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lovingache · 15 days

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“𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲”

𝐭. 𝐤𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐲𝐚𝐦𝐚 𝐱 𝐠𝐧!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 summary: “𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐦𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲” | or the first time kageyama calls you “baby” is entirely by accident. warnings: aged up!haikyu!! (karasuno is a university) | no y/n, gn!reader, fluff, just some general cuteness tbh— I love kageyama, he deserves happiness word count: 1.2k a/n: yes, this is based on “first time” by hozier, i heard it and immediately thought of tobio because this is exactly how that man would react to being called a sweet pet name.

The first time that you called Tobio “baby,” he locked up as if you had insulted him. His hand, which you were used to seeing hitting effortless jump serves, setting quicks to Hinata, and generally being the dependable watchtower of Karasuno’s volleyball team, froze on your waist as if he had forgotten how to move his body.

His severe and intense gaze locked on yours as if he were attempting to solve a puzzle—as if he couldn’t believe that you had called him something so sweet and intimate. He gave you a curt nod as he dropped you off at your place, his hand lingering on your waist as he bid you goodnight and your name coming out softer than he intended.

He’d never admit it to anyone, but that night, he felt something stir deep inside his chest, unlike anything he’d ever felt. It wasn’t the same adrenaline he got from playing against hard teams, nor was it the same joy he felt when Karasuno proved victorious over other teams after hard-fought matches.

No, this, you, was different— something simultaneously died and was reborn inside of him when you called him “baby” that night, unlocking an emotion he never entirely understood when he heard others talk about it, but, in your presence, he understood it as if it were a practiced play.

You never pushed him to say it back, satisfied with relishing each time he said your name softly between sweet kisses or tender hugs. You weren’t here to change him. After all, you fell in love with Tobio because of how he is, not out of an aspiration to change him into anyone else. He just didn’t like to use pet names with you, you assumed, and didn’t push him for anything he wasn’t happy to give you.

So it’s safe to say that you didn’t see today coming. At first, you weren’t even really sure what he’d said. Tobio has a habit of mumbling, especially when coming down from the high of a hard match, so you could only make out bits and pieces of his greeting. You were too busy savouring how he held you as you jumped into his arms, congratulating him for a great match and winning against Karasuno’s opponent.

He gave you a tender smile, a rare sight for other people but a mainstay in your relationship, before giving you a soft kiss as he set you down gently. He had murmured your name, that’s for sure, but you couldn’t quite make it all out until you saw the look on the team’s face. Hinata’s and Tanaka’s faces, in particular, urged you to ask him as you gave Tobio a quizzical look.

“Sorry, what did you say, honey? I didn’t quite catch it,” You say, cocking your head softly to the side as his brows knit together, and a blush paints his cheeks at the name you called him.

“I.. didn’t say anything, I just said thank you—” he starts to say, his hand still resting easily on your waist, before he’s interrupted by Tanaka and Hinata running over to hug him, cooing about their friend’s heart finally growing three sizes.

“Wrong!” Tanaka yells as he hugs Tobio, circling his neck with one arm and patting his head with his other hand. “You totally just said ‘baby’! Who knew you had that sweetness inside you, Kageyama!” He teases as Hinata joins in.

“Yeah! You even said it all nice and stuff!” he adds, laughing with his senior as they mimic Tobio’s voice and cadence. “You were all like, ‘Hi, baby! Thanks so much, baby. I’m so happy you were here to watch! Mwah, mwah!!’” Both burst into laughter as they watched Tobio’s glare, waving off his muttered threat of a gruelling time next practice for them as they strode away.

The rest of the team lays off teasing him as they start walking to the locker room, but only after his seniors get their digs in. Azumane and Sugawara give him broad smiles with their thumbs up as they pass the two of you, and Tobio’s blush deepens.

“S-Sorry about them,” he says sheepishly, touching the back of his neck. "I guess it slipped out, and I’m sorry if that made you uncomfortable.” He apologizes genuinely as he looks into your eyes, hoping that his team didn’t scare you off.

You chuckle, circling your arms around his neck as you bring him down for a long kiss. “Don’t worry about it, baby,” you say, relishing the way he softens under the name, his features relaxing as he smiles against you. “You can pay me back by saying it to me so that I actually hear you this time,” you whisper, teasing him but also wanting to hear it clearly so you can store it in your memory.

He leans in close, the two of you the final people on the court as his team filters out completely, and he presses a tender kiss against your forehead. He chuckles softly at your request, an attempt to wave you off, but the glint in his eye tells you that he’s about to indulge you anyway, “Alright, alright.”

He gives you a slow, deep kiss, savouring the heat of your lips against his— a sensation he swears he will never get used to. It always sends that electric jolt throughout his body better than any perfect set or victory. He pulls back, soothing your hair and smiling, “Thank you for coming today, baby. I think I play better when I know you’re watching me.”

He presses a chaste kiss against your lips, “You’re like.. a guardian angel, baby. Did you know that? Maybe I should start calling you angel instead, hm?” He says against you, and his sudden shift in demeanour causes you to shiver.

You nod, running your hand through the hair on the nape of his neck. “I think that’d be great, baby,” You whisper, a blush painting your cheeks as the thought of him calling you “angel” crosses your mind.

“Is that so? Alright, ang—”

He’s cut short by Daichi’s voice ringing clearly in the empty gym as he opens the metal gym door, searching for Tobio. “Kageyama! Meeting!” He yells out from across the gym.

Tobio sighs, pulling away from you only slightly as he nods to his captain. “Okay, I’ll be there in a minute!”

“Now, Kageyama, we already waited five minutes for you. Let’s go!” Daichi calls, the heavy slam of the doors signalling his impatience.

Tobio leans in close, “Another time, baby.” He kisses your forehead as he starts to walk towards their locker room.

The door swings open again. “Kageyama, c’mon! Or do you want me to call you baby, too?” Daichi teases as he waits for Tobio at the door, watching him run up to his captain, apologizing half-heartedly for his tardiness.

You laugh as he teases him, knowing that Tobio’s doing his best not to glare at Daichi. You laugh even harder when you hear their bickering.

“None of you are allowed to call me baby! That’s special, and I’m not about to let you dumbasses ruin that name for me!”

“Alright, we’ll call you King again, how’s that sound?”

You shake your head as you gather your things, knowing that this teasing from the team is far from over as you make your way to wait outside their locker room— giddy at the idea of hearing him call you baby again.

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illusioninfnty · 6 months

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day 16 ; toys

↠ nami x reader

fandom: one piece word count: 1.1k warnings: nsfw 18+, fem!reader, sub!reader, nipple clamps, vibrator, fingering

kinktober m.list || read on ao3

You never expected to join up with the Straw Hat Pirates, but after some thorough convincing from Luffy, you didn’t hesitate to accept his offer. It was all worth it though, because it led you to meeting your girlfriend, Nami.

Speaking of your girlfriend, you were eagerly awaiting her arrival back on the Going Merry, as she told you she was going to get you a surprise as a departure from the island you were on.

“And what are you doing over here?” Usopp approaches you from where you stand, looking for Nami by the village’s entrance.

You sigh, knowing what he was going to start doing. Usopp was always teasing you about how much you were head over heels for Nami.

“Yes?” You ask, unamused.

A smirk crosses Usopp’s face. “Oh, nothing,” he starts in a singsong tone. “Just wondering what’s so important for you to be waiting over here so eagerly.” He mimics you in a high pitched voice. “Oh, no, wherever has my dear Nami gone? I can’t do anything without her!”

“Hey!” You smack his shoulder. “I do not sound like that.”

“It’s exactly what I hear from you.” Zoro opens an eye, clearly only pretending to sleep to hear you get ragged on.

“Leave her alone you brute!” Sanji yells from behind the bar. “A lady should never be teased for her romantic affections!”

While Sanji was well-intended, his comment made you blush even more. Although the whole crew knew you and Nami were together, you were a naturally reserved person and having all of your personal business out there like that was quite embarrassing.

Zoro rolls his eyes and goes back to “sleeping.”

“Don’t worry! Nami will be back soon!” Your captain was oblivious as ever to the teasing of your crewmates.

You give him a small smile, ignoring the snickering from Usopp behind you. “Thanks, Luffy.”

You finally catch a glimpse of your girlfriend’s bright hair, and her satchel is clearly more stuffed than when she got off the ship. You weren’t going to question what methods she used to get them.

“Nami!” You run up to her and hug her, burying your face in her neck. She laughs and pulls you back into the ship. “I still can’t believe you wouldn’t let me come along with you.” You pouted as she just laughed and squeezed your cheek. “You left me alone with these bozos.”

You hear a faint hey! come from Usopp before Nami shuts the door to your room.

“Well, I had a surprise that I wanted to get for you.” Nami begins to remove her satchel. “Something I want us to try right now.”

She begins to remove the new items from her satchel. All of them are unfamiliar to you, varying in different shapes, sizes, and colors. You pick up a chain with what looks like two clothespins attached to each hand.

“This—” she moves her hand under your shirt, caressing your breasts. “Attaches to these.” Her fingertips ghost your nipples, now hard and pressing against the fabric of your top.

“Oh.” Your heart flutters widely in your chest. Nami and you have done some exploring in the past, but all of it has been simple and sweet, with no use from toys like the ones she had scattered across her bed.

Nami tugs at the bottom of your shirt, and you lift up your arms, allowing her to take it off you with ease. It causes your breasts to spill out and Nami throws your shirt aside to palm them as she lowers to kiss you.

You close your eyes and lean your body into the kiss, relishing in the softness of your girlfriend’s lips on yours. Suddenly cool metal meets your nipples. You jolt from the shock of the temperature change and the unexpected pressure put on them. When you look down, you see that Nami has attached each side of the clamps to your chest. You couldn’t really describe the feeling that they gave you

“That feels,” you start as Nami moves you to lay on the bed, “really good.” She places you on your back, crawling on top of you. You see her reach for something else, what looks like a long, thick wand.

She notices your curious stare. “It’s called a vibrator,” she answers your unspoken question. “I’m sure you can figure out what it does.” She clicks a button at the base and the object starts vibrating, a low buzzing sound coming from it.

Nami tugs on the clamps gently, causing you to arch your back into her and gasp. “I don’t like how I’m the only one without a shirt on,” you tease. She laughs and uses her free hand to tug off her tank top. She lowers herself to kiss you again, her breasts providing a warmth the clamps don’t give you.

Nami begins to trail kisses down your jaw, to your neck, and eventually your chest. She bites hard around your breasts, sure to leave hickeys behind. You moan from the pleasure, until she moves down to your nipples.

“Oh, fuck!” The harsher tug as she grabs onto them has your lower half throbbing even more, the heat and wetness becoming more noticeable.

Nami moves her hand down your shorts and underwear, playing with your wet folds. “You ready?”

You reply with an enthusiastic nod.

She pulls down your undergarments, leaving you fully nude. She takes the vibrator in her hand and places it right on your clit. The pleasure draws out a long string of whines from you.

Nami grins. “You like it?” She applies more pressure and you gasp from the action.

“Yes, yes, please,” you beg, bucking your hips closer to her. “Need it,” you moan. Your arms flail looking for stability. You manage to grasp onto Nami’s arm, the one currently not teasing you. “Nami!” You moan out. Your body writhes in need, a wanton moan leaving your lips.

“Aww.” Nami coos, but you can hear the smile in her voice. “Poor baby, can’t handle it?”

“S-shut up,” you manage to moan out.

She laughs and begins to tease you with her fingers. The vibrations from the toy and Nami’s fingers curling in you, hitting spots that make you see stars, is more than you can stand. It doesn’t take you long to reach your end.

Nami brings her fingers, glistening with your release, up to mouth and licks them clean. As you pant heavily, feeling the aftereffects of your orgasm, she kisses your cheek.

“Did so well for me.” You can’t help the heat that rises to your face.

“But we're not done just yet.” Nami bares her teeth in a playful smile. “There’s still more toys we need to get through.”

You quiver in anticipation for what’s to come.

#kinktober #kinktober 2023 #one piece #one piece x reader #nami x reader #one piece smut #opla x reader #opla nami x reader #opla nami #one piece live action #one piece live action x reader

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pucksandpower · 8 months

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Gilded Cage

Charles Leclerc x heiress!Reader

Summary: when a girl who craves for freedom meets a boy who knows what it feels like to race at the speed of light

Warnings: overprotective (but loving) father

The first time you tried to escape, you were seven.

“Y/N, let go of the bird!” The nanny’s frantic voice echoed as your small fingers clutched the delicate cage, trying to unlatch it.

“I just want to see it fly!” You cried, tears streaming down your face, looking at the trapped canary. Its golden feathers seemed dulled, its tiny beak opened in a silent plea for freedom.

The cage slipped from your grasp, crashing onto the pristine marble floors. The sound was deafening in the otherwise quiet mansion. Your nanny rushed forward but not before the canary took off, its wings catching the sun, radiating a blinding brightness.

You watched, mesmerized, as the bird soared above, circling once before disappearing into the vast blue sky.

“It’s gone …” your nanny muttered, distraught at the loss of such a valuable creature.

But you, young and innocent, whispered with a smile of pure joy, “It’s free.”

From that day on, you knew one thing for certain: no amount of gold or jewels could substitute for the glitter of freedom.

***

“Again!”

The shout echoes through the cavernous halls of your palatial home. Somewhere outside, the splashing of the water from the elaborate marble fountain merges with the faint humming of gardeners trimming the intricate mazes. The walls, lined with gold-trimmed tapestries and priceless paintings, feel more like prison bars than luxuries.

"Again!"

Your fingers, stiff and aching, try to mimic the piano instructor’s exact movements. Every wrong note feels like a physical blow, another reminder that you are trapped in a world of perfection and expectations.

“I don’t want to play anymore,” you whisper but it came out stronger, more defiant than you intended.

Madame Lucille, your instructor, raises an eyebrow, unaccustomed to your resistance. “Your father wishes you to be well-versed in the classics,” she reminds you with a patronizing tone.

A voice, deep and commanding, interrupts the tension, “Let her be, Lucille.”

Your father stands at the doorway, his expensive suit impeccably tailored, matching the stern look on his face.

“But Sir, she—”

“I said, let her be.”

Madame Lucille gives you one last disapproving glare before hurriedly packing her things. Your father watches her go then turnes to you with softer eyes. “I just want the best for you,” he murmurs, walking over to sit beside you on the grand piano bench.

You take a deep breath, “I know, Papa. But I want to breathe, to live. Not just exist inside these walls.”

He sighs, looking tired. “The world out there isn’t a nice one. There are those who would want to harm you, to use you.”

“I would risk it,” you admit quietly, “For a taste of real life. For a moment outside this golden cage.”

He takes your hand, his grip firm but gentle. “You’re my everything. I can’t bear the thought of losing you.”

The weight of his love and the prison of his protection bears down on you. “One day, whether you like it or not, I’ll have to face the world. And when that day comes, I want to be ready.”

He leans back, looking up at the ornate chandelier. “What if that day was sooner than you thought?”

Confusion marrs your features. “What do you mean?”

He smiles cryptically, “There’s a Formula 1 race across the country next week. I sponsor Ferrari. Thought you might like to come with me, see something different for a change.”

You blink, taking a moment to process. “A ... race?”

He nods, “Yes. It’s not freedom but it’s a start.”

You look into his eyes, seeing a glimmer of understanding. “Okay,” you whisper, “Let’s start there.”

***

“The roar of the engines, the energy of the crowd ... there’s quite nothing like it,” your father begins, his usually stern voice tinted with boyish enthusiasm. You find yourself watching him, intrigued by this rare display of passion.

Sitting across the opulent dining table, which was rarely used to host anyone but the two of you, you play with your food, pushing it around the plate. “Cars going in circles? I don’t see the appeal.”

He chuckles, taking a sip of his vintage wine. “Oh, it’s much more than that. The strategy, the risk, the sheer speed ... it’s ballet at 300 kilometers per hour.”

You raise an eyebrow, interest piqued despite yourself. “Ballet? Really?”

He nods with a smirk. “Don’t tell me you’re not curious now?”

You hesitate. “I mean, maybe a little? But why the sudden interest in taking me? I’ve never even seen you watch a race.”

He leans forward, his gaze intense, searching yours. “I sponsor Ferrari and have an open invite to every race. Now that one will be hosted nearby, I thought maybe it’s time you see a bit more of the world. Not just through the glass windows.”

You blink in surprise. This was unexpected. “A public event? With crowds and other people?”

He nods slowly. “With crowds and other people.”

You weigh the options in your mind, the yearning for freedom battling with the anxiety of exposure. “And you think I’m ready for this?”

He reaches across the table, his fingers brushing yours. “I think we’re ready for this. It will be an unforgettable experience, I promise.”

You look into his eyes and realize that this is as much a leap for him as it is for you. Taking a deep breath, you reply, “Alright, Papa. Let’s go watch some ballet.”

***

“The red ... it’s everywhere.” You can’t help but blurt out, momentarily overwhelmed.

Your father chuckles beside you. “Well, it is Ferrari. Red is their signature.”

You gaze down, the red soles of your Louboutins now seem almost camouflaged against the vibrant Ferrari decor. “Feels like I’m stepping into another world.”

“Just stay close,” your father advises, his protective instincts rearing up again.

Promising him with a nod, you’re soon lost in the kaleidoscope of sounds and colors. The hustle of engineers, the chatter of excited fans, the roar of engines being worked on.

Suddenly, a man clad in a racing suit accidentally bumps into you, causing your drink to splatter.

“Mon dieu! I am so sorry!” He exclaims, eyes wide.

You find yourself staring not at the stained dress but into the most expressive eyes you’ve ever seen. “It’s ... it’s okay,” you stutter, taken aback by the unexpected jolt of electricity at the brief contact.

He looks genuinely apologetic. “Let me make it up to you? Another drink, perhaps?”

You laugh, “Only if you promise not to spill it.”

He grins, the smile reaching his eyes. “Deal. I’m Charles, by the way.”

Hesitating for a split second, you reply, “Y/N.”

He raises an eyebrow, “No last name?”

You smirk, “Not today.”

Charles chuckles, intrigued. “Alright, Y/N-with-no-last-name, let’s get you that drink.”

You follow him, weaving through the crowd. Every now and then, someone stops Charles to shake his hand or pat him on the back, throwing in a “Good luck, Charles!” or “Can’t wait to see you on the track!” He greets everyone with a genuine smile and a word of thanks. It’s clear just how loved he is here.

However, you remain a mystery to him. He sneaks curious glances your way, the playful teasing evident in his eyes. “So are you a big Ferrari fan or just here because you look particularly fetching in red?”

You laugh, the sound more carefree than you’ve felt in ages. “Let’s just say I’m here to explore something ... different.”

Charles nods, handing you a fresh glass from the bar. The bubbling champagne mirrors the effervescence you feel inside. “Different can be good,” he muses, taking a sip from his own plastic water bottle. “Sometimes it’s the unexpected moments that change everything.”

The weight of his gaze, the intensity of the moment, makes your heart race. “Tell me, Charles,” you begin, leaning in slightly, “What was the unexpected moment that changed everything for you?”

He looks taken aback, clearly not expecting such a question. He takes a thoughtful pause, “Every time I get behind the wheel. Each race is a new story, an unexpected twist waiting to happen.”

You nod, appreciating his sincerity. “It’s brave, you know. Facing the unexpected at such high speeds.”

He smiles warmly. “It’s not bravery, it’s passion. When you love something deeply, risks become challenges instead of threats.”

Your fingers toy with the stem of your glass, his words resonating with your own yearning for freedom. “I envy that,” you admit softly.

Charles tilts his head, studying you. “Why?”

You search for the right words. “I’ve lived in a world of certainty for so long. Every step planned, every move calculated. It’s ... suffocating.”

Charles reaches out, placing a comforting hand on your arm. “Then maybe it’s time to take a risk, Y/N-with-no-last-name. Even just a small one.”

You smile, the promise of the unknown beckoning. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe it’s time.”

***

“Do you trust me?” Charles’ eyes search yours, intense under the paddock lights.

You blink, taken aback by the sudden question. “We just met.”

He grins, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “That’s not an answer.”

Drawing in a deep breath, you reply, “I might. What are you proposing?”

His gaze drifts momentarily to the track. “After qualifying … how about a drive? Not here,” he adds, seeing your hesitation, “Away from all this. The city at night, the open road. Just two people and the world.”

You tilt your head, contemplating the offer. A spark of excitement ignites within you. “A midnight drive with a stranger? Sounds reckless.”

He chuckles, leaning in closer. The scent of leather and adrenaline wraps around you. “Life’s best moments usually are.”

As his name is called by his press officer, Charles straightens up. “I have to go. But think about it, Y/N-with-no-last-name. The invitation stands.”

Before you can respond, he jots down something on a piece of paper and hands it to you. An address. “Meet me here if you’re in. Midnight.”

You watch him stride confidently towards his garage, the weight of the decision pressing on you. Risk, freedom, the open road — its all you’ve always yearned for.

Hours later, as Charles places his car on pole, you find yourself gripping that piece of paper. The thought of the city lights and the wind through your hair is too alluring to resist.

You whisper to yourself, “Midnight it is.”

***

The ornate curtains rustle as you inch your way onto the balcony of your suite. The sheer drop below sends a thrilling chill down your spine. You’ve never snuck out before but the thought of the night ahead and Charles’ invitation propels you forward. You hitch up your dress, carefully lowering yourself onto the ledge below. The soft grass cushions your landing and you take a moment to steady your racing heart.

“You’re even crazier than I am,” a familiar voice observes from the shadows.

You whirl around, finding Charles leaning against his car, an impressed grin on his face. “I had to make a discreet exit,” you explain, cheeks warming.

He chuckles, pushing away from the car and walking over to you. “Glad you made it. Ready for our adventure?”

You nod, the proximity of him, the thrill of the night, everything heightening your senses. “More than ever.”

The car roars to life as you both settle in. The city lights blur past, the nocturnal beauty of the world unfolding around you. The road beckons, the possibilities endless.

Charles casts a sidelong glance at you, a playful smirk on his lips. “Ever driven with no speed limit?”

You laugh, “Not in my daily commute.”

He grins, “There’s a first time for everything.”

The car accelerates, the wind whipping through your hair, the night alive with potential. The city skyline fades, replaced by an open stretch of road, illuminated only by the car’s headlights and the soft glow of the moon.

Charles’ voice breaks the comfortable silence. “There’s something freeing about the night. The world sleeps, and for a few hours, you can pretend you’re the only ones alive.”

You glance over, sensing the depth of emotion behind his words. “Is this why you race? For that freedom?”

He nods, his profile bathed in moonlight. “And more. Every time I’m behind the wheel, it’s a battle against my doubts, the world, and myself.”

You understand, the weight of your own gilded cage pressing on you. “I’ve been trapped for so long. But tonight, with you, I feel … alive.”

He reaches over, entwining his fingers with yours. “Then let’s live. For tonight, let’s forget the world.”

***

“Why are those men watching us?” Charles’ voice is low, almost a whisper, as he subtly gestures towards two figures in dark suits, positioned at opposite sides of the bar you found yourselves at.

You follow his gaze discreetly, feeling a familiar dread settling in. Security. Your father’s men. “They’re ... they’re just protective, that’s all.”

Charles narrows his eyes, piecing things together. “Protective? Y/N, who are you really?”

A pang of guilt washes over you. You had hoped for more time before this moment, more stolen moments under the veil of anonymity. “It’s complicated,” you admit, hesitating.

He leans forward, his intense eyes searching yours. “Try me.”

You take a deep breath, struggling to find the right words. “My life ... it’s not what it seems. I live in a gilded cage. A cage built by my father’s wealth and influence. A beautiful cage, yes, but a cage nonetheless.”

He processes this, watching as one of the security approaches your table, handing you a phone. “Your father wishes to speak with you,” the man says tersely.

Charles’ gaze sharpens, suspicion evident. “Your father?”

You nod, taking the phone with a sigh. “Hello, Papa.”

“Y/N,” your father’s voice is a mix of relief and sternness, “I’ve been so worried. You just disappeared.”

“I needed some time,” you explain, glancing apologetically at Charles who is watching the exchange closely.

“You should come back now.”

“I’m not a child anymore,” you argue gently, “I need to live my life.”

A heavy silence follows. “Just ... be safe,” he finally murmurs.

Hanging up, you face Charles, the weight of the world pressing on you. “I’m sorry, I should have told you sooner.”

Charles leans back, his expression unreadable. “So, the mysterious Y/N-with-no-last-name turns out to be the daughter of …?”

You sigh, “A very wealthy and overprotective man.”

He processes this, the playful teasing from before replaced by deep contemplation. “You know, secrets have a way of catching up with us. But,” he adds with a hint of a smile, “I’m interested in who you are, not your family name.”

You smile, relief washing over you. “Then let’s leave the secrets for another day.”

***

The morning sun paints the Ferrari garage in a wash of golden hues, every glinting reflection a dance of radiant red. Charles stands out despite wearing the same color as he eagerly waves you over to show off the helmet in his hands.

“It’s beautiful.” Your fingers trace the lines of the design, the light catching on its glossy finish.

Charles spins the helmet so you can see every detail. “Not just the design. It’s the weight, the feel. When I put this on, I’m stepping into another world. Everything else fades away. Just the track, the car, and me.”

You smile, fascinated by his passion. But as your gaze slides over the helmet, you freeze. There, emblazoned on the side, is the unmistakable logo of Y/L/N Industries. You try to hide your surprise but Charles catches your reaction. “You recognize the logo?”

Swallowing hard, you nod. “It’s … everywhere, isn’t it?”

Charles, not picking up on your unease, grins. “Oh yes. They’re our main sponsors this season. Y/L/N Industries is massive.”

Your heart thuds. Every mention, every hint, makes the looming truth harder to avoid. “They seem ... impressive.”

You avoid his gaze, watching the mechanics prepare the cars for the race. Each Ferrari, shining in the morning sun, proudly displays the same Y/L/N Industries logo. There’s no escaping it.

Noticing your distraction, Charles follows your gaze. “I’ve always found it fascinating. How brands link up with teams. How they can become synonymous with each other over the years. Like what we had with Marlboro and now Y/L/N Industries. It’s ... an alliance.”

You chuckle, trying to deflect. “An expensive alliance.”

He laughs, “Very true. But Y/L/N Industries is more than just a name on our cars. I met the owner once, at a sponsorship event. Very ... protective of his interests.”

You gulp, feeling cornered. “Is that so?”

Charles nods, oblivious to your discomfort. “Yes. Has a daughter too, I’ve heard. But she’s kept away from the limelight. Must be hard, living under such a powerful shadow.”

Your voice is barely a whisper, “You have no idea.”

He looks at you, sensing the weight behind your words. “Y/N?”

Taking a deep breath, you finally admit, “My last name ... it’s Y/L/N.”

He stares, processing the revelation. The playful driver you spent the past days with is replaced by someone more cautious, more guarded. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

You look down, fighting back tears. “I wanted to be just Y/N, not a Y/L/N. I wanted freedom, even if just for a few days.”

Charles reaches out, lifting your chin gently. “You're still Y/N to me. But secrets ... they complicate things.”

You nod, regret clear in your eyes. “I’m sorry.”

He smiles, though it’s not quite as bright as usual. “Let’s focus on today. The race. We’ll figure the rest out later.”

***

You’re startled from your thoughts when the doors to your room burst open, the journal in which you’ve been scribbling memories of your secret meetings with Charles slipping from your fingers.

Your father stands there, a mixture of anger and desperation etching his features. In his hand, he holds a photograph — one of you and Charles lost in conversation in a hole-in-the-wall restaurant.

“Explain this,” he demands, voice shaking.

You swallow hard, the weight of your secret outings pressing down on you. “Papa, I—”

He cuts you off, waving the photograph. “Weeks, Y/N! Weeks you’ve been sneaking around, meeting him. Did you think I wouldn’t find out?”

Your voice trembles, “I just want something for myself, something real.”

He looks torn, battling between his desire to protect you and understanding your need for freedom. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because,” you hesitate, taking a deep breath, “I want to be just Y/N for once, not Y/N Y/L/N.”

“Don’t you see? That’s exactly why I protect you! The world will never see just Y/N. They will always see a Y/L/N and they will always want something from you.”

“You can’t keep doing this!” The words burst out of you before you can stop them, the pent-up frustration, fear, and yearning for freedom all culminating in this very moment.

Your father stands at the opposite end of the lavish living room, the city skyline a muted backdrop behind him. His eyes, usually so authoritative, are wide with surprise and concern. “I am only looking out for you.”

You shake your head, your voice trembling. “Looking out for me or controlling me?”

He flinches as if you physically struck him. “I want to keep you safe.”

Safe. The word hangs heavily between you, a reminder of the invisible chains binding you. “At what cost, Papa? My happiness? My freedom?”

He sighs, running a hand through his graying hair. “It’s not that simple.”

You pace the room, your emotions spilling over. “Do you even realize? Every choice, every decision has been made for me. Who I meet, where I go, even what I feel. I am suffocating!”

He looks pained. “I never meant to—”

“But you did!” You interject, tears streaming down your face. “Every time you made a choice for me, you took away a piece of my life.”

A heavy silence settles between you two, the unspoken words and regrets creating an impenetrable barrier.

Finally, your father speaks, his voice soft and filled with sorrow. “I lost your mother. I can’t bear the thought of losing you too.”

Your heart aches, understanding and resentment warring within. “I’m not Mama. I need to live, make mistakes, find love. I need to be free.”

He closes his eyes tightly, the weight of your words pressing down on him. “I just ... I love you so much.”

You walk over, taking his hands in yours, feeling the roughness of age and experience. “And I love you. But love isn’t about possession. It’s about understanding, trust, and letting go.”

Tears brim his eyes, the facade of the powerful businessman crumbling. “You will always be my little girl. I would give up every dollar — everything — if it meant keeping you safe. I’m scared that one day I won’t be able to protect you.”

You squeeze his hands. “We have to face our fears. Together.”

***

“He knows. Papa knows about us.” Your voice wavers as you meet in your secret hideaway, a small bakery tucked away from prying eyes.

Charles’ face pales, his fingers gripping the table edge. “How did he react?”

You draw in a shuddering breath, recalling the confrontation. “Not well. He feels... betrayed. I think I got through to him eventually but you never know with him. One second he’s smiling at a business rival and the next he’s snatching away their company in a hostile takeover.”

Charles’ eyes darken with concern. “I don’t want you caught in the crossfire between me and Y/L/N Industries.”

You shake your head, reaching out to touch his hand. “This isn’t about sponsorships or racing. This is about us. He’s just overprotective.”

He sighs, rubbing his temples. “This complicates things. Your father’s influence runs deep, even in the racing world.”

Tears sting your eyes. “So what? Are you saying we should …?”

“No,” Charles interjects firmly, squeezing your hand. “I’m saying we need to be careful. I won’t let anything harm you.”

A bitter laugh escapes your lips. “My father would never hurt me … at least not physically. It’s not me I’m worried about. It’s you.”

He smirks, trying to lighten the mood. “Well, I do have a penchant for driving really fast cars. Comes with a touch of danger.”

You’re not amused. “This is serious. Papa can be ... vindictive.”

Charles looks deep into your eyes. “Then we face this together. Secrets have kept us apart but now, truth will keep us together.”

You lean in, your foreheads touching. “Promise?”

He smiles, capturing your lips in a kiss. “Promise.”

***

A reporter leans forward, her voice crackling with excitement. “Charles, you just secured a stunning victory for Ferrari in a race that almost everyone thought was Red Bull’s to lose. How does it feel to come out on top?”

Charles grins, his eyes alive with a fire that burns brighter than ever. “Honestly, it’s hard to describe. We’ve been pushing ourselves, refining the car, and today, everything just clicked. The team’s effort, the car’s performance, it all paid off.”

The crowd cheers, their elation echoing through the broadcast. The reporter presses on, “You dedicated this win to someone special. Care to tell us who?”

Charles’ gaze softens, a subtle smile tugging at his lips. “There’s someone who has shown me a world beyond the track. Someone who made me realize that the freedom I feel whenever I get behind the wheel is even more precious than I always thought. This win is for her.”

A murmur ripples through the crowd, the identity of this mysterious someone a topic of speculation. The reporter smiles, clearly eager for more details. “And can you give us a hint? Is she here today?”

Charles chuckles, his dimples popping through. “Let’s just say she’s closer than you might think.”

Later, as the celebrations continue, you find yourself in a secluded corner of the motorhome, away from the clamor of the team and fans. Charles walks over, that same victorious smile on his lips. “Did you hear?”

You nod, heart still racing. “You dedicated the win to me.”

He steps closer, his hand cupping your cheek. “Of course. You’ve given me one more reason to keep pushing, keep racing. It’s not just about the cars. It’s about the freedom, the moments we steal away from the world.”

Tears well up in your eyes and you kiss him passionately, pouring all your emotions into that single moment. The crowd may not know the truth behind his dedication yet but you do. And that’s all that matters.

***

“Charles seems ... different than the others,” your father begins, his gaze distant as he looks out from the penthouse balcony.

You step closer, the night air cool against your skin. “Different how?”

He sighs, turning to face you, vulnerability evident in his eyes. “He looks at you like you’re the only person in the room. He looks at you how I used to look at your mother.”

You smile, “I never expected you to notice.”

He chuckles softly. “Just because I’m protective doesn’t mean I’m blind. I’ve watched people all my life. It’s how I built everything,” he gestures towards the sprawling city below, the twinkling lights of his corporate empire.

The weight of the moment settles between you, the years of misunderstandings and unspoken words pressing down. “Papa, I know you’re scared. Scared of the world out there, of what it might do. But I can’t be trapped forever.”

His expression softens, pain evident. “I have seen so much, faced so many betrayals. The world is rarely kind.”

You reach out, touching his arm gently. “I understand. But holding on too tight will only push me away.”

He closes his eyes, taking a shaky breath. “It’s just ... hard. Watching you grow, wanting to spread your wings. I wish I could shield you from everything.”

You smile gently. “But then I wouldn’t truly be living. Charles, he’s shown me a world beyond these walls. A world that’s unpredictable, thrilling, and real.”

Your father nods slowly. “I saw that. The way he stood by you, the way he spoke of you. He … he loves you.”

You wrap your arms around yourself, the night’s chill deepening. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted. Someone who sees me, not my last name, not a walking dollar sign.”

He steps closer, pulling you into a comforting embrace. “I’m trying. It’s not easy, letting go. But I trust you. I just need time.”

You nod, resting your head against his chest. “I know. Just promise me one thing.”

He tilts your chin up, looking into your eyes. “Anything.”

You smile, a weight lifting off your shoulders. “Trust him too. Give Charles a chance.”

He sighs, the walls he built over the years slowly crumbling. “For you, I’ll try.”

***

“I’ve been waiting for this moment,” your father says, breaking the tense silence that envelops the extravagant dining room.

Charles, sitting straight-backed and visibly anxious, clears his throat. “Sir, I assure you, my intentions with Y/N are—”

Genuine laughter interrupts him. You glance in shock at your father, who chuckles, “Relax, Charles. I’ve watched you on the track. You face challenges head-on. That’s a quality I admire.”

Charles exhales a sigh of relief. “Thank you, sir. Y/N means the world to me.”

Your father studies Charles, his gaze thoughtful. “I can see that. And I have seen the change in Y/N since she met you.”

You bite your lip, waiting for what he might say next. “Papa, I—”

He raises a hand, silencing you. “I’ve spent my life building walls around you, trying to protect you from the world. But maybe ... maybe it’s time to let you fly.”

Your heart leaps in your chest. “Papa …”

He smiles at you, warmth shining in his eyes. “You’re my daughter. All I’ve ever wanted is your happiness. If Charles is the one who brings that joy, then I give you both my blessing.”

Tears glisten in your eyes as you stand, moving to embrace your father. “Thank you.”

Charles stands too, extending a hand towards your father. “Thank you, sir. I promise to take cherish and take care of her.”

Your father grasps Charles’ hand for a moment longer than expected, a thoughtful look in his eyes. “Charles,” he begins, a twinkle of mischief evident, “just remember … if you ever hurt my daughter, they will never find your body.”

Charles gulps, eyes widening, then realizes the playful tone your father has adopted. He chuckles, nodding, “Duly noted, sir.”

You can’t help but laugh, shaking your head. “Papa, you are impossible.”

Your father grins, the atmosphere significantly lighter. “Just making sure he understands.”

Charles playfully raises his hands in surrender. “Message received loud and clear.”

***

The pitter-patter of little feet echoes through the grand halls, accompanied by peals of laughter. The once silent mansion is now alive with the exuberance of youth. Every corner and every room tells tales of play and joy, of childhood memories being crafted.

“Slow down, my darlings!” You call out in amusement as you chase the energetic duo.

Charles laughs as one of your kids hides behind him, tiny hands clutching his leg. “You can’t hide here forever!” He teases.

From the doorway, your father watches, his eyes glassy. The stoic businessman, the guardian of a vast empire, is rendered soft and vulnerable by the presence of his grandchildren.

“Grandpa!” The children cheer, running to him, their arms outstretched.

He bends down, scooping them into a gentle embrace. “I have a surprise for you,” he whispers, producing a small cage with a golden canary inside from behind his back. Its wings barely beat, eyes darting around to mirror its trapped spirit.

The children’s eyes widen in wonder. “Why is it in a cage, Grandpa?”

Your father looks up, meeting your gaze, the weight of the past reflected in his eyes. “It looked sad at the market, just like someone I once knew. But we’re going to set it free.”

Together, the family moves to the balcony. Your father opens the cage door, and the canary, after a hesitant moment, takes flight, its song a melody of freedom and hope.

As you watch the bird disappear into the horizon, your father breaks the silence. “Sometimes, we cage the things we love, thinking it’s for the best. But true love is about letting go, letting them spread their wings.”

You lean into Charles, his arm wrapping around you, the children nestled between you both. “Thank you, Papa,” you whisper. “For letting us learn the true meaning of freedom.”

Your father smiles, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “It took me a while but I finally understand. Love, life, freedom — they’re all interconnected. We just have to find our sky.”

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daydreaming-in-letters · 10 months

Text

Apricity

07/12/2023

Pairing: Andrew (Hozier) x fem!reader

Word Count: 3,733

Warnings: rpf, language, alcohol, heartbreak, pining, fluff

Summary: After a painful breakup, Andrew needs the comfort of his best friend.

A/N: I'm going to church tonight, and I brought an offering for the god(s). Hope you like it.

Picture by Daniel Goodman via Business Insider

If you like my story, you are very welcome to like, comment or reblog. No permission is given to copy, repost or share my work on other platforms.

“Last orders.”

The booming voice rolled through the thick, hot air like thunder. It was a wonder they could hear it at all above the music and buzz of voices, she thought, but the bearded man behind the counter looked like the type who knew exactly how to make himself heard. Andrew on the other hand was not a man who raised his voice in conversation regularly, still she shivered when instead she suddenly felt his hot breath waft through her hair.

“Shall we take another?”

But he was gone before she could even turn to face him, let alone process his words and form a coherent answer.

“Oh, so no to that,” he misconstrued the confusion on her face as their eyes finally met. “You could have just said so, you know. No need to pull a face like that.”

“What face?”

“You know, the one where your eyebrows knit together just a tiny bit and the corners of your mouth fall a little.”

He tried to mimic her expression and whether he had intended to or not, he made her laugh. And as if that wasn’t enough already, he smiled along, that crooked half-smile of his, almost as if he was surprised anything he did could genuinely amuse her.

“Andrew, that’s just my usual face. It doesn’t mean anything. Although…”

“Ah, see. Not just your usual face after all then. You can’t fool me, you should have realised that by now. I don’t know why you still keep trying though.”

The slight curl of his lips reappeared for a moment, making him look so very proud of himself. And, for the first time this evening, almost a little happy. Now who was she to take that away from him by telling the truth: that she had been fooling him about her true feelings for months, maybe even years, and very successfully so, it seemed.

“You’re a grown-up, Andrew. Have a drink if you want another. But—”

The last word had earned her a very dramatic roll of his eyes.

“I knew there was a ‘but’.”

“Yes, Freud, we know, you can look through me like glass, anticipating my every move.”

He chuckled. “Finally you see reason, woman.”

“But seriously,” she could see another remark form behind his mischievous eyes, so she was quick to make her point, “is that wise? Another drink will only make you sadder than you already are.”

“Sad? I’m not sad. I’m angry. Fucking furious to be precise.”

Mostly with himself, she assumed. In all this time she had known him, he had never held a grudge against anyone for long, if at all. But it wasn’t as easy for him to forgive himself at times. Still, anger was progress.

“Good.” Softly she squeezed his hand and waited until the tension of his sudden outburst slowly subsided. “That’s good. You’re moving into the next phase then.”

He mumbled something under his breath, the sentence impossible to understand against the bustle of the pub. The only word she could identify was “Freud”, enough to help her understand that it had just been another of his sassy retorts. His next words came clearer though.

“If that really is a good thing, why can I hear concern in your voice?”

“I’m just surprised, that’s all. I didn’t think you would recover from her so soon.”

Andrew had not told her what exactly had passed between them and she didn’t want to pry. She only knew that they had argued, and that his girlfr—ex-girlfriend—had given him an ultimatum of some sort. Whatever it had been about, he obviously hadn’t decided in the woman’s favour.

“Why shouldn’t I?”

Before she was able to stop herself, she could feel her brow rise, reminding him that they both knew he wasn’t the type that skipped through relationships. The final decision had been made a mere five days ago, a rather short time in her opinion to move into the phase of anger. But Andrew wasn’t her and for all she knew whatever it was that had led to the sudden end of this relationship might have given him reason in abundance to be infuriated.

“Come on, I only knew her for what? About half a year? It’s not as if she was…” For a brief moment he paused, his eyes resting on her while he tried to swallow the words that had already been forming on his tongue. But it was too late and when he finally continued, his voice was softer than it had been all evening, almost fragile. “…the love of my life.”

Eagerly he gulped down the remains of his drink as if to clean his mouth from its last statement before the glass hit the counter with an audible clink.

“You’re right though. I probably shouldn’t have another one of these. Better call it a night.”

He didn’t even wait for her response, long fingers already busy stuffing his lush bun underneath a grey beanie. She had just slipped into her jacket when he already turned to lead the way. It would be easy to get to the entrance with him in the lead, his tall form parting the crowd effortlessly for them. But he didn’t seem quite as confident in the impact of his height as he hesitated for a moment. She had no idea why, not until she could suddenly feel the warmth of his hand closing around her own. His action startled her, only for a brief second, while her brain was trying to recall a thousand memories at once just to make sure she wasn’t mistaken in thinking that he had never done this before. He hadn’t. Still it felt normal. Easy. Everything was always easy with him. Conversations, silence, laughing, crying — it was all easy. Effortless and comfortable. Natural.

It wasn’t long though before they were met with the cold night air. It hit her hard, almost making her take a step back as, with the first inhale of fresh air, it invaded her lungs. Still it was nothing, an irrelevant fact, drowned out against the much harsher sensation of his hand gliding out of hers.

He didn’t even need to fully raise the hand that had been hers for a blink of time to make the taxi hold in front of them. But it was enough for the icy air to crawl underneath her clothes and wrap around her in a tight grip. Not even his sweet gesture of holding the door for her combined with the warmth that streamed towards her from inside the cabin could keep her from shaking violently.

And it didn’t stop. Not when the door closed, not when his body pressed against hers in the limited space of the back seat. She was almost convinced that nothing would ever stop this chill, when suddenly his voice filled the silence to state the obvious.

“You’re shivering. Come here.”

And then his arm was there, invading the unclaimed territory of her neck and shoulders to pull her close. It may have been the spirits inside her system, making her needy and weak to his touch. Whatever it was, she didn’t care as she sank deeper and deeper into the unmatched heat that seeped freely from him, directly underneath her skin. She could feel his chest rising and falling so evenly, as if her closeness meant nothing, as if this was the normal way to be. It was infectious, hypnotising her into a state of untainted drowsiness, one last thought remaining on her mind. This was it, not just the normal way to be, the only way to be. Even more so as his lips pressed to her hair, a gesture so tender it made her heart flutter, and she knew that she would never recover from this moment, however insignificant it was to him.

“I don’t think I told you, but I’m so glad you’re here.”

His words were mumbled against the crown of her head, almost inaudible above the noise of the car and the blaring music from the radio, but she had heard them and would cherish them forever, sealed inside her heart until her last breath.

For most, they would be the bare minimum after crossing an ocean in a hurry simply because she had known something was off. She always knew, from the fatigued tone of his voice to the slight change of colour in his eyes, from the way he had to force his smile, never quite reaching the full infectious gleam it usually held, his mind anywhere but with her while his fingers kneaded the palm of his hand in discomfort.

She also knew that it had probably been an overreaction, but she would do a lot more for him than spend her last savings on a transatlantic flight and an overpriced Airbnb, for him, she would walk all the way through the eternal fires of hell and back if that was what it took to make him whole again. He probably wouldn’t do the same for her, but that didn’t matter. She didn’t expect him to, that was not the way love worked.

“Well, first and foremost I came here to whup that woman’s ass for treating you like...well, the way she did. Comforting you was just second on my list.”

Stirred by a deep chuckle, his hot breath wafted through her hair for the second time this night. It was addictive, and dangerous, because it made her want to cuddle in deeper until it was too late to let go. And right now, just for a second, she allowed herself to hope that he might actually let her. Later this night, she promised herself, she would forget all about it. Forget about the soothing warmth he gave her and the light his presence brought to her life, always. It would be hard to erase the memory of a love that had never been and never would, even more so in the cold of an unfamiliar bed, reminding her mercilessly that she was just another foreigner in a city of millions of strangers. In a world where no one truly knew her but one. And even he didn’t know the one thing she so desperately wanted him to know, yet feared to tell him the most.

“We both know that’s not true.” For a second she held her breath, stupidly fearing he had been listening in on her thoughts. “You couldn’t even hurt a fly.”

Technically, he was right, she silently agreed with him while she relaxed in his arms again. But this was about him. And seeing him like this, this gentle, loving, warm soul, defeated by the betrayal of someone he had given his whole heart to—even if he denied that now… To her, that was reason enough for far more than just a firm ass-whupping.

Maybe she should finally listen to the nagging voice inside her head and tell him just that. It seemed simple enough, a few words spoken from the heart and it would at last be out of her system. After month and month of silence it would be out in the open, released from her heart and yet vague enough for him to take it one way or the other. Like a spectator from the outside she felt herself move to leave his embrace, but before she even had the chance to open her mouth, he beat her to it. A strained groan fell from his lips, eyes rolling heavily in their sockets and she thought she might have missed the moment in which she had already made her confession without even noticing, when she realised his agitation had nothing to do with her at all.

“Oh, come on. Of all the songs…”

Instant relief washed over her, causing a rush to the head that made her feel a little lightheaded. Enough for a cheeky grin to curl her lips.

“No, don’t you dare. Don’t even think about—” he warned, but too late.

“Go on now, go, walk out the door, just turn around now ‘cause you’re not welcome anymore…”

Her voice sounded all croaky and flat and she gave it her all to make it sound even worse. Knowing her absolute lack of talent, she usually avoided singing in public, and it had only ever happened on a handful of occasions, when the alcohol had made her indifferent to the physical pain she caused her poor audience. Andrew had always teased her relentlessly afterwards, but she knew all too well that he found it endearing and very amusing. He couldn’t deny that now, although his furrowed brows might give a different impression, but it didn’t take long until he accepted his defeat and the sweetest of smiles spread on his lips. And after leaving her hanging for another few lines, he joined in.

“I used to cry, but now I hold my head up high and you see me, somebody new, I'm not that chained-up little person still in love with you. And so you felt like dropping in and just expect me to be free. Well, now I'm saving all my lovin' for someone who's loving me…”

They were both belting at the top of their lungs, all the way through the song, and when it finally ended, they fell back into their seats, giggling and panting violently as if they had just finished running a marathon. She was still holding her belly, completely wrapped up in their little cocoon of pure joy when she realised that something was off. She hadn’t noticed at first, but the taxi had come to a stop. It was hard to tell how long it had been standing in front of the red brick row house already, but if the driver’s face was anything to go by, it might have been quite a moment since their arrival.

He cleared his throat while he held her gaze in the mirror and Andrew’s laughter died away as well. She hated the cabby a little for taking this moment away from her friend and threw him a dirty look. Andy deserved being happy, so much, if only for the length of one single song. Careful to soften her gaze, she turned to look at him.

“Well, I guess this is me then.”

His answer was nothing but a tight lipped smile that left her with a thousand different options of interpretation. She was still trying to work out its meaning when for the second time this night, he took her completely by surprise.

It wasn’t the fact that he reached out for her to pull her in for a hug that startled her, he always did that before they said goodbye, but the way his embrace felt just a little tighter, his familiar scent more intoxicating than usual and the wool of his coat that suited him so exceptionally well unbelievably soft underneath her fingertips. In a mere moment he invaded her whole being, flowing through her freely until she could hear her soul hum in the silence that surrounded them.

It felt unholy to pull away, the sacrilege petrifying her in her seat, leaving her with no option but to stare at him. She had almost forgotten how beautiful his eyes were. That lush, mossy green, flecked with warm, earthy shades, she wanted to dive into them, and never return.

And there it was again, that one feeling she only ever had when she was with him. It was hard to pin down, it was not as if she was not complete without him. She was. But she had spent her whole life trying to fit in and with him, she didn’t have to. It just came naturally.

For a tiny moment, it seemed as if he was moving closer again. She noticed his eyes fall to her lips, or maybe she had imagined it. Either way, she couldn’t help herself from doing the same, watching the pink pillows open the slightest bit, a sigh waiting to fall, or a word, but it never came. Instead, a dog barked somewhere nearby and the moment was gone.

When she looked up, it was unmistakeable that the sadness had returned to his eyes as well. She hated it, hated every second they didn’t shine as brightly as they usually did. She missed the excitement they used to hold, the warmth and kindness they radiated from beneath his long lashes. And her heart broke for him all over again.

A soothing smile on her lips, the palm of her hand cupped his bearded cheek. She wanted to tell him that even if everyone were to abandon him, she would always be there. The words were forming in her mind so clearly, all she had to do was open her mouth and deliver them, but instead she heard herself say, “There is someone out there for you, Andrew. I’m sure of it.”

He returned her smile, faintly, but it was definitely there and it didn’t leave even as he turned his head to kiss the palm of her hand.

“Good night.”

“Night, love. I’ll call you in the morning.”

She nodded, and then she was gone. Andrew moved over to the spot where she had been sitting to watch her walking up the stairs. One hand pressed against the leather of the seat, he felt her warmth that still remained, felt his skin soaking it up to let it warm him from the inside.

She had always possessed this power, to warm him up and thaw his heart, even though he had thought that this time it had frozen for good. But the second he had taken her hand in that pub—whatever had driven him to do so—he had known that all would be well eventually. It had been so right, so natural, to feel her like that, if only he would be brave enough to tell her. But he could never, not as long as there was even the slightest possibility she didn’t feel the same. Because more than loving her in secret, it would hurt to lose her forever. He would rather have her as a friend than not at all because for him, there was no life without her.

There was no way he would ever tell her, but it was this exact truth that had ended his last relationship. Faced with the choice between her and anyone else in this world, it would always be her. No matter what. There had never been the tiniest chance he could have decided otherwise.

And now he was surer than ever that he had made the right choice. Maybe this night had made him delirious, he still couldn’t tell. She had been so close, filling first his senses and then his mind with nothing but her until he had let himself believe that this could really be it. His life as it was supposed to be. For a second he had even imagined that she was leaning in, that she wanted to kiss him just as badly as he wanted to seal her lips with his.

But even if she had, it was probably only pity speaking. Or worse, she might have thought that he needed a cheap substitute to drown his pain. And nothing could be further from the truth. He had almost been thankful for the bark that had interrupted them, without it he would never have found the strength to pull away and return her abrupt goodbye. Still, it was better this way. By morning he would have forced himself to forget about everything that could have been tonight, he would call her as he had promised and pretend that she didn’t hold his heart. It had always been like that. And it always would be.

She had almost made it to the door by now. Her steps already slowing while she was fumbling for the keys in her bag. He didn’t know how hard it was for her to hurdle the remaining distance between herself and the door. Especially with all the tears clouding her gaze. She had felt them coming even before the taxi door had closed behind her. And so she hadn’t looked back, afraid he might see. And now that she had almost made it, she couldn’t even find those bloody keys in her stupid bag.

It seemed like a miracle when she finally closed her hand around the cold metal to bring it to the dim light of the streetlamps. But her triumph had been too hasty, the keys gliding out of her slippery fingers and shattering onto the ground with an ugly clattering noise.

The frustration set loose more tears, forcing her to fish around blindly for them and when she had finally managed to find them, she fumbled around equally clumsily to find the keyhole. Her only solace was that she had heard the taxi pull away while she had been hunching on the ground, so at least nobody had seen. He hadn’t seen.

“You know, I was wondering,” she jolted upon the unexpected voice, her keys hitting the ground once more as she turned around in a hurry to find him right in front of herself. “When you said someone— Are you crying?”

“No,” she promptly replied, but it was useless to deny the obvious, she realised, as her croaky voice sounded through the silence, fresh tears still burning hot on her cheeks. And Andrew being Andrew, he didn’t hesitate. In the blink of an eye he was there, gentle hands cupping her face and wiping away the salty streams.

“Why are you crying, love?”

She didn’t answer, her throat sealed by a lump of fear. If she answered truthfully now, she would lose him. And she couldn’t, she mustn’t.

But he knew anyway. It was obvious from the way his forehead wrinkled and his eyes softened upon the realisation. She hadn’t expected the crooked smile though that slowly began to grace his lips.

“I see.”

His lips were even softer than she could have ever imagined, moving so tenderly with hers. And even though this was happening so fast that she didn’t know if she was awake or dreaming, she felt herself relax in his arms. Letting go of all her worries was suddenly so easy. Everything was easy with him.

#hozier x reader #hozier x you #hozier #hozier imagine #hozier rpf #hozier fanfic #hozier fanfiction #apricity

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scoobydoodean · 2 months

Note

Hi! I just wanted to start off by saying that your analyses on the characters are awesome and they really helped further my understanding of the show, so keep up the good work! :D

I was wondering, if you don't mind answering, what did you think of about Dean giving permission for Gadreel/Ezekiel to possess Sam in season 9?

I'm still a bit on the fence about how to feel about it and I thought your particular brand of wisdom might be able to help me out.

Dean had just a few pieces of information at the hospital in 9.01.

Dean knew that Sam had every intention of surviving The Trials in 8.14 and in fact Sam promised he would survive them and show Dean to the light at the end of the tunnel, because Dean was suicidal: "I'm closing the gates. It's a suicide mission for you. [...] I want to slam hell shut, too, okay? But I want to survive it. I want to live, and so should you. You have friends up here, family. I mean, hell, you even got your own room now. You were right, okay? I see light at the end of this tunnel. And I'm sorry you don't – I am. But it's there. And if you come with me, I can take you to it."

Dean observed that Sam became suicidal over the course of The Trials and that this culminated in Sam forsaking his promise and his desire to live and falling into a tailspin where he wanted to die to make himself "pure". Disturbing dialogue from 8.21: "Knights of the Round Table. Had all of King Arthur's knights, and they were all on the quest for the Holy Grail. And I remember looking at this picture of Sir Galahad, and, and, and he was kneeling, and— and light streaming over his face, and— I remember... thinking, uh, I could never go on a quest like that. Because I'm not clean. I mean, I w— I was just a little kid. You think... maybe I knew? I mean, deep down, that— I had... demon blood in me, and about the evil of it, and that I'm— wasn't pure? [...] It doesn't matter anymore. Because these trials... they're purifying me."

Dean pleaded with Sam not to kill himself in 8.23, and Sam agreed, asking, "How do I stop?"

These are the details Dean has prior to Sam falling into a coma. He believes that his brother wanted to commit suicide, but that he did change his mind and decide he wants to live.

Two other notable details:

First, Gadreel earns Dean's trust quickly by risking his ass to help Dean, and then on the phone (after being given the fake name "Ezekiel") Cas, relieved and pleased, vouches for Ezekiel. So Dean has no reason to suspect anything nefarious (and in fact, at this point, Gadreel doesn't have particularly nefarious intentions besides staying in hiding away from other angels).

Second, Dean is not the one who pleads with Sam to live in the dream sequence, getting him to say "Yes". It can't be Dean, because 1) "Dean's" face morphs into Gadreels which is clearly intended to indicate to us that this wasn't Dean speaking 2) If Gadreel was somehow projecting the real Dean into the conversation to give that speech, then Gadreel wouldn't be the one receiving the consent. It would truly be Dean receiving it and not just Gadreel pretending. Those words HAVE to come from Gadreel's mouth for the possession to work—not Dean's. We've seen angels morph into loved ones and mimic their voices perfectly several times.

With all that in mind:

After Gadreel pitches his plan to possess Sam, Dean immediately says it isn't his call to make—it's Sam's. It's after Gadreel shows him Sam falling back into the same suicidality from 8.23—wanting to die so that "no one else can get hurt because of me"—that Dean wavers. Still—at the end of the day, whether Sam agrees to live or not was never Dean's choice, and this is something I often see people get mixed up about. Dean doesn't get to choose whether Sam dies or not. It is still Sam who chooses to live. Sam does this by saying "Yes" to Gadreel. This could not have happened if Sam hadn't changed his mind about living. He doesn't know he's going to be possessed, but he has once again beaten back his suicidality and chosen to live. Sam still had hope in a good future.

Sam chose to live. He did not know he was going to be possessed. That's the issue. However, Dean did not intend to keep Gadreel's possession from Sam after it happened. Dean and Gadreel have this conversation upon leaving the hospital:

DEAN So? How's it look in there? EZEKIEL IN SAM’S BODY Not good. There is much work to be done. DEAN Yeah, but he's gonna wake up, right? EZEKIEL IN SAM’S BODY He will. DEAN So, what he does – what, is he gonna feel you inside, triaging his spleen? EZEKIEL IN SAM’S BODY He will not feel me, no. There is no reason for Sam to know I'm in here at all. DEAN You're joking. No, this is – this is too big. EZEKIEL IN SAM’S BODY And what will he do if you do tell him he is possessed by an angel? DEAN Well, he'll have to understand.

This conversation suggests that Dean's initial thought process was "We perform supernatural life-saving surgery". He just wanted to get Sam to a point where he'd wake up and they could talk. Like any situation with a relative in a coma, that person in a coma can't consent to surgery. The next of kin is the one who gives consent, because their loved one can't. They can only consent to a procedure if awake to do so. So Dean doesn't stop Gadreel from performing life saving surgery, but his intial belief and intent is that they'll put all of this back in Sam's hands when he's awake.

Up to this point, I don't actually have a problem with what Dean's done based on his knowledge. It's here at the end of the episode, where Gadreel convinces Dean to depart from his intial intent and stall, that in my opinion, the "Dean doing something wrong" part starts:

EZEKIEL IN SAM’S BODY And if he does not? Without his acceptance, Sam can eject me at any time, especially with me so weak. And if Sam does eject me, he will die. DEAN Then we keep it a secret for now. Or until Sam's well enough that he doesn't need an angelic pacemaker or I find a way to tell him. I - I... As for him being in a hospital, I'll have to figure something out. EZEKIEL IN SAM’S BODY I can erase it all, if you like. He will not remember any of this.

Dean doesn't feel good about it, but he agrees to keep quiet, because he's scared Sam will yet again make a suicidal play. Dean is riddled with guilt in the following episodes over lying to Sam, and in 9.08, Dean tries to tell Sam he's possessed, but Gadreel takes over Sam's body and stops him. Dean comes clean again in 9.09, only for Gadreel to stop Sam from receiving the news again.

So. Dean's mistake is lying to Sam. He shouldn't have lied to him. Point blank. At the same time, had Dean pushed the issue, would Gadreel have been willing to be expelled? Would he ever have allowed Dean to tell Sam the truth, from the moment he was... installed? Or was Dean screwed from the beginning, and was the idea that he got to choose any of this—any bit of it—really just... an illusion to keep Dean compliant with the possession that was keeping Gadreel under the radar?

Think about it for a second. Why did Gadreel ask Dean's permission? He didn't ever need Dean's permission to do any of this. He didn't need Dean's permission to trick Sam. He didn't need Dean's permission to remove Sam's memory of the hospital. He didn't need Dean's permission to keep the fact that he was possessing Sam a secret. He could have done every bit of this without asking. The problem was, Dean probably would have caught onto the disappearing angel act, and Gadreel would have had to get violent, and for the first part of season 9, Gadreel doesn't want to get violent! He just wants a place to lay low, and sees an opportunity to prove he's a good angel who helps humans—not just the angel who let the serpent into the garden. Getting Dean's "consent" might ease his own conscience about nonconsensual possession or be a way to keep Dean compliant or both, but ultimately, these are more questions worth weighing imo, because Supernatural loves to toy with the illusion that Dean has power in situations where he doesn’t, and in this case, he doesn't... actually have any power at all... does he?

That said, when it comes right down to it, Dean still did something wrong by helping keep the secret—by not trying to tell Sam the truth immediately because he was scared. And well. Okay. So what?

This is a show with characters who have good intentions but still make mistakes. As Cas will say about this later, "You were stupid for the right reasons". We get some great insights into the pitfalls that lead Dean down this path, and it's interesting to watch that happen and then later, see a broken mirror as Sam endeavors to prove through season 10 what Dean is willing to do can't touch what Sam is ultimately willing to do to keep Dean around.

Here's the thing—I don't believe for a single second that Sam wouldn't do the exact same thing in 9.01 had their positions been reversed. Sam and Dean have a conversation along these lines at the end of 9.13 "The Purge":

DEAN All right, you want to be honest? If the situation were reversed and I was dying, you'd do the same thing. SAM No, Dean. I wouldn't. Same circumstances...I wouldn't.

This genuinely wounds Dean and gets brought up a few times, but then in 9.23 when it's brought up for the last time in another context:

DEAN What happened with you being okay with this? SAM I lied.

Sam never gets the chance to do the exact same thing to Dean, but he has already gone behind Dean's back to try and save his life before. He's used Dean's death to justify doing things Dean begged him not to do on his behalf. He kept the case they were actually on under wraps as he inched toward a plan to turn himself and Dean into Frankenstein's monsters in 3.15 (and really the only reason it didn't work is that Sam got captured by Doc Benton and Dean had to save his ass, and then Sam morosely helped dig the grave). Sam went behind Dean's back directly against his wishes to threaten a crossroad's demon in 3.05. In season 10, he violates Dean's consent by removing the Mark of Cain from Dean's arm using the Book of the Damned, which not only requires an overt human sacrifice of Oskar and gets a woman named Suzie killed in "The Werther Project" because Sam refuses to heed her warnings, but also results in the apocalypse... and all of this was something Dean asked Sam not to do, and Sam did every bit of it to get his brother back, and while standing in the wreckage in 11.01, echoed Dean's line from 9.13, saying, "I would do it again". Dean signed the supernatural possession next-of-kin consent form, and the fallout was Kevin and Sam. Sam violated Dean's consent and tens of thousands of people died and he said he'd do it again while they died around him.

#also i got excited but xoxo 😘#season 9 #9.01 #gadreel #the flannel business #3.15 #3.05 #11.01 #9.13 #8.14 #9.08 #9.09 #mail

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arminsumi · 8 months

Note

hey if ur up for it could u write promt 8 of friends to lovers for armin.. but like the reader teaches him how to kiss bc she really wants an excuse to finally kiss him? hehe

KISSING ON THE COUCH.

𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐈𝐍 — アルミン ⋅ fem reader

8 — "I'll teach you to kiss."

NOTE: wheee!! i'm ngl this prompt was made with armin in mind hehe 💗

WORDCOUNT ≈ 1.7k

🍒 𝐉𝐚𝐲 ⋅ 𝐑𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬/𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐭 !

"Ah, yeah, I mean, kissing is a core part of romance for most people, right? But there's no way I can do that."

Armin's chatting with you in the living room of your parent's house, just like you've always done since you were kids.

"Why? Kissing is pretty fun." you look over at him, drifting from the interleading kitchen over to where he sits slacked on the couch.

He mutters a quick and sweetly Armin-esque thank you under his breath when you hand him a soda. Vanilla Cola, his all-time favorite; he's drank it since he was twelve and didn't intend to stop drinking it.

"But kissing is awkward... you know how my first kiss went." he grimaces at the memory. You let out a breathy laugh, he looks so cute, almost like a drawing of a cute boy rather than a real one.

"Personally, I wouldn't count that as a first kiss. You were, like, what? Thirteen?" you open your own soda with a pop. It fizzes loudly, the bubbles audibly popping.

He opens his own soda, but of course — he does it in such an Armin kind of way. Very delicately pulling the tab back with his very delicate fingertips, as if the metal hurt his sensitive skin. You know he had the worst acne phase out of all your friends, there are faded scars on his cheeks. Rather than mar his beauty, you think they add to it; of course he never believed you when you said that.

"I think I was fourteen. Didn't you have yours when you were — eighteen? Right?" he looks over at you, fingertip circling the soda can lid.

His eyes always get you. They're entrancing. Hypnotizing. Spellbinding. Armin's unaware of the effect he has on girls, but that just makes him even more attractive.

"I did, yes. No need to remind me." you grumble, taking another sip of your soda and coming to a kneel at the coffee table.

You two always sat like that; him lazily on the couch, you on the plush carpet by the coffee table. Always propping your elbow on it, squishing your cheek on one palm. In the middle of a conversation, Armin would mimic your pose just to get a laugh out of you.

"Eighteen isn't too old to have your first kiss. I've told you that before." he reassures.

"Yes it is! Some people have their first kiss when they're little kids."

"But those kisses don't mean anything. They're childish kisses." Armin says.

"What age d'you think people start having adult kisses?" you ask him curiously, setting your soda down on the table.

You watch as Armin looks up in thought for a moment, his hand swiftly wiping some residual soda liquid off his upper lip. How does he make everything so attractive? In fleeting moments like these, you felt a strong urge to kiss him.

I could kiss him. I just need a plan. We're on the subject of kissing already.

You plot your moves like you're playing chess. It really isn't that difficult, but to you it feels like an impossible match.

"I think, adult kisses — eh that's a weird way of saying it — good kisses are after you're eighteen. Or maybe when you've had enough practice? But never mind, I think all the kisses I'll ever have will always be slightly awkward because I don't know what to do." he says.

He glances at you. His heart pangs when you and him make electric eye contact and he looks away. "You know..." he begins, but you cut him off.

"Why don't I teach you to kiss a girl?" you blurt out. "I mean, we're friends. Why not. I mean if you want to. Just a thought..."

He cracks a shy smile, "Just a thought?" he chuckles, then sits up and sets his soda down after a brief moment of thought.

"Alright, teach me." he asks and pats the seat next to him.

You climb up on the couch and settle down into a comfy position next to him — oh, you're very close, he thinks. The proximity makes his heart pang again, he can feel it sharp in his chest. But why? I mean, like you said, you're friends.

Do friends sit on the couch practicing kissing?

"Don't look at me like that." you tease lightly.

He blinks at you, "Like what? Oh, sorry." he giggle and widens his eyes a little. You've scolded him for having bedroom eyes many times, and he's defended that it's not bedroom eyes but rather he just has naturally lidded, sultry eyes.

"So... question." he asks as you lean in. His breath fans your face, it makes your lips tingle. You can smell the Vanilla Cola.

"Hm?"

"Where do I put my hands? Because that's something I've never really understood..."

"Oh... well you can put them anywhere you like."

"Can you guide me?" he asks.

You look at him for a moment. His heart goes wild when you take his hands in yours. Yes you and him have held hands, plenty of times in fact, when you walk around town or when you run down the school corridors or while you explore abandoned buildings.

"Personally... I would want your hands here." you tell him, placing them on your neck, "And if you'd cup the back of my neck like — yeah, like that..."

Was it getting stuffy in here? But there's a good breeze coming in through the open window. Yet you feel like you're choking up. It seems like he is, too.

Warm hands cupping the back of your neck, gentle fingers holding you like a trophy, two big blue eyes staring into your soul.

He pulls you in for a peck. A sweetly awkward one. Your noses bump. Well, now both of you can't stop smiling which makes it hard to do anything.

You lean in for a peck, but it lasts longer than his and — oh my god, he melts. It's history from there. Feeling his best friend's lips sent him to another dimension, as dramatic as that sounds.

He's levitating when you keep pressing teaching kisses to his lips. He loves that you take your time, like you're savoring the taste just like when you sip on your soda.

"Y-you can tilt your head, too, it makes it feel better..." you tell him, a little short of breath.

His head spins a bit at the sensation. His lips are tingly.

"Okay..."

So he tilts his head into the kiss, and holds the back of your neck and slides one hand down and finds your hand. He holds it.

He breaks from the kiss, lips hovering hot over yours, and looks at you through his lashes. "Is this good?"

"Mhm. Really good. You're doing g-good." you assure him.

"Can I keep going?" he asks.

"Yeah..."

So he keeps kissing you, gliding his lips over yours slowly. If anything, he only gets slower. He's really trying to savor it. Like he savors the taste of Vanilla Cola.

Minutes go by, though time dissolved in your minds by now. It was just another meaningless concept. Did past and future exist? Well, did it matter while kissing? No. No it didn't.

You pull away. He blinks and sucks in a breath, bangs lightly ruffled from pressing so close to your forehead. He can taste you on his lips, on his tongue, you're pervading his whole system and he loves it.

"S-so... that's... yeah... any questions?" you laugh, regaining composure quicker than him.

"Huh? What — questions? Yeah... can we do that again?" he asks eagerly.

"Huh?"

"What?"

"I just meant... like... keep teaching me. I think I can learn a lot from those lips." he backtracks nervously, Addam's apple shifting a little when he swallows sharply.

"Oh, right... well... y-yeah. Let's keep going then. Why don't you try kissing me now — mmf."

He goes in for it without hesitation. He kisses with his whole body, you can feel a surge of his passion wash over you, and he can feel a surge of tingles across his brain.

There's a lot of serotonin to be farmed from your kisses.

Light smacking sounds, subtle saliva sounds, lips on lips. He's never enjoyed kissing like this. But it's just practice. You're just teaching him so he can kiss... who? Who does he want to kiss? He doesn't have anyone in mind other than you.

He gets lost in it, and without thinking much he nibbles your bottom lip and swipes his tongue across it. You let him poke his tongue in and — well both of you melt harder than before. It's so impossibly soft. No wonder people praised French kissing. But did they ever get French kissed by such a gentle sweetheart like Armin? You were the only one to have that honor.

"Hah... sorry." he pulls away, breathless.

You pant very lightly, " 's okay..." you smile, "I don't mind if you... use tongue. I like it a lot..."

"Okay..." he gulps and then goes right back in to continue.

Weren't you supposed to be teaching him? It feels like that's not necessary, since both of your lips mold together perfectly. You and him are two matching puzzles pieces.

"Y/n?" he breaks from the kiss and looks down at you, hands gently squeezing both your hands now.

"Hm?"

"Can I ask you something?"

"Yeah?"

He slightly smirks, lips glistening with your saliva, "Did you really wanna educate me on kissing, or did you just wanna kiss me?" he asks. Damn that sharp intuition.

"If the latter, how would you feel about that...?" you ask tentatively.

His heart thumps. Throbs. Palpitates. Malfunctions. You look so sweet, he wants to kiss you again and again.

He doesn't answer with words, he just dives back in for a feathery kiss, tangling his body with yours. Hands cupping your cheeks, in a very indescribably Armin kind of way.

He speaks in between each smooch.

" 'shoulda — kissed me — sooner." he mutters, taking a deep inhale as he kisses you harder than before, leaning into your body, cupping your cheeks so comfortably.

#♥️ 𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐈𝐍 — アルミン #fluff #armin #armin arlert #armin x reader #armin arlert x reader #armin x y/n #armin x you #armin fluff #prompts #armin aot #shingeki no kyojin #fic #fanfic #aot fanfic #aot x reader #armin x fem reader

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lolathestoryteller · 22 days

Text

kisses and quarrels (April 5th prompt; Laugh) @jilymicrofics

I’m back with another everybody lives au drabble (which kinda ended up being a bit longer than intended); Jily, little Harry & uncle Padfoot! read below :)

„We‘re heading out!“ Lily calls out from the entrance hall.

There’s cluttering coming from the kitchen, before James and Sirius step out into the hallway, both their faces smudged with flour.

“Have fun— wow, Harry! Mate you…look like a puffskein.” Sirius cackles, before looking at Lily. “How many layers‘s he wearing?”

“It’s cold out, alright? I’d like for my son not to turn into an ice cube.”

“Yeah,” Sirius chuckles. “He definitely won’t freeze…might float away though, won’t you? Just like a ballon!”

Harry, who’s been busy walking up to his Dad, giggles happily at his godfather’s funny face.

“Hilarious.” Lily says dryly.

Sirius‘ smile turns into a smirk at once, making her instantly regret her choice of words. “It’s Sirius, actually.” he states smugly, before he and James dissolve into laughter.

Lily tries her very best not to smile as she strides over to collect Harry from James’s arms. “Sometimes I really think I should question my choices,” she says teasingly, glancing up at James. “Marrying such a jester.”

“Oi!” James complains, before leaning closer to her face. “You love this jester.” he smiles, and Lily, despite her efforts, blushes. “Yeah…” she replies softly. “I’m afraid I do.”

She leans closer, until her lips brush his, closing her eyes as they share a gentle kiss.

Sirius’ groan makes them part after only a moment though, and both of them chuckle as they notice his overly dramatic frown.

“Ugh,” he whines. “Please, my eyes!“

“Sod off, Padfoot.” James laughs, bumping his friends’ shoulder, before kissing Lily again — loudly this time, and with way too much of a grin on his face.

Lily rolls her eyes, but all too gladly allows for Sirius to dramatically gag as she kisses him back — that is until they’re, once again, interrupted, this time by a small pair of hands, pushing their faces apart.

“No.“ Harry protests, with an expression that so perfectly and very unfortunately mimics that of his godfather. “Gwoss.”

Sirius barks a laugh, one that only increases as he spots James‘ dumbfounded expression.

“Did our two year old just say we’re gross?”

“Sorry mate, you’re officially embarrassing your kid. The pleasures of parenthood, right?” Sirius jokes, slapping James on the back.

Lily sighs, hiding her amusement behind a raised eyebrow. “He’s not embarrassed,” she says as she adjusts a squirmy Harry on her hip. “Right Harry? You aren’t embarrassed of us?” she asks sweetly, nuzzling his cheek. “Maybe a little of Dada…”

“Lily!” James cries dramatically. “You’re supposed to be on my side here!��

“Of course I am, dear,“ she replies with a nonchalant shrug. “It’s just fun to tease you.”

“Yeah, yeah…” James rolls his eyes, though with a warm smile on his lips. “Go on now, we’ll have dinner ready when you come back, I hope.”

Lily is doubtful they would, at least not without magical help and some healing charms. “Just promise me you won’t blow up our kitchen again.” she replies pointedly.

“I will make no such promises.” Sirius replies cheekily.

“We’ll manage,” James says genuinely. “Promise.“

Lily smiles, before turning her attention back to the toddler currently wiggling about in her arms. “Yes, yes, I know,” she says as she bends down to let Harry walk by himself. “You wanna go now, don’t you?”

She waves at the boys once more before taking Harry’s little hand into hers. „Harry, say bye bye to Daddy and Sirius.“

Harry nods excitedly, raising a little hand to wave at the men. „Bye bye!“

„Have fun with Mummy, Snitch!“ James waves back.

„And don’t float away!“ comes Sirius‘ reply, earning another giggle from the toddler.

Lily can only roll her eyes as she guides Harry outside. „Your uncle Padfoot is a bit silly sometimes, hm?“

„Funny!“ Harry replies happily, as if trying to correct her.

Oh dear, Lily thinks, glancing at her son with a soft smile on her lips, he’s the son of a Marauder alright.

#jily microfic #jily lives #jily #harry potter #baby harry potter #sirius black #prongs and padfoot #writing #fanfiction #everybody lives #after the first war

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leggerefiore · 3 months

Note

Random though but Sawsbuck Ingo and Emmet getting their antlers stuck during and antler fight

cw: sawsbuck submas,

pairing: Ingo/Reader,

▲▽▲▽▲▽▲▽▲▽▲

Ingo grunted as he tried to pull himself back from Emmet. This caused the younger twin to cry out and make him freeze in the middle of his step. A few more tentative tugs of his head proved fruitless, as did Emmet's own. The Sawsbuck hybrids had heard of situations like this before but really never expected to find themselves in it. It was a simple tussle. Emmet had mostly started it because he was bored.

Now they were stuck.

It really hurt to have their necks stuck in that position, but pulling away caused more pain for both of them. Emmet's smile had fallen as it seemed to shift into a more contemplative state. Ingo felt annoyed. He was the older brother. He should have told him no and stopped this from ever being a possibility. Yet, somewhere, he enjoyed messing around much like they used to during their Deerling days. A sigh left him. Reaching a hand proved not to work either.

“Are we going to die?” Emmet spoke unexpectedly, eyes looking at the ground. Now Ingo felt worse.

“No,” he reassured him, “We'll get out of this. It might… just take some time. Let's stay calm for now.” The words appeared to have soothed the younger twin, as Ingo thought about other ways to get out. Breaking an antler would not be preferred, but between that or dying. Ingo wanted to groan. He would be the one losing an antler, he knew. The idea of causing Emmet that much distress upset him greatly.

Just as he was about to propose that suggestion when a familiar voice called out their names. They both tried to turn their head in the direction it came from in sync, but the tugging led to more pain, so they both froze and nearly fell. You broke out of the tree line moments later, a bit stunned to see the deer men in their predicament.

Ingo felt embarrassment pang in his heart at your expression, while Emmet suddenly turned frustrated, upset by being seen in such a vulnerable state. A small laugh came from you as you stepped closer to them. They were certainly interlocked. A joke to call them conjoined crossed your mind, but you held back. Instead, you asked them what happened and listened to Ingo's bereft explanation. An urge to scold them also had to be repressed.

Reaching a careful hand into the mess of wooden antler, you carefully worked to undo the mess the two had themselves into. Many complaints were vocalised or whined as you tried to work in a manner that hurt them as little as possible. Eventually, they pulled back from one another, not having lost a bit of their extensive growth. Emmet almost instantly trotted off, clearly too embarrassed to face you, while Ingo laid down on the grass to regain himself.

Your kindness had truly saved them a lot more pain. He gazed at you gratefully. “Thank you, dearest,” Ingo spoke genuinely and lightly clapped his hands, “I was about to suggest that I break one of the antlers to free us, but you came just before I could.” Your expression shifted into a pout. A quick stride over to him had you cupping and squishing his cheeks.

“You and your self-sacrificing nature,” you shook your head, “Stop that. Emmet would have felt bad, and you know it.” Ingo's heart raced. Why his younger brother surely would have felt bad, it would have been for the greater good for both of them. “And besides, you two like to match. He'd probably end up breaking off some of his antlers to mimic you.” Ingo gasped. He surely would not! There was no need.

Though, upon considering it… Ingo sighed. He would. Emmet absolutely would.

“Yes, yes… I'm sorry,” he nodded, “Next time, I intend to prevent the situation of his becoming locked up from happening in the first place. No more battling.”

You truly wondered how long that would last.

“Are you feeling okay now, Emmy?” you asked the Sawsbuck hybrid after he returned to your cabin by the evening. He still seemed a bit upset, but mostly in a better mood. You offered him a doughnut and giggled when he eagerly snatched it away and ate it. His mood perked even more up as he suddenly whisked you into a hug.

“I'm verrrry sorry you had to see us like that!” he whined, “We made you upset. You looked so hurt.” You sighed and returned the affection to the poor guy. Was that really it? It appeared to be embarrassment, but…

“It's alright,” you reassured him, “I'm just glad you two were fine in the end.” Emmet nodded quietly yet refused to let you go. You decided to let him have this for a while.

Until Ingo popped out of cabin, wanting to cuddle up to you for the night.

#pokemon x reader #ingo x reader #pokemon ingo x reader #ingo/reader #pokemon/reader

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sparrowrye · 1 month

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Demi Demon || Alastor x Reader, A2 part 15

Synopsis: It’s been over a year since we were brought under Alastor’s watchful eye. We’ve unlocked our Demonic powers, discovered our own talents, and began building the Safe Haven with Charlie and co. Alastor seems increasingly interested in the power we hold as one and intends to use it properly.

Previous part

Part 15: new terms

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

I quickly discovered Alastor's distaste for being ignored.

After the stunt he pulled with my blood, I was determined to keep my distance. He attempted conversation multiple times but I responded with a short answer or a shrug. He attempted to ask what was wrong but that made me further upset. For being soulmates, he sucked at realizing which of his many actions pissed me off.

After the second day, I noticed a lack of meat in the fridge. Before my cravings turned dangerous, I knew I had to pay him a visit. I had to do it with a clear head so I had to do it soon. I hoped the craving I felt was the usual and not the one for his blood.

I gave myself until the third day. I waited in the hallway outside his office, making sure to keep his broadcast from reaching my ears through the door. I didn't want to hear the screams of his trapped souls and dangerous threats. I needed to have confidence to face him.

I was examining my claws, world still silent, when the door opened. My senses came running back as I looked up to meet his grin. "Are you finally gracing me with your presence?" he mused.

"I want to talk."

"Then come in, darling." He held the door open and motioned with his other hand. The hair on my arms and neck stood up. It felt like I was walking right into a spider's web or a wolf's den.

I swallowed, then pushed off the wall. The room was darker than the rest of the house. It grew even darker when he closed the door behind me. I felt trapped, immediately regretting to come in rather than talk in the hallway.

"Come sit, dear." He motioned to the one chair at the fireplace and seated himself in his desk chair. He sat back, legs crossed, and leaned his cheek on his knuckles. His eyes never left me. "Tell me, why the abrasive attitude as of late?"

"I don't appreciate what you did the other night."

"I take it you don't appreciate much of what I do. You'll need to be specific."

This was the type of Alastor I hated dealing with, the type that I had fought against when I first came here.

I tried to mimic his position by leaning into my chair and resting my elbow on the arm of it. I gently brushed my fingers along the part of my neck where he had sank his teeth into three days ago. He lifted his eyebrows but said nothing. He was going to make me say it.

"I didn't appreciate the way you...the way you took my blood a few days ago," I managed. My composure was nothing like his but I tried to tell myself this was practice.

"Is that the only reason you've been avoiding me?" he inquired. He sat up and let his hand fall in his lap. The way he sat wasn't aggressive or intimidating, but graceful and relaxed. It was a stark contrast to his tone, making it confusing on how I should be responding.

"That's reason enough," I tried with a firm tone.

"So you're not bothered by how I retrieved my information from Blackwater's man?"

"I...what?"

"I was fully aware you were watching from my eyes. I was quite impressed you had managed to do it on your own from such a distance." He nodded his head with a smirk.

"I didn't...I..." I looked down at my claws. I didn't know he could feel me when I was watching. Yet that wasn't why I was confused. I hadn't been disturbed by the way he wrenched the man's soul out of his body. Was that because I was inside Alastor's mind, though? Thinking like him? Surely that was it. "We're getting off track."

"Indeed. Where were we?"

"The stunt you pulled three days ago."

"When I tasted your blood?"

"Yes." I leaned forward in the chair, ears back. "It hurt and you almost killed me."

"I may have taken more than necessary, but I wasn't going to kill you. It puts a strain on our bond when you're close to death."

"I didn't like the way you did it." I enunciated the last few words.

"It was the easiest and most efficient way," he said in a matter of fact tone. "Even you know the cravings can cloud your judgement."

"You didn't need to bite my neck. My arm would've been better."

"You have yet to accept the nature of your diet. I was attempting to give you space before I asked. Unless, of course, you want to make this more frequent..." he tapped his fingers individually on his knee, trailing his words at the end.

"You think this is funny."

"Amusing is a better word."

I abruptly stood. I kept the distance but standing higher than him gave me just an ounce of confidence. The way his eyes looked up at me sent a funny feeling through my chest. "I'm telling you now, it's a new boundary. Don't do it again."

My tail whisked behind me as I went to the door, eager to leave the confined space. His claws caught the end of my tail and tugged. I spun, my sharp dagger-filled eyes instantly losing their ferocity when he pushed my chin up with the back of his hand.

"Then how would you like to do it, darling?" The name rolled of his tongue and nailed my feet into the floor. I found myself unable to look away from his red eyes. The heat moved up from my chest and settled in my cheeks. "Come now, dear, tell me." He ever so lightly tapped his thumb on my chin.

"I..." I fell silent, completely unable to answer. I had forgotten what he even asked. He rubbed his claws on my tail and I pulled it out of his grip, finally having something to act upon.

His hand moved from my chin, over my shoulder, and snaked down to my wrist. He pulled it up to his mouth, breath fanning across my skin. "Would you prefer here?" Before I could answer he pulled my wrist higher, stretching my arm and forcing me take a step closer. "Perhaps here instead?" His lips brushed against my forearm.

It was hard to swallow. My throat was dry and my breathing was shallow, but for once not from his magic. I wanted to run but I couldn't let him win. He couldn't scare me anymore. I could go toe to toe with him. At least, I was trying.

I ripped my hand from his grip. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"You didn't like how we did it last time. I am merely asking for clarification." He put a hand on his chest with a fake pained look.

"That's not what you're doing and you know that." I pointed an accusatory finger at him.

"What exactly am I doing, then?" He tilted his head to the side. Embarrassment and anger boiled together. I turned for the door handle but he wrapped his claws around the underside of my wrist. It wasn't restricting but there was pressure. "Did you come in here in an attempt to scold me, or were you looking to satisfy something of your own?"

"It's not that bad yet." I let go of the handle to pull my hand away but his claws stayed wrapped around it, following it to where I held it over my chest. His presence was sitting on the outside of my shields, our energy bouncing between us. My hands had already begun to sweat.

"You are torturing yourself, dear." I watched his boots shift so they were closer to my foot claws. "Waiting until you're desperate and in pain. I reckon if you had more of my blood, you wouldn't need any Human's or Demon's blood again." He leaned closer, his chest nearly touching my back.

No more cannibalism, I realized. All I had to do was swallow the embarrassment and my own pride. Could I do that? He was having fun because it made me uncomfortable and embarrassed. If I treated it like it was nothing, maybe he would grow tired and stop the tormenting and teasing. The only problem was the act of taking blood hurt.

"What do you say, dear?" His radio filter was gone as he whispered in my ear. His other hand slipped into the one at my side and interlocked our fingers. His presence backed away from my mind while he closed the physical distance and pressed his chest against my back. I leaned into him, drawn in by his warmth, and stared down at his red claws still around my wrist.

"Okay."

"Okay what?" he pressed gently, filter still off.

"I'll take your blood instead."

"Only if you allow me to do the same. I will be more gentle next time."

"Okay."

"So it's a deal?" Filter back on. My nose scrunched in a snarl and I tried to pull my hand free from his clasped one. He squeezed tightly, refusing to let go. He took a sharp step forward and my arm near my chest barely had time to catch myself on the door. He was still holding onto that wrist.

"I already made a deal with you." I tried pushing against him but he pushed back harder. My forehead was only an inch from the door.

"You can make multiple deals with someone," he said lightly. "Besides, it only strengthens our bond further."

"And gives you the power you want. I'm not doing that." I tried pulling my hand free again but his grip was relentless and unmoving. His body was wrapping around mine and my chest heaved from my panicked breaths.

"I crave your blood just as much as you crave mine," he said next. "This is a means to ensure I don't lose such a delicate. The strengthen of our bond is merely an added bonus." His hair brushed against my neck as his face was completely side by side with mine. I couldn't control my erratic breathing. "Surely you don't wish to continue eating dead victims."

My arm was growing tired from holding the two of us up. I needed to breathe. Just once. "But why make it a deal?" I cursed myself as my voice pitched into a high whine.

"It prevents you from backing out."

I brought one knee up to the door and tried pushing again. "The fact that I would want to should cause concern on your part."

"It does not." His voice hardened. "You have fleeting emotions when it comes to your nature as a Demon. You are inconsistent."

"I have a right to be. A lot has changed for me."

"You have admitted to be inconsistent. Now you see why a deal would ensure you are consistent. I require your blood as much as you require mine, and I do not wish to argue each and every time."

I fell silent. He got me.

I lowered my leg and gave way with my sore arm. His presence gradually came back to the edges of my mind while his body inched away. I drew in a deep breath and slowly let it out.

"So do we have a deal?" he asked again, quieter and softer.

I took my time, taking another slow, self-assured breath. "We take each other's blood when needed, but you must ask first."

I heard a quiet, terrifying snarl in my ear. "Deal." I felt the binding magic ignite from our already clasped hands. It wound its way up my arm and surrounded my heart. It ventured out to the rest of my body like a slow burn of electricity. It momentarily closed my throat and I drew in a sharp gasp when it passed.

It was quiet in the room now. I slowed my breathing and tried to relax my muscles. Alastor peeled his claws off my skin and stood up. His claw came back down on my shoulder a second later, gently turning me to face him. I leaned against the door for support.

He brushed the back of his hand across my cheek. "Now then, do you have something you'd like to ask me?"

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

Author's Note:

mmm....tasty....

#demi demon #alastor the radio demon #alastor x reader #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel #soulmate au #soulmates #reqs open

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munsonsprettygirl · 2 years

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eddie teaching innocent!reader how to kiss :") inspired by ur most recent reblog that had my heart a flutterin

holy shit this might be terrible I got a little carried away and ditched the plot ahem---

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

“c’mere, angel.” eddie purrs and pats at the top of his thighs. his girl moves across his bedroom and lowers herself onto his lap, wiggling around until she was facing him. eddie grins and squeezes around her waist. he would hug her for a bit, dote over her until she was pushing his hands away. she would look so incredibly cute with her cheeks red and the blushy tip of her nose curled up.

eddies heart would clench up and the blood would rush to his cheeks. “can i have a kiss, sweetheart?” he would ask it so calmly but he’s going crazy inside, waiting for her to say no and run off in disgust. instead, she giggles. she fucking giggles!

babygirl leans forward and purses her lips, leaving a delicate kiss on the corner of his mouth. it’s her first kiss besides the simple ones she’s shared with her friends and relatives. she leans back and admires the smudge of lip gloss sticking to him.

she smiles and wipes it away with her fingers.

“sorry!” she quips realizing how soft eddie’s lips are under her fingers and she lets them linger there for longer than she had intended. “your lips are super soft.” she murmurs, little mouth falling open as she prods around curiously, admiring the way the undersides of them were glossy with spit.

eddie twists his head at her curiosity and he clears his throat as he shuffles around. she’s pressing the pads of her pointer finger into his lips and she kisses him again, barely brushing her lips against his. the action is full of innocence and eddie feels himself beginning to throb. could this be...?

“baby...” he begins with her fingers still on his mouth. he aches to take one between his lips and suck it until it’s pruned from spit.

“hmm?”

“is this... erm-” he coughs awkwardly again but she pays no mind, eyes still focused on his mouth. “was that your first kiss with someone like... romantically?”

she takes her bottom lip into her mouth and pulls her legs up into his lap. her fingers on his lips still and he curses himself for bringing it up in the first place. “yes.” she answers with a quiet voice followed with; “is that bad?”

fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck. “no! no it’s not bad at all i just— wasn’t expecting that.” he presses his thumb into the flesh of her hip and rubs tender circles there. “you’re so beautiful i would’ve thought every guy was trying to jump down your throat.”

“nobody’s ever wanted to be like that with me.” she answers him with a detectable note of disappointment in her voice.

“nobody?” eddie asks, shocked.

“nobody.” her frown deepens and eddie mimics her. “i’m sorry.”

“why are you sorry, sweetheart?” eddie asks and pinches her chin, forcing her to look at him. “what do you have to be sorry for hmm?”

“that i’ve never kissed anybody before.”

“that’s nothing for you to be sorry about, honey.” eddie combs his fingers through her hair, a smirk quipping the corners of his lips. “but you know…” he lets his fingers linger at the sensitive spot behind her ear where her perfume rises so sweetly. “we could always change that.”

“how would we do that?”

“well i would teach you.” he watches her consider it for a moment while her fingers play with the guitar pick at his neck. her eyes meet his and he catches a meek nod. “gonna need a yes, sweet girl.”

“yes… yes i want you to teach me.”

a grin splits across his face and eddie feels his dick swelling up in anticipation. “you’re adorable, you know that?” he coos, readjusting her on his lap so she’s straddling his hips. “go head and open that little mouth for me.” eddie hums and she follows his instruction. “stick out your tongue— ahhhhh, there you go.” he holds her jaw in the junction between his thumb and pointer finger and rolls her head around, looking into the glossy depths of her candy-pink mouth. “good girl, now i’m going to go first and then you’ll copy me after, okay?”

she nods eagerly, wiggling up eddie’s lap to get closer to him. she watches with a hazy glaze as his tongue slips from his mouth and runs up against hers. then it’s filling her mouth and licking around her mouth and she whines, long and sweet from the back of her throat. eddie pulls his tongue back and kisses around her lips.

“ready to try, sweetheart?”

y/n nods and waits for eddie to stick his tongue out before she leans in and does the same. runs her tongue up his before slotting it inside. she doesn’t fill him up as much but it leaves her more room to move around. She kitten licks at the inside of his mouth, finding the spots that make him whimper, the spots that breathe heavily, the ones that make him groan and his throat vibrates, coming up to where she’s kissing him and she smiles. when she pulls back there’s drool at the edge of her lip and eddie wipes it away with his thumb.

“fuck, girl. you’re going to kill me, you know?”

“was i good?”

“god, you’re perfect.” eddie kisses her again and y/n rolls her hips forward, eliciting another groan from him. “but I think we should practice a little more just to make sure.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie x reader #perv!eddie #kinda #writings

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lolitafushiguro · 11 months

Text

Force Feeding Zhongli Seafood (Zhongli x Reader ft. Venti)

Lolita's note: yes i know, the title is quite misleading but bare with me because i'm having a manic episode and the form of art i chose to abuse tonight is writing.

"Today's lunch is... creamy garlic shrimp pasta!" You beamed at the two guests you have sitting in your dining room. Suddenly the loud voices that you heard from the kitchen halted. You saw Venti look at you with a mix of surprise and disbelief as he holds back a laughter while he glances at Zhongli - who is quite flabbergasted at your choice of dish as well.

Quite isn't the right word honestly. He is about to break into cold sweat and grimace at the food right in front of him. But he does his best to keep his cool and smile at you.

"Ohoho~ Somebody is about to get hit in the jugular." Venti snickers, as he looks at you expectantly.

The thing is you already know Zhongli despises seafood. But you wanted to try something out today. You want to find out what he's like in the face of something he doesn't love. You prepared yourself for an argument, him lecturing you - anything. You're so used to him being so doting on you that you can practically order him to bend the laws of nature and he would do so without a second thought.

"My love... what is this?" He asked, a blank expression in his eyes. You can't tell if he's making sure he sees it right or he's questioning you.

"Garlic shrimp pasta, your favorite!" You repeat again, and Venti almost choked on the cocktail he's drinking.

"Hahaha! There it goes. What do you say, old friend? Are you ready to take the challenge?" Venti elbows Zhongli's arm and winks at him, and his brow twitches as he shoots a glare back at the Anemo Archon.

"Shut it, Barbatos." He snaps at him, clearly growing unamused by the minute. He looks back at you and smiles flatly,

"Dear, you know I have made you aware that I do not eat seafood?"

You feign innocence and you shrug, and Venti covers his mouth, holding back his laughter (to which he obviously fails, and that irritates Zhongli even more).

You don't know if you should laugh or keep it together, because Venti's presence makes this even more trivial than you intended it to be.

You set down the dish and watch them help themselves to a portion of the food. Venti immediately digs in and takes a huge sip of his cocktail.

"Fwah! That hits the spot. You know, this is going to be my new favorite. I bet this would go well with apple pie." Venti almost mockingly voices his appreciation, as if to get a reaction from the former Geo Archon.

You smile at them both, and you waited for Zhongli to take his first bite. You notice how Zhongli keeps the shrimps at the side of his plate and only eats the pasta. He thinks he's getting away with it until you ask him,

"Are you not gonna eat the shrimps?" Part of you just wants to stop this whole thing already, but you were determined to get to the end of this. You wanted to see him eat the shrimps, at least this once in your feeble mortal life.

"Yeah, they are so juicy and delicious, right?" Venti agrees, again, holding back a smile. And you both shared a look.

"I... this is delicious, yes, but, I do not eat seafood." Zhongli finally replies, smiling apologetically - as if he's begging you to let this go.

You smile and you walk over to sit beside him. You take a spoon and begin crushing the shrimps so that it would be at least bearable for him.

"Here, say 'Ahh'." You motion at him, and Venti finally goes from having a fit of giggles to having a full blown laughter.

"'Say Ahh'." He mimics you, and looks at Zhongli, who's slightly avoiding the spoon that your holding.

"I can't believe you're doing this. I mean, look at him, he practically has his mouth shut tight at this point and he looks like a spoiled kid who doesn't want his shrimpies." Venti laughs and finishes his drink, grabbing another portion of the shrimp pasta.

"It is not shrimpies...!" Zhongli almost whines, a scowl now evident on his face, and you and Venti both pause.

Zhongli has a visible pout in his face.

Indeed, it is a sight you should put in a picture frame.

But in a matter of seconds, the former archon redeems himself, clearing his throat.

"What are you trying to get out of me, you two?" He sighs as he gives in, opening his mouth to eat the spoonful of crushed shrimp.

Venti shrugs and tilts his head towards you.

"Dunno, ask them. I'm just following their lead." And at that, you raised a brow, and he laughs.

"I believe I expect a reason for this." Zhongli wipes his lips with a napkin and drinks from the glass of wine. He groaned at the aftertaste. Well, it certainly didn't cleanse his palate as he expected.

"Zhongli, I'm sorry I just-" He was about to give you an earful when Venti chimed in.

"You two are a straaange couple, indeed." Venti smiled. Zhongli closed his eyes, his breath hitching as he did his best not to lash out at Venti.

He heaves an exasperated sigh as he pinches the bridge of his nose.

"See, that's what you get for being too doting. They probably did this to piss you off." Venti comments.

Before the silence gets too awkward, Venti takes his leave.

"Welp, I'm outta here. Thanks for the lunch! I enjoyed it very much~" Venti waves at the both of you. You mouthed a 'sorry' and smiled at him as he left. When Zhongli wasn't looking, he waved his index finger, silently telling you how much you pissed him off.

"Sorry, this won't happen again, I promise." You placed your hand on top of his and Zhongli begins to lecture you again about how he used to battle enemies at the sea and how seafood reminds him of all the bloodshed it caused.

He said your name firmly, "I love and respect you. You know that. We've talked a lot about our likes and dislikes, and we confide to each other. So, please, don't do this again." Zhongli looks at you.

"I'm sorry."

He kisses your cheek and smiles at you.

"Apology accepted."

Later in the evening, as if the mischievousness of Venti possessed you,

"Hey." You began to tiptoe behind Zhongli while he was getting ready for bed.

"How was the shrimp?" You snickered. He sighs.

"What was it again? Shrimpies?" You tease again.

"Oh, my love, whatever shall I do with you... it seems that the fickleness of a certain visitor has stayed with you today." He turns to you, and he suddenly holds you close.

Before you could protest, you're trapped in his grip and he peppers kisses on your face.

"You made a strange choice today, my love. What do you think we should do about it?" He lays you down on the bed and starts acting more suggestively, his kisses growing more... irresistible.

"W-wait-"

— Lolita

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testingthewatersss · 4 months

Text

Are you my Captain? Trigger warnings for PTSD, mentions of war, arguing, etc. Protective Steve is lowkey an asshole. Bucky Barnes x F Reader Chapter 1 3700 words fluff, angst, tension, comfort. 18+ MDNI

You each tell your own friends. That was the deal you made with Bucky when you finally got together. A year later and he's finally figuring out why you'd been so sure that you'd gotten the better part of the deal with Tony.

“So what exactly were you planning on doing?”

Steve’s voice is measured, even though she thinks the accusatory edge in his words rings through regardless.

“Clearly” Natasha cuts in, “she wasn’t planning anything, she was-”

Y/N’s glare silences her.

“Are you my Captain, Steve?” she asks, speaking for the first time.

“What?” Steve counters, folding his arms, “I’m -“

“I know you’re a captain” Y/N says, “I asked if you were mine specifically. Are you my Captain, right now?”

“No, but-”

“No-” she agrees, pushing up from her desk, “so why on earth would I tell you anything about my the status of any missions I may or may not be involved in?”

The woman is standing now, staring him down as though they’re the only two people in the room.

“Because Bucky—”

“Because Bucky” she mimics with a cold laugh, “Are you his Captain?”

Now he looks hurt. For a moment, she almost feels bad about the mocking tone she’s using, but then, Natasha chuckles from her place in the corner.

“He doesn’t have a Captain, Y/N/N” Steve says, trying not to sound too upset, “I’m just-”

“Concerned.” Natasha interrupts, taking pity on the man, “He’s worried that Barnes is being drafted by SHEILD”

“By me, you mean” Y/N challenges, staring the other woman down, now too.

“You’re the acting director” she replies, not denying her statement, “If anyone was going to bring him in—”

“Then wouldn’t that be his business?”

“So he is-” Steve bursts, unable to hold back

“Have you tried asking him?” Y/N cuts in, patience waning now, “Or did you just decide to come straight to my office and interrogate me?”

Her voice is shaper than even she’d intended, she realises when Steve flinches, biting his cheek and totally averting his gaze.

“Don’t be like that” Natasha sighs, “Of course he’s asked him. We both have.”

“He’s not giving a straight answer” Steve says, sounding almost desperate, “Please, just tell me—”

“No.”

“No?” he repeats, trying to figure out if it’s an answer to his question or his request.

“Steve,” she says calmly — “I’m sorry, but it’s really none of your business.”

“He’s my best-”

“I know” she allows, raising her palms in surrender, “I know you’re basically brothers, I get that, I do, but it doesn’t matter— I am your friend— truly, I am, and I know that I’m the acting director here but no matter how much I like you, I am not in a position to disclose any confidential information about upcoming interventions-” she watches his open his mouth to interrupt, “-or, who may, or may not be going on them, especially without the consent of said person.”

The pause that follows her statement is tense. Natasha breaks it, smiling;

“Alright,” she allows, “Can you at least tell us if you’re going on any upcoming jobs?”

Y/N laughs at that, looking almost proud before shooting her eyes to the door, trying her best to highlight the lack of privacy their interaction is being afforded.

“Yes.” she answers, “I am.”

Steve doesn’t look appeased. If anything he looks even more frustrated than he had when he’d turned up outside her door half an hour earlier.

Natasha, on the other hand, seems to understand the situation perfectly well. She gives her friend a gracious nod and leads the pouting blonde out of the room in silence.

Y/N assumes she’s getting an earful on their trip back to the tower, but since she’d allowed him to come and bother her in the middle of the day, her sympathy is fleeting.

Bucky appears next, knocking twice before walking into her office and locking himself inside.

She barely looks up from her papers, she knows it’s him anyway.

“Stevie’s pissed” he declares, sitting across from her, on a large leather chair, ignoring the way it creaks in protest, “he keeps asking me about next week, doll— he wants to know if I have any plans.”

He thinks her laugh is musical. As he watches her chewing on her pen, absentmindedly flicking through a folder with practised fingers, he can’t help but think about how utterly, totally, in love with her he is.

“What did you tell him?” she says, finally looking up at him.

He’s blushing like a teenager. Cheeks burning hot.

“That I might be goin’ out of town”

She treats him to another laugh. He grins at his lap, bashful.

“Bet he loved that” Y/N says, picturing his dismay, “That’s probably why he showed up with Romanoff”

His eyes snap up then, sweet-natured embarrassment forgotten in favour of genuine surprise;

“I told him that since he is not currently your commanding officer, I’m not in a position to disclose anything you may or may not be working on, on behalf of SHEILD”

It’s his turn to chuckle now. Gruff and boyish as he paws at his chin with metal fingers.

“Y’know,” he says, breaking the comfortable silence, “I think he might be”

“What?” Y/N asks, distracted by a lab report, “he might be what?”

“My commanding officer” Bucky clarifies, “He was, anyway, back in the forties—“

“I think he was released from those duties when you died in combat”

He scoffs at that, looking at her with an expression she can only classify as adoring.

“I didn’t die…” he says, flicking a balled-up scrap of paper at her wrist, “…did, I, doll?”

“No” she allows, realising that he wants her attention, “what are you throwing at me, Barnes?”

She looks at the post-it note, unfolding it to see that it’s one of her own discarded scrawlings.

The oak desk is littered with them, she’s never been a tidy worker— like her brother, she favours organised chaos.

“throwing” he repeats sarcastically, “you’re real dramatic”

That part is said under his breath, but she hears it all the same.

She manages to aim the ball of paper at his face, laughing happily as it bounces off his nose, and landing in his lap.

“Do you want me to call him back here?” she asks, slipping out from behind the surface, “Since he’s still your Captain”

Bucky feels his head tilting back, leaning against the rim of the chair. His eyes are trained on her, on the way she’s moving around, to position her body just in front of his.

“I didn't say that” he says softly, “but he was— he was probably the last one you’d count anyway”

Y/N hums, reaching out to cup his cheek.

He relishes in the contact, as minor as it is, leaning into her palm before she lowers it to his shoulder, acutely aware of their location, and the likelihood of interruption.

“I’ll note that in your file” she teases, “Right next to ‘comes to my office at 4o’clock in the afternoon because he’s bored’…“

“It’s 9-” Bucky corrects calmly, “-You’ve been here all day, Y/N/N— It’s gettin’ dark out— Y’know your brother doesn’t like you drivin’ home at night”

She looks at her watch, and then, when she realises that he’s right, that time has probably gotten away from her, again she nods, lowering her hand to his.

There is a strange lack of background noise, considering how busy her floor normally is.

“So you weren’t just after some attention?”

“Sure I was” he admits with that same, love-sick look in his eyes, “but you know I try not to bother you at work…”

“You could never bother me” she’s quick to assure him, “I love your little visits, sweetheart”

Sweetheart.

Oh, god— he can feel his heart melting.

“You can always just call me” she adds, “You don’t need to come and prise me out of this building every time I get caught up in reports”

“I know” he agrees, “But like you said, doll— I wanted to see ya’, it— it’s been a few days since we’ve had any proper time together and I—”

He stops, inhaling as he brings the hand of hers he’s holding up to his mouth;

“I’ve missed you” he finishes, “So, when your brother asked me to swing by and bring ya’ home I jumped at the chance.”

Y/N smiles, stroking his chin.

“I love you too” she coos, “I’m sorry I’ve been so busy lately… I’ve just-”

“Don’t apologise” he says quietly, “I knew what I was signin’ up for… fallin’ for a modern dame-”

The boyish grin on his face makes her laugh, real and happy as she starts tracing his jaw with the fingers he’s not playing with.

“a modern dame” she clucks, “I guess that about some me up, huh?”

“Mhmm”

“I can’t leave any threads hanging, Buck” she sighs, nodding back towards the mess on her desk, “There are 2 left… 2 HYDRA bases in the continental US… after that, then we’ve at least chased em’ back to Russia-”

“The 2 you’re talkin’ about,” he says, tone even, “Are they the ones you you showed me?”

She nods, indulging his interest by moving so that the map, with the two bases, circled in red is visible.

He moves, effortlessly lifting her so that she’s sitting in his lap.

Y/N allows the adjustment, exhaling contentedly as he holds her against his front, metal fingers bringing the whole pile of papers closer into view.

“I’m sure this one was just a storage unit” he murmurs, tracing the dot in East Texas, “I don’t know how I know…” he allows, “But, all I see when I think about it, is just walls of containers… big, metal boxes and crates stacked up in the dark”

Y/N pecks a kiss to his head and lets him trail his finger across the map to the second area of interest.

“I don’t know what that is” he admits unhappily, “I recognised the others, darlin’— Even the Russian ones- Especially, the Russian ones, but that.. that one, must be new.”

She nods in agreement.

“It is,” she tells him, “Popped up on the radar about a month ago, we haven’t got much intel yet, it’s why I’m commissioning a reckon job and not a ‘completely destroy everythin’ job.”

“And you have to go?” he says, “you can’t send any-”

“It’s safer if I go” she purrs, knowing he hates it, “and it’s quicker, Buck— It’s much quicker if it’s just me, running in and out… No mess, no fuss— and at least I know what I’m lookin’ at— Which makes my job a whole lot easier than if I have to try and decipher a write up from an agent who’s never set foot near an operational base”

It makes sense. He thinks that’s the worst part. How rational her reasoning is.

“Smart” is the only comment he offers, not wanting to encourage her with any further praise, “One person, goin’ in quiet— it’s a good strategy, incase it isn’t empty”

“Don’t sound surprised” she teases, even though she thinks resigned is a more apt description of how he actually sounds, “I’m a Stark we’re supposed to be smart, and I’ve been an agent long enough to know a thing or two about strategy…”

He knows all that. He’s in a state of near-constant awe of her. Of her beauty, and her brilliance, and just… god, just.. her.

She is the most wonderful thing in his life, and the idea of her putting herself in dangerous situations is painful, no matter how well planned out they are.

“It won’t take long” Y/N says, as if to console him, “A day… maybe two, with travel, Buck— I’ll be back before you know it—”

“Please,” he says, ignoring the map, now, focusing all his attention on her face, on the way she’s looking down at him, brow furrowed with concern, “Please let me come, darlin’— I won’t, I won’t be able to take it if you leave me here alone”

“You won’t be alone,” she says, “Steve is here, and Natasha, and-”

“I’ll go mad,” he tells her, knowing it’s the truth, “Steve won’t be able to do a damn thing about it, because I’ll be locked in your room trying’ to convince myself that you’re not just some kind of hallucination I cooked up whilst I was still in a cryo-tank—”

She laughs softly, he thinks its sound is the most comforting sound in the world.

And then, her palm is on his brow, pressing gently over the skin as though she’s taking his temperature.

“I don’t think anyone as sweet as you could dream me up” she sighs, letting him alter their position so that he’s burying his face against her shoulder, “Baby, I just don’t want you anywhere near—”

“I know-” he cuts in, they’ve had this talk before, “-I know you’re worried ‘bout me, but I— I swear, doll, I’ll be better off with you than I will be in the tower. Even if it’s just a day without ya’, let alone a night, I— I won’t know you’re safe, not for sure and I won’t be able to handle it, I—“

She hushes him, carding his hair back with both hands and guiding his face up so that she can see him, properly. He really does look distraught.

“I don’t want you anywhere near a HYDRA base” she says calmly, “I want you safe, away from any kind of fight that might break out— Away from anythin’ that might hurt you”

He’s about to object, to tell her that he knows all of that, but that he’s serious, and that if she leaves him to go and infiltrate some kind of base where he can’t reach her, that’ll hurt him way more than any fight he’s ever been in—

“I don’t want you to come, Bucky—“ she sighs, “—But, I’m not your Captain, either.”

His blue eyes are wide, and she thinks she can physically see understanding flicker across them.

“Nobody gets to tell you what you can, or can’t do anymore” she says, “Not even me, so if you really want to come, then I’m not going to stop you, but you’ve got to promise me that you’ll stay back, that at most, you’ll watch the surveillance relay and call for back up if I need it-”

“Yes, ma’am” he swears, suddenly giddy with relief, “I’ll do whatever you tell me, I—”

“You’re not listening…” she chuckles, “…I’m not your boss, Buck— I am not giving you orders, I am just asking you to take care of yourself for me. If you insist on coming, then please…please stay somewhere where I know you’re safe, where I won’t have to worry about you gettin’ hurt—”

Seeing Y/N’s composure falter is strange. He knows she loves him. She tells him all the time, and despite himself, and all the reasons he can think of why she shouldn’t, he believes her.

and just like that, he gets it.

She’s going to get hurt trying to keep me safe, he realises, if I get too close all she’s going to do is panic about getting me home in one piece, and no amount of planning is going to matter.

“I swear,” he says seriously, “Y/N/N, I just want to be nearby, I— I just want to know you’re safe, I— I’ll stay back… I’ll stay wherever you think is best— I just can’t stay in that tower, with everyone buzzing around, when I don’t know for certain that you’re safe—”

Then, she nods, accepting his promise and tugging him in a fraction closer.

Bucky feels her letting out a soft sigh against his head, and feels his whole body starting to unfurl.

“So what are you going to tell Steve?” she wonders after a pause, “now you know you’re definitely goin’ to be out of town for a night?”

He chuckles, enjoying being able to relax for the first time since this mission thing had been broached in the first place.

“Well, I think the truth is off the table” he mumbles, “since it’d mean havin’ to explain that we’ve been together for almost a year and he hasn’t noticed-”

“…Almost a year…” she repeats, affectionate, “…that’s a real long time…”

“Best year of my life, doll”

The grin she offers him is blinding. He swears it makes his heart miss a whole beat in his chest.

“What do you wanna’ do to celebrate?” she asks, enjoying the look on his face “Tony offered to throw us a party but-”

“That might be a little loud” Bucky murmurs, “If you’d like somethin’ like that then I’d… I’d work it out, darlin’, but I-”

“I’ve already said no” she assures him, “Most of our friends don’t even know there’s anything to celebrate, Buck, it’d be a Stark affair through and through, and I have enough of those booked in for the rest of the decade.”

He tries to think of a way to explain that just being with her is more than he could dream of. That he doesn’t need any celebration, that she is his biggest celebration.

He can’t. The words won’t come, and he finds himself insanely grateful to be with her, now. To be with someone who doesn’t push him to speak when his throat just tightens.

“He had another suggestion…” Y/N soothes, stroking his cheek, “You know how we’ve just payed a bunch of money to renovate Dad’s old place?… Well it’s ready—It’s got a nice lake out back, it’s not too far from all the action, and it’s now fully kitted out with security tech. We could always go there for the weekend?”

“That,” he says, looking a little surprised, “That sounds real nice, Y/N/N”

“Yeah?” she coos, “I thought so too… and that’s not even the best part— He’s promised to cover my calls whilst we’re away, so we’ll get some real, uninterrupted time, huh? Just me and you— It’ll be nice to be off the grid, for awhile.”

Y/N had thought she’d seen him smiling earlier. She’d have said that he’d looked happy, then— if she hadn’t seen the way he’s beaming at her now.

His eyes are creased at the sides, and looks like his grin is going to split his face.

“I’ve been neglecting you, haven’t I, handsome?”

It’s not really a question. Nobody should be that happy to have some quality time with their partner.

It makes her feel strangely guilty. Especially when she remembers where they are, and the way that he’s come to personally drag her out of her office before she can fall asleep in there, again.

“No” he replies quietly, “You’re… You’re perfect…I’m… I’m a little, needy, doll I know I am, I’m workin’ on it but I-”

“You’re not needy” she corrects, “you’re long overdue some attention, Buck… You’re entitled to some fussin’ after spendin’ so long on your own.”

The sound he makes is somewhere between a scoff and a sigh. It makes her heartache in her chest.

“I’m sorry” she says, meaning it, “I know I’ve been caught up in work lately— I promise I’ll get better about—”

“—Don’t apologise—” Bucky cuts in, looking up at her, “—It’s your job, doll, and it’s important, and I know—”

“You’re important”

He’s so, so flattered by her words that all he can do is murmur out an “Oh, god” as his cheeks fill with colour.

and just like that, she no longer feels slightly guilty.

It’s like she’s been punched in the gut.

There’s nothing to distract her—She can see how exhausted he is. The hollows under his eyes are deep set, and dark. There’s a split in his lip that’s halfway healed, and he’s leaning obviously to his right, clearly trying to compensate for the tightness in his shoulder.

and it’s all her fault.

“When did you last sleep, baby?”

He blinks at her, expression suddenly muddled.

She lets her fingers tickle up and across his jaw, noting the subtle way he leans into the contact.

“I got a couple of hours last night” he whispers, swallowing a purr as she tucks a piece of his back behind his ear.

“a couple of hours?” she repeats, “When did you last get a whole night?”

“I’m not sure, darlin’…” he admits, nuzzling into her palm, “…It’s hard for me to settle sometimes when…when—“

“When I’m not there?” she guesses, already knowing that she’s right.

Bucky gives her a tightlipped smile, before pressing a kiss against her wrist.

He looks embarrassed, but only for a second. When he eventually nods, she thinks he seems more relieved than anything else.

She thinks that’s probably sadder.

“It’s not your fault” he’s quick to tell her, “I—”

“—You, are tired…” she says, “…and I, have been spending too much time at the office…”

“-No you hav-”

Y/N’s head shakes, silencing him.

“How many nights have I actually spent at home this week?”

He pauses, blinking considerately.

“I’m actually askin’…” she chuckles, “I’ve lost track of time all together”

“2-” Bucky tells her, nudging her palm with his nose, “-but, it—”

“2 out of 7” she clucks, “That’s bad, Buck, even for me.”

“It’s more like out of 9” he says, “but you asked about this week”

“Jesus” she grumbles, conceding to the way he’s so clearly trying to coax her hand back to his cheek, “Is that counting tonight as a write off?”

He shakes his head and smiles, relishing in the way her fingers are curling across his skin again.

“Well then… We better leave-” Y/N announces, “-2 out of 10 would be—“

“—Not even close to your personal best—” he laughs, even though he instantly stands, scooping the woman in his lap up with a playful flourish, “—doll, but you’re right, we better head back before Tony sends someone else to get ya’—“

“What a terrifying thought—” she teases, clutching his fingers as they start to walk out into the now deserted office building, “—have you eaten dinner yet?”

“No—” he tells her, hearing the distinctive click of Y/N’s security system sealing her office behind them, “— I Haven’t had much of an appetite”

That confession is fairly predictable, given the state he’s been in about the mission.

“Reckon you could eat something now?” she asks, tone blessedly un-judgemental, “We can swing by a burger joint— there are a dozen between here and the tower-”

“Whatever you want, doll”

x | 2 | 3

#bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barns x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes angst #bucky x you #bucky x female reader #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky fanfic #the winter soldier x you #fluff #x reader #drabble #series #BBareyoumycaptain

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mana-jjk · 20 days

Note

Do you think Inumaki has a lisp or some kind of bad pronunciation because hes used to saying a limited ammount of words? (Idk how those actually work lol)

omg hi anon !! 💞

this question has single handedly led me to vampire reddit and lisp quora and now i’m getting the weirdest recommendations in my emails (；ω；)

so i’m far from being a speech therapist, and this is based off of the little research that I’ve done and my own headcanons lol.

i think that if toge does have a lisp, it would be because of his fangs. vampire reddit has informed me very helpfully that due to fangs, the consonants in english would be limited due to how the teeth would interrupt the movement of lower lip. so f and v sounds might be impacted, however that is in english ! i am not entirely sure how it would translate to japanese.

i tried to mimic the words he uses, and can’t notice any movement that might be impacted in that case. but i also read that s sounds and th are likely to be slurred.

the only case in which we hear a slur is during this iconic scene -

i don’t think gege intended to convey that toge has a slur, more than likely this scene was a mixture of damage to his throat, blood loss, confusion, exhaustion, and hesitance. especially since they took his fangs away <\3

but canon is merely a suggestion to me lol

personally, i do think toge would have a slight speech impediment when combining his prominent fangs and lack of speech.

it’s a personal headcanon i have that toge’s clan limited his speech by limiting the language taught to him. he’s been speaking in his onigiri language since before he could remember and does have an understanding of his cursed speech. but if they wanted to limit accidents, it would be in limiting the words he knows.

the research i found also showed that if someone has difficulty interchanging with the t and d sound, it’s likely due to confusion. toge undoubtedly knows japanese, however he’s probably out of practice in speaking it outside of his cursed speech and safe words.

when you listen to him using both, his voice is very clear and particular in enunciating the sounds. in the case with yuuta, his voice was muffled, broken, and slurred. maybe even with a concussion that affected his speech.

so yes, i do think he has a slight impediment, but one that’s only noticeable when he speaks words outside of his cursed and safe vocabulary.

otherwise, everything he does is with clear intent, something you need to have when fostering something dangerous.

toge is probably aware of that, maybe even a little embarrassed of it. probably refrains from trying new words, partly because he doesn’t have the consistency or clarity to ensure there is no misinterpretation.

yuuta’s name was the exception, and continues to be the exception. he says it softly every time, and even though he could correct it, he doesn’t. saying it with a soft drop at the end seems to fit far better than the correct click of a t.

i’ve seen some interpretations of toge giving pet names to yuuta in the forms of potential safe words, but i think the way he says his name is the term of endearment.

the careful manner he sounds out in every syllable, the almost reverence he has, the quiet whisper of his voice as if it was meant for yuuta’s ears only.

there’s a gentleness to the cruelty of his circumstances, if only in the the way his words hold significance far beyond just any understanding.

any way, i think reddit thinks i want to be a vampire now and i’m just imagining yuuta googling this question and blushing at all the emphasis of fangs.

i hope this answered your question !! feel free to keep sending these asks so i can convey the full extent of my insanity <3 ! ( *｀ω´)

#inumaki toge #inuokko #yuuta okkotsu #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #ottoge

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lancermylove · 4 months

Text

Chapter 11 (N.SFW)

➣ Pairing: Demon brothers, Royals, Solomon with fem!Reader. ➣ Warning: N.SFW ➣ Word Count: 2,721 ➣ Chapters [SFW]: [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][8][9][10][11][12] ➣ Chapters [N.SFW]: [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][8][9][10][11][12]

➣ A/N: Merry Christmas Eve!

———————————————

Diavolo took a moment to reflect on what had transpired and sighed in resignation. The prince had hoped this day wouldn't come, but he knew he should have been more prepared as Lucifer was one of the sharpest demons he had met. As the gentle breeze danced over the crackled flames in the backyard firepit, he sighed heavily and steeled himself for Lucifer's verbal onslaught.

"As you are aware of what I wish to discuss with you, let us not waste any time with unnecessary pleasantries or trivialities," the Avatar of Pride began, folding his arms over his chest as he kept his piercing gaze firmly upon the prince. "For what reason did you not approach me directly? Furthermore, why have you brought (y/n) into this matter?"

"I did not intend to hurt you," Diavolo sighed heavily, not daring to meet his gaze. "I knew you would be devastated once you saw those letters."

"Would I have? I am aware of the difficulties my siblings present. However, their actions stem from their playful nature above all else - not the intention to bring suffering upon others," Lucifer spoke with a serious tone, his focus entirely on Diavolo even though the prince refused to meet his gaze. "You requested my obedience centuries prior in exchange for aiding Lilith and granting us a place in Devildom. I willingly accepted. Why did you not anticipate I would comply on this occasion?"

Diavolo's eyes widened as Lucifer posed the question, and he finally met the first brother's gaze. However, he remained silent, prompting Lucifer to continue. "What you have done behind my back can be seen as an act of betrayal; additionally, you have dragged (y/n) into it, aware that she would agree to assist you and, in turn, protect us. All said and done - I comprehend that your intention was not one of harm. For this reason, I cannot remain resentful."

"You are..." Diavolo's eyes widened, and a bright smile curled on his lips. "You are forgiving me?"

Diavolo suddenly threw his arms around Lucifer, who was taken aback but quickly collected himself. The Avatar of Pride cleared his throat in a manner that suggested he had had enough of the embrace. The prince chuckled and withdrew his arms, but seeing Lucifer's serious expression, Diavolo felt slightly uneasy.

"Henceforth, Diavolo, you are not to repeat this. Do not bring (y/n) into your plans behind my back," Lucifer sternly warned him. For a moment, the prince was surprised to hear his tone, as this was the first time the Avatar of Pride had used his manner of tone against him. Usually, the prince would not have taken kindly to this, but he gave a vigorous nod in this situation as it was his mistake.

"Then," Lucifer sighed in relief as he felt the weight of the suspense finally lift. If Diavolo or you had informed him sooner, he would not have spent the entirety of the vacation anxious about what you concealed from him. Now, he could focus his mind on other matters. "Shall we get inside? The weather is chiller than usual."

"Yes, let us return and rejoin the others," Diavolo smiled brightly. Upon entering the living room, Levi prodded the first brother's arm while Beel poked Lucifer's other arm to mimic the Avatar of Envy. Lucifer raised a brow in response, whereas their antics baffled the Prince of Devildom.

"Are you still possessed?" Levi asked with a chuckle.

"Hey, if you are, can I've your credit card?" Mammon beamed, stretching his hand out in anticipation.

"How about a pact with me?" Solomon said with an unusually charming smile.

"And I will take a hug!" Asmo giggled.

The Avatar of Pride cast a vacant stare at his brothers and scowled with intense disapproval towards them, causing a chilling sensation to penetrate deep into their very souls. The brothers swiftly backed away and put on a façade of innocence, gazing around as if they had not said a word to Lucifer. However, Mammon opted to change the conversation's topic.

"Haha...we're just jokin'. Hey, ya guys wanna see somethin' cool? (Y/n) and I found this cave. There's a place in worth seein'. It looks like a location straight outta a movie."

"That sounds quite exciting! Shall we also explore the woods? We have yet to uncover the hidden wonders within." The prince proposed, excited at the prospect of an adventurous expedition with the others.

Upon reaching a decision, the brothers, Diavolo, and Solomon began to depart. However, Asmo noticed Barbatos was still in the kitchen and asked, "You don't want to join us, Barbatos?"

"I still have to finish preparations for the approaching celebration," Barbatos smiled. "I do hope all of you have a safe excursion."

A while later, you came down from your bedroom and noticed Barbatos in the kitchen, but no one else was in sight. The tranquil and comforting aura was undoubtedly a soothing and welcome change from the previous chaotic and bustling atmosphere. "Good morning, Barbatos. Where is everyone?" You asked, walking to the kitchen.

"Good morning, (y/n). Mammon invited everyone to explore a cave with a wondrous sight. Then the younger master proposed a trek through the woods," the butler replied with a friendly inflection, serving you breakfast.

"Thank you. What about your sous chefs? Where are they?" You chuckled and settled on the high bar chair closest to him. As you took a bite of the fruit tart, your palate experienced explosive delights with each mouthful you took. The pastry base proved deliciously rich with subtle undertones of flavor layered together, while the decadent filling proved wonderfully sweet with various fruity hints that blended together perfectly.

"They absconded," he chuckled, but from the tone of his voice, you inferred that Barbatos had already anticipated this eventuality.

"Then allow me to be your sous chef today!" You giggled. "That's the least I can do in exchange for the delicious meals you make for us. Not to mention, you have been in the kitchen since the day you came here. All of us are enjoying our time while you are stuck in here."

"I gladly accept your proposition," he smiled.

After you finished your balanced breakfast with a side of sugary indulgence, Barbatos placed a freshly baked cake base in front of you. The cake had been cooled and was ready to be decorated. In front of you, he laid out a variety of fruits, decorative items, icings, and various utensils to assist you in decorating. "Would you be so kind as to decorate the cake? Decorate it to your liking."

"Gladly!" You beamed and began to lay down the icing on the cake.

The atmosphere was permeated with a pleasant peace and tranquility for some time. Only the muffled ticking of the clock on the wall, the simmering of Barbatos's cooking, and the subtle crackling of the fire on the burner could be heard. Despite the peace, the bulter preferred speaking to you as he usually didn't get the chance to spend time with you. "How did your conversation with Lucifer fare?" He asked curiously.

"Well, Luci was mad at first," you sighed but didn't stop decorating. "He even said what I did was seen as 'betrayal,' which I wasn't expecting to hear."

Barbatos shifted his gaze to you, his eyebrows raised. He, too, was taken aback by the Avatar of Pride's utilization of such a weighty term to describe your actions. Nonetheless, the butler could not fault Lucifer, considering honesty and trust were critical factors to him. Not noticing his expression or gaze, you continued to smooth the icing on the cake.

"A while ago, I saw Diav and Luci talking in the backyard from the second floor. Initially, Diav seemed sad, but he was smiling by the end. He even threw his arm around Lucifer," you laughed, recollecting the first brother's expression when the prince hugged him. "All's well, that ends well. Thankfully. I don't even want to imagine what would have happened if Lucifer had gotten angry."

Barbatos chuckled, "That is a sight no one desires to witness."

"I wouldn't want to upset you either," you giggled, but it was evident in your voice that you were speaking the truth.

"Why would that be?" Barbatos inquired curiously. However, his expression indicated that he was feigning innocence to entail a response from you.

"You always smile, but most of the time, your smile doesn't reach your eyes. Not to mention, you are a powerful demon with the ability to manipulate timelines, which is scary," you honestly said but didn't dare to meet his gaze.

"You are indeed correct. Our very timeline could perhaps be the result of my tactics and manipulations," he jested, yet the underlying undercurrent of his tone still sent an eerie chill down your spine.

"What do you mean?" You asked, gradually meeting his gaze. Was he actually speaking the truth? The prospect of him using timelines to manipulate the various occurrences to fulfill his or Diavolo's desires was profoundly unsettling to you.

"You interact with the others. You smile and laugh alongside them, yet I remain by myself on each occasion. It is possible that I may have utilized timelines to manipulate situations in order to grant myself time with you," he stated while maintaining his signature smile, which made it quite difficult for you to determine if he was speaking the truth or not. Regardless, his words still surprised you, and you felt guilty.

"I am sorry, Barbatos. I didn't mean to make you feel left out," you gave him a small, apologetic smile. "How about I cook lunch for you as a way to show you I am truly sorry?"

Barbatos was a bit surprised by your offer as no one had cooked for him before - Solomon not included as he dared not consume a meal cooked by the sorcerer. With a smile, he nodded, "I shall wait eagerly."

You spent some time online looking for an appealing yet traditional dish he may like. After a quick search, you discovered a savory recipe that you presumed would be well received by the butler. Without wasting any time, you swiftly began selecting the required ingredients. However, out of the corner of your eyes, you noticed Barbatos intently observing your actions without saying a word.

"Barbatos, please don't watch me," you gave a nervous laugh. "I am already worried about cooking for a world-class chef, and you watching me is making me even more nervous."

Barbatos chuckled and offered a few words of apology before averting his gaze to the half-decorated dessert in front of him. Since the theme of your artistic endeavor was in line with the celebratory holiday season, the butler decided to uphold the same motif and continue decorating.

Once you finished preparing the dish, you embellished and beautified it by making it appear more appealing. After you completed plating, you took a deep breath and placed the dish in front of him. The butler had quickly registered your unease, and he refrained from engaging in any actions or saying any statements that may exacerbate your anxiety even further.

His lips curled into a soft smile when he sampled your cooking. Your jaw nearly dropped as you saw the genuine smile that decorated his handsome visage for the first time. The smile reached his eyes and made them shimmer with vibrant sparkles. The sight was so overwhelming your heart lost its rhythm for a few seconds. Somehow, you felt like you had obtained an unobtainable achievement and were proud of yourself.

In a moment of assurance, you turned around and took a spoonful of your cooking. Just as the butler was about to halt your actions, you placed it in your mouth. Your body reacted in a startlingly negative manner, and every strand of hair stood on end while a shiver ran through your body. You barely managed to push down the food. In your nervousness, you had accidentally added sugar in place of salt and overcooked the dish.

"Barbatos, this is horrible!" You exclaimed and turned around to find him calmly eating your cooking. "W-Wait, how are you eating this without being bothered?"

The butler gave a light-hearted chuckle and made a straightforward remark. "This dish was prepared with love. That alone is sufficient to make it the most delicious meal I have ever savored."

His reply caught you off guard, and your cheeks glowed a vibrant red, which the butler found extraordinarily adorable. Wordlessly, he drew close to you, curling several strands of your hair around his index finger and gently placing his lips against them. Your gaze locked with his, and you were filled with a desire to kiss him, yet your uncertainty as to whether or not the butler would appreciate or tolerate your advances left you hesitant.

Due to his perceptive nature, Barbatos instantly noticed your desire and chose to take the initiative. He leaned in closely and remained locked in a prolonged, intimate gaze with you, deepening the shade of blush. In the next moment, your lips melted into a blissful union. The kiss felt like a culmination of his hidden desire, indicating that he may have been yearning to kiss you for quite a while.

Pulling away from the kiss, you smiled warmly at him. "Barb, you have been cooking nonstop for the past few days. You need to take a break."

The butler immediately accepted the invitation as he desired a small break, yet he had struggled to find the time and opportunity. While you meandered about in the kitchen and followed his directions regarding adding final touches to certain dishes or monitoring the temperature of a dish inside the oven, boredom began to creep in. Nonetheless, you attempted to conceal your boredom from him the best you could.

"(Y/n), would you like to play a game? I would like to make the most of our time together," Barbatos smiled, although you failed to notice the faint traces of mischievousness that adorned his eyes. "The others will not return until the evening, meaning we possess the cabin solely to ourselves." Without inquiring as to the particulars of the game or the rules involved, you readily accepted, ignorant to the fact that this game would be a source of 'torture' for you.

---

"Focus on your task, my dear," Barbatos whispered close to you, his breath lightly brushing your skin and causing shivers to traverse your body.

You shut your eyes and inhaled deeply in an attempt to force your thoughts to focus solely on stirring the stew. Barbatos wrapped one of his arms tightly around your bare waist while the other hand continued to methodically massage between your folds. The torture did not end there as he slightly moved his hips. The rate at which he moved was excruciatingly slow and drawn out, causing you to crave him even more. Part of you wanted to drop everything and tell him to take you right then and there, but you knew he would refuse. Barbatos was more focused on the game than giving in to your passionate desires.

When you heard "game," you anticipated it would be something along the lines of him providing hints, and you would strive to guess what he was thinking. Contrary to your perception, once you said yes, he kissed you with ferocity and began to remove your clothes. Although he briefly stopped to give you a chance to protest or dissuade him, your curiosity got the better of you. In the following moment, he pressed your body against his, and you suddenly felt his fingers penetrate deeper into your body, his voice softly whispering the rules of the game in your ear. If you moaned or unintentionally shifted your hips, the game would be elongated, which meant prolonging your climax.

As you felt Barbatos bury his length deeper inside, you tightly clamped your mouth shut to quell any sounds that threatened to escape. You yearned for the conclusion of this game to result in Barbatos ravaging you. A salacious vision appeared in your mind that further increased your excitement: you gripping the edge of the kitchen counter while Barbatos firmly grasped your hips and relentlessly slammed inside you, over and over again, in an immensely pleasurable manner.

———————————————

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im-a-wonderling · 2 months

Text

Once A Heart Is Given ~ a continuation of Sorrows Can Swim

It's definitely true that art mimics life. Thanks to certain life events, I'm feeling remarkably similar to Prince, so...I guess inspiration is my silver lining?

Warnings: none

Word count: 2.2k

Sorrows Can Swim masterlist

Prince was tired of meetings. He was tired of people needing him. And he was tired of this life he called his own.

The council, fully composed of men greyer than rainclouds and wrinklier than raisins, sat at the big table. They never looked at him with anything less than expectancy, waiting for him to listen and make the big decisions that came with his duty.

“We’ll send funds to the village, but discreetly,” Prince decided, hating that he had to be subtle with his support at the risk of offending the nobility, but unwilling to let his people flounder.

The men leaned in towards each other, debating his decision with those calculating eyes and lowly spoken words. Prince waited for them to raise a complaint meant for his ears, but the murmuring eventually died. “Are we settled?” he asked the room at large. The men didn’t speak, to agree or disagree, which was a telltale sign they felt they were doing him a great service in humoring him.

Prince ached for a kind word from them, but that was like waiting for fairies to come, pointless and even if it happened, only a luxury.

“Is that all for today?” he asked the council, concealing his weariness the best he could.

The head councilman bowed. “Yes, sire, that’s all for the day.”

“Then I will see everyone tomorrow.” The council all got up from their chairs, bowed as one, and filed out of the room, talking amongst themselves again.

They have each other, Prince lamented. I have no one.

Prince’s shoulders slumped as he rubbed his eyes against the harsh, bright afternoon sun streaming into the room. He got up, turning to grab a fistful of the curtain, intending to close it and shut away the light.

But then he caught sight of the garden below and the beauty running amongst the hedges.

Princess.

Her long, unbound hair streamed behind her, her fists pumping as she ran. She reached the fountain and spun, the pale purple fabric of her dress billowing around her as she spun a full circle and a half, allowing her to face the castle once again. Her radiant smile was aimed at the ladies that were catching up to her.

What would it feel like to have that smile aimed at him?

Her mouth opened, and even through the glass, his ears caught her merry laughter. His heart swelled, and a pained croak fell from his lips.

He couldn’t contain it, the way he felt for her. He ached to hear her laugh again, but with the way his heart seemed to grow every time he heard it, it might grow too big for his chest if she did. He felt as if a piece of her was inside him, like she was interwoven in his being, and in the piece’s mighty effort to return to her, it nearly dragged him with it. He considered it a minor miracle that it wasn’t her name he said every time he opened his mouth. He couldn’t imagine what the council would think of him if that were the case.

Princess tagged one of the ladies and ran away, shrieking from the excitement of the game.

A sigh left him, and he allowed his forehead to rest against the glass, his eyes following her every movement. He knew he needed to look away, if not out of respect then for his own sanity. He needed to banish her from his mind or he would spend forever watching her from this window. If Princess were to look up through the window, she would catch sight of the fond smile toying at her husband’s mouth. But Princess kicked off her shoes, oblivious to her spectator as she lifted her skirts and ran.

And he couldn’t look away.

He’d spent most of his life either looking at or looking for her.

Every summer since Prince turned ten and Princess turned eight, she’d spent in this castle. Prince could still remember the first day she’d arrived in a blue carriage with golden accents, the Tunican colors. Nursemaid had all but wrestled Prince into his best clothes. As they stood outside the castle, watching the carriage appear in the distance, Nursemaid lightly smacked Prince’s hand every time he reached up to scratch the itchy collar. When the carriage came to a stop and a footman opened the door, Prince expected a bratty, snooty girl to step out.

A snooty girl indeed was who took the footman’s waiting hand. Once she was out of the carriage, she stood on the ground, blinking out at all the people standing in the castle courtyard waiting for her. Prince had started to groan, not looking forward to the bowing and scraping that was about to occur.

But before anything of the kind happened, the girl took off like a shot, running not towards the people or back into the carriage, but off to the side, towards the royal orchard.

The footman, clearly used to this behavior, ran after her, calling her name, and a few other servants joined in the chase, including Nursemaid.

But Prince looked back at the carriage to see two dainty blue shoes, laying discarded in the dust of the path from where Princess had kicked them off.

Never in his life had Prince known chaos like the day Princess sprinted through the courtyard and into his life. And nothing else in his life had he wished for since.

“Sire?”

Prince jerked away from the window, blinking as his eyes tried to adjust to the darkness of the room that had been too bright moments before. “Yes?”

“I have done as you ask.”

Finally, Prince’s eyes adjusted to see Maid standing in the doorway, looking a bit confused. “I’m listening.” He tried to arrange himself in a very thoughtful, serious position.

Maid swept into a deep curtsey. “Sire, she said she has no need for jewelry or clothes, sire, nor stationary or books.”

Prince frowned. His sneaky attempts once again failed to find out what Princess wanted for her birthday—which was two days away. It would be her first birthday in Prince’s kingdom, her first birthday as his wife. He wanted her to enjoy it, and he was getting desperate.

“What about a horse?” he asked desperately.

Maid shook her head. “She has a prize mare already, sire.”

Prince pursed his lips, deep in thought.

With their lives similarly decadent, what riches could he offer her? The only thing he could give with value other than monetary was his heart, and he’d given it to her already. She didn’t want it, he knew that, and if it were humanly possible, he would’ve taken it back long ago. Prince wasn’t even sure that a heart could be taken back once it was given.

“But if I may?”

Prince looked up at Maid, her fingers anxiously smoothing down her skirt, betraying her unease when her face didn’t. “Yes?” he said.

“She mentioned that she wants to go see Queen’s Veil Falls.”

Prince turned back to look at Princess, who was much further through the garden now. The waterfall was one of Prince’s favorite places in the whole kingdom.

As he watched Princess roll on the grass in an attempt to dodge one of the ladies, a plan started forming in Prince’s head. “Thank you, that will be all.”

“Sir, you…you don’t want to hear anything else?”

Prince furrowed his brows, spinning to see Maid’s furrowed brows. “What else is there?”

Maid glanced over her shoulder and then lowered her voice. “There’s a man–”

“No!” Prince said, so loudly, Maid flinched. “I’m sorry.” Prince rubbed his forehead, reeling back his feelings and pushing them down. “You’re dismissed.”

His outburst must’ve frightened her, for Maid curtsied and scurried away.

What had she been about to say? It certainly would’ve involved Guard, but was it information Prince already knew? Or was there more?

Prince swallowed hard and pulled out a map, forcing himself to stare at the location of Queen’s Veil Falls.

The waterfall was a pleasant, secluded space. Prince had never been there with more than three people, and often, he simply went by himself. But Princess wouldn’t want to spend her birthday with Prince, and he couldn’t send her ladies there without an escort, and an escort would make the group too big.

But there was a way for Princess to go to the waterfall with only one other person, someone who was very capable of protecting her, and possibly the person Princess would most enjoy going with.

Prince waited until the next morning before going to the barracks.

The dimly lit room contained twenty beds, ten on each side. Nineteen of the beds were empty, only one bed was occupied: the bed in the corner, furthest away from the light. The torches had been snuffed, leaving the sunlight streaming through two tiny windows as the only source of light in the room.

Prince walked briskly to the bed, eyeing the lump underneath the blanket. Guard was on duty the night before and was now catching up on some much needed sleep. Normally, Prince would avoid waking him at all costs, for Guard was already problematic enough to deal with when he’d slept well.

But this conversation couldn’t wait with the Princess’s birthday being the next day.

“I have work for you,” he told the lump still in bed.

The lump moved from beneath the blanket, and Guard’s groggy face appeared. Any other soldier in this castle would leap out of bed, standing at attention with poker straight posture. But Guard merely rubbed his eyes. “What?” he said, irritated.

“Princess’s birthday is tomorrow.”

Guard propped himself up on his elbows, blinking sleepily at Prince. “And?”

Prince stood statue still. Somewhere inside surely resided anger, but all Prince could feel was misery. Everyone deserved to be celebrated on their birthday. If Guard cared a mite for Princess, he’d commit himself to her enjoyment. But he didn’t, so he wouldn’t. Over and over, Guard’s actions spoke of nothing but self-interest, and Prince only had himself to blame for being disappointed.

He took a deep breath and blew it out as slowly as he could. “Princess wants to go to Queen’s Veil Falls. If the two of you leave after breakfast tomorrow, she can have lunch at the falls and be back before dinner. I think–”

“What’s in it for me?” Guard interrupted, swinging his legs over the side of the bed.

“A picnic. The chance to see a beautiful place. Time with Princess away from the castle.” Guard raised an eyebrow, looking unimpressed, and Prince scowled. “You’ll have a day free of duties aside from keeping her safe. That must be sorely tempting.”

Guard smacked his lips, as if he were literally tasting the offer and deciding his verdict. “Very well.”

Prince stared as Guard yawned and stretched.

What would he himself give to be the one Princess wanted to celebrate her birthday with? If some witch could somehow make Princess naturally love Prince…why, Prince would give the witch anything she wanted, perhaps even his life’s purpose—his kingdom. And here Guard was, acting as though this opportunity, as though Princess were burdensome?

Guard’s eyes lazily passed over Prince, but then he froze in his position with his arms stretched towards the ceiling. Then, he lowered his arms and pushed himself up on his feet. “Does His Highness have something to say?” he asked, his mocking voice undermining the title.

Prince turned away. “The kitchens will prepare the picnic basket, and the stables will have two horses saddled and waiting for you.”

“Look at me!” Guard shouted, and Prince looked over his shoulder to see a dangerous light flickering in Guard’s eyes. “You don’t get to dismiss me.”

“I’m not.”

Guard advanced on Prince. “You will treat me with the respect I’m owed, or I’ll–”

“Spill the beans. I’m aware.” Prince held his clasped hands behind him, looking Guard directly in the eye. If only Guard knew what the kitchen staff normally did to rats, then he’d have no doubt that Prince was already treating him much better than he deserved.

Guard’s mouth suddenly spread into a nasty smile as he made a show of dusting off the shoulder of Prince’s doublet. “No matter. Your wife treats me well enough for both of you.”

Maybe Prince should’ve punched in Guard’s nose right then and there. Ordered him out of the castle. Called for the other soldiers to throw him in prison.

He was too defeated to do anything of the kind.

Prince just tiredly blinked at Guard, waiting until the man was satisfied enough to allow him to leave without more grandstanding.

Guard stepped back. And then he spat.

Prince lowered his gaze to the glob of saliva now darkening the front of his shirt.

“You’re pathetic,” Guard said in a low tone. “And your wife knows it.”

Prince waited for the searing, poker-hot pain to shoot through his chest, but he felt nothing. Nothing at all. His heart made nary a peep. Perhaps it really was wholly and completely Princess’s, so far gone, it resided in his chest no longer. “Don’t forget about tomorrow,” he said quietly before turning away.

“Come back here!” Guard shouted, but Prince ignored him.

He had a meeting to go to, and apparently he had to change his shirt.

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