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dear-mrs-otome · 7 years

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Hi! Could I please request "Duende - Unusual power to attract or charm" with Hideyoshi? :') Thank you! (P.S. Quick trivia - In another language, "duende" means dwarf X'D)

First off, I haven’t played Hideyoshi. Yet. (Emphasis on the ‘yet’ because I will get me some sweet sweet monkey tail, you’d better believe it my pretty) And this probably isn’t anywhere close to what you had in mind, and also I can’t write anything that has even a faint whiff of smut or sensuality without tripping and falling on my face.

Also this trope has been beaten like a dead horse.

And I should never, ever write or post at 1 AM.

That said, here’s your drabble that turned into something way longer than I meant it to. Enjoy

This was a disaster.

Twenty extra mouths to feed, with absolutely no warning save for a hasty message delivered by a frazzled Ranmaru an hour prior, and he’d made it known in no uncertain terms that these were very important mouths to feed. Minor lords here to do nothing more than bow and scrape before Nobunaga, squabbling over the scraps of his favor like starved street dogs. But that didn’t change how Nobunaga would react to any perceived insult.

‘Poorly’ would be the understatement of the year.

“Not the eggplant! There’s just not enough.” Snatching a loaded platter destined for the chopping block from the hands of one of the kitchen maids, you bit down on the urge to snap at her. It wasn’t as if any of you asked for this sort of pressure…even if you should be used to the capricious whims of Lord Nobunaga by now. Instead you offered her the closest thing to a smile you could dredge up, and inclined your head in the direction of the store rooms out back. “Go out with the others and check to see how much burdock we have left, would you? And if there are any eggs.”

She nodded, a meek jerk of motion, before scurrying off to do your bidding and leaving you alone in the sweltering kitchen. You set the eggplant down with a frown and allowed yourself a moment to sag back against the wall beside a merrily-simmering soup, feeling as wrung out and limp as one of your dishrags already.

A heavy sigh fell from you, stirring a hank of hair that had liberated itself from your hairpin. Thirty more seconds, you bargained with yourself. Thirty more seconds of standing still, of blessed silence, and then you could go back to dashing about like a monkey with its tail on fire.

“You know what they say about sighing.”

The sudden voice ruptured your little bubble of calm and you started, catching a toe on an uneven stone of the floor and sending yourself stumbling sideways, your squeak of dismay ending in a hiss of pain as one of your flailing hands glanced off of the boiling pot. Things might have ended even more more tragically, and horizontally, if you hadn’t ended up smashing face-first into a convenient wall.

A wall? No. Those were arms holding you steady, and most certainly a heartbeat beneath your ear. This was…

“Lord Hideyoshi!” Embarrassed was a hot knot in your throat as you struggled to right yourself, but he simply laughed and held on tighter, his warm eyes dancing with amusement as he looked down at you.

“Sorry, sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you.” His words said one thing, but the corner of his mouth, quirked roguishly, said another. “Although now I’ll be able to tell Inuchiyo that you fell into my arms. Quite literally.”

“That’s not…” Your voice petered out, knowing full well the futility of trying to argue with Hideyoshi. Somehow he always seemed to manage to agree with everything you said, and yet you still walked away feeling as if you had lost. Instead, you pushed away from the support of his grip and began straightening your mussed clothing. “It was my fault, really. I was daydreaming.”

He chuckled. “An unforgivable offense, to be sure. You know what daydreaming leads to, don’t you?” At the bemused shake of your head, he leaned in closer, his voice dropping conspiratorially as if he were sharing some great secret. “Wishing. And if wishes were fishes…” He straightened after a pregnant pause, and there was a certain tightness about his eyes when they met yours that paled the bright grin he offered you. “Well, I’d never go hungry.”

“I don’t believe that,” you scoffed, laughing softly. That the Lord Hideyoshi, favored by Nobunaga, could want for anything sounded more than a little preposterous.

Still shaking your head you tucked the folds of your kimono tighter, wincing as the fabric rasped across fingertips that throbbed. You’d been around kitchens your whole life, had earned yourself enough burns to know just what sort of welts were raising on your skin from your clumsy collision with the soup pot. Sure enough, when you lifted your hand to inspect it, the tips of your fingers were angry and red and stinging far out of proportion to the actual damage done.

Hideyoshi sobered immediately and took your hand in his large calloused ones, cradling it carefully as contrition canted his features. “Ah. Who’s really the careless one here though? I’m sorry.”

He bent his head over your palm, and before you had the chance to wave off his concern he had closed his lips over the tip of your finger and coherent thought became a moot point as your world narrowed to a single, tiny spark of contact.

Even the warmth of his mouth was cool compared to the heat of your abused skin. It was suddenly difficult to breathe around the bolus of your pulse, lodged firmly in your throat, and you prayed to whatever benevolent gods might be watching over a poor cook such as yourself that he wouldn’t be able to feel how your heart was tripping all over itself. “M-milord…”

You should take your hand back. That was the thought that kept rattling around in your head, but it fizzled somewhere on its way to action. You opened your mouth to try again, but the words died as his tongue swept slyly over the pad of your finger - a flicker of candleflame that softened your knees, made all the worse when he rolled his gaze up to meet yours and you saw how it had grown dark.

Heaven help you, but that image, that tableau - your fingertips, disappearing behind the curve of Hideyoshi’s lips as he suckled on them, the heat of his mouth - it all drew an answering echo from somewhere deep in your belly. His brown eyes fixed on yours as if you were the only thing that existed, the only thing that mattered, and for a split second you wanted to believe that was true.

That image was going to be burned into your memory indelibly.

And just when you thought you might go mad second-guessing what you saw, he straightened swiftly and ceded your hand. “Better now?” Offering you a wry twist of his lips, he glanced away. “It’s all fun and games until someone gets hurt, right?”

By the next moment, he looked for all the world as if…whatever that was had never happened, his grin carefree and boyish once more as he pulled a fresh bottle of sake down from a shelf and raised it in a cheeky salute before ducking back out of the kitchen. Leaving you with only the lingering ache of your burned hand, and a surety as he left that Hideyoshi’s last smile hadn’t come anywhere close to reaching his eyes.

#slbp #slbp hideyoshi #slbp fanfic #my writing #amigoingbananas #replies

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