#That's a lot of tags on such a small post Jesus Christ | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

loaksky · 2 years ago

Text

— 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘣𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘶𝘴

the deets — in which you, a quiet healer in the tribe, have the biggest crush on the upcoming leader. sometimes you think the feelings could be mutual. until one night in the glowing forest shatters that.

the who — neteyam x fem omatikaya!reader

the word count — like 7.6k (jesus h. christ)

the tags — idiots-to-lovers (it's teyam, he's the dummy), childhood friends-to-lovers, one-sided pining (reader is a softie).

the warnings — language, a lil kithy kithy, neteyam's emotionally constipated, but he redeems himself! reader's kind of a pushover, but it comes full circle!

the notes — first post for avatar & i'm really excited but a lil nervous bc like ??? i haven't written fanfic in SO long. i imagine neteyam & reader to be a few years older in this fic (eighteen or nineteen), but at the same time the circumstances could fit their current age as well. finally, this is written in a heinous blend of second / third. don't know how to explain, but i think it flows okay? if you like it please leave a request or let's have a chat! (also barely proofread oops).

YOU AND NETEYAM HAVE ALWAYS BEEN IN DISTANT ORBIT. Many would argue the two of you are cut from the same cloth; quiet, noble, mature, but you couldn't feel even more disconnected from the tribe's golden boy even if a chasm would crack the earth between you.

It's why you think it's silly that you'd develop such a yearning, your heart thudding like a war drum every time his amber eyes flit to yours. There's never any weight to his gaze, just fleeting glances among frequent observation, but you can't help but stare.

It doesn't help that his youngest siblings cling to you like a second and third skin, chattering excitedly about whatever piques their immediate interest. You just listen and hum your acknowledgements, a comfort to the two as you move through your studies.

Oftentimes he's sent to fetch his siblings, clearing his throat outside of the tent's flaps to announce himself, then wiggling a few fingers through the opening before peering in.

He's always in a hurry, never biting when you offer him opportunities to linger. You understand, how busy it can be when the whole clan begins to rely on you. So you bask in the short-lived moments in his space, skin scented with salt and the tang of the foliage.

But there are moments when you truly think he sees you. When you cross paths during clan meals, and the smallest of smiles twitches in his lips when you cut fruit and he's the first you offer to. When it's time to train to shoot your bows and he adjusts your form with a brief brush of his fingers on your elbow. When all of the older healers are unavailable and he shyly peeks his head into your tent for a quick patch up.

Nevermind the small tells stored in your short-term, but the little slivers of time when you were both growing into yourselves. When you were seven and he'd carried you to the elders when you hurt yourself. When some of the older kids in the clan would pick on you for keeping to yourself and he'd tell them that it was unbecoming and cowardly to pick on someone weaker than them. When he picked a flower during a group excursion into the deep depths of the forest and stuck the glowing stem in your satchel.

You had fallen so hard for Neteyam and your only hope is that he'd be at the end of the fall to catch you.

“You're not listening, ________!” Tuk whines and you look up from the scrolls you unfurled from the basket moments before she walked in.

“Sorry,” you murmur. “I have a lot on my mind.”

There's a small giggle from somewhere else in the tent and you peer from Tuk to Kiri who beads an anklet on her own.

“Yeah, like big brother,” Tuk teases, turning her attention back to her own beadwork.

Kiri's face splits into a grin.

“You've been lost in thought a lot more recently,” she observes. “Could Tuk be correct?”

You don't bother to deny it, the obvious flush in your cheeks a dead giveaway. Kiri's always been perceptive and the more you fight her on it, the longer she'll draw it out.

“I think it's worth a shot,” Kiri says. “Neteyam’s always had a soft spot for you.”

It's a million degrees hotter in the tent.

“You don't have to do that,” you say quietly, slouching in your seat.

“Do what?” Kiri challenges.

“Pretend I have a chance.”

Kiri makes a face.

“You do!” she argues. “Neteyam's just shy.”

You're silent for a moment, fingers twitching over a tear in the scroll. You want to believe her, tell her that you think it could be worth a shot, too. But you scent him before you hear him, and then you hear him before you see him.

Four blue fingers wiggle in the tent's opening before Neteyam is poking his head inside.

“Tuk? Kiri?” his voice rumbles. “Ready?”

Kiri glances at you as she stands to her feet and begins gathering her things. Her eyebrows do a little dance, eyes widening as she tilts her head discreetly to her brother.

“I'll see you,” you say quietly, patting Tuk on the back of her leg as she drops her finished anklet in your lap and giggles at you.

You follow their movements as they exit the tent through where Neteyam holds the flap open for them patiently.

He simply lifts a hand as a silent greeting and you wait until they're out of sight and earshot to expel the breath you'd been holding and slump down on your pillow.

In hindsight, you should have been more careful. Neteyam was a skillful hunter, the tribe's best warrior after his father. It's only normal that he'd be in the dense forest when you were plucking flowers and herbs for your salves, speaking quietly to Eywa about your concerns.

“Please, Great Mother,” you whisper, the woodsprites caressing the skin of your arms. "Please give me a sign, any form of motivation to be brave about my feelings."

The grass below your toes lights up and tickles the pads of your fingers as you pluck the glowing flowers.

There's a trail of them, purple and pink, and you pluck and pluck and pluck until you're led to the mouth of a clearing.

Something salty and tangy circles your figure and like usual, you scent him before you see him. When your gaze latches onto his lithe figure, you grin a little, lips parting to announce yourself. This must be your sign, of how vast and great the forests are surrounding your looming home tree, it must be fate that you stumble upon him at this hour.

But his name dies on your tongue when he shifts and you see the silhouette of another pressed to his side.

It's another Omaticaya girl, pretty and tall. You'd know her anywhere, the waves of her thick hair, the tinkle of her dainty laugh. But she is fierce all the same, far from perfect, but gritty enough that it doesn't matter.

Te'feyra draws a bow and one of Neteyam's hands come up to adjust her front grasp, fingers closing over hers and the arrow.

“Steady hands to make up for the recoil,” he says softly and your heart is in your throat.

He's engulfing her as she takes her aim and sends the arrow flying through the air.

Somewhere unknown to you, the arrow sticks its landing and Te'feyra jumps excitedly, pressing her lips to Neteyam's briefly.

You back away from the clearing, eyes burning as you fist the flowers so hard they wilt in your hands. A twig snaps underneath your weight and from your distance, you see the glow of Neteyam and Te'feyra's eyes through the brush.

You take off running without a single word, and despite your stomach tearing itself to ribbons, you thank Eywa for the clarity.

“Something's wrong,” Kiri says to you days later.

Instead of the tent, you two are sitting on opposing branches of a thick tree, observing the flora and fauna of your corner of the forest. You decide that you need some time away from the bustle of the clan's circle and venture off into the opposite side of the woods.

“Why do you say?” you wonder, scribbling onto one of your scrolls.

“You're naturally quiet, I get that, but the past few days, I feel like I've been in the presence of the dead,” she sighs, staring down at you from the branch above. “And Ewya's given me the feeling that all may not be well with you.”

You lick your teeth, then roll your lips nervously.

“I told you Neteyam didn't like me,” you admit.

Kiri's eyebrows furrow.

“What are you talking about?”

“I saw him,” you sigh, fiddling with your pen. “In the forest with Te'feyra. She kissed him.”

Kiri curses under her breath.

“This is stupid,” she huffs. “He's just being stupid. Neteyam likes you and I'm going to prove it.”

You open your mouth to protest, but Kiri's already jumping down from the branches of the tree and dragging you with her through the darkening forest.

“Kiri, this isn't necessary,” you finally pipe up. “It's okay if the feeling isn't mutual, I never expected it to be.”

Kiri stops in her tracks and her pinched face softens, braids swinging by the set of her jaw.

“________, we all grew up together,” she says softly. “I know my brother, and I know you. You two belong together, I feel it.”

You swallow around nothing, allowing her to drag you through the forest and back into the clan's main circle.

“Hey, Kiri! ________, where are you two headed off to in such a rush?” one of the elders calls from where they're working on tools.

Kiri smiles politely.

“Very important business,” she replies quickly, fingers tightening around your wrist to pull you across the grass.

You stop in front of their family's hometree and Kiri guides you through vines and steep inclines before pausing in front of their family's tent.

Lo'ak's voice sounds from within, whiny and irritated.

“Bro, are you being serious right now?” he squeaks and Neteyam grunts, obviously bored.

“Frankly, Lo'ak this has nothing to do with you,” he says.

“Dude, yes it does,” Lo'ak argues. “You've inadvertently involved everyone in this affair because you won't get your head out of your ass for three seconds and just admit that you like her.”

“I don't like, ________,” he says simply and Kiri freezes in front of you.

You chew the inside of your cheek, fingers twitching in Kiri's loosened hold.

“Who are you trying to convince?” Lo'ak moans. “You're really going to commit to Te'feyra even though you have no interest in her?”

“Te'feyra is a great huntress,” Neteyam says simply. “She's well-loved, a strong leader. What's there not to like?”

“________ is all of those things,” Lo'ak says. “She's a talented healer, always patches you up when you get yourself in trouble. The clan loves her, Tuk and Kiri love her, Mom and Dad love her.”

“The clan barely knows that ________ exists,” Neteyam says and you wince.

Kiri makes a move to infiltrate the heated conversation, but you put a hand on her shoulder and shake your head.

“Dude, that's low,” Lo'ak scoffs in disbelief.

“________ is a sweet girl, but she's weak. She's hollow and does what she's told. I wouldn't want to spend my life bonded to someone so passive,” Neteyam says plainly and Lo'ak lets out an exasperated hiss.

“You're kidding right? ________ is amazing,” Lo'ak challenges. “She's quiet, but she's caring. She's resilient and intelligent and anyone would be lucky to be bonded to someone like her, your stupid ass included.”

“Maybe you should focus more on training for your rite rather than trying to play matchmaker,” Neteyam says, showing the first signs of annoyance.

“You just won't admit that for the first time you're scared,” Lo'ak finally says.

Everything seems to still and Lo'ak presses on.

“Everyone loves you, you're the clan's golden child and you can do no wrong. You like ________ so much, but you're afraid that you'll let her down,” Lo'ak says fiercely. “But you don't realize that being a pussy about your feelings is the ultimate let down!”

“You'd know a lot about being a let down, wouldn't you,” Neteyam grumbles.

There's a split second of silence before Neteyam lets out a loud grunt of pain. The flap to their tent flies open and Lo'ak freezes before you and Kiri.

His eyes meet yours and his gaze softens before stalking past.

Neteyam stands stunned in the middle of the tent, lip bruised and bleeding. His gaze swings to the arch way, face falling when he finds you standing behind his younger sister.

“Wanna go swimming?” Tuk asks you the next evening, after dinner.

You smile down at her weakly, heart melting when she pets your hand. You can't deny her, nodding gently as you stand from where you're sitting on the outer circle of the scattered clan.

“Carry me?” she asks sweetly.

You heave her up with a grunt and she grins at you, playing with one of the braids in your hair. Her small fingers caress the skin of your cheek and you blink when she ghosts over your eyelid.

“Pretty,” she whispers, head nestling on your shoulder.

“I think you're prettier,” you tell her, readjusting her growing form as you walk through the brush, towards the rush of the waterfall.

You don't realize that there's a set of eyes on you, watching as you disappear through the trees with Tuk.

The cliff that houses the waterfall towers above you two in a semicircle, the water rippling gently as Tuk squirms from your grasp and splashes through the shallow pool.

“Stay close, Tuk,” you coo, toes wiggling through the pebbles washed up on the tiny shore.

“I've been practicing!” Tuk tells you. “Wanna see how long I can hold my breath under water?”

“Stay in shallow waters,” you advise her, wading into the pool until you're waist deep.

Tuk dramatically inhales and then sinks down under the surface. Something cracks in the distance and you glance around, met with the stillness of the forest and the chirp of bugs.

When you turn your attention back to Tuk, you smile fondly as you wait for her to emerge, counting the seconds diligently to report to her chubby cheeks.

Fifteen pass, then thirty. Your smile begins to fade as your arms feel around in the water around you.

“Tuk?” you call out, chest tightening when you're met with the subtle rush of the glittering cascade from the waterfall up above.

You push forward in the water until your chin touches the surface.

“Tuktirey!” you shout, thrashing around the pool, searching for her tiny frame through the illumination. “Tuk!”

Your toes lose purchase as the water deepens and you begin to panic without the youngest Sully in sight. You turn when you hear a splash, Tuk giggling on the shore.

Your stomach churns hard and Tuk's face falls when she sees your panicked expression.

“Tuk, I-I can't swim well!” you cry out, legs flailing as you splash through the water. You try to dig your toes in the earth below, but you're just shy of the mark.

Tuk looks scared on the shore, fidgeting as she looks around desperately.

“You're too deep, ________!” Tuk whines, voice laced with tears.

Your legs ache, head lolling under the water for a moment before you emerge with a splutter.

“Get– Go get help!” you instruct her, feeling your calves begin to burn as you try to keep yourself afloat. You don't know how long you'll be able to tread water. “I'll be okay, little one. Hurry!”

Tuk turns, picking up her satchel as she makes way for the path you took. When she's out of sight, you fall slack, chest heaving as you try to use your skinny arms to paddle at the water.

Meanwhile, Tuktirey runs through the forest, tears spilling down her rounded cheeks as she trips over sprawling roots and nudges low-hanging vines from the pathway.

She skids to a stop when Neteyam, who had finally worked up the nerve to excuse himself from dinner, comes into view.

He turns when he hears her wailing, face scrunching when he registers his youngest sibling's anguish.

“Tuk, wha—”

She grabs at his hands, tugging him towards the path to the waterfall.

“________ needs help!” she cries. “She can't swim!”

Neteyam's ears prick at the mention of your name, scooping up his youngest sibling in his arms before breaking into a sprint through the brush of the brightening forest. The woodsprites begin to emerge and he barrels into the clearing of the waterfall breathlessly.

It's still, like it's been untouched and his heart hammers nervously in his chest, eyes searching the pool for any sign of you.

He's setting Tuk down quickly before splash desperately into the water.

“_______!” he calls.

He ducks underneath the surface, eyes open wide as he searches for you. And there you are, body slack as you sink slowly to the bottom of the rocky pool.

He dives forward, lungs burning as he cuts through the waters with lean arms. His fingers circle one of your wrists, the other hand winding around your waist as he propels you two up above the water. He chokes on a breath, hand coming up to touch your face.

Your head lolls to the side, eyes shut as Neteyam holds you close.

“Neteyam!” Te'feyra calls from the shore, having followed him after being rebuffed during dinner.

Kiri and Lo'ak are close behind, eyes wide when they see their eldest brother wading quickly through the waters with your unconscious form in his arms.

“Neteyam,” Te'feyra repeats, hand coming to grasp his bicep.

“Not now,” he grunts, tugging his arm from her grasp to march through the brush of the forest.

Woodsprites surround you two as he takes you back to the village, a silent plea to the Great Mother not to take you away weighing heavy on his lips.

You awake to a shining sun and a wet towel on your head. You squint against the beaming light and sit up abruptly as the prior night dawns you like a swift strike to the gut.

“Whoa, wait, slow down,” a thick voice rumbles.

You scent him before you see him.

Neteyam's hands are on you, guiding you back to rest on the pile of pillows that had propped you up before.

You shoot up again anyways.

“Where's Tuk?” you ask anxiously.

“Tuk's fine,” Neteyam says. “She's eating breakfast with Kiri and Mom.”

You lean back in relief, eyes squeezing shut as you wheeze out a sigh.

His hands are on you again, gentle, warm as he takes the towel from your forehead and wipes your face to refresh you.

“Are you okay?” he asks quietly, hesitantly.

You pause a moment, but then nod.

“Yeah,” you affirm hoarsely. “M'fine.”

Neteyam just stares at you, yellow eyes unblinking and you know this isn't like one of those fleeting moments. He sees you and it makes your gut churn hard.

“I'll be okay here,” you say quietly. “You may have...someone, you know, waiting for you.”

Te'feyra's name is a silent implication and Neteyam doesn't look amused.

“I told them I would look after you until you're fully well,” he counters, wringing the towel into a bowl that sits next to the mound of blankets your rest on.

You fiddle with your fingers, fully disheartened because even in times like these, he remains the diligent leader-in-training that he is.

The air in the tent is think and you can't breathe.

“I'd like some air,” you whisper, crawling from the soft mat to climb to your feet shakily.

“You need to rest,” Neteyam says crossly, seemingly annoyed at your persistence to put as much distance as you can between the two of you.

You don't respond and finally he seems to burst.

“You can't swim and yet you still went after Tuk,” he calls after you like an accusation. “Why?”

You pause.

“Tuk is like a sister to me,” you say quietly. “I would never let anything happen to her.”

You make a move to exit the tent, but Neteyam's voice stops you in your tracks.

“You could have died,” he says quietly, and you can't place the emotion in his voice.

“I'd do it again,” you admit, craning your neck to face him. “I'm not that weak.”

Neteyam's face falls and you duck from the tent.

Neteyam becomes restless after that moment. He loses his focus, agility taking a hit as he hunts one on one with his father.

He goes to shoot another arrow, but Jake stops him with a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“Neteyam, I know I can be hard on you,” he starts. “But I’m always here.”

“Yes sir,” Neteyam nods.

“Something’s bothering you,” Jake observes. “You’re not yourself. You’re losing focus.”

Neteyam swallows.

“Sorry, sir,” he says, head hanging.

His braids form a curtain around his face and Jake gives his shoulder a squeeze.

“Son?”

Neteyam swallows again, head tilting up to look is dad in the face.

“I don’t want to be with Te’feyra,” he admits quietly.

Jake's lips twitch.

“Well I could have told you that,” Jake scoffs, the corner of his lips twitching into a soft smile. “You look about as dead as a washed up fish when she’s around.”

Neteyam recalls the kiss she’d given him nights ago and how he'd internally recoiled, body stiff under her touch.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats.

“Why are you sorry?” Jake prods.

“Because I know Te’feyra is who the clan wants me to be with, who is my most suitable match,” he says. “I just— I don't want to let you down.”

Jake gives him an impish grin.

“Neteyam, let me give you a word of advice. There are things in this world that are suited well for each other; you and Te'feyra are one of those things. But your heart and your mind are the two most powerful things about you,” he says. “You will not be punished for giving into your heart.”

Neteyam thinks of you. He thinks of your face, the lines of your timid smile, the idents that dimple your cheeks. He thinks of your touch when he's wounded, gentle and expert, warm against his skin. He thinks of your voice, airy, soft, a low rasp.

He thinks of when he'd called you weak. Of your face, wounded and hurt. He's stricken in this moment as he realizes that strength doesn't have to be audacious. It can be quiet, small acts that become mighty.

Tuk had told him about the waterfall, how she'd wanted to pull your leg a little. You'd accepted your fate if Ewya deemed it time, you'd even sent the youngest away in the chance you wouldn't surface.

You were far from weak. Your strength ran nearly as deep as the roots of Ewya herself, yet you'd taken the criticism in stride. Let Neteyam paint you as a coward, a pushover with no spine.

“I think there’s someone you need to clear the air with,” Jake says after a few moments of silence. “She should be in her tent.”

Neteyam's hands are clammy. It's been nearly a week since he'd last seen you. You'd reserved to spending time inside of your tent to brush up on your studies and refine your work. He'd catch glimpses of you, but you were used to blending in the background and Neteyam's used to overlooking you.

Was he being presumptuous? Maybe you only admired him as a warrior. Or perhaps it was a duty to the clan to revere him. He feels sick to his stomach thinking of confronting you. But Lo'ak wouldn't try to convince him of his own feelings if it wasn't mutual, would he?

And when had the feelings become mutual? He's recently began to think that perhaps he'd always liked you because you were the only one who didn't actively vie for his affection. Who only saw him as Neteyam, an equal, not Neteyam, the Olo’eyktan's son.

Maybe it was whenever he'd see you wandering in the forest during his hunting trips, murmuring to yourself as you picked herbs and flowers for you studies. Or maybe when he'd spot you still high on the branches of the lofty trees with a tablet of paper and ink. Maybe it was when you'd smile at him shyly when he'd adjust your form during archery and it'd melt his insides. Or when you two were little and he'd plucked flowers for everyone and you were the only one who'd smiled at it sticking out of your satchel.

If he recalls correctly, it's pressed to a scroll hanging in your tent and that alone makes his heart race.

Maybe you two are inevitable and he'd only prolonged it because of his own fears.

“Neteyam!”

Te’feyra steps in his line of sight, standing before him and the hometree that houses your tent. He glances away when she stops in front of him.

“Te’feyra,” he greets cordially.

“I haven't seen you since the incident with ________,” she says. “Are you alright?”

Neteyam nods.

“Never better,” he says simply.

“After dinner we should–”

He spots you, satchel thrown over your shoulder. You glance his way momentarily, but scurry in the direction of your tent when you lock eyes with him.

“If you will excuse me, please,” he says politely, extricating himself from Te’feyra to follow after you.

He catches up to you right outside of your tent.

“________!” he calls.

You freeze almost imperceptibly, but continue on your way, climbing the flattened incline spiraling around the center of the hometree.

“________,” he murmurs, fist closing around your skinny bicep.

You jolt to a stop, golden eyes razor sharp as you glance down at him. Your fist is wrapped tight around the strap of the satchel, knuckles stretched taut.

“Neteyam,” you reply softly. “Yes?”

He opens his mouth to say something, but finds that his tongue weighs heavy behind his lips.

“If you seek help, there are elders available for healing,” you inform him, making a move to remove your arm from his grasp.

He instinctively tightens his grasp and you shift uncomfortably.

“Sorry, sorry,” he says quietly, pulling away. “I just want to speak with you.”

A few beats pass as you blink at him.

“Well?”

“Oh,” he swallows. “Can I come in?”

You turn to face the flap of your tent before craning your long neck over your shoulder to nod.

“Sure,” you agree, holding the hide open to let him in.

You step in after him, table scattered with mixtures of finely-pounded dust, scrolls of research and bundles of materials.

You set your satchel down and begin unloading your finds from you excursion.

Meanwhile, Neteyam paces nervously, trailing the circumference of your tent, eyes flitting every which way to take in every piece of you.

A thick silence envelops you and you clear your throat when the satchel is empty.

“You wanted to talk?” you ask, watching as he stops in front of a scrolled tacked to one of the beams.

It's the pressed flower he'd given to you all that time ago as children. It's central in the room, catching the sun so beautifully and Neteyam uses this as the last bit of courage he needs to continue.

“You kept it,” he says, voice shaky.

“Of course,” you say simply, picking through your different finds. “You gave it to me.”

Neteyam turns, looks you head on and he feels his resolve crumbling.

“You like me,” he says bluntly, afraid that if he beats around the bush, he'll cop out.

“Everyone does,” you deflect.

Neteyam's jaw locks.

“No, ________, you like me,” he repeats.

You feel small, sorting the petals by color, fingers nimble against the soft grain of the wooden tabletop.

“Presumptuous,” you hum, unable to meet his piercing gaze.

“________,” he presses.

You bite your lip, tears clouding your vision as your fingers begin to trembling through the sorting. He's being so unfair and he doesn't even know it.

“Why?” you ask shakily.

“What do you mean why?” Neteyam counters, voice taking on the same edge he did with his brother days prior and he'd interrogated him about you.

“Why are you doing this?” you croak, and he hears the tears in your voice.

He's across the floor before you can blink.

“Are you crying?” he asks, shocked.

“Why do you want me to say it so badly?” you choke, poor petals strangled in your vibrating fist. “Is it not enough? To know that I yearn for you silently? That everyone pities me because my heart belongs to someone who's already spoken for?”

Neteyam is stunned.

“I like you, Neteyam. I always have,” you say, voice raw with emotion. “It's my biggest defeat to say I always will. Is that what you want to hear?”

Your eyes are tinged red and his throat feels stuffed with cotton.

“I've always admired you,” you say quietly, between hiccuping breaths. “But I didn’t know you could be so cruel.”

Neteyam winces, every word he’d practiced earlier, completely obliterated from his short term. He knows he should just tell you, tell you that his heart yearns for yours, too. That he'd been too blinded by his impending duty to feel the full effects of what a first love could be like.

“You should go,” you say when he's silent.

You brush your tears away and pat your cheeks dry with the back of your hands as you carefully set the wilted flowers the the edge of the table.

“I–”

“Neteyam, spare me, please.”

“I don’t want to,” he finally says.

Your eyebrows furrow, eyes swollen as you gaze at him unjaded. Who he believed to be so stoic and passive now baring every possible inch to him.

“You're–”

“I don't want to be with Te'feyra,” he finally spits, fists clenched. “I won't be with her.”

Your gaze softens, lips parting to ask what's gotten into him, but he cuts you off.

“You,” he answers firmly, before the question clings in the air. “It’s you. I want to be with you.”

"Stop," you whisper, shaking your head furiously. You take a step away from where he's quickly closing in on you. “Don't–”

He pauses mid-stride and the expression on his handsome face is absolutely devastating. His chest rises and falls shakily and you take a moment to meet his eyes.

“I’m sorry I didn’t notice it before,” he says desperately, “I was scared and didn't fully realize it, but I do now.”

“That’s unfair,” you hiccup. “This isn't just on your terms. You can’t— you can’t just tell me you like me and expect me to be with you.”

These passing moments are the most he’s ever heard you speak, and he’s afraid that he's severely underestimated you. It doesn’t taste so sweet now that he’s faced with the reality of things.

“You will be the future leader of this clan,” you continue. “That is a great responsibility that you've prepared for your entire life. Who you decide to be with is a permanent fixture that cannot be undone.”

“I know, I know,” he assures you.

“You find it in your heart pity me, Neteyam,” you breathe quietly. “But do you really want to be bonded to someone passive and weak?”

He opens his mouth to argue, but you've squared your shoulders, stomach caving and expanding with a deep breath. You turn to your prior task.

“You should go,” you repeat. “Duty calls.”

“What do you mean you need help?” Kiri asks incredulously, eyes widened at her older brother.

“________,” Neteyam says. “She's icing me out.”

Kiri's face melts in relief and she scoffs a laugh.

“Do you blame her?”

“Kiri!” he pleads.

Kiri stops her movements, falling back on her haunches to meet Neteyam's desperate gaze. It's so unlike him, being uncertain, nervous. He's picked up the habit of fiddling his fingers and Kiri snorts to herself.

“Actions,” she says simply.

“Huh?” he vocalizes.

“Words mean nothing to ________ if your actions don't support them,” she says. “This entire time you've acted so lukewarm towards her. Of course she won't believe you when you decide to acknowledge that you love her.”

Neteyam's throat bobs as he stares down at his sister.

“And how will I do that?” he presses.

Kiri shrugs.

“Not so mighty warrior now, are we?”

As the days progress, you begin to grasp at finally coming to terms with the tattered remains of what's left of you and Neteyam's frayed relationship. Your heart hasn't stonewalled him completely, but the yearning for him has dulled to a slight ache.

His eyes are piercing every moment you share the same vicinity. Kiri would even try to argue you that it's longing, but Neteyam's a slave to his honor and you aren't convinced.

“You should pity the poor boy,” an elder tells you as you cut up ingredients for the evening's dinner.

You pause, fingers tightening around the handle of the knife. You roll your lips together before briefly meeting her gaze, warm under firelight.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you deflect, clearing your throat.

She laughs, peeling a purple fruit.

“Neteyam,” she says forwardly. “Hasn’t taken his eyes off you in who knows how long. Will you continue to let him suffer?”

You want to argue that it's you who's suffering. That the heart that beats inside the hollow of your ribcage feels like it'll tear in two every time you recall the venom in Neteyam's voice when he'd called you weak.

“I doubt his suffering has anything to do with me,” you say instead. “We are only acquaintances.”

The elder laughs again.

“Is that why he's been pestering the elders for input on how to sway your heart?”

Your head shoots up from where you've focused on the fine cuts of vegetables.

“What?”

“He’s been slacking on his duties, instead poking around the elders and villagers trying to pry information about you,” she says. “Heard him muttering about what kind of flowers you like.”

“It will take more than flowers to sway my heart,” you mumble.

“So you admit that there's something there, hmm?”

Your cheeks heat, caught like a fish in warm waters.

“I–”

“I'd argue that Neteyam’s liked you longer than you've liked him,” the elder says simply.

You bite.

“Why do you say that?”

“He's always asked Eywa for courage, and it seems like she gave you as an answer.”

The elder climbs to her feet, leaving you near the open flame. You open your mouth to call out to her, but the scent of salt and leaves envelops you before you can say anything.

You crane your neck and find Neteyam a few paces from you.

“Do you have a few moments?” he asks politely.

You want to say no, tell him that you'd offered him an infinite amount of moments that he'd spent building bridges between the two of you, but if he's a slave to his honor, you're bound by heart.

“Okay,” you say hesitantly, abandoning your task.

He holds his hand out for you to take and your fingers slide across his warm palm as he pulls you to your feet. Once he secures your hold in his, he tugs you along.

You don't know where he's taking you, or what he could possibly want with your time, but you feel a thousand times more nervous than ever now that the tangled web of your feelings drapes the both of you.

After a few moments of rugged silence, climbing through bushes and brush, he punctures the quiet.

“Are you well?” he asks.

“Yes,” you answer after a moment. “You?”

“Truthfully?” he responds, pausing to face you. You realize his hand still engulfs yours. “No.”

“No?” you parrot shakily.

“No,” he affirms. “I've been hurting actually.”

Your eyebrows furrow.

“You should seek help if you have an ongoing–”

“Here,” he says, the hand still caught in his being guided to lay flat against his chest. You can feel his heart hammering behind his ribcage. “It hurts here.”

You swallow, pulling away from his grasp when you realize his insinuation.

“Don’t,” you warn.

He breathes a shaky sigh before taking a step towards you. He's corded muscle and warmth as his palm comes to cradle your jaw. Your bottom lip twitches as you stare up at him.

“It’s always been you,” he says quietly, thumb brushing your chin as his eyes map every curve of your face. “I think I’ve always known it deep down, but...”

Your hand comes up to meet his, gently prying his touch away.

“Neteyam,” you sigh. “Had the last few days unfolded differently, I don't think you'd been saying this now.”

“Maybe not now,” he agrees. “But one day, I would. I know I would. Because when I recall every fond moment, you’re there. No matter how close to the background you get, you’re always there.”

You look skeptical, and Neteyam knows he's losing you. So he digs in the small knapsack he has slung over his broad shoulders and pulls out something thin.

When he holds it up with shaky fingers, your breath catches in your throat. Strung through the taut brown of tree vine is a line of beads identical to the one that he wears on a braid tucked behind his ear. Upon closer inspection, you notice the blue and purple beads formed to create your favorite flowers.

“Wha—”

“Until you decide you want to be mine,” he says, voice trembling nervously as he takes your arm and gently slides the band up until it fits snuggly around your bicep. “So that you remember I'm always yours.”

Your voice is caught in your throat as he brings your fingers up to his lips.

“I won’t push you,” he says when he realizes your words have evaded you. “But I’ll wait for you.”

“Neteyam–”

He simply smiles at you, golden eyes shy as he takes a step back to admire his handiwork. He seems satisfied, triumphant, when you eye the band but make no moves to remove it.

“I’ll wait for you,” he repeats, giving your fingers a squeeze before running off.

“He did what?” Lo’ak shrills a week later.

The younger three Sully's had hunted you down and brought you to the clearing dedicated to archery training.

Slender fingers wrap around your wrist and elbow to turn your arm to examine the band with wide eyes.

You can’t help but smile gently to yourself, watching the way the sun catches the reflection of the pearlescent beads and reflects them brightly.

“I knew that dummy was planning something,” Kiri grumbles. You bite your lip when she meets your gaze. “Well?”

“Well what?” you ask, arm still in Lo’ak’s grasp.

He twists playfully and your laugh glitters in the air.

"Are you going to put my knucklehead brother out of his misery or what?" Kiri hisses, arm drawing to shoot a arrow that stabs the target about a centimeter too left.

Tuk giggles as she runs up to the target to examine the damage.

“Yeah, please do, he's in love and it's disgusting,” Lo'ak grumbles, still eyeing the cuff.

Your heart skips at the mention of love, cheeks going warm when both Kiri and Lo'ak notice how you've gone quiet. They begin laughing, dealing you playful punches.

“Stop that,” you scold, swatting their hands away. “I haven’t given him an answer yet.”

“Oh, get real!” Kiri huffs. “You are so in love, you know you'll say yes.”

“Please put me out of my misery,” Lo'ak moans. “I'm tired of being his therapist because he's a little bitch.”

“Lo'ak,” you warn, eyes narrowing.

He giggles and Kiri stifles a laugh as you flounder, cheeks blooming under the siblings' teasing.

“You are both so awful,” you say petulantly, arms crossing one over the other. “How are you so sure I’ll return his feelings?”

It's Kiri's turn to groan, eyes rolling.

“Sure enough that I know if I let you in on a little secret, it'll light a fire under your ass,” she says seriously.

Your spine goes rigid, arms loosening as you wait with bated breath.

“Neteyam may choose you, but if you don’t choose him back quickly enough, someone could swoop in and claw that chance from you,” she shrugs.

Te'feyra's name is an ugly insinuation and something green coils its way into the pit of your stomach as you recall the chaste kiss she'd pressed to Neteyam's lips all those nights ago in the forest.

“Gears turning?” Lo'ak lilts.

They definitely are and suddenly you feel small, digging your big toe into the dirt to drag lines through the forest floor. You nod hesitantly, band suddenly tight around your bicep.

In your ruminating, Lo'ak and Kiri pass a knowing glance.

“Well?” Lo'ak prods.

You fidget, rattling with nerves.

“I suppose...”

Lo'ak sighs and his hands come down on your shoulders to steer you through the clearing.

“Where are we going?” you squeak.

“To put everyone out of their misery,” Lo'ak huffs.

The forest seems way more alive than usual, glowing so bright it almost overpowers the sun. Woodsprites gather around as Lo'ak nudges you through the thick foliage and you can't help but think about the sweet smile that curled on Neteyam's lips as he assured you that he was yours. All yours.

The fire crackles in the distance and you know that the morning meal is in the works when voices roar quietly meters away.

Neteyam sits near the center, surrounded by elders and the dreaded girl.

Te'feyra's obliterated every single centimeter of space available, nearly melded to his side as the elders talk animatedly over the two.

You want to turn back, uncertainty vice-like, but Lo'ak squeezes your shoulders as a silent plea. Not even a moment passes before Neteyam peels himself away and begins putting distance between them.

When Te'feyra gives him a curious glance, he gives her an uneasy smile.

“Be courageous, ________,” Lo'ak encourages. “You're one of the strongest people I know.”

With a final pat on the back, he pushes you towards the circle and the sudden movement catches everyone's gaze.

“________,” one of the elders calls fondly.

You smile and bow your head, fingers twitching at your sides.

“Hello,” you greet quietly, eyes swooping hesitantly to Neteyam who rises to his feet, already watching you intently.

That's when you notice it, the choker fastened around his throat. The vine is identical to yours, but it's strung with a line of beads that mirror the ones woven into a singular braid at the nape of your neck.

You hadn't realized that he'd noticed it all this time, but it's the ultimate confirmation that Neteyam sees you. And when he notices that you notice, he smiles softly.

The elders notice as well, drawing the link between your arm band and the necklace that Neteyam wears, now that you two stand opposite each other.

“May I borrow Neteyam for a moment?” you ask politely.

The same elder you prepared with the evening prior gleams a wide smile when Neteyam takes a step towards you, fingers brushing delicately with yours.

Te'feyra remains seated, lips twitching as her gaze flits between the two of you.

“By all means,” one of them says. “Take your time.”

You bow your head again, heart thudding when Neteyam's fingers twine with yours and he lets you drag him out of the circle and deeper into the forest.

When you deem that no prying eyes or ears surround you, you stop, Neteyam bumping softly into your back. The hair on the back of your neck bristle when he makes no moves to extricate himself from you, simply moving your braids from your face to reveal the string of beads tucked near the nape of your neck.

“You needed me?” he whispers, fingers still ghosting the skin of shoulder.

You swallow, squeezing your eyes shut as you relish the moment. Your fingers are still locked and for a fleeting second, you pretend that it's always been like this, the two of you.

“I am nothing extraordinary,” you start, and Neteyam's fingertips pause at your elbow.

“I'd argue differently,” he responds.

“I value time alone and I get overwhelmed often,” you continue.

“We all have our moments,” is his rebuttal as the hand covering yours squeezes gently.

You sigh.

“I could—”

Neteyam turns you and you're met with the the choker, beads glinting under the light. Your eyes drag up the column of his strong neck, flit past his soft lips and finally lock with his searing gaze.

“You can try all you want to run me off,” Neteyam laughs quietly, cupping your jaw. “But I'm not scared anymore.”

Your expression is skeptical and Neteyam decides to bite the bullet. He's closing in on you and your heart pounds violently in your chest.

“Neteyam,” you whisper weakly, hand coming up to his chest.

He traps your fingers against his heart, lips slotting between yours before you can protest some more.

It's like the forest comes alive around you, grass tickling between your toes as you melt under his touch and lean up into his mouth.

His hands are everywhere at once, branding your cerulean skin as he kisses you like it's your last moments. There's no hesitation, no feeling it out, just his warm breath and his soft lips as he pulls you impossibly closer.

“I'll take you as you are at any moment,” he says breathlessly between kisses. “You just have to say you want me back, ________. Please.”

You nod, nose brushing against his as one of his palms splay at the small of your back and the other grabs your chin, pulling you back to plant another burning kiss on your lips.

“Say it,” he begs.

Your eyes begin to mist as you nod again eagerly, parting for a moment to whisper the words.

“I'm yours,” you hoarse, hands on either side of his neck. “I'm yours if you'll be with me.”

Neteyam simply kisses you again, a satisfied hum rumbling from his built chest.

“Fucking finally,” a whisper sounds from the brush.

A LIL' BONUS

“You think they would have figured it out on their own?” Lo'ak asks, wolfing down his food.

Kiri shrugs, feeding Tuk a piece of fruit from her wooden plate.

“Maybe,” she says, unable to suppress her proud grin. “Maybe not. They're both stupid."

“I think so,” Te'feyra laughs watching you and Neteyam fondly from across the fire. “They were a long time coming.”

an – thank you SO much if you've made it this far! again, leave a request or let's chat hehehe. up next is lo'ak so stay tuned! :)

#neteyam x reader #avatar #avatar way of water #neteyam fic #neteyam #neteyam sully #avatar the way of water

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steviewashere · 7 months ago

Text

Balls in Laundry Baskets: An Apology

Rating: Teen and Up CW: Bitchy/Mean Steve Harrington, Mean Eddie Munson (Both Briefly and For Good Reason) Tags: Post Season 4, Post Canon, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Arguing, Steve Harrington & Lucas Sinclair Friendship, Eddie Munson Gets Put in His Place, Lucas Sinclair is a Sweetheart, Steve Harrington is a Sweetheart, Protective Steve Harrington, Emotionally Hurt Lucas Sinclair, Emotionally Hurt Steve Harrington, Established Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, Eddie Munson Means Well He's Just Defensive, Hurt People Hurt Others

This is chapter one, which also includes the first two pages that I already posted. Please keep your expectations low, as I'm still working on the second and final chapter.

Read on AO3

Read Chapter Two Read Chapter Three (Final)

🏀—————🏀 “So, you and Eddie, huh?”

Steve startles at the sound of a voice, deep and hushed, from where he’s been waiting in Hawkins High’s parking lot. Hellfire was supposed to be out by now—6:50pm if his watch is correct—it’s their first time back since March and it would be cordial. But it seems that only Lucas got that memo.

“Jesus Christ, Sinclair!” He yelps. Holds his right palm flat against his chest, trying his best to rescind the spike of panic that is crawling through him. “I thought I told you to quit doing that,” he harshly whispers, rubbing his palm against his shirt. The scratchy material of his polo a balm against his nerves.

“Sorry,” Lucas sheepishly murmurs. Speaking at a normal volume, he asks again, “So, you and Eddie?”

He rolls his eyes. “What about me and Eddie? Can’t I just hang out with the guy without being pestered?”

Lucas shrugs. “You can do whatever you want,” he states, but Steve can already tell there’s somehow more. “But I didn’t think you two would be…buddies. Considering how he feels about, y’know, sports and whatever.”

For a moment, Steve considers Lucas’s approach. His fidgeting hands and his slightly closed off eyes. The hunch to his shoulders and the general unease that accompanies talking about Eddie. Which, that’s particularly odd. Aren’t they buddies, Steve questions himself. Wrapped up in the Hellfire club, their mutual interest in Dungeons & Dragons, the ragtag group of nerds that they are—all of that is perfect for their oddball friendship, at least Steve thought so.

“What’s wrong with you and Eddie?” Steve asks, beating around the bush. He doesn’t do cryptic. And he especially doesn’t do it with somebody like Lucas, a kid already smarter than him by several margins.

There isn’t an answer right away. But Lucas’s shoulders drop. His eyes go from frustrated to…sad. “Remember my championship game?” He asks, though it seems a bit much of a topic change. What does this have to do with Eddie, Steve has to wonder.

“Well, yeah,” he answers instead, “I was there. Had a pathetic date with a girl I hardly enjoyed being around. Mocked Tammy Thompson with Robin. Watched you get that winning shot. It was a, genuinely, awesome championship game.” And that’s the truth. It’s the best one he’s ever witnessed. Which is saying something, considering he’d played several championship games. All of them, though, were major losses. He’ll take those to the grave with him, with how often his previous basketball teams teased him.

Lucas gives a harsh single nod, a small smile that whisks away as soon as it appears. “Right,” he mutters, “I remember.” He leans against the Beemer’s bumper, shoulder brushing with Steve’s. Looks forlorn towards the high school’s doors, where Eddie and the rest of the Hellfire bunch should be spilling out any moment now. Steve looks on with him. Listens as Lucas’s voice drops low, nearly angry, fully spiteful, “I begged Dustin and Mike to talk to Eddie about my game. To see if the Hellfire campaign—which would be happening the same night—could be moved. And I, look, I understand that D&D means a lot to all of them, it means something to me, too. But I was really hoping to see my friends there. If not my friends, then at least Erica.

“They didn’t move the campaign,” he states so bitter, Steve tastes the words on his own tongue, “apparently a game where you’re shooting ‘balls into laundry baskets’ is too…mainstream and norm-ie for Eddie. He refused to move his precious game. Then, get this, instead of getting some random kid to play, they egged Erica in.” Lucas drags his eyes away from the school, head turning slow to look at Steve. He follows suit, eyeing Lucas back. His stomach churns with the vitriol painting itself unsubtly across Lucas’s face. “Color me surprised, I guess, that he’s going out with a jock,” he states, voice carefully blank of anything.

Steve stares on at him. He didn’t know this was the case at all. Remembers getting the phone call about Dustin wanting him to play, but he figured that had something to do with him bugging Steve for the millionth time. Because that was something Dustin wanted. For Steve to play. And, granted, Steve refused because it was too nerdy—unimportant and embarrassing. Yet, now he’s looking into Lucas’s face. Where hurt etches itself like solid lines of chiseled marble. Being told, instead, that Eddie’s holding his own bias.

Maybe he hasn’t removed his biases towards high school nerds, not completely. But he’s coming undone from that mentality. Considering Nancy and Robin and Eddie—Dustin and Mike and Lucas—even Max, they’re all big nerds. They all have some sort of interest with Dungeons & Dragons or theater or video games and math. And he loves them all. Though, Steve’s never stopped to think about the opposite side of the coin. Tail-side, where balls in laundry baskets is considered taboo.

After a deep silence when Steve finally digests this information, his eyebrows furrow on their own accord. Mouth downturning into a harsh frown, one that he feels to the bottoms of his feet. He stops himself in time from balling his hands into fists, but the urge to do so snarls in him like a newly unmuzzled, wild dog. A dog, he thought, that he trained obedient away from his anger. But it seems like once the teeth are bared, they never truly hide away.

“That ass,” Steve snarks. “What—so I have to reconsider all my biases surrounding nerds, reconstruct how I view everybody around me, and realize how awesome it is. And—what—Eddie can just get away with that…bullshit? That’s…What the hell?” There’s a little bit more of a bite to his words than he had anticipated. But it really isn’t fair. The table turns and he’s better for it, sure, but Eddie just…That’s not fair. The dog growls louder, drool burbling in its chops, a bark forming in the back of its throat.

“That’s what I thought,” Lucas says, “and I know, I know, that Dustin and Mike tried everything in their power. And that Eddie was the one to, y’know, be the asshole. But I thought that maybe my friends would be on my side. That they’d skip the game, show Eddie up. Not get my little sister involved or have fun without me or…I don’t know.” And the way he says those last three words stings something acidic inside of Steve. Corrosion and battery acid hot and alive in his stomach. Anger reaching the surface of his skin, words crawling and resonating in his mouth.

The doors to the school open distantly and Lucas suddenly perks back up, blossoming from where he was wilted against Steve’s car. “Doesn’t matter,” he chirps, though it’s all fake, “at least I can play with them now, which is awesome.”

But before he can stride away, to where his bike is parked and locked up, Steve snakes a hand onto Lucas’s wrist. They lock eyes again. “I’ll talk to him,” Steve swears, “he’ll apologize.”

“Steve, you don’t—“

“You used sports as a means to fit in, right? Granted, popularity’s not all that cool and you know that especially now. But it was a…a—“ He snaps his fingers, searching for the word. “—A cover, something to find security in. And you had that. And that’s what the D&D game is to Eddie. Sports is my D&D, too.” He loosens his grip on Lucas’s arm. Neither make any sort of move. “Just because you were trying to find your people doesn’t mean you can be…” He chooses his next words carefully. “Ostracized or outcast by those who you found safety with before. Especially when those guys orbit around each other for the same reason. I’ll talk to him,” he urges, “and he will apologize, or else.”

Lucas gives him a softened look. “Thanks, Steve,” he mutters, “I wasn’t looking to start anything, but I appreciate you having my back. It really means a lot.” And then he shuffles away, towards his bicycle, small chat starting up with Mike and Dustin.

When Steve turns back towards the school, Eddie is sauntering towards him. Eyes wide. Smile big and easy. Yet, his soft features are all too nauseating to Steve’s chest right now. His heart aches. If Eddie thinks of Lucas’s interests that way, what does he think of mine?

He tamps down his annoyance and anger. Because Eddie takes his hand and is looking at him as if the world belongs to the two of them. But that hurt on Lucas’s face is like a dagger impaled in his brain when Eddie greets nice and low, “Hi, baby. Been thinking about you the entire time I was in there.”

Steve smiles, though it may come off as more of a grimace with how Eddie falters. “Been thinking about you, too,” he echoes. Though, thinking positively isn’t what he’s been doing, as far as anybody’s concerned. Beat around the bush, he tells himself. He takes a steadying breath, posture straightening, demeanor changing. Says with a sour tone, “I, uh, I think we need to have a little talk in the car, if that’s okay? It’s not a breakup thing, but it might make you…somebody might get mad and I don’t want to cage you in at my house.”

“Oh,” Eddie breathes. His eyes go distant very briefly. When he refocuses on Steve, something has hardened in his features. Steve’s throat goes tight. “It can’t wait until after our date night?” There’s a low amount of ire in his words already and Steve is momentarily caught in it. Until he lets his eyebrows scrunch down his face again, giving in to that tightness in his throat.

He sighs, annoyed already. “No, Eddie,” he bites without meaning to. “I need to talk to you now. I’m already upset about it and it’s not going to do me any good to just brush it off.” His hand releases from Eddie’s grip, falling heavy against his side. He turns towards his driver’s side door and stares back at where Eddie is rooted. “Come on,” he states lowly, “you were the one to tell me to talk about the shit that’s bothering me. Can’t ignore it just because it has to do with you.”

Bitchy is probably not the best approach to all of this, but Steve is already cornered out of options. He pulls his door open with more force than necessary. Slides into his seat, key into the ignition, and honks once at Eddie. Jarringly gestures at the passenger seat. Thankfully, there’s nobody else to witness the potential torrential fire that’s brewing in him. It’ll be just the two of them; though that realization stirs something sickly in Steve’s stomach.

Eddie gets in silently. Places his school bag in the footwell. And keeps his face pointed out the windshield. “What’s wrong?” He asks, though his voice is devoid and edging on irritated.

Steve rolls his eyes, though Eddie can’t see him. He sets his hands firmly on his steering wheel. Squeezes the leather for comfort, an instinct. And heaves a sigh, urging himself to be calmer about this. “I had a talk with Lucas,” he starts. “About, uh, about his championship game back in March.”

Next to him, Eddie immediately tenses.

He continues without acknowledgement. Keeps himself as leveled as possible. “He told me that you refused to move your game for his. That he was looking forward to having his friends, which I’m assuming includes you, watch him play. And I—I know how important that championship game was to him. Y’know, it’s one of the bigger—“

“Are you mad because I didn’t want to sit at some jock event?” Eddie interrupts, question clipped. Though there’s also mild amusement in his tone, as if Steve being upset is poposterous. He continues without any regard for Steve. “In a room full of, mind you, people who hate me?”

Steve tenses more than Eddie had. His shoulders hiking and his stomach knotting impossibly more. Finally lets the dog bark, gives in to whatever it wants. “You know what, Eddie?” He bitches back. “I am mad at you. In fact, I…I…I’m so fucking angry that you…you make this whole deal about ‘lost sheep’ and herding them in to play your game. You concern yourself with making a community for people who are lost to the crowd of cliques in that school. And it’s just—Lucas is one of those kids! He is, even if that means he wants to play basketball!”

The passenger seat squeaks. Clothes rustling as Eddie turns toward him. But Steve doesn’t rip his eyes from the windshield. If anything, he leans more towards the left, creating a deeper, larger space between them. His hands instinctively tighten on the steering wheel again.

“Yeah, I do pride myself on that,” Eddie spits. “I do. Which is why, honestly, it irks me that Lucas would pick a crowd full of assholes. A bunch of people who would never give him the time of day.”

Steve goes rigid at that. He was an asshole, too. He knows that. Eddie especially knows that. The Munson Doctrine wouldn’t exist without the inclusion of asshole jocks, Steve being near the top of the list. He tries to tell himself that Eddie doesn’t think of him that way, but it’s hard considering himself. Who he used to be. Instead, he takes another breath, this one longer and hopefully more steadying than the other ones have been.

“He went out for basketball for a sense of security,” Steve states slowly, verging on impatient. “To find somewhere to belong to. That’s all a freshman looks for—a group to be somebody with. And, you know, considering that he’s already sort of singled out for being one of a few black kids at the school…Belonging is kind of important to him.” He settles back into his seat, arms still stretched to their full length in front of him. His stomach is turning and his heart is racing. And why won’t Eddie just get this? “Even if the basketball team has a bunch of assholes, he still wanted to do it. He was celebrated for his skills, who he is—even if it was for a moment. Playing was, and probably still is, important to him. And you—“ Steve finally turns his head towards Eddie. Knows his eyes are shooting daggers, can see where they lodge themselves between Eddie’s ribs. He raises a finger and accuses, “—you made his game feel unimportant. None of his best friends came because they were toopreoccupied with your game.” His face grows unusually hot as his voice drags passionately. The words just tumbling, splattering between them. But he carries on like a fire fed, “They even got his little sister to play yourgame. And, you know what really hurt to hear? Lucas wanted at least Erica to watch. And she wasn’t there. She wasn’t there because of your game, Eddie. How do you think that looks to him?”

Eddie has the audacity to look cowed, appalled. His mouth agape and his eyes as two large craters on his face. And for the first time, probably ever, he is stunned into silence.

Steve looks away. Bitter. All that festers in him now is hurt, ache, sadness. He chews on his lip, inhales softly through his nose, and opens his mouth with a silent word. Finally, he murmurs, “When I came to the high school as a freshman, I did the exact same thing as Lucas did. I joined the basketball team. Not because I was good. Or because my dad forced me to, like everybody seems to think. It’s because I wanted to fit in.”

His eyes are stinging. Cheeks flushing even more with overwhelming, consuming emotion. Continues, “And, though I let the feeling eat away at me, it felt good to be protected by a camaraderie like that. Outside of the nerdy friend group I had in middle school, going into high school. It felt good. And—It’s not the same as why Lucas joined, I know that, but I can understand.

“On top of that, I never had friends or family members show up for me at my games. So, for me to know the hurt Lucas feels, that would be an understatement. What’s important to note, though, is that he had people in his life to be there for him and they didn’t show. They didn’t.”

The fight is draining out of him, but he has to solidify his point. Has to finish this or else. Thinks briefly that maybe he should quit while he’s ahead, but he can’t make himself do that. The ferocity engulfing him from the inside out all too much to ignore. He’s been beaten down before for Lucas, literally—oh so literally—but he’d do it again and again and again for that kid to find his footing. Including this…spat? One sided argument? This argument with his boyfriend.

“Even I was there,” he says, hollowly, “cheering him on. It just would’ve been nice, for him, to have more than just some washed up, ex-jock, nobody be there. Right? I’m sure you get where I’m coming from. You can understand what I’m saying.” He glances forlorn out his window. Can’t even muster the courage to look over at Eddie. He’s basically drained himself. Being vulnerable isn’t his forte, but he can be for the people around him. Even if it’s at the expense of his own well being. “Well, I thought you’d understand. Wanting to have a community, people to lean on, to make something of yourself. No matter the means. I just didn’t think you’d be part of the reason that Lucas feels so…so singular.”

He takes a deep breath, ignoring how nasally it is to his ears. And mutters, a final thing, “I didn’t think you viewed something that Lucas and I are into as so…nothing. I try my best to be better about what you like, but it seems that you don’t make that same effort. That’s not fair, Eddie. You should know that.”

Without much else to say and with Eddie’s eerie silence, he starts the car. Puts it into drive. And peels away into the silence of the long and stretching road.

Briefly, he thinks about turning on the radio or cranking down the window, but the air is too thick to move through. Even the slight turns of his steering wheel is enough to make him feel sick. He’s sick with how disgustingly to-the-point he had to be. Though, there’s no other way that Eddie would’ve listened. Not with how defensive he immediately got.

The original date night plan had been to go to his house, but he finds himself pulling into Forest Hills’ driveway. Past the dimly lit trailers and the striking quietness of Max’s home. He parks in the vacant spot next to Eddie’s van. Which, the van is broken down right now—the main reason Steve is even driving Eddie around. But, now what? Is Eddie mad at how mad Steve was? Is he going to realize that he doesn’t like Steve because of his interests, who he is? Is this it?

A gentle anxious thrum runs through Steve like the very blood he needs to exist.

He silences the car. And just sits with his hands in his lap. Looking blankly at Eddie’s front door.

“Your stop,” Steve murmurs.

Eddie takes a deep breath and sighs heavily through his nose. But he doesn’t make a move to open his door. To step out. To walk away from…all that Steve is and has been.

Steve turns to him, gestures loosely at the Munson’s. “Your stop,” he reiterates.

“I—“ Eddie musters, voice croaking and rough. “I didn’t realize that…I didn’t know Lucas was mad about that. I didn’t think it…mattered.”

“Of course you didn’t,” Steve bitterly states, “It’s not like you actually cared.”

“But I do,” Eddie insists, “I care so much about Lucas. And I care so much about you. I swear!” He finally moves, tossing himself in the seat to face Steve, flailing. His face a mournful thing, downturned and sad. Skin pale and his hands desperate and his voice urgent. “There’s no excuse, I know. But I just…The reason I look at jocks so awfully is because they’ve always turned on me, you know? They always downplay my interests and mock me and tease me for what I like. Which is why I have to show myself as the bigger guy, that I can take it. I just didn’t realize that I was doing it, too.”

Slowly, Steve crosses his arms over his chest. Fingers tightening over his biceps. “Real life and your friends are more important than biases, Eddie.”

“I see that now.”

“And I think that you…you love me? And that you like Lucas. But it’s just hard to feel that, for either of us, when you adamantly refuse to involve yourself in our interests. Even if it means attending some jock event. Even if it means sitting in a room full of people that hate you. Which, by the way, that isn’t true because Lucas and I both like you—I love you, even.” He faces Eddie again. His face a sure thing of great ache, based on Eddie’s own crestfallen eyes. “Maybe just…give us space for a couple days? Think about this. Apologize once you’ve given it some thought. I understand where the whole hating jocks thing comes from, but just think about how that hurts, too.”

Eddie takes a gasping breath. “But I’m sorry now, Stevie,” he swears, “I am. I’m so sorry.”

There’s part of those words that soothe Steve like aloe to a sunburn, but he can’t accept them. Knows that the sure sting of the burn will still be there if he lets Eddie do this now. So he collects himself, mulls the words, and defends himself—for once. “I’ll accept that when it doesn’t feel like you’re saying it just to make me feel better. I want you to mean it. And I want you to apologize to Lucas first.”

He watches Eddie nod fervently, sharply. His hands twisting together in his lap and his eyes wetting, shoved harshly to the side. “Yeah, okay,” his voice trembles, “okay, I’ll fix this.”

Carefully, Steve takes Eddie’s hands. Tugs them until Eddie looks at him. Involuntarily, he makes a soft, sympathetic noise. It’s clear in the wetness of Eddie’s eyes that he’s determined to change this, to make this better. It’s clear that he didn’t mean to hurt this severely. He presses deep into the back of Eddie’s hands, tethering himself down to the earth, away from the cloud of anger that threatens to swallow him whole.

“Hey,” he murmurs, “listen to me, baby. I know that you’re sorry. I know, okay? But Lucas won’t know that, he’ll probably think you’re saying it to get on his good side. And…maybe you are, a bit, but it’ll be better if you really mean it. Trust me.” He swipes his thumbs over Eddie’s knuckles, massages them to ease the tension. “I still love you. I’m still learning, too, to love your interests with my full heart. And I know that it’s hard to let go of stupid biases, but you’ll be better for it. You will, Eds, and you’ll find you actually feel good.” Steve runs his hands up Eddie’s arms, to his shoulders, the sides of his neck.

Gently, he cups Eddie’s face between his hands. Presses his thumbs underneath Eddie’s eyes.

Eddie softens, loosening. Breathes slowly onto Steve’s wrists. “I’ll make this right, Steve,” he promises quietly, “I want to love both of you guys right.”

“I believe you,” he whispers in turn, “you’re a good guy, Eddie. You’ve got a good soul and a good heart. But you just need to relearn some things, baby.” He leans in, softly pecks the soft tissue of Eddie’s facial scar, and pulls away. Reaches up and runs a hand through the wiry ends of Eddie’s curls. Finds that he does mean the softness in his words, even with the bitter edge in his chest. He murmurs, “Let’s cool off tonight, because I know we’re both upset. And we’ll reconvene in a couple days, after my shift. I’ll help you come up with a good apology, promise.”

“Okay,” Eddie mutters, sniffling.

“I love you,” he feels the need to remind.

“I love you, too, Stevie. And I mean that. I really do.”

🏀—————🏀

Taglist (Open For Chapter Two): @wonderland-girl143-blog @tinyplanet95 @sharingisntkaren @ghostquer @practicallybegging @croatoan-like-its-hot @reinedslys-central

#stranger things #Steve Harrington & Lucas Sinclair #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #lucas sinclair #angst and hurt/comfort #Eddie Munson & Lucas Sinclair

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mitchellpete · 1 year ago

Text

Firsts

summary: You’re bad at playing hard to get, and you don’t want to let the opportunity slip. Maverick gives you your first motorcycle ride.

pairing: pete “maverick” mitchell x gn!reader

tags/warnings: maverick being flirty, shy!reader but also not really?, some drinking mentioned, overall fluff

word count: 1.4k

A/N: i feel terrible that i keep making excuses not to post so i'll let you guys have this one. i don't know who's still on top gun tumblr but i hope you guys are still around. and that you guys like this! it was supposed to be a drabble but..?? ANDDD one more thing: my request page has updated also!

“Wait, you’ve never been on a bike before?”

“I’ve been on a bike. I’ve never been on a motorcycle.”

Maverick scoffs and then cocks a brow, a smirk tugging at his lips in his frail attempt at reading you, or at least pretending he knew you.

Except he doesn’t, because out of the many outings at the bar, tonight had been the first time he’d spotted you. You were ashamed to admit that it was kind of flattering having him follow you around for a good half an hour, even after you locked eyes with mustache Hawaiian shirt blonde guy across the room. Ah, it was all a game. But God, was Maverick pretty. And charming. You couldn’t decide whether you were bad at playing hard to get or if you simply didn’t mind being the game.

(It was definitely the former.)

Panic filled you later that night when you watched him slip his jacket on on the opposite side of the room. He was still distractedly rambling with his friend, however, and you took the opportunity to push past at least 5 people and make it out of the door before he did.

What to say or do the moment he stepped out? Your head was empty. But hey, he’d see you out there, make another flirtatious comment, make you blush and then it’d go on from there, right? God, please.

This had to have been like the fourth time you’d seen him. He was most certainly the prettiest out of all the aviators that confidently waltzed into the bar every time you and your friend met for drinks.

Miramar. A lovely place, truly.

Beautiful, too. The sunset is beginning to form, and you step towards the wooden fence separating the sand from the small parking lot in front of the building. A packed bar, only a few vehicles. You wonder if any of them belong to Maverick. You pray that he walks this way at all.

The beach in front of you is littered with people, families, couples. There is chatter everywhere, drowning out the sound of the bell on the door behind you, or the sound of his voice if he happens to be walking out, talking to his friend.

That’s why when you eventually zone out maybe a good ten minutes later, you don’t notice that he’s already walked past you, striding towards the vehicle closest to you. The motorcycle. Red, black, adorned with decals that match the patches on his pretty jacket. You wish you’d noticed.

He’d certainly noticed you, watching you avoid his gaze as he swung a leg over and took a seat. “Going for a swim?”

FUCK.

Tongue in your cheek, you meet his eyes. “No. I.. needed some air. Where’s your friend?”

“Where’s yours?” A cheeky smile spread on his face as he reached for the handles.

Oh, he’s sooooooo—

“Inside. I’m uh, actually waiting for another friend right now. She’s picking me up soon, I think.” Lies, lies, lies.

“In a car?”

“On a motorcycle, actually. How fast does yours go?” Jesus Christ. You know nothing about motorcycles, by the way.

He leans slightly forward, intrigued by your response. “Faster.”

“Hm.” You glance out at the shoreline again, at the sun turning bright orange. You feel the warmth on your cheeks. Stupid. You’re playing hard to get again, for fuck’s sake. He’s too pretty, it makes you nervous.

Lucky for you, he breaks the tense feeling in your stomach with a laugh. “Actually?”

He sticks the key into the ignition, filling you with the slight panic from before that he’s slipping away.

You fake a snicker, although it comes out dry and humorless. “I’m kidding. I don’t know a thing about motorcycles.”

The sudden rev of the engine startles you, and he smiles. “Some people are just meant to look pretty on the back of ‘em, I think.”

There was already a warmth to your cheeks, but now it’s heat. “Well.. that sounds like fun.”

Furrowed brows. “Wait, you’ve never been on a bike before?”

You snicker again, this time for real. “I’ve been on a bike. I’ve never been on a motorcycle.”

Maverick scoffs and then cocks a brow, a smirk tugging at his lips in his frail attempt at reading you, or at least pretending he knew you. Playfully rolling his eyes, he revs the engine again and waves you over with his hand. “Come on.”

Your face falls. A different kind of panic. “Huh?”

“Just a quick ride. Before your friend gets here.”

“A-are you sure?”

“You’re scared?” He grins.

“I—No. I just..” You hesitantly make your way over, your legs suddenly weak. “I drank a little, so I don’t—”

“Can you relax?” He laughs again, his laughter as pretty as he is. “It’s not scary, I promise. Here, step on that part. Just hold onto me and hop on.” He points down below and then sticks his arm out for you to grab.

“I’m not scared,” you mumble as you manage to perch yourself on the space behind him, careful not to grip his arm too tight. “I think you’re a little strange, is all.”

“How so? You gotta hold onto me, sweetheart.” Another engine rev. What is his deal?

You lean forward as much as you can, pressing yourself to him and wrapping your arms around his middle. The seat behind his is slightly raised, and your face absentmindedly presses into the back crook of his neck. It’s too late to pull back when you realize, and the heat in your cheeks starts to burn. Nevertheless, you go through with your accusations.

“Well,” you begin, conscious of your voice as to not be loud in his ear. “You follow me around the bar for some stupid bet, and.. now you’ve forced me onto your bike.”

Ha. As if you hadn’t planned all of this. Sort of.

Another pretty laugh. “It’s a motorcycle,” he mocks you.

That gets a laugh out of you, squeezing your arms around him a bit as he starts to move.

“Although, I do have to say—” He halts, a foot firm on the ground, and turns to look you over his shoulder. “Out of anybody I’ve followed around the bar, you’re the only one I’d give a ride to.”

God. You think you’re already in love with him. “That so?”

He presses his lips together and nods, fake serious.

Pressing your forehead to the back of his jacket, you chuckle. “I guess that means I owe you something.”

“I’ll start driving on one condition,” he offers, his tone playful.

“Hm?”

“Give me a kiss.”

Oh boy. It’s easy by now; you’re already melting into him. Glancing up, your surroundings become a blur and all the outside chatter, the bell on the door and the sound of the other cars go completely silent as you lean your neck to reach. It’s a peck, but it’s complete; all of your lips feel the soft skin of his cheek, plump from a smile under your kiss. And then your chin goes to rest on his shoulder, and next thing you know, you’re off.

There’s suddenly wind; you weren’t prepared for your hair to flow, as he took off from the parking lot and immediately down the road.

You’re clinging onto him with all your might, maybe a little scared for a moment, but then it starts to feel nice. You don’t even recall the moment he’d slipped his aviators on; perhaps the little kiss you gave him left you in awe instead of vice-versa, or maybe it was the drinks you’d had earlier? Maverick says something but you barely hear it, your stomach fluttering in excitement as he swerves between cars to get out of their way, to fly by beyond them on the road and to make the moment about just the two of you. Nobody else on the road.

He turns onto a different road, this one longer and less crowded, and you squeal as he starts going faster. A euphoric feeling overtakes you, and even in the wind, through the sound of the engine and Maverick’s muffled voice, you’re convinced you can’t let him slip away after this one either.

“Maverick!”

Wind, wind, wind. The engine.

Tapping a hand on his side instead, you catch his attention. He slows down just a bit, momentarily glancing over his shoulder again before looking back at the road.

“You wanna stop?” he yells.

“No!” you shout back. “I just wanted you to know something!”

“What is it?!”

You lean closer to his ear, face in the crook of his neck again. “I was lying! There is no friend!”

He grins. “I know!”

#top gun #top gun: maverick #top gun maverick #top gun maverick fanfic #top gun x reader #top gun imagine #top gun maverick x reader #top gun fanfic #top gun maverick fic #maverick x reader #pete mitchell x reader #top gun headcanons #pete maverick mitchell x reader #maverick x you #top gun 1986 #pete mitchell #*#mav

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sincerely-sofie · 13 days ago

Text

I’m a skeleton gal who likes to draw and write! Currently I’m working on Better the Wool, a Cult of the Lamb AU about the Lamb resurrecting the sheep and mending her relationship with her former patron deity.

Featured Tags: #Stuff by Sofie (Tag for my creations) | #Sofie Says Stuff (Tag for my rambles) | #Sofie Answers Asks (Tag for responses to my inbox) | #Obbyposting (Tag for raving about how awesome my boyfriend is)

You can read more about me, my projects, and what I’m up to under the cut!

About Me:

I'm a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints!

I’m interested in writing, making webcomics, game dev, 2D animation, character design, programming, singing, small business management, self-improvement, and all around way too many crafting mediums to count.

I like green, bugs, hot chocolate, kawaii future bass music, video essays, Ooblets, and Animal Crossing.

I have a pet blue death feigning beetle named Gamer Girl, sometimes fondly referred to as GG!

I make a lot of things. This blog is a way for me to record the various projects I create on my journey to be unashamedly sincere!

Some of My Projects:

Better the Wool: An in-progress Cult of the Lamb AU focusing on the Lamb and her relationship with Narinder as she works to resurrect the Sheep killed by the Old Faith. Has a dedicated tag on my blog. A written fanfic is in the works, and I regularly post art about it between writing!

The Present is a Gift: A finished, but still semi-active, post-credits AU and fanfic for Pokemon Mystery Dungeon: Explorers of Sky which focuses on the hero taking in an amnesiac Darkrai. Has a dedicated tag on my blog. Also has a dedicated sideblog for chapters and can be found on Ao3, Tumblr, PMD Fanfiction, and Wattpad through there!

Mortality Exchange: A collection of “What-if” scenarios based on a piece of worldbuilding in my Pokemon Mystery Dungeon fanworks— if a Legendary pokemon dies, a nearby mortal pokemon will inherit their powers and immortality. Has a dedicated tag on my blog. There are no plans to make a long-form storytelling project of this.

Dugtrio Day: A time loop AU for Pokemon Mystery Dungeon: Explorers of Sky that stars a prickly Eevee hero, a sociable Treecko partner, and a nihlistic Celebi. Has a dedicated tag on my blog. There are currently no plans to make a long-form storytelling project of this.

Common Questions:

My inbox is always open if you want to ask or send something in! I like to queue up responses to things sent into my inbox, though, so sometimes they take a while to get posted. You can always send a DM or additional ask about the state of the thing you sent in if you’re curious!

I don’t mind being tagged in things. It’s a great way to make sure I see something :>

Fanart and other works based on my AUs, original work, and persona are all things I love to see! If you ever make something along those lines, send me a pic or the link to where it’s posted! I’d love to be able to shout it out if possible!

If you want to voice act / do a dub of my work, the same rules apply from the above bullet point! I’d love to see it! Send me the link! However, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t use AI to dub over my work. I’ve had my work stolen for use in AI dubs in the past, and I’d really like to avoid the stress of that happening again.

If you’re curious about something, send in a question, whether anonymously or not! You don’t need to be nervous or shy about it. I’m a pretty chill gal— I promise I won’t bite!

#pinned post #intro post #introduction post #introductory post #blog intro #sofie says stuff

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fandomfluffandfuck · 4 months ago

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related mostly to this, but also this, so... very tmi shit under the cut:

Normally, when I have tmi sex and/or scene stories to tell, I put them in the tags, but there's too much to say this time thus, a whole fucking post. No half hiding in the tags, lmao.

Last night was a goddamn religion experience. I swear to FUCK. I say scenes are godly in the most unholy way in my writing a lot and... yeah 😮‍💨

The first thing I did at the party was get my boots blacked, since I've always wanted to, and--Jesus Christ. I would have been completely chill with that being my only playing for the whole night because it was ✨️that good✨️

The bootblack that was there was criminally, unfairly good in so many ways. For one, my boots look better than they did when I bought them, and I do upkeep them myself. Secondly, he fried my fucking brain. Of course, I understood that bootblacking in a kink setting is a kinky experience and would be deeply sexual going into it. That being said, I was not fucking prepared for the bootblack to apply some of the shit he was using on my leather with his tongue. I was not prepared to have one of the leather belts that he had to work on wrapped around my neck to use as a leash to force me down closer to his level where he was at my feet so he could kiss me. With my chest pressed to my thighs, his hand at the end of some strangers belt around my throat, he kissed me, and smeared some of whatever it was he was using into my mouth, against my own tongue. I was not prepared for him to taste the leather of my boots, nor was I prepared for him to share the fucking taste (not to mention him asking if I wanted a second taste when we broke apart and me immediately going, "uh-huh," as if I were trained on command). 😮‍💨🥴 Oh. my. fucking. god.

I tipped the bootblack because, duh, and he playfully refused to accept it from my hand. Instead, he had me wedge the cash between the lases of my boots because he wanted to show off how he could untie my laces with just his teeth. He did. He fucking did. Then, he had me re-tie my own laces. I nearly fucking forgot how to tie my boots, I shit you not--and I'm pretty sure that was the point 👀

Okay, so, boots blackened and severely fucking turned on, after that I was like whatever the fuck comes up, I'm fucking good. I. Yeah.

I watched for a while. The guy who threw the party had a really big house with only a small part set as off-limits, so I wandered around until... I got approached by a different guy. I forget the exact words of his opener, and even if I remembered it, it would be nowhere as charming in text as in real life. Anyway, he was straight (ha) to the point and basically was, just, hey, you look like you're really light (for reference, think about pre-serum Steve but a tiny bit taller, I'm 5'6", not 5'4"), I bet you'd be perfect to suspend. And, oh, are you into that, by chance? When I said I'd never been suspended, he started to back off, but I was like, oh, oh no. You can't say shit like that to me and not expect to make me curious to try.

People.

I've tied other people up before, but I haven't been tied up myself in any real capacity--I've practiced shit on myself and gotten off, lmao. And certainly, I had never been suspended myself.

I have now.

I got fucking suspended.

There were anchor points in the ceiling of the basement, and we used them to their full capacity. The writer in me is, like, details details details, meaning I would fucking love to tell you what ties he did and everything but I don't fucking remember. He told me the names before we got into it so I could agree. But I don't recall in the fucking slightest, lmao. I just. Brain gone.

He did my legs (my calves to the back of my thighs) and arms (which were straight back behind me, tied together at the elbow and wrist, meaning that my arms were up toward the ceiling as I was facing the floor). (Eventually, he tied a rope around my torso at the small of my back, too, to help hold me up, that was later, though.)

But.

Before I was really suspended, I was on the floor, he had me on my back, legs folded up underneath me, arching my back to accommodate for the position and so my stomach and dick was very exposed, and he joked very casually--while standing over me, staring down and smirking, of course 🥴--about kicking me so hard that he'd leave the tread print of his boot in my stomach and. I think I died.

Fuck.

I really kinda wish he did kick me that hard 😮‍💨 I'm sure the pattern of the fucking workboots he had on would look great.

Anyway, then, later, I was not on the floor. At all. And as it turns out, I'm even more bendy than I apparently already look 💀

I don't really experience subspace in the same capacity that I experience domspace. I don't go as deep, for sure. And maybe that's why I prefer domming to some degree. That being said, suspension is probably the deepest I've ever gone into subspace. Like. That weightlessness. Every touch, meant to be stimulating--being groped or whatever--or not--like having his fingers slide between my skin and the ropes, checking to make sure nothing was too tight--made my entire body move and sway and twist. Yet, I absolutely couldn't move. I could not keep anything straight. He would touch me in one place and then suddenly be doing something else, somewhere else.

The rope he was using was sisal and holy shit. It's like jute but better because it's rougher and it hurts more. Like. Suspension obviously doesn't have to hurt. I told him I was all good with more than a little hurt, though. So. He made it hurt.

And I now have the announcment that I... I may be much more of a masochist than I thought 💀💀

I couldn't move, obviously, but I could strain against the ropes some and oh my fucking god. He edged me, jerking me off, before I came down from the tie and he swear to god I was groaning so ridiculously loudly by the end because I couldn't not strain and flex against the rope but that just made the rope dig even more into my skin. Every time I twitched it hurt a little more. Not gonna lie, I think the weightlessness and restraining and pain did more for me than the pleasure of a hand job 😮‍💨

It was incredible.

That fucking dom was incredible. He was so good at ties and suspension and so accommodating to my inexperience, listening but also creative enough to know where to push to give me more than I wanted.

Also. Because I was already fucking there and why not go zero to sixty, though, this is probably more like zero to hundred, lmao, when I came down from being suspended, he untied me, and then I gave my first blow job. It is exactly what I thought it would be, which is intoxicating. The smell. The taste. The weight of it. The power. The way he enjoyed it. Just. Yup.

I was totally fucking locked in the entire time the scene was happening, nothing else fucking existed, nothing else could have--but now that I'm out of it... I can't wait to turn around and have a sub that I can give head to in the same way. I love eating pussy, I really fucking do. It's about the heat, the wetness, the smell, the way they squirm, those noises, and the way it's so fucking easy to pull pleasure out of someone like that. And I just know sucking dick would be the same, doing it from the dom side, not the sub side. As a sub, don't get me wrong, it feels so fucking good to be used--aching, in pain, like, fucking throbbing but also totally limp, so all you can do is stay where they put you and be used. But, I just know flipped it'll be just as good and, maybe, for my personal taste, better.

Aftercare was done--that rope dom was fucking great (as was that bootblack). And before my friend, who I came with, and I left, we did little more watching, together, then headed home.

So, to simplify: first, all gay dungeon party achieved and successful 😮‍💨😮‍💨 Bootblacking experience successful and hot as shit. Suspension experience successful, also hot as shit. Giving a blowjob successful, hot, and in need of repeats.

Thanks for listening to my tmi tales, lmao

#it took me almost an hour to write this because brain. is. scrambled.#i'm still not home but you KNOW i had to run to tumblr and divulge my not so secret filthy secrets lol #personal #thoughts #tmi

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selkieprompts · 2 years ago

Text

A Date With An Incubus

Summary: After breaking off a long-term relationship you decide to try dating again, however your first date with this guy you matched with on a dating app doesn't go as you planned.

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

originally posted on AO3

You had decided to enter the dating pool again after breaking off a nearly decade-long relationship. Of course, things happen, and people drift apart, but damn, this one kind of hurt. You were alone for the first time in years, and it felt weird. Even going back into the dating pool was strange. You got so used to your routine with your ex that you weren’t sure what to expect when you had your first date since the breakup… but one thing that made you hopeful was the person you were talking to seemed nice. Like actually lovely, and it helped that he was handsome too, but you had this strange feeling you’d seen him before, but you couldn’t quite put your finger on it.

You were to meet him at the Aquarium, his idea. It wasn’t your first pick for a first date, maybe a second or third date, but still, you appreciated it. It was cute, you had to admit. You looked at the time. Was it already 3? Your date started at 3:30, and it’d take forty-five minutes to get there. Shit. You get dressed quickly, grab your keys, and head out the door. Great, you were already late on the first date, worrying that this would somehow ruin his first impression of you. You sit in the car, deciding whether to text him, which you do.

[SMS] 3:38 PM: Hey, I’m so sorry; I just left my apartment. I’ll be there as soon as I can. I’m sorry!

[SMS] 3:39 PM: It’s fine. Please be safe first. I’ll meet you outside when you get here. 😊

The emojis he always sent you were cute, making you feel slightly less guilty about being late.

When you arrived, he was where he said he’d be, right outside the Aquarium. He sat on a bench, and from first glance, he already looked like a big guy, but when he caught you approaching, he stood up and waved, a wide grin appearing on his face. Jesus Christ, he was tall , and you weren’t that small yourself. You were average height. He jogs over to you and greets you. “Glad you made it!” you also realized this was the first time you heard his voice. He was Scottish. “It’s nice to finally meet you in person.” he gives another smile.

Still, the feeling of familiarity lingers, and now it’s starting to bother you. Where the hell have you seen this guy before? You snap out of your thoughts when he speaks again. “I got us some tickets for the Otter Encounter, but that doesn’t start for another hour and a half, and I also saw a restaurant in here if you wanted to check it out.” Wow, this guy sure has a lot of things planned for the two of you. And all for a first date? Maybe he hasn’t dated in a while and got over-excited. Not that it bothers you. You’re glad you decided to go and not just ghost him. “Yeah, the restaurant sounds nice. Let’s go there first,” you said, smiling back at him.

The two of you make your way through the building, passing exhibits and such, commenting on the animals as you see them. The restaurant was what you expected. A little gimmick with ocean themes, but it was charming. And the food wasn’t terrible, kind of overpriced though. Though as you ate your food, you noticed he barely touched his. Maybe he ate before he came here? You stare at his face as you eat, and he sees. “Oh, do I have something on my face?” your face quickly flushes in embarrassment. “Oh no, I–” should you bite the bullet there? Yeah, if you didn’t, it would keep you from thoroughly enjoying yourself. “You just look really familiar. Have you’ve been in anything?” a nervous laugh followed from him, and now he seemed a little coy. “Short answer, yeah. Stuff online mostly.” then it clicks.

He was a content creator you followed on Twitter and other less favorable sites. A content creator who made porn! You were on a date with a cam guy. Your eyes widen, and your mouth hangs open slightly. Was this really happening? Were you on a date with fucking Axel Lily? He speaks again. “Look, I understand if you would want to call it here–” you interrupt, “No, no, it’s fine! It’s kinda cool actually,” you admit, and that’s when you see his eyebrow raise. “Yeah?” He sounds relieved. “Yeah, I actually follow some of your content.” oops probably should’ve kept that to yourself. You hear him laugh, though. “Well, I appreciate the support.” Now you’re thrilled you didn’t ghost him.

The date continued, as usual, meeting the Otters being the highlight of your trip there, besides the other thing you discovered about him. So when it comes to an end, you feel disappointed until he invites you back to his place. You agree, maybe a little too eagerly, and you follow him in your car back to his house. Was going over to his home too much for a first date? Maybe but the decision was made, and there was no turning back now.

---

When you arrive at the house, you can’t help but notice that it looks normal. You didn’t know why you expected anything else. You park near it and follow him inside. It was lovely inside, too, normal. Though you wondered where that room was. You wanted to see it, but you shouldn’t be too pushy. You were so busy with your thoughts that you didn’t notice him coming up behind you until you turned around. He startled you a bit, to which he apologized, but you knew he had something brewing in that mind of his. Something naughty. A devious-looking smirk paints his features as he looks at you, and you can’t even begin to describe how that excited you. You knew what was going to happen next.

He gets as close as he possibly can to you, his hand ghosting your waist as he looks at you with this lustful gaze. The two of you are waiting to see who’d make the first move. Instead, you felt brave and pulled him down into a kiss. The kiss started soft, lingering on each other’s lips before it became more passionate with each departure until the two of you desperately felt each other. You dared to tug at his shirt, signaling him to take it off, which he did. You didn’t know why but you expected him to look different in real life, but no. His body was just as gorgeous as it had been in his shows. The man was fucking stacked. “Holy shit.” you mutter before he returns for another frantic kiss.

You find yourself on the couch, where he pushes you down and climbs on top of you, pulling off your clothing. All the while, your hand finds itself in his sweatpants, feeling for his cock. Christ, it felt huge. You stroke it gently, and that elicits a moan from him. You keep stroking him as his hands start to wander and soon he finds your slit, with no hesitation, he slips his fingers inside. “Wet for me already, huh?” He sounds so smug. “Let’s see if I can make you any wetter.” his thumb starts circling your clit as he curls his fingers inside you. Fuck, did it feel good! You do your best to keep stroking his cock, but with how his fingers are working, you can barely keep up. You try your best, though. He goes at it for a little while until he withdraws his fingers from you. You let out a noise of disappointment until you see him pull your underwear off and put his head between your legs. Then you feel his mouth on your cunt, sucking and lapping at it, he was eating you like he was starving, and you were a full-course meal. His hands held your hips as his tongue worked on you. You bucked with every lash he gave you until you felt a wave of pleasure wash over you. You swear you could see stars, but he wasn’t finished with you.

Axel returns and gives you another kiss where you can taste yourself on his tongue. But as you went on with your passionate fling, you started to notice something, his teeth were sharper than you remember, and they cut your lip. You open your eyes, pull back, and begin catching a few more things. He turned fucking blue! And horns! And claws! And a fucking tail! What the hell? “Woah!” you’ve entirely snapped out of your pleasured daze and scooted back, your back hitting the couch. “What the fuck?!” you yell out. You swallow as you look at what’s in front of you. Your date turned into some sort of blue fucking demon! He looks confused for a moment until he looks at his hands. “Ah shit.” he doesn’t sound surprised, just… embarrassed? “I’m sorry, this doesn’t usually happen.” he makes it sound like he did something small, like he made a mess or something. You just blink, staring at him. You don’t know what to make of it, but… even as all of this is happening, you don’t feel like he will harm you. Even if he looks a little demonic. “Axel, what the hell is going on?” you want answers, though.

He sucks through his teeth before sitting back up. “I’m a demon…” he smiles awkwardly. “An incubus.” You just stared at him. You couldn’t believe this. “I see...” you said quietly. “I had every intention of telling you, I promise.” he quickly interjects with worry. You linger there, thinking for a moment, you thought about leaving, but there is another part of you urging you to stay. Axel reaches out to touch you but quickly recoils, probably realizing it’s not a good idea.

When you had this fascination with the occult, you read about his kind. They killed people. They drained them dry. You look at him once more. “Are you… are you going to kill me?” you ask. There’s this look of shock on his face. “What?! No! No.” he tries to assure you, and it somewhat works because you start to relax. “I wouldn’t dream of that.” His tone is soft and comforting. “So why did you invite me here?” there’s a pause as he looks down at his hands, “Because I like you.” you believe him. For some reason, you believe him. “But I can understand if you wanna call it here–” “I didn’t say that.” you interrupt him, and you see his eyebrows raise. “What?” the incubus sounds admittedly confused. You moved closer to him. Now you were bold, taking his hand and placing it on your thigh. He takes the hint soon after, and you two continue where you left off.

You see him shift to remove his pants, and of course, the fucking porn star and now revealed incubus has the most enormous cock you’ve ever seen. But, of course, why would you expect anything less? It was over seven inches in length and pretty thick in girth, he was uncircumcised, and it was blue like the rest of him. You weren’t sure if you would be able to take all this, but you couldn’t wait to try.

He continues taking the lead, putting his hands on your knees and spreading your legs wide open for him to see all you had to offer. Axel looks at you with hunger in his eyes as he strokes his cock’s head against your clit in a slow, daunting motion. He’s teasing you, and you love it, but you wanted all he had, and you wanted it inside you. You take your hand and point it down so his head meets your entrance, you look up at him with a wanting gaze, and you see him grin. Finally, he looks down, and you see him spit, and when it meets your cunt you feel a sort of warmth as he rubs it around your hole’s entrance. “Ready?” he asks you, “Yes, please,” you reply.

You feel him slowly slide it in, stopping every so often up until he is entirely in. He’s letting you adjust to him, waiting for your okay to move. He was inside you. There was a demon inside you, part of you couldn’t believe this was happening, but the other part of you wanted this moment to last forever. When you finally feel ready, you give him a nod, and he nods back. The incubus starts to move his hips, and you feel his cock sliding out before it slams back in. The motion causes a shiver through your body. The motions continue until they gradually get faster in rhythm, and you wrap your legs around his waist. “That’s it.” you hear him say in a low voice, “Taking my cock like a good pet.” you feel a claw glide across your lower lip as he continues his merciless thrusts into you. Your body felt so hot. It was on fire! “Moan for me, my dove.” it’s a command you’ll gladly follow, so you moan. You moaned out his name and swore to God as this demonic, beautiful creature ruined you. He grabs your hips, his claws digging into your skin as he continues thrusting, ensuring he hits your particular spot to make you see stars. “Ah–fuck!” you cry, feeling your sweet release.

Axel moves you onto his lap, keeping his hands on your hips and bouncing you up and down on his cock with such a fierce pace that you could hardly catch your breath. You hook your arms around his shoulders, but it barely keeps you stable. He’s relentless with his cock, and he will make sure you cum. Again. And it doesn’t take long. You can feel it building up again as he switches from bouncing you to ramming it inside you. His balls slapped against your skin with a loud audible smack! “Come on, pet, cum for me again,” he growls out this command, and you do. You cum so fucking hard that your legs start to shake, and your fingernails dig deep into his blue skin. “Fuuuuuuuuuuck!” you cry out as you let your orgasm wash over you. You can see a smirk form on his lips. Smug bastard. If he wasn’t fucking your brains out, you would have made a remark. He tilts his head, “Think you can spare one more?” he asks. “Y-yes. Yes, please.” you needed just one more… One more release.

Axel takes you off his cock and puts you back underneath him, your legs parting once more as he slides back in. Another shaky moan leaves you as he moves his hips once more. The pace was more gentle this time as Axel moved inside you. He was letting this one build-up, and it was killing you. The slow, deliberate motions drive you crazy, and the demon knew precisely what he was doing. “You want it?” he whispers huskily in your ear, and you can only muster a nod. “Okay then.” he wanted to make you beg, but he’d save it for another time. Suddenly the thrusts became harder and harder until you could feel your cunt tighten around his cock, then he cums. His hot sticky semen filled you up, and it was enough to make you finish cumming too.

He withdraws from you and lays down next to you. You feel a sticky substance trail down your thigh, goddamn there was a lot. Unlike you, he seems fine after that, back to his energetic self, “Here, let me clean you up.” but when he goes to help you, you give him a little wave. “G-Give me a second….” you sound out of breath. “Maybe you can… grab some towels?” you suggest, and he gives you a nod before heading to his bathroom. You notice he’s back in his human form when he comes back. The Axel you knew before… all this. You spread your legs and allow him to clean you up. He was so gentle with you, it was strange for sure, but it was something you appreciated though a question comes to mind. He came in you, and you weren’t on the pill. “Hey–” he looks up at you, “I’m… not going to get instantly pregnant, am I?” you sound worried, but he gives you a shake of the head. “Long story short, no. I can’t get people pregnant without some weird demonic magic. I’m infertile otherwise.” Well, that’s convenient, and for some reason, you believe him.

Axel finishes cleaning you up, and you gather enough strength to finally sit up. You rest your head on his shoulder, and he wraps his arm around you. “Hell of a first date, huh?” He cracks a joke. “Yeah, and I look forward to the rest of them.” You see his eyes light up, “Really?” you give a tired nod, “Yeah.” you can feel the excitement radiate off him. You were going to stick around for sure. Besides the whole demon thing, Axel seemed like a sweet guy. And well, you were always curious about Incubi anyways…

#incubus x reader #reader insert #smut #short story #oc x reader #NO PREGNANCY HERE

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carmenized-onions · 5 months ago

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hi. tried to reblog and leave a bunch of tags but made a mistake and tumblr wouldn't let me edit the post SO i took a screenshot because I WILL NOT REWRITE ALL OF THAT BECAUSE IT WAS ALREADY TERRIBLE TO TRY AND GO BACK TO MY NOTES TO INCLUDE THEM INTO THE TAGS BECAUSE THE APP WOULD ERASE EVERYTHING so here you have a long ass pic with a ton of tags. love u u fucking mastermind 💋

I DID IN FACT GET THIS ASK FIRST OF ALL, IF YOU SENT ANOTHER ONE OTHER THAN THE DID YOU GET THAT ONE, then I am missing one, but I got this one!

I'm so glad you think it could standalone and make sense because I went into posting this like "so many people are not gonna be able to keep up with the tense changing and the time skipping, i'm being incoherent" thank you all for proving me wrong. My writing profs taught me to believe everyone does not have reading comprehension. Perhaps we should be giving more credit to readers, me thinks.

Man, I wish Carmen in The Bear canon aligned with CK not particularly because I wish he was better but because watching S3 I was like oh,,,, did I get all that wrong? Because to me, yeah does Carmen run away from things? 1 fucking million percent. At the same time, however, Carmen is an artist and I think like,,,, he's taught, yknow? He takes direction and critique, is always how I took him-- And so like, he just compartmentalizes criticism of his character the same way he would his craft; and he fucking likes making shit better, so he transfers it to life.

I considered massively pivoting from this choice for him to accept that he needs to be better, and instead like, Bojacks it, basically, but like, I'd already done this in CK canon:

Did I emulate my own previous scene to call back to the beginning of their relationship in chapter 13? Yeah 100% I did but back on topic--

I'd already decided that this was how Carmen went about things, and to be fair, I think honestly if everyone had just let each other finish sentences in S3EP01, that entire season I think would've gone an entirely different route, but c'est la vie, that's the tragic comedy of it all.

NOW ONTO MIKEY! I think some have said they prefer this Jimmy negotiation to canon-- And to be fair, though the sobriety aspect may not have been a part of it, Mikey did say he wanted to franchise with Carmen, and that's what the money was for. Or at least that's what Carmen affirms:

god fucking jesus christ he was so much more charming in S2 what the FUCK moving ON

But anyways, I think the 10k/week thing honestly is something Uncle would do, and I guess this is me staking my bet on it. I'd like to believe Mikey was climbing his way out-- Or maybe that's more tragic? I dunno. Regardless, I adore him, so, yknow. he's the guy!

50 PLUS YEARS FOR CARMEN? YOU THINK THIS GUY COULD LIVE TO 80? BABY LOOK UP POPCORN LUNG THIS MAN WAS GETTING ULCERS AT 21 WE'RE LUCKY IF WE GET TO 60

regardless, thank you for enjoying i'm so glad that my interpretation of Mikey was enjoyed. I tried to be as like,,, accurate as possible to what I feel he'd act like out of the small scenes we've seen of him, but I also absolutely had to pull from my own oldest brother. so. i don't have issues idk what all of you are talking about.

also, I will put this in a master post of like, bits I was doing, later, because there's a fucking lot, but this is the last post I'm making before bed and I wanna get yelled at about this in my inbox in the morning nothing makes me happier:

Chapter 1! Tony Terry Tommy!

Chapter 13! Two Steps Back.

I know I'm a bitch, aren't I? I'm sure rereaders noticed this but I wanted the whole class to know.

While I'm at it, Chapter 12! Hit em with it!

YEAH BABY SHE'D BEEN THINKING ABOUT IT THE WHOOOOLLLEEE TIMMEEEEE YEEEEAAAHHHHHHHH I'm fucked up for this one. I had the Cold thing planned since chapter 1 I'm so SICK with it. Yell at me in my inbox I do love to make everyone mad ngl call me Carmen cause I'm a fucking shit starter baby

thank you for your thoughts and thank you for giving me a place to yap for WAY too fucking long GOOD NIGHT OR GOOD MORNING PENDING WHERE YOU ARE!!

#yapping #ask #ashtonweon #season 3 opinions #onion wip #i say wip cause like i'm talking about the process? it makes sense shut up

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ceasarslegion · 7 months ago

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Regarding my tags on that last rb:

One thing that really fucking bothers me about those posts that act like every dog in public is some wild animal about to snap at any moment is the like, slight self-importance you get from a lot of them. Like is it just me, or do those "never EVER bring your dog ANYWHERE" posts have a slight hint of "how dare your dog bark at me when i got in its personal space as a stranger, they're basically a savage beast" to them?

And hey bro if youre that utterly terrified of dogs maybe either dont go to places that dogs frequent or prepare yourself for visiting them. Like if you go to the park there might be a dog there, no the owners are not assholes trying to kill you if they unclip the dogs leash to play fetch for a bit. If you go to the airport you might see small dogs in the terminal. If you live in a place built for walking youll probably see dogs tied up outside grocery stores and cafes waiting for their owners to get back. You can not demand dog owners to lock up their pets forever for your comfort. If your issue is with poorly trained animals then say that, but dont pretend that the issue is with people just bringing their dogs out with them. Jesus christ.

#some thoughts

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lakesbian · 1 year ago

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i guess it's hard to get a read on how much he actually cares about palatine and dauphine or reciprocates their dislike of him? also why did he say that about "sexual favors"

(this post is about the fanfiction sword and sorcery, which you should read because it's good. it's written by tumblr users shakertwelve and nonplatonicsubtext about their estateverse au, which you can read more about in the estateposting tag on tumblr user shakertwelve's blog. would i ever lie to you about a fanfic recommendation.)

ok ahem. i've posted about alec's opinions on palatine and dauphine before bc i think the dynamic potential there is hilarious and i'm so delighted that they got put into the fic. the fancy frilly little freaques are fiiiighting!

Alec Is So Entirely 100% Certainly Without Doubt more mad about palatine and dauphine than they are about him. it would frankly be more accurate to ask how much victor and amelia reciprocate his dislike, because they are living RENT fucking free in his sad little repressed brain. but, like all of his emotions, it's just not super obvious because of how repressed he is--he feels and displays everything in a very muted way. the posts i linked get into the main bits of Why He Does Not Like Them At All, but to elaborate based on analysis of what's actually in the fic:

“Regent had a run-in with them a while back, before he joined the team,” Tattletale said. “He was new to the city, so he didn’t realize what his costume choice would make people think of.” She gestured vaguely in the direction of the Estate capes. “But he was doing things they don’t do and going to parts of town they stay out of, which caused some confusion. Eventually Dauphine and Palatine tracked him down to have a talk about it. It didn’t go well.”

as we can extrapolate from above, alec's history with them is like this:

he shows up to brockton bay as a severely maladapted, depressed, Generally Unwell cult-escapee on the young (and probably malnourished) side of 13 with effectively nothing to his name but his powers

as a weak cape without a team and zero social or systematic connections to turn to for help, he's forced to do very small-scale villainy just to scrape by enough to survive. and the entire time he is wearing his costume that veritably Screams "i am a special little prince please look at how wonderful i am." jesus christ he needs a hug.

these random cunts, palatine and dauphine, pull up and basically tell him to Fuck Off and stop Stealing Their Family's Schtick

these random cunts are also dressed fancy like him, and dauphine especially is someone alec would identify with fashion-wise, given that it's explicitly stated that her costume is princess-like. "Even with her elaborate costume, she looked more like a child’s princess doll than an actual princess." taylor rags on it, but it's still princess-like

this random fancy cunt, dauphine, is the daughter of...marquis, an incredibly successful, fancy villain with long hair who has a lot of money and lives in a mansion and, from alec's perspective, loves and cares about her dearly and buys her nicey clothes. and beyond just that, she has a brother who--instead of tormenting her & then laughing about it--wears a special fancy gleaming knight costume and bridal carries her around and is so sweet and nicey to her if anything bad happens. like, for example, alec getting pissy at her and tripping her.

we already know alec gets Insanely, Malevolently, Incandescently Jealous over someone he's engaged in hostilities w/ having a nice family. (see: him doing all that shit to sophia). we also know that he isn't very good at recognizing this jealousy in himself. (see: aisha revealing in late worm that alec only realized that he had done all that shit to sophia out of a jealous rage like a week or two later when he was talking to her about it.)

which is to say: alec sees dauphine as being Sorta Like Him, but if he had a 100% ideal family (dashing golden knight brother that takes care of her! rich fancy father who protects them and buys them nice shit! and they all live in a mansion!), and LET ME FUCKING TELL YOU. HE IS SO INSANELY JEALOUS HE HOPES THE ENTIRE ESTATE GETS HIT BY A NUCLEAR WARHEAD AND EXPLODES. ...all subconsciously, of course. he expresses this thru things like mocking her for being "a baby about a little trip" &c--insulting the vulnerability & familial care he certainly wishes he could have, while fully unaware why seeing it annoys him so much.

but i digress. keeping all of that in mind, you can see why alec would be infuriated & jealous towards them even if they were completely neutral towards him. but they weren't neutral towards him--instead, these people he views as being Like Him, But Living Out His Wildest Dreams, approached him to hassle him for accidentally appearing like he was one of them. local loving royal villain family approaches boy who is obviously projecting subconscious desire to be a beloved prince onto his costume design and goes "quit stealing our vibes," boy reacts with a parasocial grudge. his weird complexes about them shall reign eternal. he wishes he had a second, cooler palatine to beat the first, lamer palatine to death with hammers, and then bridal carry him to stand dismissively over dauphine's prostrate form as she weeps over the first, lamer palatine's corpse. and also he wants the second, cooler palatine to be hand-feeding him a bag of chips ahoy the entire time.

...i should stress again, this is alllll more or less entirely subconscious. alec doesn't know what the fuck he's feeling ever, this just comes across as a subdued vague annoyance/disdain for them.

so, why the weird "sexual favors" remark? it genuinely was not intended to be a harassing comment, nor do i think he genuinely would say he believes that marquis prostitutes his daughter if he thought about it for a second. but he does identify with dauphine in the sense that they're aesthetically similar enough for him to be extra-jealous about her. and so upon hearing "dauphine's favor," he takes the meaning of "you can have a favor from my kid" he's most used to as a child who was prostituted by his own villain father, and he projects it onto her. if i want to read into it beyond that, i think he might be unconsciously/impulsively trying to poke a hole in their family--a sort of [hopeful] "marquis sucks :)?" where he'd like to hear that marquis isn't as much of an envy-worthy dad as alec thought. meanwhile from the estate's perspective he was just a creep for no fucking reason. there are other, far more important things for lisa to be paying attention to during this scene, so i don't think she was wasting any time reading alec, but if she Was she certainly would've gotten a good show of severe mental unwellness.

#ask #parahumans #wormblr #worm spoilers #scarf don't look

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wayward-lives · 1 year ago

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I found faith in his body and peace in his eyes

*NSFW*

a/b/o fic

Amateur porn stars Bucky and Steve

Both run in kinda different circles

They eventually find out about each other when Steve gets a comment on an OnlyFans pic telling him to check out this cute omega who does a lot of sex toy ratings

Steve looks Bucky up and is instantly smitten but doesn't know how to start a conversation with him

Eventually Steve just sucks it up and messages him, praising him on his most recent video

Turns out Bucky knows who Steve is, and has been a fan of his work for a while

They start doing a weird little courtship-ey thing; Bucky will post a semi-nude pic and tag Steve, and Steve will publicly talk to Bucky in his videos

Their fans kinda go a bit wild, and beg them to do a collab together

So Steve and Bucky talk it out and end up doing a livestream where they Facetime each other and get off

The fans love it, and it ends up making them both a lot more money than they thought it would

During it all, Steve's developed a massive crush on Bucky and is pining after him a bit pathetically and he's not entirely sure if Bucky feels the same way, or if this is all just a bit of fun for him

One day Steve's walking home from work and bumps into someone on the street, then realises it's Bucky (Jesus Christ he's even more gorgeous in person)

Steve blurts out an invitation for Bucky to join him at the bar he was planning to go to, and Bucky agrees

When they're there, they get a bit tipsy, their tongues loosened, and Steve ends up asking if Bucky would want to do an in-person scene with him

Bucky seems really excited and agrees, and they make plans for Bucky to go over to Steve's place that weekend

They film the whole thing and it gets pretty intimate, to the point where they actually forget the camera's rolling and just bask in a post-orgasm haze, sharing soft kisses and endearments

Afterwards Steve freaks out a bit, because he got a bit carried away and the viewers have picked up on his crush

Steve tries to keep some distance from Bucky, but they end up meeting up again and again to do collabs.

Finally Bucky ends up asking if Steve can spend his heat with him, because they're pretty close friends by now and they know each other's bodies like the backs of their hands

Steve agrees, because how could he not?

They spend the heat together, and afterwards Bucky tells Steve that he's tired of waiting for Steve to make a move, and openly asks Steve to court him

Bossy bottom Bucky who rides Steve's face and licks his precome off his stomach, and edges Steve while riding him. When Bucky finally comes Steve just flips them over and goes to town, and when his knot pops he just becomes completely non-verbal

----

Steve's life is beautifully, blissfully simple. He's thirty years old with his own flat in Brooklyn, works as a freelance illustrator and graphic designer on his own hours, and has a small, close-knit group of friends to rely on. Sure, he doesn't have a mate, and he hasn't been on a proper date in years, but he's got a rut partner who always manages to take the edge off, and really, does he need anything else? And yeah, maybe his friends don’t know about his side job as a semi-professional erotic photography model and porn star, but if they haven't found out by now, then he doubts they ever will.

When he'd picked up artistic pornography as a hobby, Steve hadn't known he would get so invested in it - or that he'd become so popular. He'd been twenty-four, bankrupt on student debts, working three jobs and desperate to get a bit of extra money, and he'd hastily made an OnlyFans account and posted a picture of his abs that he'd taken after a particularly hard session at the gym. Six years on and a vast improvement of his photography skills later, Steve has several thousand followers on OnlyFans and Twitter, he's done more than one erotic photoshoot for porn magazines, and he'd even been hired to do several videos with AlphaCock, a high-ranking porn agency.

So yeah. Steve's life is great, and he has absolutely no desire to change any part of it.

At least until he gets the message.

It's early, maybe seven in the morning on a Thursday. Steve's already been for his morning run, had his shower, and is currently sitting at his kitchen table, mug of coffee in hand and plate of toast in front of him as he browses through his notifications. He'd uploaded a new photo just the night before; a candid black and white shot of him reclining on his bed, face turned away from the camera and cock hard against his stomach, and it had already gained a few thousand views and likes. Steve absently likes a few comments, replies to a couple of questions, and is about to close the website when he sees the message.

It's a new comment on one of his older videos; a user by the name of iwantfatalphadick69 - not the most eloquent username, but Steve had definitely seen worse.

Hey Cap, loving the content! Would u ever be interested in doing a collab with @JamieBaby? He's one of my favs and def your type. Seeing u 2gether would be sooo hot 🤤

Steve raises an eyebrow - it's certainly not the first time he's gotten requests to do collaborations with other creators, but it had been a while, and hell, he's curious. So he switches to the search bar and types in JamieBaby and promptly chokes on his tongue.

Because, damn. JamieBaby is one of the fucking hottest people Steve has ever seen. His profile picture has him on his stomach in bed, facing the camera, wearing nothing but a pair of lacy black briefs that barely cover the swell of his ass. Long, dark hair, steel blue eyes, and pouty lips curled up into a playful smile look up at Steve through his screen as JamieBaby bares his throat, showing off the clear, unmarked expanse of his neck. Taking a deep breath and ignoring the way his cock is suddenly pressing insistently at his sweatpants, Steve scrolls down to look at the bio.

Jamie / Omega / 26 years old / NYC / He/him pronouns / I do a lot of sex toy reviews / Link to cams here / Message me if you want to commission a photo set/vid!

Steve absently licks his lips, his eyes flicking back up to that profile picture. Unable to help himself, Steve quickly clicks subscribe and scrolls down, his mouth immediately starting to water. In this one, Jamie is facing away from the camera and presenting, his pink hole and hard cock all on display. Poking out of his hole is a small, silicone rod with a flared end. The caption reads Playing with my new vibe ;)

Steve shifts again in his seat and reaches down, hissing slightly when his hand comes into contact with his covered cock. He's so hard that there's already a small, wet spot on the front of his sweatpants, and Steve quickly finishes his coffee before hurrying over to the couch, discarding his pants along the way. His cock stands proudly against his stomach, and as soon as Steve wraps a hand around it he lets out a long groan. Fuck, it's been so long since he's gotten so hard from just looking at a few photos.

Steve scrolls down a bit more, and his cock jumps at the next picture; Jamie leaning over a vanity table with a cheeky smile, wearing nothing but scraps of lace. Black stockings cling to his legs, accentuating his thick thighs and shapely calves, and his ass is barely covered by a pair of black lace panties. The selling point of the photo, the thing that makes Steve's heart race and his mouth water, is the corset. It's black to match the panties, with a wine red trim and red laces at the back, and it sits just under the swell of Jamie's pecs, showing off those dusky nipples and supple skin of his chest.

Steve lets his hand move a bit faster, his eyes roving greedily over that slim body, that round ass, those thick thighs. God, what he would give to be right there in that photo; rutting his cock up between those lace-covered thighs, groping at the gorgeous chest that's almost spilling out over the corset. Marking up the long, pale expanse of Jamie's neck, biting down and listening to the whimpers and whines that he'll lick from Jamie's mouth. Maybe he'd ease those panties to the side, rub the head of his cock against that red, slick hole. Maybe he'd drop to his knees, shove his tongue inside, suck on Jamie's pretty little dick until the omega is shrieking.

Steve lets out a long, low moan, feeling his knot start to expand under his hand, and quickly scrolls down further. The next set he comes across is a video; Jamie, his back to the camera, straddling a man whose face is out of frame. Jamie's riding him so viciously he's almost bouncing, the meat of his ass jiggling with every roll of his hips. The sounds that he's making... Steve wants to bite them off his lips.

It's that thought that has Steve dropping the phone and wrapping his spare hand around his knot, crying out as his orgasm shoots through his body hard enough to leave him seeing stars. Flashes of dark hair and pale skin and smoky, grey eyes dance behind his eyelids, and by the time Steve's stopped shaking and his knot's gone down, his come is drying on his stomach.

Steve lets out a long breath and tips his head back, his eyes slipping closed as he blindly grabs for his phone. He hasn't had a reaction like that to just a few pictures and a video in years; it's unnerving, the way a coy smile and pretty eyes made him lose it. Scrolling back up to the top of Jamie's page, Steve's eye catches on a new update.

Hey guys! I know it's been a while since I've given you anything more than pics, so I'll be on cams tonight from 8pm EST. Can't wait to see you there! 😘

Steve's mouth goes dry, even as he groans and lets his head fall back again. Fuck, this boy is going to be the end of him.

#abandoned works #my writing #marvel #bucky barnes #steve rogers #stucky #fanfic #smut

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