#big ol smooch on the head

[triona-tribblescore]

silly lil doodle thing of Raph getting the affirmation he deserves.

[science-lings]

I love him I love him I love him

[politemagic]

The Haunting of Sleep Manor: Chapter III

II has a strange dream. A priceless chandelier is destroyed. Vessel knows he needs to tell the others about what he's experienced, but there are still things left to uncover at Langley Manor.

Masterlist

2.2k words | ao3

a/n: this story is turning into a much bigger beast than I initially intended, so I thank you all for your patience & support as I've been writing! your kind words have meant the absolute world to me, I hope you continue to enjoy the spooky adventures.

II was trudging down a path in the woods, the ground slowly turning from coarse dirt to a thick black sludge that clung to his bare feet, reluctant to let go with each step he took. But II had to keep going. He always had to keep going.

Vessel’s voice bounced off the tree trunks, his shrieks stabbed themself into II’s ears and blood began to trickle down the column of his throat. It was unlike any sound he’d ever heard from Vessel’s mouth: it was a soul-crushing, heart-wrenching wail filled with a pain that was so palpable it made it difficult for II to breathe. When he tried to call out to him, he found only silence in the space where his voice should have been. 

The woods grew dark around him, a kind of unnatural darkness you’d imagine comes to you on your deathbed. II could feel tears streaming down his cheeks, blood oozing from his ears, he continued to fight against the seemingly sentient ground beneath his feet. The black sludge beneath his feet grew thicker, tearing the skin from his soles, gripping his ankles like a demon determined to drag him down to Hell.  He tried again to call out to Vessel, determined to find him in this horrific place, but once again his voice box was empty, no sound passing his lips. He wrenched his foot from the sludge, yet this time it did not let go. Instead, it snapped II’s foot right back beneath its opaque surface, sending him toppling backwards.

The sludge welcomed his fall with open arms. The mysterious substance quickly engulfed him, and II watched in horror as his body disappeared before his own eyes, sinking lower and lower into the void of darkness until only his face remained above the surface. Vessel’s wailing cries grew louder as he was submerged. He tried to wriggle free, desperate to free himself and find his friend. But he knew he didn’t have much time as he felt the pressure of the sludge around his chest mounting quickly. It began to creep into his ears, teasing the seam of his lips as it consumed him, dragging him away from Vessel. The only consolation was that the sludge managed to muffle the sound of his screams, the sound of his failure, though it seemed to have a voice of its own that flooded into II’s mind as he lost himself in the darkness.

“You have finally come home to me, II.”

The sound of the familiar voice nearly stopped II’s heart. Without thinking he parted his lips to reply, and the sludge wasted no time in claiming his insides as it had claimed his limbs. It rushed down his throat, flooded his veins and began to devour everything that he was, everything he knew.

II’s eyes shot open, his breath coming out in short gasps as his body thrashed against the couch cushions, believing them to be the same darkness from his dream. It took him a moment to collect himself and regain full control of his limbs, the cold sensation of the sludge still receding from his body. Finally he swung his legs over the side of the couch and the sensation of the cold floor against his feet snapped him into reality. He glanced around the empty living room which was faintly illuminated by the warm morning sun leaking in through the curtains. He assumed everyone else had already woken up and tried to push himself to his feet but felt a sharp pain shoot up his legs from the bottoms of his feet, causing him to drop back down onto the couch in surprise. He carefully lifted his foot to examine it, and found the sole stained completely black, with small pieces of skin peeling away to reveal the raw, red flesh beneath. He found the other to be in identical condition. 

He had to find the others.

II carefully raised himself from his seat, wincing as he felt the sting of the broken skin against the cold floor. He padded out into the hallway, where he could just barely make out a set of voices coming from the kitchen. He poked his head around the door frame, expecting to find the others sitting around the kitchen table chatting like normal, but he found the room empty. He furrowed his brow and began to turn to walk back towards the foyer when he heard a loud crash. He walked as fast as his aching feet could carry him towards the source of the sound, a slight panic blooming in his chest.

II emerged from the hallway to see III careening down the stairs, IV close on his heels. They all stopped dead in their tracks at the sight of the remains of the chandelier that once hung from the ceiling scattered across the floor of the foyer. Vessel was in the doorway to the library, eyes wide in fear as he stared at the broken light fixture, only feet from where he now stood.

“What the hell happened?” II asked, looking between the shards of shattered crystal and Vessel.

“Are you alright?” IV asked, skirting around the broken shards to stand before Vessel, resting a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I was just coming out of the library when…” He trailed off, gesturing from the ceiling to the floor with his hand.

“It’s probably just an old chandelier,” IV said reassuringly. Though something in II’s gut told him that the chandelier didn’t fall from the ceiling at random.

“Oh sure. Yeah, that was just an old chandelier and those were just rats that I heard upstairs yesterday, right?” III replied sarcastically, crossing his arms over his chest. II looked pointedly at Vessel, who was already looking at him when he spoke again.

“There’s some things I need to tell you about.” Vessel said seriously, looking between the three of them before walking into the living room, nodding his head for them to follow.

“What’s going on, Ves?” IV asked softly as he, II, and III sat shoulder-to-shoulder on the couch in front of Vessel, who took a seat on the floor. 

“There’s more. About the house.” Vessel started, taking a deep breath.

“What? Not structurally sound after all?” III said in an attempt to lighten the mood, but the look in Vessel’s eyes had him clamping his mouth shut.

“The house is haunted.” Vessel said simply, and the others looked between each other with concern.

“So, The chandelier…” III began, trailing off when Vessel nodded.

Vessel began to explain what he had seen in the kitchen the day before. The others listened intently, nodding along as Vessel described the ghosts he had seen, the way the one had spoken to him so coldly. 

“I felt unwelcome the second I stepped inside, but she made it abundantly clear herself, too.” Vessel said, rubbing his hand over his chest where he could still feel the unease clenching his chest.

“Well they’re going to have to get over that.” III scoffed.

“She said something about ‘our kind’ making things worse.”

“Fuck’s that supposed to mean?” III asked, feeling anger bubbling in his chest at the thought of being unwelcome in their own home. “She doesn’t know shit about us.”

“Perhaps we’re not the first that Sleep has brought here?” II offered, and Vessel shrugged.

“Whoever came before us, I don’t think Sleep guided them here in the same way… But there is something strangely powerful about this house. I just know it.”

“What do you mean?” IV asked, and Vessel glanced over to II, who nodded his head encouragingly.

Vessel began to tell them the story he’d told II the night before of his encounter with Sleep. III sat perfectly still for a change, only moving to rest his elbows against his knees as he listened to Vessel describe the realization that he was no longer in his physical body. As II listened he felt that same cold from his dream begin to lap at the lesions on his feet, sending a shiver up his spine. When Vessel finished his recollection, II spoke softly.

“He came to me, too.” Vessel’s eyes widened at II’s admission. 

As II told his own tale of his interaction with Sleep, he felt that dreamy cold crawling up his legs, leaving goosebumps in its wake. Is Sleep listening to us? He thought to himself, and a faint voice in his head told him that He was always listening.

“And when I woke up, I noticed this.” II said, looking between them hesitantly before he lifted his foot from the floor. IV and III leaned closer so they could inspect the raw flesh coated in black. IV glanced up at II with a hint of fear in his eyes.

“How could He have done that to you? I’ve never even felt His physical form…” IV trailed off.

“I think something about being in this house makes our connection to Him stronger,” Vessel started, and they could see the gears turning in his mind. “He was able to induce a dream state and He’s never done that before, so I don’t see why He wouldn’t also be able to physically touch us.”

“Maybe that’s why we were led here, if He’s more powerful here.” IV offered.

“I think I know the first step to figuring this whole thing out,” III said, the others turning to look at him. “I think we need to get up to the fourth floor. See if what you saw in your dream was real.”

“It seemed like His living quarters,” Vessel said. “It felt almost like He was inviting me into His bedroom.” 

Vessel heard a gasp, and his eyes snapped to the doorway, where he saw a female ghost he hadn’t seen the day before, and surely he would have remembered her. In contrast to the air of authority surrounding the woman he’d seen in the kitchen, she had an aura of love about her. She was beautiful, the kind of beautiful that would have dropped jaws and turned heads in her lifetime. Her hand was pressed against her chest where he imagined her heart once beat, and she shook her head furiously at him.

“Whether your dream was real or not, I think we can all agree that there’s something up there.” IV said, oblivious to their new listener.

“Oh, so we don’t think they were rats anymore then?” III said with a slight smirk on his lips, earning him a thwack! on the chest from IV.

“We won’t know until we look, will we?” II added with a shrug, turning to see Vessel’s eyes transfixed on the doorway.

“You must stop them!” The ghost cried, breezing into the room to kneel on the floor beside II’s legs. “Please, you will only make things worse.” 

“What do you mean?” Vessel asked her, scrunching his brow.

“I mean, I think the only way to-” II began explaining, only to be quickly shushed by Vessel. II furrowed his brow in confusion, following Vessel’s fixed gaze to the empty space beside the couch, his face melting in understanding.

“You will not learn anything. He will only use you to become more powerful.” The woman replied. 

“What do you know about Sleep?” Vessel asked, his eyes not leaving hers. The others sat in silence as they watched Vessel converse with the invisible woman.

“Is that what you call Him?” She asked softly, almost thoughtfully. “I’ve heard Him called many names over the years.”

“What do you know of Him?” He pressed.

“I think the question here is not what I know, but rather what you know. He has never been so forthcoming before, never shown Himself to anyone. You four seem to be… different from the others.” She conceded, letting her eyes drift over the other three beside her. 

“Different how?” He asked, but she only shook her head.

“The chandelier was supposed to be a warning. You should get far, far away from this place, it is not your home.”

“We were brought here with divine purpose,” Vessel said pointedly to the ghost. “We were brought here in service to Sleep, and we have every intention of staying.”

“Vessel?” III said hesitantly, wanting to understand the context of the one-sided conversation. The ghost’s eyes snapped back to Vessel.

“You’ve given him your name, haven’t you?” She whispered, her eyes widening. She shook her head vigorously, making a cross over her chest as she stood. She cast a pitying glance over the four of them before she disappeared from Vessel’s sight. Vessel felt a sinking feeling in his chest at her reaction and he fully turned his attention back to the other vessels.

“Ghost?” II asked, to which Vessel nodded.

“She seemed afraid of something. She said it was a warning, the chandelier.” Vessel answered. 

“Some fucking warning.” II muttered, shaking his head.

“They’re going to have to do a lot worse than that if they want to get rid of us.” III said loudly, turning his head just in case there was another eavesdropping ghost.

“What are we going to do?” IV asked worriedly, and Vessel just shrugged.

“We’re going to find out what the hell is going on, is what we’re gonna do.” III said with determination, standing from the couch and walking out of the living room.

as always, any comments/feedback are greatly treasured and appreciated <3

taglist: @bucchiarati (if you would like to be tagged in future updates, just let me know🖤)

[butterfilledpockets]

hey! just wanted to tell u that in the last donnie part of b.e.n.t, its not linked to the next part!

shit-

THANKYOU!!!!

[natjennie]

IM SORRY YOU LOST THE SISTER YOU NEVER HAD YOURE THE SISTER I NEVER HAD

[yours-the-author]

So creature of him :)

Girlfriend privileges

[hoshigray]

nanami x big ole freak for the people please 🙏

- megan anon

𝐚. 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: *smacks and slides hands together* yessirrrr! based on this ask + iconic song by queen Megan

⊹ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: Nanami x afab/fem! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - oral (f! + m! receiving) - fingering (f! receiving) - 69 + cowgirl + mating press positions - slight bondage; restriction of hands - protected sex (psa: wrap it up, or get tf up) - clitoral play - orgasm denial - pet names ( baby, love, sweetheart) - reader lowhighkey a dom - implied fwb relationship.

⊹ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.4k

“Yo! Nanami~n, wanna hang out with me and Shoko tonight?”

“No thanks; I have something to get to.” 

“Ehhh, something or someone?” Gojo looks over the shoulder to see his subordinate is on the phone and, by the looks of it, texting another person. “C’mon tell me, is it a guy, girl, a curse—who got the attention of the reserved Mister Nanami Kento?”

“Gojo,” the blonde man shuts his snow-haired superior down while stuffing his phone into his tan suit. “It’s my business; don’t meddle in.” He turns with the sole of his foot and walks away, the whine of the taller other not fazing him.

Gojo snickers to himself while watching his peer stride away. “Wonder who's the lucky one who got that guy to finally live a little…”

It’s known to those around him that Nanami liked to keep to himself, even in matters outside of his work. There’s no need to mix business with pleasure—especially in his line of occupation where there’s no guarantee on the good side of things or fulfilling false promises to people you care about. He’d much rather keep the two separate, going to Jujutsu Tech and taking care of missions in a timely methodology as a grade one sorcerer and wind down in the comfort of his leisure time or home before repeating the process the next day. 

However, tonight would be one of those rare nights where he’d go elsewhere to mellow down…at someone else’s request, such as the person who messaged him to meet at a hotel and the one behind the door he knocks on before it’s opened.

You enter his vision with a grin. “There you are; I almost thought you didn’t get my text.”

“I did,” Nanami took off his goggles and stuffed them in his pockets. “Did you wait long?”

“Too long,” your hands are placed on his chest and slide to his sunken cheeks to cup. “I guess it’s better late than never, but you know I don’t like wasting my time, especially since you’re the one who summoned me.”

He brings a hand to yours to kiss your palm, and chocolate brown eyes pair with a tiny smirk. “Is it too late to make up for my tardy?”

Your smile grows broader with hooded eyes, and your face inches closer to his. “That depends on how fast your fine ass can get inside the damn room,” you whisper before claiming his lips, a spark between you two ignited within milliseconds.

The fair-headed man wastes no time, leading you back inside the hotel room and closing the door with his foot. Hands are instantly roaming each other’s bodies, yours undoing his tie and discarding it with his blazer while he unbuttons your blouse to slide down your shoulders and meet the floor, same with your pencil skirt. With his lips still locked on yours, Nanami gently lies you by the edge of the bed, spreading your stocking legs for more access to hover above you. Lust has your smooches driven for a needier connection, tongues invading each other’s cavity, and your legs wrapping around him as he rocks his hips to your figure.

You’re the first to break the kiss, biting his bottom lip with a tease. He sighs, “Is that fast enough for you?”

He makes you titter. “So attentive, aren’t you? But you know I want more than these nice lips to play with.”

Oh, he knows. Trust and believe, he does. 

“Ahhshhh…! Damn…feel so good, love.”

He throws his head back to the pillow, savoring the sense of your tongue lapping around the crown of his erect cock. His pants were now off of him, you mounted atop him, your ass facing his way while his groin was arranged before your face. 

His view was downright taken over with the sight of your butt and lacy panties swaying from side to side, all the while you were kissing and sucking on the skin of his dick. Your hands move to please him, one stroking his shaft in your grasp while the other fondles his balls with your pretty fingertips.

You suck on his cockhead and release with a soft ‘pop,’ his groan sweet to your eardrums. “Gosh, baby, you sound so pent up,” more licks to his glans jerk his hips, even when the kneads to his scrotum become firmer for the hand on your waist to get tighter. “Loosen up for me; I’ve been craving you like crazy all week...”

“Hnnmm, I can say the same for you, sweetheart,”eyes fixate on your underwear as he slides them to reveal your bare cunt. Seeing a trail of your excitement stick and glisten is no shock. “You seem to be tense yourself,” he brings a forefinger to your labia to lube with your excess fluid, and you hum with a bitten lip as he inserts the digit inside you to wiggle and scrape around. “Feel like it, too.”

“Hooooh,” You don’t hold back a moan—no need when indulging with this man. “Ahhh shit, yess, right there…”

“Yeah? You like this, baby?” He curls the finger with every pull before the push; your wails are too cute not to push for more. “Feels good?”

“Nnmmm…you know what would feel even better?” You peer over your shoulder, your orbs meeting mocha ones as you nudge him with the hit of your toes. “Shutting up and using that handsome face of yours.” Your batted, innocent eyes don’t match the vulgar display of your hips in front of Nanami. Yet he doesn’t scold you, just accepting you with a chuckle while pulling you in. A shiver dances up your spine at the contact of his wet muscle on your chasm, stirs to your clit, and nestling between your folds powers the desire. 

“Ohhh, yesss, just like that, Ken,” you praise before hallow cheeks take in his dick back into your mouth. Muffled sounds of contentment are felt on his cock, and it only pushes him to ravage your sensitive area even more.

However, this is nothing compared to the real deal moments later. 

Nanami knows how much you love to be in control—he’s been with you enough to understand that you’re serious when you need your fix. So, he has no room to refute you when you tie his hands above his head with his necktie and straddle above his lying frame. Yet again, no complaints came from the blonde man. After all, he is the one who has you here in the first place.

He lays on the bed, moaning below as you bounce up and down on his pelvis. For the second time that night, you were riding him down to the point, shrilling euphorically as your hips did the work for your satisfaction. You’re in complete control of the scene: the pace, the speed, the angle, the entire show. 

You lean forward, and the angle and motion of your lower region frequent the presses of your clitoris. “Fuuuhick, ohhhshiiit…!”

Neat golden hair is now untidy; strands cover and stick to his forehead. But that doesn’t obstruct the erotic view of you plunging his length into your aching slit, which has him swallowing thickly with a heated face. “Hnngh! Shit, so tight...”

“Haaaah, ahahaaa, feelin’ good, Kento?” You tease, leaning backward to clamp onto his girth. His dick rubs on the upper wall of your vagina and brushes to your G-spot resulting in your howling. “—Ooohhh, my God, yessss!” There’s no way you wouldn’t be clenching on him like crazy like this!

Makeshift bondage be damned, the man can’t help but buck his pelvis with your movements; the snug of your walls around him are difficult to resist and fuel him to chase the orgasm he’s been wanting all this time, and he can only thank for the condom that shields you from each other’s bare touch—or else his patience would’ve worn thin the round before. 

It’s borderline torture to watch you finger your clit and milk him with his hands bound; he wishes to touch you so badly. And you can see right through him, tittering as you come to a stop and remove yourself from him. He groans at the cold feeling of the air, substituting your warmth. However, that’s changed when you bend to untie his hands and get off his legs.

“C’mon, Kento,” you wet your lips, lying on your back and pulling your legs up. Knees to your chest and your wet cunt instigating an invitation. “Your turn to take care of me.”

God, you were intoxicating, your words making him hot in that dress shirt of his. That’s why he sighs with a scoff as he unbuttons to let his chest and abdomen breathe, aligning his length to join you again.

“I’ll do just that, love.”

© 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲2024 – reblogs and comments are appreciated wholeheartedly ☆ header edit done by me + dividers by @/animatedglittergraphics-n-more.

[dangregreal]

AGHHH

[eternalfics]

…… saiki as your boyfriend !! +

warnings: adorable fluff !!

a/n: I just found this in my drafts- it’s okay because saiki is life 😊

saiki kusuo x gn reader

KUSUO SAIKI, who does everything intimate in front of teruhashi. you wouldn’t mind would you? head ruffles? check. kisses on cheek? mmm.. maybe not. he thought it was a bit embarrassing to be doing this in public, but seeing your suprised face and hearing teruhashi’s dark thoughts? it’s definitely work it.

KUSUO SAIKI, who immediately calls you after seeing a huge cockroach in the kitchen!!

“Kusuo, are you okay?!” you responded the call immediately, after seeing his alarming texts

“There’s a cock roach in the kitchen.”

“…”

not to mention you giggling in the background.

KUSUO SAIKI, who brings you to cafe dates, blessing you with his adorable face after taking a bite of coffee jelly! oh your cake is getting cold? no worries, you’ll bring home and heat it up later. for now let’s just have some very casual eye contact.

KUSUO SAIKI, who’s mother absolutely adores you, ohh her ku is growing up so fast!! she always invite you for dinner. if you decline she always makes sure you go home with a pot of food. sigh.. kusuo thinks he’s getting a headache already.

KUSUO SAIKI, who likes getting held when he’s overwhelmed. sometimes, the voices get too much for him and he just wants some love and care from his partner, maybe he’s going to rest his eyes for a little bit..

KUSUO SAIKI, who does not allow you two to go to bed angry. at first, if your angry, he’s approaches you slowly, as if your going to bite him anytime. he hugs you from behind, and rest his head on your neck, he’s giving you a choice to push him away or let him stay. eventually, you push the angry away, have a big ol’ smooch then cuddle on the couch, or on his bed.

however if it’s him who’s angry, ohhoho your in for a ride 💀. theres literally four levels of grief you have to get through.. 😭

KUSUO SAIKI, who would hit you with a basketball if he could, but he wouldn’t for two reasons. ☝️: he can’t control his powers, ✌️: he loves you, he wouldn’t say it but he definitely shows it. even if it means wanting to punch a wall after having an argument with you, it’s okay because he loves you 😊

[stardust9905]

To Echo: *mwah* *pat-pat*

Echo has always given me puppy vibes, and it’s entirely bc of his eyes. I mean, look at how big those irises are compared to the others! 🥺 🐶

[kquil]

REMUS LUPIN | NOT SO SECRET ADMIRER PRT.3

REQUEST : hii! i jus wanted to know if your remus lupin, “not so secret admirer” was gonna continue with more than two parts? i’m really enjoying the story 😽 ⏤requested by anon

TAGS. : casanova remus makes an appearance ; good news for reader ; date at the three broomsticks ; oversized sweater sharing moment ; remus is a gentleman ; most of the time ; he's so dreamy ; and flirty ; and a tease! ; you're too cute for him ; he thinks you're absolutely precious! ; lowkey idiots in love ; it's finally happening! ; you both have an effect on each other ; making it official hehe~ ; final part~

LENGTH : 1.8k

← PART ONE | PART TWO

Sirius whistles a sharp, short tune and wiggles his brows at Remus, “look over there, Moony~” Sirius sings as he gestures towards you from across the field, “your missus wants you to go over and give her a big ol’ smooch,”

“Shut up, Padfoot,” Remus laughs and playfully hits his best friend on the shoulder as he passes him on his way to you. He doesn’t care much for all the teasing; he’s been counting the days, and now, he’s counting his steps —the closer he gets to you, he starts to run. Remus doesn’t care if he looks stupid or overly eager, not when you’re smiling at him so beautifully; he wants to see you smiling from closer up. Just as he’s a few meters away, he hears you call out to him and his heart threatens to beat out of his chest. 

“I got top marks!” 

From where they were scattered around at the base of the ancient tree arching over the black lake, the Marauders eye their tall, love struck friend as he runs to you with, suddenly, open arms. 

“Looks as happy as a Niffler with all that treasure in his arms,” James laughs as their rambunctious group grins, snickering at the sight before them. Remus shouts in joy, his elation heard from across the field as he picks you up by the waist, only to pull you close moments later for a prolonged embrace. The sight warmed their hearts despite their determination in denying it. 

“He should really just kiss ‘er already,” Peter whines, his impatience drawing more snickers from two of his best friends. 

“You read my mind, Wormtail,” Sirius laughs, throwing his arm across his ratty friend’s shoulders, “wanna place your bets on when he’ll finally grow the balls to kiss ‘er?” all the boys share a wide grin and start placing their bets, Peter offering his treasured sweets, James, his full allowance for Hogsmeade weekend and Sirius, his recently concocted potion for a devious prank. 

“You sound like you’ve run a marathon to get here,” Remus throws his head back slightly, eyes shining with fondness as he lovingly caresses your warm cheek with the back of his hand. 

“I—” you take a moment to catch your breath, giggling briefly from your own embarrassment but the warmth ins chestnut-brown eyes calmed you down, “I thought you were in the library,”

Remus’ brows fly to his hairline from surprise as you hide your face in his sweater; a feeble attempt at sheltering away your sheepishness. You had been running about Hogwarts castle for him? The tall brunette doesn’t know whether he should laugh in good humour or kiss you stupid. 

The urge to kiss you was undeniable, however. Especially when you were being so adorable, hiding your sweet face in his chest like that. His long arms wrap around you, pressing you further into his warmth and comforting scent. The motion makes you sigh dreamily only to stutter when you feel a soft pair of lips press a kiss to the crown of your head. 

“Congratulations…” his soft, deep voice sends a shiver down your spine. The sentiment was whispered with such sincerity, it made you swoon. Only you were allowed to hear his praise and your entire form lifted like a weightless cloud. You felt floaty and light. You want him to praise you more, you want him to kiss you more too. The last time he kissed you was the day before your exam - it was torture waiting for your exam to get marked. But he made the wait worth it, “How about that date? Huh?” 

Pulling away, you tilt your chin to peer up at him with a timid flutter of your lashes, “I was promised a butterbeer too…” 

The mix of your mischief and undeniable cuteness had Remus’ heart racing a mile a second; he couldn’t help but release the tension in a short laugh, “you can have as many butterbeers as you want!”

Hogsmeade weekend couldn’t come sooner enough. However, as soon as the awaited date had arrived, your excitement was turned into dread. An entire afternoon spent with Remus. You can imagine yourself already making a mess of things and, knowing how clumsy you get when you’re nervous, you’re sure it isn’t long before you’re tripping over air and making a spectacle of yourself. 

“Easy there,” Remus coos at you softly when you jump in surprise from his sudden actions, “sorry about that but you were shaking like an autumn leaf, sweetheart,” he flashes you an apologetic smile before his expression melts into adoration at the sight of you in his oversized grandpa sweater, “is that better?”

You manage a timid nod, avoiding his beautiful eyes as you slip your arms into place, adoring the familiar comfort the warmth and smell of his sweater brought you. It was ridiculous. You were being ridiculous. This was Remus; he wouldn’t do anything to make you feel bad or embarrassed just because of a silly mistake. You peek up at him from beneath the cover of your lashes. He’s so tall and handsome and just so… perfect. A gentle giant, topped with messy brown hair, soft eyes and covered in mysterious, faded scars but remains ever kind. This is why you fell for him, why he has such an effect on your heart, why he has such a pull on your entire being. He is safety and comfort and love all moulded into the beautiful gentleman that he is. 

With a surge of bravery, you inch closer and closer to your Hogsmeade date’s side until you’re practically pressed into him. Remus smiles at you but tries to hide away his blushing cheeks by keeping his gaze forward as he leads you down the path to the Three Broomsticks. It isn’t until he feels your small, soft hand slip into his much larger one that he finally glances down at you. The two of you meet eyes once more before you’re hiding your embarrassment away by burrowing your face into his bicep. 

For the love of Merlin, could you stop being so lovable and precious?! Girls like you were his number one weakness — you were going to kill him at this rate!  

“If you keep at this cuteness act, I’ll have no choice but to wrap you up in my arms and run back to the castle so I can have you to myself forever, little dove,”

Was he just playing around or was he being serious?

You look up and stare into his eyes — you couldn’t quite tell… 

As promised Remus treated you to as many butterbeers as you wanted, not that you wanted much anyway. Not only that but the butterbeer does a good job of warming you up and you didn’t fancy having to take off Remus’ generously offered sweater so you’ll stick to your second butterbeer for now. 

“Are you sure you don’t want anymore? I did make a promise,” Remus urges gently but when you politely shake your head ‘no’ and wrap your arms around yourself to burrow your nose under the stretched out collar of his sweater, he instantly knew your reasoning. You make it so easy to fall in love with you, “Is there something else you’d like then? Maybe a dessert? I don’t feel like I’ve rewarded you enough for a job well done on that test,”

Without a moment’s hesitation, you blurt out, “Being with you is reward enough,”

…did you think he was joking when he told you his intentions on the way here? 

“I wasn’t joking, little dove,” he hears you softly hum in curiosity, asking him to elaborate, “I will keep you all to myself if you don’t stop being so adorable,”

“I-I don’t mean to—” he laughs at your flustered state and picks up your hand to kiss your knuckles. 

“I. Don’t. Care,” it was a threat but one that was lovingly spoken into your skin as he kept your hand raised to his lips. Your eyes meet his over the bumps and grooves of your knuckles. He was being very sincere. 

“…how—“ you hesitate, biting your lip and avoiding his eyes momentarily, “how about a compromise?…” bargaining for your freedom — this wasn’t something you expected the afternoon to turn into. Nevertheless, you’re willing to play along, bearing in mind the serious undertones of your conversation. 

“I’m listening,” he hums and he almost sounds like he’s purring; a familiar glint of mischief reflecting in his eyes as he focuses his gaze onto your hand. You watch as he admires the way his fingers interlock with yours, forming an intimate hold where his larger hand appears to devour your smaller one. He looks into your eyes again, a small prompt asking you to continue with the proposal. 

“How about we promise to see each other every day at lunch?”

“Not good enough,”

You nibble on your bottom lip and miss Remus’ lingering stare, “breakfast and lunch?”

“Still not good enough,” he’s smiling —no, he’s smirking at you. What happened to your gentle giant?! He’s supposed to be kind and sweet, not a tease! You’re dangerously close to having a heart attack and he’s showing no mercy!

“D-dinner too, then?”

“Your suggestions are not satisfactory,“ his words are that of a professional, “and I’m getting very impatient, my dear,” you’re speechless as he holds up your hand and rolls the long sleeve of his sweater down your arm, exposing your skin where he begins to pepper a light trail of kisses down. 

In between your flustered state and racing mind, you don’t know how your panic managed to translate your thoughts so articulately, “How could I possible work out a compromise with you then?!”

“You’re a smart girl, you know what I want,”

“No, I—”

“What I want is what you want…”

His words make you pause. For a moment, you can hear nothing but your racing heart pumping blood past your ears, see nothing but Remus’ smirking lips and piercing brown eyes, feel nothing but his lips on the skin of your arm, taste nothing but the lingering alcohol on your tongue. It takes one big inhale to muster up enough courage, furthered by your earlier two frothing tankards of butterbeer, “be my boyfriend then…” you sound like a shy but demanding, spoiled child. One that Remus would happily pamper to your heart’s content. 

“You’ve got yourself a deal, sweetheart,” his kind smile makes your heart race and an elated grin slowly grows on your lips before he’s leaning across the table at lightening speed, your hand still held captive in his, “Lets seal it with a kiss, shall we?”

You expected him to kiss your forehead. But no. No, this kiss was so much better. 

He tastes like chocolate and buttery, foaming beer.   

A/N : Goodness did this take a long time, im so sorry my darlings! i don’t know why i consistently kept getting writers block when it came to writing this fic. i think it’s partially to do with the fact that i never really intended to continue the original timestamp hehe~ nevertheless, it’s here and i hope you darlings enjoyed the read!

NAVI. 

TAGLIST : @melinajenkins @aastonishment @until-i-found-you @corp0real @celestcies @lovelydoveval @inlovewithremusjohnlupin @calums-betch @futurecorps3 @hihihi1112 @simpingforthe80s @yrluvjane @chaosofmanyfandoms @storyofaromance @loving-and-dreaming @somewereinthegalaxi @ashreblogsficshere @cassandra-nerezza-black @stray-bi-kids @ttkttt @notasadgirlipromise @desikudisworld @volturissideslut @arilxup88 @fallencrescentmoon @topaz125 @xxrougefangxx @starchaser-lily @probablypossesedbysatan @agent-tempest @veryberryjelly @th3-st4r-gur1 @sousydive @rosalyn-s @thelastbrainceliishere @littleshadow17 @b-i-h-i @babiely @nickkie99 @hehehhehexd @imdoingbetternow @regulusblacksposts @nicassie @lovelyygirl8 @onedaysoonyoullsee @jennieasfrance @onlyfredslibrary @soradragon @idli-dosa-reblogs @remusparkers

[bratbby333]

oh em GEEEE IMAGINE GAMER BF SUKUNA WANTING TO PLAY MINECRAFT W YOU BUT HES STUBBORN SO HE DOESNT ADMIT IT BUT YOU CATCH HIM PLAYING BY HIMSELF ON HIS OWN PC AND YOU TEASE HIM SAYING HE COULDVE JUST ASKED 💔💔💔💔💔

gamer!bf sukuna fluff—sfw !! cw: language. smau + blurb

with a quick kiss on your forehead, sukuna informs you he’s running competitive games on COD for a cash prize and emphasizes that he needs you to leave him alone so he can focus. god, he can be such a diva.

you’ve been curled up on the couch for an hour or so, aimlessly scrolling through your phone. sukuna is holed up in the office, most likely talking shit and being a menace online.

a brief yell echoes through your apartment, followed by a quick slam of his fists against his desk.

“im done with this shit,” he exclaims, most likely quitting the game he was in. it seems he didn’t win his competition.

you giggle to yourself, shaking your head. you find it amusing how angry he gets during his games. but, you do feel a bit bad that he lost, so you decide to invite him to a voice call on discord.

as you navigate to your private chat with him, you watch as his status changes from “playing COD” to…wait. that can’t be right…minecraft? no way. that’s impossible.

you give it 30 minutes to see if it was just an accidental click. when you check back, his status remains the same.

you smirk as you open up your messages, eager to see if he’ll confess.

you giggle to yourself as you stand from the couch, taking quick steps down the hall.

as you push open the office door, a cheeky grin can’t help but pull at your cheeks as you approach him.

you join him at the desk, taking a seat in front of your monitor. “you’re so stubborn, ya know that?”

“i told you not to speak of this ever again,” he muttered, aimlessly walking around minecraft as he waits for your computer to boot up.

“lemme just hear you say it,” you tease.

“say what?” he asks, turning to face you, a look of annoyance on his face at your adamance to continue this conversation.

“you like minecraft,” you replied simply, raising your eyebrows. “just admit it and i’ll never say another word.”

he stared at your for a minute, his jaw clenching and unclenching. with a heavy sigh, he turns back to his monitor, grumbling an almost inaudible, “i like minecraft,” with a roll of his eyes.

but it’s a lie. a dirty little secret. he doesn’t just like it, he loves it. he especially loves how happy you get when the two of you play together, as much as he tries to deny it.

the two of you spend the next three hours running around minecraft. sukuna is clearly enjoying himself, though you can tell he’s attempting to hide it with an abrupt clear of his throat or a quick cough to cover up his laughter.

a warm feeling spins around your stomach, giggling as you watch him fight back a persistent smile the entire time.

an: thank you for your request my sweet anon. this was adorable.

i really want to start doing smau’s ugh they’re just so cute and fun to make. i have a full-length fic coming up that incorporates them into the story!! this is my way of experimenting w that format…please let me know what you think! in a way, i feel like it makes the story more real.

thank you for all your support 🥺🫶🏼 i wanna give every single one of yall a big ole smooch on the forehead

my asks are always open. don’t be shy, drop a suggestion, send feedback, leave a request, or just come say hello! i love talking to yall 💛

likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated !!

bratbby333 on tumblr. all rights reserved. please do not distribute. 2024.

[luvvyouforever]

show me what you got - logan howlett {wolverine} x reader

synopsis: logan and reader very clearly want each other, but neither will make a move. a certain plan sets that in action.

content: NSFW! minors dni. yearning. horny. rambling. logan being nervous. afab reader.

a/n: i don't really know where i was going with this. i was also kinda picturing cartoon x men living situation here! def not very canon compliant. but enjoy!

his breath is hot, ragged, and full of expletives slipping between his lips with every thrust. sweat beads around his hairline, drips down his temple, and leaves the prettiest shine on his tan skin. his hair is tousled, he's shirtless, and his muscles are tense beneath his skin.

"oh my god, lift up your jaw. i know he's hot but you're gonna swallow flies that way, hun."

rogue's voice enters your dazed reverie and brings you back into the reality: a sweaty gym in the x-men mansion. logan, only twenty feet in front of you, pulls on the handles of a machine set to the highest weight possible that pulls him forward and backward. it's supposed to work out his back, or maybe his chest, or maybe his arms. either way, it's sinful and becoming increasingly difficult to tear your eyes away.

he continues to grunt on the machine and you wonder if he's doing it on purpose when rogue speaks up again. "you need to do something about this."

you let out a laugh that's just a bit too loud and draws some of the eyes of the other x-men working out. red heat crawls up your neck and to your cheeks where it settles into a blush. turning around to face the other side of the gym, you whisper, "and what exactly am i supposed to do here?"

"i don't know. corner him, give him a big ol' smooch, and the rest will be history," rogue pauses. "i think. i'm not the best person to ask here," she says with a gesture to her gloved hands.

when you feel the heat leave your face, you turn back around to see that logan had moved from the original offending machine to an even more intolerable workout: bench presses. with urgent movements, you take rogue over to the yoga mats and begin your own personalized workout, all the while she laughs at your obvious and ever-growing frustration.

𝜗𝜚

logan wonders what it would be like to be standing behind you, pressed dangerously close to your backside as you bend over and place yourself into some yoga position he never bothered to learn the name of. the workout clothes you're wearing have always got under his skin and he knows this time is no different. he barely thinks about the weight of the bar he's lifting up and down as he watches your body flex into a position that places your body in such a divine arch he wishes he could be drawing out of you.

"not you too," gambit's voice comes from behind logan where he uselessly spots him. suddenly, logan falters with his grip on the bar and rather than let it fall on top of him, he sends it to the other side of the bench, just a few feet from where scott was doing squats with some fancy weights logan never bothered with.

"what do you mean 'not you too?'" logan questions.

gambit shakes his head and sits on the bench next to the one they were currently working out on. he fiddles with a card he seemed to pull out of nowhere, but logan ignored it. "gambit means that you two need to find a closet and get it over with."

logan huffs and shakes his head. "i dunno what you're talking about, cajun."

his eyes float back to your frame on the other side of the gym. much to his chagrin, you stopped your own workout and stretching in favor of assisting rogue into a complex position that was sure to send gambit to her side once the workout had come to a close. the words 'not you too' floated through his head once more and he turned to interrogate gambit once more only to find him moving on to another set in front of the mirror.

with a final glance back to you, he found you looking at him as well. briefly, your eyes met each other across the room then immediately went to the floor, pretending that the specks of dust were unbelievably interesting.

𝜗𝜚

charles believed that despite the mutations and responsibilities and missions, it was important for the x-men to have some kind of normalcy which led to frequent movie nights or parties or game nights. more often than not, logan spent those inside or sitting in a chair directly away from the other x-men. there was no particular reason, he was just always like that. solitary.

unfortunately, something seemed to be different for this particular movie night. when he arrived to the home theater in the basement of the mansion, every single seat was taken by one of the other x-men. the only other person who hadn't arrived was you.

his eyes fell to the loveseat that was empty toward the back of the room, where rarely any light except for the screen fell. he could hear an almost undetectable giggle come from rogue on the other side of the room and he knew something was up. had these not been unspokenly required, he would have turned around with the excuse of...something.

just as he climbed the few short steps to the loveseat and sat down, you walked in. his breath hitched in his throat at the sight of you. a thin and old pajama top which hung off your shoulders at an angle adorned your top half while the bottom half was covered in pants that fell at your hips and hugged your legs as they went down. somehow this was worse than tight workout clothes.

just as he did, your eyes scanned the room for a seat before finding that the only one available was the other half of the loveseat that logan's body was currently occupying. without much thinking, your eyes flew to rogue who shrugged her shoulders despite you feeling as though this was planned.

with every inch you grew closer to being so close to logan, your heart rate increased, as did your nervousness. awkwardly, you sat down by him and could instantly feel the similar pulling in your chest that you felt when standing too close to him. the way his t-shirt hugged his chest and contoured to the fine muscles made you blink too fast.

once everyone was fully settled, charles put a movie on, something you didn't really remember the plot of, and with maximum effort, you kept your eyes glued to the screen.

logan did not have as easy of a time as you did. perhaps it was the way his senses were so increased from yours that you could barely keep still. it was either your thigh touching his own or your sweet smell infiltrating his nose or the way you couldn't hold your laughter at certain jokes in the movie which echoed through his ears into his mind. it was unbearable.

suddenly feeling eyes on him, his head whipped to the other side where gambit's eyes would flit to him every so often. when they made eye contact, gambit's eyebrow raised, which suggested the question to logan, "so?"

he shook his head to which gambit smiled, tilted his head to signal to your body next to his, and made some obscene gesture that had rogue smacking his hands down to his lap. logan sighed, shook his head, and returned his gaze back to the movie. he couldn't ignore it this time.

𝜗𝜚

once the movie ended, everyone retreated back to their respective spaces, except logan who lingered around the mansion. going back to his bedroom didn't feel favorable. after spending so long alive, chasing after what he wanted, he felt stupid letting you continue to walk past him, in the clothes that made him frustrated with a personality that melted his heart. he didn't want to go back into his bedroom where he would more than likely jerk off to thoughts of you so perfect they could become painful. he would have a dream about you, wake up wondering if today is the day he kisses you finally, then look at you at the breakfast table and know that this wasn't the day.

before he could stop his own body, his legs took him up the stairs toward your bedroom at the end of the hallway.

you hadn't been doing anything after the movie except for thinking of the way your thigh was touching logan's and his breath was deep and he was warm and a strong presence next to your frame. with nothing on but a yellow lamp, you reached over to your bedside drawer before a knock echoed through the room.

with a huff, you rose up and went over to the door. when you opened up, you could've jumped back in surprise at the figure on the other side of the door. logan was standing in the same t-shirt and sweatpants as earlier, but this time he looked slightly disheveled, like he had been running his hands through his hair.

"hey, logan," you said hesitantly.

suddenly, he regretted coming to your door. it wasn't that he didn't want you, but having you in front of him with your smell invading his nose and your cheeks flushed and your hair messy from laying down was intoxicating.

"hey," was all he said.

the air was awkward and tense. logan's chest heaved up and down from his attempts to steady his breathing. absentmindedly, you played with a thread at the hem of your top.

"did you...need something?" you asked.

"can i come in?" he blurted out.

you nodded, held the door wide open, and scooted to the side of it. he stepped over the threshold, carefully avoiding anything he might knock over or ruin. for him, it seemed, one wrong step could lead to your entire room coming down in one fell swoop.

as if being in your presence was not difficult enough, being in your room was a trial. everything was so you. your clothes to the left of him, your posters to the right. your perfume and body wash lingering in the air. his eyes didn't know where to go so they landed on you in front of him.

"so, uh...did you like the movie tonight?" you asked in an attempt to make conversation. he shifted on his feet. "oh, come here. you can sit down if you wanna." your hand gestured for him to follow you to your bed. despite his brain telling him not to go, his legs moved and then he found himself sitting on your bed, looking down at you.

he blinked, suddenly forgetting your question. what was he going to do here? he came with no purpose, no plan, no intention. obviously he couldn't kiss you right there. he couldn't push you down and run his hands along the sides of your body like he dreamed about for so long. no matter how bad he wanted to be between your legs, using his mouth to draw pretty moans out of you and bring your back up from the bed, and hear his name tumble out of your mouth like a prayer-

"logan?" his head snapped to you. the corners of your lips were upturned into a half smile. "did you hear me?"

"no, sorry. what'd you say?" he asked.

with an almost imperceptible scoot closer to him, you looked up into his brown eyes. there was something in yours that he felt resembled desire, but it couldn't be. there was no way you were having those similar dirty thoughts to him.

"i asked if you came here to kiss me."

his heart could've slipped out from its cavity, down through his stomach, and out through his ass.

"because if so, then you might want to go ahead and do it because it's almost time for me to go to bed."

logan didn't have to hear many more words over that. his hands flew to your sides like he had wanted them to for months. with uncharacteristic gentless, he guided you to lay down on the bed. a smile grew on your lips at his closeness and his touch. yes, this was much better than your original plans for the night.

"so, you've been thinking about me too?" logan asked, just a few inches from your lips.

the blush that he so often thought about in his dreams crept back to your cheeks. "of course i have. i was just waiting on you to take charge," you teased. your hand made its way to his chest where it rubbed along the skin, then up to his neck where it rested carefully, right over his pulse point. you could feel it pick up when your other hand made contact with his waist.

logan chuckled at that. "and to think i was gonna go spend the rest of the night in my bedroom after being so unbearably close to you all night."

"i'm glad you came over finally," you said. after a pause, "i think rogue and gambit might've been getting tired of this too."

"they're about to get a lot more tired of us when i'm done with you tonight." with that, logan's lips came down to yours where they met in a crushing kiss. it was messy, but conveyed the months of ache and yearning for each other. teeth clashed at moments, and only when the annoying need to breathe came forward did you pull apart.

"show me what you got, howlett," you said in response to his earlier comment after taking a breath.

in seconds, logan had his tight t-shirt off, along with his sweatpants. everything that had once been scandalous to watch from a distance was now in your hand. perhaps the whole loveseat plan, no matter the annoyance it brought on originally, was an ingenious idea.

𝜗𝜚

[dr-spectre]

This might be the cutest thing I've ever seen in my entire life.

I just... I just... I... AHHHH!!!!

EHEHEHEHEHE!!!! CALLIEEEE!!! MARIEEEE!!!! SQUID SISTERS EHEHEHEHEHE!!!!!!!!!

MWAH! MWAH! MWAHHHHHH!!!!!! SO CUTEEE EHEHEHEHEHEHEHE!!!!!!! I WANNA PINCH YOUR CHUBBY CHEEKS YOU FRIGGEN SQUIDS!!!!!

OH I WANNA RUSTLE YOUR PRETTY HEADS!!!! I wanna give you both big ol smooches!!!! I wanna hug you girls so BADLY!!!!!! AHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!

.......

....I'm sorry y'all.... The uh... the brainrot got to me and it took over..... it's gonna happen again... I'm scared....

[loaksky]

— 𝘪𝘯 𝘧𝘶𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘮

the deets — lo'ak is the black sheep in the family, clinging to honor by a precarious thread. you are the well-loved songstress in the tribe. he should resent you for being everything he's not, but his fickle heart can't bring him to do so.

the who — lo'ak x fem omatikaya!reader

the word count — 10.2k (rip yall)

the tags — (one-sided) rivals-to-lovers, angsty angsty, hurt / comfort, reader gives lo'ak a big ol smooch (perhaps more than one), lo’ak is the biggest dumbass and because of this he’s mean asf, reader has a big ol heart and just really wants lo’ak to like her, aged!up characters for maturity’s sake. 

the warnings — language, lo'ak is in luv but doesn't realize it, he's in denial that the feelings could be reciprocated, this is super dramatic so put your seat belts on!

the notes — was feeling extra sad and wanted to write something self-indulgent. this lovely anon requested something, and i used their ask as inspiration to finish this beast. fine line, bags, and love in dark are the three main songs i listened to finish this, so if you wanna be in your feels, have a listen LMAO. despite all the support, i’m still so mf nervous posting this ejsjsjdjs

masterlist

SOMETHING UGLY KINDLES IN THE PIT of Lo'ak's stomach at the mere mention of your name. It's sour on his tongue, bitter in his brain. He doesn't know when he's started to feel like this, started to feel absolutely dreadful anytime he'd hear the timbre of your voice. 

It's warm, thick like nectar and it makes him sick. 

Ever since you all were little, the elders crooned over what a great girl you were growing into; strong, intelligent, beautiful. It made him boil how much they'd sing your praises, the high esteem everyone held you in as one of the clan's most talented. 

Something dull would pick at him being compared to his older brother, but nothing burned more than being compared to you. 

Maybe it's because it's always implied whenever your names share the same sentences, that lingering implication that he could be more like you. The clan fans the flames of your mere existence while Lo'ak is snuffed out like a dying fire. 

He hates it. He hates you. 

He thinks. 

It'd be easier to, if you were awful behind the scenes. Arrogant, stuck up, but you're none of those things. You're kind, gentle, mighty when you need to be. It doesn't help that you shine like the brightest star, engulfing everyone in your light, in your warmth. 

But Lo'ak resists. He sees right through you, sees right through every saccharine smile you send him. He can see it in your eyes, how you really see him. Despite standing a full head taller than you, he sees the way you look down your nose at him. 

It grates his nerves, how disgustingly sweet you are towards him despite all attempts to rebuff you. 

Certainly doesn’t soothe his ego when you always seem to be around the bend every time he gets bitched at by the clan, eyes soft and filled with pity. To add insult to injury, you frequently tail him like a shadow after these moments when all he wants is to be alone. 

Like now, you linger. 

It's after dinner and Kiri and Spider stand before him. They come together like the three points of a triangle and you stand an awkward distance away from them. 

Kiri notices you first, her face splitting into a big smile as she waves you over. 

Lo'ak breathes a deep sigh before locking eyes with Spider who tries his best to suppress an amused grin. 

“Hi,” you chirp and Lo'ak can't help but roll his eyes. 

Spider and Kiri greet you eagerly. Lo'ak simply nods his head in acknowledgement before tightening his fist around his dagger. 

“We going or what?” he finally says. 

You perk up. 

“Where are you guys heading off to?” you ask curiously, hands clasped behind your back.

Spider opens his mouth to answer, but Lo'ak cuts him off quickly. 

“No where important,” he says, unsure if you'll blab about their whereabouts to the elders, or worse, his parents. 

You roll your lips and shift on your feet. 

“Can I come?” you ask hesitantly, eyes hopeful. 

Kiri's smile grows as she links her arm with yours. 

“No,” he says sharply. “Absolutely not.” 

Your face falls and something pulls inside his chest when you fail meet his gaze, your frown barely perceptible. 

You make a move to pull from Kiri's grasp, but her arm tightens through yours. She levels Lo'ak with a weighty glare and you fidget uncomfortably under his narrowed eyes. 

“Don't worry about it,” you say, like someone's hit a reset button. You smile that pretty smile and Lo'ak wants to scream. "It's okay, I think Rutan needs help with clean up." 

You slip from Kiri's grasp and the three watch you walk off. 

“Do you always have to be such a bitch?” Spider scoffs a disbelieving laugh. 

“She's just gonna tag along so she can snitch,” Lo'ak grumbles. 

“Oh c'mon,” Kiri argues. “________ just wants friends.”

Lo'ak sneers. 

“I don't want to be friends with her,” he says firmly, knuckles white around the handle of his knife.

“Weirdo,” Spider mumbles. “She’s cute. Think she likes you.”

Lo'ak's spine stiffens.

“It's an act” Lo'ak grumbles. “She just wants to look good in front of the elders to keep up whatever nice girl show she's putting on.” 

Kiri rolls her eyes hard. 

There are moments when Lo'ak thinks he's being harsh, but he can't help himself. It's like he loses all semblance of a filter when it comes to you. 

“Hi, Lo'ak,” you greet him sweetly, lowering yourself onto the fallen log he's perched on, fashioning arrows to practice with later on in the evening with Neteyam. 

He shifts away from you, putting the distance of two bodies between the two of you as he pauses his task at hand. 

“Hi,” he says flatly. 

“Can I help?” you ask tentatively, fingers twitching towards one of the untouched sticks in a pile next to his feet. 

His kicks them closer to himself, out of your reach before leveling you with a sharp glare. 

“No thanks,” he says quickly and you recoil slowly, letting out a shaky laugh before fixing that stupid smile on your pretty face. 

“Oh, sorry,” you apologize, straightening in your seat. 

A silence so uncomfortably palpable settles over the two of you as you shift so that your knees are turned towards him. 

His throat bobs when his gaze travels from your little toes all the way up to your inquisitive gaze, golden and searching. It makes something unruly settle in his gut and he turns his attention back to carving his arrows. 

“Do you need something?” he breaks the silence finally. “I'm kinda busy.”

You bite your lip before scooting a little closer to Lo'ak's hunched figure. 

“My birthday's coming up,” you start. 

“I'm aware,” Lo'ak almost scoffs. 

It's all the clan has been able to talk about for the past few days. How they'd be able to prepare for the golden girl's next birth cycle and what they'd be able to do to make you smile the brightest. 

“Your birthday is a week before,” you state and his head whips towards you. 

“How do you know that?” he asks sharply, accusation heavy in his gruff tone. 

You flinch and he falters for a moment before your smile simply widens. 

“We grew up together, Lo'ak,” you say and the way his name sounds from your mouth sounds absolutely heavenly. “You're my friend.”

Friend. 

He scowls at the term.

“We're not friends,” he bites back. 

If the statement bothers you, you don't show it, simply tucking a strand of hair behind your ear before putting on a brave face. 

“I want to celebrate with you,” you say shyly. 

“Hard pass,” he says too quickly, gathering his sticks and fashioned arrows under his grasp. 

He leaves you in the clearing on your own.

You must be fucking with him. You have to be. It'd be the only explanation for why Jake pulls him aside a few nights later and tells him that you've requested to work with him and Neteyam during archery practice. 

“No,” he says stiffly, shaking his head. 

His dad levels him with a hard glare and Lo'ak sighs deeply. 

“She's a nuisance, Dad,” he argues. “Me and Neteyam are making good progress with our training and we'll have to start at square one if she joins.”

“Lo'ak, this isn't an ask,” Jake says sternly. 

“But, Dad!”

“Lo'ak.”

Lo'ak huffs, snatching his bow and quiver angrily before storming off. 

“You're doing great,” Neteyam says to you once the three of you have convened in the training circle. 

The three arrows you've shot have all landed within centimeters of the mark and to say that Neteyam is impressed is an understatement. Lo'ak, on the other hand, fumes not-so-silently as he tears his arrows from his target. 

Yet again, you have another person wrapped around your finger and it makes his blood simmer as he assumes his position at the marker and loads his arrow. It splinters through the air and hits the target right on the bullseye. The arrow punctures through the hide and lodges its way into the wood from the sheer force of Lo’ak’s shot. 

You start at him moon-eyed, lush lips breaking into a full smile. 

“Perfect shot,” you observe. “That was awesome.” 

Lo’ak scans your features hesitantly before his gaze flits to his older brother, waiting for any acknowledgment that he’d done a great job, but Neteyam is taking notes on the arrows still stuck in the fabric of your own target. 

His heart sinks. 

“Fuck this,” Lo’ak grumbles, bundling all of his belongings.

He stalks through the clearing, past his brother, to leave you two. 

He doesn’t know what fuels the fire more, the fact that Neteyam didn’t even bat an eye at the feat they’d been practicing for for the past three weeks because he was too immersed in you, or the fact that you bore witness to his first clean shot and gave him that sickeningly sweet smile that made his stomach turn. 

“Where are you going?” Neteyam sighs. 

“Somewhere you two aren’t,” he grumbles under his breath, ducking through the brush of the lofty forest. 

You lick your lips, locking eyes with Neteyam as you give him a bashful grin and slowly break away to follow Lo’ak’s path. 

He isn’t far ahead as you push through the vines and low-hanging leaves, the path lined with large plants and the spindly roots of the looming trees. The grass is plush between your toes as you scamper to follow Lo’ak from a distance, watching as his lithe body climbs through the dense flora. 

“Why are you following me?” he calls after a few dozen paces, stopping in the middle of the path to whirl on his heel. 

His golden eyes are syrupy, warm despite the edge, and you can’t help but flash him your pearly whites in a genuine smile that takes up your dimpled cheeks. 

“Why’d you run off?” you ask him. “You were doing so well!” 

His chest rises and falls with a scoff. 

“You can give it a rest, you know?” Lo’ak says flatly, fist so tight around his bow he feels like he’ll crush the wood. 

Your expression morphs, eyebrows furrowing in a way that makes Lo’ak throat bob, something pinching behind his ribcage. 

“What?” you ask, frown marring your pretty face. 

“I don’t know what you’re playing at, but you can stop acting like you wanna be friends with me,” Lo’ak says matter-of-factly. 

“You are my friend,” you protest quietly. 

Lo’ak rolls his eyes. 

“Dude, whatever,” he mutters, turning his back on you. 

“Is it so wrong?” you murmur and he stops in his tracks, refusing to meet your gaze. “To be friends?” 

Friends. 

That stupid fucking word again.

Lo’ak bites his tongue and stalks off, leaving you on the path. 

Neteyam rips him a new one when he sees him at dinner later that night. Lo’ak hangs his head as Neteyam digs in.

“Is it so hard to be nice?” Neteyam asks, hand squeezing his shoulder as they stand a handful of meters away from the main circle. 

As his eyes wander, he notices you sitting with his sister, head thrown back in laughter that glitters and wafts with the rising smoke of the fire. He swallows turning his attention back to his older brother. 

“Just don’t like her,” he admits. “I want her to leave me alone.” 

“You don’t like her or you like her too much?” Neteyam asks, brow bone raised. 

Lo’ak’s face scrunches.

“Ew, no,” he blurts. “Why would I—”

“________ just wants to fit in,” he sighs. “She has trouble making friends.” 

“Yeah, I wonder why,” Lo’ak mocks. “I don’t know why Kiri and Spider are always up her ass, she’s—”

“Lo’ak,” Neteyam warns. 

“Dude, everyone is always ________ this, _________ that! I don’t understand what’s so great about her—”

A throat clears and the brothers both turn their attention to the newcomer. Lo’ak could groan in frustration seeing that you’ve abandoned your seat and now stand nearby with two wooden plates. 

“They’re going to start cleaning up soon,” you say hesitantly. “Wanted to bring you some.” 

Neteyam takes it graciously from you, nodding his head in thanks while Lo’ak stares down at the plate you’d arranged for him, abundant in vegetables and thick cuts of meat. 

“No thanks,” he says flatly.

You try to coax him. 

“C’mon Lo’ak, you say gently. “I know you haven’t eaten yet.” 

“No thanks,” he repeats stonily, holding his hand up. 

You offer up the plate again. 

“Lo’ak–“ 

“I said no thank you,” he grunts, annoyed. 

He’d only meant to push it back towards you, but one second it’s in your hands, the next you’re wearing dinner, the plate clattering onto the ground. 

“Lo’ak!” Neteyam scolds. 

“Shit, I didn’t–”

“It’s fine,” you breathe an airy laugh and Lo’ak freezes when he hears your breath hitch. “It was an accident.” 

“Oh, ________…” Neteyam sighs, but you’re picking up the plate and scurrying off, ignoring the nearby snickering. 

“Whatever you got going on, you need to cool it,” Jake scolds him in the family tent after dinner that night. “________ is a good girl, she’s trying to find her place. Can’t really do that if you’re gonna be a jerk to her all the time.” 

Lo’ak resists the urge to roll his eyes because, yet again, someone is sticking up for you, admonishing him about how he could be nicer, how he could take you under his wing, how he–

“What about me?” Lo’ak argues. “I tell her to leave me alone all the time, but she doesn’t listen. Why do I have to be nice to someone who doesn’t respect–”

“Cut the bullshit,” Jake thunders. “You haven’t even tried being her friend.” 

“Why should I?” Lo’ak counters. 

“Because maybe you two are more alike than you’d care to learn,” Jake says knowingly. “Now go apologize.” 

“Dad!” 

“Go, Lo’ak.” 

Lo’ak sucks in a deep breath before squeezing his eyes shut and blowing out through his nose. 

“Fine, fine, whatever,” he grumbles, ducking from the tent into the humid night air. 

He starts into the jungle, fingers brushing over the leaves and petals of the plants and flowers. He takes the moment to regulate his pounding heart in his chest before trying to wrack his brain for any words that he could scrounge into a believable apology. 

When he crosses the glowing waters of a skinny brook, something rustles nearby and his hand is on the hilt of his dagger in the blink of an eye. 

He turns to face the noise, knife drawn, but then you emerge and his body relaxes a fraction. 

“Fuck, ________, you scared me,” he sighs in relief. 

You fidget and swallow down the lump in your throat. 

“Sorry,” you say sheepishly. 

A brief silence dawns the two of you and Lo’ak notes that you’ve cleaned up from the evening meal’s debacle, now wearing a longer loincloth threaded with round pearlescent beads that refract the luminescence of the surrounding forest. 

Your grasp tightens around a leather bound journal and for a moment, he wonders what you could be writing about. 

When you follow his gaze, you shyly tuck the journal behind your back and give him an uneasy smile. 

“I wanted to–”

“I came to–”

Your words clash and you breathe a little laugh through your nose as you gaze at him with brilliant eyes. You start closing the distance and Lo’ak’s hands grow clammy. 

“You first,” you offer. 

Whatever threads of an apology he’d crafted in the moments prior have evaporated now that you stand before him, absolutely glowing. 

“Lo’ak?” Your head tilts and his cheeks warm. 

“Sorry,” he says hoarsely. “For what happened at dinner.” 

You shake your head quickly. 

“You don’t have to apologize,” you assure him, reaching out to touch him. 

He recoils, clearing his throat as he retreats to put an ample amount of distance between the two of you. 

You eye the berth and something shutters across your face as you rock back on your heels and flash him another uneasy smile. 

You haven’t even tried being her friend, his dad’s words echo like a call in the night. Maybe you two are more alike that you care to learn. 

Were you? You and Lo’ak were as different as they come, you molded by the love and adoration of the clan, him built up by the lessons and lectures he received from his parents and Neteyam. 

“Where are you going?” you ask, blowing by the previous conversation. 

He shrugs. 

“Dunno,” he admits. “I was looking for you.” 

The way you freeze is almost covert, your lips rolling as you try to hide the smile threatening to split your face. 

“Oh,” you hum. “Wanna go for a walk?” 

No, he wants to say. He absolutely does not want to spend anymore time with you than he has to. Likes to believe that he wouldn’t even bat an eye if he were to never see you again, but you’re looking at him expectantly and his dad’s words are like a mantra in his head, so he agrees begrudgingly. 

It’s awkward at first, silent except for the natural soundtrack of the vicarious jungle. But like you do so well, you break the silence and Lo’ak has to resist rolling his eyes for the third time that night. 

“What are your favorite colors?” you ask suddenly. 

“I dunno, green?” he offers. 

“Are you sure?” you laugh quietly. 

Lo’ak thinks a moment before nodding his head. 

“Yeah, green,” he finalizes. “And blue.” 

He barely notices that you’d fallen behind, and when he turns to look over his shoulder, he sees that you’re scratching something into your little journal. 

“And your favorite fruit?” you press, nose still between the pages. 

Lo’ak breathes out a laugh and your head shoots up. 

“What? You gonna send this list to the lab?” Lo’ak asks.

You give him a shy smile, shifting on your feet. 

“No,” you say softly, then whisper to yourself, “just compiling a list to win your heart.” 

Lo’ak barely hears you, ears twitching as his eyes narrow in confusion. 

“What?” he asks. 

You snap your notebook shut, shaking your head quickly as you pad through the grass to catch up to him. 

“Nothing.” 

Something ripples in the fabric after that night, you and Neteyam both notice when Lo’ak enters the training clearing the next afternoon and greets you with a nod instead of flat out ignoring your presence like he had the last training session. 

And you think that the moment is fleeting, a one off, but as the days progress, you realize that maybe Lo’ak is finally softening around you. 

He stays for entire lessons, the most minute of smiles twitching at his lips whenever you compliment his shots. He waits near the edge for you as you pack up your things, and while the walk back to the village is a quiet one, you bask in his company, triumphant when he doesn’t run off. 

And while your evening walks are few and far between, you savor the moments he affords you, wedging yourself between him the crumbling walls of his facade. 

Tonight is one of those moments, sitting on adjacent branches overlooking the lively forest, when Lo’ak lets you peek farther into his life than he’d originally intended. 

“He never understands,” he sighs, popping a few berries from his satchel past his lips. 

Tonight’s topic is his father and you listen intently, eyes fixed on the way he reclines on the branch and looks up at the stars. 

“I try hard, you know? To make everyone proud, but all they see is my failure,” he says, obviously annoyed. “No matter what I do, it’s not good enough.” 

“You do great things, Lo’ak,” you say quietly, the first words you’ve said all night. 

And like your voice is a reminder, Lo’ak’s spine goes rigid, throat bobbing as he realizes that he may have said too much to you. He’s getting too comfortable and you’re all the willing to absorb every insecurity and every worry he has. 

But something about quiet moments like these makes him loose-lipped, eyes fluttering to where you’ve got your notebook balanced in the seam of your thighs, scrawling something on the pages as you eat your own berries. 

The words are leaving him before he can stop them. 

“Easy for you to say,” he murmurs. “You’re perfect.” 

The laugh that escapes you startles him and a few of the berries he was about to devour slips from his fingers and plunk down the leaves.

“I’m not perfect,” you assure him. 

“Only someone who’s perfect would say that,” Lo’ak grumbles, peering over the edge of the branches to spot his fallen fruit. “The whole village loves you, everyone’s always so ready to bat for you.” 

You look down at the pages of your journal with a sad smile. 

“It’s a lot of pressure,” you admit quietly. “Everyone’s watching your every move, waiting for you to mess up.” 

Lo’ak shifts uncomfortably.

You continue. 

“And most of the villagers our age don’t like me,” you say, thumbing one of the pages. “They say I kiss ass, that I’m always trying to keep a leg up.” 

Lo’ak winces, knowing that he’s the source of at least one of those sentiments. 

“The elders think you’re honorable,” Lo’ak argues gently. “You’re talented, you have something to offer the people.” 

“Honor means nothing if you’re bound by it,” you say finally, closing the cover to your journal. “If anything, I want to be more like you.” 

“Like me?” Lo’ak asks incredulously, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. 

You nod, smiling at him. 

“Yeah,” you whisper. “I think you’re brave, fearless. And even if you care what people think, you do what you want.”

Lo’ak is quiet, taken aback by your confession.

Before he can respond, you’re gathering your things, bidding him a warm farewell as you begin climbing down the tree to disappear into the night. 

After that night, you think that maybe you’re just imagining things, that you’re reading too much into the fact that Lo’ak has begun to finally act like you exist, but then Kiri says something and the hope sends your heart soaring. 

“Seems like he finally got his head out of his ass,” she says a few mornings later as you two stand near a shallow stream, eyes peeled for any fish you two could bring back to the village. 

“Think so?” you ask nervously, arrow trapping the flailing fish to the pebbles of the stream’s bed. 

Kiri shrugs. 

“He actually pays you mind now,” Kiri observes. “That’s a step up for sure. I think you just need to spend more time with him.” 

You smile, splashing through shallow waters to capture the fish and add it to the growing pile in the basket between you and the middle Sully. 

“Yeah?” you wonder

So you test the theory, basket filled with various peeled fruits and a little container of nectar you squeezed from the petals of a flower. 

It doesn’t take long to hunt him down. When you enter the training circle, he’s packing up his things, quiver strapped to his back and bow in his fist. 

Before you make yourself known, he’s turning on his heel to face you, eyes wild as he swallows down the lump in his throat. 

He’d be the last to admit that the last night you two spent together was branded in his brain, that his mouth had dried up so much so he felt his tongue could crack.

There were so many implications in your words and it horrified him, scared him so much that he knew he couldn’t let you that close again. 

But now you stand before him, pretty as can be, hopeful even, and he’s at a war with himself, absolutely caught between resenting you for being everything he’s not and giving into the draw. 

“Hi,” you greet, basket heavy in your hands. 

You look more radiant than usual, skirt brushing the forest floor, the woven vine of your top banded to expose your midriff. 

“Hey,” he replies hesitantly. 

“Where you going?” you ask curiously.

His throat bobs as he gestures behind him. 

“Hunting,” is all he says.

“Do you want to go for a walk?” you ask eagerly.

He doesn’t. He shouldn’t. Because things are shifting and he’s not sure if he’ll be able to stomach the change. If he’ll be able to admit to himself that you’re wearing him thin, that you make him feel things he’s never felt before and that it makes him feel like he has no control. 

Because when it boils down to it, you make him lose control, make him lose his filter, and make him feel every emotion twice as hard. 

“No,” he says.

And in that moment, you feel like you’re back at square one, watching as his eyes turn stony and his jaw sets firmly. 

“You shouldn’t go hunting on your own,” you say softly. “Will someone be with you?” 

“It’s fine,” he argues. “I’m fine.” 

“I can go with you!” you offer. “I thought maybe we could sit by the stream and talk, but we can go hunting instead. We can–” 

“No,” he says again, pinning you with eyes so lethal, it makes you wonder if you really had imagined the moments you shared with him, if you had imagined Kiri telling you that she saw it too. 

You try again anyways. 

“It’ll be good practice and–”

“I said no, ________,” he barks. “You’re dead weight and I want to be alone.” 

Your lips seal and you bite the inside of your cheek. 

Lo’ak could nearly scream in frustration when he notices the way your shoulders sag and it makes something in his heart cinch. 

“Okay,” you agree, nodding quickly. “Be safe and–”

The words die on your tongue when you notice the look of annoyance on Lo’ak’s face. 

Lo’ak is in deep shit, you come to find out hours later. 

You sit outside of the training circle, knowing that Lo’ak will return down the path after his hunting trip. What you don’t expect, however, is Jake and Neytiri emerging with the entire line of Sully kids and Spider.

Jake grips the back of Lo’ak’s neck tightly as they march past wandering eyes, straight to the family tent. You don’t miss his wounds though, varying in depth, some bleeding, some sore. 

You’re hot on their heels, standing right outside of the entrance as Jake tears into the middle Sully. 

“Time and time again, I have to get on your ass for doing the complete opposite of what I ask you to do!” Jake’s voice is thunderous inside the tent. “Do you not realize that you not only risked your life but your sisters’ too?”

There’s a beat of silence before Jake continues, obviously pacing from the way his volume fluctuates. 

“And what were you thinking bringing Tuk? She’s nine, Lo’ak!” he shouts, the anger and the hurt evident in his tone. 

“I’m sorry,” Lo’ak mumbles. 

“Yeah, I bet you are!” Jake scolds. “I don’t ask for much. All I want is for you stay in line. Just stay out of trouble and work hard on your training. I paired you with ________ and Neteyam in hopes that maybe you’ll tighten up and be more like them, but you’re always disappointing me.” 

You frown. 

Whatever Lo’ak had done probably didn’t warrant such deep admonishment and something tugs especially hard at your heartstrings knowing that all he wants to do is make his dad proud. 

“You’re surrounded by good influences, but you always have to go against the grain, Lo’ak,” Jake says, the edge in his tone softening. “I’m getting tired of the bullshit, son. You need to clean up your act. Hear me?” 

“Yes sir,” Lo’ak says quietly, voice almost a whisper behind the hide of the tent. 

“Now go get yourself cleaned up,” Jake huffs. 

Your spine is straightening when you hear foot steps closing in, holding your breath as the flap to the tent billows open and Lo’ak is emerging.

His eyes flit to yours and his expression sours further. 

“Lo’ak,” you murmur, reaching out to him. 

He’s shrugging you away, wincing when a wound on his shoulder stretches especially taut. 

“You’re hurt,” you say quietly. “I’ll–”

“Leave me alone,” he says, eerily level. 

“But you’re–”

“I said leave me alone, ________,” he warns, pushing past you in what should be the pursuit of his grandmother’s quarters.

Instead he’s making a beeline for the jungle. 

You’d seen the look in his eye before he stonewalled you, seen the hurt and heaviness that most people didn’t seem to notice because he was always so adventurous and carefree. 

You follow after him. 

“Lo’ak, you know he’s only worried for you,” you try to reason gently, fingers reaching for his own as you duck under massive leaves and fluttering insects. 

He whirls to face you, swatting your hand away. 

“Don’t fucking touch me,” he bites. “You don’t know anything.” 

You swallow, holding your hand to your chest as you watch him lay down every brick to wall himself off. 

He hates it. He hates how you look at him, how you seem to pity the life he has to live. It makes him sick, thinking that you two have it the same. He’d rather be hated for being great than hated for being a let down. It’s insulting, how you think you know how it feels. 

“Let’s go back. I’ll wrap your wounds and–”

“Of course, clan’s golden girl is gonna patch me up and make it all better, huh?” he seethes facetiously. “Just fuck off!” 

You flinch, blinking at the boy you holds so much rage in front of you. 

“I know you’re hurting, but you don’t have to be mean,” you whisper, taking in a shuddering breath to will yourself not to cry. 

“Mean? Mean?” Lo’ak bristles. “I’ve tried telling you to lay off nicely, tried telling you to just leave me alone, but you don’t listen. You just pry and overstep and you make every little thing about you! Oh, it’s so much pressure, villagers our age hate me, of course they would! You already have everything and just have to go rub salt in the wound!” 

You shrink, eyes welling as your lip trembles. 

“Lo’ak, stop,” you whimper. 

“We’re not friends, ________.We never were and we never will because I don’t like you,” he spits. “Now please, for the love of god, will you just leave me alone!” 

The forest is silent save for Lo’ak’s ragged breathing, fists clenched as he glares down at you. 

“I-” Your breath hitches and you choke out an apology. “I’m sorry.” 

Lo’ak’s heart softens a fraction as you take a step back, turning quickly on your heel. 

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” you rasp, tripping over your own feet as you stumble into a run, putting as much space as you can between you and the middle child who stands in the middle of the forest, unable to wrangle every harsh word he’d said to force back down his throat. 

You dropped your journal. 

Lo’ak is sure you’re looking for it, know that you’ve always got your nose stuck in it. You had dropped it running off and now he has its leather bound in his hands. 

It’s been a couple of nights since the faithful evening he’d blown his top and he’d only seen whispers of you. It was so unlike you to disappear, to not be entertaining the masses as they fell to your feet. 

He’d cooled off significantly, and when he replayed the conversation in his head, he winced, body folding in on itself as he realizes how harsh he’d been. 

“Are you actually thinking thoughts?” Spider claps him on the shoulder, startling him so badly he drops the journal. 

It lands spine down, the pages fluttering open. 

He chances a peek before Spider is rounding his lithe figure to pick up the notebook. All he makes out is a rough sketch. 

“You write?” Spider asks, intrigued. 

“No, it’s ________’s,” Lo’ak answers. 

“Oh, your little girlfriend’s?” 

Lo’ak gives the human a cross look, snatching the book from his grasp as he stands up.

“Trouble in paradise?” Spider pries, scurrying to keep up with Lo’ak’s long strides. 

A beat of silence before Lo’ak finally answers. 

“Made her cry,” he mumbles, embarrassed. 

Spider winces behind him. 

“You serious?” 

Lo’ak sighs. 

“Yes, dude, fuck,” he breathes, hand coming to the back of his neck. “I don’t know what came over me. Dad was ripping me a new one and Neteyam already chewed me out before they got there and she was being annoying, so I just…” 

“Bro,” Spider scoffs in disbelief, scratching the back of his head. “You’re a real dickhead sometimes.” 

Lo’ak’s eyes wander as he shifts uncomfortably, feeling incredibly small as his friend glares up at him. 

“I mean, I told her I wanted to be left alone!” Lo’ak tries to defend weakly. “I- I didn’t mean to.” 

“She likes you a lot, dude,” Spider reiterates. “She just wants you to like her back.” 

Despite the glaring signs, Lo’ak has trouble believing that your feelings for him far surpass charity work. They couldn’t, it was impossible. Because at the end of the day, you’re you and he’s…him. 

He opens his mouth to say something, but Spider beats him to it.

“Did you at least apologize?” 

Lo’ak squirms.

“Dude!” 

“Look, I know, I know,” he tries to assuage the situation. 

“________ is literally the sweetest girl in the entire clan you just–“ 

“I get it, bro, I get it!” Lo’ak huffs. 

“Get your head out of your ass,” Spider says. “She might not stick around long enough for you to realize.” 

“Realize what?” Lo’ak snaps. 

“Are you really gonna play stupid right now?” 

He blinks at the human. 

“You like ________,” Spider says matter-of-factly. “You always have, ever since we were kids.” 

“Oh, piss off,” Lo’ak grumbles.

“Dude, you’re literally my best friend, but I sometimes I wanna shove my foot so far up your–”

“I do not like ________,” Lo’ak says sharply. 

“Everyone sees it but you, dipshit,” Spider scoffs. “You like her, but you’re scared. She’s perfect and she intimidates you. Think she’s gonna see you for what you really are and turn her back on you like everyone else does when you fuck up, but she’s not like that, Lo’ak. She’s been there whether you like it or not. But she might not always.” 

Lo’ak swallows down the knot in his throat, fingers tightening around the notebook. 

“Everything clicking?” Spider asks knowingly. 

Lo’ak throws him a final narrowed glare before stalking off. 

It’s Lo’ak’s birthday and just like every orbit, he spends it alone in the forest.

At first, he’d been burdened with the weight of hurting your feelings, but now his conversation with Spider weighs heavy on him as he climbs dirt walkways and flowered paths. 

It doesn’t help that your notebook weighs heavy in his satchel, a silent reminder that he still has a piece of you while you cling to his peace of mind. 

I think you’re brave, fearless. They’re the words you uttered to him that fateful night you turned the reality of you two on its axis. 

As he splices all the moments you two shared like a reel, he realizes that it’s endless. That you’re always there, you’d always been there, like a layer of impenetrable atmosphere surrounding him. 

He really should apologize, he knows this much, but you’ve disappeared like a wisp of smoke. Training sessions have returned to a sibling affair and he’s too prideful to ask about you. 

It’s almost eclipse when he begins making his way back for the evening meal, knowing that a scolding will await if he arrives even a minute late. 

After what had happened with you, he was lying low, trying to diminish his blip from the radar.

As he closes in on the village’s main circle, he notes that it’s quiet. A little too quiet. It puts him on edge, makes him draw his bow and feel around for an arrow in his quiver. 

A few more paces and he’s broken into the clearing, a few stragglers milling about. Another half a dozen steps and it’s like the forest melts into a celebration, whorls of blue pouring into the circle as villagers begin trilling. 

Lo’ak is hoisted into the air as the dying fire in the center of the camp begins to slowly roar. 

“Happy birthday, baby bro!” Neteyam caws loudly as they begin jostling him into the air, chanting and dancing as the dense crowd of clanspeople celebrate him.

It’s like time slows as he peers from side to side eagerly, seeing the way Spider, Kiri and Tuk dance happily among his people. Jake and Neytiri stand near the fire, smiles wide when they see the look of awe on their middle son’s face. 

When he’s finally set on his feet, he wobbles, childlike as he turns, taking in the glowing streamers that crisscross between the tents. Flowers of green and blue thread through the vines, gleaming like lamplight as the forest buzzes around them. 

“Wha– What is all this?” Lo’ak croaks in disbelief, eyes flitting wildly as he notices Norm and Max standing next to a table they’d hauled from the pod to the circle, piled high with meats and vegetables wrapped in leaves. 

A platter of yovo fruits, his favorite, are at the center, surrounded by a painted sign with his name and the handprints of dozens of villagers on it. 

“You survived another orbit!” Neteyam laughs heartily, head-locking the younger boy before roughly digging his knuckles into the top of his head. 

A laugh bubbles from Lo’ak’s lips, swatting his brother away as villagers and clan members he’d grown up with approach him one by one to greet him. 

As the night progresses, he doesn’t even realize he’s searching until your mother approaches and his spine goes rigid, cheeks warming under her piercing gaze. 

“From my ________,” she says, setting a pouch into his palms. “She toiled over these for many eclipses. Please take care.” 

Lo’ak’s nod is delayed as his satchel shifts on his shoulders, a dull reminder that your journal still remains with him, begging to be read. 

“Where– Where is she?” he asks suddenly, feeling your absence all the more now that your gift sits in the palm of his hand. 

“My daughter does not feel well,” your mother says simply. “She wished to be excused from the festivities.” 

His chest feels hollow, stomach tight as his cheeks burn. You’d mentioned this to him, all those days ago in the training circle, about wanting to celebrate with him. 

His eyes flit to the flowers looped through the vines, the mountain of yovo fruits, the gift in his hands. He doesn’t want to be presumptuous. Doesn’t want to fuel the tiniest ember of hope in chest, but he can’t help it. 

He can’t help but read into it, into the implications of this celebration you’d planned all for him, into every word you uttered to him in the quiet of the forest’s chirping. 

It’s all it takes for him to lock himself in his own head. The feast melts into the background, dull, as his eyes cut the crowd for you. 

You have to be here, gotta be hanging around the outskirts silently. The idea taunts him, makes his gut twist hard as images of you dancing in the circle, singing to him, celebrating him, loving him—

Lo’ak freezes, blinking incredulously at the thought that’d just crossed his brain. It makes him queasy, makes the regret and the guilt gnaw at every nerve ending as your crying face flashes like an unwanted slideshow in his brain. 

It’s all he can think about as the festivities die, as villagers begin turning in the for the night and he helps his family clean up the aftermath of another orbit finally finished. 

Spider helps Tuk and Neteyam near the fire, and as Lo’ak moves through the motions like he’s caught in a tide, Kiri watches, knowing all too well what consumes her brother’s mind. 

It isn’t until Lo’ak is shrouded by the stillness of the early morning, his family tucked in their tent, bodies and limbs splayed as they sleep together, that he sits in a swinging hammock, your journal and the pouch in his lap. 

It feels wrong, the way he thumbs the cover, working up the courage to turn it open. But Ewya, fate, would have never left it in his wake if it wasn’t meant to be read.

As his finger ghosts the etchings of the front cover, worn and loved by you, something tickles his leg as he admires the leather. He blinks in disbelief when he sees a singular woodsprite resting against his thigh. 

Before he loses his nerve, he’s opening the pages with bated breath. 

Recipes, nature notes, short thoughts fill the sheets and Lo’ak feels like he’s reading into your brain, seeing all the little things no one bothers to know. 

he is like the sun,

shines so bright,

but burns the closer you get. 

Lo’ak’s pointer finger glosses over the ink, over your curly handwriting. 

he is so incredible, but he doesn’t even know it. i want to shout it to every creature in the forest, every tree and every flower. oh, how i wish to be as fearless as him. 

His chest heaves as the words blur. 

Fearless. 

Fearless. 

Fearless. 

In this moment, he feels everything but. He feels like a coward. 

He continues to flip, throat lodged as he sees drawings, both rough sketches and full renderings. He hadn’t even known that you liked to draw, yet here he was, observing his home through your artistic eye. 

Flowers, leaves, trees, creatures, insects, fruits mar the stained papers, etched like it’d been caught in real time. 

likes green and blue. 

likes yovo fruits. 

The entry from the day you’d first walked with him through the forest. 

When he turns the page, his breath hitches. 

In full color, you’d captured his bullseye from your first training session. His back taut from the release, expression shaded stoic. He looked mighty, like the strongest warrior, and it was all through your eyes. 

Lo’ak doesn’t even realize he’s crying until the bullseye in the illustration bleeds from a fallen tear. Another one drips from his chin, then another. 

The next page is the night you two had poured your hearts out to each other. Again, in full color, he’s watching the stars. You don’t leave out the glow of the freckles that smatter his face and body, don’t miss the smile that plays at his lips as he quietly points out that his dad had come from a star. 

He flips again and different iterations and designs for what seems like jewelry litters the pages, shaded with different colors of blue and green, marked with varying notes, x’s marking through ideas you didn’t like. 

Lo’ak remembers the pouch, sitting untouched in his lap, and his shaky fingers undo the ties. He shakes the contents on the flat of the notebook and the most intricate beadwork fits into the crease. 

His eyes widen as he picks up the necklace in a trembling hand, the eclipsing sun catching the etching in the flat stones. 

Four five-fingered hands and four four-fingered ones, each separated by jewels scavenged and cleaned from the bed of the glowing river. 

A small scroll flutters from the pouch and Lo’ak chokes back as sob as he unrolls the hide. 

Happy Birthday, Lo’ak. I am always grateful to know someone like you. May your next orbit be filled with endless blessings from Ewya and may you see yourself how I see you. 

You see him, he realizes. You’re his supporter, a silent force that consumes every insecurity and swallows every doubt. You believe in him more than he believes in himself. 

He stands from the hammock and runs. 

You’re sitting in the same tree the two of you had rested in the night you’d confided in Lo’ak, watching as the sun eclipses and begins to light up the sparkling forest.

Something rustles and you sit up, hand on the hilt of your dagger as you search the area for movement.

As your eyes lock on the source, you almost wish it had been a beast coming to devour you whole. But as Lo’ak climbs the branches of the tree quickly, you feel the dread begin to solidify in your veins. 

You take your satchel, hanging from a nearby branch and sling it over your shoulder, pulling your shawl over your head to prepare for your escape. 

“________, wait,” he chokes breathlessly. “Please.” 

You feel like crying all over again, feel so unbelievably stupid thinking that Lo’ak would ever see you the way that you see him. 

You pause a beat as he settles on the branch across from yours, chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath. 

Something glints in the sun and your eyes widen when you see that Lo’ak has fastened the necklace you made him around his neck, right above the the leather chain that holds his beloved claw charm. 

“You’re wearing it,” you whisper, lips twitching into a frown as you try your best to keep your tears at bay. 

“I’m sorry, ________,” Lo’ak apologizes hoarsely. “Fuck, you don’t understand how sorry I am.” 

The tears well on their own. 

We’re not friends. We never were and we never will. 

The words haunt you like a broken record and you shake your head, moving from your perch to move down the branches. 

“Wait, wait,” Lo’ak pleads. “Please don’t go, I–”

“I hate you,” you whisper. “I hate you, Lo’ak.” 

He freezes, watching as you balance on a branch below. 

“I tried so hard to be your friend,” you whimper, angrily wiping away your tears. “You’re amazing. You’re strong, and you’re fearless, and you are everything I want to be, but you’re heartless.” 

Lo’ak lets out a shuddering breath, a chill running down his spine as you look up at him like he’d smashed every star in the sky. 

“I wanted to be with you, you know?” you let out a watery laugh. “I hoped that maybe if I stuck it out, you’d see how much I cared, how badly I wanted to be with you, even if it was from a distance.” 

“I do, _________, I do!” he argues. 

He hadn’t always, but he sees it now. He sees you. 

You shake your head again.

“You don’t,” you sigh, voice trembling. “It’s my fault anyways. You were right. You told me to leave you alone and I was being too much.” 

“Stop–”

“Let this be the last time,” you assure him. “Let’s just– Let’s pretend we never met.”

“No, _________. Wait!” 

You’re climbing down the tree and disappearing into the brush and, like a fleck of ash, you’re disintegrating into nothingness. 

Most people think he’s being moody, that he’s just been scolded by his father or older brother, but Neytiri knows better. 

She sees the way her son has changed over the course of the past few weeks. She knows there is a great burden that he carries, but much like her beloved and her eldest, he suffers in silence. 

“Maitan,” she says quietly, brushing a braid from his face as he folds the leaves around a chunk of steaming meat. 

Lo’ak pauses almost imperceptibly, but continues his task. 

It isn’t like him to stay home and work with Neytiri. If anything, he’d be the first one out of the tent, Tuk, Spider, and Kiri tailing after him as they galavant through the endless forest. 

“Something weighs heavy in your heart,” she tries again, hand coming over his. 

Lo’ak stops and leans back, unable to meet his mother’s searching gaze. 

“I hurt someone,” he says quietly. 

Neytiri stiffens.

“What?” 

“I hurt someone I care about,” Lo’ak admits. You’d called him fearless, strong. He needed to live by your word. “I hurt her and I don’t know how to fix it.” 

“Oh, Lo’ak,” she murmurs, squeezing his hand gently. 

Her face has softened as she takes in his stony expression. 

“My son, some things cannot be fixed,” she says honestly. “But all things require great effort. Sometimes those efforts will fall through, but that is the natural order of life.” 

Lo’ak swallows. 

“Whoever this special person is, if you have hurt her, she deserves the full effort of your heart, no?” 

You do, he knows you do. You deserve every last effort. But a niggling streak of insecurity tells him that you don’t deserve someone like him. You don’t deserve someone who takes your affections for granted. You deserve someone who will love you with every breath, who will love you fearlessly. 

“I really messed things up, Mom,” Lo’ak says quietly. “I don’t…” 

Neytiri’s hand comes to Lo’ak chest. 

“The night I first met your father, Ewya gave me sign,” she says. “He has a pure, strong heart. You do too.” 

Lo’ak swallows. 

“Be brave, Maitan,” she says. “Sometimes that is enough.” 

Lo’ak’s fingers hurt from picking berries.

His cuticles bleed, pricked by the thorns of the fruit’s bush. Kiri hums beside him, weaving a little bag out of ropes of thin vines. 

“You’re not gonna help me?” he whines. 

“Why should I help you with your mess?” 

You look beautiful under the glow of the evening meal’s crackling fire. It’s the first time you’ve emerged since before Lo’ak’s birthday feast and you’re being flocked by elders and villagers, wishing you well and asking about your supposed ailment. 

He sits across the fire, fists tight as he searches for a lull in the crowd. 

Spider snickers next to him, devouring the contents of his plate like he’s starved, watching Lo’ak’s useless pining like a show. 

Be brave. 

He’s standing to his feet before he can back out, crossing the circle to approach you. The villagers watch like they know something he doesn’t and the nerves are eating away at him as he steps into your space. 

You look up from your conversation with a girl your age, the smile slipping from your lips. 

“Can we talk?” Lo’ak asks, eyes wandering to watch the way everyone watches him. 

You remain jaded.

“Now’s not a good time,” you say quietly and a few onlookers snicker in the background. “________,” Lo’ak tries again. 

You stare up at him, the shadow of the fire dancing over your features as you seemingly look right through him. It’s humiliating, the way you remain seated and watch him fidget, but he figures he deserves the cold shoulder after months, years of casting you to the side. 

“Let’s go?” you ask the girl, nodding your head over your shoulder. 

The girl chances a glance between you and Lo’ak, noticing the telltale sign of your work etched into the stones of the choker he hadn’t taken off since his birthday. 

She gives him a sympathetic smile as she follows after you. 

He’s going to have to try a lot harder than he has, he realizes as your birthday looms right around the corner. The next eclipse, in fact. 

He’s losing hope, losing courage, but he can’t give up on you two just yet. 

He makes sure the berries he picked the days prior are packed tightly in his bag, the lid to the nectar fastened, and his present wrapped nicely. 

It’s his last hope, his last shot to make things right. 

Spider, Tuk, and Neytiri surround him, Neteyam and Jake off on a hunt. 

They’d all been privy to the fact, aiding him in his endeavors as he organized his final grapple with your heart. 

“Kiri said she’ll bring her right before eclipse,” Spider says, peeking from the flap of the tent. “That’s in, like, minutes.” 

Lo’ak is nervous. Doesn’t know what he’ll do if he loses you for good, but he knows he has to give it his best effort. It’s the least you deserve. 

Be brave. Sometimes that is enough. 

Lo’ak glances at his mom and she gives him a warm smile, ruffling his braids. 

“You are the son of Toruk Makto,” she assures him, pinching his cheek. “There is nothing you cannot do.” 

The words are carved into his brain as he rushes through the forest, the the stream that the curls and bends through the forest. It glows beautifully at night and that is his final push. 

“Wait, give me like three seconds, I left something.” Kiri’s voice is muffled behind the trees. 

“Huh?” Lo’ak sees the way your head tilts through an opening in the foliage. 

“I’ll only be a second!” 

“Wait, Kiri!” 

Kiri is running straight for him, comes barreling through the bushes, and continues down the path. 

“Good luck, egghead!”

Lo’ak takes in a final breath to quell the tremor in his hands before ducking through the bushes to reveal himself. 

You’re sitting on the embankment, on a woven mat that Kiri had laid out for you two, decorative vines edging the seams. 

“Oh, you were–”

You peer over your shoulder and your expression falls. 

“Lo’ak…” 

“Happy birthday, ________,” he breathes. 

You don’t look amused, slinging your bag over you shoulder as you rise to your feet. 

“Kiri and I are hanging out,” you tell him. 

He scratches the back of his head. 

“I…I had Kiri bring you here because I knew that you wouldn’t come with me if I asked,” he admits. “And of course, I don’t blame you, but I– I just really need to talk to you.” 

You bite the inside of your cheek, unable to look him in his eyes as he draws nearer. 

“Just give me some time, please,” he pleads. 

You finally meet his gaze, searching his eyes as he looks down at you earnestly. 

You give him the tiniest nod, reluctantly shedding your satchel to reassume your seat on the mat. 

The waters rush gently, like a song as Lo’ak lowers himself next to you.

His palms are clammy as he fidgets in his seat, the scent of herbs and flowers wafting from your dewy skin. He can’t bring himself to look at you, afraid that every sentiment he’d crafted in the hours of the night will escape him, so he watches the bubbling of the stream. 

“Well?” you whisper, like you don’t want to shatter the fragile sheath of peace that layers you. 

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly. “I know I’ve said it already, but I really am, ________.” 

“I know,” you murmur and his gaze flits to yours. “Even if you don’t act like it, you have a good heart, Lo’ak. You feel everything, even the things you don’t want to.” 

He swallows.

“I didn’t mean it,” he says carefully. “I was mad and I took it out on you. That wasn’t fair.” 

You sit silently, knees hugged to your chest. Your cheek rests against your knee, watching Lo’ak with seeing eyes. It makes him trip over his words. 

“My whole life, I’ve always been compared to Neteyam,” he says. “The entire village would whisper about me and how I was nothing like the mighty warrior.” 

When he glances at you, he notices your fingers twitch, like you want to reach out to him. 

He squashes his fears and turns to face you, five-fingered hand coming up to thread with your four. You watch the union, uncertainty obvious in the way you tense, but Lo’ak squeezes. 

“And then when we started growing up, you were just another person I had to live up to,” Lo’ak whispers. “You’re perfect, ________. You’re kind, and you’re smart, talented. You’re everything I’m not and it made me hate you.” 

You shrink, but Lo’ak pulls you towards him, hand coming up to brush your cheek. 

“But you’re all of that and more,” he continues, the words gushing like a river. “You’re always there, you support me and you defend me and see things I don’t.” 

You become shy under his gaze because for the first time, he’s seeing you. He’s seeing you for every single thing you’ve been to him and it makes your stomach knot. 

“I have something to tell you,” he says. “Please don’t be mad at me.” 

Your gaze is soft, palm still in his as he turns and reaches into the bag he discarded next to him. Your eyes widen when he produces your notebook, edges curled the slightest as he hands it to you. 

“My journal,” you say, taking it from him quickly. “I’ve been looking for this. Why- Why do you have it?” 

He looks guilty, lips rolling as he avoids your gaze. 

“Did you…” 

“I wasn’t going to,” he admits. “But there were woodsprites and I knew it was a s–”

“Lo’ak this is private,” you murmur incredulously. “Why would you read this?” 

“How long, ________?” he asks quietly, grip on your hand tightening. 

“Lo’ak, don’t–”

“How long?” he presses desperately. 

Your eyes are watering, like that wicked night all over again and Lo’ak begs Eywa for the final push. 

“Since we were ten,” you whisper brokenly. “It was my first performance and it was so stupid, but I was throwing up because I was nervous and you talked me through it.” 

Lo’ak is stunned, the memory like the faintest of outlines. 

“We didn’t even know each other that well,” you hiccup. “But you patted me on the back and you gave me this–”

You pull your fingers from his grasp and flip the journal to the last page, revealing a hidden pocket. Your nimble fingers pull a tattered string, the remnants of a vine, threaded with wilted flower petals, preserved from being pressed inside your notebook.

“You said that they made you make it during lessons,” you say, breath hitching. “That it’d be my good luck.” 

He’d forgotten all about the memory completely, too caught up in driving whatever wedge he could between you two, building up walls to seal you out. 

“And you kept it this whole time?” he asks, face scrunched in disbelief. 

“I’d hold on to anything you give me,” you admit in defeat. “Heartbreak included.” 

He lets out a shaky breath. 

“________, I’m so sorry,” he repeats, hand coming up to your neck. “You have to know that. I’m really fucking stupid, but if you give us a shot, I won’t mess it up.” 

Your hand comes up to his wrist, crumpling as you bow your head. 

“Don’t do this to me,” you beg, moving to break away from him. 

“Please.” 

His hold tightens, other hand twining with yours. 

“If I…if I give myself to you, I’m giving you everything,” you say hesitantly. “If you break this, you break me. I don’t think I can come back from this.” 

Lo’ak presses his forehead to yours, breath warm against your lips as he searches your gaze for any semblance of hope. 

“This is me being fearless, ________,” he whispers. 

You melt, pressing your lips to his tentatively. He’s frozen for the shortest of moments before relenting, pushing up onto his knees to deepen the kiss. 

He’s cradling your face and your hands are wandering and Lo’ak can’t help but think he could get used to loving you. 

To being loved by you. 

BONUS

“I was gonna give it to you on your birthday,” Lo’ak says sheepishly a few nights later under the stars. “But, you know…” 

Your usual place among the branches of the looming trees have a lot of memories both bitter and sweet, but you suppose you could make new ones. 

“You don’t have to give me anything,” you say sweetly, tail swishing to wrap around his ankle. “You’re all I need.” 

Lo’ak doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to your saccharine words if the pounding in his chest is anything to go by. 

His hands are shaky as he pushes the hide towards you, a bow made of vine tied neatly around the gift. 

“Wanted to,” he says simply, moving the hair from you face to see your reaction better. “Open it.” 

You’re gentle with the present, like you are with most things, but eager to see what he’d gotten you. 

A tiny gasp falls from your lips when you finally see it, wide eyes meeting his as you free the jars of paints he’d mashed up, the brushes he fashioned, and the brand new journal he bound himself. 

“Lo’ak, wow…” 

“So you can paint me more,” he says, then adds timidly. “Or maybe us. Maybe you could paint us.” 

an — holy shit guys, this was such a big project for me because i really wanted to dive into so many different things in this fic. to everyone who was waiting patiently, thank you sososo much. as usual, i took a lot of creative liberties with this one, but i hope you guys enjoyed nonetheless! although requests are paused for me to catch up, like always, if you wanna chat with me about literally anything, my askbox is open. lots of love hehehe :) xx

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neng © 2023

taglist: @nao-cchi , @jkiminpark , @philiasoul @amart-e , @s-u-t , @netesbby , @tayswiftlovebot , @dumb-fawkin-bitch , @ewackmn

[phfenomena]

❝state of grace.❞ || tom blyth x f!reader

| request- state of grace by taylor!!!!

| A/N- i’m using every goddamn line of this song in it. it’s too good to be ignored. justice for state of grace it’s my fav on red 😞😞

| WARNINGS- strange men in cafes, wine, monopoly, mentions of murdering josh, mentions of robbery, two goofballs in love, and big ol’ smooches

(divider by @v6que)

i’m walking fast through the traffic lights, busy streets and busy lives.

you’ve scrambled out of your apartment and are speed walking throughout the brooklyn streets in hopes of getting to your audition on time. being an aspiring actress in new york isn’t easy, but it’s all you wanted to do. nothing else called to you like acting, but the constant state of franticness and stress was taking a toll.

your mind begins to wander around the fact that the thousands of people you see tonight have their own lives, they’re trying to get home to their families, or their significant other, they have something to go home to.

all we know is touch and go.

after the disaster that one could call your audition, you figured you deserved a coffee. the cozy and serene café was one you frequented, on the days you had time. the chipper and almost too happy barista starts your drink the second she sees you cross the threshold of the doors. you go to take your usual seat by the window but stop upon seeing a man sitting there.

you stop and stare before ultimately deciding to just take the seat next to his, no, your usual seat. being too tired to even try to muster up the emotional strength to be upset, you plop down and place your head on the table. “you look like you really need this today.” jessie, the barista, says and places the mug of coffee next your head. you offer a small thanks and stare into the dark liquid.

we are alone with our changing minds, we fall in love till’ it hurts or bleeds.

the man occupying your space turned to look at you and he looked completely contrary to you, bright blue eyes, a smile, and he just looked content. he’s definitely attractive, but your brain couldn’t find any room for this man to move into.

“rough day, eh?” his accent makes you tilt your head towards him, he is really cute, you can’t lie. you nod your head tiredly and sip on your coffee. he stand up and takes the seat across from you and stick his hand out. “i’m tom, and you look like you could use a friend right now.” you shake his hand with a small smile and place the mug back down. “well, tom, how are you so good at reading people?” you pipe up after telling him your own name.

“it’s a talent i posses, love. can’t help it. i’m an empath.” his answer makes you laugh harder than you have in months. maybe this day wasn’t so bad after all. “there we go! you laughed, that was my whole goal. reckoned it would’ve taken longer, but i did it.” tom patted himself on the back as you shook your head with a small smile. “a woman of very few words, i see?”

you hum “i don’t know what to say to you, tom. a strange man approaches me in a cafe after i’ve had a bad day, what do i say to that?” he puts a finger on his chin to over exaggerate his thinking. “you could tell me about yourself, or i could tell you about myself. you just look lonely.” his eyes widen as he realizes he just called you lonely. he wasn’t wrong, but still hurt your feelings nonetheless.

“okay, i’m from california. everyone i know still lives there so it’s a little difficult to not be lonely here, but you don’t seem to be very not lonely. you’re sitting in a cafe by yourself and talking to strangers.” he throws his head back laughing. yeah, he’s really cute.

you come around and the armor folds, pierce the room like a cannonball.

after consistently hanging out with tom for a few months you’ve gotten into a routine. text tom good morning, tell him what you’re doing that day, and that you hope he has a good day. through him you’ve met some great friends, but you and rachel stuck together like glue instantly.

“so you’ve known tom for like seven months, and he still hasn’t come over to your apartment?” rachel asks in between sips of wine. you both sit on toms couch as the others are in the kitchen mixing drinks. “yes! i don’t know why i’m so nervous about it, it just feels too intimate for him to see it.” you and rachel giggle into eachother. it might be the wine, but you’ve never felt happier.

tom comes running into the living room, obviously drunk. “try this, i’ve perfected my concoction.” he shoves a foul smelling drink into your face. you look up at him and smile, “tom, this smells terrible. what the hell is in this?” he smells it himself and shrugs. “about a pour of everything.” you turn to rachel as if pleading for her to help. “i think i heard josh say he needs your help in the kitchen.” tom pipes up and struts back to the kitchen.

“someone needs to cut him off, he’s gonna be so sick tomorrow.” you manage to squeeze out in between your laughs. rachel wiggles her eyebrows at you “and you’ll be the one taking care of him.” you turn your head away from her with a pained expression. “i’m going to the kitchen to see what the hell they’re doing.”

so you were never a saint, and i loved in shades of wrong.

you lay flat on toms floor while he sits next to you, you’re talking about how you were as teenagers and before you met eachother. “no i was literally evil, i would ghost any girl that liked me.” toms cheeks are blushed from all the laughing. “i was the same way! i just never loved anyone right, and i was just really mean.” tom brushes a stray piece of hair out of your face that was stuck on your eyelashes. you stare up and him and swallow, you jet up to your feet. “i’m hungry, let’s go grab something.”

this is a state of grace, this is the worthwhile fight. love is a ruthless game.

josh, rachel, tom and you sit circled around your coffee table. monopoly laying on the table and wine in all of your hands. “that’s not fair! i’m in jail and josh gets to buy my properties?” you yell out as josh wheezes next to you. your eyes meet toms and you glance down at his wine stained lips. “you’re the bank, tom! tell him no and that i’m still a citizen!” “afraid you’ve dug your own grave, love. robbery does land you in jail.” he knowingly points his finger at you. “who said i committed robbery?! this is a corrupt world.”

rachel decided it might be best to put the game away before you actually do end up in jail for killing josh. the four of you sit on the couch watching some marvel movie. you turn your head to tom and whisper “so how did i commit robbery? what did i steal?” obviously still stuck on how you never won the game. he smirked down at you with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “my heart, love.” you pull away from him and pretend to gag onto rachel, who is sound asleep.

this is the golden age of something good and right and real. and i never saw you coming.

you wake up blearily and sit up. then a wall of pain shoots into your head as you look to your surroundings. tom is in your bed next to you. oh my god. tom is in your bed. he groans and grabs his head “what time is it? and how much wine did we drink?” he asks, acting like this is just a normal situation. “i have no idea where my phone is and apparently a lot because i feel like i got hit by a train.” you croak out laying back down.

toms arm finds its home around your waist and he cuddles into your back. “let’s just go back to sleep.” you nod and try to push down the sheer panic rising throughout your form. when you awake a few hours later, tom is gone. almost disappointed you walk out into your living room and find rachel and josh sitting there looking quite grumpy. “are you guys oka-” josh shushes you and goes back to rubbing his temples. you mutter a small sorry and walk into your kitchen, seeing tom making coffee. his bed head and sleep ridden eyes make your stomach feel warm and fuzzy.

“good morning.” you grumble and he laughs. “it’s three o’clock in the afternoon.” you laugh with him and rest your head on the counter waiting for the coffee. “i didn’t think we drank that much last night, i don’t even remember most of it.” you confess with furrowed eyebrows trying to rake back through your memories.

tom looks almost solemn at your confession and nods. “yeah, me too. it’s all blurry.” he remembered everything. last nights escapades slowly come back as you think and you excuse yourself to the bathroom. thinking of what happened last night.

you and tom sat on your bedroom floor as you showed him all the books you’ve collected and his smile was so wide it made your heart jump at the sight. you rambled on and on about how you read the ballad of songbirds when it came out and how he channeled coriolanus so well but he was just staring at you, the wine coursing through both of your bloods. he lunged forward and captured your lips with his causing you to drop your book and wrap your arms around him.

you quickly brush your teeth and comb through your hair, trying to look somewhat decent. you slowly tread back into the kitchen and stare at tom. “i remember last night.” you quickly confessed. biting the inside of your cheek as tom turns to look at you. “do you regret it?” he quietly asks before you shake your head and step closer to him. “no, i don’t. i’ve liked you since i met you.” he smiles and wraps his arm around you while pouring your coffee into your favorite mug.

these are the hands of fate, you’re my achilles heel.