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fluorynn · 19 days

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🎆 — 𝐧𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐨𝐫 | 𝐧. 𝐬𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐲 ( one-shot )

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 : Aged up!tattooed!Neteyam ✗ fem!human!reader

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 / 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 : AGED UP!NETEYAM — don’t like it? Please don’t read! implied!smut, spanking, teasing, heavy touching, tattooed!Neteyam being obsessed with reader’s tits, implied sex on the beach—Neteyam just loving on reader’s body, guys shsjdkdkdk—

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 : 1.5k+

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬 : @bambithewriter @rivatar @jioohyo @property-of-neteyam @pandoraslxna @xstarsdiary @xylianasblog

author’s note : neteyam with tattoos. The vision, THE VISION GUYS. Lemme know what you think😭😭

“You see now, narlor ( beautiful ), these right here—” The pair of tattooed hands which belonged to Neteyam had skidded from your bare waist to the scarcely clothed plumpness of your breasts, the perkiness of your nipples. Hands which held a great convenience in engulfing entirely, slender digits practically entwining around the expanse of your back from how much smaller you were than him, his palms delicately kneading the soft flesh. “These lovely girls brighten my day. If I am upset, they commit to making me content. If I am stressed, they relieve me. They relieve me far better than anything else on Pandora.”

While your current sitting position upon his tsurak made it much easier for you to meet him at an eye-level as he was within the water, the pressure of his touch accompanied by the hefty weight of his elongated frame leaning forward pushed you further against the squirming tsurak.

“Teyam, baby,” The pair of dainty hands which belonged to you splayed over his ink etched shoulders to keep him from leaning forward. Hands which held purposeless strength when it came to be compared to Neteyam — or any other Na’vi for that matter. A giggle bubbled from your throat from the way that your ridiculously tall lover’s accent emphasized his words spoken in English while his affections dawdled every inch of you. “You play too much, you know that? I mean, you can’t be serious.”

“Uh, yes I certainly am fucking serious.” The edges of his mouth twisted downwards, a form of a crease upon his striped forehead. “I adore every part of you, tìyawn. From those pretty eyes and pretty smile, that soft belly and thighs that are so plushy and drive me insane,” The extent of his tail wreathed around your thigh, its length nearly taking up the entire limb. “And do you want to know something else, hmm? Just by receiving a look from you after a long day of training, swimming and patrolling makes me so content…but when I get the opportunity to do more than just look at you, and I get to touch you,'' His head canted back, the subtle clink of his plaits accompanying the groan that breathed into the star-filled sky, and the desperate sound was nearly enough to make a whimper drawl out of you. “Great Mother, words can’t describe that amazing opportunity.”

Your bottom lip curled between your teeth, gnawing the supple flesh at the flawless sight you had of the pillar of his throat; the vivid twinkles of Neteyam’s freckles clashing beautifully with the velvet blues of his skin beneath the night’s glow. The honed structure of his jawline contrasted beneath the beads of necklaces and tattooed art you had taken a passionate liking to.

His kuru was still entangled in the bond with his tsurak, mind giving a command to gently swim you to the coastline of Awa’atlu. While Neteyam followed along, that does not mean he paused the leisurely journey his touch made around your body; brushing from the outer curves of your breasts, finger pads grazing below your ribcage to encircle around your waist before a brim of some sort of curiosity crossed his features. His hands then deftly slid beneath you, and forgotten was the tsurak the moment the shore came to view.

“And this? This perfect ass of yours is so damn good for me, my love.”

The sharpness of his large palm colliding with the meat of your ass reverberated through Pandora’s atmosphere followed by your yelp of a stunned ‘hey!’. Stunned from both the vulgarity of his tongue and the outburst of his actions.

“Forgive me, narlor.” He chuckled endearingly, not resisting the urge to smack your ass once, then twice, applying almost all of his strength to the pressure which sent a wave of scorching heat across your neutral toned skin. You reached for him, planting your hands over his damp chest, the density of your lashes fluttering down as gleaming incisors scraped over the flushed apple of your cheek, softly biting down in a teasing manner until wisps of giggles flew from you.

“Yeah, that is the best of the best right there, is it not?” He mused, ear flitting near your jaw emphasizing his content. One arm now fully enclosed around your midsection, your forearms resting upon his shoulders while he made his way out the water which was halfway up his torso. He didn’t need to see to know which way he was going though. While he was entranced in the pretty depths of your eyes and let his forehead hover over yours, he was certain where he went.

“Well then, I believe I’m glad I could be of use to the mighty warrior.” you replied, the breathless and amusement of your voice bestowing how much you reveled in his act as one of your hands delicately soothed over your sore cheek. The other admiringly traced over the tattoos encircling his bicep, twisting and turning up across his defined collarbone and skimming up his neck, cheek, and temple, telling a story no other human would understand but you. Fingertips fiddled over the adorable flickers of his high perched wars, and soon threaded into the cascade of his dark braids.

He perhaps was not the only one completely enamored with every detail of his lover. But could you really be blamed? Every part of Neteyam was beyond captivating.

“Irayo ( thank you ).” Sharp incisors collided with the brilliance of his smile, squeezing his hold around you. In one smooth motion within the water, thanks to his inhuman strength, he hoisted you a bit higher so your legs now wrapped beneath his arms, chest now flushed against the length of his broad one, feeling the muscle’s tight coils, the immense heat he radiated despite being in the cool water.

You chewed your lip at how his large hand pushed into the small arch of your back, the subtle swirls of his tail due to excitement because of such proximity stirring you within.

Neteyam acknowledged how much you enjoyed being manhandled by him and him only — whether it be gently or unruly — and he never wasted any chance given to take action on it and witness the vulnerability you gained when he did, making the most of it in his time spent with you.

Long fingers glide up your throat, long enough to engulf the entire base, the index one curling around your jaw. His thumb gently pushed your chin up and slanting your head slightly up until you were met with the warrior’s resplendent irises.

“Yet do you know what, who else is the cause of my content?” He inquired, raking his (appealing) tongue over his lower lip.

The simple act had your thighs clench hard around him, a throbbing pulse flaring to existence between.

“N-no..” Lies. It was more than obvious by the feign of innocence glazing those pretty doe-like eyes.

His own eyes, gleaming and fierce, called out to you. Silent to others, yet soaring for your soul. His senses more than feel the spasms of heat from your every fiber, every curve. He released his hold on your face, both hands now enveloping your ass.

“You are certain of this, yawntutsyìp?”

“U-uh huh, yeah…” anticipation swelled in your chest as you shakily exhaled, mentally cursing for not having anything to physically support yourself other than Neteyam’s grand body. By now, his feet were already amongst the sand and you’re still being held up by him.

Without taking his sharp gaze off you, he slowly, so very slowly started to descend down to his knees in the middle of the beach. Though with his descent brought the ascent of your body, the intoxicating scent of your essence being inhaled by his flaring nose while your legs dangling over his shoulders. You could have been afraid, yet the trust felt for him and arousal growing outweighed that fear, and instead you let him do whatever it was he pleased.

He knew this from the mischief that struck his features as your back subtly met the damp sand, as you shuffled until you were propped on your elbows to look down at him and his large body slithered down, gazing up at you with love and lust.

He traced the abstaining desire on your face, thrill surging through the warrior. His face nestled against your tummy while nimble digits undid the twines of your own tewng, his nose and puckered lips feathering over the bare skin of your thighs while his hands slid lower and lower…

Eyes fell to the between your slightly parted legs, taking in the glistening appeal, and a soft smirk twisted his lips up. “May I show you just how much she makes me content?”

“I-if that’s what you wanna do…” Even you could not fall for your poor attempt at the facade of nonchalance.

His smirk spiraled, two fingers brushing down said curve between your thigh and hip bone before dipping down to your pussy the very exact time a wave came crashing along the shoreline, and if it weren’t for the shielding of his body you may have been caught in it. But somehow, the harsh sensations given from the ocean deliciously twisted something in your stomach when it came upon Neteyam’s silhouette, in a trance at the predator-like swivels of his tail.

He grinned widely against you, “Narlor, what I am about to do to you and my girl is going to make us very, very content…”

#avatar pandora #avatar the way of water #avatar #avatar james cameron #atwow #¡¡ ŋყཞཞ !! 🪼🪼#avatar 2009 #𝐍¥𝐑𝐑’𝐒 𝐏𝐄𝐍 !*ೃ༄#neteyam x reader smut #neteyam te suli tsyeyk'itan #neteyam x human reader #aged up!neteyam #tattooed!Neteyam #neteyam smut #neteyam #neteyam x reader #avatar x reader #neteyam sully

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johnwickb1tsch · 2 months

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bittersweet ~ a yandere!John Wick x fem!reader sunshine/grump coffee shop AU... Part 20 all chapters

gif credit to dilfgifs

WARNING: NSFW, SEXUAL CONTENT, YANDERE SH!T. Plz take care. I luv u all. 😘

-You try to go as long as you can, but later that night you decide you just can’t stand it anymore. You’re pretty sure it’s been days, and you feel gross.

“Can I…use your shower?”

He turns to you with a small smile. “You mean, our shower? Yes.”

Hoping that’s the end of it, and this exchange won’t get weird, you slip out from under his arm to go into the bathroom. You check your prospects, finding expensive shampoo, conditioner, bodywash, shaving gel…but no razor. You guess you get it, kind of, but really. Then again, maybe you'd better not ask. Why send mixed signals by shaving off your body hair? It’s just an aesthetic mostly catering to the male gaze anyway…

But it bugs you.

You pop your head back out of the door. “Razor?”

He doesn’t even look up from his book.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

This annoys you for some reason. “Just so you know, I am not going to try to kill myself.” Brave words for someone in your situation, but at least at the moment, you mean them.

“I was more worried you might try to kill me.”

You open your mouth again, until he fixes you with that laser-like stare. “Just take your shower, y/n, or do I have to come in there to help you?”

The thought of his large hands on your body slick with soap sends an inconvenient spear of desire straight to your center.

“No.”

You disappear fast as a groundhog into its burrow, closing the door behind you.

“Door open!” he yells in that particular tone, and sensing the shift in his mood, you comply rather than pull his tail some more.

Well done, you, you chide yourself as you strip out of your dirty dress and your ACE bandage in the cavernous shower. He was actually in a good mood, somehow, after you tried to knock his head off with a book. And now you…what? You did something to piss him off, at least a little bit.

Learning his moods was going to take some doing.

It was the only way you were getting out of here alive.

You keep looking over your shoulder, half expecting to see him looming behind you. That man moves silent as a ghost when he feels like it.

It’s creepy. And…kind of hot, if you’re being honest, but that is not a helpful thought.

You feel a thousand times better with all the grime washed from your hair and your body. You wrap yourself in a big fluffy towel that feels like a cloud on your skin, and put off going into the bedroom by drying your hair.

There are products on the sink that you use, face lotions and hair creams, and more expensive versions of the same type that you could never afford. How did he know?

Then again, he has fucking gorgeous hair, he probably knows more about styling product than you do.

You turn to look at his handiwork upon your bum. The bruise is a red and purple swirl nearly the size of your fist. You can actually see the neat lines of his teeth marks. “Jesus Christ.”

His eye was going to heal way before that was.

When you can’t really dawdle in the bathroom anymore, you war with the next conundrum.

Fresh clothes.

Fuck it. You march out, heading for the closet without making eye contact with the reclining leopard on the bed. You can feel his eyes on you, and fuck if it doesn’t turn you on to be watched like that. Like you are some kind of prize to be desired.

It feels utterly insane to you, to say the least. You’re not that beautiful, but he looks at you like you’re Helen of Troy.

With your hand on the closet door John clears his throat pointedly.

You know you can’t ignore him. Risking his wrath while you’re wrapped in nothing but a bath towel is so not a good idea.

You turn to find he’s laid something out at the foot of the bed for you already.

“Wear this,” he says. It’s an order clothed in velvet. Polite, but…you sense the unyielding directive underneath.

You pad on bare feet to the foot of the bed. It’s a silky lavender nightie with lace at the bodice. Nothing too wacky. No embarrassing peep holes or extraneous straps. You are somewhat relieved.

Until you see the underwear he’s paired with them.

Your underwear, as a matter of fact.

Those went missing a long time ago.

Speechless, you look to him, knowing you look like a fish out of water but unsure what to say.

This has been going on for way longer than you even knew, and you didn’t have a clue.

“You took these from my apartment.” You manage not to yell it.

“I didn’t want you to wear them for anyone but me.” He has the cheek to sound grouchy about it, like you did something wrong.

You feel your temper rising like the mercury in a thermometer. You know you’re going to say something stupid, but you just don’t know how to keep it in.

“How. Fucking. Dare you?”

He just sighs, like he already knows how this is going to go. “Don’t play this game with me, baby.”

You bite down on the impulse to demand he not call you baby.

“You could have just…asked me out. I would have said yes, you know?”

He actually looks away as you tell him this.

“Maybe you would have. Until you realized I’m just a bitter old man, and you would have left me.”

You blink at that. How can he be so smart, and yet so blind?

“I knew you were a bitter old man all along! But you know what? I liked you anyway. I thought you were interesting, and funny, and so fucking handsome, and I wanted to fuck you. But now…” You clench your fists, shaking with all the vitriol you know you can’t unleash on this unpredictable man.

This unpredictable killer.

He takes your fury, seemingly nonplussed. You’re not sure any of it registers at all, and it takes some of the wind out of your sails. ��This isn’t love, John,” you say quietly, your throat tightening with every syllable. “Love is…having the courage to bare your heart to the sword, and take what comes. You can’t control it like this.”

He tilts his head at this, a wave of that lovely dark hair covering his face. You get the feeling like he’s hiding from you, when he does that.

Finally he asks, “Have you ever been stabbed, y/n?”

Your heart skips a beat, as you wonder if he’s threatening you. “No.”

“Well let me tell you. It fucking hurts.”

Then he reaches down the bed to pluck up the panties, sticking them in his pocket. “I guess I’ll just keep these. You’re not going to need them anyway.”

You glare daggers at him.

He offers you the slightest, smuggest, smile.

“You sonofabitch.”

“Watch that mouth, kitten. Unless you want me to fill it up with something else.”

You bare your teeth with the thought. “I fucking dare you,” you spit, snatching up the nightie to take it to the bathroom to change.

“Nuh uh,” he interjects. “Change here.”

You freeze in your tracks, understanding exactly what he’s demanding of you.

This is how it’s going to be, you tell yourself. He’s going to be sweet, and then he’s going to be insufferable, and if you’re not careful, he’ll get downright mean. Don’t be fooled by the sweet moods, because all the rest is just beneath the surface waiting.

It was so hard to remind yourself of that, when he was being good to you.

You don’t turn around. You moonlighted as a drawing model after college. You can handle this, right? He’s already seen parts of you anyway…

It’s soooooooooo much different than being in that classroom, when you undo your towel and let it fall to the floor. You can feel the weight of his gaze on your bare form. In the end, knowing it’s just your backside, that he’s already gotten way more than an eyeful of…doesn’t really help. With shaking hands you quickly you pull the nightie over your head.

You hope he feels guilty about the size of that fucking bruise, but you have a feeling he probably likes seeing his marks on you.

“Come here.” He practically purrs, and your flesh aches for the sound. Fuck.

You turn to face him, but do not move. Once again, that glorious boner is making an appearance. It’s almost flattering, how often this man has a hard-on when he’s around you. If this had been a normal relationship, you would have made it your mission to oblige him at every opportunity, just to see what the old man could take.

As it is…all you want to do is fight him, and you know you are destined to lose.

He pats his thigh, as though he expects you to sit on his lap. Without underwear. Or a bra. Or a sense of self-preservation.

You shake your head no with the glitter of moisture in the corners of your eyes. You’ve never felt so helpless in your life, and you hate it.

He frowns at your defiance. My god, no one can do a forbidding frown, like Mr. John Wick. It lodges your heart in your throat, even while you find him magnificent.

“Are you going to make me make you?”

And there it is.

You sigh, and you feel like a piece of your soul exits your body. Good. Good, be empty. He can’t hurt an empty husk.

“I guess so.”

You close your eyes, and you wait. You wait for his rough hands, for the violence that is surely coming to you. You shake like a leaf, unable to stop. You don't know why you'd allowed yourself to hold out some hope, that maybe he really wasn't going to hurt you.

Yet, it does not come.

You open your eyes to find him still frowning at you. He hasn’t moved a muscle.

The longest three seconds of your life tick by. You count them in your thundering heartbeats, and then he scoots over on the bed. “Fine. Come lay by me then.”

You are shocked to your toes. You forget how to move.

“Now.” He snaps his fingers, pointing to the bed beside him, and you scurry over before he loses his patience with this kinder offer. Cautiously you crawl up beside him, and when he holds up his arm you understand the cue, snuggling into his side with your head on his shoulder.

Alright, this, you can do.

This feels almost…normal. The way your head fits into the divot of his shoulder is just…divine, if you’re being honest, and your body shudders as you suppress a sob, hiding your face against his chest. It’s not fair, that you still want him so much, and you mourn for the promise of sweetness that was snatched from your table before you ever really got a chance to taste it.

“Shh,” he soothes, touching your hair, his big hand dwarfing the crown of your head. “I’ll try to remember to be patient with you.”

You nod against him, wanting to believe him, knowing that makes you a sad little fool.

“But my patience has its limits. Remember that, kitten.”

Oh. You weren’t going to forget.

He continues to hold you, and eventually your heart slows, the tension in your body finally relaxing.

It’s incredible, really, how you just can’t leave well enough alone.

Now that you’ve both calmed, you feel bold enough to ask, “John?”

“Yeah, baby?” His lips on the top of your head make your eyelids flutter, it’s so sweet.

“Do you…at least know that it was wrong, to break into my apartment?” You feel like the answer to this one question will help you gauge everything about his state of mind.

He is silent for a long time. Long enough to let your imagination run rampant with the things he might do to punish you for this impertinence, after he was so generous as to just let you lay down with him and snuggle.

Yet there’s no anger in his voice when he answers, “Yeah. But I’ve been breaking the law my whole life, sweetheart, and no one’s stopped me yet.”

It’s the truth, and a nice neat little warning, all wrapped up in one.

You should be scared again, but you just sigh against his chest. Maybe you’ve used up whatever hormone is responsible for adequate fear responses for the day. Or maybe…his games are working on you already, claiming your sanity inch by inch.

You lay there in his arms, and eventually you start to doze. He strokes your hair, a sweet and lulling touch that makes you curl your toes. When those featherlight fingertips find their way to the back of your neck, and the tops of your shoulders, you cannot help but squirm. In your half-asleep state, this is your kryptonite, and your leg tangles with his, your pelvis pressing against his hip. It feels like the most natural thing in the world, to crane your head towards him.

Only when you feel him shift to lean towards you for a kiss, do you realize what you are doing.

You turn your head at the last second, and his grip on you tightens from comforting to bruising in a nanosecond. “Wait—”

He has you on your back before you can blink.

“Are we still pretending you don’t want me, kitten?”

“I…”

Suddenly his hand is between your legs, manhandling you like he owns you, raking up your thigh to swipe at your folds. He finds you soaking wet with slick, of course, and he makes a point to press your clit with his thick fingers as he withdraws. It sends an agonizing jolt of desire spreading through the cradle of your hips, the ache in your stupid little cunt nigh unbearable. You hardly recognize the keening sound that escapes your mouth.

Was that you?

It worsens ten-fold as you watch him bring his fingers to his lips, sucking them clean. “Tastes like lies to me.”

Goddammit.

“John…”

You can hardly believe it, when he slides off of the bed, leaving you cold and alone, confused and filled with desire. The pulsing ache between your legs drowns out any rational thoughts you might have had a moment ago.

“Little liars don’t get to cum. I’ll let you think about that tonight.”

You feel like you did that night in Italy, watching him walk out the door when all you really want is to feel his thick, insatiable cock teeming inside you.

Which is fucking insane, of course.

And you were thinking he might be the crazy one?

“Same rules, sweetheart. Don’t you dare touch yourself tonight. I’ll fucking know.”

With one last baleful look over of his shoulder he touches his hand to the lock, and sweeps out of the room. He leaves you stunned on the bed, disheveled and unsure, once again, of what the fuck just happened?

#john wick #john wick fic #john wick x reader #john wick x you #john wick x y/n #keanu reeves x reader #keanu reeves #bittersweet john wick imagine #yandere john wick #yandere #i didn't think id get a chance to post tonight so BONUS i love you all!

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antiquatedplumbobs · 2 months

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Spring 1916

~an excerpt from Elsie Sewell's private diary~

Spring has arrived! The calendar has been saying it had been here for weeks, but today it really and truly made its presence known. The east field is awash with flowers and I simply had to stop and pick a bouquet, they had the sweetest scent and the most delicate yellow petals. Mamma was rather irritated that it made me a bit late coming home, but I can't very much see why. I was back with plenty of time to prepare supper (she had an Aide Society meeting) and the house smelled ever so sweet as I did. No one complained about my victual offerings either.

I am quite pleased to be done with the schoolhouse; sums and grammar were always ever so boring and pointless. It is ever so much better to spend the day with work that actually has to be done, rather than made up to torture us. I enjoy most housework, cooking and sewing in particular, but laundry... There's something about that specific task I have not yet resigned myself too.

I think we all have that particular chore that we dislike more than the others, though none of the adults will admit so to my face. Laundry is a necessary evil though, or we should all go around naked, as Adam and Eve did in the garden of Eden, and the climate her could never allow such an indulgence, so laundry we must do.

It does feel good to be helping around the house more and take some of the burden off Mamma; I can't imagine how she did all this work on her own for years, it's quite a lot between the two of us. Despite my continued propensity to "dawdle" as Mamma puts it, she still sends me on all the errands, I think she likes having the house to herself just as much I like the walk into town. Sometimes Lydia accompanies me if her mother also needs something fetched.

The general store is the best store in town, it's filled floor to ceiling with everything you could ever need. Dottie's always mighty pleased to see us and if she's busy Mr. and Mrs. Greenfield are always so sweet to me. Sometimes Mr. Greenfield slips me penny candy in with my orders with a little wink.

Dottie, Lydia and I don't see each other as much as when we were in school, but now that we're older when we're finished with chores and housework we have so much more freedom to go on walks or sit down by the inlet. The sun hits the old dock down there in the afternoon and it's so pleasant, especially if there's a breeze coming off the water.

We chat about anything and everything; Dottie always has all the news of the town since she talks to just about everyone at the general store. Mamma says it's wrong to gossip, but she always says that after I've given her all the news. Lydia is such a hoot, she has the strongest opinions on everything and everyone. Just the other day she was informing (lecturing one might say) us on the proper etiquette for accepting a proposal; according to Mrs. Parr proper young ladies should never accept their first proposal, they must refuse and wait for the man to ask again, that's how she'll know he's serious and will make a good husband. Apparently she turned Mr. Parr down thrice. Dottie and I both thought that was completely silly. Mamma said yes to her first proposal and she seems quite content with her lot.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

next / previous / first

#ts4 #sims 4 #sims 4 decades challenge #decades challenge #ts4 story #sims 4 story #ts4 historical #sims 4 historical #simblr #ts4 legacy #sims 4 legacy #elizabeth sewell #sewell legacy #sewell 1910s

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lansplaining · 5 months

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this may be shit-stirring but please elaborate on the jc preferred ship is based on the "best" aspect of his character post 👀👀👀

ahaha yes it might be, which is why I've been dawdling trying to find the right wording, but oh well

sangcheng = jiang cheng is at his best/happiest/truest self when he's a slightly goofy tsundere palling around with the lads. i see a lot of people saying that they like the idea of two broken men finding each other after canon, but i so rarely see that as actual sangcheng content-- and even then, surely the concept is it's about healing through some kind of return to their teenage friendships/selves?

xicheng = kind of oddly the same? his anger is cathartic, not damaging. he just needs a lan of his own to match wei wuxian. brother sets restored, etc.

chengqing = duty, loyalty, doomedness. people who feel the tragedy of never getting to be happy is what makes jiang cheng interesting, and therefore his most honorable traits are his best ones because they are utterly useless to him when trying to be happy.

chengyao = bitch queen jiujiu is the best jiang cheng. a circumstantial relationship that could never last, and whose significance everyone involved would deny forever. simultaneously an appreciation of jiang cheng's talent as a sect leader but also feeling like he simply is a guy who will die alone.

chengxuan = dickhead4dickhead. heir4heir. the "what if someone chose jiang cheng over his siblings for once" of sangcheng meets the "i am corseted by responsibility" of chengqing only this time the doom comes from outside.

chengxian = bitch you're never getting away from this guy

#ask answered #i feel like there's probably a ship i'm missing but these are the big ones i feel

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dialovers-translations · 10 months

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DIABOLIK LOVERS ZERO Animate Tokuten Drama CD “A Vampire’s Late Night Snack Terror” [Reiji ver.]

Original title: 夜更かしヴァンパイアの食テロ飯 [レイジ編]

Source: Diabolik Lovers ZERO Vol. 8 Animate Tokuten CD

Audio: Here

Seiyuu: Katsuyuki Konishi

Translator’s note: Honestly, Reiji deserves so much more respect than what he gets. Not only does this man get up early to get chores done because his other five brothers won’t do jack-shit, he even goes out of his way to do extra groceries and make a first-class breakfast for his girl. I feel like most of the other Diaboys could barely even toast a piece of bread without burning it lol.

*Cling cling*

You enter the kitchen.

“...Hm? What is the matter? It is still too early to be getting up.”

You ask him why he is up already.

“Unlike the other people at this home, I happen to have an extensive to-do list, so I must get started with all of my chores early, or else I will regret it afterwards. ーー More importantly, you mentioned something about not being able to sleep? If you are feeling unwell, I can get you some medicine.”

You explain.

“Do not tell me...You cannot sleep because of the hunger? How unfortunate...I cannot believe your stomach is growling despite getting three proper meals a day. You should know better.”

You apologize.

“Well, I shall forgive you this once. I suppose it is partially my responsibility as well for not looking after you better. ーー I suppose it cannot be helped. We still have time before we have to leave to school, so I shall make you an early breakfast.”

You seem excited.

“Yes. If you have any requests, go ahead. As you should be aware, I am quite confident in my own cooking abilities. No matter how complex or luxurious of a dish, I will prepare it to perfection. Well then, what is your order?”

You make your request.

“What did you...say just now?”

You repeat it.

“You are asking me to make...tamagogake-gohan, out of all things? You crack a raw egg (1) over the rice, add some soy sauce and you’re done. You want me to go out of my way to make something so simple?”

You ask him if he won’t make it.

“No, I never said that I will not make it. ...Very well! I shall show you what a real plate of eggs over rice looks like!”

*Thud*

“In which case, we must first gathered the necessary ingredients. There is no time to lose! I shall call the limousine at once. Off we go!”

You seem surprised.

“What are you doing!? Come on, make haste!”

*TIMESKIP*

*Clatter clatter*

*Rustle*

“It is truly a blessing that there are stores which are still open in the middle of the night.”

You offer to pay for the parking fee since he has his hands full with the groceries.

“That would be a big help. This is the money. Here you go.”

You ask Reiji what is inside the bags in his arms.

“Excuse me? Can you not tell? They’re bags of rice. There’s high-quality rice inside.”

You seem surprised.

“You came along not even realizing why we took the car? Haah...You truly need to do something about how slow-witted you are. One cannot cook without the right ingredients, so we shall we going around to gather all of the necessary things. ーー The very best ones available!

Tamagogake-gohan consists of a perfectly balanced combination of eggs, soy sauce and rice with each ingredient being brought to its full potential. We cannot afford skimping on any of them. ...I happen to be a regular at this store, you see. The rice sold at this store has been selected by a rice connoisseur of which only a few exist in this country, so it is of the highest quality!”

You tilt your head to the side.

“You do not even know what a ‘rice connoisseur’ is...? Take should be common knowledge. Make sure to do your research afterwards, understood? Anyway, we are headed for the chicken farm next. I know it is quite late, but I am sure I can arrange something by using my connections.”

You frown.

“Why the hesitation? We are talking about the eggs which are the main star of the dish! I will not make any compromises!”

*Rustle*

“No more dawdling! Let’s go!”

*TIMESKIP*

The two of you return home.

*Thud*

“...Haah. That ended up taking more time than I anticipated.”

You admit being glad that you’re finally done.

“What nonsense are you spouting? We finally gathered all necessary ingredients! If we’re ‘done’, why did we get these fresh ingredients in the first place? But we must make haste, or else the others will wake up.”

*Rustle*

“To the kitchen at once! We shall start cooking!”

The two of you go to the kitchen.

“We shall start by cooking the rice. I believe that I can skip over the instructions for this one.”

Reiji gets the rice cooker started.

*Beep*

“Next we must choose which bowl to serve it in.”

You ask if that is important.

“Why of course. A high class meal is not only defined by the food itself. One must choose a plate which will truly bring the dish to life.”

*Cling cling*

“Let me think...Usually I would go for something a little more ‘art nouveau’, but how about we use this bowl today? I am glad I decided to purchase this one for moments like this.”

You note that it is quite plain.

“What are you saying? A plain bowl is a fine piece of silverware as well! Just look at the gloss and pattern, simply marvelous!”

You raise one brow.

“Why are you giving me that look? I do understand that I might sound rather out-of-character right now, but look at it like this. I even went out of my way to buy a home-style takoyaki grill to hold a takoyaki party at home, so I must keep the name of the Sakamaki household high. ...More importantly, we should finish setting the table before the rice is done cooking. Well then, please lend me a hand.”

*TIMESKIP*

Reiji opens the rice cooker.

“It turned out rather nicely. The rice looks shiny and has the right amount of fluffiness to it. As to be expected of a dish made with a product from a true rice connoisseur!”

You point out that his glasses have fogged up.

“Do not worry about my glasses being fogged up. It is only natural for this to happen when exposed to hot steam.”

*Cling cling*

“More importantly...Let us get started! ...Allow me to show you my skills! ーー I shall start by scooping the fluffy rice into the bowl. Rather than filling it to the brim, I will serve a moderate portion. This is the most elegant way to serve it. Then on top I will sprinkle some cod roe, dried seaweed and yuzu salt. ...It would be rather boring to stick to the basic recipe, no? This is my personal interpretation of the dish, do not worry. I can assure that it will taste sublime.”

He cracks an egg.

“Well then, last but not least we crack in a fresh, raw egg and pour some of this special soy sauce on top. ーー It is done. This is the Sakamaki household’s version of tamagogake-gohan!”

*Thud*

“Well then, here you go. Please dig in while it is hot.”

You take a bite.

“How is it?”

You tell him that it’s delicious.

“Why of course. It is a dish which was carefully crafted to bring out all of the aromas, flavors and textures to their fullest after all. The rich eggs and the deep flavor of the soy sauce go perfectly with the fluffy rice. However, right when you think that it might be a little blend and one-toned, the cod roe, seaweed and yuzu salt kick to add a new flavor profile so you never get tired of eating it.

This is how tamagogake-gohan should be. Do you comprehend?”

You nod.

“Pleasing your palate is child’s play. ...Well then, usually I would go wake up the others around this hour, but I suppose we can postpone it a little for today.”

You ask Reiji if he will have breakfast as well.

“Yes, I figured this was a fine opportunity for me to enjoy a meal alongside you. You could say this is my award for all the hard work I put in. You do not mind, do you?”

He joins you at the table.

“Usually there is always someone making a fuss. I rarely ever get the chance to enjoy a meal in peace. In that regard, perhaps I should be grateful to you. However, make sure to warn me before you get peckish, okay?”

You nod.

“Very well. Let us dig in then.”

*Cling*

“...Mm. I suppose having a meal together with just the two of us like this is quite enjoyable every now and then.”

ーー THE END ーー

Translation notes

(1) Raw eggs are commonly consumed in Japan since the country has no history of salmonella being found in eggs. By cracking the egg on top of steaming-hot rice and instantly mixing it together, the heat from the rice will also slightly cook the egg, so it’s not 100% raw when you eat it. Still, the consistency of the dish is quite ‘goopy’ - for lack of a better word - so I understand why a lot of people (myself included) would not find it very appetizing. :p

#diabolik lovers #dialovers #reiji sakamaki #diabolik lovers zero #diabolik lovers translation #diabolik lovers drama cd #drama cd

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flowersandbigteeth · 5 months

Text

Meeting your Changeling BF: Part 5

General Plot: You are on your way to Leotolas when you get a surprise visitor.

Word Count: 4k

Changeling (Clark) x f flower nymph reader

TW: Yandere behavior, Murder, light mind control, mentions of domestic violence

Find other parts here

The next day Clark informed you you’d only made it halfway to your destination. The two of you stopped at an inn to spend the night. It was small and quaint with a plump orc that cooked the meals.

You were happy to stretch your legs. The bite Clark had given you was on its way to healing and you hardly felt it.

"Back again, I see. And this time with a little wife," the orc said, sweetly to Clark, glancing at you as he set down a plate.

"You've been here before?" you asked him and he smiled.

"Yes, I studied in Leotolas. That's where the school is," he said. "I always intended to come back with-."

He paused and looked down, his eyes dead before he drew up another smile for you.

"No matter what I'd planned," he laughed. "You'll love it."

"He's not lying!" the orc laughed, winking. "Leotolas is lovely. The diamond, they call it. Better rest up. There's lots to see!"

Clark tipped his head at him, the mood light.

"I'm going to go to the bathroom," you said as nature was calling and the orc pointed to a small hallway.

"Don't dawdle," Clark said over his shoulder before returning to his conversation with the friendly orc.

Making your way to the bathroom, you did your business and had your hand on the door when it opened in front of you.

"Neia!" you gasped at the orc you'd met in the village. "What are you doing here?"

She shouldered her way into the bathroom.

"Looking for you!" she barked. "You need to come back to the village!"

You narrowed your eyes at her.

"Why?" you snapped. "I know you miss your friend, but I don't know you."

Her eyes widened.

"You don't know him!" she said. "He's dangerous and a liar!"

"I'm so tired of hearing that!" You snarled. "He's not bad just because he's a changeling!"

"He's bad because he's kidnapped you," she said. "He took you from your world and trapped you here and you're following him around like a puppy."

"He did not!" You argued. "(Y/N) did that herself. She was unhappy and I can see why. Where were you when that monster I met was beating her? Who needs friends like you?"

"What?" she gasped. "Harri would never lay a hand on her. He loves her. He loves you!"

"Well she obviously didn't love him," you hissed. "and neither do I. Leave us alone. Mourn your friend and move on. I am not her and I don't owe you my time or affection."

There was a knock on the door and your heart skipped at the voice you heard.

"What's taking so long?" Harri asked.

Neia winced and the frightening man stuffed himself into the small bathroom with the two of you.

"How could you?" you hissed at Neia. "Did you think I'd come with you back to that horrible village? Clark told me how you tormented him! You're terrible people!"

Harri frowned at you, his blue eyes large and hurt.

"Did he tell you why (Y/N) chose me?" he asked. "or did he conveniently skip that story?"

"(Y/N) was troubled," you barked back, mimicking Clark’s words.

"Because he played with her emotions," he snarled. "Clark attacked me. He almost killed me and (Y/N) saw first hand how dangerous he is. Yes, she was stuck to him when she was a baby, but he broke her trust. He lashed out in a fit of jealousy! He wouldn't let her go! He wouldn't let her choose! (Y/N) was loved by the town and he couldn't tolerate it. He wanted her to only love him. Only acknowledge him."

"I don't care," you said. "Why should I trust the man who tossed me into a stove? Is that your version of love?"

"But I didn't (Y/N)," he insisted. "I came home and you were gone and I knew Clark had to have something to do with it. I didn't see you until Clark walked you to the carriage. It wasn't me that hurt you, I swear. The man is a changeling. How can you trust him?"

"You're a liar," you said. "Clark would never hurt me and I'm not coming back with you. I want to live my life not the other woman's! If Clark truly loved her he wouldn't send her to another dimension. Your story doesn't make sense."

His eyes narrowed and he grimaced.

"I won't let you!" he growled, grabbing your wrist painfully and jerking it to him. “You belong to me! You chose me, not him!”

You peered up at him, your spine straight.

"That!" you said, jerking your finger at him. "That's the real you! You see Neia? Maybe it wasn't Clark who lied to you!"

"It's more complicated than that," she stammered.

You turned on her, furious.

"It's not." you insisted.

"But, the village needs you," she said. "Our crops will fail! The wells will dry. You must return!"

You felt something bubbling below the surface of your skin. You felt the rage the other nymphs spoke of. They wanted to control you. They wanted to use you. They wanted to sever your connection to your anchor.

"Her eyes," Neia gasped, but you heard it very far away.

Something in your brain was screaming GROW. GROW. GROW. There was a tingle in your scalp and the pretty delicate jasmine in your hair grew thorns.

These outsiders are a plague, someone said. A woman's voice, light as a butterfly. The outsiders only ruin this world. Purify them. Send them to the land. The soil is thirsty for their blood. Spread the brambles. Spread the old wood.

"I am the old wood!" you howled to the magic coursing through you.

The room became a tangle of brambles and thorns. Neia tried to make for the door but it was too late. Harri went for his sword, but the space was too small. Your brambles wrapped his neck, his arms, the thorns giving him a thousand deep cuts and you squeezed.

"(Y/N)! No this isn't you!" she cried, begging for her life.

"You. Don't. Know. Me." you said in a voice you'd never heard before.

"(Y/N)! (Y/N)! Open the bloody door!" you heard Clark screaming.

There was a crack and then he was digging through your brambles to get to you. The scent of his blood, brought you to your senses.

You blinked. The brambles began to recede and your eyes cleared. Harri's lifeless body fell to the floor.

"Clark?" you whimpered, your eyes filling with tears when you saw the many little cuts on his skin.

Neia scrambled to her feet, but Clark grabbed her in his claws.

"If you make this a problem you'll regret it. Go home and tell them Harri ran off," he snarled. "Pray I never see you again!"

She nodded, taking one last horrified look at Harri before she ran.

Clark wrapped you in his arms as you sobbed.

"I didn't mean to…" you gasped.

"It's okay, my love," he hummed, pressing you into his chest. "You did the right thing."

"I did?" you whined. He met your eyes with his, warm and cherry red.

"Yes," he said. "You stood up to him. The other you had no spine. She let him do what he liked with her…but you…you are different. You are better."

"What do we do with the body?" you asked and he smirked.

With a snap of his finger, Harri's body dissolved in black flame.

"See? Simple, love," he said. "It's as if he were never here."

"Except the door," you nodded to the scraps of wood lying in splinters in the hall.

"A few gold coins and the proprietor will forgive us," he assured you. "Let's return to your dinner. You need to eat."

He kissed your head and carried you out of the bathroom.

You were still shaking, but after a few bites of food and a warm smile from Clark, you felt yourself relax. He brushed your cheek with his thumb.

"You truly are wonderful, (Y/N)," he said.

Instead of staying the night, he gave the orc a few gold coins as he'd promised and put you back in the carriage.

"We'll leave the bad memory behind," he said as the carriage carried you into the night. "we won't stop there again. You don't need to see his face in your mind."

Like an eraser rubbing it away, the memory was gone. You knew what you did. You could call up the thick scent of blood, but there was no image. You couldn't remember what Harri even looked like. It was odd, yes, but it wasn't something you wanted to remember so you let it disappear.

Instead you laid your head on Clark's lap and let the clopping of horse hooves put you to sleep.

—

"Wake up, my love," Clark said and you lifted your head. "We've arrived."

You yawned.

"Did you sleep?" you asked, rubbing your eyes.

He smiled at you, his irises back to smokey gray.

"I watched you, sweetling," he said. "I can't seem to take my eyes off of you."

He turned his attention to the city and you caught a glimpse of it for the first time.

"It is like a diamond!" you gasped.

"Put on your coat," he said, helping your arms through the sleeves.

You could see your breath in a puff in front of you. The countryside was covered in glistening white snow, but tucked in the center of the hills of powder was a massive faceted dome. It glittered like the ring on your finger.

"Are we going inside?" you asked eagerly, making Clark laugh.

"Yes, the city is inside," he said, running a hand over your head. "This is a mage's city. You'll be safe here. Most people aren't allowed except for a few hours to shop. No more surprise visits."

"Do we have a visa?" you asked.

"I am a trained mage and you are my wife. No doors will be closed to you," he said.

Clark laughed at the little O your mouth made, in shock.

"Come," he said, helping you out of the carriage. "Our luggage will be delivered."

There was a short line of visitors at the guard station.

"You've brought us a little nature spirit," the guard said, smiling at you while he stamped your book. "The goddess's blessing."

Clark snorted at his interest, putting his body between the two of you.

"Welcome to Leotolas," he laughed as you passed through the gate.

The city lay out before you. It was much warmer inside. Flowers bloomed on trellises. People lounged in small parks.

"Now for your surprise!" Clark said, winking.

He hurried you down the streets, though you couldn't help gawking. Elaborate fountains spat water and statues moved on their own. The streets were paved with shining white marble. It was like nothing you'd seen before. There was a giant glowing sphere that hovered above it all like a sun.

"Close your eyes," Clark insisted, placing his hand over them.

You heard a door open and then your footsteps echoed on wood.

"This is our home, love," he said, removing his hand.

"It's beautiful!" you beamed.

It truly was lovely. It wasn't like the cold stone of Clark's castle in the village. He pulled you through the rooms, naming each one. There were warm wood floors throughout, airy furniture surrounded by lots of pretty potted plants.

"There's a garden in the back," he said. "I only cleared it out. I thought you might want to work it how you like, but…this is the most important room."

He tugged you in a small room painted sunny yellow.

"It's a nursery," you said, running a finger over the cradle for the baby.

He grinned at you, tipping your face up to his.

"We don't have to start right away," he said. "But I wanted you to know my intentions. I want to grow our family."

You giggled.

"Maybe we'll need another," you joked and he folded himself down to kiss you. He took one hand, putting the other on the small of your back to swing you around in a silent dance.

"I think this is the happiest day of my life," he sang, twirling you under his arm. "My little sprout is planted where she belongs. Under the golden eye of the mage's sun."

You heard a knock on the door and Clark frowned.

"I wasn't expecting any visitors," he grumbled that he had to let you go.

You followed him to the first floor, peeking curiously around his body. When he opened the door a naga slithered inside. His scales flashed like coins and his long hair looked like spun gold. He wore a white sash across his bare chest. Green eyes peered back around Clark to look at you.

"Greetings master," Clark said, tightly. "I did not expect your visit so soon. (Y/N) allow me to introduce my teacher, Hassan."

"Well met nymph," he said, examining you, closely.

His eyes glowed with some inner magic, the slitted pupils expanding and contracting.

"Tell me, Clark. How did you tame a spirit of the old wood?" he asked. "Usually they're either dancing naked under the stars or plotting civilizations downfall."

You didn't particularly like the implication that he "tamed" you.

"Clark is my husband," you said, lifting your nose. "I am not an animal to be tamed. We are in love."

Clark's eyes widened at you and his mouth fell open.

"(Y/N)!" he gasped, his cheeks and the tips of his ears darkening.

The naga let out a deep chuckle.

"You will fit right in, little one," he said, glancing at Clark with a smirk.

Suddenly the world went blurry and there was a deep voice in your head.

Welcome to our universe, traveler.

It took you a moment to realize the naga was speaking in your mind.

You know I'm not from here? you asked.

I can see your aura. It still carries the scent of your home… Any mage can sense this…Though few mages can see you've touched the old wood. You've heard the voice of the whisperer for the first time.

The vision of Harri's broken body flashed in front of you.

You did well to defeat your enemy.

Are you my enemy? you asked.

I do not wish to be. Your presence under the mage's golden eye can be a blessing.

Or? you asked, feeling there was something else.

Or you can bring our ruin. Clark… plays with dangerous magic he does not truly understand.

Is that a problem? you questioned.

Clark has had a hard life…and I do wish the two of you happiness. You will find here that things are rarely black and white. Please remember that.

The world suddenly cleared again and the naga looked at Clark.

"I expect you at the Mage's Chamber in the morning. Since you've returned, you have duties," he said.

"Of course, master," Clark said, nodding.

"Good day, nymph. I look forward to speaking again. When you're ready."

He slithered out the front door and it closed by itself behind him. Clark let out a breath and a dry laugh.

"Master Hassan seems scary, but he's brilliant," he said. "He's the senior mage. The most powerful and the oldest."

You frowned after him, puzzled by his words.

Clark's brow drew, but not for the right reason.

"Does he bother you? I promise he's harmless…well…he'd never harm you," he said. "Like the nature spirits, we mages like to keep to our own. Outsiders often have bad intentions and would use our skill for misdeeds."

You shook your head, forcing a smile to your lips.

"No, he doesn't bother me, but you know I get tired meeting people," you said, taking his hand. "Let's enjoy the day before you have to go to work tomorrow."

He grinned.

"Time to look at the garden," he said, tugging you out of the French doors. "If you want anything you can go to the shops while I'm at the Mage's Chamber tomorrow. I've got boatloads of gold for you to spend. You can redecorate the whole house if you wish."

The two of you wandered into the garden where empty flower beds and planters were scattered around.

“You know (Y/N),�� he murmured and you glanced back at him, seeing the tips of his ears were pink. “I am in love with you, too.”

You gave him a bright smile and tipped up on your toes to peck his lips.

That night, you slept next to Clark in your bed for the first time. You ought to have slept soundly, safe under the mage’s dome, but you were plagued with dreams.

You found yourself in a room, looking at the mirror.

“Hello,” the woman in the mirror said. “We’re connected you and I.”

“You’re the other (Y/N), aren’t you?” you gasped.

She laughed, a tinkling sound.

“Well met,” she said and peered around you as if she were looking over your shoulder. “Ah…you’re with Clark. He must be pleased.”

You looked behind you, but there was nothing but black void.

“Everyone misses you,” you said and she frowned.

“I’m sure they do,” she sighed.

“You don’t miss them?” you asked and she looked far away for a moment.

“That world…is a cruel place,” she murmured. “I quite like yours.”

“You do?” you asked. “It’s dirty and loud. People are just as cruel.”

She shrugged.

“You’re friends are nice,” she said. “Not like mine…and my head…is much quieter here. The whisperer can’t reach me…”

“So it’s true,” you asked. “You sent yourself there?”

She gave you a long look, as if she was considering something.

“It doesn’t matter how I arrived. It only matters that this is where I belong,” she told you, which was utterly confusing.

“You don’t want to trade back?” you asked.

“I wouldn’t even if I could,” she said and then she laughed again. “I like movies and driving! Cars are incredible!”

You frowned at her.

“I killed your boyfriend,” you said, figuring you ought to tell the truth about that. “How could you be with someone so abusive?”

Her mouth formed a thin line, but she didn’t cry or yell.

“Your choices in that world are your own,” she said. “I’ve left that all behind.”

“How…why are we speaking this way?” you asked and she reached a hand through the glass, touching your cheek.

“Our aura’s may overlap from time to time,” she said. “I chose to approach you because…maybe I was a bit curious how things were going. Also, I wished to warn you.”

“About Clark?” you said, a little offended. “I’m tired of hearing-”

She cut you off with a laugh.

“He’s had a hard life…” she said, thoughtfully. “If he is happy, then I wont interfere. No, I’m warning you of the old wood. The whisperer who will torment you the longer you stay in that world.”

“Torment me?” you asked. “I don’t understand.”

She twisted her lip.

“You couldn’t,” she said. “Nymphs live in the old wood because they are called to be there. Clark…disrupted the way of things when he took me. That event has consequences…but…there have been nymphs in the past that left the old wood and thrived…not many. Just be careful. Don’t let the whisperer pull you away from your purpose.”

“Who is the whisperer?’ you asked. “A goddess?”

“It’s hard to describe what she is,” she said. “The closest I can get is that she is the voice of the old wood. She believes we nymphs are her army. The godess created her to grow, but she proved too wild to be allowed to run free.

For now, and for many centuries that world has hung in a delicate balance. At the edges of the old wood, the outsiders have forged their society. They need growth to build their cities, their villages, their kingdoms. Too far from her influence the land turns to barren desert. The whisperer does not need the outsiders, but they need her. She only wishes to grow and grow until there is nothing but her wilds and her children.”

“I met some other nymphs who seemed to believe the same,” you explained and she nodded.

“You may yet meet more,” she said. “Had you enjoyed the freedom of the wild as you grew, you would have felt the same. The whisperer tormented me for refusing to return. For mingling with the outsiders. For helping them cut rocks from the mountains and sow seeds in straight lines.”

“Does Clark know any of this?” you asked and she shook her head.

“Clark will not understand. If you tell him he will become obsessed with fixing it for you. He has always been that way. You ought to keep this to yourself if you want to protect him. He can’t tame the old wood, but he is arrogant enough to try…for you.”

“Then what should I do?” you asked and she gave you a smirk, shrugging.

“That’s up to you,” she said. “I do not envy you.”

From far away you heard Clark’s voice.

“(Y/N), wake up,” he said.

“It’s time for me to go,” the other (Y/N) hummed. “Good luck to you.”

“Wait I have more-” you started to say, but the dream dissolved and your eyes opened.

“You were talking in your sleep,” Clark said and you blinked at him.

“Um…yes,” you sighed. “I had a dream…about- about- I can’t remember.”

He narrowed his eyes for a moment and then kissed you on the forehead.

“Get ready,” he said. “I want to make you breakfast before I have to leave.”

You gave him a small smile and rolled out of bed, headed for the bathroom. While you brushed your teeth, you considered what the other you had said. You knew the whisperer, the voice in your head that wrapped itself around your fear and anger like a warm blanket. She wanted you to grow and grow until the outsiders were nothing.

The other you was happy where she was. It seemed to you that she must have sent herself there and didn’t want to admit it. Perhaps she felt guilty for stealing your life from you, sending you to one she obviously disdained. But you were not as happy as she appeared to be in that world. The grind of life had broken you down. You felt distant from your friends and didn’t have the time or energy for love. This felt like a new start and you thought you ought to take it.

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 3 months

Text

From One Master to Another

Part 1 (ft. Riddle and Silver) I Part 2 (ft. Trey and Kalim) I Part 3 (ft. Jade and Lilia) I Part 4 (ft. Deuce and Jamil) I Part 5 (ft. Malleus and Ruggie) | Part 6 (ft. Cater and Rook) | Part 7 (ft. Sebek and Floyd) | Part 8 (ft. Ace and Idia) | Part 9 (ft. Leona and Epel)

In which Gordon Ramsay-kun is isekai’d into Twisted Wonderland. Part Food Wars, part Hell’s Kitchen, all Master Chef—Night Raven College isn’t ready to take on this Michelin Star celebrity!!

Gordon Ramsay isn't a classically trained pastry chef; he knows the savory, not the sweet. This time, the coursework involves instruction in desserts--and he'll find that he has just as much to learn as his students, Vil and Jack, do. I conducted a lot of research for this installment (reading articles on how to ice cakes + the science behind macarons, and, of course, watching videos where GR gets humbled and learns from fellow culinary masters). It provided me with a fresh perspective to write from~

Imagine this...

"... Jack."

"Yes, Vil-senpai?"

"What exactly am I looking at?"

Several countertops were covered in baking trays. Sugar circles sat upon waxy sheets, some collapsed and thinned out like wafers, others risen then caved in and cracked. It was an array of imperfections spanning the muted colors of the rainbow.

Jack clasped his hands behind his back, and tried to ignore the uncomfortable urge to itch the ears tucked under his hat, or to tear away the tangle of hair net containing his tail. His chef's jacket seemed to be straining to contain the entire bulk of him.

"Macarons," Jack reported.

Vil lifted a brow.

"... Er, at least they're supposed to be macarons," his underclassman awkwardly clarified.

Vil granted him a look of sympathy. "The poor things."

"W-Well, how did you do with your assignment?!" Jack stammered, eager to shift the subject. He glanced to Vil's table.

Lips pursed.

The model had gone with a light wash of makeup, simply a neutral brown gradient on his lids. His hair was arranged in a tight, tidy bun, flaxen bangs pinned back. Vil presented almost as flawless as a mirror's face—but certainly his cake didn't.

It was two layers tall (Jack had watched him saw and shape them earlier), stacked upon each other with a layer of buttercream sandwiched between them. The cake was starting to slope, as if in a desperate attempt to crawl to the exit. A coat of uneven chocolate frosting had hardened, forming odd peaks and lumps in a crust.

“That’s pretty rough.” Vil bristled at the words—sparse, yet biting. Jack continued. “How many cakes does this make, four?”

The question, unintentional needling.

“Seven,” Vil begrudgingly corrected him. Then, a small smirk formed. “And yourself? How many batches of macarons does this make?”

“Urk…!” Jack’s ears flattened, his bushy tail limp. “I guess we could both use more practice…”

“Jesus.”

The curse was spoken in a hissing whisper, emerging from neither from Vil nor Jack. It came from their teacher, an older man with weathered features—the result of wisdom and stress. He had been perched off to the side, observing his students’ skills in action, his frown seemingly ever extending as the mistakes piled up.

“Right then, maybe this isn’t working out,” Gordon Ramsay muttered, his eyes passing over a macaron graveyard and the crumbling cake mountains.

Not for lack of trying.

“Chef!” Jack immediately stood at attention. “We did our best to follow your instructions.”

“As you can see, the results were not particularly fruitful,” Vil chimed in. “We could do with additional instruction.”

Gordon startled, gaping at them. “Wait, you two want me to teach you more? You’re willing to listen?”

“Yessir!! Please guide us.”

“It’s as Jack says. We are here to learn and to enhance our culinary skillsets. We shouldn’t dawdle.” Vil narrowed his eyes. “Why do you act so surprised?”

“Can’t say this has happened very often.” Gordon stroked his chin thoughtfully. “The last time I had a pair of students this cooperative was months ago.”

“Just what exactly have the other Culinary Crucibles students put you through?” Vil angrily planted his hands on his hips. “Were Epel and Rook being disrespectful?"

Jack hesitated not wishing to speak ill of his Savanaclaw seniors. Still, it was easy for his mind to conjure the image of Ruggie swiping leftovers when no one was looking—“Free food is free food!”—and Leona yawning, mentally checked out of the situation.

"It's not hard to imagine," Jack confessed.

"They'll be getting an earful from me later!"

"Hmph, kids will be kids. I've dealt with cocky adults double their age or older acting like bigger babies. What's important is that they walked out of my kitchen better than when they first walked in."

Gordon leaned against a counter and folded his arms. Air escaped through his teeth. “Boys, I’ll be straight with you. Sweets, baking—it isn’t my specialty. I could try and teach you all bloody day and we'd still get nowhere."

“Are you serious?” Jack frowned. “So that means…”

"What I've already shown you is all I've picked up from experts back home. We've hit the ceiling."

“This can’t be!” Vil reeled, looking vaguely appalled. “If it’s come to this, then how will we possibly improve our craft?"

"I don't know."

I've never been in a kitchen where I haven't been in control.

"This is a fucking mess," Gordon groaned. I've failed my students.

“What’s with all the doom and gloom?”

Gordon bolted upright at the sudden voice.

A plump ghost manifested, suited up in a chef's jacket and hat. His face was as puffy as a marshmallows, and his belly shaking like a bowl full of jelly.

The head chef at Night Raven College.

"You fellas look like you've seen a ghost," he joked. "But never mind that. I noticed you’ve been standing around and being sad for a while now.”

“Right, that—” Gordon exchanged an anxious look with his students. He fumbled for an explanation, but didn’t have to.

“Oh my! Did you make these?” the ghost chef indicated the macarons and cakes. They were hard to miss. “Brave of you to start off with such finicky things. All in all, they’re not bad attempts."

"They're not?"

The ghost chuckled. “Of course not. How many times do you think a pastry chef muddles macarons or ices a cake incorrectly before it’s passable? It’s one part skill, one part practice, and one part learning as you go. Here, let me show you some tips and tricks I picked up myself.”

Vil, Jack—and even Gordon himself—watched in silent awe as the ghost chef went about his work.

Ingredients were effortlessly measured and sifter into a bowl (“Keeps it free of lumps!”), then whipped egg whites carefully folded into the batter. “You want stiff peaks for the whites, and minimum folding to get it incorporated!” Once the macarons were piped onto a sheet, the chef picked up the tray and slammed it down several times—“To scare off the air bubbles.”

The batch of macarons was slid into a waiting oven, and he started on his next task.

Into a stand mixer went several sticks of butter. The machine came to life, whipping the fats well.

“Traditional buttercream forms a crust over time,” the ghost chef explained. “That gets gritty and unpleasant! So here’s an alternate version that doesn’t crust. It’s less sweet, but still stable, easy to work with.“

He lifted a bottle and tipped its contents into the aerated butter. Transparent syrup fell in thick rivulets, and he grinned. Powdered sugar followed, visible only for seconds before it disappeared into the gathering frosting.

“The secret is light corn syrup. Using dissolved sugar instead of powdered makes the frosting smooth and stops it from hardening. Adds a fine luster to the frosting too!”

Using a spatula, he spooned the fresh buttercream into a piping bag and handed it off to Vil. “Scrape the stuff that’s on your cakes off and try again with this,” the ghost encouraged. “Should work like a dream!”

“Thank you,” Vil said, a little bewildered by the heft of the piping bag. “I will show you a beautiful dessert by yours truly.”

“Looking forward to it.”

DING!

The oven’s timer went off.

“That’s 13 minutes! Howl-kun, can you get the macarons?” called the ghost.

“Yes, Chef! I’m on it!” Jack, in a pair of heat-resistant mitts, marched to the oven and reached inside. He produced a tray of perfect pink domes, a cloud of ruffles—the macaron’s feet—at their bases. “Whoa.”

“A nice filling and they’ll be good to go. You’ve got it covered?”

“I’ll try my best.”

“Good, good. Let us know if you need any help though, alright? That’s what your teachers are here for.”

Jack nodded, then retreated to his station. While the macarons cooled, he chopped white chocolate and tossed it into a pan with heavy cream. Moments later, they had melded into a rich ganache, sweetness hanging in a heavy cloud about it. One scoop was enough for a pair of shells, lightly pressed together.

Beside his junior, Vil was hard at work redoing a cake. His stand was set spinning, a bench scraper aligned to comb and smooth out the dollops of frosting he had painted along the sides. The cake was a blank white canvas, and Vil, the artist.

Sparks in their eyes, faces bright with the glow of determination.

“Incredible,” Gordon breathed, staring after the duo. He turned back to the head chef. “You made it look so easy.”

The ghost chef laughed and contentedly patted his stomach. “I’ve had my whole life and afterlife to master the skills!”

“No kidding. You saved my ass back there.”

And more importantly, he’s actually got the kids motivated again.

“You’re the one that’s helped us out a lot, Ramsay-kun. The kitchen is so short-staffed with so many students wanting to take the Culinary Crucibles elective this year. You took some of the instruction off of our hands. This is the very least I can do to return the favor.”

The head chef smiled. “Don’t forget, you can always call on us if you ever need help.”

“That right? Then I guess you wouldn’t mind helping me out with one more thing today.”

“Mm, what’s that?”

Gordon rolled up his sleeves, a newfound fire in his expression. “Please teach me too.”

“Huh?! You want me to teach you?”

“I’m as much of a student as they are—and I’d be honored to learn from a chef of your caliber.”

“Ramsay-kun…” The ghost teared up. “Oh, how could I refuse? I’d be happy to!! Go on now, get your own station set up and we can get started immediately.”

The creases in Gordon’s face lifted. His response, hearty and joyful.

“Yes, Chef!”

Vil glanced up from his cake. “… Are my eyes and ears deceiving me?”

“They aren’t.” Jack’s brows lifted. “I’m seeing and hearing it too.”

“It’s not so shocking,” Gordon grunted. “This is a school. We’re here to learn new skills and techniques—doesn’t matter if we’re student or teacher.“

“Fufufu,” Vil chuckled to himself. “Well, aren’t you humble?”

“Heh.” Jack found himself fighting to keep down a small smile. “I can respect that. Nothing wrong with a guy lookin’ to improve himself.”

“That makes three of us.”

We’re not that different at our very cores. Stubborn fools with dreams and aspirations of achieving something greater. For ourselves, for the ones around us.

The ghost chef clapped his doughy hands. “Isn’t this so exciting, class? We’re embarking on a culinary journey together! I hope you’re ready, because I sure am!”

They replied in unison, hearts united:

“Ready when you are, Chef!”

#twst #twisted wonderland #Vil Schoenheit #Jack Howl #twst imagines #twisted wonderland imagines #twst scenarios #twisted wonderland scenarios #something no one asked for #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #Gordon Ramsay #Gordon Ramsay in Twisted Wonderland #imagine this #beyond the looking glass #twst headcanons #twisted wonderland headcanons

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strawberriesinbloom · 5 months

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Taking Lucifer Down a Peg (or Two)

MC/Lucifer

Summary: Lucifer's demon form was powerful, perfect, and poised. Was it really so bad that you wanted to see more of it?

Word Count: 2732

This fic is set in Nightbringer and based off of Mammon's NB Chapter A Devilgram. There shouldn't be too many spoilers besides the basic plot of Nightbringer (aka you're stuck in the past), and what I shared in the link.

This is a tickle fic btw

~🍓~

“I can’t believe the time,” you muttered, staring at your D.D.D. It was so late, much later than you planned to stay at the House of Lamentation. You pressed your lips together. Solomon was probably worried out of his mind.

Lucifer eyed you warily, slowing his pace down to keep up with your stride. “Yes, I apologize for keeping you here so late. I did not expect your duties to take so long.”

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes. You would have been home a lot sooner if Satan hadn’t decided to trash the entire kitchen, which set off Beelzebub, who accidentally bumped into Mammon, who–

Ugh. You were getting a headache just thinking about it.

“It's fine,” you said, “It’s not that long of a trek back to Cocytus Hall, anyway.”

“No, it's too dangerous to travel by yourself at night. You should leave in the morning.”

You snorted, following Lucifer, as he walked up the stairs and away from the front door. “Did you forget that I’ve been in the Devildom much longer than you?”

It wasn’t a lie. Technically.

Lucifer raised an eyebrow and gave you a look. “Then, consider this to be a selfish request,” he said, looking over at you with an amused glint in his eyes. “Would you consider spending the night here with me?”

Lucifer stopped in the middle of the hallway, his hand resting on the doorknob to his room. You almost bumped into him but stopped yourself just in time. He was awaiting a response from you.

“My, my, sleeping in your room? That's a bit forward, isn't it?” You asked in a teasing tone. It didn't matter if it was the past or the present: you would never pass up the chance to poke fun at Lucifer.

A bit of pink dusted his cheeks. It was subtle, but it was there. “I was thinking that you would stay in the guest room, but my room works, as well,” he said quietly.

He opened the door and stepped inside. You followed right behind him. “I think I'll sleep in your room. Your bed looks more comfortable, anyway.”

That was a lie. You knew from personal experience that his bed felt like sleeping on a brick, but those were the sacrifices you had to make to get some one-on-one time with this elusive demon.

Lucifer said, “I have a spare set of nightwear you can borrow and an unopened pack of toothbrushes you can choose from.”

“I can choose a toothbrush? Wow, I really am living the high life here.”

“Stop dawdling.”

“Alright, alright. I get it.”

Once you and Lucifer got ready for bed, you flopped down on his mattress and scooted over to the right side, shimmying underneath the covers. You sighed, nuzzling the pillow. The familiar scent of cedarwood was comforting. It was almost like you had never left your timeline.

Lucifer stared at you with his arms crossed, no doubt bewildered by how easily you had made yourself at home in his bed. You stared right back at him with a neutral expression. Finally, he blew air out of his nose in amusement before laying down next to you. Lucifer picked up a large book on his bedside table and opened it up to where he had placed his plain blue bookmark. He began reading.

You turned over so that you were facing Lucifer. “What’s that book about?”

A conflicted, almost sullen look crossed Lucifer’s face for a brief moment. “Oh, this?” In an out-of-character moment, he hesitated. “It's about an angel falling in love with a human. It's fiction, simply a bit of light reading before bed,” he said.

You snickered. “Light?” That thing was huge.

“Yes, light.”

“You know, that reminds me.” You sat up in bed, tossing the covers away from you. “Mammon told me once that angels could take off their wings. Is that true?”

“It is but not in the way you're thinking.” He thumbed the page he was on but hadn't committed to turning it completely. “Angels can choose to hide or show their wings similar to how demons can choose to hide or show their demonic characteristics. It’s their version of our demon forms if you will.”

“Oh, that’s interesting.”

Lucifer hummed, going back to reading his novel.

You fiddled with the corner of the comforter. “Mammon also told me that you used to have twelve wings when you were an angel, but he never got to see them.”

Lucifer didn't respond, choosing to focus on his book. He turned the page and let out a small huff of laughter at whatever he had read. Was he ignoring you on purpose?

You narrowed your eyes and crossed your arms in front of your chest. “Mammon said something else that piqued my interest. He mentioned that he thought tickling you might have made the rest of them pop out,” you said.

Lucifer glared at you as though you were a rotten banana peel he found on the ground. His nose wrinkled in irritation. “Don't you dare.” His knuckles tightened against the book he was holding.

“It's too bad Mammon can't test out his theory, anymore, but since you told me that demon and angel forms are similar to each other…” You trailed off, allowing your hand to do the talking. You wiggled your fingers and slowly reached out toward his stomach.

Lucifer grabbed your wrist, gripping it a tad harder than was honestly necessary. You tried not to wince in pain. He was holding his book in one hand now, and you noticed that it was shaking slightly in his hold. His nostrils were flared, and a terrifying look swam in his reddish-gray eyes.

It was cute seeing Lucifer panic like that. It was a rare but not an unwelcome sight, that was for certain. He was desperately trying to regain control of the situation. Too bad you had to ruin that.

“If you try to lay a single finger on me, I'll–”

Lucifer interrupted himself with a sharp gasp when you used your other hand to dig into the soft part of his thigh. He jerked his leg up, letting go of both your wrist and his book, which tumbled all of the way to the floor.

“Oops, sorry,” you chuckled. You used this opportunity to spider all ten of your fingers along his sides.

He tried to grab your wrists again, but you, expecting this, immediately pivoted to tickle his thighs, again. Lucifer wriggled under your grip. His cheeks turned a bright red, as he tried to suppress his laughter. Admittedly, he was doing a good job. You probably wouldn’t have realized the tickling was getting to him if it wasn’t for the fact that he was acting like he was being electrocuted.

Lucifer choked out, “Stop that!” He grabbed your shoulders and pushed you back. You fell over with only a small blow to your ego. Lucifer tried to get out of his bed, but you played dirty. Very dirty.

“Stay!” you shouted, using your pact powers on him.

A surge of magic flew through the air, as Lucifer flopped down on his back. He tried to get up, but you were quickly at his side. You wiggled your fingers against his ribs, taking the time to silently count every single one.

Lucifer kicked his legs out. His face was contorted into a grimace, but if you looked close enough, you could see the hint of a smile across his lips. You were so close to breaking him. Lucifer weakly grabbed your upper arm, but your pact prevented him from doing much else.

“Sorry for using my powers on you,” you said, “but I really wanted to see if Mammon was right. I want to tickle you until your demon form pops out. You’ll forgive me for that, right?” After all, wasn’t it better to beg for forgiveness than ask for permission?

Lucifer opened his mouth to retort but immediately clamped his mouth shut. You could tell he was afraid of bursting out into laughter. A loud huff of air moved past his lips, causing him to press them together.

You moved to claw at his stomach.

Lucifer jumped and squeaked.

You paused, staring at him with awe. He looked at you with a pained expression.

“I can’t believe I made that sound,” he said helplessly.

“I can.”

You started tickling him again, focusing on that one sensitive spot near his belly button that had made him squeak. Lucifer writhed under your touch. He tried grabbing at your arms and wrists again but with much more desperation this time. You slipped your hands underneath his shirt, drilling your thumbs into the divots just above his hips. His skin was deliciously warm, and you couldn't help but linger in that one spot.

“HAHAHA!” Lucifer suddenly burst out into loud, frantic cackles. “DAHAHAMMIT!” His smile was wide, despite how hard he was trying to force it back down into a frown. If you looked close enough, you could see what appeared to be tiny fangs where his incisors would be. Were those always there, or was it a sign?

“You have a nice laugh, Lucifer,” you said, continuing to tickle that same spot. It seemed to be particularly bad for him, which meant that you were obligated to torture him there.

Lucifer managed to whack your shoulder. It only stung a little. “Shuhut uhuhuh–UHUP” The poor guy couldn't even get more than a few words in due to how hard he was laughing. He tossed his head back and continued to cackle. You pinched at his hips. He seized your wrists, trying to pull them off, but he couldn't. “AHA! NOHOT THEHEHERE!”

You shrugged. Lucifer seemed to be at his limit already, so you decided to be a little merciful. Slipping your hands out from underneath his shirt, you began to dig your fingers into his armpits. Lucifer dissolved into soft, almost (but not quite) hiccupy giggles.

“Ehehehehe…” Lucifer squeezed his eyes shut and jerked his head away. He bit his bottom lip to stop himself from laughing. It worked for a couple of seconds until you started to gently scratch at the area right below his underarms. “Ahaha! I'm going to–I’m going ehehehe to gehehet you for thihihis.” He looked angry, at least, as angry as he could have with an adorable smile and rosy cheeks offsetting his furrowed eyebrows.

“I’d like to see you try.”

That was the wrong thing to say because Lucifer managed to land a strong kick straight to your stomach. You doubled over, the air whooshing out of you. Yep, you deserved that for getting so cocky around a demon. Lucifer flipped himself over on his hands and knees to try to get away from you.

That was right. You were in the past now. The pact bond between you and Lucifer was weaker, and thus, less effective. Huh. Thankfully, you had some old-fashioned tricks up your sleeve.

You sat on the small of his back.

“What are you doing?” Lucifer growled, trying to buck you off.

You grinned. “I think you know.” You squeezed his sides and dragged your nails up and down his terribly sensitive skin. It was a little embarrassing for a demon of his caliber to be this ticklish, but you didn't tell him that.

Lucifer swore under his breath. “Stohohop or else!” He was trying to knock you off, again, but you planted yourself firmly on top of him.

“I'd like you to stay right there, Lucifer,” you said, using your pact on him, again.

He stilled, no longer trying to push you off of him. You smiled and took this opportunity to really get under his skin. You tickled him along his torso and wherever your fingers could reach, taking the time to focus on his most sensitive spots.

Lucifer pressed his face against the mattress in an attempt to muffle his loud laughter. “You b–behehetter behe ehehe prepared for your puhuhuhunishment! Ahaha! HahahAHAha!” He shrieked when you managed to suddenly spider your fingertips along the sides of his neck. He scrunched his shoulders up, but that didn't stop you from trying to draw that sound out from him, again.

You chose to ignore him and pretended to peer at the top of his head. “Ooh, are those horns I see? I think it's working! I can see your demon form emerging.” You were just kidding, of course, but the urge to tease Lucifer never stops.

“Stop lying!” Lucifer managed to grunt out in between fits of pure laughter. You had never seen him laugh this much before, not even in the present. It was nice seeing this side of him. You supposed that the main difference between Lucifer from the past and Lucifer from the present was that your Lucifer was better at hiding his reactions. This one hadn't quite mastered that skill, yet.

“I don't think I am,” you said. You started to tickle his hips, again. That was your favorite spot because of the reactions you’d get from him whenever you teased him there.

Lucifer clawed at the area in front of him, balling up fistfuls of the comforter in his hands at a time. A part of you wanted to hear him beg, but you knew he was too prideful to do something like that.

He cackled and pounded the mattress with his fist. “AHAHA! Stop! Stohop ihit now!” His commanding presence was muddled by how cute and giggly he was being. Lucifer wriggled and twisted in place, desperate to get you to stop tickling him. His entire body twitched with each new touch.

“Aw, but I haven't even–ugh!”

Something hit you square in the jaw. Stars clouded your vision, as you tumbled backward. You almost fell off of Lucifer’s bed, but you managed to catch yourself just in time. You propped yourself on one elbow and rubbed the underside of your stinging face. Yeah, that was going to leave a nasty bruise later. You were pretty sure you accidentally bit your tongue, too.

Wait. There was something weird inside of your mouth. Ew! You spat it out into your hand and tried not to gag. Opening your eyes, you saw that it was…a black feather? You inspected it further. Yep, that was what it was. Where did it come from?

You looked up and saw Lucifer. He had managed to sit up on his knees and was scowling at you. The diamond on his forehead looked oddly menacing in the dim lighting of his bedroom. His flowy black and red outfit was draped over his body, trailing along the bed. His horns, black as night, twisted up from his head, pointing up toward the ceiling. Lucifer’s two sets of wings flapped angrily, sending a small gust of wind your way.

He was in his demon form.

Lucifer was in his demon form.

Mammon was right.

You were able to tickle Lucifer until his demon form popped out.

Wow.

As much as you wanted to celebrate this achievement, you weren’t able to, considering the death glare Lucifer was giving you. His breathing was ragged and his face was still cherry red, but that didn't change how menacing Lucifer could be when he was in his demon form.

“Congratulations. You were right. I hope you're proud of yourself,” Lucifer said. His voice was a low growl. The smirk he was giving you sent shivers up your spine. He tugged on his gloves like he was preparing for something.

“I am, actually,” you muttered, slowly crawling backward. Maybe if you made a run for it, you could make it to the door…

Lucifer shook his head. “Always so cocky, despite knowing exactly what I'm going to do to you.”

“And that would be?”

“I'm going to tickle you until you're begging for mercy. Do you think you could handle that?” Lucifer stepped up close to you, subtly blocking off your exit.

You smiled at him, as sweetly as you could. “I seriously doubt you could lay a hand on me.”

Lucifer raised an eyebrow. “Is that a challenge?”

“Maybe.”

The fury on Lucifer’s face washed away, as he started to snicker. He shook his head in exasperation and pressed his fingers against his temples. “You always know how to push my buttons.”

That, you did.

#Obey Me Tickling #Ticklish!Lucifer #Tickler!Reader #Tickle Fic

113 notes · View notes

din-miller · 1 year

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Dress For The Job

Pairing: Din Djarin x gn!reader

Word count: 1.6k

Summary: You're used as bait during a mission on Nevarro. Din isn't pleased with the situation

Warnings: angst mixed with a good amount of fluff, gender neutral reader but reader wears a dress, married couple, hardcore flirting, badass reader, his first name is Din, canon-typical violence, implications to sexy times.

Nevarro's typically mellow near midday, more accustomed to the elderly citizens dawdling through the markets, reminiscing on their younger years as the wind blows a faint breeze and the local bakeries flood the marketplace with their fresh aromas.

According to Greef, pirates have been stealing from the marketplace, breaking into people's homes and ransacking them. There have been three reported deaths in the last two months.

That's where you and Din come in. You've both been hired to track down any pirates and turn them in.

That was two weeks ago. When you and Din dropped off Grogu on Tatooine with Peli, you both promised to be back in a few days.

A few days, four at most.

Not two weeks.

You're definitely paying a hefty interest rate when you do pick up the kid. It's a good thing Greef is willing to pay you handsomely.

You could tell the High Magistrate was getting antsy the longer the pirates roamed Navarro. Din wasn't much better. During the days he would be tracking every lead possible, during the nights you would hold him in your arms and tell him to breathe.

You weren't much better, really. There's this frustration that's humming through your body. An anger that's boiling in your veins the longer you're away from Grogu.

Last night was the hardest night you've had in a while. Din had finally given up on his newest dead end lead and crawled into bed with you. He pulled you against his chest, which fell and raised with each unsteady breath. He missed Grogu and the cracks in his voice as he spoke had you crying into his chest, his own tears falling into your hair.

Maybe that's why you had agreed to Greef's newest plan the next morning without a second thought.

Under the hot sun, warmth seeping into your black shirt, you're definitely starting to regret saying yes. Kicking a small stone you mumbled under your breath, "Standing around waiting to get kidnapped. Not exactly the highlight of my life."

Through your earpiece Din huffed, definitely still displeased with this plan, "Just stay focused, Greef said they should be here today."

"They better be, I'm not sweating through my good shirt for nothing." You sighed, armpits already feeling sticky, "I've never been used as bait before. Am I doing a good job?"

Din doesn't answer. Which isn't a surprise. He's been ignoring you since you took Greef's side and stripped yourself bare of all weapons but one to stand in the middle of the marketplace to be discovered by a group of pirates who've already murdered three people.

Okay, putting it that way does make Din's reaction understandable. Greef had worded it better.

"Mando, it's going to be okay, I promise. Besides I'm armed and you're only a few blocks away if it goes south."

"I know, cyare, but that doesn't mean I have to be happy that my riduur decided to put themself in a dangerous position."

You want to point out that he did the same thing back on Tatooine cycles ago. Played bait for Cobb Vanth. You're not going to though, not when his breathing is heavy through the earpiece like it's taking everything in him to remember how to take in a steady breath.

You quickly glance over to where he's hidden from view a few rooftops over. You sent him a look, one that reassures him that you'll take every safe precaution available.

You're not offended by the way your husband is acting like you can't handle yourself. You both know you can, you've done it dozens of times before. It's just his nature to worry; about you, about Grogu, about his friends.

You start to lazily stroll through the marketplace, keeping yourself in Din's line of sight as much as possible.

You've kept the line open – Din doing the same on his end – and you do your best to minimise your lip movement when you speak, "I was thinking maybe after this we could relax on Sorgan for a couple weeks. That'll be nice, wouldn't it?"

"Focus."

You rolled your eyes at that, "We haven't been back there since our honeymoon, or at least our version of a honeymoon. Most couples don't normally fight off raiders during their romantic getaways."

There's a soft chuckle from Din's end, "When have we ever fit into the category of normal?"

"I still have my wedding dress," You commented, enjoying the way his breath hitched at it, "It's been a few years but I'd imagine I could still fit into it."

"Cyare."

You grinned at his warning, you know he's recalling the moment he first saw you in the dress, "Like you haven't thought about it before. We share the same bed and you occasionally mumble in your sleep."

"I do not, i- it doesn't matter, please just focus–" There's a second of silence, then your name and a string of curse words fell from his lips, "They're here."

Your chest tightened. It doesn't matter how long you've been chasing down bounties, there's always a moment of fear that settles in your bones.

"Where?"

"South entrance. Three males, all human, all armed."

Rocks crunch underneath your heel as you sharply turn to face south, "Three? Huh, I figured there would be more, I'm kind of disappointed."

"Considering it's just you down there only armed with a blade, three is too damn many."

For a second you wish you could pull him into your arms, tell him it's okay with delicate touches. You can't though, so you settled on a soft 'I love you' and tried to gain the attention of the three men.

"I'm not drawing their attention." You're getting frustrated. Eyeing the closest clothing booth, an idea sprung to life, "I need to stand out more."

Grabbing a dress to change into, you head into the small fresher. You'll pay for the dress later, right now you're on a time limit.

"What are you doing? I don't have eyes on you." Din's voice is octave higher, a clear sign that he is beginning to panic.

"I don't think I'm in much danger inside the fresher, honey."

The dress is a little complicated to put on, multiple straps that seemingly do nothing functional, but it's definitely flattering on you. It highlights curves you didn't even realise you have.

"Yeah, because pirates are known for their decency." Din grunted, eyes scanning every little crook and nanny around the small fresher, "What did you even get anyway?"

"You'll see." You smirked to yourself. You're well aware you're attractive, Din tells you often, normally followed by a little worshipping, sometimes sexual, sometimes not.

The dress has a slit which makes the knife strapped to your thigh easier to grab if needed. Which you hope it isn't, you're not in the mood for things to get bloody.

With a quick glance in the mirror, chasing away any lumps in the dress' fabric, you swiftly exited the fresher. There's shocked sputtering coming from Din's side of the comm. Your heart fluttered happily, satisfied with his reaction. Probably more than you should be, but heck it's not every day you get to dress nicely.

When Din spoke again you could tell it's through clenched teeth, "What. Are. You. Wearing?"

"Oh, this old thing? It's just something I found." You smirked, sending a wink his way before sobering up, "I have eyes on them. I'm going to get their attention and try to lead them down a back alley."

Din sighed, shifting to allow his weapon to follow your pathway, "Please be careful. I'd rather not spend the night stitching you up."

You hummed and couldn't hold back one last teasing smirk, "Is there something else you'd rather be doing tonight?"

"Don't get stabbed and you'll find out."

You blushed, cheeks burning a pretty pink colour, "I'm holding you to that, babe."

Unfortunately for you, things did end up getting bloody. Fortunately for you, you didn't end up getting stabbed.

You dropped the last guy just as Din came barreling down the alley. You have your boot pressed against the pirate's chest underneath you, not that it was necessary since he's unconscious, and your knife is sliding back into its holster with a flick of your wrist.

You beam up at your husband, hand gesturing to the three unconscious men around you, "What do you think? Not bad huh?"

Din shook his head, voice almost urgent, "Are you hurt?"

"Not a drop of blood," You reassured him as you used the man underneath you to clean off the dirt on your boot before stepping back, "Might have some fancy bruises tomorrow morning but that's expected."

With a sigh, Din started gathering the men up for Greef to come deal with, "I'll apply some Bacta when we get back to the ship. I want to be gone by nightfall, I'm afraid Peli might file for adoption papers if we're not back soon."

She wouldn't but the thought of it made you laugh, "Hey she can have split custody if that means we can take a trip to Sorgan." You bumped your hip against Din's as you pass him, "How about you wait here for Greef and I'll go return this dress."

A hand quickly wrapped around your waist stopping you from leaving and your face is suddenly inches from Din's. Your husband kept a hand around the back of your waist as the other slowly trailed up your spine.

Your breath catches, pupils blown wide. Your both not normally one for public display of affection, but the way his helmet quickly fogs over at your warm breath has you not caring.

Finally his gloved hand reaches the top of your spine and your dress is yanked back, a quiet snapping sound hits your ears. You pulled back from his embrace with a frown.

Din brought his hand around and hanging from his thumb and index finger is a small cardboard rectangular object, "You can't return things without the tag."

You can't help but snort at his antics, "That's not how that works, babe."

Din shrugged, "Maybe not, but we have roughly thirteen hours before we touch down on Tatooine and I want to see how pretty that dress is all spread out on our bed."

And fuck, you just saved their planet, at the very least they owe you a dress.

#mandalorian x reader #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian #din djarin x gender neutral reader #din djarin #Justice Joy Writes #angst and fluff #married couple #married couple | the mandalorian #the mandolorian x reader

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evilasiangenius · 3 months

Text

“Though tell me, how do I rank against those other things you love?” Crowley asked. “Say, honey cakes. Slices of roast goose. Roast duck. A lovely Attic vintage, maybe from around, oh I don’t know, Solon’s time. That one really good year, when the winter’s opening of the new wine was just perfect. I know you love those. Sappho songs?”

“You really want to know- You really want me to rank you…”

“Sure angel, why not? After all, you keep very detailed lists on your favorite vintages, your favorite plays. Tell me how I compare to the perfect warmth of a summer’s day? Or a winter night by the hearth while we’re snowed in. An old copy of the Iliad that smells like clean dust and old ink and brittle papyrus? A new copy of an old Euripides play you haven’t been able to read yet, the faint grit of sand on the pages that was left on the papyrus from the scribes drying the ink. ‘Tell me, out of all mankind, who do you love better than you love me?’”

“Crowley!” Aziraphale exclaimed. “You’re not taking this seriously, are you. Don’t be- oh, if I didn’t know any better Crowley, I’d say you are doing this just to get me to say your name.”

“Coming from you, I’d like to hear it more. It sounds good when you say it. I’m glad you know it. Oh, what if our roles were reversed and you had to live with the horrifying knowledge that I love you, what would you do then? Wouldn’t you want to know how I would rank you compared to the things I like?”

“Crowley…”

“Think of how I am feeling. Would you believe me?” Crowley turned to the angel, golden serpent eyes full of curiosity. “If I said I loved you.”

“No,” Aziraphale said simply, standing in the doorway. “I wouldn’t believe you.”

“Is it because I’m a demon?”

“No, of course not. You were an angel first and I suppose one could argue that you’re inherently an angel – just a fallen one. It’s because...it’s because of the context of this conversation. Maybe if you were to say it to me in a different context, I would believe you-”

“Just like you to blame context.” Crowley looked amused. “Well, I don’t know if I have an answer to the love thing but... But, I can tell you for a fact that of all the people I’ve met in all my time – Upstairs, Downstairs, and everywhere else – I think I like you more than anyone else. No, I definitely like you more than anyone else. You’re my favorite person, not just right now but under every circumstance. Even the impossible, infuriating ones.”

“...anyone else?” Aziraphale blinked.

“Anyone,” Crowley said drawing out the syllables for emphasis. “You’re the best, even when you have forgotten that I am starving and are dawdling about whilst I starve-”

“Oh, right. Yes, of course,” Aziraphale followed Crowley out in a dizzy daze of some happy unspoken, unspeakable emotion, leaving behind the empty rooms to cold darkness.

#good omens #crowley #aziraphale #ineffable husbands #aziraphale x crowley #mistakes were made

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starker-raving-mads · 14 days

Text

For You: Part IX

im so sorry this took so long but everyone can thank @madeforstarker for kicking me in the ass to get it done. Thank you, princess <3

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Peter didn't see Tony for three days.

This was partially his fault. His initial reaction to The Bedroom Incident, as he was calling it, was to flee the entire building, his feet scurrying him to May's apartment early the following morning. He spent a good few hours with his aunt - something he didn't actually regret, though the reason for the new time together soured it a little for him - and when she left for work he left for patrol. It was probably his longest patrol yet, capping off at 6 hours, and while it felt good to stretch his muscles and help the people of Queens, his mind constantly drifted back to The Bedroom Incident.

He couldn't face Tony after that.

And yet he couldn't not.

After weeks of living in the penthouse, it felt like home. It was the only place he felt well and truly free and comfortable, and Tony being there just made it even better. Even with the - awkwardness that now surrounded them, surely they could get over that right? It's not like he'd said Tony's name. Out loud, at least.

So, exhausted and starving, he swung by a 24/7 deli and grabbed two sandwiches. They wouldn't be as good as Mr. Delmar's but Peter was starving so he'd take what he could get. He ate one of them on the walk home in his street wear, taking his time by taking a circuitous route back to Stark Tower. It was just delaying the inevitable but Peter couldn't bring himself to speed up the awkward conversation he was no doubt gonna have once he got home.

And yet, once the elevator doors opened and revealed the penthouse, no one was there.

"Fri?" he called.

"Yes, mom?"

"Where's, uh - where's Tony at?"

"Boss has been dematerialized and operating within the bounds of his cognitive digital space, which I am unable to access. Would you like me to get him for you?" she asked, tone colored with curiosity. Peter had to wonder what she thought of the situation, but also did not want to know. He could only imagine the leaps in logic she would make that would hit too close to home.

He dawdled around the living room for a little while before heading down to the labs, half expecting Tony to be there, blue and glowing and insubstantial but present and, for lack of better words, alive.

This was not the case.

Tony was nowhere in the confines of the lab. Peter sighed and rubbed the back of his neck, slowly making his way toward the elevator. He stopped before he entered it and turned around, speaking aloud, "I, uh, I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable. I - yeah. I'll be around." He felt like an idiot speaking to an empty room but he wasn't sure what else to do.

He spent the rest of the night in the penthouse doing his online course work in silence. When he went to bed, he had Friday tell Tony just in case he wanted to know where Peter was, and then fell into a very tense and restless sleep.

The following two days were much like the first. Peter woke up, had Friday tell Tony what he was doing or where he was, visited his friends or May, patrolled, and did his online coursework. He'd come home, have Friday update Tony - not that she ever got an affirmative response - and he went to bed. He slept like shit, he felt like shit, and it was really starting to drain him.

On the fourth day, when he'd about lost his patience and his nerve, Tony finally popped into existence in the middle of the living room. It scared the hell out of him but he didn't do much more than look at the older man, dumbfounded and slightly stupefied.

"Tony?"

"Yeah, uh," the simulation ran a hand through his hair, messing it up in an impossibly cute way, "hi."

"Hi," Peter replied, lame as fuck.

They stared at each other in silence, brown eyes meeting blue ones, before Tony finally broke the tension.

"I'msorryforintrudingandseeingyoucum."

It was only Peter's enhanced senses that made the jumble of words make sense and he blushed immediately, grimacing and trying to hide it.

"It - uh, it's okay."

"It's really not, this is your place and I should give you privacy and I didn't and - " Tony paused, looking at Peter again. " - and I really should not know you have a daddy kink, kid."

"Oh god," Peter groaned, grabbing a pillow and shoving it over his face. "You heard that?"

Tony chuckled and it somehow broke the tension in the room despite the topic. "Kinda hard not to when you're all breathy and moaning. Plus," he shrugged, still grinning, "I have this kickass new memory since it all gets stored and fragmented and saved now."

"Please, please let's change topics before I pass out from blood loss," Peter begged. And, suddenly, everything felt right with the world again. This was their thing. Teasing and being teased, having fun and making jokes between all the serious stuff. It felt good, like a breath of fresh air after three very long, very lonely days.

Peter tried not to analyze what that meant for the future of his sex life.

Long and lonely, he sighed.

But, they moved topics like Peter had wanted, only to something he had not really expected.

"You what?" he asked, perplexed.

"I sent Pepper a Cease & Desist," Tony said as if it made any sense at all.

"How? Did you tell her you were - "

"Oh no, no way," the older man shook his head. "I figured neither of us were ready to pop open that can of worms. I sent it through Friday on your behalf - which," he grimaced, "I probably should've asked first, but what's done is done."

"It's fine, I guess, just - why?" That was what Peter couldn't understand. Why would Tony be sending C&Ds to his wife of all people? And on Peter's behalf no less.

"Listen, kid, I fucked up when I made my will - and before you start thinking it was about your part, it wasn't that," he cut Peter off when he saw the protest in his eyes. With a firm glare, he continued, "She had no right doing a lot of the things she did and is still doing. I had plenty of time in the last three days to think about it, analyze data, check on sources - it's amazing what having all that extra time I'd normally be sleeping can do - and I'm very unhappy with her, Pete."

"Just, why?" Peter asked again, feeling like a parrot or an NPC who had no other dialogue.

"She shouldn't have taken your blanket," the older man glared. "And she shouldn't have said what she did in that meeting room, or any of the tactics she's employed since. I know Pepper, kid, like I know the back of my hand," he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose with one hand. "That means all the good and the bad. I know that I loved her, or something like that - I must have, to have gotten married and had a kid and everything," he waved his hand like this was not a tremendous thing to be admitting. Might have loved his wife. Oh boy. "But she's taking my decisions out on you and it's not right and it's not fair."

"I don't - "

"If you say you don't mind, kid, I'm gonna figure out a way to kick your ass," Tony swore. "You matter, your persona matters to the public and the shareholders, your favorite things matter even when they're just blankets, and you matter enough to me to be able to see your own god daughter."

"I - thank you," Peter replied softly, curling into the couch with a not-as-cozy blanket draped over him. "I don't know what to say to that."

"Just accept it."

Peter chuckled. "I can do that."

A sweet smile was spread across the space between them, warm and something. After a moment, Peter asked, "So what exactly did your C&D say?"

"The majority of it was just getting her to stop her public and private attacks on you," Tony started. He sat on one of the couch cushions and it was weird seeing it not sink in with his weight. "There was a second petition as well, to get visiting hours with Morgan. I hope, uh," he looked truly nervous here. "I hope you don't mind. I really think you'll love her, Pete." His eyes were earnest as he said this, not really looking for acceptance to an apology that wasn't given. Tony wanted Peter to know his daughter and Peter wanted that too.

"Of course I will," Peter smiled. "She's part you, remember?"

#starker #ironspider #peter parker #tony stark #tony stark x peter parker #peter parker x tony stark #peter parker/tony stark #tony x peter #for you fic

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