#that's what art and writing is supposed to be about in the first place
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Olalla – Chapter 01
Josh Kiszka x female OC, Jake Kiszka
4.965 words
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, intended for adult readers. Any resemblance to real persons is purely coincidental. Also, if you're under 18, go find some other entertainment elsewhere.
Warnings: sadness, heartbreak, talking about death, anxiety, alcohol consumption
Taglist
I had a dream that the sky above the mountains darkened,
but it was just my beloved’s darkening eyes.
I had a dream there was a lightning brightening the skies above those hills,
but it was just my beloved’s cheeks that lightened.
I had a dream in which I saw storm clouds approaching,
but it was just a boy making love to his beloved.
(I Had a Dream, Čechomor)
It was true that Jake and Josh had seen the world, but their trips and explorations were always restricted by time. Everything was scheduled, planned and adjusted to fit the itinerary. Wherever they went, it was – first and foremost – a “business trip”. Sometimes they had days in between shows, oftentimes just hours. Be there on time. We don’t have enough time. You can visit only one of those galleries this time. Maybe next time... They were now rapidly approaching thirty, but haven’t yet experienced the simple joy of backpacking with all its perks and benefits. Freedom being probably the most important of them.
So, when the last show ended and it was time to fly back home, they decided to stay behind for a little while. It was a spontaneous decision, made in Josh’s hotel room after having had one too many beverages with several other people, none of whom shared their enthusiasm. Everyone just wanted to go home. They say there’s nothing like home and it’s true that there had been times when it meant something to the two of them as well, even after months spent away from it. But right now, their beds back home were cold and empty – a sad consequence, as well as a memento, of the lives they’d lived and the things they’d done. Could it have been prevented? Maybe, but what is past is past. It was the present that could and should be taken care of, and there was still the future to be shaped.
Even though the others tried to talk sense into them and nearly succeeded, by 4 am, the two of them finally made up their minds that it was time to really choose the road. “Time to write my own fucking screenplay,” Josh said. After a short nap, they repacked the essentials, said their goodbyes and hopped the train that was supposed to take them to all those yet to be discovered places.
Because it was summertime, last-minute accommodation options were pretty limited in larger cities. That only made it even more exciting, though, and turned out to be quite beneficial in the end. More often than not, they had to share a room that only had one king size bed. Not only they didn’t mind, it seemed as the most natural thing to do, and they welcomed it. Sightseeing or hiking during daylight hours, they didn’t want to part and disappear in their separate dens in the evening, like they did on tour. Touring – with all the rush and stress and boredom – often made them feel lonely.
They knew they had been hurting, they were well aware of the reasons why, but there had not been enough time to come clean about it. So, now, their late night talks often ended with at least one of them crying as the reminiscences of the people who no longer wanted to be part of their lives turned into shared melancholy.
Sharing…that’s what the trip turned out to be really about. Two brothers who once shared a womb, who later forged their mutual dreams about healing humankind through art into their shared destiny. Now they opened up to each other about how much they feared loneliness and lack of love. And it was a shared fear, too. It wouldn't be fair to say that there wasn’t enough love or affection in their lives, on the contrary. They were showered with it in great abundance. Their parents, siblings, other family members and all their numerous friends all loved them dearly and unconditionally, simply because they existed. The plentitude of it, including their mutual love for each other, shaped their personalities and nurtured their souls as they grew up.
That’s how they learned about the importance of love. They knew very well how lucky they were. Forever grateful, they wanted to share it and to pass it on…and then they were told that they didn’t. The reality hit them in their faces like a freight train loaded with reproach.
That’s how they found themselves mourning the kind of love they thought they failed to provide, the one they thought they consequently didn’t deserve. Once they conceded this to each other, they had to face the fact that they felt ashamed. They also had to admit that their own broken hearts still hurt, the raw and barely healed wounds opening up again during those midnight talks. A few times they fell asleep in a comforting embrace.
Wawel Castle, Krakow
“I think we should head back to the hotel.”
When Jake came back from the bathroom, Josh was still leaning over the railings, looking down at the river bend just below the high stone outer wall. He felt so much at peace up here, the fragrant summer air saturated with the scent of trees, damp stone, vanilla ice cream – as well as sudden whiff of ozone – filling his nostrils. They weren’t alone here. The courtyard was still full of people at this time of day, but the humidity muffled all the conversations as well as shrieking kids that were running around, and turned it all into a pleasant hum. It all felt almost dreamlike. Somewhere in the distance, less than a hundred miles further south, were the mountains…
Their adventure was nearing the end, it was their time to fly home the next day. It had rained heavily that morning and the forecast for the whole day promised volatile weather as the fronts collided, but that didn’t stop them. There were still a few places in Krakow which particularly Josh wanted to visit. Not really in a hurry, they went out for early lunch; later they were just idling around in the old town, eating pretzels and doughnuts, drunk on wine. It was almost 5 pm now.
“You're probably right,” Josh finally replied, looking at the sky with a frown, “but I’d really love to stay here a little longer.”
Jake didn’t say anything, just nodded. They stood next to each other for another ten minutes, overlooking the southern part of the city as well as ominous clouds that had formed near the horizon and were now slowly approaching. The wind was rising, playing with their hair, tossing the strands wildly from side to side. They should have been running for shelter by now, but the fresh breeze made them feel completely and utterly reckless. Jake started humming a familiar tune and Josh quickly chimed in:
“But the fool on the hill sees the Sun going down
And the eyes in his head see the world spinning 'round…” …and they bursted out laughing like two madmen as the other people around them scrambled in their feet, looking for a place to hide, girls squeaking as the first raindrops hit the ground.
Now they were running too, heading back to the Old Town, passing crowded restaurants and pubs that didn’t appeal to them anyway. People were running around like ants and the storm clouds and the heavy rain quickly covered the streets in a blanket of semi-darkness. Soon they no longer knew where they were headed. They obviously missed a turn back to the main square and not much later found themselves on a much more quiet and nearly abandoned street that probably wasn’t on a tourist map. The storm hit in full force.
“Not a fucking thunder,” Jake groaned. They were both already absolutely drenched. Trying to find their way back to the hotel in the pouring rain now proved completely futile as they were probably at least a mile away from it anyway, and being no longer in the area of fancy cafés and parfumeries, looking for shelter of any kind wasn’t that easy anymore, either. A small – and already closed – grocery shop here, a tenement doorway there…finally they spotted a pub that looked promising. Both of them craved a beer anyway.
The pub was pretty cozy and warm. It was actually more like a café, only situated below the street level, in the cellar of the building. They sat in silence for a while, but Josh was becoming increasingly restless with each minute, chewing his lip and tapping his fingers on the table.
“Ok, what’s going on,” Jake finally asked.
“I’m staying.”
When it was met with a half-confused, half-annoyed stare, he continued. “I mean, just for two more weeks. I’d like to go hiking.”
The confusion was gone. Jake was just annoyed now. “Explain. Where? Why?”
“The Tatras. A guy told me the other day… You were still asleep, so I went out to have some breakfast. You know, Krishna bistro across the street… The place was already crowded by 9 am so these two guys joined me at my table. They just came from their hiking trip down there and showed me some pictures.They called the place ‘miniature Alps’, so you can’t get lost,” he laughed nervously. “It’s a spur-of-the-moment thing, see? But I feel I need it.”
Jake needed a moment to decompress. This whole trip had been a “spur-of-the-moment thing”...and they did it together. They had also agreed that it was exactly what they needed, so what the fuck is this bullshit? Josh sensed the impending question even before Jake formed the words in his head.
“You still have some work you need to finish before the start or the next leg…but I don’t. That’s why I didn’t tell you before. You’d just try to convince me to go home with you. I know it’s a long flight…I’m sorry Jake, but I really need to do this. For once in my life.”
“It’s insane Josh. And probably dangerous. And it’s mid-season. You probably won’t even find free lodgings. Then what?”
“I already booked it. The guy gave me a tip. Jake…don’t be mad. You know it’s irrational. We’re adults.”
Jake was angry. But he had to agree that it was irrational. They drowned the irrationality in a few more beers and so it happened that the next day, their ways parted. Jake boarded the plane headed for Gatwick while Josh took the train south.
Jake
London, 12:15 pm
The weather improved considerably since yesterday, but I still couldn’t shake off the sense of impending doom. At first I thought that it was just the anxiety I often felt when flying, this time multiplied by the fact that I was completely alone thousands of miles away from home and wouldn’t even get there sooner than the next morning, at the very best. Only to be greeted by my housekeeper, if I were lucky. Then I remembered that since there was no one else there, she also only came on Mondays every other week while I was away, to do the most necessary tasks like making sure that the house wouldn’t be buried under a layer of gray dust when I came back.
However, I landed in London about half an hour ago, downed a beer, had a smoke, but the unpleasant feeling that something bad was about to happen still lingered. I couldn’t put my finger on it, all I knew was that I already missed Josh.
It was completely irrational. We were adults. I had no right to be angry that he stayed behind, but I was. We spent more time together in the last two weeks than we had in over a year. I mean really together, not just next to each other. It was supposed to be our trip, the purpose of which, among other things, was to shake off the growing feeling of loneliness that comes with this lifestyle. So, me being annoyed with him now was perhaps understandable. But anxious? As I said, I hate flying. Having to fly alone sucks and I was about to board a transcontinental plane later that afternoon. I finally convinced myself that anxiety was also understandable. Nothing to be ashamed of…I guess. Still, something seemed off.
Agnieszka
Zakopane, 5:40 am
I checked the weather app again. Yes, definitely a perfect day for a hike. The sky was perfectly clear after yesterday’s storm and the air coming through the open window felt crisp and fresh. With a bit of luck, it would stay that way well until early afternoon, although one could never be sure here.
That’s what I both love and hate about the mountains. Even now, at the age of total control over everything, the mountains are unpredictable, uncontrollable and untamed. Even if we destroyed all the life they harbour, bare and stony valleys would still kill you even more easily if you were bold and arrogant enough to venture too far. Many people come here to conquer the mountain. That’s why we hear the sound of rescue helicopters a few times a week.
Have you ever smelled wet granite? I don’t mean cobblestones or granite walls, but the rough stone, spewed out to the surface of the earth by the untamed power of this planet, broken and twisted with the forces of nature like plasticine…even though a small piece could easily break your skull. There are places here where jagged rock towers a kilometer over your head. When the clouds hang low, try just standing at the bottom of a glacial cirque, surrounded by numerous peaks. It’s a deeply humbling experience. The place literally breathes. You can hear it sing its ominous song and its cold breath can chill you to the bone. These places are indescribably majestic and beautiful…and also scary when you experience the power firsthand.
Dominik was never scared. He loved the mountains very much, but he had lost all his humbleness. This place does not forgive such folly. He fell 500 meters and was probably dead even before his body hit the ground. It took them three more hours to find him. By that time he was already half buried under fresh white snow. They couldn’t save him. It happened in one of those gorgeous, scary places and I never saw him again. I burned my white dress that day.
But that was more than 6 years ago…and I’m still here, taking care of pretty alpinists who come and go, but never stay. Fucking them is convenient. Sometimes, the sensation left by their warm skin pressed against mine lingers longer than I’d deem comfortable and safe, but no one broke my heart again. Mom keeps telling me that my decision to never marry after what happened is breaking hers. She prays for me every Sunday, but she never understood. My father is like a domesticated chamois. A former mountaineer, tamed by a local beauty. Now he spends more time chopping wood and fixing old pipes. He says his knees hurt, but I know he’s happy down here with her. I like men who are just as wild as the wolves running over these hills, but to actually love them is a slow and painful suicide. I barely recovered from the first one. The next would also be the last.
My dad has been a caretaker of Villa Eulalia for as long as I remember, and even before. I grew up here, surrounded by wild nature and the people who tried to monetize it. Later, my parents bought the building and Eulalia became our family business. It’s much more than that, though. It’s home. Surrounded by new, modern and luxurious hotels owned by townspeople who don’t know this place at all, we’re old residents who offer shelter to those searching for peace here.
There are generally two kinds of people who come to Zakopane: vacationers and explorers. We don’t offer nice views, jacuzzis and sparkling wine. We will – however – make you breakfast at 5 am.. Whether you want to explore the hiking trails that belong to all or hidden places in your mind that are your own, we are your people. We are the same.
I couldn’t imagine my life to be any different. I had been climbing these hills since I’d learned to walk. I went to Krakow to get my master’s degree in tourism management, I travelled a bit, made some new friends and even considered some other life options for a while, but I came back eventually. I missed the fresh air and the soapy smell of mountain grass. I needed to be here.
I was also needed here. With my parents getting older and my younger sister having a family of her own in her cozy city home, I became a maid, a receptionist, a cook, a webmaster and an occasional mountain guide. My parents don’t speak English. Well, not much, anyway. They know a few phrases, so they can greet our visitors and ask them about their day, secretly praying that they wouldn’t really want to answer those questions. Most of them don’t…unless they’re young and handsome. Those talk to me, though.
We didn’t have any foreign visitors at first, but later they slowly started coming. It was my sister’s job to take care of them at first, with me being away most of the time back then. But later, with three young kids, she couldn’t – and no longer wanted to – keep doing that any longer. So I came back and took over.
In August, the holiday season is in full swing. I didn’t have a day off since early July and really needed to get out and clear my mind a bit. I can’t stay in town all summer, not when the paradise is literally just a few steps away. This morning seemed like a perfect opportunity. There were no planned checkouts for today, I already managed to get all the rooms for all the new expected guests cleaned and ready the day before and most of them were locals, with one Slovak family arriving later in the afternoon. Dad should be able to take care of that.
While I was sipping my morning coffee, I checked the mailbox one last time just to be sure everything would be taken care of while I was away, only to discover there were two new last minute reservations. Kováčová…some Slovak lady with two more people who wouldn’t arrive until later in the afternoon, room 8. That one’s also ready. I vacuum-cleaned it two days ago. So, that should be OK. Aaand, the attic room for…some Kiszka. Perfect. I took one last sip, grabbed my backpack and was ready to go.
Agnieszka wasn’t in a hurry, knowing too well that her muscles would hurt like hell the next day if she didn’t take it easy. She was fit enough to set a much faster pace, but this was not a workout. Not today. In mid august, the former sheep pastures in Hala Gasienicowa were in full bloom and covered in violet. It was also a rather steep route that led there so even though she reached the place at half past nine, she could already feel a familiar burning sensation in her calves.
This was a perfect place for late breakfast. Yesterday’s wind was gone and once she got past the tree line, the sun was already high up in the sky, warming her skin enough to let her shed all the unnecessary layers of clothing. “Bathing in the breeze” was her favourite pastime. There was no better way to describe it. It was also still early enough to be able to enjoy the calmness of this place, which would be buzzing with life only an hour or so later as more people arrived.
It was already past noon when she reached the borderline ridge at a beautiful spot called “Lily Saddle” that separated High and Western Tatras – her final destination for the day. Most people aim for peaks, but she always loved mountain saddles and ridge routes. Reaching them wasn’t easy. You always had to overcome steep, rocky and often exposed tracks to get there. By the time you reached the saddle, you were high on endorphins and adrenaline, your whole body overheated from exertion, only to be greeted by icy wind that kept rumbling up there even during the hottest days of the year, sometimes tossing you from side to side like a rag doll. It was like falling in love…
She usually felt at peace here, even when she had to literally wrestle with the element. Not today. Today, she felt agitated. It started further down the road and intensified exponentially as she reached the saddle. She contemplated going further west along the ridge to calm her nerves a bit, when her telephone rang. It took her a while to find it in her bag, but the caller seemed super determined.
“Dad?”
“Neszka, where are you? An American just arrived… Apparently, he’s got a reservation. I need to house him.”
That must have been a mistake, she went through the reservations. Someone probably arrived at the wrong hotel. There were several of them called Villa Something Something in Zakopane…
“Daddy, that’s impossible. I double checked. We’re expecting a small German group on Saturday, but otherwise no foreign guests.”
“I’m not making this up. He’s here in front of me and I see him in our reservation system as well.”
“Name?”
“Joshua Kiszka.”
Fuck… That was probably why she felt so uneasy? Never underestimate your gut. Her subconsciousness knew she fucked up.
“Ok, get him on the phone.” She took a deep breath, expecting an outpouring of anger, the person on the other side berating her and demanding an explanation. Some people had the weirdest reasons for complaints and refund reasons, and this situation clearly was her fault.
Instead, the voice belonging to a young man sounded amused. He, too, tried to explain the situation he found himself in, even though there was no need for him to explain anything. With the wind gushing and roaring around and the service being shitty up here, she couldn’t even hear him properly, so – after what she hoped was the most heartfelt apology she could deliver – she tried to make it as brief as possible.
“Ok, listen, my father – that’s the man you tried to talk to – my dad will show you your room. Just…. make yourself comfortable, there’s a large garden behind the villa and free beverages in the fridge outside your room… You will find it with ease… And I’ll be there in three hours at the very worst. Then I’ll show you around and will tell you everything you need to know.”
“Don’t worry. I haven’t slept much at night so I’ll probably just take a nap. All I need is a bed to lie on…if it’s ready,” he chuckled again.
Fuck. With that, she took a few big gulps of water and started descending.
It was past four in the afternoon when she got back home, hot and sweating and out of breath, but the shower could wait. She stopped briefly by the kitchen to ask dad how well it went and then headed straight to the attic floor, taking stairs two at a time. She knocked on the door and…nothing. She had to repeat it two more times – at least it gave her the opportunity to catch her breath – before the door finally creaked open.
“Hey, I’m so sorry I kept you waiti…oh!”
The man who answered the door was unlike anything she had expected. He was approximately the same height as her, slender, not overly muscular but still well toned. She could tell quite easily, because he was in fact naked from the waist up, rubbing his sleepy eyes and smiling at her while still trying to shake off the post nap confusion.
She didn’t realize that she was staring until he spoke, and took a few steps back inside the room, basically letting her in. “Uh, oh, sorry, it’s a bit hot here under the roof, he chuckled again as he picked up a basic t-shirt from the floor and pulled it over his head. “And you must be the charming lady I spoke to on the phone earlier?”
He looked like someone straight from DaVinci’s painting…if DaVinci lived in some arty, boho community instead of a 15th century Milan: fine features, rosy cheeks, kind yet mysterious eyes, plump lips and soft curls with trimmed sides and a messy braid that ended between his shoulder blades, decorated with a tiny shell.
“Uuuh, yeah, yes, that’s me. I tried to get here as soon as possible, but it took longer than I expected and…”
“Please, don’t apologize. I see you went hiking. So cool! It must have been absolutely fabulous up there today. You must certainly give me some tips. Where to go, what to see... I heard how beautiful it is here. Saw some pictures too. But I’ve never been here, so I absolutely don’t know what to expect. I will need to buy some clothes and other essentials as well, this was a last minute decision. I helped myself to a beverage from that fridge, by the way. I hope it’s ok. I had peach iced tea…,” he kept on rambling as he tried to clean up the room that already looked lived-in even though he had been here for only a few hours.
She watched him, completely bewildered. But she already liked him. He was cute and wild and kind of sexy. Strange, but with a pretty face. Two weeks. He’s alone…yeah, and you’re sweaty, red faced and you stink, you idiot!
“…me around?”
She realized he was still talking, when put her back to earth. “What?” That chuckle again…
“You told me you’d show me around. I got my key, I know where the drinks are, I saw the garden, it’s fanTAStic, by the way…so, what else do I need to know?” he asked cheekily.
That put her back into her professional mode. She explained that she wouldn’t clean the room more that once a week unless he would specifically ask her to do so, privacy being held in high regard here…; she showed him where to find extra toilet paper and fresh towels, where to throw the dirty ones; she showed him the kitchen he had to share with several other rooms, told him about free tea and coffee and that he shouldn’t bother with washing the dishes, he should just leave them in the sink and she would take care of it. She also told him where to buy everything he needed and she had to bite her lip a few times when he absentmindedly touched her arm.
Later in the early evening, Agnieszka still couldn't shake off that unfamiliar restlessness she felt back up on the ridge. It lay heavy on her chest, compressing her lungs. She tried to read, but it was no use. Reading was a distraction fit for dark and rainy evenings, but the cloudless sky didn’t want the night to take over just yet. Even here, among steep hills where the sun sets early, the skies were still ultramarine blue and… vast.
The warm light on her bedside table wasn’t enough to disperse the magic of the blue hour. Instead of trying to reread the same paragraph for the third time, she put the book down and opened the window to let the cool and fragrant air in.
As soon as the scent of pines and freshly mown grass hit her nostrils, she also heard a soft hum coming from below. Looking down, she saw him sitting on a wooden garden table, with his feet on the bench. He had his back to her, sipping beer, his fingers rapping on the withered wood. He was also the source of that slow melody.
It reminded her of Dominik. He used to sit by the fireside, farther back in the garden. His guitar was often out of tune and people made fun of him, but he always just smiled and continued to play. It often baffled her that he didn’t mind, because it sounded awful, and he must have heard it. The man could sing!
Apparently, so could Joshua, but it was something completely different. Dominik’s voice was low and thick, and when he hummed her favourite songs, such as Sad Eyes, it often made her drowsy. Joshua sounded like the girls singing old local folk songs about dying from a broken heart. She had never heard anything like that. He sang silently, as he obviously did not want to disturb the calmness of dusk, as well as other guests behind their own open windows. Yet it made her heart flutter in her throat.
She watched, entranced, how his breath animated the muscles of his lean back, covered only in sheer white cotton in spite of the air getting increasingly chillier with every passing minute.
Agnieszka tried to lean out the window a bit more, which made the shutter crash against the wall, causing him to look her way. She panicked and ducked under the sill. Realizing how childish it must have appeared, she slowly straightened and saw him still looking in her direction, smiling. He gestured to the second can of beer standing on the table next to him and silently motioned her to join him.
She took a deep breath and nodded. She grabbed her cardigan, closed the window and went out to join him, oblivious to the fact that the way down the stairs and out the back entrance which led straight to the garden was in reality a steep, rocky road to ruin.
@writingcold @its-interesting-van-kleep @takenbythemadness @jakekiszkasbuttsweat @fleet-of-fiction @edgingthedarkness @thewritingbeforesunrise @myownparadise96 @lvnterninthenight
...and because you reblogged the teaser, this might interest you, too: @klarxtr @jakesleftankle @itsafullmoon @woyayaofdreams @pasionatematty @zoelle16 @tripthelightfantastix
This is just for now. Let me know if you'd like to be added to the taglist.
#greta van fleet#gvf#josh kiszka#josh gvf#jake kiszka#jake gvf#greta van fleet fanfiction#greta van fleet fanfic#gvf fanfiction#gvf fanfic#Spotify
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i genuinely don't care how good a piece of ai generated art or writing looks on the surface. i don't care if it emulates brush strokes and metaphor in a way indistinguishable from those created by a person.
it is not the product of thoughtful creation. it offers no insights into the creator's life or viewpoint. it has no connection to a moment in time or a place or an attitude. it has no perspective. it has no value.
it's empty, it's hollow, and it exists only to generate clicks (and by extension, ad revenue.)
it's just another revolting symptom of the disease that is late stage capitalism, and it fucking sucks.
#''but i just want to use it to--'' don't care! it's shit! stop fucking feeding it!#if you need help generating ideas or jumping off points then join an artist or writer group online#talk to people#make connections#that's what art and writing is supposed to be about in the first place#i'm mad as hell etc.#so goddamn sick and tired of seeing ai shit get passed around on here#it's bad enough in general but every time i see more of it showing up#tagged as fan art or as fic#the angrier i get#heartfelt imperfection in art and writing will always ALWAYS be worth more than the most technically ''perfect'' ai generated image or text#fandom problems#ai generation algorithms die in a fire challenge 2k23#just a heads up that i'm muting this post and will no longer see responses to it#because i'm tired of seeing dogshit takes from jackasses who want to ''debate'' me#there's no debate you're in the wrong on literally every level and you can die mad about it
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the new supereyep*tchwolf video about Attempting To Be Popular Online (here) made me cry rip
#chari.txt#probably won’t have the energy to write anything longer about it but that stuff is why i've all but quit twitter#awful platform where it’s impossible to protect yourself from the ‘’performance’’ of your ‘’content’’#even on what’s supposed to be a fun fandom account... exacerbated all of my preexisting personal issues that made me want#to achieve '''popularity''' in the first place#and that negatively affected my ability to draw art too#tumblr isn't Great for forming friendships and community but it's easier for me to exist on w/o stress :(
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ミ the mightiest
part one | part two
🍓 pairing: neteyam x human fem reader
🍓tags: nsfw, aged up neteyam (obviously), jealousy, alien cultural misunderstandings, oral sex (f receiving) vaginal sex, size kink, voyeurism, brief na'vi oc x reader, mentions of reader sleeping with other na'vi men
masterlist
reblogs are always enormously appreciated!
notes: adult neteyam art created by the incredibly talented @cinetrix, whose work motivated me to write for adult neteyam in the first place!!
It was just a fluke, you tell yourself. A moment of weirdness that had come about because… because…
Okay, so you can’t really explain it.
You don’t like Neteyam! You never have! The sight of him appearing while you’re mid-rendezvous with Txetyo (the same man he had interrupted you with only a few days before!) should have sent you into an angry tailspin. And yet, you can’t forget the pulse of excitement that had throbbed low in your belly when you realised that he was standing there watching you.
Really, you should have been the one to speak up. But it was like your brain had switched off, like all your rational thoughts had gone on a temporary leave of absence; why else would you have stayed silent instead of stopping Txetyo and drawing attention to Neteyam’s presence?
Just like after your last confusing encounter with Neteyam in the healing hut, you end up sticking close to the human outpost for the next week.
It’s probably a little cowardly to hide instead of facing your problems head on, but you don’t care. You avoid Neteyam, you avoid Txetyo, you avoid any of the guys you’ve had flings with before because even the sight of them reminds you of what had happened that night in the forest. Inevitably, that leads to you avoiding the village entirely.
The outpost is as boring as ever, but it’s better than facing the mortification that’s no doubt awaiting you in the village. But at the very least, it’s not lonely.
Spider is kind enough to keep you company in the outpost for the first few days, though you quickly wish he wouldn’t. There’s not much to do, and Spider never deals well with boredom.
“Quit that.” You grit out, your eyes sliding sideways.
Spider is sitting next to you, drumming his fingers insistently on his thighs. He sighs, rolling his eyes up towards the ceiling and leaning back on the lumpy couch you’re both sprawled on.
“This is mind-numbing.” He complains, throwing his dirty bare feet over your thighs. “It’s so boring here. I don’t think I’ve ever spent this much time inside in my whole life.”
“You don’t have to be here.” You remind him, shoving his feet off you.
Spider sighs, swinging his legs back to the ground so he can sit up properly. “Right, sure. I could leave you here alone to mope all day by yourself in your dank little bedroom. Or you could tell me what’s going on with you.”
You grumble, and avert your eyes. Okay, so maybe your avoidance has been a little more obvious than you had intended. You’ve barely missed a day in the village your whole life, and yet in the last two weeks you’ve spent most of your time hiding out in the outpost.
“Nothing’s going on.” You say, and it rings hollow even to your own ears.
Spider purses his lips. He seems pointedly unconvinced, and stretches back on the couch with his arms across the back of the headrest.
“So it has nothing to do with whatever the hell happened when you went off with Txetyo during the hunt celebrations?”
You almost wince, but manage to keep your expression neutral as you stare at your knees. “Nope.”
Spider hums. “And I suppose the fact that Neteyam very conspicuously disappeared into the forest about ten seconds after you left is also unrelated.”
That cracks your composure, and you take a shaky breath as you glance sideways at Spider’s face. He doesn’t look like he’s judging you or anything; he’s just waiting patiently for your answer, a single eyebrow raised.
“I don’t wanna talk about it.” You mutter, avoiding his eyes.
There’s a long pause, and then Spider huffs out a sigh and tilts his head back to stare at the water-stained ceiling up above you. You feel a little bad about keeping secrets from him; usually you and Spider act as each other’s confidants by virtue of the fact that the two of you are humans the same age amongst all the Na’vi. But this whole mess with Neteyam is something that you’re struggling to wrap your own head around – you don’t want to start explaining the whole mortifying ordeal to someone who was as good as your brother.
“Lo’ak’ll get it out of you.” Spider says confidently.
You groan, covering your face with your hands. “Please tell me he’s not coming over.”
“He’s worried.” Spider protests. “You’ve been acting super weird, dude.”
“He’s nosey.” You correct.
Spider shrugs, unable to argue that point. “Well, whatever.”
It’s as if speaking his name summons him, because the shoddy linoleum floor creaks behind you as a big nine-feet-tall body steps into the room. You catch a glimpse of bright blue skin out of the corner of your eye and groan, tipping your head back against the back of the couch and closing your eyes.
“Seriously, I am not in the mood to be interrogated by the Idiot Brigade today.” You complain. “Can’t you come back and bother me another time?”
There’s a pause. And then, a low voice filled with amusement says, “Am I a member of this “idiot brigade?”
That is not Lo’ak’s voice.
For a moment, you don’t even turn around. You just breathe slowly, your eyes shut tight. Maybe if you don’t turn and look, Neteyam will just vanish from your presence as if he had never spoken at all.
But instead of Neteyam’s spontaneous disappearance, you get Spider shifting on the lumpy couch beside you before climbing to his feet. Your eyes shoot open at that, and your head whips around to stare at him in disbelief.
“Where are you going?” You hiss, already reaching out after him.
Spider stops, hesitates, his eyes flicking between you and Neteyam. He looks as though he would rather be literally anywhere other than here; you know the feeling.
“Uh… I’m gonna go find Lo’ak.” Spider mutters, his eyes darting around cagily. “Seems like you two probably need time to talk some things out.”
Before you can even protest that, Neteyam is stepping forward, marching his way around the couch. You sit up, properly startled now, realising that your window for escape is rapidly narrowing.
“Tell Lo’ak not to come.” Neteyam says simply, stepping nimbly around the couch so that he’s in front of you. It’s like he knows that you were thinking of an escape, because he tilts his head as a subtle smile tugs at his mouth.
“Yeah. Got it.” Spider sounds a little strangled, sending you a look that you can’t quite decipher before turning and scampering out the door, letting it slide shut behind him with a quiet thud.
You stare at him for a long moment, your mouth hanging open like a moron. Neteyam just stares back, his expression even, as though he’s waiting for you to speak first.
You swallow thickly, then push yourself up so that you’re standing. It’s a weak attempt to put yourself on a more even level with him, but it fails as you find yourself eye-level with his damn belly button.
“What are you doing here?” You snap, though it comes out a little weaker than you had intended.
Neteyam doesn’t answer immediately. Instead he gingerly lowers himself down onto the ancient lumpy couch that you and Spider had commandeered for yourselves from the desolate wreckage of Bridgehead. He’s almost comically large for it, his knees bent awkwardly up as he settles back, the springs creaking ominously.
“You have been avoiding the village.” He says simply.
And… oh god, you can’t stop staring. It’s stupid, because you’ve known Neteyam your whole life, you know what he looks like. But it’s like your eyes are taking him in differently now. You hadn’t spent much time with him as kids; you were always chasing after Lo’ak, Kiri, and Spider, and Neteyam usually maintained a distance as he trained under the guidance of his parents. And then he was gone, departed for the reef villages, only to return after the worst of the war years had passed.
But it’s different now. He’s a man, his shoulders broader than ever and his muscles more defined than is typical of the Omaticaya warriors – no doubt thanks to his time in the reefs with the bulkier Metkayina.
Your mouth is a little dry; it’s not a good time to be reminded that you find big, muscly Na’vi men really, really attractive.
“Yeah.” You say, your voice scratchy. “Uh… I’ve been busy.”
Neteyam’s hairless brow raises in an unspoken gesture of doubt as he leans back into the couch. Your eyes dart down nervously over his abdomen. Each sculpted abdominal muscle speaks of his physical prowess and the sheer discipline and dedication to his training, and his slim waist is accentuated by the woven battle band around his waist. Fuck, you want to touch his belly.
You can hardly believe that you had this man’s cock in your hand, or that he had been grunting and fucking your fist. Maybe you had hallucinated that. Looking at him like this, taking in his big amber eyes and strong jawline and high cheekbones, you’re reminded rather harshly of just why he’s one of the most sought-after men in the village by the unmated Omaticaya girls. It seems unlikely that he’d ever lower himself to allow himself to be touched by you.
And yet, you know you hadn’t hallucinated him standing only mere feet from you in the forest, watching intently as Txetyo had railed you into the mossy ground.
As if he knows what you’re thinking, Neteyam speaks again. “Avoiding Txetyo? I do not blame you.
You almost choke at that. Good lord, the audacity of this man. He knows perfectly well that you’ve also been trying to avoid him, judging by the smug look on his face.
“No! He- he wasn’t so bad.” You protest, though the words ring unconvincingly in your own ears.
“Tawtute, you’re so tight!” Neteyam gasps mockingly, lowering his voice into a dude-bro register that decidedly does not sound like Txetyo. “Fuck, you’re so wet, I’m gonna cum—"
You squawk, hastily stepping forward to swat ineffectually at his shoulder. “Will you shut up, that’s not what–“
Neteyam grabs at your wrist when you smack his shoulders, his long fingers wrapping all the way around you before tugging. You stagger, pulled off balance as he tugs you onto the couch beside him. You end up with your limbs in an ungainly sprawl as you attempt to collect yourself beside him, flustered behind belief. He doesn’t let go of your wrist.
“And he– he made me finish, so.” You say lamely. You’re sitting next to him. Why are you sitting next to him? You should be trying to shove him up off the couch and shoo him out the door.
“I’m pretty sure you made yourself come.” Neteyam corrects, his head tilting. His glossy braids spill over his shoulders, colourful beads clicking together. “Which wouldn’t have happened if I wasn’t there, by the way.”
“Excuse me?”
“Just pointing out the obvious.” Neteyam’s smug little grin is growing, and he leans in a little closer. “I don’t think you were enjoying it at all until I showed up.”
You gape at him, stunned.
“I- you-!” You stammer, your breath catching from the sheer swell of your indignation. Who does he think he is, showing up here all muscled and gorgeous like this only to embarrass you?
“Speak for yourself!” You finally manage to splutter, trying to sit up on the couch; Neteyam’s grip on your wrist prevents you from going too far, so you give up and resign yourself to being stuck beside him until he grows bored of tormenting you. “Txetyo was– That was pretty much par for the course. I mean– it wasn’t unusual, sometimes that’s just how sex goes–“
Neteyam sits up straight, so suddenly that it startles you. His brow is furrowed, his eyes flicking rapidly over your face as though he’s trying to assess if you’re being honest.
He’s… he’s leaning in rather close to you. You blink at him, but don’t move back. It’s so rare for you to be around Neteyam without your respirator mask acting like a shield over your face, and you feel a little naked now without it.
“That was a standard experience for you?” He asks, and his voice has… changed a little. That smug amusement on his face has vanished, replaced with what looks like bewilderment.
You scoff at his surprise, rolling your eyes. “Shouldn’t you know what my standard experience is? You’ve interrupted enough of them.”
He doesn’t respond to your snarky remark. He just stares at you as if he’s examining you, and you shift awkwardly on the couch, unsure in the face of his scrutiny.
“What, you’re surprised that all men aren’t sex gods?” You ask a little testily. “They want to experiment with a Sky Person, and I like sex with Na’vi men, so… win-win.”
Neteyam just frowns, pulling back a little. “No, that’s not… I don’t understand. Why do you spend time with them if they are not successful in pleasuring you?”
Boy, is that a loaded question. You don’t want to explain to Neteyam that it’s not really about sex, that it’s more about a pathological need for physical connection and comfort, especially when you try your very hardest not to think about it yourself.
“Maybe I’m just hoping one of them will really impress me.” You mumble, a little sourly. “I guess I’ll keep holding out hope.”
Neteyam’s ears flatten, pressing low against his head as his eyes widen a little. He shifts, his body looming over you like a big blue behemoth as the couch springs squeal beneath his weight.
“I could.” He says. “Impress you, I mean.”
You snort, glancing up at him with a wry sort of smile that falls off your face almost immediately when you see the look on Neteyam’s face. His expression is perfectly earnest, his jaw set and his pupils dilated with an odd sort of urgency that you’ve never seen from him. He… he doesn’t look as though he’s making fun of you at all.
“What?” You croak, blinking.
And then you realise what all this about. Neteyam is always so determined to prove himself, to be the best at everything. He’s always pushed himself beyond his limits and worked himself to the bone to be stronger and faster and wiser, to be a better leader and a better hunter and a better fighter. You probably shouldn’t even be surprised that now he’s decided to prove that he’s better than his peers at fucking you, too.
“This is just a competition for you, isn’t it?” You scoff, yanking your wrist out of his hand. He shifts forward on the couch then as though preparing to catch you if you move to run, but you’re not making any move to leave.
“No. They are not worthy competitors.” Neteyam scoffs as if the question is absurd. “This is to prove to you that you have been wasting your time with men who are not capable of pleasing you.”
You scoff again, but it’s a much weaker sound this time. “I–”
“You have bad taste in men, paskalin.” Neteyam murmurs, shuffling closer on the ancient couch.
You stare up at him, your breath catching a little in your chest. God, he’s so much bigger than you. You hate that it’s making your body heat up, and you feel yourself growing wet as he leans in close, smelling like fresh water and the forest.
“Are you going to let me?” Neteyam whispers, reaching out to trace a finger along your jawline. “Let me prove myself.”
You should say no. You should tell him to leave, to get out. You should absolutely not feed into his own ego by fucking him.
“Yes,” You breathe stupidly. “Okay.”
You’re expecting him to grab you immediately and flip you around onto either your back or stomach; in all your previous experiences, you’ve gotten right down to it with your partners. But to your surprise, Neteyam leans in and holds your hips with his big hands as he presses his mouth to yours in a kiss.
Kissing is not something that you’re used to; the Na’vi you’ve hooked up with have stayed clear of the human outpost, unlike the Sully kids who had paid frequent visits, which means that all of your sexual encounters have occurred in the forest or in empty corners in the village with your respirator mask firmly attached to your face.
Now your face feels naked and vulnerable, and you gasp shakily against Neteyam’s mouth when he leans in and kisses you firmly.
It’s slow and deep, at first. All-consuming. It lights a fire in your gut, which expands and spreads throughout your body.
Neteyam doesn’t just kiss with his mouth, either. He kisses with his hands, his whole body. He clutches you to him, holding you close even as the force of his kiss bends you backward, your body pressing into the raggedy couch cushions.
At the same time, it’s all you can do to concentrate and respond to the kiss itself, your attention stretched and strained by the feeling of Neteyam’s hands running over you, stroking your sides and clutching your neck and squeezing your ass.
“Hah,” You gasp out when Neteyam’s lips slide sideways to find the corner of your jaw. His mouth is hot against your skin, bruising, and you’re embarrassingly wet already, just from a little kissing.
Fuck, he’s a good kisser. That’s so annoying.
You run out of breath too fast, and you have to gasp. Neteyam breaks the kiss for barely even a second, and shifts some of his weight to his elbows as he follows you down onto the couch, nuzzling and nipping at your jaw before returning to your mouth.
There’s a hand on either side of your head during that blink-and-you-miss-it break in the kiss, but then he moves his big hands to hold onto your face like they’re afraid you’ll escape, and now they don’t want to let go at all. One of his hands cups your jaw, the other clasping around the back of your neck and tilting your head farther back, deeper into the couch, opening you up. You think about the fact that he can thread his fingers together behind your head with his palms pressed to your cheeks and nearly moan like a whore into his mouth.
Neteyam’s eagerness surprises you. The kiss is messy and graceless and airless and greedy, frantic and full of teeth, and you can only roll your hips in reflex, in mindless desperation, in a feeble attempt to buck, your mind repeating a refrain of yes holy shit holy shit YES. You can’t even squirm, because holy hot fuck Neteyam is heavy, and he’s got every inch of you covered and owned.
God, have you always been this easy? Just kiss you, feel you up a little and want you enough and you’ll end up happily whimpering under someone on the couch? Even someone like Neteyam, who you’ve been so resentful of for so long?
You spread your thighs, and Neteyam’s narrow hips slot into place like a damn puzzle piece. Neteyam hums a small laugh and pauses, pulls back an inch or so, gazing steadily at your lips and smoothing the tips of his thumbs back and forth over your cheekbones. He takes a moment to fumble with his respirator and takes a deep breath before dropping it and leaning down to kiss you again.
“Oh, fuck.” You whimper, your eyes fluttering shut when his hips roll fluidly against you.
You pull back from the kiss, just enough to get a look at his face. His eyes are a little clouded, his lips puffy and spit-slicked. He looks dazed, and there's a thin line of saliva connecting your mouths together. His brow scrunches in a frown, as though you pulling away from him is a personal offence.
Oh god, you think. I'm so fucked.
The hand that had been cupping your cheek releases you, slides down your body as well. Your breath hitches when he passes over your breasts, drags down the plush skin of your belly, before reaching in between your thighs to cup at your pussy over your clothes. His hand tightens, grabbing you. Cunt, pubic bone, the whole shebang, all of it right there in the palm of Neteyam’s shockingly big hand.
“Bedroom.” You gasp, your head spinning as he just holds your cunt over your denim shorts. “Bedroom now.”
Neteyam grins, and wraps his arms around your waist to haul you into his arms before he lifts you off the couch and practically staggers down the hall. His excitement surprises you, and you cling to his neck as he ducks his way through the corridor.
Mercifully the outpost is quiet today, with most of its human occupants out in the forest or in the village – that means there’s no one around the witness the sight of Neteyam’s enormous blue ass squeezing himself in through the small doorway of the closet-like bedroom you’d claimed for yourself, with you dangling from his arms like a doll.
You’re still breathing hard when Neteyam clumsily gets the door shut before placing you on your squeaky old bed, following you down on it. He’s careful not to crush you with the bulk of his body, instead resting his weight on his forearms where they’re planted on either side of your head.
The consideration makes something squirm in your belly, and you reach up to intertwine your fingers at the back of his head and pull him down to resume kissing him.
Neteyam rolls his hips into yours, and you can feel the thick ridge of his erection pressing into the seam of your shorts, right over your clit. The sound you make is absolutely humiliating, and you will deny ever making it until your last breath, but you twitch as you try to catch that exact same friction again.
And fuck, kissing like this may be new to you, but you never want to stop. You didn’t even know that kissing with tongue could feel so erotic; Neteyam’s hands are on your face again, angling you this way and that way and however the fuck Neteyam feels like angling you, and goddamn he must be doing it just because he can.
You try desperately to remember any little kissing tricks you’ve learned and draw a pathetic blank. Luckily, Neteyam seems intent on showing off. His creativity is more than enough to occupy you both, and you’re too busy being excruciatingly horny to really be self-conscious anyway.
Besides, your next exhale is a chest-rattling groan, and if Neteyam’s immediate grunt of approval and slow thirsty grind against your trapped body is any indication, then you're doing just fine by his standards.
But then, to your absolute distress, Neteyam pulls away.
“Hhh — Shit! Shit, hang on. Shit.” Neteyam hisses, turning his face away and levering himself up on his arms. He’s breathing hard, and the sound of the English curse words falling out of his mouth in that strained tone of voice has your thighs squeezing together pathetically.
“What?” You ask, your voice sounding dazed and stupid even to your own ears.
Neteyam huffs out a few centering breaths and then shakes out his head to clear it. He fumbles for the respirator, takes several deep gulps of air before dropping it again. He angles his hips away from you for a moment, breathing steadily.
“Why’d you stop?” You hate the way the words come out as a whine; you feel as though you’re losing your mind, as though you’re actually going to die if he doesn’t keep kissing you.
Neteyam breathes out a quiet laugh, sounding a little disbelieving as he drops his forehead down to rest on your shoulder.
“Fuck.” He whispers, but he doesn’t answer your question. Instead, he pushes himself down your body, sliding between your legs.
When he tugs your shorts, you lift your hips eagerly to help him shuck your pants off. As he’s tugging at your panties, you work on yanking your oversized pyjama shirt off you. It feels as though the two of you are descending into a frenzy, touching and kissing and tearing at each other like animals.
When you’re naked beneath him you shiver, staring up at him in eager anticipation. You wait for him to come back up and kiss you, to take his own loincloth off and stick his cock into you, but he doesn’t. Instead, his head bullies its way in between your thighs.
“No,” You whine, making a face. You don’t want him to waste time with eating you out when you’re ready now. “Just put it in.”
Neteyam shoots you a reproachful look as though he thinks you’re acting crazy. “You said you would let me please you.”
“But–” You frown, feeling a little ridiculous for having this conversation when his big head is blinking up at you from between the pudge of your thighs. “You don’t have to. I don’t enjoy getting head all that much anyway.”
But instead of changing his mind, that just makes him snort as though you’d told a damn joke.
“Let me show you, syulang.” He whispers, turning his head and brushing his lip over the soft skin of your inner thigh. He kisses you there, and then sucks a hickey-like bruise into the squidge there.
And damn, you can’t turn him down.
“Fine.” You sigh, a little irritated, and spread your legs wider so that Neteyam can muscle his way in.
He grins as if he knows something you don’t, grabs your legs and pulls them so your thighs are hanging off his big broad shoulders. You can feel his warm breath ghosting over you between your legs, and you prepare to lie back and let him lick you down there until he deems you’re wet enough to start fucking you properly.
But then he actually gets his mouth on you, and… oh. Oh.
You tilt your head back, staring at the ceiling with wide eyes. That feels… better than you had expected, actually.
Each of Neteyam’s movements are calculated, precise. He laps against your clit, then closes his lips and sucks. You nearly yelp, but manage to tamp down on your reaction and merely wheeze instead. Neteyam points his tongue and presses inside of you, sucks and licks like he’s actually eating something. At one point, he even bites, and you jerk so hard that you accidentally grind against his face.
It’s not like any of the head you have ever received. You’ve enjoyed it before, sure, but it’s never felt like this, and it’s definitely never made you come. And yet, to your honest surprise, you can feel a familiar coil of tension beginning to build deep in your abdomen.
“Oh god.” You breathe, sounding a little bewildered.
You feel his tongue against your clit again, hardly noticing that his hands are gripping at your ass until he yanks you forward as he buries his whole damn face between your legs. His fingers return, delving into you, deep and searching. His mouth works against your clit and it feels like you’re being squeezed between the kinds of pleasure, worshipped and wrung out and attacked all at once.
“Neteyam,” You gasp like a fool. “Oh, what the fuck, it– Neteyam, hang on, it’s too–”
Neteyam is still devouring you, sucking hard and persistent until you cry out. You try to clench your thighs around his head as he laps at you like a man starved, but his hands are still on your thighs, locking you in an iron grip, keeping you spread wide for him, and you can hardly breath because every time you think to try and take a breath his tongue is moving over your clit again and he’s sucking against you.
Your head swims, and you wonder why on earth you had been so resistant to allow him to make you feel good like this. Fuck, have you just been getting really bad head this whole time? You didn’t even know it could feel like this.
Your heels are digging into his back, and the closer he brings you to the edge the harder your thighs clamp around his head. He barely seems to notice the force you’re exerting, merely groaning to himself everytime you squeeze tighter.
Your thoughts splinter and unravel, and you can do nothing but buck uselessly against his hold, desperately chasing more of his lips and his tongue.
“Oh god, oh god, oh god.” You chant, eyes squeezed shut tight as you whine.
He's just so good with his tongue, and you’ve never felt like this in your life. It feels as though you can't breathe properly, as though you’re melting from the inside out. None of those awkward, fumbling sexual encounters with those other Na’vi ever had you feeling like this.
Your breasts are heaving with the effort it takes just to breathe through the white hot pleasure crashing through you, and you stare down at him with wide eyes as he suckles again at your clit. When he sees you looking down at him, he throws you a cheeky wink as he laps at you.
You let out a helpless, gasping laugh at him, your hands clenching compulsively in his braids. Your giggle has him pulling back a little so he can look up at you properly; the grin he shoots you is extra shiny thanks to the fact that the lower half of his face is covered in his spit and your own slick, but he looks dopey and happy.
You manage one word, on a long and broken moan- “Please!”
Neteyam laughs quietly, the sound vibrating through his lips and into your pussy, but then his tongue is on your clit again, sucking you into his mouth, and you’re shattering around him as he finally pushed you over that edge you’ve been teetering on.
You keen and shake violently, spasming around Neteyam’s fingers and jerking into his mouth, coming so hard that you see black spots in your vision. Neteyam doesn’t let up, pulling broken moans out of you with tongue until you’re writhing.
You squirm and whimper until suddenly it’s too damn much, and then you’re reaching down to push at Neteyam’s neat braids to try to get away from his relentless tongue. Damn, he’s acting like he’s hungry for you, like he’d swallow you whole if he could. He doesn’t let up until you’re begging him to, albeit wordlessly — whimpering and shoving at his face, trying to arch away from the too-sensitive touch.
Finally, Neteyam relents. He lowers your legs from his shoulders and you practically crumple, going limp against your mattress. Neteyam’s face is wet and shiny, and he looks ridiculously smug. You’re still trembling, throbbing with the aftershocks.
“Mm, you sound so pretty.” Neteyam murmurs, his words coming out muffled and almost slurred as though he’s drunk.
“Fuck.” You whisper to yourself, staring at the ceiling with wide eyes as you struggle to catch your breath.
Neteyam hums, pressing kisses all over your pubic mound and lower belly. He seems so damn pleased with himself, pushing himself up your body so that he can nuzzle into your neck, pressing sweet nipping kisses to your throat.
His breathing is a little strained, and you grab blindly at the respirator hanging around his neck before bringing the mask up to his face.
“Breathe, Neteyam.” You gasp out, still a little breathless yourself.
He grunts, as though irritated over something of secondary importance, and takes a couple of deep breaths before dropping the mask again. His pupils are blown so wide that his iris is barely visible, just a thin ring of gold around a pool of black.
You laugh, panting and overwhelmed at the sight of his shiny face, and reach up to wipe his slick face with the palms of your hands. He huffs a quiet laugh of his own, turning his face towards your hands and nuzzling against you like an oversized cat.
“That was… that was better than I expected.” You say, still struggling to collect yourself.
Neteyam’s smile turns a little sly, his teeth flashing as he kisses at your palms. “Impressed?”
And you can’t help but laugh at that, feeling as though this whole situation is spinning around far beyond your wildest imagination. Fuck, he’s really giving his all to this, just to prove to you that he’s superior to the other men of the clan.
“Not yet.” You whisper, biting your lip and hoping that he takes it as the challenge/invitation you mean it to be.
And luckily he does, his smile only growing.
“I should keep going then.” He murmurs, his hands stroking up your sides.
He gently caresses both breasts, a little knead of big, rough hands that can cover much more than just one tit and you love it. Your back arches as you shiver, revelling in how bizarrely gentle he’s being with you.
“Yes,” You whisper eagerly, your legs spreading further until the muscles of your inner thighs are burning with the strain of it. “You definitely should.”
You reach out to tug at the band of his loincloth, your fingers actually trembling a little as you try to unknot it at the sides. Neteyam’s own breath hitches, and his much more nimble fingers reach to help you untie it and draw it away.
And fuck, now he’s naked too. You sit up eagerly, peering down between your bodies to try and catch a look at him properly. You may have touched him that day in the healing hut, but it’s completely different seeing him.
He’s big. So big. All the Na’vi are big when compared to you, of course, but this just… it feels different, because this is Neteyam. His cock is the same pretty blue shade as the rest of him, decorated with darker stripes and pretty glowing tanhì. Your heart thumps recklessly at sight of it twitching towards his belly, and you reach out towards it eagerly.
Your small fingers wrap around the hard length of him — he’s too thick for you to comfortably hold in one hand, but that doesn’t seem to matter because he groans appreciatively anyway when you run your fingers down his length and then back up, feeling warm and sticky precome gushing from the tip to coat your fingers.
“Ah!” Neteyam groans breathily, his hips rocking as your hand slides up the long, velvety length of him. “Fuck… so good.”
You feel like you’re burning up, your skin sweat-slick and far too hot. The weight of his cock in your hand has your head spinning; you want him inside of you, stretching you wide and fucking you deep. If he fucks as good as he eats pussy, you feel like you’re in for a very good time.
“C’mon,” You breathe, writhing a little. “You– you promised me that you’d.. That you would…”
“Mm, I promised I’d make you feel better than Txetyo ever could,” Neteyam finishes for you, leaning in to kiss your neck. “You like ‘em big and stupid, huh? That’s why they can’t please you, syulang.”
You toss your head back, your eyes fluttering shut as his sharp canines drag over the sensitive skin at the side of your throat. Fuck, maybe he’s right. None of those guys have ever made you feel this good before; you don’t think you’ve ever been this slick and eager in your whole life.
“God, you have such a big head,” You huff, quivering. “Maybe you’re big and stupid too.”
He just laughs at that, a dark chuckle that has your nerves buzzing, and leans down to nip at your shoulder hard enough to make you jerk beneath him. “I am not like Txetyo, or Art’alak, or Pewalsku, or Urtiltey.”
You scoff, before reaching up to push hard at his shoulders. You’re not actually strong enough to shift him, but he pulls back obediently, falling back to lay on his back on the bed. You rise up on your knees then, looming over him as he lays flat.
The way Neteyam is looking up at you, it’s like he’s seeing god. If he could worship you with just a look alone, he is. It’s a little overwhelming, and you feel something deep in your stomach knot just at the sight of him looking at you like that.
“Prettiest little thing I’ve ever seen.” Neteyam whispers, reaching out to grip at your hips, guiding you into straddling his lap.
You don’t think anyone has ever talked to you like this, or looked at you like this. You hardly know what to do in the face of his attention, so you revert to what you’re familiar with; you settle yourself against his lap and grind there, feeling the length of his cock glide along the seam of your cunt.
It feels as though your belly has been set alight, and you take a slow breath as you rock against him. His lips drag from the base of your throat up the length of your neck, then he nips gently at the hinge of your jaw. The softness of his breath against the sensitive skin of your throat elicits a shiver from you, and Neteyam’s hands pull you closer when he feels your reaction.
You make a soft sound against his mouth when his fingers clench tight around your hips. His hold on you encourages you to grind down against him. It's not as though you really need the encouragement, but the way his eyes darken as he stares up at you is enough motivation for you to tilt your hips and grind down just like he wants you to.
"Fuck." He breathes, his eyes going half-lidded as he tilts his head back against your bed to watch you move above him.
Heat is growing alarmingly quickly in your lower belly and at the apex of your thighs, and you tremble over Neteyam as you use your grip on his shoulders for leverage. The soft sounds of pleasure that are pulled out of his throat every time you roll yourself against him send sparks through your entire nervous system; it feels as though you just can't get close enough to him.
Your patience runs out, unable to keep up the teasing; Neteyam seems to feel much the same. When you raise yourself up, chest heaving, Neteyam grabs at his cock and holds it still to allow you to settle against it, the head notched against your entrance. He glides over the opening again, pressing in the barest amount. You can already tell it’s going to be a stretch. Neteyam is thick, and you want it in you, want to feel it pressing you open.
You clench around the head of his cock, trying to pull him in, and Neyeyam groans.
“You’re—” He starts to say, his big hands clutching at your hips. “Shit. You’re tighter than I even imagined, paskalin.”
The idea that he might have imagined this is almost more than you can take, and you surge forward to kiss him again, your mouths clashing clumsily.
“You—you thought about it?” You manage to say, your words coming out a little muffled as he sucks at your lower lip.
He just rumbles a laugh, as though your question is ridiculous, and doesn’t even bother answering. Instead he places one hand securely under your ass, the other adjusting himself—there’s a short, sharp burst of pain as you felt him start to push in, just the tip and your head is spinning. Your nails are digging into his shoulders but if he feels anything it doesn’t show.
He kisses your cheek and then pushes in a little deeper as his mouth falls to yours once more—swallowing up your sharp cry as another inch sinks into you, and you feel like you’re splitting open.
Fuck, you feel as though not grabbing lube was probably a mistake; you were too cocky, too confident in your ability to take him, so sure that he’d be as adequately satisfactory as the other Na’vi men you’ve been with.
He goes in and in and in, pressing farther into you than you even thought was possible. The stretch and the pressure inside you is glorious, so tight that you can barely even flex around him. His mouth is open, each breath escaping him quickly, and you can see your own amazement reflected back to you on Neteyam’s face.
You dig your nails into his shoulders to offset the pain radiating through your core as he shoves himself deeper into you, chased by another wave of warmth as his free hand move between you, thumb settling gently over your clit.
“Ohmygod,” You gasp, pleasure mixing with that burning ache. You squeal, but your noises are half-moans as you try to rock your hips against his hand even as you try to ease the feeling of his girth inside you.
“Ungh..” Neteyam groans into you shoulder as he rocks another inch into you, until you’re sobbing and moaning by turns. “Oh. Fuck. Txetyo didn’t deserve this, syulang. Didn’t know what to do with you.”
You whimper in his grip as he just holds you there, buried to the hilt, thumb still working at your clit and sending frissons of electricity up and down your spine.
“Feels good,” You slur. “You feel good.”
Neteyam pulls out half an inch and fucks back into you from below, making your breath hitch. “Yeah?”
“So big,” You gasp. “I-I want—"
“I know, I know. I’ve got you,” Neteyam rumbles, his full lips brushing gentle kisses over your temple, right in your hairline. “Take what you want, lovely girl.”
And you do, rocking your hips and taking one of his enormous hands to pull between your legs so he can continue to rub at your clit with his fingers, so he can feel all the ways you’re leaking onto him as you lean forward to run your own hungry mouth along his collarbone, his pecs, as your hands grip his shoulders to try and lift yourself up and onto him over and over again.
It doesn’t take long for that coil in your belly to swell, sweet and hot. It’s as if Neteyam is intimately familiar with the way you want him to rub your clit, how you want it pinched but only just so between two fingers, as if he’s been taking fucking notes all those times he had walked in and interrupted you. It doesn’t take long until you’re trembling and squeezing impossibly tight around him, taut like a violin string.
It’s like Neteyam is puncturing your lungs, and every time he fucks into you, you respond with stupid sounding little ‘ah’ sounds.
“Ah, ah, ah!” You gasp, teary-eyed and desperate. Neteyam’s mouth is parted, his eyes wide. They flick over you quickly, drinking you in as you ride him.
Your movements are slow to build, but gradually you establish a steady, desperate rocking. It doesn't take long for you to realise that grinding in his lap feels better than raising yourself all the way up and down. Distantly, you feel little guilty — you know that grinding and rocking in his lap in the way that you are feels better for you than it does for Neteyam, but he doesn't seem to mind. He's watching you with a rapturous expression, his arms urging you closer so that your sweat-slicked chests are pressed close together and your foreheads are resting against each other.
You find a rhythm that both satisfies and stokes you, riding him with abandon as your thighs clench tight around his narrow hips. Neteyam’s hands slide from your hips down over your lower back, worshipful as they drift lower to clutch at your ass and use his grip there to help lift you up and down.
You ride him with mindless intent. His fingers dig at the meat of your ass, his mouth dropped softly open as he fights to keep his own breaths even — it takes a long moment for you to realise that he's fighting to keep himself still and to stop himself from thrusting wildly into you. His restraint and the realisation that he's really allowing you to have all the power in the exchange strikes you hard. You’ve never felt any real sense of agency in sexual intimacy until now, and the realisation that he's being so considerate of how you’re feeling only contributes to the intensifying of those flutters in your belly.
The rush builds in you, relentless, mounting with every jerk of your hips. There would be no catching your breath until it broke.
You rock on him, hard, hard and fast and there, there it is, that’s it — that perfect deep unfurling. A moan rises from the depths of your chest as you gasp at it, your body trembling. Neteyam just stares up at you, mouth open, eyes gone wide and dark.
The wave crests, the world explodes around you, a kaleidoscope of sensation as you come undone in his arms, trembling even as he keeps sliding home into you. You keep moving over him through the ebb of it, through the helpless little sounds that break from his throat. You’re still shuddering when he reaches up to take a firm hold of your waist. As though he can't help himself, his hips thrust up into you.
“Yes,” Neteyam hisses, his flat nose all scrunched up in a feral sort of pleasure. “That’s my girl.”
You tremble, gasp-moaning as your joints turn to jelly. Your orgasm very slowly gives way to thunderous aftershocks that rocket through your body every few seconds, shuddering your whole frame in intervals.
"Fuck," He groans, his breathing gone ragged. "I'm going to-"
He doesn't even finish his sentence before he seems to lose some of that iron control he's been exerting; his hips jolt up into you, and then again, until he's thrusting up into you with a sense of urgency that's almost breath-taking. All you can do is cling onto his hair and bury your face into the crook of his neck, attempting to muffle the embarrassing little gasping sounds that you’re making into his skin as his fucking into you prolongs the breath-taking pleasure of your orgasm.
You don’t fuss when his big hands use his grip on your ass to lift you up himself, fucking up into you and letting loose. Then he's shaking, stilling, spilling himself inside you, and you watch eagerly as his face goes slack and relaxed.
You don't go still immediately. Your hips keep rolling slow and steady as you tremble against him, chasing that feeling of molten shivery pleasure that's still burning in your belly even as it starts to turn into almost unbearable oversensitivity. It's not a fully conscious movement, as you’re moving mostly on instinct, and after a few moments Neteyam takes a hold of your hips to slow you to a stop.
He stays inside you like this for what feels like an eternity, spent and nestled deep inside you as you sit in his lap, slumped against his large strong chest.
"Oh my god," You whisper eventually as another pleasant shudder jolts down your spine. It feels as though you’ve been kicked in the chest, as though the breath has been knocked out of you entirely to make room for the lovely floaty lightness that's beginning to fill the space between your ribcage”
"Mm." Neteyam hums quietly, his fingers tightening in the soft flesh of your hips as he tilts his chin up to brush his lips over your sweaty temple. "Alright?”
No, You think, with no small amount of panic. You’re absolutely not alright. Neteyam may have just been fucking you to prove a point, because it’s always been so important to him that he’s perfect at everything he tries his hand at, but it feels as though he’s just cracked you wide open. You don’t think anyone will ever make you feel as good as he just did.
When you don’t immediately answer, one of his big palms cups the back of your neck so he can tilt your head back, and he leans down to kiss you again. He sucks your swollen bottom lip into his mouth so he can worry at it while you whine, toes curled where you tucked them under your legs, balanced on his thighs.
"Impressed?” He murmurs into your ear, his warm, dry hands stroking soothingly over your sweat-dampened skin.
You laugh despite yourself, and it comes out breathless and broken. “Fuck. I—yeah. Yeah. I’m impressed. Asshole.”
Neteyam’s expression brightens, his ears twitch back as his smile grows. He leans in and kisses you again, once, twice, then three times in quick succession, and out of the corner of your eye you see his tail coiling lazily against your sheets.
“Feel like I need to lay down,” You say. “For a week maybe.”
Neteyam just chuckles as you slowly lift your hips; when Neteyam slides out of you a soft sound of loss escapes from his mouth. You sympathise — you feel uncomfortably empty now that he's no longer nestled inside of you, but Neteyam is already gathering you into his arms and flopping back onto your mattress with you all curled up ontop of his chest.
It all feels so natural — you’ve never cuddled after intimacy like this, and you never would have imagined that Neteyam would allow you to do this. But it seems like he craves physical touch as badly as you does, because it feels as though his hands are everywhere as he holds you.
"Don't look so pleased with yourself, dickhead." You grumble, though you’re already relaxing under the pleasant warm weight of his hands
Neteyam’s smile only grows. "Why shouldn't I be pleased with myself? Have I left you unsatisfied?
You groan loudly, before burying your face in the pillow. The worst part is that it's true — you’ve never felt so satisfied in your life. You think that you could close your eyes and cheerfully float away on a cloud, but you don't want to suffer the humiliation of admitting that.
“I’m satisfied.” You admit, mortified. “It— yeah. You won that stupid competition. Well done.”
That has exactly the effect you had expected it to have; Neteyam’s chest puffs up where you’re laying across it, his eyes crinkling up as he grins. God, he’s so fucking smug.
You manage to swallow down your embarrassment so that you can ask the question that’s been knocking around your head since the first time he had kissed you.
“Can we… do that again, sometime?” You mutter, keeping your face pressed into his chest so he can’t see the vulnerability on your face.
Neteyam’s chest rumbles in a deep laugh, and his large palm settles between your shoulderblades.
“Whenever you want, yawntutsyìp. We have all the time in the world.” He murmurs, nuzzling his face into your hair. “Where ever you want. Here, the forest, my hut in the village—”
You laugh, blinking in surprise at his eagerness. You guess he must be absolutely pussy-whipped right now, which is pretty sweet.
“Next time we mate, we’ll do it in the forest so Txetyo can find us.” He says, and you can feel his teeth against the top of your head when he grins. “Let him watch as I make you scream again.”
"I did not scream!" You snap, embarrassed, reaching to smack at his chest. But then his words actually parse in your head, and you push yourself up quickly on top of his chest so you can look down at him, wincing a little at the ache between your legs.
Neteyam obviously catches your wince because he frowns and one of his hands reaches for your thigh, but you grab at his wrist as you gape at him.
“What the fuck did you just say?” You blurt.
That must have been a slip of his tongue. Every man you’ve been with before has been so damn careful to avoid the term mating, obviously terrified of you somehow getting the wrong idea; they made it painfully clear that it was just fucking, with no strings attached, because you were small and exotic and apparently the tightest thing they’ve ever gotten to put their dicks into.
Neteyam blinks owlishly, as though confused by your response. “What?” He asks, before his face relaxes. “Ah, it’s only the thought of me watching that does it for you?”
“No, it—” You blink at him. “You said… you said next time we… we mate.”
“Yes.” He says, wrapping one big arm around your waist to tug you back to him, as though he doesn’t like the fact that you’re shifting away. “I enjoyed mating here, where I can kiss your face, but it is very...”
He pauses then, and glances around your room. For the first time, you see it through his eyes; it’s small and dingy, the electric lights buzzing and flickering as they run on the ancient generator that Norm and a couple of the other older scientists had dragged from Bridgehead. Even though he’s gotten comfortable cuddling you on your bed, it’s far too small for him; his legs are hanging off the end of it, his feet flat against the floor. Compared to the fantastical natural homes of the Na’vi, your little bedroom seems like a shithole.
“You will be more comfortable in my hut in the village.” Neteyam says decisively, using the arm wrapped around your waist to pull you closer to his chest again. “I wish to take you in the forest, at Vitrautral, as is tradition.”
“Mating.” You repeat, just to check if you had heard him right. “We—that was mating.”
“Mhmm.” Neteyam’s hum sounds casual enough, but you can see the ridiculously pleased wave of his tail in the air behind him. “I told you that you were wasting time with those skxawngs, but I did not mind waiting for you. I did not like hearing them talk about you, about how you felt and how they pleased you, but… I knew I could prove myself a better prospect than all of them.”
“But—” You’re still struggling with this, staring at him with a bewildered expression. “But it—that was sex. It wasn’t—”
“I will take you to Vitrautral tomorrow, and mate you properly,” Neteyam murmurs, and you feel his big chest rumble beneath you in a pleased purr at the idea. “You do not need any other now. Yes?”
It feels almost too good to be true. Almost. Because damn, you want that so badly that it actually aches. After so many years of craving intimacy of any kind, it seems shockingly unlikely that it’s being offered by Neteyam, the very personification of an Omaticayan golden child. How have you gone from getting fucking in empty corners and deep in the forest to having the Olo’eyktan’s son talk about mating you?
You think of the herbs and plants he always brings to the healing hut, the bones and fibres he forages, the food he brings you after hunts. You had always thought he was just shoving how great he was in your face, but now all of that is starting to rearrange itself inside your head. Was he seriously just trying to impress you?
You laugh a little disbelievingly, and Neteyam’s arm tightens around you.
“I have a necklace,” He murmurs, nuzzling against your forehead. “Made with freshwater pearls from the ocean. I was going to give it to you earlier but—we got distracted. It is in my tewng—”
“Get it later,” You whisper, clinging to his chest. You’re so comfortable, you don’t want to move, just in case the moment slips away forever. He made you a necklace. Fuck, he made you a necklace! You’ve only ever seen Na’vi mating gifts from a distance; the thought of receiving one is beyond anything you’ve ever imagined.
Neteyam’s chest seems to swell, his expression brightening the moment you cling to him. He hugs you close, his purr now reminiscent of a damn chainsaw as he curls his whole big body around you.
Taking a chance, you do something that you’ve always sort of wanted to do, ever since you found out what it was; you reach behind him and take his kuru in your hand, feeling the thick, glossy protective braid in your fingers.
Neteyam shudders under you, his rumbling purr stuttering a little as his eyelids flitter, his eyes going dark. He doesn’t stop you, watching you with lightly parted lips as your hand closes around the most sacred, sensitive part of him.
“This is okay?” You whisper, your vulnerability clear in your voice.
“Of course,” He whispers back, as though the moment is a soap bubble that could burst at a slightly raised voice. “It is yours, syulang.”
Emboldened, you drag your fist down the glossy braid until you reach the end, where the glowing tendrils that make up the exposed manifestation of his nervous system. The fleshy pink tendrils writhe in the air, and you watch in eager amazement. You’ve only ever seen diagrams of this part of the Na’vi anatomy, and you want so badly to touch it.
“You can play with it all you want,” Neteyam murmurs, and his voice is breathless.
You breathe a laugh, glancing up at him with a little grin. His pupils are blown, his lips parted, his chest heaving. You want to gnaw on his ribs, swallow him whole; he’s so cute.
“I’ll save that for tomorrow,” You whisper, the words ringing like a promise.
Neteyam looks briefly disappointed, before his mood is promptly buoyed at the thought of mating you again at the Tree of Souls, as he had promised you. He buries his face happily in your neck as you pet absently at the protective braid covering his kuru. It’s a non-sexual touch, and yet he goes entirely boneless, purring up a storm as you stroke your hand over it.
“Told you those others could not please you, paskalin,” He murmurs, his words slurring a little as his eyelids flutter with every soft touch to his kuru. “Told you they did not know what to do with you.”
You roll your eyes, but you can’t help the fond smile pulling at your mouth.
“Mm. You did. Guess I needed someone like you, huh? A mighty warrior?” You say, teasing him with that silly little nickname he always called himself when you were a teenager. At the time you had thought he was so annoying, but now, looking back… you’re willing to admit it was pretty adorable.
Neteyam’s drowsy face pulls up in a sweet smile, his flat nose brushing against your collarbones. It seems like he’s pleased you remembered, or maybe he’s pleased that you’re impressed with him.
He kisses your neck, then mumbles sleepily, “The mightiest.”
#neteyam x reader#neteyam x human#neteyam fic#Neteyam#avatar 2#avatar x reader#na’vi x reader#na’vi x human#avatar way of water#fics
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Hiding the rest of this HUGE comic behind a readmore for ur sanity
Hes got the keenest eye for these things!
Now that this is hiding behind a readmore i can justify writing an essay in here. Nothing big tho i am just very chatty :)!
Postgame where Peppino still gets visits every now and again from the bosses of the tower. I already drew one for the noise (lmao) but i wanted to draw each of the main four interacting with him in some way.
Pepperman is a refined and well renowned artist. His art is highly sought after and his advice is not taken lightly. He has many MANY fortunes to pull from to make his visions a reality and to influence anyone to do anything. Except for Peppino.
From the very first fight, Pepperman is immediately, overwhelmingly obsessed with this stout little brawler. He is much much more than what meets the eyes. He is initially extremely offput and annoyed that a human so boldly decided to waltz into his domain, and he expects to be able to steamroll and bully this…beast…out of his place of work. He is refined when he wants to be, but he is quick to use his brute strength to get what he wants if only bc he knows he can do it
And so when he decides to fully charge and thrash this little trembling human, expecting him to skitter away the second he gets struck, he is completely unprepared for when he gets launched to the other end of this room. The human looks so incredibly PISSED, like a bull seeing red, and suddenly this little altercation suddenly became a real actual ‘knock your teeth out’ brawl. This human is only like half his height, but his punches and bashes fucking knock the wind out of him.
And like ! To add insult to injury!!! After he wins the fight! He visibly deflates, the adrenaline seemingly wearing off. Hes just this trembling fuckin whelp again !!! Whimpering as he fucking runs back out through the portal to do god knows what. And Pepperman could not be any more fucking intrigued. Like this no name came in, whooped his fuckin ass, and went about his day. Its unreal
While Peppino is running around climbing the tower, Pepperman is in his room losing his mind. Hes obsessed. No one has challenged him in this way. No one has fought him and WON. He is ALWAYS able to bully people into submission either through brute force or with money, and he got his ass handed to him !! He needs to know more. Its quite literally consuming him.
Cut to the final fight, set up for a rematch; and he knows he is going to get steamrolled again but it is SO exhilarating to get another chance to see this humans form up close again. This time he can try to commit everything to memory. Its all such a blur though, and in a quarter of the time it took to end their first fight, its over. He gets to watch the human fight the gunslinger with his bare hands, no gun necessary, and he doesnt even bat an eye at what looks to be a clone of himself. He is a force of nature tearing through every single defense, and when Pepperman watches the actual final fight with the bizarre little pizza man, its like hes caught in a movie. The rain, the storm, the atmosphere. He wishes he could burn the entire scene into his mind.
So when everything returns to normal, he takes the time to travel for days to come and find this little human named Peppino. The memory is still strong and vivid but eventually, details will start to slip his mind. He needs to find this human, convince him to sit and do some still life sessions with him to help cement the humans appearance in his head. He hasnt had to resort to…asking for permission for anything in a loooong time…he bullies people into doing what he wants but Peppino is not your average person, and if he wants something from this man, he’ll have to meet him at his level.
He...can make an exception for Peppino...he supposes.
#pizza tower#peppino spaghetti#peppino#pepperman#i love love love how this little comic turned out#esp with how peppino came out in so many panels#esp the one w pepperman holding peppino close: that one is the best i think#anyway#yeah#heehee#this is not intended to be shippy but do as u please#pepperman is just an artist that appreciates beautiful BEAUTIFUL forms#and people who defy him#and he has No filter#peppino is like oh my god#hes eccentric…the worst kind of person….#but like#no one has tried to fight him since the tower collapsed#and everyone seems peaceful enough now#so if this weirdo thinks hes ‘beautiful’ and ‘exquisite’ and ONLY wants to spend some time to draw him#well thats better than fighting again; hell take it#also#heehee yes; peppino is using a walkman#hes been holding onto that shit for decades its his ol reliable
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BTS fic recs: March 2024
I want to thank each and every writer on this list for creating such wonderful stories and art - you are truly amazing ✨ All the fics on this list hold a dear place in my heart 🥹
❗Most of these fics are smutty or dark as hell, so minors dni.❗
If you read anything on this list and you like it, please leave a comment to the writer or reblog the fic, it might seem like a tiny gesture, but it really means a lot for writers and I can guarantee it will put a smile on their faces💜 Let’s share and give lots of love!
Looking for more to read? Check ‘The Library’ or last years recs 🙂
[index] → jan | feb (jhs) | 💜 (myg) | apr | may | jun | jul | aug | sep (jjk)(knj) | oct (pjm) | nov | dec (kth)(ksj) |
Emoji meaning → angst = 🌩️, smut = 🥵, fluff = 🥰, comedy = 😂, yandere = 😈, thriller/dark = 👻, fantasy = 🪄.
⭐Mistletoe @belovedkingx [9.3k]
// knj x f.reader // christmas!au, f2l // 🥰🥵
📝 christmas is all about spending time with the ones you love, having fun and creating beautiful memories but that was never how it turned out for you. You were dreading the annual family Christmas, but an idea was proposed to you, and shockingly Namjoon agreed to it as well as yourself. But will it help or will it turn out to be a mistake?
🗨️ this was just so cute 🥹🥰
⭐Holiday Shambles @ressjeon [5k]
// knj x f.reader // christmas!au, married!au // 🥰🥵🌩️
📝 when you have to spend time with both your parents and Namjoon’s snobby ones for this Christmas, you’re forced to show the best version of you even knowing what’s to come. you’re ready, right? after all, you’re the best wife aren’t you?
🗨️ this is so hilarious, cute and sweet 🥹 Loved it✨
⭐New Guy @kithtaehyung [5k]
// knj x f.reader // university!au, e2l // 🥵
📝 all you want to do is have a successful meeting after experiencing dwindling attendance. but the new guy is completely disrupting things… or is he?
🗨️ so many feels about this one; all good and dirty ones!!! I had a feeling about the twist but I wasn’t sure. But I would very much love for a Joonie in grey joggers to knock on my door please 🥺🤭 Anyway, it was extremely good, as is everything you do and write! And it was so fucking HOT, like the tension, incredible! It really had me 🥵 So, so fucking good— love it 💖💯
⭐Entirety @btsgotjams27 [3.3k]
// knj x f.reader // slice of life!au, f2l // 🥵🥰
📝 namjoon is the complete package, except for the fact that he won’t make the first move.
🗨️ AFGJFKGHLKFDHGJGKJHG— 🥵🥵🥵 Yes, I’ve resulted to key smashing because I’m speechless, but I’ll try to give a few words anyway: first, this was incredibly hot, I can’t even begin to articulate properly, and the writing, like I’m a so in love with the writing, like the language is so descriptive and imaginative that I can clearly imagine every little fucking detail— and the words? Well they just flow seamlessly! ✨
⭐My Plus One @btsgotjams27 [5.4k]
// ksj x f.reader // fake dating!au, i2l // 🥰🌩️
📝 when you and jin have weddings to attend, you decide to help one another by agreeing to being each other's plus ones.
🗨️ It was so sweet, it was cute and fluffy and so damn funny! Like there were so many times I was just laughing with the biggest grin plastered on my face. So thank you, thank you for writing this and for cheering me up ✨💯
⭐Meet Me at the Bar [epilogue] @eoieopda [7.5k]
// ksj x f.reader // law school!au, study buddies, bf2l // 🥰😂🥵
📝 you're supposed to be staring down the barrel of the last — and most important — examination of your life, but you only have eyes for your study buddy.
🗨️ omg these two cute fools are so fucking adorable 😭 It was really good, loved everything in it, the writing, the characters and how they have been in love with each other for so long but never said anything to each other, and FINALLY, BAM ✨
⭐Forever @oddinary4bts [25.2k]
// ksj x f.reader // idol!au, ex-fiancés to lovers // 🥰🥵🌩️
📝 three years ago, your relationship with jin ended in fights and tears. When life puts him back on your path, you catch a glimpse of light in his eyes that you thought had died when you broke up. Will your relationship blossom into a well-deserved forever or will you lose the love of your life again?
🗨️ so much love and sadness in this! The nostalgia is high, there’s a lot of feelings, a lot of heartbreak. The thoughts about going back for fear of getting your heart broken again, or moving on and shielding the broken pieces of heartbreak? Fuck! So fucking good. I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: everything Ella writes is just pure gold 🥹✨
⭐A Time Just for Us [part of a completed series] @bluewhale52 [5.4k]
// myg x f.reader // established relationship, idol!au // 🥰🥵
📝 you are desperate for a baby.
🗨️ I haven’t even read the series– like I started with this, but it was so freaking good! It was somehow cute, but very very very dirty 😂🥵
⭐Cat Cafes and More @jeonsbabygirlsworld [0.7k]
// myg x f.reader // established relationship // 🥰
📝 you insist yoongi to visit the cat cafe which has cats up for adoption which ends up you adopting a white Persian cat even though you have holly with you both.
🗨️ omg this was just so fucking cute 😭💕Overall just a really cute, fluffy and lovely drabble 🥰💜
⭐Less of Them [ongoing series] @casuallyimagining [currently loading]
// myg x f.reader // established relationship, arranged marriage!au, star-crossed lovers // 🥵🌩️🥰🪄
📝 as the daughter of one of the oldest families in the kingdom, when the king decides that it's you he wishes to marry, you're forced to make a decision and fulfill your duty, leaving behind everything you've ever known--and the only man you've ever loved.
🗨️ this chapter was so fucking good, I don’t even know where to begin! First, it was so sad and emotional (at least for me 😭), like OC has been through so fucking much 😭 The poor thing is traumatized and the whole paragraph about her learning the royal life that her father never could have prepared her for 😭😭😭 It’s such an amazing story, you simple have to read it if you haven’t. There’s two out of three parts out.
⭐Would u? [3tan drabble ongoing series] @kithtaehyung [2.3K]
// myg x f.reader // brother’s best friend!au // 🥰
📝 you see a certain fruit-centered trend online.. and decide to test it on yoongi.
🗨️ so fucking sweet and fluffy… This was just so cute, I just love this couple and I can’t get enough of them omg 🥹 and reader being on her period and Yoongi just distracting her pain away, by naturally being himself and doing mundane things 🥹 so domestic I love it! 😭✨ And the tangerines 😭😭😭💖
⭐Strawberry Sundae @youtifulhobi [6k]
// jhs x f.reader // slice of life!au, lifeguard!hobi, olympian swimmer!reader, established relationship // 🥰
📝 a few years after you begin dating Jung Hoseok, the two of you reminisce about how you met when he was a lifeguard and saved you from drowning, when in reality you had just fell off your strawberry floatie and he just wanted to talk to you.
🗨️ honestly, this is just fucking cute, adorable really! I really loved it and it’s definitely one of my favorite Hoseok fics now 🥰💯
⭐Sweetest Crush @minjoonalist [4.7k]
// jhs x f.reader // brother’s best friend!au // 🥵
📝 what would you do if your friend’s younger sibling suddenly asks you for sex?
🗨️ KBFKDSBFKGH it was so filthy I don’t even know what I read (also there’s just something about a brother’s best friend!!!) 🥵😂
⭐Melatonin @taeinparis [3k]
// jhs x f.reader // established relationship // 🥵🥰
📝 sleeping at night was difficult for you, and atop of your boyfriend’s lawn mower-esk snoring, it was impossible. But luckily for you, he knows just the remedy to cure your sleeplessness (and hopefully his snoring).
🗨️ Iiiih this was so dirty, I loved it 💖 there was also a dash of fluff sprinkled in there, but mainly just smut 😂 🥵✨
⭐Our ‘Get Along’ Shirt @dreamyjoons [14.2k]
// pjm x f.reader // e2l // 🥵
📝 another day, another endless round of you and Jimin bickering. It’s never ending, all-consuming, and your friends have had enough. Namjoon decides to end it once and for all - with help from a shirt for squabbling toddlers.
🗨️ JFHKJSFKSDJDH— This was so fucking hilarious 😂 The sexual tension between them was SO HIGH 🥵 and when they finally snapped, oh dear God, it was so good! And the whole shit concept, so hilarious and their banter 😂 AND THE SWEAT??? I’m weak okay!! So freaking good, I loved it so much and Namjoon and the rest of the gang were just priceless. Jin at the end had me laughing so hard 🤭💯
⭐Just a Taste @yoonieper [14.2k]
// pjm x f.reader // vampire!au, established relationship // 🥵🌩️😂
📝 they said having a relationship with a human wasn’t a good idea, but Jimin liked you too much to ever let that get in the way. Your relationship was beautiful, yes you didn’t know that small important detail about him being a bloodthirsty vampire, but he had it under control. That’s at least what he thought, he never would have predicted a drought….
🗨️ FUCK 😭 This was so fucking good I don’t even know where to begin??? The story in itself was so extremely good, whaaat. And Jimin was so nice, and their love for each other, so fucking pure 💜 This was an emotional rollercoaster and I fucking loved everything about it 😭 and the smut, God, it was so good— I don’t know what to say 😭 And then at the ending, the angst, fuck, I was so afraid if it was going to end just like that, but I was so glad that they found each other again 😭 This is a new favorite of mine, so good, it was slightly sad at times, like angsty, but the love that the have for each other, FUCK. So so fucking incredible 😭 Don’t mind all the crying, it’s happy tears, I promise 💖💯 Also, it’s mostly told in Jimin’s POV, which I just freaking love and it makes the story so good!!!
⭐High on Love @peachypinkygloss [6.4k]
// pjm x f.reader // established relationship, racer!jimin // 🥵
📝 Jimin has once again won a race and he takes you out on a ride for the night, taking dangerous but very exciting risks. He should have expected that the rush of adrenaline in your body always turns you into a horny mess.
🗨️ I am just BLOWN AWAY by the fic– holy molly, was it dirty? Yes! Needy? Yes! Cute? Yes! Oh and the car racing, love, love, love! Like, everything in this. And the smut 🥵🥵🥵 I mean, it was so dirt and needy (yes I know I’m using the same words, lol), but FUCK. Incredible! Another ont to add to my faves ✨ And a big bonus for the phone messages, because that was fucking hot too!!! 🥵💯
⭐Bodyguard (there’s a pt 2) @yoonpobs [2.1k]
// kth x f.reader // e2l, bodyguard!au // 🥵
📝 you protect taehyung from people but forget about the biggest threat. yourself.
🗨️ omg 🥵 This extremely good, so enticing and there was just all the build up sexual tension at the end— ugh! So good! 🥵 There wasn’t any smut in it, but damn it, it was still very lustful (I love those undertones). What’s not to love? It’s short, sweet and sensual ✨💯 There’s even a part two that I haven’t read yet!!!
⭐New Tricks @geniuslab [10.1k]
// kth x f.reader // dog trainer!au, s2l // 🥵😂🥰
📝 when your newly adopted puppy turns out to be a lot more work than you expected, a cute dog trainer comes to the rescue. You soon become friends, but you begin to realize friendship might not be all you want.
🗨️ awww this was so fucking cute and fluff, I loved it som much 💖💯
⭐In my Head @sketchguk [8k]
// kth x f.reader // college!au // 🥵🌩️
📝 taehyung’s friends love you ー adore you. they probably want to fuck you, but they’ll never admit to it. instead, they’ll push taehyung’s limits in the middle of a frat party, testing just how close they can get to you before he takes you to bed in a fit of jealousy. and maybe, just maybe, one of his friends can have a taste too (if he’s lucky).
🗨️ okay, okay. This was hella 🥵 Like WOAH, filthy, steamy and just dirty! I am so mad at Taehyung though! Like why can’t he be with OC? What is it that he can’t give her? But tbh, with the way that he’s acting, I feel like she should just get with one of his friends instead 😭 Like, it seems like Guk loves her so much, or Jimin, the little freak he was in this 🥵
⭐Gold Rush @ditttiii [4.4k]
// kth x f.reader // s2l!au // 🥵🌩️
📝 kim taehyung is a walking heartbreak waiting to happen. all narrow eyes and long nose and devilish smirks, he is everyone’s dream. after months of sharing an elevator with the man who makes your heart race until you can scarcely breathe when the chance finally comes; are you willing to risk it all for his touch?
🗨️ OMG— I finally got to read this, and FUCK. SHIT. It is INSANELY beautiful (and sad too 🥹). But goddamn it, the love OC has for Taehyung, oh my. And the bittersweet feelings are what makes this hauntingly beautiful 💖 Again, I have a hard time coming up with words, words for how beautiful this masterpiece truly is 😭 Just— perfection 💯 Also, because it was so bittersweet, I really love the open ending, like getting to imagine whatever you like for this couple 😭💜
⭐To Give a Helping Hand (part 2) @oddinary4bts [3.1k]
// jjk x f.reader // idol!au // 🥵
📝 when Jungkook finally approaches you at the gym, he realizes you’ve been wanting him just as badly as he’s been wanting you.
🗨️ In case you haven’t read part two, here’s your psa to do so right now. It’s just incredible (as everything that Ella writes, tbh ✨). OC is really being a brat in this one and JK is down baaaaaad 🥵
⭐Desire [ongoing series] pt1 + pt2 @jeonsbabygirlsworld [3k]
// jjk x f.reader + myg x f.reader (ft. eunwoo) // slice of life!au // 🥵🌩️
📝 life was easy until you meet the eye candy of your life and the adventure with him is a hell of ride, but there is certain someone who seems to get hurt in this.
🗨️ It’s a very interesting story, it’s very complex and I can’t wait to read more!
⭐When Worlds Collide [ongoing series] @letjungcoook7 [currently loading…]
// jjk x f.reader // college!au, slice of life!au, s2l, fuckboy!jk, virgin!reader // 🥵🌩️
📝 since your mother's passing a year ago, life has been a whirlwind. balancing your passion for ballet with a low-key presence at college, where you’re the top student, was your norm until Jungkook stepped into your world. known for his reputation preceding him, jungkook is the talk of the campus with his casual rendezvous that have the girls buzzing. despite his allure, you're puzzled by his need for your tutoring prowess, especially given his own academic merit. yet, succumbing to his persistent requests, you reluctantly agree, only to find yourself thrust into the spotlight you've always avoided.
🗨️ I’ve read the first two parts and they are AMAZING! The story is so interesting and I already know that there’s so much more to Jungkook and OC in this one. So exciting to read more!! ❤️🔥
⭐Liquor Lips @letjungcoook7 [1.5k]
// jjk x f.reader // established relationship // 🥵
📝 author didn’t write a summary.
🗨️ it was incredible good, like I want to read more (it’s not a series though!). It’s the perfect dirty little one-shot/drabble ❤️🔥
This month was really tough for me, mentally… I struggled with my own mental health and it got really bad. I was writing my major series (18 chapters god what was I thinking 😂) at the same time (still am lol), and I struggled with reading as I used to, so the list isn’t as long as normally, maybe, I did try to read a lot by the end of the month to make up for it. But yeah 🫶 Hopefully I have more time next month, because I expect to finish my series there, and then I’ll take a small break from writing and just read, because I really miss it 🥹
If you want more, you’re more than welcome to follow me! I do monthly rec lists and sometimes I post my own writing too (only bangtan).
Love you and Borahae 💜
#bts fic recs#bts fic#bts fics#bts imagine#bts imagines#bts scenarios#yoongi smut#Yoongi x reader#bts smut#namjoon x reader#bts x reader#bts fanfiction#bts fanfic#bts fanfction#bts x reader smut#bts x you#bts x y/n#bts x oc#jimin x reader#pjm x reader#seokjin x reader#hoseok x reader#knj x reader#jhs x reader#bangtan x reader#bangtan smut#bangtan fanfic#bangtan fic#jungkook x reader#jungkook smut
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couldn’t help writing a lil thing from @plumadot’s arts (linked here and here!)🥺👉👈 third life scarian possessed me so hard I broke out of my burn out for this reblogs would be really cool and awesome okaythankyou
——————————
“And how are preparations for Doom Day going, my good sir?” Scar’s voice is a light sound behind him, tone cheerful and inquisitive all at once.
Grian turns around from where he’s knee deep in sand, a small hole dug out in front of him. Scar comes to stand beside him, red eyes staring down at him. His gaze is soft, far too soft for a man who’s meant to be anything but.
With a soft noise, Grian pushes himself up to stand while dusting off his hands. He leaves his shovel in the ground by the hole. His wings flutter.
He hums, surveying the area. He gazes at the holes of sand, where the tnt will be set down, at the place where a bunker will be built. “Not bad, I’d say. I think this place’ll be ready by tomorrow or some time ‘round then.”
Scar whistles, moving to casually wrap an arm around the green life’s shoulders. “Amayzin’!” His lips lift in a smile. “Man, those Dogwarts guys won’t know what hit ‘em!”
“That’s if this trap even works, Scar,” Grian mutters, unable to hold back the bitterness in his voice. His traps have hardly worked all game, and he’d be lying if he said he isn’t worried about this one failing too. “It has to,” he says, brows knitting together, “there’s too much riding on this one.”
His eyes trail over to Scar, who doesn’t seem to share his worries.
“Aw, c’mon G,” Scar starts as he pulls the other toward him. He tugs so that Grian’s facing him, their faces a few inches apart. Grian can feel how warm Scar is this close, can see the way his chest rises and falls. “I have total trust in you and your trapping skills. So relax a little, yeah?”
Grian frowns at him in turn. Speculation and trust aren’t good enough when up against his fail rate. He needs one hundred percent certainty. But he can’t just test this one. It’s a one time pull. “Scar—”
Careful fingers grab his chin, rough and calloused from the harsh conditions of the desert but still far too careful. Red names aren’t supposed to be careful or gentle, and yet here Scar is.
“I trust you,” Scar says again, and Grian doesn’t think this is how things are supposed to go. It’s not the first time he’s had this thought, and he’s sure it won’t be the last (provided they both survive this, that is). “You really do worry too much.”
“One of us has to while you’re off gallivanting around without a shirt on,” Grian grumbles while reaching for the edge of Scar’s cloak. He holds onto it, fingers digging into the fabric.
Scar lifts a playful brow at Grian’s comment, “Does that mean I look good while valligaggling?”
Grian snorts, the action laced with too much affection. “That’s not even a word, Scar,” he replies with a little laugh, one that makes Scar’s grin widen.
“It’s close enough,” the man hums in answer, their faces moving closer. His hand drops to Grian’s elbow, the other drawing him in closer by the waist. Red eyes flutter shut as his breath ghosts over Grian’s lips. “And it made you laugh.”
“Your priorities are seriously mixed up,” Grian’s voice is hardly above a whisper as watches as Scar draws in closer.
Their lips meet seconds later, chapped and warm. Grian stares at Scar’s face, the way the creases in his forehead smooth over and relax. He looks so content, a funny feeling to express when the powder keg is seconds from exploding.
It hardly takes any time at all for Scar to deepen the kiss, raising his hand from Grian’s elbow to hold the edge of his jaw. His thumb settles too close to Grian’s throat, yet not an ounce of fear runs through him. His eyes shut as he presses his lips back against Scar’s, a bit more pressure than the other applies. He catches Scar’s wrist in his hand, and his grip is a little tight at first (too tight for a green name). He has to remind himself to loosen his hand, but Scar never gives a reaction.
He simply angles Grian’s chin up slightly, hand shifting to cup his cheek. His fingers tangle in his hair, brushing against his ear.
It’s kind of a shame they’re blowing up the desert. He wouldn’t mind sharing more kisses with Scar out in the open chilly air like this.
Scar kisses him like he’s something fragile, something precious. He kisses him like he’s afraid of breaking him, and really it’s laughable how gentle he is with Grian. His eyes say he shouldn’t be.
(Ironic then, that Grian is wearing more red than him.)
It’s with a soft sigh that Scar pulls back, setting their foreheads against one another. So easily, so fluidly, he holds Grian’s face in both of his hands, one of his thumbs brushing along his cheek. There’s a fond smile on his face, and Grian feels a little dazed by the sight.
“Gri,” Scar says quietly, a moment shared for only the two of them, “I need you to know, I—”
Some kind of alarm rings in Grian’s head, and he knows he cannot let Scar finish that sentence. Panic runs down his spine like electricity, zapping him. He sets his hands on Scar’s front, gently pushing back as he turns his head away.
“H-Haha, we’ve wasted enough time, haven’t we?” he questions, some kind of desperate attempt to change the conversation. “We have a war to prepare for, remember?”
He doesn’t watch Scar’s face as he turns away, unable to face it. He turns his back to Scar, wings twitching behind him. Grian purposefully looks down at the sand before him, reminding himself of what he’s meant to be doing. “We, uh, have much to do still,” he says, trying to focus on anything but Scar. “I mean, unless you want me to lose my first life!”
Grian goes to say more, but two hands land on his shoulders, stopping him. He jumps just slightly, startled. Yet it doesn’t last long as he feels Scar’s warmth against his back. “…Scar,” he mumbles.
Arms wrap around him proper, holding him close. He feels Scar bury his face in his hair as the smell of lilacs and poppies flood his senses. “Just a little longer, okay?” the red name murmurs so softly.
Let me hold you for a little longer.
Stay with me for a little longer.
Pretend this’ll last for a little longer.
How selfish, Scar is. Grian looks down at the sand below, its mocking grains. He grabs hold of Scar, keeping him right where he is. “…I’m not going to die, Scar.”
“Promise me.” Scar’s arms tighten around him, giving away how much he needs Grian to stay alive. How much he treasures Grian, both his partnership and company.
Grian squeezes him. He supposes he’s a little selfish as well. “…I promise.”
Scar lets out a shaky breath, burying his face further into Grian’s hair.
They don’t move for a little while. A gentle red name and a green name clothed in far too much crimson. Together they stand, selfishly.
#mochi writes#scarian#trafficshipping#AAAAAAAA SORRY IF THIS IS ROUGH#I HAVENT WRITTEN ALL WEEK ;;;;;;#ALSO HI PLUME I HOPE THIS IS OKAY JDFHGJFHG#I couldn’t resist doing a little drabble on this#ueueueueue these boys can create So many feeling#and not talk about their own <3
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flowers and firsts (melissa schemmenti x fem!reader)
summary: being the gracious friend you are, you offer to share your weed with melissa and jacob for a fun friday night at their place. when jacob goes to bed, things get heated between you and your favorite coworker.
warnings: smut (18+), consensual high sex, recreational marijuana use (be responsible), strap-ons, praise kink, vibrators, soft melissa, stoner reader, attempts at comedy (it's a fun fic guys), mario kart 8 GONE SEXUAL
notes: happy 4/20. this wasn't requested, but my OCD is beating the fuck out of me rn and writing it brought me comfort. let me know what you think. much love from your favorite slutty stoner 💚
"i know kids are curious, but eighth grade is a bit early to try weed, right?" jacob bounced his leg anxiously as he raised the question to his friends in the teachers' lounge. one of his students had just been suspended for bringing marijuana to school, and jacob was characteristically worried about the kid.
"i started in tenth grade, but teenagers are growin' up younger and younger these days," melissa responded. barbara raised her eyebrows in shock, and melissa reacted with an amused half-smile. "like trouble over here. when was your first time, hon?"
you tried to ignore the innuendo as melissa invited you into the conversation. you had been hired to teach the third grade a few months ago. you and melissa had a rapport from the first moment you walked into the lounge. every time you were in a room together, you made each other laugh. melissa made you feel at ease in your new workplace, and you felt lucky to have her.
because you both got along so well, ava often paired you up for team-building exercises and combined-class activities. the two of you weren't exactly close friends yet, but you had chemistry. that much was obvious to everyone at abbott.
"tenth grade for me, too," you answered between sips of your morning coffee. "a friend and i did it in the bathroom before art class. good memories."
"what, did you have some kinda fancy vape pen?" melissa cocked an eyebrow at you.
"i wouldn't call it fancy, but yeah, we mostly smoked carts," you explained. "bought 'em from the upperclassmen in the parking lot before school. i'm pretty sure they weren't pure weed, though. we had to be smoking battery acid, or plastic or something."
"god, your generation is weird. smokin' chemicals out of a flash drive," melissa said, gesturing wildly to convey her amazement. "the first time i got high was in detention. my buddy steve would sneak in and bring us cigarettes and blunts. they all looked the same, so we played russian roulette with it. now everybody walks around with those neon devices in their pockets."
"i can't tell if you're being serious or if you're referencing the breakfast club," you giggled, nudging the redhead's shoulder jokingly as you sat down next to her.
"ha ha, very funny, little miss," melissa deadpanned. you had asked her to stop calling you "kid" a few weeks ago. she respected your wishes by coming up with all sorts of endearing synonyms to call you instead. "what about you, jacob? you used to vape—ever experimented with mary jane?"
"or mark john?" you added. melissa snorted and gave you a playful swat on the arm.
"no, actually, i haven't," jacob said, rolling his eyes at your quip. "i didn't have many friends in high school or college, and after that i had to be drug tested regularly for teachers without borders. i never got the chance."
"well, if you ever feel like trying something new, i have plenty to share," you offered. "can't have you over at my place, though; every time i bring guests around, my crazy neighbor thinks they're cia operatives."
everyone in the room except melissa gave you a shocked look. barbara looked especially aghast, her brightly painted lips curled into an 'o' shape.
"damn, i thought janine was the only after-school stoner here. what a pleasant surprise!" ava broke the silence.
"i suppose i would partake given one of those weed pens you mentioned," jacob said to you. "the only thing i've been vaping lately is air, and it gets stale after a while."
"oh no, i haven't used a cart since high school," you clarified. "if you're smoking with me, you're smoking. don't worry, it's easy. just like vaping, but better in every way."
"first of all, no smoke circle is happening under my roof without me." melissa chimed in, looking at you with a silent question in her eyes. you nodded—of course you wanted her there. "and second, where do you even get the weed? if you buy the legal stuff from new york or massachusetts, you're not bringin' it to my house."
"i wouldn't dream of it," you affirmed. "i only smoke authentic philly weed. don't worry about it; i got a guy."
---
that friday night, you showed up on melissa's doorstep wearing a casual t-shirt dress, with a tote bag full of goodies slung over your shoulder. jacob was the one to answer the door.
"hey! come on in, melissa's making pizza," he said cheerfully, a bit jittery with anticipation.
you followed jacob inside and found melissa leaning over the kitchen island, smiling fondly at you. she was wearing sweatpants and a loose-fitting striped shirt, with her hair loose and a bit messy from cooking. she looked radiant and comfortable.
"you know, the pizza will taste better if we smoke before dinner," you proposed.
"bold of you to assume my pizza could taste any better," melissa joked back.
"i'm game," jacob said. "i want the full marijuana experience."
"in that case, help me set up," you said to the history teacher. "i want you to see how everything works."
you laid the contents of your tote bag out on the island countertop: a ziploc baggie full of flower, a little purple grinder, a holographic pink bowl, and a yellow lighter with white flowers on it.
"jacob, this is a grinder," you said, uncapping the grinder and opening the ziploc bag. "we're gonna use it to break up the flower into little pieces."
"oh wow, that is... pungent," jacob remarked. he watched as you ground up the weed, then handed the pink glass bowl to him.
"and this is a bowl, or a pipe if you're lame," you said. "you wanna do the honors?"
jacob grinned and reached into the grinder, bouncing excitedly on his heels. you put a hand on his shoulder to steady him. he filled the bowl, looking to you for approval several times while he did it.
"awesome, we're ready," you said. melissa placed her pizza in the oven and joined the circle.
"let's take it out on the patio," melissa suggested.
she led you and jacob out to the patio, a small ledge overlooking the city with three chairs conveniently set up in a tight circle. it was 7pm and the sun had just begun its descent, casting philadelphia in an orange glow.
the three of you sat down. you held the bowl up to your lips and moved to light it, but melissa snatched the lighter from your hand. she leaned in and held the flame to the bowl, her face inches from yours. you tried to concentrate on the task at hand, rather than her painted lips or her vivid green eyes dancing all over you.
you took a long inhale of the smoke and blew it up toward the sky. melissa plucked the bowl out of your hand and took a hit. she held the smoke in her lungs for an impressive amount of time for someone who didn't smoke regularly. she passed the still-lit bowl to jacob.
as soon as jacob took his hit, you knew it was gonna hurt. he overestimated his own lung capacity, and he didn't even finish blowing the smoke out before he was coughing.
"happens to everybody, pal," melissa patted jacob's back to ease his pain.
"ugh!" jacob sputtered between coughs. "why didn't you guys tell me smoking hurts?"
---
several rotations later, the three of you were high. well, you and melissa were high; jacob was outright fried. not altogether unexpected, but funny as hell.
when melissa's pizza was done, you all resolved to eat outside so you could watch the sunset together.
"this is heavenly, mel," you moaned after a delicious bite of the pizza.
"ha!" jacob exclaimed, and you and melissa turned to him, confused. meeting melissa's gaze, he threw his arms up in the air—like he expected her to understand what he meant by that one noise. "she stole two syllables from your name. you can't just take syllables, y/n. they're not yours."
"since when do you care about private property rights?" you quipped back before turning your attention to melissa. "i'm serious though. this pizza is sooo good. like last-meal-on-death-row good."
"keep talkin' sweet like that, and you can call me whatever you want," melissa replied with a wink, sending a flood of warmth to your face.
"what were we talking about? just now?" jacob chimed in, his eyes wide and darting every which way.
"... i actually don't know," you said with a giggle. you tried to remember, you really did. but you could feel melissa's eyes on you, and you heard her words echoing in your head. and it was hard to focus on anything else.
"short term memory loss! add that to the list of things you guys didn't warn me about," jacob scoffed.
"jacob, eat your damn pizza," melissa cut in. a peaceful smile graced her lips as she stared out at the city skyline, now a twilight blue in the absence of the sun. "i've missed this feeling, everythin' all fuzzy and light. how are you holding up, lovebug?"
your heart fluttered at the endearing name. melissa, it seemed, wore her heart on her sleeve when she was high—judging by the adoring way she gazed at you while she awaited your response. maybe the weed was messing with your head, but you swore she'd never looked so beautiful.
her eyes lacked any trace of the fire you were used to seeing (though they were quite red). for once, she wasn't on guard. her plump lips curled around her wine glass as she took a sip of merlot, vocalizing her sensual appreciation with a hum.
her long auburn hair was tucked behind her ears, resting on her shoulders in loose waves instead of her preferred meticulous curls. you wanted to run your fingers through her locks, feel their softness and smell her shampoo.
entranced by the redhead, you forgot she had asked you a question. melissa tapped your knee in reminder.
"i feel perfect," was your soft reply. you were beaming brightly before the sentence even finished. rather than sitting in a chair, you felt like you were floating on a cloud. the colors of melissa's patio and the sky blended together in a beautiful, swirling mosaic. the sounds of the city were clear and pleasant as philly wound down for the night. "i'm so happy."
"glad to hear it, sunshine. but i'm pretty sure jacob is asleep," melissa chuckled and patted the man's shoulder. he didn't stir, remaining slumped and conked out in his chair. "he's been losin' sleep over the kid who got suspended. bending over backwards trying to keep 'em on track."
"oh gosh," you said sympathetically before patting jacob a bit more firmly than melissa had. "jacob, hey. c'mon, it's time for bed. get up, go get cozy."
your words were slurred and hushed, but they seemed to pierce the veil of jacob's slumber as he awoke with a start.
melissa stood behind jacob's chair, gently rocking it back and forth to bring him back to the conscious world.
"can't go to bed, we just started," jacob grumbled, but his eyes were still closed. he was dangerously close to falling asleep again.
"from the looks of it, you're either gonna spend the night sleepin' in this chair or in your bed, so get up," melissa said resolutely.
"yeah, and besides, there's always next time," you assured jacob as he stretched and groaned his way into an upright position. you made eye contact with melissa, and this time you winked.
---
after helping jacob into bed (his motor skills really deteriorated when he got high) and smoking another bowl together, you and melissa were ready to continue your night.
"alright, sweetheart, it's down to you and me," melissa said, sitting down next to you on the couch. "what do you wanna do?" you pondered the question, looking around the room for inspiration.
"oh my god, you have a nintendo switch?" you asked excitedly, gesturing to the black tablet plugged in next to the cable box.
"that's jacob's. he showed me one of the games on there—animal crossing, i think it was. i don't get it. why play a game if you can't win?"
"alright, i know what we have to do now," you said, walking over to jacob's game cabinet and pulling out mario kart 8. holding the case up for melissa to see, you grinned. "four races. whoever wins gets whatever she wants from the other."
you were distantly aware of the implications, but you were too high to reconsider what you'd proposed.
you figured melissa would want something from your thoroughly decorated classroom if she won. if you won, you'd ask her to make you a custom pizza.
"you have no idea what you just started, hon," melissa said with a confident smirk.
"may the best woman win."
---
how the hell was she so good at everything?
melissa had needed some time to warm up to the switch controls, complaining about how the little red rectangle was too small to hold comfortably. but she was a quick learner with skilled fingers, and soon she was absolutely demolishing you.
it also didn't help that your coordination escaped you when you were high. you had driven off of too many ledges to count.
"two wins in a row for luigi," melissa bragged as she crossed the finish line of the third race. "hope you're ready to give me whatever i want, princess. don't think i forgot about our bet."
"daisy won the first race," you pointed out calmly. "i can still bring it back. but you know what this last race has to be?"
"what?"
"rainbow road. it's the perfect final showdown course," you explained, navigating to the course with your controller.
"get ready to be mine for a night," melissa said lowly. god, you knew she was talking about the bet, but she knew damn well what she was doing. by this point your panties were almost uncomfortably wet.
you leaned into her unconsciously as the race countdown began. you both held your controllers tight, almost shoulder to shoulder.
3...
2... (you push down the gas pedal button)
1...
GO!!!
daisy took off with a boost of speed thanks to your timing. luigi had a false start as his engine blew out. you cheered, and melissa cursed.
"how the fuck do you do that?" she asked, exasperated.
"play the game!" you demanded without looking away from the screen.
the competition was intense. you and melissa weaved around curves, nearly fell off the road, passed and bumped each other. neither one of you spoke until lap 3.
coming up on one of the last turns of the last lap, your hands jerked and you swerved. reacting on instinct, you bent your arms dramatically in the other direction to overcorrect.
melissa's arm bumped into yours, sending your controller flying out of your hands.
"hey!" you said, thinking she was cheating.
"hey yourself," she said, her eyes still fixed on the screen.
if she was gonna play dirty, so were you. you thrust your arm forward to grab her controller. but she saw you coming from a mile away. effortlessly, she shifted the controller into her left hand alone and held it up and out of your reach.
desperately competitive (and stupid high), you launched yourself toward the controller. you'd stop at nothing to get even. before you could snatch it out of her grasp, though, your balance faltered. you fell out of your position and started to fall backwards off the couch.
melissa dropped the controller and wrapped her arms around you, pulling you back up before you could hurt yourself. there was only one problem with this heroic act.
you were in her lap now.
her hands remained clasped at the small of your back, and your balance shifted forward. you put your arms out for stability, and wrapped them around her neck.
"careful, don't hurt your pretty head," melissa cooed. the two of you stared at each other for a moment. she surged forward and pressed her lips to yours.
if sitting outside with her felt like floating, kissing her and feeling her body against yours felt like riding the ocean waves. but unlike the atlantic, she was warm. you relaxed into her warmth as her tongue licked into your mouth.
you felt her tongue everywhere. in response to her, you gave a few tentative kitten licks. she moaned, she moaned, and pulled back before giving you one last kiss on the lips.
she stared at you with heated eyes for a while before switching her focus to the tv.
"look, baby," she said smugly while gesturing to the tv screen, where luigi was driving victory laps after placing first on rainbow road. "i won. you remember what that means?"
it was a fair question, considering how many conversations you forgot happened tonight. still, you nodded shyly and bit your lip.
"smart girl," melissa praised. "can you guess what i want from you?"
you shook your head no with a frown. melissa beamed and kissed you on the forehead. then she leaned in to whisper in your ear.
"i wanna touch you everywhere. i wanna hear your pretty voice moan my name and see your face scrunch up when you come. i want you to feel me all over you, and i want you to spend the rest of your life craving that feeling," melissa said her piece all at once, as if revealing a long-buried secret to you and herself.
you swallowed.
"would you let me do that?"
you nodded, pressing your forehead against hers.
"i need to hear you say it," she said softly, so softly you almost missed it.
"i want you, melissa. i have since the day we met."
that was all the confirmation melissa needed to attack your face and neck with kisses.
"sorry, let me just," melissa said as she pulled away abruptly and reached for the tv remote. she changed it to cable mode and navigated to the jazz music channel. "there we go, perfect."
"you're ridiculous," you giggled upon seeing melissa's proud face.
"honey," she leaned in to nip at your ear before whispering, "watch your mouth. you wanna be on my good side tonight, trust me."
you shuddered and wiggled in her lap, aching for her touch. a slow grin spread across her face and her hands found your legs, running up your thighs and lightly dragging her nails along your skin. they soon made their way up your waist to your breasts, cupping and squeezing them. melissa even took two fingernails and circled your nipples teasingly, to which you squeaked.
"do you know how many times i thought about havin' you like this?" melissa whispered. her voice was sweet like molasses and flowed right through you. you could feel your nipples tingling where her fingers had been, swimming in a bubble of desire. "in my lap, all whiny and squirmy."
she pinched your nipple and you keened. you held your breath as her hands once again traveled to your thighs, making a beeline for your core.
"and now i got my angel in my arms," she said, gently spreading your legs for better access. you sucked in a breath and trembled when her palm caressed you through your panties. "but i gotta say, even in my imagination you were never this wet for me."
she punctuated the sentence by pressing her pointer finger on your clit through the fabric, drawing tiny circles. you gasped and hid your face in her neck. the high made every touch feel like it rippled through your whole body. the world felt like it had been knocked off its axis, and melissa was your new center of gravity.
"aw, don't be embarrassed, babygirl. it's cute you're so sensitive," melissa soothed, easing you out of the crook of her neck to face her again. she trailed her fingers down to swirl around your wetness under your panties. "let me take care of you, yeah?"
---
a few minutes later, you were spread out on melissa's bed, naked save for your (now useless) panties. she'd practically carried you to her room as you were baked and horny and unable to walk straight.
in spite of your writhing and needy whines, the redhead took her time to savor you. she kissed every inch of your torso before she even considered taking your panties off, mumbling sweet nothings between love bites.
when she finally pulled away to admire her work, the view did not disappoint. you were panting and covered in melissa's marks, and god, you were her favorite piece of art ever created. all hers.
"alright, sweet girl, i know," she cooed as you continued to plead for her touch with your best pout and puppy eyes. unable to resist you, melissa hooked two fingers in the waistband of your panties. "i'm gonna slip these off ya, okay? there, down they go."
melissa discreetly tucked the saturated material into her pocket. not as a trophy or proof of her conquest; rather, a token from the first of many magical nights with her girl. she would treasure it.
she wasted no time getting situated between your legs so she was face-to-face with your pussy. she inhaled deeply, basking in the heady aroma of your arousal. you overwhelmed her senses. everything she saw, everything she smelled, everything she felt, everything she thought—it was all one big, bottomless pool of you. and there was only one sense left for you to conquer.
the first drag of her tongue up your slit set you ablaze, flames licking from your core all the way to your extremities and your head. she let out a small noise of appreciation, and you felt it more than you heard it.
"you taste like fuckin' heaven," melissa rumbled between determined licks through your folds. her comment reminded you of the pizza, and you found yourself amused at how much things had changed in just a few hours.
"last-meal-on-death-row good?" you joked, and melissa seized the moment of levity to latch onto your clit. you cried out before remembering jacob was sleeping in the next room. you clapped a hand over your mouth.
"mhmmmmm," she moaned in agreement, and the vibrations on your bundle felt incredible. "but if you're still crackin' jokes, i'm not doin' my job."
with that, she shut you up completely. her tongue poked at your clit between harsh sucks. your back arched and melissa changed her strategy, prodding at your entrance with her tongue while her fingers took over on your clit. when her tongue penetrated you, you bit down on your hand to keep from screaming.
"i said i wanna hear you, remember?" melissa pulled out to chastise you.
"but jacob—" you managed.
"is passed out. he's dead to the world. now sing for me, angel," melissa's tongue dove back into your weeping cunt and lapped at your walls. you wailed her name.
"oh, mel, right—ahhh—there!" you mewled as her tongue teased your most sensitive spot. now that she'd located her target, melissa changed her play once again. two fingers replaced her tongue and crooked into your g-spot while her mouth returned to your clit. "close..."
melissa nodded her permission, her mouth busy with your button. with another hard roll of your clit between her lips and drive of her fingers into your sweet spot, you fell apart. you moaned and cried unbidden as she worked you through your orgasm, which felt twice as powerful thanks to the intoxication factor. your body shook in the grip of seemingly endless waves of heat.
your climax eventually died down and you squirmed away from melissa's touch. your mouth opened in dismay when instead of staying by your side, she stood up and disappeared into her closet.
after a short while, the older woman reappeared by your side. she was now nude and sporting a long, girthy strap-on. she placed a few other items on the nightstand, but you couldn't tear your eyes away from the thick faux cock. unless it was to look at her gorgeous tits, which swung with her every move. she was a goddess.
"okay, sweets, i'm gonna spell this out nice and slow because i know your brain is a little messy right now," she said as she crawled on top of you. "i'm gonna fuck you with my strap. and i know it's so big, but i have this to help you take it."
melissa reached over to the nightstand and retrieved a green mini wand vibrator. her intentions were clear, and you gulped. the redhead peppered kisses all over your face in reassurance.
"now relax, little love. let me in," melissa instructed as the wand buzzed to life. she smeared your wetness around your clit with her fingers, then pulled back its hood to position the vibrator tightly against your nub. even the lowest setting was a shock at such a direct angle.
while you were distracted trying to adjust to the clitoral stimulation, melissa aligned the tip of the dildo with your entrance and pushed in. you both groaned, and you felt yourself stretch around the toy. melissa turned up the vibrations on your clit as she progressed to being fully seated inside you.
"that's a good girl, so brave," melissa cooed. you thrashed underneath her, the sensations overstimulating you. the pain of the intrusion staved off a powerful orgasm from the wand vibrator.
again, you wondered if the drugs were messing with your mind—the dildo felt indistinguishable from a part of mel's body, and you were full to the brim of her.
as she began to rock her hips back and forth, you saw her bite her lip. you assumed that the strap had some kind of clit attachment for her based on the telltale signs of pleasure.
melissa built up a steady rhythm and drank in your pathetic sounds of pleasure. her tits swung in your face with every thrust, and you made a mental note to give them proper attention next time. with another tactical increase to the wand's speed, you felt yourself approaching the edge once more.
"you gettin' close? yeah, i can tell. feels too good to hide it, huh bunny?" that was a new one. you clenched at her words and she set the wand to its maximum power, rubbing it up and down on your clit. your vision went white and you spun out of reality as you came. "that's my girl. good little princess, coming so hard for me."
with a few more thrusts, melissa also came to a release. she shuddered and shimmied her hips at random while she rode it out. as soon as she recovered, she turned off the green wand and relieved you. next, she eased herself out of and off of you.
with a chaste peck to your lips, she sat upright and reached for the nightstand. she smiled at your fucked-out expression as she laid out the pajamas she'd picked out for you.
you watched in awe as she took off the strap and put on her own sleep clothes. her red hair was wild from the night's activities and glowed like a warm hearth against the white backdrop of her walls.
in your state, you wanted nothing more than to cuddle up with melissa and fall asleep. but she insisted that you get ready for bed so that you'd be comfortable through the night. she guided you into the bathroom and gave you a new toothbrush to use.
returning to the bedroom, you found a silky green nightgown with flowers on it waiting on the bed for you. given your exhausted and intoxicated state, melissa had to help you into it. neither of you minded. as a reward for your cooperation, she gave you a kiss.
the two of you snuggled into bed, tucked in together with you curled up against her chest. the tides of slumber lapped at your feet.
"g'night, lovebug," melissa whispered as you drifted off. "sleep well. see you in the morning."
and tomorrow would be the first of a lifetime of tomorrows waking up in her arms.
#melissa schemmenti x reader#melissa schemmenti x y/n#melissa schemmenti x you#abbott elementary fanfic#melissa schemmenti smut#wlw smut#4/20 friendly#stoner fic#fanfic
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The point is, Steve can’t hear.
A person can get hit in the head only so many times before it takes effect and does permanent damage. Steve’s incessant claims that being in the front row when the fight breaks down does nothing to him, that he’s safe and alright as long as everyone else is, mean very little in the face of cold, evident facts.
His hearing isn’t intact. It takes him a while to adjust to this reality, but with the help of his friends, he eventually does. Thanks to Nancy’s fierce bullying of the government guys who come to Hawkins to assess the situation and cook up some half-assed excuse for everything that’s happened, Steve now has a small army of well-paid doctors that really seem to be eager to help. He also gets state-of-the-art hearing aids that, well—they work, but Steve’s range of possibilities is still quite narrow. Let a few people into the room, let them speak simultaneously and all he can hear is static, rustles and crackling.
But he’s pliant. He listens when Robin tells him they have to get in the car and hit the road to get to his appointment on time. He lets her help with inserting the aids properly on the days he’s just too impatient and too bugged about how they feel and look to even care if they help him hear. He’s not dismissing her enthusiasm when she starts learning sign language before he even gets a chance to discuss it as his option.
He’s doing a lot of things for her, even if they’re supposed to be important to him first. To be honest, these days it’s mostly doing things for Robin that keeps him going. He would have gone completely numb ages ago if it weren’t for her and her unique ways of picking up the severed pieces whenever he crumbles.
He’s also doing it for Dustin. If Robin is his twin sister, Dustin is the little brother he’s never had. And Dustin… It’s just been too rough on him. It’s been rough on everyone; how could it not be if the only thing they seem to be able to do is wait? Wait for the lab guys to figure out a way to end this. Wait for the panic to cease. Wait for Max to wake up.
Wait for the grief to pass.
They wait and wait, but it never stops—on the contrary, it brings fresh, equally unwanted feelings. They’re always there, lurking behind the corner like a kitten that wants to launch itself at an unsuspecting owner – only with them, there won’t be any playtime involved. Steve recognizes this feeling. It’s the same feeling he’d had in that Winnebago when he was dropping off Max, Lucas and Erica at Creel’s doorstep. An awful anticipation of doom waiting to happen.
He doesn’t like it. He’d like to find a way to do something about it, but he can’t seem to get to the core of it.
Maybe that’s why he thinks he’s hearing things when he really can’t be hearing them.
At first, Steve writes it off as him being paranoid. It happens only when he’s home by himself, so it’s the only logical explanation – he takes off his aids, he gets too attentive about his surroundings, right? He thinks he hears something, but it’s only his tired mind playing tricks on him.
Especially because what he hears are mostly usual, non threatening things. The sound of water running in the bathroom (he goes inside, everything is dry and quiet). The sound of kitchen drawers being opened (he goes to the kitchen, the cabinets are exactly the way he left them). The sound of cutlery being dropped on the floor (but he hasn’t even taken anything out in the first place).
He even gets used to it. Things happen, his brain is weird. It’s confusing, sure, but hasn’t he seen worse things? He definitely has.
But it doesn’t keep him away from sleeping with his bat perched on the side of the bed. If he sleeps at all, if a sudden sound of breaking glass doesn’t keep him awake until his morning shift with Robin, when he can finally leave this goddamn house and take his mind off of things.
Steve tries to ignore it. He really tries, but the point is—Steve can’t hear things like running water in the bathroom when his aids are off. Hell, he only makes it out if he focuses on it when they’re in, so why the heck can he hear it so well? Why are the sounds multiplying?
It goes on for weeks. He avoids the topic for as long as possible, trying to shoo away the obvious similarities between his house and the house that made him hate spiders and cringe at fireplaces not too long ago.
It gets a little too real on just some random Tuesday, when his kitchen positively explodes with sounds the second he gets the hearing aids off. Cabinet doors slam left and right, mugs fall to the floor and shatter, forks and spoons seem to be getting thrown around like ragdolls—but Steve sees nothing. He hears it, he hears it so loudly it hurts, the cacophony of noises he’s never even heard before, but his eyes register no proof of it. He curls down on the floor, expecting sharp glass pieces to cut his skin, but nothing happens. Nothing’s here.
He still covers his head, tucked away in the furthest corner of the kitchen, waiting for it to just stop, to leave him alone—
Steve doesn’t know how long it takes, but when it’s finally done, his knees are shaky and his breathing is ragged. He snatches his aids and takes off, straight to Robin’s house. He doesn’t even lock the door, a thing his parents would kill him for if they knew.
It’s the first time he explains everything to her. It would be hard not to, because she sees right through him. His panicked, restless eyes are enough indication of things not being right.
“Maybe, uh—I think I’ve read something about hearing loss and auditory hallucinations? That they happen, sometimes, especially if the loss of hearing is sudden?” she says, already flipping through her notebook where she keeps all Steve-related stuff and pacing around the room with enough force to make a hole in the carpet.
Steve’s not convinced. “It seems pretty real to me,” he mumbles and frowns. “But that’s the point of it, right?”
Robin shrugs. He notices that she has a small set of wrinkles around her eyes. Steve looks at them for a second in total disbelief. They already have some worry wrinkles, and they’re not even well into their twenties.
He’s gonna lose all his precious hair in a span of months if this doesn’t stop.
*
They decide to bring it up during his next appointment, still hoping that it’ll maybe go away on its own. Robin tries to make him get a consult straight away (what if it is rabies after all, Steve, like a really really really weird, belated presentation of rabies?), but he waves it off. The option of hallucinations doesn’t soothe his nerves, but as long as it’s not a chiming clock, he can avoid confronting it for a while longer.
It doesn’t go away, though. Steve can’t quite pinpoint it, but it almost feels like—well, it obviously doesn’t feel like it’s real enough to be real. But there’s something that accompanies the sounds, the lack of evidence, the missing of this ominous feeling that Creel’s house inflicted on him.
The sounds—it feels like they bear a presence. Steve’s still scared and gets spooked by them whenever they happen, but he’s no longer truly afraid of them.
Some of them are even comforting. The sound of his pillow being fluffed up before he gets to bed, the sound of pen scratching on paper whenever he leaves his journal open on the desk, the whooshing sound of a lighter being opened and closed – they all make this eerie place his parents have left him a little less empty.
He rarely lets himself think about it that way. He may be a little kooky, but admitting that he’s lonely enough to find hallucinations comforting would be way too much to handle at the moment.
So Steve can’t hear, but he learns to accept the fact that, apparently, sometimes he can. He doesn’t know how it works—to be quite honest he doesn’t know a lot about experiencing hearing loss at all, despite now being hard of hearing himself—but it just makes its place in his life.
He thinks about it a lot, but he tries not to overthink it too hard. It just happens. Things fall to the floor in his house, curtains get torn, the fridge gets opened frequently. He just can’t see it. His mind hears it, but his eyes don’t get the memo. He lives for longer than a week. It’s probably a good sign; nothing’s going to make his bones snap in two now, probably. Hopefully.
Things change suddenly.
Steve tries to spend as much time with Dustin as possible. Between work, his appointments and Robin, Dustin, Max and the kids are his top priority. He doesn’t think he would be able to function if he let himself take a breath and step down from his piled up responsibilities that he chose to take on himself. They keep him together. They keep him going.
Besides, Mrs. Henderson gets really worried. Sometimes it’s just better for Dustin to stay with Steve, and Steve is more than happy to be with him, even though it seems that Dustin doesn’t really like his cold house either.
It’s one of Dustin’s quiet days. He gets them, sometimes—Steve knows that trying to get him to talk on one of those days is a lost cause, and his ears are killing him. He was in such a hurry this morning he didn’t take the time to put the aids in properly. Work was overflowing with people, too, so now his temples are throbbing from trying to pick up the chatter from the static. Seriously, how is it possible that people still spend so much time watching movies in the face of almost-apocalypse, Steve doesn’t know.
“Would you mind if I took my aids off for a while?”
“Go ahead,” Dustin mumbles, bending over his new book.
Something flips inside Steve’s chest. He knows it’s not supposed to be like that, it’s unlike Dustin to be so… not himself. But what can Steve do? He can’t make him talk. He can just wait, nothing else.
He gets up to leave his aids on the counter and pour himself some coffee. He should probably start making dinner soon, but he decides to take a few peaceful sips first.
It’s weird. To sit with Dustin Henderson, of all people, without a single word. Steve glances at him every once and again, but Dustin either ignores him or genuinely forgets that he’s there.
Steve’s so deep in his thoughts about Dustin, he doesn’t even look to the side when a sudden sound of kitchen chair toppling over cuts through the silence. His eyes are trained on the kid.
Who flinches. And frowns. Steve can swear that he fights the urge to look around.
Each and every chair Steve keeps in the kitchen is standing where he placed them in the morning after breakfast. Nothing real has happened. But Steve heard it. And, apparently, Dustin did too.
Steve’s brain is working overtime for the rest of the evening, and he desperately tries not to show any of it. He’s jumping into conclusions. It was an accident; dumb luck. It’s nothing. He’s working himself up, nonsensically.
But it doesn’t feel like it’s nothing. It was only one chair, one sound, but the feeling that accompanied it was strong. Too strong to be nothing.
He waits to drop Dustin off at home like he’s on pins and needles, fumbling with his fingers and keys and pacing around. Maybe it’s better that it’s one of Dustin’s quiet days, he mostly gets away with it, getting only a few side glances.
When gets back home, it’s late, but he’s buzzing with anticipation nonetheless. He can finally do something. He discards his aids haphazardly, not nearly as carefully as he should, and starts running around the house. The house his parents built is huge—but the kitchen turns out to be quite small when he’s finally done with arraying at least a dozen lamps there. He has to raid three of his father's garages to get enough extension cords.
When he turns them on all at once, he has to take a step back and shut his eyes, because it’s too much light.
Just the right thing he needs.
His heart is beating so fast he can almost feel it ramming against his ribs. That’s about how far he’d thought this plan through.
“Come on,” he says and clears his throat, trying to gauge how his voice may really sound now. He repeats himself, hoping that it’s louder this time.
Nothing happens for a while, but he knows he’s close. The feeling is here. The presence that hasn’t left him in months. It’s here.
Steve walks around the kitchen, moves the lamps a little, shakes some of them. His hands are clammy and it feels like he’s chewed through his cheek at this point, but he can wait. He’s waited for a long time. He can wait a while longer.
When the microwave beeps, he stops breathing for a second.
Until it beeps again. And again.
“Oh god,” he breathes. He doesn’t know if he speaks clearly or not, he doesn’t even care. “Come on, show me that it’s you. Come on, come on—”
The lamp furthest to the left starts blinking, slowly at first. Then the one next to it, then another one, and another one, like someone’s walking around and making them flicker one by one.
They’re blinking so much one of the bulbs goes out. Steve doesn’t hear it hiss, so he knows it went out here, now. He knows it’s real.
“Oh god,” his hand goes to his mouth. His eyes are weirdly itchy. “Oh god, is it really you, Eddie?”
The lamp directly in front of Steve goes wild. When he reaches out, it’s almost like he can touch the presence that’s here with him.
And it’s Eddie. Eddie’s here with him.
#steve harrington#eddie munson#is he a ghost??? is he a zombie????#a vamp- is he a vampire?!?!?!?!?!?#well he's definitely a creature#robin buckley#dustin henderson#dustin and his dads#!!!!!#steddie#stranger things#st4#fix it fic#of sorts???? at least a beginning of one#im telling you people.... there are explanations#hard of hearing steve harrington#hoh!steve#platonic stobin#because i love them
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Hii! I just saw your Loren art work and HE. IS.SO. CUTEEE!!! 💖💖 the pink collar around his neck is 😍😍 but it made me think of a funny scenario (most likely one where reader knows about his obsession with them and uses it to their advantage)
It was a huge game for the college team. Almost everyone and their grand mama came to see it! Two rival teams competing against each other, both known for their long streaks of winning, and not only that! Loren’s darling is on the sidelines cheering him on! (You are probably just watching the game bored out of your mind cuz the coach FORCED you to be there *saying it’ll give them a higher chance of winning*) unfortunately though Loren’s team seems to be losing by a couple points. The stands are restless and the other teams stands even started mocking the players! With Loren’s coach yelling and hollering he suddenly got an idea.
Coach: OY! Number 13’s (girlfriend/boyfriend)! Get over here!
Surprised at the sudden call over you quickly walked over to him. “What-“ “-no time for Lilly gagging! I need you to give number 13 a pep talk! Some type of motivation! You hear me!? I ain’t gonna let these assholes win!!” He cut you off and told you what to do. Thinking for a minute as he pushed you to where Loren was taking a break on the bench, a thought popped up. You sighed and stood in front of him, he looked up to you in with that cute gaze and a sad smile. “Hey (y/n), I know this ain’t look too good but I bet we can still turn this around!” He tried to stay positive (as positive as you can get when making a fool of your self in front of your crush). You just lowered yourself to his eye level and started talking.
(Y/n): don’t worry bout that, don’t worry about what already happened. Just focus on what you do next. Cuz like you said you still have time to turn it around. *you grabbed the back of his neck and leaned into his ear, whispering* if you do manage to win,I’ll celebrate with you-give you a reward. I’ll do things so VILE to you that it’ll make the devil blush~ *giving him a smirk and a kiss on the cheek you left him on the bench*
Meanwhile the other team:”We are destroying those fools!” “They can’t keep up with us!” “That trophy is—wait do y’all hear boss music??”
Long story short Loren’s team won, the other team had most of their players end up in the hospital and he didn’t leave your apartment for almost 3 days after. (He also couldn’t walk properly for a whole week and had to wear more “covering” clothes for a while) —💖💖 anon
I almost feel like I don’t need to write anything at this point! The scenario is too good too pass up though.
——————————
Loren was frustrated. You could see it from where you sat on the teams bench. Technically, you weren’t supposed to be sat their, as it was reserved for the team and all, but the coach had made an exception for you on account of Loren’s-….crush. Or whatever it was. You didn’t know and you didn’t care.
But you had to admit, seeing that look on his face was a little upsetting. The guy had been sweet to you. A little overbearing, but sweet. And you found it a bit hard to deny the butterflies in your stomach whenever he looked so eager for praise or attention from you.
You weren’t stupid. Loren had made his intentions very clear after the first few meetings. “My lucky charm” he so often said. You found that almost laughable, what with how unlucky you often seemed to be.
That felt all the more true when you watched Loren let out a frustrated sigh, his helmet being roughly pulled from his head as the coach called a time out.
You watched, in a somewhat flattered manner, as narrowed brown eyes found their place on you, and subsequently widened in shock and awe. A wide smile broke onto the star players face as he made a beeline straight towards you.
You stood up once he came to a stop infront of the bench you occupied, and handed him his water bottle.
Loren’s tan cheeks flushed darkly, though you weren’t ignorant enough to assume it was from sweat with the way he was staring at you.
It was intense enough to make your heart beat just a little faster.
He panted after a quick sip, trying to catch his breath and not sound more pathetic than he felt.
“What-“ a deep breath “what’re you doing here? I thought you had a test tomorrow?”
Loren didn’t do much to hide how happy he was seeing you. Though the embarrassment of his previous play seemed to quickly settle in when he realized you had been watching him flounder about on the field.
You gave a soft huff and folded your arms. “Yeah-, well.” You glanced to the side, a bit shyly. You weren’t embarrassed. Only a little actually. Maybe a lot. “I finished early and decided to come see the game. A friend of mine told me it was a big deal or something so I figured I’d might as well.” Actually you knew the whole time. And you skipped studying. The real reason you showed up was because you felt guilty after seeing his face when you first rejected the offer.
God it payed to be pretty didn’t it?
Loren’s smile became all the wider at your answer. Though you spotted what seemed like mirth dancing in his eyes, before he shook his head of the cold water he sprayed onto it and looked deeply at you.
“Well I’m glad you came. Though, I wish you hadn’t see us getting our asses kicked out there..”
Jesus that kicked puppy look was killing you. You imagined he probably felt the brunt of his teams failure. Since he was the captain and all. You felt a bit bad for the guy.
“….”
You bit your lip softly.
Am I really about to do this?
If there was one thing you learned about Loren, Is he was driven by motivation. And nothing got him more motivated than you. He was more like a dog than people realized.
With only a few minutes left in the game, you decided it was a now or never situation. Besides, it wasn’t the worse case scenario.
You didn’t mine the idea actually.
With quick resolve you gripped the front of Loren’s jersey with one hand, yanked him down to your height and gripped the hair on the back of his neck firmly with the other, earning a startled grunt from the burly player who looked at you with wide glazed over eyes.
The way he was staring at you was borderline…..
Whatever that wasn’t important right now.
“Loren. I don’t know why the fuck your playing like shit right now.” Your heart ached at the borderline whimper that poured from the poor brunettes chest, “But I know damn well you can kick this shitty little teams ass.”
Loren’s breath cought in his throat for a moment, and he stared deeply in your eyes as if searching for any hint that you didn’t believe what you just said. But when he found nothing he swallowed thickly with a raging flush.
“(Y/n)…”
Time to real him in.
With a heavy exhale you furrowed your brows and gripped tighter on to his shirt.
“If you make a come back and win this game…”
“I’ll give you a kiss.”
.
.
.
Somehow the deafening roar of the two teams crowds faded instantly into white noise. The bright lights of the night poles buzzed dully in your ears as Loren’s brown eyes burned so hard into you, you swore you’d go blind.
“On the lips?”
“On the lips.”
You watched as this 6’6 hunk of man slid onto his knees in front of you, and you forced yourself not to whip around in embarrassment at the sight and the possibly of a dozen eyes watching you.
Loren breathed deeply, pushing his head into your stomach softly, like a dog asking to be pet, and you couldn’t stop yourself from running your fingers through is soft wet hair.
He shuddered, and shakily exhaled. “Promise?” He begged this wasn’t a cruel joke. Something you were going to hang over head.
“Promise.”
Holy fuck
You’d never seen a guy bolt up like that before. With nimble feet he grabbed your hand and placed a gentle kiss on the pads of your fingers, like a promise of what was to come, before turning around and marching onto the field, helmet now securely placed on his head.
The aura he had was intense. Like he was officially in the game for the first time that night. And it seemed both teams realized this, with the way their shoulders tensed and the audience grew more frenzied.
It was over before the enemy could even blink, and the sound of cheers that followed was deafening.
You could feel yourself smile a bit at the sight of Loren’s teammates crowding around him excitedly, like kids who just won a new toy.
He laughed loudly, though quickly jerked away from their hold and ran to you.
He was out of breath when he reached you, and the furious red on his cheeks was very telling. In fact, you were pretty sure the sweat and heavy breathing wasn’t from the game he just played.
Guess you had to commit now huh?
Loren’s gaze was nothing short of eager and desperate, and the way he licked his lips, seemingly unconsciously made the whole thing seem much more vulgar than it actually was.
It was just a kiss right? Probably barely even a peck.
You should’ve known that Loren was gonna get as much out of that single kiss as he could though.
With quick confirmation from you, Loren’s large rough hands took careful hold of your face. He already looked ruined from just touching you, though that may have been the post game sweat.
Time slowed briefly, and before you knew it you felt a heavy breath on your lips, where the star players hovered for a moment before finally pressing down.
It was soft at first. Gentle. His hand moved to the back of your head, pulling you closer amongst the screams and roars of the fans who watched in awe.
Some angry. Most charmed by the romantic display.
Though when Loren’s other hand slid to your lower back, and his foot inched forward to press further into you, causing you trip, the noises faded out again.
Because Loren didn’t stop kissing you. Even when you’d fallen and your mouth popped open to gasp slightly, and his arms caught your head and cradled it tenderly and possessively, he continued to kiss you. Deeply, passionately, and above all else desperately.
What was supposed to be a pretty and simple kiss quickly turned into a make out, Loren’s hands groping at varying parts of your body but never breaking away. Your hands subsequently finding themselves tangled in his spiky soft hair.
At the sound of a low groan pouring from Loren’s lips you snapped out of it and pushed him away, though he resisted for a moment before remembering where he was.
Lifting himself up, he didn’t appear the least bit embarrassed by the public display as he hovered over you on the dewey grass field.
He looked almost frustrated at the interruption if anything.
The sky was dark above him, and the faint artificial lights glowed around you in his eyes. Though you could’ve argued similarly.
He almost looked angelic. If it hadn’t been for the look in his eyes and the odd firmness on your thigh.
Your embarrassment reached its peak when the coach blew his whistle at the two of you.
“Alright Ortega quite snoggin and get your puebescent ass over here! We still gotta wash up and go over the game! ”
Fuck you wanted to crawl in a hole and die so badly. At least your team won the game right?
It was best you didn’t know the only reason they had been losing in the first place was because a certain wonder boy was pouting over your previous rejection.
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Assistant! Reader x Harry Styles Masterlist
April 2016
“Thank you for meeting me.”
Y/n settled into the seat across from Harry. Her hands curled tightly around her mug, apprehension seeping into her bones. “Of course.”
She had been surprised when Harry called her, asking to meet at the Beachwood Cafe. She hadn’t heard from him in months, not one call or text, not even an email. Not that Y/n really expected much when One Direction finally went on hiatus, but after zero communication, she wasn’t quite sure why he’d called her all these months later.
“How are you? I haven’t seen you in ages,” Harry asked.
Y/n’s eyebrows raised a bit, but she answered him anyway after taking a sip of her coffee. “Fine, I guess. You?”
“Good!” Harry said excitedly. “Taking a break the last few months has been…I don’t know. Peaceful, but odd, you know? I’ve never had so much time to myself before.”
“Must be nice,” Y/n said, trying to hide the irritation in her voice.
“Yeah, but I realized that I kind of miss it,” he said. “I knew once we decided on the hiatus that I wanted to do my own thing, but I thought I would take a longer break, but I feel like I’m…itching to get back to work.”
That definitely seemed like Harry. Y/n had worked for him for years, and even when there were breaks between tours, he was hard at work—writing, going to Fashion Week, collaborating with other artists, vocal training, even trying new recipes in his state-of-the-art kitchen, which led to a phone call at one in the morning where Harry asked Y/n to come over and see if his macrons tasted "fluffy enough." It seemed only right that he rested for mere months before starting a new project. She could practically picture him at either of his homes in LA or London, scribbling in his leatherbound journal or playing new melodies on his guitar or piano (and the occasional late-night pastry party). As long as she’d known him, Harry had been a hard worker through and through. A little on the wild side when he had some tequila in him, but when it came down to his career, he was focused, determined.
“Good for you,” Y/n said, meaning it. She always thought he was capable of more. “So what comes next for you? Have you recorded songs already?”
“Not quite. I’m planning a trip to Jamaica to write and record there. It’s remote, serene, a good place to get away. So we’ll have to start booking flights and places to stay and—”
“I’m sorry, ‘We?’” Y/n asked, her brow furrowing with confusion.
Harry matched her look of confusion with one of his own. “Yeah, I mean—I need you. I can’t do this without you.”
The sentiment warmed Y/n’s heart for a moment, but his immediate assumption that she would drop everything just because he asked her to brought the irritation swarming back. “Mr. Sty—Harry, you know I don’t work for you anymore, right?”
“What do you mean? Are you talking about the hiatus? I just thought we could all use some time off, but…I guess I just thought—”
Harry didn’t finish his thought, but his cheeks were flushed with embarrassment. Y/n would’ve found it cute if he hadn’t been so dense. Resentment still circled around her like a fog, and she wouldn’t let it go so easily, she couldn’t.
“I was employed by your management, Harry. To be an assistant to a member of One Direction,” Y/n explained. “I was let go. I had to quickly find another job doing something else.”
“Oh.”
Y/n supposed she should’ve anticipated being fired, but she didn’t. There was a lot of information that she was privy to that most people weren’t, secrets that were tightly bound by an NDA when she was first hired, but talks of the hiatus was very hushed. She knew to suspect that somewhere down the line the boys would finally take a break, but it came a lot sooner than she was prepared for, and she was left jobless before she had the chance to line something else up. Y/n thought that Harry would give her the courtesy of a warning, but he said nothing about it to her, didn’t offer much except a side hug after One Direction’s last performance.
So yeah, she was a little bitter.
“I’m—I’m really sorry, Y/n. I know it doesn’t make up for…all of this and everything you went through, but I am truly sorry.”
“Thank you.”
Y/n believed him, believed that he was sorry for everything that went down, but it still hurt to know she wasn’t someone he was close enough to talk to about all of this at the time. She was Harry’s assistant, she knew that, but they’d been through a lot together. But he was ever the professional it seemed, and it was her job to remember that, not his.
When she realized her coffee was finished, Y/n stood up. “Well, it was good seeing you, Harry. Good luck on your next project. I’m sure it’ll be great.”
“Wait, but—you’re not—you‘re leaving?”
“I have to run a couple errands before work," Y/n explained. She rested her hand on his shoulder and squeezed gently. “But really, no hard feelings. I wish you all the best.”
She left Harry at the table, heading for the front of the cafe and toward the busy street beyond. Her heart felt heavy as she walked away, but she tried to shake the feeling that she was walking away from more than just her boss. Former boss. Like her mother always reminded her, she couldn’t be a personal assistant forever.
“Wait!”
Y/n turned on instinct, eyes widening as Harry jogged after her, his little bun bouncing with each step. He skidded to a stop in front of her, green eyes wide and searching. For what, she wasn’t sure, but the heat of his gaze was enough to make butterflies stir in her stomach.
Putting on her best front, she raised her eyebrows, waiting for Harry to say whatever he needed to.
“I wasn’t kidding earlier. I need you, Y/n,” he said. “I—You’re the only one who really knows me, who I know will have my back no matter what. I need a familiar face in my corner.”
I need you, Y/n. Those words were her kryptonite. Year after year, Y/n heard Harry's voice over the phone as he roused her from sleep, read the text messages while she was getting her nails done or watched TV in her hotel room, or on the rare occasion she went on a date. But she had to hold strong. Y/n had been devastated by her sudden layoff, but now she had a life, and she didn't want to get sucked back into Harry's very alluring web of charming smiles, cheesy jokes, and endless adventure. That was his life, not hers.
“I have a job, Harry. I can’t just drop everything and quit because you suddenly want me to—”
“What are they paying you?”
Y/n’s brows furrowed. “Excuse me?”
Harry pushed on. “What are they paying you? I’ll double it.”
Scoffing in disbelief, she said, “It’s not about the money—”
“Triple,” he countered. Harry took her hand in his and squeezed it. He looks desperate, Y/n thought.
“I can’t just quit my job because you remembered I existed,” Y/n said quietly, pulling her hand out of his. She clung to her resolve, hoping Harry would make this easy and just let it go, let her go. “I—I deserve more.”
More of what, she wasn’t sure, but Y/n knew it was true. Harry only reached out because he needed something from her, and that hurt more than she cared to admit.
“You’re right. I’m sorry,” Harry said, looking down at his shoes. A pair of scuffed Chelsea boots he wore practically everywhere. Y/n had bought him a pair of Vans one year, an attempt to switch up his wardrobe, but he still chose the boots nine times out of ten. “Just—At least think about coming to Jamaica. Please?”
“Harry—”
“Not as my assistant. As a guest. A friend,” Harry amended. “We’re planning on staying at a huge villa, and I want to make up for being an idiot. Just—Just think about it. Please.”
Despite everything, Y/n found herself wanting to say yes. It was that magnetic pull she felt toward Harry that had kept her working for him for so long. He was an important person in her life, and up until he’d all but ghosted her after the hiatus, she thought she was important to him too. In spite of his misgivings, Y/n still wanted to believe that she was.
It was so stupid, but it felt good to be wanted by him. She was an idiot, she knew that. But her friendship with Harry was legitimate, he'd just acted like a complete idiot. She'd known him long enough to know he was very capable of acting like an idiot. So even though she shouldn’t, even though she had carefully lined up her reasons not to in a little line, she started to cave.
But she couldn’t make the decision now. Not when Harry was looking at her with pleading green eyes and his sad little puppy dog face, his cologne dizzyingly lovely. No, she owed it to herself to really think about what she wanted. If getting sucked back into that whirlwind was worth it. Worth getting her heart properly broken when she knew he would never feel the same about her.
"I'll show up at work, you know," Harry said. "I'm not above it. You might think I am, but I'm not."
Y/n had no doubt in her mind that he would. Along with being an idiot, Harry was very stubborn, and very persistent. She had years with him to know that. Did she really need Harry Styles showing up at her place of work?
“Fine, I’ll think about it,” she finally said, trying to pretend like her heart was screaming to just agree. But her heart was an impulsive little shit that was bound to get her in trouble.
Harry’s face broke out into a wide grin, one that displayed those famous dimples and lit up his entire face. It was hard to feel like he didn't think she was the only person on earth to exist when he looked like that, like he was convinced she’d already said yes. “I’ll take it.”
#harry styles#harry styles x assistant!reader#harry styles x reader#harry styles blurb#harry styles fanfic#harry styles oneshot#harry styles imagine#harry styles writing#harry styles fluff#harry styles x you#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles one shot#harry styles fic
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So. Star Stable's Spotify header.
I saw this on a little trip to SSO's Spotify page to see if they'd released any music without announcing it again and went hm. This looks kind of weird. I sure hope they haven't stooped so low as to use AI for their promo material. And then I looked closer.
First thing I noticed was the stirrups. Or, should I say... "stirrups".
Did they like... employ someone who doesn't know how tack works? What IS that? Also I'm only noticing this as I'm writing the post but why on earth does the boot not have proper laces or eyelets
And what the fuck are these weird straps on the saddle? And the guitar straps aren't attached to the guitar?? Actually... it can't be... but let me look at the hands. Just real quick
Uh. hm. that's not very hand. Are they fucking using AI
OH BOY.
The bit and the reins are... not properly attached to one another, just welded together. The noseband just disappears. The buckles at the top of the bridle don't really exist and the chin strap doesn't fit properly at all. The reins are double on one side, but not the other, and one or both of the reins on the far side almost look attached to the breast collar - or they're just being held a lot looser than the near side rein. Also, you need a very specific type of bit to use double reins, which is not the type of bit that's on this bridle. Or maybe the two weird straps are supposed to be a fucked up martingale, and that's why they're attached to the breast collar? But then why does the horse only have one rein? Also the martingale is attached wrong if that's what it's meant to be, see below (it's never attached directly to the bit). The breast collar is also attached to the underside of the saddle, rather than the saddle itself like it should be. The horse's front shoulder looks like it's drawn by someone who doesn't know very much about horse anatomy, or... y'know... AI.
The cart isn't fucking attached to the fucking horse. Poor guy is dragging that thing along with one singular back leg.
The keyboards all have the wrong number of black keys in the wrong places. And also those knobs do not look right. Oh, and something is DEFINITELY wrong with that drum kit.
And also just look at this fucking horse. Yeah, it's passable as a horse, but have you seen the quality of SSO's horses and horse art??? This isn't even anywhere CLOSE to that
So yeah uh, SSE used fucking AI art for their spotify banner. I feel like this is the greatest punch in the gut they could've possibly sent their laid-off artists' way. You cannot defend this.
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Misunderstanding Lucifer from the Sandman series and why Gwendoline Christie is the right choice (an art historian and occultist's opinion)
I am writing this post as I'm absolutely baffled by the issues people seem to have with the portrayal of the character of Lucifer in the Sandman series. For some reason people find it problematic that the fallen angel is played by Gwendoline Christie, a powerful and androgynous-looking woman, but there is seemingly no problem with Lucifer being played by a black-haired man in the nightclub business (Tom Ellis in the Netflix series 'Lucifer'). Don't get me wrong, Tom Ellis is entertaining and wonderful to watch, but that particular version of Lucifer is neither canon when it comes to the comics nor does it have anything to do with the actual angel Lucifer.
Angels are genderless beings and they have always been portrayed as androgynous in the history of art. Multiple literary sources, including grimoires (books with supposed instructions on how to summon these beings and many others), state that angelic beings as well as demons are able to change their appearance. Many of those forms they might take aren't even humanoid and they can choose not to show any physical form at all. They aren't corporeal beings, the fact that they do take on any resemblance of a physical form is just so humans can understand them better. That's why we've been painting them as human-like ever since the early times of human civilization. What we make to be similar to us is what makes it comprehensible. Portraying beings from other dimensions/realms as human-like but with androgynous features is a way to show they don't belong in the physical dimension, as gender is likely a non-existent concept in other realms of existence. Androgyny of mythical beings, therefore, emphasizes the fact they are different than physical beings such as humans.
Therefore, when portraying an angelic being in art, or in any type of media, making them androgynous is making way for their essence to come through. In a way, the same applies to the way elves are portrayed as ethereal and androgynous since they don't have to be corporeal beings at all, at least when it comes to folklore. I know this opinion might not be understandable to others or it might sound controversial, but I believe that not portraying an angelic being as androgynous and not showing any signs of their divine origin (these include mannerisms that emphasize their etheriality for example, a cadence in their voice that is different etc.) is a huge missed opportunity that might rob these interesting mythical beings of what they are. Not making angels feel like angels beats the point of having an angel character (in a movie, series or video game for example) in the first place.
This is why Gwendoline Christie is the right choice. At a height of 6′ 3″ (1.91 m), captivatingly pale. androgynous with a powerful specific sort of grace and presence - a perfect 'vessel' for the Morning Star. What's more, she understands the importance, complexity, grandeur and the mythical dimension of the figure of Lucifer, as well as the whole 'spirituality' of the Sandman universe which is rather evident from her approach to this role and the interviews she has given so far. I might go so far to say that, even though the Sandman series isn't even out yet (though there is some footage available already), the casting of Gwendoline as Lucifer feels right just as the casting of Lee Pace as Thranduil in the Hobbit felt right and I consider the character of Thranduil to be the best portrayal of a humanoid mythical being on TV. Lee felt like an elven king, moved like an elven king, spoke like an elven king and radiated an energy of the dimension the elven king might have come from (I'm talking about the folkloric 'Otherworld' where elves supposedly live). I feel the same might apply to Gwendoline and Lucifer.
As an occultist, art historian, anthropologist and someone who is rather fond of the figure of Lucifer, I am looking forward to seeing how Gwendoline interprets him. Finally, we might get something completely different from a frequently portrayed 'demonic' side/version of this important mythical character. We might just see the Light Bringer who has not forgotten his divine origin.
- Heidi (@theatrum-tenebrarum)
Gwendoline Christie as Lucifer (The Sandman series on Netflix, out 5th August 2022)
#lucifer#lucifer morningstar#thesandman#sandman#mythology#arthistory#angels in art#characters#neil gaiman#gwendoline christie#comics#thranduil#elves#folklorist#luciferian#occult#occultism#witch#magick#esoteric#myths#myth#folklore#rant#gender#netflix#netflix series#anthropology#androgyny#theoccultinpopularmedia
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'Ex' husband Gojo - The Aftermath- 01
Tags- self harm, miscarriage, mention of cheating
Synopsis- A look at reader's mental state after the entire ordeal with Gojo.
Part 3 // series masterlist
The maid was just about to enter the private chambers of Lady Y/n to pick up the dishes before she stopped in her tracks and started eavesdropping the conversation...
"Taking pills...precautions...pregnancy...we should divorce.....i...carry children......Satoru..."
These were the words she heard. It was as if the ground shifted from beneath her feet. What she heard was the news of the century.
It didn't take her long to run back to her servants quarters and spread the word...
The Gojo household staff comprises of only five women, one is an attendant of yours and two male out of which one is head staff of the household.
All the servants started gossiping about the matter. It didn't take them long to call their friend servants in other big and small households.
In no time the news of The Gojo Satoru and Y/n, the window (as everybody loved to call you in jujutsu society), Divorcing and supposed pregnancy spread like a deadly wild fire...
Satoru was busy in his mission in Seoul, he had no idea of anything and was scheduled to be back in time for the New Year's Eve Party.
An evening event held at the Gojo Clan's Estate which is attended by illustrious people from both sorcerers to non sorcerers backgrounds.
From Japanese Royal family and aristocrats families, The Zenins, The Kamo, The Council of the Higher ups and every other Clans to J-pop stars, actors, models, polticians, wtiters and whoever not!
The Event is a private Party where red carpets and paparazzis are not allowed but the event's pictures sure find their way to Page 6 each year. Displaying the lavish lives of the noble families of Japan.
For the last 4 years, as the Lady of the Gojo Clan, you hosted this lavish party at the main Gojo Estate. Before you, it was your mother in law.
For someone who comes from an average lower middle class family, you have quite the taste in decor, food, fashion, art and knowledge on hosting parties, qualities that are a must for a Wife of high and Noble stature.
Satoru's mother and the entire Clan was very reluctant to have you in the family. She was against this marriage but Satoru being Satoru, her only son and a total mama's boy, she couldn't get herself to say no.
After your marriage, you both, newlyweds, were living in the main estate but after 5 to 6 months Satoru decided to shift to a new house where both of you will start your newly wedded life.
Your mother in law had accepted you in the family after she got to know you and as a gesture wanted you to stay as she wanted to be the"first to get the news of her grandchildren" verbatim.
Every Clan head's wife has a special personal attendant who lives with them in the household. They are supposed to look after the wife as their lady companion, the woman they could rely on.
You too had one, Mrs Kori.
Mrs Kori was your assigned attendant. But she did not lived with you in the same house. You had allowed her to live with her own family, unlike other wives. She only attended official family Events with you as a part of her duty. You have a semi-formal relationship with her.
30th December, 2016
It was about time for the New Year's Event.
Previously, you would enthusiastically start preparations a month prior, considering it is not a small tea party rather a big event where everyone has their eyes on you as you are The Host.
You would rush at the Gojo Estate and get started with placing orders for flowers, preparing the huge garden for guests, writing invitations and a million other decorations. Your mother in law would watch and suggest or support you every now and then since she's been doing this for over 30 years.
But this time, which would have been your fifth year, it was all gloomy.
Satoru's mother was very concerned regarding the both of you. She noticed how this year you didn't celebrate her only lovely son's birthday neither did you began any planning for the Party.
She wanted to come to see what's gotten onto you but couldn't as she took back the reins of organizing the evening party. Although she did let you know through one her servants that she's taken over.
You on the other hand, wanted to recover from everything that has been going on.
Its LIFE afterall. And life is like a river, you cannot stop moving just like that. Moving forward through all the obstacles, IS life.
Your head was convincing you with all motivation it could but your heart just wanted to hold onto the little snow globe containing an Eiffel Tower, one of Satoru's souvenirs that you found by your bed, just sitting in a corner few days ago.
You were aware about the New Year's Event but you just couldn't get yourself out of bed let alone be out of the house and organize a large scale star studded event. All because of everything going on and that day... 25th of December.
You did something which you shouldn't have... a very horrendous action, a very lowly act indeed.
You wanted to go out and free your mind and to prepare yourself to look normal for the new year crowd. The first interaction with people besides your staff since the whole fiasco with your husband went down.
Your friends from the office you worked with before quitting and marrying Gojo, had called you in for Christmas drinks evening. You went and had drinks but later it took turn for the worse when you went to the house of one of your male co-workers who had a crush on you, and spent the night...
In the days following after spilling the entire ordeal to Shoko, you started developing a weird and concerning 'obsession'...
It started accidentally though but eventually you liked it or simply found it better as a 'punishment' for your actions.
It was just an innocent scratch when the glass fell on the ground and shattered and hurt your knee. But slowly, it took a darker turn and you would start to 'scratch' with a razor on your inner thighs.
It didn't take long when you would just think about that night of 25th December while in a bathtub filled with water and you trying to drown yourself in it only to rush out and slit your wrists with the razor in anger and frustration.
It felt weirdly... nice?
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Apologies if i forgot to add your blog
AN- There's a 2nd part to this chapter, which will be released after few corrections. Thank you for your support and patience.
#gojo satoru#gojo x reader#jjk#gojo smut#gojo satoru smut#gojo x reader smut#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk x reader#gojou satoru x reader#jujutsu kaisen smut#satoru gojo smut#gojo x reader fluff#gojo satoru angst#gojo x reader angst#jjk x reader angst#jjk angst#gojo satoru fluff#jjk x reader fluff#jjk fluff#gojou x reader smut#gojou x reader#gojo satoru x reader#gojo#gojo x y/n#satoru gojo#gojou#gojou x reader fluff#gojo angst#satoru gojo x reader#satoru gojo x you
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We have had big shows of narinder, shamura, and kallamar angst. Heket hasn't been fully outright said but certainly implied and noticeable. What about the baby of the family
I AM SO GLAD YOU ASKED ACTUALLY- I have a few comics that get into my idea for what Leshy Angst would be. They moreso tie into heket and shamura's angst as well but he's the first focus of this one specific comic I unfortunately never finished the sketches for...
I posted a few panels from this in a sketch dump a while ago, so here's the continuation of the comic I posted where leshy is flexing his incredible art skills (with a page taken out):
[this is the part where the page is taken out, and also where I'm putting a cut cause this post is super long]
This dialogue/art is all subject to change but this is the base idea! This comic takes place on the one-year anniversary of the red crown schism, and is supposed to explore all of the bishops' relations to the stages of grief. Heket is denial, Leshy is anger, Kallamar is bargaining, Shamura is depression and Narinder is acceptance (lol). Leshy is actually the only one I got the sketches done for which is why I'm happy to hear you ask about him specifically! So in short, my leshy angst is basically him running around in circles screaming WHY WON'T ANYONE TELL ME WHAT'S GOING ON!! WHY ARE YOU ALL ACTING LIKE IT'S OKAY THAT MY FACE IS GONE??? because everyone still sees him as you worded it in your ask, the baby of the family. They don't want to freak him out by saying he's never gonna get his eyes back, shamura as the sibs knew them is pretty much gone, and narinder will never stop hunting them down.
I have a heket angst comic that was supposed to be my first big project, but it got put on the backburner cause I was having trouble writing for it. It's pretty much entirely about her and shamura coming to terms with the fact they're gonna die soon, and making sure the brothers don't ever find out. Leshy and heket's angst directly ties into each other, because one of them is desperate to protect the other and the one being protected does NOT want that.
This is close to the end but there's still more after this part, I have....SO MUCH to say about these comics but I probably shouldn't infodump about my ideas all at one or I'll run out of shit to talk about
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Summary: Aventurine wouldn't mind being your personal mannequin forever if it meant having you this close to him
Fem!reader who's a popular fashion designer all throughout the universe, currently just "friends" with aventurine here, more like sugar daddy tho- very self indulgent because I have my oc in mind while writing this lol
"Not that I'm questioning your process when it comes to your craft, but aren't you tired?"
"Hm nope, not at all are you?"
"I've handled far worse than just standing for a few hours, don't mind me friend, continue"
While that wasn't exactly a lie, it has been a couple of hours since Aventurine was made to be a makeshift mannequin for you, this was supposed to be a day to relax and take both your mind off work.
But it seems that inspiration has struck the minute you laid eyes on a particular fabric store that just got a new stock on a handful of interesting designs, without a second thought you rushed in, your companion had looked away for one second and the next he sees that you've already made yourself comfortable shuffling through the many options to choose from.
As he made his way back to your side, the faint sound of you mumbling under your breath could be heard clearer and clearer, while he didn't quite catch all of it, he was able to piece some things, one of which you wishing you had your mannequin back at the boutique right about now.
"Hey, why not use me for a bit?"
While Aventurine obviously isn't a mannequin, he can sure act like one if you need it, and that you did so you agreed without putting much thought into it, making a mental note to make him a little something as thanks.
And now here you two were, in the middle of the store as you try to pin fabric with your hands on Aventurine's body, he expected this to happen after all he's not the type to willingly volunteer for something without it benefiting him in some way, but he was not prepared for how close you'd be.
Practically an inch away from him, chest against his as you maneuver the fabric in your hands all over him trying to come up with a design in mind, his nose catching a whiff of your shampoo as the top of your head was practically in his face, he's mastered the art of keeping a poker face but a couple hours of this, no one can blame the man for cracking as time goes on.
Luckily for him it seems you've finally finished whatever it was you were doing, he can't even remember even though you were talking about it earlier, his mind growing muddled with serotonin.
He managed to snap out of it as you call over a worker to place an order for your chosen items, and of course pay for it, Aventurine beat you to it though handing his card while softly smiling.
"It's on me"
"What? Aventurine I can pay for it myself, there's really no need to-"
"I insist, it's a treat for how much I enjoyed being your little helper"
Just as you were about to contradict him, insisting even more that you should be the one paying since he already helped you, the worker has already swiped his card handing it back to him and walked off to prepare your order.
You could only facepalm, this wasn't the first time that he has thwarted your attempts at paying for your own things, he's done it so many times you've lost count, and while it's a fact that all of it combined wouldn't make a dent in his wallet, you still couldn't hell but feel guilty.
Not for long though as you could feel a hand gently patting your head, peaking up at him you could see a soft smile on his face.
"You know the deal~" he said in a singsong way
You playfully rolled your eyes
"Yeah yeah, Just let me know when you're free and we'll hang out again"
It was weird to you at first how that was the only thing he wanted after spending so much on you, but overtime you've sorta started to understand it, and want it as much as he does as well.
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