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lyn31 · 5 months ago

Text

Accident? 🐱😽

Summary:

When you grows cats ears and tails, how would you think your boyfriend react?

Notes:

This is a prompt from @chryssikyu I thought it was very cute, it still are but uh I might've gone overboard? Oops? Well hopefully it's still enjoyable ahahaha Pairing: Zayne x Reader/MC

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It’s just like any other day. You’ve just finished your mission and returned home, standing in your kitchen, grabbing the leftover dinner Zayne made earlier. With food in hand, you hum to yourself as you walk toward the dining table, only to hear Zayne call your name. Then he appears at the door, holding a test tube.

“What is this?” he asks, his face as stoic as ever, but you can see a hint of concern. “Doesn’t look like something you should be bringing home, does it?”

"Ah." A closer look confirms it—you definitely shouldn’t have brought it home. “Where did you find it?” you ask, stretching your hand toward the tube.

Zayne doesn’t hand it over immediately. “In your jacket.” He tilts his head, waiting for an explanation.

“It’s nothing dangerous.”

At that, Zayne lifts an eyebrow.

“I mean, yeah, that shouldn’t have been in my pocket, but I have no idea how it got there.”

“Well, you do have a habit of pocketing anything in your hand.” You can hear the teasing tone in his voice.

You roll your eyes. “I do not!” But his teasing smile makes you pause. “Well… okay, sometimes. But not all the time! Either way, I should get that back to the lab. It’s supposed to help Hunter fight Wanderers, but it’s not quite a success yet.”

Zayne hums, waiting expectantly.

“I heard it’s nothing bad, though. The effect is reversible. The last guy who breathed in the fumes was fine after 24 hours.”

Zayne’s brow furrows. “24 hours? That’s a long effect. What exactly does it do?”

You shrug. “I didn’t hear that part.” You reach out again. “It’s better than most things their research usually—”

Zayne hesitates, his fingers tightening around the test tube before he finally exhales and hands it back to you.

“Alright. I’ll just put it in my pack and secure it properly.”

You take a step forward, but somehow, your foot catches, and—

Crash. The glass shatters against the floor.

Zayne reacts instantly, grabbing your arm and steadying you, his grip firm. But the damage is done. A faint wisp of blue smoke curls upward, and before you can even think to hold your breath, you inhale.

A sharp tickle burns through your nose. Your eyes water. Then—

Sneeze.

Zayne cups your face, his hands warm and steady. “Are you okay?”

You blink against the stinging sensation and rub your nose. “Ugh. All good,” you mutter between sneezes.

Zayne watches closely, scanning for any changes. When you sneeze, his hand steadies you before you even register the movement.

“We’re going to the lab, or the hospital.” His voice is firm, but his touch remains gentle, he slowly leads you forward.

“Ah, no, no, I’m fine.” You stop sneezing now and really do feel… normal. “Like I said, it should be fine. Even if something happens, it’ll go away. We don’t need to go.”

Zayne’s brow furrows further. “It’s better to be safe than sorry.”

But of course, you just shake your head. “No, really, I’ll tell you if I feel anything, alright? Besides, I want to eat.” You give him your best puppy-dog eyes, pleading.

Zayne scans your face, then your whole body, searching for any sign of distress. After a long moment of silence, he finally sighs, resting a hand on your shoulder.

“Alright. Tell me if anything—and I mean anything—feels different, okay? Eat your meal. I’ll clean up.” He presses a soft kiss to your forehead before turning to grab cleaning supplies.

With that settled, you return to the kitchen and start eating. After finishing, you wash your plate in the sink. You’re just about to look for Zayne when you feel an itch in your ears. You scratch them absentmindedly as you walk toward the living room. The more you touch them, the thicker and softer they feel beneath your fingers.

Zayne sits at his laptop, fingers tapping against the keys in steady rhythm. The soft glow of the screen casts shadows over his face. When he hears your footsteps, he barely glances up at first.

“Do you still feel—”

Then he really sees you.

His fingers freeze mid-keystroke, his grip tightening around the edge of his laptop before he slowly leans back, his gaze locked on you. His mouth parts slightly, but no words come out, as if his brain is still catching up with what he’s seeing..

“What?” You frown, rubbing your ears again. They still feel itchy, weird. “Something on my face?”

Zayne doesn’t answer immediately. He just stares.

That’s never a good sign.

You grab his phone from the coffee table, flipping it to the front camera as you sit next to him. The moment your reflection comes into view, you freeze.

“Oh shit—” You grimace. Slowly, you reach up, touching your ear, half-expecting them to disappear under your fingers. Your face hasn’t changed much, but your ears… they’re clearly different. They’ve turned into cat ears—white cat ears—starkly contrasting with your dark hair. You look at Zayne. He looks at you, he exhales slowly, measured. “…We’re going to the lab.”

Zayne starts to stand, but you grab his arm and pull him back down.

“No, wait! It’s fine. It’ll change back tomorrow!”

His frown deepens.

“Darling, listen.” His voice is soft as he gently touches your ears, making you shiver. “This is clearly not fine. We’re going back to the lab.”

“No, Zayne, really! I’ll just contact them, and you can ask them too, okay?” You really don’t want to get nagged about this. Handling it over the phone is a compromise. By tomorrow, when the effect wears off, hopefully the nagging will too.

You watch his expression shift—his jaw tightening, fingers tapping against his thigh as he debates whether to just carry you to the car anyway. But after a while, he exhales through his nose and sighs.

“Alright. Call away.”

So you call your colleague, report what happened, and let Zayne ask a million questions to make sure you’re really fine. After an hour, the matter is settled.

“See? All good, right?”

Zayne exhales softly, shaking his head. His face stays neutral, but you catch the subtle ease in his eyes—the quiet relief he won’t admit.

“All good, huh? Just don’t leave my sight, alright? We still don’t know for certain.” He kisses your lips—a quick, chaste kiss—before going back to his laptop, glancing at you briefly before returning to his work.

So, you grab the remote and turn on the TV. Truthfully, for the past hour, you’ve been feeling the same itch—not in your ears this time, but lower. And you have a pretty good idea of what’s happening.

And then you feel it. You flinch as an unfamiliar sensation prickles at the base of your spine. Your fingers twitch, reaching back—only to freeze the moment you feel it. Soft. Fluffy. Moving.

Your breath catches, and you shift in your seat, testing the strange new weight behind you. Zayne immediately notices, his eyes flicking to you before trailing downward. His gaze lingers for a moment, then slowly lifts back to your face.

“Well… they did say the tail would show up, right?” you say, voice uncertain as your fingers hesitantly brush over the unfamiliar appendage.

Zayne lets out a slow breath, his brow furrowing slightly. Without a word, he reaches out, resting one hand on your shoulder and the other over yours, stilling your movements. “Anything else feel weird? Any pain?” His grip is steady, grounding, his gaze locked onto yours as he searches for any sign of discomfort.

You shake your head.

After another moment of scrutiny, he gets up. When he returns, he has a blanket. Zayne wraps the blanket around you, his movements careful, deliberate. His fingers brush against your ears, barely lingering before he pulls away.

“Anything uncomfortable?” His voice is softer now, but the concern is still there.

You shake your head again.

He kisses the top of your head and heads to the kitchen. A few minutes later, he’s back with a cup of chamomile tea, setting it gently on the table in front of you before returning to his laptop.

You curl up with the tea, taking a sip. It tastes stronger than usual… or maybe your senses are sharper now. You refocus on the TV.

For a while, the sound of the TV and Zayne’s typing fills the room. You scratch your ears gently. It feels nice. Really nice. You remember how good it felt when Zayne did it earlier. You glance at him, still working, but… shouldn’t he be paying more attention to you?

Yes. Yes, he definitely should.

Feeling restless, you inch closer, nuzzling against his side, seeking his comfort.

Zayne glances at you, ruffling your hair, kissing the top of your head. But just as you start to enjoy his touch, he returns to his laptop.

Pouting, you move closer, pressing against his side, but when he doesn't react, you move with more intent—climbing into his lap, settling against him.

Zayne exhales lightly, amusement flickering in his eyes as his hands automatically move to steady you.

"And what exactly is this?"

Instead of answering, you nuzzle into his neck, arms draping around him. He hums, rubbing small circles into your back.

But then his hands return to his keyboard, and you frown.

Not acceptable.

So you shift, straddling him, tilting his chin up before kissing him—first softly, then trailing down his face, his neck.

“Darling,” His voice is teasing, “I’ll finish this in a bit, then I’ll play with you, alright?”

You shake your head at this, stopping your licking and clinging onto him. You take one of his hands and guide it to your tail. You hear his chuckle, and then he strokes it slowly, heeding your request. The moment his fingers brush your tail, a sharp jolt sparks through you—almost like static electricity. It feels really nice, like an itch finally being scratched.

“Hmm, this does feel like a real cat tail—”

You cut off his words with a sudden purr. The sound vibrates in your throat before you even realize it, and your eyes widen. Wait… did I just…?

His fingers twitch against your tail before going completely still. You feel the way Zayne stiffens when your purring starts—a sharp inhale, his fingers flexing against your hips before gripping tighter. His throat bobs, and for a moment, he doesn’t move, as if he's trying to gather himself.

A slow, teasing sway of your hips earns you a low, involuntary groan, his breath hot against your ear. He doesn't move, but the tension in his body is unmistakable but other than that he still doesn’t move.

“Zayne?” You pull your face from his neck, trying to look at him when suddenly, you’re pushed down onto the couch. Zayne is on top of you, caging you in on both sides.

“This is dangerous, don’t you think?” His voice is much, much lower now, sending a shiver through you.

Now that you can finally see his face, his hazel eyes are more intense, filled with desire that he’s still trying to restrain. The tips of his ears are red. You simply tilt your head at his question, nuzzling against his hand, holding onto it.

You hear him sigh. He touches your cheek, and you automatically lean into him, seeking his touch. So, he tilts your face up, forcing you to look at him.

“Are you aware of what you’re doing?”

“Of course I do?” What a strange question, you think. You’re definitely aware of what you’re doing—it’s not like you’re drunk. So, you keep nuzzling against his touch, holding his gaze.

His gaze flickers, like he’s calculating his choices again. Then, he kisses your forehead gently. Studying your face once more, he asks,

“What do you want, darling?”

His tone is so soft, the same as his expression, making your stomach flip-flop. You take his right hand and place it on your ears.

“Touch me, please,” you say softly, already closing your eyes as his hand makes contact.

And so, he does.

He strokes your ears gently, and you feel blissful—so nice, so relaxing. It feels really good. You find yourself leaning into his touch. He kisses the area just below your right ear, his lips warm against your skin. His hand continues stroking your left ear as he trails slow kisses upward.

You gasp when his lips reach your ear. He licks it, nibbling slightly, and the sensation makes you purr again—something you can’t seem to stop. You squirm beneath him, heat pooling in your stomach.

He chuckles softly against your skin, his warm breath sending more shivers down your spine. His fingers continue caressing your ear, slow and deliberate, as if testing just how much you can take.

“You’re really something else,” he murmurs, his tone laced with amusement and something deeper, something that makes your stomach tighten.

His fingers trail down, brushing along your jaw before tilting your chin up—slow, deliberate, like he’s savoring the moment.

His hazel eyes bore into yours, dark and unreadable, as if weighing his next move. You hold his gaze, your breath unsteady, ears twitching under his touch.

The corner of his mouth twitches, like he knows exactly what he's doing to you.

“Zayne…” his name leaves your lips in a soft whisper, and that seems to be the last straw.

His breath ghosts over your skin before his lips press against your neck—slow and deliberate.

The contrast is dizzying—the heat of his mouth, the teasing stroke of his fingers against your ear. You shiver beneath him, your breath hitching as his lips travel lower, marking a slow, possessive path.

Then his fingers trace along your tail, and a warm pulse spreads through your spine, making your toes curl involuntarily. Your breath hitches, the sensation sparking deep in your core.

He notices.

Zayne's grip tightens, his palm gliding along the length of your tail with agonizing slowness. Your thighs instinctively press together, heat coiling low in your stomach. His voice, thick and rough, brushes against your skin. "That sensitive, huh?"

He strokes again, and this time a soft whimper escapes you, followed by another involuntary purr. His breath hitches, forehead pressing against your shoulder as he steadies himself before continuing. His teeth grazing the shell of your ear. His free hand presses against your lower back, keeping you exactly where he wants you, but he’s the one unraveling.

Your purring deepens, vibrating against his chest, and you feel his body tense even more. He lets out a ragged breath, his fingers twitching slightly. For a moment, he just lingers there, letting the sound wash over him.

“You keep making that sound,” his voice is rough, almost strained, “and I won’t be able to stop.”

You nuzzle against his touch again, silently asking for more, your tail curling slightly in his grip.

“Then don’t stop.”

He grunts, his fingers digging into your hips for half a second before he exhales sharply—then suddenly, you're flipped over. Your face is pressed against the couch now, your body pinned beneath him. His weight hovers over you, just enough to remind you how easily he could take control. His breath brushes against your ear as he leans in, voice thick with amusement and something darker.

“So, the kitty wants to play?” His voice is thick with amusement, but his eyes are dark with something else.

His words send a shiver down your spine, but before you can respond, his tongue flicks against your ear, slow and deliberate. His teeth graze the tip before he sucks lightly, making you gasp. One of his hands keeps him propped up so he doesn’t crush you, but the other? It slides back down to your tail, this time gripping, stroking with purpose.

A sharp jolt of pleasure runs through you, your body reacting before you can even process it. You arch against him, pressing your hips back, chasing more of that friction.

A strained chuckle escapes him, his breath hitching for a split second before he recovers. His grip on your tail tightens, his hips pressing forward, drawn to the heat of your movements. “Look at you…” His voice is lower now, rougher. His fingers flex, the pressure teasing, almost testing. “So sensitive here.”

His kisses trail down your neck, lingering, slow. He shifts, brushing your hair aside, exposing more skin. The moment his lips reach the back of your neck, he stills, his breath warm against you. Then, his mouth opens against your skin, tongue tracing slow circles before his teeth sink in just enough to make you squirm.

A deep sound rumbles in his chest at your reaction. He doesn’t stop, tracing a slow, burning path along your tattoo—licking, sucking, biting—as if branding himself into your skin. The sensation is overwhelming, a push and pull between heat and restraint, between teasing and claiming.

Your fingers find his free hand, gripping it tightly, nails digging into his skin as you writhe beneath him. You don’t even realize you’re pressing back against him again, your body moving on instinct. A low, guttural groan leaves his lips when he feels it—when he feels you.

“Impatient,” he murmurs, but his voice is different now—rough, strained, like he’s barely holding himself together. His hold on your tail shifts, fingers pressing in just enough to feel the way you twitch under his touch. He watches closely, taking in every reaction, his breath stalling for half a second before he strokes again, slower this time—almost like he’s testing both your limits and his own.

You catch a glimpse of him from the corner of your eye—his hazel eyes, dark and heavy-lidded. His breath uneven as he watches you, drinking in every movement, every sound you make. And yet, even now, he’s restraining himself.

“Stop teasing,” you whisper, breathless. “Touch me properly.”

For a moment, he doesn’t move, but you can feel the tension in his body, the way his muscles tighten, the way his grip on you trembles just slightly. And then, his hand shifts, trailing down from your tail, following the curve of your body, stopping just short of where you need him most.

His lips brush against your ear as his voice drops lower. “You’re making this really hard for me.” His fingers press into your skin, his restraint slipping with every second. “You keep pushing me, and I don’t think you even realize it.”

He exhales sharply, his forehead dropping to your back. His fingers twitch against your waist before curling into a fist, knuckles pressing into the cushion beside you. Then, he shaking his head.

"I need a second," he mutters, his voice strained, like he’s barely keeping himself together.

He stills. The heat between you, thick and all-consuming, is nearly too much to bear. You shift beneath him, silently begging, but instead of giving in, he exhales, slow and controlled.

Then, his lips press against your shoulder—soft, lingering. His fingers, which had been tracing slow, burning lines along your skin, suddenly retreat.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” His voice is low, amused, and maddeningly composed.

You turn your head slightly, trying to catch his expression, but he only smile, his hands settling on your waist in a way that’s possessive yet withholding.

“Maybe I should make you wait a little longer,” he muses, his fingers brushing over your tail in a teasingly light touch that makes you shudder. “See how much you can take.”

Your breath hitches. “Zayne—”

He presses another kiss to your shoulder before shifting back slightly, as if deciding to draw this out just a little more.

His fingers trail lower, gliding down the curve of your back until they brush over the base of your tail. The touch is unhurried, intentional, and when you tense beneath him, he exhales softly—like he’s committing the reaction to memory.

"Still so sensitive," he murmurs, his voice quiet, almost thoughtful. His fingertips stroke over the spot again, this time with more intent, savoring the way your body shifts beneath his touch.

You shiver, pressing subtly into the sensation, but before you can move too much, his palm settles at the small of your back, keeping you in place. His other hand glides over your hip, his thumb smoothing slow circles into your skin.

"You wanted this," he says, his voice a deep hum, warm and steady. He leans forward slightly, his chest just barely brushing your back as his hand slides up your spine, fingertips tracing along the dip of it with aching slowness. "And now you're trembling for me."

His grip tightens—not rough, but firm, grounding you beneath him. Then his fingers drift lower, teasing along the inside of your thigh, never quite where you want them. The anticipation pulls tight between you, each second stretching unbearably.

"You always push," he says, his tone quieter now, almost indulgent as he watches you react to him. His fingers continue their slow path upward, lingering at the curve of your hip, never quite giving in. "But the moment I touch you like this…" His thumb skims higher, barely there. "You melt so easily."

His hand moves back to your tail, fingers tracing its base with the same aching slowness. The movement is tender, reverent even, as if he’s savoring every shift and sigh you give him in return. His other hand rests at your lower back, his touch warm, steadying.

He leans down, pressing the lightest kiss just below your ear, his breath warm against your skin. "You’re too easy to spoil," he murmurs, amusement lacing his words, though there's something softer beneath it.

Then, with one last slow caress over your tail, he chuckles, low and teasing. "I should keep you like this a little longer."

The words linger between you, a promise, a challenge—one that sends another shiver down your spine. But when he shifts forward again, pressing a kiss to the nape of your neck this time, there's no mistaking the warmth in it, the quiet affection woven into his every touch.

Like he has no intention of letting you go just yet.

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flamingpudding · 1 year ago

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I have a theory!

Duke groaned, his head tumping against his desk on his side of the room. He had heard these words often enough by now to know that his roommate was going to start ranting about something strange but weirdly fascinating again.

The last time his roommate started with that, he went on a rant how all rich people have a secret basement below their homes or some secretly identities with a bulletpoint list of what to look out for as a warning. Which Duke had a hard time not laughing about as he thought about Bruce, who ended up checking a lot of the bulletpoints.

"Danny what is it now?" Duke ended up asking after all. He knew he wouldn't be able to stop his roommate. No one aside from his sister apparently could, Danny even gave her number to Duke as an emergency number in case Danny ever gets so caught up in his own thoughts that even he himself couldn't stop himself anymore. Yeah that was weird to watch Danny trying to stop himself, but it was fascinating that his sister only needed to say his name twice over the speaker.

"Duke hear me out!" Okay of to a good start, so this meant Danny wasn't a hundred percent behind his own theory.

"Red Hood is a ghost or part ghost!"

If Duke had been drinking something, he would have taken a spit take here. For some reasons he had the image of Jason wearing a bed sheet saying the most deadpan 'Boo' in his head when Danny said that. He coughed, trying to hide that amusement. "What makes you say that?"

"You know how you 'saw' that I am a 'Meta'?" Danny ask him in return and Duke nodded still feeling a but weird with how Danny sounded when he refred to himself as Meta but also vividly remembering how his roommate pretty much blinded him on the day he moved into the dorms. "I can kind of see something similar. Like I explained how I have a ghost sense and all that, right?"

"Yea, you did." Duke nodded along, he new his roommate became a Meta through a lab accident. Once Duke had asked him and they had the cleared the air about both of them being Metas, Danny had somewhat opened up a bit on his whole weird family and Duke thought his family wasn't normal but compared to the Fentons the Batfamily might as well could be.

"Well last night I ran into him when I went scrap collecting for my engineering project!"

"DANNY!" Duke couldn't help but scowl. One the school was providing materials, Danny didn't need to do that and two, if he met Red Hood aka Jason that meant Danny wandered far enough to end up near or in Crime Alley! He would need to bug Jason later to find out more about that.

"I know, I know." His roommate waved him off. "Anyway, my ghost sense tingled. Soooo Red Hood got to be a ghost or part ghost, considering he hit a wall instead of phasing through it when he chased me..."

"Danny!" Duke scowled him again, hidding his amusement behind it. Now, he really had to get THAT story out of Jason later, plus he wanted to see if there maybe was possible video proof of Jason running into a wall chasing after Danny.

"Anyway! I got more than just that! Listen here, you know how I told you about some of my parents' inventions..." Danny instead continued finally starting his rant.

#danny fenton #danny phantom #dp x dc #dpxdc #dcxdp #crossover #duke thomas #jason todd #duke and danny are roommates #danny has theories #and duke has to listen to them #some of them are really funny #he will use them to tease the rest of the batfam #random late night thoughts #stress writing #prompt idea

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erwinsvow · 2 months ago

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I can’t stop thinking about Jack or Pope’s reaction to reader wearing a sundress 😋 that’s it, that’s the tweet

😵‍💫imagining this made me a little dizzy not gonna lie. for jack it is somehow so much sweeter since he’s so used to seeing you in the same scrubs and like occasionally a hoodie or the patagonia everyone has (ik you know!!!). he tries to learn about you from the very little things like the college on your pullover, the sports team logo on the hoodie, whatever he can make out from the charms on your keys. and then even after you two start really dating you have to find a perfect time where one or both of you isn’t working to go on a real date, so i can imagine he does that romcom movie stare when he sees you, literally can’t stop looking, wonders how it’s legal for you to wear the same scrubs as him all day when you should be decked out in this all the time. and he is such a lover boy, has a favorite of all your dresses (the one from the first date! a close second is the one you wear at the residents retreat, when some rando was flirting with you and he swooped in and you introduced him to the rando as your boyfriend. randos face went pale and he said oh. dr. abbot. your boyfriend. and the memory of it makes him pleased to this day) also! if you have seen that video where the husband picks out a dress for the wife every anniversary, I think he would do something like that. or make sure that you get time to go pick out a new dress for the anniversary dinner (even when you have kids and he wrangles a crying toddler and fussy twins because he refuses to go on an anniversary date without your new dress) dreamy sigh guys

pope!!!!!! it’s so warm and sunny there I think he’d be used to seeing you in a pretty dress all the time. and I think his reaction is the same every time—comes and keeps a hand around your waist the entire time you’re around other people, doesn’t let go until he’s got you home safely alone and even then he’s so touchy. i think he gets to that point where he likes that he can show you off but everyone knows who you belong to so it’s fine if that makes sense. and especially babysitter or wifey or whatever else we think of for him. especially!!!!!!! this man would have you knocked up like year round so especially when it’s too hot to even think about putting on pants in the summer over your belly. like I think he goes feral when he sees you pregnant in a pretty dress holding Lena’s hand and balancing a toddler on your hip. does that make sense. he’s like ok we need another one pronto

#so I think also think Sammy [blacks out] [dies]#no jk but one time you came to drop off lunch for Sammy in a very pretty #very short sundress and he has not stopped thinking about that day #like he thinks about it every day and thinks about the other guys making teasing him and Nate telling him he better lock you down #okay I’m DIGRESSING #thank you for this prompt I loooooved it #as a sundress girl this is <3 slay #just bought a yellow one the other day actually!!!!#📮 asks #pope cody #jack abbot

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sunsents · 6 months ago

Text

Tsu-tey - The Age of Arrogance (3) (M)

CHAPTER 3

MINI SERIES MASTERLINK

➵ chapter summary: Things become heated between you and Tsu'tey after his awkward apology.

➵ pairing: enemies to lovers, tsu'tey x fem!reader(no use of y/n)

➵ word count: 3k

➵ warnings: mature themes, hints at masturbation, cursing, banter, depictions of injury and blood (very minor)

DON’T REPOST MY WORK

Tsawl Pamtseo Tsko Kllte - a large musical instrument that stands on the ground

tawtute - demon

nantang - viperwolf

skxwang - idiot

angstik - hammerhead titonathere

TSU'TEY POV

Every respectful Omaticayan man starts his day off with a morning hunt to soothe their hunger and provide for their clan. Tsu'tey is no different.

This time around, he's limping to the riverbank to have a nice bath and ease his aching shin with hot water and a message– because clearly, he's underestimated your strength.

As he lathers himself up with herbs, he realizes how he's underestimated you. You, with your strange tawtute words, four fingers, and hairy forehead. The attitude that carried itself so effortlessly and dripped off of your every move and every word made him want to stick his head into a nantang nest.

After the forced apology deep in the forest, and after discoverşing Reytan's efforts of courtship, the following week has been torture. He feels the tiredness and ache drip off his firm muscles with every brush of the makeshift loofa JakeSully weaved for the people. As much as he hated to admit, the strange sky-demon inventions sometimes worked well. He still looks at it with distaste though, even after using it countless times and having made a habit to demand a new one every two weeks.

As the thing brushes against his arm, he thinks back at the last few days and the utter agony of arguing with you incessantly. He was familiar with you now, though the familiarity consisted of arguing and bickering about the most insignificant topics. He passed it off as tawtute arrogance first, but you were adamant about proving you were no longer one of them.

The ball of woven silk glides onto his chest smoothly, and his heart picks off at the thought of your smart mouth. Why was it that you had an answer for everything? Why were so adamant about going against his commands?

He huffs, closing his eyes and throwing his head back as the water runs down his chest to his abs. It was only yesterday you fought about where the musicians were to be seated in the upcoming hunting festival.

"They should be in the heart of the fun, not up at some pedestal!"

Tsu'tey groans, gritting his teeth. "Why be in the middle? That is stupid and distracting. The people dance in the middle! If we put Tsawl Pamtseo Tsko Kllte in the middle, you will bump into it."

You ignore Jake's weak 'G-guys, I'm sure there's an alternative.' and roll your eyes. "How in god's name do you accidentally bump into a gigantic flute?"

Tsu'tey's face contorts in annoyance. "I refuse to answer your unnecessary questions, tawtute."

You clench your fists."They're rhetorical, you jerk.”

The lingering traces of your gritted voice carry a smirk to his lips– one of many 'fights' he's had with you after his so-called apology. It was easy to anger you; at first, you pushed his buttons just as much as he pushed yours, but after your relationship got into a rhythm where he said something and you made it your mission to counteract it, he started enjoying the strange arrangement. Especially seeing your flushed face and large eyes, peering up at him between your dark lashes. You would always march right up at him with clenched fists and a quip dripping from your tongue, and in those moments, he imagined harshly grabbing your face and pulling you into a heated kiss until your breaths became one.

He groans into the open air, the loofa brushing against his hardening cock ever so gently. He grits his teeth and squeezes his eyes shut to calm his urges–his instincts that light a fire inside his abdomen and make him act unlike a respectable man.

No, ever since you looked at him with those fearful, haunting eyes he ceased to be a respectful man. Those very eyes that slowly became unwilling and sparkling with mirth.

Yearning for a dream-walker mate was never in his plans. He supposes you were one of the people now, but you despised him. Especially after he masked his attraction with spiteful insults.

Then, of course, there was that skxwang who was shamelessly courting you.

Tsu'tey remembers Reytan as a bright kid who was eager to learn how to hunt the biggest plays and where to filet his fish first to appeal to the softest meat. Not as an adult Omaticayan man ready to court a woman and settle down into domestic bliss - with you, no less.

Reytan would have it no other way, Tsu'tey realized. This past week, his pathetic courting attempts worsened– Tsu'tey could laugh. You didn't enjoy angstik meat, nor did you like scaling through trees as a means of spending time together.

What a failure, surely Tsu'tey could have wooed you much easier. It seemed as though you just needed some affection— some attention and cooing. Tsu'tey smirks, he would turn you into a stuttering, blushing fool if he so wished.

At least that's what he says to soothe his ragged ego. After being saved by you, almost losing his position as Olo'Eyktan, and having to deal with the tasteless fruits of his injuries, his pride is in the depths of Eywa, and pulling it back has proven to be painstakingly difficult.

After rubbing his body clean and ignoring his hardening cock at the thought of you, thoughts he's done his best to deny while his Na'vi instincts buzzed his entire body, he carefully steps out of the boiling water. Glancing around, he quickly gets dressed and makes his way to Hometree in undignified haste.

Like every morning, the people are in a scurry to start their morning duties; the stomach-grumbling scent of fresh fruits and the fumes of sizzling meat; mates scrambling after their little ones to calm them down and perhaps convince them to wear their clothes properly; teenagers rubbing their eyes to rid their tiredness and aching bodies.

The atmosphere is as lively as always, accompanied by the chirping and squawking of neighboring birds. The chatter resonates around the large community and beautifully accentuates the morning beat of drums and strings.

People greet Tsu'tey as he walks, but he's a man on a mission. His stomach gurgles in warning, and he has no choice but the start a jog fueled by nothing but his hunger. He spots Jake and Neytiri amidst the morning chaos, with Jake trying to weave a new armband and Neytiri sharpening her bows. They're chatting animatedly as they work. Stopping next to Jake, when the man offers him breakfast, he fights the urge to grab his face and kiss his strangely thin lips.

"Someone's hungry." Jake chuckles, abandoning his poorly done weaving.

Tsu'tey grunts, shoving fruits into his mouth. "I hunted this morning."

"I see."

"The forest becomes prosperous when the cycle reaches hot temperatures." Neytiri chimes in, looking up from her skilled fingers making quick work of the piece of wood.

"Oh, so it's summer now?" Jake asks.

Tsu'tey and Neytiri look at each other. "What is that?"

"Never mind," Jake shakes his head, then picks up his weaving again when Neytiri throws him a look.

Zeir and Takuk soon join their circle of calm conversation and sharing of food. Tsu'tey feels himself relaxing in the calming atmosphere brought on by his trusted aides—something he needed after weeks of stress and restrained sexual desires. He distracts himself by starting a weaving of his own as well but soon realizes it's a pattern you adorn yourself in. As the thoughts of offering the piece of cloth to you surge in from the depths of his heart, his hands start to shake.

Your smell follows the panic, and he realizes you're near. The unfamiliar stench that accompanies you is enough proof that Reytan will follow in your wake and fuel the anger building inside of Tsu'tey.

"Morning party people," you stand next to Neytiri and thank her when she offers you a leaf of food. "Reytan was showing me good hunting spots. I had no idea we had a literal waterfall."

Your eyes sparkle as you dig into your food, completely oblivious to Tsu'tey's thumping heart that demands your attention. How dare you.

Reytan is quick to add on, and Tsu'tey just now realizes he's also here. "Yes, it is quite a young one."

Neytiri and Takuk are quick to join the conversation about Eywa's gift, but the only gift Tsu'tey can think of is the one being weaved unconsciously between his fingers. You're avoiding his gaze and infuriating Tsu'tey for no apparent reason.

Reytan looks at you. "I can show you other places if you want."

You smile. "Of course, I'd love that."

Tsu'tey almost snarls.

The grip on his weaving tightens and the pointed drums of wood are dangerously close to his skin.

"I am glad we are spending time together," Reytan shyly looks down, tail twitching.

You chuckle. "You're a good friend."

Tsu'tey pricks his finger. It was inevitable and strangely grounding. He feels the sting of the sharp tool imprinted on his cut skin. Deep crimson pools on the tip of his finger and slowly drizzles down his veins. With a hiss, he puts the digit in his mouth.

"Tsu'tey!" you gasp, and swat at his hand. Embarrassment causes him to lower his ears and purse his lips— he was getting jealous over a vrrtep and this notion caused the stinging burn on his finger to worsen. His collected and menacing persona was broken by a mere demon– only children got hurt like this. He was supposed to be Olo’eyktan.

His tail trashes behind him but he does nothing to control it. He needs to make his anger evident. Needs to protest against your will to help him. He doesn't need anyone's help.

You tut at the small cut. "It's small, I'll bandage you up."

"No-"

"Brother, go and get treated. We have an important hunting day tomorrow."

Unfortunately, Jake is right. Grumbling, he follows you into Mo'at's kelku and doesn't glance back at the sullen Reytan watching you walk away.

READER POV

While the kelku is otherwise empty, the intense gaze Tsu'tey has on your face makes you feel suffocated. With a thumping heart and a flushed face, you gently apply a bead of paste with nimble fingers on the small cut.

The silence is loud, filled with your thoughts.

The past week Reytan has been diligently courting you, and you were diligently rejecting his advances. The countless 'no's' and the 'please, I see you as a friend' repeated to the younger man inevitably caused the feelings inside of him to diminish.

However, they were not completely gone. They would never be fully gone unless you mated with another man, or he was to find someone else, you realize. And as you think this, you glance at Tsu'tey, feel your heart drop, and then swear under your breath.

It wasn't that you didn't consider Reytan, you truly tried. But trying wasn't enough. The attraction you've had for Tsu'tey was undeniable, and seeing the man almost every day made your urges almost impossible to ignore.

After his apology, you've fallen into a strange rhythm of friendship(?) with the man. You had love for him, this was a given. Did he have love for you? Maybe sometimes when you weren't being particularly nit-picky. He rendered you speechless every day—with abstract strategies, insults with absolutely no filter towards clan members he has distaste, and the way he simply looks.

Determined to argue with him on everything and push his buttons, you had to simultaneously fall prey to his eye contact. Tsu'tey liked to hold intense eye contact, as he was doing now and staring at two gaping holes on your head. You were entirely too focused on his finger, but how interesting could a finger be? Surely not more than him.

No sooner than you could say 'it could be much worse', your stomach takes the reins into her own hands and thunders. The waterfalls were quite mesmerizing, and as you dumbly admired falling water for almost an hour, you neglected breakfast. The gurgling noise breaks the serene quiet of the kelku as you apply a darker ointment around the edges of his finger.

Tsu'tey doesn't say anything, but it's no doubt he heard. If he didn't, your stomach reminds him again. Watching his ears flicker is a giveaway that he's picked up the abominable sound and itching to comment on it. When it happens again (bless your poor heart, was this punishment for the pranks you have been pulling on Jake during your hunting parties?).

Tsu'tey snorts. "Are you okay?"

"Shut up," you grumble, or gurgle.

Tsu'tey cackles, slapping his knee with his uninjured hand. Would a prick even count as an injury, after nearly dying? "Eywa! I thought it was going to rain. I was about to warn the others!"

"Just...shut up." you hiss through gritted teeth, unable to hold your smile at bay. Fuck, as if a stomach gurgle wasn't embarrassing enough, it had to grace your day in front of Tsu'tey.

With tears in his eyes, Tsu'tey's laugh booms around the space. The raspy timbre bubbling from deep within his chest tickles your ears—he laughs with his entire body, chest bobbing and eyes crinkling. Your heart takes flight and flutters around Tsu'tey's laugh before landing right on the left side of his chest.

It was inevitable, his laugh was contagious. "Not another word from you." you giggle.

Tsu'tey gives you a pointed look.

"Speak for yourself." he cackles, his head careening towards your stomach. With his eyes shut and face pinched, he doesn't realize he’s digging his head into your navel and causing you to squirm.

Having never touched his firm skin lest you count saving his life, you merely freeze and hope intimacy is common amongst Na'vi.

Tsu'tey's shoulders stop bobbing. With no warning, his body becomes slack and hot under your soft touch—merely his forehead grazing against your navel. You can feel him take a deep breath when his chest expands and his nose almost flutters.

Short-cutting is an understatement. The soft breath Eywa lets out amongst the sunny afternoon rustles the intricate chimes hung loosely outside the half-opened flap. The breeze peeks inside to rush across your skin gently, to softly raise the hair until it prickles like needles.

Tsu'tey raises his head, and in doing so, lights fires inside you when his braids tickle your stomach. The beads in the skilled weaving of his hair chime in warning to Eywa—almost butting heads, and the reward is ear-ringing silence.

His eyes slowly roll up, until they settle on you. You think he's lit up from the inside when his freckles glint and eyes glow. He makes it hard to look away as if he's daring you with his intense gaze. You can't, anyways.

Your tail mimics your heartbeat beautifully, swaying from side to side with unintentional thumps on the wooden floor. You watch Tsu'tey's eyes turn half-lidded and hazed as he observes you. The intimacy is settling around your bones and enhancing his irresistible pull. As though he's testing the waters, pushing to see how much you'll let him until you pull– his tail gently wraps around your thigh. Your breath hitches because it's possibly the softest thing you've ever felt, like velvet or fresh grass after fruitful rain.

He pulls you forward until you have no choice but to hold onto his shoulder for support, then look down at him with wide eyes. Your heart beats throughout your entire body as the waves of pleasure run through your veins in deep crimson.

Cursing his large eyes, you struggle to catch your breath. His hand slowly settles on your hip– Tsu'tey touch is soft and never what you've imagined it to be. He's a callous man with sharp edges that stab if you try your luck, but the man gazing up at you with lidded eyes is nothing but. He's beautiful and warm, you relish.

"Vrrtep..." he breathes a secret whisper, like a reminder. But it does nothing of the sort. Guiding his other hand on your other hip, he can now steer you however he wants and you'd probably let him take the reins with no protest. He mindlessly pulls you again until your knees bump against each other. He's clinging onto you which is an obscene scene. Especially when he was itching to get away from you last week and on his deathbed. Succumbing to his mindlessness, you lean forward when he urges you with the tightening of his tail.

"Tsu'tey, are you okay?"

Jumping away from Tsu'tey in panic, you scramble to gather yourself and the medicinal tools scattered about the floor. Jake struts into the marui with large steps and surveys Tsu'tey. You don't know what he sees because you refuse to look, but it must be something interesting enough to pull out an awkward chuckle from his lips.

Standing straight with heaps of objects clutched in your shaking hands, you struggle to keep your composure. "He's all patched up...I need to go water the uh, waterfalls."

Quickly running out of the kelku causes a gust of cold wind to hit your face and realize the severity of the situation. If Jake hadn't interrupted you, what would he have done? What would you have done?

His lips were right there, and if you had leaned in just an inch-

Stopping your sprint, you kneel to your hunches and hold your head. You've mindlessly run into the forest, hoping to escape your feelings, but they're attached to your heart with a mighty strong grip. You huff out a breath, then stand up. Starting a slow walk, you think about the past month with these new revelations.

Tsu'tey's always been indifferent but the ache of being ignored dulled after two weeks, then merged into hatred. The thin line between aggravation and romantic feelings blurred—well, you don't know when or where, but it did.

Perhaps your feelings stemmed from the admiration you've had for him or the hidden fantasies you entertained every night with your hand between your legs.

Frustrated, you decide to walk to Hometree and finish your duties for the day early.

#avatar the way of water #avatar #teasing prompts #avatar twow #tsu'tey x y/n #tsu'tey x you #tsu’tey te rangloa ateyitan #tsutey #tsu'tey x reader #james cameron avatar #jake sully #avatar 2009

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loulou-land · 5 days ago

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Congrats on 300! I hope you're still accepting prompts (I was burying my head in the sand/avoiding tumblr for a few days). Anyway I'd love some salbucktommy fluff.

Judy!!! Thank you 🥹💗

So, this is almost three months late and I’m actually almost at 400 followers now, oops 🫣 But better late than never! Here’s some salbucktommy cozy domestic fluffy vibes (despite what my snippet the other day hinted at though, there’s no smut in this. sorry 😅). I hope you enjoy it!

I’ve Found My Home at Last

Domestic Fluff, Comfort, Banter and Teasing, Soft Sal | 2k words | ao3

Sal walks into the house, letting the door shut softly behind him. He’s trying to be as quiet as he can since it’s past midnight and the rest of the house is silent.

He’d had the day from hell—someone, somewhere had uttered the qword and his station got struck with all the bad luck. It was the only explanation for the near constant stream of calls during his shift. And then during the last hour he’d gotten caught up in the paperwork and mind numbing reports that were part of his duty. By the time he left the station he felt a deep bone exhaustion, his body aching and his mind frayed.

Now, all he wanted was to crawl into bed and not be needed for anything.

The house is still, lights off, except for the kitchen light and a blue glow bleeding in from the living room. Someone must’ve forgotten to turn the TV off. He toes off his boots and shrugs off his jacket, rolling his shoulders to relieve tension.

When he steps into the kitchen, his eyes catch on a covered plate on the counter. He’s too tired to even feel hungry, but curiosity makes him lift the lid—and stops.

It’s lasagna. Specifically, Buck’s comfort lasagna.

A knot forms in his throat.

And, he wonders how Buck even found out about how shitty this day had been.

Then he remembers—he’d brought Buck and Tommy by the station a while back, wanting his team to meet them. He’d been nervous to share this part of his life, this important relationship, with his work family. He didn't have to worry though. Ellie and Nick had latched onto Buck immediately, thick as thieves by the end of the day. And Tommy had lit up like a little kid on Christmas when Tony had pulled him into a conversation about the old Plymouth he was restoring.

Busybodies, he thinks of his two firefighters, smiling faintly as he slides the Lasagna into the microwave.

The whirring hum fills the kitchen while he glances toward the living room. The TV is still on, some nature documentary playing on mute. On closer inspection, he realizes the couch isn’t empty.

He steps closer.

Tommy is slouched deep into the cushions, head tilted back, mouth parted in a soft snore. Buck’s sprawled across him like a puppy, long legs thrown over Tommy’s lap, head nearly hanging off the end of the couch. Even in sleep, he’s clutching his phone tightly in his hands.

They’d tried to wait up.

Sal shakes his head, affection blooming through the ache in his bones. Once he’d figure out he wouldn’t be leaving the station in time, he’d told them not to wait for him. Of course they did the opposite. Damn stubborn men, he thinks fondly.

He pads over quietly and brushes his hand through Tommy’s soft hair in a gentle motion. “T, you’re gonna get a crick in your neck sleeping like that.”

He runs a fingertip down Tommy’s lovely thick neck, grazing the faint outline of a hickey just above his collarbone. He wonders if it’s one of his—or one of Buck’s. The thought sends a thrill through him. Both of them leaving their mark, both of them claiming their man. And Tommy letting them. Encouraging it. Begging for it.

Tommy cuts off mid-snore, brow scrunching. “Mphm. What?”

Sal smirks, already anticipating the reaction he’s about to get. “You’re not as young as you used to be, hon. Can’t be doing couch nights anymore. How are you supposed to keep up with our firecracker like that?”

Tommy’s voice is gravelly with sleep as he squints up at him. “Did you just call me old?”

Sal does his best to look innocent, face perfectly blank. ”I’m just sayin’, last time you fell asleep on the couch, you spent the whole day complaining of back pain.”

Tommy snorts. “Look who’s talking. You’re more ancient than me—and your knees creak louder. Besides, I think I keep up just fine.” He mutters, shooting Sal a look that’s equal parts challenge and heat.

Even half-conscious, Tommy nails that perfect blend of bitchy and dry. Sal's lips twitch despite himself. God, he finds it hot. It’s why he ends up poking the bear nine times out of ten, because Tommy always gives as good as gets.

Sal chuckles, voice low. “That you do, amore. Always look so good fucking into Evan, don’t you?”

He gives Tommy’s hair a gentle tug, just enough to pull a soft, involuntary moan from Tommy.

“Yeah…” Tommy breathes out, then glances up at him with a smirk. “Just like you look good down on those creaky knees of yours, old man.”

Sal snorts, amusement and heat rolling through him. “Careful, you’re starting to act like the brat. See if I suck you off anymore,” he warns, voice rough.

Tommy licks his lips slowly, eyes dark and glinting with challenge.

He feels a frisson of desire run through him, quick and sharp, before it dissipates beneath the weight of his exhaustion.

Sal wishes he had the energy to make good on the promise in Tommy’s eyes. As it is, he barely has the strength to stay on his feet.

He lets go of Tommy’s hair and rounds the couch, sinking down onto Tommy’s other side with a low groan, careful not to disturb Buck, who shifts his foot onto Sal’s lap but doesn’t stir. Sal places a warm hand over the arch of Buck’s foot, leaning his head back and lets out a breath.

He’s once again grateful they’d finally found the perfect couch—one big enough to fit all three of them.

“How bad was it?” Tommy asks, his voice soft now, letting the earlier heat between them dissolve into something gentler.

Sal exhales. “Tom, I swear we got cursed.”

Tommy raises an eyebrow.

“No, seriously,” Sal says, lowering his voice, mindful of Buck still asleep. “We blew a fucking tire on the damn engine on our way back to the station. And once we were back in rotation, it was one dumbass call after another. I’m not kidding—every single person we dealt with today must've been dropped on their head.”

He rolls his head toward Tommy, who’s trying to look sympathetic, but his lips are twitching.

“That’s not a curse, Salvatore,” Tommy hums, eyes dancing. “That’s just a bad shift. And thanks, by the way, for sending Evan back down the curse rabbit hole. I think he was seriously considering making some kind of sacrifice in your name.”

Sal grins, glancing at Buck’s sleeping form. “Now that’s love. Remind me to give him an extra orgasm or two.”

Tommy snorts, but his hand, still resting on Buck’s thigh, gives a gentle squeeze. “So, I don’t love you just because I don’t believe in curses?”

“Babe, for being Italian, you sure suck at being superstitious,” Sal teases.

Tommy rolls his eyes. “Quarter Italian. And apparently, someone needs to keep a level head in this relationship.”

“Tommy, you freak out at spiders. Not to mention poultry.”

“They’re creepy little bastards with too many legs,” Tommy shudders, then narrows his eyes at him. “And Maurice doesn’t count. He had a knife.”

Sal starts snickering, finding the memory just a little bit too funny in that kind of post-shift exhaustion kind of way. Tommy just shakes his head, then lifts his free hand and cups the back of Sal’s neck, gently guiding him into a deep kiss.

Sal grunts, caught of guard—but then he melts into it. And just like that, the weight of the day begins to fade away, replaced with the burning intensity of Tommy’s attention.

Kissing Tommy always feels like a battle. Like the push and pull of a tug-of-war, but no matter who wins, he still comes out on top, still feels like he's conquered the world.

After a moment, Tommy sighs and pulls back just enough to rest their foreheads together. “Did you eat?”

Sal hums. “Wasn’t going to, but…” he glances at the man curled up across their laps, currently drooling onto the couch, and feels a sudden, staggering wave of love crash into him. “He made his lasagna.”

“Yeah,” Tommy murmurs. “He also made you Nonna’s tart.”

He inhales sharply, suddenly overwhelmed. Comfort lasagna and his favorite dessert. “Fuck…” He’s not gonna cry. He’s not.

He shifts, pressing his face into the curve of Tommy's neck, breathing in the familiar, grounding scent. His hand stays on Buck’s leg, needing the connection, the solid warmth under his palm.

Damn it, this exhaustion is turning him into a sappy fool.

But—

Two years ago, a night like this would've ended in silence and hunger. An empty apartment, devoid of warmth. No one waiting up for him.

And he thought he was fine with that. Thought he didn’t need more.

Until he reconnected with Tommy. And with him came Buck.

Now there’s food waiting after a long day.

Now there’s comfort and warmth.

There's laughter and love in every corner of their place.

Now…there’s a home.

Tommy pulls him closer, nuzzling at his hair. Sal melts further into him, heart aching in a different way.

“Are we hugging and nobody woke me?” a sleepy voice rumbles.

They both glance to the side. Buck is pushing himself up on his elbows, curls wild, eyes squinty, and a deep imprint of the couch pressed into one check.

Beautiful, Sal thinks.

“Sweetheart, you were asleep,” Tommy says gently. As if Buck's going to accept that reasoning, Sal thinks, amused.

Sure enough, Buck’s expression shifts into a pout—and Sal immediately wants to kiss it off his face.

“I still want cuddles,” Buck mumbles, frowning. Then he turns sharp eyes on Tommy. “And I told you to wake me up when Sal got home.”

“I’m sorry, baby. I thought you needed the rest,” Tommy replies dryly, then crooks a finger. “C’mere.

“Lies,” Sal snorts, throwing Buck a grin. “Don’t let him fool you, sunshine. He was sleeping like a baby when I got home.”

“Old man,” Buck teases, shifting onto his knees and crawling closer to them.

“Hey, now. I’m starting to get a complex here,” Tommy protests, though there's no heat in it.

“With the way Evan worships our gray hairs? As if,” Sal chuckles, tossing a wink at Buck. “Ain’t that right, kid?”

Buck flushes, glancing down at where he's taken one of Tommy’s hands into his lap, fidgeting with his fingers. “I—it’s hot,” he says shrugging, sheepishly.

“Trust me, we ain't complaining.”

“He’s right,” Tommy hums, pressing a kiss to Buck’s forehead. “Alright, give Sal his cuddles. I’m gonna go grab your plate,” he adds, directing it at Sal this time.

“Thanks babe. Love ya.”

Sal then opens his arms invitingly, and Buck scrambles onto his lap without hesitation.

“Hi,” Buck says softly, looking at him with those big blue eyes of his. And Sal’s heart clenches in his chest.

God, how did an ass like him get this lucky?

“Hey,” Sal replies, sounding like a love struck idiot and not caring one bit. He cradles Buck’ face and kisses him—slow and soft—letting the moment stretch, not taking it anywhere else. Just this is perfect enough.

Where kissing Tommy is all burning competition, kissing Buck is like a soothing balm. It’s new beginnings and the promise of happy endings, all wrapped into one.

Then he pulls back, and Buck settles into him, like it’s where he's always meant to be.

Buck grabs one of Sal’s hands, twining their fingers together.

Sal lets the warmth soak in. From Buck’s body, from the soft glow of the room, from the sounds of Tommy puttering around in the kitchen, getting his dinner.

Buck starts talking away, rambling about the article he read on curses, the rituals they should’ve tried, which somehow led him to a Substack on voodoo magic of all things.

Sal listens, half amused, half in awe.

This is his life now. And fuck, he wouldn’t change a single thing.

As he pulls Buck closer, humming in interest—because Buck deserves to be heard, even when he’s off on some wild tangent and Sal can barely keep up—and thinks:

Yeah, it’s good to be home.

#fic prompt #salbucktommy #salevantommy #bucktommy #sal deluca #tommy kinard #evan buckley #comfort #domestic fluff #banter and teasing

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justaz · 10 months ago

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arthur and all his knights know that merlin has magic (it’s a test leon sets up for each potential round table recruit, they follow merlin out while he’s doing magical things and leon falls behind for a bit to allow the potential recruit to find out merlin’s magic and then he rushes up all out of breath like “did i miss anything? :o” and if the potential recruit goes “nope! all good! he’s just gathering herbs :)” then leon tells arthur who allows them to sit at the round table) and arthur is secretly drafting a magic ban repeal along with all the laws of what kind of magic will be punishable by you know time in the dungeons, a fine, or banishment. merlin doesn’t know. the round table wants it to be a surprise.

anyway, some curse gets placed on camelot and they need a sorcerer and arthur + his knights watch gaius and merlin coming up with lies on the fly and cringing at how abysmal they are at lying and contemplating how they never found out sooner. gaius does the iconic line of “i have chosen a woman” as the sorcerer, or rather sorceress, to help them out. they have to hide their snickers at the look merlin sends him. uhh instead of the dolma this time tho, the potion turns him into a younger woman who merlin places the moniker of emrys upon.

merlin follows the knights out into the woods and starts his shenanigans. he conjures illusions of emrys to lead the knights all throughout the woods before transforming and meeting the illusion that led arthur astray. arthur is Staring bc hot damn is this sorceress hot- fuck its merlin…eh, merlin was always hot. it tracks he’d be hot as a woman. and she’s wearing purple! arthur always knew purple suited her. he expects emrys to be like dragoon or the dolma and be all sassy and witty but, well, she is witty! just…very, very flirtatious. arthur gets tongue tied at how touchy and seductive and alluring she is.

the other knights’ illusions lead them back together just without arthur and they’re chilling like “oh well, its merlin. he won’t hurt arthur”. emrys gives arthur the cure and brings him back to his knights who are surprised at the sudden appearance and draw their swords. emrys holds up her hands and smirks “i bring him unharmed,” then brings her fingers up to drag under arthur’s jaw, “can’t say much for being untouched.” she winks at arthur and waves her fingers at the knight, “see you around, arthur pendragon”

then she transforms back into merlin and appears behind the knights where lancelot gives him a Look to which he dutifully ignores. arthur asks where merlin is and the knights are like “he hasn’t returned” and merlin is like “hello?? yes i have?? i’m right here??” and the knights go “oh! there you are!! you were here the whole time!! i forgot :)” and merlin looks arthur up and down before teasing too much like emrys “got lucky with a sorceress, did you? imagine what your father would think” before turning and walking away leaving arthur. Hot. and. Bothered.

#the knights tease him the whole way home #arthur is a stuttering and blushing mess #merlin is very pleased and smug #bbc merlin #merlin emrys #arthur pendragon #merthur #knights of the round table #fanfiction #fanfic #fic ideas #prompts

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shadebloopnik · 1 year ago

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Unrequited/One-sided Radioapple but it isn't treated like an angsty end of the world thing.

Imagine they slowly get closer after all the banters, and eventually becoming close friends. Lucifer ends up catching feelings for him, and after a long while, decides to confess and ask Alastor if he felt the same.

Alastor admittedly does not feel the same.

He's getting uncomfortable, struggling to keep his composure because he's DONE this before. He KNOWS how this ends. He remembers Vox and all his insistent declarations of affection and desperate pleas for Alastor to reciprocate; the possessive entitlement. He remembers how all those sickly sweet words morphed into something venomous when he didn't give the lowlife what he wanted. He remembers the anger, the ridiculous notion that it was Alastor's fault why he was so mad, that Alastor led him on and that he obviously deserved something in payment for it all-

So yes, Alastor knows how this ends.

It doesn't mean he isn't disappointed though, because he actually LIKES Lucifer, far more than he ever did Vox. Perhaps not in the way the king might have wanted, but he did. He treasured their little talks, their drinking sessions, their shared love for their instruments, Lucifers singing, their little duets, the banter, the playful jabs, the sparring.

He'd even slowly grown accustomed to the other's touches, not feeling the same surge of disgust and discomfort whenever the shorter man would grab at his arm in excitement, forgetting his usual thoughtfulness of Alastor's touch aversion for the short moment of whatever distracted him. Alastor even enjoyed it at times, relaxing at the feel of soft feathers beneath his claws, or the sensation of gentle scratches against his ears.

Difficult as it was to admit, Alastor had grown to care for the angel, the same way he had for Rosie orv Mimzy.

But no matter how fond Alastor was of Lucifer, it didn't change the fact that he didn't feel the same way romantically, or even sexually. No way in the 7 rings of Hell was he going to lie to Lucifer about either, not going to even entertain the idea of pretending he reciprocated for Lucifer's sake. He respected his friend too much for that.

So a clear, direct rejection it is. It was a shame, but nothing could be done. He said his piece concisely, and waited, shoulders set, back straight, smile and eyes a careful blank canvas as he prepared for the inevitable.

Lucifer nodded, a normal soft smile still in place, "Thank you for your answer, it means a lot."

Which......what? Alastor expected an outburst, or at the very least sharp words.

What he did NOT expect was....acceptance? And not just that but, a happy one? Contentment?????

"You're....alright with that?", he had to ask, he had to. Lucifer was clearly just very good at masking his upset.

But the damn angel just smiled?? And it didn't even look fake, just as bright and soft as his normal smiles, albeit a little confused?? Lucifer smiled at him, his brows furrowing in a bit of confused disbelief, as though Alastor is being the weird one here.

"Uhh, yeah??? Why wouldn't I be??? Yeah I may have some feelings for you but its not like you're obligated to feel the same. Above anything else, we're friends first and foremost and i'm alright with that..."

Then he seemed to have reached his own little conclusion as his words trailed off, because suddenly Lucifer's eyes widened in realization of something, and his words picking up with a sense of panicked urgency.

Alastor would really like to know what Lucifer's supposed realization was about himself because he had absolutely no clue.

"I mean, we ARE still friends right?? I don't- I- I hope this doesn't like- change your opinion of me. You're not- oh gosh I'm not making you uncomfortable am I? I- I won't mention it! You can even forget this whole confession ever happened! We can just go on as before! I don't feel any different or would act any different! Honest! I mean, I don't regret confessing because you deserve to know and I'm not ashamed of my feelings, but I don't want you to be uncomfortable! It doesn't change the way i'll treat you! Or change any aspect of our relationship! I don't even think I like you more as a lover than as a friend! I really, really do love our friendship, it matters more to me than any thoughts of being in a romantic relationship with you! So please just forget it all-"

Alastor let the word vomit wash over him, every word leaving him more confused by the minute.

Because yes, there's the desperation he expected, but...it was more about, convincing Alastor to remain friends?? Reassuring Alastor that nothing has to change?? That their friendship is the most important thing here??

(If anyone asks, no Alastor's heart didn't swell. Only lesser beings would have had the urge to cry, and Alastor is anything but.)

Lucifer is unknowingly reassuring Alastor of every single one of his insecurities about the situation. Because Alastor DID want to remain friends, he cared too much about the man to let it go so easily. It was rare to find people who treasure friendships above romantic relationships.

"I don't tend to forget easily, nor will I forget this one in particular.", he spoke, finally finding his voice. At Lucifer's defeated, pained expression( is their friendship really that important to him?), he continued. "But....yes. I'd like that.. To remain...friends."

He didn't often say the word out loud, being comfortable enough with each other that it need not be reassured with the label. But with Lucifer brightening up like his namesake, relief and happiness palpable, Alastor felt no qualms at declaring their friendship out loud.

So life went on as usual. True to his word, Lucifer remained basically the same. The following weeks were a bit stilted for Alastor, as he put some rather painful distance between him and the angel; limiting their interactions, their usual touches.

Anytime now, Lucifer would break and show his true colors, Alastor would think, waiting for the boot to drop. Lucifer would end up angry, and dissatisfied, and that was that.

But it never happened. Lucifer never expressed discomfort when Alastor avoided him, seeming to be understanding of the others need for space. He was just as affectionate as before, though initially a bit held back, as though gauging Alastor's comfort.

Months would pass, and the king never faltered. Their friendship remained strong, if not growing ever closer than before. Alastor found himself even growing more comfortable with the man. Affectionate touches were becoming common, hugs and head pats and cuddles being a welcome thing, with the reassurance that the shorter king would never disrespect his boundaries.

Lucifer seemed genuinely happy about it, despite being clearly told that none of Alastor's actions hinted at anything romantic. In fact, he seemed ecstatic that Alastor was getting more affectionate towards him as a friend. The embarrassment the radio demon felt at having Lucifer basically tear up (no really, he was crying so hard, full on drama sobbing) with joy in front of him was intertwined with the sheer incredulous fondness he felt for the man at that moment.

They were sitting at a couch one night, more than a year passing since that confession. Lucifer was leaning back, resting against the cushions, while Alastor had his head on the smaller one's shoulder, nuzzling at the crook of his neck, legs tucked close to his body. Both had a book in hand, two nearly empty cups of tea on the table in front of them. Every so often, Lucifer would flex his fingers that rested on Alastor's head, running a digit against the other's ear, often prompting the demon to lean into the touch. White wings enveloped the two, blanketing them against the chill of the night.

As Alastor turned the page of his own book, relaxing into the touch of his dearest friend, he wondered how he ever got so lucky in hell.

#this may have gotten away from me lmao #this was supposed to be a rlly short prompt of 'Unrequited love but overbrimming friendship' but instead i typed out this word vomit-#i don't know if im labeling things right here??? this may not look platonic tk others but ig im sort of projecting here #bc i want friendships like this soo badd. i mean this is still platonic right??? this is normal friendship behavior like come onnn #I've been teased about being ace bc of this mindset but i always just go RIGHT this is how friendship works y'all blind😭😭😭#bloopnik writing #bloopnik rambles #radioapple #appleradio #platonic radioapple #platonic relationships #aroace alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor hazbin #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin alastor #alastor #duckiedeer #unrequited feelings #BUT NOT UNREQUITED LOVE HELL YEA #one sided radiostatic #lucifer morningstar #hazbin hotel #THEY LOVE EACH OTHER SO MUCH AND ITS BEAUTIFUL #queerplatonic #i think #fic #fanfic #radiosilence

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