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madeholyy · 11 months

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you & i ; leon kennedy / reader

and i'm not normally the jealous, jealous type. but if we're picking favorites than i am yours. [jealousy, requited unrequited love]

He wouldn’t admit it, but you could see it clear as day in his eyes. Or at least you think you could. Leon was quiet and focused, repeatedly checking on his hand gun like he didn’t believe it was perfectly fine. You fiddle with your combat knife between your fingers while stealing glances at him. No matter how many times you asked if he was alright he always gave the same excuse: It’s just Ashley. But it wasn’t. He was worried, but his mind was occupied with something else— someone else. It wasn’t any of your business, but the haunted look swirling about the solid blue in his eyes was your ghost as well. She might as well wrap her gloved hands around the column of your neck and squeeze the air from your lungs with the aftershocks she sent through you both. An appearance from an echo of another time, another place.

And the silence was the worst part of all.

It gnawed on the marrow of your bones and made a home in your chest. He barely acknowledged any attempt you made at a conversation. You wanted the sky to open up and swallow you whole; break every bone in your body and tear you so finely apart you were nothing more than stardust. Maybe you’d come back as a hurricane or an earthquake. Maybe you’d unleash your anguish and heartbreak in a fury of raging winds and seismic waves. You didn’t care what you’d leave behind in the wake of your destruction, everyone else be damned. What mattered was the aftermath. The peace beyond satisfaction as you wither into nothingness. But you weren’t a devastating storm, you were just devastating. And it hurt to feel so small with someone who made you feel so warm. Leon never talked about her much, but he confided in you enough for you to know whatever you guys were was in jeopardy if not already damaged beyond repair. His demeanor only solidified the fear.

Then he stood up and you watched his every movement right down to the way his shoulders rose and fell in rhythm with his breathing. He holstered his gun. You faced the knife blade down between your thighs and dug it into the wooden chair beneath you. He avoided eye contact. Your knuckles turned white from the sheer force of your anger-turned-suppressed-sadness. Did you even exist to him right now?

“Let’s get goin’.” His voice held firm, but you felt anything but. Standing up after him, you slide the knife back into its sheath wrapped against your thigh. You figure a small hum in response would suffice. Before walking out behind him, you glance back at the window that is wide open and clench your jaw. Then you swiftly turn away.

You suppose you should have realized Leon wasn’t serious about you two. All those flirty exchanges and nothing to show for them. You had thought this was just the usual talking stage, but perhaps he never planned for it to go past that. Of course, why would he? With a woman as beautiful as her it would be no competition. You follow him through a hallway in disarray with only a single room at the end of it. Chairs, tables, and other furnishing items were shoved up against the walls with no regard. Inside the small room was nothing special, but you looked around regardless. The fireplace was lit and wood burned and crackled within. There was a table with books and cups strewn across it with chairs around it. You stepped forward, placing your hand on the book that rests at the end of the table. Your eyes scanned over the pages and you barely noticed Leon attempting to press on.

“You could let me get a good look around before you rush me.” You narrowed your eyes at him, your voice dull of emotion. He seems a bit taken aback by it, but his expression melts away into something more his speed; neutral.

“We have more important things to do than read.” Leon holds your gaze and you roll your eyes only to abide by his pace in the end.

His hand reaches out for you. You look up at him from the ground, cautious and hesitant, but accept his help. You didn’t realize how badly you had been smacked into the stone wall until he examined you from behind.

“That’s gonna make a nasty ass bruise.” He scoffs, his demeanor different all of a sudden. You’re quiet, studying his face for a sign. Your lack of reaction causes him to stare back with something almost unreadable then his gaze drops to your lips and back up to your eyes. There’s something soft, but you’re so scared of his soft. Quickly looking away, you roll your shoulder back a few times and groan.

“They pack a punch in here… I hope Ashley is okay. I know they wouldn’t—“ You pause, inhale, then exhale, “Let’s just fine her.”

Leon keeps his eyes trained on you and you alone. He makes you feel naked under his stare; vulnerable and exposed. There’s a beat then he’s matching your steps down the path before you. It’s so painfully awkward, but you only have yourself to thank for that. It would’ve been easier to play the stupid, oblivious second choice as you assumed he’d want you to. But you didn’t want to. You wanted to be selfish in a job that forced you to be only selfless. You wanted him in every possible way and so painfully wholeheartedly it made you want to cry. So badly it felt too heavy on your chest and you struggled to breath against the weight of your wants. What did you have to do to be enough? The pain rushed through you in quick succession. You were thankful Leon was behind you or he’d see the way your lip quivered as you fought back tears the welling in your eyes.

Leon never promised a future together. He never even let you get your hopes too high. It always hurt knowing he wasn’t all in like you were, but you accepted it nonetheless. Now you feel foolish. You couldn’t convince someone to love you.

Ashley was elated to reunite with you both after Leon comforted her. You stayed back guarding the door, unable to look her in the eyes. She would know something wasn’t quite right with a glance. It was a talent you weren’t anticipating dealing with. Ever since you had both located and saved her, Ashley was keen on asking you questions about your relationship with Leon. You wouldn’t give clear cut answers, but the way your cheeks dusted pink and you tried to hide a smile, Ashley knew. She would be able to spot it a mile away. The older sister-younger sister dynamic came easily between you two as you were relatively close in age to begin with. It was sweet, but also terrifying how she could pinpoint your thoughts with accuracy. Maybe that was your downfall. You wore your heart on your sleeve and Leon kept every little thought and emotion locked up tightly. He wasn’t stoic by any means; capable of laughing, smiling, and joking. He was just…guarded. Way better at it than you were. If she couldn’t get answers from him she could get them from you. It was easy to tell yourself that talking about how you felt made it somewhat better, but then you’d have to admit what you avoided. You’d have to tell Ashley she was right all along. These were words you weren’t sure you could say.

There was a knock on the double door behind you. A signal that he and Ashley were finished talking. Once you had walked in, Ashley ran up and hugged you with all her might (which was surprisingly a lot). Her head easily rested against your shoulder due to you both being very similar heights. You, of course, embraced her back and the lump in your throat came back. Warm, comforting…it was what you needed most with your conflicting thoughts and emotions.

The moment was broken by Luis on Leon’s earpiece. You and Ashley slowly pulled away from each other as you watched. From what you both could hear it sounded as if Luis was in quite a predicament. You frowned, but there was a hint of amusement in your eyes at their interaction. The transmission is cut short and Leon’s face is contorted in annoyance.

“Can’t believe that guy.” He scoffs, doing one last sweep of the room for anything remotely useful before your journey continues.

“He’s in trouble. We can’t just leave him, right?” Ashley was not fully separated from you, concern glistening in her eyes. She was sweet, but Leon looked exasperated having to come to Luis’s aid. He was an interesting guy despite his past dealings and you couldn’t lie about feeling distrusting of him, but he made you laugh and it was hard to not like someone who did that. You join him in taking a quick look around before he pushes the door open to reveal a hedge maze below. You lean against the railing, pulling your rifle off your pack and situated in your hands. You peered through the scope. A lone Colmillo stalked a pathway across from your group.

“Fifteen?” You asked.

“This isn’t even a fair bet.” Leon huffed a small laugh, crossing his arms as he watched your target. You hummed, taking aim and watching for a moment to catch the creature off guard. The second he stood still your finger squeezed the trigger and a loud shot rang out across the maze. His body fell limp to the floor. You leaned back and Leon whistled, ruffling your hair. For just a minute you forgot why you were even upset and welcomed his gentle touch.

“Alright, write it down. I owe you fifteen bucks.” He playfully rolled his eyes at you. When his back turned, you watched him saunter off down the steps with his handgun ready. Ashley glanced at you.

“Did he do something?” Her voice was soft and gentle as if you were a cornered animal. You hardly realized the frown on your lips and the way your eyebrows creased together. His retreating form made you feel empty. Loneliness thrived.

“Let's not fall behind.” You smiled in her direction, but it never reached your eyes. Now it was Ashley’s turn to frown, but she complied.

Your knuckles turned pearly white as you gripped the golden bars of your cage. Your eyes were focused on the balcony above you where Ashley had been taken. Leon hurried to unlock a door, but was interrupted by another call on his ear piece.

“Ada?” His voice speaking her name caused your stomach to plummet far, far down— or at least that’s how it felt. Every nerve in your body trembled as you bow your head against the bars. The conversation seemed brief as not a minute later he was calling out her name frantically then sighed. You couldn’t even stand the thought of looking at him. It seems that’s all you have felt this last hour; unable to confront the one person you should be able to trust the most.

“C’mon— Hey, are you alright?” His hand barely grazed your shoulder before you whipped around and stared at him with wide eyes. He seemed stunned himself, holding his hand in the air, mouth agape. You couldn’t think, couldn’t move. The ache in your heart and the burning in your lungs. Your chest feels heavy and constricted and you could only watch as he lowered his hand and waited on your cue. But there wasn’t a cue. You wanted to scream at him, but you also wanted to run off alone and scream until your throat was raw and bloodied. Attracting the attention of the castle's inhabitant did not matter, but thinking rationally wasn’t on your agenda currently. You bit the inside of your cheek and inhaled a trembling breath.

“...I’m sorry. I just…” But you couldn’t finish your thought or rather your excuse as none came readily to mind. It should’ve been easy to blame the things you endured, but that wasn’t it. And even if you were to voice the real reason you would feel idiotic. Leon was in mission mode and didn’t need a lovesick girl making a scene while the President’s daughter was snatched from their hands.

“You haven’t been acting like yourself. One moment you’re talking to me like normal and the next you’re— You seem so angry.” Of course he would pick the worst time to wrangle the truth from you. His eyes were so sincere, but his features weren’t soft. There was determination dancing in his tone as he spoke.

“It’s just this whole mission.” You were quick to excuse yourself, but Leon followed.

“Is that really it?” He brushed his fingers on your elbow, but you refused to look back at him. You’d kill for one of those Zealots to interrupt this moment, but God wasn’t so kind.

“I knew it wasn’t going to be easy, but everything is so fucked up. I’m just not doing so well.” It absolutely murdered you to seem so weak and vulnerable to something you both had been groomed for, but it was easier to use that as an excuse than confess to being head over heels for your partner. Of course, it wasn’t like Leon hadn’t already blurred that line. He proved it in the way he stepped around you to stand face to face once more. You didn’t need to look up to know exactly how he was watching you. In fact, it was better you didn’t. One look into those mesmerizing blue eyes and your anger and sadness would waver. It was so easy to forget when he looked at you like that. Leon cautiously raised a hand and wrapped it very gently around your elbow, caressing the material of your black long sleeve. The fabric had already been snared by a close call with a Zealot and his crossbow. He could make out the vibrant blue and purple painting the soft skin of your arm. You were littered in battle wounds and deep bruises.

“We’ll handle this the same way we always have. Together.” He was soft spoken and reassuring. It only made you want to cry. How could he be so kind when breaking your heart?

“Yeah…yeah. Let’s go find Ashley.” You finally matched his gaze with a meek smile. He was hurting you and didn’t even notice. Leon was ever the oblivious type unless you made it apparent. He looked over you with confliction as if something was stuck in his throat and he didn’t know how to say it. His hand fell down your arm, fingertips bumping against yours as if he was attempting to muster up the courage to hold it. You could feel your heart rate speed up at his simple gesture. You quickly cover the lower half of your face with your hand and turn away from him.

“I said let’s go find Ashley!” You sped walked over to the room that opened up beside you guys earlier.

“As you wish.” He huffed a laugh and you could just hear the smile. He knew he had gotten to you.

The mineshaft was damp, musty, and smelled heavily of rockdust. You sat next to Leon as he flexed his arms, watching the limb very carefully for any protruding veins. Luis proudly leaned against a structure. You wished you could finally breathe a sigh of relief that the suppressant worked, but Leon was a ticking time bomb. Any moment the infection could regain control and the symptoms would resurface. How long did he have until then? What measures could you both take to hold it at bay? You were overthinking and thinking overall was bad, you knew that. If you thought for too long you would eventually break away piece by piece until nothing was left of you but brittle bones and teeth. Your heart was shattering for a man who would not give you his eternity.

So you did the next best thing: walk away from the problem— literally. Feigned the desire to strategize while he recovered and hid away between wooden crates and empty drums. It wasn’t home, but you could breathe. The ache in your chest and lungs subsided as you drew your knees to your chest and wrapped your weary arms around them. Held them as close as you wanted to hold him but he longed for the embrace of another; a woman dressed in red and confidence. An image of her face flashed through your exhaustion riddled mind and you simpered. You were a kettle ready to shriek from the pressure that built deep within. Only your shrieking would be a spectacle. It would be tables turning, glass shattering. You would not go with grace for that was admitting a defeat only you knew of. Was letting go even possible? Leon left a scar on you that would never fade and every fall you’d see him in the fog like a phantom of the past. He was inescapable. And you wanted to be selfish anyways, hold onto him like he’d dissolve into ash if you let go.

“You look…stressed.” A familiar voice startled you out of your thoughts. Eyes wide like a deer in headlights, staring up at Luis as he held your attention with his signature smirk. You scoffed, stretching your legs out while he took a seat beside you.

“That’s an understatement. All this Plagas bullshit is getting on my nerves.” You fibbed through pearly white teeth. The words felt bitter on your tongue and you were unable to hold his gaze.

“Is it really that?” He asked. You froze. Your expression remained neutral, but Luis could feel the confliction radiating off of you like body heat.

“Is that answer not good enough? I know I’m bad at lying, but have some sympathy.” Your words spilled from your lips with a tremble. Your voice cracked into a whisper as if you strained to maintain composure and perhaps that was precisely the struggle. A question. It was simple and you could have lied again. But you were weak and he was honest.

Luis sighed, smiling softly to himself while looking at the ground, “I’ve spent my whole life mastering that and you can’t fool a professional.”

Now you were fraying at the seams. Every emotion bloated in size and threatened to burst. Heavy was the weight you burdened yourself with. Droplets fell like pearls on the floor of the mineshaft, collecting dirt on its spherical surface until it popped and soaked in. You looked up for a brief moment wondering if the ceiling was leaking only to discover you had begun to cry. Ducking your head down again, you pulled the hem of your sleeve up your palm and used it to dab the tears streaming down your face.

“That was kind of corny.” You sputtered a laugh and sniffled.

“Corny? I think you’re just embarrassed and don’t want to admit it.” He was right, but you refrained from answering. Instead, you inhaled deep breaths as you patted down your damp cheeks.

“I guess you can know, but it’s a secret between us.” It was meant to come across as humorous, but you sounded pathetic, “It hurts. Ya’know, being in love with someone who belongs to someone else.”

Luis didn’t interrupt. He also didn’t belittle you for how you felt. He sat there, listening attentively, and occasionally nodding along so you knew he was still listening. It meant the world and more to you. Had Ashley been here you knew you’d have broken down the same way in front of her, but she was so far away and you were so fragile. Luis was a shoulder to cry on; something you needed for a long while.

“I don’t really know the specifics, but…maybe you’re not looking at it from the right angle.” Luis merely suggested and you could hear the struggle in his words as he chose what to say very carefully. It made you laugh again.

“Hey, we ready to go?” This time, Luis was startled as well, but he hid it quickly behind a cheshire grin. You looked up to see Leon a few feet away. In the dim lantern light, he appeared holy. If you were to believe in something, you’d believe in his divinity. Something godly walked among men and you weren’t the religious type, but you didn’t need to be. Shaking your head gently, you stumbled onto your feet. Leon watched you cautiously. You knew your eyes were red and puffy, but you merely walked past him to the path forward. It took awhile for you to realize they had fallen behind, but the further away you were from him, the more at ease you felt.

If looks could kill, yours would be lethal. In fact, you spent the entire boat ride avoiding absolutely any eye contact with Ada. It was awkward and Leon was tense. You expected him to make his move here, but that was more so your imagination. As soon as Ada had left and the boat stilled at shore, you leapt forward to grab his arm. You don’t know what came over you. It was almost on instinct you attached yourself to him. Leon looked down at you, eyes filled with bewilderment. The waves crashed against the rocks below you both, filling the silence with ambient sounds. When he fully turned to face you, you pushed yourself off him and heaved a shaky breath.

“Leon—”

“This is about Ada, isn’t it?” You paused, snapping your head up to meet his eyes. It was like he gave you permission to combust, word vomit everything you had been thinking and feeling the entire time.

“I don’t want to do this anymore.” It came out close to a whisper, but you tested the waters with it.

“Hey now—” But he was effectively cut off as you picked up a rock and threw it at the boat with all your might. Now he was just confused. This didn’t stop him taking a step back as you found more ammo to unleash on the one thing that did absolutely nothing to you. You pelted it with stone after stone, grunting at the force with which you launched them. It was the same cycle of scour and attack until you became noticeably feeble with your hurling.

“I hate—” The rock hit the very front and left a noticeable dent, “—her so much! I hate that you love her!”

Then you crumbled, meekly tossing the rocks now with no strength behind them. It was cathartic at first, but quickly became meaningless in the face of heartbreak. You were now a shell of your red-hot anger; a bright flame dwindling in the rain until the glowing embers were burnt out. For the first time since this feeling settled on your stomach, you sobbed inconsolably. You covered your mouth with your palms and leaned forward to curl into yourself and released a scream muffled against your skin. It hurt. Everything hurt and you wanted to puke so hard your intestines fell out of your mouth. You wanted to be gruesome and unsightly. You wanted to be swallowed whole by absolutely anything at this point. Unrequited love was too much to bear. Ashley was gone. Luis was dead. You had no one to lean on while you wept so hard you began to choke and gag. The arms that wrapped around your trembling form were so warm and, even if it was Leon’s, you were desperate for comfort.

“Please, please don’t pick her over me. I can’t live with that. You’re not allowed to break my heart like that. You’re supposed to fall for me.” Your hands came up to grip the material of his black shirt, “I want you, Leon. More than anything and if you pick her, then you pick wrong.”

Your conviction was solid. It had to be you and no one else because who better to understand exactly what he was going through than you? The world could end tomorrow, but all that would matter was that he wanted you more than he ever thought of her. You both could fail this mission, you could become parasitic with the rest of them, but you would know he loved you more. It was a simple choice. You or her and you hoped to god he would choose you any day in any lifetime.

Leon was silent, however. His grip never wavered, but he was in deep thought. Then he pulled back from you and you lifted your head. He leveled his gaze with you. There was something unreadable on his face. His touch was ever so gentle and you swore you would melt if he were any softer. One of his hands reached up to caress your cheek with calloused fingertips. You shuddered, leaning into his touch. As you closed your eyes, you pictured spring and flowers and his smile belonging to you. It was perfect and so were the lip brushing against yours as your eyes fluttered open. There was no time to react; you could only accept his lips pressing against your own in a gentle kiss. There were no sparks, no fireworks, only something akin to the gentle warmth of a fireplace. After what felt like eternity, he pulled away.

“It wasn’t like you gave me a choice anyhow. The moment I looked in your eyes for the very first time, I was fucked.” He chuckled, thumb brushing against your supple cheek as he leaned his forward against your own. You could hardly contain the tears of joy that flooded you now. It felt almost too good to be true, but sometimes that is just the way it goes.

“Good because I was prepared to give a whole speech about it.”

“Powerpoint, too?”

#leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy x reader #leon x reader #leon s kennedy x reader #leon kennedy headcanons #resident evil leon #leon kennedy #now im on tumblr bc i enjoy writing again #my works

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whimzeee · 3 months

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Audaciously Yours,

Ramazith tower has ten billion stairs.

At least that’s how it feels to a pair of drunk fools leaning on one another while trying to climb them.

It’s late evening, perhaps a bit too late to be proper. Dinner lasted into the night and was served with one glass too many of the finest wine Dammon had ever tasted. At the hands of the three siblings he had been hosted like royalty that night. After Cal and Lia had called it a night, Rolan and Dammon stayed a bit longer. To have a conversation they could no longer pretend wasn’t needed.

They had both needed a drink or several to get through those nerves. One more so than the other. And the effect shows plainly; Dammon’s fingertips are a bit numb, but the entirety of Rolan’s legs seem to be that way.

He has Rolan’s arm hooked around his shoulders in the dimlit staircase. His warmth slumped against him. Arm around his waist, hand on hip. He’s not sure if the purple blush on Rolan’s face comes from the wine, or from the words they’d exchanged at long last. It’s no less pretty either way.

“Nearly there,” he encourages gently.

Rolan pauses, huffs an annoyed breath. “I am going to figure out portals…if it kills me.”

“Before these stairs do?”

“Mm.” Rolan glowers, but from the way his eyes blink, it seems less a glare of frustration and more just that he’s trying to see clearly. Were Dammon sober, he’d have stifled the snicker that bubbles up. He’s too tipsy to catch it in time.

Rolan’s sharp gaze is blunted and slow as he turns the glare on him. Maybe it would have been scary if he hadn’t started laughing too.

“Alright,” he slurs, gesturing loosely forward. “Laugh at me all you’d like, if you get us up these…damned steps.”

“I’m sorry,” Dammon giggles. “You’re just so...intimidating when you’re sober. It seems silly now.”

“Am I?” Is he…pouting?

“No,” Dammon corrects quickly. “Perhaps not after all.”

Rolan’s arm has begun to slip from his shoulders, so he hefts him higher—closer. Rolan's body curves to fit into his own and Dammon feels his face warming.

“I was the one intimidated,” Rolan mutters quietly. “You won’t believe how nervous I was. Still am, honestly.”

This is a brand new side of him. Rolan’s never been so honest. It’s always pomp and face, lace and ruffle when he talks. Always so concerned with decorum. Never just…real. Real like the friction between them as they lean drunken on each other in the small hours of night.

“No need for that,” he soothes, and pulls him up one more step. “It doesn’t need to be scary.”

Many missed steps and poorly stifled giggles later, they finally pour through the door to Rolan’s room. Dammon looks about with a mix of giddiness and trepidation. It feels like he’s not supposed to be here, somehow. But he is. For the first time.

It’s sparser than he’d expected. Cozy, but minimal. Organized so neatly it barely feels like a bedroom at all. But for a few books and two standing picture frames on the nightstand, one would hardly know whose room it was at all. A standing three-pronged candelabra next to the purple-quilted bed holds three perfectly un-melted lit candles, even though they must have been burning all night. Ah, right: Archmage Rolan. Downstairs he has a chandelier whose crystals lit up in different colors with a wave of his hand.

Dammon hauls the Master of Ramzith Tower's ragdoll body over to the bed and eases him down to sit. He takes this opportunity to get a closer look at the portraits. One is of Rolan and his siblings—gods help them trying to get Cal to sit still for that long. The second is quite older, faded and creased in some places. It depicts an older tiefling woman he doesn’t know, with a baby in her arms and a very young girl at her side, her hand resting on top of the child’s head. He recognizes the girl's horn shape, shared by the woman.

In the state Rolan’s in now, Dammon knows that if he asked he’d easily get an answer. So he doesn’t. It feels wrong. Like cheating at chess.

Rolan’s staring blearily at nothing, his head drooping. Dammon can’t help but smirk, biting his lip to keep from laughing at him any further. “Here,” he says gently, kneeling in front of him. “Let me help.”

Rolan’s eyes focus as he watches the blacksmith take his boots off for him. Unlaces them neatly and slides them off one by one with painstaking gentleness. When he’s finished, he’s a bit startled to see how big Rolan’s eyes have gotten, how he stares at him in…well, shock, really.

“Um… Was that okay?”

“I.” Rolan shivers, breaking the gaze as he feels suddenly self conscious. “Yes.”

No one has ever done something like that for him. So small but…just. Taking his shoes off for him. No one has ever.

“Are you. Sure?”

Rolan covers his face with his hands and falls backward onto the bed, flopping like a limp fish.

Dammon’s eyes peep over the side of the bed before he rises up onto his knees, leaning on the bed with his elbows. He observes Rolan quietly, waiting, but he doesn’t say any more.

"You've gone very quiet very quickly. Are you alright?" His smile fades to the touch of concern. "Not feeling sick are you?"

Rolan stares up at him like a first-time stargazer. His wide, shining eyes striving to focus.

"Rolan?"

"Mm. Mnyes."

"Did you hear the question?"

“Hn. 'F course."

Dammon waits, then huffs a laugh. "Would you care to answer it?"

"...I'm not sure."

"You're not sure what? ...Not sure you're going to answer or not sure if you're sick?"

"Right. Yes. You understand."

Dammon chuckles again, hanging his head. "Ohh, I wish I did."

Rolan catches his laugh, humming a lazy giggle as his sharp teeth flash in a manner he'd never allow sober.

Dammon takes a moment to admire it until it fades, Rolan's eyes slipping closed and his breath falling into rhythm. There is the faintest tug of disappointment in his heart, like when the top edge of the sun dips out of sight. He pulls himself to his feet and reaches down to lift Rolan’s legs, turning him rightways on the bed. He carefully places his head onto a pillow--fine downfeathers. Rolan must have been miserable on the road. While pulling a blanket over him, Dammon has the quite sudden thought that he wouldn’t mind doing this every night for the rest of his life.

For a moment, he waits there, staring at the gentle peace in Rolan's sleeping face. A thousand daydreams float through his buzzing mind. His hand twitches with the impulse to reach out and brush that stray lock of hair out of his face, but he's just sober enough to hold it back.

He'd better leave while he still has that much self control.

Before he can move two steps, he hears a short gasp, and Rolan snatches his wrist with surprising speed.

"W-what—"

"I am, actually," Rolan's voice tumbles over itself; he's more drunk than Dammon thought.

"Am...what?"

"I—yes, I'm. Feeling ill, actually, yes."

Dammon may have been concerned, had he not recently learned that Rolan is a terrible liar. His smile spreads slowly, like a new candle wick that must melt before it lights.

He sinks to his knees by the bedside, leaning on his crossed arms on the mattress. Rolan’s grip moves to his bicep and won’t let go. "Quite stricken, are you?"

Rolan swallows. "Terribly."

Dammon leans closer. His eyes glow in the candlelight. "Then I can hardly leave you all alone, can I?"

He can practically hear the perfectly fitted clockwork gears that power Rolan's mind grind to a halt. He looks for a moment as if he really is ill, the way his face pales and breath quickens.

"St…you must stay with me."

"Mm. Seems I must."

Despite having just insisted on it five seconds ago, Rolan shakes his head and covers his face with his hands. "No, no, of course not. It wouldn't be proper. Not proper at all."

Dammon's mild eyes sweep over Rolan as if he's never held such fondness before.

"Never much cared for what's proper," he smirks, gently prying Rolan's hands away from his face. "Unless you do."

"..."

"Would you like me to stay, Rolan?"

"Well...but. It wouldn't be..."

"But would you like it?"

"...Yes."

He smiles. So bright Rolan's eyes close against it. The hand that grips his is heavy and solid. The heat it stokes in Rolan’s chest going to make cinders of him. Once the fire hits him he’ll change shape—and does he want that? He won’t survive the night. Morning will see him darken again, made brittle by cold water. It’s not going to turn out. He’s sharp and thin and riddled with impurities. No matter how careful the hands that strike him, he will break beneath the hammer.

He jumps at the sound of Dammon’s voice. "Can you sit up a moment?"

Rolan opens his eyes just enough to glare. "Nn. Why."

"So I can take your hair down for you."

Rolan's squinted eyes go wide an soft. How is he going to say no to that? He tries to sit on his own, but because he is never one to miss an opportunity, he begins to roll and tilt toward the edge of the bed.

"Oh--gods, don't fall." Dammon catches him quickly, arm around shoulders. Rolan's entire body freezes. His face is buried in the crook of Dammon's arm, he can smell warm steelsmoke and hearth. And...rosemary. Has he used cologne?

It's too soon that Dammon pulls him back to balance, sitting him up properly. Rolan sways in place, hoping the cover of being drunk is enough to explain the starstruck glaze in his eyes.

Rolan must bite his tongue to stop himself making an absolutely unacceptable sound when he feels Dammon's fingers thread through his hair. Sharp, careful nails scrape the base of his neck and drag upward along his scalp. The violent shiver that overtakes his body is about as controllable as a sudden rainstorm in summer.

"Sorry," Dammon laughs, and begins to pull away.

"Oh don't you dare stop."

A pause, another small breath of laughter. Rolan wishes he was sober, so that he could memorize that beautiful sound in vivid detail, be sure that he could recall it at any moment he chose for the rest of his days.

With a touch so delicate as to belay fear, Dammon carefully pulls his hairtie free and shakes loose the wiry, tangled locks. With no comb nearby, he uses his claws. It's not the touch of a smith, but rather a jeweler, precise and delicate and no more than needed. So gentle. So unbearably delicate. Torture.

He wishes he’d grab a fistful and pull.

Rolan sucks in a breath and even he is surprised at the volume of the smack that comes from his hands against his own face. He's gone mad. He’s out of his godsdamn mind. He's terrible.

Dammon instantly lets go, flinching back. “What!” he pulls on Rolan’s shoulder, trying to get a look to see if he’s hurt himself. “Are you—wh-why—”

Rolan groans and flops back onto the bed, burying his face into the pillow instead. “T-thank you, that’s quite enough!” he panics.

Completely bewildered, Dammon reaches toward him, but hesitates.

He said it didn't need to be scary, but. It is. It’s still so new between them. Fragile and uncertain without structure. A seedling too delicate to bear weight just yet. It's only ten minutes ago they've confessed to feeling something more. Dammon wants this, he’s sure, but he’s painfully aware that he has no idea what he’s doing. How fast to move. And Rolan…deserves the best, after all of it. He deserves joy. Dammon wants to abandon caution and explore this newness, but more than the thrill of it all he wants this—the idea of them—to give Rolan something safe. It needn’t be painful, uncomfortable. It needn’t intimidate either of them.

“Wait here a moment,” Dammon says, his voice calm and soft. He pulls the blanket back to Rolan’s shoulders then steps softly away.

Rolan stays frozen in place, listening over the sound of his own pounding heart as Dammon leaves the room. Once he hears him on the stairs, Rolan sighs, cursing himself under his breath. The mess this man has made of him…shameful. Shameful, the way he’s acting. Drunk. Ridiculous. He’s driven him away now.

No. He said wait. Rolan does. He listens for the creak of the stairs, inexplicably desperate. He's felt this way before, hasn't he. He almost forgot being six. Listening for footsteps on the stairs.

“You won’t come back, will you.”

Out loud, he’s said that. Gods. How pathetic is he going to show himself?

Rolan opens his eyes, staring listlessly at the empty doorway. If he focuses hard enough, he can still feel the ghost of careful hands on his shoulders. If he concentrates, he can remember the warmth and weight of their sides pressed together, that hand gripping his hip ever tighter. Rolan wanted more. Still does. But it wouldn’t be…proper.

Gods. Who cares?

He doesn’t want to care. About appearance. About pretense, impression, fronts. How things are supposed to be done. Dammon doesn’t seem to. He loves that about him, admires it. The most genuine person he’s ever known. Never pretentious, never a liar. Like himself. How can he claim to care for him and yet lie to him—posture in front of him with lavish gifts and braggart peacocking in his big fuckoff tower?

It’s all he’s ever known: display. No one cares for you as you are. No one looks twice at you. No one ever gave one fuck. They struggled for so long. So long. The people most important to him in the world went hungry and abused, all the time, because he wasn't anyone. Couldn't do a damn thing for anyone. He’s better now. He pulled them out of the gutter. He’s worth something now. Isn’t he?

So why isn’t he coming back?

Rolan stares at the photos on his bedside table. He feels his eyes stinging.

“Dammon,” he calls, because he’s drunk, because it’s not fucking fair that he’s alone again. There’s a sob in his voice, anger. No dignity whatsoever. He doesn’t care. “Dammon!”

There are hurried steps in the hall, and Rolan regrets it instantly. Dammon appears in the doorway, alert, a steaming mug in his hand and a small towel draped over his forearm.

“Just here,” he assures, all soft worry and attention. “What’s wrong?” When Rolan doesn’t answer, he comes to sit on the edge of the bed, smiling gently. “Did you think I’d left?”

“No,” he lies. Because that’s all he fucking knows how to do. He groans at himself, shaking his head so that it starts to spin again. “Maybe…”

“I won’t.” He drapes the damp cloth over the back of Rolan’s neck. It’s cool but not cold and feels wonderful. “Not until you want me to.”

Rolan pouts up at him, disgruntled. “Where did you go?”

“To borrow Cal’s kitchen. Apologies to him.” Dammon reaches for the cup, little white steam rising from inside it. “Here.”

He helps Rolan rise, not really sitting up but at least leaning on an elbow so that he can take the cup. Inside is a light amber liquid which he only questions after he’s had a sip. “…Bitter. What issit?”

“Hangover killer. Smiths don’t get the next morning off. Dad set me up with the recipe; never failed him once.”

Rolan takes sleepy sips of the draught, grimacing throughout but refusing to put it aside. In the softness of the scene, Dammon sits by his side with his elbows on his knees and gazes at him.

“What are you smiling at,” grumbles Rolan, his face going darker again.

Dammon laughs softly, his eyes going shy as he turns them downward. “Only thinking.”

“…I don’t suppose you’d be kind enough to share what about.”

“I’d answer anything you asked me.”

Rolan’s heartbeat is doing all sorts of wacky little tricks today. Before he can get hold of himself, Dammon continues, “Thinking how I’ve never had someone to make tea for. It’s nice.”

Rolan wants to tell him he’s the same, that there’s never been anyone in his life he’d wanted to care for so tenderly. To take off their shoes for them, carry them up the stairs, sit by their bedside until they feel safe enough to sleep again. He wants to. Instead, he says, “You’ve got a…unique idea of what tea is.”

Dammon smiles. The picture of patience.

“Thank you,” Rolan adds, so low it’s barely audible.

Dammon takes the empty cup from him, leaning across toward the nightstand to do so. It brings him quite close to Rolan. And when he begins to move away, something in him ignites—cold fire, frightened and desperate. He strikes out and snatches a handful of Dammon’s shirt collar.

Dammon’s startled, but his voice is slow, steady. Hardly a whisper. "...I meant it. I won't leave."

He's...not just talking about right now. Is he. Rolan feels himself start to tremble. So does Dammon.

“Are you alright?”

Rolan shakes his head, dismissive. “I’m fine, just. Feel a bit…dizzy, suddenly.”

“Mm…I might know the feeling.”

Their faces are so close together now, he can smell the sweetness of Dammon’s breath washing down over him. Peach and white wine. Moonlight from the window wages quiet war with the candles inside and their graceful clash drapes the room in flowing shadow. Rolan’s head spins trying to make sense of it all. He feels like they’re in another realm. A dream. Where maybe it’s not as frightening to reach out and touch whatever is hidden from light.

He does. His fingers are clumsy as they tilt Dammon’s chin and turn upward his eyes. Bluegold, like the sun breaking through a long winter’s frost.

"Did you mean what you said to me," he murmurs, his eyes flaring brightly with ache. "Would you take it back?"

Dammon holds his stare. "There's still time, you're saying?"

Rolan feels himself about to cry. He’s so afraid. So exposed. It’s here where they cut away the lifeline, or follow it back to safe ground. His voice shakes, only a whisper. "Still time. Should you have doubts."

Slow, gentle, Dammon slides his fingers beneath the palm of Rolan's hand. You'd think it was carved of precious stone, the way he cradles it so carefully. He raises it to his own face, presses it against his cheek and holds it there. Firm enough to impress his feelings, loose enough that Rolan could pull away.

"No there isn't," Dammon says, and turns his face into Rolan's palm. His lips press the softest kiss into it, a fragile thing, a clockwork butterfly that flutters so small and vulnerable inside the cage of his fingers. And then Dammon folds his hand into a fist.

"And no I wouldn't." His gaze is that of a prisoner looking out from between bars. He repeats what he’s said, nails shut his last window of escape. “Rolan. I care for you in a way I’ve never felt before. I don't know what it is exactly, yet. But I'd like to find out. And what I do know...is I want to feel like something special to you. Something you can use. I want to be for you what I’ve never been for anyone. No one has ever known me that way. I want it to be you.”

Rolan’s breath has abandoned him. He’s whimpering to get it back. His every nerve alight and shimmering like the weave. When he strikes out to grab the back of Dammon’s neck, electric tendrils spark out from his fingertips, unbidden. His eyes are glowing with white light. How swiftly, how easily he surrenders the run of himself.

Before reason can stop him, before sanity can intervene, Rolan wrenches Dammon close and crashes their lips together like tide on shore. What’s left of the wavebreak spills from his eyes, shut tight, brows arched and desperate. He feels Dammon tense, hesitate…then curl toward him. His mouth opens to his tongue and his head rocks in rhythm with the sudden seastorm.

Rolan feels as though he may faint. And like he'll never rest again. He feels awful, and ecstatic, and pathetic and happy and free. He could drink the ocean Dry.

Dammon’s hand snakes around his side and rests in the small of his back. Rolan arcs up toward him, his hands curling around the curve of his skull where it meets his work-tensed neck. Rolan lets himself explore the finely chiseled curves borne of every hammerswing he’d ever struck. The muscles so hard, sinew like braided iron cords—and yet the skin above so delicate soft.

Dammon breaks for breath.

“Rolan,” he mutters, keening, urgent. “S…stop.”

It takes a painful few moments, but Rolan does. He rips himself away with a delirious moan and buries his face instead into Dammon’s neck. His breath rasping hot and ragged. "I'm. Ngh. Sorry."

“It’s just…” Dammon sounds just as overcome. “Not that I don’t…but. You’re drunk, is why. I can’t.”

“Yes,” he whispers, teeth grinding together so tightly that they squeak. “I. Forgive me…I-I don’t know what…I.”

“It’s alright.” His hand grips the back of Rolan’s shirt, the other cupped behind his head. “Shh. Nothing’s wrong.” Dammon laughs, incredulous, giddy and tearful. He plants a kiss into Rolan’s hair, just between his horns. “Far, far from it.”

He clings to Rolan while a thousand fireflies buzz inside the hollow of his chest. He’s never been so happy, he thinks, not in all his life. Rolan is shaking, shrinking into him to try and hide. Though he’s more than a little worried, Dammon is nevertheless glad for the chance to be his haven. Honored. And he doesn’t aim to fall short of the role.

He lays the two of them down in the soft quilts, holds him against his chest. Rolan is beyond speech. For long minutes that stretch into hours, Dammon hushes him softly, repeats assurance and affirmation of safety and peace. Whether because of this, or simply from being so overwhelmed, Rolan eventually sinks below the still pond of sleep.

For a long time, Dammon stares at thin air in a wide-eyed daze. He can hardly believe…it plays over and over in his mind. He keeps still, daring not to move a muscle. He fears to wake him. Fears to shatter the wild dream they’ve fallen into. Gods above. All the fucking hardship. All the loneliness. Done. All of it behind them now. Rolan…

Rolan.

He loves him.

…Oh, gods. He needs to process this. Calm down. But his mind is spinning and he’s so emotionally exhausted, but there’s no chance in six hells he’ll get any sleep tonight. Maybe that’ just as well. He'd been invited for dinner. It would be a wild disrespect to sleep off Rolan’s wine, in Rolan’s house, in Rolan’s bed. On his first proper visit to Rolan’s home. A measure of guilt creeps into the bliss. He's always so concerned with appearances. What would his siblings think? …What would he think, more importantly, if he woke and found Dammon beside him?

As much as he'd like to get lost in the pretty dream of waking up at his side every single day to smiles and sleepsoft kisses...perhaps this time, it’ll be kindest to spare him the morning after. The last thing he wants is to imperil this…this miracle he’s just been given. He’ll wait a while longer, make sure Rolan won’t wake in the night and feel abandoned, and be gone by tomorrow. Tomorrow he will rise and run straight to the tabernacle to thank Tymora. Hells, tomorrow he will sing praise to every god he’s ever heard the name of. But tonight belongs only to himself and Rolan. To him…and the one with whom he is fully, irredeemably, fervently in love.

Audaciously.

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dimepdf · 2 years

Note

Hi! Could I request a Max Mayfield x Fem!Reader fluff fic?

There aren’t enough of them out there- 😭

MIDNIGHT LOVE. + MAX MAYFIELD

masterlist. / taglist. / any request? synopsis. you silently prayed that Max would forget what happened and never bring it up again, but a month passed and neither of you brought it up. you felt strange feelings for Max but tried to suppress them.

pairing. max mayfield x reader

word count. 2k

genre and warnings. fluff, fem reader, friends to lovers, pining, wake up breakup, comfort, kissing, bed sharing, misunderstanding, coming out, not beta'd | — don't forget to reblog 🤍

It was the middle of the school day, transition time as all the students staggered and shuffled to their next classes before the ring of the bell.

You were making a pit stop, clutching the curve of your binder as you spun in your locker number, yanking the door open with an exhale, leaving your nose as you reached for your textbooks.

A thud made you flinch as your math textbook tumbled from your hands and onto the floor next to your feet.

Max was the cause of the startling noise as she groaned, her fist slamming against the locker next to yours. Once she had noticed the state of your book, she reached down to pick it up for you with no hesitation.

"Shit sorry," she muttered as she snatched the book from the ground and passed it into your arms alongside the others, and you accepted the apology with a slight unbothered smile.

You instantly notice how tired Max looks; her skin paled with eyebags, dark as her normal resting face was contorted into more of a natural-looking scowl.

You could take many wild guesses to piece together whatever the issues were that had the girl so emotionally drained. "What's wrong, Red, and I swear if you say, Lucas–"

"–Lucas broke up with me." She grumbled with annoyance in her tone, clanking her shoulders against the locker for balance as she hung her head low towards you.

You weren't an avid Lucas and Max follower, but you could tell something was different in the exchange.

It was normal for Max to tell you how many times she would argue about the littlest of things with Lucas and how she would always "break up" with him.

The pause in the relationship took a lot of glaring at each other in the hallways for a week before Max would take him back.

You weren't in the main circle yourself, having your own group of friends. The day you met Max, you two just sort of clicked. It was like you were her safe haven away from the chaos that came with being friends with the boys.

She got away whenever she just needed to clear her head and be around actual normal people her age.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, Max." Her defeated look was enough for you to shift your books under your right armpit, pulling her in for a hug or at least an embrace as Max just sort of melted into your touch.

Since that day, the bond that you had with Max seemed to get stronger. She was going out of her way to spend more of her free time with you, even outside of school. Max appeared to have replaced her usual friend group with your presence.

You weren't complaining much about it yourself, adoring the new friendship. You were helping her become a distraction from all the chaos happening in her life.

You were the perfect distraction for the spiral of emotions she was going through.

Between watching her own brother die and defeating Mindflayer, she needed something stable in her life and that stability came in the form of you.

You didn't take notice of how much more touchy she was getting, thinking she was just getting more comfortable with you. You didn't think much of the times she would bump into your shoulder or just out of nowhere hold your hand.

Then, of course, you thought your relationship was nothing but best friends just being best friends. That was until last night, of course.

It was normal for Max to sneak her way through your window and slip into your bed; for you two to sleep together, cuddling into your bed sheets as she would quietly weep into your embrace, having just woken from a nightmare in her own room.

You thought the night would end with both of you falling asleep in each other's arms and waking up early enough for Max to sneak back home before her mother would notice her absent child.

But last night was different. As Max climbed under the covers with you, she was more silent than normal, letting you speak for a while, only answering with small gestures or one-worded replies.

Until she just sort of stares at you. Before you could ask what was wrong, she pecked your lips.

The kiss left you both confused as Max pulled away, almost terrified as she lay down, settling into your blankets, giving you space to spend the night in uncomfortable silence.

You spent the next day at school, not seeing much of Max, carrying out your normal day-to-day routine. you had before meeting Max.

You had to admit, it was a little lonely as the last bell dismissing the school day rung Max cloth-lined you just as you were about to step foot out of your classroom.

"Do you want to hang out later?" Her tone was flat, almost as if she was ignoring what had happened yesterday.

Your fingers tighten around the binder in your hands as your brows raise in confusion.

Your mouth opening to speak only to be cut off by a line of passing students attempting to step around you, Max gently yanking you closer to her.

When you had finally found your words, stepping a step back, "Are you…sure?" you asked as you tilted your head, trying to figure out what was happening inside of Max’s mind.

"Yeah, why else would I be asking?" copying the tilt as she forced a small smile on her face.

"Okay yeah, we can hang out at my place if you want or if you have somewhere in mind?" You gave her a smile in return as she went back to her neutral expression, her lashes fluttering almost as if she was nervous.

"Your place, and then maybe the arcade, like we did last weekend. I'll even buy you a slushie." Her parting words as she strode down the hallways putting her headphones back over her ears as you watched her leave.

Your eyes glanced at the roof of the school as you silently prayed that Max had magically lost memory and would never bring up what happened ever again before going home.

And that she did, a month passing from the kiss and neither of you bringing it up.

As if anything was getting closer despite that huge bump in the road, you played pretend like you hadn't thought about the kiss at all, like you weren't secretly expecting another one from Max.

When she slipped under the covers and cuddled into your side, a strange feeling festered inside of you, as if a switch had been flipped in your head the night before.

You knew the feelings you had were "different" so you tried your best to suppress them, there's no way you had feelings for Max you were just confused and that it was all a misunderstanding just because she had kissed you and you thought Max was at fault the same way.

You had nothing much to do that day, deciding to get some fresh air for the first time in your life as you used your free period to wander outside and into the schoolyard.

Eventually ending up at the gym field, and the sun suddenly becomes unbearable as you hide under the shade of the bleachers.

Your fingers dragging along the cool metal as you strode down the path stumbling across a conversion between Max and Dustin, an odd pair you caught in the side of your eye.

You knew eavesdropping wasn't good but you were just so curious seeing the two friends chat.

"Why are you talking to me about this? I thought you hated me." You listened to Dustin practically squeak, though it was in a sad attempt of a whisper, his tone was forceful.

"I don't hate you. The one person I would normally talk to is literally, the only person who wouldn't really appreciate the topic at hand." Max stated simply.

Her posture slouched as her hands fidgeted with the buttons on her cassette player. You heard Dustin sigh, watching his hands gesture for her to continue speaking.

"It's about [Y/n]," you flinched, "I—she kissed me and I don't know what to do." You felt like you were going to throw up, your heart hammering in the mention of kissing Max, rushing away into the school's bathroom before you could hear anything else, and missing what Max said after, "and I think... I think I like-like her." Max would admit when you were no longer in your range of hearing.

The redhead was watching Dustin react as the screws and bolts inside of his mind went to work, his brows raising as he took a moment to process that Max was basically coming out to him.

"So you like her, like in the way you used to like Lucas?" Dustin asked, wanting to confirm if he was processing everything right.

If it weren't for the slight nod, Dustin also confirmed almost smiling when he noticed the pink tint in his friend's cheeks; he was not used to seeing the girl blush, let alone do anything but scowl.

"Why are you telling me and not her? She kissed you right? " Before the bell could ring, Dustin reached over and placed a supportive hand on her shoulder before standing up from the bleachers and leaving for his next class.

As you slammed the stall doors shut, your breathing picked up as you covered your mouth, your mind taking over Max’s words.

You were confused.

Why did Max blame you for the kiss? It had taken you the entire rest of your class hour to calm yourself down.

You knew skipping class in the bathroom stalls would get you in trouble if you had gotten caught or if the teachers called your parents the moment you got home about your absence, and that they did the moment you stepped foot into your home.

Your parents ground you as you stuttered and stumbled to come up with an excuse other than "sorry mom, I had a panic attack because I kissed a girl and now my entire life feels over. won't happen again."

The rest of your day secluded in your bedroom finishing homework came before you knew it, the hour you were dreading the most as an hour had swept by from your usual bedtime.

Max continued the routine as normal, only you were perched sitting against your headboard, your lamp turned on as you had finally noticed her arrival, setting down the book. You were scanning over the same page over and over on your lap.

"Hey," you whispered, as Max cautiously crawled to sit in front of you. A moment of silence broke between the two of you as you were quickly growing more anxious by the minute. "Just say it, Max," you say, your fingers trembling as you avoid making eye contact.

"What do you mean?" Max’s brows furrowed in confusion as her eyes peered at you.

"I heard what you told Dustin. That I kissed you? Why did you say that?" You finally snapped, your glare finally narrowing down at her as your knuckles clenched the book in your hands hard.

"Wait what—just let me explain," Max asked, her eyes pleading when you sighed.

"Okay," you agreed.

"I'm sorry for kissing you, and I'm not using you to move on from Lucas–this is all just so...confusing, I guess." Max’s hand raised on her temple as she exhaled a small breath, "I mean, I like you, and since the kiss, everything has sort of just changed for me. It's changed how I feel for you and what I want. And I guess hanging out with you made me realize the feelings I would normally have for Lucas…I have for you now." Taking your hands from her as she watched you handle her confession, your face stunned before reacting blushfully.

"Gosh dude, you're a piece of work," You muttered, your hands grasping more of Max’s touch.

"But even though you are, I like you too Max," you admitted, watching as she had struggled to cover her smile before just yanking you into an embrace as you tackled into her chest giggling like it was late at night.

It was the start of the not-so-perfect relationship you two had, but you both didn't want perfect, you just wanted each other, and that was all that mattered.

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#[ ⇢ ˗ˏˋ ★ — t.wrks. ]#stranger things #max mayfield #max mayfield x reader #max mayfield imagine #stranger things 4 #billy hargrove #lucas sinclair #mad max #sadie sink x reader #sadie sink #dustin henderson #fem reader #female reader #lgbtq #wlw

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icycoldninja · 4 months

Note

I’m such a Dante simp it hurts! So basically what about fem reader getting eloped/married to (younger dmc 1) Dante

Ahahahahaha sure, enjoy! 💜

Wedding day (DMC1!Dante x Fem!Reader)

You sucked in a deep breath, straightening your hair in the mirror and smoothing out some tiny wrinkles in your dress. You were nervous--rightfully so, as today was one of the biggest days of your life: Today, you were getting married to your boyfriend of several years, Dante. What was about to happen was something you'd dreamt of ever since you confessed your feelings to him, something you'd always imagined would happen. But now that the event was coming to pass, you were feeling more nervous than excited. So many possible outcomes, so many things could go wrong, so many what-if's, it made your brain hurt. You ran your hands over the long, sweeping skirt of your wedding gown and wondered if the wedding was going to go off the way you expected. Taking another deep breath, you steeled your quivering nerves and exited the dressing room, crossing the street and heading towards the church in which you and your fiance were to be wed. The church was made of white marble; you, Dante, and a couple friends decorated it with bouquets of white, red and pink flowers to spruce it up. You smiled, spotting the familiar faces of your friends and family grinning or at you as you made your way down the aisle, bridal bouquet in hand. Up ahead, standing at the altar, was the love of your life, actually wearing normal clothes for once. While you liked his usual badass outfits, there was something attractive about how he looked all dressed up like that. You couldn't keep the wide smile off your face as you took your place at his side before the altar, prompting the officiant to start speaking--something Dante completely ignored. "You look great." He whispered, smirking at you. You felt your cheeks flush and nodded, daring to reply in a hushed tone, "Thanks. You too." Dante winked at you before returning his attention to the officiant, who then asked the age-old traditional questions that were:

"Do you, Dante Sparda, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?"

"I do."

"Do you, Y/N L/N, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?"

"I do."

The officiant cleared his throat, turned a page in his book, and continued: "It is now time for you to exchange rings. Your rings symbolize the eternal commitment that you make to each other, and the never ending circle of your love. May these rings always remind you of the commitment you are making here today." He nodded at Dante, who immediately realized that was his cue to take out the rings. After fumbling in his pocket for a second, he produced two golden rings and gave one to you before slipping the other on your finger. Breathless with excitement, you took his hand in yours and slid the gold ring over his ring finger. Dante grinned up at you and returned his attention to the officiant, who went on to say, "By the power vested in me, I pronounce you husband and wife. You may now kiss the bride."

This was it. The moment you'd been waiting for; the moment you'd been dreaming of. You could barely contain yourself; your heart thumped away in your chest as Dante gently cupped your cheeks and drew you close to him, before pressing his lips against yours. You melted into the kiss; if you has not been holding a massive bunch of flowers, you would have thrown your arms around his neck in an attempt to be closer to him. The kiss lasted for a moment or so before you pulled away, beaming at each other. Everyone in the church stood and gathered around the altar, clapping and cheering. You tossed your bridal bouquet into the crowd before Dante swept you off your feet, expertly maneuvering his way through the crowd and to the door. The guests continued to cheer for you, laughing and congratulating your marriage all the way till you and Dante were out of sight.

You couldn't stop laughing all the way till the two of you reached your house--you were just so happy. You could feel it in your bones, this marriage was gonna be a happy one. A happy marriage that would last.

#Dmc1 #Dmc #Devil may cry #Devil may cry 1 #Dmc dante #Dmc1 dante #Devil may cry 1 dante #Dante x reader #Dante x reader fluff #Fluff #Fluffy #Cute #Marriage #Requested #thanks for requesting!#Icycoldninja writes #Fanfic #Fluffy fanfic #Dmc fanfic

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canariie · 1 year

Text

in law out(ing)

Rating: T

Synopsis: But what puzzled Toushiro more (and it was really too early for this), was that he was holding two fishing poles and wearing rubber boots.

“Why are you here?” Toushiro whispered venomously.

“Get ready! We’re going to the living world to fish!” Shinji responded cheekily, thrusting a pole and pair of boots in Toushiro’s unexpecting hands, as if that were answer enough.

“And why are we doing this?” he asked dubiously, inspecting the tools in his hands.

“Because we got to go when the fish are ‘bout to wake up!” Shinji rolled his eyes as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “We’re going to bond today! I got a whole list of activities for us to do.”

Toushiro muttered, “Is this your idea of bonding?”

…

Toushiro and Shinji have a day off to bond together (at Momo’s behest).

Word Count: 4290 words

Setting: established relationship, many decades after the last Bleach chapter

Prompt: @hitsuhina-week‘s Hitsuhina 2022 Gift Exchange

Authour’s Note: I’m so sorry that this is late! This is for @pinkhairedlily who requested Toushiro asking Shinji for Momo’s hand in marriage!

I kind of stepped back from the prompt a little bit but I do sincerly hope you enjoy it! I will admit, I am nervous because this is my first time writing Shinji and thinking of him (which is a lot harder than I thought), but it was a fun process.

Also shout out to Fuji Kaze’s Shinunoga E-Wa for being the unexpected mood setter!

—

“Hitsugaya-taicho, I have a favour to ask…” Momo drawled out, as she snuggled into her boyfriend’s side. It was a cold winter night and the two were sitting in bed, reading their respective books. Momo had introduced Toushiro to the concept of reading before bed and he had to admit that he had been enjoying the latest titles she bought for him in the real world. Before they went to sleep, she would eagerly ask him what he thought until he would have to gently remind her to go to sleep if it were too late.

But tonight, it seemed like she had other things on her mind. Ah the captain’s title... Hinamori must really want something.

“What is it?”

“I know there is a captain’s day off at the end of the week…” she said softly as she traced patterns on his collarbone. “I think it’d be nice if you would spend it with Hirako-taicho.”

“No.”

“But Hitsugaya-kun,” Well there goes the title—it was nice while it lasted.

“I already have plans,” he defended, continuing to read his book.

“What plans?”

“To…read,” he said, turning a page for emphasis.

Momo arched her eyebrow. “Rangiku-san told me that you were excited for the day off so you could catch up on archiving old reports…”

“Those are valid plans for a day off.”

The book was gently taken from his hands, and he looked up to see Momo leaning over him as she held his face in her hands. “Toushiro,” she whispered with such intensity that it made his mind stutter, especially as she leant over, her long hair cascading around him like a curtain.

“I know you two have not always seen eye to eye...” He scoffed, but Momo continued undeterred. “However, I think if you spent a little time with each other outside of work, you could get to know each other better.”

She moved closer until Toushiro could see sparks flicker in her brown eyes, and feel warmth shoot down his core.

“You are my most important person and it would mean the world to me if you got along better with my captain.”

Toushiro raised a skeptical eyebrow.

Momo rolled her eyes. “The last one didn’t count.”

He said nothing, but Momo knew he was thinking it deeply over. She kissed his cheek. “Please?”

Toushiro knew that Momo knew exactly what she was doing. But even he had to admit that her words stirred something inside him. Toushiro sighed in defeat.

Momo smiled, knowing she had gotten him to cave in. She dipped down and kissed him deeply, melting into him and making him see warm sparks behind his eyes.

“Most important person, huh?” he breathed when they separated.

She rolled her eyes playfully. “Yes, what of it?”

Momo yelped as Toushiro pulled her waist down, until she was cradled by him in his lap.

He bent down, his eyes deepening to a dark emerald. “You have always been my most important person—even before I knew it.”

Momo blushed, a silly smile on her face as she tucked her face into his neck.

He sighed in faux lament, “But—know that you owe me.”

She smiled with a knowing glint in her eyes, pulling his face down towards hers. “I’m sure I can think of a way to make it up.”

---

Toushiro grumbled as a loud knocking persisted at his door. It was his day off and he had been hoping to sleep in. He glared out his window, where it was still completely pitch black outside—but that did not deter the loud noise.

“What is it?” Toushiro growled as he stumbled out of bed and pulled the door roughly aside.

He had to blink twice to make sure he wasn’t dreaming.

The fifth captain, Shinji Hirako, stood in front of him with a maddingly toothy grin. But what puzzled Toushiro more (and it was really too early for this), was that he was holding two fishing poles and wearing rubber boots.

“Why are you here?” Toushiro whispered venomously.

“Get ready! We’re going to the living world to fish!” Shinji responded cheekily, thrusting a pole and pair of boots in Toushiro’s unexpecting hands, as if that were answer enough.

“And why are we doing this?” he asked dubiously, inspecting the tools in his hands.

Toushiro muttered, “Is this an idea your idea of bonding?”

“This is mandatory for all officers in the Fifth Division. But I’d never wake my darling lieutenant this early—I’d give her another hour at least.”

Toushiro scowled deeply. “Don’t call her darling,” he said darkly—before slamming the door shut.

---

Toushiro had never seen the water so early in the morning. It was twilight, the sky blurring into a gentle blue. There was a sense that the sun was edging onto the horizon, but it still felt far and distant.

After they had stopped for coffee (which the older captain had the decency to pay for since Toushiro was still in a foul mood from being groused so early in the morning without warning), even he had to begrudgingly admit, that it was quite serene.

He did not expect the fifth division captain to have an itinerary for the day. Toushiro’s plans for the day was to just hop over to the Fifth, ask the captain to accompany him for tea (in front of Momo so she could see that yes, he was making an attempt at interaction) and finish that up in an hour and a half max—so he could go and work on archiving old reports the rest of the day.

Because to be frank, Toushiro would have rather spent the day off with Momo. They hadn’t had time alone to go out for a long time and that for him was a much more desirable way to spend his time off.

Instead, he was sitting in a fold out chair, clutching a fishing pole on a wooden dock at five in the morning as Shinji explained the wisdom of fishing.

“The key is to be patient. They’ll come to you but ya got to wait—otherwise you’ll miss your chance,” the blond captain explained as he raised his pole and swung, the line flying through air before making a gentle plop in the water.

Toushiro restrained himself from rolling his eyes but followed similarly.

“When ya reel the rod, keep the line taut. If you do it too quickly, the fish can break away and ya lose the line,” Shinji demonstrated by pulling taut the line of the string. The older captain was lounging in his chair, sleeves rolled up to the elbow and leg crossed over knee, the perfect pose of relaxation.

“If we rush,” Shinji continued, “we get ahead of ourselves—which only hurts in the long run.”

Toushiro found himself drifting back to the war in the sky as he stared at the ripples in the water. It had been years, but time only eased the pain—it did not erase it. Though they were high up in the clouds, fighting an invisible battle, at that moment it was a grounding in reality.

He had been younger, rash and naïve. He thought he could kill Soul Society’s traitorous felon.

He was gravely mistaken.

Toushiro despised Aizen with every aching bone in his body. But he loathed himself more for being goaded into swinging the first blade. Feeling rage boil into him, all he could see was red as he rushed at Aizen first.

“When did you get so wise?” Toushiro asked sarcastically. He pulled at the rod—nothing yet.

Shinji laughed shortly. “Years of exile—gives ya time to think.” He took a sip of coffee. “We tried many things, wore many hats—all to survive. And one of them was fishing.”

Shinji leaned over and stage whispered, “We weren’t exactly earning money in conventional ways,” he tightened the lock of the pole shrugging his shoulders in an exaggerated fashion, “so we learned new skills.”

“Unfortunately, Hiyori can’t sit still for a minute—so she was banned from all fishing trips,” Shinji explained with faux diplomacy.

With his brief interactions with the short woman, Toushiro was not surprised.

And back in the battle, she had paid for her rashness. Though they didn’t know each other, the enemy of an enemy was an ally—and in that moment he could feel blood run cold seeing her severed half fall through the sky. In the end, it was all a cruel reminder and prelude to his own downfall.

Shinji watched the tent captain, whose eyes were distant and out on the horizon. He had a feeling of what was going through the young man’s head. It reminded the older captain of a time, very soon after the first war had finished, that those eyes held a similar pain.

Shinji stifled a yawn as he headed back to the Fifth Division headquarters. It was late into the night and he had just returned from the World of Living. Kyoraku-soutaicho insisted on a channel of constant communication with the Vizards that were still in the living world, so he sent Shinji on diplomatic visits. But the blond captain knew that behind smiles and pleasant reason, it was just to keep aware of possible treachery. Though many of them were working for the Thirteen Division Guards, there was always some underlying suspicion.

Well—it didn’t bother him too much. It was an excuse to go to the Living World during working hours.

He opened the door and immediately wished he had arrived later.

The white-haired captain didn’t notice Shinij. He was standing behind Momo’s desk, who was fast asleep, a brush in her hands and head resting on paperwork. Shinji watched as the young boy placed a blanket over her shoulders, barely touching her, before shifting the candle flame away from her.

The lone light of the room casted dark shadows over Toushiro’s face, obscuring his eyes from Shinji.

He looked up, and at the sight of the Fifth captain his teal eyes went wide, like a deer in headlights.

“Can I help you?” Shinji asked to cut the tension in the room.

And just like the flicker of the shadow, the tenth captain narrowed his eyes, the shock completely gone. “Are you working her late?”

Shinji wanted to roll his eyes but held back, knowing that probably wouldn’t bode well with the other captain. “No. I told her those could be finished tomorrow.”

Toushiro nodded, still holding his glare at Shinji. A moment of silence. “I dropped off the reports for you to sign,” he said shortly, which made Shinji think if it was deliberate the young captain came late, since those weren’t due for a couple days. Toushiro made his way towards the exit, arms tucked into his sleeves, leaving no more room for conversation.

“Aren’t ya going to Matsumoto’s party?” Shinji asked. The tenth division lieutenant had invited people to go out to drink to celebrate the news of Renjii and Rukia’s engagement.

The white-haired boy stopped. “No.” Toushiro looked over his shoulder. “It’d be better if I didn’t go.”

Shinji waited until he left before he made his way over to his vice-captain, gently shaking her awake.

“Hmm, Taicho?” she mumbled, sleep still evident in her voice. “What are you doing here?”

“I could ask ya the same thing,” he responded, pulling the brush out of her hand. “C’mon—let’s take you home.”

Momo made no protest as she stood up, her short hair sticking out in various directions that reminded Shinji of a dry paint brush.

“Someone from tenth division dropped the reports over—you won’t have to go tomorrow morning to pick them up.”

“Oh okay…” Momo looked down, pursing her lips in confusion. “Taicho, did you put this over me?” She asked as she shifted the blanket, looking at it forlornly.

He looked at her, contemplating how much to say. “No, I didn’t.”

“…okay,” she said, sounding more awake but further away than before.

Seeing how her shoulders deflated, he gently led her up out of her seat. “How about we stop by to say hi at Matsumoto’s—and if ya don’t want to stick around, I’ll walk you back,” Shinji remarked as he blew out the candle.

For Shinji, who was returning to an old post after many years, he knew it wasn’t his place to be involved. He was just relearning the ropes with a new lieutenant following behind his back. Besides getting over the urge to resist looking over his shoulder, he and Momo were still learning to be in each other’s presence.

There were bumps in the road, of course. (He still never could forget the dubious look she gave him when he suggested to cut her hair—the first time that she had shown such strong disbelief outside of her usual polite diplomacy.) The beginning was just making sure not to step too far out of line with each other. But the line gradually faded, and they fell into a routine together. Now, he considered himself lucky to have a competent soldier like her working beside him.

A slight tug at the pole broke Shinji from his revere, pulling him forward at the edge of his chair.

“Look, look!”

Toushiro could only watch as Shinji steadily reeled in the line, the fish thrashing about and sending waves through the water. It slipped out of the water just as the sun broke the horizon, the scales of the fish glistening in a yellow glow.

“See—what’d I tell ya?” He grinning holding up the fish before depositing it in his bucket.

Toushiro looked to his own pole and pulled on it, but only string came with the bait missing from the hook.

“Well…we can’t be prodigies at everything,” Shinji said flippantly.

---

Toushiro didn’t know what sort of itinerary the Fifth Captain had for the day. The white-haired man was dragged to random locations around Karakura Town: the barber shop (“this is where I learned to cut hair!” Shinji pointed out while he sat for a quick trim), the hardware store (“Kensei needed a new grate for his BBQ” the blond man defended at Toushiro’s raised eyebrow), a bookstore (Toushiro looked away in embarrassment as Shinji picked up Yadamoru-taicho’s magazine subscription) and the post office (“Need to check my PO box if anything’s come in,” he claimed, peering in the box and pulling out a wad of bills). Shinji seemed to have a secret agenda because he kept on picking things up at small shops along the way. But if Toushiro hadn’t known better—it was as if the man were doing his errands for the day and just having him tag along.

The bell chimed as they entered an unassuming record store. There were rows of wooden boxes, teeming with layers of records. Faded posters were pasted on every inch of the wall to the point that one couldn’t recognize the original wall colour. An old man smiled warmly at them from behind the counter as Shinji greeted him like he were family.

“This is one of the greatest secrets in this town—the man, Jiro-san, knows every single thing about every record in this store,” Shinji said with distinct glee in his voice before starting to peruse the albums. “I try to bring Momo here every other month—to get new music for the office.”

Toushiro felt his interest pique. For the most part, he had remained silent for the day as Hirako had talked enough about random facts and snippets of his human life to fill the gap. Besides offering a few signs of acknowledgment, Toushiro was happy to have Hirako lead the conversation, so he didn’t have to.

But hearing Momo’s name reminded him that this man had a close relationship with her—and it started at the time that his own relationship with her was strained.

He remembered those initial childish feelings of jealousy, seeming to try to find fault in everything of the new captain. From his asymmetrical haircut to his unsettling smile and tongue piercing, Toushiro didn’t understand how such a sleazy looking character could lead a division, let alone bring Momo out from her lowest point. He knew that it wasn’t smooth in the beginning. But Toushiro watched from a distance as Momo seemed to brighten more and more until she was back to her cheerful self—now with the addition of brazenly admonishing her captain. He was in awe of how quickly she became confident but more so, how comfortable she was with this foreign character.

“How often did you come?” Toushiro asked, trying to not to show too much interest.

Shinji continued on as held an album up, inspecting its tracklist. “Well, Momo wasn’t initially a fan of listening to music in the office. But once I got her started on some Ella Fitzgerald, she started to dig it more. Now she sometimes comes on her own to get records. She’ll surprise me with her own choices—I tell ya’ she’s got an ear for talent. I even got her to agree to go to a jazz festival with the rest of us this summer.”

Toushiro had his back turned, looking down at the labels but not quite seeing their names.

“How did you get her to open up?”

Shinji raised an eyebrow, looking behind him to see the white-haired man staring intently at the music. If he hadn’t seen the rigidity of his back, it may have seemed normal.

Shinji sighed.

“I was just there,” he simply said. “I didn’t leave.”

He watched as the younger man tense up further, before briskly putting down the album and walking out of the store. “I’ll be outside,” Shinji heard called out before the ring of the bell chimed in the silence that ensued at the sudden departure.

Shinji wasn’t surprised, and looking back maybe he could have chosen his words better. But he knew this was something long brewing and coming. He pulled out his phone, typing out a quick text message, as he called out to the store owner. “Jiro-san, I’ll be taking these! You keep me informed of any new vinyl shipments when you get some! My daughter will pick them up.”

Shinji found him outside, sitting on the bench in the park, with his hands tucked deep into his jacket. The only signs of life were the soft white puffs of air that he breathed out from above his scarf. Shinji walked over, the grocery bags swinging against his knee and it was only when he was in front of the man that Toushiro seemed to come out of a daze. Toushiro wordlessly accepted the coffee Shinji offered before his turquoise eyes brightened in recognition at the packet in the older man’s other hand.

“Those are the ones that Matsumoto likes…”

Shinji sat down and opened the orange packet. “Yeah, these cookies are really addicting. I introduced them to Momo last time we visited the World of the Living and we haven’t stopped eating them. She must’ve given them to Matsumoto.” He gestured the open packet to the young man, who took the cookie quietly.

They drank their coffee in silence. The golden string lights around them began to flicker as the sky turned to dusk, and like clockwork, it lightly began to snow. Families emerged around the winter street food vendors, talking animatedly as young children ran around, leaving prints in the snow build up.

Shinji could tell Toushiro wanted to say something because his eyes would flit over to him and he’d open his mouth before closing it. But Shinji paid no mind and continued to drink his coffee. He was in no rush at all, he was just waiting for what he knew the young man would say.

“I was jealous of you,” Toushiro finally confessed in a low voice, “of how you were able to make her smile again. You picked her up—when I was the one that hurt her the most.”

Shinji knew there was hurt on both sides. It didn’t take a genius to know that while his lieutenant was adjusting to being back to work, there was still something missing. He could see it in her eyes every time she looked outside at the snow. When there were joint meetings, he would catch her looking towards the tenth company, her sad eyes following the young captain around.

“It wasn’t only me,” Shinji replied. “Matsumoto was always there. Kira & Renji too.” He paused and looked at him straight in the eyes. “But she really wasn’t her full self until you two reconciled.”

“Hirako…”

“Forget your self-pity parade—it’ll do ya no good,” Shinji said, not unkindly. “I’ve been there—it damn hurts, I know. But ya hurt the people you care about more with your absence than with your actions.”

Toushiro stared at Shinji as he took a long sip of coffee. “Get up and move on from your past mistakes; that’s what it means to be a man.” He found himself remembering the way he held Hiyori’s body in his hands, feeling like his world was on a precipice. Never had he ever felt in that moment, the strongest desire to reverse everything, to reverse time itself, before they had changed, before he had ruined their lives forever. It was only when she had hit him with his slipper at his bowed head, that he could see the stupidity in his own wallowing—something he had seen in the young captain too.

“But ya have to promise me one thing—you won’t leave her again,” Shinji spoke with such solemnity that Toushiro’s emerald eyes hardened in determination.

“I won’t.”

The blond man shrugged his shoulder. “Then ya don’t need to apologize to me for nothing.”

Toushiro regarded the man for a long time, before nodding in acceptance.

“Thank you Hirako…for everything.” He had said it so quietly that Shinji thought he almost imagined it.

He smiled in smug satisfaction. “I now give you permission to marry my daughter.”

The young captain scowled, his face turning dark like a thunder cloud. “She is not your daughter.”

“Regardless, you still have my permission,” Shinji waved away.

“Hiarko-taicho!”

The two captains turned to see the fifth division lieutenant running towards them through the crowd, her long hair flowing behind her. Shinji held back a smirk as he watched the young captain stare at the girl in her human clothes, a warm red coat on top of a white dress.

“Hitsugaya-taicho…? What are you doing here?” Momo asked, a furrow in her eyebrows as she looked in confusion between her boyfriend and captain. “I thought I was just meeting Hirako-taicho? You sent a text saying to dress up?”

Shinji applauded himself inwardly for the look on the young captain’s face was priceless.

Before he could say anything else, Shinji gently led his vice-captain away. “Momo, you finished all the reports right?”

“Yes, I made sure to do so, but Taicho why did you call me here?” She looked back at the 10th captain, biting her lip in concern. “Is everything alright with Hitsugaya-kun?”

He could feel the smile slide onto his face at the expression of worry on her face. “Nothing wrong at all—just some good man to man bonding.”

Momo raised an eyebrow dubiously at her captain to which he replied. “I played nice—don’t worry.” He ruffled her hair affectionately. “Go spend the rest of the evening with him. I’ll see you in office on Monday.”

She looked up, her brown eyes in question as she smoothed out her hair. “But what about working tomorrow?”

Shinji threw his thumb back and rolled his eyes in faux exasperation. “You’ve worked enough to take some time off. He’ll sulk if I don’t let you off.”

Momo broke out into a huge grin, her brown eyes twinkling like the glowing lights. “Really?” She paused, as if reconsidering. “But what about the other reports?”

“I’ll go and finish them—you’ve worked enough.”

“Thank you Taicho!” Momo beamed which made him ruffle her hair again as she protested. “You’ve picked a good one—he cares for you.” At this, Momo blushed until her face turned as red as her coat. “Thank you Taicho for agreeing to spend time with him,” she said earnestly. “It really means a lot to me.”

He shrugged his shoulders in defeat. “Ya owe me—I get to choose the music for the next two weeks!”

Momo flashed a brilliant smile. “You got a deal!”

Toushiro smiled as his girlfriend rushed back to him with a bounce in her steps. “I just got a text from Matsumoto saying she booked us a place for tonight? Did Hirako have anything to do about it?” He asked as he tightened the scarf around her neck that had come loose in her run.

“Hirako-taicho,” Momo corrected. “But yes, he said I can have the weekend off so we can spend time together in the human world! Isn’t that wonderful?”

Toushiro took her hand, interlacing his fingers with hers. “Come on—let’s get out of here. There’s a bookstore I want to show you,” he said smiling as her eyes widened in glee, before jumping into a long set of questions on how his day was. And as he answered them, he thought that maybe it wasn’t that bad a day after all.

—

Authour’s Note: So, when I first received the prompt I had to think about it a lot because to be frank, I don’t think Toushiro would ever actually ask Shinji for Momo’s hand in marriage. I think Shinji would just appoint himself to give it hahaha (I also believe that it is referenced that Shinji refers to Momo as his daughter in the novel We do KNOT always love you. I’ll try to find the link soon and update it here)

I’m nervous with this one but I hope people at least enjoyed seeing how the two closest men to Momo see each other (and in a way respect each other) when it comes to her well-being. I definitely enjoyed writing Shinji! It gave me a reason to be antagonistic towards Toushiro in a playful manner but give advice in a straight forward, not unkind way. But I definitely think I still need to practice writing him. I also really enjoyed writing all his errands haha

Hope you enjoyed it!

#hitsuhina #hitsuhina gift exchange 2022 #canariie: my fics #shinji hirako #toushiro hitsugaya #momo hinamori #but also the music of the moment was the on hold music as I try to change my flight hahaha #also another reason to finish this soon!!#but i really hope you liked it!#pinkhairedlily

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sfw-mcu · 2 years

Text

Part 1

Part 2

Harry and the Tickling Charm

Drarry fic

The next morning, Harry and Draco refused to look at each other, much less speak. Hermione almost immediately noticed the lack of snarky comments, and asked Harry tactfully about it. "Oh, that twit hasn't said anything? I hadn't noticed. The quiet is lovely." Harry said, his voice squeaking ever so slightly. Draco was also questioned, to which he of course proptly replied shut up.

He saw Harry in the Halls several times before Charms class, and he averted his eyes every time. He couldn't ignore the feeling which bubbled up inside him every time he saw Harry, so he decided to deny it instead. When they got to Charms, Hermione and Ron saw the lines forming and followed suit, but both were quite surprised to see the enemies facing each other. Ron noticed it much later than 'Mione of course, being so much less observant.

Harry and Draco faced each other, but both looked in other directions, the taller at the wall, the shorter at the floor. "Take your wands out, line B. You will be practicing today," said Flitwick, who after clearing his throat, added, "Hopefully there won't be any more incidents today."

Draco blushed, something he would later adamantly deny, and Harry simply let out an awkward chuckle. This got the other two members of the golden trio even more confused, what were they both so embarrassed about? Hermione filed it away to discuss later, and Ron soon forgot about it. Harry was twirling his wand in his hand, and Draco was fixing and refixing his hair.

"You may now cast Rictusempra." Wands swished down the line, and a murmured rictusempra fell. Draco, trying desperately to keep his composure as the sensation hit his neck, only succeeded in making himself snort before pouring giggles out like a fountain. And like a fountain it was, for it was bubbly, joyful even, and the first time most people had seen the stoic boy genuinely laugh.

Harry felt the same flutter in his chest that he had read about in so many books. (All that time in a closet led to a lot of reading.) He felt himself wanting to smile along with the other. Who wouldn't, looking at the pretty face scrunched up in giggles, shoulders high, trying desperately to remove the ticklish sensation from his neck.

Harry got a sudden curiosity, and let his wand travel down, to where Draco's hips met his stomach, which, to Harry's delight, made Draco's laughter pour from his mouth, forcing him to slowly fall to his knees, clutching around himself, as the ticklish sensation slowly drove him mad. Draco, unlike Harry, was far too proud to plead even as his lungs were failing him, but as he fell to the ground in ticklish agony Harry realized he should let up.

He let the spell travel back into his wand, and he stepped across the aisle, blissfully unaware of the silent glances exchanged all around, and he helped the blonde to his feet, not being able to resist "accidentally" fluttering his fingers against the taller boy's ribs, not being shocked when Draco bent over once more, and gently swatted his hand away as he murmured a quiet "Stohoopp!" that made Harry's heart melt.

He then left the boy alone as his own blush crept up to his ears, and the other was red from laughter, stark against his pale face. This didn't, however, prevent them from stealing glances at each other as they were placing their things away. Harry certainly had some explaining to do, Hermione thought as she lifted her own books and headed down the hall. She tactfully waited, though, so as to save face for Harry.

Later that afternoon, however, out on the grounds, she instantly attacked him with questions such as, "What in the bloody hell was that Harry?" and "What is going on between you two?" "Why did you seem so happy?" among others. He couldn't answer any of them, and shyly shook his head, before going to his room to think. Harry could never see Draco the same way again. Draco, meanwhile, was having similar thoughts in his own dorm room.

@veryblushyswitch Here's pt 2, it was kinda rushed but here ya go! Hope ya like it.

#Part 2 #ticklish!draco #drarry tickle #ler!Harry #lee!draco #sfwtickling #tickle fic

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lorkai · 2 years

Note

May I request Satan, Belphie or Barbatos comforting his darling who is stressed from school? Sorry about my broken english, it's not my first language!

A/N: Quite relatable, really. I've also been stressing over my grades and this request was comforting to me, as I hope it will be comforting to people who are in the same situation. Btw I chose Barbatos because I thought it suits this request better, I hope you like it!

“I had been awaiting your return, welcome home, Mc!"

Barbatos' voice snapped you out of your trance instantly. The backpack slipped off your shoulders and found its place on the floor as you walked toward him, your arms open as if you were asking for a hug that only he could offer. And he promptly wrapped you in a tight, warm hug and let your head rest on his chest. Your expression said everything he needed to know; bad day, bad week.

It was nice to have someone who cared, you thought as you sank deeper into the warmth and peaceful feeling you felt. And when you finally parted from him with a small, tired smile, you noticed how relatively tidier your room was. The books, pens and notes were on the study table once again, since in your rush to wake up and go to school you dropped everything on the floor and forgot to put it in the designated place again. The covers, sheets and curtains had all been changed and you could smell cleaning product in the air. And at that moment your heart sank.

It was such a hurried and difficult month, the last exams were just around the corner and you hadn't understood almost anything about the subject. Endless hours of study weren't good for you, yet you were pushing whatever limits you had in hopes of getting good grades. You didn't want to let anyone down, but mostly you didn't want to let yourself down, knowing you could have done better. And you were unable to notice your own tears falling until you heard your own sobs and felt yourself being enveloped once more in the careful arms of your beloved demon.

“I smell exhaustion.” He murmured against your neck. Leaving a lingering kiss on the region that made you sigh and melt under his touch. He was able to hear your heartbeat slowly relaxing and he smiled, kissing the top of your head. “Want to vent to me?”

His green eyes told you everything you needed to know; he was there to listen to you vent or just to keep you company. He was there to hold your hand and to kiss your tears away and you nodded, you had reached your limit a long time ago. You kicked your shoes off your feet and crossed your legs as you sat up in bed, looking at the floor and trying to find the right words for everything that was going on.

“It's... It's like... In class I can't understand anything, even though I pay full attention, even though I write everything down. It's as if the words went in through my left ear and completely out of my right ear, without me remembering or understanding what they mean." You tried to explain, tiredness consuming you as you sank deeper and deeper into the warmth Barbatos offered you, his lap being the perfect pillow for a quick nap. “So I went and exceeded my limits. I don't want to get up, I don't want to study and I certainly don't want to take another test. But... But as an exchange student this it's necessary.”

Barbatos hummed. Maybe to show he agreed with you and his hand found its way to your face and his fingers were quick to navigate all over, lightly massaging your entire face to get rid of the built up tension. That moment was certainly one of the most precious for you, so many thoughts and feelings were pouring through your eyes and the knots that tied your throat were finally unraveling, unraveling in loud sobs. It hurt and yet, it was necessary to let it all out.

"A failed test is a problem, it's true." Barbatos whispered. “But it's remediable, something that's not important if we look at it all through another lens, the same can't be said for your physical and mental health. You need sleep, my love. You need to take care of yourself before you think about anything else.”

You almost wanted to laugh. It was impossible. Even now your mind was still telling you to get up and keep studying all night, even if your limbs were heavy as lead, even if your stomach churned with nervousness. But there was a grain of truth that your weary mind saw in Barbatos' words. And here with him everything seemed more bearable, easier. The way his fingers trailed over your face, the comfort of his thighs that served as your pillow, and the low hum of a lullaby you've heard him singing to Luke. It was all perfect.

“Barb!” You called to him, voice tired and slurred.

Could you really afford that privilege? Would you allow yourself?

“What is it, my dear?”

And the answer was simple, unique.

“Stay with me until I wake up, please?”

The smile in his voice as he nodded almost brought a smile to your face as well. You both went under the covers and when his arms went around your waist, your head hit the soft pillow and he whispered an I’m proud of you and I love you quietly, resting his face on your neck you could already feel yourself sleeping. True and lasting sleep, even though your worries followed you there, when you woke up they were nothing but meaningless abstract things.

The exams would still be on your doorstep. But you knew you had Barbatos by your side to vent and ask for help, and holding his face in your hands you placed a kiss on his forehead. It was your way of saying thank you for everything.

#obey me shall we date #obey me one master to rule them all #obey me #obey me barbatos #obey me barbatos x mc #obey me barbatos x reader #barbatos x reader #barbatos x mc #hurt / comfort #lorkai imagine

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regulationbluebunny · 8 months

Text

FFXIV write day 7: Noisome

Summary: ghost ship ft. My friend and my ocs

G - CWs: none

Day 7

"The third emperor of Doma," Farim told them, not because he thought they were interested but because he needed to do something or he'd betray the fact that he had a very uneasy stomach that was not at all the fault of the ocean swell. "Sanshiro Matsumoto. He was said to have made contact with the Regent of Wyr Nosca, way back before it was Limsa. They had become friends via letter, and Matsumoto took to the sea to share the wealth of his culture."

"I'm assuming he never made it," Gwen said as she rolled out a line in a single whipping motion, ready to tie off to the larger vessel as it came near.

"No," Farim agreed. "Everyone assumed it was pirates, of course, but no artifacts showed up on the markets, not even melted down gold. He'd just disappeared. Not even a storm could be blamed."

"Things worse than storms out here," Lorrimer said matter of factly as he rowed.

Farim couldn't help but agree. Their skiff skirted gently closer to the hull of the monstrous vessel before him and they were near enough that he began to make out symbols in emerald green lining the four towering sails. It was a long thing, slender and sleek and frighteningly fast, with hundreds of depressions for oars that no longer had men to work them. A structure rose from the deck in red and gold like a temple. It might have been beautiful, once. The ship was a military vessel in the way that a sword of gems and inlay was a fighting weapon. It left a thin, churning wake like the cut of a knife, but Farim got the sense that it was unshakeable, that the hull descended malms to brush gently against the floor of the ocean. He shuddered.

"You took the book from it? " He asked. "And nothing happened?"

"You superstitious, lad?" Ninita asked.

"I think few are more aware of the laws of exchange than myself," he muttered.

She nodded her approval. It seemed to be one of the few things they agreed on. Not many were more particular about tempting fate than a sailor or a gambler, and these folks were both.

Arild flipped their buoys over the side and Farim winced as the rope insulated glass ground against red paint. He glanced back toward their caravel, knowing his chance to turn back had long come and gone. Even from the ocean he could feel the oppressive stillness of the strange ship. It felt like a held breath. He half expected the sound of gunfire to explode out from above at any second, but the only assault was the smell of rotting wood and sour mold.

Gwen's next tug on the line made it crack against the wood and the sound echoed between the vessels like a gunshot. He jumped, but he didn't look around to see if anyone had noticed. This was absolutely the sort of thing he knew he shouldn't be dealing with. He was terrified. It wasn't greed that motivated him necessarily, though he admitted that might have been part of it. The thrum of adrenaline ran through his bloodstream like the sweetest wine. Gwen caught his eye with a grin that seemed to say so much for the bookworm you make yourself out to be. He refused to give her the satisfaction of agreeing.

Gwen elbowed him gently in the ribs. The catch hook was in her hands and ready to toss. "You ready? " she asked.

"Let's go," he said with a bravado that he did not feel at all.

#ffxivwrite2023 #ffxiv #dee writes

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her-leading-man · 2 years

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Hi HLM, how did you come to learn that you were a dominant in the context of the lifestyle? I'm not entirely sure if I am a dom but, I have noticed my tendencies to want to control my partner sexually (they enjoy it). Some guidance would be well received, thanks.

First, I should say that I had no idea that Power Exchange relationships existed until I was in my mid-30's. I was rooted in the Southern Baptist church and was taught (and personally taught) the typical patriarchy trope that wives were supposed to be submissive to their leading husbands. The problem was that I didn't see that in my own marriage and honestly didn't see that modeled in any of the lives of my fellow church members with the possible exception of a Pastor and his wife. But even if they lived that dynamic, I highly doubt that there was a kink component. So for most of my life, I felt like no one that I knew was living as "god" designed.

On the other hand, I had always been viewed as a leader in the community, church and even back in high school where I was Class President, quarterback, captain and even valedictorian. So early in my career, I was paying my dues, but got to the point in my small company where I was the leader. Increasingly it felt like I had been leading in all aspects of life except for my home life. It was a consistent point of frustration. But even then, I never new that there were men who were natural leaders and even more that there was a subset of women who absolutely love and adore a naturally Dominant Leader.

That all changed when the 50 Shades Books became popular and I suddenly saw women reading the books. There was a lot of dialogue within the church about how bad the books were but also a lot of women who admitted to being turned on to the Power Exchange dynamic and the related kink. At one point, I was chatting with a young woman and she said she wanted nothing more to be my perfect submissive wife. She said she wanted to kneel before me. She said she wanted to sit in "Daddy's lap." My heart literally melted as it resonated so much. No one had ever talked to me like that. So I actually went out and Googled "Submissive wife" and that was an eye opening experience. I soon discovered FetLife and later Tumblr. I started reading as much as I could. I read writers like @domwithpen and tried to learn about how to be a good Dominant. It is not in my nature to not settle for good; I wanted to be the best. I started writing on my own as an outlet for my own thoughts about the life I wanted to live. A life that didn't seem attainable at first. But as my original blog became more and more popular, I became more committed to making hard life changes that would make it a possibility. I had D/s experiences that were meaningful as they were confirming what I knew about myself. The level of personal fulfillment that I felt left no doubt in my mind. I say that knowing I shouldn't have had many of these experiences. Later, I was humbled and brought down in a big way. My blog had to be deleted. So many of my written hopes and dreams were lost. Ultimately, I did what I had to do to make those dreams a reality. But in this process, I hurt some people that I loved. I lost my religious beliefs and happily left the church. I still live with the guilt of that, but I am also committed to being a good Dominant now that I am free to live that life.

So that is my history in a nutshell. My advice to you now is to see D/s as more than just being in control in the bedroom. That may be the sizzle, but it isn't the steak. Sizzle will not nourish your soul and it certainly will not nourish a true submissive who needs your leadership in every aspect of life. Don't let the desire for control be your motivating desire. Let the desire to be a true and good leader drive your actions. A true submissive will find you, and only then, will you experience the beauty of her full submission. Good luck to you on your own journey and thank you for the Ask.

HLM Oct. 2022

#my life

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nicephere · 2 years

Text

Chapter 4

Day 8

𓆩 Eleni 𓆪

Even days later I couldn't stop thinking of that kiss. How his lips felt on mine. How he dominated the kiss. Especially that. My earlier resolution to keep my distance melted to nothing as soon as they touched.

And that wasn't a one-off thing anymore. I’d been living here for five days or so and had become more and more comfortable with asking for things in exchange for kisses. I knew what kind of messed up game he was playing but I simply couldn't resist. There was a kind of heat in me whenever I spied the desire in his eyes

It wasn't as if I was going anywhere anytime soon. So, what's the harm in a few kisses. Even though I was sure he at least was acquainted or worked with my father. No one would ever know beyond the walls around me.

And isn't it a good thing walls can't talk.

I'd gotten used to the new routine. I would be alone most of the night but in the morning, Nyx would come with a new basket of food and some gifts. Frankly, I had no idea what time of day it was actually as there was no clock, and I had no windows. But Nyx said he comes in the morning and leaves in the afternoon. That was the closes thing I had to a clock, I supposed.

I had woken up a while ago, bathed in the pool and dressed myself into one of the new dresses Nyx brought me. This was the gold number I’d wanted and it was by far my favourite. It fell in thin layered fabrics with cream trim around my waist and hips- held by gold straps at my shoulders. The neckline wasn't very high though, but it wasn't as if anyone would really see me. The slit on the side, however, I attributed to Nyx's rakish taste. But among the gowns in the wardrobe, this one felt the most comfortable. Even if it could be considered racy.

He'd also brought me jewellery and hair adornments. All of which I was delighted to receive. So, after my bath, I brushed and styled my curly hair into an up-do held with a gold band and decorated comb. I’d put on a pair of earrings that had a chain connecting from the cuff at the top of my ear to the lobe. I decided a necklace and bracelet would be too much for the outfit, so I'd opted for an ankle on the leg where the slit was to balance it out. Nyx had said he was bringing perfumes today, I honestly didn't care which one as long as it smelt nice.

There were only so many things I could occupy myself with during the day. And by now I'd read at least a quarter of the books Nyx had provided. I wondered how long it would take for me to lose my mind from the quiet that follows.

I knew he was trying his best to keep me happy. Bringing something new for me every day. I used to occupy her days with sewing, music and her pets in the Day court. But I have none of that now. Perhaps those would be the things I would ask him to bring next time.

i was sat at the armchair engrossed in a book when Nyx approached. Surprisingly I hadn't noticed him come in.

I looked up from my book and smiled. "Good morning."

He returned it with an even more dazzling grin. "Good morning... what are you reading?"

"Just something I found on the shelf." I replied setting the book down.

He hummed and pulled out the basket as well as a box. "I've brought the perfumes you wanted."

The box was of a simple black with a pattern engraved. Inside lay three perfume bottles with amber liquid inside.

"Try one." He prompted.

I opened the lids of each to smell them and sprayed the second one on my clothes and neck. That would be my favourite. It was a luxurious scent.

𓆩 Nyx 𓆪

I watched her with the new gifts with a content expression lining my features. I prepared the breakfast plate the way I'd learnt she liked it and set it in front of her on the small table by the armchair. "Eat."

Though a small act, her obedience stirred something in me again. Heat lingering by my loins.

Eleni hadn't realised it, but she'd become far less argumentative and more obedient. When I told her to sleep, she would sleep. When I told her to eat, she would eat. Of course, if I made her aware of this, she would actively try to combat everything I told her to do.

Not that I would let her.

Soon there was going to be very little she could disobey me with. I'd make sure of that.

While she ate, I observed the room. She kept it neat and clean. I supposed that with no one to talk to, cleaning occupied a nice chunk of her long day.

Though technically it was night now. But I'd already convinced her it was morning now. So, she's always awake whenever I came to visit her.

Nearly a week had passed, and no one noticed me leaving at night. The situation at the Day Court hadn't calmed down and Helion was sure his daughter had been kidnapped.

He was right of course. But he'll never find her.

Nor will she ever leave. There's no way for her to anyway. I had sealed off the entrances to her chambers so the only way to enter and leave is by winnowing. But unless you know the exact location of her rooms, there is no way for anyone to winnow here.

“What are you thinking about?” Eleni’s voice broke me out of his thoughts.

She’d just about cleared her plate and was staring up at me under her lashes. I knew she wasn’t trying to look as stunning as she did, but it still left me dumbstruck every time he saw her. I’d already gathered she liked beautiful things, demonstrated by the elegant way she does her hair and styles her clothing. It made me happy to see her wearing only what I’d provided for her. In a way, it felt more like she was mine.

Was that sick? Probably.

“Just how bored you must get. You’re alone most of the day. Is there anything you want me to bring to keep you busy?”

She didn’t say anything for a moment, thinking of what to ask for. “Fabrics. I used to sew in Day, so it’d be nice to do that. Also, some more books- not fiction, something on languages and history.” She nodded to herself. “That’s all I can think of for now.”

I flashed her another smile. I’d bring her all the world to this room if it made her happy. If she’d asked for stars, then I’d pluck each and every one that covered the night sky and put them in her room. To keep her happy here was all I wanted. Because if she’s happy here...

She’ll never want to leave.

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rabidredsalsa · 2 years

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hi!! I was wondering if you could do HCs for all of WxS (just Rui and Tsukasa is fine too :D) if their crush accidentally told them “I love you” and the reader quickly realizes what they said and goes “ohmygodimsosorryididntmeantosaythatoutloud-“

I love ur writing btw! Keep it up :)

OMG YES <333 i really couldn't think of anything for emu or nene with this scenario but if just rui and tsu r good for you then i hope this was to your liking :)) also id like u to know that i actually finished this at 1 am so it might be a little trippy (especially tsukasa's part) 🧍‍♀️

ACCIDENTALLY CONFESSING // kamishiro rui & tenma tsukasa.

genre: fluff, a lil bit of crack in tsukasa's part

you were always the one who helped rui with setting up the stage and booking gigs, and although you weren't part of the group, he genuinely appreciated each and every one of your efforts.

you were always welcome to join and keep him company while he worked on his creations, often having to be the one reminding him to get a proper night's sleep and making sure he follows a proper eating routine.

the two of you seemed to be permanently glued to one another, to the point where it genuinely hurt the other WxS members' brains to try to understand how you weren't dating yet.

your friendship was just too good to lose - so as time went by, the thought of confessing your feelings to him scared you, putting your relationship at risk being the last thing you want.

it was that day though, before one of the shows you helped set up, when he asked you with no warning "you worked so hard on the choreography and medley. would you like to perform with us, just this time?"

at first, you didn't know what to say, but you instinctively replied with "yes, i'd love to!"

and to say it was the time of your life would be the understatement of the century.

it was so thrilling, being on stage with them, singing and dancing for hundreds of people - stage fright seemed to go away so quickly. it had been the most fun you've had in a long time, and knowing you helped realize all this made it all the better.

just like after every show, you and rui met backstage to exchange thoughts and opinions, but instead, the moment you two were left alone, you literally jumped and clinged to him, blurting out an 'i love you' while laughing.

and then it hit you -

the most surprising part was that as much as you tried to pull away and apologize repeatedly, he just held you back and chuckled.

sardonic and relatively tired most of the time, you were tsukasa's 'unfortunate' classmate whose school-related activities always somehow ended up having something to do with him. a duet for music class? it's always you and tsukasa. project on the history of arts? of course, you get paired up with tsukasa.

it wasn't even as tiring at this point.

to everyone, he had always been just that one weird theatre kid who randomly burst into anime monologues and struck dramatic poses out of nowhere. and regardless of how many times you ended up having to spend time with him, you never complained or looked at him weird.

that made him instantly attached to you.

you would always be the person he tries so hard to receive compliments and undivided attention from, and it's almost sad how desperate he is for your validation and approval.

you, on the other side, were almost upset with yourself - there was just something about his random outbursts and heroic fantasies, about his naive smile that made you melt every time.

you'd often find yourself sitting down next to him at lunch, talking about anything and everything, or texting him at random times of the day just to ask how he's feeling, and so on.

you had been aware that your feelings began to turn into something more than platonic before he had even been able to process the joy you bring him by just being there without feeling forced to.

the first time you would have said 'i love you' would have actually been intentional, but all your attempts at confessing so far have been thwarted by certain people...

you tried telling him via a voice message, but saki ended up answering instead and you had to quickly delete the replies and beg her to not say anything about it.

you also tried telling him through a song you worked almost the entire month on, but it got discovered by emu and nene, and things got too weird for you to be able to use that tactic from there.

after several more failed attempts, discouraged, you decided to give up entirely and just accept the fact that the two of you probably just aren't meant to be.

until one night - you had accepted to help tsukasa rehearse for a romance theatre piece he was working on, hoping you'd be able to get past the initial embarrassment. though he had to keep asking you to get a hold of yourself every time you began blushing uncontrollably whenever certain words were used. he even tried joking at some point by saying "hey, come on, get a hold of yourself! it's not like you're actually in love with me or something, so it shouldn't be a big deal. i wouldn't blame you if you did though, ha ha!"

and, unfortunately enough, that was the last straw for you, since you found yourself burying your face in your hands and muttering "i do love you though, you know..." without even thinking twice.

let's just say you weren't the only one who nearly went into cardiac arrest that day.

#fluff #project sekai #proseka #rui kamishiro x reader #kamishiro rui x reader #kamishiro rui #rui kamishiro #tenma tsukasa #tsukasa tenma #tsukasa tenma x reader #tenma tsukasa x reader #wonderlands x showtime #wxs

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pepsicup · 3 years

Text

The Boob Thing

Bucky Barnes x Reader 1.5k words

Summary: There are things we do that they will never understand, especially a man like him. (semi smut, breast play, slight body worship, we love tiddies here)

Author note: this concept is from my vault that I wrote with a friend for a different fandom, I decided to repurpose it since it got archived. Not my best work since I'm trying to get back in the groove after writing Problems Of A Spaceman but whatever, enjoy! (I have the attention span of a cube of sugar so there are probably mistakes, I re-read my work all the time so it will be fixed)

Bucky cleared his throat to break the comfortable silence he came home to, attempting to gain her attention as subtly as he could. She was curled up on their bed with a small book, almost in the exact place where he left her, but...not completely the same way as before.

It was one of those quiet days where they could do absolutely nothing if they so wanted, but he did slip out to take care of a few things so he could spend the rest of it with her undividedly. She was so engrossed in reading that she hadn’t even notice he left and came back all in the same hour. Though he wasn't gone long, he found her in an even more natural lounging position that caught him off guard at the very sight.

"Doll?" his words were stunted by something hidden in his voice.

She hummed back in response, not registering his presence until the next thing he ask tore her focus away completely.

“Are you...feeling yourself up?” she peeked around her book at him standing in the doorway.

Bucky had an amused expression from the moment he walked in and while he’d been watching her for the last couple of minutes before speaking up. He's not ashamed to admit that he waited to announce his presence to see if it was going to end up becoming another thing he liked to watch, but it sadly wasn't. She was...well he had no clue what she was doing.

All that matters is it was something that was happening without him.

She wore a loose-fitting shirt, but had one of her hands slipped inside and resting laxly on her right breast. As Bucky stood there unnoticed, she unconsciously squeezed every few moments like it was no big deal. To him, it wasn't normal unless he was involved or if she had her other hand in her panties, luring him over with those pretty eyes.

It seemed like she was doing it just to do it.

She put her book down, marked the page so she could get back to it later and shifted so she was laying against the many pillows littering the bed. Her other hand came to sit on her abdomen as the other remained in its place.

“Just pla—” her fingertips dipped under the bunched-up hemline of the shirt, leaving her underwear on full display.

“You playin' with yourself without me, sweetheart?” Bucky walked over to the end of the bed and crawled up to her.

Once he was hovering over her, he didn't make any moves to touch and watched with an adorable curiosity, though adorable might not be the right word to use while he raked over her skin.

“No!” she giggled, trying to explain herself to a man from a different time, "it's just...entertaining?"

“Entertaining...?” he licked his lips, trying his best to pay attention. She ran her foot up the side of his thick thigh and hooked it on his hip lazily. This type of intimacy was normal for them, but there was that one thing that wasn’t.

Bucky rested his forehead on hers as they exchanged glances from her chest, where he could just see the outline of her hand, and back up.

"Yeah, they are nice to play with," she said innocently.

She placed her free hand on his beside them that pressed into the mattress. He pulled their interlocking hands to his mouth and kissed her knuckles to hide a smirk at the words, keeping his lips against the soft skin.

“I know...” he wiggled his eyebrows.

She couldn’t help but laugh this time, "Not like that you dummy,"

Bucky snickered against the back of her hand as she continued to ramble on, “It's just something I do when I'm comfortable or relaxed...most of the time I don't even notice I'm doing it"

There wasn't a clear reason why she did it, sometimes it was sexual but it was also comforting to have something to hold or be held – it could even be the result of boredom. The mounds of flesh are coincidentally very squishy and anyone who owns a pair knew what she was talking about. Bucky did have quite the chest himself, but it wasn't as authentic as the real deal enough to understand.

“I still don’t get it” he said sheepishly, a humorous edge in his voice.

“Tell me what you don’t get, baby” She sighed, shaking her head at his ability to listen with any other organ except for his ears.

While he is distracted with the question, she pulled her hand out and unravelled theirs swiftly. He was pondered as she maneuvered her next movements carefully and made her move before he could even comprehend what was on his own mind. She positioned her hands to rest on top of his and slid them up her shirt to the untouched side of her chest. Her hand stayed firm on his as her bust filled his palm, he gaped down at her like it was the first time she’d ever done something like that.

"You're just asking for it, aren't ya?" he mused, the smirk kicking up the side of his mouth.

Bucky leaned in far enough that she witnessed his eye shift at the close proximity. She could tell he wanted to kiss her so badly, but his demeanour made it feel like he wanted to do a lot more. It still wasn't the priority, she was only trying to make him understand. She ignored the charming attempts to sway her and focused on urging his lower body with her leg to lay down beside her.

“What are ya tryin' to do now?” he planted himself like a tree so she couldn't move him.

“Shhh, let me show you what I mean... and behave yourself for once" she cocked her head pointedly.

He narrowed his eyes at her, all in good fun.

"Please...?" she added softly.

He grunted, “Alright”

Bucky plopped down in the crevice of her arm, halfway on top of her and remaining tangled between her legs where you could most often find him in one manner or another. He shifted until he found the right spot to lay his head and tuck his face into her neck without causing her discomfort, then slumping down on her anyway.

"How come've never seen ya do it before?" his warm hometown drawl melted into his muffled voice. That was the tell-tale signal that he was getting riled up and it went right over her head every single time. Not everyone is a hyper-observant supersoldier with a sensory reception level equivalent to a herd of African elephants during mating season. Once the accent comes out, it's game over.

"Because you usually have your hands up my shirt anyway, now shush"

He was already grinning like an idiot even before she encouraged him to squeeze the first time, and it only got wider from there. As she attempted to demonstrate what she meant, she closed her eyes to clear her mind so it would happen sincerely and without his influence. They laid there together, hands hidden by the fabric of an old shirt he let her pick from his closet, mimicking each other's movements until they inevitably synced up.

It wasn't even five minutes before he got impatient and started to place kisses where ever he could reach a few at a time, even getting to softly suck despite her warning. She had stopped guiding his hand after a while, letting him do it on his own and enjoying it in the process, it was so relaxing that she almost dozed off at one point.

He, on the other hand, was thinking the exact opposite because after he realized he had all the control, things went downhill fast for her. It could have been the crossed wires in his head or the miscommunication, he concluded that she was teasing him regardless of which it was.

"Do you get it n—"

Bucky popped his head up out of nowhere and surprised her with a kiss, laughing against her lips as she jolted at the sudden contact. He took the chance to move back over her and in between those legs where he belongs.

He pulled back once she ran out of breath and held her still, “I'm sorry, doll...it's jus' turnin' me on”

"Bucky…" she giggled

"You feel that...?" he ignored her as she ignored him, grinding his half-hard bulge against her inner thigh instead of listening. He showered her face with his lips while she squirmed under the covered thrusts, “I know ya like it, look…you love it”

“Bucky!” she broke into an even bigger fit.

He bit his beautifully full bottom lip as he looked from her face to her chest devilishly. He acted on the impure intent running rampant through his body before his cock could betray those thoughts with every pulse.

"I can’t help but get hard when you touch yourself like that…” he ran his hands up her torso. He pulled the shirt over the spot of his heated fixation and wetted his lips with hers again, “...I can make it even better”

He rushed out his whisper, “…we do it anyway, but it’s so fuckin' hot when you do it alone and try t’hide it from me...”

Bucky lowered his face to her chest and nuzzled thoroughly between the two mounds he pushed together. As he took in the scent of her skin, he fumbled his hand to squeeze one of them as he attacked the other with his enthusiastic mouth. Her top half was soaked from the progression of his sucking, licking and groping, but the feeling of it finished the job elsewhere.

“Bucky…” she whined.

That seemingly innocent, on her part, situation turned filthy in a matter of minutes. He hummed around her nipple at her changed tone and back to her lips to feel the noise against his.

"... you’re not gettin' out of it that easy" his muttering sentence escaped through the gaps in his kisses.

When he leaned up to take off his shirt, he gazed down at her flushed face beaming a smile. Her body was still begging for attention even when she tried to get away, but she didn't stand a chance. As usual, his influence diminished her willpower and he was able to claim another part of her entirely.

"Shhh..." Bucky lightheartedly moved his knees to either side of her to keep her pinned down, "...let me show ya how it's done, doll"

Even if he didn't fully understand what that thing was or what it meant, he sure knew how to use them.

#mcu #bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x reader smut #sebastian stan #sargent daddy #sac writes

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rainydaydream-gal18 · 3 years

Text

(The Bad Batch) Crosshair x Reader: Comfort Zone

(Author’s Note: It was requested I do a hurt/comfort fic with Crosshair, and I happened to have a shelved project very similar, so this request was my motivation to get it done! Thank you, @leia-saveourskins!

Enjoy!)

Crosshair wasn’t quite sure what to do when he heard your cries on the other side of the door. He had only been walking past to head to his quarters when the unfamiliar sound caught his attention, realizing only after a short pause what it was. His first instinct was to avoid, to pretend he hadn’t heard it in the first place. Crosshair didn’t consider himself an expert on dealing with that sort of thing anyway. He didn’t know how to comfort someone other than with a subtle nod or resting his hand on their shoulder. That’s how he managed to get by when it came to the rest of the squad. With you, it wasn’t the same.

Hunter was better with that sort of thing, Crosshair thought. Or Wrecker. Even Tech would be a more recommended person to comfort you. The only issue was the three of them had left the ship a while ago for supplies in a nearby village. There was a chance that they wouldn’t be back yet for some time. Plus, part of him didn’t want it to be any of them in the end. He wanted to be the one even if he had no idea how.

Crosshair groaned, rolling his eyes to no one in particular. Before he knew it, he was knocking swiftly on your door. The crying ceased on the other side. Silence fell over the space until he cleared his throat.

“_________?” he grunted through the door, pausing to listen. “Are you in there?”

Of course he knew you were in there. He figured he’d give you the opportunity to stay quiet if you chose and endure whatever it was on your own. For a moment, he thought you were going to take advantage of the opportunity, and he’d be on his way. However, that changed when your voice croaked on the other side.

“Cross? Do you need something?”

His shoulders sank as he exhaled. Part of him melted a little at the thought of you offering your help even though you clearly weren’t okay. That was just the sort of person you were. Not to mention you used his nickname.

“No,” he replied. Several seconds passed in silence as he waited for you to say something else, but it occurred to him that there was no reason for you to. After all, he had been the one to knock on your door. Before he could find the words, the door slid open. You stood there and looked at him with signs of your hurt written on your face. Your lips were turned up in a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes, which were glistening with tears that you kept at bay. A shiny wet streak stretched across your cheek where you had wiped a few that had fallen already.

“Don’t mind me,” you told him quickly, swiping the back of your hand across your face again. “I’m just having a bad day.” You didn’t attempt to hide your state. In your mind, there was no need to around Crosshair. You knew he wouldn’t pay it any mind. You merely wanted to help him with whatever it was that had him knocking at your door- especially since it didn’t happen very often. “Are you sure there isn’t something you need?”

“Are you...okay?” The question was spoken slowly, as if he were speaking a foreign language. You weren’t sure what you had been expecting, but that certainly wasn’t it. His stare hadn’t relented. “You were crying.”

It took you a minute or so before you knew how to respond. His concern, if that’s what it was, was unforeseen. You considered playing the situation down and just giving him an “I’m fine” so he could be on his way. But if there was anything you learned about working with the Bad Batch, it was a family of perceptive individuals. Sometimes you’d put on a smile for the others, and they’d play along, even though you knew that they knew. But in that moment, with Crosshair standing in front of you with those sharp eyes of his, it didn’t feel like the time to do that.

“Well if I’m being honest,” you said finally, flashing another half-hearted smile. “I’m not okay.”

Crosshair exhaled quietly. He knew you were in distress, and there you were standing in front of him admitting it, but that was only half the battle. How could he make you feel better? What in the universe could he do that would make the tears stop falling? Or even put a smile on your face? Again, it seemed like Wrecker territory. Crosshair thought back to the last time your expression had fallen in front of the others. Wrecker had wrapped his arms around you and lifted you off the ground in a big embrace, causing laughter to spill from your lips. He remembered the pang in his chest even though he got to see you smile. He wished it had been him to make it happen. Maybe it was time to take a page from his brother’s book.

You had begun to feel uneasy about admitting your hurt to the most stoic of the Bad Batch when, out of nowhere, he opened his arms toward you, and for a split second, you stared at them in confusion. Your eyes travelled back up to meet his expectant look.

“What…?” Before you could finish your question, he took a few steps forward and began to close his arms around your form. Eyes wide with surprise, your cheek was pressed into his shoulder as he tightened the embrace in a firm, but comforting way. You finally responded, wrapping your arms around his lean torso.

He was so warm. It was the kind of warmth that affected you inside and out. Crosshair could be a difficult man to read on the surface. He was more comfortable with showing irritation or anger. Displays of the more tender emotions he held for his squad were subtle, so subtle that you might not notice them at first. For him to step out of his comfort zone in that moment spoke volumes to you.

“It’s...going to be alright,” he drawled. “I’m here.” The tears had started again at his gesture. You found yourself just sinking into the hug and taking deep breaths. Crosshair kept holding you with patience as the hurt passed.

“Thank you,” you spoke into the shoulder of his blacks. “I needed this.”

He pulled away only slightly to look at you. Your head was swimming with many feelings as both of you locked eyes. Suddenly, you felt his arms hold you tighter as you were lifted off the ground. Your laughter filled the hall as he held you suspended for a moment before bringing you back down. Crosshair’s lips were turned up in a smile, but he hadn’t released you.

He watched your reaction, your eyes bright and mouth forming a wide smile. That was what he wanted. That was what he was hoping for. Your smile was like cool water on a desert planet to him. Crosshair held your gaze for a few more moments until you broke eye contact to lean into his shoulder once more, a breathy chuckle escaping your lips.

“Really, thank you.”

He ran a hand from between your shoulder blades to the middle of your back in another soothing gesture. “I know I’m not the best at this. Wrecker probably has me beat.”

“He’s great,” you said. “But in my opinion, this is the best.”

His chest swelled a bit after hearing that. Both of you pulled away from the embrace, fighting the desire to linger. Crosshair’s expression remained soft, his features smoothed by the tender exchange.

“Want some caf?” you asked, breaking the silence that had settled between you two. “I think Tech said there was some left, even if it isn’t a whole lot. It’ll be restocked when the others get back.”

He hummed in agreement. “Sure.”

#the bad batch #bad batch reader insert #crosshair x reader #crosshair reader inset #crosshair imagine #bad batch crosshair #the bad batch crosshair x reader #bad batch imagine #bad batch x reader #star wars the bad batch x reader #crosshair reader insert #crosshair #crosshair x y/n

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sondepoch · 4 years

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HC: Married life with the boys!

With one chaotic human and a handful of boys too attractive for their own good, it's always been a simple matter of time before love found its way into the Devildom. And where love blooms, marriage often follows—and nothing will stop these boys from giving their human all the love in the world.

Word Count: 5.9k

*Mild NSFW themes for Beel & Diavolo ;)

Characters: All Brothers + Undateables - Luke

MASTERLIST

Lucifer

It highkey blows everyone’s mind when the two of you get married

Because absolutely nothing changes

Lucifer still reprimands you if you do something ridiculous, he still crosses his arms and frowns when you tease him, he still sends a scowl your way when you mess around with Diavolo - if anything, the two of you are distant, and alarmingly so to everyone who gazes upon the supposedly happy couple

But that’s only because they can’t see what goes down in private

And yes - the grass is greener behind the closed door of Lucifer’s study

It was different when the two of you were simply in a relationship: Lucifer’s pride was always there. He would allow you to have your way with him, touch his hair and kiss him and hold him, but he could only reciprocate so much

But now that you’re married?

If anything, Lucifer’s pride dictates that he now has to be open with you, the single person he trusts more than anyone else in the world

Something that he can only do in private

And honestly - you savor moments when you’re alone with him because of it

For the first time, he is the one to initiate contact. The barrier of pride is broken, and in its place lingers Lucifer’s neverending desire to be wrapped in your arms

It doesn’t matter if you’re smaller than him, you are big spoon

You pamper him, giving him all the forehead kisses and tight hugs and quiet handholding he could ever desire. And in exchange, he finally becomes honest with his emotions - finally casting his pride away so that he can ask you when he wants a hug, when he wants a kiss, when he’s needy for affection and love, and he wants you to give it

It’s reached the point where he only wants to be alone with you, eternally savoring the feeling of your arms around him and pulling him closer - finally vocal about his desires

But he does feel guilty that he can only do this behind closed doors

So slowly, very slowly, he tries to sacrifice his pride and begin treating you different publicly

It starts small: a more tender voice whenever he addresses you, a secondary “are you sure?” whenever he’s worried that you’re uncomfortable, a ghost of a smile on his lips when you laugh so merrily

But soon, it morphs into small touches: fingers brushing against each other when you walk, a hand on your back when you’re next to each other, standing closer to you than everyone else

Slowly, the people around you become relieved. They start to understand that you are like any married couple, but that Lucifer was simply having a hard time adjusting to the abrupt closeness

And then, on the day when you and his brothers throw him a surprise birthday party, Lucifer is so overwhelmed by love that he kisses you then and there, right in front of everyone, pride be damned

And the process is slow going, but eventually he becomes as open with you in public as he is in private, until the two of you are so close that it seems nothing can ever keep him from holding your hand the way he wants again

Mammon

s m u g

It still blows his mind that you chose him out of everyone, that you chose him to marry and love and spend the rest of your life with

And while he is absolutely dumbfounded by this fact, it won’t stop him from rubbing it everyone else’s face at every chance

“Hey guys, wanna go to this all-inclusive resort next month?” Mammon grins, an uncharacteristically innocent smile on his face. “I’ll pay and all!”

“Oh, yes!” Asmo squeals while Beel’s ears perk up at the word all-inclusive. “I have so many cute outfits that I can’t wait to wear!”

“Oh wait, my bad!” Mammon exclaims dramatically, a silly grin on his face. “Looks like it’s only for married couples. Guess I’ll just take MC then, sorry guys!”

PDA turns up by 10000000%

Man is a touchy demon by default, so in private (now that you’re married) he finally has the courage to quietly cuddle you the way he’s always wanted to

But bring him into public?

Oh boy

You cannot get him to stop touching you. Ever.

There is always a hand on your butt, or two arms around draped around your neck, or a single arm linked with your arm, but no matter what, Mammon makes sure that you guys are touching and that you are intimate

The only time you’re in public and he might not actively touch you is if you’re the one touching him - and holy hell, when you do, this demon melts in your hands

LOVES it when you get possessive. Man wants you to be greedy with him, just like he is with you, so if you yank his attention away from other demons in a fit of jealousy, he’ll just find it hot

Tangibly, the nature of your relationship hasn’t changed much after marriage. You both still live in the House of Lamentation (though you have moved into his room) he’s still in debt (but things are better than before, and Lucifer doesn’t shout as much), and he still has an only slightly unhealthy obsession with Goldie (fixed only by the fact that you have told him that no, he should not sleep clutching his credit card like a teddy bear)

But inside, marriage means everything to this demon

Man was assertive before, but never confident, ya know? All those big, fancy words were more of a coverup for his insecurity after being made fun of for so long

But now?

His confidence is real

And because of it, being around him is actually easier. He doesn’t need to call himself The Great Mammon or remind you to come to him when you need protecting - because at last, he believes those words

Why?

Because when he falls asleep every night with his head buried in the crook of your neck, it’s to your words of praise, slowly but steadily building his confidence up

And he loves it

(Bonus:) When he proposed, he proposed with ten rings because “you’re better than everyone else so you deserve more rings than everyone else”

Leviathan

Sigh

This man really tried to talk you out of marrying him

Of course, by that time the wedding date was already final and everything ,so you shut him up with a firm whack on the back of the head, but that never stops Levi from being continually insecure

It’s not that he doesn’t want to be married to you

It’s that he’s worried you’re missing out on something by being married to him

Poor baby is so precious

And so insecure

At the beginning of your marriage, it takes hours to convince him that he’s not “unworthy” of your love

Often in the morning, you’ll be able to tell that he’s having self-deprecating thoughts just by the look in his eye, so you’ll cuddle and kiss and love him for hours until it’s almost lunchtime - and only then, after hours of you reassuring him and reminding him why you love him, does he begin to believe that he isn’t a “yucky otaku”

For the remainder of the day, Levi makes sure to repay you in full - literally showering you in love as he makes you his Player 2 for every video game, going as far as to allow you to sit in his lap while he reads manga over your shoulder

And while things often reset at night - and the next morning the demon looks equally fearful about your decision to marry him, there’s no denying that the amount of time it takes to convince him that you love and want him is growing shorter and shorter

And then, one day, when Levi wakes up, he doesn’t have that look in his eyes at all

And he just straight up kisses you

This is the story of why Levi kisses you every morning, first thing in the morning (even if it’s just a forehead kiss)

Man is eternally grateful to you for bearing with him (despite you insisting that you weren’t “bearing’ with him - you were doing it out of love) while he was so hesitant and fearful, and vows to return every ounce of love tenfold

Man will do anything for you

Of course, he still prefers to stay indoors and to marathon TSL with you

But he does stop glancing away every time you praise him, and all the instances where he might have previously insulted himself now turn into simple blushes where he wraps you in a hug to hide his warm cheeks

Man is surprisingly touchy, even when he’s not fighting with other for your attention

100% sleeps best if you’re spooning him - no questions asked

(And please don’t ask questions - he’ll get so embarrassed)

And yes, after much begging him, he does finally purchase a bed for the two of you to sleep in instead of his bathtub (which is surprisingly comfy, given that you can just lay on top of Levi and cuddle him)

But yes, sometimes he will randomly lift you up in the middle of the night and carry you to the bathtub, because while there’s no chance this man is letting go of you as you sleep, he will always prefer the bathtub

Sigh

But you love him anyway <3

Satan

No one would have thought that the Avatar of Wrath would be able to lead such a peaceful life, but the second you guys get married, that’s what things are

Peaceful

Man treats you like royalty, making sure that things are always perfect for you

Mornings are no longer spent at the dining table, but are instead spent on the small table in Satan’s bedroom, where the two of you roll out of bed every morning and lazily curl up together on the same armchair while drinking tea and coffee, chatting about whatever dreams you had

Afternoons are quiet: Satan’s nose in a book and your fingers occupied with whatever your favorite pastime is, but you guys are always right next to each other, always touching in some way

Evenings are calm - Satan will sometimes play a disc of your favorite human world band or will put on some music of his own preferred Devildom artists, and the two of you will simply talk until it’s nighttime and you both are sleepy

In essence, man mellows out after you marry him

And the reason?

He always feels so calm. It’s like you’ve quelled the eternal storm within his heart by marrying him, by promising that you’ll spend the rest of your lives together - and Satan hardly thinks he has any need for emotions like rage and anger when he always feels so blissfully happy with you

It becomes his favorite thing in the whole world to just pull you onto his lap and play with the ring around your finger, listening to the sound of your voice

He’s just so soft for you

Highkey wants to spend the rest of his life locked away inside his room with you, away from other people and other things that make him angry, but he will venture out into public with you because he knows that there’s value in exposing oneself to various social environments

In fact, now if he leaves the house at all, it’s usually with you by his side

His favorite place to visit is 100% the cat shelter, with the local, cozy bookstore taking its place as a close second

But this man will not hesitate to throw hands with anyone who disrespects you

It’s actually one of the reasons why he finds it so tedious to go outside - because no matter what, there’s always some foolish demon that treats you poorly, and then Satan’s disposition dictates that he can’t let that demon go home until the fool learns his place and apologizes

Of course, after the whole ordeal you guys 100% go somewhere to cheer each other up, and that’s the story of how you become the local ice cream store’s most valued customers

But Satan will always prefer being safe in his room with you, surrounded by his books and your things and everything that screams home

And are you guys secretly hiding a cat in your room?

Who knows?

All you can say is that when the stack of “books” eternally buried under Satan’s desk sneezes, it’s not because Satan “enchanted them” to do so

;)

Asmodeus

d e d i c a t e d

h u s b a n d o

Anyone can see the switch in Asmo when he settles down and marries you

Man changed when you guys started dating for sure. His posts on Devilgram began featuring you, he spent money he would have spent on hair products on buying you gifts, he stopped talking about himself and began focusing on complimenting you

But now that you’re married? And shit is official?? And you’ve actually legally sworn that you want to spend the rest of your life with him???

It’s the first time Asmo cries tears of joy

Man pulls a full 180 - there’s no longer any such thing as Asmo, or even MC. No, the two of you are now a package deal - and everywhere you go, it’s Asmo AND MC

And the whole Devildom knows about you two

And really, how could they not?

Ever since Asmo made that one post on Devilgram where the two of you are posing, flashing the camera your engagement rings - every single post Asmo has made is of you

In fact, some of his posts don’t even have him in it - they’re just you

Because this boi is so smitten for you

And he wants the whole world to know it

You guys start matching everything (or everything that’s fashionable. matching t-shirts are NOT the wave, honey, so put those back)

Nail polish? Matching. Jewelry? Matching. Aesthetics? Matching.

Asmo has so much love in his heart that it literally comes pouring out in every action he does

Man will miss his beauty sleep for you if you ask him for a glass of water in the middle of the night. And better yet, he won’t even complain if you keep him up late, as long as it means he gets to hold you close and shower you in kisses

And if you thought Asmo before marriage was touchy, then you have a big surprise in for you

Asmo’s touches are no longer sexual. (Or some of them are, but only when you’re ready for it ;)) He’s now more preoccupied with the closeness that accompanies touching you, and so his skin is always brushing by yours even in the briefest of touches, because it always sends such a lovely rush of warmth to his heart whenever you touch

Everything reminds him of you

Man will send you pictures of trees, birds, flowers (honestly anything beautiful) with the caption saw this today and it reminded me of you xoxo

And though he maintains the ruse of this being completely casual, that this marriage is just another wonderful thing that’s happened to him, you know that he never stops fangirling over the fact that you’ve actually chosen him to love and marry

And yes, he was an angel born to be loved: he was the jewel of the heavens and everyone who looked upon him was instantly charmed

But to him, none of that matters

The only love he cares about is yours, and now that you’ve given it to him, you’ve literally brought heaven to him because there’s nothing in the world he would trade for this

Beelzebub

Imagine being married to Superman

That.

That is what this marriage is like.

To the rest of the world, you are literally untouchable - because the moment you marry him, Beel will not allow anyone to mistreat you

Did you think he was baby? That he was precious?

Well, you were right. But now that the two of you are married, he looks at you with that same lens of protectiveness, and he wants to shield you from all the evil in the Devildom

Man is devoted in public and in private: nothing will stop him from showcasing his love for you

Expect to be offered food at all hours of the day, to be lifted up and hugged at random, and to be given forehead kisses on the daily

And listen, when Beel kisses you on the forehead in public, it’s not just a show of affection to show the world how much he loves you. It’s a silent threat to anyone who might hurt you - a silent warning that Beel has extended his protective domain over to you, and now anyone who messes with you is messing with him and will not be shown mercy

That’s only in public tho - in private, this man goes back to being the most precious thing in the world

Many

KISSES

Contrary to public expectation, Beel is just like his younger brother in that he adores lazing around with you in bed, laying kisses across your skin for hours on end while you just sigh in bliss

He just adores the intimacy of the whole situation alongside the sensation of your smaller frame being literally enveloped by his own

His favorite thing in the whole world is laying on his side with his head resting on top of yours, your back pressed against his chest while he hugs you from behind and listens to you rant about whatever. And while this is going on, he will absolutely slide his ring off his finger and absentmindedly slide it onto yours, watching as the larger band dangles so loosely off even the thickest of your fingers

It actually opens up a whole new kink realization to him: that he adores seeing you in his things and watching the way your smaller frame is nearly swallowed up by all his clothes

And while it has always been normal for you to casually wear his shirts and walk around his room in them without anything else on, the fact that the two of you are married gives him the confidence to sneak you out of his room looking like that, where you occasionally run into his brothers. And the sight of you dressed in his clothes in front of other people awakens a side of him that he never knew existed

100% tries to get you to leave the house looking like that

“Babe, I can’t wear this outside”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m not wearing any underwear beneath this and if the wind blows, then—”

“You’re not wearing any underwear?”

And then Beel realized that he really had discovered a new kink

Belphegor

The marriage no one foresaw

Nah, but fr tho

It’s not that Belphie doesn’t love you - even a blind man can tell that he’s hopelessly fallen for you

It’s just that you guys were acting like a married couple so long before you guys got married that no one thought there was any point in actually sealing the deal

And honestly, things really don’t change much after you both get married

You still sleep in the same bed, you still cuddle each other at night, you still bicker back and forth

From a distance, it seems like the nature of your relationship is entirely unchanged, save for the fact that you both have matching bands around your ring fingers

B U T

That’s only because no one else can see how Belphie treats you in private

Where there would once be peaceful naps where he dozed off on your thighs to the feeling you playing with his hair, he now spends that time lost in slow conversations with you, their topics varying based on whatever has popped through his mind that day

Man realizes that, now that you’re his spouse, he wants to know everything about you

And he’s willing to spend all the time in the world learning these things

He’ll lie you down on the bed and play with your hair, asking you the most random questions

“Do you dislike mushrooms?”

“If you had a pet frog, what would you name it?”

“What do you think of stickers?”

Of course, that may be because your answers are utterly ridiculous

“Only if they stand over four inches”

“Fluffy”

“They’re only good if they smell good”

And for the longest time, you really only humor his questions with responses because, well, he’s your husband and you think that he just wants to get to know you better (albeit in a rather unorthodox method)

But then, one day, the two of you are casually walking through the Devildom market in preparation for it being Belphie’s turn to make dinner, and the demon selects the ingredients to your favorite dish without even consciously knowing what it is

And you realize that every question you answered was one Belphie took to heart, and that the reason he always wants to learn so much about you is so that he can use the information to be the best husband he can be

And when you figure it out, you nearly tackle Belphie to the ground in a hug, because you’re so touched

“You’re the best husband ever!” You murmur, wrapping your legs around his waist as you bury your face in the crook of his neck, clinging to him like a koala as you trap him in an embrace he can’t wriggle out of

“Did you really just realize why I always ask these things?” Belphie questions, sighing as if he’s disappointed

But even he can’t hide the small grin that creeps onto his face as you hug him tighter, and you know he’s just savoring the affection. And who are you to deny him any?

Solomon

cHAoTiC

Arguably the most stressful marriage, but not for either of you: for the people around you

You guys are that couple

Things were hectic enough before, when you guys would pull pranks on the demons every time you were together. But now that you’re in love? And married??? And ALWAYS together?!?!?

RIP to everyone around you

The two of you never really seem to grow old - your energy is seemingly inexhaustible and you’ve already pranked all 72 demons that Solomon has pacts with four times over (and yes, that does include Barbatos, who has now made multiple threats to break the pact)

But, again, this is one of those instances where there’s a sharp difference between how you guys act in public vs. in private

In public, things are a hot mess. You guys are always laughing, always joking, always smiling

But in the privacy of Solomon’s bedroom, without any potential targets for pranks and any demons that you guys need to keep your guard up around, things change substantially

Contrary to public expectation, you guys are almost completely silent when you’re alone - but it’s not an awkward silence, by any means. No, the silence that you and Solomon find is nothing short of comforting, and every time you guys escape to the confines of his room, you both let out a breath neither of you realized you’d been holding

Because although you guys are strong, and arguably the most powerful team of humans in the Devildom, the fact remains that you guys are human.

And you can only let your guards fully down around each other

Nights are spent in the absence of any loud laughter or obnoxious rackets, the two of you preferring to savor the sound and comfort of silence. You guys fit together like pieces to a puzzle, and no words are necessary for the two of you to change into your nightwear and snuggle up under the same blanket, soft sighs escaping your lips the moment your skin comes into contact with one another

It’s only times like now, when there’s no one else in the world around, that you both can find true peace

And on nights like these, Solomon will just hold you close to him, sometimes pressing his forehead against yours, and he’ll stroke your sides softly, thumbs rubbing soothing circles into your skin

And of course, you’ll reciprocate in full, pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses to the man’s jaw as he continues his ministrations, sometimes letting out a quiet hum of contentment as you pull him closer

It’s a relationship where speech isn’t necessary; you guys are so in sync with each other and so helplessly in love that words only complicate things

But still, on occasion, one of you will open your mouths to disrupt the silence, and on nights like these, there’s really only one thing either of you will even consider saying

“I love you”

And if there’s one certainty in life, it’s the fact that the other will repeat the same phrase back, punctuating it with a kiss that reminds you both why you love each other so much

And just how worth it this marriage really is

Simeon

The marriage that everyone foresaw

Nah, but fr tho

This is the relationship where everyone knew about it except for you two

Even the day Simeon proposed: it was so spontaneous - he was planning on doing it the following week - but every single person who crossed paths with him could see how helplessly in love he was with you, so it shocked no one when the two of you announced the “surprise” that you were getting married

And this is arguably one of the best decisions you have ever made

In every way

Simeon’s an angel, so marriage is probably the most important to him out of everyone. He was treating you like royalty long before you two got together, but now that the two of you are married? This man CANNOT hold back. And believe him, when he says he will get you whatever you want - he will get you whatever you want

Funny part is, most of the time, this man knows what you want before you do

You’ll be diligently taking notes at the RAD library and you won’t realize that your pencil is blunt until the words are barely legible - but when you get up to find a sharpener, you’ll see that Simeon tossed one onto your desk right before he left to grab a book

You’ll wake up at three in the morning and realize you’re thirsty - but the moment you open your eyes and sit up on the bed, Simeon will already be there with that charming smile and a glass of water in his hand

You’ll be returning from a session of painting your nails with Asmo, only to realize that there’s no way you can grab your keys from your pocket without smudging the semi-dry nail polish - and Simeon will miraculously come home at that second, kissing you on the forehead before opening the front door for you

Like seriously, it’s a gift

Of course, then there comes the day where you try to return the favor, trying to study the way his eyebrows furrow as he reads his book to determine when he’s about to stop and turn on the TV instead (only for you to triumphantly hand him the remote)

And then the affection never ends and the rest of your marriage is characterized by nonstop trying to outdo each other in thoughtfulness that everyone just looks at and sighs because it’s so wholesome

And will Luke become your and Simeon’s honorary child?

Absolutely.

And does Luke hate this in every single way?

Oh yes:

“This is ridiculous! I am two thousand years older than MC! You can’t expect me to have to listen to them every time they tell me to do something! They should be listening to me!”

“Watch your language, young man,” Simeon warns. “I won’t have you talk that way in this house.”

“It’s not even a house!” Luke screams in defiance. “And I refuse! I will say what I want, when I want, and how I want!”

“That’s enough, Luke. Go to your room and think about what you’ve said until you’re ready to apologize!”

And God help Luke the day he accidentally calls Simeon “Dad,” because nothing can break the family after that moment

Barbatos

“Teach me.”

Listen, marriage isn’t a concept that demons are familiar with

They love you, so they’ll do it for your sake - but if a demon weds a human, the demon is 100% playing it by ear and desperately hoping that they’re doing things right

But Barbatos?

Nah, this man gives everything his all, and you’re more important than everything combined. So suffice it to say that when he marries you, he is committed to being the best husbando he can possibly be

And how does he go about achieving such a thing, you ask?

Why, two simple words: “Teach me.”

He asks that you be completely upfront and honest with him about what you desire, and he does everything he can to fulfill them

Things start slow, of course

You mention to him that married couples often sleep in the same bed and share a bedroom - and then he’s requested that Diavolo provide him a new room (one which doesn’t have doors that lead to other timelines) where the two of you live together

Then you talk about how married couples usually have matching wedding rings, and the next morning you find two obscenely expensive (but beautifully artistic) rings, and a wide-eyed butler asking if they’re to your liking

You explain that married couples sometimes get closer to each other by having a family pet and (bless his heart) Barbatos takes you to an aquarium the next day and the two of you bring home a pet fish

And things are slow going with Barbatos, but progress is steady

And soon, he starts to get the hang of it

You guys don’t just sleep in the same bed, he starts to pull you closer. Casual touches turn into cuddling, and then all of a sudden he can only sleep if he’s spooning you in the process

He decides that he likes it when you wear things he buys you, so he gifts you even more woefully expensive but equally stunning jewelry, until you’re always leaving your shared room with one of Barbatos’s presents adorned on your figure

And although Barbatos is too responsible to get rid of the (immortal) pet fish he bought, the two of you have a talk and then you head down to the pet store and buy an actual pet, one which you guys can touch and hug and cuddle

And before long, Barbatos doesn’t need you to teach him how to be a good husband, he realizes that most of it is instinctive; he understands that to make you happy, he really just needs to do the things that make him happy

Of course, he still approaches many things textbook style

Every morning and every night, man will whisper that he loves you - no excuses. You guys could have a fight and he will still do this

But gradually as time moves on, he sees that marriage doesn’t have to be a big, fancy show

And he starts to just savor the sensation of being helplessly in love with you

Diavolo

POWER COUPLE

No, but literally - you guys are the most powerful couple in the world

And Diavolo is living for it

You are royalty now, and Diavolo won’t let you forget that for a single second

You want a snack? That’s fine, here’s a nine-course buffet featuring food from the human world, Celestial Realm, and Devildom

Been feeling tired and want a break? No worries, the next week has been declared a newfound Devildom holiday, so rest up for as long as you want

You don’t like this specific brand of nail polish? Oh okay, there are now four hundred samples in your room to help you find one you do like

It honestly gets to the point where you have to sit Diavolo down (*cough* sit on Diavolo’s lap *cough*) and tell him that no, when you tell him you’re considering cutting your hair, he doesn’t have to hire four professional hairstylists and a consultant to help you select the style

After much discussion he agrees to talk these things out with you

And it’s the sweetest thing in the world

“Babe, can you help me get this jar? I can’t reach it.”

“Does this mean you just want me to get you the jar? Or do you want me to make it a law that all Devildom households cannot have shelves higher than the reach of the standard human height?”

“Just the jar, hon.”

“Oh”

Will never deny you anything, ever

Actually begins putting your interests in front of his own, asking Barbatos to cook your favorite meals and desserts instead of Diavolo’s own preferences because hey, food is just food, and it makes him so happy to see your face light up when you find that dinner is your favorite dish

And listen there’s one thing you need to know about: this man’s bed

Holy shit, nothing compares

It is the most comfortable thing in the world, and you’re pretty sure that even God is missing out if he hasn’t taken a nap on Diavolo’s bed because goddamn that shit is amazing

Like you love Diavolo to death but his bed is absolutely revolutionary with how comfortable it is, and you really feel like you could spend an eternity just starfished out under the covers

And of course, since you love the bed and Diavolo loves you, the two of you can spend hours just lazing around in the morning, cuddling and giggling until it’s almost lunchtime

And mornings with Diavolo are the best

Again, though, you’re royalty, now that you’re married to him. So Diavolo isn’t going to let you be woken up like a commoner. With him, there are no alarms, no loud voices, none of that obnoxious shaking you awake or any such nonsense

No, when Diavolo wakes you up every morning, it’s truly in a way fit for royalty, in a way that only he can do - a way that you honestly prefer to all the others ways you’ve been woken

And does this include Diavolo smirking up with you every morning from between your thighs?

Absolutely.

But does that stop him from doing it every day?

Never.

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