#Ebony break || ooc

[ebonyforged]

who’s out here tryna have our muses do crime together 🥺 🥺 🥺

[gayandfairycore]

Thin walls

A/n this is the first smut I’ve written in awhile so I’m a little bit rusty. but there’s a serious lack of Lockwood and co smut here and I wanted-no needed to remedy that, lockwoods far too pretty for this lack of smut!

Summary: the walls of 35 Portland row are thin, Very thin.

Warnings: ALL CHARACTERS ARE AGED UP, p in v smut, unprotected sex wrap it b4 you tap it, switch Lockwood, switch reader, oral male and female receiving, slight cock warming, Lockwood might be a bit ooc. Also this is not proof read so there may be some mistakes! Also grammatical errors.

Word count: 2,613 words

The warm smell of books and tea fill the late night air of the house, a hard cover book in your lap, as you snuggle up in your leather chair the crinkle of the material moving loudly as you move.

You don’t even realise the boy standing in the doorway, a look of soft adoration painting his face. His oversized blazer tucked around you in a protective hold. As you inhale his scent, “hello, my love” Lockwood whispers placing a tentative kiss on the side of your jaw, his arms reaching around to hold you from behind. A large smile breaking your face as you whirl your head up to place a soft kiss on his lips from your chair. Your lips moulding together perfectly despite it being an upside down kiss. Lockwoods teeth pulling gently on your bottom lip his large hands coming up to caress your jaw, his touch gentle and barely there as if he was afraid he’d break you, the suit wearing boy slips his tongue into your mouth in attempt to deepen the kiss your tongue’s fighting for dominance, until his reigns superior. His lips pulling into his signature cocky smirk.

His hands moving down your body, his nails bragging gently over your throat, a low hum repels from your chest muffled by his lips, his hands continue to move lower and lower, running along your clothed chest. He pulls back, concern drawn on his face as he asks “is this okay?” A love filled expression bewitches you it didn’t matter how many times you’ve had sex with eachother he’d always ask the same thing. Pulling the boy closer by his tie you whisper a sultry “of course, dear.” Before attaching your lips to his again, he feels his face heating up at your tone your fingers messily undoing his tie before pulling your lips back looking up at the boy through your eyelashes “I think we should move this somewhere more…private?”

“Oh absolutely, couldn’t agree more.” Anthony smirks his hand in yours as you both vacate the library your steaming cup of tea lying now thouroughly untouched on the side table, and book discarded haphazardly on the floor. Climbing each step seemingly lasts an excruciating long time being led behind the dashing ebony haired boy, you move his hand to your lips placing tentative kisses on his fingers, as he looks back at you with a lusting gaze turning around he tells you to put your legs around his waist, doing so, he then reattaches his lips to yours as you both stumble into walls, and discarded books laughs breaking when Lockwood trips over his own feet bashful smile on his face “sorry!” He chuckles

“Don’t be.” You say placing a kiss on his jaw, moving farther down to his neck you begin to nip, and suck on his skin whimpers and breathy moans leave him at the contact pushing the door to his room open he latched his lips to yours before shutting the door with his feet lying you on his bed softly he moves up your body from below, moving your T-shirt up to expose your uncovered chest. The cool air of his bedroom hardening your nipples, lockwoods dress pants growing exponentially tighter at the sight of you. His jacket you had previously adorned discarded somewhere in the house along with his tie. His hands made fast movements on his shirt buttons fumbling over a few only to slow down when your soft hands begun to palm him through his trousers. His head falling back as breathy moans left his lips “n-now y/n I thought I was meant to pleasure-pleasure you-“

“Don’t be.” You say placing a kiss on his jaw, moving farther down to his neck you begin to nip, and suck on his skin whimpers and breathy moans leave him at the contact pushing the door to his room open he latched his lips to yours before shutting the door with his feet lying you on his bed softly he moves up your body from below, moving your T-shirt up to expose your uncovered chest. The cool air of his bedroom hardening your nipples, lockwoods dress pants growing exponentially tighter at the sight of you. His jacket you had previously adorned discarded somewhere in the house along with his tie. His hands made fast movements on his shirt buttons fumbling over a few only to slow down when your soft hands begun to palm him through his trousers. His head falling back as breathy moans left his lips “n-now y/n I thought I was meant to pleasure-pleasure you-“

“Hmm it goes both ways, locky~” you whisper in his ear, hand still palming him through his trousers nipping and pulling at his ear lobe, a sharp intake of breath leaves the boy as his cocky smile comes back to his face. Shedding his dress shirt and pants with little struggle his boxers doing little to hide his length. Running your hands over his chest you place a kiss over his heart, sucking and biting, and working your magic it’s no surprise when you let up the large purple and red bruise that’s in the shape of a heart over his heart.

Sinking to your knees at the end of his bed you place a kiss just above the band of his underwear pulling and snapping the elastic a whine leaves Lockwood “don’t tease darling~”

“How can I not when you look so pretty, needy?” You smile dragging down his boxers and freeing his length, he’s a little over average, and skinny. The head of his cock leaking precum, it’s large purple head had you salivating right then and there. spreading around his precum with your fingers, moving your hand up and down his length excruciatingly slow pace watching as a steady string of moans leave his mouth as you latch your lips onto his cock, bobbing your head up and down stroking the rest of his length that couldn’t fit in your mouth. Lockwood thrusting his hips effectively face fucking you, his hands gripping your head as he moves the tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat making you gag a little, tears stinging your eyes as his pace increases moans escaping you as Lockwood tugs your hair the vibrations sending a wave of pleasure over the boy.

“Fuck y/n!” He exclaims “I’m close!” Swirling your mouth over the head of his cock the salty taste of his precum in your tongue is enough to make you salivate drool and saliva soaking his cock. Lockwoods thrusts becoming sloppier as the boy finally let’s go, his hot cum shooting down your throat and dripping down your chin as he pulls his still hardened cock out of your mouth. Leaning down to place a kiss on your lips he can taste himself on you.

“Mmm” leaves him before he can stop himself, lifting you up off of the floor your knees surely bruising from the hard wood floor Anthony’s large hands grip your ribs as his thumb comes to run over your hardened nipples caressing and neading the soft flesh of your breast “oh god! Lockwood!” You cry as his lips attach to your nipple, sucking with as much lewd sounds as he can produce, his other hand caressing your breast, pinching and rolling your nipple between his fore finger and thumb.

Inhaling sharply as his fingers continue to pinch your nipples, the pain morphing into pleasure, the sound of lockwoods mouth detaching from your nipple with a loud POP! Fills the silence of the bedroom, your legs rubbing together in a feeble attempt to gain some friction.

“This feels a bit unfair DONT you think? I mean I’m fully nude and you’re still fully clothed. Why don’t you go ahead and remove them for me sweetheart?” Lockwood commands, softly, your mind scrambled at the boys mere presence.

“O-okay!” Your hands tug up on your tshirt flinging it to the floor in a hurry, you wiggle out of your pj shorts and underwear, Lockwood watched from above you, as you strip yourself of your clothes, showing him your everything. His gaze is intense but loving. “You are a goddess.” He says moving your limbs away from your chest and vagina. “Don’t hide from me, dear. Not now not ever.” Anthony commands his eyes glancing at yours with seriousness.

“I love you” you whisper “not as much as I love you.” He replies, placing a kiss on your lips, your chest, your stomach. Your naval, and finally the beginning of your vagina, Lockwood can see your wetness begin to leak onto your thighs when you rubbed them together, swallowing hard the boy dips down, his large hands gripping the flesh of your thighs and moving them farther apart, he unconsciously plays with the flesh of your thigh, kneading and rolling the flesh he grips it with enough force to produce a moan and light bruises, as he looks up at your face, looking at him with shyness your previous confidence seemingly dissipated. He holds eye contact with you as he licks a long stride up your vagina, your wetness gathering along his tongue as he swirls it around, his finger coming up to rub figure 8s on your clit “oh god lock-Lockwood! That feels so-so good!” You call your head thrown back in ecstasy.

It encourages Anthony to push a little more pressure on the tender bud, your legs attempting to squeeze shut, clasping against his head, suffocating him in your thighs. Lockwood let’s out a pleasureful hum that reverberates through you the vibrations enough to bring that familiar feeling back into your lower tummy, the sensation coiling tightly desperate for release as your hands burry themselves in Lockwoods curly hair tugging tightly as he chuckles, your slick dripping down his chin as he inserts one of his fingers as it rams into you with speed, hitting your g-spot, loud lewd moans leave your lips as Lockwood heightens his pace, the coiling within your stomach is about to snap!

when nothing. Lockwoods fingers have relented their momentum, his tongue no longer swirling and curling within you at just the right pace. “Ugh lock wood! What the hell!” You whine reaching behind you throwing one of his pillows at him satisfied when it hits him in the face, and oof! Sound muffled by the fluffy pillow.

“I’m sorry darling but I had to get you back for all your teasing.”

“You really suck you know that?” You say crossing your arms over your chest

“We’ll perhaps I need to make it up to you.” He retorts inserting his fingers back into you

“Lockwood!” You cry as he slams into your gspot with his fingers, curling them, and rubbing your clit at the same time it’s only a matter of moments before the cool begins to grow and snap when Lockwood curls his fingers knocking your special spot and the added pressure on your clit makes you let go loud and breathy moans leave you your back arching eyes rolling to the back of your head.

Your juices squirting, and yet Lockwood doesn’t halt his movements infact he speeds up. Your second orgasm building, and releasing within moments when the boy attaches his lips to your clitoris.

When you orgasm for the second time he’s ready, lapping at your vagina, the loud sounds of sex and the squelching of your juices fills the room, disorientation and overstimulation mixes together well as

Lockwood lines himself up with your entrance, sinking himself into you, groans escape the boy as he revels in the feeling of having himself cockdeep inside you, waiting for you to adjust to his size his concerned features look down at you silently asking you if it’s alright for him to move now.

Panting and nodding, Lockwood began to bottom out before slamming back into you “oh god! Lockwood!” Soft moans and whines leaving the boy in front of you.

“I love you y/n” lockwood whispers placing a kiss on your lips, and moving his hands down to rub your clit, the sensitive bud pulsating from his previous care to it when his hands lightly brush over the bud it brings a sharp whine from your lips as his thrusts picking up pace as his lips attaching to your breast as moans reverberate from him, his cock sinking deeper into you, hitting your g-spot “oh Lockwood! Right mm right there!”

“God y/n you feel so good!” He groane, as your fingernails claw at the boys back. In pleasure. Moans escape his lips at the burn from the cool bedroom stings the cuts.

The familiar feeling begins to build in Lockwood at the sight of you below him, writhing in pleasure, a moaning mess beneath him. You were all his, and he was all yours.

“Darling I’m gonna- gonna c-um!” Lockwood calls out in warning, sharp hiss leaving him half way though as your hands take through his hair “ngh! Don’t stop! Don’t you dare stop!” You whimper the sound of the headboard against the walls and the sounds of lockwoods cock slamming into you the smell of sex intoxicates the room as Lockwood comes undone, you coming shortly after at the whimpering whine that breaks from deep in lockwoods chest. His hot cum shooting inside of you mixing with your own. He leaves his cock in you for a a moment more not yet ready to relieve himself of the warmth and comfort of being inside you.

A proud boyish grin paints his face as he watches both of your cum mixing together and spilling out of you.

His lanky body collapsing beside you as you both panted desperate for breath rolling into his side your head on his chest you placed a chaste kiss over his heart the hickeys from earlier a stark contrast against his pale chest; as he stretches his arm of the side of his bed he grabs a clean tshirt wiping you clean and pulling you into him.

Pulling up his teal duvet he rests his head atop yours as sleep finally overcomes the pair of you, the clock striking 3 am.

The kitchen the next morning is quiet, the only sounds are from the pop! of the toaster, and the boiling of the jug. the group sitting around the table in silence lockwoods proud smirk obstructed by his newspaper as your legs shake under the table, taking a sip at your tea, in awkward silence. Lucy’s shit eating grin plain on her face as her chest moves with her full body laugh “so you guys finally did it huh?”

“Wait what- you- you guys heard?!?” You cry out mortified “also finally?” Lockwood adds

“Uh huh” Lucy nods “everything.” She reiterates pointing an accusatory piece of half eaten toast toward you both, cheek splitting smile on her face as she shakes her head.

“And plus George and I had a bet, who’d initiate it first, he said y/n, and I said Lockwood.” The girl exclaimed holding a hand out for George to put a 20 in her hand.

“We have thin walls you know.” George speaks up, looking disappointed in himself as he hands over a 20.

a shadowy look overtaking his face as he was seemingly reliving the sounds from last night, his room right next to Lockwood, the sound of the squeaky bed bashing against the wall and the loud moans and other lewd sounds traumatising the researcher.

Embarrassment colours your cheeks as Lockwood laughs at the boy placing a hand on your shoulder, as he places his newspaper on the table moving to butter some toast

“Very thin walls in fact as I recall you guys sounded quite like this” Lucy calls chomping on a piece of toast and faking boarder-line pornographic moans “oh Lockwood! Please! Please!” And “oh y/n! Feels so good! God so good!” She continues to impersonate smirking into her tea at the embarrassment that now covers lockwoods cheeks.

“Who would’ve thought George your best friends a switch.” The brunette girl chuckles at the disgust on George’s face

“Oh god gross!” He exclaims covering his ears and pushing up his glasses

“I might have a look in that paper for a new job- one where the members don’t almost have sex in the library!”

“But Georgey we didn’t!” Lockwood exclaims “plus, you’d miss us too much to leave.”

The dark haired boy relents sinking down in his chair “I guess”

Sharing an amused glance with Lockwood he places a kiss on your lips as he walks past taking the newspaper from George’s hands.

Taglist: @simrah1012

[too-destiny-panda]

Wyllvember Day 1: The Blade/ Favourite outfit

A/N: I have not posted my writing on here for literal years, and I overall don't write much anymore (mainly because of fear of writing OOC and my many inconsistencies), but I figured I might try my hand at this. Forgive me for the ugly formatting, I'm writing this on mobile and overall have no clue how to make it look pretty😅. Anyways, let's get this Wyll Ravengard appreciation started! The prompts are from @commander-yinello and @sagscrib -Blue WC:603

The Blade of Frontiers, the protector of the Sword Coast, and its people. The name is known to many. Some whisper it in reverence, shout it in adoration, or mutter it through gritted teeth in loathing. The name carries a weight, a meaning, a notion that one is either going to be saved and protected or crushed under the heel of justice. It inspired an image in one’s mind, whether they have ever seen the Blade in person or not. A picture of justice and righteousness, of gaudiness and pompous heroics. Some imaginings are closer, some further, from the truth. Be that as it may, all of them are right, at least to some extent.

The Blade is a hero, who accompanies his actions with flowery words, creative insults, and some slightly more puzzling phrases. He is a man of many qualities, and though not all are fond of his tendency for theatrics, they must admit he is good. Whether it be his combat prowess or as a person, he is good. Which some may believe to be a weakness, a soft spot to be exploited and bruised. Those people are proven wrong very quickly.

Despite his kindness, his willingness to help those that need it, he is righteous. And there are few things more destructive than righteous fury, accompanied by powers few possess. His white, stone eye blazing as he cracks mountains, calls onto fiendish abilities to burn his enemies from inside out, blast their torsos to smithereens with a few Eldritch Blasts, or poison a small army of soulless wrongdoers with deadly clouds. For no matter how soft his heart is, how embellished and poetic his words are, his fists turn into adamantine when faced with his foes, his tongue turns into a blade sharp enough to put all blacksmiths to shame as incantation after incantation reverberates through the air until not a single enemy is left standing.

And when he returns from battle, when he swoops in to save the poor victims of the monsters he has slain, some remark how the outfit he dons is splattered with blood and soot and ash and unidentifiable organic matter. A view many would find disquieting, terrifying. But the people will only remember his kind gaze, his ebony hair and warm skin as he extends his hand to them, remember the way light reflects off the belts and buckles of his armour, how the hue of the leather contrasts with the unblemished metal.

And later on, when a feast is thrown, when the tavern is filled to bursting with folks celebrating the return of their loved ones and the defeat of the dangers that plagued them, many an eye will watch with keen interest the man responsible for such joy, watch as he laughs, how the fabric of his Splendid Blue outfit tightens around his arms whenever he raises them to toast. Others, in a different region will recall how the simplicity of his Swarthy Wayfarer shirt made them dream of his collarbones like depraved maidens. Some more noble sorts will remark that a particular shade of a Solemnity outfit made him look delectable. If everyone that has ever seen the Blade in a different outfit other than his armour were to meet and a debate on what suits him best would occur, this author is afraid that a brawl might break out on account of the Blade's handsome looks and what best accentuates them.

And as much as this humble writer disagrees with violence over romantic matters, one must admit that such behaviour is not so surprising when faced with someone such as the Blade of Frontiers.

[badassxbirdy]

Edit: Some people are having trouble with the mobile nav link in the blog description. Click here if it isn’t working for you.

October Activity Update - Pinned Post

Happy spooky season! It’s time once again for an activity update! If you’re new here: these monthly posts help me to keep track of what the frick I’ve been doing, particularly when tumblr breaks or the brainfog strikes. This update includes things posted or in drafts for August and September, as I missed last months post. Everything else can be found in previous monthly updates under this tag. There’s also the thread tracker here.

The full activity update (along with OOC house keeping) is below the cut. Bold text = links.

If you want to see all IC interactions without the other stuff, click here. If you’d like to start something new, there are opens and memes, or you can just hit up the DM’s. You can also add Ty on Wire for IC texting.

Now onto the update!

OOC housekeeping:

I can no longer trim posts that were started in the legacy editor. I’ll be messaging folks about moving threads to a new post as and when those replies come up.

Text size! While I personally prefer small text as I find it easier to read on mobile, I know many folks prefer the opposite. So rather than relying on my memory to keep track of who to use bigger text for, I’m just going to match whatever text size my RP partner uses going forward.

RPThreadTracker does a fantastic job of tracking replies even when you don’t get a notification on tumblr itself. If you’re having issues with the current notifications glitch, I really recommend giving it a try.

There’s been a weird situation happening anons where they’ll send a really dodgy message, and tag another blog to try and incriminate them as the sender. Here’s a PSA post explaining.

Threads, replies and other IC interactions:

@astormymind

Library ghost (drafted) (Finn)

Memes from Prue and Alex are in the drafts!

@beastbitten

“I ain’t lookin’ for trouble.” (link)

@demcnsinmymind

Car trouble (drafted)

Taking Lance on a hunt (drafted)

At the motel (link)

Azzy proves a point (drafted)

Mischief at the bar (link)

@demonstigma

Kage is weird, but Ty appreciates accidental compliments. 😂 (drafted)

@derschwarzeengel

Ty tracks down Vampire!Damon. (link)

“Ken means…” (drafted)

Fence related incidents (link)

Roasting 50 shades (link)

Damon shields Ty, Ty calls him a gothy tree-hugger. 🤷‍♀️ (link) - moved from the legacy editor.

Damon encounters Dark!Ty (link) - moved from the legacy editor.

Ty gets sick and is a brat about it. (link)

“She’s a ghost AND a bitch!” (link)

Werewolf problems (link) - moved from the legacy editor.

@destroyerscved

Magic bean juice (drafted) - Edward

“How did you find me?” (drafted) - Nia

“If you actually wanted to kill me, I'd be dead, wouldn't I?" (link) - Adrian

“Drink your school, stay in drugs” (drafted) - Samantha

@discipulusmaleficus

“ This isn’t what it looks like.” (link)

Abandoned house (drafted)

@ebonyforged

Ty meets Ebony! 😁 (link)

@first-born-to-his-name

“What is your day job?” (link)

@hvbris

Ty meets Hook (link)

An appointment with Doctor Soliman (drafted)

A questionable attempt to cheer up Olive. 😂 (drafted)

@imprvdente

Ty and FBI!fish at the motel (link)

Birthday mischief (drafted)

@indyflanery

At the fair (drafted)

@jchnwinchester

“You know me?” (link)

@kingofthewebxxx

Ghost warnings? That’s new. (link)

@loyaltyguided

Cuteness with Azzy! ❤️ (drafted)

@lcbcshcart

Monster encounter (drafted)

@luposcainus

Ty is shocked to find Caspian isn’t dead. 😂 (link)

@magaprima

Demon problems part (drafted)

Demon problems part 2: electric boogaloo (drafted)

@nightiingaled

“You should have killed me when you had the chance.” (link) - Than

“I need a stronger word than fuck” (link) - Mel

Time for “The Talk” (link) - Mel

@normallyxstranger

Starter for Victor (drafted) - Welcome back! ❤️

@ourwar

Babysitting Jude and the Doctor (link)

“You’re welcome.” (link) - Homelander

@pantslessoptimism

“I totally didn’t do what you think I did.” (link)

Cannibal ghosts (link)

@stanfordprepped

“What in the reese's peanut butter fuck is going on here?” (link)

@tobeblamed

Dean is better than google. 😇 (link)

Memes/asks: 8

Drafts: 21, and I have no idea how I got so far behind jfc. ☠️

Headcanon, Dash games, and assorted silliness:

Bingo cards with Lance, Azrael, Fish, Isaac, and Michael! (link)

Mel and Killian come to blows while Tyler is missing. (link)

Messing with Killian. (link)

The bot brigade are annoying, but they have some truly banging names! Here are some of my favourites.

I think that’s everything! As always: please let me know if I’ve missed something. I never intentionally drop threads without notifying, rest assured that if it’s not here I am either having a brain fart or I simply have not seen it. Remember to be kind to yourselves, and stay safe! ❤️ — Em

[abracafockyou]

Thinks about him <3

[magichcuse]

Also...part of me wonders how different Odelia's feelings towards Johnny would be if she saw things from Ebony's perspective first—all of the hours spent trying to figure out how to please him, all of the public rejections and cruel words, and (possibly) even the pressure her parents put on her to win him over.

[fiery-knowledge]

Probably going on hiatus.

// I just got a new job, and my training will be over a solid 6 weeks full time, so I’m probably not going to be writing over here any time soon, which I apologise for. I love Iggy so much, but with everything else going on, I’ve been more focused on other muses. <3 I’m not going away, but I am going on a hiatus for now until I have the drive for Iggy, and I just feel like a lousy RP partner when I don’t officially say I’m on a hiatus.

If you wanna catch me, you can find me on my main @kaaras-adaar and @goldcnhand 

[brwnicons]

Maybe some Asa,Jesse and Bo( if you write for him) maybe being soft around their so? Like some sleepy boys needing cuddles or something like that

☆ Soft boys one-shots!!! Soft boys one-shots!!! I had so much fun writing this, I really hope you like it <3 ☆

Soft One-Shots

-> Includes: Jesse and Asa (separately)

-> Summary: I know they're ooc but I couldn't give less, One Shot, Reader's gender is not specified, FLUFF, long post.

-> Warnings / Triggers:

[Jesse] None

[Asa] Blood, alcohol (antiseptic), wounds, mentions of killing

Please tell me if you find any mistake

Jesse

• Once you've win his love, this man is a gigantic teddy bear. Do I look like I care he kills??, He gives the best hugs and you can't change my mind.

Jesse often needs reassurance and support because of his face issues. As he once explained you, it's "something you never get used to it".

So, in these grey days were he tends to spend all of his time inside his office, without even letting you enter with the excuse that "He is very occupied"; what he needs the most is your speciality, a self-care-and-love-your-man-day!

You approached his office with stealth steps and peeked through the half-closed door. You could see Jesse handling some paperwork and signing some others with slow movements and while leaving ocasional sighs.

His face was covered with his infamous chrome mask all while he was working and it weren't be that suspicious, if it wasn't because of the fact that he never wears that mask around you and that you know that he likes to avoid problems by focusing on work. Too much coincidence to have both at the same time.

Suddenly, your hear a metal sound that brings you back to reality and as you lift your eyes, you see that he has dropped his pen and that now is you being watched. 'What do you want. It's the third time already' he signs while the shiny mask makes "eye" contact with you.

You inhale deeply and enter the room, decided to confront him.

"I know you're feeling down and I just want to help, please"

'I'm perfectly fine. Now, go back to whatever you were doing before deciding to spy me'

You hesitated but approached his desk with your fists clenched. "What is wrong with you, Jesse?! You can't just keep pushing me away because I'm definetly not leaving!" You shouted as your fists met the table in a dry slam. "I love you and I care about you, now tell me what's wrong or I'll be the worst pain in the ass for you, big man" you tried to threat by lowering your tone, but to his sight you still were as adorable and small as always.

He sighed in defeat and moved away his paperwork in case you wanted to sit on his ebony desk.

Instead, you surrounded the table and got next to him. You lifted your hand to caress his exposed skin and whispered, "What's wrong?"

He reached to his mask and, after another sigh, he took it off. You were happy to see his face again but it soon turned to concern as you saw his sad expression.

'Don't lie to me, Y/N, how can you love someone like this?'  He signed without breaking eye contact.

You brought both hands to his scarred cheeks and caressed his face with a sad smile. Then, you led him to a soft kiss and hugged him tightly.

"If by this you mean romantic, charismatic, intelligent, hardworking, sweet and definetly a perfect lover, I swear it's kind of hard to resist" you laughed softly while leaving little pecks around his face.

He scoffed like a kid who just was told by his mother that he's the prettiest boy in the world. However, he hugged you tightly and let his head rest on your chest, allowing himself ti just enjoy the moment with his favourite person.

Asa

• Much to your dismay, waking up next to Asa is something that doesn't happen everyday and, when it does, there is something is wrong.

The warm rays of sun caressed your cheeks and caused your dreams to disperse like smoke being blown away. You clenched your eyes and grunted softly at the light hitting you as you turned to your side in an effort of hiding away of it.

But you soon opened your eyes suddenly when you didn't felt the other side of the bed cold and as your hand accidentally met with an unexpected body. You quickly got up and stood on the bed, sat on your knees. Your hand reached for the man sleeping next to you and you touched his shoulder hesitantly.

"Asa? Are you alright?" You asked softly as you approached your face to his to examine it. You knew that he was awake since he had left some sighs and grunts when you touched him.

"Yes, Bug, go back to sleep" He answered curtly with a deep, morning voice. He turned his head and his eyes now looked hardly at you as a bothered frown told you that he didn't want to be disturbed.

You muttered a low apology and looked down worried, but on the way to your lap your eyes caught it: the white sheets around his legs had stains tinted in crimson red.

Your eyes got wider and you were quick to grab the sheets and draw them aside as your worry growed higher.

Your sight met with Asa's bare legs, which were covered in multiple bandages and gauzes.

"One of my pets tried to fight back", he read your anxious eyes and was fast to start just before you could yell at him for his irresponsibility, "Tonight was a very long night and it was late when I arrived. I didn't want to disturb you with my dumb issues".

You couldn't believe it. He trusted enough to tell you about his work but not when he was injured?!

You breathed deeply as you closed your eyes to try to calm yourself down. Once you had your mind clearer, you moved your head closer to the dirty and soaked bandages and examine them. "Don't you fucking dare to move, Asa" You stated firmly and just with a quick glare to your eyes, Asa could check that it wouldn't be clever to disobey you.

"I'm going to get some clean bandages, I'll be right back" And with that and a fierce glare that pierced the Collector himself, you jumped off the bed and headed to the bathroom. He knew he couldn't argue with you and win, so he gave up and with a sigh, he laid looking at the wooden ceiling above him.

After a while you came back carrying a stack of clean towels, alcohol and a bunch of cotton and bandages.

Asa looked at you and arched an eyebrow, "Do you even know what to do, Bug?", he asked reluctantly. You never attended his wounds since he was strong enough to face his most aggressive pets and his wounds are usually minimum (though you confront him anyways), so he always tends to return home clean and nice.

You ignored his words and began to work, it wasn't very clever to mess with the one who handled the alcohol bottle so you could have your revenge later.

You started with the nastier bandages, carefully retiring them before cleaning the wound below with little touches of alcohol soaked cotton. It was painful, but Asa have a high pain tolerance so he could allow himself to watch you work and toss a couple of grunts.

His eyes were fixed on you and your agile hands. Your focused expression was indeed one of his favorites and the way you treated him with so much love and care made him completely forget the pain.

Of course, you seemed like you were no professional and he could have limped to the bathroom and cleaned himself alone but he was to tired to argue now and seeing your tongue lightly sticking out as you focused on your work it was totally worth the experience.

He chuckled at his own thoughts and you stopped your work to look at him, "Are you laughing at me?", you asked bothered though partly embarrased too.

"Of course not, but you look too cute when focused".

You clenched the soaked cotton in your hand and frowned more to hide the heat that creeped to your face and probably already revealed your embarrassment.

You lowered your face and continued working, now a bit less careful, as you mumbled nonstop. Asa could only understand a couple of things like "I'm still mad at you for being so irresponsible", "I find you bleeding in my bed, I attend your wounds and you choose to call me cute" and occassionally a "I'll end up killing you someday".

Asa could just suppress a chuckle and let you work.

Cleaning the wounds turned repetitive to you, so once you got on track you ended up finishing in a blink of eye. When you had everything clean, you took the dirty bandages to a near trash can and thrown them away among the used cotton.

Then, you carefully took the now red tinted towels and took them away after cleaning carefully Asa's body with another.

When everything was perfect, you stood up before your finished work and smiled proudly.

"Not bad at all, Bug. You have exceeded my expectations".

"Not bad at all?" you asked offended. "Why didn't you change them yourself then, uh?" You asked him as you approached the bed and sat next to him with crossed arms.

"I was too tired. Also, it's painful to move and I didn't want to leave a blood trail either", he confessed as he adjusted his head position so he could lay it on your lap. "But I didn't think you would like or even be interested in taking care of it, so I thought I could just resist with them until the wounds healed"

You looked down at him with worried eyes as you patted his hair softly. "Why wouldn't I be interested in helping you? I love you Asa, and that's what partners do, they help eachother", you answered with a hint of sadness in your voice.

He looked up at your eyes with a straight face and furrowed eyebrows as if he were analyzing your expression. You began growing uncomfortable and even thought you said something wrong but, after a while, he looked away and sighed as he leant in your gentle touch.

"You really are the best thing that has happened to me, but don't you dare make me say corny things again or I'll kill you"

You giggled at the obvious lie in his words and kissed his forehead tenderly, "Oh, I'm so scared, Mr Collector" you mocked him as you peppered his face with sweet kisses and he could do no more than to throw grunts. Maybe it wasn't so bad to just surrender.

[rozcdust]

Waste it on me

Pairing: Takeomi Akashi x f!reader

Genre: Crack, SMAU

Word count: 1k

Warnings: Canon divergent, profanity, ooc, sugar daddy/ sugar baby relationship, age gap (both are consenting adults), suggestive, breaking and entering, reader is a petty bitch, Takeomi is what the french call a fucking idiot

pt. 1 | previous | pt. 24 | angst route | crack route | playlist | backstory

After a 10 minute session of clinging to Taiju’s leg, screaming about how ‘He needs to listen!’, he made the all too necessary executive decision to bring you to a public place in order to preserve both his eardrums and sanity.

After trying to coax you into going to the car yourself, which failed miserably, he picked you up by the collar, and holding you an arm’s reach away from himself as you thrashed around, trying to bite him like a feral kitten, he let out a heavy sigh as he walked to the car, throwing you in the backseat, alongside your shoes and jacket.

You pouted and loudly complained the entire way to the cafe, but when the two of you finally sat down, he pacified you by ordering your favourite dessert.

“So,” He started, taking a sip of his coffee, “Tell me about the guy.”

You narrowed your eyes, the spoon held firmly inside your mouth.

“So now you wanna listen?”

“Don’t give me attitude.”

“You’re the two-faced ass!”

“Tell me about him.” He sighed, rubbing his eyes in that specific ‘My child is being a menace’ way only fathers did.

“Okay, so,” You perked up, grinning, “his name is Takeomi, right, he’s a little older than me-“

“How older?” It was Taiju’s turn to narrow his eyes, looking at you suspiciously.

He was well aware of your track record of dating worrisomely older people, a record you fully blamed on your astrological chart, and defiantly not on God-awful daddy issues.

“Like…” You tilted your head, doing the math in your head, “14 years older?”

Taiju chocked on his coffee, receiving an unimpressed look from your side, staring at you, baffled, once he finally managed to clear his airway.

“14?”

“Yep.”

“Like, one and four? Seven plus seven? Ten plus four?”

You crossed your arms, annoyed and pouting with a raised eyebrow.

“Yes, and?”

“That is too old.”

“MARY WAS-“

“Do not bring the mother of Lord into this.”

You huffed, ignoring the looks surrounding people gave you for the sudden outburst, stabbing your spoon into the dessert as you glared at your godfather.

What a fucking nut.

“Anyway****, as I was saying.”

Taiju crossed himself.

You were blatantly offended, choosing to throw your napkin in retaliation.

“Sweetheart?” Takeomi called out, carefully closing the doors to his apartment behind him.

You came over to spend the night, but Mikey called him with an emergency, so he left you alone after some whining from your side, letting you study in his empty, oversized flat.

You were at the kitchen table, with books strewn around and your fingers pulling on a piece of hair, leg shaking as you took deep, shaky breaths, your brows furrowed in frustration.

He carefully approached you, fully aware of how irritated you can get when interrupted, more often than not choosing to be a pain in the ass in retaliation.

“I want to die.” You groan, slamming your face into the table, making Takomi cringe as some of the pencils and markers rolled off the table.

He starts gently massaging your shoulders, making you relax in his touch.

“I mean, you haven’t already, so kinda dumb to do so now.”

“Good point.” You mumbled into the dark ebony of the table, painfully forcing yourself to straighten out your back.

Tilting your head back, you pucker your lips, expectedly waiting for Takeomi to reciprocate, but he only raises an unimpressed eyebrow.

“You are an asshole.” You huff, crossing your arms in a fit of feigned anger.

“Sure thing.” He leans down to kiss your forehead, starting to make his way to the bedroom to change and shower.

You follow, plopping on his bed with a smirk as he starts unbuttoning his shirt.

“Enjoying the show?” He asks with a hint of annoyance as he takes the shirt off, showing off his toned back, adorned with too many scars for comfort.

You let out a wolf whistle as a response, ignoring the roll of his eyes as your lips curl up further.

“You are so hot, Omi.”

“Shut up.”

“Shut me up yourself, coward. You’re the hottest~ Truly a delicacy.”

“Stop it.”

You whined.

“But Omi! You are so hot, and smart, and charming, and considerate, and-“

He walked away to the bathroom before you could finish, fully ignoring you as you went on to hide the blush rising on his cheeks.

The shit you shamelessly do to his poor heart.

Even half an hour later, when he came back into the bedroom with a towel around his waist and drying his hair with a towel, you weren’t done.

“And brilliant, and handsome, and keen, and-“

“Do you never get tired of your own voice?”

You grinned at him smugly.

“No, I think it’s quite pretty.”

He sighed, laying down next to you, allowing you to take the chance to crawl up on top of him and nuzzle your face into his neck like a cat, happily mumbling about how warm he is into his neck.

He hoped tonight will be a peaceful night, one when you don’t cry out the name ‘Shi’ over and over in your sleep, one where he doesn’t wake up to find you holding his hand and staring at the bright Tokyo lights with a blank face and bruised lips.

He never asked, he knew better, he knew you’d just recoil away from him, much like a scared animal, and in return, you never mentioned it when the morning came.

He wanted you to sleep softly in his arms, just this once.

He didn’t know who the man he saw you with at the cafe today was, but it didn’t truly matter, not when you were laughing and chatting comfortably.

Or at least, Takeomi tried to tell himself it didn’t matter, tried to ignore the ugly bite of jealousy, tried to pretend it was fine.

It wasn’t like you were cheating, the two of you weren’t anything official, he wasn’t important in your life, he was nothing to you but a source of cash and a quick fuck you liked to indugle yourself in.

He tried to tell himself that it didn’t matter as long as you were smiling, even if he wasn’t the one sitting across from you.

But he was a liar.

🔖Taglist (closed):

@1818cigarettes @dilf-city @wakasa-wifey @rinsie @kisekihany @missarabellla @bajifairyy @cryszus @r-xochitl @emilywaters @m0rrax @levistiddies @bxnten @spookykoko @graythecoffeebean @yukihime-mikeys-girl @mukounisuru-gashadokuro @sunahyejin @crybabylisa @yamaguccitadashi @minoozi @gigibobigi @trashmemebitch @frogtits1 @sup-zfam @whydohumansss @xashiui @bontens-whore @nqctre @kennyb0y @chaoticyuna @haitanihime @adeptiixiao @denkis-slut @wakasagurl @dontfollowmelol @yukimaniac @marrymemanjiro @bajitorasprincess @somniari-94 @haikyuu-simps-assemble @gulfkfl @xiaos-boywife @lumi-does-some-stuff @hana-patata @snowyseungs @sanzuswh0re @itsyournumber1whore @lem0nsquizy @nana-phobia (second taglist in the comments! please let me know if i forgot to tag you 💕)

a/n: wow i’m alive… ehe 😬 sorry guys, my mental health was in a goofy silly mood 🤪 back at my bullshit tho 😤 it will take a while to respond to everyone tho bc i’m out of spoons 🥲

[nanaminokanojo]

Play the Game | Nanami Kento X You | Part 1/8

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, NANAMI!! 🎂

CHARACTERS: Nanami Kento X You (fem!reader | PLEASE READ THE NOTES BELOW*) | Gojo Satoru | Geto Suguru | Shoko Ieiri | Utahime Iori | other JJK Characters CHAPTER COUNT: 1/8 WORD COUNT: 5,000+ GENRE: romance | fluff | slight angst | eventual smut | ooc depictions | female reader with described appearance* | modern au | rich people au | aged up characters CHAPTER TRIGGER WARNING: profanity | alcohol use | age gap | strong/mature/suggestive language | mentions of bullying, injury SPOILERS: n/a

collection masterlist

one - two - three - four - five - six - seven - eight

"Play the Game" Masterlist

The final road before the bend that led to Gojo Manor stretched before Nanami, signaled by the consistent shield of the ancient cryptomeria trees that lined the road side. The forest was a momentary relief from the glare of the sun reflecting on the windshield of his silver Lexus. Such was the inconvenience of driving in the middle of a bright day when the sun was at its pedestal, making no room for shadows, no reprieve from the heat. He detested it.

A sigh escaped his lips. It’s supposed to be the beginning of autumn, he was thinking for the umpteenth time that day. He would really appreciate it if the Siberian winds would herald the actual beginning of the season. Yes, he thought. That would be nice.

The weather was, nevertheless, the least of his worries, and as he finally made the turn to the incongruously long gravel driveway of the estate, the real cause of his anxiety reared its head to the surface, presaged by the denser shadows of trees and the high gables of the colossal structure that housed the seat of the Gojo clan. It was supposed to be unfounded, his apprehension, or so he tried to convince himself since deciding to make an appearance earlier than expected. He couldn’t keep it at bay anymore when the emotion was mixed with hopeful anticipation. An odd combination, indeed.

He had no choice but to come, or rather, he wanted to come. It was for an important occasion anyway, Gojo Satoru and Utahime Iori’s wedding week specifically. If he was being honest, he wouldn’t miss it for the world. If it was significant to two of the most important people in his life then the same applies where his views on the matter was concerned. After all, he greatly appreciated it that Gojo chose him as his best man, well one of them anyway. The man could never make up his mind if he tried so, breaking the traditional order of things, he has two “best men” – him and Geto Suguru.

Much to the groom-to-be’s disappointment, Nanami initially planned to show up a day before the ceremony itself. It was an added displeasure to the fact that Geto wasn’t going to show up until later that week as he was overseas for work. Gojo still probably was disappointed since Nanami did not exactly say anything about showing up earlier. But when he saw an opening in his jampacked schedule which was rare, he took the opportunity to take time off work. As annoying as Gojo was, he did not deserve to have two absent best men on his wedding week. Besides, a week away from the firm wouldn’t hurt, and he thought it was a good way to unwind before his big case.

If he would be able to unwind anyway.

The man had been sure of how he would manage through the occasion if he only spent a maximum of two days surrounded by crowds which were sure to be invited to the happy celebration. After all, nobody ever expected the young master of the Gojo Clan to ever be serious enough about anyone romantically, much less get married. Now that he had to stay for longer, giving chances to more occurrences of a variety of events, he wasn’t so certain. Anything could happen at Gojo Manor. Anything.

His optimism relied on that fact. Troublesome things usually happened with Gojo and Geto together, throw in the other members of the family and the other clans in the area, but Nanami was betting everything on this week.

A pair of cool, aqua eyes met his dark orbs the moment he stepped into the semi-outdoor ballroom of the opulent house. It was always like instinct, the way Nanami’s senses seem to heighten and hyper focus on one person, all else tuned out and seemingly nonexistent. Like always, without a hitch, he found you.

Alas. If he was questioning the reason for his hopefulness, that wasn’t the case anymore.

There you were, stood on the elevated corner by the refreshments table. You appeared like a celestial being walking among mortals, the halo of silvery white hair shimmering under the sunlight filtering through the room making you seem as if you did not exactly exist in the same realm as everyone else.

You were initially not paying attention to anyone despite your cousin, Miwa, chatting away beside you. But then, you leaned towards the latter when she whispered something, being equally conspiratorial by raising your champagne flute to your mouth. By the looks of it, prior to that, you have long tuned them out, Miwa and her friends, what with your poor attempt at pretending to pay attention. Nanami knew you have mastered the art of doing so since you were a child. It wasn't on purpose, or so you say. You were simply oblivious most of the time or you just didn't care. And you tended to only see and hear what you wanted.

At the moment, he was the object of your attention. He was sure of it, unable to help but to be much too aware of it, nerves pulled to their limits like piano strings conditioned to make sounds at the slightest of touch of its ebony and ivory keys. The feeling he had made you real, existing. He wasn’t imagining at all.

At times, he still could not believe that he watched you grow up to the person you are at present. The first time he knew of your existence was when Gojo invited him and some of their other friends to that very house in middle school. You were just as remarkable as a child as you are as a grown woman, much too quick-witted and eloquent at six even as your nanny carried you astride her hip, looking very much like a female infant version of Gojo. The bright blue eyes you shared with the male shone with the same intelligence he possessed, probably more, even without doing or saying anything. It just emanated from the two of you even if Gojo behaved like an utter idiot at times.

You shifted your line of vision to Miwa who was inconspicuously flailing her hands as a silent and agitated command for the other girls to disperse when she saw Nanami approaching. In a split second, you were alone. Miwa has always been unreasonably fidgety around him but he never quite understood why.

"I seemed to have driven away your company," he said to you the moment he was within earshot, watching you exchange your empty glass for another that's full.

You finally faced him, your scintillating eyes glittering under the wide skylights above. They were fathomless as they were luminous, shining with mischief. It was a familiar sight. From a state of tedium, they seem to come alive at the idea of tormenting him.

"I don't mind."

Of course not. The corners of his mouth curled inconspicuously at that similarity he shared with you. "I seem to always offend that cousin of yours."

"Not really. Frighten is more like it." Your eyes stayed on him even as you drank from your glass.

"Frightened?" Nanami repeated with inflection. He knew Miwa was awkward around him, but it was news that she was afraid of him. He didn’t have anything against her since unlike you, she was actually a sweet girl.

"Well, you have always been purposefully abrasive, you have taken the language of sarcasm to a whole new level and you are a grouch," you told him without batting an eyelash when everyone else was intimidated by him. You were probably the only one who could treat him that way. Not even your brother who is his best friend could do that and mean it.

His planned glance turned into a sidelong stare when he saw how you were eyeing him the same way. The difference was that you had a knowing look about you, evident in the way your eyes shone with diablerie and the contumelious curl at the corners of your luscious lips.

"Is that your opinion of me?" he asked, his expressions remaining stoic. Inside, it was a different story. You are the last being on earth he wanted to view him the way others usually did. He always thought you acted around him differently – defied him, messed with his head (and heart if he was being honest), and annoyed him – because you saw him differently, too. He liked that idea, the feeling it gives him. It was already enough that you are forbidden territory because you are his best friend's little sister. He didn't want you to turn out to be just like everyone else.

You grinned but didn't satisfy his query with a response. It was just like you to keep him guessing that way. You loved your games and especially loved to play them with him. He liked to play along at times, but it gets difficult to keep up with your antics. Your thought process was something he still has to figure out despite years of knowing you.

Seeing that he wasn't getting anywhere by engaging you, he said, "Where's the groom-to-be?"

You pointed at the direction of the wood-framed glass doors leading to the indoor salon where your brother was speaking to one of the organizers for his wedding.

When Nanami followed your line of vision, he found the person in question. On a long table before Gojo were different arrangements of flowers, all in shades of pink, cream and white. Honestly, he saw no difference but Gojo was eyeing them as if choosing the right one will solve global warming.

"Being fussy about the flower arrangements more than his bride, obviously." Shaking his head, he shoved his hands into the pockets of his grey, pinstriped slacks before facing you again. "You think it's a good time to step in?"

At that, you smirked openly. "Wanna play a game, Nanamin?" you asked, appearing and sounding innocent as you addressed him with that nickname you knew he hated.

"Sure," he said without hesitation, knowing well the kind of person you are when you’re refused.

"No protestations this time, I see. You're learning."

He shot you a withering look, pushing his glasses up his nose. "That coming from a childish brat. I won't take offense." He immediately regretted saying that when he saw how your eyes glinted with something sinister. What it was, he didn't know, but he was sure about one thing: he just walked into another one of your traps willingly.

"Whoever gets a rise out of Satoru wins," you said, cocking your head to your brother's general direction.

That was easy, he thought. The fact that he showed up for the week-long preparations for the nuptials was enough to draw out a profound reaction from Gojo. Nanami was just that kind of best friend – absent. In his defense, he did make it to the important parts just in time, but this was something new to Gojo. For all he knew, he wasn't even expecting him to arrive until the wedding.

"Fine." He nodded at you, the action very minute. He was never big on actions. "We'll talk about the compensation later."

You returned the gesture with saccharine mordacity to it. "Alright." However, instead of moving towards the goal, you walked towards the other direction, signaling for him to go first.

It was an easy victory. The moment he walked into the salon, Gojo’s attention was immediately pulled away from the flower arrangements, his eyes going wide as saucers as he took in the fact that his best man arrived way ahead of time.

"Who are you and what have you done to Nanami Kento?" he asked aloud, making some of the guests for the day's luncheon turn towards them. He was evidently elated, his wife-to-be coming to join in, hugging Nanami while he clapped the man on the shoulder.

"I wouldn't miss this happy occasion for the world," Nanami told the couple, trying his best to convey his thoughts without sounding patronizing. That would be overdoing things even if it meant he would win against you. He wasn’t big on emotions and sentiments either.

All the while, his eyes furtively strayed to you, his competitor, watching you from way across the ballroom, sipping leisurely at your champagne as if you cannot be bothered. However, if Nanami thought he has seen the worst that you can do, he couldn't have been more mistaken in his life.

In the next moment, you entered the salon, appearing self-satisfied as you sauntered towards them, looking like a queen surveying your domain. "Well, well. If it isn't the big shot lawyer himself, coming to grace us with his presence!"

He clucked his tongue, reading through your ploy. You weren’t exactly one for theatrics most of the time, typically straightforward and brutally frank, but your games were as intricate as they were vexing. Nanami turned to face you just enough to conceal his expression from Gojo and Utahime, arching a brow at you in both challenge and question.

In a flash of black and white, you have taken your place in front of him barely a foot away. Your intention to further close the distance between the both of you only became evident when both your hands shot forward, taking possession of both sides of his face as you willed him to bend to your height, tiptoeing to make up for the remaining space. In a brief but seemingly drawn-out sequence of events, you staked your claim on his slightly parted mouth in a scorching lip lock.

Nanami was momentarily distracted by the faint taste of champagne, that detail registering in his brain before the sensation of your pliant lips pressed against his. The realization dawned too late making blood rush up to his head and for his ears to ring as he froze and burned simultaneously. His arms had unconsciously found their way around your slender waist, the feel of your warmth under your taffeta dress searing his palms. It was more for the purpose of steadying himself than you on your precariously high heels. The mere touch of your hand made him incoherent, but the feeling of your lips on his drove him to irrationality. The slim likeliness of the act happening between him and you made it feel as if he was going to pass out or wake up from a long, vivid dream.

He was there. He exists. You were there, real as can be. And you were kissing him.

Gasps erupted from all around, and before he knew it, you have pulled away, releasing your grip on him. As if he couldn’t dig his grave any deeper and punctuate his loss any further, Nanami leaned towards you, chasing your lips, attempting to continue your little interlude, uncaring of where you were or who was watching. After having a tiny taste of it, the absence of your touch affronted him like no other. If having you that close was what it meant to lose, then he will gladly have it.

Your laughter snapped him out of his trance. When his vision focused, he found you leaning away, your hand pressed against his chest to keep him at bay.

“Eager, aren’t we?” you said loud enough for him to hear, and for everyone’s benefit, you droned on, saying, “Been dying to do that since I saw you come in.”

Dazed, he just stared at you before him, the fact that he did not just lose to you within the premise of the game registering in his mind like a flash of lightning. Blood rushed to his head, heat permeating from the base of his neck to his scalp when his eyes strayed to Gojo who looked scandalized.

“You…what…” the other male endeavored to speak, but nothing coherent came out of his mouth, his blue eyes rapidly shifting between you and Nanami while his fiancée giggled beside him.

Indifferent to everything else and your sights only set on the object of your trickery, you tittered, savoring the hilarity of the situation. At least, to you, it was funny. “See you around, Nanamin,” you drawled and left with that confident gait, shaking your head in levity.

He wanted to join in on your conviviality, but the idea dissipated faster than water under intense heat when he saw his best friend eyeing him like he was about to castrate him. Nanami straightened up, rearranging his expression to that of quiet shock, laying it on thick by blinking cluelessly as if it was typical of him but Gojo was having none of it.

Ah, the joys of losing to you, he could just think despite his impending doom. Or maybe he was doomed to begin with. He couldn’t care less with the pleasant tingling of his lips and the memory of yours, the taste lingering on his tongue.

“You and me, in the game room. You’ve a lot of explaining to do.”

**

If Nanami would be asked how many times he lost to you, he wouldn’t have an answer. At least not for what is healthy for his pride and because he lost count. His only consolation was that he wasn’t the only one who had ever been under your thumb over the years you have had the upper hand. You’ve always had the advantage, and one way or the other, regardless of the odds of the games you played, be it tomfoolery or serious bets, you invariably have a way of turning them into your favor.

He could well say his chances of winning cases in court is higher compared to the fact that you always bested him in life. It frustrated him to no end.

“Wanna play a game?” Those were always the words which heralded a series of infuriating inconveniences that he, along with some other individuals, had to be subjected to ever since you acquired your penchant for mischief and seeming thirst to challenge if not victimize people.

Those words, paired with a ridiculous nickname of your choosing for each of your conquests gave one no choice but to engage. The way you say it was enough to rile even someone who just happened to be listening, as if you were surreptitiously patronizing the person of your choosing. The unreadable expression on your face when you initiate your games also makes one’s hackles rise. While Gojo had the same tendency to be condescending when he wanted to be, you were exponentially more menacing compared to him.

In your defense, you never did it to everyone. It was as if you have a rationale behind the selection of people you felt like messing with. Your criteria was not something that is known to anybody else. At first, it was just Gojo. Then Geto and Shoko Ieiri, another close friend of your brother, got a taste of it until finally, it was his turn. Anyone none the wiser would think your ‘affections’ were solely focused on Gojo’s friends, but apparently, it wasn’t the case.

There were three kinds of people where your games were concerned: people you didn’t give a damn about, those you liked to play with and those you engaged with but eventually stopped being a pain to.

Most people around you were the first type since you mostly didn’t give two fucks about them. For some reason, it had become a sort of status quo in the Gojo household to be included in your sphere but few were lucky enough to hold your attention long enough.

The third kind were people who seemed to have reached an understanding with you. Geto, Utahime and Shoko used to be casualties in your ploys, but after a game or two, they’ve eventually ‘graduated,’ and you treated them like equals. Apart from that, there seems to be an exceptional case when you did not have to inflict yourself on the person just like in the case of your closest friend, Itadori Yuuji. That kid was special somehow, and Nanami thought perhaps he was, too, until you got started with him.

As for him and Gojo, they were still people you liked to torment. His theory was that you were looking for something from the people you play with. If you find it, you stop. It wasn’t a theory anymore that it was a sort of defense mechanism if he deduced right, judging from the situations which led to the change in your behavior.

It all started when you came home from boarding school overseas after finishing your freshman year in high school. Gojo had invited them over as per usual for the summer events being held at their estate but suddenly started talking about his concerns over you.

“She’s distant,” he said with a sigh when asked about it. Apparently, your parents were upset over you decision not to attend the school of their choice anymore and threatened to drop out and run away if they insisted further. “And there seems to be something wrong with her. She seems different somehow. Very snappy and always in a foul mood. She rarely leaves her room, and when we try to help, she gets angrier.”

“She’s in that phase, huh?” Shoko mused. “Want me to talk to her?”

Gojo insisted to do it, being all dramatic and saying he had been a lousy brother. But that’s when you started being the way you were. You weren’t an angry teen anymore, just someone who indulged yourself by toying with others without regard to whose expense and to what extent. Most of them were harmless, but you very nearly endangered two of your friends, too.

Nanami dug his own grave when he purposefully tried to have a go at you, pointing out your mistakes in an attempt to intervene at that time. You used to be rather passive where he was concerned, polite even, but then everything changed that night.

He was somehow glad that you decided to approach him when you needed help when you usually gravitated towards Geto, surprised to see you at his doorstep past midnight and looking ashen.

First, you dared this new girl, Kugisaki Nobara, to sneak into the abandoned factory at night, and the girl ended up hurting yourself. You looked so regretful and distraught while explaining what happened on the ride to the factory, and for the first time, he realized that you only ever challenged people you held a certain degree of fondness for. Everything ended well without anybody else knowing of your mishaps but him, and in a twist of fate, she even became your first real friend.

And then, you started yet another game with Fushiguro Megumi, effectively getting him kicked out his father’s clan. You weren’t exactly aware about the deeper reason as to why his family wanted him to be close to you, only that you found displeasure in it because he was a groom candidate. It was common among old clans like yours, and when you dared him to tell your parents he had no intention of marrying you, your brother had to intervene and take the boy in, ending up registered under Gojo Clan instead. While his family was trash in all sense of the word, you were still at fault since you ruined his only chance at being accepted by the clan head. Still, he, too, became your friend, and more than that, an adopted brother.

“Is this some attention-seeking behavior you’ve learned somewhere?” Nanami asked you that time.

“I get attention without as much as lifting a finger being who I am.” You snorted. “I can’t expect everything to be positive though.”

He was taken aback by your statement then. Still, he tested his theory. You were different after all. While some people admired you for your genius and your otherworldly looks, there will always be those who hated you for it. It was like a repeat of Gojo, except that he had them, his friends. Whom did you have?

“Are you being bullied at school?”

At that, your pupils constricted, your bright eyes turning icy as you regarded him. You were quiet for a moment as you stared, not exactly enraged but your brows furrowed together. Nanami could see the cogs in your brain moving through your eyes when you slowly grinned and said those four words: “Wanna play a game?”

He’s been losing to you ever since, not really knowing what you want and what set you off, hell-bent on making him miserable at every opportunity you could take.

It wasn’t all different at present.

The moment he heard the click of the doorknob and your scent – a mix of crisp autumn air, vanilla and a hint of something that reminded him of happiness – registered in his brain, he froze on his chair in the study where he was currently taking notes on his upcoming case. It was a trade-off for the length of time he would be gone from the law firm he worked at. His grip on his pen tightened that he thought he would break it to splinters when he saw you from his periphery, still looking like a goddess, fresh and gorgeous despite the day's affairs.

You were so painfully beautiful that concentrating on the file before him was proving to be difficult. Everything else didn't make sense to him whenever you were in the same room as he is. It didn't help that you kissed him in front of everyone just a few hours ago. He couldn't forget the feeling no matter how many times he convinced himself that it was just you playing your games; that it was nothing. He wished it was otherwise, not that it helped in his cause a bit.

"What on earth was that about?" Gojo demanded, pulling him aside to the game room like a child who did something naughty. In fairness to him, he was still fond enough of Nanami to offer him a drink but, indeed, he thought, what on earth was that about?

He shrugged. "Have you met your sister? Surely, you know just what crazy antics she has up her sleeves. She gets her annoying side from you anyway."

The answer seemed to have placated the male for the time being but if you were going to continue with your mischief, Nanami has no way of telling where things can go. And judging by your confident gait and the complacent grin swathed on your countenance, you were up to no good again.

He carded his fingers through his blond locks, leaning back on the chair as he furtively watched you.

"Do you need anything?" he asked calmly despite himself.

"Hmm. I won," you murmured, rounding the heavy oak desk before vaulting yourself up on it to sit just beside his papers, your eyes zeroing in on the files.

He shot you an accusing glare. "What was that about?"

You arched a brow at him, wrenching your gaze from the documents with a frown, the way your eyes widened in mock innocence making him want to box your ears. "What was what about, Nanamin?” The preposterous nickname rolled off your tongue tauntingly. “I thought you hated questions that can be openly interpreted."

"Why did you kiss me?" he snapped.

"Well..." You openly mocked him with a smile. "Could there be any other reason apart from our bet?"

"Of all the things you could think of, you went for something that would give your brother a heart attack not to mention that it put me in hot waters."

“Isn’t that the objective of our little bet?”

He sighed. "This is the last time I'm indulging you."

"Eh? You said that the last time we saw each other, too." You feigned exasperation. "Doesn't change the fact that you lost again though."

"What do you want?" He finally sat up straight, stacking the documents on the table. "Why are you sitting there anyway?"

"You're right." You jumped off the desk and much to his confusion, instead of taking one of the seats at the other side of the table, you swatted his arm from the papers and sat on his lap like he was an easy chair.

"What –"

You turned to him then, your faces just inches from one another. "Is this better?" you asked as if you saw nothing wrong with your iffy position.

Nanami didn't know what to do with, his arms remaining still on his sides while he just stared at you as if you grew two heads. "Is this another one of your games?"

You leaned closer to him, your bright eyes drowning him. "You tell me." You laughed then. "I wasn't the one who couldn't get enough of this afternoon's kiss."

He shrugged before he could run away with his thoughts. You were right. He did want to kiss you more, but it wasn't as if he could.

Just then, you reached over and removed the glasses that were always perched over his nose then wore it yourself. "What are you doing?"

"You look better without them," you commented.

"I need them for reading." He rolled his eyes at you. "Get off, Y/N."

"Hmm? Is that really what you want?" you taunted, your hand having found purchase at the back of his head, fingers toying with his soft hair.

He placed a hand on your thigh, slowly climbing up to your hip, reveling in the feel of your warmth under his touch. He looked at you seriously then and leaned away, surprised when you frowned momentarily. It was so fleeting, he didn’t know whether he was imagining it when he saw disappointment on your face. That was a first.

"Y/N, Just tell me what you want. You won the bet after all."

Shrugging, you stood up as if you weren’t just perched on his lap. "Go figure," you quipped, sounding pissed off. "Think of something I would actually want. It's up to you."

“Another game?”

“Think of it as you want.”

"What?"

You slammed the door close in your wake before he could get an answer, once again leaving him there puzzled at your reaction and exasperated with himself.

-end of Part 1-

First of all, Happy Cake Day to the love of my life, Nanamin!

I made him a lawyer here cause that's freakin' hot!!!

*I used “you” here, but since my character is Gojo’s little sister who is established to be his female clone for reasons essential to the plot, she possesses the same blue eyes and white hair. I did not exactly want to create an OC (although technically, I did by describing Y/N), but I opted for the best of both worlds in this fic, leaning more towards the literary aspect of it as opposed to it just being reader/you-oriented. I hope this isn’t iffy to anyone, and yeah, i’m not being exclusive or whatever.

Everyone's aged up here as well, including the younger characters which will be included in the story.

Thank you so much for reading. Likes, comments and reblogs are deeply appreciated! Hope you enjoyed it.

© ORIGINAL WORK BY nanaminokanojo. CHARACTERS ARE INSPIRED BY GEGE AKUTAMI'S JUJUTSU KAISEN. [20210703]

PHOTO/IMAGE/GIF/FANART SOURCES CREDITS TO THE RESPECTIVE OWNERS.

[artemis-entreri]

[[ This post contains Part 2 of my review/analysis of the Forgotten Realms/Drizzt novel, Glacier’s Edge, by R. A. Salvatore. As such, the entirety of this post’s content is OOC. ]]

Genre: Fantasy

Series: The Way of the Drow: Book 2 | Legend of Drizzt #38 (#35 if not counting The Sellswords)

Publisher: Harper Collins (August 09, 2022)

My Rating: 2 out of 5 stars

Additional Information: Artwork for the cover of Glacier’s Edge and used above is originally done by David Palumbo. This post CONTAINS SPOILERS. Furthermore, this discussion concerns topics that I am very passionate about, and as such, at times I do use strong language. Read and expand the cut at your own discretion.

As of this point, I am still finishing this document. I will be posting the subsequent sections. The table of contents will be updated when it is complete.

Contents:

Introduction

I. Positives I.1 Sublime Similes and Marvelous Metaphors I.2 Other Effective Imagery I.3 Consistent Lore and Decent Worldbuilding I.4 Respectable and Respectful Characterization

II. Neutrals (you are here)

III. Negatives (Technical Writing)

IV. Negatives (Characterization)

V. World Breaks

VI. Religious Commentary

VII. Ego Stroking

VIII. Problematic Themes

IX. What’s Next

Neutrals

In this section, I will discuss the elements of Glacier’s Edge that aren’t intrinsically good or bad. These consist of new characterizations and lore introduced by the book. 

First, Jarlaxle’s wondrous hat appears to have gained a new function. In combination with his portable hole, the mercenary leader was able to utilize this new function to avoid being trapped in an icy tomb at the end of Starlight Enclave. We weren’t given details about how he’d managed to escape that fate in the previous book, but we were able to infer based on how we’ve seen him use his portable hole in the past that Jarlaxle laid it down to literally make a hidey-hole from the storm. Glacier’s Edge confirms this, as well as showing us a new feature of his hat:

This is no mundane umbrella, and not the least because it spends most of its time as a fashionable chapeaux. Apparently, in its umbrella form, the hat can withstand quite a lot of weight. Certainly, this newest function comes at an awfully convenient time, but this is Jarlaxle we’re talking about, and he’s already got so many magical gadgets for every occasion that an additional one hardly causes one to bat an eye. As far as Salvatore-invented magical items go, it’s also not all that ridiculous, so it’s just another feature to add to Jarlaxle’s long list of possessions.

It seems that the canonical appearance of drow is different now. Although they’ve often been portrayed with gray skin by both official and fan artists, prior to the uncovering of the aevendrow, drow have always been described as having black skin, or synonyms of black like ebony and obsidian. They’ve also often been explicitly stated as coal-black. That description is different now:

The unnamed woman in the passage above is Dab’nay, and although we haven’t been explicitly told what her skin color was before, shades of gray were never mentioned for drow by Salvatore prior to the recent drow updates. It doesn’t matter either way, but it’s noteworthy that he’s employing this change.

Aevendrow official stats haven’t been released yet as of this point. It is curious to me though that at least in Glacier’s Edge, it seems that aevendrow do not possess darkvision, or even lowlight vision:

As always, I’d like to play Devil’s Advocate, so let’s examine the above passage from the perspective that what we see here does not necessarily indicate that aevendrow do not have darkvision. Assuming that aevendrow can see in total darkness like their Lolthite brethren can, it’d be a lot less likely for an aevendrow to be afraid of the dark, which Allefaero is exhibiting not only with the squeezing shut of his eyes, but also the description of the darkness “closing in”. When we feel something closing in, the sensation comes from either a literal physical restriction of the space around us, or what feels like such, as caused by a restriction of our ability to see. A creature that can see in darkness would not experience this feeling of being closed in anymore than we would feel that way standing outside under a wide open sky. Assuming that the timid Allefaero is afraid of the dark despite being able to see in it, Galathae certainly isn’t timid, and the darkness is described as closing in about both of them, not just the scared young wizard. 

More telling than that though regarding aevendrow not having darkvision is that Galathae measures their position based on what she feels, not what she sees. The only reason for a creature to rely more on their senses other than sight is if those other senses are more powerful than their sight, and while drow have better senses than humans, we’ve never been given any indication that their other senses are more keen than their sight. Furthermore, Galathae has to feel about her belt to find the lantern instead of just looking down to find it. The fact that she brought the lantern is pretty conclusive evidence that they can’t see in the dark, but perhaps Allefaero is a darkvision-blind individual among aevendrow and the lantern is for his sake. However, this possibility also falls away when we’re told that Galathae only sees things that are glowing, rather than the shades of gray melding into colors where there are light sources, which she would’ve perceived if she had darkvision. It is thus safe to infer that Galathae cannot see in the dark. 

Of course, it is always possible that only Galathae and Allefaero do not have darkvision among the aevendrow, but setting aside how stupid it would be to send two individuals like that into a dark space instead of pairing each with someone who has darkvision no matter how formidable they are, all the other aevendrow teams are similarly equipped, namely, with light sources. All of them need a light in order to conduct a proper investigation of the cave, which they would not need had they darkvision. It is the case that darkvision only allows seeing in shades of gray and that illumination is necessary for seeing color, but the shades of gray of darkvision do not omit any details, it would be the same as looking at a scene under sharp light but without hues. It's worth noting that this is distinctly different from how real life low-light goggles work. Most of the earlier generations of modern light intensification systems required significant training to use successfully as they suffered from issues with edge definition, fine detail, depth perception, and dependence upon moon-reflected infrared radiation. Darkvision is magical in nature, allowing it to not suffer from any of these issues and allows for crisp, clear and easily usable vision. 

Galathae and Allefaero are delving into very dangerous territory, one in which a light would draw unwanted attention to themselves. Logically, they’d only use a light if they can’t see without it, which indeed seems to be the case, further backed by the description of what happens once they uncover their light:

This passage summarily describes the experience of a creature that can’t see in the dark suddenly having their surroundings revealed with light. The position that I took while playing Devil’s Advocate does not hold; aevendrow, or at least Galathae and Allefaero, do not have darkvision. That being said, it’s very likely that they’re not the only two that are that way, as many similar aevendrow exploration teams are being sent into similar caves. 

So, why would aevendrow have lost their darkvision? Perhaps you’re thinking, millennia of differentiation and evolution away from their Underdark counterparts ridded them of the necessity for darkvision. There is validity to that, however non-drow elves have darkvision, and they spend all of their time on the surface world. One could argue that surface elves have darkvision because it’s helpful at nighttime, but the thing is, darkvision under nighttime makes the world look like a colorless version of the world in daytime, with it being painfully bright on cloudless nights. Darkvision is overkill even for fully overcast nights, yet non-drow elves still have it, so it’s pretty odd that aevendrow do not. In fact, it’d make even less sense for them to have evolved out of it while their surface cousins did not, since we’re told that where the aevendrow live, there are entire seasons in which the sun does not rise. Sure, they’ve got the Merry Dancers, but those would be hidden by the numerous ice storms that the region also experiences, and it’s questionable whether aurora borealis would be brighter than Selûne and all of its tears, as well as a night sky full of stars. It could just be something that Salvatore overlooked, as Jarlaxle apparently also lost his darkvision (which I will go into more detail about later). It’s hard to say at this point and too soon to tell for sure, we will have to see when WotC releases official stat blocks for aevendrow.

The final new piece of new neutral impact lore that I’d like to discuss is some new attributes being given to remorhazes, also known as polar worms:

We find out pretty early in the trilogy that polar worms play a big part in the aevendrow storyline, so it’s no wonder that they’re being discussed. However, the passage above also tells us how Callidae will have to open its doors to outsiders from the south lands. It’s very much a having their hands forced situation, as it’s either let out the secret of their existence or have no reason for that secret to exist. They might not know how to deal with excruciating heat, but a people who, oh, I don’t know, literally live with an active volcano that houses a fire primordial, certainly might.

Going back to polar worms, the mentioned information about them does not correlate to what’s been written about them in both the D&D sourcebooks and other official publications. There’s never been any indication that the remorhaz can age and develop without eating for decades. There’s also no precedent for them being able to eat or chew crystals. Up until this book, polar worms are known to prey upon other arctic creatures that shared their environments, such as elk and polar bears. In fact, its hunting tactic is adapted to the acquisition of live prey, as stated in the 5e Monster Manual: “When hunting, a remorhaz burrows deep below the snow and ice and lies in wait for the faint vibrations created by a creature moving above it. While hidden under the ice and snow, it can lower its body temperature so that it doesn’t melt its cover.” The changes introduced by Salvatore seem unlikely, as that would be quite the elaborate adaptation for a creature that doesn’t need to eat for decades, or one that can sustain itself on crystals. However, fundamentally, it’s not a huge deal, and it’s an observation made by a member of a group of people who haven’t had much direct chance of studying a living remorhaz, so it can be written off easily enough as an unreliable narrator’s words.

There is no existing lore about the relatedness of remorhazes and dragons. Dragons can indeed go decades without eating, as there is precedence of dragons slumbering for very long periods of time without waking up to eat. There isn’t much information about whether dragons can grow and develop without sustenance, but given the wide multitude of things that dragons are capable of, that hardly seems like something they wouldn’t be able to do. The lack of previous indication about remorhazes and dragons being related is not challenged here, as the statement is an impromptu hypothesis from Allefaero that we never hear about again. Hopefully it stays that way.

Polar worms making a sound similar to a cat’s purr when they’re chewing or eating also doesn’t have any precedence in existing lore. It is yet another minor factoid that can be attributed easily enough to an unreliable narrator, as Allefaero states they’ve “been known to” rather than testifying to hearing the sound himself. Furthermore, even if the sound does in fact exist, different people often interpret the same sound in different contexts, what sounds like a purr to one person can very well sound like a growl to another.

Although Allefaero’s mention of polar worms “training” their teeth on crystals is presented with a greater degree of certainty than the mention of their purring, this behavior is also one that he has not personally observed. There is, yet again, no precedence in existing lore about whether remorhaz teeth grow continuously, and if they do, whether they grow like rodent teeth or like shark teeth. Rodents do have to chew hard objects to keep their teeth from becoming too long if their normal diet does not do the job, however it is rare for their teeth to fall out. Sharks, on the other hand, grow new teeth to replace ones that have fallen out as a result of getting stuck in their prey. Allefaero likens the remorhaz to both rodents and sharks, which, like much of Salvatore’s attempts to sound deep, doesn’t make a whole lot of sense when one puts some thought into it. As I doubt that we’d get an official answer from him about how remorhaz teeth regrowth works, I’d guess that, based on what’s presented in Glacier’s Edge, that a remorhaz’s existing teeth grows continuously like a rodent’s so that they would have to chew hard objects, like crystals, to keep them from growing so long that they stab themselves in the mouth, but at the same time they also grow back lost teeth like sharks do if they lose their teeth from getting them stuck in their prey. While it is true that all of this is stuff that feels like it was made up on the spot to make the plot work, it’s not the most ridiculous thing that Salvatore has done.

All in all, the information discussed in this section are entries that should go into character and creature bibles that the author himself doesn’t seem to keep.

[ebonyforged]

that said, ive changed ebony’s entire classic dmc lore fdjghdfjg

the moment nico said ebony and ivory were crafted by her grandmother i knew i was fucked yall

[blue-lions-baby]

“D” is for...? (Dimitri x Reader)

hi!! here’s another pre-timeskip dimitri x reader fanfic! as much as i love post-timeskip dimi, sometimes my heart just needs a break from all the soul-crushing angst :’)

this is my first time writing all of the Lions at once, so please forgive me if they’re a bit ooc! regardless, i hope you enjoy my fic~

all fluff and no spoilers!!

~*~

No... No no no...

You cradled your head in your palms and rammed your head against the hard, stone floor. Your ears perked at the tiny scratching echoing from the opposite side of your sorry, hunched-over frame and your eyes zeroed in on any sign of movement in the dark crevices between a bookshelf and the wall.

This is bad... This is really, really bad...

“(F/N)...? Is, uh, everything all right?”

“D-Dimitri!” Without much warning (or thought) you shot up to greet the royal, but the ebony side table you were under kept you on your knees. A sharp, throbbing pain blossomed from the point of impact and the recoiling force was enough to propel you face first onto the floor. Dimitri just barely caught the wobbling vase in time and set it cautiously back in place.

“(F/N), are you okay?! D-Do you want me to take you to the infirmary?! I can fetch Professor Byleth or even Mercedes to take a look--”

“No!”

“N-No?”

“I have to get him back!”

“Get who? (F/N), what are you--”

“My duck!”

Your... Your what?

Dumbfounded was not a strong enough word to describe what this man was feeling. All he could do was watch in silent confusion as you desperately clawed at an invisible being lurking in the dark. He stepped away and around the table you unceremoniously slammed your head on and peered into the darkness.

“Come here, darling,” you cooed gently, a tinge of anxiety tainting your sing-song plea, “c’mere, baby...”

“Um... Please come out, little one.” Dimitri commanded? Can you even call that commanding? What in Goddess’ name am I even doing He rubbed the back of his neck and looked around anxiously. Judging by the proximity of the bookcase against the wall, it wouldn’t be unreasonable to surmise that the duckling was stuck, or trapped in some way. Dimitri coaxed his chin in deep thought, assessing the situation like a tactician trying to sneak their captured comrade out of enemy territory.

“Boar. (F/N). The hell are you two doing?”

Both your heads whipped to face the steely voice by the entrance (you especially careful with your still aching head) and saw a frowning Felix glowering at the... activity, he walked in on. A glowing Sylvain followed shortly.

“W-Woah! Hey there, Your Highness! (F/N).” He purred your name sweetly and shot you a wink. “Is this really what you call flirting, Your Highness? Honestly... I know you don’t know much in the ways of love, but seriously--”

“Shhh!!!”

Sylvain’s mouth flew shut as Felix stalked over to the both of you cautiously. He planted his feet behind the side table and squinted into the dark. Sylvain took position under Dimitri just in time for him to hear faint scratching and weak chirps. A flurry of excitement and shock surged through the redhead’s amber eyes; Dimitri slapped a hand over the redhead’s piehole before a gurgle of surprise could leave him.

“(F/N),” Felix growled lowly, “what is that?”

“I-It’s--”

“Coming closer...!” Dimitri scream-whispered. Everyone instantly shut up and focused their attention down the dark trail. Soon a small, white puff with two beady eyes shimmied out of the corner and closer, closer, so close to your shaky outstretched hand. You all held your breath; the corners of your lips slowly turned up. You felt a tickling sensation at the tip of your middle finger. Almost...!

“Hey everyone! What’cha doin’?”

The spooked duckling let out a distressed cry and scurried back into its dark corner. Your insides twisted themselves into a knot as your heart ignited into pure rage. The air around you suddenly grew chillingly biting and murderous; everyone (even stone-cold Felix) shivered slightly. Your head whipped around so fast Sylvain could’ve sworn he heard a crack.

“Who,” you spat, pure venom dripping from your tone, “said that?”

Poor Ashe-- sweet, sweet Ashe. He was a dead man walking.

Your body coiled out from under the table like a snake snapping out of its hidden lair and you immediately pounced at the silverhead who scared away your baby. Ashe let out a small yelp and stumbled backwards, petrified in fear by the bloodthirsty glint in his classmate’s eyes. The three men who were with you scrambled to get you under control; it took Sylvain, Felix, and Dimitri’s beastly strength to keep you from separating Ashe’s head from the rest of him.

After that fiasco (and Dimitri hastily explaining the situation to the trembling archer), you finally calmed down and dutifully went back to your post, futilely calling and cooing to your lovely little duckling-- a direct contrast to the wild beast that everyone had just witnessed. Ashe, still understandably shaken up, kept to the door and informed anyone coming into the classroom to enter in a calm and peaceful manner (a ghastly glare from a certain (H/C) individual sent prickling chills down his spine every so often).

Before long, everyone in the Blue Lions was aware of the fuzzy little occupant wedged between the bookshelf and wall.

“Everyone, listen up.” Professor Byleth’s voice rang softly throughout the classroom. They paused, despite having everyone’s full attention. They looked at the spot where all their students were congregating and then the empty desks in front of them. With a slight sigh and a small nod, they continued.

“No lesson for today. Our top priority is getting Ms. (F/N)’s duck out of its... current location.” 

Your features lit up and tears pricked the corner of your eyes. You bowed gratefully to your teacher and whispered sweetly to your darling duck.

“Please come out, sweetie... No one’s going to hurt you...”

. . .

“Ugh, Mercie... I can’t see...”

“Oh dear, I’m sorry... Is this better now?”

“Your Highness, are you feeling all right? You’ve been hunched over like that for awhile now...”

“I am fine Dedue, thank you.”

“I read somewhere that ducks like to eat plants and small creatures... Maybe we can--”

“Ow! ... Felix, stop shoving me!”

“Shut up, you idiot. If you can’t handle a little push like that, then you should probably spend more time training than chasing girls.”

“Ugh, I swear you two don’t ever change...”

“Everyone, I am going to try and say this as politely as possible,” you inhaled sharply, “but please shut the hell up.”

Several “sorry’s” resounded around you and you internally groaned. Byleth scooted over to you and tapped you on your shoulder, motioning for you to come closer.

“Have you considered moving the bookcase?”

“We did, but... Seeing how close the bookcase is to the wall, we might squish my lil’ duckling...”

Byleth hummed thoughtfully and took a quick glance around the classroom. “Perhaps... All these people crowding around it is making it hesitant to come out?”

You lightly gasped and looked at the smirking professor with wide eyes. Dimitri’s hypersensitive ears picked up the tiny sound you made and instinctively listened in. He eventually got the general idea and (alongside Byleth) informed the rest of your schoolmates to slowly back away.

Your back cricked and ached from being hunched over all day; your vision began to blur-- possibly a consequence from staring into the dark for too long. Your limbs shook slightly and you could feel a painful knot in your calves slowly tying itself into existence. You blinked away the pain and reconstituted your mental fortitude for the umpteenth time that day. You wanted to give up, to give in to your exhaustion, but--

Chirp! ... Chirp, chirp...!

Your foggy eyes drifted to the source of the noise and every muscle in your quivering frame clenched. Dimitri began to unconsciously float to your side but was quickly stopped by the firm grip Byleth placed on his arm. This was something you had to do alone, his professor’s eyes read. Dimitri bit his lip and tightened his palms into paling fists, praying to the Goddess to grant you strength.

Yes... Yes...! Almost there!

The prickly sensation of budding claws clambering onto your palm shot sparks through your body. Slowly shimmying out from under the table, you patted and held the little duckling close to your heart. You cooed sweet assurances into its ear as you sent the brightest, most triumphant smile to your classmates. Everyone cheered (silently, of course) and each one of the Lions took turns to pet and fawn over your fluffy companion. A look of surprise reflected in your professor’s eyes when your duckling took a particular interest in them, inciting a quiet giggle from you.

At last, the house leader sauntered up to you slowly, eyes trained on the minuscule bundle of fluff awkwardly waddling on your palms. He curved around the side of your frame and took the back of your hands in his gloved ones gingerly. Your classmates held their breath (and a few giggles from the more... knowing individuals) for an entirely different reason altogether. 

“May I...?” Dimitri mouthed, unconsciously rubbing shallow circles into your hands. You nodded quickly, pushing your darling pet slightly away from your heart lest it get spooked by its quickening pace. The corners of the prince’s lips turned upward slightly as the tips of your fingers connected with his, forming a bridge between your hands and his much larger ones. 

As soon as the duck crossed over, he slowly pulled the creature close to his heart and lovingly rocked it, akin to the tenderness of a mother cradling her newborn babe. It took everything in your power to hold in a squeal. You mentally engraved this heartwarming scene into your mind, tucking it away to cherish forever. 

Dimitri’s azure eyes flashed to yours briefly before returning it to the duckling who has long become acclimated to everyone in the room. The longer he held the baby fowl, the bigger his smile grew; everyone felt at ease watching the scene before them. Believing that he has separated you from your darling duck for long enough, he began to extend his arms to hand it back to you--

Soft gasps filled the room and you stood there, absolutely dumbstruck. Your duckling was snuggling closer to Dimitri’s chest, black eyes on the verge of closing. A full day of hiding and scurrying must’ve tuckered the poor baby bird out, and it now laid sleeping comfortably on the palm of the prince.

A look of pure panic was seared onto the royal’s face as he looked at you worriedly and apologetically. A sizable lump formed in his throat while he tried looking to his other classmates for help. Students and professor alike shot him an equally baffled look, though the streak of resignation on their faces contrasted the anxious energy that exuded from Dimitri.

You gently cleared your throat, catching the attention of the frantic teen instantly. You held up a note to him that read,

“It seems to like you a lot. I really don’t want to disturb it... If you want, you can keep it for the rest of the day; just give it back to me tomorrow.”

“Are you certain?” He whispered, overly-cautious in rousing the duckling to consciousness. You smiled happily and scribbled down your response.

“Yup! I don’t mind. I know you’re pretty fond of it too. You look super happy holding it! Just please take good care of it.”

He would’ve bowed, but a curt nod would suffice in this situation. The serious look in his eyes softened instantly when the ultra-adorable bundle of love in his hands pressed further into him. He looked up at you and beamed.

“Have you come up with a name for it yet?”

You leaned back on a desk and mulled it over, letting your head roll back slightly in your deep contemplation. You traced the curve of your chin, mentally eliminating name after name in your head. What could you possibly--?

Aha!

The somewhat frazzled man almost leaped from how fast your head whipped back into place, and the throbbing in his heart swiftly escalated to rocketing levels at the sight of your breathtakingly gorgeous smile. You excitedly bounced over to him and stood on your tiptoes; despite your best efforts to allay the obvious height difference, Dimitri still had to bend over slightly to hear what you had to say. Your answer to his query almost sent him to the Goddess above.

“D-Dimi? ... Hah... If I may be so bold, I would think that you named it after me, using a name like that.”  

“Good, because I did.” You whispered teasingly in his reddening ears. You stifled in a laugh at how absolutely red your classmate has gotten, and that lovely hue of crimson didn’t go unnoticed by the rest of your peers. For now, however, Dimitri’s social standing among the members of his house would last one more day all thanks to Duckling Dimi.

*bonus: Dimitri did not let go of the little duckling for the rest of the day, cradling and (when no one was present) humming to it every now and then. Despite already having a name, he couldn’t help calling it (Your Nickname)-- named after the cutest and sweetest person he knew.

[nanawritesstuff]

of peace and devotion (nsfw)| December 28th, MadaSakuWeekend 2019

@madasakuweek​ thank you for organising and motivating us all to write!! I know I’ve been lazy, and this weekend truly stirred the madasaku pot and had me cooking!

prompts, December 28th: yandere au, possessive, "you belong to me" Fandom: Naruto

Pairing: MadaSaku 

Rating: 18+/Explicit 

Word Count: 6947

Summary: Soulmates don’t mean much to Sakura, who’s never fallen in love. After she catches her boyfriend cheating, she wonders if she’s really meant for love. What will she do then, when it quite literally stumbles through her door? | sequel to of war and peace

Warnings/Tags: explicit sexual content, mild language, OOC behaviour, modern au, hints of very soft yandere behaviour...if you squint, cliche, Sakura deserves a soft Madara!! I'm just cold and lonely leave me to my soft things!!

a/n: that was the most cliched summary I’ve written in my life, this is what happens when you watch too many kdramas

In Sakura's world, at this very moment in time–the term soulmates holds very little meaning.

As she steps through the doors to the elevator, grocery bag in hand, her mind recalls the unpleasant events of the previous week. The week itself had started out like every other one; early shifts, her usual patients, nothing too unusual apart from a few bumps here and there that she had no trouble dealing with. And now, on this chilly Tuesday, she gets to be home on Christmas Eve. 

Alone. 

This was the one unexpected bump in her plans. Something she hadn't even thought of, so she couldn't have planned for it–to catch her boyfriend of six months in the break room with his mouth glued to the new nurse's neck. She had stood there, watching them go at it for a whole minute before Ami had spotted her and shrieked. It was only the dawning horror in her eyes as she heard Sasori stammer out his pitifully weak excuses that told Sakura the girl hadn't known about the handsome redheaded doctor's girlfriend: her, Haruno Sakura.

Something Sasori must have been only too happy to take advantage of, she's sure.

That is why Sakura had accepted her tearful apologies with a stiff smile and continued on with her day. Ino, as soon as she found out, dragged her to the cafe, attempting to coax out the tears and curses with cold doughnuts–a reaction that just wouldn't come. That particular bit was reserved for her evening shower. Sakura was sad, yes and quite disappointed with how things turned out. Their relationship, while far from perfect, had been important to her. She had been trying to meet his expectations since before they even started dating but Sasori's nitpicking never ended; his complaints about her working too much had been increasing by the day. He also thought they weren't having enough sex. 

'I guess he went fishing,' she thinks with only a slightly bitter sigh. They were never going to last, and she should have accepted it sooner. But it had been comfortable. It had been safe. And now it's over. All her life, she’s felt as if something’s been missing. As if she’s forgotten something, as if she’s been waiting for something to come back to her.

She realizes she's been standing in front of her door for more than a few minutes, and the sound of a shuffle reaches her ears, drawing her eyes towards it. Eyes the deepest shade of dark ink, brows furrowed in concern and a slender mouth curled into a gentle smile. 

"You've been standing there for about five minutes," he says in lieu of a greeting. She blinks rapidly, shaking off the melancholic energy and smiling back at her neighbour. 

"Itachi-san! I see you've got the evening off." She eyes his sleek jacket, sniffing as the subtle notes of his familiar cologne reach her. The plastic container in his hands looks out of place in the impeccable image he makes. "Off to see Izumi-san?"

"Ah. Our families are finally having dinner together," he divulges with a nervous little smile before holding the box out towards her. "And these are for you. I received the batch yesterday." 

"Gingerbread cookies?" she guesses, her eyes lighting up at once as if she's been handed the one ring to rule them all. "Thank you. Your uncle is an angel."

"Just make sure you actually eat something before opening those bottles," he says sternly, with a pointed look at the wine bottles in her grocery bag. Sakura can't help but laugh nervously and shift the bag out of view in a futile attempt at hiding the contents from view. “And please don’t call him my uncle.” 

"But he is your uncle, isn’t he? Also, don't tell Sasuke? You know he'll nag. And send Naruto." 

"Alright. Only because I know you need space. Just take care and text one of us if you need anything. I'll be crashing at my parents'." He gives her a supportive pat on the back before continuing on, and Sakura adores him for trying. Itachi has been worried about her since she told him about The Break-Up, and he's also the only one who understood her when she said she felt more relief than sorrow. 

"Will do. Good luck, I hope you have a wonderful evening," Sakura calls out after him before unlocking her door. Stepping into the darkened entrance, she fumbles for the light switch as she slips out of her shoes, wrestling with her puffy. Her apartment is completely silent, and it bothers her less than she thought it would. With a silent apology to her worrywart neighbour, she starts looking for the wine opener. 

She does break into the box of cookies first. One of the small traditions she looks forward to every Christmas since she was twelve. The first time she tried these was in 6th grade when Sasuke brought some to class. One bite and she begged her grumpy friend for some every single year. His uncle bakes them for the entire family and ever since he found out how crazy she is about them, he makes sure to send some for her too. 

Two glasses in, she's pleasantly buzzed and curled up in her soft blanket, her laptop open on her lap. The first Harry Potter movie plays on the screen, and it reminds her of Sasori and how he hates the entire series. If he had been here, he would have insisted on watching something she has very little interest in herself. It's alarming how she's finding more pros to ending things with him by the hour, but than can only be a good thing now that he's out of her personal life.

The forty text messages from him are going to stay unread. 

Just as she's contemplating getting another snack before she starts the second movie, the doorbell rings, and at first, she thinks she's imagined it. It's 12:04 on the clock, and if Ino had been planning to drop in at midnight, she would have texted first. It rings again, and Sakura starts to feel uneasy. There's a series of heavy, hurried knocks on the door. 

'Please, please don't be Sasori-'

"Oi, Itachi! It's freezing out here, open the fucking door!" 

And there's the magic word. Itachi doesn't give his address out to people he doesn't trust, and with how familiar this stranger seems to be with him–it's probably not a serial killer. A peek through the peephole shows unruly ebony strands, and with a deep breath, she opens the door just a crack. There is little point in the cautiousness as the stranger stumbles through the door, trembling violently as he nearly runs her over.

"Took you long enough! I really need to take a-" The man pauses as he finally stands up straight, taking in the unfamiliar surroundings, and the girl staring at him in concern. "Uh-you're not Itachi."

"Definitely not," she confirms dryly, crossing her arms over her chest, just tipsy enough to not feel self-conscious about her fuzzy pyjamas and an oversized sweatshirt. She has no idea who he is but Sakura has spent enough time with the Uchiha siblings and their relatives to know one of their clansmen when she sees him. "I'm his neighbour."

"Right, definitely prettier than him. Sorry. Fuck. Oh-sorry about that too," he mutters, a slight flush spreading over the high point of his cheeks. His sheepish tone contrasts greatly with his roguish look. Wild, dark hair that falls to his back. A black leather jacket that does little to hide his well-built form, and unusually deep-set eyes that stay strangely focused on her even as he squirms with discomfort. Her heart races, making her wonder if it's the alcohol or his cologne that's hitting her so hard. "I'm...just gonna go." 

"Itachi's not home," she blurts out. "So, um."

"Oh," he sighs. His shoulders slump and she can't help but sympathize. "My bad. I should've checked." 

"Yeah. Well, if you need to, you know." She points towards the hallway leading to the bathroom, and he blinks in slight confusion before he gets it. 

"Are you sure?" he waits for her nod before he sighs once more, this time with relief, and begins to tug his boots off. "Shit, thanks. I'm really sorry to intrude, I just really need to-"

"Not a problem. It's right down the hallway, first door on the left!" she cuts in with a slight laugh, closing the front door as he hurries off. Just as she thinks to text Itachi, she realises she doesn’t have a name. 

She probably shouldn’t trust a stranger this much, but she reasons that it’s Itachi she trusts, so it should be fine to flop back on the couch and resume her drinking. 

Light footsteps indicate the not-a-complete stranger’s return, and Sakura turns to study him over the back of the couch. He seems calmer now, looking around her apartment curiously before he turns to smile at her. 

“Thanks again. I probably would’ve-if you hadn’t-yeah. Thanks,” he flushes slightly at the sight of her trying and failing to hide a grin before he looks over her head at the coffee table. “Wait-are those Izuna’s cookies?” 

“Itachi’s uncle? Yeah,” she affirms with a dreamy smile, reaching for another treat. He makes a weird face at her words. 

“Yeah. His uncle.” She cocks a brow at his wince. “Right, I’m-his brother. Madara.” 

Sakura can’t quite describe the jolt she feels at his name, and tries to ignore it as she takes the hand he holds out. His palm is warm and dwarfs her own, curling around it gently. Something in her shakes and she wonders if she’s always been so nervous around good-looking men she didn’t grow up with. 

The name is a familiar one though, and she's sure it was Shisui who mentioned it. It explains how young he looks–Madara and Izuna are cousins to Itachi and Sasuke's father, born to a father who married quite late, at least according to the older generation's standards. It had the whole clan in quite a tizzy, according to Shisui. She's also sure she isn't supposed to be privy to clan gossip so she's going to keep her mouth shut.

“I’m Sakura.” 

He smiles at that, his eyes softening in the dim light of her living room. “Of course it is.” 

Her cheeks feel strangely warm and she feels like a fool, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear. 'But,' the voice in her head that sounds a little like Ino's soothes her. 'Look at him. He's beautiful.'

"So, that makes you the other uncle." 

"Ugh," he groans before doing an abrupt turn and smirking wickedly. "So that makes you the girl Sasuke wrote that poem for when he was eight?"

"Why do you know about that?" It's more demand than a question, but Sakura really doesn't bring up that long-buried memory unless it's for the specific aim of tormenting Sasuke.

"Who do you think helped him write it?" he taunts, snickering at her startled expression. 

"And to think I'd been so impressed with the big words." Sakura shakes her head with an air of exaggerated disappointment. 

"Well, I'm glad to see I got most of it right," he shrugs, the tips of his ears reddening tellingly. "If it’s any consolation, I'm sure he knows them now...I think."

Her responding laugh is cut off by the sound of the doorbell ringing again, and they both look at each other as if expecting the other to have expected it. Madara shrugs and she moves to the front door, standing up on the tips of her toes to look through the peephole. Really, what's with her home attracting unexpected guests at–

She whirls around in a panic. 

“Everything okay?” he asks quietly as she rushes back, looking like she’s going to throw up. 

“Um, yeah. No. I don’t know. It’s my ex.” 

“An ex you want to see...?” he trails off.

“Absolutely not,” she mutters, pressing the heels of her palm to her eyes. She can feel a headache coming on with the new arrival and honestly, it is so very like Sasori to drop in without asking, expecting her to be okay with him ruining her night. Madara watches her freak out for a few seconds before nodding resolutely. 

“Okay. Leave it to me.” Sakura makes a grab for his arm as he moves towards the door, trying to tug him in the opposite direction.

“What are you doing?” she hisses.

“Well, I owe you one. And I can’t just leave you to deal with an ex you clearly don’t want to see–especially at this time of the night,” he explains easily, trying to tug his arm from her grip. He tries to uncurl her fingers from where they’re digging into his bicep, and she nearly jumps when their hands touch once more. It's only now that she realizes how close they are, and that she's nearly hanging off his arm in an attempt to stop him from opening the door. "Hey, it's okay. I'll take care of it."

He looks back to wink at her before bending over to slide his boots on, and Sakura has to nearly tear her eyes away from the ridiculously appealing sight. He reaches the door and unlocks it deftly, and she's thankful for him looking away, because that was nearly devastating enough to make her forget about why he’s answering her door. 

Then she hears the one voice she absolutely did not want to hear again, at least until she goes back to work tomorrow.

“Saku-you’re not Sakura,” she hears Sasori say, and she can imagine his disgruntled expression with perfect ease.

“Definitely not,” Madara says in an echo of her own words, and she can’t help the subtle smile that stretches across her mouth. “Can I help you?”

“Who are you?” 

“None of your business.” 

“It is if you’re at my girlfriend’s house at this time of the night.” 

At that Sakura steps up next to Madara, crossing her arms in annoyance and trying not to blush when Madara slides his arm around her. He keeps his hand on the curve of her waist, his touch gentle and loose, but mostly reassuring. It also serves to annoy Sasori greatly, who looks like he can't quite believe what he's seeing. 

“Ex-girlfriend. What do you want?” she snaps. She's sure he didn't leave anything at her place.

“Sakura, who is this?” 

“Like he said, it’s none of your business.” She shivers a little and Madara tugs her closer, moving his hand to rub it over her arm in quick, light movements. She's a little amazed at how warm he is and quite upset that she has to stand in the cold because Sasori can't speak quickly enough.

"Um, well, I was just at a party at Hidan's." Who happens to live nearby. "And I was just...wondering if I could crash here. I thought we could talk." 

For a long moment, Sakura can't quite bring herself to say anything. Not because she's considering saying yes–but because the nerve of this man has, not for the first time, left her speechless. 

"Sasori, we-"

"I know, I know," he grumbles. He then shrugs and grins in a way she had once thought was charming, leaning in slightly. "Your place was just closer than mine-"

"And no longer accessible," Madara cuts in. "Goodnight." He tries to move them back so he can close the door, but Sasori interrupts the motion with a hand on the door. 

"I'll take the couch!" Sasori pushes back against the door. "Sakura, babe, we've-"

"Alright," Madara steps out the door instead, forcing Sasori to take a few steps back. "Why don't have a little talk?" He turns to a confused looking Sakura, gesturing for her to go inside. "I'll be right in, sweetheart. Don't worry." He doesn't wait for her to reply, closing the door before she can say anything. Sakura stands with her ear pressed to the wood for over a minute, but doesn't hear a thing. She goes back to the couch, trying to figure out if this was really okay, but Madara comes back in before she can come to an actual conclusion. 

"Well, he's a prick."

"I realize that now," she says, looking him over for any signs of damage. "Sorry, did he give you any trouble?"

"Nothing I couldn't handle. And you don't need to thank me either," he adds before she can even begin to come up with a way to express her gratitude. She also realizes that they're both alone once again, and despite how nice he seems, Madara is still a stranger. He looks a bit awkward, looking as if he doesn't know what to do with himself, or his hands which clench and unclench before he shoves them into the pockets of his jacket.

"Um, I should probably wait a few minutes before leaving...did Itachi say what time he'd be back?" 

"He said he's going to stay at his parents' tonight," Sakura tells him, wincing at his dismayed expression. "He hasn't given you a spare key?" 

"Shisui 'borrowed' it." 

"I'm so sorry." She thinks it's a little funny, but works to keep her face sympathetic; Shisui would be extremely amused by the current events.

"That's alright. I think I've intruded enough, so I should probably go."  

"Where do you live?" she asks, forehead wrinkled up at the thought of him having to make his way home in this weather. Sasori lives about ten minutes away–which is why she hadn’t been worried about him, she tells her guilty conscious. 

"...Senju apartments." 

"Fancy. Also on the other side of town," Sakura states flatly. "Did you drive here?"

"Ah."

"In a car?"

"...Bike."

"Right. Look," she begins, unable to actually believe she's doing this. "Just crash here tonight. I'll let Itachi know."

He looks taken aback at her suggestion, and shifts uncomfortably. "I wouldn't want to-"

"It's alright. I'm not comfortable with sending you off into the night," she reasons. "Plus, Itachi and Sasuke are practically family. That makes you...distant family. Sort of. Just-you're welcome to stay if you're comfortable with it."

Madara, who had begun to flush, looks extremely amused by the time she finishes. "Distant family."

"I said, sort of!" 

"Hah. Well," he rubs at the back of his head hesitantly. "I guess. You're really okay with it?"

"Really okay with it. One hundred per cent." She waits for him to take his shoes off before herding him towards the couch. "You sleepy?"

"Not really," he admits sheepishly, taking a seat, sitting a little too properly for this time of the night. 

"Great. You like Harry Potter?"

"Yeah."

"Wine?" 

"Yes," he laughs, accepting the clean glass she brings him.  

"Even better. It’s been ages since I had a sleepover. I'll bring more snacks."

The mildly awkward atmosphere dissolves quickly as they begin watching the movie, and Sakura's pleased to see her new companion loosen up and put his feet up on the coffee table. In an unexpected turn of events, she's found a new companion who's up for binge-watching the entire series, which is a little too ambitious for someone who has to work the next day. They open a new bottle as they express their mutual disappointment at the wasted potential of Tom Riddle, discuss their own Hogwarts house placements and the first time they read the books–before starting the third movie. 

Sakura groans as the light hits her face, turning it to bury her head further into her pillow. 

Her pillow, which seems unusually warm and smells like cedarwood. It's only when it shifts under her that her eyes fly open, and in her haste to spring back she tumbles off the bed. 

"Ow-" She rubs her backside in slight disgruntlement, glancing up at Madara only to see him yawning widely as he stretches like a contented cat; he smiles softly as he notices her staring. She can't quite get her brain to process what she's seeing–tan skin stretching over long, firm planes of muscle. His wild hair spills over her pillows and she's hit with a memory of nuzzling it, of knowing what it smells like. 

"Morning," he mumbles groggily, looking like he's ready to doze off again. 

'Ah, fuck.' 

"Morning," she replies in a tone a touch too shrill, jumping up when he just blinks at her. "We...uh..."

At her panicked expression, he seems to step out the doors of slumber completely, his cheeks reddening as he realizes she's struggling with their current state of undress. "Yeah. Uh, sorry?

"D-don't apologize," she says, trying to reassure him with a weak smile. "So! Breakfast?" 

"Sakura." He sits up, the sheets pooling at his waist and she looks away before she sees more than she can handle. The plain black sweatshirt that was snug on him falls to her thighs when she stands up, and she sees the way his eyes fall to the bare expanse of her legs before he forces them back to her face. "I-I'll take care of that. You okay with scrambled eggs? Tea? Coffee?"

"Um-yeah. Here I'll just..." She looks around the room, spotting his pants by the door. She can't help the way she tugs at the hem of his sweatshirt as she bends her knees, grabbing the jeans. "Here. And–coffee. What can I do to help?"

"You need to be at work by ten, right? You can go get ready, we've got time." It's 8:30 on the clock, but how does he know what time she needs to be at the hospital? Her baffled look must tip him off because he shakes his head in mock seriousness as he washes his hands. "You don't remember that conversation, huh?"

"I'm sure it'll come to me," she sighs. "Alright I'll...go shower." She misses his distracted nod in her haste to retreat to the bathroom, his eyes struggling to focus as she leaves him to his thoughts.

It all does, eventually, come back to her while she's in the shower. She’s grateful for the privacy because she’s convinced Madara would think her a lunatic if he saw her smiling so hard.

(flashback, nsfw content ahead)

"Madara?" she asks, lifting her head off his shoulder so she could look at him. They sit side by side, watching the credits scroll past as they contemplate moving. Sakura’s cuddled into his side, unable to muster the will to move away from his warmth.  

"Hm?"

"Have we met before?" The question has been on her mind since she first saw him earlier. He seems so familiar, but she’s unsure if it’s just because of his features, which do remind her of Itachi.

Her question is met with a slow blink as they both sit up a little straighter. "Could have. At birthday parties, maybe?" 

She purses her lips at the thought, trying to recall any interactions that might have taken place in the past. Madara watches her for a moment, as she chews on her bottom lip, before tapping her chin to interrupt the rough treatment of her mouth. She’s struck by the urge to flick her tongue against the pad of his thumb, and the thought has her squirming in embarrassment. He looks completely serious, while she’s over here thirsting. 

"Would you believe me if I said...I feel like I've been looking for you?" he asks hesitantly, flushing deeply when she looks amused. "Ugh, that sounds way cornier than it was intended to. I'm serious!" 

She sobers up at his firm tone, studying his features in the dim light of the lamp. She smooths his bangs away from his eyes, feeling slightly overwhelmed when he takes the hand tucking his hair behind his ear in his own, lacing his fingers with hers. 

"...I think I would," she whispers, mirroring his own tiny smile. "Then, would you believe me if I said I feel like I've been waiting for you?" She's only half-teasing. She feels at home, sitting next to him, arguing with him over fictional characters and concepts, watching him tap his feet to background music, eating cookies they're both shamelessly obsessed with. 

Her heart feels warm and full when he kisses the back of her hand.

"I think I would," he says, his smiling turning embarrassed and shy and so soft that she can't help but lean in and press her lips to it, her heart pounding madly when he melts into it, into her. He groans low when she climbs into his lap, tilting his head to deepen the meeting of their mouths. 

Desire drips into a pool at the bottom of her spine, where his hands splays and glides up to rest at the nape of her neck, tangling in messy, rosy strands. They kiss, and they kiss until her lips feel numb and her mind is muted for the first time in what feels like ages. 

The first grind of her hips against his feels electric and the helpless way he bucks his hips up is something she wants to see repeated. He clutches her to him, peppering hot kisses down the slender slope of her neck and she knows what she wants. "Be-bedroom."

He stills, tilting his head back until the tip of his nose brushes hers. His eyes are reminiscent of hot pools of obsidian, and she thinks she would be okay with drowning in them. "Are you sure?" 

"I want this." His mouth perks up even as he presses it to her jaw, winding her legs around his waist as he rises from the sofa with her holding on. Long fingers dig into the plump flesh of her rear, keeping her close and whimpering. 

"Wait. Are you sure?" 

His responding chuckle is edged with roughness, but not a straight enough answer. Once again, he manages to steal her breath before it can form words, sliding her lower against his body until she can feel him pressing into her, hard and straining. 

"Oh. Okay," she gasps, pushing back into it until he stumbles with a curse, pressing her back into her bedroom door as he kisses her deeply, sucking her bottom lip into his mouth.

"Keep that up and we'll never get to the bed," he groans, grinding into her urgently as she nibbles on the shell of his ear.

"That's fine, just-fuck." She loses her train of thought when his hands squeeze her ass warningly. 

"I'm not fucking you against a door," he says firmly, cutting her off with a quick kiss when she tries to protest. "Not the first time." 

And so he fumbles with the door handle as his teeth dig into her skin, stumbling in blindly. He tosses her on the bed, reaching for the collar of his sweatshirt and sliding it off swiftly. Her mouth waters at this unveiling of his chiselled form, torn between reaching out to run her greedy fingers over it and reaching for her own clothes. He makes the decision for her by sliding his fingers underneath the hem of her shirt, tugging it up and over her head. Warmth flushes down from her cheeks to her chest when she realizes she had forgone a bra earlier, leaving the upper half of her body exposed to his burning gaze. 

The moment his chest presses into hers, warm desire spreads down to the tips of her toes. It sinks into her bones as he kisses her temple, her cheeks, her lips. He carves a fervent path down her neck, teeth and tongue leaving hints of their efforts behind in blooming marks. The first curl of his tongue around a taut nipple has her gasping loudly, her fingers tangling in his hair as he splits his attention between her breasts. 

His journey around her body continues with kisses down the soft planes of her abdomen until he reaches her waistline. Her heart pounds madly as she lifts her hips, allowing him to tug her pyjamas down her legs, followed by her underwear. It leaves her squirming beneath his gaze until he bends over her to press his lips to hers. 

"You're so beautiful, darling," he groans, his hands gliding down her waist and back up. "Can I taste you?" He waits for her slow nod, smiling as he climbs back down, spreading her legs until he's found himself a spot between them. Sakura, who waits breathlessly for that first contact, nearly yelps when she feels his teeth sink into the tender flesh of her inner thigh instead. He soothes the spot with his tongue, and just as she settles down with the comforting motion she feels a languid lick along her slick sex that steals any capacity for thought still present in her head. 

Lifting up on her elbows proves to be disastrous for her heart: he locks eyes with her as he licks fervidly into her, his eyes crinkling and lips twisting wickedly. 

Sakura thinks she might have invited the devil into her bed. 

He doesn't let her move until she's dripping with her desire, pushed to the brink of madness and digging her heels into his shoulders. He's unfazed by her pleading, coaxing and tonguing but never letting her tip over. 

"Madara, Mad-fuck, please, please," she whimpers, one hand clenched around her sheets and the other smacking into the headboard. 

"You need to tell me what you want, babygirl," he laughs, drawing slow, torturous circles around her clit. 

"Fuck me, fuck me, please." She's practically begging but she needs this. She thinks she might actually wither away if he doesn't let her come. She feels him move, blinking her tears away so she can watch him slide his pants off and reach for his wallet. She's never felt more focused as she watches him tug the boxer-briefs down, freeing his straining erection and leaving her swallowing with one motion. 

Sitting up, she reaches for him as he tears the foil square open carefully, but he stops her with a hand curling around her wrist. He brings her hand up to this mouth, kissing the back of it and urging her back down. "Later." 

Any arguments she might have had are ripped away when she feels him at her entrance, rubbing the tip of his head against her slickness. When he pushes through her slit, tearing a moan from the depths of her throat, he kisses the corner of her mouth softly. She's convinced no one has ever felt this good, and no one ever will.

He's watching her, she realizes belatedly. She reaches up to cup his cheek, smiling faintly as he kisses her palm quickly, as he waits for her to adjust around him. 

"Is this okay?" he asks, dropping his forehead to hers, his muscles straining as he keeps himself from moving. She pulls him close, leaving open-mouthed kisses over his tense shoulders. 

"It's perfect." She pushes up, her walls squeezing tight and a startled groan escapes him before he pulls back and snaps his hips into hers��over and over again, aimed to tear her apart and make his mark in the very depths of her until she's shattering to pieces around him and trembling in his arms. He whispers softly, incoherently as he thrusts frantically, and she kisses him through his unravelling. 

She curls into a ball, after, nearly vibrating her contentment when she feels his fingers in her hair, rubbing at her scalp. Madara proves himself to be a cuddler when he moulds himself to her back, burying his face in her hair and inhaling deeply. "Okay, I have a confession." 

She turns around in his arms, raising a brow at his conflicted expression. 

"I...have seen you before." 

"Oh?" she lifts up onto an elbow, watching him struggle with his words. She's filled with curiosity because she's certain she'd never seen Madara before today. He’s not someone she would forget.  

"Yeah. It was at your graduation party a few years back. The one you all had at Fugaku’s place," he tells her, his eyes unfocused as he thinks back to the time. "We didn't actually meet, but that was... I thought you were beautiful even then."

It’s strange to hear him address the older man so casually when he’s closer in age to her than Fugaku, but then they are cousins. 

"Oh." She rests her head in her palm. "Let me guess–and you've been smitten ever since?" She shouldn't tease when he's being so serious, but she's come to really enjoy his blushing responses–a reaction she doesn't get this time. Instead, he meets her eyes steadily, if a bit solemnly. 

"Yeah, pretty much."

"Madara!" She laughs, pinching his cheek, prompting him to smile as well. 

“You don’t believe me.” He sighs, pressing his lips to her forehead.

"Mhm. I'm glad you got the wrong door," she whispers, feeling him smile against her skin. 

"Me too." She sighs and presses her face to his chest, snuggling closer when he winds his arms around her. They’re quiet for a while, and just before she slips into sleep, he speaks up.

"Sakura?" 

"Hm?

"Meeting you like this...being so close to you," he shifts slightly, pressing his lips to her hair. "Right now, I almost feel like...you belong to me." His admission is said so lowly that she nearly misses it. "And I belong to you. Is that strange?"

She smiles drowsily, tilting her head back to kiss him, soft and slow. "No, I think it's lovely." 

"I think you're lovely." She can’t keep her eyes open, drifting into the dark with warmth all around her. “And...I don’t think I want to let you go.”

“...Then don’t.” 

For the first time in a long time, she's smiling as she falls asleep. 

Sakura's still smiling as she steps out of the shower. Wiping her hand over the fogged up mirror, she squints at her reflection. She looks bright, despite a terrible headache, and she feels warm–on the inside and out; her skins nearly burns when she spots the marks over her collarbone and thighs.

Waking up to soft greetings, offers of breakfast and a very pleasant ache between her thighs–it's something new, but it's nice. Madara is nice. 

'And I'm fucked. Literally and figuratively' 

But is she? She may have started him by kissing him, but he more than reciprocated. She's never felt more loved, and that includes actual relationships. Then there were the mind-melting things he said. A bit intense, but they were both more than a little dazed in the aftermath.

She’s a little worried about starting something this soon after ending things with Sasori, but– and she may be speaking too soon, but she never felt this way with Sasori. The redhead had started their relationship, dictated most of it, and she had been okay with it, accepting that she’s not the sort to take charge when it comes to this stuff. 

But with Madara? She feels the sparks of excitement. She wants. So many things. So badly. She should, however, take it slow. A little too late, but she should still try. The man might be more than a little alarmed if he finds out just how into him she already is. 

Her stomach growls loudly as she follows the smell of frying bacon to the kitchen. And there he is, the man in question, arranging food on two plates, her coffee ready on the side. His hair is pulled back into a low ponytail, his pants tight around his waist–and backside–and Sakura nearly swoons at the sight of him.

“Are you real?” she asks, completely serious. 

“Real enough to have burnt the toast a little,” he answers with a sheepish grin. She hands him his sweatshirt apologetically, but he's unfazed as he pulls it on easily. 

She wonders if this is all very normal for him, and the thought stings a little.  

“I like it burnt.” She shrugs and pauses as she reaches the counter. She turns around to see him watching her; with a quick prayer to whoever’s listening and a hand on his shoulder, she rises up on the tips of her toes to plant a quick kiss on his cheek. “Thank you.” 

His fingers curl around her wrist before she can step out of his space, his eyes searching her face before he pulls her close. She should be alarmed by how natural it feels to have his arms around her and his lips coaxing her mouth open. In the light of the morning, he kisses her softly; once more, she’s filled with a yearning that makes her ache. 

In what’s quickly turning into an irritating pattern, her phone rings. A quick glance at the screen assuages her annoyance, but she still has to take a deep breath before answering. 

“Morning, Itachi. Happy Christmas!” 

“Happy Christmas. I just saw your text. Is Madara still there?” 

“Uh, yeah, he is.” 

“Alright. I’m nearly on our floor. See you in a minute.” 

“Wait-“

But he’s hung up already, and she turns to see Madara sipping at what looks like green tea, failing to hide his disappointment.

“I heard.” 

“Yeah,” she sighs, moving towards the entrance, then doubling back and pulling Madara into a quick, hard kiss that leaves him slack-jawed. “Sorry.” 

“Please don’t be,” he murmurs hoarsely, making grabby hands at her as she skips away. Beaming, she opens the door to Itachi’s suspicious eyes and boxes of what she’s sure are his mother’s cooking. 

“Yes, this is for you,” Itachi says before she can ask, moving past her to peer into her apartment. “Ah. There you are.” 

“Morning.” 

“Good morning,” Itachi looks from his uncle to Sakura, as if expecting more. “I’m going to go ahead get it out of the way–did you guys...?” 

“Yes.” 

“N-What!” Sakura squeaks, glaring at Madara when she spots the grin he tries to hide behind his cup. 

“Right. Okay. Well, I’m gonna go get some more sleep. Sakura, have a nice day at work. Madara, let's go. Bring the plate, I’ll return it later.” Itachi doesn’t seem to be asking, and Madara, to her surprise, does as the other man says. They stare at each other for a few seconds, before Itachi raises a brow and turns to leave. A tiny smirk curls along his mouth, and she knows she can expect a call from Shisui within the hour.

The second he’s out Madara’s arms around her and his lips are on hers.

“Have dinner with me,” he asks as soon as he pulls away, his eyes wide with hope. 

“Tonight?” she says, her answer clear when she kisses him again. Madara grins down at her, pulling her in for a hug that leaves her gasping for breath as she laughs.

“I’ll pick you up.”

Bonus: 

“He made you breakfast?” Shisui asks over the phone, for the third time. 

“Yes, Shisui. Honestly, it’s not like he gave me a manicure! Why are you so surprised?” Sakura glances around to ensure there aren't any eavesdroppers as she exits the elevator in the hospital. Ino has the evening shift, so she didn't get a chance to talk to her. She's not sure what she would even say. Her entire day had been a struggle with focus, but she had managed to keep the Madara-related thoughts at bay until the end of her shift.

And then she called the one person who could give her some insight.

“Because! Madara does not make people breakfast. In the rare occasions that he does spend time with them, he exits those occasions as quickly as humanly possible.”

“So he’s...” 

“Not a dick! Not exactly. He’s just had a hard time getting emotionally involved with partners. You’re sure it was him? Not Izuna?” 

“Yes, Shisui, of course, I’m sure!” 

“Okay, okay. Hm. I think...he might like you?” 

“Yeah?” she can't help but smile as she opens the door to her car, flinging her bag inside. 

“Yeah. Weird.” 

“Why is it weird?” 

“You’re going to be Itachi and Sasuke’s aunt-“ 

“Uchiha Shisui! Don’t even put that crap in my head.” It's way too early to even go there.

“Fine, I won’t. But what will you do about the crap in his head?” 

“I’m sure there’s nothing like that! At least, I won’t know until I talk to him. Which won’t be possible until dinner tonight. I also need his number. Which is why I called you.” 

“Ah, right. You were so preoccupied with his mouth that you forgot to even ask for his number?”

Sakura makes a silent vow to punch him the next time she sees him.

 “...I’ll text it to you. Are we telling Itachi you're planning on asking his uncle out?” 

“...not yet.” She's not sure how her friend would react. Itachi has always been a supportive presence in her life, but he didn't actually say anything this morning.  

“It's not like he'll be surprised!” 

“Probably. But let me talk to Madara first!” She gets inside and closes the door, leaning back and closing her eyes tiredly. 

“Fine, fine. If he’s an ass to you, let me know. I’ll...tell Izuna.” 

“I’m hurt. You won’t even kick his ass yourself?” she teases. 

“Not when I know I won’t escape with my limbs unbroken. Your new flame is a scary dude, you know.” 

“Please. Are you forgetting I’ve met the guy? He’s one of the nicest men I’ve ever met.”

“...Madara...nicest...Is-is this what they call a Christmas Miracle?” 

[sapphicconservative]

Why are you an Xbox fan OOC?

Hmm... The OOC usage confused me here? Am I perceived as a character...? I don't know how to assure you all that the person I am online is me beyond my word, I'm afraid.

But, I prefer the Xbox as it's seemingly well made when compared to the PlayStation. I've had both PS4 and Xbox One. Between the two, the One is definitely better.

For starters, when you play a Bethesda Game Studios game, it won't eventually break as is a common issue among this system. Many of my PS3 and PS4 friends admitted their copies broke after a certain level was reached. If you play Fallout 4 or Skyrim, then you know certain events in the game cannot be achieved until you reach certain levels. Such as fighting the ebony warrior in Skyrim or a super mutant warlord in Fallout 4. Plus, it limits the amount you can do and experience in the game before the glitches kick in.

Next is the built of the PS4. There were far too many times for me to count where I had my system's plug just... Fall out mid game. About to beat Sunset Vista in Crash Bandicoot? What a lovely time for that cord to fall out :')

Lastly, the PS4 controllers are a lot more awkward in my hands. The Xbox controllers have always felt perfect for my hands, which made it more relaxing to play games. There's nothing relaxing about holding a controller awkwardly in your hands.

But, the PS4 is far better than a Nintendo console. Only the OG Nintendo consoles are good, but even the awkward controllers make it hard to enjoy for long.

[rosettevaleria]

Target Practice

OOC: TW for abuse below the cut. Alistair got angry. Furthering some shadow/personal plot that’s rolling out gradually. Don’t read if it bothers you -- be well, friends. <3

Her calves burned as she ran headlong down the stone pathway in the Goblet, eyes trained on the rooftop of her childhood home as she picked up her pace and her lungs gulped in air. Panic made her forget how to breathe whilst running, fear caused the sweat that trickled down her back and face to be cold even while she sprinted through the blistering midday heat. Her hat was forgotten at home, some strands of her ebony hair clinging to her face and neck while the majority of it flew about her with her hurried pace.

She had barely let the messenger finish his summons when she bolted out the door when word was delivered of her younger sister being attacked in the street. Her mind reeled as she picked up her pace, unable to comprehend why anyone would want to hurt the sweet-tempered novice Conjurer. Myrriah was incapable of harming anything, person or bug, and she would go out of her way to help anyone in need. Why hadn’t she had one of the Valeria retainers escorting her?

Rosette had little time to further contemplate such things as she reached the door of her mother’s household, opening it with a quick twist and she stumbled inside. She panted harshly as she slammed the door behind her, calling out breathlessly in the foyer. “Mother!?” She pushed a hand through her hair, brushing the strands back as she started for the stairs. “Myrriah!?”

The sound of a door closing and footsteps against the marble floor could be heard, Alistair appearing around the corner as she was halfway up the stairs and she continued upward. “Alistair,” She reached the top of the stairs, starting toward him. “What happened? Where is she?”

It was only when he said nothing that she paused, taking in his countenance. She inhaled sharply and her mouth opened, barely having enough time to brace herself as her brother reached her. His hands grasped her shoulders, fingers biting into her skin, and he spun Rose to slam her against the wall. The breath was knocked from her already winded lungs, her head smacking against the wallpapered covered plaster and her vision swam briefly. She couldn’t tell if it was from hitting her head or a lack of air in her lungs.

Above the ringing in her ears, she could hear Alistair all but snarling at her. “You little bitch,” He pulled her back and slammed her against the wall again, causing her to cough. “This is your fault!”

Rose grimaced harshly, wheezing as she looked up at her enraged brother. His face was flushed red, his jaw tight, and his pupils were mere pinpoints in the teal irises that mirrored her own. “Wh-What?” She looked up at him, eyes wide and then some of her own anger started to rise. 

She pushed him off of her, leaning back against the wall and holding her right shoulder where he had been gripping her. “How the hell is it my fault!?”

Alistair ran his hands through his hair, looking as if he was about to rip it from his scalp as he began pacing the floor in front of her. “She was targeted,” He snarled, seeming to attempt to reign in his temper. “Myrriah doesn’t remember much before they knocked her unconscious, but they were asking her about you. About your whereabouts!”

Rosette felt her blood run cold, shock ripping into her as she leaned back against the wall for support. Her shoulders and back protested, but the adrenaline that spiked through her system dulled it as she regarded the patriarch of their family. He continued to pace like a caged tiger, his nostrils flaring in his attempt to regain control. His rage was damn near murderous and Rose knew she was the target.

“What, exactly, did they say?” She asked softly, finally regaining her breath and wariness crept into her. She knew that she would have to mind her words carefully, lest he turn to beat on her again. The skin prickled at the back of her neck, as it was wont to do with major aether fluctuations -- Alistair was hair-triggered.

“She cannot recall completely!” He snapped at her, causing her to shrink back against the wall. “Damn you, Rosette, I told you to handle your shit. If you hadn’t defied me, then none of this would be an issue!”

“I separated from House Valeria Imports because of what happened with Amarelle and your bullshit about endangering the family--” 

The back of his hand cracked across her face and her head jerked to the side. She remained still for several heartbeats, tasting blood in her mouth and her tongue probed the split on her lower lip where his signet ring had caught her. His words swiftly followed the strike, “And yet, your name will always be linked to the family.” He hissed softly.

He pinched her chin between his thumb and forefinger, jerking her face around so that he could meet her gaze. “You may be out and about with that fucking mockery of an airship crew, as well as attempting to prosper on your own. Do remember, little sister, that our family will always be targets because of your fuck ups.” He grasped her shoulder with his free hand, shaking her to emphasize his words. “Whomever you cross will know exactly where to look for weaknesses. They will know how to lay you low even when you operate separately from our family’s business. That’s what Father and I struggled to protect you from for years!”

Alistair let go of her chin and slammed his fist into the wall next to her head, causing Rose to jump and cringe away, her eyes closing tightly. She heard some of the plaster fall from where he had slammed his fist into the wall and felt his aether retreat. She finally felt him move away, tremors starting to over take her and her knees weakened, giving way and causing her to slide down the wall to land in an undignified heap.

When she finally opened her eyes to look up at him, he was regarding her coldly and a sneer twisted his visage. “Yet you spit in the face of all of our hard work. You continually defied him and still defy me.” He shook his head and turned from her, starting a few paces down the hall. His shoulders lifted as he inhaled deeply, then slowly exhaled and he squared them. His voice was cool and clam when he spoke next, “When Myrriah is well, I’m sending her to Gridania and into the Conjurer’s Guild custody. You will sever all contact with her; do not attempt to communicate with her or I will be informed. Should you make any attempts...”

Alistair looked over his shoulder at Rosette as he let the threat hang in the air, finding her staring at the floor and wiping blood from her lip. “Am I clear, Rosette?”

She cleared her throat and rasped, “As a bell.”

“Good,” The eldest Valeria offspring turned away. “You know where the door is. You may see yourself out.” He started to walk down the hall once more to return from whence he came.

“Can I...at least see her before I go?” She asked softly, a slightly desperate note to her voice. She looked toward Alistair’s back as he stopped.

“The healer sedated her and she will likely sleep through the night. He thought it best in light of her trauma. I will not have her disturbed.” He looked over his shoulder to regard her coldly. “Get out, Rosette.” He disappeared around the corner.

She got to her feet slowly, shakily making her way down the stairs and out the front door. Rosette made it halfway home before she ducked into one of the many small sitting areas stationed throughout the residential district of the Goblet. Tears obscured her vision as she sank down on a stone bench, her head falling into her palms, and she choked back the sobs that threatened to break free.