Castaways | Elliot

heyy. can u do a fic about dom being needy on tour? just always talkin bout y/n during his sets any chance he gets & being clingy underneath of them right after.

not nsfw this time lmao. sex mentioned but no acts. not proofread. love you guys <3

x

this time around, dom was way more involved in the behind-the-scenes aspects of the tour, walking around and making sure everyone on the team was good and helping them when they weren't. the authoritative tone in his voice as he told them, respectfully but firmly, what he was looking for. walking up and down the same hallway, carrying out tasks from person to person, it was so amusing to watch. you only saw him with this same passion when he was in the studio, his lips pressed and a slight arch in his brow. most people wouldn't notice but you'd studied this man at every given chance, you noticed every tick of his. which is why you knew, he couldn't wait to pull you to the green room and shoo everyone out so he could get you alone.

with a knowing smirk on your lips, you're leant against the doorframe of said green room, watching as he's on his way to deliver electrical tape to who knows. "you're gonna tire yourself out before the show even starts," you warn, knowing how he tends to take on more than he can chew.

"nah, i got plenty left, trust. get in there and close the door, i'm coming in there after this." he shakes his curls out before breaking into a jog, hurrying to whoever he had to pass the tape to.

you just watch him pass you, eyes trailing over him until he's out of sight, pressing your lips together to hide your smile as you step back, closing the green room door while it was still empty of stragglers.

it didn't take too long, scrolling on tiktok to pass the time when the door opened without a knock, signalling it was dom. he closed and locked the door behind himself, strolling right over to you and before you could get any words out pressed his lips to yours. he was eager and needy, kisses rushed but yet like he was trying to savor your taste before he had to hit the stage. putting your hands on his chest, you kissed him back but gently pushed him away.

"after." you smiled knowingly, watching him deflate with disappointment.

"i've been hard for the past ten minutes." he complained, not trying to make you feel guilty. he knew you were right - you always were. but you were sure he was starting to hurt. "you're wearing those fucking jeans." burying his face in your neck, leaving little kisses and nipping you right where he knew you were sensitive.

you laughed, knowing exactly what he meant. his favorite pair of jeans on you. he claimed they made your ass look 'even hotter'. you couldn't disagree. with the hefty price tag, it better be working wonders. rubbing his back, you only soothed him, knowing better than to give in.

"i'm flattered. but you have soundcheck in like... twenty." you checked your apple watch. you got used to wearing a watch after he started up doing shows and public appearances again. he tended to run late.

"twenty whole minutes? that's plenty of time!" he gasped, whining like a child, only making you roll your eyes.

"you have to have your mic pack on before then. people are gonna interrupt any minute." you cup his cheek, bringing his face up to meet yours, pecking his lips chastely. "and as much as i love you and i love quickies, i want to take my time with you. is that okay with you?"

it took him a few seconds to take in your words before he gives you that crooked smile, "well i'm not gonna say no to that."

during the show, he couldn't help but to mention you. he often did during his sets but not like this.

"this next song is called bodies. and i wanna dedicate it to my fine ass girlfriend over there," he slouches over the mic, guitar strap around his neck as he points to you waiting in the wings, "cuz we're starting fresh right after this show's over. let's go!" he goes into the song, bypassing the innuendo that he made and leaving your jaw dropped. he laughed into the lyrics as he looked back at your reaction, fingers flipped to send him the bird playfully as he continued into the song.

I'm Good At Letting You Go (You Were Never the Enemy)

part one

A/N: I didn't expect anyone to read the first part, but a few people did, so here we are. I thought publishing a one-shot might help my hyperfixation, and prevent me from seeing the movie a third time, but...again...here we are.

warnings: explicit language, blood and gore, allusions to violence involving guns

summary: the end and the beginning of your relationship with lo'ak

***

Loose cuffs trapped your wrists. You’d wriggle out of them once the guards turned their backs. And the ship would be easy enough to crawl through undetected. The head injury resulted in nothing but a mild throbbing in your skull. It was the inconvenience of having to escape that irked you, that made your fingers itch to get a hold of the gun pressed to your head so you could inconvenience your captors right back. 

Revenge was not something you thirsted over often, but you became a lot less forgiving after you left the Metkayina clan a year ago. 

(after you left Lo’ak)

The wreckage of your simple plan was not entirely your fault, though. There was another presence on the ship, something more violent than you, that caused an unaccounted-for influx of guards and updated security system that resulted in your capture. 

The cells were on the bottom of the ship, and you sighed to yourself as you saw how much extra work it would take to climb back up undetected. 

“Pretty hair,” one of the guards sneered, wrapping their fists in your strands and yanking. “I wonder how much it’d sell for.” Your steps faltered, neck jerked back, and you gave one last struggle to get away from them, but their grip on your arms was too tight, and you knew it was futile, so you let them drag you along, scalp aching. 

Keeping a mental note of how many left and right turns you took, you were led down a winding hallway, stopped in front of a heavy door. 

Shoved inside, you had a strong sense of déjà vu when you met eyes with the other prisoner in the cell. 

Your steps faltered, something the soldiers behind you mistook for resistance. They shoved you forward, fastening your wrists to the bar next to Lo’ak. 

“Hey, wait,” Lo’ak called after them when they turned to leave. “I’ll take a bullet to the brain, please.” 

Heaving in a stuttering breath, you looked at the floor as the guards urged Lo’ak to be careful what he wished for. Then, the door opened and sealed shut, and the two of you were alone for the first time in months. 

Silence spread between you, stifling you. Lo’ak was never one to keep his thoughts to himself, and you waited for his tongue-lashing, but it never came. 

“It wasn’t easy.” You still weren’t looking at him, instead choosing to burn a hole in the wall. You had risked a few glances, though, comforted by the fact that he wasn’t looking at you, either. You did not want to be the victim of the hatred in his eyes. “Leaving, I mean. It wasn’t—” you cut yourself off with a sigh, frustrated at your lack of words. 

How many times had you dreamed about being reunited with him? Granted, under more favorable circumstances, but you’d spent so long without him, thinking of him, wishing things were different. Wishing you could talk to him just one more time and explain yourself. 

And now he was here, next to you, chained down so he literally had to listen to you, and you couldn’t figure out what to say. 

“Seemed easy enough.” 

The two of you exchanged a long glance. 

You should’ve known that when you saw him again, it would not be full of warm embraces. It would be harsh words and cold shoulders. 

“Leaving, I mean.” He mocked you with a shake of his head. Talking down to you, like he used to when you first met. 

You were being honest. 

When you joined the Sully’s on their journey, you told yourself not to get attached. This is only temporary, you repeated in your head, even as you taught Kirri what you knew about healing and let Tuk fall asleep on you at night. This is only temporary, you reminded yourself as Neteyam taught you hunting tricks and Neytiri put beads in your hair and Jake sharpened your knives for you and laughed when you showed him the records you’d collected. 

I remember this one, he had said, eyes bright, turning the Britney Spears vinyl over in his hands. You should see the music video. 

But somewhere along the way you’d forgotten just how fragile your situation was. Distracted by the feeling of finally having a family, of finally having people who would notice if you fell off the face of the earth, you forgot to repeat your mantra. 

This is only temporary, you neglected to remind yourself as you showed Lo’ak around the little tree house you’d built near his birthplace, explaining your past through little polaroid’s hung on the wall. 

This is only temporary, you forgot to whisper when the two of you laid on the back of Payakan, tracing constellations, spending the night drifting on the calm ocean waves. 

Lulled into a false sense of security, you chipped away at the stone exterior you’d spent so long constructing, and just as you lowered your defenses, you were struck. 

When you left, you told yourself it was only temporary. 

At least, you wanted it to be. 

But in the long year without him, without any of them, you were reminded why you left. You put a target on their back and returning would be cruel. 

Lo’ak didn’t understand that, though, a fact made clear by his tense shoulders and clenched jaw. 

You missed him. 

Suddenly, you started tugging at your cuffs. You thought seeing him again would be easy. Maybe all that time apart made you delusional. 

You slipped out of your restraints, reached into your boot, and gripped the small blade hidden there. Stepping towards him, he leaned back, as if he couldn’t stand you being close to him. 

“Don’t,” he warned. “I don’t want anything from you.” 

Staring at him, standing there like an idiot with the knife limp in your hand, you said, “you’re being ridiculous.” 

He raised his eyebrows, scoffing. “I’m being ridiculous?” Clenching his fists, you were suddenly glad he was restrained. “You’re so fucking—” he cut himself off, and you were thankful, because you don’t think you could handle whatever he was about to call you. “Just get the fuck out. I never want to see you again.” 

“I’m not leaving you here.” 

“Funny. You seem to be really good at that.” 

“Can we just focus on getting off of this ship and then we can—"

“You don’t get to pick and choose when you give a shit about me--” 

“Would you just stop and listen--” You paced, directly in front of him, his face tilted back to look up at you, enraged.

“You left.” 

His words cut through yours, and whatever you were about to say died on your tongue. The raggedness of his voice, the weariness in his eyes as he looked at you, this was not the same Lo’ak you walked away from. 

There was no response from you. You did leave, you couldn’t negate that fact. It had been for his benefit, but you still left. 

At the time, you convinced yourself that it wouldn’t matter. He was fine before you, then you were just a way to pass time and get comfort, and he’d be fine after you. Same with all the others. 

It was a different kind of heartbreak. You’d convinced yourself that you were the only one mourning your loss. Looking at him now, you thought maybe that wasn’t the case.

The cell door swung open. You turned, half expecting a bullet, but instead you were greeted with a familiar face. 

“Kiri,” you said in surprise as she said your name in the same tone, both of your eyes wide. She looked between her brother, the knife in your hand, and your face. She looked pale, as if she’d seen a ghost. 

If Kiri was here, so was Tuk, and Neteyam, which meant their parents were probably also close by. 

You retreated. 

It made you a coward, turning tail and running at the first sign of conflict, but you’d fought against every single impulse to return to them, and facing Lo’ak’s disappointment alone was too much to bear. You couldn’t face all of them. 

“1657 is the security code,” you told her, gesturing to the side of the cell. “Punch it in and the door will open.” 

Kiri was still staring at you, motionless. Your impatience snapped. “Now, Kiri. Please.” 

The doors slid open; a suction of air released. There was no barrier between you now. In your head, your reunion with her was full of smiles and laughter. 

You brushed past her in silence and dropped the knife on the ground in front of her. “In case you need it,” you jerked your head towards Lo’ak. “For him.” 

You didn’t look back, knowing it’d be much harder if you did. You regretted seeing him at all, and wished you never had. 

Before, your last memory of him was on that tiny island. 

Now, the last thing you’ll remember of him will be his harsh words and resentful eyes. 

A long time ago, your first meeting had been under similar circumstances. 

Laying in the darkest corner of the cave, you woke groggily, as if you’d been drugged. You blinked, head aching, your cheek pressed to something wet. Your own blood, you assumed, judging by the metallic smell and taste in your mouth. 

A loose knot restrained your hands in front of you, and although you felt like you’d been put through the ringer, it was easy enough to pick. With weak arms, you pushed yourself up, swaying. You pressed a hand to the cave wall to steady yourself. Whatever happened to you, you must’ve lost a lot of blood as a result. 

You took a few staggering steps, trying your best to keep yourself quiet. 

The sound of arguing around a bend in the cave covered your clumsiness.

“We have to call this in.” 

“Are you kidding? We’ll be slaughtered.” 

“It’ll be worse if we don’t tell him, and then he finds out later.” 

“I’ll be murdered. Violently.” 

“You exaggerate.” 

“And what do you think they’ll do to her? What if they kill her.” 

“They won’t.” 

“We don’t know that.” 

Back pressed to the cold stone, you listened. You only heard two different voices. Two captors were manageable. Two captors you could sneak past and avoid a fight. In your weakened state, you would be no match for even the kindest of creatures. 

Just as you’d lifted your foot to slink through the shadows, a third voice interrupted. You grit your teeth, mood soured, and retreated again. 

“I say we talk to her first.” 

“Who knows if we even speak the same language.” 

“She looked pretty bad when you brought her here. I should go check on her, make sure she’s still alive.” The female voice sounded kind, but at the mention of her coming to look for you, you panicked. 

In a perfect world, you’d have a weapon to defend yourself. But this was Pandora, and whoever dragged you to this cave was smart enough to confiscate anything you could’ve used to hurt them. 

There was more bickering between them as you wrestled with yourself, deciding whether you should make a run for the opening of the cave (which would be more like a very brisk walk, in your state). 

Except you had no idea where you were. It could be more dangerous outside of the cave than inside. 

Before your mind caught up with your actions, you stepped around the bend in the cave, making yourself known to the others. 

The girl saw you first. She paused mid-step, falling back on her heel as her eyes widened and her lips parted in surprise. 

She was Omaticayan, evident by her tail and color. There was another boy with her, too, also belonging to the same clan. The sky person threw you off guard, his shock clear through the mask he wore on his face. 

Even though they had a few inches on you in height, and more muscle, the fact that they seemed to be similar in age leveled the playing field a bit. 

A long stretch of silence followed your appearance as they sized you up, just as you’d been doing to them. You imagined how horrifying you looked. Hair matted to your face with dried blood, cuts and deep bruises along your body and face, voice rasped. “Do I need to worry about you killing me?” 

Your question shocked them out of their stupor. 

“How did you get free from the rope?” 

The avoidance of your question set you on edge, and your shoulders tensed. “The knot was loose.” 

The Na’avi boy punched the human boy in the arm. “I told you to tie that shit tighter.” 

“I didn’t want to cut off her circulation!” 

“Do I have to worry about you trying to kill me?” you reiterated your question, louder this time, though your voice still cracked. 

“No,” the girl spoke, placing a hand over her chest. “We were just—” 

“I saved your life.” 

The girl closed her eyes and sighed when the Omaticayan boy spoke, and you looked over her shoulder at him. 

Wracking your brain, you tried to remember needing to be saved. But you were drawing up blank, and that disadvantage frustrated you. He could be lying, and you’d have no way of knowing. 

“How long have I been here?” 

He scoffed, inching a few steps forward. “You know, usually people say, ‘thank you’ when someone goes out of their way to keep them from dying.” 

“Lo’ak—” the girl hissed, turning her face to give him a warning glance. 

He raised his hands limply in self-defense, giving her a boyish grin and a halfhearted shrug. “I’m just saying.” He looked at you again. “Maybe they do things differently where you’re from.” 

Based on the way you looked, it was evident you were not native to the forest. Your hair a stark white, even underneath the blood stains. Skin a lighter shade of blue, smaller than them. 

The girl turned back to you with an exasperated look. “Ignore him. We’re not going to kill you.” 

Still on edge, you took a step back to put some distance between yourself and the rest of them. She placed a hand on her chest, sensing your discomfort. “My name’s Kiri.” She jerked her head towards the human boy. “That’s Spider.” 

Despite yourself, your lips quirked. “Spider?” 

Cheeks tinted red, he explained the lore behind his name, but you were only half-listening, still trying to hatch an escape plan. 

You didn’t realize he’d stopped speaking until they were all staring at you expectantly. “Oh,” you said, swallowing thickly. You told them your name since it was only fair. 

“Well, it’s nice to meet you.” Kiri smiled, and you could tell she wanted to ask questions. They all did, you could see it in their curious glances. An interrogation was exactly the situation you wanted to avoid. 

Your eyes flicked down to the girl’s arm, where she pressed a white cloth to her forearm. It was dripping, splattering on the cave floor. 

Finally, a way out. 

“I can treat that.” You nodded towards her injury. 

“We’re headed back to our home soon. They can patch me up there.” 

“You should come with us,” Lo’ak interjected, stepping forward again. You eyed him. 

Supposedly, he saved your life. You’ve never even met him before, and doubted it was true. Kiri and Spider seemed a bit more hesitant than he was, aware of the fact that none of you knew each other. Lo’ak seemed at ease, though. Shoulders relaxed, eyes bright and trusting, like he was searching for something within in you. 

Too close, an alarm rang in your head. You made a mental note to keep an eye on him.

“You’ll lose a lot more blood if you wait. I can stitch it up in just a few minutes. Where are we?” 

Their curiosity got the better of them. You followed them outside, blinking in the bright sunlight, eyes sore from sleep and having adjusted to the darkness of the cave. 

You were near some sort of wreckage. A small ship crashed in a clearing a few hundred feet from the opening of the cave. “We found this place after we got caught in a storm one day.” Spider moved just as quickly as his Na’avi friends; you noted as he spoke to you. “Pretty cool, right?” 

Scouring through the rubble, you popped a drawer and found a medic kit inside. Cracking it open, you told Kiri to sit. Her brothers did as well, watching intently. Lo’ak had a hand near his sheath, the handle of a blade glinting in the light. Your eyes flicked from his weapon to his face, and you turned away when you saw him watching you just as intently. 

It was a standard cut. Deeper than most, hence the extreme bleeding, but not fatal. You’d collected plants outside, familiar leaves that would sedate the pain. You talked to her about what you were doing, figuring it would put her more at ease. She talked back, seemingly knowing a few things about healing herself. 

“I’ve never seen anyone use this stitching pattern before.” When you finished, she held her arm up, eyes glistening with unshed tears, observing your technique.

“Since the wound was so deep, I used a tighter stitch. The thread won’t dissolve on its own, so in a few weeks you’ll have to get them removed.” You shut the kit, returning it to the drawer. “Don’t mess with it and you’ll be fine.” 

You were feeling better, stronger, than you were when you woke up. You turned towards the window, suddenly. “I think someone’s coming,” you told them, and they all turned away from you to peer out the window. 

When they turned back, you were gone. 

Lo’ak couldn’t believe they fell for something so stupid. On the trek back home, he kept shaking his head at himself. “I mean, it’s so fucking dumb.” 

“How about we leave that part out when we tell mom and dad. It’s too embarrassing.” Kiri ran her fingers over her new stitches. 

“We’ll just say we let her go. It’s technically not a lie,” Spider added. 

But his parents didn’t buy it for one second. 

The three of them stood in front of thir family, telling their story with sweeping hand movements and talking over each other, only to be met with silence and narrowed eyes. Neteyam biting his lip to keep from grinning, Tuk complaining that she hadn’t been invited along on the adventure. 

“So, what I’m hearing,” his father turned away from where he’d been kindling his fire. “Is that you got caught in the middle of someone else’s fight, endangered your life by entering that fight, got Kiri injured, saved someone’s life, and then, after giving Kiri stitches, they just vanished.” 

“Yes,” Lo’ak said. “That’s exactly what happened.” 

Neteyam couldn’t muffle his laugh, though he went through a dramatic effort to disguise it as a cough. Lo’ak didn’t appreciate it, narrowing his eyes at his older brother. 

“Spider and Kiri were there. They can corroborate my story.” 

“It’s true,” Spider interjected. 

Kiri nodded. He knew his father would be hesitant to believe him or Spider, justifiable on most occasions but a nuisance in this case, so Kiri was their chance at convincing him. “She was running from these people—they had guns, I think they kidnapped her—and she went right over the edge of this cliff. If Lo’ak hadn’t caught her, she would’ve fallen to her death.” 

Lo’ak straightened his shoulders. 

That’s right. He did that.

Good for him. 

“And she knew a lot about healing! We talked for a bit about herbal remedies and different stitching methods. She taught me a different way to close a wound, which will be useful.” Kiri displayed her cut for her parents to see, though it seemed to have a negative reaction. Neytiri’s ears flattened, and his father’s jaw clenched. Kiri kept talking, too caught up in her story to notice. “She had this beautiful white hair—” 

Neytiri’s hands slipped from where she was skinning some fruit, the knife clattering to the dirt. Eyes wide, she looked up at her daughter. “White, like atokirina?” 

Kiri nodded enthusiastically. 

Confused, Lo’ak shared a glance with his father. “Do you recognize her?” he asked, turning away from his precious fire. 

“They’re from the arctic regions in the North,” Neytiri explained. “Natural born healers. The entire tribe is peaceful, a safe haven for the injured. Their hair is white because they’re thought to be like atokirina, seeds from the Tree of Souls.” 

The three kids went silent, considering the new information. 

“So, is she like, a spirit?” Lo’ak asked lamely. 

“A descendent of one.” 

He and Spider leaned across Kiri to punch each other in the shoulders, laughing. “Bro, you saved the life of a spirit.” 

“She should’ve stuck around longer. Maybe she would’ve granted me a wish or something.” 

Kiri rolled her eyes, pressing her hands to their chests and pushing them away from her. “You’re both so stupid.” 

“Hey, Kiri, maybe she healed you with magic.” Lo’ak grabbed her forearm to observe the stitches more closely, but she ripped her arm out of his grip. 

“Don’t touch me, asshole.” 

“Language,” Jake piped. 

“You’re very lucky,” Neytiri went back to skinning her fruit, occasionally cutting off a slice when Tuk tugged at her arm. 

“I’m the one who saved her life, she’s the lucky one.” 

Spider snickered, and Kiri shook her head. “You can be such a dick, Lo’ak.” 

“Language!”

The conversation shifted over dinner, but Lo’ak’s mind strayed to the healer. He had seen you fight, before you went over the edge of the cliff. It was vicious. The snap of a neck, a bullet between the eyes. You didn’t seem like a healer, or a spirit. More like a desperate animal gnawing off their own leg to escape a snare.

Who were those people, and why were they after you?

And the fear in your eyes when you saw them in the cave. He equated spirits with power and calmness. Gentle. You seemed to be anything but as you stood in front of him, dripping in blood. 

His curiosity got the best of him. After the rest of his family dozed off, he slipped away, the silver moonlight filtering through the trees and lighting his path as he returned to the cave. 

It’s not like he was expecting you to still be there, but he let out a long sigh and his shoulders slumped when he saw that the area was empty and untouched. Exactly how they left it. 

“So dumb,” he muttered to himself as he kicked a rock, cursing himself for falling for your stupid trick earlier. 

The cave was a lot scarier at night, a deep void that light from the stars couldn’t penetrate. He slid into the shadows, remembering how fast his heart was pounding as he brought you to where Spider was helping Kiri apply pressure to your wound. 

“Look what I found.” 

You hung limp over his shoulder. You’d already lost consciousness when he caught you on his Ikra, though you’d woken a few times, struggling in his grip. It was easy for him to keep you restrained, and your weak hands pressing against him did little to loosen his grip on you. You fell back under again and didn’t wake up. 

Kiri looked at him like he’d been the one to put you in that state. “What did you do.” 

He hoisted you back over his shoulder, gently putting you back on the ground. “Hey, a little appreciation would be nice. If it weren’t for me, she wouldn’t be breathing.” 

They debated on what to do with you. Hide you under some leaves, wait for you to come-to on your own. Take you back to his family. After a solid fifteen minutes of arguing, they settled for tying your hands and waiting for you to regain consciousness before making any other decisions regarding you. 

And then you used the easiest trick in the book to get them to look away for one moment, just one millisecond, and you were gone. 

“Where the fuck did she go?” he’d asked, standing up so quickly he nearly knocked himself off his feet. 

“She was just here.” Spider spun in a circle, as if you were hiding in a cabinet. 

Kiri stifled her laugh. “I can’t believe we fell for that.” 

And, yeah. Maybe Lo’ak wanted to talk to you more. It’d been so long since he’d met someone new. Not to mention, your situation seemed exciting. Running from men with guns, able to hold your own in a fight, a healer. Who were you? He wanted to know. 

Pulled out of the memory by something sharp underneath his foot, Lo’ak jumped back. He bent down, scooping the object up in his hands. It was a necklace. 

He’d never seen it before, and he turned it over in his hands as he hoisted himself into a tree and rested on a branch. Holding it up to the light, he squinted at it, trying to discern where it came from. 

Maybe it was yours. 

The thought ignited a flicker of hope. If it was yours, it was probably meaningful to you, and you might come back for it. 

He found a hollowed-out log close enough to the cave and set the jewelry inside. Somewhere easy enough for you to find, but difficult for an animal to get to. 

Days passed. Neteyam didn’t believe him. 

“I’m not calling you a liar,” his older brother said as he pulled his bow string taught, aiming at the pool at the bottom of the waterfall. He let the arrow fly. “But I am saying you’re delusional.” 

“Scared I’m going to take your place as the mighty warrior of the family?” Lo’ak laid back on the rock, tilting his face towards the warm sun. “I mean, how many spirits have you rescued?” 

“She’s not a spirit; she’s the descendant of one.” Neteyam grabbed the fish he hunted, adding it to his collection. “Are you going to help me at all or just scare off all the prey?” 

Lo’ak ignored him. “If she lives all the way up North, how’d she get here?” he shook his head, musing. “I bet it’s a good story.” 

Neteyam sighed, shaking his head and rolling his eyes up towards the sky. “Too bad you’ll never get to hear it.” He threw a dead fish at Lo’ak, laughing when his brother rolled away from it, jumping after him. 

But deep down, it bothered Lo’ak that no one believed him, Kiri, and Spider. He was telling the truth. And he had to prove it. 

“She’s not here,” Spider complained. 

“I just want to see.” 

Always willing to participate in Lo’ak’s antics, he knew Spider was curious about you, too. And when the two of them peered into the hollowed log, they found your necklace was not there. 

His heart kicked in excitement. “See! See!” he did a victory lap, jogging around the small clearing and whooping in victory. He stopped and pointed at the empty place where the necklace used to be. “I’m telling you! You saw the state she was in. She couldn’t have gone far.” 

“An animal could’ve taken it.” 

Lo’ak shook his head. “No. She was here.” 

They both looked up at the trees, as if you’d reveal yourself. They observed every inch of their surroundings, checking for tracks or other lost belongings, but you left no trace behind besides the missing necklace. 

Lo’ak rode that high for several more days. He checked back every afternoon, sometimes alone, other times bringing Kiri or Spider, and Tuk on one occasion. He knew you were still hiding in his forest. Between the leaves, hiding just outside his peripheral. If he could figure out a way to coax you out, get you to show yourself just one more time, he wouldn’t make the same mistake twice. 

And then he could rub it in his family’s face. 

See? he’d tell them, brandishing you like a sword. I’m not crazy!

But his best efforts were futile. No matter how much plotting he did, trying to lure you out with food or other bait, you never bit down on his hook. He grew frustrated. 

And then Tuk got sick. 

Like, really sick. 

Even Mo’at looked worried as she cared for his little sister, Neytiri and Jake doing little other than staying at her bedside. 

Lo’ak’s outings to the cave became reprieve from the sick den and the suffocating grief of his family. When he went out alone, he would talk to you. Tell you what was going on in his life. Before, it was mundane things. Like how Spider tried to make an ambitious jump and ate absolute shit in the process. Or how his father taught him how to use a gun and throw a punch. 

But now Tuk knocked at death’s door, and he had no idea if she would be turned away or let inside, and he started talking about that instead. He didn’t know if you were listening. He swore up and down that he could feel you, a second heartbeat assisting his own, but he had nothing to show for it besides that one incident. 

He escaped one afternoon after he saw Kiri crying, unable to take the emotional weight placed on his family. Lo’ak paced around the clearing, breathing heavy, looking up at the trees. “If you’re there,” he started, angry, “just give me a goddamn sign.” 

No response, but a soft breeze through the leaves. 

 “Some fucking healer you are,” he taunted before he left.

That night, he laid awake next to Tuk, and regretted yelling at you. As if you were even there to hear him. 

Tomorrow, he promised himself. Tomorrow is the last day I’ll go back. After that, I’ll let it go. 

It was a bad morning for Tuk. She wouldn’t stop coughing, her blood staining the handkerchief. 

He stomped the whole way back to the site. He was mad again. He ripped back the leaves he used to cover the hollow log, bracing himself for another wave of disappointment. 

His fury dissipated in the air. 

A scratch piece of paper read “For your little sister. Take one each day. Mix with honey to help with the taste.” Next to the note laid a collection of small vials, all filled with a deep green liquid. 

“It could be poison.” Mo’at shook her head, shoving the vial away. “Too risky.” 

“It’s not,” Lo’ak promised, unable to look at where Tuk lay. 

“How can you be sure?” 

He would’ve launched into the whole story, but his grandmother was a tough nut to crack, and telling her it was a mystery vial left in a log might not be the best approach. 

“She’s going to die if we don’t do something.” He set the supposed medicine on the table. “This is our only option.” 

His parents mulled it over. Neytiri eyed the vial, holding it up to the light. Jake rested a comforting hand on Lo’ak’s shoulder. “Are you absolutely sure she’s the one that left this?” 

She, meaning you. Lo’ak nodded. He could feel it, as sure as Eywa’s presence. 

Jake and Neytiri shared a look. His grandmother pursed her lips. 

The first day brought no noticeable improvements. 

By the third day, Tuk could open her eyes again. 

On the tenth day, she spoke for the first time in a month. 

By the last vial, she was herself again. 

“Gross,” she wrinkled her nose at the smell. Even mixed with honey, it tasted bitter, and she’d grown tired of it. 

“Last one,” Neytiri promised, arm wrapped around her youngest.

The weight over his family lifted. 

Throughout Tuk’s healing process, he didn’t have the time to return to the cave. But once all the vials were empty, he collected them and raced with Kiri back to the site. 

He kept one, hoping its absence would be enough to make you reveal yourself. After setting them in the log, he hesitated before leaving. 

“I don’t think we’re ever going to actually see her again,” Kiri told him as they shared lunch in the clearing. 

“We don’t know that.” 

“If she hasn’t shown herself yet, I doubt she wants to.” She peeled an orange, handing him a slice. 

He shrugged. “Who knows.” Spoken with a smile, there was no doubt in his mind that he could find a way to get you to reveal yourself again. He just had to be smart about it, trick you into making a mistake. 

Lo’ak left a note with the vials. “You still owe me for saving your life.” 

The debt was more than repaid, considering you’d brought Tuk back from the brink of death. But you didn’t need to know that. Kiri gave him a flat look when he placed the note inside the log, shaking her head at him. “I think she’s smarter than that.” 

Lo’ak shushed her with a finger to his lips. “She could be listening.” He pointed up towards the trees with a grin. 

Kiri narrowed her eyes at him. “Don’t shush me.” 

They bickered the entire way home. 

A weird sort of trading system began. Lo’ak still liked to talk to you when he visited alone, and he found the objects you left for him in the log corresponded with his stories sometimes. 

A tiny knife, useful for skinning fish and picking out their tiny bones when he mentioned he was having trouble with that.  

A thread and needle when he mentioned Kiri wanted practice replicating your stitching patterns. 

A bunch of bright orange leaves when he told you about how one of his friends pierced his own ears and it got infected, accompanied with more instructions. “Chew and place on the piercing. Make sure to disinfect the needle next time.” 

He left things for you, too. It was harder, since you weren’t talking to him, and he knew nothing about you. But he tried.

Tuk liked making jewelry when she wasn’t busy annoying the shit out of Lo’ak. He left bracelets, earrings, anklets, and necklaces in the place of whatever you left for him. 

Hair combs cast aside by others. He picked things off of the sky people’s ship. Stuff that wasn’t interesting to him, but maybe you would like it, and no one would miss it, so there was no harm done. 

But, in typical Lo’ak fashion, he grew impatient. 

He’d more than proved that he wasn’t a threat, he thought. The trading was fun, and it was exciting to have something to constantly think about. He was always on the lookout for things you might like. But it would be a lot more fun if you would just show yourself and return with him to his home. Then you could find things together, and he wouldn’t feel like an idiot, talking to himself all the time. 

With each new trade, his curiosity only intensified. 

“I have to know who she is,” Lo’ak explained one day when he dragged Neteyam and Spider out to the site. 

“I don’t think she feels the same about you, little brother.”

“You don’t get it.” 

Today was the day, he decided that morning. He’d been cooking up a plan. It was his turn to put something in the log, which meant you’d have to come out and get it. Your trades grew more frequent, there was something new every day now. 

It was exciting. And frustrating. You were right there, so close to him, and still so far out of reach. He wouldn’t be able to rest until he saw you again, he decided. Then maybe he could let this weird hyper fixation on you and your life go. But he had to have at least one more conversation with you, first. 

This trade was valuable. At least, he thought so. Medical supplies his father brought back after visiting his military friends. State-of-the-art gauze and disinfectants and tourniquets. 

There’s no way you’d be able to resist coming out to grab it. And when you did, they’d be there, hidden in the foliage. 

“And what are you going to do when she comes out?” Neteyam asked. “Catch her in a net? Spring out at her like a predator?” 

“No,” Lo’ak countered. 

“You haven’t thought that far ahead, have you?” 

Spider laughed at that and Lo’ak gave him a look of betrayal. Spider was supposed to be on his side, not Neteyam’s. 

“Of course, I have,” he lied. “But we’re getting close, and she could be listening, so no more talking about the plan.” 

Neteyam and Spider snickered, though they heeded his request and made a covering of leaves and plants while he grabbed what you’d left for him in the log. A collection of arrows, the nice ones, crafted with care. 

A gift for his mother.

He wondered if you’d made them yourself, or found them, or did someone give them to you. Shaking his head when his imagination drifted again, he focused on the task a hand. 

Joining his coconspirators under their cover, they shed their knives in a pile behind them. “If we’re covered in weapons when she sees us again, she’ll run.” 

“I think she’s going to run anyways.” 

They whispered back and forth, arguing for a few moments, before falling silent. 

Hours passed. 

They each grew restless, dramatically overestimating their ability to be quiet and still for such a long period of time. They gossiped about their family, other members of the Omaticayan tribe, whether a mountain banshee or a hammerhead titanothere would win in a fight. 

The original plot was to stay awake through the night. 

The three of them fell asleep within a few hours of darkness. 

Startled awake by a branch breaking close by, they jerked back into consciousness. Pushing himself up, Lo’ak cursed, abandoning the cover of the leaves, and rushed for the log. 

“Wait,” Neteyam hissed after him. “It could be dangerous.” 

But Lo’ak didn’t care, peering inside. Blowing out a long sigh, he turned back to his friends, who stood on either side of him, also looking in. “It’s still there.” 

Neteyam shook his head and trudged back to the makeshift blind. “This is pointless. We’re not going to catch her.” 

Lo’ak lifted his head, looking through the trees ahead. It was dark, the forest alive with bugs chirping and birds fluttering about overhead. Spider placed a hand on his shoulder. “We can try again some other time.”

“Yeah,” Lo’ak replied, but he didn’t bother to hide the disappointment in his voice. 

Neteyam’s voice cut through the noise of the woods around them. “Spider, did you grab our knives?” 

“No, I just left them where they were, right behind us.” 

Another beat of silence, and then Neteyam was laughing. “Well, I think your friend decided to pay us a visit after all.” 

Lo’ak and Spider joined him by their camp, staring at the place where their knives used to be. 

They were stolen. 

Lo'ak froze. Spider joined in the laughter. 

“It’s not funny!” Lo’ak snapped, which only caused them to laugh harder. “Shut up! It’s not funny!” 

Neteyam nudged him, smiling wide. “She’s smarter than you, bro.” 

“Smarter than you, too,” he countered, shoving Neteyam back with a hiss. 

Lo’ak couldn’t believe it. 

At first, your little game was cute. 

Exciting, even. 

But now Lo’ak clenched his fists at his side, muscles tense, filled with the urge to break something. 

He couldn’t believe this. They turned their backs for one second, again, and you’d struck. He was certain you were watching now, laughing down at him. 

Turning over his shoulder, he stomped back over to the log. “Whatever,” he called back to Neteyam and Spider. “I’m taking this back.” 

Except, when he reached in to grab the medicine kit, that was gone, too. 

“No way,” he drawled, staggering back as if he’d been shocked. When Neteyam and Spider asked him what happened, he was so angry, he didn’t even answer. 

Spider reached inside, eyes light with curiosity. “Well, shit." He pulled out two knives.

“She’s fast,” Neteyam remarked, sliding his knife back into his holder. “Don’t worry, skxawng, I’m sure she’ll return yours soon enough.” He and Spider snickered, and Lo’ak decided he had to fight them both.

Even his dad got a kick out of the story. “Seems like you’ve met your match,” he said with a wink, Neytiri hiding a smile behind a sip of her tea. 

How could you have gotten the best of them two times in one night, in the span of ten minutes? 

His anger fueled him for several days. His sleep was fitful, full of tossing and turning. He ranted about you to everyone who would listen, until even Spider grew tired of him. 

“Just let it go, man,” he told Lo’ak one day. “It’s never going to happen.” 

And to rub salt in the wound, you stopped trading with him entirely. 

For all he knew, the incident with the knives was the last interaction you two would ever have. 

The thought devastated him more than it should’ve. How could he be this dejected over someone he’d only had one conversation with? Who had bruised his ego and gotten the best of him several times now?

Time passed. Instead of the gaping wound you used to be, you became a scab he picked at. He occasionally still visited the site but didn’t have much time for it after the sky people returned with a vengeance. 

Which is how he ended up with his knees shoved into the wet dirt, a gun pressed to the back of his skull. 

“Leave the others here.” Lo’ak guessed this fool was the leader, judging by the way he listed off commands and his spineless cronies followed suit like puppets on a string. He gestured towards Lo’ak with a flippant wave of his hand. “Take that one to the cells.” 

“No, Lo’ak,” Kiri gasped, his siblings struggling against their restraints. He fought the panic of being separated from them but could do little to stop it from happening. His parents and Neteyam were on their way, and knowing his mother, he’d be free in an hour.  

Lo’ak kept a steady stream of insults flowing as they guided him through the ship, calling the soldiers every name in the book. It didn’t help him, though it did make him feel better, and the guards only grew more violent as they opened the cell and shoved him inside. 

He whirled on them, as if he could run out before the door sealed shut, but it was too late. He kicked at the clear door, his hands still restrained in front of him, cursing. 

“That’s not going to help.” 

The interruption shocked him. He hadn’t noticed anyone else in the cell, distracted by the soldiers that imprisoned him. 

But he’d recognize your voice anywhere. 

imagine luke and hades!reader who has a hellhound as a protector bc she’s a big 3 kid. this hellhound is very protective so this got me thinking. imagine the r is going at it with luke, and luke makes her moan and barely a second later, this hellhound is clawing at the door and barking bc it thinks r is hurt, when really it’s the opposite.

idk just a thought i had :)

want to make it known that @gh0stsp1d3r has written a hades!reader w a hellhound concept as well

your moan is still echoing around the empty barn whenever you hear the first scratch. at first, you attribute it to nothing, choosing to focus on the long and steady strokes luke is pushing up into your gut.

but when you groan at the feeling of luke pushing down on your lower abdomen, making you feel the outline of him within you, you hear the scratching again, this time paired with a whimper you recognize well.

"wait, luke." he's quick to stop, curls flopping as he looks up at you with his eyebrows pinched together.

"what?"

with the wet sounds of your cunt and the shared groans between you and luke eliminated, you can hear the sound of an upset dog on the other side of the bolted barn doors.

you don't have to be looking at luke to know he's frowning whenever you start to push him away. he doesn't go far, though, only unsheathing himself just to the tip.

"drac?" your voice elicits another whimper from the dog on the other side of the door.

you turn back to luke with a pout on your lips. "luke, he's sad. he wants to come in."

luke, clearly not as fond of your hellhound as you are, scoffs and pushes you to lay back down.

"so he can try to bite me as soon as i touch you?"

you hit his shoulder halfheartedly. you intended for there to be more power behind the jab, but it's then that luke sinks back into you and your limbs have a tendency to turn to mush whenever your boyfriend fucks you.

"that was ..." it takes you a moment and loads of determination to finish your sentence. "that was one time."

"one time too many." luke dips his head to suck on the spot that always clears your mind. psychological warfare that works up until dracula barks.

you're whining when you tell luke that you should at least go check up on him. eventually, he sighs, lets up on your skin, and faces you with his lips turned down and his eyes a little emotionless.

"lemme at least make you cum and then we can all go play a nice game of fetch. okay?"

you're quick to agree, laying back complaisantly and holding up your half of the deal so luke can do the same.

Here's Stiles finding his best friend's Tumblr! I did not reread this or edit it, so I apologize for any mistakes. @inlovewithdob

Stiles Stilinski who opens Tumblr on his laptop, glancing over at his bedroom door to double-check that it's locked. Oftentimes, his scrolling leads him to discover a menagerie of explicit pictures and videos, thanks to the correlating tags he just so happens to follow. He may or may not have an addiction...

Stiles Stilinski who shoves his hand into his unzipped jeans, keeping his other hand on the touchpad so he can continue browsing with ease. Meanwhile, he grips his dick as it begins to get more firm and the tip of his tongue pokes out between his cherry lips, indicating his focus.

Stiles Stilinski who lets out soft grunts while he jerks himself off at the sight of such beautiful women and the spicy messages written below some of them. He loves how they feed his imagination with quotes like, "I'll be good for you, I promise," and, "Wet and ready, just the way you like me, huh?" because, in a way, he almost feels like those beautiful women are really there, really saying those things to him.

Stiles Stilinski who's getting close, who can't contain his whimpers, who feels so hard that he might explode.

Stiles Stilinski who freezes at the sight of his best friend - the girl who's completely naked and smiling innocently as she kneels on the ground for the camera. He knows exactly where in her room she is in the picture, but that's not what he's focused on. No, his eyes are glued to two soft tits, her delicate, intimate skin. His face is burning red because he knows that it's wrong, he knows he shouldn't be looking. He should have scrolled away as soon as he saw it. But his hand begins to slowly slide up and down his dick again...

Stiles Stilinski who clicks on her account and drops his jaw at the sight of many more photos. His dick throbs in his hand. He didn't know she could look this good in so many positions. He also didn't know that he'd be lucky enough to click on a video of his best friend riding her own fingers and sensually moaning. She's sitting on her bed this time, a place he has sat and laid on countless times. His dick throbs again.

Stiles Stilinski who is too invested now. He could cum at any second, but he chooses not to. His hand releases its grip, bringing himself back from the edge as he keeps scrolling. His finds are some of the best porn he's ever seen; he doesn't want to cut this moment short. He wants to take it all in, take her all in. And he does. Over and over again, teetering on the edge of his bliss, he pleasures himself with the discovery of his best friend's nudes.

Stiles Stilinski who loves the guilt because it just makes it all that much hotter. He knows he shouldn't be doing this, he knows she'd freak out if he confessed, and that's part of what's turning him on so much right now. It's a dangerous game, but that adrenaline only feeds him more ecstasy when he finally lets himself cum, making an utter atrocity in his jeans.

Stiles Stilinski who can't believe he just did what he did when he comes down from his high, shutting his laptop and staring at the uncomfortable wet spot on his crotch. It was like he was hypnotized. He found out that his best friend posts porn on Tumblr and he had the best orgasm of his life.

His addiction may or may not have just escalated.

can u do 13 & 48 w elliot?

pulling your lover closer by the waistband

a kiss that lasts longer than it should

-

It was supposed to be quick goodbye kiss before going home, but as you were kissing in the foyer, Elliot had pulled you closed by waistband of your jeans, pulling your bodies flush together. A small, breathy gasp left your lips when he rolled his hips against you.

Elliot's cousin was out and you were thankful. You didn't want her to witness her horny cousin humping you. It would be embarrassing - for you and her.

You knew what he wanted, but you couldn’t git it to him. Your curfew was in fifteen minutes and you had already lied to your parents about a school project with Rue - there was no school project. You couldn’t risk her calling the Bennetts’ to check if you were on your way. 

''I gotta go, baby,'' you said with a pout, breaking from your boyfriend's lips.

He whined and kissed your jaw, trailing down your neck. ''Just one more minute.''

You giggled and tangled your fingers in his blond curls, staying for a few more kisses.

-

Tag-list:  @milkiane  @euphoricfeminine

Elliot tag-list: @adashipsjegulus @lovesanimals0000  @ellyskey @barbietiingz

no. 1 smut with argyle 🤭

1: “do you think of me when you touch yourself?”

Girl im so sorry but im just, dom reader for sure here. I just I'm sorry but it's necessary bc we all know argyles a simp, best friends to lovers YUH. This one is honestly more sweet, not a ton of smut but its cause i too am a simp and i havent written much for argyle so yk i gotta get the simp shit out first before i unleash the whore kraken

WARNINGS: mentions of male, hand job/blow job, eye contact, def dom!reader vibes, sub!argyle vibes (hes just down bad and a simp), wet dreams tee hee

Join the Sleepover

Tonight was no different from any other night that Argyle crashed at Y/n's. The two had been best friends since the fourth grade-they'd practically grown up together. But lately things have felt a little different-at least for Argyle-and by lately that meant the past six months when with the help of Jonathan he realized that he was actually really into Y/n.

Apparently it wasn't normal to talk about how sweet, pretty, and interesting your best friend is every single day, nor is it normal to constantly call the guys she dated "annoying douchebags that wear knockoffs" or "fake skater surfer boys".

So he knew the truth, he was into her, sure that changed things for him, when they smoked-regardless of where-his eyes would focus on her lips for long periods of time and anytime she touched him it was like a jolt of electricity sent through his entire figure. Not to mention the way he found himself checking her out-eyes glued to her curves anytime she asked him how she looked, and the most recent shameful development.

The dreams. He'd dream about being with her, about fucking into her as she laid below him, his hair brushing against one of her shoulders while she looked up at him with parted lips and hooded eyes. The way she'd moan and whimper his name as her nails scratched along his arms and back, or the way she'd look on top, biting her bottom lip the same way she did when she rolled, all the while she massaged her own tits, eyes held on his. The worst dreams though-were the ones where she was on her knees, staring up at him as her tongue trailed along his cock.

She always looked so pretty like that, mascara stained cheeks as she looked at him through her lashes.

The only thing that made tonight different was when Y/n woke up at two in the morning and went to grab some water, as she crawled back into her bed she heard it-the first low whimper from his sleeping figure, then it happened again, this one a little louder-more of a groan and she had no idea what to do-her eyes wide as she stared.

Then he moaned her name-it wasn't loud but it was coherent and clear-he was having a wet dream about her and it turned her on, her body engulfed in a white heat as she stared, her lips parted now. She opted to wake him up, gently shaking his shoulder "Argyle, argyle get up" her harsh whispers were the first thing he heard as he stirred away-her face a few inches from his.

"Wha-what happened?" she raised a brow "you tell me, sounds like your dream was interesting" she was teasing him, her sultry tone had his eyes widening and brows raising-a look of shock and embarrassment on his face "y/n-hey man it's not what it sounds like okay-i just-you-we-shit okay you caught me" she giggled and shushed him.

"I have a question do you think of me when you touch yourself?” he didn't know how to answer that, blinking several times in shock, still processing that this was real and not just his dream "yeah-obviously" then he placed a hand on her cheek, gently caressing it before sliding along her throat then her shoulder, her brows knit together "what're you doing?" she couldn't help her giggle. "making sure you're real"

"I'm definitely real" he nodded his head "yeah-your skins really soft" she rolled her eyes, a smile on her face as she glanced at the evident tent under her sheets, his thin shorts doing nothing to restrain him. "can i help you with that?" he nodded his head "please-oh shit" he groaned as her hand slid down his bare chest, then below the sheets and the waistband of his shorts.

His head lulled back as she palmed him, biting his bottom lip while he shut his eyes "look at me baby" her dominance was evident, he immediately opened his eyes, looking at her face, holding eye contact as she grasped the base of his thick cock, then she started slowly pumping her hand along his shaft-thumb running over the tip over and over again, small whimpers and groans leaving his lips.

Then she moved from her spot, sliding the sheets down-pulling him out of his shorts, repositioning herself between his thighs, laying flat on her stomach, her legs kicked up in the air as she stared at him. The moonlight shining through her blinds reflecting against her figure-and he swore he had to be dreaming.

She ran her tongue along the underside of his cock, then she swirled it around his tip, gliding against the slit-gathering every drop of precum and his mind was officially fuzzy while he watched her. Then she took him into her mouth, hollowing her cheeks, opting to take him further and further-until he was hitting the back of her throat.

He bit into his fist to stop his loud moans from coming out, his hooded eyes focused on her while she stared up at him-a few tears leaving her eyes as she took him down her throat-gagging around him. She let him go, then brought him back down her throat again-keeping the same rhythm up until she felt his cock twitching, then she took him out of her mouth, opting to wrap her hand around him-jerking him off while she stared at him.

Then she took him into her mouth again, sucking on the tip, his groans getting harder to hold back "y/n-baby-I'm gonna cum and fuck I don't know if you want me to in your mouth-like i don't wanna be rude or anything dude" she pulled him out of her mouth, biting her bottom lip and raising a brow "i want it down my throat"

He rubbed a hand over his face "oh god man-you really can't talk to me like that when you're this close to my dick" she giggled, rolling her eyes playfully before taking him back down her throat-he only lasted a few seconds after that.

Then once she swallowed and finished running her tongue along his cock-cleaning him up, she tucked him back into his shorts and laid back down, this time opting to rest her head against his chest.

"You wanna go on a date or somethin?" she giggled "yeah-i'd like that"

A Dare’s a Dare

Elliot x Reader

Warnings: Smutty smut smutt & also a try at some plot…pray he never sees this

a/n: whew…hey guys. long time no SEE! it’s been a hot minute & i’m so sorry about that. please accept this gift as an apology…i didn’t even mean to make this so long, & i definitely still need to make corrections, but alas, here we are. please enjoy & maybe leave a comment? i love reading your guys reactions/thoughts! :)

a/a/n: wait, also, can we talk about cochella? because i was SAT! mama’s boy is already my favoritee. ok, sry, enjoy <3

¥

One of the lightbulbs in the bathroom flicker as you lean down to sniff a line of coke off the porcelain sink. Then it blows out. You told Elliot weeks ago that it needed to be replaced, but as usual, his “I’ll get to it.” gets lost in all the other bullshit he spews. 

Throwing your head back, you scrunch your nose and sniff. Not yet used to the burn.

Unrolling the five-dollar bill, you shake it out and shove it in your pocket. He left it in the bathroom for you anyway. You do a quick sweep around to make sure there’s nothing that can show what’s been going on in here, swipe the powder off your tight long sleeve, and walk out. 

The music that was once muffled behind the door is now clear as you sway to the beat on your way back into Elliot’s room, Jules and Rue sitting on his bed with a joint between Rue’s lips. 

“Ooo, that the vanilla backwood–” You start, then stop when warm hands grab your face, and your lips are pressed against another pair. It happens so fast that you barely have time to process it before the warm body moves away. You stumble and look up. 

Elliot. 

Keep reading

because you’re mine (it seems like we’re meant to be)

reader x elliot // bonfire fluff

warnings: drugs , alcohol use

a/n : i know this is very random, considering i’m a bts account, but recently euphoria has been giving me motivation to write, so feel free to request more!💫

the white shafts of daylight have passed, gone are the shadows of evening. flames from the fire rise boldly against the black sky. before that great fire their skin is glowing red, orange and gold. every eye is reflecting the flickering light, each iris containing a small picture of the bonfire before them. yet, it isn’t simply just the sight that has you mesmerized, so too has the crackling and the woody fragrance of smoke. you end up being put in front of elliot’s legs, feelings his knees against your back. you feel something press against your lips. as you look down to see a cup and elliot’s face, peering up at you imploringly as he offers the drink to you.of course, you take it, pulling it away to peer into the contents.

 “what is this?” you ask; it’s bright blue and looks like there’s glitter in it.

“i made it,” says elliot, and that’s enough of a reason to believe that you won’t die drinking it. so you knock back half of it in one go, swallowing and then frowning as you hand the cup back. 

“it’s supposed to taste like blueberry slushie, but i’m not sure if i got it right”.

you smack your lips. “tastes more like synthetic syrup” you admit, moving your hand to run your fingers over the nape of elliot’s neck.

his lips curl back into a hazy grin, reaching up to plant a kiss on your lips “i guess you’re right” elliot says moving back, but you kiss him back, a little harder than necessary; you’re not nearly drunk enough, but you kiss elliot like that anyway.“alright, alright,” rue calls. “don’t start fucking with all of us here”

elliot pulls back, turning to look at her, then pecks your cheek smiling, “there’s a first time for everything.”

beside rue, lexi makes a pained noise and immediately gets up. 

you pull back from elliot just enough, although you’re still tangled together as the rest of you dissolve into another conversation.

you let yourself listen to the lazy conversation as elliot wraps himself around you, clingier than usual thanks to the alcohol. elliot can still remember the new year’s eve, when you’ve crushed through the door trying to find rue, as cliche as it sounds, he knew you’ll mean a lot to him in the near future. 

and you did, still do.

maybe it was inevitable, then, for you to fall together the way you did—under the stars, and the entire world at your feet. when you kissed him for the first time out there, elliot told you it was probably a bad idea. but as soon as your lips met, both knew, there was no going back.you bring the joint to your lips and inhaling before you let out a long stream of smoke as you stare up at the stars.

there’s a light touch of elliot’s fingers caressing your sides.

you look up at him with that same lazy grin; there’s only the light of the moon and the fire, but it’s enough to see the way elliot looks at you. 

you want to blame it on the alcohol and the drugs, but elliot always kind of looks at you like he can’t believe you are real, like no high or euphoria could ever compare. you understand. it’s the way you look at him, too.

you take another drag of your joint and then lift your chin up, and elliot gets it immediately, leaning down and over you until your lips are nearly touching. you hold it for a second, at least until elliot gets impatient and bites your bottom lip, and then you open your mouth and breathe the smoke into his mouth. you can feel elliot grinning as your lips brush together, and then you lift your head up an inch to press your lips together into a kiss.by the time you resurface—or elliot pulls away, letting you back into the rest of the world, because it’s always hard to focus on anything else—the others have started their own conversation.

“you two are making me sick,” says nate.

“you’re fucking sick,” says fez.

you’re too lost in your own thoughts, brought back to the present only by elliot tickling your chin, leaning in and whispering, “are you sleeping?”

you grin, keeping your eyes closed as you murmurs “just thinking.”

“about?”

you hum. “you.”

elliot kisses your nose. you finally open your eyes, looking up at elliot looking down at you.

“i love you, you know,” says elliot, not taking his eyes off you.

you thumb at the corners of elliot’s mouth,“ i love you too,” you answer, breathless.

telling some guy that you’re celibate but you tell clark he can nail your shit 🎶🎶

“celibate.”

the word left your lips so often it didn’t even feel like a word anymore. any time a guy got too close, any time there was a guy you didn’t want to touch you — celibate. you were celibate. yes it is a choice, no you can’t change my mind.

you had needs, of course you did — needs you were mostly happy with fulfilling yourself, because lord knows the guys around you wouldn’t know how to please you. you heard the horror stories from your girl friends, about how they’d get jack hammered for 3 minutes, or if they’re lucky — two fingers jammed inside them, digging for loose change between couch cushions. you were happy to be alone.

you often wondered how men could feel such uncontrollable lust, the type that makes them say such vulgar things out loud. all the disgusting terms you’d learnt, you’d learnt from the disgraceful propositions you’d received, or ‘compliments’ that you were meant to be thankful for. “i’d nail her shit.” one says when you walk by him. you’re more interested by his word choice than anything.

all of a sudden you understand when clark comes around. the ridiculous tidal wave of lust that filled your body. your poor virgin hole that would quiver when he’d smile humbly at you in passing or help lift something heavy, biceps rippling. you’d watched him peel his sweaty tshirt off his body whilst mowing the grass on the farm enough times for you to be able to memorise how it looks perfectly in your mind when you’re furiously rubbing yourself at night time. you were beginning to feel less in control. you were beginning to feel less celibate.

you know he’d look after you. he was respectful and competent and big in all the ways that left nothing to the imagination. he wouldn’t pressure you, he’d take the time to learn all your spots — just the thought had you pressing your legs together, and soon it was too much to handle. you became drunk on the thought of him having you, soon enough winding up in his barn, pawing at him, whining.

“i just want it to be you, clark i — i trust you!” you almost groan, gripping at his shirt, wanting to feel his skin.

“hey, what’s gotten into you?” he asks, voice filled with concern, tone still gentle as he wraps ginormous fingers around your wrists and effortlessly pries you off, trying to level himself with you. “you said you were celibate, i — i think it’s important you stick to your own rules, you know? you don’t wanna do anything you regret down the line.” he has the audacity to blush adorably, placing two hands on the tops of your arms to steady you incase you try to lurch for him again.

you were so needy that embarrassment had evaded you and tears filled your eyes. you shake your head.

“i only said that to guys because i didn’t want them, i… i want you clark, please.” you sound defeated and he softens, staring at you as he susses you out. you suck in a gulp, eyes fluttering as you ready yourself to repeat the vulgar words you once had placed upon you. “‘want you to nail my shit.” it comes out slightly rushed, slurred, bordering on a desperate groan. his eyebrows lift.

“you…what? you taught you that, sweet girl?” he’s babying you now and it’s not helping, cupping your cheek in concern— because who on earth could teach such an innocent girl such foul language?

“clark…” you manage a whisper, this time taking his hand. he allows you now, eyes curiously following as you shakily drag it to your crotch before stuffing it into your panties, shuddering at the feeling of his coarse fingers sliding experimentally over your slit until it finds the sticky honeypot of arousal at the centre of the fabric, soaking through obscenely.

“wow… you really need it, huh?” he breathes, voice laced with awe.

“you, i need you.” you correct, matching his tone as you search his eyes for any more hesitation. his confidence returns, falling back into his regular calm and self assured self as he adjusts to the situation.

“well i think i can help you explore that. why don’t you lay down over here?”

fuck valentine's day - elliot x gn!reader

posted feb 10th, 2024 10:10 pm

here's another belated valentine's blurb but this one's superduper short and also one for a character i wouldn't typically write for! but i felt like this one was meant to be ooc elliot from euphoria so here you are :)

masterlist

not proofread!

wordcount: 0.4k

“I hate Valentine’s Day.” You murmured, the sound of Elliot’s chuckle filled your ears, smoke escaping his mouth and swirling throughout his bedroom. “Fuck Valentine’s Day,” Elliot agreed through his quiet laughter. 

A few minutes had passed since your agreement, The feeling of Elliot’s head landing on your thigh caught your attention as you looked down at him. “Why do we hate Valentine’s Day?” Elliot’s question was quiet and almost teasing as he sideways smirked up at you. He hummed when your hand found his bleached curls, lightly tugging. “Cause, it sucks,” you mumbled back.

He hummed again, closing his eyes. Elliot knew it wouldn’t take long for you to continue so-

“It’s just dumb, flowers and chocolate and done up couples with their tongues down each other’s throats-” “You like it when my tongue is down your throat” Elliot cut you off with a mumble before groaning at the way you pulled his hair in response. “It’s just more effort for one day when really these should be normal things, you know?” You continued your rant, sighing as you played with your boyfriend’s hair. 

“I’ll buy you flowers and chocolates,” Elliot muttered, eyes still closed causing him to miss the way you smiled at his words. You know he probably didn’t mean it, too stoned to remember later on. All of this was probably going in one ear and out the other. It still felt nice to hear though.

The next afternoon had rolled around, leaving you excited to go home, and honestly? Go back to sleep. But now, you were met with a flat tire, causing you to get home a few minutes late.

Of course, you dread over this the entire way home, only forgetting about it when you make eye contact with a vase holding a mismatched bouquet, and the little heart-shaped box of plastic sitting in front of your door. You smiled softly, trying not to get too excited yet, you ditched your bike in the driveway and moved towards the nice gifts. Picking up the little note, you noticed that in scribbled handwriting wrote, 

“fuck Valentine’s Day - E”