#a queue above gorgeous

[teyums]

His Secret Admirer - Neteyam x fem na’vi reader

part two | part three | part four |bonus chapter

wc: 6.7k

a/n: Welcome to my Neteyam X reader series! This first part is kind of a slow burn to establish the plot so there is not much action as I hate when things are rushed. But it is cute and a bit fluffy 🤭 The events of The Way of Water never happened in this series, so this is based in the forest. Enjoy!

Neteyam is 19, reader is 18 in this series.

contains: slight fluff, as little use of y/n as possible, very minor mention of 🪦 (one time)

For as long as you could remember, you had the biggest crush on Neteyam Sully.

You couldn’t help it. He was the sweetest man in the entire clan and he acted much differently from the others. Never cocky, never boastful. It made your heart skip a beat just thinking about how he had always unapologetically been him - a genuine sweetheart and over protective from the start.

The two of you were not strangers, in fact, his presence was quite familiar to you. Throughout your younger years he would protect you from the harsh words of the other kids after witnessing you being bullied the first time. Upon finding out you spent most of your time alone and had no friends, he invited you to hang around him and his siblings with a promise of belonging. You hadn’t realized what an honor that was until you got older.

His brother and sister, Lo’ak and Kiri, quickly took a liking to you and became the friends you never had. But unfortunately for you and Neteyam, the progression of your story was cut short. As the years passed his schedule became bombarded with training duties, leaving him busy basically 24/7 and eventually causing your friendship to become less of a priority. You were hurt, but you had to understand it wasn’t personal. Once he got to a certain age, his parents allowed him to have fun and hang out with kids his age less and less; giving him constant reminders of the shoes he would grow to fill. Apparently, he had to spend every living and breathing moment training for a position you weren’t even sure he actually wanted.

Growing up, your mother told you that crushes were very simple and lighthearted. Something that was meant to make your heart flutter and your cheeks rosy. But having a crush on Neteyam was actually the exact opposite. This was Jake Sully’s son we were talking about. Girls fawned over him everyday, rightfully so. But watching them trail closely behind him as if he were metal and them magnets made your heart pang with jealousy. You knew you would never have a chance, and even if you did, there were probably so many other girls above you on the imaginary list that already had his attention. He would surely never make it down to your name once it came time for him to choose a mate.

Loving him was like yearning for something you didn’t even know existed. It was like opening your mouth to speak but remembering you didn’t have a voice to use. You weren’t a hunter or a healer, you couldn’t sing and you most definitely were not the beauty queen of the clan. You weren’t anything special, so how could you ever think you had a chance to call him yours?

“Nete-yammm” A gorgeous, tall na’vi giggled with a sing song tone, reaching out to caress any area of his body that didn’t already have a three fingered hand touching it. You cringed at the sound of her voice. That was Eyiti, the daughter of an amazing healer in your clan and probably first on his list to be his Tsahik. You absolutely loathed her, the way her eyelashes batted in his direction and how her stride became flirtatious when he was around to make the long braid that covered her queue sway side to side.

You definitely had your reasons for disliking her, one of them being that when you all were younger she had purposely tripped you and caused you to faceplant in the mud right in front of Neteyam. He had so much faith in everyone that he hadn’t even seen her foot conveniently stick out in front of you when you excitedly walked towards him. Before he could reach an arm out to help you up his dad had whisked him away, reminding him he had responsibilities he needed to tend to and at this point girls were the least of his worries.

“Is there anything we can do for you? Do you need your hair re-braided? A massage maybe?” The group asked, snapping you out of your bitter flashback when multiple different voices chirped, taking turns to offer him favors. You watched them swarm around him like vultures, his eyes searching for a way out of the circle.

“Yes, perhaps a massage! Your muscles must be sooo sore from your hunt yesterday.” Yet another voice chimed in, she literally looked like she wanted to eat the flesh off his bones and you rolled your eyes in annoyance. Why couldn’t they just leave him alone?

“Neteyam! Are you hungry? I can make something good for you to eat. You need all the energy you can get for your training later, right?”

“No!” Another na’vi woman hissed, latching onto one of his toned arms and hugging it. She almost knocked him over with the force that came from her launching herself at him. You watched him stumble to the side a bit, his stance awkward and stiff as his cheeks flushed due to all the overwhelming attention. Jeez, was she trying to hug his arm or rip it off his body to take it home with her?  You didn’t know but honestly you wouldn’t be surprised if that was her intention, these women were insane. They looked like little girls fighting over a doll with the way they were pulling him back and forth by his biceps.

“Girls, please” He spoke softly and forced a smile on his face in attempt to not hurt their feelings, or worse; make them more hostile than they already were. “I am okay, really. I do not need any of you to do anything for me other than enjoy your day. You all are…” he paused before continuing, “very beautiful and nice women but I truly must be going, I cannot be late for my meeting with my father.”

The mention of a discussion of the future with his father earned many dreamy sounding sighs from his personal fan club.

Your face grew hot when you noticed his eyes look up at you, seemingly begging for help with an almost panicked smile on his face. You pressed your lips together to stifle your laugh, then raised your hands in surrender on either side of your head to silently communicate to him that he was indeed on his own with this. You knew he’d be alright seeing as he dealt with this almost daily, but you also knew he was growing tired of it. Poor Neteyam was too nice to hurt their feelings, but even if you tried to help him what could you do? They’d probably tear you apart if you walked up and attempted to steal him away from their grasp. You sure as hell weren’t going to draw attention to yourself by intervening.

Thankfully for him, you heard Neytiri’s sharp voice yell his name from a different direction, causing the girls around him to jump and straighten up in fear of our Tsahik witnessing them behave in such a shameful manner. And from the sound of his mother’s voice- he was definitely late for that meeting. His ears perked up in alert but the expression on his face only showed relief due to her timely save.

“Gotta go girls!” He exclaimed with haste, sounding more excited now than he had their entire interaction. You sighed to yourself and gave him a subtle wave with a gentle smile, watching him take the extra second he didn’t have to smile back at you before he slipped through the small crowd and damn near sprinted to safety.

Your smile grew bigger as you watched him escape, soaking in the way his eyes had previously just held contact with yours for longer than they needed to. A daydream would have washed over you had you not felt the glares of his desperate admirers trying to burn holes through your head. You cleared your throat to break the awkward silence and swiftly turned on your heels, realizing it probably wasn’t the best idea to continue standing there if you valued your life.

~ a few hours later ~

Eclipse had now envelloped a previously sunny day, stealing the sky away and taking the sun’s place for the rest of the night. You sat with your mom on the floor of your hut, just having finished a wonderfully made dinner. “Mama, would you like help with the dishes?” You knew better than to excuse yourself before offering your assistance.

“No no, child. Go on, I know you want to take as much time as you possibly can before it gets late.” She smiled up at you and shooed you out with her hand, the wrinkles creased next to her eyes served in reminding you of how grateful you were to have had your mother by your side all these years.

“Yes mama, thank you.” Nodding your head, you at least stacked the dishes into each other to help as much as you could before you thanked her, quickly standing up from where the two of you were kneeling on the floor.

Your mother quietly laughed to herself at your excitement as you skipped to the doorway, surprised at how you didn’t trip over your own two feet as you gathered your things. You pushed through the curtains that served as a doorway to your home and once stepping foot outside, you felt your lungs expand to take a deep inhale and breathe in the crisp night air.

Almost everyday after dinner, you would excuse yourself with the permission of your mother and embark on a stroll through the forest. At first, she wouldn’t allow you to go more than half a mile without her. Her fears derived from the fact that you were no hunter and you did not like to carry weapons, meaning you could not protect yourself if the time called for it. But upon realizing you had a deep connection with the animals of the forest (and came back unscathed every time) her rules relaxed and her trust in you flourished. Even the Palulukan paid you no mind - you would still bring small chunks of meat with you though, just in case.

You expertly leaped from tree to tree with little to no time between. After taking the same path day by day it was muscle memory by now. You used the ball of your foot to stabilize your landing on the thick branches after each jump, and your opposite leg carried you to the next. This was your favorite part of everyday, traveling through the breathtaking forest with your own two legs and being able to really appreciate the vast land you called home. The way the rough, damp tree bark felt against your toes; the small chirps and mating calls of animals below you that filled your ears. You much preferred it to flying on an Ikran; they were loud and would scare away the small animals of the forest before you could say hello.

Before you knew it, you had reached your quiet hideaway above the waterfalls. A sigh of relief left your lips as you leisurely made your way up onto the bank of the cliffside; the ground illuminating briefly in the spots where you had stepped. Careful to not crush the flowers that had just recently bloomed, you crouched down closer to the ground to collect one of the things you came for. Pulling the bag you had brought with from behind your body, you patiently searched through the vegetation until locating one of your mother’s favorite herbs for stews, and another for salves.

That was the deal the two of you had made. If you were going to be out exploring the forest without her, you might as well make yourself useful and and collect what’s needed for the house. You didn’t mind though, your mother was getting older and you would do anything to make her job easier. Your father had died during the battle with the sky people almost twenty years ago and was one of many casualties. He was gone before your mother even had the chance to tell him she was pregnant. Every time you expressed sadness about it, she would hug you and remind you that he died with honor; fighting along side his people and protecting what was left of home tree. She gave birth nine months after his passing and raised you alone. She was offered help from the village, but did not want to accept pity. “We are all struggling from the aftermath of this war, not just I.” She would humbly say. She truly was the strongest person you knew.

After gathering a good amount, you gently reclined and rested against the large tree trunk that had been supporting your back for a couple weeks now. Closing your eyes, you let the sounds of the water crashing into the rocks below invite you into a calm, lucid state - the beat of your heart slowing to a steady rhythm as you lay in nature.

The serene forest awarded you with its peaceful lullaby for about fifteen minutes before the crunch of a twig snapping interrupted your meditation. You gasped quietly, whipping your head around in alert, your eyes straining to try and see through the trees. Not many animals came this high up into the forest, mostly birds or the Syaksyuk (night lemurs) swinging through the trees above. But these steps sounded heavy and that made your ears lower with worry.

“Who’s there!” You called out, rising to your feet with your hands prepped on your bag to secure your mother’s herbs in case you had to make a run for it. You squinted your eyes at the darkness in confusion, the sounds of the leaves crunching were not frequent enough to be the result of multiple feet.

“Ow! Damnit,” You heard a familiar voice curse, your ears perking back up when a tall na’vi with long braids emerged into your view.

“Neteyam?”  

He whipped his head up to look at you, his braids swaying to the other side of his head in sync with him. “[Y/n]?” He questioned right back at you. “What are you doing here? It’s late, you know.” He warned, brushing off his shoulder and looking around.  “Are you alone?”

Still confused by his sudden appearance, you shook your head slightly. “I come here almost every night, and yes I’m… alone,” you spoke, your voice quieting with the last word that left your lips as you looked at him in bewilderment. Your eyes traveled from every inch of his body and you found yourself gawking at how he looked even more beautiful while under the moonlight. Your attention quickly averted when his gaze found its way back to you, raising your head and stabilizing your tone. “Forget about me, what are you doing here?”

He noticed you staring but decided against addressing it. He chuckled and shook his head, “I too come here often,, but only during the day. The forest is very dangerous outside of our village at night, [Y/n].” He said softly and took a step closer. It almost looked as if he were worried about you.

“Yes, I-” You felt the urge to take one backwards but your feet stayed planted in the grass, your brain reminding you that you’re literally standing on a cliff right now. “I’m aware of the dangers,” you continued. “But the animals don’t pay me any mind, I actually think they sort of like me. And I always bring scraps of food, just in case.”

He nodded, seemingly approving your method of preparation.

“I don’t have anymore, though. The forest is a bit quiet tonight so I gave it all to a Palulukan I saw a little ways back.”

Neteyam’s eyes almost popped out of his head as he took a step closer to you once more, in an attempt to make sure the words he heard were correct. “A- a Palulukan?” He questioned, “Like, those six-legged creatures that will tear your head off without thinking? Are you feeling alright?” His face washed over with genuine concern as he brought a three fingered hand up to feel your forehead.

“Yes, Neteyam.” You giggled at his astonishment.  “I know what a Palulukan is, you skxawng.” You teased with an eyeroll and gently shooed his hand away, speaking up again to extinguish his worries. “But really, I’m fine. See?” You nodded slowly, extending your arms out to him to show your lack of injury.

“Huh, no scratches…” His eyes trailed along your smooth skin and you felt goosebumps prickle down your arms. You hadn’t remembered it being chilly tonight.

“No scratches,” you parroted, turning your back to him and returning to your previous resting area. “Come, sit with me.”

The corners of Neteyam’s mouth moved to form a small grin and he nodded his head in silent agreeance, taking you up on your invitation and sitting down next to you. He mimicked your movement, scooting back to relax against the base of the tree. A loud sigh of genuine relief could be heard from him and to you it sounded like he had been holding it in all day. You had your attention focused on the soft blades of grass that tickled your legs, suddenly tilting your head to the side with a new found query.

“Wait,” You started, earning a curious hum from him that permitted you to continue. “I thought you said you come here during the day time? Correct me if I’m wrong but, it looks pretty dark out here right now.” You joked.

Neteyam was always so lighthearted and easy going, so your eyebrows furrowed at him when he continued to stare straight forward at the waterfall across the ravine. You had expected him to laugh or at least crack a smile like he always did at one of your jokes, but he looked conflicted when he answered. “I just… I had to get away from my parents for a little while. They’re driving me crazy.” He grumbled.

Oh my Eywa, I’m such an idiot. This is the first time in years we’ve been completely alone and I’ve already soured his mood.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-“

“No,” He interrupted, turning his head to look at you with a smile that instantly calmed your nerves. “Don’t feel bad, it is not your fault… Besides, I’m glad I came when I did. Had I gone earlier, I wouldn’t have gotten to see you.” His voice laced thick with his accent, you felt your stomach swarm with butterflies at the feeling of his large hand now resting atop yours.  His warm yellow eyes glistened, looking even more beautiful to you than the stars above your heads. Your lips parted slightly while the two of you sat there appreciating each other’s presence, his smile growing wider when he cocked his head to the side at the apparent loss of your train of thought.

Your eyes fell from his and focused themselves on your overlapped hands so you could blush in peace, earning a quiet snicker and a head shake from him. “Yes...” you finally responded, looking back up once you confirmed your heart wouldn’t explode and ruin the moment. “It has been a while since we hung-out.” You smiled, your tone mellow.

The two of you sat with each other for a while. Time passed so quickly whenever you were around him that you didn’t even know how long it had been. You talked about everything. His parents, how your mother was doing, and overall what he’d been up to. There was never a boring moment with Neteyam. At one point you expressed interest in his training, but the excitement was not reciprocated so you dropped the topic and instead joined in stargazing with him.

“So… How was that meeting you had earlier, with your parents?” You cleared your throat and spoke up after a bit, breaking the silence.

He scoffed and scratched his head lightly, throwing his arm up in an annoyed gesture. “Stupid and unnecessary. They tell me the same thing everyday as if I don’t already know.”

“What is it now? Are they scolding you for Lo’ak’s antics again?” You giggled at his aggravated huff in response to your question, using this moment to your advantage and gently resting your head on his shoulder. You genuinely thought it would be something along those lines. But when he hesitated before letting you in on exactly what they were pestering him about, you became worried.

“They want me to find a mate. Soon.”

His shoulders tensed and you blinked in disbelief at his words, your body slouching slightly against his arm with disappointment. The words that left his lips were not at all what you had been expecting. “Oh…” Your voice was almost a whisper with how hushed it was and you were glad he couldn’t see your face right now. A thousand thoughts clouded your brain at once, were they due to surprise at what he said, or fear?

“I’m not ready.” His voice snapped you out of your pity party, and you remembered that this wasn’t about you. It was about him. You had to set aside your feelings and hear him out. You guys were just friends anyway, and what else are friends for, right?

You laughed dryly, cringing after at how forced it sounded. “I think you’re just nervous, Neteyam. Besides, you have loads of options to choose from. Any one of your admirers from earlier will do fine.” You shrugged and tried to sound as encouraging as possible, picking the petals from a flower that you had taken into your grasp after you removed your hand from his.

“None of those women will ever be my mate.” He stated sternly, as if he sounded offended that you had even suggested it. His voice was calm and the volume low, but the tone he said it in made your breath falter. “Those are not the kind of women I want. They only see me for my status in the clan.” He mumbled, his feelings sounding hurt.

You sat up and turned your body towards him, dipping your head to try and meet his avoidant eyes. “’Teyam…” you said solemnly. He still hadn’t met your eyes but his ears perked up slightly in response to the old nickname you had for him. Watching him pick blades of grass out of the ground to distract himself from the conversation, you sighed to yourself in frustration. Not at him, but at the fact that the constant reiteration of the importance of his training throughout the years really had him thinking such a thing. “Look at me.”

His head lifted slowly but his eyes wouldn’t stay on your face. He gnawed at the inside of his bottom lip, feeling embarrassed for even bringing it up.

“You-” grabbing his hand in both of yours, you shook it slightly for emphasis and squeezed firmly, “-are so much more than a title, and you know that. You are worth so much more. Do you hear me, Neteyam?” Your gaze held strong and your shyness had no control over you at this point. You wanted to make sure he understood what you were saying. You wanted to make sure he knew you were telling the truth. You needed him to.

His eyes finally locked on yours and it was his turn to feel shy this time. A small smile broke through his previous frown, and his eyes fell to your lips for a split second before he looked back up at you. “Okay.” He answered, sounding satisfied with your reassurance and stroking the back of your hand with the pad of his thumb as a thank you.

The air between the two of you felt electric when you remembered you were still holding his hand. Your chest began to rise and fall with weighted breaths when you noticed he seemed to be admiring your features. You cursed yourself for wondering what it would feel like to kiss him- thinking about how well your lips would pair with his. Your intense feelings for him had calmed slightly due to his absence, but now you felt them bubbling up and threatening to burst through the surface all over again.

A loud horn sounded suddenly, interrupting your thoughts and signaling the end of a day. The both of you jumped and your hands retracted, startled out of your intimate interaction.

“Oh my Eywa… I was supposed to be home almost an hour ago!” You exclaimed, sounding panicked as you rushed to grab your things.

Neteyam’s eyes widened and he immediately stood up, looking equally as panicked upon remembering what happened the last time he got you home late to your mother when you guys were younger.

“I-I’m sorry, this is all my fault. I distracted you.” Rubbing the back of his neck with his hand, he eagerly extended his free one out to help you up while sounding apologetic. “Come, I’ll take you home.”

You accepted his offer and allowed him to assist you to your feet, shaking your head repeatedly as you stood in front of him. “No, no. This is on me, I completely lost track of time.”

Though it wasn’t his fault you had stayed out much too late into the night, he was right about one thing. He was able to distract you so easily, you became clumsy in his presence. You mindlessly took a wrong step to the side, crying out in pain when your foot came in contact with the thorn bush you usually remember to avoid- it’s sharp and thick thorns piercing through your skin.

“What? What is it? What happened?” Neteyam questioned frantically, his voice loud and riddled with worry when you yelled and helplessly clutched onto his biceps for support.

Pain shot like lightning through your leg and with your eyes tightly shut you hissed out an answer. “M-my foot, I-” you managed to get out between sharp inhales, another cry of pain interrupting your sentence when you attempted to lower your foot to see if you could walk.

“No!” Neteyam spoke against your movement, sighing when his advice came too late. “You cannot walk like this, hold onto me and keep your foot raised.”

Now, if it didn’t feel like your entire leg was on fire, you probably would’ve crumbled at the feeling of his warm hand sliding between the fold behind your knee and lifting it slightly to assist you with his instructions.  The two of you were in such a compromising position, yet you couldn’t even enjoy it.

“Maybe we should sit down-“

You hopped a bit and shook your head, sliding your arms around his neck to reduce the weight burdened on your free leg as he held your thigh. “The thorns, they’re poisonous,” you breathed out. “I have to get home.”

“Poi-“ His mouth fell open in shock, almost repeating the word that had alarmed him. His jaw clenched seeing you in pain, he felt bad knowing he wasn’t able to help. “Can you fly? Call your ikran, now.”

“I can’t-“

“How foolish of me, you probably cannot fly. We will go on mine.” Before you could get another word out he raised his pointer finger and thumb to his lips with haste, resulting in a crisp, loud whistle.

The truth is… you couldn’t fly even if you wanted to. You never tamed an Ikran of your own and you were deathly afraid of flying. Because of this, you traveled solely by foot and had no intention of changing that. Until now.

You squealed in fear when his Ikran dropped down onto the cliffside in an instant, turning and shielding your face from its sharp, flapping wings. “Neteyam-“

“Come, we must go. There’s no time.” He urged, his eyes locked on your trembling foot as he waited for you to move.

“Wait!” you raised your voice, only to get his attention. “I’m… I’m scared of flying. Terrified.” You gulped, now looking at the giant creature but careful to not make direct eye contact.

“You are?” His voice was soft, intent on not making you feel bad for something you couldn’t control. He looked conflicted. Neteyam was never the type of man to make you do something you didn’t want to do, but he truly had no choice.  “[Y/n], I am sorry, but we must. We need to tend to your wound as soon as possible. I understand your fear, so I will tell her to fly slow. No sharp tuns or dips, yes?”

Closing your eyes for a second, you sighed and slowly nodded your head. You attempted to calm yourself and slow your breathing as best as you could, knowing there was no other option but to face your fear. He waited for you to prepare yourself before swooping his arm below your legs and lifting you off the ground gently.

You actually wanted to kick yourself. To be in his arms was everything you wanted and more, minus the raging pain paired with numbness that was slowly starting to travel past your toes. You tightened your hold on his neck once arriving at the Ikran’s saddle and he felt your body tense against him.

“Mawey, [Y/n]. It will be alright, I promise.” Delicately placing you down on the back of his Ikran, he motioned for you to swing your other leg over before climbing on in front of you. “Hold here.” He reached behind him and grasped your hands, bringing them forward and positioning your palms  to lay flat on his toned chest.

Your heart was beating so fast, you were surprised you even heard his voice through the loud thumping ringing in your ears.

“You feel my heart?”

“Y-yes.” You nodded almost as soon as the question left his mouth. His heart was the only thing you could feel. Hell, you couldn’t even feel your legs but you knew the numbing poison hadn’t travelled through your bloodstream that fast. You prayed they would regain feeling so you wouldn’t fall off this giant bird.

“Slow your breathing, listen to the beat of my heart and allow yours to do the same.” He instructed calmly, fastening his hands on the reigns.

You swallowed what felt like a giant lump in your throat, scooting closer to him and leaning forward to press your front against his back as he prepared to take off. The feeling of your skin against his was enough to make your breath shudder, but you really couldn’t use anymore excitement right now. “What if I fall?” You whispered.

“Nonsense,” He chuckled lowly and the vibration of his voice could be felt against your cheek. “You know I’d never let anything happen to you.”

You pulled back ever so slightly, your mouth agape and your eyes staring at the back of his head in disbelief at how easily those words came to him. However, your moment of pondering was cut short when he beckoned his Ikran to take off, your grip retightening and your body gluing back to his instantly. The large animal squawked before plunging itself off the cliff, resulting in a frightened scream from you.

“Tamtam, Saya. We have a new rider with us, and she’s a bit fearful.”  Pulling up slightly, he used one of his hands to softly pat her strong neck to soothe her. The animal listened to his demands, flying steadily and slowing her pace to a gentle glide through the air. “How are you doing back there?” He asked, as if your nails digging crescent marks into his pecs couldn’t give him the answer he searched for.

Finally opening your eyes, you carefully peeked over your shoulder and peered down at the forest below you, letting out a small gasp. Softening the grip you had on the man in front of you, your eyes twinkled with admiration. “Neteyam, i-it’s beautiful…” you spoke in awe. You had never seen the forest from above until now and experiencing such a sight with him made you feel as if you had been missing out this entire time. You almost completely forgot about the fear that consumed you just a few minutes prior.

After a few more minutes, Saya began to descend in front of your home- pulling you out of the spell the beauty of the forest had cast on you. The flight came to a gradual halt and her wings flapped in place to cushion the landing as much as possible. You saw the flickering of candle flame illuminating from inside.

Oh no. Please don’t be awake, please don’t be awake, please do not be awake.

Silently cursing yourself, you removed your hands from Neteyam’s chest. You secretly pouted at the sudden lack of warmth, but right now you had bigger issues to tend to- one of them being facing your mother. Neteyam dismounted swiftly, giving you a reassuring look and allowing you time to slide one of your arms around his neck before lifting you off, carrying you bridal style. “Not so bad, huh?”

Both your heads snapped to the entrance of your home as you watched your mother run out before you could answer him. “[Y/N!]” She yelled, not caring if her voice carried to the other homes. “Where have you been?!”

She looked worried sick, you felt terrible.

“Neteyam?” She questioned, obviously confused as to why he was with you- or maybe why you weren’t standing on your own two feet.

“Hi Ma…” You started, earning an angry glare from her. “I can explain.”

She whipped a hand up and closed her fingers, effectively silencing you as she turned her gaze back to Neteyam. “Young man, what were you doing with my daughter, this late in the night?” Her voice was eerily calm.

He lowered his head slightly to show respect. “I am sorry, I will explain everything… but your daughter is injured and we must tend to it, immediately.”

Her expression changed instantly, her eyes searching to find a wound until she noticed your swollen foot. “Oh my goodness… Come!” She demanded, urging Neteyam to bring you into the house.

“Place her down, here. Gently.”

He did as he was told and crouched down, removing his arm from beneath your legs once you sat down completely. He ran his now sweaty hands along his thighs and with his mouth in the shape of an ‘O’ he exhaled nervously, standing and obediently placing himself against the wall. He looked scared shitless and was more than happy to remove his hands from your skin in the presence of your agitated mother. You looked up at him apologetically, mouthing a silent ‘I’m sorry’.

You winced in pain at your throbbing foot, taking over for Neteyam and explaining to your mother what had happened before she could ask again. “I-I stepped in a thorn bush,” You paused, reluctantly continuing your sentence. “the poisonous one…”

She hissed in distaste, her back to you as she gathered what was needed to make medicine. “Everyday you go out, what do I tell you?” She seethed.

“Be care-“

“To be careful!” She cut you off before you could finish and you winced again, but not because of your foot. She lowered herself to the ground and propped your foot up on her leg to examine it. “You are lucky, child. The thorns could have broken off in your foot and put you in much worse shape.” She grumbled, wetting a cloth and using it to clean the dried blood from your skin.

“I know, and I’m sorry. I lost track of time and got distracted.” The pain began to subside as the poison completely numbed your foot, now working its way up your calf.

You watched her gaze shift to a nervous Neteyam who stood stiff and silent against the walls of your hut, looking at him suspiciously while he tried to find the right words to use.

“Ma, please.” You pleaded, your voice bringing her attention back to you like you wanted. “It was not like that, I swear it. He found me after I stepped on the thorns, had it not been for him I would not have been able to make it back.” You had lied a bit, but it was mostly the truth. “He had nothing to do with this, it was all my fault. He only helped me home, Mama.” You didn’t want her blaming Neteyam for something that wasn’t his doing, he had enough of that at home. Your mother was extremely protective over you because of what happened to your father, you were all she had left so she always came on strong at first when it concerned you.

She became quiet in a moment of contemplation, “I apologize, Neteyam. Thank you for bringing my daughter back to me safely.” She nodded her head, looking up at Neteyam with gratitude this time.

He smiled shyly as if it were no big deal, holding his arm with one hand as he dropped his head and shook it from from side to side, his braids following suit. He hadn’t changed a bit. Always quick to take the blame, but never to accept praise.

“Will your parents be angry with you?” You chimed in, looking at him worriedly. He already had so much on his plate, you felt bad at the thought of contributing. You relaxed slightly once he shook his head in attempt to assure you that he would be okay.

“It is fine, really. Making sure you are safe is far more important to me.” He responded, looking into your eyes and keeping them there until your mother cleared her throat to remind the two of you of her presence.  “Ah, but I really should be going. It is late.” He swallowed, managing to tear his eyes away from your face. “Will she be alright?”

Your mother nodded, wiping the wet cloth along the sole of your foot once more. “Yes, thanks to you. Please, greet your parents for me?”

You watched as he brought two fingers up to his forehead then brought them back down with a slight bow, respectfully acknowledging your mother and excusing himself.

“Goodnight…” You sent him off with a coy wave, bringing your fingers up to gently rest against your lips as you watched him leave. The second he was out of your sight, everything that had just transpired in the last hour and a half began to wash back over you.

Thanking Eywa that your mother’s back was turned to grab few ingredients for an ointment, you looked to the side and picked up your bag, feeling slightly guilty. “I brought your herbs, mama. I’m sorry you have to waste them on me.” Your voice trailed off as you ushered them off in her direction.

“Nonsense. When it comes to you, nothing is a waste. We can always get more herbs, but I only have one of you. Do you understand?” She reassured, her hand on your cheek to comfort you before reaching for your bag. “You mean much more to me than any of these things.”

Your shoulders relaxed and you leaned into her touch with a sweet smile and a nod, grateful you had such a caring mother. You watched as she expertly ground up the herbs with a bit of aloe vera, her technique crafting it into paste that would aid in the healing of your injury. She dipped two of her fingers into the bowl, gently applying it to the puncture marks in your flesh.

“So…” She started, her voice laced with curiosity.

You groaned, bringing your hands up to cover your face in embarrassment as you already knew a boatload of questions were about to follow. Regardless of how tough your mother could be with him, she was surprisingly supportive of your crush on Neteyam and even encouraged it. You always made sure to tell her what a respectful young man he was.

“I haven’t even said anything yet!” She laughed, grabbing the bandage next to her and wrapping it around your foot as she continued. “Look, I just think you should go for it. You should to tell him how you feel, don’t you think he deserves to know?”

You sighed and looked down at your hands, twiddling with your fingers as you thought of what to say. “I don’t know Ma… I don’t want to get hurt. His parents want him to find a mate now, but he said he isn’t ready.”

“My sweet child,” Your mom took your hands into hers, causing you to look up at her.  “He is waiting for you.”

a/n: Alright y’all, the first part of my Neteyam x reader series is doneeee ahh I’m so excited!! Isn’t Neteyam the sweetest? 🙈 I really hope you guys enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it! It took about three days and so many grueling proof reads, so if they’re still any typos I missed I apologize. 😅 I am actively tweaking my brain for more ideas for the upcoming parts, so please forgive me if part 2 takes a second to drop. lmk if you want to be tagged! 💞

Please like + reblog if you can it’s much appreciated 💞

#avatar 2 #neteyam #neteyam fic #neteyam x reader #neteyam sully #neteyam x you #avatar way of water #avatar twow #neteyam fluff #neteyam avatar #neteyam fanfiction #neteyam x y/n

[simpforboys]

meeting the master

neteyam sully x fem!metkayina!reader

summary: when neteyam gets invited to one of your famous parties, he’s not too sure why. he knows of you, but doesn’t know you. you change that.

warnings: fluff, neteyam checking you out, you checking him out

aged up characters ofc, not proof read

this is high key based off the great gatsby fyi🤞

“neteyam! you have to come to y/n’s party tonight!” mukata exclaimed.

he was one of the boys neteyam and his brother quickly befriended in awa’atlu.

neteyam’s ears twitched at your name.

everyone always raved about your parties, how charming and beautiful you were. but neteyam had never seen you.

the more and more he heard about you, the more it intrigued him. how can someone be so great to a whole clan?

that night, deep into the ocean on an island, neteyam disconnected his queue to the ilu. his feet hit the cold sand as he pushed his braids out of his face.

loud cultural music consumed his upturned ears as they twitched from the noise. there were easily over three hundred clan members on the island.

neteyam suddenly felt very insecure. he was the only omatikaya- standing alone- in the middle of a crowded party.

“neteyam!” mukata ushered the man over. neteyam silently thanked eywa for not making him stand alone any longer.

“isn’t this great? one of y/n’s best!” mukata commented, his almond eyes blinking quickly.

“very… lavish.”

throughout the night, neteyam sipped on a specialty drink that was made specifically for that night.

he began to wonder where you actually were. really, he just didn’t know what you looked like.

some metkayina girls approached neteyam, batting their eyelashes and flirting with him.

“have you met y/n yet?” leyra asked.

“i have not.”

“she is like royalty. if tsireya wasn’t the chief’s daughter, everyone would believe y/n is.”

“i’ve heard that she has eaten people.” eyrina said, her voice barely above a whisper.

neteyam’s brow bone raised as his ears twitched.

“don’t be ridiculous-“ leyra gently slapped her friend.

“i believe my friend is calling me,” neteyam dismissed himself. he needed fresh air- the party atmosphere was extremely overwhelming.

he pushed through some brush and found a woman. long curly hair cascaded down her back in a V shape, a fancy loincloth that had shells and pearls decorated on the waist. it hung low on her hips and jewelry filled her finned-arms.

“hello?” he asked softly.

you turned around to hear the voice that startled you. a tall man with broad shoulders and- it was one of the sullys.

the sully family had arrived in awa’atlu a few weeks prior. you blinked your eyes at him, your second eyelid showing as it took a second to disappear.

“hi.”

“getting some air?” he questioned you, joining you to stand by the ocean.

“yes, same with you?” you asked.

“yes ma’am, i needed a break from the crowd.”

you were beyond gorgeous. a flower was tucked behind your ear, purposely balanced on the flesh. you had big, doe eyes that sparkled in the moonlight.

it quickly made neteyam flustered.

his freckles were illuminated under the moon as you stared at him, the white dots seeming placed from eywa in a particular manner.

he was a very handsome man, with almost eight inches of height between your heads.

“i understand. who invited you?” you asked him, your voice gentle as you gazed down at his veiny hands.

“mukata, he said this would be y/n’s biggest party yet. although, i still haven’t met her. and really, i’ve heard so much about her yet i’m surprised she didn’t have a grand entrance to the party introducing herself.”

neteyam felt himself ramble, his eyes finally going to meet your face. you had a blank expression, one he couldn’t read.

“i guess i haven’t been a good host then,” you shrugged.

“what?” neteyam asked, his heart dropping.

you laughed at the man.

“i’m y/n, nice to meet you…”

“neteyam.”

“nice to meet you, neteyam.”

“ngaytxoa (my apologies), y/n, i didn’t know-“

“it’s okay, neteyam.”

you reassurance only made him feel a little better, however the overwhelming guilt was larger.

“no really, i-“

“neteyam, it is fine.” you placed your hand on his bicep, the muscle flexing under your touch. neteyam suddenly realized he was extremely touched starved and craved more of it.

a crimson pink made its way onto his cheeks as he looked out onto the ocean.

“do you want to know a secret?” you whispered, lifting yourself on the tips of your toes to reach his ear.

he softly purred, making your heart stammer.

“i do not really care for parties.”

neteyam turned to look at you, a confused look on his face.

“then why do you throw them?”

you shrugged at the man.

“if i don’t, then this island will remain boring forever.”

neteyam’s ears faltered as you turned to look out at the sea.

“i love the ocean and my home, but sometimes i need change.”

“like a forest?”

you looked back at neteyam to see him giving you a small smile. you grinned back.

“perhaps a forest.”

you and neteyam spent all night talking about your homes, the reason him and his family came to awa’atlu, and many other things.

the sunrise was quickly coming as you rubbed your eyes.

neteyam was laying on the sand next to you as you hugged your knees to your chest, continuing to babble on and on about your lives.

and while you two talked for hours, there was never an awkward moment. everything just felt right.

“i guess we should head back to the main land.” you suggested, seeing the fisherman off in the distance.

neteyam agreed, standing up. he offered you his hand, an electric shock going through both of you as your finned hand connected with his.

he was much stronger than you, his back filled with muscles. and sand.

“neteyam, you have sand on your back.”

without waiting for him to answer, you stepped behind him and ran your hands over his deep blue skin. the stripped patterns looked beautiful as you were mesmerized by his back.

neteyam accidentally let out a loud purr as you grazed against skin, making both of you blush.

“feel nice?” you teased, finally removing your hands from his skin (much to neteyam’s dismay).

the sunrise was dotting on your teal skin, illuminating your features as you stared up at neteyam.

in the beginning of his stay, he had yet to realize why you were so important, why everyone was obsessed with you.

but when he sat and talked with you, he soon found himself realizing just exactly why everyone adored you.

you were thoughtful, intelligent, cared for your people, funny, witty, and many other things he could not put into words.

and he began to think to himself if he could imagine being with anyone else, despite just having met you.

but when eywa calls, neteyam answers. and right now, he can hear a ringing in his ears.

#simpforboys #neteyam sully x reader #neteyam x you #neteyam sully #neteyam x reader #neteyam #neteyam x y/n #neteyam fluff #neteyam smut #neteyam sully smut #neteyam angst #neteyam sully x na’vi!reader #neteyam sully x you #neteyam sully x y/n #neteyam sully x metkayina!reader #neteyam sully fluff #avatar 2 #avatar #avatar neteyam #atwow

[yeostars]

𓆩♡𓆪 ateez kissing your hand out of their affection for you <3

{maknae line ver.!}

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

ᯓ★ san

• "sannie, make sure to tell them to add extra sugar in my coffee. You know I like sweet stuff, right?" You tap your boyfriend on the shoulder, who's standing in the queue at your nearby café store. You both decided to go try out the deserts and coffee at the newly opened café because the whole town was talking about it, and san knew how much you loved sugary foods so he accompanied you here.

• "You're already full of sweetness, my love, how much more sweetness do you need, y/nnie~" San said this, almost shouting and that too in front of all those people in the queue. Your cheeks immediately turned red because of san's words and the fact that quite a few people were starting at you right now.

• "Common. D-dont say such stuff in front of everyone. I'll be waiting for you at the tabl-" before you even got to complete your sentence, san grabbed you by your wrist, almost twirled you around and placed a sweet kiss on the back of your palm. You were even more flustered than before now. "Mmm. Definitely much sweeter than the deserts we'll have later, I can guarantee you that." San said, grinning. You playfully slapped him on the arm and returned to your seat, thinking what the hell just happened and why your boyfriend was such a cheeseball- but let's be honest, you loved it.

ᯓ★ Mingi

• Since it was the weekend, you decided to go shopping with your boyfriend at a nearby mall. You both wanted to buy a few new clothes and other stuff since a long time and now you finally got the opportunity to do so, together.

• You both entered a store which had absolutely stunning collections in both male and female options. While Mingi was strolling through the males section, you were are the females section and a beautiful dress caught your eye. However, the form of that dress seemed unsettling to you. You were contemplating long and hard weather you should buy that dress or not, and amidst that, mingi appeared besides you, asking you weather you had selected something to buy.

• "Nothing much yet, but hey, what do you think about that dress?" You asked him, pointing at it at the above rack. Before mingi could even respond, you added "I- I'm not sure it would fit me well. It looks so beautiful but I surely won't pull it off that well." You said. Mingi noticed your cute pout while looking at that dress and slowly took hold your hand near to him, and placed a soft kiss at the back of your palm. "You'd look amazing in that, y/n, I'm so sure of it. How about you go try it in the changing room, atleast? Although I'm sure you don't need to do that because according to my vision, you'll look GORGEOUS in it." Mingi said, and you flashed him a grateful smile, your heart melting because of his words. "you're too sweet. You flatter me all the time."

ᯓ★ Wooyoung

• You and your boyfriend were enjoying a day off at home, doing your own stuff: you were reading a book and wooyoung was gaming in the living room. You came up to wooyoung after you finished reading your book, sitting next to him on the couch, watching him game. "Hey, I wanna try gaming too. Mind if I play against you?" You said, watching how interesting the game he was playing looked like.

• Wooyoung let out a witch-like laugh. "Gaming? And you? Y/n, babe, please- last time you asked me to let you try out gaming, you were so frustrated you almost broken my gaming equipment. Not to mention what an absolute noob you are at playing. I-" You flashed him a pout and crossed your arms at him, not in a cute way but it was your habit when he teased you about something.

• "Fine, i just wanted to spend some time with you, and all you do is tease me. Guess I'll just go hang out with my friends for the rest of the day, then." You said, picking up your phone to text your friends, but wooyoung kept his gaming console aside, and took hold of your hands, gently kissing your knuckles. "Hey, I'm sorry. You know that I love to tease you because of how cute you are, right? How about we cook something delicious later together, cooking is something we're both very good at." He said, and you flashed him a smile, searching up on what you and wooyoung could cook together later.

• Jongho

• Jongho mentioned to you, on the phone that he'd come home a little late than usual because of their extended rehearsal. You asked him if he had dinner yet and he replied that he didn't have it, yet. You told him to not eat outside because you were preparing a special dinner for the both of you tonight, and Jongho said that he'll come home as soon as he can.

• An hour and a half later, the doorbell rang, and you opened the door, revealing your boyfriend in quite an exhausted state. You asked him to sit directly at the dinner table to eat. "Damn, i smell something delicious. Y/n, you won't believe how much I contemplated not eating whatever the boys had ordered from outside- I told them I'm leaving space in my stomach because you cooked something special for me. It better be good- I'm sure it is, actually." He said, and you giggled, setting up his food for him on his plate. He tasted one of his favourite dishes and a sigh of satisfaction left his mouth. "Mm, that's so delicious. As expected, your food never ever disappoints, Y/N." He said, and you smiled, watching him eat heartily.

• "I'm glad you liked it so much. A part of why I love cooking for you is because of your reaction and how well you eat whatever I make for you." You said, after the both of you finished eating and Jongho helped you take the dishes to the sink. "And a part of why I love you- is because you make such delicious dishes for me. Thank you, Y/N." He said, taking hold of your hand & kissing the back of your palm, gently. You blushed, whispering "you're always welcome", thinking about him kissing your hand the entire night - your smile never fading while reminiscing that moment.

#ateez #ateez imagines #ateez reactions #ateez x reader #ateez fanfic #ateez ff #ateez fic #ateez fluff #ateez recs #ateez x y/n #mingi #san #wooyoung #jongho #mingi x reader #san x reader #wooyoung x reader #jongho x reader #ateez kpop #kpop imagines #kpop fic #atz x reader

[simplyundeniable98]

Oel ngati kameie n.s

Synopsis ~ Neteyam Sully and his family were no strangers. Ever since your parents were killed in the first war with the sky people Jake Sully made it his mission to make sure to take care of you. When its finally time to become one of the people you realize you might have feelings for the older Sully boy.

Warnings ~ best friends to lovers, these two are literally clueless, Lo'ak and Kiri are wingmen, use of y/n, Neteyam is 19 and reader is 18, kissing, making out, talking of mating, pining, p n v intercourse minors DNI.

Disclaimer: Sentences written in Italics are spoken in Na'vi, I thought it would be easier to write it that way instead of actually writing it in Na'vi and then translating.

Word Count: 2.7K

Every Na'vi is born twice. The second time is when you earn your place among the people forever.

It's a sacred task, a hard one at that. First, you must choose your Ikran. It's a test every young hunter must pass, up high in the Hallelujah mountains lies Oo-rah.

"Be calm yawne" Neteyam spoke softly as he stepped behind you. In front of you lie hundreds of Ikrans. He rested his long nimble fingers on your lower back in an attempt to comfort you, remembering how nerve-racking it feels having done it not long ago.

You took in a deep breath clutching the rope-like vine you held in your palms as Jake and Neytiri followed not far behind Neteyam, just as eager to see you complete the task.

"Remember what we talked about y/n, this you must feel inside" He brings his hand up to rest right above your left breast. He could feel the erratic beating of your heart as you nodded. Neytiri spoke up from behind Neteyam, "When they choose you, you have to move quick like we showed, you will only have one chance y/n" You took in another deep breath in hopes to calm yourself as you felt Neteyam softly push you forward.

Taking another step forwards you watched as Ikran after Ikran ignored your advancing and flew away. You jumped down onto one of the lower rocks and hissed trying to get any of them to bite back.

One by one they all flew away leaving one single Ikran left. It was gorgeous. A beautiful deep purple with red stripes wrapped around its body in intricate patterns.

It stepped forward and hissed back, startling you a bit as it reached forward in an attempt to snatch you. You swung your rope and crouched hoping to get a better angle to mount the creature and tie its mouth.

Hissing once more you pounced, finally making your way around to jump on the creature's back. You make an attempt to wrap the vine around its mouth as it thrashes and jumps.

Suddenly the creature violently flings you to the side as you scramble to grab onto whatever you could reach to pull yourself back up.

Neteyam gasped stepping out to go help you before Jake pulled him back by the arm. "I cannot leave her father, let me go." He hissed as Jake shook his head at his son. "You cannot help her son, this is something she must do on her own."

You quickly pulled yourself back up onto the mountain, running to mount the Ikran again as you wrapped the vine around its snout successfully.

"Shahaylu, y/n. Make the bond!" Neteyam yelled as you reached behind for your queue. "I'm trying you skxawng!" you hissed as you finally managed to connect your queue and make the bond.

Suddenly it went quiet. The Ikran shivered as its pupils dilated. You took in a breath finally calming your breathing. "Maway, mawey" You whispered to the animal softly stroking the side of its neck. You could feel its heartbeat, its breath. It was nothing like you've ever felt before. Your souls were intertwined, connected.

"Go y/n! The first flight seals the bond!" Jake yelled as you nodded. Fly you thought as the Ikran finally flapped its wings and took flight.

It was a little shaky as it descended down the cliff but you finally got the hang of it as both you and the Ikran finally synced. God, there was nothing like it. You were born to do this. Born to fly. The wind whipped through your braids as you weaved in and out of the floating mountains.

From far away you could hear all three Sullys holler and yelp, all mounting their Ikrans to come and join you on your first flight. You watched as Neteyam banked right up next to your Ikran as he playfully nudged yours.

Neytiri and Jake watched from behind as the interaction reminded the two of them when they were younger.

As you pulled your queue away from your Ikran as it touched down close to home you sent your Ikran off. Neteyam next to you did the same as both of you finally got a chance to talk about the days events.

"I thought I lost you for a second there" He laughed as he brought his hand up to mess your hair up much like he did to his own siblings more often than not.

"I was fine Teyam', nothing I could not endure" you smiled up at him. "Have you thought of a name for your Ikran yet yawntutsyìp?" he asked as the two of you neared the secret cave you had shared since the two of you were just children.

It was a beautiful opening with different varieties of flowers and plants. Sat in the middle was a lake of sorts that had a secret little cave covered by a waterfall.

"Zíerèya" you finally answered after a beat of silence.

Neteyam smiled softly, your mother's name. Beautiful, just like its owner. "It's beautiful y/n" He reached for your hand intertwining your much smaller hands with his larger ones.

"Soon you will be expected to find a mate" He spoke with such a hushed tone you'd almost think he was upset. Your face contorted with confusion. What was this talk about a mate? In your mind, there was only one Na'vi you could imagine being your mate, and he was sitting right in front of you. Why couldn't he see that he was the only one you longed for?

"Nete, I do not understand? Why do you talk of this?" you questioned bringing your hand up to cup the boy's cheek looking up to see his face. His eyes were bright under the bioluminescent glow that cast across the forest as the eclipse neared. He nuzzled his cheek into your palm bringing his lips to your hand with a chaste kiss.

"Y/n there is something I must-" Neteyam was interrupted as the two of you heard a branch near the shore break under the weight of whatever was nearby. Neteyam brought his finger to his lips signaling for you to be quiet as he peeked around the opening of the cave.

"Neteyam! Mom wants you and y/n to head back for dinner" Lo'ak stood at the shore with his hands cupped around his mouth as he shouted towards his brother. The younger brother held a knowing smirk as the two of you made your way to him.

You walked ahead to hide the creeping blush that was adorning your face as Lo'ak playfully shoved Neteyam. "So big bro, did you get any?" Lo'ak asked with a smug smirk. Neteyam looked over at the boy " Shut up skxawng!" He threw a swift punch to his brother's arm earning a whine from Lo'ak as he rubbed the now sore spot.

"Are you nervous about your ceremony tomorrow ma y/n?" Neytiri asked as she set down the leaf topped with food in front of you. You shook your head "Not necessarily, I am nervous about the number of people who are going to attend. The whole tribe will be there!" You chuckled softly looking back down at your food.

"Have you given any thought to who you might choose to be your mate?" Kiri asked shooting Lo'ak a smug look who snickered behind his hand. You looked down as your face turned a light purple from the blush creeping up your cheeks. Neytiri and Jake shot each other a knowing look as Neteyam looked down at his lap.

"Let me see the coverings you made to wear to your ceremony tomorrow yawntutsyìp," Neytiri said breaking the awkward silence that had fallen over the hut as she stood up to follow you to your home not far from the Sullys.

You huffed as you smoothed down the intricately beaded outfit you had spent hours before today weaving and putting together. Although it was tedious and took a long time, it truly was a gorgeous piece. It accentuated your breasts perfectly and wrapped around your lower breastbone all the way to the front of your stomach where it connected to your equally as detailed loin cloth.

You brought your hands up to your hair as you attempted to re-braid the strands into a more elegant style rather than your usual braided locs.

"Need help?" The familiar voice startled you as you turned around to face the door. Neteyams breath caught in his throat at the sight of you. You looked unbelievable. It was like Ewya herself carved you to perfection. Just for him.

"You look incredible y/n," he said as he joined her in her hut. She smiled at him with a pout, "Thank you, Nete but I cannot seem to get my hair braided as it should." He nodded, understanding your frustration.

"Let me help" He reached up to weave the strands together in the spot you could not reach with your own hands.

When he was finished his hand traveled from your shoulder down to your hand to tug you to face him. "After your ceremony today, id like to take you somewhere" he spoke softly looking into your eyes. You smiled "Of course, can you help me with my paint?" He nodded motioning for you to sit in front of him as he dipped his fingers into the white paste you had set aside.

The two of you spoke nothing as he painted your face with the traditional style stripes. His fingers lingered as he brought them down to your lips as he let his gaze travel down your face until he was fully staring at your plump lips he so longed to kiss.

"Y/n my mother is ready for you to come-" Lo'ak stopped as he stood at the entry to your hut realizing he must have interrupted a moment between the two of you. He snickered as the two of you jumped to put more space between you as you both stood up. You excused yourself from the hut to go find Neytiri.

"Bro. You have got to make a move on her before someone else does." The younger brother spoke as Neteyam sighed. "I'm going to baby bro, it just wasn't the right time."

Your stomach bubbled in excitement as you stepped out to join the people making your way toward the Olo'eyktan. Jake stood in the center of the room dressed in his ceremonial headdress. He bit back a smile as you made your way toward him. He couldn't believe how fast you'd grown up. It seemed like just yesterday you were just a little girl bouncing around with his children in the stream.

You bowed your head as you stood in front of him. The tribe coming closer to join you as Neteyam took place by your side, Neytiri, Lo'ak, Kiri, and Tuk following close behind.

"You are now a daughter of the Omaticaya. You are part of the people." Jake finished as he rested both of his hands on your shoulders. Neteyam and the rest of his family followed his actions and soon you and the whole tribe were connected. It was done. The second part of your journey was now complete.

You tugged on Neteyams tail as you trailed behind him following to whatever destination he had planned. He chuckled as you gasped stopping to take a look at your surroundings.

"Come" he spoke grabbing your hand and leading you closer. You drug your hand through the glowing branches. "Utraya Mokri" you sighed grabbing onto some of the branches connecting your queue.

"It's beautiful Nete" He smiled and stepped beside you to grab a few branches himself. "My mother brought my father here the day he completed his ceremony" You beamed at him, thankful that he thought to bring you here.

A small gasp left your lips as a woodsprite floated between the two of you. Bringing your hand softly underneath it, you left it to float there until it made its way up higher into the tree.

"A sign from Eywa" Neteyam spoke so quietly you wouldn't have heard it if you had not been so close. You looked up at him sensing the nervous energy that was radiating off of the boy.

"What is it ma Neteyam, what troubles you?" He finally looked up at you cupping your cheek. "Y/n, I see you. I always have. All this talk about choosing a mate and I can't help but be selfish because I feel as though it should be me." His voice was unwavering and genuine as you processed what he just said. Neteyam felt the same way? After all this time?

"Neteyam, it has always been you. Anytime anyone mentioned a mate the only one that clouded my mind was you. I could not even think of anyone else." You could see the worry flood from the boy's face as he blushed.

"Can I kiss you yawntutsyìp?" you nodded as he leaned forward to connect his lips to yours. The kiss was slow and tentative, the both of you testing the waters. Soon the kiss turned more heated as Neteyam swiped his tongue over your bottom lip using your gasp as leverage as he slipped his tongue into your mouth.

You let out a moan deepening the kiss as Neteyam brought you to straddle his thighs.

"Please Teyam" you begged. You weren't even sure what you were begging for. "Shh shh, I've got you my love" He whispered laying you down onto the soft forest floor.

He broke the kiss only to bring them down to your chest as he kissed the valley between your breasts. You gasped entangling your hand into his braids keeping him as close as possible.

"So beautiful" he murmured toying with the beads on your top. "I choose you Neteyam, please" He stopped for a moment looking up at you from your chest. "Are you sure y/n, we will be mated for life?" he looked unsure as he stared into your eyes.

You smiled bringing your hand to rest on his cheek. "Yes, I'm sure" He nodded reaching around for his queue as you reached for yours.

He brought his up to yours as the two of you watched them connect.

You both gasped as you felt the connection travel through you from the top of your head to the tips of your toes. With the new connection, you could practically feel the love Neteyam had for you, it only multiplying with your own love for him.

Neteyam kissed your lips once more as he reached down to untie both his and your loincloth. He groaned as he pushed the tip in causing you to suck in a breath.

"My Ewya, you are so tight" Neteyam spoke through ragged breaths as he thrust once more finally seated fully inside your warm heat. The intrusion was new and strange but so so good.

"Move Nete, please" How could he deny you when you asked so nicely? He thrusts his hips faster rutting into you at a steady pace causing you to moan loudly. "you feel so good baby" you whined, the new pet name causing Neteyam to nuzzle his head into your neck as his thrusts faltered feeling himself get closer to his release.

There was an unfamiliar feeling building low in your stomach as he continued to hit a deep spongy spot within you. "Nete wait- I think- there's a feeling-" You could barely get a full sentence out as your vision started to blur.

"Its okay, my love. Let go, let me feel you" You let Neteyams words calm you as you let the feeling take over. It washed over you like fireworks, bursting throughout your body as you clenched down on him letting out a loud mewl.

Neteyam groaned as he felt himself get closer as you clenched down on him, the connection of your queues helping him feel everything tenfold. He brought his lips to yours in a messy kiss as he painted your walls with his release.

You gasped as he pulled out of you, moving to rest next to you as you both fought to catch your breath.

"Oel ngati kameie y/n" Neteyam spoke turning over to look at you.

"Oel ngati kameie my love"

Yawne: beloved

Shahaylu: the bond between a Na'vi and the creature

Skxawng: moron/idiot

Yawntutsyìp: darling

Oel ngati kameie: i see you

Utraya Mokri: The Tree of Voices (Where Neytiri and Jake mated in the first movie)

Zíerèya- pronounced Zie-Ray-a

#neteyam x reader #neteyam sully #neteyam x omaticaya!reader #neteyam x y/n #the way of water #avatar #lo'ak x y/n #jake sully #jake sully x reader #avatar smut #neteyam smut

[brownbearwrites]

stay here by my side (pt. 2)

read part one here!

pairing: atwow!neteyam x omatikaya!reader neteyam and the reader carry out their plan to mate, and find themselves re-experiencing their almost-forgotten memories word count: 1.8k notes: I was so blown away with the response I received to the first part of this series, that I wrote this second part faster than I've ever written anything before, haha! I've been thinking about continuing this story even beyond this part, and maybe even making it span for the entirety of atwow. would you guys be interested in that? please let me know, and I truly hope you'll enjoy this part!

The fallen leaves crunch under your feet as you and Neteyam make your way through the forest, the stars above you illuminating your path to the Tree of Voices. His hand is warm and solid against yours, the gentle squeeze of his fingers a silent sign of reassurance. The two of you had decided that there was no time to wait. You were to bond before Eywa tonight. This way, there would be no possibility of Neteyam’s family getting wind of the plan—after all, the thing you wanted least of all was for them to find out, and prevent you from joining them on their voyage.

In front of you, Neteyam brushes aside a low-hanging tree branch, finally revealing the awe-inspiring Tree of Voices to your eyes. You feel your breath momentarily catch in your chest as you take in the view, your feet slowing to come to a stop. No matter how many times you visit this place, it never becomes less impressive to you. Neteyam turns his head to face you, a sudden flash of worry gracing his features. 

“Are you still sure about this?” he asks you.

You look up at him, a warm smile on your face. Leave it to Neteyam to worry about you even in moments like these, when you’re more confident in your actions than you’ve ever been before.

“I am,” you answer him truthfully, “there is nothing in this world that I want more than to be your mate. If we are right, and Eywa grants us our wish, I will be the luckiest girl in all of Pandora. Of course, I’m a little scared of what is to come. But I know that, whatever may happen, we’ll be able to overcome it together. As we always have done”.

The corners of Neteyam’s mouth quirk up at these words. You have to push down the urge to cry when you see the look of utter love and adoration which has formed on his face. By Eywa, you think, he becomes more gorgeous every day.

The two of you gingerly make your way closer to the Tree of Voices, its bioluminescent light bouncing off of your skin as you tread the thick roots which lead to the center of the tree. The plants beneath your feet light up in a gentle green glow. You find yourself giggling as you hop from place to place, your feet filling the spots that Neteyam’s had just lifted from. At the sound of your antics, he turns around. Laughing, he takes a handful of large steps backward, increasing the distance between his footsteps to the point where you are forced to jump to close the distance. For a while you are successful, but your legs tire quickly, and you eventually stumble. Neteyam’s warm hand encircles your upper arm, preventing you from falling.

“Careful, my love”, he softly warns you.

Before long, you find yourselves in the midst of the neural queues of the tree. Neteyam trails his hand through a cluster of them, the lilac glowing tendrils swaying from the movement. You watch as he seats himself on the plant-cushioned earth—his large green eyes looking up at you, silently asking you to join him. You sit in front of him, your knees brushing together. For a moment, the two of you just sit in silence as you take in the view surrounding you. You take a deep breath, relishing in the serenity of the moment.

Neteyam rests his hand on your thigh, and you once more return your focus to him. You watch as his other hand reaches to the back of his head, pulling his tsahaylu to rest over his shoulder. You bite your lip to suppress a smile as you follow in his example, holding the very end of your braid between your fingers, feeling the neural tendrils within move with the desire to create a bond.

“We can still turn back now,” Neteyam says, though you can clearly hear in his voice how much he does not wish to do so, “We won’t have to live with the knowledge that Eywa has rejected our bond, if she decides to do so. We will save ourselves from this despair”.

“If we do that,” you answer him, “I might live the rest of my life without experiencing Eywa’s disapproval, that much is true. But I will also have to live without you. And there is no despair greater than that”.

At your words, Neteyam leans in, resting his forehead against yours. You can hear yourself beginning to purr, causing Neteyam to let out a breathy chuckle. His hand reaches up to cup your cheek, softly kissing your lips. You lean into the kiss, chasing Neteyam’s lips for another peck when he eventually pulls away. You’re both grinning by the end of it, your faces matching in their blushed-purple hue.

“Ready?” you ask, gesturing at your queue.

Neteyam gives you a determined nod, reaching for the end of his braid before bringing it up toward yours. You watch as the tendrils of your respective queues reach out toward each other, tangling together until they finally become one. The feeling is indescribable. It is as if every single neuron in your body simultaneously comes alive for the very first time. An intense warmth fills you from within, relaxing your muscles as if you had been dunked into a hot spring. Your vision blurs and you feel yourself instinctually reaching out to clasp onto Neteyam—your arms wrapping around his shoulders as you bury your head to rest in the crook of his neck, gasping at the unfamiliar feeling. Neteyam’s arms snake their way around your middle, his fingers digging into the flesh of your lower back.

For a second, it is as if you had lost all of your senses—silent darkness enveloping your entire being. Your initial instinct is to panic, to fight against this all consuming nothingness which you now find yourself wrapped up in. You feel your legs twitching, the urge to yell out to the world growing in your throat. 

But then, breaking through it all, you feel a small hand grabbing hold of your own, it’s grip strong and resolute. You feel yourself blink, your unprepared eyes squinting against bright sunlight when you open them again. Suddenly, you’re no longer seated underneath the Tree of Voices anymore, with Neteyam’s arms wrapped around you. Instead, you’re on the bank of a river, a seven-year-old Neteyam tugging you into the water with him. You let out a shriek of laughter, the cool water splashing around your legs.

“Catch me if you can!” Neteyam yells out before darting away from you.

You shake your head in disbelief, but chase after him anyway. Laughter rumbles in your chest, the warm afternoon sun shining on your face. Beneath your feet, you feel sand and small rocks kicking up as you thread the water.

Suddenly, the river is gone. The grassy ground beneath your feet is softer, yet more solid. Neteyam is no longer running ahead of you. Instead, he’s keeping pace with you, his fingers occasionally brushing against yours. He looks to be a few years older, maybe thirteen, at most. The surrounding forest is strewn with flowers; spring appears to be in full bloom. Your feet come to a stop as you crouch down, the beads of your top now pressed up against your knees. Your hands reach out to a small yellow flower, carefully plucking it from the forest floor. You rise back up to your full height, turning to find Neteyam watching you closely. You walk up to him, your free hand coming up to brush the braids near his temple to the side.

“Stay still,” you hear yourself tell him.

You tuck the delicate flower behind his ear, adjusting the braids around it until you’re satisfied with your handiwork. The backs of your fingers graze against the angle of his jaw.

“You look pretty,” you announce to him.

Neteyam’s responding laughter suddenly comes from much closer than you had originally expected it—your head now cushioned on his chest. Your eyes glance about, taking in the domestic interior of the Sully family’s hut. It’s dark, but in the very corner of your vision you can take in the silhouette of a Lo’ak-Kiri-and-Tuk shaped dogpile. A freezing cold breeze washes over your skin, explaining the cause of your shivering form. The memory of this night is much clearer in your memory, resulting in a startling level of familiarity.

“You always do this, my love” you hear Neteyam’s deepened voice exclaim, “the temperature drops just the tiniest bit, and you immediately come over to huddle against me for warmth”.

“I can’t help it that my circulation sucks,” you answer him, pressing your cold toes against the warmth of his shins. “Plus, I enjoy cuddling with you”, you shyly add.

At your words, Neteyam pulls you closer against him, his hands splaying out to cover the exposed skin of your back. The sheer warmth he exudes quickly working to lull you back to sleep. You let out a satisfied sigh, allowing your eyes to fall shut. Below you, you hear the familiar sound of Neteyam’s purring.

“I like cuddling with you, too” Neteyam confesses, causing you to fall back asleep with a soft smile on your face.

When your eyes blink open, you’re almost shocked by the sheer difficulty of such a simple task—it takes a minute before you adjust, the leaden weight of your eyelids slowly dissipating. Before you, Neteyam appears to be experiencing the very same thing, his eyes glassy before they finally seem to zero in on you. The awareness of what had just happened dawns on you very suddenly. You allow yourself to laugh, an immense feeling of relief now washing over you. Eywa had shown you happy memories, beautiful moments which you had shared with Neteyam over the many years you had known him. This could only mean one thing; Eywa approved of your bond.

The next few hours went by in a blur. You remember the sheer glee which flowed through the newly created bond between you and Neteyam—a feeling which, even with its novelty, you welcomed with open arms. You’re aware of the fact that the two of you had shared a passionate kiss, both of you relishing in each other's presence. At some point, the second part of the bonding ritual had begun, causing both you and Neteyam to once more fall into a deep dreamlike state. This time, however, you did not dream of days gone by. Instead, Eywa granted you a peek into what your future might hold; a dizzying show of scenes which you could not yet assemble into a coherent narrative. The only discernible constant through it all is the unyielding presence of your Neteyam by your side—a reality which you accept wholeheartedly, with a grateful smile on your face.

#neteyam x reader #neteyam imagine #neteyam avatar #neteyam sully #neteyam atwow #neteyam angst #neteyam fanfiction #neteyam fluff #neteyam fic #neteyam headcanons #avatar the way of water #avatar way of water #avatar imagine #avatar x reader

[avocado-writing]

Possessive/Jealous!Tangerine x f!Reader (NSFT)

Alright so this one turned into smut. 18+, NSFT, MINORS DNI.

Tagging: @felhomaly​​​ @sinfulrefugy​​ @venusthepirate @lunarpansexual @wanderedaway​ ​​

Reblogs appreciated, Requests Closed while I catch up - let me know if you want to be tagged for future works! (Thank you pinksminaj for the gif!)

The coffee shop is pretty busy. But you’re used to waiting in a queue, even though Tangerine grumbles about it, because you really need your latte this morning. The day promises to be a long one and facing it without caffeine is daunting.

The mark is, actually, not far away. But there’s going to be a lot of running involved once a gun’s been emptied into him and you’d rather not do it tired.

Tangerine sniffs, and somehow he manages to do so grumpily.

“We’re in England,” you say, before he can even voice his complaint, “there’s going to be a line, T.”

As if on cue, the barista calls out the name you gave for your order - fake of course - reading from a paper cup. He gives you a cheeky grin as he hands it over.

“Here you go, gorgeous.”

You roll your eyes at him.

“Get out of it,” you say, taking your drink and striding away. Tangerine falls in step behind you. You can feel him beginning to seethe from the interaction.

Tangerine tends to be… jealous. He doesn’t like when men flirt with you. To be fair, you don’t like it either, but it ignites a very particular fury in your other half.

You really can’t be arsed with one of his moods, though, so you concentrate on drinking your coffee.

Something on the cup catches your eye. You let out an incredulous laugh.

The bloody barista wrote his number on the side along with your name. 

You realise, too late, that you shouldn’t have reacted. You should have downed the coffee and dumped the cup. Because it draws Tangerine’s attention, and when he clocks it, his jaw gets visibly tight.

Immediately, he takes a hard left down an alley.

You groan and leg it after him.

“Tangerine! T!” you call. He’s got such long legs, far longer than anyone’s have the right to be, so it’s an effort to catch up. 

“What the hell are you -”

But you don’t get a chance to finish the question. Because, the second you’re close enough, he spins around and takes a hold of your shoulders, pushing you up against the wall.

“T!” you gasp as the latte spills from your hand. Tangerine kicks it away. In one swift movement his body is pressed against yours, his lips up against your ear. When he speaks you can feel his breath on your face.

“I don’t like it when other men look at you.”

Alright, admittedly, your body is heating up, but you still find yourself rolling your eyes for the second time in about five minutes.

“Other men are going to look at me, T. They make up about half the population.” 

He takes both of your hands in one his, pinning them above you. You’re stretched out before him, breath catching in your throat.

“You know that’s not what I mean,” he states. His mouth lands on your neck, where he begins to bite at the soft skin he feels there. If he’s not careful his teeth will leave a mark.

“T,” you say, as much of a warning as you can muster while also trying to pretend this isn’t working for you, “we’re in public.”

You manage to cast your eyes to the street where the alleyway opens up. Admittedly, you’re quite a bit away, but that doesn’t mean you’re safe.

“I don’t care,” Tangerine says simply. His words are muffled against the warm skin of your neck. Suddenly he pulls away. You almost moan at the loss of his touch, but when you realise it’s only so he can fall to his knees in front of you, you take a sharp breath.

“Tangerine!”

He manhandles one of your legs to sling over his shoulder. You’re wearing a skirt, so it’s not like he has layers to contend with. He gives a shuddering exhale which you feel against your cunt through your quickly-soaking panties.

“Fuck, look at you. You’re already wet and I’ve barely touched you.”

He presses his tongue into your core and you arch against the wall while digging your heel into his back. Warm and broad, it traces your entrance. You can feel every movement of it despite the fabric of your underwear in the way.

“Christ,” you moan, quietly. You screw your eyes shut and lean your head back on the brick behind you. Above you clouds move across a grey sky, but you don’t get to admire them for long - your eyes screw shut as Tangerine moves your underwear aside and he places his mouth on you properly. 

His moustache grinds deliciously against your clit as he fucks you with his tongue. He dips it inside you, tasting you from the source. A groan is torn from his throat.

“You taste fucking delicious,” he growls into you, reaching up with a hand to slide two fingers inside you, right up to his final knuckles. You feel his rings press against the sensitive skin of your centre, hot from being worn all day, but enough of a contrast to what you had been feeling that you keel into his touch.

“Who else can eat you like this? Hm? Fuck you with their tongue like I can?”

You don’t want to applaud this possessive behaviour with obvious pleasure, but fuck if he isn’t good at eating you out. He crooks his fingers inside you, hitting that sweet spot, and you let out a ragged little moan as he presses even harder against your clit. When you look down, the sight of his mouth clamped over you is almost enough to make you come there and then.

The breath has been thoroughly knocked out of you. He leaves you standing on shaky, fawn-weak legs as he gets to his feet, whipping his belt undone and pulling out his cock. He’s hard and practically dripping down his hand as he rubs his head against your soaking cunt. 

Your head tips forward as you lean into his shoulder. He pushes inside you in one quick thrust. The feeling of being full of him is one you’ll never not love, and the moan of ecstasy he pulls from you only cements that fact for him.

With hard, deep movements he begins to fuck you against the alley wall. You reward him with the sounds of desperate panting in his ear as you clench your hands into his suit jacket, hanging on for dear life as he jackhammers into you. Each delicious slide of his cock is almost overwhelming against your already stimulated pussy. 

“You’re mine, do you hear me?” he snarls into your ear, “Mine.”

You neither confirm nor deny, instead beginning to cry out as your walls clench tight around him while your orgasm erupts from your core - but just in time he slams his hand over your mouth to muffle you. The feeling of you releasing must push him over the edge too, because you feel him release hot spurts of come inside your sensitive cunt.

It takes a solid minute for you to catch your breath. Tangerine gently lowers you to the ground. You didn’t even realise you’d wrapped your legs around him, and they cramp terribly as you stretch them out. After a moment, you reach up a hand and slap him across the face. Not hard, but it still makes him jump.

“Oi! What was that for?” 

“Let’s get something straight: I don’t belong to anyone,” you say, pointing a finger in his face. But your features soften as you drag him in for a kiss. His tongue moves lazily against yours and you taste yourself on him. “That being said, you’re right. Nobody can fuck me like you can.”

It’s enough to get a smile out of him, a full grin showing his teeth. 

“You’re buying me another latte.”

“Fair enough.”

#tangerine nsft #bullet train nsft #bullet train tangerine #tangerine x reader #tangerine x you #tangerine x y/n #tangerine x reader smut #smutty writing #requests

[izpira-se-zlato]

JO Utrecht, 20.03.24

i am woefully behind on my dash but I come bearing a gig report?

I met a lot of people I'd last seen in Groningen 💛

we had dutch fries and I got a vegan kroket (it was very tasty)

also met @autoantonyms!! Got beautiful stickers 😊💛

the queue was inside and there were toilets next to it

Our queueing experience was pretty chill since we ( @zadig-fate , @mogoce-nocoj, and @sloveniansexual) wanted balcony so it wasn't quite so bad

we feared we might get kicked out of the balcony spot but didn't (apparently it was the designated disabled spot but not actually marked as such)

really good view of the entire stage, I'll yeet my videos onto YouTube at the end of the month (once I have wifi again)

the ground was sloped, I think, so there were no "bad" spots

Kris in a super neat outfit and with his cowboy boots that give him the cuntiest of walks

Nace felt like the most "underdressed" in his lace-dangle pants, a simple white shirt and a cozy sweater on top, as well as normal sneakers and glasses

he lost the glasses during Tokio (intentionally this time – threw them at Kiki) and the sweater a little later

Bojan with the heart cutout shirt that allegedly had a kiss mark on the center of the cutout? We were too far away to make that out

Jure. Just. Jfc. we had such a good vantage point to see him, and what a sight he was. Eyeliner and chain harness and hnnng. I spent. Most of the gig just looking at him bc jfc he was gorgeous

Jan in the sparklative pants? I think? And the deep cleavage shirt. Also Janbun my beloved

super tame gig all things considered but I barely noticed bc Jure

Bojan sounds so sick. So fucking sick. Full of snot 😅

during Gola, Jan pushed Nace and chased him a bit

they were so very mobile!

Bojan and Kris did not interact at all during the gig until Bojan made Kris speak Dutch to the crowd (and strokes his arm to get his attention. For a moment I was sure Kris would still ignore him)

apparently Kris's mom was in the audience but we didn't see her so this is hearsay

Jan kept skipping around the stage, and so did Bojan. Bojan also did the Käärijä knees-up run

Nace also sprinted across the stage once 😂

aduring Demoni, Jan jumped up on the drums pedestal and played the snare drum (?)

he also played the piano during metulji and Umazane 😂 a true multi-instrumentalist

also during Demoni, Nace almost walked into Jan and Jan "threatened" him with his guitar (they're adorable)

Jan was actually drinking water during the gig

Vita came up to the balcony to shoot from there and was very distracting. Not in a bad way though 😂

another photographer came up to us and was kinda grateful when I made space so he could shoot

Umazane including intro speech was 12:55 long. Jfc Bojan.

Bojan was talking and then the rest just started Umazane. Felt a bit like they were like, it'll be long enough, pls just start

Bojan went into the crowd. Lots of non-slovene versions. Vita followed after him, which made for a funny picture from above bc there was a white spot with safety distance around him, followed by a pink light (from Vita's camera)

Nace joined part of the front row in doing the Macarena dance for a moment

Jan instigated the crab walk across the stage, and when they came back to Primož, Primož grabbed Nace's fretboard (? The thing with the pegs) before Jan came around and got to press a few buttons on the sound mixing desk

Bojan was helped back on stage but they forgot Vita in the crowd. She was still solidly in the crowd when Kiki fucked back off. I think @braveheart1418 yelled for people to make space and so she was able to slip back out, but yeah. Poor Vita

Kris interacted so much with Jan and Nace though it was pretty tame

a very professional gig all things considered

during ne bi smel (?) Jan's guitar cut out at the beginning but it didn't cause major issues, it just made the very beginning sound a little off

Bojan made Kris speak Dutch at the end. No idea what he said

during Novi val, Jure jumped onto Nace and Jan

Bojan gave Nace and Jan tulip bunches and it really felt like they were suddenly acutely aware how "just married" they looked. Queue awkward standing next to each other until Jure jumped into them

while Kris was speaking, Nace had Bojan pulled into his side, so Jan jumped into them and jfc what a picture – Bojan and Nace both dark pants/white shirt, and Jan in all black… Gorgeous

the crowd chanted "oooo" (U, for Utrecht) and Bojan thought they were booing and he was laughing off that fear afterwards, saying it's the worst nightmare for an artist

#joker out #jure macek #jure maček #jan peteh #nace jordan #kris gustin #kris guštin #bojan cvjeticanin #bojan cvjetićanin #nace ja jan #bojan ja Jan #bojan ja kris #gig report #jo utrecht #sys tour

[cometlevi]

Levi Week - Day 1: Teashop ☕️

Tags: @leviweek2023

After the war, Levi didn’t really have a clear plan on what he wanted to do. To him, the mere idea of not having to be on guard 24/7 was absurd. It’s safe to say it took him quite some time to get used to his new life, a life of peace. Around a year and a half after the war, Levi decided to pursue one of his life long dreams. Opening a tea shop. Levi is a picky man so finding a property he liked proved to be a challenge. He would spend hours viewing potential properties but he didn’t like the majority of them, mainly due to the locations.

Eventually, he struck gold and found a gorgeous little property with a medium size front deck that overlooks the picturesque harbour. There were two large willow trees on either side of the deck, the leaves swaying along with the gentle sea breeze. The moment Levi laid eyes on the property, he couldn’t help the small smile that graced his angelic face. Sure, there was quite a bit of work to be done before the teashop was up and running but Levi was more than eager to get the renovations underway. His dream was finally coming true.

9 months later

“Hello, what could I get you?” Levi stated calmly whilst looking at the tall black haired man who stood at the counter.

“Hm, I’m not too sure…what’s better, Assam or Darjeeling?” The man asked inquisitively whilst eyeing the large display of tea leaves.

“In my opinion, I’d say Assam. It has an extremely pleasant malty taste. Darjeeling on the other hand, has a more fruity taste” Levi answers confidently.

“Ok! It’s settled then, could I please get a pot of Assam tea with two butter croissants?” The man states exuberantly.

“Of course, please take a seat inside or outside and I’ll bring your order to you when it’s ready” Levi says smoothly whilst tapping the mans order through the till.

Since Levi first opened the doors to his shop 5 months ago (Kuchel’s teashop, a name everyone in town was familiar with), business was booming to say the least. The day he first opened the shop, there were queues of people waiting to sample the infamous Captain’s wide selection of teas and pastries. Levi was overwhelmed, in a good way of course. The amount of support he had received from the local people moved him, more than he’d like to admit.

During the first week, Kuchel’s teashop had received a hugely positive influx of reviews. Everyone loved Levi’s tea and the warm, welcoming atmosphere of his teashop. But most importantly, people loved Levi. They loved how passionate he was about tea and they loved how knowledgeable he was about the numerous different types of tea he offered.

Levi was getting ready to close the teashop for the night, he had finished cleaning the tables and counters and was now restocking the large display of tea leaves as low classical music played throughout the shop.

Once he has finished the closing tasks, he walked to the storage room and grabbed his belongings, throwing on his black trench coat and hanging up his beige apron on the peg behind the door. He turned all the lights off and walked outside to lock the front doors. As he walked down the deck stairs he stopped on the middle step and looked back at his shop, a huge sense of achievement and joy filled him.

Levi smiled to himself as he looked at the wooden sign that hung above the door. The words ‘Kuchel’s teashop’ laid on the wooden sign in bold black writing. He reflected for a moment, he knew his mum would be so proud of him. That thought brought him happiness. He was finally where he wanted to be.

#LeviWeek2023 #levi ackerman #teashop #attack on titan #captain levi #drabble #fluff #fluff drabble

[epithet-beloved]

ill try to keep my ramsey-related requests limited cause i dont wanna lose control but what are your dating headcanons for him 🤔

DATING RAMSEY MURDOCH

synopsis…  headcanons about dating Ramsey Murdoch !

ft. Ramsey Murdoch 

tags… relationship study, fluff

word count… 839

a/n… never feel bad for sending requests that’s what we’re for !!! It always makes us happy and we love writing these !! Also I promise you will catch me writing other characters in the future (I have a silly Slim post locked and loaded in the queue) for now I’m just snatching all the Ramsey posts and I feel confident about this one in particular because I am a Ramsey kisser myself so boy do I have headcanons ✧ 🦇

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 Starting off strong Ramsey is really into physical affection. Hand holding, hugging, kissing; you name it. He’s up for all of it.

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 So part of dating him is genuinely just having him hover around you constantly with at least an arm wrapped around your shoulders, whether you’re in public or in private (he has no problem with PDA; but if you do, he’ll stop. Your comfort comes first!)

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 He’s a really attentive lover, he’ll memorize small things you mention about yourself or stuff you like

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 If you mention you want something, he will probably definitely get it for you as a gift, no matter how cheap or expensive it is. He’s big on gift giving too.

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 Genuinely? He does not understand how you find him attractive, people usually recoil or make a face when they see him.

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 And yet you look at him with those big eyes full of admiration and wonder… Oh he could just melt right then and there. No one has ever really looked at him like that.

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 Call him handsome? Gorgeous? Beautiful? Anything? He’s gone. There’s steam cartoonishly coming out of his ears. He is unresponsive and his face is redder than his hair.

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 It’s kind of part of the fact that draws him to you: you’re not disgusted by his appearance at first glance, nor do you seem to find it hard to look at him; he knows he’s not the most attractive person and to think you do find him attractive?? The most beautiful person he’s ever seen??? He’s a WRECK

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 It is so obvious when this guy has a crush on someone

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 He hands you flowers he morphed into gold. He just always kind of stands around you when you’re in the same room. He definitely tries to flirt just to fluster you or hear you laugh.

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 Even if he fails catastrophically at flirting with you and falls over while trying to lean on a wall, he still claims it as a success if he hears you laugh (before he melts into a puddle when you’re all worried asking if he’s okay)

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 All in all Ramsey is very open with his emotions. You can easily tell when he dislikes or likes someone, he feels like it's not worth hiding it.

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 But when you start flirting back and showing genuine interest in him? He’s terrified you’re making fun of him. Because why would someone as gorgeous as you want someone like him???

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 Please hold his face and comfort him. He has small tears in his eyes if you do but he promises they’re happy tears

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 He understands that perhaps what someone has inside is more important than the outside, but he has to admit the judgment of the outside still hurts a little bit

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 He has so much to offer in terms of personality and affection and you definitely get to see all of it.

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 Think of a love language and this guy probably has some of it in him.

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 Physical touch? Absolutely. Big cuddler. Holds you like a teddy bear if you sleep in the same bed (he snores really loud though so good luck with that)

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 He’s also warm so bonus points in winter you have your personal heater

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 Gift giving? As mentioned above, mention literally anything you like and he’s getting it for you. He might have scammed someone to get it if it’s expensive. He does not tell you.

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 And he hopes you don’t figure it out because he does not want to get yelled at. He just wanted to get you something nice :(

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 Acts of service? He’s not a morning person but would absolutely get out of bed earlier than you in the morning to make you both breakfast. 

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 He’s not a very good cook but he tried his best!

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 Quality time?? SIGN HIM UP

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 He loves date nights. He gets so excited to do anything with you. But honestly? His favorite way to spend time with you is at home with some takeout and maybe watching a good movie together (and maybe you also cuddle)

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 He also likes cooking with you but again. Not a really good cook. You’ll have to do most of the work. Sorry

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 By the way the flirting he does with you pre-dating does not change in the slightest after you’re an official thing. 

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 He’s just more confident now and has no problem sounding all cheesy. He looooves making you flustered

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 He’s the type of guy to point at the scar on his eye and ask you to kiss it better

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 (He just wants an excuse to kiss you)

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 My favorite headcanon is that he would definitely turn something of yours into gold so you just always kind of have a memento of him with you, he thinks it’s nice. 

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 He’s a good partner but certainly not perfect (who is, honestly) so there might be some bumps in the road here and there

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 But no matter what he absolutely adores you and wouldn’t trade what you two have for anything in the world

#🦇's writings #epithet erased #epithet erased x reader #epithet erased imagines #ramsey murdoch x reader #ramsey murdoch imagines #ramsey murdoch #𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 request !

[duke-thomas-stan-blog]

I feel like we’re in a duke drought rn 😭 any advice on how to make it through?

i know 😭 duke tag has basically No duke every time i check it to queue something. and hes already neglected in DC comics. heres what we can all do to help this drought:

Make posts!! go read a comic and make some comments, observations, or jokes on tumblr.com. go make some art of your favourite moment, or just a character design of him, or anything! any effort counts, low effort memes or gorgeous art and everything in between

Write fic!!! this is in addition to the above, but we could always use more duke-centric fics! post a link on tumblr too- heck, tag me in it & ill reblog it

On that note, go re-read your favourite duke fics and give them a comment! fics authors love comments, dont feel shy if the fic is like 3 years old or whatever, comment!!!!! and also go read new duke fics but i assume you already do that if youre here

Go dig up your favourite duke posts (ive reblogged a lot if you feel like going through my archive) and reblog them again! spread the word!

send an ask to your favourite duke blogs and get a discussion going! we're always open to discussions on comic appearances, headcanons, au's, etc

look out for events! the duke thomas big bang is currently ongoing & starts to post in october, & duke week 2023 is happening at the end of september. go participate in duke week, go reblog posts when the big bang comes out, just interact with the community in general :D

thats all my advice, go forth and rejuvenate the duke tag <3 we will make it through this drought together

#ask #anon #duke thomas #dc #dc comics #fandom things

[chardou15]

Shattered Memories - Prologue

Okay, let's be serious. English IS NOT my mother tongue (it's Polish which kinda... sucks at some points ig) so if you find ANY MISTAKES, write to me (a comment or whatever). I'm translating that fic from Polish to English OTF. Why I am writing about recom! Quaritch? Hmm, let me think. I saw ATWOW 4 times and I OBSESS OVER HIM. Jesus, I know that man is bad (I hope he'll get a redemption arc), evil, etc., but, Lord have mercy, look at him. He's gorgeous as a Na'vi. Man. So I decided to make a history that takes place and time AFTER ATWOW (if you didn't watch that movie - oopsie but that story contains spoilers).

[1,028 words]

Pairing: Na'vi Quaritch x Na'vi Fem OC

TW: blood, death mention, cursing

A/n: I hope you'll enjoy! Bold words are in Na'vi.

tswin - a queue, a braid

vrrtep - a demon

ikran – a banshee

palulukan – thanator

A trace was fresh. In the air was the delicate scent of yerik, the Pandorian kind of deer. Nuyia stalked carefully, trying to be quiet. An animal wasn't that far away and was probably grazing near a watering hole, perhaps even closer.

The girl stood up and quietly jumped onto the branch, clearly seeing the tracks in the mud. She began to follow yerik, literally crawling. A drop of water fell on her forehead and ran down her young face. When she was closer to the herd of animals, she took of her bow from her shoulder. She bit her lower lip and concentrated on the hunt. Nuyia held her breath.

Suddenly, yerik raised its head, and startled with a loud scream. This happened before she fired an arrow and killed the animal. Nuyia examined the trees, trying to spy something or an enemy. And finally, she saw it.

The passenger of ikran that Nuyia saw above the treetop fell. Ikran was screaming and the unconscious or dead blue body was covered with bruises.

She hissed, her tail moving aggressively from left to right. Nuyia saw an avatar, a dreamwalker. Again, she took her bow and aimed at the motionless enemy. The dreamwalker was a tall man in a tank top and combats with a scabbard and a small belt pouch attached to his belt loop. A knife had probably fallen out in the fall. Nuyia looked around and found the knife. It was different from the Na'vi knives, more rectangular. The blade was also different - smooth on one side and serrated on the other. A handle was artificial and smooth. Disgusting. She made a face and threw the knife away, cursing.

She should kill him. She must kill him. He was a demon. A badly injured, unconscious, fuckin', demon. He was bleeding terribly from many wounds - on his head, arms, chest. She looks at him with hatred in her big, yellow eyes.

“If you… If you wanna kill me, then do so, sweetie.” He muttered suddenly, smirking at the same time. The man’s voice was hoarse and tired. His eyes were strange – not yellow, more like greenish-yellow. She hissed in reply, and the man laughed weakly. A few seconds later he fainted again.

Nuyia seriously wanted to kill this abomination, this damned dreamwalker who was definitely an enemy. He couldn't be good. Sky People weren't good enough to live.

But… She couldn't. She couldn't kill this blue, tall man with the strange mark on his left arm. Besides, he was hurt, and hurt badly enough that Nuyia, as a healer and former student of Unipey from the Tipani clan, should help and take care of him. Even if he was evil. A dreamwalker. A Sky Person.

Finally, she sighed, leaned toward him, and grabbed his muscular arm. She gave way to his weight, moaning and calling her ikran. Nuyia heard a familiar sound and saw Atan - her own banshee. Atan has blue, yellow and purple stripes on his body. She smiled when she saw him. She walked slowly towards him and took a robe from the bag attached to the saddle. Nuyia grabbed the unconscious man and tied him to the ikran and the saddle. His upper body was wobbling back and onward, so she jumped and used the rest of the robe to bind the demon to her.

She said Atan to go home. Ikran squawked loudly then soared.

“Great Mother Eywa, what have I done?” She thought while she was flying to her house and holding a stranger. “And what I ought to do with that vrrtep?”.

Nuyia lived alone in small, old particularly dilapidated school building where Rene Harper taught the young Na’vi English, math, and other things. She didn’t remember him – he died before she was born, but she knows his story from her own mother – he was killed over twenty years ago by Commander Falco, the former RDA chief.

Atan landed in front of the house, Nuyia untied a rope and jumped. She untied a stranger to and dragged him to the house. He was extremely heavy. She noticed that the demon was more muscular than a normal Na’vi man – his shoulders were broader than usual, and his waist was very trim. His physique resembled a triangle. Nuyia laid him down on her sleeping mat. Then she searched for drugs, herbs, and fabric to make a bandage for his wounds. When she found out what she needed, she was shocked to discover that he was really hurt. More than she thought. Nuyia saw a large purple bruise on his chest. She cursed and took a small wooden cannula and a bowl.

She took her curved knife made from palulukan fang and bit into the bruise. The blood became visible. Nuyia quickly bit the cannula. The blood flowed slowly into the bowl. At the same time, she dressed other wounds that were less serious than the one on the chest. She made a bandage from scraps of fabric and bandaged his head.

“He has a strange haircut. Really strange. And stupid. His hair doesn’t really cover his tswin properly.” She thought.

Nuyia applied the ointment, his body struggled in pain and he regained consciousness.

“Wha… Who the hell are u?” He said quietly. “Are u tryin’ to kill me? What the fuck are u doin’?!”

He tried to sit up but she put her small hand on his shoulder and pushed him up.

“Lie down, demon. And don’t get up again if you want to live longer,” she hissed at him aggressively. “You should be glad I didn’t kill you in the forest.”

He tried again to sit up.

“I said LIE DOWN!”

He grinned.

“I hope you’re not tryin’ to kill me, sweetie. You shouldn’t.”

“If I wanted to, I’d have to kill you before. You are weak. Like a baby, so don’t test me. Lie down, I will bring the food.” She grunted, then left the house.

“I really shouldn’t save his life. Great Mother Eywa, why? Why am I so stupid? Why did I help that demon? Why… Why again?"

#miles quaritch #avatar 2 #avatar quaritch #avatar the way of water #oc na'vi #fem na'vi #avatar fanfic #quaritch #colonel miles quaritch #recom quaritch #na'vi quaritch #na'vi quaritch x na'vi oc

[equestrianequivalent]

- Arrival -

Is this island really located just above the British Isles? Surely it shouldn't have taken this long to get here. You would think I have travelled for years. Perhaps I'm just bored of sterile white walls and tourist chatter. Not that I can say much of the latter, I'm technically a tourist too, for now. Give it three months and I'll surely behave like I've lived here half my life. Man I wish, imagine growing up on Jorvik. Atleast the destination is worth the age long travel. Still, I really could do without the ferries and tourists and alcohol and half-proper food, and tourists drinking alcohol and ordering too much half-proper food. Guess I'm just tired of people in general huh, shocker. Genius of me to work at a riding camp then. Ah well, they accepted me, it's their problem if I suck at it.

Oh thank god. Announcement lady, my saviour. 10 minutes and I'll be off this thing. Or well probably 15 or 20 with queues accounted, but point stands, I'll be off soon. Couldn't have been more well timed. Jorvik next.

Yeah that ferry ride really took me out. Even my headphone music is starting to irritate me. It's just a quick bus ride left, I'll manage. A quick bus ride of… 20 minutes? So closer to 30 with stops and real life accounted for then. Just a bus ride left, indeed. I'm still on time though, that's what matters. Atleast the bus will have windows, aslong as I can sightsee it's fine. God I hope this stupid bus isn't too full. Am I even at the right stop? Surely. I'm the only one here so far, luckily. No way to sneakily fact check my location though, bummer. Guess I'll just have to trust that my streak of always being at the right place holds up this time too. Who am I kidding, of course it will.

Well that's definitely the bus to Moorland Stables. Good, wouldn't have the energy to deal with a wrong bus line right now. Quite empty too, lucky me. Not that I'm doing too badly, it's hard to stay irritated when the weather's this nice and the nature so fine. They weren't kidding, this island is gorgeous. No wonder equestrians pilgrim here year round. Guess I'm basic for picking summer, though. To be fair, I'm staying past summer, but I'm still arriving at summer. Me and half the world's equestrians with the funds to go, not exactly a contrarian pick. Still, some things are popular for a reason. Just because I'll run into half the world here doesn't mean it isn't warranted. Although, I guess had half the world really been here I'd have dipped before I even got off the ferry. Would've been a shame to call it quits before I even arrive, I could watch this scenery pass by for hours. Who needs horses when you can sightsee. Combining the two will be nice, the best of both worlds. Speaking of, that's the stable in the distance. Finally. I can switch sightseeing for horses for a bit, no worries. An entire quarter of nothing but horses here I come.

God what a thing. Atleast it didn't take too long, but really? The stable's legally threatened, the owner's at god knows where, and I'm getting my horse tomorrow? You'd think I'm starring in a new sitcom. Poor lad should be happy I didn't have the energy to say anything back. Not that he deserved it himself, but still, what a situation. Ah well, free range to check out the stable and "familiarise myself with the horses" is a fair trade for human shenanigans. I'll take it. They didn't say which one I'd have though. Actually, have they even decided that yet? Surely they've assigned their personnel horses by now? Or did the already lost legal case fuck with that too? Whatever, not my problem. Yet. By Aideen, girl, do you do anything but complain?

#sso #ssoblr #star stable #star stable online #star stable fanfiction #Part 1 of a continous story I'm writing #Can't promise how long we're going for but I've got a few more parts already written so far #Part 2 will come out Friday at the same time

[youlikefanficdontyousquidward]

You make me dizzy!

Miski X Lyle

Summary: @thevanityofthefox 's oc Miski goes on a banshee ride with Lyle!

Lyle couldn't take his eyes off them. Miski was gorgeous, smart, funny and way out of his league. The way she strutted through the lab, coat billowing behind her like a runway model, his heart could stop and he wouldn't notice.

She was in front of him now talking, hand on her hips as she explained...something. Lyle flustered inside, he'd been so entranced by the movement of her lips that he'd not payed her words any attention. Still he kept his face stoic, praying she'd say something he could respond too.

"So what do you think?" She asked smiling down at him. Lyle shifted in his seat. Crap! What had she asked?

"Uh yeah, sounds good." He answered, praying he'd not agreed to something terrible. Miski seemed delighted, clasping her hands in excitement.

"We should go now!" She exclaimed, turning back to him.

"Oh now?" Lyle panicked again, where had he agreed to go?!

"Yes! If we head off now we can make it before the eclipse, just in time to see the change!" She paced over to her desk, bundling equipment into her bag.

Oh so it must be some plant thing! Lyle thought to himself, relieved it wasn't something too crazy. Still night ops were mostly forbidden, though his sway with the Colonel wouldn't make it impossible. Still no way they'd be able to take any ship up right now.

"Birds are grounded now though." Lyle explained, hoping a little that this would curb her excitement. That they'd have to make plans to go tomorrow and he could figure out what was happening.

Miski's fluffy tail stilled, her rounded ears drooping slightly. She mumbled something, nodding her head in disappointment. Lyle's heart couldn't take it. Seeing her so sad was just too much for him.

"But no one said anything about taking the banshee out." He added. Their ears popped back up, tail swishing happily behind. She beamed over at him and he felt his heart flutter.

Oh shit.

So there they were, boots tapping across the tarmac as they headed to his banshee. Lyle climbed up first, shifting forward to let Miski climb in behind. He felt her pull up behind him, her legs brushing up against his. He quickly flicked his tail to the side, giving her enough room to shift towards him and wrap her arms around his waist.

His tail twitched, the sudden urge to wrap it around her burning in his mind. Lyle swallowed that feeling down, connecting his queue to the beast.

The evening air was cool, the warmth of the day just lingering slightly on the breeze. The eclipse was fast approaching, the last light of the day casting against the low hanging clouds making them glow.

Lyle felt himself relaxing, Miski holding his sides lightly, his ikran calm under him, a perfect evening. He flew up more to be above the clouds, enjoying the view of the floating mountains in the distance.

Miski's hand tightened a little on his side. Very subtly but Lyle noticed, drawing his attention from the sky. Her hand slackened though and Lyle relaxed again. He tipped his head back to smile at her but paused.

She looked pale, her eyes unfocused and staring blankly through him. Then suddenly she was tipping to the side. Lyle yelped reaching back to grab her. His hand pressed against her back pulling her close against him. She seemed to be barely conscious in that moment, eyes lids drooping.

They remained limp in his hold as Lyle struggled to maneuver her whist still straddling the banshee. With some effort he managed to pull Miski forward and she now rested against his chest. He shifted her legs, hand lingering on their thigh as he balanced them across the banshee's back.

Lyle felt panicked, what was wrong with her? Had this anything to do with why she wanted to go out? Was she sick? Hurt!? He needed to get some place safer, somewhere he could better asses the situation.

Lyle directed the banshee towards the nearest of the floating mountains. He could land on ones of the smaller ones and check up on her properly. Miski stirred a little against his arm, groaning and swaying. Lyle kept that arm tightly round their middle, afraid they'd slip again, the other still holding the banshee's neural whip.

"Hey Miski you with me?" Lyle fretted his eyes darting from the sky to her face. Her brows scrunched her mumbling becoming more coherent. She was speaking in her native tongue. Lyle cursed himself for not learning more Spanish from Lopez.

She twisted slightly to face him, still laying her head on his chest. Lyle risked another glance at their face, concern still bubbling in him. She was still pale, a light sweat on her forehead as she moaned in some discomfort. Her breathe was shallow though, Lyle's ears twitched at the sound.

Then it dawned on him. Miski had had trouble flying before. Nothing ever that major but whenever the craft went up she had sat and buckled up. He'd always taken it as a plane sickness thing but maybe not. Maybe it was the thin air?

"I'm taking us down okay, you're gonna be okay. I've got you" He reassured her, letting his thumb brush against the her side. She still mumbled into the rushing wind, looking up with a dopey smile.

"Sos mi corazoncito" She bubbled before giggling slightly. Lyle quirked his brow fighting a blush as she buried her face in his chest. He cursed Lopez again mentally, Tes ves hermosa, what use was calling her pretty right now!

"Cariño" She whispered again head tipping up, her breath fanning against his neck. Lyle shuddered, landing the banshee. He let his arm loosen from her waist to climb down. Miski wasn't having it twisting and holding onto him. Legs wrapping around his waist and her arm over his shoulders.

"Mi vida!" She called burying her head deeper in his neck.

"Calm down! I'm still here, I got you." Lyle reassured patting her thigh. She seemed pretty secure so he shifted down off the banshee. He landed hard on the ground, her body jolting. He gripped her thighs to steady her, the soft skin under his hands made his heart thunder against his chest.

"Okay we'll sit here a moment okay, deep breathes" Lyle said as he sank to the ground. She seemed to understand breathing deeply, her hands loosening from round his neck. Lyle shifted her off his lap as the colour returned to her face. Letting Miski rest against his shoulder as she regained her senses.

"Sorry about that." She said eventually. Lyle turned to her, watching her ears tip back. The sun had dipped behind the planet now, the dusting of glowing freckles across her cheeks the only thing lighting up the purple blush.

"Hey no worries Mi zorrita" Lyle smiled, sure he'd butchered the pronunciation. Miski spun to him, eyes wide and frantic looking. Her fluffy tail whacking against the ground behind her.

"My what?!" She shrieked, Lyle's ears tipping back at the volume.

"Oh ah Lopez said it was like a silly nickname!" Lyle shot his hands up. He swore he was gonna kill him when he saw him again. Miski seemed to relax a little at that, dropping her head in between her knees. They groaned, tipping their head up again, running a hand through their hair. Lyle watched her every move, wishing their hand could be his.

"Let's just head back." She sighed, looking back to him. Miski was so close, he could see his own freckles glowing like a constellation in her eyes. Lyle nodded, standing quickly and offering her a hand. She gripped him letting him pull her to her feet.

"Promise I'll fly low!" Lyle jested, pressing a hand over his heart. "Scouts honor." He smirked, giving her a hand up onto the banshee. Miski laughed, settling in on the creatures back.

Lyle climbed up behind her letting an arm snake around her waist again. "So you won't fall." He explained, feeling her settle against him again. It wasn't entirely a lie but he wouldn't admit how much he wanted to hold her again, not out loud.

(Translations: Sos mi corazoncito- You are my little heart, Tes ves hermosa-You look beautiful, Cariño- Sweetie, Mi vida- my life, Mi zorrita- my bitch)

#my fics #lyle wainfleet #lyle x oc #avatar imagine #miski #okki two fics in day is alot i must sleep now

[aquabuggy]

Tomy Geyper Juego de Agua Water Pinball

Please don’t re-post my images/gifs/videos, thank you! 🧡

Haven’t posted any of my collection in a while, let’s get back on that with a bang.

Behold. My number one most valuable and prized item of my collection.

Isn’t she a beaut?

Fun fact about me, I love pinball! I really, really love pinball. I've been playing it since I could reach the flipper buttons. So we're already off to a great combination. And see, I've actually seen quite a few water games calling themselves "pinball" water games, and while some could definitely argue that they are, having the jet(s) of water act as flippers alone, those just didn't really hit the sweet spot for me you know? But THIS? This marvelous little contraption here? Insane. It's EXACTLY what it claims to be. It's water powered pinball, and it's really, really good.

The game is simple: Try to score as many pinballs into the above 3 columns as possible until all are caught or out.

I understand if anyone's not quite clear on just what all these buttons here do, and that's understandable, there's twice as many as there usually are for these sorts of games. The two large round ones at the sides are responsible for moving the flippers, connected to two powerful jets. The one in the middle to the right launches pinballs into the active game, the one left of it resets the game by emptying the caught scored pinballs and out pinballs, and loads them back into the queue, ready to be launched again.

I've been wanting to get my hands on one of these for quite a while now, and I'll be honest-I never thought I would. You see, I've seen this game for sale online a grand total of twice, including the listing I purchased this one from. The First time, going for over $300. While I will not name the final price for mine, I can say that this one was luckily not nearly that much. These Water Pinball games are quite rare, seemingly only being released in select parts of Europe and Japan. Which is a genuine shame, because this is a fantastic game.

The design of the mechanisms is ingenious. It looks simple, yet iconic and gorgeous. And most importantly; It's Fun. This water game is phenomenal. I don't know how else to say it. I give Tomy a lot of crap for their poor documentation, but really, they earned their place as a creator of iconic nostalgia. Their designers are genius, and I can say with confidence that no other company has ever come nearly as close to mastering the craft of water game creation.

#even the plugs are miraculously still soft and working! #currently working on a demonstration vid so stay tuned #aqua #aquacore #toy aqua #obscure aqua #aqua toys #water toys #water games #water ball game #water catch game #waterfuls #bug’s collection #colored text

[norabrice1701]

Rivals, Lovers, Immortals

F1 2022 Season AU - Angel!Max x Demon!Charles

Summary: In which the angel is a blunt, unapologetic Dutchman, and the demon is a charming, passionate Monégasque.  Typical, really.

Word Count: 9.5k

Warnings: Explicit 18+ NSFW sexual content, explicit language, alcohol, use of real radio & press-conference quotes, discussion of real-life death (that happens off-screen)

A/N: Spreading the multi-fandom net of this blog to F1! Inspired by the Charles and Max battles of the 2022 season so far with an Angel x Demon AU backstory, including some of their actual radio transcripts and press-conference quotes in bold text. This is finished for now, but might be more as the season progresses...? I still have Brühl!fics in the works, but this one jumped the queue. Thanks for reading 😊❤

Bahrain

“No, just fucking tell me what’s wrong. I’ll try to handle it.” 

…

“Everywhere, everywhere. It’s not even smooth. Like I have no fucking… even on the straight!” 

…

“No, it’s not. Mate, I have no… what the fuck is this?!” 

Hours later, Max doesn’t think about his words in the heat of the moment. He doesn’t need to. He says what he thinks, and everyone should appreciate that. The journalists, however, have different opinions. 

It still burns him. Victory stolen away in the closing minutes of the race, defeat in the form of a powerless car - he’s the reigning world champion, for fuck’s sake. He needs - no, he expects - better from his team and himself. Heaving another sigh, he rakes a hand through his still shower-damp hair despite the heat of the Bahraini night. While the shower may have washed the sweat from his skin, it did nothing to remove the stench of failure. 

Frustration simmers beneath his skin as he leans against the window frame of his hotel room. His gaze travels skyward, just able to see a few twinkling stars above the glow of city lights. He rarely spares a thought for his celestial home these days, choosing instead to fill his existence on the corporeal plane with hot asphalt, burning rubber, and petrol fumes. 

A soft knock on his hotel room door belies the strength of its owner, and Max abandons his musing. Because he’s not brooding, dammit. 

Angels don’t fucking brood. 

The door opens to reveal a familiar man who matches his height. Charles wears a wrinkled white shirt that looks hastily thrown on, unbuttoned at the neck to reveal the prominent mole that Max has kissed countless times. Mussed brown curls that always look artful even though Max knows better flop across the man’s forehead above sharp, mercurial eyes. Tonight, they glow a gorgeous green color, and Max suspects the demon has chosen this color on purpose. He doesn’t know if any of the mortals around him understand the cypher of Charles’ eye colors, but mortals tend to miss the obvious when it falls outside their realm of understanding. 

Those watchful eyes dart down the lines of Max’s body, reading the tension as clearly as Max can read the soothing invitation in Charles’ gaze. The corner of Charles’ mouth ticks up sympathetically. “I meant what I said earlier - that was shit luck today.” 

Max’s fingers tighten on the door handle as if willing the metal knob to break. “Yes, you don’t need to remind me. Especially not from your position atop the podium.” He forces a hard swallow around the words. “And I meant what I said earlier, too - but I won’t congratulate you again.” 

“Okay, fair enough.” Charles darts his gaze over Max’s shoulder into the otherwise empty hotel room. “Would you rather be alone?” 

The question rankles Max’s already seething vexation, but he turns from the door without a word and pushes it wide. The hydraulic hinge hisses as Charles catches it and steps across the threshold. 

All at once, the room is suddenly not big enough. Max can feel the demon’s eyes on his back, as if seeking to determine the existence of his wings. He can damn near taste the aura of triumphant satisfaction rolling off Charles, permeating every corner of his suite. He can hear the uptick of his own heartbeat as his hand clenches at his side. 

“I watched the race, and you know,” Charles’ calm voice drifts over his shoulder. “I’ve heard you swear before over the years, but I didn’t think your kind were allowed to say such words.” 

A spike of irritation shoots through Max, and he turns to level the full force of his displeasure on Charles. “Go back to hell, mate. And if you can’t go there, then you can just leave.” He shakes his head. “I’m not apologizing for it to you or anyone - and I’m done explaining myself.” 

Charles’ answering smile dims with sadness. “You know that I can’t do the former, nor will I do the latter. And you should damn well know by now that you don’t have to explain yourself to me.” His eyes flash a dangerous shade of stormy hazel. “You can be angry, you can be frustrated, mon ange - I probably would be, too. But never yield to it.” 

Max closes the distance between them in the space of a breath, pushing his chest to Charles’. He needs the demon's advice like he needs a dead MGU-H, and he screws his fingers into those lush, unwieldy curls. Charles’ eyes blow wide, darkening to a molten green that borders on black as he smiles like the cat who got the cream. Max recognizes that he’s taken the bait and played right into the demon’s hand, but in the eternal struggle, losses balance the gains. 

He hovers his lips over Charles’, breathing the scent of luxurious citrus and cypriol deep into his lungs. “Haven’t you heard?” He purrs low and throaty, relishing Charles’ answering shudder. “I never yield.” 

“Well, I don’t either.” 

When Max unwinds inside the tight grip of Charles’ body, he almost believes in absolution. 

Saudi Arabia

“Again, it’s hard racing but fair,” Charles answers the interview question. “Every race should be like this. So, it was hard, and I’m, of course, disappointed that I didn’t win today. We just missed - I mean, we had two very different configurations with Max. We were quite quick on the corners, but slow in the straight because we put more downforce, so it was extremely difficult for me to cover Max in the straights. But it’s like this - he did a great job, and it was a fun race.” 

The interviewer nodded in concurrence. “Did I hear correctly that you were on the radio congratulating Max, acknowledging that this was a great battle? The respect is there?” 

Incredulity flashes in Charles’ gaze, but he catches his expression as he summons words. “Oh yeah, yeah - it’s always been there. I mean, especially when you finish a race like this. Honestly, I mean - we are on a straight track, we’ve been pushing like I’ve rarely pushed before to, uh, the absolute limit, and we take risks at the end. So, of course, there is respect… but a bit disappointed.” The corner of his mouth lifts as the interviewer thanks him for taking the time. 

Turning back towards his car, the large sign emblazoned with ‘2’ rubs him raw as much as it motivates him. He can’t deny that his angel drove brilliantly here in Saudi Arabia today - perhaps a little too brilliantly, but Charles has the rest of the season to put Max in his place. 

Preferably begging beneath him with those gorgeous ocean-blue eyes drunk on euphoria. 

Charles reaches for a bottle of chilled water that rests next to his helmet. The liquid slides with welcome relief down his parched throat. His corporeal body boils beneath the red racing suit, sweat soaking every last layer, but it’s of little consequence. Charles is used to far hotter climes.

Perhaps it’s a flawed thought, but since Heaven is the opposite of Hell, he’s always assumed it to be cold. He’s never found cold as inviting as heat, but supposedly Heaven has plenty of other perks to offer. His gaze drifts over to Max, watching beads of sweat roll down his neck while he also gulps mouthfuls of refreshing water. 

Now that he knows better, Charles can’t help but see post-race Max as post-sex Max. His skin holds the same lovely flush, his thick hair falls loose and damp over his forehead. In fact, whenever they collide off the grid, Charles makes it his personal mission to recreate post-race Max in his bed. 

Perhaps he’ll have another chance tonight. 

Max’s gaze finds his, those clear blue depths sparkling from the thrill of the race. “You should know,” Max says, hardly sounding out of breath as he lowers the water bottle. “The lights on the back of your car need to be checked.” 

Charles’ face widens with amused surprise. “That’s… thank you?” A smile cracks his face. “How do you possibly know this?” 

“I just spent 45 laps staring at your rear wing, mate. And you should also know,” Max raises his hand as if to demonstrate his words. “You crossed the white line on the pit entry.”

“My team told me nothing.”  

Max just nods, continuing to gesture, crossing some invisible line in the air. “And you did it again, about, like 20 laps later.” 

His scrutiny of Charles’ drive takes Charles aback, but not near as much as Max actually telling him about areas of weakness. It works to Max’s advantage to let Charles keep making the same mistakes. “If I’m so prone to errors, then why are you telling me?” Charles asks, arching an incredulous brow. “What - were you trying to get me in trouble with the stewards? Were you hoping to find an infringement that they missed?” A laugh bubbles in his throat as Max’s face betrays the truth of Charles’ words. He shakes his head, finding no reason not to lay his cards on the table in return. “Well, I also had 45 laps to watch you as you watched me - and you moved up much closer to me during a Virtual Safety Car when the race should have been neutralized.” 

Max just tilts his head from side to side in a vague gesture as his face goes carefully blank. It’s a look that Charles recognizes from his angel’s press conferences, and a small surge of victory shoots through him. At length, Max returns his gaze to meet Charles’ as the corner of those full lips ticks up. “Perhaps you also need to have your side mirrors checked if you’re seeing things.” 

Charles holds Max’s smile until they’re ushered to the podium, whispering under his breath. “Ne change jamais, mon ange.” 

Later that night, Charles turns off his bedside light, disappointed but unsurprised that Max never knocks on his door. 

Australia

“I know what you are.” Charles said to him three years ago. 

Max glanced around as if to confirm that Charles couldn’t possibly be speaking to anyone else. But it was impossible. Despite the flurry of post-race activity in the parc fermé, they were the only two celestial beings on the Australian Circuit. 

He blinked back at the demon dressed in his obnoxious red racing suit. A rather appropriate color, actually. “So, what?” Max said, shrugging. “Are you looking for an excuse why you missed the podium today?” 

Charles shook his head, those ever-changing eyes glinting stormy grey in the late afternoon sun. “No, that’s between me and my team.” He raked a hand through his disheveled, sweat-soaked hair. “I just want to understand why you are here.” 

In all honesty, it was a fair question. Perhaps Max’s presence served part of the great ineffable plan. Or perhaps, it was the universal balancing of cosmic forces. Or, maybe, it was just as simple as Heaven not wanting to admit that Hell was better than them. 

Fuck if Max knew why. 

He shrugged again at the Ferrari driver. “I’m here to win.” 

Charles considered his words for a long moment before a smile dimpled his ruddy cheeks. Helmet lines still creased his skin, and Max wrestled with the burning desire to trace those marks with his tongue. The urge grew hotter after each race, pitting in his stomach with unfamiliar hunger. 

The demon stepped closer, locking his eyes to Max’s with otherworldly perception. “How unfortunate for you," Charles said breezily. "Because I am also here to win.” 

Max nearly laughed, but despite the arousal stirring in his blood, he didn't mince words. “Bold talk for the fifth place finisher.” 

“It’s only the first race of the season.” 

“Then, may the better man win.” 

Charles’ eyes flashed before he caught himself, lowering his voice. “Except that neither one of us are men. Not how it really counts, anyway.”

Max arched a brow as he raked a hand through his sweat-soaked hair. “I assure you, mate, I am a man in every way that it counts on this plane.” 

Charles shook his head, mouth pinching to a tight line. “Sure, you are - just as I am, just as we were each sent here to be.” He held Max’s gaze as if nothing else mattered. “Just corporeal embodiments of our bosses’ eternal struggle that we each represent, non?” 

Annoyance pinched the corner of Max’s mouth. “I don’t talk about that boss. And certainly not with you.” 

A low chuckle sounded in Charles’ throat unlike the easy laughter that he gave during press conferences and interviews. “I imagine not. Christian would pull you from the driver's seat without a thought if you told him who you really worked for, or that you didn’t need Red Bull to give you wings since you already have them.” 

A smirk came to Max’s face. “Don’t they say that the Devil drives a Ferrari? If I’m not mistaken, then that would be Mattia - or does he already know that you keep your hair long and wild to hide your horns? Or, I think - maybe you learned that hairstyle tip from him?” 

It wasn't the cleverest or even the most mature thing for Max to say. But now that the race had ended, distraction had set in. The heavy weight of human sorrow hung around both him and Charles, soaking the paddock in grief for the third day now. Death went hand in hand with life for mortals, but unexpected tragedy always struck a deep chord. Max had met Race Director Charlie Whiting on several occasions, and in his corporeal state, Max wasn’t immune to the shock of the man’s sudden passing last week. 

But Charles didn't rise to Max's taunt. Instead, his face sobered as if he could read Max’s thoughts even though that wasn't one of Charles’ talents. As a fellow celestial inhabiting the mortal plane, Charles was just as vulnerable as Max to these sorts of situations. Usually the rush of adrenaline and surge of endorphins on the grid kept the maudlin thoughts of human life at bay, but it always found a way. 

Charles blinked back at Max, tilting his head. “You hear them, do you not? The prayers?” 

Max forced a swallow down his suddenly dry throat as he tried to keep his face neutral. “Sometimes. When I listen carefully.” He nodded gently at Charles. “Do you hear them?” 

Charles’ eyes widened as if stunned. Admiration - or perhaps adoration - flashed in his suddenly soft green eyes as the corner of his mouth lifted with a wistful edge. “I’ve forgotten how to listen, let alone how to pray.” 

“No one forgets how to pray, mate.” Max shook his head to emphasize his point. “Not even the fallen. We hear you.” 

“By your own admission, that doesn’t mean you’re listening.” 

Max didn't have an immediate answer. His fellow heavenly hosts were mostly content to ignore the furtive whispers of the fallen. After all, as Max had been thoroughly reminded, why should rebellious traitors be granted even a modicum of grace? 

Somehow, though, he didn’t think Charles was looking for grace. No, he was referring to something else… something to do with his own fall, perhaps? Admittedly, Max knew nothing about it, and he knew better than to ask. He had secrets of his own past, and it was best to let Charles keep his. 

Sometimes in human life, there just weren’t words - but Max knew he had to try. “Well," he said softly. "I’m listening to you.” 

Charles’ answering smile threatened to outshine the sun, and traitorous emotions stirred in Max’s chest. 

Maybe this was why he was here, after all. 

“I guess we just have to appreciate every day and every morning you wake up and that you enjoy life, and that it’s not only about Formula One but there are a lot of other things in life and this is just one part of it.”

The memory comes to Max unbidden. He spends so much time moving forward at 200+ kph that he doesn’t devote much to reminiscing. But as he stands in his driver’s room, letting the cool air blow over his heated skin, he doesn’t have much else to do. 

The scent of leaky fuel fumes still stings his nose and overheated smoke clings to his skin. He tries not to let his second DNF in three races get under his skin, but it’s a futile effort. There’s simply too much on the line. Instead, he reaches for his laptop and finds the post-race news coverage. 

Watching others’ victorious satisfaction in the wake of his own failure is a special form of punishment. It’s a penance, a vow - a reminder of the sport’s unforgiving nature. Only perfection is rewarded, and Max has every intention -

His heart clenches as Charles’ radiant smile lights up the screen. He projects bright-eyed triumph, his skin flushed with exertion to nearly match the red of his racing suit. The camera blurs the helmet lines that indent his cheeks, but Max’s fingers still itch to trace them on the demon’s skin. Charles ruffles his hair, ever mindful of the cameras, and his smile entices with the promise that anything is possible. He flashes a cheeky thumbs-up just before he moves out of frame. 

Max's blood boils. Everything about Charles’ carefully crafted appearance is so easy to fall for, and that's where Max finds himself… falling. 

Even as he strips out of his sodden race clothes, he lets the post-race coverage continue to play through the podium ceremony and the press conference. 

Charles’ voice carries through the speaker with notable excitement. “But we’ve got a very strong car - a very reliable car, too - and, for now, we’ve always been there.” A smile grows on Charles’ face to fill the screen. “I hope it continues like this, and if it does, then we probably have chances for the championship which makes me smile.” 

And Charles does have such a lovely smile. 

In fact, Max intends to keep it just for himself tonight. 

Italy

“Yellow at Turn 15. Leclerc has spun. Think he’s gonna get moving again – yeah, he is moving. Track all clear. Track is clear.” 

Max hears GP over the radio, and his heart stutters. But the car demands his full focus, and half a lap later, his worry for Charles is carefully tucked away. At least, his demon is still continuing to race even if he has fallen back in the pack. 

When Max crosses the finish line to secure the podium top step, he’s grateful for the frigid cool-down room. He’s not grateful for the video footage that replays the race, including Charles’ spin. Fortunately, it wasn’t severe and Charles had recovered to secure P6, but Max still feels his throat choke at the thought that someday Charles might not be so lucky. 

He quickly blinks the thought away, afraid what he might betray if they don’t change the conversation topic. So, he does. “That train was together the whole race,” Max says with a chuckle, nodding at Lando’s question. “Yeah, they were together the whole race, and I had to pass them twice.” 

He gives his own post-race interview, and he catches up on Charles’ media once he boards his private jet back to Monaco.

Charles shakes his head, frustrated regret tightening the lines of his face. “P3 was the best I could do… we didn’t have pace for much more, and I was too greedy. I paid the price for it and lost seven potential points, so it’s a shame.” 

The words echo in Max’s mind for the duration of the flight and for the drive back to this apartment. He’s shockingly sober considering his grand slam, and irritation itches beneath his skin. His apartment is too quiet, and his mind buzzes too much to hop into the simulator or go to bed.

He gets behind the wheel of his car and takes off into the warm night. He tells himself that he’s just out for a drive - as if he hasn’t done enough of that today - but he glides to a stop in front of a familiar building before he realizes it. 

Charles hasn’t made a secret of where he lives - at least, not to Max. As a fellow resident of Monaco, Max has driven by this building numerous times but he’s never stopped out front until now.

He reaches for his phone and fires off a text. It takes Charles thirty-six seconds to respond with confirmation and instructions. The elevator ride passes in a surprisingly nervous blur, and Max’s heartbeat quickens as he steps out into the hallway. 

Piano music fills his ears. Gorgeous, soulful, sonorous tones that speak to the very core of his immortal being. The melody cuts the corners of his mind, speaking to him in a language that defies words. It’s enough to nearly stop him in his tracks, especially as he registers that it comes from the door of Charles’ apartment. 

Max’s mouth goes dry. Is it… could Charles be the source of such bewitching music? The thought stirs desirous heat in his blood as he steps up to the door and rings the buzzer. Silence falls as the music stops and Max’s breathing sounds impossibly loud in the pristine, marble hallway. 

The door opens to reveal Charles with soft, post-shower hair above round glasses that flatter the shape of his face. He’s dressed in dark joggers and a white t-shirt - and even though Max has seen him dressed to the nines, Charles has never looked better. A tired smile lifts one corner of Charles’ mouth as he holds the door open, displaying the familiar rings and bracelets adorning his right hand. 

It’s a sight that Max wants to come home from every race to find waiting for him - and the thought punches him in the gut. 

Charles blinks back at him. “Typically, it’s polite for the guest to extend a greeting.” 

Heat burns the tips of Max’s ears, but he refuses to blush. “Hello.” 

“Hello.” Charles’ eyes sharpen with amusement. “This is a new one for you… showing up at my apartment. But strangely enough, not unwelcome.” He pushes the door open with a clear invitation. 

Max searches for words as he steps through the doorway and glances around Charles’ personal space - taking in the white, lush decor; the shock of dark wood shelving bedecked with vibrant racing helmets and shiny trophies; and, the glossy white, upright piano that holds a prime spot in Charles’ living room. He settles for the obvious as his gaze lingers upon the ivory and black keys. “I didn’t know that you played piano.” 

“It’s an old habit,” Charles admits, drawing up along Max’s side. “One that always soothes me, you could say. These… mortal minds,” he waves a hand towards his head, bracelets clacking with the motion, “they’re impossible to silence, sometimes. Music helps.” 

Max nods as he looks back to study the lines of the sleek, white instrument. “What was the piece that you were playing just now?”

“Nothing fancy… just one of my own.” 

No wonder the tune made Max want to carve out his heart if it meant Charles would never stop playing. No wonder the demon could create a tune that transcended every word mortals had on this plane and spoke the closest to Max’s native heavenly tongue. 

He turns his gaze in time to watch Charles shove a surprisingly nervous hand in his joggers’ pocket. Charles arches an uncertain brow above his wire glasses as he speaks. “Did you like it?”

Max holds his face neutral, shrugging a shoulder. “It was okay.” 

A chuckle rumbles in Charles’ throat as he sees through Max’s indifference. “You do know that lying is a sin, mon ange. As is pridefulness.” 

“No doubt you’re the expert on those. Which made it all the more interesting hearing you talk about greed to that journalist.” Max tilts his head with interest. “Shouldn’t you be extolling the virtues of greed instead of airing your grievances with it?”

Charles’ brows pinch with confusion - or perhaps, it’s irritation. “Yes, because that fits the mortal narrative,” he intones with mockery. “'I couldn’t do any better than P3, but I was greedy for more and my aggressiveness paid off when I finished P6 instead.'” He exhales, heavy with frustration as he shakes his head. “Not even I can make that sound good.”

“Then, how about you just leave the moral lessons to me in the future, yes?” 

Charles arches an incredulous brow. “Is that really what you came all this way, at this time of night to say?” 

Honestly, Max didn’t know why he’d stopped at Charles’ building and now stood in the middle of his living room. Maybe it is about confronting him for that interview comment. Maybe it is just the need to reassure himself that Charles is alright after that spin. Maybe it… maybe it’s just to hear more of that captivating piano music. 

Max’s gaze strays to Charles' dexterous fingers. He knows what those elegant digits are capable of when wrapped around a steering wheel or when teasing Max’s body to the brink, but now… to know that they’re also artistically talented? 

Max drags his gaze up the length of Charles’ strong forearm to his lines of his chest undisguised by his shirt. “Would you play for me?” 

The air goes thick as Charles nibbles his lower lip in a moment of consideration. “Do you think that’s wise? You know what my music is….”

Temptation personified, Max wants to say. A sin for his ears that his body wants to indulge. In the grand scheme of things, though, is it any worse than knowing how the demon sounds when he’s speared open on Max’s cock? A smile lifts the corner of Max’s mouth. “Consider it my prize for the grand slam today.”  

A frown darkens Charles’ face before it vanishes, replaced by bone-weary exhaustion. “You had to bring that up? As if I haven’t heard every journalist say that ever since the chequered flag.” He shakes his head, raking a ringed hand through his lush hair. “And that’s on top of what they’re saying about me.” He drops his voice in mimicry. “‘Oh, this is the first time we’ve seen a real mistake from Charles Leclerc. He’s been under such pressure for three rounds, and after today, can he recover? Or is he cracking under the strain?'” Shaking his head, he scoffs in disgust. “Fucking bastardos… how little they know.” He glances over at his piano, sighing heavily. “That’s the only way I’ve found peace today.” 

It should probably be ironic to hear a demon talk about finding peace, but Max doesn’t think that’s what Charles wants to hear right now. Instead, he follows Charles’ gaze to the pristine white instrument. “Then, don’t let me stop you.” 

Charles doesn’t even pause to reconsider. He pads across the floor to resume his seat on the bench. His fingers curve in graceful arches over the ivory keys, and he leans into the opening notes. Rich, mellifluous tones fill the air as Charles pours his heart out. Each note carries the passion that Max knows is there, each swell of the treble trills and the rolling bass waves convey the beauty and fascination that Charles' presence represents. 

The music wraps around Max, threatening to suffocate him as he watches Charles play. His face relaxes with calm contentment as his deft fingers glide over the keys with graceful accuracy. Notes drop like the lovely pitter-patter of rain, and Max loses himself. 

On quiet steps, he draws up behind Charles and stops close enough to let his body heat resonate against the seated man’s shirt. The piano music continues unbothered, and Max dares to lay a hand on Charles’ shoulder. His other hand follows and despite Charles’ picture-perfect posture, he leans into Max’s touch. 

Emboldened, Max leans down to nuzzle Charles’ neck, breathing deep the scent of woodsy soap before dragging his tongue along Charles’ steady pulse. The beautiful melody starts to fracture as Max teases a trail of kisses and nips along the tender skin. Charles’ breath hitches deliciously as Max trails a hand across the front of Charles’ chest, thumbing a nipple through the fine cotton. Charles’ fingers stutter, and the melody dies as he arches back against Max with a high-pitched whimper. 

“That’s it,” Max coos against his skin. “Let me help you, too.” 

“Yes, yes.” Charles breathes as he raises his right arm overhead to wrap around Max’s sturdy shoulder. “Just you.” 

The possessive tone in Charles’ voice makes Max dizzy as blood rushes to his cock. He nips Charles’ collar bone, sucking on a patch of skin that will stay hidden from prying cameras. “Only me,” he growls as he tugs Charles back against him. “Fuck, I want you here - right againt your piano. So that every time you play it, you think of me… you remember that you’re mine.” 

Another gorgeous, needy whimper pitches high in Charles’ throat as his nails dig into Max’s shoulder. “You are not going to make a mess of my piano.” 

But when Max finally slides inside Charles, the inferno of the demon’s body scorches his wings and maybe - just maybe - Charles will forgive him. 

Miami (and some Austria)

Charles presses the beer bottle to his lips and tips his head back. The liquid’s turned stale in the hours since it was opened, but he doesn't care. Humid Miami night air swirls around him, doing little to cool his flushed skin as he stands on a hotel balcony high above the neon city. 

It's not a bad view, but of course, he wouldn't expect any less of Max's accommodations. He doesn't turn back to look at his angel still lounging in bed, though he knows it's a delicious sight. Probably as delicious as the sight of himself bare except for boxer briefs, basking in the glow of city lights that highlight the drops of their combined sweat still clinging to his skin. 

He sighs into the quiet night, tilting his head back as his frustration continues to ebb. His second place finish in the inaugural race still gnaws at him, but not as bad as the memories of his first ever second-place finish three years ago. 

“What the hell is that?!”

…

“Yeah. Anyway… not gonna comment. But I was on the outside, he actually cut my space just as he did the lap before, but anyway… I hope the stewards will see right.”

…

“Then, on the incident, I’ll let the stewards decide. For me, it was pretty clear in the car, I don’t know how it looked like from the outside. We’ll see what the decision is.”

Charles deliberately didn’t look at Max in the cool-down room. He couldn’t trust the words that might pour from his mouth if he dared to meet those too-blue eyes. Gripping the water bottle tight, he took long drinks of chilled water as if it would douse the fury that raged beneath his skin. 

His smile on the podium was non-existent. As he stood listening to the Dutch anthem followed by the Austrian anthem, he held his face carefully neutral, ever wary of the recording cameras. Of course, the brilliance of Max’s victorious smile only added to Charles’ anger, and none of it was helped by the realization that this was Charles’ highest-ever finish since he started racing in Formula One. That fact alone should overjoy him, but instead, he just dug his nails into his palm as his hands rested behind his back. 

He deliberately avoided all champagne spray and left the podium before anyone could stop him. 

The second place trophy mocked him from across his hotel room as he stripped and showered. Especially now that the stewards’ verdict had been rendered, that was it. There would be no punishment, and Max would retain his first place win. 

Hot water seared Charles’ skin as he stood under the swirling steam, frustration bottling up inside him. He didn’t know exactly what he needed to release it, but he knew where to start. Throwing on a white t-shirt and dark shorts, he abandoned his hotel room and stalked down the hallway. 

It took Max four knocks to open his door, and Charles watched his face harden when he met Charles’ blazing eyes. He didn’t give Max a chance to speak, pushing around the broader man’s frame to barge into the hotel room. It didn’t look any fancier than Charles’, and beneath the simmering rage, it struck him that he’d never been in Max’s personal space before. A rush of anticipatory thrill mixed with his already boiling blood. 

“I thought you weren’t going to comment.” Max’s voice carried over Charles’ shoulder, his words tightly coiled. “You said that you weren’t going to comment, and then, that’s exactly what you did - several times, in fact.” 

“You would have done the same.” 

“You don’t know that.”

Charles’ mouth pinched to a tight line and his left hand balled at his side. “It doesn’t matter now. It’s done. The stewards have decided.” 

“Then, why are you here?” 

“Because I have to know… even if the Stewards didn’t see it - I want to hear you admit it.” Charles turned, anger twisting his face. “I want to hear you own up to what you did to me out there.” 

Max’s brows raised as if he’d never heard a more ridiculous request. His face held the picture of innocence, and Charles wanted to scratch the look off with his claws. Instead, he just watched as Max braced a hand against his hip as he spoke. “I meant what I said - it was hard racing and we ran out of room. I had the inside line, there was contact-.” 

“You pushed me off the fucking track! You gave me no space!” 

Max gave a short, sharp shake of his head as the line of his jaw tensed. “I’m not doing this with you, mate. You said yourself - the stewards have decided. There’s nothing for either of us to admit except that it was hard racing.” 

“You stole it from me!” Charles hissed, closing the distance to Max before the angel could even blink. His eyes burned a dark scarlet as he seethed. “It was my race and you ripped it from my hands. I gave it my all, and you ripped out all I had just to win.” 

Max held his gaze and fire raced down Charles’ spine as those ocean-blue eyes turned stormy. “You can’t tell me that you wouldn’t have done the same.” 

“I would have followed the rules.” 

“So did I.” The angel’s gaze swept over Charles’ face, lingering on the line of his mouth, and static crackled in the air. Charles’ blood raced, heart pounding as desirous hunger fired in his belly. Max dragged his gaze back up to meet Charles’, exhaling a deep breath that held the faintest tremor. “You need to leave, Charles. Take your anger out on someone else.” 

“What if I don’t want to? What if I want you?” He paid no mind to his phrasing as he waved a frustrated hand in the small space between them. “You’re the cause of it anyway.” 

“Is that so?” Max’s eyes darkened as his tone dropped to a sinful register that he shouldn’t be capable of. 

A delicious shiver crawled down Charles’ spine, and the last piece fell into place as his body came alive and his cock thickened. Words failed him, his lips finding Max’s within the space of a breath - and those gorgeous, full lips met him head on. 

The kiss ripped the breath from Charles’ lungs, draining the blood from his head and curling his toes. Max pressed with feverish, bruising force that rushed liquid fire down Charles’ spine as their teeth scraped and tongues tangled. The angel tasted like forbidden salvation, and Charles offered up every part of his damned soul.

Strong, calloused hands found Charles’ hips and snaked around his back, crushing him closer. A growl rumbled in Charles’ throat as they connected from chest to thighs, dizzy from the rush of Max pressed flush against him. He wanted Max to take him apart, to be reminded of this perfect moment with each step he took tomorrow. 

Charles’ hands roamed across endless planes of toned and taut muscle, teasing the firm shape of Max’s clothed backside as he blindly rolled his hips forward. He couldn’t find the words for how much he wanted Max to wreck him, but he tried to use his tongue as he arched against the broader man with desperate need. 

Ragged moans sounded from both of them when the hard lines of their cocks connected. Charles’ heartbeat ratcheted higher as he chased the delicious friction, gasping against the drag of Max’s teeth along his neck. He clawed at the hem of Max’s shirt as his knees threatened to give - and why they fuck were they still standing here? Digging his nails into Max’s hips, they moved in a fused tangle back towards the bed. Charles’ breath punched from his chest when his back hit the mattress and Max’s heady weight bore down on him. 

He wasted no more time to strip Max out of his shirt, revealing a delicious tableau of solid muscle. Dragging his fingers across the smooth, flushed skin, he pinched a nipple as Max sucked on the junction of Charles’ neck and shoulder. By Satan, it was good - it was fucking great - but it was hardly enough. 

With a growl, Charles arched his back to ease the removal of his own shirt, and the press of skin on skin was dizzying. Their mouths connected for a harsh, sloppy, devouring kiss, a whimper sounding high in Charles’ throat as his hips pushed up against Max’s with intent. 

“What do you need?” Max breathed into his mouth, grinding his erection against Charles’. “Tell me.” 

Charles moaned as sparks shot through him. “Need you in me,” he breathed. “Need you to fuck me.” 

An unholy growl sounded from Max as he thrust down hard against Charles. It held delicious promise, and Charles hated how much clothing was still in the way. Max’s words came breathless against his lips. “I don’t… I didn’t exactly plan for this.” 

“I don’t care.” Charles pushed as the waistband of Max’s joggers. “Want you - need you.” 

Max groaned as he lifted his hips to accommodate the slide of his own clothing and to strip Charles of his last layers. “I don’t want to hurt you.” 

Charles dug his nails into the broad expanse of Max’s back and tilted his head to meet the angel’s eyes. His pupils nearly eclipsed the ocean-blue depths of his beautiful eyes, and Charles wanted everything that Max would give him. “I want it to hurt.” 

Charles blinks back to the muggy night as smoldering embers ignite in his blood. He may have just left the heat of his angel’s body, but Max has always stirred an insatiable hunger. He hadn’t wanted to admit to himself prior to Austria three years ago, but after that night… well, he knows better than to deceive himself. 

He takes another drink of lukewarm beer before stepping back inside. Cold, conditioned air washes over him, and it doesn’t feel as stifling as it did in the immediate post-orgasmic minutes still wrapped in Max’s embrace. 

But speaking of his angel… the man still lays sprawled against the luxurious cotton sheets. His eyes are closed, and Charles drinks in the endless expanses of tanned, toned skin on display. He recognizes how spoiled he is to have a lover with such looks, but then again, he’s never been one to settle for anything less than what he wants. 

It’s as true on this mortal plane as it ever was. 

Slowly, as if feeling the weight of Charles’ gaze, Max cracks an eye and arches a questioning brow. “Stop staring.” He sighs as he relaxes further into the mattress. “It’s nothing you haven’t already seen.” 

“Doesn’t mean it’s still not beautiful - or that you’re not beautiful.” The words leave him, and Charles’ brow furrows. Is that the right way to say it? Admittedly, English isn’t his strongest language, but Max doesn’t look bothered. Instead, his angel shifts his hips and flexes his toes in a deep stretch that lengthens the already lovely lines of his bare body. 

It’s more temptation than Charles can resist, and he slides his boxer briefs back down to the floor before crawling onto the mattress. He drops a kiss to a kneecap, slowly nuzzling up the strong line of muscle towards Max’s hips. His tongue leaves a trail as he goes, marking his angel’s skin with little nips of his teeth. Max’s breath hitches when Charles mouths along the inside of his thigh before sinking his teeth into the meaty muscle. 

Max curses low in a language that Charles doesn’t recognize - Dutch, perhaps - as a heavy hand finds Charles’ sex-mussed hair. “Round two already?” 

Charles’ chuckle hums against Max’s skin as he studies Max’s renewing arousal. “Instead of an objection, I see you raising something very different.” He drifts more kisses back towards the outside of Max’s thigh and hip, leaving his cock unattended for the moment. “You know that I have endurance - even godlike stamina - as one of the fittest athletes in the world.” 

Max snorts an inelegant sound as he arches a brow. “I know that you just came so hard that you killed some brain cells, but did you forget that I’m also one of those 20 fittest athletes?” 

Charles’ mouth quirks as he tilts his head to rest his cheek against Max’s hip, a wicked glint in his eyes. “Don’t you have… how they say, reliability issues?” 

It’s a testament to the sex-blissed state of Max’s brain that he just lifts the corner of his mouth and screws his hand tighter in Charles’ hair before speaking. “Don’t confuse the car with the man.” 

“Believe me, mon ange,” Charles turns to press a kiss to the soft, sensitive skin of Max’s belly, “I like your chassis much better.” 

Max shudders with poorly concealed laughter as Charles continues to nuzzle and kiss his way down to Max’s burgeoning erection. He nuzzles the base of trimmed hair, inhaling Max's scent into every fiber of his being. His tongue licks a long stripe as he settles over Max's solid thighs and takes him into his mouth. The salty and tangy taste of him stirs a moan in Charles’ chest as he hollow his cheeks. His angel arches into the touch, groaning deliciously and tightening his fingers in Charles' hair. 

He revels in the power of the heady moment with his angel so wrecked beneath him. His fingers tease between strong thighs to where his earlier release threatens to drip from Max's body. It’s effortless to slide two fingers past the loosened muscle and find Max’s white hot spot with easy familiarity. 

Eventually, he takes mercy on Max. And when he replaces his fingers with his cock, he hates how much it feels like home. 

Spain

“Switch off the engine?” 

Even as Charles hears himself say it over the radio replay, there’s no mistaking the heartbroken dejection. Not that his retirement from today’s race hurts any less hours later, but he knows that he said all the right things. 

“It’s okay. We’ll come back stronger.” 

Or was that the wrong thing to say? He swallows the mouthful of liquor before thumping his head back against the pillow and switching over to the replay of post-race interviews.

His, of course, comes up first.  

“We just need to understand what went wrong, for it to not happen again because every point is important and today, by the look of it, we’ll lose quite a lot of points in the championship, so yeah… we cannot afford to do that too many times during a season. So now, we’ll just keep our heads down and come back stronger at the next race.” 

He cards his fingers through his hair with a heavy sigh as he takes another long drink, feeling the alcohol burn to the pit of his empty stomach. He has to play the mortal game to stay in this sport, but… is it so wrong to want to believe it? To want that to be all there is? 

Perhaps his angel is rubbing off on him more than he realized. 

The thought of Max makes his stomach clench. To Max’s credit, he said nothing on the radio when word reached him of Charles’ power failure and subsequent retirement. He just kept his head down and won the race. Part of Charles burns at his race-focused detachment, but he can’t entirely fault the man. 

The man. Pfft. 

By all accounts, especially to the ignorant eye, the Dutchman is just that - just as Charles is a Monégasque. But one celestial recognizes another with razor sharp accuracy. In quieter moments, Charles tries to picture his ocean-eyed angel with a gleaming halo and feathered wings. Each time he does, Max looks insufferably bored, and a smile teases Charles’ face. Perhaps that’s why Max does what he does here on the corporeal plane. 

Charles can relate. He remembers trying to ask Max about it three years ago in Australia, but now realizes that he didn’t convey the full meaning of his question. At this point in his existence, he speaks too many languages to get any of them perfect, and English is just another on the list. 

Max, however, doesn’t seem to have that problem as his victorious post-race interview plays. 

“I got a question for Max,” the journalist said from his phone speaker. “Today, we have seen that Leclerc had to retire. Do you have the feeling that these cars are less reliable than the previous years’ cars?” 

Charles’ ears perk as he turns his gaze to his phone screen. 

Max huffs a breath. “It shouldn’t be really car related because, like, the engines and stuff are pretty much the same. Of course, the fuel has changed a little bit, but it’s a bit weird, yeah…. Also, from our side, of course, we had already two retirements where before we were always really strong on reliability, so it’s a bit difficult to tell.” He pauses, shaking his head. “It’s also not major issues that we had. I don’t know, of course, about Ferrari, but from outside - it’s little things, and yeah… we are trying to be on top of that. But I don’t think it’s specifically car related.” 

Charles’ heart skips in his chest, and he registers a lazy smile curling his lips. A numbing - because he’s not drunk - fog grows in his brain as he watches the rest of the press conference conclude.

Taking another burning drink, he shuffles against the mattress. Careful not to spill the half-empty bottle, he opens his text messages and finds the number that he wants. 

Lec: That was nice of you. What you said 

He raises the bottle to his lips as he hits send and waits for the blinking dots to appear. An excited current arcs in his chest when Max doesn’t disappoint. 

Ver: You think so? 

Lec: I know so, mon ange 😘

Ver: … Are you drunk? 

Charles snorts as if he’s never heard a more preposterous idea. He blinks down at his phone to clear the swirling letters from his vision as he types. 

Lec: How dare you dout meLec: *doubt 

Ver: Even without your poor poker face, you’re a shit liar 

Lec: I’m nothing of the sort. I’m just the driver of a powerless carLec: And the owner of a lonely heart… and bed 😉

Ver: Your wink is not sexy 

Lec: Now you hurt my feelingLec: Err, feelings 

Ver: Mate… everyone knows you can’t wink

Lec: That’s what I want them all to thinkLec: You, alsoLec: My wink is too powerful for mortals 

Ver: Now I know that you’re drunk 

Lec: And you’re still not here 

Ver: I’ve driven enough for one today, ja? 

Lec:🖕Lec: Below the belt, mate 

Ver: I’m not sober enough to drive… 

Lec: But are you sober enough for me? 😘🍆

Ver: You’re going to hate yourself by morning 

Lec: I know what I’m doing. Don’t you? 

Charles’ breath catches when those blinking dots disappear, starting and stopping several times. No message pings on his phone, and he nibbles his lip in a moment of doubt. He presses the liquor bottle to his lips for another long drink to ease his uncertainty. 

When his phone pings with a message, he doesn’t even try to stop the goofy smile that overtakes his face. 

Ver: I know that I wish you were here 

Lec: Me, too. Or that you were hereLec: Though, there’s still a permanent smudge on my piano 

Ver: Your fault for getting it in white 

Lec: I never expected an angel to lack such self-control 

Ver: Maybe you’re a bad influence 😈

Lec: I’m the best influence, mon angeLec: You’re just jealous 

Ver: Maybe I amVer: You are giving a lot more love to a liquor bottle than to me right now 

Lec: How dare you! You’re getting all ten of my fingers at onceLec: At least, as many of those as it tajes to type

Ver: We should each get some sleep 

Lec: Tomorrow? Today?Lec: I want to see youLec: Seeing you makes it… not so bad, even if your stupid face reminds me of what I lost 

Ver: You know you like my face 

Lec: Don’t put your words in my mouth 

Ver: Later today, you can have whatever you want of mine in your mouth instead

Arousal buzzes in Charles’ veins and his head spins. If only he wasn’t so drunk, if only Max was more sober… ugh, why does later today have to be so far away? 

Ver: Welterusten, Charles 

Lec: Buona notte, mio angelo

He sighs like a lovesick fool as he sets the liquor bottle on his bedside table and finds his feet. They seem kilometres away from his head as he navigates to the bathroom, but he’s too high on the fluttering of his heart to care. 

Monaco

Max stands along a quiet corner of the shoreline, letting the sea breeze wash over his cheeks and indulging the briny scent. He doesn’t usually take quiet moments for himself like this, but after yesterday… well, he’d almost fucked everything sideways.

In his defense, Charles had been irresistible after the qualifying round finished. He beamed with triumphant pride after having secured his fifth pole position of the season, and the journalists flocked to his gorgeous, dimpled smile like moths to a flame.

Unfortunately, Max had been equally as helpless. Seeing his demon flushed with exertion, eyes bright with excited adrenaline, and hearing him speak about the thrill of racing in his hometown – well, his home as far as mortals knew – Max hadn’t even given it a second thought.

Max just stepped in front of the cameraman and dropped his warm hand to the back of Charles’ neck. His thumb stroked along the collar of Charles’ racing suit for the space between breaths before giving a solid clap on Charles’ shoulder. The demon didn’t hesitate to break from the interview, swinging his gaze around to find Max. His eyes softened to a lovely, mossy green as tender affection flashed across his handsome features. He reached out for Max in return, and while the contact was brief, it had been enough.

Only upon seeing the replay did Max realize all the implications their interaction stirred up. Would anyone suspect that they were more than just friendly rivals on the track? Would it be such a big deal if they did? Despite their true natures, he and Charles have been carrying on as they have since… well, at least since Austria 2019, but Max knows it goes far beyond that.

He still can’t put his finger on why this season is different, though. Why had he been so careless with his affection yesterday? Has Charles just finally burrowed deep enough? Have Charles’ claws left indelible marks on his soul? Or is it simply that Charles with all of his delicious contradictions is Max’s equal and opposite in so many ways? A perfect match on and off the track.

The rolling grey clouds part overhead, and sunlight warms Max’s skin. He lets his eyes close, tuning his ears to the ethereal harps and heavenly choirs. A light breeze ruffles his hair as he breathes and allows himself to listen.

His restlessness kicks in immediately. He braces a hand on his hip, opening his eyes and glancing upwards. “Well, what did you expect?” With a shake of his head, he arches an eyebrow. “You knew what would happen.”

Fond warmth kindles in his chest as his thoughts settle back to Charles. Perhaps it’s good for both of them that neither of them were the top step finishers of today’s race. Despite the frustration and raging emotions of the human condition, there is something humbling about it. It stirs hunger, fuels determination, feeds passion. Perhaps it’s what they both need. Or, perhaps, the mortals who blundered should go eat dirt. A smirk teases his lips as he wonders what Charles’ opinion of the matter would be.

But speak of the devil. Literally.

Soft footsteps draw up alongside him, and Max recognizes his demon instantly. Charles’ presence wraps around him like a too-soft, too-hot blanket. Max is capless, dressed lowkey in jeans and a dark t-shirt, and absently, he wonders how Charles found him lurking along the shoreline, but he should know better by now.

Somehow, they always find each other.

Charles’ upper arm brushes his. “I thought you would be out celebrating.”

“Not much to celebrate, mate.” Third place is Max’s lowest finish of the season so far, and the press corps have been kind enough to remind him of that at every opportunity. There’s sufficient room for improvement, but they both know that already. It’s as true for Ferrari as it is for Red Bull.

Charles hums in gentle agreement. “They do try… our mortals. Perhaps we ask too much of them.” He purses his lips in thought. “Or, perhaps we expect too much of ourselves.”

“That doesn’t sound like you.”

“No, it doesn’t.” He turns, the tease of his smile catching in Max’s peripheral. “Perhaps you’re to blame for that.”

“You can’t blame me when you know what I am.”

“Perhaps.” Charles lets the noncommittal word hang in the air for a long moment before he takes a deep breath. “What do you think they would say? … If they knew about us….”

Of course, telling the mortals that they’re agents of Heaven and Hell isn’t an option. But what would it be to go public with… well, whatever he and Charles are. He wets his top lip in an uncharacteristic moment of hesitance. “I think maybe… maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.”

Charles’ mouth curls to a blinding smile. “At least, not until I accidentally turn up wearing a Red Bull shirt.”

“Wouldn’t your skin burst into flames first?”

“You forget that I happen to be partial to fire.” He tilts his head. “You know, I’ve always wondered – by comparison, does that make your home in the sky cold and icy?”

“If I tell you, are you going to say that’s why I drive the way I do?”

“No, mon ange,” Charles nudges his arm. “Any ice in your veins melts to those who know the fire in your heart.”

Everything about Charles’ words kindle fond affection in Max’s chest, and he swallows down traitorous words that crawl up his throat. Objectively, he knows that loving this demon would never win him favors or simplify his corporeal existence… but he refuses to settle for less than what he wants. And Charles… well, Charles is it.

The demon blinks back at him, face pinching in uncertain concern. “Are you…,” his words trail off as his grassy-green eyed gaze roams over Max’s skin like a brand. A smile teases Charles’ lips as he reads everything he needs to know in the lines of Max’s face. “Don’t tell me that you’re going soft.”

“For you?” Max recovers enough to respond, unable to stop from slinging his arm around Charles’ shoulders as he’s done so many times on the grid. “Never, mijn demon.”

Charles’ eyes flash the most brilliant, beautiful green that Max has ever seen. “Same, mon ange.” His smile rivals the sun as he wraps an arm around Max in return, settling against his broader frame. “Same.”

Max’s heart soars, and he swears he could fly even without his wings. There’s so much more that they could say, and things that maybe they should say. But why spoil the moment? The season is young and so much more lies ahead of them.

For now, this is enough. In fact, it’s more than Max could have ever hoped for. Contentment grows in his chest as they stand together – rivals, lovers, immortals.

“What do you think will happen first?” Charles’ voice is soft in his ear. “Your boss throws a lightning bolt at us? Or mine makes the ground swallow us up?”

Max huffs a laugh. “Your guess is as good as mine, mate.”

#f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #lestappen #max verstappen fanfic #charles leclerc fanfic #max verstappen #charles leclerc #2022 season AU #angels & demons AU

[morethanaloveinterest]

A Regal Look at Elizabeth Swann's Costumes in At World's End

I may not be an expert in historical fashion but I know good costume design when I see it - let's dive in!

 We first meet Elizabeth in Singapore, disguised as a native, presumably a man. Going to meet Sao Feng results in her having to remove most of the outfit down to this. I like that her hair is braided, sort of like a queue, which would have been more common here. I also really like the gag of how much firepower she's hiding under that poncho (and not so much the joke where she has to strip down to go in the bathhouse).

Female representation: 5/10 The first bit is 10/10 for being a very good outfit that tells us a lot of information about where Elizabeth is on her journey (i.e., a very prepared pirate). But then the whole bit of getting her down to her undershirt and especially being looked at from under the planks is pretty tiresome and a 0/10, so I averaged them.

Practicality: 7.5/10 The whole outfit gets a 10/10 for being the most practical thing she could possibly be wearing in this situation. As with above, the following outfit is pretty disappointing but I wouldn't give it a zero, so the overall rating is a bit higher for practicality.

 When they leave Singapore, Elizabeth is wearing this costume for the next few scenes. It appears to have an Eastern-style undershirt, with slacks and shoulder protection added on. It definitely feels like an outfit she cobbled together in a hurry and that makes sense for the situation (being on the run from the East India Trading Company). It's also I think the only time we see her wear armor until her pirate king outfit. This shows us how well she's adapting to pirate life on the run as well as her goal of getting everyone to make a stand and fight back against their enemies (her main goal for the movie).

Female representation: 10/10 Not gonna lie, I was sad not to get a full-length picture of good quality because it is one of my favorites of hers. It fits the situation perfectly and tells us a lot about her. It's also unique from what the fellas are wearing without singling her out as the lady of the group.

Practicality: 10/10 Easily the most practical thing Elizabeth ever wears. The only negative I can think of is that she might be hot, but she mainly wears this in Asia and then to the ends of the earth, where it is certainly cold at some points (it looks hot in Davy Jones' Locker but we don't know if it is).

Sao Feng has her dressed in this outfit while she is his captive. She wears it while she is next captive of the EITC on the Flying Dutchman until James Norrington helps her escape. It is obviously a ceremonial costume and is absolutely gorgeous. The embroidery alone is amazing, let alone all the other detailing. it is easily as rich and beautiful as any of her dresses in the first movie.

Female representation: 10/10 Honestly, the outfit for a woman who is currently a captive and mistaken for a goddess does not usually look like this. I would expect something white and billowy with a lot of skin showing (though obviously that is a Western view and I'm sure things are different in Singapore, but this was made by Hollywood after all). Anyway, I couldn't ask for better.

Practicality: 8/10 Being ceremonial, it presumably is not the most practical outfit for the kinds of adventures Elizabeth is on. It does allow her to climb up a rope to escape, which is more than I can say for most of her gowns.

And here she is, the pirate king! After taking a dip in the last outfit, she presumably puts this together from whatever was on the ship she and Tai Huang (and his men) take to Shipwreck Cove. And just look at it - it's beautifully made and actually has some good armor for going to war at last. It's perfect in every way.

Female representation: 1000/10 Our leading lady gets a costume change before the final scene and actually gets more layers? That never happens. She looks like the hero of our story and the king of the pirates and it's wonderful.

Practicality: 1000/10 Again, she actually gets to wear armor! In a battle! None of our other leads get that. It wouldn't do much against a direct shot, presumably, but there is a lot of shrapnel from the canons and I'm sure it would be some help against a sword. I can't think of another lady who gets such a practical change of outfit for the final battle.

This is presumably what she was wearing under the pirate king outfit. But of course she looks great in it. It's also more feminine than anything she has been wearing before it (even the other undershirt was more clearly a man's). That makes sense for her wedding night. Or the morning after, technically. It also makes sense canonically for it to be sunset but the mood lighting adds to the romance of the scene. I particularly like how the skirt (?) pieces swirl around as she runs down the beach.

Female representation: 9/10 It's basically like wearing a man's button down the morning after, but it is also actually her own clothes and she looks pretty without inviting oggling.

Practicality: 8/10 She's not wearing any shoes (except Will's boot briefly) and has a lot of skin bare for being in the Caribbean. It doesn't compare practically with the other outfits of this movie, but I mean I would wear it.

Ten years later, we check in Elizabeth wearing this outfit while taking her son to meet Will. We don't get a lot of information about what she has been up to all this time, if she is still pirate king or whatever. but we can see that she is pretty far from the proper lady we met in Port Royal. She is wearing a loose shirt and skirt with a waistcoat - presumably man's clothes above the waist and the skirt could be loose pants for all I can tell (there aren't a lot of pictures sadly). In any case, we can conclude that she is still bucking tradition even if she is now a wife and mother. Even if she might not be a king of all of the pirates anymore.

Female representation: 10/10 For a lady pirate wearing man's clothes, she looks pretty great - just loose fitting and comfortable instead of it being an excuse to show skin. Not that I expected otherwise from this franchise at this point (they've done fantastically going against tropes the whole time and especially with Elizabeth's outfits). A wonderful last scene of her.

Practicality: 9/10 Obviously not as practical as the armor, but she's not going into battle. It's a great outfit for what she's doing.

More costume reviews HERE

Check out my thoughts on Elizabeth and other female characters here

#elizabeth swann #pirates of the caribbean #potc #potc: awe #costume reviews