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cc--2224 · 6 months

Text

Comfort

Pairing: Tech x Reader

Summary: You planned the perfect Life Day trip for yourself and Tech, positive that everything will go perfectly. When it doesn't, Tech is able to cheer you up and comfort you.

Warnings: Perhaps a touch of angst but it's generally all fluff

Notes: This was written for the Life Day Fic exchange @cloneficgiftexchange for @clone-anon HAPPY HOLIDAYS!!

Prompts: I tried to use them all as best as I could but as requested - first life day together || stuck in a storm and forehead kisses || "wait, please don't go" || one bed trope next morning with "is it weird I'm comfortable"

Word Count: ~1.9k

Read on AO3 Here

Taglist: None, let me know if you'd like to be added!

Masterlist

You always loved to celebrate the holidays with your friends and loved ones and knowing that this would be your first Life Day with Tech made you even more excited. You had a tendency to go a little overboard with preparations, but one of the first things Tech noticed about you was how much fun you had making plans; whether it was briefing before a mission, or even something as small as going to the best markets for supplies and rations. He began to love how much thought you’d put into everything you did.

But when you approached him about spending the holidays together, he was a little apprehensive. He and his brothers had never done anything for Life Day, it wasn't something the Kaminoans ever observed, and during the war it was the last thing on anyone’s mind, so he wasn't sure exactly what he was supposed to do. He relaxed when you had told him that you would handle everything, and eventually agreed.

The first thing you decided on was renting out a small cabin. You decided on a room with two beds, making sure there would be plenty of room for both of you to be comfortable. You hadn't been together very long, there was the occasional hug or kiss on the cheek, but you hadn't quite been able to broach the topic of cuddling with a man who was very protective over his space, so for a first Life Day, this was a better option.

The activities were next. You always loved spending the day before Life Day venturing out and looking at the decorations people had. Festive string lights, standees or statues of Wookiees in red robes, holiday candies, you loved when people went all out, and you always enjoyed being able to share that with the people you love. Even if it was cold, snow was always welcome, a gentle snowfall always made this time extra special. And then when you'd get home after seeing all the beautiful decorations, you'd always put on a holofilm to enjoy with your loved ones as a relaxing way to end the day.

You also made sure that, while it wasn't necessary, you had a gift for Tech. It was difficult to shop for him, but you knew it was worth it. The market stalls you visited didn't seem to have much that really stood out, not for Tech anyway. You wanted his gift to be special. He seemed like the type of person who, if you were to ask what to get him, he would list things he needed to make repairs to the Marauder, and while you'd happily buy them for him if that's what he truly wanted, it didn't seem like a good enough gift. He deserved something to use for himself rather than to use to work on the ship. You had soon passed by a shop with some newer devices, including a datapad that had just become commercially available. You knew Tech had always been fiddling with his, and you'd heard him complain about it more than once, so in your indecision of what to get him, you decided to at least start there. It seemed easier to buy something for the others than it was for Tech; a Loth cat stuffy for Wrecker, a new knife for Hunter, and a seemingly endless box of toothpicks for Crosshair.

But, with all of that out of the way, you could really focus on finalizing your plans for your time with Tech, and when Life Day finally rolled around, you felt completely prepared for it, and your excitement was palpable. Even Tech seemed excited, though you weren't sure how much of it was excitement rather than curiosity.

The morning of your reservation at the cabin, the others dropped you and Tech off, sending you with their best wishes and reminding you to comm them when you wanted to be picked up.

Before you left the ship, Hunter pulled you aside. "Something seems off today. It feels like a storm's coming. I hope it doesn't mess up your plans, but... just be careful, and comm us when you want us to come get you."

You tried not to take his warning to heart, you knew he was probably right, but you didn't want to think about anything getting in the way of your plans. With a quick nod and reassuring smile, you left the Marauder with Tech following behind you.

Hunter's warning was only the first of your problems. The second was the cabin itself.

It was a beautiful location, and when you opened the door, it seemed welcoming and comfortable, but perhaps a little too cozy.

Heat flooded your cheeks as you noticed the lack of a second bed, and panic began setting in at the thought of making Tech uncomfortable.

"I swear, I requested two beds! I even double checked when they confirmed it I-"

Tech shrugged. "It must have been a mistake on their part. Or perhaps, they had assumed any couple reserving a place to stay would only want one bed."

"I promise I will fix this, I'm so sorry." You couldn't begin to express your embarrassment. Tech didn't seem to notice, he just walked in and set his bags down before exploring the rest of the cabin.

He turned back to you, "I really do not mind, it is likely a busy time for them. You don't have to apologize."

He offered you a small smile before walking back toward you.

You returned the smile, but you began to feel crushed that your plans had already begun to fall apart.

Tech had never been great at recognizing your emotions, or his own for that matter, but this once he could see that you were genuinely upset. He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close to his chest.

“It is okay, Mesh’la, I promise.”

You sighed against his chest and returned the hug, feeling as though your worries were melting away from you, when you suddenly remembered that you had bought a present for him.

He looked down at you when he heard you gasp, and you grinned and ran to your bag to pull out a box wrapped to near perfection in bright paper.

“What is this?” He asked when you held the box out to him.

“Your present!”

His smile faded, “Present? But I... I did not get anything for you in return.”

“That’s not important, you’re here, and that’s all I wanted. Now open it!” Your last statement, as demanding as it sounded, pulled his smile back as he meticulously fiddled with the paper, trying not to tear it.

You watched on in amusement, incredibly aware that this was likely the first Life Day present he’d ever received, just by the way he was pulling at the paper. When he finally freed the box from its wrapping, he opened it and peered inside briefly before pulling the datapad out.

“Well...?” You asked. “Is it okay?”

He examined the datapad closely, his expression unreadable. You could feel your anxiety slowly starting to return when he finally spoke.

“It will need to be re-programmed to be compatible with my equipment and the Marauder, however, this is a wonderful present. Re-programming it will be no trouble at all.”

You breathed out a sigh, “I’m glad. You’re remarkably difficult to shop for, I hope you know that.”

He smiled slightly, “You did not need to get me anything at all, just to spend this time with you is satisfactory. May I ask what else you have planned?”

“Well, one thing that I always liked to do with my family was to go out and look at the decorations, so maybe while the weather is still nice, we could--” You cut yourself off as you turned toward the window. You could hardly see to the end of the lane through all the snow, whatever it was like when you arrived only a short time ago had done a complete 180. The winds had nearly blown over the trees outside, and the sky seemed to have turned completely white with snow.

“I suppose this means we will stay indoors.” Tech suggested.

The disappointment you had felt when you arrived crept back into your chest. Nearly everything you had planned fell apart. Hunter had warned you that a storm was coming, but you tried not to believe him. You felt Tech’s arm drape around your shoulders, and you leaned into him.

“I’m sorry...” You mumbled, still looking out the window.

“You needn’t apologize, nothing that has happened has been your fault.”

You didn’t say anything back, instead you began to walk away, not wanting to look at the blizzard outside, and not wanting to wait around to see if Tech was disappointed. Before you could leave the room, you felt him grab your hand.

“Wait, please don’t go.”

“I just... I wanted this to be perfect, and now almost everything I planned has fallen through.” You looked down, disappointed. “I’ll just comm Hunter and ask him to pick us up.”

Tech pulled you toward him once more with your back against his chest, resting his head atop yours. “We do not need to leave yet. I am not the best person to speak on this matter, but not every single one of our plans needs to be perfect. You put the effort into making this a good experience, and I for one am just happy to be spending the time with you.” When you didn’t answer him, he turned you to face him, and he gently kissed your forehead. “I assure you; I am perfectly content to just be here right now.”

“Thank you, Tech...” You finally replied. “I’m sorry for getting upset.”

“You have nothing to apologize for” He reminded you once more. “Now, seeing as how we are snowed into this cabin, perhaps we can find a holofilm to watch and we can just relax for now.”

You nodded and nestled into his chest. “That sounds wonderful.”

Tech picked up the datapad he had just received and began finding something to watch as you made yourself comfortable on the bed, still making sure that there would be plenty of room between you. When he finally joined you, he looked at you expectantly, then lifted his arm as an invitation for you to come closer to him.

“Are you sure?” You asked, not wanting to make him uncomfortable.

“Just come here.” He answered with a smile.

You scooted over to him and leaned into his chest, feeling his arm drape over your shoulders again. His warmth and the steadiness of his breath instantly comforted you. The film played, projected at the end of the bed, and before you knew it, you felt yourself drifting off to sleep.

The next morning, you opened your eyes, not even aware you had fallen asleep.

“Happy Life Day.” You heard from beside you. Tech’s goggles were off, and his tone sounded as though he had just woken up as well. His arms were still around you and he kissed you on the forehead again. When you tried to get up, his arms tightened around you.

“Let’s just lie in for a little longer. Perhaps it’s strange, but I am quite comfortable.”

While your trip had started out a little rockier than you anticipated, it had ended perfectly. Without asking, Tech had become almost a beacon of comfort to you, and all you could think about was how much you were looking forward to spending future holidays with him – only this time ensuring you had back-up plans.

#the bad batch #the clone wars #star wars #tbb tech #tech bad batch #tech x reader #tech bad batch x reader #tbb fanfiction #star wars clone wars #star wars fanfiction #x reader fanfiction #tbb fanfic #tbb tech fluff #tech fluff #fic exchange #the bad batch fanfic #the bad batch fanfiction #clone fic gift exchange

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oftenwantedafton · 5 months

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Moody and Gray - William Afton x Female Reader

Chapter 3

Rating - Explicit

No warnings for this chapter

Also available on AO3

You’ve kissed a few guys in your lifetime. Some were certainly better at it than others. You still cringe to think about the awkward first one you’d shared under the bleachers at school during a pep rally. An awkward clash of lips that weren’t parted enough, teeth knocking together, tongue too intrusive and sloppy. Just a total embarrassing disaster.

This first kiss with Afton, though. This is the polar opposite.

He leans into the gesture not just with his mouth, but with his entire body. As if he’s trying to press himself into you, melting and merging. The weight against your lips is just right. His mouth opens and his tongue strokes yours and fuck if that doesn’t have your body aching and throbbing instantly. The muscle moves deftly, just like those elegant fingers of his. Curling, caressing, laving, gifting you the ash taste of his recent cigarette.

You’re actually honest to God lightheaded when he finally draws back to study your features. The amused smirk has returned, but it’s not mocking. He looks like the fucking cat that got the cream. Oh, that bastard. He knows exactly how good he is.

“What if someone walks out here and sees us?” You hate how breathless you are.

William shrugs. “That’s part of the fun. The thrill of being caught. Or would you rather we stop?”

“No,” you reply, a bit hastily. Eager. God you hate being needy.

“So you want me to harass you some more?”

You nod and his mouth covers yours again.

You forget all about being cold. It’s impossible to notice the winter air when you have this furnace shoving against you, when he stokes the fire deep inside of you. You rest your hand along his jaw, let your fingers slide back to thread through the dark hair at the nape of his neck. His mouth wanders to your throat, teeth scraping over the arch and the vampire image flashes in your mind again. You wouldn’t even protest if he bit you right now.

Your employer sighs and takes a step back, releasing his hold on the brick wall behind you. “I think break time is over.”

“Are you joking?” You were just about to let your hands wander over him. I mean, it was only fair, considering he’d gotten to cop a feel already.

“No. I need to get back to work. So do you.”

“You run this place. You can do whatever you want,” you mutter.

“I’m sure we’ll bump into each other again, sooner or later.” He reaches for the door handle and holds it open for you. You start to make your way back inside the building when one of his hands grabs yours and you freeze in your tracks, looking at him. “Maybe sooner rather than later, hmmm?”

You reach for the lapel of his dress coat. This was even riskier than what you’d just done outside. You can hear the muffled sounds of the dining room and the arcade. You lift yourself up on your toes and stretch to kiss him again.

This is bad. You’re already addicted.

***

The rest of your shift passes without incident. You watch your boss ascend the steel staircase leading back to his office and then you find yourself guiding a large group of teenagers to one of the larger table setups. High school kids celebrating after a win for their football team. Great, you definitely won’t be getting any tips. These kids are as broke as your own sorry ass.

Not only that; they stay until close and leave behind a tremendous mess. It’s a good thing the carpet is patterned so wildly because you’re fairly certain there are a large number of dinner remnants now spilled and ground into the fibers. The table is littered with soiled napkins and discarded prize tickets. Someone had stolen a banner with the high school’s team mascot on it and it now sat in a pool of sticky soda. Great.

The lights dim. The stage curtains are closed once again. You bring your sixth stack of dishes to the kitchen. The staff there have already left for the evening. The company frowns upon overtime. The expense and all that. Both dishwashers already full and running, so the plates and cups are going to have to wait until tomorrow. Good luck to the poor bastard scrubbing dried tomato sauce off of those.

You push open the kitchen door and run straight into Mr. Afton.

“Sorry,” you mumble hurriedly. “I’m almost finished. I’m sure you want to go home.” You almost add “to your wife and children.” Almost.

“Not really,” he says quietly. “I’ll help you.”

You shrug, leading him back to the dining room table. You each take a position at opposite ends and start spraying the antibacterial chemical cleanser that’s the food service industry standard. He covers far more ground than you do. You tell yourself it’s because his arms are longer, not because you keep pausing to stare at him.

Back in the kitchen, you’re staring again, watching him fold back his shirt cuffs. You wonder if he has an entire closet of nothing but purple vests and black pants and an entire rack of purple ties. If he wears purple on the evenings and weekends when he’s home as well. Purple pajamas. In bed with the wife. Children gathered around his knees when he’s making breakfast.

You submerge your hands in the soapy water and start scrubbing one of the plates. You were just going to leave them. Now he’s making you feel guilty.

For the longest time there’s nothing but the sounds of splashing and the soft chink of ceramic as the plates line the drying rack. Sometimes your hands bump into each other. Accidentally. Intentionally. You’re not certain which it is. Maybe both.

Back outside, William turns the key in the lock and tugs on the doors to make sure they’re secure. Your cars are nowhere near each other. He arrives to work long before anyone else and parks close by. You’re frequently late and are lucky if you can even find a spot in the same lot, sometimes having to opt for a space at the nearby strip mall.

You think about him driving home in that vintage luxury car. Does his wife kiss his cheek when he gets home? Asks him how his day was? Are the children excited to see him? Why the fuck can’t you stop thinking about this all of a sudden? Why do you even care? A couple of stolen kisses and you’re moping around like a lovesick schoolgirl.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” you say lightly, starting towards your car. You can hear the click of his Oxfords on the pavement behind you. No kiss goodnight then. Well you weren’t going to fucking beg, that’s for damn sure. All that time alone in the restaurant and neither of you had done more than brush hands under the soapy water. You shove your hands into your pockets and walk briskly to your car, a compact that’s more rust than steel at this point.

You turn the key in the ignition. A grinding protest at the cold. You try again. Nothing. A third attempt. No luck.

You see something in your peripheral vision and realize it’s Afton’s car pulling up beside yours.

You tug the keys from the ignition and slam the door as you exit, watching him lean over to unlock the passenger door of his own vehicle.

“My car won’t start,” you say as you pull the door open.

“Get in. I’ll give you a ride.”

***

You live nearby. A fifteen minute drive to the town’s center where your apartment building is.

William makes the trip last longer. Twenty five minutes tonight despite the absence of traffic. As if he really is delaying his return home, prolonging your time together.

“You’re upset.” He shuts the car off after finding a spot in the rear parking lot.

“What?” It’s the first time he’s spoken since he’d offered the ride.

“Something’s bothering you. More than the usual things, Moody.” A gentler smirk this time. Almost affectionate.

“I’m not moody,” you grump. You take a deep breath. “I don’t know anything about you.”

“And yet you’re so certain you have a crush on me. Are willing to stay at a job you despise for my sake.”

“It’s not a crush,” you deny again.

“So what do you call it, then?”

“I don’t like labels. It’s just…it just is.”

He considers that, humming thoughtfully. “What is it you want to know?”

“Why don’t you want to go home?”

He inhales and exhales deeply. “Because there is no one there that cares to see me. The feeling has become mutual over time.”

“Is that why you don’t wear a wedding ring?”

He nods. “It’s evolved into a marriage in name only.”

“So why don’t you get a divorce?”

He shrugs. “Convenience…or…complacency. We’re resigned to it now. It’s become expected. I’m the breadwinner, she raises the children. They are allies. I am someone to be tolerated. Something like that.” He pauses. “Is that what’s bothering you? The idea of being with a married man?”

“Partially.” It had always been a rule of yours not to mess around with married men. Definitely more trouble than it was worth. Yet here you are, considering it.

“What else is bothering you?”

“We were the only ones left at the restaurant. Completely alone. And you didn’t make a move.”

“You want me to chase you? You’re a grown woman. You’re more than capable of asking for what you want.”

“I’m not going to beg.”

“Now see, that’s where you’re wrong.” He leans closer. You can feel his breath warm against your face. The interior of the car has cooled down considerably since he’d switched it off, terminating the warm air draft from the blower. “You want a kiss goodnight, you ask for it.”

You huff in irritation. “Yeah, that’s not how I operate. Two doms don’t make a right.”

“You are insolent, aren’t you?” You thought he’d be pissed at your resistance. Instead he seems almost pleased. He’s enjoying this.

“I prefer the term spicy.”

“You don’t like labels, though.”

“Touché.” Fuck, that little self satisfied smirk was back. “Fine. Kiss me goodnight.”

“Are you asking or telling?”

“Oh for fuck’s sake. Asking. Whatever.”

He leans back. “No.”

You blink, mouth gaping. “What?”

“You’re not being sincere. You’re not really asking. So…no.”

You’re beginning to think maybe there are more reasons than the ones he’s just offered for why he and his wife aren’t intimate anymore.

Well, two can play at this game. He wants to be an ass, he’s going to get it served right back to him. “Okay, well, thanks for the ride. I might not be able to make it into work tomorrow depending on how things go with transportation so, fair warning.” You shove the passenger door open with more force than necessary and exit the car, closing it in the same manner. You start walking towards the apartment building, already hating yourself for wishing you hadn’t walked away, that you had just begged like he wanted. You could be warm against him right now with his tongue in your mouth. Damn it. Your pride condemns you every time.

You hear a car door open and close and footsteps behind you, rapid long strides to close the distance. You whirl around and William’s right there, his arms encircling you, tugging you against him, his head bowing to capture your lips.

Fuck.

The taste of smoke and ash is absent this time. He’s a lot rougher, his teeth nipping at your lips. Such a damn vampire.

“Goodnight,” he says by the corner of your mouth. A kiss on your cheek. He’s starting to get some stubble from the lateness of the hour and it scrapes your skin. “Goodnight.” His lips are at your ear. Your fingers clench the ebony woolen fabric he’s draped in. “Goodnight.” His mouth grazes your throat.

He’s the one breathless and panting this time, and you feel a little satisfaction about that.

“I expect you to be at work tomorrow. On time. No excuses.”

The warmth surrounding you vanishes as he releases you, walking back to his car.

#william afton x reader #william afton x you #william afton #fnaf fanfic

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ellethespaceunicorn · 1 year

Text

Bright Like The Moon: Chapter 8

Chapter 8: I Was So Much Younger Yesterday

Rating: Explicit, 18+, Minors - DNI

Fandom: Night Hunter

Pairing: Walter Marshall x Black!OFC

Word count: 3K

Summary: Kamaria Mansfield is hired at the Minnesota Police Department as an intern. Detective Walter Marshall is overworked and unsatisfied. Takes place post-film.

Chapter Summary: It’s time to celebrate Faye’s 16th birthday. Also, Walter works out a way for Kam to practice expressing her needs.

Chapter warnings: crying, Daddy kink(if you don’t like this, turn back now because damn), slight dumbification kink, oral (f receiving), vaginal fingering, p in v sex, creampie, creampie tasting, the term ‘cumslut’ used lovingly

A/N: New Story Art! *cheering and applause* Now, it’s time to get to serious business. Um, I like Angie. And I wrote her like I see her. Also, this chapter gets quite kinky so heed those warnings, please. Un-beta’d, we die like people who tried their best.

Dividers: @firefly-graphics

Support/Reblog banner by me

Cover Art by me, model for Cover Art credits

Cross-posted on AO3

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Kamaria’s POV

Three Months Later

“...Happy Birthday dear Faye, Happy Birthday to You!”

We all cheer as Faye blows out her sixteen candles. Her parents stand by and film their child celebrating with her friends. Angie starts to cut the cake and gives Walter slices to hand out. They work so well together. You’d never know they went through such a rough separation.

Sweet Faye with her curls and her chubby cheeks, looking for all the world like the baby she was. Her purple cocktail dress matches the flower in her hair that I helped her with.

It was nice to feel like a part of the team, working with Walter and Angie on organizing the party for Faye. But, let’s face it, it was mostly me and Angie doing the planning and Walter nodding along. Angie and I got along well enough, I think she just appreciated that I cared about Faye and that meant more than anything.

Angie says goodbye to the last guests leaving while I finish tidying up Faye’s gift haul. She dozes on the couch curled up on Walter who is snoozing as well. Angie moves a blanket over both of them and comes to help me clear away dishes and any lingering trash.

“I have to thank you for helping out with Faye earlier. She’s in that stage where everything I say is just not ‘cool’ enough,” Angie wipes her hands on a dish towel and looks from Faye’s sleeping form to me, “I remember this time in my life where my little girl valued my opinion above all else. And now it’s like she chooses the exact opposite of what I suggest.”

“Don’t worry. She’ll realize one day that she is so lucky to have a mother who actually wanted her,” I squeeze my eyes closed, deciding to open this old wound, “My mom never wanted to be a mother and she made that abundantly clear by leaving me and my Dad when I was a kid. He was never emotionally available so I had some interesting times in life, to say the least. But, just know that I’m sure she’ll come around. It may be in a year or two, but for now, you have a Daddy’s girl on your hands.” I laugh, trying to lighten the mood.

I don’t notice Angie coming to my side until she puts a reassuring hand on my shoulder. Having a loving mother next to me offering me comfort is suddenly too much to handle and my eyes start to blur from unshed tears. I begin to protest my emotional reaction but then Angie speaks.

“It doesn’t make you weak to cry when you’re upset.”

Her hushed words are like a soothing balm on a decades-old burn. One shaky breath is all I take before the tears are streaming down my face. Angie’s face crumbles as well and she wraps her arms around me. I realize that it has been a long time since I’ve had a “Mom hug” and I cling to that warmth as I quietly weep.

When my sobs turn into sniffles, Angie rubs my back in calming circles. We separate and she cups my cheek in a display of affection. I nod and smile in appreciation before taking a deep breath to collect myself.

Walter and Faye pick this moment to finally wake up. Thank goodness for small favors, they missed my little moment. I wipe my eyes and face quickly before smiling at my boyfriend and his daughter. While Faye is none the wiser, I can see the gears working behind Walter’s eyes. He can always see right through me, but he won’t make his suspicions known until we’re alone. Something I truly love about him, he is not a scene-maker.

I walk over to Faye and give her a big hug before sitting down next to Walter and holding his hand. “How did we do on your big day, sweetheart? I’ll take you falling asleep as you had quite a time.”

“It was perfect. It was everything I wanted. Thanks, Mom and Dad. Thank you, Kam.” The grin never left her sweet face. It is all worth it to see her happiness.

“You’re welcome, love,” Walter cupped Faye’s face and she beamed back at him. Truly a Daddy’s girl.

“Alright, birthday girl. You are welcome to stay up as long as you like. Just for tonight, that is,” Angie walks over to us and kisses the top of Faye’s head before smiling at Walter and me, “I am going to bed. Thank you both for your help today. Goodnight.” She pats my shoulder before heading upstairs.

If Walter notices our non-verbal exchange, he doesn’t mention it.

“Alright, girlfriend. Who was that adorable kid with the curls? He was cute.” I can’t help but make Faye blush and make Walter roll his eyes. It’s like my talent.

“That was Albert. He’s in my English class. He likes Federico García Lorca and Mission: Impossible movies. That’s all I needed to know.”

“Which means he either knows enough to seem intelligent or enough to actually be intelligent,” I smile and yawn before stretching.

“On that note, I think it’s time for us to get home and for you to get to bed.” Walter ends the conversation without adding his two cents about this Albert kid. Faye gets the hint and follows suit.

“Yeah, I’m tired anyway. Thanks again, you guys.” Faye yawns sympathetically.

Walter and I leave after hugs and final birthday wishes. On the car ride back to his place, Walter decides to bring up his worries.

“So, did something happen while Faye and I were out?” He broaches the topic carefully.

“Angie was feeling a bit left out of her daughter’s life. I simply told her that she has a Daddy’s girl on her hands.” I smile at the side of Walter’s face and look back at the road.

Walter surprises me by pulling the car over and turning to face me. “You want to try that again, Princess?” The pet name is enough to put my brain in gear and answer fully.

“I told Angie about how my Mom never wanted me. And then I cried. A lot.” I hated how he was so good at getting me to say what I didn’t want to say. But I had to respect his abilities.

“Why do I always have to work so hard at getting the truth out of you, Princess?” He reaches over to hold my chin between his thumb and forefinger, “You’ll work on that tonight, do you understand?”

“Yes, Daddy. I understand.” Suddenly out of breath, I slip into subspace with ease.

Walter’s POV

I love this woman, I do. But there is nothing harder than getting her to face her emotions. Getting her to tell me when she’s dealing with sadness or anxiety is like pulling teeth. I have literally been in the line of fire before. But getting her to admit when she has cried is harder than any S.W.A.T. mission I have ever been on.

We get back to my place and after her shower, I instruct her to stay undressed. I have her sit on the bed against the headboard. While I undress, I deny her the ability to touch herself. I watch her squirm while I slowly remove my last piece of clothing.

My dick throbs between my legs as I lock eyes with her. She licks her lips and fights the urge to reach out and touch. I settle on her punishment and a little piece of me actually feels sorry for her. This one might wreck her.

“Since it’s so hard for you to be honest about your feelings, we’re going to work on that tonight. You have to express when you have needs. All you have to do is tell me what you need when you need it. You must use your words, Princess. Is that clear?” I cross my arms and look down at her.

“Yes, Daddy.”

“Good girl,” I smile as the praise washes over her, “How do you feel about restraints, baby?”

She shifts on the bed a bit and plays with her hands. “I like being restrained.”

“Good,” I reach into my nightstand and pull out a silk sash before beckoning her to sit at the edge of the bed, “Put your hands together for me, palm to palm,” She does as she’s told and I tie her hands together. “How does that feel? Not too tight?”

“Feels fine,” She scrunches up her nose and looks up at me, “I won’t be able to touch you, though.”

“Yeah. That’s kind of the point, Princess,” I push lightly on her shoulder so she lays down flat and her hands stretch above her head, “Just lie back and let me work. And you tell me when you need more or less, alright?”

She nods and I raise my eyebrows. “Yes, I’ll tell you what I need.”

“Good girl.” I lean down and capture her lips in my own. I poke at the seam of her mouth until she lets me enter. I lick into her mouth, tasting and sucking on her tongue. Moving my kisses to her jaw then to her neck, I suck and bite at her sweet spot until she lets out that precious little moan of hers.

Trailing my tongue across her clavicle, I kiss down her chest and lavish attention on her breasts. These perfect fucking tits I love so much. I kiss both nipples and knead the soft flesh but don’t go any further until I hear a whine. “Use your words, Princess. What do you need?”

“Your tongue…can you suck on my nipples, please?” Her breathing speeds up.

“That’s my good girl.” I swirl my tongue around one nipple while running my thumb over the other. I suck the pebbled peak into my mouth and tease it with my tongue. Suckling at her for a few moments more, I switch to the other side to give just as much attention. I feel her thighs rubbing together in search of friction, so I kiss down her soft belly, stopping to nip at her hips.

Pulling her legs apart, I can finally see my prize. I want to dive right in, but this is an exercise to have Kamaria tell me what she needs so instead I kiss at her inner thighs for far longer than I normally would have to prove a point.

“Daddy, please eat my pussy.” She pleads, moving her hips closer to my face. Such a good girl for me, and I tell her as much before I kiss her mound and then slide my tongue up and down her wet slit.

“Fuck! You taste amazing, Princess.” My hands grip her thighs tight before I begin to lap at her like a man starved. Her sweet nectar is more than enough to satisfy me and I want to drink her in and never look back. Her whimpers only make me work that much harder. Sucking on her clit, I let my tongue dance against the swollen bud and am rewarded with a squeal.

“Need your fingers, please.” Such a polite little thing, isn’t she?

“Yes, baby.” I reward her good manners with two fingers straightaway. She’s soaked and they slide in easily. We both groan and I massage that inner bundle of nerves before returning my attention to her clit. I flick my tongue on her button before working my fingers in and out of her core.

“Just like that, don’t stop!” Her words go straight to my dick and I curve my fingers. Before long, I can feel her channel clamp down on my fingers but I keep working at her as her juices coat my hand.

“Too much, too sensitive!” She cries, her body shaking under me. I lift off her clit and still my fingers before licking them clean and wiping them on the comforter.

“You did so good, Princess,” I kiss up her body and nibble at her neck, “But I’m not done with you yet, baby.” I get up from my spot between her legs and move her to the center of the bed. Maneuvering her on her side, I slide up behind her and lift her leg. I enter her swiftly and we moan in tandem.

I pull back out until just the tip is inside then I slam back in. Gripping her hip, I start a punishing pace inside her walls. The way her cunt squeezes me is like paradise. She was made to take my dick. I was made to claim her pussy.

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck,” All she can utter is a string of curses and I feel triumphant that I fucked language right out of her brain.

“That’s right, Princess. Let this dick fuck you stupid, baby,” No sooner do I finish that sentence do I feel her walls flutter around me, “Oh does my baby like being fucked dumb on Daddy’s dick?” The answering whine tells me all I need to know. Adding ‘dumbification’ to the list of kinks my baby girl has.

Pulling out and moving Kam onto her back, I get to my knees and push her legs open, Entering her again, I reach up and hold her bound hands in one fist. From this angle, I can slam into her and stimulate her clit at the same time.

“Need to…touch you. Please…Daddy?” Her words are punctuated by thrusts, the look of yearning in her eyes.

I pull the knot free on the sash. Her hands immediately go to my hair to tug me down for a kiss. I can taste her desire and hunger for closeness. I growl into her mouth and she whimpers back. Her legs wrap around my waist and pull me in deeper. We pull apart from the kiss and rest our foreheads together.

“Tell me what you need, baby girl.” At this point, I am panting. So close to release. I just need to hear her say she needs it.

“Look at me while you cum inside me, Daddy,” This little brat actually smiles up at me as she shatters me.

“Fuck!” The dam breaks and my hold on reality fucks all the way off. My eyes search hers while I empty my balls into her waiting cunt. I keep stroking inside her and the sensation is heightened once I feel her come around me. She could gonna be the death of me, and I’d love every minute of it.

I lean down and slot our mouths together as I pull out. I swallow her whimper at the feeling of emptiness before I look down to see her thoroughly ruined snatch. My cum still leaks out and I can’t help but feel proud to see her so full. I smile down at her before getting up from the bed.

I clean up a bit in the bathroom before fetching a damp washcloth. Entering the room again, I find Kam lazily playing with herself. “Enjoying yourself, Princess?” I reach down and clean her gently.

“I love how sensitive I am right now. It feels so good.” Her eyes roll back in her head as my hand moves over her folds.

“Do you think you can give me one more orgasm, Princess?” I know I might be pushing it, but seeing her so aroused is making it worth asking.

“Yes, please, Daddy. I wanna cum again for you.”

That was all I needed to hear before I’m between her legs again. I lean down to lap at her slit. Tasting my spend and her juices mixed together is heavenly. Can’t believe I’ve never done this before. By the surprised moans coming from Kam, I’d say she was enjoying this as well.

After making out with her pussy for a while, my fingers find their way inside her tight wet heat. Curving my fingers as I move them in and out, I’m rewarded soon after with a strangled moan and her walls fluttering around my fingers. I wait until the convulsing stops to remove my fingers. A dirty thought enters my head and I run with it.

“Open your mouth, Princess,” As she follows direction, I lock eyes with her as I put my slick-coated fingers in her mouth until they disappear, “Such a good girl for me. Sucking our cum off my fingers like the hungry little cumslut you are.”

She moans around my fingers and if I didn’t literally just cum a liter, I’d be balls-deep in her again. When I remove my fingers from her mouth, she actually whines in protest. I can’t help but kiss that adorable pout before grabbing the washcloth again to wipe away the evidence of her arousal.

I throw the cloth in the hamper and lay down next to my love. I check her wrists to make sure the sash didn’t dig in too deep before kissing her forehead. “How’s my baby feeling?”

“I feel amazing. Spectacular,” She stretches and cuddles into my chest as I wrap an arm around her, “I think that was the best sex I’ve ever had.”

“I’m right there with you. I probably fried a few brain cells but it was so worth it,” I hold her chin and bring her gaze up, “I’m also proud of you for saying what you needed. Now, we just have to get you to do that out of the bedroom.”

“Practice makes perfect, right?” There’s my little brat.

“Cheeky. But not wrong. We’ll work on it together, yeah?” I say, pulling the comforter over both of us as Kam’s eyes start to close, “Love you, Princess.”

“Mhm,” Her short answer lets me know that she is absolutely fucked out and I’m chuffed, “Love you, Daddy.”

Her fingers work their way through my chest hair, something I’ve noticed as a comfort activity for her. If I was a cat, I’d be purring every time she does it. But if she ever found out how much I liked it, she’d probably use it against me somehow. Little minx.

I listen as her breathing evens out and I’m not far behind. I can safely say today was a good day. Nothing can ruin this feeling.

Can it?

Chapter 9

A/N: Ehehehe, that ending sounded menacing at all, did it…? Well, anyway. This chapter’s song was “Starving” by Hailee Steinfeld & Grey. “Starving” is about a relationship that’s getting more adventurous in and outside of the bedroom. I really enjoy writing in Walter’s POV, especially the kinky stuff. Hopefully, you enjoyed it too.

**Tag List**

@brattymum96 @ambinxe @avengersfan25 @kebabgirl67

@enchantedbytomandhenry @astheskycries

@deandoesthingstome @liveoncoffeeandflowersss @foxyjwls007 @rosiesluv7 @livisss @slut4henrycavilll

Let me know if you wanna be added (or removed) 😁

#walter marshall #walter marshall fanfic #walter marshall x black!plus size female #walter marshall x black!plus size female oc #walter marshall x ofc #walter marshall x black!ofc #ellethespaceunicorn fanfic #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill #walter marshall fanfiction #walter marshall fic #night hunter #night hunter fanfic #night hunter fanfiction #bright like the moon

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solange-lol · 1 year

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solangelo fic awards 2023 nominations masterpost

i want to thank y'all for being super paitent w me as im positng this a few days after i said i would, which is entirely due to the insane turnout this year. there was over 200 fics submitted, (not including series) with over 110+ of those being included in the nominations! very excited for y'all to get this massive reclist and have a chance to read some amazing fics!

click here to vote!

unfortunately because of the absolute Bulk of the solangelo awards post this year, i have to link all the categories besides aoty in separate posts :,) i understand how chaotic this is, so please use the fic masterlist to your connivance! all the posts are linked below!

best angst noms

best au noms

best canon compliant noms

best chaptered (finished) noms

best chaptered (unfinished) noms

best fluff noms

best misc noms

best gift noms

best series noms

link to fic masterdoc

and our author of the year nominations are as follows!

gatesofember (ao3) (tumblr)

ghosttotheparty (ao3) (tumblr)

gnatashameow (ao3) (tumblr)

ikeasharksss (ao3) (tumblr)

pinkerpick (ao3) (tumblr)

rainnows (ao3) (tumblr)

the_oncoming_stormageddon (ao3) (tumblr)

yrbeecharmer (ao3) (tumblr)

please notify me of any inconveniences from the links, if you believe a fic has been placed in the wrong category, or if your desired fic does not show up in the poll.

voting guidelines:

voting will close on february 13th so that the winners post can be released on the 14th for valentines day! (for realsies this time i promise it doesnt take me as long as nominations lol)

if your work didnt make it in, there is most likely a reason! you are welcome to message me about it if you wish though and i cant check as to why

if your fic was nominated and counted but is missing on one of the docs, whether its here or the poll or the masterlist, please let me know!! i have missed things and had no idea, its ok! please dont be afraid to let me know i've made a mistake!

same goes for if something shows up twice, fic has already won, links are broken, etc etc!

if one of your works has been submitted, you can promote/mention this to your followers, please just no bribing or blackmail or anything like that i promise its not that deep

also no blackmailing other contestants, you all deserve a chance

there is no prize to this contest besides (i guess??) satisfaction, so dont get too worked up over it!

you aren’t required to vote if you have been nominated, though it is heavily recommended

you also aren’t required to vote in all categories anymore due to popular request, although we heavily advise that you do in order to keep voter count even

if you have been nominated, you are allowed to vote for yourself. just please also be considerate to others and vote for each category!

the google poll will ask for you to sign in just to ensure that you are only voting once. no emails are being collected! that being said, if you are more comfortable voting through ask/message/etc, feel free!

there is a few questions at the end of the poll, although none of them are required so you’re welcome to skip them if you’d like!

this is all just friendly competition, so everyone have fun! be sure to show the writers some love!!! <3

in the case that you see someone disrespecting the guidelines, feel free to let me know and i can handle it from there! :)

if you have any questions, feel free to shoot me an ask! any and all posts relating to this will be tagged with “lizs solangelo fic awards.”

as i do every year, but especially this year bc they really were an insane help, thank u @buoyantsaturn for helping!! <3

good luck to all! thank you for your patience!!!

#reblog when u vote for an i voted sticker in ur inbox <33 #this won on the poll soooo this is what were goin with #solangelo #nico di angelo #will solace #lizs solangelo fic awards

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supersantafemslash · 1 year

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If you’re willing to pinch hit, please let me know!

With just a week until the deadline, right about now is when most drop-outs occur. Thankfully we never have many, but if you’re interested in pinch hitting just send over an ask (that way it’s easier to keep track) with your ao3 handle and what ships you’re willing to fill for. If you’re not sure what ships are in the exchange, there is a list in this post you can reference! If you’d also like to include topics you don’t want to write about, feel free to include those too. If you’re comfortable sending your email address to make it easier to get the prompts to you, that would be appreciated as well!

If you’ve signed up for the exchange and put yes or maybe down for pinch hitting you can still send in an ask, but you don’t have to! I’ll reach out to those who contact me here first and possibly before the deadline, but if additional pinch hitters are needed once the deadline has passed I’ll use the sign up information to reach out to make sure all prompts are covered.

Thank you to everyone in advance, and I can’t wait to see all the amazing gifts this year!

#supergirl #supergirl secret santa #supercat #the directorship #director danvers #dansen #general danvers #superdreamer

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jossambird · 3 years

Text

The scent on your coat P6

Summary: Sometimes, we must give up the things we love the most to make them happy.

Otto Octavius x F!Reader

Word Count: 1.9k

Warning: NS/FW, Weddings, Peter being a little shit (but a good little conniving shit 👀), 💝🍆

AO3 LINK

Today was the day. Today, you would no longer be Y/N Y/LN, you would be Y/N Parker now. It didn’t have a terrible ring to it… Your mind couldn’t help but compare it to another name, another name that you had so tirelessly tried to erase from your mind for the sake of your Husband-to-be, a name that always found itself tumbling from your lips mid orgasm.

“Are you alright sweetie?” Aunt May asked you, watching as you stepped into your wedding dress, Allie rushing to help you. You weren’t alright, but you had to be, had to be for Peter. He had given you so much, laid his heart bare and loved you endlessly, the least you could do was happily marry him.

“Yes Aunt May, I am.” You smiled back at her, Allie’s worried expression coming into view. She remained quiet, helping you slowly and zipping your dress, smiling despite everything as she looked at you.

“You're absolutely beautiful Y/N.” Your best friend spoke, emotional eyes meeting yours. Here Allie stood in the stead of your parents, neither interested in the life you had made for yourself but you didn’t care, leaning forward to rest your forehead against her shoulder.

“Thank you Allie. For everything” You answered her, allowing her and Aunt May to prepare you, one set of hands getting your hair done and the other on your makeup.

The silence left you feeling anxious, mind running as you imagined how it would go, imagined how your first night would be like, imagined moaning out Otto’s name-

A soft knock sounded through the room, making the three of you turn towards the door. Aunt May wasted no time, hurrying to the door as Allie continued her work, makeup brush in hand and eyes nearly crossed as she finished applying your eyeshadow.

“You look amazing.” She tenderly whispered, green eyes far too expressive for her own good. You smiled and reached for her lifted elbow, squeezing lightly in a loving gesture.

“She does.” Replied a voice, startling the both of you, heads snapping in its owner's direction.

There, stood sweet Peter Parker, tuxedo and all, smiling softly at you, blue eyes taking in every detail as if mesmerized.

Gasps erupted out of you and Allie, your best friend’s hands already reaching for a jacket to hide your form.

“PETER, FUCK OFF! Oh my god, it's bad luck to see the bride before the ceremony!” She cried out, always having your best interest at heart. The soft laughter that left the man caused the both of you to freeze, eyes turning to him.

Resignation flowed off of Peter, but so too did an air of acceptance, eyes only filled with love and compassion as he stared back at you, taking you in.

“It's a good thing that there won't be a wedding. Atleast, not today.” He spoke, words hanging in the air for a moment as you and Allie processed his words. She blinked, looking between the both of you, taking in your equally surprised face and understood something, eyes going back to Peter.

“Peter, would you like for me to step outside?” Allie asked, makeup brush and all already being deposited onto the desk. You panicked, hands reaching for her own, trying to keep her close, needing her to keep your head above water.

“Y/N, babe, you are okay, you're alright okay?” Allie whispered, leaning forward until her forehead touched your own, hands gripping yours in reassurance.

“Can you do this?” She asked, and you knew that if you truly asked it of her, she would stay, stay beside you, stay and keep you from wanting to drown yourself in the dark waters.

But if she stayed, you would never get over this, never be ready, never face it yourself. And so, decided, you nodded, shaking hands squeezing her own before letting go, watching her step out of the room.

It felt like forever before you looked back at Peter, his patience and kindness making your heart break.

“I'm sorry-“ You started, eyes beginning to water, knowing he deserved someone better, someone faithful, someone good. Your Fiancé wasted no time in moving forward and pulling you into his arms, holding you close as you sobbed on his shoulder. His black tuxedo thankfully didn’t stain but you feared not for that.

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” Peter spoke, words barely over a whisper, hands holding your face softly. Thumbs rubbed your tears away and you hated not being able to love him back.

“Peter- I do have things to be sorry for…” You tried again, interrupted once more by his fingers against your lips, watching a spark of teasing in his eyes as he looked away cheekily.

“I know what you mean Y/N, I know. It's okay, I'm not angry at you, in any way.” He whispered out, eyes looking away from you, and it was only now that you noticed the appearance of his skin.

“Peter, oh my god, what happened to you?!” You let out louder than you’d intended, pushing away his hand to hold his face between your own, eyes roving over every patch of skin you could see. Bruises and cuts marred his skin, lip busted but healing, purple staining his under eyes. He only smiled, rough hands reaching for your own and holding them against his cheeks, leaning completely in your touch, eyes shut. Always had he been vulnerable under your touch, quieting the moment you would hug him or hold him close.

“Y/N… I know you still love him, I can see the pain in your eyes…” Sweet Peter Parker whispered into the silence around you, blue eyes opening to look at you.

“I'm sorry Peter.” Was all you could reply, not able to lie to the man who had so fiercely loved you for this past year, who had helped you pick up the pieces of your broken heart. No matter how you could repay him, nothing would never be enough for the sheer amount of love and support he had given you.

“Don't be, I know how the heart works. I just want you to be happy, and I know you could be happier.” Parker turned his head, mumbling into your opened palm.

“I don't regret any of it, any of our time together.” He continued, soft blue eyes meeting yours once more, taking in your beauty. You finally smiled, a small tilt of the lips but still a smile, watching him back.

“I could never regret our time together, you have been nothing but amazing Peter.” You replied and leaned forward, lips pressed against his cheek in a soft kiss. He chuckled, eyebrows raising and mouth opening for a moment before a loud noise sounded out behind the door with a curse, making the both of you jump.

“Spiderman my ass, more like Chicken Man.” You piped up after a second, watching the emotions course through Peter’s mind before he barked out a laugh, holding you close in a hug.

“Please, Missus Chicken, save that for another day! For now, I require one last thing from you…” Peter asked, smiling widely.

“If this is some elaborate plan for a ‘Breakup Blowjob’, I am going to call your aunt in.” You whispered in fake suspicion, allowing a smile to grace your lips again at the sound of his laughter.

“No, definitely not!” Peter grinned, detaching himself from your hold and taking your hand, fingers reaching for the ring he had given you.

“You have been my world and my sun, so please, for once, let me gift you with something.” Peter whispered as he softly took your ring off and pocketed it, smiling as he motioned for you to wait a moment, leaving the room entirely, the door closing behind him.

Your hands wrung together while you waited, mind running, trying to guess what Peter had prepared for you. Your vicious mind tried to not imagine Peter barging back in with a Bugle photographer, taking pictures of you and labeling them “Doctor Octopus Fucker! Leaves Fiancé for villain!”.

The door handle turned slowly, your heart beating erratically out of your chest as Peter’s head poked back inside.

“Ready?” He smiled, waiting for your nod before stepping inside and looking back into the hall, nodding his head towards whatever was outside.

The sight nearly had you falling to the ground, eyes glued on Otto Octavius as he entered the room, blindfold tightly wrapped over his eyes and hands bound before him. Peter noticed your silence, a single finger held firmly to his lips. He quickly moved towards the windows and drew all the silken dark curtains closed.

“Alright, we're here Dr Octavius.” Peter spoke out loud towards the man, tentacles firmly planted into the ground around him. “Are you sure your ready for this?” Peter asked him, simply receiving a slow nod in response.

“I'm going to step out now.” Peter said before approaching you, hands reaching for you softly and holding you in a hug, lips close to your ear.

“You decide what you want to do with this gift Y/N. I want you to be happy, and if getting a black eye meant you would be happy, it was a small price to pay.” He whispered and winked, stepping out of the room entirely, lock clicking behind him.

You remained frozen on the spot where you stood, eyes running over the man’s tall form. God, he looked amazing, leather coat and all, your gaze now taking all of him in. You hadn’t had much time last time you had seen him, the darkness of the lab hiding everything from your seeking eyes.

Bizarrely, he also remained frozen there, hands bound and eyes hidden, chest rising and falling quickly. You took a step forward, the sound of the floorboards creaking under you making the man tilt his head towards you, inhaling quickly as you took another.

Another step, and another, and before long, you stood before him, his decadent scent reaching you, heartbeat quickening as you watched him breathe harder. It was intoxicating to watch the man before you stay silent, intoxicating to watch him allow you to step forward, absolutely intoxicating to have him before you like this and watch his composure crack but waiting for you to speak.

“Otto.” You finally decided to put him out of his misery, watching as he finally exhaled in relief and nodded, hands clenching together but never moving to rip apart his bonds, never moving to touch you.

“Y/N.” He whispered with a breath, speaking your name as if he weren’t allowed, scared someone would hear him. You smiled, eyes moving towards his hands.

“What is going on here, Otto? Why are you bound and blindfolded?”

“Y-You decide what you want to do with me.” He replied, his face heating as you remained silent after a moment. His blatant submission caused a swirling heat to run wild inside you, leaving you breathless as he simply stood there, waiting.

“Otto… Did Peter-“ Oh god, had Peter dragged the man here and bound him, telling the man to do whatever you wanted, as in a threat? It didn't sound like Peter at all, but you drew a blank as you tried to make sense of all this.

“Did Peter tell you what today was?” You continued, hands finally reaching out and grazing his own hands, loving the way he hurriedly held onto yours.

“Your Wedding day. Peter-“ he paused, trying to find his words, nervousness causing his throat to close up.

“He said I could spend one last time with you, before you married him.” Otto Octavius mumbled, hands holding yours like a lifeline.

#Next part 👀👀👀#I CANT WAIT #otto octavius x reader #doc ock x reader #otto octavius #doc ock #doctor octavius #doctor octopus #jossambird fic #the scent on your coat fic #minors dni #minor dni

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brightdrawings · 2 years

Text

The Not-so-Perfect Date

Kevin Griffith decided to to put together a perfect date for his boyfriend Stanley. So after a month of planning and saving he's ready to have the best day ever. what could possibly go wrong? (Quite a bit it turns out)

(Also on ao3!)

my Secret Santa gift for @jackyjackdraws. He wanted something involving one of the cutest ships, Kevin (his OC) with Stan. And who am I to deny such a good request?

---------

Kevin grinned to himself as he made the last turn to arrive at Gravity Falls Lake. In the boot of the car sat a pair of tackle boxes as well as some fishing rods with plenty of fishing line. With his destination in sight Kevin felt his heart lift; A whole month of planning had led to this and it was going to be the best date ever. To his right Stanley sat with a white knuckle grip on the door handle. He wore a black blind fold over his eyes at Kevin’s insistence to not ruin the surprise.

“What’s the matter, Stanley? You get that nervous when someone else is behind the wheel?” Kevin teased. He poked the man with his elbow.

“No, but the last time I was blindfolded in a car was when the cartel was getting rid of me.” Stan said sarcastically.

“I-uh.” Kevin froze. He stared out the windscreen of the car. ‘ Shit, I forgot…. C’mon, Kevin, you can recover from this.’

“‘Course I chewed my way out of the trunk and snuck my way back to the states.” Stan smirked as the vehicle came to a stop. “Hope your picnic-plan tastes better than wherever they make car seats out of.”

“I can guarantee that.” Kevin said. He let out a small sigh of relief, his shoulders felt much less tense as he stepped out of the driver’s seat.

“Can I take this off, or is the surprise that you’re taking me on a literal blind date?” Stan smirked, blindly reaching for Kevin’s hand before stepping out of the car.

“Good to see your humor never left lad. And no, not yet.” Kevin said. He pinched Stan’s cheek lightly before heading to the boot of the car to gather their gear. He handed the tackle box to Stan so that his hands were free to carry the cooler.

“This better be worth it.” Stan pouted. He took the tackle box without question and leaned against Kevin.

“Trust me, it will be.” Kevin grinned. He wrapped an arm around Stan’s shoulder and led him down the pier of Gravity Falls Lake.

The lake itself wasn’t the largest; in fact Kevin could recall Stan saying it looked like a puddle next to the oceanside he grew up with. Despite this, the locals seemed happy the water was cool, the fish plentiful and the lake itself was wide enough that you could take your little rental boat to a far bank and not be disturbed by anyone else. Which just so happened to be Kevin’s plan.

He left Stan for a moment to place the gear in the middle of the rental motorboat. He stepped back to make sure nothing would fall over the side before removing Stan’s blindfold.

“We’re here.” He sing-songed.

“Either you drove us half way through the Mojave or I’m gonna need a sec to see properly.” Stan said, blinking repeatedly.

“Do you want your glasses?” Kevin asked helpfully.

“Nope, nope I got this.” Stan rubbed his eyes before squinting towards the boat.

“Well, what do you think?” Kevin asked after a beat.

“I think you just made my day. Holy shit!” Stan said , surprisingly calm for a man who was seeing everything he ever wanted right in front of him, but his huge smile assured Kevin of his enthusiasm. “How’d you know?”

“You weren’t exactly subtle.” Kevin smirked. He stepped into the boat. “What with all the fish based attractions you’ve been making. And the way you’d stare longingly at the tourists who pulled up in those fishing hats with their fishing poles.”

“Hey! Those attractions were perfect and you know it.”

“Right.” Kevin rolled his eyes.

“Looks like you’re the one with the cheek here.” Stan stuck out his tongue.

“If you’re going to spend all day standing on the pier we’ll miss out on the best fishing spots.” Kevin said. He waved a folded up map of the lake.

“Oh you’re planning more, aren’t you.” Stan said. He stepped into the boat, his smile growing wider as it shook under his step.

“I won’t tell.”

While Stan looked through the tackle box Kevin revved up the engine. There were a pair of oars on the floor of the boat, but to get to some of the best spots that Kevin heard of, they’d need the motor. It wasn’t a long trip. Paying extra for the stronger motor might have hurt his wallet but Stan wore the same excited face a puppy did when it stuck its head out of a car window, so in Kevin’s eyes this was well worth it.

The motor quieted down as Kevin turned to look at their surroundings.

“Don’t know what you’re looking for Kev, we’re in the middle of the lake. Nothing but water for… eh, I wouldn't say miles, but y’know.” Stan shrugged. He reached for the cooler and pulled out a cold drink.

“Real funny lad.” Kevin spread the map across his lap. He read carefully, looking at the many scribbles that were made all over the page. He turned his hands trying to find the right direction to read it.

“Did my brother write that?” Stan asked from across the boat.

“I was in a hurry when writing these notes.” Kevin said. He held it up to the sun, hoping some light going through the paper might reveal the secrets of the best place to go fishing. Only for a bird dropping to fall from the sky with an audible SPLAT right in the middle of the page.

“Ew! What the fuck?” Kevin threw the map aside. He checked his fingers for any dirt from the bird dropping. He sighed happily when he found himself clean. All the while Stan filled the air with full bellied laughter.

“Someone’s having the time of his life right now.” Kevin said.

“A live comedy performance with cold drinks to boot? This is the best day off I’ve had in years.” Stan slapped his knee.

“Could you help me find the map, Mr. Giggle.” Kevin looked around himself in the boat. “I know I dropped it around here somewhere.”

“I can help. But I don’t think you want it.” Stan nodded to the water on Kevin’s left.

Kevin turned in dismay to see his map slowly sink in the water. The carefully written plans stain the page in the water.

“I spent all week working on those.”

“Hey hey, don’t sweat it.” Stan reached over and patted Kevin’s shoulder. “Let me show you how we found the best fish in Jersey.”

Kevin watched as Stan withdrew a sandwich from the cooler. He tore off one of the crusts from the bread and threw it into the water. The crust sat on the water’s surface before quickly getting soggy beyond recovery. Kevin opened his mouth to ask what Stan was planning before being hushed by the conman. He pointed to the crust in the water. The water’s surface bagan to ripple as a couple of small fish swam to the crust and began to bite it.

“It’s just like fishing, but you make ‘em lead you to the big fish.” Stan said.

“That’s pretty clever.” Kevin said.

He turned to see Stan wearing a prideful grin.

“Looking at where these suckers are headed I’d say we’re close enough to start the fun.”

With that Stan reached for his fishing pole and gave it a strong swing. Kevin watched as the hook sailed through the air, landing with a quiet ‘plop’ in the water a few feet away. Kevin did the same, aiming his hook away from Stan’s to avoid tangling their lines.

“Whoever catches the most fish gets to sit out of chores tonight.” Stan said. With that, the pair sat together, enjoying the warming sun as they waited for the fish to come swimming in.

“Stanley, you’re more used to fishing, right?” Kevin asked after thirty minutes had passed.

“Yep, spent a lot of afternoons fishing with my family before dinner by the docks.” Stan recalled, smiling fondly at the memory.

“And did the fish normally take this long to start biting?”

“You’d have to ask the sailors that I took the fish from that.” Stan smirked. “I just cooked them up.”

“I was afraid you’d say something like that.” Kevin began to reel in his hook.

“Giving up already, Kev?” Stan smugly leaned back into the seat of the boat.

“Just checking something.” Kevin said. He had the tackle box open next to him.

“Finding a sharper hook won’t help.”

“It’s not the hook I'm worried about. It’s the lack of bait.” Kevin pulled his hook from the water. The bare metal shone in the sunlight.

“That’s just your lack of experience.” Stan shook his head.

“I don’t remember you attaching anything to your hook either Mister.” Kevin shot back.

“You’re imagining things.”

“Want to bet on it?”

“What are you offering?” Stanley raised an eyebrow.

“Double or nothing. If you catch something before I do then I’ll do chores for the whole week. If I win, you have to take care of that on top of your tours.” Kevin said. He offered his hand to stan.

“Oh, now that’s cruel.” Stan tapped his chin. “I like it. You’re on.”

The pair shook and the deal was made. Kevin searched through the tackle box looking for the largest, most wriggly worm he could find before tying it to his hook and giving it the strongest flick he could.

While sitting on the boat, Stan reached for the radio that Kevin had packed on to the boat. Turning the dial he flicked through multiple channels until he could find the one with the swingiest music he could find before laying it between him and Kevin on the boat. Kevin sighed and enjoyed the breeze, assured in his victory. He turned to look at Stan, expecting to see him sweating bullets, only to find him dancing along to the music in his seat, uncaring of his obvious defeat.

There was a few minutes of calm, the boat floating gently in the placid lake water. Soon the swinging tune faded to silence and was replaced by the starting chords of a high tempo rock song.

‘This is something they’d play during a police car chase in a movie.’ Kevin thought.

He was about to joke about Stan being used to hearing music like this when he felt a tug on his line.

“I told you I’d win.” Kevin said triumphantly. He started to reel his line.

“You’ll have to pull it before me, Love.” Stan smirked. Kevin turned to see Stan fighting to keep his fishing pole from getting pulled into the lake.

At first Kevin was confident that his fish would be easier to pull to the boat, his line was already halfway back to the boat. Then all of a sudden Kevin felt a tug that almost pulled him out of the boat. Righting himself he pulled back, trying to win against his fish.

Beside him Stan had a very similar struggle, his own fishing pole tugging with much more ferocity than before.

While the pair were distracted with their competition, they didn’t realize their little boat was moving.

“This has gotta be the biggest fish in the lake.” Stan grunted. His fishing pole was bent in half with the reel still unravelling.

“If that’s the biggest fish in the lake,” Kevin bit his lip. “Then I’ve caught the biggest in the world.”

“In your dr-What’s going on with the boat?” Stan looked away from his fishing pole for a moment and noticed that the two of them were hurtling straight for the far bank of the lake.

“I wasn’t kidding when I said I caught the biggest fish in the world!” Kevin cried.

He jammed his fishing pole into the oar holster. His aching hands reached for the motor. He gave the draw string a desperate tug. Then another, but the Engine wouldn’t start. The pair were nearing some shark rocks that stood near the as Kevin continued to desperately bring the engine to life.

“Any time would be good, Kev!” Stan yelled. The speed the boat was being dragged had water splashing in his face.

“I’ve almost got it!” Kevin gave the drawstring one last powerful pull. Instead of Standing triumphantly, he stumbled forward into Stanley. The draw string broken in his hand.

Kevin felt Stanley wrap his arms around him as the pair braced for impact with the rocks. Just as they neared they suddenly felt weightless. As though flying through the air. Fearfully opening his eyes Kevin caught sight of the rocks passing under the boat as it sailed through the air. Kevin shut his eyes once again as the shore-line grew closer.

------------

Kevin blinked himself awake and looked around. He felt like he had been bit by a logging truck. Moving an aching hand to his face he brushed off some sand out of his beard. He looked around, hoping that the throbbing pain in his leg was just a bruise. To his left he found Stanley slumped over. Fear struck through Kevin like a cold bolt of lightning, he jumped to his feet and ran over to Stanley’s side.

“Stan! Stan! Are you okay?” Kevin knelt next to his boyfriend. He wasn’t moving.

Kevin scolded himself not to panic, despite the growing doom in his stomach. He reached for Stan’s neck. Gently, ever so delicately he placed two fingers under Stan’s jaw. It took a moment to find the correct place, but a wave of calm washed over Kevin as he felt a pulse against his fingers.

Satisfied that Stan wasn’t in mortal peril, Kevin looked over Stan’s body for any wounds.

“Kevin?” Stan’s gruff voice was tired.

“M’ere, Love.” Kevin said. He held Stan’s hand in his own.

“Did you get the plates on that truck that hit us?” Stan asked. He pulled himself up to a seated position.

“No. I was too busy praying that we didn’t get skewered by those rocks.” Kevin said.

“How did that work out?”

“Well we’re alive.”

“That’s a great start. What about our boat?” Stan asked.

“I haven’t checked that yet. I saw you on the ground and ran over.” Kevin said.

“Aw, look at you. You little love sick kid.” Stan chuckled. “Oof. Hurts to laugh.” He clutched his side.

“You stay here, I'll go check the boat.” Kevin said.

“I’ll be here.” Stan said. “If you find any drinks I call the first pitt-cola.”

“I’ll save you one.” Kevin promised before doing a quick lap of the beach. The pain in his leg had died down significantly. That however was replaced by a pain in his heart as he found the motor on the boat shattered on the shore. The propeller stuck out in the sand. Many other scraps of metal lay out across the beach.

While pushing the thought of the unhappy conversation he’d be having with the lake ranger out of his mind Kevin made his way further along the beach. Eventually he found the boat. It had flipped over in its landing. That was probably how Kevin and Stan were thrown out. One of the oars, both fishing rods, the tackle box and the cooler were missing. Apart from that, and the destroyed motor, the boat still seemed sea-worthy. Or Lake worthy.

Taking a moment to lean against the boat, Kevin took a deep breath. This date had not gone at all how he had intended. He had wanted to catch some fish and then cook them with his boyfriend. However it seemed that fate had other plans for the two of them. Kevin watched the clouds in the blue sky above for a few moments. There was still plenty of time left to get the pair of them back to shore and bring this date back from the brink of disaster.

“Oh who am I kidding this is already a disaster.” Kevin sighed.

“Who’re you talking to, Slick?” Stan said, limping over to Kevin.

“No one.” Kevin replied.

“No one, eh?” Stan joined Kevin in leaning against the boat.

“Is your leg okay?”

“Eh, I‘ve had worse.” Stan shrugged. “Give it some ice and a day or two to relax and I’ll be running faster than the next line of suckers on their way to the shack.”

There was a beat as the pair stood under the shade of a tree. Letting the cool breeze blow over them. It was a good few minutes before Kevin broke the silence.

“I’m sorry for such a terrible date.” Kevin stared at his shoes. Too ashamed to face Stan.

“What? C’mon, Kev, it wasn’t that bad.” Stan placed a hand on his shoulder.

“It was a complete catastrophe.” Kevin turned away.

“Kevin, you made a bad joke and lost a bet. You couldn’t have known whatever the fuck just happened woulda happened.”

“I could have cut the line.” Kevin said in a quiet voice. “ I could have cut the line but I-”

“Cut the shit.” Stan said. “I coulda cut the line, too. We didn’t know that some freak from the deep was taking us on a joy ride. Don’t blame yourself for something you didn’t plan for.”

“But now my plans for a perfect date are ruined. I wanted to surprise you with a fun fishing day, but now that’s out of the question.” Kevin sniffled. “Because of me you got hurt.”

“Hey, hey. It’s okay Kevin, it's alright.” Stan wrapped his arms around Kevin. “I’ve got you. I’m okay. A little bruised up but I'm still good, Kev. I’m still good.”

Kevin wrapped his arms around Stan, digging his fingers into Stan’s shirt. He took a few heavy breaths. The pair sat in the sand, Stan rubbing calming circles into Kevin’s back while the other tried to compose himself. After several minutes, Kevin felt well enough to pull back from the warm hug.

“Thank you for that.” Kevin said, wiping away his tears.

Stanley placed his hands on Kevin’s cheeks and tilted his head up before placing a kiss on Kevin’s lips. “Any time. Darling. Any time.”

“Now what are we going to do about this?” Kevin nodded to the boat.

“We could try cooking some fish out here?” Stan offered.

“Our rods are missing and I’m pretty sure most of the worms I brought are currently digging out a new home beneath us.”

“What about that steak place just out of town that you like?”

“How would we get there? The boat’s a mess.” Kevin nodded to the motor pieces that littered the shore.

“It’ll be a walk back to the car.” Stan nodded. “But after that fall I’m not in the mood to row back.”

“But we still have to return the boat.”

“Listen, we just survived a near death experience. If the lake ranger is going to give us shit about that bath toy he can come out and get it himself.” Stan stood up and punched his palm. “Now C’mon. My leg’s still complaining and I need my reliable boyfriend to help walk me back to the car.” He offered Kevin his hand.

“We’re going to get into so much trouble aren’t we.” Kevin shook his head. He grabbed a hold of Stan’s hand and pulled himself up.

“If he gives you trouble I’ll teach him to leave you alone.” Stan leaned against Kevin.

“Going to give him one of your patented left hooks?” Kevin bumped Stan’s hip.

“Only if he starts talking about fees.” Stan said.

“Of course.” Kevin grinned.

He gave Stan a kiss on the lips and rested his head on Stan’s shoulder.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

#gravity falls #stanley pines #stan pines #Writers of TUmblr #Fanfiction #Gravity Falls Fanfiction #OC x Canon #OC x Stan Pines #Grunkle Stan #My writing

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foilfreak · 3 years

Text

Beauty and Her Beast: Summary and Ch.1

A Salvatore Moreau x Female!FishMutant!oc fic based on this idea I had the other day that a very specific subset of the fanfom went absolutely apeshit for, which I'm here for and decided to act on. I can't make any promises for consistent uploading or even a finishes product by the end of this, but so long as im still interested in working on it, I'll keep working on it, and if im not, then I wont, plain and simple. Anyways, here's the summary and chapter 1, please let me know what you think of the story so far, i hope you all enjoy (you'd better all enjoy), and I can't wait to see you all again for chapter 2. Bye! <333 (Link to ao3 posting will be in comments so check there if you want to read it there instead)

Warning: This fic is rated NSFW and contains graphic depictions of things some people may find disturbing or alarming, including, but not limited to: violence, gore, unhealthy family relationships, Oedipus complexes, gratuitous amount of pornographic literature, ableist language, physical, mental, and emotional abuse, etc. If you are someone who does not enjoy fiction with these elements in them, then I suggest you refrain from reading this, because this fic will have all that, and probably a lot more. So, this is your first and final warning to turn around and go somewhere else if stuff like this just isn't your vibe, because from this point forward, your emotional wellbeing is in your own hands, and I will not be accepting blame if you disregarded my warnings and ended up reading something you didn't like. Idk why I feel compelled to write one of these despite this being Resident Evil fanfic, but I figured I'd cover my ass just in case.

Summary:

Now, I’m sure everyone already knows the ancient tales that tell of a beautiful young woman slowly falling in love with a horrific monstrosity of a man. The pure and true love this innocent beauty comes to feel for him, despite his terrifying appearance, is the key that breaks the cruel and twisted curse under which he’d been kept prisoner. This allows the man behind the monster to not only return to his true human form, but then go on to live his Happily Ever After with the beauty who saved him. Everyone already knows of these tales, as well as the messages behind them, however that is not quite the way this particular tale plays out.

The tale I am about to tell bears many similarities to the one above, however there are also quite a few important differences. For while the original detailed a beauty falling for a monster because of the kind and loving man he was behind his hideous exterior, this is a tale of a beauty, with a few monstrous qualities of her own, falling in love with a kind and loving monster, not at all despite his grotesque appearance, but rather, in part, because of it.

This is a tale, where the Beast still falls for his Beauty first, but the Beauty is the one who will be pursuing her Beast.

Chapter 1: Mother's Gift

Few of those who lived isolated from the outer world, high up in the mountains of Romania, would expect anyone of reasonable sanity to be out traveling in this hellish sort of weather. The wind howling a demonic high pitched tune; snow, sleet, and hail pounding into the ground like an endless shower of bullets from the heavens; and hungry lycans still roaming the area, tirelessly looking for their next meal, would be enough to incentivize even the strongest of mortal men to seek shelter away from the deadly conditions of the outside.

A man by the name of Salvatore Moreau however, one of the 4 lords of this mountain region who lived in the reservoir just past the windmills, did not appear terribly concerned with what other people thought of the traveling conditions. Completely unbothered by the horrifying weather and threat of suddenly being ground into doggy food, the hooded man trudged his way through the dark and barely maintained snow paths. Starting at the reservoir and making his way toward the village, Salvatore moved as quickly as his deformed body would permit, an unusually chipper spring added to his lumbering hobble of a walk.

Mother had a gift for him.

Yes, a truly joyous day it was whenever Mother Miranda called upon him to join her and the other lords for a meeting. Miranda was usually so busy with her experiments that she rarely had time to visit her children outside of these ‘family meetings’ they’d been having recently. However, it would appear as though Mother has come up with a solution of some kind to this problem and wishes to share it with them in person. Whatever this solution is, the mutated man has no idea, as Mother Miranda had been quite vague in her message, however the fact that Salvatore was being given the chance to see his radiant mother AND receive a gift from her, all in one day, was more than enough to make up for how agonizingly lonely he’s been these last few months since winter set in, as well as how agonizing it was for him to walk in this weather.

Salvatore arrived at the usual meeting site just as the clock struck 8pm, precisely as Mother had instructed. However, much to the hooded man’s confusion, when he turned the handle on the large wooden door to enter the room, he quickly realized that he was currently the only one present. This was especially strange considering that, usually, at least one of his siblings was always present a little earlier than necessary, usually Alcina or Karl, but occasionally Donna with Angie in tow.

Mother had clearly said in her message that she wanted to start the meeting at 8pm sharply, so where on earth is everyone?

“Moreau” Mother Miranda’s voice called out, immediately pushing all thoughts from Salvatore’s brain as her powerful, yet lucious voice echoed against the halls of the room like a choir of angels.

“Y-yes! W-what… is it… M-mother Miranda? I-i-i came to you… j-just like you asked” Salvatore responds, bowing his head in reverence as he slowly crosses the room and approaches the otherworldly woman.

“So you did, though I suppose you coming exactly when I call makes the most sense. You always were the most obedient of my children” the woman remarks with casual disdain, her voice devoid of any sort of motherly affection or tenderness. Despite the clear disgust and disregard with which Miranda regards the hooded man standing before her, her words light Salvatore’s soul ablaze, filling his mangled body with intense feelings of heat and desire that melt his heart of the cold, icy frost that had frozen it over the course of the long winter.

“Y-y-yes, y-yes of c-course, Mother M-Miranda! I-i would… I would do any-anything... for y-you. A-anything you s-say... anything y-you n-need… I’d d-do it... f-for you. W-without question!” The deformed man says, practically getting on his hands and knees and crawling as he neared closer and closer to Miranda, stopping only when he’d arrived just in front of the steps the raven mother stood upon, his gaze trained at the ground as he knelt at her feet, awaiting his fate at his mother’s hands.

“I know you would, Moreau,” Miranda says cooly, gently brushing the palm of her hand against the black fabric that covers the top of Salvatore’s head, “which is why I’ve called you here today; to reward you for your loyalty and service to me thus far.”

Salvatore sinks sharp and jagged teeth into the flesh of his bottom lip, nearly drawing blood as he desperately tries to silence the needy whine that wanted to tear its way from the back of his throat. His body shivered and twitched in unimaginable delight from the sudden tender caress to his sensitive skin. How long had it been since someone had touched him so gently? How long since someone had spoken to him with such kind and soft words. Took the time to gather presents as a reward for years of faithful servitude? How long since someone had loved him like this?

‘Too long’ the disfigured man sighed to himself, reveling in the soft, gentle contact for as long as he is able.

“Moreau. Look at me” Miranda commanded firmly, and despite not wanting his beloved Mother to be forced to bear witness to his hideous face, he complied, lifting his head up and back to allow his gaze to lift from the floor and up at the glowing figure that was his Mother, his beautiful, incredible, intelligent, majestic mother.

The light shining down from above illuminates Miranda from behind. From Salvatore’s perspective on the floor, the light darkens her face and most of her torso and waist, giving a softened, almost ethereal glow around Miranda’s figure. This, along with the rest of her garb, makes Mother Miranda appear even more like the holy woman that Salvatore naively believes she still is. Despite her less than affectionate treatment of him thus far, Salvatore still stared up at the darkened face of Mother Miranda, his eyes shining with reverence, love, desire, and unending devotion.

“Y-yes... Mother?” Salvatore breathed, barely able to speak above a whisper as Miranda stepped away, gesturing for him to follow.

“Are you ready to collect your gift now?” The raven mother asks, speaking more softly than before and even holding her hand out to Salvatore, her pose and appearance mirroring that of a powerful god taking mercy upon her wretched follower, reaching out to reward the years of faithful servitude and worship.

Salvatore, barely able to keep himself calm as he stumbled to his feet, did not grace Mother Miranda’s question with a proper response, instead practically racing to take the woman’s outstretched hand in his own.

“I’m ready Mother… I-I’m ready for... my g-gift now… can I… c-can I have it n-now… p-please?” Salvatore begs, pulling at Miranda’s hand like an overly excited child, seemingly unaware of the disgusted twist of her face when the hooded man’s cold, slimy fingers firmly latched onto hers.

“Of course, my child” Mother Miranda says, pulling her hand back from Salvatore’s and instead placing it along the man’s hunched back, beginning to guide him to wherever it was the raven mother had hidden his gift.

As Salvatore limped next to Mother Miranda, the deformed man couldn’t help but wonder what exactly it was that Mother had gotten for him. Was it a new cloak, to replace the worn one he was currently wearing? Perhaps a new set of romance films so he didn’t have to rewatch the ones he already owned over and over again anymore? Or maybe it was something to help with his digestion?

It would be nice to get his chronic acid reflux under control again.

Regardless of what the gift actually turned out to be however, Salvatore was merely pleased that he was finally getting a chance to spend time with Mother Miranda all by himself for a change.

Maybe, if he was lucky, she’d even agree to hold him, just like she always did back when he was still undergoing cadou treatment.

Oh how wonderful that would be!

#salvatore moreau #resident evil #resident evil 8 #resident evil 8 village #resident evil 8: village #mother miranda #beauty and her beast #fic #mine #chapter 1 #re8 #re8 village #re village #salvatore moreau x reader #moreau x reader #moreau x oc #salvatore moreau x oc

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thishintoflove · 3 years

Text

A Sweet Package - BobaDin Week Day 5: AU

Pairing: Din Djarin / Boba Fett

Rating: General (no warnings aside from mild swearing)

Summary: Boba has to deal with an unwanted package at his front door. Luckily, the hassle turns out to be worth it when he meets the package's true owner.

A/N: Here, have some tooth-rotting fluff because these boys deserve it! (ﾉ☉ヮ⚆)ﾉ ⌒*:･ﾟ✧

Also available on AO3

“Ouch, shit, god dammit,” Boba swore as he stubbed his toe.

He shifted his keys to his other hand and leaned against his apartment door as he bent down to rub his toe, glaring at the offending object.

The damn package was in the wrong place. The worst part? He hadn’t even ordered anything recently.

It had been a long day, he was tired, and he didn’t have the time or patience to deal with unwanted shit outside his door.

Boba was inclined to just let it sit there, but he had to move it out of the way if he didn’t want to repeat this stubbed-toe incident tomorrow. As he glanced down again to shove it away with his foot, he noticed that the package had actually come to the correct place, but it had come to the wrong person.

It was his address, but he was certainly not the “Grogu Djarin” to whom it had been addressed.

He’d been living here for almost three months and he hadn’t received any other pieces of mail. Surely there was a forwarding address set up for this Grogu Djarin? The outside label had a personalized message that read, “To Grogu. I love you to the stars and back, little one. Happy Birthday! Love, Dad.”

Ah shit. He was going to have to do something with it.

Boba did not want to be responsible for a kid missing out on his birthday present. Grogu Djarin would probably be expecting his package-- what if this was his only birthday gift? Another closer look at the box revealed a “Perishable: refrigerate after opening” label. Damn, he certainly couldn’t just keep the package and hope that the father in question would come by and collect it. Given its size, weight, and postage markings on it, whoever had ordered it had spent quite a lot on getting it sent.

Boba sighed and bent down to carry the package inside. As he set it down on the kitchen table, he saw that there was no return address, just the information from the company that had sent it. A bakery. A well-known, quite expensive bakery.

He had a very clear picture of what was going on now, but he didn’t know what he could do about it. Boba’s brow furrowed. It wasn’t his responsibility, technically… But the thought of a little boy not receiving his birthday treat, from his father no less, was enough to soften his heart.

He couldn’t get the vision of this unknown man telling his sad child that he wasn’t getting a birthday cake this year out of his head. It was terribly sad...

Oh great. He was on a mission now.

Boba had to get the cake to this child. He needed a plan. Returning to sender would be useless at this point, so he had to find out the current address of Grogu Djarin’s father.

He grabbed his phone and typed up a quick message to his landlord and leasing agency.

"This is Boba Fett from apartment fifteen. Do you have a forwarding address for the previous tenants? I’ve received a time-sensitive package for them."

After sending the message, Boba ambled around his apartment and tried to find something to take his mind off the Problem sitting on his table. He took some cold noodles out of the fridge for dinner and listened to a voicemail from Fennec that mostly involved her complaining about a recent customer.

Right when he was about to dive into invoices from work, his phone buzzed with a message from his landlord. It contained the former tenant’s email address.

He scratched the back of his head as he considered how to compose the email. He figured keeping it formal was a safer bet. He didn’t want this guy thinking he was some kind of creep. Boba hummed to himself as he typed out a message.

"Hello. I’m the current tenant of your previous apartment and I’ve received a package addressed to you. It says “perishable” on it so I figured it was important. Let me know how you’d like to proceed."

He leaned back in his chair, assuming that it would take a while for Grogu Djarin’s father to respond. But it didn’t. Within five minutes, his phone chirped with a response.

"Thank you! I was wondering what happened when it didn’t arrive today like it was scheduled to. It was my own fault for forgetting to update my address when I ordered online. I’m terribly sorry for the inconvenience. Thanks for letting me know what happened."

Boba frowned as he read the response. The man obviously wasn’t expecting anything from him. That was a good thing, but Boba still felt guilty. Perhaps the man was too polite to ask anything of him? He decided to dig a little deeper.

"The package is a birthday cake, right? I recognize the bakery on the label. Do you still need it?"

"Yes, it’s a cake. It’s my son’s birthday tomorrow. All the kids in his class are obsessed with this bakery but we’ve never been, so I decided to order from them as a surprise. I’d offer to come pick it up but my son’s already in bed and I can’t leave him alone. Thanks for letting me know what happened to it. You can get rid of it, or enjoy it yourself if you want."

Boba sucked in a breath and considered his options.

"Are you still in the city? I could bring it to you."

"I couldn’t ask you to do that."

"It’s no trouble."

"Okay, then yes, thank you! I can’t tell you how much that means to me. My address is ---"

Luckily it wasn’t too far from Boba’s apartment. No more than twenty minutes. He could handle that.

He sent back one more message affirming that he was on his way, and then he gathered up the package and his keys. So much for a relaxing night. He had to be up early as usual, but the warmth in his chest almost made up for it. Hell, he felt like some kind of personal Santa Claus. Fennec would say that his actions were “good karma”, but deep down Boba knew he was doing it for the little boy on the label. He knew what it was like to have a disappointing birthday as a child. Boba wouldn’t allow another child to experience that if there was something he could do about it.

Twenty minutes later he was standing in front of an unfamiliar apartment door, double-checking his email to make sure he was at the correct address. He knocked gently, since it was late and the kid inside was likely asleep.

After a brief moment, the door opened to reveal a tall, disheveled man. He was fit and looked only slightly younger than Boba, but his hair was a mess and there was... flour? Yes, flour, spilled across his shirt and sleeves. His brown eyes immediately widened in recognition and gratitude when he realized who was at the door.

“Hey,” Boba said awkwardly, hefting the package in his arms, “I believe this belongs to you.”

“Yes, thank you!” the man exclaimed, opening the door wider and stepping into the threshold, “You really have no idea how much this means to me. My son’s going to be very happy tomorrow.”

“I figured,” Boba replied, handing over the package. He allowed his eyes to run over the man’s features again. He was a mess, but cute. Very cute. And he was clearly a caring father. It made Boba want to be nicer than usual.

“You didn’t have to come all this way. Can I pay you, or give you something to thank you-”

Boba just held up his hand and shook his head.

“It’s no problem, really. I wanted to. As soon as I saw the ‘happy birthday’ message, I thought oh shit, I gotta get this to them. I hope your son enjoys it.”

“I’m sure he will. You really did me a huge favor. We moved a few weeks ago and my head’s still all over the place. Finally got a two-bedroom,” the man said, then quickly shut his mouth when he realized this might be unnecessary information.

“Congratulations,” Boba replied, giving him a wry smile. The man blushed and shifted the package under one arm so he could reach out and shake Boba’s hand.

“I’m Din by the way.”

“Boba. Nice to meet you.”

He knew he could walk away right now, but something about the man in front of him was magnetic. Boba was jaded enough at this point in life to not believe in stupid romantic fantasies like love at first sight, but there was something about this man that seemed special. His eyes captivated Boba’s attention, and he found that he wasn’t ready to end their conversation just yet.

“Were you trying to whip up a last-minute backup cake?” Boba asked, gesturing to the flour he spotted on Din’s collar and neck.

Din gave a humorless chuckle and shook his head.

“Just cupcakes. And it was going terribly. I uh, can’t bake to save my life,” he said, his hand rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

Boba hummed and tilted his head. Should he…? Yeah, he was going to be honest with Din.

“Well, I can.”

Din’s brow furrowed and he gave Boba the most adorable confused look. “Huh?”

“I can bake. Actually, I bake quite a lot.”

“You do?”

“Couldn’t tell just by looking at me?” Boba tossed back sarcastically, but he grinned to show the man he wasn’t truly offended, “Yes, it’s my job. I own a bakery.”

“Oh! That’s amazing! And you… came all this way to deliver a cake from a rival bakery?”

“I’ll be honest, when I first saw the package at my door I was ready to dump it in the trash, but your note changed my mind. They’re overrated, but they’re still pretty good. I’m sure your son and his friends will love the cake.”

“I’m inclined to believe you, seeing as you’re an expert and all.”

“But now you’ll have to allow me to get some free advertising out of this deal,” Boba replied, his grin widening, “If you’re interested in trying some real delicious, authentic stuff, come by my place with your son sometime. It’s over on the West Side. I promise I’ll make something that’ll blow this cake out of the water.”

Din’s eyes sparkled as he nodded, “I think that’s a fair deal. It won’t take much to convince my son, he has a massive sweet tooth.”

“Fantastic. It’ll be worth the trip, just wait and see.”

They smiled at each other like they were in some kind of damn rom-com. Boba knew that he was probably wearing the same goofy-grin as Din but it didn’t bother him. So what if he appeared soft? It was near-midnight on Wednesday, there was no one else in the apartment hallway to see them anyway. Even if there was, Boba couldn’t bring himself to care.

“Well… have a good rest of your night,” he said to Din, taking a step back. He had to leave before he did something really stupid, like lean in for a kiss with this overly attractive stranger. This wasn’t actually a movie- it wasn’t like there was a soft-rock ballad swelling in the background.

“Thank you again, Boba,” Din replied, his voice brimming with sincerity. He gave Boba one last soft smile as the man started to step away, “And I’ll see you soon. I promise.”

“I look forward to it.”

As Boba walked back down the stairs, he couldn’t get the stupid smile off his face. Fennec would laugh at him tomorrow when he recounted the story, but he didn’t care. Sure, real-life wasn’t a movie. But this was as close to it as he’d ever come, and you could be damn sure that he was going to savor it.

#bobadin #bobadinweek2021 #my fanfic #fanfiction tag

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joonie-beanie · 4 years

Text

Stress Relief

Pairing: Barbatos x Reader x Diavolo

Word Count: 10,061

Preview: The Royals have been bogged down with a busy workload, so you decided to help relieve some of their stress in whatever way you can.

Read as: Barbatos has a thing for rope bondage, and Diavolo is just happy to be involved.

This chapter is also being posted as a part of my “Devil Doms” series on AO3.

Also! This is a follow-up to Bath Time, and Helping Hands, so if you haven’t read those, I would recommend doing that first!

For as long as you’ve known Barbatos, you’ve assumed that the butler is perfect in every sense of the word. He’s skilled, and handles his tasks without complaint, and in a timely manner. He addresses his duties with a kind smile—never wavering.

Despite his busy schedule, he never shows signs of cracking.

…until today.

You walk into RAD that fateful Friday morning, and discover Barbatos in the student council room—frowning. Now, seeing Barbatos frown is not entirely out of character. You’ve seen him frown in worry, and in concentration. He does have emotions, after all, but…today he just looks stressed.

There are dark circles under his eyes. The way he’s hurriedly searching through papers—a few slipping off the table and onto the floor—is a sign of his current out-of-character state.

Without second thought, you stride into the room and begin picking up the papers on the floor. Barbatos startles ever so slightly when he notices you at his feet—too absorbed in his current task to have heard you approach.

He sighs.

“Thank you, Y/N.”

“Are you okay?” you respond to his quiet, tired words. There’s genuine concern in your eyes as you press to your full height, and hand the small stack of papers back to him. “I’ve never seen you like this before…”

“It’s been quite a hectic week…or two,” he admits, exhaling in relief as he finally uncovers the report he’d been looking for. “Typically, like students, Lord Diavolo and I are able to rest on the weekends—only dealing with a few, small meetings here or there. But the last two weeks, every day is busy from dawn to dusk.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” you say sincerely. You reach out and give his shoulder a gentle squeeze. Barbatos smiles at the gesture. Then, in an uncharacteristic turn of events, he sets the paper in his hand back on the desk, and turns to fully face you. He envelops you in a tender hug—one of his hands wrapping around your waist while the other moves to cradle against the back of your head.

“You’ll have to forgive me for this sudden display of affection,” he mumbles, his breath tickling your ear as his cheek nuzzles against your hair. “I didn’t realize how much being unable to see you on Sunday would affect me during the week.”

His admission has your cheeks heating up ever so slightly, and you lift your arms—wrapping them tightly around his middle.

Due to Barbatos and Diavolo’s lack of free time, the two had been forced to cancel their tea time with you the previous weekend. You’d been disappointed, considering you’d gotten so used to ending your week in the company of the two, but there was nothing you could do about it. If they were busy, you’d have to suck it up.

“Will you be free this weekend?” you ask him, pulling back to look into his green eyes. He can see the concern, and longing in your gaze. Apparently, you’ve missed him and his Lord as well.

“I can work around your schedule, since I don’t have much to do. Of course, if you’re both too busy, I’ll understand, but—”

He cuts you off with a kiss to your forehead.

“I will double check the schedule and contact you later.” He reaches over and grabs the stack of papers—topped with the report he’d been looking for. As he takes the neat stack into his arms, he turns and flashes you one last smile.

“Thank you for the brief moment of peace. It is greatly appreciated.”

With that, he makes his way out of the student council room with the normal poise and grace he always exhibits. Once alone, you take a deep breath, and hold a hand to your cheek. It’s warm—painted with a light blush.

Really, it’s rare that Barbatos is the one to initiate a show of affection with you. Typically, you’re the one hugging him (although he always reciprocates).

The last time he had initiated skinship was weeks ago, after he’d paid you a visit at the House of Lamentation due to your ailing back.

Memories of that night attempt to push to the forefront of your mind, and you desperately try to shove them away. It’s the middle of the day—you don’t need to be thinking about Barbatos’ hands on your skin, or the way his fingers had felt inside of you…the way he’d looked while his dick was in your mouth…his cute post-orgasm face…

Shaking your head, you smack your red cheeks. You don’t need to be thinking about those types of things during school hours.

Yes, it’s been a few weeks since that fateful day with the royal butler, and you’d be lying if you said he hadn’t crossed your mind sexually every so often since then. However, you’d gotten bogged down with school work—any of your scarce free time going to the brothers—so despite your longing, and Barbatos’ offer of another massage if you wished, you hadn’t gotten a chance to ask.

Then, of course, once your schedule had opened up, Barbatos’ had narrowed. His duties piled up—filling his days with work—and you’d have felt far too guilty asking him for anything on top of his already busy schedule.

Aside from last Sunday, you’d still managed to maintain your weekly appointment of Sunday evening tea with the butler and Demon Prince, but bringing up sexual favors while sipping on Earl Grey and eating tiny sandwiches hardly seemed appropriate.

So, you’ve accepted that maybe it will be a while until you’re able to inquire about Barbatos’ services again. And while it’s a little disappointing, you don’t intend to push the matter. Barbatos already works so hard, and you don’t want to burden him with your sexual need.

Taking a deep breath, you grab the straps of your backpack, and nod to yourself. While you long for another massage experience from the royal butler, you can live without one. Right now, you just want his schedule to clear up, so you can resume your regular Sunday tea with him and Diavolo. And if that’s all you’re able to receive, at the moment, then you’ll still be satisfied.

Smiling, you finally step out of the student council room and make your way to your next class.

Hours later—as you’re heading back to your room following dinner with the brothers—you feel your DDD vibrate. Curious, you pull out the device and look at the notification lingering on the screen.

[New Text from Barbatos]

Your heart skips a beat—nervous to see the contents. There’s a big possibility that the royals are still busy this weekend, and that they won’t be able to squeeze you in anywhere.

You take a moment to calm yourself before clicking into the message.

Barbatos: I apologize for my late follow-up. It seems that Lord Diavolo and I will not be available for our normal Sunday Tea time again.

Barbatos: However, I am free starting at 7pm on Saturday evening, if you would like to come over. Lord Diavolo will be tied up with a meeting until a bit later, but he expressed interest in joining should the meeting adjourn at an acceptable hour.

Barbatos: I understand if you already have plans, but please let me know if I should expect you.

You’d already promised to have a self-care night with Asmo on Saturday, but honestly—you’re sure that he’ll understand.

You: That works just fine for me! I will be over at 7 tomorrow.

Barbatos responds with a happy sticker, and you find yourself smiling. You can’t wait to see them.

The hours tick by slower than you think possible the following day as you wait for evening to come.

Due to the addition into your schedule, you and Asmo change your self-care night to a self-care afternoon. Thankfully, Gossiping with the Avatar of Lust--while doing face masks, and sipping on mimosas--definitely helps to pass the time quicker.

The two of you finish up just before dinner, and head down to the dining hall together. You eat merrily with the 7 brothers—making conversation, and listening to their banter. By the time the table is cleared, and everyone’s bellies are full of food, it’s already nearing 6:30.

Hurrying back to your room, you make sure you look presentable. You mess with your hair—trading your shorts and tank top for a knee-length sundress. Not only has the Devildom been heating up lately, but you always try to dress a bit nicer in front of the royals. So, a sundress should be perfect for the occasion.

Throwing your DDD into a small purse Satan had gifted you some time ago, you sling the bag over your shoulder and make your way from your room. You run into Lucifer by the front door, and he surveys you with a knowing look.

“You’re headed to the Demon Lord’s Castle, correct? I’ll walk you part way. I’m leaving to meet someone in town.”

“Thanks,” you smile, stepping through the front door when he holds it open for you. The two of you then start away from the House of Lamentation, comfortably at each other’s sides.

“How did you know that I’m heading to the Castle?” you ask him as you walk. You don’t recall sharing your plans for the night with any of the brothers. Even when you’d changed the time of your plans with Asmo, and he had inquired, you’d just said that something had come up. (He had begrudgingly accepted that response—too curious for his own good).

“I had a meeting with Barbatos and Diavolo this morning,” he tells you, eyes ahead as he guides you through the crowded streets. “Diavolo was whining about how he hopes his meeting with the planning committee tonight won’t drag on too long, so he can join you and Barbatos before it’s time for you to leave.”

“I mean…how late can the meeting possibly drag?” you question, blinking innocently. There’s no way a meeting will last beyond…10…11pm, right?

“Depending on the matters that need to be discussed, I’ve witnessed the meeting last until 2 in the morning,” he informs you with a shake of his head. “Diavolo hates speaking with the committee more than anything, so I hope he’ll be able to wrap things up in a timely manner.”

“That would be nice,” you say honestly. “It seems like they’ve both been running rampant... Speaking of, how is your workload?”

You grin up at him, a knowing look in your eyes. Lucifer sighs, smoothing a hand through his dark hair.

“My time to sleep is limited, but for once, it seems that I’m not fairing the worst among the three of us. I hope your visit with Barbatos and Diavolo will help them relax a little.”

“I don’t know if I have that type of power, but I hope so too,” you laugh, pausing when Lucifer places his hand atop your hair. He regards you fondly—the two of you standing in the middle of the city street.

“You don’t give yourself enough credit,” he says, and then steps away. “This is where I leave you. I believe you know the rest of the way, yes?”

You nod, and he raises a hand—bidding you farewell.

“Don’t stay too late. If you need an escort home, text the group chat and one of us will come get you.”

“Will do, Lucifer~,” you drawl, tempted to roll your eyes. They’re always so overprotective of you—it’s not like you always need an escort.

Lucifer flashes you the slightest of glares—lips tugging into a smirk—before he turns and disappears up a side street. Now on your own, you continue up the wide road—taking the familiar path to the castle. You arrive a few minutes later, and when you knock on the grand front door, it only takes a few seconds for Barbatos to pull it open.

“I’m glad you could make it,” he says, eyes creasing pleasantly as he smiles. You can see the exhaustion beginning to settle into the small lines of his face.

“Of course. I was looking forward to seeing you,” you respond honestly. As he guides you into the castle, you can hear the chatter of distant voices, and assume that Diavolo’s meeting with the committee must have already started.

“Would you mind accompanying me to the kitchen? I’m afraid I haven’t had the chance to prepare the tea yet.”

“No worries!” you say immediately, flashing him a reassuring smile. “I’ll help out if I can, too!”

Barbatos chuckles. “I’d appreciate that.”

Engulfed in a comfortable silence, the two of you make your way to the kitchen. Once there, Barbatos pulls out a kettle, and then moves to fetch the tea. However, when he pulls open the wooden cupboard, he pauses.

Curious, you step up behind him, peeking over his shoulder.

The cupboard is entirely empty.

Barbatos places his gloved palms on the counter, his head hanging in defeat, and an annoyed sigh leaving his lips. You stare at him, shocked to see the crack in his professional demeanor.

“The other servants must have grabbed the last of it to serve the guests at the meeting…”

“It’s okay, Barb!!” You say immediately, jumping back and throwing your arms into the air. “We don’t need tea!! It’s not Sunday anyway!”

The butler turns to look at you, and can’t help but laugh at your dorky position.

“I suppose you’re right,” he admits, raising a hand to cover his face as he releases a few more chuckles. Your cheeks heat up a little, realizing you must look silly, and you drop your arms.

“Besides, I don’t want you to feel obligated to serve me while I’m here! This is supposed to be a break for you, since you’ve been so busy!”

“But if we’re not having tea, then what shall we do?” he questions, tilting his head to the side innocently. You blink, lifting a hand to your chin as you ponder the thought.

“Well…is there anything I can do to help you relax?” you smile at him kindly as you speak. “You’ve been working hard, so if there’s anything I can do to ease some of the stress off your shoulders, I’d love to help.”

Barbatos regards you curiously at the offer—like there’s an idea that immediately comes to mind, but he’s not sure if he wants to say it. You assume that perhaps he’ll ask you to help with a chore, or will ask for something like a foot rub. Oh! Or maybe to play a board game.

Instead, he ends up flashing you a small smile. He extends his hand, holding it out to you, and you take it without a second thought. Fingers slotting through your own, he then tugs you from the kitchen and back into the hall—leading you somewhere else.

“There is a hobby I have that helps me to relieve stress. It’s a bit…unorthodox, so if you’re not comfortable with it, then—”

“I’m sure it’s fine, Barb!” you interrupt him, a pout on your lips. “I want to help you unwind, so whatever it is, I’m sure I can handle it.”

He gives your hand a squeeze, an amused look in his eyes. He doesn’t bother with a rebuttal—simply letting you think what you wish.

Silently, he guides you through the long halls. At some point, you pass the entrance to the magnificent bathroom you’d once discovered Diavolo bathing in. Your experience with the aphrodisiac, and Diavolo helping you out on that night feels like a fever dream. The thought of his stupidly large cock, and his hands on your body has you getting warm all over, and you shake your head to try and rid yourself of the sinful imagery.

The event had happened months ago, at this point. Since then, you and Diavolo have never spoken on it, and you wonder if he regrets his actions—feeling like perhaps he had overstepped his boundaries with a guest in the heat of the moment.

However, considering he acts friendly and kind to you as always—still offering hugs, and other simple shows of affections—you haven’t bothered confronting him about it. As long as the two of you are on good terms, that’s what matters to you. (Even if you have occasionally fantasized about fitting his cock inside you since then).

“Are you thinking of Lord Diavolo?” Barbatos’ voice drags you out of your thoughts, a knowing look in his eyes as he regards you. You blush, embarrassed at having been read so easily.

“I…I just…I wonder, sometimes, if he solely helped me out of a sense of obligation, or if he enjoyed it as much as I did,” you admit quietly. Barbatos gives your hand a comforting squeeze. “We’ve never talked about what happened, so…Agh, I’m sorry—is it weird that I’m talking about this with you? I don’t—”

“It’s not strange, Y/N,” he interrupts you with a shake of his head. “Lord Diavolo and I are quite close. Not to mention, I was there the night you were affected by the bath, remember?”

In that moment, you suddenly recall that yes—Barbatos had been there to see you in all of your needy glory—and you heat up more. If he notices, he chooses not to comment.

“While Lord Diavolo may have acted as he did to stop the effects of the aphrodisiac, I assure you he received just as much enjoyment out of your predicament as you did.”

Curious to the meaning of his words, you furrow your brow and stare at him. Barbatos just smiles—giving nothing away. Not until you start angrily pouting, at least. Then, he loosens his lips with a quiet sigh.

“I went to check on My Lord after I saw you return to your room, and when I approached his chambers, I could tell he was…preoccupied with the affliction you had given him.”

Meaning, he had overhead Diavolo jacking off to the thought of you after he’d left you alone in the bathing area to clean yourself up.

Ah.

“Okay, can we stop talking about this before I combust, and die?” you ask, a hint of a whine slipping into your tone. You tug your hand from Barb’s grip to cover your blushing face. He chuckles.

“For someone so lewd, you certainly do get embarrassed easily by your own actions.”

“I’m gonna request that you STOP calling me out like this, thanks,” you shoot back, glaring at him through spread fingers. He breathes a laugh, and you pause in your stride as he suddenly stops in front of a closed door.

Looking around, you realize that you’ve never been to this part of the castle before.

Twisting the handle to the door, Barbatos pushes it open and then ushers you inside. You regard the sizable room curiously.

It looks similar to any other lounge in the castle. The walls are lined with bookshelves and paintings. There are four couches—all placed in large square formation around where a coffee table would typically be. However, there is no coffee table.

Instead, about 8 feet from the ground, there’s a long, thick strip of bamboo. The bamboo is held up by tan colored rope—thick, professional knots secured to either end of the wood, and leading back up to hooks on the ceiling.

In fact, when you look closer. You can see that there are hooks mounted to the ceiling in multiple areas around the room. Not to mention the dozen spirals of rope hanging off hooks near the fireplace.

You swallow the saliva that has pooled in your mouth.

“You…use rope bondage to relieve stress?”

“Oh? You’re familiar with it?” he questions, stepping across the threshold of the room. He reaches up to grab one of the perfectly kept bundles of rope—trailing his fingers across the soft, red fibers.

You hold your arms shyly in front of you. This is a turn of events which you hadn’t been expecting tonight.

“I’ve always found it to be interesting, and beautiful, in a way,” you admit, purposely leaving out how you find it entirely too arousing as well. Just the thought of Barbatos tying you up has wetness already beginning to gather between your thighs. But, you don’t want to make it awkward—fearing that perhaps Barb doesn’t get any sexual gratification from the activity—so you stay silent about how much it turns you on.

“So, you wouldn’t be opposed to helping me relieve some of my stress, if this is what is involved?”

Your gaze shifts from the handsome butler, to the rope in his grasp, to the bamboo anchor in the center of the room. You wet your lips, and then smile at him.

“Of course. I’d be more than happy to.”

At your words, Barbatos steps forward—stalking over to where you’re standing just within the ring of couches. His mossy eyes regard you softly. You feel your heart hammering away within your ribs.

“Do you promise you’re saying that sincerely? I don’t want to hurt you, nor push you beyond what you’re comfortable with.”

“I know, Barb,” you tell him softly. You reach your hand out—fingertips skimming over slightly rough fibers of the rope. You’re sure you’ll feel a slight bite when he ties you up, but the thought only serves to heighten your arousal. “I wouldn’t agree if I didn’t want to help. And I trust you. Please don’t worry—this is what I want.”

A pleased look settling on his face, he leans down and presses the briefest of kisses to your forehead.

“I’m glad to hear so.”

Taking a step back, the butler regards you contemplatively.

“I would hate to ruin your dress. And it’s easier to tie with less clothing in the way. Would you mind removing it?”

Your face heats up at the request, but you nod—moving to slip the straps off your shoulders. After all, he’d massaged you all those weeks ago. It’s not like seeing your body is anything new to him.

“Just the dress?”

It’s an innocent question. You want to make his job as easy as possible.

“You—”

“Hey, isn’t this basically just more work for you?” you interrupt him as you shimmy your dress down your torso to the swell of your hips. He chuckles, gaze flitting down to look at your sheer-lace bra. The black color matches your underwear—although the panties aren’t lace, nor see through. (You hadn’t accidentally wanted to flash a demon (or at least, reveal too much) in town if the wind decided to flip your dress up on your journey over).

“It does take effort on my part, but I don’t consider it to be “work”,” he tells you. “And yes, just your dress is fine. Your undergarments won’t get in the way.”

“Okay,” you nod, voice soft. You finish stepping out of your dress—discarding it onto one of the nearby couches. Barb looks over your form appreciatively, and you seriously wish you could learn how to control your blushes.

“It’s important that you stretch, first. I don’t want you hurting your back again.”

“What? Not interested in giving me any more massages?” you tease, eyes sparkling at him. He breathes a laugh.

“I never said that.”

As you bend over—touching your toes, and stretching out your tight muscles, Barbatos moves across the room to grab more spools of rope. The entire time, his gaze lingers on you—taking note of your level of flexibility.

He’s pleasantly surprised by what he sees. The cogs in his brain start turning as he silently debates which position he should tie you in.

After a few minutes of stretching, it seems that Barbatos is finally satisfied to begin.

“This may take some time to tie. If you’re ever uncomfortable, or the rope feels too tight—please let me know.”

“I will, Barb.”

With that, the demon butler is quick to get to work. He instructs you to lift your arms, and you do so obediently—watching him as he wraps the rope around your torso, just beneath your bust. He stops every so often to check the firmness of his ties—making sure that he can slip a finger between the rope and your skin. He wants it to be loose enough that it won’t impede your blood flow, but tight enough that you’ll stay bound once he attempts to suspend you.

Before long, Barbatos has dressed you with a chess harness—your clothed tits pressing against the lacy fabric of your bra as the ties above, below, and between your breasts squeeze your mounds and push them outwards.

Satisfied with his work, he nods his head and takes a step away.

“Could you please sit on the floor, and spread your legs?”

His request reminds you of the growing pool of arousal in your nether region, but you comply nonetheless.

Sitting on the hardwood floor, you drop your arms to your sides and spread your legs. As you do so, the butler walks over to the fireplace. Just above the mantle is a hook—a strand of rope securely weaved around it. As Barbatos works on loosening the thick, hemp rope, you trace it’s path across the ceiling, and realize it’s the rope currently controlling the height of the bamboo anchor above you.

As the demon unfurls the rope from around the hook, the solid strip of bamboo moves closer to the ground. Soon, it’s only a few feet from the floor.

Satisfied with its new height—at least for the time being—Barbatos loosely wraps the rope back around the hook and then returns to your side. He kneels behind you, and you gasp when his fingers tug at the knot of rope between your shoulder blades.

“Too tight?” he questions, reaching to snag another bundle of red rope from the couch. You shake your head.

“Nope, just right.”

He hums considerately at your comment, sounding a little amused.

You remain silent as he drags more rope against your back—threading it through the bulk of your chest harness. Each pass of the soft fabric has goosebumps rising on your skin, and your gaze glances down between your still spread legs.

Hopefully since your panties are black, he won’t be able to see the wet spot that has formed…

You breathe shakily when Barbatos hefts the rope over the bamboo bar—giving it a tug. You feel the chest harness hug your tits ever tighter at the action, and you bite your lip to hold back from groaning. Honestly, if he touched your clit right now, you’re sure he could bring you to climax with little effort…

However, since you’re still attempting to be considerate of the fact that this is his stress relief, you don’t say anything. You remain carefully silent as he secures you to the anchor via the chest harness—an additional length of rope winding around your waist. He ties it to the bamboo as well—hoping to take some of the pressure off of your chest, seeing as he doesn’t want to bruise your ribs.

Once that’s taken care of, he moves in front of you. There are two more lengths of rope in his grasp.

For the first time in a while, Barbatos takes a moment to regard you. He’s been so caught up in his work, that aside from little inquiries as to your comfort, he hasn’t gotten a chance to really check in on you.

What he finds before him is a little startling.

Your cheeks are painted red—eyes blown wide, and lips slightly swollen from how much you’ve been biting them in order to try and control your reactions. As his gaze rakes down, glossing over your chest, he notes that your breathing is quick--your nipples taut against the thin cups of your bra. A tell-tale sign of your arousal.

A handsome grin tugs at his lips.

Reaching down, he squeezes the meat of your inner thigh with one hand, stretching your leg open wider. He lifts his other hand to his mouth—effortlessly tugging the white glove off with his teeth—before he’s dragging two of his digits gently up the crotch of your panties.

“My, I guess I shouldn’t have worried about being selfish with my request,” he chuckles. You pout at him angrily, eyes glancing away.

“Don’t tease me…I was trying to be polite…”

The pout on your lips fades away the moment his naked palm cups your cheek. Gently, he guides you to look at him—his face just inches from yours.

“I apologize for teasing,” he says. “I’m pleased to know you’re enjoying yourself beyond what I expected.”

To emphasize his words, he leans in and presses a tender kiss to your lips. Immediately you’re moaning, hands reaching forward to fist in his shirt—keeping him close to you. Your mouths slot together—slow, languid kisses being exchanged between you.

“Would you like to continue?” he eventually mumbles, and when your eyelashes flutter open, you find him staring at you—a heat in his gaze that hadn’t been present before.

“Yes, please.”

Sitting back, Barbatos tugs off his other glove and immediately resumes his work.

He starts at your ankles—wrapping the rope around you a few times, before tossing it over the bamboo--this time on the outside of the sturdy hemp, which is keeping the light-weight wood anchored to the ceiling. He repeats the action on your other leg, mirroring his previous actions, and then moves to make a tie just above your knee with a new spool.

This time, there’s an additional command.

“Lift your arms up.”

You do so, watching him with bated breath as he once again threads the rope across the slab of wood above you. This time, however, he pulls the rope tight—hiking your leg as high as it will go in combination with the ankle ties keeping your legs spread wide.

Once the rope is taut, he ties it around your wrists—letting you keep your arms bent. Your hand instinctively moves to hold onto the rope once the knot is finished, and you give it an experimental tug downward. The additional tension causes your legs to part even more—revealing all you have to offer.

“Are you, ah, fond of having girls spread wide like this for you?” you ask, a little breathless as you watch him grab one final coil of the rope. This time he moves to secure it around your upper thighs, right near your pelvis. He threads it beneath the rope around your waist—tugging it tight, and truly making sure your legs are spread as much as possible. You actually start to feel a dull strain as he makes the final tie—mirroring it on your other leg, per usual.

“I wouldn’t say that,” he responds, smiling as he pulls on the rope in a few places—making small adjustments to the tension in certain ties in order to ensure that your weight will be evenly distributed. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been able to do this, and I can confidently say that you’re making it far more entertaining than I expected.”

“Well, you’re welcome for that.”

Chuckling, he presses to his feet and moves past you. The butler makes his way to the fireplace, once more taking hold of the rope tied above it.

“I’m going to suspend you now,” he informs you, and your pussy clenches at his words. “If you feel pain, tell me and we will stop immediately.”

“Okay,” you breathe, licking your lips. In the next moment, you feel the rope around you dig into your skin ever so slightly—your ass inching off of the ground as Barbatos effortlessly moves the bamboo anchor higher into the air.

Within seconds—you're fully suspended, your body about 3 feet from the floor. The rope bites at your flesh, but not painfully. Just enough to remind you that you’re tied up, in the air, and at Barbatos’ mercy.

Since you don’t express any discontent, Barbatos re-secures the rope around the hook, and then makes his way to the center of the room. He takes his time walking around you—surveying his work. His fingers trail across your sensitive skin, making you gasp. Your legs jump against the bindings in reaction to his touches, but your limbs barely move--his skillful ties keeping you obediently held in the position he has chosen for you.

“Barb…,” you whine, not knowing how much more of this you can take. You’ve been horny since the moment you’d stepped foot into the room, and you’re sure at least an hour has passed since he began tying you—if not more. Your panties are practically soaked. You need some type of relief, and soon, or you honestly think you’ll explode.

Barbatos steps in front of you, two fingers hooking beneath your chin and angling your head up to look at him. He smiles.

“Is there a problem?”

There’s a mirthful glint in his eye. It’s clear he’s feeling more playful now that he’s in his element.

“I…please touch me.”

“I thought earlier you expressed worry in me doing “extra work”? It certainly sounds like you’re asking me to exert myself with that request.”

“Barb, please,” you whine, struggling against the rope as you attempt to lean up and kiss him. There’s no way he can deny you after all of this—not when you’re in such a state. “Please. I need you.”

Your begging sounds like music to his ears, and he gives in a little—leaning down to kiss you. You melt into the sensation.

“How would you like me to touch you, Y/N?”

“I…I want your cock, this time,” you say honestly, mumbling the words embarrassedly against him. You feel bad asking. After your previous escapade, you’d gotten the feeling that Barbatos was more comfortable in pleasing others, rather than focusing on himself. After all, despite having gotten hard, he had never asked to have sex with you. He’d been content with getting you off on his fingers, and likely would have let himself remain hard without solace if you hadn’t offered to help him in return.

Barbatos pauses at your request.

“It’s okay, if you’re not comfortable,” you quickly say, understanding painted in your eyes as you regard him. “I just…have been thinking about the possibility of having you inside of me, since last time, so—”

“If I am what you want, then I shall give you what you ask,” he interrupts, leaning in to steal another tender kiss. A quiet moan escapes you.

“Are you sure?”

“I wouldn’t be offering otherwise.”

He cups your cheeks, peppering you with kisses, and then steps back. You watch him with rapt attention as he fiddles with his belt—working to free his cock from it’s confines. You hadn’t noticed before, but he’s already hard—straining against the zipper of his slacks.

Luckily, he’s skilled with his hands. It only takes a few seconds until his length is free—his slacks and the boxer briefs beneath them resting just below his pelvis.

“We should have taken these off, if you desired this outcome,” he comments, finger looping beneath the crotch of your panties. You pout at him, but don’t bother retorting. Right now, the only thing on your mind is Barbatos putting his cock inside of you and fucking you until you cum.

Noting your hungry stare, Barbatos doesn’t bother asking permission before he moves your panties to the side, revealing your slick womanhood. Grasping his length, he guides the tip of his cock between your folds—wetting himself with your arousal. When he catches your clit, you openly moan—body flexing against the ropes holding you in place.

Barbatos can’t help but smile.

“Always so needy.”

You open your mouth to respond, but all that comes out is a heated groan—the demon butler sheathing himself into your heat without warning. Your sopping walls allow him to glide in easily, and the sudden stretch has your eyes rolling back.

“Fuck, Barb,” you breathe his name, fixing him with the most pitiful face you can manage. You need him to move—now.

He’s more than happy to comply.

Barbatos rocks his hips back and forth gently, fucking in and out of you with care as he assures that you’re okay for him to move despite the abrupt intrusion. He feels your walls clench around him—seeking more—and he takes a deep breath at the sensation. You feel so good.

Gripping your waist, he thrusts into you with fervor. His speed increases, a blush dusting his cheeks as his gaze shifts between your blissful face, and your greedy pussy. In all his years, he’s never seen someone take his cock so beautifully.

Quick pants slipping past your lips, you instinctively tug at the rope wrapped around your wrists—accidentally spreading your legs wider as he fucks you. You can feel the strain on your thigh muscles, but right now, it’s the least of your worries. You’re too preoccupied with the way Barbatos’ cock is dragging inside of you—hitting you in all the right places.

“Please touch my clit,” you gasp, sensing your impending orgasm. You feel bad, being so close already, but you can’t help it. Barbatos’ cock throbs as he realizes how quickly you’re coming unraveled thanks to him. At this rate, he won’t last very long either.

Always happy to serve, the butler removes one hand from your waist and presses his thumb into your clit. The swift, side to side motion against the sensitive bundle of nerves has you choking on a moan—your head lolling backwards.

“Oh fuck,” you bite, the muscles in your torso tensing. Barbatos can feel your pussy tightening around him, and he clenches his jaw. Keeping his rhythm, it’s only another minute until you’re crying out his name—body spasming against the bindings as you reach the apex of your pleasure. Your pussy milks around his cock, constricting so tightly that a curse actually falls from the demon’s lips.

With a strained groan, he pulls himself from inside of you—his seed spurting against your used pussy, with a few stray droplets painting your thighs.

You’re just about to whine at the sudden loss of him when the door to the room creaks open. Immediately, you’re ejected from the bliss of your orgasm—heart hammering against your ribs and eyes flying open as you turn to see who has discovered you and Barbatos in such a compromising state.

“I actually managed to get the committee to end the meeting early, and went in search of the two of you,” the Demon Prince himself speaks, stepping inside. “When I discovered our typical spot empty, and then noticed the lack of tea in the kitchen cupboards, I thought I’d better check here. Seems I was right to.”

Diavolo chuckles as the door clicks closed behind him. He reaches up to loosen his tie, his infamous red coat nowhere to be found.

“My Lord,” Barbatos speaks, bowing. You glance down and notice that the butler has already tucked himself back into his pants—looking perfect as usual. The only hint of his recently experienced bliss is a few stray hairs sticking to his forehead, and a dust of blush on his cheeks.

Oh, and the cum that’s leaking down your skin.

The Demon Prince smiles pleasantly at his butler before his heavy golden gaze shifts to you. Instantly, you’re feeling warm all over—embarrassed beyond belief to be seen by Diavolo in such a lewd state.

Your little fling in the bath with him is one thing, but being hoisted mid-air, legs spread wide, with nowhere to hide yourself is another.

“Diav—”

“Impeccable work, as always, Barbatos,” Diavolo interrupts you. He steps into the center of the room, reaching forward to grip the strands of rope parting your breasts. He gives the harness an appreciative tug, eliciting a gasp from you. His eyes sparkle at the sound.

“Thank you, my Lord.”

“I see you were a little zealous today,” he continues, eyes falling to your used pussy. Your breath catches—gaze widening in surprise as Diavolo drags his finger through a stripe of Barbatos’ cum. Behind the Prince, the butler dips his head.

“Y/N requested it of me. I would be a fool to have said no.”

“Indeed,” Diavolo chuckles, his attention never leaving you. His large hands roam across your legs—skimming over the rope where it digs into the soft flesh of your thighs. There’s an appreciative glint in his gaze as he surveys your body—beautiful and helpless thanks to Barbatos’ rope work.

“You know, Y/N,” he begins after a minute, his fingertips trailing up the length of your arms, and making you shiver. He leans down to your eye level, smiling at you handsomely. “I was a little worried, following the incident with the aphrodisiac, that perhaps I had overstepped my boundaries. However, following recent events, I’m wondering if it’s not that a line was crossed, but perhaps that it’s me you’re not interested in.”

You shift your gaze to Barbatos, wondering if he had told Diavolo the outcome of the massage he’d given you a few weeks prior, but his face reveals nothing. He’s back to being the perfect butler in the presence of his Lord.

“Lord Diavolo, t-that’s—,” you swallow the lump in your throat, arousal flaring in your gut when Diavolo presses a finger beneath your chin, turning your attention back to him. “That’s not it at all. I promise.”

He cocks a curious eyebrow, waiting for you to explain. You take a shaky breath, muscles flexing beneath the bindings as your post-orgasm high begins to fade, making the bite of the rope more obvious.

“I…have wanted you—to have you, ever since that night. I just…didn’t have the guts to inquire about the possibility…I was hoping maybe you would approach me instead, and when it didn’t happen, I assumed the window of opportunity had closed.”

“Oh, Y/N,” he moves his hands to cup your cheeks, gently skimming his thumb across the warm flesh. “You are more than welcome to ask anything of me.”

“I want you, then. Now,” you breath, a fresh wave of arousal pooling in your belly as you stare at him. Your words have his golden eyes darkening with hunger.

The months worth of unspoken desire fills the space between your bodies--igniting a flame in Diavolo’s blood.

“Say it again,” he commands. You strain against the bindings, wishing you could touch him.

“I want you, Lord Diavolo. Please fuck me.”

In the next beat, Diavolo is on your lips. He licks into your mouth, swallowing all of your needy little whines and moans. One of his hands moves to tangle in your hair—trapping your lips against his own—while the other finds purchase on your breast.

He slips a finger beneath the lace cup, and tugs it down without hesitation—freeing the previously covered mound. You gasp around his tongue, thighs flexing. You can feel arousal beginning to dribble down your cunt, pussy once again aching to be used and filled.

“Barbatos,” Diavolo rumbles, finally pulling back to give you air. The butler appears at the edge of your vision as you struggle to breathe. He places a hand over his heart.

“Adjust the height of the suspension, and then come here. It’s not fair of me to make you watch. Come and join.”

“Yes, My Lord.”

Barbatos disappears from your field of vision, and a few moments later, you squirm as you feel yourself being hoisted higher into the air. The sensation stops when your pussy is at the same height as Diavolo’s growing bulge.

“I can’t be mad at the two of you for enjoying yourselves without me, when it acts as such good preparation,” Diavolo chuckles, two of his fingers slipping between your glistening folds. They push into your heat with little resistance, so the Prince adds a third. You feel a stretch, but it’s far from painful—a quiet moan sneaking past your lips.

He watches you with arousal swimming in his golden irises.

Leaning in to lap against the unmarred skin of your neck, Diavolo pumps his fingers in and out of you. Wet sounds fill the room along with your breathy whines, and the minute Barbatos steps up behind you—moving his hands to fondle your breasts—you let go of any remaining decency.

You throw your head back, body shaking as the two pleasure you. Groans fall from your lips, hips bucking against Diavolo’s hand. You crave him, desperate to feel your pussy stretched around his monstrous cock.

“Please,” you beg, barely able to get the word out. Diavolo shushes you with a hot breath against your neck—canines nipping at your flesh.

“Be patient,” he tells you. “One more.”

He momentarily removes his fingers from inside you before pushing back in—a fourth joining the others this time. The sensation steals your breath away—body thrashing against the bindings. You’re so stupidly horny that you don’t even care if it hurts. You need Diavolo inside of you.

“You must trust Lord Diavolo, Y/N,” Barbatos pipes up. You can feel his breath on your ear—his mouth moving to rest on the side of your neck that Diavolo isn’t currently assaulting with his lips, teeth and tongue. To accentuate his words, he rolls your hardened nipples between his fingers. Your pussy clenches around the Demon Prince’s digits.

“He’s only doing this so not to hurt you.”

“I know, but—,” Diavolo cuts off your whining with a rough bite against the junction of your shoulder. You gasp at the pain, writhing, and once more he’s rewarded with your pussy gripping his fingers so deliciously. The Demon Prince’s cock throbs at the sensation, craving to be inside of you, but he knows he can’t take you as easily as others might. The last thing he wants is to break you.

…as fun as that idea may be.

“You’re doing so well,” he praises you, tongue lapping over the indentation of his teeth. A bit of blood pools in the shallow divots—the tangy red liquid making him groan deep within his chest. He pumps his fingers in and out of you for what feels like ages, continuing until there’s no resistance.

Then, finally, his digits leave you with an embarrassing squelch. You mourn the loss with a needy whine, eyes peeling open to stare at him. However, when you see Diavolo messing with his slacks—his cock springing free and standing tall against his abdomen just as you had remembered it—your protest ceases.

Instead, you’re left swallowing the saliva that pools in your mouth—cunt throbbing as Diavolo presses himself back between your legs. Barbatos is by no means small with regard to dick size, but Diavolo makes taking the butler seem like child’s play.

“Remember to breathe,” The Prince tells you, tracing his length between your folds. The head of his cock pushes against your entrance, and despite his warning, you feel your breath catch. Even four fingers are barely enough to prepare you to take him.

“Breathe,” Barbatos whispers against your neck, his hands moving to settle just beneath your breasts. He gives you a reassuring squeeze, and you finally suck in a shaky breath of air. Diavolo allows you a moment to ground yourself before he moves once more—managing to fully slide the head of his dick in, along with a few inches of shaft.

You see stars.

“Fuck!” your entire body shakes, pain and arousal mingling in a dangerous combination. Your chest heaves, knuckles turning white with how tightly you’re gripping the rope binding your wrists. And yet, you can’t take your eyes off the sight of Diavolo’s cock, and the way it disappears inside of you. You don’t dare look away.

Hands gripping your waist, Diavolo takes a deep breath in through his nose, and then cants his hips forward. The rest of his length stuffs inside of you—stomach bulging ever so slightly from his girth—and your mind goes white.

Hot tears stream down your cheeks.

For a frightening second, Diavolo worries that he has injured you.

“Y/N—”

“Please please please please move!” you cry, chest heaving. You struggle against the bindings, breaking off into a desperate sob. The Demon Prince and his butler share a surprised look. Then, Diavolo is grinning, ever so slowly rocking his hips into you. Each movement assaults you with a new wave of pleasure.

“You didn’t tell me that she gets like this,” Diavolo remarks, glancing to his long-time friend. Barbatos shakes his head, his hands once more settling on your breasts. When the butler flicks his thumbs against your nipples, a muscle clenches in Diavolo’s jaw—your pussy constricting around him.

“I had no idea it was possible,” Barbatos responds, but you don’t hear their conversation. You can’t tear your gaze from the spot where Diavolo’s cock vanishes between your walls. You’ve never been so full before—so stretched--right at your breaking point.

It feels so good.

“Y/N,” Diavolo speaks your name tenderly, drawing you from your state of desperation. Your blown-out eyes turn up to him. He cups your cheek, brushing over the damp tear tracks on your skin. “What are your safe words?”

“S…Stoplight colors,” you tell him, and he nods. Leaning in, he presses a sweet kiss to your forehead.

“Use them if you need to.”

“Yes, My Lord.”

Feeling better about your safety, Diavolo once more grips your waist, and begins fucking into your pussy with quick, smooth strokes. Each drag of his cock inside of you has you moaning—arousal rapidly building in the pit of your stomach. A part of you hopes that you’ll last long enough to cum with the Demon Prince, but when Barbatos settles his mouth against your neck—sucking at a particularly sensitive patch of flesh—you reach your climax without warning.

A cry tears from your throat. Your body spasms, pussy milking around Diavolo’s cock and hugging him so firmly that he actually snarls at the sensation. However, he doesn’t bother reprimanding you for the unprompted orgasm. No, instead he waits just long enough to allow the height of your pleasure to subside, before he begins snapping his hips into you with abandon.

Your lips part in a silent scream, Diavolo fucking you hard enough to make your tits bounce despite the upright position. As you struggle to maintain any sense of coherency, Barbatos hugs you tightly from behind, whispering quiet praises against your skin. It’s truly the only thing keeping you ground, at the moment.

“I can feel you getting tight again,” Diavolo remarks, the slightest growl in his voice, even as he chuckles. “Are you going to cum with me, Y/N?”

You shake your head violently. “I-I can’t. I can’t.”

You’re convinced that another orgasm will kill you.

Diavolo glances past your shoulder, to Barbatos. The butler nods his head. Without speaking a word, Barbatos knows his Lord’s request.

Pressing an apologetic kiss to your shoulder, Barbatos lowers one of his hands between your spread legs. Two of his fingers find your clit, and you choke down a sob. You desperately attempt to convince the royals that you’re unable to cum a third time, but the way your walls continue to contract around Diavolo’s cock says otherwise.

“Cum with me, and then you can rest,” Diavolo speaks, leaning in to capture your lips. He can taste your salty tears through the kiss.

“P-please,” you struggle to breathe, blurry eyes settling on the Demon Prince as he sits back—snapping his cock inside of you particularly hard. “Please.”

“Please what?” Diavolo asks, golden eyes soaking in the sight of you absolutely falling apart for him.

“Please…,” you repeat, voice trailing off. You’ve been so adamant about your inability to orgasm again, but now—with Diavolo thrusting into you, and Barbatos’ fingers working at your clit—you’re once again on the edge of release. You sob, the sound broken.

“Please let me cum.”

Diavolo grins handsomely.

“Cum for me, Y/N.”

And you’re helpless to obey, your body spasming as your third and final orgasm of the night tears through you. Your chest heaves—struggling to take in air as Diavolo fucks you through your pleasure—chasing his own bliss.

Thankfully, he comes only a few seconds behind you—seating his length fully inside of you, and stuffing you to the brim as he spills his seed between your sopping walls. The sound of ragged breathing fills the room.

You fade out of consciousness for a moment.

“You did so well, taking Lord Diavolo,” Barbatos whispers into your hair, bringing you back into reality. He presses a soft kiss to your head. You whimper at his words, exhausted, and craving more praise and comfort.

Knowing that you need to be released from the suspension, Diavolo finally pulls his softening cock from inside of you. Immediately, his cum is slipping from your used heat—dripping down your pussy, and even onto the floor at your feet.

“Barbatos,” Diavolo speaks, taking a step back. The butler nods, swiftly moving to unravel the spool of rope secured above the mantle. Soon, you find yourself on the floor, both Diavolo and Barbatos working to undo the many intricate knots and ties.

It takes a few minutes—you whining and begging for affection the entire time—but finally the two free you from your bindings. As you move your limbs around, you can feel blood rushing back into certain areas of your body.

You’re definitely going to be sore tomorrow. For many reasons.

“You did beautifully,” Diavolo whispers as he scoops you into his arms. He moves to settle on the couch, cradling you in his lap. He brushes a few stray hands of hair out of your face, smiling when you reach up and cup his cheeks—tugging him into a kiss.

“I’m seeing many new sides of you today,” he remarks with a chuckle. You lean back, tiredly pouting at him.

“Well, this is the first time I’ve been fully tied up, suspended, and fucked by both a Demon Prince, and his butler, so.”

“That would explain it.”

He grins wider, a fond look in his eyes as he dips down to press a kiss to your forehead. As he does so Barbatos kneels at your side. There’s a pleasant smile on his face, his now-gloved hands gingerly trailing against your legs—dipping into the shallow marks left by the rope.

“How are you feeling?” he questions. His voice is tender, full of concern.

“I’m okay,” you say. “Sore, and tired, but…I feel good.” You extend your arm—fingertips trailing against his jaw. Barbatos leans into the feeling, cupping your hand with his own. “Thank you both for taking such good care of me. Even though you may have exerted yourselves more, rather than relaxing tonight, like I was hoping you would do…”

“I can’t speak for Barbatos, but personally, I feel much better now,” Diavolo pipes up. The butler nods in agreement, turning his head to press a kiss to your palm.

“Yes, I agree. I feel quite relaxed.”

You roll your eyes at them, breathing a laugh.

“If you say so.”

The royals share a laugh as well.

“You need to rehydrate. Shall I fetch us some beverages?”

“If you wouldn’t mind, Barbatos. It’s unfortunate we’re out of tea.”

The butler presses to his feet, bowing minutely. “It is. I will be sure to restock the pantry soon.”

He turns, heading towards the door, but your voice stops him.

“Wait--,” you speak, noting a clock on the wall nearby. It’s already past 11. “—It’s getting late. I don’t want to take more of your time. I know you still have a busy schedule tomorrow.”

“I would think that Lucifer and his brothers will be concerned, should you return home in your current state,” Barbatos comments, and you pause, glancing down at yourself. You’re covered in rope markings all over your body, not to mention the hickies and bite marks now littering your neck. On top of that, you’re still not even sure if you can properly move on your own, let alone walk.

“I…”

“I was going to ask you to stay with us,” Diavolo pipes up, smiling at you. “If you don’t mind sharing the bed, I’d prefer to have you close tonight.”

Your cheeks heat up at his words, but you can’t deny how appealing it sounds—spending the night in Diavolo’s arms. Especially considering how he’d just ruined you.

“Okay,” you concede.

“Good!”

You gasp as Diavolo presses to his feet, still securely holding you in his arms. “In that case, please bring the beverages to my chambers, Barbatos.”

“Yes, My Lord.”

The butler then disappears from the room. Diavolo follows him out, but not before tossing a handily available blanket atop your naked form. Your grip at the soft fabric, pouting as you watch your cute dress get left behind on the messy, rope covered floor.

“My dress…”

“Barbatos will likely return and clean up before the night ends. I’m sure it will be returned to you by morning,” Diavolo reassures you. You curl your hand into the dark fabric of his shirt, glancing up at him.

“That’s still more work for him…”

“You need to stop worrying about us,” he scolds you, giving you a light squeeze. You knock your forehead against his chest.

“It’s hard. I want you both to stop being so busy.”

“Soon,” he reassures you with a chuckle, and you feel his lips press into the crown of your hair. “Then we’ll go back to having Sunday tea.”

Perfect.

That night, you pass out tucked against Diavolo’s broad chest, before Barbatos ever appears with the drinks. At some point, a wet cloth drags between your legs, and a straw is placed between your lips, but you’re too exhausted to remember anything more than that. All you know is that when you wake up the next morning, Diavolo is gone, your bladder is full, and there’s a note on the nightstand addressed to you.

It’s Barbatos’ handwriting.

Y/N,

Lord Diavolo would like to apologize for being unable to keep you company this morning. We promise to make it up to you at a later time.

Your dress, along with vitamins, and other health supplements that will help you should you be ailing from the excitement of last night, are at the foot of the bed.

Blinking, you look down and realize that indeed your dress is folded neatly at your feet--a small gift bag beside it. But there’s no way you’ll need such medicine, right?

Slowly, you press to your feet, and immediately groan. Yep, everything is sore. You’ve never felt so achy all over.

Lucifer is here for a meeting. He will walk you home at 9am, once it is finished. Please meet him at the front doors.

If there’s anything else you need, please let myself, or Lord Diavolo know.

- Barbatos

You note that your DDD has been conveniently placed on the nightstand beside the note.

Clicking the phone screen to life—you pause.

It’s already 8:50.

“Shit!”

You rush to prepare yourself—dressing haphazardly, and running through the halls of the castle in order to meet Lucifer on time. You arrive at the front doors to find him waiting for you. He cocks an eyebrow, gaze falling to your current outfit. You’re adorning the dress you’d worn the day before, but beneath it, you’re also wearing a white turtleneck.

How curious.

“…did you enjoy your stay?”

There’s an amused look on his face—one that tells you he won’t be fooled by whatever excuse you decide to try and come up with. So, you settle for giving him an honest response.

“I did.”

And you can’t wait until your next one.

#if u liked plz come yell at me uwu #om!#obey me #barbatos #diavolo #obey me smut #obey me fic #barbatos smut #diavolo smut #obey me swd #diavolo fic #barbatos fic #diavolo x reader #barbatos x reader

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hibiscusangel15 · 3 years

Text

Rumors

Day 22 Prompt: there’s been talk about us

Summary: Rumors chased after Ichigo and Rukia their entire lives. People liked to gossip about their appearances. About their statuses. It was always the trivial matters that rubbed others the wrong way.

And then came the rumors about the nature of their relationship. For Day 22 of @ichirukimonth 2021.

Rating: Gen/K

*Also crossposted to AO3 and FFN!

If you like my fic, please consider buying me a coffee!

We fear that which we cannot see.

“Hey, have you heard?”

“That Kurosaki kid—”

“Yes, that Kuchiki girl—”

“No way! A delinquent joining our class?”

“Of course that untalented recruit is a noble. It’s the Kuchiki influence. I thought so, too!”

Rumors chased after Ichigo and Rukia their entire lives. People liked to gossip about their appearances. About their statuses. It was always the trivial matters that rubbed others the wrong way.

And then came the rumors about the nature of their relationship. A bit surprising, to be sure, but not altogether unexpected, given how petty gossip hounds could be. Just another bored rumor passed along the mill that would eventually be forgotten and replaced with something new.

They both denied it as firmly as they could. It never satiated others’ nosy appetites for long.

All those rumors fell away when she was whisked back to Soul Society. They were the last thing on his mind when he and the others fought to rescue her. He’d forgotten about them completely until she and the other Shinigami showed up during the next semester, unannounced, and the rumors started up again.

It didn’t help that she was living with him now, either.

“What’s the deal with you and Rukia-chan anyway?” Isshin asked while helping his son with the dishes. The girls were having fun getting to know each other upstairs, so he figured he’d step in.

Ichigo threw him a peeved side-glance. “What do you mean? She already told you she has no money or relatives here to help her.”

“So you volunteered to take her in without a second thought, huh?”

“You expect me to let her fend for herself?” The defensive edge in his voice made Isshin pause.

He smiled as he took a dish from the rack to dry. “No, of course not. You’ve always been the type to stick your neck out for someone in need. Why do you think your mom and I named you Ichigo?”

Ichigo said nothing, just continued washing dishes. If one good thing could be said about his punk of a son, it was the fact that he never flaunted his inner strength.

“You’ve never really had many friends growing up. For the longest time, the only friend you had was Tatsuki-chan and then Chad. Everyone else was too scared to try and talk to you. So I’m glad you’re putting yourself out there this year and making a bunch of new friends, Ichigo.”

His son’s face softened.

“That being said, you never answered my question, my son.” Isshin’s eyes sparkled with a single-minded pursuit. “Could it be you don’t trust me enough to tell me the truth? Or is it that you're too shy?”

That all-too-familiar scowl returned to Ichigo’s face. “What the hell’re you talking about, Dad?”

“There you go, dodging the question again! I’m talking about Rukia-chan! Is she, y’know, your girlfriend?”

“My...girlfriend?” A dish slipped from Ichigo's grasp and shattered into pieces.

“Aw crap!” he swore, stooping to the floor. “Sorry, Dad!”

Before he could reach for the largest piece, Isshin gently pushed his son's hands away. “Let me handle this, Ichigo. I don’t want you hurting yourself. Go get the trash can.”

“Dad, it’s no trouble. I can get it.”

Isshin paused. “To be honest with you, son, my joints ain’t as spry as they used to be. I probably can’t get up right now even if I wanted to.”

“Oh, what? You’re such an old man,” Ichigo said as he pushed himself up.

At that moment, Isshin slipped a small pill into his mouth. Urahara’s gigai tech might have been impressive when he was first gifted the thing, but damn was it getting more and more unresponsive as he got older.

After Ichigo cleared the shards away, Isshin let his son finish washing the dishes. It was the easiest way to trap him there, at any rate.

“Anyway,” he began again, “what is Rukia-chan to you?”

His son hesitated, brown eyes darting around as if he could pull some bullshit excuse from the murky dishwater.

He covered it up with yet another scowl. “We’re just friends. Sorry to disappoint you and Yuzu.”

“Aw, c’mon, Ichigo! Your sister and I are just curious!”

“You guys are way too keen about my nonexistent love life. Why don’t you two get lives of your own?”

“You kids might not understand this since you’re so young, but when you become a parent, your life revolves around your kids! That means your life is my life, too!” Isshin clenched his fist. “So c’mon, Ichigo! Tell me everything! Don’t be shy!”

“I’m not being shy. Quit bugging me.”

“Oh?” Isshin’s eyes gleamed. “Only a truly shy man would be so cold! Come now, my son! Confess your deepest, darkest secrets to your father!”

As soon as he tried to embrace his son, all turned black as his face rammed right into Ichigo’s elbow.

* * *

The girls upstairs heard a loud crash and Ichigo’s infuriated cursing.

Karin frowned at the floor. “There they go again. God, it’s so exhausting living with them. Sorry, you’re just going to have to deal with them for the time being.”

Rukia slapped on an innocent smile. “Oh, I don’t mind! I think a lively household is kind of fun!”

Another crash thundered through the house as the two men continued brawling away. Karin sighed. “Fun, huh?”

“I just hope they remember to clean up after themselves! I’d hate to clean the kitchen again when I already did it last weekend!” Yuzu said.

Rukia had heard their muffled fighting before when she hid in Ichigo’s closet. To actually bear witness to the Kurosaki family’s antics was another matter entirely. Compared to the piercing silence of the Kuchiki household, this was a much more comforting change of pace.

“Now don’t take this the wrong way, Rukia-chan.” Yuzu fidgeted on her bed . “But…um….”

Karin tilted her head back with a loud sigh. “She wants to know if you and our stupid brother are dating.”

“Karin!” Yuzu shouted, scandalized.

“It’s what you wanted to ask her since she arrived, right?”

“Dating?” Rukia repeated. “No, we’re just friends!”

“Just friends, huh?” Karin muttered.

“Yes, of course.”

“So you say.”

“Karin!”

“I’m just saying it’d be way more interesting if all this was some elaborate ruse for Ichigo to introduce his girlfriend to the family is all.” She flopped back onto her bed, letting her legs swing freely over the edge.

“That certainly would be more interesting, I suppose,” Rukia conceded. “Unfortunately, that’s not true. No offense to your brother, but he’s too honest to think of doing something like that.”

The three paused when Ichigo’s booming sneeze echoed up to them from downstairs.

Karin smirked. “Friend, girlfriend. It’s all the same to me, I guess.” She pointed a finger at Rukia. “You and I might get along swimmingly once you drop that nice-girl act and be yourself, though.”

Rukia blinked. And here she thought her human girl schtick would work here, too.

The smile that crossed her lips was softer, more natural this time. “You and your brother have the same instincts, I see.”

“I’d say I’m better at reading people than he is. He’s a big dope.” Karin waved dismissively.

Yuzu’s warm smile grew. “Whether you’re just friends with Ichi-nii or something more, I’m still glad to have you in our home, Rukia-chan! It’s nice to have more girls in the house for once!”

Rukia dipped her head. “I’m grateful that you’re letting me stay here without questioning my motives. I hope I won’t be a burden to any of you.”

“If you can keep my brother and my dad in line, you’d be more of a help than a hindrance,” Karin said. “Anyway, Yuzu tends to snore and fuss in her sleep, so I hope you can deal with that, too.”

Yuzu flushed and threw a pillow at her sister’s bed. “Karin! I don’t snore!”

Siblings showed the oddest resemblances to one another from time to time. Karin's teasing grin was so much like her brother's that it made Rukia smile in return. Ichigo then barged into the room and plunked himself on the edge of her bed to hang out with them. They all talked about their day and mocked each other in that special way only siblings could. It was warm and exasperatedly caring.

All those silly rumors that once passed around Karakura High about her and Ichigo dating would definitely escalate if anyone saw her living with him. It didn’t matter to her either way.

For once, she'd found a place where she didn’t have to worry about being judged. Rukia could dare to be happy. She dared to relax and laugh along with them. The Kurosaki family treated her like she belonged, and that was enough.

* * *

“Wait, they live together? Are you sure?”

“Of course! Kojima-san went to their house the other day to bring Kurosaki all the homework he missed, and he told me that Kuchiki-san was the one who answered the door! And she took it from him on his behalf! Like she was his girlfriend or something!”

“No way someone as pretty as her would be shacking up with a guy like that, right?”

“I don’t know. You remember how she climbed in through the third-story window and kicked him in the face and smacked him around? If anything, I feel sorry for Kurosaki.”

Now those rumors couldn’t be helped either. Rukia needed somewhere to stay, and like a little pest, she wormed her way into Ichigo's home and his everyday life. And with his month-long Vizard training going on, he wasn’t exactly around to put a stop to them.

The rumors really started to get out of hand once Ichigo, his friends, and all those weird kids who joined in the middle of the semester disappeared at the same time. No one knew where they went, or if they were even alive.

Some theorized that they had all dropped out to form a street gang. Others proposed the idea that Kurosaki and Kuchiki-san had eloped and invited all their friends to the wedding. All of which were extremely ridiculous, but who was to prove them wrong? Certainly not the subjects of the rumors themselves.

Oddly enough, both Asano and Kojima were the first to dismiss any rumors they heard. They seemed less enthusiastic about it, like their friend’s love life was no longer a fun puzzle to work out. They hung a lot more around Arisawa, who was equally morose and exhausted with it all.

Of course, this only fueled the wild rumors further. Perhaps they were bummed out that they weren’t included in whatever escapades Kurosaki and his other friends got involved with.

Then Kurosaki returned. Without any of those weird friends of his. Without that odd Kuchiki girl by his side.

Kurosaki Ichigo became a recluse, even among those he once called friends.

Perhaps they’d broken up. Maybe she had to move away.

The mystique of their relationship died down pretty quickly after that.

It was not until May of their final year of high school did rumors about Kuchiki Rukia returning circulate around the school. Someone claimed to have seen her hanging around Karakura again. With how eagerly Kurosaki cancelled the rest of his sports team contracts to leave school earlier, it seemed more and more plausible.

Inoue Orihime’s own confirmation that the Kuchiki girl was indeed back only fueled the flames. Apparently, Kuchiki Rukia and all the new kids had to move far away all of a sudden. No, they weren’t all a weird family. No, she would not return to Karakura High.

As for the rumor covering Kuchiki Rukia and Kurosaki Ichigo’s relationship status, Inoue, Arisawa, and Kojima were all tight-lipped on the matter. Despite their best efforts, Asano Keigo was not all that great at keeping secrets, and it only took a bit of pressure for him to crack.

“No, they’re not dating! Can you believe that?” he’d screech at anyone who would listen. “I swear, I’ve tried so hard to hook them up, but nothing I do works! Tell me, what’s a guy gotta do to help his dumbass friend score, huh?”

* * *

Rukia was in the middle of writing up a report when Ichigo decided to show up for an impromptu visit. Admittedly, it was nice catching up with him, but it did wreck her entire work schedule for the day.

Well, perhaps wreck wasn’t the right word for it. She didn’t mind his company. She just normally finished up faster than this.

The odd look her brother threw her when she requested that they be left alone put her off. It did not help that she had flushed when Renji raised a tattooed eyebrow at her before he left, nor the fact that the servants hushed their giggles when Ichigo looked over his shoulder at them.

“Hey, is something going on around here?” he asked after catching the latest servant stifling a smile as she passed. “The servants have been whispering to each other all day.”

That’s because you decided to barge in so blatantly like you live here, you fool, she wanted to say.

Rukia shrugged affectedly. “People like to talk.”

About us, to be precise.

Ichigo scoffed. “People are always talking about me like I’m some kind of freak because of my hair. I’ve never cared all that much about gossip. It’s all bullshit anyway.”

She set her brush down on the inkstone. “I see. You too, huh?”

“Too?” he repeated, finally looking over at her.

“You heard Nii-sama explain why I was adopted into the Kuchiki clan, correct?” She took his silence as a yes. “The Kuchiki name is a prestigious one, but that notoriety does not come without its costs. The moment I was adopted, I was immediately placed in Squad Thirteen despite never having graduated from the Shinigami Academy. I was deemed a product of nepotism, and the other squad members hated me for it.”

Rukia shut her eyes. The memory of Kaien’s warmth flickered in the back of her mind. That would be a story for another day.

“It may seem ridiculous to you, how such a thing could hurt me.” Her smile did not reach her eyes.

He shook his head. “It’s not ridiculous, Rukia. What’s ridiculous is all the stuff people assumed about you. They don’t even know you.”

“No,” she said. “But even worthless rumors can start to take their toll once enough of them build up.”

“Oh yeah? Well, I’m gonna change that.”

Her smile fell. “How so?”

“We’re friends,” Ichigo said without any hesitation whatsoever. “So anyone who talks shit about you gets the business end of my sword.”

“A little extreme, don’t you think?”

Ichigo snorted but said nothing else.

To alleviate the tension brewing around him, she teased, “And what rumors about yourself have you heard lately? I’ve heard quite a lot. I’ve even been asked to confirm a few, on occasion.”

“Yeah? Like what?”

Rukia turned the various rumors over in her mind, struggling to find the best way to spin it. A joke perhaps? Could he laugh off something like this?

No, Ichigo would probably get embarrassed and storm off to find the cretin who started these unsavory rumors in the first place. She would assume such talk was unbefitting of those who served in the Thirteen Court Guard Squads, but apparently she was mistaken.

“Nothing much. Petty gossip.” She continued writing her report as if such matters didn’t concern her at all. “About you and I, mostly. What we are to each other.”

Ichigo scowled. “Not this again.”

“Unfortunately, yes.”

“It’s like people don’t have anything else to do with their lives. Stop trying to live vicariously through us already.”

Rukia paused. “Live vicariously?”

“Yeah, it’s like when people try to experience stuff through—”

“No, I know what it means. But what did you mean by that?”

The moment he met her eyes, she understood. There was a frantic, helpless gleam to them, but even so, he did not dare look away.

It was not a challenge, but more a question. It was a plea. His confession.

“Oh. I see.”

“Look, I wasn’t trying to…. I mean, it’s not…. This wasn’t the way that I wanted to….”

Ichigo put his head in his hands and took a deep breath. When he finally sat up straight again, he looked her right in the eye. “Rukia, do you want to go out with me?”

“Oh?” She leaned her head in a hand, the corner of her mouth tugging up. “Are you sure you want to prove those rumormongers right?”

He scowled. “This isn't about them! I told you, I don’t give a shit about what other people think. It wasn’t the rumors that made me like you.”

“What a bold thing to admit.” She covered her mouth in mock surprise.

“Ugh, shut up! It’s hard enough to say as it is.”

Rukia began to laugh. “You’re so strange, Ichigo. I like that about you, though.”

He tried and failed to hide how red his face had become. “Don’t make fun of me.”

“I’m not.” Her smile became more genuine then as she reached her hand out to his. “I am happy you asked. Although, I hope you know that it is uncouth of you to drop in on a woman unannounced. According to what I read about courting in the World of the Living, it is also customary to have a chaperone along with us on our dates.”

“Yeah, that’s been outdated for centuries now. What the hell kind of books are you even reading?” he scoffed.

“How rude! And here I was, excited to ask Nii-sama to accompany us for our first date!”

“What? Don’t bring Byakuya into this!”

Their silly bickering echoed all throughout the courtyard. Even still, they did not let go of the other's hand.

* * *

"Hey, have you heard?"

"That Substitute Shinigami and Lieutenant Kuchiki are dating?"

"Why is this news? Weren't they already a couple?"

"Ah, I see! So I was right all along."

Years and years of speculation, only to have the confession be far more mundane than they hoped.

The funny thing about rumors was, once they were confirmed, they lost their appeal extremely quickly.

Another rumor soon came to take its place.

"Kurosaki Ichigo is a noble? No way!"

"Sure, he looks a lot like Lieutenant Shiba, but isn't he just a human?"

"You sure he didn't just marry into the Kuchiki family?"

And so it goes. And so the rumors circled back once again.

If you can say that your heart doesn't change

Then that is strength.

No, nothing can change my world.

The only time a petty rumor is actually one hundred percent true lol. But I mean, it's not hard to disprove with the way they're always looking at each other.

I suppose this fic can kind of fit in the same AU as Home and Clearing Away the Rain. Maybe consider it a prequel of sorts, if you like!

Thanks for reading! Until next time!

#IRMonth2021 #Day 22: there's been talk about us #Ichiruki #OTP: Black Sun and White Moon #Kurosaki Ichigo #Kuchiki Rukia #Kurosaki Isshin #Kurosaki Karin #Kurosaki Yuzu #Bleach #my fanfiction

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dani-escribe · 3 years

Text

A Place To Call Home

Chapter 1

Pairing: Marcus Pike x F! Reader

Wordcount: 1,594

Summary: Who would have known that a day at the art museum could lead to meeting an extremely handsome FBI Agent ;)

Warnings: An incredible amount of fluff (seriously, like cotton candy level). SLOW BURN (buckle up for the ride!). Reader is a pediatric nurse, so a few mentions of kids and medical procedures in later chapters.

A/N: Thanks so much for reading and I really hope you like it! This is my comeback into writing and I am honestly so excited to keep writing this series. After watching the Mentalist and seeing how it ended I wanted to give our precious Marcus a happy ending (this is totally self-indulgent bc why not!). I want to thank @lowlights @fastandfeminist @wbl75 for being my beta readers and for all of their support. Anyways, I hope you enjoy! :)

Read here on ao3

You didn't know what possessed you to go visit the art museum on a rainy Wednesday afternoon, but you’re sure glad you went. You hadn't really had time to go to many museums in the last couple of years and wanted to really take in the experience. You’d been walking around looking at all of the intricate paintings and reading the descriptions of each one to try to understand what they were about when you saw a man that fit right in with the artwork. His pensive stance and deep brown eyes drew you in right away.

He was reading the description of the painting in front of him. He let out a short stifled laugh as if he knew something more about the painting that wasn't included in the description. The grey suit and black tie he was wearing made you wonder if he might be here on a date with someone or if he worked here. You were truly hoping that it was the latter of the two.

When you noticed that you had been staring at him for a creepy amount of time, you started to turn away, and in that exact moment he seemed to catch your eye. The way that he smiled made it seem like the world stopped for a short second. Before your flirty gaze turned into an awkward stare, you gave him a smile back and retreated to look at other artwork.

Walking around the other exhibits and looking at the sculptures and canvases from different time periods you began to think about all the wonders that you missed moving around as a kid. Your parents were teachers/potters and their jobs came with the occasional relocation to different places. They said that while teaching was their passion, ceramics had been their first true love. This meant that while you were usually in a stable place for a few years, during summer you and your sibling moved around with them to sell their art in different fairs. While you had seen and sold a lot of different types of art over the years, you never really had much time to appreciate it.

Your parents had been incredible in providing for you, and had only moved to ensure you had the best opportunities; but you always wondered about the experiences that you missed while being in a hurry to assimilate for half of your life. You knew that their teaching jobs didn't pay much, and that they used the money they got from their art to help cover the bills. This is why you had decided to move close to your family after starting a job at a local hospital in order to find a permanent place for yourself, a place that you could call home.

After making sure to see all of the exhibits at least once, you walked out of the museum with a sense of satisfaction: one, because you felt like you were catching up on lost time, and two, because of the interaction that you had had with a handsome stranger.

One of the best things was that the drive back to your new apartment from the museum, and pretty much everything else, was only about 5 minutes (10 if you counted traffic during rush hour). This also meant that everything was within walkable distance, which was also good because you sure as hell needed to start buying some supplies if you were going to clean up the pile of unpacked boxes at your new apartment.

As the night went on you were able to get most of your unpacking done, and you thought back to the stranger with those big brown eyes and gorgeous smile. He had a kind smile, one that made you feel like you could trust him, which was rare in a man you had just met. God, not only that but the suit that he had on made him seem like he was straight out of a James Bond movie. While putting away the last of your clothing, the blue scrubs that you had bought for your new job fell from the pile that you were carrying. This was enough to snap you out of your train of thought. You really needed to focus on thinking about that instead of daydreaming about a person you haven't even talked to, even if he had some of the cutest dimples you had seen. After trying to get him out of your thoughts unsuccessfully, you figured that it was either stressing about your new job or thinking about him. Ultimately you decided that a little daydreaming couldn't hurt too much. You wondered if you would ever see him again, and hoped that by some twist of fate you would.

---

With your job starting today you figured it would be a sign of good comradery to bring your new coworkers some coffee from the cute diner down the street. Also, you found social interactions to be quite tricky at first and an ice breaker couldn't seem to hurt. Plus who doesn't like free breakfast, especially on a Monday morning right?

As you got dressed in your blue scrubs you headed for the door a whole hour early to avoid being late and to try to make a good impression. Making sure to note as you entered the diner to grab some scones or muffins for those who don’t like coffee, you accidentally stumbled into the man exiting with his coffee. The splash drenched his tie and shirt, only leaving his pants unscathed. Starting to profusely apologize and grabbing a handful of napkins to clean up the mess, you almost missed the fact that the brown eyes that were looking at you right now were the same ones that had held your gaze in the museum.

“I am so sorry, I can totally pay for your dry cleaning,” you gasped, both out of embarrassment and amazement that you were seeing the gorgeous stranger that had plagued your mind for the past couple of days.

“No worries at all. I actually needed an excuse to get out of wearing this tie that I got as a gift last year, so to think of it you really saved me,” he let out a chuckle. Now that you're looking at it, it is a very… bold choice of clothing. It was a striped neon tie with pink and orange interchanging lines.

“I got it as an office exchange party gift and now have the perfect excuse to change out of it.” Those killer dimples were showing along with the smile he gave you that helped to put you at ease.

“Well at least let me replace your coffee,” you said with a laugh at his honesty.

You went back inside to pay for his and your coffee orders and got to talking a bit before your orders were out.

“So what brings you around here, besides the coffee of course. I haven't really seen you here before,” he stated as he moved slightly closer to hear your answer over the clinking of cutlery and dishes.

“Oh I actually just moved near here. I’m starting today at the nearby hospital as a pediatric nurse. ” His proximity made you suddenly aware of how tall he was. He had at least a few good inches on you, and he leaned in to listen when you spoke. This didn’t help with your already flustered state to say the least.

“That sounds really exciting, congrats! The closest I get with kids at my job is the ones on an oil painting,” his eyes crinkled a bit as he laughed.

“Yeah, I totally understand. Little kids are such a wonder but working with them is not for everyone,” you chimed in with a bit of a laugh “Are you a curator then, is that why you were at the museum the other day?” You asked with a hope that he hadn't been there with anyone as a date.

“Oh no, I actually work with the FBI. I’m in the art crimes division. I was doing research on a new case which is why I was down in the museum. Some inspiration never hurts.” Now it was your turn to be amazed. You didn’t actually think he would be an agent like James Bond, but you weren’t complaining.

“I guess it doesn't hurt that it's really close to here too huh.” You added noting that it was a bit serendipitous to have met him twice in a few days within the same five mile radius.

Just as you were about to say something else your name was called and your orders came out. When you were about to turn to leave he called to you.

“I never did get your name,” he noted before heading out.

You told him your name and he repeated it in a way that made it seem like he was trying it out.

“And I feel like the least I can do is learn the name of the person who I so viciously attacked with a coffee cup.” You stated as you gave him a sheepish smile.

He let out a short laugh and replied, “The name of the person who you saved from having to continue wearing a highlighter tie is Marcus.” You shook your head at his joke and turned to leave.

As you grabbed the door handle you took one last look back and said “hope to see you around, Marcus.” You waved and parted ways to head in for your first day of work.

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #marcus pike #marcus pike x reader #marcus pike fic #marcus pike x f!reader #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfiction

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carpsurprise · 3 years

Text

sam stans i come.. bearing a gift.. sooo..

plot: the farmer teaches sam how to plant flowers, despite his clumsy nature

word count: 1.9k

notes: once again, gn!farmer. this is.. way more than i usually write but i felt particularly inspired... and we all know i love sam, put under a read more bc it is a little long. i’m also posting this on ao3! don’t be surprised if another sam writing comes up soon...

A quiet sigh left the farmer’s mouth, their eyes focusing on Sam’s clumsy, gloved hands handling the delicate flowers. He tipped the young flowers from their nursery containers with care, mindful of the placement of his fingers against the dirt and the positions of the leaves. The empty nursery container was thrown haphazardly on the ground, making the farmer’s eyebrow quirk for just a moment before returning their attention back to Sam. With the young flower held in both of his hands, he shot the farmer a nervous glance.

“Heh,” he chuckled, heat starting to creep up the back of his neck, “thought you bought seeds from Pierre? I didn’t think you’d plant already blooming flowers.”

The farmer shrugged. “They’re still nice. Besides, those are more for decoration than anything— and you asked me to teach you to plant flowers, didn’t you? Teaching you to plant a seed would take a moment.”

“I guess so,” he muttered, still nervously holding the formed potting soil. “Now what do I do, stick it in the ground?”

“You could, or,” the farmer held Sam’s hands gently, allowing him to hear his own heartbeat in his head. The farmer helped support the stem of the plant, gently kneading their thumb and the inside of their pointer finger along the potting soil. The roots of the plant had finally appeared in a jumbled mess. “See, you want to spread out the roots a little so it can get water easier.”

Sam nodded with a dry swallow, watching the farmer’s eyes focus intently on the roots of the flower. They continued, “You want to be super careful, though, they’re very delicate. Just a gentle little touch will be good to separate them out.”

A few clumps of dirt had fallen from the plant, landing on Sam’s lap and rolling off his thighs back to the earth. The farmer didn’t seem to mind the dirt that covered their legs. He directed his focus back to the flowers in front of him, and off of the farmer’s legs. Sam mirrored the farmer’s actions with his own gloved thumb, trying to smooth out the roots as gently as his clumsy hands would allow. It was funny, he thought, that he could master guitar strings flawlessly, but at a moment of tender precision he seemed to become nervous.

“Mm, that’s good!” The farmer exclaimed, slowly retracting their hands from Sam’s. “Now gently place the flower into the hole we made,” they directed, holding the sides of the parted dirt as Sam lowered the new flower into its forever home. He let go of it with slow hands, helping the farmer pat the parted dirt into the open sides with one hand. Sam let out a breath, retracting himself from the planter box.

The farmer let out a breathy chuckle, moving their trowel to their side. “This is usually relaxing for people.”

“I know.”

“You said you wanted to learn how to plant stuff because of your mom, right?”

Sam groaned, feeling himself get caught up in his own lie. “Yeah. I think it’d make her happy to know I learned, for some reason. I’m afraid she doesn’t think what I do for myself is very… useful.”

“But you’re a wonderful guitar player,” the farmer cried, turning their body to him, “and a wonderful song writer. You’ve got more talent than most in the valley, especially when it comes to music,” they smiled, making Sam’s heart skip a beat.

This is why he came to the farmer in a full sweat, red face, and nervous hands asking them to teach him how to garden.

He grinned, instinctively moving his hand to scratch at the base of his neck. “Thanks, it means a lot—,” he interrupted himself with a startled gasp, feeling the remains of dirt on his gardening glove slip down his spine. He quickly pulled his hand from his neck, looking accusingly at the dirty, green and yellow gardening glove he had forgotten he was still wearing.

The farmer laughed at his mistake innocently, their shoulders shaking with them. It was charming for Sam, yet felt himself still chilled by the quick surprise of things running down his back. “I’ve forgotten I was wearing my gloves many, many times,” they laughed, “It sorta just feels like normal after a while.

Lifting their hands, also still gloved, they flipped them from the palm to the back of the hand. Sam admired the size of their hands, and the obvious wear and tear of the daily work they do written all over the gloves.

“Need to get a new pair,” they muttered.

Sam had lit up, splaying his dirty gloves across his jeans without thought. “Oh! Let me buy you a new pair then, you know,” he began to fluster again. He stuttered out his response, weary of making his affections known too soon, “to thank you for teaching me how to do this.”

“Sam, you don’t have to do that. I had a lot of fun! Besides, I needed to do this anyway.”

Sam shook his head, grabbing one of their gloved hands. “No, no, please let me, and then I can get a pair that matches!”

The farmer was silent.

“... If that’s alright with you?”

The farmer snapped out of their little daze from his words, nodding and then reassuring him. Accepting his offer of new gloves, they promised to stick with the pair they have now until Sam came to the farmhouse with his gift. “Oh, Sam, before you leave can you bring home a potted plant for your mother? I’d like to thank her for the fertilizers she’s been sending me.”

He nodded. “Yeah, totally. She’d love that.”

Jumping up from their position, the farmer ran over to the side of their house, sifting through gardening tools and empty containers. They pulled out a weathered, but nice small pot. Sam watched as they dragged their hose out, rinsing the dust and dirt off of it before bringing it back over. “Here! I have no clue where this came from, but it’s nice and pretty.”

Sam agreed, immediately taking the trowel and shoveling dirt into it. “Ah, remember, Sam! Not too much dirt yet, we don’t want the roots exposed,” they instructed, causing him to quickly shovel out a little bit of dirt. He pushed the dirt to the sides of the pot, looking at the farmer expectedly. The grin on their face had made him nervous.

“You do it, Sam. I need to make sure you know how to do this, and I think Jodi will like it a lot more if you potted it. It can be a gift from the both of us.”

His fear of failure had returned to the center of his chest. Without another word he began to focus on the steadiness of his hands, removing the next flower from the container and carefully holding it with one hand. The plant had seemed bigger when next to the others, but in his large hand it was evident it was still growing. His thumb and forefinger gently massaged the end of the dirt, staying mindful of the few roots poking out.

Feeling the farmer’s eyes upon his hands had made his heart pick up once again. He had always loved their eyes, especially when the sun hit them just right to show the beautiful color of— a slight crunch was heard. His right hand had immediately left the plant’s roots.

The farmer laughed gently, placing a hand onto Sam’s arm. “It’s okay, it’s okay. Just try to be more gentle. It doesn’t look like you’ve pulled any roots out… completely. Just focus on the roots and your hands, don’t think about anything else.”

Easy for the farmer, he thought. Trying to keep his mind from racing back to them (who had seemed to scoot a little closer to him when he was focused on the roots, now that he was thinking about it), he continued to softly spread the delicate roots of the azaleas, looking to the farmer to see if that was sufficient. The farmer nodded silently, a kind smile on their face to encourage Sam. He placed the small flowers into the pot, still holding the stems gently with his left hand and using his right to pack in enough dirt to keep it steady.

He sat back on his heels, admiring the bright pink of the flowers and the white flower pot with baby pink swirls just around the rim. He had, once again, unknowingly placed his dirty gloves onto his jeans. He was expecting Jodi to be upset with him as soon as he enters the front door, but hopefully, with this flower pot in hand, she’ll excuse his messy day out.

“See? You did amazing!” The farmer praised, fluffing out the flowers by the stems.

Their praise had made Sam’s fleeting worries of his mother dissipate, causing him to turn to them with a teasing look. “Yeah, except for the part where I nearly destroyed the roots of the poor thing.”

Shrugging, the farmer got back to their feet and lifted the pot with a grunt. “It’s fine, you did great anyway. Like everything else, it takes practice.”

They grabbed another bag, along with their watering can and returned to Sam’s side. They watered the flowers immediately, then cut open the bag of mulch and placed a thin layer over the wet dirt. Sam watched without question, watching their hands work around the plant and dirt effortlessly. The farmer’s moves seemed calculated, the only way Sam could relate or keep up was by comparing it to the movement of hands on guitar strings, knowing when to use gentle touch or a moment of pressure.

They pulled back, swiping the palms of their hands together to brush off any loose dirt from their gloves. Sam should’ve been doing that the whole time. “Finishing touches are done! She’s already to head to your house, Sam,” they stood up once more, hoisting the pot up into their arms and ready to hand off to Sam.

“Make sure it’s watered when the soil feels dry; and it can’t be in the sun all of the time, it likes some shade sometimes. The pot is sorta big so it’ll grow a little, but once it kinda grows out some of the leaves and flowers may start dying. Just pluck or cut those off and it’ll grow back.”

Sam nodded slowly, trying to repeat the farmer’s instructions back to himself in an attempt to not forget them. He knew the attempt was futile, but found that with every gray cloud there is a silver lining: he can always come back to see the farmer, just to ask for it again. He gave a nervous giggle, awkwardly trying to hold the gift for his mother.

“Please tell Jodi I said thank you, it means a lot to have help from the community.”

“Well, uh, if you ever need any help don’t hesitate to ask. I’m always here for you,” Sam said sheepishly, almost immediately regretting not omitting his last sentence.

The farmer grinned, waving goodbye to him. “I know you are, and thank you, too.”

He smiled back at them, saying his goodbye and heading back down the dirt path to town, praying that no one would see him struggling with the giant pot of azaleas, potted by him, for his mother.

#stardew valley #sam stardew valley #sam #sam stans i hope this makes u happy <3

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f0xfordcomma · 3 years

Text

re:union (kataang week 2021) DAY SEVEN

prompt: the sea and the sky

re:union

chapter seven: reunions

rating: T

words: 2529

summary: "He had fought hard for this unity. Had spent countless hours in courtrooms and offices arguing with dignitaries and representatives about the benefits of a United Republic. He had spent long nights drafting up documents and looking over contracts. He had dreamed of finally seeing this day, finally seeing this unity. All he could see tonight though, was a yellow flower drifting around the crowded room on an intricately braided head of ochre hair."

read it on ao3

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chapter seven: reunions

By the time Aang had handled Councilman Zhu’s dumpling crisis, he had lost track of Katara.

“She went to get changed for the feast,” a familiar, though deeper than he remembered, voice sounded from behind him.

“Sokka!”

“Hey buddy! It’s good to see you.”

They squeezed each other in a bone-crushing hug. The first one, Aang realized, he had gotten since his return. Aang held on a little harder at the thought.

“Where’s Suki?”

“Getting ready with the rest of the warriors. They are playing a special part in the performance tonight.”

“Wow! I can’t wait to see that!”

“Heh—yeah, me too.” Sokka’s voice went somewhere dreamy. “But, uh, I think it’ll be hard to watch with your head buried in my shoulder like this…”

“Oh right! Sorry… just happy to see you.”

“I missed you too buddy.” Sokka squeezed Aang’s shoulder reassuringly. “Now, you should go get ready! Can’t have the guest of honor stinking up the place tonight.”

“Guest of honor…” Aang grumbled, rolling his eyes in exasperation at Zhu’s exuberance. Still, he broke away from Sokka, giving him a nod as he made his way towards the room’s egress.

“Oh, and Aang?” called Sokka from near the food tables where he was stealing an hor’s d'oeuvre from under a cloche. “She’s not seeing anybody, in case you were wondering.”

Aang stopped still, his ears burned, his head swam. He hadn’t realized how much the question was plaguing him until he had heard it vocalized. She’s still single. There’s still time. He had let her go once, had regretted it every day since. She’s still single. He had no idea if she still wanted him the way he wanted her. But she’s still single. He resolved to try and change that fact by the end of the night.

He opened his mouth to speak but only a low whine came out. He cleared his throat but ended up coughing around the words as he forced them out. “I—is that… is that so?”

“It is.” Sokka snorted.

“That’s uh… thanks Sokka!” Aang shouted in salutation as he rushed out the door, needing to hide his burning blush and, as everyone had insisted, finally get cleaned up.

⬭

He wore a new set of robes. The pants dyed a dark amber with northern saffron. The belt and sash a sunny terra-cotta color that complimented the blue of his tattoos.

He surveyed his face in the mirror, taking in the scruff along his jawline, the tan around his temples, the laugh lines near his lips. He hadn’t spent much time looking at himself over the past few years, hadn’t had a mirror at any of the temples. The only time he would look at his reflection was when shaving his head, and even then, the refraction of the water made it difficult to examine his countenance with any detail.

Aang had never much minded the way that he looked--hadn’t had much use for vanity when living with the monks, hadn’t had much time for insecurity when running from the fire nation, hadn’t had much need for self-consciousness when being loved by Katara--he’d always thought his face was friendly enough, his body was strong enough. Something about looking at himself now though, fully a man, strong and steady and serene in a way that he’d never seen himself before, made his chest swell with confidence.

“I look good, huh buddy?” He directed the question to Momo, who had joined him in his room after an afternoon spent swooping around Cranefish City in search, no doubt, of sweets from strangers.

In reply, the lemur flew over to perch on his shoulder, scratching through the stubble on Aang’s chin with a squawk.

“You really think she’ll like it?” He scratched Momo between the ears and produced a plum from the pocket of his pants.

Momo took the fruit eagerly between his paws and greedily gobbled it down.

“Aw buddy, you flatter me.”

“Well babe,” a feminine voice dripping with thinly veiled amusement sounded from behind him, “it looks like we’ve officially lost him.”

“You’d think so, but he’s been talking to the lemur like that for as long as I’ve known him.”

“So what you’re telling me is, he has always been insane?”

“Pretty much.”

Aang’s face was beet red (he had lost count, at this point, as to how many times this had happened today) as he spun on his heel to face the Firelord and Firelady, who were standing in his doorway in their formal robes and appraising him with mirth-filled expressions.

“Uh, hey guys… how, uh… how long have you been standing there?”

“Oh, long enough, hot stuff.” Mai shot him a wry smile with a raised eyebrow before turning and pecking her husband on the cheek quickly as she took her leave. “I’m going to go make sure the kids are ready. We leave in ten, boys.”

Once Mai was out of earshot, Zuko burst into laughter and walked over to throw an arm around Aang. “Anything you want to talk about there, Aang?”

“Yeah! Why is it that I don’t see any of you for three whole years, and the first thing anyone does is tease me.”

“That’s not true! The first thing I did was put you on babysitting duty.”

“You’re not funny, Zuko.”

“Hey! Now who’s teasing whom?”

Aang scowled. Zuko, trying to school his face into a slightly more serious expression, straightened up and stalked a few paces across the small room.

“I’m going to give you some unsolicited advice because Uncle isn’t here to do it for me.” Zuko pantomimed stroking his beard and affected a strong accent that, ultimately, sounded nothing like Iroh. “Follow your heart.”

“Follow my heart? That’s it? No tea metaphors? No floral imagery? You make a pretty rotten Iroh, Zuko.”

“Hey, I tried.” Zuko shrugged. “I don’t know, man. You’re still in love with Katara, right?”

Aang flushed but nodded his head, eyes fixed on the floor.

“Are you going to do something about it?”

Aang met Zuko’s eyes determinedly and nodded again.

“Good. You’d better.”

“Thanks Zuko.”

“Any time. By the way? I agree with Momo, the beard really suits you.” At that, Zuko strode out of the room, chuckling softly to himself.

⬭

“So, Sugar Queen,” Toph plopped herself on Katara’s bed with a huff, swinging her bare feet up to rest on the adjacent wall so she could still feel what was happening. “You seemed pretty cozy with our Prodigal Son back there. Locked that down yet?”

“Toph!” Katara spluttered, pulling her paintbrush away from her lips.

“That’s a no, then?”

“Wha--no, not a… he just got back! And I don’t even know if… it’s none of your business, anyway.”

“Right, right. So you guys haven’t talked about your feelings, like, at all, yet? What the heck was all that flirting on the beach then?”

“What flirting? We were just hanging out. As friends! Being friendly! We were friends before we were ever anything else, Toph. You know that!”

“Uh huh, uh huh. Good point, Katara. Your definition of ‘friendly’ has always been a little bit off when it comes to Aang…”

“Toph! I will kick you out.”

“No, you won’t. Want to know why?”

“I have a feeling you’re going to tell me anyway.”

“You know me so well, Sweetness. And you aren’t going to kick me out because I know you very well and if I’m not here in, oh, seven minutes when you inevitably start second guessing yourself, to give you one of my patented Toph Beifong pep talks, you are going to freak out.”

Katara grumbled something crass under her breath and scowled at Toph’s reflection in the mirror, but ultimately, she knew her friend was right, so she obliged the company while she finished putting on her makeup.

Katara rarely wore makeup. It hadn’t really been a custom among the women in the Southern Water Tribe growing up, and during the war there hadn’t been time to worry over such trivialities. Afterwards, though, she had been the victim of many a makeover by Ty Lee. Had been the guest at many formal galas that required a bit of dressing up. Had been gifted a set of Kyoshi warrior paints by Suki. Had spent an afternoon wandering around the market in Caldera hunting down the exact right shade of lipstick with Mai and learning everything that she could possibly hope to know about knife maintenance.

Aang had always gotten incredibly flustered around her when she wore makeup. That was, perhaps, her favorite part of the process.

It had been years since she had put any makeup on her face. Her face was different now. Her eyes crinkled a bit at the corners when she smiled, her cheeks were less plump, more defined, her lips were fuller—perhaps the lipstick made her lips look too full? Perhaps it wasn’t the same color that she had used that one night in Omashu when Aang had ended up wearing more of it than she had? Perhaps she should wear something pinker? Redder? What had Mai said about skin undertones?

“You look fine.”

“You really think so, Toph?”

“No idea.” Toph deadpanned. “But I’m sure that even if you look like an armadillo-hog, Aang will still forget his own name when he sees you. That is your goal with the facepaint, right?”

“Uh…”

“Of course it is, don’t try to lie to me, Sweetness. Listen, I know two things: that boy’s heartbeat has always only ever been impacted by you, and a lot of other men have also had hammering heartbeats when they talk to you. Wanna know what that tells me? You ain’t ugly. In fact, I assume you’re pretty hot. So, chin up, shoulders back, let’s go get you your man back.”

Katara spluttered and blushed. “Oh… uh, okay.”

“You don’t sound confident yet. You are still in love with him, right?”

“Yes.” She whispered.

“Obviously. Then get your pretty little butt out of here and go do something about it. Chop chop, girly!” Toph, still laying on Katara’s bed, started snapping at her while she squared her shoulders in the mirror and gave herself one more once over, nodding at her reflection and resolving to talk to Aang as soon as she had the chance.

“Right. Okay. I can do this. Thank you, Toph.”

“That’s the spirit.”

“Aren’t you coming?”

“Eh, yeah… I told Yugi to meet me here so we can head over together. Or wait… was it Satoru? Toklo? I don’t know, some guy is picking me up. Can’t show up to a stuffy formal function without someone to talk to all the boring people for me, now can I?”

“You do know all of your friends are going to be there tonight, right?”

“I said what I said.”

Katara rolled her eyes as she hurried past Toph and prepared to leave. “Whatever, just lock up when you leave, okay? Mrs. Shao is out tonight so I’m the last one in the house.”

⬭

The ballroom was lavishly decorated. The colors of all four nations draped around the room in every detail. Tapestries hung on the walls with the new seal of Republic City, flanked on either side by the insignias of the four nations. The tables were lined with dishes from across the world. The floral arrangements featured regional blooms from all over. In a ballroom in a government building in a sleepy corner of the Earth Kingdom continent, the entire world was united in one beautiful display.

He had fought hard for this unity. Had spent countless hours in courtrooms and offices arguing with dignitaries and representatives about the benefits of a United Republic. He had spent long nights drafting up documents and looking over contracts. He had dreamed of finally seeing this day, finally seeing this unity. All he could see tonight though, was a yellow flower drifting around the crowded room on an intricately braided head of ochre hair.

From his seat onstage next to Zuko, he watched her make her way around the room hugging and smiling and laughing and chatting. Her sleeveless blue dress was modern but carried traditional nods to her water tribe roots. Her lips were a dark cherry red. Her hair was braided. He had braided it. A yellow flower sat at her crown and winked sunshine at him whenever she turned her head. She was beautiful. Of course, he already knew that. But she was beautiful.

“Aang? Hello… Aang??”

“Huh, what?” Aang was drawn from his stupor when Zuko nudged him with his elbow.

“You’re up.”

“Oh.”

Zhu introduced him. He somehow made a speech. There was roaring applause. Her eyes were blue, her lips were red, the flower was yellow. She was blushing.

He took his seat next to Zuko. Her eyes were blue . There were performances. Her lips were red . Suki shot finger guns at him in greeting as she and her warriors took the stage. The flower was yellow. Music started up and the gathered crowd dispersed to make way for dancing. She was blushing.

“Excuse me.” He rushed off-stage and into the crowd, chasing a glimpse of yellow in ochre, a swish of blue chiffon. She was pushing her way through the crowd, too. Her eyes were blue. “Katara, I--”

“Dance with me?”

She was offering him a hand. The tsungi horn rang out a familiar song. He took it. “Of course.”

They knew this dance by muscle memory. It was as familiar as their own names, as each other’s name. He flew around her in swirls. She swam around him on waves. They were the sea and the sky and there could not be one without the other. He lifted her, she spun around him. He dipped her, she glowed. She was the sun and he was the moon. She illuminated his sky. He compelled her tides.

The music ended. They were breathing heavy, faces inches apart, hearts still hammering the now silent drum beat.

“Can we go somewhere?”

⬭

The sound of the party flooded the streets of Republic City. Everyone seemed in good spirits, bustling about in a dance as they went about their evening errands. The cicada-crickets sang along to the Tsungi horn. The air was hot, heavy with humidity. They watched the waves from a rooftop. Their hands were intertwined.

Out across the bay, the sea and the sky collided in a canvas of colors. The green and yellow and red and orange of twilight reflected on the water’s dusky blue blue blue. The colors blurred together, obscuring the horizon line, obscuring the separation between their two elements. Out here, there was no sea, no sky. No air, no water. No Aang, no Katara. Just them. Just together. Just finally.

They made promises to each other. They held on. They did not let go.

“Sweetie?”

“Hmm?”

“I missed you.”

“I missed you, too.”

He had to lean every so slightly down to kiss her.

Her hands in his hands.

Blue. Grey.

Sea. Sky.

Their city had a new name.

They were here.

They were home.

⬭

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It's done! It's done!

So sorry for the delay in posting this! I could've squeezed it out yesterday but didn't feel like doing so would wrap up all the things the way that I wanted to so I needed to take a bit more time on it and, obviously, this chapter grew to be quite a bit larger than the others.

I have had SO MUCH FUN participating in Kataang week this year and hope to do it again next year maybe? Also I /might/ have a little storm brewing for Maiko week so... be on the lookout for that at some point?

The love and support that I've gotten for this fic this week? OH MY GOD like wow it's been so lovely! Thank you all for reading.

And a million thanks to @foxy-knowledgeseeker for being an absolute angel and beta-ing this sucker for me. I'm gonna apologize for my choas just once more. (Sorry! Thank you!)

Bwah! Okay, time for a nap <3

@kataang-week

chapter one

chapter two

chapter three

chapter four

chapter five

chapter six

#kataang week 2021 #kataang #ao3 #foxford writes words #avatar the last airbender #atla #katara #aang #zuko #sokka #mai #toph #momo #the sea and the sky #re:union

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