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softquietsteadylove · 1 year

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Maybe this has a new AU potential? :)

Photographer Gil and Model Thena. But it’s Thena who falls in love first!

Gil is the best photographer and very popular so Thenas agency got lucky and managed to book an photoshooting for 2 days!

I really enjoy your work so a big thank you! ❤️

Thena flipped her hair in the other direction as the flashes continued to bombard and surround her. She angled this way, angled that, pursed her lips, lidded her eyes slightly--everything they always asked of her.

"That's perfect, Thena," the photographer - not even clicking the shutter, just letting it roll - drawled at her. His praise was as empty as her interest in this shoot. "You're doing amazing, sweetie."

"Ahhh, I've seen you do better."

Thena's eyes sparked at the increasingly familiar voice. She had only worked with him a few times by this point, but she had to admit that he was at least better than the hack currently at the helm. "This is a closed set, you know."

"I do know," he walked forward, out of the shadows and towards the blinding lights focused on her. "I'm taking over."

Thena just barely bit back her excitement at that.

"That may be, but we're not exactly done here," the current photographer stated, pulling his camera - and the photos he'd taken thus far - into him defensively.

"Oh, I think you are," Gilgamesh shrugged his stupidly wide shoulders as he dropped off his own camera bag. "You're doing her an injustice--is what you're doing. If I saw these proofs I'd ask for my money back, man."

"Excuse m-?!"

"Come on," he rolled his eyes as he started adjusting his lens and settings. He waved vaguely at the current set up, "you're washing her out, you spent no time thinking about how to light her properly, you're not even showcasing the product well."

"She is the product!"

"She's not for sale," Gilgamesh snapped back at the other photographer. "She may be the canvas, but you're doing a terrible job as the artist, so beat it."

Thena dropped her arms to her sides, letting her hair fall as it pleased around her shoulders. She was stiff from holding herself in the same three poses for the last hour. The previous photographer left in a huff, barely packing up the equipment he'd brought with him. If he hadn't been so boring and annoying, maybe she would feel bad.

Gilgamesh tilted his head at her as he walked into the lit space to move things around. "You've had a fun morning, huh?"

Thena shrugged, watching as he picked up entire light stands - sandbags and all - and moved them back. At least she wouldn't be roasting alive anymore. "Not everyone has your charm, Gil. He's just doing what's familiar to him, which is taking pictures of stationary objects."

Gil paused in his rearranging to give her a grin, "you think I'm charming?"

Thena paused just a second in their banter. One agonising second. "I said you had charm, not that it worked on me."

"Sure thing," he chuckled, opening up the barn doors on a few of the stronger lights to spread out their spill. "And that's his own fault if he's going to lie on his portfolio. Product photography doesn't mean you're ready for model stuff, even if you do take your friends' instagram pics."

Thena was happy to watch him work, adjusting the dress - one of many she would be wearing over the span of the weekend - spilling around her. "I have no problem being a stationary object if it means I get to sit down."

Gil found it funny that she often suggested she was lazy, even though she was one of the most booked models in their line of work. He would know; he was also highly sought after. "Thena."

She looked at him, although the way he was looking at her made her want to look away again. She was a model--she was used to being looked at. It was her job to be beautiful, and to be admired for that beauty. But something about Gilgamesh was different.

"You are not an object," he said softly, and in a way that was more honest than anything her co-workers could ever even attempt. He walked over to her again, sorting out some of her tousled hair, "stationary or not."

He stepped back to his camera, but that gave her the opportunity to try not to look flustered.

He sat down and pulled his camera into his lap, although not up to his eye. Gil preferred a very natural method of capturing his photos. Whether she had meant to say it or not, he was charming, and he was good at using that to encourage his subjects into a more relaxed rhythm.

"What have you been up to?" Thena began, having learned since her first few times working with Gil that he always started off his shoots with some light and easy conversation. She had fought it tooth and nail the first time, but there was something so personable about him.

"Mm, a lot of company work," he mumbled as he clicked through his camera settings, looking up at her and down again repeatedly. "Some food shoots."

"Do you get to eat the food?"

"No, a lot of it is faked to make it actually look good."

"That seems like a rip off."

Gil laughed, and damn if it didn't make her want to laugh too. It was so infectious.

Thena smiled. "I saw the stuff you did for Vanity. It was good."

"You think so?" he grinned, snapping a picture in the middle of their conversation.

She nodded. She was still just sitting the way she naturally would, folded up slightly over herself, legs crossed and hunching her shoulders. But he hadn't corrected her posture yet.

"It was kinda boring, though," he lamented, snapping another picture.

"Oh?"

He shrugged, stretching his legs out in front of him. "They're not as fun to talk to."

"As fun as...?" Thena lifted a carefully shaped eyebrow at him.

"As you."

"Lying to my face?"

"No lie," he denied, sitting back slightly in the chair next to the unused tripod. "I think our talks are fun."

"I feel a little puppeted when you say it like that," she murmured, looking down at her neutral painted toenails stretched out in front of her.

"Not a puppet," he laughed as he snapped another picture. "Maybe like a doll?--or one of those birds that can talk?"

Thena's jaw dropped at the playful jab, although she was undeniably smiling (it was pretty funny, she could admit). "I could demand a new photographer."

"I don't think so, they're paying me top dollar for the whole weekend," Gil grinned at her as he switched tactics, attaching his camera to the tripod and setting its auto timer. "You're stuck with me."

"Stuck with a photographer who thinks of me as a parrot?" Thena gave him another unimpressed glance as she stood as well, brushing the dress off and sorting out its layered and breezy skirts. She barely noticed the camera taking pictures at its timed intervals.

"A pretty one." Thena laughed at the lazy amendment. "There it is!"

"What?" she looked at him past the lights, tucking back one side of her hair, the way she liked.

"You have a great laugh," Gil said more gently, under the room's AC and the hum of the massive lights and the snap of his lens. He leaned to look at some of the pictures he was taking passively. "You can really feel it through the lens."

Thena rolled her eyes briefly. Gil never directed her on how to pose or stand or move in these shoots, leaving her somewhat idle. "Well, that is certainly part of the job--for people to feel my laugh?"

"It's my job, actually," he corrected her liberally, enjoying the way she looked annoyed with him for just a second. "I may be taking some pictures of a dress, but the actual point of photography is to capture the feeling of a moment. The vibe, or emotion, or whatever is happening in that split second."

"Poetic," she murmured, walking around the simple stand on which she had been seated before. If Gil wasn't going to tell her what to do then she would just pace around until he did.

"My job is capture the subject at its best, right?" he continued, even moving into the space to remove the stupid wooden block. "And I think your best is when you're relaxed, maybe even having a little fun?"

She had a regretful amount of fun when she was with him. It made the rest of her work grating and tiresome in his absence. "I thought you said I wasn't an object."

"You're not an object, or the product," he said softly, finally moving to direct her or position her or something. "But you are the subject. I don't think it would matter if you weren't; no one would be able to look at anything else anyway."

Thena kept her eyes on him as he held out his hand, letting her guide herself to him. He moved her gently, as if her were leading her in a dance. He watched the lights and shadows, testing where was the best position for them--for her.

Gil scrunched his mouth just a little, "they don't need to put this much makeup on you."

Thena shrugged, "part of the job."

Gil finally found the spot where he wanted her, somewhat at an angle to the camera, but not exactly in profile either. "The next dress has a totally different vibe to it. I'll tell them to give you the 'no makeup' look."

Which of course, still required makeup, just that it look like she didn't have any.

Thena's hand slipped out of his slowly, their fingers clinging to each other. She pulled her hand back to herself slowly until she could fold her hands together again. "Here?"

He shrugged, going back to the display screen on his camera. "It's not like you have a bad side."

Her smile grew again. "The dress might."

"I don't even like this dress."

Thena's laugh bubbled out of her before she could stop it. She looked somewhat over her shoulder at him again, "what?"

"Yeah, it's-" Gil waved his fingers in the air, "I dunno--silly."

She raised both brows at him, "it's silly?"

"No regular person would wear this," he gestured towards her.

"What's wrong with it?"

"It's impractical!"

"It's a dress!"

"Would you wear it?"

Thena pursed her lips; he had her there. "Maybe not in the everyday."

"The dress looks like it's half of one dress and then they forgot to make the bottom half," Gil moved his hands to gesture accordingly, making her laugh more. "And then they went, 'oh, we forgot, just take one square of all these other dresses and add them on the bottom' and that was that."

Thena dabbed at the corners of her eyes to make sure her makeup was undisturbed. She shook her head at him, "you're terrible."

"Better than that dress."

"Is that why you're photographing the back of it?" she asked back at him again until finally he nodded her back over to him. She fluffed the breezy fabric around her as she walked. He was right, it did look like a strip of the dress was missing and had been filled in with whatever curtains they had lying around.

"It's a 3/4 at most," he brushed off, clicking through his gallery to show her the photo on which he had decided. "This is the one."

It was a beautiful photo. It showcased the dress' best features while underplaying the odd structure of it. And she looked...she looked like she had never been happier.

"Well?" he looked at her almost eagerly, "what do you think?"

Thena found herself nearly nose to nose with him before taking a long step back. She tucked her hair back again, "I'm not the client, nor the one who hired you. I don't think it matters."

Gil shrugged blithely, uncaring of her dismissal. "It's a picture of you, I want to know what you think."

Thena sighed. It was a beautiful photo. The photograph made her feel beautiful. And he was right--she could practically hear her laughter in picture. She looked down at the dress as she smoothed down the bodice, "it's a lovely photograph, Gilgamesh."

"The first of many," he promised as he set aside his camera and stretched. He had achieved in twenty minutes what Tony hadn't been able to do in an hour straight of nonstop clicking. "I'm hungry--you?"

"Starved."

"I guess that's a given," Gil said mostly to himself, although Thena still heard him and slapped him on the arm for it. "Delivery lunch?"

"Anything," she let out in a sigh, her posture sagging again. She wandered out from under the lights. Once she didn't have actual thousands upon thousands of watts aimed at her it was a little chilly in the air conditioned loft space.

Gil laid her robe over her bare shoulders gently, "you get comfortable. We'll break for lunch and try the second dress on when hair and makeup comes in for the afternoon."

Thena could have thanked him, but he was already wandering to the other end of the open space, scrolling through various delivery apps for options.

#Thenamesh AU #I loved this prompt #I thought it was super cute #And do I know anything about what modelling is like? no #but I did work a little bit with film #and the point of both of those mediums to convey something #and I think Gil got one (1) picture of Thena's laugh #and decided then and there that he had never captured anything so beautiful #and now every picture that's not her is just okay in his opinion #he does the work pays his bills #but the agency invites him to work with her after their last shoot #very successful btw #and he jumps at the chance #like books a plane ticket before they've even written him back jumps #Thenamesh Photographer AU

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cordyce · 1 year

Text

BY YOUR HANDS ALONE

neteyam sully x gn!reader

notes: this is silly & overtly fluffy & all over the place if i am completely honest rn. neteyam is a little flustered & probably ooc. sorry :’)

"there you are."

"here i am," you mirror back instantly, hardly sparing a glance up at the far too familiar voice as your fingers continue to work at chopping up some vegetables. it's a busy day—a momentous day. there is no time to waste.

"let me help," neteyam offers, already making moves to steal your knife from you as he steps to your side.

but you weave it away from his grasp, nudge him back with your shoulder and point the knife at him as you address him. "aht, don't think so," you differ, then continue your slicing. "besides, don't you have your own tasks to get to, mr. mighty warrior?"

days like this require a lot of preparation; everyone chipping in and doing their part so that it all gets done and runs smoothly. if even one person slacks off, it could cause a rift in sanctified plans. and that simply wouldn’t do. no, it would not.

"i have completed all of them, actually," he retorts, but he shrivels when you narrow your eyes up at him. "okay, almost all of them."

you scoff, let your pupils meet your sockets with a roll as you pry the truth out of him. of course, one of the most important days of the year and it is now that neteyam chooses to have an irresponsible whim. you aren’t sure what you’re gonna do with him.

"your mother will have your tail if she finds one thing out of place for tonight, you know this." it isn't necessarily a warning, but there is some tip-off in your tone. "you must get everything done."

neteyam hums, leans his hip against the raised wood that you are using as a makeshift counter. he says nothing, simply watches you. takes into account how you dice up the vegetables in front of you diligently before sliding them to the side with your knife and moving onto the next ones. his stare is driving you crazy—no one works well under pressure, after all.

it causes you to have a slight blunder; a misstep. you cut a pattern a tad too fast and send a slice of root tumbling towards the ground. neteyam's instincts are superb, quick, and he catches it before it hits the dirt. mumbling a thank you under your breath as he places it back on the tray, you find the heir before you still not making a move to speak.

you aren't sure why it unnerves you so.

"what do you have left to complete?" it's not the question you want to ask, but 'what the hell do you keep staring at?' doesn't sound quite as nice. so you settle on it.

you take a pause, a breath, to turn to him. throughout the years you have seen the eldest sully child wear many expressions. ones tainted by smiles, irritation, pride, devotion—but this one has you tipping your head in the most peculiar way.

because timidness is not something you think you've ever seen don the strong features of neteyam sully.

he carries himself with such an air of confidence; shoulders pressed back and chin held high—not arrogant, but undaunted. he does not shift gaze unless he is avoiding scoldings and he does not suck in his cheek unless he is fighting frustration. so, you wonder, what could possibly have his face contorted in such a reticent manner. if you did not know any better, you’d almost call his demeanor a rendition of shy. but that seems rather uncharacteristic of him, doesn’t it?

"ah—are you sure you don't need help with that?" he's deflecting, brushing off your inquiry like he hasn't heard it. and you can't decide whether you find that amusing or concerning.

he's making way for your knife again and you twist your arm to hold it out of his reach behind you. you eye him carefully, flit your gaze all around him to pick up on anything that you can that would explain his behavior.

"tell me." it's not an order, you aren't demanding, but neteyam nods his head like he's respondent of such.

"my father told me i needed a, uhm," he stutters, licks his lips, like he's tripping over his own tongue. and it's undeniable the way you see his ears twitch. "for the celebration tonight. i need a.."

"a what, neteyam?" you press, cock your brow up at him. you don't think you've ever seen him like this. never witnessed him so.. "you need a what?"

"a.. date."

so fidgety.

"a date?" you repeat with widening eyes.

"no, no not a—not a date really but i need someone for the—“

"the staining ceremony.” you finish for him, continue his sentence because with all his blubbering you aren’t sure he’ll ever spit it out.

he nods curtly.

the celebration tonight is for all the young warriors who have proved themselves throughout the calendar year as being strong willed and great protectors of the clan. neteyam, of course, is one of them. has been since he earned the right to be titled as such. so perhaps it should have clicked in your head that he’d be searching for a partner for the staining ceremony portion of the night.

but a part of you—if you’re being completely honest with yourself—just figured he had one already. events like this take weeks of planning; most warriors find their artisan a fortnight in advance. because it cannot just be anyone.

the partner one chooses for the staining ceremony must be someone with whom they feel a connection. some of the older warriors choose their mates. some of the youngest choose their mother or father. some settle for siblings. others, in brazen acts of outstretched hands, choose a mate unbonded; one who they harbor feelings for but have yet to seal such in the eyes of Eywa.

you cannot lie and say you had not pondered over who neteyam’s choice would be. a part of you thought he would pick kiri—they have always been so close and she has been his partner for such ceremony before. but, you are not deaf to the murmurs of your village, you are not ignorant of what has been passed from mouth to ear of all that will listen. there have been other… prospects who have been suggested to neteyam for this special commemoration.

your name has not been among them.

“well,” you continue, tear your eyes away from him and get back to the task at hand. there is no need to dwell on such things and fall behind. you have just one more batch of greens after this to prepare then you will be done and can walk away from all this. “if you’re here to ask my opinion on who your choice should be, i’m not sure i will prove to be much help.”

a shut down; a cut off. you’d like this conversation to be over as soon as possible because it’s making your fingers itch. you’re offering him a gateway to close the topic off.

but he doesn’t seem to get the memo.

“no,” he chuckles, now, and you can tell he’s shaking his head out of the corner of your eye. it’s breathy; like he’s punched it out of his chest and finally broken past the barrier of whatever flusteredness had him trapped before. “that’s not why i came to find you.”

“if it’s to convince kiri to sacrifice herself to do it for you again this year, i’m not game for that either.” you don’t understand why his laughter leaves you agitated, why this whole situation has caused an odd twisting in your gut.

“that won’t be necessary,” he disputes, “i do not need kiri to be my partner this year.”

your fingers fumble, your slicing stutters. “oh?” and you want to kick yourself for how your voice hitches. you clear your throat, bite the corner of your lip that neteyam can’t see. “convince some other poor soul to do it for you? is it zuy’nik? i know she presented you a kill from her hunt recently.”

neteyam hums. “no. i have not chosen zuy’nik.”

you grip your knife harder, focus carefully on the blade as you chop down on a bundle of leaves. your throat is dry, your heart is thundering. you feel silly.

“sënuul, then?” you question, do your best to sound as disinterested as possible even though your chest is burning to know who could be lucky enough to have been picked by the heir himself. “i hear many young warriors wish for her. they say she has delicate hands.”

your hands—in contrast—have grown tense; your chops near erratic. being this worked up over a man who is not your mate seems so futile, so nonsensical. if your mother were here to see you now she’d call you childish.

but is it so childish to want things your heart yearns for?

“while that may be true,” neteyam agrees with the sentiment, and that makes your stomach lurch, “it is not sënuul either.”

“then who is it? who could you possibly—“

a hand covering yours has you cutting yourself off. neteyam’s palm melds over your knuckles; stops your unsafe cutting and stills your wrist’s movements. before you can even bring yourself to look at him, calloused fingers are hooking around your chin. swiveling your head around, you have no choice but to meet his gaze. and it is not averting, not twinkling with tepidness like it was before. you think, for a moment, that’s because he’s passed the feeling onto you.

“i do not wish for any other partner in this clan.” and his voice does not waver, does not stumble, now. you swallow as you listen. “i came here to ask if you would do me the honors, for tonight.”

your tongue feels like cotton; the fuzz of it floating to your brain to make everything go static. this is.. not what you had expected.

you had expected to follow neytiri’s orders for preparing the food for the meals that would be shared. you had expected to dress yourself in the ceremonial clothing and jewelry you keep for these special occasions. you had expected to stand around the edges of the circle during the opening dance, serve food to the elders, and sit with a content tight smile as you watched kiri declare neteyam’s war paint for the third year in a row before the true celebration began.

you had not expected yourself to be standing face to face with neteyam, ears twitching embarrassingly sporadic, as he asks you to join him in one of the most intimate and important events of a warrior’s life.

and you suppose you can use that element of surprise as the reason why you find yourself a tad bit speechless while you nod dumbly. a wide grin cracks across his face, curves up his cheeks as he lets out another breathy laugh.

“thank you,” he murmurs, and he still hasn’t let go of your chin. “i was worried i would not get the chance to ask you in time. i was pushing it, but i tried to get all my other duties done as fast as i could.”

now that, the mention of time, finally knocks you out of your little lovesick trance.

“hey, wait,” you huff, shove at his chest lightly with your free hand. “you should have asked me sooner! i should have already had your stain pattern planned out, and—and now i have to go get all of your paints and i didn’t factor in the time for that. you’re terrible!”

“ah, i’m not terrible. i am sure you can just wing it,” he waves off, simpers like this is funny.

“wing it?” you gape at him. because he genuinely cannot be serious. “this will be your war paint pattern for the rest of the year. if it’s bad then you will be stuck with it. you want me just to wing that?!”

“why not? i have faith in you, i’ve put myself into your hands.” and it’s meant to playful, you know this, but the way he’s looking at you proves his words hold their full weight regardless. “don’t be mad at me.”

“oh, i’m mad,” you retort, brush him away as you get back to slicing because now you really do not have the time for distractions. “i cannot believe you have waited until last minute.”

“would you like me to ask someone else?” he queries, and you whip your head over to level him with a glare. “i mean, i am sure sënuul would be honored to be the partner of the future olo’eyktan.”

“you know, i liked you better when you were sputtering and nervous,” you spit back, retract your attention once again. “terrible. truly terrible.”

“ah, do not be mad at me,” he levels again, “what can i do to have you forgive me?”

“nothing. you will never be forgiven.” with no hesitation, but also no malice. your bite holds no venom, and your cheeks are still warm. such hypocrisy you spew.

“nothing?” he questions, and you don’t even have to see his face to know he is smiling. there he is again; the neteyam who holds his chin up high and taunts his brother into mindless games to prove his worth. you admire this neteyam; love this neteyam.

this neteyam grabs your face and tugs you forward before you can think of another mindless rebuttal to spout.

the kiss is light but fervent, and if you were a poetic person you might just say that his lips taste like future promises you already intend to keep. the fight drains from your body and you find no urge to bring it back. this neteyam seems to know how to quell you, how to dispel your frustration and wipe away your grievances like fogged up glass. so easy, so effortlessly.

he pulls away languidly, breath puffing against your lips. "forgive me?" he asks again, and you find yourself nodding before he even finishes the question.

he turns your head to peck your cheek then drops his hands to finally successfully steal the knife still held in yours. you tip your head, blinking through the daze to inquire what he's doing.

"i can finish that, you know."

"i know," he answers, then flashes you a crooked grin that has your stomach twisting in a way far different than before. "but don't you think you should start planning how you want to trail your hands over me?"

and, oh. part of you wants to hit him for that. but part of you wants to tug him in by the neckpiece he dons and get him to shut up by an alternative method.

as you reach forward to run your hand ever so heedlessly up his chest, a faux illusion of planning your mapping, you think you might just settle on the latter.

likes & reblogs appreciated !

#this is for my sweet matcha first and foremost <3 i hope u like it !#also i TOTALLY made up this entire celebration thing LMAO #i jus thought it was a cool idea and super cute sooo #also. i rlly hope u don’t think neteyam is too ooc bc he is a bit. flustered here #BUT SJDHDN AHHH ENJOY #neteyam x you #neteyam x na'vi!reader #neteyam x reader #neteyam sully x reader #neteyam drabble #neteyam fluff #avatar x reader #atwow x reader #atwow fluff #avatar fluff #neteyam sully fluff

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