#i think it took me three days to change all the tags

[dragonnan]

Nightmare

May 15

This one was published back in 2021. While it isn't a dreaming type of nightmare, I think it still qualifies.

Please let me know if you'd prefer not to be tagged :)

He could have taken the helicopter but, quite frankly, he had needed the drive in order to structure what he would say to them. Though, even as he pulled the sleek vehicle into the drive; gravel snapping and popping beneath the narrow tyres, he was no more prepared than he'd been when he'd left London. After turning off the engine he hung back for a beat – hands gripped around the wheel.

Whatever gods exist please let them not be home...

The house door opened and Mycroft swallowed – eyes closing for just a moment.

Before they could step out into the yard, however, Mycroft schooled his face and exited his car; feet settling onto the dusty drive. He should have changed into something more fitting; his polished black shoes were going to be scuffed beyond recovery.

“It's been three days; we've heard nothing – not even from that assistant of yours...” Words trailed away as Mycroft neared the door – those keen grey eyes taking in his features. Then, finally, his mother swallowed. “I'll go fetch your father.”

He followed inside. The trappings of the holiday still bedecked the walls and tucked in corners – red and green and things that glittered. The ghost of that wretched holiday nearly enough to spin his gut. Had it really been just three days? Having hung back in the sitting room, surrounded by the ruin of Christmas, Mycroft waited until he heard the back door open and shut – until he heard the tread of work boots cross the floor and the hiss of the tap as his father washed up at the sink. He'd been out in his workshop, then.

When he eventually made his way into the kitchen, his mother was setting the kettle to boil. There was a rum cake on the table – a holdover from their broken celebrations. Mycroft was quite certain he would never again deign to eat another slice of rum cake.

He felt caught in a current – his limbs disconnected from the floor below as he watched his parents carry out familiar movements cast in the die of decades – repeated and worn into the shape of the spaces around him until the very molecules in the air had been carved to fit their steps. It was nearly a head-rush that would have staggered him had he not been clinging with one hand on the door jam – that sensation of events playing themselves out to infinity. That sickening slip of déjà vu that wanted him to carry out his own predetermined patterns. He had taken these steps before... sat at the table, unburdened dire news which would fracture their family with regards to the youngest of them... that pall of death that had followed Sherlock from the very first time Mycroft had forced air into his stilled lungs in a filthy doss house. Seventeen years old and ODed on a tainted dose of cocaine from a disreputable dealer. Had he been the one, then, to stay that boney specter – to demand favor that would, eventually, demand its due?

Was this to be the payment demanded? To stand to the side while the blade of the guillotine fell?

Or was he the one required to let slip the rope from his fingers?

“Mycroft?”

His father's voice and proximity sent a rush of inhaled air through Mycroft's nose – head jerking back a fraction until his dark musings returned him to the room he'd fled. The tea was ready and Mummy stood next to the table while his father was less than a foot away – concern on both of their faces.

He stiffened his shoulders and walked to the executioner's block.

Once sat, he took his cup in hand and even sipped the warmth – his body so cold that it felt like a blaze sliding down his throat. He was aware that he was handling this all very badly.

His mother, likely sensing the impasse holding his teeth together, finally spoke to life the fear wrapping them all.

“Sherlock will not be allowed to go free.”

Mycroft's eyes fluttered shut, then, and he shook his head.

“No.”

“But you did not travel for over an hour to tell us that. We knew there would be a punishment of some sort. It's worse than that. Isn't it.” Her own tea remained untouched. At the edge of his vision, Mycroft watched his father take hold of his mother's hand. When had their home ever been so silent?

“He is to be held in solitary until the week's end. He is to have no visitors; myself included. On Friday, Sherlock will be escorted to my private airfield. There he will board a jet, to be taken to a location, deemed by M16 to be of high-value, which I am not at liberty to disclose... even to you. Such is the nature of this mission that, upon successful completion, Sherlock's debts will be forgiven and his slate wiped clean.”

Throughout this Mycroft kept his eyes fixed on his cup – watching the surface steam as it dissipated above the rim. When he finished, he considered another sip before noting the tremor in his hands that were held gathered in his lap. He breathed, measured in a count of eight, until they stilled.

Mummy, however, dithered with the cup in her free hand – the porcelain skidding on the old tabletop. Her voice, when it came, was stripped to a jerking hush. “Will he...?” Whatever remained of her question locked up tight behind her throat and when Mycroft lifted his head it was to watch a tear seep down one pale cheek.

But, then, he knew what it was she was asking. And maybe his silence, in reply, was more than enough answer because she turned into Siger's embrace and, with shaking shoulders, began to weep.

Some time later, Mycroft was halfway through his third cigarette, while overlooking the back garden. The burning fag jutted from between two fingers where they rested on the black metal gate. How recently he stood in this very place.

It had grown quite chilly, the past several nights; dipping down as low as six degrees. There was even the chance of snow flurries in the morning.

Finishing the cigarette, Mycroft tapped the ash tip against the fence before tucking the butt in his pocket. It struck him, then, that he would never steal away for a smoke with his brother ever again.

He didn't remember when he moved. He only knew that he came to himself as he was pounding his fists against one of the rough stone posts that stood on either side of the gate. The blood in his ears was pumping so loudly that he could not hear what tore from his throat – could only feel it in the vibration of his vocal chords. In truth he would have remained lost in his rage far longer had not arms wrapped around him from behind. In that moment Mycroft knew his father's embrace.

He sagged, then, in those strong arms. Stronger than the older man appeared to anyone who didn't know him. He held his oldest child as Mycroft tipped his face down into his spread hands and began to sob. Rough, jagged pieces of glass that left behind bleeding wounds where they ripped through his chest.

How long they stood there was lost to time. Mycroft only knew that at some point his father had laid an arm across his shoulders and was guiding him inside with soft words while Mycroft had all he could do to place one foot before the other in a mostly straight path.

When next he was logging events it was to blink owlishly at the stout mug of something steaming and alcoholic resting on the coffee table, before him. He lifted it and took a sip. Ah – father's special hot toddy spiced with cardamom. He had taken several sips before finally taking in more of the room. His eyebrows lowered when he noticed that the only other person in the room was his father – the older man sitting in his favorite chair next to the fireplace. His face was haggard and eyes rimmed red. At Mycroft's glance, Siger tipped his head towards the hall.

“She's lying down. It was... it's too much. We almost lost him, so recently, and now...” his throat bobbed and he subsided – long fingers twisting together. Mycroft held the warm mug in his hands – his fingertips tapping against the rim. Only then did he feel the sting rising in his knuckles. Blood filled every crease – though it was obvious the injuries had been cleaned and treated with a topical ointment. His eyes closed and he felt the flash of burn from his dried out stare. He was aware of losing time repeatedly and, were he not so emotionally flattened, it would have been troubling.

He held the mug in his hands until it cooled – setting it aside once he finally noticed the absence of heat.

“I've failed him.”

The words whispered free before his mind had fully formed them. Yet, the moment they were voiced he knew the truth of them. He had failed. The only mission in his life which truly mattered and he had failed... abysmally.

And his brother would pay for that failure. And there was nothing he could do to repair this.

He expected no response from his father – what was there to say? He was aware of Siger looking towards the low flames in the fireplace. His eyes were wet.

And so they remained; each trapped in their own misery.

An hour later his father stood, approaching to rest a hand against his cheek, for a moment, before going off to bed.

He had only intended to deliver his news before returning home but Mycroft found he scarcely had the energy remaining to slip his shoes from his feet before curling on his side.

He was asleep before he even finished the mental note to call Anthea in the morning.

The following day was possibly worse than the evening which had preceded it. His mother was, by turns, furious and horribly silent. Even his father, normally a stoic man, had a tremble in his jaw and more than once wiped beneath his eyes. It was a journey through hell as Mycroft forewent breakfast in his urgency to flee.

There were six additional texts from John as well as two voicemails. Certainly no point in perusing them – it was readily apparent what the man had to say and Mycroft deleted them without bothering to listen. He had no answers for him and the ones he could have provided would be a disservice to his brother's friend. There were too few things he could do for Sherlock. This, at the least, was a mercy he could offer.

There were many affairs he had to put into order. As it was they were not entirely new – having been established the last time Sherlock had confronted a madman. The difference, of course, was that Mycroft's involvement, back then, was to provide the greatest assurance of his brother's survival. Now...

It struck him, all at once, in a sort of breathless fashion so strongly that he was forced to pull to the side of the road. His hands clasped on the steering wheel and he felt a wild pounding through his chest and it was some outer observation of himself that recognized panic. That part of him, though, was incapable of offering more and even his sense of time was wiped away until he finally, eventually, came back to himself layered in sweat that felt icy against his temples. His mouth was tacky and dry so he opened his door to walk around back to the boot where he had a cooler among other supplies. The water almost hurt when he first swallowed – his throat was so parched. In short order, however, he'd emptied it and screwed the cap back onto the depleted bottle – tossing it into the cooler before retrieving a second and taking it back to the driver's seat.

It was an additional ten minutes before Mycroft felt confident to drive. But as he pulled out onto the roadway it was with a hum of determination that had begun to build from the moment Sherlock had pulled the trigger to end Magnussen's miserable life. He would not allow Sherlock to face this alone. Not while blood still pumped though his veins. No, he may not be able to alter this fate. However, he still had the autonomy his position afforded.

Even if it meant walking with his brother into the flames.

His uncle would have accused him of excessive drama. Rudy, though, had long viewed sentiment as little more than a tool for manipulation. And, in that moment, Mycroft found he didn't care one whit what Rudy Vernet thought.

He needed to contact Anthea again – an adjustment to protocols which had been previously established. She would not thank him, once she became aware of his intentions. However, she would, he hoped, understand. There was no other way.

In three days he would watch his brother board a private jet.

An hour later, Mycroft would take a temporary leave – boarding a commercial flight under an alias known only to Anthea.

He was quite certain he would never see London again.

He found no regret in this choice. In fact, for the first time since Christmas, he felt peace.

He only had one last task to accomplish – something he had promised his brother before Sherlock was locked away in a private cell. Contact dialed on his mobile, Mycroft was unsurprised when it was picked up scarcely after a single ring.

“Mycroft – what the hell is going on? Where is Sherlock...?”

“John. My apologies. Sherlock has been detained and I'm afraid he has not been allowed contact. However I...” he licked his lips; suddenly aware of a dangerous tremble which he forced aside before it could slip into his speech, “I was able to procure... a moment.”

“Moment? What...”

“To say goodbye. John.” Not fully silent, on the other end, Mycroft was able to note the sudden deep breaths. One last mercy, perhaps. “As recompense for the shooting, Sherlock is to avail himself to MI6 as a field operative. It was deemed a far better fate than to waste away in a cell.”

The breathing caught as John composed himself. When his voice returned it was subdued.

“How long?”

Mycroft rubbed his thumbs against the steering wheel. “Indefinitely.”

He had no trouble imaging John's eyes shuttering closed. “I see.”

They disconnected shortly afterward.

As grayed hills gave way to London streets, Mycroft pulled the tatters of self back around his shoulders. This was for the best. After 6 months, John Watson would receive a substantial deposit into his bank account – more than enough to see to his child's upbringing and education. He would know only that Sherlock had arranged for the funds via his trust. He would wonder – likely assume, correctly, that Sherlock was no longer alive. He would mourn and he would move on. After all, he had done so, once before.

As to Mary; Mycroft would have her under watch. Anthea would see it through personally. Should the former assassin ever show any indication of returning to her former life... should she ever present a danger to John or their child... it would be handled. His parents...

And here Mycroft faltered in his manic plans.

And not only his parents. He had responsibilities that only he, and very few others, were aware existed.

He... he could not do as he desperately wished.

There was only a vast emptiness of winter pale hills beyond the windscreen. The promised flurries had begun to fall shortly after five that morning – the roadway gilded with sparking flakes that frosted the browned grass and clung to the branches of trees. As the flakes began to thicken, building into a proper snow, Mycroft switched on the fog lights in spite of the fact he shared the road with no other vehicles.

Before the weight of it all could drag him beneath the rising waves, Mycroft mentally took hold of himself. He had allowed emotion to wrest control of his faculties. He had... indulged a fantasy. But that was all it would ever be. It was over now. It was all over, now.

It was time to move forward.

His parents would never forgive him. This, though, was something he had been prepared to face. And it wouldn't be the first child he had taken from them.

Before his maudlin thoughts could overtake him, yet again, Mycroft dialed a number on his mobile once again. There was no sound of a ring and only moments passed before he heard the click of a connection. “Anthea. I need you to make arrangements. It's for John Watson... and Sherlock.” He licked his lips; moving into a lane that would take him into the city and on to Whitehall. He remembered, with sudden and breathtaking vibrancy, a tiny face with watery blue eyes, peering up at him from the folds of the blanket cradled in Mummy's arms. And he knew, as well, that he gave himself away with the tremble that broke in his voice.

“It's time to say goodbye.”

Comment on AO3

Tagging: @totallysilvergirl

#sherlock #fanfic #may prompts 2024 #nightmare #mycroft holmes

[evakant]

not calling myself a trend setter but i've noticed a slight uptick in people using "rs:" for their dynamics tags, you know, so like, (twirls hair) maybe.. 🤭🧡

#maybe i am. maybe you could call me a trend setter #it's actually a boring story but way back when i made the changr to ''rs:'' it was because i was tired #of having to use otp/brotp/ot3 #it felt reductive and most tags then had to come with some sort of desclaimer #''these are just relationships'' i said to myself and putting each in a box just takes too much time #so ''rs:'' for relationships was easier to adopt #i think it took me three days to change all the tags #but anything for The Archive. #fra.txt #ignore the typos

[mattodore]

if i can get these hair ties to work first try i'll be unstoppable

#river dipping #blender #got home and immediately opened blender where i've been for the last few hours #i made some draft hair ties which were just circles i popped into s4s and tested in cas #took me at least four attempts to figure out how to get the uv maps to work but now that i've got it!! #i'm working on the actual hair ties i want. i just finished getting both hair ties all nice and snug with matthias's wrist #so now i'm onto the actual uv mapping and vertex assigning... #i'm going to make three packages one with both hair ties joined and two with them separated then i'll merge them into one #i'll also scale them down and fit them onto theo's wrists after #like... they ARE for theo's hair after all so he should get to wear them too lmao it's just... yk. matthias's acts of service... #gotta make sure he has them on him at all times so he can put up theo's hair for him #now that i'm thinking abt it tho theo is right handed unlike matthias... so for him the hair ties should be on his other arm... #i think you can mirror meshes right??? idk if i can't figure that out i'll just make new ones #...also hello <3 i've been offline for most of the day #would feel weird not saying hi here bc of it lmao #.....had to change the caption bc i was like. ykw maybe i shouldn't say that abt someone i don't know just bc they made something #<- tags typed after looking through the guy's likes on twitter lmaoooooooooooooo

[m0e-ru]

HAPPY ANNIVERSARY to the day my brain was literally rewired and my gender was being changed by the second SO HERES A GAS STATION SPECIAL before this joint was even a gas station in the FIRST PLACE !!!!

FUCKING FREAK

#kommento #// theres a whole love letter in here dont open these tags it's a readmore equivalent #p4 #⛽️🌫 #moel gas station attendant #tohru adachi #boot.tingting #arttag #// sneak peak before the manager became a manager and only put the uniform on to see how well it would fit and hasnt taken it off since. #// im tearing up because i hate how it's been three years and also i cant find the other notebook so i went through gphotos instead #// also that i miss blorbo so much i miss my old self so much she was so sweet and genuine and the passion and love and everything #// STUPID SEQUENCE OF PHOTOS the way my brain was so fucking rearranged i had to get up and make memes and take screenshots and then #// draw then COME BACK AGAIN to watch the thing that changed my life forever. AGAIN #// sorry was having technical difficluties in yokohama im back istok im normal (affirmation ) #// this is literally all me before i started thinking about myself and wondering about my gender then the dysphoria came rushing in like #// some freshwater spring about to make a waterfall and i had to let it settle and get used to the ecosystem with two more years #// took a month where p4gsteam was booted up and i made my own save at some point and finished it on july 8 #// clasped my hands and had a honeymoon period over. mimi <3 then the day after rolled around and i watched the .chair car adventure #// literally my first p4 doodles were mimi and adachi theres no fucking denying it theyre the og. theyve been with me from the start #// theyre so important to me theyre so personal they made me who i am thats why im so mad with the community i have to share them with #// because theyre all so different from me and i took that personally #// IT'S KOKAY !! look at how far ive gone. this is the biggest archival effort ive ever done my entire life ive grown branches #// farther than ive done before ive put such a variety of skills to use just to make myself food and manage this damn station #// and keep some sort of love alive which was all from me and is still from ME !!! #// crying while writing these tags now sorry okyakusan i'll clean it up soon #// these doodles really explaining my mindset from the start and how the grindset has never really changed at all #// it was all friendship for three years and still will be i love adachi i love gas station attendant so much THERE I'M SAYING IT #// cherry on top friend just dm'd me to get an actual job at a gas station IM SHITTING MYSELF #// happy anniversary to my genderest best friend and the most problematic uncle ive ever had #// we're all holding hands and theyre treating me to topsicles because it's all i could ever shamelessly want

[lordsukunas]

piggyback rides

synop: you want trueform!sukuna to give you a piggyback ride and he doesn’t know what it is. that’s it.

tags: fluffy fluff fluff, fem!reader (referred as woman once, refers to self as ‘queen’ and ‘wife’ once), ooc sukuna (only bc he’s less of an asshole), possessive behavior (kind of?), mentions of sukuna-typical violence, likely historically inaccurate, not proofread. i couldn’t determine whether or not he was actually wearing a haori or something similar - correct me if i’m wrong n i’ll change it!

notes: basic ass title ik... erm sorry! another post in two days is a miracle so i’m a little proud of myself. half-assed ending lol... anyway, this is just a silly lil drabble!! any interaction is much appreciated, enjoyyyy! :3

“what.”

the first set of crimson eyes dart down to look at you, the other set still tracking the scuttling servants. you’re situated quite snugly in his expansive lap — two thick arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you into the warmth of his bare chest. “what the hell is that?”

you nibble the inside of your cheek to suppress a smirk. finally, you know something that sukuna does not! and it only took three years. “it’s where i get on your back and you carry me around. quite simple, truthfully.”

he snorts at the slight condescension in your voice. for something so agitating, you have quite the ego. “mm. and why should i do that for you? you can walk on your own, unless your legs are mysteriously broken all of a sudden.”

“because,” you say with a huff, “it’s fun. don’t you want to bond with your queen?”

anxious eyes of passing maids sneak glances at you, your little huff drawing their attention. sukuna shifts you in his lap, turning you to the side, and the massive sleeve of his robe moves to obscure your form from their undeserving gaze. “we have bonded enough.”

“and it would not hurt to bond some more!” you counter. sukuna’s stubbornness is something you absolutely adore about him, but not right now. “can the mighty king of curses not spare a moment of his day to entertain his wife’s wish?”

he falls silent at this, and you can practically see the gears churning in his big head. he’ll cave. if there’s one thing that’s undeniable about the sorcerer, it’s his curiosity.

“... fine,” he grunts. after scooping you up and setting you down, he stands up and gestures with his hand. “so how do we do it?”

your lips curve up into a smirk. “okay, turn around so that your back is facing me.”

sukuna turns around, folding one pair of arms over his chest.

“then, crouch down a little.”

a beat passes, and then he crouches down, back muscles flexing underneath the dark fabric of his haori.

you step up behind him and slide your arms around his neck. his adam’s apple bobs, and the other arms move to cradle your butt. “if this is an attempt to choke me, it isn’t work.”

he always thinks someone’s out to get him. you roll your eyes. “no. if i wanted to kill you, i likely would’ve attempted forever ago.” you lift your lower half onto the lower part of his back, and your legs wrap around his hips.

another beat passes. “is that it?”

“yep.”

sukuna adjusts you, his hold on you becoming more secure as he rights himself to his full height. the warmth of your breath ghosts across his ear, and he can smell the scented lotion you applied this morning.

why hadn’t he done this before?

“soooooo,” you drawl, and he can hear the smile in your beautiful voice without even having to look. you’re so close — he hears the little inhale before you speak, the nearly imperceptible huff of laughter once you finish. “what are you just standing here for? we gotta walk around, explore the estate! it’s not fun if we’re just stuck in one place.”

“i am not a servant,” he warns, voice gruff, but he starts to move towards the throne room’s exit anyway. anyone unfortunate enough bows, mutters a jumbled greeting to the both of you, and scrambles out of the way.

it’s no secret that sukuna is more... benevolent, when you’re around. but that is a double-edged sword — if someone dares to disturb your peace or inconvenience you in his presence, they’d be facing a swift death, along with their parents for giving birth to such vermin.

“apologies, my spectacular husband.” you lean forward a bit and press a kiss onto his cheek, leaving a faint lipstick stain. “now, please, venture forth.”

he rolls his eyes. “if you command me again, woman, i am going to sprint.”

the teasing lilt quickly disappears from your voice, and your arms tighten around his neck. “n-no, that isn’t necessary.”

sukuna’s pace increases, now a brisk jog instead of a leisure walk, and you can hear the gravel crunching beneath his feet. “oh? is it not?”

“it isn’t!” you squeak. a little embarrassing, yes, but you know how fast sukuna is — you’re positive that if he broke out into a full-speed run, you’d be sick by the end of it.

“let’s find out and see.”

#﹒writing #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jjk sukuna #sukuna #sukuna fluff #ryomen sukuna #sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #ryomen sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x you

[eupheme]

— meet me in the woods

halsin x druid!reader/tav

rated e - 7.2k

tags: double druids, smut with feelings, aphrodisiac (in the form of a fertility solstice), mates/mating rituals, hinted at breeding kink, poly!halsin (but has a connection with you), pleasure dom!Halsin, canon-typical violence, masturbation, miscommunication, oral, PiV, size kink, multiple orgasms, cum play

Living in the city had muted your druidic powers, cut you off. That all had changed, in your journey across Faerûn. Something inside of you had cracked open - letting nature and instinct sink in.

And in spite of the feelings now burning inside you - you don’t know what it means to celebrate the Solstice. Luckily for you… Halsin is there to help you through your first.

The sky has started to slip from soft shades of blue to deep orange and purples. Your wrist aches from where you scrub at your hide armor, removing the layers of grime from the long days of travel.

Your eyes flick up, like they have three times already in the last ten minutes. Across the twist of smoke from the fire that Gale tends, a cauldron of stew that has begun to fill the camp with it's rich aroma.

To where he lounges. To where your eyes meet soft green.

You look away.

"Do you think he's looking at us?"

You don't mean to ask this question out loud. It's a thought that swirls in your mind - slipping between teeth and a tongue loosened from a warm afternoon under the sun and a flagon of crisp wine.

There's the cutting strike of shale against steel. Sharp eyes flicking across to where yours have slipped, once again.

A lip curling, with the click of a tongue.

"Chk. I've seen that look on a male before." Lae'zel's tone is knowing, the slightest hint of a smirk sent your way, as she sharpens the edge of her longsword, "A bear that wishes to devour."

You blink, glancing her way at the humor in her voice. Trying to ignore the fluttering flip in your stomach at the thought.

"Oh, I am not so sure he sees me that way." Your knuckles curl as they press into a stain, your eyes dropping in mock concentration.

A red eye cracks open near your hip, Astarion's head propped up on the wrap of your bedroll. Curled like a cat under the sun and with the wafting warmth of the fire - a hand coming up to shield the bright glare above.

If it had been anyone else lazing next to you, you might have asked them to lend you a hand with the basket of vegetables for the stew - the next in your long list of things to-do. But secretly, you were just pleased he chose to spend the afternoon near you.

"Gods - I took you for boring, darling. But I never took you for stupid." He sighs, with a stretch.

Well, you had been pleased.

He ignores your look of offense as he pushes himself up on an elegant elbow, chin propped in the cup of his hand, "I don't think he's stopped looking at you since he's joined us."

A wistful sigh, "It's enough to make me wish I had saved that child."

Before his nose wrinkles, as he reappraises that thought with displeasure.

"Appreciate that, friend." Your response to his earlier remark is flat, as he flops down again.

"Oh, don't be like that," He drawls, "You were the one who asked."

The misdirection is noted with a small huff of a laugh, as you turn back to work again. Flipping around their thoughts in your own mind.

How you wish that were true.

Your own feelings were no secret to yourself. There had been no pretending in your heart, after your first meeting. Even if you had not always known the strength of your powers, you had always known yourself.

There had been a near-instant attraction with your first meeting. A suspicion that there was something special about the bear trapped in the worg pens. That feeling blossoming with the fluttering in your stomach when he had changed - the depth of his thanks at your aid in protecting the Grove.

A seed had been planted then. A hope that perhaps, with time - with some tending - that there could be more. That feeling only grows since, flourishing, weaving its way between your ribs.

And lately, you think there has been something more. His laugh comes easier. An eagerness to join you when you left the camp. Never far from you, when you return.

You were the first one he turned to after the rage of battle.

“Are you well, teuivae?”

As if you could not mend your own wounds. The word that slipped from his tongue lost as his eyes searched - until he was satisfied that the blood splattered across your leather armor was not your own. Broad hands that cupped your face. Close enough to brush his own against yours, but instead he had hovered.

Waiting - but for what, you did not know.

It had you wondering. You suppose enough now that those thoughts have made their way out into the world. Not knowing what to do, with your friend’s confirmation.

That feeling only increases, the turn of the moon turning it into a surging weight in your chest. Something physical, that gnaws at you. Tipping past want and hurtling towards something that felt like need.

Your thoughts of desire running wild, until you can’t help but slip your fingers beneath the layers of your bedroll. Your teeth biting into the heavy fabric that muffles the quick circle of your fingers, the soft sigh of your relief.

It was hard not to. To see him that way, to want him.

He is kind. Almong the best Elves you have met. He could take care of you. Your mind tells you, now. Protect you.

A very instinctual thought, one that you’ve brushed aside. You don’t need protecting. How could one protect against the tadpole, better than you already are?

But the thought comes back.

He would keep you safe. You know that, as certain as the changing of the seasons.

How quick he already is to race to your side - all teeth and claws. Imagining the honor of sharing his bedroll, how he’d wrap around you…

Only now do you realize you’ve been staring - your damp rag hovering in your still hands. A small shake of your head as you concentrate on your work. Making a point not to look again, to push the thoughts from your mind.

You really needed to get a hold of yourself.

You’re still thinking about it later, as dusk settled. The sky now streaked with hues of purple and grey, the camp littered with small fires and torches. Bellies full of stew, content to wind down after the long day.

Under the stars, it's impossbile to ignore just how much things have changed.

In the city, everything had felt muted.

Even in the outskirts, the small towns you had flitted to. The desire to fit in cutting off your attunement with nature.

But, after the Nautiloid. After you had crashed down to the Wilderness. Met the others - truly embraced who and what you were - things had changed.

You felt more like yourself than ever.

Even when you thought your time left was marked by days. Hours.

The warmth of the sun against your face. Acres of trees, the bark rough beneath your fingers as you climbed.

It seeped into your skin. Invigorating you. That liminal space between beast and body melding as you changed freely, unrestrained by space or propriety.

It was freeing.

You didn't have a coven, in the city. A lone wolf - left to wander along.

Forgetting how it felt to channel the forces of nature, with the night air wrapping around you. A bond formed when you had met Halsin, your first prolonged contact with another Druid in years. Something had been planted, watered with admiration, carefully tended in the absence that had soon come.

An urge to stay at the Druid's Grove, once the fight was over. Something unlocking in you, a need for kinship.

It had been ignored - there had been no other option. But it was like part of you stayed cracked open. Inviting nature, the whims of Silvanus, to eddy inside you. Growing potent, under the wax and wane of the moon above.

Intimate feelings mixing their way in along the way. Undeterred by the quiet, shared murmurs. Of rumors and whispers of Halsin's many lovers - good natured ribbing about his scar.

You had often thought your heart was too large to belong to only one other. It had been a relief, when you heard Halsin speak the same, around the fire.

Not fearing a connection, but not limiting it. Like nature itself, he had said. His eyes had found yours - you had taken it as some sort of lesson, from the Archdruid.

Perhaps it had been an invitation, instead.

The thought is pleasing to you. Enough so that you think… you think it’s worth being brave for.

You can’t help but seek him out, once more. Thick arms cross over a broad chest as he talks, though you’re too far away to hear. But it doesn’t stop his gaze from finding yours over the top of Wyll’s head. The way his friendly smile softens, a look you suddenly feel certain is just for you.

One you return, as that thing inside your chest swells. Blooms.

You’ve trusted your gut so far.

You’re ready to trust it again.

There is a stirring. A rooting, something sprouting in his chest. A feeling that has flickered before, but never this strong.

It had been easy, for gratitude and respect to bleed into something more, after their first meeting. After seeing such a fierce little thing take down two goblins with the flash of sharp teeth, sharper claws. A worg following, almost bigger than themselves.

Few would have stood before him, after. A frown as ferocious as their bear-form as she had offered her own opinion on how to handle the Druid Kagha, though his sentence had already been bestowed.

It had been hard not to smile.

There had been more pressing matters that had kept him away, after. Denying the offer to join her - them - the Emerald Grove had needed him more.

But still, something had lingered.

A connection. Something invisible that ties them together, that has nothing to do with the being that squirms in her mind. It begins lower - beneath the cage of ribs and where, perhaps, something soft lies.

It has him feeling like a yearling again, in spite of his three hundred and fifty years amongst Faerûn.

As the moons have passed, he'd become too accustomed to the gleam of her fur, in the sunlight. Nearly blinding him. Eyes as sharp and a tongue as quick as his.

Her true form as pretty as a field of wildflowers, of the rainbow spray of colors against the mist of a waterfall.

Evenly matched, he has thought. More than once.

The sentiment settles in his bones, trapping him - a rabbit in a snare. Though he's not so desperate to be freed, as he might have thought. The idea of being tied down had never been appealing.

But there is no urge to leave. To walk amongst the forest again, to find his way back to the Druid's Grove, for Spring. To dance and join beneath the moon, like he had for so long.

A more singular focus taking over his thoughts, as the rite approaches. A deep-seated hope, his affections shown in the ways known by his people.

Many have begun their attachments in the span of evenings to follow. Perhaps they would take the same path, if is she was willing.

The thought is more than pleasing.

It has him seeking out the eyes that fall on him so often. Finding where they linger now, in the flickering of the fire. The look she gives him - one of consideration, one of seeing in a new light - is one he knows well.

The beast inside him can read the subtle looks like tracks in the mudbank. The glitter of lights in her eyes like runes - etching a message just for him.

Enough that when she turns from the fire, when she pushes herself so carefully up - slipping like a shadow, into the forest...

It's impossible not to follow.

You can feel him behind you, as you weave through the trees.

Anticipation, excitement, pricking up the hairs on the back of your neck. Guided by the stars that sift through the canopy of leaves above.

Your feet know the way, though your mind does not. Guided by something primal inside you, taking you to a small clearing.

Grass blankets the space, tucked away in the forest. Dotted with wildflowers, a break in the branches above to let down a shaft of moonlight.

The armor you once clung to left back at the camp. An innate knowledge that there was something special about this place - that you were safe here. Protected by your own abilities. Even more so, with him following.

There is much said, in the look that he gives you as you turn. The shift of his shoulders as he approaches, a slow nod of approval as his eyes sweep across the clearing.

“You’ve chosen this spot well. The Solstice, could you feel it?”

His words make you frown, suddenly unsure. The curve of his smile wanes at your silence, as he takes another step closer, “Is that not why you’ve come here?”

The hope you’ve carried sinks, settling low in your belly. So unlike the weight that was there before - one of hunger and desire.

“I must confess, I had been hoping.” He continues, with a cock to his head, “But it seems like we are on different paths.”

You have to answer him, you know this. It takes a second to gather your courage, this meeting quickly taking a much different turn that you have expected.

“I do not know anything of your Solstices. I came here because I hoped…” Your gaze drops, unable to look at him, “I had hoped that you would follow. That this night might be ours.”

A hand cups your jaw, tilting your head up. To your surprise he is smiling, his thumb stroking across your cheek, “Your answer relieves me. We are not so far apart. I thought I had been clear, but it seems you are still unsure of my intentions.”

Something flips in your stomach, melting the spray of ice that has coated your insides. A small flutter of hope, as your eyes search his green ones, “What do you mean?”

“I have become so accustomed to your presence, that I’ve forgotten that our ways are still unknown to you.” His voice softens, and you can’t help but lean into his touch - hanging on to each of his words, “I’ve been courting you for some time, now.”

Time freezes, for a moment. Your mind whirling past all the small moments you’ve collected - held so close to your chest. Reaching out to touch others that now made more sense.

Bringing you your share of dinner at the camp. A solving of the mystery of a fire that had been stoked during the night, an extra pelt placed over you for warmth. Caring for you.

You had mistaken them all for chivalry.

“-and I had thought you were accepting, tonight. With the beginning of the Solstice.”

“I must be dense.” You can’t help but smile, with a sensation of being able to breath again, “I had my own wishes, but I never knew-”

“I should have been more clear. Forgive me,” His hands touch his scars, his smile turning wry, “I thought it wise to let you set the pace of our journey.”

Hence his waiting for you to kiss him, after that battle. His following you, tonight.

Courage rises in you, once again.

“I want you to show me what it means to celebrate.”

He softens, for you. Hands dropping to entwine with yours, bending until your foreheads touch, “Then I am yours.”

The slightest tilt of his head, bringing your joined hands to point at the heavens.

“With the spring comes new beginnings. We lead the way, with the Solstice. Baring our flesh and joining beneath the moon, in an offering to the Oak Father.” His words are a low rumble, it’s impossible not to focus on his mouth, the way it quirks at his next words, “It is… rigorous.”

The heat that has simmered for weeks now flares to life, as his eyes darken.

Bu there's something small tickles at you, making you lean back. Your brow furrowing, needing the clarity.

"Is it just the Solstice that draws you to me?" Is it just duty that has ensnared his affections? Is this no more than fulfilling the desires of Silvanas?

He laughs, with a shake of his head, "If our first meeting had been in the Grove, your beauty would have been more than enough to enthrall me."

The knowledge is flattering. That he still would have wanted you, in another life, in another time. His next words are enough to cast the rest of your doubts aside.

"But make no mistake. For quite some time now, I have desired more. Deeper than the skin, down to the marrow." He brings your entwined fingers to his mouth, his lips pressing against your knuckles, "I fear you stole more than gold that day, in the Sanctum."

There is much that he reveals, with his words.

A sense that your feelings are more than reciprocated. A reminder that he does not mince words, like others you have known.

For as keen as your eyes are, you should have realized this sooner. The last curl of unease lifts, wafting up to stars above.

“How do we begin?”

“Eager. I like that.” Halsin grins - his eyes dragging over you, as his voice pitched low, “For starters… you are overdressed.”

With as large as his fingers are, they are dexterous as they tug at the tie of your tunic. A palm curling around your waist, tugging you close as your face tips up to his.

“And there is usually music.” He murmurs, dipping just enough to brush his mouth against yours, “But I am sure we can make our own.”

His name is a soft sound on your lips, before they press against his. Warm and solid and plush, a sigh in his throat as your hands reach up to grasp at broad shoulders. Slipping to tangle in his chestnut-colored strands, keeping him pulled close.

And you are reminded that he is strong. Abandoning your shirt when your tongue brushes his lip. Hands catching the underside of your thighs to haul you against him.

Your legs stretch wide around his waist. One of those hands moving to splay across the small of your back, a low growl rumbling as you nip at his lower lip.

Hunger gnaws at you, as he deepens the kiss. An ache to be closer, unable to get enough of the taste of him as he licks into your mouth.

Holding you against him as he sinks to his knees. Bringing you down against the blanket of grass, nestling you against it. A low chuckle at the way you still cling to him, entangling yourself around him like vines, as Halsin begins to tug at your clothes again.

Carefully, as if it's a gift to unwrap you.

"Come now, my love." He coos - another gentle tug, as you finally let go.

The air ghosts against your skin, warm with the changing of seasons. A low sound of approval with each layer that is stripped from you. The curl of a palm against your ankle, tugging off your boots. Heat pooling low, as fingertips brush up your thigh, settling at your belt.

"I long to see you bare beneath me."

He touches you as if he can't get enough. The sweep of his thumb over your thigh. Fingers joining yours as your hips lift, allowing him to peel your trousers down, and then off.

You think that perhaps it should feel strange, to be naked in the moonlight. But Halsin eclipses the brief fluttering of unease. The hunger in his expression captures yours, as he leans back to sit on his haunches.

So broad, so big. You think the desire must match in your own eyes, his sentiment so shared.

"Join me," You coax, a hand reaching for his thigh - feeling the muscles jump underneath.

His grin gleams in the moonlight, as he lets you start to do the same to him. Distracting you terribly as his hands skim from your waist to cup your breasts, teasing and pinching.

Only tearing the sleevless tunic from his shoulders before he's curling over you - his mouth pressing against your neck. Inhaling your scent with another low growl, his nose skimming over heated skin.

Those lips pressing against your throat, the threat of teeth as they part. You squirm beneath him, something inside you aching for him to bite down. To mark you.

You can feel his smile against your skin, his hands still teasing the tight peaks of your nipples. One drifting lower across sternum and belly, drifting across the curve of your mound.

It’s easy to arch into his touch, to urge his fingers lower. The sweep of his fingertips is so light, a summers breeze against your skin - a low hum of a laugh as your hips jerk again.

“I know it’s affected you.” There’s the slightest pressure - thick fingers split, tracing the crease where your thigh meets groin. Purposely avoiding where you need him, where you know you’re wet and wanting.

Another sharp intake of breath, before he’s pushing himself up to hover over you, “At camp. Your smell. It was difficult to hold myself back.”

He touches you, then. Twin moans as his fingers slip against slick flesh. Dripping, for him. Almost making you forget your words as the pad of his fingers circles your clit, as your hand brace against his biceps, nails biting skin.

“W-wasn’t the coming of Spring.” You protest - the rhythmic swipe of his fingers stealing your breath, “It was just you.”

The look he gives you then - it’s all soft edges, wrapped in a focus that’s so intense your eyes flutter shut. It’s too much, his gaze, his touch.

A low groan from his chest then, in recollection, “There were many nights lately where I wished to offer myself for your pleasure. Perhaps I should have.”

For your pleasure. Few would word it that way - conjuring images of him beneath you. His tongue tracing the same path of his fingers, your thighs pressing against the long points of his ears.

It makes you clench - the simmering fire in your belly sending up sparks, stoked by the way his head moves lower. Your fingers slipping to twist sharply in his hair, as his tongue peeks out to brush your breast.

“More, Halsin. I need you-” You pant, your free hand fitting under the bulk of his shoulder. Reaching to nudge his hand down lower, until his fingers are brushing your entrance.

He traces you, before he sinks into you, down to the first knuckle. His hands are so much bigger than yours, there’s already the slight stretching burn as he eases deeper.

The tilt of his head, chin pressing against your ribs. The fire burns in his own eyes, a heavy press of his hips against your thigh, letting you feel him.

“If we had been at the Grove, I would have hoped you would have chosen me as your mate for the duration of the three nights.” It’s a confession, the word mate ringing out - enthralling you, “Now, I do not know what tomorrow brings. I will give you all that I can, tonight.”

In a fluid motion, he moves. The ripple of muscles as he shifts between your thighs - their breadth stretching them too wide. Enough that you have to hook one over the curve his shoulder, before his head dips.

The heated swipe of his tongue hits you just as his finger presses deep and curls. You’re instantly thankful for his three hundred and fifty years, with the pointed exploration of his mouth.

A groan as he tastes you, those green eyes fixing on yours again. Fitting another finger into you as your heel digs into his shoulder, as your head tips back with a cry.

It’s too much. Pleasure skitters through your stomach, your hips moving on their own, matching the steady thrust of his fingers. How he drags them against a spot that makes you keen and squirm, before sliding them free to fit them between his lips.

Tasting the honey of your arousal, his lips already shining with you, before filling you again. Muscles clenching like the pull of a bow, waiting for the arrow to fire.

Halsin moans into your cunt like he’s feasting, like he truly means to devour you. His own hips pressing into the ground, easing his own need for friction.

Too practiced with the tight flicks of his tongue, the way his lips kiss and suck against the sensitive bud. The press of his fingers loud with how wet you are, matching your sharp, panting breath.

His name is a whimper before your muscles string even tighter. Going stiff as your breath catches, a pathetic whimper of a sound before you’re crying out.

The pleasure ignites, ripping through you as you come. As your thighs press around his ears, though he does not slow. Fucking you through it with his fingers, soft growls that buzz against your clit with each press of his tongue.

Leaving you breathless, boneless.

His mouth soft as kisses are pressed to your thighs, as you come back to yourself. It feels like you’re glowing, a soft haze settling over your limbs, down to the curl of your toes.

A broad hand smears your slick across his jaw, as he pushes himself up to kneel between your thighs. Where his cock strains against the leather of his leggings, tenting the soft fabric.

You ache to make him feel as good you feel. Something primal roars in your belly, as you follow him. Hands pressing against his chest, the flicker of shock turning warm as he lets himself be eased back.

Until it’s your thighs straddling his, moving up until your slick cunt is pressing against that heavy curve. His lips parting with a soft pant as you lean over him, your head dipping to kiss him.

He tastes like you, the sweet tang of your orgasm. Another shudder of pleasure coursing through you at the thought - as his hands find your hips, coaxing you to rock yourself against him.

Back home, you don’t know if you would have had the courage to climb this mountain of a man. But the images that flicker through your mind - the ones of him beneath you - are too strong, tugging at you. Beckoning your limbs to follow.

“I want to-,” You’re mumbling, between kisses, “Will you let me?”

“Follow your urges, my heart. Wherever they lead you, I am here.” His words sound strained, his hips flexing up, against you. More than content to be your guide, or to let you explore at your pace.

Your fingers drop to tug at his belt, with his consent. His hands coming to cover yours, lifting you with the rise of his hips. Freeing himself, his clothes joining yours on the forest floor.

It’s only here that you pause, as your thighs stretch across his waist. Where it becomes evident just how proportional he is - his cock full and flushed and heavy, curving up towards his stomach.

Unable to help touching him, his eyes fixed on the slight frown and then panic that flits across your features. A low rumble as your hand fits around him, your fingertips unable to touch.

“You-” You stammer, suddenly unsure, “Halsin, I don't know if I can-”

His eyes darken at your insinuation, his teeth flashing with his smile. Fingers curl around his base, tilting himself up. Pressing himself against your belly, the tip smearing a wet spot on your skin.

Measuring. Your grip tightens and he groans, his hips flexing into your touch.

His voice ragged, rough in the night air, “You can take me. Know you can, my love.”

You can’t pretend you’re not eager to try. Hands pressing against his chest, eyes flicking between his face and his cock, as you lift yourself up.

One leaving to hold him steady, taking a second to feel him slide against you. Muffling a sigh when he bumps against your clit, slicking him up with your release. Before you line him up, and start to sink down.

He splits you open. The pinch of his fingers against your hips hurts, as he tries to resist thrusting up into you. Even with your orgasm, your cunt slick with pleasure, he still stretches you wide.

Taking an inch, and then another. A tremble in your thighs as your knees press into the earth, a strangled whine as you make room for him.

His murmured encouragement catches in his chest, the moon and spring calling to him - only his experience keeping him from taking matters into his own hands.

A strong jaw ticking as you sink onto him, achingly slow - until your hips finally lie flush. Your hand flying to your belly, as if you could feel where he fits inside you.

His gaze is heavy, reverent. The press of fingertips against your skin as his grip eases, lips parting as you carefully begin to lift up - to rock back down.

The sensation flickers through you like faerie fire, the slow and sweet drag of him. Making you feel impossibly full, your head dipping down to hang between your shoulders. Hands curling into the hair covering his chest, as you figure out how to move.

It’s impossible to describe. A desire like you’ve never known bites at you, curling in your belly. You think perhaps you understand now - this need to bring forth the Spring and celebrate its arrival. It’s been something inside of you this whole time, waiting for guidance.

You have it, now.

“I-I did not think there was anything that could rival your touch,” Your words some out shaky - your thighs already twinging with the effort of moving. The steady rise and fall of your hips, the hitch in your breath when he sits flush within you, “I am happy to be wrong.”

The corner of his lip lifts in a snarl, but it’s one of pleasure. Just as gone as you are, with the drag of his eyes from your face, down to where you bounce on his cock. The thick peek of him each time your rise, shining with your slick.

It’s enough that his hands slip lower. Fingers slipping to rub at you again, each time you sink down.

“Use me, then.” He rasps, “Come on, sweet one. Take your pleasure.”

Your heart races, breath caught in your throat at his words, his touch. The slow pace increasing, as you try to do what he says.

Instincts flooding wisdom, drowning it out - tilting your hips until your thighs tremble, as he knocks against a sweet spot inside you.

Again, and then again. His eyes are fixed on you now, and the look he gives makes you clench - coveting his attention. Wanting him to only look at you, tonight.

To sear the feeling of you into his memory, as he has done to you. You think there is nothing that could make you forget tonight.

To forget this swirl of magic, as if you’re tethered to the ground, the sky, him - all at once. Utterly free at the same time, your body moving on its own without inhibition, encouraged by the sound of his moans.

The clench of teeth - the heavy press of hips that have begun to snap upward, no longer able to hold back.

“Oh gods-” You keen. Once, and then again - a grinding circle of your hips against his fingers, as that feeling inside you threatens to burst again.

Halsin chases the rock of your hips now with his own, with his fingers. His laugh rough, caught between his teeth.

“The gods may be listening, little one. But only I will answer.”

It makes you shudder, makes you beg.

“I’m so close. Please don’t stop.”

His fingers stay true. Pressing just a little harder, a jostle of his thighs as his feet plant against the ground. Fucking up into you now, as your pace falters. Too focused on the rushing white noise in your ears, the feeling that’s so big that it feels like you’ll choke on it.

“Let me feel you.” The words are muted, miles away. Digging into your skin to weave around your ribs, “Sweet one, come on-”

Your cry rips from your lungs, as you tip over the edge. He’s there to catch you, the steady pound of his hips as your own legs fail you. Fingers sweeping as the pulse of your cunt matches the heartbeat in your ears, clenching around him as you find your release.

Pushing himself up to meet you, as your arms wrap around him. Letting you chase the last waves of pleasure with the grind of your hips, your mouth panting into his neck.

A sweet sweat beading at the nape of your neck, across your skin. Your head turns just enough to meet his, his hand coming up to curl around the back of your neck.

To hold you to him, hovering over him, as he buries himself in you again. Again and again, until he is panting as you steal kisses. Tasting where you still linger in his tongue, another melding of your spirits.

“How do you want me?” His eyes are bright, hands slipping down to cup your ass, to help you ride him, “My heart, I fear I won’t last-”

You had made a pretty coin, brewing herbs and potions. Enough that you could do it in your sleep, your talents extending to camp. Teas of protection brewed openly and without shame.

The need for him to spill in you floods your senses, your own breath ragged at the thought.

“In me, my bear.” You beg, leaning back - the snap of your own hips sharp and loud, “I need you in me.”

The groan he makes is laced with relief. The feeling coursing through him as well - an innate need to spill himself into your cunt. To rut himself into you, until you’ve taken every drop.

Your name is ragged on his lips, as his thrusts turn shallow. As you take over, riding him until his hands grasp at your waist, as he goes stiff beneath you.

He throbs, a warmth flooding deep inside you. A pretty sight, his strong back arching into you - lips parted, hair streaming loose amongst the wildflowers. A snap of teeth as he grinds against you until you drip with him, too full of his cock to keep everything inside.

Fully joined, beneath the moonlight.

Afterwards, you melt against him. A hand smooths down your back as your fingers wander. Across the fur of his bare chest, the curve of his lip. The swirls of scarred and tattooed skin - your lips following.

He’s beautiful beneath you. Eyes content and half-lidded as an arm tucks beneath his head. A little inhale of breath - his broad chest rising as your lips move to his neck.

If you were Volo you think that, perhaps, you’d write a song about this. But that would mean that you would not be with him now, and the thought all but fills you with agony.

That hand on your waist tightening as you push the thought away - stretching up to reach the curve of his ear, a groan as your tongue traces the point.

It moves you against him. His cock slipping part-way out, only to sink deep again with your exploration.

He’s still hard, achingly so. You’re more sure whether it is a blessing of Silvanus or just him - this being so perfectly crafted in nature’s image.

Your teasing winds him up, even as his release leaks from you, shining against your thighs. A groan buzzes against your lips, where they still press against his throat.

A shifting beneath you, a pointed lift of his hips that nudges him against that sensitive place inside you.

“Let me take you, once more,” He husks, his face tipping up to yours. Knuckles brushing your cheek, tender in spite of the fire burning in his eyes, “Like the Oak Father intended.”

Desire still burns in you. An ache at the thought of having him another time, enough that you’re pushing yourself up to straddle him.

Nodding, your begging “please” making him smile, as he pushes himself up on an elbow. His eyes raking over your body, bathed in the glow of moonlight. Where he’s still buried deep, kept warm by you.

Before he’s moving. Hands gripping at your waist - a soft whine when he lifts you off him. His cock flushed and shining where it rests against his belly, as he rolls you beneath him.

“Hands and knees, my love.”

You’re eager to do so. The grass soft against your palms as your knees press into the ground. Arching your back - feeling the weight of his gaze as his thighs brush against yours.

The curve of his cock pressing against you, as he squeezes the flesh of your ass. His touch reverent and hungry, grinding himself against your core as he groans.

“If I could keep but one image in my mind, it would be this one.”

You moan at his praise, rocking back to meet his press of his hips. His hand dropping to wrap around his slick cock, notching it at your entrance.

Holding himself there as his chest presses against your back - warm, as his other arm wraps around your middle. It does something to you. The position, the feel of him overwhelming you.

“Halsin-” You pant, each second ticking by feeding into your desperation, “Why do you wait?”

“My impatient little she-bear,” He laughs, but the sound is strained with you beneath him, “Do not fear, I will give you what you want.”

And he does, the thick tip of him parting you. Sinking deep with a rough thrust of his hip, making you cry out as he fills you.

You had thought he was big before, when you rode him. But you had been in control - taking him at your own pace. Bouncing at your leisure, aided by the span of your hands against his muscular chest for balance.

Now, it feels like he’s in your throat, as he seats himself completely. As you make room for him, gripping him so tightly he chokes on a breath, fingers biting into your skin.

Yours wrap around his wrist, braced against the grass for balance. Nails biting into skin as he noses at your neck, his breath warm where it ghosts against your skin.

A kiss pressed there, so tender that you feel yourself relaxing. Rocking your hips back, whimpering at the feeling of his cock dragging against your walls.

“Take me,” You beg, wanting more, “Feels so good, I want you-”

He groans, and you can feel him throb inside you. There’s the sharp snap of his hips, starting shallow. Sliding out further each time, until pleasure is crackling against your skin.

The little clearing filled with the sounds of your joining. Panting breaths and the slick sound of you taking him. Fucking his own cum deeper into you, lewd with the way you cry out when his cock grinds against that spot. When the heft of his balls kiss your clit again and again, heavy with his arousal.

It feels right. Halsin’s body pressed against your back, bending you until your chest is flattened against the grass. Fingers finding purchase in the strands and flowers, giving you something to hold onto as his thighs crash against yours.

Each deep thrust pushed your breath from you with a soft whine, leaving you panting.

Trapped beneath him, until all you can do is take it.

Squirming against the cage of his chest and arms.

Fuck me. Take me. Fill me-

It comes from deep inside you. The want to be filled. An ache at knowing he’s already spent himself, that each thrust brings him closer to a second.

You must say the words out loud because he makes a noise that sounds wounded. A stutter of his hips, his words a jagged rasp, “Let go, my love. I've got you.”

So, you do. Releasing your hold on that last ounce of control. Leaving yourself in his hands, letting your sounds and cries flow freely. Embracing the mounting pleasure as it swirls through you.

You babble - half-formed words as he holds you against him. Shifting when he hears you sob, rutting himself against the spot that sends you up to the stars above. The broken “oh, oh, oh’s-” bleeding into “Gods, Halsin-”

His teeth press against your neck, pinching against your skin, “Give yourself to me.”

The arm curve around your waist moves. Fingers carefully wrap around your hair until it’s fisted in his grip. Pinning you further as he pants in your ear, soft grunts and growls that sound like music in the night air.

Not stopping until you’re shuddering beneath him. Until he feels the tight pulse of your cunt, his own release not far behind. As sweet as the taste of you, as your muscles jump under his touch, as you arch and claw at the grass below you.

It’s bliss. It feels like you’re channeling the forest itself. Feeding off the pleasure that radiates from him. The new beginning of the season, the pull of the moon above.

The Gods are pleased, you think dizzily, they must be, for I have never felt like this.

The slap of his hips is louder, as you soak him. An overwhelming instinct to claim you, as his teeth sink into the curve between neck and shoulder.

Holding you still against him as he growls. Eyes flashing gold as you cry out again - pleasure and pain melding as your orgasm flares out, beginning to ebb in sweet bursts. As the sensation drags him along to find his own end.

Spilling into you a second time with a shout. His hips moving on their own, shallow thrusts with each pulse of his cock. Your head twisting to meet his mouth, a press of teeth and tongue as you swallow his groans.

Until his strength is all but sapped from him.

Until he is more man that beast again, those eyes soft and green again - a field of clover on a bright spring day.

It’s an easy thing, to take you with him to the forest floor. To curl around you - blocking your smaller form from the midnight chill that’s begun to creep in.

Warm and strong - an arm wrapping around your hip, a large hand splaying across your belly. As if those thoughts still lingered.

Still pressed inside you, keeping you filled with him. You think you’d be content to stay like this all night. Longer, if there was not more work to be done, tomorrow. More paths to be taken.

It’s not long though, before you find yourself shifting. Dozing in his grip, a sleepy rock of your hips in an effort to feel him move in you again.

“Oak Father, preserve me.” Halsin stirs behind you, as he huffs into your hair, “Insatiable little thing. And to think I worried about you lasting through the solstice.”

Your teeth bite into your lip as you grin, as his arms wrap more tightly around you.

“I should have been concerned about myself. This old bear needs rest, little one.”

But even with his low rumbling, his hand drifts. The pad of a finger brushing against your clit, sending another shot of pleasure coursing through you.

Your thighs part, a knee bending to give him access. Another soft whine as his circles against skin that is slick with his release, as his hips slowly match the lazy rhythm.

“Do not worry, my love. I will not leave you wanting.” He rasps.

“And there are many left hours until dawn.”

omg I started playing recently and I am so in love with this game. this was so much fun, I hope you enjoyed! I love Druids so much (and am playing one) and thought they for sure would have a 👀festival👀 of some kind and wanted to explore that in the context of like, act ii/iii (I am still playing so please let me know if I got any lore wrong!!)

Teuivae – ‘Moonlight’

(tags: @samspenandsword, @amywritesthings)

#halsin x reader #halsin x you #halsin x tav #bg3 halsin #halsin bg3 #bg3 x reader

[queers-gambit]

Adore Her, Dior Her

prompt: ( requested ) what good is having all that money if he can't spend it on the woman he loves?

pairing: Mafia!Bucky Barnes x female!reader

fandom masterlist: Marvel

word count: 4.3k+

warnings: author foams at the mouth for Mafia AUs, overwhelming fluff, cursing, not edited.

"That's the one. That's one we should get!"

"You've said that about the past three dresses, Buck!" You groaned, smoothing your hands over the skirt. "We need to narrow this down, okay? The wedding's in a month!"

"Why did we even agree to go?"

You glared, "'Cause we love my brother and we're supporting him."

"But she's just so - "

"Jen. Her name's Jen."

Bucky nodded, leaning back on the cushioned chair, "Well, Jen's just wrong for him. Literally the definition of toxic."

"Does it count if they're toxic together? To each other?" You sighed, standing on the pedestal and turning to look in the three mirrors beside the dressing room.

"Of course it does," he stood, buttoning his suit jacket out of habit. He approached you, head cocking as he looked your body up and down to get the full view of the gown you tried on. "You're really okay letting him marry her? Turn this way a bit, baby, lemme see the front."

You scoffed, but took his offered hand and twisted on the small platform towards him, "You were there at Christmas, he doesn't listen to reason. So, if Daniel's convinced Jen's for him, as his sister, my only job is be supportive."

"They literally abuse each other," he pointed out.

"Well, he's not changing his mind. Okay? It's been three years, he won't budge, whenever someone brings up them breaking up, he goes into hiding - so, I don't know what else I can do," your hands slapped your thighs when you shrugged, "except just be there for him. Now, focus, please, help me narrow a dress down."

He shook his head as you turned to face the mirrors again, "Actually, you know what? I don't think anything in this store is for us."

The attendant perked up and scurried over, rushing, "Oh, well, we have a much larger selection in the back, Mr. Barnes - "

"That won't be necessary, Barbra, thank you, though," he nodded. "Doll," his hand planted on your waist, head over your shoulder as you still looked yourself over in the mirrors, "go get changed, I know where we need to go."

"Bucky, no, there's plenty of options here," you argued, twisting on the wee little pedestal to face him again. "We don't need to drop a stack on a dress - "

"You let me worry about the price tag," he smirked, leaning in to peck your cheek. "Just go change, pretty girl, c'mon. Step-to!"

You offered Barbra, the attendant, an apologetic smile as you shuffled back into the changing room; quickly stripping from the dress. When you exited in your street clothes, Bucky was tipping the aged woman for her effort in gathering your options, but the moment he saw you, his hand was extending to hold yours tightly.

"What was wrong with that store?" You asked when you stepped onto the noisy and busy street to approach the sleek, tinted car Bucky drove for day-to-day errands.

"We're not shopping at David's fucking Bridal."

"You literally drove us here," you laughed.

"Yeah, and then I had a much better idea," he smirked at you, unlocking the car and opening your passenger door. "C'mon, princess, just gotta trust me."

"Last time you said that - "

"That wasn't my fault," he groaned, cheeks flaring red in embarrassment. When you opened your mouth to retort, he rushed, "Aht, nope, don't say shit. C'mon, I'm taking you somewhere special so get that pretty ass in the car."

He grinned when you laughed and did as bid, feet safely inside when he closed the door after you were settled. Bucky easily jogged around the back of his car, New York busy this time of year as traffic flew past on the street and forced Buck slow. He dropped into the driver's seat, sniffling slightly.

"Reminds me," Bucky smirked as he pulled onto the street, "how would you feel about us going to Aspen this winter?"

You sighed, "Why?"

"You wanna stay in New York for Christmas?"

"Well, yeah! It's so magical."

"Okay, so, we can go over New Years?"

You sighed, "You know, we don't have to go anywhere..."

"Sweetheart," he cleared his throat, "I actually have some business in Aspen, this will just help determine when I schedule the meetings for."

"Oh," you nodded slowly.

He sighed, "I know my job isn't orthodox, but business is business, right, sugar?”

"No, yeah, yeah, I get it. It sounds kinda nice, maybe we can go skiing."

"You know how to ski?"

"No, but I'm sure someone in Aspen could help teach me."

Bucky grinned. The drive was full of easy conversation, neither you nor Bucky dwelling on his business dealings, always feeling as if it was taboo given his station in the Mafia. So when he pulled up in front of a designer store, you gawked. "Now, if we can't find something here - "

"Um, absolutely not," you laughed. "Bucky, I can't even afford to walk into a place like that!"

"Good thing I'm paying," he smirked. He assisted you out of the car, tossing his keys to one of his security guards who had been following in a separate, tinted vehicle. When you both entered the dimly lit store, you were blown away by the gorgeous minimalist design; warm lighting, open floor space, and racks of different clothing options.

"Ah, Mr. Barnes! Hello, hello, hello!" A new attendant greeted with more enthusiasm than you would've greeted any of your clients, approaching you two. She shook your boyfriend's hand vigorously, "To what do we owe this pleasure?"

Bucky wrapped his arm around your waist, "Looking for a dress to wear to a wedding."

She offered you a forced smile, telling your boyfriend swiftly with her teeth on full display, "You came to the right spot!"

"See?" Bucky smirked at you. "All right, Valeria, what's first?"

Valeria waved you both onward to a private changing room, offering complimentary sparkling waters, coffees, teas - even offering to go retrieve anything you two would want from the Starbucks down the block. Valeria took your measurements and dress size, making idle chit-chat with Bucky and making it obvious he was a regular in the store, then scurrying off to collect an armful of options.

"This is - wow," you nodded in impression, petting the material of the display dresses hung along the wall.

"Like it?"

"It's growing on me," you eased with a small shrug, hearing Bucky chuckle and for his phone to chime. You perused the place as he became glued to the little device, sat in front of the dressing rooms.

Valeria returned with another attendant carrying coffees. "Right this way, Mrs. Barnes," Valeria directed you into a changing room, missing the giddy look you sent Bucky over your shoulder at being called his wife. "All right, so," she sighed, hanging up the dresses she selected, "I think these are modest enough for a wedding, but still glamorous to turn a few heads."

You hummed, "They're kinda short, don't know if that's the energy I want to be giving off at my brother's wedding."

"They'll fit differently once on but we can always accommodate," she assured, pulling one from the hanger. "Here we go," she assisted you, zipping you in and looking you over. "Oh, it's just darling on you! Look at that, not a single hair outta place, right?"

You giggled lightly, "It's certainly pretty."

"Shall we show Mr. Barnes?"

You nodded, following her out to reveal Bucky sitting on a plush loveseat, sipping his coffee. His eyes widened when he saw you, nodding, "Oh, yeah. This is what I'm talking about."

"Hush, we're only buying one."

His eyes rolled, "I'll buy the whole damn store if I want."

"You don't own it already? Hm," you teased, perking your brows.

"Keep sayin' shit, I'll cut a check right now - "

"Bucky," you tisked, moving to the runway mirrors. "It's a little tight, isn't it?"

"It's snug," Valeria agreed. "Is there a color scheme for the wedding?"

"Um," you paused, "I'm not sure - I just know it's in winter, like, in a month."

"Maybe a pretty powder blue?" She looked to Bucky, who nodded. "Or how about a pale green? Like an olive tone?"

"She looks gorgeous in anything," Bucky smirked from behind you, taking another pull of his coffee.

"What about that brown number?" You asked, ignoring the way his compliments made you feel like the only girl he's ever seen in the world.

"You have a very good eye, Mrs. Barnes," Valeria nodded. She asked her coworker to go find your size, taking you back into the dressing room. You narrowed down the options without changing again, not wanting anything black or dark since it was a wedding and not a funeral. Though, you knew Bucky would disagree.

You showed your boyfriend a pretty little green dress, but he shook his head. "I thought the black was nice," he told you.

"I'm not wearing black to a wedding," you laughed lightly. "It screams bad luck to me, don't you think?"

"Think it's more of a statement, sayin' the entire event is a sham and they shouldn't be doing this," Bucky snickered, the other attendant, Laura, returning with a pretty brown dress. "That satin?" He asked, rubbing the material when it was presented to you both.

"It's very fashionable now," Laura nodded, "and it's not too dark."

"Since when is it a rule to not wear dark colors to a wedding? I miss the memo?" Buck leaned back to his seat.

All three women offered him a small look, you chuckling under your breath before Valeria was leading you back into the changing room. "If I may, Mrs?" She spoke softly, "I've known Mr. Barnes for a number of years but he's never brought anyone into the store. Then, one day, he tells me he needs a new suit because the 'girl of his dreams' had agreed to a date, and every time since then?" She smiled softly at you, "He's sang your praises. I'm very honored you're trusting me with helping you today."

"Oh," you blinked in shock, giggling nervously, "well, thank you very much, Valeria, now I know why his suits are always top of the line." She waved you off, making you add, "And for the record, I'm not Mrs. Barnes, guess that'd be his mother, wouldn't it?"

"Oh," her eyes widened, gasping softly, "oh, I'm so sorry, I didn't know, I just - he talks so highly about you - "

"No, it's okay, it's okay," you rushed, patting her arm. "I actually kind of like it..."

She hummed, zipping you into another dress, "You know, he's the reason my girl and I are together."

"Really? How'd that happen?"

Valeria chuckled, "He's very bold, your man. We were getting coffee one day, discussing his wardrobe for a business trip he had in Hong Kong, when my lady walked in. I went all silly and stupid, and Mr. Barnes just," she shook her head with a fond smile, "brazenly asked her out for me, in front of the whole shop."

"Oh, Jesus, yeah - sounds like him."

"Well, luckily, it worked, else I don't think he would've come back for my assistance. I was so embarrassed, you have no idea, but my lady - Charlie - thought it was charming and cute. Mr. Barnes hasn't let me live it down since. Says he demands an invite to the wedding." She met your eyes through the mirror, offering, "And I'd be really happy to give him a plus one, hmm?"

"You're so sweet," you whispered, turning to survey the dress. You spent the better part of three hours there, trying on dress after dress, nitpicking almost everything as you just weren't sure what to wear. Bucky wasn't much help, he just approved everything.

So, it was up to Valeria and Laura to help you; bringing out iPads and design books, trying to piece something together that best fit your comfort and the vibe of the wedding. You didn't want to look like a walking money bag since your family wasn't by any means wealthy, thinking it would be a slap to their faces since your boyfriend could spend his money without ever thinking about it. You didn't want to give your family any reason to talk behind your back.

"I like the brown satin," Laura offered softly, looking you over in the mirror. "But the blue is just wow, it really looks like it was made for you, doesn't it?"

"Yes, but I think the green compliments her eyes more," Valeria cocked her head in thought. "Are you wearing your hair up or down?"

"Up," you answered, trying to mimic the look by pulling your locks off your shoulders, "with thin jewelry, I think."

"Diamonds?"

"Pearls, if I can find a dress that looks nice with it," you smiled, seeing Bucky's reflection in the mirror watching you with a soft smile on his face; head titled in thought before his phone chimed again and warranted his attention. "Maybe we could try the pink dress?" You looked to the two women for an opinion.

"No," Valeria shook her head, "it washes you out. And pink in winter? Oh, sweetie, I'd lose my job if I let you leave here with that. Guess that means you'll have to come back in the spring, right?"

You grinned in response as Laura chimed in, "The green's actually really nice, but the brown looks much better with your body type." Then she turned to Bucky, prompting, "Mr. Barnes? Final decision - which dress?"

Bucky paused, musing, "Lemme see them all again, get one last taste. It's between the green and brown numbers?"

"Or the blue," Valeria nodded. "C'mon, sweetie," she offered her hand to help you off the wee runway you were perched on in front of the magnificent mirrors.

"You look sensational in them all, doll, how the hell am I supposed to choose just one?" Bucky teased, his canines on display from the broad grin that stretched his lips.

"You'll find a way," you answered.

"Awh, telling me Mr. Big-Tough-Manly-Business-Man who makes impossible decisions everyday can't choose a simple piece of fashion?" Valeria tacked on.

"You guys can't pick either!" He laughed, "And you do a helluva lot more shopping than I do!"

Laura, Valeria, and you paused to exchange looks, you pointing at Bucky and relenting in a drawl, "Touché."

When you were escorted back into the dressing room, Laura waiting outside the door for your privacy with Valeria, Bucky sat back on the plush loveseat and extended his one arm over the back of the seating. He smirked to himself, shaking his head as if in disbelief - but he was. Bucky was in disbelief.

How did a rugged Mob boss find himself here? Watching his girl like a private fashion show?

His whole life, all he knew was turmoil, pain, drama, and fear. He knew he would inherit his father's well-built organization after he passed and knew what this life would entail; having no preconceived notions about a quiet life. He knew he would have to be tougher than tough, adaptable, intelligent, and confident in his role as the head of the 3-6 Brooklyn Mob. Knowing the idea of a family was farfetched, knowing he'd never know the simple pleasures in life, that he would constantly be on the move - in-able to form real, sentimental, emotional connections. He knew, in this life, he'd remain alone for everyone's best interest and safety, indulging in a series of flings and one-off relationships that couldn't haunt him.

Yet they did. These encounters reminded Bucky how alone, how stranded, how isolated, how different he was. Instead of satisfying an unquenchable thirst, these fleeting partners became heavy anchors to Bucky's reality and reminded him that there was no such thing as love - nor was there any room or logic.

And then... He met you. Bucky's lips silently spread in a grin as he remembered meeting you at a bakery; purchasing the last slice of coconut cream pie to your absolute chagrin. He thought you were gorgeous, something ethereal and unobtainable; authentic, raw, and unfiltered - things his one night stands could never measure up to. So, he offered you the slice of pie if it meant giving him your number as currency.

After that, it was impossible for Bucky to consider ever being alone again because you were the sun; center of the universe that drew everyone into your orbit. He was smitten, content, excited to date you, turned on by the fact you had no idea who he was - a rare occurrence in the city. You were pure as fresh snow; sweet, kind, affectionate, attentive, and borderline overly empathetic.

Bucky knew he was in love with you after only a few weeks when he had shown up at your apartment, dripping in blood. You didn't panic like he feared you would, just checked up and down the hallway before yanking him into your home. You cleaned him up, tending to wounds, offering a safe space for him to relax in; making mindless conversation to help distract him from the pain he endured.

And now? Now, Bucky was sat in Dior, giving his opinion on your wedding guest dress; wondering how he allowed himself to get to this point of being domestic. Bucky wasn't a man to give his opinion on dresses, what color nail polish you should use, to send fresh bouquets of flowers every other week. Yet here he was, sipping too-expensive coffee, deciding between brown, green, and blue dresses that he never would've batted an eye at.

However, that was just the domino effect you caused in his life. You were sweeter than apple pie, becoming Bucky's one tether to reality that saved him from losing himself in this dark, criminal mindset he adopted. You didn't know it, but you had transformed Bucky from a brooding asshole into a boyfriend; someone you were proud to claim and never hid from - never shied away from. He admired the way you came to terms with his job, knowing it was a hard pill to swallow and yet noting the way you just accepted him as he was.

Bucky realized in that moment that he adored this new aspect of life after thinking it was impossible to obtain. He adored sitting here, offering opinions on dresses, his security left outside instead of hovering over him like a brutal reminder he was seedy. He loved having you to come home to, he loved being part of your mundane world - a person who went to weddings, who drank Starbucks, who asked her boyfriend his opinion about how she looked in dresses. Who thought bouquets of flowers were romantic, who baked him homemade cakes for his birthday, who worked overtime in order to afford his Christmas or birthday presents, who walked to the takeout place instead of paying for delivery.

All that you are, Bucky adored deeply; falling in love with you each and every single day. All he wanted to do was protect you, share his life with you, even pick out outfits for weddings you would attend. He knew if any of the men in his organization knew the extent of his affection, they'd surely weaponize it against him... Or at the very least, tease him relentlessly. Yet he never cared, knowing you wanted to be loved out loud instead of hidden away in a storage closet; but did care if it meant his enemies could use you to get to him. It was a risk, an occupation hazard for loved ones to become targets, but that only made Bucky so much more protective of you.

Laura glanced at Bucky and saw the fond smile soften to let his teeth trap his bottom lip, smiling at the Mob boss looking soft, content, smitten being there. She knew most boyfriends would never put this much effort into helping their girlfriends in the fashion department, thinking he must've been truly in love to look so at-ease. Plus his enthusiasm through the entire ordeal assured her that Bucky was genuinely enjoying himself.

Once again, you slipped into the blue dress and showed Bucky. He hummed and snapped a photo, asking you to turn this way and that. Then you tried the green dress, him taking another photo, and finally, you changed into the brown satin dress, facing Bucky for his final verdict.

Bucky hummed in contemplation, swiping through the photos. "You know what?" He asked, looking at you with a grin. "You look delectable in everything, I can't decide - so, let's just get them all."

"Bucky, no - "

"We'll take all three, Valeria, please," Bucky interrupted you.

You waited until the attendants left you alone with a knowing look shot in your direction to ring up the desired purchases, hip cocking and hands to your hips. With an underlying exasperation, you questioned, "What the hell, Buck?"

He grinned and stood, again, buttoning his suit jacket, "C'mon, princess, this is fun, right? Being spoiled?." His arms wrapped around your waist, looking down at you as if you hung the very sun that sucked him into your orbit. "What's the point of all my money if I can't spend it on you? Huh?"

"You can save it for a rainy day?"

He shrugged, "Not necessary."

"Maybe pay to send some underprivileged kids to go to college?"

"Well, there's a thought," your boyfriend mused, "but I already do that through the Stark Foundation. I sponsor a few scholarships."

"Okay, well, buying all three still doesn't help me decide what to wear," you chuckled, you mimicked his action and wrapped your arms tightly around the base of his ribs. Due to his height, your head had to tip backwards to meet his eyes with a small smile.

You could look at this gorgeous man all day, everyday if God ever permitted such an act. Why wasn't dating a paid activity? You'd be the top earner with the way you were absolutely enthralled with all Bucky Barnes was. And what an honor it was to earn his mutual adoration.

"We'll figure it out at home. Gotta get you moving in the material to make an honest judgement," he offered softly. "But you look gorgeous in all of them, baby, seriously. Like, drop dead gorgeous that makes every girl brim with jealousy. Shit, doll, you're gonna run the risk of outshining the bride."

You sighed, "Look, Buck, I appreciate what you're doing, but three designer dresses? Where the hell am I ever gonna wear them? What kinda event calls for overpriced fashion statements?"

Buck eased with a soft expression, "Guess I'll just have to take you out so you can put them all to good use, huh?"

"That's not a solution!"

"Is to me," he let a hand drift to roughly palm the meat of your ass cheek over the brown satin; another symptom of him being whipped, his comfort over public displays of affection. "Seriously, doll, how the hell did I get so lucky?"

"Hmm?"

"Just look at you, my girl," he chuckled lightly, "radiant in anything you put on. It's almost unfair, makes me wonder what I did so right to have someone like you I can call my own. I can't wait to show you off in those dresses, just look so Goddamn tantalizing. I mean, damn, baby, I'm gonna have to fight off men with my gun and the jealous women with a stick."

"You do realize we're already dating, you don't have to lay it on so thick."

"And you do realize being with you makes me the luckiest bastard in the city, right? Least I can do is spoil you, I've already got everything else I've ever wanted."

Your heart swelled at his words, sighing gently as your chin rested on his chest to keep your head tilted. Softly, you admitted, "I don't think you're the lucky one, pretty sure the honor's mine. I couldn't ask for anything more in a man - in a partner. I'm so fucking in love with you, Bucky, it honestly doesn't make sense."

He nodded, asking, "Know what else doesn't make sense?"

"What's that?"

"You refusing those dresses, I mean, c'mon!" He laughed, you groaning and releasing your hold; making his tighten to prevent you from escaping. "Those dresses look phenomenal on you, you really gonna reject my gift? C'mon, you know the rules, doll, if you adore her, you Dior her." You were ready to retort, but Bucky smiled, "For the record, I think you should wear the blue dress to the wedding."

"Blue it is," you smiled, lifting onto your toes and hooking a hand around the back of his neck to meet his lips in a scratchy kiss. "Thank you so much, baby," you whispered, feeling his lips spread against yours before he brought you back in for a much-more passionate kiss. "Hm!" You hummed, pulling away to scold, "But no more, all right? You spend too much money on me - I mean, who the hell needs three designer dresses?"

"You do," he whispered, "you deserve all of this, sugar, and I'll do what I can t'spoil you the way you should be. Might as well get used to it, I got no plans on stopping."

Your eyes rolled in good faith, excusing yourself, "Yeah, yeah, all right. Lemme get changed and we can - "

"Nah," he shook his head, petting the skin of your back exposed from the brown satin dress with his fingertips, "know what? Stay in the dress, I wanna take you out and show you off."

Your lips found his in a breath-sucking kiss, trying to convey your appreciation and giddiness over never having been spoiled like this in your entire life - feeling grateful, refreshed, and privileged for a man like Bucky in your life. Whatever greater force there was in this world, you thanked repeatedly for choosing you to love this man and for this man to love you. There was no telling what you did to deserve him, but blessed be those heavenly powers.

requesting rules and masterlist

MCU masterlist

#bucky barnes #mob!bucky #mob!bucky barnes #mafia!bucky #mafia!bucky barnes #mob bucky #mob bucky barnes #mafia bucky #mafia bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female!reader #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes x fem!reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x fem reader #mafia bucky barnes x reader #mafia bucky barnes x female!reader #mafia bucky barnes x f!reader #mafia bucky barnes x fem!reader #mafia au #bucky mafia au #mafia bucky au #mafia bucky x female!reader #mafia bucky x reader #mafia bucky x you #mafia bucky x y/n #mob bucky au #mob bucky x reader #mob bucky x you #mob bucky x y/n

[kimhargreeves]

A Flashy Act part 2-Buggy x Reader (smut)

Summary: Buggy has decided to question you behind curtains in his private room, which leads you both to share an intimate moment together.

(A/N: The people have spoken and I delivered!! Enjoy this spicy Buggy smut for all you weird clown fuckers like myself. Special thanks to everyone who liked my post! I didn't expect it to become popular in just a day. Anyone enjoy cause this is nasty..or spicy however you want to look at it. A part 3 may be done once I finish the show since I'm on ep 3.)

(Tag list: @pookiesnatcher @alejandro0-0 @ghostlycrystobalove @lenu-i

"Luffy!"

"Don't worry, I got this!" Luffy shouted when Buggy had grabbed me and began to pull me away from the stage, where Luffy was now held. This fucking clown, I swear if he harms that boy. I frowned when the clown began to now pulling me away.

"Quit giving me such a hard time!"

"Hey! What do you think you're doing pulling me into this room-" I was immediately quiet when Buggy grabbed my shoulders dipped me a bit and he unexpectedly began to kiss me.

I started back at him surprised as he lifted me back up on my feet. The first thing I did was slap his across the face and I hid my face.

"I-I'm so sorry! What..why did you-"

Buggy began to chuckle to himself as he held onto the spot I had hit him. His lipstick was smeared around his lips, and it was a bit hard ti tell if I let a mark on his face.

"You're still annoying and hard to please. You haven't changed quite much, (Y/N). Now..Where is my map?!"

I furrowed my eyebrows and leaned closer to look at him. All of the sudden Buggy took a step back and froze.

"Buggy…sorry I don't know what you mean-"

"Ugh I knew it! That damn Shanks probably told you to forget about me. He always does things like this."

I crossed my arms over my chest and tilted my head. "Shanks you know him?! Wait…" I thought hard and suddenly remembered a certain memory of myself, Shanks and Buggy.

"Now I remember! You took a few punches once when-"

"When a guy threatened to toss you out into the sea." Buggy ended my sentence and sighed.

I started up at the clown and wondered how I had forgotten about him. "We used to hang out didn't we? The three of us."

"Yeah until I was left alone! Shanks returned one day without you, saying how he wanted you to have s nice and decent life, not a pirates one which I thought was bullshit."

"Language." I warn and smirked afterwards.

Buggy sighed and now looked at me up and down. "You really grew up, (Y/N)."

"Flashily I suppose?" I said giving a twirl and giving a wink. "But seriously, did you kidnap us just so you can have the map?"

"That map belongs to me! Not to some prepubescent boy who doesn't know what it's like to be a pirate. Why are you with him anyways?" He asked leaning his back onto the wall and crossing his arms.

"I made a promise to my brother, Shanks. That I would look after him."

"So you're a babysitter then? That's great." Buggy rolled his eyes as he said that and started to take his gloves off. "Really suits your character." He laughed.

I squinted my eyes at him and looked at him from head to know. "Never thought you would go with the whole creepy clown look. You look like you would eat children." I joke.

"I eat others things… I let the whole raw meat thing to my buddy you met back on stage."

Great. So not only are they all supposed to be freaks, but he has a cannibal among them. What else has he been up to for these last couple of years?

"Gross. How many times have you taken advantage of some poor girl..or boy."

"Don't be ridiculous. I would never take advantage of someone if they were against it. And those who accept?"

"Well, let's say we have a pretty good time." He grinned pulling himself back up straight and seeing me fake throwing up.

"Ew.. I did not need that image in my head."

"Don't tell me you're still a virgin! Someone like you? Traveling the sea?!"

I looked around at where he had taken me. Making sure to look well even if it was kinda dark, only a few candles here and there with a vanity mirror and a few makeup scattered around, a small bed with the same lights messily clinging above the room.

"Where's Luffy?"

"Now you're avoiding the question!"

"Just tell me where he is with his ginger girl and broccoli guy!" I said trying me my best to not seem nervous, but really wanting to know if they were safe.

"I'll gladly tell you, once you tell where my map is!" He shouted and seemed to quickly compose himself and curse under his breath.

Buggy dramatically sighed and sat down on the edge of his bed. "Rubber boy is fine, he's entertaining my guests. Other two are with Cabaji."

My eyes looked back at the entrance and worried about the people being held hostage, I even spotted a poor dog with an older man, probably the owner saving the last thing he has, "What about the people?"

"What people?"

"The towns people, you idiot. You have to let them go." I said hoping he'd listen.

Buggy jumped up and began to laugh. "Sure! I'll do it right now, wanna help me?"

I frowned looking at him and was thinking if there's some way I can somehow release some of them. I really need Luffy's help…I decided to be straight and harsh with him.

"No matter how many people you hold captive. You'll never make people love you."

I felt a bit intimidated by his stare when Buggy took steps closer to me and cornered me against the vanity mirror. I looked to the side and felt his stare on me.

"Don't think you'll get a pass out of this, sweetheart. You're doing this so I can let your little friends go." Buggy lowly spoke as he took his ungloved hands and wrapped one around my neck.

"You seriously think that I would take advantage of you?" I question looking back up at him and saw a cold stare on his face.

"I think you're the one wanting to take advantage of me. You want to know where the map is. Well, I won't tell you, because I don't know. Thanks to your bombs I collapsed before I got the chance to see where or who got it."

"And why should I trust you? We don't know each other well." He sang being sarcastic as ever.

"You like playing games don't you? Maybe I can show you that I am telling the truth." I said and smiled.

Buggy frowned and gave me a harsh stare. I reached my hand down to his pants beginning to unbutton the first few buttons. His breathing hitched and I could feel him freeze when I touched him.

"It's been years since I saw you. We were kids..I'm sorry I forgot about you. Shanks only wanted what was best for me-"

Buggy instantly grabbed my wrists making me stop and look back at him when with his other hand he grabbed my face.

"Shanks being selfish as ever. Did he ever wonder what was best for me? He's taken everything from me, and now I have you back." He grinned and now grabbed the back of my head.

He placed his hand under my chin and I could see his blue pupils darken. I closed my eyes when Buggy leaned down to kiss me again. I felt him move my hair aside and leaving quick kisses down my neck and collarbone.

I gripped onto his shirt tight and began to kiss his lips again, ignoring how I would end up stained in his makeup. Quickly it began to deepen with me slipping out a moan when I felt his hands on my stomach and felt his pants getting tighter.

I moaned into the kiss when I felt him begin to get rid of my upper half clothes and began to palm my chest. Buggy's kisses began to lower until he reached down my breasts while his other hand played with my other one. While he was busy I started to reach my hand down to his pants beginning to unbutton the first few buttons. His breathing hitched and I could feel him freeze when I touched him.

"It's been years since I saw you. We were kids..I'm sorry I forgot about you. Shanks only wanted what was best for me-"

Buggy instantly grabbed my wrists making me stop and look back at him when with his other hand he grabbed my face.

"Shanks was being selfish as ever. Did he ever wonder what was best for me? He's taken everything from me, and now I have you back." He grinned and now grabbed the back of my head.

He smiled as he placed his hand under my chin and I could see his blue pupils darken. I shivered when I felt his hands beginning to move lower into my pants, until his fingers started to tease my nub.

My breathing hitched and a moaned almost escaped from my mouth, quickly I covered my mouth which made it seem like it was irritating Buggy. With my mouth still covered I saw him beginning to lower himself down on his knees. Quickly he got rid of my pants quick and slowly pulled down my underwear.

I've never been this exposed to someone. I began to cover myself but Buggy held my hands back and he began to leave a few bits down along my thighs until I saw him begin to part my legs. I leaned my back against the vanity mirror making all the things that were on it fall to the ground.

"You are so beautiful, (Y/N)." I heard Buggy say when he saw me naked before him.

Buggy began to lick his smudged lips and I gasped when he grabbed my thigh and placed it on his shoulder. I threw my head back when I saw stick his tongue out and gave a slow and long lick to my entrance, he followed it with another lick until Buggy was swirling his tongue. I loud moan escaped from mouth when I couldn't hold it it anymore.

His nose would occasionally brush against my clit, causing my body to twitch and strain against him. Buggy's other hand continued to thrust his fingers inside me while he pressed his thumb against my nub. "Buggy..” I moaned lowly. My hand continuing to grab his hair tugging at it slightly, causing him to growl right into my cunt again. "I'm gonna-" I squeezed my eyes shut when he thrusted his fingers faster for me to come.

I began to buck my hips forward and continued to tug onto his blue hair which has been tied up. I squeezed my eyes tights and cried out in pleasure when I felt something build inside of me, and when I finally came, I felt my legs about to give out.

Buggy quickly wiped his messy face and quickly stood up and held me close to him. Holding me so I wouldn't fall.

"Not so fast, sweetheart. It's my turn." I was still coming back to reality when Buggy pushed me down on my knees and I was met with his long and big- "There's no way its gonna fit." I thought looking at him.

"Why don't you use your pretty mouth, (Y/N)?" Buggy hummed slipping his thumb into my mouth before pulling it away. I looked down at him and my entire face got red seeing him completely undressed now. What would people say if they saw me about to fuck a clown.

Suddenly I began to feel nervous as I watched him begin to stroke himself a bit until he began to guide his member closer to my mouth, his other hand running through my hair lovingly.

I did what I suppose I am to do, I opened my mouth sticking my tongue out. Buggy wasted no time and he began to gently fuck my mouth. I hummed when I tasted him and heard him groan above me as I took in more of him and took him out with a pop.

I reached my hands out to pump the rest that couldn't fit in when I took him back again and began to gag when he began to fuck my mouth faster. Buggy gripped my head tight and suddenly pulled be back leaving a string of saliva connected to him. I shrieked when he suddenly began to carry me onto the bed.behind him.

Buggy quickly getting rid of his remaining clothes and grabbed my ankles to part my legs when he got on top of me, his hands gripped my hips as he guided his dick between my folds. I shivered when I felt him toying with me and kept on teasing me before he grabbed himself again and began to slide in.

Both of us moaned when he slid deep inside of me. Buggy cursed a few words and he stayed still for a minute, before he began to thrust into me at a rough pace. He slid deep in me with ease as my juices coated his cock. I moaned out and looked to the side feeling shy again, my breasts bouncing with every hard thrust he did as I felt his fingers rubbing my clit harshly.

Again I felt that familiar sensation returning I clenched around his cock as I interlaced my fingers with Buggy when I felt that snap again and my vision got blurry for a second. I began to feel overstimulation when his hands buried into my hair again until one of his hands reached down my neck. His pace became even rougher and faster, making me come closer to my climax again

"B-Buggy!"

I began to cry when he learned down to whisper dirty things into my ear, his playful self no longer present in the room. Tears streamed down my cheeks as he continued to fuck me. Buggy reached down to rub my clit harshly, making me come again and stain the sheets beneath us. And just when I thought we were done, Buggy flipped me so my stomach would be facing the bed and my back facing him.

Another moan escaped from me when I felt a harsh smack against my ass and felt his hands grab my ass and stretching me to take him in better. At this angle I could feel him closer.

I shut to eyes shut and continued to moan and cry every time he would thrust into me. I bit my lips tight as I felt his harsh thrust inside of me. I reached down myself and stated to circle my finger over my clit, the friction along with this man's rough thrusts making my mind go blank as I rested the side of my face onto the bed.

"Buggy..I-I'm.." I cried out when I felt Buggy holding onto my hips tighter pulling me back against him.

I heard Buggy softly laughing as he watched the faces and moans I made. One last moan and cry came out of me when I came hard. I still felt extremely sensitive when I felt Buggy holding onto me tight until we both gasped, I grasped onto the sheets when I felt forward a bit and felt him getting closer

Buggy gripped onto me tight and moaned close to my ear when he came inside of me. I fell forward and began to shake at what happened. Slowly, Buggy pulled himself out.

I got myself comfortable laying on my side and felt something still slowly dripping out of me. I was too tired to speak or to even look back at the blue haired clown.

Last thing I felt was Buggy rubbing my hips and planting a kiss a quick kiss on my head before I watched him leave the bed. Too tired to question anything, I decided to shut my eyes for a quick nap and felt something warm being placed on top of me.

"(Y/N)! You're safe..where the heck where you?!" Luffy questioned seeing my tired face. "Where you kept locked up? Buggy didn't hurt you did he?!" Luffy grabbed my shoulders and began to shake me.

"Luffy! Now's not the time!" I said not wanting anyone to touch me at how sore I felt. I looked at the young boy and smiled, "…I-I'm fine. None of you got hurt?" I asked genuinely concerned for them.

Though I have no idea what had happened since I had blacked out. I only remember falling asleep and well, waking up alone and pulling away from some curtains and making my way outside of the huge tent. That bastard clown. How dare he leave me.

Everyone of the towns people were set free and thanking Luffy for his help. Everyone genuinely seemed happy and very grateful. That way they know that not every pirates are bad.

"Nothing we couldn't handle." Zoro calmly replied walking past me.

"Kicking the clowns ass was fun. You should've seen it." Nami told me after.

They defeated him then? I sigh and smiled looking at Luffy and pulled his straw hat down and chuckled. There's no way he can't know what happened between that clown and I. That fucking clown will pay if I were to see him again.

I looked over at my friend and smiled at him. "You did great Luffy."

I followed Luffy to the ship and saw him waving at everyone where the ship began to sail. We all got busy and I sat down rethinking what the hell I did back there.

Luffy came over and smiled sitting next to me. "Are you sure you're fine? I swear I heard you crying."

My blood ran cold and I grew pale. I noticed Luffy's worried look and he quickly placed his hand over my forehead.

"Are you sick? Don't tell me you're getting sea sick all of the sudden."

"…Nope. I'm sorry I shouldn't worry you. Nothing happened." I lie straight at his innocent face.

The boy smiled and nodded his head. "If you say so! Let me know if you feel any better."

I nodded my head and saw Luffy run over to the front of the boat. I turned around and spotted Nami and Zoro shaking their heads at me.

#netflix #anime #buggy x reader #buggy smut #one piece x reader #opla spoilers #one piece live action #one piece spoilers #buggy the clown #one piece buggy #buggy one piece #one piece smut

[nexusnyx]

moment's silence

#NightSkyChallenge: Prompt 7 — The night I lost a bet. [“You know what this means, don’t you?”] [6.6k]

— Summary: Joel has no idea why Bill gifts him with the book. Had he rambled about you that much? It seemed impossible—to be fair, but surely there were other things besides your name on his tongue. Besides how much you love your books and care for them. Besides how much he's learned since he met you because of them.

Either way, the book means you lost the bet. Joel cares for very little since Outbreak day, but this—oh, this he took it to heart. You'd lost, and he intended on collecting his prize.

— A/n: Canon-divergence; Reader and Tess met Joel at the same time, and all three became a tight-knit unit. | 🏷️ Tags & warnings⚠️: explicit mature content, minors DNI; age gap, mentions of canon-typical violence, confessions, touch starved, dry humping, oral sex (m receiving), slow & deep sex, but also rough sex?, dirty talk, little spoon Joel.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤmasterlist | read on ao3

All he can think about when he sees the bookshelf is your words, even if they were spoken on a whim years ago.

"There's no fucking way you can find a classic in good conditions anymore—not even Joel 'I can find anything' Miller is immune to decay and years of nature taking over. They're all gone, Joel. I just have to accept it. I bet there's not a single one that hasn't been wrecked by either people's ignorance or fucking mold eating every single page."

He remembered those words as clear as the day's first rays of light.

Not because of them, precisely. Because of what came after. He had blurted, "Bet what?" out of sheer instinct, only for you to reply with:

"Anything."

Maybe you were being metaphorical at the time, but Joel took it seriously. He outreached his hand for you to shake. "I'll take that bet."

If he never found a book, nothing would change.

If he won, on the other hand. Well—there's something Joel's been wanting from you for a long, long time.

That's why when he enters Bill's house for the first time, Joel stops dead in his tracks on the corridor leading to the kitchen.

You'd been to the house before with him and Tess.

Just like him, you had stood outside the whole time while Tess and Frank went about their rambles and deals. You, Joel, and Bill were all cut out from the same cloth—death stares etched onto your faces as if you were marble, grumbled conversation that came up here and there between long sips of wine.

Neither you nor Joel had been inside yet.

It's the third time he visits, first one without you, and he sees it—

Bookshelf.

One of Bill's doors is open on the way to the kitchen revealing what used to be an office but now looks more like a symbiosis of an atelier and library. It's — nice, Joel guesses.

It's not his thing.

Books — those are your thing.

Joel has no idea what connects you to the pages, but he knows it runs deeper than just academic pleasure, or snobbiness (an assumption made by many who met you).

It's as if whatever elements existed within paper, inked with words that strung together beautiful stories — it moved you.

Joel was entranced by the way you were able to quote several passages.

Few things remained that were worthy of admiration, or interest. He easily placed your small and precious book collection high above on his list.

That, and your ability to bring those stories to life somehow.

"Are you a reader?" Bill's voice is expected — Joel heard his steps approaching and stopping behind him when he did.

He scanned all the shelves, so he looks back to answer Bill. "Not really. Tess never mentioned who's the little Librarian between us? Our reader's absent today."

"If my, uh... —

If mine... if they brought strangers into our situation... I wouldn't be happy either."

"Oh. Well. They seem to listen to you as well as mine listens to me."

"I hope she feels better soon." Bill says the words and they sound so real. Spoken freely, not through gritted teeth or accompanied by his usual stiff shoulders.

Joel's hands rested on his hips. "Yeah." He hated this part — with Bill and Frank it was harder to not talk about things. He was pretty sure Bill didn't even like him, just like Joel didn't like him that much, but they saw each other. Understood one another. "Yeah, me too."

"The medicine you gave — it helped." That came out through gritted teeth. Joel held back from smiling at the unspoken admission—you sold me real shit. It's saving my partner. Thanks. "Frank's talking about — lavender. Herb garden and all. God."

Joel snickers and they exchange a look. "Good luck with that."

"I'll definitely need it." Bill's hands pat his sides, and Joel recognizes his motion before bolting out of a conversation. "Feel free to look at them," he waves a hand in direction of the shelf before leaving Joel there alone.

He does look.

One by one, Joel checks the titles because if you were here, that's what you'd do, and "when in doubt, always do what you must".

He hated that your words stuck to his brain so easily.

They were sticky like honey, which also resembled your voice. Or maybe that was only the way he heard it — Joel enjoyed listening to you talk.

"When in doubt, always do what you must" came after he left behind some supplies in order to help during a run, and you'd gotten mad at him for the first time.

It was then that Joel noticed how fucking tough you were.

Complete the mission. Help when you can. Do what you must.

If he was here already, he might as well read all the titles. Who knew how long he'd last? If he'd be here again, or if you would?

When his eyes land on Frankenstein, Joel knows he hit the jackpot.

That's when the memory of your bet sparks behind his eyelids, and he's cursed with the way you smiled that day.

Anything.

There was something Joel wanted, badly.

He cut out his own permission to want anything that strayed from finding Tommy again, getting clues to somehow discover a way to find his brother, get him back, but you planted the seed in his subconscious by simply existing — he was powerless to stop it.

One second, you and Tess walked into his life.

The next, he had on one side a best friend who cursed as much as him and on the other a menace who popped into his subconscious state, giving him dreams for the first time in years.

You two brought back a sense of humanity into his day-to-day life.

In return, Joel tried his best to do good for both of you.

Keep you safe however he could. Slip extra ration cards into your stack so you could more.

Small things like that — things that he later realized were only the seeds for the want that blossomed.

Joel wanted you out of the smuggling business.

He wanted you to be safe.

It was fucking ridiculous.

Your hand never missed the trigger timing — if there was anyone around the neighborhoods he lived more skilled in knives than you, he'd eat his own hand, and you were clever.

Quick, sharp, rational.

Despite all of that, he hated the sight of your back whenever a deal had them going outside.

Every time he saw a pistol or any other weapon in your hands, he wanted to throw it away as hard as he could.

And here he was, facing Frankenstein.

Anything.

Fuck. Joel hated how he hesitated.

If it belonged to anyone else, his hands would've already made the book meet the secret parts of his backpack, but he couldn't do this to contacts so good like Frank and Bill.

He couldn't fuck up this one.

Shit.

(Maybe he did like the two men, after all. Just a little.)

Joel has no idea why Bill gifts him the book.

One minute they're sitting alone drinking scotch while Tess and Frank finish up the trade and the next, they're talking about old hobbies they regretted not paying more attention to. Conversing like two normal people. Like Tess and Frank do, only without all the niceness and excitement.

At one point, Bill asks, "Did you see anything you liked?"

It takes a second for Joel to realize he's talking about the room and the shelf. Joel shakes his head. "Wasn't a big fan of readin'." A lie, he thinks. "Even that's a stretch. I — probably should've done it more now that I think about it."

Bill's answer is a hum. "Yeah. Lots of things I wish I should've done. Properly. Piano's one of them."

Joel eyes the item in the room. He recalls you and Tess talking about how Frank was lucky to know an instrument. "Frank's good at it, though?"

"He was rustier when he arrived, but yeah — he's doing good now."

Joel admires that. Some things are probably talent, he figures. "Practice's everything. 's why I feel bad for people whose thing was, like, artsy. Y'know?" He lists you and Frank as examples. "They ain't got means to do what they really love now."

That's when Bill shares that Frank paints. Piano and drawn, painted art — that was nice. Frank probably missed a lot of things.

If what you said was true and artists withered without their art like some plants did without sun or water, then he must be sad nowadays.

The new information sparks up a memory. The abandoned art supply on Canbose with 5th Street — was it possible there were some there?

Joel kept the doubts to himself so as to not spark any hopes of things he'd fail to deliver, but the real surprise is that he and Bill have their first conversation there.

It's a nice one.

Joel loathes that his brain comes up with the knowing looks both you and Tess would give him and Bill if either of you saw the way the two men can converse so easily once the guns are gone.

Bill's — he's okay.

Rough around the edges, sure, but in polished, sturdy ways.

He's also a little box of Pandora.

The last thing Joel could expect was being called aside by Bill before he leaves with Tess, only to find him hiding behind the door waiting for him with a furtive air in his stance, as if there could be any secrets that they'd keep from theirs.

Bill extends the copy of Frankenstein without meeting Joel's eyes. "Here." He all but shoves it into Joel's hands, and then nods. "It's the one you kept touching."

There's no reason to play bargain or pretend this is a gift he's too humble to accept.

He does as he's told, thanks Bill with a long nod, and walks out.

It does beat at his mind on the walk back to the QZ, though—had he rambled about you that much?

It seemed impossible—to be fair, he always managed to keep the conversation away from himself, but surely there were other things besides your name on his tongue. Besides how much you love your books and care for them. Besides how much he's learned since he met you because of them.

Either way, the book means you lost the bet.

Joel cares for very little since Outbreak day, but this—oh, this he took it to heart. You'd lost, and he intended on collecting his prize.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤTWO DAYS LATER

The smell of your apartment envelops him every time.

Everything's open.

You keep plants hung in several places on your wall, and they're all so tall and green. Big, imponent, and your habit of walking through the place and touching one of them, sometimes going as far as plucking a leaf or petal out of them—the air suddenly turned into myrrh, lavender, eucalyptus.

Joel wished he smelled nothing other than here.

"Heard you were feelin' better," Joel says as soon as he has eyes on you.

There's more color on your cheeks. When you smile, Joel sees it reach your eyes even if it remains small in your lips. "Still feel like shit, though."

Tongue sharp as ever, then.

He chuckles and walks in as you move aside in invitation, gaze checking through the apartment as he takes off his shoes.

Joel always pays attention to everything that surrounds you.

While you ask about the trades you missed, he takes note of the spotless state of everything around him. Stainless windows, shiny floor, a sharp citrus scent lingering even around you.

Stress cleaning — check.

"Did you finish the food I gave ya?"

"Of course," you answer. Joel's happy to hear that — you ate very little on the first day you got sick, and he gave you some of his food to make sure you ate.

The two of you take a sit in the kitchen, and as you talk about work, he analyzes you better.

You had your most comfortable clothes on. They came from a box he found not long ago that was your size exactly; the shirt has wet stains on your chest, and your wet hair tells him you felt good enough today for the first time in a while.

Good enough to gather the patience to wash your hair in the sink.

"Don't mind Inoctus, you know he says that shit about the Fireflies all the time. I ain't gonna argue with him again," Joel waves a hand, and then gets to the part he wanted to talk about. "Never mind him, though — did Tess tell you about what Bill and Frank found for us? What Frank fixed?"

"No, not yet."

Excellent. "We've got some good news. Oh — and before I forget. D'you think that art supply on Canbose still has some supplies left?"

"The one that intersects with the 5th?"

"Yeah."

"I don't know. I don't see why it wouldn't have," you shrug your shoulders. "It's close enough to the QZ for it not be completely raided and I don't see who would prioritize stealing art supplies in the middle of everything." It made sense to Joel, and he felt a rare sense of giddiness tingling. "Why?"

He leans back on the chair. "Frank's a painter."

"No way."

Joel grins — you understood him. "Yes, way."

"Fucking hell. Is there anything he doesn't do?"

He laughs. "I know. I felt the same way."

"He plays the piano, he should be obliged by law to stick to that cool thing."

Joel likes it when you're feeling a little petty — the scrunch on your nose is adorable. He wants to pinch it between his fingers, even if he never did. "Anyway..." He shares the other updates about the trip to their house without you, then talks about the people who contacted him — the ones that gave him any trouble are your expertise, and Joel loves the set on your brows when you're listening.

He has no idea how someone who looks so precious can have such a wicked mind.

"She looks so — I don't know. Not this ingenious. Mean. How the fuck does someone who's always hummin' songs under her breath can intimate grown-ass man?"

"You're the only fucker who thinks she looks like an angel, Joel."

"Nah, we both know that's a lie."

"No, you're just delusional. If anyone thinks she looks angelic you better bet they're comparing her to Lucifer."

Was he? Delusional.

Tess always made him feel like he was faced with a Truth Mirror whenever he opened his big mouth around her.

After a couple of hours, you've already cooked some things — with the little help he could offer — for the both of you, taken notes of the people you need to talk to.

Joel realizes that time passes only when you.

Outside of your presence, it's all a snowball. Stale.

"Ah, shit." You get up in a rush.

"What?"

"Almost lost the time for my pills again," you mutter under your breath.

"You really need a watch." From where he sits at your kitchen table he can see your profile — the roll of your eyes. He huffs in disbelief, ignoring the feeling of his mouth tugging in the corners.

After you take your med, you sit on the couch and find his gaze from across the room. "Clean the table for me?"

Joel never says no to you.

Not for lack of want — fucking god must know how many times he's craved saying it, enunciating each letter with gusto. No.

It never came out.

He cleans the table thinking about how much he's delaying it.

The book's inside his duffel bag that remained next to your door all this time, but it weighs on his back somehow.

He did more than just clean the table as he tried pushing down the little mean jabs his mind took at itself.

You can't force her to stay outta business.

She ain't never listened to a soul in her life—who are you to tell her what to do?

Once every while, you would venture into Joel's personal space and place a finger where his brows pinched together. The first time it happened, the effect had been immediate—Joel was so shocked by the act that his whole face relaxed; not his body, though. His body froze, and he had stood there in a perfect portrayal of a statue.

You do that when he sits on the couch.

Your presence is so damn familiar to him that even lost in his own mind, he finds his way through the maze. He sits by your side, leans back, and drops his head on the couch.

When he feels your finger touching his frown, Joel opens his eyes.

"What's bothering you?" Your finger leaves, and he misses it.

Joel turns his head to the side. "Nothin'." He likes the way the color's back to your cheeks. A week on anti-inflammatory meds made you a little gray, and nothing about you was dull.

"You're a shit liar," you say.

He scoffs. "No, I'm not."

"You really are, though," you argue, fighting a smile. "And just so you know, your accent gets thicker the harder you try."

At that, he frowns. "No, it doesn't—" and fuck, he hears it. How the fuck did you notice that? His frown deepens, and you chuckle at him. "You pay attention to the strangest fuckin' things." It's said in the same gruff way he says most things, but there's enough admiration underneath it that you hear it for what it is.

"And thank god for that — it's what's kept me alive. Us alive," you snort, giving yourself the credit you're due for once.

In the end, he blurts it out. "I found it."

"Found what?" you ask, truly confused at the abrupt change.

"Something you told me I couldn't."

"That's... oddly vague," you reply. "I name a lot of things you can't find. You seem to think you have superpowers."

"No powers. Just talent." He shrugs, and gets up to retrieve the book. "What's the one thing you told me there was 'no fucking way' I could find?"

The second it takes for your brain to connect the dots is the time Joel needs to find the copy in his bag.

Joel sees your eyes dropping to it when he turns around. Widening. Freezing that way. Your lips parting only a couple of inches as your jaw slowly drops.

He sits with more satisfaction on your couch than he's sat anywhere in a long time.

The book falls with a soft thud between your bodies.

All the space he puts between you two is replaced by it —

Mary Shelley, Frankenstein.

"You know what this means, don't you?" he asks.

When you look up, Joel's caught off guard.

The moisture in your eyes shines under the light coming from your kitchen. Joel's throat becomes restricted by an invisible force, and his eyes sting in response to the sight.

"What the fuck, Joel?" your hands pick up the book with a reverence that makes his skin tingle. "Where... how —" both times you start, then stop. "My god." He just watches. You turn the book around, eyeing every millimeter. "This is real," you mutter. He's aware you're not even talking to him at this point. "Have you—" you look up at him, and he feels special enough, "have you opened it? Are the pages—it's whole?"

The way you breathe out the word.

A reverence. So sacred.

Joel might as well consider the bet paid if he wasn't so far gone on what he wants.

Kind of.

"It's whole," he confirms.

Joel almost opens up his mouth to make a teasing remark. Ask if you'd like to be left alone with it, maybe. Instead, he lets you examine it to your heart's will, which takes a while.

He's always comfortable in the silence with you.

That's when he started realizing the trouble he was in.

When he came over just to sit at the same table as you. Have dinner in silence while you cleaned your guns. Sometimes, he'd imagine a bottle of scotch would make the two of you end up in whispered conversations under the dim, yellowish lights of your place, but it never happened.

Joel's too much of a coward to let his guard down with you.

He wouldn't be able to do what he did with the others — a sweet release in the dark; an impersonal match of bodies, mingled in sweat and joined in more ways than it should seem possible, but never looking each other in the eye.

You looked him straight into his soul when you spoke to him. Every time.

"This means... you won the bet," you say.

Joel blinks out of his thoughts. "Sure does."

"So." You put the book down gently on your lap, then gaze at him, eyes piercing into his. "What d'you want?"

Tough question. Joel felt the tingle that never left his skin covering him from head to toe. His throat constricts around the words — his body starts to heat up. He shakes his head, and is overwhelmed by how the air seems to charge between you both. He licks his lips, and says.

Like a coward, his eyes fall on Frankenstein before he speaks.

"Can't have what I want." The naked truth. What's the point of lying to you, anyway? You're a shit liar. "So I'll ask for a close second," he adds quickly. Something magnetic pulls at him, and he looks up — a mistake. Fucking mistake—you never looked at him this way. Is that red on your cheeks? "I — uh; I want a voucher. A veto power."

You blink, utterly confused. "What?"

"A veto power over you." It's the closest he could think of on his way here. Some kind of power, since Joel has no right to demand anything from you. "On a decision. I—If you said you're comin' on a mission, for example. I could say 'no. Veto.' and that'd be it. No arguments. I want a veto card over you. Just one."

You stare at him for a few seconds, and Joel can almost see the engines in your brain turning.

Joel sometimes feels you're more than just yourself. The eyes on your head see far beyond what's in front of them, and he feels naked quite often when in front of you.

"Just tell me what you want," you say.

Can't have what I want, he told you. He shakes his head. "Doesn't matter."

"How would you know?"

"I just do," he argues.

"Maybe you're wrong."

"I'm not!" The storm swirls and lifts him from the couch. Joel turns his back to you, overcome by the reality of it all. "I know I'm not. There isn't—what I want is impossible. There's no such thing anymore. It ain't like the books, or finding fucking chocolate or—it ain't. I wanted you safe. How fuckin' stupid is that—" he chokes on air, gasping around the words. "There's no safe anymore." Softer, and lower, it comes out again. "There's no safe."

Most of the time, Joel's control is kept on a tight leash. His hands have a vicious grip around it because if he loosens it, it'll run off.

His hands are shaking now. He should turn back to face you, to see if he's just said too much or fucked it up somehow, but—you get up. He hears the squeaking of the couch and your steps approaching.

Then, as slowly as you approached him when you first met, he feels it:

Your hands slide around his middle. Your palms spread across his back and contour his waist, and you're hugging him—you hug him from behind, and Joel's chest expands with the air that your presence brings.

"Joel." You hug tighter. He can feel your upper body pressed against his back, and his hands come up to rest on top of yours, shaking as they are. He wants to speak up, but you beat him to it. "I thought I was going crazy, Joel."

Crazy? He is going crazy. You're wrapped around him and the world is yet to implode; Joel feels a knot in his throat that wasn't there before. "Why?"

It hits him — the answer.

Before you're able to say it hits him in the chest, because your hands grip him by the ribcages but not with force; all your fingers need to do is apply gentle pressure on him and Joel feels that you want him to move, so he lets you.

You spin him inside your hold, and Joel goes willingly.

When he's turned and facing you, the answer is there, all over your face.

Your hands stay on his back, but your eyes are searching on every inch of his face for any sign, for anything to deter you from what you want to do.

Joel sees it. He is delusional.

"I want the impossible too," you say. It comes out in a soft whisper, and Joel mentally curses all the moments of silence between you two where he felt the air as palpable as you inside his arms right now. When you looked at him, almost through him, and he turned a blind eye to it in fear that it was exactly what he wanted and craved for. "Is it — too much?"

He's incapable of answering.

His hands come up to your face, and he fits his palm on the set of your jar, where his thumb can touch your cheeks.

You melt to the touch, eyes closing along the way.

All those times you two shared a laugh and a look, and the silence hung in the air as your eyes were unable to leave each other — this. It could've been this.

"Tell me to stop and I will," is all he can say before he dives.

Joel meets you underwater.

The same way you're drowning in his hands with all of your weight supported on his body, Joel submerges as his mouth meets your kiss.

It's a waiting game — you were waiting for the moment he'd realize, he thinks.

Joel may be out of touch with reality itself, but some things can pierce through different dimensions.

Raw things never fail to elicit the strongest form of feeling and your desire pulls him under—real, demanding.

Although he remembers being a vocal partner in bed, he has no words or taunting remarks for you—he'd rather kiss.

Your mouth parts so eagerly for him that Joel wants to shut up.

He has you shutting up, moaning in his mouth as his tongue slides on yours. His fingers grip tighter on your hair. Your arms cling to him, then both of them let go to wrap around his shoulders instead, and Joel feels the despair as you climb up higher, as you press your body harder against him.

He understands it. Empathizes, even — he's feeling it on him the same way.

Your desperate, wet kisses rekindle connections long lost in his brain.

Joel remembers the desperate and insane horniness of youth when hormones mix with inexperience and everything feels new and like a raw, open nerve.

This tastes like those moments.

It'd been so long since Joel was touched and your hands start a mapping of his body that start to get him drunk.

It hits him that it's you. He's kissing you, and you're kissing back with so much force that he has no air, there's no air in his lungs—

He pulls back, gasping, and feels your nails digging into his scalp. The moan scratches the back of his throat and Joel only notices his eyes are still closed when your forehead touches his and your breath starts mingling with his.

Opening his eyes is a blessing. And a curse, most likely.

Seeing your mouth swollen and puffy makes him greedy.

Then — "Are you stopping?" you ask. Hoarse voice. Breathless. "I didn't tell you to stop," you add, whining.

Joel picks you up in one motion, and the laughter that bubbles out of your chest reminds him that you're light — you're the ghost that pops up in his dreams shining with the pink hue of sundown and you're the hope of his mornings, the scent of coffee and pages and herbs that make him feel like this earth could still have a sense of home even if he denies that fact, gritting his teeth at the fact the world still goes on.

He pins you against the nearest wall. One without a shelf, or furniture.

With you pressed against the wall, he has better support. He can trace your thighs with his palm, can get his hands underneath your cotton shorts, your blouse.

"Are you trying to kill me?" you ask him. Your head hits the wall behind you, and Joel looks up to see you watching him as he maps you. You visibly swallow when your gazes meet, and Joel wants to say so fucking much, but nothing comes out at first.

All he wants is to make the pink on your lips become permanent.

He wants to rip every item of clothing on you with his hands, and wants to —

"Joel," you lean forward, capturing his lips in a kiss and stealing all the images he had of you pinned on your own wooden floor, cheeks pressed against it as he took you from behind.

When your tongue meets his, Joel feels something snapping.

He growls into the kiss, both of his hands groping your asscheeks as he desperately grinds his hips against your body.

This kiss is even better than the first, even if it kills all of his oxygen faster.

Joel never kissed like this. Not this messy, this wet and sloppy mess of need, and dry humping, and swallowing your moans only to have them be echoed back to you when you grind your hips down in the perfect way—

When he pulls back for air this time, Joel grips your head by the hair, making a fistful at your nape.

"This is not just now, is it?" he asks. His own voice sounds like sandpaper and pure lust, and he's not even beginning.

"No, no," you shake your head. "I need you, Joel."

"Fuckin' hell," he has more to say, but now he needs you naked. "'m gonna take off your clothes. Then I'm gonna eat your pussy 'cause I've thought about it too many fuckin' times." Your jaw falls open at him, and Joel smiles despite himself. "Yeah. You gonna let me, baby? Hm?"

Your only answer is to nod desperately, grinding against him as your eyes close.

Joel's in heaven. "Did I win what I want?" he asks.

"What?"

"My veto," he pulls you away from the wall and starts carrying you to your bedroom. "I still want it. Can't have the impossible but I can have a veto."

You laugh as he kicks your door open. "You want a fucking veto? Joel, all you have to do is hold me by the chin and say 'no' or 'yes' and I'd do it. It's that simple. Always have been. " You grab his face between your hands and pierce him with those All Seeing Eyes. "I'll give you your veto, if that's what you want." You kiss his lips, sighing softly. "'m sorry I can't promise you I'll be safe, but I can promise I'll try."

Joel knows he's about to do something that can't be taken back when he lies you down.

He nods just so you know he understood, but the knot's formed again and if he speaks, Joel will cry — the words wouldn't come out anyway, even if he wants to say them.

Joel's unsure if they haven't been burned out of his tongue.

He takes off your clothes one by one. Ironic for someone who wanted them ripped to pieces not a minute ago, but to have you laid in front of him soothes the desperation somehow.

His plans get interrupted, though, because once you're naked and all of his brain is mushed into nothing but skin skin you you touch touch touch, you stop him from kneeling down at the edge of the bed with a touch and one request, "You too?" your gaze is so open and vulnerable that his hands go to his shirt. "No — lemme. Please."

Joel does, and you do the same to him, taking his clothes off one by one.

When you drop to his knees in front of him, Joel is powerless.

He's too stunned to say or do anything but look.

Even his hands that itch to touch only manage to do so when they're flying for some support so his knees don't buckle and he falls — you grab his cock by the base with one hand, look up until his eyes are locked on yours, and then licks a wet stripe from his balls to the tip.

Then you do it again, and again, until Joel's coated in saliva, and you can suck around the tip, swallowing him down in one go.

He grips your hair for life support, cursing under his breath.

Joel's vocal about how much you're fucking killing him.

You go at it slowly, which is even more torture, but he gets it. He remembers you talking about not being with a person for the longest time. How it made no difference for you to have the physical or not because the attraction wasn't there unless there something underneath it — for someone who's out of practice, you must have the knowledge.

Your tongue runs on the sensitive skin between the dick and his balls, your mouth suctions when it's taking him down and when you start bobbing your head, using your hand to cover the parts your mouth can't reach, Joel has to physically pull you back.

"Stop, stop —" his hand on your hair pulls you back, and Joel curses again when you whine at having to let go. "'m gonna fuck you, baby, it's okay, 's okay," he gets you up by the neck, and is kissing you right after.

That's how he falls in bed with you — with his cock leaking pre-cum, his back already coated in sweat and your mouth tasting like him.

Joel eases the fall with his hand, not wanting to crush you with his weight. He wants to eat you out — Joel wants to bury his face in you, but when he makes a move to go down, your legs clamp around his waist and your head starts shaking.

You pull back from his kiss, "No — later, you can do that later, just — please," you guide your hand between your bodies to hold him and guide his cock to your entrance. "Waited too long, Joel."

I need you, Joel.

"Wait, wait — " it'll be over too fast if he sees you all the time. Joel has an idea. "A position that's better for you first. I wanna see you too, but I want you to feel good. Turn around for me."

"You want me on all fours?"

"No," he shakes his head. "Just turn around."

You obey him, and Joel grabs one of your pillows to push under your waist. You rest your cheek on the one under your head, and he positions himself first before crowding your space with his head on the crook of your neck.

He dips his fingers in first, spreading your wetness all over you before lining up.

It's sinful how good the position is.

He fills you up, bottoming all the way out. Joel's thick, but not too long, and he knows this angle is as good for you as it is for him. "Feels good?" he asks in your ear.

Your only response is his name.

"Is that a yes?" he pulls all the way out, and slams it back in, wanting to feel the drag. Wanting to feel your walls clamping around him. How you open up to accommodate all of him. "'Cause you feel like — fuckin' heaven, baby — louder, say it louder —"

"Feels amazing, Joel," you cry.

He knows it does. Joel hasn't felt anything remotely close to pleasure in a long time, so this might be too much, he might be in danger of growing an addiction, but he's past caring.

He drags it out.

Joel wanted to fuck you senseless a while ago, but now all he wants is to stay buried in the tight and warm haven of your cunt until you're both too spent to move a muscle. "'m gonna stay — all fuckin' night — inside you, baby — hm, whaddaya think?"

"Yes, please—"

"God, I love — that's all you can say to me."

"Don't stop," you cry out louder.

"I won't." He couldn't.

He doesn't want to. He doesn't.

Joel thrusts into you slow, measured and deep, until the heat in his groin is climbing like your nails digging at his sides. He loses count of how many times he sucks on your shoulders, how many bite marks you must have on your neck, of how many single-worded compliments he spills in your ears as he fucks the words out of you.

When you beg to cum, Joel flips you over and hoists your leg higher so he can go in deeper, and he fucks you the way you've been begging him to — crying around his fingers for harder, and faster, Joel, please, please, I'm not gonna break —

He gives it to you like both of you have been dying to receive, and when your legs start shaking around him and his name drops from your lips in a scream, Joel pulls out, coating your stomach in the hot strings of his cum.

He doesn't collapse on top of you, which is a miracle.

He does lay strategically next to you in order to avoid his own mess until he's able to feel his legs again.

Your fingers thread his hair during that time.

The spasms of your legs make him smile, and the little hums that leave you without you even realizing make Joel float on his bliss.

When he comes back to himself, he gets up to get a warm towel. He cleans you both, just enough so sleeping is okay. He pulls up the duvet and puts you underneath it before climbing under as well.

When he lays, Joel expects you to turn around;

Instead, you wrap around him in octopus style, and whisper, "Turn around."

He obeys, and is rewarded by you spooning him.

Joel thinks he might be dreaming.

"Are you gonna be here tomorrow?" you ask after a while.

Your bodies are as tangled as they can be. Your hands caress the hairs on his chest and your breath is on his neck, and still, you are stared he'll leave.

"D'you want scrambled eggs or you prefer the toast?" he replies.

There's a kiss on his neck. Another on his shoulder. He grabs one of your hand to pull it to his lips, and kisses it.

"Scrambled."

"'kay. Where d'you keep your sugar? I can never find it."

"I'll show you tomorrow," you kiss his shoulder, and squeeze his body. "Joel?"

"Yeah, baby?"

He can feel your smile because your lips are on his skin. He's gonna use that more, he thinks. "I might wake up rubbing myself all over you," you whisper.

He laughs. "Fine by me."

🏷️ @sakuralikestars — @mostardentily — @thegreat-annamaria — @leiticia — @polyglot-noodle — @casssiopeia — @earthtocharlene — @levylovegood — @lavenderhhze — @gracie7209 — @waywardwolfbonklight — @shadytalething — @sanzusmile —@yesimwriting — @celestialstar111 💖

⚠️ if anyone being tagged would like to not be, just let me know in my inbox (which you can also use to talk to me about all the appeals of Joel Miller with his hair slicked back, you know... or what you thought of this one.. just saying... &lt;3

#usernexusnyx #joel miller fic #joel miller imagine #joel miller one shot #joel miller fanfic #joel miller x you #joel miller drabble #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x y/n #joel miller fluff #joel miller angst #joel miller smut #joel miller tlou #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal imagine #nightskychallenge #joel miller fanfiction

[bunniesanddeer]

Hi! I hope you’re having a wonderful day or night.

I saw your asks are open and I had an idea. What if it’s a protective Alastor x Reader who is the daughter of a protective Lucifer? Maybe she kept in contact with her dad so they are closer and she is older than Charlie. When Lucifer comes to visit the hotel him and Alastor cause some drama

Thanks!

W.P💚

I hope this is what you were looking for? I am very new to doing things like this!

Daddy's Girl

Pairing: Alastor X Lucifer's Daughter! Reader

Tags: Sisterly love, some sexual connotations, spoilers, some angst maybe? idk, swearing, Mimzy.

SPOILERS FOR "DAD BEAT DAD"

Word Count: 1,775

The hotel was eerily quiet when you awoke, so you made your way downstairs to see if anyone was awake. All you could hear as you made your way down the stairs was your quiet footfalls and weird murmuring. As you turned towards the sitting area, you realized the muttering was coming from your younger sister, Charlie.

Charlie was pacing back and forth in front of a pin board covered in colorful papers, and strings. She tugged at her hair, her muttering growing more frantic. As you took in the scene, you realized there were a few people standing and watching her. Niffty was bouncing on the couch, her face full of a strange glee. Husk and Sir Pentious were watching with mixes of bafflement and curiosity.

“Hey, Char Char? Are you ok?” You asked, walking around the couch to get a better view. You saw Angel and Vaggie approach from your peripherals as Charlie whipped around frantically.

“Nope! No. Not really! Haha. Hah…” Her false smile falls as she rips a page off the board. “I have been up all night trying to figure out why the hotel isn’t working! We’ve done every single trust exercise and arts and crafts project I could find! We’ve talked about our feelings and… nothing is working!”

You frown. You knew that things taking so long would eventually get to her, but it was sad to see just how severely. She needed more help. 

You walk up to your sister, and set your hands on her shoulders. “I think…”

Her expression collapses. “Please don’t say it.”

“We should call dad. And ask for his help.”

She winces. She clearly doesn’t want your dad’s help. You can’t exactly blame her, either. The two of you were raised a little separate, and it had affected her relationship with Lucifer pretty badly. Although, you were older, and it had afforded you time with Lucifer before Lilith had started to separate herself from him. Charlie had only had a handful of years before their relationship went south. It showed in her anxiety with him, and Lucifer’s inability to talk to Charlie openly. It made you sad, but you weren’t sure how to fix that rift.

“He’s the reason the extermination happens to begin with! He just let it happen! He doesn’t even like sinners! Why would he help me?” Charlie hugs herself, looking off to the side. “He’s always preferred you anyway.”

You hear some audible winces from the audience by the couch, but you ignore them. You pull her into a tight hug, her taller frame putting you at her collarbones. “You know I would change that if I could, honey.” You squeeze her tightly and say, “We can at least see if he can get you a meeting. Anything to give you the advantage, Char Char.”

She sighs, and hugs you back. “Yeah. I guess we can at least try.”

You pull back. “I think you should call him. I bet he’s dying to hear from you, even though he sucks at showing it.”

Charlie rubs her arm and nods. “Alright. I’ll do it!”

As she struggles to start the phone call, Husk makes comments about her having ‘Daddy Issues’, and you blanch. How rude! (Even if it was true). The others make comments about meeting Lucifer, but you and Vaggie just keep your eyes on Charlie. She seems so nervous, and it makes your stomach twist in knots. 

She finally calls. It rings three times before a faint, “Heyyyy bitch!” rings out on the other end of the line. You facepalm. Good going Dad.

When all is said and done, Lucifer announces he is visiting within the hour, after much cajoling and guilt-tripping on Charlie’s part. Although, from what you could hear, he seemed excited.

Charlie is excited, and so is everyone else in the hotel. You cheer for her, and then the realization hits you. 

Alastor. Fuck.

As the final touches are finished, you sidle up to Alastor with a small grin.

“Please, please don’t start shit. Charlie needs this to work. And I need this to work for Charlie,” you murmur to him. 

He barely glances at you. “Worry not, sweetheart! You know I would never do anything to risk the reputation of the hotel! Charlie will get the help she needs!” His arm wraps around your shoulders, and he squeezes you into his side. For just a moment, his head ducks down, and he whispers into your ear. “Just need to make it clear whose little girl you are now.” Then he perks right back up like nothing happened.

Your face burns hot. How dare he! But you don’t get to do anything in retaliation, because Charlie is opening the door.

“Chaaaaarlie!” Lucifer exclaims, immediately pulling her into a tight embrace. Your sister’s face is full of shock, and you just want to laugh. Ha! You were right! He continues talking to her in the slightest baby voice, and you can’t help but let some giggles escape you. Your dad could be just so silly! “Oh, it’s so good to see you!”

He lets go of Charlie as she welcomes him to the hotel. He spots Keekee first, and pets her. Then greets Razzle and Dazzle. You watch from the sidelines with a small smile. It was nice seeing your dad outside the home. He had been holing himself up for so long… You look up at Alastor, who hasn’t moved an inch since your dad came in.

You elbow him gently. “You okay?”

Alasotr’s expression is tight. His eyes flicker to you for a moment, before landing back on your father. He merely hums in response, making you frown. How odd… You knew the two wouldn’t get along, but for Alastor to dislike him already?

 Then your dad spots the bar. “Oh! What in the unholy Hell is that?” 

Alastor immediately shadow-walks to the other side of the room, and you know it’s time to intervene.

“Oh! Just some of the renovations we’ve made.” Alastor gestures with his mic, before continuing. “Adds a bit of color, don’t you think?” 

You wince, and make your way to Alastor’s side. 

“Hey, Dad,” you say, trying to prevent your dad making any further comments on the decor. That's a good way to piss off Alastor.

“Sweetheart!” Your dad runs up to you, and tries picking you up. You laugh at the tights squeeze. “How’s my girl?” His hands squish your cheeks, making it hard to respond.

You giggle through the ministrations, and finally push his hands back so you can respond. “I’m doing great, Dad. Figured I should introduce you to Alastor here.” You gesture to Alastor, who looks the closest to not smiling that you have ever seen. It makes your stomach feel like lead, as you keep talking. “He’s our facilities' manager, and my…”

Your voice trails off, and you look at Alastor, as if hoping he has the word you are looking for.

“I’m her lover!” Alastor exclaims, quite loudly. His static drops for a moment and then bursts back up in volume, making you wince. Great. He just announced that to everyone in the room. The ‘everyone’ being everyone who didn’t know. You can hear Charlie ‘whoop!’ in the background, and several variations of ‘what the fuck’. “She’s quite the darling. I just couldn’t resist this sweet face!” Alastor grabs at your cheeks, similar to how your dad did, and squishes them. “See?”

You risk a glance at your dad. He looks ready to kill. Fuck. This is absolutely not how you wanted to tell your dad. He nearly killed the last partner you had for ghosting you. You can see your dad’s horns growing, and you push Alastor back.

“Haha! Yeah. Uh. Sorry. I would have told you before now, but we’re kind of new! We were trying to keep it on the down-low for now but…” You glare at Alastor, but he just has this shit-eating grin on his face, and you know he doesn’t care. 

“Right.” Your dad continues glaring at Alastor. You wince, and decide to go over by the snack table. Angel is just giving you this look, and you know he will be asking about Alastor’s dick, which you have not seen, later. Husk seems disappointed in you, and you absolutely know why. You just give him an apologetic shrug, and watch as Alastor and your dad seem to start a pissing match. 

It ends with Alastor in his face saying, “Fuck you,” and your knees nearly give out. Holy shit. 

Charlie finally intervenes, and Lucifer, after some more glaring at Alastor, get her to introduce him to the rest of the residents.

Alastor lays a hand on your shoulder as your dad greets both the guests and the staff. You can feel his thumb rubbing back and forth, and it sends shivers down your spine. You look up at Alastor, but his gaze is still locked on your dad. Annoyed, you roll your eyes with a huff, and look back to the meet-and-greet. Your dad is looking back at you, his frown deep, and a barely audible growl making its way to your ears. Your dad is fucking growling at Alastor. What the Hell?

A rumble builds up in Alastor’s chest, and you can feel it against your back. This one sets heat back up to your face. Gosh, this man needed to get his shit together. No need to start stuff with your dad! Alastor’s hand tightens on your shoulder, before he lets go and stalks back towards Charlie, who is trying to convince your dad to help her. 

And then they’re singing. Because of course. Alastor joins in, saying some things that seem to really piss off your dad, but you can't hear much over the blood rushing in your ears. Sometimes these two could be so embarrassing. When your dad pulls out the golden fiddle, you nearly die laughing. (He still wasn’t over losing that one time!) Everything comes to a head, with the two men yelling insults in each other's faces, when suddenly-

“It’s ME!” A woman barges in through the lobby doors, yelling and calling herself Mimzy. She’s blonde, and dressed like a flapper. Alastor seems to recognize her, so you don’t worry. 

Later that night, when your dad has finally agreed to help your sister get that meeting, you all settle onto the couches, making a game plan. Alastor sits beside you, one foot resting on the other knee. You lean over and ask softly, “What did you say during that song, anyway?”

Alastor’s grin sharpens, and he presses his lips near your ear, again. “Charlie calls me dad, and your eldest calls me Daddy.”

If you nearly choke on your own spit, you refuse to admit it. 

#alastor x reader #alastor fanfiction #fanfic #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel #bun's short fics

[lou-struck]

Made With Love Part 2

OM Brothers & Datables x reader pt.2 

Featuring Special parts with Lucifer, Mammon, and Leviathan.

MASTERLIST COMING SOON!!!

Part 1 Here

~ As the Room erupts in chaotic, love-drunk chatter. Luke tries desperately to figure out what is going on, meanwhile you finally show up to the party late and confused.

WC: 6.7k

Warnings: Love Potion based personality changes, obsessive behaviors, feelings of self doubt, possible accidental drowning attempt, mention of suggestive behavior, lots of teasing, kissing, touching, etc. 

a/n: Wow! This is turning into a much longer project than I thought It was going to be. I love how this is developing and I hope you guys are interested too. If you would like to be tagged in the next chapters comment below!

"Look at this one Satan." Lucifer giggles happily, kicking his feet on the sofa. The screen of his DDD is illuminated with a picture of you as the Avatar of Pride leans up against his younger brother and brings the image closer to his blush-covered cheeks. 

Satan's eyes are as large as saucers as he takes in the picture. "This is the bestest picture ever." he gasps in entranced delight, not a single thought in his head other than you. 

"That's what ya said about the last twenty pictures." Mammon laughs from the other side of him. "But I get it. Mc is soooo amazing. I could look at their cute face all day long."

Luke watches as the three brothers swipe to the next picture in Lucifer's album and sigh lovingly. 

Asmodeus shyly creeps up behind his brothers, his eyes brimming with curiosity. Strange spell or not, cute photos of you have always been his kryptonite. Mammon notices his presence and gives his brother a smile. "Cmmere Asmo, don't be shy; there's more than enough pictures of Mc to go around."

How generous…

But when the Avatar of Lust gets closer to take an eager glimpse at the picture, he gasps and takes a flustered step back. His face turns beet red, and smoke looks like it's about to come out from his ears when he sees the (fairly tame) photo of swimsuit-clad you.

"T-that is so inappropriate." he cries, covering his eyes and running away with an off-balanced stumble as if he was the one who took you shopping for the suit, sat back and watched you try on outfit after outfit, and insisted on rubbing sunscreen all over you once you made it to the beach. 

Asmo runs away from his other brothers. But they don't seem to notice. They just continue gushing about how cute you are.

 Aside from those troublemakers, Luke scans the room to see how everyone else is acting under the effects of the spell or whatever it was that found its way into the sugar cookies.

From a lonely window-side chair, Beel looks out the window like he is a little puppy. His face, a deep pout as he waits for your arrival. He looks too distressed to even look at the overflowing table of food.

Belphie is energetically pacing about the room, too excited to see you to even think about being tired. 

Speaking of tired, Barbatos sluggishly leans against the door mumbling to himself about how opening the handle is just too much work for him right now. 

Levi and Simeon begin arguing loudly in the center of the room. They are standing chest to chest, staring each other down with dark, possessive expressions.

"Don't get me wrong, Simeon, I may have admired your work in the past, but now the only fandom I want to be a part of is Mc's." Levi's hand comes to rest on the Angel's shoulder in a condescending manner. 

There is a darkness to Simeon that is quite unnerving as he removes Levi's hand. His face is a cruel mask of disgust. "Why would anyone want to spend time with someone like you?" Instead of flinching or looking away in shame, Levi stares the Angel down as if daring him to say more, which Simeon obliges. "Especially Mc. How about you be a good little demon and leave us be?"

"Don't make me laugh you freaking Normie. Why would Mc want to spend time with you?"

Luke pales as Diavolo steps up to join the argument. 

"No one will be spending time with Mc today," he says in an authoritarian tone. "The poor thing will be exhausted when they arrive, so I personally will be tending to them."

Both the Angel and the Avatar of Envy grow quiet, glancing between one another and the Prince before boisterously laughing in his face. 

"What's so funny?" He asks, narrowing his eyes. The Hearts in his pupils looking remarkably out of place on his regal features. "Do you not think me capable of caring for Mc?"

"Ahh yes, the Prince born with a silver spoon in his mouth is the most qualified to care for a human." The sarcasm in Simeon's voice chills the room as everyone's conversations come to a halt.  

The Demon's nostrils flare, and he crosses his arms over his chest. "Believe me, Simeon, I am more than capable of caring for them."

"Shall we prove it?" Simeon coo's, his voice laced with condescension. "How about each of us go our separate ways to spend time with Mc. Once they have had their share of each of us, we can ask them who they enjoyed their time with the most today."

"It's obviously going to be me." Levi declares as the others gather around. 

"Why can't we jus’ share em?" Mammon wonders aloud. "Mc is so amazing they can spend time with all of us."

Luke spots Asmo taking a worried step backward. "A-alone? W-with Mc?" he stutters. "I- don't know if I am ready for that. I gotta go and get ready." 

"Hey, he's getting a head start on us. I won't lose." Belpheghor calls as he rushes from the room after his brother.

It's a madhouse as the rest of them push past each other to claim their spot for a date with you. But as Solomon tries to creep off, he is stopped by the little Angel who grabs his cape. "Not you, Solomon. If you know what is going on with everyone, you have to tell me," he says exasperatedly. 

"Oh, Mc is going to hate meeee." Solomon cries as the others disappear behind the doors. 

Luke shudders as he uncomfortably feels how clammy the human's skin is. Judging by the deep blush on his cheeks and how clumsily he stumbles behind the little Angel, he is clearly under the same spell as the rest of them. 

"Solomon, what is going on?" He questions the teary-eyed Sorcerer in the most authoritative tone he can manage. He even tries to invoke the same confident, commanding tone that Lucifer uses to control the room by crossing his arms and trying his best to look displeased.

But in all reality, he just looks confused. And that pout only makes him look constipated as Solomon keeps rambling on and on about how you will never love him because he ruined yet another Valentine's Day for you. He is so fixated on you, it's like Luke is not even there.

Luke takes a deep breath in and clenches his little fists into tight balls of tension. He knows he needs to relax so he can fix the problem in front of him and save the day.

Save your day…

"Solomon!" he yells, tugging the Sorcerer's dark blue cape for attention. "Why is everyone acting so strange? They are more obsessed with Mc than usual and are acting differently."

 Solomon's heart-shaped pupils dilate as if hearing someone say your name is a drug to him. But he is coherent enough to answer Luke's question. "D-did you use one of the bowls in my lab?" he asks softly; he nervously fiddles with his fingers, never actually looking Luke in the eye. 

"Yeah, I saw my light blue one on the counter, and it looked clean, so I used it."

Solomon's eyes go wide in alarm as they flicker to the doors of the banquet hall. "The Potion," he breathes, stepping back against the wall and sliding it down in embarrassment. Luke flinches briefly, that impact sounded painful but Solomon doesn't seem to notice it at all. He tucks his knees to his chest in an almost childlike fashion. 

If he hadn't seen him eat the cookies, Luke would not believe that the trembling, flustered man in front of him is the infamous Human Sorcerer Solomon the Wise. "I-I did it again…" his voice comes out muffled from his arms. "I ruined Valentine's Day."

Despair courses through Luke's veins like glacier water. "What do you mean? What Potion?"

Solomon gulps and looks up from his spot on the ground. 

"A few weeks ago, I was out at a used book store with Satan and Mc…." The mere mention of your name is enough for the Sorcerer's blush to intensify, and he begins to lose focus. 

"Hey, Keep going…" Luke encourages urgently. "What did you find at the bookstore?"

Solomon blinks down at Luke as if he had just noticed his presence. "Oh yes, the bookstore. I just went the other day with Satan and…"

"WHAT DID YOU BUY?" he interrupts before the Sorcerer can say your name and get lost in the effects of whatever was in that frosting.

"It was an old recipe guide for making love potions." He answers. "One of the recipes in particular stuck out to me. When consumed, it amplifies feelings of affection for the person they love most along with a few interesting side effects."

A deep shudder runs down Luke's spine. He accidentally gave all his friends a love potion. He looks at Solomon's ruddy cheeks and hazy eyes. Are these some of the side effects. If he is going to learn anything else about the potion, he better ask his last question before the human runs off to prepare his own alone time with you.

"What kind of side effects?

~

A dry, cold wind slices across your face as you run towards the castle gates. Luke's DDD lies securely in your hand as you try to think of the best way to word your apology for being late to the party. 

You are already wondering how Lucifer will scold you for your tardiness. Just imagining that handsome smirk on his prideful lips makes you feel a mixture of both anticipation and annoyance swishing around your gut.

But all in all, you are ecstatic. You get to spend the day with all of your favorite people, eating sweets, playing games, and enjoying what Valentine's Day has to offer.

There's a spring in your step as you make it to the first of the stone stairs of the palace. But before you can move any further, you watch as Luke runs from the Castle towards you.

"Wait, don't go in there." He says frantically, waving his arms 

"Why?" you ask. "don't tell me I missed the party already."

The color drains from the Angel's face, somethings wrong. "it's not… I'm so sorry Mc. I ruined everything."

Your reassuring smile is quick as you place a hand on the Angel's shoulder to calm him down. "Whatever it is you think you did, I'm sure it's not that bad. Luke, do you want to tell me what happened?"

He looks at you and takes a deep breath. "When I was making the cookies, I used a bowl from Solomon's lab that contained some kind of love potion. Right when I set the tray down at the party, it was like everyone was drawn to them. They ate them, and now they just won't stop talking about you, and they're acting strange."

You blink in surprise; out of all the things to come out of Luke's mouth, you were not expecting this. But honestly, after living in the Devildom for a little bit you have developed a wonderful attitude for dealing with these unexpected situations.

"Strange how?" You ask curiosity and worry evident in your voice.

"They are acting completely different. It's like their love for you has changed their personalities. Lucifer is all giggly, Barbatos is super tired, and Simeon… Well, let's just say he's not being that nice."

"Oh dear," you breathe. Luke was just starting to get used to things down here. This love potion fiasco must really be traumatizing the poor guy. "Is there a cure?"

"I-I think so." Luke furrows his brow. "I was trying to get some details from Solomon before he started acting love-drunk like the rest of them. And he said he got it from a book. Before I could ask him anything else, he ran off. Apparently, they all wanted to claim a spot in the Castle to spend some time with you."

You nod thoughtfully, the wheels in your head turning as you formulate a plan. With everyone scattered about the Castle, you will definitely have to check on each guy individually, but other than that, at least you know that they aren't going to be actively arguing with each other, "If we can find that book, I bet there is a page of antidotes we can make. You head back to Purgatory Hall and I'll go inside and make sure everyone stays where they are. If we play along with what they want right now, it will be easier."

He looks concerned, "are you sure you should go in there by yourself?" For all his worrying, you know he has a point; if everyone is acting unpredictable, you will have to be on your guard. They may still love you, but even on their best days, these guys can be a bit possessive. 

Reassuringly, you give the Angel your best smile and send him on his way. "There is nothing to worry about. You go find the book, and I'll make sure that everyone here is okay." 

He nods bravely, "I'll go right away. But if you need any help, call me; I want to make sure they don't try anything crazy."

He rushes off, and you take a deep breath. The moon casts a long shadow on your figure as you climb the steps. You hate to admit it, but you are actually more amused with this situation than worried. You know in your heart that this situation will be resolved.

Curiously, you wonder how the potion seems to be affecting each one of your loved ones.

Maybe all these themed chaotic events that have taken place in the Devildom have messed with your head a little bit, but nevertheless, you find yourself smiling to yourself.

This could be fun. 

Lucifer ~

The Castle has never felt more empty. The dark halls are eerily quiet, and the grand, empty chambers echo the sounds of your light footsteps in every direction. You recall Diavolo saying that since the Valentine's Day celebration was planned to be an intimate affair for you, he had sent the entirety of his staff home to enjoy the holiday with their loved ones. 

You thought that was really admirable, but now you wish that at least one of the little D's was around to help you find your way. There are easily a thousand rooms in this place, and you have 11 cursed individuals to find.

You pass the empty banquet room where the party should've been held; something about the full table of food unsettles you. If Beel isn't crouched over the charcuterie table, stuffing cubes of otherworldly cheese into his mouth like a chipmunk, this love potion thing may be pretty darn serious.

Throughout the quietness, a light sound reaches your ears. It may be horror movie logic, but you follow the sound down the hallway until you reach a stone room with a stained glass ceiling. In the center of the room lies a beautiful indoor fountain. The crystal clear water flows enchantingly into the carefully carved basin. The steady ambiance is soothing, it invites you closer so you may admire the mosaic of jewels embedded into the column.

Suddenly, two strong arms wrap around your waist. The warm embrace makes you jump and let out a yelp of fear as you try to wiggle yourself out. 

Just as you wind up your elbow to drive it into your attacker's ribcage, you hear a happy chuckle against your ear that makes you freeze your attack. "You're here cutie, I knew you would find me."

"Lucifer?" you breathe. "Is that you?"

"Yea~, I just missed you so much." gone is his usual serious tone. Now, his voice sounds giddy with excitement, and you feel at ease. Your shoulders slump as the Avatar of Pride nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck. 

Although you are safe, his hold on you is like a vice. There is hardly any space between the two of you as you turn around to get a good look at him. When you two are chest to chest, he lifts his head. Beautiful strands of his dark hair fall in front of his eyes in a messy but not entirely unbecoming way. 

His cheeks are flushed a baby pink color as you take in his simple, lovestruck smile. It looks so unserious you want to burst out laughing. But the thing that really sticks out to you is the strange heart shape his pupils have taken. The black hearts against his deep crimson eyes is captivating to behold.

"You're so cute," he whispers loudly, even though it's just the two of you in the room together. You don't miss the way he seems to sway unsteadily in front of you in an almost tipsy manner. 

So this is what Luke meant by 'Love Drunk.'

"So are you." you smile; usually, this kind of compliment is not one that he would typically accept, but thanks to this sweet and very touchy disposition brought on by the love potion, he just giggles and holds you tighter. "How about we try and find some of the others so we can have our party?"

"No," he states abruptly; the look of hurt on his face tugs at your heartstrings, and you almost want to apologize to him. He looks down at you with glassy eyes that are brimming with tears. This unusual sight reminds you of your current mission. 

When he notices the worry on your face, the tears begin to cascade down his cheeks and become one with the fountain. "I'm sorry for yelling at you," he murmurs with a small voice. "I just love you so much. Why do you want to find the others? Stay with me. Please?"

Lucifer's lack of pride is astonishing. He clings to your arm as if you are about to turn into smoke and vanish into thin air. 

What if we held hands while we looked?" you offer the Demon. His eyes light up at the prospect, but you know you'll need to offer a bit more than that if you are going to be able to leave this room to look for the others. 

"We can hold hands in here," he whines toying with your fingers as if they are the most fascinating things in the world. He smoothes the pad of his thumb over the glossy coat of nail polish Asmodeus painted last night and looks at you with puppy dog eyes.

"What about a kiss then?" you ask

That love-drunk smile returns to light up his features once more at the prospect once more. "A kiss?"

"Yes," you say. "If we can leave this room to find the others, then you can have all the kisses you want."

The offer is tempting and you see the contemplation in his eyes. If he says yes, he'll get what his heart has been calling for, but then he won't get as much attention from you. He can hardly remember what the others are doing right now. All he can think of is you, you, you.

He nods excitedly. "Please, please kiss me Mc. I'll do whatever you want."

You smile victoriously as he cups your face. There is so much love in his gaze as he meets your eyes. "Beautiful," he whispers before leaning in close to you. 

Your eyes shut as his warm breath fans your face. Potion or no potion, he kisses you like he always does, heartfelt and tenderly. His lips are soft against yours as he steals away that pesky breath of yours.

You find your head in the clouds, not wanting to pull away from this for even a moment. 

But surprisingly, he pulls away first. Your eyes shoot open as you see him run a hand through his hair. His eyes blink tiredly as they look at you with round pupils.

"Mc? What just happened?" he asks, "I remember being at the party and then…" He pales and looks at you with concern.

"Apparently, there was a potion accidentally mixed into the sugar cookies," you say. "Are you feeling alright?"

He nods. "I'm fine now; I believe that when we kissed, the true affection we felt for each other was enough to break this enchantment." his cheeks flush, and he averts his eyes from yours, "It felt like I was dreaming; I apologize for my actions today, I hope I didn't make you feel uncomfortable at all."

You gently take his hand and offer up a smile, "So, you dream of me often?" your teasing brings a little smirk to his lips, and he knows there is nothing to forgive,

"Quite often, my dear." he gently kisses the crown of your head. "Although I wasn't acting like myself, I truly meant it when I said I never want to leave your side. I've prepared a special outing for us next week as a gift for you. I know we all agreed to spend today with you together, but I am still a Demon, and I must have my own time with you without distractions." 

"That sounds wonderful." you smile, hugging him tightly. You notice the sudden fatigue that clings to him, possibly a side effect of the potion. "How about you head back to the banquet hall and rest. Now that we know how to undo the spell, I can find the others, and we can get this party back on track.

He looks a bit disappointed but he gives your hand a gentle squeeze. "I suppose that's for the best, My Dear." He leans in close and murmurs into the shell of your ear, "But if you ever tell anyone of the details regarding my behavior under the effect of this potion, I promise you it will not go unpunished."

Mammon~

With one down and ten to go, you search the Castle once more. Your footsteps sound much quieter as you walk along the luxurious carpet that lines the long hallway. The knowledge of how to undo the effects of the potion is soothing, but this unintentional little game of hide and seek is certainly not helping speed this whole thing along.

Another worrying possibility is that simply kissing everyone may not work. Is it possible that the spell on Lucifer was broken due to something else entirely?

Your worry clouds your judgment as you wander past the heavy double doors of the palace treasury. For the first time in all of your visits here, you notice a lack of guards outside the doors. The treasury is completely unprotected. If it were any other day, you just know you would find Mammon poking around, trying to break into the vault using some cheap-looking skeleton key he got on Akuzon.

If Lucifer's clingy behavior was any indication of what was yet to come, the crown jewels of the Devildom would be the last thing on the Avatar of Greed's mind at the moment.

You pass the vault and begin to meander your way past the wall of portraits. You remember Barbatos explaining to you a while back that the individuals in these portraits are crucial to the Devildom's history and are up here as a way of honoring them. 

You pass Ancient Kings and Queens of old, their names carefully embedded on golden placards, written in languages that no longer are spoken. Painted eyes seemingly track your every move. They only stop when you stop in your tracks. Near the end of the lowly lit hallway, you think you see someone sitting on the carpet. As you creep closer, you see that it is Mammon. He is staring up at the wall with complete fascination.

"Mammon?" you call gently. His head snaps in your direction as soon as the soft sound of your voice reaches his ears. His eyes widen when he sees you, and those big, heart-shaped pupils stare back at you.

"Mc, it's really you." he smiles, getting slowly to his feet. His lack of coordination is evident as he walks over to you with small, shy steps. "I knew ya wouldn't forget about me."

"I could never forget about you, Mammon." Your smile lights up the dark hallway and beckons him closer. You brace yourself for an inhumanly strong bear hug, but it never comes. Mammon stops just a foot away from you and stares at you with eyes full of pure devotion. You feel a bit shy under his spotlight as he takes in every inch of your being.

"You're perfect, aren't ya?" he murmurs in a dreamy tone, his knees buckling in front of you. "Ya look like you were carved outta marble or somethin."

Mammon has never been one to be so generous with unprompted compliments before now; the potion must have something to do with all of these flowery words. You try to fight the flustered heat blossoming beneath your skin with a teasing remark. "That means a lot coming from The Great Mammon."

The use of his self-given nickname usually would make the Demon puff out his chest with pride, but now, he just seems to shrink meekly. "I'm not that Great," he says softly. "But you, you are Greater than Great. They should call ya the…uhhh…" 

He tries to think, but clearly, the love potion is scrambling his thoughts. "Whatever it is, yer it." He glances to the side and looks off at one of the pictures on the wall again.

"I was ready to stare at this all day long," he says, his blue eyes shining in admiration. "But now, with ya in front of me, I think the real thing is way better."

"Wait, what are you talking about?" you question, finally noticing what it was that has been entertaining the Demon for however long. Instead of seeing an oil painting of some long-dead member of the Devildom nobility, it's a simple Polaroid photo of you tacked to the wall. 

Peering closer, you recall spotting this photo tucked securely in Mammon's wallet. At the time, you had teased him about it and watched in amusement as he grew flustered, stammering through some half-hearted excuse as to why it was with him. It was flattering to know that he likes to keep a piece of you close to him, but now, you just feel that it looks so out of place next to these large paintings. A sharp feeling of shame and unworthiness plucks at your heartstrings, and you look away from it and back at the swaying Demon.

"What is that little thing doing up there?" you joke, looking between the elegant frames and your pixelated, kinda blurry face. "One of these things is not like the other."

Mammon looks at you with a confused expression on his face. "I put yer picture up here so then everyone will know just how special ya are. Yer Special Mc, and everyone in the Devildom deserves to see yer cute face."

It's a flattering notion, but the Love Potion has clearly made him overestimate the perception of your importance in the Devildom. 

"That is very sweet of you to say Mammon," you smile at him as you reach out to take the picture. "But I think this hallway was just meant for art."

Your fingers just graze the corner of the photograph before Mammon steps between you and the wall. He grabs your wrist with a firm intensity and you feel an unnatural warmth to his skin. Is this another side effect of the potion?

"No, it should stay." His tone is firm as his eyes scan your face. "Yer the best, better than all these clowns up on the wall." His eyes flicker to a portrait of a cat-like demon, and he scoffs. "Who even is this guy?"

You try to remember why his face looks so familiar. "Oh, I know this one." You explain proudly, recalling your Devildom History Class. "He was a botanist who made a fertilizer that promotes plant growth under the moonlight. He got the Devildom through a huge food shortage a couple thousand years ago and saved a lot of Demons."

Mammon gives you a huge smile. "See! That's why yer so amazing. So pretty, smart, cool, and ya always know how to make my heart do that thing where it keeps me up at night just thinking about that cute smile of yers." he grins, looking at you with his previous, unserious, lovey-dovey look in his eyes. You know he believes every word.

"Fine then," you say, your heart feeling full from his shower of compliments. "How about I get to take the photo with me if I give you a kiss?"

He nods instantly. "Kissin' ya would be the best." he sighs dreamily. "Ya just got these really soft lips that always taste like honey or somethin else that's really sweet."

There is a flash of that signature green in his eyes as he gently cups your face and leans in for the kiss slowly, as if he is trying to savor this brief moment. 

When your lips touch, the unnatural warmth to his skin seems to fade away. As Mammon seems to wake from the spell, he takes a reluctant step away from you in confusion.

"W-wha. Mc?" he blinks, furrowing his brows, trying to piece together the events from the last hour. 

"How are you feeling?"

"Those damn cookies," he growls, clenching his fists into balls at his side. "Just wait. When I get my hands on that Chihuahua, I swear I'll.." he stops mid-sentence, and his eyes go wide in shock. "I didn't say anythin weird or mushy, did I?"

"Ummm, like what?" you ask, feigning innocence. "You didn't say anything weird."

He laughs, throwing his head back. "Course I didn't. I'm the Great Mammon after all."

"You sure are," you say back, wrapping your arms around your First Demon. 

"What's that for?" He asks, hugging you back. 

"No reason." you hum, "Lucifer is in the Banquet Hall; you should head back and find him."

"Don't tell me. Ya gotta go and find the others?" he sighs, looking disappointed. 

"Seems like it." you shrug.

"Fine, but ya gotta promise me somethin'. Be careful; some of those guys are actin' all weird." he warms, reluctantly stepping out of your embrace. It's then he notices the photo of you on the wall. He looks confused and subconsciously feels around for his wallet. 

"How'd that get up there?" he murmurs, carefully removing it from the wall. But instead of tucking it back into the leather sleeve of his designer wallet, he decides to put it up higher on the wall, out of your reach.

"Aren't you gonna put it back in your wallet?" you ask

He shakes his head, "Nah, let's keep it up. Ya deserve a spot up there among the greats."

Leviathan~

After skillfully pointing Mammon back towards the banquet hall on the pathway that avoids the palace treasury, you find yourself alone once again…

Your shadow follows behind you like a cowardly companion, doing little to help with the feeling of isolation and paranoia that prickles down your spine. 

Taking another step forward, you step on something small and let out a small gasp as you flinch backward. The thing you stepped on has a human shape and your heart sinks to your stomach.

Was one of the strange side effects of the potion shrinking?

Did you just kill someone?

You take your DDD out of your pocket and shine your flashlight on the floor, praying to whoever is listening that you didn't crush any of your loved ones with the sole of the designer shoes Asmodeus bought for you.

Immediately, you feel relief as the light hits the object you stepped on. It's not a tiny demon, Angel, or Sorcerer. Instead, the minuscule, solid-plastic, smiling face of Rui Chan stares back at you. 

Without a doubt, this little phone charm belongs to LEviathan. It's twin swings from your device from a daintily braided string, but hers looks frayed, like it was ripped off and she was discarded.  

"You poor thing," you say softly, crouching down to pick up the fallen character. "I promise I'll get you all fixed up in no time."

You slip the figurine into your pocket and continue onwards. Levi must be around here somewhere, but where?

Beneath the cracks of one of the doors, you notice light spilling out. Slowly, you open the door to reveal one of the Castle's many indoor pools. The water ripples, and a head of purple hair breaks through the surface.

Levi has discarded his shirt and gracefully swims around in just his dark pants. Swimming in denim may not be super comfortable, but since he is an aquatic demon, he must be used to this kind of thing. 

When he sees you, he stops what he's doing and just stares at you with a blank expression. Unlike the others you have seen so far, there is no sign of a blush on his cheeks, but he seems different somehow.

Is it his posture?

"What are you doing in there?" you ask, calling out to the Demon. He seems to shake himself out of his daze and hunches over in embarrassment. 

"T-the others wanted to have dates with you." he stammers. "But no one is as strong in the water as me, so I claimed the pool. None of those Normies could take you away from me now.

So far, Levi isn't acting as strange as the others, but you are still cautious. "That is very smart of you, Levi," you say. "But I am not dressed for swimming, so maybe we could do something else together."

His eyes rake up and down your body, eying your attire. "Oh, you're right." he mutters, "I bet you think I'm just a stupid otaku who needs to touch grass."

"You know I don't think that," you say, briefly wondering why he dosent seem to be embarrassed as he usually is. He swims over to the edge of the pool and stares up at you expectantly. "I-i can't get out of the water on my own. Will you help me up?"

He holds out his hand for you to take, and you reach for it like it's second nature. It's only when he has a firm grip on your hand that his features shift, and he smirks devilishly, dropping his shy and unconfident act. "Oh, Mc, I just knew you would come to me."

He pulls you effortlessly over the pool's edge, and you squeal, hitting the water with a loud splash. Water fills your mouth as you thrash about, trying to breach the surface.

Levi's arms wrap around your waist as he pulls you to the surface. As you cough up water and try to catch your breath, he looks at you with those heart-shaped pupils. 

"There you go Mc," he purrs seductively. His fingers swipe away damp strands of hair out of your face. "Now I can see you clearly."

"Levi, what did you do that for?" you cough blindly, reaching for the pool's edge. But his grip around your waist is firm. You aren't going anywhere.

There is a weight in your back pocket that makes your heart sink. "Oh shoot." you take your DDD out of your pocket and raise it above the water. The screen flickers once, then twice, before going completely black. 

It's ruined…

So much for telling Luke you found the cure…

Levi's eyes flare with jealousy as he gives your side a gentle squeeze. "Hey now, put that thing away. You're with me, so you won't be needing any of those distractions. 

This side of Levi is bold, smooth, and a bit aggressive.

You would be lying if you said you didn't think this boldness was kinda hot. 

Gingerly, he takes your waterlogged device out of your hand and starts to place it on the edge of the pool behind him, but when he sees your little Rui chan charm swaying back and forth, he stops, narrowing his eyes at the collectible. "Why do you still have that junky thing?

Your gut starts to feel uneasy. Levi really did rip off that limited edition charm you guys got at the meet and greet.

Just as he starts trying to unravel the little braided cord, you come up with a plan. 

Turning on your natural charm, you let out a little giggle and loop your arms around his chest, successfully grabbing his full attention. "Noooo, come on. It's just too cute. I like keeping it with me since you got it for me."

He chuckles and nips at your ear. "This piece of plastic is nowhere near as cute as you Mc, but if that's really what you want, then I guess it can stay." With the DDD and the phone charm safely out of the water, you feel relieved. 

"Thank you, Levi." you coo, tracking his predatory gaze as it drops to your lips. He wastes no time pressing him to yours with confidence. 

The butterflies in your stomach take flight as your eyes flutter shut. Seconds later, you notice that his initial ferocity fades, and he lets himself go.

His eyes are wide open now, and he looks absolutely terrified. 

Mc, why are we swimming?" he gasps, looking down at your kiss-swollen lips. "What did I do?"

"It's okay Levi," you say comfortingly. And you mean it, this was because of the potion. "You were under a spell and didn't know what you were doing."

"But I still did it." he cries. "Brb, I gotta go become one with the pool now." 

He starts to lower himself into the water once more, but you pull him up so he cannot sulk at the bottom of the pool for the rest of his day. "Hey, come on. Let's get out of here and dry off the best we can.

He looks down at your soaked clothing and hair. His face flushes redder and redder until he looks like he is about to faint. Wasting no time, you start to lead him out of the water for his own safety. 

"I am so so so sorry." he apologizes again. "I know you will never want to see me ever again. All I am is a gross Otaku shut-in who tried to act like some kind of Dating Sim protagonist and failed miserably."

You take a fluffy white towel from one of the tables and gently pat his purple hair dry. "I still want to see you silly."

He shyly meets your gaze and gives you a wobbly smile. But then he sees his DDD resting on the table next to him. "Wait. Where is Rui-Chan?"

He scans the room frantically, and his breathing quickens. 

Before he has a full-blown panic attack, you take the charm out of your pocket and drop it into his open palm. "Shhhh, it's okay. The string broke, but it's an easy fix. How about you go back to the banquet hall and try to put it back together."

He looks at you like you have just hung all the stars in the sky. "You're an angel, Mc. That's my Henry, I always knew I could count on you."

He starts to head back toward the Banquet Hall, the sound of wet denim swishing back and forth, following him as he goes.

Alone again, you look down at your pool-soaked clothing and roll your eyes at the inconvenience. "Okay. Three down, eight to go."

Tagging: @nutmeg030 @im-in-love-with-fairytales @snowthatareblack @stressed-cryptid @miracl3d @that-1-simp @the-panda-queen @melpomenelurks @romaissa @randomdutchgirl @skei2p @downinbedrock @yuuvis32 @exrellian @cuddlybelphie @yeet-skeet-nifty-neat @thorn--bush @commets-space @enchantedforest-network

#obey me nightbringer #obey me shall we date #obey me x reader #obey me #obey me leviathan #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #lucifer x reader #levi x reader #mammon x reader

[runnning-outof-time]

Change His Ways | Tommy Shelby x Reader

Request: no

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Reader

Summary: In which Tommy falls for a woman out of his reach and does whatever it takes to get closer to her.

Warnings: Tommy’s certainly not canon here, language, smoking, religious themes (Tommy goes to church)

Word Count: 4025

A/N: I dusted this WIP off because I was itching to keep writing after I finished my celebration blurbs. The idea has Tommy ooc, but it was one that I just had to write down while reading a book - I’ll share a bit more about it down below for those who are interested (it’s based on a true story). Enjoy! :)

I’D LOVE TO KNOW WHAT YOU THINK - YOUR COMMENTS & REBLOGS HELP ME WRITE!

Comment/Message me if you’d like to be tagged in stories similar to this one!

Tommy's world stopped the second he saw her. She was in Polly's main room, gathering her cleaning supplies as he stepped into the home. He watched from the doorway as she tried, but failed, to take them all into her arms, the bucket and broom falling to the ground. "I'm so sorry, Ms. Gray," she quickly apologized to the woman standing next to the fireplace for the commotion, crouching down to - try and - gather it once more. Polly didn't say anything, only watching on as the younger woman struggled.

"Let me help you, miss," Tommy spoke up, balancing the cigarette he was smoking between his lips before he stepped over to her, leaning down to grab the stick of the broom before she could.

"Oh, thank you, mister," she smiled over at him, her (y/e/c) eyes instantly mesmerizing Tommy. He almost forgot what he was doing.

"Where do these need to go?" he asked after clearing his throat and pulling himself from his thoughts.

"Just outside. My father's picking me up," she responded, smiling over at him gratefully. He felt like she had knocked the wind out of him.

"Alright then," he nodded, standing in time with her and taking a bucket from her full hands so that she'd have less to carry. He then let her lead him out to where an older looking farm-typed truck was waiting. The man sitting in the driver's seat just glared at Tommy, who ignored his presence altogether. "Should be it," he remarked as he sat the broom and bucket into the back of the truck.

"Thank you, really," the woman smiled at him.

"You're welcome," Tommy nodded politely before she got in the truck and he walked back up the path to his aunt's house. Polly was standing in the entryway with her arms crossed when Tommy re-entered the house. "What, Pol?" he questioned, brushing past her into the main room.

"She's a good woman, Thomas," she heeded a warning. A warning that Tommy disregarded completely.

Tommy showed up at Polly's every day for a week until he figured out what times the unnamed, beautiful woman was present at the house. And each time she was, he would help her with the things that she needed to carry out to her father's truck.

He didn't quite get to his destination today because the very person he was looking forward to seeing was walking along the sidewalk about three blocks from his aunt's house. He slowed down his car with his brow furrowed, and bent his head down to look at her. "All ok?" he asked after he watched her take a few more struggled steps. "Your father coming to pick you up?"

"Not today," she shook her head, the tone of her voice showing how much she was struggling to keep everything in her arms. "He's been held up at the farm."

Tommy was out of his car the second he heard her answer. He walked around the side of it with a quickened pace before he took the bigger cleaning supplies from her arms. "I can take you home," he offered, already opening the back door of his car before she gave him an answer to set the supplies he'd taken inside.

"Oh I can't bother you like that," she tried to decline his offer politely, but Tommy didn't want to hear it.

"I insist," he stressed, his eyebrows raised slightly to show his seriousness. He held his eyes on her and saw her weary expression form into a smile. She nodded her head in agreement before he opened the passenger's side door for her to get into the car. Once she was in, he shut the door and walked back around to the driver's side.

"Do you have a name, sir?" she asked him almost immediately after he'd sat in the front seat, "because I feel like I should know the name of the man that has so kindly offered me a ride."

"It's Thomas Shelby," he said, clearing his throat before adding: "you can call me Tommy though."

The woman smiled at him. “It’s nice to meet you, officially, Tommy. Thank you for driving me home," she spoke politely. “My name is (Y/N) (Y/L/N)," she added, her cheeks heating up slightly when she realized that she hadn't formally introduced herself to him.

"It's nice to officially meet you as well, (Y/N)," he couldn't help but smile as he tried her name out for himself, "and there's no need to thank me...the pleasure's all mine here," he concluded his sentence by turning his car back on and pulling away from the sidewalk so that he could take her home.

There was an older man leaning up against the side of a rusted farm truck as Tommy pulled into the driveway that (Y/N) said was hers. He looked rather intimidating standing there, and if Tommy wasn't in the line of work that he was, he definitely would have been put off by him.

"Hi, daddy," (Y/N) smiled as she got out of the car so that she could grab her supplies from the back. She was too slow, however, because Tommy already had it in his hands.

"Where do you want this?" he asked her.

"Just by the shed over there," she answered as she motioned to said shed, "I can place them where they need to go later." Tommy nodded and then walked the short distance so that he could rest the supplies against the wall of the shed. "Thank you, Tommy," she sent him a bright smile once he'd finished.

"You're welcome," he nodded, deciding that being paid in her smiles would be better than any lump sum of money he could ever receive.

"You Thomas Shelby?" (Y/N)'s father then came into the situation, his voice making Tommy's expression go serious as he turned to face the older man.

"I am," he nodded, extending his hand.

"What are your intentions with my daughter?" her father got right to the point, glancing at the hand but not shaking it.

Tommy found himself feeling like a young boy again, and it made him wonder just how interested he was in (Y/N) for him to be feeling like this. "I brought her home. She was struggling with carrying the supplies," he explained himself.

The older man looked Tommy up and down before nodding slightly. "Ok," was all he said before he turned and started to walk over to one of the barns on the property.

"Thank you, Tommy," (Y/N) sent him another smile, pulling him out of the confused stupor that was brought on by the previous conversation. "I hope you make it home safely."

"You're welcome, (Y/N)," he responded, loving how her name sounded coming from his mouth. He then returned her wave before he walked to his car and got into it, backing down the driveway and away from the beautiful woman who was standing and watching him leave.

"I think you're a bloody idiot for coming up with that idea," Polly spoke her mind after Tommy had finished explaining to her where he'd gone a few days ago.

"That's why I'm doing it properly," Tommy tried to work a different angle.

"Properly or not, the (Y/L/N)'s are a God-fearing family, and I can't remember the last time you stepped into a church with the intent of speaking to the Maker," she remarked, quirking an eyebrow in his direction. Tommy sighed in response, shaking his head as he brought the cigarette back up to his mouth. He and Polly then stared at each other for a few moments before the woman sighed and hung her head, "but you'll still give it a try anyway," she stated in defeat, knowing just by his glance alone that her nephew's mind was made up.

Tommy cleared his throat as he stood from the chair in Polly's living room. He grabbed his coat and pulled it over his shoulders so that he was ready to leave the house. Polly tried to call after him, but he wasn't listening to her words as he opened the door and exited the dwelling. After getting in the car and starting its engine, he began driving to (Y/N)'s house with the full intention of winning her father over.

"You cannot court my daughter," (Y/N)'s father spoke firmly from where he sat across from Tommy in the front room.

"She's a very lovely woman, and I will be a gentleman to her," he tried to sway the older man, laying on the Shelby charm in full force, "all I am asking is for a date with her." If only his family could hear him now.

"If you want to see my daughter, you'll see her at church," her father decided, nodding his head once to show his decision was final.

"Mr. (Y/L/N)..."

"Save it, Shelby," the older man cut Tommy off, standing to leave the conversation. Tommy watched him walk, knowing there was nothing more that could be done. He also stood, showing himself out. He looked to the farmhouse after opening the door to his car and saw (Y/N) standing in one of the second floor windows. A sigh escaped his lips. He knew what to do.

Tommy met the (Y/L/N)'s at their church that Sunday. No one bothered to question how he knew where they worshiped, and he was thankful that he didn't need to explain.

They all sat in the same pew, Tommy to the right of (Y/N), of course, while her father sat on her left. He didn't listen much to the sermons, or participate in singing along with the choir.

He did, however, try to get even closer to (Y/N). After a few glances down, he slowly inched his hand closer to her lap. At first he attempted to take hold of her hand. She moved it away the second she felt his fingers brush hers. But she didn't look his way though, still focused on what the preacher was saying. So he let his hand stay there. Instead of holding hers, he flipped his palm down and draped his fingers over the curve of her thigh.

His hand had just started to warm from her body heat when he felt a sharp, but silent, smack land on the back of it. It made him remove his hand and quickly look her way. She was still looking straight ahead. Tommy kept his eyes on her, his brows furrowed. He was sure that he hadn't imagined that; she'd just smacked him.

The feeling of his eyes on her made (Y/N) glance to her right. She knew he wouldn't look away until he addressed her. But her father would instantly know that her attention had been taken off of the message being told. Ever-so-slowly, she leaned closer to Tommy, getting close enough so that he could hear her whisper. "There should be no touching in the Lord's house. It's considered blasphemy."

Tommy couldn't respond because she sat straight again the second she finished speaking. He took one last look at her before looking straight again, his hand resting on his thigh once again.

Tommy continued going to church with (Y/N) and her family every Sunday, and eventually they got into a routine of him walking her back home.

Every Sunday, they'd stop at the beginning of her dirt driveway, and she'd thank him with a kiss on his cheek. They'd then say their goodbyes and she'd begin walking to her house. Tommy would stay and watch, waiting until she was on her porch before he left.

This Sunday was different. (Y/N) was unusually quiet on the way home. The walk that was normally filled with her sweet laughter and entertaining stories was now overruled by silence.

They stopped at the end of her driveway, and (Y/N) turned so that she could face him. Tommy's eyes were immediately on her, and he noticed that she was looking at the ground. "I won't be in church next Sunday," she finally spoke, playing with her fingers in hopes it'd give her something to focus on. She glanced up at him through her eyelashes then, seeing that he was looking out at the fields for a moment. Thinking now'd be the best time to say goodbye, she lifted her head and leaned in to press her lips to his cheek.

Tommy turned to talk to her at that same moment, and he was met with the most rewarding accident he'd ever been given in his life when his lips met hers. The kiss was soft, quick, and innocent. Too quick for his liking.

(Y/N) pulled back with a gasp the second she realized what was happening. She looked at him then, her eyes now opened wide; looking as if she'd just seen a ghost, or a horrible crime be committed. I've fucked this up, Tommy thought to himself, the breath caught in his throat. The worst part about it was that he didn't quite know what to say that could make the situation better.

So he just stared at (Y/N), watching as her eyes searched his for what seemed like eternity. Then, after what felt like forever, (Y/N) leaned in and pressed her lips to his again. She kissed him more soundly this time, and he took hold of her waist to make sure that she wouldn't leave him too soon. When she eventually moved to pull back, he let her, keeping his eyes closed when she stayed close and rested her forehead against his.

"Why?" he asked once their breathing had returned to normal.

"Huh?" she was clearly confused by his sudden question, and she finally pulled back to look at him once more, her eyebrows furrowed.

"Why won't you be there, love?" he asked with a soft laugh, squeezing her waist softly as he remembered that he was still holding onto her.

Realization struck her and her confusion melted into a sheepish smile, remembering what they were talking about before the kiss happened. "My family and I are traveling to see my grandparents. We'll go to the service at their church since we'll be staying through the weekend," she explained the reason behind her initial statement.

"Should I find you there?" he asked her then, wondering if he could still make things work. He'd been seeing her every Sunday for a month and a half now, and he'd be lying if he said that he didn't look forward to it every week.

"There's no need for that, Tommy," she giggled, her stomach filling with butterflies at the sweetness of his voice. "I'll be home before you know it."

"Then I'll be waiting," he nodded, showing his sincerity as he squeezed her waist once more, his actions making her smile. His eyes flitted down to her lips then, their closeness and inviting nature becoming paramount in his mind again. "Can I?" he asked permission before doing anything, something he never could have imagined himself doing weeks ago.

"Please do," she smiled at him, her hands finding his collar as he leaned in and pressed his lips to hers once more.

"Fuck," Tommy huffed, pressing his fingers to his eyes in frustration.

"So what do we do, Tom?" Arthur asked his brother, clasping his peaked cap in his hands. "He's there. He's for the taking. We could just..."

"No," Tommy cut him off abruptly, leaning forward so that he could rest his elbows on the desk and put his head in his hands, "no, there'll be problems if we do that."

"Then what?" John chimed in, a bit of an incredulous look present on his face. "We know he did it. He shouldn't get to even think he got away with it."

"We do it another way," Tommy insisted.

"What way?" Arthur asked.

"I don't know yet," Tommy huffed, finally looking at his brothers before he continued, "but you fuckers better not try anything." He accented his direction by pointing at each of the two men as he spoke, his eyes wide to convey his seriousness.

Silence fell in the room then. John and Arthur shared a look before focusing back on their brother. They were both thinking the same thing...but who was going to be the one to say it?

Arthur looked to John again. "Seems like our brother's gotten himself a new perspective," he commented aloud, seeing Tommy's eyes snap to him from the corner of his.

A grin formed on John's face as he heard his older brother speak. Arthur was the one to cast the first stone. Now the floor was wide open. "I think it's because he's been going to that bloody church each weekend," he shared his thoughts on the situation.

Arthur shook his head. "Nah. The only reason he's going there is so he can give that girl a quick shag. You think it'll be worth it, Tom?"

Tommy was now seeing red. "What the fuck are you two going on about? Eh?!"

"That girl from Pol's place. (Y/N), was it?" John answered, even though the previous question was meant to be rhetorical.

"Yeah, yeah. That's her name. She's real pretty," Arthur commented, a smug grin now present.

Tommy couldn't take the comments anymore. He slammed his hand down on the desk, commanding their attention immediately. "Enough!" he bellowed, his eyes wide with anger. "You're not going to talk about her like that. In fact, you're not going fucking to talk about her at all. Understood?" He let out a heavy breath then, looking between the two of them before he swiped at his hair, returning the strands that had fallen over his forehead back to their resting place.

Neither John nor Arthur responded verbally to their brother's statement. Arthur let out a grunt of agreement and John merely nodded, both surprised by the show of emotion they'd just witnessed.

Tommy nodded in response to the silence. "Good. Now go out and figure out how we can get this guy. We need to do it cleanly," he gave them an order, one that made the two of them nod before turning and heading to the door.

John exited without another word, but Arthur stopped with his hand on the door's handle. He looked back to his brother, who had both of his palms placed flat on the desk as he finished recollecting himself.

"She really means something to you, doesn't she?" he broke the silence hanging in the room. His question made Tommy look up. They held eye contact for a few moments. Not a word was said. Arthur got his answer though; he could see it in Tommy's eyes. So instead of prolonging the staring contest, he nodded and exited the office.

Tommy let out a huff as the door shut, closing his eyes and tipping his head back against the chair. (Y/N) came to mind then, and he relished in the thought of her as it made his stresses wash away.

Tommy just happened to be sitting out on the floor of the betting shop when the most out of place looking person entered the building. He clocked the man speaking to Scudboat and continued working on the papers in front of him as he tried to listen into the conversation.

"Is Mr. Shelby in?"

"He's busy. You'll need an appointment. That can be arranged with his..."

"I just need to speak to him for a moment."

"You'll need to arrange an..."

"He's fine to speak with me, Scudboat," Tommy cut into the conversation, coming over to where he and (Y/N)'s father were standing by the door.

"Yes, Mr. Shelby," Scudboat bowed his head as he left the conversation, knowing he was no longer needed.

"What can I do for you, Mr. (Y/L/N)?" Tommy asked (Y/N)'s father then, his eyes trained on the man who still looked so out of place.

"I'm not here to spend any money," the older man quickly replied, a rather sour look present on his face.

"I never thought you were," Tommy responded, hoping that his level voice would ease the other man's inhibitions. "Has something happened to (Y/N)?" he asked then, his brows furrowing as a feeling of worry washed over him.

Mr. (Y/L/N) looked around the room for a moment before his eyes found Tommy's again. "Can we speak somewhere more private?" he requested, the inflection of his voice not giving Tommy any concrete answer to his question. He hated that.

"We can," the gangster nodded, then moving towards one of the private offices - a little too quickly for his liking. "Has something happened to (Y/N)?" he asked again once the two men were behind the closed door.

(Y/N)'s father sucked in a breath and let it out slowly, shaking his head every so slightly before he began speaking, "I know what you do...and I know that it's not right, nor good..." he started, his eyes darting around the room so he wouldn't have to hold Tommy's stare. "But I've seen you with my daughter, how you've tried to open up and let God into your life..." he paused again, taking another deep breath. Tommy wished he'd say what he needed to already. "She sees something in you that I can not, Mr. Shelby, and I hope that you see something in her that goes beyond physical desire."

"Way beyond, Mr. (Y/L/N)," Tommy was quick to tell him, "she's...she's changed me in ways I'd not thought possible."

"Good," the older man nodded, looking pleased with the response he'd gotten. Silence hung in the air then, and both men stared at each other. It was almost like one was waiting for the other to crack; for the other shoe to fall. Mr. (Y/L/N) was the one to speak first. "You have my blessing. You can court my daughter."

Tommy exhaled the breath he didn't know he was holding upon hearing the other man's statement. He immediately extended his hand. "Thank you, Mr. (Y/L/N)."

"Treat her well, Thomas," her father sternly said, accepting the handshake Tommy had offered.

"I will."

Tommy and (Y/N) arrived at the road to (Y/N)'s home, and (Y/N) turned to face him like she always did. She smiled at him, sweetly thanking him for walking her home from church. Tommy smiled at her, tipping his hat and making her giggle - like he usually did. (Y/N) then leaned in and pressed her lips to his, giving him the quick kiss that she'd always leave him with. This time, however, Tommy's hands found her waist and he held her close to him when she pulled away.

"Be mine," he whispered against her lips, pulling back slightly so that his eyes could find hers.

"Tommy," (Y/N) breathed in response to his statement, "my father..."

"He gave me his blessing," he assured her, "will you be mine, (Y/N)?" he asked this time.

A smile spread across (Y/N)'s lips as butterflies erupted in her stomach. This is what she'd been waiting for. Everyone had told her that Tommy Shelby was a man who was to be feared, but that was not the Tommy Shelby that she had the pleasure to know; to get close to. And now he was asking her the question she'd hoped he'd ask ever since the first kiss they shared.

"Yes, Tommy," she answered with a slight nod, excitement bubbling up inside of her, "yes, I'll be yours."

Her words made a smile form on Tommy's face, and instead of saying anything in response, he leaned in and kissed her, showing her how happy he was to hear her answer through the passion he put into the kiss. She was the only person who'd get him to change his ways...and now she was his.

**a little bit about the background: this was based off of a vignette that I read in a book about America in WWI — a man, who was rather rowdy, into no good things, took interest in a woman, and the woman’s father told him that the only way he’d get to court her is if he came to church. The man essentially changed his lifestyle around for her because he was so interested in her and they eventually got married — so just like Tommy, he got the girl.

———

Tagged: @mystcldydrms @the-anxious-youth @cloudofdisney @look-at-the-soul @elenavampire21 @mrsalwayswrite @julkaamazing @evita-shelby @lilyrachelcassidy @notyour-valentine @shelbydelrey @theshelbyslimited @peakyswritings @just-a-blackhole @watercolorskyy @strayrockette @peakyduchesss @alexxavicry @captivatedbycillianmurphy @yummycastiel @dark-academia-slut @tommystargirl @emotionalcadaver @stevie75 @lyarr24 @signorellisantichrist @zablife @anotherblinder @cillmequick @dandelionprints @letal-y-poetica @garrison-girl-08 @insanitybyanothername @depxiety @raincoffeeandfandoms @dragons-are-my-favorite @forgottenpeakywriter @cljordan-imperium @brummiereader @red-riding-wood @everythingelseisextra @little-diable @thomashelbyswife @shaddixlife

MASTERLIST

#tommy shelby #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby x you #tommy shelby x y/n #tommy shelby one shot #tommy shelby oneshot #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby fanfic #tommy shelby fanfiction #peaky blinders #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders x y/n #peaky blinders x you #peaky blinders one shot #peaky blinders oneshot #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders fanfiction #peaky blinders fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic

[toji-girl]

come back to me 1 | pro hero k. bakugo

tags: you two are divorced and parents + angst + repost from my old blog + this part and all the others have been edited to add more

part two | part three | part four

Loud squealing could be heard coupled with loud laughter and heavy footsteps when you knocked on Katsuki’s door. It was the Monday following his weekend with your children and you dreaded this.

Not that you would ever keep Aya and Kouki away from their dad, after all, they are a lot alike. "Mommy!" Aya cried when she was the first one to open the door followed by Katsuki who was dressed up as a villain of sorts if you had to guess.

It's just seeing the only man you ever loved after such a painful divorce that made your heart ache and twist in your chest, and not in a good way either.

They were clearly in the middle of playtime and your stomach dropped. Your ex-husband stood behind his mini him, the little one who looks so much like him down to the resting mean face. "I told you not to open the door without me present my princess." He grumbled with a huff.

"I knew it was mommy though!" She shot back with a little bit of an attitude and waited until you crouched down before wrapping her small arms around your neck followed by her older brother who was dressed as a hero and came running towards you.

Katsuki watched you hug your babies who weren't babies anymore, with Kouki who just turned seven, and Aya five. "I was able to beat the villain and save the princess!" He announced proudly with a smile.

You raised an eyebrow and laughed looking at them and stood up as they both looked at each other. “I’m glad you guys are having fun. Are you two ready to go? It’s getting late and a thunderstorm is going to start very soon so we need to get back before it starts.”

“Can we stay a little longer, please? We still have to finish this and have dinner.” Aya asked, her bottom lip jutted out perfecting the perfect pout to try and persuade it to fall in her favor, her red eyes turned glassy making you nod your head in agreement.

Your eyebrows knitted together a bit as you stood up and looked at Katsuki. You really didn’t want to stay any longer and have to be around the man who has seen every fiber of who you are, and the part that sucked is you still love him so much it hurts at times.

It took him a while for him to admit he liked you but the day he did you'll never forget it, it was the night of high school graduation when he pulled you into an empty classroom to tell you how he felt.

From there you both spent a lot more time together, eventually, he was your first kiss and first everything, he's the only man you've been with and you don't think you're quite ready to get with someone else.

When you got pregnant at the tender age of nineteen, a year after high school it only made sense to get married and you were highly in love with Katsuki but later it all came crumbling down when his job took precedence over everything in his life, including his family.

He’s still madly in love with you and has been since middle school, during his time at UA the relationship was strained a bit as you didn’t go there and his dream of being a pro hero meant everything to him but he still did his best in spending time with you.

Four years into the marriage it was to the point that you couldn’t bear it anymore, no matter how many conversations you had to have about it nothing ever changed and you couldn’t hold him back either.

At the age of twenty-three, you found yourself a single mother with two children.

“If you want I’d never tell you no, it wouldn’t hurt to have dinner as a family.” Katsuki said with a slight grunt as he watched you step inside the house you two bought years ago. You kicked your shoes off and scooped up your children kissing their cheeks with a soft smile.

You followed the blonde male into the kitchen and sat Kouki and Aya down in their chairs at the table. The room smelled delicious, yet another thing you missed about Katsuki then your mind filled with painful memories of spending time dancing in the kitchen.

Aya watched and followed you once you departed from the table, her tiny fist curled into your pant leg. “Did Daddy tell you he has a girlfriend?” She asked looking up at you with an innocent smile.

Your heart sunk to your stomach like a rock being thrown into a lake. It seems he’s moved on and there’s nothing wrong with it because you were the one to ask for the divorce. “No he didn’t, is she nice to you?” You asked in return hoping your voice didn't creak or break.

It's been three years since the divorce and it only made sense for him to move on, you didn't blame him but that didn't lessen the pain you felt, it was a never-ending soft pulsing pain that stung.

Katsuki stared at his daughter while making the plates, it was something he wanted to share with you privately but it seems like now is the best time. He could see it clear as day the pain in your eyes and wondered why you felt such a way after divorcing him.

“She is yes! She takes Kouki and me to school and makes desserts!” Aya replied not understanding how that could affect you in such a manner.

Katsuki cleared his throat and made the table. “Sit down, Aya.” He told her.

His voice was soft but still something you didn’t want to argue with. Your bottom lip wobbled a bit as your stomach curled. “How would you two like it if you were able to stay with your dad one more day? I’ll pick you up tomorrow.” You asked with a soft smile that was fake.

The air felt thick inside your lungs, like it was mud and breathing was no longer an option. You needed to get out of there before you broke down in a fit of tears and the last thing you wanted was for your kids to see such a thing. You knew why it hurt still. You love Katsuki.

“You don’t have -” Katsuki began then cut off at the eager nod of their heads at the prospect of being able to stay. You smiled and kissed their foreheads and swiftly gave each a tight hug before pulling away to stand up.

You looked at Katsuki and then down at your plate, you were starving but wouldn't be able to stay any longer to eat, and he was right, it would be nice to have a family dinner until the bomb was dropped.

Was it a bit cowardly to run away? Perhaps.

But you couldn't help how you felt about him. You'd always love him no matter what.

Aya dug into her food as did your son thanking their dad for everything. "Before the storm hits I gotta go, and my apartment is about thirty minutes away anyway." You explained and turned your attention back to your children.

"I'll see you two tomorrow morning then, be good and make sure you listen well to your daddy." Your voice wavered with unshed emotions, and being by yourself meant you could get the chance to calm down and think about him moving on. 

With another handful of hugs and forehead kisses, you walked to the front door to slip your shoes on and open the door only for it to be shut, and Katsuki's arm next to your head as he stood behind you so close you could feel his warmth and smell his cologne and him.

His chest brushed against your back when he took in a deep breath. "Don't go. The kids don't want you to go, you can sleep in ou- my bed and I'll take the couch, it's raining already anyway, so stay here."

You cleared your throat and turned to look at him, but instead, your gaze dropped down to the faded text of his Pro Hero name on his shirt. It was one you've worn too many times to count. "I'll take the couch then and we'll head out after breakfast then."

#katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki x reader #katsuki x you #Katsuki x reader #Katsuki Bakugo x reader #Bakugo x reader #my hero academia x reader #mha x reader #bnha x reader #bnha x you #Katsuki x you #bnha bakugou #bakugou x reader #bakugou x you #bakugo katsuki

[eve-dawntower]

Treasure (Rafayel x MC)

Rafayel used to have all your attention, but now a rival has arrived. Who would have thought that the most formidable rival he'll ever get is his own flesh and blood?

Warning: None

Pairing: Rafayel x Reader

Tags: Fluff

Rafayel was truly happy when he found out he was going to be a father. I mean, a child is a combination of a small bit of him and a small bit of you, right? He was genuinely ready to become a father despite whatever nonsense Thomas was spouting. But what he wasn't ready for was you focusing all your attention on the half-merman toddler the two of you had created.

Rafayel glared at the small being splashing in the swimming pool in the middle of the baby room. The water in the pool was actually seawater and at the same temperature as the deep waters. Normally, Lemurian children could withstand the temperature above the sea, but babies and toddlers can't. It was all thanks to the protocore technology that they were able to create a baby room appropriate for a half-Lemurian and half-human brat. Brat. That's right. That's what he called his own spawn.

The toddler giggled as you tickled him, making Rafayel pout more. Why was he getting all your attention? The first few months after the baby was born were fine, but he's already eight months old! Isn't it about time for you to turn all your attention back to him, the father?

"At what age will he be able to learn to change his tails to legs?" you asked, not taking your eyes off your son. See? You can't even spare him a small glance, even though you're asking him questions!

"Around three or four. I still need to teach him how. But it's still up to him if he'll be able to master it or not. Not every Lemurian is capable of doing it. Only the talented ones," he replied sullenly.

Noticing that familiar tone, you turned to look at him, and for the first time, you realized he was pouting.

"What's the matter?" you asked him.

"Nothing," he turned away and stomped out of the room.

You look back to your son who was playing around the pool, oblivious to his father's mood.

Days turned into weeks, and Rafayel's frustration lingered. His days were now filled with a mix of responsibilities and longing for the attention he once had. The house echoed with the occasional splash from the baby room, where your son continued to explore his aquatic abilities under your devoted guidance.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, you found Rafayel brooding in the dimly lit living room. The soft glow revealed the depth of his emotions, and you couldn't ignore the strain on the relationship.

"Rafayel, we need to talk," you said, settling beside him. He sighed, reluctantly turning to face you.

"It's just... I feel like I've become a background character in my own story. Our story," he confessed, his eyes reflecting a mix of frustration and vulnerability.

You took his hand, reassuringly squeezing it. "I understand it's been an adjustment, but our son needs our attention. We can find a balance."

He nodded, but the ache in his eyes lingered. The following days, you made a conscious effort to involve Rafayel in the daily routines with your son, trying to bridge the emotional gap that had grown.

However, the problem with Rafayel was that he's very stubborn, and no matter how hard he tried, it was difficult for him not to be salty about how much attention his son was getting from you.

One day, you were suddenly called into a mission. Normally, Thomas takes care of your son when you're away, but Thomas is away for now, and calling a babysitter is obviously not an option. After all, you can't let anyone know about your half-Lemurian child. Left with no choice, you have to leave the child in Rafayel's care.

"Rafayel, please take very good care of him," you said, looking at him with a comically desperate expression.

Rafayel gave you a very offended look. "What do you think of me?! Incapable of taking care of my own child?!"

The conversation you had regarding what he was feeling about your child having all your attention lingers in your mind, but you decide to shake it off. Rafayel dislikes cats, but he took good care of one for you back then. What more if it's his flesh and blood? Despite what he was feeling, he wouldn't be irresponsible, right?

You nodded and planted a small kiss on the child's temple before leaving.

Rafayel stared at the doorway with an offended and exaggerated expression of shock.

"She didn't kiss me goodbye!"

The toddler giggled, making Rafayel turn to glare at him.

As Rafayel continued to glare at the toddler, the little mischief-maker seized the opportunity and splashed a handful of water in Rafayel's direction, prompting an unexpected reaction.

Rafayel dramatically recoiled, clutching his heart with mock horror. "Assaulted by a baby! This is outrageous!"

The toddler found this uproarious and burst into giggles, thoroughly enjoying the water-based escapade. Rafayel, however, continued his theatrics, staggering around the room as if gravely wounded.

"You've wounded me, my aquatic progeny! I'm a victim of watery aggression!" Rafayel declared, sinking to his knees in a theatrical display of defeat.

Your son, finding this turn of events entertaining, crawled over to Rafayel and patted him on the head. Rafayel seized the opportunity to cradle the toddler in his arms, feigning weakness.

"Ah, the betrayer himself consoles the wounded party. What a world!" Rafayel exclaimed dramatically, earning more giggles from the toddler.

The baby room transformed into a stage for this impromptu comedy, with Rafayel playing the role of the aggrieved victim. Despite the initial frustration, the absurdity of the situation broke the tension, and laughter echoed through the house.

Rafayel sighed after a few moments. "I wonder if your mommy still loves me. It's unfair! I'm the first! Why does it seem that she loves you more?" He whined as he poked the baby's nose, making him laugh. "Yeah, keep laughing at me. Pour more salt on your father's wound." He sighed. "I don't really hate you or anything. I mean, how can I? You're my son. Your mommy's and mine's son. But it really makes me sad how I ended up being shoved aside when you arrive in our life."

Just then, the child dragged himself off his father and slowly pulled himself towards the drawer. Rafayel watched him and mentally compare him to a seal.

The baby then looked at Rafayel, then back to the drawer, babbling.

"What is it?" Rafayel approached his son questioningly.

The child babbled as if trying to communicate with him.

Rafayel sighed. "I really don't have any idea what you're trying to say."

Pouting with a pout that resembles his, the child tried to reach and pulled lower the drawer handle.

"Hey, don't!"

Rafayel grabbed him away from it, making the child look at him in displeasure.

Rafayel groaned. "I guess Thomas is right. You really do look like a spitting image of me, especially when you're unhappy. Fine. You want to open this?"

Rafayel pulled the bottom drawer open, where he saw a book. He took it out and inspected it.

"What's this?" he muttered as he sat on the couch with the baby on his lap. He flipped the first page and realized it's like a diary. Only, it was a diary of your pregnancy.

When you were pregnant, you decided to write all your thoughts in it and how you felt at that time. Rafayel was unaware of it.

He started to read what you wrote.

"Rafayel is always childish and insufferable. He always annoys me, and sometimes I really want to choke him..."

"What the heck?! Is this all about her complaints about me?!"

The baby chuckled as if understanding what his father was saying.

Rafayel glanced at him. "Your mother... Seriously..." He shook his head and flipped to the next page, reading the contents.

More complaints about him were written. The farther he got, the harsher her words became. By the time he was halfway, he was more than ready to burn the diary. But then...

"Rafayel might not be the most mature guy out there, but he is really trying. Despite my mood swings and weird cravings, he was there, never leaving my side. Even if he always ends up receiving my anger, he never retaliated. Well, after I cried when he talked back once, he stop with his sassy remarks. I guess my cries traumatized him. Haha. If you gave me a chance to exchange him with someone else, I'll never do it. Because he's the only man I ever loved and will always love. He is also the one who gave me my treasure. My child."

As Rafayel read the diary, the realization dawned on him that, during your pregnancy, you had poured your heart onto those pages. The entries spoke volumes about the emotional journey you went through, and he found himself becoming a central figure in the narrative.

In the heartfelt words, you described how Rafayel was your pillar of support, always there to ease your fears and celebrate every milestone. The diary chronicled his late-night runs to satisfy your sudden cravings, the countless moments of reassurance, and the joy he brought into the preparations for the baby's arrival.

As Rafayel continued reading, a mix of emotions played on his face—astonishment, gratitude, and a touch of humility. It was a revelation that he had been a vital part of your pregnancy, more than he had realized.

He glanced at the baby in his lap, who seemed fascinated by the unfolding drama. Rafayel couldn't help but smile, a newfound warmth settling in his heart.

"I had no idea," he murmured, a genuine appreciation for the role he played during those months.

The entries continued to paint a picture of a loving partnership, with Rafayel actively participating in creating a nurturing environment for the upcoming addition to the family. He discovered how, despite his initial grumblings, he had been a source of strength for you.

Closing the diary, Rafayel looked at his son with a newfound understanding. The baby, sensing his father's softened demeanor, reached out and touched Rafayel's cheek, as if acknowledging the unspoken connection.

He hugged the baby. "If she consider you a treasure that I gave her, it makes sense how much she cares about you." He kissed his son's temple. "I also care about you but I guess I just felt so left out, I started seeing you as a rival. I promise it will never happen again."

With the diary in his hands, Rafayel felt a newfound appreciation for the bond he shared with you and the significance of his role in your life. As he embraced his son, a sense of warmth enveloped the room, dissolving the remnants of frustration that had lingered.

In that moment, the past frustrations and perceived rivalries faded away. The baby room became a sanctuary of reflection and realization. Rafayel embraced the depth of his role, not just as a father in the present but as a constant support throughout the journey of bringing their child into the world.

_____

After the particularly challenging mission, you returned home, exhausted yet relieved to be back. Opening the door, you realized it was too quiet.

"Rafayel?" You called out, worried about your husband and child.

You receive no reply and so, you went to the baby room.

Just then, you were greeted by a scene that melted away any residual weariness.

In the dim light of the baby room, you saw Rafayel peacefully sleeping on the pool, the baby nestled on his chest, both in a serene slumber. The sight was heartwarming – a testament to the newfound understanding and unity that had blossomed in your absence.

You couldn't help but smile at the peaceful tableau. Gently, you approached the sleeping duo and planted a soft kiss on Rafayel's kiss. He stirred, slowly waking up with a dazed expression.

"Welcome back," he whispered, his voice still heavy with sleep.

You nodded, savoring the tranquility of the moment. "What happened while I was away?"

Rafayel grinned, gesturing to the peacefully sleeping baby on his chest. "Well, we had a little water-based escapade, a dramatic showdown, and a realization that we're all in this together. Oh, and I read your pregnancy diary. Turns out, I played a more significant role than I thought."

"What?! Where do you find it?!" Your cheek reddened in embarrassment. You almost forgot about that diary.

"Well, a little fishy showed it to me," Rafayel gently shifted, allowing you to join them on the poolside. You gave him a look, annoyed that you wanted to get in the pool and have your hunter outfit get wet.

Sighing, you got in the pool.

"It's my real feelings, by the way," you said, referring to the diary's content.

"Yeah. Sorry for being so childish. I guess I just got used to having all your attention. I mean, I'm used to having everyone's attention. As a child, everyone fawned on me, and even when I became an adult, being the artist that I am, everyone looks up to me. So now, having another being get the attention of the person that I love the most made me anxious. I promise I'll never try to compete with my own son for attention."

"I also want to apologize, Rafayel. I guess I really did neglect you." You kissed his lips, as if apologizing for the times he felt neglected.

"It's fine. But promise me, once our child is old enough, I'll be the number one again."

You chuckled at that and snuggled to him.

"I promise."

"And I'm sorry for being a bit of a drama king," he admitted, a playful glint in his eyes.

You chuckled, "Well, I wouldn't have it any other way. Our story may be a bit dramatic, but it's uniquely ours."

The three of you shared a moment of quiet happiness, basking in the love that bound your unconventional family.

With your son sleeping peacefully between you, the challenges of the past were replaced by a sense of unity and understanding. As you leaned in to share a tender moment with Rafayel, you knew that every twist and turn in your story had led to this beautiful chapter of shared laughter, love, and the promise of a bright future together.

As the moonlight filtered through the window, casting a gentle glow on the room, you couldn't help but feel grateful for the journey that had brought you to this moment. 

END

MASTERLIST

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace rafayel #rafayel #rafayel x reader

[fabled-fiction]

Absence Makes the Heart Grow Fonder (Hobie Brown x Spider!Reader)

Summary: When Hobie hasn’t seen you in a while, he starts to come to the realization that he might be missing you for the wrong reasons. So when you come back, all those feelings reasons come bubbling up to the surface.

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: MINOR SPIDERVERSE SPOILERS

A/N: This kinda took a mind of its own, but I LOVED writing every second of it. Hope you enjoy it!! ☺️

Request by @its-me-ig-101: I was wondering if I could request for you to write a fluff Hobie Brown x GN reader, where the reader visits Hobie in his universe, or reverse? (Kind of like what Gwen does)

It had been 127 days since he last saw you,

14 since you last spoke.

It wasn’t like he was counting or anything. Nah…no he was completely able to be his own person. I mean, he had a whole Earth to protect as Spiderman.

But if he was being honest with himself, he didn’t think four months apart would take such a toll on him.

You both were just always together. It didn’t cross his mind that there could be more than two to  three days of you being away…from him especially. Gwen always joked about how quickly you both became so close so quickly. How Hobie was usually a steel trap and you were the key.

And he couldn’t even visit you! You were away on Spider business! Miguel had you consistently going after anomalies. It didn’t help that you had an insanely good success rate. Hell! Hobie couldn’t remember the last time you didn’t catch one of the anomalies!

“I’m sure they’ll be back soon! This is the ultimate test before the big question! Will their relationship prevail over this unexpected test?!”

Pavitr placed his hand on his chest, spinning around before collapsing onto Hobie's bed, where he was currently lounging. His fingers fiddled with his watch, flicking through all the channels. Maybe if he clicked on the right one, he would end up on the Earth where you were. Miguel had stopped telling him what Earth you were visiting, knowing he would just tag along. But Hobie could come up with something on the fly, he didn’t give a damn at this point if Miguel was pissed at him for interrupting your mission.

He would like to see him try and keep you from him any longer at this point.

“Hello, Earth to Hobie. Hey!”

Catching the plush that Gwen had thrown at him, he huffed and sat up. Pav smiled when he caught a glimpse at Hobie’s watch, and the roulette wheel of universes were still going. 

“ Dude, they’re fine! (Y/N) is like…an invincible spider.”

“You know why he’s being more quiet than usual! He’s realizing he’s in looove. Our Hobie is head over he-” A well shot pillow from Hobie landed Pavitr on the floor.

“Am I not allowed to miss a friend? I remember ‘ow upset you were whenever you’d talk ‘bout Miles.” He scoffed, crossing his arms. He smirked when he saw how red Gwen’s face got.

“Ooooh we’re starting to enter the grumpy Hobie stage!” Pav shot up into a sitting position, this time dodging the second pillow that he had thrown.

Scoffing, he waved his hand at them as he pulled his phone out of his pant pocket. Unlocking it, he scrolled through his photo album and sighed.

They always teased him like this when he was down in the dumps. It had just been more recent as of late, seeing as you were rising in the ranks. Meaning you were gone more and more.

That also meant your friendship was tested more and more. He had noticed the change, he wasn’t completely blind to his emotions. He had noticed that as of late whenever you were gone he got a bit more snippy, and a bit more cynical-well more cynical than usual. Some had even told him that his color seemed more drained the longer and longer you were away.

This time had just been the longest. But it was also the most eye opening.

It's odd how you don’t notice how consistent someone is in your life until they’re gone.

He was mindlessly scrolling with a thousand yard stare off into the distance, when his phone suddenly anchored him back to reality.

Specifically your text tone.

Flicking to his messages, he felt his heart rate pick up.

(Y/N): heey! im finally back!! i missed you (cry emoji) (heart emoji)

Before his head could reminisce on the heart emoji and brew up any meaning behind it, he heard Pav gasp. Quickly looking up from his phone, he saw Pav squeal in excitement and Gwen chuckle as she shook her head.

“Look at him G! Do you see how much brighter he is? Ugh! Our boy has it bad.”

Sliding off his bed, he grabbed his bag and mask. Both Gwen and Pavitr could see that there was some pep in his step as he slung the bag over his shoulder. Fastening his web shooters on, he slid his mask into his pocket before entering your Earth into his watch.

“Oh oh! Where you heading Hobie? Thought we were having some serious bro time!”

Flicking them off, Hobie felt the portal open below him. Glancing through, he could see the flickering lights of your Earth.

“Piss off.”

Jumping through the portal, Hobie braced himself as he felt a quick rush before landing on your bed. The flickering and crackling of the portal remained only for a second before it snapped shut, dropping everything in the room along with its departure.

You stood in the opposite corner of the room, barely even unpacked. Your bag sat at the foot of your desk, unzipped with some of your clothes spilling out. You must’ve just texted him, because you were still in your spider suit…with one of his jumpers on.

Turning around, a smile spread across your face in an instant. Whatever you were doing was soon abandoned as you ran towards him. He was quick to stand, enveloping you in his frame. Feeling your aura mix with his, as he buried his nose into your hair felt nice. It awoke whatever nerves that had gone into hibernation after your departure, activating his senses once more.

Because he became highly aware of how right when you entered his arm, the hairs on yours stood under your suit. Your heart rate calmed but also picked up. Hell, he could even feel the blood rush to your cheeks as you buried your head into his chest.

“You really did miss me aye?” He teased, pulling you back by your shoulders to get a good look at his face.

“Mmm, only like…thiiiiiiis much.” Holding up two fingers, he watched as you held them close together and very very slowly pulled them apart. 

“Oh wow, and here I was in absolute agony.” He hummed, sitting on the edge of your windowsill.

“Oh really?” You laugh, leaning over him. He looked up at you, nodding as he placed his hands in his pocket.

“Absolutely, almost died.”

Watching you laugh was something he knew he needed. It wasn’t too hard, at least for him. Your back and forth quips and teases were something that usually ended in you laughing or him chuckling. Inside jokes and knowing stares were usually exchanged to test the waters whenever others were around. It happened so often people usually felt excluded whenever you were both in each other's presence.

It was something he didn’t know he could miss. 

“Wanna go for a swing?”

Watching the way your eyes lit up, he knew he had his answer.

Slipping his mask on, he was quick to open your window. He knew you were right behind him as he swung into action.

This was a dance you both did whenever you visited his world, swinging between buildings and each other. Finding ways to play off the others webbing and moves.

He loved watching you swing and flip. Hearing you laugh as you gave him a heart attack with how close you’d like to fall before yanking yourself back up into the air.

He felt a rush of similar emotions in the two weeks of you going dark. Whenever it was just him alone in his room, his mind would wander. He knew that if anything had happened he would have been the first told, both a blessing and a curse. But it still didn’t stop him from…worrying.

When did his worry for you become such a crutch?

Reaching to your normal hang out, what was atop your Statue of Liberty (which was still bronze here on your earth), both of you sat atop her torch. With shoulders touching, he watched as you leaned back and looked at your city.

“So, how many anomalies did you catch on this little spree of yours?” 

With a big sigh you ripped your mask off and stuffed it into your-no, his jacket pocket. Bringing a knee to your chest you placed your cheek on it as you looked at him.

“Twelve. Probably the most in a row.”

Tisking, he leaned back on his hands now as he also took his mask off.

“Wow, remember which ones?”

“Most of them were Vultures. They were the only ones that could reach the portals that opened in their respective worlds. I might as Miguel if I can take a break though.”

That piqued his interest. But he didn’t show a reaction, in fact he just hummed and watched as you put your forehead to rest on your knees.

“I appreciate how much Miguel…trusts me to keep the multiverse intact, I really do. I went through hell with his stupid tests in order to get into the Spider Society and its…its lead me to meet some of my favorite people but recently I've been more Spider than Person…”

Hobie sat up now, putting his elbows on his knees and smirking. He knew what you needed to hear in this moment. He knew you like the back of his hand, in the year that you two have gotten to know each other it is safe to say he almost knows you better than he knows himself. The same could probably be said about you knowing him.

“Favorite people aye? Where do I fall on that list?”

Watching you lift your head to give him a quick glance, a small smile graced your lips before you lifted your head fully to clear your throat.

“Atleast top…let's say ten? There's a lot of competition BB.” You chuckle

“Oh yea? That jumper you’re wearing says otherwise.”

Your eyes grew almost as wide as the lenses on your mask as you looked down. Your hands gripped the edge of the jacket for a moment before shoving into the pockets.

“Oh I uh…yea I dunno what to say…”

The gears were turning in your head, he could tell. Something was brewing.

“..y’know I didn’t even realize I had packed this until I was subconsciously putting it on the first night. I'm being dead serious when I tell you I only ever took it off whenever I was about to go into battle…I didn’t wanna ruin it.”

He smiled to himself listening to your words. Something similar to what was brewing in your head was brewing in his chest.

These past few months, more specifically the past two weeks where you couldn’t contact him, there was a confession building. Words that were just waiting in the dark until he was at his most vulnerable to come into the light were bubbling up in his throat. The only thing keeping them from spilling right at this very moment was the seal of his lips.

It was nice, having you back. But all these realizations that he was having just in these last few days, especially now in these moments he was sharing with you, told him all he needed to know.

Especially with those words that you had just said to him, he knew his realization was not far from out of the blue.

“ Y’know those two weeks were you went dark were ‘ell. Pav and Gwendy were up my arse the entire time. It irked me how well they read me those two weeks..”

Watching you grow still and turn towards him, and sighed before turning towards you as well.

“I'm sorry about that Hobbie…my communicator died and Miguel told me I wasn’t allowed a new one until I finished my assignment. Which made everything so much harder to do since I had to wait for texts from Lyla and code instead of her just being able to talk me through it.”

“I knew it ‘ad to be somethin outta your control…and I also had a keepsake that ‘elped me keep my cool.”

Pulling back his cuffs, an array of bracelets both woven and made were on both of his wrists. They were all yours, but ones you hadn’t seen in a while and ones you were sure you had left on your desk before you had left.

What he couldn’t show you was the shirt he had of yours that was also on his pillow. He had it for the same reason he was sure you had his jacket for the entire trip…

Though it was starting to lose your scent.

There was a comfortable silence, at least he hoped there was. He could barely tell based off the thumping of his heart…

When he finally made eye contact with you, he saw a dopey smile on your face. It made him smile too. No matter how long you two were apart, no matter how raw the two of you got it never changed anything.

Well, he hoped nothing would change after what he was about to do.

Hobie wasn’t scared of a lot, practically nothing. But you scared the ever loving shit out of him. Both with all the stunts that you pulled and just the way you made him feel. He used to be this hardass corruptor but now? He wasn’t sure what he was without you.

“Hey Hobie..”

“Yea?”

“You should totally kiss me right now.”

“Yup.”

His hand fit perfectly on the crook of your neck, and so did his lips with yours.

Whatever you were feeling spilled into him, and he with you. A full year's worth of pent up emotion exploded into the kiss as he seemingly took your breath away. In recent months he could only imagine how your lips would feel against his, but it was nothing compared to what he was experiencing right now. Yours and his molded together in a flurry of silken passion, fitting together perfectly just like he knew they would.

Your hands found their place resting on his cheeks, just as his found theirs. With one resting on your neck and the other finding its way onto your side to pull you close. So close that he could feel the drum of your heart match his when your chests collided.

He wanted to curse whatever being made it so that the human body needed oxygen. When you pulled away his lips followed yours in chase, and it wasn’t until you held his face in place so that your bruised lips could take in a breath. Your finger ran over his bottom lip, playing with his lip ring as he panted in time with you.

“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do that…how..how being away from you for so long made me realize that's all I’ve ever wanted to do.”

“I ‘ave an idea.”

His hand that rested on the edge of your neck came around to hold your throat, with his fingers resting on your pulse.

It was going a mile a minute just like his.

#hobie brown #hobie brown x reader #x reader #across the spiderverse #marvel x reader #spiderman across the spiderverse #spiderman across the spiderverse x reader #into the spider verse #spiderman x reader #spiderpunk x reader #spider punk #spider!reader

[garoujo]

✩ ˛˚ . ITOSHI SAE + SHIDOU RYUSEI ; — it’s obvious that shidou wants you but sae’s never been one to share.. until recently.

warnings: f!reader, stepcest, all characters written 22+, pussy + ass eating [at the same time], 3some. note: this drove me insane i’m sorry i’ve been crazy all day since writing. [repost since it got taken out of tags + i was private for a bit]

you always thought your step brother’s sae’s ‘friend’ shidou was a little.. strange, he’d never done anything in particular that made you uncomfy but he was so shameless when it came to his attraction towards you.

sharp eyes locked on your figure from across the room, shamelessly creeping around the swell of your ass or the bounce of your thighs and chest with every step you took. but the tight grit of your brothers jaw made you wonder why he even brought him around at all with how seeming irritated he always seemed to make him.

sae was protective of you, as most big brothers would be but he always seemed a little more territorial whenever shidou seemed to always follow you into every room. always too close or too flirty — behaviour sae had always brought up as soon as he left with a “do you really think he’d make you feel as good as i do, sweetheart?” normally mumbled into the crook of your neck or the where his lips would press against your ankle as your legs rest his chest.

so you don’t know what’s changed by the next time you’re met with them both in the living room, both men’s eyes are on you and it’s hard to miss the sort of glow that blooms as you approach. you suddenly feel too warm under your clothes and the small shorts you’d opted to wear suddenly feel too short with the thick atmosphere that seems to blanket the three of you as you draw closer.

another careful step and you almost jump when you feel shidou’s hand loop around your thighs, squeezing teasingly as he pulls you into him. “oh? all of this for me? you must’ve known i was coming~” he sings and you swallow rough when your eyes lock with your brother sae’s on the other couch.

he’d never let him get this far before, normally he’d have been called off by now — like a dog returning to its owner after being let off its leash. but now— you can feel every press of shidou’s fingers against your skin as they creep closer to the hem of your shorts.

“not yet. hands off you demon.” sae grits eventually, his voice lower than usual as his cheek rests against his fist — head tilting as he notices the laboured rise and fall of your chest. another too close press of his friends fingers along the inside of your thigh, deliberately grazing it along the base of your shorts before it retreats entirely and you feel like you can’t even speak.

“hehehe, alright~” shidou drawls, cheeky smirk in place before he’s resting back against the couch — thighs spread and arms resting along the back like he hasn’t just rendered you into a mess with a single touch. but just as quickly as your attention leaves your brother, for a second, it’s drawn back with the next quick tap of his palm against his lap.

it was unlike sae to be so openly affectionate with you in company, fucking his step sister was a headline he’d hoped to avoid after all, but you’d also never been one to ignore his commands — not when he treated you so well.

so you’re quick to listen, your hips taking a noticeably sinful sway as you approach him and you’re not ignorant to the way you can feel shidou’s sharp gaze drinking you up from behind, giggling as he watches the way you slink your way into your own brothers lap. oh you’re such a twisted little thing— he fucking loves it.

“sae-nii.” you drawl as your hands rest around his shoulders— pressing your chest closer to his as your thighs squeeze around his hips.

“hm?” sae returns as his gaze falls along your features, his palms rest carefully against your hips — teetering carefully along the swell of your ass but he lets the silence hang in the space where you both take a breath before he speaks. he knows you can sense the change, the tension.

“shidou thinks he can treat you better, but we both know that’s not true, don’t we?” it’s blunt and straight to the point, accompanied by the press of his palms as he takes a handful of your ass that has you melting into him. it’s deliberate and calculated, like he’s staking a claim — you’re his sister after all, like he’s proving he can play you like a violin.

“i just accepted his challenge.” sae’s voice is like honey as he palms at your body — gaze locked on yours like he’s giving you a moment to submit or deny. if it wasn’t for the drawled, dreamy giggle that sounds from over your shoulder you’d have forgotten about shidou entirely with the way the man below you has you drunk on him already, nodding softly as your hips press tighter against his.

“oh, i’ll have you fallin’ in love~” it’s cocky, irritatingly so when you almost see it pop a vein on your big brothers temple as his teammate approaches from behind you, letting himself loom over your figure as he presses himself against your back — completely ignoring the fact you’re already in another man’s lap.

“fat chance. she’s still my sister.” sae grits but he doesn’t call off shidou, he can feel the way being pressed between the both of them is making you warmer — needier as you grind yourself deeper into your brothers lap. instead, he lets one of his hands smooth up to hook around your chin, keeping your clouded gaze on his just as the man behind you’s palms reach around to squeeze and grab at your breasts.

“and we both know id rather die than let him have you all to himself.”

your brother was right, he wasn’t about to let shidou have all of the fun — which is why you already feel like putty, twisting and breaking at the seams of your sanity as your fingers twitch into the fabric of the couch. it all seemed to happen so fast, going from pressed between two men to being bent over your own couch with one between your thighs and the others chest pressed against your back.

“oh shit, that’s the stuff.” shidou grunts from where he’s resting on the floor — head pressed back against the edge of the couch as you grind yourself down onto the warm press of his tongue and mouth as you sit on his face. “knew this pussy would be sweet~” everything about how he eats you out is messy and you’re oh so fucking addictive, pressing yourself back deeper into the hug of your brothers chest as his friend takes a long taste of your cunt.

it’s fucking filthy, the way you can feel sae’s cock press against the swell of your ass as he takes control of your hips — easing your movements along the man below you’s mouth as he pumps his own cock, already throbbing at the taste of you on his tongue.

“f-feels s’ good, sae-nii.” you babble as you rock yourself into every eager swipe of shidou’s tongue, trembling when you feel the muscle push it’s way into the squeeze of your walls, slurping and smacking at the slick every press seems to push out of you. his cheeks and chin must be soaked with a mixture of you and his own spit, but it only seems to urge him to go further, wrapping his free arm around your hips as his lips trail higher — closing around your clit as he suckles languidly with the next rough stroke of his own palm along his cock.

it’s fucking shameless the way the striker is moaning against you, low and ragged as he grins against your slick folds — sharp eyes watching the way your lips part to moan as your own brother toys and squeezes at your tits. “fuck sake, you’re gonna make me fuckin’ cum.” shidou giggles and sae shoots him a lidded look from over your shoulder before he clicks his tongue, taking a particularly rough handful of your breasts before he sighs.

“don’t blow your load just yet..” your brother breathes against your shoulder before his lips are resting against your neck, his large palms smoothing down your waist gently before they’re suddenly wrapping in shidou’s hair to push him even deeper into you. but it only seems to make the striker feel even better as he moans loudly, messily heading the command with the pleasurable sting in his scalp as his nose knocks against your clit, feeling your warm walls flex around his thick tongue when he dips it past your fluttering hole.

“because you’ve not reached your limit yet, have you, sweetheart?” the way your brother addresses you is sweet, a sharp contrast to the way you know he’s about to break you as he kisses his way along the backs of your shoulders — easing his lips down your spine as he finally lets go off his friends hair in favour of falling to his knees behind you.

“sae-nii.. i cant, can’t take anymore—feels too good, ah!” you’re like fucking putty already as your thighs tremble but you still push back into the spread of sae’s palms as he spreads your cheeks. the movements followed by a particularly soft kiss against the puckered hole that lies beneath — basically begging him for some attention.

“you can take it. unless you want me to leave you with that demon?” his words are sharp despite the way he leans into you anyway, letting his tongue swipe and roll along the tight ring of your ass as your back arches. you feel so overwhelmed with pleasure, having two men working at both of your holes makes you feel on the brink of breaking completely but you can’t stop, grinding back into each wet smack of their tongues as they groan against you.

“n-no! don’t leave, need you.” it’s so fucked up but it’s so good, one of your hands reaching down to tangle into shidou’s hair as the other reaches back to tangle in sae’s — every smack of their lips is wet and it’s dangerous the way you already feel so close. the striker below you giggles as he bites teasingly at your clit, making you twitch just as your brother pushes his tongue past the first right ring of muscle that makes you cry out for him.

“oh shit, that’s the stuff.. didn’t know you were so filthy, itoshi sae.” shidou’s panting like a fucking animal as he pumps at his cock, he could do this all day — having too much fun underneath you while his teammate works at the parts of you he can’t quite reach right now.

“and what about it?” there’s a crack in sae’s usual collected tone of voice, one that’s driven for the need to taste more of you — to prove that he’s the only one that knows how to work his sisters body. you were born for him and he’ll prove it as he pushes himself deeper, driven by the want to have you crying out your brothers name as you cum.

“hehe, nothing~ you itoshi’s are fuuun.”

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