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madeholyy · 2 years ago

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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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myreallovelymind · 7 months ago

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Diary - 2.5 hours edging with my new toy

I love edging on all fours. It does something to me. I would say it's my happy place. Somewhere I can switch off and just be in the moment. I widen my legs, arch my back and lean forward so I'm as exposed as I can be. It makes my pussy so happy.

The problem is... I get very wet. I'm pretty sure it's not typical wet. I've dripped all the way to the floor once down my leg standing up. My pussy just drips and leaks. It also only gets worse with denial! This means that any edging gets tricky. My clit gets really swollen and my vibrator slips everywhere. It makes the whole situation more frustrating but not in a hot way (to me). So, I bought myself one of those clit suction toys. My thought process was that it would latch onto my clit and won't move too much.

It arrived today. My mum asks me what's in my parcel. I panic and say books. She then starts telling me off about buying more books for ten minutes when I just want to put it on charge.

It was meant to be as I had the flat to myself for the afternoon. I asked Daddy for permission to edge. I try out my toy and it's weird. I can't figure it out. It hurts a little? After 10 minutes, I get the hang of where to put it and I start edging hard fast. But I breathe through the waves and I can feel myself goon. I'm on the edge but it's controlled and calm. I just feel like my body is melting onto the bed. I lift my hips up to reposition and that gave me a flashback of Daddy putting me in the same position after I had ruined on his cock.

I message him telling him I need to be fucked. Not any cock. I need Daddy to fuck me like he did a few weeks ago. I had asked Daddy this morning about using my dildo so I can fuck myself. But I told him I don't think I could handle both stimulations without ruining. I had been edging for an hour at this point.

An hour is usually when Daddy would tell me to stop. So I expected him to tell me to stop soon... Daddy instead told me to edge for as long as I can or until 4:30, whichever comes first. That was... 1.5 hours from now. I didn't give myself the option to stop before. He wanted to push me, I was going to obey him.

I just start gooning. I can't watch porn, I can't read porn, I can't even listen to porn. I just close my eyes, and edge. I don't remember much for 20 minutes until my toy died. I put it on charge, and go get my normal vibrator. I wipe my pussy down because it's soaked and go on my back, legs wide. My vibrator feels different and not as good. I watch some creampie compilations and edge harder until I can go back to my new favourite vibrator.

Daddy and I don't exchange that many messages in these couple of hours. He's in meetings and tells me he loves knowing I'm at home edging and suffering for him while he works. That starts to snap me out of gooning. He says he can see it on his watch when I beg? What? The image of him basically seeing his toy melt on his wrist just... kills me.

I start shifting from gooning pet to primal pet. I start thinking about... humping his leg... edging at his feet... being his service sub... My brain is blank. I just feel...

I feel my hard nipples rubbing against the mattress

I feel the cold breeze on my sticky thighs

I feel moans escape my mouth

I feel my breath quicken like I'm hyperventilating

I feel tears running down my face gently

I feel my moans starting to get louder into screams

I beg Daddy for more time as I have only a couple minutes. He says no. I stop at 4:30. My legs collapse and my body shakes. I curl into a ball to try and recentre myself.

I get up and give myself a little self-aftercare. I have tea, chocolate, and some strawberries as I'm writing this to process how I feel. I'm so grateful. Looking back now, another 10 minutes and I would have been too deep to get out without sub dropping.

I can't remember the last time I edge for that long. And I'm in love with my new toy!

#0rgasm denial #edging and denial #edging kink #bd/sm daddy #daddy's wh0re #denial kink #my writing #bd/sm dynamic #bd/sm blog #submission #denial #crying #sub space #gooning #goonette

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whimzeee · 1 year ago

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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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dailycharacteroption · 2 months ago

Text

Pactbound Intitiate (Pathfinder Second Edition Archetype)

(art by Kalfy on DeviantArt)

Yesterday we looked at those who swear oaths in order to gain power, but sometimes accepting a pact means taking on a great burden first and foremost. If you’re lucky the vow comes with some neat powers or privileges, but for the most part, it’s all about the duty that one accepts.

Such is the case with today’s entry, one that’s gonna take some setup to understand.

In the real world, the saumen kar, or Tornit or Tuniit, are sometimes compared to the legends of sasquatch as seen through the lens of Inuit culture, though online resources are admittedly rather limited, so that may be entirely wrong.

In Pathfinder, however, the saumen kar are a horned, yeti-like people with glowing blue runic brands covering their bodies, shining through their fur, who typically live in isolation but occasionally interact with the peoples of the Crown of the World.

Not much is known about the Saumen Kar, even to themselves, for it seems that most of their own history has been lost, with not even the purpose of the runes on their bodies being remembered beyond the passive and active elemental benefits.

It wasn’t until the Monsters of Myth book in Second Edition did we get the reveal of what little these people of the snow remember. I recommend reading the full version in the book, but the cliffnotes version is that the saumen kar discovered the source of the black blood of Orv deep belowground, and in a bid to seal this great evil away, they made a deal with their god, erasing nearly all knowledge of their culture and identity (including their worship of said deity) in order to bind a seal around the great evil and the blood-corrupted undead and whisper-corrupted mortals (including several of their own) beneath the earth.

The runes and spells of the binding are spread about on the skin of every living saumen kar. The exact amount of writing on each on fluctuates with the deaths and births of their people.

There’s just one problem: The saumen kar are dying out. Not only do they lack a stable population for reproduction (many haven’t seen another of their king in ages), but over time the nature of the magical burden they carry has worn down the life expectancy of their species. What once stood for several millenia now reach elderly age after only a few centuries.

Nobody knows exactly what will happen when the last saumen kar dies. Maybe that final sacrifice will complete the seal and lock the evil away for eternity, or maybe they’ll break free. Either way, some saumen kar are not willing to let the world find out. To those among other ancestries they trust, they sometimes offer a chance to share their burden, adding willing beings from outside their species to the binding to help keep the world safe.

Which is where today’s archetype comes into play, representing those that have chosen to accept the responsibility, gaining some of the secrets of saumen kar magic in the exchange. So without further ado, let’s begin!

The base dedication of the archetype requires initiation by a saumen kar. After which, other saumen kar can sense the bond and what it means. Meanwhile, as a base benefit, the initiate gains the ability to blend in with falling snow, hiding their presence.

The saumen kar once could infuse magic into ice to make weapons and items that never melt. What’s more, they are infused with a primal power similar to cold iron, making them quite effective against certain foes.

The pact sworn by their ancestors was meant of the saumen kar alone, and as such, many who accept it find their bodies changing. One such transformation grants a strong sense of smell, stealthy instincts, and mighty horns of the icy primates.

Eventually, many find the icy runes of their patron appearing on their skin. These ward the initiate against evil, let them sense the presence of undead. Meanwhile, they also chill ice-crafted weapons and their horns, dealing additional harm to foes.

Just as many saumen kar trap their foes in icy domes, so can some of these initiates, entrapping foes to be dealt with later.

Finally, there is a point of no return where mortals become truly bound to the pact, becoming very saumen kar-like as their bodies grow. With it, their bodies become even more resistant to cold, and their runes finally provide protection from fire as well. Finally, they gain the ability to reflexively discorporate into icy wind and snow, avoiding attacks and punishing those they engulf with chilling frost before returning to their corporeal form.

This archetype is extremely thematic, so much so that it’s not going to see use outside of a campaign that takes place at least partially in the arctic. That being said, it grants some fun utility such as crafting magic items from ice, as well as melee options for passive extra damage and attacks, as well as escaping harm at the zenith of their power. Pretty much any class can make use of this power, but it seems to do best with natural attack builds.

Now, like yesterday’s entry, this archetype is begging for homebrew. After all, there are a lot of mystical forces and the like that one could take a binding oath to serve and protect, even at great personal cost, so this archetype is a handy template for just that!

Though massive for a shoony and always cold to the touch, Billbram has been a loyal caretaker of his people’s lore for ages. He was not always so, however, but returned from adventuring to the far north with the blessings of the “wise one” that he speaks little of. Even so, the process blessed him with a very long life as a fixture of the community, but even one such as he cannot live forever.

Rimed by frost and bearing a legacy of curses and duty, two foes are set on a collision course. One a disgraced warrior turned graveknight seeking purpose in a power hidden in the farthest north, while the other is blessed by the icy-blue runes that mark his role in guarding that power. When they finally meet, the ice will tremble with their battle, and many forces watch the outcome.

They say that in the center of the ruins of Pelgana lies an ancient weapon that spelled the city’s doom. Greedy nations, blind to the danger, have tried to claim it, but they have all been thwarted by those who guard it, ordinary men and women mostly descended from the citizens of fallen Pelgana, who bear on their brow the rune of the bleeding eye which is emblazoned on the side of the weapon’s outer casing.

#pathfinder second edition #archetype #pactbound initiate #shoony #graveknight #Monsters of Myth

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my-own-au-my-way · 15 days ago

Text

Tw: None except maybe swearing and cuteness :3

Comfort

Christmas

Straight A student x Badass rebel trope I guess

College, the place where all come to learn. Even during the festive season college students chat away, planning holidays and gatherings.

However all but one was planning holidays, you were stuck staying on campus due to your lack of family able to take you in. You are a straight A student, you study hard and even manage the class chores.

Yet now here you are, sitting alone at the school cafeteria with nothing but your books and food to keep you company....or so you thought.

A shadow blocked the light forcing you to look up from your book, to your absolute shock....It's the latest exchange student Sukuna.Every piercing of his made him stick out like a sore thumb, yet to you they just added to his roguish appearance.

Biting down on your lower lip, having to reign in your own inner thoughts to say something."Can I help you?."

You internally facepalmed at yourself, of all the questions you had to ask. Yet he had this smirk that made your pulse race, why was he doing this?. Is this amusing to him to see these reactions?.

"Just thought I come check on a pretty lady like yourself who's sitting all alone." He says with this tone that sent shivers up your spine and not in a fearful way.

Narrowing your eyes looking at him,"So Im alone most times or Im in the library, Is it weird for someone to actually study?."

A low whistle leaving his lips along with that signature smirk,"Seems you got some fight In you, I like It. So maybe a smart pretty lady like yourself could give me some lessons-."

Watching as he leaned closer, his palms on the table with his face inches from yours as he whispers for only you to hear.

"Maybe you and me could get to know each other while learning something besides math~." He purred out softly, leaving you so flustered that you almost forgot why you were annoyed.

Soon your hand covers his face pushing him away in your flustered state,"Sh-Shut up...Im not a teacher-."

Your wrist was gripped as he pries you away, he only seemed encouraged by your rather adorable reaction."Come on gorgeous, just one lesson~. I promise I will be on my best behavior~."

The way his voice made you melt, made you want to say yes. This world was so unfair how he decides you to be his target when there are so many other ladies to pester.

"Lets be serious Ryomen, why are you really talking to me?. Most only want me to help finish their late homework and nothing else."

Giving you a rather serious look he shakes his head,"I don't care about that since Im long since done with my homework. You remember there is this Christmas party coming up that we throwing in the college assembly hall?, well Im here to ask that you be my plus one...my fiery little fox~."

You were stunned in that moment, you never get approached by anyone unless it benefits the other in question. Yet here is the hottest guy and most rebelious badass exchange student asling you to attend the biggest party of the year. Forcing yourself out of your stunned silence manage to answer him,"F-Fine...though I still don't understand why me since there are so many others prettier than me-."

A finger sealed your lips, his look telling you to shut up.

"They lack personality, so they can fuck off as far as Im concerned."

Next thing your mind went blank, feeling his lips on yours. He actually kissed you, leaving you in a daze as he saunters off, proud of himself for getting you to say yes.

The only evidence he was there, a simple note with his number and the scent of his body spray. Looks like your homework is long since done, your mind had blanked out since this meet up. You end up texting him one simple sentence.

Texting chat:

Y/n:"....I- Why are you making me feel things!?."

Sukuna:"Aww you so adorable when you flustered lil foxy~."

Y/n:"Shut up-."

Sukuna:"Nah this way more entertaining for me."

𖠰❄︎𖠰❄︎𖠰❄︎𖠰❄︎𖠰❄︎𖠰❄︎𖠰❄︎𖠰❄︎𖠰❄︎𖠰❄︎𖠰

You both had this understanding that no one else had, the dynamics you had. Your dates were subtle, so as not to draw attention as you get shy. When others stared at you for too long, he drapes his jacket over you and gives said people a warning glare. Y/n knew she had developed feelings for this badass exchange student, yet she still questioned herself why. Though her self doubt never lasted long when he pulls you out of your thoughts, even If Its a playful flick of your forehead.

You, Y/n have finally accepted that he has your heart and better not break It.

@gojos-version

#hope you like it and may Sukuna be by your side for eternity

#jjk sukuna #jjk series #jjk au #jjk x reader

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misscammiedawn · 6 months ago

Note

What is your favorite thing about hypnosis?

It's a gateway to emotional connection. There's something so intimate and tender about the level of trust it takes to just give yourself over to someone else's care, to create magic with imagination and forge a bond.

There's something so beautiful about someone making you melt against them with a firm action or ignite your senses with some well placed words. It's like all the swooning and elated highs of Top/Sub Space without like the adrenaline spikes and physical stuff.

Plus it's nice to just let go? You know? Let yourself stop being stressed, to just follow someone's guidance and accept a blissful surrender? To care for a partner and to be taken care of? To engage in an intimate dance of give and take where two hearts just sync up and have a push/pull of emotional exchange.

Our heart just melts thinking about the way Sleepyhead's eyes flutter when she gives that little "oooh" sigh when allowed to go deep or we hear the affectionate growl in Daja's voice when she uses her magic voice.

We love being able to cuddle Precious and feel an emotional bond with any of our partners or to be able to squeeze our long distance love's hand from states away.

It's the closest thing to magic in a world with so very little true joy.

Most of the time we don't really do much more than go in and out of trance and any suggestions we pull on either side of the watch are usually just playing with the method, emotion and depth of trance.

We used to do a lot of guided imagery work but it's lost its allure since all the character stuff we have been fairly outspoken about. We're just content to let hypnosis itself be the fascination now. In a way it's always been about hypnosis itself. The method, the practice, the engaging--

Like, let's go over our origin story. We have said it a bunch on this blog but it always bares repeating because despite the whole tagging system we don't expect anyone other than ourselves to go digging into the archives.

We got into it in our teens because we were like SUPER into stage magic. Can't remember the origins but we watched specials when they were on ITV and there was a hypnosis show on too. British TV has laws against displaying hypnosis on television and someone we knew was at a taping and we were like "TELL US WHAT THEY CENSOR ON THE SHOW!" and it was like the first time we realized that hypnosis was like real? Like we knew stage magic was real (as in, we were fascinated by how it was performed, not that we believed that magicians could fly and disappear and such) too but like, it wasn't deception, it was suggestion? If that makes sense? And I think learning that was super formative for our obsession.

There was also this UK Megalab thing in the early 90s which was formative? Like they were doing tests on if subliminal advertising worked or not with a call in reaction where parts of the nation were shown subliminals and others weren't and we were like SO fascinated by it.

We don't remember the details but remember a similar sort of "glued to the TV" reaction to it?

Anyway. That's why we fell in love.

And we read SO MANY BOOKS after we settled down from the life disruption at 17. We didn't have a lot of entertainment options back then and so did a lot of library reading and living at the local Borders-- those years all blur together but we did a bunch of reading, especially on Ericksonian stuff and then we got tangled with the online community which--- well-- we've typed about the early community.

But eventually we found our people, found our niche and ended up being one of the peoples that really take a shine to it on both sides of the watch. We're never gonna be like Sleepyhead or sleepingirl and we don't really wanna be. We wanna be the only CamDawn and we do pretty good at that.

Every year at Charmed and Beguiled we get reminded that we're part of this community and part of the conversation and that is something wonderful too. Hypnosis is pretty much our biggest lifelong obsession and though there are better things to dedicate one's time and obsession too, we're lucky we have the thing we have. It's who we are and it makes us so so happy!

#cammie asks #hypno asks #hypnokink

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icycoldninja · 1 year ago

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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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regulationbluebunny · 1 year ago

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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dimepdf · 3 years ago

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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.

[ ❥ ] taglist. @sh3lov3dyou @spenglerslime @eichenhouseproperty @lil-tracys @smellylittlesamuel @athenstheidiot @brokeniced @your-mom21 @23victoria @bunnyweasley23 @chaotic-fangirl-blog @wh0reforbucknasty @i-write-stories-not-sins-bitch @1efleur @euph0riafilms @xochitlsgolfcart @iamairfreshener @loveshineslikethesky @willowwonka @spenglerslime @imahoforthings @eichenhouseproperty

tap here to be added to taglist or comment below!

#[ ⇢ ˗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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canariie · 2 years ago

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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rabidredsalsa · 3 years ago

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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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sfw-mcu · 2 years ago

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 · 3 years ago

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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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