#i don’t draw him consistent . it’s fine. he is everything

[jinkitsuragi]

[adelheidvonschicksal]

Nsfw scenarios/hcs for the LADS boys with their MC in ABO!AU (Idl if I wrote this right 😅) please? Like how they marked their mates, how they treated their mates during the rut and heat, etc.

+ Omegaverse, sexual content, alpha boys/omega reader, female reader

General

9/10 possessiveness level

Xavier is the most possessive of the main boys and gets jealous the easiest. He may seem calm about other alphas standing a little too close or talking a little too long to his mate, but the tension in the air is thick and unpleasant. There's a specific eery calmness to his face and falsely polite tone to his voice when he happens to cut into the conversation. He always wants to know the topic of conversation when you talk to anyone who has his suspicion. Xavier suddenly gets a little needier than usual, always trying to figure out a way to draw your attention back to himself. Or, purposely sliding an arm around your waist and holding you close in a silent hint that whoever is talking to you should back off, or he will drop his head against your shoulder, saying he’s tired, and asking you to hurry up so you can go home together,  he emphasizes. His last resort isn't pretty. 

While calm, he has a little of a competitive streak with others, whether that means scoring higher in your hunter team battles or building the largest snowman together. He is competitive for your attention against those he thinks are interested in you; and when he has you alone, he insists on scenting you or mating you. You better be prepared to hide large bite marks or hickeys by the time he’s done claiming you.

Protective Level: 6/10

Xavier has no problem with you running about your daily life. He has confidence that you’re strong and don’t necessarily need much protection. He only insists on coming with for two things: (one) if he’s jealous of the person you’re meeting or (two) if you’re going somewhere to fight on your own.

As long as he’s around, he’s confident that things will work out fine. However, he gets extremely protective when you’re hurt, asking for you to stay behind him, rushing ahead to be the vanguard, and trying to take on the brunt of everything himself. And if you get hurt being rash, prepare for him to be upset with you and insist that you allow him to protect you more.

Scenting

Scent: Fresh Linen

Xavier smells good, but there isn’t something to pinpoint about his scent that is unique to him. Simply put, he smells clean, like freshly dried laundry with a touch of lavender.

Xavier loves covering you in his scent, cuddling and sleeping with you until you’re no longer entirely sure what your scent smells like not mixed with his. He scents your things, like your plushies, before you even need to ask. 

He likes to tease you, asking if you want him to scent his hoodies even more since you take them so much, and he’s always happy to oblige. His first instinct to calm you down consists of three options: scenting, cuddles, and food, in that order.

Mating

Xavier already likes to mate with his partner a lot, like a constant rut minus the attitude that comes with it; always wrapping his arms around you, nudging the back of your neck, and lightly coercing the situation to where he wants it to end up whenever the opportunity shows itself.

In a rut, he’s twice as easy to rile up and much more direct about wanting to be alone with you, wanting to hold you and shove his head into the divot of your neck, and audibly inhaling your scent. You can already feel him against you in more ways than one.

He doesn’t waste his time trying to play games with you during this time, choosing to show you exactly how much he wants you before taking charge. You’re burnt out by his energy when you’re used to him napping right after a round or two. This time he isn’t letting up, but he promises that he’ll treat you so well, promises that he’ll get you there twice in exchange for letting him have one more time, as if you're aren't already overstimulated with jellied legs.

He asks if you're already tired. He'll let you sleep but can he at least squeeze and kiss you while he uses his hand. He promises to clean his mess if it gets on you. He'll be good, he swears, and he's so puppy eyed that you let him.

When he finally is tired, he’ll fall asleep while inside you. His knot stopped swelling a long time ago, but he enjoys your warmth around him as he nuzzles the back of your head.

Xavier does his best to tend to his mate when they’re in heat. He’ll get warm compresses and try his best to cook for you (most likely failing) and offer to nap with you when you’re in pain. He’ll let you use him how you want as long as it makes you feel better, whether that’s using his hands, mouth, or knotting you.

There’s a small bit of worry from him, with the way he asks,

“Where do you need it?” “Like this?” “Are you sure you only want my fingers? It’s okay to ask for more.” “Open your legs wider. You don’t have to be embarrassed. It's only me." "Next time, I'll let you take care of me, deal?

You’re so cute like this, needing and wanting him, but he hates how it causes you pain.

General

3/10 possessiveness level

Rafayel tends to have confidence that he can have you before anyone else, trusting your judgment to take care of yourself. He also has pretty high esteem of himself when it comes to the social world. A few properly chosen words is usually enough to get any seducer to back off. Rafayel can’t believe someone else could possibly think they’d have a chance with you when you have him.

As repentance, he wants you to do things for him after little incidents like that. It’s so exhausting chasing lesser alphas off, after all. Whether he’s serious or not when he says he could use some affection after his omega so cruelly ignored him for another alpha remains to be determined.

If there ever is a time where he feels insecure or jealous, he isn’t above trying to cut off someone’s relationship with you. If it comes to threats so be it, but it will end. It doesn’t matter if it’s from your side or the pursuer. It’s an ultimatum, either him or the other person, but not both.

He has a bigger concern about you not needing or growing bored of him than falling in love with someone else. Otherwise, he tends to have faith in you.

Protectiveness Level: 8/10

Rafayel knows you’re strong. Trust him—a twisted arm and playfights abound—he knows. But you are also bulledheaded and naïve. He worries you might end up getting yourself injured; or worse, killed.

So, he’s observant as always, watching for any suspicious activities with the people you’re around, whether warranted or not. He wouldn’t just do that for anyone, only for his precious mate and also for his precious peace of mind. He tends to operate from the background to not be too overbearing, but he doesn’t mind being the one to step in—to get hurt—if it means keeping you safe.

Scenting

Scent: Beach Sand with a Hint of Citrus

Rafayel smells of white beach sand and tropical fruit. He smells like the first hint of salt air and the ocean breeze and mineral. It reminds you of family vacations and old memories. He insists most Lemurians have scents like these, but his is special! It's the only one that mixes so lovely with yours.

He does scent you when you ask, but he requests that you do the same. It’d be much better for you to scent each other. He loves to tease you when you ask him to scent things for you.

“If you like it so much maybe I should make it into a perfume.” But he’d hate it if you actually agree. “Wait, let’s not be too hasty. A perfume really can’t compete with the natural source.”

Mating

Rafayel dislikes his mating cycle only because he dislikes losing his sense of control over himself. But when you’re there, with your scent clouding his mind, it’s all bets off. He’s so needy and HAS to have you. He feels like he’ll die if he isn’t burying himself in your scent, your presence, in you. He needs to feel your hands on him and isn’t below demeaning himself or being more forceful than usual to get it.

He’ll constantly seek you out, calling you late at night. He has nothing to say. He just needed to hear your voice, just keep breathing for him, he’s almost there. He needs you to come over to his place right now. It’s all your fault he’s burning like this. You need to get there immediately and take responsibility before he goes insane. He's already dizzy and his hand isn’t cutting it anymore.

In person, he grabs your hand, and the look in his eyes is begging in place of his mouth that’s too heavy with pants to talk straight as he savors your touch, desperate and gluttonous. 

“Right there...don't make me beg…just a little bit longer.” “I need to feel you. There. You feel incredible.” “If you want my knot, you can have it. Say you want it for me, and I’ll give it to you. Say it.”

When it’s your turn to go manic, he’s going to have his revenge for all the bullying and petting you did while he was rutting. He’s going to coo and fawn over how much you need him, and make you ask him nicely for his touch, but he’ll always give in to his little mate. He knows what’ll make you feel good, and he’s going to give it to you in due time. He thinks you look so pretty when you’re about to cum, covered in sweat, body tensing, the shallow, quick breaths.

“I wish I could paint you like this, but I don’t want to look away.” “Do you really want me to breed you that bad? Don’t say you didn’t ask for it.”

Rafayel is going to make sure you have an easy time, clearing out your schedule for you and letting you stay in the studio with him. Thomas' calls are going to go unanswered for a while.

General

6/10 possessiveness level

Zayne is able to get jealous; however, he isn’t one to distrust you. It’s other people he doesn’t trust. He’ll drop hints he doesn’t like something you’re doing, a sarcastic jab here, a polite warning there, and even a “you should be careful of the company you keep.”. He always introduces himself as your mate to ensure there are no misconceptions about your relationship with him.

Zayne occasionally has to remind you that he’s your partner especially when you insist on teasing him and being a brat, poking at that jealous side of his to rile him up. It doesn’t take long for you to get the idea after having him between your legs. It’s really more of a funny thing, seeing him possessive, because he becomes a lot more short-tempered but absolutely refuses to admit he’s being possessive.

However, he calms relatively easy with some reassurance, and he doesn’t care as much if someone likes you after he knows you have zero interest in them. It’s more of an annoyance than something for him to fear.

Protectiveness Level: 10/10

Zayne is always so worried about you. He always has to tell you to be careful, to watch where you’re stepping so you don’t trip, to not drink too much without him there to take you home, and to watch for injuries. It might be a bit of his doctor attitude coming out, but it’s so much worse when it comes to you. You know no one else who adds the weather of the city you’re in to confirm you’re okay.

He’s also protective of your mental wellbeing; he tends to be the rock you rely on. If someone is bothering you, you can tell him, and he’ll be sure to handle the issue immediately.

Scenting

Scent: Bamboo Forest

Zayne smells like bamboo forests, a mix of floral and earthy. It kind of reminds you of him, calm and quiet but strong and solid like the earth. Fresh, green, and slightly woody. It smells like nature.

He scents you when you ask, and he quietly scents you when he wants, always overthinking if it’s something you want him to do or appropriate at a given point in time. It doesn’t take long for him to become better at knowing when you want it, when to leave something with his scent for you when you’re upset, and when to simply cradle you against him. His mood improves exponentially whenever you shove your face into his chest and mumble about how good he smells.

Zayne loves the way you smell. It’s a familiar and comforting thing to have your scent greeting him after a hard day at work. It lets him know you’re doing okay, and he gets worried whenever your scent is off. He can usually tell the slightest changes of your mood, and it makes him agitated whenever you try to pretend you’re fine when he can clearly tell different from smell alone.

Mating

Zayne tries his best to control himself and avoid you during his ruts. The last thing he wants to do is hurt you, which leads him to being too restrained whenever he’s with you to the point where you can tell he’s not handling himself well.

It’s going to take a few times to convince him that you can handle it, that he can let go and give you everything before he finally allows himself to dive into his hormones, throw you against the bed, and kiss you hard. It's almost like a completely different side of him. Sure, he could always be dominant in the bedroom but there was always a control to it. Instead, he's instinctive, running off the rush of endorphins to reach the peak he desperately wants to tumble over, harsh and tunnel visioned as he chases the sensation of you clamping down around his knot.

“Hold it there, we’re almost there. You can handle it.” “Let me have you a few more times. Then, you can rest.” “Good girl. You’re doing so well. So good to me.”

During your time, he is meticulous. Zayne knows you almost as well as you know yourself, knows what sweets you like to eat, what positions make you the most comfortable, and tips on how to keep yourself together.

That only works so long, however, and soon he takes a more hands on approach in helping you through your heat cycle. His fingers curled up inside you, pushing that sweet springy spot inside you that has your juices pouring over his palm. He shushes you as you beg for him to give you more and more, to please stop this edging and fuck you already.

He promises he’ll make it good, but he has to slowly work you up first, so you won’t get overstimulated. Then, he’ll give you what you want until you pass out.

“Hold still, or do you want me to stop?” “Does it feel that good? I’ll be sure to remember that for next time.” “See what happens when you follow directions?” “You’ll have your reward soon. Which do you prefer to have—my fingers or my knot?”

Zayne also takes special care of you no matter the situation, making sure to wipe you off and hold a warm rag to your swollen and puffy cunt as he makes out with you. He scents you heavily afterward and lets you fall asleep against him until it all starts over again.

[cherryredstars]

holy sbit i just read your actor!mig oneshot and i’m frothing at the mouthjfjfjdand it got me thinking

how would reader react if mig had to do a sex scene for a movie? i mean she’d be fine with outwardly but inwardly, understandably she’d be jealous asf, even though there is security in their relationship i feel like it would be difficult, how would mig react to her being insecure? or maybe jealous because of that🥹

(i saw ur requests were open and i couldn’t help myself, tysm for reading this and you don’t have to do it if you don’t want to i love your work regardless<333)

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Insecurity, Mirror Sex, Praise, Fingering, Oral Sex, Mentions to Breeding Kinks

Summary: Nothing but a good sex scene. 

Word Count: 2K (Not Edited)

Part 1

The internet sucks.

You know that, Miguel knows that, everyone knows it. Yet, here you are, hurting your own feelings as your phone feeds you countless posts about your boyfriend and his new movie. His new movie that also stars a really popular, really really pretty female co-star. Who he had sex with. Cinematically. In the movie.

Movie sex is not real sex. Miguel says and reminds you all the time. Most of the time, sex scenes only consist of the actors being shirtless and zoomed in shots of their upper bodies. Convenient things like a perfectly placed object or being under the sheets hid the fact nothing is actually going on. Miguel always assures you that, if the directors want a real sex scene, he’d be out of there in seconds. 

But still, all the edits and tweets and pictures that are filling up every corner of the internet make your skin raise and ache. It definitely looks real. It’s not really a surprise, Miguel and his co-star are wonderful actors. They’re so good at their jobs. It makes you feel gross. Especially when you can’t stop replaying the scene over and over again. It’s not hard to find it, the scene devours the internet like a wildfire. 

She looks pretty. No, not pretty, gorgeous. Hot and sexy and erotic. Nothing like you at all. Her skin is impossibly smooth, shiny and soft. Her lips are painted in a deep red that pops against her skin and draws attention to her perfectly sculpted face. Even if it weren’t for the lipstick, the calculated moans she makes for the camera draws your attention to her mouth. Her moans are perfectly pitched. They’re breathy and her mouth forms the perfect ‘o’. It makes you rub at your throat, an uneasy feeling getting stuck there. You don’t moan like that. 

Her facial expressions are amazing too. Brows furrowed in a way that perfectly showcases her pleasure. But they don’t look funny or distort her face too drastically. When her eyes roll back, her eyelashes flutter so nicely. She doesn’t look possessed or ugly. Your hand subconsciously rubs at your cheek. You don’t look so effortlessly pretty like that.

It ruins you. Why would Miguel possibly want to have sex with you if he has pretty, hotter co-stars? The thought sticks with you even with Miguel on top of you. Usually, you’d be on your back, legs spread and exposed for his viewing pleasure. But you can’t, not today. So Miguel has begrudgingly agreed to take you in a different position. Your ass is in the air, upper body pressed into the mattress. Your face is completely hidden from his view, something Miguel isn’t the happiest about. What’s even worse, he can barely even hear you. You’re pushing your face into one of the stupid pillows, muffling the minimal sounds you’re making. 

Usually, you’re moaning and whining uncontrollably under him. Your mouth never shutting as noise spills from your swollen lips. It drives him crazy to hear your verbal pleasure. The pleasure he gives you. Sometimes you’re babbling broken sentences or just calling out his name, but it's everything to him. So hearing almost complete silence from you, paired with not being able to see your reactions, shoots worry through him. 

He tries everything he knows drives you crazy. He leans forward and pinches and tugs at your clit. It twitches in his fingers, but you don’t make your usual gasps. He spreads your legs wider and juts his hips into you with more force, hitter deeper against your wall. You don’t give him that beautiful, high-pitched scream of his name. You instead, shove your face into the pillow and hum. He leans in and whines into your ear about how tight you are. How he really, really wishes the two of you would throw away all protection so he can fill you up with his baby. Instead of begging and babbling, you wiggle your hips and push back into him. 

Something awful hits his chest. Did he do something wrong? Are you upset with him? Are you not feeling well? Does it not feel good?

He instantly stills, all the arousal he once had disintegrating. He pulls out slowly, not wanting to hurt you. You turn to him in confusion, brows furrowed from over the pillow. He flips you over gently, turning you on your back and dragging you close to him. You still have that pillow pressed to your lower face, arms wrapped around it. You look like a damn vision, naked before him with your hair spread out on the bed. You look like an offering with that white pillow covering your face and chest, leaving him to only focus on your big doe eyes and the fact your legs are spread to accommodate his body. Innocent and cute and sexy. 

His hands land on your outer thighs, warm and big as they rub up and down your skin. It makes you melt into the bed, a sleepy look masking your eyes. Miguel’s heart sings at the pure content on your face, but it doesn’t drown out his concern. He can feel unease in the air and his hair stands on end. Slowly, you pull the pillow away from your face as you realize he isn’t going to slip back inside of you.

“Why y’stop?” you call out shyly to him, a small pout on your lips. You seem nervous and Miguel’s hands tighten on your thighs. 

“You’re acting differently. What’s wrong?” He counters. 

You grow bashful under him, pulling the pillow up to hide your cheeks that are colored in shame. You simply shrug, turning away from him as you slowly start to close your legs. He doesn’t stop you, but he doesn’t take his hands off of you. He helps you sit up when you make the move to, his hand moving to grasp both of yours. He gives them a comforting squeeze and a kiss to your forehead. Your eyes flutter shut, breathing in the comforting clean scent he carries. 

“What’s wrong, mi vida?” He asks again. 

You don’t respond. But you don’t have to. Miguel looks at you like he knows. He always knows. Tentative and caring Miguel who always knows. His kiss to your forehead is rougher, more pressure behind it before he pulls away. The way he carries you is effortless, like he’s carrying a bag of feathers. He moves the two of you to the opposite side of the bed, directly in front of the wall of mirrors that make up the walk-in closet. He sits down first, maneuvering you to sit on his thigh with your back pressed to his front. 

Your eyes are glued to your reflection, naked against Miguel with nothing but a fluffy pillow hiding you. His face nudges at your jawline and neck. He places soft kisses along the skin, distracting you as he takes the pillow from you. He places it to the side, still within your reach. Your fingers itch to grab at it again, but you resist. Instead, you close your eyes and focus on the way Miguel’s fingertips glide over your warm skin and make you shiver. You lean back into him, head resting against his shoulder. His hands travel down, and you bury your face into the crook of his neck to hide your gasp. His fingers caress the lasting stickiness between your thighs, his own leg moving to widen yours. You peek at the mirror from beside his neck, eyes falling to the glistening between your thighs. Your cheeks heat and you nuzzle your face into Miguel as a way to hide. He hums against you, hand still moving and collecting your juices on his finger. You whimper when he pushes it in, thumb swiping gently over your clit.

“Shh, taking it so well, mi hermosa. My pretty baby.” He coos gently into your ear, curling his finger inside of you. 

Your hips buck instinctively, another whine leaving as his finger grazes your walls. His other hand comes to massage your hip and your eyes catch the movement in the mirror. Miguel is looking at the mirror too, studying you. His touch is soft, his finger pumping in and out of you slowly. You moan into his neck, eyes fluttering when he adds another. They scissor inside of you, meeting together to curl. Your hand comes up to hold his, taking it away from your hip and squeezing it tight to stabilize you. 

He hums into your hair, muttering soft praise into the strands. His fingers continue curling, going to the knuckle so he can press onto the gummy spot inside of you. You can’t hold in your moans anymore, giving them freely to him. It makes him smile, kissing the crown of your head. 

“That’s it, singing so prettily for me, yeah?” He asks, letting go of your hand to grab your chin. 

He removes your face from his neck, making you face him. Your eyes are droopy from pleasure, and your lips are parted slightly so soft moans can escape. It makes his cock jump, but he ignores it to give you a sweet kiss. It’s soft and passionate. His lips opened and slanted against yours. His tongue is warm as it slips into your mouth, caressing your own until the both of you are moaning into each other's mouth. It makes your head foggy and you forget all about what you were scared about before. 

When Miguel pulls away, he turns back to the mirror and groans at the sight of you. You’re slick is dripping down his fingers and your skin fucking glows in the reflection. His fingers speed up, his thumb pressing into your swollen bud. 

“Been thinking about you so much, y’know that. Was fucking fantasizing about you during that whole movie. Imagining doing all those things in the script to you drove me fucking crazy. Had to take care of myself in my dressing room thinking about your cute little noises and the faces you make. Mi hermosa nena.”

The little whimper you let out paired with the tightening of your walls is fucking precious. He pulls you into another kiss, quickening his fingers until your whole body is twitching. You have to pull away from the kiss, your hand clawing to his arm and nails digging in as your moans get louder. With a hard flick to your clit and the curling of his fingers, your body is shaking with an orgasm. Your toes curl, head thrown back against his shoulder as he finger fucks you through your orgasm. 

“That’s, that’s my beautiful girl. Ride it out baby, I got you.” He mumbles against your shoulder, pressing kisses along the curve of skin. 

He only stops pumping into you when your hand pushes him away. Your body is heaving with the effort of breathing, and Miguel watches every second through the mirror. When you finally compose yourself, you nuzzle into his skin. It makes Miguel smile, kissing your hair again before gently lifting you off of his lap and laying you down on the bed. You watch hypnotized as he sucks his fingers into his mouth, humming around them before popping them back out. You whine softly at him, and he chuckles down at you. 

He leaves you on the bed, vanishing into the bathroom before coming back with a towel. It makes your brows furrow, leaning up and your elbows as he begins to clean you up. 

“But… What about you?” You ask, eyes trailing down to his prominent hard-on. 

Miguel follows your line of sight, shaking his head when he looks back up at you. “Don’t worry about it baby, all I care about right now is you.”

His confession makes you melt, letting yourself sink into the bed. His touch is gentle as he cleans you, and he throws the towel to the floor when he’s done. He hovers over you, leaning down to kiss you softly before resting his head against yours. 

“Te amo, mi amor.”

And you know. He always lets you know.

[sexiestpodcastcharacter]

Sexiest Podcast Character — Unscripted Bracket — Round 5

Propaganda

Glenn Close (Dungeons & Daddies):

#Propaganda for Glenn Close: one of the other PCs mentions multiple times how hot he is #Actually several characters point it out but especially Henry #Also the only person in a podcast that has to put a disclaimer about not being a BDSM podcast to have had sex during the course of the show

Young hot rocker dilf

Loyal to his dead wife <3

Does in fact smoke weed

BARD!! HES A BARD. HE WAS LEAD GUITAR IN HIS BAND (that he was kicked out of)

His band was a Christmas cover band btw.

Literally the fandom had hot Glenn summer which consisted of drawing him being incredibly hot and sexy

Anti government (ofc)

Kind of cringefail (Disney adult) (was on dilfs of disneyland)

Young and sexy not your style? Then how about HIM AFTER YEARS LOCKED IN A TIME PRISON WITH A DAMN HANNIBAL MASK ??

Lost an eye and wears a fucking eyepatch

One incredibly buff arm

Has a pet rat named after his son <3

Immeasurable amounts of trauma in this man- becomes progressively more unhinged

OH OLD HUMAN BARD ISNT CUTTING IT? FINE

HE BECOMES A FUCKING DEMON

A COOL HOT ONE-EYED DEMON WHO WANTS TO KILL HIS DAD (also sexy)

HE CANONICALLY ENDS CHRISTIAN HELL VIA CHRISTMAS

IS ALSO WAY OVERLEVELED

Becomes a demon hunter for the rest of his existence

Also nonwhite !!! We are done with cringefail whiteboys !!!!!!!!!

I can’t put into words ok just know he is the best plz love him.

Okay but Glenn made a minivan cum by talking to her so

HE HAS A BOOK THAT HE MARKS X’S AND CHECKS FOR EVERY DAY TO SEE IF THAT DAY WAS A SUCCESS OR NOT. TO SEE IF HE DID GOOD THAT DAY. ITS ALMOST ENTIRELY X’S. HE WAS CUCKED OUT OF A SON. AND A DEAD WIFE. HE DIDN’T EVEN GET TO KILL HIS DAD IN REVENGE. There’s absolutely nothing going for him except his sex appeal in his life. Nobody he loved remembers him. He lost his eye. All he has is a pet rat and friends who admit they don’t really like him that much. He was kicked out of his own band. The band was named after him. He was kicked out of the Glenn Close trio. All he could do was deez nuts the big bad and be sexy. If nothing else, then pity him. Look in his eyes. Look at his heart and soul. He did not do the BDSM episode for this I’ll tell you what. Do this for my his sake. Do it for Nick Jr, who needs the prize money to pay for his rat snacks. Do it for his son. For Morgan. Ganbatte.

Glenn is the goofiest sexiest character there is and I will die on this hill! I will ride into battle for him! what Dndads created is truly unique and Glenn is a key part of that and for that he deserves to win. I said it before and I'll say it again - GLENN SWEEEEEP

Can we talk about how he says ‘baby’ casually? Like he just calls people that?? That’s HOT. THAT IS HOT!! He’s also bilingual and knows Japanese!!!! He’s a big dumb idiot with a lot of charisma!!!!!! HE WORKED AT A BDSM PLACE FOR TWO SEPARATE ONE SHOTS. HES SO SAD BUT PLAYS IT OFF LIKE HE’S CHILL ALL THE TIME!! HE DOESN’T THINK OF HIMSELF AS SINGLE BECAUSE HE DIDN’T DIVORCE HIS DEAD WIFE!!! He’s like.. the perfect guy. We need this win.

I’d also like to add the fact I made this. Which is the first 11 episodes edited to (almost) only have Glenn in them <3 which is a level of insanity I hope to reiterate. These took hours to make. I wouldn’t do that for anyone else.

Mod Note: While I will still take "bad dads are sexy" propaganda and "bad dads aren't sexy" anti-propaganda, I kindly request no more discussion on whether or not he was a bad father. This is a sexypoll, not a parentingpoll. If you see a post you strongly disagree with, you can just not reblog it.

Mod Note 2: This tournament is about fictional podcast characters. Please do not vote for the real actress Glenn Close.

Amber Gris (The Adventure Zone: Ethersea):

Middle aged woman who punches sharks to death. My hero

If you love me you'll vote for amber gris I swear to everything holy on earth amen

Amber is butch, instant win

Amber Gris has a negative charisma modifier and she pissed her pants on purpose in order to trick a guard and knock him out. She tied up a dude. She once killed an evil magic shark (they're out for murder. not like real sharks) by punching it and then picked it up and smashed it into another shark, also killing it. She talks in a southern accent. She calls people guppy because it indicates a lack of respect. She has a big pair of magical green arms that come from her stomach. She got a fancy jacket and immediately ripped its sleeves off. She has a gay thing going on with one of the political leaders in the city. She gets in fights with people and doesnt do vulnerability and tries to lay low and not get in any social trouble she doesn't have to. She jumped through a portal into a new world because she could. She's now the god of said world, alone with only afformentioned political leader, who was previously possessed and she had to fight. She spends her time in a bar called the Cloaca. She calls people she doesn't like claspers, because it means shark penis. She and her friend, an old man named Uncle Joshy, sneak attack each other and yell VIBE CHECK! She tries to talk fancy to impress people and she's really bad at it (verily).

She’s everything and more. She’s irreverent. She punches sharks for a living. She becomes God. What more do you need in a butch.

amber gris propaganda: she is straightup the physical embodiment of "women want me, fish fear me." also she's an appalachian post apocalyptic sea captain. that's just objectively cool.

AMBER GRIS IS PUNCHES SHARKS AND IS (one of) THE MOST BADASS BLACK WOMEN PCS IN DND SHOWS IVE EVER SEEN. SHES INCREDIBLE AND A WIN FOR DYKES EVERYWHERE

amber's creator said she was based off of the type of working-class woman you commonly see in appalachia where "this is the sort of woman that you see walking past CVS, and you know that a truck could hit her and it would just split around her as she continued to go pick up whatever she had to do that day." and that's pretty hot

guys Amber becomes lesbian god of the new world with her childhood “”friend””

#amber gris is LITERALLY a middle-aged butch #she would win this entire tournament in a just world

Last time Amber got horny was when she killed that shark

"it was a savage bummer though, don't-- trust me, there's nothing that great about a history. You know? I got one. What did I do, killed a bunch of sharks? Last time I got horny, god and christ I can't even tell you-- well, it was when I killed that shark. But! Hey. We're all just kinda figuring it out."

Moonshine Cybin (Not Another D&D Podcast: Bahumia):

She's a hot elf with mushrooms growing on her. She has 1 level of barbarian. She's bisexual. She shapeshifted into a dragon and ate a god.

how tf does the post not mention Moonshine’s giant boobs her greatest asset

Moonshine has canonically gone down on a woman for a solid hour without asking for anything in return. Moonshine edged a dryad just by kissing them. Moonshine faced down someone being controlled to kill everyone in his path and told him if he still wanted to hurt her, she would take his blows as a friend. Moonshine makes jambalaya for her family and friends. Moonshine mispronounced someone’s name for a month and that woman still wanted to hook up with Moonshine. These are just a few of the reasons why Moonshine is sexy.

shes illiterate

canonically huffs dirty water from a bong

has big tatas

wears a belly chain with a demon trapped in it

almost became the queen of hell

ate a god

turned into a pregnant moose & gave birth

The woman she went down on for an hour asking nothing in return is still hung up on her, 200 years later. Moonshine is unmatched

To be clear the woman whose name Moonshine mispronounced for a month and then hooked up with is the same woman she went down on for an hour, and the same woman who is still flustered over her 200 years later. The rizz is unparalleled. She’s also incredibly kind and accepting of others, and goes out of her way to bolster her friends. The party always requests one big bed.

moonshine cybin is a druid who learned counterspell through sheer force of will. moonshine cybin turned one of the four horsemen of the apocalypse into a dolphin, flew him 60 feet up into the air, dropped him on the ground, and then spit spores into his face to kill him. moonshine cybin turned into a dragon and bit the head off of a double god. moonshine cybin was willing to confine herself to an eternal hell to save the world. moonshine cybin is a dragon rider. you know what you must do.

Amber and Moonshine Together

Look at them. They should not have to fight when they could be gay instead. Imagine the power they would have combined... Every lesbian in a hundred mile radius of the post would swoon. It may be an odd alliance, but from an Ethersea fan to Bahumia fans, i believe this will strengthen both our odds. I have always been insane about Amber Gris but through this poll I have also learned about Moonshine and come to love her too. Take my hand... We can do this together...

OKAY HEAR ME OUT MOONSHINE AND AMBER WOULD GET ALONG SO WELL

appalachian sapphic solidarity!

Art of Amber and Moonshine from @pirateknight.

[frozenjokes]

deeply infatuated with them. so much so that you guys can have the full ficlet as a treat. And yeah he wears that dumb fuck lab coat to bed of course he does. he’s also a socks in bed wearer and if you don’t think so we will be dualing at dawn.

zombiecleo and the worst found family in the world vvv

Ow. Ow.

Mosquitos, deer flies, horse flies, bugs, Cub was being ravaged by bugs, he really hadn’t considered the bugs when he’d started this journey. In the Wisconsin northwoods you breathed them, all sorts, but the deer flies were his worst enemies, drawing blood even through the thick layers of.. well, moss didn’t feel like an accurate descriptor. It looked a little like moss, like life had reached toward the sky and captured the stars, brilliant and twinkling and everything good. But moss didn’t have teeth. Sculk did. Cub liked that about it. Whether it hurt more or less than the flies, that was up for debate, but the sculk was consistent, familiar, everywhere, and the flies were in his way.

But with all the bugs, there was some reprieve. Afterall, another source of food meant less of those teeth under Cub’s skin. Less pain, though, somehow, he still managed to miss it.

Sculk was alien. It was not supposed to be here. But it wanted to be.

Sculk was a parasite. So was Cub.

Ow- Fucking- stupid ass dumbass fucking-

Cub jolted awake with a screech, being shaken- dragged out of bed, the monster on his neck- he was falling, a bear- a black bear had got him, he was being dragged through the woods by a black bear- fuck- what bear was it you where you were supposed to play dead? Cub had thought the brown bear, there weren’t brown bears in Wisconsin- He tried anyway.

He realized the floor was not dirt. The paws awkwardly dragging him along weren’t black or brown. Momentarily stunned, he heard Cleo cackle through the darkness.

“Scar- Scar! What are you doing? Wait- No no- No! Scar!”

Cub had the wind knocked out of him as his kidnapper attempted to jump onto Cleo’s bed, his stomach slamming into the mattress before he was unceremoniously dragged all the way up over a howling Cleo. Briefly Cub was released, to which he cautiously began to move until the sheets were pulled so hard underneath him that he fell off balance, only to be grabbed by the throat, then shoved head first underneath.

Cub needed a second to breathe, utterly shocked he was still alive. Then a large weight fell on top of him, and breathing became a little harder. The weight began to purr.

“Scar.” Cleo gasped, sounding just as shaken as Cub felt, though not nearly as dazed. The purring ceased briefly, then began again, Cleo’s bewilderment remaining unanswered. “What- Why?” they tried again, which Scar seemed more receptive to.

“Easier to watch when you’re close together. This is better. Efficient. Safer.”

“We- We don’t need to be watched, Scar. We are safe. This room is safe. There is literally nothing in here that can hurt us.”

“That RenKing is awfully suspicious. It’s watching me.”

“He’s not on! He can not turn on by himself, we are fine.”

“What else lurks in the shadows, Cleo? You never know, you never know. One minute you’re safe, the next minute a hawk has swooped out of nowhere and grabbed your kitten, you gotta be careful, you gotta sleep together. It’s the best way to do it, it’s the best way.”

“I can not argue with you about this right now. Is Cub even alive?”

“He’s wriggling.” Cub was indeed wriggling. He wasn’t even uncomfortable per se, there was something deeply mollifying about having a large weight directly on your back, and he slept face down anyway, so this wasn’t a huge issue. Just adjusting.

“Let him go, Scar.”

Cub was a little offended by the implication that he could not get Scar off by himself- Scar was at least half his weight! “I’m fine.”

“He’s fine,” Scar parroted.

Cleo sighed, long and strained. She said no more. With enough passage of time, Cub stopped going to sleep in his own bed, since no amount of arguing was going to stop Scar from dragging him out of it every night. Though, out of all of Scar’s disruptive quirks, this was not something Cub minded all too much. He liked Cleo’s company, though he was relatively certain Cleo did not enjoy sleeping in a full bed nearly as much. Well, Cub definitely took up more room, but it wasn’t like she had slept alone since Scar had invited himself to sleep at their feet anyway.. then their legs.. then their stomach.. then their chest. Maybe this was always the next step. Cub wouldn’t be surprised if Scar had been planning it from the start. Oh well. No skin off his back.

uh if you like this there’s more of it on ao3 here’s a link

[izudeeilo]

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You can study me

Sero hanta smau

volley-ball player sero x art student fem!reader, no quirks au, college au.

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a/n before you go on! there's going to be more pictures throughout this part, so when you see the divider (yellow line), stop and go back to the reading part :)

Senior year is finally here! You thought that this time, the teachers would be more lenient with you and your classmates, but not at all. In fact, they even got stricter... They assigned you a half year-long work, which would be worth 30% of your final grade. What does the work consist of, you ask? Making a complete study of the life of a student you need to pick and paint it.

But... you can't pick a friend.

Part.5 • Part 7

Part 6

Ever since he sent you that message you’ve been anxious of what he had in mind. You couldn’t stop thinking about it and hated that you had to wait the whole weekend for it.

He hasn’t texted you since and your head was overflowing with scenarios.

“I think I'm going to go insane” you say groaning as you walk in the kitchen where the girls were cooking together.

“It’s going to be fine you drama queen. It’s not the first time you hang out without any plans” Himiko says while chopping vegetables.

You cross your arms and lean on the doorframe. “But it feels like it's more than this, he hasn’t even texted me since” you retort.

Throwing your head back with another groan, you approach the counter and take a piece of cut cucumber.

“Listen, it’s Hanta okay. There’s nothing to worry about” Mina comes up to you and puts her hand on your shoulders. “So stop your drama, and we’ll soon clear your mind with our little girl time mmh” she tilts her head with a reassuring smile.

You sigh and laugh. “You’re right, now that I admitted that I liked him, I've been overthinking every small thing he does…”

“So you do still have some sense left in you” Ochaco turns to you both with a smirk.

“Oh shut up” you roll your eyes. “Now what do you need help with” you ask, rolling your sleeves up.

You and the girls were now having a little party every weekend when you didn't have anything else planned. You cooked and baked together, chose a movie to watch while sipping a glass of wine.

Pretty cliché yes, but don’t clichés always end up being the best.

At the end of the night, you all go back to your rooms and as you lay down on your bed slightly tipsy, you grab your phone and open your discussion with Hanta and just type.

You

made me anxious whole weekend dumbass

You woke up the next day thankful classes were canceled today, so you could prepare yourself mentally before 6pm came. You were of course excited to spend the evening with him but you just had that weird gut feeling that something was going to happen.

As you slowly got ready, showering, finding a simple and comfortable but still cute outfit, you were left sitting on the couch.

It was only 3pm and you decided to draw some composition ideas for the painting.

”What are you working on?” Ochaco walks in with two cups of hot chocolate, handing one to you. You smile and thank her, sipping on the warm drink.

”Trying out some composition for the painting. Pinpointing where everything is going to be you know”

“It’s ending soon right?” she asks, seating next to you.

“Actually, our teacher realized she may have been too hard on us and gave us the whole year.” you chuckle.

“Wait what— How come I didn't hear about this?!” she straightened herself.

“She sent us an email quite late in the night. Some sense got knocked in her head at 2am I guess” you laugh.

”That’s great! More time with Hanta” she elbows you and chuckles.

”Stop…” you say shyly, hiding your face with your hand.

—

“Do I look good?” you ask worriedly as you show off your outfit.

”For the hundredth time… Yes you look great” all three of your friends sigh dramatically.

You’ve been running around between your room, the bathroom and the living room to make sure you were looking good. You knew it had to be a simple hang out but couldn’t help the amount of stress you had inside you.

And before you knew it, the sound of the doorbell echoed in your apartment and the girls immediately went into hiding.

You shook your head at their silliness and went to open the door thinking to yourself. This is Hanta, it’s going to be fine, nothing is happening.

As you open the door, you see him standing there with a smirk on his face but you could see the crease between his eyebrows, indicating he was nervous.

He looks you up and down and you can see him gulp before taking a breath.

“Ready to go?”

“Been waiting forever” you walk out the door and roll your eyes teasingly and he guides you down to his car. Once you get there, he opens the door for you.

”What a gentleman we have there” you tease.

”You doubted it?”

”Never”

After a few minutes he parked his car in front of a quite big building.There was no indicative sign of what the building was, it only had two wide doors in the front. He gets out first and helps you out of the car.

”So what are we doing?”

”You’re so impatient, wait a few more seconds” he ruffles your hair.

”Well if you had texted me, maybe i wouldn’t be so lost. “your words come out a bit more bitter than you wanted to.

You walk through the reception with him and he grabs your hand and asks you to close your eyes.

”Hanta seriously…”

“Come on, hermosa just a few more seconds.” he pouts and you couldn’t resist.

Guiding you through a corridor, he opens the door and you can feel the breeze hitting you again in the face. He stops and walks behind you.

“You can open your eyes now”

You take a deep breath and open your eyes. You are greeted by an empty ice skating rink. No one, absolutely no one was here. Small lights were hanging all around the rink, you could hear a song quietly in the background that you recognise to be Just like Heaven by The Cure.

You turn your head to Hanta, mouth agape. You had no idea what to say, did he set everything up himself. Did he ask to privatize the whole ice rink for you two?

”Hanta this…this is absolutely crazy. Did— did you do that all by yourself?” you ask.

”Well I’ve had help but it was my idea yeah…” he rubs his neck nervously. “You like it?”

“Like it? Hanta I love it! This is incredible” you ran to his arms hugging him. He’s taken back but hugs you back almost instantly.

After breaking the embrace, he grabs your hand again.

“Shall we?”

“We shall.”

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You don’t think you’ve ever had that much fun before. This was truly like something out of a movie. You and Hanta were both skating for god knows how long, dancing along to the playlist he had made for the occasion and you couldn’t help but fall even more for the boy.

How could you not honestly. He’s all you had ever dreamed of and he keeps showing you that everyday. As you hold hands you can’t help but have a constant smile on your face.

Hanta kept glancing at you and his eyes softened anytime you looked at him with that sparkle in your eyes or with that pretty smile of yours. He keeps going back to the day you first met and how everything had evolved between the two of you ever since.

All thanks to that assignment you had been given. He never felt luckier than right now.

He spins you around just to hear that laugh he wishes to hear for the rest of his life. And as you continued to skate around, he let go of your hand and you slid away, without realizing he wasn’t by your side anymore.

The lights suddenly shut off but came back a second later, less bright this time. As you turn around, you see Hanta a bit further away from you and the song changes.

Can’t Take My Eyes of You by Frankie Valli begins playing at a low volume and you hide your face in your hands trying to hold in your chuckle and the warmth that was spreading to your cheeks.

Surely this wasn’t real right, you had to be dreaming.

When you look back up, Hanta was right in front of you. A dorky smile is present on his face as he holds a bouquet of flowers tightly in his hands.

You can’t help the wobbly smile that spreads across your face as you both stare at each other before Hanta begins talking.

“First of all I’m sorry for not texting you at all this weekend. I may have been as nervous as you and maybe even more because I wanted everything to be perfect.” He chuckles and you continue smiling at him.

”Fuck..uh” he struggled to find words when you looked at him like that.

“I don’t think I can hide how I feel anymore. Ever since we first met, you’ve been the only thing on my mind and I only wanted to get to know you more. The more time we spent together, the more this feeling grew.” he looks down before looking back up.

”You brighten up every single one of my days and…” he stops for a moment but you continue looking at him adoringly. Heart beating fast you think it might get out of your chest. It seems like time had stopped before he continued.

”I love you y/n… Te amo querida.”

You feel your eyes getting wet so you take your hand to wipe them away but you suddenly feel Hanta’s hand caress your cheek and wipe a falling tear with his thumb.

”You okay?” he asks worried.

You nod reassuringly. “Never been more okay.”

”I love you too Hanta” you respond back through a half chuckle and sob.

He softly puts down the bouquet before wrapping his arms around your waist, taking you off the ground and spinning you around. Surprising you as he still had his ice skates on. He puts you back on the ground and asks.

”Can I kiss you?”

”Of course you idiot”

I love you baby and if it’s quite alright I need you baby…

His hands held both of your cheeks tenderly before he plants his lips on yours. You were quick to wrap your hands around his neck, pulling him closer to you.

One of his hands slowly moved to wrap itself around your waist. Your mouths moving slowly in a perfect tender rhythm. He couldn’t pull away, you were too sweet for that. And as you moved your hands into his hair he felt like he was in heaven. You pulled away for a second to breathe and chuckle at your flushed faces before his lips found their way back to yours.

Snow was falling all around you and as the slow kisses turned fast you both got lost in the moment.

His lips finally parted from yours after a while. Panting and heavy breaths were all you were hearing as you looked at each other.

“Does that mean I’m yours mi amor” he breaks the silence.

“What do you think…”

”I don’t know, maybe it was just a friendly kiss.” he jokes.

”Oh you’re such an idiot. I hate you”

”You know you love me” he grins, pulling you closer if that was even possible.

“Yes. Yes I do”

—

After that, he wanted to immortalize this day. So Hanta brought you to the nearest photo booth and had you both take the cutest pictures ever.

“Come on this is going to be fun” he urges you.

You take off your coats and begin posing. You laugh and make the silliest faces. Bringing his face to yours, you pepper his cheek with kisses.

He drives you back to the apartment and both of you couldn’t keep your hands to yourself. You were still in his car, the only difference was that you were now sitting on his lap.

The kisses grew deeper and he couldn’t let go of you. He became obsessed the moment he had a taste of you. You tug slightly at his hair as you feel him bite your bottom lip before going back to kiss your already swollen lips.

“Hanta…” you whisper when you pull back from him.

”Yes mi vida…” He places soft kisses at the nape of your neck, eyes not leaving yours.

“It’s getting late. I should go” you caress his cheek.

”Already…what time is it?” He reaches for his phone and reads the time. 11:05pm.

Hanta groans and settles his head on your chest as you begin playing with his hair. Staying in that position for a few more minutes before you plant a small kiss on his head and get back to the passenger seat.

You put your coat back on and hear Hanta open his door. You get ready to get out with the bouquet in your hands but he beats you to it and opens your door before bending down and wrapping his arms behind your back and knees.

”Hanta, what are you—“ you make a small noise as he slightly adjusts you on his arms.

He closes the car door with his legs and locks it.

“Up you go” he smiles down at you and you roll your eyes.

He takes you up the stairs and to your front door. He sets you down and you search for your keys.

“Thank you for today Hanta” you say, opening the door quietly.

You set the bouquet on the table before turning back to him.

”I’ll see you soon” you wrap your arms around his shoulders and plant a sweet kiss on his lips one last time.

“Dream of me amor” he winks at you and steals another kiss before making his way to the stairs. You begin to turn around but stop yourself in your tracks when you see him kissing his hand and sending the “kiss” to you.

You chuckle quietly and mimic grabbing the kiss and planting it on your cheek and watch him smile like a little kid. Only then you truly go back to your apartment and close the door with a smile on your face.

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a/n i finished this at 2 am...i'm going to sleep hope you enjoy this longer part!

[faeruy]

Agatha All Along Episode 7 - "Death's Hand In Mine" Tarot Analysis Part 2

Part the Second - Here I’m gonna talk about three separate readings - the Reading Lilia starts for Billy, the 2 cards he draws, and Agatha’s spread. The latter two could theoretically be dismissed, because neither Billy or Agatha know what they’re doing or have any real intention as they’re doing the drawing. But that doesn’t mean they’re not worth looking at, because sometimes even without a specific intention, the cards could be trying to say something. Also because it’s fun to analyze, so why not?

If this is the first post of mine you're seeing, I am definitely an amateur, so it's possible I get some things wrongs. I have done analysis on other episodes, and also Lilia's True Reading, and links to that are at the bottom. So here we go:

Billy's Reading - The Traveler - The Magician - So he’s been associated with The Magician for awhile now, before the show even came out. Upright the card represents power, taking action, creativity, and resourcefulness, all things Billy has shone in spades. He has the power he inherited from Wanda, he’s consistently shown amazing problem-solving skills, and creative approaches to getting what he wants; which includes approaching Agatha in the first place. He has, and has always had, everything he needs to go after what he wants. Reversed also has some fitting aspects; untapped potential, lack of clarity, poor planning. He is an impulsive teen, after all, and struggles with controlling his full power - fitting well within his original question - namely “Am I William or Billy?”

What’s Missing - The Sun - This is interesting, because the Sun represents energy, enthusiasm, and success. It’s a super positive card. Even the Reversed is mild; basically a call from your inner child saying ‘come out and play’, although it also refers to feeling a bit down and experiencing temporary setbacks. Lilia calls out “reunion” ,and that catches Billy’s attention, but that’s not normally part of the reading of that card at all. The only thing I can think of is that Lilia is already seeing something in the reading; she’s seeing that what’s missing is a connection to William/Billy’s childhood, and the strongest representation of that is his brother Tommy.  Personality wise, Tommy fits the card very well - of the twins, he was more energetic and happy-go-lucky, and we associate him very strongly with Billy’s childhood. Not sure, entirely. It could just be that the writers decided to fudge the meaning a little, or a lot, for the desired effect, but they’ve been so good with the cards otherwise, and there’s better cards they could have chosen if they wanted one with reunion in it’s meaning. But lets look at what else this card could potentially mean for Billy. One is that, since the card is referencing Tommy, it could be an indication that his twin, wherever he is, is doing just fine. Happy, successful, full of energy. Or it could mean that, one of the reasons he doesn't know who he is, is because he’s missing something; confidence, enthusiasm, or even just the belief that he will be successful in his quest. Without the rest of the reading, it’s hard to tell. 

And we don’t get the rest of the reading. The Path Behind is drawn, but we don’t get to see what it is. It doesn’t really matter; we know what was on his Path Behind. Westview, Wanda, Vision, The Kaplans, and more recently Alice; the Knight of Wands. It could be any number of cards drawn, too many for me to even speculate, although it would have been fun to see. The rest of the cards aren’t even drawn; which is fair, most of the rest refer to Billy’s future and that would be spoilers. I guess we’ll find out!

Billy’s Draws - The Chariot and Seven of Swords Reversed. They don’t know the layout they’re playing with, so he’s just drawing randomly, and it’s a bit unclear who he’s drawing FOR. So let’s take it one at a time.

The Chariot - The way I kind of like to describe it is that it’s kind of a bulldozer of a card. It mostly represents determination, focus, victory, assertion, conquest. On the Reversed, it represents aggression, lack of control, and lack of direction. (Given that he pulled the card without intention, it would have been very fitting and VERY FUNNY if he had pulled it Reversed). It does speak to their state of mind at this point; there’s a focus to getting to the end of the Road and survive, and beat it, but there’s the chance that this determination is maybe misguided; they’re trying to brute-force their way through a trial that requires intuition and finesse. In my opinion, this card is a warning; they won’t win by being the Chariot. 

 Seven of Swords Reversed - Billy says the Reversed is the opposite of the Upright, but that's a simplification and shows just how inexperienced he is with reading Tarot. Reversed is a flip from the Upright, but it’s more like… it’s the same energy, but redirected. For example The Tower Upright represents destruction and chaos and upheaval, and it's kind of a violent card that way. The Reverse is equally about the chaos and upheaval, and violent in it’s own way, but it’s transformation, not destruction. In the case of Seven of Swords Reversed, which is what he draws, his interpretation is off because he expects it to be a matter of honesty being the opposite of deception. Upright is about deceit, betrayal, and selfishness - deceiving others. Take the same deceptive energy, but you flip it’s direction and you get self-deception- deceiving yourself, self-sabotage, which is what the Reversed actually represents. In this case, it could mean a couple of things. Taken with the Chariot, it continues the warning; their bull-headedness and single-minded focus on getting to end is only deceiving themselves into thinking they can do this without Lilia. It could be a card specific to Agatha - she is her own worst enemy, she uses deception as a mask and as protection, but she’s doing the most damage to herself. For Billy, it could also represent some of his imposter syndrome; he still doesn’t truly know who he is, and it’s an uncomfortable situation to be in. 

Agatha's draw - I had to pause the show to try and catch what she drew, but I think it's important. I’m not gonna go super in depth, but I do want to get a quick read, and see what it might be foreshadowing or telling us about Agatha. Note that other than drawing the Hanged Man second, I don't know the order she drew them, so I can't even begin to guess how they play together, or if it’s meant to be read the same way as Lilia would read them. I might take a guess on the two whose positions I know for sure, but otherwise I may ignore it. I think it’s also interesting to note that Agatha doesn’t put ANY of them directly into their correct space; they’re mostly readable as upright from Agatha’s position, but all of them are cocked, off true Upright or Reversed. Now of course, we know that’s because she doesn’t care about Tarot a whit, and isn’t thinking about it, but it could also indicate that any of these cards could be read as either.

Five of Wands - it is in fact the Five of Wands in the Traveler position, and man was that a tricky one to figure out, since most of it was covered up by the Ten of Swords. Luckily, they’re using the Rider-Waite deck, and there’s just enough showing that identifying the card was possible. Five of Wands is a combative card - competition, rivalry, strife, and disagreement, fighting for dominance. And outwardly, that’s Agatha all over. She’s abrasive, she likes to poke the bear, and she deliberately eggs people on, because let’s be real, she gains power that way. It’s not always a bad thing; she’s survived for so long because she’s competitive and they might have all died during Jen’s trial if she wasn’t so quick to snap Jen out of her funk. Reversed speaks to someone who internalizes their problems, and we all know Agatha would rather die than admit she has problems or needs help. So Agatha can definitely be the Five of Wands.

The Hanged Man - This is the one she drew second. Hanged Man represents taking a pause, looking at things from new perspectives and letting go. Reversed represents delays, stalling, indecision and crossroads. From what I can gather, this is telling Agatha that she needs to stop and take a look around her instead of barrelling through. She’s so unwilling to look at things from a new perspective, unwilling to let go of the things that have allowed her to survive and it’s not serving her anymore. At the moment, she’s stuck, and can’t go forward. The card is another warning, but it also gives her the solution; stop and breathe, and open up the mind to new possibilities. 

Clockwise from the Hanged Man, we have Two of Wands - discovery, progress, planning, moving forward, but on the Reversed, fear of the unknown, disorganization, lack of planning. It’s a card about taking a spark of inspiration and moving forward towards your goals. Fitting, actually, for how the journey started for Agatha; there was a spark of an idea; a decision to travel the Road, and the momentum to go for it, assemble the Coven, and start. But Agatha didn’t have a particularly clear goal in mind, other than getting power back and hiding from the Salem Seven, and that her progress forward has been haphazard, inefficient, and beset by problems. So far in her draws, its cards that are basically telling her to slow the everloving fuck down and actually think things through. 

Next up Wheel of Fortune - Highkey, my favorite card in the deck, and the one I associate most with. It’s a card about change; everything is in a cycle and everything is temporary, both good and bad luck. Upright speaks to destiny and good luck, but also that there are things changing outside your control and you just have to deal. Reversed, bad luck and resistance to change, but also breaking cycles, especially those that need to be broken. Both readings have their positive and negative connotations, but we’re here to talk about what it means for Agatha. Taking everything into account, I think what it means is that she is at a critical turning point; the Wheel can swing in any direction, and it’s gonna be up to her how she deals with it. She can meet her destiny head on, and maybe good luck will come her way, and if she chooses kindness, she can be met with kindness back. She could resist the changes about to happen, and be beset with problems, and the Wheel can swing negative. Or she could break the cycle entirely; break the cycle of trauma that kept her angry and jaded, break the cycle of abuse that kept witches persecuted for centuries, break the rules of the Road. Again. The Wheel also reminds us that even good fortune is temporary, and we should cherish it while it exists. At the moment, she has a Coven - she needs to embrace them while they’re still her Coven. 

Next - The World - Upright it refers to completion, integration, accomplishment, travel. Reversed; seeking personal closure, shortcuts, delays. This card feeds really nicely from the past cards; It talks about having achieved goals and feeling whole and potentially a greater understanding of the world around you. It’s a cycle that has come to a close, completed, a reassurance after the changeability of the Wheel of Fortune. But like some of the earlier cards, the Reversed suggests that while completion is near, there’s some obstacle, mostly self-imposed. Lack of focus, lack of planning, a desire for shortcuts and an easy road have led to hardship and not true achievement. It says that one should re-inspect their goals. It’s not hard to see how this can apply to Agatha - every trial, she’s been looking for the shortcut, for a cheat to get through the Road, which suggests that she’s been looking at it the wrong way, and she needs to figure out what her real goal for Road is. We’ve been given some indication she has unfinished business - that with Rio, and what happened to her son; and maybe her real purpose on the Road, whether she knows it or not, is to gain closure on that. 

Page of Swords is next, and its placement is why I haven’t spent a lot of time talking about how most of these cards relate to the “Safe Passage” layout. If she drew it properly, with The Traveler first, that means Hanged Man would be “What’s Missing” and we would land on this one as “Windfall”... which I have a really hard time reading that way. It’s a sword card, which is a high energy suit. Upright it refers to curiosity, energy, new phases, communication, new ideas. Reversed is haste, undelivered promises, unforeseen events. All talk, no action. Which, while the Reversed speaks to how Agatha has behaved on the road, and the promises she made to… well everyone in the Coven, I’m really not sure the other side applies. Perhaps it’s what she needs to do in order to avoid the pitfalls promised by the earlier cards? There is one other thing though; Page is a face card, and face cards could also refer to people in her life. And who does the Page describe pretty well? An aspiring witch like Billy. Maybe if she plays her cards right, at the end of the journey she could find herself with a mentee, a student to guide under her wing. It’s a tricky reading, and I’m really not sure about my interpretation there.

Finally, in the Destination - Ten of Swords. Agatha is going to lose. And Lose BADLY. Ten of Swords is all about hitting rock bottom, betrayal, deep wounds, and loss. There’s nothing left to do but pick yourself up and move forward. If it wasn’t clear which way the Wheel was going to swing earlier, this all but says it. If she’s lucky, the Reverse will also come into play; clarity and recovery. From the ashes of defeat, she could rise again, wiser, smarter, better. She could let go of all the old hurts and gain hope and a new sense of self and purpose. One can only hope.

There’s one more card I want to talk about. I’ve talked about it a few times already, but I want to mention it here. 

Lilia’s Final Card - The Tower Upright. Lilia, you absolute LEGEND. We've talked about this one a lot. But now everything makes sense - Why specify the Tower Reversed earlier? So that it could be turned Upright when needed. And what happens when you have an upright tower? Your world turns upside down. Lilia, always seeing the past and the future and the present, in the end, she made her own damn fate - she chose to face destruction and chaos head on because it saved her coven. And because she knows what her future has in store for her. It’s such a beautiful move from the writers; the setup and execution of it was perfect, and it shows just how much care and love were put into the characters, that Lilia got such a cool moment with one simple flip of a card. I just couldn’t end this analysis without touching on what was one of my favorite moments in an episode that was filled with so many of them. 

Anyways; that’s it for my analysis for now; there’s only two more episodes left and without Lilia shuttling back and forth between time, it’s unclear if we’ll get more tarot cards, but if anything pops up, I’ll be sure to talk about it. God knows, when I started this, I didn't actually think it would turn into a series, but here we are. It’s been an absolute pleasure getting to do a deep dive on the Tarot in the show, and doing a little bit of close-reading/media analysis within it. I feel like it’s also helped me understand Tarot a little bit better than I did before. I hope you’ve enjoyed it as much as I have!

Links to Past Posts

Episodes 1-3  Episode 4  Episode 5  Episode 6  Episode 7 part 1

[exorcqism]

„𝐇𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐆”

: ̗̀➛ 18+ CONTENT!!!

: ̗̀➛ afab!reader, lil bit of sex, nun too heavy. teasing, some whimpering, dom!reader. not proofread so i apologize in advance for any mistakes if they’re made.

: ̗̀➛ art creds by;; separuhpuding. dividers are not mine, if you own these, you may claim them in comments.

: ̗̀➛ WORD COUNT;; 3.1K

: ̗̀➛ plot aspects inspired by;; @selfishdoll (good ass writer,, i recommend)

* dark mode recommended

* do not copy this plot. i’m perfectly fine with inspirations but give creds. if this plot his stolen in any way, the post will be taken down and you will be blocked.

𝐃𝐀𝐊𝐎𝐓𝐀𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒 ✉️🖇️;; ngllll i was writing the smut in gym class. i was INTO it. but its nothing heavy…just a lil nasty nasty 🌚 this was my first time writing for choso BUT THIS MAN SO FINE. i hope ya enjoy ittttt

you and choso were roommates. it wasn’t surprising. you both went to the same college, you were good friends. nothing was wrong with that. but you were wondering what went wrong…why the two of you drifted apart.

“morning, choso!” you beamed at the 5’11 male sitting on the couch, his violet irises looking intently at his paper, loosely holding the pencil between his fingers. “Smoke Break-Dance” by JID played quietly on the speaker beside the tv, you noticed. you smiled a bit. choso must’ve been picking up on your music taste…or it was conveniently playing and he didn’t realize.

the male finally glanced up at you, registering your presence and lifted his hand, replacing actual words.

you plopped down beside him, making the side you sat on sink downward underneath him. his violet irises dragged to their left to look at you.

“whatcha doing?” you smile.

choso could never get over your soft voice and playful attitude. it always made him feel like he was doing something wrong. was he too boring? was it the fact that he hardly had any energy to do anything at all and he just laid around majority of the day? he didn’t know himself.

“writing…” he said quietly. “writing a poem…”

a couple months into your junior year of college was when he told you he loved you. he couldn’t explain himself but that’s what he was feeling all that time you stayed with him.

when you came around, he had a weird feeling in his chest when he saw you.

‘this body is betraying me’ he thought. he thought it was odd to be feeling this way about a human. a woman at that.

choso was a bit possessive of you. he enjoyed your company but grimaced at the men that came into your vicinity. the male watched from a distance, swallowing his urge to burst into a fit of rage but it would completely ruin his calm image.

“it’s fine,” yuji shrugged, waving his hand at his big brother, “that’s your girl, of course you’d be upset at another dude talking to her. it’s completely fine. don’t get so aggy.”

choso was happy to have his little brother, yuji there to comfort him when we was too nervous to confront you about the situation. from simple situations like this all the way to why he had an odd feeling between his legs when he kissed you. he didn’t think the rod that hung down in his lower area would be used for more than just using the bathroom….until yuji said so.

your “first time” was pretty interesting. it consisted of choso asking you if you were okay or if he was doing it right, to which you replied “yes” each time followed by a moan. you were wondering if he had done this before but you chose not to get into it.

more time goes by and then that’s when you realized that you were drifting apart.

choso was pursuing a career in art. drawing realistic portraits, using his heaven sent abilities to make drawings that looked like davinci had created them.

you were attempting to be a nurse, so you were off campus a lot, spending time at other hospitals to do “hands on” learning. neither of you had much time to talk to each other, though you sent texts back and forth assuring each other that everything was okay.

choso’s pupils retracted, hearing the sudden news of you wanting to break up with him. it was like he was going into shock.

“don’t you understand how much it would hurt me to see you go?” he said, his deep voice breaking. you never heard him sound so broken before. the moment almost made you cry yourself. the male gently took your hands, his sad eyes looking into yours, searching for an answer. but there was nothing.

“Y/N please…” you felt his grip on your hands get a bit tighter. you kept your head down, avoiding eye contact with him to refrain from making yourself cry in front of him.

you were gone and that was the end of it. you left your favorite person with his heart hurting, making him feel like he had to throw up. it was like his whole world had went cold, now that you weren’t in it.

two years passed and you haven’t seen choso. you were starting to forget about him. there were some physical features about him that you forgot too…like the way he looked bored all the time or the fact that he always had his hair in two buns and occasionally letting it all the way down.

you went on about your day while choso was probably in his room crying his eyes out, falling into a depression.

you heard a knock at your apartment door. you were confused at first because you weren’t expecting anyone to come over and a select few people knew where you lived. you put on a pair of joggers after walking around in nothing but an oversized hoodie and a pair of ankle socks.

the moment you opened the door, a set of hands clasped onto your waist like a corset and pulled you closer to the owner of those said hands. you were pulled into a really tight hug.

you melted in this person’s arms. their touch, the way they smelled, their warmth…you missed it. your arms wrapped around them, returning that hug. you could feel your scleras burning as tears began to form in your eyes.

memories of choso flooded back into your mind like a tsunami consuming an entire city. salty lines of tears slid down your cheeks and you held the male a bit tighter than he was holding you.

“i’m so sorry, cho.” you cried. “i didn’t mean to hurt you the way i did. i didn’t know what i was doing and—”

you were immediately cut off by a kiss. you had a storm of emotions swirling through your body, your eyes traveled up to the male after he pulled away from you.

a tired smile was flashed at you before you heard him say something just above a whisper, his deep voice startling you a bit.

you forgot about that.

“don’t apologize.”

“but i left you alone for so long. you aren’t upset? you not feeling some type of way about me?” your voice shaking from your recent crying.

“no, i’m not angry.” choso said, his hand sliding down your arm to hold yours. “it’s been two years…and i waited until you were ready.”

“i was told that i should be patient and i shouldn’t try to hold you back.” he added but his words only made you cry even more. he waited for you? he could’ve found so many other women and he waited two years for you?

“why did you wait? you could’ve found someone else to replace me, you know that?”

the violet eyed male just shrugged. “loyalty. if you needed a century, i’ll wait for you.” choso’s loyalty was that of a dog waiting for its owner to return after being gone for hours on end.

having nine other brothers, choso knew what loyalty was and it was something he valued heavily. but most importantly, he valued you. your safety. everything.

“good job, cho!” yuji grinned as he threw his arm around the taller male’s waist. choso’s head swung around, his hair flowing with him and looked at the other, feeling a bit embarrassed.

“i knew you could do it.” he continued.

“why are you even here…?” choso queried, putting on his awkward smile. you just watched with a smile on your face as the pair of brothers chattered until it faded into playful bickering.

later that day, you and choso were at your apartment, in your bedroom relaxing after yuji convinced the two of you to hang out with him for the day. choso was reading a book called “The Art of War”. you enjoyed when he read aloud to you. even though you were getting a bit bored, you didn’t wanna tell him that.

you were getting impatient. needy even. you missed being so close to him and being touched by his hands that looked two times the size of yours. abruptly, the book closes before choso would kiss you passionately as if something had possessed him. his lips were pressing against yours. he didn't say anything, his breath was heavy. everything was blurry to him.

choso held you tight against him, his hands moving to caress your waist. he was no longer thinking straight. he kept kissing you. he was drunk off of the feeling. but he cared about your lips. they were soft and plushy. he couldn’t even remember the last time he felt something as good as this.

soon, his hands moved to your neck. he caressed your throat, tenderly. his head was swimming, filled only by the feelings he had for you. kissing turned into biting, and biting turned into licking, and licking turned into kissing again. his lips were everywhere on your body. all he wanted was you.

there was no talking anymore. only the sound of the two of you breathing. you were breathing fast, filled with excitement. the way choso was looking at you was driving you crazy. he wanted you just as much as you wanted him.

he was caressing you from top to bottom, his lips kissing every part of you. it was...perfect. he was yours, you were his. it made sense. what else did you need?

“you're so beautiful..." he whispered. “...so perfect.”

you felt his bare chest against yours. his body was hot. it felt incredible. you were lost in the pleasure, and there was no returning. it was too late to stop. choso wanted you and you wanted him. It was too good to be true. his hands were touching you everywhere, teasing you, making your blood pump faster, making you moan.

he made you moan loudly. his lips and tongue were everywhere. your whole body was shaking. everything felt amazing. every sensation was magnified by a hundred. the smell of his skin, his voice, his moans in your ear...it made you feel like you were going to go insane.

the male was holding both of your wrists. he was looking at you with lust. he didn't care about anything else. you were feeling so good you were unable to think anymore. your heart was pumping like crazy, your legs were shaking.

he kissed your neck, your collarbone, your breasts. his hands were everywhere on your body. he wanted you badly. he couldn't control himself. he was all over you. he didn't care if it was a little dirty. his hands were exploring every inch of your body, making you moan and scream loudly.

he took off your clothes while his eyes kept scanning your body. soon, you were both naked. you looked at each other's body with lust and excitement. you knew how right this was. nothing else mattered. all of your senses were focused on this moment.

the room was flooded with the sound of both your moans and your breathing. your body was hot, your mind was fuzzy. you were not yourself anymore. you were a different being, full of sensuality.

choso was looming over you now, looking down at you with burning passion in his eyes. he was holding your wrists tightly and staring at you, his muscles twitching, as if he was imagining what he'd do to you. you could feel his breath on your neck, your collarbone... you could smell him.

his fingers were kneading your skin, his hands were sliding all over your body. he wanted to possess you. he was devouring you, slowly, passionately, thoroughly. his hands were feeling you, exploring you, learning you. he was learning how your body was shaped all over again, to better pleasure you.

he was slowly moving his tongue against your thighs now, kissing his way up your body. your heart was beating faster and faster. you could hardly breathe. he was taking his time, but he wasn't playing games with you. he wanted you to enjoy this.

he was caressing your inner thighs, kissing them, licking them, making your legs shake. you couldn't remain silent anymore. you were overwhelmed by desire. he was in control, controlling you in the most delicate way possible, making you surrender to his will.

you began reaching down to choso’s lower area, gently caressing the length that he had been hiding from her. you bit your lip as you stared in awe and pure excitement.

he had no words. his lips were quivering as he stared at you. he was feeling you, feeling your desire. he wasn't thinking about anything else in this moment. he was in awe, in total disbelief. he was breathing furiously as he looked at your hand, moving slowly down.

he closed his eyes, unable to bear the intensity of the situation. a moment later, he opened his eyes, staring at you. his expression was intense. his face was flushed. he wasn't saying anything. all he could do was stare at your hand, moving so slowly up and down...

you moved your hand away for a moment, teasing your partner. choso couldn't help but moan loudly, feeling his heart pound so aggressively. he was addicted to your touch.

he looked at your face, still flushed, wanting to see you enjoying this moment as much as he was. your hand was moving up and down again, so slowly and... so seductively. it was too much for him, but you weren't stopping. you wanted to see him beg.

he could feel it. he was so close to the edge. his whole body was shaking, his breath was rapid. he was holding his breath, unable to control himself. It was taking so long, it was too much for him. he wanted you so badly, and you were making him wait. and you were enjoying it all.

he was so desperate, so hot, so ready to explode any second now. he was looking at you with pleading eyes.

"Y/N... i can't... anymore..." you heard choso mumble.

your eyes narrowed. he was yours, and you were in control. you were loving every second of it. you put your hand back on him and looked at him with a mischievous smile.

“wait a little bit more,” you said, still keeping your hand moving up and down. your free hand went to his mouth to stop him from talking. “be a good boy for me.” you added, with a sultry voice.

he was almost begging you to stop at this point. you were torturing him, playing with him. you had absolute power over him, and you loved it. you didn't want to give in just yet. you were playing with him, enjoying every second of it. it was such a thrilling feeling. you wanted him to suffer a little longer.

he was holding himself, trying to remain calm. the sensation was getting to his head. it was too much. he was starting to feel weak, his legs were trembling, and his hand was shaking.

he was shaking. he tried to move, to get away from your hand, but you were stronger. you held him tight. you were making him wait for your final touch, making him beg for it. he was so vulnerable, so at your mercy.

he was losing control, not able to think, not able to say anything. his breath was racing, his body was shaking, his mind was empty. all he could feel was you. your hand touching him, teasing him, driving him crazy.

choso was breathing heavily, trying to make sense of what was happening to him. he couldn't take it anymore. he turned his head away, hiding his trembling body. his body felt overwhelmed, so close to the edge.

“i can't... please,” he mumbled, his voice barely understandable through the moan. his eyes were closed tight, his face buried in the pillow.

you felt like the goddess of lust, controlling choso’s mind and body, as if he was a puppet in your hands. his voice, his breath, his body were all yours to control. you had broken him, and you were loving it. your whole body was shaking, just a lot less than his, but you still felt incredibly empowered.

you put your hand down again, but you didn't move it anymore. you kept it on him, looking at his face. “not yet,” you whispered.

choso was breathing fast, staring at you. his eyes were so full of lust, desire and love. he could barely move, his body was so tense, so close to the edge, shaking as if he was about to explode.

you were in complete control of his body and of his mind. you were enjoying this. watching him like this, looking at you, wanting you... it was delicious.

you could do anything you wanted with this weak and sensitive boy. literally anything. you could make him beg, you could make him shout. you could do whatever you wanted with him.

your hand was still touching his body. you kept looking at his face, drinking his expressions of love, lust and desire. you were loving watching him like this, enjoying your power over him.

you moved your free hand up to his face, caressing his cheek. you could feel his breath on your skin. he was trying so hard to remain still, but you could see he was shaking, his body so tense.

“don't move,” you whispered to him, with a provocative smile on your face. “stay still for me, boy.”

his heart was beating so fast. he was saying your name like it was the only thing he knew. he was looking at you, but he could hardly keep his eyes open. tears welled up in his eyes from pleasure. he physically couldn’t handle it but he wanted more of it. how could he resist you? you made him feel so weak in this situation. he felt dizzy. his entire body feeling numb.

soon enough, ropes of white substance spewed from his manhood and he was completely out of breath. choso laid down on top of you and you moved your hand away from him, putting your arms around him.

he’d kiss your lips gently before tucking his head into your neck and closing his eyes.

“i missed you so much.” he said quietly.

“i missed you too.” you replied before your eyes closed, falling asleep after your high died down.

𝐄𝐍𝐃.

⋆｡࿇ ·࣭࣪̇˖ 𖦹°༅༚

[vasiktomis]

Overqualified (Choso x F!Reader, 18+)

Summary: A series of vignettes over the course of which you decide you're actually pretty cool with the idea of giving Choso head.

Rating: Explicit (Minors do NOT interact). Word Count: ~7300. Tags/Warnings: Female Pronouns and Anatomy for Reader, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, First Time Blow Jobs, Social Anxiety, Vomiting (not part of the sex stuff I swear but icks are icks), Angst, Misunderstandings, Oral Sex, Mentions of Non-Con but No Descriptions. Canon-variant, nobody’s dead, everyone’s fine etc etc. Read it on Ao3 Here!

“You’re kidding, right?”

You’re all too familiar with how curses wear their expressions when they become powerful enough to learn to make them. 

In your line of work — at the level you’ve risen to — you’re often stuck with the ones that take human form. The ones that learn to mimic sounds and words and mannerisms. You’ve watched time and time again, the intelligence that forms in First and Special-grades that allows them to appear so convincingly human in such a short period of time. You learned the hard way early in your career, what it’s like to fall for the act and take pity on a curse. You’ve lost kind people to the trap of sentiment. 

You became wise to it; despite all that intelligence that came with such a degree of power, curses bore an unquenchable drive to harm humans.

You learned to see through the pleading. The crying. High-level curses learning to comprehend terror changes nothing. When you despatch them, it changes nothing. No matter how they beg for mercy, the instinct to kill you never ceases. 

It’s in their eyes, you learn.

It’s in his eyes, when the remaining students and teachers at Shibuya bring him home to Jujutsu High. A Death Painting Womb. A half-curse. You don’t need to hear the human half of it. Your mind’s made up the moment they put you in the same room as him, ordered in spite of all your protests not to kill him where he stands. He won’t harm the Itadori kid, you’re assured. The kid is safe with him. 

Choso.

You can’t even believe he’s got a name.

He sticks to the boy’s side, insisting their blood-relation while he glances about his environment with baby-fresh eyes. He’s a curse in the way he takes in information. Everything is new. Every emotion he feels borders on fresh.

Brow knitted. Jaw set. The dozens of little muscles around his mouth tighten. His eyes don’t blink for their minutes of fixation. Not until his attention is called away and Itadori leaves the room, beckoning him to follow. 

It’s in his eyes. You won’t be fooled.

He watches you like he wants to kill you.

_________________________________

Your orders keep you from destroying Choso. They force you to co-exist with your guard consistently up, and as the weeks draw on, your exhaustion builds. You manage to steer clear of him for a good month before Tsukumo weighs in with a surprisingly high opinion of him. Drinking buddies? Fuck off. That’s your job. You’re not going to be muscled out of your place at her side.

You’re confident in her opinion, of course. But it doesn’t change yours. Weakened resolve be damned — there’s no way you’re letting yourself be in the same room as him again.

…

Still, you suppose it couldn’t hurt humouring her suggestions for you to tolerate him. It’s not like you need to do much more than that. If somehow you turn out to be wrong and she starts buying free rounds for a curse instead of you, you wouldn’t be able to live with yourself. 

It’s a rainy day lunchtime when you force yourself to approach the man, holding your lunch tray over your torso in the event he makes a jab for your internal organs as you join the line. 

He glances at you once. Twice. Aborting a too-late attempt to reach for a rice bowl when you snatch one from the warmer and take a step forward to force him along.

Fear. Good. He’s learned fear. 

Your tongue readies in your mouth. Your throat runs dry. 

“Shitty weather.” You manage.

His head whips around. Eyes bug out of his skull as he turns to regard you. There’s that clench in his jaw again. 

Choso does not respond. His posture changes, dipping down. Momentarily, you ready yourself for an attack, flinching to keep yourself from countering when he makes a sudden lurch for as many items he can reach. Shoving them onto his tray. Half a cup of steaming miso soup spills into his sleeve as he reels back and around you, storming out of the line without a word. 

You eat your lunch at the window. Watching as he eats his on a step in the pouring rain, glaring into the middle-distance. 

He must know you’re onto him.

_________________________________

The weeks drag on. Somehow, it feels simultaneously like your every move on campus grounds is watched by the half-curse while your every attempt to observe him close up is met with a hurried getaway. 

By social means, Choso develops quickly. He still spends most of his time by Itadori’s side, but he begins to branch out. Much to your chagrin, the staff warm to him, too.

It isn’t long until they have the kid hooked up to you, much like Nanami’s old role before his run-in with the disaster curses knocked enough sense into him to go part-time. It pissed you off the first you hear about it; it had to be Choso’s doing. He must have known that you’d had it out for him and he was going to try his luck separating you from your peers after gaining Itadori’s trust.

You knew it. He was plotting to kill you.

Then, you find out that it was Itadori who’d requested you as a mentor, and the wind gets knocked out of your sails pretty fast. 

It starts with a “Teacher!” Bellowed across the walkway. You’re hunched over, sipping from a faulty water fountain that the students seem to find great entertainment shoving twigs into to mess with the pressure. You know the kid’s voice well enough that embarrassment creeps up the back of your neck. 

You straighten out, wiping your mouth on your sleeve, angling to look a little less lame after being caught at the mercy of a shitty fountain. “Itadori.” You greet the approaching boy. The only acknowledgement you offer his company is in your periphery. Were it not so rude, you’d close one eye so that you only have to look at the kid while you regard them. “Looks like you’re my new protege.”

There’s a pause.

Itadori looks between you and Choso, waiting for the two of you to exchange your own greetings. 

It doesn’t happen.

More and more, Choso watches you with those unblinking eyes. Your focus is drawn. Minutely, you realise, he’s trembling. 

“You — you know! It occurred to me that you haven’t properly met my half-brother.” Itadori ventures to break the ice. “Figured it would be nice for you two to know one another if we’re going to be learning from you.”

We’re.

You’re not a two-for-one deal. You never agreed to help train a curse. 

“You don’t say.” You mutter, finally meeting Choso’s eye. Alright, then. Just because you like the kid, you’ll humour him. “Hey.”

There’s no answer. Not right away. Not until there’s an elbow nudging at Choso’s ribs. His adam’s apple bobs in a visible gulp. 

“H-“

That’s all he manages before a mouthful of bile sprays out of his mouth. He has good reaction time, you’ll give him that. But it doesn’t help his cause. It just spills between his fingers as he tries to cover his face. You’d liken it to placing one’s thumb over a garden hose.

Itadori, meanwhile, springs into a panicked attempt to get between the two of you, shielding Choso from view with his body. “Haha! Okay! Great, so we’ll be seeing you!” He exclaims, alternating between leading his doubled-over brother back the way they came and waving at you. 

Once again, you watch. Once again, perplexed. 

“That was good, but it could have gone better. Next time, don’t throw up, okay?”

Anxiety vomiting.

Huh.

You’ll admit — this is a first. 

_________________________________

Okay, maybe he’s not so bad.

Sure, he can hardly formulate a sentence around you, but at least the lack of interjection makes it easier to focus on Itadori’s development. Is Choso’s presence a constant irritation? Absolutely, but not unlike his little brother, you grow accustomed to his presence. That’s not to say that you’d ever grow to care for him to the same extent you do Itadori. In fact, the only reason you keep your trap shut about having him along for the ride is for the kid’s sake. 

One thing that does start to irk you, however — even moreso than being stuck with a half-fucking-curse in your downtime, is how quickly Choso develops an opinion on your teaching style.

Rather, how critical he becomes of it. 

First, there’s a huff. A sharp exhale out his nose marking disdain when you call Itadori back to rest. It builds from there. Pointed looks. Scoffs. A subtle rolling of his eyes when you snap at the kid to watch his blind spots over the passing weeks.

You’re sure you might end up killing him unprompted at this rate. 

“You ought to praise him more.” Is the first full sentence he manages to get through when you’re alone with him. Itadori has left the two of you alone in a booth at CoCo Curry to excuse himself to the bathroom, and Choso jumps at the opportunity to level his criticism at you.

It’s a miracle he’s even speaking to you at all, you think at first.

Then, once you’ve registered what he’s said, you think it’s a miracle you managed to refrain from bringing your spoon down through his hand.

“Excuse me?” You seethe. “For your information, he does this every time. He always picks extra hot. He always empties the shaker when it gets brought out. He’s always shocked when he has to run off and shit himself before he’s halfway done.”

“I know that. His courage is unmatched.” Choso bites back, twisting in his seat to face you. “That’s not what I’m talking about. You’re too harsh on him in training.”

Where is all this bravery coming from all of a sudden? Is this really how protective he gets around the kid?

How misplaced. How sentimental. If you weren’t a sorcerer you might be moved by what comes off as brotherly affection.

You won’t  fall for it. 

A snarl curls at your lip. “Where do you get off, talking to me? You wanna give me life advice next? Wanna apply for my job? How many months have you been living outside a test tube, huh?”

“I’m only talking to you because I’m looking out for him.” He glares.

“Yeah, you and me both.” You dismiss him. “Look. I’ve got big shoes to fill. Itadori’s last mentor was hard on him. He’s closer to that guy than I could ever hope to be, but at least I know he listens to me when I boss him around. I’d rather the kid be covering his bases and coming home to me alive, than letting too much praise to go his head and getting him killed."

Choso doesn’t reply for a moment. His gaze remains hard, bottom jaw jutting out like a petulant kid. After a moment, he breaks away, redirecting his glare down at his emptied bowl. 

“He respects you a lot. He looks up to you.” The man mumbles, crossing his arms and sinking down in the booth. “Please praise him.”

The two of you sit in stubborn silence for the better part of half an hour, until your student returns from the bathroom with an exhilarated huff. You can practically see the stink lines radiating off him.

“Whew!” The kid exclaims, throwing himself down beside Choso. “Aw man, my food’s probably cold.”

Yeah, whose fault is that. 

“Hey. Itadori.” You grumble, earning the kid’s attention.

“Hm?” He perks up, mouth full. 

“You did well today.”

You’ve turned your attention to the menu, scouring a drinks menu you’re far too full to even consider ordering.

In your periphery, Choso sits up a little.

_________________________________

You don’t make a secret of where you live. In the Jujutsu world, generally speaking (with Tsukumo being an enigmatic exception), the more secretive one tries to be about their lifestyle, the more curious it makes everyone else. You watched Nanami learn this the hard way after his return to the job and the sheer effort he put in for a while there to ensure no one knew how to contact him outside of work hours.

Of course, everyone wound up with his landline number and personal address whether any of you visit him of not. 

It helps, having everyone generally know where they stand with you, anyway. ‘Emergencies only’ tends to be your rule. Approachable on campus and on the street, but home time is home time. Only show up if you’re in need of help. Or if you’re bringing free stuff.

So imagine your surprise when you open your front door and find Choso of all people, not at eye-level, but on his knees at your feet, forehead stamped to the doormat.

“What the fu-“

“Forgive me.” The man’s voice wobbles. He doesn’t move from the bow. You take the opportunity to look right. Left. Right again. Scanning for Itadori to come bounding over to escort him away from you once more.

Today, Choso is alone, but the thought of being attacked by him has dimmed to embers by now. You’ll chide yourself for it later, you think. 

Right now, you’re more concerned with not drawing too much attention from the neighbours. 

“Woah. Hey.” You crouch down. Choso flinches at your fingertips brushing his shoulder blade, but he doesn’t withdraw. Once again, he just starts trembling. 

Man, he really is the sensitive sort.

He better not throw up again. Not while you’re close enough to be in the firing line. 

“Forgive me.” Choso repeats. “I’ve been rude to you. I’ll try harder from now on. Let me redeem myself.”

“Okay! Okay, you’re forgiven, you’re redeemed. Now would you get up? I wipe my feet on that mat.” You hiss, tugging at his sleeve. This time, he gets the hint, getting to his feet and regarding you with an expression resembling hopeful and a patch of grit on his forehead. 

In spite of all the confusion, you’ll admit, he’s cute. In a — born sexy yesterday  kind of way.

In spite of yourself, you tug at his sleeve, taking the opportunity to rub the crap off his head. “Come inside before people get the wrong idea. You want a drink?”

“No, I’d throw up again.”

“It’s not that I don’t appreciate your candor…—“ You trail, gesturing for him to take a seat on your couch. He does as instructed, scanning your apartment from left to right, committing it to memory. “Do I freak you out that much?”

Choso doesn’t mince his words. He isn’t learned enough quite yet to beat around the bush. Maybe he might not be the type, regardless. “Yes.” He nods, avoiding your gaze in favour of staring at your reflection on the TV screen. “You have every right to feel uncomfortable around me, but I want your permission to be honest.”

Frowning, you incline your head in acknowledgement. 

It’s almost like it’s the answer he didn’t want. All of a sudden, he’s not even capable of looking at your reflection. He seats himself on your couch and rubs his thumb into his palm. Holding his own hand. “I have awful feelings toward you.”

Something pricks at the base of your skull. Your eyebrows shoot up. Is this finally it? Is this your moment of vindication? Is he finally going to admit he wants to kill you?

“How awful are we talking?” You prod.

”Terrible.”

Your gaze flits around the living room for something to imbue, just in the event that he does pounce. “Uhhh, go on. I’m listening.”

“Looking at you makes me queasy.”

You abort an attempt to reach for your shark-grabber, reconsidering its promotion from TV remote reaching. “Harsh.”

“Were it not for the possibility of disappointing Yuji, I don’t know how else I’d be capable of controlling it. If I hurt you, he’d never speak to me again.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re trying to put a lid on it—“

“You’ve been putting in a lot of effort to tolerate me just so you can help make sure Yuji is okay, and I haven’t given you the same kindness. You’re good to him. It intimidates me.”

Okay, this is taking a weird turn-

“—I just can’t stop thinking about you.”

…

Heat creeps up your neck and into your ears.

“Oh.” You breathe, chest tightening as the realisation dawns on you. 

Ohh, you get it now. Despite the deviation, Choso looks guilty enough that he may as well have admitted to wanting to kill you after all. 

You swallow your pride, sitting down beside him on the couch. “You have a crush on me.”

His brow furrows. There’s that stare again. “I’m sorry. I’m not sure how to handle it. I don’t know what I should do.”

This whole time, it wasn’t aggression he’s been dealing with.

It was attraction.

“It’s okay.” You assure him for once, orbiting a fine line between emotional whiplash, awkwardness, and flattered sort of accomplishment. “You don’t need to do anything. People get crushes, it’s normal.”

People. It’s a person thing. There’s nothing cursed to it. Guilt pools in your gut. Just how nasty have you been toward the guy? Of course you’ve been freaking him out; he’s been catching up with the world this whole time and all you’ve done is make things harder on him.

And he still holds you in high enough regard to seek guidance from you, despite how embarrassing this must be?

“So what do I do?”

It’s not like there’s much of a choice. It’s not like you’ve really analysed your own feelings toward this man beyond bare tolerance at best — but you owe it to him to be sensible. You owe it to him to be a little more merciful than you would, even to a full-blooded human. Were he another sorcerer, you’d probably tell him to fuck off. Stop wasting your time. But he’s trusting you with a first that’s been torturing him.

He’s handsome, sure — but you don’t even know if you’re capable of trusting him not to end your life despite all he’s said. A single conversation can’t undo everything you’ve learned to feel.

“Well, if you wanna spare us both the discomfort, you could try asking another dude about how to handle it.” You suggest, casually as you can muster. “Not your teenage brother. Find an adult.”

Choso nods. You sense his tongue shifting behind his teeth. Considering asking why not you? But he seems to realise the implications by sheer instinct. The kind of conversation he needs to have can’t be with you. Not without altering your relationship before it can even find its feet. 

“Yeah.” He agrees, not quite able to hold eye contact with you for more than a few seconds at a time. “I’ll do my best.”

You’re getting sick of this. You’ve never heard such sincerity in your life. 

Oh, fine. 

You offer him a smile. Another first.

You’d fuck him.

_________________________________

You could never get sick of this.

“Saved you a spot.” Choso’s platforms lift off the seat beside him before you have a chance to notice the half-dozen empty alternatives. You do, however, become painfully aware that you’d been on your way to sit beside him anyway. There are plenty of alternatives. Years-long professional and personal relationships scattered all around the room, but your recent months with this one in particular have made him a begrudging favourite.

“Yeah, yeah.” You grumble, slumping down with a huff.

He’s been ten times easier to handle since your little deep-and-meaningful. As much as you hate to admit it, he’s actually been kind of a cool guy to hang around. 

As much as you hate to admit it, you can’t help but indulge in the idea that it’s probably all the jerking off he’s likely been doing. Nevertheless, as far as your increasing curiosity imagines, he hasn’t broached the topic with you since. 

“Bring my Kagome?” Choso asks, prompting you to hand him your bag to search through.

“Didn’t miss anything, did I?” You ask.

“Competition’s started, but no one’s made contact yet.” Utahime answers from up front, not bothering to break away from the screens showcasing the exchange event’s progress.

Beside her, Gojo sinks further into his seat. His head lolls against the arm rest. “It’s so boring in here with you lot. Hey, Utahime, why don’t you embarrass yourself for everyone’s entertainment?“

The ensuing squabbling is quickly dulled to you as Choso hands your bag back, stabbing a straw into the juicebox he’s withdrawn. Both of you watch the screens, looking for your protege in particular. 

“Yuji’s trying to group up with the other Tokyo kids.” Choso mentions, fingers brushing yours without flinching when you hand the box back after he offers.

“He knows he doesn’t have to do that, right?”

”Depends on how bored he gets on his own.”

Your comment causes Gojo’s head to dip back, angling his attention at you. His mouth opens, but no sound escapes him. 

His attention shifts to the side of you. 

“Hey, why does he get a juice?”

“Pipe down and watch the competition!” Utahime barks at him. Curiosity draws her attention up and back to you, however, gaze dropping to the drink in Choso’s hand. “Hey — is that berry salad?”

“Berry salad!” Gojo whines. “C’mon, share.”

You watch in your periphery as Choso leans forward, and the two up front stretch out an arm each. Gojo’s spindly limbs have poor Utahime beat, but Choso carries the prize just barely out of the man’s reach.

He holds it out to you instead.

You don't even mind that half the sip is backwash. It's nice being the favourite of your favourite.

One of these days you really ought to blow him.

_________________________________

The doorbell rings.

Habit has conditioned you to expect Choso at your door. When you open it, however, you’re made aware of two surprises: a plummeting excitement that had no right building in the first place that the person bowing at your front step isn’t the man in question, and secondly, that it’s his brother, your protege that stands in his place.

“Oh, for the love of-“

“Teacher!” Itadori exclaims, bent from the hip at a perfect right-angle. “Please date my brother!”

…

What the hell is wrong  with this family?

Your throat closes on itself as you claw for a response that doesn’t involve punching this poor child in the back of his head. “Wha—! Who told you I — get off my property!” You bark, heat flushing your ears.

“I thought you rented.” Itadori straightens, confusion tugging an eyebrow up.

“That’s beside the point.”

Then he’s dropping right back down again. “Please date Choso!”

Choso. What’s he been telling the kid? Did he go back on his word and seek relationship advice from a teenager? Is he trying to kill you after all?

“What gives?!” You snarl down at him. “I’m your mentor! Would you pull this kinda shit with Nanami?”

“To be fair, Nanami is the one person I wouldn’t pull this with.” Itadori protests, holding his hands up in defense. “Date my brother!” 

“Agh!” With that, you slam the door on the kid. “Learn some damn respect! Jeez, I’m starting to get where Utahime’s coming from.”

There’s a grumble behind the wood. A defeat well-picked.

“Fine. See you tomorrow.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose. “Yeah, yeah. Think about what you want for lunch.”

_________________________________

The moment you wrap the training day and send the kid on his way, you snatch at Choso’s sleeve before he can shuffle off after his brother. “What the hell did you tell him!”

The man flinches at your touch. He frowns hard. “I didn’t tell him anything.” He grunts back, shrugging uncomfortably away from you. “You told me not to. Why are you mad?”

“Don’t jump to calling women angry. It’s anti-feminist.”

It doesn’t immediately occur to you that with just yourself and Tsukumo being the only adult women Choso knows, he probably hasn’t had much interaction with the women’s rights movement. Nevertheless, he runs with it.

“Okay. You’re not mad.”

“I am  mad! Why’s your little brother knocking on my door telling me to go out with you, huh?”

“What?!” Choso whips around, regarding you with terror. “Yuji?! I only talked to Ino-“

Your fist collides with your palm. “Ino!”  You seethe, content to settle on such a target, at least until Choso taps his index fingers together. Almost…like he’s counting. 

“— and he gave me some advice, but he couldn’t help me with one question I had. So I asked Ijichi, but he didn’t have an answer for me, either. So then I asked Tsukumo, and she couldn’t —“

Great, just great, you think, zoning out while the man continues to list off the names of almost every adult you interact with on a regular basis — the entire faculty staff and beyond know. Serves you right for trusting any one of those jackasses to keep a secret from a child.

You relent, if not at his sincerity, then at least just to escape the roll-call. “Okay. It’s fine. It’s all right. We’ll figure it out.” You sigh. “In any case, did you get an answer for your question?”

Choso pauses. Averts his gaze. “No. Well, Nanami gave me an answer he said works, but it’s not something I want to do.”

“…Can I help?” You offer.

“You said-“

“I know, but you’ve exhausted your other options.”

The look on his face is nothing short of defeated. You are not  the person he wanted to have to ask. 

“Can I take a raincheck?” Choso asks.

You touch a hand to his arm, an assurance of support. After how many months of progress, he shifts away from contact for a second time today.

Months ago, you would have felt relieved by such a rejection; now, it pools hollow and worrisome in your gut.

Something’s changed. 

“Yeah. It’s fine.” You lie. 

_________________________________

Weeks pass. It feels like an eternity.

You’re beginning to adjust to walking just yourself home again.

Choso seems to make himself scarce in your life what ever way he can, and where he can’t, he puts as much distance between himself and you as possible. He doesn’t look at you anymore. He doesn’t speak to you. You’re not the sort to reach out; you’re plenty used to people disappearing from your life without a trace — but this feels different. 

There’s no one to remind to take their big stupid giant shoes off at the step when you enter your flat.

It’s quiet. Lonesome, a needier person might call it.

Had you not convinced yourself this was something you’d wanted from the start, you’d confront him about it. Ask him why he’s avoiding you — but what would that fix?

What would you hope to get out of closure? 

You should be relieved that he’s lost interest in you. You should be over the moon that he ejects from conversations entirely upon your arrival. That he stands up and moves to the opposite side of the room should you put yourself in an empty seat beside him. 

Your life is no longer haunted by his gawking presence. Itadori shows up alone to his training sessions, and were you not hell-bent on putting on a show of relief at Choso’s absence to the rest of the world, you’d stoop to asking the kid what the hell was going on. 

As little as you can convince yourself any longer, you’ve got to convince the rest of the world. 

You don’t give a shit.

Pulling the fridge door open, you pull a juice box out of your bag and place it back on the shelf you’d plucked it from this morning.

Yeah. You’re fine. You’re great, actually. 

You don’t even fucking like berry salad. 

_________________________________

“How do I stop?”

You stare at the man in your doorway, halfway caught between dumbfounded and furious.

He stares back, refusing to elaborate for you.

“Are you kidding me? You haven’t spoken to me in months-“

“You promised me I could take a raincheck.” Choso says. “I’ve tried everything. Tell me how to make it stop.”

You should turn him away. You should say something awful and hurt him. Make him think twice before daring to get under someone’s skin the way he did yours.

A muscle in Choso’s jaw tenses. That would’ve been all it took, and you hate yourself for that much — but then he hits you with a staggered, weak little: “Please.”

“Make what—…ugh.” You relent, stepping aside to let him pass. “Shoes.”

He’s already stepping out of them, padding through your hallway on his way to the kitchen out of sheer habit.

“Don’t even think  about taking a Kagome.”

There’s a grunt. The fridge door closes. 

Choso’s stepping back into the living room when you’ve caught up with him. “I’m…really sorry.” He fiddles with his hands, shrinking into himself under the heat of your scrutiny. “I’ve—…missed talking to you.”

“Yeah, well I haven’t.” You snap. His gaze hits the floor, and guilt threatens to well in your throat. “I’m angry you ghosted me, okay?”

“I was trying to take Nanami’s advice.” He mumbles.

”Nanami.”

“But it hasn’t worked.“ The man continues, ignoring your targeted rage. “I asked him how I can stop feeling how I feel about you, and he told me to stay away, but I can’t, and I don’t know how to stop, and I know how sad it’s making you, but I can’t—“

You snap out of your haze at the wobble in the man’s voice, finding him clutching at his own sleeves, a futile endeavour at self-soothing. For just a moment, his gaze locks to yours.

Fuck, you’ve missed him looking at you. How sad is that.

“Why do you want to stop?” You ask, and all of a sudden he can’t look you in the eye again. “Did I do something to make you upset?”

“Because you don’t want it.” He explains, frustration mounting. “Everything I’ve read, everything I’ve watched, it’s not one-sided. In real life, with you — it’s only me. It makes-…it makes me feel terrible.” A pit forms in your stomach as he goes on. “Do you know how me and my siblings exist? Through my mother’s suffering.”

...

Oh, fuck.

You’ve been so stupid.

How could you have not thought this through? Choso’s a sensitive guy even without the nature of his existence coming into play, and your most rational thought when he came to you with this problem was to save your own embarrassment and throw him at porn?

The only prior understanding he’s had of sexuality is forced procreation.

All this time you’ve been torturing him, throwing him under the bus. Putting the entire responsibility for his interest in you onto him, without him even understanding any of it. You’ve been leading him along under the impression that you’re not interested, that you detest him, and while that might have been true at the start— 

“I don’t want to feel the way my father might have felt about my mother.” Choso admits. “I don’t want to want someone who doesn’t want me back.”

“You’ve got it wrong.” You manage. “You’re not bad for wanting me. There’s nothing I don’t like about that.” 

Your words fall on deaf ears. He’s already far too swept up in his own thoughts to hear you. 

“Choso.”  You speak firmly, and you’re not sure if it’s the tone you take or his own catastrophising, but you’ve never seen him look more afraid of you than he does right now. “It’s not the same, I promise you. That’s not how it works. I know you won’t hurt me.”

“But it does hurt you.” Choso insists, snatching at your shoulders like he's trying to snap you out of a stupor. “I see how much it bothers you. I don’t want to make you suffer.”

Your brow knits. Maybe if you weren’t such a pussy about all this you’d admit to him that the hurt of his absence has by far beaten any negative feelings brought about by having him around. 

“You treat my brother so well.” He offers, solemnly. “You tolerate me for his sake. It makes me feel so selfish — I want Yuji to be happy and continue to learn from you — but if you choose not to train him anymore because of me, then I  won’t be able to be near you anymore either. I can’t stay away from you, but I can’t bear to make you carry the burden of knowing how I feel about you. So please, tell me how I can stop.”

"I don't want you to stop." You blurt. This time, you're the one incapable of meeting his eye. Instead, you scowl at the wrap over his chest, doing your best not to get swept up in reuniting with the scent of him. "I'm sorry for making you go through this by yourself. I hate that I drove you away and made you feel like this. You can do what you want, but you need to know that what you're going through isn't bad. It's human."

Choso tentatively runs the fabric of your shirt between his fingers. Not quite touching you. Closing your proximity all the while. You feel his breath. You feel his warmth.

“It’s nothing like that,” You promise, “because I think the same of you.”

Then, you feel the fucker smirk down at you. "Yeah, yeah, I get the picture."

"Shut up. I'm trying."

His gaze flits between your eyes and your mouth, no doubt running through the natural course of events he’s been studying in whatever material the others have had him watch. His head dips, catching your attention, and then ever lower, nose almost brushing yours.

“You’re sure.” He breathes. 

You answer by covering the distance, ghosting your lips against his. Choso’s body stiffens, leaning into you in what he must assume is how he should reciprocate. You quell the insecurity, sliding your fingers down his arm before you find your balance with a palm pressed to his chest. He’s too inexperienced to take the cue, but he’s smart enough to break away with a questioning look. The blood mark across his nose has altered its shape. Not quite as straight as it once was.

“You can touch me. I want you to.” You murmur, tugging the bands out of his hair one at a time. “I’ll like it.”

The blood mark stretches over Choso’s cheeks. A hollow breathe escapes him just as he pulls you against him in another kiss, long arms wrapping firmly around your waist. He’s clearly inexperienced, but he's a quick learner. He follows your lead, mimicking your motions. Large hands drift over your ribcage. Pawing at your waist. Then, the moment your tongue slips over Choso’s bottom lip, he’s holding your hips just shy of his own. 

“You’re sure.”

His pupils are dilated beyond belief as he holds you at bay, lacking the willpower to keep from allowing you to push back into his grasp just a little, just enough to feel a burgeoning erection jutting against your stomach.

His hairties roll onto your wrist. Your fingers toy with his locks, gathering on his shoulders. “I think,” You smile up at him, “You should show me what you’ve been learning.”

Something in him snaps. His mouth is back on yours in a heartbeat, florid, hands yanking you in against his body. A ragged hum spills from his throat as you respond in kind, snatching at his cowl, breaking away from him just to untie the thing and pulling it off over his head.

Choso isn’t much of a talker. Not yet, at least. Not while so much of his concentration is on making up for lost time exploring you. For the moment, you have to find satisfaction in pulling wordless sounds from him, learning where he’s most sensitive. His ribcage. His throat. His hipbones. It’s not until your fingertips graze his cock through his pants that he musters a breathy little ”fuck—“

His weight braces against you naturally, chasing more, confidence growing. He spends a particularly long moment squeezing your ass before he hurriedly shifts his attention — just pointed enough to have you noting that he might already be figuring out his favourites.

When Choso’s fingers paw at your tits, though — a favourite of your own — you can’t help the little noise that escapes you.

He draws back. Pupils constricted. Blood mark tightening across his face. Sensing competition.

Not today, you affirm silently, walking the man backward until his legs hit the couch and he falls into a sit. You follow, sinking to your knees between his, palms resting on his thighs.

“Won’t you?” You ask sweetly, angling for a look akin to innocent, watching Choso gulp at the sight.

“Won’t I wh-what…” He stammers. So much for competition.

Your fingers curl into the fabric of his pants. You don’t take your eyes off him. “Show me.”

Choso takes a moment, considering your words in total silence. Then, with a shuddering breath, he’s fumbling with his underclothes, juban tugging up out of the way. Flashing his lower stomach as he busies himself with pulling his cock out of his pants. You find yourself vaguely scandalised at the sight. You’ve scarcely seen more of Choso than his arms. The flat of his stomach feels oddly intimate.

His cock is just as pale as his fingers. He slowly, steadily pulls his foreskin up, though his grip conceals him for the most part, much to your disappointment. When he draws back, you lean in insistently, ignoring a little shiver on his part at how close your face gets. Colour gathers on the delicate tip, much like the hue of his eyelids. Choso draws up again, and you find your mouth running dry at the glimmer of a tiny drop of pre-cum, at least before it gets swept away by his fingers.

“If you wanted to watch so bad, you should’ve asked.” He mutters, tone chastising — yet undermined by the flush blotting his neck, and again, you make a note. He’s going to be bratty once he gets the hang of this.

“Maybe if you’d been nice about it-“

“Are you gonna let me blow you, or what?” You interject.

Choso goes silent. Eyes wide. You’d think you’d gone too far if he hadn’t immediately relinquished his grip.

You waste no time replacing his hand with your own, balancing his cock between your fingers, tipping it toward you as you shimmy closer, nudging his knees further apart.

The flat of your tongue presses to the tip, and you grin at the way his whole body seems to flinch. A hum vibrates in his chest. Flagging permission to keep going. He can handle it. You don’t have to be content with just a taste.

Your mouth envelops his cock, and Choso grips hard  at the cushion beneath him. He stops making noise altogether as your lips venture mid-way, holding his breath while you pause to run your tongue against the underside. Then, when you hollow your cheeks and pull back up, a ragged sound escapes his throat. Pre-cum spurts over your tastebuds. So much so that you’re worried he might already be done for. Waiting another moment brings nothing else, but he probably needs a moment regardless.

Sitting back on your heels, you check in, poising your wettened lips just shy of the head. Choso looks like he’s on the verge of tears. It isn’t helped by the rorschach blotting of the blood mark dripping down his cheeks like drenched mascara.

“You okay?” You check in. “You need to stop?”

“No!” He yips, sitting up, bordering outraged. It takes a moment for him to register the smile on your face as a taunt. That you’re not serious about backing out.

All the same, if you didn’t have him pinned to the couch right now, you’re sure he’d be bowing at your feet again.

“Keep going. I can take it.”

Your hand works him slowly from base to tip, squeezing out another clear, oozing droplet. You smear it back and forth over your lips, and Choso’s head dips back against the couch, scrunching his eyes shut. Poor thing. As fun as it is teasing him, you owe it to him to at least get him off.

“Just relax.” You murmur, licking your lips, brushing your tongue around the head of his cock and waiting for a minute nod on his part before continuing on. Sinking down, you take him deeper with each bob of your head, building into a steady, consistent rhythm so as not to catch him off-guard. You want to draw this out as long as possible for him. You want him at your door again, at your feet, begging you for more.

You want to be the only one he wants doing this to him.

There’s no helping a swallow on your part when he nudges the back of your throat one too many times, though, and Choso gasps like he’s dying. His posture curls, instinctively trying to find purchase on something that isn’t just the couch. His cock twitches in your mouth, and you go still.

He’s on the brink, but you’re convinced you can work just a bit more out of him with a little patience.

Choso’s hands come to hover over your head. You don’t have the ability right now to tell him you’d be fine with having his grip guide you, and without that go-ahead, he’s not taking his chances. He’s far too considerate to do that.

So he just sits there, letting himself suffer, not quite sure what to do with himself beyond entrusting that part to you.

Once his muscles have relaxed enough, signalling his body’s retreat from the orgasm that had been building, you deem it safe to resume. Starting slow and shallow once again, you earn yourself a frustrated groan.

That’s more like it. The nerves are settling. He wants  to cum, now.

You can’t help but go back on your word, just a little. You can’t help but taunt him, pulling back to suck on just the head until his fingernails are digging into his palms. Choso’s hips judder, threatening to buck up into your mouth and taking a conscious effort to be stilled. His breaths push and pull through gritted teeth, and fine, it might be time to give the poor guy a break.

Choso all but cries out when you take him all the way in again, stifling an instinctual gag when another spurt of pre-cum hits your overworked throat. You don’t let up, for his sake. His breaths come short and sharp. His cock swells on your tongue, leaking pitifully in sync with an equally pitiful sound in his chest.

“I—“ He whimpers, voice wobbling, “I’m gonna—“

There’s no curse words he’s been exposed to enough to pick out, and when Choso peaks, he does so wordlessly in a mess of gasps and groans. The first pulse of cum jets across your tongue, and you draw back to hold your mouth open, working him through it with your hand. Ribbon after ribbon coats your face as Choso keens his way through the aftershocks, only filling your mouth when the force dwindles and his body slackens.

You’d mistake him for a corpse, were he not twitching every few seconds. His eyes are fixed on your face, glassy and unmoving, mouth agape as if he might burst into tears at any moment, unaided by the running of his blood mark down his cheeks.

Sitting back and admiring your handiwork, you swipe a thumb across a stripe of cum that starts to streak down your face, watching the man with a smile. You pop your thumb into your mouth, and Choso jolts to life at the sight, sitting up, suddenly breathing again.

His hand brushes your face. His own thumb tentatively brushing across the bridge of your nose.

“Please date me.”

You’re pretty certain he’ll cry for real if you say no.

[bullet-prooflove]

ATF!Series Part Three: Hell or Highwater

Tagging: @kmc1989 @hatersaremymotivators benny kkkelpies-shed

ATF Series:

Part One: A Rabbit You Don't Want To Chase - Stahl makes an unwelcome return to David's life.

Part Two: Fucked - Stahl fucks up you entire life in pursuit of Jax Teller.

You’ve been in a custody for five hours by the time David’s finally allowed to see you. Four hours of that has consisted of you sitting silently in an interrogation room listening to Stahl tell you how fucked you are.

And yea, she’s right, you are pretty fucked.

Your entire life it’s crumbling down around you and all you can feel is this crushing, desolate numbness because those hopes you had, those dreams they’re gone. Every single one of them.

You think about that as you lie on a musty mattress in a chilly cell. You think about what Jax Teller has done to you, what he continues to do to you. He has no direct involvement with you but the ripples of that time you spent together still resonate through your life.

This is what David means when he talks about Jax's blast radius.

Jax Teller is a nuclear bomb, his toxicity seeping into everything he touches. His poison, it salts the earth leaving no space for anything else to grow and you, you  just have to sit here and absorb the damage.

“The light giving you a headache?” David asks as he leans in the doorway of the cell block. It’s Tuesday evening and you’re the only one in attendance, your arm is draped over your eyes trying to ward off the glow from the fluorescent. You have that metallic taste on your tongue. The one that usually comes just as the migraine starts to set in.

You don’t answer him, you can’t because the moment you do David will know exactly how broken you are right now you can’t stand the idea of anyone seeing that.

The light clicks off and you swallow past the well of emotion that’s building in your chest because David, he always knows exactly what you need. You hear his footsteps, the squeak of his boots as he comes to linger outside your cell. You hear his sigh before he sits down on the floor, his back against the cinderblocks. His elbows come to rest on his knees as his head tips back and his eyes close.

You’re in for the night and so is he.

The distance it seems to stretch between you, he feels the weight of it in the air as he plays through the past couple of hours in his head. The phone calls he’s made to the San Franisco Art Institute trying to undo all the nasty shit that Stahl has done to you. He’d begged for them to change their minds but that placement is gone, they don’t want a criminal influencing the other students. He’d slammed down the phone so hard, the plastic had cracked on the receiver.

“She told me you fucked her today.” You say quietly and his blood runs cold because it isn’t enough that Stahl has taken away your prospects, she has to try and take him too. “That you came inside her, it seemed important to her that I know that.”

He understands the significance. For Stahl their relationship was about power, about proving she had it and he didn’t. It drove her absolutely crazy that he wouldn’t give her that, that everytime she begged or demanded, he would pull out. It was a sign to her that she couldn’t control him, not completely.

“You’re the only woman who gets to have that.” He tells you, his gaze meeting yours as you shift up into a sitting  position. “The only one that gets to have every part of me.”

You draw your knees up to your chest, tucking the blanket over your legs because it get a little cold in here at night. He makes note to get you an extra blanket because the temperature is only going to keep dropping.

“David, we should talk about what happens when I go to jail.” You say softly. “You need to get clear of this…”

“You won’t see jail time.” He tells you and there’s such surety in his voice that you can’t help but believe him. “You’ll be bailed tomorrow, made to pay a fine, they’re going to seek restitution for the property damage. We’ll be paying it off for the next couple of years.”

We…

Because the two of you, you’re in this together come hell or highwater.

“David…” You whisper because you know exactly what he’s done while you’ve been trapped with Stahl.

All the favours he’s collected over the years, all that good will. He’s used it all up on you, on managing this crisis. You know what this is going to do to him, his dreams of being Chief, they’re over. His affiliation with you has seen to that.

“You’ll be his downfall.” Jacob Hale had warned you when he’d heard about you and David. “You’ll ruin everything he’s worked for.”  

This is it right here, the moment he was talking about. Fuck it eats you up inside, knowing you’re dragging David down with you.

“You think this is a sacrifice for me but it isn’t.” He says as he raises to his feet, wincing at the stiffness in his bones as he comes to stand before the bars, his hands gripping them. “Unser was never going to step down and I don’t see the point of having all this power if I can’t use it to do the right thing.”

You mirror his movements, your fingers coming to rest in the indentations between his knuckles as you press your head against the cool bars.

“You didn’t ask for any of this,” He reminds you quietly, his blue eyes meeting yours. “We just fucked the wrong people and now we’re getting fucked but at least we’re in it together. They don’t get to have this, they don’t get to take you away from me.”

“No.” You whisper, a sad smile crossing your features because even though you’ve both lost so much, you’ll always have each other.  “They won’t ever have this.”

Love David? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[waxingrunes]

I’m seeing too much of this across all channels and I need to write a little something on my humble blog with my humble amount of followers, because how else am I going to get this off my chest.

Some of you need to remember that this whole world we created is pure, fiction. It’s based off fiction and we are building off fiction, forking off in different directions with characters we love.

The canon vs fanon debate is ongoing and quite honestly, mind numbingly pointless and you all consistently contradict and overlap one another with whatever discourse you’re riding that week. You lot wanna argue a point by saying, “these are my hc’s and I can do what I like with them stop taking everything so seriously teeheehehehe” then uno reverse that the next minute by screaming, “that would never happen *insert name* is this or is that” but fuck canon right? Fuck JKR? Or is it more, fuck the parts of canon I don’t like and I’ll take the parts I do so I can shove them down the throats of creators who represent these characters in an opposing light. The amount of posts I’ve seen floating around these sites that are people preaching to their audiences about how dumb they are (unless it’s meant to be satire, I’m not a brainless sensitive lump with no humour bone) for liking certain things, or enjoying certain things, or preferring certain aspects in a character is astounding. Take pause before jumping on your high horse over a fictional character and shaming people for moulding them into what they enjoy. Is this not the beauty of fiction, imagination; the ability to twist and turn over different traits and appearances within our palms and make them into our own little dress up dolls?

Here’s my two cents as a WOLFSTAR artist, not a Marauders— if I want to make Sirius into a teacup and Remus into a sea slug and have him curl up to sleep every night in his bowl, then I’ll do that with fine china detail. If I want to make Sirius someone who refuses to wear nothing but a specific shade of tangerine and Velcro strapped trainers, I will. One day I might throw Moony into a boxing ring and have him be a middleweight champion, stained by the blood of his opponent whilst his wolf is chomping at the bit to come out just before the full moon threatens to take centre stage. If I want to make Sirius 6ft tall and Remus 5ft1, I will. Why not draw an AU of them as the rocks from Everything, Everywhere All At Once? Maybe, they can be something as simple as a boy and a boy who look the way you want them to look, fuck the way you want them to fuck and fall in love and fight, and scream, and cry, and make up a million different ways.

Let’s get more specific as the seal’s broken. Why not make Remus plus sized and give him a beard or a dad’s bod at age 23. Or maybe because he’s lighter haired he doesn’t have dark hair like that and only has a smattering of it across the ugliest of his scars. Consider this— moony with softer hips but fuller sturdy shoulders. Or long, slender limbs with a deceptively hidden strength owing to his wolf, stronger than James though he doesn’t look it. Onto Sirius, try to tell me I’m not going to put him in thigh highs and fem the shit out of him whilst he holds a bat in one hand covered in the blood of someone who tried to disrespect his Moons. Alert the press when someone erases every single one of his tattoos only to replace them with hyperpigmentation. What about giving him a beater’s build and a long thick trail of naval hair that he likes to call his ‘seeker’s delight’. What about a hairless Sirius who has a soft life and likes to make herself pretty for her 6ft 4 boyfriend every weekend when he gets on the train to visit.

How about, I stick with my personal holy take on the boys and present you with a harmless middle ground where Moony is whatever the fuck I want him to be physically, emotionally, or characteristically but always a wet fucking cloth for Sirius. A grape, under a thumb, you could say. And a Sirius, who is too whatever I want him to be physically, emotionally, or characteristically but will always be Moony’s biggest cheerleader.

Stay with me whilst I offer you the brain stretching, risky, taboo thought for you to ponder on: stop trying to please people. Stop absorbing all these takes that pressure you into thinking you’ve got to include every fucking thing that shaves you down and boxes you into their squeaky clean little creator! Indulge in what you like. Make it public, make it known and make it as loud as you want. Feels good on this side of freedom.

Lastly, quick (none of this has been quick) circle back to myself being a Wolfstar artist, not a Marauders one. I will not be shamed into drawing the women in this fandom, I will not try to even out my art with equal parts women and men, in fear of being called misogynistic. I came here for Wolfstar and I stay for them; I get 95% of my muse from them and enjoy drawing these idiots nearly every single day when I can. I’ve a busy life, a job, the luxury of a family that love me and a couple friends I’d like to keep too. If and when I draw, it’s going to be what I want to draw and want to indulge in, not to check off your boxes of inclusion. I am not going to defend my choice of indulgence to you. I am not going to refute women or wlw ships and in fact, eat up stories or art where they’re prominent. Will I have muse or will to do a piece on them? Probably not. If I do, I will and if it’s not done to a standard deemed appropriate enough by the council, well shit I hope I get an honourable mention in one of your hate threads on Twitter.

Grow up. I am the type of person who has a more or less rigid taste on these boys and what I, enjoy representing them like and you runts will run your throats hoarse before I turn an ear. I am not the type of person to see someone who doesn’t like what I prefer and start slamming my keyboard and slap them with a red card. I’ll move on but appreciate the take in silence. Some of you really, come across like you’re stomping your feet in a tantrum, some of you sound like you’ve never been told to shut the fuck up a day in your life and some of you, some of you, really think you’re a messiah.

Fuck your canons, fanons and righteous attitudes towards people who are quite literally, not real. You are not a deity of the Marauders, you are a fucking loser offline just like the rest of us.

[2deadkat]

i'd love to hear ur complaints abt modern geronimo! If u'd like to share that is

Thank you for asking anon, I’d love to share and you have inadvertently entered the dragon’s den/lh

But fr tho, it’s a lot. It’s mostly pertaining to the writing.

The reason why I hate modern Geronimo is in the biggest nutshell possible, they screwed up the original dynamic for the Stiltons, a majority of the books is just one big game of Geronimo torture porn between the other characters, and overall a lot of wasted potential for unique interactions between the wider cast and the rest of the Stiltons as its limited to just Geronimo himself. Hell a lot of the plots could have the input from the other Stiltons if they were brave enough. And there seems to be a new character every few books and there’s no rhyme or substance to it anymore. Since when did trap reproduce???

And you’re telling me von Volt has another relative???? Yk at some point you just stop reading the books. Oh and do not get me started on the Thea problem…

Let me start with the Stiltons real quick, somehow they got worse by watering down their personalities to a bunch of cheap jokes.

What made the classic (or early) books work was that the whole point of Geronimo’s character is that yes he’s a wimp, but that’s because he’s a tired boss who gets dragged into his family’s shenanigans, and by extension his friends and allies around him. Everyone has some eccentric personality that shocks or baffle him in some way, and that’s where the comedy comes from. He’s able to stand on his own because of his duties and eagerness to stay in his comfort zone is where the meat of the interactions come from.

His family especially Trap and Thea were meant to be respective foils to him. Trap consistently bullies him and Thea is meant to be the direct opposite of him, she’s the driving force in the group and has more pants to cover up what Gerry doesn’t have. She’s the one behind a lot of their adventures or scoops, hell she’s also the one who keeps finding them in the first place and drags her family and connections into them which makes sense because that’s her job and also where a lot of the plots start from. She fills out the spots that Gerry doesn’t have. Trap is just pure comic relief and is basically that outside force to the group. Hell the two even have a dynamic of their own where’d they just fight over the most trivial things and that makes us side with Geronimo more because of the ridiculousness of his family, that’s what made it click (to me). Highly recommend you read the early books, it shows the strongest character imo (#1-20).

Now Geronimo has all his autonomy stripped away and he’s been reduced to a nothing but a punching bag for everyone around him. I hope I’m not kidding here but try reading a classic book (let’s say #7 or #26) and compare it to the writing in a modern book (let’s say #46 or #74) it’s very jarring. They put more emphasis on different ways his day is ruined and give him no room to breathe or stand on his own. There’s just no charm to that anymore. There’s no fine line with his relationship with the other characters (Run for the Hills Geronimo is probably the worse one and represents everything I don’t like about the new dynamic)

Now over time that initial draw to action is also done by Trap, which I thought was cool because it still plays into the idea of Geronimo’s family dragging him into their shenanigans and the motives make sense to him specifically. It’s like he keeps getting calls from his relatives on schemes which is fun. But the more you keep reading the modern books the dynamic gets skewed over time and here’s the part I’ve been waiting for…Thea gets shelved completely. And now it’s somehow the GOD DAMN GINGER BROS SHOW?????

Now I think about it, Trap used to be a lot more clever in the classic books as well, he’s essentially a bumbling fool who keeps falling into the wrong situations to make a quick buck which slowly backfires on him. If you know me that well you know I’d call him a less scummier Grunkle Stan. The fact that there’s no Thea to balance it out or at least ground the dynamic to some level feels really annoying now.

You don’t really see much of her anymore as she’s either smiling at the back or doesn’t say more than five lines anymore, which is baffling because she’s the one who can pick up the pace the most. I really wished they showed more of her involvement again…They’re a trio, not a duo…and the books are suspiciously phasing her out to make room for the ginger bros fail routine and it ultimately feels very empty…there’s not much acknowledgement or involvement from her really like they could say she’s busy at mouseford or something but nope! Shelved completely without an explanation or a missed opportunity for a tie-in mention.

So far the only redemption I see is the Mayan Mystery one and the Soccer one where she had a more integral role which are way more recent but it still bothers me that they just shelved her for a majority of the modern run.

Listen if the modern books weren’t cowards she would SOLO all these people

she’d probably have an interesting dynamic knowing that she gets along with everyone well and is technically an adventurer. It’d be such a good parallel to her brother to play off of.

hell it’s even worse in the comics. Like there’s legit no acknowledgment of her at all, when trap is absent that gets an explanation but she’s just suspiciously…gone and the only time she does have a major role is when she’s used as a fake mask for a psyche-out to the villains (I’m sorry but if the comics are gonna pull that shit then I’m baited to believe that Thea and (cat lady) would have a homerotic switcheroo fight akin to Ms.Bellum and Sedusa. SHES THE TOUGHEST AND SMARTEST RODENT, USE HER GODDAMIT)

Idk man I tried reading some of the comics and it never worked out that much, again the dynamic feels suspiciously empty with zero acknowledgment. It’s not the Stiltons it’s just the fucking ginger bros for some reason. It doesn’t feel solid like it used to. I really can’t get into them which is a shame, and tbf why would I want to read a comic where Geronimo goes back in time and helps a colonist do his thing 💀

I’d be very happy if someone here can give me one good reason to get into them somehow, I want to like modern Geronimo, please/s

Look if there’s one character I don’t mind them putting in complete absence it’s probably the unaccompanied minors/s…Or Petunia which makes much more sense since she’s a family friend!

Look I actually like Ben and Bugsy as a duo, I think their whole concept is really wholesome, but the books don’t really push their parts that much, like there’s no meaningful interaction they have with the adults which is a lot of missed potential that or it’s just limited to Geronimo. Like listen I get that the whole point of the books was that it was from Geronimo’s perspective, but it’s not like everyone else was just “present”. They had more active roles and Gerry would just write all his observations down. You want a good example? The Mona Mousa Code.

Still…Benjamin had more charm and a bigger role in the classic books…that boy can hyper fixate and master niche skills in anything and was the emotional rock for Geronimo. But now he just goes along with his uncle being a punching bag routine :/ and I KNOW they could do a lot more for Bugsy here, especially since the paws are practically family friends.

—-

But you know…I’ll do give it credit here this era has one of my favorite art styles in the series and notably the one I grew up with the most (classic books illustrations still hold more charm imo) but the way action and expression is illustrated is just *chefs kiss* there’s a certain bounce to it that makes it so memorable.

And I’ll do admit all those geography facts (even if it’s just basic facts I mean it’s a kids book) and long detailed lists or charts about a characters detail is really cool and somehow makes it more immersive.

And it’s really nice to see the universe get expanded.

But overall, the writing is not the same anymore, the original dynamic is screwed up, and lots of missed opportunity to round up the cast together. It’s either empty or I’m just getting too old…Maybe I’m just nostalgia-biased in different areas who knows. But that’s pretty all my thoughts I can pull out.

[quiwilove]

Like a Tattoo - Prologue

Pairing: Neteyam te Suli Tsyeyk'itan x Omatikaya!Reader.

Synopsis: Neteyam’s backstory.

Genre: Angst.

Warnings: Depiction of violence, Mentions of blood, Death, War, Arranged betrothal, Grief, ED, Nightmares. MDNI.

Word-count: 3.1k

Author’s note: This will be a multi-chapter series and I thing having a backstory gives the readers(you!) a better understanding of the characters. If you don’t want to read the prologue it’s totally fine! Also this is my first time publishing a work of mine on tumblr, so be patient with me, please! Write to me if you have any suggestions or advice regarding the story.

Combatants

- At the age of fifteen he had already learned silence.

It was his fourth time at a raid. Everything was planned, calculated to the very last drop.

Jake Sully, the great Olo'eyktan and his father, had stayed till late hours perfecting the plan of their raid. The tent in which they were staying was mostly used for gatherings of all the skilled warriors within the clan including Toruk Makto. The meetings consisted of strategic planning of their upcoming attacks, they would draw on a makeshift map of the area that surrounded the tracks made by their oppressors. The tent was large enough to hold a dozen, it had a lengthy table in the middle making the space feel confined. Air felt thick, hard to breathe in.

Jake Sully had his hands pressed against the rough wood, eyebrows furrowed and eyes searching for an answer that could not be seen. Neteyam wondered if his father’s muscles were always so tense, almost as if they were about to snap.

“The RDA has taken a huge blow on their equipment. They won’t be willing to sacrifice more. I presume they’ll bring reinforcement, Sir.”

“That’s for sure, the question is from where they will hit us.” Toruk Makto’s hand went to trace over the previously drawn lines of the movement they were planning. Ink smudged beneath his fingertips slightly staining them with black. Everyone had left the gathering hours ago, pleased with their work. But to Jake it felt like nothing was finished, nothing felt right.

“It could be from anywhere, Sir. We should be prepared for the worse. Gathering a larger group of warriors on the ground would be our best option.” Neteyam felt confident in his answer, or rather tried to.

“Why so?”

“It would be easier for us to not be seen. Sky people have a pattern to their attacks. They have no ground force, only air force, so-” His fingers traced next to the lining of the tracks on the map. “-if we move here where the trees keep us cover. We would have a greater plane to move across, they wouldn’t know where to hit.” Neteyam’s eyes glanced up to his father’s, searching for validation. But Jake Sully’s face remained stoic thinking over what his son stated.

“Spotters will still be vital for us but only a few are necessary. The less we are seen in the sky the better.” He continued. His father hadn’t uttered a word. The tent's walls painfully closed around, making it hard to inhale. The confidence he once felt had drained from him. An apology for his futile comment was about to slip off his tongue as he took his last sharp breath.

“Come on, we’ll need to get a good night’s sleep.” He patted his son’s shoulder and walked out of the tent. Yes, sir, it was a whisper, almost like he had said it to himself. He leaned against the table folding the scruffy piece of paper, placing it where all the other maps and plans were situated. They smelled like poison. Once you touch them you would be marked with the blood of the ones that died during the raids. You would be part of the reason for their death.

The fifteen-year-old tried to wholly blame their invaders, the men who shot their bullets at them. But after the names of the warriors who laid deceased on the battlefield were announced, guilt consumed his mind. The blood on his hands couldn’t be washed.

Morning had come. Everyone rushed from place to place picking up weapons. Their faces were painted in different colours, masking their fear. No one was sure whether they would live throughout the day. It was a gamble, each of their raids was a gamble with death. All members of the gatherings knew of this - an unspoken truth. A truth that was too hard to swallow. Felt taboo to even think about it, so it was never spoken of aloud.

The young boy’s footsteps matched the ones of all the skilled warriors, the sense of confidence radiating off of them - they were fast and controlled, each step very well calculated. He was marching off to the tent that had been occupied by him and his father many hours ago, knowing that Jake Sully would be there. He needed to apologize for his previous outburst. He felt compunction clawing at him, he needed to learn to be silent - to keep all fruitless comments to himself. Neteyam was consumed by his own thoughts, each yell or noise was blurred only making a slight vibration passing through his skin. Then he heard it. Her voice.

“Neteyam, yawne!” The voice of his soon-to-be mate. She jogged through the crowd, a smile on her plump lips. Her face was decorated with warrior's paint complimenting her seraphic features. Her eyes were big, having so much life in them.

“Why are you here? Shouldn’t you be with Kiri and Mo’at helping them?” His eyes narrowed.

“I won’t be needed there.” She took his larger hands into her own, squeezing them lightly. The smile on her face remained. ”I’ll be joining you, fighting with you.”

The scowl plastered across his face deepened. A sudden premonition came over him. He had been terrified of the thought of other na’vi, unknown to him putting their life on the line. But his future mate? He could not let such a thing happen. The mere idea of losing her left him petrified.

“No. You won’t be. You’ll be staying with Mo’at, where I know you’ll be safe.” The Olo'eyktan’s son tried to keep his voice soft.

“Your father told me I can come.” Her hands moved up to his shoulders then to his face, gently caressing his freckled skin. ”I am a warrior, Neteyam. I know how to keep myself safe and… I have you to protect me.” His gaze softened, grasping her hands in his rough ones. ‘How could my father permit such a delicate girl on the filthy field?’ He thought displeased.

Neteyam and Syay had met a year ago, not by fate but their parents. Her family being a respected household in the clan, it was no wonder they would soon cross paths. At first their interactions were forced, neither of them wanted to be betrothed to the other but they knew this was their duty. They had to get along for the clan, for the people. Months went by and the hours they spent together seemed less painful and felt less like a chore.

“Promise me you will stay by my side at all times.” It was a demand. Leaning forward Syay touched her forehead to his. She could sensor the cold sweat clinging to the boy’s skin, his muscles taut

“I will, yawne.”

The brown cloth that was used as an entry was moved to the side revealing several combatants gathered around his father. On the table beneath their palms was placed the worn out map. Their gazes shot like arrows in his way, ready to pierce through the thickest flesh. Agitation was written on their faces, mortality blooming under their skin. Toruk Makto had gathered them once again due to his own fear of failure. The Olo'eyktan was the last to pick up his head.

Neteyam’s posture was awkward, out of place, his fingers still gripping the cloth. Their predatorily stare made him feel weak as If he were to be hunted. Cautiously he took a step forward, the tent’s entrance sliding closed, then a few more steps until he was at the base of the table.

“Sir, may I speak with you?” The young boy spoke with pseudo confidence, all eyes on him but his own bore through his father’s.

“Go on.”

“Privately, if possible.”

Jake Sully dismissed his comrades with a hand gesture. They all exited the tent without questioning. Authority radiated off his father. A thing he admired about him. He often wished to be more like his father - a true leader with no fear.

“I-I want to apologize for yesterday. I was creating some stupid war plan in my head and I thought it sounded smart but after saying it out loud, it lost all sense. I should have-” He was quickly cut off by his father.

“No, you are too quick to blame yourself. You are still learning Neteyam, yes but what you stated previously was quite an idea.” He licked his chapped lips, pausing for a moment “I talked with the other warriors about it. Perhaps you were right about their lack of ground force. What I am saying is that we’ll try out your plan. With that you need to know that you and some of my men will be the only spotters.”

The boy’s yellow eyes widened at the thought. Recognised by Jake, validated. He was proud of himself. The embarrassment he had felt was draining from him but then he remembered. ‘What about Syay?’ His mind raced.

“Father, Syay told me she will be coming with us. She will be with me, a spotter, right?” He leaned over the table with his hands on the edge. The size of the wooden surface seemed to shorten as his father remained silent.

“Look, Syay’s father will be on the ground and she will be with him. We both know he is capable of keeping his own daughter safe so you shouldn’t worry.” Neteyam did the opposite. He began to worry. Even if the best known soldier to Pandora was with his beloved, he would still fear for her wellbeing. He needed her to be next to him, eyes to be locked on her. The boy was painfully aware that on the ground death was promised and mercy was granted to the strongest.

“I want her with me. Switch her with one of your men, the sky is safer and you can easily dodge bullets. I can’t allow her to get hurt. Please understand me, Sir.”

Jake Sully shook his head. Contemplating whether his decision will be fatal later on. He knew his son was responsible but still a child.

“It will be for the best this way. It’s too late to change plans.” Jake spoke and hoped his boy would accept this and move on.

“Sir, I can protect her, she'll be better off with me.”

“No.”

“I won’t let her out of my sight!” The young na’vi was beginning to bargain. Desperate to be with his Syay.

“Neteyam.”

“Father, please…” There was a pregnant pause.

“A-a-a-h, you must take full responsibility. No playing around, understand me?”

“Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir!” Neteyam let out a small sigh of relief, a breath that was caught up in him from the first steps he took into the tent.

“Now get outta my face.” With that the child warrior left the tent almost too quickly and eagerly.

Ikrans soar through the sky as their riders inspect the air nervously. Before take off all na’vi gathered listening to the words spoken from their mighty Olo’eyktan. His words were like a soothing song to the mothers, wives and children. The ones afraid their family would not return this moon. Neytiri, Jake’s mate and Neteyam’s mother was there, standing close, cradling her youngest in her arms. Prior to going on raids she felt the need to ease her children, hold them close to herself as if they were to perish. She was never too scared of a war, she knew the necessity of it and the sacrifices to be made but as her children grew they joined the war. Their safety was at risk and that is when the fear blossomed within her.

Neytiri’s gaze fell on Neteyam. Many said he inherited the strong features of his mother. The eyes, the nose, the lips all resembled her’s, but she could only see Jake in her son. He had a face stoic but gentle and pure as Jake’s. Her eyes quickly moved to the ikran’s rider gliding next to the young boy. Syay, a girl tough for her age. She was a talented warrior, her bow like an extension of her arm. She never was the type to mess around the other young na’vi girls, to weave baskets with them, to make bracelets together, to even gossip. But this was not looked down upon as her hunting skills out maneuvered the need of acquiring other expertises. Once, Neytiri tried to teach the child how to thread a piece of clothing but soon she understood it was impossible. The child couldn’t even slide a bead on the thread without it disappearing in the ground. Too sloppy with her hands to make a simple cloth but skilled enough with the knife to kill in seconds. ‘Such a strange thing.’ Neytiri would often think.

Before her thoughts could wander any further Jake’s voice boomed through her ear piece. The noise piercing her ear drums.

“We are approaching the target. Be ready.”

Bullets hit their target, fire spread on the ground, na’vi screamed and cheered. If a painter had the chance to portray the scene that absorbed the battle ground, it would have been a grotesque depiction of the colour red, splashed all over the canvas. Another shipment vehicle had been taken down. Quickly, the soldiers started searching through the containers with the intention of finding valuable weapons. In spite of that, a thud of empty boxes could be heard. It didn’t even take long for Jake Sully to realize that he had been tricked. He took the bait. Shock was what he felt, which was swiftly outlived as many dark and gruesome thoughts absorbed his consciousness. Depictions of everything in their plan going wrong.

“Sawtute!” Humans.

Jake cursed under his breath. He looked around and saw all the combatants looking in his direction, ready to take action, to listen to his command. At once it went silent. A painful silence. And so he began to scream and yell. But he couldn’t hear his own voice. Deafening ring went all around the plaine. The humans have begun their maschere. Their firearms pierced the air and then the flesh of the na’vi.

“Fall back!” The Olo’eyktan yelled. Some soldiers ran, others shot at the helicopters soaring in the wind. Several fell and the other remained. He, himself, fought however he could, but their opponents were too strong. The fight wasn’t fair and they were greatly outnumbered. An ignoble fight, a bloody and messy war.

“Dad!” Neteyam called though the throat mic distressed.

“Are you okay, son?” A premonition came over Jake.

“Dad, I don’t know w-what happened. I-I was on the ground with Syay, she-“ Neteyam’s voice broke and a pained cry erupted from his throat. “She wanted to help her dad with the cargo and-“ Jake’s patience was thin.

“What happened?!” The Oly’ektan screamed.

“Syay is dead, dad!”

The silence. Present again. A helicopter crashed 10 metres away from Jake Sully. But the silence continued. Neteyam shook with every breath he took. Stream of tears and snot went down his chin onto the burning ground, as he held his soon-to-be mate. He held her tightly, close to his chest. The hot blood that stained his skin and clothes didn’t bother him. He thought that if he held her for long enough she would come back to life, and her chest would start to rise and fall. But she was still, awfully still. The young boy wailed, unable to accept the inevitable. ‘At least her father was next to her. At least in her final moments she was next to the people she loves.’ He thought. Lucky.

With eyes red and hands trembling, Neteyam was found embracing Syay by his father. The battle was ongoing around them, but it didn’t seem as if the boy cared.

“Let me see you.” His father ordered him. The boy-soldier looked at his father with desperation. Jake brought his hands to touch his son’s scraped face and then observed his body for any fatal injuries. Relieved, the man then turned his attention towards Syay who laid next to his son. A sense of bitterness went through him as many memories of the sweet girl were brought back into his mind.

“Your mother will be here soon, she’ll take you home.”

“But-“ Neteyam didn’t want to leave his precious girl, however war comes with its many sacrifices and heartbreaks.

“Learn to be silent.” His voice was sharp. Neytiri soon landed with her ikran.

The following hours after the battle ended, the usually turquoise sky was gray. The na’vi mourned and grieved their losses. After Neteyam’s family understood of the death of his ‘soon-to-be’ mate and her father, they were all devastated. Misery loomed over them because of the major loss. However they couldn’t sulk for days to no end, because they had duties - the people were waiting for them.

Months went by, the funerals passed. Neteyam still blamed himself for everything that went on during the infamous battle. He continued to think that if he were more assertive and stern, he and Syay wouldn’t have gone to the ground where all hell broke loose. He thought that maybe… he should have been the one shot. Neteyam couldn’t sleep for days without having nightmares. Food for him seemed almost unpleasant. He was carrying the burden of death with himself. …But as many say, time heals. The said words would often cross his mind, a simple reminder that life continues. Thus, he devoted himself to work. Every chance he received, he would occupy his time with chores and training, no time for rest as it brough unwanted thoughts. The Omatikaya clan was looking up to him as the next Olo’eyktan in line and the expectations were high.

Five years later…

The Sullys had to take a leave. They had to depart from their people, their clan. The RDA hadn’t backed down and only grew stronger with time. Recently, Colonel Quarich came back from the dead in search of his target - Jake Sully. Not long ago, Neteyam’s siblings were under grave danger when they were captured by the dream walkers. In result, Jake took the hard decision of leaving their home for the good of the people and themselves. He was soon stripped of his title of Olo’eyktan and there was no turning back. The younger Sullys were distraught by the unexpected news, but it wasn't up to them to decide, so their pleas and bargains didn’t affect anything. Neteyam, already an adult, 20 years of age, was rather objective about the choice as he understood the vital nature of the resolution and he didn’t say a word.

[mistercrowbar]

Heya! Firsr I wanted to say that I love your art it always makes me smile when I see it. I'm trying to learn how to draw, and eventually want to be able to draw stuff like yours. Do you have any tips/ advice on how to improve on drawing characters?

I could give the Fine Art Answer and go on about drawing from observation, from photo reference, making master studies, gestures, linear perspective, colour theory lightning composition etc etc etc but really

Let obsession grab you and ride it

I’ve known plenty of people whose art skills took off because they got into D&D and wanted to draw their OCs and they kept drawing and drawing and learning along the way. It can start as simple as, how do I draw my character making a really angry rage scream, and so you go to a mirror and make silly faces and draw from that. Then it can go to, I want to draw my OC and their party in that funny scene we RP’d at the tavern, so you start grabbing references for the interior of such a place, dabble in that perspective thing to lay out the bar, find references for the pirate NPC’s parrot, add some other elements just to frame everything nicely and bam, you’ve drawn yourself a full scene, got experience in drawing interiors, and learned some avian anatomy.

I do emphasise starting small and having fun. I illustrate full time for a living so that’s why most of what I post is silly sketches, I just wanna get the ideas out there without stressing myself. You wanna make art a habit, you want to make it something you look forward to doing, instead of getting wrapped up in thinking every new work has to be a masterpiece. Try to learn one thing at a time and add it to your repertoire instead of lumping a bunch of lessons in at once.

One thing specifically for characters, don’t jump right into making a reference. They’re likely to evolve the more you draw them as you get a better handle of what traits you want to emphasise or details that kinda get forgotten. Like, look at Aldiirn, I’ve had him for 3-4 months and he’s put on at least 30lbs lmao but also a bunch of other changes to emphasise round shapes like nose eyes hair. No one’s holding a gun to your head to keep things consistent.

So yeah! You can crunch and do the master studies and learn quickly, but if you’re just in it for you, have some fun! Draw your blorbo a million times and try branching out for one new thing here and there. If you are just starting out, it could be helpful to learn the basics of constructing a head and general body proportions. I don’t have any tutorials to recommend but I’m sure there must be something on youtube.

[chervbs]

the barber predicament— s. harrington

pairings: steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: 3.6k

synopsis: when steve complains that he can’t find a new barber after his old one retired, eddie recommends you; an old friend of his that’s a stylist. and you seem to know the way right to steve’s heart-through his hair. based on this request.

warnings: reader and eddie are besties, brief mention of eddie and max’s shitty childhoods, probably incorrect depictions on what it’s like to be a hair stylist, FLUFF to the max and terrible writing

a/n: I really really don’t like how this came out but I loved to request so much that I forced myself to finish it. everything I know I about being a hair stylist is from getting my hair done so much and from tiktok, so I tried to keep the details I wasn’t sure of vague. I apologize if anything is wrong, please let me know if it is. also I completely guessed on how much hairciuts were in the 80's so sorry if thats wrong too. otherwise, like always, i’d love any feedback you guys give me

masterlist

“Steve, I sympathize with you, I really do, but if I have to listen to you complain that you can’t find a barber for another second, I will tell Keith that you’ve been letting pretty girls get away with their late return fees.”

Steve’s jaw fell open, staring dumbfounded at Robin. “W-well, excuse me,” He stuttered, offended. “For wanting to confide in my best friend about my troubles. Truly, Robin, I don’t know why I assumed you’d be supportive.”

The blonde rolled her eyes, shaking her head lightly at her friends dramatics. “I was supportive up until the fourth time you talked about it. What’s the big deal, anyways?” She asked. “There’s like 3 different barbers in town. Go to one of them.”

Steve stared at her incredulously, as if she’d just told him to shave his head. “Are you being serious? Do you know me at all?”

Robin sighed, pulling the bin of returned movies out from under the counter. “Yes, Steve, in fact I do. I know that your hair is weirdly important to you. But what do you expect me to do about the fact that you won’t trust any of the barbers in town?” She asked, organizing the movies by genre on the rolling cart next to her.

“You looking for a barber, Harrington?” The additional voice caused the two Family Video employees to jump, looking over to see Eddie leaning on the counter casually.

Recovering from the startle, Steve nodded skeptically. “Yeah, I am. Why, you have someone you know?”

Eddie nodded with a grin. “Indeed I do. This girl that graduated the first time I was supposed to. She was in Hellfire. Went to school for hair and everything. Even does mine on occasion for a discount.”

Steve’s eyes shot up to his hairline, head nodding slowly. “Right.” He said, drawing out the vowel. “Well, listen, Munson. I mean no offense when I say this, but I don’t know if I trust someone with my hair that leaves you looking like that.” He explained, gesturing to the other boys head.

Eddie looked at him blankly. “Offense taken.” He deadpanned. “You think I want my hair like this simply for convenience?”

Both Steve and Robin stayed silent, giving Eddie knowing looks instead. He sighed in defeat. “Okay, fine, that’s partially why. But, I also have to give credit to my ultimate role model, Kirk Hammett.” He grinned.

He received blank looks from his friends and the metal head threw his arms up in exasperation. “Really? Kirk Hammett? Lead guitarist of Metallica? Nothing? Why am I friends with you guys?”

Before either of them could respond with a witty remark, Max came skipping up to the counter with two movies in her hands, throwing them down onto the counter. “I’m ready.”

“2 movies?” Eddie glared at the redhead. “Really, Maxine?”

Eddie and Max had a very odd brother sister relationship that was built almost entirely on a consistent basis of bickering and shoving each other around. Still, they looked out for one another, and Eddie felt responsible for making sure the little bit of Max’s childhood that was left was positive. Which he did so in different ways, including bringing her to rent movies for their movie nights.

“Yes, 2. Because you still owe me for the last movie night you forgot about.” She spit back. Eddie gritted his teeth, sliding over the correct amount of money to Steve for the movies.

“As I was saying,” He sent the redhead one last glare. “Even though my hair is convenient for my lifestyle, I ask for it to look a certain way to resemble someone I look up to. She’s the only one who’s ever gotten it to how I want.” Eddie told Steve, snatching a pad of sticky notes and a pen from behind the register.

He scribbled down a series of numbers before sliding it back. “That’s the number for the salon she works at. Give her a call. If you want.”

-

You were on your lunch break when the call came in. On a Wednesday, there was no need to have many stylists in the salon at once. Most appointments and walk ins would happen in the afternoon and as a younger stylist you were more often than not told to come in during the day for walk ins. The other women in the salon were older, more experienced stylists that didn’t need the extra cash you normally got for the services.

The food on your fork was midway to your mouth when the phone rang and you let it fall back onto your plate with a sigh.

“Thanks for calling Hawkins #1 hair salon, how can I help you?” The slogan spewed from your lips like a broken record.

“Uh..hi.” You straightened at the deep voice that came from the phone. Of course, you had men in the salon, usually though just to wait for their wives or kids to get their hair cut. There was the occasional male client, but most went to the local barbers and wouldn’t be caught dead getting their hair done in your salon. As if getting a haircut from a woman made them more feminine.

“Hello!” You chirped. “How can I help you today?”

The man on the other line hesitated for a second. “I’d like to book a haircut? With, um…Y/N.”

You perked up at the sound of your own name, a bashful smile appearing on your lips. Someone had recommended you?

“That would be me.” You chuckled. “Can I ask who referred you?”

The nameless man gave you a polite laugh, the deep timbre of the sound sending a warmth to your cheeks. “Uh, yeah. Eddie? Eddie Munson? He said you guys were friends in high school. Said you were good at what you do.”

The kind words certainly did nothing to quell the heat in your skin, but you still beamed at the mention of your friend. “Yeah, Eddie, of course. I’ll have to give him a discount the next time he comes in.” You joked. In all seriousness, you already didn’t charge Eddie the normal amount that you did for haircuts, fully aware of his financial situation. “But, yeah, I can put you in for a haircut. What day were you hoping to come in?”

“Is tomorrow okay? It’s my only day off.”

You opened up the binder that kept track of all appointments, making sure there were openings for the next day. “Yeah, it says here I have an opening at 10am and another at 1. Either of those sound good?”

The line went silent for a second too long, and you have a feeling the man nodded before remembering he was on the phone. “1pm would be great, thanks.”

You grabbed a pen and crossed out the 1pm slot. “Awesome. What’s the name I can put down for you?”

“Steve. Steve Harrington.”

-

Steve was irrationally nervous for his haircut. Never mind the fact that he was risking, in his opinion, his best feature, but the thought of meeting you was annoyingly nerve wracking. The way your voice sounded over the phone was borderline angelic, and he could only imagine what kind of beauty you radiated in real life. Not to mention, you and him briefly walked the halls of Hawkins High at the same time, and he wondered if you were aware of his reputation back then. He couldn’t recall your presence, but then again, he had his head so far up his own ass that he didn’t recognize most people from high school.

He was so antsy that morning that he was ready to go by 11, leaving him to pace and try to find little things to keep himself busy. The second it hit 12:50, Steve was sprinting out the door, making it to the salon in a record 5 minutes.

The bell above the door rang as soon as he stepped in, alerting the few stylists and customers that were there of his presence. One of the stylists, an older, heavier set woman took a glance at him as she blow dried her client.

“Y/N!” She called towards the back of the salon. “Your 1 o’clock is here!”

A second later, a woman stepped out, who he could only assume was you. You emerged from a beaded curtain, a sight to behold. Steve felt his breath hitch and he tried to wipe the sweat from his hands on his jeans.

You weren’t doing much better. Of course you knew who Steve Harrington was. He’d been a year younger than you, but he’d quickly climbed the social ladder in school. Every party was a big deal when it was held at Steve’s house and if you were friends with him, you were automatically cool.

You hadn’t cared much about the social aspect of school, focusing only on passing your classes and playing DnD. It’s where you met Eddie, who had easily become your best friend. It had been upsetting when you found out he wouldn’t be walking the stage with you, but you’d been supportive of him ever since.

And like every girl, you’d had a crush on Steve Harrington. How could you not? He was a total dreamboat and you’d be crazy not to find him attractive. You’d always been able to push that desire to the back burner, considering your best friend was continuously labeled as The Freak and you certainly didn’t gain any popularity by being associated with him.

When Eddie told you that he’d befriended the former King of Hawkins High, you truly believed he was fucking with you. But he claimed that the man had changed; matured. He told you that Steve’s best friends were a senior girl who Eddie knew band from marching band and a freshman that was in Hellfire. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t curious about this new man Steve Harrington had apparently become.

Oh, and that crush you had? Definitely still there. That much was evident by the dryness of your mouth that occurred the moment you laid eyes on Steve.

He was even more handsome than you remembered. Long legs clad in light blue Levi’s, polo shirt fitted nicely to his toned chest and big brown eyes looking back at you with an expression you couldn’t read.

Steve wished he remembered you. He couldn’t help but wonder if things had been different, would he have noticed you? He wanted to kick himself for not having. You were probably the prettiest girl he’d ever seen, and he realized now that describing you as angelic didn’t do you justice. You were ethereal–otherworldly.

He could see why you and Eddie were friends. Your outfit was mainly made up of black articles with a few splashes of color here and there. Your makeup was dark, creating a contract between the black eyeliner and the color of your iris’s. You were stunning, to say the least.

“Hi!” You exclaimed breathlessly. The sound of your voice broke Steve from his jumble of thoughts, only making his brain fizzle further. Your voice was even sweeter in person. “Steve, right?” You asked, though you knew the answer.

Steve cleared his throat, nodding. “Yeah, that’s me. You’re Y/N?”

You grinned so brightly it nearly made Steve’s heart stop in his chest. “That would be me. You can come sit at my station.” You said, patting the chair you’d stopped at.

He obeyed silently, taking a seat in the chair. You had to crank the lever a few times, lowering the height of the chair to accommodate for his large stature. You tried not to focus on the intoxicating smell of his cologne and he tried not to focus on your hands taking through his hair.

“So, what were we thinking of doing to your hair?” You asked, leaning your arms on the back of the chair.

Steve made eye contact with you through the mirror and hoped you couldn’t tell how red his cheeks were, because he definitely could. “Um, I was hoping to keep most of the length. Shorter on the sides, longer in the front?” He was really just spitting out words, hoping they made sense. Honestly, he was finding it difficult to focus on your question when he felt your fingertips on his scalp.

“So..we’re thinking Swayze but longer?” Steve’s jaw fell slack, staring at you in awe as you put his thoughts into words with incredible ease. You really did know what you were doing.

“Yeah, exactly.” He responded quietly, a little stunned.

You sent him that brilliant smile once again. “Cool.” You stared thoughtfully at his reflection, head tilted to the side. “Can I-could I suggest something? And you can totally say no, but I personally think it would look really good.”

Steve thought that you could ask him to commit arson and he’d say yes. “‘Course. What is it?”

You pulled a couple of strands around his face, trying to visualize your idea. “How would you feel about getting a little bit of highlights?”

His eyebrow cocked in questioning. “Highlights? Don’t only chicks get those?”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes a bit, and Steve’s stomach immediately dropped. He fucked up, he offended you, he–

“No, silly. There’s actually a lot of actors recently that have been getting them. It wouldn’t be any drastic, just a few streaks that would be a shade or two lighter than your natural color. I think it would compliment your skin tone, bring out your eyes.”

The boy found himself nodding before he really considered what you were telling him. “Yeah,” He blurted, realizing he had yet to give you a verbal response. “If you think so. I trust you.”

“Great.” You laughed. “I’ll get you mixed up.”

Steve didn’t know what that meant, but he did know that his haircut had now upgraded to a lengthier process, and he was just happy to have a reason to be around you longer.

As promised, you came back out a couple minutes later, using a brush that looked like a big fork and mixing up a gooey mixture in a bowl. You were quick to start slathering the light purple substance in his hair, carefully applying it to chunks that you had placed over a piece of foil. Each section was enclosed and folded into a little square.

“So what brings you to me? I know you said Eddie referred you, but guys aren’t usually very willing to go to a stylist rather than a barber.” You said.

Steve shrugged a little. “I had a barber before, but he retired and moved out of Hawkins. He’s the only one that’s ever gotten my hair exactly how I want it.” He blushed, reluctant to reveal the reason he’d agreed to be there. “My hair is kinda important to me, I didn’t wanna go to just any barber and risk them fucking it up. Eddie said you were great and I really just needed a haircut.” He explained.

You nodded understandingly, finishing up the last couple sections of his highlights. “I get that. Hair has always been really important to me too. Obviously.” You gestured around you. Steve laughed and you felt the sound bring a warmth to your chest. “It’s always been the easiest way besides my clothes to express myself. And it’s nice to have control over something as an adult when so much is out of your control.”

Your eyes met in the mirror once again, his big doe eyes staring deep into your soul with an understanding that only came from shared experiences. You didn’t know much about Steve’s home life, only what you’d heard during school. His parents were loaded but were often never home. As a teenager, that’s the best thing that could happen to you, but as an adult, you saw how that could get pretty lonely.

The time passed by far too quickly for either of your tastes. You and Steve hadn’t even noticed the time flying so quickly as you talked about anything and everything. It was crazy to think that this man, this sweet, charismatic, beautiful man, used to be a douchebag in high school.

Steve was in heaven as you washed his hair, not even bothering to hide his bliss as your fingers massaged the hair products into his scalp. He could die happy right now, he was sure of it. You held back a giggle as his eyes closed and a convent hum came from his throat. Not wanting to embarrass him, you refrained from commenting and continued your routine.

After a few cycles of shampooing and rinsing and conditioning and rinsing until Steve’s hair was clean and silky smooth, you shut the water off and gathered his hair in a little towel.

“Okay, all done. I’m just gonna blow dry your hair, style it a bit and you’ll be all set.” Steve couldn’t help the frown that appeared, not wanting your time together to end.

It seemed like you read his mind, commenting as you dragged a hairbrush through his brunette locks. “If you’re happy with how your hair came out, you can always come back for trims, o-or touch ups on your highlights.” You stuttered, smiling sheepishly and silently praying that he couldn’t tell how desperate you were to see him again.

“Yeah?” He asked. You nodded, biting your lip shyly as you refocused on his hair. You sat in a forced but comfortable silence as you blowdried his hair. Once it was all nice and fluffy, he watched as you poured a series of liquids into your palm, raking them through his hair. You messed with the strands for another few minutes, doing stuff he didn’t understand but somehow styling his hair exactly how he likes it.

He had to admit, you were definitely right about the highlights. They brought a brightness to his complexion that hadn’t been there before. He felt like he looked younger somehow, which was surprising, considering the kids he always hung around with made him feel like he was pushing 80 sometimes. He told you as such, reveling in the sweet sound of your laughter.

“Well, that’s my job. Just glad you trusted little ol’ me with your most prized possession.” The words came out teasingly. Steve grinned back at you through the mirror, shrugging slightly.

“Guess I owe Munson, huh?”

You agreed, guiding him back to the front to check him out. You typed something into the register at the counter. “Your total is gonna be $10.”

Steve’s eyebrows almost touched his forehead. “That’s it? For the haircut and the highlights?”

“Yeah, it’s with a discount. You are Eddie’s friend after all.” You were almost charging him just for the haircut, and Steve was not having it.

He frantically shook his head in protest. “No, no, Y/N. You don’t have to do that. I can pay you the full price, trust me.”

“Steve,” You chuckled, “It’s okay. I don’t give out many friends and family discounts, it’s not like I’m losing all that much money.”

He cocked an eyebrow at you challengingly. “Oh yeah? How much is the full price for highlights.”

You poked the inside of your cheek with your tongue, reluctantly mumbling out the price, which was much larger than what you were asking. “Absolutely not. Charge me the right amount.” Steve was not about to leave and let you basically have a free service. Not when you worked so hard.

“I’ll just tip you the rest if you don’t.” He smirked, eyes peering at you fondly when you sighed in exasperation.

“It’s seriously fine. I offered the extra service, you don’t have to pay for it.”

A lightbulb lit up in Steve’s head, eyes shining at the obvious opportunity. He’d be an idiot not to take it.

“Fine.” He sighed dramatically. “At least let me do something to pay you back for it. A service for a service, huh? What do you say?”

The corners of your mouth tilted up, betraying your efforts to keep a serious face. Steve was clearly not backing down. “Okay. What’d you have in mind?”

A pink rose to Steve’s freckled cheeks. “Let me take you on a date?”

Your breath hitched. You certainly felt the tension between the two of you ever since he walked in, but you really weren’t expecting anything to come from it.

Steve took your silence as a negative reaction. “Or-I could do anything else. Doesn’t have to be a date, really. I could buy you lunch one day or-“

“I’d love to.” His big brown eyes snapped up to meet your in surprise.

“Really?”

You nodded gleefully, unable to keep your grin from growing. You could feel your cheeks beginning to ache with how much you were smiling.

“Okay.” He whispered, ducking his head bashfully. Steve quickly pulled his wallet out, handing you the 10 dollar bill.

It took less than a minute for you to input his money in, ripping the receipt that printed it. Before you could hand it to him, you grabbed a pen and scribbled something on it.

“My house number. Give me a call?” You asked in a hopeful tone.

“Definitely.” Steve grinned and you repressed the urge to swoon. He sent you a cute little wave, leaving you in the salon smiling like an fool. As soon as he was out the door, your fellow stylists squealed, crowding around you and demanding details.

Steve faintly heard the high pitched noise, smirking to himself. Sliding into the drivers seat of his BMW, he sighed happily. “Yeah, I definitely owe Munson.”

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If I Rescue You, Will You Rescue Me, Too? Part 9

Welp, I have hit the end of my buffer. Thanks to food poisoning and catching my husband’s cold I’ve only been able to do my minimum daily word count. So posts will slow down a bit.

We get to the first part of the surprise and Eddie’s mind gets blow.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3  Part 4 Part 5  Part 6  Part 7  Part 8

*

Steve sat down the table and Eddie sat across him, picking up the menu.

“Steve,” Eddie murmured, “you can’t be serious. These are so fucking expensive, man.”

Steve laughed. “Don’t worry about it, Eddie. I’m treating you this weekend. Just get whatever you want.”

Eddie pursed his lips. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, man,” Steve assured him. “We could get a sampler, so we can try out a bunch of stuff and find out what you like.”

Eddie’s eyes lit up. “Hell, yeah!”

So they got a sampler of duck, surf and turf, and lamb. The surf consisted of lobster and clams, while the steak was done to a medium temperature.

They shared the meal with a glass of whiskey between them.

After the meal, Eddie decided he liked the steak, the duck, and clams.

“Duly noted,” Steve said with a grin. He raised his hand to request the bill but a man in a suit came over instead of their waiter.

“The bill has been taken care of by Mr Osbourne,” the man said. “He’s also ready for you when you are.”

Steve grinned. “I think we’re ready now.”

The man in the suit nodded and Steve and Eddie got up to follow him to the VIP lounge.

Steve could hear Eddie mutter the last name over and over again until they got about ten feet from a table that had a short man with a long brown hair and a round face. He wore round sunglasses that were perched on his nose so you could see his eyes. Steve knew that look. The man was stoned off his ass.

“Son of a bitch!” Eddie hissed. “Steve Harrington, you tell me right now are we really going to have drinks with Ozzy Osbourne of Black Sabbath?”

Steve turned to face him and the guy in the suit smirked.

“Yep!” he said with a soft easy smile. “And if he asks if you’re going to concert, the answer is yes.”

Eddie pursed his lips. “And would we be lying to the man?” As if that was the last thing he wanted to do.

Steve smirked and rolled his eyes. “No,” he scoffed. “I wouldn’t lie to a celebrity as big as Ozzy Osbourne.”

“I’m going to kill you,” Eddie growled.

“After the concert though, right?” Steve asked with a grin.

Eddie cocked his head to the side. “Yeah, after the concert.”

The man in the suit laughed. They sat down across from Ozzy and he smiled.

“I can already tell which one is the fan and which one is the guard dog for the evening,” Ozzy said with a smile.

Steve blushed. “I just wanted to do something nice for him after the earthquake and him losing everything.”

Ozzy smiled as Eddie blushed.

“You boys have tickets to the concert tomorrow?”

Steve nodded. “Metallica’s team is taking care of it.”

Eddie’s eyes went wide as Ozzy chuckled. “Then I’ll have a couple of goodie bags sent to your hotel room.”

The man in the suit nodded. “I’ll let Sharon know.”

Ozzy lit up. “Sharon is my wife. She takes care of everything for me!”

Eddie nodded. “I know, sir.”

Ozzy scoffed. “I’m no one’s ‘sir’. I’m too metal for that!”

Eddie suddenly blurted out his favorite song and then the two of were talking and laughing about music styles and sounds. Steve just sat back and watched.

He had been contacted by Ozzy’s team the day after he set up plans with Metallica also wanting to do something for Eddie. The thought was instead of finding their own ‘charity case’ they would just co-op Metallica’s. Which was fine by Steve. Getting to meet all of his heroes in one weekend? Steve would have been a fool to turn them down.

Occasionally Ozzy or Eddie would draw him into the conversation, but for the most part Steve was content to watch Eddie be so happy.

A couple hours and three drinks later, the man in the suit tapped on Ozzy’s shoulder and whispered in his ear.

“Sorry, guys,” he mumbled. “That’s me done for the night, I’ve got a party I’m going to with the blokes from Metallica. I’ll see tomorrow, lads!”

He was gently lured away and the man in the suit came back and said to continue to enjoy their evening as Ozzy had paid for their drinks. Eddie downed one of the drinks that had been left on the table and ordered another.

“Easy there,” Steve said. “You don’t want to be hung over for what I have planned for tomorrow.”

“Steve, Steve,” Eddie whined. “I can never repay you for just tonight, how the hell am I supposed to repay you if you continue to blow my mind?”

Steve put his hands in the air. “Don’t look at me, man. The original plan was to play the sympathy card and get a couple of cheap seats so you can go see the concert Wayne said you were trying to save money up for.”

Eddie whirled his finger at the hotel. “So how did all this happen?”

“They were already looking for ways to help out Hawkins when Nancy called,” Steve explained. “They were going to just donate money, but when she told them about a metal fan that loved their music so much that he learned their most recent single in three weeks by ear? The PR team was just positively salivating.”

“Wow,” Eddie said. “And Nancy set all this up?”

Steve shook his head. “Nope, she just gave them my number and I planned it all with them. I may not be able to plan how to take out liches and monsters, but cut me some slack, I do know how to plan a good date.”

Eddie raised an eyebrow. “So...Henderson and Red going on and on about how you defeated a pack of demodogs entirely by yourself is what? A fabrication? An exaggeration?” Steve blushed. “Don’t sell yourself short. This has been amazing. And we’re only on day one.”

“Tomorrow is going to be fun,” Steve promised.

“I can’t wait.”

*

They got back up to their hotel room and suddenly the adrenaline wore off. The long car ride coupled with the excitement of dinner and then drinks with Ozzy Osbourne had wore Eddie out.

“Fuck,” he said and face planted into the bed. “Why am I so tired?”

Steve sat down on the bed next to him. “Because your body is spending all it’s energy trying to heal. That’s why Dr Hathaway wants to check you out when I bring you back on Monday. To make sure all this didn’t set back your progress.”

“It sucks,” he mumbled.

Steve kissed the top of his head and got up to remove Eddie’s boots. He removed the dinner jacket next and then rolled Eddie over.

“You have two options,” he told the metalhead. “You can either crawl underneath the covers and pass out in your clothes. No judgment from me. You’re tired as fuck.”

Eddie raised an eyebrow. “And the other one?”

“Or I can help you get in your pajamas and then you can pass out,” Steve said.

Eddie wagged his eyebrows. “And if I told you that I sleep in the nude?”

Steve laughed. “I wouldn’t recommend it, not until the bandages come off, anyway. They’ll snag on the blankets and might rip off.”

Eddie winced. “Pajamas it is, then.”

Steve helped Eddie to his feet and helped him change into his pajamas. Which mostly consisted of Steve holding Eddie upright when he needed and handing him his clothes.  

Eddie snuggled up in the large bed and watched out of the corner of his eye, Steve getting ready for bed.

“The doc say anything about the road rash on your back and arms?” Eddie asked when he saw the still angry-looking burns when Steve pulled off his shirt.

Steve looked over his shoulder first at the scabbed over burn and then at Eddie. He shrugged. “Keep it clean. Keep it dry. And don’t do that ever again.”

Eddie rolled over on his back and propped himself up on his elbow. “You know, I starting to think I got the better deal than you did. And that’s never happened before. Rich boy always got preferential treatment over the poor boy.”

Steve sighed and turned around, pulling the soft shirt down over his chest. “It’s because by the time I got to the hospital there wasn’t much they could do. Some doctors take offense to that. I guess Dr Hathaway is one of those.”

He crawled into bed and into Eddie’s space. He laid back on the bed and let Eddie snuggle close.

“Thanks for tonight, Stevie,” he murmured.

Steve kissed his forehead. “You’re welcome, Eds. I’m happy to do this for you.”

*

Steve woke up to Eddie bouncing on the bed excitedly. “What’s the plan for today, sweetheart?”

He laughed. “First thing’s first. Breakfast. Room service provided. And then some shopping before lunch. Then if we have time before dinner, we’ll hang around like tourists. Then the concert at 7pm. Ozzy is opening, so I was told to make sure we were at the box office by 6:30pm.”

Eddie jumped off the bed and when he straightened he whimpered a small, “Ow.”

“Got a little too excited there, sunshine?” Steve asked as he got of bed. “Forgot you weren’t quite up to par yet?”

Eddie nodded with a pout.

“Let’s take a look and make sure nothing has opened back up, shall we?” Steve asked, tugging on the hem of Eddie’s shirt.

Eddie nodded and let Steve pull up the shirt. Steve ran his fingers over the bandages.

“Everything seems okay,” he murmured.

“Kay,” Eddie said, shyly.  

They ordered breakfast and got ready to go. They chatted happily through their meal, munching away on perfectly cooked bacon, light and fluffy French toast, and scrambled eggs.

“So are we coming back here before the concert then to change?” Eddie asked when Steve told him to just wear whatever.

“I figured we just come back here for dinner and change before we go,” he replied with a shrug.

Eddie nodded. “Sounds good, sweetheart. I’m assuming that by Jeff and them helping you out, they helped you with your clothes for tonight?”

Steve leaned in. “Oh, what’s the matter, sunshine? You afraid I’ll embarrass you in front of your favorite band?”

Eddie blushed. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

Steve kissed his cheek. “Of course you did. But it’s okay. I’m way ahead of you on that, Eds. I won’t look out of place.”

Eddie blushed deepened, flushing his ears and throat. “I just don’t want you to feel uncomfortable or out of place. I don’t want this to be torture for you. I want you to have fun, too.”

Steve pulled him in close and put his hands on Eddie’s hips. “I know you do. I was only teasing. The one thing I’m worried about is the flashing lights and whether or not I’ll have to pull out my sunglasses.”

“What’s up with that?” Eddie asked, tilting his head in confusion.

“Oh, that’s right,” Steve said. “You haven’t been in the party long enough to know. As part of the many side effects of my many concussions, I get migraines. Flashing lights can trigger them.”

Eddie hugged him. “Are you sure you’re going to be okay tonight?”

Steve leaned back far enough to kiss him. “Yeah, sunshine. I promise. I and Nancy have planned for every eventuality. I’ll be fine. Besides, I won’t be watching the band. The only show I’m interested in, is watching you light up like rich kid on Christmas morning.”

Eddie giggled. “All right, sweetheart. I’ll trust you know what you’re doing.”

“You ready for the best day of your life?”

Eddie’s giggle turned into a full on laugh. “Yeah, babe. Let’s go.”

Part 10  Part 11  Part 12 Part 13 Part 14  Part 15 Part 16 Part 17  Part 18  Part 19  Part 20

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