#brain dump has been delivered
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upd4te
me: yeah im gonna revamp the theme maybe thatll make me want to go back to pokemon ::]
me now:
me now: ah.
ok, so, dont worry, im not gonna abandon this blog. i am, however, going to change it. as much as i love this community and have had a great time here, i do not control the hyperfixation, and i think instead of fighting it, im going to come up with a new solution for it.
technically, ive HAD a solution for it for a very long time- that solution being the very character i rp as on this blog now. moss is not confined to any one world, nor even to the same flow of time. that allows my brain to jump around and do whatever the got darn heck it wants to, because i can throw my little guy / self insert / persona / myself into as many worlds and situations as i want, and nobody can tell me im wrong. well, they can, but they can also suck my
anyways.
if you were following me for pokemon irl stuff, feel free to unfollow, i wont be upset. i will still do some pokemon stuff from time to time (as well as a lil in-character transition/explanation of the blog change), but tbh i doubt its gonna be for a while. i AM going to do a bunch of silly interdimensional meta multiverse bullshit, because the undertale fandom (among others, but that was my first and tbh strongest fandom, so) changed me, and i am trying to learn to embrace what makes me happy again, even if it is Cringe(tm).
i dont really have a proper story planned out per se, so its not gonna be super coherent all the time.. altho tbh i never really did, so ig thats not gonna change much :skykid_giggle: itll mostly just follow moss thru whatever they happen to be goin thru! which will usually be whatever i happen to b thinkin of, so.. ye! gonna b a bit.... odd.
so uh.. yeah. expect a theme change, prolly just back to the default tungle theme cuz im lazy rn, and expect a few posts where moss explains whats happening. or dont, and if you're unfollowing, i hope you enjoyed the ride! stay safe have fun ilu ::3
oh, one more thing. since i will no longer be confining this blog to one world (and tbh it had long since left the old chateau) i will also be changing the blog's NAME. that will be an in-character post, so dont worry too much, and im also gonna add that to my pinned, which.... also needs updating, actually. guess we're gonna be under construction for a while, huh. ....anyway.
if you do decide to stick around.... enjoy!
#[ ooc divider ]#[ ooc post ]#more to come later but i needed to post this now or i was gonna get sad and start doubting myself and wouldnt do it so#brain dump has been delivered
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classified | eddie munson x reader
summary at your wits end, you put an ad in the classifieds for a special kind of tutor. Eddie finds it and takes you up on the offer. (nsfw) [13k]
contains smut (18+ minors dni!) – p in v sex, oral (f receiving), lots of praise, virgin!reader, fem!reader, hurt/comfort. eddie's a sweetheart, fluff, first time turned something more (?).
author's notes this one's a long one! the idea made me laugh and then it took on a life of its own. I want to say this is meant to be somewhat lighthearted and is not a suggestion that anyone should be having sex if they haven't already – your body's yours, baby, do whatever you want! no one should ever make you feel rushed into anything!!! anyway Eddie is an angel and I want one. bye!
-
Eddie's not sure why he's reading the newspaper. Boredom, perhaps; he's been waiting for Wayne to get home from his shift for over an hour. He's thought about calling the plant, but the walk from the couch to the phone seems to be the perfect amount of time to convince himself that he's probably on his way home already.
It's the Hawkins Post. It gets delivered by a snot-nose boy on a bike every week, thrown far too hard at their tin front door. Wayne reads it some weeks, others it gets used to wrap his lunch. Apparently this one he'd read it, flicked through the pages half-heartedly before leaving it open on a centrefold about the local elections. Trust Wayne to get bored of small-town politics, Eddie thinks.
So he picks up where Wayne left off, slowly pulling the pages apart, skimming stories about the endemic of teen pregnancy, or columns about the rejuvenation plans for downtown Hawkins.
Finally, he reaches the only bit of the newspaper that Eddie has ever found interesting: the classifieds (and, on the back of the classifieds, the call-girl ads).
He skims them, eyes brushing past ads for cleaners, dog walkers, nannies. Finds the ones hidden at the bottom – the letters written in code, ads for attractive female friends and women seeking younger men. He's never actually interested in them, but they provide a glimpse into the underbelly of Hawkins, a small town that is, for all intents and purposes, entirely normal. But nowhere is ever truly normal, and Eddie likes to seize the opportunity to pry into the scandalous goings-on of his boring hometown.
He's reading one about swingers when the one beside it catches his eye. It's plain – whoever paid for it kept their costs to a minimum. All it says is:
WOMAN, 23, SEEKING FIRST TIME.
He stares at the bold ink, the statement in all caps that, despite being maybe the lowest cost ad in the whole paper – it's in a box about three inches tall in the very corner of the page – jumps out at him anyway. Underneath the title, it reads: young woman looking for judgement-free first time. Min. age 22, max. age 28. Must have experience. At the very bottom, in almost imperceptible print, is a phone number.
Eddie hadn't realised how close his face was to the page until he hears the familiar sound of Wayne's car pull up outside. He throws the paper down onto his lap and sighs before scrambling around to at least try to look casual, and not like all the blood has rushed to his face. In the few seconds he has between the sound of Wayne's car door closing and him coming up the stairs, Eddie tears the page out, folding it quickly and shoving it into the back pocket of his jeans as he stands.
The door opens just as he gets to his feet, and Wayne comes trudging in with his steel lunch pail and heavy boots.
"Hey, Wayne," Eddie says, breathless, trying his best to sound level. Wayne eyes him as he closes the door, before turning to dump his stuff on the table.
"C'mon, kid, you promised me a burger."
-
The piece of newspaper stays in Eddie's pocket for three more days.
Wayne had been late getting home – something came up, but Eddie wasn't listening too hard, brain on that stupid ad instead – so their weekly trip to Benny's had run until the early hours of Friday morning.
And then Friday was work and Hellfire, which Eddie still leads despite having graduated two years ago, and this time the kids kept him going for hours. By the time he got home he hadn't even thought about the page before crashing into bed.
And then Saturday is family day, as Nancy puts it. Eddie had woken up late, rolled out of bed into the freshest clothes he could find, and into his van to act as bus driver for the morning. His little gaggle of unruly teenagers crammed into the back of it one by one, laughing and teasing and shouting. Steve's home became louder and still, Eddie relished in that feeling of peace he gets once a week with all these misfits he calls friends.
By Sunday morning, the newspaper had been long forgotten in the pocket of his jeans that he'd left in a pile on his bedroom floor. He's laid on his back on his bed, head dangling off the edge, puffing mindlessly on a spliff he'd rolled for himself two days ago that had also been forgotten. The room's a little fuzzy round the edges, just the way he likes it, the sunlight creeping warm paws up his arms. It smells funny in here, he thinks, so he turns over, pushes himself off the bed, and reaches up to open his window. On his way back to his bed, he trips on something, landing with a huff as his ribs hit the corner of the mattress.
"Fuck," he hisses, reaching down to pull the culprit off the floor. It's just an old pair of jeans, so he throws them into the corner, out of the way, and resumes his position, splayed out across the bed.
From this angle, with his head hanging upside down, he spots something by the pile of denim he'd just discarded.
His brain's ticking over slowly under the haze of being stoned, but after a second he realises what it is, and clambers all too quickly off the bed and across the room.
Maybe it's that haze, coating his brain with thick fog; maybe it's the fact that, in the year since he graduated, he's had to settle for quick fucks behind the Hideout after a gig; or maybe, just maybe, it's dangerous curiosity.
Whatever it is, something motivates him to move through his room, down the narrow corridor into the kitchen. There's something hijacking his limbs, and it reaches up to the phone on the wall. With eyes on the page in his hand he spins the dial, listening to the tone as it rings, rings, rings.
The longer he stands there, the more convinced he becomes in his intoxicated miasma that this is some kind of prank; he's going to be met with a stupid kid on the other end, laughing at him for bothering to call at all.
When he finally decides that this is just that, a practical joke, the line clicks. There's a low buzz on the other end, so low he thinks maybe the line just went dead, but then a voice.
"Hello?"
He's taken aback by the sound of it, but not so much that he doesn't notice the sleep coating it. Despite his stupor, he can't help but apologise.
"Shit, sorry, did I wake you?"
"Who is this?" You're sharper now, coming to, and he kicks himself for fucking this up already.
"Oh, shit, uh, sorry. I called about… I got this number, uh, in the paper."
"Fuck," he hears you whisper. He's not sure if he was supposed to hear it. He feels bad.
"Sorry, I'll go, this was-"
"Look, I put that age range in the ad for a reason. I'm sick of gettin' calls from middle aged men, I-"
"I'm twenty-three."
You're silent on the other end for a moment, but he can hear your breath hitch.
"Well, shit," you finally say. "Y'don't sound it."
He laughs an awkward, stilted laugh, unsure what to say.
"Sorry, I've had so many guys – men, old men – callin' me up, tryin' to flirt with me down the phone, I just… The ad was a mistake, clearly."
He likes the way you talk. You've got a pretty voice.
"Uh, thanks," you say.
Shit.
"Fuck, sorry, did I say that out loud?" Moron.
You laugh, the sound fizzing down the telephone line, and it eases some of his insecurity.
"I'm sorry," he says, starting fresh. "I'll leave you be, have a good-"
"Wait," you bite, and he can hear you shuffling around. "Wait just a sec, I- fuck, where the fuck is it? I… Sorry, can you just wait for a second?"
"Sure, sure," he murmurs, trailing off when he realises you've set the phone down. He listens to the faint sounds of you rummaging around and swearing under your breath. He must look like an idiot, stood in his kitchen, smiling at his phone, waiting for a stranger he found in the paper.
He hears you coming back, footsteps getting louder, before you pick the phone back up.
"Y'still there?"
"Yeah," he laughs. You speak to him like he's an old friend and it keeps catching him off guard.
"Okay," you say. "Here's the thing. I put that stupid ad in the paper because I was sad, and my life has been a misery since then, because literally every guy who's called me has been, like, at least forty, which some people are into I guess but I'm not, and- Sorry."
You're rambling, stumbling over your words even though he can tell you're trying to be professional or something. He stays quiet and hopes you'll keep going.
After a beat, you say, "I guess, 'cause you called, you'd be up for it?"
"Uh, well," he stammers. "That's kinda why I called. Care to explain what it is you want, exactly?"
He's not sure where the sudden confidence has come from; maybe the weed's wearing off.
"Okay, yeah," you breathe. "So, uh, my plan, I guess, was that I'd… You'd take, uh, my virginity."
You almost whisper the last part, like it's some kind of slur, and Eddie can't help but laugh on the other end.
You start to sound exasperated, frustrated, so he tries to claw you back.
"Sorry, sorry, it's just so… frank."
"Well, bein' all coy about it hasn't really worked out for me so far."
Can't argue with that logic.
"Okay," he says, trying to ignore the excitement bubbling inside him. You're a stranger, he's a stranger, and this whole thing is kind of weird. Shit, he thinks. Am I a perv?
"How do you want to do this?"
"Well," you start, sounding like you've got this part planned out. "First I need to know you're not gonna murder me or something, so I'll give you an address near my house but not at my house, and we can meet there whenever… and, uh, what year were you born?"
"What?"
"Just… So I feel a bit more sure you're actually twenty-three."
"Hah, okay. 1965."
"Okay, sweet. You got a pen?"
"Shit, yeah, one sec."
His eyes dart around the room. With the phone between his ear and his shoulder, he moves as far as the cord will let him, to a drawer by the front door. At the back there's an old pencil and some scraps of junk mail.
"Got it!" he declares, too enthusiastic but it makes you giggle so he laughs too.
"Okay," you start, and you tell him an address he vaguely recognises, closer to the nicer side of town, halfway between here and where Steve's house is.
"It's a park, kind of. It's pretty public anyways, so if you were, y'know, planning to kill me or whatever, don't bother."
"I'll take that off the to-do list," he tells you through a smirk.
"Very funny," you say, your sentence half-formed like you can't find the words to finish it. "Wait, what's your name?"
"Eddie. Munson."
"Okay, Eddie Munson," you say before telling him yours and deciding that you'll meet him later that day. You tell him it's easier that way, that you can't bear to have to wait all week, sitting on the nerves that might make you change your mind.
That's exactly what Eddie does all afternoon. You'd decided on six that evening, when it's still light but late enough that you both have time to back out, and so he sits, stoned out of his mind on both weed and the phone call, feeling something he's rarely felt before.
It's like cola in his gut, bubbling and frothing every time he tries to move. Is this what people feel when they say they have butterflies? Because it doesn't really feel like that; it feels instead like the madness inside him is floating upwards, fizzing around his heart, prodding and poking at it at uneven rhythms. His mind is reeling, too; he hadn't really thought this through at all. What if, even after that call, you're still planning on playing some kind of trick on him? What if this is an elaborate scheme to publicly humiliate him? Maybe you get a kick out of that kind of thing.
There's another thing, creeping around at the back of his mind, lurking. It's that horrid hopefulness, the what if that feels so far from likely that if he lends too much time to thinking about it, he feels stupid.
What if you're great?
He shakes himself out, standing up off his bed. He'd been lying there for the past two hours, sobering up, dwelling on every detail of the call, lingering in particular on your voice and your laugh and the way you say sweet so often.
He doesn't know who you are. He didn't recognise your name when you told him, even though you're his age. He didn't recognise your voice either, but he likes it, and he wasn't lying when he (accidentally) told you it's pretty.
He looks at the clock beside his bed. The red numbers flicker as they change to 16:52.
One hour.
-
He's early.
It's ten to six, and he's early.
The sun's low but not gone yet, and the park you sent him to is actually kind of nice. He's in his van, waiting until it's a socially acceptable time to get out and wait for you. What is the socially acceptable time to get out and wait for the girl you've got an agreement like this with?
Before he can decide, he sees someone. They're in jeans and a jacket, red Chucks and hair lifting up in the breeze.
Without thinking about it too hard, he opens the door and hops out, slamming it a little too hard. The person looks over, catches his mop of hair over the top of the van, and stops walking.
"Eddie?"
He hears you call his name over the sound of his boots crunching on the ground as he rounds the front of the van. He looks over to find you, the person he saw walking over, looking at him with your hand at your brow, blocking the sun.
You're pretty – really pretty. He still doesn't recognise you, but he has decided that's surely for the best.
You don't recognise him, either, but he's hot. He's not what you expected; truthfully, you really had expected someone older, lying about their age to get in your pants, someone you'd have to turn down in this very public space, going back to your apartment alone and unsatisfied. This is not what you had in mind at all, but you're not mad about it.
As he comes towards you, you watch the way he walks, chest-first like he's exactly where he should be. His hair's long and a bit wild but it matches his style – ringer tee, messy black jeans, obnoxious denim jacket. He's got his hands in his pockets but when he lifts one out to wave at you awkwardly, you see the rings and know you're a goner.
You wave back, laughing lightly as he nears you. He's taller than you so you really have to squint to see him against the setting sun.
"Hey," he says softly. His voice is even nicer in person; he does sound older than he is, and he has an air of maturity about him, like he's too sure in himself to be 23, but there's also a boyishness somewhere underneath that endears you.
"Hi," you reply. "You're Eddie, right?"
He looks around himself, head whipping back and forth.
"No, doll," he says, looking at you with a blank face. "I'm Keith."
"Oh," you say, trying to hide the flush in your cheeks and the way your face drops, but then he laughs and reaches out to hold your shoulder.
"Sorry, that was a bad joke." He squeezes. "Yeah, I'm Eddie."
You choose to ignore the overly familiar touch and the way it sends your knees all funny, and instead you laugh, a little awkwardly, and hold out a hand.
"Nice to meet ya," you say, firm.
He looks down at your hand as he drops his own from your shoulder. His eyes move between it and your face, but he shakes it anyway.
"Well?" he asks, and you watch as he smirks, staring you down, his hand still in yours.
"What?"
"Do I look like a serial killer? Scared I'm gonna murder you?"
With those final words he pulls on your hand, bringing you closer to himself. His confidence is only making that funny feeling in your knees worse, but what you don't know is that he's bluffing; before you stands a terrified boy struck dumb by a pretty girl.
"Hm," you hum, dialling up the dramatics to ponder his appearance. You take the chance to scan your eyes up and down his body, taking in the scuffs on his shoes and the pretty silver chain around his neck. From here you can smell weed and cigarette smoke, pretty aftershave and something deeper. "I don't think so."
"Damn," he quips, finally releasing your hand to run his own through his wild mass of hair. "I was really tryin' to look scary."
"You didn't do a very good job," you tell him, laughing softly, and he looks at you with a smile.
"Oh well," he says. "Maybe next time."
Ignoring the way that makes you feel, you take his hand again. It's your turn to pull him, dragging him behind you. The move startles him and he drags his feet for a moment before catching up, refusing to let go of your hand when you try. He swings them between your bodies theatrically as you walk him across the park, through a line of tall oak trees and onto the street on the other side.
"So," he says, drawing out the word. "We goin' to your parents' or somethin'?"
"No," you reply, shaking your head slightly with your eyes on the ground. You drop his hand and stuff yours back in your pocket. "I have an apartment, up by Main Street. This's just a shortcut."
"Oh."
You don't say much more after that. The walk is short; you were right, this is a shortcut to Main Street, one even he didn’t know about. It takes you past Steve's house, and Eddie prays he doesn't happen to be looking out the window at this precise moment.
You live above the pharmacy. You scramble with the lock for a moment, so he stands behind you, bouncing on the balls of his feet and looking around; it's quiet, the usual lull of a Sunday evening, the sun lower than before. He looks at the back of your hair and the way the light catches in it, hears the low curses under your breath as you struggle with the door. And then it's open, and you're inside in the dark, and he has to bring himself back down to Earth.
Your apartment is small. Behind the door there's a narrow staircase, and at the top another door. It brings him into your living space, which is cramped but clearly well-loved. You offer him a drink and step into the kitchen when he says yes.
He lets his eyes pass over the room. The ceiling is low, reminiscent of his own home, though the walls are more solid than the trailer. They're painted a muted, pale blue, a colour he's sure you didn't choose because you've covered as much of them as you can in things: paintings, framed photographs, postcards. The furniture is more to your taste, he assumes. It's all soft, rich greens and pinks.
You bring him a beer as he sits on the couch, sinks into the cushions, toes off his boots.
"Thanks," he says as you pass him the bottle and take a swig of your own. You take your own shoes off and leave them by the door, hanging your jacket on a hook there too.
"So," you begin, padding back over to him and sitting on the opposite end of the couch. "I don't know how this works."
"Well," he says, turning to you with one arm up on the back cushions, "I can talk you through it, but I need t'know where you're at."
"What d'you mean?"
"Well, how far have you gone before? How far do you want to go today?"
"Uh-" You shuffle, squirming into the couch, clearly looking for the right words. "I've never… This is as far as I've ever got."
He breathes a gasp though he's trying to hide it, trying to stick to the agreement of judgement-free. "You've never been kissed?"
You just shake your head and the way your face creases, brows turned down, makes him ache.
"Okay."
"And I want to go all the way," you say quickly, all in one breath, finding your words. "Not too far, no extra shit, like, kinky shit, but the standard."
"O-kay," he says again, smiling this time. "So you know it's not as easy as… As in and out, right?"
"Yes," you spit. He flinches. "Sorry, it's just… It's hard not to feel a bit, like, insecure about all of this. Makes me a bit defensive, I guess."
"It's okay," he soothes, and his tone really does make you feel better. "No judgement here. I'm not new to sex, but I'm just as new to this whole… situation as you are."
"Okay," you sigh.
"Why don't we just chat for a bit? I'm not in a rush if you're not."
"Yeah," you agree. Eddie is easy, you're finding; no dancing around the point, but you feel you're being handled gently. Exactly what you want.
"So did you grow up here?"
Okay, so maybe the 'chatting' suggestion was a bit of a façade for the fact that Eddie has found himself fascinated by you, even in the short time he's known you. Sure, it's only been ten minutes if you're not counting the phone call, but there's something about you that piques his interest. And, if he's honest, he's not sure why he wouldn't recognise someone his own age in Hawkins.
"No, no," you say, leaning over to put your beer on the table. You wipe your mouth quickly with the back of your hand. "I'm from Illinois."
"Why are you here then?" He takes your que and puts his own beer down too, deciding that being intoxicated probably isn't the best idea.
"I dunno," you say, sighing again. Your shoulders go lax as you let yourself sink backwards and look up at the ceiling. "I wanted to go somewhere new, but not somewhere big. And the middle school here was hiring a tech assistant, so I applied."
"And you got the job?"
"Uh-huh. I start in September, figured I'd just move here early, try to find my feet."
"How's that going?"
"Alright, mister questions." You laugh as you say this and sit up, looking at him again with a smile. "It's going okay so far. People are friendlier here, but I haven't exactly found my people yet."
He hums, nodding, and you say, "My turn."
He looks up at you. "Do your worst."
"Did you grow up here?"
"Kind of. Somewhere near here, til I was eleven."
"Why'd you move here?"
"Hah." He goes all rigid and awkward at your question, shrugging his jacket off with his eyes on the ground. You take note of the ink you can see crawling up to his neck under the collar of his shirt. There's something else there, too; something pale and stretched, like a scar.
"It's complicated." That's the answer he settles on, keeping his cards close to his chest. "But I moved in with my uncle when I was in middle school. Been here since then."
"Is that why you're still here? Your uncle?"
"Kind of, but that's also complicated."
"Wow, okay, is everything complicated with you?"
"It doesn't have to be," he says. It throws you for a loop, the way his voice has dropped, fried and kind of… sexy?
You find him looking at you, and suddenly he feels really close. You feel this urge to climb out of yourself, away from this situation that isn't for you; it's never for you. No one has ever wanted to get this close.
"You okay?" he asks, his friendly tone back.
You're grateful he seems to be able to read you so quickly.
"Yeah, sorry."
"It's okay. If you want to, y'know, stop this at any point, just let me know, okay?"
"We haven't even-"
"Will you?" he presses.
"Yes," you promise him. He looks back at you like he's waiting, yearning for something and you don't quite know what.
"Can I ask you something?" he says.
"Mm-hmm."
"Why are you so far away right now?"
He's gone soft, leaning forward toward you, his arm still up on the back of the couch. Your eyes flicker to his fingers and the rings on them, the way they're sparkling slightly in the dipping sun coming through the window.
It fills your mouth with glue. The combination of his proximity and the question leaves you breathless.
"I just…" he continues. "You're hiding from me over there."
He's got a sticky smirk on his face, like he knows the answer and knows you don't want to tell him. He shuffles forward ever so slightly, letting you breach into his space if you want to.
You do, you really, really do – he's a kind stranger, doing a kind thing for you, even if it is a bit odd. You want nothing more than to relinquish yourself to him, and yet you can't.
There's a momentary staring contest between the two of you. The couch feels miles long and yet he's closing in. You feel suffocated.
"I'm gonna come to you," he says after a minute. "Is that okay?"
All you can do is nod at him. It's like your body's on fire, affronted at the idea of being touched by him and yet harbouring some primal urge, deep under the surface, to let him do it anyway.
He pushes his jacket onto the floor with his elbow as he moves himself down the couch toward you. Your eyes follow his arms and the way they stretch, and then the way one of them lifts. He plants his hand firmly on your knee and it burns through the denim of your jeans. You can't tear your eyes from it, staring blankly at his fingers, the way the tendons flex when he squeezes.
"We don't have to do anythin' you don't wanna do, okay?" he tells you. He's watching you, how you're watching his hand, how your hair still lights up in the sun. You're sweet, and pretty, and most of all he longs to know more.
"I'm gonna talk you through it," he continues, "kinda like a teacher, if that's what you want."
When you don't reply, he calls your name softly, and says, "Is that what you want?"
You look up at him and nod again.
"I need to hear it, sweets."
You tell him yes, that is what I want, trying desperately to keep your voice as level as possible, not letting on that it kills you every time he uses a petname like that.
His fingers dance up your thigh and back down to your knee, a repeating pattern that sends you dizzier the closer he gets to you.
"Eddie?"
His hand stills and he looks at you.
"Yeah?"
When he responds, you feel his breath on your face. He's close enough, now; you can really look at him, at the crow's feet by his eyes, the freckles across his cheek, the bend in the bridge of his nose that looks like maybe he broke it once. His eyes are really pretty, browned sugar and syrup, flitting around as he tries to read you.
"I've never been this close to anyone before."
He's watching your eyes as they move over his face, admiring the slight sense of awe in them.
"That's okay."
There's a sudden absence on your leg where his hand leaves it and it aches, like the bone is realigning. You swallow a whine and close your eyes when his hand finds your cheek.
"I'm gonna kiss you now," he whispers. "That okay?"
You nod again and he lets the pads of his fingers smooth backwards into your hair where they take root, his thumb beside your eye. You feel him pull you in and his breath on your nose and then the strange sensation of his lips.
It's new but not unwelcome. He's soft with it, light as anything and quicker even, gone before you really know it's happened. Some kind of sudden urge takes over, though, because you don't like how quick it was, so you chase him. You plant your lips back on his, firmer than he had, your nose nudging his as you get the angle right. This one's longer and it startles him; you have to pull back when he starts laughing.
"Alright, alright, slow down," he says as you sit back, deflated. "You liked that, huh?"
You nod, giddy, desperate to feel it again.
"Can I show you somethin'?" His hand is on your neck now, burning its fires once more, and you can barely concentrate on him.
"Yeah," you breathe, a sigh of relief as he comes closer again. But as you close your eyes, expecting his mouth on yours, you can't help the whine that escapes when he misses, landing beside it. You feel him chuckle, a puff of air out of his nose, before he dots more kisses along your jaw. It feels nice, gentle and slow, like he's scared to break you if he goes too fast or comes on too strong.
The whine, lingering in your throat, moulds into something like a sigh – or even a moan – when he makes it onto the column of your throat. You swear you feel his teeth graze the skin there, lips following them over your pulse. His kisses turn hotter, heavier, and you can't help the way you keen into him. Without thinking about it, you paw at his shoulders and let your back arch as you breathe thick pants into the air of your living room.
When he pulls back again, you whine his name, gripping tighter where you've pulled his shirt into your fists. He laughs at you, head tipped back, as he smooths his hands up and down your arms; the gentle touch makes you relax and your hands unfurl.
"Good, huh?" His words are viscous, thick with want, but he daren't go too fast.
"Mm-hmm," you agree, nodding, breathing quick. Now that he's stopped, you have time to consider that, actually, you might be a bit overwhelmed; without thinking about it you sit back, returning to your comfortable distance by the arm of the couch, watching as his face falls.
"Sure you're okay?" he asks.
"Yeah, yeah, I just-"
"Yeah, take a second."
"Mm-hmm, just need a minute."
You watch him stiffen, awkward in the wake of the moment, and take the chance to admire him a bit more until you sense his eyes are back on you, and suddenly you feel very small.
"You alright?"
You nod, looking back at him, finding his face all soft and concerned, turned down so it makes you twinge.
"You're being so nice to me," you say. It comes out more as a breath, a string of words tied together with insecurity, all in the same exhale. You're not even sure you said it at all, but his face twists into something like shock.
"What do you mean?"
You sigh. "I dunno, I… You're just being very… kind. Are you always like this?"
He seems taken aback by the question. His hands are in his lap where his left fingers toy with the rings on his right. He looks away from you to stare instead at the beer on the table and the drop of condensation running a race down the neck of the bottle.
"You've really never done this before, huh?" he asks you, and now it's your turn to be taken aback.
"I'm not lying, if that's what you're getting at," you say with perhaps a bit too much venom.
"No," he responds, stern. "I'm just… Finding it hard to believe. I'm sure it's true," he says quickly when you open your mouth to fire something quick at him again, "like, I know you're not lying, but it's so surprising."
"How so?"
He sighs this time. He twists in his seat to face you, bringing one leg up under himself, the other dangling off the edge of your couch.
"I'm gonna be honest with you right now, if that's okay."
"Okay."
"'Cause I feel like that's the best way to do this whole… thing, right? Nothin' in it for you, really, if we're not honest, or whatever…"
For the first time since you met him in the park, he's showing his nerves. It gets him all wound up, stumbling through sentences like the words are quicker than he can keep up with. It's endearing, really; nicer in some ways than confidence.
"When I saw that ad it obviously caught my eye, I mean, I called, but I just didn't know what to expect, obviously, and you're… Well, you're… normal? So far, anyway." He huffs the last three words out in a laugh, but you don't return it.
"What does that mean?"
"I just think I expected someone who puts an ad like that in the paper to be weirder, or something."
Your gut twists. Red flares of anger lick up your insides, popping and wheezing in your throat.
"What the fuck, dude?"
You stand, backing away, feeling that familiar creeping isolation; distance, walls up, get away. His face has dropped to something wider, fear in his big stupid brown eyes and mouth agape.
"I didn't-"
"I'm not weird for being a virgin. And just because you think I'm 'normal' doesn't mean this-" you gesture between the two of you with both hands, "-should be surprising."
"No, shit, sorry," he pants, desperation oozing, "fuck."
"I think you should go," you finally say. Your arms are across your middle, hands gripping your forearms. You don't dare look at him, even when he says nothing.
You flinch when you feel him come nearer. He steps over the threadbare rug on your floor and over to the corner where you've parked yourself.
He calls your name and you despise the way you soften at the sound of it.
"I'm gonna touch you, 's'that okay?"
You scoff, turning away from him.
"Stop fucking patronising me, Eddie."
"I'm not patronising you. You wanted me to talk you through it."
"Yeah, that. Not this."
"This is part of that."
"No, it's not."
"Yes, it is."
"Well this isn't getting me very turned on," you spit, turning back to look at him, your arms still crossed over your chest and the rising fire of anger flares when you find that cocky smirk on his face.
"Will you come sit down with me? Please?"
His hands are hovering awkwardly between the two of you, forbidden to come any closer but refusing to give up completely. You offer him an olive branch, dropping your own arms and taking his hand in yours.
He walks you back to the couch and sits beside you, turning your hand over in his on his lap. You both watch it, the way his thumb grazes your palm, tracing the lines up and over.
"Sex isn't just sex, you know," he says frankly. "Even when it's like this."
"I know," you whisper, eyes transfixed.
"It's about all the emotional shit too, and I'm gettin' the feeling there's a lot of that to get through."
"Mm-hmm." It irks you, the way he seems to know you without really knowing you. "You sound very wise."
He laughs at that, and you find yourself grateful for the reprieve, for the way the tension seems to lift just a little.
"I'm just being honest," he admits through a laugh. And then he turns to look at you, dipping his head to meet your gaze because you won't look up. His gaze on you is oppressive, unfamiliar, but you don't dislike it.
"You're really pretty, you know."
You just look at him.
"Hm?" he tries, dipping even lower to catch your eye properly. "It's true."
"A boy's never called me pretty before," you admit, words too quick for you to call them back. This is dire, this hole you're digging; after all this time, being honest is still so difficult, though it seems to come so easily to him.
"That's a crime" he says. And then he does that thing, the one you've read about in books, daydreamed about, thought about late into the night. He brings his hand to your face and holds your chin between his thumb and forefinger, a light pressure but enough to move you to look up at him, sat upright, with your mouth dropped open in shock.
It's just as electric as you'd imagined; more so, even. Two points of contact. Who'd have thought it?
"I'm sorry I said something stupid," he tells you. "It was dumb."
You giggle as his fingers shift across your skin. Soon enough he's holding you in his hand again and you feel yourself leaning into it, again.
"Thank you for apologising," you say. "I think I can forgive it for now."
"Good," he says. And then, more coy, the act dropped for a moment, "Can I kiss you again?"
"Yes, but…"
Just like before, the words stall in your throat.
"You can tell me what you want, you know. It's why I'm here." Christ, his voice is like honey when he's this close to your face.
You pull a long breath in through your nose and close your eyes.
"I have this… fantasy," you begin, and you hear (and feel) him chuckle.
"Go on."
"I guess it's not really a fantasy, just something I've always wanted to try…"
"That's the definition of a fantasy."
"Hey," you scold, opening your eyes and swatting him on the arm softly. "You wanna hear it or not?"
"Sorry, sorry," he says, laughing again. "Continue."
"Can I sit on your lap?"
"Is that it?" he asks, laugh lingering, threatening to fire up the heat in your cheeks.
"Yes," you say pointedly. "I wanna try it."
"Go for it, baby."
He doesn't miss the way you gasp at the nickname; in fact, he smiles, grins almost. He moves his hands down, leaving your face for now so he can hold your waist as you move onto your knees and lift one over him.
It's funny, you think, how hard all of this feels; really, this is a very normal thing for two 23-year-olds to be doing, and yet something within you makes it feel mechanical, intentional. Perhaps you just need practise.
"Okay," he says as you settle, your hips halfway down his thighs. "You gonna get any closer, or am I gonna have to lean over an' break my back?"
"Am I okay to get closer?" you ask, not taking much notice of how your fingers are dancing around his chest, toying lightly with the chain around his neck. Maybe it does come naturally after all.
"'Course you are, here-"
His big hands pull you in by the waist so that you're seated on him, hips to hips. Your faces are closer now, too, so you can admire those lovely crows feet again and the bend of his nose.
"Gonna kiss me, Munson?"
"O-kay," he says, smirking again. "I like the attitude."
"Oh, for fu-"
He shuts you up with a kiss, takes your breath away like they all say in the magazines; this kiss brings the fire up to the hilt, pulls on the smoke and the kindling and sets everything ablaze. His lips move against yours like molten gold, hot and rich and bright, quick but tender all the same. You feel the heat of his stuttering breaths on your cheek and lean inwards, arching your back slightly, until you feel him moan.
It's a sensation you could get used to, for sure. It's fizzy vibrations on your lips, makes them tingle, all electric. And then, before you can really know it's happening, you feel his tongue on yours.
You're not even sure when you opened your mouth for him. But it's there, the new feeling. It feels wetter, less familiar, but it pulls an involuntary moan out of you and you arch your back even more without thinking.
You get into it, into the rhythm, and let your mind wander to the friction between your hips and the pressure of his fingers under your ribs. They're skirting the hem of your top, his ring finger dipping beneath it onto the skin of your waist. And then you think about it too much, take notice of it too acutely, and you're pulling back and panting, looking down at where his hands are.
"All good?" he asks in a voice that's new to you; it's lazy, his words fuzzy, like he's just woken up. You look up at him and his eyes are hooded, lids low, and he's wearing a dopey half-smile.
"Yeah, just… Feeling lots of things," you say; it's all you can think of to explain this.
"That's kinda the point," he reminds you, and then he's doing that thing he showed you earlier, kissing slowly across your jaw and down onto your neck. It feels just as nice the second time; nicer, even, because you're letting him do it and you're letting yourself enjoy it.
His fingers venture upwards, more of them sliding under your top, until he pulls back and says the fateful words you knew would come soon: "Can I take this off?"
His lips are still on your throat, so he doesn't see the way you wince. When you don't reply he comes back up to look at you. You turn away.
"Hey," he coos, one hand leaving its treacherous territory to hold your head again. "What's up?"
You huff. "No one's ever seen me… naked before."
He smiles, which vexes you. "I'm here 'cause I wanna, baby."
The fucking nicknames.
"I know, I just… Can you just-"
You hold his hand in yours and move it away from your skin, hold it in both of yours to keep it away from you. He breathes an apology but you continue.
"This whole thing, me never doing this before or whatever, I think it's probably got a lot to do with me not really liking this-" you look down at yourself as you speak, "-very much."
You see him take this in, how it melts his features and widens his eyes.
"Okay," he finally says. "We can take this slow, yeah? You wearing a bra?"
"Yes, Eddie, I'm wearing a bra."
"So let's start there. Top off first, and you can see how you feel."
"Okay."
You let go of his hand and he takes your shirt in both. You close your eyes as you feel him lift the fabric, bunch it around your breasts, your que to lift your arms. You do it for him and he pulls up, tugs it messily over your head and throws it somewhere across the room.
"Shit," he hisses.
"What?" you say in a panic, worried something somewhere has gone horribly wrong.
"Look at you," he croons. "So pretty."
The insecurity evaporates, coming off you like a heavy mist, as he dips his head to kiss your collar bones and across the swell of flesh beneath. He takes his time, sometimes pulling the skin between his teeth but never for long enough to leave a mark. At some point he nudges you back and reaches over his head to pull his own shirt off; before he commits, he looks at you. You nod.
This is the most flesh-on-flesh you've ever felt before. It's nice; you're both warm, and he hasn't once mentioned the eighteen thousand different flaws you know are on your upper body.
His is covered in ink – pretty, often in swirling patterns and on his arm there are bats. But between them, there's confirmation of your earlier suspicions: he's got scars everywhere.
You trace them with gentle fingers.
"Don't ask," he says, laughing awkwardly.
"Okay."
You lean back in to kiss him. You’re a lot less confident than he is at initiating, but soon enough you get the hang of it, and he lets you. He doesn't take the reins; instead, he gives himself to you, lets you find your feet by yourself.
You attempt to copy him, kissing his jaw and then his neck, and you enjoy the way he sighs and relaxes under your lips.
As you move further down, teeth grazing his collarbone, he says, "you wanna move? Couch isn't exactly ideal."
You finish your work with a peck to the bump of his shoulder and say, "Sure."
There's some awkward shuffling, and standing in your bra and jeans is somehow more vulnerable than sitting on him, but nevertheless you take his hand and lead him through the door to your bedroom.
He doesn't have as much time to take this room in as the last one, because he wants you on the bed more than he cares to admit. When you flick on the bedside lamp, finally acknowledging how dark it's become now the sun's started going down, all he really notices is how warm the room is.
"Here," he says, manoeuvring you as he pleases. "Lay back, yeah?"
You do as he says, sitting facing him and pushing yourself back so you can lay down with your knees up.
And then it happens: one of the many cataclysmic revelations of the evening.
"Good girl."
Again, you gasp, looking up at the ceiling.
"Good?" he asks.
"Really good," you tell him. You haven't really noticed that your hands have laid themselves across your chest, but he can't stop staring.
"That's it, see? Love when you tell me what you like."
One of his hands joins one of yours where it's fidgeting with your bra, and the other smooths down one of your legs, urging you to straighten them. You do, and again he says those fateful words: "Good girl. Gonna take these off, yeah?"
"Wait," you snap, sitting up and letting his hand fall so you can lean back with your weight on yours. "Can we do it together?"
"'Course."
"And can I… Can I undo yours?"
"Shit, sure you can."
You sit up and he takes your hands in his bigger ones, moulding them so you're tracing your fingers down the plain of his chest and stomach. You follow the dips and creases, the taught skin of his scars, and finally reach his belt.
He's mumbling nonsense at you, too caught up in everything to keep up the teacher façade, pinching your fingers between his so you can pull the leather through the buckle and get to his zipper.
When you unzip and brush something hard, he drops his hands and tips his head back in a sigh. It's an unfamiliar feeling under your tentative hands but it's not unknown.
"Wow," you breathe, not really meaning to say it out loud.
"Shit, gotta get these off-" He pulls back from your wanting grasp to shuffle out of his jeans, leaving his boxers in place for now. One step at a time.
"Your turn," he declares, smiling, jeans and socks gone. He reaches over to you again to return the favour, undoing buttons and the zip and his wide hand on your hip urges you to lift off the bed so he can pull the denim down your legs.
There's no turning back now; you can never again wonder what will happen the first time someone sees you (nearly) naked.
You've thought about this before, turned an infinity of possibilities over in your mind, but this was never one of them. Not one of them included a pretty boy, standing before you, just as exposed as you are, pawing at flesh and telling you you're beautiful.
His lips ghost over you, beginning at your shoulder and creeping lower. When he reaches the middle of your chest he looks up at you, the angle a little awkward. You nod.
"What're you doing?" you ask him, moving backwards again as he crowds you.
"I'm gonna take this off," he says, tugging lightly at the band of your bra, bringing himself level with you so he's breathing the words into your ear. "And then I'm gonna eat you out."
He may as well be a fire-breathing dragon. His words claw at your scalp like flames and fill your lungs with heat, pulling a sigh from within. You lean back, lying flat on the sheets, and let him have his way with you.
But he doesn't move, first admiring the way you respond and then waiting, lingering above you, too far away.
"What?" you hiccup, looking at him, confused.
"Need you to tell me this is what you want," he tells you.
"This is what I want," you repeat back to him. And then, taking the plunge, you add, "I want you to eat me out, Eddie."
You relish in his response, the way you can almost see him shiver, bare shoulders twitching and chest deflating with a shuddery exhale.
"Christ, yes, okay."
His fingers inch around your back so you arch it, letting him toy with the clasp of your bra. He gets it undone quicker than you expected, and you can't bring yourself to focus on where it goes once it's off because he's got his mouth back on your skin and now he's biting marks in places that would make your past self blush.
You feel his teeth on the swell of your boobs, first the left and then the right, and the rough pads of his fingers over your nipples.
"Shit," you hiss, and then, "no, shit, don't stop," when he halts for a second.
"Feel good?" he asks, muffled with his teeth grazing the stretch of skin across your ribs.
"Yes, yeah."
Gripping the sheets, you arch again, keening into him, chasing the buzz of his lips and the goosebumps they leave.
His fingers leave them, too, especially when they dance over your sides, that bit that makes you feel hollow if you drift over it the right way.
"Can I take these off?" he asks, lifting his head to look up at you from where he's sunk to his knees. You're staring at the ceiling, too preoccupied to meet his eye, and the sight makes him huff a laugh.
"Yes," you respond too quickly.
As you feel his fingers curl around the elastic, he says, "Okay, you're gonna have to give me a hand, alright? Tell me if it feels okay or if you want me to move. Or if you want me to stop, obviously."
"Yes, yeah, fuck, please Eddie-"
"Alright, alright," he laughs, pulling the material down over your knees and feet. At this rate, your bedroom floor must look like an explosion at the laundromat; dirty laundry everywhere, clothes all over the floor.
You're not sure why you're thinking about the logistics of tidying right now, though it doesn't last long, because the cool air on your core is a shock that jolts every limb.
Although he's wedged between them, you seem to have an instinctual reaction to the sensation of being exposed, your legs trying to close around him. His firm hands pull them apart, his fingers grasping the fat of your thighs, and then his lips.
They're on the softness between your legs first of all, nipping and pulling the skin between his teeth as he moves upwards. And then you feel them, the strange, wet contact. There's a feeling, something you think must be his tongue, licking upwards, before it makes contact with your clit.
The pressure is a thunderbolt to the centre, a shock that sends you arching off the bed with a gasp. Your grasp on the sheets tightens for a moment until you feel the roughness of his hair instead; without thinking, you've moved both hands to claw and pet at the crown of his head, earning a muffled moan when you tug ever so lightly.
He calls your name, pulling back, his words heard through cotton wool ears. "You're sure you haven't done this before?"
"Fuck, yes, Eddie I'm sure," you pant in response, desperate for the sensation of his mouth on you again. He obliges your unspoken craving, licking upwards again before settling comfortably at your clit. His firm hands dig deeper into the flesh of your thighs until one of them doesn’t, and before you can think too hard about it, you feel it just beneath his mouth.
The new feeling of his rough fingers on your cunt sends your eyes rolling back; you can't help but squirm and it's driving him wild, the way you're listening to him, the way you can't help but move, the way you're tugging at him without realising.
The gnawing tightness in your core nosedives when he slips, warm breaths replacing his mouth and fingers. You whine like a petulant child, making a noise you didn't know you could.
"I'm gonna use my fingers," he tells you, the distance between him and your cunt not enough to save you from the maddening huffs of breath as he talks. "Have you ever had anything inside before?"
It's funny, how nervous he sounds despite the fact he's knelt the way he is between your knees. His mouth was just all over you, and yet he's still a boy, turned stuttering by sex talk.
"No," you pant, "no, never."
"Okay, it might hurt, alright? You just gotta tell me to stop and I will."
"Okay," you agree.
He settles back into position, his weight rested on his elbows and his face and hand inching closer. You feel it, the stiffness of a finger, but the feeling is unusual and a little uncomfortable.
"You gotta relax," he tells you. "You overthinkin' it?"
"No," you bite defensively.
"It's okay."
You huff and lie back, dropping your shoulders.
"Do you ever…"
Another sigh.
"Do you ever touch yourself?"
There's a momentary flush of embarrassment, a conditioned response to being asked about this kind of thing, but you're here, in this position, naked, so you may as well be honest.
"Yes."
"Okay, what do you think about? When you do?"
"I, uh…"
"It's okay," he says quickly, "don't tell me. Just- just think about it now, right? Somethin' that turns you on."
Something that turns you on? What's turning you on right now is the handsome guy between your legs. His pretty inked skin, the stretch across his shoulders and the ripples in his back. His wide, firm hands, those obnoxious rings, the way he keeps telling you you're a good girl.
It swims in your mind, the vision of him cooing sweet praises, the fizzling memory of those words in his voice.
"That's it, you got it," you hear him tut, as though he can see inside your mind, read your thoughts. It pulls apart the tension in your core and across your shoulders, and then it's back, that feeling, the warmth and the fire, and you sink deeper into the pool of euphoria.
With one finger already half-way inside, he adds a second, his eyes trained on your face in case it's too much. But it's not; of course it's not. He knows he's good, but he doesn't think he's made a girl this happy in his whole life.
You feel it soon enough: there's a fizzing current that licks up from your cunt and into your gut where it lights your nervous system on fire. It runs laps around your body, pinpricks in your fingertips and behind your ears. You grasp at the sheets again, pulling, pulling, pulling, reaching for whatever you can to keep your body from floating away, because it really feels like that's about to happen; either that or you're going to implode, pulling the room and everything else with you like a black hole, hungry for more.
You barely notice the pants, your whiny moans and the repeated prayers of Eddie, Eddie, Eddie, before you're coming apart. He's still going, riding you through it, basking in the sound of his name as it crawls from your mouth. So far he's kept his composure, ignored the searing pain under his boxers, but he doesn't think he'll hold out much longer.
"That's it," he coos, slowing down, rubbing soothing circles into your hip. You're panting, your breath hot and skin even hotter, and you can barely hear him when he speaks. The words carry, though, somehow; his praises of you did so good, and you're driving me wild, and, worst of all with the way it slaps you silly when it comes, I need to be inside you.
You sit up at that, holding yourself up on wobbling elbows to look at him. He's still knelt between your knees, hands resting on them, looking back at you with eyes turned dark and glistening skin. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and it takes you a minute to understand that he's waiting for your answer.
"Right," you breathe. "Yeah, okay." You scramble to sit up and twist yourself so you're lying the right way but he laughs and it makes you go cold.
"Chill out, take a minute, yeah?"
His hand hasn't left you; it's on your ankle now, rubbing those same circles over the bone.
All you can say is, "That was insane."
He laughs again, a softer noise this time, and says, "It was, huh?"
"Yeah." You flop back, head in the pillows and eyes on the ceiling above you, your own fingers tracing up and down your stomach.
He watches you from the floor. You're all flushed, glowing something rosy and sprinkled with dewy sweat. And then he watches your fingers, their absentminded journey up from your belly to the dip between your boobs, and back down. You repeat it over and over, and though it's an innocent, repetitive stroke, it's not helping the pressure between his legs.
"I'm gonna take these off," he tells you, giving your ankle a comforting squeeze and tugging his waistband with his free hand. "That okay?"
It dawns on you, as you look at him, that not only are you lying naked in front of a stranger, but that you are about to see that stranger's dick. A stranger who responded to your stupid ad in the paper, who's agreed to this for some stupid reason, and who is stupid handsome and stupid nice.
"Uh, yeah, okay."
He says your name again and it sounds so pretty when he does, and then he says, "We can stop if you want, you know. You don't have to do anythin' you don't want to."
"No, I want to," you say. "I just… This is a lot."
"Yeah," he says with a smile, that one that drips with charm and tugs at your gut. "But you're all good. Done so well so far."
Your body keens at the praise, your back lifting off the bed and it's then that you notice the feeling of want biting ugly marks into the pit of your stomach. You look at him, and he looks back at you, and all you can feel is a gnawing emptiness, a need to be full.
"Let's do this," you declare, sitting back up on your elbows and watching him with needy eyes. He sees it, the darkness that has settled in your irises, the itchy fidgeting of your hands on your sheets.
"Yes, ma'am."
Slowly, he stands and tugs his underwear down his legs and onto the floor. It all feels very real, now that he's stood before you like this.
He laughs at your wide eyes, trained on the straining erection he just let loose. You've never seen a dick in person before, and to be truthful you're not sure you've ever really seen one in a photograph or a video – the adult section at the rental store isn't exactly somewhere you often find yourself – so you have nothing to compare this to, but objectively it looks quite big.
"Will it fit?" you say before you can stop yourself. It comes out a squeak and makes him laugh yet again.
"Yes," he tells you, "it'll fit. But thanks for the ego boost."
He's on his knees on the bed beside you now, moving towards you until he can use his hands to move your legs apart. He settles himself between them and sits back on his heels, leaving one hand on your left leg and using the other to take one of yours. He intertwines your fingers, squeezes, and pulls you to sit up.
"Here," he says, bringing your hand to sit flat on his ribs. He's controlling his voice as best he can, hoping it doesn't sound as desperate as he feels right now. He can't help but stare at you, at how you're looking at him.
"I'm gonna show you how to touch me, okay?"
"Yeah," you breathe. His hand moves yours down until it reaches patchy hair and then he curls your hand around his dick, his own hand still holding yours.
It's a new feeling, sure, but you're mostly enjoying the short hisses of breath he's letting out. When you move upwards without his help he almost moans, and you decide you'd like to do whatever it takes to make him do it again, and louder.
"Shit, okay, wait. Here-" He brings your hand away and lays it flat, palm up. "Spit."
You look up at him and find his wide brown eyes looking down at you, waiting.
So you spit into your palm, and he brings it back to himself, and moving is easier now.
"Fuck, okay… Yeah, just like that, that's it, shit-"
He drops his hand from yours and leaves you to find your own way, so you copy his pattern of up and down, slowly, twisting your hand as you go.
"Here, move your thumb over the- Fuck-"
You do as he says, perhaps too eager to please, and watch in awe as the muscles in his abdomen tense and he leans forward, resting his weight on one hand planted right beside your hip.
"Okay, okay, that's enough," he says, taking your wrist and pulling you away, ignoring the way you whine.
When he says, "We can worry about me another time," you try to ignore the brief fluttering it elicits deep within your chest somewhere. Dwelling on things said in the heat of this moment isn't fair, you decide; he surely doesn't mean it.
With warm, now familiar hands, he helps you lay back down.
"You got condoms?"
"Oh." You don't, and the truth you're about to tell him is mortifying. "No. They all expired a few months ago."
"That's fine," is all he says, and the fluttery feeling returns when he doesn't ask any follow up questions. No judgement, as promised. "Just wait here."
His hand leaves you at the last possible moment. As he moves off the bed it runs smooth down your leg and over your foot, like he's scared that if he lets go you'll disappear. You watch him hop awkwardly across the room and into your living room, the sight a refreshing injection of humour, helping you relax into the mattress again. He comes back with his jacket in one hand, which he drops on the floor after rummaging in the inside pocket and pulling out a red foil square.
He pulls it open with fingers that you realise are shaking slightly, and you wonder if he's really nervous, and if so, if he's as nervous as you are.
It takes a few seconds but soon enough he's rolled it on, breath stuttering and dry, and then he climbs back to you and his hands return to your body almost as quickly as they left.
He's hovering over you now, his long hair tickling the sides of your face and the tops of your shoulders, all the places the sun hits on hot days. You're too caught up in watching his every move, too keen to really realise what you're saying before you ask: "Will you kiss me again?"
He smiles and dips down wordlessly, letting his lips slip against yours. It brings back the fluttering and the fizzy feeling, the craving for him. As your tongues move as one, you feel his hand by your thigh, and when he pulls back he says, "You ready?"
You nod, and then, remembering what he said earlier, cement it in words: "I'm ready."
"Alright, I'm gonna go slow, okay? It's gonna stretch more than earlier, but you just keep me clued in, yeah?"
"Yeah."
There's a new sensation at your core, of wetness and something rigid. He's moving against your folds, finding no purchase in the remnants of earlier on, but then he nudges your clit and you jolt upwards and that's when he finds what he was searching for.
He nudges in quickly at first, enough to make you whine a pained sound. He matches it with a low grumble, a vibration right by your ear.
"You okay?" he's quick to ask, head rising to look at you.
"Yeah, yeah, just- slow, please."
"I've got you."
He doesn't move for a beat, eyes trained on the scrunch of your nose. He kisses it and feels you relax, so he keeps kissing, quick flashes over your forehead, your temple, your cheek. Each one brings new relief and as your back hits the bed again, he eases himself in a little more.
The stretch is definitely different; more. There's a burn, but it doesn't completely hide the wave of pleasure you get in the fullness.
"Gonna go a bit more," he tells you, and he does just that, going half an inch further, still watching for any sign of discomfort.
When you bring your knees up by his hips, he knows you're past the worst of it. He chants praise, telling you that you're doing so well, taking me so well as he keeps going, all the way until he's seated inside you, up to the hilt. You breathe in a gasp, filling your lungs, realising you'd been holding your breath for too long. And as you open your eyes, you find him staring down at you with concern and something else.
"You good?" he whispers with his face so close you feel the words as they settle on your cheek.
"Yeah."
"Good girl."
He punctuates this with a kiss, and then another, over the hill of your jaw and onto your throat. Your hands claw up his back, pulling him in until you're sure that if he were any closer, you'd fuse into one.
"Okay," he finally says, lips against the peak of your shoulder. "I'm gonna move. I'll go slow at first."
"Okay."
The feeling of him pulling out is new and nice, but it's nothing compared to the opposite. The combination of the two, the repetitive motion he picks up, is something you want to chase forever.
As he moves, he quickens, trying his best to keep his eyes open and attentive; it's difficult, though, when you feel this good.
"Christ, you're so fuckin' tight, shit-"
"Eddie, this feels amazing, uh-"
Your stomach twists into a coil again, quicker this time, and tightens as he picks up the pace. Above you he's all guttural moans and pretty groans, his lips grazing your cheek each time he moves, and soon his thrusts become too much. You're panting his name and he's panting yours, and along with the sound of skin on skin, that's all you can hear until he speaks gravel-churned words into your ear.
"Shit, 'm so close, fuck- Gotta get you there, baby, huh? C'mon, need you to come for me."
His words are joined by sloppy fingers between your bodies. They fumble in the dark, prodding your belly before finding slippery purchase on your clit. Sparks light up your body and all you can do in response is let it arch into him with a yelp of his name.
"You close?" he asks.
"Yes, yeah, shit, yes," you splutter back. It's like a chase, and you're catching up, quickly, quickly, quickly.
All of a sudden there's a white-hot flash that burns every inch of your insides. You tense, your body yawning open for him, wide and wanting; he doesn't relent, thrusts harder than ever, chases you in return as he feels you tighten around him. You release, the coil snapping, and he brings the pace down to see you through to the end.
There's cotton wool in your ears again but you make out his praises: "That's it, that's it, atta girl… C'mon, I've got you, you did so well."
When your breathing turns regular and your eyes ease open, you feel a warm knuckle on your cheek. He's still going slow, rutting in and out of you with ease now, and when you finally look at him he asks, "Gonna keep goin', that okay?"
You nod, throat closed for the time being so you make it as certain a nod as you can muster. His thrusts become quicker again, and the more he speeds up the sloppier he becomes. You feel sensitive, too warm but also too desperate to see, hear, feel him come undone inside you. It's not long until your wish is granted; soon his groans turn to whimpers and whines, and he calls your name as he shudders to a violent halt. It's intoxicating, experiencing this from underneath him; if this is what everyone's been talking about all these years, you understand why.
The room sways and whistles as he rests his weight on you. His breath, right beside your ear, is like a hot, damp rag, pulling at your sticky skin and the thrum of rushing blood. You hear him groan and then the uncomfortable feeling of him pulling out. The bed bounces gently as he huffs and flops down beside you, and, god, you wish so badly that you could keep those flutters under control because his clammy hand finds yours between your bodies and it's nice to feel the affection he's so devoted to giving you.
Sighing, he says, "Shit."
You laugh, scrunching your face.
"Yeah," you agree, "shit."
He squeezes your hand.
"Did you like it?"
"Yeah. Really liked it."
"Okay for your first time?"
"Yeah." You turn onto your side to face him, looking up at his face. There are a few curls stuck to his pretty pink face, and you admire the bob of his throat as he swallows and the squeeze of his hand in yours.
"You're really pretty," you tell him. You're not sure if this is the post-O haze the magazines talk about, or if it's some kind of clarity, or if it's just that you have this boy in the palm of your hand and you suddenly can't bear the thought of letting him go. Instead you want to plant anchors, heavy lines that will keep him right where he is.
He turns his head to look at you and you see him flush even more.
"So are you," he whispers, with another squeeze and a kiss to your forehead.
There are a few minutes of quiet after that. The light outside is gone for good, so he's glowing a low golden in the light of your bedside lamp. He kisses you again with a fondness that surely shouldn't come with this exchange, which you had rationalised as just that: a transaction, a mutual agreement to get something done.
You see him open his mouth, as if to speak, but close it again, so you reach a tentative hand up and brush some hair from his eyes and trace your knuckle down his temple, urging him.
"My friends," he begins, hesitant, "they're having a party, next weekend. Steve, he only lives round the corner, we passed his house on the way here... You wouldn't wanna come, would you?"
"With you?" you whisper into the fizzy darkness.
"Yeah." He smiles, eyes fluttering shut under your sweeping fingers. "With me."
"Is it a date?"
"It can be, if you want. Or we can just, y'know, go as friends, or whatever."
"No one's ever asked me on a date before."
He smiles, and it's soft and curled with an affectionate pity; one that says I'm sorry, that's not fair, it's nothing to do with you.
"Well, wanna come?"
"I'd love to."
He pulls your hand up and brings it to his mouth, where he kisses your knuckles. Goosebumps raise across your thighs and arms, and you realise you're cold.
He seems to sense your discomfort because you feel him shift beside you. He pulls you up with him and helps you climb off the bed on wobbly legs.
"I should pee," you tell him, heeding the warnings of girlfriends past.
"You should," he says, a little deflated.
You don't move, though. To move would be to acknowledge the end – the end of the transaction, of the favour. It's not something you want.
"I, uh," you begin, stumbling, "Don't- Do you want-"
"I can go now, if you want-"
"No, no, it's okay, I mean, you can go if you want, that's fine, I just-"
Your eyes are darting all over the carpet, skimming discarded clothes, so you don't notice him reach up until he's touching your face, holding it in his palm.
"I'll stay, if you want me to."
"Yes, please."
He smiles at you, sticky with fondness and you can't help but smile back.
"I'm gonna shower," you tell him, leaning further into his grasp.
"I'll be here."
-
"Munson! You made it!"
In the middle of the busy room, there's a tall guy, broad and burly, like all the jocks you went to high school with. He's startlingly pretty, with golden hair and honeyed skin, a wide, bright smile plastered across his face.
He steps on unsure feet over to Eddie, who is stood partially in front of you; you're cowering behind him, willing the courage to lift you and push you into the arms of strangers. For now, holding his hand will do just fine.
"Hey, Harrington," Eddie greets, meeting him in one of those boyish embraces. You look around, taking in the faces; it's not the level of the high-school parties you used to go to, and definitely not the circus of the frat ones you've sometimes found yourself at, but it's busy enough. Where the guy – Harrington – came from, in the living room, there's a circle of people who are all smiling in your direction.
"Who's this?" The guy is looking at you over Eddie's shoulder.
Eddie tells Steve your name, and then turns to you. "This is Steve."
"Hi," you say to him, smiling, trying your best to hide the cruel nerves.
"Nice t'meet you!" he beams back. It's infectious; your smile turns firm and genuine in return. "Here, come meet the gang."
"C'mon," Eddie whispers to you with a kiss to the crown of your head. He pulls you through the entryway, into the large living room, following Steve. He drops your hand to give and return hugs, saying hello to each person. You stand and watch, unsure of what to do, until one of the girls – the first one Eddie greeted – appears by your side.
"Hey," she says, perhaps a little too close.
"Hi."
"I'm Robin." She sticks her hand out and you shake it clumsily.
Eddie's back, with his hand in yours again, on your other side. He calls her Rob and tells her your name, and then does the same for each person – Nancy, Jonathan, Will, Mike, Max, Lucas, Dustin, El – too many for you to remember tonight, but you have a feeling you'll see them again.
"Hi, guys," you return with a wave.
Everything settles after that. You take a seat next to Eddie on the couch, legs up and over his own, making conversation with Robin who you like a lot. Nancy comes over and introduces herself again and you find you like her, too.
And then Steve appears, having disappeared twenty minutes before. He's a little drunker, and he hands you and Eddie a can each. You take it gratefully and open it, taking a swig.
"So," he begins, sitting on the opposite side of the circle to yourself and Eddie. "You from Hawkins?"
"No," you tell him, and repeat the story you told Eddie.
"Sweet! So how'd you meet?"
You turn your head to look at Eddie and find him having done the same thing. His eyes are wide, just as wide as you're sure yours are.
"Uh," you begin, drawing out the sound to buy yourself time.
"I did her a favour," he says, to your surprise, turning back to look at Steve with a sickly smile. "Just somethin' she'd put in the paper."
"That's so cute," Nancy says from behind you, her words chased by Robin adding a sarcastic, "Adorable."
The conversation moves on after that, and you turn around to Eddie again. He's looking back at you, his face pink and a smile tugging at his mouth. Before you can stop yourselves you're laughing, bursting into happy noises, bent double giggling.
He gives you another kiss, on the cheek this time, and quickly you settle back into conversations. The night is long and for the first time in a long time, it isn't lonely.
-
Hello! This is SO long - it really did take on a life of its own. I considered splitting it but couldn't find somewhere to do it, so I hope you enjoy this absolute beast nonetheless. I love you!
#ha ha I am sorry!#god it's long#I hope you love it <3#eddie munson#eddie munson fluff#eddie munson smut#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson x you#Eddie munson x reader#Eddie munson angst#stranger things#stranger things 4#st4#eddie fic#eddie x fem!reader#eddie#eddie stranger things
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Hey I don’t know if you’re taking requests but if not just ignore this :) but if so could you write a poly!emt marauders fic where readers sick or something’s wrong but she doesn’t tell them or anyone until she gets semi seriously hurt
FYI your fics are literally my favorites they are so good I’ve been binging all your marauders fics <33
Thank you gorgeous!
cw: fainting, nausea, mention of skipping a meal
(also note: I used celsius because they’re british, but for my american homies 39.5 is just over 103 degrees fahrenheit)
emt!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.5k words
Your day has been hazy. You knew you were off before you even left the house, the lazy sluggishness of sleep not wearing off the way it normally does, but you couldn’t afford to pay it any mind. Your work had gotten done slower than usual, frustrating for all the effort you put into it. The thought of lunch made your stomach churn, so you had mint tea during your break instead. The joints in your fingers ached from typing. Even now, sitting on the barstool at your kitchen counter while you try and finish up an assignment that really should have been done hours ago, your back seems stiffer than usual. Your bones hurt.
“That’s far too much onion,” Sirius comments from the stool beside you, leaning across the counter to scrutinize James and Remus’ work in the kitchen.
Remus pauses in dumping a cutting board full of chopped onion into the pan on the stove. You see him look at James in your periphery, and even without paying proper attention you know something passes between them. James takes the cutting board from Remus, scraping the remainder of the onion in with a knife.
“Overruled,” he decrees.
Sirius scoffs, leaning back and crossing his arms. “Have fun kissing me tonight.”
“I’d think if we’re all eating it, we’ll be on fairly equal footing in that regard,” Remus points out.
“Yes, equally foul-smelling. So romantic.”
“Angel,” James says as he starts slicing up bell peppers, “do you plan on working on that all night?”
“Almost done,” you murmur, trying to ignore how nauseous the smell of all the food makes you. You squint into the brightness of your laptop, typing as quick as you can think. Which is to say, not impressively fast.
It’s your boyfriends’ day off, and they’ve decided to celebrate the rare occurrence of none of them being scheduled to work by going to the cinema. James and Remus are making dinner first, but the film’s in just under two hours. You know you’re sacrificing some time with them now, but it’s only so you can enjoy the main event later. Plus, if you stop working, you’re not sure you’ll be able to pick up the momentum to start again. You have a creeping sense that at the first opportunity for rest, you’ll lie down and never get up.
James says something encouraging, and then the conversation goes on without you. You lock into your laptop screen, fingers pressing down upon the keyboard like an extension of your brain, and gradually the sensation of being outside of yourself, your body moving on autopilot while your mind simply fuzzes over, envelops you. Slowly, the world just…slips.
An odd sound leaves Sirius as he lunges for you, like an alarm that went off without him telling it to. He catches you but not quite, one hand wrapping around your arm and the other fisting in the material of your shirt, stopping you from tipping over only temporarily. James runs from behind the counter to help. Accompanied by a steady stream of curses from both of his boyfriends, he eases you out of your stool and onto the floor. You’re already coming to.
“Is she okay?” Remus asks from the kitchen, and Sirius hears the sound of the stove flicking off.
“She’s hot,” James says, one hand cushioning your head from the floor while the other feels about your face and neck.
The quip comes to Sirius naturally—as usual—but he’s in no mood to deliver it. Though he trusts James’ assessment, he touches the backs of his fingers to your forehead anyway, hissing at the heat that meets them. It’s a wonder he didn’t feel it emanating from you in the barstool next to him.
“Angel,” James’ voice is a coo, gentleness coming naturally to him whereas Sirius’ panic feels hot and dangerous beneath his skin, “do you feel alright?”
You hum, though it sounds more like a grunt. “Mhm.”
Sirius almost laughs. “Come on,” he says, “be straight with us.” He works two fingers into your wrist to get your pulse, rubbing his free hand up your arm cajolingly. “You did just pass out, so we know you’re not fine.”
Remus sets a hand on Sirius’ back as he lowers himself to the ground by your legs. A support for them both.
“I…” You blink for a couple of seconds, and they wait, knowing you’re probably still out of it. “I guess I feel a little sick.”
James cracks a smile, though it’s tinged with worry. “A little?” he asks, smoothing down the baby hairs at your temple. “You’ve got a horrid fever.”
You sigh. “I figured.”
“You figured?” Sirius is aghast. He suddenly has a very clear picture of how your day has gone, and it unnerves him. “How long have you been feeling like this?”
You look wary, and Remus’ hand runs the length of Sirius’ back quickly as he stands. “Alright, let’s move you somewhere more comfortable, yeah dovey?”
You relax a bit at the affection in his tone, and Sirius feels bad about ever making you miss it. This is something he’s never been able to quell about himself. His love almost always manifests roughly. For the most part, you all know how to interpret it, but when you’re vulnerable like this and he can feel you feeling the gnashing teeth of his worry, Sirius wishes he were gentler.
James won’t let you walk yourself the short distance to the couch, lifting you in a bridal carry and setting you down with such carefulness it makes Sirius’ chest ache. Remus goes to get the thermometer. Sirius steals the spot beside your head selfishly. Thankfully, there’s no lingering timidity in your gaze as he combs his fingers through your hair, pushing it away from your ear and trailing his touch down your neck.
“You’ve been feeling unwell for a while,” he says, softer this time, “haven’t you.”
You look more guilty than anything, eyes going big and doe-like. “Yeah.”
“Why didn’t you say?” James asks, lifting your legs so he can scooch underneath. He rubs the skin above your knees fondly, a small furrow between his brows.
“I just,” you sigh as though disappointed, “wasn’t ready.”
“Wasn’t ready for what?”
“To be sick.”
The scratchy, delightful sound of Remus’ laugh comes into the room with him. “Well that’s silly,” he says, reaching over Sirius to settle the thermometer in your ear. “It doesn’t seem to be waiting on you, does it?”
“Guess not,” you mutter. Sirius strokes your jaw with his thumb.
When the thermometer goes off, both he and James lean in to see, but Remus forsakes them, bringing it up near his face where he can read it. He hums.
“What is it?” James asks.
“Thirty nine point five.”
They all frown. Sirius touches your forehead again, just to be sure. Unfortunately, it seems accurate.
“What are your symptoms, sweetheart?” Remus asks you, settling on the floor beside Sirius with his knees bent in front of him. “Does anything hurt?”
“I feel sick—like nauseous, and sort of achey.” A little notch appears between your brows, and Sirius had the impression that you’re finally letting yourself acknowledge your own misery. His gut twists with sympathy. “My stomach is starting to hurt, but I’m not sure if that’s just because I skipped lunch.”
None of your boyfriends even have to say anything. You look abashed enough by their expressions.
“I wasn’t feeling well,” you say in a small voice.
James breaks easily, taking your hand and bringing it to his mouth for a firm kiss. “Can’t believe you went all day feeling this poorly and didn’t say anything,” he chides lovingly. “What did you think was going to happen, hm?”
“I know, I’m sorry.” Your gaze flitters about the room, landing on Sirius’ eyes for a fraction of a second before it’s dropping shyly to the couch cushion. “It was dumb.”
“So long as you know,” Remus agrees with a brief eye-roll. “It sounds like the stomach flu, so at least it should be better in a couple of days, but there’s not much to do other than rest.”
Your face pinches unhappily. “I’m sorry for messing up your big night too,” you say, and you look like you’d curl up in misery if James weren’t currently using your legs as a blanket. Sirius’ heart gives a little throb.
“Don’t be,” James says. “We’re still with you, aren’t we? And if we get sick, too, that’s just more days off!”
It’s clearly a joke, but you look extra guilty anyways. Your features tighten in a slight wince. Sirius works a hand between your face and the couch cushion, leaning forward to kiss the space between your brows.
“Don’t worry about it, darling,” he says. “Better when we can be with you than when we’re busy helping some other poor sap, yeah?”
#emt!marauders#emt!marauders x reader#marauders au#poly!marauders#poly!marauders x reader#poly!marauders x fem!reader#poly!marauders x you#poly!marauders x y/n#poly!marauders x self insert#poly!marauders fanfiction#poly!marauders fanfic#poly!marauders fic#poly!marauders hurt/comfort#poly!marauders fluff#poly!marauders imagine#poly!marauders scenario#poly!marauders drabble#poly!marauders blurb#poly!marauders oneshot#poly!marauders one shot#james potter#james potter x reader#sirius black#sirius black x reader#remus lupin#remus lupin x reader#marauders#marauders fanfiction#marauders fandom#hp marauders
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Hiii love your blog ✨🫠 if it’s ok with u, can you write one where dom-San is jealous by yunho constant flirting with innocent y/n while y/n is completely oblivious to it, and when san gets with the reader he take his anger and jealousy too far and y/n uses safeword with with lots lots of after care
HI HELLO MY ANGEL IM SO SORRY THIS TOOK AWHILE BUT IM DELIVERING THIS TO U 💌
I’m also drunk on the thought that San would never hurt you on purpose,,, hehehe hope you like this one anon because it’s so teeth rotting fluff!
Warnings/genres: smut, fluff more than smut actually, rough sex, jealousy thanks to yuyu, use of safe word (red), dom!san, unprotected sex
There’s a lot of things to like about Choi San.
There’s the way his dimples appear when he smiles like a puppy. There’s the way his eyes turn into crescents when he’s elated. There’s the way his voice can switch between sounding like honey and then husky within an octave. There’s the way his hands roam around your body wraps around you when he gets possessive.
And then there’s the way he never felt possession so strongly before, especially when he’s staring at the way you’re giggling and hitting Yunho’s arm as he leans in and whispers something in your ear. Granted, it might have been a noisy environment, but did Yunho have to let his arms bump against your shoulders from time to time? Did he have to press his palm against your bare back when someone tried to squeeze behind you? Did he have to catch San’s gaze with the most devious expression before leaning into you once more, his lips almost touching your temple?
Fuck no of course. San takes a deep breath and swallows hard. The way you don’t even seem fazed is the cherry on top of Yunho tactlessly flirting with you.
Yunho leans into your ears again. “Your boy is here.” You perk up, turning your head to the direction where Yunho points with his head, and you see your partner with an unreadable expression on his face. You don’t pick up on it though. But your face brightens up, and San can’t help but smile back in your presence. You are about to cross over to meet him, that is, until you run right into someone, and San’s view of you is Yunho’s hands around your waist as he catches you, and you’re hugging his arm, blinking in surprise as you catch your breath.
San’s grin immediately fades.
And that’s when he realises that he doesn’t like to share.
He walks over curtly, nodding at Yunho as he has you fall right into his arms. Yunho only smirks as he gladly hands you over to your fuming lover.
You stumble to regain your balance, grabbing onto your boyfriend’s hand.
Something doesn’t feel right. You slowly glance up to meet San’s eyes and shivers climb your spine from the piercing gaze. He’s eyeing you down, like a predator wanting to corner his prey. Your throat suddenly feels too dry. San’s arms snake around your waist as he slowly leads you away.
The door slams shut, as San never lets you leave his side. He dumps you on the bed, and you blink, trying to catch your breath as your eyes soak in the way San is glaring down at you as he hastily peels his jacket off, then unbuckling his belt to remove it.
“Strip”, he demands. Your eyes glance down to his crotch purely by accident—and fuck, he’s hard. Yet at the same time, he seems so pissed. You’re racking your brains to comprehend the situation while you’re unzipping your dress. San has his gaze locked onto you, licking his lips as you’re slowly undressing before him.
Soon enough, the both of you are in your undergarments, and San’s erection is just pressing painfully against the fabric. He kneels into the bed as he crawls towards you, essentially trapping you beneath him. Before you could say anything, San has his fingers tugging against your lace panties before it’s completely removed and strewn somewhere across the bed.
“What’s gotten into you, baby?” You ask. He’s been aggressive before and it’s not anything new, but it seemed like he’s extra agitated for some reason. He’s nibbling you slightly harshly this time, and the pain dances on the surface of your skin, at times so pleasurable but this time slightly more pain than pleasant.
“You had fun acting like that around Yunho?” He hisses. You blink at him, still clueless. He sighs, and he seems almost hurt. “Guess I’ll have to remind you who your cunt belongs to.”
Before you know it, he has you pinned onto the bed. “Remember who you belong to, Angel,” he growls, his hands pressing against your throat as he jackhammers your cunt. Your vision is going hazy as San fills you up all way, but doesn’t let you adjust. Your fingers claw his shoulder the pleasure flickering in and out. Oh god, he’s fucking you so hard that you can’t even feel your legs.
“Who do you belong to, Angel?” He whispers, his voice dripping with honey despite the evident jealousy bleeding through. Your mind is too far away to answer him. His hands go from your throat to your jaw, tilting your head to face him, your eyes still glazed out. He adores that look on you so much. But he still demands an answer from you.
“Good girls answer”, San’s voice starts to echo in your ears.
“Y-yours”, you reply softly, feeling yourself squeeze against his cock.
“Can’t hear you.”
You bite your lip. The knot in your stomach is tightening, at the same time, it feels so good that it hurts.
“Yours! I’m yours, Choi San!”, you cry out, your thighs beginning to shake from how hard he’s taking you.
“That’s a good girl”, San hums, before he picks up his speed.
Your cunt spasms, and the next thing you know, your orgasm completely engulfs you, your toes curl and he’s cursing so much from how much your pussy is convulsing around him. Your words are completely stuck in your throat, only whines and whimpers leaving your lips.
But once the orgasmic high wears off, the overstimulation begins to actually hurt, and San isn’t stopping his thrusts. He still seems like he’s still seeing red—his jaw is clenched, and his grip on you is even harder.
“Red”, you manage out, despite it barely audible, but San hears it and he immediately stops. His gaze immediately softens as he pulls out of you gently and you wince a little. You see panic flash in his eyes for a spilt second.
“Fuck, was I too rough? Shit, I’m so sorry,” his voice goes down to a whisper, his hands grazing your sides as he kisses your tears away, stroking your hair gently. Your heartbeat slows down as your arms around his neck loosen slightly.
He asks again. “Are you okay?” He shifts his head to face you, trying to search for your gaze. You nod, pulling him deeper into your embrace. He draws gentle circles on your thighs, and despite the fact he knows it’s not enough for now to soothe the pain but it’s what he can do for you at the moment.
“There’s nothing going on between Yunho and I”, you finally speak, and San doesn’t reply you. But he shifts to remove his weight off your body.
“I’m sorry”, is all he says, before pressing his lips gently onto yours. “I got carried away.” He looks embarrassed now, and then upset.
His fingers interlink with yours, stroking your hand as he pulls your body closer, and he’s taking in your warmth after he pulls the sheets over both your naked bodies, snuggling up to you even more.
Your fingers play with locks of his hair, letting it tangle between your fingers.
“You dumbass”, you say after awhile. San immediately pulls back with a pout and you giggle. “You know my eyes are only for you.” He sits up quickly, which makes you confused for a spilt second. His heart is fluttering again from your words, and you see that represented by the redness of his ears, but he doesn’t shy away.
“Where are you going, babe?” You ask, watching him walking to the bathroom.
“Drawing a bath for us. I’ll massage your thighs too. Be right back! I love you!”
You feel the warmth flood your heart and cheeks.
“I love you, too.”
#ateez#ateez scenarios#ateez x reader#ateez fanfic#ateez imagines#ateez smut#smut#ateez fic#kpop smut#choi san smut#Choi san#San ateez#San x reader
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nga yawne lu oer; i love you.
summary: the rda murders a tulkun and dumps it for the metkayina to find. the village turns into a frenzy, wishing to fight for their brothers and sisters lives. lo’ak runs to warn payakan, but the creature is already marked for death. you and neteyam get split up, causing you to be captured by the avatar mercenaries. neteyam comes to your rescue, but is forced to help lo’ak save spider from the soldiers…
pairing: neteyam sully x fem!na’vi/human reader
warnings: graphic depiction of character death, weapons, blood, ptsd, non-descriptive implied smut :p, & quaritch.
note: pls leave feedback on this one. i put my heart n soul into it. i’m also not even listing the word count bc it’s embarrassing how long it is. (it’s 15k) yk it’s gonna be good so go read it rn
part one | part two | part three | part four
the deafening sound of a conch horn mixes in with the storm rolling over the village.
you, kiri, tuk, neteyam, and lo’ak all go silent. eyes worriedly dart to each other, staring in bewilderment as your brains ponder on what to do.
“we should go.” neteyam breaks the silence, spinning on his heel. he ducks down under the entrance to the marui and disappears around the bend. lo’ak takes no time to follow his brother, sprinting after him through the rain.
“come on. it’s okay.” you attempt to reassure the worried child. you grab tuk’s hand to walk outside with her and kiri, a few steps behind lo’ak and neteyam. your hand comes up to shield your eyes from the heavy rain falling from the ominous clouds.
as you get closer to the center of the village, the growing crowd of metkayina becomes more dense- this is not good.
“my spirit sister and her baby have been murdered by the sky people!” ronal’s voice shouts from somewhere in the center of the irate group of villagers.
you grasp tuk’s hand so tight, afraid she might get lost in the crowd. you can barely make out neteyams head as he pushes through the metkayina, “i’m scared.” the girl whines from behind you.
“it’s okay. just keep your head down, tuk.” you mumble, wincing as somebody’s sharp elbow collides with your ribs.
you finally break free from the crowd, instantly spotting jake and neytiri standing in front of ronal and tonowari. neteyam and lo’ak are already standing behind their parents, so you quietly sneak over to them with kiri ahead of you.
the chief and his wife are on an elevated surface as they speak to their village, “this war has come to us! we knew about this hunting of our tulkun people, but it was over the horizon. far away! now, it is here!” tonowari shouts, and hisses angrily as he delivers the news to his people.
“you gotta understand how the sky people think! they don’t care about the great balance!” jake tries to calm down tonowari, but it just makes it worse.
“we don’t answer to sky people!” a metkayina raspily screams from behind you, making you jump.
“listen! listen to him!” neteyam urges them.
“the sky people are not gonna stop! this is only the beginning! you gotta tell your tulkun to leave! you gotta tell them to go far away!” jake shouts as he talks with his hands.
“leave?!” ronal shrieks, “you live among us and you learn nothing!”
“we will fight to protect our brothers and sisters!” a metkayina man steps forward, slamming his fist roughly against his chest.
the people yip and screech in agreement, and grow more wild by the second; howling and slamming the bottom of their weapons against the ground.
“no, no! if you attack, if you fight, then they will destroy you. it would destroy everything that you love!” jake yells.
your eyes dart around nervously at everyone, heart pumping wildly against your ribs.
the metkayina cry out as they stomp and grow even more furious. “hear my words!” jake desperately pleads the people.
“stay calm! stay calm!” neteyam tries to alleviate the chaos but it doesn’t do anything, “listen to my father! he speaks the truth!”
jake steps forward holding an orange spear-like beacon up to the crowd. the people go silent as they look at what he is holding.
“you tell the tulkun that if they’re hit by one of these they’re marked for death.” he breathes heavily, “and call for me. i’ll silence it.”
“saving their lives, that’s all that matters. right?” he looks around at the village, “saving your family.”
tonowari looks down at his wife, before taking a step up next to jake, “tell the tulkun.” he orders.
“go.” ronal urges, “go!”
lo’ak is quick to blend in with the moving crowd, which neteyam takes notice to. you hand over tuk to kiri, “i’ll be right back.” you say to them, quickly sprinting in the direction neteyam took off in.
just as you’re about to run past them, you spot the boys at the end of a dock arguing, “you gotta keep your skxawng ass here.” you overhear neteyam say to lo’ak.
“he’s outcast. there’s nobody to warn him but me!” lo’ak argues.
“bro.” neteyam sighs as he slaps his hand on top of his brothers head, “why do you always have to make things so hard?”
lo’ak pushes his hand off of him with a grunt, “no. you mean why can’t i be the perfect son like you? the perfect little soldier?”
neteyam takes a step back from him, chuckling angrily before stepping even closer to his brother- as if he is holding himself back from punching him. “i’m not you!” lo’ak shouts in his face.
you need to stop this before it gets too heated.
you run forward, out of breath as if you didn’t eavesdrop on everything that was said. just as you make it to them, lo’ak shoves neteyams arm off of his shoulder, “get off me.”
“lo’ak!” tsireya calls from the water on her ilu, coming in fast with ao’nung and rotxo.
before you know it, the youngest sully boy is diving in the water to his ilu and taking off.
“come on! he’s going to payakan.” neteyam grips your arm to pull you forward, making you stumble. his arm protectively wraps around your waist before he jumps into the water.
you suck in a sharp breath before the cool water envelopes around your bodies; one of his arms reaches back to he situate your body behind him. he grasps the reins of his ilu, and takes off in the direction of lo’aks trail.
he breaches the surface, making you gasp as the rain hits the top of your head. you can see lo’ak in the distance, “come back!” you scream out to him which just makes him go even faster.
kiri and tuk are off to the side, sat on an ilu in the water. “lo’ak!” both of them call after him.
“he’s going to find payakan!” you and neteyam yell out to them in sync.
“wait up!” kiri yells as neteyam dives back under the water to follow his brother. your arms tighten around his waist, trying your hardest to not fly off from the speed.
he chases him all the way to three brothers rocks where payakan is. the creature breaches the water as lo’ak calls his name.
the animal lets out a loud pained whine as it swims up to him. the tulkun turns in the water, revealing the same orange spear from earlier lodged into his back. this time, it’s beeping.
the younger boy jumps off of his ilu and onto his back to try and pull the machine out of its skin.
“oh shit! neteyam! they’re here!” you cry out when a huge ship appears from around one of the giant rocks.
“we need to help him.” neteyam leaps off the ilu and onto the tulkuns back, leaving you behind on its saddle. you mentally punch him for leaving you behind, but you know that all he was thinking about was getting his brother.
you take control of his ilu, wrapping your hand around the leather handle on the saddle to dive under the belly of payakan. you pull up to breach the surface on the opposite side.
your legs push up to leap off of the animal, and onto the back of the giant creature- just as tsireya, rotxo and ao’nung arrive and jump onto the creatures back.
you scurry over to help them pull the machine out, your hands attempt to grip the slippery surface of the beacon. it’s really stuck in there.
“call it in! call dad!” neteyam yells an order at his brother, who looks at neteyam as if his heart just fell out of his ass, “just go! do it!”
lo’ak scurries to stand up on the top of the animal as his hand flies to his throat to talk to jake through their comms.
even with five people pulling, there’s absolutely no budge. you let out a frustrated yell when your hands slip off of the damp surface for the hundredth time.
your eyes continue to glance behind you at the ship as you try to pull it out, “it’s getting closer!” you cry out in a panic. another harsh wave crashes against the side of the tulkuns body, sending a mist of sea water in everybody’s face.
your mind goes through every possible way you could get this thing out of it, “a rope! does anyone have a rope?!” you yell out, eyes looking over the four na’vi around you.
neteyam looks over at you, his chest heaving with exertion and terror, “a rope…” he breathes out, pausing for a moment to look around.
he makes a clicking sound with his throat, summoning his ilu back over to him. he jumps into the water to search through the packs on its side, “hurry up, bro!” lo’ak screams as he comes back from talking to their father.
neteyam unravels a long rope from inside, throwing the other end to you. it’s almost as if he read your mind when he wraps it around the ilu to utilize the animals strength to help.
you quickly snatch the thrown rope out of the air and begin wrapping it around the tracking beacon with the help of ao’nung.
“go, go, go!” the chiefs son tells neteyam, your head continues to check on the proximity of the ship. now they’ve discharged smaller boats into the water that are coming your way, “we have to hurry! they’re coming!”
neteyam gets on the back of his ilu, flapping it’s fins in the water to accelerate forward, now aiding in pulling out the beacon, “pull now!” he orders.
the four of you muster up all of your strength to try to force the beacon out of its skin, “hurry! we need to hurry!” tsireya cries out.
“pull! harder!” you whine, your hands burn from the scraping of the metal against your palms.
the beacon suddenly releases from the creatures skin, pulling the rest of you into the water along with it. payakan quickly takes off, the force pushes you even deeper into the rough ocean. you use all your might to swim up to the surface.
the first thing you see beyond the waves is neteyam swimming away with the beacon in his hand.
“no! neteyam! no!” you screech out for him as your stomach threatens to release the contents of your dinner.
you begin to panic; you can’t lose him. you attempt to swim towards him, but he’s quick to dive under the water with his ilu. there’s absolutely no way you’ll be able to catch up to him.
“come!” lo’ak grips your upper arm to pull you towards his ilu that he summoned, “he’ll be okay! come on!”
you reluctantly climb onto the back of his animal, wrapping your arms around lo’aks waist as he dives after the rest of them- now going the opposite way of neteyam. you can’t help but look back, in attempt to find him in the open water.
the boy halts underneath tall stalks of seaweed, hiding himself beneath the giant leaves as the boats pass by. you glance over at kiri and tuk hiding underneath the one beside you.
the main ship releases more boats, but ones that can now dive under the water. you tap lo’ak’s arm to get his attention, pointing at the submarines. he quickly takes off, dodging in between the sea grass to try and out run them.
they’re quick to follow, their lights bright and menancing as they chase all of you through the underwater foliage.
somehow, you and lo’ak get split up from the rest of the group. the boy quickens the pace of his ilu, causing you to tighten your grip around him and tuck your head into his back. he looks back for a moment at the ship, his panic growing from the enemies close proximity.
a second ship drops in front of you, making you scream out lo’aks name in the water. the boy sharply turns to the left to dodge the metal claws of the ship that reach out to grasp you.
lo’ak signs for you to jump off with him into the thick seaweed. your eyes go wide, but he doesn’t wait for a response from you. he launches himself off his ilu, but not without grasping your hand to bring you with him.
you grab ahold of a thick stalk of grass, using them to hurl yourself forward through the water as the ilu draws the ships away. lo’ak leads you to a grass pod with an air pocket, looking up into it to see his little sister inside.
he swims upward along with you, grabbing your hand to pull you up into the air bubble with him. “tuk!” you both shout in surprise.
before you could ask where kiri is, the ships lights grow nearer as the sound of its engines gets louder. “we have to go! it’s coming.” you shriek.
all three of you suck in a deep breath before plunging back into the water to swim in the opposite direction of them.
the ships start to surround you, giving you no other way than forward to swim away and escape. they’re too fast, you’ll never be able to out swim them.
one of the ships projectiles a net at all of you, catching only you and tuk inside of it. your limbs flail as you try to find a way out, pulling and tugging at the netted string but the material is too strong.
two ikrans dive into the water, grasping the net with their talons to hoist you and tuk out of the water. lo’aks fingers latch onto the outside as the soldiers take off into the sky towards the mother ship.
“no! let us out!” you grunt as your hands try to rip at the net. you take out the knife neteyam gave you, dragging the serrated blade over the strings.
“hold on!” lo’ak yells as he unsheathes his blade from his hip to start cutting the material, “look out! move your hand! move your hand!”
“hurry, lo’ak!” tuk whimpers in fear.
you and tuk scream as you’re dropped onto the hard pavement of the ship, now surrounded by armed avatars.
lo’ak moves away from the net, standing with his back toward you and tuk in attempt to protect you. he snarls and growls at the soldiers with his knife still in his hand, ready to attack at any second.
“drop the weapon!” “put the weapon down!” they shout at him.
the boy steps forward, attempting to stab one of the men but they easily dodge his attack and shove him to the ground. two of them pin his arms beside him as he struggles under their grasp.
“no!” you screech, seething at the aggressors. you kick and wiggle as you attempt to push the heavy net off of you and tuk.
finally, you spot an opening. “come on.” you’re the first to emerge from the net, with tuk right behind you.
both of you try to protect yourselves with your blades but the lab-made na’vi are too strong.
one of them grips the back of your neck, forcing you to the ground, while another grabs tuks wrist for her to drop her knife.
“hey! hey! what are you doing? stop!” someone shouts from behind you, “stop! don’t hurt them!”
tuk yelps from beside you as she is held hostage by a soldier, trying her hardest to wriggle out of their tight grip.
your head turns on the wet pavement, looking behind you to see spider talking to lo’ak; the human boy is being held back by two men.
you snarl at the man on top of you, his knee sitting painfully on your back to hold you down. “knock it off! stay still!” his knee presses harder into your spine, making you cry out in pain.
“you’re hurting her! stop!” spider screams out at the man on top of you.
one of the avatar men on the ikrans hops off of the animal, his heavy boots stomping on the damp ground.
“get back to the bridge.” he points at spider, ordering the soldiers beside him to bring him back inside, “and keep ‘em there!”
that man’s voice, that american twang sounds familiar. it’s the man from the forest, the one who held kiri, lo’ak, and tuk hostage- the one who stole spider; it’s quaritch.
“yeah, i remember you.” he looks down at lo’ak, who hisses in reply.
“cuff ‘em to the rail. all of ‘em.” he points.
finally, the pain is alleviated from your back as you’re forced to your feet. you don’t dare to try and wiggle out of the grip, knowing the attempt would end up with you getting hurt somehow.
“get on your knees. on ‘em.” the soldier behind you kicks the back of your legs, making them give out so you would fall to the ground. you grimace as the pavement cuts open the skin on your knees, hissing at the man behind you.
your hands are brought in front of you, and handcuffed to the rail along with tuk and lo’ak.
“fuck you!” you seethe through your teeth, your slightly sharpened canines bare wildly at the men. the soldier behind you goes to back hand you, making you cower to prepare for the blow.
quaritch takes a step toward you, with a simple raise of his hand he stops the mercenary from hitting you.
“this one’s red-hot.” he chuckles alongside his soldiers as he stares down at you with a cocky sneer.
“and where are you from?” he squats down to your level, looking over you intently. his gaze makes you uncomfortable, “you’re not blue like the rest of ‘em… yet you breathe our air.” he hums curiously.
“i’m not telling you shit.” you spit out, your voice dripping with venom.
tuk grunts beside you as she tries to pull the handcuffs off the railing. your eyes slightly glance over at her, your heart aching for her.
“half human, half na’vi.” he unsheathes his combat knife, pressing the tip of it into your chin to angle your face up towards him.
the sharp tip of the knife pricks at your skin, daring to slice into it even from the most subtle movement from you.
“let her go! don’t hurt her!” lo’ak barks out, earning a kick from a soldier next to him.
“mm, i’ve seen you. the forest right? you’re sully’s oldest sons girl, aren’t you?” the man tilts his knife to control your head as he examines you.
“like i said… i’m not. telling. you. shit!” you hiss out, trying your hardest not to move your jaw from the knife being so close to cutting into you.
he finally pulls back when the loud yipping sounds of na’vi start to grow closer, stuffing his knife back into its cover on his hip, “na’vi inbound!” a soldier yells.
your head turns toward the sound, watching them all fly in on their tsuraks. the soldiers around you ready up, aiming at them with their weapons.
the na’vi in the water halt, sitting dormant in the water as if they’re examining the people onboard.
“dad!” tuk calls out desperately.
quaritch rips off lo’aks comm device from his neck, connecting it to himself to be able to talk to his father.
“jake, tell your friends to stand down. you want your kids back, you come out alone.” he speaks to him, “you know better than to test my resolve.” he pulls a handgun from his side, cocking it and pressing the barrel against the back of lo’aks head.
“no! lo’ak!” you gasp, grunting as you pull harder on your restraints.
“i took you under my wing, jake. you betrayed me. you killed your own,” he continues, “good men. good women. i will not hesitate to execute your kid.”
you begin to weep, out of rage and fear. hot angry tears streak your salty face as you tug on the handcuffs that refuse to budge. “please.” you beg, “don’t hurt him.”
your words earn a blow from a steel-toed boot against your ribs, “shut up, stupid girl.” the air punches out of your lungs as you keel over from the pain.
“offers fixin’ to expire. what’s it gonna be?” quaritch speaks into the comm.
in the distance, you watch a single tsurak start to swim forward away from the group of na’vi soldiers. it’s jake sully, he’s coming. but if he comes up here, he will die. you cannot let any of them die.
your breathing is erratic as your brain goes into overdrive, thinking of every possible way to get out of this. to save jake, lo’ak, and tuk- not even worrying about yourself at this point.
“easy shot.” a bald avatar says, but quaritch lowers the man’s weapon with his hand, “you hit them now, they attack. wait till he’s on board.”
lo’ak growls loudly from his words, causing the gun to press harder into the back of his head.
the next moments seemingly play out in slow motion. something you would have never assumed to be a possibility.
lo’aks tulkun breaches the water, launching himself over the boat as it bellows loudly in the sky. the crew begin to scurry as payakan falls down, squashing multiple soldiers beneath its heavy body.
water splashes all over the three of you, shrieking in surprise as the entire ship rocks and groans from the blow it just took.
the crew begin to shoot at him, but payakan slides a fin across the ground to pummel them. lo’ak kicks a soldier to make him stumble forward, helping out payakan so he could slam his fin down onto the man.
the tulkuns fluke rises into the air before crushing a crane and sending a smaller ship flying.
your eyes dart towards the water, smiling wide as the metkayina and jake charge towards the boat. “they’re coming!” you yell to lo’ak and tuk.
payakan dodges an incoming explosive spear, sending it somewhere onto the ship to detonate with a loud boom. the tulkun let’s out one last deafening roar before slipping back into the water, but not without taking down a few more men.
“sully’s inbound! i want eyes on!” quaritch orders as he steps away from the three of you.
a gunship is inbound in the sky, shooting multiple rounds into the water where the fleet of na’vi soldiers are underneath.
an ikran drops out of the clouds, appearing out of no where. a banshee from the forest, it’s neytiri.
the aircraft is quickly taken down, exploding into pieces as it pummels into a bank of rocks.
you watch the fight in the water, wincing at every person the na’vi brutally take down. “we need to get out of here.” you whine, pulling on your handcuffs with all of your strength.
“come on! come on!” you cry out as your feet push against the railing, trying your hardest to free yourself.
an explosion rocks the ship as a boat flies from the water and catches an engine on fire as it revs up. the main ship that you’re on accelerates forward at a terrifying speed.
“oh shit! oh shit! hold on!” you brace yourself as it runs over a bank of rocks, catapulting it into the sky, making it catch air underneath it’s belly.
the three of you hover in the air, the handcuffs being the only thing keeping you from flying away. the ship roughly crashes into the water, sending all three of you hurling towards the ground.
“you okay?” lo’ak asks you and tuk, before busying himself to try and pull at the restraints again.
“this boat is going down, and we need to get off of it right now!” you screech in a panic, leaning forward to try and rip the handcuffs off with your teeth.
in your peripheral vision, you see someone launch themselves out of the water and land on the pavement. your mouth pulls away from the material of the handcuffs, a giant smile pulling up on your face.
“neteyam!” tuk yells in excitement.
“i have never been so relieved to see you!” you cry out in happiness.
“need some help?” he teasingly asks as he bends down and unsheathes his knife. the blade easily slices the fabric off of your wrists. you fight yourself from leaping forward to plant a big fat kiss on his perfect lips.
“shut up. come on. get us loose.” lo’ak hurries his brother as he goes down the line of people, cutting the restraints.
your wrists are sore as you pull them towards your body, but that’s the least of your worries right now.
once tuk is loose, she throws herself at you for comfort. you quickly reciprocate by wrapping your arms around her to hold her close.
“it’s okay. get tuk out of here.” neteyam says to you as he steps over to lo’ak.
“what? no! i’m not leaving you.” you protest, making him growl in annoyance and send you a sharp look.
“bro, hurry up!” lo’ak complains, shaking his wrists against the metal railing.
“just go! i’ll be right behind you!” he yells back at you, as the knife cuts through lo’aks handcuffs, “who’s the mighty warrior, huh?” you hear neteyam say to his brother. that would make you laugh if you weren’t so worried right now.
you swiftly lift tuk up, running to the edge of the boat. you’re just about to jump, but tsireya pops up at the surface on her ilu. “here! bring her to me!”
tuk unravels herself from around you to hop onto the back of tsireya’s animal. the little girl looks up at you worriedly, “it’s okay, tuk. we’ll be right behind you!”
tsireya nods and shoots you a worried smile before diving under the water. you quickly turn on your heel to see lo’ak has been freed and snagged an assault rifle from a fallen soldier.
“come on. let’s go.” just as neteyam is about to run towards you, lo’ak goes the opposite way.
“they‘ve got spider. we’ve gotta get him. come on.” lo’ak motions with his head, “come on, bro! we can’t leave him.”
neteyam grunts loudly in frustration, and slams a fist against the ground before standing to his feet. he takes a moment to acknowledge you, looking over your body. his eyes catch the bloody scuffs on your knees, and a few scratches and bruises that litter your skin.
he steps forward, hands cupping your face. “are you alright?” he asks worriedly, his hands guide your body to turn in a three-sixty. his eyes look over your back for any sign of serious injury; like father like son.
“i’m okay, i’m okay. i swear.” you breathe out, slightly in a bit of shock but otherwise you’re okay.
your hands come up to rest against his rapidly rising chest, feeling his soft skin beneath your fingertips. you look up at him, his golden eyes are already staring down at you.
“seriously, bro? this is not the time for a reunion!” lo’ak shouts with evident annoyance in his voice.
neteyam chuckles from his brothers words, leaning down to swiftly peck your lips, “go find a weapon. any weapon.” he urges you.
you smile up at him before scurrying around to try and scavenge anything from the soldiers that are scattered on the ground. you find the knife neteyam gifted you lodged under one of the dead soldiers bodies, you can’t help but feel the sharp blade with the pad of your thumb.
thank eywa, you would hate yourself for eternity if you lost it.
neteyam grabs your hand to pull you along with him and his brother through the many hallways of the boat, with lo’ak leading.
“we have to climb.” neteyam whispers in your ear as your eyes follow lo’ak. the boy easily scales the wall by holding onto pipes. neteyam goes next, “watch me.” he climbs slowly for you.
you watch the exact placement of his feet and how he grips the metal with his hands. he follows the pipes up the wall and onto the ceiling, hanging upside down. “come on, you’re next. you can do it.”
you take a deep breath before hopping onto the pipes, copying his movements. until you’re hanging upside down and slowly climbing over an open room filled with the ships crew.
“evacuating, people. come on! let’s go!” a human man runs by screaming underneath you.
you squeak when your grip slightly falters, making neteyam stop in his tracks to look down at you through his legs.
“for the love of the great mother, please don’t fall.” he says to you, but it sounds as if he’s talking to himself.
the three of you slowly inch forward once the soldiers pass until you finally reach another metal platform. lo’ak is the first one to fall down, landing easily on his feet and then neteyam.
you’re still hanging on for dear life, not sure how you’re going to drop down that far without hurting yourself. especially your recently mended broken ankle.
“just fall! i’ll catch you!” he quietly calls up to you.
“are you sure? will you actually catch me?” you cry out, your muscles shaking under the pressure of holding up your entire body weight.
“yes! trust me!” he whisper-yells up to you, “lo’ak, help!” neteyam hisses at his brother.
before you could make the decision for yourself, your overworked muscles give out. you fall downward toward neteyam, your feet flail in the air. the scream that threatens to burst out from your lungs is held inside, scared it would give you away to the crew.
instead of feeling the pain of the pavement and metal coming in contact with your body, neteyam and lo’ak catch you.
your eyes are wide as you look over their shocked faces, “i can’t believe i just fell.” you breathe out as they put you down on your feet.
“gracefully, of course.” neteyam teases you with a wink, his hand pushes gently against your lower back to lead you in between him and his brother as they walk forward.
lo’ak slowly starts to creep forward until he reaches the end of the yellow platform you’re on.
a few soldiers are walking by with spider, so the sully brothers take the opportunity to jump on top of them to attack. lo’ak uses his gun he found to swing and hit a few of the men, instead of actually pulling the trigger. neteyam punches a few of them and tosses one of them overboard.
you can do this, you can do this.
with a deep breath, you jump down from above. you land on top of the shoulders of one of the men, using the blunt handle of your knife to hit him across the face. your thighs suffocatingly squeeze around his head until he falls to the ground unconscious.
the man falls forward directly on his face after losing to your battle, giving you the opportunity to land gracefully on your feet.
you let out a gasp when gunshots go off behind your back, spinning around with wide eyes to see who was shot- but it’s thankfully just lo’ak using his gun on one of them.
you stand up from your spot, panting as all of you look over the bodies of the men you just took out.
“oh, hey!” spider huffs out towards you, his chest huffing. you awkwardly wave at him, giving him a small smile. “we should go.” the human boy says next.
“let’s go.” neteyam says to you, grabbing your hand and jumping off with you to the lower ground floor.
“thanks, guys.” spider says breathlessly once all of you land safely.
your mouth opens to reply, but across the room two avatar mercenaries emerge and spot the four of you, “oh no.” you breathe out.
“go!” spider screams, his voice slightly cracks.
lo’ak attempts to aim and shoot, but neteyam shoves his gun down and pushes him forward.
“go, go, go!” neteyams hand tightly grips your wrist to pull you behind him as he runs forward, ducking his head to dodge the bullets.
“oh fuck! oh shit!” you screech as you’re blindly lead by neteyam as the bullets fly past your head.
the four of you scurry behind a wall. neteyam pushes you towards spider, the force making you stumble into the boy. neteyam snatches lo’aks gun from his hands, “give me that!”
he barely aims the gun at the men, and just starts pulling the trigger, “go, go, go!” he shouts, and points towards the open water.
spider and lo’ak are the first to jump, but you refuse to leave neteyam behind, “go! what are you doing? get out of here!” he screams at you, hiding behind cover before going to shoot at them again.
“screw that! i’m not leaving you, neteyam!” you argue with him, pressing your back farther into the wall as the bullets shoot into the concrete behind you.
“aah fuck! why do you have to be so stubborn?” he grunts at you, continuing to shoot at them. his gun clicks, indicating he’s out of ammo.
“come on!” he throws the gun to the side, extending his arm to grasp your hand tightly to run towards the water.
the soldiers continue to shoot at you until you both leap over the yellow railing and into the ocean. something hard pelts your right shoulder, making you wince as you fall towards the ocean.
the pressure of the water makes your hands separate, screaming out his name as he is sucked away from you.
once your eyes open under the salty seawater, all you can see is bubbles and the usually blue water is slightly stained red. your arms lift to paddle under the boat, but an excruciatingly sharp pain shoots from your right side.
using your left arm, you swim under the boat and pull yourself to the surface on the other side. gasping for air, you cry out hoarsely and cough as you bob under the water. the salty liquid fills your mouth whenever you try to speak.
“come on!” you hear tsireya’s voice coming from somewhere, but the waves continue to knock roughly against your head. every time your head sinks under the water, the crimson color worsens.
“neteyam!” you gargle out. every word you attempt to speak sparks at your nerve-endings, fueling the fire of the agony that ripples throughout your entire body.
“oh shit. she’s shot!” lo’ak screams, the sound of rapid swimming grows louder as someone comes over to you.
just as your body starts to sink again, an arm strongly slides under your arms from around your back. you gasp for air once you breach the surface, sputtering out the water inside of your mouth.
“help me! someone help me!” neteyams voice is loud next to your head, making your ears ring. your breath rapidly puffs from your mouth as you seek for some sort of solace from your pain.
another arm wraps around your body as you’re dragged forward in the water. you cough but instead it comes out like a wheeze. oh, that’s not good.
your eyes slightly squint open, only being able to see flashes of blue as your limp body is tugged onto the saddle of an ilu.
you let out a piercing cry as you’re forced to sit up on the animal. instinctively, you want to curl in on yourself, but the person behind you holds you up with their arms around your abdomen.
“it hurts!” you sob out loudly, which crying just makes the pain even worse. it feels as if the right side of your body has been replaced with ice and electricity that is wired directly to your spine.
you overhear spider say something along the lines of, “she’s bleeding really bad.” which makes the panic grow even more in your chest.
“i’m sorry, i’m sorry! everything is gonna be okay. bro, go!” neteyam shouts from behind you, pulling you back against his chest.
the ilu underneath you chirps as it takes off in the water, “it’s okay. we got you, i got you. hurry up!” his voice cracks as he desperately screams at his brother.
“i’m trying!” lo’ak shouts back at him as the ilu picks up speed to rush forward.
“they have kiri and tuk!” tsireya cries out from the fin of the ilu, making your eyes burst open from a rush of adrenaline. “we… have to go back!”
you attempt to sit up but instead you fall forward weakly onto lo’aks back in front of you. your cheek presses flat against his damp skin as you struggle to breathe, “we can’t! we can’t go back!” lo’ak yells out, continuing forward.
“dad-! eagle eye! y/n is shot! we need help!” neteyam uses his comm to talk to his father. his voice is frantic as he speaks to him, making you think your wound is worse than you think.
“hurry, lo’ak! dad is over there.” the boy behind you slightly moves, indicating that he’s pointing in a direction you can’t see.
it seems like an eternity until the ilu slows down, the creature squaks loudly in the rough water as the waves crash over your bodies.
“help!” neteyam shouts from behind you as he jumps into the water, “lo’ak, lower her to me!”
you let out a hoarse cough, your breathing still coming out in short bursts. you can barely open your eyes as you’re lowered into the rough water by lo’ak.
neteyam grabs ahold of your head, cradling you in his arms along with tsireya and spider holding onto your body so you wouldn’t float away.
“hurry!” she yells over the sound of the waves breaking against the shore.
“oh no.” you hear jake rush over to your side, opening your heavy eyelids to see him leaning over you from standing on the rock.
“hurry, please!” neteyam cries out, holding onto you tight.
“it’s gonna be okay, baby. i promise. my dads gonna help you.” his voice shakes as he speaks to you.
you raspily cough as another wave pelts your bodies, gurgling out the water as your head lulls to the side. “no, no, my love. stay with me.” one of his wet hands cups your cheek to pull your face back up, “hurry up! pull us up!” he yells at his father.
it seems like everybody’s hands are on you as you’re lifted out of the water and into the air. two different hands cradle your head, and others hoist your legs up.
you’re gently laid down onto the surface of the rock, a sob wracks through your lungs as you wheeze.
your breath comes in short, ragged gasps as you struggle to calm your racing heart. your chest feels tight, as if an invisible noose is constricting around your lungs.
your eyes finally open fully, tears clouding your vision. neteyam and jake are the ones directly beside you, their heads covering the cloudy sky.
“hold on.” jake warns you as he lifts you up to inspect the exit wound on your shoulder. your wound throbs, exploding in your head with a blinding whiteness.
the feeling makes you squirm, and gasp from the sheer amount of agony.
neteyams hand desperately holds onto yours, his watery eyes look down at you before glancing up at his dad. “do something! help her!”
the air whips around your body, causing your wet skin to feel colder than it should. your hand grips neteyams tightly, practically crushing his fingers.
jake presses one of his large hands against your chest to create pressure on your bleeding wound. you hiccup out a weak cry from the tenderness of it, writhing under his hand.
“it’s okay. it’s okay.” jake shooshes you gently, his eyes darting to his eldest son with a worried look.
“nete...” you croak out between your rapid breaths, making the boy look down at you.
“everything’s gonna be okay. i’m so sorry.” he repeats, making you shake your head. he goes to protest but neytiri arrives on her ikran, leaping off and rushing over to join the crowd gathered around you.
she gasps in shock and drops to her knees beside neteyam, one of her hands comes up to rest on your knee for comfort.
you give her a weak smile, your bottom lip quivering as you do so. you look over the people around you, seeing how they’re all crying for you. wow, it really seems like you’re dying right now.
jake sits back, his hand still pressed firmly on your chest. he looks off in the distance as if he’s listening to something.
“where are your sisters?” he questions neteyam and lo’ak, his eyes darting between them, “your sisters. where are they?” his voice grows louder.
“they’re on the ship.” you groan out, sputtering out a wet cough.
jake looks down at you, his eyes widening in fear. “neteyam, you stay here with her. keep pressure on it, it didn’t go all the way through. we’re gonna go get them.” jake transfers the job over to neteyam to keep you alive, and you can see the panic on the boys features.
neytiri stands alongside jake, ready to fight for her daughters, “where exactly are they?” jake asks you, but you have no idea.
“they’re.. they’re at the moon pool.” spider looks up at jake who’s face contorts in confusion, “at the well deck. midships?” he tries to simplify it, but somehow makes it more complicated.
“come on, i’ll show you.” spider stands and motions to the water.
“lo’ak, come!” neytiri calls her son, motioning towards her ikran for him to follow her.
the younger boy wipes his tears and taps your leg, “you better be all good by the time we get back.” he points at you as he was threatening you.
a shiver wracks your body, but you smile at him through the pain, “she will, yeah?” neteyam looks down at you with a watery smile, making you nod in response.
jake crouches beside you one last time, his hand resting on the top of your head. “try to control your breathing, okay? i know it hurts, but hyperventilating will make it worse. we’ll come back for you.” he gives you a soft smile before standing up to walk away with spider towards the water.
nausea starts to rise in your belly from the immense pain, making you feel as if you’re going to pass out.
before anything happens, you have to let neteyam know how you truly feel about him. you don’t care that tsireya is beside you, the only thing that matters right now is him.
“neteyam…” you cough roughly, forcing him to look down at you, “yes, yes, my love. i’m here.” his voice trembles.
you admire his saddened features for a moment; how his skin crinkles between his eyebrows, how his perfect lips quiver… the streak of your blood that runs across his cheek from inevitablely tucking his unruly braids behind his ear, and his big round eyes that are glassy with tears. he’s trying his hardest to bottle in his emotions to stay strong for you, to keep you calm… your love for him is unconditional.
“i love you. i always have.” your voice is almost like a whisper.
a sob escapes from his lips, dropping his head down onto your forehead softly before lifting back up to look down at you.
“nga yawne lu oer.” you repeat, choking on a cough that burns at your throat. you can feel your head growing lighter and lighter from the amount of blood you’re losing.
he can tell by the dim look in your eyes that your condition is worsening by the second, “i love you so much. more than anyone would ever know.” his voice cracks as his emotions finally spill over.
his head hangs between his shoulders as he sobs, his body shakes with each one that tears through him. you muster up the rest of your strength to lift your arm to cup his cheek and tilt his head towards you.
and suddenly, once his eyes are on yours, the feeling of warmth spreads throughout your cold, damp body. the pain slowly starts to fade as your mind succumbs to the sleepiness tugging at your brain. his golden eyes lull you to sleep, your hand drops from his face and lands on your body with a thud.
neteyam’s heart rate picks up as he watches you go limp and your hand intertwined within his loses it’s strength, “no, no, no, no!” his eyes frantically look over your face as your eyelids fall shut.
“no!” he screeches in pain, it feels as if his heart has been ripped in two. he cries out your name as he lifts your upper body up to cradle you, “please no! great mother, please-!” he’s cut off when his voice cracks and goes an octave higher than it should have.
tsireya cries silently next to you, her hand reaches out to rest on his shoulder for some sort of comfort to him.
neteyam pulls your body close to his, tucking your head under his chin as he rocks you back and forth, “my love, you can’t leave me. i’m so sorry. i should have protected you.”
the boy feels himself growing smaller as he holds your limp body in his arms. this heartbreak is different for him. it feels cold and weighs heavy in his chest like drying concrete. he should’ve put you in front of him- he should’ve taken the bullet for you.
your body twitches in his grasp, making him pull back to look down at you. he leans down to bring his ear to your mouth, feeling the very subtle puffs of air leaving your nose.
before he could rule out your death, his fingers find the pulse points scattered along your body. your heartbeat is weak, but still there underneath your skin.
“she’s alive.” he whispers into the air in shock, his eyes look at tsireya, “she’s alive! she’s breathing!” he exclaims through his tears.
“we can’t wait for them. we need to get her to the village right away.” tsireya stands to run to the water to summon her ilu with a few clicks emitting from her throat.
the animal chitters as it’s head breaches the surface. neteyam picks you up to walk you to the edge, tsireya helps him into the water with you and onto the saddle with her before she takes off back towards awa’atlu.
…
the sound of beeping is the first thing you hear when you wake up, and the sound of your own sluggish breathing. something is tightly wrapped around your right arm, your shoulder, and across your breasts; to replace your top.
slowly, your eyes begin to flutter open, instantly being met with a pair of glowing yellow eyes belonging to norm.
maybe you died and woke up back in the forest.
“hey, good morning. how you feelin?” he asks you before glancing down at a tablet in his hand.
your brain takes in everything around you, all the gear brought in by norm and most likely max too. the marui you’re in is tiny, definitely not the one you lived in with the sullys. the iv stand that holds a bag of fluids that’s connected to your good arm. the amount of mobility in your neck isn’t the greatest, forcing you to only be able to use your eyes.
you can tell you’re laying on a cot with a blanket over your body; a familiarly weaved one.
as you blink away the sleep from your eyes, your memories starting to flood back into your brain. panic settles in the deepest part of your chest, washing over your body like a tidal wave, “where’s neteyam?” your hoarse voice croaks nastily from your throat being tremendously dry.
norm motions behind him with his head, “he’s sleeping over there. he’s been waiting for you to wake up for quite a bit now.”
your head painfully turns to the side to look at your boy, who is sleeping sitting up. his arms are crossed over his chest, eyelashes fluttered shut over his cheeks. he looks so peaceful.
“what happened?” you mumble softly, now turning your attention back to norm.
“well…” he sighs, “you were shot and we had to get the bullet out that was lodged in your right lung. you’re honestly really lucky to be alive.” norm simplifies it with a pitiful smile as he looks at you, “now, let me wake your lover boy up.”
norm stands to take a step towards neteyam, slightly shaking his shoulder to tell him that you’re awake. you notice how is arms are the first to fall, then his head. his body suddenly realizes it’s time to wake up, and then his eyes open. he blinks wildly as he attempts to understand what norm is saying to him.
then his eyes are on yours, his golden-honey colored eyes you adore so much.
neteyam practically shoves norm out of the way to crawl forward, sliding on his knees. before speaking any words to you, he leans down to press a gentle kiss against your lips which you gladly reciprocate; so soft it’s almost as if he’s afraid he would break you.
“…and that’s my cue to leave.” norm shuffles out of the marui to give you two some privacy.
“i can’t believe you’re awake. i thought i was going to lose you.” his eyes refuse to look at you as he stares at your heart rate on the monitor, his breathing hitches as he fights back tears.
“neteyam… you know nothing could break us apart, not even a bullet.” you say jokingly, which he slightly chuckles at.
you try to laugh along with him, but a cough replaces it instead. pain shoots through the right side of your body, but thankfully not as bad as it was before. he frowns at your discomfort, his hand on your upper arm rubs soft patterns into your skin.
“i’m never going to let you out of my sight again. you know that right?” he lets out a breath, leaning down to lay his chin against your good shoulder. he looks up at you with his pretty smile.
“wait, is everyone else okay? kiri? tuk?” worry settles in your chest. you didn’t even get to find out if they were rescued before you went unconscious.
“don’t worry. everybody is okay. scratched up, but okay.” he breathes out, his eyes dance over your face before leaning down to kiss you once more.
before your lips could even graze against each others, someone clears their throat from the entrance of the marui.
neteyam lifts his head up, his ears pinning back in embarrassment when he sees his dad standing there. you can’t help but smile at jake sully, happy to see him in one piece.
“hey, kid.” he ducks his head as he takes a step inside. as he grows closer, you notice the stitched cuts that litter his blue skin.
“ouch. what happened to you?” you jokingly ask him, which makes the man laugh softly as he squats down to the level your cot.
“could ask you the same thing. how ya feeling?” he briefly looks over at his son before back at you.
“i’m alive… and probably on a bunch of pain meds so i’m feeling ppprrretty good.” you softly laugh out, slightly wincing from the dull pain.
“alright, come on in.” he waves at doorway.
you watch as two pairs of eyes emerge from the doorway, belonging to tuk and kiri. the little girl smiles when she makes eye contact with you, running over to your side.
kiri takes her time to walk up to you, sitting beside her older brother as tuk pushes her dad out of the way to hug you.
“gentle, gentle.” jake warns her.
“i missed you.” she whispers. your free arm pats her back, before she pulls back and sits down next to her dad.
your free hand is quickly taken away from tuk as kiri grabs it and holds onto you. “i thank the great mother everyday for keeping here you with us.” her serene voice speaks softly to you.
“i’m so happy all of you are okay.” you feel your emotions starting to get the best of you, a small tear slides out of the corner of your eye.
“we’re so happy that you’re okay.” jake says, smiling m down at you.
“where’s neytiri and lo’ak?” you slightly clear your throat, your eyes darting over the sully’s surrounding you.
almost divine timing as lo’ak slides through the entrance with his mother following, “we’re here.” neytiri gives you a soft smile as they tower over you from the end of your bed.
norm peeks inside, his eyebrows furrowing. the sully family packed themselves so tight in here to visit you, “alright people. let her rest.” norm lectures, ushering them out one by one.
“if he thinks i’m leaving you, he is very wrong.” neteyam whispers in your ear, making you grin.
“c’mon, neteyam.” jake says from the doorway, motioning with his hand for his son to follow. he sighs loudly as he presses a kiss to your temple and standing up. he can’t say no to his father, as much as he wish he could.
“coming.” he grumbles as neteyam looks back at you to smile briefly before following his dad.
your eyes roll back to stare at the ceiling, tracing every tight weave of the fabric that makes up the marui. norm checks a few things by your beside, marking down your current vitals and hooking up another bag of iv fluids.
“you’ll be better in no time.” norm smiles down at you.
the next few weeks go by terribly slow, you’re bed-ridden for most of the time; until norm or max decide it’s time for you to get up and stretch your legs.
even the slightest movement is strenous. as if you just ran around awa’atlu and back, your stamina is just not the same as it was. you can barely make it past the marui outside before you have to turn back to lay down.
today is the day that your stitches are being taken out, finally giving you free access to examine your wound. you crane your head down, bringing your chin to your chest to stare at it. it’s merely a discolored scar, no longer a hole, that is perfectly sealed. almost as if nothing has happened.
you take a deep breath, looking up at norm and max with a smile, “thanks for everything. seriously.”
they both nod and smile at you, “of course. anything for you. we couldn’t let anything happen to you, we promised your mom and you that.” max replies.
the mention of your mother makes your heart tighten in your chest, but you push the thought to the back of your mind. “now, you have to follow our instructions. no exercise, no crazy swimming, you can get in the water but nothing more than slow wading and/or floating.” norm points out.
“oh, and when we say exercise, we mean nothing that will make your heart and respiration rate go up too much.” max adds, eyeing you suspiciously.
your eyes look over them, a bit confused on what they are insinuating. finally it clicks, they mean sex. heat rises from your chest and settles onto your cheeks, slightly wiggling in your seat uncomfortably.
“oh my god. shut up. i’m not doing any of whatever you’re saying.” you shamefully put your head in your left hand, still being wary on using your right one yet.
“okay good.” norm nods with an awkward laugh, “alright, well the worlds waitin’ for you! go out and get it.” he motions to the door.
“yeah, yeah.” you murmur and stand up from your sitting position on the bed.
just as your mind ponders on where neteyam could be, his face peeks around the corner. a big smile forms on his face when he sees you standing up.
you wave at norm and max before walking outside into the sunshine, “ah there’s my girl.” his large hands consume your waist as he leans down to press a soft kiss to your lips. you savor the feeling of properly being able to kiss him.
he pulls back from you, his eyes glance down over your face with heavy eyelids. “i can’t believe you’re standing up right now.” his fingertips softly press into your fleshy waist out of excitement.
the touch is so subtle but it sends a visceral jolt down your spine. all you can do is smile at him and lean into his chest for a hug. the boy wraps his arms gently around your shoulders, pulling you in closer.
“i love you.” you mumble against his warm skin. being the first time you’ve said it to him since you were hurt.
neteyam squeezes your frame under his muscular arms and kisses the top of your head. “i love you.” his voice rumbles deep in his chest; the sound comforts you.
“i have something to show you.” he hums as he pulls away, “a little welcome back gift.”
your eyebrows raise in curiosity, “oh really? what is it?” you attempt to pry, but by the looks of how his face scrunches up he isn’t going to budge on his secret.
“lets go. i must show you.” he unravels his arms from around you to grab one of your hands. he’s gentle as he leads you towards the beach.
the warm sands sinks in between your toes, making you gasp in awe from the feeling. oh how you’ve missed this. the heat of the sun beats down on your head, enveloping your body in a euphoric state.
the shells sitting at the shore rustle under the soft waves, creating natural music as they roll around.
neteyam continues to lead you down to the water. you let out a happy cackle as the sea foam tickles your toes, “this is amazing.”
he stares at you in awe from how excited you are to be with the sea again. the rays of the sun catch your features perfectly, making him want to melt into the sand. you’re ethereal to him.
the clicking noise he makes takes your attention away from the water. you carefully watch the sea, taking notice to something stirring beneath the surface. you almost jump back in surprise when an ilu bursts from the water and squaks loudly at you both.
“you could’ve given us a little bit of a warning, buddy!” neteyam laughs loudly as he steps farther into the water, now knee high.
oh, how careful he is with you. his hand tightly grips yours as he approaches his bonded animal, “you ready?” he glances back at you.
you give him a nod of approval, letting him pull you forward in the water. his hands grip your waist gently to lift you up to place you on the back of the saddle.
has he been working out since you’ve been out of commission? the way he picks you up like you weigh nothing makes your belly burst with butterflies. it’s so attractive.
he’s next to climb up, easily situating himself in front of you as he brings his kuru forward to make tsaheylu. your arms instinctively slither around his slender body, pressing yourself into his back.
“hold on to me. i’m still gonna go slow, okay?” he says to you, slightly turning his head to the side to look behind him.
“let’s go! let’s go!” you bounce excitedly as you look up at him. he chuckles in response as the ilu takes off, slower than its usual pace.
instead of diving beneath the water, neteyam keeps both of you above the surface. the water splashes up on your legs, barely misting you in the face.
you admire the village from this angle, feeling as if you’ve taken it all for granted before the accident. it’s always been beautiful to you, but now you take the time to look at every little detail; treasuring life.
the trip isn’t long, but it’s very secluded from the rest of the village. he follows a saltwater canal that runs between the large mangrove trees. soon the sun is taken away from you by their large branches and leaves.
the darkness reveals the bioluminescence during the day, your eyes ogle over the side of the ilu. you’ve never seen anything like this before, not even in the forest.
“neteyam. where are you taking me?” your voice is quiet, afraid any harsh or loud tone would disturb the peacefulness of it all.
“tsireya showed lo’ak, kiri, and i this sort of cove,” your eyes continue to dart around the new environment, “it sits hidden somewhere amongst these trees.“ he mumbles as he searches for any familiar landmark.
the canal splits off into two, his gut feeling is to take the right one. the water glows blue from the motion of the animal, indicating he has taken the correct path.
the sound of running water grows louder as he continues forward, but the ilu slows down to a stop. “we have to swim the rest of the way. it is too shallow for him to swim.”
neteyam climbs off the animal, standing up since his feet can touch the ground. he’s about chest high in the water as he reaches up for you, “here goes nothing.” you mumble to yourself, letting his hands carefully grab you to hoist you down to his level.
the boy helps you float onto his back, “hold onto my neck. you can’t stand here and i don’t want you to swim too much.”
you smile at his kindness, how he continues to worry about you. your legs wrap around his torso under the water, your arms drape around his neck loosely. you slightly cringe from the tightness in your right arm, huffing slightly from the pain.
“you good?” he asks as he continues forward down the creek, “yep. all good.” you mumble quietly.
your eyes can’t help but dance around. this place is magical, like something you would read from a human storybook.
the soft flow of water that ripples from his movement sends serotonin chemicals to your brain. the sound of a waterfall grows louder by the second, but you see nothing in front of you.
“here we are.” he stops for a moment, before pushing back the dense sea vines that hang from a thick branch.
behind the leaves are brightly colored seawater pools that cascade down into a bigger one. each one is a slightly brighter blue, almost neon from the bioluminescent glow.
you gasp in shock from the overwhelming amount of color as neteyam walks forward. he steps out of the water onto a bank, letting you down off of his back. “beautiful, right?” he’s almost breathless from the view, and he’s seen it once before.
you take a hesitant step forward, watching how your foot sinks into the glowing sand. “this is absolutely breathtaking, neteyam.”
you’re speechless, unable to wrack any other words out except that it’s breathtaking. you dip a toe into the water, almost leaping into it out of happiness from how warm it is.
“these are sacred pools to the metkayina. they are connected to eywa.” he informs you as he sinks forward into the water that sparkles brightly under the motion.
you follow him into the cove, eyes taking in the foliage and rocks that surrounds the pools. “you can be within the great mother here. to connect to her, to pray, to give birth, to marry, and to mate.” the last word is almost whispered out amongst the steam that sits above the surface.
your body becomes hot, whether it’s from the temperature of the water or his words. once neteyam is waist deep in the main pool, he turns around as he grabs his braid off of his back.
almost as if it sensed his presence, a bright pink leave-like tendril unravels from the rocky side of the pool. you watch as he connects his queue to it, bright pink and glowing along with the rest of the world around you.
neteyams eyes flutter shut and his shoulders drop down slightly, his breathing evens out as he relaxes. your eyes dance across his abdomen, following the perfectly etched muscles in his blue skin.
you follow the stripes that litter his body, and the freckles that sparkle in the darkness. your eyes catch the beaded neck piece he always seems to wear, smiling as you step forward.
one of his eyes peek open to watch you shuffle closer, outstretching his hand for you to take. you reach behind your back with your good arm to grip your thick braid, bringing it around to connect it to the plant.
your breath hitches in your chest from the feeling of uniting with eywa. your grip on his hand tightens as the feeling grows stronger, washing over your nervous system with harmonious tranquility.
your breathing evens out, and the ache of pain subsides in your chest. you feel as if you’re floating, or have drank a little too much of the nectar you sneak during celebrations.
you lean into his chest, your skin bursts with tingles all over your body once you touch him. the boy almost groans in pleasure, but holds it back for his own dignity.
you revel in the feeling of your hand gliding up his lengthy arm, feeling every little fuzzy hair. neteyam stares down at you, watching your movements with heavy eyelids.
“i want to be one with you.” he blurts out, making your doe-like eyes shift from his body to his face.
“with me?” your voice is slightly shaky, whether it’s from the effects of the plant or nervousness.
he unlatches his braid from the plant, motioning with a nod of his head for you to do the same. you gulp as he holds his kuru in between your bodies, ready to officially bond with you.
the pink wisps float and reach towards the end of your braid in your hand, begging to connect with yours. you glance up at the boy in front of you, who waits patiently for you to connect them.
you take a deep breath before moving yours closer, watching how intimately the extensions of yourselves wind up and tangle together.
both you, and neteyam, suck in a sharp breath through your teeth in sync. the feeling of your nervous systems connecting creates a deep crater of heat in your lower belly.
neteyam can sense your arousal; he can feel you. how you’re pulsating between your thighs for him, and your nerve endings that make him feel the same way.
“oh, neteyam.” you mewl out, stepping forward to press your hand against his warm chest.
as soon as your head angles up to look at up, he swoops down to catch your lips with his own. sparkles explode, making both of you cry out in amazement.
teeth clack together as his hand presses into your lower back to pull you even closer to him. your hot body against his puts him in a euphoric state, begging you silently to let him touch you.
he leans forward, almost bending you backwards to deepen the heated kiss. your tongues become one as you both grow more desperate for each other, to feel more.
he whines as one of his hands slide up your side, his fingertips feel as if they’ve been replaced with feathers. his large hand hovers beneath your breast, slightly pulling back from kissing you, “can i touch you…” his voice is shallow, with the slight twinge of desperation.
“you can do anything you want. please.” your eyes flutter open to be met by his hungry gaze.
he presses forward, connecting your lips once again to continue where he left off. his hand grips your breast that fits perfectly in the palm of his hand, while his other hand busies itself by sliding over the swell of your ass.
his fingers are so long, they curl against your inner thigh. so close, yet so far from where you need him the most.
you both moan out when he finally touches you, his thumb swipes over your sensitive nipple, causing a whimper to tumble out of your lips.
“i love how you sound.” he heaves into the kiss, making another high-pitched mewl puff into his mouth from you.
the boy gently pulls away from the kiss, keeping your bottom lip between his teeth before releasing it. he watches how it bounces back into place, before swooping down to your neck.
he leaves kisses and tiny love bites under your jaw and shoulder, as his hand continues to tease you against your inner thigh.
he slightly brushes his fingertips against the cloth that separates his hand from your core, making you wail out in shock.
he pulls back from his attack on your neck, his eyes intently look over your face. “i want to make love with you… here. if you’ll have me.” his voice is almost nervous.
you can feel the anxiety biting at your chest, itching to make itself known but you push it away. you’re safe with him, and you know he will always be gentle with you.
“i want you, neteyam. all of you.” you nod in agreement, one of your arms lift to cup the back of his neck to pull him down to your level.
he smiles as you kiss him, grinning like a wild man. he pulls back slightly, nuzzling your noses together, “i love you so much.” he whispers into your shared breath as he continues to keep eye contact with you.
“i love you.” you reply before closing the space between your mouths.
neteyam quickly takes control, moving his hand away from your breast to cup both of his hands under your ass to lift you slightly out of the water.
he presses your back down against a rocky bank over to the side. it sits shallow in the pool, letting the warm water sit dormant against your upper thighs.
the sully boy slots himself in between your legs as he kisses down your chest, careful over your wound until he makes it to the waistband of your loincloth.
his big round golden eyes stare down at you, the look he gives you makes any sort of reservation disappear from your mind.
you nod fervently to give him the okay. his long fingers tentatively hook into the thin cloth to unravel it from your body.
once the cloth is discarded somewhere to the side, he leans down to kiss you. his lips work magic against yours as if he knows your body like the back of his hand.
his mouth strays away from yours, pressing wet kisses down your neck until he meets your shoulder.
“sevin nìtxan lu aynga nang.” his tempting voice growls into your ear. the feeling of his breath washing over your skin sends shockwaves throughout your nerves. “you are so pretty.”
his hand ghosts down your abdomen, tracing lines down your tender skin. at last, he finally touches you, making you cry out into humid air.
neteyam let’s out a gasp as he mouths at your neck. the same feeling transferred over to him through your connection.
a feeling that’s so foreign to you, but something that you never want to stop. you let your hands explore his body as the pleasure sparks between your legs. your fingers dance over his biceps, across his chest and up to his neck.
countless sounds tumble from your lips, your back arches off the damp rock as you moan out his name. neteyam chuckles deeply against your lips from the desperation in your voice, “almost, baby.” he hushes you as he dives into the kiss.
soon his hand pulls away, leaving your chest heaving and the close proximity of your climax withering away. “whhhyyy…” you whine, your thighs clench around his hips to pull him closer.
“not yet.” he hums. his forearm sits heavy next to your head, slightly leaning to the side to unclasp the loin cloth that sits around his hips. he throws it behind him somewhere, not caring if it lands in the water. it’s the last thing on his mind when he has you underneath him.
you can’t help but glance down between your bodies then back up to him with wide eyes. his eyes look over your face, seeing the apprehension in your eyes. “do you trust me?” he mumbles.
you intently watch how his wet lips move as he talks to you, almost in a trance. “yeah, of course i do.” you breathe out shakily.
he grins from your response, “i will always be careful with you, muntxa.”
the new nickname makes your heart soar- he referred to you as his mate. he notices your emotions growing higher, by the way your eyes go glossy. he can read you like a book.
his lips press into yours, passionate and desperate as he situates himself below.
this is much different from his hand, the pressure makes your fingernails dig deep into his shoulder blades. the gravelly sound he makes sends flutters up your spine, forcing your brain into overdrive to evoke more of those from his lips.
you’re the one making him feel this way. desire clouds your thoughts, your legs aid in pushing his hips down until he is flush against your body. he stills for a moment, breathing heavily into your mouth as if he’s holding himself back.
the next few movements of his hips make you cry out in ecstasy. he’s quick to pull more out of your chest, a flurry of his names and pleas for more.
his lips leave marks scattered across your neck, whispering praises into your ear as your body lurches underneath him. he doesn’t hold back with his own noises which forces you closer to the edge.
your body lets go, arms tightening around his neck to trap him close to your body as your thighs seize around his waist. you choke out a cry of his name, feeling his tail wrap around your ankles to lock you in.
his teeth sink into the meaty flesh of your shoulder, a true sign of becoming his mate. you wince from the slight pain, but it’s nothing you can’t handle.
his body stills and trembles on top of you, indicating his release. he pulls his mouth away from your neck, gasping for breath. his eyes examine the two red spots from his canines that pierced you.
one of his hands come up to swipe the beads of blood away from your skin before leaning up to look at you. his forehead leans against yours, noses slotting together. “my love, you are amazing.” he murmurs breathlessly and lays his entire body weight on top of you.
you cackle loudly from the pressure of his body on yours, “get off… can’t breathe.” you throw your head back as you jokingly let out a wheeze.
neteyam sharply lifts off of you, his eyes wide as he looks over you wildly. his quick movements give you whiplash, he sits back on his heels and stares at you worriedly. “are you okay? i’m sorry. i didn’t think you wouldn’t be able to breathe. i-.” his voice trails off when his hands rub over his face.
you sit up in your spot, your legs still loosely draped around his hips. your small hands reach up to wrap around his wrists, pulling his hands away from his face. “oh neteyam. i was just joking.” your voice is soft.
he flies forward, all arms as he wraps himself around you, his head presses into the crook of your neck. one of his large hands cradles the back of your head, “i’m so sorry. i didn’t mean to upset you.” you mumble out against his chest.
“it just- that noise. it reminded of me of everything that happened… when you were.. were hurt.” his voice croaks, obviously holding back his tears.
your heart aches for him, guilt sitting heavy in your chest. “i love you. i’m so sorry.” you sniffle, holding onto his waist so tight like as he would be ripped away from you at any moment.
“don’t be sorry. it’s not your fault.” he shudders, pulling back slightly. he kisses your forehead and sucks in a deep breath through his nose, “i love you.”
you take a deep breath before unraveling yourself from his body, “let’s go in the water.” you mumble, trying to change the subject. you’re still sensitive to the mention of your ‘accident’.
he smiles down at you, his thumb and forefinger pinches your chin to look into your eyes. he wiggles out of your grip to slide backwards into the cerulean water. his hand grabs your ankle to carefully tug you along with him, “come.” he laughs.
you use your arms to lift yourself up and hop beside him. he instantly pulls you into his chest, rocking side to side on heels. you relax in his embrace before he unravels one of his arms to pluck something out of the water.
your eyes open to see him holding up his loin cloth, it’s soaked and dribbling into the water. you can’t help but stifle a giggle into your fist, “so that’s where it went.”
neteyam rolls his eyes jokingly, a smile on his face as he takes a step back from you. he swoops down to peck a kiss to your lips before walking to the edge to climb out.
you watch his every move, how he expertly ties the wet cloth back around his hips and tail. it swishes happily behind him when he turns around and sees you watching him.
you suddenly feel a lot less clothed, crossing your arms over your chest insecurely. neteyam looks down at your breasts then back up to your face, “my love. you realize… we just?” he questions you with a cackle.
you huff out of annoyance, looking around for your clothes he discarded everywhere. “can you please find my clothes?” you whine.
“but i want to see you like that. you’re beautiful. i don’t like your clothes.” he teases you, placing his hands on his hips.
“you know, i can feel my shoulder thumping from you biting me.” you say matter-of-factly with a humorous tone.
“it was just the moment, but hey! now everyone will know not to mess with you because you’re mine.” he chuckles, his eyes glimpse at the very evident bite mark on your left shoulder.
what a possessive little bitch. everyone knows you’re his, but now it’s evidently marked on your body; they’ll know you’ve mated. it makes your belly do somersaults, aching to jump his bones again.
neteyam peeks around at the foliage, looking for your top and bottoms. he bends down in some plants, grabbing a piece of cloth and your beaded top a few steps away. “don’t worry, i got ‘em.” he holds them close to his chest, motioning for you to come to him.
you huff as you wade through the warm water, taking one of his hands as he helps you take a step onto the bank of rocks.
neteyam slides the beaded top over your head, situating it over your chest. he notices how you struggle to tie the cloth on your hips, so he slaps your fingers away and ties them himself. “don’t strain yourself please.” he mumbles, “you know i’d do anything for you. even the simplest things.”
your head falls to look at your shuffling feet, feeling slightly useless from your limited mobility. he rustles with something, the sound of beads clacking makes your head peek up.
neteyam pulls the beaded neckpiece off of his neck, lowering it to you. “no, no.” you put your hands up. you know how much it means to him, and he always wears it. “your mom made that for you. i can’t take that.”
“yes, yes you can.” he pushes it against your neck, but your hand slithers between the necklace and your skin.
“no, neteyam.” you shake your head, staring up at him with your furrowed eyebrows. your angry face makes humor bubble in his chest, he can’t take you seriously.
“yes, y/n.” he mocks you, “just accept it.” he shushes you as he continues to wrap the material around your neck.
the piece perfectly forms around your neck, sitting cold and heavy. this will definitely take some getting used to. he takes a step behind you to tie the leather pieces together, tightening it around your neck. loose enough to breathe and eat comfortably, but tight enough so it won’t move.
“i must gift my new mate something of mine. it must be this, because the only other thing i have on me is my tweng.” he laughs.
“i wouldn’t mind taking your tweng off.” you slyly reply with a smirk as your fingers touch and admire the woven beads.
neteyam laughs loudly at that and throws his head back. he leans down from behind you to kiss your shoulder, “don’t worry about that. you can take it off anytime.” his voice is low, almost like a purr in your ear.
from his very persuading words, you spin around to look at him. your fingers busy themselves to toy with the waistband of his loincloth, “can i right now?” you stare up at him through your eyelashes, craving him already.
neteyam stills from your sudden energy, his eyes drop down to your hands then glance up at your face. “right now?” he asks almost in disbelief.
“right now, please.” you beg, voice shaky as you desperately grab at his hips. he gives you a simple nod of his head, your hands instantly peel the wet fabric away from his body.
neteyam leans down to pick you up, his fingertips press deep into your flesh. he presses his lips against yours, a little rougher than earlier. that’s actually amazing.
your hands card through his braids, slightly tugging at the base of them when your back collides with the trunk of a tree. neteyam blindly unravels your bottoms, continuing to kiss you intensely.
neteyam finishes what he started earlier, but this time he doesn’t hold back. he makes sure every last drop of your hunger is satisfied, giving you all that he has left in him the second round; and maybe even a third one. you cannot keep your hands to yourself, he’s just so beautiful and you’ve missed him so much.
after catching your breath and getting redressed for the second time, you finally start to head back towards the village. you melt into the heat of his back, positioning your head in the divot of his spine.
his body is so comfortable, and the sound of the water is so relaxing- you can’t help but fall asleep. you’ve exerted yourself more than you have in weeks, maybe months.
neteyam slightly shifts, making you wake up. your eyes flutter open to be met with the white sand of the beaches of awa’atlu. “we’re here.” his voice is soft as you sit up and yawn.
neteyam hops into the sea before helping you down with him. you follow him through the waist deep water and up to the shore, walking forward and into the warm sand.
his hand possessively holds yours as he proudly leads you back the marui. you’re incredibly nervous to walk around with an obvious mating mark on your shoulder, and wearing neteyams neck piece.
the villagers that pass you by, stare at you in shock. whether it’s because you’re the girl that is known for almost dying, or because your scent is strongly masked by his.
some of them whisper, and peek at you both through their peripheral vision. neteyam looks back at you with wide eyes, smoothly wrapping his arm around your shoulders instead of holding your hand.
“i think they are jealous.” he hums.
“jealous?” you nuzzle into his ribs, “very jealous.” he replies, and tightens his grip around your shoulders when he sees the chiefs son with a few of his goonies, “hi, ao’nung.” you wiggle your fingers at him lazily.
the boy gawks, his eyes take in the numerous love bites you left on neteyam and the teeth mark on your shoulder. then his eyes travel to the neck piece just as you pass him, “look at them!” one of his friends whispers, making ao’nung elbow him.
you repress a giggle in your hand, which makes neteyam sputter and press his lips to the top of your head to calm himself.
from a distance, you take note that jake and lo’ak are standing outside of the marui. surprisingly, they’re fishing together.
as the two of you approach them, jakes gaze falters from the water to look at you. “you’re back! look at you!” he exclaims loudly, patting lo’aks shoulder while he starts to walk towards you and his eldest son.
“oh wow. they healed that up very nice.” he glances at the wound, before his eyes trail up to the beads sitting beautifully on your neck. he glances at neteyam, then back to you, then back to his son.
the man clears his throat and stands up straight with his hands on his hips. obviously trying his hardest to not stare at his sons empty neck replaced with tiny bruises the size of your lips.
lo’ak turns around from looking in the water, a grin on his face when he sees you. his eyes perceive the situation, and the tension hits him like tidal wave.
his face drops into a cocky grin when he looks at his brother, “nice.” the boy nods his head.
“lo’ak.” jake hisses a warning at his son, making him turn his attention back to the line in the water.
“look, i don’t care what you kids do, i was your age once,” the sentence makes neteyam cringe, and open his mouth to speak. jake puts his hand up to silence him, “but just make sure you’re safe, and please… for the love of god don’t let your mother see.”
“dad.” neteyam barks out a laugh, which earns him a glare, “don’t worry. we were before eywa, so mom should have no problem.”
you can feel your body getting warmer by the second from this very awkward conversation.
“do not tell me what?” neytiri peeks out of the entrance of the pod, her curious eyes observe the three of you.
you watch as her face drops when she notices the jewelry adorning your neck. she takes two large steps over to you, her hand carefully touches the necklace.
then her fingertips graze over the sensitive mark on your shoulder, “you gave her your fkxile.” she hisses out, a bit too aggressively for your liking. her eyes side eye her son, staring at him with silent fury.
she’s mad about the necklace. not even the fact that you’re walking around with an evident bite mark on your shoulder, from her son.
“mother, she is my yawne. i must gift her something of mine.” he explains himself to her, but all you heard was yawne.. he called you his beloved.
she steps back with an angry huff of breath, “ah!” she hisses and balls her fists by her side.
“you are too young,” she points at him, then turns to you, “and you are still healing!”
“what if a child comes out of this? you are not bonded!” she continues ranting.
neteyam steps forward slightly in front of you, “mom, don’t worry about that. we did make tsaheylu.” he puts his hands up in front of him, as if he was trying to calm her.
her gaze shoots over to him, softening from his words. “you did?” she looks at you, smiling softly; almost proud of you and her son.
jake steps forward from behind his wife, his face obviously worried from her changing emotions. your eyes glance over at lo’ak who is staring wide eyed and open mouthed.
when he sees you look at him, he turns his eyes back towards the water.
this is so awkward. being bombarded by his parents to talk about your sex life is another level of embarrassing. you smile awkwardly and nod, “alright, kids. go inside.” jake motions for you two to continue walking.
neteyam exhales in relief, “thank you.” and grabs your hand to tug you inside quickly. “they are so fucking embarrassing.” he hisses once he is far enough away.
the two of you stare at each for a moment, before bursting into a fit of giggles. the kind of laugh that makes your sides hurt, one that’s so contagious that neither of you can stop.
you’re forced to lean into his body for some sort of support, but he stumbles back from your weight. this just causes you to laugh even harder when he falls back into the wall.
your hands fall to knees, trying to take a deep breath. you feel the tears leak onto the apples of your cheeks, but there’s nothing you can do to stop.
unbeknownst to you, jake and neytiri are staring at you two from the doorway with a smile on their faces. jake has his arm slung over his wife’s shoulder, “they really do care for each other.” he comments.
“they are in love.” she breathes out softly, watching you and neteyam with adoration sparkling in her eyes; happy that her son has finally found his mate.
“let’s leave ‘em alone. we can go take a ride on my tsurak?” jake suggests, looking down at her. she nods with a smile, letting him lead her away from the doorway.
you’ve finally calmed down enough to take a full breath, a giggle still escaping here and there. you and neteyam wound up on the floor in your heap of laughter.
his hand is intertwined with yours as you sit in front of him on your heels. you wipe your tears away with your other hand.
“i…” you giggle, shaking your head, “love you… so much.” you hurl over, grabbing your stomach as another laugh quakes through your body.
neteyam leans forward, one of his hands smooth down the back of your hair. his lips peck against the top of your head, making you lift it to look him in the eyes.
“i see you, and i love you.” he mumbles, glancing down to your lips.
when he leans forward to finally kiss you, it feels like the first time. love drunk from kissing him, you ache for more…
this boy, the one you’ve yearned for since you were a teenager; who stole your sight away from any other na’vi boy, never being able to compare to anyone else. now you’re his lifelong mate, something you never would have predicted to happen. you’ll grow old together, have your own children… it’s written amongst the stars, the sea, and in the trees.
you never knew your heart could be this full- to love and care for someone so much; so deeply in your soul.
there’s nobody else you’d rather be with except for him. knowing deep down he is the one for you, and you are the one for him; for the rest of your lives.
—
tags: @k----a27s @aspenreadsfanfic @aliseaaah @bellwhether @xoxobabe @koalalafications @embersfae @mae-is-crazy @softhetixx @minkyungseokie @iwanttohitmyself @neqeyam @lovedbychoi @lala-1516 @jbxws @ancientbeing10 @angrycoffeebean @taleiak @nyenye @vivangothic @theunfortunateplace @jakesully-sbabygirl @urdeadpoet
i hope u guys liked the ending. it’s honestly bittersweet 🥲 if u read this ur a real one & request or ramble abt something in my inbox bc i’m gonna be bored as hell now
#neteyam sully#neteyam sully x reader#neteyam sully x you#neteyam sully x na’vi reader#neteyam sully x y/n#neteyam sully x omaticaya!reader#neteyam sully x human reader#neteyam sully x human!reader#neteyam#neteyam x reader#neteyam x you#neteyam x na'vi!reader#neteyam x y/n#neteyam x omaticaya!reader#neteyam x human reader#neteyam x human!reader#avatar twow#avatar#avatar x reader#avatar x y/n#avatar x you#neteyam smut#neteyam sully smut#neteyam sully fluff#i see you series
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The Live-Action Sukka Manifesto that I Just Couldn't Keep in My Head
So I've been marinating in my live-action Sukka thoughts for the past three days, and when someone sent me an anon asking if I had any thoughts about the changes, at first I went, "DO I EVER?!" and proceeded to dump my entire brain on the page.
But then I worried maybe the anon wouldn't want to see my entire brain and figured I'd make my own post with my Many, Many Thoughts, and reel it in a bit when I answer the ask. And then link here if they're interested in the dissertation.
I'll put all the excessive details and spoilery stuff under a cut, but I'll start by saying, I didn't hate it! And I was afraid that I would.
There were things that I was bummed or had mixed feelings about, but there was also a lot that I genuinely enjoyed. All the Sukka interactions were cute and still had some decent character development, and I had fun with the episode overall (I've watched it thrice mind you, and definitely have not given the rest of the series that kind of attention). And I didn't necessarily dislike the differences from the original; I think I've just taken more of a "that was an interesting interpretation" approach.
But I better start that cut now, because I'm about to go on and on about this. I'd love to know what others think, though!! Even if the opinions aren't the same as mine! Please feel free to comment, reblog, shoot me an ask. If nothing else, I'm excited that the LA has gotten people talking about ATLA again.
So, I want to start with Suki’s characterization, which overall I found to be delightful, even if it was a bit of a watered-down version of her animated self.
In the original show, Suki is confident, sassy, and doesn’t take shit from anybody. She’s proud to the point of almost being arrogant, and even a little mean. What we get in the LA is someone who’s still confident in terms of her status and her skills, and still proud of her heritage and her role in her community, but with significantly less sass. And while LA Suki still seems like someone who wouldn’t take anyone’s shit, we don’t actually see LA Suki deal with that much shit from anyone (because Sokka isn’t really giving her any).
There is one moment in the show where her interaction with Sokka is a little contentious, which is when he tries to relate to her as a fellow guardian of his people. I think Suki’s question to Sokka about how is he protecting his village if he’s not there is meant to be a challenge to his swagger. However, the line is delivered with a softness that makes it seem as though Suki is, at least in part, genuinely curious. (This curiosity makes even more sense when we consider the fact that Suki’s eventually going to leave Kyoshi Island so she and her Warriors can take part in the war effort, and that she will have to contend with the question of “how do you do that without abandoning your people?” when coming to that decision. The LA lays a lot more of this groundwork than the animated show did: Suki outwardly expressing her desire to see the world, her mother’s secretive looks every time Suki gazes longingly at Sokka the possibilities…)
Compare these two moments, for example. These are both scenes where Suki expresses disbelief at Sokka's claims about his warrior-hood. But in the LA, Suki speaks rather quietly and mildly, in contrast to the brash sarcasm of her animated counterpart. LA Suki is also tilting her head down and away, looking at Sokka indirectly. OG Suki is leaning in close, getting in his face, smirking derisively with her hands on her hips.
I think there’s something to be said about the LA in general smoothing away certain personality traits that could be seen as negatives but that are actually strengths that are so narratively well-developed they occasionally show up as flaws (for instance, Katara’s fury, or lack thereof). Animated Suki is prideful and stubborn; she berates Sokka until he gives her sad puppy-dog eyes and has zero hesitation about making an example of him in front of her whole class. It’s a little ruthless, but these traits are also 1) what gets through Sokka’s thick skull (he, too, is prideful and stubborn), and 2) what makes her such a dedicated ambassador of Kyoshi and such a strong leader of the island’s Warriors at such a young age. I feel like the LA writers were afraid of making any of the protagonists seem too abrasive—everyone in the LA has had their edges sanded down, including Zuko, including Aang—and in general this tends to lead to less realistic representations of humanity and conflict, less satisfying character development arcs, and fewer opportunities for reflection and learning.
That being said! I went into watching the LA with negative expectations about what we would see in terms of character development, and thus was pleasantly surprised.
The LA removed the need for Suki to be as ruthlessly stubborn as she is in the animated show because LA Sokka’s skull is not so thick (and I'll get into that a bit more later). So what we get instead is a sheltered Suki with a helicopter mom who is so hilariously awkward that she has no idea how to interact with other humans. And, to be honest, I enjoyed this version of her so much that I even thought to myself, “I wish I’d thought of that!”
Suki is a straight-up weirdo in the LA and I love that for her. The way she puts Sokka in a chokehold and then looks at him after she sets him free like, “That was good flirting, yes? Would you like to be my boyfriend now?” And then her disappointment when Sokka walks away as if she’s thinking, “Why didn’t that go well, I thought boys loved getting put in chokeholds?” She is so precious, I just want to put her in my pocket. And this characterization might even be more broadly relatable than a super-confident Suki brimming with sass. Who among us hasn’t made a complete fool of ourselves in front of a crush by coming on way too strong and having no idea how to flirt? I mean…real.
And because Sokka is also mostly just making a fool of himself trying to impress a pretty and talented peer (instead of covering up his insecurities by wrapping himself in misogyny) this leaves room for the two of them to be attracted to each other right off the bat and for their interactions to be more overtly romantic throughout the entire episode. Which, avid shipper that I am, I have to admit I have been gobbling up for the past three days straight. This episode was an IV drip of romantic tropes hooked straight to every Sukka shipper’s veins.
Shy glances from across the room? Check.
Walking in on the other person half-naked? Check. (Y’all, Suki looks Sokka up and down for a FULL TWENTY SECONDS yes I timed it from the moment she appears in the background, yes you should count it to see how long that really is. Talk about awkward.)
Tripping so they end up falling into each other’s arms? Check.
Wide-eyed shock that turns into surprise thirst after being pinned to the ground? Check.
Shooting each other satisfied smirks as they kick ass side-by-side? Check.
Jumping in front of literal fire for each other? Check and check!
Like, I could live off this for the rest of the year.
But look, there’s a lot that I love about the way Sokka and Suki’s relationship is portrayed in this episode besides those romantically indulgent tension-creating moments, and it has to do with Suki’s admiration and validation of Sokka.
Suki really looked at this boy with his mouth stuffed half-full of steamed bun and went, “Must have.”
With the removal of overt sexism from this episode (for better or worse), the story focused much more heavily on Sokka’s development as a leader. He still has that sort of posturing display of self-confidence that comes from inexperience and trying too hard to prove oneself (“Ferociously…deadly tiger whales…”), and while at first Suki seems put off by this and his attempts to liken himself to her (“I’m not just a warrior, I’m a Kyoshi warrior”) it doesn’t take her long to decide (*cough*after seeing him shirtless*cough*) that she doesn’t actually mind this behavior (and in fact maybe she kind of likes it because maybe it means he likes her and maybe it means she can show him how much she likes him by slicing the tops off all those melons with her fan). She seems genuinely interested in his boomerang and impressed that he hunts, and then later, she immediately takes interest in training him in the Kyoshi Warrior style.
After they spar, she casually refers back to the fact that he’s his village’s protector, and this time, she does it without the disbelief and defensiveness. Because he’s finally stopped posturing. He opened himself up and gave himself over to Suki’s expertise, and in that way he proved that he has the will and desire—the heart—of a warrior. And Suki tells him so while touching him gently and gazing at him longingly in the soft golden glow of the late-afternoon sun. And as a die-hard Sokka stan, I love seeing him loved and appreciated like this. Adamantly. Ardently. The Sokka cheerleader in my head is going wild. “YEESSSS!! Our boy deserves this!!” Because we know that, in the animated show, he goes through a lot more struggle and self-doubt before he receives this kind of external validation. And while we also know that this makes for an incredibly satisfying growth arc, I gotta admit that it’s a fun bit of indulgence to watch Suki talk Sokka up directly to his face and then want to kiss him really bad. Y’know. As a treat.
That said, I'm very attached to and appreciative of the way their relationship is framed in the animated series. I love that their respect and affection for each other grows even after the disaster that is their first few interactions. In the LA, they are drawn to each other immediately, and the only barrier seems to be a bit of awkward stepping-in-it-ness. In the original, they have legitimate conflict, and they both have to give a little—Sokka becomes more humble, Suki becomes more tender—before they get to that point of potential romantic interest. And I think it says a lot about Sokka’s character and his desire to learn and grow that he is willing to humble himself in front of someone who, as far as he’s seen, has very little regard for him (slash has a good deal of animosity towards him). Giving himself over to Suki’s expertise costs him more in the animated show. But once he does, he and Suki learn and grow together. He shows Suki who he really is, shows her how dedicated and determined (and fun and a quick learner) he is, to the point that, by the end of the episode, she can allow herself to be vulnerable with him. And she does validate him in the original Kyoshi Warriors episode, just less directly than the LA. Her kiss on his cheek and “...but I’m a girl, too” is about forgiveness and acceptance and acknowledgement and respect, as much as or even more than it is about affection. There’s a little bit of romance, too, but it’s just little baby seeds of it, and it feels very natural to let those seeds germinate over time until we see Suki again later in the series.
Which brings me to the live-action kiss.
I’ll be honest, I was a little on the fence about the kiss. I want Sokka and Suki to kiss as much as possible in every conceivable universe. So there’s a part of me that was banging on the table and whistling with obscene joy. But the other part of me thought it was too much too soon. However, my hesitance pre-supposes some things about the second season (not least of which that there will be one), namely that it will handle the reunion with Suki and crossing the Serpent’s Pass anything like how it was done in the original. (Of course, one thing we now know for certain can't happen in a hypothetical LA season 2 is Suki pranking Sokka at the ferry station because he doesn't recognize her without her makeup. Do I love the expression on LA Sokka's face the first time he sees Suki's? Yes. Am I sad that this completely ruins their whole "You don't remember me? Maybe you'll remember this!" game? Also yes. But truthfully, I don't know if LA Suki would've been up to the prank, anyway. Not sassy enough. ;))
The Serpent’s Pass is one of my favorite episodes of all time, and that moment on the bluffs when Sokka and Suki are talking around Sokka’s loss, with the moon shining down on them all the while, and they almost kiss with the moon hanging between them in the background, and then Sokka pulls away without any other explanation besides, “I can’t”? That scene is so absurdly powerful and beautiful and an amazing moment of character development for them both, and I feel like it loses a lot of impact if they’ve already made out once. The fact that they kiss for the first time after that moonlit moment, when Sokka realizes that Suki doesn’t need protecting the way he thought she did, and in fact she was there to protect him, and he can finally just let go of this burden that he’s been carrying with him since Suki first mentioned she was joining them (slash since his dad put him in charge of an entire village at 13), and then and only then can he open his heart to what he feels for Suki, and in fact opens it so wide that he just cannot help but jam his mouth onto hers before she’s even finished talking…? I mean. C’mon. That’s poetry. But, again…loses impact if they’ve already had a first kiss.
But who knows what, if anything, they’ll actually do with that storyline. So for now, I’ll just enjoy my live-action Sukka kiss because, honestly, dream come true.
Or almost a dream come true. Because there's a huge camelephant in the room that I haven't addressed yet, isn't there? The lack of Sokka in the Kyoshi Warrior uniform...
And I don’t think we can talk about the omission of Sokka’s Kyoshi Warrior uniform without talking about the omission of Sokka’s sexism. Because if Sokka isn’t sexist, then why do you have to put him in the dress and makeup of traditionally female warriors to make a point about how women are strong and capable, too? So here’s what I’ll say about that (and I know there’s a lot that people have said already, so I’ll try not to belabor the point.) I don’t think leaving out Sokka’s sexism was necessarily a detriment to his character arc. I do think, however, that leaving out Sokka’s sexism was a detriment to the message the show was trying to convey about sexism.
Now, in the Northern Water Tribe episodes, the LA still gives us a message about fighting against the kind of systemic, institutionalized sexism that you might not be surprised to encounter within a very old-fashioned society or from a very old-fashioned gray-haired man. But what about the off-the-cuff, everyday kind of sexism that you might experience from an otherwise good person who is close to you? A person who loves you and would do anything for you but who gets carried away teasing you about “girly” things because of intrinsically-held biases that they’re not even that conscious of having?
I think it’s important and meaningful for male and female audiences alike, and everyone in between, to see these different forms of sexism and misogyny—to see them, to recognize those behaviors in others and in ourselves, to be able to name them, and to have examples of fighting against them. We see the former kind—institutionalized, systemic—in Pakku. And we did see the latter kind—familiar, personal—in Sokka. And now that’s lost.
Not only that, but there’s the form of sexism that says boys aren’t allowed to do feminine things lest they relinquish their maleness. And in the animated show, we got to see Sokka combating this form of sexism, too. Not only does Suki show him that girls can be fierce warriors as well as boys, but he learns that wearing makeup and a dress does not make him any less of a young man.
So, yes, I think the lack of Sokka in Kyoshi Warrior garb was a missed opportunity. And not just because Sokka looked really good in uniform and we all should have had the chance to see that, including and especially Suki.
Alright, this is more than long enough, so I'll leave off with a moment from the LA that gave me great pleasure.
I needed this moment, y'all. And I was so afraid it wouldn't happen. I needed Sokka being protective, I needed him using his newfound Kyoshi Warrior skills to fight, and I needed him jumping in front of fire for the girl who'd taught him. If we couldn't have Sokka in the Kyoshi Warrior uniform, at least we had this.
#natla#natla spoilers#sukka#live action atla#netflix atla#spoilers#sokka x suki#suki x sokka#gifs#my gifs#sukka gifs#meta#sukka meta#analysis
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Stalker dream is making my brain go brrrr
His stalker is leaving Hob all kinds of nice presents but one day Hob is gushing and blushing about the flowers left at his door and the little poem that went with them and one of his coworkers saunters over and claims credit!?
Hob never paid much attention to Cori and he gives him the creeps (which is saying something considering Hob is literally smitten with his stalker) but he decides to give him a chance. Even if he is a little disappointed to figure out his stalker is Cori.
Cori thinks he has the perfect way to get Hob into bed. Of course he didn’t account for Hob’s actual stalker, Dream, getting wind that Cori has not only stolen credit for all his gifts but that he’s using it to take his darling on a date…
OHOHO an excellent twist in the stalker au.
Cori is so pleased with his plan because he's been trying to fuck Hob for aaaaages (Hob is a slut and a freak, lbr he's very much Cori’s type). He's planning to just take the guy out for a meal and then get him into bed and since the stalker has already done all the hard work for him, he won't even have to put too much effort in. Hell yeah.
Unfortunately. Dream is not impressed. He seethes as he watches Hob getting ready for his date, and he decides that he just can't let it go ahead. And so, he puts a series of emergency measures into motion.
First: a bouquet of flowers is express delivered to Hob, with a note outlining Cori’s scam and instructing Hob not to go with him.
Second: a car draws up outside Cori’s apartment, into which he is unceremoniously bundled and driven away.
Third: a beautifully prepared takeaway meal is delivered to Hob’s home at dinnertime (to make up for the lack of dinner date). It's very expensive and very much to Hob’s personal tastes.
Fourth: Cori is dumped, 3 hours later, by the side of a road in the middle of bumfuck nowhere. He has no idea who kidnapped him or why. Then he remembers Hob’s stalker.
At work the next day Cori avoids Hob like he's got the plague. Hob is relieved to know that his stalker is still a mystery man... and maybe he rewards Dream by undressing with the blinds up. Just to say thank you <3
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Renatus Revol Headcanon Dump Part 1
Woo wooo!! Time for Renatus headcanons! He’s not just a simple delinquent and I intend to convince y’all on why :3c. This will have manga spoilers! Gif credit to @fallinblossoms
————
Renatus Revol
Height: 5’10/180cm
Age: 26
Birthdate: November 1st
Sign: Scorpio
Gender: Cisgender
Pronouns: He/Him
Sexuality: Bisexual
• While Renatus fits into the category of a delinquent brute with how lackadaisical and extreme he can be in terms of delivering punishment. He’s actually quite amicable like Ryoh and Kaldo. He’s just incredibly tired 24/7 due to his role and hasn’t gotten proper sleep in years(except for holidays, which he yearns for every day).
• Has developed the ability to sleep standing upright.
• His favorite food is fast food because it’s the only thing that’s usually available super late at night to eat. My man can NOT cook.
• Conversely his favorite drink is cheap beer because, once again, of how easily accessible it is during late hours.
• He enjoys reading ghost stories because it helps keep him up at night.
• Compared to the others who at least have decent homes or lavish spaces, Renatus lives in a cheap apartment. He still has things in boxes because he’s never had time to go home and truly unpack anything. The first thing one sees when entering his place is a single mattress on the floor, stacks of magazines and books, dirty containers of fast food and empty bottles. Truly a Male Living Space™️.
• Is actually quite the academic, although his memory isn’t what it used to be.
• And speaking of his memory issues. While I am inclined to believe that sleep may be a factor in it, I am also inclined to believe his immortality also plays a role in it.
• While he can regenerate at incredible speeds, it’s not entirely perfect. A crick in the neck? Simple, he just breaks his neck so the bones can set properly again. Back problems? Just break his back, no biggie. After his fight with Doom, his regeneration couldn’t keep up and he lost consciousness. And the healing process was not completely perfect when he came to(huge time shenanigans and mega manga spoilers aside). To summarize, he ended up with brain damage.
• People often think he’s forgetful because he’s just tired or lazy and doesn’t care enough to remember properly. While that’s *partially* true, it’s also because he has yet to really fully grasp how bad it really is. And he’s certainly not being careful with himself either. He’s always had memory issues but his lack of self preservation only exacerbated the problem.
• While he recalls that he gave up his mortality in order to save a girl he loved, he can’t recall if he did in fact save her. Nor even remember her name, or what she looked liked. He doesn’t think on it much in recent times, save for this weird funny feeling he gets in his chest whenever he traces his only scar.
• Renatus’ coworkers have yet to notice how bad his memory has gotten, Agito however has been assisting him in little ways. Such as leaving behind notes and helping him grab lunch and remind him of important events or work related things. He hasn’t noticed the changes fully.
• In terms of closeness with the other Divine Visionaries. He is closest with Agito, amicable with Tsurara, Ryoh and Rayne. Neutral with Orter. And on negative terms with Kaldo and Sophina. He enjoys teasing Sophina the most due to her strict school president like attitude.
• Does not remember Nerey. At all. Repeatedly even after Nerey has introduced himself several times. It’s unclear on whether or not he’s doing this as a bit or because Nerey’s genuinely not interesting enough to be remembered by Renatus.
#renatus revol#mashle magic and muscles#mashle headcanons#mashle#agito tyrone#sophina biblia#kaldo gehenna#ryoh grantz#orter madl#rayne ames#tsurara halestone#hits you with my surprise angst beam#mashle manga spoilers#Mashle gives me crumbs of information that I immediately devour and look into more#nerey shawn
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Everyone: "Man, how does Van Helsing know so much about Dracula and vampires?? Must be a personal connection between him and the Count."
Me: *pulling my hair out trying to rewrite the September 30 meeting scene* "IF YOU ACTUALLY FUCKING READ HIS MONOLOGUE TWENTY TIMES OVER YOU WOULD KNOW HE KNEW NONE OF THIS INFORMATION PRIOR TO THE STORY."
Maybe not none. But. Let me just. Most of the shit he says is filler. "Let me tell you, it's gonna be fucking spooky" is what he says like fifty times over in twenty words or more each time.
"Alas! Had I known at the first what now I know—nay, had I even guess at him—one so precious life had been spared to many of us who did love her."
Van Helsing says that if he knew all the info he's about to dump on us about vampires, they could have saved Lucy. Meaning he didn't know jack shit. He most certainly didn't know who Dracula was.
"Even friend Jonathan, who lived with him for weeks, did never see him to eat, never! He throws no shadow; he make in the mirror no reflect, as again Jonathan observe. He has the strength of many of his hand—witness again Jonathan when he shut the door against the wolfs, and when he help him from the diligence too. He can transform himself to wolf, as we gather from the ship arrival in Whitby, when he tear open the dog; he can be as bat, as Madam Mina saw him on the window at Whitby, and as friend John saw him fly from this so near house, and as my friend Quincey saw him at the window of Miss Lucy. He can come in mist which he create—that noble ship's captain proved him of this; but, from what we know, the distance he can make this mist is limited, and it can only be round himself. He come on moonlight rays as elemental dust—as again Jonathan saw those sisters in the castle of Dracula. He become so small—we ourselves saw Miss Lucy, ere she was at peace, slip through a hairbreadth space at the tomb door."
Then finally he starts saying things that he may have already known since he cites no specific examples: night vision, requiring invitation, no power in the daytime, the sunrise and sunset bit, etc.. He does cite an example of what "unhallowed ground" vampires can enter uninvited, but that's just to illustrate his point. But then he talks about his friend Arminius.
"I have asked my friend Arminius, of Buda-Pesth University, to make his record; and, from all the means that are, he tell me of what he has been. He must, indeed, have been that Voivode Dracula who won his name against the Turk, over the great river on the very frontier of Turkey-land. If it be so, then was he no common man; for in that time, and for centuries after, he was spoken of as the cleverest and the most cunning, as well as the bravest of the sons of the 'land beyond the forest.' That mighty brain and that iron resolution went with him to his grave, and are even now arrayed against us. The Draculas were, says Arminius, a great and noble race, though now and again were scions who were held by their coevals to have had dealings with the Evil One. They learned his secrets in the Scholomance, amongst the mountains over Lake Hermanstadt, where the devil claims the tenth scholar as his due. In the records are such words as 'stregoica'—witch, 'ordog,' and 'pokol'—Satan and hell; and in one manuscript this very Dracula is spoken of as 'wampyr,' which we all understand too well."
Van Helsing is really just like me for real oh my god. He sounds like me after just having gone on a Wikipedia binge. He knew absolutely nothing about Dracula before, and he really wants to capitalize on all the new shit he just learned.
"We know from the inquiry of Jonathan that from the castle to Whitby came fifty boxes of earth, all of which were delivered at Carfax; we also know that at least some of these boxes have been removed. It seems to me, that our first step should be to ascertain whether all the rest remain in the house beyond that wall where we look to-day; or whether any more have been removed. If the latter, we must trace——"
*gunshots* Anyway.
More fucking fuel for the stop fucking painting him and Dracula as mortal enemies fire. He's literally just an old man who reads a lot, he's not a badass vampire hunter, Dracula didn't kill his gf or some shit, and he's probably never successfully dealt with a vampire before. Also, more ammo for my if you deny Jonathan's importance to the story one more time-- gun.
#picturing Jonathan trying to dissociate during Van Helsing's monologue and jumping each time VH says his name#Jonathan: yeayeayea we know we all know my trauma so intimately can we not#VH: of course. one more thing--#dracula#dracula daily#rant???#who knows#abraham van helsing#van helsing#also just??#VH: Dracula is super smart he's a tactician-- he's also a baby with a widdle baby brain bc only the mentally handicapped commit crimes#which one is it abe
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Coffee can't Keep you Awake Forever
RK800 Connor x F! Reader
Summary: You need some sleep, and Connor thinks he can provide just that.
A/n: Yes, I know I don't even have Detroit:become human listed under the fandoms I write for BUT this idea has been plauging my mind for DAYS.
˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙
"Would You like anything to drink?" Hanks voice sounds from the kitchen, "I've got booze."
Through your haze, you find your voice to respond, "No thank you, But thanks for the offer."
Hank comes back into the living room and sits in a lone arm-chair with his bottle. "Suit yourself."
You knew you couldn't handle any alcohol right now. Your brain was nearly haywire with exhaustion and alcohol would not do it justice.
A normal person would say "then sleep if you are tired." If only it were that easy. While you begged for sleep in all waking parts of the world, your brain had other plans. It refused to let you stop working for more than a few hours.
Truthfully, the only thing keeping you awake was a coffee every 2 hours and the pile of work that just kept adding to your mental shelves. That was to blame with how hectic the case had gotten recently. People turning up murdered by their rogue androids left and right had you drowning in paperwork.
So, yes, a break would be wonderful.
Getting up for another coffee, you trudged into the kitchen, feet heavy and limbs slow.
The coffee machine rumbled to life as you put your cup under the dispenser, a blue screen illuminating your face in the dim lighting of the room, showcasing an excessive amount of options to customize your drink.
Selecting the options that seemed most appealing to your tired eyes, the coffee machine got to work, pouring the contents of your liquid into the white mug you'd placed under it.
"You can't function on coffee forever. The human body needs sleep."
You jumped at the sound of a voice that had materialized from nearly thin air, "Jesus Christ! Connor! Don't do that!"
"I'm sorry if I alarmed you." He apologizes.
Waving a hand at the android you respond, "No, no. You're fine. I didn't hear you. That's all"
"I have noticed signs of sleep deprivation, recently. Bags beneath the eyes, Excessive yawning, little moments where you–"
You cut him off, "I'm not sleep deprived. I'm fine. Just stressed that's all."
Connor is quiet, his eyes staring at your back when you turn back to your newly delivered coffee. He contemplates, his programming running diagnostics upon diagnostics on the situation. Does he question if you are okay? Does he ask what's stressing you? Or does he just leave it alone?
He decides with the option that feels most right to him, "What is on your mind, lieutenant?"
You sigh and pinch the bridge of your nose. Something of a stress reliever. "The cases." Pausing, you continue, "I'm puzzled. Can't think of any logical reasons as to why this is happening."
While there are certainly hypothesis circulating within your posse of 3, none make proper sense. Androids were said to be mindless machines that didn't have the ability to decide for themselves, rather for the greater good of the whole. Yet, why were they each doing exactly what they were programmed not to do?
None of it made sense.
"Perhaps it would start making sense if you allowed yourself to get some sleep." He offered.
"I can't. That's the problem." Sipping the coffee in your hands to hopefully deter the fatigue overpowering you, screaming at your muscles and brain to stop working.
"I would like to help but I'm not certain if my services will be any use. I recommend staying off the caffeine for the time being. It will help coax your body into sleep sooner or later."
And with that, Connor was gone from the kitchen, leaving you alone with your drink.
With an angered and exasperated sigh, you dumped the remaining coffee in your mug down Hank's sink.
–
Sitting on the couch next to Connor, you began to regret not drinking that coffee. Your mind was in shambles, hundreds of things that could explain your cases involving deviants were swirling like fog, clouding your senses. Yet, you felt as if you were on the verge of discovering something big. Oh how you should have drank thar coffee! It was getting impossible to hold your eyes open any longer, each minute that ticked by adding to your exhaustion.
Hank stood up abruptly, still in his drunken stupor, and stumbled into his room, closing the door loudly behind him. That left you and Connor, side by side, on the couch with some movie going on in the background.
Connor had been focused (as much as an android could) on the movie for the duration of the time you'd come back. He wasn't interested in the show going on infront of his eyes, as an android he didn't process any particular attachment to the characters shown on TV nor feel any explicit interest in the plot point the two were reaching. It simply wasn't in his program to do so.
He could sense a pressure on his shoulder, and he cast a glance down to your sleeping form.
There, passed out from fatigue, with your head delicately placed upon Connor's shoulder, you fell asleep.
The android didn't mind. As long as you got the rest you deserved. As much as he knew you didn't want to hear it, nor talk about such a subject, he could see the weariness you carried over the past few days. Something in his programming told him it had something to do with the stress induced by the most recent homicide.
But yet, deep, buried beneath all his programming, he felt something arise within him. It made his LED turn yellow in deep thought.
But those were things he would have to figure out later, as he didn't plan on asking or moving from this position unless you did first. He wouldn't dare deprive you of your much needed sleep. Besides, you looked…
dare Connor say, cute.
#connor x reader#dbh connor#dbh rk800#connor rk800#detroit connor#hank anderson#lt. hank Anderson#female reader#x reader#detroit: become human
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THE MOTHMAN PROPHECIES (2002)
Richard Gere is a “star reporter” at the “Washington Post.” He and his wife, Debra Messing, go to buy a house, but on the way back to their present, crappy, house, Debra Messing sees something strange in the window. She is spooked! The car spins out of control and she bonks her head on the window. Now, you might think that would kill her, but it doesn’t. Instead, at the hospital doctors discover that she has a glioblastoma (a brain cancer), and then she dies a few days later. (It seems like a few days.)
Two years later, Richard Gere is still sad, naturlich. He drives to Richmond to interview the governor of Virginia, but he enters a fugue state! His car dies on the side of the road, and he walks to a nearby house, where a guy holds him at gunpoint because, the guy says, Richard Gere has been knocking on his door at 0230 for the past two days. Local sheriff Laura Linney deescalates the situation (which was weird, because in real life she would have just shot someone) and drops Richerd Gere off at a motel. Richard Gere discovers that he is in Point Pleasant, West Virginia, which is way off his intended destination of Richmond. He decides to stay in town to investigate all the weirdness occurring. The rest of the movie isn’t so much a plot as a bunch of interrelated things just happening:
Richard Gere and Laura Linney drive around and talk to people describing their experiences with the Mothman, an alien or cryptid with red eyes and moth-like characteristics.
Richard Gere hangs out with the guy who held him at gunpoint, named Gordon. Gordon begins to have dreams predicting upcoming disasters. He meets a dude named Indrid Cold. He eventually sits in the cold and dies of exposure, but while he’s supposed to be dead he calls Richard Gere!
In one of the better sequences, Gordon calls Richard Gere . Gordo says that he has Indrid Cold with him, and he wants to talk to Richard Gere. A weird voice tells Richard Gere what he’s doing, what he’s holding, the lines from a book he cannot see. “I want to meet you,” Richard Gere says. Indrid Cold says, “You already have, [Richard Gere]. I have seen you afraid. You’re frightened right now, aren’t you?” Meanwhile, Laura Linney is racing over there, but when she arrives Gordon is fine and Indrid Cold is not there.
Richard Gere goes to visit a paranormal investigator (some dude who wrote a book), twice. The man lore-dumps about moth-people, but this is mostly extraneous. He does deliver a decent metaphor, that the Mothman (or moth-people) aren’t necessarily more advanced or smarter than us; they’re maybe like people in a tall building, who can see just a bit farther down the road.
Richard Gere was told to expect a disaster on the Ohio River. He thinks that this will involve the chemical plant, and he freaks out on the governor of Virginia, who is coming to visit the plant! Nothing happens.
Things escalate for Richard Gere as his dead wife, Debra Messing, appears. He gets a letter to await her call at noon on Friday at his house in DC. He does so, but Laura Linney calls him instead! She tells him that his wife is dead. She invites him to Christmas dinner. Their conversation ends, and the phone rings again! Richard Gere does not answer and heads back to West Virginia to spend Christmas with Laura Linney.
Finally, in a good set piece, Richard Gere arrives at the Silver Bridge outside Point Pleasant. There is a traffic jam. Richard Gere realizes that this is the disaster on the Ohio River, and we have a cool scene where our view shifts from the factory to the bridge. It collapses and a bunch of cars fall into the river, including Laura Linney’s sheriff truck. Richard Gere jumps into the water to save her. They muse over a vision she talked about earlier.
This was…middling to fine. There are some nice atmospheric moments, such as the phone call and a few other scenes where people encounter the Mothman or Indrid Cold. We also have lots of red lights like eyes and moth-related shapes as transitions, but this is long, a full two hours, and there’s not enough interesting material to justify the length. The plot is meandering and lacks focus. Recommended for fans of Richard Gere or the Mothman.
#the mothman prophecies#mothman prophecies#horror movie#movie review#2002#richard gere#debra messing#the mothman#mothman#cryptids#meh#ok
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I have a lot of thoughts about Red, White & Royal Blue (both the book and the movie). If you manage to read through the whole thing, I would love to hear your thoughts and feelings! Please feel free to interact. If you don't feel like reading through the brain dump of a random girl from nowhere, here's a summary: movie was great, but the book remains undefeated, plus a pathetic attempt at rallying for a petition to make this into a series.
I first read the book in january 2023 (I was very late to booktok I'm sorry) and have been obsessed since then. I have re-read it multiple times and have pages of annotations in my pdf copy. as a huge literature nerd, thematic expressions, plot and character development mean so much to me. While it's not a crime to interpret this book as an idealistic and purely romantic piece of fiction, I think there is plenty to value in the way family, politics and self-discovery is illustrated in the novel.
To me, it's really the intricacies that give so much to life to many scenes and characters. June standing up for Alex even when he never outright asked for it, staying in the white house for him instead of pursuing her own dreams. June feeling trapped and chained down being born into a life of politics, while Alex, entirely optimistic and determined, revels in it. Nora being introduced as a tech junkie who gives it to him straight while June is the more soft-spoken one, but Nora being the one to deliver the most important cold hard truths that wake Alex up multiple times throughout the book. How Alex is who is because he has these 2 girls who provide him with 2 different support systems - June who understands the struggles of the public eye, the divorce of his parents, being biracial, and Nora who understands the realm of queerness and shares his passion in politics. Rafael Luna's story arc and the triple-crossing. How Alex looked up to him so fervently, how Luna has his own dark past that made him who is today.
and Henry... (cue BIG DREAMY SIGH) The harrowing reality that someone so special not only to him but both Bea and his mom as well left all of them so bereaved that his mom completely shut off and Bea turned to a life of drugs. His father who symbolised everything that the crown frowned upon, and stole his mother's royal-blooded heart anyways. How Henry was probably brought up to be fearless and strong just like his parents but his entire family was snatched from him at such a young age that it left him stranded and lost, leaving him no choice but to follow the path of royal traditions, being pushed and shoved around however they deemed fit. and when he did get older and privy to his sexuality, it was too late to turn back and stand his ground to say "No, I don't want this life." The pills, the insomnia, the piece of himself that's been lost forever, that nothing and nobody will ever be able to replace. Percy being his only escape from the royal lifestyle, how he was willing to share a part of his life's works for Henry to experience outside his mundane royal duties, something Henry chooses to do instead of being forced to. Bea stepping up after realising how she needs to do better not only for herself but for her brother as well, that all they have is each other and she needs to fight for them. Bea being the protective sister who explains to Alex how Henry misses his dad, and that he needs to be comfortable with the fact that there will always be a part of Henry that Alex might never be able to reach. Henry's mom stepping up in the end, not willing to lose her son the way she lost her husband, how Henry is the closest living reminder to the love of her life, born with his heart on his sleeve.
Their emails. Henry and his beautiful monologues depicting grief and love. How he has never bared his heart out like that to anyone, yet when he finally found the right person, everything was leaked to the entire world. The multiple references to historical figureheads and literature that actually give "History, huh? Bet we could make some" all it's meaning.
The tension in the confrontation with the queen. The nervous wreck that election night put me in. The political journey of this book further helped to solidify the idealistic, fairytale-like nature of the novel and its ending. It left me with such an overwhelming sense of comfort, like coming back to my childhood home (quite literally in Alex's case).
Ellen and Zahra's relationship, Oscar and Luna's relationship, Oscar saying Ellen will always be the love of his life... the list is literally endless. I could go on forever. I laughed, I cried, I screamed into my pillow, I stared out my window wistfully, wondering how people can feel so much so deeply.
All these details that bring so much colour and dimension to the plot convinced me that it would be a crime not to make a live action of this book. But that is not to say that the movie was bad. I had already prepared myself beforehand to handle the disappointment of not getting all 500 pages verbatim, and I understand the directional choices made to focus solely on Alex and Henry's relationship, not having the luxury of time. Viewing the movie as something separate from the book, it was beautifully executed and I have already watched it 3 times now.
But... just to put it out there...
Imagine a live action with everything I mentioned above, though. Wouldn't it be lovely to go on all these journeys with all these people together with Alex and Henry? And it's not something completely impossible is it? I think even an animated series would be sublime but is it really too much to ask for the novel to be made into a proper series? I feel like Casey has given us such a wholesome and never-seen-before story that deserves every nook and cranny to be explored and made into film. We have had so many versions of Little Women and Pride & Prejudice, so I'm holding out hope that a rwrb series is not an impossible feat. Taylor and Nick will always be Alex and Henry in my head, but that's something I'm personally willing to trade for a longer series made with even more people and further explorations that the movie couldn't afford to make.
My sister asked me last month why I kept losing my marbles everytime a new photo or clip dropped. Said that "it's just a random book, get over it". I think this book means a lot to many different people from different walks of life. Minority race, being biracial, coming to terms with bisexuality, dealing with divorce, dealing with the public eye, being born into a family that you don't entirely identify with, losing a loved one, dealing with mental illnesses, dealing with grief, standing up to authority, being outed, letting yourself love and be loved. This book encapsulates such a vast array of experiences and emotions that I'm confident that I'm not the only one who feels this strongly about "just a random book".
Casey really did make history, didn't they?
#alex claremont diaz#firstprince#red white and royal blue#rwrb#prince henry fox mountchristen windsor#alexhenry#prince henry rwrb#rwrb movie#nora holleran#zahra bankston#casey#casey mcquiston#history huh
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Sci Fi Month : The Cold Equations
First film of Sci Fi Month this year and we are doing a Sci Fi Channel original movie ,technically my second time reviewing one on this blog if we count Dog Soldiers ,but that one was a movie bought by the channel .Now for those who arent familiar with the Sci Fi channel or Syfy as its oknown now (For the record I am one of many people who despise the name and I will stubbornly call it the Sci Fi Channel ),started as a haven for Speculative Fiction fans showcasing classic Sci Fi/Fantasy /Horror TV and movies .Nowadays it is associated with some of the most beloved SF TV like Farscape ,Stargate SG1 ,The Expanse and the reboot of Battlestar Galactica .......But its also more infamously known for its TV movies,,,,,,Most of which are bad (Also for stuff like wrestling that has nothing to do with SF but thats a whole can of worms ).Now to be fair not all the Sci Fi Channel original movies are bad some like Dog Soldiers and the Bruce Campbell directed Man With a Screaming Brain are pretty darn great .How does this film Cold Equations shake out ? Wel lets find out
In this 1996 TV Movie ,a pilot John Barton(Bill Campbell ) goes on a mission to deliver medical supplies when he finds a stowaway Lee (Poppy Montgomery ),who hitched a ride to see her brother....Unknowingly endangering the mission by doing this,and Barton is given orders from his supperiors.....Dump the girl into space
So apparently this film is based on a short story ,that has been adapted a few times (Most notably in the 1980's Twilight Zone ).....Now I am curious how a shorter run time treats this tale cause it does feel a bit stretched for 90 minutes .I do like the film though ,its basically a two person play (There are other characters,namely Daniel Roebuck as Bartons buddy but the focus are Barton and Lee ) and I gotta say Bill Campbell and Popy Montgomery give good performances ,in that they aid in the way the film tricks you.See Barton starts out cold and mission first and Lee starts off kind of obnoxious ....But as the story goes the characters shift and the actors really pull off the change.Without spoiling it......This is a tragedy ,like a gut wrenching one.This is the story about the value of life and how sometime...YOu cant save everyone
Now I wont lie,if you are inspired to watch this (You can its on youtube ),and you dont like it......I get it .Pacing is wonky ,Lee can be a bit overbearing and .....It aint an upper .But I think the two lead performances and the underlying story make it work
Hidden gem to me and an example of a good Sci Fi Channel movie
@ariel-seagull-wings @themousefromfantasyland @theancientvaleofsoulmaking @the-blue-fairie @princesssarisa @minimumheadroom @amalthea9 @angelixgutz @countesspetofi
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Chapter 4: How To Finally Get the Girl
The finale of my fic "How You Get The Girl" that I started in 2019 when I was a wee fresher in college. It is finally over. *phew* I hope this story stops haunting me now.
Read it on AO3.
...
The clock in her room read 7:39pm when Lily watched Isis disappear into the horizon, soaring higher and higher above the identical houses of Cokeworth.
She wasn't sure which part of her brain was working overtime when she thought of sending a letter through Isis. Or when she thought of the idea. She just remembers Sirius holding her by her shoulders and shaking with excitement at the idea as he exited her room and her house and disapparated from her front yard with a distinct pop.
She should have checked around if anyone saw him disappear. She should have berated him for being so careless in a muggle neighbourhood, *her* neighbourhood, as he apparated back at the same position exactly 12 minutes later with a grey owl sitting gleefully on her shoulder, playing with his black hair. But words suddenly seemed foreign to her.
Despite her newly found resolve and the shadow of a black haired boy peaking behind her shoulder, she had hesitated. Multiple times. Her quill broke twice. Isis fluttered around her room from her bed to the shelves. Sirius paced the small length of her bedroom muttering, "Good god woman, you don't have be Shakespeare."
She couldn't shake the guilt looming in her stomach, making her nauseous. *What if he truly has moved on?*
Sirius had been ecstatic, almost jumping off the walls of her bedroom as Isis flew out her window. "He's going to come as soon as he gets it, I promise."
Lily knew Isis was pretty fast, even for a magical owl. And after conveying her urgency in getting the letter delivered as soon as possible, Lily was almost sure she saw Isis' eyes become determined. She loved a challenge, that feisty little thing. Lily promised her an entire box of her favourite treats and off she flew, feathers fluttering to an inch of her face.
Her mother came in announcing dinner just 10 minutes later, asking Sirius to join them. 30 minutes and multiple pointless conversations later, she was ready to stab herself in the thigh with a fork.
"So there is actually a magical giant squid that lives in the lake at Hogwarts?" Her mother asked, absolutely aghast.
"Oh yes, my mate James and I arm wrestled one of his tentacles last year," Sirius responded as-a-matter-of-fact. Even Petunia, whose usual response to any time Hogwarts came up on the dinner table was a scowl, looked shocked.
"You what?" Her mother asked, looking at her for confirmation.
"They did," Lily told her mother nonchalantly, moving the contents of her plate from one corner to another, "Though they mostly just annoyed it. It got bored and dumped them on the shore and went back inside."
Almost an hour later, she couldn't take it anymore and went outside for fresh air. Surely Isis must have reached James by now? He was in the middle of London, not a cave up in the mountains.
It was 10pm when Sirius joined her outside on the front yard, after relaying some more Hogwarts stories to her mother.
"Maybe Isis is having a hard time finding him," He said softly, sitting down next to her on the grass. She just hummed in response, her heart hammering against her chest.
By 11pm, even Sirius seemed to have ran out of reasons. Isis should have reached James by now. Hell, she would have reached London by now if she had taken the train. And she was a witch. If only she knew where to go IN London. She could have just run around Leicester Square screaming his name like a deranged pelican.
At 11:58pm, a sudden movement caught the corner of her eye and before she knew it, a grey feathered blob landed directly in front of them. Isis looked ecstatic and proud. And as happy as Lily was to see her, her excitement lasted for 2 seconds exactly until she noticed the empty talon.
Her heart sank into her stomach. The answer was staring right in her face.
"Lily, maybe he got stuck-"
"Don't." Her voice was barely above a whisper, and her vision started to blur. Sirius wrapped an arm around her shoulder, and she hid her face in his shoulder. “Don’t."
"I'm sorry."
---
It took a very long time to convince Sirius that she was fine. Or, it took a very long time to tell a convincing lie to Sirius that she was fine. But he finally departed around 1am, with a promise to take her out for ice cream the next day to cheer her up.
She had already planned not to leave her bed for the next 3 days, to sleep as much as she could and to be awake as less as she could help it. But unfortunately, the world seemed adamant to not let her have her way, because despite her plans to be unconscious, but she was still wide awake at 2:30am.
Lily rolled over for the hundredth time, facing the pink wall of her bedroom and closed her eyes. She tried to go to her happy place, back to Hogwarts and its hallways and her friends, when a light tap sounded behind her. At first, she thought she had imagined it, the silence of the night deafening her and playing tricks on her mind. But the tap happened again, and again, and that's when her heart sank and her mind took a much darker turn.
She had heard of the rumours of muggle borns and the news of the 'disappearances', and suddenly, each name she had read in the newspapers flashed at the back of her head as she grabbed her wand, remembering every hex in the books. Tomorrow, she was sure, her name would be added to that never ending list. She slowly pulled the curtain above her desk to peak out at the offending noise.
But there, floating right outside the window in the middle of the night, was a boy holding a lit wand with a goofy grin. A grin she unfortunately knew way too well.
"POTTER!" she whispered angrily, half on instinct, but the sound wouldn't reach him. She put her wand aside and slid the window open.
"Potter! What in Merlin's pants are you doing?" she hissed, her eyes wide with disbelief.
"Can we talk?" he asked, his voice barely audible over the wind.
"You are floating outside my window," she stated, still processing the sight before her.
"Yes, I'm on my broom," he replied nonchalantly.
"You are floating outside my window on a broom," she repeated, her tone incredulous.
"Great observation skills, Evans," he remarked, a hint of a grin tugging at his lips.
"You are FLOATING outside my window IN A MUGGLE NEIGHBOURHOOD on a BROOM.”
"Oh. Yes. That. Uhh," he stuttered, looking around nervously, "Can I come in?"
"Can it not wait till tomorrow?"
"I would highly prefer today.”
"Today, right now? As opposed to today noon at Diagon Alley with butterbeer?"
"Today, right now.”
She sighed impatiently, backing up and gesturing him to come inside. While James was ambling his frame into her very small window, knocking down books and pencil stands as he came inside, alarm bells were ringing in her head.
"SHHH!" She shushed him, and he stopped for a second before continuing to get his other leg inside the window and pas her study table.
Bollocks. He was here. The reality of the situation was settling in now. What did he want to talk about? Did he want to apologise? Tell her thank you, but no thank you?
She glanced down at her worn out blue pyjama set, deciding she didn't care how she looked. Even if it wasn't, she wasn't going to change to be let down. How pathetic would that be?
"Cute room, Evans." He said once he had manoeuvred his broom inside her room and started inspecting everything.
"You better have a very good reason for this, Potter."
He just looked at her bemused, eyebrows raised, reached into his jacket and pulled out a folded piece of parchment.
"Oh, I have a very very good reason, Evans."
"Look-"
"Oh no, here is where I will talk and you will listen." That shut her up real quick.
"So, I was sitting in this quaint little restaurant in the middle of muggle London, on a date with this wonderful girl. She's pretty, funny and she loves Quidditch- and guess what?- she supports Puddlemere, I was sold by then and the date had hardly started. She's a splendid conversationalist, did you know? We didn't have any of those awful awkward silences, those are always a deal breaker for me. So we laughed all through the main course-"
"-I'm going to toss you out the window if you've come here to tell me about your new girlfriend-"
"-I swear the manager wanted to throw us out of there-"
"-You have Sirius to discuss the nitty gritties about your dates-"
"-and we were waiting for desert, when I look out the window and to my surprise, I see Isis there."
He looked right in her eyes, and Lily was sure he could see the blush colouring her cheeks despite the low light in the room. Hell, he could have spotted it from a mile away on his broom at this point.
He took a step in her direction, and she instinctively look a step back.
"Yes, Isis with a letter. She singlehandedly unleashed havoc in the restaurant, you should have been there, there was spaghetti flying around and people were slipping on spilled pasta sauce, all for a letter. Clearly, someone asked her to deliver it urgently.”
"Now, you must know how that scared the living daylights out of me, because what could be so important that couldn't till the end of the night? It's a difficult time in our world, you know," James Potter continued babbling animately, his usual self, but Lily's heart was threatening to beat out of her chest, matching James steps, as he continued to step closer to her and she continued to backtrack.
"So, we ran out the restaurant before we were arrested, though what for I still have no idea, but I must be completely pale and speaking gibberish because Emily said she couldn't understand what I said, and frankly neither could I."
"So, with trembling hands, I opened the letter, a million different worse case scenarios playing in my head, and can you guess what it said?" He asked, holding open the parchment and Lily could make out her hasty scrawl.
"Uhh.." Lily's back hit the door to her room and she realised she had nowhere to go now.
"It was from this rather infuriating bird, with bright red hair and a temper to level the entire city of London, who does not lose a single chance to wound my ego, who has spent the last 6 years hating me and my guts, and if that was not enough, for some weird reason I've fancied all that time?"
"Now, I had imagined this particular scenario many times in my head. My personal favorite ending in passionate and wild lovemaking, but never had I imagined this happening on a letter that I thought was the worst news I'll ever receive, when I was on a date with another girl I was about to ask to be my girlfriend. Now do you understand my anger?" James had closed the distance between the two, and Lily could smell broom polish on him. And his cologne. She was pointedly trying not to think about his cologne. She was sure she was hallucinating at this point.
"Well, if you put it that way.."
"..yes?" He put the parchment back into his pocket, and rested his right arm by her head, boxing her in.
"..I might have not have thought this through." She whispered, looking into his hazel eyes, forcing herself to not glance at his lips.
"Of course you didn't," He whispered back.
Lily cleared her throat and looked down, arms folding around her chest defensively. She couldn't look him in the eye while saying this. "Look, James, if you flew all the way here just to say this, you needn't have come. I got your message, loud and clear."
"Message? What message?"
"It's fine, I'm happy for you."
"Happy for me?"
"Yes, I promise I will keep my distance at Hogwarts. She need not worry, neither do you."
"You know, for a brilliant witch, you can be so dense sometimes." Lily's face contorted, taking offence, and ready to spew out some witty come back that would be weirdly accurate, but he put both his hands on either side of her face, and tilted her head up slightly, ensuring their eyes met.
"Lily, why do you think I am here?" There was a tender intensity in his hazel eyes, a silent promise.
Lily's eyes widened, one hand subconsciously coming to rest on his arm, holding it there, holding her.
"I.." She stumbled, staring into his eyes, unable to come up with any response, much less a rational explanation of his presence here.
He waited patiently for Lily to reply, his thumb softly brushing her cheeks.
"You didn't reply." She whispered finally.
"This is something I wanted to tell you in person," he said, nudging her nose with his. "I also had to escort Emily back to her place."
"Out of all the times, this was the one you chose to be a gentleman," Lily replied, raising an eyebrow.
"I'm always a gentleman," he retorted with a playful smirk.
Lily actually snorted. "SURE."
"I could always go back, you know, if I'm not wanted here. I'm sure Emily would love a good night stroll-" James teased, backing away and turning towards the window. But Lily grabbed him and pulled him towards her, his arms instinctively wrapping around her waist.
"Just shut up and kiss me," she whispered, her lips a hair's breadth from his. James grinned, his eyes sparkling with mischief and affection. He closed the gap between them, his lips brushing softly against hers at first. The gentle touch sent a shiver down Lily's spine, her heart pounding in her chest. She felt impatient, and deepened the kiss and her heart actually skipped a beat when James responded equally enthusiastically. She forgot that she was in her tiny bedroom, that she was wearing her old battered night suit, that 5 minutes ago she wasn’t sure how her last year at Hogwarts would pass.
But he was here. It felt impossible, but he was here and he was kissing her, and by Merlin, it felt more glorious than she could ever have imagined. James's hands slid up her back, pulling her closer, while Lily's fingers tangled in his hair, those black locks that she had dreamed of running her fingers through.
When they finally broke apart, both breathless, their foreheads resting against each other. Lily's cheeks were flushed, and James’s grin had softened into a tender smile.
"I’m getting this letter framed.” He murmured into her lips and Lily chuckled.
"I'm going to buy Isis the whole store."
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ever thine, ever mine, ever ours
or: signed, sealed, delivered.
gn!reader, no content warnings, a wonderful excuse for dumb cutesy fluffy stuff. an enormous round of applause for the lovely @teaseat who sent in the most MAGNIFICENT ask about this - milo and sweetheart are forever in my heart so this was perfect! and a cheeky tag for my darling @sri-rachaa , who i hear was in the market for a bit of softness in these trying times <3 title from beethoven’s letter to his immortal beloved. milo starting rumours around the DUMP offices in 900 words or less.
“Hey, Stealth. Got a minute?”
Really? Now? For goodness’ sake, he can’t keep doing this! One of these days he’s going to give you a heart attack, right here at your desk, and he’s going to have to explain to HR why one of the investigators on floor 8 has been found curled up under the table, screeching into their own hands.
“...”
It’s always when you least expect it, as well. Slid quietly amongst your case files, tucked into the top of your bag, hidden in your coat pockets - how does he do it? Aren’t you supposed to be the sneaky one? He could give the rest of the investigative department a run for their money, what with how you never manage to find them until he wants you to.
“Stealth? Are you…?”
And really, does he have to be so fucking sweet about it? It’s alw-
“Detective Greer!”
“Wh-! Uh, yes?” You look up, startled, from where your face is currently buried in your hands - it’s that telepath from a few floors down. Shit, what was their name again?
“Do you have the incident report from this afternoon? The signed one? I need it for briefing tomorrow morning.”
“Oh, yeah, it’s…” The stacks of paper littering your desk teeter ominously, case folders sliding inelegantly out of your lap as you dig out the form from where it’s wedged half-under your mousepad. “Here you go.”
“Thanks.”
They walk away, presumably heading back to the lift. All you can do is stare down at the little post-it note by your right foot, bright pink paper stuck cheerily to the front of your current case folder, and try not to look like your heart is melting into caramel.
I love you so much, sweetheart. Come home safe <3
-
The notes are nothing new. It must have started, what, maybe a few months after you started going out? You’d reached blindly into the back pocket of your bag, searching for your lanyard to swipe your ID at the door, and been met with a little green slip of paper tucked in the front of the plastic holder.
Looking good today, sweetheart :)
Stunned, you’d stared numbly at the neon green paper covering your ID picture until the poor security guard on the desk had come over to ask if you were alright - embarrassed, you’d quickly shoved the note into your pocket and jammed your ID card against the reader until it let you in, escaping upstairs before anyone could ask any more questions.
(You’d been a mess for the rest of the day, eyes glazed over and unable to take your mind off a particular shifter who’s too sweet for his own good. Thank goodness you’d only been pushing paper all day, or else the criminal scourges of Dahlia would surely have had a field day.)
(He hadn’t even had the decency to be ashamed of the effect he’d had on you, the bastard. You’d asked him about it on your next date, and all he’d done was take your hand, give you that stupidly adorable smile - you know the one - and promptly change the subject.)
Ever since then, he’s been totally shameless about it, and the worst part is that it’s the best part of your day. Halfway through the lunch break you’ve forgotten to take, a little heart-shaped sticky note announces that ‘As amazing as you are, that big investigator brain needs food, you know. Check the left compartment of your bag, under the case files :)’, and you nearly burst into tears right there at your computer. You’re forced to hastily excuse yourself to the bathroom, face getting hotter and hotter, when a folded yellow rectangle wishes you ‘Good luck for today! Love you <3’, and you swear that the only reason you got that pay rise is thanks to the orange square stuck to the front of your presentation notes that says ‘You got this, baby :)’.
It’s not every day, but to be honest, you’re not sure your heart could take it if it was. Don’t work too hard today, sweetheart. The box in your desk drawer, full of multicoloured paper, is testament to the sheer amount of breathing exercises, gulps of water, and screaming silently into your own hands that he’s caused over the years. Your cheeks burn as you think about the heart-shaped sticky note hiding in your back pocket. You can’t meet your own eyes in the mirror because ‘Debrief finishes at 6, right? I’ll come and pick you up out front - we can get whatever you like for dinner’. Rumours swirl across the office about what could possibly get the famously-serious, ever-practical investigator stealth at the desk by the window quite so giddy and lovesick, but none of them ever guess. Perhaps that’s for the best. You have a reputation to uphold, after all.
(Somewhere, on the other side of town, a shifter sits down at the kitchen table, and waits for his mate to come home. Bright yellow paper, black ink, Thinking about you <3. A stupidly adorable smile and a dreamy little sigh. Sweet and soft and totally in love.)
(You find it tucked into the front of your third case file the next day. The telepath from downstairs comes to ask about a document, and the whole wonderful ordeal starts all over again.)
this is an original work by @gingerbreadmonsters - please do not repost or misattribute
masterlist
#redacted asmr#redacted audio#redacted fluff#redacted milo#redacted sweetheart#ginger writes#gingerbreadmonsters
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Note: For this one to work as canon, Amelia's s19 timeline in Grey's - in particular her break-up with Kai - has to be shifted a few months forward, syncing up with Carina's in Station 19.
How Mad Would You Be If I Kissed You?
Grey’s Anatomy - Amelia Shepherd & Carina DeLuca
As the door fell close behind her, Amelia scanned the bar, taking in the typical dark interior and unknown faces. Not in the mood to spend her night with friends or co-workers, she'd picked a place she'd never been to; some random Irish pub, a few blocks from the hospital.
The venue was lively, though not too crowded, exactly like she preferred, and without further thinking she made her way to the bar. Yet right before she reached it, she promptly stopped in her tracks. Almost hidden in the far corner booth, she spotted someone familiar after all.
For a moment, Amelia wanted to turn around and leave as quickly as possible. The woman in question, however, was Carina DeLuca, someone she wasn't too close with, yet actually liked quite a lot. And someone who just caught her, too, which would make her look like a total ass if she wouldn't even say hi.
As she got closer, she didn't just notice that Carina was alone, but also that she looked tired — sad almost.
"Carina, hey," she greeted her gently, before nodding towards the glass of red in front of her. "Drinking away your sorrows?"
Carina answered her with nothing but a weak smile. "How 'bout you?"
"I can't," Amelia shrugged, "Recovering alcoholic."
"Right," Carina nodded slowly, and then, with her head slightly tilted, "Visiting the local watering hole might not be the most helpful then."
Her voice was warm and caring, free of judgement, which made Amelia smile at her, instead of defensively snap.
"Who says I need help?"
This time Carina was the one to shrug. "Your eyes do. They look... different."
Though they didn't know each other that well, their paths had crossed a few times in some interesting ways, including Amelia's participation in Carina's study — leading to the discovery of her brain tumor — and Carina delivering Amelia's baby. Not the most common circumstances, but strangely enough all situations in which they both seemed to feel quite comfortable around each other, considering.
Not waiting for an invite, Amelia sat down across from her.
"Here's what I think. We can talk problems, or we can talk solutions." Her gaze followed Carina's towards the wine on the table. She reached out, moving the glass to the side. "Not that one."
Carina cocked her head again, intrigued.
"I'm not here for the booze. There are more ways to feel better. Much healthier ways, too." Wiggling her brows, she went on, "You of all people should know that."
For the first time in weeks, Carina giggled.
Folding her arms on the table, Amelia leaned forward, looking Carina straight in the eyes.
"How mad would you be if I kissed you?"
The question elicited a bright laugh from Carina. "I'm not one to get mad that easily," she answered, shaking her head in amusement, "My wife, howeve—"
As a flash of pain clouded her face like some dark shadow, she abruptly fell quiet.
Amelia swiftly sat back again. "Shit, Carina, I'm sorry. I didn't want to..."
"It's okay."
"I just... I- I heard some rumors," Amelia stammered, "But they were all different, and I... I honestly have no idea how you... what happened to..."
"It's okay," Carina told her again. Sighing deeply, she lifted her hand, showing Amela her ringless finger. "It's true. I just... forgot so for a moment. I'm not exactly used to the new situation yet." She forced a smile, quietly adding, "So if this is you asking me for a menage a trois again, I'm afraid you'd have to provide the third party."
Despite Carina's sadness, one that Amelia didn't just feel but shared as well, she chuckled. "First of all, I kind of hoped you'd forgotten about that. And second, I just got my ass dumped."
"You did?" Shifting in her seat, Carina embraced the distraction that Amelia's situation just offered her. Not that she didn't feel bad for her — or worse: wanted to prey — but because she got hit by a sudden, rather entertaining realization.
They were both single.
For the first time since they'd met, they were both free as a bird. At the same time. Shattered and grieving and anywhere near moving on, maybe, but free. For the first time their playful flirtations didn't had to be all innocent.
Amelia was right. They could focus on their loss, on their pain, or they could allow themselves some relief - even if it wouldn't solve anything. It for sure would get her through the night though, help her face another day in which things could still go either way; in which doors could be slammed for good, or maybe, just maybe, be opened a little.
When Carina stayed quiet, distracted by the train of thoughts, Amelia narrowed her eyes "What is it?"
Leaning in, the corner of Carina's mouth quirked up, followed by her eyebrows.
"Ask me again."
"Ask you what?" a confused Amelia asked. But then she caught the sparkle in Carina's eye. A laugh escaped her and she nodded in understanding, reaching out again to rest her hand on top Carina's. Squeezing it lightly, she looked up at her through her lashes.
"How mad would you be if I kissed you?"
~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~
requested by @englishstrawbie | prompt list | my AO3
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