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bunnys-kisses · 4 months ago

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bunny's bakery orders - masterlist

updated: 08-17-24

hey, this is an attempt to make a masterlist of my works, i'm starting with my bakery series (since it is a smaller body of work)! these will be updated as more requests get filled! please note that all the works are smutty in content, so please read warnings and tags!

if you love these orders, feel free to read the submission post and order your own! i love the ones i've received so far and i can't wait to work on them! so please, submit all you want!

order up!

�� call of duty ❀

phillip graves: berry trifle ("wrong. try again.") + champagne (sugar daddy situation)

simon 'ghost' riley: chocolate chip cookies ("you're beautiful when you smile, but you're the prettiest when my cock is in your throat") + bubble tea (daddy kink)

könig: croissant ("i wonder if your father knows what happens during the off hours. if he knows you're here with me.") + crepe ("pretty girl.") + mille-feuille (“that’s it, fuck, that’s a good girl.”) + champagne (sugar daddy)

john price: mille-feuille (“that’s it, fuck, that’s a good girl.”) + mocha coffee (breeding kink)

simon 'ghost' riley: s'more ("The accent gets to you, doesn't it?") + chocolate milk (tenderness) + champagne (sugar daddy au)

john price: s'mores ("The accent gets to you, doesn't it?") + milkshakes (size kink)

simon 'ghost' riley: pound cake with strawberries ("you know i hate going over rules, but just because i like seeing you embarrassed, i'll tell you them again.") + bubble tea (daddy kink)

❀ formula one ❀

max verstappen: mill-feuille (“that’s it, fuck, that’s a good girl.”) + vodka shot (rough sex)

max verstappen: banana bread ("i'm going to fuck that sweet pussy of yours until the only word your little brain can form is my name.") + croissant ("i wonder if your father knows what happens during the off hours. if he knows you're here with me.") + hard lemonade (possessive behaviour)

lando norris: vanilla cheesecake ("where are your manners?") + tea (semi-public/public sex)

lando norris: mille-feuille (“that’s it, fuck, that’s a good girl.”) + hard lemonade (possessive behaviour)

lando norris: carrot cake ("swallow it. all of it.") + chocolate chip cookie ("you're beautiful when you smile, but you're the prettiest when my cock is in your throat") + custard tarts ("i've never done this before.") + mocha coffee (breeding kink) + espresso shot (dirty talking)

carlos sainz jr: banana bread ("i'm going to fuck that sweet pussy of yours until the only word your little brain can form is my name.") + nanaimo bars ("who's my pretty girl? c'mon say it.") + coffee (rivals) + vodka shot (rough sex)

fernando alonso: blueberry muffin ("i don't think it'll fit.") + mocha coffee (breeding kink)

carlos sainz jr: mille-feuille (“that’s it, fuck, that’s a good girl.”) + coffee (rivals) + shot of vodka (rough sex)

oscar piastri: berry trifle ('wrong, try again') + coffee (rivals)

lando norris: blueberry muffins ("i don't think it'll fit.") + hard lemonade (possessive behaviour)

max verstappen: apple pie ("now be good and beg. thank you.") + coffee (rivals au) + on the house/vanilla cheesecake ("where are your manners?")

lestappen: butter tart ("let's ruin ourselves for anyone else.") + coffee (rivals au) + on the house (aftercare

lewis hamilton: lemon slice ("i'm sorry, what was that? i can’t hear you over all that noise you’re making.") + coffee (rivals)

lando norris: butter tart ("let's ruin ourselves for anyone else.") + milkshake (size kink)

max verstappen: nanaimo bar ("who's my pretty girl? c'mon say it.") + tiramisu (“my little slut to ruin.”) + bubble tea (daddy kink)

max verstappen: scones ("but what if they see us!") + hard lemonade (possessive behaviour)

carlos sainz jr: sourdough bread ("i'm going to breed you.") + mocha coffee (breeding kink) + pine colada (pregnancy) + hard lemonade (possessive behavior)

toto wolff: chocolate cake ("do you feel that? that's what happens when i think about you all day.") + champagne (sugar daddy au)

max verstappen: sourdough bread ("i'm going to breed you.") + coffee (rivals au)

daniel ricciardo: chocolate cake ("do you feel that? that's what happens when i think about you all day.") + pina colada (pregnancy)

lewis hamilton: croissant ("i wonder if your father knows what happens during the off hours. if he knows you're here with me.") + root beer (filming/recording) + on the house (choice:size kink)

max verstappen: profiteroles: ("come away with me. for a week, together. anywhere you want, we'll go.") + champagne (sugar daddy au)

alex albon: mille-feuille ("that’s it, fuck, that’s a good girl.") + tiramisu ("my little slut to ruin.") + coffee (rivals) + glass of water (aftercare)

oscar piastri: crepe ("pretty girl") + mocha coffee (breeding kink)

max verstappen: profiteroles ("come away with me. for a week, together. anywhere you want, we'll go.") + honey cruller ("i forget how small you are sometimes.") + hard lemonade (possessive behavior)

lance stroll: lemon slice ("i'm sorry, what was that? i can’t hear you over all that noise you’re making.") + coffee (rivals au)

max verstappen: banana bread ("i'm going to fuck that sweet pussy of yours until the only word your little brain can form is my name.") + hard lemonade (possessive behaviour)

carlos sainz jr: carrot cake ("swallow it. all of it.") + tiramisu (“my little slut to ruin.”) + shot of vodka (rough sex)

lando norris: tiramisu ("my little slut to ruin") + champagne (sugar daddy au)

logan sargeant: banana and chocolate muffins ("i'm only doing this because you need to learn how to behave, rules are rules, and you need to follow them.") + on the house (choice: mafia au)

max verstappen: french toast ("you're trying to make me jealous!") + vodka (rough sex) + martini (mafia au)

lewis hamilton: chocolate cake ("do you feel that? that's what happens when i think about you all day.") + s'mores ("The accent gets to you, doesn't it?) + on the house: champagne (sugar daddy au)

max verstappen: lemon slice ("i'm sorry, what was that? i can’t hear you over all that noise you’re making.) + root beer (filming/recording) + iced tea (accidentally launching relationship)

lewis hamilton: blueberry muffins ("i don't think it'll fit.") + crepe ("pretty girl.") + on the house: juice (cockwarming)

lando norris: brownies ("you're so much more agreeable when you have something to occupy that mouth of yours.") + martini (mafia au)

lando norris: sourdough bread ("i'm going to breed you.") + martini (mafia au)

carlos sainz jr: chocolate cake ("do you feel that? that's what happens when i think about you all day.") + honey cruller ("i forget how small you are sometimes.") + espresso shot (dirty talking)

kimi rakkionen: berry trifle ("wrong. try again.") + s'more ("the accent gets to you. doesn't it?") + root beer (filming/recording)

max verstappen: cinnamon rolls ("no one needs to know.") + tea (semi-public sex) + coffee (rivals au)

jenson button: chocolate cake ("do you feel that? that's what happens when i think about you all day.") + whisky (degrading language)

oscar piastri: milkshake (size kink)

max verstappen: scones ("but what if they see us!) + juice (cockwarming)

toto wolff: banana and chocolate muffins ("i'm only doing this because you need to learn how to behave, rules are rules, and you need to follow them.") + whisky (degrading language)

charles leclerc: profiteroles ("come away with me. for a week, together. anywhere you want, we'll go.") + martini (mafia au) + juice (cockwarming)

lewis hamilton: churros ("if you don't shut that little mouth of yours, i will stuff it full. okay?") + martini (mafia au) + glass of water (aftercare)

toto wolff: croissant ("i wonder if your father knows what happens during the off hours. if he knows you're here with me.") + banana bread ("i'm going to fuck that sweet pussy of yours until the only word your little brain can form is my name.") + vodka shot (rough sex)

daniel ricciardo: blueberry muffin ("i don't think it'll fit.") + espresso shot (dirty talking) + vodka shot (rough sex)

oscar piastri: blueberry muffin ("i don't think it'll fit.") + milkshake (size kink)

max verstappen: vanilla cheesecake ("where are your manners?") + champagne (sugar daddy au) + root beer (filming/recording)

max verstappen: nanaimo bars ("who's my pretty girl? c'mon say it.") + martini (mafia au) + glass of water (aftercare)

carlos sainz jr: chocolate chip cookie ("you're beautiful when you smile, but you're the prettiest when my cock is in your throat") + root beer (filming/recording)

toto wolff: vanilla cheesecake ("where are your manners?") + berry trifle ("wrong. try again.") + bubble tea (daddy kink) + milkshake (size kink)

fernando alonso: croissant ("i wonder if your father knows what happens during the off hours. if he knows you're here with me.") + mocha coffee (breeding kink) + champagne (sugar daddy au)

charles leclerc: chocolate cake ("do you feel that? that's what happens when i think about you all day.") + berry trifle ("wrong. try again.") + on the house: coconut water (alternate universe - university au)

632 notes · View notes

zepskies · 1 year ago

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Smoke Eater - Part 15

Pairing: Firefighter!Dean Winchester x F. Reader

Summary: Dean Winchester is the cocky, but well-respected Lieutenant at Firehouse 25. He leads by example, but he’s also known to break a few hearts. He’s starting to crave something he’s never had, though. Something stable. Something real.

That’s when he meets you, on a truly terrible day, trapped in a rickety old elevator.

AN: Thank you as always for the lovely responses on the previous chapter! It was a long one, so thank you for sticking through with me. We're about to lighten up a little with some Christmas spirit! ❄️🎁

**Also, if you're a fan of The Boys (and Soldier Boy), there's an awesome book you can check out, called Supes Ain’t Always Heroes: Inside the Complex Characters and Twisted Psychology of The Boys.

If you want to learn more about the book (including cast interviews and a character study on Soldier Boy), I wrote a review about it here!

Otherwise, on to some more firefighter!Dean!

🔥 Series Masterlist

Word Count: 5,800 Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Smut, fluff, tinge of angst, hurt/comfort, lots of feels.

Part 15: “The Good Part”

“How many damn arrests does that make?” Daniel asked. He gripped his pool cue with both hands while he leaned on it.

His son stood at the other end of the pool table, lining up his shot. He paused to think.

“Six,” Nick replied. His cue released, and it knocked two of his balls into the pocket.

“Six,” Daniel repeated, while Nick came his way to find an angle for his next turn.

Daniel shook his head. His lips were angrily pursed. His eyes might’ve been on the pool game, but he was playing chess in his mind. He had underestimated John Winchester for far too long, it seemed.

The man was stubborn as all hell. And he’d been busy lately, getting “Azazel’s” men busted for all manners of bullshit.

“Alastair’s mole says Winchester’s been calling in favors from his old friends in Narcotics, trying to bust our small fries,” Nick reported. “Getting them on everything from petty theft to drug possession, with intent to sell. But it’s nothing we can’t pull ‘em out of.”

“Time, money, added risk,” Daniel cited on his fingers all the reasons why John Winchester was a pain in his ass. “It’s only a matter of time before they get a warrant to rip apart Savage & Co., sweep the whole damn building. For forensic evidence, our files, all the jazz.”

Daniel’s fingers drummed thoughtfully against his chin. “A damn cop thinks he’s being cute.”

Nick missed his second turn. His hand fell against his thigh in annoyance, but he looked up.

“Dad, it’s your move.”

Daniel rubbed at his chin. His eyes were no longer seeing the board in front of him. Eventually, they slid up and met his son’s gaze.

“We’re going to start from the beginning,” he said.

Nick’s face gave away his confusion. “What? What do you mean?”

Daniel just smiled.

It was Christmas Day, and John was late. Sam and Dean were used to that drill, so they weren’t expecting him until dinnertime.

Meanwhile, it gave you a chance to find your footing as you got to know Eileen. She had helped you bake the pies that were now cooling on the counter (pumpkin and berry crumble), and a few of the side dishes for dinner. Sam had covered cleaning up the rest of the house, while Dean tackled his favorites: the ham and the mac and cheese.

Now the guys were in the living room watching football while you and Eileen were still in the kitchen, decorating some gingerbread cookies you two had made. She enjoyed it; doing holiday crafts with her students had been bringing out her artistic side, she told you. You were happy for the help and the conversation.

You later tried to cover up your snort of laughter as she finished telling you the story of how Dean once dared Sam to wear women’s underwear for a whole week.

If he managed it, Dean had promised to do all the household chores for three months. If Sam couldn’t make it the whole week, then he would face the consequences: Dean would tell their dad about the bet.

“How old were they?” you asked.

Eileen scoffed. “Sam was a senior in college.”

You burst out laughing again. “So too old, is the answer… Did he win?”

Eileen gave you a mischievous smile.

“He did,” Dean said, as he appeared in the kitchen doorway with a familiar smirk. “I’ve got photographic evidence. It was a cheetah print thong, in case you were wondering.”

Your eyes widened on a laugh. “Oh my God.”

Cheetahlicious, you couldn’t help joking in your mind. Even if you’d rather not think of Sam wearing a pair of Victoria Secret’s best.

Eileen giggled with you. Dean’s amusement gave way to curiosity as he eyed the little gingerbread men you two were icing. You warned him off with your eyes, but it took Eileen batting his hand when he tried to steal a cookie.

“Hey! Wait ‘til after dinner,” she said.

Dean pouted. “Come on, don’t be stingy.”

Rolling her eyes, Eileen sighed.

“You’re like one of my kids,” she said, while signing with her hands. But she caved and handed him a cookie. “Here. To tide you over.”

Dean smiled and signed back to her in ASL, Thank you.

“That’s why you’re my favorite,” he said. He leaned down to kiss her cheek in a brotherly gesture.

He shot you a wink before taking a bite of his prize. You shook your head at him, even though you were smiling. He came around to your side of the table. His hand rested on your back and he bent down towards your ear.

“I actually came over for you,” he said. “Got a minute?”

Your brows rose, but you turned to Eileen in askance. “I’ll be right back. Is that okay?”

She nodded and made an “OK” gesture. “Of course.”

You smiled and let Dean lead you out of your chair, and even out of the apartment. He made sure you both grabbed your coats by the front door.

“Where are we going?” you asked. While you put on your coat over your sweater and jeans, you didn’t notice him grabbing two sets of keys.

“Just downstairs. No big deal,” he said, hefting on his own leather jacket.

You eyed him with some suspicion, but you walked with him down to the elevators and let him keep you close to his side. He smelled like the cologne you bought him for Christmas, and he was already wearing the new watch as well.

You’d struggled to find him the right gift. Nothing felt quite enough after everything he’d done for you the last few months. He’d assured you that he was grateful for both gifts, and had even tried to say the watch looked too expensive. (You’d shut him up with a kiss.)

Now, you had to wonder what he was up to as he led you into the parking lot, but not toward Baby. Instead, you two stopped in front of a shiny silver Chevy parked in a guest spot.

“Dean, what’d you do?” you asked, both excited and worried. He shot you a grin and dangled the keys in front of you.

“You like her?” he asked. His eyes were dancing. “You could keep her, if you ask nicely.”

Your face slackened. You looked between him and the sleek looking car.

“What?” You covered your mouth with both hands. Even after a few moments, your brain was still having a hard time computing. “No…what? Oh my God!”

You grabbed onto his jacket, just in case your legs failed you. Dean laughed and gathered you up in his arms. By the time you peeled your eyes away from the silver beauty to look up at your boyfriend, there were tears already swimming in your eyes.

“Dean, this is really too much. Where’d you find—”

“Bobby had it sitting in his garage for years,” he explained. His hand came up to brush your cheek, and the tears there. “I cleaned her up, dropped in a new engine, safe-proofed with new tires, new airbags, the works. Got her purring like a kitten.”

Your eyes grew a little wider with every admission. Then you softened, gripping the edges of his jacket while you bit your lip to keep it from wobbling.

“How much did he sell it to you for?” you asked. Dean dropped his head back with a sigh.

“Don’t you wanna take a test ride before we start hagglin’?”

You lightly smacked his chest. “Hey. How much?”

He let out another heavy sigh, but you eventually got it out of him. While the price wasn’t as bad as you might’ve expected, you still shook your head.

“I still have a decent chunk of insurance money left. I’m giving you at least half,” you said.

Dean shook his head. “This is my gift to you.”

Your lips pursed, despite the smile that wanted to peek through.

“Nice try,” you said wryly. “You already got me perfume.”

“That was just the decoy.” He grinned, and held you a bit tighter against him. He nodded towards the car. “She’s the main event.”

You wanted to sigh, but this conversation wasn’t over. You were definitely not letting him buy you a whole new…old car. You turned to look at it again.

“What model is this?” you asked.

“2002 Camaro Z28,” Dean rattled off. It sounded impressive, but you didn’t know much about cars.

He let go of you so you could get a closer look. Your hand passed over the hood, but didn’t touch, as if you were afraid of staining the paint with your fingerprints. He had to admit, he’d waxed it up good and managed to get rid of a lot of superficial nicks and scratches.

What he said was true though; Bobby had given him a frankly ridiculous deal. Because when Dean had told him what you’d been through after the car accident, dealing with your grandfather’s passing, and now your ever-mounting expenses, Bobby hadn’t let him walk away from Singer Salvage with anything else but this car. He’d even helped Dean get the new parts he needed to fix it up.

“Is it automatic or manual?” you asked, trying to peer through the driver’s window. “I haven’t driven stick in a hell of a long time.”

Dean came up from behind you and his warm hand found your hip. You let him draw you back into his arms, leaning against his chest.

His lips were close to your ear when he said, “I think you’re damn good at driving stick.”

It took you a second, but the heavily laden innuendo in his deep voice was hard to miss. You uttered a laugh and swatted his arm.

“You’re ridiculous,” you said. You were still smiling when you turned and twined your arms around his neck. Then you leaned up for a kiss—one that kept getting deeper with the full force of your gratefulness, and your love for this man.

“It’s an automatic,” he answered, between kisses. You giggled against his lips.

You barely felt the chill on the air. Your heart was beating fast, even when you pulled away from him. Your eyes slowly opened and met his. He smiled down at you and curled an errant strand of hair behind your ear. As usual, you had most of it clipped up.

“Merry Christmas, sweetheart,” he said. His voice was quiet, but steady.

You let out a shaky breath. Emotion was clogging your throat, making your tears burn anew.

“This is a bit more than a Christmas present,” you said. He gave a more self-deprecating smile.

“Well, it’s also kind of an apology,” he said. “For getting you mixed up in my ‘family business.’”

He still felt guilt beyond belief for putting you in danger. For your life being threatened. For being the reason you couldn’t go home.

You just shook your head. Your hand raised to press against his cheek. Your thumb drew tenderly along his chin.

“I thought you said you were part of my family now?” you said. “We’ll figure this out together, like everything else.”

Dean’s eventual smile lightened you, and his kiss warmed you down to your toes.

“If you want, let’s go for a ride after dinner,” he said.

It was your turn to smirk. Your hands migrated under his jacket and teased at his belt.

“Well, I’m certainly down for a ride,” you said.

Dean laughed and squeezed your hips. “All right. I’m puttin’ you on my naughty list.”

When John finally arrived, the brothers welcomed him in first with big man hugs and good-natured ribbing for him being so damn late.

In Sam’s words, Upholding a Winchester family tradition.

John had taken that with a chuckle. “Smells damn good in here.”

“Yeah, food’s been done for an hour,” Dean prodded at him again. His grin betrayed his teasing, however. His welcoming hand stayed on his dad’s shoulder until they reached the living room, where Sam had set up a longer fold out table and chairs to function as the makeshift dining room, since the table near the kitchen only seated three.

There you were opening a bottle of Jack Daniels. You smiled up at John.

“Figured you were more of a whiskey than wine kind of guy,” you said. You were a bit nervous to see him again, no doubt with flour in your hair and frosting staining your hands. He clasped your shoulder with a hint of a smile.

“You’d be right. Good to see you, darlin’,” he said.

“You too,” you replied. Despite the fact that the first and last time you two had met, it had been in front of your house as the police rifled through your life, looking for more explosives. He graciously didn’t bring that up as he greeted Eileen next.

Once dinner was on the table, there was a lot of catching up between the brothers and their father while you and Eileen continued talking, even through dessert.

“This really is amazing,” she told you, pointing her fork at her slice of berry crumble. “I can see why you went to culinary school.”

You blushed as Sam, Dean, and even John echoed her praise. All three men had generous slices of both pies.

“Well, thank you. I’m glad you guys enjoy it,” you said, and your smile was genuine.

You loved making good food, but you loved feeding people even more. Whether it was a simple hearty soup or a rich dessert, you liked putting smiles on their faces and giving them a good experience; one they could share with their family and friends. Even better if it was your family.

Or as Dean would say, Your people.

To you, that was life.

“I’m tellin’ you, if you opened up a bakery you’d make a killing in this town,” Dean said. He nudged your hand with the one that held his fork; it held a precarious piece of pumpkin pie.

You shot him an amused look.

“Don’t you look at me sideways, I’m serious,” he said, laughing a little, but his gaze was steady.

Your cheeks warmed against your will. He believed in your dream, even when you couldn’t quite let yourself.

“Hey, if you ever want to look into applying for a loan, I could help,” Sam said, earning your attention. “I have a friend who works at a bank.”

Your brows raised. “Really?”

He nodded. “Yeah, we were pre-law together back in college, but he figured he was better with numbers.”

You smiled. “Well, it would make it easier knowing I was dealing with your friend.”

“Yeah, his name’s Brady. Let me know if you want me to call him,” he said.

You bit your lip, but you nodded. “Thanks. I’ll let you know.”

Maybe they were right. Maybe you should start to believe in yourself, just a little bit more.

“This was all real delicious,” John said to you, when you came back from bringing the leftovers to the kitchen.

Sam and Dean were already arguing about who was doing the dishes and who was drying them. Meanwhile, Eileen was putting away the food (and probably rolling her eyes).

“Yeah, it was a team effort for sure,” you replied. “Dean’s actually a really good cook.”

John chuckled. “Yeah, well, he didn’t get that from me. I can barely boil a damn egg.”

You smiled to yourself; you could imagine Dean got it from his mother then.

Meanwhile, John was watching you stack the empty plates as he grew more contemplative. He’d always been proud of his sons. They were good men, with strong heads on their shoulders.

He often looked at Sam and saw that he seemed happy. Despite the demands of his job, he was learning to balance that with the life he led with Eileen. As a father, John looked forward to the day when they made a firm foundation, taking the next step towards building a life together.

But Dean had seemed to him, a little unstable. John was still proud of his eldest, but while he’d seen a glimpse of it that day at your house, he saw it even more today. Like his son finally had an anchor, tethering him to dry land.

Even so, he couldn’t help heaving a sigh. And he asked you something he knew he shouldn’t.

“Have you given any more thought to filing a report on Nick Savage?” he asked.

You paused in your plate and cup stacking. You looked up at him with a frown, but you thought about your words before you said something rude.

“Yes, I did,” you replied. “I decided my life and my peace were more important.”

He let out a short sigh. “I understand—”

“I’m sorry, John, but I don’t think you do,” you said. Your words were matter-of-fact, if a tad more sharp than you meant them to be. Your hands were starting to tremble.

You crossed your arms to try and steady yourself, but Dean ended up doing just that, by joining your side and resting a hand at the small of your back. He was frowning, glancing between you and his father.

“Tell me you’re not talking about what I think you are,” Dean said, addressing John in particular. “Not on damn Christmas.”

“Like you said, it’s her decision,” John replied. His gaze once again focused on you.

You let out a breath, mostly of exasperation.

“I’m going to bottom-line it for you. If I report that man, and you can’t guarantee me a job and safety until it’s all over, then I’m not poking the bear,” you said. “I plan to keep my head down until I can find another job. Until then, you can have at him all you want. Just leave me out of it.”

Part of you felt selfish. You knew what John was trying to accomplish, and you knew how personal this fight was for him, and for Sam and Dean for that matter. You just couldn’t shake your gut instincts here. You knew Nick far too well by now, and you didn’t want to underestimate him again.

“I agree,” said Dean. You gave him a grateful look.

John conceded with a nod, but all of you knew he wasn’t satisfied. It became a bitter ending to an otherwise brilliant day after he left for the night.

In your mind, it wasn’t quite over yet though. You had a plan up your sleeve for one Dean Winchester.

Sam and Eileen had their own time together while you and Dean went for a drive in your new car. You’d have to transfer your plate and registration and insurance, so it was technically an “illegal” drive, but it was already late and traffic was scarce.

By the time you pulled back into the parking lot, you were smiling from ear to ear, and Dean was giving you that smug grin that said, Aw yeah, I did good.

You couldn’t even fault him for it, because he did exactly that.

Even when you and Dean were getting ready for bed, it didn’t quite feel real. You were living with your boyfriend of just a few months, you now had a new car, and a crime lord had threatened your life.

You chose to focus on the new car. And on your boyfriend, who sat on the edge of his side of the bed, rubbing his right shoulder through his shirt. You knew it must still be sore, though he likely wouldn’t admit it.

Hence, you were about to enact Phase 1 of your plan…

You hadn’t undressed yet from your jeans and sweater, but you crawled across the bed to come up behind him and drop a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“How’s your slugging arm?” you asked.

Dean quirked a smile at you over his shoulder. “Just fine.”

“Dean,” you said. Your tone was gentle, but warning. No downplaying.

You pressed your lips against the side of his head and soothed your hand along his shoulder and down his arm. Still, he was resistant.

“I’m fine, sweetheart,” he said.

You hummed. “Okay. I guess you don’t need a massage then.”

He paused. His head tilted just so, once again turning to you over his shoulder. You spied the edge of his piqued interest, his grin.

“Well, if you’re offering…”

You withdrew your hand from his arm, but you spoke close to his ear.

“Are you asking?”

He let out a small sigh, despite his lingering smile.

“All right. Will you please give me a lil’ massage?” he asked.

He couldn’t see your triumphant smile, but you happily kissed his cheek.

“I sure can,” you replied. You laid gentle hands on his shoulders, however briefly. “Stay right here. Don’t move, but take off your shirt.”

“All right, Miss Bossy,” he grumbled. You knew he was teasing by the amused look he threw your way.

“I thought you liked that,” you teased back.

You climbed off the bed before he could playfully grab you, and you giggled all the way to the bathroom. There you began Phase 2 of your plan.

First, you collected a few different bottles from your designated drawer under the sink. Then, you made a quick wardrobe change, after popping back into the bedroom to grab something from your nightstand.

You also connected your phone to the speaker on his nightstand and put some music on a low volume. It was a playlist he’d made and shared with you a while ago, with songs he thought you’d like. The Eagles’ “Take It to the Limit” was definitely on the list.

By the time you returned to Dean, he was indeed shirtless, still in his sweatpants, and checking his watch.

“I’m here, I’m here,” you said. You climbed across the bed with your small haul—a difficult feat with your hands full, but you managed.

Dean turned to look at the bottles of moisturizer you dropped next to him on the bed. He rose a brow.

“Twilight Woods. Japanese Cherry Blossom. Appletini. Are these my only options?” he asked. His face was half bemused, half reluctant.

You almost burst out laughing. “Which one strikes your fancy?”

He scratched the back of his head. You opened the second bottle first (your personal favorite), so he could smell.

“Not bad actually,” he muttered. You bit your lip so you wouldn’t giggle, but you managed to open the other two for him to get a whiff.

“Eh, the first one I guess,” he said.

Japanese Cherry Blossom. AKA: a classic from Bath & Body Works.

You finally had to laugh. “Just kidding. I’ve got this.”

You held up a jar you’d been hiding behind him. Its logo said: Massage Oil.

“I just wanted to see which girly moisturizer you secretly wanna slather all over yourself,” you said.

Dean shot you a wry look, but only then did he see what you were wearing.

“Oh, hold up,” he uttered.

Your hair was let loose, how you knew he liked, and you’d teased it out a little. You’d had to give away the red lingerie you’d bought, to rid both of you of its lingering memories of your work Christmas party. Instead, you’d found something in a vibrant emerald green: satin and lace.

Dean’s hand reached for your waist, probably to bring you closer. But you playfully slapped his hand.

“Eh-eh! Not yet,” you said to his surprised face. You smiled. “I have a plan for you tonight.”

Slowly, he smirked. His eyes still dipped to take in the rest of you, from your pretty face, to exposed skin and cleavage, to shiny satin that clung to your curves and draped down to mid-thigh.

“I can see,” he said. His voice was a notch deeper. “Merry Christmas to me.”

Despite your blush and growing smile, you turned him back around by his shoulders.

“Just relax.”

You let your hands drift up the back of his neck to slide your fingers through his hair. There you began with a slow, gentle massage of his head. You felt him take a deep breath.

You couldn’t see it, but Dean’s eyes had closed at your ministrations. He secretly really liked the feeling of your fingers running through his hair. It made his shoulders loosen; with tension he didn’t know he had releasing from the neck down.

Aside from the rigors of his job, he also had to work out and condition his body to keep up his stamina. He probably didn’t spend as much time as he should on this aspect of things, making sure he wasn’t overtaxing himself.

He appreciated what you were doing though. He knew you cared about him, that you loved him. But he liked that you were also a caring person, who tried to take care of him. Dean hadn’t really had that…from anyone before. Sometimes, it was hard for him to let you.

…Damn, we really got too much in common, he realized.

When you migrated back down his neck, your hands left for a moment to gather up some oil. It was warm against his skin when you started between his shoulders, digging with the heel of your hands.

He groaned deep, surprising even himself.

Behind him, your brows were furrowed. “You’re really knotted up here. When was the last time you had a massage?”

Dean chuckled. “Never.”

You frowned. “Hmm. Okay, we’re definitely doing this more often.”

“No complaints from me,” he said with a grin.

Of course, you gave special attention to his right shoulder. You were gentler there, asking what was tender and what felt good, or too much. By then you had an easier time getting the truth out of Dean. He let you know when the pressure was too much, and you even helped him stretch out that arm until the muscles and joints were warmed up and the pain was gone.

You encouraged him to lie on his stomach in the middle of the bed, so you could start on his back. Your hands glided down planes of muscle and smooth slopes while you straddled his thighs. The only sounds you heard from him were occasional moans and rumbling, pleased sounds. That was also what let you know that he hadn’t fallen asleep.

“Okay, turn over,” you said, smiling when he groaned in protest. “I haven’t even gotten to the good part.”

“What the hell’s the good part then?” he asked. His voice was muffled in the mattress, but when he turned around, flopping onto his back, his eyes once again took in the green satin and seemed to remember what your real intentions were.

“Oh, yeah,” he said. His grin was lazy, now that he was beyond relaxed, but his hands found purchase on your hips. You smiled down at him.

You let the remaining oil on your hands glide up his chest, until you lowered down for a kiss. It was unhurried and sweet.

“I love you, you know?” you said.

Dean swept his fingers through your hair, tucking a few strands behind your ear.

He smiled. “I’ve got some idea, yeah.”

You both laughed, soft and true. Your hand rested against his cheek as you pressed your lips to his, soft and slow at first, but soon gaining in both passion and urgency. You felt his grip on your hips tighten, grinding your center against his growing length.

He groaned. No goddamn panties on. Good.

You kissed your way from his lips to his neck. Your teeth grazed his ear while you rolled your hips into his. It was a tease for both of you, but not for long, as Dean grew impatient enough to slide his sweatpants down, followed by his hands slipping under the satin covering your thighs. They traveled further still, squeezing your breasts and rolling hardened nipples under the pads of his thumbs.

Your breath hitched, and your pleased hum was music to his ears. By now you were bracing yourself against the mattress, but you used his shoulders as leverage to raise yourself up.

You took his hands and encouraged them to bunch up the satin and pull it over your head. Dean sat up with you still in his lap, and once his strong arm wrapped around your waist, it was skin to flushed skin.

You held his face and brought him down to you for another fierce kiss. He held you tightly against him, hands splayed across your back and tangling in your hair. His arms were a cage you never wanted to escape.

But you did press away from him, just for a moment, so you could reach down between your bodies to take a firm hold of his cock. You guided it to your entrance. There was already a small flood between your legs, and your core ached for him.

There was almost no resistance when you slowly sunk your hips down and down, until he was buried deep inside you.

You both made sounds of pleasure, with labored breaths as Dean’s hand cradled your cheek. He laid open-mouthed kisses to your jaw, teeth grazing down your neck.

You clung to his shoulders and began to move, slow in the way you let almost the full length of his cock escape you, before you slid back down. Dean moaned into your skin, and you let out a shuddering sigh.

You pushed at Dean’s chest until he was lying back, and you continued rolling your hips against his. He helped you create a steady rhythm on top of him, but he was being treated to a feast of the eyes as well as the pleasure rocking through his body. He watched the way you swept your hair back. The way your eyes closed and brows furrowed in concentration as you bit your lip.

But he couldn’t stay still for long; he knew he was close enough to practically taste his end, but you had some miles to go. He gripped your thigh with one hand while the other glided up between them, to further part your folds. His fingers found your clit, circling insistently like it was a button. It had your hips stuttering.

“Oh, God,” you uttered. “Dean—”

He managed to smirk through panting breaths. “Right there, right baby?”

You nodded, unable to speak. You continued to move as steadily as you could, but the feeling of him deep inside combined with his talented fingers playing you like a five-string guitar—it finally made you tighten on him, shuddering deep inside. Tingles broke across your skin, zipping up your spine as you gasped.

Dean helped you with the last few hard thrusts that brought him along with you, and you felt his warmth spilling inside you.

It was a heady feeling, and you needed a moment just to recover. Even though you were on birth control, every time he came inside you still felt like a dangerous, delicious game.

But after you slid off his lap and practically rolled into his side, him welcoming you with an arm wrapping around your waist, it did make you think, as you caught your breath.

It made you think about the first time you and Dean slept together. It had been the first and last time you’d asked him to wear a condom. The next morning, he’d made a remark that still hung in the back of your mind…

“You like kids, huh?”

The thought still rattled through your mind now, after you and Dean shared a quick shower, ridding you both of the oil clinging to your skin. The thought remained when you slid into bed, under fresh sheets and thick covers, and close to your man. He cupped your cheek and pressed a kiss to your forehead. You closed your eyes at the feeling.

Contrary to what this night had been, the whole “moving in together” thing hadn’t been all that easy. You two had bickered about the way he often left drawers and cabinets open and dirty clothes on the floor.

He had made remarks about your hair products taking up too much space in his drawers. Not to mention how morning routines needed to adjust because Dean liked to shower in the morning, but you needed the mirror not fogged up in order to do your makeup.

Right now, however, you had peace. You felt safe here, and you weren’t alone in a huge house filled with far too many memories.

“Can I ask you something?” you said.

Dean’s lips lingered on your forehead. “Hmm?”

“I know this situation is sort of temporary, me living here,” you said. “So much has happened that we haven’t really talked about…what we both want, down the line.”

He pulled back enough from you to see your face. His face betrayed a thread of confusion.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“I mean like…” you hesitated, but you realized you were probably going to have to be direct. “Are you a marriage and kids kind of guy? Is that even something you’ve thought about?”

Dean met your gaze. It took him a moment, but he let out a short sigh.

“You wanna know what made me want to start dating, for real?” he asked.

You blinked; you hadn’t expected that, but you nodded.

“I started thinking about what would happen if something happened to me on the job,” he said. You frowned, but before you could say anything, he raised a placating hand.

“I thought about what I’d leave behind,” said Dean. He quirked a wry smile. “It’s not much, besides my car.”

You frowned in earnest. Your hand flattened against his bare chest.

“That’s not true,” you said. “You have your brother, your father, and your friends. That’s plenty, Dean.”

He conceded that with a nod. “You’re right. But I just started thinking, maybe I want more. Like uh…like what my parents had, when they were happy. The house, each other, me and Sammy…a family.”

You couldn’t be certain in the near total darkness of the room, with only the moonlight filtering through the blinds and casting a glow behind him, but you thought you saw a shine in his eyes. Your hand crept up from beneath the covers to find his cheek. It was rough with stubble, yet you tenderly swept a thumb back and forth.

“I think that’s beautiful,” you replied.

Dean paused. He then huffed in amusement. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you smiled, hoping he could see it.

“Then uh, is that something you’d be into?” he asked. You were amused by his tentative approach.

“With you?” You pretended to think. Your fingers slipped into his hair. “Yeah, I think I’m into that.”

He chuckled. “Okay, then. Good to know.”

He grasped your wrist and turned his head to press a kiss into your palm.

And he spoke into the dark. “I love you too, you know.”

Your smile deepened as you rested your head against his arm. You whispered into the small space between your faces.

“Yeah, I’ve got some idea.”

AN: All righty, how'd you like that fluff overload?

...Ready for some more drama? 😏

Next Time:

But the more you thought about what you’d heard, and Nick’s ominous threat about a cop, you found yourself scrolling lower in your contacts. You called John Winchester.

It rang a few times, and all the while you made silent, fervent prayers. Pick up, damn it! You could hear your own heartbeat in your ears.

“Winchester,” he answered.

“John, it’s me,” you whispered. “Azazel’s here. Or, he’s not here, here, but I know who he is. Well, I mean kind of—”

“Okay, wait. Slow down,” he said. “What about Azazel? You know who he is?”

Keep Reading: PART 16

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Series Tag List (Part 1):

@hobby27 @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb

@vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses @roseblue373 @this-is-me19 @emily-winchester @spnexploration @deans-spinster-witch @deans-baby-momma @iprobablyshipit91

@melancholictearz @nic-kolas @katherineann814 @sleepyqueerenergy @wayward-lost-and-never-found @thewritersaddictions @just-levyy @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @deanwanddamons @antisocialcorrupt @lacilou @adoringanakin @theonlymaninthesky @teehxk @midnightmadwoman @brianochka @branj19

@agalliasi @venicesem @chriszgirl92 @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @solariklees @xsophianicolex @deansbbyx @candy-coated-misery0731 @curlycarley @sarahgracej @bagpussjocken @ultrahviolentart @chernayawidow @beskarfilms @mimaria420

#The Good Part #Smoke Eater #Part 15 #dean winchester #Firefighter!Dean Winchester #dean winchester x reader #Dean Winchester x female reader #firefighter!Dean Winchester x Reader #dean winchester x you #firefighter AU #dean winchester AU #spn #supernatural #Sam Winchester #eileen leahy #john winchester #zepskies writes

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theblueflower05 · 2 years ago

Text

The Sweetest Sylaung

A/N: So I def didn’t mean to write a novel long Neteyam smut story but here we are. Debating on making this a mini series. Also the anon that requested a “curvy” reader insert- here ya go!(she’s also an Augustine- buttttt you can only see that if you squint lol)

Word Count: 6k+

Warnings: This is smut. Pure smut. Please don’t read if it is not your jam. You are in charge of cultivating your own online experience, you’ve been warned!

Pairing: Aged Up! Neteyam x Human!Curvy!Reader

Summary: After an “accidental” romp in the forest, you do your best to avoid Neteyam. It’s for everyone’s good, or so you’ve convinced yourself.

“I’m begging for you to take my hand, wreck my plans. That’s my man”- Willow, Taylor Swift

The kaleidoscope of colors explode under your eyes in endless patterns and shapes as you look over the sample of Pandora flora under the heavy duty microscope. This particular piece of the Moons terra had never been discovered before, only blooming at what you estimated to be every ten or so years, under the right monsoon like conditions

At least that’s what you had discovered so far.

The flower, which sprouted into a berry, and then dissipated into a moss like cluster of microorganisms all within its short life cycle had turned into your passion project. You we’re doing your thesis on it, the last step in getting your Masters.

You’d gone through schooling on a computer screen, guided by the greatest minds on Earth that had relocated to Pandora. Scientists of all fields who you’d grown up around. None of them had been surprised when you’d picked up botany. Xenobotany to be exact.

It was in your blood.

The desk your at shakes violently- disturbing your precision like focus. Breaking you straight out of your zone.

“Ugh” you groan, frustrated, raising your head, eyes narrowing at the culprits.

Spider, Lo’ak and Kiri freeze like deers in the headlights of your fury. Spiders arm raised, a wad of paper balled up in his hand, aimed to shoot. He lowers it slowly as the weight of your your heavy gaze zero’s in.

“Sorry, cu-”

“I told you guys, if you cant behave to get the fuck out” You seethe. Your nerves are paper thin anyway. Too much screen time frying your brain something fierce as you focused in on your studies. “Is that not what I said, verbatim?”

“You need to chill. You’ve been so high strung lately. Come hang out with us” Lo’ak suggests smooth and unhelpful. As usual. “When was the last time you left the lab?”

You roll your eyes and bite your tongue, trying not to say anything to scalding to the surprisingly sensitive Sully brother. “No thanks. I’ve gotta focus”

“Maybe Lo’aks right” Kiri starts, her face screwing up as she speaks “Eywa that sounds wrong. Nevermind, My brother is never right- but you should come hang out with us. Let’s go swimming- the watering hole is over flowing from the storms”

The deep sigh through your nose isn't calming, even though you pretend it is. You know they mean well, in the most annoying way. That you’d been buried in books and paperwork in the lab for the past couple months.

Hiding from the outside world within the thick walls of Hell’s Gate.

“Can’t. This is important, Kir- but why don’t you guys head down there? Its closer to Home Tree and its almost curfew anyway” two birds, one stone. Its a smart suggestion- but Kiri’s face falls, shoulders sagging and ears lowing. That look had always gotten you-

“I cant today, but maybe tomorrow? The samples are too fresh and I don't want to put them on ice…But I think Max made those Yovo cookie things” That’s only half of the truth, but luckily Kiri’s always been understanding.

She grabs your elbow in her long fingers and tugs you along.

The mess hall had seen better days, but the large open space still tends to be the meeting ground for the humans that were allowed to stay and inhabit the moon. With twelve foot tall ceilings and airtight exits and windows that lead out to the Avatar Program training yards. Its a common room of sorts, a place where everyone gathers. For meals, for mismatched Holidays. But mostly for gossip.

I mean, what else is there to do?

Like currently, you’re deeply engrossed in the story that Doctor Martinez’s, Xeno-Zoologist is recounting. All dramatics and dirty intimate details “It’s true, they’re gonna bring it before Mo’at and everything”

He’s talking about Trevino and Eital’i.

Everyone had heard the whispers, seen the not so subtle signs. The main Radio Tower operator had turned during the resistance, had fought beside Jake and had been allowed to stay on Pandora- better stuck on a foreign planet then thrown in a familiar jail cell. Trevino’s a cool guy, really.

A cool guy who had been sleeping with a Na’vi woman, apparently. The two had kept it under wraps, really private. No one could pin down how or when it happened,,,but to go to the clan’s Tsahik seeking a mating blessing? That’s major.

“You’re lying” you accuse in a gasp as the table breaks into whispers, all wide eyes and shaking heads. “They’re going to mate?...How?”

“It’s not like it hasn't happened before” Another scientist chimes in casually. Like it’s a known thing.

Which it kind of is.

Taboo, yes. But not unheard of, more like untalked about.

Humans and the Na’vi of the forest had lived in close quarters since the overthrow of the RDA. Jake, the standing Olo’eyktan, just had a little too much homosapien in him. Yeah, he’d survived the soul transfer and fully inhabited his blue body- but he never quite grew out of his human roots.

It had been hard, lots of politicking and good grace shown on both parts, but somehow, like all biomes in the vast perma green forest, all had learned to live in harmony. Most Omitikaya kept their distance. Very hesitant about the human presence. They had every right to be scared, hostile. Scarred by man and its weapons and its destruction.

Others had been raised in close proximity to Grace’s school. Had become accustomed to the nearly two decade long human presence on Pandora. Curious and accepting.

You’d heard about interspecies hookups.

Locker room talks that left your ears burning and your heart racing. It usually came from members of the Avatar Program- It tends to set a precedent, when the quote on quote “royal family” of the Omiticaya is a Jarhead and a native woman.

Na’vi are gorgeous, tall and lean but humanoid enough to be familiar…you’re not exactly sure what they see in humans but you know damn well what you guys see in them.

“How do you think that works? The…physicality of it all I mean. Trevino doesn't have an Avatar. How do they fuck-”

You’re not the only one zoning out from the conversation and it’s lewd turn.

You watch Kiri watch Spider and your heart aches for her. What they have is secret, delicate and forbidden. As a woman with high standing in the clan, you knew that her feelings for the boy wouldn't go anywhere. Couldn't.

When they we’re kids, it was cute. Now that they 're both technically adults, it was just plain stupid.

You tell her of the fact, often.

Kiri tells you to stop projecting.

———

The Sully Kid’s are always late. It’s like no matter how hard they try, they cant make curfew. You throw on an Exopack, hurrying them to the fence.

“Yeah, yeah okay mom. Take it easy” Lo’ak shrugs huffily as you yank hard on his arm. “I’m going, Y/N!”

“Not fast enough you strumbeast’s ass! You’re gonna get me into trouble, who do you think your dad’s gonna blame when you guys end up back at Home Tree super late again? Norm chewed me out for that shit last time!” You man handle the much taller than you alien.

Kiri and Spider a few leagues in front of you, already at the mouth of the giant fence. They’re awkward, not in their usual synched steps. You wonder how much of that conversation earlier had gone to their heads?

You’re bickering with Lo’ak, an extremely normal occurrence. He can be a real douche. and had been kind of insufferable lately. You think its nerves about his impending Iknamaya.

So engrossed with getting them on their way home that you don't even notice him until it’s too late.

Neteyam is a skilled hunter, through and through. The youngest in the clan to ever make a kill. Swift and quiet. Beloved.

But around you he feels out of his element. Clunky and awkward, no matter how hard he tries to play it off its like you can see right through him. Its scary and thrilling, sets his stomach alive with butterflies everytime. This is no different.

Showing up to Hell’s Gate to retrieve his siblings was something he had done since he was a child.

He’d used to bleed hours away playing with them at the scientists fortress, but as he had gotten older and his responsibilities had grown heavier- he had little time for it. Still, when ever his parents would send him out on a one man search party to bring them home, he’d jump at the chance.

At the hope of seeing you.

You’re arguing with his little brother, trying not to laugh at something he said and Neteyam knows. He knows he shouldn't feel jealous but he just cant help it. Cant help the acidic twist of his insides.

Especially when he chirps out his family's familiar call, letting his presence be known.

And watches that pretty smile fall right off of your face.

“You’re late, as usual” His voice has a stern edge. It’s annoying, the role he has to play. Kiri is a woman grown, Lo’ak just weeks away from being the same. He doesnt blame them for the way their feathers bristle, almost viscerally.

“Ah, big brother you didn't have to come all this way to get us” Kiri reassures, patting Neteyam on the chest good naturedly. “We we’re just about to be on our way”

Neteyam notices the way you try to look anywhere else but him. It stings because he cant stop looking at you, cant pry his eyes away from your form.

“You all should start heading back before dad notices” Neteyam starts. His father had been busy as of late, harvest season abundant and fruitful this year because of the heavy rain season “I’ll catch up, I need to speak with Norm”

“What? Dad cant use the coms now, he has to send his messenger” Lo’ak’s nose scrunches a little, always questioning. On a normal day it wouldn't affect Neteyam so much, just a normal jab from his snot nosed little brother.

Not today. Not when he’s stretched so thin. Not when you refuse to look at him but are staring at the side of Lo’ak fat head. It feels wrong, makes his skin heat up to the point that it feels itchy and tight.

“That's none of your concern. Head back to Home Tree. Now” He doesn't normally throw his weight around. But he feels the need to puff up big in front of you “Those are orders. Get out of here”

Lo’ak’s less offended and more surprised. One of his oh so human eyebrows cocks, a sly remark in his throat before he scoffs. “Aye, Aye Captain Kiss Ass. C’mon Kiri let's go. See you later Spider, Y/N”

He deuces up Spider, gives Y/N a pat on her small shoulder and glares harshly at his brother before he disappears into the thick brush of the jungle.

Kiri wraps her arms around you in a strong hug, muttering about ‘swimming’ and ‘promises’. The small impish smile she shoots Spider gives YOU butterflies so you don't blame the way he swoons, before she’s off behind her younger brother.

“I can go find Norm for you, bro. I think he’s still out in his Avv, but Max can radio him back in” Spider is none the wiser. Doesn't notice the heavy tension that simmers on a low bubble. Oblivious, as usual.

“Yeah, sure” Neteyam replies, barely sparing the human boy a glance. He’d feel bad for it later, when he could form coherent thought. When his brain wasn't on Y/N issued override.

Spider chatters, good natured. He never got to see the Olo’eyktan in training anymore. He missed his homie.

“Well, I should be heading back. You guys have a good rest of your night-” You’re already turning on your heels when you make the announcement, eager to get back inside. Back behind the safe walls of the lab- far away from Neteyam.

“No”

Neteyam who stares at you with all too knowing eyes. He looks straight through you like he can see through your clothes, through your thinly veiled escapism attempts. He reaches out, wraps his long fingers around the top of your arm and tugs you back to him. Gentle, but very firm.

He doesn't have to say it- it’s written all over his face. Not this time. He’s not going to let you run away from him.

“Netey-” You start in a whine, tugging on his hold. He doesnt relent, if anything his fingers tighten as his eyes narrow. Dangerous, desperate.

“Just talk to me” it’s a barely concealed plea, his tail twitches anxiously behind him “I'm just asking for five minutes. Please Y/N”

Spiders oblivious, yes. Stupid? No. He doesnt know exactly what's going on between the two of you but has clued into the fact that it’s heavy and he wants no part of it.

The excuse he makes is shit- he’ll just go find Norm. Yeah… he’s so out of there.

“What is wrong with you?” You hiss as you watch Spiders awkward, quick retreating form. Eyes flickering over the empty for now training yards “So much for keeping it lowkey, huh? Could you be anymore obvious?”

“What’s wrong with me?” Neteyam is almost shaking with disbelief “What the fuck is wrong with you? You havent talked to me in over a month. Everytime I make any kind of attempt you bolt. I dont-” He sighs, pinching the wide bridge of his nose with the hand that isnt holding onto you.

He looks tortured. Tired. Run a little ragged.

Beautiful.

“I don't know what I did? If this is about that day in the forest-”

You sigh at his words, once again pulling on his hold. Shaking your head desperately because you can't.

You can't talk about it. Fuck, you’ve been trying not to even think about it.

And failing as you replay the event over and over again the darkness of your bunk. Hyper fixating on the way that his lips had felt against yours. Oh the way that his big hands had worked your body over

“Don’t” you whisper “Please don’t”

You’d never been one to beg for pity, for mercy but that’s what you do now. Beg him to let you out of his tight clutches. Metaphorically and physically.

“You’re all I can think about” It's a gutted admittance, but Neteyam makes it all the same “That night- I can’t sleep. I can barely eat- I’m falling behind on my duties because I keep coming back here. Standing outside this fence and waiting for you. I know you could hear me over the coms, right?”

And you could, a few weeks or so ago.

When he’d begged you to come out. To come speak to him. His voice so appealing that you’d almost caved. You’d had to turn off your receiver. Had sat with your head in your hands for hours as you fought the urge to crawl to him, knees raw and your bloody heart on a platter only he could divulge in.

He shuffles closer, all lean strong muscle. Firm, unmovable. “You heard me”

“Of course I did”

“And you still left me out here” He scoffs, head shaking slightly as his adams apple bobs, his ears are pinned to the sides of his head in obvious distress “I could never do that shit to you.”

“One of us needs to be the adult in this situation” Your voice is as strong as you can make it. Trying to speak reason on to both of you “We can pretend it never happened and go back to the way that things were before. You’re my friend, Tey”

You reach up, stroking at his wrist. Trying to soften him enough for him to let this go. Let you go.

He’s trying to control his breathing, all that training for all of those years for what? One fragile human girl to make him completely unspool? To lose any and all composure he’d worked so hard to gain.

He was always the adult, in all situations. Had been born with a neck cramping crown on his head. Shrouded in pressurized glory.

“If this is me being childish, so be it. Where has pretending gotten you, huh? Look at you, yawntutsyìp. you look so tired. When was the last time you slept? Kiri says you spend days in the lab without resting”

His hands, both of them, come up to cup your face. Huge and calloused. Yet he holds you like you're something precious. A small animal, a rare gem. His whole entire world since he was just a boy.

Neteyam thumbs at the cool glass of your mask, tenderly. The bags under your eyes are sunken and bruised. “Don’t shut me out”

Your body, in its entirety, clenches at his words. Velvet and sincere. He’s a fucking dream. Your head leans into his hands, neck sagging of its own accord as any and all words of protest leave your weak mind.

He makes you so easy.

“Let me in…I dont want there to be this distance between us anymore” He hisses around the word distance. Hating even having to say it “I want to be inside of you again”

Your plump lower lip gets skewered between your teeth, eyes screwed shut as you remember the last time. Your first ever time being full…you’d dreamt of it every night since it had happened.

If it wasn't for the blasted mask and your need for Earth’s oxygen he’d kiss you. Right here right now. He didn't really give a shit who saw or what they had to say.

Instead pulls you into his chest, lets you wind your arms around his lean middle and bury your chest in his diaphragm. Its as close as he can get you, for now. Makes you cling to him the way that he’d clung to every thought of you for the last weeks.

You wish it was lungfuls of his skin that you were taking as you try to bring yourself down from this abrupt shaky high. You dont get it, how your relationship couldve flipped this hard in such a short time.

He had always just been Neteyam. A shameless flirt yes- but that’s all it was.

“Would you like that?” He questions, hands working through your hair. Fingers light and soothing on your scalp. Massaging the thoughts right out of your head.

“Hmm?”

“If I was inside you again?” He presses on. You can feel the tickle of his long, thin, tail as it wraps around the back of your calf and you groan, digging your nails into his back.

“You’re such an asshole. Stoppppp it” You’re embarrassed and turned on and already feel stupid enough, he doesn't need to rub it in. His chest shakes as he chuckles.

“I’m serious. Tell me you want it-”

“Neteyam! Hey!”

The two of you break apart in an instant. You jump away from him as though struck by lightning. Instantly putting enough distance between you and the Na’vi that maybe, just maybe an onlooker might think that the embrace was friendly.

It’s Norm, having heard that the eldest Sully was looking for him he’d come eagerly.

The smile you plaster on is forced and honestly, Neteyam doesnt fair any better. He’s obviously flustered, just glad that his erection isn't tenting his tweng.

“Spider told me you and your dad are looking for me. I’m not intruding on uh anything, am I?” Norm looks between the two of you.

Your arms are folded tightly over your chest and Neteyam is rubbing at the back of his neck, strong jaw flexing as his teeth grind.

Oh yeah, Norm had definitely interrupted something.

Knows for sure as you scurry away. As Neteyam, always so level headed, has to string together words. Stumbling a little bit as he tries to remember the message that Jake had relayed.

It’s not any of his business, he thinks at the time. He sure didnt want to be the one to shine the light on whatever the hell was going on here. Turning a blind eye to the mysteries of Pandora is the only way to survive the harshest terrain known to man.

———

You dont know that though-

No, you’re spiraling more a little bit as you prepare yourself for bed. Brushing through your thick hair and staring out into space as your mind assaults you with all of the gnarly ‘What If’s’

Norm had seen and he had to know right? Oh god, what if he told Jake?

You balk. Lowering the brush as your eyes bulge out of your head.

What if he told Neytiri?

That's actually a super horrific thought. Like nightmarish. You have a lot of respect for the future Tsahik...

…And a very healthy does of fear. She didnt like humans and made it known. She tolerated them only for her husband's benefit. What if she found out that her eldest son, her golden boy, had fucked one?

You’re freak out is interrupted by static, by the beeping of your com receiver on your night stand.

“Y/N?” its Neteyams muffled voice through the device. You’d ignored it once. You should ignore it again…

“Yeah?” you wonder if he picks up on how shaky you sound through the receiver.

“Tomorrow night meet me at the East Gate. Like when we we’re kids” he’s not really asking. Not demanding either. You could ignore him again, but he has to try.

The line goes silent, quiet for minutes on end.

“Y/N?”

You’re so stupid. “What time?”

You can hear the grin he’s sporting as he replies “0100”

“Got it, over. Good night, Neteyam. Go to sleep”

———

The East Bay is on the other side of the large fortress-like building. It's not that it's forbidden, or anything. but it is deserted. It’s where the military personnel had inhabited, and since most if not all of them had gotten the hard boot off Pandora it was empty as a ghost town in these maze like halls.

When you we’re younger; you’d caught Spider sneaking Kiri and Lo’ak in through the rarely used entrance. You’d demanded the know how, if he didnt want you to rat on him for it. It was a rare occurrence, but the Sully children had all been snuck into Hell’s Gate this way over the years.

You type in the codes, disabling the alarm system in order to usher Neteyam into the pressurized, air lock. You’d toted one of the Avatar Exopacks along for him, they’re heavier then hell but he’d need it.

“Hi” you smile, suddenly shy as the tall Na’vi man stands before you.

That's what he was now. A man, not only in the eyes of his people but as a whole. Broad and muscular, strong. Verile. The next leader of his people. You know that he’s highly desired in his clan. Women fawn over him. Vie for his attention.

It doesnt feel real that he wants to give it to you.

You’re nothing special. Not tall and stunning like the Omaticaya women. Even by Earth’s standards you're short, curvy. Not particularly pretty. Insecurity gnaws at you, as it so often does.

“C’mere” Neteyam urges, boldly yanking you by your waist. Pulling you flush against his body. Grabby and insistent, he wants to feel your bare skin. All plush and soft, hes been dying to taste it since the last time.

Kicking himself over and over for not savoring every bit of your body that you gave to him. He won't make the same mistake again.

He’s not gonna lie, the concrete and metal of the walls inside of Hell’s Gate have always made him a little claustrophobic. But he can't do this outside-

His lips capture yours, demanding and needy from the jump. Big, over powering, he swallows your little chirp of surprise. Devours any and all breath from your lungs. Its messy and so good. You hadn't gotten to kiss him last time.

His mouth tastes amazing, his tongue rough in texture just like you remembered. It grates your lips as you suck on it-

“Hey, slow down a little bit” You giggle as Neteyam paws at your ass, lifting you off the ground until you squirm hard, making him release you “Not here, we can't do this here there’s cameras everywhere”

“I don't care” Neteyam pecks all over your face, trying to recapture your mouth as you avoid him “Let them watch, most of those pervs would like it”

And they would know that you’re his. The thought is beyond heady.

You gasp as his sharp canines ghost over the delicate skin of your neck, nibbling on your pulse point “Please- Neteyam”

You firmly push him away, hand on his chest and maybe if you hadn't cut him off cold turkey he would've given you space. Could've pulled away for a moment to let you say your piece. Instead the idea of letting you pull away even an inch is unbearable to him.

No. instead he tosses you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. He hauls loads heavier then you every day, your protests mean little to him. With his free hand he scoops up the Avv Exo Tank,

“Where to, yawntutsyìp?”

Where too is an old conference room. Its as good as any, and Neteyam yanks a couple cushions off the old couch to act as a brace for your head as he lowers you to the floor, flat on your back.

You’re so pretty like this, he tells you of the fact.

With your hair a mess behind you, your face free of that damned mask. Grinning up at him as you rub your thighs together. He wishes he had that camera that his dad liked to take pictures on. He wants this moment of you framed, immortalized.

“I hate sky people clothes” He mutters as he tugs on the hem of your t-shirt. It hides you, hides all that skin he craves.

“You want me to take it off?” You offer eagerly, raising up enough to start peeling the piece of clothing off. You’re bare underneath, completely. Your breasts jiggle as they’re freed, nipples peaked in the cool air-conditioned air.

“Don’t ever put it on again” He demands, taking it from your hands and tossing it across the room. He’s dead serious, but by the way you're giggling you obviously think its a joke.

He can’t help it, he dives in face first. Rubbing against your soft breasts, obsessed with the way they feel. Heavy, pillowy. He drags his tongue across all of your bare skin. From your clavicle to your nipple. You always smell so pretty, but its got nothing on the way you taste. It explodes bright and savory on his tastebuds.

You let him explore, until your spit soaked and shaking. Your panties sticky as your hips search for any kind of friction. “I need you”

“You have me, my love. All of me” your eyes water at his words. At the sincerity. At how much you want them to be true.

You grab one of his hands and drag it down your chest. Past your soft, rounded belly and into your shorts. He grunts as you guide him to where you’re wet and pulsing. Rythmetically clenching around nothing.

He circles your clit, feather light. More of a tease then anything and you want to sob. You’d thought of nothing but this, touched yourself imagining him. “Tey-”

He smiles around a mouthful of nipple,tugging on with his teeth. “I missed you so much”

“Then be nice to me” you plead, trying to shove yourself down on his fingers.

“We’re being nice now? Were you nice to me when you ignored me?” he can't help it, hurt bleeds into his voice. It had been so fucking painful, knowing that you hadnt wanted to see him. To be with him.

“I’m sorry” you whine, grabbing his face, pulling it from your bosom. “I’m so sorry. I was so scared- I’m still scared but I need you”

He lets you cup his cheeks, lets you plant kisses all over him. The bridge of his nose, his eyelids, his cheekbones. You dote on him, gentle and caring and he gorges himself on your love.

“You cant ever do that again, okay?” He shivers as you kiss his ear, running your tongue along the hyper sensitive flesh “If you’re scared you come to me, not run from me. Do you understand?”

You nod, eager. “I promise, Neteyam”

It’s all he needs to hear, that you’re his. That you won't deprive him of your presence ever again. He doesn't know what he’ll do. He’s a little scared of the man he becomes when it comes to you, you’re not the only one frightened by the gravity of your feelings.

“You asked if I wanted you inside me again? Yes. So much. I never knew I could be that full” it’s like you know just what to say. You light him up from the inside. His fingers begin circling your sopping clit again, this time with intent.

It’s blurry, the fact that your lightheaded making it hard to think. To track what he’s doing to you because somehow Neteyam seems to be everywhere at once. His big body all encompassing as he takes you.

“No-no marks, baby” You try to remind him and his blazing eyes zero in on you in a glare “you know we cant…not where they can see”

You’re right, and he hates it. He’ll just have to mark you where only you can see. Where you can look at your self and be reminded that you belong to someone. That you belong to him.

He doesn't have the patience, cant stop his hands from shaking- the tear of your shorts and panties echos around the room as he removes any barriers between him and the heat at the apex of your thighs.

You cant help the thrill it sends down your spine. He’d…ripped your panties off. You thought shit like this only existed in bad Earth made Porn that you’d found on one of the labs computers.

“Sorry, sorry” his apology is far from sincere though and you can't help but giggle, patting his braids fondly.

The fingerfucking is rough, your wines and moans spilling from you as he hits spots inside of you that make you want to curl up. It’s too good. Too much-

You screech, back bowing as he bends to kiss you, loud and sloppy, right on your wet clit. His big head burrows between your thigs as he delves on your cunt, his long rough textured tongue lapping at the fat puffy lips. The texture difference has both of you groaning.

It’s heartbreakingly good, the kind of good that you’ll never be able to forget. That you’ll crave and need for the rest of your life. Addictive, as he dedicates himself to making you feel pleasure.

Neteyam eats pussy the same way he does everything else in his life, exceeding any expectations. His instincts sharp as he hones in on how to make you lose your mind.

He keeps telling you how good you taste, breaking away for heaving breaths before he reburries himself. The only sounds in the room are the beyond wet sloshing of his tongue lashing and the pathetic noises your making.

He’s eating you alive, you don’t know how you’re supposed to survive this.

His fingers, two and then three fuck in and out of you. Corkscrewing as he loosens your tightness up for him.

“O-ooh” you whine high and reedy as you feel your tummy tightening, the pressure building in a way that makes you feel like you cant breathe. You cant your hips, shoving them down at that perfect angle “Oh, sh-shhhhit. I’m gonna, I’m-”

He doubles down and you’re a goner.

The orgasm is devastating. Sofuckinggood you think you might see stars for a minute there. You can't even scream, you keep letting out these little cries that are more like wheezes. A desprate attempt to get some kind of air back in your lungs-

Which reminds you.

Even though you’re in a daze you wiggle away from him, he hisses at you about it but you swat the top of his head as you reach for the Exo Pack.

You shove the mask in his face, between your legs.

”Breathe, Neteyam” you demand him to gulp down the Pandoran air. Yeah, he could go longer in your environment than you in his but still. Death by giving head isn’t the way you’d like him to go out.

He takes long breaths and you try not to be embarrassed by how soaked his chin is.

When he pulls away his eyes are a little more focused “Thank you, sweet girl. Always thinking about me, huh?”

You nod, dropping the mask. Closer this time for easier access. His eyes quickly zero back in on your swollen pussy, on how wet he got you. On how pretty it looks. His mouth is watering all over again-

When you try to close your thighs, the burning of your cheeks getting to be too much he hisses again. It’s not a sound he often makes and it’s a revelation, he’s so sexy. Almost feral.

“Who said I’m done?”

You’re never going to be able to get over this man “I already came?...”

“Yes? So?” he rolls his eyes, lowering his head, nuzzling at the damp juncture of your inner thigh “You’re still so tight, here feel”

His fingers slip back in you and you mewl, baring down as he scissors the long digits.

“We have to get you loose enough to take me, I don’t want to hurt you” He explains it like you need convincing. Like he has to convince you to let him eat you out. You just re-spread your thighs, relaxing back onto the cool floor as you let him do as he pleases.

It takes two more orgasms that you scream and shake through until he deems that you’re ready. By the time that he begins to slide his cock into you you’re a blubbering, oversensitive mess. You’re crying rivers of tears as you cling to him.

“Hold my hand? Please ” You request and he smiles, kissing your tear streaked cheek as he interlaces his longer fingers with yours.

Humans and Na’vi can fuck, but we’rnt designed to. His dick is overwhelimgly big and will really injure you if the two of you aren't careful about this.

You both gasp sharply as his tip breaches you.

It hurts, it’s agonizing. It’s the kind of pleasure pain that you didnt even know could exist. Everytime you think you can adjust, he pushes in another inch. But oh, how you missed it. Being so full it feels like you’re going to burst. You’re pussy flutters as it fights to take him and you focus in on his face.

It’s all scrunched up in heavy concentration. His lips speared between his sharp teeth in a way that has them almost bleeding.

You can't have that. You tug him into a kiss, soothing the abused flesh with your tongue.

“I-I dont want to hurt you” He whimpers as his forehead rests against yours.

“It’s okay, you’re okay” You hum to him, grasping at his hand even tighter “I love what you do to me. I love how you feel”

When he bottoms out you think he must be in your ribs. Hes still, letting your body get used to him. Trying to be kind. You want to tell him that there’s no getting used to his size. That he could fuck you every day for the rest of your lives and he would still feel just as massive.

“Please” you wail instead “please”

The first gentle snap of his pelvis has you both reeling. Your thighs lock around his thin hips, urging him. You can take it. It only takes a little urging for him to lose himself. The harsh stretch of it has you shaking as your over sensitive pussy tightens. You’re coming again, less intense the the previous orgasms, thankfully.

Neteyam had been so focused on making you feel good that he’d neglected his hard, weeping cock. His balls are so full that he knows he’s not going to be able to draw this out.

You know you have to look stupid, mouth hanging open as you raggedly gasp for breath, letting out punched out sounds as Neteyam pounds into you. You cant look away from his face though.

It’s mesmerizing, all of it. The sounds he lets out. The way that his braids sway with the rhythm of his pleasure seeking body. His broad shoulders, bulging biceps and forearms- you are so fucked.

You’re so in love.

“Please Y/N” He wheezes as you squeeze around him, letting go of your hand so he can wrap both of his arms around your lower back “I can’t hold it. W-where should I?”

Oh. Oh, he’s the sweetest man. He always has been.

You peck his lips, not minding that he’s too lost in his own pleasure to really kiss you back

“Come inside me. Come inside me. Come inside me” it’s a heated chant, broken and breathy by the erratic rhythm of his hips and he buries his head in your neck, wailing in the skin there.

Just for a moment, lost in the haze of sex, you can tell he forgets his own strength. Thrusts into you so hard that you scream out in pain, the mushroom tip of his long cock batters your cervix relentlessly. Its a sharp, startling sensation that you’ve never known but you ride it out for him. Desperately trying to keep your whimpers of discomfort at bay.

When he comes, his whole body goes still and ram rod straight. He hugs you tightly to him. You wish you could see his face. Next time, hopefully.

He’s Neteyam, the mighty warrior. The dutiful son. The next clan leader but as he shakes and twitches and basks in the afterglow you can't help but want to baby him. But stroke his back softly, rubbing the residual tension out of his tired muscles.

He’s your big ol’ pussy cat, you’d always teased. He purrs like one every time you’re affectionate with him.

You can’t help but run your hands along his sensitive spine. Let the length of his tail run through the loop of your fingers. He grins and flicks it from side to side. He’d always thought your fascination with it was amusing.

“Are you okay?” he mutters, still hidden in your hair as he starts to come back to himself and you hum, moving up to pat his braids.

“Mmhmm” you’re maybe not as capable of making words as you though you were. He chuckles and hugs you. Holds you in his big arms in a way that makes you feel untouchable.

The two of you lie in that room for as long as you can, until he has to start heading back to Home Tree, it’s almost morning and his parents are early risers. They’ll look for him if hes not in his tent…

It's hard. Letting him go. Even though you know he’ll be back. You keep pulling him back in for kisses, holding onto his muscular arms until he laughs and peels you off of him.

“I’ll be back my love. I’ll always return for you”

You frown but agree, pushing him away to get re-dressed- “How am I supposed to go back like this! Neteyam I don't have any pants!”

He’d shredded your shorts and panties. Literal tatters of cloth are all that’s left.

Neteyam cracks up, almost keeling over. Thinking he’s oh so funny. It lightens the situation and makes letting him go- watching him disappear back in the forest a little easier.

You end up having to pull your fortunately oversized t-shirt down as far as it can go as you make a mad dash across the facility, back to your dorm. You fall asleep grinning, thinking about how the panties had been a necessary sacrifice.

———

Norms on late night watch, keeping a bored, admittedly not sharp enough eye on the security camera’s feeds. With the rainy season, came an influx of Slinths’. It made sense to have a lookout, and somehow he’d gotten saddled with an overnight shift.

He’d definitely fallen asleep for a few hours. Not that he’d tell anyone of that fact.

There is nothing that could prepare him for what he see’s on the screen, over in the desolate East Bay. First, he thinks that he’s hallucinating, his sleep bogged eyes playing tricks on him.

He rubs them hard with his knuckles, not believing the image that is large and clear on the security footage.

It’s Neteyam. Inside the facility which almost never happened. And he’s bending down, his lips locked with Y/N’s . Kissing her hard and long before she punch’s in the code, and opens the air locked door to let him back out into the shadowy eclipse.

Norm’s learned a lot living on this strange moon- Pandora was mysterious. Full of things his brilliant mind would never understand. So he does what he does’ most of the time.

Minds his own business.

So I’ve had this idea cooking for months, but didn’t have the bandwidth to get it written down. The ideas wouldn’t translate to page and I still kind of feel like they didn’t butttttt whatever. This is pure self indulgence. I am so much more in love with Neteyam now. He is SUCH a good guy. Ugh.

Also, please remember that my requests are OPEN! Send in all that good shit. Come blue alien brain rot with me!

#neteyam x reader #neteyam smut #avatar neteyam #aged up neteyam #neteyam x you #avatar smut

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writingsbychlo · 1 year ago

Text

SWEET LIKE SUGAR | 02

summary; after an awkward breakfast and some clarification, you and azriel take the next step in your agreement.

word count; 8091

notes; y'all I hope you love this, it's pretty much just 8,000 words of pure fluff, it's adorable. I love this series so much.

When the sunlight first hit your eyes, you groaned, twisting your face to bury deeper into the pillow. It wasn’t usually the direction that sunlight came in through your dingy window, warmth cascading across the wrong side of your face, and you dragged your hand up to cover it.

Some day, you’d be able to afford curtains to properly block it out. That little indulgence just surged up a few places on your mental list. Before your hands reached your face, however, cool darkness blocked it out, your hand skimming across the mattress lazily, and one eye cracking open.

Before you, like a swirling mass of darkness, was a tendril of shadow. Twisting slowly in the morning light, dancing between golden sun-rays and blocking it from your field of you. Your body jerked, a slight shriek falling from your lips as you scrambled back across the bed, bracing yourself to fall over the edge and hit the floor.

You never did. The plush mattress seemed to stretch on and on, your body aching and protesting the sudden movements from where you’d still been on the cusp of sleep.

The shadow looked almost amused, dancing along the streams of light and closer to you, meeting the mattress and slithering its way across the comforter towards you. At the first cold brush of it across your knuckles, the fog cleared, and your memories all seemed to come flooding back. It was some kind of blur, sweet smiles and towering wings and the taste of berries and warm spices like a memory across your tastebuds.

Hauling your legs up to your chest, you bent forward, until your forehead could press to your knees, and took several deep, shuddering breaths. Your toes curled in the bedding, still warm, the smell of mist and fresh earth lingering around the room, like the smell of the air after it rained, calming and soothing and cool. When you finally lifted your head again, you could take it all in.

There, still sitting atop the chest of drawers was your dress, folded neatly just as you’d left it. The tray of tea and cookies had been cleared from the stool at the end of the bed, but the plush cushioning still held a slight imprint of where it had sat all night.

The shadow was back, splitting into two and whirling around each side of your face, the touch of them light like a ghost, smoothing over your skin like a feather, and your lips twitched a little at the edges.

“You scared me, y’know.” The spiral they made around your fingers when you lifted a hand was like a silent snicker, and you watched them form ever-changing patterns across the surface of your skin, playful and sweet. “I’m not used to waking up and finding the shadows moving.”

The windows were shut, no gust filtered through the room, but the shadows in the room all seemed to sway once, like a breeze through curtains, shimmying back into place, and a gasp held in your throat.

“Am I supposed to leave now?” Your heart clenched a little at the thought, and though Azriel was nowhere to be seen now, you knew he must be somewhere, he wouldn't have just left you here in his bed. The shadows banded around your wrist, the darkness in the room seeming to pulse for a moment, and your brow inched up. “No? Am I supposed to stay?”

The flicker of shadows seemed like a far more empathetic yes, and your smile stretched more.

“Well, then, where is your master?” If you didn’t know any better, you’d have sworn the shadows bristled at that, a sense deep within you telling you that they’d give a disgruntled huff if capable, and your chuckle blew them like powder on the wind. Detangling from our arm, they blew across the air, before reforming from mist and hovering in a swirling column near the bedroom door.

The carpet was plush underneath your toes as you stood, stretching your arms high above your head, feeling your joints ease happily into the day after sleep on such a comfortable mattress, nothing like your own. One step after another, you seemed to inch silently across the house, no creaking or cracked floorboards, and the door clicked softly out of place as you twisted the knob open.

The shadow moved, darting away from you like a flash of black, and you glanced around the corridor, tracking each direction. Nothing seemed to give away where you should go, the maze of corridors and doorways looming along each direction was dizzying, and you wished you’d paid at least a little attention last night when Azriel had guided you through the house, instead of staring at his back muscles and blushing. That same blush played on your cheeks now as you thought about it.

Hovering at the end of the hall to your right was the shadow, bobbing almost impatiently in the air, it's twirling like a ballerina’s ribbon increasing in speed as it hurried you along, and your footsteps were rushed as you chased after it before it disappeared again. By the time you reached the end of the hall, though, it was gone, and you peered around the corner just to be met with more halls.

Hovering by an open-arch doorway, your guide traced the patterns on the wood, playing in each dip and rivulet, and the rest of the shadows along the hall fluttered towards it, encouraging you to keep going. As you neared, the smell of bacon hit your nose, warm and salty and enough to make your stomach grumble, and you licked across dry lips at the thought of it. That same shadow darted down, smacking across your forehead lightly and bouncing off, spinning through the air toward a set of stairs at the end of this room.

You followed them down, down, down, until the carpet gave way to cold wooden floorboards, and more shadows seemed to slither along the bottom floor of the house, like lazy puddles that barely dared to shift or glance up as you passed by.

The first few you tried to avoid, hopping around and past them, before it was impossible, and you were stumbling through clouds of darkness that merely shifted around your ankles, reforming on the other side, entirely unaffected by your presence.

At last, you found the kitchen, a room you knew, following the shadow, and the faint humming of a deep voice, accompanied by the popping of oil in a pan. Standing before the stove, miles of tan skin and dark leathery wings on display, Azriel stood before the stove, shirtless as he cooked, and leaving the few pale scars across his back exposed to you to observe. They were nothing like the ones on his hands, the uncontrolled and swirling flesh he’d been branded with. These were precise and clean, nicks from blades and arrows, even a few slightly puckered that seemed to mark the lashings of a whip, almost faded into the depth of golden skin now.

“Didn’t anyone ever tell you that it’s rude to stare?” A deep voice uttered, even more so than it had been the night before, and you felt the slight tremble of your legs with the rasp of it. Throaty and thick, his morning voice still hadn't cleared, and you wondered once again how this man could possibly be single, could need to resort to making a deal with you; the absurd deal he likely regretted once the sun had risen.

“Good morning.” You mumbled, watching as he turned, a wide smile on his face as he put out the flame on the stove, the sizzling of the bacon slowing without heat. When he moved, you could see the contents of the pan then, your mouth watering. Not just bacon, but sausages too, and eggs. He stepped toward you, revealing more of the counter, a plate of toast and butter, ready to go.

“You hungry?” He teased, shifting to grab for the kettle, and pouring some tea into an empty mug, before adding a dollop of honey into it. Making his way over to you, you could only nod, watching all the stacked, towering muscle of him closing in on you, until your back was pressed to the doorframe, head tipped back to look up at him. The teasing grin faded to a smile as he pressed the warm porcelain into your hands. “I cooked for you.”

“Very kind of you.” Your whisper was shared in the space between you both, and he raised a hand to tuck some stray hair behind your ears, before stepping back. His eyes flickered across every inch of your face, observing, analysing, and you hoped what he saw was what he wanted.

“You feelin’ okay? How’d you sleep?” The words were thrown over his shoulder as he made his way to the kitchen island, tugging out a stool and tapping it, a silent order to take a seat. Your feet were moving before your brain had even caught up, sinking down onto the tall stool and bracing your elbows on the counter, still clutching the mug.

“I slept better than I have in a long time. Maybe ever. You have a very comfortable mattress.” Words tumbled from your lips before you could stop them, words that made you feel like an idiot, a fool— until he laughed, a soft chuckle under his breath, eyes sparkling as he turned to face you.

He passed over a plate, piled high with more food than you could possibly eat, before his own followed to the seat opposite you, and he sunk onto it. “I’m glad to hear it.”

Cutting into the meat on your plate, you could only offer a smile in response, choking back your embarrassment to cater to the hunger growling within you, and focus on your food.

Several moments passed in silence, nothing but the loud ticking of the grandfather clock in the hall, the scraping of cutlery on the plates, and the occasional rustle to break the tension. Eventually, it was all too much.

“We should probably talk about… it.”

“By ‘it’, do you mean our deal?” Azriel grinned, smirking a little as he popped another forkful of toast and egg into his mouth, chewing and staring at you, like you were supposed to start this conversation. Putting down your knife and fork, you crossed your arms over the marble countertop in front of you, settling the nerves quelling in your stomach that was almost making you nauseous.

“Look, Azriel. I really appreciate everything. Seriously, I can’t tell you how much it all means to me. You’ve been like some kind of guardian angel, sent to me when I needed you most, before I forced myself to do something I’d never be able to forgive myself for.” The smile slipped from his lips slowly, a more serious look taking over his face, and you rolled back your shoulders, willing yourself to be strong, and taking a deep breath. “However, I’m not the sort of person to take advantage of you, of any of it. So, I’m giving you an out. I know how bargains work in this court now, so surely I can give you a way to undo it.”

He stared for a second, chewing his mouthful slowly, and his gaze upon you seemed to narrow as he swallowed. Then, he took a sip of his tea, still staring at you across the rim of his mug, and your whole body felt electrified. Reaching up, you rubbed slowly across the back of your neck, feeling nothing of the mark that had formed there last night, and making a mental note to look for it later. “I don’t accept.”

“What?”

“I do not accept your out. I don’t want it.”

“You— You have to!” You burst, and he only shrugged, cutting off another piece of toast and dragging it across the juices on the plate, before stuffing it into his mouth.

“Well, I’m not.” He spoke around his food, and you stared at him helplessly. “Now, eat up. I know you’re hungry, and I can make more if you still want something else after.”

“Azriel,” You started, and he stared pointedly at your food, like this conversation wasn’t going any further until he saw you eat. You’d barely started your meal, and he was halfway through his. With a grunt, you cut off a large chunk of sausage and bacon, shoving it into your mouth less than gracefully, and wiping at the droplet of grease that was making its way down your chin. He only grinned at you.

“I’m not accepting your out, because I don’t regret making that deal. Not even a little bit. I will give you an out of our deal, but only after you let me talk. Will you?” You were still chewing, slightly regretting your passive-aggressive portion, because you could only nod in response. “I don’t regret our deal, because when I woke up this morning, I was happier than I have been in a long, long time. That’s because of you. Do you know what I woke up to this morning?”

You could still only shake your head, wincing as you tried to choke down the mouthful with at least a little decorum.

“I woke up to the sound of your heartbeat. You were lying in my bed, one hand still around me, and my head was on your chest. I lay there for a good fifteen minutes just listening, and feeling, and loving it. Do you have any idea how long I’ve been alone for?” A shot of pain sliced through your chest, aiming straight for your heart and hitting its mark, your gaze softening as you looked at him. “I have not woken up in somebody’s arms like that before. I’ve— nobody ever stays the night. I don’t let them, and they don’t want to. They take what they want, and they go. By the morning, it’s cold and empty all over again. This time, I fell asleep in your arms, and I woke up to you.”

“Az…” Your voice was hoarse, and you ran a hand down the side of your face, stopping to rest trembling fingers over your lips gently, trying to process.

“I’ve never slept so well either. But, it’s not just about that. Do you have any idea how nice this is? To cook for someone, and get to talk, and know someone else is here? I want this. I want it all.”

“But it would be so unfair to you.” Your words shook, and you reached out, taking one of his hands gently in your own, and smoothing your thumbs across the marred flesh, staring at the movements to avoid the weight of his gaze. “You’d be letting me live in your house, providing everything for me, you’d be changing my life, and—”

“And you’d be changing mine too. You know this.”

“But I can’t give you enough! I can’t make it even.” Sadness welled in your throat, a lump that made it hard to breathe. The selfish part of your mind was beating you for turning down everything you needed as it was handed to you on a silver platter, because your heart was in control right now.

“You don’t mind my hands?” He said after a few moments of silence, and your motions stilled, eyes snapping up to meet his own.

“What?”

“My hands. You don’t mind them?” His fingers flexed in your own, and you squeezed a little tighter.

“Of course not!”

“And what about my wings? My shadows. Do they scare you?” He pressed, and a deep sense of longing, to comfort him, to hold him, rushed through your veins like a drug taking hold.

“Your wings are beautiful, Az. Every part of you is beautiful. From your golden heart to your pretty golden eyes.” His cheeks flushed with a little colour, and you smiled despite yourself, loving that you could dot hat to him. To the infamous and terrifying spymaster of the Night Court. “Your shadows are adorable and playful, and I like them very much.”

“Do I scare you?” His voice was a whisper now, strained like he didn’t want to ask at all but just had to know the answer.

“No.” You replied, just as small and delicate.

“Then why can’t you see, that it has to be you? There’s something special about you. I don’t want anyone else. If you don’t want this deal, then I will let you go, without question or pressure. But I don’t want anyone else, I won’t offer it to another.” He held your hand properly now, lacing his fingers with your own and holding tight. “You have no idea how much you’d be giving me by being here, how much I need you already. By staying, you’d be giving me everything, I’d be the one unable to ever repay you. I want it to be you, I want you here with me. Please, stay.”

You worried your lower lip, your heart beating so hard it almost hurt, and your mind warred with the organ in your chest. You wanted to, you wanted so badly to stay here and be with him. It was surreal and wild and nothing like anybody had ever prepared you for. It was confusing, and different, and so strange. But despite every concern, it felt so right, like somehow, you’d stumbled to exactly where you were supposed to be, with whom you were supposed to be.

“I have so much… so much to give, and nobody to give it to. Let it be you, please.”

“I think I would like to stay too.” You finally whispered, a shot of adrenaline surging through you as the words slipped free. Happiness followed, an overwhelming burst of it at the smile that Azriel gave you, dropping his forehead to your clasped hands.

“Thank you.”

“Thank you, I have the easy part here.” You chuckled, taking your hands back to pick up your knife and fork when he finally freed them for you, still beaming as you as he resumed his own breakfast.

“Not true. All I do is let you move into my house, and live with me. It’s no great struggle. You have to…” He trailed off, shrugging a little, and your face flushed with heat, much like his own.

“I hardly think you’ll be a difficult man to love, Azriel.” Your words were whispered, hanging in the air for only a second between you both as he stared, before you cleared your throat, shattering the moment. “What do I do? What would you like? We should probably talk about that.”

He was silent for a few minutes, contemplating your question, and you resumed your eating, trying to get the spinning whirlwind of your thoughts back under control. You’d seen less chaotic sandstorms in Dawn than this felt.

As you finished your plate, somehow managing to finish off all the food that was there, a proud look passed across Azriel’s face as he watched, pleased with himself, it was clear.

“We do… whatever you want. I’ll follow your guidance, you tell me where your line is. If all you want is to be roommates, then that’s what we will be. I want everything, and anything you want to give.” He finished his food, stacking your plates together with a satisfied nod. “You make the rules, you set the boundaries. Whatever you want, sweetheart.”

“Really?”

“Of course.”

“Should we make another bargain of it?” You pondered aloud, reaching for your lukewarm tea, and your companion was full of simple amusement.

“Don’t ever make a bargain of something where the terms could change, or you’ll never be able to get rid of your promise mark. If I teach you only one thing about the Night Court, I will teach you about deals and promises.” Your hand flew to the back of your neck again, eyes widening.

“They can go?”

“Of course, once a promise is fulfilled, they disappear.”

Your gaze flickered down to his chest, across swatches of strong and taut muscle that was decorated with ink. “You’ve got all those promises currently?”

He sat back, arms stretching a little, and looked down at himself. “Some of them. This one,” He traced his fingers across a splotch of intricate ink just to the right of his heart. “is a promise to my brothers. We all made a promise, to be there for one another no matter what, always. It hasn’t been always, and so the mark remains.”

It made sense, and you looked for more, picking out a blooming pattern across his left shoulder. “What about that one?”

“That is a mark gained by becoming a warrior in the camps. Illyrians wear these tattoos like medals of honour, the more tattoos, the more honour you have. You see how they look ever so slightly different to the promise brands?” He beckoned your clothes, and you rounded the island to observe them with more detail. A shimmer of starlight passed through the promise marks, hardly visible to the naked eye unless you really looked for it. The Illyrian swirls, however, were ink-black and ominous.

“Will you tell me about the rest someday?”

“Happily.” He whispered, muscles jumping under his skin a little as you raised a hand, not daring to touch him but tracing the air over his skin, looking at the beautiful designs that covered so much of his shoulders, arms and chest. “There’s a lot, though.”

“We have time.” You offered, and he swallowed thickly, only nodding a quiet response.

“Yes, we do.” Quiet hung between you both again, dragging on, until you finally stepped away from the magnetic pull of his space, putting a healthy amount of distance between you both. Finally, you could meet his eye again, and finally, you could take a lung-filling breath. “We should go to your apartment, and get your things.”

“I can do that.” You waved a hand, and he scoffed, slipping from his stool to deposit the used dishes into the sink to be tended to later. You made a mental note to make sure you got to them before he did, it’s the least you could do after he cooked.

“Let you go back there alone, are you crazy? Not a chance.”

“I’ve been living there for weeks just fine.”

“Don’t remind me.” He grumbled, wiping his palms across the front of his sleep pants, and shaking out his wings. “Wait here, I’ll go get dressed. You can go in that.”

His words were final, and he disappeared through the kitchen archway into the mass of shadows looking far less sleepily now. You stood no chance of following him through the house without getting entirely lost, and so you only huffed, glancing down at yourself. It would do, you supposed. It wasn’t exactly a classy part of town anyway, and your dress was far worse.

You contemplated putting your heels back on, having just about found your way to the doorway once again, taking the jacket he’d loaned you last night and shrugging it on, heels in hand as he came back. Just the look of them made your feet ache already, and you decided against it, barefoot it would have to be, even if the thought made you cringe.

When Azriel reappeared, it was in black skinny jeans that did wonders for his thighs, and a hoodie just as dark to match. He’d tamed the messy bed hair he’d been sporting, and donned a glowing blue siphon across the back of each hand.

He looked so normal.

“How does that work?”

“How does what work?” He asked, dropping down to begin doing up the laces on his boots, and you felt under-dressed and embarrassed, feelings you were rapidly becoming accustomed to.

“Your hoodie and your wings.” He raised a brow, straightening up as he finished tying his laces.

“They have slots of my wings that fasten underneath, just like this t-shirt and jacket.” Sliding his hand around your back, you gasped as he slipped his hands through the gaps, calloused fingertips brushing the bare skin of your back for just a second.

“I get that, I meant, do you have to get them custom made, or is there… y’know, a store. Wings R’ Us.”

He paused, staring at you in pure shock, before bursting out with laughter, and his hand tightened a little on your back, tugging you a fraction of an inch closer to him before he slipped his hand free.

“What? It’s a valid question!” You mused, but your laughter mixed with his after only a few seconds, his hand retreating to hold your arm instead. You were still laughing as shadows flocked around you, darkness consuming you both, before you were re-emerging on the street outside of your apartment building only a few seconds later.

It was even worse in the daylight, and your laughter fizzled out as you looked up at it. Broken windows, glass covering the sidewalk, dead grass and mysterious puddles all over the pathway. The door was busted in, some windows border up entirely, graffiti and gang signs and burned patches of grass. One patch still had embers flickering. Running down the steps in a disgusting stream was a fresh upchuck of vomit, the tang of it lingering in the air, threatening to turn your stomach.

“You should stay out here. I won’t be long.”

“What? I can come up with you.” He took a step towards you, and your hand pressed to his chest, fingers spreading, and your head shook softly.

“It’s fine, you just wait here.” You didn’t want him to see your apartment, the broken window you’d tried to cover yourself that let in the cold, the mould on the walls, the broken furniture and door that didn’t look properly. You weren’t sure you’d survive that humiliation, having seen his house now. Your new residence, you supposed. There was no need for him to see this.

He didn’t look too happy, gaze moving to the building when voices trickled out from inside, unpleasant curses reaching both of you through the broken windows. “Fine. But, be quick. I’ll be right here if you need me.”

“I know you will.” That seemed to satisfy him a little at least, and you didn’t look back at him, not as you weaved up the stairs, being careful to avoid all substances in your bare feet, and slipped through the broken entry.

The stairs were cracked and splintering as you made your way up, you wouldn't miss them even slightly, and as the shock of it all settled into acceptance, a secret smile just for yourself formed. It still felt somewhat selfish to be having what Azriel offered you, you didn’t know what you’d done to deserve it, but it didn’t stop the relief, the overwhelming flood of warmth that filled you, knowing that soon enough, you’d be out of this building for good.

As you slipped through the unlocked door of your squalid apartment, you hoped to never see it again once you left.

Dragging out the solitary trunk you’d been able to travel with from under the bed, you hauled it up onto the squeaky, stained mattress. Undoing the latch, you flicked it open, dust and dirt forming in the air as you swept your hand through to clear it. Below your feet, shouting started, voices beginning to raise from a couple below who seemed to do nothing but fight through all day and night, and you sighed. You certainly would not miss them.

Slipping off Azriel’s jacket and laying it across the box, the first thing you did was find some socks, and a real pair of shoes. Finally, with them laced up and secure across your feet, you felt a little more secure with every footstep you took, no longer dodging splintered wood or hurtful shards.

After brushing your hair and washing your face, you were finally beginning to feel more like yourself again, a small back of rapidly dwindling cosmetics sitting on your broken bed. Below you once again, the fighting got even louder, before something heavy crashed, and the impact of it reverberated up the walls and shook the floorboards under your feet. You paused, the sprinkling of crumbling drywall falling to the floor as the cracks in your walls expanded.

Darkness flashed across the room, exploding out to all corners so quickly you almost missed them. Shadows darted to observe as Azriel spun in place, calculating gaze taking in everything, a dagger in one hand, shoulders squared and braced for a fight. When he deemed the space clear of immediate threat, he turned to you, shocked and shy, mortification creeping in until the edges of your vision was blurry.

“I heard a crash, and I panicked. What the Hell was— are you okay?” He was on guard again, stalking across the room to loop an arm around your waist, crushing you to his chest, and you gasped a shaky breath.

“I told you to wait outside!”

“I know, but I was worried!” A tear threatened to break loose from your eye as your body heated from head to toe, humiliation making itself known. “Let me help you pack. The sooner we get you out of here, into a place with a door that actually locks, the sooner you’ll be safe, and I’ll feel much better.”

The words echoed across the front of your mind, and you stepped away from him, emotions overwhelming as he looked at you in confusion. “How did you know about the door not locking? Did you send one of your shadows to spy on me?”

“No! Of course not.” His shoulders slumped a little, and you almost felt guilty for the accusation, his shadows coiling tighter around his body now. “They just told me when we got here, and I think some of them came with you. They kinda’ have a mind of their own sometimes. You asked me to wait, and I respected that, but I thought you might be in danger. This place is…”

Your chest felt hollow, fiery emotions pulling back and leaving you utterly drained, and you looked away from him to wipe at your cheeks and blink back tears. “This place is all I could afford. It’s not much, but it was good to me, for what I needed. I know it’s not great, I wish I’d had a chance to…” You waved a hand around the awful space, a wet and self-deprecating laugh leaving you, “I don’t know. I didn’t want you to see this—”

“I grew up in a dungeon.”

“You what?” The words best out of you on a shocked breath, your upset was temporarily forgotten as you looked up to him, and he grimaced at himself just slightly. Tucking his knife back away safely behind him, he scratched at the back of his head. “I didn’t… that wasn’t the best way to say that. I just wanted you to know I wasn’t judging you. I grew up in a dungeon, literally. The dark and the cold were my only friends. I would have gone crazy for a place like this as a kid, it would have been a luxury. And don’t even get me started on the trainee dorms and cabins at the camps. I don’t think I knew what it was to not live with illness from the damp or cold until Rhys’ mother took me in. I had my first ever hot bath with Cassian on one side of me and Rhys on the other.”

He reached out, taking your hand much like you had done not so long ago at breakfast, and running his thumb reassuringly over your knuckles. It took several deep, steadying breaths before you were back in control of your emotions. “I hope you don’t still bathe like that.”

“Only on special occasions.” He beamed, lifting his other hand to smooth his thumb over your cheek, before letting the both drop back to his sides. “Let me help you pack?”

“Okay.” You headed back to the bedroom, the room that undoubtedly had most of the items in, and he followed. You’d hardly brought anything with you when you travelled, moving fast and light, hoping you’d escape your meaningless life in Dawn only to end up worse here, until last night. “There’s not much to pack…”

“Then we’ll be home in no time.” Home. The word sparked through you like the ember that lit a fire, your smile beyond your control as you nodded. Azriel moved his jacket out of the way of the box, throwing it onto the dirty bedsheets, and rubbing his hands together. “I assume you’re not bringing everything.”

“Definitely not.” You shook your head, staring at the bed you’d been sleeping in, your skin crawling a little. His shoulders sagged with relief.

“Good, I have guest rooms with all the basics, you can pick any to make your own.” Once again emotions welled within you as you stared at Azriel, who had his hands resting on his hips, glancing around the room, a blue glow cast over it all now. You watched him move, taking in the space, moving towards the wardrobe on the far side of the room and swinging it open.

You were content just watching him, truly believing he wasn’t judging you now, your heart thumping in your chest as for the first time in your life, you felt supported.

He pulled back from within the wardrobe, clearing his throat and letting an item dangle from his fingers. Your jaw dropped open, everything in your head clearing out as he stared at you with wide eyes. Hanging by lacy straps was one of the items you’d bought in preparation for your new job, a garment that was nothing more than netting and threads, and barely enough to cover you from nipple to thighs. “Uh, how exactly do you put this on?”

You flew across the room, faster than you’d ever moved before, snatching it from him with wide eyes and scrunching it between your hands. There was so little fabric to it that it almost disappeared between your palms as you did so. You turned, shoving it into the corner of your case where you hoped he couldn't see it anymore, practically feeling his breathy laugh wash over you as your nerves fired on ends.

“No?” You turned back to him, a strangled sound leaving your lips as he lifted out some red mesh, waving the bodice in the air like a flag. “What about this one?”

“Stop!” You coughed, taking it and throwing it over your shoulder, not caring where it went, as mischief shone in his eyes. He didn’t look away from you as he reached in again, clearly enjoying being able to get this reaction, but you weren’t sure you could handle any more. Snatching his hands up into your own, you clutched his much larger ones tightly, pulling them to your chest and scowling up at his gleeful expression. “Stop pulling out… those items!”

“Those items are all that’s in there!”

You could only groan, and he flexed his hands in your tight grip, his knuckles brushing your collarbone lightly, and you gasped, releasing him immediately, unsure your blush could get any worse as his hands fell away from your chest. You sank to sit on the edge of the bed, covering your face in your hands, muffling another distressed groan.

Azriel took a knee before you, his fingers firmly prying your hands from your face. “Where are your real clothes?”

“In the drawers.” You sighed, waving to the rickety dresser against the far wall, and he nodded. Rising, he opened the top drawer, scooping out your folded clothes carefully and laying them in the trunk on your bed. He returned, opening another drawer, and another. “What are you doing?”

“Where are the rest?”

“That’s it.” You sighed, his brows raising high as you stood, finally retrieving the red corset from the floor and folding it neatly, before placing that inside too.

“That’s it?” He echoed, disbelief in his voice, and you only shrugged, pulling the final few items free from the wardrobe. A few more clothes, two more pairs of heels, and a single old coat you’d managed to buy here for a few coppers at a second-hand store.

“I didn’t have much to start with, I had to travel light, only what I could carry. I bought a few sets of clothes, some books, and my savings.” He retrieved said pile of books, holding them carefully and arranging them amongst the clothes, making sure not to look at the items from the wardrobe you’d carefully laid inside. “I was naïve. I thought I’d get her, to the Court of Dreams, and all my dreams would come true. I thought I’d find a job, buy more clothes, and live happily ever after. I was an idiot.”

“Hey,” He muttered, lips pursing, hand resting over your own. “You’re not an idiot. You’re optimistic, and hopeful, and that’s how it should have been. That’s the reputation this place has, it’s not your fault. You’re supposed to come here to find better, I’m sorry you didn’t.”

He spoke with such conviction on behalf of his court you almost felt like you had personally offended him, until he offered you a small smile.

“After paying the rent for this crappy place and being unable to find any other job, I invested what little of my savings I had left into those stupid clothes.” You rubbed your forehead, feeling a headache coming on if you didn’t leave the stress of this place behind soon. “Luckily, before I ran out of money, I bought some ridiculous little baskets and a throw blanket when I first arrived, to cheer myself up. Stupid decision, really, but they were colourful, and they brightened this place up a little, and made me happy to come back to.”

You wouldn't call this place home, it had never been, and Azriel left to the rest of the cramped space, wings tucked tight. You sealed up the box again, brushing your hands across the top of it now that it held everything you owned, and lifted it to the floor. It was barely any heavier than when you’d first arrived.

He returned, clutching your two baskets in hand, and he throw-rug rolled up neatly and placed inside of one. They made you smile, the first purchases you’d made upon getting here that were purely for indulgence. “They’re kinda’ tacky, I know, but—”

“I love them.” Azriel left no room for argument on it, his tone final, and you pressed your lips together to hide the size of the grin you wanted to offer. “Is this truly everything?”

“Everything I want to bring.”

“Then let’s get the fuck out of here.” He jerked his chin, motioning you forward, his arms full but you freed a hand to settle on his arm, and darkness wrapped around you both again to move you through the shadows.

Back to safety and comfort, it was an effort to step away from Azriel’s side, even when you were within the walls of his home once again. Your home now, too.

Putting down the baskets and the blanket, Azriel took the trunk from your hands, motioning to the stairs with his free one. “Let’s get you settled in, huh? Before you decide to back out on me again.”

“Oh, shut it.” Your scowl only made him laugh, following you up the stairs towards the upper level of the house. He took over, guiding you down corridors you vaguely recognised from this morning, and you knew that you’d either have to ask him for a tour or do some serious exploring before you knew this place properly, but you’d have plenty of time for that.

Azriel had paused before a smaller door, solid wood frame and a panelled white door, closed currently. He tapped his knuckles on the frame, before twisting the knob and letting the door swing open. Inside was spacious, natural light flooded in from all corners, and if you’d thought the wide halls and floor-to-ceiling windows were grand, this was something else. Decorated much like the rest of the house, with simple tones of cream and beige, this room was one of the most beautiful.

A bed the same size as Azriel’s sat against the far wall, accessible from both sides with no cramping, and delicate gauze curtains fluttered in the breeze. Through one archway was a whole walk-in closet, with endless empty racks and drawers for you to fill, a whole wall designed for shoes. Through the other cracked door, you could see tiles and a tub, an ensuite bathroom for your personal usage, just like Azriel’s room.

There was a desk, a wall of bookshelves with a few trinkets and half-burned candles on, and a small armchair sitting just beneath them.

“This is your guest room?” You sputtered, and Azriel only leaned on the doorway as you stepped inside, taking it all in, from the paintings hung on the wall to the ornate faelights.

“Sometimes Mor stays over, she prefers this room. Cassian prefers the other guest room, he says it has a better view of the mountains.”

“Mor?” You echoed, tracing your fingers over the silky bedsheets and biting back a smile, that same feeling that none of this could be real coming rushing back, with force.

“Morrigan.” The name flashed through you from his stories last night, and your back straightened a little.

“She won’t mind if I use this room, though?”

“Mor hardly stays over, and she never stays the same time as Cassian. She can use the other guest room, you seem to like this one.” His tone got lighter toward the end, and you couldn’t agree more, barely containing your expression of joy.

“I do like this room.” You let go with a dreamy sigh, and Azriel placed your case just inside the door, sinking into the soft carpet. Your gaze moved back to him, from the flicker of a smile on his lips, to the spark in his eyes, to the casual slump of his wings behind himself. Shadows were slipping in around him, exploring this room too and dancing around your legs. Striding back to him, you clasped both of his hands in your own, searching his eyes once more, just to be sure. “Are you certain about this, Azriel?”

“There are very few things I ever say I am absolutely certain of, I am not a man of exaggerations or hyperbole. I value statistics, and realism, and honesty.” Azriel squeezed your hands when your throat bobbed, “But I can say with total confidence that this, that you, are one thing I am sure of.”

“Thank you, Azriel.”

He squeezed once more, before letting go, and standing back from you. “Unpack your things, and then meet me downstairs when you’re done.”

The door clicked shut behind him when he went, leaving you alone for a while to admire your new bedroom. It was bigger than your whole apartment had been, luxurious and ornate and beautiful.

It didn’t take you long to unpack your things, putting each different item in a different drawer one for shirts, one for pants, one for pyjamas. You hung your coat up on a stray hanger, and placed your few pairs of shoes into the first of the many cubbies lining one whole wall, already picturing how beautiful it would look when it was full.

Stacking your few books on the bookshelf, you arranged them alongside Morrigan’s half-burned candles, sniffling each one, and approving each time. You re-fluffed the pillows of the armchair, and then the bed, the shadows watching you explore the whole room with excitement.

Lastly, you toed off your current shoes, setting them neatly by the door, before padding into the ensuite bathroom.

Pale brown stone tiles lined the floor, white tiles lined the walls, with exposed wooden beams just like the rest of the house, pulling it all together. A few soaps and oils sat along one shelf in the shower, with more stashed in a cupboard that stretched from the floor up to the ceiling. Neatly folded towels filled a rack in the corner, the cotton warm to the touch as it was coated in golden sunlight, with bounced from every mirror and made the room glow.

Half sunken into the floor, entirely separate from the shower, was a large bathtub, big enough to accommodate anyone with wings even if they spread them out, and when you sat in the empty tub, you could hardly reach the sides with your arms stretched out.

Your cheeks almost hurt from grinning so much by the time you got control of yourself again, beginning your exploratory mission throughout the house to try and find your way once again.

It wasn’t as hard this time, the third time you’d made the journey, all of it finally starting to feel a little easier. Even if you did cheat a little, following the floral smell of whatever tea Azriel had busied himself with brewing while he waited. He wasn’t in the kitchen when you found him, though.

He was in a room you hadn't seen before, the living room, a space somehow even bigger than your bedroom and his. Combined. The fireplace was crackling to life, the quiet pops of logs sounding through the space, and another tray of tea sat out on the table. He was sitting in one of the many armchairs that were designed to accommodate wings, low-backed couches and loungers filling the room, making it look cosy and inviting.

All the books on these shelves were lined up neatly, arranged in groups with ornaments and trinkets splitting them up, the kinds of things you’d never seen before, surely mementoes from his travels all across the continent and beyond. Hanging over the fireplace was a portrait, snow outside the windows and a Solstice tree full of presents, with what seemed to be Azriel’s entire family gathered around, smiling happily. Even the infant heir was present, little Lord Nyx as a baby, sitting on his mother’s lap.

“Feyre painted it, it was a gift for my birthday last year.”

“When is your birthday?” Your attention moved to Azriel as he stood, smirking and moving to pour a second cup of tea. He told you as he moved, and you stored the information away for later, making sure you’d do something special for it. He asked for your own, information which you happily offered in return for the mug he left on the table for you.

As you stepped closer to the chair beside his own, you spotted your baskets, sitting in a neat stack beside the fire. Decorative and perfectly imperfect in the space, a disbelieving laugh on your lips. On the back of the couch was your blanket, thrown artistically over the cushions, and a squeak left your lips as you saw them.

It was the final drop, the bit that sent every other emotion overflowing within you until tears of happiness were lining your eyes. Seeing them here, so simple but it meant so much to you, and you raced to him, until your arms circled his middle, face pressing into the centre of his chest. You nuzzled in close, overwhelmed by your emotions, overwhelmed by him, and letting out a shaky sound that was muffled by his hoodie.

“Is this okay?” You mumbled, twisting to the side, to press your cheek over his heart instead, the same way he’d fallen asleep on you last night, and the stiffness of his body melted away. His arms wrapped around you, so tight you swore he’d never let you go as he hauled you even closer to himself.

“Yes,” His response was breathy, just as timid as your question had been, but laced with so much emotion it practically lanced right through you. His cheek came down to rest atop your head, kissing your hair before he was hugging you just as desperately as you were him.

“Y’know, this is really nice,” You sniffed, laughing through the tears that were going to break free any second, and relishing the affection he was giving to you. “I think we’re going to work out just fine.”

“I think so too, sweetheart.”

#SLS #sweet like sugar #azriel/you #azriel x you #azriel x reader #azriel/reader #azriel shadowsinger #acotar/you #acotar x you #acotar/reader #acotar x reader #acotar

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cthulhusstepmom · 1 year ago

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Evidence that Sergeant John "Soap" MacTavish is not what he seems-Lt. SR:

Soap smells like rain, it took a while to put it together because it's not Soap himself that emits the odor, it just follows him. It's less potent inside and when it's sunny outdoors but if you concentrate it's always there.

He has never been observed touching a gun or grenades without gloves. Almost every other explosive he handles with no regard for his own safety gloves.

HE EATS WEIRD SHIT. While he doesn't eat much of the food on offer from the cafe, he does eat consistently when outdoors, usually plants or flowers. Things he has eaten: dandelions(edible), garlic(edible), thistle(edible but he ate it with the thorns), foxglove(toxic, showed no adverse reaction), Several unidentified flowers and berries, grass(technically edible?) Etc.

Will sometimes refuse to enter a place before abruptly going in. The data is not consistent between different buildings or locations. Further research is required.

Sharp teeth.

Groups things in nonsensical ways. He will only fill a magazine with bullets that total a multiple of 7 or 3. The same for what weights he uses in the gym. When drawing or eating he sorts by 4s. He traded his room to get #13 (right next door, coincidence?).

Cameras will not focus on him, whether photo or video he is never in focus regardless of distance or conditions.

He has never once been in medical for more than half an hour, usually much less. Even though his hands have light burns on them almost constantly.

Dogs hate him. He seems ambivalent towards them and he's never been bit that Ive seen. Cats adore him as do birds.

John MacTavish does not blush. Not for lack of trying even when genuinely flustered or hot, his skin does not flush.

Ghost sets down the small notebook with a minute sound of frustration. The evidence is all there but looking at it, what does it really say? Other than that he's an obsessive creep. A series of quirks and coincidences compiled by a paranoid son of a bitch into a fucking stalker journal. But still, Simon can't help but feel like he's right and he'd be dead a million times over if he simply disregarded his intuition. Even if it is something batshit insane.

At this point however it seems that it'll drive him mad far before it yields any answers. After scouring what little resources were comprehensible on the internet he'd started growing out his hair, intent on tying it in knots to prevent charms. Leaving him with a problem he'd not encountered since he'd first donned the mask: unruly curls and balaclavas don't mix well at all. He'd also kept a piece of stale bread in his pocket for days as he'd read it was a repellent to- and he can't even believe he's considering it-fairies. It backfired, if anything Johnny had been more attached to him and even more touchy than usual. He'd left a small deli cup full of coffee creamer outside his door overnight and found it neatly placed upside down where he'd left it with not a drop left. Ghost chalked that up to some wise guy playing a joke or an exceptionally dextrous cat and firmly shut the door on any other possibilities in his mind. His next test had been a gift of clothing mixed with complements, he'd read that both were likely to drive away any Other. It hadn't been a very extravagant gift, a new pair of gloves and a gruff "well done Johnny" but at the time it had seemed to be the final nail in the coffin as Soap had gone white as a sheet(he can do that but he can't blush???) and scurried off. A quiet dread had filled his stomach the whole day until Soap turned up at dinner, a little quieter than usual but wearing his new gloves and eating more than usual(a scoop and a half of mashed potatoes with 4 packets of butter and 2 packets of sour cream as well as a cookie. The main course of spaghetti and meatballs went untouched though Gaz snapped it up before it could truly go to waste). Though when Ghost returned to his room late that night after trudging through hours of paperwork he found a pile of tiny, aromatic, pink flowers on the floor in front of his door and on top of them a shiny metal comb. Simon's tired brain hardly stopped to think of any of the dire warnings he'd found on forum posts and folklore sites alike, crouching and tenderly retrieving the piece from its bed of flora, careful not to crush any of the tiny blooms. Well... With all the knots in his hair-purposeful and otherwise-he's going to need a sturdy comb anyway.

#fae!soap #superstitious bastard!Ghost #little does Ghost know that Scottish fairies actually favor bread instead of being repelled by it #meanwhile the whole clothing trick would have totally worked if it weren't for the fact that Soap took as a courting gesture #also the idea of Ghost leaving out two ounces of hazelnut coffee creamer and Soap just feeling his heart beating out of his chest #but he doesnt want to be presumptuous so he waits until hes got absolute confirmation that Ghost wishes to court him #and he gives him gloves...so he can touch him and not be burned by the iron #Soap is simultaneously three steps ahead and six steps behind #cod mw2 #ghost x soap #ghostsoap #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #fae!au #and to think i wanted to upload this to ao3 😑

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writtenonreceipts · 3 months ago

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Rowaelin Month Day Five: Birthdays @rowaelinscourt

Month Masterlist // AO3 // Find Part One Here (not necessary to read)

Summary: Forced to live together during covid, Rowan and Aelin have their own series of misgivings while trying to get along.

Warnings: references to covid, but really it's fluff ~1.8k words

.*.*.*.*.

Level of Concern (tell me we're ok)

If she hadn’t expressed it enough already: Aelin hated the pandemic. She hated isolation. She hated separation. She hated the unknown. She hated all of it.

Yes, she knew it was important and key to seeing lower number spikes and she knew this was all she could do aside from getting vaccinated and it was all very important to take seriously. Sure. Fine.

But why did it feel so lonely?

She sat at the kitchen table staring at her breakfast of granola and milk wishing it were a triple decked pile of Nutella pancakes. Her groceries were running low and since money was tight, she had to wait until her paycheck cleared on Friday before she could go to the store. It was Monday.

Aelin glanced at her phone. Again.

No messages.

It was only eight, earlier than her family knew she would ever get up. Especially on a day like today. Still. She would have expected at least one text from Aedion.

A small shuffle down the hall told her that Rowan was awake. Of course he was. Aelin was pretty sure he woke up by five-thirty so he could still work out in the living room. It really pissed her off that he wasn’t getting fat. She’d gained two pounds since quarantine began. Not that she could really tell…honestly, she knew it didn’t mean anything and who the hell cared what her body looked like. If she didn’t have to worry about money she’d be eating her weight in cake right now.

“Are you alright?”

Aelin looked up to see Rowan standing in the kitchen entryway. She hadn’t noticed his entrance, only thinking he was moving from bathroom to bedroom.

“So good,” she said. She took a bite of now soggy granola and hated her entire existence.

Rowan, dressed in his usual slacks and neat button up, went to start a pot of coffee. His pine scented soap permeated the air and Aelin tried not to sniff too loudly. Why did he have to smell good too?

After the entire incident with the cookie dough weeks ago, Aelin had tried to put some much needed distance between the two of them. Well, much needed for her. He didn’t need her being awkward and fluttery around him. Because she wasn’t. Obviously. He was just attractive and she was an idiot.

Rowan took a seat at the table across from her, bowl of premade overnight oats and bowl of berries set before him. How much did he make that he could afford fresh fruit? In this economy? Maybe, maybe, once a month did she indulge on some nicer foods. But after the “great egg famine” she relied a bit too heavily on cheaper items. She should try working out. Maybe that would help her slump.

“You’re staring at me,” Rowan said. He was looking at his phone with some news app opened.

“Am not.” Another soggy bite of granola.

“Sure,” he replied, drawing the word out.

Aelin rolled her eyes and stood. She wasn’t going to finish this food, no matter how painful it was to waste it. Besides, she had to prepare for her day. She’d managed to snag a few jobs for the week that would hopefully keep her busy enough to ignore the fact that this birthday was going to be the worst she’d ever had.

The rest of the day passed by uneventfully. Which Aelin had built herself up for, really.

Elide was a travelling nurse and with Covid, she’d been busier than ever. Aedion was still stationed overseas doing something that was uber classified. He could just say he was training with the SEALS and be done with it. Lysandra had launched a new clothing store right before lockdown and was doing everything in her power to keep the little shop up and running. Aelin spent a decent chunk of her paycheck on items from the store and most of her Insta feed was just reels Lysandra created.

She couldn’t be mad at any of them, not really. Not even her own parents. Her father had been leveraging to retire from his company but that hope had been shot out the window and her mother was helping to care for some relatives that were also struggling. No one was immune to the chaos the last several months had caused.

Aelin was finally able log off her personal website having finished the long list of assignments and editing jobs. Now she just needed to hear back from her clients and their re-edits.

Out in the kitchen Rowan was already bustling around. She could hear pots banging and already a delightful aroma was permeating the air. It was only five-fifteen, he must have finished up his day early, a first for him.

Scrubbing a hand down her face, Aelin grabbed one of her oversized flannels and tugged it on over her graphic tee, Read Banned Books was printed over the front. It probably needs to be washed but she couldn’t be bothered with laundry.

As she shuffles out of her room she tried to decide what she has left to eat for dinner. A frozen dinner or maybe ramen. Which sounded terrible if she were being honest.

“I’ll be quick—” she began to tell Rowan as she entered the kitchen. But she came up short when she saw the table was made up with two place settings. And the stove was full of more than enough food for one person.

She frowned. Rowan was adamant over the rules of social distancing, his parents were older and at a higher risk of getting infected, so he wouldn’t have anyone over—the vaccine hadn’t rolled out for their area yet anyways.

Rowan glanced up at her, kitchen towel slung over one shoulder, his sleeves were rolled up leaving his forearms on display and bits of his tattoo peeking out from the fabric.

She was definitely staring.

“Happy birthday,” he said when she didn’t finish her thought. He gestured a hand around the messy kitchen then the table. “I was expecting you to take a little longer, so it’s not quite ready.”

Aelin blinked. “I don’t understand.”

“I know it’s your birthday Aelin,” he said, “and I’m sure it’s been hell for you today. I wanted to do something nice for you.”

Something…nice?

“You made me dinner?” she asked, trying desperately to ignore the way her heart gave a flip in her chest.

“Yeah,” he said simply. He glanced back at the stove. “It’s only a Tuscan chicken and bread.”

It was the nicest thing anyone had ever done for her in ages. She looked over his shoulder as the chicken in its cream and sundried tomato sauce as it bubbled happily away, a pot of pasta behind it. There were dishes scattered in the sink (she’d never seen him make such a mess before) and Rowan did have a mildly frantic look in his eyes. It was the most disheveled she’d ever seen him.

“Thank-you,” Aelin said. She brushed a hand through her hair unsure why she was feeling so frazzled. “Can I help with anything.”

Rowan shook his head. “We’re almost done anyways. Have a seat and I’ll bring it over.”

Following his direction, Aelin settled into her chair, still trying to figure out if she’d stepped into a different reality.

“How’d you know it was my birthday?” she asked as he finished getting everything together.

“Elide texted me,” Rowan told her, “told me that she didn’t know her schedule to give you a call and your family is…busy.”

“Right,” Aelin agreed. Elide was dating one of Rowan’s friends, Lorcan, so it wasn’t completely strange that she would at least know of him. “Where’d you learn to cook anyways? You’re always whipping something up.”

“My ma,” Rowan said. He dished a plate of food and returned it back before her. Heavenly scents wafted up to her and Aelin realized she was salivating. “She always said she wanted to make sure I could take care of myself. And I liked it, so I kept cooking after I went to college.”

It was the most she’d ever heard from him. And now…now she wanted to hear more from him.

Rowan dished his own plate and sat in the chair opposite her. “I hope you like it.”

“It smells amazing,” she admitted. She got a forkful of all the bits of the meal; chicken, basil, sundried tomatoes, parmesan cheese, all drenched in sauce. Unable to wait for it to cool down she stuffed it into her mouth. Rowan watched her with mixed bemusement (mostly concern).

“Oh,” she moaned, ignoring the look he was giving her. “This is the best thing ever.”

“You’re going to burn your mouth to hell,” he said, slowly readying his own bite.

“Too good,” she replied. She was only on her second bite and planning on seconds. If he was going to cook for her, she’d eat every last bite.

Rowan muttered something under his breath that she couldn’t make out but she didn’t care. It had been ages since she’d had a decent homecooked meal and this was more than decent.

“Was your day alright, all things considered?” he asked, passing her the garlic bread.

Aelin finally managed to slow down and take a drink of water and some of the proffered bread. She took a moment to consider her answer. If she told the truth he’d probably pity her more.

“It was okay,” she said. “Same old. I got a few new clients so it was keeping me busy.” She wouldn’t see payout from these jobs for at least another three weeks which was why she was banking on this Friday’s payments to come through. “What about you? No big ‘ol problems for you?”

She was teasing him, mostly. He’d given her enough grief about her English degree in this economy that she didn’t being a little snippy right back at him.

Rowan rolled his eyes. He took another bite to furlong his response. “Same as always.”

Aelin quirked her brow. “So that f-bomb this morning was…what? Catharsis?”

“Yes.”

He responded too quickly that Aelin knew she had him.

“Right,” she drawled. “It’s alright to hate your job you know, no one will judge you or your fancy degree for it.”

“Aelin.”

She shrugged, mouth quirking in a smile. “Last one, promise.”

“I don’t trust you on that,” he said.

Aelin wasn’t offended.

They finished meal companionably, which shocked Aelin more than Rowan cooking for her. And she helped him clean the dishes, because really, she wasn’t that terrible a person.

“So, no chocolate cake?” She asked as she dried the last pan.

“I cook not bake,” he said, “you’re on your own for that, princess.”

She resisted the urge to stick her tongue out at him. As he turned to head back to his room for the night, Aelin garnered the last amount of courage she had for that day.

“Rowan,” she said, calling him back. “Thank-you for tonight.”

He offered her one, rare smile. “You’re welcome.”

.*.*.*.

thanks for reading!! reblogs and comments appreciated. my blog @writtenonreceiptswrites is my fic only blog where i reblog all updates!

#rowaelin #rowaelin month #rowaelin month 2024 #aelin galathynius #rowan whitethorn

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fallingstarsandthemoon · 2 months ago

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CRK x MCYT AU: Life Series (playable) Gem Mermaids

Asks/Fanart is appreciated, make sure to give credit when using the designs/AU!

yk what that means. FISH.

Lizzy/LDshadowlady, (Berry Soda Cookie,) despite being an Ancient, also fills in the space of Sea Fairy Cookie. It was only fitting that I made the mermaids of tearcrown Life Series members. I didn’t know who to put as the rest of the gem mermaids, so have the main two. (And before y’all ask, Rubies and sapphires are pretty close as gems irl and can come in a variety of colors like green and yellow.)

More info/lore below the cut:

Scar, or Abyssal Ruby Cookie (formerly Gold Sapphire Cookie, the youth of the Gem Mermaids,) is the AU equivalent of Black Pearl Cookie, first the joy and light of the Tearcrown equivalent, now residing at the bottom of the Duskgloom Sea as its sovereign and destroying every ship that dares enter the territory. Despite his spiteful and sadistic nature, he still has a little bird friend that comes around every now and again…

Moon Pearl Cookie is the eldest Gem Mermaid, Matriarch, and General of the AU’s equivalent of Tearcrown. Despite her hard and strategic exterior, she has a kind heart more valuable than the very gem on her head and cares for the safety of every resident in Tearcrown. Her loyal dogfish Till is a huge help as well.

(Fun fact: Till is one of the only creature outside of the Duskgloom Sea allowed in or out, because he’s too small and fast and cute for Abyssal Ruby to kill and will bite him if AR even tries to attack him.)

The Almighty Sea has been deathly silent since the Dark Flour War. The very same timeframe where it all went wrong…

#mcyt #au #crk x mcyt au #crk x mcyt #crk au #crk fanart #cookie run kingdom #mcrkyt au #ldshadowlady #life series #pearlescentmoon #life series fanart #pearlescentmoon fanart #goodtimeswithscar #gtwscar #goodtimeswithscar fanart #God this took too long to make AUGH #DAMN YOU PROCRASTINATION

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hoseoksluna · 5 months ago

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— 🫦. bubs,

this pic is making me feel things and i want you to suffer with me. 🤗

this is exactly how i picture berries!hobi, the businessman he is. the clean look, the suit, the smile. and baby jungkook… who’s insecure and wants to be like hobi…

a spoiler?

perhaps.

LUNAAAAAAA

#berries series cookies #berries!hobi #losing my mind #luna is dead

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lapileaf · 10 days ago

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Voice claims for Cinderella boy (I will add on once we meet other characters) this is just how I hear them lol

Chase: Jeremy Jordan (Varian, Tangled the series)

Deacon: Josh Brener (Donatello, ROTTMNT)

Buddy: James Franco (Fox, Little Prince)

Prunella: Claire Corlett (Sweetie Belle, MLP)

Grandpa Ralph: Clancy Brown (Hank Anderson, Detroit: Become Human)

Prunellas mom: Kimberly Brooks (Princess Alura, Voltron 2016)

Silver: Linda Cardellini (Lylla, GOTG 3)

Bronze: Brian Bloom (Varric, Dragon age 2)

Goldie: Matt Berry (Steven Toast, Toast of London)

Violet: Scarlett Johansson (Natasha, Black Widow)

Simon: Behzad Dabu (Lilac Cookie, Cookie run)

Sunny: Ayo Edebiri (Sydney Adumu, The Bear)

David: Tunde Adebimpe (Banana Gaurd 16, Adventure time)

Lady Lovacorn: Cherami Leigh (Irelia, LOL)

#cinderella boy #cinderellaboy #punko #fun with punko #webtoon #cinderella boy webtoon #deacon hollow #buddy cinderella boy #chase hollow

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stellamancer · 11 months ago

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gifts and promises (satoru gojo x reader)

notes: this is actually the full version of a series of blurbs i left on @shotorus's decotree for Christmas that i actually did not finish initially. uh. what else to say. i'll try and write bkg after i wake from a nap lmao. i hope everyone who celebrates is having a nice christmas!

wc: 1.2k

contains: gender neutral reader, mentions of food, eating and feeding other people, finger sucking

"Ta-da!" Gojo exclaims, holding up the cake box in his hand like it's treasure.

You stare at him blankly. "I thought you were bringing fried chicken."

"I said I was bringing Christmas food. So I got a cake."

You shake your head. To be honest, you’re not surprised, but you are a little disappointed. "No, Christmas food is chicken. you know, from KFC."

Gojo pouts as he sets down the cake box and opens it up. It’s a Christmas cake through and through— covered in whipped pure white topping with plump, red strawberries adorning the top. Nestled amongst the cream and berries is a little Santa shaped cookie with a little chocolate placard with the words ‘Merry Christmas’ written across it in elegant letters. You’ve seen this cake before— in the display case of one of the most expensive patisseries in Tokyo. Leave it to Gojo to buy an expensive Christmas cake. "So you don't want any?"

"It's not that,” you say, watching as he grabs a fork and only a fork, which makes his intentions clear in your eyes. “It's that you're bad at sharing cake."

"Not true. I plan to share it with you!"

"Do you?"

He grins and suddenly you realize that you might have mistaken his intentions entirely. This is not good.

"Come on," Gojo nearly sings, carelessly scooping some cake with the fork and presenting it to you. "Say 'ah~'"

You eye it warily, the bite of cake that he's got just for you sitting daintily on the prongs. Your gaze shifts toward Gojo and you look him dead in the eye as you respond. "No."

If that were enough to deter him then you'd never ask Santa for a gift ever again.

But it's not.

He merely pushes the fork closer to you, still grinning and you watch as some of the whipped topping oozes down the side. Wait too long and it'll make a mess.

But, it's only one bite, so you suppose you'll swallow your pride along with the cake and call it a gift for the most annoying man on earth.

You lean forward and eat the cake off Gojo's fork, making sure to look as slovenly as possible. It doesn't matter; Gojo is elated.

Wanting to stifle the gloating that's sure to come, you swipe one of the strawberries from the top of the cake and nearly shove it into his mouth, pressing the tip to his lips.

"Your turn," you hiss.

The fork, still in Gojo's grasp, slips between his fingers and clatters onto the table. The room goes completely silent, but you barely notice as Gojo's gaze is trained on you, his speechlessness a gift to the universe.

It's at this moment that you realize the gravity of what you're doing— what you’ve done. You'd only wanted to shut him up but to him and the world at large, it looks like you're feeding him.

Alarmed, you try to pull your hand back, but his fingers wrap tightly around your wrist as he takes the strawberry from you, lips brushing against your fingertips, his eyes still fixed on you.

This is too much.

Your brain goes offline and instinct automatically takes over— instinct being to just shove your fingers in his mouth.

It does not make things any better.

Gojo moans around your fingers and you are overcome with the intense and violent desire to take the rest of the cake and shove it in his face.

You don't.

Instead, you rip your hand from his grasp, and, without a word, stomp off to the bathroom to wash his icky germs off your hands. You scrub and scrub but you can't seem to rid yourself of the feeling of his tongue brushing against the pads of your fingers.

This is terrible, absolutely terrible.

Finally, you give up and exit the bathroom, only to find one Satoru Gojo waiting outside. When your eyes meet, he grins, triumphant.

"Did you have to..." you trail off; you don’t want to say it aloud.

"No, but I thought it'd be fun," he answers with a cheeky grin.

"I hope you know that I hate you."

"You don't mean that," Gojo laughs.

"Oh, but I do."

It's obvious Gojo doesn't believe you. That's fine. You don't care. You don't need him to.

You start to walk past him when he speaks up again, but this time his voice is oddly soft. "Hey, wait."

"What?" you glance back at him and for once, he's not looking at you, but at the ceiling. It’s odd; he looks almost shy in a boyish sort of way. It’s almost kind of cute. "What is it?"

Gojo's hands reach into his pockets and they shift around before pulling out a small package that fits in the palm of his hand. Your eyes widen. It looks like—

"...is that for me?" you ask dumbly.

"Who else would it be for?" Gojo responds and you're not sure if he sounds teasing or indignant.

You stare at him. "I... uh... but I didn't..."

He shrugs, and grins, looking back to normal. "Don't worry about it. Just bought it on a whim."

Something in you is doubtful but you don’t think too deeply about it. Gingerly, you take the gift from Gojo and he stares at you, looking expectant. You suppose it’s only correct to open it here in front of him and you tear apart the wrapping paper to find what looks like a vacuum packed black disc.

“...uh, thanks?” What the hell did he even give you?

Gojo laughs and you think he realizes your confusion. Possibly even revels in it. He lifts a hand and draws a line in the air with his finger— manipulating his cursed energy to cut the packing around the black disc. It puffs up immediately and you can’t help but stare. It looks less like a ball and more like a palm sized Satoru Gojo plush ball.

“What the hell is this?”

“It’s a stress ball.” Gojo explains. “Thought you might need one since you’re always so agitated.”

A sudden violent urge pulses through you and reflexively you squeeze tightly at the ball in your hand. Gojo grins, obviously pleased

“See! You’re using it already! I knew it would be a good gift!”

As much as you want to hurl the ball right at his stupid face, you restrain yourself. No matter who or what it is, it’s not polite to throw someone’s present back at them. Especially since you know he didn’t just buy this on a whim.

Through gritted teeth, you say, “Well, thanks…”

And then your expression shifts, schooling itself into something more somber when you realize. “...I don’t have anything for you, though.”

Gojo tilts his head and shrugs. “It’s fine. I don’t need anything.”

You frown. There’s little doubt in your mind that Gojo could have a need for anything, when it feels like he has the entire world at his fingertips, but—

“But,” he says slowly. “If you’re asking about what I might want, then just promise to get me something next year.”

There is something about the sound of his voice, a grander meaning interwoven in the promise he’s asking you to make. He’s asking you about next year, about the future, when you live a life where you cannot even promise tomorrow. Gojo knows that, and yet he’s asking, he’s wanting and—

“...I guess I can get you something,” you mumble softly.

He laughs and you wonder if he thinks that the promise is a gift in its own way. “Okay, deal.”

yes, gojo gave you a fuwakororin of himself. fucking loser.

#gojo x you #gojo x reader #satoru gojo x you #satoru gojo x reader #jjk x reader #nikuniku fics #infinite loop!verse

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honey-minded-hivemind · 2 months ago

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Okay, folks! What about a Legend of the Guardians; The Owls of Ga'Hoole-inspired au? Where the human and mutants are all owl avians/harpies, they live in cities and hollows and caves of the owl kingdoms, and the mutants are a rare, near extinct species (in the au, not in real life) (so, something like bubo, strix, or tyto, species and subsequent subspecies). Fun facts:

• the Pure Ones are the Brotherhood and Acolytes in this au

• the Guardians are the X-Men, and the Institute is the Great Ga'Hoole Tree

• mutants are a rare or near extinct species of owl avians/harpies, but I think a good species + subspecies would be bubo owls, strix owls, or tyto owls

• the owl kingdoms are: The Canyons (home of the brainwashing place called St. Aegolius for Orphaned Owls) (I'm on the rocks if Magento runs it or if some other villain does); the Beaks; The Silverveil Woods; Ambala Forests; and the Kingdom of (either Bubo, Strix, or Tyto, depending on which type of owls the mutants are)

• owl avians eat meat raw, but can also cook if they are a blacksmith, a collier, or someone who can use fire or coals; some foods they eat raw include: bats, rats, small birds, insects, rabbits, voles, lemmings, snakes, mice, and sometimes fish and snails, as well as nuts and berries; cooked or prepared foods include: tea, nut cookies, cooked snails and fish, barbecue bat wings, baked voles and mice, and dried crickets + centipedes, and much more...

• battle claws are sharp metal claws worn over an avian's talons that they use in battles; they are made by blacksmiths or scavenged from battlefields

• old crumbling remains of castles can be found in some places, left behind by the extinct Others (humans or some other species, because in this au, mutants and humans are all owl avians, just mutants are a rare type in this au) (not necessarily rare in real life, just rare in this au)

Meta Fun Facts:

• The book series this is based on is called Guardians of Ga'Hoole and boy oh boy was it intense. It featured the likes of: blood, gore, death, brainwashing, murder, infanticide, cannibalism, racism, and their own versions of demons from h*ck, and more...

• the movie is a lot softer than the books, but is still a bit intense

• Zack Snyder directed the Legend of the Guardians; The Owls of Ga'Hoole movie. Yes, you read that right. The guy who directed Batman v. Superman and 300 directed a movie with talking owls in helmets

(Feel free to ask questions about this au if you want!)

#honeycomb thoughts #platonic yandere marvel #yandere platonic marvel #platonic yandere xmen #yandere x-men #platonic yandere marvel x reader #platonic yandere xmen evolution #platonic yandere xmen evolution au #🦉guardians of ga'hoole au

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awhhhflush · 2 years ago

Text

The Meeting

Mob!Bucky x Reader x Steve Rogers (Massive warning - this fic is dark.)

I'd recommend listening to this for this chapter!

Warnings (apply to the whole series): drugging, mafia/gang activity, criminal activity, age gap (reader is over the age of 18), arson, death, murder, coercion/peer pressure (non-sexual), manipulation/brainwashing, parental issues (a.k.a daddy issues), abuse of power, sort of stockholm syndrome?

Summary: Left to your own devices whilst your mother joins socialite groups with the other rich moms in town and whilst your father deals with those business troubles he's been having, you decide to explore your surroundings, and make a new friend on the way.

Fine. Maybe a miniskirt and Mary Janes weren't the best fashion choice for exploring the woods down the street, but you were yet to have unpacked the entire contents of your wardrobe. It was the best you could do. Besides, it would hopefully make a nice impression on anybody who saw you. The outfit painted a sweet, innocent, girl-next-door picture of you that you rather enjoyed. The plaid skirt went nicely with the cardigan you wore, which was perfect for the autumn chill. You promised your parents you'd be home by lunchtime, and surprisingly enough, your father let you leave without assistance. That was probably his first mistake, unbeknownst to you.

As you stepped out of the house, the October breeze hit you like an avalanche, a shiver running down your spine instantly. The shiver was also impacted by the eye contact you made once more with the man across the street, however. Your hands immediately flew to your skirt, tugging it down as much as you could to avoid judgement, earning a chuckle from the man. Although he was rather far away, you still heard his laugh and it sent an unfamiliar warmth to your core. You shuddered at your own avidity. You both paused for a moment, neither of you wanting to be the first to break the gaze, until he turned on his heel and gave you one more glance before entering his own home. Relief relaxed your shoulders, and you let the huff of air you must have been holding in slip from your lips. You clutched your bag as your stomach began to ache with hunger. Maybe it would be nice to have a picnic date with yourself in the forest.

The walk to the grocery shop, which perched on a corner flooded with crates of flowers and fruits, was thankfully rather short. You picked up a punnet of berries and some cookies, receiving both lustful and judgemental looks from most of the other customers. The cashier, who just so happened to be a suited, well kept man, whom was insanely buff and broad, that owned the shop itself, simply watched you in curiosity. You smiled warmly at him and thanked him as you left, the bell on the top of the door frame dinging sharply as you stepped out. Peckish, you bit into a perfectly crimson strawberry as you made your way to the woods your father had driven past on your way to the house. The juice of the berry stained your lips as you chewed and hummed contently. It was delicious.

The leaves under your feet crunched faintly, crisp and warm toned. The forest was riddled with overgrown greenery which had now grown limp and dry, but it was beautiful all the same. Ivy creeped up the trees, embracing them tightly. The grass was somehow short amidst the dying leaves and bushes. The trees cast a shadow over the entire forest. The place had a simple yet eerie beauty to it. Perhaps you could visit here more often. You found a tree, twisted and distorted, its trunk reaching out the the ground among the thorns and nettles. You settled upon the trunk, leaning against the upward twist of it. It was a perfect place to sit and relax. This place only got better.

You'd just dug into your berry mix as you heard a deep grunt sound before you. Your gaze snapped up, meeting the intense eyes of the man across the street. Your body immediately tensed under his watch. "We must stop meeting like this," he chuckled, the same sound from earlier reverberating through his chest, which was, much like the shop keeper's, exceptionally broad and muscular, his sweater fitted just enough to outline the muscles perfectly. You smiled softly, still nervous as his eyes burned into you. He held his hand out to you, offering it as a greeting. You shook it lightly, your small hand enclosing around his in a way that made his eyes darken. You didn't notice, though. You were too busy trying not to melt under his gaze. The man was incredibly attractive - it wasn't your fault that he flustered you so much. His dark hair was gelled lightly, stray and short curls framing his face. His eyes were a vibrant and deep blue, somehow radiating an alluring darkness despite their brightness in colour. He towered over you, and you were sure he would even if you weren't sat down. His shoulders were wide and his arms were large and rugged. His jaw was defined and sharp, brushed with faint stubble which was strangely attractive. Whilst it made him look older, it made him all the more handsome. His lips were plump and pink, in a constant state of soft smiling toward you. Between his brows was a crease, similar to the kind that frustration or anger would bring. But he wasn't angry or frustrated - at least you didn't think he was. Despite the time you felt you had spent scanning the man's features, seconds had not yet even passed. He seemed to freeze time. "I'm James," he breathed, "but my friends call me Bucky," and a smirk tugged at his lips.

"How does James turn into Bucky?" You giggled, playful confusion washing over your features. He hummed a laugh, leaning nearer to you. "When you become a friend." He purred. Your smile dropped, now replaced with a blank and flustered stare, heat rising in your cheeks. Bucky could've sworn his pants got tighter as he watched the blush erupt in the apples of your cheeks. You shook your head softly, the smile returning to your lips as you composed yourself and steadied your breathing, eyes bearing into his. "I mean where did the name come from." You simpered. "My last name's Buchanan," he explained, his eyes flickering between each of yours. The moment was oddly intense, sending warm shivers through you. Your stomach broke out in frenzied butterflies. "Oh," you breathed, and with that, a content silence settled upon the both of you. After a few seconds, Bucky broke the silence. "I was just about to go on a stroll," He said smoothly, his eyes shining with mischief. "Care to join me?" And his hand brushed against yours once more.

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Comfortable silence had lingered for long enough, and Bucky wanted to hear your voice again. The leaves crunched beneath your feet as you walked, but Bucky's deep voice broke through the haze that nature's ambience has lured you into. "So, where'd you move from?" He asked, turning to peer at you as you did the same. "Leesville," you muttered, nostalgia washing over you. You'd never had the most exciting social life, but Leesville had still been your childhood home. The look of gloom that clouded your expression made Bucky's hand move on it's own. He reached towards your face, hand cupping your jaw as his thumb swiped over your lips. "Strawberry juice," he mumbled softly in response to your look of surprise. Once again, the blush he had reacted so extremely to before sprung back to life, an almost inaudible groan sounding from his throat instinctively. You blinked at him, the same blank expression settling on your face, your lips parting as you exhaled shakily. You couldn't wrap your head around how easily this man was effecting you, this stranger, this new friend.

The two of you spoke and walked until the sky began to darken, when the realisation that lunchtime had long passed hit you. A small gasp left your lips, as you spun to face Bucky. His eyebrow quirked in confusion, to which you yelped, "I was supposed to be back home for lunch!" You absentmindedly grasped his hand and began to rush back the way you came, before his hand tightened around yours, the realisation of your action falling over you. You quickly dropped your hand and continued speed walking until you passed the tree you had sat at. Huffing, and clutching your chest in exhaustion, you heard Bucky catch up with you, his strides long and steady. "I'll walk you home. Besides, you're a big girl, I'm sure your parents won't mind." He insisted. You just stared at him as he began to walk ahead of you, glancing back at you just how he had that morning, until your senses came back to you and the panic clouding your mind subsided. He was right. You were old enough to get home a whatever time you wanted - except, it was more so to do with your safety than your age.

Rounding the corner and approaching the both of your houses, Bucky cleared his throat. You looked at him expectantly, and your mouth hung slack when you processed what he had to say. "Would you like to have coffee with me tomorrow?" He'd asked. This man, this god-carved hunk, the most attractive man you'd admittedly ever seen, was asking you, a girl he'd only just met, a girl at least 10 years younger than him, out to coffee. You'd assumed he only walked with you out of politeness, because he'd bumped into you and introduced himself. You'd assumed he was only being courteous because you had just moved in. But no, he had walked with you because he, James Buchanan, wanted to walk with you. He, burly Bucky, wanted to spend time with you. It was his eyes, exploring yours in expectance, that bought you back from the depths of your thoughts. You gulped, unable to verbally accept his offer, and nodded. You were eager, don't be mistaken, but you'd never had any friends. You knew you were attractive, but to be thrown from your typical lonely state into a state of possible romance shook you. Bucky, leaving you just as he had greeted you, chuckled in response and shook his head at your obvious nervousness. "How does 11 work for you?" He asked, not even expecting a verbal answer anymore. You only nodded again, before quickly heading up your porch steps and into your strangely quiet home, leaving Bucky behind you, smirking, eyes dark and hooded.

Author's Note: Okay, I'm quite nervous to publish this... this is my first time allowing my writing to include outward sexuality. I'm hoping it isn't too cringey? This is also my first series! So I'm hoping it turns our nicely. Enjoy!!

Taglist: (comment to be added.) @chemtrails-club

#mafia bucky barnes #mafia bucky x reader #mob bucky au #mob bucky x reader #mob bucky barnes #mafia au #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes series #bucky barnes #dark bucky x reader #dark bucky barnes #dark steve rogers #mob steve #mob steve rogers #mafia steve rogers

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