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loaksky · 2 years ago

Text

— 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘣𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘶𝘴

the deets — in which you, a quiet healer in the tribe, have the biggest crush on the upcoming leader. sometimes you think the feelings could be mutual. until one night in the glowing forest shatters that.

the who — neteyam x fem omatikaya!reader

the word count — like 7.6k (jesus h. christ)

the tags — idiots-to-lovers (it's teyam, he's the dummy), childhood friends-to-lovers, one-sided pining (reader is a softie).

the warnings — language, a lil kithy kithy, neteyam's emotionally constipated, but he redeems himself! reader's kind of a pushover, but it comes full circle!

the notes — first post for avatar & i'm really excited but a lil nervous bc like ??? i haven't written fanfic in SO long. i imagine neteyam & reader to be a few years older in this fic (eighteen or nineteen), but at the same time the circumstances could fit their current age as well. finally, this is written in a heinous blend of second / third. don't know how to explain, but i think it flows okay? if you like it please leave a request or let's have a chat! (also barely proofread oops).

YOU AND NETEYAM HAVE ALWAYS BEEN IN DISTANT ORBIT. Many would argue the two of you are cut from the same cloth; quiet, noble, mature, but you couldn't feel even more disconnected from the tribe's golden boy even if a chasm would crack the earth between you.

It's why you think it's silly that you'd develop such a yearning, your heart thudding like a war drum every time his amber eyes flit to yours. There's never any weight to his gaze, just fleeting glances among frequent observation, but you can't help but stare.

It doesn't help that his youngest siblings cling to you like a second and third skin, chattering excitedly about whatever piques their immediate interest. You just listen and hum your acknowledgements, a comfort to the two as you move through your studies.

Oftentimes he's sent to fetch his siblings, clearing his throat outside of the tent's flaps to announce himself, then wiggling a few fingers through the opening before peering in.

He's always in a hurry, never biting when you offer him opportunities to linger. You understand, how busy it can be when the whole clan begins to rely on you. So you bask in the short-lived moments in his space, skin scented with salt and the tang of the foliage.

But there are moments when you truly think he sees you. When you cross paths during clan meals, and the smallest of smiles twitches in his lips when you cut fruit and he's the first you offer to. When it's time to train to shoot your bows and he adjusts your form with a brief brush of his fingers on your elbow. When all of the older healers are unavailable and he shyly peeks his head into your tent for a quick patch up.

Nevermind the small tells stored in your short-term, but the little slivers of time when you were both growing into yourselves. When you were seven and he'd carried you to the elders when you hurt yourself. When some of the older kids in the clan would pick on you for keeping to yourself and he'd tell them that it was unbecoming and cowardly to pick on someone weaker than them. When he picked a flower during a group excursion into the deep depths of the forest and stuck the glowing stem in your satchel.

You had fallen so hard for Neteyam and your only hope is that he'd be at the end of the fall to catch you.

“You're not listening, ________!” Tuk whines and you look up from the scrolls you unfurled from the basket moments before she walked in.

“Sorry,” you murmur. “I have a lot on my mind.”

There's a small giggle from somewhere else in the tent and you peer from Tuk to Kiri who beads an anklet on her own.

“Yeah, like big brother,” Tuk teases, turning her attention back to her own beadwork.

Kiri's face splits into a grin.

“You've been lost in thought a lot more recently,” she observes. “Could Tuk be correct?”

You don't bother to deny it, the obvious flush in your cheeks a dead giveaway. Kiri's always been perceptive and the more you fight her on it, the longer she'll draw it out.

“I think it's worth a shot,” Kiri says. “Neteyam’s always had a soft spot for you.”

It's a million degrees hotter in the tent.

“You don't have to do that,” you say quietly, slouching in your seat.

“Do what?” Kiri challenges.

“Pretend I have a chance.”

Kiri makes a face.

“You do!” she argues. “Neteyam's just shy.”

You're silent for a moment, fingers twitching over a tear in the scroll. You want to believe her, tell her that you think it could be worth a shot, too. But you scent him before you hear him, and then you hear him before you see him.

Four blue fingers wiggle in the tent's opening before Neteyam is poking his head inside.

“Tuk? Kiri?” his voice rumbles. “Ready?”

Kiri glances at you as she stands to her feet and begins gathering her things. Her eyebrows do a little dance, eyes widening as she tilts her head discreetly to her brother.

“I'll see you,” you say quietly, patting Tuk on the back of her leg as she drops her finished anklet in your lap and giggles at you.

You follow their movements as they exit the tent through where Neteyam holds the flap open for them patiently.

He simply lifts a hand as a silent greeting and you wait until they're out of sight and earshot to expel the breath you'd been holding and slump down on your pillow.

In hindsight, you should have been more careful. Neteyam was a skillful hunter, the tribe's best warrior after his father. It's only normal that he'd be in the dense forest when you were plucking flowers and herbs for your salves, speaking quietly to Eywa about your concerns.

“Please, Great Mother,” you whisper, the woodsprites caressing the skin of your arms. "Please give me a sign, any form of motivation to be brave about my feelings."

The grass below your toes lights up and tickles the pads of your fingers as you pluck the glowing flowers.

There's a trail of them, purple and pink, and you pluck and pluck and pluck until you're led to the mouth of a clearing.

Something salty and tangy circles your figure and like usual, you scent him before you see him. When your gaze latches onto his lithe figure, you grin a little, lips parting to announce yourself. This must be your sign, of how vast and great the forests are surrounding your looming home tree, it must be fate that you stumble upon him at this hour.

But his name dies on your tongue when he shifts and you see the silhouette of another pressed to his side.

It's another Omaticaya girl, pretty and tall. You'd know her anywhere, the waves of her thick hair, the tinkle of her dainty laugh. But she is fierce all the same, far from perfect, but gritty enough that it doesn't matter.

Te'feyra draws a bow and one of Neteyam's hands come up to adjust her front grasp, fingers closing over hers and the arrow.

“Steady hands to make up for the recoil,” he says softly and your heart is in your throat.

He's engulfing her as she takes her aim and sends the arrow flying through the air.

Somewhere unknown to you, the arrow sticks its landing and Te'feyra jumps excitedly, pressing her lips to Neteyam's briefly.

You back away from the clearing, eyes burning as you fist the flowers so hard they wilt in your hands. A twig snaps underneath your weight and from your distance, you see the glow of Neteyam and Te'feyra's eyes through the brush.

You take off running without a single word, and despite your stomach tearing itself to ribbons, you thank Eywa for the clarity.

“Something's wrong,” Kiri says to you days later.

Instead of the tent, you two are sitting on opposing branches of a thick tree, observing the flora and fauna of your corner of the forest. You decide that you need some time away from the bustle of the clan's circle and venture off into the opposite side of the woods.

“Why do you say?” you wonder, scribbling onto one of your scrolls.

“You're naturally quiet, I get that, but the past few days, I feel like I've been in the presence of the dead,” she sighs, staring down at you from the branch above. “And Ewya's given me the feeling that all may not be well with you.”

You lick your teeth, then roll your lips nervously.

“I told you Neteyam didn't like me,” you admit.

Kiri's eyebrows furrow.

“What are you talking about?”

“I saw him,” you sigh, fiddling with your pen. “In the forest with Te'feyra. She kissed him.”

Kiri curses under her breath.

“This is stupid,” she huffs. “He's just being stupid. Neteyam likes you and I'm going to prove it.”

You open your mouth to protest, but Kiri's already jumping down from the branches of the tree and dragging you with her through the darkening forest.

“Kiri, this isn't necessary,” you finally pipe up. “It's okay if the feeling isn't mutual, I never expected it to be.”

Kiri stops in her tracks and her pinched face softens, braids swinging by the set of her jaw.

“________, we all grew up together,” she says softly. “I know my brother, and I know you. You two belong together, I feel it.”

You swallow around nothing, allowing her to drag you through the forest and back into the clan's main circle.

“Hey, Kiri! ________, where are you two headed off to in such a rush?” one of the elders calls from where they're working on tools.

Kiri smiles politely.

“Very important business,” she replies quickly, fingers tightening around your wrist to pull you across the grass.

You stop in front of their family's hometree and Kiri guides you through vines and steep inclines before pausing in front of their family's tent.

Lo'ak's voice sounds from within, whiny and irritated.

“Bro, are you being serious right now?” he squeaks and Neteyam grunts, obviously bored.

“Frankly, Lo'ak this has nothing to do with you,” he says.

“Dude, yes it does,” Lo'ak argues. “You've inadvertently involved everyone in this affair because you won't get your head out of your ass for three seconds and just admit that you like her.”

“I don't like, ________,” he says simply and Kiri freezes in front of you.

You chew the inside of your cheek, fingers twitching in Kiri's loosened hold.

“Who are you trying to convince?” Lo'ak moans. “You're really going to commit to Te'feyra even though you have no interest in her?”

“Te'feyra is a great huntress,” Neteyam says simply. “She's well-loved, a strong leader. What's there not to like?”

“________ is all of those things,” Lo'ak says. “She's a talented healer, always patches you up when you get yourself in trouble. The clan loves her, Tuk and Kiri love her, Mom and Dad love her.”

“The clan barely knows that ________ exists,” Neteyam says and you wince.

Kiri makes a move to infiltrate the heated conversation, but you put a hand on her shoulder and shake your head.

“Dude, that's low,” Lo'ak scoffs in disbelief.

“________ is a sweet girl, but she's weak. She's hollow and does what she's told. I wouldn't want to spend my life bonded to someone so passive,” Neteyam says plainly and Lo'ak lets out an exasperated hiss.

“You're kidding right? ________ is amazing,” Lo'ak challenges. “She's quiet, but she's caring. She's resilient and intelligent and anyone would be lucky to be bonded to someone like her, your stupid ass included.”

“Maybe you should focus more on training for your rite rather than trying to play matchmaker,” Neteyam says, showing the first signs of annoyance.

“You just won't admit that for the first time you're scared,” Lo'ak finally says.

Everything seems to still and Lo'ak presses on.

“Everyone loves you, you're the clan's golden child and you can do no wrong. You like ________ so much, but you're afraid that you'll let her down,” Lo'ak says fiercely. “But you don't realize that being a pussy about your feelings is the ultimate let down!”

“You'd know a lot about being a let down, wouldn't you,” Neteyam grumbles.

There's a split second of silence before Neteyam lets out a loud grunt of pain. The flap to their tent flies open and Lo'ak freezes before you and Kiri.

His eyes meet yours and his gaze softens before stalking past.

Neteyam stands stunned in the middle of the tent, lip bruised and bleeding. His gaze swings to the arch way, face falling when he finds you standing behind his younger sister.

“Wanna go swimming?” Tuk asks you the next evening, after dinner.

You smile down at her weakly, heart melting when she pets your hand. You can't deny her, nodding gently as you stand from where you're sitting on the outer circle of the scattered clan.

“Carry me?” she asks sweetly.

You heave her up with a grunt and she grins at you, playing with one of the braids in your hair. Her small fingers caress the skin of your cheek and you blink when she ghosts over your eyelid.

“Pretty,” she whispers, head nestling on your shoulder.

“I think you're prettier,” you tell her, readjusting her growing form as you walk through the brush, towards the rush of the waterfall.

You don't realize that there's a set of eyes on you, watching as you disappear through the trees with Tuk.

The cliff that houses the waterfall towers above you two in a semicircle, the water rippling gently as Tuk squirms from your grasp and splashes through the shallow pool.

“Stay close, Tuk,” you coo, toes wiggling through the pebbles washed up on the tiny shore.

“I've been practicing!” Tuk tells you. “Wanna see how long I can hold my breath under water?”

“Stay in shallow waters,” you advise her, wading into the pool until you're waist deep.

Tuk dramatically inhales and then sinks down under the surface. Something cracks in the distance and you glance around, met with the stillness of the forest and the chirp of bugs.

When you turn your attention back to Tuk, you smile fondly as you wait for her to emerge, counting the seconds diligently to report to her chubby cheeks.

Fifteen pass, then thirty. Your smile begins to fade as your arms feel around in the water around you.

“Tuk?” you call out, chest tightening when you're met with the subtle rush of the glittering cascade from the waterfall up above.

You push forward in the water until your chin touches the surface.

“Tuktirey!” you shout, thrashing around the pool, searching for her tiny frame through the illumination. “Tuk!”

Your toes lose purchase as the water deepens and you begin to panic without the youngest Sully in sight. You turn when you hear a splash, Tuk giggling on the shore.

Your stomach churns hard and Tuk's face falls when she sees your panicked expression.

“Tuk, I-I can't swim well!” you cry out, legs flailing as you splash through the water. You try to dig your toes in the earth below, but you're just shy of the mark.

Tuk looks scared on the shore, fidgeting as she looks around desperately.

“You're too deep, ________!” Tuk whines, voice laced with tears.

Your legs ache, head lolling under the water for a moment before you emerge with a splutter.

“Get– Go get help!” you instruct her, feeling your calves begin to burn as you try to keep yourself afloat. You don't know how long you'll be able to tread water. “I'll be okay, little one. Hurry!”

Tuk turns, picking up her satchel as she makes way for the path you took. When she's out of sight, you fall slack, chest heaving as you try to use your skinny arms to paddle at the water.

Meanwhile, Tuktirey runs through the forest, tears spilling down her rounded cheeks as she trips over sprawling roots and nudges low-hanging vines from the pathway.

She skids to a stop when Neteyam, who had finally worked up the nerve to excuse himself from dinner, comes into view.

He turns when he hears her wailing, face scrunching when he registers his youngest sibling's anguish.

“Tuk, wha—”

She grabs at his hands, tugging him towards the path to the waterfall.

“________ needs help!” she cries. “She can't swim!”

Neteyam's ears prick at the mention of your name, scooping up his youngest sibling in his arms before breaking into a sprint through the brush of the brightening forest. The woodsprites begin to emerge and he barrels into the clearing of the waterfall breathlessly.

It's still, like it's been untouched and his heart hammers nervously in his chest, eyes searching the pool for any sign of you.

He's setting Tuk down quickly before splash desperately into the water.

“_______!” he calls.

He ducks underneath the surface, eyes open wide as he searches for you. And there you are, body slack as you sink slowly to the bottom of the rocky pool.

He dives forward, lungs burning as he cuts through the waters with lean arms. His fingers circle one of your wrists, the other hand winding around your waist as he propels you two up above the water. He chokes on a breath, hand coming up to touch your face.

Your head lolls to the side, eyes shut as Neteyam holds you close.

“Neteyam!” Te'feyra calls from the shore, having followed him after being rebuffed during dinner.

Kiri and Lo'ak are close behind, eyes wide when they see their eldest brother wading quickly through the waters with your unconscious form in his arms.

“Neteyam,” Te'feyra repeats, hand coming to grasp his bicep.

“Not now,” he grunts, tugging his arm from her grasp to march through the brush of the forest.

Woodsprites surround you two as he takes you back to the village, a silent plea to the Great Mother not to take you away weighing heavy on his lips.

You awake to a shining sun and a wet towel on your head. You squint against the beaming light and sit up abruptly as the prior night dawns you like a swift strike to the gut.

“Whoa, wait, slow down,” a thick voice rumbles.

You scent him before you see him.

Neteyam's hands are on you, guiding you back to rest on the pile of pillows that had propped you up before.

You shoot up again anyways.

“Where's Tuk?” you ask anxiously.

“Tuk's fine,” Neteyam says. “She's eating breakfast with Kiri and Mom.”

You lean back in relief, eyes squeezing shut as you wheeze out a sigh.

His hands are on you again, gentle, warm as he takes the towel from your forehead and wipes your face to refresh you.

“Are you okay?” he asks quietly, hesitantly.

You pause a moment, but then nod.

“Yeah,” you affirm hoarsely. “M'fine.”

Neteyam just stares at you, yellow eyes unblinking and you know this isn't like one of those fleeting moments. He sees you and it makes your gut churn hard.

“I'll be okay here,” you say quietly. “You may have...someone, you know, waiting for you.”

Te'feyra's name is a silent implication and Neteyam doesn't look amused.

“I told them I would look after you until you're fully well,” he counters, wringing the towel into a bowl that sits next to the mound of blankets your rest on.

You fiddle with your fingers, fully disheartened because even in times like these, he remains the diligent leader-in-training that he is.

The air in the tent is think and you can't breathe.

“I'd like some air,” you whisper, crawling from the soft mat to climb to your feet shakily.

“You need to rest,” Neteyam says crossly, seemingly annoyed at your persistence to put as much distance as you can between the two of you.

You don't respond and finally he seems to burst.

“You can't swim and yet you still went after Tuk,” he calls after you like an accusation. “Why?”

You pause.

“Tuk is like a sister to me,” you say quietly. “I would never let anything happen to her.”

You make a move to exit the tent, but Neteyam's voice stops you in your tracks.

“You could have died,” he says quietly, and you can't place the emotion in his voice.

“I'd do it again,” you admit, craning your neck to face him. “I'm not that weak.”

Neteyam's face falls and you duck from the tent.

Neteyam becomes restless after that moment. He loses his focus, agility taking a hit as he hunts one on one with his father.

He goes to shoot another arrow, but Jake stops him with a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“Neteyam, I know I can be hard on you,” he starts. “But I’m always here.”

“Yes sir,” Neteyam nods.

“Something’s bothering you,” Jake observes. “You’re not yourself. You’re losing focus.”

Neteyam swallows.

“Sorry, sir,” he says, head hanging.

His braids form a curtain around his face and Jake gives his shoulder a squeeze.

“Son?”

Neteyam swallows again, head tilting up to look is dad in the face.

“I don’t want to be with Te’feyra,” he admits quietly.

Jake's lips twitch.

“Well I could have told you that,” Jake scoffs, the corner of his lips twitching into a soft smile. “You look about as dead as a washed up fish when she’s around.”

Neteyam recalls the kiss she’d given him nights ago and how he'd internally recoiled, body stiff under her touch.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats.

“Why are you sorry?” Jake prods.

“Because I know Te’feyra is who the clan wants me to be with, who is my most suitable match,” he says. “I just— I don't want to let you down.”

Jake gives him an impish grin.

“Neteyam, let me give you a word of advice. There are things in this world that are suited well for each other; you and Te'feyra are one of those things. But your heart and your mind are the two most powerful things about you,” he says. “You will not be punished for giving into your heart.”

Neteyam thinks of you. He thinks of your face, the lines of your timid smile, the idents that dimple your cheeks. He thinks of your touch when he's wounded, gentle and expert, warm against his skin. He thinks of your voice, airy, soft, a low rasp.

He thinks of when he'd called you weak. Of your face, wounded and hurt. He's stricken in this moment as he realizes that strength doesn't have to be audacious. It can be quiet, small acts that become mighty.

Tuk had told him about the waterfall, how she'd wanted to pull your leg a little. You'd accepted your fate if Ewya deemed it time, you'd even sent the youngest away in the chance you wouldn't surface.

You were far from weak. Your strength ran nearly as deep as the roots of Ewya herself, yet you'd taken the criticism in stride. Let Neteyam paint you as a coward, a pushover with no spine.

“I think there’s someone you need to clear the air with,” Jake says after a few moments of silence. “She should be in her tent.”

Neteyam's hands are clammy. It's been nearly a week since he'd last seen you. You'd reserved to spending time inside of your tent to brush up on your studies and refine your work. He'd catch glimpses of you, but you were used to blending in the background and Neteyam's used to overlooking you.

Was he being presumptuous? Maybe you only admired him as a warrior. Or perhaps it was a duty to the clan to revere him. He feels sick to his stomach thinking of confronting you. But Lo'ak wouldn't try to convince him of his own feelings if it wasn't mutual, would he?

And when had the feelings become mutual? He's recently began to think that perhaps he'd always liked you because you were the only one who didn't actively vie for his affection. Who only saw him as Neteyam, an equal, not Neteyam, the Olo’eyktan's son.

Maybe it was whenever he'd see you wandering in the forest during his hunting trips, murmuring to yourself as you picked herbs and flowers for you studies. Or maybe when he'd spot you still high on the branches of the lofty trees with a tablet of paper and ink. Maybe it was when you'd smile at him shyly when he'd adjust your form during archery and it'd melt his insides. Or when you two were little and he'd plucked flowers for everyone and you were the only one who'd smiled at it sticking out of your satchel.

If he recalls correctly, it's pressed to a scroll hanging in your tent and that alone makes his heart race.

Maybe you two are inevitable and he'd only prolonged it because of his own fears.

“Neteyam!”

Te’feyra steps in his line of sight, standing before him and the hometree that houses your tent. He glances away when she stops in front of him.

“Te’feyra,” he greets cordially.

“I haven't seen you since the incident with ________,” she says. “Are you alright?”

Neteyam nods.

“Never better,” he says simply.

“After dinner we should–”

He spots you, satchel thrown over your shoulder. You glance his way momentarily, but scurry in the direction of your tent when you lock eyes with him.

“If you will excuse me, please,” he says politely, extricating himself from Te’feyra to follow after you.

He catches up to you right outside of your tent.

“________!” he calls.

You freeze almost imperceptibly, but continue on your way, climbing the flattened incline spiraling around the center of the hometree.

“________,” he murmurs, fist closing around your skinny bicep.

You jolt to a stop, golden eyes razor sharp as you glance down at him. Your fist is wrapped tight around the strap of the satchel, knuckles stretched taut.

“Neteyam,” you reply softly. “Yes?”

He opens his mouth to say something, but finds that his tongue weighs heavy behind his lips.

“If you seek help, there are elders available for healing,” you inform him, making a move to remove your arm from his grasp.

He instinctively tightens his grasp and you shift uncomfortably.

“Sorry, sorry,” he says quietly, pulling away. “I just want to speak with you.”

A few beats pass as you blink at him.

“Well?”

“Oh,” he swallows. “Can I come in?”

You turn to face the flap of your tent before craning your long neck over your shoulder to nod.

“Sure,” you agree, holding the hide open to let him in.

You step in after him, table scattered with mixtures of finely-pounded dust, scrolls of research and bundles of materials.

You set your satchel down and begin unloading your finds from you excursion.

Meanwhile, Neteyam paces nervously, trailing the circumference of your tent, eyes flitting every which way to take in every piece of you.

A thick silence envelops you and you clear your throat when the satchel is empty.

“You wanted to talk?” you ask, watching as he stops in front of a scrolled tacked to one of the beams.

It's the pressed flower he'd given to you all that time ago as children. It's central in the room, catching the sun so beautifully and Neteyam uses this as the last bit of courage he needs to continue.

“You kept it,” he says, voice shaky.

“Of course,” you say simply, picking through your different finds. “You gave it to me.”

Neteyam turns, looks you head on and he feels his resolve crumbling.

“You like me,” he says bluntly, afraid that if he beats around the bush, he'll cop out.

“Everyone does,” you deflect.

Neteyam's jaw locks.

“No, ________, you like me,” he repeats.

You feel small, sorting the petals by color, fingers nimble against the soft grain of the wooden tabletop.

“Presumptuous,” you hum, unable to meet his piercing gaze.

“________,” he presses.

You bite your lip, tears clouding your vision as your fingers begin to trembling through the sorting. He's being so unfair and he doesn't even know it.

“Why?” you ask shakily.

“What do you mean why?” Neteyam counters, voice taking on the same edge he did with his brother days prior and he'd interrogated him about you.

“Why are you doing this?” you croak, and he hears the tears in your voice.

He's across the floor before you can blink.

“Are you crying?” he asks, shocked.

“Why do you want me to say it so badly?” you choke, poor petals strangled in your vibrating fist. “Is it not enough? To know that I yearn for you silently? That everyone pities me because my heart belongs to someone who's already spoken for?”

Neteyam is stunned.

“I like you, Neteyam. I always have,” you say, voice raw with emotion. “It's my biggest defeat to say I always will. Is that what you want to hear?”

Your eyes are tinged red and his throat feels stuffed with cotton.

“I've always admired you,” you say quietly, between hiccuping breaths. “But I didn’t know you could be so cruel.”

Neteyam winces, every word he’d practiced earlier, completely obliterated from his short term. He knows he should just tell you, tell you that his heart yearns for yours, too. That he'd been too blinded by his impending duty to feel the full effects of what a first love could be like.

“You should go,” you say when he's silent.

You brush your tears away and pat your cheeks dry with the back of your hands as you carefully set the wilted flowers the the edge of the table.

“I–”

“Neteyam, spare me, please.”

“I don’t want to,” he finally says.

Your eyebrows furrow, eyes swollen as you gaze at him unjaded. Who he believed to be so stoic and passive now baring every possible inch to him.

“You're–”

“I don't want to be with Te'feyra,” he finally spits, fists clenched. “I won't be with her.”

Your gaze softens, lips parting to ask what's gotten into him, but he cuts you off.

“You,” he answers firmly, before the question clings in the air. “It’s you. I want to be with you.”

"Stop," you whisper, shaking your head furiously. You take a step away from where he's quickly closing in on you. “Don't–”

He pauses mid-stride and the expression on his handsome face is absolutely devastating. His chest rises and falls shakily and you take a moment to meet his eyes.

“I’m sorry I didn’t notice it before,” he says desperately, “I was scared and didn't fully realize it, but I do now.”

“That’s unfair,” you hiccup. “This isn't just on your terms. You can’t— you can’t just tell me you like me and expect me to be with you.”

These passing moments are the most he’s ever heard you speak, and he’s afraid that he's severely underestimated you. It doesn’t taste so sweet now that he’s faced with the reality of things.

“You will be the future leader of this clan,” you continue. “That is a great responsibility that you've prepared for your entire life. Who you decide to be with is a permanent fixture that cannot be undone.”

“I know, I know,” he assures you.

“You find it in your heart pity me, Neteyam,” you breathe quietly. “But do you really want to be bonded to someone passive and weak?”

He opens his mouth to argue, but you've squared your shoulders, stomach caving and expanding with a deep breath. You turn to your prior task.

“You should go,” you repeat. “Duty calls.”

“What do you mean you need help?” Kiri asks incredulously, eyes widened at her older brother.

“________,” Neteyam says. “She's icing me out.”

Kiri's face melts in relief and she scoffs a laugh.

“Do you blame her?”

“Kiri!” he pleads.

Kiri stops her movements, falling back on her haunches to meet Neteyam's desperate gaze. It's so unlike him, being uncertain, nervous. He's picked up the habit of fiddling his fingers and Kiri snorts to herself.

“Actions,” she says simply.

“Huh?” he vocalizes.

“Words mean nothing to ________ if your actions don't support them,” she says. “This entire time you've acted so lukewarm towards her. Of course she won't believe you when you decide to acknowledge that you love her.”

Neteyam's throat bobs as he stares down at his sister.

“And how will I do that?” he presses.

Kiri shrugs.

“Not so mighty warrior now, are we?”

As the days progress, you begin to grasp at finally coming to terms with the tattered remains of what's left of you and Neteyam's frayed relationship. Your heart hasn't stonewalled him completely, but the yearning for him has dulled to a slight ache.

His eyes are piercing every moment you share the same vicinity. Kiri would even try to argue you that it's longing, but Neteyam's a slave to his honor and you aren't convinced.

“You should pity the poor boy,” an elder tells you as you cut up ingredients for the evening's dinner.

You pause, fingers tightening around the handle of the knife. You roll your lips together before briefly meeting her gaze, warm under firelight.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you deflect, clearing your throat.

She laughs, peeling a purple fruit.

“Neteyam,” she says forwardly. “Hasn’t taken his eyes off you in who knows how long. Will you continue to let him suffer?”

You want to argue that it's you who's suffering. That the heart that beats inside the hollow of your ribcage feels like it'll tear in two every time you recall the venom in Neteyam's voice when he'd called you weak.

“I doubt his suffering has anything to do with me,” you say instead. “We are only acquaintances.”

The elder laughs again.

“Is that why he's been pestering the elders for input on how to sway your heart?”

Your head shoots up from where you've focused on the fine cuts of vegetables.

“What?”

“He’s been slacking on his duties, instead poking around the elders and villagers trying to pry information about you,” she says. “Heard him muttering about what kind of flowers you like.”

“It will take more than flowers to sway my heart,” you mumble.

“So you admit that there's something there, hmm?”

Your cheeks heat, caught like a fish in warm waters.

“I–”

“I'd argue that Neteyam’s liked you longer than you've liked him,” the elder says simply.

You bite.

“Why do you say that?”

“He's always asked Eywa for courage, and it seems like she gave you as an answer.”

The elder climbs to her feet, leaving you near the open flame. You open your mouth to call out to her, but the scent of salt and leaves envelops you before you can say anything.

You crane your neck and find Neteyam a few paces from you.

“Do you have a few moments?” he asks politely.

You want to say no, tell him that you'd offered him an infinite amount of moments that he'd spent building bridges between the two of you, but if he's a slave to his honor, you're bound by heart.

“Okay,” you say hesitantly, abandoning your task.

He holds his hand out for you to take and your fingers slide across his warm palm as he pulls you to your feet. Once he secures your hold in his, he tugs you along.

You don't know where he's taking you, or what he could possibly want with your time, but you feel a thousand times more nervous than ever now that the tangled web of your feelings drapes the both of you.

After a few moments of rugged silence, climbing through bushes and brush, he punctures the quiet.

“Are you well?” he asks.

“Yes,” you answer after a moment. “You?”

“Truthfully?” he responds, pausing to face you. You realize his hand still engulfs yours. “No.”

“No?” you parrot shakily.

“No,” he affirms. “I've been hurting actually.”

Your eyebrows furrow.

“You should seek help if you have an ongoing–”

“Here,” he says, the hand still caught in his being guided to lay flat against his chest. You can feel his heart hammering behind his ribcage. “It hurts here.”

You swallow, pulling away from his grasp when you realize his insinuation.

“Don’t,” you warn.

He breathes a shaky sigh before taking a step towards you. He's corded muscle and warmth as his palm comes to cradle your jaw. Your bottom lip twitches as you stare up at him.

“It’s always been you,” he says quietly, thumb brushing your chin as his eyes map every curve of your face. “I think I’ve always known it deep down, but...”

Your hand comes up to meet his, gently prying his touch away.

“Neteyam,” you sigh. “Had the last few days unfolded differently, I don't think you'd been saying this now.”

“Maybe not now,” he agrees. “But one day, I would. I know I would. Because when I recall every fond moment, you’re there. No matter how close to the background you get, you’re always there.”

You look skeptical, and Neteyam knows he's losing you. So he digs in the small knapsack he has slung over his broad shoulders and pulls out something thin.

When he holds it up with shaky fingers, your breath catches in your throat. Strung through the taut brown of tree vine is a line of beads identical to the one that he wears on a braid tucked behind his ear. Upon closer inspection, you notice the blue and purple beads formed to create your favorite flowers.

“Wha—”

“Until you decide you want to be mine,” he says, voice trembling nervously as he takes your arm and gently slides the band up until it fits snuggly around your bicep. “So that you remember I'm always yours.”

Your voice is caught in your throat as he brings your fingers up to his lips.

“I won’t push you,” he says when he realizes your words have evaded you. “But I’ll wait for you.”

“Neteyam–”

He simply smiles at you, golden eyes shy as he takes a step back to admire his handiwork. He seems satisfied, triumphant, when you eye the band but make no moves to remove it.

“I’ll wait for you,” he repeats, giving your fingers a squeeze before running off.

“He did what?” Lo’ak shrills a week later.

The younger three Sully's had hunted you down and brought you to the clearing dedicated to archery training.

Slender fingers wrap around your wrist and elbow to turn your arm to examine the band with wide eyes.

You can’t help but smile gently to yourself, watching the way the sun catches the reflection of the pearlescent beads and reflects them brightly.

“I knew that dummy was planning something,” Kiri grumbles. You bite your lip when she meets your gaze. “Well?”

“Well what?” you ask, arm still in Lo’ak’s grasp.

He twists playfully and your laugh glitters in the air.

"Are you going to put my knucklehead brother out of his misery or what?" Kiri hisses, arm drawing to shoot a arrow that stabs the target about a centimeter too left.

Tuk giggles as she runs up to the target to examine the damage.

“Yeah, please do, he's in love and it's disgusting,” Lo'ak grumbles, still eyeing the cuff.

Your heart skips at the mention of love, cheeks going warm when both Kiri and Lo'ak notice how you've gone quiet. They begin laughing, dealing you playful punches.

“Stop that,” you scold, swatting their hands away. “I haven’t given him an answer yet.”

“Oh, get real!” Kiri huffs. “You are so in love, you know you'll say yes.”

“Please put me out of my misery,” Lo'ak moans. “I'm tired of being his therapist because he's a little bitch.”

“Lo'ak,” you warn, eyes narrowing.

He giggles and Kiri stifles a laugh as you flounder, cheeks blooming under the siblings' teasing.

“You are both so awful,” you say petulantly, arms crossing one over the other. “How are you so sure I’ll return his feelings?”

It's Kiri's turn to groan, eyes rolling.

“Sure enough that I know if I let you in on a little secret, it'll light a fire under your ass,” she says seriously.

Your spine goes rigid, arms loosening as you wait with bated breath.

“Neteyam may choose you, but if you don’t choose him back quickly enough, someone could swoop in and claw that chance from you,” she shrugs.

Te'feyra's name is an ugly insinuation and something green coils its way into the pit of your stomach as you recall the chaste kiss she'd pressed to Neteyam's lips all those nights ago in the forest.

“Gears turning?” Lo'ak lilts.

They definitely are and suddenly you feel small, digging your big toe into the dirt to drag lines through the forest floor. You nod hesitantly, band suddenly tight around your bicep.

In your ruminating, Lo'ak and Kiri pass a knowing glance.

“Well?” Lo'ak prods.

You fidget, rattling with nerves.

“I suppose...”

Lo'ak sighs and his hands come down on your shoulders to steer you through the clearing.

“Where are we going?” you squeak.

“To put everyone out of their misery,” Lo'ak huffs.

The forest seems way more alive than usual, glowing so bright it almost overpowers the sun. Woodsprites gather around as Lo'ak nudges you through the thick foliage and you can't help but think about the sweet smile that curled on Neteyam's lips as he assured you that he was yours. All yours.

The fire crackles in the distance and you know that the morning meal is in the works when voices roar quietly meters away.

Neteyam sits near the center, surrounded by elders and the dreaded girl.

Te'feyra's obliterated every single centimeter of space available, nearly melded to his side as the elders talk animatedly over the two.

You want to turn back, uncertainty vice-like, but Lo'ak squeezes your shoulders as a silent plea. Not even a moment passes before Neteyam peels himself away and begins putting distance between them.

When Te'feyra gives him a curious glance, he gives her an uneasy smile.

“Be courageous, ________,” Lo'ak encourages. “You're one of the strongest people I know.”

With a final pat on the back, he pushes you towards the circle and the sudden movement catches everyone's gaze.

“________,” one of the elders calls fondly.

You smile and bow your head, fingers twitching at your sides.

“Hello,” you greet quietly, eyes swooping hesitantly to Neteyam who rises to his feet, already watching you intently.

That's when you notice it, the choker fastened around his throat. The vine is identical to yours, but it's strung with a line of beads that mirror the ones woven into a singular braid at the nape of your neck.

You hadn't realized that he'd noticed it all this time, but it's the ultimate confirmation that Neteyam sees you. And when he notices that you notice, he smiles softly.

The elders notice as well, drawing the link between your arm band and the necklace that Neteyam wears, now that you two stand opposite each other.

“May I borrow Neteyam for a moment?” you ask politely.

The same elder you prepared with the evening prior gleams a wide smile when Neteyam takes a step towards you, fingers brushing delicately with yours.

Te'feyra remains seated, lips twitching as her gaze flits between the two of you.

“By all means,” one of them says. “Take your time.”

You bow your head again, heart thudding when Neteyam's fingers twine with yours and he lets you drag him out of the circle and deeper into the forest.

When you deem that no prying eyes or ears surround you, you stop, Neteyam bumping softly into your back. The hair on the back of your neck bristle when he makes no moves to extricate himself from you, simply moving your braids from your face to reveal the string of beads tucked near the nape of your neck.

“You needed me?” he whispers, fingers still ghosting the skin of shoulder.

You swallow, squeezing your eyes shut as you relish the moment. Your fingers are still locked and for a fleeting second, you pretend that it's always been like this, the two of you.

“I am nothing extraordinary,” you start, and Neteyam's fingertips pause at your elbow.

“I'd argue differently,” he responds.

“I value time alone and I get overwhelmed often,” you continue.

“We all have our moments,” is his rebuttal as the hand covering yours squeezes gently.

You sigh.

“I could—”

Neteyam turns you and you're met with the the choker, beads glinting under the light. Your eyes drag up the column of his strong neck, flit past his soft lips and finally lock with his searing gaze.

“You can try all you want to run me off,” Neteyam laughs quietly, cupping your jaw. “But I'm not scared anymore.”

Your expression is skeptical and Neteyam decides to bite the bullet. He's closing in on you and your heart pounds violently in your chest.

“Neteyam,” you whisper weakly, hand coming up to his chest.

He traps your fingers against his heart, lips slotting between yours before you can protest some more.

It's like the forest comes alive around you, grass tickling between your toes as you melt under his touch and lean up into his mouth.

His hands are everywhere at once, branding your cerulean skin as he kisses you like it's your last moments. There's no hesitation, no feeling it out, just his warm breath and his soft lips as he pulls you impossibly closer.

“I'll take you as you are at any moment,” he says breathlessly between kisses. “You just have to say you want me back, ________. Please.”

You nod, nose brushing against his as one of his palms splay at the small of your back and the other grabs your chin, pulling you back to plant another burning kiss on your lips.

“Say it,” he begs.

Your eyes begin to mist as you nod again eagerly, parting for a moment to whisper the words.

“I'm yours,” you hoarse, hands on either side of his neck. “I'm yours if you'll be with me.”

Neteyam simply kisses you again, a satisfied hum rumbling from his built chest.

“Fucking finally,” a whisper sounds from the brush.

A LIL' BONUS

“You think they would have figured it out on their own?” Lo'ak asks, wolfing down his food.

Kiri shrugs, feeding Tuk a piece of fruit from her wooden plate.

“Maybe,” she says, unable to suppress her proud grin. “Maybe not. They're both stupid."

“I think so,” Te'feyra laughs watching you and Neteyam fondly from across the fire. “They were a long time coming.”

an – thank you SO much if you've made it this far! again, leave a request or let's chat hehehe. up next is lo'ak so stay tuned! :)

#neteyam x reader #avatar #avatar way of water #neteyam fic #neteyam #neteyam sully #avatar the way of water

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mrsbarnesblog · 1 year ago

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Mattheo Riddle headcanons

masterlist ko-fi ao3

Summary: what is it like dating Mattheo

Word count: 1.5k

Warnings: fluff, no mention of y/n, you can be in any house, spicy content under the warning

Author’s note: For all my Bucky fanfic readers, I'm sorry that I haven’t posted in almost a month. This December is just too overwhelming, and every time I tried to finish my fic, it felt like I was wasting my time. I literally just miss the ending, and I hope to finish it as soon as possible.

For my possible new followers and/or HP stans, Mattheo is my current obsession, and I’m literally head over heels for him. And you know what they say: if you can’t find a fanfic that you like, write it yourself. So yeah, I'm trying something new, and I have a few ideas that are poisoning my head every single minute lmao.

sorry if there are any mistakes. hope you’ll like it💘🎀

Mattheo was never that much of a playboy because he didn’t like to share his space and, well, communicate with people in general

Due to his family, he was really reserved and refused to be weak

You weren’t that popular in school, so he had never really noticed you but one day, you suddenly started hanging out with Pansy and he could not get you out of his head anymore

He hated it

He hated that you occupied all of his thoughts for at least a few weeks

Tried to ignore his feelings for you as long as possible, but from the moment you two had to work together on the project, everything went downhill

He was scared to ask you out, not ready to be rejected by the only person he genuinely liked and thinking that maybe you secretly hated him like everyone else

At the beginning of the relationship, Mattheo told you that sometimes he might get cold and distant, but it wasn’t your fault and that you should just give him some time

Mattheo is romantic and for his favorite girl, he always arranged the best dates

He was nervous to kiss you after the first date when he walked you to your dorm

Little did he know, but that sexy smirk and the way he looked at you all night drove you insane

So you just pulled him by the tie, connecting your lips

Since then, Mattheo has been addicted to you

Hands are always on you, holding your hand, your waist or your thighs

Looks at you as if you hung the moon and the stars

He kisses you in front of everyone to make sure that they know that you are his, and he is yours

Likes to pull into into his lap while he’s talking with his friends in the common room

Holding you close, slowly strokes your arms or your back, unable to keep his hands away from you

Whispers sweet nothings

Loves your smell and always buries his nose into your hair

He wears rings and allows you to steal them

His hoodies and t-shirts too

Secretly likes to be little spoon or lay on your chest while your hands are playing with his curls

Buys you everything you might possibly like, even though you always tell him to stop spending his money on you

Likes to study with you because you can actually get ready for the lessons while he has another opportunity to stare at you

So overprotective and always snaps back at people who, even in the slightest way, disrespect you

He never lets you go to the parties alone in case some creepy guys decide to hit on you

Possesive

When you’re wearing revealing clothes, one part of him is proud and wants to brag that his girlfriend is the sexiest woman on the planet, but the other part wants to cover you with big blanket and keep you to himself

Always sarcastic and sassy

Fights a lot

He had never gone to the medical wing because he wasn’t used to asking for help, but since you started dating, he let you heal his wound

Loves when you scold him for those fights, just because you look so cute when you’re angry and he has an excuse to kiss and spoil you

He has anger issues, but he has never raised his voice at you

Actually, you are like a sedative to him because only you can calm him down in a matter of seconds

Will never make you feel uncomfortable or insecure

You don’t like something or someone? Mattheo will make sure to get you out of the room and won’t let that person come near you ever again

The way you call him “Matty” turns him into a literal puddle

Can’t sleep without you in his arms

spicy

During your first time, he was super attentive and always checked whether you were okay or not

Praises. A lot of fucking praises

“You’re taking me so good, my love”, “you look so pretty when you cum around me.”

He likes every position, but prefers when he can see your face

There is literally not a single place in his dorm where you two haven’t had sex

Gets turned on literally by everything you do

He’s risky. As soon as he finds out that you actually liked it, he always teases you under the table, pulls you into the storage rooms, and talks dirty while there are a lot of people around

Got you two in detention a few times for getting caught kissing at night by Snape (you were lucky that he caught you before Mattheo’s hands slipped under your skirt)

His personal favorite is sex in the astronomy tower. The way you’re trying to hold back your moans drives him crazy

Also bathtub in the prefects’ bathroom, where you love to sit with him deep inside of you

He usually dominates, but sometimes likes to let you be in charge and see how you ride him

He has a big appetite, and what is the best way to deal with it? Right, you.

Mattheo would’ve spent hours in between your legs if you allowed him

He never asks for anything in return, but still seeing you on your knees for him is a fucking miracle

Your hair are around his hand, while you’re taking as much of him in your mouth as you can

Eye contact

He’s willing to try in bed anything that you want, except things that might get you hurt

He likes to keep his hand on your neck while he’s thrusting into you but never actually squeezes

Can be rough and fast or really gentle and slow, depending on the mood

After someone pisses him off or if you had a small fight, he always fucks you into the bed with your hands pinned above you until you’re literally crying from pleasure

By the way, when you don’t have time to put a spell on the room, it gives him satisfaction to know that everyone hears the way you moan for him

He always makes sure that you came, and if you didn’t, he’s more than happy to go down on you

Love confessions

Aftercare is a must

Hugs, kisses, food, baths—anything you might want

He always keeps you close until you fall asleep and then just stares at you, wondering how he could be so happy to have you

#slytherin boys #harry potter fanfiction #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle #mattheo x you #mattheoxreader #mattheo x y/n #mattheo riddle headcanon #mattheo riddle fanfic

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whatislovevavy · 4 months ago

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Sliding Stops & Beating Hearts

Reiner! Tyler Owens x Fem!Reader (Honeybee)

Summary: Tyler Owens has worked almost his entire life for this moment. And he's so glad he gets to share it with you.

Warnings: Tyler being down bad for his wife, afab!reader, fluff, swearing, smut (18+), oral (m+f), facesitting, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it)

WC: 4.6k (I'm so sorry, but not sorry enough to make it shorter)

AN: Hey girlies :) Apologies for taking so long to post this, I've been very busy and it feels like I have to wait for what feels like some kind of astronomical event for me to be able to write. Tyler Owens is essentially Jake Seresin so yeah I'm writing for him now lol. Reining has always been one of my favorite equestrian sports to watch. Granted, I've never done it nor competed so apologies to any reiners out there if there's inaccuracies with how competitions go lol. Anyways, hope you enjoy :)

None of the pictures featured are mine and were taken off of Pinterest. All of my writings will be added to my writing side blog @sophs-writing-nook

This is an 18+ fanfic, so minors scoot pls. You are responsible for the media you consume. Do not copy, plagiarize, repost, or translate this fic without my explicit permission as it is my own creation.

The competition had been fierce and each ounce of caffeine in your veins from your strenuous, early morning drive from Arkansas to Oklahoma had done nothing to quell your nerves.

You could feel the sweat emulate from your palms as you watched each rider and horse pair complete their routine with near flawlessness, confidence, professionalism, and near perfect scores on maneuvers.

Tyler would need to give it his all to bring home the NRHA world championship title for this season.

You watched with bated breath as the pair before Tyler’s exited through the in-gate, applause and cheers ricocheting off the concrete and aluminum walls of the stadium. The announcer’s voice crackling and echoing through the speakers as the pairs score was displayed on the JumboTron that hung ominously above the center of the arena, threatening to crush Tyler's lifelong dream if a perfect score wasn't achieved. You fiddled with the competition program in your hand, waiting for the announcer to give the go ahead for Tyler Owens and Coppertone Boy, or as he was affectionately called at home, Copper, to enter the arena.

“Come on, honeybee, I think you're more nervous than I am.” The fingers of your hand stop gingerly massaging into the muscle between Copper’s alert ears, eyes meeting Tyler’s unnervingly calm ones. You sighed, bringing your hand down to softly stroke the stallion’s velvet muzzle, looking back out at the arena that would be vacant for only a few moments more. “It's just the anticipation is all.”

He swallowed, dipping his heels down further against his stirrups, his weight settling on the back of the palomino American Quarter Horse. His thumb running along the smooth leather reins in his moderately calloused hands, his posture straightening. Tipping his hat on his head, eyes drifting from your almost perfect facade of calm collection to the no longer virginal arena footing.

He gingerly scratched at Copper’s strong, gilded withers and neck concealed by the silken, alabaster strands of his freshly detangled mane, easing any anxiety the 10 year old stallion may have had.

“Copper will take care of me out there, and I'm coming back, Sweets” his lip quirked into a gentle smirk, letting your anxiety ease a bit.

Copper gently nudged you with his head, trying to get one last scratch in before entering. Or maybe to try to reassure you. “I know, I-,” you took a breath, licking your lips,” just really want this for you, and we're so close. I can taste it.”

His eyes glazed a bit, a special kind of warmth spreading in his chest. You had helped him hitch the trailer to pick up Copper from the auction a few townships over back in his early twenties. You were the one who was with him every step of the way, through every high and frustrating low of training him and getting him ready for every competition. You were the one to stay up all night with him when Copper coliced during a muggy spring night a few years back. You were the one who encouraged him to try reining after his bull riding rodeo career came to a halt. You were the one to hide out with him on his family's ranch in Arkansas during the summer thunderstorms in the hayloft as kids and lovesick teenagers. And you were the first person he got to kiss out in the back field after the haying season was done, laying under the cover of Cassiopeia and The Big Dipper with homemade strawberry moonshine. It made the wedding band on a chain around his neck all the more meaningful. The microphone crackled as the announcer cleared his throat, announcing for Tyler to enter the arena.

“Come on, baby, I need my good luck kiss before I go out there.” His urgent, but sweet, tone made you chuckle. Stepping on your tippy toes, you met his lips that only seemed to get softer the more you kissed him. As your lips left his, you gave the stallion that gleamed like a new penny under the stadium lights a last, quick rub at his withers and a whispered “take care of him for me.” The stallion nudged his pink and gray muzzle into your side, letting out a puff of breath, seeming to listen and affirm your wish.

You turned back to the man you had loved since you were a sophmore in highschool. “You'll get something a lot more when you come back.” You said softly with a flirtatious tone, trying to lighten the nerves that seemed to electrify your fingertips. Your eyes told an unspoken “whether you win, or lose.” His eyebrows rise before a smirk settles on his lips. “Looking forward to it darlin,” he winks before turning his attention to the packed arena. He gives the stallion a gentle squeeze of his sides with his calves to get him into a working walk, head low, and relaxed as his metal shoe-clad hooves rhythmically ricocheted off the pavement leading up to the arena as applause and whistles from the crowd marked his entrance like a gladiator entering the Colosseum. You watched him leave your side with bated breath.

You always envied how he was able to feed off of the crowd instead of cowering under it, even when he was getting tossed around as a professional bull rider in the local rodeo circuit. It was a trait that Tyler and Copper had in common that made them a perfect pair.

You watched each calculated movement he whispered to Copper through his hands, legs, and seat. Each movement done in perfect harmony, from flying lead changes to each heart racing spin and rollback. You practically knew the routine like the back of your hand, softly mouthing the required movements right as Tyler and Copper conducted them with complete poise and confidence. You couldn’t help but let your eyes flit back and forth from the golden stallion enrapturing the attention of the crowd and the judges scribbling down notes that had the potential to cut like a blade. Tyler had a calm, at-ease aura around him; his hands still with just the right amount of contact on the reins, loose hips and strong legs that wrapped around the barrel of the strong, powerful, and graceful horse below him. Copper’s ears kept at ease, each one flitting back to listen to each whispered task Tyler gave him. His mane and tail swayed beautifully with the rest of his muscular, golden dappled frame; steel horseshoes gleaming under the large overhead lights. You felt your anxiety rise as Tyler only had one maneuver left to accomplish- a sliding stop from a full gallop, the most exhilarating maneuver in reining.

Your breath felt like lead in your lungs as you watched each stride Copper took to complete his routine. With an impressive stall of his hind quarters, Copper planted himself against the arena footing to come to a full stop, his hind legs slightly folding under him as Tyler kept his body steady. The arena went quiet for only a second as Copper found his footing, remaining in a halt. As soon as the judges gave Tyler the go ahead to leave the arena, you jumped up in glee, applauding and whistling, just like the entirety of the arena as Tyler gave Copper a loose rein, giving his strong neck deligent pats of encouragement and rubbing his withers as he made his way out of the arena at a working walk pace. After all, he had earned it.

But would it be enough to win?

You couldn’t contain the smile on your face as Tyler met your gaze with a heart stopping grin, his handsome dimples on display, timothy grass green eyes shining for you as his chest rose and fell from his exertion, and the sweat evident under his Stetson at his hairline.

As soon as he cleared the in-gate, he was out of the saddle and embracing you, lips on yours as you giggled against him as he picked you up and spun you around, your fingers splayed over his stubbly cheeks. Copper stood patiently as his reins hit the cement floor. Your fingers resting at the back of his neck, feeling his sweat, natural scent, and the smell of leather and horses caress your senses.

“I’m so proud of you, baby,” you said, voice thick with tears bubbling beneath your eyes as your hands encased his gently stubbled cheeks, his grin matching your own, voice thick, “Honey, whatever happens, I’m-,” his eyes becoming glassy, “I’m just so glad I’ve been able to do this with you. I love you so goddamn much.” He brought your lips back to his in a sweet, love filled kiss that made your stomach flutter. The crackle of the microphone breaks you both away from your kiss, his embrace still on your hips. Tyler cranes his neck to look up at the JumboTron.

Your eyes widening, putting your hands over your mouth and looking up at Tyler’s shock-parted lips as the arena broke into cheers. Tyler swings you around by your hips before bringing you to his lips again.

A perfect score.

—

As soon as Tyler rode out on Copper with you by his side during the award ceremony, and your picture was taken with his NRHA Championship trophy and Copper got his red, blue, and yellow tri-colored ribbon, you both were ready to load up Copper and drive all the way back to Arkansas.

Photographers, interviewers, and cameras followed your little group out of the arena. Tyler and Copper both walked with pride in a way that showed a healthy balance of confidence and natural charisma. Copper not once flinched as cameras flashed as Tyler had him periodically stop for interviewers to ask questions, reins loose in his hand. Copper seemed to almost pose for the camera with his ears forward and moving with momentum whenever the cameras flashed; aware that he had done a good job and was being appreciated. You, on the other hand, preferred to be on the other side of Copper’s strong withers, away from the cameras, gently running your hand along his glistening coat; it took you and Tyler countless hours for it to gleam like gold.

“Who would you say is someone who has always supported you on the road to winning this NRHA world championship title?”

You felt like you were hiding behind the near two ton animal, peeking over his strong neck to watch Tyler with his tipped up Stetson and near alabaster dress shirt. He turned from the interviewer to you with an easy grin on his face, gently reaching behind him to take your hand from underneath Copper’s neck, bringing you around his large head and into Tyler’s chest, placing a kiss to your forehead. You couldn’t help the blush that spread across your cheeks like wildfire as you gave the interviewer a shy toothy smile.

“I’ve had the undeserved pleasure to have by my side, during this entire journey, the most beautiful woman I’ve ever known; my wife.” You felt your throat tighten and tears start to bubble up in your eyes at his gesture, all while trying to subtly hide away into his shoulder as the interviewer seemed to soak up the sweet moment between the new NRHA world champion and his wife.

“You’ll have to forgive her, my honeybee’s a bit shy.” he chuckled, the interviewer following suit before asking her final questions with you by his side.

As the last of the interviewers left to talk to the other competitors, you and Tyler led Copper back to the trailer to get him bedded in the trailer for the long way home.

You tried to keep your thoughts pure as you walked through the trucks and trailers with Copper in tow, passing competitors that turned into friends; like Bradley Bradshaw and his oil black quarter horse gelding, Turn and Burn, and Natasha Trace and her sorrel chestnut mare, Rising Phoenix. Both of which had gotten in the top 5 tonight out of 38.

But Tyler looked too good right now. Too good. And his display of affection in front of the interviewer made your insides warm and jumble inside you.

His hair peeking out from under his stetson, the color subdued from sweat; his taut jeans around his slim waist; his obnoxiously large belt buckle that glimmered in the overhead lot lights; his flushed, sweat soaked skin; bright, fern green eyes, and the defined line of his jaw to his handsome dimples.

It didn’t help that you got distracted watching him tend to Copper as you put the tack in the trailer, biting your lip as you watched the thin material of his shirt cling to his back muscles.

“Honeybee, you alright over there?” You almost needed to shake your head out of your trance, before trying to quickly put the tack away in the closet of the trailer, trying to focus on the task at hand and not on your lewd thoughts.

As soon as you turned around from putting the tack away, Tyler was at the entryway. Both hands on the edge of the storage space prevented any chance of escape, sluttily leaning his weight on the frame like the scantily-clad men in those romance books Tyler always teased you for reading. He didn’t have anything to complain about though; he reaped the reward of it everytime.

Your eyes met his mischief filled ones. “You got something on your mind, Honey?”

You diverted your gaze from his eyes to his Stetson. He noticed, promptly removing it and placing it over his denim-clad pelvis with a teasing smile as he saw your eyes follow his movement. He always loved the dust of pink on your cheeks when he flirted with you. He took a step into the trailer, feeling his intoxicating scent invade your senses.

You took a step forward, letting your eyes obscenely run over from his sweat-slicked back hair, to the slight crook in his nose, to his plush lips. Leaning into his ear, “I’ll tell you once Copper is in the trailer. Fed and watered.” Tyler almost shivered at the barely decent tone you used. You both were in a public space for Christ’s sake.

“Yes, ma’am.”

You bit your lip, a chuckle vibrating in your chest at his pace towards the patient stallion grazing from his well deserved hay bag as soon the words left your lips.

—

After ensuring all of your belongings were packed away, you went to check on Tyler and Copper. As you turned the corner, Tyler was just finishing up putting the latches on the trailer. “How’s our big guy doing?” You asked, leaning against the side of the trailer.

He turned to you, “fed, watered, and out like a light. Copper’s going to sleep well on the ride home. Gave him a few extra flakes of hay to keep him occupied.”

“Now,” he took a step closer to you, a smirk painted across his lips, “I wanna hear what was on your mind earlier, pretty girl,” he purred.

You took a step closer to him with a flirtatious smile blooming on your face, reaching out for his belt loops on his jeans.

—

“Honeybee,” he whimpered, heading hitting back against his truck as you sunk to the dusty ground beneath your knees, scrambling to unbuckle his obnoxiously large belt buckle, and unzipping his denim jeans with a harsh tug. He hissed, “careful, sweets, don't want to damage the goods,” you chuckled before bringing his jeans down to his knees. His breath freezing in his throat as you ran your palms against his defined Adonis belt and abs, scratching at the hair of his happy trail as your smooth palm found its home - wrapped around his thick, pulsing cock in his briefs. Tyler's eyes clenched shut, a hiss leaking from his kiss-swollen lips as you began to pump him in a corkscrew motion. God, he looked so good like this. Letting you take care of him and make him crumble beneath the palms of your hands.

“Jesus, sweetheart.” His hips stuttered as you gave his oh so sensitive, engorged tip delicate kitten licks before taking him into your mouth, sucking softly. Eyes drifting shut as you savored the subtle musk of your husband and the salty taste of the precum leaking out of his cock. You hummed around his dick as his fingers weaved into your hair, keeping his cock encased in your hot mouth.

Jesus, the glorious sight in your mind- Tyler’s head and Stetson tipped back, lips agape, cheeks flushed pink with sweat and arousal, dress shirt unbuttoned, strong abdominal and pectoral muscles exposed from years of ranch work, hips jutting out as his jeans and briefs tethered his ankles as you worked his fat cock.

A sound akin to a mewl left his lips as you bobbed your head along his length, working his cock with your saliva soaked hand.

“Oh fu- baby, that feels so fucking good.” His graveled voice made you clench your thighs, his eyes opening to see you pumping his cock as you playfully sucked on his balls. Saliva dribbling down your lips to the dirt below, leaving your mark on the event grounds. Your sinful acts hidden in the shadows of your truck and trailer.

This was definitely the best way to celebrate a world championship win, he thought through a hazy conscience as he failed to find a steady tempo of breath.

You could feel the tightness of his balls and the steady throbbing of the vein running underneath his thick cock. His fingers tightening in your hair.

“God-Fuck-” His trail of words were cut off with a deep groan he tried to muffle the best he could.

His hand kept your mouth around his cock as he shot his load down your welcoming throat, letting you swallow every hot drop he had to give. His body slumping against the truck, catching his breath as you rose up off the dirt, tenderly tucking him back into his jeans, bringing your lips to his.

After a few moments, Tyler deepened the kiss, reaching for the backseat door. He broke away from your lips, littering your neck and collarbones with messy, open-mouthed kisses. Your lips would get swollen soon from how hard you were biting them to conceal your mewls. His hands palmed and toyed with your cotton-clad breasts, feeling his calloused fingers slide under your t-shirt to fondle at your steadily peaking nipples. “Baby, we might need to do this half-clothed,” you murmured against his lips. He let his lips leave yours, realizing where you guys were: on the outskirts of the arena grounds.

“Well, Honeybee, we’ll just have to do it with your pants down then, pretty girl.” He smiled sinfully. His gravelly tone always made you clench your thighs in need, and feel excited and jittery inside; like a new-born foal learning to run.

He stripped off his dress shirt, leaving him with chest and abs exposed in the shadow of the truck. Before you had the chance to admire his half-bare body, he was unzipping your jeans and pulling them down along with your panties in one fell swoop. He guided your legs out of them before placing his beloved Stetson on your head. The sight of you bare below the waist and his white stetson had his cock twitching again.

He hopped on the seat, laying down on the leather upholstery. “Come on, honey girl, get up here. I want a taste.” He purred, eyes raking from your face down to the little honey stash between your thighs with a Cheshire-like grin.

You chuckled, excitement thrumming through your belly like a current of electricity. His hands guided your hips over his twitching dick, over his thick pecs, and right above where he wanted you. Your breath catches in your throat as Tyler brings your hips down with his broad hands, clutching at your soft waist as he starts lapping at your drenched core.

“Fuck, Ty-” you clutched at his tufts of hair that peaked through your fingers, like the daisies in the hayfields. He toyed with your clit, his stubble scratching deliciously against your sensitive inner thighs. He gently sucked on your clit to pull each sweet moan and gasp from your lips. His thick fingers forming troughs along the soft flesh of your hips and thighs, keeping your weeping pussy pinned above his eager mouth.

“Please.”

He grunted as your hips rocked against him, his grip tightening on your hips, guiding your movements. Your head tipping back as your thoughts failed to construe into something tangible besides broken moans and words. It’s amazing how Tyler’s Stetson has stayed on during your impromptu ride.

God, the sight he had from below your thighs; black t-shirt riding up to just below your bra, your hands clutching at his hair and your covered breasts, beautiful parted lips, reddened cheeks and his staple atop your head.

You looked divine like this. Hell, you were divine for wanting to marry him in the first place.

He gave your clit a delicate kiss, just enough to make you whine a little. Littering kisses along your inner thighs, feeling the tender flesh quake above him as you protested him giving attention to places that weren’t where you needed him to be. He licked his lips savoring the sweet taste of you on his tongue, and gently teased two fingers at your entrance making you gasp and whimper at the intrusion.

“Baby, you look so good from down here, so fucking good.”

His graveled voice was marked by a unique breathlessness that times like these brought him. Your hands pushed your t-shirt up and your bra down to toy with your exposed breasts and perky nipples as the Oklahoma evening air pebbled them. Your hazy gaze looking downward at your lover’s tousled hair, flushed cheeks and lust-blown pupils with a characteristic devilish grin on his arousal soaked lips.

“Fuck, baby”

He smiled as he guided his fingers into your welcoming heat, your pretty moans music to his ears.

His fingers finding the perfect tempo against that little spot inside you that made your toes curl against the upholstery of the car. His free hand holding an iron grip on your hip, keeping you steady.

If you hadn’t felt like you were going to cum before, you were now.

Tyler could feel your velvet walls constrict around his welcomed digits. A soft yelp leaves your lips as he finds your clit again; toying and sucking at the delicate bundle of nerves at the apex of your thighs. He sucked harder the more you pulled at his hair.

“Tyler, I’m so close, please make me cum baby-please.”

The wanton, sultry tone your voice got in this state made him ache in his jeans and move his fingers that much more eagerly.

You felt the familiar build up of pleasure in your tummy and the sparks of pleasure traveling from your toes. Tyler watched as you fell apart over him with a wracked moan of his name as his fingers continued to rub that special spot inside you, and as he continued to toy with your poor, abused clit.

He slowed his movements to a halt, letting his fingers leave to hold your hips steady, bringing his lips to languidly kiss and lathe at your cum soaked folds, drawing out any last sparks of pleasure and the sweet, little noises you always made for him.

Your thighs shook with the aftermath of your orgasm, your body still ringing with small sparks of pleasure and sensitivity, your whimpers pouring out.

He lathed his last set of kisses to your pussy before sliding your hips down to rest over his throbbing dick, hidden behind a layer of denim.

Tyler brought both hands to encase your face, bringing your lips to his in a kiss full of teeth and tongue, your mouth going to the prominent vein on the side of his neck, lathing and marking the flesh as your own, spurred on by the deep groans of the man underneath you. He growled, feeling you bite into the skin there. It would surprise him if you didn’t draw blood.

“I want to ride your thick cock, baby.” you simpered.

“Fuck, you make me so hard, Honeybee.” He growled, feeling you unzip his jeans, pulling out his aching cock and lining him up at your entrance. Gently teasing the tip, running it along your folds, letting it soak up your arousal. You smirked as you listened to the borderline moans that reverberated from his chest. He felt his eyes almost roll back at the feeling of your walls welcoming him in; back home. You watched with lust hazed eyes as his face was consumed with tension; his eyes clenched shut, brow lines rippling the tanned skin of his forehead, his tense jaw and kiss swollen lips.

He guided your hips, savoring the feeling of you. His hips bucking up into your awaiting pussy as he got more and more invigorated for his release.

“Fuck, Honey-fuck!” He growled as he felt your walls squeeze him for all he was worth.

“God, you’re always so good for me, such a good fucking girl” he said as he held your hips tighter, fucking up into you at a faster pace than before. Gasps and moans falling from your lips as he pummeled that sweet, heavenly spot inside you that had you seeing a kaleidoscope of sensations behind your eyes, and your fingers clawing at his pecs and shoulders for stability. Tyler could feel the coil in his stomach tightening as his release was barreling towards him like a train going into a station. His abs tightening, pace unrelenting as he chased his high. He could feel you were close with this new set pace, your lips parted as sweet sounds echoed from your lips. He held on until he felt your walls snap close on him like a vice, your thighs shaking as your high washed over him with a broken moan and tremor. His hips rose, fucking into you one last time before releasing his hot load into your pretty pussy with a deep growl.

—

He gingerly pulled up your panties, keeping his cum trapped between your folds. He snapped the button of your jeans closed as he languidly made out with you. He changed into a t-shirt that hugged his biceps just right, keeping his jeans on. You both silently changed into your new set of clothes with content, lovesick smiles on your face. You gave him a kiss as he passed you his sweatshirt to wear during the ride home.

You both settled into the front seat of the truck. By now, most people had gone home, the bright stars above watching over you. He placed his Stetson on the backseat, smirking as he watched you reach out for the cowboy hat, placing it on your head with a cute smile that made him smirk and shake his head.

He leaned over, placing a soft kiss to your lips.

“I love you, Honeybee.”

“I love you too, Ty.”

You give his thick thigh a squeeze, smiling as he groans into the kiss. He pulled black from the kiss, putting the truck into drive. As soon as his hand is free, he takes your hand in his, making your cheeks warm at the gesture, kissing the back of it as he pulls out of the dirt road onto the interstate towards Arkansas.

Let me know what you guys think :) Be sure to leave a comment and reblog :) My inbox is always open to requests and any thoughts you have <3

@marvel-hotchner @nemesis729 @a-lil-bit-nuts @justagirllivinginaghibliworld @mizzzpink @themusingofagothicsoul @sebsxphia @potato-girl99981 @a-beaverhausen @withahappyrefrain @hangmans-wingman @callmemana @joalslibrary @peachiicherries @whiskeyswriting @entertainmentgirl80

@jkbindigo11 @princess76179 @clancycucumber230 @teacupsandtopgun

@chaoticassidy @superskittles @cherrycola27 @cheekymcgrath @h-ngm-ns @emma8895eb @djs8891 @novastories @urmom-999 @taytaylala12 @zombicupcake3 @catsficrecs @abaker74 @kmc1989 @hangmanshoney @caidi-paris @i-wanna-be-your-muse @shara-ne @memeorydotcom @memoriesat30 @shanimallina87 @whoeverineedtobe @gigisimsonmars @slippinginto-theairwaves

#tyler owens #tyler owens x reader #glen powell #twisters 2024 #twisters #tyler owens imagine #tyler owens fanfiction #whatislovevavy

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anonziesssz · 1 month ago

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Exclusive Scoop: Love on the Grid

✦- Authors Note: isaw this in my drafts and decided to post it, might also be my last fanfic on tumblr cuz i js dont rlly like tumblr anymore idk but i'll still be posting blue lock fanfics on ao3 ig...

✦- pairings: Carlos Sainx jr x Journalist!reader.

✦- summary: After interviewing him for so long, carlos dcides to take the reader for a date, finally confessing his feeling for the journalist.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

You had always felt that the interview was much more than asking questions; it was a dance of finding a balance between curiosity and rapport. It was your mantra as a motorsport journalist, and it worked quite well. From coverage of Formula 2 to interviews with world champions, you had carved yourself a little nook within the paddock.

Among the many faces you’d come to know in the sport, Carlos Sainz stood out. From your first interaction during his Toro Rosso days to now, as Ferrari’s pride, he’d always been gracious, witty, and effortlessly charming. Over the years, your interviews with him had evolved into something more. Something that felt personal.

But it was still work. That's what you kept telling yourself as you navigated your way toward the Ferrari hospitality area on a steamy Saturday in Singapore.

The paddock was alive with energy, the air alive with the purring of engines and the chatter of fans and teams. You spotted Carlos leaning against the railing, his red Ferrari cap slightly askew as he laughed at something said by an engineer.

"Carlos," you called, stepping closer. He turned, his grin widening as he spotted you.

"Ah, mi periodista favorita!" he exclaimed, pushing off the railing. "Here to ask me why I'm so good around street circuits?"

"Maybe I'm here to ask why you're so insufferable," you shot back, smirking as you adjusted the strap of your bag.

He clutched his chest dramatically. "You wound me. I thought we were friends."

"Pals who pose the tough questions," you shot back, digging for your recorder.

The interview flowed as smoothly as ever, with Carlos giving thoughtful answers to your questions while sprinkling in his usual humor.

He spoke of strategy, his confidence in the car, and the challenges of Singapore's grueling track. But there were the moments his gaze would land on you, his tone softening as if this conversation meant more than just a headline.

You always ask good questions," he said out of the blue, and he caught you by surprise.

"Thanks," you said, blinking at the sincerity in his voice. "I try to keep it interesting."

"You do," he said, his lips curving into a small, almost shy smile.

It was one of those moments that just hung in the air, making you slightly flustered and scrambling to wrap up the interview. As you were about to leave, Carlos seemed to have hesitated.

"Do you have plans tonight?" he asked casually, though looking uncharacteristically nervous.

"Just editing this interview," you said with a tilt of your head. "Why?

Carlos shifted, scratching the back of his neck. "I was wondering if you'd like to have dinner with me. Not just as a journalist," he added hastily. "As you."

Your heart skipped a beat. It wasn't every day that a Formula 1 driver- Carlos Sainz no less-asked you out.

"I'd love to," you said, a smile spreading across your face.

Back in the hotel room, one could not help but have the evening weigh upon their shoulders. Was this dinner? Or was this something entirely else? Carlos was being friendly, always, but this felt very different. A hesitant kind of nervousness in him all that evening betrayed something deeper.

You dismissed the thoughts and began to get ready. You put on an outfit that was just right-balanced between chic and casual enough to feel confident with but not overdone.

Then, when Carlos texted to let you know he was downstairs, you grabbed your bag and began to head toward the lobby.

He stood waiting beside the car, his caramel skin set off by a crisp, white button-down shirt. He grinned when he caught your eye and opened the door with a flourish.

"You look beautiful," he said, his voice husky.

"Thank you," you said, your face warming. "You clean up pretty well yourself."

The restaurant Carlos had selected, La Perla, was tucked away from busy thoroughfares in Singapore-a little jewel of a place. Darkened light and soft live guitar music playing made the setting intimate.

Carlos pulled out a chair for you; his hand brushed against yours as you sat down. "Hope you like Spanish," he said with a grin.

"I'd be worried if you didn't take me to a Spanish restaurant," you teased, drawing a laugh.

The meal was a real culinary masterpiece: plates of jamón ibérico, perfectly cooked seafood, rich paella -all shared between you as conversation flowed effortlessly.

"So," said Carlos, leaning back against the chair, "tell me something about yourself that I don't know."

An eyebrow had arched. "That's a tough one. You've asked me a lot of questions over the years."

"Exactly," he said, eyes shining with play. "Now it's my turn to be the journalist."

You'd considered for a minute before responding with, "Okay. I never actually planned on being a motorsport journalist. I went to school for literature."

"Literature?" Carlos leaned forward, interest piqued. "How did you end up here?

It was a sideline, you continued, "Doing a few local races for this little magazine, and then I was hooked. The energy of it all just drew me in. The rest is history."

Carlos nodded thoughtfully. "You're good at it. Really good."

"Thank you," you said softly, feeling a blush creep up your cheeks.

He leaned across the table, his fingers brushing yours. "I mean it. You're more than just good-you're one of the best."

After dinner, Carlos suggested a walk along the waterfront. The city's lights reflected from the water, making a shimmering backdrop as the two of you strolled side by side.

"Do you always sweet-talk your way through interviews?" You asked, looking up at him.

"Only when the journalist happens to be someone special," he returned, smooth and low, sending your heart fluttering for cover.

You rolled your eyes, though couldn't suppress the smile tugging at your lips. "Is this your way of saying I'm the favourite?"

"Absolutamente," he replied deadpan, though with a naughty glint in his eye.

You laughed, shaking your head. "Careful, Carlos. People might start talking."

"Let them," he said, stopping in his tracks.

You turned to face him, your breath hitching as his gaze locked onto yours. "What is it?" you asked softly.

"I've been thinking about this for a long time," he admitted, his voice steady but quiet. "Every time I saw you in the paddock, I wanted to say something, but I didn't know how. Tonight, I realized I didn't want to wait anymore."

Your heart pounded as he stepped closer, his hands gently cradling your face. "Life's too short not to take a chance," he murmured, before leaning in.

The kiss was soft and tentative at first, but as you responded, it deepened, filled with all the emotions words couldn't express.

When you finally pulled away, Carlos rested his head against yours, the tiniest of smiles on his lips. "This feels right," he whispered.

"It does," you replied, your voice not much above a whisper.

As you sat reviewing your interview notes the next morning, you just couldn't help but smile. The professional line you'd always maintained had blurred, and for the first time in your career, you didn't mind.

It was as if Carlos had changed something inside you-he had reminded you that it wasn't just the stories you told, but those you lived.

And as your phone buzzed with the new message from him, that is when you realized this was only just the very beginning of your own inspiring story.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

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seobover · 4 months ago

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needy jongseob because in my mind he was just an awkward inexperienced guy before he met you !!!

kinda (or very) sub!seob, soft dom!reader, (but a hint at the end that they're both switches) handjob, slight overstim, nicknames, kissing, SO WHINY JONGSEOB, aftercare, reader n seob are the same age

first post kinda nervous 😳 i’m not fully fluent in english plz don’t bully me

nsfw under the cut

you love the way jongseob looks up at you through his eyelashes. his lips are parted slightly, his gaze full of need, his breath coming out slightly ragged. he's so unbelievably horny, and it's more apparent than ever.

"please," he whispers with a slight whine. "please touch me.."

"needy, aren't we?" you hum teasingly. he lifts his hips up, whining again.

"it's been too long.." he pouts slightly. "and you always make me feel so good."

"yeah?" you hum, moving your hand up his thigh teasingly.

"i'll be good for you, i'll be so good, please, just touch me," he pleads.

he sounds so beautiful, and you can't help but comply. you tug at the waistband of his sweatpants before pulling them down to reveal his erection.

he lets out a soft moan as the colder air of the room hits his exposed skin. he's completely hard, his cock twitching slightly as he waits for your touch.

you smirk at the amount of pre-cum leaking out of him. "i haven't even touched you and you're already making a mess, huh?" you tease.

"i can't help it," the blonde breathes out. "you make me so needy.."

"what do you need?" you hum.

"need you to make me cum," he mumbles nervously, his voice barely audible.

"speak up, sweetheart."

"make me cum, please, i'll be good," jongseob says desperately.

you let out a low, approving hum before wrapping your fingers around his dick. he lets out a breathy whimper, his hips bucking uo needily.

you begin stroking him, your movements slow and teasing at first.

"i'm.. so close already," he moans.

"hold it, baby," you command softly, making him whine slightly.

you speed up your strokes, making him moan loudly. he tries to hold it in, he really does, but you're making it impossible for him.

he lets out pathetic, breathy moans as your skilled movements guide him closer to the edge. his fingers dig into the bedsheets as he tries to hold his release for a bit longer.

"i'll- i'm cumming," he gasps, unable to control himself any more. you don't have time to react before he shoots his sperm out, painting his lower stomach and your hand.

you smirk at the sight of him falling apart, and you continue stroking his spent cock through his release.

he squirms under your touch, the slight overstimulation you're giving him mixing in with the pleasure of his orgasm.

"so sensitive," he whimpers. "kiss me?"

your smirk melts into a soft smile at his request, and you lean down to press your lips on his. the kiss is short but sweet, leaving you both craving for more.

you let go of his now softening cock, reaching for a wet towel you prepared earlier. you clean him up gently, before you press a soft peck on his lips.

"you did so well," you hum softly. he smiles sleepily. "you too," he whispers back.

"don't fall asleep yet, we have to change the sheets," you say with a soft giggle.

"we can change them later," jongseob murmurs, reaching his arms out to wrap them around your waist and pull you close. "want to be close to you," he whispers.

you wrap your arms around him in return, and he nuzzles his head in the crook of your neck.

you lay in silence for a few moments before he speaks up. "i'll fuck you so good tomorrow, if you'll let me," he murmurs against your neck.

you chuckle softly. "is that a promise?"

"absolutely. i love you."

"i love you more."

a/n: i don't like my writing here but um. yeah! i haven't written in english in so long.. lmk if y'all enjoyed ^^

this was lowkey soo rushed.. my piwon fanfic writer debut anyway LOL lmk if anyone wants to be moots

#jongseob smut #jongseob x reader #jongseob imagines #jongseob fluff #p1harmony x reader #p1harmony smut #p1harmony imagines #p1harmony hard hours #p1harmony hard thoughts #jongseob hard hours #jongseob x you #kim jongseob #p1h jongseob #piwon smut #p1harmony x you

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pigdemonart · 2 years ago

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Battle Subway Depot Agents (by pig-demon)

When I made designs for these guys last year I didn’t really think they needed colored references/master post, but since then I’ve drawn them a lot! Also people have added them to their fanfics and drawn fanart! So I figured it was time I made a post for easy ref. :]

These designs are obviously free to use, just give credit (and link me your work if you're comfortable, because it makes me happy to see!) All I request is to stay respectful to their pronouns and skin colors, ya knooow… 👍 note: The pokemon on their cards are all companions, not the ones they use on the Battle Subway. Except Jackie...the litwicks are just there to fill space/give them company.

More info under cut:

Edit: Important disclaimer:

These are again my designs/interpretations for the agents. Please don’t treat them as canon or as the only, quintessential designs for these literal background npcs. Many people have done takes on them before and after me, even back in 2010. It feels silly to ask, but due to past experience, I ask that you please DONT hunt down anyone that does a different take on the depot agents!! 👍

Tags:

I'm gonna start tagging them individually, but for now all Depot Agent comics and art on this blog are tagged under Depot Agents.

Height chart:

I’m not too strict about heights, so I don’t really care about actual measurements. Here’s an approximation of what I tend to visualize though:

Sexualities/Gender Identities: I don't have official labels for each and every agent because I like keeping things fluid for characters to develop these traits on their own. However, as a queer person, I enjoy designing characters who are also queer, therefore I can safely say none of these characters are straight. The ones who are set in stone are Ramses (gay man), Cloud (lesbian woman,) Jackie (non-binary.) Furze uses he/they pronouns but their gender is undetermined. I also welcome anyone giving the agents a different gender identity to suit them (as long as it's done respectfully.)

Notes about each agent...

Cameron:

- Cameron dyes parts of his hair blonde and keeps other parts in black. This is because he is a big fan of Elesa and her fashion choices. - Though there have been a few occasions to meet his idol, he is always way too nervous to approach her, feeling deep down that he'll mess up somehow. - He practices modeling poses in secret. He loves flourishes and flare, but is simply too insecure to put it on display. - Of his coworkers, he gets along the best with Furze. He's the easiest to talk to because Furze will do most of the talking. - Cameron is easily intimidated — even mean Pokémon can make him nervous. Though, his two worst fears are being left in a room alone with Jackie, and being left alone in a room with Isadore. - He takes advantage of his height to sometimes hide behind some of his coworkers. - Cameron is much better at Pokémon battles than he gives himself credit for. Emmet and Ingo were pleasantly surprised by this, since Cameron was promoted to fit a temporary role on the Battle Subway. They happily made him a permanent member when he proved himself capable. - His Dwebble (Pebby) is secretly very strong, and rushes to protect Cameron when it can. Cam sometimes thinks Pebby helps him feel more confident in himself too. - If he stumbled into any of his coworkers outside of work, he would simply explode of embarrassment. - He is the youngest child and only son of his family. He lives in his own apartment in Nimbasa.

Cloud:

- Cloud (like Ramses) knew the twins when they were very young. - She used to be an ace trainer in her youth, even going so far to compete in the Pokémon league. Winning and becoming the champ was the most important part of her journey, but something happened along the way that changed that outlook. - It seems with age, her competitiveness has mellowed out. However, she maintains an intense energy when battling. - Her favorite types are Psychic and Flying types. Swoobat (Sweetie) is her ace. - Her favorite hobby is baking, and she often bakes sweets for the crew. She knows all their favorite flavors by now! - She prioritizes keeping a friendly relationship with all her coworkers and thinks of them fondly. She considers Ramses family after all the years of working together! - She is a big fan of Brycen's movies and can recite the lines. - She lives with her wife in Anville. - Cloud loves doing maintenance work both at home and in Gear Station. She enjoys bringing her own tools and industrial flashlight.

Furze:

- Furze only has one volume setting (mid loud,) but he finds himself feeling right at home when talking to either one of the twins. - Furze has ADHD, and this is reflected in some of his habits, most visibly is his fidgeting when sitting still for too long. - He rides a bike to work every day. When he is late, Cloud clocks in for him so he doesn't get in trouble. - This is a kind of a guy that sits crouched gargoyle style on chairs. Only outside of work, of course. Bad posture could get him in trouble. - While working on the Battle Subway, there will be times Furze feels sorry for his opponents and offers to quietly let them pass anyways. This...has also gotten him in trouble. :[ - He went to the same elementary school as Isadore in Castelia. Though Isadore seems to have forgotten their short-lived acquaintance, Furze has not. This is part of the reason Furze claims they are in fact good friends!!! - Furze is the middle child of a big family. He lives with his mom and takes care of her, along with his many Darumakas and Darmanitan. All of his Pokemon have famous trains names. - He collects model trains. Naturally.

Isadore

- Isadore had plans to become the station master the moment he was hired as a depot agent, but alas... (sad trumpet sound.) - As a youth, he was more interested in science and engineering over Pokemon battles. He enjoys the strategizing aspect, at most. Not so much the competitiveness. - In addition, his Pokemon are all rescues and not used for battling. He's had his Watchog (Winston) since he was in his late teens. - His Electrode (Gregor) and Voltorb (Leonard) were rescued from the likes of Team Plasma. - Isadore admits he understands Pokemon better than humans. This has been apparent his whole life. - In spite of acting like a sitcom villain, Isadore cares about the management of Gear Station and the safety of the passengers to an incredible degree. He sees it as a personal life goal to assist in the management of Gear Station, as well as the success of the Battle Subway. - Though it pained him to become a subordinate to the twins, he begrudgingly accepts it for the greater good. - His almost militant efficiency certainly made up for his years of antagonizing the twins before they became the bosses. Ingo and Emmet understand this better than anyone. - Isadore keeps tabs on all of the staff members. So he very well knows all their birthdays and makes it a point to celebrate it. This is by no means a -happy- or -festive- event. It's just customary. - Like Furze, he was originally from Castelia, but now resides in Nimbasa. Isadore's only family is his mom and she lives in his childhood home with their Stoutland. - Isadore would have probably been voiced by every glasses guy ever J. Michael Tatum had he not already been cast as dear Emmet lmao

Jackie

- Jackie is a mystery and they like keeping it that way. When they talk, it's practically impossible to determine what is a lie or truth, especially if the subject is themselves or their background. - They love scaring Cameron the most and will ask to be paired with him whenever possible. They claim Cameron is their "favorite coworker," while Isadore is the least favorite. - It's plain to see why -- Jackie is the only one that doesn't passively tolerate Isadore's tirades. - Though my comics sometimes may allude to Jackie being a ghost/supernatural, this is not confirmed nor canon. I just personally enjoy toying with the concept. : ) That being said...

- Item #: SCP 7453

- Object Class: Euclid

- Special Containment Procedures: The ████ ██████ is ██████ within ████-██████. - Ingo and Emmet choose to not question anything about Jackie, since it's clear they're one of the more efficient workers. However it can be a safety concern... - Cloud and Ramses have worked with Jackie for a long time, though they've forgotten somehow. They believe Jackie is a new hire since they appear to be young. - Anyone trying to make sense of Jackie's employee records simply can't bring themselves to any conclusions. It's better to ignore the inconsistencies. - Jackie has never been seen to leave Gear Station. Jackie has never been seen in anything but their uniform. Jackie has never been confirmed to eat, drink or blink. Jackie knows your secrets. Jackie thinks it's... amusing.

Ramses

- Ramses sometimes misses having a full head of hair, but he thinks his signs of age make him look distinguished. (he is correct.) - Ramses is sort of the "mom friend," making sure everyone's concerns are heard, as well as trying to keep the peace whenever a conflict might arise. - If another coworker is feeling low, Ramses will try to cheer them up with a lighthearted joke or offer advice if they'd like it. - When the twins were promoted to bosses of the Battle Subway, Ramses cried because he felt so proud. - In most circumstances, he is a very simple and logical man. He is quick to find solutions and tries not to fret over the little stuff. It's not good for his heart after all. - His ace is his Pikachu (Musa,) though the mouse is more of a lap pet now. At home, he also has an Audino (Sara) and a Manectric (Nubi) who keep Ramses' husband company. His Klinklang (Moli) is the only one of his personal pokemon that accompany him to work nowadays. - Ramses considers Cloud family. They are best friends and love having family gatherings outside of work. They also gossip a lot, and don't mind when Jackie decides to join. - Ramses jokes about looking forward to retirement, but really doesn't want to leave until he is physically incapable of working anymore. Gear Station is like a second home to him.

In-Game Quotes

The most important reference of all are their in-game quotes, of course, so I'm adding it to the post. A lot of their personality traits can be extracted and interpreted from these few lines. And I personally love that about Pokemon NPCs -- there's a lot of room to explore and play with. Some appear very obvious. Cameron practically announces that he isn't ready for the battle that's about to ensue and seems genuinely surprised to win. Furze comes out the gate talking about the subject they actually care about, which is their job and their love for trains. The two of them are very easy to understand. Now, Ramses lines allude to a gentle and simple personality. He views himself with humility, and maybe even with a bit of humor comparing himself to a train and to his opponent to a station. If he loses he shows no signs of disappointment, he just accepts defeat with one last honest quip. It s also amusing to see the Depot Agents all use train metaphors to describe themselves since it falls in line with how Ingo and Emmet talk.

In comparison, Cloud does the same thing calling herself the terminal instead. Immediately, she is way more daring, though still keeping a sense of professionalism. To me, it's obvious she is competitive as she even admits she was expecting to win ("Ah...I didn't see it coming.") Jackie's lines are fun since it's up to interpretation if they are being literal or lying. It's almost like they are more interested in confusing/creeping out their opponent than actually beating them. To me, it gives off a mischievous vibe. Isadore's opener "There are only two roads in life." is a curious one because it almost feels like he is trying to be philosophical. Definitely a guy who views himself as an intellectual, regardless if that’s true or not. I like to think it's a saying he really believes in, and it applies to his life. The road he likes (long route) vs the road he hates (shortcut) -- fighting tooth and nail to become boss vs biting his tongue and accepting Ingo and Emmet as the Subway Masters.

Those are just my thoughts on how I write these characters. Please have fun playing with these lines too!

#depot agents #depot agents master post #my art #submas #submas adjacent ahaha #will probably edit as time goes on but who knows really #if you spot any typos no you dont kiss kiss #cameron #cloud #furze #isadore #jackie #ramses

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rebornofstars · 1 year ago

Text

i might jump on this if i may? i hardly ever actually Do Tumblr Stuff help

how many works do you have on ao3? um. 20 on my new account. 37 if you include the orphaned stuff.

total ao3 word count? again, 80K on the new account, just over 134K overall.

what fandoms do you write for? currently linked universe, legend of zelda, and (kicking and screaming) batfam. i thought i left that fandom long ago but APPARENTLY NOT.

top five fics by kudos? old stuff included? i'm not giving you that info lol, those were horribly embarrassing... new stuff: AITA, tumblr?; paranoia; And Together; Three; and The Cursebreaker

do you always respond to comments? on my current account, yes! although sometimes it can take me up to two weeks to stop chuckling delightedly at the comment and kick it out of my inbox with a note home...

fic with the angstiest ending you've written? oh boy, i try not to do angsty endings... they're not really my thing. probably lettuce heart, which is quite tragic.

fic with happiest ending you've written? oh, absolutely any of the steady going under pieces.

do you get hate? i haven't gotten anything i would classify as hate, but i have been blessed with some very opinionated commenters, especially back when i was writing for marvel 😔

do you write smut? that's a hard nope from me! not my thing.

do you write crossovers? absolutely! i love a well-made crossover. i think to date i've only written one, though, and it's on the orphaned list...

ever had a fic stolen? yep! reposted to a dodgy website full of ads. it wasn't too huge a deal to me at the time, though. the fic in question already had 200K hits, and i had mentally moved on from it. and of course, everything i put on the archive i view as giving those words away - my fanworks are for the readers, and they're made for the express purpose of mucking around on the internet. nothing i ever truly love or would want to attach my name to will ever be uploaded to the archive.

ever had a fic translated? yep! same fic as above. into russian, though also not hosted on the archive and not linked back. so i guess it could also be classified as another theft?

ever co-written a fic? technically, yes! although so far i haven't been doing much of the writing: The Chain group chat

all-time favourite ship? to be honest, i'm not really someone who ships characters. i do like reading and writing the odd romance, but i'm not really attached to any pairings as "endgame" and i'm more interested in really exploring all possible dynamics. there's a whole universe out there of possibilities.

wip you'd like to finish but doubt you ever will? a wip already started? the primordials, a time-centric chapter fic centered around a GLORIOUSLY comedic misunderstanding. a wip just barely begun? Relics For Your Endless Night. it would be stunning. it will never be stunning.

writing strengths? i'm not sure how to answer this one! i try to be as well-rounded an individual as i can. i have been complimented most frequently on my banter, action scenes, and imagery, though.

writing weaknesses? personally, i don't think i'm that good at action scenes. odd. sometimes simple 'getting from place to place' segues trip me up as well.

thoughts on writing dialogue in another language? i've used google translate for a few spanish words and phrases before, because i felt that it would be almost rude if i didn't acknowledge that part of a character's identity, but it's not my favourite thing. i feel like i'm trampling on toes.

first fandom you wrote for? technically, transformers. first posted on the archive? spiderman.

fav fic you've written? oh, this is a hard one! it changes with my mood. i'm always quite partial to the recent ones, though, so i'll stick in the manner that people used to dance in there.

alright, someone pick this up! @savimatteo2810 @andsomedaykindness @imperialkatwala @polynomialpandemic and anyone else, i don't remember people's tumblr handles very well at all 😭😭😭

20 questions for fic writers

Tagged by @aeghina

1. How many works do you have on A03?

14! I only started putting fics on AO3 in October. I used to write fics years ago, some for World of Warcraft and years before that, it was Sailormoon and Utena mostly.

2. What's your total A03 word count?

84,157 Over half of that is my currently-being-updated Fierce Deity Dad fic, haha

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Legend of Zelda stuff right now! AU and Linked Universe stuff mostly.

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

1.https://archiveofourown.org/works/51754873 Father of Time 2.https://archiveofourown.org/works/51814240 Defeat or Deity 3.https://archiveofourown.org/works/51902788 The Unbearable Weight of Three Days 4.https://archiveofourown.org/works/52201303 You Want to Talk to Link, Right? 5.https://archiveofourown.org/works/50953486 Hey Link!

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Always, every time. I love engaging with people.

6. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I don't really do angst that much? Maybe "The Silent Realm", a short fic from the point of view of Skyward Sword Link and how he feels about his trips into that space.

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

This is harder because I usually end all of my fics on a positive note! My silly fics though, "Hey Link!" and "You Want to Talk to Link, Right?" are probably the best endings. "Father of Time" has pretty happy/comfort type endings for all chapters but it's not finished, as such.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Not yet! Please don't take that as a challange.

9. Do you write smut?

Not at all, no. I don't mind a little romance and maybe some implied "behind closed doors" type of stuff but I don't write those sorts of things. Too awkward for it.

10. Do you write crossovers?

Oh, I used to! I haven't recently but I have ideas for some. They may or may not ever see the light of day.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not as far as I know

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

I don't think I'm popular enough for that, haha

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Nope! Not yet.

14. What's your all-time favorite ship?

Oh gosh, for the Zelda fandom it's probably Link/Malon for OOT/MM and Link/Zelda for BotW/TotK

15. What's the WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

I think I might finish all the ones I currently. Wait, now I have to check my files. Oh, I did start a "the chain is in Wild's era" fic that probably won't go anywhere so maybe that one.

16. What are your writing strengths?

I like to think that my sentences are clean and easy to understand. I do a lot of editing to make sure I don't sound repetitive. I also output *a lot* of words when I'm in the mood for writing. I think I did 5k one day because I just had to get everything out.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Keeping my tenses straight. Holy shit it drives me crazy

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

I try to avoid this because I don't think I'm very good at language building and I don't know enough of any other language to feel like I'm going to do justice to the language in question.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Sailormoon. haha, I'm such a neeeeerd

20. Favorite fic you've ever written?

"Father of Time", my currently running "Fierce Deity gets out of the mask and becomes a father to young Link" fic. I love writing it. I love reading it. It's everything I've wanted in a fic and it's just this huge part of my life right now.

I'm not sure who I would tag back but if anyone else wants to fill it out because they saw it on my dash, let me know so I can read it.

#i have never done one of these before and i'm very nervous?#help #fanfic writer q&a #20 qs for fic writers #writers on tumblr #i guess i've just done it to be able to say i've done one of these #they always interested me #but i don't really engage with my blog. and i don't post updates here of my fanfics anyway #so this is just for fun #thanks for the opportunity music #🐝

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m-jelly · 7 months ago

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Hello author. If you allow me, I have an idea for a fanfic. It will tell the story of the post-war wedding of Levi and the readers. You will do the details, descriptions of the beauty and colorfulness of the wedding perfectly. But the main feature of the wedding is that among the guests there will be ghosts of deceased scouts. They watch the wedding and rejoice for them.I've been dreaming about this kind of fanfiction or fanart for a long time, ever since the end of the manga. My English is bad

A magical day

Levi x fem!reader

Canon world, romance, marriage, wedding, mention of ghosts, fluff.

It's wedding day. You and Levi enjoy a blissful day as you finally marry each other. While you enjoy a sweet moment together after officially marrying, Levi sees all his friends and loved ones watching him.

@ladycheesington @levisbrat25 @nyxiieluna @li-anne @galactict3a

@youre-ackermine @thebobaprincess @2moth-anon2 @cypidity @nbinairyn

@bts-spnlvr12 @darkstarlight82 @emilyyyy-08 @levistealeaf @pelicanpizza

@notgoodforlife @searriously @demonic-bird

The wedding was a simple event with only a small number of guests. When it came to attention, you and Levi didn't like it. So, something small and simple was set up for the two of you. You both wanted something small and intimate with each other.

You'd chosen the perfect spot together, it was a large field with views of the lake and vast forests. White seats were lined up with a path made of flowers. At the end of the flowers was an archway made of wild and simple flowers.

Everything set up reflected the two of you so perfectly, the two of you were just simple people deeply in love. Not many people had been invited to the event, mainly because there weren't many people the two of you knew, but you preferred the small event.

Levi sat in his wheelchair as his heart throbbed in his chest. To say he was nervous was an understatement. Even though Levi knew you loved him with everything in you, he was still nervous that you wouldn't turn up.

As soon as the music played he gazed down the path to see you smiling in your gorgeous white dress moving closer. He was so excited when you walked closer to him with a bright smile. Desire filled him causing him to rise to his feet. He stumbled up and then limped towards you.

You hurried closer to Levi. "Levi."

He wrapped his arms around you and held you close. "Mine."

You giggled and hugged Levi tightly. "Mine." You pulled back and cupped his face. "Are you okay? Is your leg hurting?"

"I'm okay. I just had to meet you."

You carefully walked him back to his chair. "Sit, my love."

He sat down and huffed. "You worry too much about me."

You took a seat next to him and hugged his arm. "Always. It's because I love you."

He hummed a light laugh and enjoyed how relaxed the wedding was. He leaned over a moment and kissed your cheek. "I love you so much. You showed me how beautiful life can be. I had little regard for my own worth, but you made me feel like I'm worth a fortune."

"Levi, you're worth more than anything in this world."

He tapped his forehead against yours. "You are the most precious thing in this entire world."

The two of you cuddled up as the ceremony continued. As soon as Levi was given permission to kiss you, his lips were on yours. He wanted to marry you the moment he knew he was in love with you. He rose to his feet and stood before you and kissed you once more.

He held you against him and looked at the crowd. It warmed his heart to see people still cared about the two of you, but then something changed. At first, he thought there was something in his eyes, but then the vision became much clearer and standing among your guests were people he never thought he would see again.

It started with a few of the cadets he'd lost and a few people he had worked with in the past. Next to appear were the vets he was close to, the last of those vets was Erwin. Furlan and Isabel had the biggest grins on their faces as they seemed much closer to you and Levi. Finally, Kuchel stood there with tears in her eyes looking so proud of her son.

"Levi?"

He gulped hard as you called for him. "Yes?"

You rubbed his chest. "Are you okay?"

He pulled his gaze away from his old friends and family to look at you, his new family. "I'm perfect because I have you." He looked back to see they were all there still. "I see them, all of them."

You kissed Levi's cheek. "I know they're proud of you."

He leaned and kissed you. "And they think you're incredibly beautiful."

You giggled. "And they think you look handsome."

He tapped his forehead against yours. "It makes me happy to see my old family, but I have my new family right in front of me."

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highhhfiveee · 1 year ago

Text

mint

pairing: mike schmidt x blackfem!reader summary: you’re abby’s mint chocolate-loving babysitter. mike takes notice. wc: 1.3k tags: suggestiveness, swearing, fluff. *minor movie spoiler that isn’t a spoiler fr but kind of is* a/n: oi. this is my first official piece of fanfic on tumblr and i'm excited but also super nervous. i never knew what characters i wanted to write for as most of my fandoms are obsolete tbh (teen wolf and maze runner, i'm looking at you 💔) but after watching the fnaf movie and falling in love with j hutch like i'm 14 again, i wanted to try to write for mike! i'm sorry if this story sucks tbh. i wrote it pretty quickly, did not edit it in any way (watch for grammar and spelling errors!) and i'm still trying to establish characters and plot and do all this silly billy worldbuilding, but i'll get better! i'm also taking requests for both fluff and smut, so if y'all would like to send anything for me to write, i'll def accept! like i said in my last post, i think i'm gonna redo my tumblr layout so i can feel like a true fanfic/misc blog lmao so ignore its under construction phase ((: i hope y'all enjoy this though bc i've been thinking ab mike schmidt all night

i have sooo many ideas, but between last night and this morning, i’ve been thinking of abby’s babysitter!reader (bc fuck max).

you’ve been channel surfing in the living room since you put abby down, working with her to lock down a nightly routine. ideally, she’d bathe, eat dinner (god willingly), brush her teeth, and then you’d be able to get her to lay in bed and doze off. some nights, this required dessert.

“you just brushed your teeth though. it’s gonna taste gross.”

“not if it’s one of those mint chocolate things you always have.” you straighten up, eyes squinted at the child before you; she meant the small, sometimes melted, squares of Andes mint chocolate you always kept. they’d always been your favorite, a guilty pleasure in this fucked up world.

you hadn’t been babysitting abby for long, and you didn’t realize that she'd been watching you crush the chocolates like it was light work. they were easy to eat, and once you had one, you found out how easy it was to eat another one, and then another one, and then another one until there was a mountain of crinkled foil next to your phone and chocolate smeared on your face.

"please, y/n. just one," you didn't exactly know if it was a lie. abby was convincing, able to break you down with her eyes, pleading and puppy-dog like. "please."

you cave, leaning down to brush her hair back from her forehead and place a gentle kiss on the skin. with pursed lips, you whisper, "fine, but tomorrow night. i have to get some more."

abby does nothing but smile, eyes fluttering closed. you stay with her for a bit like you always do--watching the way her chest rises and falls, and how her features twitched with slumber. features scarily similar to mike's.

of course she'd look like mike. they were siblings, no shit, but the resemblance occupied your brain. there was sweet abby, with her colorful clothes and scribbled drawings and persuasive aura, and then there was mike.

you shake your head, giving abby another kiss before exiting her room. you didn't need to think about mike. he wasn't what you were here for. you'd come to abby's school as an aide and after she'd privately confided in you about her home life, you knew you had to help her. you would do anything for her, even if that meant taking care of her while suppressing the overwhelming school girl crush you had on her older brother.

mike was a bit older than you, which didn't scare you at all. guys in their early 20s were rarely mature, doing anything they could just to fuck; but guys in their late 20s, mike specifically, had only ever shown you couth, surprisingly.

for nearly two months, five mornings a week, the sound of the door being unlocked would ring out. you'd turn to see sunshine pouring into the living room, enveloping mike's brooding figure in a radiant golden glow.

he'd hang his coat on the wall hooks, drop his bag down to his feet, and give you a small but warm smile. you'd try to not to embarrass yourself as you two made small talk, packing up your things.

you always left unscathed, but recently it'd been hard. you were always thinking about him, dreaming about him even; how his hair would feel between your fingers, how his hands would feel on your face, how his face would feel between your thighs.

the thought is washed away, drowned out by the sound effects of a loud infomercial when the door opens, and you're turning and squinting against the wash of pale yellow on your face. mike steps forward with a, "hey, y/n" and you meekly raise your hand to wave.

he hangs his hoodie up to reveal his shoulder blades flexing under an uncharacteristically tight navy blue sweater. you can't help but stare.

"just wake up?" his voice is raspy, but he's still facing the wall, rummaging in his bag for something.

"um...yeah. brain's still turning on," you lie, tossing the thick blue blanket off your body. you didn't sleep at all, kept up with your thoughts and the last of your Andes mints (though you loved her, you couldn't give abby your last ones).

"hm," he mutters, finally turning to you but keeping his hands behind his back. something crinkles in them and you raise your eyebrow at the tired yet amused expression he takes with you. it's enough to make your body hot and you awkwardly pull at the collar of your shirt, fanning yourself off.

"hot?" the gravelly tone sends you into a giggling fit, shaking your head as you shoot to your feet. you have to leave before you do or say something you regret.

"uh, yeah, it was s-super hot under that...um...blanket. i shouldn't have worn sweatpants to s-sleep," you stutter, nodding your head along with mike as he steps closer to you. this couldn't be the moment something happens, right? it'd been so casual between you too, very friendly, and he'd never shown any signs of trying to do anything with you before. why would he choose right now, so spontaneously?

he stands before you, the slightest bit taller than you. you're able to see every pore, every freckle, every microscopic detail in his eyes and lips.

you open your mouth, hoping your heart doesn't fall out, to ask what's happening, when he reveals a bag of Andes mints, one bigger than you've ever seen.

your mouth stays open in surprise. "wh-"

"abby's been talking about them. i wondered where she found out about them but--" he nudges his head towards the coffee table, where a small mound of green wrappers lay. you swear under your breath, cursing yourself for not throwing them away like you usually do.

"i'm sorry," you whisper, blushing beyond measure as you begin to frantically pack your things. "i should be more careful with that stuff."

"god, y/n, you're saying it like it's coke," mike chuckles. he sets the bag down on the couch and reaches out to you, placing his hand on yours as you shove things into your tote. "hey."

his voice forces you to stop and look up. you melt under his stare just like you do with abby. the puppy-dog thing must run in the family.

"i feel bad about not being able to pay you yet, and i really appreciate all you're doing. abby told me that you loved those mints, so..."

"thank you, mike," you say over the sound of your pounding heart. you didn't care about the money, you didn't need it. being appreciated by someone who made your heartbeat resonate throughout your body was payment enough. "this is really sweet."

"thank you, y/n. you don't know how much this means to me." You scoff, throwing your tote over your shoulder and looking down at your feet.

"i'm always happy to help." you and mike stand facing each other for what feels like hours, the air as thick as molasses between you. his eyes were squinted, low and dark and intriguing.

you wished you could read his mind. what was he thinking? did his heart do the same thing as yours, wacking against his ribcage with no end in sight? did he stay up thinking about you when he was supposed to be sleeping, imagining how you felt, what you sounded like, how you tasted---

"see you later tonight?" his voice rocks you out of your trance. he's not thinking about you. he's tired, wondering when you'll leave so he can fall into his bed and doze off.

"yeah. tell abby i said i'll see her tonight." your smile is tight as you exit the house, cursing at yourself as you get into your car.

you didn't know how long you could go on like this.

ya, i know this sucks and it isn't really anything but we're gonna work our way through these fics and blurbs to really develop a cute relationship (,: i will still be writing other fics for mike, and possibly using another babysitter!reader in a different universe, but as for now, we're gonna be rocking with these two (: (thinking that we’ll label her as 🌱🍫!reader) all notes are appreciated (: thanks for reading!

#mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt #fnaf #fnaf movie #mike schmidt fluff #faire is writing stuff #fnaf fic

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miks-delusional-blog · 11 months ago

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Just hold my hand - Mizu x fem! reader

Tags: fluff, very minor angst (not really angst?) Idk how to tag sorry I’m a noob, Mizu just being a bit anxious, that’s as angsty as it gets

Notes: In 2nd person (you), 858 words, Mizu x Fem! reader

Context: you and Mizu are friends(?) with romantic tension (I'm projecting).

Little A/N: lmao ran out of fanfics to read so I wrote one!

Guys I haven't written fanfic (and posted it) since I was 14 YEARS OLD. I'm 20. The passage of time is so scary.

I'm open to criticism but please be gentle.

Enjoy <3 Love Yamz x

It was a cold day. Just a few days after the new year. The golden sun slowly travelled over the horizon, the moon and stars chasing after. You and Mizu were walking through a bustling crowded street, lined with street vendors.

The two of you walked together, slightly trailing behind her. Occasionally you’d remark,

“Those steamed buns smell so good, we should come back here later!”

“Woah…”

“Ooh, that’s so cool, don’t you think?”

“Isn’t that bracelet cute?”

And Mizu would hum in reply, nodding and agreeing with you nonchalantly.

As the two of you continued through the street, it seemed to get busier and louder. Your voice was getting quieter as everyone else got louder, their conversations drumming against Mizu’s ears. As Mizu walked, a necklace caught her eye. One she expected you’ll comment on.

But she’s met with silence.

Mizu, a little confused, turns back to look at you, but you’re not there. She looks around, walking back the way she came. She scanned the stalls but she couldn't see you. It didn’t help that the street had gotten busier.

‘Where are you?’ she thinks.

Before she realised, she became frantic. Barging through the crowd, she called out for you, her head whipping around just for a glimpse of you.

‘Where are you?’

Did something happen?

Maybe you got lost. Or maybe you had gotten distracted.

Had you been taken without her realising? There’s no way. She would have noticed. Right?

Had you abandoned her? No, there’s no way…

Desperate, Mizu began asking people if they had seen you. They’d brush her off, or roll their eyes, but she didn’t care.

‘Where the hell are you?’

Mizu pulled herself to the side of the street. She felt her heartbeat thumping in her ears. She needed to calm down. Collect herself. You couldn’t have gone far. Why had she gotten so worked up about you? You’re not a child.

She let out a sigh to calm her breathing. She scanned the crowd again.

‘How could I let the thought of her get me so rattled? Fucking ridiculous.’ She thought, gritting her teeth.

‘Where the fuck is she? That brat. Always fucking wandering off…’ finally her eyes settled on your figure.

You hadn’t spotted her yet. Mizu watched as you looked around at the busy crowd with nervous eyes.

In a way it comforted her. Your nervous form, looking around for her. It quelled her previous anxieties of you possibly being kidnapped or of your abandonment. Mizu smirked a little at your image.

“Mizu!” You called out with a wavering voice, still not seeing her.

‘This feels a little sadistic now.’ Mizu chuckled to herself. She walked over to you, pushing through the crowd.

Mizu called out to you when she was a lot closer.

“Mizu? Mizu!” your face lights up when you spot her, relief washing over you. You ran up to her, hugging her before pulling away slightly, remembering how that wasn’t her thing. “Oh right sorry-”

To your surprise, she pulls you back into her embrace. She lowers her head close to your ear, “Where the hell did you go?” Her words are sharp but her voice is unexpectedly soft.

“Sorry, I got distracted. I saw something at a stall and I called out to you, and I thought you heard me so I went over. But, we got separated.” You said, feeling a little embarrassed.

Mizu lets out a sigh, her eyebrows knit slightly. “Why didn’t you just tap me or something?”

You look at her puzzled, “But, you don't like being touched.”

“I don’t mind if it’s you.” She barks, a little frustrated. You flinch a little at her tone. Realising her harshness she let out another breath trying to calm down. She stepped back, separating from you. You felt the absence of her warmth.

“Look,” she began crossing her arms, “I’d rather you touch me for two seconds than having to spend an hour looking for you. You’re lucky that you just wandered off this time. Next time we get separated like that, I’m not gonna come looking for you. I don’t care if you get kidnapped or swallowed by the earth.”

You felt yourself heat up in embarrassment. Averting eye contact, “sorry…”

“I need to get you a bell so I don’t lose you. In the meantime…” Mizu held out her hand towards you.

You paused, looking down at it a little confused.

She rolls her eyes, “Just take my hand.”

You abided immediately.

The two of you began walking down the bustling street, hand in hand. Her hands were cold and rough but being so close to her made you feel warm and safe.

After a moment of reflecting on your conversation, “Mizu?”

“Yeah?” she glanced over at you.

“Did you think I got kidnapped?” You enquired.

She briefly paused, “It was a possibility that crossed my mind.”

You smiled, beaming “Oh…you really do care about me.”

“Shut up. Don't be a brat.”

You laughed, bumping her shoulder softly. She rolled her eyes, looking away from you. But still she smirks, shifting her grip in your warm and soft hand.

#mizu blue eye samurai #mizu x reader #blue eye samurai mizu x reader #mizu x fem!reader #mizu x reader fluff #bes mizu #wlw fluff #idk how to tag im sorry

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cathreaux · 5 months ago

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So, I'm assuming, after weeks of pretending that is all casual, that I'm in the polin fever too. I mean, the way I'm OBSESSED with them that I even started to write fanfics again after yeeears AND also posting, sharing and comment a lot (like, I'm more like a quiet fan, but this time I can't) but the way I'm going onto some headcanons about the show... Oh, sweet fanfic-child, remember their not canon.

But, as a wise yearning man on tears said, "I cAn'T" and now I can't stop thinking about what if Pen was Colin's childhood crush?

✨imagine with me for a moment✨

As we know —I think? We know? I think we know this or maybe I'm spend too much time here— from the beginning Colin been found Pen charming, intelligent, funny, brave, pretty, interesting, sensible, lovely and a long list of qualities that Colin "my wife" Bridgerton would love to tell you. And for him is so normal, like, "of course I think she's amazing, have you seen her?" that the idea of him being ashamed of her was ridiculous. And he let her know that so many times during the season, even before the kiss. Her silence was tortured him when he was in his tour and, even if he wasn't conscious, part of all the changes he did were thinking if that would bring her attention back.

Ok, with that on mind, what if when they know each other he has a crush on her? In the show they meet when they were kids, and she make an unforgettable first impression that even after years he remembered with a big soft smile. But ALSO he REMEMBER when the Featheringtons moved to their house (he see her BEFORE they meet in the incident with the horse). He was mesmerized, so charmed by her and trying to cause a good impression (his reaction after fall of the horse said a lot), but the fact that she start a friendship with Eloise and he keep seeing her, also influenced on what I think was the big Colin's travel of childhood'crush/myverygoodfriend/ohshitIwasinloveallthisfuckingtime.

Because, first of all, if Pen and Eloise hadn't become friends they would never have had the opportunity to seen each other so much and less yet to know themselves as they did. Society rules wouldn't let them. They were children but even in that moment of their lifes a friendship between girls and boys wasn't good looking for others. But Pen and El becoming friends (I'm sure that would happen with or without Colin) and that created so many moments for them. For develop the proximity, the puns, the games, the conversations, to sharing interest, the fact that they think the other is pretty but doesn't know if he/she think the same, the chemistry. They have enough space and time for nervous giggles and show a discrete interest that they can hide as a friendship' start, but not enough space and time alone for profound theirs feelings and show/seen more of how the other feels.

If Pen had not become friend with Eloise, they would be only neighbors and he would be interested, but more like a distance fantasy that something more real and deep, more easy to let it go (and maybe it would return when she debuts). But being friend with her changes everything. His interest for her was bigger and bigger, but, how he can keep her in his life without pushing her away? He had to let his crush and feelings stay in the shadows of his childhood, where every infant love is supposed to remain.

If Eloise wouldn't been always present or interrupting their interactions they're would also deep their relationship (no encontré cual es la palabra correcta para lazos porque la que me salió no es la que estaba buscando), maybe would notice (both of them) that it wasn't only friendship for the other... But the thing is Bridgertons doesn't know how to share (that's included friends) and, for the way the ton work in their context, he can't claim her as his (in any way) at the same way that Eloise do. Even call her his friend was go against the status quo, any other claim being so young would only distance them for the society rules. In fact, his family give them so much freedom that they wouldn't have with any other that wasn't a Bridgerton. But the rules are still there. So, he have to choose. And childhood crush only remains in the past, right? He want her in his life permanent, so a very good friend has to be.

Another point is, yes, he was more closed to his sister's ages and with them in general, but Pen was the girl he meet by himself, the person outside his family with who have most proximity. And he finds her charming from the beginning. And he was always so romantic, he probably loved to play the prince, the knight or the savior pirate when he played with Pen and his sisters. He's always trying to prove to others that he is enough, trying to been seen in a good way, in forms that he would like to be perceived or at least what he think other people want or expect.

And she see him. She listen him. She talks to him. She doesn't think that his dreams, fears, hopes and doubts are dumb. She validates his feelings, always do. She see the real Colin. But as a friend.

That is what he thinks.

Also, as I said before, friendship between girls and boys wasn't allowed to be. Having Pen on his life, having a girl-friend in his life wasn't something normal, he don't have references for how is supposed to be or feel.

And then is all the El's opinion about the ton, the marriage market and Pen always seems like she support all her opinions. As far as Colin or any Bridgerton knew (except for Violet), Pen felt the same way. When Penelope debuted, he doesn't believed she would be interested in marriage. Yes, he understand that she doesn't feel comfortable for so many reasons (her mama, Cressida, society in general) but he also believes that she don't have any interest of being part of that (and we know that wasn't her perspective). So, he keep the "she is a very good friend" discourse. Because she doesn't want him, as she never did (for his perspective) but she doesn't want a husband or prospects in general, so that's okay. She will keep being his friend and he's still the more important man in her life outside her family.

And then we have aaaaaall that he heard for his entire life. How is supposed to feel love, desire, passion and interest in the adulthood. The way how he would feel instantly after he seen the other person and would be mutual, the fact that any other man never talk about the tenderness, the laught or the softness he always feel with Pen.

And after Marina, after all the jokes about him being green, his doubts about his place in society, the silence with he had to deal in his travel after the Featherington's Ball, and his thoughts that that is what he need to be, even if is not himself... He changes. Only for discover when he return that everything changed.

He want Pen back, he apologized after knew what he did, but then he discovered that Pen want prospects. Pen want to marry someone else. Pen is open to the idea of having a partner. Someone that is not him.

Never wasn't him, right? But he offered his help, because he want her back, he wants to spend time with her in any way he can, and yeah, she wants marry. Is fine, is perfectly fine. They're friends. As always. Is okay she's gonna give to other man the privilege to be her most important man on her life. Cool. Is not breaking him at all...

But only for the work... what is she looking for in a husband? What's she want? Why can't be him?

And after the kiss... Well :)

I think that (and I known myself, I probably gonna talk about the scenes between them having this headcanon on mind) would suite a lot with all his journey in his story with Pen 🖤 thanks for coming to my Tumblr talk 😘

#bridgerton #polin #colin my wife bridgerton #colin bridgerton #colin x penelope #penelope bridgerton #penelope featherington #what if...?#headcanon #oh sweet fanfic child...#as if I said sweet summer child...

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eatyourmaker · 5 months ago

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Alright.

If I don't come back from my indefinite break consider this the blog's requiem...

I love this community, and it will always hold a special place in my heart, and I'm genuinely scared of letting it go. I'm scared that my inner turmoil will have ruined the series and fandom for me.

But I've met such lovely people and made wonderful friends here. I've made art and seen wonderful art, and had great conversations and exchanges with people...

The small following I've accumulated? I've nothing bad to say about you.

You all are so genuinely lovely, and have made my experience here... So lovely...

Now onto the not so great things...

Sometimes...

Being a creator in this fandom....

Feels like a fucking nightmare.

Seeing as this might be the last thing I post here I might as well leave no stone unturned and come clean, right?

It's so fucking anxiety inducing, and unfortunately I couldn't handle the heat.

Okay so here are some things that have been weighing me down.

1. Hostile responses to different types of content.

it's so confusing... it seems like the fandom's response to fan-created content is so... wishywashy.

On the one hand, if you create something with dark themes you run the risk of being called gross 'n weird.

On the other hand, if you create content that's just happy and silly you get the "this is unrealistic, where's the nuance?" comments.

Silly or Dark, it doesn't matter someone has got something to say.

Damned if you do damned if you don't.

The fuck am i supposed to do??? What do you want from me???

I try my best to just create whatever I know will make me happy, but the knowledge that wherever I turn there will be that type of response just give me such overwhelming anxiety, like...

And I know this sounds stupid and like a personal problem, and I thought it was too for a long time--- that's why I internalized it, but I've had conversations with my small circle of friends who are also creators and the space and from what I've gleemed they feel the same way.

They are also nervous to post the content they wanna post because of the same things.

On the one hand, I'm glad I'm not alone in my feelings, but on the other hand, it saddens me that this is such a problem people are scared of posting their work.

2. Unreasonable expectations of creators.

I feel like some people here forget that the creators here are people too.

It's kind of annoying and disheartening.

And the "expectations" I'm talking about isn't like--- people expecting people to push out content like machines, it's not that-

It's the "This doesn't cater to me, i don't like this [character/ship/whatever] therefore it is bad, and I'm gonna make you feel bad about it.

I see this sentiment a lot when it comes to a particular pair of characters--- not gonna name names. But if you know you know.

These characters aren't the best in the series. They present as dislikable, yes. But nonetheless they are someone's favorite (and that someone is my friend)

This fanartist draws wholesome art of their faves interacting as a couple only to get vagued about for not presenting the characters with more nuance.

And it's SO painfully obvious whenever this conversation comes up that it's about them n their art bc they are like known as the fanartist for these characters—

And it's just so... Disheartening to see.

And no one challenges this view point, and it's just an echo chamber of "YEA!!! If you draw this character you gotta draw them right!!!"

And lately I've been seeing the same sentiment for Ignacio, and I can't say definitively if it's something that's meant to be directed at me, but either way it sucks.

So as a creator I wanna address this type of thing head on.

Fanartists/fanfic writers/whoever is not obligated to provide you with "nuance."

I mean good God. I kind of understand the hatred and the sentiment, these characters are implied to be not good to their child, right? So when confronted with this character— especially if you're a fan of the character they're victimizing— you might be compelled to go "this is bad!!! This is unrealistic!!! Provide nuance!!! Blah blah"

But remember, this creator is a person too.

There are a lot of creators who will make realistic/more canon based "nuanced" depictions of this character—

But if there's a person who isn't interested in that and they just wanna draw their faves being happy or lovey dovey, what's the problem with that? Do you really think shoving canon and your dislike of the character down their throat, will do anything?

Can you just think for a second?

Like okay.

The character has done some bad shit. But do you really think that drawing that character being abusive is gonna be fucking fun??? For some people, I'm sure it is. There are some enjoyers of dark content who wanna provide that level of depth. But there are also... Some who don't!!! There are also people who wanna draw their faves being happy!!!

But then, there's the earlier point of "If you make something too dark you'll be called gross" LIKE

WHAT DO YOU WAAANNNNT???

And the idea that there's a "right" way to draw or write a character is so stifling. And if you don't fit within that you get shit on.

ok next point.

Just find an interpretation you do like and leave the other people alone. And if you can't do that, don't interact with that content and go about your day.

It's so simple.

3. People shoving canon down your throat.

There's not much to say on this point I don't think.

But some people forget that headcanons and aus exist and that fanartist and fanfic writers are not the fucking show writers

Some of y'all act like you don't know what the fuck fanon is.

Let people have different interpretations and depictions of characters. The canon isn't fucking going anywhere.

If you see something you don't like? Move along, or block, whatever. Just stop with the constant "but it doesn't make sense!!!" Within someone's headcanons and story it might.

If you don't like someone's interpretation of a character, it's fine. But just. Leave people be.

(I got an ask recently about my Dadnacio au asking to explain it— this is NOT about that, that person was respectful and genuinely curious. I'm talking about in general and what I've seen. That person was fine)

4. The vagueing

Do I need to explain?

I thought this community was really more mature but apparently it isn't.

Nothing could prepare me for the amount of vaguing that would happen here.

Y'all— the creators you're refraining from name dropping but still venting about be seeing the shit!!! And it doesn't do anything but make people feel bad like holy shit!

All it serves to do is make the environment uncomfortable and hostile.

All you do is make not only that creator but other creators scared to post anything.

I can't silence anyone and I don't intend to— nothing I can do but Jesus it's just— omg.

4. Shipping wars

Need I say more?

If there's a ship you don't like between two consenting non related adults, scroll past, or block the tag, and mmmmoooOOOOOOOVE the fuck along.

It's insane.

If your ship isn't popular, or has an age gap (A LEGAL ONE, MIND YOU) you are genuinely at risk of getting hate and even losing friends or mutuals. It's ridiculous.

R i d i c u l o u s.

Also, this may be an unpopular opinion, but—

If there's a toxic ship, as long as it doesn't romanticize the toxic parts of it— who gives a shit.

Some people like to write darker themes, but again it seems like that's a goddamn crime in this fandom,,,

Aaaand.

I think that's about it.

All in all, this fandom, while it has its good parts...

I'm sorry, I gotta cut the shit and stop sugarcoating it—

It's TOXIC AS FUCK HERE.

I'm sorry!!! I had to say it!!!

Yeah, I'm a sensitive person, I say it in my pinned post.

But in all my years of living, with all the fandoms I've been in.

This is by far, no fucking joke. THE WORST ONE.

I'm so deadass.

And I've been in the FNAF fandom as a kid at its peak! I was in the Danganronpa fandom, FnF! And SOOO many more in-between!!! You should see the mile long yet some how in complete fandom list on my hyperfixation blog like I'm so deadass right noe. But no. This is the worst one. /Srs /gen

How did you MANAGE? How is this one, the lighthearted turned mysterious cartoon about 2 spooky kids manage to be the most vitriolic that I've seen in all my years?!

And if it's like this on Tumblr I shudder to think wtf Twitter is like.

And all this and then people will eventually start to wonder why tf the fandom is getting bone dry— lemme tell you—

Instead of catering your own fandom experience and saying "live and let live" it's like the first instinct when people see something they don't like is just hostility! And it's so immature!

IT'S CAUSE PEOPLE ARE SCARED TO POST HERE!!!

And it's not just me either!!!!!

I'm probably more openly affected because again, I'm sensitive, I have horrible anxiety, yada yada, but it's not just me, and that's really sad.

But anyway.

Yeah that's it.

Despite all my grievances, please know that I love you guys. You all who have shown me support and love, you mean the world to me, and if I don't end up returning, please know I'll never forget you.

Bye , 🫂💖💞🫶🏾

#spooky month #rambling

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