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briefinquiries · 8 months ago

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Tyler Owens x Reader: Say Don't Go

Request: Anonymous asked: “I think your writing is one of the best on here for Tyler <3 i’d love to read your take on the reader sticking out a big tornado with Tyler, i guess similar to the rodeo scene in the movie with Kate but i’d like to read your own take on him just comforting the reader and making sure they get through it <3”

Word count: 3.7k

Warnings: Blood & injury mention, tornado, hurt / comfort

A/N: thank you so so much for the kind words :((( absolutely loving these requests & all of the comments / replies to my recent tyler fics. please keep them coming!!

“You could’ve stayed home if you didn’t want to come,” you said to Tyler frustratedly.

“It’s not that I didn’t want to come,” he replied, trailing behind you as you ventured into another store. “I just didn’t realize that picking up a birthday gift was going to entail being at the mall ‘til sun down.”

“I told you I didn’t have anything picked out and that I’d probably have to look around–” you reminded him, stopping in your tracks so that you could turn to face him.

Tyler put his hands up in surrender. “I know, I know. I’m sorry, I’ll shut up.”

As soon as he backed down, your gaze immediately softened. “Well I don’t want you to be miserable,” you said as you crossed your arms.

The corner of Tyler’s lip tugged upward in a cheeky grin. “Now how could I ever be miserable when I’m spendin’ time with you?”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help the smile that crept across your face. “Yeah, whatever,” you said with a smirk. “Why don’t you head to the food court? Once I finish up, I’ll come find you.”

He tilted his head to the side, like a puppy looking for permission. “You sure?”

You nodded, adjusting the bag slung over your shoulder. “Yeah, of course. Just, don’t get ice cream without me,” you warned.

Tyler took a step forward so that you were now only inches apart. You felt his hand rest on the small of your back before he pulled you closer and leaned forward. The second that you felt his lips press against yours in a soft, gentle kiss, all of the annoyance and frustration you’d previously felt melted away in the blink of an eye. Even though you and Tyler had been together for nearly two years now, he still had that kind of effect on you.

When he stepped away, a smile lingered on his lips.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he assured you.

You kept your eyes trained on the back of his head as he made his way from the store, because the truth was– even when he pissed you off, you loved him more than you’d ever loved anything.

Only when he was out of sight did you finally turn and resume your search. As much as you loved spending time with Tyler, you had to admit it was easier to shop around without him constantly moaning and groaning the entire time.

You settled into the silence, taking your time as you made your way through the store. After inspecting all of the assorted knick knacks and smelling nearly every candle in the place, you finally settled on a necklace for your mom’s upcoming birthday.

Once you’d paid, you tucked the jewelry box inside your bag and began making your way out of the store, planning to head straight for the food court to find Tyler.

Except the second you stepped out of the store, you nearly jumped out of your skin at the loud sound of cracking thunder above. It was close– enough so the building trembled. You watched as other shoppers stopped in their tracks too.

And then, to your absolute dismay, you heard the emergency alert systems on everyone’s phones start going off in unison.

You pulled yours out of your pocket and read the message flashing across your screen.

National Weather Service: TORNADO WARNING in this area until 8:30 PM CDT. Take shelter now in a basement or an interior room on the lowest floor of a sturdy building. If you are outdoors, in a mobile home, or in a vehicle, move to the closest substantial shelter and protect yourself from flying debris. Check media for more information.

You swallowed thickly before glancing up from your phone. Gradually, others began doing the same. Then, as soon as everyone had read the warning and realized what was going on, panic ensued.

People began running in all directions– pushing others aside and rushing towards exits. You tried your best to remain calm, but you couldn’t ignore the fear spreading through you.

Instantly, your eyes began scanning the crowd as you instinctively began looking for Tyler.

He’ll come for you, you thought. Tyler will come.

But that didn’t mean you couldn’t meet him halfway. You tried to keep close to the wall to prevent being crushed in the crowd�� unfortunately for you though, other people had the same idea. As hard as you tried to keep to the side, soon, you were sucked right into the mass of people. The only thing you could do was move with them and try desperately to stay on your feet as everyone pushed and shoved their way around you.

Eventually, you dared to careen your neck up and scan for him. At first, all you saw was chaos– but people all seemed to be moving in the same direction now. You watched as parents picked up their children and spouses grabbed each other’s hands. Employees ran out of stores and customers dropped bags.

It took a few minutes, but eventually, you spotted a familiar tuft of sandy brown hair– the only person in eyesight moving against the crowd.

“Tyler!” you screamed.

He reacted to your voice, his head turning in the direction he thought it was coming from.

“Tyler!” you yelled again.

This time, his eyes landed right on yours.

But before you could even sigh the breath of relief that was sitting in your chest, you felt something, or rather someone jab into your side. The force was enough to make you stumble on your feet and fall to the ground with a thud. People continued rushing by– feet stepping on you, knees colliding into your back. At one point, you tried to place your hand on the floor to give yourself enough leverage to stand up, but as soon as you did, a white converse stomped right on your fingers, causing you to hiss out in pain.

Panic began creeping up your throat– making it harder to breathe, let alone think of a plan. A dark cloud began clouding your vision, numbing your senses to what was happening around you. Until suddenly, you heard your name being called. The sound broke through the haze. Before you could react, you felt two hands sliding underneath your armpits from behind. And suddenly, you were being hoisted up from the ground.

“I got you,” Tyler’s voice said in your ear. You didn’t even get a chance to turn and look at him before he was pushing you forward. “We gotta move.”

Thankfully, his grip under your arms never faltered, otherwise you were sure you wouldn’t have been able to keep up. But eventually, Tyler pushed you towards the outer edge of the busy mall hallway. Once you were no longer in danger of being flattened by the crowd, he spun you around– hands clutching your shoulders tightly while he blocked the remaining traffic from reaching you.

“Are you hurt?”

You shook your head. At least you didn’t think you were… But when you glanced down at yourself, you quickly realized why Tyler even asked. Your button down shirt was ripped– presumably from being grabbed, and the tank top beneath it had a few spots of blood splattered across the fabric. You weren’t even sure where it came from.

“We gotta go,” Tyler said urgently.

“The shelter–” you began, but Tyler shook his head.

“Everyone’s heading that way, it’ll be full by now. Plus, we don’t have time– I looked outside and… it’s close.”

“What do we do?” you asked, voice trembling with fear.

Tyler let his arms fall from your shoulders and instead grabbed onto one of your hands. He gave it a reassuring squeeze before nodding in the opposite direction of where everyone else was running.

“The stairwell,” he said.

You nodded shakily. “Okay.”

With that, Tyler was off– weaving his way in and out of the crowd. Luckily, it had thinned out dramatically– most people heading towards the parking lot or the storm shelter on the other side of the mall. Once you broke away from the thickest part of the crowd, Tyler’s grip loosened slightly on your hand.

“C’mon,” he urged, leading you around the corner. At the very end of the hallway was the door that led to the stairwell.

But you only made it a few feet down the hallway before you felt the floor shake beneath your feet. Only moments after, there was a loud bang just as a chunk of the roof was being ripped off the building.

“Tyler–” you yelled.

“Keep going,” he pleaded.

With part of the roof separated, you could hear the winds whipping outside more clearly. The sound was deafening, like a freight train barrelling right for you.

But even above the raging winds– you heard the cries of someone nearby. You looked to your left to see a mother and her child huddled underneath a display booth.

“Tyler,” you said again, tugging on his arm.

He slowed down, turning towards where your eyes were fixated. He hesitated, clearly conflicted on what to do.

“We have to help them,” you said.

His eyes scanned yours desperately before he nodded. “Wait here,” he said, releasing your hand.

You watched as Tyler crossed the hall– trying to avoid the debris now falling from the roof. He called something out to the woman, but you couldn’t hear above the sound of the wind. It was enough to catch her attention though, because soon she was passing her son to Tyler. The poor boy couldn’t have been older than five or six. Tyler pulled him to his side with ease before reaching his other arm out and helping the mother up from underneath the table.

Once she was on her feet, Tyler passed her back her son and pointed towards where you stood against the wall. She tucked her son’s head against her chest and began hurrying forward– Tyler at her heels as they fought against the increasing winds.

“Take my hand,” you yelled. With the arm she wasn’t using to support her son, she reached for you.

You grasped onto her and helped pull her against the wall.

“Go to the stairwell,” you explained. “Get underneath them, as low as you can.”

She nodded, unshed tears glistening in her eyes before she began heading down the hall.

Just then, you heard a deafening crack. You turned to see another piece of the roof being pulled off– causing large chunks of debris to begin falling.

“Get down!” you heard Tyler holler. Using your arm, you shielded your head the best you could and shrank to the floor as the largest piece fell. A cloud of dust enveloped you as soon as it landed and you felt small pieces of debris bouncing against your skin– After a brief moment, you dared to look up.

But Tyler was no longer standing in front of you.

“Tyler!” you screamed. Without thinking, you moved forward, trying your best to stay low. But despite your best efforts, you were still caught off guard by the piece of metal that blew past your head, slicing open your skin– “Fuck!” you yelled, grabbing at your temple. When you pulled your hand away, your fingers were coated in a thick, crimson liquid.

“Tyler!” you yelled again, voice growing increasingly frantic.

“I’m here–” you heard him yell back, causing your shoulders to deflate slightly. As you crawled around the largest pile of debris, you saw him on the ground, moving a chunk of roofing off his foot. His eyes met yours, a flash of concern crossing his face when he saw your head. “You gotta get to the stairs–”

“No, no, no. Not without you,” you shook your head, continuing to move towards him as you felt the blood trickle down the side of your face.

“The storm’s here– you gotta go. You gotta take cover,” he pleaded.

“I’m not leaving you��” you cried, unable to control the tears burning behind your eyes. As they fell down your cheek, they mixed with the blood from your temple. Once you were crouched beside him, you used what little strength you had left to Tyler’s hand and pull him from the small pile of rubble.

When you looked at the short distance between yourselves and the staircase door– you were surprised to see the woman, propping it open with her body and waving towards the two of you to hurry up.

“Move–” Tyler encouraged, pushing you against the wind. “Go, go, go–”

You army-crawled forward, wincing as more debris nicked your skin. But finally– you reached the door. Tyler moved his hand to your waist and guided you towards the staircase.

The woman reached for her son, who was crouched low in the corner. Meanwhile, Tyler moved you towards one of the railings.

“Hold on to this–” he instructed. You wound your arms around the fixture.

"Don't go–" you begged.

But immediately after, you felt the warmth from his body wrap around you. You looked up and saw Tyler shielding your body with his own– his hands gripping the part of the railing just above yours.

“I got you,” he promised. “We’re gonna be okay, I got you,” he repeated. But soon his voice was swept away by the sound of the storm.

The winds grew even louder as the tornado moved closer– the noise of various chunks of debris slamming into the ground around you made you shake. You squeezed your eyes shut– hoping and praying to whatever God might be out there that Tyler was right and you’d both be okay…

You weren’t sure how long the storm raged on. It felt like hours, although you knew that couldn't be right. Eventually though, the winds died down. In their absence, you could hear the sound of the woman comforting her son, along with Tyler’s labored breathing above you.

With a shaky hand, you reached behind you– like you didn’t quite trust that he was still there. You felt the fabric of his jeans beneath your palm and sighed out the choppy breath that had been lodged in your throat.

“Tyler,” you heaved pathetically, voice cracking.

“I’m here,” he gasped, voice equally shaky as he gasped for air. “I got you.”

Nodding, you brushed your hair from your sweaty face and felt Tyler shift. Following his lead, you turned towards him. As soon as your eyes landed on him– hunched over and breathing like he’d just run five miles, you let out a choked sob.

“Are you okay?” he panted.

“Tyler–” was all you could manage to blurt out.

A calloused hand cupped your face– thumb trailing along your hairline. You winced when his thumb passed over a sensitive spot on your head from where you’d been hit earlier. “You’re okay,” he soothed. “We’ll get it checked out.”

You nodded, leaning into his touch as you desperately craved comfort from him. Seemingly picking up on your need, he wrapped his arm around your shoulders and tugged you into his chest. “We’re okay,” he repeated, hand moving to cup the back of your neck. You let your eyes fall shut– inhaling the scent of his T-shirt. Even though he was coated in sweat and dust, he still smelled so comforting and familiar.

He planted a kiss on top of your head before panting, “We gotta get out of here.”

You nodded, and forced yourself to pull away from him. Tyler helped you to your feet, eyes studying to make sure you were steady before he turned towards the woman.

“You guys okay?” he asked.

She nodded, clutching tightly to her son, who was still in her arms.

“Alright, c’mon– be careful where you step,” he said, helping them out from the staircase. Tyler led them past you and into the hall before coming back for you.

You desperately tried to steady your shaking legs. You were wobbly on your feet, but with Tyler’s help, you managed to maneuver your way out from underneath the staircase.

As soon as you were back in the hall, your breath caught in your throat at the sight. The entire mall was destroyed– the roof had caved in, creating mounds of rubble everywhere you looked. There was dust all over– and no one else in sight.

“Tyler–” you croaked again. His name seemed to be the only words you were able to form in your shock.

“C’mon,” he urged gently, pulling you along.

You let him lead the way, eyes scanning the debris hopelessly. You stopped in your tracks the moment you saw the first body– it was a woman, probably in her late twenties, just like you. She had a mound of tile stacked on top of her and a trail of blood soaking through her yellow sweater. Her eyes were still open– like they were frozen in fear.

“Don’t look,” Tyler’s voice cut through the fog.

He put his body between you and her and placed his hands on both sides of your face, forcing your gaze to meet his.

“Sh– she’s dead,” you trembled.

Tyler nodded solemnly. “I know,” he nodded. “Don’t look, okay? Just keep your eyes on me.”

Tyler wound his arm around your shoulders and tugged you into his side. With his fingers digging into the fleshy part of your hip, he led you forward, bearing the majority of your weight. Eventually, he managed to lead you all out of the rubble of the mall.

“You sure you’re okay?” Tyler turned and asked the woman again. She nodded before thanking him and heading off in the direction of an ambulance.

Tyler seemed to have something similar in mind.

“I want to go home,” you insisted.

But Tyler shook his head. “You need to get your head checked out first.”

“Tyler, please–” you whimpered.

He glanced down at you– seemingly noticing the way your voice cracked. His face softened the moment he saw the tears sliding down your cheeks.

“Hey–” he said gently. “Baby, you’re okay. Everything’s going to be okay.”

“I just want to go home,” you repeated.

“I know, baby. I know,” he soothed. “But your head– I really want them to take a look. Then we can go home.”

You sunk your teeth into your lower lip. After a moment, you nodded defeatedly and let Tyler lead you the rest of the way to one of the many ambulances parked near what was left of the mall.

The paramedic who got to you first was a middle aged man with a kind smile. He told you how brave you were as he shined a flashlight in your eyes, checking your pupils.

When he moved to the wound on your temple, now coating your entire hairline in gooey blood, you grimaced.

“This is gonna need a few stitches,” he said after inspecting it.

Tyler sat beside you and let you squeeze his hand as tightly as you needed while the paramedic stitched you up. He applied a local anesthetic but you felt every second of the needle threading through your skin.

You held onto Tyler like your life depended on it, trying to allow his words of affirmation and comfort to consume you.

“Almost done,” the paramedic said before clipping the remainder of the thread. He placed a clean bandage on the side of your head and offered you a soft smile. “You did great,” he told you.

Although you were feeling detached from just about everything right now, you nodded in response before letting Tyler pull you to your feet.

“Think you can walk?” he asked.

You nodded again, although you didn’t entirely hear him.

“The parking garage collapsed– but Boone’s on his way. He’s gonna give us a ride home.”

“Okay,” you mumbled softly, letting yourself melt into Tyler’s side again.

The road where you met Boone was a short walk, and you were thankfully starting to get feeling back in your legs. But even still, you let Tyler support the majority of your weight as he guided you towards Boone’s familiar, beat up truck. Tyler held open the door and helped you climb inside.

“Christ–” Boone said, turning in the driver’s seat to get a good look at you.

“She’s okay,” Tyler answered, sliding into the backseat beside you. Although he sounded like he was trying to convince himself more than Boone.

“How the hell did you guys make it through that?” Boone asked as he surveyed the destruction around you. You forced yourself not to look. Instead, you rested your head against Tyler’s shoulder. “The blockade guy told me the entire storm shelter collapsed. I guess too many people crammed inside, so they couldn’t shut the door good.”

You swallowed thickly. If you hadn’t found Tyler, the storm shelter was going to be your plan B–

“We hid under the staircase,” he said as Boone began down the road. “Had Dexter been tracking anythin’ out this way?”

The two proceeded to talk about the sudden impact of the storm and whatever else tornado chasers cared about. Meanwhile, Tyler’s thumb trailed up and down your bare arm soothingly, allowing you to tune it all out.

When Boone pulled down your dirt driveway and put his car in park fifteen minutes later, he turned to face you. “I’m real glad you’re okay.”

You offered him a weak smile. “Me too.”

After thanking his friend, Tyler helped you out of the car and towards the house, his hand never leaving your waist until you were inside.

“Couch or bed?” he asked, shutting the front door behind him.

“Couch,” you murmured. The bed meant stairs, which you weren’t sure you were ready for quite yet.

“You got it,” he said.

Gently, Tyler helped lower you to the couch, where you curled up against the corduroy fabric and sighed.

But your eyes snapped open quickly as soon as you realized that Tyler wasn’t laying down with you.

“Where are you going?” you asked, trying (and failing) to mask the panic in your voice. You shifted and sat up, a sudden wave of pain hit your head, causing you to squeeze your eyes shut. You tried your best to mask it and force your eyes back open. It felt pathetic, but you didn’t really want Tyler out of your sight right now.

He turned around instantly. “I was just gonna get you some water and an ice pack, baby. I’ll be right back.”

“Okay,” you said uneasily. Your eyes remained trained on him the entire time he maneuvered around the kitchen. You could tell he noticed, too. His eyes kept flickering up to check on you.

He was back in less than a minute– but still you sighed a breath of relief. He set the glass of water down on the side table before taking a seat on the other end of the couch.

He handed you the ice pack and watched sadly as you placed it on your temple with a wince.

“Can I get you anything else?”

“Will you– will you lay down with me?” you asked him.

Tyler nodded. “Of course, baby.” He opened his arms, making a spot for you to lay between his legs. With your back resting against his chest, Tyler wound one arm around your middle and used the other to hold the ice pack against your head for you.

Using what little strength you had, you gripped his forearm. “Just... please don’t go,” you begged.

Tyler pressed his lips on the top of your head. “I won’t– I’m right here,” he assured you. “Not goin’ anywhere.”

You exhaled a sigh of relief and laid your head back against his chest, finally feeling content.

After a while, you were finally able to drift off in his embrace. Your body ached and your head throbbed, but everything felt more bearable when you were in Tyler’s arms.

#tyler owens x reader #tyler owens imagine #tyler owens fic #tyler owens x reader fic #tyler ownes x reader imagine #twisters imagine #twisters fic #twisters x reader #tyler owens twisters #twisters movie fic

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illusioncanthurtme--art · 2 months ago

Note

This may be a silly question… but I’m an artist trying to learn backgrounds. I’ve studied perspective until my hands fell off, but I don’t know how to choose an angle or not make things look wonky. I’ve tried asking a lot of artists, but I’m hoping to hear more than “just draw backgrounds”, because I have been, but I’m not improving.

Do you have any tips on how to practice?

The anonymous ask is much more recent but it reminded me of another ask from @cerealssoggies i forgot to answer thats, OOF... gotten old. Sorry about that. I'll answer your ask more directly at the end of this.

I'll talk about the perspective ask first. Anon... I'll answer your question as best as I can!

I think what makes perspective tricky is the beginning, when you're using perspective lines and grids and such to map out the picture. Because the actual technique of 2 point perspective isn't hard or complicated, it's getting the scene to look the way it does in your head thats tricky. I'm talking about the metaphorical "camera" location, angle, and... idk, focal length? If I'm using that phrase correctly.

So you can draw something like a simple square bedroom, and by the time you're done placing your horizon line, vanishing point, and perspective lines, and actually start drawing, you realize it doesn't look like how it does in your head. And from there, it's hard or nearly impossible to move things around to look like your vision, so you'll be tweaking each thing individually: uhh, let's move the horizon line down, the left vanishing point further? The right one closer? Both further? Huh??? And it's frustrating.

I've found, if you're drawing an environment from your imagination, the best way to start is to draw an teeeeny tiny thumbnail sketch. The smaller the better. Not just environments, but any drawing idea is easier to map out when it's smaller. Your brain can latch onto the visual as a whole when it's all tiny on a piece of paper.

Drawing my current blog header, the one of ford's research tent, I had a similar pickle. I knew exactly where I wanted the camera to be, in the corner of the tent, and I knew I wanted the camera to be more wide, so you could see most of his tent while keeping the feeling that it's small. I started digitally with perspective lines and quickly got frustrated. SO - I took to my sketchbook and thought reeeeeally hard about what it looked like in my head, and tried mapping it out in a tiny tiny thumbnail. Here's what that looked like:

This was closer to what I wanted than what I first had on my computer. I knew from there that I wanted the furniture items to be closer together and the camera higher (you can see my scribble writing saying this), so I scanned my thumbnail, and drew on top of it to get closer to the vision. Then, from there, I was able to add a proper perspective grid based on what I had already drawn.

THEN you can finally get down to the fun part - actually populating your room with furniture and details. I put this sketch on paper and did most of the real drawing traditionally:

In summary: instead of jumping straight into perspective theory, thumbnail the idea as rough as you can. Then base the angles of the perspective lines on your thumbnail.

But.... even still, I don't have the strongest ability to picture things mentally, and not everyone is gonna be able to do that (although it is a good muscle to exercise.) Sort of a segue into the second ask - those backgrounds of dibs car? I straight up traced over pictures I took of my car. I'm not the biggest advocate for tracing, it does kind of feel like cheating, BUT for the purposes of this animation? There's no point in getting on a high horse. I needed to draw his car like 10 times and there was no reason to torture myself. I did photoshop some of the photos before I drew over them because the focal length made the car look bigger than I wanted it to? And a lot of it was guessing what the car looked like behind the front seats, etc.

But this does remind me of an exercise I did in school for an illustration mentorship class. The mentor for one unit was a set designer working for Netflix. She was given photos of a room that a scene would be shot in, and she drew the set on top of it: like furniture, decorations, etc. So my assignment was to choose a stock photo, and do some world building concept art based on the photo. From the photo, you can figure out the perspective by identifying lines/angles that theoretically lead to a vanishing point. You need at least two lines, and you extend them really far and see where they cross. Where they meet is a vanishing point. Find two vanishing points and they are level with the horizon line. Then use the perspective dots you just found to draw furniture, items, and you can even get creative and change the shape/height/size of the rooms/buildings/etc, while still using the same perspective.

If an image from the internet feels too much like cheating (it SHOULDN'T, you'll only learn from it and your drawing won't look anything like the image by the time you're done), you can always take your own photos. This technique is honestly what made me enjoy drawing backgrounds in the first place. It made it fun! And drawing should be fun.

I still do this sort of thing today. Here's the reference picture I had my sister take of me for my Fairy godmother illustration. (This is from a couple years ago.) I drew on top of it in photoshop to get my best guess as to the lines and angles. I didn't trace this one, but I did use it very heavily for reference!

So I guess... to summarize both techniques, don't jump right into perspective. Best way to start, that's fun and not wildly frustrating, is to use a photo. If your vision is hyper specific, start from a tiny thumbnail and work your way up. Then the fun part!! Populating the scene with furniture and items and fun little details.

To answer @cerealssoggies question more directly: omg, thank you?? :O💞 I'm always so wowed when people talk about my prints and where they put them. I'm really glad you like the fairy godmother one! My mom also has one hung up in her room lol!

My advice on the design front isn't as specific, because that always felt like the easy part. Once you have the room or whatever mapped out, it's just about drawing all the Stuff. Which for me usually means getting in the head of the character and asking myself what sort of things they'd have around themselves and their environment. And obviously if the setting isn't a characters room/personal environment like the previous three examples, then you'd just have to think about what the environments purpose is, and what sort of stuff would be there. When I'm thinking about a background before I draw it, I'll ask myself what items or features it will have. For the ford tent, I made a list of all the stuff I thought he might have in there (I googled winter camping trip packing lists, as well as science-y tools and gadgets). For dibs car, I asked people on tumblr for suggestions as to what I should put in there.

And look up references! Reference is always a good thing.

In real life, I'm a maximalist and a clutterbug. This bleeds into my drawings - I like it when an environment feels full and lived in.

Here's my bedroom lol.

WELL typing and compiling this took up a greater portion of my Friday but I really hope this was helpful to you and others!!

#ask #answered #anon #cerealssoggies #drawing tips #perspective #perspective drawing #drawing tutorial #background drawing #background art

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oc-ology · 5 months ago

Text

How to get past the fear of OC posting

People should create for the sake of creating but people post to engage with the community. However, posting can be intimidating and anxiety-inducing for a lot of people. It’s easy to say “do it scared” but much harder to put into practice. So, I’ve put together a few steps that lead up to doing it scared. These won’t work for everyone and this is meant more as general advice.

Step One: Why are you scared?

The first step is to figure out what about posting is scary for you. Oftentimes, it’s not as simple as “what if my post flops” or “what if people think I’m cringe”. Once you’ve figured out the surface-level reason, dig a little deeper. If your post flops, does that lead to you doubting the worth of what you’re creating? If you’re worried about what people think, is that because you’ve experienced judgement before or are worried your inbox will be flooded with criticism?

Identifying why you’re scared will not only help you understand yourself better (yippee!) but you can also then work on the source of your fears and anxieties at your own pace.

Step Two: Find ways to lessen your fears

One way of working through anxiety online is to find ways to mitigate the specific source of your fear.

Some fears have easier solutions than others. If you’re worried about people criticising your work, you can turn off anonymous asks (as most people are less likely to be haters when there’s a name attached to it) or turn asks off entirely, as well as limiting replies to those who have been following for a week. This way, if someone does want to be an unpleasant individual, it’s a little harder for them to do so.

A lack of engagement is a little harder to remedy. Here, the only real solution is to try and divorce the idea that engagement = worth. Remember why you’re creating an OC. Because it’s fun! It’s an act of creation! Because you want to find a community…? A community or OC friends will never just drop into your lap. You need to seek them out yourself. Look into discord servers, forums, tumblr networks (are they still a thing?), fandom events and exchanges, and most importantly: go out of your way to send asks/questions to others and build friendships with them! If you’ve got social anxiety like me, this is going to be a big challenge. Which leads to the next step…

Step Three: Start small

It doesn’t matter how small your first step is - so long as that step is forwards! If you’re nervous about OC posting, find the smallest thing about them and post it with the expectation of getting no notes. That’s right, I want you to go in and expect it to flop. Anything over one note is an automatic win. This first post isn’t about engagement - it’s about getting over the initial fear of posting.

It can be tempting to just go right out the gate with elaborate explanations of backstory, lore implications, power levels, everything. But the trick really is to start small. Most people scrolling tumblr aren’t going to read a few thousand words on something they’re not invested in yet. TL;DR is a curse that I’m sure we’ve all fallen victim to.

Instead, break up information about your OC into small pieces that can be posted one by one and have some kind of visual piece with it. People are usually more drawn to images than text. For example, which of these two things are more visually interesting?

What Perseus keeps in his bag:

Amulet

Tinderbox

A broken blade

50ft of hempen rope

25gp of silver powder

Waterskin

Rations (cheese, bread, sausage)

Obviously this comes down to personal preference but a lot of people would find the illustrated version to be more interesting. You don’t need to be an artist to do this either! You could make a version of that example in photoshop or a similar program. Picrews, moodboards, edits, game screenshots and photography can all be used to add a visual element to your posts.

Step Four: Why am I still scared?

Fear is not easily stamped out. Anxiety is definitely the kind of thing that lingers. These steps aren’t meant to immediately make OC posting not-scary. That’s something that will only come with time as you get used to it. Again: Do it. Do it scared. Gradually, it’ll be less terrifying and in the meantime, you might be able to make a few friends who also want to talk about your blorbo.

#oc posting #oc

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librarygarten · 2 months ago

Note

Hi!!! It’s the speedrun anon that talked about Wild fighting Ganon with a pot lid and spoon :3

I am so happy you wrote a lil series on my idea!!! It really means a lot ❤️

I had another idea, because I’m crazy—in the Linked Universe comic, when Twilight gets hit by Dink and is basically dying, I was thinking about his wound and how they treated it…

Since it takes place in Medieval times, how clean was the actual wound before Hyrule started healing it?? A fun idea I had was: Ikesai!Reader using modern medicine to help treat Twilight (and the others as they traveled)

Pain meds, Neosporin, bandaids with fun patterns on them—maybe even a first aid kit if they knew they were going somewhere dangerous. Reader would treat small cuts and they’d heal quicker overtime without using magic. It saves a lot of time, energy, and money for the group; Hyrule doesn’t have to use his magic as much, potions aren’t wasted on smaller wounds, and none of they’re wounds are infected!!

I feel like the climax of reader using these methods would be Twilight’s injury; they ask Wars to go to the nearest bar and grab the strongest alcohol there, they ask Legend for a needle and some fishing line, and ask Hyrule to using magic to numb the pain of the wound.

Unwrapping Twilight’s bandages, with alcohol and needle in hand, Reader begins to sew up Twilight’s wound. It’s crude and disgusting, using only found objects and most likely mead to sterilize the needle and fishing line. Most would leave the room, but Hyrule would have to basically sit there and watch this random person sew up a wound like they were fixing a tear in fabric.

Once the wound is sewn up and cleaned, it looks a lot better than it did before. There is still the strange magic surrounding the cut but at least it’s closed up now. Reader’s hands are bloodly and smell like mead, but at least Twilight’s wound isn’t making him bleed out.

It healed quicker once Hyrule began to use healing magic on him again, the dark magic around the wound is in a more condensed area so it’s easier to dispel. The only problem…is that Reader has to take out the thread, and this time, Twilight’s awake.

—🌾 Anon (I’ve never named myself in anonymous I hope that’s okay :))

Yay! My first emoji anon :D Sorry this took so long! I got way too carried away learning about medieval medicine lol. I kind of skipped right to when Twi's injured because it was already 2k words long and an intro would have most likely doubled the word count askdfsl.

“Shit. Shit. Shit.” You chant it like a mantra. The entire way back to the village. The entire time it took to drag Twilight off Epona and up the stairs as Time arranges your lodging with the innkeeper.

“I’m fine. It’s just a scratch.” Twilight tells you for the fifth time. He still seems cross that he was benched from the fight, but his voice has much less bite behind it now.

You’re losing him.

“It is not ‘just a scratch,’ Link!” You scold. You can feel tears prick at the corner of your eyes. The use of his real name seems to bring him back a bit, but his eyes are still too unfocused for your liking.

Too much blood. He’s lost too much blood.

You remove one of your hands from his side, where you had been trying desperately to apply pressure to the wound. Your entire hand is soaked in blood.

“Press down here, okay.” You move Twilight’s hand to where yours had been, only taking your other hand off when you’re sure he’s properly applying pressure. “Don’t stop, okay? I’ll be right back.”

Before he can answer, you bolt out of the room and back down the stairs. You run headfirst into Time.

“Woah! Careful,” he says. He looks at your hands, covered in blood past the wrists, and winces. He holds up a pile of white cloth. “I got bandages from the innkeeper.”

“That’s not going to be enough.” You scrunch up your nose at the bandages. They looked clean, but you doubt they were properly sterilized. The one drawback to having fairies and potions magically heal everything is that these people had absolutely no idea how to treat a wound without them. “Go to the kitchen and get vinegar and honey. And see if the innkeeper has any silk thread. If not, try whatever craft store equivalent you guys have.”

Time can only watch as you take the bandages from his hands and rush back up the stairs. After a quick stop to wash your hands, you practically sprint back to the room.

Twilight is still conscious when you get back, thank Hylia, but he doesn’t turn his head to look at you when you come in.

“I’m back.” You tell him as you kneel next to the bed.

“Don’t sound so worried. It’s not like I’m going anywhere,” He smiles. “You were only gone for 30 seconds.”

“You were coughing up blood, Twi!” You peel his shirt away from the wound and quickly press some of the bandages Time had given you against the wound. It would have to do for now. “That means that the thing cracked your ribs and one of those ribs punctured your lungs.”

“I’m pretty sure the fairy took care of that.” He winces as you press even harder against the cut.

The blood won’t stop.

Before you can descend into hopelessness, the door bursts open. You jump at the noise, and turn to see Hyrule in the doorway, with Four close behind. They both look out of breath.

“So it’s true… it really is him.” Hyrule gasps. “I think I can help.”

“Fairy didn’t do anything.” You sigh, removing one of your hands to wipe the hair away from your face. The color drains from the two heroes' faces when they see the blood.

“I have a life spell.” Hyrule’s palms glow blue as he hovers them over Twilight’s body.

Nothing happens.

His brow furrows as he tries again. He thrusts his hands forward.

Nothing.

“No!” Hyrule cries. Twilight seems to have finally passed out from the blood loss.

“Crap,” you mutter. “Where the heck is Time with that thread and antiseptic.”

“Here.” The old man in question pushes past Four, who seems to be clinging to the doorway for support. He hands you a bottle of vinegar, a jar of honey, and a spool of silk thread with a needle stabbed into the side.

“Great, thanks.” You nod at him. “Rulie, keep that spell going if you can. The wound may not be healing but he had some internal injuries that I want to make sure won’t be an issue. The fairy stopped halfway through and I’m not about to do DIY surgery to remove shattered rib pieces from his lungs.”

Hyrule presses his lips together in a thin line and nods. His hands glow once more as he performs the life spell. You peel away the bandages you had been pressing against Twilight’s side.

“Sorry, buddy. This is going to sting,” you apologize, then pour the water from your canteen over the wound. The old blood washes away, only to be replaced rather quickly by more from the cut.

“What are you doing?” Time asks when you pick up the needle and thread.

“Stitches.” Is all you say as you hold the needle over the candle on the nightstand. Hopefully the heat will disinfect it somewhat.

“You're just going to… what, sew him back together like a torn shirt?” Four looks ready to puke as you begin sewing the wound. Time looks away, trying to ignore the faint sound of the needle sliding through bloody flesh. Hyrule can’t seem to look away, gaze locked on your hands.

“Magic isn’t working to close it,” you grimace. “This is how we close large wounds back home.”

“I know you said you didn’t have any magic where you lived, but this…” Hyrule swallows, hands still over Twilight as he casts the life spell.

“I think I’m going to be sick.” Four covers his mouth with one hand as you continue your work. “I’ll go see Epona is comfortable or something.” He rushes down the stairs so fast you’re surprised he doesn’t trip down them.

“Eh. Probably for the better. Too many people in here probably isn’t a good idea right now, anyway,” you cut the thread, satisfied with your stitches. They looked almost professional, with nice, even spacing. But you would have time to be proud later. Time to make sure infection didn’t get in there.

“How long will he be out for?” Time makes a point to look only at your face as he asks the question. Maybe he should leave, too. Watching you couldn’t be good for his health.

“Hard to tell. He’s lost a lot of blood,” you explain as you pour the vinegar into the honey and mix it together. “Do fairies and life spells fix blood loss?”

“I have… no idea,” Hyrule lowers his hands. He looks exhausted. He must have expended every last bit of energy casting that life spell for this long. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a wound bleed this long.”

“Great,” you groan. Hopefully the magic could deal with the blood loss like it dealt with broken ribs and punctured lungs, because there was no way to tell anyone’s blood type here and you did NOT want to play roulette with a blood transfusion.

“What are you doing?” Time asks again. His voice is tense as you begin spreading the vinegar-honey mixture over Twilight’s wound. You have half a mind to kick him out of the room right there, but he’s technically the family of the patient. Still, if he was going to breathe down your neck the whole time you wouldn’t have much choice.

“It will keep out infections. The vinegar and honey are really good at keeping bacteria out,” you wipe your hands off on your pants, trying to get as much of the honey off your hands as possible before reaching for your canteen again. You wash your hands again, just to be safe, before reaching for the pile of remaining bandages.

“Bacteria? What’s that?” Hyrule asks.

“Very, very small organisms that can cause infections if they get into the wound,” you sigh. You don’t have the time to explain germ theory to them right now. You wrap the bandages around Twilight’s abdomen as tightly as possible. Vinegar-honey oozes from under the bandages, and even now, you can see the deep red of Twilight’s blood seeping through.

Crap. This was going to be a long night.

The next few days pass in a blur. Check the wound. Change the bandages. Try to measure Twilight’s heart rate with just your hand and a watch (his pulse seems okay. Hyrule’s spell must be dealing with the blood loss). Shoo people out of the room. Check the wound. Change the bandages. Try not to fall asleep.

When you’re not watching over Twilight, you’re taking care of an exhausted Hyrule. Using the spell so much for so long was taking a toll on him. He looked about as tired as you felt.

Still, Twilight was improving. Most of the color was back in his cheeks, and he kept waking up to say random depressing things before passing back out. Maybe that's why you finally let yourself drift off into sleep, sat on a stool and slumped over the side of the bed.

The feeling of someone rubbing your hair wakes you.

“Y/N?”

Your eyes snap open. Twilight is awake. He’s propped up against the headboard of the bed, his fingers threaded through your hair.

“Please tell me you slept while I was out,” he laughs, but his smile doesn't reach his eyes. He’s worried about you.

Hey! That was your job!

“You scared me half to death!” You sit up and punch his shoulder. Now that he’s finally awake, you have an earful and a half to give him. “What on earth were you thinking, sprinting towards that thing!?”

“Ow,” he chuckles.

“Don’t worry. The old man and the captain already chewed him out,” Wild snickers from somewhere behind you. Looking around, you see the entire chain scattered about the room.

“Good,” you flop your head back onto the mattress. Your eyes still ache from so many sleepless nights. “How long was I out?”

“Nearly half a day,” Legend snickers.

“Crap,” you groan. Twilight’s bandages should have been changed hours ago. “Did anyone change the bandages? Please tell me you washed your hands before. Oh, and did you apply the antiseptic?”

“Easy there, doc,” Warriors places a hand on your shoulder. “The wound has pretty much closed thanks to you and Hyrule.”

“WHAT?” You bolt upright again. “It should have taken at least a week, maybe two!”

“Magic finally started working on it while you were out,” Hyrule explains. Great. Just great.

“Then I need to take the stitches out,” you press your knuckles into your eyelids, trying to dispel your pounding headache.

“Stitches?” Wind asks.

“They sewed him back together like a garment,” Four grimaces.

“But then shouldn’t the stitches stay in and keep him… together?” Sky peers around your shoulder as you unwrap the bandages. He gags when he sees the cut, which was now just a long red line across Twilight’s stomach and lower chest. Wind tries to elbow his way to see as well, but Sky stops him.

You get up to wash your hands, and when you come back, Twilight is poking at the stitches.

“Don’t touch it!” You swat his hand away. “I didn’t make my own antiseptic for you just so you could infect the cut after it’s mostly healed!”

“You really did just… sew me closed,” he sounds shocked.

“Yep. Now hold still,” you carefully cut each stitch, removing the thread, small beads of blood forming where the stitches used to be. He winces at the feeling. Time watches closely, knuckles white as he grips the footboard of the bed.

“Woah. All that was inside his skin?” Wind stares dumbfoundedly at the pile of knots you removed. You nod, and keep working.

“There,” you sigh as the last bit of thread is removed. “Just keep the area clean and you should be good.”

“Do you do this every time people get hurt in your world?” Legend raises an eyebrow.

“No. Stitches are just for bigger cuts,” you explain.

There’s a moment of silence before Wind speaks up.

“Can I get stitches?” He asks excitedly. A chorus of nine voices responds.

“No!”

Notes:

Vinegar has antiseptic properties, while alcoholic drinks do not due to their low alcohol percentage. Honey, an ingredient found in mead, has some antiseptic properties, meaning mead also could be used to disinfect a wound, but a combination of honey and vinegar seems to be more effective.

Today, most stitches are made of synthetic fibers. Fishing line is also made of synthetic fibers, like nylon. However, in the medieval period, fishing line was most likely made of nettle-hemp. Today, fishing line would be a great material for stitches. However, I think silk, which is still occasionally used today, might be a better option (silk was also used to make fishing line, but it seems only after the industrial revolution got started).

Also, stitches don’t hurt coming out. I had stitches in my foot (a pretty sensitive area) as a kid. I also have an incredibly low pain tolerance and an intense fear of needles. You can kind of feel them pull, and if you’re squeamish you might freak yourself out, but it definitely doesn’t hurt. Although, I once heard of a doctor that didn’t undo the knots, thus pulling the entire thread of knots through the skin, which would absolutely hurt like hell, but that was because of his incompetence lol.

I made it so reader doesn't see the magic around the cut, as I think isekai and modern readers would have a harder time noticing it. We don't have magic, so we would probably not recognize it if we saw or felt it. It is still very much there.

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neferaskingdom · 2 months ago

Text

♡ Valentine Hotline | LN4

NEFERASKINGDOM

Summary: Running a Valentine’s hotline was supposed to be fun—until she accidentally helps Bob plan the perfect date… for herself.

Previous | Series Masterlist | Next

The last thing she expected to be doing this Valentine’s Day was running an anonymous emergency hotline for lovesick fools, but here she was—headset on, taking call after call, all in the name of charity. Her best friend had roped her into this, promising it would be “fun,” but so far, all she had done was talk panicked men out of buying last-minute gas station flowers.

Her latest call came in with a hesitant, almost nervous greeting. “Uh… hi. Is this Cupid?”

“That’s me,” she said, suppressing a laugh at the ridiculous alias she’d been assigned. “How can I help you, caller?”

There was a pause before he mumbled, “I need help asking out my crush.”

She smiled, already endeared. “Of course! What’s your name?”

A beat of silence, then—“Bob.”

She snorted. “Bob, huh? Okay, Bob, tell me about your crush.”

Bob sighed dreamily, and when he spoke again, it was with a kind of reverence that made her heart melt. “She’s amazing. Like, so cute, but not in a way that she even realizes. And she’s really smart—like, she remembers the smallest details about people, and she’s kind, too. Like, the kind of kind where she doesn’t even think twice about it, she just does things that make life easier for everyone around her. And she’s so funny, sometimes without even trying. I mean, she makes me laugh over the dumbest things. And—God, she’s way out of my league, but I really, really like her. It’s ridiculous how much I like her.”

Her heart melted. “That’s adorable. Have you spoken to her before?”

“Sort of,” he admitted. “We work together, but I don’t talk to her a lot because… well, I’m afraid I’ll say something stupid. I get irrationally shy around her.”

That piqued her curiosity. “Coworker, huh? What do you guys do?”

“I can’t say too much, or it’ll be obvious who I am,” Bob said quickly.

She nodded, intrigued but respecting his anonymity. “Alright, Bob. First things first, you need to start interacting with her more—test the waters, see how she reacts to you. Start flirting a little.”

“Oh God.”

She laughed. “Relax! I’ll help you. We’ll come up with a plan.”

And so, over the next few days, she helped Bob craft the perfect approach. They planned small conversations, little ways for him to test the waters—compliments, inside jokes, light teasing. He seemed enthusiastic yet nervous, but she assured him he was doing great.

Strangely, around the same time, Lando Norris—someone who had never gone out of his way to talk to her before—started showing up more often. He’d stop by her desk with a cheeky grin, making flirty comments that left her flushed. At first, she chalked it up to him just being friendly, but it kept happening.

“Looking good today,” Lando said one afternoon, leaning casually against her desk.

She rolled her eyes but felt her face warm. “Are you just going around giving out compliments to everyone?”

“Only to the pretty ones.” He winked, and she nearly choked on her coffee.

It was weird. But she couldn’t say she hated it.

A few days before Valentine’s Day, she was finishing up some work when Lando hovered nearby, looking uncharacteristically nervous. He shifted from foot to foot before finally clearing his throat.

“Hey, um… can I talk to you for a sec?” he asked, rubbing the back of his neck.

She turned in her chair, surprised by his serious tone. “Sure, what’s up?”

He exhaled, looking at the floor before meeting her eyes. “I… uh, was wondering if you wanted to go out with me. Like, on a date. For Valentine’s Day.”

Her brain short-circuited for a moment. “Wait. You’re asking me out?”

Lando winced. “I mean, yeah? But you don’t have to say yes, obviously, I just thought—”

She cut him off with a grin. “Lando, I’d love to.”

His eyes widened. “Wait, really?”

“Yeah,” she laughed.

The relief on his face was almost comical. “Oh. Oh, cool! That’s great. Okay, um, yeah, I’ll pick you up at seven?”

“Sounds perfect.”

He left looking a little dazed but incredibly happy, and she couldn't help but smile to herself.

That night, Bob called her one last time.

“She said yes!” he practically shouted through the phone. “I asked her out, and she said yes!”

She grinned, heart swelling with pride. “Bob! That’s amazing! I told you she’d like you.”

“I couldn’t have done it without you. Seriously, if—no, when—we get married, you’re getting an invite.”

She laughed. “I’ll hold you to that. Have fun on your date, Bob.”

“Thanks, Cupid. You’re the best.”

And with that, her hotline duties were done.

The next evening, she met Lando for their date, dressed in a pretty outfit and buzzing with anticipation. He looked a little nervous, which was unusual for him, but she found it endearing. The restaurant was charming, the table setup romantic—candles, her favorite flowers, the works.

She took one look at it all and hesitated. The setup felt oddly familiar. Too familiar.

The restaurant. The flowers. The exact order of events.

Her stomach flipped as a ridiculous but nagging thought entered her mind. She looked at Lando, who was focused on cutting his steak, completely unaware of her staring.

“This is going to sound weird,” she began slowly, watching his reaction, “but do you know someone named Bob?”

Lando’s knife froze mid-slice. His head snapped up so fast she thought he might get whiplash. “W-what?”

She gaped at him. “Oh my God. You’re Bob, aren’t you??”

Lando opened and closed his mouth like a fish, looking utterly horrified. “H-how do you—how do you know that?”

She let out a laugh, shaking her head. “Because I’m Cupid.”

Lando choked on his water, coughing as his eyes widened in horror. “No. No way.”

“Yes way,” she said, grinning at his absolute mortification. “I can’t believe I spent days coaching you on how to flirt with me.”

Lando groaned, burying his face in his hands. “Oh my God. I’m never living this down.”

She reached across the table, placing her hand over his. “Lando.”

He peeked at her between his fingers. “Yeah?”

She smiled softly. “So… all those sweet things you said about your crush… they were actually about me?”

Lando groaned again, face going bright red. “I—uh—maybe?”

She felt her heart flutter, warmth spreading through her chest. “That’s honestly the sweetest thing ever.”

Lando let out a breath, rubbing his temples. “You must think I’m such a loser. Calling a hotline of all things just to figure out how to ask you out.”

She shook her head, squeezing his hand. “No. I think it’s endearing. You went out of your way to make sure you got it right. You wanted it to be perfect. That’s really, really sweet.”

He looked at her, expression softening. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Their dinner was filled with laughter and easy conversation, and by the time he walked her to her door, she felt lighter than ever. He hesitated on her porch, shoving his hands into his pockets. “So, uh… goodnight?”

She rolled her eyes, stepping closer. “Goodnight, Bob.”

Before he could groan again, she kissed him, soft and sweet, smiling against his lips as he melted into it. When she pulled away, he was grinning like an idiot.

“Best Valentine’s Day ever,” he murmured.

She laughed. “Yeah. I think so too.”

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woow-woood-who · 4 months ago

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BEWARE OF @captain-kopy765

This post is to document and warn those around this user of their toxicity and how they have tried to work someone, who they believed to be a hacker, to delete the socials of @sm-baby and their side blogs. It also appears that they have an obsession with this user as they wanted all the persons socials removed. They have also harassed users for simply disagree with them. I believe that they should be avoided and pushed out of the TADC community and that all admins should kick them from their community. To not clutter anyones desktop all information will be below the cut.

It all started with this post that Kopy has covertly removed from their blog but has been archived here is you need proof of it being real. [https://www.tumblr.com/hushhushyou/770780622075609088/lol-whats-the-tea-for-this?source=share]

Now is the conversation that was had between the user @hushhushyou and Kopy. The first image is to highlight that username and image are the same and give concrete evidence that these messages are real.

From here the images will be cropped for easier reading.

To clarify the user Hush did not hack into any accounts owned by the user SM. Now that is the main point of the beware. The next part will be talking about the toxicity and entitlement of the user Kopy. Starting with a community that Kopy runs. There was this post made -

A hot take but honestly not a big of a deal. Everyone has opinions.

The issue happens after when a user posted this message - this is a screenshot of from the messages we see later but the user claims that they copy and pasted their original response from their reply to this post.

Click to read for better quality.

If you notice the name of the user who posted is named donquixote-dolflamingo this username is Kopy's old user name as show below with a new screenshot that the user took, when I was double checking.

Unlike Hush this user asks to remain anonymous so the name and profile image will be hidden.

Now onto the messages - click for easer readingK

The user has claimed that this interaction has pushed them away from interacting with the community because they fear the rest of thee fandom is more toxic then Kopy. Now I want to share how the user Kopy interacts with their community highlighting how they interact with the community in a way that can be said as rude and toxic. On their own it can be seen as playful. But added to everything here I feel that it adds another insight to their character. Below is the main communities that they are admin to. Incase anyone wants to avoid them.

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itsgivingmami · 20 days ago

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A Long Search Ended

Part One- Real And Dangerous

Rhea Ripley x Reader

You almost didn’t go.

Not because you were nervous—but because you’ve learned to trust your instincts, and this had every opportunity to go wrong.

Anonymous messages. Confident, clipped texts signed “Mami.” Lavish coffee tips sent to your link every morning—5x the price of what you actually ordered. Then, the invite: an upscale rooftop bar downtown, no profile picture, no name, just “Wear black. I’ll know you.”

You’d Googled the bar three times. Glass railings. Skyline views. Cocktails named after ancient gods. You weren’t scared. You were just strategic.

You wore your sharpest heels. Vintage. Black satin. They hurt a little, but that was part of the look. You didn’t come here to play small.

You told yourself you’d leave after one drink. Just long enough to prove you weren’t afraid of your own power, your own choices.

And then you saw her.

Rhea Ripley.

Nothing like you imagined—and somehow exactly what you’d hoped for.

She’s already at the corner table, silhouette haloed in citylight, like the universe remembered how to draw desire in human form. Tall, inked, dressed in black. Button-down half open, chains catching the glow, jawline so clean it could cut glass. One arm slung over the chair. The other holding a drink like it owes her something.

She isn’t scrolling. Isn’t looking around.

She’s already watching you.

And she smiles.

You walk toward her like you own the place.

“You came,” she says, voice smooth and grounded in velvet. “Good girl.”

Your spine straightens, but you don’t flinch. If anything, your smirk answers hers.

“I almost didn’t,” you admit, sliding into the chair she just pulled out for you with one hand. “You know how this can be,” Rhea hums in agreement, “But something told me you’d be real. That or dangerous.”

She shrugs, amused. “Can’t promise I’m not both.”

She gestures toward the bar without breaking eye contact. “What’ll you have, pretty girl?”

You give your order with a nod—unapologetic but polite. She watches you like she’s impressed already.

You know how to hold her attention. And you like the weight of it and have no intention of handing it over to someone else.

The drinks come fast. She tips without looking. The man behind the bar practically trips over himself to say thank you.

Rhea doesn't blink. Her attention is on you.

“So,” she says, swirling the rim of her glass with one ringed finger, “let’s get the formalities out of the way.”

You cross your legs slowly– controlled. “Sure.”

“What are you looking for?” she asks, tone low. Curious, not calculating.

You don’t blink. “Someone who gets it. Who spoils because they want to, not because it’s earned by fake sweetness. I’m not an actress. If I flirt, it’s because I feel like it. If I don’t, I won’t fake it for a handbag.”

Her expression doesn’t change, but something behind her eyes sharpens. Like she’s just made a decision.

“I don’t like girls who fake it either,” she says. “Good. Keep going.”

You take a slow sip. “I’m not naive. I know what this is. But I don’t want to be bought. I want to be chosen. And I want the same right in return.”

Rhea nods, thoughtful. “So you want power. Just not a leash.”

“I want someone who sees me as a luxury. Not a receipt.”

That earns you a grin. “Fuck. You’re better than I thought.”

You lift a brow. “What did you think I’d be?”

She leans in, resting her forearms on the table. “ Too timid. Or greedy. Either way, forgettable.”

You let the compliment sit. You don’t need to downplay it. You don’t blush. You just smile and take another sip.

“And you?” you ask. “What are you looking for?”

Rhea’s gaze doesn’t waver.

“Someone who lets me take care of them,” she says simply. “Without guilt. Without games. I want to come home from a week of throwing chairs and fists and find a reason to breathe out. I want soft moments. Eye contact. Quiet trust. And I want to give you everything that makes your life easier.”

She tilts her glass. “That’s the deal.”

You study her. “That sounds dangerously good.”

She smirks. “Baby, most people agree I am.”

There’s a silence that crackles between you. Not awkward. Heavy. Bright. Something dangerous and golden and electric.

“So,” she adds, voice silkier now, “what’s your allowance minimum?”

You don’t squirm. You don’t hedge.

“A thousand a week,” you say easily. “At baseline.”

She tilts her head like she’s watching a spark she’d only hoped to see.

“Add a zero,” she replies, lifting her drink. “And don’t insult yourself like that again.”

You blink, momentarily stunned but you don’t flinch. “You don’t know if I’m worth that.” and factually, you’re right. But the two of you are old hands at this game and from what she's seen so far, she wants you as her playmate.

She grins, slow and devilish. “I’ll enjoy finding out.”

You sip your drink like it doesn’t matter. Like the idea of her isn't causing you excitement. Like the ice doesn’t burn down your throat and the way she’s looking at you doesn’t stir heat low in your stomach.Like she hasn’t even paid for anything yet and you feel spoiled. You hum thoughtfully, setting the glass down.

“I’m not cheap,” you murmur. “In case that’s unclear.”

Rhea’s gaze narrows—pleased. “Good.”

She leans forward, resting her forearms on the table, her rings catching the glow from the candle between you. “Cheap doesn’t suit you. You wear value too well.”

You let your lip curve up slightly, just enough to show her you heard the compliment. Just enough to let her know she’s earned another.

“You always this smooth?” you ask, tilting your head.

“No,” she says simply. “Only when I want something.”

That makes your brow lift—just a little. “And what exactly do you want, Mami?”

The nickname rolls off your tongue like you’ve always said it. Like it belongs there. And Rhea, for a fraction of a second, loses her rhythm. Her brain forgets that she’s heard a thousand people call her that, but she's never heard you do it and she's not sure she cares to hear it from anyone else again. Her jaw flexes. Her thumb taps once against her glass.

Then she recovers.

“I want late-night drives with someone who knows how to sit in silence and still be heard,” she replies. “I want to spoil a woman who doesn’t apologize when she asks for more. I want to be the one she texts when she’s bored, or hungry, or just needs to feel expensive for no reason. I don't want someone who thinks they're bothering me for something when i've told them a thousand times I want to give it”

She leans in just enough for the scent of her cologne to wrap around you—clean and rich and a little dangerous.

“I want to give you the world,” she says. “If you’re smart enough to let me.”

The words settle between you like silk sheets—cool at first, but warming fast.

Your fingers trace the rim of your glass pink lip pulled between your teeth and you listen. “And what do you get?”

Her smile doesn’t falter. “The pleasure of watching you take it.”

It’s almost too much. Her confidence, the way she seems to genuinely crave this, the way no woman you could’ve met on the site compares to this. Almost.

But you’re better at holding your own than most and she's clearly looking for experience, or at least the illusion of it. You sit back, letting the silence drag for a beat—let her feel you assess the offer like it’s one of many. Even though you already know no one else could hold a candle to her.

“I don’t fake things,” you reiterate one last time, the honesty she brings to the table prompts your own, “Not pleasure. Not conversation. Not interest.”

“I don’t want to pretend I do enough of it at work, paid for too many fake girls to last me lifetimes,” she replies instantly. “I want you.”

The way she says it—low and unapologetic—catches something behind your ribs.

Your voice softens, but it doesn’t tremble. “You’re sure?”

Rhea tilts her head. “I’m never not.”

Another beat. The tension shifts, subtle but seismic.

You feel it in your spine.

In the air between your knees under the table.

In the way she watches you like she’s ready to spend ten grand and not even ask for your name in return—just to see you smile like this again.

“So,” she murmurs, her voice a velvet blade, “are you ready to let me take care of you?”

Your heart doesn’t race.

It prowls.

You lean forward slightly, letting your knee brush hers beneath the table.

“Yes,”

—

The night ends before you’re ready.

Not because you’ve run out of things to say—if anything, your words are starting to blur, pulled close by candlelight and that low drawl of hers that always lands somewhere just behind your navel. You’ve kept her entertained—despite the fact she’d be happy staring at you in that dress.. You’ve kept control.

But she’s still holding the power.

And you like it that way.

You’ve spent the past two hours with her —drink in hand, gaze heavy on your lips, never once pretending to look away. She asked questions with the kind of focus that made your pulse jump, voice low and unhurried. She never pushed. Never pressed. Just… let the silence stretch where it needed to, like she trusted you’d fill it with something worth hearing.

And you did.

The bartender dims the lights slightly. The crowd thins. Rhea finishes her drink, slow, and stands.

Her hand extends toward you—rings catching light, wrist inked, knuckles slightly bruised. You take her hand, gentle around the wounds, your fingers sliding against hers in a soft grip that still makes your stomach twist. She helps you from the booth like it's a habit. Like it’s instinct. Like you already belong where her hand goes first.

You don’t speak.

Not yet.

The walk out is quiet. Her body close to yours, not crowding but anchoring. Every few steps, her hand grazes your back—just enough to remind you she’s there. That she’s watching. That this isn’t some exit on autopilot. She’s walking you out. You get the attention. Not the others still sipping expensive cocktails or leaning too hard at the bar.

Outside, the air is cooler. Wind brushes your legs. You don’t shiver, but she notices.

Without a word, she shrugs off her jacket and drapes it around your shoulders. It’s warm. Smells like leather and cologne and her skin. You close your fingers over the lapel on instinct, holding it there.

Then she holds out a small, folded square of paper. The kind you only get when someone wants to make sure you don’t forget the moment.

Your name is written on it in her handwriting. Strong. Slanted. Clean.

You glance from the paper to her face. She’s unreadable beneath the soft glow of the streetlamp.

“I want to know when you’re home safe,” she says simply. “That’s my real number.”

You blink.

because you’re surprised— “You don’t want to use the app messenger?” —because she’s cutting straight through the act. No games. No waiting.

“You’re giving this to me after one night?” you ask, brows lifting.

“Sweetheart,” Rhea murmurs, stepping closer, “I was going to give it to you before you even sat down.”

The words make something inside you pull tight.

She lifts a hand and gently tucks a strand of hair behind your ear where the wind’s loosened it. Her knuckles drag down the edge of your cheek—slow, reverent, like she’s memorizing the curve of your skin with her hands instead of her eyes.

It’s not a move. It’s a choice.

A final act of care before you part.

“Im done with maybes,” she says. “You’ve said yes, I don’t keep my options open”

You stare up at her, heart steady now but beating hard. There’s no hesitation in her gaze. No uncertainty in her voice. Just the weight of a choice already made.

“…Thank you,” you say quietly. Not shy. Just honest.

She leans in—not for a kiss, not yet. Just close enough that you feel her breath against your lips when she speaks.

“Text me when you get home,” she says. “Or I won’t sleep.”

You nod.

She opens the door for you, waiting until you slide inside before shutting it gently behind you. She doesn’t wave. Doesn’t smile again. She just stands there—tall, steady, unmoving—watching you like a promise.

And when you finally unfold the note in your lap, the number is written in thick black ink. At the bottom, in the corner, there’s a small sketch—

A heart. Simple. Inked in the same bold hand.

Claiming you without asking permission. For the first time since the sun began to set, you allow yourself to feel excited.

And all the way home, the paper sits in your lap like it’s worth more than every hundred-dollar bill you’ve ever touched.

—

The city hums around her, alive, neon and windy—but Rhea walks like she’s underwater. She barely takes in the scenery as she reflects on the past 3 hours, the front of her brain still flashing with memories she’d like to keep for later. She could’ve called for another car but there's something about you that brings a nostalgia she doesn't recognize, but drags her along the busy street anyway.

Boots heavy. Hands in her pockets. Shoulders tight beneath the weight of her own thoughts. She cuts down a quieter street off the main drag, where the headlights can’t reach and the echo of your heels still rings in her ears.

She’s never liked goodbyes.

Even temporary ones.

And this one—it felt like more than a goodbye.

But tonight feels different.

Because you were different.

And Rhea is trying—failing—not to admit how much she noticed that.

You left with her jacket, her number, the scent of her skin on your shoulders. But what you left behind was the feeling of something new.

Rhea’s always been good at this.

She’s done this.

Sugar dynamics. Affection as an offering. Spoiling as a skill.

Something quieter than loneliness but sharper than peace. A need to give. To own. To make someone’s life prettier by touching it. And maybe, selfishly, to be seen as more than fists and titles and bruised knuckles in gold rings.

She’s had her share of maybe-babies. Girls who called her Mommy before they even asked her real name. Girls who wanted bags, not boundaries. Girls who loved the idea of her—until they met the steel beneath the silk.

It used to be a way to feel in control.

A way to give without the mess of commitment because she didn’t have time for it.

To feel wanted. Powerful.

To watch someone light up when she gave them something—jewelry, rent, plane tickets—without the tangle of actual feelings in return.

It was easier that way.

Until it wasn’t.

Until she started noticing how many of them flinched when she got quiet.

How many pulled out the baby voice when asking for money.

How many called her “Mommy” after half a drink—without meaning it.

Just because they thought it would work.

It did, for a while.

But it always left her colder.

And worse than the sugar babies?

The friends.

The ones who only called when they wanted to borrow something.

The ones who used her name for clout and ghosted when she got injured.

The ones who swore they saw her but never looked close enough to notice when she was drowning.

She started building walls before she even realized she was doing it.

Started answering less texts.

Stopped letting anyone follow her to work.

Stopped giving her real number.

And tonight?

Tonight she’d expected to feel nothing.

Maybe you’d be hot.

Maybe you’d be funny.

Maybe it would be another quiet, forgettable evening that left her wallet lighter and no more fulfilled.

But then you showed up—heels clicking, chin lifted, eyes sharp.

You sat across from her tonight like you already understood what you were walking into. Like you knew she’d be different from women you’ve met.

You flirted when you wanted to. Didn’t when you didn’t. You talked like you’d never been anyones before—not because no one had tried, but because no one had made it feel safe. You said Mami like you were testing the weight of it in your mouth and then smiling at the taste.

She ponders if that's the reason, or if it's something else that makes you so dangerous. The type that causes manic decisions and desire filled ideas. The type of danger that makes her delete her sugar profile despite waiting weeks for verification the first time.

You make her feel like the first time she bought herself something expensive, the first time she splurged on a fancy car, the first time she ever flew first class.

Rhea exhales hard through her nose. Her breath fogs under the glow of a flickering streetlamp. She pauses beneath it, the kind of place where deals are made and confessions slip out when the night’s too quiet.

She pulls her phone from her pocket.

You haven’t texted yet.

She looks up. The sky’s the color of velvet dipped in ash. Her reflection swims faintly in the shop window beside her—black shirt rumpled at the collar, neck flushed, jaw tight.

She still smells like you.

The thought alone makes her shift her stance, fists clenching once, jaw flexing again.

And then—

A vibration.

She closes her eyes and smiles, she barely needs to look to know who it is but she does anyway.

home safe.

Thank you again for tonight.

She stares at it for a beat.

Not because she doesn’t know what to say.

But because suddenly, everything she could say feels too small for the moment. Too small to signal the beginning of something new. Too simple, too practiced, too many times she’s played this game.

You don't need a reassuring nudge,

You're not of the maybe babies, trusted that she didn’t need you crawling and falling over her for her to spoil you,

You dont need to be persuaded into feeling comfortable with her.

You already did and that was worth more than anything she could’ve paid for tonight.

So she types one word.

Good.

Then she adds another, something out of her normal wheel house— like you.

Sweet dreams, baby.

She pockets her phone and starts walking again, slower now.

The street curves ahead. The night still stretches wide.

And for the first time in months—maybe years—Rhea doesn’t feel like she needs to guard what she gives.

She wants to give it.

Wants to watch you take it.

Wants to see if you’ll surprise her again.

She’s still not sure what this is.

But she knows it’s not fake.

And for her?

That’s enough to make her want the next night before this one’s even over.

—

It’s been just over an hour since you got home.

Your dress is folded across the back of your chair. Your heels are off. Your skin still smells faintly like her cologne—rich, smooth, and unsettling in the best way. A three wick candle burns on your desk, the scent of clean laundry floating around.

The note she gave you sits on your nightstand, unfolded, the logo of the bar sitting in the corner.

You haven’t texted again.

You don’t need to. She said text when you’re home. And you did.

But still, you keep hearing her words:

Text me when you’re home. Or I won’t sleep.

There’s something about it—soft but possessive, quiet but firm. Like she didn’t just say it. She meant it.

You want to tell her that despite having your comfy clothes on, the feeling of riding her high makes you feel wrapped in luxury. Like adding her into your phone adds thousands to your networth. Like being hers suddenly feels like being a necklace in a glass case that everyone else wants.

You lean back against your bed, breathing steady. Still processing the way she looked at you—like you were something precious she deserved, planned to claim. Like she knew the gifts did partly for you, and partly for her getting to see you in them. It was rare to meet a sugar parent concerned more with spoiling than the affection that came with it. It's a nice change of pace you finally feel like you can keep up with. And then—your doorbell rings.

You pause.

It’s nearly 11PM.

You’re not expecting anyone.

Cautious, you approach the door and peek through the window. Sitting neatly on your doorstep is a tall white box. Elegant. Weighted. Tied with a wide black satin ribbon. There’s a card tucked into the bow. Handwritten.

For you.

No logo. No return address.

But you already know who it’s from.

You bring it inside, heart pounding with something warmer than surprise. You place it on your bed, fingers slow and deliberate as you untie the ribbon—like the act deserves patience.

The scent hits you first.

Vanilla. Lavender. Rose. Something headier and darker underneath. It smells like a boutique where everything costs too much and nothing feels cheap. It smells like her.

Inside is a bouquet—lush and decadent. Pale petals layered with deep, moody blooms. You can see the thought behind it. A study in contrast. Soft meeting sharp.

And nestled beneath the flowers—an envelope.

Your name. Her handwriting.

You open it.

Inside, a small black card. Thick paper. Gold print. Simple.

You read.

You were even better than I imagined.

I said I don’t have a spending limit.

That wasn’t just about clothes.

I meant time.

Attention.

Energy.

www.elysianthread.com — it’s one of my favorites.

I want to see you in every damn thing they make.

Pick out whatever you want.

Make a cart.

Send it to me.

There’s nothing I wouldn’t want to see you in.

— R

Your breath catches.

Not from shock.

But you weren't expecting it within an hour of leaving her.

You set the card down next to her Humber on your nightstand, bite your bottom lip, and open your laptop. The website pulls up in seconds. It’s stunning—sleek black background, gold lettering, photography shot like fashion editorials and forbidden dreams.

Silk slips. Structured corsets. Soft lounge sets. Delicate chokers.

Luxury lingerie that feels like armor and worship in the same breath.

And you’re not blushing— well maybe a little.

You’re smiling.

You lean into the screen, scrolling slowly. Imagining the weight of the gaze you'd spent hours across for earlier and what would change it, make it lighter, heavier, needier. You find yourself more excited adding pieces in dark tones than your usual pastel palette, pieces feeling closer to the woman buying them for you. You select pieces like statements. Like spells.

Slips in oxblood silk.

Loungewear that looks soft enough to drown in.

A gold anklet with a black charm you swear could pass for her energy in accessory form.

When the cart’s sizable, you copy the link. Open her message thread.

included a lot to pick from

you don’t have to—

You pause. Delete the second line.

You don’t need to soften it.

You don’t need to ask for less.

She invited this.

She wanted you.

You send the link.

Two minutes later, her reply hits.

Rhea:

Sweetheart.

You really think I’m picking one?

—

To be continued— likes, comments and reblogs always appreciated💜

—

Taglist- let me know if you’d like to be added

@starrycherie

@oldmanluvr13

195 notes · View notes

wcnderlnds · 4 days ago

Text

lay all your love on me ★ choi seung-hyun (t.o.p)

BIGBANG APRIL CHALLENGE - APRIL 17TH

・❥・ summary: seunghyun meets you on vacation and can’t get enough of you ・❥・word count: 2.4k ・❥・warnings: 18+. mdni. unprotected p in v. kinda public sex but not really because it’s secluded. seunghyun a little submissive at one point. swearing. ・❥・authors note: this was supposed to be posted on the 17th for the challenge but life happened but it’s here now. sorry for the delay! even tho it sucks but enjoy 💕

Bali was one of the most beautiful places on Earth. Everywhere you looked there was always something incredible to lay your eyes on. From the white sandy beaches to the lush greenery – it was an artist’s dream. It could give anyone inspiration. It was the perfect place to escape and rejuvenate. If you needed a place to get away and heal your mind then Bali was it. Life could really suck sometimes but a little vacation to help clear your mind was the perfect medicine sometimes.

It was exactly what Seunghyun needed.

Things hadn’t been great for him lately, he had needed to get out of Seoul for a little bit. He loved his home city, he really did but the media there had been so cruel to him, he needed out. The more he thought about it, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a proper vacation. For so long anonymity had been something foreign to him. Most people knew his name, they often knew more about him than he did himself. Now, though, people rarely spotted him out and about. Maybe that had something to do with the fact he’d hidden himself away for years and years thinking that was the best way to help himself. It wasn’t. But, this vacation? Yeah, it helped a lot. Another thing that helped was meeting you.

Seunghyun had met you on his third day in Bali. It had been a cliche if he’d ever seen one. He had been walking on the beach, you’d been playing volleyball with a couple of friends when you’d back up and walked straight into him. He’d wrapped his arm around your waist to steady you, hands splaying across the skin of your stomach. There had been a moment when before you’d spun around to chew him out for putting his hands on you but when you saw his face and met those gorgeous brown eyes of his, you were putty in his hands. The volleyball game had been forgotten about. An apology from him, a flirty remark from you and the two of you couldn’t get enough of each other.

The days after that had been spent tangled in the sheets together, Seunghyun exploring every inch of your body, memorising every contour and curve. He couldn’t get enough of you and it was the same for you. Never had you been so captivated by a person before. Everything he did, every word he spoke to you made your head spin and your heart pound against your ribcage.

There had been a few days where he’d taken you out, wined and dined you and showed you that not all men were trash. Everything he did was so genuine, so sweet. He was always considerate of your feelings, going out of his way to make sure that you were okay. Nights might have been spent exploring each other's bodies but afterwards you’d talk. Seunghyun had told you so many of his secrets – ones that not even his closest friends knew but for some reason he found it easier to talk to you. You gave him comfort, a sense of safety that he hadn’t had or felt in a very long time.

It was one of your final nights in Bali so Seunghyun had decided he wanted to take you out to the beach at sunset. It was cheesy, it was corny but he wanted to experience one sunset with you in his arms. If this was all you ever had together, he wanted to make sure it was something he could remember.

“Come on, one more step,” he chuckled, holding his hand out to lead you down the last step leading to Kelingking beach. It was a nice secluded beach surrounded by cliffs, the blue ocean glistening in the moonlight.

You took his hand, hopping down the last step into the grainy confines of the sand. “Can’t believe you made me walk down all those damn stairs.”

“It wasn’t a picnic for me either, princess.”

“You’re lucky you’re handsome.”

You skipped away from him, Seunghyun following you with a laugh and a pep in his step as he watched you happily dance across the sand. The view was beautiful but you were the real view here. You were breathtakingly beautiful to him. Finding a nice spot on the beach, close enough to the water but not enough to get splashed, he laid out a blanket and a cooler which he’d put a bottle of TSpot wine in for you both.

Sitting down next to him, you watched as he popped the bottle, pouring the wine into glasses for you both. The sound of the waves crashing on the cliffs echoed in the background, birds flying above you in the sky singing their songs setting one of the most romantic atmospheres you’d ever witnessed. No man had ever treated you like Seunghyun had in the very short amount of time you’d known him.

“To… Bali for bringing you to me,” Seunghyun smiled one of his dazzling smiles as he raised his glass.

You tapped yours against his in cheers, smiling softly. “To Bali for bringing me the most incredible man I’ve ever known.”

Seunghyun blushed. Actually blushed. Of course, he had to brush it off, playfully rolling his eyes at you. “Keep talking like that and maybe I’ll find your T-Spot later.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at his terrible joke. “Is that a promise?”

“Play your cards right, princess, and who knows.”

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

The night passed by in a blur of conversation and laughter; too lost in each other to care about anything else. Two glasses of wine later and there you were lazily making out, you straddling Seunghyun’s lap, his arms around your waist as your lips moved together slowly. His tongue traced the seam of your lips begging for entrance. Obligingly, you part your lips, his tongue meeting yours in a sensual dance. There was nothing rushed about it, he was taking his time as if he was committing this moment to memory. His hands slid down to your ass, giving it a slight squeeze which caused you to giggle. You pulled back, Seunghyun chasing your lips as if he didn’t want you to pull away. Luckily, you’d only moved so you could pull the knitted swimsuit coverup you were wearing off and over your head to leave you clad in nothing but your bikini. Seunghyun let out an audible groan, his hands sliding up your sides, his fingers leaving goosebumps in their wake.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” his eyes roamed over you hungrily.

“Shutup.” It was your turn to roll your eyes playfully at him now.

“Make me,” he challenged, his lips turning up in a smirk.

No more words were spoken as you leaned back in, lips pressing against his hungrily this time. It was all tongue and teeth, all the passion that had been building up all night finally finding it’s release. Your hands tugged at the hem of his shirt, immediately he got the message pulling away for a second to tug his shirt off and into the sand. His hand tangled in your hair, pulling you back to him. The sweet, sensual kisses from earlier were long gone now. Only one thought on both of your minds.

You began to grind your hips against his, electing another one of those beautiful groans from his throat. His hands slid down to grip your thighs, his thumbs digging into your skin as he pulled you firmer against him, guiding your hips against his growing bulge. Knowing that the only thing between you were the thin fabric of your bikini bottoms and his swim shorts was driving him crazy. He wanted you so badly.

“Fuck, baby, I need you,” his voice was a deep, low rasp against the column of your neck. His lips pressing open mouthed kisses along the skin, his teeth sinking down for a moment before his tongue came darting out to ease the sting. Seunghyun loved marking you — that was something you’d learned early on. You didn’t mind, it was kind of hot that he wanted to claim you in such a way.

“I need you, too,” you breathed. The palm of your head rested on his chest as you pushed him to lay back. “Let me take care of you, baby.”

Your lips trailed from his collarbone all the way down his stomach to the waistband of his shorts. It was with quick work you pulled them down, freeing his already hard length. He hissed as the breeze hit his bare skin, propping himself up on his elbow to watch. You took him in your hand, wrapping it around his cock and pumping him slowly. Precum leaked from the tip and, unable to resist, you darted your tongue out against the sensitive head to taste him. Involuntarily, his hips bucked up. He was already so hard, he wouldn’t be able to last if you decided to wrap your lips around him. So, you decided to spare him. You sat back up, fingers delving between your legs to pull your bikini bottoms to the side. As you slid your own fingers between your folds, Seunghyun watched, eyes dark with desire as your slick coated your fingers. It was greedily, aching to get a taste of you, that he sat up, grabbing your hand and putting your fingers in his mouth. His eyes remained solely on yours as his tongue swirled around your digits, liking you clean. It made your thighs clench with want, needing to feel him inside you.

“Back down,” you commanded, once against pushing him back to lay down. “Behave.”

The authoritative tone to your voice made his cock twitch, aching to be buried deep inside you. But, you wanted to tease him a little more. You grinded against him once again, your slick folds running along his length. Seunghyun’s bottom lip was between his teeth as he fought the urge to thrust up into you.

“Baby, please. Take what you need. Ride me like you mean it,” he urged, his hands finding their place on your hips once again. The head of his cock nudged against your entrance, causing a breathy gasp to slip past your lips.

You couldn’t take it anymore. Between his begging and the feeling of him right there, you decided to put you both out of your misery. You grabbed him at the base of his cock, lifting yourself up and positioning over him. Slowly, you sank down onto him taking him inch by inch until he was fully inside you. Seunghyun’s eyes fluttered closed, his head thrown back as he revelled in the amazing feeling of being enveloped by you. It took a moment as you adjusted to the feeling of him so deep inside you. Your hands rested on the planes of his chest, his tanned skin soft between your fingers. Seunghyun opened his eyes and his breath hitched in his throat at the sight of you. The way the moonlight bounced off your face, your chest rising and falling as you lifted your hips up then slammed them back down — it was the most beautiful sight he’d ever seen. Whatever he did in his life to deserve this, to deserve you, he was thanking his lucky stars.

He rolled his hips up to meet yours, his fingers digging into your skin hard enough to leave bruises as he guided you on his length. “Just like that, princess. Take what you need, use me. I’m yours.”

You audibly moaned at that, bouncing hard on his throbbing cock. Seunghyun met you thrust for thrust, his fingers dancing up your sides to cup the swell of your breast. He couldn’t take his eyes off them as they bounced with your movements. He yanked your bikini top down, his mouth latching on to one of your nipples. His tongue swirled around the hardened bud, suckling lightly. Your fingers threaded through his dark locks, your moans echoing in his ears.

“Fuck, Seunghyun,” you whimpered as he thrust up into that spot inside you that made you see stars. “Don’t stop, please.”

“You feel so good, baby. Taking me so well,” he praised, his lips finding yours in a heated kiss. In one fell swoop, he wrapped an arm around your back, moving you around so he was on top now. Seunghyun positioned your legs over his shoulders so he could take you deeper, his thrusts hard and fast as he neared his release. “Come for me, princess. I know you’re close, I can feel it. Touch yourself for me.”

Your moans were swallowed by his lips as his tongue slipped into your mouth, tangling with yours. Obeying him almost instantly, your fingers found your clit, circling it in tight, fast circles. Seunghyun pulled back from your lips, his eyes glancing down to where your bodies were joined. It was an almost growl that tore from him at the sight of watching himself disappear in and out of you and your own fingers touching yourself.

His thrusts grew erratic, harder as he neared his peak. He could feel your walls tightening around him, a telltale sign that you were close. It was one particularly hard thrust that sent you over the edge with his name falling from your lips, your body losing itself in the pleasure consuming you. Seunghyun fucked you through it, his own release was so close.

“Fuck, so good for me,” he panted, his voice a low gruff. Seeing your face flushed, your lips kiss swollen, it sent him over the edge. “Ah, fuck, I’m coming, baby.”

He slammed into you, pushing himself to the hilt. A loud moan of your name from his lips as he emptied himself inside you. He rocked his hips, prolonging the pleasure until he couldn’t take it anymore. Your legs fell from his shoulders as he collapsed on top of you. His lips peppered your neck and face with sloppy kisses, eventually finding your lips once more. “You’re amazing.”

He kissed you softly, slowly, almost as if it was the last. Eventually, he pulled out of you and, being the gentleman he was, he made sure to put your bikini bottoms back in place. As you lay there, panting to get your breath back, you watched Seunghyun with hooded eyes as he picked up his shorts. His hands wiped furiously at his body, grumbling.

“Got sand fucking everywhere,” he huffed as he ruffled his hair to get it out. “I think I even got it in my ass. How?”

It was your giggle that made him look up, the annoyance immediately gone from his face as he saw you there looking serene. The bright smile on your face, the breathy giggles erupting from you? Yeah, he couldn’t give a shit about sand anymore. As long as you were happy, it was worth it.

challenge taglist: @ldydeath @infinetlyforgotten @loveesiren @sevendaysummer @gdinthehouseee @eru-vande @bluesunss @emmiesoverthemoon @petersasteria @currentloser @makeitworse @berfgrimm @aizshallnotbefound @sherxoo

normal taglist: @sherrayyyyy @justsisse @fleabagspurplewife @gemzyy @bettelaboure @breakmeoff @flymetothexmoon

#choi seunghyun x reader #t.o.p x reader #choi seunghyun #choi seunghyun smut #bigbang x reader #bigbangaprilchallenge

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kakuvibez · 18 days ago

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I love your twst x eah. I would love to see Briar Beauty!reader x Diasomnia

⏜︵yandere one shot/quotes/ hcs ━ Diasomniaও　𓈒

𐂯 . requested by ; anonymous/ @user / none,, 　𓈒

𓏵 . fandom(s) ; Ever After High, Twisted Wonderland　𓈒

𐂯 . fandom master list(s): master | specific　𓈒

𓏵 . character(s); Silver, Lilia Vanrouge, Malleus Draconia, Sebek Zigvolt　𓈒

. 𐂯 outline; " ก₍⸍⸌̣ʷ̣̫⸍̣⸌₎ค"　𓈒

︵︵ warning(s) ; Yandere behavior, obsession, stalking, isolation, unhealthy relationships, delusional love, manipulation, dark themes, toxic affection.　𓈒

You weren’t sure why you were placed in Diasomnia, of all places.

It was cold, dark, and far too brooding for your taste.

But the dorm’s strange ambiance had its perks—quiet halls, soft moss beds, candlelit rooms, and long, dreamless naps. The perfect place to catch some Z’s. And no one could fault you for being drowsy all the time; it was just… in your blood.

“You know, if I’m doomed to sleep a century, might as well stock up now,” you once yawned.

But Diasomnia didn’t take well to, sleepy, strangers.

Especially when that stranger was you.

Because from the moment you arrived, they couldn’t take their eyes off you.

"You sleep so peacefully… it’s almost unfair to the world when you’re awake."

Malleus was captivated by you.

You were beautiful—there was no denying that—but more than that, you were mysterious. Cursed. Chosen by fate to sleep for a hundred years, like something out of a tale even he found ancient.

You called him “Spikes” once, teasing him after a nap when you found him watching over you.

He’d smiled then, touched by the nickname.

And ever since, he made it his mission to be the prince who would never leave your side.

"Should the curse take you… I will be the one to break it."

Malleus brought you flowers of thorns, trinkets from the Valley of Thorns, and enchanted candles to help you sleep easier. Or so he claimed.

But the truth?

He wanted you asleep.

You were sweetest when you were drowsy. Soft. Vulnerable. Dependent.

And when you slept, you dreamed of him. He made sure of that.

"Back in my day, we’d fight wars, raise nations, and fall in love—all before breakfast. You, though? You’re still in bed."

Lilia found you endlessly entertaining.

The way you mumbled in your sleep, how you curled up in blankets, how you blinked blearily at him when he woke you with a gentle poke to your cheek.

He started off playful, teasing you for your naps and lazy nature.

But something changed when he saw Malleus watching you too closely.

He wanted your attention—all of it.

So he began doting. Bringing you tea laced with herbs to “help with your dreams.” Reading you bedtime stories with soft, coaxing voices that lulled you into sleep.

And sometimes?

He sang lullabies that kept you under longer than you realized.

"I’ve been around for eons, little beauty. You’re the first one I’ve ever wanted to keep dreaming forever."

"You're always so tired... Is it the curse, or are you just avoiding us?"

At first, Silver understood you better than anyone. After all, he had his own trouble staying awake.

You were like a kindred spirit.

But then… he started staying awake more. Watching over you while you slept. Guarding your door. Making sure no one bothered you—no one.

Especially not strangers who didn’t belong in Diasomnia.

He started to dream about you, too. You, laughing. You, twirling in his arms. You, whispering his name with sleepy adoration.

And when you woke up and greeted him with that soft little, “Morning, Silver…”?

It was the only thing that kept him sane.

"You’re safest with me. Sleep all you want—I’ll be here. Always."

Even if he had to chain your door shut.

"You lazy, good-for-nothing human!! How dare you waste Lord Malleus’s time with your naps?!"

Sebek was furious.

How dare a fragile, weak, sleepy human draw the attention of the Crown Prince?!

But no matter how much he yelled, how much he protested, you never stopped smiling at him sleepily, eyes half-lidded as you said—

“Hey, Sebek. You’re loud. I like it. It helps me stay awake.”

That ruined him.

From that moment on, he couldn't leave you alone.

He yelled because he cared. Because you were reckless. Sleeping in the garden where you could catch a cold. Napping in the library where someone could hurt you.

"You must remain alert! If you fall into the cursed sleep again—if you leave us—"

He stopped, eyes wide, heart pounding.

He didn’t want to think about a world without you.

"You belong here. You belong with Lord Malleus. With us. And if I must shout until my voice is hoarse to keep you with us, then I will!"

But then… you fell asleep.

Not just a nap this time.

It was your curse.

A hundred-year slumber. Deep, unshakable, and impossible to wake.

Malleus tried every spell he knew. Lilia whispered ancient incantations from forgotten lands. Silver wept silently at your bedside. Sebek screamed until his voice broke.

You wouldn’t wake.

So they made a decision.

If you couldn’t be awake in their world—

Then they would join you in your dreams.

Malleus built you a throne of thorns, deep in the palace of your dreams.

Lilia stood beside you, guarding your unconscious form with wicked eyes and a dagger behind his back.

Silver slept beside you, hand in yours, tethering his dreams to yours night after night.

Sebek stood at the gates, letting no one through. Not even death.

And in this cursed dreamworld, where you slept for eternity—

You were never alone.

"You’ll never leave us again, Name," Malleus murmured, as your eyelids fluttered in sleep. "Not in this life… not in the next."

#x reader #yandere #yandere x reader #twst wonderland #yandere twisted wonderland #ever after high reader #gender neutral reader #ever after high #kakuvibez #gn reader #yandere diasomnia dorm x reader #yandere diasomnia dorm #yandere diasomnia x reader #yandere diasomnia #sliver #lilia vanrouge #malleus draconia #sebek zigvolt

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hischiershoe · 2 months ago

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Anonymous asked: The 'just friends' kiss that they have to do as a dare but they both like it and can't stop thinking about it <- with Nico

Note: I accidentally posted this before it was finished, but it was for blurb day so here ya go Warnings: drinking mentioned, kissing, cursing, grown adults playing a college game thanks to luke, very very sloppy ending.

It was mid-March, the air growing warmer, the sun glowing brighter, and the drinks getting colder. With spring finally gracing the likes of New Jersey, a few of the guys decided that it would be a good idea to book out the rooftop pool at one of their buildings and have a small get together. They always included a few of their other friends, which, of course, meant Nico inviting you like he always does, and that was exactly how you ended up laying out beside the pool as music filtered around you.

"So," Laney calls out, her hand gently slapping your bicep as she peers at you over her glasses, "You and Nico seal the deal yet?"

"Laney," You quietly gasp, propping yourself up, "There is no deal to seal. I told you that. We're just friends."

"Friends do not look at each other like that," Aly speaks up without lifting her head, her voice teasing and light as she settles further into her chair.

"Plus, I haven't seen Nico so much as look at a girl all season. There's got to be a reason for that," Laney plainly states, "And we all know that you haven't really been in the dating pool, either."

Your mouth drops open, partly in shock, and partly to deny their blatant, yet not entirely wrong, accusations, but a familiar voice smothers your chances by calling your name. Your gaze snaps to Nico, settling on where he stands in the middle of the guys with a bright smile on his face as he waves you over. You can hear the faint sounds of Laney and Aly's respective partners shouting for them, but you pay them no mind as you hastily rise to your feet and make your way to Nico.

"What's up," You breathe out, crossing your arms against your chest now that you were standing right in front of him.

"Some of the younger guys want to play some card game," He informs, smoothly slinging his arm over your shoulder and dragging you to the make shift circle around the table, "Luke said he learned it at school."

"Oh, that isn't terrifying at all," You laugh, ignoring the various sets of eyes that were giving you and Nico knowing looks.

Luke explained the rules of the game, with the help of Jack who had to butt in every so often to clarify something, and it was most definitely the kind of game that was played at frat parties. You missed the name of it, only half paying attention to the beginning because you were too focused on the way Nico's thigh was pressed against you, but you understood most of what was said. A few of the older guys tried getting out of it, playing the 'I'm too old for this' card, but they were swiftly denied.

Once the game was in full swing, you had already gotten a little tipsy from the various cards that called for you to drink, and it didn't help that the heat from the sun was already warming your body. It was making it easier for the alcohol to slip into your bloodstream and make your mind hazy, and Nico's fingers brush the top of your spine every so often was already doing an excellent job at that.

"Okay," You lean forward, fingers grasping the card on the top of the deck, "It's a seven. What does that mean again?"

Your eyes dart around the group of people, some of them sporting curious looks, and others wearing smug smirks on their faces.

Jack is the one to lean forward, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he says, "Seven is seventh heaven. Everyone does it differently, but we do spin the bottle and whoever it lands on, gets a smooch. On the lips, the cheek, the forehead, Whatever. Obviously, if it lands on someone married or something, you'd spin again."

"If you say no, you lose and you have to drink the cup," Luke gently reminds, earning a pointed look from you that sends him back into his seat.

Your eyes settle on the plastic cup in the middle of the table, contemplating downing the terrible concoction of beers, liquors, and wine coolers instead of participating in spin the freaking bottle like a horny teenager. After a few beats pass, you let out a dramatic sigh and call out for someone to hand you an empty bottle. The contents of that cup have to be horrendous, but you had zero intention in finding out just how horrendous.

You briefly let your stare fall on Nico only to find that he was already looking at you, his eyes careful and yielding in a way that made heat rush to your cheeks. Quickly turning away, you grasp the base of the bottle and let it spin, swallowing thickly as you watch it turn and turn until it begins to slow. Everyone's holding their breath as they watch it come to a stop, their eyes following the neck until they see just who is on the other end.

"No way," You hear one of the girls mumble under their breath.

"Oh boy," Stefan whistles over the blood pounding in your ears.

You can feel Nico lean forward, matching your position as you stay frozen in your spot with your gaze fixed on the bottle. Out of everyone the bottle could've landed on, it just had to be the one guy you'd thought about kissing far more times than you could count. You'd hope it would land on Laney or Aly or someone you could just peck on the cheek without another passing thought, but of course, fate had other ideas for you.

"Hey," Nico softly says, gently knocking his knee against yours, "You okay?"

You let out a nervous hum as you slide your focus to him, your heart pounding in your chest, "Yeah, I'm good. I just—”

"Okay, you two," Timo loudly cuts in before Nico can say anything else, a wide and obnoxious smile on his face, "Get to it."

“You heard Jack,” Nico carefully reminds, clearing his throat as he tries to keep his voice quiet and even, “It doesn’t have to be on the lips or anything.” Though he really really wanted it to be.

“Yeah,” You anxiously let out, your throat drying as you run your palms against your thighs, “But I have a feeling they’ll just make up another rule and say we have to do it over again.”

“That’s true,” You hear someone speak up from beside you, but neither you or Nico turn away from each other to see who it was.

Nico's eyes are unwavering, staying trained on your face as he watches a multitude of emotions flash in your eyes. He can see hesitancy written on your face, or maybe it's nerves, he can't really tell, but he doesn't have much time to dwell on it before you're surging forward and planting your lips on his.

It was quick, too quick if you asked Nico, nothing but a simple and chaste peck on the lips before you were retreating back to sink into your seat. You crossed your arms against your chest, avoiding looking at the others and ignoring their incomprehensible murmurs. You felt a little silly, getting so worked up and embarrassed over a game, but you’d spent the last few years wondering what it would be like to kiss Nico, and this wasn’t exactly what you’d had in mind.

You barely paid attention for the rest of the game, constantly letting your mind drift back to the feeling of Nico's lips on yours. Even if you only felt it for a fraction of a minute, it still left a lingering tingle that had you desperate for more. You could feel his stare on you more often than not, but you didn't dare to look in his direction. Not until you'd had enough time to calm down.

When the game was over and everyone dispersed, you were quick to slip out of your chair and put as much distance between you and Nico as possible. You weren't ready to hear whatever it was he had to say, and you definitely weren't ready to fae the possibility that he would say the one thing you knew would make you want to throw up.

'It didn't mean anything'.

"Slow down," Laney huffs from behind you, "You're not supposed to run by pools!"

"I'm not running," You toss over your shoulder as you come to a stop.

"The pinch in my side begs to differ," She argues, dramatically grabbing your shoulder as she tries to catch her breath, "I need to start doing cardio again, holy shit."

You playfully roll your eyes as you carefully tug her down onto the lounger, "Just don't drag me into that with you."

"Oh, I will," She wheezes before she straightens her back and turns to look at you, "Now, let's discuss what happened."

"What do you mean," You feign confusion, not meeting her eyes as you focus on fixing the straps of your bathing suit.

"Don't play stupid," She groans, "You kissed Nico! Finally!"

"Oh my god, keep your voice down," You hiss, glancing around to make sure no one heard her small outburst, "It was hardly a kiss, and it was just for a game."

Laney gives you a pointed look, her brows raised and lips pressed together in a flat line. She could see right through you, and you knew that she could. No matter how hard you tried to brush off or deny something, she could always tell when you we're lying to her, and to herself.

"If it was 'just for the game', then why'd you run away from him," She carefully presses.

"Because," You weakly shrug, casting your focus to your lap, "I don't know, Laney. It's embarrassing."

"Why," She tries as she places her hand on your knee to pull your attention to her, "You should've seen his face when you pulled away! I'm honestly surprised that he didn't drag you away and suck your face off then and there. And, I don't know if you've noticed, but he hasn't stopped looking at you since the game ended."

Before you can stop yourself, your eyes dart around the rooftop until they land on Nico, and she was right. He was already looking at you. Even from the other end, you could see the way his eyes softened when you met his stare. The corner of his lips were tugged upwards into a small, one you returned without a second thought.

"If he says something to me first, I'll talk to him about it," You force your gaze back to her, "Best I can do."

Nico doesn't end up saying anything to you about the kiss the rest of the day, and, if you were being honest, it got to you. While you hadn't stopped thinking about it, thinking about how it must feel to really kiss him, he seemingly had brushed it off like it was nothing. When you retreated back to your own apartment later that night, you were grateful that you could finally have a moment to yourself so that you could spiral.

You had just finished slipping on your pajamas when you heard the sounds of someone knocking on your door. You tried to rack your brain of potential visitors as your feet pad against the cool floor, but no one in particular came to mind. Though taking a quick look into the peephole nearly made you stumble backwards.

“Nico,” You call out in confusion as you pull the door open, “Is everything okay?”

“Can I come in,” He counters your question with one of his own.

“Uh, yeah, okay,” You mumble, moving away from the doorway so he could slip inside.

He’s still wearing his swimming trunks and damp t-shirt from earlier, his hair a mess on his head like he’d spent a few hours running his hands through it. His cheeks and nose were slightly tinged pink from the sun beating down, and you knew it was because he didn’t put sunscreen on his face. Nico always forget to do that.

“Nico,” You repeat his name, taking a careful step closer to him, “What’s going on?”

“I can’t stop thinking about it,” He rushes out, fully turning his body towards you. He was only a few inches away from you, so close that you could still smell the chlorine on him.

“Thinking about what,” You shakily ask as you cross your arms against your chest. You had a feeling as to what he was going to say, because you hadn’t stop thinking about it either, but you needed to hear him say it.

“That stupid game Luke made us play,” He scoffs, though there’s no malice in it, “Kissing you. It was only for a second but I can’t stop thinking about it. I can’t stop thinking about what it would feel like to get to really kiss you.”

Nico’s focus never falters from your face, his gaze piercing and pleading as he watches your eyes widen in surprise. Your breathing becomes even unsteadier than it was before, your heart pounding in your chest so loudly you’d be surprised if Nico couldn’t hear it. You were trying to wrap your head around his worlds, trying to convince yourself that it was real and not a dream you’d had several times over the last few years.

Your silence was making Nico nervous, forcing thoughts of regret to filter their way in his mind because maybe he’d made a mistake, but they disappeared when you placed a delicate hand on his chest. His muscles tensed under your touch, his body shuddering as you slid your hand up to his shoulder, to his neck until you were holding his jaw in your hands. You’re not entirely sure where your sudden brazenness came from, but you were taking it in stride and using it to your advantage.

“I haven’t stopped thinking about it either,” You reveal, your thumb brushing against the coarseness of his overgrown stubble, “Honestly, I think about what it would be like all the time.”

“Why don’t we find out then,” He lowly asks, his eyes darting to your lips as your tongue slides across them.

When your lips connect with his all over again, it was unlike anything you’d ever experienced before. Kissing Nico felt like you were floating above the clouds, you felt weightless and the only the thing keeping you grounded to the earth was his touch. It made you wonder why you’d ever bothered kissing anyone else before because none of them even came close to him.

#nico hischier #nico hischier x reader #nico hischier blurb #nico hischier imagine #nico hischier fic #abby writes 💻

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