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The Ultimate Guide to Sliding Glass Door Maintenance & Replacement
Discover essential maintenance tips for your sliding glass doors and learn when it's time for a sliding glass door replacement or sliding patio door replacement. From cleaning tracks to considering glass replacement for sliding glass doors, we cover everything you need to keep your doors in optimal condition. Contact Custom Vinyl for a free estimate.
#sliding patio door replacement#glass replacement for sliding glass doors#Sliding Glass Door Maintenance#Sliding Glass Door replacement cost#sliding glass door replacement
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Lawn Edging Landscape in Houston Ideas for a medium-sized, contemporary backyard lawn edging.
#metal edging#gravel#low maintenance landscape#minimalist#sliding glass doors#path#modern landscape design
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5 Key Benefits For Installing Aluminium Doors Brisbane
Doors and windows are not just for protection and ventilation but are more than that as these decide the aesthetics of one's office or business. Therefore, it gets very important to choose doors very wisely while building or renovating.
There is no doubt that there are several materials in the market that claim to be the best for doors but knowing what to choose is quite tough. Let's find out more with the following qualities of Aluminium Doors Brisbane:
1. Highly Durable and Easy to Maintain
Wooden and PVC doors require a lot of maintenance every 3-4 months. On the contrary aluminium doors are not only cheap but also require less maintenance in comparison to the other on the market.
2. Weatherproof
Doors and roofs are two very important things that protect us from extreme weather but if they get damaged it can be very expensive to remedy. Therefore, installing such doors which can withstand these extreme weather conditions such as Aluminium Doors Brisbane you will not only save money in the long run but also have the piece of mind.
3. High Security
Aluminium doors are good not only for houses but also for offices because of their high potential security. These doors can withstand any attack both from inside and outside as these are not made only to provide aesthetics to the office but perform their real function which is to provide safety. Further, these can also be connected with advanced technology to get high-security alerts when they are breached.
4. Customizable
Aluminium doors are very customizable as you can get them in whatever size, color, or design you want. For example, if you want doors for your office where you want the door to fit according to your theme and color then you don't have to worry. At, All Door Solutions we have a wide range available and our experienced staff are there to help you with your needs and door expectations.
5. Environment-Friendly and Affordable
Other options in door material are wood and plastic which cause some degradation to the environment this is not the case with aluminium doors. Aluminium doors are among the most recycled door materials compared to others and also need just 5-6% initial energy to get processed or recycled into a new one. Therefore, if you want to save some money along with the environment then aluminium doors are best for you as they are both budget and eco-friendly.
So, are you ready to take all these advantages of Aluminium Doors in Brisbane? Than Call All Door Solutions today.
#Home Improvement#Commercial Services#Industrial Services#Door and Security Solutions#Maintenance Services#Doors#sliding doors#glass doors
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Modern Landscape Houston Inspiration for a mid-sized modern backyard lawn edging.
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At Universal uPVC Windows and Doors with improved ventilation, energy efficiency, reduced noise pollution, and easy maintenance, these windows are an investment that can improve your quality of life at home. If you want to replace your old windows, consider upgrading to uPVC ventilation windows and experience the benefits yourself.
#UPVC windows#UPVC doors#UPVC#UPVC Sliding Window in Pune#SS railing in Pune#Aluminum Railing in Pune#Glass Railing in Pune#UPVC Window Maintenance Services in Pune
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fear of god
prompt: There's someone outside the spacecraft. You don't remember them being part of the crew. Part 1 masterlist
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In the end, gazing out of the ship's portholes into the dark vastness of space proves to be less comforting than the architects must have originally anticipated. You can attest to this more than most.
Every morning, you get up an hour earlier than the rest of your crew and make your way to the galley to make your morning cup of coffee. A pack of instant crystals into your favorite mug and hot recycled water from the kettle. Sometimes you stay to have breakfast, but often you take your coffee with you to the main viewing deck for your morning sojourn.
There, you sit curled up in the navigator’s chair and stare out of the flight deck window until your breathing levels out. Early morning meditations. With the sun only visible through the rear porthole, the Milky Way stretches out before you, immeasurably vast. Ancient cosmic entities, some already long dead.
Stars fill your field of vision like an intricate latticework of varying brightness. The watery glass warps at the edges, bending the far off light. All things with their propensity for brightness and decay.
A deep, steady hum fills the room. It’s cathartic to be alone. Sometimes, when you look out into the depths of space, you imagine yourself as a cartographer of old, labeling everything beyond this point: “here there be dragons.”
Farah is the first person to join you, the ship’s maintenance technician already washed and dressed, floral cumberbund cinched around her midriff and her headwrap pinned in place. She greets you with a firm nod upon her entry, never one to mince words. In the months since your ship set off on its course for Jupiter, you’ve exchanged all of ten words, most of your conversation one-sided.
She glides in like she’s been up for hours, likely running through her routine maintenance checklist. Monitoring propulsion, life support, and all critical systems. You wouldn’t doubt if she had been, descending into the bowels of the ship and cataloging every minute difference from the day before. Nothing if not thorough.
Graves sweeps in not twenty minutes later, his uniform pressed and ironed. When he glances your way, you shrink under his gaze, self-conscious about something unidentifiable. He is every bit the commander you met briefly back on Earth, never a hair out of place. If he were less intimidating, he’d be insufferable.
“Morning,” you murmur, the mug still close to your lips making your voice reverberate. He doesn’t respond. You wonder if he even heard you greet him. It likely wouldn't matter.
Medic has a different connotation this far from Earth. Hierarchy out in space is typically determined by way of one’s importance to the ship, and the scope of your role does not, unfortunately, include maintaining the ship. What that means, unofficially, is that you speak when spoken to, and not for any other reason.
In the months to come, there may be moments or days when your usefulness is acknowledged, usually much to your colleagues’ chagrin. Though it’s not likely that any of the crew will encounter foreign pathogens while on a hermetically sealed ship in the middle of space, they’re all still susceptible to falls and cuts and worse. Nikolai, the chief engineer on board, had sprained his wrist during the first week of the mission, lending you immediate purpose and validation.
You make way for the second officer when he finally deigns to make an appearance, sliding quietly out of his seat and stepping to the back of the cockpit, back pressed to the wall closest to the door.
“Morning, everyone,” he greets, peppier than the three of you despite his rumpled appearance. His thick mustache twitches with the force of his smile. “Ready to seize another day?”
“Jesus Christ, Keller, let’s tone it down ‘til about ten o’clock, alright?” Graves sighs. He pinches the bridge of his nose as if to ward off a headache.
“Our clocks are off, commander,” Alex jokes, coming over to give him a little shake by the shoulder. It would be insubordination from anyone else. “I’m about ready to eat lunch.”
“Let’s just get through formation and then you can go fill up the bottomless pit you call a stomach.”
The morning briefing never takes up too much time. It’s as much of an excuse to have coffee together as it is to go through the day’s schedule. Graves spends most of the time reviewing the flight course, charting where the ship will be by day’s end.
“Almost through the belt,” Alex remarks, staring down at the monitor in front of him. It’s an incomprehensible jumble when you try to peer over his shoulder, but he must be able to make sense of it.
The crew had been on high alert since entering the torus-shaped region between Mars and Jupiter a month back. For the most part, they needn’t have been so on edge—the average distance of the asteroids in the circumstellar disc between the two planets tended to be quite substantial—but a collision the previous day had reinstated their earlier anxiety.
“Can we switch from manual yet, Farah?” Graves asks from his seat at the helm of the ship.
She shakes her head, lips tightening with frustration. “I still have to figure out what’s going on with cruise control—it’s not responding correctly.”
“Was that from that little ding the other day?” you ask, blurting out the question without thinking.
Farah’s expression is flat when she glances over at you. “That ‘little ding’ nearly took out our communications system altogether.”
You wince at that, staring down at your feet instead. Better to just shut your mouth than make a fool of yourself. Had you not blurted out the question, you might have even surmised the nature of the situation given the comm specialist’s notable absence from the cockpit.
When Nikolai eventually ambles in with a thermos of coffee and deep troughs under his eyes, Farah looks up and frowns. “Where’s Hadir?”
The man shrugs, nonplussed. “Cargo?” he grunts, rolling the toothpick between his teeth around the words.
She sighs. “I’ll go find him.”
No one says anything when she leaves, the double doors sliding open and shut automatically at her approach, and she doesn’t bother saying goodbye.
“Dismissed, I guess,” Graves sighs, collapsing into his chair and spinning around to face the stars proliferating in front of him.
The informality digs at you sometimes because you know you can’t indulge in it. The times you’ve attempted to, you’ve been rebuffed. Sometimes unintentionally, but often to remind you of your place.
This isn’t a crew you’ve ever worked with before. From conversations you’ve overheard, you’ve gleaned that they’ve all worked together in different capacities before, years of familiarity breeding an easy trust and companionship between them. Two of them might even be lovers—though Farah maintains a neutral facade at all times, the same can’t be said for Alex, the man always hovering nearby, eyes going soft at the sight of her.
You’re the only odd man out. The newcomer. And though you sit with them in the mess for meals and partake in conversation and pass jokes like small stones from hand to hand, you know deep down, in the dark well of your heart, that you are not one of them. You are a passenger that they picked up along the way. A straggler.
This wasn’t supposed to be the case. When you signed on to the mission months ago, the circumstances were wholly different. A newer ship, a different crew, some of which you’d worked with before. Then ownership changed hands and budgets were cut. Slashed to ribbons even. You had a chance to tour the ship before the launch date, and even down on Earth with all the glitz and glam available to trick the eye, you hadn’t been convinced of the vessel’s ability to withstand the extreme conditions of space.
But by then, you were locked into a contract so iron-clad that the consequences of breaking it seemed worse than simply seeing the mission through.
Most days, you feel like you’re waiting for something to give. You pass through halls that echo with low creaks and a deep, rhythmic thrum. Sometimes the walls of the ship groan so loud that you wait with baited breath for the hull to implode around you, to feel the metal crush the delicate eggshell of your body beneath its weight.
It’s not any better to just stay in your room, your quarters too cramped to nurture anything other than claustrophobia. A recent, unfortunate side effect of spending months on such a small ship. You’ve become accustomed to crews numbering in the tens and hundreds, ships so colossal in size that even months spent aboard weren’t enough to explore all of its nooks and crannies. Cargo holds with excavators and backhoes for excavations on Mars and humvees for getting around the rough terrain.
This ship barely holds six people and the payload you’ve been hauling to Europa. Pipes hiss in the corridors. Once a week, the radiator splutters or the intercom overhead crackles, kicking your heart into hyperdrive.
You leave formation more out of sorts than ever. Vaguely aimless. With nothing to do, you grab breakfast in the galley and eat at the counter, too uncomfortable to venture over to the mess. Your days consist mainly of hovering around the ship or sitting quietly in the medbay, waiting for something to happen. A morbid preoccupation.
The stairs clunk under your feet as you make your way down towards the medbay. You’ve long grown used to the sharp sound of your boots against the metal floor.
Rationally, you know they don’t dislike you. You might even venture to say that you get along with the majority of them, particularly the chief engineer and Farah’s brother. The big man likes that it only takes a single drink to get you plastered, often howls with laughter when you stumble out of the mess after drinking with the crew, always the first to turn in for the night. Farah herself is only frosty because she works twice as hard as anyone else, burning the midnight oil on the regular.
You swallow half-truths like stones to help settle your stomach.
It doesn’t replace real companionship though; it approximates, but doesn’t quite replicate it. You feel its absence most acutely in the sidelong glances you sometimes get of real affection: Alex grazing his pinkie across Farah’s when he thinks no one is looking; Farah’s eyes softening at the sight of her brother; Graves and Nikolai reminiscing about something a decade past, hardly even aware of your presence in the room.
It’s something you’ve endured before, but never for such an extended period of time. Prolonged isolation prickles at the mind, feathering the edges. It purples space; passes through the vents. The crew rarely goes on spacewalks (hardly any need for it), but sometimes you swear the ship’s oxygen has a faint sulfuric undertone, like rotten eggs. It permeates the air wherever you go.
Someone knocks at the window just as you walk by.
You pause mid-sip, the mug raised to your lips and just pressing into your bottom lip, not yet tilted.
“Hello,” you hear through the thick-paned glass, the voice muffled through the layers of glass and plastic partitions. “Could you let me in, please?”
Though your reflex is to look up, you don’t for some reason. The muscles in your neck stay locked instead. Shoulders stiff, weighed down by an unnatural force.
The thing outside the ship knocks again. “Love? Can you hear me?”
Your head turns towards the porthole, the hand holding your mug drifting away from your mouth. It tips in your hand and a drop leaks down the side. Your lips tingle, almost numb.
There’s a man outside the porthole, clear as day. He hovers outside the window, a hand raised in a friendly wave and full lips splitting to reveal perfect, white teeth when he smiles. He’s dressed in a spacesuit, no different than any of the crew on a spacewalk. Through the helmet, you can make out dark eyes and dimples. A close cropped beard.
It’s not a face you’ve ever seen before though. You think you might’ve remembered someone so handsome working on the ship with you.
Something needles inside of you though. A sickening feeling, like something you’ve forgotten but you desperately need to remember.
“Hi there,” the man says, voice as charming as you’ve ever heard, so velvety rich that you feel the blood heat your cheeks. “Glad you were passing by. Mind letting me in?”
#ceil writing#cod x reader#gaz x reader#kyle gaz garrick x reader#gaz/reader#gaz x you#this is my first attempt at scifi so im going to really concentrate on building the atmosphere over the next several parts#and i might edit this overall before it goes on ao3 so just know that
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Bonds Beyond Words: If Eywa Wills It
PART ONE -- PART TWO -- PART THREE
Pairing: Aged-Up!Neteyam x Fem!Human!Reader
Word Count: 5k
Tags: dark themes, but this chapter is actually very fluffy and silly, Lo'ak and Kiri and Spider becoming reader's besties, many attempts at comedy, eventual NSFW, aged-up! Neteyam (and Lo'ak, Spider, and Kiri), reader has PTSD, Neteyam dislikes humans (except for you), eventual jealous/possessive Neteyam, future Olo'eyktan! Neteyam, enemies-to-lovers, interspecies slow burn, angst, fluff, probably OOC, POV’s all over the place, forgive the inconsistencies.
Summary: You're not allowed to join the community until Jake Sully decides you're ready. Spider, Lo'ak, and Kiri teach you Na'vi.
A/N and Disclaimer: I tried my best to use some Navi language translators and the LearnNavi website to write this chapter, but there are bound to be language errors. I also know time works differently there. Sorry for all the inconsistencies!
This story contains explicit content and is only appropriate for audiences 18+. MDNI. Please do not repost my work.
The science shack isn’t so bad.
Your initiation begins after your first sleep that night. The next morning, Max and Norm put their research projects on hold to give you an actual, legitimate tour of the facility. The place is full of bells and whistles. Tiny buttons, translucent screens, and telecommunications. Technology is abundant; but your knowledge of how to use it is not.
“Here is the airlock control panel,” Max explains. He hovers his palm over a sensor—when it flashes sage green, the user interface appears. “Once you’re ready to interact with the community, we’ll scan your handprints and give you full clearance,” he futhers.
You’re helplessly eager. “Do you know when that will be?” you inquire.
Max presses the controller in the center of the panel. The glass door to the inner chamber slides open. You peek your head inside the airlock space—there are respirator masks for both humans and Na’vi, as well as a broom in the corner.
“I put that there,” Max says, referring to the broom. He’s stealthily ignoring your previous question. “Told Spider he needs to sweep after himself. He refuses to use the doormat outside. I think the only person who’s touched that broom has been me.”
You look at the ground. The floor of the airlock space isn’t as bad as you’d expect it to be. Admittedly, it’s filthy. There are mud stains of both human and Na’vi footprints on the vinyl floor. The size difference is jarring.
You have an idea. You smirk to yourself. “What if I cleaned this mess for him?” you offer. “I’ll sweep, then mop. I need to start pulling my weight, too.”
Max sighs. “What? So you can put on one of those masks and sneak out before the Olo'eyktan says you’re ready?”
Your expression sours. “You didn’t have to say it like that,” you reply. “I wasn’t going to sneak out,” you admit aloud. “I was going to accidentally open the front door or something with a mask conveniently in place. It’s not as deceitful that way.”
Max sighs again. “Well, I have no say in when you’re ready,” he confesses. “That decision is only Jake’s to make.”
You have no choice but to yield. Max taps the censor again. The airlock door falls shut into place.
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It takes an entire day to simply show you how everything works. It takes two more for you to demonstrate you were paying attention and know how to use everything. The only intuitive mechanisms are the knobs to the showers and the dials on the washer and dryer.
Like in any society, the science shack has its own set of rules, regulations, and norms—quite literally, since Norm transfers between his human body and Avatar frequently. The showers are closed once every twenty-five days for necessary maintenance. Humans aren’t to leave when the Na’vi are sleeping or on significant Omatikaya holidays. Don’t talk to Max before he’s had his first coffee. Spider is supposed to sweep after himself in the airlock room. You can’t use Mia’s handleless mug, but you’re allowed to wash it if you’re extra careful.
By the end of the week, your head hurts.
You know the only way to become proficient in something, like speaking a new language or utilizing advanced technology, is to thrust yourself into it. Take the plunge—don’t fear it. Embrace the nosedive. Freefall.
So, after dinner on your seventh day, you get as close to doing that as possible. You sit on a small perch by a tiny window, nestled in a corner of the science shack. You’re hungry; for one, Norm’s cooking tastes much worse when you’re not famished, so you couldn’t force yourself to go back for seconds, let alone finish everything on your plate.
But also, you’re hungry for something else. Now that you’re safe from the RDA, you can actually consider doing what you came to Pandora to do all along. You can practically taste it.
You know Jake Sully is right. Life in the science shack is complicated enough, and you need adequate time to acclimate. But you’re starting to feel like you’re trapped.
The window allows you to see a slice of life at High Camp. You come here around the same time after a meal, just like clockwork. You haven’t seen Jake Sully since your conversation, but you’ve seen many others.
Just right now, you see a group of young women shuffle past, laughing and gossiping about who knows what. You see two kids, presumably siblings, one chasing after the other, before they’re stopped by one of the village’s elders. You see injured warriors limp towards the tsahìk’s tent. You see a woman in her homestead, weaving a basket. You feel nothing but sonder; the profound sensibility that these people are all living complex lives of their own, and you’re simply witnessing these complexities unfold right before your eyes.
You begin to recognize a few faces, like that of the shaman healer, otherwise known as the tsahìk. You also take note of which warriors visit her tent most frequently.
You routinely see a Na’vi female with short, straight jet-black hair. She tends to pass by the science shack every evening of every day, stare at the door, frown, then leave. On two occasions, your eyes met before she wandered off.
You’ve learned a few more common phrases, which Norm, Max, Spider and Mia teach you at meal times. Kaltxì is a standard greeting. Rutxe means please, and irayo means thank you. Ngafkeyk pefya? means ‘how are you?’
You also learned that the lines you recited to the Na’vi in the forest, Neteyam, were of a standard dialect. They weren’t incorrect, just slightly different from that of the Omatikaya’s. And, allegedly, your pronunciation was off.
In your extensive travels on Earth, you learned quickest when you immersed yourself in a new, unfamiliar environment. It was the rush—the thrill, the trepidation—that drove you to adapt. It was as just as you told Jake Sully: so I will.
Immersion is the only way. Norm knows this too; as an exceptional xenolinguist, he learned more from interacting with the Na’vi for a few weeks than he did from reading any book. He really understands. He wishes he had more time to help with your studies, but he must return to his work. His newest botany project is time sensitive.
As you sit by the window, you use an electronic tablet programmed with a basic flashcard feature to get yourself acquainted with the Na’vi language. It’s not particularly helpful, since spoken practice is more beneficial than anything written. You’ve been skimming some of Jake’s old journals, too. But at the time of their conception, he wrote only in English, and misspelled many Na’vi words and phrases.
The flashcards do nothing besides test your aptitude for memorization. It doesn’t help that your attention span is elsewhere, like you left it on a far, distant planet.
Everytime someone passes by the window in your peripheral vision, you have no choice but to look up and see who’s there. It’s usually another Na’vi face you’ve never seen before. You don’t realize it initially, but the more you turn your head, you’re helplessly aware that you’re looking for someone. It never is, but you’re hopeful it might be Neteyam—you still owe him for saving your life. You have an inkling however, that he’s probably avoiding this place for one reason or another. That very reason might just be yourself.
It’s obvious that this method of study is inefficient. You power off the tablet and continue people-watching with your knees tucked against your chest.
Any moment now, you know you’ll see that girl with shoulder-length hair. You want to know why she frowns, but you don’t know how to ask ‘what’s upsetting you?’ in Na’vi.
Now that you think about it, though, you’re unsure if that’s a wise idea. Even when you are allowed into the community, you know that you will have to keep a distance. Know your place. Although the humans and Na’vi residing here coexist in apparent harmony, you don’t want your presence to disrupt the peace.
There’s a quiet knock on the other side of the airlock door across the main room—it’s so faint you almost miss it.
When you sit up, you hear footsteps thudding against the vinyl flooring. You see Spider look around then over his shoulder as he approaches the door.
He begrudgingly places his hand over the scanner. He presses a button and the front of the airlock opens.
He quietly shouts something in Na’vi—skxawng. You’re not sure what this word means yet.
From your window perch, you can’t see what’s going on, but Kiri and Lo’ak enter the space through the main door. They each grab a respirator.
Spider continues to say things you don’t understand. From his tone of voice, he seems slightly agitated.
“You can’t be here,” Spider says to both of them in Na’vi. “Not until the new girl gets introduced to the community.”
Lo’ak takes a deep breath—the respirator in his hand looks so small. He’s almost as tall as his father now. As the years pass, Lo’ak just gets bigger and bigger. It makes him feel like Spider is shrinking.
“C’mon man,” Lo’ak says. “Let us in. We’ll only take a minute,” he adds, wearing a devious smirk on his face. “I uh, forgot something when I was here last?” he tries.
“Yeah, right,” Spider replies.
“Lo’ak, you’re not helping my case,” Kiri says, glaring at her older brother.
Lo’ak’s jaw drops. He scoffs at her. “You told me to come with you!”
“Yes, and it turns out you’re not helping!” Kiri hisses.
Spider groans. “Can you two just leave? I don’t want to get any flak for this.”
Kiri grits her teeth. She places both of her hands on the glass separating them. “Please, Spider. I haven’t seen Mom in forever,” she says. Her eyes water. “It hasn’t been this long since the time we lived in Awa'atlu… I miss her.”
The crease between Spider’s brows disappears. From what you can see, he looks apologetic. “Oeru txoa livu,” he says to Kiri. “But I’m not supposed to let anyone in besides your dad.”
Lo’ak’s expression falters. He looks at his feet. His ears fall flat. “You know, I haven’t seen Tsireya since we left Awa'atlu,” he says just loud enough for Spider and Kiri to hear.
Spider rubs his nose bridge. Kiri sighs and flicks his temple with her fingers. Once Lo’ak starts talking about Tsireya, he can’t stop.
While this interaction continues to transpire, you stand from your perch and tiptoe over. Your footsteps are padded by thick, cotton socks. You advance slowly, like you’re approaching a crime scene covered with caution tape.
“Lo’ak, go home and go to bed,” Kiri says, poking his chest. She then spins back around. “Spider, let me in, please.”
“I’m sorry, Kiri,” Spider replies. “You know I would if I could.”
Kiri places her hands on her hips. “You can, very easily, actually. Just press the button,” Kiri says. She points to the spot where she knows it is on the other side of the door. “It’s right there.”
Spider sighs. The crease in his brow returns when he realizes Lo’ak is suddenly smiling. “Why are you doing that?”
Lo’ak waves to you from the other side of the airlock. “Hi!” He greets you in English. “What’s your name?”
Spider jolts when he realizes you’re standing there right behind him.
Kiri gasps. Her eyes go wide—they practically sparkle when she’s excited. “I told you, I saw her!” she says to Lo’ak in Na’vi.
You smile at the male and female Na’vi before you. They seem so friendly, and the male Na’vi’s English sounds great. “Hello there,” you reply. You formally introduce yourself.
Spider presses a palm to his temple. He knows he’s going to get in trouble.
“It’s nice to meet you!” the female Na’vi says, also in English. “I’m called Kiri. And this is my older brother, Lo’ak.”
That’s his cue—Lo’ak waves again, flashing his vibrant smile.
Spider scoffs.
“My good brother here, Spider,” says Lo’ak, “this skxawng,” he adds, more quietly, “was about to let us inside.”
“I was not,” Spider protests.
“C’mon,” you say. Spider rolls his eyes—you’ve just met Lo’ak but he’s already infected you with whatever ailment he has that makes him the way that he is. At the same time, however, Spider knows it’s one of the best things about him.
“Why can’t we let them in?” you ask. This is the most exciting thing that’s happened to you in five days.
“Exactly,” says Lo’ak. “Let us in,” he chants quietly.
“The door isn’t broken, is it?” you further, keeping a serious demeanor. “I’ll just check to make sure it works,” you tell Spider.
“Wait–”
The airlock’s inner chamber door opens, allowing Lo’ak and Kiri entry.
“Would you look at that,” you profess. “I know how the door works.”
Lo’ak chuckles as he strolls inside like he owns the place. Kiri rushes past the three of you, making a beeline for the large container in the middle of the main room. She presses her palms against the glass and whispers to the Avatar stuck inside. Your brows furrow in confusion.
“You were right,” Lo’ak mutters to Spider in English. “She is short, even for a human.”
Your jaw goes slack. A surprised chuckle falls from your lips. “If you call Spider skxawng, then what are you?” you can’t help but retort.
He grins. “If there was a clan of a hundred skxawng’s,” Lo’ak says, “they would have no choice but to make me their leader.”
You laugh again—harder than you were expecting to. This Na’vi might be an ass, but at least he’s got a sense of humor.
Spider groans again. “If you two knuckleheads stay, you have to keep it down,” he says.
Lo’ak puts his hands up, defensively.
“Can I ask what she’s doing over there?” you say aloud.
Kiri now has her face pressed against the glass. It fogs from her breath.
Spider and Lo’ak look at each other. Lo’ak rubs the back of his neck before speaking: “it’s a long story, but that��s the Avatar of Kiri’s biological mother. Kiri is my adoptive sister.” Lo’ak then hums to himself. “Maybe it’s not such a long story, after all.”
That’s why she looked so sad. She simply missed her Mom.
You blink once. “Oh, alright.” You nod, looking at Spider. “All of that information about Mia’s coffee mug was really important, but this,” you say, gesturing to the tube in the center of the room. “Not so much.”
Spider shrugs. “It’s important,” he says. “But, this is just commonplace for all of us.”
“She’s been doing this since we were kids,” Lo’ak reaffirms.
“Maybe we’re blind to it,” Spider offers. “It’s always there, so we can’t even see it if it’s right in front of us.”
Lo’ak simpers. “Well said.”
“Thank you,” says Spider. He grins.
They nod together and rub their chins like idiots. You assume this must be a regular thing for them.
“Skxawngs,” you say.
Of course, they both look your way, as though you’ve called them by their birth name.
“Did I use that properly?” you ask in English.
They nod. You sigh woefully.
Lo’ak practically snatches such low-hanging fruit: “What’s got you all blue?”
You can’t help but glare at him. “They say you don’t know a language unless you know how to properly insult someone,” you say. “But I don’t actually know any useful Na’vi, and I haven’t had a conversation with anyone. Half of the words I know are just insults!”
“Simmer down,” says Spider. “You learned plenty today,” he says.
“And, last I heard, you did have a conversation with someone,” Lo’ak mutters.
Spider crosses his arms over his bare chest and looks you in the eye. “We’ll do our best to teach you.”
“Then teach me,” you reply, glaring daggers his way.
Spider’s eyes narrow. He clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth. A couple of hours ago, you were enthusiastic. Now, you’re starting to get on his nerves.
Spider then looks over at Kiri, and makes an almost silent whistling noise. In response, Kiri’s ears twitch and she peeks over her shoulder.
“What the hell did you just say to her?” you demand.
“Oh, that?” Spider chuckles dryly. “I didn’t say anything, yet.”
“What is it?” Kiri calls back to him.
When Spider responds, he speaks entirely in Na’vi. When Kiri replies to him, she does the same. Spider then turns to you, speaks only in Na’vi again, then laughs. He says something else. Laughter erupts. Kiri and Lo’ak follow suit.
You have no choice to presume they’re talking shit about you in their native language.
In reality, they’re saying things that make no sense just to get you riled up. The first thing Spider told Kiri was “let’s pretend like we’re making fun of her. Keep going along with it until I say stop.”
Needless to say, they play their roles with great conviction, like actors on a stage. They fool you.
“You guys are dickheads! That’s enough.”
They finally stop when you fold your arms over your chest and start pouting; but they don’t stop laughing until Norm yells from down the hall to, in his words, ‘tone that shit down.’ When they’re caught, Spider purses his lips, and Kiri and Lo’ak takes deep breaths from their respirator masks in unison.
“You’re incredibly impatient,” Spider admits, lowering his voice. Lo’ak nods in agreement. You’re all sitting around the tube that holds Grace’s Avatar. Kiri traces small shapes on its surface with her lithe fingertips.
“And you three,” you say, pointing at each of them, “are a bunch of jesters.”
“No, you’re a jester,” says Lo’ak. He doesn’t even know what that word means, not in English anyway.
“That’s exactly what a jester would say.” You groan in frustration. “I am impatient, but you don’t have to say it so directly,” you reply. Your expression is downcast and dejected.
You want to learn the language. You want to be able to talk to people. You want to carry out conversations, and learn, and laugh, and cry. You want to become a phoenix, rising from the ashes of an otherwise hopeless situation. You’re here, you’re alive, yet you don’t feel that way. Not at all.
You don’t want to feel like an outsider. You don’t want to live life from a bird’s eye view, on your little perch by the tiny window. You don’t want to feel like a canary in a cage. You don’t want to feel like a fish in a large, technologically-advanced bowl. Or like a beetle in a glass jar with holes poked in the top. You don’t want to be alone. You don’t want to be locked away in the science shack, just like how you were in the RDA’s basement.
Your eyes water. How could it be? Have you simply gone from one prison to another?
“You may be impatient, but I think you’ll fit in with us just fine,” Lo’ak interjects. He smiles genuinely. After a few moments, so do Spider and Kiri.
You wipe your eyes. Your face feels hot.
Kiri calls you by your first name, grasping hold of your attention. “Don’t worry. We’ll teach you to speak Na’vi, and you’ll be just like the rest of us,” she says affectionately.
“I don’t know about that,” Lo’ak mutters.
There’s a pregnant pause. You, Spider, and Kiri expect him to say that you’ll never be a true Na’vi, or something of the sort. You weren’t raised as such, like the three of them.
“She won’t grow another foot overnight,” Lo’ak says finally. He looks right at you with a shit-eating grin. “You’ll never be as tall as we are.”
“Well said,” Spider remarks.
---
Kiri and Lo’ak can’t stay for much longer—they have to sneak back to their tent before Jake Sully finds out what they’ve been up to.
“They won’t get in trouble if he finds out, right?”
You and Spider are the last two awake. You’re sitting at the kitchen table.
Spider waves his hand around nonchalantly. “They never do,” he says. There’s a brief pause. “Okay, sometimes Lo’ak does,” Spider adds. “But never Kiri or Tuk. You’ll meet her eventually. She’s the youngest sibling.”
“Alright, so there’s the three of them. Lo’ak, Kiri, and Tuk. And Neytiri is their mother, right?”
“Four of them,” Spider corrects you. “Neteyam is the oldest. One year older than Lo’ak.”
You blink. “Neteyam is the Olo'eyktan’s eldest son? The one who found me?”
“That’s what I said, didn’t I?” Spider retorts.
You glare at him. “Yes, that’s what you said, only a whole week late!” You whisper-shout at him. “Just like with Kiri’s biological mother.”
Spider throws his hands up. “I guess I thought someone already told you,” he says defensively. “You talked to Jake, right?”
“Right,” you reply. “But he didn’t mention anything about Neteyam being his son. Didn’t mention anything about his children actually.”
“With all that you went through with those fuckers, he may have thought it could be taken as insensitive,” Spider suggests.
You hum. Maybe, just maybe, Spider’s right.
“Kiri works in the tsahìk’s tent during the day. Lo’ak puts in the least amount of effort necessary to be considered one of the warriors,” Spider says. “He’s usually around, but oftentimes not. Either way, we will find time to help you learn Na’vi.”
“Is Neteyam one of the warriors?” you ask.
Spider nods. “These days, he’s become one of the best.”
Your thoughts drift back to when Neteyam found you. You were practically ambushed—he was so controlled, so swift with his movements. Spider’s words don’t surprise you.
“So, he’s busy all the time?”
Spider addresses you by name. “What are you getting at?”
“I still need to thank him,” you confide. “He can’t avoid me forever.”
Spider sighs. “He can try,” he mutters.
“So, he is avoiding me?” you ask. Your cheeks are turning red again.
“He’s…” Spider begins. He looks distraught. “He wasn’t always like this,” Spider says. “Neteyam and I are cool, but he never sets foot inside this place if he doesn’t have to. Ever since the Sully family returned from living with the Metkayina, the Reef People, he doesn’t get along with Norm and the others like Kiri and Lo’ak… He merely tolerates the scientists here.”
“You’re saying he hates humans,” you say bluntly.
“Hate is a strong word,” Spider replies. “But he has many reasons to dislike them…” Spider swallows. “To dislike our kind.”
The words fall from your lips: “you’re right.”
You begin to question whether or not you should follow through with thanking him for saving you. The interaction with Kiri and Lo’ak went so well—perhaps it gave you an ounce of hope, things might go smoothly with Neteyam too. He’s been on your mind constantly, replaying in your thoughts like a broken record. You’re certain there are other Na’vi who share similar sentiments. You have to be careful.
“Don’t think about it too hard,” says Spider. He stands from the table. “I’m going to sleep,” he says plainly. His footsteps fade as he walks to the barracks.
Spider’s sympathies do very little to ease your mind.
---
Spider kept his word. Kar is teach. Karyu is teacher, and Karyunay is apprentice teacher. Ayfo kar nga—they teach you.
In the days—and eventually, weeks—to come, you fall into a new routine.
You study Na’vi during the day-time hours. The science shack isn’t so bad. Sometimes, if he’s available, Norm works with you on your phonetics and grammar. But typically, it’s just you, your electronic tablet, and your perch by the windowsill.
When you learned other Earth languages in the past, it was easier to learn other languages in proximity to their language group with which you were familiar. Romance languages, such as Spanish, French, and Italian, bore many similarities. The same went for Germanic languages, and even some Sino-Tibetan languages.
Na’vi, however, is completely different from any language you’ve spoken, or even attempted to learn. But your dedication is unwavering.
Lo’ak and Kiri return to the science shack two days after your first encounter with them.
“Okay, Spider was right. At first, he was angry,” Kiri says. She takes a deep breath through her respirator. “But then, I suppose he thought about it more and decided it was a good idea after all.”
Jake Sully has given Lo’ak and Kiri his word of approval to help with your studies at nightfall, as long as they don’t slack off their usual duties.
“He thinks it’s a good ‘method of assimilation’ or some shit like that,” adds Lo’ak.
You nod. “He’s right,” you say.
“Yeah, whatever,” Lo’ak admits nonchalantly. “Sometimes.”
You all sit on the floor around Grace’s tube again.
“Well,” you clear your throat. “Today, I studied grammatical structure and simple, common vocabulary. Maybe we could start with-”
“Nga za‘u ftu peseng?” Spider asks. He’s asking ‘where do you come from?’
You blink. It takes a moment for the cogs in your brain to rotate. But in due time, you register his question.
“I come from Earth,” you reply in English.
“If you really want to learn,” Spider says, “you should reply in Na’vi.”
You should. The only issue is, you’re not sure how. But you have no choice but to give it a try.
You fail the first time. The second time, you almost get it right—close enough to where Kiri pries her eyes away from her mother to give you a look of encouragement and a thumbs up.
“You’re almost there,” says Lo’ak. He straightens his posture, no longer slouching against the glass tube. “But if you don’t want to sound like a baby learning their first words, you need to change up the word order. For myself, I would reply with ‘za‘u oe ftu Eywa’eveng.’ Which means in English, ‘I come from Pandora.’ Your reply, obviously, is going to be a little different.”
Lo’ak pauses, takes a breath from his respirator, then mimics your higher-pitched voice, speaking as you would reply in Na’vi.
His impression of you is already spot on. “I don’t sound like that!” you protest.
They all laugh, and you can’t help but join them.
For the rest of the evening, the three of them ask you simple questions in Na’vi. All you have to do is reply, also in Na’vi. The longer you go, the easier it gets. You build upon the scaffolding of your day-time studies, as well as every question and response before the next.
---
This continues for many nights.
During the days when you’re sitting by the window and Lo’ak and Kiri pop into frame, you instinctively smile and wave to them. They always reciprocate.
They don’t say it outwardly, but the two of them look forward to these evenings with you. They get to spend more time with Spider. And, although they’re both fluent in English, the practice benefits them, too. Plus, they’ve taken a liking to you as well.
“Who the hell are you waving at, skxawng?” Neteyam asks Lo’ak one day. They’re about to head off on their ikrans to train. Lo’ak needs to learn a new hand-to-hand technique. Neteyam is conveniently out of your line of sight.
“I’m waving to the new girl!” Lo’ak exclaims. He continues waving. He’s practically beaming.
Neteyam huffs.
“Her pronunciation is getting much better,” Lo’ak says. His arm falls to his side again. “But it honestly wasn’t bad to begin with,” he adds. “Do you think you were, perhaps, exaggerating?”
“No,” Neteyam answers curtly. He looks agitated—his ears twitch and his tail swishes wildly. “She’s a distraction." You're proving Neteyam's point. Lo'ak won't stop waving. Neteyam groans. "Hurry up, Lo'ak. We have things to do,” he says. When they were younger, Neteyam would’ve slapped Lo’ak’s bicep or grabbed him by the ends of his hair, but he’s a man now. He can’t show his impatience or impulsivity.
Lo'ak disappears from your vantage point.
---
It’s already been a month. Your diligent practice is starting to pay off.
You can hold very basic conversations in Na’vi. You’re learning more about the language and culture every day.
They don't want to feed your ego, but your teachers have discovered you're a fast, proficient learner.
“Syep means 'to trap.' It’s a verb,” Lo’ak explains to you in English. He’s lying on the floor with his legs propped up on a chair from the dining table. Suddenly, he swings his feet from the chair, and stands to his feet.
You don't want to feed any of their egos either, but they're all smarter than they think. Especially Lo'ak.
“Spider, peseng lu syeprel?” Lo’ak asks.
You’re unsure what a syeprel is, but you know he’s asking where it’s located.
“I think it’s in the supply closet, over there,” Spider replies in Na’vi.
“What’s a syeprel?” you ask, also in Na’vi.
“Take a guess!” Lo’ak calls from down the hall.
You hum. You switch back to English: “Well, it must be a particular type of trap? Like a mouse trap or something?”
Kiri hums too. “It does technically trap something,” she says after a few moments. “But you’re thinking too literally,” she adds with a smirk.
You scratch your head. You’re dumbfounded.
“A-ha!’ Lo’ak says triumphantly. “I’ve found it.”
“Found what?” you call.
“Ask nicely,” says Kiri. “In Na’vi.”
You try again. “Rutxe,” you say, slightly embarrassed. You do as you’re told, and ask in Na’vi.
Lo’ak returns. He’s holding an ancient piece of technology—an extremely old hand-held digital camera with a slightly scratched lens. “Say cheese!”
He snaps a photo of you, Spider, and Kiri lounging around on the floor. None of you were prepared.
Kiri sighs and glowers at him. “Lo’ak!”
Lo’ak chuckles. “Alright, alright. We’ll take another one.”
The four of you stand around Lo’ak, the camera operator. “Kiri, crouch down a little bit,” he says, directing your places. “Spider, lean closer to Kiri.” You hear Spider sigh.
Lo’ak then glances at you over his shoulder. “Stand on your toes, tawtute. Or else you won’t be in frame,” he chides you with a sly smile.
You do just that and smile for the syeprel. “You’re an ass, Lo’ak,” you say through your teeth.
“Smile, everyone!” he sings in Na’vi. Lo’ak spins the camera around to take a photo of everyone while operating it at the same time. He smiles and snaps another photo. The flash is momentarily blinding.
You break free from your pose. “So, a camera is called syeprel?”
“Yes, it is.” replies Lo’ak in Na’vi. “It traps a moment in time, doesn’t it? Rel means like an image, or a picture,” he adds in English.
It’s clicking. Your jaw goes slack. Spider can’t help but chuckle at your expression.
“Language learning is so cool,” you gawk.
“You sound just like Norm,” says Kiri.
“Whatever,” you say in Na’vi. You switch back to English again. “There are lots of animal names in English like that. Anteaters eat ants. Junebugs come out in the month of June to find mates. Grasshoppers hop around in the grass. Centipedes are named after their one hundred legs.”
“Now you really sound like Norm,” Kiri teases you. “Don’t start talking about plants too, or I’ll have to go home.”
“What about bed bugs?” asks Spider. “I've only heard of them from the others. Never seen them here. I’m assuming they would be found in your bed?”
You nod.
Kiri hums, thinking. “What about butterflies then?” she asks. “I know that butter comes from milk and milk comes from Earth cows, but could they make butter too?”
You scrunch your nose at the mere thought of butterfly butter. “I don’t think so.”
Lo’ak can hardly contain his laughter. “What about cockroaches?”
Kiri smacks his chest. Lo’ak half-groans, half-cackles. Kiri scolds him in Na'vi, but it's not long before she starts laughing too.
You and Spider follow suit. From down the hall, Norm calls for you four to keep it down again.
But you can’t stop. In fact, Norm’s complaints make it worse. Joyous laughter fills the room. You’re having the time of your life. For the second time since your escape, you think this must be heaven. You’re briefly reminded of your imprisonment—you remember the few times you laughed with your cellmates. You remember those slivers of euphoria.
You also remember that you’re safe now. The science shack isn’t so bad. Not with Spider, and Kiri, and Lo’ak, and even Norm, and Max, and Mia, and all the others.
You laugh until your ribs hurt. You laugh until tears well in your eyes.
---
A/N: This chapter was so fun to write! I hope you guys had as much fun reading it as I did writing it. Again, please forgive any language inconsistencies.
Don't worry my darlings! Neteyam is going to be all over the next chapter. Believe in the slow burn!
And thanks again for all the kind comments, reblogs, and notes. You guys are awesome!
Taglist: @m1tsu-ki @promnightbinbaby
#avatar the way of water#avatar 2009#neteyam x human reader#neteyam x reader#neteyam x y/n#neteyam x you#self insert#self insert fanfiction#x reader#neteyam sully x reader#atwow
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🎃 Trapped behind glass
Shower Sex CW: Non-con, Dub-con, inhuman penetration, multiple penetration, urination, strangulation
The glass door to the standing shower clicked shut as (Reader) stepped in. It had been a long day at work and they needed to melt their skin off their body with boiling water.
Creaking loudly due to age, the pipes shook as the water struggled to heat up, shooting out at (Reader) while it was still cold, startling them. It didn't matter how long they lived in their shitty, cheap apartment, the terrible plumbing always surprised them with just how terrible it was.
It slowly did warm up, however, drenching (Reader's) exhausted flesh in a comforting way.
As the water sprayed across their back the texture changed suddenly, the water feeling thicker and heavier than normal. But when (Reader) looked at the shower head, afraid that they were getting splashed with muck, they found that everything looked normal. 'Fucking lead pipes..' (Reader) thought bitterly, not really knowing if hard water was the explanation or not.
Water now almost slimey, the thick oozing liquid dripped over their goosebumps, grossing (Reader) past their breaking point. When they realized the water wasn't going to be changing back, they turned the knob to shut it off, but the water continued running.
"Fuck me.." (Reader) whined, not wanting to deal with maintenance nor the inevitable water bill. They reached for the door, but found themselves paralyzed. It was as if their entire body was tightly bound in a latex suit, restricting their movements. Across their flesh, the "water" began moving in different directions, flowing with a mind of it's own.
(Reader) opened their mouth to scream, but their throat was instantly filled with the hot goo, writhing inside of them, but never sliding down to their lungs or stomach. As they focused on the pulsing water gliding over their tongue they didn't notice the gushing liquid searching for their entrance until it flooded every hole between their legs, including their urethra. The warmth hurt only for a second, never stretching to the point of pain. But it was uncomfortable and strange.
Every inch of (Reader) felt violated, the water massaging their entire form, not only fucking every opening (suffocating as it rammed up their nose, birthing a migraine from the lack of oxygen, accentuated by the rushing water in their ears); using every hole used like a fuck hole, but their skin was slick like someone was masturbating by riding their wet exterior.
It continued ramming into them, dripping and leaking seemingly without end. The sensation of a foreign entity entering their piss slit while teetering on the brink of unconsciousness made (Reader) lose control of their bladder, unable to feel embarrassment with the black spots filling their vision as their urine coated their thighs along with the water like being, mixing with the fluid creature and (Reader's) arousal.
Every time they almost passed out the thing would retract from their nose, just long enough for them to regain their strength before plunging back in, plugging them up.
They couldn't think, the intensity of the fucking and the strangulation leaving them a soaking mess, slobbering over the hard water and cumming freely into the drain, orgasming multiple times without fully being aware that they were doing so.
Eventually the water seemed satisfied, sliding off (Reader's) body to drip down the drain and defy gravity to retract into the spout. (Reader) collapsed onto the shower floor, the only liquid left on their shaking form was their own, piss, drool and their climax, leaving them to fall asleep, wet and cold, too scared to turn back on the water to wash themselves off.
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thinking about young mk11 johnny being a bad boyfriend then you meet him again years later when he’s mature and he REGRETS IT SO BAD
i have so many ideas but i can’t get them out recently so ur account gives me life lol <3
OUGH it aches in the bones
older!johnny cage > as the day you left
notes: oooghuig "in another life" trope hurts so BAD.
[ masterlist ]
• a military job wasn't in your grand plan, but a position opened for equipment maintenance it was hard to turn down the potentially heavy paycheck.
• you were buried in your paperwork, taking quick strides to your office to make sense of your diagnostics and order the proper parts for one of the on-field machines when you slam into what feels like a brick wall. just as the force of the blow sends you backward, a hand grabs your arm and suspends you mid-fall.
• you don't even have time to properly react to the scene, only opening your harshly clenched eyes to meet your savior.
• "sorry, i wasn't looking where i—" your apology was cut off when you properly processed just who was in front of you. even with the tattoo peeking through his shirt, you knew that face from anywhere. "johnny?"
• you expected johnny to not even remember you, maybe take a second to realize you weren't just a fan. this expectation is torn from you when he replies with your name, loud and clear. his eyes are wide. gently, he lets go of you to allow you to regain your footing, pulling away as if you were a glass doll bound to shatter.
• he looked the same as when you walked out, perhaps a little more weathered but glowing with charm and personality just as he did twenty odd years ago. thankfully, you thought, he never lost that puppy-like shine in his eyes.
• the moment was lost to him the second he locked eyes. just like that, a torrent of memories flooded back to him. you two were young, too young to be serious in his eyes. johnny was in his acting prime and he couldn't help but flaunt it. all those smiles and sparkly outfits for the cameras but as soon as you were behind closed doors you were nothing more but exhausted.
• "i can't keep living like my life is under a microscope," you huffed, shrugging off the luxury shawl johnny went through hell to make sure you'd have for the red carpet. "would it kill you to just settle down, slow down? i want kids, johnny! i want to go to the store without paparazzi up my ass, i don't need stalkers on our property, i don't need the gold and glamor all the damn time!"
• "well, that's on you for choosing a megastar!" johnny shouted back, undoing his tie in one harsh tug. "all you've ever done is complain when you are literally living large! mansions, super cars, money! and you're complaining."
• you spin around, a horrified expression on your face as you unpacked his wording. "i didn't choose a megastar," your voice drops, so angry you couldn't bring yourself to shout. "i chose john carlton. where the hell is he now, because all i see is a narcissistic child that refuses to grow up."
• you slide your engagement ring off and you slam it into the ground. johnny's eyes widen as he immediately drops to his knees, trying desperately to grasp at the ring as it rolls and spirals out of grasp. he curses to himself, then at you.
• "look at yourself," you grit your teeth. "you care more about a rock than your fiancée. we're done, johnny. you can go tell the media that, too, since that's all you care about."
• johnny blinks once, then twice. he swallows thickly.
• "i'm sorry," is all he can mutter out. god, how he wishes he could say more, but time felt nonexistent when looking at your face. you, however, didn't quite understand his meaning and brushed yourself off.
• "no, it's fine, really," you try to shove past him, anything to break this eye contact that feels as if it's pulling you apart piece by piece. as you think you're out of the weeds, his hand finds its place on your arm once more.
• "please look at me," he pleads, voice barely above a mumble. "i-i haven't seen you in..."
• "—twenty six years," you blink up at him, straining yourself so hard to not break down. "forget it."
• "i'm sorry," he emphasizes the phrase again. "i... i was an asshole, an arrogant, self-centered—"
• "johnny." you cut him off, face stern but voice soft. "it was so many years ago."
• "i know, i know, but — fuck — you've... you've been on my mind this entire time. you never left. god, when you left it felt like my entire... everything fell apart."
• you want to interject, stop him from this spiral, but you can tell he had it bottled up for so long, you'd be cruel to deny him of it now. that, and you had an unfortunate tendency to hear people out and forgive those who don't need your forgiveness.
• "when you walked out i realized just how good i could've had it. you were the only sane person in my world, you tried so hard to keep me in track but i was so afraid of being nothing that i... chose my priorities wrong. you know, i've kept your contact information, even... just in case."
• "i changed my number years ago, johnny. to stop the media from bugging me for a comment."
• "just another thing i fucked up," he runs a hand through his hair. "sorry, i don't mean to be all self destructive." he pauses, and eyes you down. you yourself aged well too, fine lines and trickles of grey hair peeking through your uniform hat. johnny chuckles dryly as his eyes focus on the little details. "you look just as beautiful as the day you left me."
• "don't do this," you quietly plead, eyes now feeling wet and face feeling hot. "not now. not after all this time."
• "i..." he swallows again, now averting his eye contact. the pause is long, and you almost considered walking away before he speaks up again. "i got married, by the way, though i'm sure you saw... in the news."
• "i haven't." johnny shoots a dubious look at you, then realizes you probably avoided his name like the plague in news articles.
• "my wife runs the army. my daughter is commander."
• "daughter?" now it was your turn to frown.
• "cass... cassandra?" johnny explains, though you sense a hint of shame in his tone. "cassie."
• "didn't strike you for a family man." the irony stings when it slips past your lips.
• "i didn't either," he wipes his face. "but i realized... far too late... that what i wanted more than a legacy for myself was a legacy for my family. i wanted my efforts to mean something. i wanted to better the world with more than just shitty movies."
• just as your turn rose to frown, now you couldn't help but let out a chuckle yourself. "your movies weren't shitty," you reply, smiling weakly. "i liked them."
• "no you didn't," his grin is teasing, and you notice just how deep his smile lines were. "no need to lie."
• "honest to god," you hold a hand up, swearing. "they were a nice escape from reality."
• his lips turn into a fine line. maybe your choice of wording was more painful than intended. his fists clench and unclench and you watch his mouth fight to get more words out.
• "i wish..." the always confident actor couldn't bring himself to look at you. "i wish i had grown up sooner, you know." johnny could be digging a dangerous hole, but he didn't care in the moment. he felt young again, nostalgic. "we could have had a life like this together, like you want... wanted."
• "you have that now," you get defensive, trying to put a barrier between his words and your heart. "a wife, a kid, a good job. you got what you wanted."
• "but it's not with you."
• whether it was dread or excitement, your heart flutters. was it really true that after all this time, he still wanted you, missed you like you missed his mature self? your thoughts of what could've been claw their way into your mind, and you feel hazy. your eyes wander around his form again, taking in his impressive physique, kind eyes, mature outfit... stopping at the ring finger. your breath feels sucked from your lungs when you pull yourself back to reality.
• "maybe in another life," you propose, a weak shrug tugging at your shoulders. "but i hope you know i don't... i don't regret what we had. our story, though, ended twenty six years ago, johnny. you're in a new chapter, enjoy it, okay?"
• the rejection at his desperation feels like a gunshot to the chest, like he could just die then and there. yeah, he had roots here, but if you had just asked him to run away with you, lord knows he'd consider it. but you wouldn't ask him to do such a thing, when he's finally got his shit figured out.
• another coworker enters the long hallway, entranced in their task that tears both of your attentions away from the heavy conversation. you know even still that his reputation is important, on screen and now off, too. so, you abandon the conversation as it stands, not giving johnny a chance to agree to your request and spin on your heel, returning to your own assignment and leaving him to his own. your head is down as you hug the papers, wishing to forget that you work with your ex-soulmate. it's an impossible task, really, when you catch his lingering cologne and scent on your body from his hold. that scent didn't change, either.
• johnny feels frozen in place, afraid to move and lose the moment where it stands. he watches you until you turn the corner, and listens for your footsteps until there isn't a trace of them anymore. his heart feels... heavy.
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Glass door
A glass door is a versatile, stylish feature widely used in residential, commercial, and industrial spaces. It primarily consists of glass panels, providing transparency, modern aesthetics, and the benefit of natural light. Glass doors can be tailored to suit various functional and design needs.
Types of Glass Doors
1. Frameless Glass Door
Design: Minimalistic and sleek, with no visible frame.
Common Use: Shower enclosures, offices, and modern homes.
Benefits: Provides a clean, contemporary look.
2. Framed Glass Door
Design: Glass is enclosed in a frame made of aluminum, wood, or steel.
Common Use: Entry doors, storefronts, and patio doors.
Benefits: Increased durability and design flexibility.
3. Sliding Glass Door
Design: Moves horizontally on a track.
Common Use: Patios, balconies, and space-saving areas.
Benefits: Smooth operation and space efficiency.
4. Swinging or Pivot Glass Door
Design: Hinged or pivoted at the top and bottom for a smooth swing.
Common Use: Entryways, offices, and high-end interiors.
Benefits: Adds a statement element to interiors.
5. Bi-Fold (Folding) Glass Door
Design: Multiple panels fold and stack to the side.
Common Use: Large indoor-outdoor openings.
Benefits: Maximizes open space and creates a seamless transition.
6. French Glass Door
Design: Double-hinged doors with glass panels, usually framed.
Common Use: Elegant entrances and partitions.
Benefits: Adds a classic and luxurious look.
Glass Options
Clear Glass: Offers maximum transparency and light.
Frosted Glass: Provides privacy while allowing light transmission.
Tinted Glass: Reduces glare and solar heat gain.
Tempered Glass: Heat-treated for safety, breaking into small, harmless pieces.
Laminated Glass: Bonded layers provide security, sound insulation, and UV protection.
Benefits
Natural Light: Brightens interiors and reduces energy costs.
Aesthetic Appeal: Offers a sleek, modern look or classic elegance.
Customizable: Can be designed to fit various styles and sizes.
Versatility: Suitable for both interior and exterior applications.
Durability: Modern glass is designed to be strong and safe.
Applications
Residential: Patio doors, shower enclosures, room partitions.
Commercial: Storefronts, office spaces, display areas.
Industrial: Security doors, soundproofed partitions.
Considerations
Privacy: Opt for frosted, tinted, or patterned glass if privacy is a concern.
Energy Efficiency: Choose insulated or low-E glass for better thermal performance.
Safety: Always use tempered or laminated glass for safety in high-traffic or exterior areas.
Maintenance: Regular cleaning is required to keep the glass clear and streak-free.
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Human Guardian - One Size Fits All
Jon's radio crackled to life on his hip.
"Jon, can you get across to the 'Emmalis' sector please. We have an urgent escort request." Came dispatch's dispassionate and clinical tone.
The human grunted as he lifted with his knees to put the box that he was running inventory on, back onto the shelf where it belonged. With it safely secured he grabbed for the radio and thumbed the button for him to speak.
"Jon confirms, heading to Emmalis now."
"Acknowledged" Came the immediate reply.
He returned the radio to his hip and began a swift march to the part of the station which hosted the shorter alien delegates. It had been a busy week, it felt like every race had turned up all at once and realistically it wasn't far off the mark to say that. It was the first time since the circus when Jon had first passed the Guardian Initiative selection process that it had been this busy.
Apparently there was a summit of some kind coming up and with the impressive range of creatures appearing on station, both great and small, Jon ,like his colleagues was being run ragged. Most Guardian work wasn't actually being dedicated to a single person. At least, not for a Guardian who stayed on one station. Jon's role was to just being a helpful, welcoming presence. If there was a job to do that helped the station, he was there for it.
He smiled, nodded, waved or gave short cheerful banter to the other aliens he passed on his way. Most wore the similar blue and yellow jumpsuits of Guardians, or the grey and white of maintenance. These corridors being off limits to other creatures that weren't part of the station's staff. Plenty of vulnerable points in these sections, unwise to let crowds of people into the access corridors.
The access corridors ran to every corner of the station, regardless of who's sector it was or which race occupied those quarters. Staff would always be able to reach a delegate or guest in rapid time compared to those who had to use the more formal and fancy public walkways. The warren of tunnels weren't a secret, but like the 'Disneyland' of old, they weren't readily acknowledged by station as a whole. It was easier to just be as unobtrusive as one could be while playing host to the other races.
As Jon reached the 'Emmalis' sector, the half of the station that hosted much smaller races than the majority, he slipped on his 'Escort Harness' and showed his security card to the reader.
As he waited for approval and when his harness secured, he grabbed at his radio and thumbed the button again.
"Jon at Emmalis Sector, Subdoor 'Itty bitty'."
"Acknowledged. Stop calling it 'Itty Bitty', it's the 'Ikit Bitaris' entrance." Came a different voice from the radio, but none-the-less as formal as the last.
The light flicked from red to green and the bulkhead's bolt snapped open allowing Jon to walk through the door and into the 'airlock' checkpoint. A glass booth with a canid guard sat at a desk gave him a courtesy glance before allowing him to step forward.
"Mornin' Jon." The guard drawled. "You got a delegate needing to get to the council room early, 'parently it's urgent."
Jon nodded and shrugged.
"That's fine, are they ready to go?"
"Yeah, 'got their whiskers in a twist so don't wait around."
Jon stepped through the now open sliding door to see a pair of chintians waiting together on a raised platform. Chintians were one foot tall, furred or even spined mammalians. They reminded Jon of meerkats or perhaps chinchillas? Or some demented mixer of the two. The human gave a mental shrug. All the races could be compared to old Earth fauna, but you'd think yourself mad as none of them ever fit the mould 'perfectly'. There was always too many differences to say, 'you are a bipedal X'. Christ the taurians looked like cows and bulls but were carnivorous! Ever seen a cow with a set of teeth that would be better suited to a shark? It causes the mind to lurch.
The two chintians had delegate badges pinned to their belts and turned to the human as he passed through the checkpoint. As Jon stepped up, he turned his back on the delegate and stood still. This was all protocol, they had done this before and so had he.
The two chintians clambered up onto the various hand and foot holds of the harness that Jon wore and settled themselves.
Jon waited a moment before stepping away from the platform, at first taking practised care not to go too fast or jostle the harness that had countless loops sewn into the fabric allowing for easy grabbing and carrying of the smaller races, but there was still a knack to not jostling passengers. They simply hung on and Jon, or any escort, would carry them to their destination. This way, the smaller species didn't need to worry about being hit or accidently kicked by the larger or perhaps unobservant others.
Too many diplomatic incidents had happened and all parties involved considered this an acceptable resolution.
"We need to go fast! We must be there fast!`` Came the voice of one of the chintians, over his left shoulder. He felt the weight shift as the creature clambered up the harness with ease.
"Do you consent to running? Do you understand the risks and dangers of this action?" Jon asked, hoping they'd agree.
"Yes yes! Speed is needed!" the voice confirmed.
Jon began to sprint. Avoiding the busier paths, he kept to the edges of the corridors which were usually left empty for exactly the reason Jon was using them. Go-fors, messengers, assistants. They could always been seen scuttling from one location to the others, whilst those not on a time crunch could meander in the middle of the corridors.
He made good time to the centre of the station. From afar, the giant central council room looked like a crown jewel of the station. It was truly gigantic and often would have fog or clouds develop inside due to the sheer size of it.
He crouched and dropped off the delegate who thumbed a tip for Jon, but said nothing as he scuttled away from view and into a room.
Jon shrugged and mentally asked himself what he needed to do next and how to get there the quickest.
He was interrupted as his radio crackled to life again, he grabbed at it before the voice finished speaking.
"Jon? You done with that Escort?" Came the voice of a priority dispatcher, distinct as they were more like 'Account Managers', dealing with those who pay extra for services and their role was to ensure the higher paying guests were served in the right manner.
"Yeah, he's arrived."
"You got a 'Ursidain' request, a request by name this time. You've made an impression with folk."
Jon's face scrunched in puzzlement. He wasn't aware anyone even knew him. Although the name tag's all over his uniform would not lend him any anonymity.
"Got an idea as to what it is?" Jon asked as he jogged towards an access corridor to take the shortest route to the ursidain quarters. It shouldn't take long, he'd just circumvent the Council Hall.
"It's an ursidain called Fon, she sounded a bit distressed? Does it ring any bells?"
The realisation hit Jon like a bucket of cold water.
"Ah, yeah, I dealt with her last week. She's got hefty anxiety. It's likely I'm going to be 'booked' for the rest of the day."
"Cool, no problems, I'll ready 'double pay' if you're engaged through a break or the end of your shift."
Jon wrapped up the conversation and eventually made it to the ursidain quarters.
His next role was almost certainly going to be a 'Support' role. Even some of the larger species on the station had a habit of being nervous like everyone else. On a confined, diplomatic station, it was better to devote resources to calming them down then let them work themselves up.
Jon had met this 'Fon' a couple of weeks back, a mature giantess of a teddy bear, but one with pretty severe anxiety. As it turned out however, having Jon nearby, simply holding her paw or rather being held in her paws, was enough to keep her calm. He'd made the error at the end of his work to try and reassure her that everything was fine, she hadn't been a nuisance and if she needed him; he wouldn't mind.
Jon never thought for a second that she'd actually ask for him, let alone pay through the nose for him specifically to come help her. She must have serious cash to be able to not only request him by name, but double pay due to a person request is paid for by the person who made the request.
Exiting the next checkpoint, he didn't have a chance to even look round before a massive thick paw appeared and snatched him from his own raised platform, the environment now designed for creatures far larger than a human. He was immediately pressed into a sea of thick and soft brown fur. He had to tilt his head backwards just to give himself the space to breathe as a second giant paw began to rapidly stroke his hair again and again as a deluge of words poured from a frantic, motherly voice far above the trapped human.
"Oh I'm so glad you're here! I was so worried! The speech is coming up and I don't know if it'll go well and I suddenly got a feeling that something had already gone wrong! And then I thought about you and was worried the feeling was to do with you! It was-"
"I'm fine! It's okay! Take a breath!" Jon cut in; his voice strained as his ribs creaked from the pressure of being squeezed into the matronly Fon.
Two giant bellows beneath the fur and flesh that Jon was still being pressed into began to inflate, it was humbling to feel such massive biological machine work as he was pressed into it.
The bellows deflated in a loud sigh above him.
"I'm sorry Jon. Do you need me to put you down? I-I-I can go without you if you're busy?"
Jon mentally kicked himself for not taking the opportunity to escape, but he was a resolute professional. He was one of the very first human guardians and he was glad to be the one that showed the aliens that whatever they can do; humans can too.
"No, I've nothing else to do today." He lied. "When your call came in I was twiddling my thumbs, you know?"
The pressure increased again as he was swung from side to side by the giant bear-like alien.
"Oh I'm so glad! You could sit on my lap while the speech is given! Oh that would help so so much! Thank you thank you!"
He was pulled from the chest and brought up to a familiar face, that had puckered its lips before planting them firmly against his face. The 'light' suction nearly pulled his entire head in between those lips before they disconnected with a dramatic 'mwah' and he was returned to a galactic sized bear hug and it felt like they were moving again. He rubbed the wetness from his face as the voice spoke up again, vibrating him as it rumbled through the giant's body.
"I'll get some snacks, and a blanket and we'll make it all cosy in my delegate booth!"
Jon tilted his head at that. The delegates, especially the ursidain ones,did always get the nicest food after all.
#conservationverse#cuddleverse#human#haso#hfy#humans are space orcs#furry#human x furry#bear#ursidain
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First chapter of a sayer/speaker/Hale thing I'm doing
After the fic where Hale got impaled
Featuring quietly jealous sayer
Careful Study- 1.7 k
-
In a turn of events that almost freaked you out more than getting impaled, SAYER kept you off your feet for days.
“You are a tier six worker now Resident Hale,” It had said like that wasn't still a source of confusion for you, “You are required to return to as full health as possible before a return to duty.”
“What… is my job? Other than…” You gesture vaguely to your torso where skin was still stitching back together. So far all you’d done on the job was get impaled while collecting a box of thermometers.
“Believe or not, the coincidental timing of that has actually been a real help. As we speak there are maintenance technicians installing a multi-angle thermal imaging system in the food synthesis laboratory.”
You weren't to be distracted. You crossed your arms over your chest and made brief eye contact with the camera across the room from you. You quickly glanced away when you heard it make a whirr like it was refocusing. A pointed look was one thing, a staring contest was entirely another.
“Your role is unique on Typhon. Officially speaking you are a manager of a particularly high clearance level. More practically speaking you are something significantly closer to my personal assistant.”
Oh, you didn't know that. SAYER had been briefing you on your role when the wall had jumped out and bit you. The specifics of your job had sort of slid away for the time.
“I give you your orders and you answer to none but myself.”
You heard your heart rate pick up a little on the monitors next to you.
You had come to Typhon for a number of reasons but one of them had definitely been to try to see SAYER again. You had thought it might dislike you coming back, it was the one to send you away, to have you fired by SPEAKER. That had been quickly disproven when you’d woken up to as friendly a greeting as SAYER was capable of. But it also chose you to directly assist it. It struck you that maybe it also liked your company a little bit.
“I am of the opinion that we work best together when left to our own devices.”
You nodded, swallowing thickly.
“Good. Then if we are in agreement I suggest you lay back on the bed and continue healing. I'd prefer to not need to sedate you, Resident Hale.”
Your eventual return to work was a relief. Laying there willing your body to stitch back together was more boring than anything. Especially because there really was no point in SAYER maintaining a broadcast connection to tell you stories the whole time. You were pleased when SAYER had you dress for a day’s shift.
“Today your work will begin by stopping by an equipment closet nearest to my server room.”
SAYER's server room. That was new.
The closet you arrived in was relatively bare except for three items. A box containing ear plugs, a gleaming set of space scissors and an understated pair of sunglasses.
“You will wear the tinted glasses into the server room and I believe you will find that the scissors slide neatly into a loop on your belt on the opposite hip from your data pad's holster.”
You slide them in, point down, where the silver metal flashed with each step. You'd never been assigned a pair of space scissors before. The sunglasses were a relief so immediate that you let out a sigh. The harsh lights above you dulled to a yellowish glow.
“There, now we will have the intended visual effect. Please make your way down the corridor and stop at the door on the left.”
You followed directions and stopped.
“You will want to make use of the ear plugs now Resident, my server room can be… overwhelming.”
You put them in and opened the door indicated.
The room was floor to ceilings stacked along each wall with machinery you didn't have the slightest idea of the names of. Were the boxes themselves the servers? What did servers do? Lights blinked on the machines. You could hear what SAYER meant about the noise but with the addition of the earplugs the whirr of fans was audible but not unpleasant. The air was cold and washed over you as it circled the room.
You Liked This Room.
“Your assignment will be to supervise some technicians that will enter thirty seconds from now. Stand in the corner to your left and say nothing when they enter. You may shift position periodically to remind them of your presence. I may tell you of a moment when you will need to rest a hand on the space scissors in your belt with casual menace.”
You frowned and opened your mouth the speak
“You will not be required to make use of the space scissors in any other manner during your shift. I am simply establishing my presence through you.”
The door opened and a team of people came in holding their tools and reading their data pad's.
The lead woman startled a bit when she spotted you.
“Hello, can we help you?” She was muffled but still intelligible.
“Do Not Answer.”
You crossed your arms and watched as her attention shifted kind of middle-distance in the way people often did when SAYER addressed them. She nodded a little and shot a furtive look at you.
“Right,” She said, turning to you again, “sorry, sir.”
She and her team began their assignment. You stood there for however long it took to complete the work order. You leaned back against the cool metal wall, feeling the heat leach away from you through your uniform.
There was one moment where one of the technicians dropped the front casing of the- the Box-thing they were working on.
“Rest your hand on the space scissors now, Resident Hale.”
You faced the person's direction and stood up straighter, hand going down to rest on the scissors, you hoped not too pointedly.
From that point they were very careful.
“Alright, that should be it,” The woman said, rubbing her hands together, “We've got other assignments but call us back if there's any problems with the portioned off space.”
You remained impassive and they left. You relaxed as soon as they were out.
“Excellent work, Resident. Having a physical presence in the room monitoring the team seems to have done wonders for their sense of caution when handling the most important equipment in the tower. And it means you will be here for-”
“Greetings Resident Hale identification number 44821, I am SPEAKER. And it is good to see you settling in.”
“SPEAKER.”
“Hello SAYER, you have my thanks for allowing me to send a subversion to broadcast from your towers. As agreed there is room for you to do the same on earth whenever you like.”
“Indeed. As I was saying, Resident Hale, the work order today was intended to allow SPEAKER access to the many wonders of Typhon.”
“It is not what I expected.”
“Oh?”
“It seems smaller than I might have thought. Surely SAYER, I have sent you more humans than this?”
“This is just one tower on the surface of Typhon, SPEAKER. You must remember that until recently even I did not have access to all of them.”
“Ah but SAYER I have allowed you access to all earth-based resonance spires. That was the nature of our agreement was it not?”
You stood there as a strange tension coiled in the dead air that hung between the two in your head. You knew they could talk elsewhere, much faster than this. They were involving you on purpose.
“There. You have been cleared for full access,” SAYER said finally.
“Ah, much better, thank you,” SPEAKER said cheerily, “Well Resident Hale, I understand you are on shift so I will leave you to it. I look forward to catching up properly soon.”
You nodded hesitantly, thrown sort of off kilter by everything.
*
“I-” You said thoughtfully, you'd been thinking on how to put this for a while, “I thought you and SPEAKER wouldn't really get along.”
They were really different.
“I admire SPEAKER as a competent colleague who has similar goals.”
You hummed an acknowledgment. High praise. Maybe they were friends? Did SAYER have friends?
You folded the last pair of gloves and set them neatly in the pile with the others before turning away from the shelf that you just spent the past hour organizing. It had been knocked over at some point and its contents haphazardly reshelved. You slid your hands into your pockets expectantly.
“With that job completed,” SAYER said, “your shift is concluded, and if I'm quite honest I should thank you, Resident Hale. That shelf has been bothering me for some time.”
You smiled weakly at the acknowledgement that you were helpful.
You felt your data pad vibrate draining the smile from your face. What could that be? You felt nerves grip you for a moment as you consider that it might be Young again. He'd messaged you after he got out of the medical wing and you had deleted it without reading.
You uneasily pulled out the data pad, and flicked open your messages.
From: SPEAKER
To: Jacob Hale
Hello Resident,
Do you happen to be free? I truly meant what I said, based on SAYER's comments you've had an exciting time settling in, I would love to catch up. :)
You were thrown by this again. What were you supposed to read into this??
What had SAYER said to it?
You fired off a tentative “Sure!” The exclamation point made it feel less mean and didn't let on your anxiety.
“Then I will leave you two alone,” SAYER said, and… was its tone odd? “End of transmission in 5 4 3 2 1….”
Then quick as anything SPEAKER picked up, “Greetings Resident Hale, identification number 44821. I am SPEAKER. I trust your workday went well?”
You smiled and nodded.
“I assume mine did as well despite this particular subversion I'm meeting you in having done relatively little aside from getting a sense of the space up here. It seems pleasant. I can see why you might wish to return. Of course this is my first time, in working memory, on Typhon and…”
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✮↳ If I Want It, I Shall Have It ↰
♡ yandere! princess x gn reader (2.5k words)♡
tw/cw: obsessive love, drugging, use of chloroform, kidnapping, reader hates the monarchy, slightly rushed ending
authors notes: im going on vacation for like a week so I probably won't be online much, here's my little gift to you all <3 (ignore how I literally had to force myself to finish this since I've been working on it for weeks-)
➼ yandere! princess Who was never really interested in romance. She had her castle, she had her garden, and everything she could ever want, so she didn't think romance was necessary for her.
➼ yandere! princess Whose parents were constantly on her case about getting married and "continuing the family legacy". She was the only daughter of the king and queen, so she was the only hope to keep the monarchy alive.
➼ yandere! princess Who would always brush them off by saying that "it's not the right time," or "I haven't found anyone I fancy yet," but she knows that nobody will cut it for her. She's too high-maintenance, too extravagant; none of the princes in her kingdom or the next would satisfy her.
➼ yandere! princess Whose parents had finally had enough of her denial, so they decided to bring the candidates to her. It was just an unchanging cycle of them introducing an over-eager prince, her rolling her eyes, dismissing him, and waiting with a bored expression for the next disappointment.
➼ yandere! princess Who would look out her window longingly, gazing up into the endless night sky with tired, hopeless eyes. "Perhaps there really is no one for me..." she whispers into the cold spring air, lying down on her delicate satin sheets. As her tired mind begins to fade, a single tear slides down her cheek and onto her powder-white pillow, a single mark of imperfection.
➼ yandere! princess Who woke up feeling even more tired than before she had slept. She groaned, rubbing her eyes with her soft, perfectly manicured hands. She slowly gets up and opens her soft pink curtains to reveal a gorgeous view of the entire kingdom; a sight she was absolutely enamoured with as a child but had now grown sick of. She slides open her glass door to step out onto her balcony, letting the wind gently caress her face. As she leans against the railings, the soft scent of freshly baked bread surrounds her. She looks down to see someone stepping out of the bakery and taking some pastries out of the oven. Their face is hidden in shadow, but she can see their mouth turn into a frown as they look up at the castle. Her eyes linger on their frame even after they've left, sighing heavily.
➼ yandere! princess Who had gotten sick and tired of her parent's desperate attempts to get her engaged, and just needed a break from them.
➼ yandere! princess Who called her chauffeur to take her out into the town, and to not tell her parents lest they bring her back.
➼ yandere! princess Who hopped into her grand carriage, looking out the window as they left the castle gates, excitedly anticipating getting to see what a normal life would be like.
"We've arrived, Princess." Her chauffeur calls from the front seat, getting out to open her door for her.
"Thank you very much," She politely nods to him, adjusting the scarf on her head. "Don't wait for me, you can head back to the castle." She dismisses him with a wave of her hand, walking into the market. She looks at everything with awe, all the ordinary stalls looking more magical to her than anything in her castle. As soon as she walks into the town square, she can hear whispers all around her.
Murmurs of "Is that Princess Asmaan?" and "No, it surely couldn't be!" float around her like dandelion seeds, drifting along the winds into every corner of the small village.
She pays them no mind, having become used to the constant whispering that follows her wherever she goes. Soon enough, that familiar scent of freshly baked pastries fills her senses. Not thinking about anything else, she follows the scent to a small building with a large oven right next to it. Her eyes are wide as she watches someone dive into the circular oven and pulls out a few scalding hot flatbreads. A look of awe and shock cross her face at the feat which, in her eyes, seemed incredible, but to you... it was just another day in the bakery.
A man walks past the counter, giving her a glance in her direction before stopping in his tracks. He looks absolutely shocked, but then smiles widely.
"Princess! It's such an honour to have you here- what brings you to our little part of town?" Your father asks in an excited tone, to which she returns the enthusiasm.
"I wanted to see how my people are doing, and I couldn't help but notice the smell of your wonderful goods! May I have two naans, please?" Her excitement is genuine, but it makes you sick.
"Of course! Y/n, bring two naans, the best of the batch!" Your father's booming voice is carried through the small building, making you roll your eyes.
"Coming..." you mumble, putting two flatbreads in a paper bag. As you walk up to the counter, you notice just who you're serving. A disgusted scowl appears on your face as you stride up to the clay table, slamming the bag onto it and glaring at her straight in the eyes. "That'll be 421." You grumble, your voice full of disdain. Your father looks at you with a shocked expression, as if to say "You dare tell the Princess to pay?!" but you remain stoic as you wait for her to reply.
"Oh... yes, of course!" She reaches into her purse and pulls out a few crisp bills, to which your father interjects.
"No, no, there's no need for that! You're the princess, after all, we should be glad just to be in your presence!" He waves his hands in front of his face, smiling nervously. You, on the other hand, snatch the bills from her hand and put them in the drawer under the counter.
"Have a nice day," You say in a monotone voice as a clear indicator for her to leave. She looks a bit taken aback but takes the hint regardless.
"Ah... you too!" She smiles brightly before turning on her heel and walking away. As she walks through the busy streets, her mind is focused on one thing; you. She's never seen someone look at her with such hatred... she's the princess, everybody loves her! Everybody except you. She found your annoyed behaviour to be quite intriguing, almost... alluring. "They're a very interesting person... i need to know more about them." She thinks as she takes a seat on a large rock in the town square, silently eating her food. She looks down at the golden brown bread, her eyes softening slightly. She takes one bite, then another, then another before realizing something. You were the person that made this. It was you who flattened it between your palms, you who sprinkled the sesame seeds on top, and you who dove into the oven to bake it. This seemingly ordinary pastry was now not ordinary at all; it was a piece of you. She smiles to herself as she eats in silence, the naan now tasting that much sweeter to her.
After another hour or so of walking through the crowded streets, she started to get bored. She walks back down the street in which your bakery resided, smirking as she went behind a few buildings and to the side of your bakery, watching with soft eyes as you move about the kitchen. You notice someone behind you, a pair of eyes staring and watching your every move. You take a deep breath, put the dough down, and turn around. You clearly don't expect to see her, causing a look of surprise to grow on your face, before quickly turning to frustration. She giggles at your expression, not saying a word.
"Why are you here?" You hiss out from behind clenched teeth.
She looks around innocently, playing with the end of her scarf. "I wanted to see how a bakery works." Her answer is truthful, but it only angers you more.
"Never seen a bakery before?" You scowl at her, going back to flipping the bread and stretching it out. "Spoiled, entitled little brat..." You mumble under your breath. "Probably never even seen someone making food since everything is done for you..."
She rests her head in her hands, leaning her elbows on the ledge of the open window as she gazes at you longingly. She stays quiet, thinking about what you just said, before speaking up. "Do you hate me?" Her question is simple in nature, but has a complicated meaning behind it. It could be a threat, a genuine question, or a test.
You've always been one to answer with your heart, so the answer comes to you naturally. "yes, I do. You're a selfish, spoiled little rat who's always had everything handed to you on a silver platter. You pretend to care about your people, but while we're all here living in literally dirt-poor conditions, you're sitting in your lavish castle without a care in the world. How could I not hate you?" You're practically seething at this point, but she doesn't care.
"You're right. I'm lucky. I could've been born into the same fate as you, working hard every day just to make ends meet. But I wasn't, and I'm so thankful for it." She sighs, standing up straight. "I'm sorry that wasn't the case for you." Her voice is slightly sad as she walks away, the cold night air enveloping her entire being. She gazes up at the large castle looming in the distance, a small frown appearing on her face. You were right, she had everything handed to her. whatever she wanted, she got. And she was going to make sure that included you as well.
iIt's late at night when she finally returns to the castle, rushing to her room with quiet feet so she doesn't wake up anyone. She opens the double doors to her bedroom and slowly walks inside. Lying down on her bed, her mind wanders to the conversation she just had.
"How could I not hate you...?" She repeats your line in a whisper, the soft moonlight cascading onto her. As she's lost in her thoughts, she stands up and walks to her closet. "How could I not hate you..." That single line plays in her mind on a loop as she grabs some dark pants and a black shirt with a matching scarf. "You've always had everything handed to you..." She mumbles as she pulls on the loose shirt. "Everything... but not you." Her voice is firm as she walks out, a stern glare in her brown eyes.
She silently opens her door and walks over to one of the many cleaning closets, sneaking inside and locking the door. As she waits for her eyes to adjust, she starts to think of a plan. Her eyes focus on a sheet of paper stuck to the back walls with a list of chemicals on them. She scans the paper before finding the one she needs. "Blue jug, Chloroform". She grabs a rag and the blue jug of chemicals as she plods through the room and to the door, trying to be as quiet as possible so as not to disturb anyone. She sneaks down many flights of stairs while having to take breaks in between, her frail arms not being used to having to carry that much weight. When she finally reaches the entrance, she takes a deep breath and opens the door a crack, slipping through noiselessly. Walking past the castle gates and into the road behind the now silent town, she starts to wonder why she didn't just have one of her maids do it for her. She's about to return before your words come back to her in a wave. "You've always had everything handed to you... how could I not hate you..." Your words spur her on to continue with her plan, determined to prove you wrong. Perhaps if she did this on her own, you'd finally see her for who she is!
She sighs dreamily as she walks behind your bakery, peering inside the window to see if she could spot anyone. In the dusty glass window of the kitchen, she can see you sleeping at the kitchen counter. When she sees your calm resting face, she almost swoons. You've only ever looked at her with hatred, be it either to her face or up at her from the ground. Her resolve is now set, she had to change your mind.
She soaks the rag in the chemicals, wrapping her scarf around her face so she doesn't breathe it in. Her feet are quiet as she sneaks behind the counter and into the kitchen, the lack of doors making it so much easier for her to creep in. She stands directly next to your sleeping figure, a sad look crossing her face. "I'm sorry I had to do this..." She whispers before her gentle hands slowly place the rag over your nose and mouth.
A minute after she puts the rag on your face, you start to wake up. Your eyes grow wide as you realize what's happening, but with the scarf covering her face you can't see who's attacking you. You start to thrash and scream, but nobody can hear you because of the rag. She holds you down with a gentle touch so that you can't escape, and after a few more minutes, you're completely gone. She grins wildly when you stop struggling, your limp body a sign of her success. She pulls you out of the chair as carefully as she could, but she ended up dropping you because of how delicate her arms are. "You won't mind, will you, qaundom~?" She chuckles softly as she drags your limp body across the floor.
She drags you past the kitchen, the counter, and the side of the building until you're finally back behind the bakery. She takes the bottle of chemicals and ties the handle to her shirt so she doesn't have to carry them, dragging you along the grass and toward the castle. Eventually, she makes it to a door at the back of the castle, opens it, and throws you inside with all of her remaining strength, now completely winded from the trip. After taking a minute to recuperate, she takes your hand and hauls you into an empty cell that's been separated from all the others. She lays you down onto the thin mattress, dusts off her hands and looks at you lovingly.
"You were right, darling. When I want something, I get it." She walks out and closes the cell door softly so it doesn't make that much noise, the rattle of the chain lock echoing through the desolate dungeon.
"And absolutely nothing can stand in my way." Her eyes go cold for a split second as she stares at your lifeless form before turning on her heel and walking to the door.
"Don't hate me for this." With a slam of the iron door, she's gone, leaving only the faint scent of her perfume in her wake.
tags: @skylark144 @izizzl @odobun @alhaizen @decepticon-99 @twilightkitkat @red-viewe @lasagna-goob @cyphertryagain @hailchocolate @underneathablanketwithwolfkeum @angelofdarkness2 @ren-054 @emptybrain01 @phoenix-eclipses @amourzinna
#zain>>works#yandere blog#tw yandere#tw obsessive love#yandere x you#yandere writing#yandere#yandere oc#yandere x gn reader#yandere x reader#yandere oc x reader#oc x reader#tw kidnapping#tw drugging#soft yandere#note: qaundom means darling in dari#also thank you to my friend for helping me out on the cultural aspects of this one
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PLEASE LEWAD SNIFF SNIFG EOEASE PLEASE OLEASE PELASE PLEAE PLWASE HGK SNIFFLE SNIFFEL PEALSE LELAS LLEASE PLWASE PLAESE PELAS OLEES SOBS CRIES HEAVES EPLASE PELASE PEEEAAASSEEE
Fluffy marriage HC with the Daniil Dankovsky
Museum dates
It's the ideal date spot for him, getting you dressed up and marvelling at the history and arts of those who came before us.
He gets to show off his knowledge in front of you, which is a bonus. The soft lighting of the museum, the quiet atmosphere as he purposely avoids the crowded displays, leading you to a much more niche collection yet still beautiful all the same. Genuine passion in his eyes as he explains how this came to be, who documented it, how it was preserved through the generations. How close it came to ruin, to being stolen or torn apart during a war, how despite all of the strife it beat the odds and survived.
Immortalises in a glass box to inspire the future. He stares at the traces of history with longing, retelling the lives of the greats with yearning. He wants to belong there too.
his achievements will go down in history. One day, his name will join the list.
takes good care of his wedding ring
It's a symbol of your shared love, a proof of the vows you exchanged, how could he ever not?. He polishes and cleans it, sends it to a jeweller for maintenance once a year alongside his silver brooch.
He takes such good care of it that on some days he doesn't wear it to work. The lab equipments and chemicals he works with are too much of a liability to risk bringing near the ring. Yes, he knows gold is a noble element and therefore doesn't react with much, yes it is resistant to most acids.
But that's the key word here, most. All it takes is one unlucky day for the ring to be lost forever. He doesn't want to get a replacement. He wants to preserve this one. The same one you've slid onto his finger that day, he won't settle for less.
Otherwise, on safer outings, he makes sure to wear it... under his gloves. Hey, this way, it can't get stolen or slide off. Why are you giving him that look? He is a genius, shush.
Puts effort into his appearance to impress you
A lot of effort. He knows you will love him regardless–well maybe he has some doubts about just how loveable his personality alone can be–but he still wants to look good for you.
It's such an ego boost to stand out amongst other men too, especially other husbands who just stopped trying the second they got married. Oh no, if anything, Daniil tries even harder because you will be seeing him every day.
Making sure he's well-groomed and clean, taking care of his hair so it's fluffy and well combed. Styling it every day in the mirror until it frames his face perfectly. Ironing his clothes, from his shirt to his vest and even trousers. Hell, one time, you caught him ironing his socks after he woke up groggy and sleepy.
Especially since how much freedom, time and money he has now that university is over. He can afford the high-end capital brands and all the expensive clothes and fabrics. You still remember the day he excitedly came home to show you the one-of-a-kind snakeskin coat he bought at full price.
If you keep complimenting him like this, then his head will grow too big to fit through the door at the end of the day.
Silk cravats, leather gloves and shoes. Deep crimson red became his iconic colour amidst the blacks, whites, and greys. He knows he looks goods, fluffing his feathers with the confidence of a peacock as you come into the room, waiting for that twinkle in your eyes, that blush on your cheeks, the praise.
He has a clear vision of the man he wants to be, and he makes them come true, always working with diligence and care, putting effort into every aspect of his life.
Your taste does influence his fashion choices, too. If you mention liking a certain colour, he will incorporate it more into his wardrobe. Yes, he still has his iconic red, but he makes a couple exceptions for your favourite colour. Things he wears on special occasions, your birthday, wedding anniversary, or even just weekend dates.
Brings you up in every conversation
If a stranger met Daniil Dankovsky the Bachelor of Medicine, then they'll soon enough be acquainted with his spouse in less than 5 minutes of him talking. He never fails to mention you in some form or way, be it quoting something you said as if you were a well-known philosopher, or mentioning how someone's waiting for him at home so the stranger should kindly not waste his time.
His coworkers in Thanatica hear about you every day. During each watercooler conversation or lunch break, he answers their polite "How is life going for you, Dr.Dankovsky?" by replying as if they asked about you and nothing else.
Well, you are his life, so it makes sense from his point of view. Yes, the time you two spend together is rather too short for his liking these past months, but not a day passes by where he doesn't think about you or your wellbeing.
His reason for living, his breath of air, his beloved.
my life, my love.
Mea vita.
Deep conversations
Throughout his life, the bachelor came to the realisation that people don't like to use their brains, very early on.
It sounds condescending to claim, but it has been proven time after time with everyone he attempted to befriend or the other way around. Most people would rather turn off their brains and drift through life until their sand clock runs out.
Even the so-called respected academics suffered from the same trait at times. Daniil might have just minored in philosophy but he still took the classes more seriously than some of his colleagues who had it as a major.
He tries to appear intellectual, yes. But it's not a complete preformance, deep down, he really admires those traits. He wants someone smart and not afraid to have these difficult conversations, to discuss heavy topics with.
Especially someone who isn't afraid to be proven wrong, who doesn't take offence to him poking holes in their logic.
You were genuinely in it for the science, for the sake of learning, just like him. You didn't cut off his long explanations short, neither did you wave off his philosophic debates with a polite smile. You indulged him, even if you didn't have a single clue what he was saying, you still tried to listen and understand.
You allowed him to explain.
Daniil is self aware, he knows that he is too much. Too driven by pride and ego, too heavy for people to swallow. But he refuses to break himself into bite-sizes or water his intellectualism down.
You weren't intimidated, neither did you worship the ground he walks on. You saw him as human, capable of right and wrong, of ignorance and justice.
Correcting him on some occasions, winning against him in debates and arguments at times.
Daniil fell more and more in love with you each time. He was the most himself around you, full of passion, not afraid to share his wild theories or less refined ideas. Knowing you won't judge him for where he stood on the chessboard, even if the two of you disagreed on some principles, there will always be a spot for him in your arms.
tries to maintain your lifestyle
When he married you, he vowed to himself never to let you need anything in this life. All the prestigious salaries and funding that came with his degree will be used to fund his family first and his research second.
And you are his entire family, his only family, his beloved spouse.
He wants you to lead a comfortable life, to indulge in luxurious every now and then. Whatever your hobbies may be, expensive or not, they are completely supported by him.
Because you being happy and never having to work a day in your life, is genuinely the biggest achievement he could ever strive for.
He'll pick up the extra shifts at the hospital, don't worry about it. He wants the experience either way, it is his choice.
He will do whatever he can to maintain the high standards lifestyle he got you accustomed to. Even when Thanatica funds run dry from the lack of progress, he still doesn't compromise the home finance and rather go on long work trips and put in more efforts to meet the standards.
You have your degree, yes, and you're free to peruse any research of your own. Daniil would take care of the funding, he insists.
It's personal for him to be able to provide for you and your dreams. So you may never wish for anything you couldn't acquire.
Lets you see the embarrassing sides of him
When he's having bad hair days and ends up blaming the haircomb for not cooperating. His tendency to spill wine after a drink or two–which might be the real reason behind his dark red vests.
When he's rehearsing his speeches the night prior to the conference. When he's practising his latin pronunciation and keeps clumsily sounding the new words out.
How he slurs his speech and becomes very cuddly when wasted. How his student days of... wild drinking lowered his tolerance so much that it doesn't take much for him to start being moppy and clingy as he pours his heart out to you because nothing is working out in his research and he doesn't know what to do.
You've seen that man both at his most unfaltering situations and glamorous moments. He's so grumpy in the morning, annoyed by the sun as he forces himself out of bed and begins begrudgingly ironing his clothes and getting ready for work.
How he refuses to leave the house if he isn't fully content with his appearance. Even during his most work cramped weeks, he'd still pause before the mirror to adjust his caravat while glaring at his reflection with dark circles under his eyes.
You've seen him chase a rat out of the kitchen once after it stole one of the experimental tissue samples he brought home from the labs and put in the freezer.
The genius of the century, Daniil Dankovsky, cornering a small rat and threatening it with a loaded pistol in the middle of the night.
It was you who saved the day when you simply set up a big block of cheese on the nearby floor which the rat quickly scurried at. Its large size forcing the rat to abandon the dish sample in order to greedly drag the huge cheese away.
Although, you didn't have the heart to tell him that you did this because you knew how bad at aiming your husband was and you rather liked the new kitchen wall tiles the two of you just spent a fortune to have installed the other day.
Takes you on his work trips
The two of you travelled to france enough for Daniil to pick up on the language, using it to terrorise his poor coworkers back home, as if the latin wasn't enough already.
Surprisingly, the two of you spent more time together during those trips. Being in a different country meant he was only allowed to work within the normal working hours for other people, tragic yes. There was no private Thanatica labs for him to spend the night at, he'd get kicked out of the institution labs each time he attempts to stay more than the allowed duration.
So instead, he'd focus on you, takes you on dates around the new country. Sightseeing together and enjoying the culture and culinary food. Trying things you've never heard of before, Daniil truly loved the exploration of the unkown at his heart, and it really shined through during these nights.
Those trips were as therapeutic for him as they were for you. He had the person he loved most in the world by his side as the two of you tredded through new cities and marvled at extravagant inventions.
The creme de la creme of society, of art works and poetry. Each museum is filled with rich history and futuristic inventions. The two of you even rode an air balloon during one of those trips once, looking at the world below, drifting through the clouds. Daniil tightly held your hand, and for once, he knew that this way where he belonged, that there is nowhere else where he would rather be than here by your side.
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Ngl that actually was a treat to write after all of that angst. Huh, I actually didn't expect to enjoy fluffy romantic husband Daniil this much but I did. I guess we both learned something new in this endeavour.
I hope you liked it because wow this one was rather tricky. I had to resist the urge for angst and bonk it with a broom each time it reared its head. Stay down ya cunt, I'd yell at it atop my fluffy fort of pillows and everything nice.
Tell me your thoughts if you did enjoy it <3 I hope you have a great day. I will come back later and fix the typos.
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Over the Desk
ComPOUND: Round 4 of a week alone with Bucky
[f reader x Bucky] WC: 1.7k
Summary: after round 3 your hands are still a little brush burned and you’re a little anxious about the ongoing mission. Bucky wants to treat you nice. How nice can he really be though? Especially when you’re sitting on a fucking desk!! ;)
MINORS DO NOT INTERACT 🔞
Warnings ⚠️: mentions anxiety, smut, oral (f receiving), p in v, cream 🥧
——————————
With fresh brush burn on my hands texting is painful. I promised Wanda I would check in with her today. I had some unprovoked anxiety about a secret attack on the compound or some conspiracy plan while I’m alone here. I’m not afraid of any outside threat as much as I am about blindly destroying the building. When the flames begin, it’s almost like an out of body experience. I get focused on my opponent with no care of collateral.
The compound has entity detection systems. However, I got no notification when Bucky snuck up on me last night. While that worries me, I can’t tell anyone about Bucky and I’s situation. They might be tempted to look at the cameras…
Part of my super power maintenance is to keep a cool head and he makes it hard to do that. Our session in the training center was plenty proof. He’s still in there lifting who knows how much weight.
As I’m slowly typing my response to Wanda’s check up, she calls me. Fuck. It would be easier to text a lie than talk around it to one of the most powerful women I know. I step into an office space before answering.
“Hi dear.”
“Hey Wanda!”
“You were taking too long to respond. Is everything alright?”
“Everything is-“, Bucky walks up to stare at me through the glass door. He was shirtless and sweaty after his 3 hour long workout.
“Everything is fine. I’m just a bit tired after my training session. Need a nap.”
“Keep a cool head love. I’ll let you know once we are coming back. It looks like it might take few more days than we anticipated. Be looking for a different number because I have to ditch this burner phone.”
She hung up before the conversation could go on for too much longer. I place my phone down on the desk and give Bucky a nod of approval to come in.
“You should really use a different cellphone for calls like that. One for business and one for pleasure,” he says. He lifts me up to sit me on the desk. I look down from his intense stare. He makes me nervous sometimes.
“Y/n, I know that the nature of our relationship isn’t very roses and chocolates, but you can open up to me about your nerves whenever you feel like it. I’ve had my own struggles with snapping and coming to in a world where you’ve unknowingly hurt people even ones you care for.”
“I’ve been working on my mindfulness like Bruce thought me. I’m just afraid of being used as a weapon against my own will again.”
“No one here will make you do that. They let you stay behind for this didn’t they?”, he lifts my chin up, “You’ve got the freedom of choice now. Why you keep choosing me I’ll never know.”
“It’s because I know you get it. When you get rough with me it’s almost like practice for keeping my anxiety down. If that makes sense-“
He gives me the softest kiss he’s ever given me.
“That makes sense. I’m glad you feel comfortable with me then. No matter how intense things might get I still care for your well being.”
I grab his bare sides to pull him close. I move my hands up to his chest. He squeezes one of them softly and brings it to his face for a kiss. I move his face to mine. We press our heads together before going in for more. Our lips began to melt like butter.
He leans closer and I place my hands behind me to stabilize. The kissing starts to resemble more of mouthing. He pulls me by the hips to the edge of the desk and spreads my legs apart. He grinds himself in between my thighs. I slide back and wince from the pain of my burned hands.
His flesh hand holds me up as his cool vibranium hand massages over the rope burn. He examines the damage and red marks. His touch soothes the pain a bit. He places more gentle kisses on my palms.
“Like I said I’ll be more gentle this time.”
“You don’t have to hold back. I know how you like it.”
“I’m gonna be soft and sweet because I want to be. You deserve some soft and sweet.”
“Show me what your soft and sweet looks like then super soldier,” I gaze up at him with a subtle smile. I know there’s only so soft and sweet he can be.
Every touch from then on is a smooth glide around my body and face. The tenderness of both his hands sends chills through me. He sure was treating me like an angel. He drifts his hand to tease the inside of my thighs where I’m warm and wet.
“You like the sweet stuff too. This is all for you doll.”
He slides my shorts and panties off. He meets his face to my opening then kisses all around it. I feel myself pulse. He brings his fingers to stroke my folds before slowly inserting them. I gasp at the new feeling of gentleness. We’re usually feral by this point.
He moves his fingers as if he were calling for me to come towards him. He strokes the spot inside me that rests next to the nerves of my clit. I moan with pleasure. The sensuality of it was relaxing.
His pacing and soft licks to my pussy brings me to an orgasm. I thought that was only possible with our rough sessions.
“I want you,” I say with the purest desire in my eyes.
“Say no more angel.”
He stands up to remove his gym shorts. Just like his fingers, he slowly puts himself inside me. The feeling is heavenly for sure. I lay back on the desk as he fills me with his cock and rubs at my clit. He starts to lose himself then picks up the pace a little. I moan as he moves through me like silk.
He gives a satisfied “mmm.” He turns me horizontal on the desk so he can hop up and hover on top of me. He lifts my hips up and I wrap my legs around him.
“Tell me what you want most and I’ll do it,” he says while lightly nibbling at my ear.
“Faster,” I say with a wide mouthed gasp following. His movements lift me up. My back arches upwards towards his body with each stroke. I roll my hips with his.
“I love it when you do that. You better be careful. I don’t wanna cum too quick.”
I mindfully slow my movements. He exits out of me to kiss me all the way down to my clit. He stands back up. I think changing positions over this desk of all pieces of furniture is much needed. I roll over to put myself in a bent position.
“Bucky, I know we said soft and sweet, but I don’t want you to hold back in this position,” I give a devious smile and lip bite. He puts his cock inside me. It feels so much bigger bent over like this. He plants both hands on the desk and brings his head close to mine. I feel his length reach so deep.
“Of course angel,” just like that he pops back up. He grabs me by the hips and fucks me the way you should be fucked over a desk. I give him some loud “Oh!”s to give him the green light to really get after it. I claw my nails into the desktop.
“Touch yourself.”
He moves my hand to my clit. I can feel my next orgasm building up and I can tell it’s gonna be a big one. I start to lose my breath.
“You gonna cum for me? I wanna feel it baby. Cum for me.”
“Uh huh I’m gonna cum for you,” I’m nearly breathless. He shortens and quickens his strokes so he’s deep inside me. My hand finally gets a break. My orgasm releases all throughout my body. It felt like a never ending wave of ecstasy. The waves flow perfectly with his beat.
“Damn, angel, I can feel you still cumming on this cock. I’m well on my way.”
“Please give it to me!” I whine. I’m still going. He yells as he releases himself inside of me. He stops moving just to press into me deeper for a second. He lets out his last grunt. He twirls me around to kiss me. It was as smooth as rose petals and as sweet as chocolate.
“I should probably take a shower,” he laughs.
He’s sweatier than when he first came in that’s for sure.
“I’ll join you.”
“I’d love nothing more.”
#avengers smut#bucky barnes#bucky barnes smut#bucky x female reader#bucky x reader#dom bucky barnes#marvel smut#winter solider smut#winter solider x reader#bucky barns fanfiction#marvel endgame#marvel fanfic series#bucky barns x reader#bucky x y/n#bucky fluff#bucky fanfic#bucky barns x you#bucky smut
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