#and how unique their braids all seem to be

[neege]

Lesbian Wolfstar Prom AU!!

Part III

Part I | Part II

Part III!! Finally some substance!!! And an explanation of who the hell Emma Pierce is lol. I just read the lesbian wolfstar au that @werewolfenthusiast just posted and it inspired me to update this since it's been sitting in my drafts hehe. I hope you like it!! Remus is struggling in this one, again...

Oh also I learned how to add a cut!!! Part III below 🥰

Remus had always known to an extent that she wasn't particularly interested in boys, at least not in the way that other girls her age seemed to be. Being homeschooled until she was 14, she didn't really interact with any kids her age, and after spending a year at her new fancy private school, she still didn't have a good understand of what her peers were going on about in regard to the sweaty, annoying boys in their year.

So yeah, she already knew she didn't care to be swept up behind the science building with a strong senior football player so he could shove his tongue down her throat—which honestly... does anyone actually want that??—but it wasn't until a sleepover with Lily Evans, winter break of Sophomore year that things... clicked for Remus. She still remembers the fluttery feeling in her stomach, watching Kate Winslet kiss Leo while Lily braided her hair, and she still isn't sure if it was Kate herself or the feeling of another girl's fingers carding so gently through her curls, but she understood herself a bit better that night.

She never watched Titanic again, and she packed that knowledge away in a private little box shoved to the back of her head, locked and not to be opened until she was maybe 30. Or 40. 

And then she became friends with James and Peter.

And Sirius.

The four of them became fast friends—inseparable at all times—god, she loved them all so much.

But Sirius was different.

It was so hard to understand how Remus felt while being around Sirius. She had always been the most beautiful person in any room, maybe in the world, but although it did not go unnoticed by Remus by any means, there was always something else that just... stood out.

She was so smart and quick and funny in a cool, cutting way that no one else their age was. She was top of the class without trying and she was passionate and she made boys cry. She was captivating. And Remus was drawn to her in a way she's never been before.

And then she showed up to the first day of school with a new hair cut and the entire school whispering behind her back—did you hear? Black's a lesbian now—striding confidently up to their typical lunch spot, and Remus knew: she was in so much trouble. 

From that day forward, all she could think about was Sirius. 

Sirius's laugh.

Sirius's eyes. 

Sirius's long fingers and what they might possibly be able to do... 

It was torture.

But she also couldn't help but feel like maybe there could be something there, Remus and Sirius had always been something else—something different than the soul-bond that James and Sirius had, and something much more than her friendly but strained relationship with Pete, even something unique from the friendships Sirius shared with other girls their year. 

They were different, Remus was so sure.

And just when she was starting to come around to the idea of maybe trying her hand at flirting—for the first time!—James decided it would be a grand idea to discuss Sirius's taste in girls.

It was something that he'd apparently been trying to push with Sirius since she'd come out to them all—he seemed to be under the impression that talking about the girls Sirius might like would make everyone, but especially Sirius, feel more comfortable in their friendships. Remus wasn't sure. She kinda thought that maybe they shouldn't know so much about each other.

Unless it's me she likes. I wouldn't mind knowing that.

It had been a failing endeavor for about 2 months, with Sirius refusing to speak about the subject unless it was to crack a joke about Lily, which James was not very amused by. 

And then one early November school day, it happened. 

"Come on Sirius, we all know you have a type! You're so damn particular about everything else, how could you not!" 

"Shut up, dumbass!" Sirius was leaned back in her plastic school chair, balancing on the back two legs in a way that arched her back and pulled at her shirt to reveal her bellybutton—which Remus was decidedly not looking at.

"Just because you're always drooling after every red head you see doesn't suddenly mean everyone likes the same type of girl. Besides, girls aren't just separated into types like that, they're not movie genres." Remus felt good about this answer. It was smart, like everything else Sirius said. 

"Okay fine! Then just tell me who you like—" 

"Jesus Christ James we've been over this! I don't like anyone, this isn't middle school!"

"Fuck off, I don't believe you at all! You're always so defensive about it whenever I ask, there's gotta be someone here that you like. There's like a million girls at this school—" "Not true." "—there has to be one that you at least think is hot. Just tell me, and I'll drop it." 

Sirius sighed in response and pinched the bridge of her nose with her long fingers, which again, Remus wasn't looking at. She was, however, listening very carefully for Sirius's answer while badly pretending to complete the assignment that had been given to them fifteen minutes ago. She'd answered two out of twenty-five questions so far. 

"If I tell you, you can't make it a whole thing okay?" "I can't promise that at all, but I won't ask again for the rest of the day!"

Sirius squinted at him for a moment before responding, "Deal." 

She sat forward, smacking the chair fully back to all-fours before leaning her elbows on the edge of the desk. She looked around the small classroom, and Remus couldn't help but follow her gaze—what was she looking for? Was there some kind of secret... thing? Some secret power that slowed her gaze long enough to be noticed? Remus wanted it, whatever it was.

Finally, Sirius leaned forward even more, until her voice could be heard quietly as she declared: "Emma Pierce is pretty hot." 

Emma. Emma Pierce. 

Varsity Cheerleader with the long, smooth blonde hair and beautiful curves that Remus has heard Pete grossly wax poetic about on many occasions. 

That Emma Pierce.

James let out a long whistle and clapped Sirius on the back—Remus noticed the pale-pink tint developing on her lovely cheeks and it made her stomach lurch.

"Damn Sirius. I was right, you would go for the hottest girl in school—" "Lily, James?" "—excluding my beautiful Lily of course. Nice! you should make a move, see where it leads!"

Sirius let out a short, loud laugh and shoved James away roughly. "I'm not going for anyone, dipshit. I just think she's pretty, she's got that long hair and... yeah I'm not talking about this anymore, actually!" She stood up as the bell rang and began collecting her things. "Someone wake up Pete, I think he drooled on his assignment." 

Remus sat, stunned, and thought about her own frizzy brown hair. The color of dirt. 

It at least used to be long, down to her waist even, but Remus had decided to chop it all off as a show of solidarity with Sirius this year. Her mom had cried when she cut it. She'd wanted it to look edgy and cool, kind of like the short, mullet-y style hair Sirius sported now, but it looked more like she was the young mom of a two year old with a baby on the way. The frizzy curls now just touched under her jawline, and when Sirius had first seen it, she had ruffled the curls aggressively with a beaming smile. It was amazing.

"Moons, you alright?" Sirius broke her out of her reverie, and was looking at her with wide, concerned steel-grey eyes. 

Her eyelashes are so long. 

"Yeah... m'fine Pads." 

Oh my god, I'm so fucked.

[1000dactyls]

Obsessed with your hc that they all have their own unique braid pattern and Stoick does it for trans girl hiccup like it legitimately making me tear up 😭 but do you have any more tgirl hiccup trans hc? Hiccup is always kinda seen as trans masc, which yeah look at him but hardly transfemme

i do! actually, i’m working on a fic right now where i explore more tgirl hiccup and how that changes her sense of self and relationship to others. though, it’s a bit more exploratory and not as chronological as my other httyd wip, which is a canon-divergence exploring a “what-if” where hiccup doesn’t grow up on berk and is trying to find his mom, but somehow ends up in berk anyway to end the war… but i digress!!!

So here are some assorted thoughts for you :D

i do think tgirl hiccup still has stubble (she doesn’t shave every day, though it does depend on whether she can handle the sensory experience that day). In part it’s because there’s less stigma about it; i dont think berkian society cares much about girls having facial hair so long as whatever hair does exist is well-kept, and whoever that hair belongs to is alive. And if anyone says otherwise, then snotlout and the twins are there to kick their teeth in. And also because facial hair and body hair in general are just parts of our bodies and i like being able to include that…! she also has arm hair, at least the bits that survive the forge.

Initially hiccup grows her hair out, enough to put it in a ponytail, but at least by the time httyd2 rolls around it’s back to being shoulder length/short again. Long hair does not make for fun flights, as it turns out, because her hair gets REALLY tangled. Even though Astrid is very handy with a comb. And her fingers.

gothi gets this girl on estrogen. with the help of strategically placed padding/armor and the lean muscle she’s built up flying toothless, hiccup slowly begins to fill out, though she’s still scrawny and gangly and a toothpick

I think by virtue of living with a single dad (and a gobber)(lord. stoick and gobber’s bromantic/homoerotic relationship is a post for another day), Hiccup already knows how to do what are considered “womanly” chores. That being said, she isn’t particularly extraordinary at any of them — she doesn’t have Snotlout’s proficiency with needlework nor Tuffnut’s cooking skills, lacks Astrid’s finesse with laundry and Ruffnut’s clever compositions with kennings, and certainly can’t match up to the way Fishlegs manages little ones. Which is fine — her skills lie elsewhere, in the forge and with dragons. At least she can cook a decent enough meal for her and her father and Gobber, and that’s enough for their little family.

Toothless was told first and he also knew first. They’re two halves of a whole, not-so-much a girl and a dragon as they are a single entity, a We, and i think toothless would also trans his gender in solidarity/kinship but hiccup shakes her finger and is like You and I both know damn well you feel like a boy. and he’s like (chuffs)(human gender is stupid… how limiting !). One day he will be able to communicate the nuances of dragon gender to his stupid human. But for now, Hiccup will call Toothless a “boy,” and that is the limits of human language.

[elliesbff]

“i need you.” — abby anderson

hi hi! sorry it took me so long to get to this second part, i’ve been going through a lot mentally and have just been trying to get my head around things. i genuinely hope this teeters to your satisfaction ♡ thank you for all the likes on pt 1 !

summary: after tending to neglected needs, it takes 5 words to turn the tables. notes: nsfw, scissoring, oral sex, (r!receiving) fingering, (r! receiving) slight dacryphilia, a bit of hair pulling, softdom!abby, sub!reader. wc: 2,793 | tags: none

read pt 1 of " i need you " here!

moments prior,

abby’s braid slid graciously past her shoulder as she pulled away from your short lived embraced, already missing the warmth of her sun kissed skin. it seemed like she was in a hurry, scurrying out of the gym in the blink of an eye. as you took a moment to gather yourself, you realised that she’d left her bottle behind, and her bench remained uncleaned. you stood there dumbfounded, what could she have planned that was more important than gymnasium hygiene? after all, it was her that taught all you know.

when you were nothing but a baby wolf, abby took notice of you as a new recruit and instantly saw potential in you, taking you under her wing and training you like hell to fulfil your true abilities. although you were nowhere near as burly or as experienced in combat as her, you were quite good with weaponry and crafting, as well as adapting to your surroundings, making do with what you had on you during critical times.

she calls you ‘the scavenger’ when you were not present. it was her unique way of honouring how far you’d come since joining the WLF, how she paved the way for the indestructible soldier she firmly believes you’ll grow up to be one day. it’s also just her adorable little nickname for you that she beckons nobody uses in her place.

she has the upmost faith in you. growing closer with each patrol, each gym session, and sometimes just casually hanging about the FOB or at each others rooms. your friendship was something others envied; it was pure, full of trust and built upon mutual respect. but those closest to you knew it meant more than what first meets the eye.

abby was out of sight in the blink of an eye, you look around in a suspicious daze, trying to follow her whereabouts. she was quick, but not quicker than you.

you had a long-overdue session to finish, but abby looked relatively… uneasy. something was wrong, and you could feel it. the line between instincts and curiosity began to blur as your feet developed a mind of their own, your duffel bag and towel long gone as you’d already turned the corner outside the gymnasium.

maybe you were overreacting, maybe it was overkill to automatically assume the worst was happening to her. but if something was really up with abby, you wouldn’t live it down if you didn’t initiate help.

the look on abby’s face as you stared at her through the firmly rimmed glass, her beautifully arched eyebrows furrowing only ever illuminating her intense eyes — a million thoughts a minute ran through your mind, instinctively charging for two heavy silver doors and up a random stairwell. you could smell the scent of pine and sweat — that was definitely abby.

all reasoning for your unexplainable shenanigans flew out the window as you approached abby’s room, a series of shuffles followed by a supposed muffled voice echoed from the opposite side.

your hand hesitantly reached up to knock, only to realise the door was never locked to begin with. abby could never be that careless, — maybe manny, but regardless — she would sometimes recall times where she’d have to remind him to lock up before leaving during your sessions at the gym. she’d never make a mistake she so harshly scolded people for.

your face inches closer to the door, the cool solid wood sending a kiss of shivers across your exposed shoulders as it welcomingly swayed open.

with each step, the unintelligible noises grew much clearer, and it was becoming more palpable as to what that was entailing.

you’re heart only dropped to your gut at the sound of your name, uttered by a helpless, whining mess.

“please… please.”

the door conditionally, and gently swayed closed on its own behind you, a little clck locking the door in full as you took a couple steps closer. was this a figment of your twisted imagination? the soft whimpers and subsequent cries of your name begged to differ. it was no secret now. abby had a thing for you. you were almost too afraid to move as each whine only grew more vehement.

with a couple more stalled footsteps, you froze at the sight of abby, completely ruining herself at the fate of her own hand.

your eyes widened instantly, the warm air prickling your eyes as would salt water. seeing her all ruined over the thought of you was enough to lift your hands over your mouth in keen disbelief.

you attempted to gather yourself, debating whether or not confronting her on this was the best idea — but no normal person would just walk away and forget this ever happened — forgetting the image of abby anderson, issac’s top scar killer, ramming her slick-covered fingers inside her wet cunt all while repeating your name under a dumbed spell? it’s not something that can just leave your mind at the drop of a hat. it certainly wouldn’t later, neither.

while lost in your thoughts, your tense arms dropped to your sides as your feet followed closer, the sound of your boots shuffling against the smooth concrete floor not catching her attention,

“abby?”

you watched as her oceanic eyes shot open, the abby you once believed would simply chuckle and brush off the idea of this, now scurried to find something, anything to cover her herculean figure, freckled arms still just poking out the sides.

it took more than an ounce of self control to not let yourself run wild at the fact that the abby anderson had a rather strong fancy for you, not to mention she was fucking herself to the thought of you.

as your initial astonishment subsided, your body beamed with want. seeing abby flushed and heated clouded your acclaimed critical thinking.

“…can i have a turn?” slipped from your lips after tending to abby’s own neglected desires.

and here you were, moments passing almost at the speed of light. you laid flat on your back, tits perked up from the arch of your back with abby towered over you. her estranged braid slid off her shoulder with her eyes staring you down. your neck generously splayed with bruises and bite-marks, only reminding you that she’s been wanting this for god knows how long. unbeknownst to her, you did too, you just never believed you’d live to ever experience it.

her hand lightly grazed over your tit, meticulously attending to your swollen nipple. her thumb teased at it, rubbing the area in circles to provoke a much anticipated and equally expected reaction. with her hand on your chest and her lips returning to attack your already purpled skin, you stifled a whine, bottom lip bit between your teeth. she kissed along your throat, from the point of your jaw to the crook of your neck.

she continued toying with your body as her tongue traversed to your waist, laying another round of sloppy kisses to your hip bones and abdomen.

it was like your skin grew ten times more tender whilst under her touch, each breath of hers against your skin feeling like a gentle tickle, accompanied by her large and surprisingly delicate hands palming your tits, it was growing to be too much, too much being your style, anyways.

her hand left your chest to firmly grip onto your hips, pulling you closer to her lap. she took her already soaked fingers, prodding at your pussy like you’d done previously. your breaths grew shakier with each flick of your clit.

her eyes returned to that intense, fiercely glare from back at the gym, so that’s why she was so concentrated, or rather in her own dreamland.

her tongue laid a generous coat of saliva along her lips, staring at your pussy like the starved woman she was. for how long she’d ached for this, you had no clue. this was bound to be a moment to remember.

your cunts were practically hugging each other, the feeling of being so close to her pussy only added fuel to the fire that gleamed in your core. the longer abby stared, just taking in your breathtaking body, the stronger the feeling of being exposed grew.

her head dives below your eye view, feeling her nose bump at your clit. she savours it, her tongue peeling out at an antagonisingly slow pace as she glares at you through her arched brows. she could taste it all, her juices mixed with yours..

your hand gently took rest within her blonde locks, hooking into the back of her braid.

“abby,”

you huffed, sounding more like a plead than anything. with each soft, trembling breath, she’d drag her tongue along your cunt in sync.

her face would dig further into you, arms slithering to wrap themselves around your thighs. even if you begged for her to slow down, your needy hole that clenched around nothing, desperate to be touched, told her otherwise.

abby would stare at you longingly, finally able to die happy between your tensing thighs as she rapidly swabbed your clit with your tongue, dragging it along in circles and the likes.

your body jerked at the sudden change in pace, back arching instinctively off the bed. the whole lower half of your body fired up, tingly and numb. her muffled grunts sent you haywire, violently gripping onto her hair. she was like a leech that wouldn’t let go, sucking and lapping around that sweet spot like her life depended on it.

“stop squirming.” abby would demand as she shoved your hips back onto the mattress, not once detaching herself from you.

you could barely comprehend anything she’d say as she was practically suffocating herself between your thighs, and you’d both be lying if you said you didn’t love it.

abby teased your cunt with her fingers, carefully slipping her thick digits inside of you. your legs squeezed around her head at the sensation of feeling so full. her fingers, let alone hands, were thicker than yours. and they felt much more fulfilling.

your moans would blend harmoniously, both equally experiencing pleasure from the other as you climbed the ladder of your climax.

abby’s suppressed grunts would only ring through your ears. where was the abby that was so shamelessly call out your name moments ago?

your grip on her hair tightened, practically dragging her face along your cunt to accumulate as much friction as your body desired. her fingers would work wonders, unforgivingly pumping in and out of you as her tongue would rub against your clit. each time she would flick against it you’d jolt, back arched with a shy hand over your mouth.

in a matter of seconds, abby had pulled away — both her tongue and fingers. just as you were about to reach the peak, you’d tumble down with your high dropping in seconds.

“wh.. why’d you stop?” you breathed out, tears that rimmed your eyes beginning to dissipate.

as if abby could read your thoughts, she placed a leg over yours, dragging your helpless body closer to her. your cunts were mere centimetres apart, the slick that built up from your pleasure mixing with hers.

“wanted to rile you up..” she muttered, her beautifully eager smile spreading from ear to ear as she strategically began kneading her pussy against yours. abby let out a stifled whimper, her perfectly toned arms pulling your leg almost over her shoulder.

you whined as she slowly dragged her pussy back and forth. the only thing ruminating through your mind in the moment was how you wished you’d done this sooner. way sooner. if given the opportunity any earlier, you’d have jumped at it like an animal in heat.

tears generously coated your plump cheeks as abby picked up the pace, she muttered curses under her breath with each drag of her swollen cunt. it was evident she was close, her arms would needily latch onto yours in an attempt to pull you closer than you already were.

the sounds of timid whines and skin slapping echoed through the room. you hoped that nobody would mention a peculiar series of moans to you or abby the next day. but all you could focus on was her slick engulfed thighs, her chest and the hickeys that’d covered her tits. her neck that was equally as bruised, and her face that contorted into a smile once she noticed you were staring.

“this feel good?” she asks, a sudden grunt spilling from her lips a second after.

all you could do was nod. you were afraid once you spoke, you wouldn’t be able to stop. abby, abby, abby, abby, was all you could think of. how strong she was and how easily she could throw you around if she wanted to, how easily you could tug on her braid while she fucked you dumb. it drove you insane how she wanted you and nobody else. she fucked herself to the thought of you and nobody else.

she disapprovingly shook her head, slapping your thigh playfully.

“mm mm, i don’t take nods, use that pretty mouth,” abby grinned, her cunt grinding viciously fast against your own. you whined dumbly, the pleasure overpowering your body. you felt numbing tingles along each cell of your body.

you whined shamelessly loud, “it feels.. so good.” abby���s face enlightened, her hips picking up pace from your undying cooperation. anything for her to keep going.

she squeezed a handful of your thigh and massaged it, letting out her pent up urges that she was only able to let out now.

you dumbly mumbled a bunch of nonsense yes’, keep going’s and abby’s, initially climbing the tower of climax yet again. and abby was, too. as much as she tried to hide it, nothing could excuse how her hips would dig into your abdomen from how quick she practically humped your cunt.

abby held your thighs close to her, gaining the upper hand in creating more friction. her clit would bump against yours almost ever second. both your whines enveloped the air around you as the coil inside you snapped, your pleasure releasing out into a white pool underneath you.

but abby was far from finished.

she pulled your hips closer, with pussies rubbing against each other and whines echoing through the walls. you wouldn’t doubt for a second that someone could hear you.

with more than a couple grunts and calls for your name, abby came down from her own high, her hips faulting and slowly grudging to a stop.

you both panted relentlessly. you swore if she kept going you would’ve came a second time at the snap of a finger.

trying to regain your breaths, abby lets out a chuckle.

she doesn’t say anything, but she shakily pulls herself off of you, propping herself up by her elbow next to you.

a sudden wave of embarrassment washed over you as the reality of both your actions settled in. there was no hiding your attraction to one another now, none of this would’ve happened otherwise.

the never ending pining, hanging out one on one every chance you got and saying it was ‘just to train you’. you don’t know why you were surprised at the fact that abby would think about these things behind closed, or more so unlocked doors.

“..so?” abby’s voice was soft and meek, her hand fidgeting alongside her waist as her head rested on her other hand.

you hesitantly locked eyes with her, your previous shyness fading away as she planted a kiss to your forehead. something as cheesy and cute as a forehead kiss was enough to make you blush, subsiding all the things you both just did.

“..that was better than i expected.” you finally replied. abby’s eyebrow quirked, head tilting to the side.

“oh, so you thought it’d be bad?” she kids in a sly tone, that familiar smile returning once more.

you playfully punched her arm in response, the both of you knowing in reality, it felt like heaven on earth.

“does it look like it was bad?” you poke back, pointing to all the hickeys and bite marks along both your bodies.

only now did you realise how much of a mess you made. there was cum all over the bedsheets, saliva all over your cunts and what not — this place was really overdue for a cleanup.

you chuckle as you examine the aftermath.

“we should clean up..”

“we?” abby questions.

“i don’t mind, i made it too, no?”

abby couldn’t argue with that. she sighs, pulling you up and off the bed so you could both clean up. not without peppering your body with kisses first.

[cherryredstars]

hello can I request a reader being from 1610 Miles universe and she feels left behind by him since all he can do is like Gwen, so somehow she ends up in 42 Miles universe and they hit it off.

Pairings: Miles-42 x gn!reader

Warnings: Fluff, Slight Angst?, Reminder: READER AND MILES ARE MINORS!

A/N: Hello! Of course you can!

Unedited

It's the same just... different.

It seems like home, smells and feels like it. But something in your gut tells you it isn't. Your gut screams that something is wrong, that something is missing. Your mind just can't prove it. Not yet, anyways.

You're not sure how you got here, how you can be asleep in one place and wake up in another without ever moving. Maybe it's some sort of fever dream, one of those insanely vivid ones that leave you yearning when you wake up. You're sure it has to be. How else would you explain this.

Your heart beats widely for the boy in front of you, even though your mind rations that it isn't really him. This isn't your Miles (and some cruel part of your mind sneers that he wasn't yours to begin with). This is someone else, something else. But he looks and feels like Miles. He speaks and acts like him. He has the same lopsided smile, same deep eyes that draw you in, the same carefree yet playful tint to his words. The only thing that differentiates him from the real Miles is his hair.

Two thick braids run down his scalp, containing his usually natural afro. They look good on him, like they're made for him. Now that you've seen them on him, imagining his hair in any other hairstyle feels wrong. There is something so complementary about this simple style on this specific Miles, and your gut tells you it's because this Miles has something that yours lacks.

For example, that look in his eyes. It isn't very unique to this Miles, because your Miles has that same tell-tale shine in his eyes too. But it's not for you, it's for Gwen. The girl who up and left one day but left some remnants behind that Miles clings to like a lifeline. That particular glossy sheen that envelopes his pupils when he talks about her, that rise of color that highlights his cheeks when you find him drawing her silhouette over and over. But this Miles- the one standing in front of you- is looking at you with those eyes and blushed cheeks. He's looking at you the way you wished Miles would.

He's tripping over himself, sputtering on his words as he tries to pull a faux illusion of calm. One so horrible and see through that you can't help but laugh, causing his eyes to widen and his collar to feel tight around his neck. He can feel the heat of his blush forming perspiration on the nape of his neck, the pounding of his heart sounding like it's shaking the whole space. He reminds you of a puppy, instantly fascinated with the new things dangling in his line of sight.

He opens his mouth and closes it, the words forming a ball in his throat. His eyes scan you as he tries to gather the words. He feels like he's in kindergarten again, trying to collect the numerous cards of words and trying to piece them together to find something that makes sense. In the end, he fails, the meaning of what they all mean- all these nouns and verbs and adjectives- escaping him until his mind locks onto the only word he really knows.

"Pretty."

Breathless and intrigued. You smile, a warmth flooding your face and your heart singing. This may not be your Miles, but he's the Miles that wants to be. The Miles without a Gwen. The Miles who makes you feel like you're not someone's second choice. This Miles who looks at you like you're the stars in the night sky. This Miles is the one that was made for you.

You only fear that you'll wake up from this dream too soon.

[ma-yawntu]

mine, all mine. ii.

chapter two: paradise

pairing: neteyam x female!metkayina!reader

summary: As a punishment, your parents decided you and your siblings would have to teach the forest Na'vi the way of water; you weren't sure why he got under your skin so much.

word count: 4.0k

warnings: mentions of a blade, parental scolding, one swear, idk it's cute, NO USE OF Y/N

now playing... saturn by sza

chapter one

“I am here!” The attention of the entire Metkayina clan seemed to snap to the source of the declaration, Neteyam and his family doing the same. The crowd parted for you, a telltale sign of the status you held in the clan. You were clearly the oldest child of the Tsahik and the Olo’eyktan, the spitting image of your mother and sister. But there was something different about you; the way you held yourself and took every step with such certainty. You were intimidating, not as much as your terrifying mother, but just from looking at you, Neteyam could tell you weren’t to be pissed off.

And it was at this point that Neteyam was so utterly sure he had never seen a more beautiful woman in his life. Sure, there were a lot of pretty Omatikayan girls, but he was always so preoccupied with learning to plan hunting parties and raids that he never had time for any of that stuff– not that he was ever really interested in the first place, but you– you were the picture of beauty. You were soaking wet, your hair a total mess but honestly, it fit you. He peered around his father to get a better look at you, trying to be subtle about it. You had delicate intricate tattoos similar to your mother’s on both of your ribs, disappearing beneath the woven and beaded material of your top. 

Lo’ak caught his brother’s staring, trying to suppress a grin as he followed his brother’s gaze to you. The two brothers clearly had a type. Lo’ak let out a small laugh, hiding it with a harsh intake of breath through his nose. Neteyam looked at his brother with an unimpressed expression, swatting his arm to get him to shut up and behave. His tail swished behind him anxiously as you peered at him and his family curiously, studying the unique appearance of the forest Na’vi. 

Neteyam found he couldn’t take his eyes off you, watching the gentle sway of your tail in rhythm with your hips as you walked. Your hair dried remarkably fast, small ringlets of hair framing your face from where they fell out of your messy braids. The stark contrast between you and your sister was staggering. Your sister was so well-kept, her braids looking as if they were redone regularly while the rest of her hair was out in perfect curls down her back. 

But you; you had a freedom about you, your hair was loose and curly with messy and loose braids keeping the hair out of your face. Small pearl beads and coloured twine were braided through your hair, and you seemed so carefree and fun. Neteyam felt his eyes unable to let you go, fascinated by your mere presence. He felt somewhat excited knowing you were going to be teaching them how to be reef Na’vi– well, you and your siblings.

“Mother,” you greeted, bowing your head as you always did when you greeted your parents. You moved further into the healing marui, becoming acutely aware of your mother’s stern gaze upon you. Tsireya trailed behind you and you prayed your mother wouldn’t send her away to tear you a new one about your disappearance off the island. 

“Tsireya,” Ronal said sternly. The two of you felt your shoulders stiffen, ears pinning back at your mother’s commanding voice and presence. Tsireya let out a nervous breath, giving your mother a tight-lipped smile.

Tsireya turned to look at Ronal, knowing what was coming. “Mother?”

“I wish to speak with your sister.” That was enough said for Tsireya to nod her head, give you an apologetic smile and scamper out of the healing marui. Ronal waited for her youngest child to leave before she dropped the healing salve she was working on and gave you a stern look. 

“Mother, I–” you started with a shake of your head.

Your mother held up her hand, “you do not speak,” she raised her voice. You curled in on yourself, bowing your head in shame– though you were more upset that you had been caught. “Where were you this morning? What keeps your attention so occupied that you disappear? Ignore your duties as the tsakarem?”

“I was hunting outside the reef,” you quickly said, your voice meek under your mother’s intense gaze. While going outside the reef wasn’t exactly forbidden, it was only meant for hunting parties and experienced hunters– not the daughter of the Tsahik and Olo’eyktan. 

Your mother didn’t seem to believe you, her harsh glare boring into you as you stared at the ground, fiddling with your fingers as your tail swished anxiously. She stared at you for a moment longer before shaking her head with a sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose as she turned her back to you. You raised your head, watching your mother pace. 

“You will teach those forest children our ways, ‘ite,” your mother said authoritatively. “Every morning; I expect you to be punctual.”

You wanted to protest, mornings training with Teyoa were the one thing you looked forward to, a reprieve from the endless duties you were plagued by. But now your mornings would be occupied by the forest Na’vi and their childlike abilities when it came to living among the reef Na’vi. “Mother–” 

“I have spoken,” she interrupted, her voice slightly raised as she spun to look at you. You knew better than to argue with your mother. Your father was a little softer than her; he was always weak for his daughters and you were able to sway him occasionally. But your mother, she was a force to be reckoned with and you undoubtedly got your rebellion from her. You wanted to make your parents proud, live up to their expectations and be the perfect daughter– but you held so much passion and fire inside you with nowhere to go. You wanted to hunt, be a warrior, provide for and protect the clan. But your parents did not see that. They did not see you. 

“Can I go?” You muttered, eyes glancing at anything but your mother as you bit the inside of your cheek, trying to stifle yourself. Ronal sighed, closing her eyes for a moment before she looked at you again, nodding her head toward the opening of the marui. 

You didn’t stay a second longer, making your way out as you tried to breathe through your anger. It was not the Sully’s fault for seeking uturu, but you did not want to be a babysitter to their four children– that hardly seemed fair. You brushed past the opening of the marui, your eyes almost instantly rolling when you saw your brother Ao’nung and his friends.

“In trouble again, sister?” Ao’nung teased with an amused grin.

“Being a nuisance again, little brother?” You questioned, your shoulder knocking with his as you pushed past him, going nowhere in particular just away from him. When you were younger, your brother used to be somewhat of a crybaby– always sticking to your mother’s side and pestering you, his big sister, to play with him, braid his hair or hold his hand. Now that he was grown; become a man– he was a pain in your ass at the best of times, always sticking his nose in your business. 

“You know,” Ao’nung started, following behind you with Roxto and his other friends on his tail.

Here we go, you thought, rolling your eyes once again. Your brother liked to pick a fight and bicker with other young Metkayina. He never picked on your little sister, she was soft and sweet, but you and your brother shared the similarity of being competitive, always picking on each other. 

“I have always wondered what else you manage to get away with,” he teased with a laugh. “Considering you’re always disappearing and blatantly lying to our parents who are–” he turned to his friends, “–none the wiser!”

You spun on your heel quickly, “must you pester me? Surely you could be doing something more productive with your time instead of talking out of your ass,” you replied sternly, giving him an unimpressed and slightly annoyed glare. Your brother stayed quiet for a moment and you gave him a sarcastic smile, “thought so.”

You began to walk away when your brother yelled an insult from behind you, “skxawng!”

“Vonvä!” You yelled back just as childishly, turning a few heads. 

You found yourself on the secluded part of the beach, having retrieved your heavy bow from its hiding place beneath the rocks in the reef. You sat in the sand, carving the details of your spirit sister’s tattoos into the wood of your bow. Teyoa always told you warriors made their weapons their own– and you thought what better to make it your own than the tattoos of your spirit sister Nanti. You had studied her markings so many times during her visits that you could easily picture them in your mind. 

“What are you doing?” You almost lept out of your skin at the sound of a child’s voice. Her voice was high and she began to giggle when you jumped in surprise. You turned to face her– it was the youngest forest Na’vi– Tuk was her name. How did she find you? Who was letting her wander this far away from the village?

“Should you not be with your family?” You questioned with a grin, knowing you were equally as curious at her age. Tuk shrugged, her tail swaying behind her as she walked down the beach, taking a seat beside you to look at your bow. 

“A bow!” She beamed, “I didn’t know reef people use bows,” Tuk said, looking up at you curiously. 

“They don’t,” you replied before bringing your finger to press to your lips, “it’s a secret,” you whispered.

“Oh, I’m good at keeping secrets,” Tuk replied with a stern nod. 

“Well, that is very good to know,” you said with a smile, continuing to carve small details into the wood with your worn blade. Tuk watched you with curious golden eyes, her tail tapping against the wet sand. You carved one more small detail into the edge, refining the design before holding it up for the two of you to inspect. “What do you think, Tuk?”

“I like it!” the little Na’vi smiled, her toothy grin making your heart swell. You may be hard-headed and rebellious at times but you were always notably good with children– the little Metkayina children were always drawn to you, adorning your hair in handmade beads, giving you bracelets and braiding your hair messily whenever you went to visit the children learning to weave or prepare food. 

“What are you doing all the way out here, little Tuk?” You asked again, peering at the girl with a curious eye. 

“I wanted to explore,” Tuk replied, drawing with her finger in the sand. 

“Well, you better keep this place a secret, too. I don’t want anybody else knowing about it,” you said softly, “but I like you, so you can stay.”

Tuk beamed at your words before nodding her head with a smile, “I won’t tell anyone!” She drew a cross over her heart. You gave her a questioning look and she quickly explained, “my dad said it means to promise.”

“How strange,” you giggled.

“My dad used to be one of the Sky People, you know,” Tuk said, “he says a lot of funny stuff.”

You had heard the stories of the man who became a Na’vi, born of the Sky People but learned the ways of the people. The same man who was Toruk Makto– the very story you were obsessed with as a child. You stood up from the sand, picking your bow up before reaching your hand out toward Tuk.

“Come,” you said softly, “your family may start to worry.”

Tuk stood up, wiping the sand off her legs before grabbing your hand, happily skipping along beside you as you guided her through the mangroves back toward the village. You stashed your bow in the nook of a tree, Tuk talking your ear off the whole journey back. You let her ramble on, finding it endearing how she felt comfortable enough to talk to you. She talked about her life back in the forest and how much she missed it already, she talked about her journey across the sea and about her family’s ikrans. You happily hummed along, replying enthusiastically with your own stories and comments. 

Tuk asked you a lot of questions about your clan as her little fingers toyed with the songcord wrapped around your wrist. She asked you about the different beads you had earned, the most recent earned from passing your Iknimaya and getting your first tattoos. She also asked you about the meaning of your tattoos, telling you how much she admired them, which you thought was adorable. 

“Did they hurt?” she asked curiously.

“I didn’t think so. Though, many of the men say they are very painful,” you replied with a small laugh.

Just as you arrived on the outskirts of the village, you saw Tuk’s oldest brother Neteyam frantically looking around as he called for his sister, “Tuk! Tuk, this isn’t funny!” You hadn’t heard him speak until that moment, he had a slight accent to his voice, probably due to the differing dialects between the forest and reef Na’vi. 

“I told you you would worry your family, little Tuk,” you said matter-of-factly, Tuk’s hand still squeezing your own.

“I just wanted to look around, Neteyam always gets so worried,” she sighed, pulling you toward the edge of the mangrove forest. Neteyam spun around at the sound of leaves and branches rustling, relief flooding his body at the sight of his little sister. But he soon felt his shoulders tense again at the sight of you. You seemed to move in slow motion as you moved some of your hair over your shoulder, glancing down at Tuk with a gentle smile. 

“Tuk,” he sighed with relief, quickly walking toward his sister and crouching down in front of her to inspect her for injuries.

“I’m fiiiine,” Tuk whined as Neteyam pulled on her arms, spinning her around to inspect her back and arms. Tuk swatted at her brother and you covered your mouth as you laughed, the scene reminding you of you and your siblings when you were younger.

Neteyam’s golden eyes looked up at you as you laughed softly, the sound like wonderful music to his ears. He found that his eyes were lingering on you for a little too long and he quickly stood up, clearing his throat, “thank you for finding my sister.”

“He speaks,” you teased, tilting your head at him. 

Neteyam let out a huff of a laugh, “I apologise,” he said.

“Only teasing, forest boy,” you smiled teasingly before turning your attention back to Tuk, crouching down to her eye level. “Now, little Tuk, don’t go wandering off again,” you grabbed her hand gently and she listened to you intently, “remember to keep our little secret place to yourself,” you whispered, but you knew Neteyam heard you. 

“Promise,” Tuk whispered back with a little nod.

You stood back up, glancing at Neteyam for a moment before brushing past him to return to the village, leaving him to revel in the scent of your hair. It smelled like sweet fruits and sea water, a perfect mix in his opinion. 

“Why are you staring at her?” Tuk asked comically loud, staring between you and her brother. You heard her words and laughed to yourself, peering over your shoulder at Neteyam who seemed utterly embarrassed by being caught and called out by his kid sister.

“Thanks for that, Tuk,” he replied with a sigh, quickly grabbing her hand and pulling her back toward their family’s marui. 

Being beneath the water was always where you felt most as home. Though it was fitting you felt that way considering your entire body was designed to thrive in the water. You enjoyed the silence and solitude of being beneath the waves, curious eyes exploring the reef and gathering shells and various plants for your mother’s salves. You worked quickly to gather plants into your woven bag, various creatures brushing past your arms and legs as you worked. 

The sound of the surface breaking above you caught your ear and you turned to see your sister waving at you happily as she swam toward you, Ao’nung and Roxto not far behind her. You moved the sash of your woven bag over your shoulder, quickly signing at your sister.

‘Teaching the forest Na’vi?’ you signed, your eyes glancing toward the surface where the three siblings treaded water in a rather unorthodox way. You peered back and watched as Kiri swam around happily watching the creatures in the reef.

‘You must join us, sister,’ Tsireya signed back. You frowned at her, shaking your head. She gave you a pleading look, ‘you are a good teacher.’

‘I don’t want to babysit,’ you signed.

‘They are trying,’ Tsireya frowned at your words, signing back quickly.

You looked up at them for a moment, noticing how all of them had their heads underwater, watching you sign with your sister. Your eyes moved to Tuk who quickly waved at you. You let some bubbles out of your mouth, the little pockets of air bobbing to the surface, ‘fine.’

Tsireya smiled happily, squeezing your hand tightly before she began swimming to the surface. You watched as Roxto and Ao’nung signed to each other, making fun of the forest Na’vi’s diving abilities. You rolled your eyes at them before following your sister to the surface.

“You guys are too fast, wait for us!” Tuk whined, rubbing her eyes. You tilted your head at the little Na’vi resting your hand on her shoulder.

“It is okay, Tuk. We will go slow,” you smiled, moving one of her braids out of her face. Ao’nung and Roxto suddenly surfaced behind you.

“You guys are not good divers,” Ao’nung snickered, “may be good at swinging through trees but–”

You quickly swatted the back of your brother’s head, splashing him in the process as Roxto laughed, “you would be wise to shut your mouth, brother.” Ao’nung made a face at you, rolling his eyes.

“We don’t speak this–” Neteyam vaguely gestured with his hands, “–finger talk. We don’t know what you’re saying.”

Tsireya looked at you for a moment, “we will teach you, won’t we?” She looked at you again with a pleading smile.

You sighed and rolled your eyes, “yes, we will teach you,” you nodded. “But first, if you want to swim with us, you must learn to do it properly.”

“We are swimming properly,” Lo’ak replied.

You chuckled softly, “I wouldn’t call flailing your arms about like that, swimming,” you replied. “Move with the water, use your arms like this–” you motioned with your hands as the three Sully siblings listened intently. 

“Come,” Tsireya smiled, “we will move slow.”

You spent most of the afternoon showing the siblings how to swim, Tuk occasionally reaching for your hand so you could swing her forward through the water, the little Na’vi finding so much joy in speeding so fast through the water. You watched as Neteyam seemed to find it a little harder to adjust to swimming, finding it more frustrating than anything. 

You sympathised with them, understanding it must be hard to adjust to a new environment which their bodies were not adapted to. Tsireya swam with Lo’ak slowing down so he could keep up with her and you felt a responsibility to check on Neteyam.

“Are you alright?” You asked, surfacing just behind Neteyam. He turned to look at you, seeming slightly tired from all the swimming you had been doing. 

“I’m fine,” he replied with a sigh, “I just can’t seem to get the breathing part.”

“It’s okay,” you said, sort of hating how genuine you sounded to your own ears, “I will show you.”

“We breathe from here,” you pressed your hands flat against your chest and stomach, sitting in front of Neteyam. He watched you closely as you showed him how to breathe, your sister and Roxto showing Kiri and Lo’ak not far from you. Tsireya watched you teach Neteyam one on one, grinning softly to herself which you quickly rolled your eyes to. 

You glanced at Neteyam but he was already looking at you, his golden eyes were rather beautiful you thought, though you would never tell a soul. You cleared your throat and he quickly snapped back to reality, “sorry, sorry.”

“From here,” you repeated, taking in a deep breath to fill your chest and stomach, “in and out.”

He did the same, fixing his posture to copy your actions. He wasn’t able to take in as much air as you, but it was a good start.

“You must slow your heart,” you said softly, “focus on your breath.”

“Right,” Neteyam muttered. You scooted forward slightly, reaching your hands out to press on Neteyam’s stomach and chest.

“Breathe in,” you breathed in with him before nodding your head, “and out.” You noticed his heart beating rapidly under your palm, a smile pulling at your lips, “Neteyam, your heart is fast. You must focus, try to slow it down.”

“Yeah, right…” Neteyam quickly nodded at your words, “I’m sorry.” He was so glad there was no one else around to hear what you said, feeling slightly embarrassed that he’d been caught.

Okay, maybe your sister was on to something. He was a little cute. 

“I want you to keep practising,” you said, pulling your hands off his body, “you must learn to breathe if you want to keep up with us.”

“Right,” he muttered before he looked at you curiously “...will you still be teaching us?”

You tried to suppress a smile, “yes, it’s my punishment.”

“Punishment?” Neteyam asked curiously, “we can’t be that bad.”

You laughed softly, “It is not like that, forest boy,” you stood up, brushing some of your hair over your shoulders as you walked back toward the village. 

“Well, what did you do to earn such a punishment?” Neteyam asked, running to catch up with you, almost slipping on the wet rocks. 

“You like to ask questions,” you said.

“Just curious about you is all,” Neteyam shrugged.

“About me?” You turned to him with a curious look. You noticed how Neteyam towered over you, so did your brother but Neteyam staggeringly so. You thought it must be because forest Na’vi were lean and tall by nature. 

“Is that not allowed?” He asked, trying to suppress a grin as he tilted his head at you.

You watched him for a moment, wondering if you should toy with him or tell the truth, you decided the former would be more fun. “I was sneaking out,” you said with a shrug before turning on your heel, making your way back toward the village.

“Sneaking out? What for?” He asked through a chuckle. 

“I think that’s enough information for now,” you replied.

“But I wish to know more about you,” Neteyam called behind you, struggling to keep up with you. You had walked across these slippery rocks more times than you could count– Neteyam not so much. “Oh, shit!” 

You heard a loud splash, whipping your head around to see that Neteyam had disappeared from behind you and slipped into the water, a mass of bubbles indicating where he had fallen. You stood for a moment, waiting for him to surface.

“Neteyam?” You called. No answer. Oh, no. “Neteyam!”

You quickly dove into the water, bubbles of air forming around you as you whipped your head around, looking for him. You swam down toward the reef, thinking he had hit his head and was sinking toward the bottom. You had fear written all over your face before you saw him, slowly swimming toward the surface. You let out a noise of annoyance before quickly rising to the surface.

“You scared me!” You scolded, splashing him with water as he laughed. 

“Those rocks are slippery,” Neteyam simply said.

“I thought you hurt yourself,” you frowned.

“And you came in to save me?” he grinned.

You stared at him with an unimpressed expression for a moment, “don’t flatter yourself.”

Neteyam could only laugh in response as you pulled yourself out of the water and back onto the rocks.

a/n: hope you like this one! let me know if you want me to continue with these two :)

[vrystalius]

Hello! May I request the hashira reaction to a child reader (6-7year) who's basically a yoriichi reincarnation? Like the hashira were struggling against an uppermoon, but reader interferred at a crucial moment and cut them down effortlessly with the hashira's own sword :] here comes the dilemma of how to proceed with a clearly abandoned child who's not a demon slayer yet easily managed to do what no hashira was able to do in centuries , not to mention their extremely young age. Thanks!

❕The hashira’s reaction to you as Yorichii’s reincarnation

You saving the hashira’s asses (with their own weapons!) as Yorichii’s child reincarnation.

Here’s my masterlist for the hashira.

Here’s my masterlist for the demons.

Note: Thank you for sending in a request! I hope I wrote it just the way you imagined and expected it. I think I struggled a little bit, but I you like it anyway, anon! <3 I’m thinking of making a part.2 with Giyu, Obanai, Mitsuri and Shinobu, but let’s see how this picks up first.

Pairing: Sanemi, Gyomei, Kyojuro, Tengen x gn!child!reader

💚 Sanemi Shinazugawa 💚

Sanemi was more impressed that he managed to fuck up this bad that he needed help from a frail child. He feels embarrassed. Embarrassment turn into humiliation, and that into rage. So, Sanemi did what he doest best. Yell and throw around insults.

“What the fuck were you thinking, kid? You could’ve fucking died! How can you even lift my katana?? Your arm is thinner than my damn finger!!”

But deep down, he’s kind of impressed. How did you even manage to do that? You look starved and dirty, as if homeless or neglected. Your yukata was stained and old, and seemingly the only article of clothing you have, obvious by the lack of shoes and socks. Geez, you’ll get sick like that, Sanemi thinks.

But as Sanemi inspected you further (and snatching his katana out of your hands) he noticed some kind of mark on your forehead. Is this the demon slayer mark Muichiro and Mitsuri were talking about back then? That would explain where your energy and skill to kill a former Lower Moon came from. Sanemi also saw how dirty and filthy your hair was, but he could see the deep maroon colour and the red tips peeling through. If someone were to wash your hair, it would look beautiful. Maybe Sanemi could even braid it?

But this was something to think about later. You look like you’re gonna fall over and just die of dehydration or starvation at any moment, or just freeze to death on the spot. If he wants to or not, Sanemi has to take you in for the moment. He can bring you back to the estate and hand you over to Shinobu or something later.

Sanemi would pick you up, into his arms, and wrap his cropped haori around your fragile body to warm you up a little.

“Let’s grab something for you to eat and maybe some clean clothes m’kay? I’ll bring you somewhere safe. Here, I got some ohagi. Eat up, you’ll need the strength to walk. I won’t carry your ass forever.”

🤎 Gyomei Himejima 🤎

Gyomei likes being around children. They are innocent, fragile, weak and need to be protected. They lie, too, but Gyomei doesn’t take it to heart when they do. He never did. Children are children after all.

But when he met you, right after you simply beheaded Upper Moon Five while he struggled, Gyomei knew that you are not an ordinary child. You do not need protection, you are strong enough to take care of yourself, and he can sense the powerful aura you had. He never felt this strong of an aura before, ever. It was almost overwhelming to his heightened senses.

“You seem very strong for a child. Where did you learn all this skill?”

In the ranks of the hashira, no one besides Gyomei can wield his morningstar. It’s too unique and western-style of a weapon to be used by an ordinary slayer, if you ignore the heavy weight all together. It takes a lot of training to wield something like that.

With that being said, Gyomei was surprised to say the least when he heard how you swung his weapon with ease. He felt the heat it was radiating after you beheaded the demon. What kind of breathing were you using?

“You seem tired. How about I carry you back to my estate? It’s safe , and you can rest there. On our way there, we can talk about how you got this strong. Shall I carry you on my shoulders?”

❤️‍🔥 Kyojuro Rengoku ❤️‍🔥

(Let’s just imagine he never fought Akaza during the Muegen Train Arc)

Kyojuro was walking beside what’s left of the Lower Moon’s Muegen train, checking for any more survivors and passengers. Tanjiro, Nezuko, Zenitsu and Inouske were heading into the opposite direction to check the other half of the train, while Kyojuro inspected the head of the train (in hopes of finding his katana as well, wich he somehow lost).

That’s where he found you, buried underneath the rubble and remains of the train, luckily unscathed. Kyojuro was ecstatic to have found such a frail child like you in such a terrible situation.

“I’m glad I found you in time! Are you hurt? Hungry? Thirsty?”

But as Kyojuro inspected you, he recognised the yukata you were wearing. He could’ve swore that he saw someone similar flashing before his eyes, beheading the train with some kind of fiery technique. It wasn’t flame breathing, he would’ve recognised it immediately. It was more powerful, more bright. It resembled the power of the sun.

That’s when it hit him. Yes, it was indeed you who beheaded the Lower Moon! Your small stature, your aura. Kyojuro laughed loudly when he realised. You, a child, managed to defeat a Lower Moon! With his own sword as well! Even if you did snatch his katana when you had the chance to kill said demon, he forgave you. You saved them all after all.

He made a mental note to look through all the corps’ records, including the flame hashira archives his father Shinjuro keeps back in their home. Perhaps Kyojuro can find what kind of breathing technique you were using, in case you don’t know yourself.

Kyojuro took his haori off his uniform and wrapped you in it, lifting you off the ground and holding you close to his naturally heated body. You looked surprisingly neglected and starved, as if no one took care of you back home. If you even had a home.

“You did great defeating such a powerful Lower Moon! You should be proud of yourself! How about we share some bento boxes when we head back?”

(You ended up being forced to eat multiple bento boxes because Kyojuro was worried you might starve to death on him.)

🩷 Tengen Uzui 🩷

He is incredibly embarrassed. First, Tengen didn’t notice how Daki was not the real Upper Moon right away. Second, his hand gets sliced off clean. Third, he let his nichirin-blades get snatched by a child. And fourth, that said child managed to behead Gyutaro while that blonde kid and boar boy beheaded Daki. Tengen basically didn’t even do anything! He just let himself get poisoned and lost a hand, then just laid in dirt the rest of the fight. How unflashy and boring!

But he did notice the technique you used to behead the Gyutaro. It was fiery and bright, similar to his friend’s Kyojuro’s flire breathing, just that yours is much more powerful or something. Tengen made a mental note to ask his friend about the fire breathing techniques later.

“Hey kid, lend me a hand will ya?”

What a poor choice of words. He could tell that by your unimpressed expression, but you understood what he meant by that anyway. After giving him his blades back and lifting him off the ground, you helped him walk out of the rubble that was once the entertainment district. Tengen is surprised by your strength and that you’re even able to make him walk upright, but that surprise quickly turned into curiosity.

He noticed the red, flamey mark on your forehead and your dark, maroon hair. You looked very flashy, but neglected. You’re kinda dirty, too. Tengen thinks a little bit of make-up and a nice bath can make you look all flamboyant again! Oh, and yeah, he guesses you’re pretty strong too. But that’s beside the point for now.

Then, finally, Tengen was met with the lovely view of his wives.

“Lord Tengen!! You’re okay! We were so worried!! Waaahh!!”

“Be quiet, Suma! Can’t you see Tengen needs to rest?

“Who’s this little thing here? She looks so thin.”

“My new, flashy and flamboyant apprentice, Hina!”

💠

Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed! Thank you again for requesting, I hope I wrote about what you had in mind. I just got a request for Genya, so I’ll be working on that soon as well.

Anyways, make sure to EAT, SLEEP and DRINK enough!

Take care of yourselves. <3

[fraugwinska]

Follow up idea to the person who suggested that lovely birthday doodle request,, Reader who can draw proficiently as a hobby and often sketches folks at the hotel in their sketch book. Alastor is a bit offended that no matter what it seems as though he’s no where in this book, when they retire for the night he brings it up almost as if he’s jealous and they laugh at him. He’s upset because now he feels as though they are making fun of him until they retrieve another book and turns out they draw him in privacy (he’s so special he has his own book) It’s so cute too theres little heart doodles and them holding hands everywhere

Darling, how can I say no to 1) you *handheart* and 2) to such a cute pürompt? Make way, guys, gals and non-binary pals, here comes the fluff-queen!

❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️

Pictures of You

“ME NEXT! ME NEXT!” You tugged your sketchbook out of Niffty's small but surprisingly strong fingers. The little demon giggled and almost fell from your shoulder, making you laugh.

“Niff, any more doodles of you and I'd have to pay you royalties. Also, Angel asked first.”

You grinned, turning another page of the thick binder to an empty canvas and twirled the coal pen in your hand. Husk had just involuntarily changed his sleeping position from 'face in hands' to 'face on counter', groaning at the impact, so you wanted to start anew. Niffty resumed to braid your hair – you often let her just do what she wanted, she had a knack for it anyways – and huffed. “You only want to draw him because he can do impossible poses.” “Well, he is flexible.”

“Comes with the job, sweet cheeks.” Angel, who had entered through the door, grinned at you, taking his pink heart-shaped sunglasses off while he walked behind you, leaning over your shoulder. “Aw, toots, you really are talented, Husky looks like a snack there. Can I have that when 'ya done?”

“Have what, my effeminate fellow?” Angel jumped as Alastor materialized behind him without warning, releasing a startled 'Jesus Christ on a cracker!' while his lower set of arms clung onto your tensed shoulders. The radio demon laughed heartily, bending over slightly to look past Angel's head. He craned his neck and reached with his cane, forcing you to lean sideways so he could examine what you were drawing.

You flinched at the contact with the strangely warm metal, but didn't look up from the page. You only gripped the black coal tighter, feeling it beginning to crack. Alastor hummed in what sounded almost fond praise, giving a brief tap to Husk's shape on the paper.

"Marvelous! What a talent you have." he proclaimed. "Although I have to ask again, my dear, how come you never draw me? Surely I could..."

You lifted a finger, face scrunched up in concentration and shook your head, eyes firmly on the almost finished sketch. Alastor clicked his tongue in a displeased way, clawed fingers impatiently tapping the microphone at the end of his cane.

"Really, dearest. I have a great interest for-"

"Hold on!"

"-a unique idea of the possibilities-"

"Done!"

As you finished, you stretched your cramped hand, setting down the charcoal on the armrest of the red plush sofa and rubbing your fingers to get rid of the black stains. You ripped the paper out of the sketchbook and handed it to Angel, carefully avoiding Alastors burning eyes and ignoring the angry static pops sizzling on your skin.

"There you go, Ange. You can lock it in with a little coat of hairspray, otherwise it will smudge easily."

You hastily stood up, letting Niffty tumble down your back onto the sofa with a wild giggle while you quickly assembled your things. You saw Alastor open his mouth and interrupted whatever speech he might've wanted to deliver you, your heart racing and mouth unusually dry.

"Oh, would you look at the time, I promised Charlie to get laundry done by the evening, I better get going. Maybe another time, yeah? Okay, bye!"

You were already through the door by the time he had registered you leaving, mouth half-open and ready to protest against whatever injustice he felt you had done him. His eyebrow twitched slightly at your retreating figure, eyes flickering between the corner you disappeared around and Angel Dust, the latter laughing mockingly at the deer.

"Aw shucks, failing again, deer daddy? What is it now, the fifth time she blew 'ya off?"

"The seventh.", Niffty corrects him, scratching on the black spot where you had set the charcoal in between your work. Alastor gave her a sour expression, while Angel leaned back, eyeing the sketch of his subject of interest with lovingly.

"Maybe she took 'ya by heart, Smiles. Don't 'ya always say 'ya got a face for radio only?"

***

Alastor was fuming.

Everyone was in that damn book, everyone. And yet, he was nowhere in it to be found.

In his opinion he was far superior in beauty of aesthetics then, for example, Angel Dust, or Vaggie. Hell, Husk had even made an entry, and all he did was lay around and drink himself into oblivion. Why would you take the time to sketch these nobodies in detail instead of him? Was he that unimportant to you, did you deem him that unworthy? Or was this your subtle way of making fun of his appearance, his laughable predicament of being a predator in a prey body?

He thought he'd have been generous enough not to reprimand you, or destroy that damned book all together after all this time. It was your luck that he had developed a strange fondness of you. Alastor only ever bothered himself with a few souls since his arrival in hell, and his encounter with you was a happy coincidence indeed. You were so much less annoying, so much more quiet and respectful than most of the demons around him, with your charcoal pen behind your ear and a keen eye for beautiful things that you turned into artworks like it was your second nature.

And even though you've always seemed to take a liking to him, his patient questions for a sketch, a portrait or just anything of him was met by you with dismissiveness, awkward excuses or outright evading, only ever drawing other sinners, even the cursed piglet Angel called a pet. But never, never him.

This couldn't go on any longer. He would talk to you about it, and either you would draw him willingly or you would draw nothing at all.

Your room was located only three corridors down his own suite, right across of a broken down door. Despite the late hour you had left the door cracked open, music faintly streaming through it along the orange light of your desk lamp. Which meant you were still awake. Still working. Still drawing.

The door made no sound when he pushed it open, carefully peeking his head inside. He was right, your back was hunched over your desk, completely lost in your work while your voice hummed along with the little melody from the radio.

The radio he had gifted you. He snapped his fingers and the music screeched loudly before coming to a stop, the radio dying instantly and making you jump in your seat.

"JESUS!" You whipped your head around, clutching your heart. He gave his best charming smile, red eyes narrowing in on you.

"No dear, it's just me." he smiled maliciously and closed the door behind him, it clicking ominously shut. Locked. You laughed awkwardly, brushing a loose strand of hair out of your face and hastily closed the thick, black sketchbook on the desk shut, a different one than the one from before. A new one. Another cursed one without him in it, surely.

"Haha, thank satan, I'm not dressed to meet the son of god." you quibbed, avoiding his gaze and twirling your pencil, something you always did when you were nervous.

He didn't join into your joke, instead he walked over to your dresser, where the filled sketchbook from before laid. Open, showing a detailed drawing of Keekee stretching in front of the fireplace. The blasted cat was the last straw.

"Why," Alastor spoke sharply, barely registering his antlers sprouting in angry cracks, "are there any and every sinners and creatures depicted in that... doggone, ridiculous thing?".

His words were spat with so much anger he missed your scared and confused look when you pushed your chair back, almost tripping and scrambling to get away. "What? Alastor, I..."

He hit the book once, almost tearing the thick parchment. "And not one mention of me? You have no idea how utterly vexing and insulting it is to feel ignored, or rather unnoted! What did I do, oh do tell, dear, that makes you think of me so below you that you just outright forget my existence?!"

Again, he hit the book, feeling it starting to rip from the amount of pent up frustration tightening his grip. But it did feel good, immensely so, to take it out on the damn thing he would have shredded weeks ago, if you didn't enjoy it so much.

"N-Nothing, you really don't... you don't understand...", you laughed nervously, eyes too pleading, too soft for his liking, as if you mocked him or worse: Pitied him. The thought alone fueled his anger further.

"Then I advise you to make me understand, my darling.", he growled, shoes scratching on the wooden floors with each step as he neared you, pressing you against the desk. "Because otherwise, I have no inhibitions to incinerate every single one of these god damn..."

"I draw you all the time. In your own book."

You grabbed the sketch book from the desk and thrust it in his face, spouting more nonsense with teary eyes that went deaf through his ears, only glaring at the cover and then opening it, ready for anything.

Nothing. Nothing but him.

There was no mention of anyone else.

There was nothing but him. His face. Portraits, stills, sketches, whole sceneries, doodles even.

Pages and pages full of his own features, his eyes looking back at him, so carefully captured in coal lines that his head reeled.

There he was, walking in long strides through the lobby, hair perfect and suit straight, the drawing so detailed it could've been a photography. On the other side was a picture of him, his eyes narrowed, showing no emotion as he stared down at the hotel papers in his hand. The next page, he was captured in a fight with that buffoon Sir Pentious, his is mouth cracked in an evil smile, claws stretched and ready to snap the snakes' airship in half.

And ever in between those artworks: Little doodles, as if drawn with an absent mind, of him and you. Holding hands. Embracing each other. Laughing together. Gazing into each others eyes. Silly hearts all around them.

Alastor almost dropped the book and the shakily uttered your name, for once truly at a loss for words.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry Alastor...", he finally heard your muttering, voice trembling with tears. "I didn't know how... I was just... so... so embarrassed, and..."

Embarrassed. The absolute absurdity of it all.

Here he had been, worried you found him beneath the beauty you held in such esteem, wounded even so much as to bring out this unjustified anger. The fool he was. He was an idiot to have not considered the other possible explanations for your reticence.

Slowly, carefully, as if you'd spook and run should he move too fast, Alastor wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close, still holding the book safely in his hand, pressing it into your back. At his will, his shadow lifted a hand and turned the radio on once again, a low hum resounding from the speakers as the soothing, quiet music continued.

"Mon cœur, the unnecessary pain you caused us both. And yet, I'm the one who has to apologize.", he said with an honesty he rarely spoke with. "We're both, evidently, quite hopeless. No use in keeping these feelings and words unsaid any longer then, hm? Can you forgive this old fool?"

You stared at him bewildered, at a loss for words yourself, before a relieved smile cracked your worried frown. Shiny tear streaks were running over your reddening cheeks, he wiped them off your face with a soft swipe of his thumb.

"Of course... As long as I can continue drawing you." You chuckled and pushed your face into his chest, Alastor was more than certain to hide the flush of your cheeks. He chuckled, gripping the book in his hands tighter as he buried his nose in your hair. You smelled like paper, paint and charcoal. And underneath it all lingered the scent of something new, yet familiar. Something... very much like him.

"Draw the both of us like this to perfection, darling, and that would be a deal worth to agree on."

[vampsywrites]

II — i remember her hands, and the way the mountains looked.

Synopsis: In which the Sullys approach the mountain clan for sanctuary. The Olo'eykte agrees but proposes one condition: Toruk Makto's eldest son must be promised to her daughter. Surprisingly, instead of the solemn response one would expect, Neteyam agrees almost instantaneously.

Tags: Female! Mountain Na'vi! Reader, Arranged Marriage, Sun&Moon couple, Strangers to Lovers, Neteyam is whipped, Mentions of Jealousy&Possessiveness, Romantic tension, Neteyam wanting to impress his girl, Lo'ak having the time of his life teasing the shit out of Neteyam, Reader has that Tsahik rizz

Word Count: 2.8k | AO3 LINK

< PREV | SERIES MASTERLIST | NEXT >

With the village of the Iuva'ri clan now their new home, the Sullys followed you past open fields, their eyes wandering in amazement at the sights.

Everywhere they looked, the hustle and bustle of daily life surrounded them. Hunters could be seen hauling large beasts into the village, farmers had their hands deep in the earth as they worked to ensure a bountiful harvest, and weavers, with their deft hands, skillfully crafted intricate patterns into fabric.

Though the environment was not too different from what they were used to in the forest, it was still a significant change from the wild, cluttered jungle they had known all their life.

While his family was busy taking all of the clan in, Neteyam was fully focused on you. He watched in fascination as the village parted when you walked past, people practically throwing themselves aside to clear your path. From elders to children, they bowed in reverence and greeted you with warmth and admiration, recognizing you as their Tsahìk.

Through the walk, Neteyam also couldn't help but notice how your presence captured the attention of the young men and women around. Warriors, weavers, hunters – they all seemed to be drawn to you, stopping in their tracks with blushing cheeks as they exchanged hushed words. Their lingering gazes and subtle glances, their eyes which seemed to follow you like a predator stalking its prey, didn't escape Neteyam's watchful eyes.

As he observed this intense attention you garnered, a pang of possessiveness surged through his gut, and his tail lashed out in irritation.

Neteyam felt torn, battling with the internal struggle of feeling irrationally possessive. Deep down, he knew he had no right to be jealous. After all, he had no claim over you, and he had yet to truly earn your trust and affection.

The announcement of your courtship clearly took the clan by surprise. While some genuinely celebrated your happiness, others found it difficult to hide their envy. Evident by the glares sent his way from those who might have hoped to be in his place.

This scrutiny only served to intensify his emotions.

"This will be your home now," you called out, your voice calm and welcoming, pulling him away from his thoughts. Neteyam watched as you guided them to a beautifully crafted hut elevated on bamboo wooden stilts. It stood gracefully above the ground, a testament to the skilled craftsmanship of your people. The roof was steeply pitched and thatched with nipa palm leaves, while the walls were intricately woven from bamboo slats.

Tuktirey gasped in amazement, her eyes wide with childish wonder as she marveled at the hut's elevated design. "It's so tall!" she exclaimed, clearly impressed by the unique structure.

You hummed, understanding their awe and sensing the underlying hesitation in some of them.

"You will grow to like it," you reassured with a small smile. "It may be different from what you're used to, but it will keep you safe and warm. Our people have lived in harmony with Eywa and these lands for generations."

Tuktirey beamed up at you. "I can't wait to explore and learn more about your ways," she cheers, enthusiasm evident.

“I am sure you will learn well, little one,” you hum, running a hand through her braided hair.

With ease, you then moved towards the stairs, climbing up with a sense of familiarity as you began to haul their belongings to their new home. The family followed behind you, still feeling a tad bit out of place.

After ensuring they were comfortable, you began to excuse yourself, knowing you needed to give them some privacy. As you walked past Neteyam, catching his gaze, you gently rest your hand upon his chest. After murmuring a quick goodbye, you withdrew your hand and swiftly left the hut. Neteyam’s mind ran haywire, the spot where your hand had been burned with a sudden fire, leaving a lingering sensation on his skin that he couldn't shake off.

Eywa. It had only been a day and already you had an effect on him.

With your departure, the family gathered together, finding a spot to discuss the events that had transpired earlier. Neytiri paced back and forth in the open hut, footsteps loud against the wooden flooring, her mind racing with a myriad of thoughts and emotions.

"Alright," Jake sighed, running a rugged hand down his face, breaking through the tension. "We have to unpack what just happened earlier."

Neytiri nodded, her brow furrowed as she tried to make sense of the situation. Her eyes turned to Neteyam, concern evident in her voice as she asked, "Ma'itan, are you sure of this?"

"Oh, he sure is," Lo'ak answered for his brother, sending a grin his way. "I mean—Did you hear him back there?"

"I will accept this proposal. Only if she will have me," he mocked, mimicking Neteyam's accent in a deep, gravely tone. Kiri couldn't help but hide her face with her hand, trying to stifle her laughter.

"Skxawng," Neteyam snarled playfully and gave Lo'ak a light smack in response, which only made his younger siblings laugh even more.

"Enough, you two," Neytiri's voice rang out, cutting through the air. She shook her head in exasperation, her beaded locks swaying and rattling with her movements. Turning her attention back to her eldest, her tone dropped a timbre as she murmured, "Neteyam, this is a big decision. Are you truly sure about this? You wish to mate with that woman?"

Neteyam's gaze shifted from his brother to his mother, lips drawing into a contemplative frown as the weight of it all settled heavily on his shoulders. The significance of such a union wasn't lost on him. The mating bond was not merely a union of bodies; it was the fusion of two souls, a sacred connection dictated by Eywa. He took a deep breath, trying to find the right words to express his feelings.

"I am sure," he replied, his voice steady, despite the turmoil inside him. Neytiri studied his face for a moment, catching the hesitation laced in his expression.

"You do not have to do something your heart is against," his mother whispered, reaching forward, both of her hands finding his tense shoulders, rubbing deep circles into his muscle. Neteyam felt the warmth and reassurance in his mother's touch, and for a moment, he leaned into it, finding comfort in her presence.

"That’s the thing. My heart isn’t against it. I just… I felt something when I saw her." He then hesitated, struggling to unknot his mind and put his feelings into words. "Like-Like a heartbeat."

Kiri's eyes sparkled with wonder, a look of recognition flashing behind her eyes. Her tail swished with delight as she leaned forward eagerly, the shawl slipping off her shoulder in the haste of her movement. "You must have felt Eywa's connection with her. Was it like a calling? Could you feel a mighty heartbeat?"

Neteyam froze, his gaze turning to his younger sister.

"Yes. Exactly that, Kiri," he replied, his voice filled with a hint of disbelief. "It was like… she was calling out to me in some way, as if our souls were somehow intertwined."

Kiri's excitement grew, and she couldn't contain her joy. “Eywa has blessed you with a gift, brother. Rarely do mates feel such a deep soul connection on the first time they meet."

"Soul connection? That’s love at first sight, huh?" Jake interjected, his eyes glinting as he glanced at Neytiri with a knowing smile. "Sound familiar?"

Neytiri's stern façade softened as she smiled back, unable to hide her amusement. "Yes, it does," she admitted with a fondness in her voice. Her eyes sparkled with a mixture of understanding and warmth as she looked at her eldest son. "Neteyam, ma’itan, if you truly feel this connection, then it may be a sign from Eywa herself. The steps you take next will be entirely up to you."

"It's just like those stories we've heard, bro. Soulmates and destined love,” Lo’ak chimed in. “You and her, together, guided by Eywa's hand," he smirked, clasping his hands together and making kissy faces. Neteyam huffed, shaking his head.

"Yeah. It might be like that," he admitted with a touch of bashfulness.

"But let's not get carried away with the dramatics,” Neteyam sighs, snapping himself back to reality. “I still want to get to know her first. I want to take it slow.”

“Slow, huh? Is that what you call asking her to mate with you on the spot?" Lo’ak laughed.

“Lo’ak!” Neytiri hissed, glaring at him disapprovingly.

"I did not ask her to mate with me on the spot!" Neteyam snaps through gritted teeth, his voice rising slightly in embarrassment.

Lo'ak's laughter boomed through the air, thoroughly relishing the sight of his older brother's flustered expression. It was a rare occasion for Neteyam to be caught off guard by his teasing, always having a smartass rebut at the tip of his tongue.

"Yeah? Well, it sure looked like it to me," he snickered, his tail swishing back and forth in interest. Neytiri intervened, smacking him upside on the head. Lo’ak winced in response, and nursed the spot where his mother had hit him.

"Ow, ow, I get it," he groaned, lying flat on the floor. "I'll stop."

"Alright. ‘Nough of that. Come on," Jake said, with a chuckle, huddling everyone close. Once they had formed a circle, he began to address them, his tone taking on a more serious note, "Listen, I really need you kids to be on your best behavior. And I mean it."

Jake shifts his gaze to his eldest son, “Neteyam becoming a candidate for future Olo'eyktan already stirred things up enough. And I don’t even need to tell you just how messy that’s going to be.”

Neteyam heaved out a tense sigh, keeping his eyes glued to the ground. “Sorry, sir.”

“We’re gonna get through this,” Jake continued, dismissing Neteyam’s apology, his voice carrying a tone of reassurance. “Together.”

Neytiri moved closer to her husband, gently placing her head over Jake's shoulder. “What does your father always say?” Neytiri murmured, her voice soft and soothing.

“Sullys stick together…”

“Little more feeling this time!"

“Sullys stick together!”

As the night falls and the stars twinkle in the dark sky, they finally retire to their new sleeping arrangements. Neteyam lays on his makeshift bed, a woven mat made out of palm and leaves, his mind abuzz with thoughts. He gazes out of the hut's opening, where he can catch a glimpse of you in the moonlight, going about your duties as Tsahìk, checking up on a few of the sick and injured in their huts.

Your silhouette against the moonlit backdrop mesmerizes him, and he finds himself drawn to your presence like a moth to a flame. As you notice his gaze, you offer him a reassuring nod before continuing your duties. His heart swells with warmth at the acknowledgment.

With the comfort of your presence lingering in his mind, Neteyam turns onto his back, feeling a sense of peace settle over him. The gentle rustle of palm leaves outside and the distant sounds of the forest lull him into a state of relaxation. He closes his eyes, allowing himself to fall into a deep and restful sleep.

The next morning, the village awakens early. The sky is painted in hues of pink and orange as the sun begins to rise over the mountains. Knocking gently at the side of their hut, you had called for them before the sun could even fully emerge, offering to show them more of the village and its surrounding wonders.

You lead them through the mountains, showing Kiri, Lo'ak, Tuk, and Neteyam the ways of life in this breathtaking terrain. The trees stand tall and proud, similar to those in the forest they once called home, but here they bear a different kind of energy, surrounded by majestic mountains which hold ancient tales of the ancestors before them. The group walks amidst the trees, their senses heightened by the subtle sounds of wildlife and the fresh scent of earth.

As you lead them further, you come across vast rice fields, a breathtaking sight of lush green beauty stretching as far as the eye can see. The fields seem to come alive with the morning sunlight. The stalks of rice sway gently in the breeze, creating a mesmerizing dance, captivating the forest Na’vi.

Amidst the exploration, Neteyam's keen eyes spot a group of mountain climbers in the distance, scaling a rocky hill.

"What are they doing?" he questions, his curiosity piqued.

"They're practicing for the coming-of-age ceremony," you say, your gaze following the climbers. Neteyam's curiosity turns into intrigue, and he listens intently as you begin to explain.

"It's an ascent to the clouded peak," you share, pointing to a towering mountain in the distance, its summit shrouded in mist. "At dawn, the candidates gather at the base. It is the tallest mountain in the region and they must set out on a journey to reach the summit."

Lo’ak whistles, grimacing while he sizes up the daunting landscape before him. "We have to climb that?" he asks incredulously.

“Only if you want to. Your Omatikayan ikinimaya should be enough for you to be recognized in the clan,” you assure him with a pat on his back.

Neteyam stays silent for the next few minutes, his faraway gaze directed towards the rocky mountain. Suddenly, he startles everyone by speaking up, the words slipping from his mouth causing your eyes to rip wide open.

"I want to partake in it," he says, his voice steady and resolute. The sudden declaration shakes everyone, and his siblings turn their attention fully to him, waiting to hear his reasoning.

You too gaze up at him in disbelief. "Are you certain?" you ask, wanting to ensure that he fully comprehends the challenges that lie ahead. “This is no simple feat—”

"I am strong," Neteyam interrupts, sounding a little harsher than he had intended, but it was important to him that you knew of his abilities. "I will be able to train for it well."

Your milky eyes drop to his battle-hardened body, sweeping over his broad shoulders and the ridges of his defined muscles, glistening softly in the sun’s glow. The scars etched on his skin tell tales of past battles and trials, a testament to his experience. Neteyam holds his ground, finding himself flexing subconsciously under your gaze.

"I know you are strong," you retort.

"Yes—"

"But the warriors of the forest are different from those of the mountains," you cut him off with a pointed stare. "It is not just about physical strength; you will have to learn how they train, their techniques, and their ways of life," you begin to move towards him, a challenging look in your eyes. "It is difficult to fill a cup that is already full."

Neteyam's jaw clenches, his gaze unwavering. "Then I will empty my cup. I will adapt," he asserts with passion. "I will prove myself not just to your people but to myself as well. If I am to be chief, I have to embrace your ways."

"Pretty sure you just want to impress her, bro," Lo’ak quips. Neteyam scowls at his remark and, in a swift motion, drives his elbow straight into his younger brother's side. At the impact, Lo’ak immediately folds, nursing his side as his face contorts in pain. “Fuck!”

Ignoring Lo’ak, Neteyam turns back to you, his expression steadfast and unwavering. In that moment, he feels an overwhelming longing to prove himself to you, to earn your admiration and love based on his own merits, not just because of any preconceived notions or expectations.

His determination shines like a beacon, and his sincerity tugs at your heartstrings. It's as if he's baring his soul before you, showing you the depths of his desire to be someone you can truly respect and admire.

With a hum, you settle back, your tail flickering behind you in intrigue. If the rumors carried by the wind from clan to clan about him were to be believed, then you should have known he would want to partake in the ceremony.

Such a bold spirit, evident in those golden eyes of his every time he spoke. The mountains around you seemed to echo with approval, as if Eywa herself was acknowledging his resolve.

"If you are that eager, then I will teach you," you say, the decision firm in your heart. It feels as if a weight is lifted off his shoulders at your acceptance of his offer. Neteyam hums, trying to maintain a stoic expression but the telltale flicks of his ears and tail betray his anticipation and eagerness.

"Do not be mistaken, though. I will not baby you," you add with a daring lilt in your voice. You begin to walk away, the swing of your hips matching the sway of your tail. "Let us hope you can keep up, mighty warrior."

That seemed to only fuel the fire within him further.

Neteyam’s chest rumbles in a deep laugh, a fanged grin stretching across his cheeks. "Yes, ma’am.”

< PREV | SERIES MASTERLIST | NEXT >

see you in the next episode where the reader works her future husband's ass to the ground xoxo

TAGLIST: @rainbowsocks @milktealvrr @strawberri-blonde

[wendsky]

birthday disaster

wednesday addams x !outcast!fem!reader

a birthday surprise for your girlfriend turns out to be a disaster.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You stood in the middle of your shared dorm room, eyeing the decorations with nervous anticipation. Bright strings of lights crisscrossed the ceiling, casting colorful glows across the room, and a small banner that read "Happy Birthday, Wednesday!" hung over the window. It was simple but heartfelt, something you had agonized over for days. Parties weren’t Wednesday’s thing—you knew that. But when you mentioned wanting to do something special for her, Enid had enthusiastically jumped in to help you plan. She assured you that Wednesday, despite her stoic nature, would appreciate the effort.

But now, as you finished setting up the last of the small black cupcakes (because no birthday party for Wednesday could ever be without some shade of darkness), you couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling gnawing at your gut.

Enid walked in, beaming. "Wow, this place looks amazing! Wednesday’s going to love it, I’m sure of it!"

You forced a smile, trying to let her energy lift your spirits. "I hope so. She’s… not exactly the party type."

"True," Enid chirped, grabbing one of the cupcakes and taking a bite, "but it’s her birthday. And when you’re in a relationship, sometimes you have to let the other person spoil you a little, right? She’ll get it."

You nodded, but the doubts still lingered. Wednesday wasn’t like anyone else. She was unique, complex, and hard to read—qualities that had drawn you to her in the first place. But those same qualities made moments like this feel uncertain.

A few minutes later, the door creaked open, and there she was—Wednesday Addams. Dressed in her usual black attire, her dark braids falling over her shoulders, she stepped into the room. Her eyes flicked to the decorations, then to you, her expression unreadable.

"Happy birthday," you said softly, feeling suddenly small under her steady gaze.

Wednesday stared at the banner, the lights, the cupcakes, and then at you. "What… is this?"

You swallowed, nerves bubbling up. "I thought we could celebrate a little, just us and Enid. It’s your birthday, and I wanted to make it special for you."

Her eyes lingered on the decorations, her lips pressed into a thin line. She said nothing for a long moment, and the silence hung in the air like a weight. Finally, she nodded, though her expression remained distant. "How thoughtful."

The words were polite, but they lacked her usual warmth or any excitement, and you felt a twinge of unease.

Enid, ever the optimist, took the lead, dragging Wednesday further into the room to look at the food and games she had helped set up. You tried to join in, but something in Wednesday’s posture told you she wasn’t enjoying any of this. Her responses were curt, and she barely glanced at the cupcakes you had painstakingly decorated with tiny skulls. It was like watching a storm brewing—dark, silent, and inevitable.

The party carried on for about an hour before Wednesday stepped away to talk to Enid near the window. You were busy cleaning up some stray cupcake crumbs when you overheard their conversation.

"I fail to see the point of this," Wednesday said, her voice low but audible enough for you to hear.

Enid, ever cheerful, responded with a laugh. "It’s just for fun, Wednesday. Your girlfriend worked really hard to make this special for you."

"Yes, and I appreciate the effort," Wednesday replied, her tone cool, "but I do not enjoy frivolous activities like this. I find them a waste of time."

You froze. Your heart clenched painfully in your chest, the air seeming to leave the room. She wasn’t enjoying it. Everything you’d done, all the careful planning, the decorations, the cupcakes—it was all pointless to her.

You turned away, not wanting to hear any more. The party that had already felt fragile now crumbled completely in your heart. You had wanted to make her happy, to give her something special on her birthday, but you had failed.

Without a word, you slipped out of the room, leaving Enid and Wednesday behind. The chill of the hallway felt like a slap to the face as you made your way outside, seeking solace in the quiet night. Tears pricked at your eyes, but you blinked them away. You didn’t want to cry. You didn’t want to feel this hurt, but you couldn’t help it.

For the next few days, you found yourself pulling away from Wednesday. You still saw her, of course—Nevermore wasn’t big enough for you to avoid her entirely—but you avoided long conversations, made excuses to leave early, and kept your emotions tightly locked away. The distance between you grew, but Wednesday, in her usual obliviousness to social cues, didn’t seem to notice. Or maybe she didn’t care.

Until one day, she did.

It had been nearly a week since the failed birthday party when Wednesday finally cornered you in the library, her sharp gaze locking onto you as you tried to avoid her.

"You’ve been avoiding me," she stated bluntly, stepping closer.

You flinched at her directness but didn’t deny it. "I’ve been busy."

"Lying does not suit you," Wednesday said, her eyes narrowing. "What’s going on?"

A bitter laugh escaped your lips. "Why do you care? You didn’t care when I tried to do something nice for you."

Wednesday’s expression didn’t change, but her eyes darkened with realization. "This is about the birthday party."

You stared at the bookshelves, unable to meet her gaze. "I heard what you said to Enid. About how it was a waste of time."

There was a long silence, and when Wednesday finally spoke, her voice was quieter than usual. "I never intended for you to hear that."

"Well, I did," you snapped, the hurt you’d been holding back pouring out now. "I worked so hard to make it special for you, even though I knew parties weren’t your thing. I just wanted you to feel appreciated, but you didn’t care."

Wednesday didn’t respond immediately. Instead, she stood there, her mind clearly working through what you had said. Her expression softened, ever so slightly, as she stepped closer to you.

"I am not accustomed to… celebrations," she said slowly, as if choosing her words carefully. "But I did not mean to hurt you."

You looked up at her, eyes searching her face for any sign of sincerity. "It felt like you didn’t care."

Wednesday’s gaze met yours, and for the first time, you saw something in her eyes you hadn’t seen before—regret. "I may not understand why people enjoy such activities, but that does not mean I do not appreciate the effort you put into it."

The tension in your chest eased slightly, but the hurt was still there. "Then why didn’t you say anything?"

"I didn’t know how," she admitted, her voice uncharacteristically soft. "I don’t express emotions like you do. But that doesn’t mean I didn’t notice how much you cared."

You were silent for a moment, processing her words. Wednesday’s emotions had always been difficult to read, buried beneath layers of sarcasm and stoicism. But now, standing so close to her, you could see the truth in her eyes.

"I’m sorry," she said, and those two words were more sincere than anything you had ever heard from her.

Your heart softened, the walls you had built up over the past few days slowly crumbling. You sighed, the tension leaving your body. "I just wanted you to feel special on your birthday."

Wednesday reached out, her cool hand gently brushing against yours. "You did."

And in that moment, you realized that even though Wednesday wasn’t one for grand gestures or traditional affection, she did care—in her own, quiet, dark way.

You squeezed her hand, a small smile tugging at your lips. "Next year, we can skip the party. I’ll just get you a nice, grim murder mystery novel."

Wednesday’s lips twitched into the faintest of smiles. "That would be preferable."

And just like that, the silence between you two was filled again—not with words, but with understanding.

a/n: i had this in the drafts for abit, hopefully this is a good read.

[poisonlove]

Proposal | w.a

"Sorry, can you repeat that?" I ask incredulously to the brunette in front of me.

Wednesday rolls her eyes at my request and merely stares at me with her usual apathetic gaze. We were sort of friends... well, I'm not entirely sure, given that a couple of times she told me she could barely stand me and refrained from taking my life due to my bright and optimistic attitude. Nevertheless, I enjoyed spending time with her.

"You know I hate repeating things," she says, maintaining a neutral tone, "but... I asked if you can pretend to be my girlfriend in front of my parents," she repeats, batting her lashes. "So, I didn't mishear," I murmur under my breath, and the long-braided girl rolls her eyes at my comment.

Wednesday and I are completely different: she's black, I'm white; night and day; yin and yang. My reaction is entirely justified! How can two people so different be together? Despite these internal questions, a part of me has been waiting for this proposal for a long time. Even though the gothic girl wasn't programmed for relationships, my heart couldn't help but beat faster for her over time. Wednesday remains unsettling, and her tastes are truly unique, but despite everything, talking to her is pleasant, and I adore the way she treats me.

In the end, the little brat cares about me.

"So?" she asks impatiently, and I blink, diverting my attention from my thoughts. "Why? Why do you want to pretend in front of your parents?" I inquire with curiosity, and Wednesday crosses her arms over her chest, looking at me seriously.

Wednesday sighs, lowering her head towards the floor, averting her gaze from mine. "You know I hate the human race, right?" she rhetorically asks, and I nod, attentively watching the gothic girl. "I don't want my family to know that I still feel this hatred. I want them to believe that I have social interactions," she says, almost with shyness in her whisper. "And besides, they already know you," she adds absentmindedly.

Analyzing her words, I smile widely with mischief. "You want your parents to believe that you're like them... Do you care about their opinion!" I say with emotion, approaching Wednesday more. I wrap my arms around her waist, catching the brunette off guard, and hug her tightly against my chest. "Y/n," she warns, her voice lowering dangerously. Seeing that I don't let go of her, Wednesday sighs heavily before tentatively reciprocating the hug, making me triumphantly smile.

"See? You've taken steps forward! You can endure hugs," I say, smiling widely.

Wednesday loosens herself from my arms and sighs heavily. "I can tolerate touching you for a few minutes before my homicidal instinct acts on its own," she says absentmindedly, tightening her grip.

Okay, her arms were around my neck, and I wasn't exactly sure if Wednesday was being serious. I loosen my hold on her body and step back, observing her brown eyes completely unreadable. "Alright," I say smiling slightly and Wednesday lifts the corners of her lips simulating a smile.

"Perfect," she declares, immediately wiping the smile from her face. The gothic girl walks towards her desk and sits in front of her typewriter, leaving me stunned. "Is that all?" I ask incredulously and Wednesday turns her head towards me looking at me seriously. "Yes. Now go, I need to write. See you tomorrow morning at the entrance, don't be late," she says with a neutral tone returning to her writing.

The sound of her fingers pounding on the keyboard fills the room, and I'm left staring at Wednesday Addams. "Stop looking at me, it's irritating," she says, sighing loudly. "Go away," she repeats and I smile unconsciously at her words. In the particular language of the Addams, stop looking at me seems to translate to if you look at me, I get distracted and can't continue writing and i have to talk to you

Exiting Ophelia Hall, I run into Enid returning from her date. "Everything okay with Ajax?" I ask with curiosity and the blonde laughs happily, nodding.

"And you? Has Wednesday already grown tired of you?" she says smiling and I nod my head, my enthusiasm slipping away.

"You know she likes you... she's just slow in these things," Enid encourages me and I smile with sadness. "Yeah..." I say doubtfully and sigh loudly. "I'm going to my dorm, goodnight," I say to Enid, who looks at me with sadness before walking towards her room.

(...)

"Good morning," I say with enthusiasm as I see Wednesday Addams waiting for me at the entrance of Nevermore Academy. The gothic girl looks at me impatiently.

"You're late," Wednesday says, looking at me seriously, arms crossed. "Sorry... Yoko didn't wake me up," I justify, and the brunette shoots me a glare. I unconsciously smile, seeing the tension in Wednesday's shoulders, her coffee-colored eyes brimming with irritation. "The usual silly vampire," she mutters softly, and I glance at the brunette, suppressing a knowing smile at her jealous outburst.

"Y/n!" I turn towards the voice and see the mentioned girl running towards me, holding my hoodie. "Yoko," I smile at the vampire, immediately feeling a piercing gaze behind my back. "You forgot your hoodie; thanks for lending it to me," she says, smiling widely and revealing her fangs.

"Thanks," I take the hoodie, and with the corner of my eye, I see Wednesday continuing to stare at us with irritation.

I walk back towards Wednesday, and she scrutinizes me with her eyes, shining with jealousy. "Did you lend her your hoodie?" she unconsciously asks, and I nod without any issue. "Good," Wednesday rolls her eyes and walks out of the iron gate, leaving me stunned and standing alone.

Every time Wednesday saw me with Yoko, she became impatient and stared at us with irritation, unable to avoid feeling uncomfortable. I knew Wednesday's jealousy was entirely different from romance; the gothic girl had confessed that I'm her only friend, not counting Enid, and Wednesday doesn't like sharing her things.

"Hey!" I chase after Wednesday, and the girl continues to walk with her classic elegant yet serious pace. "Wait," I shout at the gothic girl, and she stops, sighing loudly. "Move," she says irritably, and I roll my eyes at her childish behavior.

The Addams family's car appears before our eyes, sending a shiver down my spine. "So, shall we go in?" Wednesday Addams says, opening the car door and inviting me to get inside the vintage car. Lurch watches us from the central mirror, and his eyes make me uneasy.

Wednesday's hand delicately takes mine, and my eyes shift downwards. My heart races against my chest. The gothic girl's skin is pale and cold to the touch, but it's a pleasant sensation. Wednesday holds my hand in a peculiar way, loosely against mine, with a stiff wrist, as if she doesn't know how to hold hands.

Lurch looks away from the mirror and starts the car. "What are you doing?" I whisper as soon as the partition rises between us, and Wednesday quickly lets go of my hand. "We need to start the plan; play along," she apologizes with an authoritative and cold tone, surprising me.

"Well..." I say hesitantly, looking out of the car window. The landscape outside is shrouded in an eerie atmosphere, with a dense, dark-leafed forest standing against a twilight sky. The air is thick with mystery, and the road winding through the forest seems to lead to unknown places.

The car stops, and I, with a puzzled look, glance around. "We've arrived," announces Wednesday, quickly getting out of the car, and I follow suit.

The Addams' house stands imposingly before us, a Gothic mansion wrapped in an aura of dark elegance. Sharp spires pierce the sky, while intertwined vines give it an even more sinister appearance. The windows are adorned with heavy curtains and stained glass that seems to hide dark secrets within.

A sense of unease envelops the surrounding atmosphere, but at the same time, there's something fascinating in the decadent majesty of the Addams' abode. With uncertain steps, I approach the main door, ready to immerse myself in the enigmatic world of this unique family.

Wednesday rings the doorbell.

The gothic girl firmly grabs my hand again. "Calm down and act like a real girlfriend, or I'll kill you," she whispers in a low voice, her gaze fixed on the imposing door of the Addams' house.

The tension in the air is palpable, and when the door opens slowly, Mr. Addams, a man of imposing figure and mysterious air, appears behind it. His mischievous smile widens upon seeing his daughter Wednesday hand in hand with me.

"Stormcloud!" Gomez opens his arms, expecting a hug from his daughter. However, Wednesday looks at him with confusion, remaining fixed in place, not responding to the expected embrace.

"Darling! Our terror is home!" Gomez Addams exclaims with a playful smile, revealing the family's peculiar sense of humor.

At that moment, the house door opens elegantly, revealing the dark and fascinating figure of Morticia Addams. Her presence is shrouded in an aura of mystery and grace, with her long black hair and the form-fitting dress that emphasizes her sinister elegance.

"Welcome, my treasures," Morticia murmurs, her calm and measured voice adding a touch of seduction to the atmosphere. Her gaze, penetrating and magnetic, traverses the foyer as she observes the two of us with interest. A smile spreads across her lips upon seeing our intertwined hands.

"Our little one brought home a guest," announces Mr. Addams, and Morticia smiles slightly. "It's a pleasure to see you again, y/n," she says, addressing me with a slight bow.

I met the Addams family at Nevermore, and it was the first time I saw their house.

"The pleasure is mine," I say with a smile on my lips. A guttural sound echoes behind us, and when I turn, I see Lurch walking strangely towards us, holding my hoodie.

Without saying anything, Wednesday takes the hoodie and wraps it around her waist. "Don't say anything," she whispers, tightening her grip on my hand, and I nervously smile. Lurch takes off his hat and mutters something incomprehensible before entering the house. "Thanks," I say, smiling widely and leaning towards Wednesday.

I had to play the role of a girlfriend, right? So, I had to thank her appropriately. I unconsciously smile as my lips touch her pale cheek. Sensing a strange movement near her, Wednesday turns towards me, looking at me seriously. Instead of a simple thank-you, my lips collide abruptly with hers. I immediately sigh at the contact with her soft lips.

Wednesday stiffens at the touch but shows no sign of rejection. The gothic girl extends her hand, intertwining her fingers around my neck, pulling me closer, our lips firmly attached.

I break the kiss and look at the family with embarrassment, Gomez smiling widely. My heart was pounding wildly, and shivers ran down my body, the ghost of the kiss still present on my lips. The kiss was fantastic, I must admit, and her lips were delightfully cold and plump, exactly as I had imagined them in my dreams.

Wednesday clenches her jaw and breaks the contact between our hands, entering the house. I was about to follow her when a hand gently grabs my arm. Mr. Addams looked at me, smiling but with a strange glint in his eyes. "You know how our family is, right?" he asks in a low voice. "Yes..." I say hesitantly, feeling a strange anxiety creeping in.

"If you dare to harm our little one, I swear I'll cut you into such small pieces that it will be impossible to find you," he threatens menacingly.

I nervously swallow saliva.

"Darling, don't scare our guest," Morticia intervenes with a small smile on her lips. "But the threat is real," she says before turning and walking towards the staircase, her husband following her with admiration.

"Well, I'm screwed," I say nervously, my eyes looking around with confusion, not exactly sure where the heck I should go.

Wednesday's Room

My eyes curiously scanned Wednesday's room: black curtains, a small guillotine, scattered weapons, and a canopy bed. I had the pleasure of meeting her little brother, Pugsley. The Addams boy had embraced Wednesday, begging her to play with him—games like burying him alive, shooting him with a crossbow, or tying him up somewhere.

The atmosphere in the room was tense, a strange silence enveloping us.

"Do you want to talk about the kiss?" I asked timidly, and Wednesday's shoulders tensed as she sat on the canopy bed. Her eyes looked at me with confusion, and with a slight nod of her head, she gestured for me to sit beside her.

I walked over with embarrassment and sat beside her.

"It was an accident," I confessed, feeling fear gradually grow in my body. Wednesday raised her head and looked at me attentively, her cold fingers touching mine.

"Okay," she said simply, her eyes looking at me in a strange way. "But we absolutely have to do it again, now," she said quickly, her eyes watching me closely. "I need to understand something," she added later, her eyes truly expressing curiosity.

I blinked in surprise and leaned towards her, shivering with excitement. Wednesday looked at me attentively and raised her chin, seeing how I was getting dangerously close to her face. I closed my eyes and bridged the gap between our lips, smiling at the moment of the long-awaited kiss. Wednesday melted at the contact and leaned further, her hands gripping my shirt with the urgency to eliminate every inch of distance between our lips. Wednesday sighed against my lips and tilted her head. With my tongue, I tapped her lower lip, shivering with pleasure as I felt the goth opening her mouth, letting me in.

Wednesday's hands tightened on my shirt, and then she pushed me away from her. I blinked incredulously, my eyes seeing her lips swollen from the kiss.

"What did you do to me? I like it," she said with confusion, pure panic in her eyes. "Nothing... maybe... you like me?" I asked rhetorically, and Wednesday turned her head abruptly in my direction.

"I don't feel anything beyond horror, disgust, and annoyance," she apologized, her tone completely irritated and cold. "I don't know, Wed..." I said tiredly as I looked at the goth. "I feel like insects are crawling on my stomach," she added, and I sighed at her words.

I quickly took her chin and kissed her abruptly, Wednesday sighing at the contact. "Do you like it when I kiss you?" I asked with curiosity, my heart beating recklessly. "Yes..." she affirmed coldly.

Wednesday leaned in, and our lips joined again. "And I want to do it again, your lips are delicious... and I want more," she confessed calmly, my cheeks blushing at her words.

"Do you like being with me? Does it bother you if I'm around you?" I asked with curiosity.

"Sometimes," she murmured weakly, her eyes looking at mine with concern.

"If I touch you..." I started, my hand resting on her arm, her muscles tensing at the contact. My fingers slid down her forearm, and Wednesday gradually relaxed, sighing as my fingers intertwined with hers.

"Does it bother you?" I concluded, and Wednesday shook her head.

"Do you like contact in general? Like, if Enid hugs you?" Wednesday raised an eyebrow with confusion and shivered at the thought, her lips curling in disgust.

"No," she confessed and tightened her grip on my hand.

"If I hug Yoko... does it bother you?" I asked, my eyes looking at the goth hopefully.

Wednesday Addams looked at me irritably and nodded.

"So, you're jealous," I said, smiling widely, and Wednesday looked at me with confusion.

"No, jealousy is for relationships," she confessed, and I sighed with frustration.

"All right... I've done the analysis... if you don't want to accept it, it's your problem," I got up from the mattress and walked towards the entrance of her room.

"Y/n," I turned at the sound of her monotonous voice and looked at her expectantly. "Can we keep kissing?" she asked innocently, her eyes looking at me with curiosity. A part of me wanted to refuse because I knew it would be my downfall, and I would suffer a lot, but my heart ardently desired contact with the goth.

"Okay," I said, smiling bitterly, and Wednesday nodded satisfactorily. "Can we do it... slowly? It's hard to assimilate," she continued, and I looked at her with surprise and confusion. "Slowly? Does that mean..." I started incredulously, a smile plastered on my lips.

"I want to discover my feelings with you," she confessed, and her eyes sparkled in a strange way, a dark desire mixing with her brown irises. "You're mine," she concluded, and my heart skipped a beat.

[redheadspark]

I’m soooo excited!!!! really happy that the soul mate theme won. Can I please request no. 18 with azriel, thank you <3<3<3

A/N - I love this for Azriel! Thanks for requesting this, anon!

Set You Free

Summary - Being Soulmates with the Shadowsinger would bring pain, but also life too

Warnings - Mostly fluff with a hint of angst

As soon as Azriel closed the doors behind him, he knew he was going to be in a world of hurt. 

It wasn’t that he was wanting to get in trouble, given his track record as the Shadowsinger of Prythian.  He had to stay in the shadows and get all the information he needed.  Then again that meant he had to get his hands dirty every once in a while and find himself in tough spots.  This time though was supposed to be the opposite: get in and get out.  Even Cassian called this mission a simple “Walk in the Park”

It was no walk in the park.  

The small penthouse that Azriel shared with you, his soulmate of 500 years, was dimly lit with only the scattering stars in the sky and the hung crescent moon that gave a blue tint through the massive windows that overlooked the bay and Velaris.  Azriel looked at the living room, the worn couch that you brought with you from your first home, a massive blanket that was a mating gift from High Lady Feyre perched over the couch, and the lingering scent of the lavender candle that still had a lingering amber lit on the wick on the kitchen counter.  Azriel could tell you recently turned in for the night, but with a small look in the direction of the master bedroom, he noticed the light was still on since the light was escaping under the crack of the door.

He inwardly cringed, this was not how he wanted to see you tonight.

You knew his job at the Spymaster was tough and would have him be away 80 percent of the time.  It was a sacrifice you made taking him on as not just his soulmate but as his wife.  However, Azriel swore to you that he never wanted you to be pushed aside for his duties and his devotion to Night Court, to High Lord Rhysand even.  You came first in his life, and you saw it in the first few years of your marriage.  He eased back on the missions that were given to him and attempted to stay close to Night Court, merely to be close to you.  Not that you needed any kind of protection from him, you were an Illryian Warrior and grew up in the camps and fought for your life.  Azriel admired that about you, your spirit and the tough exterior that seemed to contrast your tender heart and kindness. 

He found himself profoundly lucky to have you as his soulmate, which was why he wanted to make sure to work hard for your relationship and marriage.

Creaking open the bedroom door, he poked his head in and saw you perched in the bed, sheets bunched around your lap, and a book in your hold as you were reading silently to yourself.  It was amazing really, seeing his mate reading a book and perched in bed like a common housewife when Azriel knew you were a fierce Illyrian that could throw any other soldier over your head with ease.  He’s seen you on the batter field, sword in hand and able to slay anyone in front of you.  

Yet there you were, reading a book and looking as content as ever.

“You’re not that good at lurking behind doors, my dear,” 

Azriel heard your voice slip through the room, making him chuckle as he finally amends into the bedroom and closes the door behind him.  He could breathe in the lingering scent of lemons and cinnamon, your unique scent that he craved and loved over the centuries.  Your long hair was in a loose braid over your shoulder, the longest it’s ever been that had hints of yellow and red mixed together.  Even the freckles along your cheeks and arms made you look radiant, almost a distraction that you would have to then eliminate your enemies.

Azriel had to admit, he would fall under your spell at any time from a simple smile.

“I thought I mastered it after 500 years of marriage,” Azriel joked as he toed off his shoes, you letting a giggle slip past your lips as you looked up from your book.  Your face which had a smile was now laced with concern from seeing Azriel’s appearance.  Slamming your book shut, you sat up in bed as your mate shrugged off his jacket, showing the scattering of bruises and a massive cut on his former that was near his scarred hands.

“What happened!” You asked in worry, “You told me that you would be safe and nothing would happen—“

“I’m alright, sweetheart,” He reassured you calmly as he walked over to the bed, sitting on the side and close enough for you to touch his wounds tenderly and look over every inch.  He hated having you fear for his safety, you both knew deep down that he could handle himself. But you still worried over him, it was in your nature to wish for him to not be harmed.  You’ve seen him look worse and almost on the brink of death, and although he looked minor, he was still your main concern. 

You felt it in the bond: Azriel telling you the truth.

“Any casualties?” You asked him, seeing him sigh and rub the back of his neck nervously.

“Just one from our camps, a new recruit that was too reckless for his own good,” He answered, you reaching over to lace your fingers together.  Being soulmates ultimately meant your intuition was linked as well: neither one of you could lie to the other.  Not that Azriel was a known liar, but he had to be persuasive with the truth every once in a while when he was on the job.  He would get away with it when it came to others, even other High Lords or those who had more power over him.

But with you, his soulmate, he could never lie.

There were plenty of fights in the past between the two of you, and the truth coming out about how you both were feeling almost brought your relationship to a halt a few times.  Scream matching or death glares, in the end, you both still loved each other.  Relying on each other’s truth did strengthen your love for one another.  It was not a burden but more of a blessing, you both being an open book to the other and not wishing to hide anything from each other.  It made you stronger and more in love with each other, even after centuries together and plenty of hours to bond.

“The threat is eliminated then?” You asked him nervously, Azriel smiling and kissing the top of your head.

“Yes,” he replied simply, you feeling it in the bond that he was truthful.  

“Good, and I take it you’re going to take the day off tomorrow?” You asked carefully, though you were softly smiling and the worry was gone from your lips and cheeks. Azriel nodded, kissing the back of your hand.  

“I already asked Rhysand for some time with you,” He reported, you grinning from ear to ear as he then gestured to the bathroom that was adjacent to your bedroom, “Wanna join me in washing away that filth I brought him?”

“As if you need to ask me,” You replied, throwing the blankets off your legs and tossing the book to the side.  Azriel laughed, taking your hand to guide you out of bed and you both literally ran to the bathroom.    You both loved being true to one another, even on the darker days and the days that were filled with worry and uneasiness.  In the end, it made your love for one another ten times better than before.

The truth always sets you two free.

The End

September Prompt Session

[kivino]

GENTLE || ROOMMATE!SIMON ‘GHOST’ RILEY x READER

my cod masterlist || my jjk masterlist

ao3 link to this fic

Word count – 1.8k

Tags/Warnings – Fluff, SFW, Simon and reader are roommates, reader has longer hair, reader is a hot mess, idiots in love, mutual pining, hair-braiding.

Summary -  You’ve been having a rough week, but your roommate Simon is there to help you through it.

A/n – still working on two cod requests in my inbox, so here’s a little piece I started a while ago! I’ve not been having a good time myself, so it’s sort of…a let out for my feelings. I hope you guys like it, and remember to like, reblog and follow, please and thank you <3

The whole week have been fucking you up really good. Nothing seemed to be going according to your plans and it felt like the universe was constantly conspiring against you. Of course, at the start it was the small things – bad weather, occasional tripping and falling here and there, alarm not going off in time, but those small things started to build up and now you were on edge more than you would’ve liked to admit. It felt like you were about to break down the moment another minor inconvenience will make your day worse. Thankfully, weekend was ahead and in the evening your friend will be coming over to your flat for a little hangout that you had to schedule several weeks in advance because how busy both of you were. You had hoped that at least today wouldn’t be as bad as the rest of the week so you could get at least a short break from the misfortune that seemed to like following you these days.

However, the reality of the situation wasn’t exactly what you’d hoped for. The day was going well, but on your way back to your flat some random driver decided that your outfit lacked a unique touch, which was why your coat and boots were all covered in dirty rain water and you were seconds away from having a mental breakdown right on the street. But at least you were almost home, so you’ll change out of the damp, dirty clothes pretty soon. A sudden worried thought formed in your head and you immediately started rummaging through your bag in attempts to find your keys. Only to come up with nothing. Left in another bag.

Well, that was the last straw. You feel your whole body start to shake, as you stomp towards your flat, hoping your roommate is not out and about, even though he rarely is. It felt like your already frayed nerves started straight up melting, overloaded and done with keeping it together this whole time. Everything was too much, and you had too little patience to deal with it. You could feel the pain shoot right through the joints of your finger as you pressed on the doorbell, holding it in place, as if urging your roommate on with noise will help him open the door faster.

Soon enough, the mountain of a man that your roommate is, opens your door. You see a hint of confusion on Simon’s face from the fact that you were relentlessly assaulting the doorbell instead of opening the door with your own keys, but he doesn’t say anything.

You push through him, angrily throw your dirty coat on the floor and toss the boots in the direction of the shoe rack, not even bothering putting them away, before you storm into the living room and collapse on the couch with an exasperated, spent sigh. Solace, at last. You barely hear the footsteps of Simon following you.

The flat looks clean, no doubt Simon decided to help while you were out and about, so that means you only have to make yourself look presentable. But you couldn’t even get up from the couch to freshen up, exhaustion overtaking you completely. You let out a heavy sigh as your head hits the pillows, seeking nothing but some sleep after a whole day of running errands that seemed to have no end to them.

“Are your feeling alright?” You hear a low, quiet voice of your roommate and open one of your eyes to look at him. You obviously weren’t alright and he was an unwilling witness to the past week of you getting your ass kicked by events that were out of your control. Simon tactfully decided not to comment on it though, occasionally checking in on you and trying to make it easier by helping out here and there. He wasn’t the talkative type, preferring to speak through his actions, and you respected that. You could say you grew on each other after all this time of living together, but it always felt like there was something…unspoken between you. Some line him and you were not ready (or rather afraid?) to cross.

“I’m…no, Simon. Not really. I’m not.” You let out a heavy sigh, which makes the weight on your shoulders feel almost crushing. If your eyes weren’t closed right now, you’d see him nodding thoughtfully to the sound of your voice, catching every word.  

“Want me to help?”

“You really don’t have to…” You didn’t want to burden your roommate with your feelings, worries and sour mood. Simon never actually told you what he did for work specifically, but the fact that he’d disappear leaving only some utility money and a note, saying to call him in case of an emergency, just to return with a duffel bag and lack of any light in his eyes several months later was enough to add two and two together. This mountain of a man most likely had more than enough on his plate already, and a nagging voice in the back of your head “helpfully” suggested that he probably considered your very visible distress childish or ignorant, when he probably saw things that your nightmares would never even remotely replicate.

“It’s a yes or no question.” Simon’s tone was firm, but living with him for some time taught you it wasn’t him trying to intimidate you into agreeing. This gruff behavior was just how he was and he wasn’t going out of his way to be threatening.  

“Yes.” You croak after a pregnant pause. That was all Simon needed to get to business, circling the flat with swift, but quiet steps, as he started to put away your things, watching over you from the corner of his eye. A few minutes passed and he approached you once again, still curled into yourself on the couch. You feel him gently shake you by the shoulder, trying to get your attention and pull you out of your sleepy daze. For a guy this big he sure has quite a light hand, huh?

“Sit up for me.”  He murmurs close to you. You try to sit up straight but your muscles betray you soon after, making you slump to the side, putting your weight on the couch cushions that felt softer than silk at the moment. Simon didn’t seem to mind that, you feel the couch cushions dip under his weight right behind you. Despite the sleepiness, you hear almost every shift of fabric behind you and when you feel Simon’s fingers delicately brush against your hair you let out a soft sigh.

He’s gentle. Almost painfully so. Every stroke of his hands echoes not only in your wary head or tense shoulders, but in every cell of your body. Mild, but not in an underwhelming, disappointing way, reminding you of benign salt-filled waves licking up the sand from the sea shore.

You feel his fingers separate your hair in three parts methodically, every movement deliberately slow, gradually melting away at the solid tension locked inside your body, condensed within every muscle fiber and solidified into your sapped, utterly drained form. You wanted to say something, let Simon know at least in some way that you appreciated what he was doing for you, when there were so many things he could be doing, instead of taking care of his worn-out roommate.

His feather-light touches had your mind traveling somewhere you knew it was not supposed to. If Simon was willing to go to such lengths to comfort you, then what would he do if the two of you were more than just…cohabitants? The word didn’t feel right in your mind, unmistakably not doing justice to the strong, intimate bond that you shared without ever having to utter a word to have the feeling of a mutual understanding settle over the both of you.

 “It’s alright, love. Everything’s going to be fine.” Simon’s voice is quiet and low, you can only compare it to the rumble of thunder, comforting in its rich sound with a barely discernable hum to it. Your chest feels much lighter with every second spent like that, beside him, taking care of you in such a small, but at the same time important way.

You could feel the warmth he was radiating, even through layers of clothes and exhaustion-induced haze slowly clouding your consciousness. Strange. Despite how cold and distant he seemed when you first met him, he turned out to be quite the opposite of what you expected him to be. Light touches of his fingers, warm and calloused (why are they so scarred? You didn’t see him without his clothes often, but when you did, admittedly, on accident, his body was littered with scars, resembling a map of a starry sky), lifted the weight off your shoulders with such ease, for a moment you considered him to be a wizard of some sorts. Well, he did have the weirdness for it, for sure. You dismissed the thought with a smile dancing on your lips. How childish. Simon is making you childish.

You catch your thoughts before you melt into a puddle at the mere thought of getting to know the man sitting right behind you closer. Him braiding your hair so tenderly and softly, like you were the most precious thing on Earth was enough…for now. It will satiate your affection-starved mind for many more months, you were sure of that. Until then, you will enjoy his presence from a distance… You feel Simon’s fingers finally get to the end of the braid, tying it together with a hair tie you didn’t even know where he took from.

“There you go. Better?” His voice is deep and soft, like he’s afraid to disturb the frail peace he managed to bring you. A thought dawns on you. Simon was intentionally braiding your hair very slowly.

Cheesy idiot.

“Better…”

You sit there, losing count to the minutes that have passed with you basking in each other’s presence, in the aftermath of this close, very personal moment. For the nth time you feel the urge to say something, break the silence with your voice and show Simon your earnest appreciation for his presence, his solace and everything he did for you. Your lips crack open for a moment, your head still lowered, eyes trained on your palms, nervously fidgeting fingers and your leg, slightly bouncing in one place from the tension. A couple of seconds passes and you find yourself unable to break this fragile, precious silence, when Simon’s palm finds its way back on your shoulder, blazing fire of his person drawing you in even deeper into the utmost infatuation with him.

You suck in a puff of air you didn’t know you needed. Maybe, next time. Next time you’ll tell him. Right.

check out this masterlist for more cod fics or send me a request/comment!

consider also supporting me on kofi!

[iela-0989]

Zutara Big Bang 2024

Pride and Prejudice

@zkbigbang

[ID: A digital drawing of a six-panel comic featuring Zuko and Katara from Avatar The Last Airbender. The scene took place during early in the morning, at sunrise. Both Zuko and Katara are standing while facing each other. Zuko had his long hair tied back in ponytail with a soft wave fringe. While Katara had her hair Dutch braided on the back with hair loopies on both sides. They both are wearing dark and warm long coats. Their hairs and clothes are billowing in the wind. In panel 1, Zuko is looking at Katara with sullen look and a small smile on his face. He said, "You have bewitched me, body and soul, and I love... I love... I Love You." Panel 2, Katara is looking earnestly at Zuko with glistening eyes. Zuko words continues, "I never wish to be parted from you from this day on. From Panel 3 to 6, Zuko and Katara appears in one frame from their side profile view, standing close to each other. Panel 3, Katara is holding Zuko's hand and bringing it up close to her. Zuko had a slightly surprised expression on his face. While staring into Zuko's eyes Katara said, "Well then...". Panel 4, with closed eyes, Katara leans down and plants a soft kiss on the back of Zuko's hand, on his knuckles. And Zuko seems to be moved by that sudden gesture. Panel 5, Katara looking up while still holding Zuko's hand, stares into his eyes with a warm smile, and said, "Let's never be parted. I Love You Too, Zuko." Zuko staring back at Katara and smile sweetly at her. Panel 6, Zuko bows his head down towards Katara, while Katara props her head up towards Zuko, and then they lean on each other foreheads. Both have smiles on their faces. Sun shines behind them.]

(CLICK ON THE TITLE TO READ THE FIC~ THANK YOU🤗❤️)

Since this is my first time joining ZKBigBang, I am so excited to share this very piece I made for this event. I always love Pride and Prejudice AU. Thus, this fic was among my top picks during the title bidding. 

The collaboration was really fun. I really enjoyed working with the team assigned for this project. Though I barely interact in the group, being a silent reader most of the time, I'm so thankful for every support and feedback the group members gave me🥹❤️❤️

Thanks to all the Mods for making this wonderful event possible🥳🥳🥳 I can't imagine the struggles you guys have to go through in order to make sure everything's going as planned. And for that, I'm truly thankful🥰🥰🥰

Also, do check out my Artist partner @ryu-slayer lovely art and give it some love. You're gonna love their unique style and how admirable their attention to details is🥰🥰🥰

[cvnt4him]

Think'n ab being katsukis chubby mcbling gf<33

...........................................

He loves the way you dress. He thinks it's unique and beautiful, the way your shirt skirt rides up your ass in the best way, your baby phat purse n shoes twinkling and going so well w your bejeweled top, your glossed lips and your ethereal braids with beads matching your outfit.

You were so different it was just so purely amazing and refreshing to him, when mina introduced you two he didn't expect to actually like you. You were funny, charismatic, and kind of ditzy. A complete airhead but far too sexy to even care.

It's like you were some Bratz bimbo bitch, but damn did he find it attractive. You were pulling him like a damn magnet and he hated it, but he wanted to be closer to you.

Once you started dating you had dressed a little less revealingly. You wore shorts instead of short skirts, and you just wore more shirts instead of crop tops, katsuki hated that he felt like he was taking away your style but you were doing it willingly.

You didn't want him to feel like you wanted other peoples eyes on your body (not that you mind much bc that's how you bagged him) but you wanted him to know you two were fr 4lifers n what not.

Cuddling and watching movies was your fav thing ever!! The way he held your body close to his, squishing the chub in your tummy and laying his cheek against your arm occasionally peppering kisses over it. He would always make sure you didn't have to move an inch, but everytime he got up to do something for you he'd slap your ass for the fun of it.

I feel he loves to have you sit on his lap, just the way your thighs expand over his js sexy to him. Pinching your thighs n tummy in public when you wear revealing shit to make you angry is his fav thing to do to you. He always makes sure to stand behind you when you walk and bend over (bc you can't seem to get it in your thick skull that you shouldn't js bend over and that you should crouch down to pick up what you need.)

Going shopping w you is like a warzone, if someone takes the top you've been eyeballing from across the mall you will throw hands , no doubt ab it. He holds you down fr if the bitch man step in yk he does too. He don't play behind his bbg!!!!

Okay but when the bitch decides to comment on your body that's when you really lose your shit. You don't care ab what people say anymore but it's the fact she was trying to get under your skin whilst saying what she did. It might've slightly gotten under your skin.. but not that much!

You hate fighting in nails especially bc you love getting long nails however no broken nail is gon stop you from giving a bitch a well deserved ass beating better fucking believe it.

Bc I created this you obviously win the fight.

You go out to get ice cream as a reward, bakugou however is still heated from the fight he fr would've killed that man let's be real🤷🏽‍♀️

I feel like the "white girl effect" / "black girl effect" is actually a thing, bc bakugou wasnt really necessarily stiff w the way he dressed before you but let's js say he looks sexier now that you're together.

Making out while listening to "mama I'm inlove w a criminal">>>>>>>

He hates your music taste fr but he thugs through ts for the love of you.

Speaking of thugging, he loves when you sit on his face, ain't nothing like coming home from doing whatever and burying his face in your ass. Slapping it n js putting his face all up in there like some kind of dog.

He loves putting you in a mating dress fr, or having you ride him, he likes the way you scratch up his back and chest. Sloppy head or no head is his motto

The way you walk n talk gets to him sometimes, like you can js say the stupidest shit n he'll get so red unintentionally like you are js too cute for him n he don't even believe in that typa shit bro

Watching mina do your hair or the both of you going out to get your nails done then treating yourself to chipotle is one of his guilty pleasures, I'm sure most guys don't wanna be trapped w their girlfs why they're doing all that feminine shit but bakugou doesn't mind it actually. He loves spending time w you no matter what, leaving your side was not on his 2024 bingo.

Don't get me wrong, being a mcbling bimbo is your life fr, however, you don't mind js putting away that side you sometimes. Js walking around in one of his shirts some boxers and glasses while your braids are in a bun is js how you crave to be sometimes. N he def don't mind seeing you like that either the way those boxers hug your ass is just absolutely divine in his eyes.

You don't really get insecure but on the occasion when you feel less than he's so quick to tell you to shut the fuck up.. that's it, js stfu.

Anyways, being katsukis chubby mcbling girlf 😞🙏🏽

...........................................

AN: this is a black reader/self insert so when I say braids I do mean like box braids, butterfly locs, French twists type shit so... Yeah!!!!!!!

This came out longer than I expected

[kiki-smith21]

A Silent Understanding

Wednesday Addams x autistic fem reader

A/N: This is my first fanfic, and any feedback would be appreciated. Let me know if you want a part 2. (I am actually autistic, so this is mostly based off the symptoms I show, but if you have any typical symptoms of autism you wish for me to add to the story later let me know and I'll try my best. Please be respectful to all, and remember to drink water and look after yourself, cuties)

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Summary: In the comfort of the library, you and Wednesday share a moment of vulnerability and trust.

In the dimly lit, Gothic confines of Nevermore Academy, the atmosphere was as thick with mystery as ever. Wednesday Addams, with her signature braids and dark demeanour, was engrossed in her latest endeavor—a particularly challenging crossword puzzle.

You, a quiet student with an affinity for the arts and a mind that danced to a different rhythm, often found solace in the same library where Wednesday spent much of her time. You had always admired her from afar, drawn to her enigmatic presence and unique perspective on the world.

Today, the library was especially silent, save for the occasional creak of the old wooden floors and the soft rustling of pages. You found a seat at a nearby table, trying to focus on your sketchbook. It was in these rare, quiet moments that you felt most at peace, your thoughts flowing freely without the need for words.

As the hours ticked by, you noticed Wednesday glancing over her crossword with a hint of frustration. Summoning your courage, you approached her table, clutching a folded piece of paper in your hand.

"Do you need help with that?" you asked softly, your voice barely above a whisper. Your heart raced as you waited for her response, unsure if you had intruded on her solitary work.

Wednesday looked up, her dark eyes meeting yours with a flicker of curiosity. "And why would you offer assistance?" she asked, her tone a mixture of skepticism and intrigue.

"I noticed you were having trouble with a few clues," you replied, hoping your voice conveyed the sincerity you felt. "I've always been good with puzzles."

A faint, inscrutable smile tugged at the corners of Wednesday’s lips. "Very well. Let's see if your skills are as impressive as you claim."

You settled into the seat beside her, your nerves calming as you began to work through the crossword clues together. The process was slow but rewarding, each shared glance and whispered suggestion deepening the connection between you.

As the final word fit perfectly into the grid, Wednesday's gaze lingered on you. "You did well," she said, her voice softer than usual. "Thank you."

The library was quiet, save for the faint hum of the old heating system. In this serene bubble, you felt an unexpected urge to express something you had been holding back. You reached for the folded piece of paper you had brought, unfolding it to reveal a simple drawing of a crescent moon—an image that had always felt comforting to you.

Wednesday’s eyes softened as she studied the drawing, and for a moment, you both simply sat in silence. It was a moment of unspoken understanding.

Without quite knowing how it happened, your hand found its way to Wednesday’s, fingers brushing lightly against hers. The contact was gentle but electric, a silent acknowledgment of the bond that had formed between you.

Wednesday’s gaze met yours, her expression inscrutable yet filled with something tender. Slowly, she leaned in, her lips brushing against yours in a hesitant, yet warm kiss. It was a soft, fleeting moment that spoke volumes, a shared silence that encapsulated everything words could not.

When you finally pulled away, Wednesday’s eyes were still locked onto yours, a rare and genuine smile playing on her lips. The world outside seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you in your own little corner of understanding.

As you both sat there, the unspoken connection between you felt more profound than any words could ever convey. It was a silent promise of something more, a shared moment of intimacy that marked the beginning of something beautiful.

[astars-things]

luke having a daughter in college and she’s jsut the sweetest little girl who adores her dad and now with them bending in jersey jack really gets to see how great of a dad luke is with them living together for so much and the team is all so shocked how good of a dad luke is so young

Luke Hughes x Daughter!reader

In the bustling heart of New Jersey, the Hughes residence was a lively place, filled with the sounds of laughter and joy. Luke Hughes, the youngest of the three Hughes brothers, had taken a unique path in life. While still in college, he had become a father to a beautiful little girl named Y/N. Now, at 21, he was juggling the demanding life of an NHL player with the equally demanding yet infinitely rewarding role of being a dad.

Y/N was the light of Luke's life. With her curly hair, bright eyes, and infectious giggle, she had a way of making even the toughest days seem brighter. Every morning, Luke would wake up early to make her breakfast, often a messy but heartfelt attempt at pancakes, which Y/N would decorate with an overwhelming amount of syrup and sprinkles. She adored her dad and followed him around like a shadow, always eager to help or simply be near him.

Jack Hughes, Luke's older brother, had recently invited them to stay at his place in Jersey. With the brothers now playing for the same team, it made sense for them to live together, making the commute easier and allowing them to spend more time as a family. For Jack, it was an eye-opening experience. He knew Luke was a good guy, but seeing him as a dad was something else entirely.

"Uncle Jack!" Y/N's voice rang through the house one morning, her tiny footsteps pattering down the hallway. "Look what Daddy made me!" She proudly held up a lopsided pancake, grinning from ear to ear.

Jack laughed, ruffling her hair. "That looks delicious, Y/N. Did you help him make it?"

She nodded enthusiastically, her eyes sparkling. "I put the sprinkles on!"

Living with them, Jack saw firsthand how devoted Luke was to his daughter. He balanced his training schedule with quality time spent with Y/N, whether it was helping her with preschool activities, reading bedtime stories, or simply playing in the park.

One evening, after a grueling practice, the team decided to gather at the Hughes' place for a casual dinner. The players sprawled out in the living room, joking and talking about the day's drills. Y/N was in the middle of it all, comfortably nestled in her dad's lap, listening intently to the banter around her.

"Hey, Luke," Nico Hischier called out, leaning against the kitchen counter. "How do you do it, man? Balancing everything with Y/N and hockey?"

Luke glanced down at his daughter, who was now trying to braid his hair, and smiled. "It's all about priorities, Nico. Y/N comes first, always. Hockey is important, but being a dad... that's everything to me."

The team nodded, clearly impressed. They had seen young players struggle with responsibilities, but Luke seemed to handle it with a grace and maturity beyond his years. It wasn't just about providing for Y/N; it was about being present, about being a role model and a source of unwavering love and support.

As the evening wore on, Y/N grew sleepy. Luke gently carried her to bed, tucking her in with her favorite stuffed animal. He read her a story, his voice soft and soothing, until her eyes fluttered shut. Jack watched from the doorway, a newfound respect for his brother blossoming in his chest.

When Luke returned to the living room, Jack clapped him on the shoulder. "You're a great dad, Luke. I’m really proud of you."

Luke smiled, a bit shyly. "Thanks, Jack. It means a lot coming from you."

The team dispersed later that night, each player leaving with a new perspective on Luke Hughes. He wasn't just a talented defenseman; he was a devoted father, navigating the challenges of young parenthood with a strength and tenderness that left a lasting impression on everyone.