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ronwestbreeze · 2 months

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you're gonna go far | 9

pairing: jake sully x neytiri x tsu'tey x fem!human! reader summary: a scientist arrives on pandora (unwillingly) a year after the exile of the rda. now she must deal with the likes of a clan leader, a great warrior, and a thanator rider. word count: 6.3k warnings: mentions of suicide (not explicit!)

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Tsu’tey remembered when he first came back from death.

It was like clawing out of the ground and feeling as though there was dirt filling his lungs. He remembered Arvok hugging him and crying into his shoulder when he found him awake. He remembered his father sitting nearby and quietly thanking the Great Mother for this second chance, for this mercy, even though they didn’t deserve it. He remembered his mother calling him a gift and that Eywa favored him, that he was the true and chosen Olo’eyktan to the People. Like he was some type of god that Eywa created herself.

He remembered feeling so horrible that his mother didn’t even see him as her son anymore. But a god of sorts. An idol to look to.

Someone so perfect that no one, not even a demon or the daughter of a “simple” Tsahik deserved his attention or praise.

The People celebrated once they learned that Tsu’tey had survived the battle, even when all the odds were against him. In a way, they looked to him as some sort of god too. Not to the extent that Artsut did but idolized him, nonetheless. Tsu’tey remembered feeling frozen as if he were turned to stone, hardened into an empty vessel.

He didn’t feel like himself. He just felt exhausted.

All. The. Time.

And no matter what he did, that exhaustion or feeling of wanting to sleep for a long, long time, never left him. He was just stuck in this state where he was both living but half buried in the ground.

It wasn’t until Tsu’tey confessed to what he was feeling to Jake who then put everything he felt into words that he could not—still couldn’t—quite understand.

“It’s a common thing we humans feel,” Jake explained once when it was just the two of them in the middle of the night.

Sitting in a tree, watching a lively celebration far below. That world seemed so far away at the time. And it was then that Tsu’tey felt like the god his mother praised him to be. Disconnected from the world that he so cherished but watched over them with a protective heart.

“That exhaustion, truthfully, that probably won’t ever go away. This depression can wear us down until all we want to do is sleep without worrying about waking up. Living doesn’t feel the same anymore. Almost like it’s a burden to both you and everyone around you. And then comes the exhaustion.”

Tsu’tey stared at Jake, both thoughtfully and to memorize every detail of the dreamwalker’s face. “Have you felt this?” It was the predictable question at the time. He seemed to know exactly what Tsu’tey felt, so much so, that it sounded as if he lived through—still went through this experience.

Humans were as peculiar as they were dangerous. They hid their feelings. They didn’t allow themselves the freedom to feel as if someone or something was holding them back. They were often birds trapped in a steel cage when the way out was right in front of their face.

That was a certain observation one would notice if they paid close attention. Tsu’tey paid Jake a lot of attention. Memorized his micro-expressions. Noted the way he hid behind an impenetrable wall with a single window he only allowed certain people to look through.

It’s what Tsu’tey imagined loving Jake would be like. Finding ways to climb over that wall to embrace that lonely soul on the other side.

Which was why he was keenly aware of the fact that Jake never answered his question. But instead said, “Many people don’t always have someone to keep them above the surface. That is why most end up drowning forever until they fall asleep. It’s okay to feel these things, even if they’re hard to acknowledge. And if you need to talk, I’m always here. I’m too human not to help you, even if you don’t approve of me.”

While Jake’s words were somewhat flowery and cautious in delivery, there was Neytiri, who grounded him with her very blunt words.

“You are not a god. You are Tsu’tey.”

She did not see him as a god. And he was grateful for that.

Perhaps that was why he so easily fell for her after the war. Or, rather accepted his feelings after forcing them back because of his guilt with Sylwanin.

You did not see him as a god.

And he was relieved by that.

Yet that relief would soon be buried beneath the horror of something else he saw whenever looking at you.

It was himself.

Half alive. And half buried in the ground.

And Tsu’tey had this strong urge to start digging at the ground with his bare fingers. Until his nails were filled with dirt. Until his clean skin was dirtied. Until they bled.

He owed you that much.

“That demon did this!” His mother, Artsut hissed while she knelt next to Arvok’s sleeping body in some form of protection. She stared up at him, pleading, desperate, and angry. “Will you let that creature run free like you did before? Look what that thing’s done! She’s hurt your blood! Be Olo’eyktan and exact punishment on the ones that hurt your family!”

“Reeds didn’t do this.” His mate, Jake protested calmly—as calmly as he could when it came to Artsut. His arms were wrapped around him so tightly his muscles twitched whenever he moved, tail lashing behind him as he continued. “Arvok had already explained what happened. The Tipani warriors were going for Hell’s Gate. Arvok had tried to stop them, they got pissed and injured him—”

“And who’s fault is that?!” Artsut snapped viciously, eerily resembling that of a palulukan. “If that demon hadn’t landed here none of this would be happening!” She turned her fiery gaze onto Tsu’tey, her pleading becoming more adamant as she spoke. “You must kill it! This is your doing, you never should’ve let it live! And now our clan is in danger because of that creature—”

Jake scoffed, his tail swinging now, “You’d love that, wouldn’t you?”

Artsut hissed at him, “You do not deserve to speak, demon! I should have connived my son to kill you the first day you came to us—”

“Enough!” Tsu’tey hissed as he stalked forward and grabbed his mother by the arm.

“Tsu’tey—” She tried protesting only to be interrupted by his hiss.

“Be quiet, mother.” He led her out of his shared hut and went outside.

Once they were further away from the entrance, he let her arm go.

“My son—”

“No, mother.” Tsu’tey didn’t want to hear any excuses or laments that would make him feel awful for putting her in her place. “I’ve warned you and you’ve gone too far many times now. You are my mother, I do not wish to remove you from my children’s lives—”

She gasped and grabbed his wrist, “Do not be so cruel to your mother! You would prevent me from seeing my own grandchildren?!”

“You do not even accept the one son that I have!” Tsu’tey snapped but stopped when her eyes widened. He did not wish to shout. He did not wish for any more division. But she wasn’t making it any easier on him. So he continued slowly, “Jakesully is my mate. Neytiri is my mate. I will not allow you to keep disrespecting them. They are a part of my life, they make me happy. Shouldn’t that be what you wish for your own son? Do you not want me to be happy?”

Artsut scoffed in disbelief as if what he was saying were unbelievable, “Of course, I do. I wish for nothing but eternal happiness for my one and only boy—”

“I am not your only child.” He said gently, his heart falling. “Your son nearly died—”

“I know this! Do you think I do not know?!” Her eyes became glassy, her grip on his wrist tightening. “But know this, son. I do want your happiness. That is what any mother wants for her children.”

Tsu’tey watched her with a frown. He wished, he really wished he could believe her. Maybe a part of him did—wanted to. But he couldn’t help this unease in him whenever she was around him and his mates. He’d always feel her disapproval. No matter what flowery words she’d say, she would not change her opinion of Neytiri, Jake, Neteyam, and even their unborn little one.

But today he would not push any further. Today he was simply too tired.

“You should return to your home.” He told her and pulled his wrist free from her grasp. “Arvok will stay with us tonight—”

“Tsu’tey—”

“It is closer to the Tsahik’s where she can come and go freely to check on him.” He turned his back to her as the next words spilled out of his mouth like blood. “I do not want you near during that time. Or for a while. Not until I say you can come.”

There was a beat. And then there was sniffling. Tsu’tey refused to look at her. “You are abandoning your mother! You would do this to your own mother, who carried you for so long—” Tsu’tey ignored her words and ignored the pang in his chest as he forced himself to walk away. “It is that demon that has done this to us! They keep destroying everything we hold dear! If you will not kill it then I will—”

At that, Tsu’tey whirled around and stalked toward her as he spoke warningly, “You should be thanking Eywa that your son isn’t dead! You should be thanking our Great Mother that the demon had brought Arvok back instead of leaving him for dead! You should be thanking her that the arrow did not hit him but the demon instead! And yet here you are, plotting to kill Eywa’s favored!”

At this, Artsut scoffed, “Eywa would not favor a stain on her beautiful creation—”

“As Olo’eyktan I order you to stay away from the de…” He winced, not wanting to sound as venomous as his mother did. “—from the dreamwalker. I will carry out the will of Eywa as I intend to do. As this clan is intended to do. And because of that, she is under my protection now. She has saved my brother—your son. She has earned this right. You will leave her alone.”

“And what if I don’t?!” Artsut shouted as Tsu’tey turned his back away from her and began stalking back to his hut. “Will you punish your own mother?! Will you kill me?! Tsu’tey? Tsu’tey, answer me! Do not turn your back on me! Tsu’tey—”

Her cries continued to ring in his ears, making him tremble.

He did not feel like a god.

He just felt like a failure.

Failure of a son.

Failure of a mate.

Failure of a leader.

He did not return to his hut.

You were lost. That was fine.

To be honest, you weren’t even focusing enough to go where you wanted. Frankly, you weren’t even sure how to get to your mother’s burial from here. All you did was wander around until you were far enough from the clan, until all you were surrounded by was forest until your legs gave out to the point where you couldn’t walk anymore.

There was a large leaf nearby, big enough for you to duck under it and sink to the ground as it covered your head from the rain. There was still a bit of daylight out, so you had more than enough time to stay there. Because getting back up was going to be difficult.

And you weren’t even sure if you wanted to keep going.

Your mother’s songcord was dangling from your hands now as silent tears spilled down your cheeks. You cried. And cried. And cried. And cried. And cried. Until you were hallowed. Until you weren’t sure if there was anything left of you at this point.

God, you hadn’t cried in so long.

You were dead. Your real body was dead. That wasn’t even your choice either. You had been poisoned, you died, and now you were in a new body.

None of it had been your choice. You didn’t want this. If you had the choice—if it were really up to you—you would’ve let the poison kill you. Anything was better than living in this hell where everything just seemed to be against you.

No matter what you did to make your situation better, something always came along and tackled you back to the ground, pushing you further and further until you began sinking again.

Death could’ve ended all of that.

But even that choice was taken out of your hands.

You could’ve done it now.

You could’ve gone back to Hell’s Gate, grabbed your knife, and…

And—and—and—

For a moment, your mind was quiet as you stared at your mother’s songcord. As you stared at the bone that ended the string.

You were a coward.

Something rustled a few feet away from you. Your body froze and considered the sounds around you. The rustling continued, drawing a little too close for your comfort.

With that, you ducked from under the leaf and moved away from the sounds.

Because even if you somewhat wanted to die, you sure as hell knew it wouldn’t be at the hands of a palulukan.

No. You were just a coward.

Dying took bravery. And you didn’t feel too brave at the moment.

All you could do was stagger forward until you found something to latch onto. To take you away from this until you felt brave enough.

Until then, you kept wandering through the forest. Letting rain pour onto your already wet and somewhat matted hair.

You tugged at one of the locks and hummed to yourself. You should do your hair.

At that, you kept going until eventually you found a waterfall. By then the rain had finally let up, the air was cool, and the smell of rain stayed with you despite the downpour disappearing.

It would’ve been calming if you allowed it to be.

The area itself was beautiful even in this dreary weather. You found a rock just a few feet away from the mainland and jumped onto it. Sitting down with your legs crossed, you leaned over the edge a bit, staring back at your reflection in the water.

Well, you supposed you looked as horrible as you felt. Your hair was one of the main things contributing to that. The braid that Neytiri made was still intact but the rest of your hair was just a wild mess. It was beginning to mat together and form dreads.

So, not particularly happy with the look and wanting a good enough reason to distract your hands and mind, you began doing your hair.

Diving into the waters wasn’t a good idea considering your healing injuries. Instead, you ducked your head into the waters. It was nice. Feeling the cool water against your skin, waking you up slightly. You would’ve stayed like this for a while and you did, considering you could hold your breath for a while.

The tension in your muscles relaxed and right when you were feeling yourself being pulled to sleep, something yanked on your queue, bringing your head out of the water and causing you to fall onto your back.

“Ow!”

“Skxawng!” You looked up only to regret it when you found Tsu’tey scowling down at you. “What do you think you are doing?!”

You rolled your eyes and tugged your queue out of his grasp, “Obviously I came to drown myself. Congrats, you just saved the inconvenience.” Tsu’tey frowned, looking incredibly serious. You looked up at him and sighed, “I’m kidding. Do you guys not make depressing jokes now and then? Or is that only a human thing?”

He didn’t respond and you weren’t exactly waiting for one. Instead, you turned away from him and began parting your hair. You didn’t have a comb so running your hands through your thick curls was the best you could do for now. The best you could do at this point was take two strands and begin twisting them.

Tsu’tey appeared next to you, looming and watching you do your hair with a huff, “You’re doing that wrong.”

You glared, “I know how to do my own hair thank you.”

He didn’t move and you ignored him as you kept going with your hair. That was until you felt longer fingers wrap around yours and remove it from your hair.

“Hey—”

You felt his hands in your hair. Instantly, you went to yank yourself away from him only to stop when you felt his fingers move. It wasn’t rough or harsh, it was actually rather careful and precise. Any other day you would’ve shoved him away and told him to never touch your hair again but seeing as his braids were pretty neat and concise, you reconsidered.

Hell, maybe you’ve lost it. You were seriously letting Tsu’tey—the man who hated you the most—do your hair.

Maybe when you died you somehow went into a whole other universe. Yeah, that had to be it.

He was mumbling under his breath in Na’vi. You caught some words here and there like “humans” and “useless” a few times. But other than that his voice had been too quiet and quick for you to understand or at least translate some of the things he was saying.

Eventually, his hands disappeared from your hair. “There.” You watched as he stepped away from you to grab a bow from the ground, stretching his fingers, his face turned away from you so that you couldn’t see his expression.

You felt your hair to find some of it braided while the rest would’ve been left to mat together again. You tugged on it thoughtfully, perhaps you could let them turn into locs. It would be easier anyway. A lot more manageable considering you often forget to do your hair these days.

Next to you, Tsu’tey had also grabbed an arrow and approached the edge of the rock, pointing his bow down at a group of fish floating around the rock the both of you were on. You halfheartedly watched as the arrow flew into the water seconds later and hit one of the fish.

Absentmindedly you tugged on another braid as he went into the water to grab the arrow, “The Tsahik is looking for you.” He took the arrow from the water and yanked the fish off the tip. “She says you should not be up right now but resting. She is very upset at your disappearance.”

You didn’t respond. Tsu’tey looked back at you expectantly and you frowned, “So you came looking for me?”

A part of you was half-joking and half-annoyed when asking the question. You just wanted to be alone for a while. And dealing with Tsu’tey was the last thing you wanted right now.

“Yes,” Tsu’tey responded easily as he threw the dead fish to the spot next to you. You cringed away from it as he drew back another arrow. “And by the time I am done here, you will be coming with me to be checked by her.” You glared at the ground. A beat went by. “I will not take no for an answer. Your wounds are still healing—”

“Can we just, can we wait for a while?” You dropped your hands from your hair and into the waters. “I just—I need a place to breathe, okay? Back there, it’s just too suffocating. And I really don’t want to fight today. I’m too tired, so please…”

You didn’t look at him. But you did hear the arrow release and hit the water. Another beat went by. The waters slushed as he moved, “So you came here. For peace.”

It wasn’t a question but more of a statement like he understood it.

And reluctantly, you nodded in response.

For a while, you were quiet. Both of you. Tsu’tey grabbed the arrow and tossed the fish onto the rock. The water filled the silence, bringing you a sense of comfort in this long silence. You didn’t feel obligated to speak and Tsu’tey didn’t bother to conversate either. A big difference between him and Jake who would probably be talking your ear off with stupid jokes and infuriating jabs.

Not that it wouldn’t help a bit.

But right now, all you felt was exhaustion. Even Tsu’tey allowed himself to appear somewhat tired, at least from what you saw whenever his face was turned in your direction.

“I thank you.”

You looked at him then, his back was still turned to you as he continued, “For saving my brother. Arvok. The arrow, he could have died if you hadn’t taken it for him. You—”

“Anyone would’ve done it.” You shrugged off, not wanting this type of attention. Especially not from him. What you did may have been somewhat heroic but you sure as hell didn’t feel that way. “You don’t have to thank me.”

“But I will.” Tsu’tey drew his arrow back again. The arrow flew again and hit another fish. “Even when I treated you horribly. You still saved him.”

You frowned and shook your head. His thanks for some reason made you feel worse. You didn’t know why but you wanted it to stop. “Like I said, anyone would’ve done it if they were in my position.”

“Hmph.” Tsu’tey tossed the third fish onto the rock and jumped back onto the rock with you. He grabbed the three fishes by the tail and nodded toward the forest, “Come, we should head back—”

“No.”

You heard him sigh, “Dreamwalker—”

“I can’t go back right now.” You blurted out, your hands clenching into fists as you glared down at your reflection. “I just can’t, okay? I can’t go back and face the pitiful looks Norm will send me. I can’t go back to Neytiri telling me that Eywa saved me or gave some fucking second chance that I had no say in. I can’t go back to hear Jake apologize over and over and over again until I go fucking crazy! I just can’t!”

You buried your face into your hands, not wanting to look at him, not wanting to face the world. All you felt, all you wanted to do was just crawl into a hole and hope that everyone left you alone. You hoped that you could lie down and become stone. You hoped you could become the tragedy that was amid the beautiful Pandora.

You hoped—You hoped—You hoped—

Something within your body told you that you were crying but no tears came.

Half alive and half buried.

Until they bled.

Something heavy landed on top of your head. It took you a moment for you to realize it was a hand—Tsu’tey’s hand. You dropped your hands from your face and frowned, reluctantly looking up at him to find him staring back at you.

God, these people were straightforward when it came to expressing themselves. Even Tsu’tey, who you considered the hardest to read out of the three.

“It is sad.” Tsu’tey squatted down next to you, his hand gently ruffling your hair. Your ears twitched, “I am sorry.”

You were taken aback, to say the least. Never in a million years could you imagine Tsu’tey out of all people, comforting you. Frankly, you never thought he felt anything toward you to enact such a strange reaction from him. And yet you didn’t move. Too afraid that if you flinched then he would take his hand away.

A part of you felt awful that he had to do this. And a part of you…

“You don’t have to do this.” You mumbled.

He huffed, “I do what I want. And I choose to be here. You saved my brother.”

“That doesn’t mean you have to comfort me.” This unyielding guilt was overwhelming, You almost wanted to shove his hand away. “I feel like I’m using you.”

“Then use me.”

You shook your head again, his hand remained firm, “You’re impossible—as usual.”

“Hmph.”

The both of you stayed like this for a while longer. It was getting dark. Creatures would start coming out soon. Perhaps you should stop being so stubborn and move already.

Tsu’tey didn’t say anything though. He was rather still and quiet. You looked over, for a moment wondering if he was asleep.

Only you found his yellow gaze staring at something intensely. Frowning, you followed his gaze.

Floating toward the both of you was an atokirina. Huh, you hadn’t seen one of these in a while. And even now they were still as pretty as you remembered them. Last time there were multiple, but this time it was one.

You stood and Tsu’tey followed seconds after.

Even for this, you remained still. As if moving would somehow scare it off. Tsu’tey must’ve had the same thought, standing as still as a statue next to you as the atokirina floated over your heads. The pure creature hovered over Tsu’tey’s forehead for a bit until it came over to you, tickling your nose.

Tsu’tey watched you and the atokirina in astonishment. It floated between the two of you for a moment before finally floating away.

You watched it in for a moment longer before your arm began to throb. Tsu’tey noticed you rolling your arm back uncomfortably and finally snapped out of his trance, “Is your arm bothering you?”

“A little.” You admitted reluctantly.

With a nod, he grabbed the fish and then the bow as he gestured toward the forest, “Come. We should return now. Mo’at is waiting.”

This time you did not protest. You glanced back toward the direction the atokirina disappeared before finally following after Tsu’tey.

When you got to Mo’at’s hut, she was already scowling at you. And surprisingly it was rather scary. So much so, that you unconsciously shrunk behind Tsu’tey so you wouldn’t feel any of her wrath. Jake and Neytiri were there as well, for what you did not know, but they appeared to have been waiting for yours and Tsu’tey’s return.

“Well, now we know you are well enough to foolishly run off.” Mo’at huffed as she pointed toward the spot on the floor. “Sit.”

Without waiting for you to respond, Mo’at dragged you to the spot and sat you down on the floor. Tsu’tey remained near the entrance and watched you silently. He hadn’t said anything ever since you started your walk back to their base. You wondered if he was at all bothered about seeing the atokirina. Or if it was on his mind at all.

While Mo’at wiped the dried mush from your arm, Neytiri squatted down next to you, “How are you feeling?”

“I died.” You said dryly. “Other than that, I’m swell.”

Jake sighed from his spot closest to Tsu’tey and the entrance, “Well, her snark’s intact. You sure she’s not back to normal?” You rolled your eyes, Neytiri rubbed your back while glaring at Jake.

“We saw an atokirina,” Tsu’tey spoke for the first time since you left the waterfall. “It came to the demon and I…” He said the rest of his explanation in Na’vi. You frowned, looking at Jake and Neytiri to gauge what exactly he was saying. You watched Neytiri’s ears twitch as her eyes brightened. Then there was Jake who looked completely serious, tail swinging behind him. Mo’at gave nothing away as she added more mush to your arm. You held back a scoff, irritated that you were the only one who couldn’t understand a single word.

“Another sign from Eywa,” Mo’at spoke in English. She looked at you almost knowingly as she continued. “This dreamwalker is here for a reason. Maybe for the same reason, Jakesully had come to us. Or something completely different. Perhaps this is her way of choosing a fourth for you.”

Neytiri perked up instantly, her hand squeezing your good shoulder gently. Jake’s head was bowed, hiding his expression. And Tsu’tey just frowned. And you felt your entire face grow hot. Suddenly you were rather aware of everything around you. If you had been standing, you would’ve fainted.

“Or maybe it’s something else?” You offered, trying to move the conversation forward instead of enduring this awkward and uncomfortable silence.

Mo’at watched all four of your expressions and huffed, “Come. We will just ask the Great Mother ourselves—”

“No, we don’t have to.” Jake stood straighter, tail lashing behind him.

Neytiri stood and sent him a look, “Ma’ Jake—”

But he shook his head, “I’m not doing it. I’m not taking her as a mate. That’s not fair and you know it—”

“And if it is in Eywa’s will?” Mo’at challenged, raising an invisible brow. “What then, Jakesully?”

“Don’t I get a say in this?” You added, already growing irritated by this conversation.

“Yeah, you’re right. You do have a say in this. But I’m gonna make this easy for you.” Jake nodded steely. “We’re fine as three. There is no room for another—especially her.”

“Fuck you!” You snapped, shooting to your feet. “Who the hell do you think you are—”

“Hey, I’m on your side here!” Jake argued. You failed to see the surprised reaction from your outburst, you failed to see the way he raised his hand as if easing you like you were a dangerous animal about to pounce—no you saw that actually. And it only pissed you off even more. “Do you want me to lie and welcome you into my family with open arms just like that? Or do you want the honest truth, Reeds? You value that, right?”

You let out a humorless laugh, skin boiling in anger now, “You really are full of shit, you know that, Sully? So you think it’s okay to just discard me then? As if I don’t have any fucking feelings? Am I just an emotionless body to you, Jake? Am I not supposed to be offended? ‘Especially her’? What the fuck is that supposed to mean?!”

“That’s enough—” Neytiri started only to be stopped by Mo’at who watched the two of you keenly. Even Tsu’tey didn’t even speak up. He didn’t snap at you nor did he stop Jake. He just watched on in grim silence that neither you nor Jake bothered to notice.

“I’m doing this for you—I’m not sayin’ this just to be an asshole, Reeds!”

“Could’ve fooled me.” You snickered mockingly. Honestly, you had no idea why you were so angry. You were just tired. Tired of him. Tired of this. Tired of all this bullshit. “Well, if it makes you feel any better, Sully, you’re not exactly prize material either, so there. Why don’t you just say that instead of hiding it behind some horse shit—”

“Jesus Christ.” He muttered in disbelief. Jake looked to the sky, struggling to respond. Struggling to string the words together.

But it shouldn’t have been that hard. “You’re right, I do value truth, Sully. So be fucking honest and just spit it out. Enough of the trying to protect me bullshit—I’ve heard enough of it and I don’t need any more of it. Say what you want, do hide now. It’s easy when it comes to me, right?”

You were just angry. So, so angry. You weren’t even sure if this anger deserved to be directed at him. If this anger was even about this conversation. You weren’t even sure why you were fighting so fiercely.

Jake scoffed, “And you think you make being around you easy? You don’t think maybe there’s a reason I blow up at you? You don’t think maybe it’s because you can be a huge asshole sometimes?”

“Oh yeah, this mate shit is going to work out perfectly.” You snorted.

“I can’t mate with someone I don’t love,” Jake spoke more bluntly toward Mo’at, Neytiri, and Tsu’tey. “I don’t know how much more honest I have to be about this. I can’t love someone like her. How can I? Not even a fucking miracle could ever get me to, and that’s the truth. You happy now? Is that what you want to hear?”

The tent was silent by then. Neytiri, in the former of your eye, had her tail lashing behind her. Tsu’tey, who stood further back behind Jake held an unreadable expression instead of his usual severity but offered nothing. Mo’at just waited with her keen eyes on all four of you. She then sighed and shook her head, mumbling something in Na’vi.

You wished you weren’t so affected by his words. “Fine. Don’t love me, Jake.” You wished your heart didn’t sink to the pits of your stomach. You wished your heart wouldn’t take this much hut. You didn’t even want him. You didn’t even want a mate.

But you were knowable. Unlovable.

You’ve always known this. So it shouldn’t have hurt so much for someone to tell you this straight to your face.

“Earn that shit.” You muttered, schooling your face into your usual impassive mask despite your achy eyes. Now you looked to Mo’at who was watching you in particular, “Is that all, Tsahik?”

You failed to see Jake’s shoulders fall and his ears lower, “Reeds—”

Mo’at spoke over him, “I want you back here in two days. Your wound is not fully healed yet.” She then looked at Tsu’tey, her eyes seeming to want something from him, “Is there a problem with that, Olo’eyktan?”

At this, Tsu’tey shook his head stiffly, “No. You are Tsahik. You must continue your work.”

“Mmph.” Mo’at huffed in what appeared to be disappointment. “Then you may leave, dreamwalker.”

You nodded and stalked toward the entrance. Neytiri tried reaching for you but you had been to quick for her grasp to catch, “Ma ‘tanhi…”

Jake avoided your gaze as you passed him, “I’ll see you later, Neytiri.” You stepped out of the hut, not bothering to look back.

After jumping down a few branches and landing on the ground, you found that two warriors were waiting for you on pa’li. One of the warriors guided a pa’li toward you, which you got on without much difficulty.

And without looking back, the pa’li began to move. You were cold. And tired.

Half alive and half buried in the ground.

“I will make sure my warriors return her safely to the human base,” Tsu’tey spoke stiffly as he ducked out of the hut. Jake watched him go, uneasy about what his mate could’ve been thinking at the moment. It was the most difficult when Tsu’tey was like this. He was hard to read and wouldn’t let up until he confessed to what he was feeling. So, all Jake had to do was wait until then.

But right now, he did know one thing.

Fuck.

He’d gone too far.

Neytiri had watched you go just a few feet from the entrance of the hut and by the time you were long gone she stalked back inside. Jake flinched when her glare stabbed him through his thin skin when it came to her fury, “Why did you do that? Why were you so cruel? Why are you trying to push her away?”

His ears flattened again, “Tiyawn—”

“No!” She shook her head and backed away from his reach. “You humans and hiding your true feelings. I know you, Jake. I know what you said wasn’t true and yet you chose to hurt her anyway. Why? Why do this?”

Jake frowned, his body tensing, “How do you know this isn’t how I feel—”

“Baah!” Neytiri hissed, smacking his shoulder. “Even if what you said was true, you did not need to be cruel! You do not need to hurt her! Do you even care?!”

“Of course I do!” Jake argued. He wasn’t heartless. Of course, he saw how his words affected—continued to affect you.

God, why did you always react that way when it was him? Why did his heart always feel heavy whenever it came to yelling at you these days? You weren’t like this with Tsu’tey, you always fired back. Why was it different with him? “What I said was true. I am doing this for her! I’m trying to protect her—”

“From what?” Neytiri hissed as if the words he was saying were false. “No more excuses, Ma’ Jake, what is it that you are so afraid of?!”

How did she do it? How did she fiercely protect you like this without a care in the world? How did she fiercely care about you without being frightened of the consequences? “You weren’t there when Artsut threatened her life.” At this Neytiri faltered, her ears lowering slightly but Jake continued before she could interrupt her again, “She’s already being pulled into this mess with the clans. What happens if Artsut, a woman with great influence within this clan, comes for her? What happens when we take another human mate that she doesn’t approve of? What then? It’ll be our fault that Reeds becomes ruined. It’ll be our fault for not being careful—”

“That is not for us to decide,” Neytiri told him bluntly but her face softened—only a bit. “Your heart comes from a good place but your words are misguided.” She gingerly grew closer to him until her hand could reach the curve of his cheek as she gently caressed it. “Make this right. Enough of this fighting. Can’t you see she’s tired?”

Mo’at, who had been crushing some herbs in a bowl, did not refute her daughter’s wise words.

Jake was outnumbered. But he was also tired too.

You came back to Hell’s Gate to find a white sheet over your former body, right in the middle of a nearly empty room.

Cry. Just cry. Cry.

Instead, you stayed in that silent room. You did not look away from the body.

Half alive and half buried in the ground.

All you needed was a tombstone.

boom! chapter 9! this one chapter i was definitely nervous to write because we see jake and reeds at, in my opinion, their worst in their slowly developing relationship and a peek at the beginning of tsu'tey and reeds' future relationship.

hope you enjoyed it! chapter 10 should be coming soon!

(i'm not adding any more people anymore!)

taglist: @doggyteam2028 @bigbootahjudy @innercreationflower @n7cje @celi-xxmoon @readerofallthingss @sillyblues @saturnhas82moons @1mawh0re @aprosiacperson @loserwithnofriends @garfieldsladybird @slutforsmut4ever @lik0

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lovelybrooke · 15 days

Note

Can I request how Sliver, Idia, Kalim, Vil, and Malleus realises he loves Reader?

Totally, hope you liked this.

masterlist

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Silver

Silver couldn't help but dream.

He dreamt of adventures, of traveling the lands and discovering its magical wonders. He also has more boring dreams. Dreams of animals and warm sunlight. The smell of fresh cut grass and warm sweets.

But he's found himself dreaming of you often.

He drifts away to the memories of your voice, to the shape of your figure, to the remnant of your touch. He thinks he's going insane, the way his mind can't seem to think of anything other than you, even while asleep.

Somedays, he tries to stay awake, racking his mind on why you were so captivating. He'd come to different conclusions every time. Maybe it was your smile, the one he sees so often in these dreams. Maybe it was your kindness, something that seemed so crucial to your personality. Eventually, he'd fall asleep, and would be gifted with your presence again and again, not that he was complaining.

It was embarrassing, having to see your face afterwards, across the cafeteria. Watching as you mingled and laughed with your first year friends, he couldn't keep his eyes off of you, as you talked and ate. It was strange in a way, how the mundane became so interesting when it came to you.

He knew his feelings for you were less than normal, you were different, that's why he liked you. He liked being able to watch you, to learn about you from the background. He liked his dreams, because it gave him the chance to talk to you, to feel your skin, to leave the background and be in your presence.

But like most dreams, you eventually wake up, and he finds himself sitting behind you in class or watching you in the cafeteria, and he imagines what it would feel like to actually interact with you.

But, never acts.

Instead he dreams.

Idia

Idia is awkward, he's a loser. But at least he's aware.

He knows why he locks himself in his room for hours, or why he can't talk to people unless it's through a screen, or why he finds it difficult connecting with people. He's awkward and anxious and scared, but he's self aware, and that's more than most people at least.

He's self aware as he watches you through his camera, eyes almost unblinking as he observes. You fiddle with your hands a lot, he thinks you do it when you're nervous. You also will pet Grim when you don't know what to do with your hands, Grim doesn't seem to mind. Your bag is also too heavy for you since you switch which shoulder you carry it with a lot throughout the day.

He shouldn't find some gratification in watching you, he shouldn't look forward to seeing what you did throughout the day, but he does, and he knows that, that's why he's better than the others.

He knows he's a freak, but at least he doesn't sit on top of some moral high ground, acting like he's so much better than everyone else, like he's doing you a service by helping to keep you trapped here. He isn't like the others, jumping through hoops to justify their behavior. He knows he's strange.

But knowing isn't enough to stop him.

Knowing he's strange isn't enough to stop his behaviors, it isn't enough to stop him from keeping you whenever he could. Especially now, as he watches you in the library. You're doing homework, reading and scratching notes on paper silently. It's nice, and for a moment he can pretend like he's there with you. He's sitting across from you, existing in the same space as you. India doesn't know how to put it into words, but it's nice.

He knows it's wrong, he should feel bad about invading your privacy like this. But he's a coward, and this is the best he'll ever get.

Kalim

Kalim just thinks you're the greatest. You're so funny and kind and wonderful, he can't think of a single bad thing about you.

Except for the fact that you one day might leave.

Kalim thinks about that a lot, about you leaving him and never coming back. It happens most often whenever he's alone, so he does his best to stay with you, just so he knows you won't leave him. Maybe it's selfish of him to want to be around you constantly, but he can't help it. He hates the aching, queasy feeling he gets whenever you're away from him.

As music plays in the background, he watches as you converse with some random first year, he doesn't know their name, and he wonders if the aching feeling will ever go away. It seeps into him like a plague, tears at flesh and threatens to destroy him if he doesn't do something soon. Kalim didn't know he could feel as strongly as he did now, but as he crossed the room and dragged you away from the first year, he knew he didn't care.

He knew he would spend the rest of this party apologizing to you, hanging off your shoulders as he tried to stay as close as possible to you. He knew he'd promise you something extravagant, and gift you something ten times better in the morning. He knew he'd beg you to stay over at Scarabia for the night, that Jamil wanted to see you and that they could walk you to classes together tomorrow.

Kalim just thought you were great, that you were so easy to love. But being easy to love means other people felt just as strongly as he did. He knew that he wasn't as stupid as people though, that's why he has to keep you with him. If you were with him at all times, then you weren't trying to leave, and that's all Kalim could ask for.

Kalim just thinks you're the greatest, but you're even better when you're just with him.

Vil

Vil strives for perfection, for beauty. He's dedicated his entire life to being as perfect as possible, and while he's tried to be better at hyper fixating on his idea of perfection, it gets hard when it comes to you.

You're ordinary, extremely so, but for some reason that draws him to you. Your presence is comforting, soft and light, filling him with a warmth that he's come to crave, especially after his Overblot.

Vil strives for beauty, he seeks it out in everything he does. But you've taught him that beauty is everywhere, that you can appreciate the beauty in everything rather than change yourself to achieve beauty. He's come to love the world around him more, you included.

You are the beauty that Vil strives for, the perfection that he craves. There is something so wonderful underneath all that ordinary that Vil wishes to uncover. He wonders how much he missed out on before his Overblot, thinking back on the times he used to look at you in disgust. It shook him to his core, and if he could he'd spend the rest of his life atoning.

But instead he cares for you. He cradles your face softly as he applies your makeup. He hums softly as he styles your hair, brushing out of your face slightly. He takes your hand and lifts it slightly, latching bracelets onto your wrist that glimmer in the light.

As he admires you, he wonders if love is the correct word for what he is feeling right now. Does love drive everyone to madness? Does love make everyone so tunnel visioned that they can't think about anything else? Does love make everyone else feel so overwhelmed that you can't possibly imagine a life without this person?

Maybe love isn't the right world, Vil thinks as he watches you smile at him. Obsession seems more like it.

Malleus

Malleus spent most of his life alone before you.

He wouldn't exactly call his childhood lonely, he had Lilia and his grandmother to care for him, and for a while he thought that was enough.

That was until he met you.

Malleus believes meeting you that day outside of Ramshackle was the best thing to ever happen to him. He's never met someone so kind, someone brave enough to talk to him like you were equals. It humored him in a way, someone so courageous.

From that day on he couldn't stop thinking about you. His eyes would find yours in the hallways, and you'd smile and wave. It was strange how he'd feel his body warm up, but it wasn't out of fear or anger. It was a warmth that was nice and exciting.

He'd find you again outside of Ramshackle. Sometimes you talk for hours, other times you sit in silence and watch the stars. He was happy either way, getting to spend time with you. He didn't realize how much he craved companionship until now.

Malleus is sure he fell in love with you the day you first talked with him. Since then, you've been the only thing he could think about, the only thing he craves, he desires. He couldn't live without you.

Malleus loves you. He loves you completely with his whole being. He loves you like the stars love the sky, like the moon loves the sun. You are the only one who understands him, you can't leave him alone again.

He can't stand hearing you talk about going home, about that mirror. It fills him with dread, it makes him sick, he hates it.

You will not leave him.

He will not be alone.

---

#yandere x reader #soft yandere #platonic yandere #vil twst #twst malleus #twst x reader #yandere twst #twst #vil twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #yandere twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland

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elioslover · 9 months

Text

Masks On (Harry Styles x reader x smut).

Premise: Harry finally visits a sex club and what are the chances, you just so happen to be doing the same thing.

Word Count: 8k+ / Other Writing

Warnings: Smut from start to finish. P in V, Unprotected sex, literally all the sex things, just pure FILTH. Afab 2nd person (minimal OC description).

Also, shout-out to @justmeinatree for the encouragement and @caramello-styles for being such a sweetheart!

🍒

Harry feels the energy shift as soon as he steps out from the mass of thick, velvet curtain that worked to shield the utter filth that lay just beyond. The club- as referred to, looks more like a converted condo, with walls dyed with deep hues, ultraviolet lights instead of harsh bulbs, and purple and red bounce across the room- the floors, the ceilings.

Though the room is busy, everyone is scattered, and it feels spacious enough. Harry observes the array of beds and sofa’s instead of tables and chairs; people are going at it, moans mixing in with the deep bass emitted from nearby speakers.

Patrons- dressed in only bowties and Grecian inspired masks, carrying trays of beverages and sex toys with a formality that seemed foolish for a play like this. The pretty penny Harry had paid to be here was clearly being put to good use.

The entire thing screamed ‘filthy rich fun’, which, even for Harry, seemed almost awestriking; it was the type of elite secrecy one would never dream of, and if he had any doubt about joining this evening, it was erased the minute a waiter appeared before him, offering up a glass of whisky he wasn’t even sure he had ordered.

To be fair, after such an effort to simply enter this place, plenty of hoops to jump through and many questions to be answered and confirmed, it only made sense that the owners would ensure it was more than worth it.

Harry put the crystal to his lips, downing its contents in an anxious bid for comfortability. Instead, it burned at his chest and sent a long shiver down his spine; he shuddered, his skin sprinkled with goosebumps.

Ridding himself of his blazer, white tank top, leather loafers, and other personal belongings when he arrived, assured they would stay safe in his absence, Harry now stands in only a pair of black briefs. They cling to his thighs, pinching at the meaty expanse of his soft skin, diffing into and trapping a few of the hairs growing at the base of his pelvis.

But Harry could be fully nude for all he cares- the platinum, Phantom of the Opera mask that covers the top half of his face and stops at the bridge of his nose has him feeling invincible and fucking frisky. He feels like the god he impersonates, ready to delve into the mass of bodies stroking and loving on one another, his cock twitching against the restricting cotton as confirmation.

The beds are king-sized, holding space for at least four, and a few are evidently occupied by many more than that. Sheer material is draped across the ceilings like a canopy, creating a cosy and inviting atmosphere. Harry heads over to an empty velvet green chaise lounge, plopping down lazily, his legs spread out, thighs splayed, his one arm resting on the armchair, his other palm laying out across his lower stomach.

He turns his attention to the nearest bed, only a meter away, and begins watching as a throuple of two males and a female are switching positions. The girl lays on her stomach, flat against the bed, ass up, as the first man crawls up, spreads her ass cheeks apart and rubs his cock against her once before thrusting himself up into her. They reach a smooth rhythm, skin slapping as the second man lines up behind them, wrapping his arm around the torse of the first man; with a loud moan, the first man bucks forward, only moaning louder as the second man falls into position and starts fucking into him.

Harry hasn’t noticed the way his hand has lowered, palming himself through his briefs, his body shifting to get more comfortable. On the same bed, another couple goes at it, a woman vigorously bouncing atop the cock of a man donned in a lion mask.

In the midst of it all, bodies thrusting and shifting- you are resting sweetly, sitting atop your folded legs, disguised by a black, sequined silver mask, stopping above the nose, your eyes so sharp that Harry spots them immediately, hooked on the way the fluorescent lights flicker the reflection of filth he has succumbed to. His first thought is about who you are, his second is why you’re currently here, and the third is the only one that really matters; how the hell can he get his hands on you?

Dressed in only your underwear, you have had your gaze set on Harry from the moment the curtains had pulled back and revealed him in all of his glory. He was a mass of chocolate curls and tattoos decorating a chiselled and muscular figure that had you wishing you could get your hands on.

For a while, he had seemed nervous, and that only had your curiosity blowing through the roof, your body aching to wrap around any part of him up for grabs. As he made his way over, your heart was in your throat, attention completely thrown from the couple you had intended to participate with just moments prior. They were going at it regardless, bumping up against you, but your focus would be unwavering, your mouth watering at the view of his thighs, thick and spread out just for you.

He seems to be looking your way- maybe just observing the other couples, but something tells you by the way his body shifts, his eyes hidden but holding your own gaze, makes you feel like he might want you just as you want him.

A woman, her hair long and auburn, hidden behind a green dragon mask, drops onto the bed beside you, her knees softly hitting the mattress as she whispers suggestively into the shell of your ear. Cheeks flushed, your gaze remains on Harry, with the way he managed to stir such wanting in you, all by just sitting across the room.

His intrigue seems to pique, waiting to see what your plan was- were you going to entertain the woman next to you? Her cool fingers tickling their way up your spine, your body an eruption of goosebumps.

And you wish he would just come over or that you had the confidence to greet him yourself, but he seems comfortable and unwavering, leaving you to turn your attention back to something actually tangible; the woman currently pressing her lips to the nape of your neck.

Shifting your body to greet her own, you sit up on your knees and boldly wrap your hands like a chain around the back of her neck. She leans into your touch, anticipating your next move, a soft gasp escaping her lips as yours pressed on firmly, tongue licking into her own.

Your eyes have fluttered shut, your body soothed into the sultry kisses sucking at your bottom lip, but your thoughts wander over to the man on the couch, hoping to some god that he might be watching, that he might be regretting the choice to stay put.

Lips parting for deep inhalation, the woman’s hands are soft and static as they trail the soft mounds of your skin, and when your eyes finally open in the hopeful search of the man, you are more than surprised to find him much closer now, standing at the end of the bed.

His gaze is certainly set on your own, and you want to feel bashful at the circumstances, but the erotic stimulation happening all around you and the way Harry is looking at you hungrily, his muscles flexing involuntarily, only dampens your panties further, has your thighs clenching tighter.

He must notice because his pupils are blown, and he is crawling over now, slowly stalking out his prey, happily trapped in the arms of an auburn woman. He is more than welcome, though, your back pressing into the woman's chest, her lips still tickling at your throat, and when he comes to a halt at the base of your knees, you feel zero embarrassment as they part as a welcoming gift, offering him anything he desires.

“Well, hello pretty girl.” He greets, his cock throbbing as your chest raises and you take a sharp inhale, blinking at him in a way that has him feeling like a sinner- and he hasn’t even touched you yet.

“Hi handsome.” You respond, doing your best to keep your voice from cracking, almost completely distracted by the look of arousal in his eyes that seems to be increasing at just the sound of your voice, like a siren song only luring him further into the ocean in which you resided.

Harry can hardly stop himself from sighing out, from snatching you up and fucking you into submission, instead taking his time in luring you closer, his cock pleased at the ease with which you opened up for him, mind a mess of where to start.

He taps your thigh as an instruction, satisfaction shivering at his spine as you comply, spreading your legs, bum pressed flat to the mattress. Harry can't stop himself from wrapping his palms around your ankles, tugging you forward with enough force to have you exhaling a squeak, the woman’s grip tightening around your chest.

He looks at you like you are supper, his hands trailing their way up your calves, stroking slowly; as he reaches your thighs, he gives them a selfish squeeze, crawling his way over until he is almost face-to-face with the white lace of your panties.

His breath is cool as it fans over the heat of your lower abdomen, legs threatening to quake, and his grip only tightens, his stern stare never wavering, watching your every breath, the way your chest rises and falls in anticipation.

With the gentlest of kisses to your panty-clad crotch, you cannot withhold the deep sigh that slips past your lips, a keen whine whistling its way over to him, his stomach clenching, blood rushing to his cock. Harry’s tongue slips past his plump lips, licking a firm strip up your damp lace, his mouth watering in synch.

His left hand finds a firm home on your hip, helping to keep you pinned between the bed and his touch; his right-hand trails tauntingly along your sternum, fingers dancing into the dip of your belly button, playing your hipbones and pelvis like a harp before a sudden gush of coolness catches you off guard and his thumb hooking into the slit of your panties, tugging them aside in one firm go.

Your eyes widen with lust, unable to look anywhere but at the holy sight below you; the woman cradling your torso presses her lips wherever space omits, travelling in search of the mounds of your breasts, and your entirety is begging to turn to mush in the arms of pleasure as Harry leans forward and gives your pussy the gentlest of kisses, your eyes fluttering shut as he presses another, then another, his tongue joining in to lap at you, dipping into you.

He holds you in place with ease- where the hell would you rather be right now? And as the auburn woman latches her teeth around your pebbled nipple, your leg’s part even further- if possible- prompting Harry to release you from his prior grip, to hold you at the waist, his body pressed into the mattress, his cock flush and swollen from even the slightest of friction.

He can't stop from thrusting forward as a soft mewl slips past the gaps in your teeth, tongue pressing into you, gliding up your slit, flicking at your clit before his free hand cannot help but join the mix, massaging at your inner thigh, teasing at you as you buck your hips up in anticipation.

It's difficult to keep from sighing out in pleasure, but you try your best, harshly capturing your bottom lip between your teeth, tugging harder as Harry continues licking into you, flattening his tongue, flicking it against your clit, dipping into your entrance.

He has died and gone to heaven; his chin is coated in you, glistening under the neon lights, and with one hand still stroking and squeezing at your inner thigh, Harry uses the other to hook into the bands of your panties, hastily guiding them down the hills and valleys of your body and you assist, ass raising from the mattress, balancing on one leg as he slides the material along and off of your skin.

Discarded and dismissed, you are bare and spread for him, a sight Harry will be committing to memory, and he looks at you hungrily- you’re ready to be ravished.

Your pussy is practically dripping, and Harry’s hand must be possessed because it reaches out, and his finger glides through your slit, quickly dampening. The sigh you release is almost sinister, and Harry has his face buried between your thighs in an instant.

With his tongue licking at you, the almost forgotten auburn woman is still trailing kisses along your neck, her fingers tweaking and squeezing at the skin of your breasts. You are officially a mess of pleasure, ready to beg for more- anything- all of him.

It’s like he reads your mind as his fingers start to tease at your pussy, rubbing back and forth, his tongue focusing on your clit, swirling circles, his middle finger slipping past your entrance with such ease that Harry mutters, “fuck me” and lets it slide all the way in, curling upward. With such positive reception from yours truly, he keeps at it, all of his focus dedicated to pleasing you.

With the way his one finger becomes two, pumping into you with such vigour, you are writhing beneath him, thighs threatening to clamp around his head like earmuffs, blocked by his one hand keeping you put.

Your head starts to lull back into the auburn woman’s lap, but Harry is quick to correct this, pulling out his fingers completely, sticky and wet, his mouth changing from loving on you to scolding,

“Uh, uh.” He taunts, his brows furrowed, “Eyes on me, princess.”

You do everything in your power to comply, staring at him with all your might as he gets back to work, a satisfied smile still lingering on his lips as his tongue laps at your pussy, his fingers fucking back into you, curling, picking up the pace.

His fingers are in complete rhythm with his tongue- they are on a mission. And by the sounds currently escaping your lips, chest rising and falling needily, Harry is certainly succeeding.

But each moment that passes is becoming agonizing for him, desperate to substitute his fingers for his cock, currently aching to bury itself inside you.

Harry tries to pacify his cock by grinding up against the mattress, but this only has him moaning against your pussy, which in turn has you doing the same, your hands fisting the sheets.

He can no longer hold on, flattening his tongue to give you one last good licking before he removes his fingers and then himself, leaving you in absolute awe and confusion- a spark of panic flashing across your features.

Harry doesn’t want to startle you, but you can't stop the yelp that escapes you as his hands wrap around your ankles, and with one tug, you are before him, his face aligned with your torso.

He stands, holding out his hand to assist you in doing the same. You do, and once your feet are safely planted on the floor, Harry’s hands are kneading at your waist and hips. He permits you a moment to stabilise before his hands find the back of your thighs, and he hoists you up into your arms, legs wrapping around his waist.

Pussy bare and pressed against his torso, the five-step walk over to the sofa feels endless, so when he finally sits, safely cradling your back, you lower with him, coming to a rest atop his cool thighs, knowing he will be slick with wet by the time you’re finished with him.

Arms wrapped loosely across his shoulders, your fingers play with the loose curls at the base of his neck, and you lean, the outline of your mask bumping up against his own as you finally retrieve what you’ve been after all along, pressing your lips to his, tongue taking out all of your prior frustrations as it tangles with his own, scrapes along his teeth, traps and tugs his bottom lip until he is left begging for breath, lips plump and freshly-stung.

Going in for more, your palms find the sides of his face, sandwiching him between lustrous kisses, your chest pressing to his own, a whine bubbling at your throat when his grip tightens, holding you hostage and creating a gap just small enough for his hands to slip from their place on your back and to cup your breasts, squeezing and palming them as his tongue continues to lap at your own.

With the feeling of your nipples perking up so nicely beneath his thumbs, Harry cannot resist the urge to start trailing sloppy kisses along the nape of your neck, your clavicle, his open mouth leaving a trail as it makes its way down your chest, his tongue licking at the valley of your breasts before his lips finally catch your nipple, flicking at it, your body arching back desperately, pleading for more.

With a harsh nip, his tongue soothes your swollen skin, his hands squeezing at the mounds of your breasts, and your body has a mind of its own now, jutting up against him, your pussy sad to be met with only the friction of his briefs, desperate to grind your wetness across his cock, feel him slipping between your folds.

After the third time, your body glides down into contact with his own, a frustrated sigh slipping past your lips; Harry seems to catch on and woefully unlatches his mouth from your skin, but with more than just happiness, he shifts beneath you- and you also shift to allow him better access- his fingers hooking into the bands of his briefs, tugging them down in one swift motion to settle around his mid-thighs.

His cock springs up, swollen with relief and flush with freedom. Your gaze never wavers, hyper-focused on how pretty the man sitting beneath yours truly is- all of him is just too good to be true at this point.

You want to spend eternity, or at least a moment, marvelling and taking him all in, but he is closer than ever, and your pussy is clenching at just the sight of him- practically screeching to have him buried deep inside you.

With that, you reach out and give him one mandatory stroke, to soothe both him and yourself, and by the way his mouth parts, his eyes hooded, body jolting and then relaxing back into your touch, you sling your leg over his lap to straddle him, his face level with your chest, his hands instinctively coming to a rest on the pillows of your hips.

Your arms become a noodle around his neck like in preparation for dancing the salsa, your hips rocking forward without hesitation, pussy skating along the length of his shaft, leaving him slick with just one stroke.

Harry doesn’t even try to stop the string of mutters he sings out into the crevasse of your breasts, breath fanning chills all along your skin just as your hips buck again, sliding up against him, squeaking out as the tip of his cock rubs up against your clit.

You push on into an agonisingly slow rhythm, dragging out each stroke until Harry is so frustrated that he works extra hard to avoid rutting up into you- oddly satisfied letting you take the lead- so his mouth begins leaving sloppy kisses along your chest, your shoulders, the creases of your neck. And whilst the idea of holding onto this sense of control was something you really wanted to indulge in, you cannot stop your body from picking up speed, ever so slightly upping the rhythm.

Harry is struggling to keep himself from turning the two of you over and fucking you into the sofa cushions, taking out his agitation by unexpectedly spitting on your chest, and both of your gazes drop to watch as the dribble of spit travels like a delicate stream down the valley of your breasts, meandering towards your bellybutton.

You rut up against him with force now, pupils swelled and hungry. At the last minute, Harry commands his pelvis not to thrust, taking a section of skin on your breast between his front teeth, nipping and sucking at it until it stings, giving you one last tug before pulling back, his tongue slipping out to softly lap at the blooming bruise. Tiny and speckled with red and purple, this mark will serve as a reminder of the scandalous events of this evening.

More so, this mark is the last straw, your lips angrily finding his own, tongues arguing for domination- Harry’s succumbs the second one of your hands reaches down between your laps, grabbing at his cock and guiding him into you without a second thought.

You take him in with ease, but he is a stretch the further you slide down on him, your belly feeling full as your body finally comes to a sitting on his cock. Harry’s head has tilted back, his eyes fluttering open and shut.

He wants to thrust up, he wants to watch your breasts and body bounce about atop of his cock, needs to see the way your skin jiggles and stretches for him, the way your face crinkles up in pleasure and satisfaction… but Harry lets you do anything you want, lets himself be at your mercy.

And fuck, you make the idea of losing control feel really good, raising your body until only his tip remains inside of you, threatening to leave him out in the cold, but at the last moment, you grind back down, letting him fill you up gluttonously, easily finding a groove, your backside slapping against his thighs, skin-to-skin creating the beat of a drum, and with each smack, you only want to go faster, harder, unable to resist the need to tease and drag things out.

Harry is a mess of moans, only making you feel like you are being cheered on during a marathon, encouraging you to up your stamina and reach the finish line in record time. His hands are all over you, tugging you closer, one hand wrapping tighter around your waist, guiding you up and down his cock, desperate to hear you whine louder, to let others know how good it felt to be riding him. And you want everyone to know, too; you want them to know that they could all leave, and you would be more than happy to just let Harry spend the rest of the evening fucking you into a semi-permanent coma.

Harry shifts, spreading his legs to offer you a new angle, ready to drool as a dragged-out sigh slips out from deep within you, and he knows he’s just hit a good spot.

So, as any good boy would, Harry bucks up into you again and again, motivated by each moan, putting his all into making you sing for him, your hand digging into his biceps, then his back, down his torso, squeezing at his thighs as your stomach starts to clench, heart rate picking up and when you start to feel lightheaded, you welcome the wave of euphoria threatening to wash over- you hear nothing but the soft praises Harry mutters for your pleasure, your body grinding down on his pelvis desperately chasing your high, whining out as his hand spreads your cheeks, guiding you through a long-anticipated orgasm.

Coming down, your head slumps against his damp shoulder, cheek pressing into his warm, soft skin. You can hear his heartbeat; it’s as fast as your own- if not faster; his breaths are scattered, and Harry wonders what will happen next.

He wants to revel in the moment but is hit with disappointment as you slowly and carefully guide him out of you, and he wants to hiss out at the cruel loss of contact.

Your leg swings over and off of his lap, standing tall and gazing down at him with a curious brow furrow that has Harry ready to question his entire existence, but when your arm extends out to him, offering to wrap his hand in your own, Harry feels butterflies beating at his belly, and he accepts in an instant, ridding himself of his briefs, tossing them aside with little to no regard before grabbing your hand, feeling fuzzy at the visual of how small it looks cradled in his own.

Trailing behind you, willing to let you drag him just about anywhere, it seems you have targeted a bed sitting empty in a quaint corner of the room.

But your ass is bouncing with each step you take, and with gravity offering him such a gracious gift, Harry's hand reaches out with the need to grab, settling with a soft slap to your left cheek, a chuckle slipping past his lips as you let out a little whimper of surprise, body jolting forward, thighs jiggling for his absolute pleasure, and all thoughts of the bed are forgotten as Harry pushes your bodies into the nearest pillars. The look in your eyes adjusts from surprise to arousal at the newfound feeling of your body being backed up into the icy marble, turning into a tornado as Harry's simmering skin keeps you mounted like a shiny trophy.

Harry thinks he's really got you now, your skin so silky, your muscles contracting against his own, keening into his hold, lashes batting up at him like he holds the keys to the garden of Eden; with softness, he presses a breathy kiss to your own parted lips, and now that he has you so perfect and patient, he hasn't the faintest clue where to start.

It would be polite to give him a moment to gather his thoughts, perhaps plot his next move, but you know exactly what you want- no, need- next, and with Harry's head so preoccupied with the idea of you that his hold isn't strong enough to stop you from slipping out from his trap, turning around, your palms pressing flat to your chest as you gift him a gentle, but firm push, his back smacking into the same marble you had just escaped.

Harry feels awestruck, unsure what to think, but his cock is certainly pleased, throbbing at the unfamiliar shift in dynamic, desperate to see what you might do next. And when his eyes, swollen with lust, focus on your own, there is a glimmer of certainty that has him almost keeling over; the need to get on his knees and beg for you is killing him.

But it seems that you are the one who will be on your knees as you keep one palm against his chest, unsure of whether he's willing to stay put, and your body drops to the floor, knees happily greeting the tiles.

With your left hand still holding him in place and your right hand coming to a rest on his waist, fingers squeezing into his fleshy cheeks, Harry's head lulls black in bliss, throat bobbing, both of his hands casting a shadow over your own, wrapping around your wrists like pretty bracelets.

Leaning forward ever so sweetly, your lips pucker and place a polite kiss on the tip of his cock. Harry's hips buck forward without his consent, and your hand leaves his chest, gliding lazily down his torso until it comes to rest on his shaft.

Thoughts of how perfectly he fits between your fingers are blurring your vision, but at the sound of Harry pathetically hissing from above, your grip tightens, body shuffling closer, his own hand settling like a scarf around the back of your neck. His hand stays statuesque, unsure of pushing your boundaries and frightened of catching your hair in one of his many rings. But when you reassuringly nuzzle your crown into his palm, Harry finally relaxes, his fingers- still carefully- slip into and massage the hair at the base of your neck.

You’ve got him right where you want him, and there’s no time to waste as you close the last of any remaining space, bowing forward and closing in like at communion, mouth opening, ready for the catholic wafer but instead closing your lips over the tip of his cock, your tongue darting out to swirl at his head and loving the way he tries to resist bucking into you, stop himself from hitting the back of your throat.

Just the idea has you dripping, fulfilling the desire to take him further in your mouth, your free hand slowly pumping his cock, holding him in place as you suck him, slowly taking in as much as you can manage before slowly pulling back, letting your tongue trail along his shaft in your wake.

Right as Harry begins to fear that you might release and leave him high and dry, you swallow him again, bobbing and creating a rhythm, a small sliver of spit slipping past your lips as you take him as far as your mouth will permit, tongue lapping at him, your hand pumping the base of him as Harry huffs and puffs above you.

And when you can’t help but glance up at him from beneath hooded lashes, the way Harry cusses out and rolls his head back against the pillar is enough to have you picking up the pace, swallowing him with vigour, desperately trying to fit as much of him possible into the hollows of your cheeks.

Slowly, your head begins to bob, taking all of his cock in before pulling back, then again, and again, your hand still pumping him, spit gliding along his shaft and soaking your fingers.

You release his cock from your mouth, still gliding your hand back and forth, pumping him and peering up at him with doe-like eyes.

“Fuck.” Harry whines, the back of his head bumping against the pillar, “Y’gonna be the death of me, sweetheart.”

With a mischievous grin, you place a gentle but menacing kiss on the tip of his cock before flattening your tongue and licking his shaft from base to tip before taking all of him in your mouth once more, creating the perfect rhythm, your other hand leaving his thigh and cupping around his balls, massaging him, head grooving up and down his cock. Harry is a complete mess, his muscles flexing with each suck and release.

You guide his cock to the hollow of your left cheek, brushing him against your mouth before ever-so-softly gliding his head along your bottom teeth and rubbing him against your right cheek. He is still moaning above you, and when you suddenly tilt forward and take him so deep that his cock brushes the back of your throat, Harry is cussing out, his hand tightening around the base of your neck.

You lean your head back into his palm as a form of encouragement, and Harry thinks you may be the most perfect creature of planet Earth itself. He cautiously begins guiding your head, testing the waters as he becomes a guide for his cock, sliding into your mouth.

Happy to oblige, you try to remain as still as possible, your pussy throbbing each time he brushes against your throat, and when you almost gag, Harry has officially died and gone to heaven. His pace quickens, forcefully- but so carefully- bucking into you, loving how soft and plump your lips are, how well you take him- how deep.

The thought of his cum dripping down your chin has him in utter shambles, and that is not how he wants this evening to go- yet. So, with one last thrust and grunt, he ruefully removes himself, hissing at the rush of cool air that greets his tip and almost crying at the sight of the string of spit connecting from your lips and his cock.

Using the back of your hand to dismiss the spit, you peer up at him curiously, rather proud of your work but still hoping to have more of him.

Harry guides your head as a gesture, hissing at the rush of air that greets the tip of his cock, and this only causes his impulses to increase- so, as soon as you have found your feet and are looking up at him with blown-out pupils and puffy pink lips, Harry finally reclaims control, his hands wrapping you up and spinning you around in one swift motion and you are now facing the pillar, your palms pressing flat against the cool surface.

His hands find your hips, thumbs pressing into your fleshy skin and, on instinct, your back arches, ass desperate to press up against him. Harry releases his right hand from your hip, wrapping it around his stiff shaft and guiding it towards your entrance. Ass up, spine curved, your breasts press into the icy pillar, your body scooting up against the pelvis, and when the head of his cock glides along your pussy, just stopping short of your entrance, you moan out enthusiastically.

Harry gives you one last tease, his tip slipping into you before pulling back out, but before you have the opportunity to whine out, he thrusts into you, and instead, you arch out for him even more, sighing out, breasts squishing into the pillar.

He guides his cock in and out, painfully persevering, taking his damn time, but after a third deep and forceful thrust, you shuffle back into him impatiently, and Harry wants to chuckle aloud at your lack of patience now that he has you pressed up against him.

But your neediness is too tantalising to resist; Harry can’t stop his hips from bucking up into you, almost drooling at the hum of satisfaction you reward him with as he thrusts again, this time harder, his arm reaching around to rest his palm on your stomach, keeping you pinned as he proceeds to fuck into you.

Harry keeps going, huffing in sync with each thrust, his stomach clenching as you mewl against him, your palms pressing into the pillar and holding on for dear life. His hand slides down from your stomach to the back of your right thigh, raising it until your knee bumps up against the marble, and when he’s certain you plan on keeping it there, he releases your leg and proceeds to pound into you, his hand snaking around until it finds your pussy, fingers gliding along your wetness, seeking out louder moans, desperate whines.

And you are- unable to hold yourself back any longer, overcome with the electric current coursing through you with each thrust, each time his thumb brushes against your clit. You are chasing another orgasm, pushing your palms against the pillar in an attempt to get closer to him.

Harry kindly obliges, pressing his chest into your back, pulling you flush against his damp and flexed torso as he keeps at it, bucking up into you with all of his willpower, hands grabbing at you, adamant to have you as near as possible.

Right as you feel yourself about to tip over the edge for a second time in just minutes, Harry interrupts by pulling out and wrapping you up in his arms and hastily turning you around to face him. Concern flashes across his features as your back bumps up against the pillar, but when you only whine out, your left leg lifting up, calf wrapping around his waist, Harry guides his cock back into you, bucking up with commitment and determination to have you come unravelled against him once more.

And you are unravelling, chemistry at play as your body becomes a mix of ecstasy and euphoria. You are grabbing at every part of him, never wavering for too long, tugging at his hair, squeezing at his biceps, pressing your pelvis up against his own. Harry is doing the same, feeding off of your needy whines, unsaid pleas for him to keep going, and when you can’t help but turn them into verbal pleas, asking him so sweetly to fuck you “just like that”, he is in an absolute state,

“Yeah?” He confirms- only for the sake of hearing you speak up again,

“Yeah.” You stutter out, nails digging into the nape of his neck, scraping along his shoulder.

Harry is enamoured, you’re being such a good girl for him, and he wants to reward you for being so. But he also wants to be a little testy and has the urge to see how much nicer you’re willing to be for him, so he deems it necessary to hold out on you a tad longer.

He wraps his arm around the middle of your back, pressing you into him, and he bows his head and leans in as close to your ear as possible, his warm breath fanning over the nook of your neck and clavicle, ensuring you hear him loud and clear,

“Ask me nicely.”

Your head snaps up, looking at him with incredulity, but too desperate to do anything other than give him what he wants. One of your hands finds his torso, palms trailing along his chest as your other hand tightens around his neck in physical protest, which is the last thing that would ever slip past your lips. Trying your best to give him your politest plea, your mouth plump and puckered, mousey eyes flickering playfully up at him,

“Pretty please.”

And that’s all Harry needs, thrusting into you with repayment, revelling in the way your body accepts his reward so enthusiastically. He picks up the pace, pounding into you and making certain that you are more than welcome to come undone all over him,

“Such a good girl for me.”

You’re nodding at him desperately, body crumbling with each praise he is granting you, and when his palm slips down between your bodies, landing on your pussy and lazily swirling loops atop your clit, you are a shaking mess- in a frenzy and falling over the edge, coming all over his cock, softly chanting, “yes, yes.”

“So, so good.” He reminds you, holding onto you, keeping you secure and satisfied. He can feel the familiar stirring in his stomach, his cock twitching and tempted to come all over you.

But there’s no way he’s done with you, and he cannot fathom finishing now.

Your bucking has slowed, head lulling into the crook of his neck, trying to steady your breathing, and instead of giving in to an impending orgasm, Harry pats your bum firmly, wrapping an arm around your thigh, encouraging you to jump up into his arms.

He is still fully inside you and doesn’t plan on changing that, effortlessly guiding you up into his arms, one of his hands still on your backside, the other cradling your back. With great care, Harry starts to walk, staying slow and peering over his shoulder to make sure he’s going in the right direction.

Thankfully, the pillar was already the halfway point to the bed you had targeted earlier, and with your lips lazily trailing kisses along his torso, your nails digging into his back, Harry was overjoyed when his feet bumped into the base of the bed.

Impressively, he bows forward- your bodies still bound- his knees denting the mattress, lowering your bodies onto the bed until your back is pressed into the sheets and Harry is hovering over you, balancing on his forearms, his forehead brushing against your own.

“Ready to go again, princess?” His cool breath fans across your features, and you are nodding as if your life depends on it, your pelvis bucking up against him.

Harry’s brows furrow in amusement, his head bowing, lips brushing up against the shell of your ear, “Use your words, lovely.”

“Fuck.” You huff out, your right leg tightening around his waist, one of your hands digging into his bicep and the other tugs at his hair, “Please.” And just so he really gets the message, you add, “I want you.”

“Want me to what?” He drawls, tongue tickling your neck as one of his hands massages your breast.

“Fuck me.” Your reply is emotionless, stern and impatient, “Want you to fuck me.”

“Sassy little one, aren’t you?” Harry chuckles, squeezing your thigh endearingly.

You roll your eyes as if he hasn’t just stated the obvious, lifting your pelvis up to rub against him. His pupils are blown, and you want him inside of you- now.

“Are you gonna fuck me?” you ponder, nails dragging along his shoulder, “Or do I need to find someone else?” there is nobody alive that you could want more than him; he should know this from the way you are so eager to please him, but the mere suggestion has Harry thrusting into you mercilessly.

You whine out in both stupor and ecstasy, your back arching off of the bed, your breasts pressing into his chest. With one of his arms still holding him in place, Harry’s free hand comes up to cradle your face, your foreheads slick with sweat and sticking together.

His hands are about as big as your head, and that alone contributes to the next sigh you release, bucking up into him, meeting his thrusts in the middle, your pelvises slapping into one another.

Harry marvels at the way your bodies seem to so easily find a rhythm each time like you were made for him, and he for you. His thrusts are deep and with intention, stretching your pussy with satisfaction.

“Christ.” He huffs in astonishment, “Y’ feel so fuckin’ good.”

You can only moan out in agreement, at a complete loss for words. The only thing you feel is satisfaction sparking throughout your wholeness, and the only other thing you can think about is how badly you wish you knew his name- hoping to call it out to him as he pounds into you, desperate to reward him for doing such a good job.

Harry can't remember ever feeling so engaged in fucking someone- was there a time? Nothing before or after this moment matters; he could now die a happy man. You feel so warm and worked-up, pressed into him, grabbing at any part of him available for the taking.

He wants to let you, doesn’t mind if you spend hours or even days exploring him, poking and prodding his limbs and skin for reactions, having him like putty in your hands- all yours.

“More.” You huff out when it seems that Harry is getting caught up in his thoughts, and he thrusts into you so generously that your head lulls back to greet the mattress.

But now you are too far away for Harry’s liking; he needs to see those pretty eyes and pretty flushed cheeks, needs to see how good of a job he’s doing at pleasing you. His hand cradles the back of your neck, guiding your head back up, his lips waiting to latch onto your own.

Breathy kisses become open-mouthed ones. Harry’s tongue is dancing all along your mouth, biting on your lip and sucking on your tongue. Still, in a battle of kisses, Harry’s hand sweeps along your face and his pointer finger slips into your mouth. You suck on him like you were born solely for this purpose, and it’s Harry’s turn to stop his head from rolling back.

He keeps on at it, licking into your mouth while his cock rams into you relentlessly, each thrust accompanied by skin slapping, deep moans, hums of satisfaction and a stirring in your chest that only increases as Harry bends your leg and pins it to your chest, fucking into you from an angle that feels so good that you begin slipping away into a realm of pure pleasure.

“Like that?” Harry pants out, each thrust more purposeful than the last.

“Just like that.” You nod vigorously with gratefulness.

“Good girl.” He praises with a sloppy kiss, “Look so good like this.”

Harry keeps thrusting, and it’s not long before the look on your face starts morphing with frustrated delight, your eyes threatening to squeeze shut. But you don’t want to look away, instead glancing between your grooving bodies, in awe of the sight of his cock coated with all of you, pumping in and out so gracefully.

“Are you gonna be a good girl and cum for me?” He is kissing your neck, tongue wet and trailing along your skin.

And that is all you need to guide you back into another orgasm, your hips raised off of the bed and grinding up against his pelvis in a circular motion, hands holding onto him for dear life.

Harry groans, almost growls out, pushing into you, trying to pull you closer than physically possible, “Just like that, sweetheart.” You are definitely a sucker for his praises, desperate for more, and he obliges, “So good for me.”

With a surprising twist, Harry is forced to confront his impending orgasm as you pose a rather prolonged request, “Want you to cum for me.”

He wants to panic, the thought of this being over is simply heinous, but you only chuckle at the obvious distress beginning to warp his features and reassure him, “I still have plenty in store for you.” And for good measure, you add, “Unless you can’t… keep up.”

Harry knows you’re only taunting him for the fun of it, but the suggestion is obscene, and he seeks to prove you wrong. You are still grinding up against him, whimpering at the sensitivity, nevertheless needy for more, so he picks up the pace, ramming into you with everything he has to offer, his arm bending further into the bed to get closer, and your arms wrap around him to assist, tugging him flush against you, teeth nipping at his neck.

“Gonna let me swallow you, pretty boy?” You blink up at him innocently, “Wanna taste you so badly.”

His thrusts are getting sloppier, slower and more determined. Now that the offer of an orgasm is on the table, lying beneath him, so pretty and so tasty, Harry can’t resist pushing into you harder, deeper, grunting and huffing along, skin shivering at the feel of your nails tickling at his torso.

And when you tilt your head and aim your teeth for his ear, nipping his earlobe only to soothe it with the flick of your tongue, you ask one more time, “Pretty please.”

“Fuck. Fuck.” Is all Harry can muster in between a mess of moans, struggling to keep his weight from coming down on you, his free hand wrapping around your waist to hold you still, his cock wailing for release.

And he gets exactly what he’s been searching for, thrusting into you once more, treasuring it as he pulls out, stroking at his cock as the two of you shuffle around and you are quickly on your knees, mouth spread wide, tongue flat and pushing past your lips.

Harry doesn’t think he has ever seen something- someone- so beautiful, and he doesn’t stop thinking this as he starts to cum, spilling onto your tongue, his cock throbbing at the sight of you swallowing him so kindly, at the glistening of your swollen lips, the bobbing of your throat.

You wear your satisfaction with pride, and for the first time, you wonder if Harry actually can keep up. He hadn’t said so, in words, at least. But he is still close and starts edging closer, desperate to have his hands back on you. He gets what he wants, and you shuffle closer, following his gaze as it shifts to the nearest patron, using his free hand to gesture for their attention.

Before you get the chance to get too confused, the patron steps closer, and you can now clearly see the contents of his silver platter. Staring up at you is an array of toys, small and large, feathered or leather or even metal. You don’t even need to glance over at Harry to tell him you are definitely game, instead reaching out with an item already in mind.

Harry watches as you select your weapon of choice, turning back to him with satisfaction and a cheeky smile, the chosen toy on display is just begging to be played with, and it seems that both of you are ready to oblige.

🍒

Forgive me for I am a sinner and I feel zero regrets. Hell can have me because I am DONE. I hope you guys enjoy this one! It's been a while since I've blessed the children with smut and I hope I have succeeded lmao. - Emmy. xo 💞

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trungles · 4 months

Text

Cross-posting an essay I wrote for my Patreon since the post is free and open to the public.

Hello everyone! I hope you're relaxing as best you can this holiday season. I recently went to see Miyazaki's latest Ghibli movie, The Boy and the Heron, and I had some thoughts about it. If you're into art historical allusions and gently cranky opinions, please enjoy. I've attached a downloadable PDF in the Patreon post if you'd prefer to read it that way. Apologies for the formatting of the endnotes! Patreon's text posting does not allow for superscripts, which means all my notations are in awkward parentheses. Please note that this writing contains some mild spoilers for The Boy and the Heron.

Hayao Miyazaki’s 2023 feature animated film The Boy and the Heron reads as an extended meditation on grief and legacy. The Master of a grand tower seeks a descendant to carry on his maddening duty, balancing toy blocks of magical stone upon which the entire fabric of his little pocket of reality rests. The world’s foundations are frail and fleeting, and can pass away into the cold void of space should he neglect to maintain this task. The Master’s desire to pass the torch undergirds much of the film’s narrative.

(Isle of the Dead. Arnold Böcklin. 1880. Oil on Canvas. Kunstmuseum. Basel, Switzerland.)

Arnold Böcklin, a Swiss Symbolist(1) painter, was born on October 16 in 1827, the same year the Swiss Evangelical Reformed Church bought a plot of land in Florence from the Grand Duke of Tuscany, Leopold II, that had long been used for the burials of Protestants around Florence. It is colloquially known as The English Cemetery, so called because it was the resting place of many Anglophones and Protestants around Tuscany, and Böcklin frequented this cemetery—his workshop was adjacent and his infant daughter Maria was buried there. In 1880, he drew inspiration from the cemetery, a lone plot of Protestant land among a sea of Catholic graveyards, and began to paint what would be the first of six images entitled Isle of the Dead. An oil on canvas piece, it depicts a moody little island mausoleum crowned with a gently swaying grove of cypresses, a type of tree common in European cemeteries and some of which are referred to as arborvitae. A figure on a boat, presumably Charon, ferries a soul toward the island and away from the viewer.

(Photo of The English Cemetery in Florence. Samuli Lintula. 2006.)

The Isle of the Dead paintings varied slightly from version to version, with figures and names added and removed to suit the needs of the time or the commissioner. The painting was glowingly referenced and remained fairly popular throughout the late 19th and early 20th centuries. The painting used to be inescapable in much of European popular culture. Professor Okulicz-Kozaryn, a philologist (someone with a deep interest in the ways language and cultural canons evolve)(2) observed that the painting, like many other works in its time, was itself iterative and became widely reiterated and referenced among its contemporaries. It became something like Romantic kitsch in the eyes of modern art critics, overwrought and excessively Byronic. I imagine Miyazaki might also resent a work of that level of manufactured ubiquity, as Miyazaki famously held Disney animated films in contempt (3). Miyazaki’s films are popularly aspirational to young animators and cartoonists, but gestures at imitation typically fall well short, often reducing Miyazaki’s weighty films to kitschy images of saccharine vibes and a lazy indulgence in a sort of empty magical domestic coziness. Being trapped in a realm of rote sentiment by an uncritical, unthoughtful viewership is its own Isle of Death.

(Still from The Boy and the Heron, 2023. Studio Ghibli.)

The Boy and the Heron follows a familiar narrative arc to many of Miyazaki’s other films: a child must journey through a magical and quietly menacing world in order to rescue their loved ones. This arc is an echo of Satsuki’s journey to find Mei in My Neighbor Totoro (1988) and Chihiro’s journey to rescue her parents Spirited Away (2001). To better understand Miyazaki’s fixation with this particular character journey, it can be instructive to watch Lev Atamanov’s 1957 animated film, The Snow Queen (4)(5), a beautifully realized take on Hans Christian Andersen’s 1844 children’s story (6)(7). Mahito’s journey continues in this tradition, as the boy travels into a painted world to rescue his new stepmother from a mysterious tower.

Throughout the film, Miyazaki visually references Isle of the Dead. Transported to a surreal world, Mahito initially awakens on a little green island with a gated mausoleum crowned with cypress trees. He is accosted by hungry pelicans before being rescued by a fisherwoman named Kiriko. After a day of catching and gutting fish, Mahito wakes up under the fisherwoman’s dining table, surrounded by kokeshi—little wooden dolls—in the shapes of the old women who run Mahito’s family’s rural household. Mahito is told they must not be touched, as the kokeshi are wards set up for his protection. There is a popular urban legend associated with the kokeshi wherein they act as stand-ins for victims of infanticide, though there seems to be very little available writing to support this legend. Still, it’s a neat little trick that Miyazaki pulls, placing a stray reference to a local legend of unverifiable provenance that persists in the popular imagination, like the effect of fairy stories passed on through oral retellings, continually remolded each new iteration.

(Still from The Boy and the Heron, 2023. Studio Ghibli.)

Kiriko’s job in this strange landscape is to catch fish to nourish unborn spirits, the adorable floating warawara, before they can attempt to ascend on a journey into the world of the living. Their journey is thwarted by flocks of supernatural pelicans, who swarm the warawara and devour them. This seems to nod to the association of pelicans with death in mythologies around the world, especially in relationship to children (8). Miyazaki’s pelicans contemplate the passing of their generations as each successive generation seems to regress, their capacity to fulfill their roles steadily diminishing.

(Still from The Boy and the Heron, 2023. Studio Ghibli.)

As Mahito’s adventure continues, we find the landscapes changing away from Böcklin’s Isle of the Dead into more familiar Ghibli territories as we start to see spaces inspired by one of Studio Ghibli’s aesthetic mainstays, Naohisa Inoue and his explorations of the fantasy realms of Iblard. He might be most familiar to Ghibli enthusiasts as the background artists for the more fantastical elements of Whisper of the Heart (1995).

(Naohisa Inoue, for Iblard Jikan, 2007. Studio Ghibli.)

By the time we arrive at the climax of The Boy and the Heron, the fantasy island environment starts to resemble English takes on Italian gardens, the likes of which captivated illustrators and commercial artists of the early 20th century such as Maxfield Parrish. This appears to be a return to one of Böcklin’s later paintings, The Island of Life (1888), a somewhat tongue-in-cheek reaction to the overwhelming presence of Isle of the Dead in his life and career. The Island of Life depicts a little spot of land amid an ocean very like the one on which Isle of the Dead’s somber mausoleum is depicted, except this time the figures are lively and engaged with each other, the vegetation lush and colorful, replete with pink flowers and palm fronds.

(Island of Life. Arnold Böcklin. Oil on canvas. 1888. Kunstmuseum. Basel, Switzerland.)

In 2022, Russia’s State Hermitage Museum in Saint Petersburg acquired the sixth and final Isle of the Dead painting. In the last year of his life, Arnold Böcklin would paint this image in collaboration with his son Carlo Böcklin, himself an artist and an architect. Arnold Böcklin spent three years painting the same image three times over at the site of his infant daughter’s grave, trapped on the Isle of the Dead. By the time of his death in 1901 at age 74, Böcklin would be survived by only five of his fourteen children. That the final Isle of the Dead painting would be a collaboration between father and son seemed a little ironic considering Hayao Miyazaki’s reticence in passing on his own legacy. Like the old Master in The Boy and the Heron, Miyazaki finds himself with no true successors.

The Master of the Tower's beautiful islands of painted glass fade into nothing as Mahito, his only worthy descendant, departs to live his own life, fulfilling the thesis of Genzaburo Yoshino’s 1937 book How Do You Live?, published three years after Carlo Böcklin’s death. In evoking Yoshino and Böcklin’s works, Hayao Miyazaki’s The Boy and the Heron suggests that, like his character the Master, Miyazaki himself must make peace with the notion that he has no heirs to his legacy, and that those whom he wished to follow in his footsteps might be best served by finding their own paths.

(Isle of the Dead. Arnold and Carlo Böcklin. Oil on canvas. 1901. The State Hermitage Museum. Saint Petersburg, Russia.)

INFORMAL ENDNOTES

1 - Symbolists are sort of tough to nail down. They were started as a literary movement to 1 distinguish themselves from the Decadents, but their manifesto was so vague that critics and academics fight about it to this day. The long and the short of it is that the Symbolists made generous use of a lot of metaphorical imagery in their work. They borrow a lot of icons from antiquity, echo the moody aesthetics from the Romantics, maintained an emphasis on figurative imagery more so than the Surrealists, and were only slightly more technically married to the trappings of traditionalist academic painters than Modernists and Impressionists. They're extremely vibes-forward.

2 - Okulicz-Kozaryn, Radosław. Predilection of Modernism for Variations. Ciulionis' Serenity among Different Developments of the Theme of Toteninsel. ACTA Academiae Artium Vilnensis 59. 2010. The article is incredibly cranky and very funny to read in parts. Contains a lot of observations I found to be helpful in placing Isle of the Dead within its context.

3 - "From my perspective, even if they are lightweight in nature, the more popular and common films still must be filled with a purity of emotion. There are few barriers to entry into these films-they will invite anyone in but the barriers to exit must be high and purifying. Films must also not be produced out of idle nervousness or boredom, or be used to recognise, emphasise, or amplify vulgarity. And in that context, I must say that I hate Disney's works. The barrier to both the entry and exit of Disney films is too low and too wide. To me, they show nothing but contempt for the audience." from Miyazaki's own writing in his collection of essays, Starting Point, published in 2014 from VIZ Media.

4 - You can watch the movie here in its original Russian with English closed captions here.

5 If you want to learn more about the making of Atamanoy's The Snow Queen, Animation Obsessive wrote a neat little article about it. It's a good overview, though I have to gently disagree with some of its conclusions about the irony of Miyazaki hating Disney and loving Snow Queen, which draws inspiration from Bambi. Feature film animation as we know it hadonly been around a few decades by 1957, and I find it specious, particularly as a comic artistand author, to see someone conflating an entire form with the character of its content, especially in the relative infancy of the form. But that's just one hot take. The rest of the essay is lovely.

6 - Miyazaki loves this movie. He blurbed it in a Japanese re-release of it in 2007.

7 - Julia Alekseyeva interprets Princess Mononoke as an iteration of Atamanov's The Snow Queen, arguing that San, the wolf princess, is Miyazaki's homage to Atamanoy's little robber girl character.

8 - Hart, George. The Routledge Dictionary of Egyptian Gods And Goddesses. Routledge Dictionaries. Abingdon, United Kingdom: Routledge. 2005.

#hayao miyazaki #the boy and the heron #how do you live #arnold böcklin #carlo böcklin #symbolists #symbolism #animation #the snow queen #lev atamanov #naohisa inoue #the endnotes are very very informal aksjlsksakjd #sorry to actual essayists

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forgetminot · 1 year

Note

hi hi! I really loved your other fic, it made me all giddy <3

may i request reader who suddenly starts to distance themselves away from/avoiding (wandering off, offering to split up, less talkative - which is unlike them) Leon because of their growing feelings and they hope it fades away soon since they're on a mission. And then they get chained together like that one scene and Leon confronts reader about it since they can't escape him and reader plays dumb at first but Leon pulls them in (like he did Luis) and made them talk

FEEL FREE TO IGNORE THISS DHRDSER THIS HAS JUST BEEN ON MY MIND RECENTLY

Have a nice day!

Talk To Me

~ Leon Kennedy x gn reader ~

[ Warnings ; Guns, knives, blood, death (of an infected villager) violence, profanities, angst, angst and more angst, lil bit of fluff at the end. ]

A/N ; Thank you for the kind message! And to everyone else for the support on my first fic it actually made me sooo happy!! I hope you enjoy this request sorry if the violence is a bit too much i just wanted to add more to the story. ♡♡

----

Lil' overview: You have been trying your best to avoid Leon; Ignoring his questions and running off into danger. What happens when he confronts you about it and you have nowhere to go?

----

Gif belongs to @eurodynamic

You were acting differently; giving short blunt answers to all of Leon's questions, walking away as soon as he turned his back for a split second and putting yourself in unnecessary danger. Leon knew something was wrong, he just wasn't quite sure what yet. "Y/n" You ignore Leon, continuing to make your way to the small house in front of you that looked like it would collapse the second you turned the door handle. You hear Leon sigh deeply from behind you "Y/n" he repeats, this time you turn and just as you open your mouth about to reply with some short, smartass answer you hear a thud.

"Did you hear that?" You ask, your hand reaching for your gun holster. Leon nods doing the same. Thud. He steps in front of you opening the door slowly, aiming his gun forwards.

"Stay behind me." You enter the house behind Leon closing the door quietly, listening for the same sound again. Thud . Making your way through the house you follow the sound as you go, picking up any supplies that look like they could be useful. "Shh!" Leon points to the man hammering the ground in front of you and he approaches carefully, his knife tightly gripped in his hand as he sinks it into the man's neck and he falls to the ground suddenly - blood from the stab wound oozing onto the floor planks . Leon loots the dead man's corpse, taking the pesetas from the man's pockets, before removing the planks from the trap door that's in the floor to the left. "C'mon". He makes his way down the ladder, you following closely behind. Flicking on your flashlight you shine it around the dark and misty tunnel, there's nothing special down there apart from a few crates and barrels and a small green herb hidden behind a dusty old sheet, but as you move your flashlight to the end of the tunnel you see a bag, In the shape of a body and... its moving.

"You're not going to open that are you?" You whisper. Leon doesn't answer you, instead he takes his knife cutting the bag open; there's a man inside tied up with his mouth taped closed. Leon leans closer to the man and removes the tape from his mouth, quite harshly.

"That hurts you know" The stranger says, he sounds pretty relaxed, considering that he's tied up in a body bag at the end of a random basement tunnel.

"Seemed like you really wanted to talk" Leon replies bluntly.

"How observant, señor. Now. Say- you got a smoke?" You can't help but crack a small smile at the man.

"You know, those things can kill." You pipe up.

"Oh, well, maybe just untie me then." The stranger rolls forward, giving Leon room to release him. You watch carefully seeing the man's eyes widen and his face drop. "¡Joder! Not this guy." You and Leon both turn around swiftly, drawing your guns and pointing them at the huge individual that stands in front of you; it walks towards you, slapping your gun from your hand and throwing you across the room with force.

Darkness.

You wake to the rattling and clashing of chains above you, opening your eyes and squinting from the change of light. You pull down on the chains, hoping to loosen your restrained hands - You feel someone behind you and turn your head. "Leon?" You pull on the chains again. "Leon is that you?"

"Yes. It's me - Fuck, stop yanking on the chains." He groans. You both step back and turn around to face each other. Great, this is exactly what you wanted right now; to be chained to the one person you were trying to avoid. His eyes are scanning the room, looking for some way to break out of whatever contraption you were in.

"What happened to the other guy?" You look around the room and well, he's nowhere to be seen.

"No idea." Leon responds, glancing up at where the chain is connected to the roof.

"Do you think he's okay?"

"I don't know Y/n. Right now I'm more worried about getting us out of here." You roll your eyes, pulling your hands down causing Leon to trip forward; you bite back a laugh smiling at Leon.

"Every time I move, you move?" You ask. Leon raises his eyebrow and yanks hard on the chain forcing you to stumble towards him.

"What the fuck?" You glare up at him, holding your hands against his chest to steady yourself.

"Talk to me."

"What? About what?" You're trying to act oblivious and Leon knows it, he's not dumb.

"You know exactly what I'm talking about." You try to step back, away from Leon but he's holding you in place. "Talk." He repeats.

"This really isn't the time to be having a one to one Leon!" He stays quiet, looking down at you, waiting for a response.

"I can't." You respond softly. Leon loosens the chain, letting you step back and you do. "I- I thought maybe if i tried to ignore it, it would go away."

"Ignore what?"

You laugh gently, refusing to make eye contact with the man ahead of you. "That I like you - as more than friends, more than co-workers."

"You thought ignoring me and putting yourself in danger would - what, be a distraction? " You tilt your head up to look at Leon nodding softly. "You're such an idiot." He mumbles.

"Wow, thanks!" You retort. "What a great way to respond to my confession." Leon grins, yanking hard on the chain again but this time he steadies you. "What are you doing?" You question shyly. He stares at you, his eyes looking at every small, minor detail on your face.

"Just go with it." He whispers, placing his lips softly against yours. "Such an idiot." He repeats smiling into the kiss.

----

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maopll · 1 year

Note

Can I request headcanons of Dottore, Pantalone, Baizhu, Tighnari, and Albedo with a toxicologist s/o?

Dottore and her are a match made in heaven or hell.

The sweetest poison <3

| genshin impact !

⌗:, a/n: the title kinda sounds wrong but I couldn't think of anything else. and the fact that there's so many similar requests I got like are y'all the same person or smth ??

⌗:, warning: mentions of poison,,blood 'n stuff

⌗:, pairings: dottore, tighnari, pantalone, albedo, baizhu, & childe w/ gn!reader

DOTTORE

He was on his way to your lab to ask for a few ingredients that only you have special access to. It was a Sunday evening. The sun is almost settling down for the day and the moon is still evident on the sky. he knocked on your door and your fading voice telling "come in" was his cue to get in.

He saw you tending to a few fly traps and some deadly nightshade. "I want to get a few ingredients from you that are on this list" he told you to which you replied "just grab them from the shelf you know where they are". You and him have spent so much time together in each of your labs that he knows where every ingredient is. He grabbed a few and looked at a vial on the wooden lab table. "are you done with the experiment that you were working on?"

"no its still left, but it will be finished within thus week or the week after. I need more lab rats to test that on. the results are that satisfactory so I'll have to observe more". If there had to be anything in common between you two is that one both of you are always occupied with experiments and two torture.

To others your conversation may sound like that of a colleague with colleague but dottore barely held this gentle tone with others. Only with you would his more cruel and crude nature would slip away. Others may find it weird how the most fearsome person on the plant is talking so naturally with you but you know, its his way of telling you that he loves you just as much as you do.

ALBEDO

He asks for many plant species and specimens from you. You spent years studying in the academiya and truly were the knowledge you accumulated were like treasure. The knights of favonius gave you your own permit of being able to handle and use poisonous plants. Ofcourse your research was worthwhile as you found many medicines for untreatable diseases.

If he ever comes across a peculiar plant he just goes to you. he knows how well you know the plants around you. you are usually stuck up in your lab but even you worry about albedo encountering a poisonous plant by accident as one time he brought one you burnt that away as your eyes were wide like flying saucers. Atleast ge didn't affect...

"[name] would you look at this? I found a few different flowers when I was in inazuma. I haven't seen them everywhere. Maybe you know something about them?" and yes you did know. You told him a great deal about its origin, its structure, its uses and location.

There comes many a moments when you two share your insightful knowledge with eachother. It started the day when you two were dating first and you two realised that both of you love alchemy and the mysteries shrouding it. These are some times you cherish the most as he hears every detail you spell with his head resting on his hand and the other scribbling points to remember. "hm? why are you smiling? is there something on my face love?..."

it's the beauty on his face that you are looking at.

PANTALONE

He was a banker and you were a toxicologist. You two falling in love was pure coincidence and...true love as he would term it. He often finds you pulling out some purple stuff from your hands. Those were poison. He knew after you told him about it and he froze there on the spot. He thought you would die the next moment. You tried so hard to reassure him saying that it happens and you wouldn't die. He is afraid to lose someone dear to him once again in his life...

He always checks on you to see if you are not hurt or in any kind of pain. After checking that you are alright and tending to your plants in your greenhouse he would return back to his office as he would hold a small photo of yours with you concentrating on a potted toxic plant as butterflies, probably wild and dangerous, also swarming around your hair. He loves staring at that picture of yours. You tending so gently to the plant. Whenever he would remind those days when you two were still young lovers and inexperienced.

It feels as if it was yesterday when you two finally had your first kiss and were smiling brightly with faces blushed turning into the hue of a tomato.

Even if he is a fatui and ruthless man, he still has a soft spot for you and only you.

TIGHNARI

Injured, poisoned, senseless, unconscious, and many patients flock into the forest watchers' treatment room. Tighnari is busy throughout the day. Teaching young forest rangers and treating patients. There is never a free time in the young man's hands, but with the coming of you, things have been even easier to handle and treatments can be done even faster as you would give swift and simple orders to people to follow to treat the patients.

The vaccines you created after countless trial and errors with combined hardwork always paid off. Your medicines are sold everywhere. It was tighnari who recommended your medicines to the amurta darshan and bimarstan to use them. Many were hesitant as they were made from poisonous plants but...After trying out it worked wonders! no side effects were there

Every Sunday evening is when you two would tend to your own plants. Him watering the plants as you sowed a few seeds or fertilised them with your dendro vision. It almost feels as if you two are married and leading a domestic life tending to your plant children. At nights is when the both of your are wrapped up jn eachothers arms under the moonlight as the stars gaze upon your young love. Its a peaceful silence shared between you two as you two drift away to sleep to the lulls of the chirping crickets and the buzzing of the fireflies.

CHILDE

He returns with scars all around his body and had it not been your extraordinary medicines there would have been plenty of infections all over his body. Even if you try to act angry at him deep down both you and him know how worried you are. Every time he reminds himself to not get hurt to the point of being the reason for your worries.

Whenever he would get time on his hands he would join you on your experiments as he would look at you with awe as you swiftly handled vials and scribbled down notes for future reference. Thousands no, maybe even more toxic plants were there than that meets the eye.

You forbade him from touching anything since you do not trust him with such complex substances and liquids and poisonous plants. "oh come on...you're no fun! nothing would happen if I touch just ONE plan—" and there he goes, with a *thump* and falling on his back. Good now he just increased your workload.

After he woke up you gave him a full one hour lecture after he did that and he swears to never touch your plants again.

But he would never miss a free trip to your greenhouse. The variety of plants and the sweet smell emanating from them was mind blowing. He loved seeing you work skillfully with the most dangerous poison as if they were water. He can't hide that stupid blush that spreads across his fair cheeks as he always remembers 'my soulmate is so strong' with a cheeky grin plastered on his face

"what are you smiling for ajax ?"

BAIZHU

"qiqi my dear, would you please call [name] for me, hm?". Qiqi tip toed her way towards your laboratory and softly knocked on your door since it was already midnight. All the houses had blowed out their lanterns and retired to bed for the night except a certain pharmacist and a toxicologist.

You understood why he may have called you so after thanking the little qiqi you walked your way towards your lovers study. The soft pulsating light could be seen from the end of the hallway of your shared abode. He was there writing some prescriptions for the patients who came the other day along with a few medical documents. Looks like he might have to pull an all-nighter to complete those.

"dear can you get me some herbal tea to wake myself up? I need to finish these since the patients will be coming tomorrow"

You brought him some herbal tea, which you prepared from freshly picked flowers from your greenhouse. "Mh...as delicious as always." his tone soft and low to not wake changsheng up who was deep into slumber. You were there with him in his room helping him with some prescriptions since you were also quite well aware of the plants that are toxic and which are not. With your help, only a few of those were left and he might be able to get a blink of sleep that day. He chuckled softly as the sound of his laughter soon died down and the ticking of the clock once again begun.

Throughout the night no words were spoken between the two lovers as they completed their paperworks under the soft illumination provided by the halfway melted candle and the crackling of the flame. The moon went for its own slumber as dawn freshened

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tooearlyforthis · 10 months

Note

Hi again! Alright I'm a sucker for the au where they have the first words the other is going to say to them tattooed somewhere I think it's mostly on the wrist or the one where they have a matching tattoo so if you could write one with either of those that would be awesome <3

Inked Destinies | Steve Harrington

Pairing: Steve Harrington x soulmate!Reader

Word Count: 6.7k

Synopsis: Y/n doesn't think she'll ever find her soulmate. But what she does have, is a new friend - Steve Harrington.

Warnings: post S2 through S3 fluff, soulmate AU!, Russian torture scene

Hey! I went with the matching tattoo one, hope you like it! Also to note: an asterium is an observed pattern of grouped stars. It’s a little different than a constellation which is an official group of stars so…it’s relevant to the story I promise.

Click here to see my masterlist

The last person in the world Y/n L/n expected to be friends with was Steve Harrington. But here she was meeting him for lunch.

With her headphones on, music blasting, she tried to think back to a time before they were friends - before he had decided to attach himself to her like a lost puppy. They had only really known each other for a few months but it felt like he had been there the whole time.

As she rounded a corner, almost at their meeting location, she spotted him. Well, not just him. Y/n straightened her back, her hands clenching as she watched Billy Hargrove and Tommy Hagan inching closer to her new friend.

She didn’t know much about their falling out but she knew it had to do with his ex-girlfriend and his sudden personality shift. King Steve was no more; the new kid Billy soon taking his place.

As she walked closer to them she could more clearly hear what they were saying.

“Come on, Harrington, don’t be a wimp,” Billy said, crossing his arms.

Tommy rested his forearm on Billy’s shoulder and said, “Yeah don’t be a pussy, Steve.”

She watched Steve scoffed, wanting to turn around and leave. As he went to do so, his back thudded against a row of lockers, leaving him trapped.

“Trying to run?”

“Come on, man,” Steve said, trying to push them away softly. “Just because I don’t run with you guys any more doesn’t mean you gotta be mean.”

Billy and Tommy burst out laughing, clutching their chests to steady themselves. “A wimp and emotional,” Billy teased. “Are you sure you’re not a girl? No wonder you haven’t found your soulmate.”

Y/n couldn’t take any more of their antics. With one deep breath, taking off her headset, she approached the group. Steve’s eyes softened when they saw her.

“Thought you were gonna ditch me Harrington,” she announced, holding out her hand. “You coming?”

He looked back and forth between her and the two bullies in front of him. A small grin forming on his face.

“Excuse me boys,” he said, taking her hand. “But the lady needs me.” With a wink, he let her pull him away from the huddle.

Both of them couldn’t stop laughing, hands still entwined and they walked through the halls to their usual lunch spot.

Once far enough of away she let go of his hand, missing the warmth it brought her. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he replied quickly. “I’ve endured worse than Hargrove’s petty games.”

“Good, cause I didn’t know how I was gonna me you feel better.”

“Just being you is enough.”

Y/n paused in front of the door to the theater with an upturned face. She knew what he meant. Just being in each others presence, no judgment or effort to be presentable. It was a comfortable space where they good just be themselves.

Pushing the door open, they were quick to find their way to the same spot they always went to. Right in the center of the stage. It was empty, like it usually was during this time of day. In fact, it was probably the only time there weren’t theater kids running around.

It was the perfect spot. Plenty of sitting room, lights still on illuminating the stage. Nothing but silence.

She had discovered it one day after class. Walking randomly into different rooms in an effort to discover more of her high school before graduation. There was no one in sight but a small figure on the stage, their back facing her. They turned at the slam of the auditorium doors.

It was Steve Harrington. Eating his lunch alone.

She knew who he was of course. Spending four school years together and more recently, assigned partners on a project for their government class.

At first, it seemed odd that he was alone. He was usually being followed by girls or his douchebag best friend. Sauntering through the halls like he owned them.

But that was before his fall from grace. Before Nancy Wheeler walked into school after Thanksgiving break holding hands with her soulmate, Jonathan Byers. Now, it wasn’t unusual to see Steve alone. To no longer be considered a king by their classmates.

He froze when he saw her and for a moment they just stared at each other. It was clear he was nervous, not knowing how she would react as he played with the edge of his food wrapper. But without any judgment, she climbed up on the stage next to him and began to eat her lunch.

They became fast friends after that.

🎬🎬🎬

Setting her bag down Y/n fished in her backpack for her food. She used to go off campus a lot more for lunches but ever since she became actual friends with Steve, she found herself staying most days.

“What’s on the menu for you today?” she asked him, pulling a turkey sandwich out.

“Uh just left over pizza,” he replied softly, unraveling the tinfoil-covered food.

“Left overs? What no steak? No sushi from some expensive place across town?”

It was half a joke but half being serious. She had been to one or two parties that happened to be at the Harrington house. To say it was fancy was an understatement.

Steve chuckled before taking a bite. “No uh, I didn’t have time to go grocery shopping this week so…” he held up his slice of pizza. “leftovers.”

Tilting her head, Y/n asked, “Grocery shopping? Why are you the one grocery shopping?”

He took another bite, choosing to speak with his mouth full. “My parents are out of town this month so, grocery shopping is up to me.”

“Huh…” she didn’t know what to say. Sorry your parents are absent? Does the house feel empty? She knew he hadn’t thrown a party in some time.

Thankfully he seemed unbothered, moving the conversation along. “So… I have a kind of weird question? I don’t know if you could call it that…”

“What is it?”

Readjusting his position, he angled himself toward her more. “Why do you hang out with me? I mean, why are we friends?”

“What do you mean?” She asked confused.

“That project we did in gov. is over. You don’t have to hang out with me anymore.”

She took a moment to take in what he was saying. “Did you really think I only hung out with you cause we were working in a project?”

He shrugged. “Everyone seems to be bullshit nowadays I just figured you wanted the assignment done faster-“

“-Steve,” she interrupted, willing him to look at her. She continued when his eyes fell on hers. “You’re a nice guy. Why wouldn’t I want to hang out with you?”

“I was a douche bag.”

She couldn’t help but chuckle slightly. “That was then. I don’t know what happened but, I like the new you.”

Steve look down at the pizza in his lap, his eyes squinting with delight. “Th- uh, thanks I like the new me too.” Smiling Y/n returned to her food as he continued. “So since we’re friends and all and I have the house to myself, would you maybe wanna hang out sometime? Outside of school.”

She looked back up at him, her heart warm. He seemed so flustered, fidgeting with his fingers. So nervous to make a new friend. It was unlike how she had ever seen him act before. Slowly she nodded.

“Yeah, that sounds like fun.”

“Cool, yeah, uh, cool,” he stuttered out. Trying, but failing, to focus back on his pizza.

How could this man not have found his soulmate yet? Someone who shared the same mark as him? Y/n wondered what his could be, who out there could be linked to him. But it wasn’t something people just showed each other every day. You had to build up trust with them, form a relationship so in touch with one another you could be that vulnerable. It was like opening a part of yourself to them, regardless if you ended up being a match or not.

She hoped he would find his soulmate one day. The same way she hoped to find someone with a matching asterium to the one etched onto her hip.

He was too kind to be alone.

🎬🎬🎬

Summer was right upon them and it was already too hot. The humid air somehow seeped through the closed window as it shined light into the room. Steve’s sheets were warm underneath Y/n as she laid next to him.

She pried her eyes off her book for a moment turning to look at has face. It was upside down, both of them lying on opposite sides of the bed as their faces met in the middle. He absentmindedly stared at the ceiling as he tossed a ball toward it.

“How do people know what they want to do with their lives right out of high school?” He asked, continuing to throw the ball.

Y/n turned back to her book, realizing she had been staring. “I don’t know. Some people just do I guess.”

“What am I even gonna do? I didn’t get into college, my parents are gonna cut me off any day now…I’m just stuck in this town.”

“You’re smart, I’m sure you’ll be fine,” she responded, turning a page of her book. It wasn’t until the thumping of his ball stopped that she knew he was looking at her.

“Do you even remember that gov project?” He asked, making her giggle. “I don’t know where you were but if I remember correctly, it involved a lot of me writing stuff down and you correcting my work.”

“There are other ways to be smart beside academics.”

Flipping over to his stomach, he asked. “How?”

“Well,” she began. Setting down her book, she then flipped over to match his posture. “You’re street smart. Always know where we are and never need a map.”

“Okay,” he said drawn out. He shuffled on the bed closer to her. “But a lot of people can do that.”

“You know how to read people too. That’s really rare. Some people never know what others are thinking.” She watched as his eyes roamed her face, flickering down to her mouth for just a second. Her breath hitched. “You are really good a perceiving what people want.”

“I am?” He asked, he face inching toward her.

Y/n felt herself entranced by him, her body wanting to move toward him. “Yeah, you are.”

Up close, she never realized how beautiful he was. His long eye lashes, the freckles that were splashed across his face. The way he stared at her like there was no one else in the world. She wanted to lean forward and kiss him, but the sound of thumping pulled her away.

From across the room, the door bursted open to reveal a young boy. He was wearing a hat and a t-shirt with a science pun on it that she didn’t understand. It was clear Steve knew who it was, sighing the second he spotted the boy.

“You don’t answer your front door,” the boy said. Groaning, Steve let his head drop. “I didn’t know you were with your soulmate okay!”

“She’s not my-“ stopping himself from arguing, he stood up and ushered the boy into the hallway. “How did you get inside?”

The boy shrugged, “You gave me a key.”

“Dustin!”

“What? You gave me a key am I not supposed to use it?”

“You know it’s only for code reds,” Steve tried to mutter under his breath but failed miserably.

Code red? What was a code red?

“Just go okay? Walkie first next time, okay?”

“But, Steve, I got into Camp-“

“-Uh uh uh. Walkie first!”

“Yes, mom.”

Y/n watched as Dustin ran down the hallway, followed by the sound of shoes thumping against the stair case. “You know I don’t like it when you little shits call me that!”

There was no answer, the door slamming in place of a response. Sighing, Steve laid back down on the bed, grabbing the ball and throwing it up in the air.

Moment over, Y/n guessed.

Lying back down, she picked up her book. “You have walkie talkies with a little boy?”

“Yes… and he’s not little. He’s like gonna be a high schooler next year.”

“Sounds little to me.”

“…yeah, I know. Sorry for the interruption I think he’s just excited about getting into Camp…nothing. Something like that.”

“Camp Know Where?” she corrected.

“Yeah that’s it.”

“He’ll have fun. I had my first kiss at that camp,” she told him, nonchalantly flipping the page of her book.

Steve was more surprised, whipping his head toward her so fast he almost dropped the ball on his face. “You did?” he asked. Y/n nodded. “So… uh where’s your soulmate now?”

She closed her book. “My soulmate? He wasn’t my soulmate.”

“But you kissed him anyways.”

“And you dated Nancy anyways,” she retorted. He raised his eyebrows at the mention of his ex. “Unless you two are soulmates and you’ve been letting her prance around with Byers at school.”

Looking back at the ceiling, he resumed throwing his ball. “No, we’re not soulmates. Sorry for assuming.”

“It’s okay, Steve.”

🎬🎬🎬

It was officially summer and Y/n could not be any happier. She finally graduated high school and was already set up to go to the University of Chicago in the fall, though Steve didn’t need to know that last part.

What mattered is that he got the job he applied to in the new mall’s ice cream shop and was set to start in two weeks. To most, it was just another step of life but for him, it was everything.

The first taste of adulthood, of doing something for himself rather than to get his father’s approval. So that’s why they were on their way to Lover’s Lake. When Steve found out that Y/n had never gone swimming there before, he knew that’s where he wanted to celebrate his new job.

So on a hot Thursday afternoon, they packed up his car with swimming gear, turned on the radio, and were off.

“Are you sure we’re allowed to swim in the lake?” Y/n asked, watching trees through the passenger side window.

“Oh yeah, I’ve done it loads of times,” he responded. “Trust me you’ll have a blast.”

“I don’t know, Steve…”

“Come on, don’t chicken out on me now!” As they turned a corner, nearing their destination, a new song began to play on the radio. “Oh I love this song!”

Reaching forward, Steve bumped up the volume. It blasted through the car, making the speakers rattle. But Steve didn’t care, he began singing to his hearts content, using his one free hand to make waves out the window.

“Oh my god, you’re embarrassing!” Y/n shouted over the music.

“Live a little!” He formed a fist with his hand, holding it up to mimic a microphone as he sang louder.

She laughed as he did so, enjoying the scene he was making. Looking over at the sound of her giggles, he held out his microphone-like hand to her. With a raised eyebrow he encouraged her to sing as well.

There was a moment where they locked eyes before he pulled away to look back at the road. A split moment where she felt the happiest she felt in a long time.

With one big breath she began to sing.

It was like endorphins flooded her brain, every worry she had, telling Steve she would be moving to Chicago, the dread of finding her soulmate, it all left. And even when they came to a stop, the stereo turning off with the car, that worry was still left behind.

The two teens ran toward the dock, taking in the soft waves of the lake. The sun was out strong, birds chirping in the trees. It was the perfect day for a swim.

Steve dropped their prepared bag of the dock, wasting no time to pull his shirt over his head. Y/n followed quickly, taking off her shirt to reveal a one-piece she had bought the previous week.

She looked back up at Steve who was frozen, his hands still gripping his shedded shirt. She could tell he was trying not to eye her, to make her feel like an object as she undressed in front of him. If she was being honest with herself, she was trying not to do the same.

She always been curious what he was like under the ample amount of striped polos he owned. If not to see he was just as beautiful as his face, but to catch a glimpse of his soulmate mark. It took a lot of her to not be curious if the boy she had been spending more and more of her time with was her soulmate.

Every day it seemed that more and more people were finding theirs. Even last week, her friend Vickie found hers; some girl that was in the trumpet section of her high school band.

But as she finally let herself look down at his bare chest, there wasn’t a mark in site. She figured it was probably hidden, the same way hers was by her bathing suit.

With one final push, she shedded out of her shorts. Kicking them to the side, she instinctively wrapped her hands around her stomach. Steve was quick to comfort her.

He stepped toward her. “Hey don’t do that, okay? I like you just the way you are.”

She felt his hands on both of her shoulders grounded her. Slowly she let her hands go though he continued to look her in the eyes. Was he getting closer to her? It felt like he was inching toward her face.

But as soon as she felt the heat of his body spread through her chest, it was gone. He pushed on her shoulders, letting her fly back into the lake. With a splash, the cold water engulfed her, hair in a tangled crazy mess. She quickly swam back to the surface, gasping as air entered her lungs.

“Steve!” She shouted at him but it was no use. He was already in a fit of laughter readying himself to jump in after her.

“Cannon ball!” He shouted as he ran and jumped, clutching his knees to his chest. He splash next to her, a wave of water covered her again. She waited until he reached the surface before pushing water at him. “Hey!”

“You pushed me!”

“You were getting in anyways.”

“Oh that’s it!”

As quick as she could she swam over to him, pushing down on his head to send him back underwater. He was stronger that she thought, stopping her attack by grabbing her waist. She yelped as they throttled around in the water, laughter escaping from both of them.

It took a while but eventually they were able to calm down, floating on the surface as they basked in the summer sun. Y/n let her eyes close, focusing on the sound of the now tamed water, the trees brushing up one another.

“I hope this job works out,” Steve said, so quietly she almost missed it.

“It will. I believe in you,” she replied.

“Yeah but like, what am I gonna do afterwards? I’m not going to college and I certainly don’t wanna sling ice scream for the rest of my life.”

“Maybe you need to skip town, find something outside of this shit hole.”

He picked his head up to look at her, his body sinking slightly into the water more. “Leave Hawkins?”

“Why not?”

“I just- I don’t know… I don’t wanna leave my, I don’t know what to call them. My kids? I don’t want to leave you. A-and what if my soulmate is here? I’m just gonna skip town when the love of my life could be right here?”

“You’ll find each other eventually,” she said, letting the ambience of the lake take over.

If he was staying in Hawkins for her, she would regret it for the rest of her life. Here she was, moving away from her hometown where one of the friends was staying behind. Maybe she should tell him…

“I got into UChicago,” she blurted out. “I-I’m moving there in the fall so, if you’re staying here because of me, don’t.”

Steve picked himself up from his laying position, letting his lower body sink into the water and he treaded to stay floating. “You got in?”

She got up, matching his position. “Yeah, I did.”

“Y/n!”

“What?”

Rather than responding with an answer, he raced toward her, tackling her against the waves. Letting out a yelp her body collided with his. His arms wrapped around her waist, forcing hers to reach over his shoulders.

He held her tight and said, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want to put a timer on our summer,” she responded, feeling his grip on her loosen. They pulled away, leaving little room between them as her look darted back and forth between his eyes. “If I told you before it would be like this huge bummer ya know? It wouldn’t be a fun summer it. It would be our last summer.”

“Chicago is only like three hours away, it won’t be our last summer together,” he responded immediately. He was already making her feel better. “You can’t lose me that quickly, L/n.”

She watched as the gears in his head shifted to another idea. “We need to celebrate!”

Rolling her eyes, she said, “We’re already celebrating, hence the lake remember?”

“This calls for something bigger! Champagne! We need champagne!”

Before she could even answer, he began to swim back toward the dock. She watched him take long strides, his arms coming in and out of the water with perfect form. If she didn’t know he used to be on the swim team she would have been surprised.

Trying to follow quickly, she called out. “We’re 18, Steve, how are we gonna get champagne?”

He arms gripped the edge of the dock, ready to pull himself up. Before doing so, he turned back to her with a smirk. “I have my ways.”

It looked effortless, the way he pulled himself up just by the strength of his upper body. Y/n faltered for a moment, trying to stop herself from examining the muscles of his back. He was more toned that she remembered, each curve fitting perfectly into his skin.

Her eyes trailed further down to where his suit had fallen slightly. As she tried not to laugh at the side of his butt peaking through, something more interesting caught her eye.

There was a asterium marked on his right hip.

Y/n froze, almost forgetting to tread water to keep her afloat. One of her hands flew to her own hip where she knew her soulmate mark was. The marks were always in the same place. And where she knew an asterium of the Summer Triangle laid on her skin, she now knew it laid on Steve’s.

So many thoughts raced through her head. He was her soulmate? Deep down it made sense. She was only pining after him every day since they became friends.

They worked together like Vega and Altair, two of the stars in their shared asterium. The Lovers, coming from separate backgrounds only two fall in love once meeting after a change.

Reaching back down, Steve extended his hand to help her up. “You coming?”

Pulling herself away from her range of thoughts, she willed herself to take it. He helped her out like it was nothing, already moving to where there bags laid to grab the towels.

She was happy, elated that she had found her soulmate. But then there was the realization, the blunder that was Chicago. Was she really going to tell him they were soulmates only to move away for at least four years?

It was one thing to be long distance friends, another entirely to be lovers. She remembered what her parents had told her about the bond soulmates shared. The first few years are vitally important. Love doesn’t form quickly, despite the marks pulling people together. It took her parents three years before they even went on their first date.

Just because she liked him didn’t mean he returned her affections. And if they were to start dating, doing it over 100 miles away from another…

“Here,” Steve said, holding out a towel to her. She looked up him with what she could only guess was a startling expression. He touched his cheek. “What is there something on my face?”

This was the moment. Did she tell him? Ruin what could be the start of a beautiful romance? But then there was always later. When she was home from college, free from distractions. It could give their relationship the proper time to evolve.

Taking the towel, she wrapped it around herself. “Nope, no problem. Let’s go get that champagne.”

🎬🎬🎬

Out of all the ways she thought her summer was going to go, getting tortured by Russians was not one of them.

A lot had happened in the few weeks since Steve started his summer job. Y/n visited him almost every shift, even becoming friendly with his coworker, Robin, who turned out to be Vickie’s soulmate.

Dustin had comeback from his summer camp, elated that he had finally met his soulmate Suzie. She was a sweet girl from Utah who loved science just as much as him.

And while Y/n didn’t know the young boy very well, she found herself most days sitting in the back of Scoops Ahoy, trying to crack a Russian code he had found with Robin.

Codes turned into elevators which soon turned into a not so friendly interrogation.

They had punched her more times than she could count, every inch of her body writhing with pain. She knew Steve was worse from him whimpering as he tied behind her back.

The Russians had taken him away for a separate interrogation, bringing him back almost completely unconscious. She tried to wake him before screaming as they took Robin away to torture next.

“Steve? Can you here me?” she asked but there were only small whines.

They sounded almost involuntary. Pain scorching him even in his unconscious state. Sighing, she tilted her head back, letting it rest gently on her friend’s behind her.

“I really hope you wake up,” she mumbled to herself. “You’re like my only friend now. Besides Robin and Vickie I guess. But it’s different with them, you know? They don’t get me like you do…You’re so important to me, Steve…and it would be really shitty to lose my soulmate to a bunch of Russians.”

The confession was quiet as Steve stirred behind her. She tried to turn her head to look at him but it was no use. She was tightly tied the a chair.

A couple of minutes passed before the Russians came back in, this time carrying Robin who was barely awake.

“Robin? Holy shit, Robin can you hear me?” Y/n called out.

They tossed her on the floor, making her grunt on impact.

Y/n turned to look back up at the Russian commander. “You bastards!”

Slap!

She felt the cold sting of his hand across her face. The whip of pain in her neck. From behind her, she could hear Steve moan, his head lifting slightly as it banged against hers.

She wanted to call out to him, to check if he was okay. But the commander was lowering himself to meet her level. Her nose scrunched from his awful cologne.

“I’m going to ask you three one more time. Who do you work for?” the commander asked with a thick accent.

Steve tried to mutter a response but he was too out of it to say anything coherent. Y/n took over instead.

“They work for Scoops Ahoy!” she yelled. “It’s the ice scream shop in the mall. I-I just visit them on their breaks I work at a video store downtown! You have to believe us we’re fucking 18! You really think we’re spies?”

The commanders face remained still as she pleaded, not a hint of emotion behind his cold, callous face. “You really won’t break, will you.”

Y/n whined in frustration.

“Don’t worry,” he continued. “We have a way to fix that. сделай это”

“W-wait what does that mean?” No one answered her, instead she watched as another person walked over to Steve with a syringe in their hands. “Wait, hold on what are you doing?!”

She could hear Steve yell out in pain, a scream worse than anything she had heard before. As the Russian moved away, there was nothing. No hint of life coming from behind her.

“Steve? Steve!” she yelled, watching as the the man moved over to her with the syringe. “Stop, don’t you fucking touch me!”

It was too late, the tool being prodded into her neck. The pinch stung through her spine, making her yell out to control her pain. Before the pain even faded, she felt herself slip into the darkness…

🎬🎬🎬

The bathroom floors of the mall were utterly disgusting, but Y/n would sit on them all day if it meant she could finally throw up.

They had escaped the secret Russian bunker. Somehow, she couldn’t quiet remember. She saw Dustins face, a cart, some green goo in the elevator, and then Michael J. Fox on a movie screen. That was the last she could recall before her upset stomach willed her to find a bathroom.

Her, Steve, and Robin stumbled into the nearest one they could find. It was the mens room and she was thankful there was nobody else inside. And after minutes, of emptying her stomach, it felt like she could finally breath. Finally have a coherent thought.

She slumped against the red wall of the stall, needing a moment of rest after the very stressful 48 hours she had been through.

“Ugh, my mouth feels disgusting,” Robin called out. “I’m going to the water fountain.” She left the bathroom without saying anything else.

“Oh my god,” Y/n sighed. “After that laughing juice they gave us….I’m never smoking again.”

She tried to make a light hearted comment, to help Steve laugh and feel better. He was definitely beat the worst out of the three of them. But there was no response.

“Steve?”

Dread began to overtake her brain. Quickly, she crawled around the stall, pushing his unlocked door open to reveal him slumped against the wall. His gaze off into the distance.

Leaning forward, she sat on her feet and wrapped both her hands on either side of his face in an effort to get him responsive.

“Hey, are you with me? Does something hurt more?”

A beat passed before he responded, blinking slower than usual. “N-no just…trying to remember.”

Y/n sighed with relief, removing her hands as she went to sit opposite him. “Gotta respond to me okay? You have a concussion, you can’t fall asleep.”

“Sorry,” he replied softly, playing with his hands in his lap. He took in a deep breath before looking up at her. “Sorry for everything actually. I didn’t want you involved in all this.”

“It’s not your fault,” she told him. “I’m the one who wanted to help crack that code.”

“I know,” he said with a sigh, tilting his head to rest on one of his shoulders. “But I could have stopped you.”

She leaned forward, hoping that he would understand. “You couldn’t have, Steve. Wherever you go, I go, right?”

Lifting his head back up, he nodded, his mind drifting off somewhere Y/n couldn’t predict. “Did you talk to me? While I was passed out?”

Feeling her heart drop to her stomach she almost didn’t respond. “I-I was trying to wake you up if that’s what you’re asking.”

“No it’s just - I have a memory. You saying something to me. A-and if I’m wrong tell me and we can forget this whole thing but I gotta know…” He leaned forward, resting his arms on raised knees.

“Are you my soulmate?”

Y/n froze. Did she tell him the truth? That she confessed that they were soulmates and didn’t tell him before? It felt wrong to lie, especially when he flat out asked her.

“This…this wasn’t how I wanted you to find out,” she finally said.

She watching as Steve let out a breath, sinking back into the bathroom wall. “So I wasn’t crazy? You said- that we are- we’re soulmates?”

“No, you aren’t crazy.”

It was hard, trying to keep such a calm demeanor when internally she was freaking out. What would his reaction be? Did he like her? Was he mad she didn’t tell him? Did she just ruin her only chance at true love?

“Can I see it?” he asked.

She forced herself to meet his gaze. Softly, she replied, “sure.”

Gently, she pulled down the hem of her jean shorts, exposing her right hip where her soulmate mark lay. It felt vulnerable, showing her mark, and she guessed this was why people waiting so long before asking in the first place.

His eyes were stuck on the mark, like a deer caught in headlights. Slowly, he reached to his own shorts, pulling his down to show her his mark.

It was the same, of course. A perfectly matching asterium of the Summer Triangle.

They both let there shorts go, the fabric riding up to hide the mark.

“How did you know?” he asked.

“That day at the lake, your shorts came down a little bit and I saw it.”

“Trying to get a peak of me?” he said with a grin.

She laughed, grateful to see the playful side of him coming back. “You wish.”

He was still leaning forward on his knees but somehow he felt closer. Y/n wanted to badly to rush forward and kiss him. His eyes flickered down to her lips before back up at her. Without thinking, her head inched forward.

No, right now was not the time. Covered in blood on a bathroom floor, the taste of throw up in her mouth. This was not going to be her first soulmate kiss.

Beginning to lean back, they were interrupted by the swinging of the bathroom door. Looking over, they spotted a distressed Dustin and Erica along with a slightly dizzy Robin.

Dustin raised his hands in defeat. “Why the hell did you guys leave the theater?”

🎬🎬🎬

You would think that after Y/n and Steve figured out they were soulmates they would talk about it. But no. Neither of them had said a single word.

Weeks past, the fall semester nearing, and while Steve and Y/n hung out almost everyday, it was still as just friends. She wondered why he hadn’t brought it up.

She thought he was into her. So discovering they were matches would move there relationship along. Right?

But he hadn’t said a word. Instead, on a random day at the beginning of July, he banged on her door, the sound echoing through her empty house. Rushing quickly, she opened it, greeted by not only him, but Robin and Vickie as well.

“Hey guys,” she said warily, her body leaned against the frame. “What’s up?”

Steve went to speak but Robin beat him to it. “We got the job!”

Y/n’s eyes went wide, a smile forming on her lips. “Oh that’s awesome guys!”

A few days before hand, while Robin and Steve would searching the paper for job openings, she mentioned Family Video. It was where she had been working throughout high school but with her and Brad Davis leaving in the fall there would be two vacancies. They rushed to apply, Y/n trying to put in a good word with Keith.

Somehow it worked, the two starting their new job next Monday.

“You know what that means right?” Vickie asked her.

“Uh, that you’ll be making money?” she responded unsure.

“It means, another trip to the lake,” Steve corrected. “Get your bathing suit we’re leaving now.”

“Now? Like right now?”

“Yes!” Robin exclaimed, running inside with Vickie, trying to pull on Y/n’s hand.

The two rushed up the stairs to her room, ready to help her pick out the perfect suit but she stayed lingered in the doorway.

“I-I’ll just wait in the car,” Steve said, pointing back at his BMW parked in front of her house.

“Sure, we’ll just be a minute.”

And that’s how Y/n ended up back at Lover’s Lake. Steve’s car rolled to a stop and Vickie was quick to get out, sprinting toward the dock.

“This is going to be so much fun!” Robin exclaimed, opening her door. “It’s like a double date!”

Y/n’s eyebrows squinted at the accusation. But before she could ask her anything, Robin was running after her soulmate. Getting out of the car, she began to walk down to ask her why she would say those things. Her and Steve weren’t dating. Sure they were soulmates but not an ounce of romantic behavior had happened between then.

“Hey,” Steve called out leaning against the hood of his car. “You mind if we talk for a minute?”

Turning back to him, she said, “Sure.” Securing a place leaning next to him.

“I-I know we haven’t really talked about it yet- I mean that’s totally my fault I was trying to recover with this black eye and-“

“You don’t have to explain yourself, Steve,” she interrupted him. "You were recovering and you know, not every soulmate starts dating the moment they find out.”

He turned to face her fully. “No but, when you told me, I just…I can’t remember ever being that happy.”

“We were covered in blood and throwing up on a mall bathroom floor.”

“Than you can see how happy you’ve made me.”

Y/n tried not to let the warmness spreading through her chest affect her. But with a smile slowly forming, Steve could tell she was happy.

“I’ve been wanting to ask you out long before that day at the lake.”

Smile wide, she replied, “Yeah?”

He nodded. “Yeah. So Y/n, will you-“

She didn’t let him finish, rushing forward to plant her lips on his. He was surprised at first, his back hitting the hood of the car again. But quickly he melted into her touch, his arms wrapping around her waist in an attempt to pull her closer than she already way.

Her body was snuggled between his legs, her mouth slowly brushing against his. She tilted her head, getting a better angle that felt like fireworks were going off in her heart.

But slowly, she pulled away, seeing her lipstick stain his lips perfectly.

“-go out with me?” Steve finished and Y/n couldn’t help but laugh.

Her head fell, resting on his chest as they giggled. But slowly she looked back up at him, her body still entangled with his.

“Yes, I will go out with you.”

Leaning back in she grabbed one more kiss from him. It was short, sweet, and everything she ever wanted from her soulmate. She then begrudgingly separated herself from him, taking his hand as they walked toward the dock.

Robin and Vickie were already in the water, wrapped around each other as they floated in bliss. The sound of foot steps creaking against the platform got their attention. Looking over at the new couple, hand intertwined, they grinned widely.

“Whoo!” Robin exclaimed. “Double date!”

Steve looked over at his soulmate, happier than he had been in a long time. She smiled up at him in a way that made him never want to stop looking at her.

Repeating Robin’s words he said, “Yeah, double date.”

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bby-deerling · 5 months

Note

IM NEW HERE I LOVE YOUR WRITINGS, AND CONGRATULATIONS FOR 250 FOLLOWERS!!!🪅🪅 Can I request "remember the time" with law!!?$3(+$+$! thank yew!!🐑

thank "ewe" for the request (you are now sheep anon to me)!!! i also combined that other request you sent me about a reader who is clingy while drunk, if that's okay!

this is also part of my lil' counting coins verse, but this can be read standalone as well! [1] [2] [3] (2 and 3 are nsfw, so mdni with those ones!)

law + remember the time (sfw, gn!reader)

wc: 1.0k masterlist

On his way to Dressrosa, Law is becoming increasingly irritated, grumpy, and restless. Secretly, he’s relieved that you don’t have to see him like this, on edge and touchy, constantly torn between running through his plans in his head and being caught up in painful memories. He sighs to himself at the thought of you, knowing you would be able to handle his moodiness effortlessly; however, as much as he craved your presence, having you here was too much of a risk to even consider. Though Law had left you behind with the rest of his crew, that didn’t necessarily mean that you had no role to play in his current plans—in truth, it was quite the opposite.

You were there, albeit only in spirit, to ground him. Memories of simpler times are kept constantly swirling on the backburner in his mind, keeping him sane and giving him something to hold onto when the emotional weight begins to grow too heavy.

When he’s awake late at night, despite knowing he needs rest, as guilt and grief eat him alive, he latches onto the pink flush that dusted your cheeks during the first time he meets you, the countless number of nights the two of you ended up falling asleep on his office couch together after a long night of work, or the thrill at the beginning of your relationship as you both tried to keep things under wraps for as long as possible. However, the memory of your seemingly well-hidden relationship coming to light is the one he ends up reaching for as a comfort tonight.

The others were bound to find out at some point—secrets were impossible to keep for too long when trapped between the walls of a submarine, after all—but he was hoping to keep the rest of the crew in the dark for longer than a few short months. You had been on the same page, not wanting to be the target of teasing jokes from Shachi and Penguin until the heat death of the universe, but Ikkaku had gotten you a bit too tipsy one night, clouding your senses and decision-making. Unceremoniously, you ended up plopping down next to him in the booth he was sitting at, draping your legs over his lap and nuzzling your tired face into his side.

“Knock it off. We’re in public.” he scolded quietly, bristling at your touch.

“Law, ‘m so tired… Can you take me to bed?” you slurred, face still buried in his shirt.

“You’re wasted.” he observed, directing his words more so to Shachi and Penguin sitting across from him, trying to salvage the situation in any way possible. This only sends them both into a laughing fit, making Law let out a deep sigh.

“Pay up! I knew they’d crack this week! Bepo owes me too!” Shachi exclaimed with a big grin, holding his hand out to Penguin as he calls the mink over.

“No way!” Penguin protested, “It doesn’t count unless they kiss!” Bepo made his way over to the booth, nearly knocking over Shachi’s drink, leading him to profusely apologize.

“Shachi’s saying we lost the bet, tell him—”

“The bet was when they would slip up in front of us, not when they’d kiss!”

“But we made the bet when Bepo saw them making out in the hallway!”

Law pulled his hat over his eyes and put his head in his hands in embarrassment; you were still clinging to him, and by the familiar, slow patterns of your breathing, you were fast asleep.

“Sorry Captain…” Bepo apologized, tears forming in the corners of his eyes. Law let out another sigh, unable to resist the urge to forgive Bepo when he gives him those adorable pleading eyes.

“It’s alright, Bepo.” he said, absolving his navigator of any guilt; mentally, he was still running through all of your sneaky trysts on the Polar Tang, trying to figure out when you two could have possibly gotten caught.

“Don’t get too bent out of shape. We knew before that, Captain.” Penguin said, as if he was reading his mind. “You started sitting next to them at dinner.”

“And Ikkaku says they haven’t slept in their bed in months.” Shachi added.

“Plus, you’re always hovering over them in the lab.”

“You’re always with them on island trips! And you bought them that little snow leopard plush.”

“Oh—Shachi, don’t forget the coin thing they do!”

“Especially the coin thing!”

Law flicked up the brim of his hat and shot them a glare. “I get it.” he grumbled, wrapping an arm around your sleeping form, seeing no point in keeping up the façade any longer.

“Aww—” they cooed, much to Law’s chagrin; now that the two of you had been found out, he could only hope that the novelty of teasing him would wear off after a while.

“I think you’re a very cute couple, Captain!” Bepo exclaimed with a smile, eyes sparkling. Law rolled his eyes.

“Sorry Captain—”

“Don’t apologize.” he said, shifting his weight to pull you into his arms and pick you up bridal style. “Besides, I’ve got to get them to bed.”

Law didn’t stick around to hear the uproar he caused, swiftly making his way out of the bar and leaving them to argue about who really won the bet they had made at his expense.

“You’re in trouble, I hope you know that.” he said when you stir in his arms on the way back to the Polar Tang and gaze up at him, eyes still glazed over.

“They already knew. Ikkaku told me tonight. I thought we were being discreet.” you mumbled, letting your eyes drift closed again.

He pressed a kiss to your forehead, grateful for the privacy the night sky cast over the two of you. “So did I.” he said, lips curling into a smile.

Staring up at the stars, laying on his back on the deck of the Sunny, he feels the phantom sensation of his lips on your forehead; the touch from years ago feels fresh, as if you were still curled up in his arms. He lets out a long exhale, finally feeling deserving of some sleep—after all, he needed to be on top of things mentally so he could make it back to you and the others as soon as possible.

He pictures your smiling face once more before a cloud of darkness swallows him whole, finally allowing him to rest.

#one piece x reader #x reader #law x reader #trafalgar law x reader #one piece scenario #250 follower event #some fluff as an olive branch for the angst earlier

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linkspooky · 8 months

Note

Hi I really love ur metas your jjk ones really made me appreciate the story even more. I was curious about ur analysis on why Gojo is important to Geto.

It's obvious as to why Geto is important to Gojo and how Geto effected him but I don't think it's talked about enough of the reversal

That's a good observation anon, the story makes it less obvious what Geto needs Gojo for, while spending a long time lingering on the tragedy of Geto's loss and what the loss of his only real friend meant for Gojo.

I think part of this is because Geto is a character of deep self-reflection so a lot of his internal narration is about his feelings towards his self and thinking through his own ideals and what that means. Whereas Gojo doesn't really self reflect but he does observe other people. We don't know what Gojo's opinions on a lot of things are, but we know what Geto meant to him because he's much clearer on how he felt towards Geto. Geto's staring into himself trying to figure what he feels personally, Gojo is always staring at other people trying to figure out what they feel.

As for why Gojo means so much to Geto, it's important to remember that they are a duo. They're the same idiot in different fonts. Geto's a much more human character and we are inside his head more often so it's easy to forget that when they were young Geto had the same kind of god / superiority complex that Gojo did.

Geto is associated with religious imagery over and over again, the same way that Gojo is associated with budhist ideals of enlightenment and escaping karma. They are both people who were in their teenage years more powerful than everyone around them, and because of that looked down on everyone.

Even Geto's stated ideals of "protecting the weak" come from a place of superiority. He still divides people mentally into the weak and the strong. The special ones and the common rabble. He sees people the same way Gojo does, he just believes that the strong like him and Gojo have a moral obligation to use their powers responsibly in service of others.

Geto's not more humble than Gojo. Their moral disagreement comes from how they should use the power they've been given, but they both feel that the power they have puts them in a position above other people.

All of this to illustrate the fact that if Gojo felt isolated as a teenager because all the power he had made him feel lonely and unable to connect with others, then so Geto probably felt isolated in the same way too. They each found in each other someone they could finally call their equal. Because of it they gained someone they could be vulnerable around and someone they could trust to watch their back.

The things Geto does for Gojo (check on his feelings when no one else would, go out of his way to reassure him), Gojo does for Geto in return. It's not Geto always taking care of Goo it's a partnership between the two of them where they lean on each other.

When Kuroi is kindapped and Geto immediately falls into a funk and starts to blame himself for his mistake, it's Gojo who reassures him by hurrying him along and telling him they need to focus on planning what they should do next. Gojo knows Geto well enough to know his tendency to get trapped in his own thoughts and gives him the kick in the pants he needs.

In the same scene where Geto checks on Gojo's well-being to make sure he's not overusing his power, Gojo returns the sentiment by reassuring Geto not to worry about him because he won't push himself too hard and that he's not in this alone Geto's here too.

That's probably a big part of it for Geto. Yes, Geto tends to naturally slide into the caretaker role, watching out for Gojo and checking in on him but at the same time Geto probably likes that there is someone who needs him in that way. If Gojo's defined by his lack of connection with other people, Geto's defined by the way he goes out to make connections. It's nice to be needed as they say. The fact that someone as seemingly self-sufficient as Gojo not only relies on Geto a great deal, but lets Geto take care of him is probably a big part of their bond.

Which is probably why Gojo's awakening post Toji is a big part in why they started to grow apart from each other. If Geto likes to live in service to other people, and defines himself by his connection to others he probably interpreted Gojo no longer needing his support on missions and suddenly doing everything by himself as Gojo pulling away from him.

I think a big part in Geto's downfall was the hit he took when one he was defeated by Toji someone without Jujutsu and too, Gojo suddenly became out of his reach. Gojo himself never said that they were no longer the strongest duo, or that they were no longer the strongest together it's all Geto. As I said Geto has as much of a god complex as Gojo does.

He thought they were on the top together, and not only is he suddenly confronted with his own weakness at the exact same time Gojo's become so strong it appears on the surface that he no longer needs anyone's support, especially not Geto's.

Nanami says it out loud, but Geto probably echoes the sentiment. If Gojo is now strong enough to handle every mission on his own then what need does he have for other sorcerers - and Geto in particular? Geto goes from feeling needed in a lot of ways by Gojo who was just as important a friend to him as he was to Gojo to watch Gojo suddenly handle everything alone. In a lot of ways it probably felt like Geto lost Gojo far before the KFC breakup and his defection from Jujutsu High. From Geto's perspective their relationship was over, their partnership broken and Gojo just did not realize it until after the village massacre.

At first Geto had as big of an ego with Gojo, and connected in a special way with him because the two of them were on top together. However, he came to believe that the only reason their partnerhsip worked was because they were both the strongest. When Gojo became the strongest alone Geto believed incorrectly that what they once had was lost and Gojo no longer needed him when Gojo's emotional reaction to Geto's defection shows that's anything but true.

In Geto's mind it is though because he's kind of got the same messed up way of dividing people into strong and weak that Gojo does, he probably just realized that he was one of the weak ones and feared Gojo thinking the same way.

During Geto and Gojo's final confrontation he almost has an inferiority complex about it when he talks about how if he had the limitless he'd easily be able to accomplish what he set out to do.

Until that moment Geto always thought they were equals, but now Geto's suddenly talking like he covets Gojo's power. He suddenly wants to be Gojo, probably because he incorrectly believes that their partnership is base don being equals in power when it's really just a normal friendship.

Which is why the loss of Gojo's friendship affects Geto just as badly as the other way around. Everyone wants to be equals with their friends, especially to a friend as important as Gojo was to Geto.

There's almost a tragic irony in how when speaking of his friendship to Nanako and Mimiko, Geto acts like their friendship ended when Gojo left Jujutsu High. It's their in his death scene too, Geto is surprised by the fact that Gojo has any feelings left for him.

Geto's so insecure over his connection to Gojo he didn't understand that in Gojo's mind they were still friends right up until the very end, and perhaps if he were just a bit more secure they would have been able to reach one another instead of falling apart.

#jjk meta #geto suguru #suguru geto #gojo satoru #satoru gojo #satosugu #metasks

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obae-me · 5 months

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The Brothers and their Nightmares

I was going to post this for Halloween, but things came up as they always do and I couldn't get to finishing it until now. Enjoy the late angst and spoops!

These are just dream scenarios I imagined the Brothers would suffer with, connected to both their Sin and the personal things they struggle with. Most of it is symbolic but could still be triggering for some.

TW: Hurt/No Comfort, Violent Images, Death, Blood, Angst, Nightmare Scenarios, Burning, Broken Bones, Disturbing Scenes that may upset readers. As Always, Read Safely.

Lucifer:

Displayed in a box. Preserved. Hung on a shelf for all to see. Trapped in a clear case with giant pins puncturing his wings and limbs in place. A perfect specimen.

The pain is immense. The torture almost unbearable, but this is where he belongs, right? To be shown off with Pride? To weather any struggles and pain to shine ever brighter in the light? A diamond only need be pressurized, cut, and polished before it's valuable.

Blurry faces of demons and angels and humans alike all pass him by, pointing at him and observing him with awe, sometimes fear, but nothing more. A living piece of art. He's searching for any familiarity amongst the crowd. The people he loves the most, the people he wants to shine for above all, the people he's suffering for!

Please! Give him a reason to endure this crucifixion! Prove to him that this is worth it! Let him know that he's enough! This prison must mean something! Don't say it was all for nothing! Everything he's worked for! Everything he's lamented over, toiled for! Look at him! Appreciate him!

But no one ever comes.

In the end he's left alone. The pins push deeper. The blood dripping from his eyes.

Just a caged butterfly.

Mammon:

Glistening palms. Shimmering faces. Gold as far as the eye can see. A perfect shining kingdom. Frozen lifeless subjects. This isn't what he wanted.

Come on, Belphie. Beel? What about you Asmo?... Satan?... No... Levi, please... Hells no... Lucifer!

Unmoving metal lips match each stiff jeweled eye. His hands... He- he had only touched them. That was all he did. Right? All he had done was love them. The Greed had become too much. In his ambition for glory, his corrupted embrace had tainted his family past the flesh. Motionless mannequins, that's all they were now. Cursed to shine till the end of time. His treasures that he had always craved.

Was this what he had wanted all along? No! He had created this all for his family! His friends! His loved ones! They were to all to gimmer with him! Not leave him alone! He did this. He always took things too far. Steal and cheat and lie until nothing remained! Rotten scum! Why couldn't he just listen? Why couldn't he just be better?! Give him a second chance... please. He can be better... Someone say something...

A destiny written in stone. Take. Even the lives of his brothers.

No matter how hard he tries, he only makes things worse.

Surrounded by the Fool's gold.

Levi:

Clanging, burning chains. There's a constant deafening buzzing in the air, the chatter of thousands of people. The voices rise and fall in rhythm, like the beating of war drums, or the increasing pace of his heart. He can't think, he can hardly see, and he can't breathe.

Millions of shining eyes stare down at his restrained body in the middle of a stadium. The blinding gazes singe his body, his skin melting off his bones. He's not the only one at the center of attention. Other people, other contestants are here to play the same game. Win, and get everything you ever dreamed. Lose, and be forced to burn with Envy and shame.

Every failed attempt of his makes the arena hotter. The infernal heat spills from the breaths of the crowd sharing his weaknesses to the world. They give his competitors the advantage, kicking him while he's down. The thrumming gets faster. It's not fair! He's trying so hard! Was he just doomed from the start? Was he born a failure? Hated by the universe since the moment of conception?! Is that why he's never good enough? Is that why all his brothers get to move on without him?!

His dreams always just out of reach. He's not good enough to be loved.

The bitterness eats him up from the inside.

Till he's melted into a pile of nothing.

Satan:

A mess of strings. The curtain is drawn. The show begins! It's the same routine day after day after day after day-- He can't take this any more!

He doesn't even understand this masquerade! The story he's forced to play out is gibberish, some fickle plot he can't even begin to fathom. Everything is foreign to him. The audience, the dance, his body, his Wrath. None of it is recognizable. And they chuckle like they know, like they enjoy his ignorance. Limbs are pulled in any direction the strings choose. Bones broken, lips sealed shut, he's pushed to the brink of oblivion once again.

But he worked so hard! Everything he's read, everything he learned, so he could stop feeling like this! He's not just a hollow doll, controlled by someone else's ambitions! He has thoughts, he has feelings! He might... not fully understand them yet, but he's trying! Tell him he's smart, that he's strong, that he's his own person! Let him stand on his own!

But only his mind is allowed to scream as the congregation watches.

A wicked dance until the strings are snipped. His opportunity to be independent. But instead, he falls into a lifeless heap on the floor.

Nothing without someone else.

The poor wooden plaything will never be real.

Asmo:

An endless winding labyrinth of mirrors. He runs, panting and crying as he tries to find his way through the illusions. Make it stop! Let him have peace!

The creatures are invisible to his normal eyes, only showing up in the reflections of the mirrors surrounding him. There's hundreds of them at least, crawling over each other to get to him. They don't even make a sound, silently scrambling towards him. An amalgamation of Lust. Each time they grab him, they take something precious from him. His fingernails, strands of his hair, his beautiful lips, the blush from his cheeks. They rip off of him as easily as tearing away a puzzle piece.

They're stripping him of his beauty bit by bit! How is he supposed to be loved like this?! If he's not gorgeous, than what is he? He has nothing left! This is all he has! He's not strong, or smart, or powerful! His physical charm is all he has! Please, leave him alone! He's supposed to be a jewel! That's all anyone ever sees him as!

He can't bear to look at himself. Every time he glances he's slightly different. Until he no longer recognizes the humanoid shell in the mirror. But he has no choice to keep looking if he wants to keep an eye on the monsters pursuing him.

A single fumble.

It's rather quick and painless as the souls each take what they want from him.

And leave him broken in shards on the floor.

Beel:

Screams echo from every direction. Buildings crumble as the earth shakes and the air hums. A moving living black cloud sweeps through the town. Where's his family? He has to help.

The sky a vast pool of crimson as the Celestial Sun and Demonic Moon cross paths and cast a torrent of blood down onto the merging realms. The ground beneath them all trembles, growling. It's Gluttonous. Every person he tries to save is always just too far away. They either get consumed from the plague of insects or fall into the gaping maws of the starving earth. And he still can't find his family.

Why? Why is this happening? Why isn't he strong enough to save anyone?! All the workouts, all the training, pushing his muscles stronger than any demon ever has, all so he can quit feeling so useless! He told himself he would be ready to take on anything! Even an entire army if he had to, just so he could save somebody for once! Lilith... Belphie… everyone... he's sorry... Sorry he's so weak. This is his fault.

The foundation beneath his feet begins to crumble.

His wings feel far too fragile to fly.

It makes sense that in the End of Days, no one would be there to save him.

He didn't deserve it.

Belphie:

There's something rotten in his chest. It feels like a pit in his soul, growing larger with every passing second. The sensation is agonizing.

It's something no one can see, but something he feels with every breath. It's very slowly stripping him of everything he is. His love, his memories, his desires... He needs to go find help. The House is laid out all wrong. Doors lead to where they shouldn't, hallways bend in the wrong directions. His house doesn't even feel like home anymore. Every step feels harder than it should. The supposedly easy task of getting help seeming more like an impossible feat. This rot is more than just Sloth. It takes what seems like hours to finally find his family. That's when he reaches out to them, trying to tell them what's wrong. But he can't speak for some reason.

Gestures and panicked grasping means nothing to his brothers. The desperation in his eyes goes ignored as most simply rub his head or push him off to the side, not taking him seriously in the least. But this hurts! He can't take the pain anymore! Someone help him! Don't push him away, don't treat it like a joke! Listen to him! Take what he has to say into consideration! He can't possibly speak over six other voices!

His efforts wasted, his energy depleted.

The rot ate away at his heart and left him numb.

And everyone walked away, leaving the boy who cried to cry alone.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me headcanons #obey me imagines #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me levi #obey me satan #obey me asmo #obey me beel #obey me belphie #obey me nightbringer #hurt/no comfort #tw: violence #tw: death #tw: blood #tw disturbing imagery #tw burning #tw broken bones

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