#FLYING OVER TO YOU WITH FRESHLY BAKED COOKIES !!!!!!!!!!!! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

genshinluvr · 2 years

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Failed Attempts

Pairings: Various Genshin Men x Isekai'd!Reader

Summary: An AU in which you and the men aren't dating (yet). This is about the men and their failed attempts at flirting with you and getting some alone time with you away from the others.

Note: Hello, I typed this out while I was sick, so I have no idea how this turns out. I did have a first draft at first, but then I didn't like how it was turning out, so I deleted the first draft and started a new one. Which is this one! ;v; I hope you all like it or at least find it decent. I type the entire thing while having a fever and during my midterms week 💀 Since Valentine's Day is coming up in two days, I guess this can count as one. Especially towards the end of the fic, maybe 🤔 To the new and returning readers, please remember that I don't post anywhere else but on Tumblr (Genshinluvr) and on AO3 (Aaliah_exo).

Warnings: None that I know of unless Childe wanting fourteen children counts.

Word Count: 10.1k

There are many times when the twenty-five men have attempted to flirt with you and ask you out on a date, but their attempts would fly over your head. Imagine trying to ask your crush out or flirt with them, only for them to stare back at you cluelessly or brush it off as any other comment. The reaction is like a kick to the gut, but in this case, a kick to the ego and pride. It’s a hilarious sight for Lumine, Paimon, and anyone who witnesses it in person. The failed attempts are entertaining for any person that sees them in person. Not only is it funny, but it’s also hard to watch.

Here you are, pinned against the wall. Childe’s arms cage you between the wall of the estate and his body. He gazes at you with intensity while you stare back at him owlishly. The look on your face is so cute that it makes Childe want to lean down and bite your cheeks. The upstairs cheeks, but the downstairs ones are good too— for the bedroom.

“So, [Y/N], what do you think about us having a future together? You, me, us living in Snezhnaya and having fourteen children?” Childe asks casually.

You look at Childe with wide eyes. “Fourteen children? I don’t think I’ll be able to handle that many children, Childe. I can barely handle twenty-five men living under the same roof as me,” you say lightheartedly.

Childe opens his mouth to reply, but the timer next to the oven chimes, startling both of you. You peek from under his arms, and your eyes light up. Before Childe had you pinned to the estate’s wall, you were baking cookies because you were craving chocolate chip cookies. And now they are done baking in the oven!

“The cookies are ready!” You said.

You duck from underneath Childe’s arms and trot over to the kitchen, grabbing oven mitts, opening the oven, and pulling out the tray of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies. The smell of freshly baked cookies wafts in the air, almost making you moan at the delicious aroma. Childe is left standing there, his mouth agape, looking at you in disbelief.

Pantalone snickers and props his arm on Childe’s shoulder with a smirk. “Maybe [Y/N] doesn’t like the idea of being trapped in Snezhnaya with mini Tartaglias running around,” Pantalone teases Childe.

“I don’t blame them for avoiding Childe’s strange proposition! Sounds like a nightmare for us all! One Childe is enough already,” Scaramouche rolls his eyes, smirking at the annoyed ginger Harbinger.

Itto snorts and smirks at Childe. “Maybe they’re not interested in you, Childe. I think they might be into onis like myself,” Itto says, flipping his hair over his shoulders.

Childe makes a face at Itto, brushing Pantalone’s arm off his shoulders with an eye roll. While in the kitchen, you place the chocolate chip cookies on the cooling rack and take your oven mitts off after closing the oven. You set the timer to five minutes for the cookies to cool down, placing the timer next to the cooling rack.

You walk out of the kitchen and dust your hands on your apron. “The cookies should be ready to eat after five minutes! Although I can’t guarantee that it won’t be hot. I think it’s better to eat them fresh than eat them days after it's fresh out of the oven,” you said.

Kaeya approaches where you’re standing and stands before you. Kaeya caresses your face in his left hand, brushing the tip of his thumb against the apples of your cheek. Kaeya smiles at you and gazes at you with the softest expression you have ever seen. You look at Kaeya, breathless. Kaeya brushes a strand of hair away from your face, tucking them behind your ear. Childe, Itto, Pantalone, and Scaramouche stare at Kaeya blankly. How dare Kaeya make such a suave move on you right in front of their very own eyes? Especially after Childe’s failed attempts of getting you to elope with him, move to Snezhnaya with him, and raise fourteen children together. Not that they think about it— Childe, Itto, Scaramouche, and Pantalone can see why the red-headed whine tycoon dislikes his adoptive brother so much.

“Once the cookies are done cooling down, care to eat the cookies with me in front of the fireplace? Just you and me?” Kaeya asks.

To you, Kaeya’s voice is soft and gentle. But to the other men around him, Kaeya’s voice sounds like nails on a chalkboard. Of course, the Calvary Captain is suave with the ladies! It’s no surprise that someone like Kaeya would be able to scare a total babe like you. Right? You stare up at Kaeya, and a big smile appears on your face.

“That sounds perfect, Kaeya! We can all sit in front of the fireplace and eat freshly baked cookies! It’s a perfect atmosphere!” You said.

Everyone almost burst out laughing. Kaeya didn’t have a strong reaction to your obliviousness. Instead, Kaeya continues to smile at you and nod. Kaeya doesn’t mind that other people will be joining the both of you in front of the fireplace, eating freshly baked chocolate chip cookies that you have baked. As long as you’re sitting next to him, he doesn’t mind having other people join you two.

Kaeya’s bottom lip juts out. “You’ll be sitting next to me, right?” Kaeya asks. He reaches for your hand and interlocks his fingers with yours.

The little display of affection causes the men in the room to go silent. Eyes narrowing, their eyes zeroed in on your and Kaeya’s laced fingers. You squeeze Kaeya’s hands and nod.

“Of course, we can sit next to each other, Kaeya! You don’t need to ask,” you reply. “Besides, I think everyone sitting around the fireplace while eating cookies would be a perfect time for us all to get to know each other more,” you said.

Itto holds his hand in the air. “What if we don’t care about the others, but we only care about you?” Itto asks.

You snort. “Itto, I think you all should care about each other regardless. Plus, since we’re all living under the same roof in the abode, it would be nice if we all got to know each other and formed a friendship,” you reply.

“What about a relationship?” Aether asks.

You stare at him and at the other men, who are all anticipating your response to Aether’s question.

“I mean, if you all want to get into a relationship with each other, go ahead!” You shrug your shoulders.

Everyone in the room either face-palmed or stared at you in disbelief. How are you this dense? Well, technically, Aether wasn’t as specific as he should be, but your response is something they did not expect.

“No, no, no, sweetheart. I think Aether meant forming a relationship with you,” Capitano says, rubbing your shoulders.

You shrug your shoulders again. “A relationship can mean anything. There are many terms for relationships,” you murmur, stroking your chin.

Kaveh slams his forehead on the table. “Dear archons! This is getting us nowhere,” Kaveh groans.

You wince at the sound of Kaveh’s forehead meeting the wooden table in front of him. The tension in the room is interrupted by the sound of the timer chiming from the kitchen. You walk to the kitchen to check on the chocolate chip cookies, leaving the men to their thoughts.

“I can’t believe that [Y/N] assumed that we wanted to date each other,” Gorou shivers, shaking his head.

Ayato sighs and rubs his temples. “I can’t tell whether they’re pretending to be oblivious about us trying to make a move on them or if they’re being serious about it,” Ayato murmurs, looking over in your direction.

“Judging by the expression on their face, I’m afraid they’re not joking around,” Diluc replies.

A few minutes later, you emerge from the kitchen with a plate of chocolate chip cookies in your hands with a big smile. You gesture for the men to follow you to the living room and set the plate of cookies down in front of the fireplace. The cookies are warm, and you broke one cookie in half in the kitchen to see how well the chocolate has melted, and it was perfect.

“The cookies turned out perfect! It’s a perfect amount of gooeyness to the melted chocolate, and it’s warm and soft,” you said.

Thoma walks up to you and drapes his arms over your shoulders. “The cookies look perfect, [Y/N]! I can never get my cookies to turn out as perfect as yours. Care to show me how to bake a cookie as perfect as yours?” Thoma asks, smiling down at you.

You smile and nod. “Of course! I’ll write down the instructions for you and give them to you tonight!” You said, grabbing a piece of cookie and biting into it.

The chocolate melts on your tongue, and the flavor bursts in your mouth, making you moan. You close your eyes with contentment and lick the chocolate from the corner of your lips. The cookie tastes heavenly, and you certainly died and went to heaven after taking a bite of the cookies. When you open your eyes, you notice that no one is eating the cookies. Instead, their eyes are focused on you, more specifically, your lips.

“What? Is there something on my lips?” You ask, feeling around your lips to make sure there aren’t any crumbs sticking to your lips.

Albedo nods his head and steps forward. He cups your face in his hands, tilts your head up, and wipes the small piece of crumb near your chin. Albedo wipes a tiny bit of chocolate stain at the corner of your lip before lifting the same finger and licking the chocolate from the tip of his finger.

Albedo smiles at you. “There’s no need to worry about stains and crumbs on your face anymore, [Y/N],” he says softly.

Albedo walks back to where he was standing earlier and crossed his arms over his chest with a faint smug smirk. The men around him look at Albedo in disbelief. How can someone like Albedo make such a bold move on you? Especially when it’s in front of other people who want [Y/N] almost as much as Albedo does.

Kazuha lets out a low whistle. “How suave of you, Chief Alchemist,” Kazuha says, smiling at Albedo while gazing at the Chief Alchemist from the corner of his eyes.

“So… are we not going to eat the cookies?” You ask, tilting your head to the side. “Of course, none of you have to eat the cookies if you don’t want to! I’m not going to force any of you to eat the cookies,” you chuckle, walking over to the couch and plopping down on it.

Baizhu leans to Al Haitham and whispers, “Did Albedo’s action not affect [Y/N]?”

“I’m not entirely sure. [Y/N] is hard to read,” Al Haitham mutters.

Heizou grabs a chocolate chip cookie and sits on the couch beside you, looking over at Kaeya with a smirk on his face. Kaeya stares at Heizou with his eyebrows raised, a humorless smirk appearing on Kaeya’s face. Heizou taps your shoulder and motions for you to rest your head on his shoulders.

“If you need a shoulder to lean on, you can always lean on my shoulders. Only someone as special as you can lean on my shoulders,” says Heizou, shooting you a charming smile.

Without a second thought, you happily lean your head on Heizou’s shoulders while taking a bite of your cookie. You look at Kaeya and reach your hand out, making grabby motions with your hands. Kaeya feels his face heat up before walking over to you. Kaeya sits beside you, pulls you onto his lap, and reaches for a chocolate chip cookie to snack on while the men are glaring daggers at him.

“You’re really comfortable,” you murmur, snuggling into his arms after finishing your chocolate chip cookie.

Tighnari purses his lips. “I will not eat a chocolate chip cookie unless [Y/N] gets off of Kaeya’s lap,” Tighnari comments, sticking his nose up in the air with a huff.

Cyno raises his eyebrows at Tighnari. “Well, that’s an unusual thing for you to say, Tighnari. I can see Childe be the one to make a comment like that, but you?” Cyno asks.

Pierro rolls his eyes. “Not only is it unusual, but it’s also childish coming from someone of his caliber,” Pierro looks at Tighnari from head to toe with an eyebrow raised.

A few minutes later, you end up getting off of Kaeya’s lap and walking back to the kitchen to grab a glass cup of milk. The cookie would taste even better with milk, so why not get some milk to drink with your chocolate chip cookie? When you walk back to the living room, everyone is already standing, and the cookies are missing from the plate. You look at the men and notice that their cheeks are stuffed.

You point at the plate and back at the men in front of you. “Did you all eat the cookies while I was gone?” You ask.

Venti quickly chews the chocolate chip cookie in his mouth and nods. “Yes! The cookies are delicious! We couldn’t help ourselves and decided to eat them,” Venti clears his throat after almost choking on a piece of crumb.

A big smile appears on your face after hearing what Venti said. “That’s great! What do you guys think of the cookies? Anything I need to change or improve on?” You ask.

Xiao shakes his head. “There’s nothing you need to change. The cookie is perfect, just the way it is. The same goes for you,” says Xiao.

Xiao hears a faint chuckle coming from behind him. Xiao’s head snaps towards the person’s direction, and he sees Dottore chuckling behind his hand while standing beside Pantalone, who is also chuckling.

“The Yaksha flirting with [Y/N]? How precious,” Dottore coos, giving Xiao a teasing grin.

Zhongli gives Dottore a disapproving look and shakes his head. “Dottore, I wouldn’t be speaking if I were you. Xiao has a subtle way of complimenting someone without being overbearing like someone in this room,” Zhongli says, turning to look at Dottore.

The corner of Zhongli’s lips quirked up when Dottore’s smile slipped off his face. Dottore narrows his eyes at Zhongli and rolls his eyes, looking away from the ex-archon with his arms crossing over his chest.

“Should I make more cookies?” You mutter, staring at the plate intently.

Dainsleif smiles at you. “That is up to you. Do you have enough ingredients for extra batches of cookies?” Dainsleif asks.

You puckered your lips and sighed. “I don’t think I do, but that’s okay! I can make more cookies next time!” You said.

You look at Dainsleif and notice that he has tiny little crumbs at the corner of his lips. You place your cup of milk down on the table before walking over to where he’s standing. You stand on the tip of your toes and wipe the crumbs away.

You look at Dainsleif through your eyelashes. “There were crumbs from the cookies at the corner of your lips. I had to wipe it away,” you murmur. “Although you look cute with cookie crumbs at the corner of your lips.” You giggle.

Dainsleif stares down at you, his cheeks bright pink. You give him a small smile and let your hand fall to your side. You turn and see the others looking at you and Dainsleif with a blank stare; all of them have crumbs at the corners of their lips.

Heizou points to his face. “I have crumbs on my face too. Care to wipe them away for me?” Heizou asks, flashing his pearly whites at you.

You snort and playfully roll your eyes. You walk up to Heizou and dust the crumbs from the corner of Heizou’s lips and cheek. Without saying a word, the men all line up behind Heizou, waiting for you to wipe the chocolate chip cookie crumbs off their faces.

After Childe and Kaeya’s failed attempts at flirting with you, everyone assumes that you are either not interested or they just suck at flirting. Your stay at the estate continues to be peaceful, albeit a little bit awkward, because of the tension between the men and their unspoken competition to see who can ask you out first. While the men have been trying to flirt with you, you see their comments as them showing that they care about you and how attentive they are to you.

One way the men showed that they care about you is when that one time when you fell ill and couldn’t get out of bed because of how fatigued you felt and how weak your limbs were. You woke up one day and could barely open your eyes. All you wanted to do was to sleep in and do nothing at all but sleep.

Your eyes crack open to the sound of knocking coming from your bedroom door. You roll over on your side and keep your eyes close, snuggling up against your blanket and pillow, feeling yourself drift off to sleep. You’re woken up by the sound of a knock coming from behind your door.

You swallow your saliva, feeling it slide down your severely dry throat, causing you to wince. “Yes?” You call out weakly.

You almost didn’t recognize your voice because of how scratchy and dry your throat feels. You clear your throat and weakly reach over to your nightstand for a glass cup of water. You sit up and pour water from the pitcher into the glass cup. The door to your bedroom cracks open, and several men peek into your room and see you chugging the water as if you haven’t drunk anything in days.

After drinking an entire cup of water, you put the cup down on your nightstand and wipe the water from your lips. Even though you chugged a whole cup of water, your throat continues to feel dry and scratchy.

“You don’t look too good, sweetheart,” Gorou frowns.

You smile at him weakly. “I don’t feel well either, Gorou,” you reply.

You clear your throat and plop down on your bed, staring at the ceiling. Baizhu and Dottore push past the men and rush over to your bed. Baizhu and Dottore look down at you. You look like you’re about to pass out at any minute. You have dark circles underneath your eyes, your skin feels cold and clammy when Baizhu presses the back of his hand against your forehead, and your neck feels almost hot.

Dottore frowns and caresses your face in his hands. “Oh, sweetheart. It looks like you have a cold,” Dottore whispers, tucking your hair behind your ears and wiping the sweat from your forehead.

“Stay in bed, alright? We’ll get you medication, and Thoma will make you some soup to eat,” says Baizhu; he turns to look at the blond.

Thoma nods and quickly rushes out of your bedroom and down the stairs to the kitchen to make some soup for you to eat. Baizhu and Dottore leave your side and walks to the infirmary in the estate, leaving you under the care of the other men. Diluc walks over to your bed and sits at the edge, watching you slowly get under the blankets, pulling it up to your chin.

Diluc leans down and presses his lips against your forehead, catching you and the others off guard. Diluc slowly pulls away and brushes the strands of your hair away from your sweaty forehead.

“Get well soon for us, alright? We don’t like seeing you sick,” Diluc murmurs, brushing his thumb against your flushed cheeks.

You pout and attempt to poke his cheek in return, but you feel so weak that your hand falls onto the bed halfway. Diluc’s gaze softens, and he reaches for your hand, giving them a gentle squeeze.

“I don’t know how I got sick. Maybe it’s my lack of sleep that got me sick,” you murmur, curling up into a fetal position and gazing at Diluc with bleary eyes.

Al Haitham leans against the doorway. “Have you been around anyone that’s sick? None of us are sick,” Al Haitham gestures to everyone in the room with an eyebrow raised.

You shake your head. “I don’t think so, but then again, I’ve always had a weak immune system. Unfortunately, having a weak immune system makes me vulnerable to many illnesses and diseases,” you reply.

“Oh no,” Tighnari breathes, rubbing his temples with a sigh.

Kaveh points at you. “So, what you’re telling us is that we should put you in some kind of a bubble to protect you from all kinds of sicknesses, got it.”

You snort and nod, clutching tightly onto your soft blanket. “Yes, Kaveh. That is correct,” you murmur.

Aether looks like he is about to burst into tears; seeing you sick and in this condition worries him a lot. You mentioned that you have a weak immune system means that you’re very vulnerable and are susceptible to getting sick easily. Aether doesn’t want to see you suffer and be bedridden because your immune system isn’t strong enough to fight off many diseases and illnesses. Aether walks to you and sits across from Diluc, close to your thighs.

Aether leans down and rests his head on your stomach, wrapping his arms around your waist. “Please get well soon. I want you to be healthy, happy, and with me,” Aether looks up at you with a small pout on his face.

You chuckle and run your fingers through his soft blonde hair. “Aether, I’m always with you and the others. I hope I can recover from this cold because it’s a pain in the ass to be sick,” you murmur, pinching his cheek lightly.

Aether pouts after seeing that you didn’t know what he had implied earlier. The sound of stifled snickers fills your bedroom. Aether narrows his eyes and slowly turns to the group of men by your door, hiding their grins behind their hands.

“Another failed attempt, but this time, it’s by Aether,” Venti whispers to Xiao, hiding his snickers behind his hand.

Xiao rolls his eyes, looking away from the bard while biting back a smile that threatens to appear on his face. Aether gets off of you and walks over to the two anemo vision wielders, scrunching his face up at them. A few minutes later, Baizhu and Dottore walk into your room with medicine in their hands and a surgical mask for you to wear while you’re sick.

Thoma enters the room a few minutes later with a tray of food in his hands, setting the tray down in front of you after you sit up on the bed. The aroma of the soup made your stomach rumble with hunger. You place a cloth napkin over your lap while Diluc holds your hair back, adjusting it so your hair wouldn’t fall into your soup while you eat.

“You should take your medicine after eating because the medicine might make your stomach feel queasy when you take it on an empty stomach,” says Thoma.

You nod. “You’re right, Thoma. Especially when it’s a liquid medicine for a cold,” you murmur, holding the medicine bottle up to your face and reading the words. “Are these the type to be taken during the day, or is it the one that will knock me out cold?” You ask, looking up at Baizhu and Dottore.

“Since when are there two different kinds of cold medicines?” Scaramouche asks, walking over to where you’re sitting and taking the bottle from your hands.

“One type of cold medicine is taken during the day, the other is for the night because it should help you sleep through the night without waking up to a coughing fit,” replies Ayato.

“Which is what happened to me last night,” you sigh, eating the porridge that Thoma cooked for you. “I feel like I got run over by a sumpter beast,” you grumble.

“You look like you got run over by one too, but that doesn’t take away from your beauty, snookums!” Childe says, trotting over to you with a smile on his face.

Dainsleif rolls his eyes. “What a charmer. Is this how you land the first date with [Y/N]?” Dainsleif asks Childe, the corner of his lips quirking up into a smirk.

Childe stops in his tracks, turns around, and stares at Dainsleif with his mouth agape. You’re too busy eating your food to notice the tension growing between Childe and Dainsleif. You suddenly drop the spoon in the bowl and reach for the cloth napkin on your lap and sneeze into it.

“How heavy is the dose of medicine? I need it to knock me out cold,” you sniffled.

Albedo grabs the medicine bottle from Scaramouche’s hand and looks at the label. The bottle didn’t have a specific label on how strong the medicine was, but what it did have were instructions on how much a certain age group should take.

Albedo holds the bottle out in front of you and shows the instruction to you. “It didn’t specify how strong the medicine is going to be for your sickness, but it does have dosage on how much you should take. Since you’re an adult, it’s best to take the highest dosage every five hours,” Albedo says, pointing at the top of the mini chart.

Your face pinches up, and you reluctantly grab the bottle from his hands. “Alright, I will take these after I’m done eating,” you grumble before continuing to eat your breakfast (or is it lunch?).

After finishing your bowl of soup, you take the tiny plastic cup off the bottle and place it on the food tray in front of you. You attempt to twist the cap open, only to fail. You stare at the bottle before squeezing the sides of the lid and turning it. You let out a frustrated huff of breath and put the bottle on the food tray, glaring at it. Either you’re weak from your sickness, or you’re dumb.

“What’s the matter?” Kazuha asks.

You grab the bottle and try to open the lid, failing once again. You let out an annoyed groan and nearly slam it on the food tray.

“I can’t open it,” you grumble, looking over at the twenty-five men with a deep frown on your face. “It’s a new bottle too! I swear, I followed the instructions, and I still can’t open the dang bottle,” you groused.

Without saying a word, Xiao walks over to you, takes the bottle from your hand, and inspects it for a moment before twisting the cap open with ease. He hands you the lid and bottle, staring at you.

“You were supposed to squeeze the side of the bottle,” Xiao says.

You stare at Xiao in shock and grab the bottle and lid from his hands. “I did do that! It also said to press down on the lid, pinch the sides, and twist the cap,” you explain.

Xiao gives you an odd look. “You don’t need to press down on the lid. You just squeeze the side of the lid and twist it open,” replies Xiao.

Xiao takes the bottle from your hand, closes the bottle with the lid, and demonstrates how he opened the bottle. You stare at Xiao’s hands, watching him twist the bottle open with ease. You try to do the same, only to fail.

“That bottle has favoritism,” you accuse, pushing the bottle away from you with a glare.

A few seconds after pushing the bottle away from you, you grab the bottle, mimic what Xiao did, and successfully open the bottle. You let out a slow sigh, shaking your head. You pour the liquid medicine into the small measuring bottle for the appropriate measurement. After getting the perfect measurement of the liquid medicine, you close the bottle and down the liquid medication. The taste of the medication was something you had never tasted before. It’s disgusting, but you know that if you want to get well soon, you need to take it.

You force yourself to swallow the medication and reach for the water pitcher and the glass cup, pouring water into the cup and chugging the water. Once you have emptied the glass cup, you put the pitcher and cup down on your nightstand; violent shivers rack your body.

Your face pinches up with disgust. “That tastes disgusting,” you shiver, shaking your head.

Cyno shrugs and chuckles. “Hey, it’s medicine. Medicine isn’t supposed to taste appetizing like candy,” says Cyno.

Dottore and Baizhu take the liquid medicine from your hands while Thoma takes the food tray and napkin off your lap. You want to lay down on your bed, but you think you should let your food and medication settle down in your stomach before lying down. Or else there’s a possible chance that the food and medicine will come back up.

“Are you not going to go back to sleep?” Pantalone asks.

You shake your head. “Not yet. I’m letting everything settle down in my stomach first before going back to sleep. Other than that, have any of you eaten anything?” You ask.

“We ate already. We assumed you were going to come downstairs for breakfast, but you never came down,” replies Capitano.

You give Capitano a weak smile and run your fingers through your hair. “I was so tired that I could barely get out of bed. I didn’t even notice that I slept in until I woke up to the sound of knocking at my door,” you said.

“When you’re feeling healthy again, what do you think about joining me in having lunch or dinner at the Liuli Pavilion?” Zhongli asks, sitting down beside you and caressing your face in his hands.

Your eyes light up, and you nod eagerly. “Ooh! I would love to, Zhongli! I just hope I heal soon because dining at Liuli Pavilion sounds amazing right now, even though I just ate,” you said.

Zhongli smiles and strokes the apples of your cheeks with the pad of his thumb. Zhongli looks at the others from the corners of his eyes, a faint smirk appearing on his face. The men shoot a glare in Zhongli’s direction after seeing a smug smile on the former archon’s face.

Pierro clears his throat. “I heard that Liuli Pavilion serves a lot of food for their customers. If it’s just you and Zhongli going alone, would you two be able to finish all of that food? I think everyone should be able to tag along as well,” Pierro says gruffly.

You blink at Pierro and look at Zhongli, who seems displeased. You shrug and rub the back of your neck awkwardly. You have gone to Liuli Pavilion before, but it was never alone with Zhongli or anyone else that lives in the abode. You think they only bring out a certain amount of food if you ordered certain food on the menu.

“I mean, Zhongli did invite me. I think it should be up to him to make that decision,” you murmur, looking at Zhongli through your lashes.

Zhongli stares at you, then look over at the men, who are giving him puppy dog eyes and mischievous smiles. Zhongli rolls his eyes and sighs through his nose, rubbing his temples. If Zhongli declines, it will make him look bad. If he agrees, then he wouldn’t get to have some alone time with you away from the others. It’s a lose-lose situation for the former archon either way.

“If the others are free and have nothing on their schedule, then they can join us, dearest. If they’re unable to join us, then it’ll be just you and me at Liuli Pavilion,” Zhongli answers, squeezing your hand gently.

You turn to look at the men. “Zhongli says it's up to all of you whether you guys want to join Zhongli and me or not,” you said.

“We’ll clear our schedule when the day comes,” Pierro states.

The men behind Pierro nod their heads in agreement. While you give them small smiles and prepare to take another nap, Zhongli is giving the men a not-so-subtle glare. Some of the men collectively smile at Zhongli innocently, while others give Zhongli a smug grin at Zhongli’s irritation at not being able to spend time alone with you.

After you have found a comfortable position to lie down and sleep, Zhongli presses a gentle kiss on your forehead. You smile up at Zhongli and caress his face in your hand. Zhongli places his hand over yours and closes his eyes with contentment. Feeling a sneeze coming up, you pull your hand from Zhongli’s face and sneeze into your elbow twice.

“Alright, little one, you need to go to sleep now. If you don’t get enough sleep, your body won’t be able to fight off the illness,” Dottore says, smiling at you at the entrance of your room.

You feel Zhongli press one last kiss on your hot forehead before getting off your bed and walking over to your bedroom door. The others soon follow behind Zhongli: they all give you forehead kisses before leaving your bedroom to let you sleep in peace.

A few weeks later, it was Venti’s turn to attempt to flirt with you. The anemo archon has a stack of ballads prepared just for this very special day. He is excited to perform for you and impress you with the poems that he has created. You have always been the source of his inspiration, and he cannot wait to showcase something special with you.

You’re laying on a hammock outside of the estate under the trees. The wind rocks the hammock back and forth while you look at the early afternoon sky through the orange leaves. You stretch and let out a groan, feeling a satisfying pop. You hear a soft melody flow in the wind, making you prop yourself up on your arms and search for where the melody is coming from.

You see Venti strolling up to your hammock while gently strumming his lyre. Venti smiles at you and stops next to your hammock. You sit up and hug the pillow against your chest, looking at the bard curiously.

“Care to listen to a few ballads of mine? Just to let you know, you’re the source of my inspiration,” Venti says, winking at you.

You feel your face heat up. “I would love to listen to your ballads, Venti!” You chirp.

You scoot over to the left and pat the empty spot next to you on the hammock. Venti gracefully lifts himself onto the hammock, sitting beside you. Venti clears his throat and adjusts his lyre in his hands. Venti begins strumming the lyre, the soft melody filling the quiet air between you two. Venti starts humming and swaying to the song. He looks up at you and gives you the sweetest smile.

Before Venti could sing, the strings of the lyre snapped. Venti gasps in horror and looks at the lyre, freaking out about how he is going to fix the lyre before the other men start to butt into your and his quiet space. You and Venti hear a slow clap coming from a distance, looking up to see the men walking toward you and Venti.

“What a performance of a lifetime, Barbatos,” Kaeya chuckles, crossing his arms over his chest.

Venti gives the twenty-four men a fake smile before turning to you with a fake laugh, the apples of his cheeks almost as red as Diluc’s hair.

You look at Venti and his lyre worriedly. “It’s okay if you’re not able to perform for me, Venti. You can perform for me any time!” You reach for Venti’s hand and squeeze it gently.

Venti looks defeated; if he had dog ears, they would be flat on his head while giving you puppy dog eyes. You give Venti a sympathetic smile and pull him into a hug, catching him and the others off guard.

“When you get the strings fixed, come to my room, and you can play all of the ballads you like,” you murmur into his ears, tucking his hair behind his ear. “I’ll be expecting your visitation, Barbatos,” you stroke his hair.

Venti audibly gulps, pulling away from your hug with a red face. A big smile breaks out on Venti’s face, and he nods his head eagerly, planting a big kiss on your cheeks before scrambling out of the hammock to get the lyre fixed as soon as possible. Sure, he can fix it by snapping his fingers, but the look on the other men’s faces is scary, and he needs to disappear for a few hours.

“So much for ruining the moment between [Y/N] and Venti,” Itto mutters, crossing his arms over his chest with a frustrated sigh.

Childe nods. “Yeah, no kidding. Instead of ruining their moment together, we pushed them together. And now Venti will be showing up to [Y/N]’s bedroom after he gets his lyre fixed,” Childe grumbles, kicking the dirt beneath his foot like an angry toddler.

“It would be a shame if we walk into [Y/N]’s room before the performance starts,” Aether shrugs his shoulders.

If you think the men walking in on your and Venti’s supposed quiet moment, imagine the men insisting on keeping you company while you’re in the hot springs. Butt naked. You dip your hair into the hot water and wring the water out, leaning against the walls of the hot spring with a sigh, feeling your muscles relax.

The sound of water running in the hot springs is interrupted by the sound of chatter approaching the bathhouse in the abode. Your eyes shoot open, and you sink into the water until the water reaches your chin, your arms over your chest to preserve your modesty. The doors to the bathhouse open, and the men walk into the hotspring. All are shirtless, wearing towels around their waist. The towels hung low at their hips; the towels looked like they could slip off at any moment.

“Oh, [Y/N]! What a pleasant surprise to see you here at the bathhouse!” Pantalone says casually, smiling at you as he stops in front of the hot spring you’re currently sitting in.

You couldn’t tell if your face was feeling hot because of the temperature in the bathhouse or if it was because of the twenty-five shirtless (almost naked men) in front of you. You audibly gulp and give them a wary smile, continuing to keep most of your body submerged in the waters.

You laugh awkwardly. “I didn’t think all of you would be coming to the bathhouse at the same time that I do,” you say, keeping your arms pressed against your chest.

“Oh? Are we not allowed to visit the bathhouse while you’re here?” Capitano asks, propping his hands on his hips.

Your eyes trail over Capitano’s bare chest. His chest was littered with scars, fresh and old scars. His pecks are definitely bigger than Al Haitham and Itto’s pecks. But they don’t compare to Pierro’s pecks. Your face gradually becomes hotter, making you sink further into the water. You look away from them after seeing knowing smirks on their faces.

“No, no! You can visit the bathhouse whenever! But uh, there are empty hot springs over there,” you point over to the hot spring three feet away from where yours is located.

Kaveh huffs and crosses his arms over his chest. “What if we want to keep you company in the same hot spring?” Kaveh asks, raising his eyebrows at you with an overly exaggerated frown.

“Then you can keep me company from a distance! Just not in the same hot spring as me,” you reply as you point over at the hot spring three feet away from you.

There’s no way in hell you’re going to let these men sit in the same hot springs as you. All of you are naked, and you don’t want people to see you naked. Heck, you never looked at yourself naked in the mirror before! These men have great physiques, and you have seen them shirtless plenty of times before, but have you seen them naked before? That is something you won’t be talking about right now.

“Alright, but that won’t stop us from coming over to talk to you,” Tighnari says, patting your head as he walks to the nearest hot spring.

You shut your eyes and cover your face with your hands when you hear towels dropping to the ground and splashes of water coming from the hot spring near yours. You assume that everyone has gotten into the hot spring a few feet from yours and uncover your eyes. You look around for your towel and nearly cry when you realize that your towel is hanging on the wall five feet from where you’re at. You sink into the water, feeling shame and embarrassment for leaving your towel there because you’re unaware that the men are going to join you at the bathhouse. You continue to press yourself against the wall of the hot spring, praying that no one will approach the hot spring you’re sitting in. You’re not in the mood to talk to anyone because everyone is naked, and you don’t want to see anyone’s bare asses (that’s a lie, you do, but let’s pretend that you don’t), nor do you want them to see your bare ass.

“Are you okay, [Y/N]?” You hear Gorou call out to you.

You turn your head and see Gorou looking at you curiously, his head peeking from the edge of the hot spring. You give Gorou a fake smile and nod. You might as well pretend that you’re okay, or else they’ll approach you while naked. If you continue to stay, who knows what’s going to happen?

You clear your throat. “I’m fine, Gorou! I, uh, I’m trying to relax in the hot spring,” you say, chewing on the inside of your cheek.

“You know, going to the hot spring alone isn’t fun. It’s too quiet, and it feels a little bit lonely, don’t you think?” Heizou asks, resting his arms on the edge of the hot spring.

You nod. “That is true, but sometimes, it’s nice to have some alone time for yourself. It’s a good way to clear your mind and relax,” you say.

You push yourself away from the wall of the hot spring before fully submerging in the water. You emerge from the water and push your hair out of your face, wiping the water from your face while keeping most of your body hidden in the water.

“You look lonely over there. Doesn’t [Y/N] look lonely over there, Thoma?” Ayato asks, peeking over at you from where he’s sitting before glancing at the blond man beside him.

Thoma peeks at you and nods. “Yes, they look quite lonely over there, my Lord,” Thoma agrees.

You narrow your eyes at the men and slowly sink into the water up to your chin. “What do you guys have in mind?” You drawled out.

“Oh, nothing you need to worry about! We’re just commenting on how lonely it must be over there. If you do feel lonely, you can always come over here and join us all, or let us keep you company over there,” Baizhu says, leaning back in the hot spring.

“I’m actually going to leave the bathhouse very soon,” you reply, internally panicking about how you’re going to leave the bathhouse without the others seeing you butt-ass naked.

With your towel hanging far from the springs, there’s no way the others wouldn’t see your bare ass when you hop out of the hot spring and run to the towel. Plus, running isn’t permitted in the bathhouse because that is a hazard waiting to happen. You’re not going to risk slipping and cracking your skull open in the bathhouse in front of everyone with your bits on full display.

“Oh? You’re leaving so soon,” Albedo says, frowning while slicking his hair back.

You laugh nervously. “I have been here for a while. My fingers are starting to get pruney,” you said, holding up your hand to show the men your wrinkly fingertips.

“You can still hang out with us while wearing a towel. We’ll make sure that everyone behaves,” Kazuha says, turning to look at the men with a look.

You point at the towel on the wall. “I would get my towel, but the towel is far, and I don’t want to leave the hot spring to grab the towel,” you said, puckering your lips.

“Don’t worry your pretty little head about it. I got this,” Scaramouche says.

Scaramouche uses his anemo vision, ignoring the look the other anemo users shot in his direction. Despite Scaramouche possessing both an anemo and electro vision, he uses his anemo vision the most and his electro vision to zap those around him. You grab your towel that was hovering in the air and gesture for the men to turn around or shield their eyes. The men turn around and cover their eyes.

You get out of the hot spring and wrap the towel around your body. Once you have tightened the towel around your body, you let the men know you’re covered. The men uncover their eyes and motion for you to walk to where they’re sitting. While walking over to the hot spring where they’re relaxing, you wring the water out of your hair and grab an extra towel on the towel rack and wrap your hair in the towel, letting it sit on your head.

“Are you free three days from now?” Al Haitham asks, watching you dip your legs into the hot spring.

You pause and contemplate. Three days from now? What day will that be?

“I think so? I don’t think I have anything planned that day other than going to school….” You murmur, tightening your grip on the towel around your body. “Why?” You ask, looking at Al Haitham quizzically.

“He’s just wondering if you’re free on a Tuesday, that’s all,” Cyno interjects, shooting Al Haitham a not-so-subtle glare.

Al Haitham glares back at Cyno and rolls his eyes, crossing his arms over his bare chest. You look away after finding yourself staring at Al Haitham’s chest. You clear your throat shyly and shrug your shoulders.

“Well, I don’t think I have anything planned that day. I should be free,” you said, trying to distract yourself from the naked men in front of you.

Diluc nods. “Good, then that settles then,” Diluc states.

“Settles what?” You ask.

“You’ll know when the time comes. For now, we can’t tell you what it is,” Dainsleif says, slicking his hair back.

You scrunch your face at Dainsleif’s response and the men’s vagueness. “Aw! You guys are no fun for not telling me what you guys have in store,” you huff.

Pantalone chuckles and squeezes your calf under the water. “You’ll see when the time comes, sweetheart,” Pantalone says.

Fast forward to a few days later, you’re out in Mondstadt buying flowers to plant in the abode. Recently, you have decided that you wanted the abode to have a garden. To be more specific, you wanted the other floating island (next to where the estates are located) to be full of flowers from all over Teyvat. It would be nice to sit in a field full of flowers from different regions, and why not start doing it now?

Plus, the men gave you this idea earlier in the morning and sent you out into the world to gather some seeds to plant these flowers in the abode. Now, what they didn’t tell you is that you can buy these seeds from Tubby. After purchasing the seeds of the flowers you’re looking for, you bid Flora goodbye before turning to leave the city. The next city you’re going to stop by is Liyue. When you’re about to leave the city of Mondstadt, Diluc, and Kaeya walk up to you.

“Oh, Diluc and Kaeya! What are you two doing here?” You ask, placing the small packet of flower seeds into your bag.

“We’re here to keep you company, if you don’t mind,” Kaeya says, smiling at you.

Your eyes light up. “Of course, I don’t mind! I’m about to leave for Liyue to buy flower seeds! I’m thinking glaze lilies, silk flowers, and violetgrass,” you said, pulling your small notepad out from your bag.

“Instead of silk flowers, why not go for Qingxin instead?” Diluc asks, raising his eyebrows at you.

You purse your lips and sigh. “You know, I would do that, but I already placed my order for glaze lilies, silk flowers, and violetgrass,” you sulk.

Kaeya gives you a sympathetic smile before pulling you into his arms, stroking your hair, and pressing his lips on the top of your head. Diluc crosses his arms over his chest, looking unamused after seeing the display of affection between you and Kaeya. Kaeya smirks, and Diluc turns and walks off with you in his arms. Diluc rolls his eyes and follows the two of you, pulling you out of Kaeya’s arms.

While you, Diluc, and Kaeya are in Liyue, the men are scrambling around the abode, making sure things are going well and according to plan. So far, everything has been going smoothly. The flowers are arriving on time, and so are the decorations. Diluc and Kaeya are instructed to return to the estate while you’re in Sumeru, picking up the last order you have placed for Sumeru roses and Padisarahs. Their main goal is to keep you distracted and out of the abode until you have picked up every last order of the flower seeds from the four nations.

“You don’t think [Y/N] is going to return to the abode so soon, do you?” Venti asks Dainsleif nervously.

Dainsleif shakes his head. “I don’t think they are. If they were to return to the abode earlier than expected, then everything should be fine,” Dainsleif says.

“Exactly! Plus, things have been sailing smoothly, and arriving earlier than expected. It’s fine because we don’t know when [Y/N] will return to the abode with the flower seeds they have ordered from four different nations,” Aether says, fixing his shirt and smoothing out the creases.

“Was it necessary to have [Y/N] run around Teyvat to buy flower seeds when they can buy them from Tubby?” Heizou asks, pointing at the teapot spirit.

Cyno walks into the estate, holding a vase of Sumeru roses. “For today, yes. It’s necessary,” Cyno replies.

“What if they’re allergic to some of the flowers that are being brought into the estate?” Itto asks, poking the Sumeru rose when Cyno walks past him.

Al Haitham rolls his eyes and fixes the sleeve of his blazer. “They’re not from this world, Itto. I don’t think they would want to have a large garden if they were allergic to the flowers we’re bringing into the abode,” Al Haitham mutters.

“Nor would we send them out into Teyvat with Diluc and Kaeya to buy flower seeds,” Kaveh interjects, giving Itto a look.

Back on Teyvat, you, Diluc, and Kaeya step into Sumeru. You smell the fresh air and tuck the flower seeds into your bag. Sumeru is your last destination, and you can’t wait to go back to the abode and start planning how you want the garden to be arranged. You weren’t sure if you wanted to have a large dome for the separate island or let the flowers be fully exposed to the abode’s sunlight.

You walk to the flower shop in Sumeru with Diluc and Kaeya by your side, checking off the items on your list. You made sure to choose around two to three flowers from each nation. You’re mainly choosing the flowers the men have recommended for you to get. That includes an amakumo fruit, and you’re not entirely sure why they wanted you to pick the amakumo fruit, but you did, and that is probably the last time you visit Seirai island. Needless to say, you didn’t like the atmosphere of the island, nor did you like the sound of thunder booming in the sky while you were searching for the fruit.

While you’re waiting for the merchant to come out from behind the shop with your order, Diluc and Kaeya informed you that they have businesses to tend to and would meet you back at the abode. You watch the two men leave before looking at the list in your hand.

“I don’t think I’ll have enough seeds to fill the floating island with flowers,” you grumble, pulling the small packets of flower seeds. “Five packets for each flower is not going to cover the entire island,” you deadpan.

“[Y/N]? I have your order here! Five packets of Sumeru Rose seeds and Padisarahs, am I correct?” The merchant asks, emerging from behind the curtains and holding up your order.

He walks toward you with a clipboard in his other hand. You give the merchant a nod, now realizing that the number of packets you have isn’t enough. The merchant has you sign the paperwork to confirm that you stopped by the flower shop and picked up the order Tighnari has placed under your name.

After signing the paper, the merchant hands your order before giving you a small note on how to take care of the flowers. You put the packet of Sumeru rose and Padisarah seeds into your bag before walking out of the shop, reading over the note the merchant wrote. To be honest, you don’t think the instruction was necessary because Tighnari has informed you that he will be showing you how to care for the flowers.

“Back to the abode I go,” you said.

The abode is located in the small corner of Sumeru City, tucked away from the public eye. Only you and the men know where the teapot is placed. You yawn and stretch your arms. You stand in front of the teapot and let it whisk you home. Once you have entered the teapot, you walk to the estate and stop in your tracks almost immediately when you notice the entrance to the main estate is wide open.

“Did someone forget to close the door?” You mutter.

You adjust the straps of your bag on your shoulder and jog to the entrance. When you enter the estate and close the door behind you, you notice the interior of the estate is very pink and red. Flowers are lined up against the walls of the estate; balloons are tied to the railing, and party streamers are hung from the ceiling.

“What is the occasion?” You ask, turning to the formally dressed men in front of you. “Also,” you pull the packets of flower seeds from your bag, “these are not going to cover the entire area of the floating island next door,” you said.

“[Y/N], what’s important right now? The flower seeds, or us attempting to ask you to go out with us?” Thoma asks, quirking an eyebrow at you.

You stare at Thoma blankly and at the other men. Not only are they dressed nicely, but each man is holding flowers from their respective region. Some flowers you have never seen before, but they’re beautiful. Speaking of them dressing nicely, how come they look nice and you look like you’re going on a walk?

“Are you guys trying to ask me to be your significant other, or are you guys trying to ask me to be your Valentine?” You ask, taking your bag off and setting it down on the table near the entrance.

“Uh, both?” Baizhu says.

“What’s Valentine’s Day?” Scaramouche mutters, looking at Xiao quizzically.

Xiao shrugs his shoulders in response. How in the world is he supposed to know what Valentine’s Day is?

Childe steps to the front and pulls you toward him, your chest pressing against his chest. Childe caresses your face in his hands and smiles at you.

“Do you know how hard it is to flirt with you?” Childe asks.

You blink at him. “What do you mean?”

“You’re intelligent, but you can be a little bit dense. I think the better term for it would be oblivious,” Albedo interjects, the corners of his lips curving up.

You hold your hand up in defense. “Listen, I have never had anyone flirt with me before. Whether in this world or my world, I never flirted with anyone, nor have they flirted with me. Even if they flirt with me, I wouldn’t know how to respond because, well, I….” you trail off.

Do you have to explain to the men that you have no game? You never had a boyfriend, you never flirted with anyone, no one has ever flirted with you, and you’ve never been out on a date before, so how in the world are you supposed to be able to notice it?

“Oh, trust me, many of us have tried to flirt with you. It would either go over your head, or one of us would ruin each other’s chances of asking you out,” Ayato chuckles.

“And some of us,” Tighnari looks over at Childe, “has made it blatantly obvious too.”

Dottore pushes Childe away from you, grabbing your hand and planting a kiss on your knuckles. “What do you say, [Y/N]? Will you be my Valentine?” Dottore asks, gazing at you through his mask.

“Your Valentine?! I’m sure [Y/N] would much rather be my Valentine and not yours,” Xiao huffs, glaring at the icy-blue-haired Harbinger.

You puckered your lips, your eyebrows narrow, and you gestured to them. “I have to pick between all of you?” You ask.

“That is correct. Unless you have another thing in mind?” Zhongli raises his eyebrows at you.

“What if…. I reject all of you?” You ask jokingly.

Gorou looks at you nervously. “Please don’t. I don’t think my heart will be able to handle it,” Gorou whispers, clutching his chest.

“Well, if I can’t choose all of you, then I might as well reject all of you,” you huff, crossing your arms over your chest.

Kazuha raises his eyebrows at you, and a small smirk appears. “You want all of us?” Kazuha asks.

You press your lips into a thin line and nod. “That’s correct. I mean, we all live in the abode together. I either take all of you for myself or none of you,” You said, shrugging your shoulders. “I know what I want, but do you know what you want?” You ask.

“Yes, we know what we want, and it’s certainly not each other,” Capitano says, earning a snort from you.

Pantalone pokes the inside of his cheek with his tongue. “Is this going to be another failed attempt of asking [Y/N] to be ours?” Pantalone murmurs to Pierro.

“Archons, I hope not,” Pierro sighs.

You shrug and look around the estate. “It won’t be a failed attempt if I get to choose all of you,” you said nonchalantly.

Heizou clasps his hands. “How about this: you will be our Valentine, and we’ll be your Valentine. None of us,” Heizou gestures to him and the other men around him, “will be a couple of any sort with each other. We date you, and you date us. We have no interest in each other. We’re only interested in you.”

You squint your eyes. “Okay, that doesn’t sound bad. But what about the jealousy? I know some of you can get jealous and possessive,” you said, giving certain men in the room a side-eye.

Dainsleif sighs. “We’ll get used to sharing you, eventually,” Dainsleif says.

“So? Will you be our Valentine? More importantly: will you be ours?” Thoma asks nervously.

“Did you hear a no?” You smile at them.

“We didn’t hear a yes,” Childe scrunches his nose at you.

You roll your eyes playfully. “Yes, I’ll be all of your Valentines. And yes, I gladly accept being your partner,” you said.

Did that make sense? You scratch your head.

“Oh, thank archons, this isn’t one of the many failed attempts,” Aether sighs in relief, tackling you into a hug.

Tighnari bats at Aether. “Hey, move it. I want to give [Y/N] a hug, too,” Tighnari’s ears twitch with irritation.

Cyno pushes Tighnari to the side. “Then get in the back of the line and don’t cut,” Cyno retorts.

Al Haitham snorts. “How juvenile,” he mutters, gazing at Tighnari and Cyno with an amused look on his face.

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palioom · 10 months

Text

sweet, sweet icing

summary: dieter is decorating the cookies you baked with a very special kind of icing

pairing: dieter bravo x f!reader word count: 2.0k warnings:18+ content; no use of y/n ; baking; oral (m receiving); cum eating; established relationship; facial (not the beauty kind)

a/n: the first of my little "kinkmas" collection - one christmas/winter themed fic for every advent

• masterlist •

It was chilly out, the wind whirling snow up against the frosty windows, howling as it passed by. People dressed in thick layers were hurrying home to get out of the icy cold, illuminated by the beautiful lights placed throughout the city.

A world so unlike their apartment - warm and cozy, full of string lights and silly little Christmas decorations. Reindeers and Santas and glowing stars hanging from the ceiling, almost seeming like a wonderland of some sort.

The smell of freshly baked cookies hung in the air, wafting into every room from the kitchen where the still warm cookies laid on the countertops, ready to be decorated.

It had been her doing, taking all morning to prepare the dough, using all kinds of different cookie cutter forms to shape them before finally baking them. She loved the baking part, enjoying the silence in the kitchen while Dieter still slept. He would only try to eat the dough and mess with her otherwise – she had learned that really quickly the first few times she had tried to bake with him present.

But Dieter loved decorating cookies. They always ended up looking like an LSD trip gone wrong, as well as less than family friendly sometimes, but he really enjoyed doing it. It was an outlet for his creative side and even though there were less cookies than before he had entered the kitchen, she gave him full reign over it.

Like now, hearing him hum along to some music before it was cut off by a brief laugh, while she sat on the sofa, hot chocolate warming her hands, just watching some random Christmas movie. She would go and keep him company, but the mess he created just annoyed her, preferring to see the finished results once he had cleaned up.

Because when Dieter decorated anything in the kitchen it tended to go just like when he was painting – colour everywhere, spilled icing turning the kitchen counters into a sticky nightmare that all the other chocolate chips and sprinkles and sugary forms clung to.

So, exactly what one would expect of Dieter.

Behind her, she could hear some grunting coming from him, but she ignored it. Figuring he was doing God knows what. Maybe picking up some things he’d knocked over or searching some cabinets for more things to slather onto the baked goods.

She couldn’t wait to see what he had done this time around and she wished she had taken just one cookie for herself before retreating onto the sofa. Oh well, her hot chocolate would do for now.

Eventually, the noise behind her completely vanished as she concentrated on the movie, barely noticing when Dieter appeared in the living room.

“Babe, they’re done.” His voice pulled her away from the TV, eyes flying over to where he was walking towards her. Baggy shirt hanging off his broad shoulders, the area around the belly stained with all sorts of colourful things. She was sure that his loose pants also bore some marks of his wild adventures in the kitchen, but she couldn’t really see on the already wild pattern. The underside of his nose was dusted with powder, and she really hoped it was anything but coke. “They’re so fucking good.”

She laughed, eyeing the colourful cookies on the plate he held in one hand, looking just like she had expected them to. They were crazy, for the lack of a better term, but not messy. There was a certain method to how Dieter worked, both on set and when being creative here at home, and decorating cookies was no exception.

To a new eye, the weird shapes on some seemed random and applied without care – colourful swirls and zig zags and dots, seemingly random colours drawn onto the shapes of Santa and Christmas trees and reindeers.

But she could recognize some patterns, like from his pants or previous paintings he had made while high as a kite. She swore she could even see some shapes in them, objects that got lost in the assault of colours.

Or maybe she had just lost her mind after spending so much time with him.

There were a few remarkably plain ones, too. Just all green or all white, no sprinkles or anything else added to them.

“They look awesome, Dee!” She said, taking one cookie in the form of a star, drowning in orange and yellow swirls.

He looked like a little kid as she took a bite, all excited, biting his bottom lip in anticipation. Maybe he was a little too excited, making her laugh after she finished the cookie.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

With his dishevelled hair and the sheepish grin, it almost looked like he had been up to something.

Did she even want to know what it was?

Maybe he had completely ruined the countertops this year? The floor? Or maybe even the ceiling?

She remembered one year where he had somehow managed to cover the kitchen ceiling in colourful specks.

“Just excited for you to try ‘em!” Dieter said, taking a plain white one, holding it out to her. Looking so sweet, yet naughty. “Take this one.”

She sighed, shaking her head with a laugh. “I want one of those with sprinkles.”

The plain one would just be boring icing, and she really had her eyes on the ones littered with sprinkles. Or the ones where Santa had his pants down, complete with a tiny dick drawn onto it.

Who else was gonna come up with this other than him?

“Nah, this one first, babe.”

Relenting, she leaned forward to take a bite from the cookie he still held out to her. Expecting more of the sugary taste of the icing, but finding no sweet taste, beside the cookie itself.

In fact, it tasted rather… salty.

Dieter’s eyes glinted mischievously as her eyes shot up and found his, widening just slightly as it dawned on her.

He hadn’t seriously-? No, he couldn’t have.

The noises made sense now. All the grunting and giggling.

“Dieter?” She asked with a small laugh, her hand coming up to her mouth as she chewed. He really looked like a kid that had done something really bad which he found joy in regardless. “Oh my God, are you serious?”

Dieter laughed too now, deep and warm, shrugging his shoulders with that same sheepish smile on his face still..

“Surprise flavor, babe.”

Yeah, he absolutely was serious. The idea had come to him after he had actually spilled some of the icing over the counter, watching it drip down onto the floor, it really had taken his mind elsewhere.

Elsewhere being the mental image of his cum trickling out of her fucked out pussy, his cock twitching at the thought. To be fair, he had tried to resist the mental image for a while, cleaning up what he had spilled before he continued drawing onto the cookies.

But his dick ached and the thought of jerking off onto some of these pretty little shapes before feeding them to her just wouldn’t leave him alone.

So, he had done it. The mental image of her eating them was enough to make him feel hot, then he thought about getting caught doing it by her. Biting his fist so he wouldn’t be too loud and make her suspicious, he came all over a few of the sweet treats in almost record time, quietly laughing.

To his surprise, she ate the second half too, grinning around it as she did.

“You got any more of that icing?” She asked, and just the tone of her voice made his dick twitch again. Her hands wandered below the hem of his baggy t-shirt, nails lightly scratching over the soft skin of his belly before finding the waistband of his pants.

Now this he hadn’t expected.

“Mhmm, I don’t know, baby.” Dieter said, putting down the plate of cookies onto the table next to him. “Wasted it all to make these for you, but maybe I have some left just for you.”

She giggled, biting her bottom lip as her thumbs hooked into the band of his pants and pulled them down to reveal his still soft dick. Of course he wasn’t wearing any underwear at home.

Easy access, he called it.

Scooting closer to the edge of the sofa, she ducked her head, sucking one of Dieter’s heavy balls into her mouth, hearing his breath hitch above her. One of her hands wrapped around his dick, slowly hardening in her palm as she played with his balls.

Dieter’s fingers curled into her hair, holding it back in a makeshift ponytail, watching in fascination as she licked and sucked at them with a low hum, grinning when her eyes found his.

This definitely was a better outcome than what he had imagined – having her laugh at his prank before getting mad that the kitchen looked like an absolute fucking mess.

Not getting him hard so she could suck his dick.

“You really like that icing, huh?” He asked with a lopsided smirk, watching how she took his half hard cock into her mouth while her hands continued to fondle his balls.

She nodded, getting wet at the feeling of him hardening in her mouth.

“Gonna be my own personal cookie to decorate?” Dieter asked, his hips rutting forward. Her mouth just felt too good, her tongue swirling around the head and sucking on it. “Fuck, you’re sweet like one.”

A short laugh left her before she took more of him into her mouth. “Yeah, gonna be your cookie, wanna be dripping in your icing.”

Dieter laughed, too, his hips canting up in time with the bobbing of her head, his groans becoming louder as he thought about his cum all over her face. Thick, white streaks painting her cheeks and lips.

Practically begging for it with those pretty eyes, he was unable to drag this out particularly long.

No, he had to decorate just one more.

“Gonna make you look like a cinnamon roll.” He rasped, his hips speeding up and seeing her become more frantic. “All sticky and sweet and, fuck-”

Spit dribbled down her chin as her lips released him with a small pop, her hands now wrapping around his slick length and pumping him. There was that lip bite again, stroking him right over her face with those eyes that just challenged him to cum all over her.

“C’mon, Dieter, I need your icing.” She whined, her brows knitting together in desperation as her hands worked him faster. “Please, baby. We can make some cream pie after, too.”

Oh, fuck.

Her words pushed him right over the edge, a whiny sound crawling up his throat as his cum shot all over her face and waiting tongue. Rope after rope, all while she kept stroking him to get to every last drop with a low, approving hum.

Sucking the tip into her mouth again after, just to make sure that she got all of the icing he had to spare, even when her tongue on his soft head threatened to overstimulate him.

“My favourite kind of icing.” She giggled, licking her lips before smacking them. The way Dieter looked down at her was both adorable and hot, almost like he was a kid that just got the best gift ever. “I’m so happy you still had some left for me, Dee.”

Snapping out of his trance of admiring his decorating work, he laughed, bending down to kiss her. Stealing all the air from her, based on her breathy laugh as he pushed her back onto the sofa, crawling over her.

Not minding the mess at all.

“Now I’m really interested in that cream pie.” He groaned as his tongue slipped against hers, tasting both the cookie and his cum on it. “Let me help with that.”

Her laughter turned into a moan as his thick fingers wandered into her sweatpants, all muffled by his mouth.

Baking definitely was her thing, just as decorating the goods was his.

There was no better way to get into the Christmas spirit than this.

#dieter bravo #dieter bravo fanfiction #dieter bravo x reader #dieter bravo x you #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #the bubble #kinkmas 2023 #my writing #pedrostories

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deanwritings · 1 year

Text

Flour, Flour Everywhere

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: Fluff.

Prompt: “…” “i can explain” “what did you do to my kitchen?”

Summary: Dean comes home to a very messy kitchen.

Word Count: 934

Gif:

A/N: Look at me writing fluff. Just a cute little piece based on a prompt I saw

Shit. This was not as easy as you thought it would be.

You run the back of your forearm across your brow, wiping away the beads of sweat that had started to form.

This looked so much easier in the Youtube video playing on your phone.

It had come across your screen last night when you couldn’t sleep and were in the bowels of the internet trying to find something that would help you relax enough to finally pass out.

But as “Apple Pie ASMR” played, not only was it deliciously relaxing, but it looked pretty easy. Which sparked the idea – why not bake a pie?

You tried your hand at baking over the years, never venturing outside of cookies, but you found baking relaxing, and figured there was a certain green-eyed hunter who would be very appreciative to have a freshly baked pie.

So when Dean headed out for a supply run this morning, you popped into the kitchen and got to work.

And boy, was it work.

You had pulled out almost every pot, pan, and appliance as you worked to mix and form the crust and render the apples. It sounded so simple, but Jesus Christ you had been at this almost an hour now and you still haven’t even gotten the crust dough in the oven yet.

But you take a deep breath and dive back into it, putting all of your strength into the counter as you use the roller you found stashed in the far back of a cabinet as you attempt, again, to even out the dough beneath you, and you groan as it continues to stick to your rolling pin.

More flour. Was what every website said if your dough was sticking, but every time you added more flour, it would just harden again, and you basically had to start over.

But you were in too deep, and you weren’t the type of person to give up when it got tough.

When the going got tough, the tough were going to make this god damn pie.

Dean wanderers down the hallway, grocery bags hanging from his fingertips as he takes heavy steps towards the kitchen. It was nice getting out of the bunker but sometimes it really sucked how long it took just to get some simple items since the bunker was so far out from town.

As he takes his next step, he hears a grumbled “for fuck’s sake,” the voice clearly belonging to you.

He picks up the pace, not worried, but curiosity carrying him the rest of the way to the kitchen as he approaches the entry, his steps faltering as he nearly loses his grip on the bags in his hands.

When he left about two hours ago, it was a sparkling clean kitchen. Exactly how he liked it, especially since he was really the only one who cooked among the three of them.

But now. Now it was a disaster.

The counters, usually clean and free of clutter, were covered in what had to be every piece of cookware in the kitchen. In between the limited space of bowls and pans was flour, butter, Dean had no idea what else but holy shit was it a mess.

You’re bent over a counter, your back to Dean, not having noticed his presence.

“What the hell did you do to my kitchen?” Dean roars as he finally steps into the catastrophe that is his kitchen. Yes, his kitchen. He spends the most time out of anyone in there, and prided himself on keeping it sparkling.

You jump up at his voice and spin around, flour flying around you.

He drops his bags on the table, being that there is no room anywhere else, keeping his hard gaze on you as he stalks closer.

“I can explain,” you hold up your hands as he stops in front of you.

He raises his eyebrows and nods, silently letting you know to continue.

Instead of answering, you spin around, and Dean frowns, but without any time to linger on his confusion, he takes a quick step back as you quickly twirl back, this time, with something in your hands.

Dean looks down in disbelief.

“Is that…” He points at it, his anger falling away.

You fold your lips and nod.

“Homemade apple pie.” You lift it up as a peace offering. “Fresh out of the oven.” You finish with a smirk.

Dean runs his tongue over his teeth, nodding as he decides if he’s going to accept your bribe.

“Fine,” he concedes, taking the tin from your hands. You reach behind you and return with a fork, with Dean grabs with an “ah.”

Dean hurries over to the table, pushing aside the grocery bags as he takes a seat, carefully placing the pie in front of him with the utmost care.

He gives his hands a rub, taking in the golden lattices and glistening apples laying underneath, his mouth watering at the sight.

He picks up the fork and digs in, steam billowing as he lifts the fork to his mouth, not waiting for it to cool before it shoves it in.

He takes a bite, the apples not mushing beneath his teeth, and an overwhelming taste of salt exploding over his tongue.

“Soooo,” you come around the island and rest against it. “How is it?” You look at him with gleaming eyes.

“Great, sweetheart,” he mumbles over uncooked apples, taking a hard swallow.

“Does this mean I’m forgiven?” You plead.

Dean just raises his eyebrows with a tight smile and shoots you a thumbs up.

Forever Tags

@iprobablyshipit91 @likesiriusly @kittyque @findingfitnessforme @wonderange @deansgoddess @captainemwinchester @xtina2191 @smoothdogsgirl @mogaruke @chin-up-love @tsunadesenjuuchiha @lyarr24 @globetrotter28 @krazykelly

#dean x reader #dean x y/n #dean x you #dean winchester #dean reader insert #dean imagine #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fic #dean winchester imagine #SPN #spn fic #spn fanfic #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #Supernatural fanfic #supernatural fic #reader insert #spn x reader

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rand0mfangurlstuff · 7 months

Text

I'll Look After You - Bucky x Y/N

This is my first ever fanfic. I dont know why I wrote this, I never ever thought I'd actually write a fic or post it. But this just wouldnt leave my head. I hope you enjoy and please give me feedback!

***********************************************************************

It had been a tough misson. They lost a lot of men. Bucky had gotten a bad concussion and broke two ribs. Despite Buckys protests that her was fine, he was put straight to the infirmary. He was told he would have to stay there for at least a week if not longer. At this news Bucky almost had a fit. He wanted to go back up in the air as soon as possible and 'show those Nazi pigs who's boss'. His protests went on deaf ears.

She noticed on the first night that he was awake much later than the other patients. She turned out the lights and told him to rest, to which he just nodded. At 4am when the other nurse came to take over; she noticed he was still awake. Surely soon sleep would take over him.

Bucky couldnt sleep. No, Bucky refused to sleep. With sleep came nightmares. Nightmares of torn off legs and burnt faces. Planes exploding right infront of his eyes. The sound of his men screaming in pain and fear. No. Bucky would not sleep.

The following night she was greeted to the same thing. All the men fast asleep and Major John Egan wide awake. Though it was clear by his sunken in eyes he was exhausted. He tried his best to hide his frequent yawns behind the book he was reading, but she could see and hear them clearly. 'Major Egan, you should be asleep by now.' 'I'm not tired.' he said as he fought back another yawn. 'You're exhausted. And your body needs sleep to recover. You'll never be cleared to get back in that plane if you dont sleep.' Noticing the stern look on her face Bucky decided to feign sleep so she would leave him alone. 'Fine, I'll go to sleep. Goodnight.' 'Goodnight Major.'

As much as he tried not to, Bucky did fall asleep as soon as he closed his eyes. Around forty minutes passed, forty minutes of blissful slumber. Cradled among the warm blankets and soft pillows of the infirmay; his body was totally serene. His mind however, was in turmoil. As the nightmares came once again, Bucky started to cry out in his sleep. 'Curt! Curt! Engine 3! Buck...' She heard him straight away, he wasnt the first pilot to have these types of dreams. His body thrashed against the bed. 'Major Egan, its okay, Major wake up.'

He shot upright in his bed with a scream. He wasnt flying the misson. He was in bed, with two thin arms wrapped around his torso. He looked at her then, really looked at her. She was scared. A shocked and timid look on her face. Was she scared of him? 'I'm sorry, I dont know what-' 'You had a nightmare. It's okay. It's normal.' Normal. Bucky did not feel normal. He had always been able to keep his cool. Not feel a thing. Now all he could do was feel. Feel the ache in his soul and the ache in his ribs. 'I'm sorry Nurse...' 'Y/N' she said with a warm smile. She was sitting on the edge of his bed. He hadnt seen her this up close before. She had long hair, it looked soft. Her eyes were kind, and her gentle smile made him feel something he wasnt sure of. 'Y/N' he played with her name on his tongue, he liked the way it sounded. It suited her perfectly.

He tried to sit up against the headboard, make himself look less vulnerable. As he moved he gasped at the stabbing pain in his ribs. 'God damn!' 'Easy there Major, let me help.' She adjusted his pillows and helped prop him up. She was so close he could smell her perfume. Warm, vanilla, like a freshly baked cookie. But also spicy. He felt intoxicated. He missed the last thing she said to him he was in such a trance. 'I'm sorry what did you say?' With concern all over her pretty face, she said 'I'm just going to get you some more pain meds okay?' she turned and walked to the medicine cabinet.

He took a deep breath and tried to calm his heart rate. He wasnt sure if it was going so fast because of the nightmare, or her. She returned a moment later with two painkillers and a glass of water. 'Here you go Major.' He took the pills from her delicate hand. 'Bucky. You can call me Bucky.' He swallowed the pills. 'Mm Bucky. Cool nickname.' His heart skipped a beat hearing his name from her mouth. And she thought it was cool? He felt like a fourteen year old again. 'You should go back to sleep Major. You need your rest.' Bucky knew there wasnt a hope in hell of him going back to sleep, but he smiled and nodded so to not dissapoint her.

An hour later she was doing her rounds, checking on each patient; most of who were sleeping. Except one. Major John 'Bucky' Egan. 'Bucky, why arent you sleeping?' He lifted the book in his hands 'It's just this book Y/N, I gotta know how it ends!' She smirked, 'I saw you finish that book yesterday.' His face grew red. He'd been caught. But he couldnt possibly humiliate himself by admitting he was afraid of going to sleep for fear of his own mind.

Y/N could see it. Just as she'd seen it plenty times before. Though this case was definetly the worst. She didnt know much about Bucky, but the way the other nurses talked about his charm and swagger made her this he was not the type of man who would willingly admit his fear. She wouldnt force him to either. She grabbed the chair next to his bed and pulled it closer. She picke up the book from his lap and opened it on the first page and started reading. 'In my younger and more vulnerable years my father gave me some advice that I've been turning over in my mind...' 'What are you doing?' The confusion on Buckys face would have made a great picture. 'You've read this book twice in two days? I have to see what all the fuss is about.' She continued to read out loud in a soft melodic voice. A voice so soothing and gentle it sent Bucky straight to sleep. Even after he nodded off Y/N kept reading. Hoping that her voice could reach him in his dreams and keep him away from the darkness that lurked in his mind.

The next morning, Bucky awoke to a sight so rare, so unthinkable, he had to blink several times to make sure it was real. Y/N was still by his side, asleep on the small wooden chair, her cardigan draped over her. She had stayed, stayed by his side all night long. It was at this moment Bucky realised this was the first night in a long time he'd slept the whole night through without a single nightmare. Because she was there to protect him.

#masters of the air #mota #mota fanfic #masters of the air fanfic #john egan x oc #john egan x y/n #john bucky egan #bucky egan #gale clevin #masters of the air fan fiction #callum turner #i cant believe i wrote this #my first fanfic #i hope this is good #please give feedback #Masters of the air fanfiction

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thinkingaboutbetterdays · 3 months

Text

the mystery woman. ( sean renard x reader )

gif belongs to me

Adalind was stunned by the time Diana finished explaining her drawing. In the center was her, surrounded by Nick, herself, Sean, and "Daddy's girlfriend" who had never been mentioned until now. She wasn't shocked that Sean had a woman in his life, as the Captain always seemed to have someone floating in his life before he distanced himself in favor of a physical relationship rather than an emotional one. But from Diana's explanation, it seemed Sean had kept you around for a record-breaking amount of time and Adalind had to admit she was curious about who you were and why after nearly eight months, she was only hearing about your relationship now.

"I can take you to her if you want." Diana smiled, "She works at the bakery downtown, and keeps a table reserved just for me."

Adalind knew there would be a fight if Sean realized she was looking into his private life - their civility only surrounded matters involving their daughter. Anything else was an instant battle of wits, insults flying across the room at breakneck speed. But from Diana's expression, there was no choice. They had to go to the bakery.

The blonde looked around as she followed Diana inside. It was filled with mouth-watering scents and a cozy atmosphere - friendly given how many knew Diana who greeted them politely before pushing her way to the front of the line.

"Diana -"

"Hi, Y/N!" The young girl beamed when you exited the kitchen with a tray of freshly baked cookies. You set them on the counter ready to be drizzled in chocolate and dusted your hands on your apron, sending Diana a bright smile.

"Well, howdy, princess." You greeted, holding your apron as you curtseyed much to Diana's amusement. You spotted Adalind who glanced at her daughter, meeting your gaze with a raised eyebrow, but your smile never faltered. "Hi, you must be Adalind. It's great to finally meet you. I've heard so much about you."

Adalind shook your hand, "I haven't heard a word about you."

"He isn't much of a sharing person. But then again, neither am I." You looked at Diana who was eyeing the freshly baked cookies, knowing it was your recipe. And ever since you had baked cookies to pass the time until her father returned home from work, attempting to bond with the young princess who was wary of you at first, she was always eager for more. "How about you two take a seat and I can bring you something over? On the house, of course."

Adalind ordered coffee while Diana chose a muffin, and insisted her mother should try it. You smiled as they headed to the table that was empty all day for staff breaks, or surprise family visits like today, ensuring they always had a seat. You entered the kitchen as Sean entered the bakery, his gaze dancing around the room until they landed on Diana and Adalind, who agreed with her daughter that the muffin was the best she ever had. It was clear to the blonde how much Diana liked you, and given her past with her father's 'girlfriends' it was nothing short of a miracle which only added to her intrigue.

He approached the table and Diana greeted her father whose narrowed eyes were focused on Adalind. "What are you doing here?"

"Eating a muffin." Adalind shrugged.

She knew there was more he wanted to say, but he wouldn't with Diana around, nor with so many witnesses. But his glare spoke volumes about how he felt about her presence in the bakery, his grip on the back of the chair tightening as he controlled his temper.

"Diana told me about her, and I was curious." She explained. "That's it."

You approached the table, and Sean stood straighter, turning as you set a mug of coffee on the table. You set a glass down next to Diana who thanked you.

"You're welcome." You looked at Sean, "Anything for you, Captain? Pumpkin Spice? Ooh, nutmeg?"

Sean shook his head, "Coffee."

You rolled your eyes although Adalind knew it was in jest. "As black as your soul, got it."

The blonde looked at Sean when he sat down, but his focus was on watching you return behind the counter to brew his coffee. Diana chose this moment to show him her drawing and he could see how much she had matured this past year - before she would have killed you and Nick for keeping him and Adalind apart, but now she valued the large family she had. And seeing her parents happy, even when it wasn't together, she learned to accept it.

"So how did you meet?" Adalind spoke up.

Sean chose to be vague in his reply, hoping she would back off, "I come here for coffee sometimes."

But Diana hadn't noticed the tension between them, offering more information than he was willing to give. "He comes here every day. Morning, lunch, and after work."

Adalind raised an amused eyebrow, "Is that right?"

Diana nodded. "That's how they met. Y/N moved here a year ago and took over the bakery." You caught her gaze and waved her over, and she grinned, leaving to choose a cookie to decorate.

Sean looked away from a smirking Adalind, his eyes scanning the counter finding you weren't there. She observed the way he searched for you and her smirk faltered, her eyes widening in surprise.

"I never thought I'd live to see the day Sean Renard fell in love."

He rolled his eyes and opened his mouth to respond harshly when Diana returned with you a few steps behind. You held out his coffee and he thanked you, his posture tensing under the untrained eye - but Adalind had known him for a long time and could see how protective he was over you.

You rested your hands on his shoulders, standing behind his chair, and Adalind noticed the way his gaze softened, a smile on your lips as you arranged with Diana to stock ingredients this weekend during her stay with Sean so the three of you could bake together.

"You're living together?" Adalind spoke louder than she intended, stunned at the news.

"Uh-huh. But only for two weeks. Although it feels longer." Adalind smiled when you looked at Sean who raised an eyebrow at your answer, "I'm kidding," You squeezed his shoulders and his lips tugged upwards at the gesture.

She finished her coffee, thanking you as she got to her feet. "We should get going."

Diana pouted, but after being reassured that she would see you soon, she followed her mother who sent you a small smile.

"It was nice meeting you."

"You too." She truly meant that.

You looked at Sean when the two blondes left, "Those two are scarily alike."

"Tell me about it." He sighed, and you noticed the drawing on the table. "Diana drew it." He explained when you picked it up. "That's why Adalind came here, to find out who you were."

You smiled down at the drawing before meeting his gaze, "Does this mean I can sleep peacefully without fear that she will try to kill me?" Sean had once told you about how she had killed his mistress, and after explaining that your relationship with her father was different, she had many questions about how you started dating and if you were going to hurt him. She was protective over her parents and from the story he told you about the murder, Diana was the last person you wanted to upset. It took a while to get used to her powers, but Sean could see that your initial apprehension became curiousness and then admiration and he knew how protective you were of his daughter.

Sean chuckled, "I'd say so." He placed a hand on your back and you stepped into his side, smiling down at him. "Why don't we have dinner tonight? Eat in. Grants a little privacy."

You nodded, "We could double date."

Immediately his expression changed and you giggled behind the drawing, watching as he relaxed, realizing you weren't serious.

"What did you have in mind?" You asked.

"Let's just say, that I've enjoyed having you all to myself. And I'm not ready to share just yet."

You leaned down to kiss him softly, placing a hand on his cheek. His cell phone rang and he groaned when you pulled away. "It could be important." You reasoned with a smile.

He sighed as he answered the call, and you picked up Adalind's empty coffee mug, looking at him when he stood. "There's been a development on a case."

You sent him a smile, nodding to show you understood. "Okay."

"I could ignore it and we could head home early..." He whispered suggestively and you bit the inside of your cheek.

"We both know we'd never make it home, and I'd rather my regulars didn't see me naked in a steamed-up car."

He grunted quietly in agreement. "I'll pick you up after work?"

"Sounds great." Your smile elicited a genuine smile from him, which wasn't common when he was out in the open where his enemies could see. He had explained it all to you, his past and the threats he still faced, and you understood his reasons for keeping your relationship a secret as did Adalind who had observed you both for less than twenty minutes. It was for your protection. "I love you."

He mouthed his reciprocation and you closed your eyes when he kissed you. "I'll see you tonight."

"I'll be counting down the minutes." You teased as he headed to the door with his takeaway cup of coffee. After he entered the bakery for the first time since you took over you had learned to brew his perfect cup of coffee and he found himself ditching the instant coffee at the precinct in favor of seeing you and buying a decent cup of coffee.

Sean looked back at you as he walked out and you smiled before heading to the kitchen to check on the pastries you were baking. You pinned the drawing with a magnet and smiled softly before getting back to work, checking the clock now and then with excitement as your date grew closer.

#sean renard #sean renard x reader #grimm

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rottenpumpkin13 · 1 year

Note

Zangst stanny here! Zack has had a tiring, mind-tearing mission, and comes home exhausted. He doesn't feel like playing it up today. How do the firsts react to seeing a rougher side of their 'puppy'?

No one who joined ShinRa's ranks priming their shoulders to bear the weight of a heroic title expected days like these. Zack could've filled his stomach with lies to his heart's content, feeding his ignorance with the rotten fruits of his labor—the bloodshed in the name of ShinRa's endless conquests.

He told himself before that he had seen it coming, that he already expected the hypocrisy of it all, that he knew SOLDIER was nothing but an oxymoron.

At the end of the day, when the knit sweater was pulled from his aching body, it plopped on the floor with a splat. It was soaked in blood, not sweat.

It was not his blood. It was not someone else's blood. To say it was someone else's blood staining his bathroom tile a sickening crimson would have been a kinder end to give his peace of mind.

The truth was: Zack had lost count after his blade gave the fourth body it's final kiss of death.

The hot water was supposed to have been merciful on his injuries. Another lie. He hissed, pulling away from the boiling stream, fingers finding the closest bruise to soothe beneath his cold, trembling fingers.

'So much for a relaxing shower,' he thought to himself, skimming his closet for a pair of fresh clothes. He tugged at a black hoodie, considering it. He couldn't handle something that displayed his skin and every bruise and bandaged injury he had sustained during the mission.

It was bad enough that everyone knew where he had gone, what he had done. He didn't need the added headache.

But the glaring red ShinRa logo slapped on the hoodie didn't agree with him—literally. Nausea corroded his stomach the minute he noticed it.

Zack shut his eyes and snatched the second hoodie he felt, slamming his closet doors behind him. He stumbled out of his apartment, pulling the hoodie on. It was a thick, maroon one he was pretty sure had been stolen from Sephiroth a few months back.

He scoffed the moment he saw himself in the mirror. Baggy clothes weren't his style, and covering every inch of his body with fabric wasn't going to hide the sins etched three inches deep into his skin.

He didn't know why he bothered. The guys would all know by now. In fact, Zack suspected that was the very reason why Angeal called him up to his apartment.

"Come up once you're settled down, let's hang out."

That's what Angeal had said over the phone when he was on the helicopter flying back to the base.

Oh how Zack wished he could hang out—hang himself out to dry. Maybe then he would've stopped feeling the phantom rivulets of blood clinging to his face and arms and legs and hands and feet and—

"You look like hell," Genesis snorted, leaning against the door frame.

Zack blinked. How had he gotten here again? Why was he here?

"Hello?" Genesis snapped two fingers in front of his face. "Earth to puppy. Hablas inglés?"

Had it been any other day, Zack would've played along to the hell comment and joked that he had just gotten back. But today all he could do was blink up at the man and manage a small smile.

"Is Seph here too?" He asked, pushing past him and entering the apartment.

"In the kitchen!" Sephiroth called out—the perks of having an ultra-enhanced sense of hearing.

The ambiance in the apartment was...wrong. Zack felt the unease slap him in the face the minute he saw a platter of tacos on the coffee table, his favorite movie paused on the TV, and sensed the aroma of freshly baked cookies wafting through the air.

Sephiroth and Angeal came out, the former wiping his hands with a dish towel and matching Angeal's warm smile. Angeal carried two plates of Zack's favorites—M&M-chip cookies and multiple stacks of pancakes.

"Hey! Hang on, let me put these down," Angeal set the plates beside the other platter. "How was the mission?"

Sephiroth stood behind Zack, curiously running his fingers through the younger man's hair. Zack did his best to ignore Genesis's pinning eyes as the redhead stared at him from the archway leading into the living room.

"It was fine," Zack replied. You already know how it went, why bother asking?

"No hair gel?" Sephiroth asked, smoothing out a knot in Zack's hair.

Zack reached up, touching his own hair as he pulled his self away from Sephiroth's touch.

"Um. I forgot," Zack replied, eyes falling to the video game disc on the coffee table. They want to distract me. They think they can distract me.

"You're acting strange, Puppy," Genesis said. He knows.

"Gen, don't start," Angeal snapped at him, reaching out to tie the draw strings on Zack's hoodie. "Don't listen to him. You're okay, right?"

Zack swallowed hard, nodding. "Yeah, I'm fine."

Sephiroth's hand fell on his shoulders and Zack could've sworn it weighed about a thousand pounds.

"Are you sure, Zack?" Sephiroth asked, face filled with genuine concern. He knows. "You can talk to us."

"Sephiroth, stop." Angeal pulled at the draw strings, tying them roughly. "You're fine. You're alive, so you're fine." He knows.

Zack felt a third hand on his skin. Genesis had slunk forth silently like a wraith. His fingers touched a bruise on the side of Zack's neck.

"Zack..." Genesis's fingers were cold. "What is this?"

Angeal and Sephiroth stopped what they were doing and moved beside Genesis. Zack was paralyzed where he stood. They pulled back the fabric. They know.

"He's covered in bruises," a voice whispered. Sephiroth.

"From the mission?" Genesis asked, voice filled with concern.

Angeal started pawing at his body, feeling his skin through the hoodie. He was frantic, and Zack could've sworn the older man's heartbeat was just as audible as his own.

"Where else did you get hurt? Did you watch yourself up already?" Angeal asked.

"I can help in case you haven't already," Sephiroth chimed in.

"Or if you want, I can cast cure," Genesis offered.

They all knew. They knew from the beginning. And yet they willingly watched Zack take the mission knowing he would have to do what he did. They knew. They knew, they knew, they knew they knew—

"Zack!" Angeal's stern voice dragged him out of his suffocating mind scape.

Zack looked up, finding that all three Firsts were staring back at him, waiting for an answer.

But Zack couldn't do it anymore. He slowly shook his head.

"Fuck you guys," he spat.

And with that, Zack left the apartment. No one dared call after him. No one dared follow him. Wether it was because they were too stunned to or because they knew it was a lost cause, Zack didn't know. Zack didn't care.

You see, Zack's problem was that he wanted to be a hero, but there was nothing heroic about being someone else's monster.

#ff7 #ffvii #final fantasy 7 #sephiroth #ffvii crisis core #genesis rhapsodos #angeal hewley #zack fair #final fantasy vii #ff7 crisis core #writing

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hotmentransformed · 2 years

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The Night Before Christmas

'Twas the night before Christmas when all through the house, not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse... you were all alone for the holidays. While your friends managed to get home and were with their families or decided to spend the night partying until sunrise, you were stuck alone at home. This wasn't your plan for this year. Your stupid boss wouldn't let you take off the day before, so you had to work on Christmas Eve. You had planned on flying back home to your family after work had finished, but a surprise snowstorm canceled your flight back home, and you had no way of getting there. While your parents were obviously upset that you wouldn’t be joining them, they couldn’t be angry at you, because it wasn’t your fault. You couldn't control the weather.

Trying to find something to keep you occupied, you had spent the evening baking cookies for Santa Claus. Obviously, you were old enough to understand that Santa didn’t exist, but you had baked cookies for him every year with your mother since you were a kid, and Christmas Eve would feel incomplete without the smell of freshly-baked chocolate chip cookies. However, once the baking was done and the kitchen was cleaned, the silence that filled your house was deafening.

Placing the tray of cookies and a cold glass of milk by the fireplace, you poured yourself a large glass of eggnog and headed into your bedroom to put on a Christmas movie on your laptop. Maybe watching other people in the festive spirit will bring you some joy. Scrolling through all of the streaming services you had, you were unsatisfied with the array of films. You had seemingly seen everything. Finally, you stumbled upon that old 90s movie with Tim Allen, The Santa Clause. The idea of this toy salesman turning into Santa and learning the true meaning of Christmas was so insane! But nonetheless, you remember liking the movie when you watched it many years ago, so you decided to press play. As the movie played, you continued to drink your eggnog. Eventually, you finished your first glass and went back to get a second. With every sip of the eggnog, you found yourself becoming more and more relaxed. The movie was funny enough, but you found your eyes gradually getting heavier. Slowly, everything faded to black.

Cough cough

You awoke suddenly to the sound of coughing. You jolted upwards. Your laptop was still warm on your legs, and the movie was still playing; it was only halfway finished. Throwing your computer off to the side, you hurriedly stumbled out of bed to see what was happening. As you turned the corner, you saw it. There, standing in your living room, was some fat old guy dressed as Santa Claus. In one hand was one of the cookies you had baked earlier, and the other was clawing at his throat. His cough had stopped, but he was still gasping for air. He was choking. Before you had time to react, his knees gave out and he stumbled backward, landing on the floor. His massive body shook the house, and then, everything was still. It was silent. He wasn’t moving. Stepping forward and raising your foot, you tried to nudge him, to see if he was still alive. Instead of meeting his leg, your foot seemed to move right through him, instead catching the fabric of his red suit. Before your very eyes, this dead man who had broken into your house seemingly dissolved into thin air. All that was left of him was the half-eaten cookie and his outfit.

You had to call the police. A man had just broken into your house. Running to your counter and grabbing your cell phone, you raced to the front door to see that it was locked. Running to the side windows, you saw that they were… locked. Walking to the back door, sure enough, it was locked too. Looking at your alarm system, you saw that it was armed. How did this guy get into your house? You put your phone down. Walking back into your living room, you stepped over the red suit and stuck your hand up the chimney. Sure enough, the flue was open. Oh my god. Did the real Santa Claus just choke on your cookies?

Now what? You definitely can’t call the police. They wouldn’t believe you that Santa just died in your room and his body vanished. Sure, you were a little tipsy from the eggnog, but knew what you saw. No one would believe you, still. Hell, you wouldn’t have believed yourself! It sounded like something directly out of a Christmas movie.

You paused. Like something out of a Christmas movie. Looking down at the outfit the fat old man had just been wearing, you thought back to the movie you were watching. It could have been the eggnog talking, but why couldn’t you just try his clothes on? I mean what was there to lose? It’s not like there was actually a dead person in your living room; only his clothes.

Looking at his hat, that had once been on his head, you picked it up and placed it onto your coffee table. You sat on your couch to deliberate what your next course of action should be: call the police or try on Santa’s clothes. Staring at this hat and looking beyond at the full outfit which lay strewn on the floor, you made up your mind. If nothing else, maybe this will put you in a festive mood.

Standing up and placing the hat on your head, you instantly were overcome by an intense gurgling in your stomach. You felt so incredibly bloated. You rubbed your hands on your stomach, only to feel it rapidly expanding outwards in front of you. Bringing your hands to your chest, you felt it sag as your pecs grew into mounds of fat drooping from your torso.

Your ass grew enormous, stretching the fabric of your pants and tearing the seams. Falling backward onto your couch, you heard as the legs buckled under your growing weight. Your thighs splayed further and further outward, ripping your pants and pushing your legs farther and farther apart. Your fingers swelled into large sausages and your feet grew massive.

The hair across your body lightened to a gray, before becoming as white as snow. Your upper lip itched as white hairs pushed their way out, growing long and meeting up with the hairs forcing their way from your chin. Soon, you sported a large, white, bushy beard. Wrinkles began etching their way across your face and body as you aged rapidly. Standing up from the couch, you stumbled as your center of gravity changed with your massive weight gain. Slowly, you managed to bring your body to the clothes of the former Santa Claus. Reaching down and grabbing the fabric, you pulled your blubberous legs through the velvet pants, shoving your giant feet into the brown leather boots. You lifted the heavy suit jacket over your shoulders and massive beach-ball stomach, before adorning it with a buckled belt. You brought your massive fingers into the white gloves and lifted his glasses onto your face.

You looked exactly like him. You were the spitting image of Santa Claus. Looking at the tray of cookies that you had baked earlier and the big guy had just choked on, you decided it’d be best to pass on the cookies tonight. Instead, you turned towards the chimney, ready to get back to your sleigh and deliver the rest of the presents before sunrise. Bringing festive cheer and joy to the world was enough to make an old man like you laugh gaily with glee:

Ho, Ho, Ho!

#santa tf #male tf #transform #transformation #male transformation #santa claus tf #christmas tf #christmas transformation #santa transformation #santa claus transformation #weight gain #weight tf #age progression

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peachesofteal · 2 years

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Beltane

A Witchling world one shot.

Morpheus/reader Witchling masterlist – AO3 3.8k words Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, brief descriptions of sex, angst, sad feelings, cigar smoking, discussions of death and dying. Notes: Beltane is the modernized/bastardized/whateverized version of Bealtaine but for ease of understanding purposes I just wrote it as Beltane. Your grief threatens to extinguish your glow, and a new tradition is born in The Dreaming.

The sun was always shining here. Bright and cheery, it filtered through the cottage’s windows, beaming down onto your face every day it rose. Obnoxious. This morning was no different, and you buried your face down in your pillow to try to escape the blinding rays. Maybe if you closed your eyes, you could go back to sleep. You grumbled aloud, cursing the cottage for its stubbornness that has put you in this predicament. No matter what you tried, The Dreaming would not allow you to conjure black out curtains for your room. Let you have a king size bed? Sure. Conjure a whole, freshly tilled garden out back and seeds so you could start planting? Go for it. But black out curtains so you can sleep in? Guess not.

You shove your head back into the pillow when you hear the tapping at the glass, Matthew’s tell-tale knock forcing you up with a sigh.

“Are you working in the library today?” he asks as he settles on the kitchen table, his usual spot for his morning treat. Matthew has been reaping the benefits of having a recently deceased person living in The Dreaming. You baked, often. You made muffins, cookies, scones, anything and everything, passing the goods out to residents of The Dreaming or leaving them in the library for Lucienne and others. Matthew always got first dibs, flying down to the little cottage past Fiddler’s Green almost everything morning to say hi and get his snack.

“I am.” You put a blueberry scone on a plate in front of him, and he makes a pleased trilling sound in his beak.

“Lord Morpheus is in a foul mood.” He advises you, but you shrug. It won’t affect you. Morpheus avoids you like the plague. You tried not to take it too personally, he was a King after all, with an entire realm to look after and care for. You would sometimes probe Lucienne or Matthew about his whereabouts and they would always look at you as if you had grown three heads.

“Lord Morpheus is incredibly busy with the care of The Dreaming.”

“The boss isn’t really one for social visits.”

You had only seen him a handful of times since you came here. He would stop in the library on the days you were working, inquiring about how you were and if you were in need of anything. Sometimes, he would linger after you assured him you were okay, his voice changing from the sharp edge of a monarch to something softer as he asked you if you were ‘settling in alright’. His aloofness confused you, and it was a far cry from the level of intimacy you shared before your death. You were surprised to realize that you missed that level of affection from him, your mind sometimes wandering to the memory of him fucking you open, or his mouth lavishing your clit on the throne, his face covered in your orgasm. Let me taste your light.

You sigh. Sadly, the only thing he seemed to be interested in lately was if you were ‘well’ and settling in.

You supposed you were adjusting okay. It’s been months since you died and woke up in a bed with an anxious, starry eyed Morpheus hovering over you, holding you hand. Your fingers find the black pearl strung around your neck as you remember the hushed conversation you had, your grip on his unyielding as he assuaged your fears.

“So, am I like, a ghost or something?” “No.” He strokes a soft pattern on your skin, eyes searching yours. “Am I a dream?” his lips quirk, one corner lifting slightly into a small smile. “No, witchling. You are no dream.” “But I’m dead?”

“Your mortal life has ended. The pearl you wear keeps your mind, body and spirit preserved so that you may exist in The Dreaming, for however long you choose.”

You did choose. You were not ready to seek whatever lay beyond the end of life; that you knew for certain. Instead of going to what he called the Sunless Lands, his sister’s realm, you decided to stay in The Dreaming.

“And my magic?” “Your magic remains intact; however, it is a part of The Dreaming now, just as you are. You will find it different than you remember.”

It was different. Vastly so. You were surprisingly more powerful, your magic bending and weaving within the frame of the realm, your ability to call upon it eased, the confines of your mortal body no longer a barrier between you and your power. It was intoxicating. You hadn’t expected to retain your magic, let alone have this much unfettered access.

He trusts you. You concluded with a startling revelation one day as you bent The Dreaming so you could conjure a claw foot tub in the cottage. He could easily stop you from using magic in his realm with the snap of his fingers. But he doesn’t. The knowledge settled in your heart with a light thump, the idea that Morpheus held such confidence in you warming your cheeks with pride.

Matthew caws, snapping you out of your memory with a jump and you give him an apologetic smile as you get up to pour yourself more coffee.

“I’m sorry to hear he’s in a pissy mood. I know that probably makes your day hell.” Matthew’s head bobs, his version of a shrug.

“He’s been worse. At least it’s not raining.” You sigh. You wouldn’t hate a little rain right now. You keep having to conjure giant buckets of water to care for your garden. “And it’s about to be summer in the Waking World, which has been nice. It’s not frigid cold every time I have to go there.” You freeze. About to be summer.

“Do you know the date?” you ask mildly, the reflection in your coffee staring up at you. “I think it’s April 27th.” A pang of sadness so strong comes out of left field and nearly knocks you senseless. You can practically hear the echo of your mother and her sisters in the cottage, their weeklong preps for Beltane bringing them together every year under one roof, your grandmother micromanaging them while she forced you to sit and listen to her recount years of tradition. Cétshamhain is your history, child. You’d be wise to listen to it’s lessons. You can feel the smart of tears in your eyes as you close them. Would you have seen them? In the Sunless lands? Did you give up an opportunity to be reunited with your family? Would you just have gone straight to hell? Would they be so pissed at you over the grimoire? You think about everything probably going on at home, the community preparing for the festival, boughs of yellow flowers lining doors and windows. You didn’t have many friends when you were alive, but you were known, and always welcomed on Beltane. Longing thrums in your chest, the feeling so vibrant that it has tears falling down your cheeks before you can get a handle on yourself. Matthew caws, alarmed.

“Hey, you okay?” you shake it off, forcing the wistfulness from your limbs as if you’re stretching out sore muscles.

“Yeah. Fine, just got distracted. Sorry.” You pop the last of your scone in your mouth and pack up the leftovers for Lucienne. “We should probably get going.”

A dark cloud of hangs over your head the rest of the day. You tuck yourself into a corner with the stack of miscellaneous books Lucienne handed to you, taking your time finding where they belong. Your mind is stuck, trapped in an endless loop of thoughts of your family, the festival, your own death. Did you make a mistake? Did you sacrifice an eternity of being with your family to stay here? Would this ever feel like home? Your hand grips the pearl around your neck tightly.

“Excuse me?” you jump, startled by the small voice of a dream. A wraith like girl stands a few feet from you, her body translucent like a ghost. You recognize her right away; you’ve seen her many times in The Dreaming. She’s visited your cottage with Cain and Abel in tow. You think you’d consider her a friend, even. You relax at the sight of her face, and she gives you an apologetic smile. “Lucienne mentioned that you might be able to help me find a book?” She gives you the name of the dreamer she is researching, and you motion for her to follow you.

“Of course.” You locate the volume in question quickly and go to pull it from where it sits on the shelf when she speaks again.

“Are you alright?” Your fingers dig into the leather-bound spine, and your force breath in and out through your nose.

“Yes.” The false cheer in your voice is flimsy at best, and she gives you an odd look. “Did you need anything else?”

“No, this is it. Thank you.” her smile is genuine as she bids you goodbye. “It was good to see you.” she adds over her shoulder, and you return the sentiment. You drag yourself off to settle back into a corner, this time making sure you couldn’t be found.

You puff the cigar slowly, the cherry and wood flavor of the smoke warming your mouth as you attempt to blow circles from your lips. You had finished up late today, the sun already set by the time you left, and you stumbled upon Merv smoking under a stone archway. Just your luck. You had always liked the taste of a cigar.

“Like this, kid.” You passed it back and he demonstrated, earning him a laugh as you watched smoke rings disappear into the night sky.

“Okay, okay. Let me try.” You’re just about to take a pull when the swing of a familiar black coat in the dark catches your eye, and your spine immediately straightens. Merv clears his throat with a cough.

“Er, hey Boss.” Merv says. Your eyes look down to your feet, fingers still clutching the lit cigar.

“Mervyn. There is an issue in the library that requires your attention.” Merv stands with a huff, and you hand the cigar back to him with a slight grimace. He grumbles under his breath as he stalks off.

“Hello.” Morpheus stands stiffly before where you’re sitting, his shoulders high and tight, teeth gnashed together tensely. You chew on the inside of your cheek, the tingling in your nose nearly making your eyes water with the need to sneeze. What’s his deal?

“Hi.”

“May I sit?”

“It’s your realm.” Your voice is bitter and rough. He ignores it.

“How are you faring?” you beat back the urge to roll your eyes.

“I’m good.”

“Are you?” You tilt your head in confusion. “You have become a beloved figure in The Dreaming, witchling. The residents are eager to voice their concerns when they fear something may be wrong with their dear friend.” Gossip. He means the residents have been gossiping about you and your terrible mood. Conflict roars in your ears as guilt wars with your sadness. You regret being so short with the wraith from earlier, you hope you haven’t hurt her feelings.

“I’m fine. Just going through some stuff.” You’re not particularly eager to share how you feel with him. He’s been practically a stranger for months, and now he wants to know how you’re faring?

“Stuff.” The word sounds foreign as it falls from his mouth. He studies your face for a moment before his head snaps in the other direction, eyes focusing on something far off in the distance, and he stands in a hurry. “I apologize, I must attend-“ you wave your hand.

“Go. It’s not like I’m going anywhere.” You chuckle drily. Something dark flashes across his features before he’s evaporating in a cloud of shadow and you’re alone again.

The next morning, you are returning from a walk with the wisps when your nose starts to tingle. The sensation jerks your head up, eyes scanning in every direction for the Endless that you know must be somewhere close by. When you step out of the woods and into the clearing where the cottage sits, you’re surprised to see him standing on the porch, waiting for you.

“Are you well?” he asks as you rest a foot on the bottom step, looking up at him. Something is different. He looks, almost nervous?

“I am. Are you?” you answer quickly, unsure what to do with him lingering so awkwardly on the porch.

“I am.”

“That’s good.” You glance around as the tips of your ears burn. “Do you uh, wanna come inside?”

“Yes.” You gulp nervously as you gesture for him to step forward, your legs a little shaky as you follow him through the door. It occurs to you that he hasn’t been here since you’ve… upgraded the cottage, so to speak. What if he hates it? What if he doesn’t approve? The cottage is his, it’s a part of his realm. What if he doesn’t want you to change it? You glance around in a panic before closing your eyes to steel your nerves.

“You have made changes.” Your throat tightens as you wring your hands together and nod.

“Yup. Ah, just a few. To kind of modernize it. And I wanted a bathtub.” You rush to explain. He nods thoughtfully.

“I am pleased you are making it your home.” The celestial sparks that are his eyes met yours, and your skin ripples with goosebumps. Is it hot in here? His expression grows somber. “I regret that I have not been able to spend more time with you, witchling. It occurs to me that you may be suffering.”

“What? No, I’m not suffering.”

“It is natural to mourn. You have lost your mortal life.” You don’t understand how he knows, but he does. The pulse of sadness beats under your skin. “I wish to ask you if you would spend the evening with me, tomorrow.” You peer up at him slack jawed. Your heart takes off at a gallop, excited, before it comes crashing to a stop. He feels bad for you.

“Do you pity me, Morpheus?” your tone is flat.

“No, but I have neglected you. You have been hurting and I… have not been here. I would like to remedy my mistake.” You purse your lips, and shrug. Be cool, be cool. Don’t squeal.

“Okay. Sure.” He smiles at you, one of his small ones, the kind that only lifts the corners of his eyes slightly, but it still melts you to your core.

He does not linger after your agreement, departing quickly to attend something in the realm. As he goes, he brings your knuckles to his lips like he did that day you woke up here, the feeling of his touch soothing and igniting something inside your heart.

You spend your day in the library, performing your usual tasks for Lucienne. Oddly, there are less today than there ever are, but you don’t question it as you’re grateful it means you’ll be able to slip out earlier.

There’s a note scrawled on brittle paper sitting on your kitchen table when you finally make it back to your cottage.

Please accompany Matthew to Fiddler’s Green at sunset. I will join you later.

“Matthew?” you call out. A little caw sounds from your loveseat.

“Right here.”

“What’s going on in Fiddler’s Green?” you’re perplexed. What is happening?

“It’s a surprise.” Matthew says and you immediately become nervous. You hate surprises. You bitch about it as you change, fussing with yourself in the mirror while Matthew tries to assure you that this is a good surprise, and that you’ll like it. You’re still putting up a fight about as you both leave the cottage, the wisps lighting the way in the dusk of the setting sun.

When you crest the hill that looks down on the valley of Fiddler’s your breath catches in your throat. Your feet become immobile, and you stand quietly in shock, trying to register what is happening.

“What is this?” You turn to Matthew, your face confused. You can’t quite wrap your head around what you’re seeing. But when you do, when you make the connections, your face scrunches up with emotion.

Your vision grows blurry with tears as you watch the residents of The Dreaming move between large pyres. Music drifts in the air, the beat of drums vibrating through the ground, the voices of dreams and nightmares blending together as one.

Beltane.

You nearly cry as The Dreaming gives you the honor of lighting the first pyre. The residents gather around, each with their own piece of wood to contribute to it. It’s different from the traditional aspect of the festival, but you love it all the same. You watch in awe as fires spark throughout the valley, laughter and contentment resonating through every single dream and nightmare in attendance.

You’re breathless. Your cheeks hurt from smiling and laughing, legs tired and weak from dancing in circles between the fires all night. Merv even slipped you some dark liquid that you think was The Dreaming’s version of liquor. You stumble off into the dark, away from the burning fires and raucous crowd, tripping into the heavy wood of Fiddler’s Green. It’s darker here, the pyres raging in the distance, hooting and hollering echoing over the hills. You wipe the sweat from your brow with your shirt, hiking your skirt up to free your legs and cool yourself down.

“I have been looking for you.” his voice, cool and deep, floats over you softly. The wisps shiver, their soft light flickering, illuminating the Endless who is suddenly standing before you. You lick your lips.

“Morpheus…”

“Witchling.” You both stand silent before each other, and you’re about to ask him where he’s been when he speaks. “I have something I would like to show you, if you would care to join me?” He holds his hand out to yours, supernovas blinking in his eyes.

“You did all this for me?” you ask as you walk, stepping carefully on the path to avoid anything that could knock you off course. You don’t want to let go of his hand. Ever.

“I had assistance.”

“Morpheus, thank you… it was incredible. I can’t even begin to tell you how perfect it was. It was beautiful… I feel very lucky.” You grin broadly, your exuberance overflowing. The wisps reflect your mood, their warm glow shining more intensely, shimmering in the dark like stars themselves. You feel his eyes watching you, and you grip his hand tighter.

You stand perplexed as he brings you to a halt outside of the cottage. At first, you don’t notice anything amiss. It’s dark, and your eyes strain to catalogue your surroundings.

But then you hear it.

The soothing sound of running water. The wisps brighten, and your eyes find a moss-covered mound, with an opening in its center revealing a small pool.

“This is a freshwater spring. I am aware you have been conjuring water so that you may nourish your garden. I hope this will ease that burden.”

“You made me a well. On Beltane.” Does he know? The light trickling sounds of the water fills the silence between you two as you glance over, the knowledge that he holds of every culture, every custom, every ritual blinking back at you. Of course, he knows. “You made me a well, on Beltane.”

“I did.” And idea sparks in your mind, and you turn, reaching out to touch his arm briefly.

“Wait right here, please.” Sprinting off into the cottage, you grab the object you need hastily, returning to his side as quickly as you can manage.

“The first water drawn from a well on Beltane is said to bring luck for the rest of the year.” You dip your mug into the babbling spring, bringing it up full. “Will you share it with me, Dream of the Endless?” The formal use of his moniker feels familiar and true, and warmth coils in your stomach.

“Yes.” He answers. You lift the china to your lips, drinking the water deep into your soul and then pass it to him. You envision good fortune, for both of you, and push the other potential blessings far from your mind. You supposed you could invoke fertility for your garden, but the risk is too great, the concentration of power in this realm is too strong, and Hecate forbid you end up making that kind of mistake. His fingers brush yours during the exchange, the swell of longing rising in you again. It’s not home you’re sick for this time, but him. He closes his eyes as he drinks, and you watch his throat bob as he swallows. You’re illuminated by the moon and the wisps, the soft light from both casting onto his flawless skin, and you envision it flush against yours. You shift your body away, face moving to a different direction lest you get caught staring, again. Wisps dance in your line of sight, their light momentarily distracting you when he says your name, the inflection impressed with a sentimental fondness that tugs at your heart.

You turn and realize he’s staring at you, tracing your face reverently as if you’re the only thing in existence. His eyes blaze, the starlight in his gaze captivating, pulling you closer until you’re standing right in front him, the wisps glowing in a circle around you both.

“Morpheus.” You breathe.

“I must admit something to you.”

“Oh?”

“When you first woke here, after your death, you asked me if you had become a dream.” You nod, remembering. “I said you were not a dream, but I am afraid that was a lie.” You startle and look up to him with wide eyes. He places a hand on your cheek, palm cradling your face like you mean something. Like you matter.

“Am I actually a dream, Morpheus?” He shakes his head no, finger coming to stroke the pearl around your neck.

“You are the dream of an Endless.” His mouth meets yours, and your eyes slide shut instinctively as your body responds, your own lips moving with his, the kiss effortless and tender. As he draws away, stars swirl above you, dropping from The Dreaming’s atmosphere to streak across the rich velvet of the night sky. His hand gently tilts your head upward, and you stand together as he holds you close, the outline of his profile illuminated by the celestial show above. You stay there for what feels like hours, until he presses his forehead to yours and whispers,

“You are my dream, little star.”

#dream of the endless #dream of the endless x reader #morpheus x reader #the sandman fanfic #peaches writes #witchling #dream of the endless x original female character

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illumins · 1 year

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The small manor's main hall was adorned with inexpensive wallpaper, its vibrant royal blue hue dotted with gracefully flying cranes. This ornate decoration spanned the entire space, casting a captivating ambiance upon the room. The manor, well-known to the residents of Lillon, a quaint port town nestled on the eastern side of the majestic Avalon mountains, stood proudly atop a lofty hill overlooking the tumultuous sea. The crashing waves resounded through the manor, harmonizing with the fervent shouts of its diligent butlers and maids.

Clad in a flowing white gown, Lena gracefully descended the grand u-shaped staircase, her every step a symphony of mischief. With each passing second, a mischievous smile adorned her face as the caretakers of the manor gasped for breath, cursing her name. The cold touch of the marble floor against her bare feet amplified a sense of liberation that coursed through her veins.

"Lady Lena! I implore you, please halt your advance!" cried out her butler in desperation.

And halt she did. Turning around, she couldn't help but snicker at the sight of her beleaguered butler, hunched over with a dress draped over his arm. As he looked up, his breath held, he cautiously attempted to approach her, but she instinctively took a step back. Extending her index finger playfully, she warned, "Nah ah, Mr. Freed. One step closer, and I may be tempted to test the full force of gravity by leaping out of the window."

Exasperated, Mr. Freed bent backward, his frustration palpable. "My word, Lena. Why must you always be so obstinate?"

"Why, Mr. Freed? Don't you find it amusing?" she asked, her eyes gleaming mischievously.

Meeting her daring gaze with an unamused expression, Mr. Freed's lips formed a pout reminiscent of a basset hound. "Not particularly. How do you perceive it, then?"

"A thrill," she exclaimed, her eyebrow teasingly raised, before darting off into the bustling kitchen. The chaotic symphony of two cooks and seven maids echoed within the culinary domain, their frantic movements tracing a frenzied path from one end to the other. The head chef, with a commanding presence, barked orders while deftly chopping freshly plucked vegetables from the garden. Amidst the flurry of activity, the Lady of the manor remained unnoticed, her presence inconsequential as the staff busily toiled to complete their culinary creations. It struck her as peculiar, but she saw no reason to dwell on such matters. Instead, she directed her steps toward the pantry.

Navigating through the industrious throng of workers, she gracefully evaded incoming plates, her hands tightly tucked by her side. Silently, she glided through the bustling scene until she arrived at the pantry's entrance. As she slipped inside, the sun's gentle rays poured through the glass dome ceiling, bathing the space in a natural glow. Illuminated before her were an array of spices, dried herbs, and tantalizing desserts. Her eyes widened as they fixated upon a glass jar brimming with freshly baked cookies, perched high upon a shelf. Wasting no time, she advanced swiftly, her steps careful and her arms outstretched. With a skillful maneuver, she managed to seize the jar, her heart filled with triumphant delight.

"Lena," a low voice cut through the air, causing her to startle.

Turning around, clutching the purloined jar, she chuckled nervously. "Ah, Vincent, you've caught me in the act. You nearly gave me a heart attack, old man."

“Don’t call me old.”

"Yes, sir," she hastily apologized, realizing her lapse in judgment.

Brandishing a knife stained with remnants of his culinary artistry, Vincent pointed at the jar of cookies. "That's the second jar this week."

“What can I say? You do god’s work.”

"Lena," he warned, his voice laced with a blend of admonishment and affection.

"Yes, sir," she relented, approaching him to hand over the coveted jar.

Stepping aside to allow her exit, Vincent's intentions were thwarted as an unforeseen impact jolted her backward.

"Oh, Vincent, please don't tell me you were concealing Lena again," Mr. Freed's composed voice broke through the moment of surprise, as both Lena and Vincent regained their composure.

Pointing his knife accusingly at Mr. Freed, Vincent grumbled, "And I distinctly recall instructing you not to run in my kitchen."

With a single finger, Mr. Freed gently pushed the knife away from his face. "Well, you should know that it's all thanks to this young lady. Her relentless chaos has pushed the maids to their limits, causing three of them to collapse from exhaustion."

Vincent cast a glance at Lena, who responded with a sheepish smile. "I had my suspicions," he remarked.

“Well, I will be taking Lady Lena to her room to be attended to so that when Sir Piermon arrives, he will be proud of the woman she’s become.”

Those words reverberated within her, rendering her motionless. Even as the butler firmly grasped her wrist, attempting to guide her away, she remained rooted to the spot. Father? Her mind struggled to conjure up a faint memory of a bearded man clad in fine garments—a tenuous connection to the man. The last time she had seen him, she was but a fragile twelve-year-old girl, trapped in a shadowy existence she could never fully escape.

The butler noticed the shock etched upon the girl's face, stifling an exasperated breath. "Lena, I understand that it has been a considerable time. However, we must prepare you for his arrival. Can you find it within yourself to comply? For us?"

Lifting her gaze, she comprehended the weight behind his words. Though she had not witnessed it firsthand, the murmurs circulating within these very walls had given her an inkling. Her father was not held in high regard within this manor, and perhaps not even in their hometown. Very well, she acquiesced, nodding her consent and allowing Mr. Freed to escort her away—from the kitchen, through the main hall, and up the ornate staircase.

They adorned her in a manner she had anticipated, to a degree that rendered the reflection in the mirror foreign to her own eyes. The maids, aware of her aversion to all things associated with femininity, had always outfitted her in modest attire, disguising her noble status. To an outside observer, she would have appeared as a commoner rather than a woman of distinction. Yet now, she found herself enveloped in a resplendent royal blue gown, intricate makeup adorning her features, her hair meticulously styled into an elegant bun, and a lingering fragrance of lavender clinging to her skin. It was all too overwhelming—a costume, she reassured herself, as she spun before the towering looking glass.

A pair of gentle knocks resonated through the chamber, prompting her to nod in permission for one of the maids to open the door. Mr. Freed emerged, bedecked in a fine vest, a shirt adorned with ruffled cuffs, and his meticulously groomed hair elegantly swept back.

"Your father has arrived, my Lady," he announced, his words evoking a disquieting sensation. The notion of having her father brought forth an unsettling strangeness she preferred to avoid. Nonetheless, she steeled herself, resolving to endure the encounter. "Very well," she responded with composed resolve.

Before stepping out of the room behind the butler, one of the maids intercepted her. Perplexed, she turned back, inquiring, "What is it?"

"Remember what you have been taught, my Lady—chin held high, shoulders back, and manners, Lady Lena," the elder maid gently hinted, prompting Lena to scoff inwardly at the absurdity of it all. Nevertheless, she allowed a smile to grace her lips and executed a graceful curtsy. "Very well," the maid approved, granting her permission to proceed.

Descending the grand staircase, Lena observed the mansion's staff, all bedecked in their finest uniforms, emitting an even more enticing fragrance than usual. They stood in rigid formation, forming a corridor of respect on either side of the imposing front door. From above, Lena glimpsed her father engrossed in conversation with Mr. Freed. Adorned in immaculate white attire, adorned with subtle yet intricate embroideries upon his coat, his wavy locks expertly swept back, and his piercing blue eyes exuding a chilling allure, he possessed an illusion of handsomeness.

Mr. Freed, sensing the hesitant presence of the young girl atop the staircase, introduced her with a reverent tone. "My Lord, may I present to you, Lady Lena."

Suppressing a heavy heartbeat, Lena felt her father's gaze lock with her own. A surge of desperation surged through her being—a desperate longing to escape the moment. With a forced smile etching upon her lips and her hands clutching at the folds of her blue gown, she embarked on the cautious descent down the curved staircase. Each step felt akin to a treacherous dance with mortality, as her eyes struggled to discern where her feet would find purchase. Finally, her feet touched the firm ground below, and she inwardly breathed a sigh of relief. Standing before her father, she curtsied with practiced grace, uttering a polite greeting, "Father."

His gaze lingered upon her for what felt like an eternity, suffusing the room with an icy chill. If it were within the realm of possibility, she believed she would have dissolved into a mere puddle under the intensity of his scrutiny. A tingling sensation prickled her fingers, and her palms grew damp with perspiration. Even Mr. Freed, standing nearby, appeared uneasy, fidgeting subtly in his position.

Breaking the frigid silence, her father's voice pierced through the air, slicing through the palpable tension. "I perceive that you have blossomed into the Lady of this House, Lena. It appears my apprehensions were nothing more than figments of my imagination."

Keeping her eyes averted from him, she offered a subtle nod in acknowledgment. "Thank you, Father."

At that moment, Mr. Freed interjected, addressing her father as ‘Sir Piermon.’ "Lunch has been prepared, and your chamber awaits, should you wish to rest after your arduous journey."

"No need; I have come to see Lena and convey a message," her father asserted, disregarding Mr. Freed's suggestion. The butler attempted to interject once more, only to halt abruptly as her father raised a commanding hand.

Curiosity and trepidation swelled within her, prompting Lena to question, "What is it, Father?" She couldn't suppress the hastiness in her voice, and a twinge of regret prickled at her.

Her father's next words pierced her with a searing blow. "Your mother has passed."

The numbness that accompanied thoughts of her mother was not entirely unfamiliar; there had been little of her presence to cling to. Lena harbored but a solitary recollection, a swirling concoction of emotions and confusion, one she had long chosen to bury deep within. Yet, an uncharted hollow suddenly bloomed within her, unsettling the pit of her stomach. Perhaps it was merely hunger, she attempted to persuade herself. Nevertheless, that unyielding part of her being, perpetually stirring with unwelcome emotions and thoughts, adamantly disagreed. No, Lena, you are experiencing sadness. That is the essence of this emotion—a profound sense of sorrow and loneliness.

Her lips bore the mark of her bite, a feeble attempt to suppress the torrent of unwelcome tears that threatened to spill forth. With a deliberate inhalation and exhalation, she sought to regain composure. "When did it happen?" Her voice, though laced with a semblance of sternness, trembled subtly at its conclusion.

"At Saint Moray's, at the onset of dusk. The attending nurses discovered her lifeless form resting by the window," he recounted. "It was a sudden passing."

Her question, sharp yet vulnerable, pierced the air. "And what was the cause?"

"Her heart simply gave out. That is all the information I possess," he responded matter-of-factly.

Lena's gaze remained fixed upon her father, his countenance devoid of any emotion, as cold as ever. Nodding with measured restraint, she averted her face, purposefully evading Mr. Freed's gaze. For a fleeting moment, her eyes caught a glimpse of disbelief etched upon the butler's visage, but she swiftly shifted her line of sight, unwilling to succumb to the shattering of her fragile facade.

"However, that is not the sole purpose of my visit," her father continued, oblivious to her refusal to acknowledge him.

Lena remained motionless.

And he did not pause to wait for her.

"You are to be wedded to the Marquis of Li'Pold," he declared, the words hanging heavily in the air. Her eyes widened in profound disbelief, her throat constricting with the suppressed scream that clamored for release. This time, she did look at him, a single tear slipping past her lengthy lashes, tracing a trail down her delicate jawline.

"What?" she exclaimed, her voice betraying her distressed state.

"The arrangements have been made, and a carriage shall arrive by month's end to collect you," he stated, turning his attention to Mr. Freed. The venerable butler, his face etched with wrinkles that belied his modest features, appeared almost as anguished as she felt. "Ensure that all pertinent belongings are adequately prepared. Intensify her tutelage in the art of being a dutiful wife and instruct her in the responsibilities befitting a Marquess, until such time as she departs."

So this is your plan, in the wake of mother's departure—to rid yourself of the other. "And what shall become of the individuals here?" she inquired through clenched teeth.

"They shall be reassigned to various noble households that have taken an interest in a select few," he replied dismissively.

Lena's tone now bore an unmistakable edge, her words gritted between her teeth. "A select few? And what of those who do not fall into that chosen category?"

"They shall receive a month's worth of wages as compensation and be left to seek their fortunes elsewhere. Is there anything else?" His voice sharpened dangerously, a clear indication of his impatience.

Unbeknownst to her, her posture had gradually succumbed to a slouch, but now she straightened her spine, rolling her shoulders back and elevating her chin with newfound resolve. "No," she replied, her voice carrying a tone of defiance.

A heavy silence engulfed them both, stretching taut like a tightly drawn bowstring. Out of the corner of her eye, she glimpsed Mr. Freed regaining his composure, clearing his throat as if to break the oppressive stillness.

Sir Piermon ran a hand through his meticulously combed hair, pivoting on his heel. "That is all I have come to convey. I shall take my leave then," he declared. With the same swiftness that had brought him, he departed once more, leaving behind a lingering chill in the air.

Above, a tempestuous storm raged, casting its shadow over the land. Tiny droplets of rain glistened like scattered stars, illuminated intermittently by the flickering lantern on her bedside table and the occasional bolt of lightning. The rain tapped rhythmically against the circular window, offering a backdrop to the vast expanse of hills upon which the manor perched, overlooking the vast ocean. By night, the view possessed an air of haunting beauty, but to Lena, it whispered of untamed freedom, an untapped realm awaiting her.

Nestled within her double bed, positioned toward the room's rear, Lena lay ensconced in the embrace of fine cotton sheets and her nightgown. Her meticulously brushed hair cascaded over her right shoulder, but the dampness in the air transformed it into a fluffier, more unruly mass than she preferred—a trait that irked her. Ever since her father's departure, she had retreated into an isolated silence. During lunch, she sat alone, unable to stomach even a morsel of the freshly prepared chicken and salad that Vincent had lovingly crafted. Soon thereafter, the maids ushered her upstairs to her chamber, where they removed her gown, bathed her, and readied her for bed in an atmosphere of tense silence. In their own way, they extended a modicum of compassion, granting the numbed girl space, unaware of the clandestine battle waged within her mind.

She remained uncertain as to which side had emerged triumphant—was the weight of her mother's passing substantial enough to unleash her grief, or did the prospect of departing from the place she once regarded as a prison, now her sanctuary, loom too large, rendering it a mere memory too soon? All these emotions surged and churned, trapped within the confines of her throat, clawing and beseeching her to succumb to one or the other, yet she found herself incapable of action. Confusion reigned. Loss pervaded. She... was adrift.

Lena rose from her bed, the frigid wooden floor chilling her bare feet, and made her way toward the window, leaning her head against the cool glass. Will I become like her? Whatever had propelled my mother into madness, does it lie dormant within me as well? I wonder what affliction led her down that path. If only I knew, then perhaps I could stop it from happening to me... She attempted to envision her mother's descent into madness—mumbling incoherently, fixated on imaginary visions, but the images refused to materialize. For the only memory she retained of her mother was not one of insanity, but rather one steeped in tragedy.

I don’t want to be a tragedy.

Then, an unrestrained sob escaped her lips, followed by another and another, the outpouring of emotions intertwining in a tumultuous dance. Amidst the swirling torrent, one sentiment emerged with crystalline clarity: fear. It seized her, causing her hands to tremble uncontrollably, and she instinctively wrapped her arms tightly around herself, as if seeking protection from the weight that threatened to crush her. It felt as though madness itself threatened to consume her, burying her under its suffocating grip.

From a distant corner of the room, her gaze fell upon the glimmering lights emanating from the coastal town below. Man-made luminance illuminated the darkness, a stark contrast to her desolate surroundings. Her eyes traced the graceful sway of three imposing ships battling the tempestuous waves at the harbor. In her mind's ear, she could almost hear the echo of laughter and the strains of music that surely accompanied the revelry below. Lena cast a lingering glance back at her barren room, where an oppressive darkness loomed, signaling a foreboding and uncertain future that had abruptly arrived. Turning her attention back to the window, she pressed the right side of her face against the cold glass, gazing downward at the town, then fixing her gaze upon the ships. Ships—a symbol of liberation and boundless possibilities.

Driven by a sudden surge of exhilaration, Lena hurriedly made her way to her closet, fingers skimming past opulent silks in various hues of purple, blue, green, and red, each fabric a proclamation of status. Yet, status was the last thing she desired. She yearned for inconspicuous attire, garments that would allow her to blend seamlessly with the common folk inhabiting the bustling town below. An idea ignited within her, igniting a spark of giddy delight. The maids—surely they possessed garments more suited to her purpose. Silently, she turned the knob of one of the two wide doors, slipping out into the dimly lit hallway. The manor assumed a more hollow and haunting ambiance during the nocturnal hours, with the relentless rain pounding upon the roof and the vast windows, evoking an eerie yet oddly serene sensation. Moving with careful steps, she descended the stairs, her footsteps tiptoeing across the marble, her anxious mind praying for their echoes to dissipate into the shadows. The grandeur of the main hall served as a stark reminder of how, mere hours ago, she had frolicked through its expanse like an untethered child, laughter reverberating through the air. Yet, it was within these very walls that her world had been shattered, the world she had painstakingly constructed.

She proceeded toward the kitchen, but her steps carried her further, past four doors lining either side of the hallway. On the right stood the quarters for the men of the manor, while on the left resided the women. However, those four doors were not her intended destination. Her purpose lay within the last door on the left, nestled farther down the corridor beside a lavishly adorned table. Passing through the threshold, she found herself in the laundry room, where baskets brimming with clothing flanked sinks and drying racks. Garments of various kinds were strewn haphazardly across the space, and she wasted no time in sifting through the discarded fabric. Each item she examined was promptly cast aside, her hopes set on finding a modest day dress, akin to the attire the maids would wear during their visits to town. Alas, none surfaced. It seemed that only men's clothing and standard uniforms remained, prompting a click of her tongue in frustration, as she begrudgingly accepted that the former constituted her sole option.

Exasperation welled within her, and with a heave, she discarded her nightgown, hastily snatching up a loose green cotton shirt and a pair of beige trousers that sagged at her waist. Her eyes swept across the laundry room, and a cry of triumph escaped her lips as she spotted a neglected belt hanging from one of the racks. Seizing it, she deftly buckled it around her waist, cinching the trousers securely. Finally, she seized a worn-out brown oversized coat, its weight settling upon her shoulders, while she struggled to keep the rolled-up sleeves from engulfing her hands. Completing her impromptu ensemble, she hastily slipped on a pair of socks and pulled on knee-high leather boots.

Emerging from the laundry room, Lena passed through the kitchen, her gaze falling upon a woven bag containing bread. Without hesitation, she claimed it as her own. Swiftly, she shrugged off her coat, slung the bag across her chest, and slipped back into the comforting embrace of the coat's folds. Now, standing before the servants' door, her hand rested upon the handle, poised to open it. A momentary hesitation gripped her, but a sudden lightning strike outside propelled her forward, causing her to fling open the door in a startle. The tempestuous storm greeted her eagerly, and a smile broke through the clouds of fatigue upon her countenance. The cold caress of wind and rain kissed her face as they tugged at her, urging her farther away. Squinting against the elements, she turned and closed the door behind her, embarking upon the path that led downhill toward the town, where the waiting ships beckoned.

From a distance, she discerned the town's melody, harmonizing with the symphony of the storm—laughter, shouts, and exuberant cries blending into a vibrant cacophony. Yet, as she stood at the epicenter of it all, the sounds seemed to belong to tales she had yet to experience. Excitement and nervous anticipation mingled within her, causing her stomach to bubble with a delightful restlessness. The fear that had gripped her back in her room now resided merely as a faint ache in her heart. Passersby smiled and engaged in lively conversations, while intoxicated men and women sang and bantered, carried away by the melodies emanating from taverns. The aroma of freshly baked delicacies wafted from every open door of taverns, inns, and homes. Children brandishing wooden swords played joyously, their voices filled with pirate slang as they leaped into puddles. Pirates, she thought, a giggle escaping her lips. Lena couldn't help but marvel at the lively spectacle unfolding before her eyes, for there seemed to be no corner of the town of Lillon unoccupied. Some of the men who passed by wore adornments of jewelry and swords hanging from their hips, their eyes shimmering with the same exuberant joy she had felt earlier.

Shaking her head, she released a breathy laugh, a soft sound escaping her lips. "The ships, Lena, the ships first," she whispered to herself, a gentle reminder, as she sought refuge beneath the sheltering roof of one of the stores. It was certain that they would not embark on their journey tonight. Her task was clear: she needed to unravel the destination they sought and devise a plan to clandestinely join their voyage. Easy... well, perhaps not so easily accomplished... hahaha. Strands of damp hair threatened to obstruct her vision, prompting her to deftly slick them away. Squinting once again, she directed her gaze towards the harbor and the docks, where slumbering figures lay undisturbed. How can they sleep through this storm? Lena watched in awe, momentarily captivated by their seemingly impervious slumber. However, she swiftly dismissed the thought, turning her attention elsewhere.

A woman, equally drenched by the downpour, hurriedly approached her, vigorously patting herself down to ward off the relentless raindrops. Shivers ran through her body as the winds howled around them. The adrenaline coursing through Lena's veins had momentarily caused her to forget the chill that clung to her, yet now, the sight of the woman's trembling form made her own body shudder in response.

“Oh darling, you must be freezing, huh,” the woman pointed out, her concern evident in her voice, as she continued her futile attempts to dry herself.

"Yes," Lena replied, a small laugh escaping her lips, though her teeth chattered involuntarily.

“Well, you should head home before you catch a cold or somethin’.”

"Actually," Lena began, adjusting her position slightly to face the woman directly, endeavoring to hold her attention, "do you happen to know the destination of these ships, ma'am?"

As the lady halted her movements, her gaze sweeping up and down Lena's figure, a sudden knot formed in Lena's throat. She had never ventured into this part of town, and these people knew nothing of her identity. Up in the manor, she was merely the daughter of a wealthy man, hidden away, decaying in her own solitude. This woman didn't know her. Of course not, Lena reassured herself, clinging to the hope that she would remain unrecognized.

“Don’t tell me a young thing like you got caught up with those men,” the woman sighed, her voice tinged with a mix of sympathy and exasperation.

“Well—” Lena began, intending to clarify her intentions, but the woman interrupted her, shaking her head in disapproval.

“You know, I get us women wanting to make a name for ourselves. But it’s not necessary with those savages.” She shook her head. “Do you know what it’s like being on board with twenty or more men on a ship?”

"No, but—" Lena attempted to interject, her words falling on deaf ears.

“Cause let me tell you, I do. Or at least my cousin’s girlfriend’s friend Genevive knows. Ooh, she told me some things that no woman should bear witness to or experience. She said it better herself, ‘Women can do it all but don’t need to lose the class they were taught,’ and every time I work with those men at the tavern, I feel that in my chest darlin’.”

Lena stood before the woman, her eyes blinking in a dazed fashion, her lips slightly parted as she struggled to process the woman's words within her fatigued mind. Leaning down to meet the young girl's gaze, the woman's concern was palpable as she spoke, “Oh damn, don’t tell me you’re already feeling sick. They do say small things like you get easily withered.”

Startled by the woman's proximity, Lena instinctively leaned back, offering a sheepish smile in response. "I, uh, no, I assure you, I feel perfectly fine. I apologize for the confusion. Working alongside them can indeed be draining. However, circumstances have led to my transfer, and I need to ascertain which ship is bound for which destination."

Acknowledging Lena's explanation with a nod, the woman adjusted her dampened hair and leaned over the edge of the shop's wall, directing her gaze toward the bustling harbor. “Well, I can’t tell you which is which since I don’t really step out onto the docks. But I can tell you the places they’re planning to go.”

“That’s fine,” I think.

“Well, from what I heard, two are planning to sail west to the islands of Canoga, and one is sailing to Pearl Reef.”

Expressing her gratitude, Lena suppressed the urge to curtsy out of habit. "Thank you for your assistance."

“Of course. Now, I must get a couple of things and head back. It was nice meeting you! You should head home and take a bath before you get yourself sick, though,” she finished before heading into the shop.

Lena offered a nod of acknowledgment before turning her gaze toward the three ships looming before her. Canoga was not a viable option, considering Li'Pold's presence there. This meant she had a single opportunity to choose wisely among the trio bound for Pearl Reef. Among the three vessels, the one positioned in the middle exuded a grandeur surpassing that of its counterparts. Adorning its bowsprit was a meticulously crafted figurehead, depicting a bird with its wings tucked gracefully. In her younger years, a maid would regale Lena with tales of sailing and ships, given her father's occupation as a merchant. While the intricate details and components of a ship hadn't been retained as vividly as the locations in those stories, the captivating designs of mermaids, maidens, and pirates that adorned the vessels had always held a profound allure. Each ship possessed its unique design, laden with symbolism.

I’d best get moving.

As Lena maneuvered through the undulating masses of swaying crowds and bustling vendors, her mind was awash with nervous contemplation of the words she would utter once she confronted the men who occupied the docks. Unbeknownst to her until now, the briny aroma of the sea permeated the air, permeating her nostrils and searing her lungs with an unfamiliar and putrid blend of salt and fish. As her feet made contact with the weathered wooden planks of the docks, a resounding creak jolted her senses, prompting her to cast a wary gaze downward, ensuring the integrity of the flooring beneath her.

Resting against one of the pylons, a man of similar age to Lena lounged upon a diminutive wooden stool. A brown cocked hat nestled upon his face, slightly askew to grant his left eye an unimpeded view. With his right arm, he diligently secured the hat, preventing the capricious wind from snatching it away. Nonetheless, his long black vest and billowing blouse danced with the breeze, threatening to become disheveled and dislodged from his brown trousers. Drenched by the rain as Lena was, he remained unperturbed in his repose, only mustering a glance as she drew nearer. Peering at her through the small opening afforded by his hat, he offered no inclination to alter his position.

"Yes?" His voice, groggy and brimming with palpable disinterest, reverberated towards her.

Lena raised her hand above her eyes in an attempt to shield them from the incessant rainfall, her voice carrying a trace of urgency, “Sorry, I was hoping to talk to the Captain who will be sailing to Pearl Reef.”

Upon hearing her request, he sat up, setting aside his hat as he scrutinized her with a discerning gaze. Raising an eyebrow, a smug smirk materialized upon his countenance, as he insinuated, “Are you one of his whores?”

His words elicited a mixture of disbelief and revulsion within Lena, causing her voice to escalate slightly, "His what?"

Unfazed by her reaction, he retorted, his tone tinged with sardonic amusement, “Don’t be ashamed; it happens. I’ve noticed that the ones who’ve accepted it tend to have a better time.”

“I am not a whore and certainly not his. I’m just hoping to speak to him.”

Clicking his tongue disapprovingly, he shook his head, his demeanor condescending, “Being desperate isn’t a good look on you. It won’t win him over, either.”

Oh, for the love of god— “Do you know where he is or not?”

A wry smile tugged at his lips as he leaned back, divulging the sought-after information, “At the Greyson’s tavern. Perhaps singing another night away.”

She expressed a bitter gratitude to the man who had provided her with the desired information before retracing her steps through the town, her gaze fixed upon the carved wooden signs suspended above or affixed to the walls of shops and establishments. The weariness that had been steadily encroaching upon her finally overwhelmed her resistance, a relentless reminder of the discomfort that plagued her within the confines of these sodden, ill-fitting garments. They clung to her form with an ungainly persistence, exacerbating the chafed skin between her thighs. The ceaseless downpour only added to her plight, as her dampened hair adhered to her neck and cheeks, teasing her already hypersensitive complexion. "Just convince him to grant you a place within his crew," she muttered to herself, an incantation she repeated with increasing fervor. At long last, the sight of handcrafted lettering announcing 'Greyson's Tavern' above a sturdy oak door elicited a warmth that transformed her withered countenance into a grateful smile.

Externally, the establishment exuded an atmosphere of intimacy, imbued with rustic charm. Pillars hewn from both soft and hardwood dominated the outer facade, while the interior remained hidden behind glazed windows. However, the sounds and warmth emanating from within could be perceived even from the outside. The lively melodies and animated conversations spilled forth as the door swung open, permitting ingress and egress. The occupants within appeared dazed, inebriated, or otherwise under the influence. Lena followed closely behind one of the patrons, and as she crossed the threshold, she basked in the embrace of warm yellow light that enveloped the interior, the palpable heat radiating from the throng of bodies swaying and singing in unison. Her gaze momentarily lowered to the floor, besmirched by countless muddy footprints, spilled libations, and discarded remnants of food. Nonetheless, as she stood within the entryway, drenched and shivering, she reveled in the unfamiliar sensation of warmth, audibly releasing a sigh of relief as she finally escaped the clutches of the cold and damp.

Waitresses traversed the premises, dutifully attending to an abundance of drink and food orders. One of them bestowed upon Lena a fleeting smile as she passed by, though her attention was swiftly diverted to cater to another person. It’s not like I brought money with me, Lena thought wryly. The amalgamation of unfamiliar scents wafting through the tavern provoked a slight headache, but one she resolved to endure until she could board the ship. Above her, stout wooden beams provided support for the upper floor, while modest chandeliers adorned with rows of flickering candles illuminated the space. The walls were adorned with an assortment of mementos, each bearing the signatures of patrons who had likely donated them. Numerous long tables were occupied by what appeared to be the entire populace of Lillon, while smaller tables also accommodated revelers who reveled in their mirth, perhaps even to excess, if such a thing were possible. Even the bar stools were predominantly claimed, yet the close proximity seemed to elicit no discontent among the occupants. Amidst it all, perched atop one of the elongated tables, a man bellowed forth a sea shanty that served as a siren's call to the assembled crowd.

Lena quickly discerned that he held command over the sea shanty that had enraptured the hearts of all present; amidst the clamor of boisterous voices, his own resounded with unparalleled brilliance. Entranced, she watched him with unabashed fascination, unable to deny the handsomeness that graced his visage. His fiery red tresses tumbled untamed, cascading in playful disarray with errant strands framing his features. The remnants of rainwater adorned his bronzed skin, shimmering like liquid gems. It appeared that not a soul in this haven of revelry minded the rain's persistent assault, embracing the tempestuous conditions with fervor. A faint blush brushed his cheeks as he quaffed from a bottle of whiskey clutched in his hand. His pearly white teeth gleamed with each infectious smile that accompanied the fervent rendition of the next verse, eliciting spirited dances from his fellow merrymakers. Smudged black makeup accentuated his eyes, while golden jewelry shimmered seductively in the ambient light. As the song crescendoed toward its final chorus, he rose from his seat and meandered through the throng, leaning in to share intimate words and hearty laughter with the assembled company. A mischievous twinkle danced in his eyes as he serenaded a woman from behind, their playful exchange culminating in a twirl and a tantalizing tease. And as the melody reached its climactic end, he ascended a chair, lifting his bottle high while exclaiming a triumphant 'hoorah!' in unison with the raucous crowd.

The tavern erupted in a symphony of applause and cheers, reverberating through the air as glasses were raised in celebratory toasts to the renowned 'Captain Canerie,' who responded with a playful bow. Lena recognized that her moment had arrived, the opportune time to seize her chance. With each apologetic murmur, she navigated through the bustling crowd, diligently shadowing the vibrant-haired captain's every move. Amidst the sea of revelers, she felt diminutive, her gaze barely reaching the shoulders of those around her, compelling her to rise onto tiptoes intermittently to maintain sight of her target. Stay still, you idiot! she chided herself, though he seemed to flit effortlessly from table to table, engaging in flirtations with women and sharing hearty laughter with men who eagerly inquired about his seafaring exploits.

Finally, Lena arrived at the table where she had first spotted him. Nervousness and apprehension coiled tightly within her gut and constricted her throat, yet she steeled herself for this encounter. "Captain Canerie?" she called out, her voice rising above the clamor. He continued regaling his companions with laughter and tales, while a woman seated beside him leaned against his shoulder, fluttering her lashes coquettishly.

"Captain Canerie," Lena spoke again, raising her volume. At once, the collective gaze of the table's occupants shifted toward her, some with mouths full of food, others peering curiously from behind their drinks. The tavern's vivacity persisted, yet she felt an eerie hush settle over the world. Suppressing a nervous giggle, she met his amused gaze as the woman fed him morsels of bread.

“Apologies for interrupting your festivities, but I wanted to know if you are the individual destined for the voyage to Pearl Reef," Lena interjected, her words breaking through the jubilant atmosphere. All eyes remained fixed upon her, and she couldn't help but fathom the peculiarity of her appearance in their discerning gazes. Bedraggled like a stray, she donned garments that dwarfed her slender frame, while her fatigued countenance, tinged with unshed tears and the weariness of mourning, likely struck them as an oddity. If Mr. Freed saw me…oh god.

"And if I were?" he responded in a mouthful.

"I had hoped to join your company," she ventured, her tone forthright yet carrying with it hope.

A collective freeze gripped the table, the captain's hand instinctively halting the woman from feeding him. A hint of amusement danced at the corner of his lips, quickly spreading contagiously among his comrades.

“Thank you for the laugh,” he retorted, succumbing to laughter alongside others.

"It is no jest," she insisted, her tone shifting to solemnity.

His head recoiled in disbelief, a brow arching quizzically as he took a bite of bread offered by the woman. Swallowing the morsel, he spoke, "And why should I entertain the notion? Do you possess any riches or significant valuables to sway me?"

“No—”

“Then I don’t see any chance of you stepping foot on my ship.”

He took a sip from his drink, resuming his conversation with those around him, their collective indifference casting her further into a realm of trepidation and ire. Anger coursed through her veins, intertwining with the nervousness and fear she had already experienced.

"I was going to offer myself as payment," she declared, her voice carrying enough weight to quell their chatter, eliciting a chorus of intrigued murmurs.

He faced her directly, giving her a good look up and down before scoffing, “No offense, love, but you’re just not my type.”

His companions erupted in laughter, provoking a wave of disgust that knitted her brows together. "I meant for work. I am prepared to undertake cleaning and any other menial tasks required during the journey."

He was on the cusp of responding when a young man of her age, his tousled brunette locks framing his face, tapped the captain's shoulder and motioned for a private conversation. Whispering into the redhead's ear, his message elicited a radiant smile upon the captain's face as he redirected his attention to Lena.

“I don’t see why, but we do need an extra hand around after our last one fell overboard.”

Lena's eyes widened in astonishment. Overwhelmed with gratitude, she clasped her hands together, ready to express her heartfelt appreciation, but her words caught in her throat as the captain raised his hand. “But, you must first beat me in a drinking contest. Only fair, since you’ll be around a bunch of drunks.”

Her mind went still as she thought about the offer, I’ve never drank a drop of liquor. I just watched the workers back home have a swig of it late at night. It can’t be that awful, surely. The same man who had whispered to Captain Canarie pushes a large cup of beer across the table in front of her.

Gazing at the effervescent bubbles dancing atop the freshly poured pint, Lena found herself momentarily transfixed. She then turned her attention to the man who had presented her with the drink, a smile gracing her lips. "What is your name?" she inquired.

“Chenle, why?” he replied, his eyes fixated on her with an air of fascination.

Lena took hold of the cup, raising it to her nose to inhale the peculiar aroma, allowing its distinct scent to tantalize her senses. "Because it’s only right that I get to know my crewmate's name," she explained, before taking hearty gulps that swiftly emptied the vessel.

A chorus of cheers erupted in her honor, but the exultation intensified when she gingerly placed the empty cup back on the table and found herself seized by a fit of coughs and retches, her revulsion palpable. That is the most disgusting thing I’ve ever tasted, she confessed, her disgust evident.

“Seems like your first time, little dove,” he then emptied his cup and sets it down proudly.

Chenle refills her cup and hands it to her, “How badly do you want to be part of the crew?”

Rolling her eyes in a bitter display, Lena accepted the cup from him, downing its contents in one fell swoop. Yet, the experience failed to offer any semblance of refreshment; instead, it burdened her with a leaden sensation and heightened self-revulsion, surpassing even the discomfort she had endured in the midst of the rain-soaked storm.

“So, how will this go?” she asked.

“Easy, keep drinking until one gives up or passes out,” he finishes another cup and gets refilled.

“Fine,” Lena says bitterly and finishes hers.

The cycle persisted until Captain Canarie dispatched the young woman seated beside him to retrieve another pint. One of the crewmates even graciously vacated his spot, affording her a place to sit. The crew member who provided the seat refilled her sixth cup, introducing himself as Mark, the Quartermaster. Much like the captain, he bore smudged black makeup beneath his eyes and donned ornate silver rings adorned with intricate depictions of animals and human portraits. The life of a merchant must yield handsome rewards, Lena surmised, albeit hazily, amidst her inebriated state.

"Come now, don't lose your pace," Captain Canarie prodded, gesturing towards her newly replenished cup of beer.

Narrowing her gaze at him, she quaffed the contents of the cup and slammed it resolutely onto the table. "Your turn," she challenged.

And with a swift motion, he raised the cup to his lips, effortlessly consuming its contents in a single gulp. Lena couldn't help but be bothered by how effortlessly he drank, seemingly unaffected, while she struggled to maintain her composure. While he appeared invigorated, she found herself navigating the world as if through the tranquil undulations of calm waves, each movement weighed down by the heaviness in her limbs. Her words began to slur, a source of annoyance and frustration.

Mark poured yet another pint, extending it towards her. However, as her lips brushed against the rim of the cup, a halt befell her as Captain Canarie's voice resonated through the air. "Alright, I'm done for the night, boys," he declared.

Lena's ears perked up at his proclamation, and in a fit of intoxicated excitement, she slammed her cup onto the table, causing the liquid to spill and drench her hand. Rising from her seat, she clumsily pumped her fist in the air with uncharacteristic glee. Turning towards the captain, who was already sporting a knowing smile, she exclaimed, "I've won! I've won, and now you have take me to Pearl Reef!"

Rising to his feet, Captain Canarie took hold of the woman's hand beside him, delicately kissing the back of her palm. "Actually, no," he responded.

Lena froze momentarily, a slight stumble betraying her inebriated state, her hand instinctively gripping the back of the extended bench to steady herself. "What do you mean, 'no'?" she retorted.

“I mean, you won’t be sailing with us. Go home and get yourself cleaned up.” he asserted, his arms now enveloping the woman, his chin resting against her shoulder.

“But you said if I won, I could sail with you,” she scornfully protested.

He gave her scant attention, burying his face deeper into the woman's neck. “I did, and now I say ‘nay,’ and as Captain, my words go. Crew?” he called out, his gaze shifting to the rest of the assembled individuals, who responded with chuckles, continuing to feast and drink. Some even raised their cups in amusement.

Her heart twisted and ached with a potent mix of anger and burgeoning tantrum. While she had never been one to behave childishly, weariness and sorrow pushed her beyond her limits. Yet, she bit her tongue, allowing tears to escape, their silent descent an embodiment of her seething emotions.

"You are a coward and unworthy of leading this crew," she spat venomously, her voice rising to a height that caused the tavern to fall into an uneasy silence.

The captain, along with his crew, took notice, and he withdrew from the woman's embrace, striding purposefully toward the distraught girl, his imposing figure casting a towering shadow. Their gazes locked in a glowering exchange, the tension in the air growing palpable. With gritted teeth, she uttered her final words, seething with disdain, "You are nothing but a pathetic liar."

"Take... her," the captain's command was resolute and concise, and in the blink of an eye, two of his crewmates seized Lena by her arms, their grip firm and unyielding.

She fought in their grip, “You can’t do this! What you’re doing is illegal. I’ll make sure your licenses as merchants are revoked!”

Laughter filled the air, intermingling with the boisterous revelry that engulfed the tavern. Captain Canarie, immersed in the mirthful atmosphere, joined in the cacophony, his voice resonating above the rest. "Who ever claimed we were mere merchants? We are Pirates!" he proclaimed, his words reverberating through the room, igniting a thunderous response from the crowd.

𔘓⁩ ᵗⁱᵖʲᵃʳ

divider: @/saradika

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anonymouspuzzler · 2 years

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you know what else I got big into recently? yugo limbo's BE KIND MY NEIGHBOR !!! y'all, if you're 18+ and are comfortable with the various Themes, please, please, I beg of you. buy this comic and check it out. I fully and genuinely think it's a masterpiece. it means so much to me in so many ways. truly, you will not regret reading this beautiful, wonderful, singularly unique comic. GET IT NOW

(detailed image descriptions under the cut!)

[Image 1: A colored illustration of Wegg standing in front of Mr. Neighbor, one hand on his hip, the other holding up a middle finger. Wegg is shouting "EXCUSE ME!!! He asked for no pickles!!!!!" Mr. Neighbor is staring down at him with a smile and a thought bubble showing the gay pride flag.]

[Image 2: A black and white drawing of Mr. Neighbor drawn from the chest up. He is wearing a turtleneck sweater and has his hair up in pigtails. He is winking and sticking out his tongue, looking to the left, stimming with his hands held up in front of his chest. There are little sparkles around his face because he's just that cute and handsome.]

[Image 3: A black and white drawing of Wegg from the waist up. He has a little cat smile and his tongue sticking up, one eyebrow raised. A thought balloon next to him reads, in bold handwritten text, "MEN'S TITS".]

[Image 4: A single-panel black-and-white comic. Mr. Neighbor, drawn from the chest up, is holding up his hands, on which there are novelty oven mitts that look like lobster claws. He is smiling widely and saying "Wegg, look! These oven mitts look like lobster claws, mm!" Wegg, seen from behind in front of him, is thinking, "I'm going to do unspeakable things to this man", with little hearts flying around the thought bubble.]

[Image 5: A black-and-white three-panel comic of Wegg and Mr. Neighbor. In the first panel, they are walking with their arms around each other, Wegg on the left and Mr. Neighbor on the right. Wegg, smiling smugly, says, "Y'know, like 'nya'". Neighbor, smiling back down at him, replies, "...what?" The next panel cuts in close on Wegg, smirking with a little kitty grin and holding up a hand like a cat paw, saying, "'nya'", with a drawing of kitty ears above his head to further emphasize. The final panel cuts back to Mr. Neighbor, with a wide-eyed, confused smile and multiple question marks around his head, responding, "I. Still don't understand. (help???)"]

[Image 6: A black-and-white drawing of Mr. Neighbor, wearing an apron and holding a freshly-baked pie with autumn leave decorations on top, smiling with a grim expression in his eyes, saying, "I have got to bake festive pies or I'm going to (in cursive) Die". On the table in front of him are several plates of cookies, muffins, other pies, a cake with gravestone and ghost decorations, and an Entire Pumpkin. In the background, Wegg is casually tossing an entire pie into his mouth.]

[Image 7: A black and white drawing of Mr. Neighbor and Wegg dressed as, respectively, Morticia and Gomez Addams. Wegg, tilting his head and winking, is holding a lit cigar in his right hand while bringing Neighbor's hand up to kiss with his left. Neighbor has brought his right hand up to his face and is visibly swooning. There are two heart symbols drawn between the two of them.]

[Image 8: A black and white "reaction shot" to the previous Halloween costume drawing. Tillman, drawn from the shoulders up, is looking over anxiously as if desperately trying not to realize something about himself, thinking, "I want to be both of them simultaneously??" Behind him, Glenn is staring with a visible blush, thinking (text bolded and motion-blurred) "BOOBA"]

[Image 9: A black and white, three-panel comic. In the first panel, Puzz's sona, seen from behind, is reaching up towards something on the top shelf in a grocery store of some kind, visibly shaking and sweating as she struggles to reach. Mr. Neighbor walks up from the right, smiling and saying, "Oh! I can help you!" In the second, he is smiling and holding out a generically-labeled "BOX!", saying, "Here you go, ma'am". In the third, Puzz, looking Utterly Miserable, stares up at an obliviously smiling Mr. Neighbor; an arrow pointing to Puzz says "28" while one pointing to Neighbor says "26".]

[Image 10: A black and white drawing of Puzz's sona, standing neutrally and staring up with a mildly curious expression, next to Wegg, looking incredibly smug and standing with one hand on his hip. An arrow pointing to Puzz notes " 4'11" ", while one pointing to Wegg notes " 5'0" & about to be fucking insufferable about it".]

#anonymous puzzler art #be kind my neighbor #mr neighbor #wegg #im not associated with the comic or company in any form btw i have to emphasize that #i just genuinely love it and think it's a brilliant work and thus will shill every chance i get #please. do yourself a favor. read it if you're able #if i were more financially stable i would genuinely offer to buy it for folks LMAO #also that last wegg drawing is a Tumblr Exclusive LOL i posted it just to twitter circle previously due to shyness

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possumsandprose · 1 year

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Elriel Part 5: Darkness and Light

Just in time to post this-enjoy!

TW: none, just fluff

Word count: <1K

I let out a sigh. I had been painting for hours now, had been working on this particular piece for weeks. Nyx sat on the floor beside me, babbling happily. I smiled at him. He truly was the greatest joy in my life, and I had found motherhood to be such a gift. I scooped him up to prevent him from knocking over my paint bottles, gave him a swift kiss on the forehead, and then set him down on top of the dresser where he could see my painting. "What do you think, my little one?" I asked him. He laughed, and fluttered his tiny wings. Rhys had said he would be able to fly by the end of the year, and I smiled ruefully at the destruction that was sure to come then. I looked back at the painting. I didn't know why I'd decided to paint it, but it felt...right. On the left side was Elain, gorgeous as ever, surrounded by a golden light. Her curls were illuminated by a halo of shimmering sunlight, and around her flowers bloomed, all different kinds-roses, lilies, irises, hydrangeas, daffodils, and some I couldn't even name, had only seen her tending to in the garden. On the right was Azriel, wreathed in shadows, his massive wings unfurled, and around him, broken weapons, bones of all shapes, and pools of blood decorated the canvas. But in the middle...in the middle their hands were joined, and the shadows and light melded together. I thought back to when I had first seen them together, and had believed that Elain would cling to Azriel, and that her light would compliment his darkness so well. Elain needed someone who would not underestimate her, who would believe in her, who would truly see her as no one else had. And Az...Az needed a friend, someone who was kind and gentle, unlike the rough upbringing he was given. He needed someone who could care for him, and would not be scared of the power he wielded, nor put off by the scars he bore. We of the inner circle loved him, of course, but he needed something-or someone-else. And I thought Elain to be that someone, and my mind never changed.

I packed away my art supplies, set out my painting to dry, and scooped Nyx up. I considered going straight back home, but I remembered that Elain had asked me to stop by and help her taste some new recipes. I looked at the clock. I would be about an hour earlier than intended, but I'm sure she wouldn't mind. I winnowed swiftly, leaving Nyx in Mor's care, then directly into the living room of the townhouse. I inhaled deeply. It smelled lovely as always, with the scent of freshly baked cookies, warm buttery pastries, and the sweet scent of fresh jam. Elain had recently gotten into jam making, after Nuala and Cerridwen had pointed out that particular use of the fresh fruit she had harvested from her trees. I walked to the window and looked out at the orange grove. And...there. Elain was on the ground, carefully mulching the trees, and flying on the top, picking oranges from the trees, was Azriel. I watched them for a minute, Elain telling some story I couldn't hear, and Azriel listening with rapt attention. As the shadows drifted down, swirling through her hair, dancing around her fingers, evening out the mulch, she smiled, and blew a kiss to the small black wisps. Az landed next to her, and set down the baskets. They walked over to a bench, Elain still talking. They sat, and Elain was almost glowing with excitement, her joy nearly manifesting in physical form. And Az, he was the reason she shined so brightly. I was sure that Elain could have told that story to any one of us and not been as happy as she was telling it to him. I thought back to my painting, of their joined hands, and if I had had any doubts before, none still remained, for I knew that Azriel's darkness let Elain's light shine, and her light brought out the best of his darkness. I smiled, for I knew that they would be happy, happy just like Rhys and I were, and I was so joyful that they would be the next match in our happy family.

Taglist: @elriel-month

A/N: This one was super duper short, but I really loved it and enjoyed writing from Feyre's POV. Thank you all for your support so far, it means a lot <3

#elriel #elain x azriel #elriel fanfiction #pro elriel #elriel month 2023 #elrielmonth23

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bonescribes · 1 year

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𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐀𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐂 ! ! ( season edition ! )

* repost , don’t reblog. bold; always applies. italicise; sometimes applies.

𝑺𝑼𝑴𝑴𝑬𝑹. — cold drinks after a long day , hiking in the woods just outside the city , swimming in a lake , spontaneous picnics , the warmth of the sun making you drowsy , the buzz of insects flying by , blooming wildflowers , the scent of bark and leaves , snapping twigs in half , a blade of grass between your teeth, light sunburn on the tip of your nose , barking dogs , rosy cheeks , children laughing in the distance , sunflowers reaching for the sun , fresh ice tea , resting your head on someone’s lap , warm yellow , the sound of waves crashing .

𝑨𝑼𝑻𝑼𝑴𝑵. — cool breezes that feel just right , piles of leaves , rust red , oversized sweaters , knitted blankets , pumpkin spice , the scent of freshly baked goods , open windows letting the fresh air in , cold cheeks and hands , rain boots , carving pumpkins , soft scarves , a comforting embrace from an old friend , the scent right before a storm , wild mushrooms , ripening berries , a cup of hot tea , purring cats , blueberry muffins , braided hair , wearing your partner’s shirts , an alarm pulling you from slumber , burning candles .

𝑾𝑰𝑵𝑻𝑬𝑹. — the crackling of a fireplace , hot chocolate with marshmallows , the smell of fresh cookies , fuzzy socks , beanies pulled over your ears , a strong pot of coffee , dark clouds gathering on the horizon , the sound of wind shaking the ship house , melting ice , snowflakes in your hair , melancholy afternoons , curling up with a book while the world stands still , cough drops on the nightstand , excitedly giving gifts , long coats with deep pockets , pale blues , flour on the tip of your nose , warm soup , stubble turning into a beard , the scent of leather .

𝑺𝑷𝑹𝑰𝑵𝑮. — the smell after it rains , waking to the sound of birds singing , the crack of thunder , soft pinks , energy drinks or protein shakes , the scent of fabric softener , tidying up , the sweet taste of fresh fruit , competitive spark in eyes , sand beneath your feet , sweat on your brow , catching your breath after running , light green , frosted cupcakes , electricity in the air , forbidden kisses , the sharp hunger after a work out , daring romances , high ponytails , unexpected storms , picking flowers , running barefoot in the grass , iced coffee .

tagged: @thuganomxcs (i am in love with your new dash icon lmao) tagging: @goldspun, @immolatiism, @trattcria, @bishonenprince, @vancreux, @zelotae, && you ! <3

#❀ ooc .#i love these dash games the most i think tbh

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thesugarclubs-blog · 1 year

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Say You Do - Bucky Barnes x OC

warnings: tfatws-bucky, friends with hidden feelings, tension, pure fluff

word count: 8k

WP: https://www.wattpad.com/1338893019-say-you-do-jayden

Masterlist

Jayden twirled around her freshly-made cookie smelling kitchen, humming the theme song to Jurassic Park to herself as she pulled the hot baking sheet from the oven. Her blonde waves flowed freely over the shoulders of her oversized stolen grey hoodie. It was her favourite day of the week, finally. Well, sort of. Her neighbour and forced best friend had cancelled their weekly movie night the week prior and had promised to make it up to her.

Having a superhero as a friend came with its perks and its downfalls. One was the cancellation of plans when the world needed saving. She didn’t mind and wouldn’t have it any other way, but the disappointment still crept in each time.

She placed the still warm cookies on a white ceramic plate and slid it onto the counter next to the mountain of other snacks that she had ready, a soft smile gracing her pink lips.

Just as she was checking that everything was ready and to Bucky's liking, hoping with everything in her that he'd be able to make it this time because she missed him, the ding of the elevator outside her door was loud enough to alert her.

She sprung into action, hurriedly opening the door and catching the super soldier with a baby pink sticker in his hand raised and ready to place it on her door.

Jayden let her gaze wander down to his hand and the sticker that he was still holding.

"A pink hibiscus flower?" she asked with a little smile on her lips.

"Yes. It reminded me of you, so I convinced Sam that we need to go back to that shop before flying back home. He wasn’t very happy, mumbling mean things the entire time. But he’ll get over it. He always does." Bucky's eyes were fixed on the hibiscus sticker as well, a slight blush on his cheeks.

"Why did it remind you of me?" Jayden now raised her gaze and when Bucky tilted his head upwards as well, their eyes met. Something sparkled in his ocean blue ones, but she couldn't tell what it was.

"The hibiscus is a symbol of positivity, joy and cheer. Thought that was fitting." Bucky answered, his lips curling up in a shy but visible smile.

“You’ve obviously forgotten what I’m like before coffee,” she teased.

“I tried to block it out,” he rolled his eyes jokingly, both of them chuckling.

“You’re still gonna come over later, right?” Jay asked, seeing how exhausted he seemed, preparing herself for his refusal as he sighed deeply.

“I…” Bucky just couldn’t let her down, no matter how tired he was, “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” She smiled softly when he suddenly reached out and stuck the pink flower sticker on the tip of her nose.

"Hey, that's not where it belongs" Jay scrunched up her nose looking at the very amused Bucky in front of her. His normally stoic and no-nonsense kind of expression that seemed to be permanently etched on his face softened and a smile formed on his lips. A smile that was only reserved for a few select people and she was happy that she was one of them. Because when he smiled warmth bloomed in her heart. That smile was her own personal sunshine.

With a shrug of his shoulders, the super soldier backed a couple of steps down the hall, smirking and sparkling his ocean blue eyes at her, "You’re rarely awake when I get home, and this way it keeps its sticky-ness for when you put it in your photo album that you keep under your coffee table."

Jayden narrowed her eyes, "Hey stop snooping around my apartment!"

"It's not my fault you take forever in the shower, I had to amuse myself somehow while I waited for you to be ready," he quipped, resulting in the tea towel in her hand being flung at him, pulling a genuine laugh from his chest, "nice sweater by the way."

Her tongue swiped her bottom lip as she crossed her arms over her chest with a smirk, "Thanks, I stole it from this old man that lives in the building."

Bucky tsked, opening his apartment door, "Stealing from old men... I should have you arrested."

“Would you visit me in prison?” Jayden asked, batting her eyelashes, “smuggle me in some contraband?”

Bucky tilted his head as he thought about it, leaning in his doorway with his arms folded across his chest. The leather of his jacket pulled tight across his biceps and Jay’s gaze lingered there until Bucky clicked his tongue.

“If you were good,” he replied with a tired but cheeky grin. He pushed off into his apartment with a wave of his hand, “I’ll be right there, don’t start without me.”

Jayden threw him a salute, matching Bucky’s grin as he disappeared behind his closing apartment door.

“Remember, comfy clothes or no admittance!”

“Yeah, yeah,” she heard, followed by Bucky’s soft chuckle echoing across the hall.

"Oh and Bucky?" she now yelled in the empty hallway. His door was almost closed, but she heard it open again and his head appeared behind the door frame. She needed to chuckle, he looked like an alerted meerkat.

"Yes, my favorite sweater-stealing neighbor?" he asked before winking at her. There they were again: the butterflies in her stomach.

"I've made your favorite cookies. You know, the chocolate chip ones from my Grandma’s recipe. So make sure your sweatpants are flexible enough." she smiled at him while swirling the tea towel around so that it was resting on her left shoulder.

Bucky's eyes widened slightly and Jay saw his tongue licking over his bottom lip. This swift movement made the butterflies in her stomach flutter and she had problems ignoring the heat in her lower belly.

"Give me 20 seconds to change. Don't eat them without me!" he responded, before disappearing into his apartment. Jay could hear loud noises from it as if he was running through the main room and bumping into some furniture.

She looked cross-eyed at the sticker that still sat on the end of her nose and huffed out a chuckle and removed it, tapping it between her finger and thumb as she went back inside and retrieved her album from under the coffee table. She flicked through the pages, photographs of her family, her friends, and Bucky…all interspersed with stickers of all shapes and sizes, each one representing a promise kept.

Finding one of her favourite pictures of Bucky, where he scowled like the grumpiest little shit she’d ever seen, she smiled to herself before sticking the pink flower over the top of the image so it looked like he was wearing it as a hair clip. Satisfied with her devilry, Jay headed back into the kitchen to check over the snacks one last time.

Hearing heavy footsteps in her hall, she looked up to find Bucky in a pair of gray sweatpants and a black t-shirt, his silver dog tags imprinting on the fabric from the inside. His feet were clad in a pair of green dinosaur socks that Jay had given him last Christmas which he swore to burn after Sam and her had spent 10 full minutes cackling at the expression he made when he opened his present. The man that looked so tough and hard on the outside was wearing dinosaur socks.

Jayden pursed her lips suppressing a smile, "Look at youuu in your cute little dino socks, adorable."

She couldn't help but chuckle at how Bucky's eyes narrowed as he looked down at her bunny slipper clad feet and lifted his gaze back up with a raised brow.

"Really Harper? Have you seen your feet?"

"You got a problem with my bunnies, Barnes?" she challenged with a smirk.

He raised his hands in mock defense, shaking his head with a laugh. "Me? I could never, you look adorable in them." Jayden proudly smiled and shimmied her shoulders with a giggle, "I know."

Their friendship had stemmed from small neighbourly quips at each other in the hallway into actively bullying each other. It was one of those things that she wouldn't have accepted from anyone else besides him because they each knew that it came from a place of friendship. Sam had said a few times how they fight like an old married couple, and Peter once asked Sam if they were flirting or fighting. But that was just how their friendship was.

Sure, on occasion Jayden had imagined what his lips felt like, or what it would be like to walk down the street holding his hand. To keep up those late night chats they had, laying next to each other in her bed. The pesky butterflies crept into her chest once more, igniting a soft smile to dance at the corners of her lips.

"Earth to Jay, hello..." Bucky's voice pulled her out of her head and she turned her hazel eyes to meet him. "You okay?"

"What? Yeah of course!" She chuckled nervously, shaking her head, "Can you grab the snacks from the counter? I'll get the movie set up since you can't work my TV."

“Sure thing,” Bucky smiled, “and I tried okay? Not my fault you bought the most complicated TV to exist.”

“You literally press two buttons to get Netflix up, Buck.”

“Two buttons too many,” Bucky grumbled. “And don’t steal my favourite blanket,” he added as he left her to the TV and moved to retrieve the snacks.

Jayden laughed and decided not to tell him that it was a little too late for that. The knitted blanket was still laid over her bed where it had been tangled with her duvet for the past week like it always was whenever Bucky went away.

She went to fetch it once the TV was set up, laying it neatly over the armrest on Bucky’s side of the couch and ignoring the warmth that flooded her at the thought of it holding his scent again.

"What about 'Jurassic Park'? Since you’re already wearing those cute little dino socks. Whoever gave you those really has good taste." she snickered.

Bucky rolled his eyes a little at her, before answering: "Sure. If they don't have any movies about annoying little bunnies, we can go for the dinosaurs."

"You won't regret it, I promise. Also, the music is great. Gives me goosebumps every damn time." Jay said with a little too much excitement, making Bucky laugh when he returned with his hands full of snacks. As soon as Bucky settled next to her on the couch she placed the bowl of chips on her lap and pressed play.

"Is it even realistic? Recreating dinosaurs? From blood within a mosquito?" the brunette man asked with furrowed brows before turning to grab the plate full of chocolate chip cookies he’d set on the coffee table.

"You tell me, Mr. Dinosaur. You're over a hundred years old and still walking around my apartment very alive. What mosquito did they use to recreate you?" Jay giggled, but she stopped the moment she saw Bucky's shoulders tensing and halting his movements. He turned his face her way, looking at her with slightly widened eyes.

"Sorry... I didn't mean it like that," she added with guilt written all over her face.

Suddenly Bucky's face changed and he burst into laughter. Jay furrowed her eyebrows in confusion. Then she heard him hum within his laughter, "You should see your face. All concerned and sorry and that shit. I’m messing with you, little bunny. But don't call me a dinosaur again, or this old man won't share the cookies with you."

"NOT FAIR!" Jay exclaimed before showing him her best theatrically exaggerated pout.

“Anyway,” she continued, not able to hold even a pretend pout for long around him, “you’re the science nerd. Do you think they could do that?”

He sat back with the plate of cookies in hand sliding one her way.

“I actually read something about that,” Bucky hummed. “They’ve tried to recreate the genome of a woolly mammoth but the DNA is too old and degraded. They’d need to create an artificial womb too because an elephant’s womb isn’t close enough to…”

“Oh my God shut up already!” Jay whined in mock distress. “My brain’s leaking out of my ears!”

"Don't be so dramatic, Harper."

Jay fake yawned right in his amused face, "You're a nerd, Barnes."

He snatched the remote from her hand and turned up the volume.

Soon they were engulfed by the familiar melodies and Jay snuggled herself deeper into the couch.

Jayden looked Bucky's way every so often as the movie went on. Watching his reactions to them was probably her favorite part of movie night next to simply enjoying his company.

In those moments, he wasn't the hardened shell of a man who had been ripped away from his life at twenty-eight and forced to fight and kill. He wasn't Sergeant Barnes or the Winter Soldier, he was just Bucky.

Her Bucky.

Her grumpy but incredibly sweet and selfless neighbor turned best friend.

At one point when she was watching him, that soft smile that seemed permanently plastered on her face when he was around grew on her lips once more, Bucky looked over and caught her hazel eyes. His brows furrowed and he looked over her features with confusion.

"What?" He mumbled in the middle of a bite of one of her cookies.

Jayden let out a giggle and shook her head, "Nothing..."

As he reached forward and grabbed the remote, she couldn't help her eyes as they wandered to the stretch of his t-shirt around his biceps and she didn't even notice that he'd managed to pause the movie. What was wrong with her tonight? It was never this hard to push these thoughts away.

"Jay..." Bucky uttered quietly.

"What?" She snapped her gaze back to his face, noting the slight concern hidden behind his ocean blue eyes.

"Talk to me, you seem off tonight," he nudged her knee gently.

Jayden breathed out a chuckle, "I'm not off, I'm just... happy your home, safe," her lips pulled into a straight line and she turned her eyes down as she fiddled with her fingers, "you don't usually see this part of when you get home from missions..." she admitted quietly.

Bucky huffed out a sigh beside her and Jayden wiggled a little closer, her head falling against the back of the couch. She leeched Bucky’s warmth as she pressed alongside him.

“Talk to me, sweetheart.”

“It just takes me a while, usually, once I see the sticker and I know you’re home… I kinda, I don’t know, fester in it. Every so often I have to remind myself that you’re just across the hall, sleeping it off and I guess having you here right now, so soon after— I’m not used to it. I’m happy you’re here… with me. And now I’m rambling— fuck sake.”

“Hey, I like it when you ramble,” Bucky chuckled, “and I’m happy I’m here too. If it wasn’t always the middle of the night when I get home, you know this is the first place I’d come, right?”

Jayden nodded, plastering on a smile as she rested her head on Bucky’s shoulder and grabbed the remote to press play.

“Pass me a cookie,” she mumbled as the classic music started up again, squeezing Bucky’s arm in thanks when he handed her two and pressed a kiss to her head.

It wasn't unusual for him to kiss her on her forehead, there was even a time when he’d kissed her on the cheek, it was the first time he'd tasted her cookies. The elation lighting up his face that day as he pressed a mouth to her dimpled cheek and left a few crumbs behind as he tried to chew the cookie off was still seared in her mind.

But this kiss got to her. Maybe it was because it came after being open and vulnerable with him instead of avoiding this topic to relieve him of carrying another burden, worrying about her when his shoulders already bore so much weight.

She willed the sting of tears welling in her eyes away when Bucky whispered a quiet "I'm okay, I'm here" with his lips brushing over the skin of her forehead tenderly before backing away and slumping back against the couch, the warmth radiating from his close body a comforting reminder that he is indeed okay and there with her.

Bucky's eyes were fixed on the screen again, where the characters were currently facing a much too aggressive Tyrannosaurus Rex.

"Every time..." Jayden started, before swallowing the lump in her throat. "... every time you're gone for a mission I’m concerned you're not coming home. With all those aliens and bad guys out there. I know you’re a super soldier and very skilled in everything that you do, but still. When I hear movements in the hallway I always hope, even pray, that it's you returning from your mission safely."

It had taken her a lot of courage to speak out these words in front of him. Tonight something felt different, although she couldn't point a finger at what exactly. From the corner of her eye, she could see Bucky grab the remote control and pause the movie again. Then he turned his face towards her, studying her features for a few seconds.

Jay had an inner debate to crack a joke to lighten up the mood, but before she could even open her mouth, he spoke.

"I will always come home. I might be battered and bruised some days, but I would never forgive myself if I miss a movie night with my favorite neighbor."

There was that smile again. The one he had reserved just for her. And the moment she saw it, the concern in her heart was washed away and she couldn't feel anything else other than happiness and warmth.

“Can I ask you something, Jay?” He said, his face serious.

Jay swallowed and nodded, sure that he could hear her heart beat out its rapid rhythm. If she’d been paying more attention to him and not the way his hand fiddled with the edge of the blanket she’d have seen the devilish twinkle in his eye.

“Would you rather be eaten by a velociraptor or a T-Rex?”

“What?!” She asked, her brows drawn in confusion.

“I was thinking probably T-Rex ‘cause it’d take fewer bites,” he smirked and with that he pulled his arms inside his shirt and screeched like a dinosaur, scrabbling at the blanket as if he were trying to attack her.

"How are you gonna get me with those short arms, Buck? You can't even clap."

Jay jumped up, running towards her bedroom knowing full well she had no chance against a super soldier and war veteran. The screeching came closer as she cackled her way into her bedroom, Bucky not even a foot away from her.

Jay jumped up on her bed but before she could grab a hold of her headboard, Bucky had already circled her waist with his strong arm, making it impossible to escape.

"Gotcha."

"Cheater."

Bucky gasped dramatically, "I would never!"

Before Jayden could answer, Bucky flung her body over his shoulder pulling giggles from her chest effortlessly. The smell of his musk filled her nose as she wrapped her arms around him from upside down, feeling the outlines of his sculpted stomach beneath her fingers. Every nerve in her body ignited and her brain suddenly felt fuzzy with romantic thoughts of him once more.

Her body was flung easily and softly back onto the couch, with Bucky's hand cradling her head. He towered over her, his blue eyes tracing her features as their gazes locked. He brushed a strand of blonde hair off her forehead and smirked at her from above.

"I win," he quipped.

"You cheated, super soldier," Jayden answered quietly, trying to calm her pounding heart.

She watched as he smiled at her, his dimples showing themselves.

“I improvised,” he countered. “There’s a difference.”

Jayden sat up and rolled her eyes as Bucky sat back down beside her, watching her from the corner of his eye. “What on earth are you planning in that brain of yours?”

She grinned, discreetly stretching out her fingers before launching herself at him, attacking his sides until he was a giggling, writhing mess beneath her.

“I was thinkin’,” she began, as he caught his breath, “that you should know better than to let your guard down, Sergeant.”

“And here I was thinkin’ I was in my safe space,” Bucky countered, nudging her softly.

His expression was still playful, blue irises sparkling, the happy lines at the corners of his eyes deep as he flashed her his usual lopsided smile. She loved him like this when the burden of being who he was seemed to lift and most of his worries was how many cookies he could eat. Proven right then as he shoved another in his mouth, humming happily.

“You wanna order dinner? You can’t live on cookies.”

“Watch me,” Bucky mumbled around his mouthful.

"Buckyyyyyyy." Jayden whined. He was staring right into her hazel eyes, grabbing another cookie and placing it in his mouth. It was provoking but still adorable. Almost childish.

Jay loved to see the shell of the strong and resolved soldier crumble in front of her every time he took a step into her apartment. As if she was the only one with which he could be his true self. The nerdy, funny and sarcastic Bucky. The one that ate way too many cookies, complained about it the entire day after, but still would do it exactly the same the next time.

"Jshsai 'hen yu hngri" he mumbled with now one and a half cookies in his mouth, but Jayden couldn't understand a single word.

"Stop speaking with your mouth full of cookies!" she snickered and slapped his vibranium arm playfully.

"Just say when you're hungry and we can order dinner," he repeated after opening his mouth a little and sticking out his tongue to show her that it was empty this time.

He laughed as Jay shook out the sting from her hand, a disgruntled frown on her face.

“I’m hungry,” she grumped, pulling out her phone. “What are we eating? Chinese? Thai? Moroccan?”

“Chinese,” Bucky mumbled around yet another cookie, “and don’t look at me like that. I have a fast metabolism.”

Shaking her head with a chuckle Jay clicked on to the app and ordered their usual Chinese food.

“It’ll be thirty minutes,” she confirmed.

Bucky made a face, but then smiled, "I don't think I'll ever figure those damn phones out, but ordering takeout without having to talk to someone?" He held his hand to his heart with a happy sigh, "Best invention of the modern age."

Jay giggled, stretching out on the couch beside him, "Can't argue with that."

She blinked at the TV screen, "Oh, shit, we forgot to pause the movie!" The credits were scrolling across the screen.

Bucky smirked, pulling his arms back into his sleeves, "Bucky Rex couldn't reach the remote!" He growled, making Jayden collapse in a fit of giggles.

She smiled and shook her head as she caught her breath, "You're ridiculous, but you're cu- that was cute."

Jayden, what is wrong with you?

She felt the heat at her slip-up creeping up her neck and she was sure her face was just reaching tomato red as he looked back at her with a bashful smile on his lips.

"Jay, would you mind if I take a quick shower while the food gets here? Actually try to wash that mission off, you know?"

Jayden shook her head and gestured to the bathroom, "S'all yours, I'll get plates and everything ready," she bounded off the couch, and didn't make direct eye contact with him as she grabbed the emptied bowls and made her way toward the kitchen.

She could feel Bucky's blue eyes following her movements through her apartment, walking behind her as he brushed past her and went into the bathroom. Jayden leaned both her hands onto the counter and closed her eyes, huffing out a breath. Why was this so hard tonight?

The bathroom door creaked back open and Bucky's head poked back out, "Hey Jayden..."

Sucking in a sharp breath, she smiled once more and turned around to meet his eyes.

"Thank you, for tonight..." his lips pulled into a thin line and he looked down to the floor, "I uh, really needed this after that mission and you... you really came through"

“You’re welcome,” she answered easily. “We can do this anytime you need to relax.”

Bucky grinned at her before closing the door again, then the sound of the shower turning on was able to be heard.

Meanwhile, Jayden leaned against the counter with a groan and ram her hands over her face. This is so hard! Every time I look at him or he gets close, my heart feels like it’s going to explode.

She nibbled at her lip, turning to watch the bathroom door like it was going to miraculously tell her how to deal with her feelings.

The faint sound of Bucky humming echoed from the bathroom and Jayden sighed with a quiet chuckle, resigning herself back to her task of getting plates.

Bucky was her best friend. He was goofy despite his hardship, soft when he wanted to be, smart as hell, and — not that she would ever dream of telling him — the light of her fucking life. And the thought of ever letting that slip? Terrifying.

The shower shut off before she could dwell on it anymore, and she listened simultaneously for Bucky emerging and their takeout arriving. Bucky appeared first as she was setting plates and cutlery on the coffee table. His damp hair glistened and his squeaky clean skin glowed as he padded back into the living room smelling of her raspberry shampoo.

“Better?” She asked as he flopped back on the couch, yanking her down with him.

“Mhmm,” he hummed, the sound vibrating from his chest and setting her body tingling as he hugged her tight, “thank you.”

"You smell pretty... fruity!" she chuckled in his ear, while he was still holding her close.

"I know. I like that smell on you, so I feel honored to have a part of you on me now." he whispered back mischievously. His arms let go of her small figure with gazes locked. Something shimmered in the depth of his ocean blue ones. She had seen it earlier today as well.

A drop of water dropped off of a slightly longer strand on the front, trailing down his forehead and into his eye. Bucky blinked several times while grimacing his entire face.

The weird tension between them was gone when they both burst into laughter.

Keep it together, Jay! He's your best friend. A hot one. But your best friend. You don't want to ruin this by acting weird today.

Her hormones were driving her crazy today for no reason. Damn hormones.

Bucky must have noticed the shift in her brain because where his normal tense crease in his brow sat returned for a brief moment, his eyes raking over her features. The butterflies in her stomach turned into a tornado as he reached for her his hand coming dangerously, well as dangerous as this gentleman could be, to her cheeks. He tugged gently on a strand of her hair, pulling back and holding up a bright blue ball of fluff from her knitted blanket.

A grin spread across his features, "you could make a wish with this," he chuckled, sucking all of the air out of her chest. She loved the sound of him laughing, even when it was the deep low rumble he had just let out.

"It's not an eyelash," she quipped through a shaky breath.

Bucky shrugged, "I'm deeming it so, c'mon darlin, close those pretty eyes and make a wish."

So she did. Jay allowed her eyes to flutter closed and wished for the one thing she’d never say out loud. She opened her eyes again to see Bucky staring at her, his head slightly tilted, and a soft expression on his face.

“What did you wish for?” He asked.

“Ha, like I’m gonna tell you!” Jay snickered, smacking the back of her hand gently against his chest.

“Some best friend you are,” he grumbled with a playful pout.

“Yeah, you just remember that the next time you want some cookies baked,” she retorted, laughing at his look of feigned horror.

“Bunny please, I’m beggin’ ya! You don’t gotta be so cruel!” He whined.

Jayden sat up straighter, trying to look as serious about her threat as she could before she crumbled back into laughter, "As if I could ever deny those puppy eyes!"

He cackled then tackled her, tickling her as they tumbled off the couch, Jayden laughing more as she squirmed under him.

A sharp knock at the door made them both freeze, Bucky hovering over her as she panted. Had half an hour really gone by that fast? As one, they both swallowed, the air sizzling between them before another knock broke them from the moment.

"C-coming!" Jay called out as Bucky moved, standing and holding out his hand for her.

She placed her hand in his and felt like every nerve fiber in her body was shocked at the contact. He tightened his grip on her as he helped her get to her feet, a sea of blue once again locked on her hazel eyes. Jayden whispered a thanks and beelined her way towards the door trying to calm down her racing heart.

She took the takeout bags and thanked their delivery person, turning around and shutting the door with her foot. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Bucky following her movements. All the while, Jayden set the bags down on the free spot on the coffee table without so much as a breath in Bucky's direction.

Kneeling in front of the table she tucked her legs under her as she settled in her spot before opening up their takeout containers.

"Jay, are you ok?" Bucky asked as he sat down on the floor next to her.

"Mhm yeah no no I'm fine, I am starving though. Aren't you?" she raced out.

She watched as Bucky narrowed his eyes at her, before nodding once and turning his attention to the food in front of them.

"I'm always hungry," he finally answered, busying his hands as he helped her unpack the food.

Smooth, Harper, real smooth she thought to herself, grabbing the remote from under some boxes. She flipped through Netflix until she found the second Jurassic Park movie, turning it on without consulting her friend. He'd said when they started things that he trusted her to show him things the way she thought was best and she took that responsibility seriously.

"Ok so, I know we didn't totally finish the first one but you didn't miss much, just the ending bits, but you should be fine enough to understand the second one," Jayden rambled, still keeping her eyes on the table or on the TV, anywhere but meeting his gaze.

“I’m sure it’ll be just as chaotic as the first one was,” Bucky mused as he opened a packet of soy sauce and poured it over his rice. “Did you get those crunchy roll things?” He stirred up his rice and swallowed thickly. They were so close earlier. So so close.

“Is the hot actress in this one too?” Bucky asked as Jayden passed him the carton he was looking for. She arched her brow and Bucky thanked her with a grin, wiggling his own eyebrows playfully.

“The blonde one? Laura Dern?”

“Yeah.” He nodded, suddenly hopping up and heading to the fridge. Jayden watched as he grabbed two beers, flicking the caps off with his left thumb.

He handed one down to her as he settled back on the floor, a little closer than before.

“No. But this one has Julianne Moore. I think you’ll like her.”

Bucky hummed, eyeing her with thought.

“We’ll see,” he replied, shoving a crispy roll in his mouth with a shrug.

"You liked Laura Dern?" She asked fumbling with her chopsticks as she tried to clamp down on a bite of noodles.

His eyes flickered from the screen to her. That mischievous grin returned to his features and she couldn't help but laugh with his cheek chimpunked full of crispy roll. Bucky swallowed with a nod, "why wouldn't I? She's blonde, brilliant, feisty, funny, kind..." His voice trailed off as he took a bite of rice, "reminds me of someone I know."

Jay's eyes widened for a moment looking from the screen to him just as a piece of shrimp from her chopsticks flew onto the table. He couldn't have meant her... right? She stammered as she moved to pick up the meat from the table, her cheeks turning a bright shade of pink as she tossed it back into her container and stared back at the tv.

"You okay over there?" His voice suddenly behind her as he scooted back onto the couch, "Did you forget how to use chopsticks between now and the last movie night?" Bucky teased.

She turned to glare at him, only earning herself one of the scrunched nose laughs she loved so much.

"There she is," he muttered taking another bite of rice.

Picking up a piece of water chestnut Jay squinted a little to aim and then flicked it towards Bucky’s face. His hand whipped up and he caught the veggie missile with his chopsticks half an inch before it would have splattered against his face. He grinned and wiggled his eyebrows before popping the water chestnut into his mouth and crunching it.

“Cocky little shit,” Jay grumbled.

“You love it,” he sassed back.

“You wish,” she muttered, rolling her eyes. “Shut up and watch the movie,” but she couldn’t help smiling at Bucky’s happy and carefree expression.

"As you wish," he murmured, smiling when she raised an eyebrow at him. "What?"

"Did you just quote the Princess Bride?"

He blushed a little, "Maybe?"

Jay smiled to herself. He'd pretended to hate it when they'd watched it, but she figured that was just a remnant of the era he'd grown up in.

"I might have watched it again, on my own," he admitted, putting his empty container to the side and moving to the couch. She almost didn't hear the last bit, "Three more times."

She couldn't help the laughter that bubbled up from inside her, her head falling back against the couch cushion behind her. Pure joy rang through her at the picture of Bucky sitting at home watching The Princess Bride and very likely, as he's done with other movies they've watched together more than once, mumbling the words with the actors.

"I told you you'd love it," she smiled, "why didn't you tell me? I love that movie."

"Next time I feel like watching it I'll come get ya, promise. Watching movies is better with you anyway."

Jayden tilted her head to the side and met his glinting blue stare, "I'm holding you to that"

A comfortable silence fell between them as she continued eating her food and Bucky went back to snacking on the cookies. She wasn't sure how he did it, but a small part of her was jealous at the amount he could eat. Her eyes flickered over him, being careful not to draw his attention away from the screen. He really was pretty, even when he was exhausted. Jayden knew he was trying to hide it but at this point, there wasn't much she didn't know about Bucky Barnes.

Lightly, she jabbed her elbow into his calf and smirked, "Save some of those! Or just don't tell Sam and Peter that I made them. They'll be so mad at me if you eat them all!" Jay breathed a laugh.

Bucky shoved another one into his mouth and shrugged, "What cookies?" he grumbled with a playful smile.

Jayden rolled her eyes and got up, situating herself back onto the couch beside Bucky and stealing part of the blanket from him.

“You are such a brat, you know that?” She laughed. “I’m going to have to start hiding some of the cookies so they can have some too.”

Bucky looked over at her with wide eyes. “You wouldn’t…”

“I would. They like them too, and you like to hog them.”

Bucky frowned slightly. He always thought Jayden’s cookies were special. They reminded him of his mom’s cookies from when he was young.

Jay sighed. “Are you really going to give me the puppy eyes?”

Bucky turned and rolled onto his back, placing his head right in her lap. “Jay…”

“Don’t think you get to act all adorable and I’ll give you everything, Barnes. I don’t even know how you do that. This big, burly man and you turn into a pussycat at the drop of a hat.”

Bucky giggled, all sleepy, a yawn stealing his laugh as his eyelashes fluttered closed.

“Only for you, my little bluejay.”

“Sweet talker.”

Bucky grinned up at her, scrunching his nose before getting comfy.

“Shush now, I wanna watch this one properly.”

“You’re almost aslee—“

“Shush.”

She held back the laugh that would've escaped her seeing his ridiculously serious face as he shushed her, shaking her head as she tried to calm herself at his proximity.

It's no wonder I'm in love with this goof, she thought to herself gazing over his features. He tried holding back another yawn but she saw him and held back a teasing smirk when he glanced up at her again with a pink tinge to his cheeks.

"You can sleep if you want," Jayden offered. Settling her back comfortably against the couch and fumbling with where to put her hands before letting one rest on his hair and dropping the other to her side.

His voice was quiet as he answered with stubborn determination.

"Nope. I'm wide awake."

"Okay."

They fell quiet knowing that he would fall asleep anyway.

Jay had finally settled the hammering of her heart as the movie continued. She hadn't realized that her fingers were combing softly through his hair until the sound of the T-rexes roaring jolted her out of whatever trance she had fallen into. Her body froze as she glanced down at Bucky and as she figured, he was completely asleep.

His lips were parted slightly and the soft snores coming from him only made her smile. She appreciated the small smattering of freckles that danced along his cheeks and the few that painted the bridge of his nose. God she was in love with him.

"I'm not sure when it happened," she whispered barely audibly, her eyes flickered to the screen as terror ensued before moving her eyes back to him hoping she hadn't woken him up with her voice. Jay felt like this was going to be the only time she'd ever get the chance to tell him and even if he was sleeping she hoped it would relieve some of the ache her heartfelt every time he left, "I don't know if it was when you came back tonight, or when you steal this blanket and leave it smelling like you..." her voice trailed off, "or that you trust me enough--" she faltered for a moment, "--even after everything you trusted me into your life..."

What was she doing? Her cheeks warmed with the idea of him. The way his nose scrunched when he laughed or really smiled, how the slightest touch of his fingers on her skin lit her on fire and at the same time gave this overwhelming sense of calm to her body... she had spent so much time working out in her head if he felt the same way and deep down she hoped he did.

"You snuck your way into my heart...and I'm not sure when it happened or how it happened, there's too many moments," she paused taking a deep breath, her fingers still mindlessly combing through his hair and her other hand feeling the gentle rise and fall of his chest as it rested on his side, "but somewhere along the way I fell in love with you..." Jayden's voice was barely a whisper at this point but it felt good to tell him how she felt, even if he was fast asleep in her arms.

Jayden let out a quiet sigh, still moving her fingers through his hair as the movie continued.

There was no way he would ever return those feelings.

Bucky turned his head suddenly, looking up at her. Her heart jumped into her throat, had he heard everything?!

Without breaking eye contact, Bucky tugged her hand away from his hair, pulling it till it was in front of his face, and his lips placed a soft kiss on her palm.

He almost looked scared for a moment, before he spoke. "I didn't think you felt the same way," he paused, licking his lips while he continued to look into her eyes, "But, I love you too."

Jayden sucked in a shaky breath, blinking her hazel eyes at him, unable to break their eye contact. He could have moved or coughed, or something to let her know that he was awake and listening to her. Anything to let her know that she was making a fool out of herself and confessing things that shouldn't be said out loud. She felt like her heart was about to explode out of her chest, the sounds of the movie fading completely away as those words left his perfect lips.

"Bucky..." Her voice came out quieter than intended but she didn't really know what to do with herself.

Maybe she had fallen asleep too and this was all in her head. Had he really returned her feelings or was it some sick joke from her subconscious? Perhaps he was just saying that as to not make it awkward and was getting ready to bolt out the front door.

Bucky shook his head, and sat up, scooting closer and hesitantly taking her hands in his, "Jayden I - I was," he let out a small breath and looked down at their entwined fingers, "a shell of a person when I moved into this building," his voice had a small shake to it, causing Jayden to give his hand a small squeeze, urging him to continue.

"I was lost and alone... Until the day you knocked on my door," Bucky breathed out a laugh and looked up once more, his blue eyes glistening with the threat of sadness, "You brought sunshine and hope back into my otherwise bleak and terrifying life... Of course I fell in love with you," he admitted, bringing a hand up to cup her cheek, tracing a small circle into her skin with his thumb.

Jayden felt tears threaten to fall from her eyes, making them sting. Her heart was pounding hard enough that she knew he would be able to feel it beneath his touch. “Y-you love me?” She couldn’t help but ask, her voice just a whisper.

Bucky only smiled at her as he gently wiped an escaped tear from her cheek. “Of course I love you. I love you so much my heart could bust, my little blue jay. It aches for me to leave you every mission I do. But I am always racing to get back here to you.”

“I don’t— I can’t—“

“Sweetheart,” Bucky murmured, hauling her onto his lap with a soft “c’mere.”

Jayden melted into him, her face tucked into his neck.

“We’re idiots,” she sniffled, her body shaking with Bucky’s as he laughed, rich and rough with sleep.

“I’m an idiot, not tellin’ you sooner.”

“When did you know?” She asked, meeting his gaze — steel blue and full of tender adoration. Her fingers moved to trace his jaw, thumbing at the dimple in his chin.

“That first time you suggested the sticker system,” he admits, “I couldn’t believe— I couldn’t believe someone other than Sam cared enough to know I was home safe and yet there you were. This gorgeous woman, greeted me with the most beaming smile every time she saw me, baking me cookies and— God, Jay. I had fuckin’ butterflies over you every time. Me? Butterflies!”

Jayden sighed, content as she studies his strong features, lined with sleep and love for her.

"Say it again please." She begged. Voice low and thick with emotion and tears.

Jayden's eyes were committing every little detail of his face to her memory, she wouldn't allow herself to ever forget this moment. She wanted it on constant repeat until her last breath.

His ocean eyes were sparkling waters as his face broke out into a smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling and she could have done anything just to see that smile light up his face all the time.

Both his palms lifted to rest on her face, thumbs brushing back and over her skin as he pulled her closer and she felt him take a deep breath before focusing his gaze back on her eyes and whispering softly in the few inches between them.

"I. Love. You."

Her hands rested against his chest, feeling the way his heart thundered under her palm only sent hers into a frenzy. She dipped her head, pressing her forehead to his, her eyes sliding closed, "again," she whispered only to hear the words roll off his tongue like a prayer once more.

Bucky chuckled softly, "I love you, my sweet Bluejay."

Jay's fingers dug gently into the hard muscle of his chest and for once she didn't wonder what he would feel like under the weight of her touch. His breath fanned across her face as he pulled back gently, his eyes a bright shade of blue and the flecks of silver in them glittering back at her, "I really wanna kiss you right now," he admitted, the corners of his mouth quirking up slightly, "can I kiss you?"

She sucked in a breath and barely had time to nod her head before his lips were pressed against hers, slotting perfectly together like the missing piece to the puzzle of her life. It was tentative at first, slow but sweeter than anything she could have imagined. He tasted like chocolate with a bite of the cinnamon she claimed as the secret ingredient in her cookies. Her cookies had never tasted better than how they did on his lips.

He pulled back gently, his hand pushing back the long tendrils of her golden hair behind her ear, "that was..."

"I love you," she blurted in a whisper, remembering that she hadn't said it back in the frenzy and plea for her lips, "I don't know how much of what I said you heard, but I think I've loved you since the day I found the first sticker on my door."

The corners of his mouth quirked up again as he dipped his head and pressed his lips to hers, "The bluejay," he whispered against her gently.

Jayden nodded her head, her hands skating up and around the back of his neck to play with the hair at his nape. His arm snaked around her waist holding her firmly against his chest. "The bluejay," she repeated.

She leaned in to kiss him again, allowing herself to melt into the man before her. The stubborn, flirty, goofy man that bared himself to her with no regrets. He was hers. Her Bucky. Something she never thought would be possible and yet...

She was always unequivocally his.

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