more golden and brown leaves covered the ground. You were silent but soft crunches still echoed. You managed to not snap any hidden branches or loose twigs hidding beneath the canopy of leafs.

A soft breeze brushed through your hair as you stepped through the tree line. It gave you a shiver while also making you feel more alive. A smile began to appear as you relaxed and stretched to take a step into the field.

Something caught your eye and you froze like a deer noticing potential danger.

Eric sat slumped in the clearing against a large tree in the middle of the meadow. He had a large black thick book in his hands. His legs were straight out in front of him his arms were sleeveless and seemed to ripple and shimmer when he flexed slightly to turn the page.

You bit your lip stifling back a giggle as you would expect Four to do something like this but not Eric.

It would be worth it to sit and watch him like he were a rare bird in its natural habitat.

You wondered what on earth he would be reading about. His face was emotionless. Except now he seemed more focused and relaxed then he ever had. After a few moments of spying on him your muscles itched to sneak up on him and pounce.

Better yet to find out what on earth he could be reading.

You made your way stealthily deeper into the woods. Circling around back so that you would emerge from the behind the large tree where Eric sat.

There would be a blind spot around him at a certain distance the closer you got. So you would have to be extra careful there.

You made it half before a twig under your foot started to give. Eric tensed for a moment and you haulted dead in your tracks. After what felt like an eternity he flipped the page and seemed to be engrossed in the book again.

Eric’s POV

Eric perked up, his ears caught what sounded like slight crunching. There was silence except for the rustling of the trees and loose foliage on the ground.

Eric went back to reading he planned to only read a little bit longer before hiding the book beneath the tree again and leave back to the compound.

“He slammed her against the wall and kissed her with a hunger that was insatiable! Hahaha Eric you’re reading a trashy smut novel!” Y/N roared with laughter. Her head poked out around the tree.

Eric was enraged that he had been caught and this was no laughing matter to him.

“No that’s not what it is.” He hissed grabbing Y/N and flipping her on her back.

Y/N POV

You looked up not even realizing Eric had thrown you onto the ground. You couldn’t stop laughing even as he pinned you down with his body. He straddled your thighs and pinned your wrists above your head.

“Stop laughing!” He snapped but you couldn’t if you wanted to. The image of big strong mean Eric reading a trashy novel was too good.

Eric’s face was red but it was hard to tell if it was from anger or embarrassment.

Your breathing was a little heavy as you tried to catch your breath, it didn’t help much that Eric was sitting on you.

His chest was rising and falling visibly. His arms flexed and tensed with the pressure he was using to hold you. Even though you weren’t struggling. You bit your lip seeing the intimate position the two of you were in.

“Are you gonna kiss me with an insatiable hunger?” Once more laughter erupted from your mouth.

Eric said nothing instead he leaned forward and stuck his tongue in your mouth. The at first it was awkward and it shut you up fast. Your lips pressed together and warmth spread throughout your bodies as you kissed. It slowly became more passionate. His hands left yours so he could slide it under your head gripping your hair and pulling you closer for a deeper kiss.

Despite the first part of the kiss Eric was an amazing kisser and you found yourself melting into his body. A slow long gasp left your lips making you feel as though he were kissing you so deep that your soul could feel it.

You wrapped your arms around his neck. You never really thought about Eric this way but it actually made a lot of sense.

Eric pulled back slowly and you whimpered at the loss of warmth and contact with his lips.

“Didn’t recognize the story?” Eric spoke his voice was softer. the sterness was replaced with a more lazy and lust filled tone.

“What?” Was all you could say as you tried to grasp his words.

Then it hit you like a tidal wave, that tree was your favorite tree to read at and the smut novel was yours. You always hid it under the opening of the tree.

Eric smirked at you as he stood and brushed off the leaves and dirt from his knees and hands.

“Next time I find you out here, I’m not going to stop.” He stalked off towards the train and left you there a mess.

One kiss left your mind frazzled, your clothes twisted and dirty matching your wild and madded hair that was now full of leaves.

You couldn’t help but wonder what state would you be left in if he made good on his threat.

All you did know for sure was that you would be coming back tomorrow and that this would be the best spooky season of your life.

[aethelflaedladyofmercia]

The Whole Truth - 2

(Full story available on AO3! If you want to be tagged as new chapters are posted, leave a comment “tag me” on this post!)

(Please note: Tumblr continues to make my Italics disappear. It’s very frustrating, so I apologize if the formatting makes anything confusing.)

Monday

1999

--

Aziraphale stared at the book on his desk. “What kind of curse?”

“Don’t know, not my department.” Gabriel smiled, excited, just a little distracted. It tugged at something in Aziraphale, made him want to prove he was worth the Archangel’s attention, too. “Michael’s soldiers seized it in a raid. Very dramatic stuff. Pity you weren’t able to make it.”

“Ah, yes, well…”

“Could have used another sword.” A nudge of the elbow, so hard Aziraphale staggered a little. “Those demons fought back hard.”

“Yes, terribly sorry. As I’d said there was this urgent business to attend to. Demonic possession. Entire family cursed. The house itself had become sentient. And. Carnivorous. I really had to deal with it all immediately.”

“Sounds frightening.”

“Oh, it was. Very frightening. And gory. And certainly not rated for general audiences.”

“What?”

“Nothing!” Aziraphale tugged on his waistcoat. The last thing he needed was for Gabriel to learn about movie night. Well. It was mid-ranked on the very long list of things Gabriel shouldn’t know. He hated lying to the Archangel, but no – things were better this way. “Regardless. You say these – these demons had this book in their possession?”

“Oh, yes. Not sure what they were planning to do with it, but it’s cursed. Very cursed.”

“Fascinating.” Aziraphale picked up a pen and used it to lift the cover, peering at the first page. He could just make out the writing. “It’s printed, not handwritten. Not Roman or Cyrillic alphabet.” He let the cover fall and started searching for a pair of gloves. “In fact, I don’t recognize the script at all. I’ll need a larger sample—”

Gabriel clapped his hands. “Good! Excellent, that’s just what I like to hear. Your obsession with material objects and human record keeping finally has a use. So glad we have an expert to consult on this.” Aziraphale hid a little smile at that. Expert. “See what you can find out by the end of the week.”

“End of the – you can’t be serious.” Aziraphale pulled his glasses off, waving them as politely as he could. “I mean, I’m sure you have your reasons, O holy Archangel, but deciphering an unknown text takes time. Not to mention identifying a curse—”

“We already have a team on that,” Gabriel interrupted, before Aziraphale could confess to knowing very little about demonic curses, apart from the sort Crowley shouted at other drivers.

“Oh. Jolly good.”

“Yes, they’ve told me the curse is so potent, any angel attempting to remove it would be immediately destroyed. Incinerated was the term they used.”

“Ah.” Aziraphale took a step away from the desk. “Well, I suppose that does change things.”

Gabriel shrugged. “As long as you don’t try to remove the curse yourself, you’re fine. Anyway, by Friday night, they’ll have worked out a proper disposal method. I proposed launching the book into the sun but apparently that would cause a, what did they call it, Superb Nova.”

“Oh dear.” Another step away. “You know, Gabriel, as…happy as I am that you wish to entrust this task to me, er, we are currently located in a major population center, and I don’t think—”

“Aziraphale,” Gabriel gave him that warm look, the one he saw so rarely, the one that made him feel included. “This raid was a big deal. I don’t want to start any rumors, but…it’s possible the demons were planning something. I would consider it a huge favor if you could just, I don’t know, poke around a bit? Find out what they wanted?”

“Well…as…as a favor…” There was a shiver of happiness running up his spine at that. Gabriel never asked for favors. “Yes, I think I can…learn a few things that might help you out. As long as it’s safe?”

“It’s fine!” Gabriel picked up the book and waved it around. “Perfectly harmless to angels; obviously, don’t let any humans near it. They might set something off. Probably blow up half the city!” He laughed, tossing the book. It hit the table with a crack, falling open to a random page.

“Oh, dear.” That hardly sounded safe. “What…if a demon tried? Er, someone come looking for his lost property, perhaps?”

“It would be very bad. No one touches this but you. Understand?”

Aziraphale nodded, feeling rather ill. He should say no, there were too many things that could go wrong.

His eyes drifted to the open book, the strange writing, a drawing of some horrifying creature. One word was a little larger than the rest and for a second, it looked familiar. He bent closer, almost instinctively. “This text…I almost think I’ve seen it before. No, it’s gone now, but perhaps…” He looked up in time to catch an eager gleam in Gabriel’s eyes. “Yes, I think…I can take a look. As…as a favor.”

“Excellent! That’s exactly the attitude I like to see. Now if you’ll excuse me, lots to do, places to be. I’ll follow up with you on Friday. Say, four o’clock?”

In a twinkling of light and a pop of air pressure, Aziraphale was alone with the book.

--

“He just – just left you with a cursed book?” Crowley paid the ice cream vendor and handed Aziraphale his cone.

“Yes. Is that so strange? I am an expert on Earth tomes, and languages, and treatises on magic.” He puffed his chest a little. “Why shouldn’t Heaven give me such a fascinating project?”

“Because they don’t care about any of that,” Crowley snapped flatly. “Besides, languages? I’ve heard you speak French.”

“I was having a bit of an off day,” Aziraphale pouted. “I shouldn’t be judged based on a single incident – what was it, two hundred and six years ago now? For all you know, I’ve been brushing up on my French ever since.” He licked the ice cream, smiling at the thick, creamy texture of it.

“Have you though?” Crowley sauntered alongside him, hands in his pockets, red hair slicked and gelled tight against his head.

“Well, no, but only because I’ve already read everything of interest in French.”

“Is that so?” Crowley smirked as if he was so clever. “Does this mean you finally got around to reading Proust?”

“Well. No. But neither have you.” Aziraphale took a quick bite of his ice cream before it could melt down his hand.

“Yeah, but I don’t live in a bookshop,” Crowley took a few steps ahead and started walking backwards, smirk evolving into a rather large grin. “So that makes me wonder who else you haven’t read. Dickens? Twain? Dostoyevsky? Is the Principality Aziraphale, in fact, a giant sham?”

The angel pursed his lips. “Any luck getting your car to play other music?”

Crowley’s face fell. “No,” he muttered, circling back to walk beside Aziraphale again. “At this point I’m really starting to get sick of Queen. Hope it doesn’t go on too much longer.”

--

Aziraphale stood before his desk, book lying innocuously on the blotter. He wore the thickest gloves he could find and – just to be safe – had rolled his sleeves up past the elbow. He still approached it with extreme caution.

One finger carefully tapped the spine, pulling away instantly.

No sparks. No chills. No cloud of demonic energy.

Just a perfectly ordinary book, really.

With feather-light touch, he brushed his fingers down the cover. Leather-bound, deep red-brown. Hopefully normal leather, but you never knew with demonic books, or for that matter certain obscure human texts. Sturdy and thick, the binding worn through in a few places just enough to indicate irregular use. No title, but gold pressed into the leather formed some sort of broad-leafed plant. Nothing he recognized.

Lifting the cover, he inspected the pages inside. Thick, rough paper – the edges a bit uneven and ragged in places. When he leaned close to inspect them, he detected the distinct dusty scent of old book, with just a hint of spice.

It seemed that Gabriel was correct. Nothing suggested the book was dangerous to touch.

Aziraphale set his armchair beside the desk and settled in for some proper investigation.

The first step of his process: Aziraphale turned to a page at random. He liked to think providence was guiding him to the first clues.

It looked much as that page he’d glimpsed during Gabriel’s visit, yet also entirely different. Small, curving letters – a bit like calligraphy, half unical, he thought, perhaps English or Irish – arrayed around complex illustrations of green plants on one side, and something that might have been an insect on the other. The artwork was immensely detailed, with subtle color variations, but resembled nothing he had ever seen.

The text was also strange, the longer he looked at it. He skimmed the page looking for patterns, groups of letters that appeared together more than once. Nothing. There were distinct words, all between four and seven characters, but each was unique. And the characters each looked sharp and clear and perfectly uniform in size, but there was variation, each uniquely formed, as if handwritten.

He turned the pages, sheet after sheet, looking for anything he recognized, leaning closer as he read. Sometimes a word would look almost familiar and then – no, it was gone.--

--

(The horror movie Aziraphale mentions is supposed to be “The Haunting” but I got it a bit confused with other movies from the late 90s. The mysterious writing and diagrams are loosely based on several mysterious texts, most notably the Voynich Manuscript.)