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#fic time :P
house-on-neibolt-st · 3 months
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is making my c! quackbur coffee shop au set in a cat cafe too much???
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stoopidstapler · 9 months
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SO IVE BEEN GOIN INSANE SINCE THIS TRAILER DROPPED. JUST. SIMON. SIMON. SIMON.
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even-disco-baby · 1 year
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THOUGHT GAINED: INFERNAL ENGINES
PROBLEM
The world is ending. You know it, your neighbor knows it, the dealer knows it, the jailer knows it, the king and all his men know it. All one has to do is look around to see it— the future is curdling into something pale and incorporeal. The infernal machine that is this stupid world is going to blow, sooner rather than later. So what are you doing? Why are you still here? Why is anyone still here?
SOLUTION
You are doing the only thing worth doing. You are living. *Why,* you ask? Try and remember now. Remember your mother’s hand on your shoulder. Remember the taste of a fresh catch. Remember the times when you were kind to the dogs in the valley and they did not bare their teeth. Remember the weight of a child on your shoulders. Remember the stars throwing their light against the wall of sodium and smog. Remember singing until your throat was raw. Remember crying just as loudly and publicly, and the gentleness with which someone opened your curled fist and pressed a handkerchief into your palm. Crying, laughing, running, eating, screaming, haunting, loving, fighting, fighting, fighting. The fight fuels you, and you fuel the fight. You run yourself ragged just for a chance to keep running. You never stop. You cannot stop. The world depends on it. *You* are the infernal engine. You are the world. And, simply put: you want to live.
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sad-leon · 7 months
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When your greif becomes so overpowering that you break shit, but now you're left empty and with just as much greif as you started with, if not more.
Anyways- guess who was listening to Lost One's Weeping again :D (it was me, i am so normal over that song)
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sheepishartist · 7 months
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This takes place after their kiss I previously posted
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sanjifucker42069 · 6 months
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OPLA!Sanji x Reader - Blowin'
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Word Count: 4.6k
I cut down some of the less, y’know, important stuff (the plot lol)
Warnings: oral sex (m!receiving), fem!reader, awkward first times, awkward af, the reader is a dipshit. I’m ngl this isn’t one of those cute first time fics where virgin!reader is suddenly a sex goddess, you are legitimately an idiot. As usual, written with a plus size!reader in mind.
Sanji finds out you’re a virgin. You suck his dick. Congrats!
Sanji was going to fucking lose it. Out of all the possible scenarios Sanji never once considered Nami would take you out to a bar to pick up guys. He brooded as he nursed his drink, Zoro rolling his eyes at the display. Sanji just growled. Usopp looked between them.
"How about another round? 'Nother milk Lu? Hey Sanji, why don't you come with me? I saw some hot chicks up at the bar."
Sanji just shook his head brooding. He looked to where you stood with Nami, laughing at some guy's jokes. He felt stupid at how jealous he felt.
"Hey, Sanj, man. Nami isn't gonna reciprocate y'know?" Usopp offered lightheartedly. Zoro scoffed from next to him. 
"It's not about Nami for once."
---
When Sanji's eyes found you again he saw you alone with the same guy, nursing a drink. Now that Nami was gone he could see the atmosphere had changed, you didn't seem happy like before. He watched as the guy said something and you shrugged halfheartedly. The guy then proceeded to wrap his arm around you. Sanji had known you long enough to see how uncomfortable you looked. Anger flared in his chest. The final straw was seeing the guy trying to tug you out of the booth to leave. You looked so defeated, it hurt. He began stalking his way to your booth.
"C'mon sweetcheeks, let's leave this dump."
"I'm good thanks, I should get back to my friends."
"I already told you bitch, we're going. I didn't spend all this time fucking around to go home empty handed. You're lucky I even stayed once your hot friend left. I'm doing you a favour, so hurry the fuck up."
"No, I really don't want to." You began, the man snarled, grabbing your wrist.
"It wasn't a question. You owe me. I don't go for ugly, but a hole's a hole, and from the back you're probably passable."
You had tears in your eyes from embarrassment. This whole trip was a bad idea. You wish Nami would come back. As the man tugged on your wrist harder you heard that gorgeous voice ring out. You tried to hide your face so Sanji wouldn't see the tears in your eyes. That last thing you wanted was for the crew to think you're weak.
"That's no way to win hearts Sunshine. So uncouth, and frankly, disgusting behaviour."
"Who the fuck are you? How about you mind your own business?"
"And watch such a beautiful lady be treated that way?"
"Beautiful lady my ass. The only thing you can know for sure about girls like this is that their pretty pussy is untouched." The man barked out a laugh causing you to wince. He snaked his other arm to cup your breast over your dress. You saw something flash in Sanji's eyes. "And I know I'm gonna really enjoy these."  
You squirmed, before biting the man. He howled in pain, releasing his hold on you. You quickly made your escape, rushing to cling to Usopp and Luffy, crying. You felt pathetic. Embarrassed that all eyes were on you.
Sanji saw red. You blinked back tears as you called out to him. Sanji was protective of all of you, but he seemed especially so of you. You knew it was because he saw you as some kind of little sister. "It's okay Sanji. Really, let's just go home. Please."
"No." He fixed the drunk man with a freezing gaze. "You dare touch someone so out of your league? I asked you nicely to piss off, but now I'm going to fucking kill you."
Before you could react Sanji had kicked the man in the chest. You watched as he began ruthlessly kicking and stomping the man, muttering profanities and sentences you couldn't understand. With a final stomp he huffed. Zoro finally pried Sanji away. You saw Nami returning, fuming. If you weren't so traumatised by the night you would have laughed at how Zoro pried Nami away too, holding the two brawlers by the scruff as they fought against it, looking like wet cats.
You don't remember how you got home. You remember Usopp covering you in his coat and dragging you out of the bar. You remember apologising to Usopp, crying that you needed to go back. The last thing you remember was Luffy running to join you, scooping you up and starting the walk back to the Going Merry, you, falling asleep in his rubbery arms.
---
"Ah my dear, you're finally awake. I made you something to eat."
You smiled tightly at him, thanking him. The way you played with your food tugged at his heartstrings. You looked so mournful. He pulled up a chair, sitting backwards on it, gripping the backrest. 
"C'mon lovely, don't make me have to feed you myself." He winked. Your lips twitched upwards performatively. Sanji frowned. "Look (name) about last night-"
"I'm sorry."
Confusion. "What?"
You cringed inward. "I'm....I'm sorry I ruined everyone's night."
"You didn't ruin anyone's night, that good for nothing prick did. Don't understand why you'd even go for a guy like that to be honest." He added bitterly. You frowned.
"I wouldn't normally. Everything moved so fast. He seemed nice...It was too late before I realised it's because he wanted Nami." Silence. "Once Nami left, I, well, I didn't want to cause a scene."
"So, what? You were just going to let him take advantage of you?"
You jolted, shocked. "No! No, I- there was no way he was going to-” 
“(Name), love, I know you can be a bit naive but-”
Your voice was small. “He said so himself! He..." you trailed off. "He didn't 'go for ugly girls'. And besides…he was right."
Sanji frowned, angry at the world. How could anyone make you believe that you weren't beautiful? That you didn't deserve some guy trying to take advantage of you? He took a deep breath, steadying his resolve
“There's no such thing as an ugly girl (name), and if there was, I can assure you you're not one of them.”
“Not that.” Sanji took in how you winced, trying to make yourself seem smaller.
What?
Sanji felt the wind knocked out of him.
You're a virgin?" He asked, clearly shocked. You bristled with embarrassment.
"Well...yeah, but I understand how it works! It's not such a big deal, I mean...I've just, I've never had the chance."
"Have you ever...y'know, at all? Not even a handy?" You shook your head. He flushed, you were completely pure.
He felt slightly sick at how his perverted thoughts twisted that. He could be your first, ruin you for all other partners. He could be the one to take your innocence. His cock twitched at the thought. Shame flooded him. You were his friend, his, admittedly, very cute friend. He shouldn't be thinking about you this way. His mind was racing with all the obscene thoughts he'd ever had, the deviant things he dreamed of. He was disgusting. You were too innocent, he'd felt guilty before, but now he felt like he was defiling you just by thinking about you.
You took his silence as pity and pointedly looked away from him, taking a deep breath.
"It's not like I don't want to. I do. But, ugh, it's so silly...no one has ever shown any interest. I'm not exactly a goddess like Nami."
"Darling, I don't believe no one has ever shown interest." He offered a smile. Gods if you only knew how badly he ached for you. How hard you made him. Now wasn't the time for him to blow your friendship over him thinking with his dick. You were being vulnerable.
"I don't need your pity Sanji. It's okay. You don't have to give me the 'everyone's beautiful in their own way' speech. There's more to me than my lack of experience! I'm a good fighter! I have talents, I don't need to be pretty. Just, sometimes, it'd be nice.". 
This wouldn't do. He had to try to fix this. He took your small hands in his, trying not to lose his breath at how warm they felt. Swinging them lightly, he stared into your eyes.
“You are a beautiful girl, you deserve way better than some kind of bastard like that. Men are pigs (name), you shouldn't trust any of them."
"I trust you."
Sanji froze. You peaked up at him shyly. He looked conflicted, and that caused you to smile sadly, misinterpreting the look. You withdrew your hands, fiddling with them in your lap. "I didn't mean that you should take one for the team Ji, I just meant that, well, I trust you. I don't think you're a pig."
"You shouldn't trust me." He lowered his voice. You stared at him, clearly taken aback. "I'm just as bad."
"No, you-"
"No. I'm an absolute pig darling. You aren't that dense surely."
You frowned. "Sure you flirt a lot with other girls, but that's just you! It's charming, non-threatening. I don't see you acting like-"
"I flirt with you too!" He tried, clearly exasperated. You smiled.
"Exactly! You make cute comments to me, and call me cute things like darling, but you're just naturally flirty."
Sanji groaned. Your smile slowly faltered. Sanji screwed his eyes shut. "I'm not 'just naturally flirty'...I mean, I am, I suppose, but I'm actually trying to flirt with you. I thought you were just being polite, but are you really that dense?"
"I....you are?"
"Are you kidding me?!"
"But, I'm..." You gestured to yourself. "You're more friendly than flirty to me?" 
"You're too innocent, it's not like I could just waltz right up and tell you that I think you're hot, can I?" He bristled. 
You felt electricity surge down your spine. Hot? Sanji thought you were hot? Sanji? 
Sanji took your silence as disgust. "See! That's exactly why I couldn't tell you."
"You think I'm hot?" He nodded. Your grin spread, hurting your blushing cheeks. Your eyes sparkling. "You think I'M hot?!"
"Yes, okay!" He sounded almost angry.
"Sanji, you're gorgeous! I'm too awkward. Too fat. Too plain. I'm not a model or some kind of beauty. And you're telling me someone as handsome as you, thinks I'm attractive!? And I-"
You stopped, really thinking about what he said. "Innocent? I....well I suppose. I'm not that innocent though."
Sanji's nostrils flared. "Not that innocent? Please love! You prance around in those low-cut tops and shorts in front of everyone, thinking that they ain't gonna go ballistic? You're too trusting of men, thinking that we aren't all beasts inside."
You laughed, still riding the high of his praise. Sanji snarled, banging his fist on the kitchen table. "No! It's true. You think someone doesn't see the way your tits look and salivate? You don't think you would make anyone insane? You don't think I got so fucking hard when you told me you're a virgin?"
He froze, blood turning to ice, clearly regretting blurting out that last bit. You stared at him, eyes round with wonder. He avoided your gaze, cringing at what you said next.
"I...I make you hard?".
"I'm sorry (name), that was very ungentlemanly of me. I didn't mean to say that last part." 
"But you did." He felt warm hands prying his open and playing with his fingers. He flitted his eyes up to see your face red, staring at him with your eyes practically sparkling with mirth. "God, I've wanted you to fuck me for ages, and now you're telling me you've actually wanted to this whole time?"
Sanji stiffened, cock twitching. He ached painfully. He felt parched, throat burning. This had to be a joke. "You...what?"
"Yeah. Fuck. I, mean, the clothing was purposeful at first, I wanted you to notice me. I had no idea it was working though, haha!"
"WHAT!?"
"Yeah, I thought you knew? You never noticed I only wore those kinds of clothes when you were around? You never noticed how I tried to cling to you in the kitchen? I just assumed you knew and thought I was gross, so I pulled back." You laughed. "Did you seriously think that because I'm a virgin I can't think sexually?"
"But you've never-"
"You've never said anything raunchy to me like you do to other girls. I thought you saw me as a little sister. It'd be weird if someone you saw like family told you they want to suck your dick."
"Fuck." He hissed. 
"Oh this is too good! Have I been torturing you?" You laughed, running a hand up his arm. "You must be so frustrated."
"You have no idea." 
"I could help you." 
Sanji groaned. "You can't say things like that."
"Oh." You pulled back, back to being timid. Even if it was at his expense, Sanji felt the loss of your confident persona. Fuck he really was a masochist, wasn't he? "I, um, I'd need you to guide me. But if you did want help, I'd like to be the one."
"God, you have no idea what you're doing to me." He heard you giggle lightly. He opened his eyes to see you biting your lip, staring up at him through thick lashes, a blush adorning your chubby cheeks. He throbbed.
"You could show me? I promise I'll be gentle! Please Sanji? Can I pretty please touch your dick?"
Sanji felt like he was going to explode from how cute you were. 
"Fuck. Please."
You squealed in excitement, jumping up from the table, both his arms in hand. He wanted to laugh at how innocent you looked, but instead he felt a lump in his throat. You didn't notice, pulling the seated man into an awkward, crushing hug.
"C'mon! C'mon what are you waiting for? Let's go!" 
"Go where?" He laughed at your eagerness. "In case you haven't noticed darling, we aren't exactly alone."
The way you deflated was comical. What wasn't was the wicked glint that formed in your eyes. Sanji gulped, that was never a good sign. He watched as you quickly dashed out of the kitchen. Sanji looked around, confused. Minutes passed. He got up from the table, moving over to the kitchen island, hiding his lower half behind the counter, lest one of the crew wandered in. He sighed, willing his boner away. 
Bang!
The door flew open. Sanji jumped. There you stood frantically in the doorway. Your hair a mess, breathing heavy, and that wicked glint set on him. He watched as you closed the kitchen door, taking a chair and boarding the door. You grinned, stalking towards him.
No. There's no way.
"We aren't going to be disturbed." You were practically vibrating in excitement.
"What? No. Not in the kitchen. We. Eat. Here." Sanji hissed. You peeked up at him, lip pouting. 
"Please? I'll make sure there's no mess left." You pleaded. 
No mess? Sanji closed his eyes and groaned when he realised what you meant. You were going to be the death of him. When he opened his eyes you were in front of him, staring at him shyly. He startled.
"Can I kiss you? Or is that too far?"
Too far? He wanted to cry. You really had no idea what you were doing to him. He bent down. You grinned. He wrapped an arm around the back of your head, pulling you closer. You tipped your head up. He smiled softly before placing his lips on top of yours.
Your lips locked together like the last piece of a puzzle. You sighed, eyes flitting closed. You pushed further against him, trying desperately to pull him closer. He tasted like cigarettes but you didn't mind, an addictive taste for an addictive man. You wanted more of him. You kissed him feverishly, reluctantly pulling back for air. You stared at the taller man through lidded eyes. He gazed down at you lovingly, a blush high on his cheeks. His blue eyes studied your face closely. 
Sanji laughed as with both hands you pulled his face back for another kiss. His skin was hot, your hands now cold against his cheeks. You tasted sweet and he wanted to devour you so badly. You were too cute. He felt you pull him closer to you. You were kissing and sucking at his lips before you felt it. Sanji bit back a groan, feeling your hips brush against him. He felt pure embarrassment as he heard your breath hitch, pulling away. He opened his mouth to protest but was cut off by a groan as you experimentally pushed your hips against him harder.
"Oh my gods." He heard you whisper against him. He froze. "Oh my gods it's so-"
"We can stop if it's too much dar-LING!"
He squeaked as he felt both your hands rake down his chest, you humming contently as you kept yourself pressed against him. He felt overwhelmed at how eager you were. He'd never had someone so upfront in wanting to touch him. His cocked throbbed. You mewled lightly, causing another throb.
"Oh my god it moves?" You giggled. He cracked a smile back. You were so innocent.
Sanji had made one crucial mistake though. That was thinking that just because you were inexperienced, that meant you would be submissive. He felt you cage him against the countertop, the wood digging into his ass, your hands on him. It wasn't that he didn't like it, the dissonance was making him dizzy. He felt your hands find purchase on his waist. You breathed out a dreamy sigh.
"God your waist is so fucking tiny."
Sanji bristled with embarrassment. He tried to address it without upsetting you. "Love, that's not exactly what I want to hear."
You giggled. "I can't help it, it's so hot. You could kick my ass if you wanted, but holy fuck you're just letting me feel you up. Gods I've seen you fight, I've seen how thick your legs are, but fuck your waist is so little."
Sanji hissed. He'd never experienced anything like this before. Your hands migrated upwards, resting on his pecs. Your slow pace was driving him insane.
"Can I?" You gestured to his shirt.
"Fuck, love, I'd love to, but maybe when we have somewhere more private okay? Don't want to be too unclothed if someone tries to come in. Same with you okay? Don't want anyone to see something so gorgeous." He smiled at you. You nodded your head, practically buzzing at the idea of this happening again. He winked at you. "You could take off something else though."
Sanji was shocked and delighted at how quickly you dropped to your knees. You began playing with his belt, figuring out how the clasp worked. Sanji scrunched his eyes shut. Fuck, you were so eager! He never would’ve expected it to go like this. Despite your eagerness you were so gentle, as if you were afraid of touching him. He was going to prompt you, but instead you softly pulled his zipper down and began drawing the fabric down till it sat mid thigh.
Oh, fuck. There he was, huh?
You looked at his clothed cock, studying It like it was some kind of strange bug. You wanted to laugh at the comparison. Above you Sanji was flushed, embarrassed by your staring. You ran a finger over the bulge. He hissed, his dick jumping lightly. You couldn't help the giggle that bubbled out of your throat. 
"What?"
"It's so cute the way it jumps."
"Maybe this was a mistake."
"No no no! I promise I'll be good. Can I, um... do I?"
"Just...hah...do what you think is right. I'll...correct you."
Sanji let out an undignified squeak as he felt you lightly grab the clothed bulge. You massaged it, feeling what you could, watching with curiosity how the man above you writhed. Exploratively, you moved your hand further back, cupping his balls through the fabric. The friction of the fabric against bare skin was pure torture.
"Oh shit!" Sanji whined. You withdraw your hand like it burnt. "That's, god, that's really sensitive okay? You're killing me sweetheart."
"Sorry." You mumbled, placing a kiss to his bare thigh. The "strange bug" jumped again. You began peppering more kisses to his thigh. Once you reached the inside of his thigh you breathed deeply, he smelt musky, it made your mouth water. Experimentally, you licked the inside of his thigh. Sanji's thigh tensed. You licked upwards in long stripes until you reached the leg of his underwear. You gave a quick moment of hesitation before you blew air over the bulge. Sanji hissed. Smiling, you placed a kiss directly over the top of his bulge. 
"Did you just kiss my dick?"
"Mmhmm. Watch, I'll do it again." You placed an open mouth wet kiss over Sanji's clothed cock. The man above you threw his head back, whining softly. The fabric was dampened with a mix of your spit and something else. You saw how taut the fabric had become. You cooed. "That looks like it hurts." 
Sanji nodded. You looked up at him.
"Can I take them off?"
He shuddered. "Fuck. Please (name)."
With curiosity you began dragging the wet underwear down his hips, settling them at his mid thigh. His musky scent overpowered you, and you watched with fascination as Sanji's cock slapped against his stomach. Looking up at him you saw how tight his eyes were scrunched, knuckles gripping the countertop. You noticed how he shivered lightly at the exposure. Sanji's cock stood, large, imposing, and leaking. You breathed out a curse. It looked gorgeous, just like him, long and lithe. His happy trail led to a neat little patch of dark hair. You salivated. Eyes drawing to your prize, you winced at how red and angry the head looked.
Sanji thought he was going to kill you when he felt you tap his cockhead like a microphone. Instead he bucked his hips away, humiliation colouring his face. "Stop that! I know you don't know what you're doing, but please use your brain dearest." 
You mumbled an apology before rubbing your hands together, trying to warm them. He watched as you wrapped a hand around his dick before moaning lowly. You studied him, absolutely enraptured, as you gave a test pump. The man above you crumbled. 
"Do you always get this way?"
"No." He panted.
"Just for me?" You tried sultry, trying to muster up some quote from a smutty novel you once read. Sanji peeked one eye open before groaning.
"No." His voice was strained, breathing heavy. You tried pumping him, but the rhythm was sloppy. "N-no. You're...it's a lot right now. I'm not used to it being this slow…or clumsy."
"Do you like it?" You looked up at him with wide eyes.
"Unfortunately." He muttered. With a burst of pride you tried pumping him harder. Sanji squealed, grabbing your hand. "Fuck (name), I really need you to spit in your hand. Th-that's painful."
"Oh...sorry." You offered. Sanji watched as you perversely spit in your hand, wrapping the digits back around his cock. You tried setting a rhythm, it was sloppy, but you focused on giving him consistent squeezing pressure. Sanji moaned lowly at the squeezing, hips rocking. 
Soon you reached a steady rhythm. You watched with bated breath before you slowed down. Sanji began to whine from the loss, only to keen loudly as he felt your lips enclose his cockhead. He began spluttering, eyes rolled backwards. He'd take anything right now, fuck he wanted to cum so bad. He sucked in a breath.
"No teeth, okay love?" 
You laughed, the vibrations tickling him in the best way. He moaned, trying desperately to not fuck your face. His eyes were so tightly scrunched.
You slowly forced yourself further down his length, squeezing the base. Sanji swore. You froze, taking a deep breath through your nose. When he didn't stop you, you continued your devotion. 
"Ack!" You choked, throat burning. You felt Sanji's hand patting your head. You retreated off him, coughing.
"Darling don't take more than you can okay. We don't want you to choke now."
You gazed up at him, eyes wet and throat hoarse. "Let me try again!" 
Your raspy voice made Sanji quiver, but the way you looked up at him, absolutely wrecked, made him burn. As quickly as he noticed it, it ended, and you unceremoniously inhaled his cock. He could feel you try to smile. 
"Fuck!" His voice was high as you sucked hard, adding your tongue to flatten against the underside of his cock. "(Name)! Baby, fuck, I-"
"Hey why won't the door open?" Zoro's voice rang through the wood. Sanji stilled, holding your head. The two of you looked at each other frozen. Sanji tried clearing his throat. 
"If you keep making noise out there, I'm gonna explode, Mosshead!"
You snorted, trying hard to not laugh. 'Yeah you're gonna explode,' you inwardly snickered. 
"Whatever shitty waiter." 
Silence. Sanji looked down at you. "Darling, maybe we should stop. It's okay, we can try again another day." He froze at the frustrated look that overtook your features. "Fuck." He whispered.
You sucked harshly causing Sanji to bite his hand hard to avoid screaming. He felt you try swallowing, watched as tears pricked your eyes. You didn't slow down on your work, sucking harshly and hands wandering. You grabbed a fistful of his asscheek, other hand tracing circles on his inner thigh. You felt him tensing, quivering. His hand reached for your neck, trying to coax you off. He was so close.
"Oh god!" Sanji gasped. "Baby I'm gonna cum, you need to hop off-AH!" 
You sucked harder, milking the man through his orgasm. It was like music the way he spluttered and grabbed the back of your head, nails scratching your scalp. You felt hot, thick liquid painting your throat. It wasn't pleasant, but fuck his reactions were. Some dribbled out of the corner of your mouth and Sanji wiped it away with a thumb, a fucked out expression on his features. He pulled his softened cock out of your mouth, and watched, breathless as you swallowed his seed. You made a grimace afterwards causing the man to laugh.
"Was it okay?" You asked, shyness taking over you. 
"You're lucky I don't mind a bit of torture. It was good for a first try." He gave you that flirty grin and a wink. "I think you need more practice though."
You laughed, outstretching a hand so he could help you up. You tried stretching your legs, noting the numb pain in your knees. You wrapped your arms around his middle. "Was I that bad?"
Sanji pulled his underwear and pants back up, zipping his pants closed. He pulled you closer. "Nah, you're just something else entirely. Silly." Kiss. "Torturous." Kiss. "And I am smitten with you."
"We've wasted enough time, better get back to it." You smiled against his lips. 
"I'd love to pay you back."
"Later loverboy, we're gonna have the whole crew in here soon if we don't hurry."
"I'm so glad there's a later."
You winked, straightening your clothes and heading for the door. You stopped, turning to stare at the man.
"For you baby? Always. Oh, can you make souffle?"
"What? Why?"
"I told the guys we were making a souffle and needed the kitchen completely silent."
Sanji laughed. You definitely kept him on his toes.
-----------
I'm not going to lie, some of this is coloured by my first time hahaha! I am an incredibly awkward person, and yes I did also once tell a guy how cute I thought it was when dicks jump. He also told me I was fucked for that ha!
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shares-a-vest · 8 months
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"Are you sure you don't want to just come over to my place?"
Steve bites his lip, contemplating the proposal Robin has offered him several times this week, ever since he'd told her he was having lunch with his parents.
It was Father's Day after all.
His parents would be home for at least a fortnight this time, on a quick stop-over in Hawkins before leaving again, this time for a vacation somewhere. They needed "a break" his mother had said with a laboured sigh, all whistful and longing as if she wasn't making such a statement amidst a lengthy monologue about all the friends they had just caught up with in Indianapolis.
Steve guesses they were technically a business trip. Though his recollections of such trips he'd gone as a kid (back when his parents absolutely had to bring him along) did involve the odd visit to Head Office in between social gatherings that only ever felt vaguely related to his father's business.
He turns away from the wall-mounted phone in the kitchen to look out at the patio. His father is sitting on a lounge chair, drinking a coffee and, low and behold, reading his new copy of The Bourne Supremacy Steve had handed him at breakfast.
His father was impossible to buy for - so a book was always a safe enough choice, one that would at least give him a "thank you" in return with no further commentary or snark.
"Uh..." he hums into the phone as his father turns a page, "Y'know what? Maybe later."
He gasps as his mother opens the back sliding door to the kitchen, the skirt of her yellow patterned kaftan flowing along with her. He turns back to the wall, crowding the phone base.
"Steve?" his mother asks, chuckling, "You're still on the phone!"
It isn't exactly chastising, more amused like Robin's mother gets about the pair of them talking on the phone for a solid hour at a time.
He looks over his shoulder and rolls his eyes as his best friend groans at the comment.
"Are you sure?" Robin asks, tone abruptly turning serious, "You know my dad loves you, Steve."
"I'll come by later," he insists, "Promise."
"...Okay..." she sighs before hanging up.
As he mounts the speaker, Steve is greeted with a knowing look from his mother. She is holding a glass of iced tea, fresh ice cubes tinkling away in the tall glass.
"Mom, don't," he whines, hoping to get outside and drive straight into the pool and away from any further conversation.
She holds her free hand up in surrender, tilting her head, "Okay, darling."
"I'm going for a dip," he grumbles before heading out to the pool area.
"Your mother and I are headed over to the Martens soon," his father announces as Steve passes by his reclining form.
His stomach drops and he freezes mid-stride to the outdoor chair he'd designated for his towel.
"What?" he blurts out, practically shouting as he whips around.
His father sets his book in his lap and looks up, shielding his eyes from the sun with his left hand. The sunlight reflects off his shiny watch and directly into Steve's eyes.
He grimaces, quickly mirroring his father.
"But..." he begins, trying to even out his clipped tone, "You said... We... You said we were having lunch here?"
"Your mother didn't tell you?"
"But..." he repeats, his voice catching in his throat a little, "It's Father's Day."
His father stands, stretches and gathers up the beach towel he had propped under his knees.
"We wanted to see them before we headed out."
"You're here for two weeks!" Steve argues, waving his hand as if to capture the presumed time his father has to visit his oldest and most insufferable friend.
"Steve, John and Louise's son is that busy working, he doesn't have time to be sitting around on Father's Day. So, we figured we'd meet them for lunch."
"Um..." he gulps, now blinking away tears.
He closes his eyes for a moment, breathing in and out as slowly as his growing anger will allow. The sun feels like it is burning into his bare skin, now, no longer feeling like the calming warmth he had felt when he came out to access the pool earlier.
He opens his eyes to find his father turned towards the back door.
"I'm going to Robin's."
He doesn't wait for an answer as he pushes past his father and back into the kitchen. Thankfully, his mother is nowhere to be seen as he makes a beeline for the laundry room where he'd left his work clothes from yesterday with his car keys still in the pocket of his jeans.
He grabs his Member's Only jacket from the coat rack on the way out. Even though the thing is less than weather-appropriate for a Sunday in June, right now it will suffice...
"Steve!" Robin's dad beams after he opens the front door.
The man is wearing a comically bright shirt, a Hawaiian-style button-up with a primary-coloured geometric pattern and squiggly green swirls. Steve thinks his father would hate it.
"Hi, Mr Buckley," he says, offering a tight-lipped smile as he holds out a store-bought key lime pie.
"Steve, please call me Richard," the man insists, unaware that sharing a name with his own father makes Steve want to fucking scream.
Richard takes a pie with a formal nod, his smile dropping a little as Steve shuffles about on the spot. The man looks him up and down.
Shit.
He'd forgotten about the jacket just as quickly as he had shrugged it on before speeding off in his car. But Richard waves him in with an insistent hand, thankfully not prying any further. It is probably quite obvious he isn't wearing a shirt underneath. The thought makes him itch as he becomes all too aware of the slippery fabric, its lining making the back of his neck prickle with sweat.
"Robin is in her room," Richard whispers as Steve steps inside and remembers his flip-flops too as they scuff on the threshold.
"The pie is from Melvad's, sorry," is all he thinks to say.
Richard gives him a pat on the back, just as Robin begins descending the staircase, wearing a shirt just as loud as her father's, only purple and maroon.
She smiles, though her eyes suggest she is clearly worried.
"Steve's here, darling!" Richard announces, intentionally boisterous for their close proximity.
"Oh, thank god," Robin dry-sobs, making grabby hands for the pie.
But Richard snatches it up, playing a one-sided game of keep-away that Robin doesn't even attempt to buy into. He lowers his hand with a swooping flourish, looking a little disappointed.
"Anything's better than the in-laws' dry fruit pudding," he laughs as they both examine the dessert.
"Come on," Robin says, grabbing Steve's hand and yanking him towards the stairs, "This Father's Day's theme is Richard Buckley-Approved Shirts, I've already got one ready for you. It's yellow. You'll love it."
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littlespidermonkey · 5 months
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Just saw a post that said Scott and Stiles are not in love with each other. WRONG. they are so transcendentally in love with each other that they don't know they're in love and have instead resorted to saying shit like "I want to be the same person as you. We need to merge" and thinking it is normal. They are the epitome of weird, fucked up, closeted even to yourself, codependent queer friendship, guy edition. This is not projection
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1tbls · 3 months
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man, DE fic piss me off a little sometimes asdfgk. i think u guys are greatly overestimating how much police can or are willing to do, and what cases they are incentivized to actually pursue.
when my mom's apartment was broken into a year ago, her next door neighbor literally got one of the guys on camera, and the police basically shrugged and went "sorry! nothing we can do!". when one of the men broke in again a week later, while my sister was home alone, when she could have been attacked, when she saw the guy face to face, again they were like "sorry! nothing we can do!"
which isn't to say i think they should have gone all supercop to solve the case. what the fuck are they gonna do, manhunt the guys across the city based on grainy camera footage? what would my mom and sister even gain from that, what would the community gain from that, having cops hovering around and then maybe throwing two poor guys from the neighborhood into prison? it's just reality that there's only so few resources to solve these things, so many dead ends, and more harm than benefit to the socioeconomic circumstance of the area.
it's just kind of irksome seeing fic casually talk about all the crimes precinct 41 and C-wing are pursuing and solving, when in reality most probably wouldn't even reach their desks before they were waved away as a dead case. or if they did reach their unit, still wouldn't be solved because it's simply too big of a gamble of time and resources. according to pew research center, in the US, about 45% of violent crime cases are solved each year, and only about 18% of property crime. and that's only the solve rate for the reported cases. it is in fact copaganda and simply inaccurate to portray the police as though they make a significant impact on crime, when more than half the time they're going, "sorry! nothing we can do!" 👍
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alirienn · 6 months
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kuronatober
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emby-m · 6 months
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allmightyscroll-swag · 6 months
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Shout-out to @onejellyfishplease for creating a fic that my brain latched onto so violently that I think of it on a weekly basis
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Man, i can't imagine having the feeling of something literally buzzing under your skin writhing to be let out let out let out- being comfortable.
Original sketch below cut;
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It was way more moody but I was like. no . The boy is overwhelmed the arts gotta be BRIGHT and EYESORE-y
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yuanology · 8 months
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Hey, i love your writing! Could you please write for
M!reader, a seemingly innocent guy, though appearances can be deceiving. Then there's Geto, who initially dropped subtle hints about having feelings for Reader. But frustration mounts as Geto's attempts go unnoticed, with Reader simply viewing their interactions as friendly. Eventually, Geto's patience wears thin, especially since Gojo and reader have been getting along well. As jealousy and frustration brew within Geto, he unknowingly directs it at reader through snarky and bratty comments. Reader, though patient, can only take so much. They finally snap, (Geto is surprised because reader is always so soft spoken and sweet) giving Geto a piece of their mind and putting him in his place.
Can i please be 👁️ anon?
welcome 👁️ anon! i forgot to actually write smut in this! so have a really long build-up and hopefully a part two in the future, holy shit. i am so sorry. (suguru's characterisation is also a bit weird here . i can't put a finger on it but my brain is not clicking rn. i am so sorry, 👁️ anon. i'll do better next time. please forgive me for this failure just this once.)
geto suguru was not an impatient man but you were an entirely different matter. you always had been.
there was something about you that drove your existence apart from all of the others— a steadiness in your presence, a constance in your friendship with him. you kept him grounded, an anchor and a light in the darkness that came with being a jujutsu sorcerer. had it not been for you, suguru thought he might have gone rogue so many times ago in the past.
"suguru."
ah, speak of the angel (yes, he knew that wasn't how the saying went, but you weren't the devil. how could you be, with your smile and your careful hands? you were an angel, sent from above to keep him from drowning), you slid into the seat next to him. as usual, you smiled at him, the corners of your eyes crinkling as you did, before you dug into your meal.
suguru let his gaze linger on you for a few short seconds before he turned his face to eat his meal, too.
lunch was a contented affair, filled with small talk and the occasional sound of your laughter. there was something domestic, suguru would like to think, about the way you stole his chicken and he snatched your meatballs in compensation. suguru could hardly think of a time he had ever been this comfortable with anyone but you. you had him lowering his guards without ever having to ask him at all, an inane talent he doubted you even noticed. but it was there, and you were a miracle worker that never failed to hold him through his worst and his best.
so, really, it shouldn't come as a surprise that suguru would have to share you with others, too.
specifically, one fucking annoying gojo satoru.
don't misunderstand him, he loved satoru. satoru was his best friend, his one and only, his steady companion. they had been through hell and back together, shoving each other to further heights and hauling one another out of the deepest pits. he cared for satoru, loved him in every way a man could love his best friend. suguru loved his friend.
but jesus christ, could satoru get on his nerves sometimes.
because the thing is. the thing is that satoru knew—he knew the way suguru looked at you, he knew the way suguru spoke about you, he knew the way suguru's heart beat and ached for you. satoru knew all about the depths of his affections for you, every single beautiful and ugly thing, because that was what you do with your best friend, right? you trust them.
backstabber, suguru thought bitterly, shoving a now-acrid tasting meatball into his mouth.
because there satoru was, his arms thrown around you in ways that suguru could never touch you, his jokes making you laugh in a way that left suguru feeling ripped between wanting to watch your smile and punch satoru in the face hard enough that he'd be bleeding for days for stealing that sight from you and leaving suguru nothing but the left-overs to pick after.
in spite of everything, suguru was hardly ever really envious of his best friend. yes, there were moments where he wished satoru would get off his high-horse and someone would knock some sense into him (and that responsibility, more often than not, fell on suguru's shoulders), but he was never really jealous of satoru. there was never a need for it, not when he knew the worst and the lows of being gojo satoru.
however, in that moment, watching satoru cling onto you and make you grin, suguru understood what it meant to truly be seething with jealousy. that should be me.
the rest of the day passed by in a hazy blur after that. suguru vaguely recollected leaving lunch early, reciting robotically that he had somewhere to be urgently and ignoring the knowing grin satoru shot his way or the downwards curl of your lips. he thought he might have given you the cold shoulder at some point or another, the words leaving his lips a little sharp and a little cruel, but he didn’t remember what he said. you might have recoiled, you might have not. suguru couldn’t remember.
(and he didn’t want to remember— he didn’t want to remember the way he had turned his face away when he heard the sound of your voice calling out his name. he didn’t want to remember the way his shoulders had knocked against yours a little too hard as you passed each other by in the hallways. he didn’t want to remember the way your face dropped when he took a seat on a table across the room from your usual one. he didn’t want to remember because if he did, then he would have to remember all the tiny ways he hurt you. papercuts still stung like a bitch, after all.)
then, one day became another, and another became a week, and a week became a month—
and the end of the month brought you.
a beautiful, brilliant, furious apparition of you—one that stormed up to him and, without warning or another word, grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and hauled him bodily after you. his feet dragged against the floor, his toes catching onto the heels of his own choes before he could struggle to right himself.
“what are you—” he began.
“shut up,” you interrupted him.
cleverly, suguru did.
he didn’t say a damn thing even as you slammed the door to your dormroom open, shoving him inside without another word. his lips parted in confusion when you began to lock the door behind you, but he still said nothing as you grabbed him by the wrist to direct him further into your room. he didn’t say a single word until you shoved him onto your bed, his back flat on the mattress.
“what?” he tried again.
“you’ll shut up and listen to me when i talk,” you said, your voice leaving no room for arguments. suddenly, you were looming over him, straddling his waist as your open palm pressed over his chest; right above his pounding heart. “do you understand?”
suguru swallowed thickly as he nodded. this was a side of you he hadn’t even known existed; rough and unafraid, your hands on him meant to firmly rule rather than to guide gently as you usually would. even in your anger, you had never been anything else but firm—steady and stubborn.
fuck, he thought wisely to himself. i'm in deep trouble.
but when your hand found the collar of his shirt, your fingers curling around the fabric of his shirt, he finds that he didn't mind it. not in the slightest.
because you had always been beautiful, but you were damningly ephemereal now, peering down at him with something burning carved into your irises; bold and brilliant, striking and inescapable. suguru had never felt so wonderfully trapped before, caught in your stare and unable to look away.
"satoru told me everything," you began, your assessing gaze never once leaving him. "i'm disappointed, suguru."
static clogged his head immediately, all thoughts clearing from his head into an unbearable haze. dirty little traitor. his throat felt tight, his heart stopping in his chest. excuses climbed up the back of his mouth, tasting like bile and the curses that he swallows, and every single little ugly thing that had ever crossed his mind. explanations defining his inner-most thoughts, apologies creasing into the space between his teeth. nothing came out, nothing but a strangled sound; caught between a whimper and a whine. weak, pathetic.
your head tilted at the noise, your gaze sharpening into something vicious. "you should have told me yourself," you said. "i never took you for a coward, suguru."
suguru couldn't help the weak, strangled thing that escaped his throat. he thought that it might have been a piece of his heart. "i'm sorry," he whispered, before he could think better of it.
the sigh that you let out was low, almost vicious in its nature. suguru hid his wince by turning his head, the side of his face half-buried into the sheets. before he could succeed, however, your hand caught his chin, forcing him to turn his gaze to meet your eyes once again.
"look at me when i'm talking to you, suguru." your voice sent a series of goosebumps rippling up his skin. he shuddered, trying to shake it off, but he couldn't when your grip on his face was firm. he still tried to nod a bit, wanting to appease you.
"i'm sorry," suguru rasped out once again.
"stop apologising."
all of a sudden, his forehead was flicked. the motion was so familiar in the face of such an unfamiliar circumstance that suguru couldn't help but blink, startled. for a moment, suguru couldn't think, couldn't do anything—much less suppress the faint smile that appeared on his lips. perhaps not much had changed after all. perhaps you could still have him as your friend, still care for him the way you cared for him before.
"so," he started slowly, "you're not angry at me?"
"i'm pissed at you," you told him bluntly.
before he could wilt, though, your grip on his chin became a gentle caress to his jaw, and suguru felt his whole world tilting upside down once again. your face was close to his, too close, and suguru felt like he couldn't breathe at the proximity.
"i am so, so angry at you, suguru. you should have told me everything sooner. i can't believe you made me wait so long just for this. all your attitude as of late, all your snark and sass, that was just a defence mechanism, wasn't it?" your voice was cutting as you picked apart his brain, dissecting all of his secret truths with all the precision of a surgeon's knife. "you got jealous—and instead of talking to me, you decided to push me away."
your voice was a low murmur, not meant to be anything seductive but still sending a sharp thrill up to suguru's monkey brain all the same. all he could think of was the curl of your smile—secretive, knowing, like you were in on some secret joke that he wasn't—and the way you were looking at him now—like a predator who had his hunt cornered—and how suguru couldn't do anything but take anything that you doled out.
fuck, that's so hot.
"i'm sorry," he said again, dutiful and polite.
and for a moment, simply a nanosecond, he caught a fissure in your exterior; that softness bleeding out for a moment before the cracks smoothened itself out. even so, that split-second was enough for suguru to realise oh. he's not actually angry at me. because all of this, he knew now, was part of the game that you were playing with him; a theatrical dramatic act to compensate for the weeks of silence you got from his end.
your head tilted slowly, dangerously, as if you're assessing him, and the newfound knowledge that you like were made a shiver run down his spine. because you wanted this, you wanted him too, even if you haven't said those words out loud. you craved him, and that single piece of knowledge was enough for suguru to feel like he was going to break himself apart and meld himself together until he fit all and every single one of your wishes; until he became perfect just for you.
suguru's smile was small, placating in the way he knew you hated it. "forgive me?" he asked, practically simpering.
you caught onto what he was trying to do—of course, you did, you always did—and you threw your head back in a sharp laugh. "i don't know, suguru." your smile was mean, dangerous, and suguru almost fainted on the spot. fuck. "do you think you deserve my forgiveness?"
all of suguru's bravado melted in that moment as he felt like a miserably delighted pile of limbs and bones and a beating heart that thumped and echoed and lived just for youyouyou. "no," he said, his voice coarse, rough with his own admission. his hand moved to rest on your knees, not reaching higher because he knew better than to touch you more at a time like this. he didn't deserve it yet. "but let me show you." let me deserve the taste of you, let me deserve to feel what it means to worship you.
your lips curled into a smirk, and suguru felt as if he was going to die right then and there. miraculously, he managed to stay alive just long enough to watch you crawl off of him, standing by the edge of the bed, your gaze still following him like you were going to eat him alive.
"hands and knees, suguru," you said. "you better earn it."
geto suguru was not an impatient man but in order to satisfy you, no time in the world was ever enough.
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becauseplot · 8 months
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Penciled Lines
(Cross-posted on ao3, if you prefer to read it there. Reblogs still appreciated!)
Missa wakes up, and he thinks he might be doomed. This doesn’t scare him nearly as much as it should.
Missa is awake early—by his own metric, anyway. His nocturnal nature causes “early” for him to mean “early night” and not “early morning.” Regardless, “early” means that Philza is not asleep yet, still going through his nightly rituals. “Early” means that Philza is sitting up in (his? their?) the bed, pillows propped up behind him, notebook in his lap, sketching away.
And when Missa wakes up to the soft scritch-scratch of a charcoal pencil on textured paper, his forehead just so happens to be brushing Philza’s hip.
Missa can hardly breathe.
Oh no.
He knows that if he gives any indication that he is awake, Philza will stop sketching, close his notebook, shift himself over until he is politely seated on his side of the bed, and greet Missa with a friendly smile. Philza has done it before, when Missa wakes up early. That’s how Missa knows he’ll do it again.
Thus, Missa can hardly breathe—his breaths have to be the slow in-out of sleep. He can’t so much as twitch, either. He has to keep quiet and play dead or else he’ll be found out. Seen. Caught living the lie.
“Husband,” Philza calls him. They’re not married. They share a bed. They’re hardly ever in it at the same time. They have a son and a daughter. Neither of them know Missa very well. Philza has had an extra set of armor and a skull on his backpack for months, waiting for Missa. Missa doesn’t even know Philza’s last name.
Philza is a good man and a good friend—and Missa doesn't deserve him. Still, he takes what he can get. Curls around it. Hoarding every innocent kindness Philza extends like a starving creature: the generosity of a backpack fully stocked with equipment; the trust Philza places in Missa to watch the kids when he’s asleep; and now, the courtesy of not moving his hip from Missa’s forehead to ensure his “sleeping” isn’t disturbed. Missa clutches all of these little offerings in his greedy claws and hugs them into his chest, even as the guilt eats away at him.
Because, regardless of the lack of mutual feeling, he loves Philza. He loves him so, so much, and that is why he is doomed. He can’t afford to lose what little he has. He can’t cross that line. 
So Missa lies beside Philza, forehead pressed against Philza’s hip, pretending to sleep so he can imagine that they’re not just lying in bed together, but lying in bed, together; and later, when Missa truly wakes, he will sit on his side of the bed and look at Philza’s face soft with sleep and think about how lucky he is that he still has a side-of-the-bed to begin with.
Missa doesn’t mean to drift off. When it starts to happen, he’s hopelessly torn between shaking himself awake and thus giving himself away, or remaining how he is, silently fending off the inevitable. In the end, Missa clings to that scritch-scratch sound of Philza’s pencil on the paper for as long as he can before the fog at last pulls him under. 
Eventually, he dreams. In fact, he dreams of the calloused fingers he dreams of every night, hands like his own, an artist of Death, cradling and shading the contours of his face—a softness dashing charcoal across his jaw, and over his cheekbones, and perhaps on his lips, too, if he’s lucky. Defining every edge of him.
~*~
A deep sigh. Phil stops sketching as Missa shifts in his sleep. He tilts his head up so that the tip of his nose is now just nearly brushing against Phil’s hip. The motion disturbs the wild splay of his dark hair, revealing more of his face: eyelashes, cheeks, warmth. Tender blush of something Stygian and otherworldly. New.
Phil’s lips tilt upwards. He turns to a fresh page, and he starts again.
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nattikay · 4 months
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It had all happened so fast.
Sitting cross-legged in the tsahìk’s freshly-woven marui, Neytiri found it difficult to believe how different her life had been hardly four months prior. Engaged to her late sister’s beloved. Struggling to fill the role of tsakarem in said sister’s place. Filled with bitterness toward the sky people who had killed her just a few years before…
She’d wanted nothing more to do with those aliens. Nothing more to do with that school. She’d known Grace Augustine since she was very young, almost as long as she could remember, and she’d always been kind, but not even Grace could protect Sylwanin from those nasty metal weapons. Not Sylwanin, not Neytep, not Anuk…
No. She’d been so angry at the sky people, at all of them, even Grace and her scientists, that she’d been ready to shoot that one clumsy dreamwalker on sight the moment she first saw him stumbling through the underbrush.
And yet…so much had happened since then. 
Bringing that dreamwalker back to Hometree, at Eywa’s insistence. Her mother forcing her to become his teacher. Teaching him the ways of the Omatikaya, and those of the Na'vi more broadly…annoyed at first, but gradually softening as he actually seemed to take her instruction to heart. He’d been a quick learner, surprisingly humble, endlessly curious like a small child, and about as coordinated as one too, at first. Without even realizing it, as his understanding and abilities grew, so did her affection for him…an affection that must have been mutual, because before she knew it they were mating in the soft glow of Utraya Mokri, unabashedly sealing their bond before Eywa, commiting to each other for life. Neytiri’s face tinged the slightest purple at the memory. It certainly hadn’t come with all the bells and whistles of a normal mating ceremony, but she couldn’t bring herself to regret it.
…but then…the sky people ruined that too, the great metal claws of their crass machines ripping down the sacred trees with careless abandon. They came for Hometree soon after, decimating the village Neytiri had grown up in, and taking several lives with it. Including her father. She’d watched him die there in the rubble. Just like Sylwanin. 
She’d been so angry at Jake. He had known about the impending arrival of the sky people and their fire-spitting beasts the whole time. Why hadn’t he told them? Why hadn’t he told her? But…he was a dreamwalker, after all. A sky person’s mind riding a false body. Just like Grace, who couldn’t save Sylwanin. They were all the same. They were always the same—
…yet then he returned to the clan as Toruk Makto, and in that moment Neytiri understood with startling certainty that despite any poor decisions he may have made in the past, he really was on the clan’s side now, he was ready to risk everything for them and for Pandora, and he had the endorsement of Eywa herself.
The relief was enough to make her head spin.
Then came the death of Grace, despite the clan’s valiant effort to save her. Then the great battle in the mountains. Seze’s death. Tsu'tey’s. So many other allies…the survivors saved only by Eywa’s miraculous intervention.
Killing the sky people’s olo'eyktan in his beastly metal machine. Saving Jake’s sky person body, which could not breath the natural air (and, she discovered that day, could not even walk on its own). Sending the surviving sky people back to their own world, save for a few who had sided with the Na'vi.
Recuperating the clans. Building a new village. Tending to battle wounds. Grieving the fallen. 
So much had happened.
It had been barely more than four months since Neytiri first aimed her bow at that strange dreamwalker.
It had all been so fast. Like a dream.
And now…
Now…
Neytiri’s trembling fingertips traced a light, shaky pattern across her own abdomen.
A baby.
She was going to have a baby. She and her mate. Her husband, the former dreamwalker.
Maybe I’m still dreaming.
Continue reading on Ao3→
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genderbndr · 6 months
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I don't post my art often but I made some fanart for @moonliched and their fic There are many benefits (to rethinking this carrer path): https://archiveofourown.org/works/47449438/chapters/119573569
I have fallen in love with this beautiful piece of work and started doodling and then fell into a haze and made an actual piece from Chapter 8.
Moon is a wonderful sweetheart and the writing is incredible. Go read their fantastic work (it even comes with funny pov stuff in the end notes!!!)
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Here are some doodles I made too of the first 4 chapters end note pov memes. I couldn't help myself, they're so goofy. My hand was getting tired by the end lol so some are better than others. Hope you like anyway :) (btw, i put some patterns on sun, moon and eclipse just for funsies, idk if they actually have that kinda marking in the fic)
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The person with the curly hair and bubbles for braids is the reader and the guy with the short hair is me! :) I really love the fic, seriously, absolutely put it on your list if you have the time.
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