#he's stupid i love him ur honor

[barghest-land]

i can hear him saying that and it doesn't sound convincing at all

[ilynpilled]

jaime turning women down constantly more bc he is very monogamous and in love with someone else right now for the first time and is also kinda scared of actually having sex with someone other than cersei is sm better to me than “i respect the kg vows of chastity so intensely rn actually because i changed into a good and serious person” or whatever lol

[theborzoiarebackintown]

butt stickers are alllll the rage in borzoi fashion these days

[zyafics]

HIII!!! I love ur writing sm <3 If you're taking requests, I was wondering if you could do one about a reporter reader who used to date Rafe but they broke up and now she has to interview him??? Set in college if possible! Thank you so much! I hope you're having a good day 🥰

hi baby! yes, i do take requests and i absolutely love this one 🥰 i made reader work for a network company but she's still in college and he plays basketball! (but fair warning, i know absolutely nothing about basketball so if i got the terminologies wrong, look away!!) i hope you enjoy <3 this is angsty as fuck

ALL FOR THE GAME | Rafe Cameron

MASTERLIST (Oneshot) | College Basketball Player x Ex!Reporter!Female Reader .ᐟ

Content — college au, athlete/reporter, prior breakup, heavy angst, hurt/no comfort

Word Count — 4.2K

You couldn't believe it.

It's considered lucky. For someone in your position—having received this entry-level job a couple of weeks ago—to have the opportunity to interview an athlete. In fact, many people would call it a great honor.

And it is. Under normal circumstances, you would be more than happy to oblige—elated, even—because people at this stage in your career rarely get such an opening. Especially since you're in college, fully prepared for this internship to be nothing more than grunt work.

Yet, this? This would allow you to advance your career at an expedited rate only offered to nepotism. You should be thrilled, overcome with joy, jumping at your feet and thanking whatever deity you believed in for such a chance.

But you don't.

Because the person to interview is Rafe.

Rafe Cameron, the top prospect of the NBA draft picks.

Rafe Cameron, your ex-boyfriend.

Your boss waits for an answer. He proposed the question a few moments ago, about covering the press conference for the last game of the season. Because of a sick reporter who called out at the last minute, your objective is to build a profile on Rafe Cameron. Since he's the leading prospect, with scouts all over the country looking at him, many people want to know more about the rising all-star who's done nothing but dominate the court.

This proposal, however, was done more out of common courtesy. No one would be stupid enough to say no, and when your boss raises a brow, signifying his manifesting annoyance from your silence and lack of celebratory cheers—you stammer.

"Um, um," you say.

"Um, what?" He prompts. "Will you be doing it or not?"

You shouldn't. There are many reasons why you shouldn't attend Rafe's basketball games. There's resentment because when you step back into that arena, back onto that court, you're reminded of how Rafe picked it over you. There's lingering sadness, residing heavily against the back of your heart, dulled from the passage of time, but not completely forgotten. And lastly, there's anger, because sometimes, all you want to do is scream, cry, and yell at the man who shattered your heart into a billion different pieces.

But that doesn't matter, does it?

Romance has no place in a reporter's life because you're nothing more but a projection for the audience, a vessel for the readers to learn about something else. You don't have feelings; you're a prop. And, certainly, it doesn't matter to your boss, who's only asking you because you're the last choice.

"Well?"

Seconds away from retracting the offer, something in your chest tightens. Logically, you know the choice to make. But your heart doesn't agree. It still hurts, aches, and burns at all of the past memories. It wants nothing more than to bury itself in a hole and pretend that such a critical part of your history does not exist.

But you can't. Life only moves forward. So, all you do is move with it.

"I'll do it."

By the time you arrive at the stadium, all you want to do is run. Anxiety pricks at your spine and your palms grow clammy by your side. Everything inside you is blaring like a warning, cautioning that this is a mistake, that you aren't ready, and that you should turn back.

Despite the badge dangling around your neck, you almost listen. Put your career on hold for a man who hasn't given a single thought about you since the breakup. You can't let him win, and with that reminder, you move with the mob, flocking to their seats.

The atmosphere is charged with exhilaration, and you're reminded of everything before. It's automatic. How easy it is for you to return to old patterns, to follow them, and to find yourself trickling down the steps and towards the courtside seats reserved for family and friends of the team.

Until a hand is placed on your lower back, and a security guard guides you to the press box instead.

It's quieter. The enclosure of the room dulls the energy of the crowd, with a thick sheet of glass separating you from the rest of the people, and reminding you of your purpose.

You take a seat on a cushioned chair, reserved for your network, and look around the place. You're among the most seasoned reporters in their field, chatting with one another, familiarity engulfing the air that somewhat alienates you. They pay you little mind—saved for a curious-yet-judgmental glance at how you wore a jersey compared to their formal suits and pencil skirts. When you follow their line of vision, you realize it wasn't an ordinary merch of the UNC team but Rafe's.

"Fuck," you mumble. You hadn't realized you picked out his jersey; it was left in the back of your closet and you couldn't see yourself attending your college's game without a visual form of support. This probably appears to the rest of the journalists that you're nothing more than a superfan who managed to weasel their way into their network.

It makes your stomach flips with nausea. You want to separate Rafe from you as much as possible, and with a quick run to the bathroom, you change out of the merch and throw it over your tote, straightening out your blouse underneath. When you return, the players are slowly filling out to court.

The visitors' team enters first; UNC follows. You count each player that exits the locker room, watching their expressions as they grin and absorb the energy of their home stadium, as they walk down the length of the bench, as they talk among themselves and share playful jests and banter. You didn't even know you were holding your breath until Rafe stepped out last, to the loudest cheer of the crowd, with a solemn look on his face.

You watch as Rafe searches the stands. Not in the same manner as his teammates, where they're acknowledging fans, or sending flirtatious winks to pretty girls sitting front row. It's different— with purpose. He's searching for something—someone—and your heart clenches in your chest at the thought of Rafe having found your replacement.

But it's been months, hasn't it? It should be more than fair game for him to date whatever he wants. You can still act professionally with this developing news, but it's striking down at your armor.

However, whoever he's looking for, he doesn't find. Rafe goes to huddle with the rest of his team as their Coach gives a final motivational speech before releasing them.

The game starts with a tip-off, and once the referee throws the ball in the air, Rafe takes it into his possession.

He sprints across the court, slicing through the opponent players, and scoring points on the board. Rafe is powerful, knowing exactly when to exchange his hands and pass to his teammates, where exactly to cut through, and when to commit to a play. Commentary heard from the built-in speakers can attest to it, as their primary focus is on how Rafe is taking the last game of the season by storm.

But, while everyone's eyes are glued to the game, as much as you try not to, you can't do anything but stare at Rafe.

He's just as incredible as he was when you were dating him; if not, more. In some way, it makes your heart tighten, knowing that this validates his reason for the breakup. You just wish he felt some semblance of the pain you feel. But as much as you hate it, you're also proud. Rafe has come so far, and trained so hard, to make it to where he is. If he secures a win for the last game, it will be nothing but a guaranteed track to the NBA and luxuries and fame ahead.

All without you.

By the time the game ended, Rafe scored the last shot in a close game, delivering the end of the conference with a secured UNC victory. Everyone in the press box stands from their seats, heading to the media room where they'll be meeting a panel of UNC athletes for questions.

Yet, you linger. You step up to the glass, watching as the erupted cheers of the audience surround the entire stadium, much to the glee of the UNC team, while Rafe stands in the middle of the court for a few seconds, soaking everything in. His eyes pan across the bleachers again, in search for something, before his expression falls and he retreats to the locker room.

When you enter the room of journalists, you slip into a seat. It'll be a while before the players come shuffling in, and you take each second to rehearse and calm your nerves. In one hand, is a tape recorder, while the other is a notepad of the written questions you plan to ask.

UNC's Publicist steps out first to provide an official statement and give a brief overview of the conduct of this press conference. She'll be the moderator, giving everyone enough time to ask all of their questions, and she'll be selecting the networks to her own accord. After everyone comes to the general consensus, the door opens and the Coach steps out with his players.

You watch with bated breath as Rafe is the last to enter, freshly showered and changed into grey sweatpants with a matching UNC zip-up jacket. His headphones dangles around his neck, while his expression exudes nothing but boredom and reluctance. Rafe has always hated interviews, especially post-games, during your relationship. At least that's the one thing that hasn't changed.

You drop your gaze to your lap, swallowing hard as you calm your racing heartbeat. It's been months, yet you still feel the same emotions coursing through you as if no time has passed—longing, hurt, sadness. You whisper positive affirmations, reminding yourself that it's just a job, and that'll be short and simple. You won't even have to speak to Rafe, because your boss may have said to find out more about Rafe Cameron for your profile, nowhere did he say you have to ask him specifically.

When Rafe sits on his chair, he lazily scans the room, a habit of his to pass the time, before he spots you among the crowd. In the third row, second seat; your favorite choice to sit. You don't see it, but a corner smile lifts to his face, demeanor changing, and he straightens up in his seat.

Throughout the conference, the publicist hands the microphone off to whoever she selects. They often direct their questions at Rafe, to which he gives monosyllabic and deadpanned answers. Then, when they try to seek more clarification, Rafe gives them nothing, much to their grimness.

You keep your head low, writing down notes, and drawing doodles on the edge of your notepad. Anything to avoid making accidental eye contact with Rafe. But, regardless, you feel him. The heat of his stare remains on you the entire time, especially when the publicist approach you and hands you the microphone.

It’s time.

With trembling hands, you stand from your seat. You turn your attention to the front of the panel, introducing yourself, your network, and your job. Smiles spread across Rafe's teammates as they recognize you, and you offer a polite one of your own.

Beginning at the furthest player at the end of the table, you ask, "How would you describe Mr. Cameron as a teammate?"

He grins as if he was prepared for this. "Rafe's an incredible teammate and captain. He's a capable leader, who's strong on the court, but also strong on having his teammates' back. You saw it back there—" That earns a small laugh from the reporters. "But, yeah. Rafe's one of my favorite teammates, if I'm being honest."

You tilt your head at that conclusion, because, if you remember correctly, in freshman year, he often rivaled with Rafe and got into fights over minor things. Regardless, you nod, thanking him for his response, and moving on to the next player with the next question.

"What do you think about Mr. Cameron's plays throughout the season?"

"Is that all you got for me, Mrs?" The second player teases playfully, causing heat to warm your cheeks. "Whatever, I got this. Well, let me think. Rafe's always had solid stats. He's one of the hardest-working players on and off the court, and he always keeps his head focused. Even when he had a bit of a bump a couple of months back, he adjusted his plays and bounced back. That’s his resilience."

Your breath hitches at the implication. You try your hardest not to sneak a glance at Rafe, but you can't help yourself. Turning to your side, you discover Rafe watching you, his expression grimacing at the confession of his teammate.

Months ago. The only thing that changed was your breakup. Does this mean he was as affected as you were?

You try not to think too much about that. Thanking the player again, you move to the next, asking more about Rafe's character—his prospects for the NBA, and his experience managing a student-athlete. You didn't ask just about Rafe, you asked about the games and conferences too, but most of the players always return their answers to Rafe. Positively. As if they had this unspoken agreement behind the scenes to hype Rafe up to his ex-girlfriend.

Time goes on, and you start to immerse yourself in the role. It wasn't as difficult as you expected, especially because you're entertaining a team who've known you all throughout their collegiate career. They answered the questions with enthusiasm and a playfulness that can only be recognized by years of familiarity. You can feel the energy from the reporters shift, stewed with envy, because of how the players are showing favoritism to a novice reporter who barely has her foot in the door.

Rafe watches you the entire time. How truly riveting you are in your role. How you command the room with your questions, how you captivate the players, and how you grow more comfortable as you talk to your teammates. He waits patiently as you make your way down the table, for his chance to talk to you.

But just as he's about to be next, you return the microphone to the moderator. You were going to leave him hanging. Before you can fully hand off the mic, a voice commands the room.

"What about me?"

It was Rafe. You lift your head to find him leaning against his own microphone propped on the table, his blue eyes pinned on you, his expression full of want. Your lips part, but no words fall through. The publicist doesn't take back the microphone.

You stammer. "What about you?"

"Don't you have any questions for me?" He questions, as the crowd murmurs with surprise. On any other day, Rafe would've gladly taken the lack of questions aimed at his face. You've done your research; you've seen his previous interviews.

"I..." You can't seem to answer him. All eyes—from the Coach, to the players (who are smiling their head off), to the reporters—turn to you. "I've asked all my questions."

"I'm sure you can think of one more," he declares, his eyes not once straying from your face. As if he's taking the time to memorize all of your features, to absorb any changes. "Come on, hit me."

Everyone waits. Eagerly. With jealousy. The media room stills with a palpable silence, and you can't do anything but retract your arm, holding the microphone back up to your lips.

You blink, racking your brain for any questions. You truly did ask all of them, and there's nothing appropriate enough to ask in front of a room full of people who are recording and monitoring your moves. So, you settle on something safe.

"How did you feel scoring that winning shot?"

Rafe takes a deliberate moment to consider his answer. His silence tells it all. Before he leans down against the mic, his lips centimeters from the pop filter, and he says, "Empty."

Flashes of the camera go off, and hushed whispers are heard throughout the room. But none of that matters to you. Your eyes remain on Rafe, your heart skipping beats from his confession, and you tame enough of your voice before asking a follow-up. "Can you explain why?"

He nods. "Basketball is great and all, and I'm grateful for everything that has happened, and all I have accomplished. Hell, I'm even grateful for this team right here that's been such a hardass on me since day one," he gestures to his teammates on the panel, and they all grin and laugh. One even blows him a kiss. "But, at the end of the day, it's just a game. Without the people you love by your side, it's meaningless."

You truly feel like all the air has been sucked out of your lungs and tears crowd your waterline. When his words finally deliver through, it's almost a straight shot to your chest. This was the admission you'd been waiting for, but it didn't feel satisfactory whatsoever. It's painful, all of the old wounds opening by their stitches, and grief comes crawling up your throat, demanding to be felt.

You don't answer him. You can't. Rafe watches you carefully, trying to gauge your reaction, trying to see if his words had any impact, but you hide them well. For now. With tears stinging your vision, and seconds from unraveling at the seams, you drop the microphone onto the chair and leave the room in a rush.

That's when he realizes he fucked up.

Rafe stands from his seat, ready to follow after you, but his Coach commands him to sit down. His gaze remains on you until you exit the room, but with direct orders, he can do nothing but slump back into his chair.

When Rafe finishes the rest of his interviews, with more reluctance than he had before, he wants nothing more than to go back to campus to search for you. But he doesn't know if that's such a good idea. Clearing out, Rafe steps out of the doors.

To where you were waiting.

"You had no right," you snap, as Rafe heads to the exit of the stadium. He whips around at the sound of your voice, finding you leaning against the wall. As much as he knows he fucked up, he can't explain the happiness he feels at seeing you still here.

"For what?" Rafe prompts with an easygoing smile, "Talking? I'm pretty sure that's what the press conference is about."

But you don't take it so easy.

"You know exactly what I'm talking about," you huff, "You used my words against me."

During the breakup, Rafe had said something along the lines of focusing on his basketball career. You had rebutted that basketball can't be the one thing in his life. At the time, he disagreed, prompting the necessity of the breakup further. It had hurt to hear your words twisted and used against you.

"It was friendly," he reassures. "Just like the rest of my teammates. Talking like we're friends."

"We're not friends and you know that."

He frowns. "We said we would be."

"No, you said that," you hiss, clenching your hands by your side, memories slapping you and prickling your skin. "To rid yourself of the guilt, or to make it seem like permanent. I don't know. But it doesn't work that way with me, Rafe. We aren't friends."

His brows pinch together, and agitation flares through his hard features. "So, that's what it's gonna be like? You come to my games and you interview my entire team but you ignore me because we broke up? That's unprofessional."

You falter. "That's not fair."

"It isn't?" He challenges, stepping closer into your space. "How do you think I felt when you were interviewing every single one of my teammates about me, but refusing to talk to me? To look at me? What does that suggest?"

"That I got everything I needed from your teammates."

"You could've gotten it directly from the source."

"I didn't need to,"

"You could've,"

"Why are you so adamant about me talking to you?"

"Because you're acting like a vindictive bitch."

You stagger back as if he struck you, and Rafe instantly regretted the words that left his mouth. But he can't take them back. Your lips part, and you stare at him in disbelief, but you come up with nothing to defend yourself.

With the hardest glare you can muster, you proclaim, "Fuck you, Rafe."

And you turn to leave.

Rafe quickly follows after you. "Wait—that's not—I didn't mean that."

"I don't want to talk to you anymore."

"Just like you didn't want to talk to me in the conference room?"

"You broke up with me!" You snap, stopping in your tracks with such abruptness, that Rafe almost ran into you. Turning back around to face him, you say, "You were the love of my life, and you left me, and you expect me to keep it professional?"

Rafe says nothing.

"I'm trying," you croak, tears crowding your vision again, and you hate how vulnerable and pathetic you feel in his presence. Like it was back to that night in the car, where Rafe said it was over. "I'm trying to do this right."

Rafe watches your face with anguish, but he can't say anything. You're trying hard to keep your composure, and regain some semblance of stability, you say with a even voice, "I'm glad everything is working out the way you want it to. I'm glad you get this bigshot career and you're about to make it in the NBA, and I'm glad you found it so easy to move on but that's not how it worked with me." Your voice cracks. "I loved you. I can't just forget about it like it's nothing."

His voice is small when he answers. "I didn't."

"You didn't?" You repeat with disbelief. "Rafe, you're thriving. You barely look like our breakup had any impact on you. You're about to secure one of the biggest deals in NBA history. What else could you possibly be missing?"

"You."

His dark eyes connect with yours in utmost vulnerability and it cripples you. All your aggression and anger, all your pent-up frustration—it makes you upset that Rafe manage to disarm you with one word.

"No," you step back, shaking your head, "You can't do that."

"It's the truth."

"It's too late."

Rafe looks pained at your declaration. "Don't say that."

"Don't say what?" You sniffle, your vision blurring with hot tears. "My truth? Did you expect me to wait around for you to come to your senses? To beg for you to take me back?"

"I didn't..." Rafe stammers, searching your face for any indication that it isn't too late. That he still had a chance. But he doesn't find any. "I was honest back there. Any win without you feels empty."

"Stop,"

"I made a mistake."

"Rafe—" You shake your head again, sucking in a deep breath, and needing him to listen and step back. "I'm not here to talk about that. I don't want to talk about that."

"But I do,"

"But I don't," you declare firmly. "I just... I need you to understand. You can't do that. I'm trying to move on with my life. And I understand that we're going to be seeing each other, no matter how I don't want to. But I'll get used to it. I'll numb that pain. But you can't do that. Here; back there. It wasn't fair to me."

Your words sound too permanent. Too real. Rafe can't stand it.

With desperation, he pleads, "Can we talk?"

"We're already talking."

"No, I'm talking about us," Rafe says, taking a step forward. Only for you to take one back. "Please."

"There's nothing to talk about it."

"There's so much to say."

"Name one."

"I miss you."

"Rafe," you cry, tears streaming down your face that you can no longer contain. He hates seeing you cry. He hates it more to be the reason. All he wants is to pull you into his arms and apologize, over and over, to soothe the pain, but it looks as if it would hurt worse if he tried to touch you. "Please stop. You're breaking my heart again."

He made a mistake. There are so many times he can say that. When he saw you in the media room, for the first time in months, it came rushing back to what he's missing. How much he's losing you. He wanted to ask you so much—about how you're doing, to learn how you got the job, to uncover more about how close you are to achieving your dreams.

But he was barricaded. By responsibilities, obligations, and duties. He couldn't ask you in a room full of people. He couldn't help you when his father pressured him to break up with you for his career. He couldn't do anything, then. But he wants to do better now.

He says your name, so defeated, in a last-ditch effort. But you shake your head.

You need to leave this place with whatever is left of your pride and dignity. So, you straighten your spine, take out his jersey from your tote, and hand him the last remnant of your relationship. "Congratulations on your win, Mr. Cameron. I wish you the best in your career."

And when you turn to leave this time, he doesn't stop you.

IMPORTANT: if you want to follow my fics and updates, follow @zyafics-library and turn on notifications!

[doromoni]

Not Over the Papaya | OP81

⊹ ｡•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ

Ships : Oscar Piastri x Popstar! Reader , Ex!Lando Norris x Popstar! Reader

Genre : Fluff Smau

A/N : womp womp my final uni project is making me crazy and it’s hurting my wallet fr. Anyways, this update took way too long again, are we surprised? No, we are not. Lol Enjoy

Face claim : Jennie Kim

Summary : Y/N and Oscar cope with their own breakups by making the Heartbreak Club.

Masterlist | Series Mastelist

< Previous | Part 12 | Next >

Incoming call from xxxx xxx xxx

Pick up or Decline

Pick up

“Hello?”

“You made a mistake choosing him”

“Wow, whose phone is this now, Lando?”

“He cant make you happy. The team will not allow it”

“Yeah whatever”

“Y/N I-“

“don’t care”

end call

call dropped

Y/N.

liked by oscarpiastri, y/bf charles_leclerc, danielricciardo, and others

Y/N. That boy is mine

tagged @oscarpiastri

oscarpiastri Hi girlfriend🧡

Y/N. Hi boyfriend 🧡

charles_leclerc WE GET IT U LOVE HIM, why do I need to see him this way 😀

Y/N. get used to a cunty Osc.

charles_leclerc NO he’s an innocent baby, ur corrupting him!!

oscarpiastri wtf. alex pls collect charles

danielricciardo why is it spicy 🥹

oscarpiastri not my fault I’m hot, deal with it

Y/N. Preach.

logansargeant I MADE THIS HAPPEN

Y/N. I’ll give credit when it’s due… ok thanks logan hunter sargeant

oscarpiastri Thanks, now leave us alone pls

logansargeant WOW this is the thanks i get????

user1 Oscar made it into the feed!! Lets go

user2 Y/N and Oscar are now OFFICIAL official

user3 Y/N took the hard launch way to hard

user4 the amount of pda and tension in this post alone makes me want to cry. OK IM SINGLE thanks for pointing that out

user5 SLIDE 1 HELLO???!!

user6 ik!! im shooketh

user7 Osc is so in love with Y/N and it shows 🥹

user8 Osc is obsessed. Ugh I’m so single that it hurtssss

user9 Lol as he should, that is THE Y/N L/N

oscarpiastri

liked by Y/N. , logansargeant, charles_leclerc, markwebber, and others

oscarpiastri against all odds, that girl is mine

tagged @Y/N.

Y/N. Sorry ladies, dibbs! I claim this man🤭

oscarpiastri proudly urs, Luv

nicolepiastri U better not hide Y/N from us, Oscar!

Y/N. Hi Mrs. P 🥺

nicolepiastri hello sweetie! Can’t wait to meet you in person.

oscarpiastri You’ll meet her mom, don’t worry

charles_leclerc So sweet. The two of you are insufferable

oscarpiastri Wow ok. I’m telling grandma u said that.

Y/N. Get off the gram then old man!

user1 OK but why is Osc so hot all of a sudden

oscarpiastri its the girlfriend effect

user1 HI OSC!!

user2 its the Y/N influence~ boi got hotter instantly 🥵

user3 Osc posting Y/N all over his socials!! Flaunt your queen, King.

user4 Brother made sure everyone knew that Y/N is off limits

user5 This is how you treat ur significant other, you dont hide them and treat them like trash. Pls do take notes … Lando im looking at you.

user6 Oscar is spoiling Y/N~ i’m so here for it 😭🫶

user7 Y/N is finally getting the love she needs. Both of them are making efforts for each other, not just Y/N

user8 I’m still obsessed with what Osc did after his win. when will it be my turn huhhh?

user9 I will never let myself forget. My standards are thru the roof!

Notification: you were tagged by mclaren on a post

mclaren

liked by user1 and others

mclaren Welcome back to our side of the paddock @Y/N. We missed seeing you in papaya!

Y/N. Just to support my man @oscarpiastri

oscarpiastri 🧡🧡🧡

danielricciardo @Y/N what an honor to be a guest at McLaren 😀 liked by author

Y/N. I know! I’m so happy to be back there 😀 liked by author

mclaren @Y/N MTC comeback soon? 🤔

Y/N. I would be stupid not to come back 🙂‍↕️😀

user1 Lmao who let admin post this? Y/N is clearly there just for Oscar.

user2 Y/N wouldn’t touch them with a ten foot pole, let alone go back 😭

user3 Mclaren ur embarrassing urself here honey.

user4 the obvious pr stunt, when in fact they hate Y/N for Lando’s stupidity

user5 Danny Ric and Y/N on the comments filled with sarcasm, chandler bing would be proud 🤡

user6 not mclaren actually liking the comments 🤡😭

user7 @user6 I like to think that mclaren knew it was sarcasm but they were forced to like it anyway

user8 I like user7’s version so much I’m gagging HAHAHA

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*You renamed the group to Timstams and Ranch

Series Taglist : @champagneproblems17 @itsjustfranzi @cheriwritesig @forza-charles @awritingtree @sltwins @gr1mes-cc @hwalllllllelujah @btsfluffsworld @tillyt04 @landotd @booksandflowrs @czennieszn @thatsouthernblondewiththeass @wobblymug @alittlechaotics-blog @bingussthirdtoe @mirrorball-6 @demandealalune @heartsforleclerc @yoongi-holland @maneskin-slave @alenix @forensicheart @bloodyymaryyy @stereading @hahahjej @youre-on-your-ownkid : closed

Maintaglist : @myescapefromthislife @peterholland04 @charlottef1 @fangirl125reader @mel164 @gnarlycore @chloelovesln4 @vickykazuya @merchelsea @ln4author @qzmef @nxk1309 @styl1shl1v @lottalove4evelyn @gr3yhues : closed for now

[junocornkiwi]

*puts your Gale in a Pringle’s can and rattles him around* I LOVE HIM YOUR HONOR

Your blorbo drawings have been helping me stay sane over the last few days by contributing to my overwhelming brainrot about the Stupid Sexy Wizard™️. I’m full on delulu about my malewife rn.

Thank you for your service 🫡

LET HIM OUT OF THE JARR PLS

he's an old man he'll have a headache

ur always welcome tho, i'm glad it keeps u in a good mood ;*

[anna-proxx]

pretty please can we have arthur morgan falling in love with hyperfem! reader? ur stuff is always so so yummy,, no pressure ofc! ૮꒰ྀི∩´ ᵕ `∩꒱ྀིა

⭒✧⋆｡guns n' bows ✧⋆｡⭒

pairing: Arthur Morgan x hyperfem!reader

genre: fluff, slight angst (good ending)

summary: Arthur finds himself adoring a dainty woman who joined the gang a while ago. It suddenly becomes clear to him he has fallen in love.

word count: 3294

tags: high honor arthur, fem!reader, (mutual) pining, arthur being a sweetheart

a/n: thank u so much, dolly! i had a few ideas on how to approach this and decided to make it more story-based and focus on arthur's inner process as he realizes he's in love with the reader (as i would imagine it to go). if you'd like something a bit different, lmk! i've been wanting to write a hyperfem fic for a while now, so i had fun with it. also, i'm thinking about writing a pt. 2 where i'd focus more on the reader's pov and have arthur express his feelings more (be a cutie around her) and confess his love. <3

dividers by @saradika / @saradika-graphics

✮ masterlist

Arthur Morgan wasn't used to being gentle with people. His hands were rough and calloused and his muscle memory trained to draw his guns and shoot. They were meant to be a weapon, to protect and harm for the people he considered his family.

Perhaps he had it in him, but there was no reason to be soft and gentle – the world was just as rough as him and he was assigned the burden of fighting against it. The softest he could get was between the pages of his journal as he wrote about his thoughts and sketched owls and beavers and when he patted dogs and talked to his horse.

But most of those were away from prying eyes and frankly, the role of a dense criminal prized for his brawn comfortably fit around his overlooked qualities, as that was all he needed to be. To survive, to fulfill his role.

And yet you saw right through it. Of course you did, you had a good heart, open to whoever you saw goodness in. While some might write Arthur off as a rugged criminal only, you noticed his edges weren't as sharp as he tried making them seem to be.

His duties were violent, sometimes brutal, the earth soaking up blood of his enemies and his image reflecting in their eyes as the last thing before they closed them forever. To some, he was their biggest nightmare. He wasn't a good man, to believe so would be naive and foolish, but he wasn't all bad either, as some would think.

Your heart was big enough to accept his sins and leave the judgment to whatever was above, meanwhile you sought his presence as it brought you a strangely warm sense of security and comfort. Like moth to a flame, his different nature allured you. Hardened on the outside and soft-hearted on the inside.

Perhaps that was the reason you found yourself liking this big outlaw. Scooted towards him at the campfire, or sat nearby and watched him as he lied on his cot and scribbled something into his journal.

You might've been fragile and soft spoken, but you weren't stupid and your intuition on people was like a radar you could wholeheartedly trust. So you did.

Arthur didn't exactly know you sometimes looked for his presence, but he did notice you were comfortable around him.

It baffled him a little – you were so small compared to him, wearing lace and frills and cute little bows in your hair and yet you didn't seem to be intimidated by his appearance or demeanor at all. It sparked joy inside of him whenever you'd come to him blabbering about the rainbow you saw or gave him a soft smile as your eyes met.

You never treated him with judgment or revulsion, despite knowing very well your morals were against everything he was doing. Just how big of a sweetheart were you to do that? He never said it, but it meant a lot to him.

He felt as though you weren't even a part of all this. You were like a gem among roughened stones or a flower growing in gravel, reading in your tent and braiding your horse's mane while he washed blood off his hands.

And truth be told, because of that, he found you to be soothing and healing for his battered soul. It was so different, to be around someone like you.

You brought out a side of him he didn't know he had, one that was more tender than he was used to be. He didn't feel so angry or cynical, even after a job gone wrong. When he was with you, being gentle was easy.

At the beginning, when you first fell with the gang, it was doubt and hesitation he felt towards you. You were so... untouched by the world's cruelty, so innocent and open-hearted.

Arthur assumed you were naive and feeble, not only in the physical sense but mental as well. The world posed a huge threat to someone like you and he was worried you wouldn't survive in such circumstances. He was convinced you'd run after a few weeks but you did no such thing.

As the months passed, you stayed with the gang, patient and resilient while remaining soft and feminine. You helped where you could and offered a listening ear to anyone who needed it; even managed to get Arthur to open up to you when you two were alone. And you barely ever complained, even ate all Pearson's stews though you must've been used to eating fine food. And you lit up the space wherever you went. Your optimism was invincible. How the hell were you managing to do that?

It dawned on him he must've terribly underestimated you and his doubtfulness turned into admiration and intrigue. You were one fascinating little thing.

Things have been going quite downhill, so he kept checking up on you and you always had a warm smile to offer. You were still sweet and charming, even with the law on your tail.

You were his polar opposite, gentle waves of the sea splashing against hard rocks hot from the sun. Soft clouds concealing the sky after a raging storm. A calm rain on a hot summer day.

Arthur had no intentions of falling in love ever again.

But his heart was a sneaky little traitor.

Dusk softly illuminated the lake's surface when he found you sitting on the pier, your feet splashing in the water. You put your shoes beside you and held the skirt of your dress at your knees to avoid getting it wet. It was your favorite, white and pink, the corset decorated with little bows at the front. Your locks curled loosely over your shoulders, a light pink bow tying some of it at the back of your head.

You looked so vulnerable and cute lost in your thoughts like this, your feet creating creases in the water as you idly watched them. You had no company with you, only a couple of ducks swimming nearby and butterflies fluttering their wings around your head.

Arthur wondered what your mind was occupied with and before he could properly think it through, his steps directed towards your small frame lit by warm light.

You were pondering on the events of the past few weeks when the heavy steps on the wooden planks caught your attention. Turning your head to look up at the person coming, your eyes lit up as you saw it was your favorite one.

"Arthur!" you called out, your big doe eyes digging a pit in Arthur's stomach.

"[Name]. How are you?" His gaze lingered on you as he stood before you, his hands placed on the gun belt around his hips. You found the concern sweet. Instead of it being a casual phrase, his eyes studied you for an actual answer.

"Good, I think. What about you?" Your voice was smooth like honey and inviting, giving the outlaw something to lean into.

"'M alright," his voice rumbled as he shifted on his feet, his gaze dropping to the ground. "Ya like this place?"

You shortly looked around, taking in the view of the trees and dim sky reflected back in the peaceful lake.

"I do, it's such a charming spot." You looked back into Arthur's face, catching a hint of a smile on his lips.

"'M glad to hear that."

You could almost hear his goodbye that would follow but before he had the chance, you spoke.

"Come on, join me." You patted the spot next to you and slightly turned your body towards Arthur when he sat beside you.

Arthur was a bit at loss of words, always quick with his witty responses but uncertain around you. Your flowery perfume overcame him, then the sight of your rosy cheeks and full lips. You looked like a doll, looking at him through your long lashes with the most innocent look in your eyes.

For a moment your company made him forget about everything. He felt like just a man instead of a sinner, leaning into the silent acceptance you provided him.

You swung your feet in the water. "What did you do today?" you asked kindly, no trace of judgment.

Arthur sighed, recalling the day's events. "Robbed a stagecoach, had to shoot 'em guards. Met a few of the O'Driscoll boys too."

He wasn't one to sugarcoat things, especially when there was no reason to. You knew what kind of person he was and despite you never expressing disgust, he knew you must've had certain sentiments of him and they were all true. He was no better than the crooks he fought. And yet, with you, he wished he was.

Your gaze found his hand resting over his knee, barely dried blood on his knuckles.

"Oh, Arthur!" You took his hand in his, examining the damage with focus as you held his palm with both your hands, yours small in comparison to his.

Arthur's breath faltered in his throat. A lukewarm feeling settled in his chest and slight panic ran through his mind as he was slow to realize just what was happening. The warm touch of your smooth fingers was unusually intensive and he wished for the moment to never stop, as if he ever cared for such things.

He felt silly for it. What was happening with him? Why did he feel such fondness at your delicate hands cradling his, the slight blush on your cheeks, the flyaway hairs around your head?

He furrowed his brow at the unfamiliar tightness in his chest, the rhythm of his heartbeat picking up on pace.

He hasn't felt this way ever since...

"Your poor knuckles," you mumbled while gently running your finger over the bruises. "You know, I don't think I've ever seen them healed."

Your tone was nothing but caring, as if Arthur hadn't used the fist to break someone's jaw. You put his hand away, putting yours in your lap as you continued bathing your feet in the water and watching the thoughtful look on Arthur's face as he softly looked at you.

Arthur cleared his throat, chasing all the crazy thoughts away. "And how's yer day been?"

You tactfully ignored the change of topic and played around with your necklace as you spoke. "Well, it was alright. I've been doing chores almost whole day, then went to Rhodes for some supplies with Tilly and Javier. He also taught me a bit of one Spanish song!"

Oh did he? A pang of jealousy struck him. What the hell was wrong with him?

"Arthur, everything okay?" you asked, your brow furrowed at the sight of his troubled expression.

"Sure, 'm... just tired, that's all."

You nodded, looking at the sky coloring itself in blueish grays. "Yeah, I might go to sleep earlier today as well, I reckon."

Pulling your feet out of the water, you started putting on your shoes while Arthur stood up, offering you a hand by the time you were done. You smiled up at him and accepted his hand, being effortlessly pulled up to your feet.

"Thank you, Arthur."

Your voice wouldn't leave his head, even after you walked towards your tent, disappearing from his sight. He walked to his own one in a trance, left with many unanswered questions in his head.

This wasn't like him, even less to be so confused by his feelings. And yet, as he lay in his cot that night, he kept going back to the moment at the lake, imagining what it would've felt like to brush his fingers through your soft hair or cup your cheek.

Another heavy sigh.

Only yesterday you were still just you. A kind girl they had rescued when she had nowhere else to go, a young woman who–

No, who was he kidding. The warning signs had been there long before; the warmth in his chest whenever he saw you, that little jump his heart did when you said his name, the joy he felt when you asked him for small favors.

It gnawed at him, the sense of knowing he tried pushing away.

He fell in love with you. Somewhere along the way, without taking notice. As complicated and messy it would make things, in a way, admitting to himself the feelings he had for you felt relieving.

How was he so stupid not to realize sooner?

He loved the way you got excited over making flower crowns and how you'd weave some for the girls. He loved when he saw you consoling and comforting Karen into putting the bottle away, or even being kind to that bastard Kieran. He loved when he found you playing with Jack, letting him put flowers in your hair. He loved your feminine gaze, the one that would capture all his attention, or how your kindness towards him made him feel. As if there was still hope for him, as if he wasn't damned after all.

But there was a tight knot in his stomach. He might've set himself up for another heartbreak. How could you want someone like him?

Arthur fell asleep riddled with contradicting thoughts that night.

The new reality of being in love with you gave him a sort of solace. But it wasn't until morning that he decided he could only do one thing – keep his distance. For both his and your sake.

You were beautiful and dainty like a rose, but he was the thorns.

Arthur did as he promised to himself – despite the stolen glances and wishful thoughts split in half, he would avoid you, though it wasn't as apparent as he's been so busy lately. Not like he would complain about that, if anything, it took his mind off you, even if not for long.

Above all he wanted to return to camp after a difficult job and be close to you, talk to you, feel your calming presence.

What he didn't expect with his plan was how much it would wear him down.

But the last thing he wanted was to hurt you, which he assumed would eventually happen, or lose his head for someone who wouldn't reciprocate the same feelings back.

He returned to camp late today. In the middle of the night when everyone was already asleep. He wanted nothing more than to lie down in his cot, his shoulders slouched as he got down from the saddle and patted his horse a good night, unsaddling him to give him some rest too. The night was quiet and tranquil, like peace after a storm, given how Arthur's day went.

It has been weeks since Arthur had realized he had feelings for you by this point and looking towards the tents, he couldn't help but wonder whether you were alright. He hasn't been around much lately, so he could only guess you continued to be true to who you've been since the beginning. With ribbons in your hair and a dreamy look in your face.

He sighed at the image. What a lovestruck fool he was.

He missed your sleepy eyes and the little wrinkle between your eyebrows when you were confused.

As if something listened to his wishes, a small figure emerged from the shadows and he realized it was you.

Wearing your undergarments, bloomers with frills and lace, you made your way straight towards him. Your hair was in two braids tied by pink ribbons, though a bit messy from sleep, and the loose strands of hair tucked behind your ear.

He froze in place, watching you get closer while his heart went a little crazy. A part of him was happy to see you approaching him, whatever the reason for that was. It made him feel fuzzy inside and that scared him more than any gunfight.

"Arthur!" you called out for him with a slightly shaky voice, not stopping your steps until you stood right before him.

Arthur fought the urge to reach out for you as he saw you small and vulnerable, looking up at him with need, his heart struck with fear when he noticed the little tears in your eyes.

"[Name], what's wrong?" There was urgency in his voice, a worried look in his eyes and panic coursing through his veins.

You held a sob as you spoke, hugging yourself with your arms, a few of the loose strands falling into your face.

"J-just a nightmare. I woke up so s-scared." You started to shiver as you recalled the frightening images. As soft as you were on the outside, you had a vivid imagination and your nightmares could get very eerie and gruesome, causing chills to travel up your spine every time the memory flashed before your eyes.

Arthur's instincts now clutched his heart tightly, a knot tying itself in his stomach. He hated seeing you like this, helpless, afraid and trembling. The sight of you awakened every bit of his protective nature and he didn't want anything more than to hold you and never let you go, even put his life on the line just to keep you safe.

He didn't think twice.

"Aw, c'mere," he proposed in a low warm voice, enveloping you in his embrace gently enough to give you the option of changing your mind.

But you snuggled into the hug instead, a small sob escaping you as you wrapped your arms around his torso, your arms barely connecting behind his back.

He was so warm and firm and you have never felt safer in your whole life. The anxiety was slowly mellowed out, filling your heart with affection instead.

Arthur breathed in your scent and it made him feel lightheaded, and to feel your soft warm body pressed against his felt like a dream.

You were so delicate in his arms and your exposed skin made it hard for him to keep his thoughts straight. He was a gentleman of course, but his heart raced nonetheless and he feared you could hear it beating against your ear.

"It's okay, t'was just a dream." His voice was soothing and warm, and it worked like a charm. He consoled you with strokes on your back, his big palms hot through the thin layer of your undergarments.

"What horrible thin' did ya dream 'bout?" Arthur asked, his embrace not loosening around you. He was quite happy like this, protecting you between his arms, as if you always belonged there.

You kept your face nuzzled to his chest, comfortably leaning into the hug.

You started talking about the dream and he listened. A monster, you said, something big and deranged sneaking its way around to its victims. You rambled about the details, your descriptions a mess as you spoke in loose tangles.

Arthur slightly smiled at your stuttering, it made you even more adorable than you already were, though he didn't know it was even possible.

He would kill anyone who'd dare to touch you.

"'M the only scary thing 'round here 'm afraid," Arthur muttered, his chest rumbling under your head.

"As if," you retorted with your voice muffled, certainty in your disagreement.

It caught Arthur off guard a little and nervousness arose in him as he asked the following question. "You ain't scared of me?"

He knew if there was even an ounce of fear in you, it would've killed him.

You looked up at him, your eyes big and glossy. "I feel safe with you, Arthur."

His heart dropped and he looked into your eyes completely baffled, not grasping how such a sweet creature like you could say such a thing to him.

You felt safe with him.

You did.

He felt vulnerable under your gaze; not even heavens could make him feel so exposed. He was afraid you could read his thoughts with that pretty mind of yours as you held the eye contact, that you could recognize how much he was now melting and crumbling inside.

So much for being a tough hardened criminal.

He felt like a teenager again. The sweating hands, tingles in his stomach, it was all back.

Arthur tightened his embrace, cuddling you closer.

As he held you under the starry sky, your tiny arms wrapped around him, he was sure of one thing.

He could do many things. But staying away from you was not one of them.

[ddejavvu]

heyy!!! saw u were looking for outsiders requests and lemme say, MY OBSESSION WHEN I WAS YOUNGER WAS INSANEEEE!! so u get me??

anyways, what abt a cutie lil fluff drabble where dally is mean to everyone but reader and is super protective over them? and maybe like the other guys make fun of his soft spot for r?

anywhore love ur writing cutie!

send me requests for the outsiders!

i'm so glad you get me <33 everyone in my class made fun of me for how much i liked the book but also i kind of deserved it because i was loud and proud about it. i can barely call it bullying because i totally asked for it

--

You've never been naive about Dallas's reputation: his name's always the first people spit out when something suspect happens in town. But you'd never seen him get quite so worked up before- not the way he does when Two-Bit gets a little too extravagant with his gestures mid-anecdote and sends beer flying out of the neck of his bottle dangerously close to your cream-colored cardigan.

"Hey, hey- hey!" You barely register Dally's sudden snarl before a hand locks painfully tight around your arm, yanking you sideways and out of the line of fire. You gasp, more from the shock than from the spill, but Dally's hand is gone before it can do any damage and you're left to rock slightly on your feet from the momentum.

"Damn drunk, throwin' your beer around like that." Dally sneers, "Jesus, man, can't you just sit still for once? Gotta wave your damn hands around, makin' stupid jokes- you almost flung it on her-" He swivels to face you, "-on her pretty sweater." Dallas lets the words fall off of his tongue like he knows they're ridiculous coming from him. They're clipped, staccato sounds as he brushes a stray piece of fuzz from the shoulder of your clean cardigan.

"Damn, Dal," Two-Bit whistles, "Sor-ry. Y/N, your sweater okay?"

"It's fine." You pipe up quickly, your voice sweet to both placate your simmering boyfriend and make up for the harshness of his words, "Really, none got on my sweater. Nothing got on me at all."

"Just cool it, Dal." Darry watches with a guarded expression where he's perched at the table, and you're sure if it had been anyone else in the town, Dallas would have turned on his heel and shown him how cool the edge of a blade could be. But instead Dallas merely scoffs, muscling you over a few more steps away from Two-Bit with the sharp point of his shoulder and guiding you to sit on the corner of the couch.

"'Thing was probably stupid money." Dallas looks sideways and down at your sweater with faux-distaste, like he hadn't just been defending its honor with as much violence as he could get away with, "Soakin' it with beer would have killed you, huh?"

You could have washed it. Sure, it would have been unpleasant to sit in for the rest of the night, but the stain wouldn't have been permanent, and any lingering smell could have been covered up with perfume. But Dallas seems flighty, like an animal desperately trying to cover its exposed underbelly, and you lean against his shoulder instead of jabbing at his soft spots.

"Mhm. Thanks, Dallas." You hum, admiring the way your cream-colored cardigan wraps around the cool black leather of his jacket when you take his arm in your grip, "Glad you're here to watch out for me."

[zevrra]

could u write a jayce x female or gn reader fic or blurb where the reader has major baby fever or just wants a child in general? I feel like Jayce would make such a good girl dad. idk..this request is pretty stupid but i’ve just been craving Jayce as a dad.

I LUV UR WRITING BTW!! PLS NEVER STOP POSTING! 🤍

a/n: AAAAH this was such a cute idea i couldn’t resist KSHDKH. jayce 100% is a girl dad, you can’t change my mind and i also like to think he’d want a HUGE family too. 😭 thank you so much for the request and im sorry it’s a lil shorter but i hope it makes you giggle and kick your feet at the thought of dad!jayce bc i did KSHSKH i love jayce so much omg

jayce is definitely someone who wants to have a giant family one day. wants to have as many kids, in anyway possible, as his partner will let him. he’d be so sweet talking about how one day he hopes he can show off his kids and give them everything they could ever dream about. his heart is so big and it’s just so cute.

the two of you had been together for a very long time and seeing every child recently made you yearn for your own. so when you mention over dinner one day, wanting to start a family; he’s ecstatic. he’s so happy, staring at you with wide eyes as his face lights up with that stupidly charming smile of his.

“are you serious?” he asks; as if this might be a dream and that you’re lying to him.

“no jayce, i said it just to tease you.” you respond sarcastically. laughing with a shake of your head. you manage a shy glance in his direction as your fingers play with the utensils on the table. “i’ve just been thinking about it recently. seeing all the cute babies around the city during the holidays is just making me…want to start a family.” you add with a smile towards your lover.

who still sits and stares at you with wide eyes. his mouth slightly agape, fangs flashing as his lips curl up in a warm smile. he reaches across the table to grab your hand, his pretty hazel eyes full of love as he brings your hand up to his lips; placing a gentle kiss against your knuckles.

“it’s your call, my love but i would be honored to start a family with you.” jayce hums sweetly. he plants another kiss against your knuckles before his thumb rubs across the top of your hand, soothingly touching you as he practically looks like he’s on the verge of tears. as if he’s waited for this moment for forever.

always so dramatic and you loved him for it.

“i think you’d make a great dad.” you state in a matter of fact tone, giving his hand a gentle squeeze back.

and truly, jayce would in fact make the best dad. you didn’t have to say it out loud to know it was true either; since he was already the perfect partner. you could easily imagine him with a little girl, protecting her from any harm, playing dress up, pretending to drink tea when he’s offered a plastic cup. he’s so sweet and deserves everything good in the world and you wanted nothing more than to start that next chapter in his and your own life.

[wonton4rang]

i freaking love your writing aaaa 🫶🫶

im kinda biased here but leehan doing sumn under the table or blanket and continuing conversation like the menace that he is 🤭

also rlly honored to have been ur first ask 😚

stoooooppp, you're so nice :(( i'm glad that you like my writing and tysm for being my first ask, it was greatly appreciated <33

and you are not biased !!! i am honestly the same so we are kinda sharing one braincell tbh, the leehan brainrot is rEAL. hope you like this!

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i feel like it would happen when you too are hanging out with the other guys, you dressed up so prettily since it was a big night for sungho, he just got that promotion that he wanted for years. it was a celebration! but leehan just couldn't wrap his mind over the fact that YOU had to dress SO cute AND hot when sungho was nothing more than a friend of YOUR boyfriend leehan. was he jealous? yes. not because he saw sungho as a menace but more because everyone was looking at you whenever you laughed or said the most basic things, being pretty obvious that they just found you as beautiful as he did. but what actually made him grin a little bit with disbelief was the way you tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear and looked down while laughing, were you really flirting back? "y/n, what's up with you?" he whispered to your ear, his right arm grapped around your waist before you asked him what he meant "what's so funny about what riwoo said?" you were not stupid, not even a little bit, so you backed up to look into his eyes, suddenly all the fun left your body when you were just met by his blank stare. "he has a great sense of humour, baby, nothing personal" excuses was all leehan heard coming out your mouth so he just ignored your words, his free left hand (that was not around your waist) going up your tight instead and making you panic when he looked back to the front, joining the conversation with the boys while his fingers dangerously ghosted the front of your underwear. and he was kinda rough the moment he threw your panties aside and entered a finger without warning. "fuck, leehan" you called under your breath so the others couldn't hear you but leehan ignored you again and just moved his finger, joining another one after a few seconds; it was so embarrassing to be feeling this good while your boyfriend fingered you right in front of his friends, just under the table, the blanket being the only thing keeping the obscene action covered as the table was made of glass. "stop it" your hand went to grab his but you wished you didn't say or did anything when he finally payed attention to you again. "did you say something, baby?" he would ask you, accelerating the movement of his fingers, not being in and out but now just curling them up inside of your cunt. "guys, i think y/n wants to say something" you just couldn't believe it, he was such a bitch, such a tease, and well shit, you were up for the challenge. your pussy clenched around his fingers and your cheeks flushed when he laughed at you being so nervous, and how could you not be when all the other boys were looking at you in expectation. "c'mon, baby, tell sungho what you wanted to say" leehan better sleeps with an eye open from now on, his fingers not stopping at all when you tried to gain composure and smiled to the party boy "i'm so happy you g-got this promotion, sungho, you definitely deserv-" but your words got lost when your boyfriend got his finger's pace faster inside of you "you deserve it, congratulations" and you thanked god for letting you finish that sentence without moaning in front of all of them, certainly traumatizing woonhak if it happened. the boy sitting next to you just removed his fingers from your pussy and laughed a bit at how wet you were and the pout you made by not being able to come, he leaned in to your ear and whispered "next time you make me feel like this i'll vent you over the table and fuck you in front of them" you were kinda mad, yes, but tbh your pussy throbbed at the thought. maybe leehan wasn't the only one that was kinda crazy.

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and there goes again another leehan thought again of my system, it's like a plague, they just keep coming back 😭

[stay-corner]

chan who sibling zones you out of habit bc you're a great friend to him and he cares a lot about you and he has some real delulu fans so sibling zoning you is the safe way to keep interacting, and then he falls in love with you and proceeds to sibling zone you even HARDER because he's scared and he's a worldwide celebrity

My delusional ass was just thinking about Channie and the fact that he would sibling zone you so fast???😭

Like nah, this man would not even HESITATE

“Oh we’re actually toge-“

“Oh! She’s like my little sister😄😁”

[ranhaitanisgf]

May I request Ran with “enemies/rivals to lovers” where Ran accidentally hurts reader (with his words), he goes too far. Usually they tease and make fun of each other but this really hurt y/n, maybe it was one of her insecurities. Anyways, he makes it up too her by taking her “star gazing” and apologizing to her. Thanks!!!!!!!!

— ran haitani // enemies to lovers // stargazing

☆ ˎˊ˗ did i go overboard. well yes. but i chose this one in honor of changing my username ! im in love w this man ur honor. srsly tho i loveee writing the silly little banter with the ran fics its actually so fun :D hope yall enjoyyyy xoxo

☆ ˎˊ˗ fem!reader implied

☆ ˎˊ˗ wc ; 2.0k+

masterlist || 2k masterlist

you’re not exactly sure what’s going on right now. 

one moment, you were lazing around your apartment, watching a drama and eating all the junk food you could see, and the next moment you were slung over ran haitani’s shoulder. 

what?

if you’d known that answering the door would have resulted in this, you would have just ignored it. 

“you stupid motherfucker!! let me down right now!!” you yelled, wiggling around trying to escape. ran’s grip around you was iron tight, making it next to impossible to try and get out. “can you just leave me the hell alone?! i was watching my drama!!” 

“nope.” 

“god, you’re such a douchebag sometimes.” you sighed, feeling defeated. there was probably no way you were going to escape back to your apartment if you hadn’t by this point, so you gave up. “what do you even want from me?? i thought you said you don’t like to talk to girls who are nerds ‘cause they freak you out or something.” 

“...”

“are you even going to tell me where we’re going??” 

“...”

“ran haitani!! answer me!!” ran said nothing once again, completely ignoring you as he exited your apartment building. as he kept walking, you heard the faint rumble of an engine, the rumble getting louder as he kept walking. 

finally, his grip loosened around you, though you were a bit caught off guard by how gently he let you down from his shoulder. his hands held you steady by your waist as you stumbled a bit, feeling a bit dizzy from being upside down. 

“ran, seriously, what’re you doing…?” you muttered, brushing his hands off from you. “it’s like 9pm! why are you here?!” 

“get on.” 

“what?” you got no response, instead watching as he settled himself in the front seat of his motorcycle, which you now realized was the cause of the rumbling sound. 

“are you going to get on?” ran asked, turning his head a bit to look at you. you think that your big mistake here was looking him in his eyes; when you saw the emotion and turmoil swirling in his hazy purple irises, you couldn’t help but to oblige. 

“fine, but only ‘cause you’re acting weird. if someone breaks into my apartment, you have to pay for everything since i know you didn’t lock the door.” you muttered, getting on the back seat of his motorcycle. 

you waited for the bike to revv up and for him to start driving, but he paused for a moment, seeming to be thinking. after a moment, he turned around and reached behind you, searching for something in the back compartment. that same cool expression was on his face, making you feel a bit dumb for feeling so flustered at the sudden lack of space between the two of you. for crying out loud, his face was right next to yours! how was he so calm? 

you couldn’t help but notice that he had foregone his usual braids, instead leaving his hair down. the way that his hair framed his face now covered the sharpness of some of his facial features, making him seem a lot less intimidating and more soft than he normally was. 

he let out a small hum when he found what he was looking for, leaning back from you holding a helmet in his hands. he gently put it on your head, looking at you for a moment longer than was probably necessary before turning back around, his back to you. 

what the hell…

as ran started drive off, you realized that there was a con to him having his hair down; as he started to speed up, his hair whipped right in your face, making you sputter as you tried to avoid it. 

“if it’s bothering you, come closer.” you heard him say. you had no idea what kind of face he was making right now, though it was probably the same cool and collected expression as always. what did he even mean by that? does he know how suggestive he sounds? 

as much as you didn’t like him, you also didn’t like having his hair continuously assaulting your face, so you scooted a bit closer to him. as he said, it was a little bit better, though his hair was still getting in your face. 

you were finally given a break at the next stoplight, giving you a moment to take in the cool night’s air. despite the strange circumstances, you had to admit that being on a motorcycle always gave you a sense of comfort in some kind of way. you enjoyed feeling the wind on your face and seeing everything passing by; it made it seem like nothing else in the world mattered except for that moment. 

suddenly, you felt yourself being pushed forward a whole lot more than was considered ‘friendly’. your chest made contact with ran’s back, your head awkwardly propped near his shoulder. looking to the side, you realized that ran had hooked his arm around your back and had pushed you forward, which you found to be somewhat of a feat considering the distance between the two of you, (you supposed he had his lanky arms and stature to thank for that). 

“hey! what the hell was that?!” 

“just helpin’ you out, doll.” 

“whatever.” 

despite the flippant way you muttered the word, you could feel the nervousness all bundled up inside you, twisting your stomach into knots. you weren’t sure what to even think at this point; what was he even trying to do here? last time you’d seen him…

“you freak me out when you talk like that; you’re really gonna be single forever if you keep acting like that.” 

so what the hell was he doing now? why was he suddenly acting like nothing had happened? 

although your thoughts were troubled by his strange behavior, you felt a bit awkward just leaning against him like a noodle, so you hesitantly wrapped your arms around his waist, keeping your grip loose. there were no words exchanged between the two of you for the rest of the drive, which gave you plenty of time to try and decipher his odd behavior. 

you weren’t sure how much time passed before ran pulled over to the side of the road, slowing down and coming to a stop. your arms unwrapped themselves from around his waist and you leaned back, looking around. 

he had brought you to a quiet part of the sumida river, the land around you slowly dipping until it met with the edges of the river. looking around, you couldn’t see any part of tokyo or any city buildings closeby, making you wonder just how far away he had taken you. 

“hey, where are we right now?” you asked, getting off of his bike and stretching a bit. “it feels like we came kind of a long way.” 

“i just followed the river for a bit. we aren’t too far from tokyo.” ran answered, flipping the kickstand down as he got off his bike. he pocketed his keys and slipped his fingers through his hair, fixing it a bit after the wind messed it up a bit. 

“so, are you going to tell me why we’re here?” 

“come on.” ran walked in front of you, walking down the steep grassy hill towards the river. you reluctantly followed, jogging a bit to catch up with his long strides. 

“y’know, with the cryptic way you’re acting, i could think that you brought me here to murder me or something.” 

“...” 

“uh, ran? you’re not actually gonna murder me, right?” 

“no.” 

“okay, right.” the two of you reached the bottom of the hill, standing there for a moment before ran laid down. you were unsure of what exactly was going on, but you laid down next to him, getting a bit worried. 

“hey…did something happen? is everything alright?” you were facing the sky that was littered with stars, but you could tell that ran was taking a moment to think before saying something. 

“you could say that.” 

“huh? what-?” 

“you’ve been avoiding me, haven’t you?” 

“...” now you were the one who was silent, unsure of how to respond to his question. he was right; you had been avoiding him. it wasn’t his fault that you had gotten butthurt over what was supposed to be a joke, but you hadn’t been able to help your feelings. the two of you joked and insulted each other all the time, so why was it that you were so hurt over that one comment? 

you already knew why, but you weren’t going to tell him, not in a million years. 

“you know i didn’t mean it.”

“i don’t know, maybe you did.” you answered flatly. “i don’t know why you even hang out with me. i’m always wondering if you’re gonna just up and leave one day and never talk to me again.” 

“i wouldn’t do that to you.” 

“you can’t say it’s not outside of your character though, can you? you’ve done that to other people, no?” 

“it’s different with you.” you laughed coldly at that, choosing to ignore it. 

“why are you even bringing this up right now? why come all the way here to talk about this when we could have just talked outside of my apartment?” you peered over at ran, feeling a bit infuriated to see the same damn expression on his face as always. 

“am i not allowed to do something to try and apologize?” he asked, suddenly sitting up and looking towards you. “you’re right that i’ve done that to other people, but you’re not other people. you…” for the first time, you saw his face screw up in frustration, eyebrows scrunched together and lips pressed together. “fuck…you’re just different, okay? i felt like shit after i said that crap, and i felt even more shitty when you started avoiding me. so-” he took a breath, his face going back to his usual calm expression. “-i’m sorry.” 

what. just. happened.

for a longer time than you would care to admit, you laid there staring at him with your mouth wide open, wondering if you were in the real world. to be fair, how were you supposed to believe this was real? the ran haitani, apologizing? to you? 

“you…you’re not fucking with me, right?” you questioned, sitting up slowly. 

“...no.” ran murmured, his gaze fixed on the river in front of you. “i can take you back home now, if you want.” 

“no!” ran quirked an eyebrow at you at your sudden response, his violet gaze turning to you. “i mean, uh, it’s fine. i like it here.” ran smirked a bit at your explanation, laying back down. 

“y’know doll, if i didn’t know any better, i would say that you’re nervous right now. why’re you nervous, hm?” the teasing lilt to his words made your cheeks feel warm, making you lay back down to avoid his gaze. 

“you think i’m nervous? i’m not nervous, i don’t know what you’re talking…about…” your words tapered off as ran moved closer to you, his arm slipping under your frame and pulling you against him. he tucked your head under his chin, his arm moving to rest around your waist. 

“hm, i guess you’re not nervous then. what a shame. you’re pretty cute when you’re nervous~” the close proximity allowed you to feel the vibrations of his voice rumbling through his chest as he spoke, making your heartbeat speed up exponentially. 

“what…what do you think you’re-?”

“shh, look at the stars. that’s why i brought you here.” for some reason, his words immediately shut you up, your emotions being too extreme to say anything snarky back. all you knew at that moment was ran; his voice and the teasing tone he always has, his hair that’s splayed all around him making it seem like he’s an angel, his lazy purple eyes that are looking at you right now despite him saying to look at the sky. 

“you-”

“shh.”

you supposed that you could just look at the stars for now.

[bitbybitwrites]

Well . . hellloooooooo out there folks!

Thanks again for the following folks who have tagged me for Six/Seven/Several Sentence Sunday and WIP Weds these past few weeks:

@nocoastposts, @iboatedhere, @porcelainmortal, @forabeatofadrum, @sophie1973

@blueeyedgrlwrites, @alasse9, @daisyishedwig, @tinyarmedtrex, @onthewaytosomewhere

@henrysfox, @caramelcoffeeaddict, @tailsbeth-writes, @caterpills, @littlemisskittentoes

(and if I've forgotten anyone, I apologize!!!!)

Let's see . . did a bit of writing lately I was able to crank out the following:

Smutsgiving 2024- Klaine/Glee

Smutsgiving 2024 - FirstPrince/RWRB

The latest chapter of Puppy Love (FirstPrince/RWRB Fic)

I'm working still on finishing up my Klaine fic, If I Can Make Your Heart My Home. About 2,500 words in on the next chapter.

Here's an excerpt below the cut: ( cc @datshitrandom)

******** “I swear, I was clear from the beginning, Kurt.  I told him I wasn’t interested in him.  I told him it wasn’t a date that night.  I just agreed to go with him only because he said he’d donate a lot to the charity if I did.  I didn’t think anything of it.  I thought it was . .” “Nothing?” Blaine’s shoulders sagged.  “Yeah, “ he whispered.  “I thought it was.”  He scooted up the bed, so he could lean back against the headboard. “God, I’m so stupid . . “ he muttered as he closed his eyes. A weight settled in his lap, causing him to look up and see Kurt there, straddling him.  Blaine could see the concern in those blue eyes. “You’re not stupid.” “But . .” “Blaine, listen to me.  You’re not stupid.”  Kurt leaned forward to cup Blaine’s face in between his hands.  “Sebastian is a conniving, manipulative son-of-a-bitch and at this moment I’d like to heave his sorry ass and his smarmy meerkat face into the East River.” Kurt spat. Blaine’s hands tightened around Kurt’s waist.  This must have been what Cooper had described when he witnessed Kurt confront their father -  this unfettered protectiveness of Blaine.  He only had Cooper and Nan been so passionately in his corner before. Now he had Kurt . . and that . . that feeling was overwhelming. "You’re not going to bludgeon him with a rolling pin when you go into the tea salon next, will you?” Blaine said with a weak smile, pulling Kurt closer and trying to calm him down with a little gallows humor. “Don’t tempt me,”  growled Kurt.  “If I could, I’d set Chef Sue on him.  Then he’d really know what its like to fear for his life on a daily minute by minute basis.” “So. . . you love me enough to commit murder for me. . . I’m touched,” Blaine murmured quietly. “I love you. Period.” Kurt said, making sure Blaine could see in his eyes that he was telling the truth.   “Now, would I defile my baking equipment to beat a man to death to uphold your honor?  You fucking bet I would.” Kurt said, his mouth set into a grim line. *****

I know the holidays are upon us and these next two weeks there will probably be less writing for me and more running around like crazy taking are of holiday responsibilities. But yes folks, have no fear, I'm still very slowly ( as I do) working on my WIPs :)

Uh and I might have signed up for the Klaine secret santa writing thing - because I'm a masochist. 😂

Dear Secret Santa, please be patient with me! Its coming - I did start it!

Hope you all have a wonderful holiday season . . .

Tagging. . .for those who want to play . . . besides the lovely folks already tagged above . . if you want to share what they've been working on lately :

@special-bc-ur-part-of-it, @little-escapist, @wowbright, @gleefulpoppet, @hkvoyage

@myheartalivewrites, @14carrotghoul , @kirakiwiwrites, @thesleepyskipper, @kirakiwiwrites

@madas-ahatters-world, @spaceorphan18 @firstprincehornyramblings , @rockitmans, @sparklepocalypse

@cryscendo @justgleekout @sarkyblueeyes @esilher @mynonah

[luffyvace]

Hello first of all- Omg my new fav author I LOVE UR WRITING SM LIKE ???? APBDISBRQKOZ

I found your blog form the author!Reader the anon who ask haz a creative mind I loved the 2 post sm I already got addicted to it I hope u Dont mind me requesting sm form it

Imagine Kusuo getting a notification (he seems like the one has his phone on dnd but has his notification open for his s/o in all media) of her post sm in one of there public social platform saying "I'm turning into my emo phase if this writer block doesn't move on form me " and when checking her private acc (the it's only access for him and her older friend) she is all memes about her writer block and her saying "if I stop writing I give all my books and series to you my friend" just her and overreacting to her block writer

Hiii!! THANK YOU CUTIE!! It always makes me so happy to hear I can share my hobbies with others <3 ahhh I see! Of course I don’t mind dear :)

ohh so if I’m getting this right it’s Saiki finding readers second blog (in which she mostly posts unserious stuff about her writers block) I believe I get what ya mean :}

*･..°•*:.｡:3･.｡.:*･..*°.･

Lol if feel like almost every writer has they’re side blogs or blog where they not a writer they just read other’s stuff

and to me this blog seems like a kinda funny vent blog where reader can just complain about her writers block whenever she has it

LOL imagine going inactive on that acc for weeks and saiki’s wondering if you forgot about it or forgot the password but you just simply have had a lot of motivation lately

then all the sudden you come back and your rebloging all types of relatable author memes and making posts about how ‘your going emo because you have writers block’

honestly it’s kinda ironic to him

he likes your posts on both accounts to support even when your do have writers block

cuz who’s likes a guy who ups and leaves when you don’t have motivation?

the first time you threatened to give your books away he knew you were joking but at the same time he was like ‘wait don’t give all your books away they can’t write it as well as you can 😀’

’kusuo I’m joking’

🧍

‘me too I knew that’

(“Thank goodness..her books were the only thing keeping me sane from those nuisances..”)

- In Saiki’s head

he doesn’t get all the writer memes bc he’s not an author, obviously he’s not stupid so he does find some funny

i feel he doesn’t post on social media but if a post of yours does particularly good he’ll repost it

i think I touched up on him being supportive before but yeah I’m gonna say it it again bc it truly is an honorable mention

‘(Name/pen name) has posted!’

- notification

👆💥📲

- Saiki

the emoji combo was terrible but basically that’s him about to break his screen from how hard he clicked

he’s always the first one on your posts and interacts every way possible

except comments..

which sucks cuz it boosts it a lot but he just doesn’t interact online 😭

if it’s a social media where you can see who liked, aiura and torisuka always tease Saiki for being the first like every time

“Dang your a real simp huh? Your the first like on her every post!”

- Aiura

”MAN! You don’t miss a beat do ya Saiki? I can never beat you to it 😭”

- Toritsuka

“wow..you beat me once again. The second the notification pops up you’ve already liked, reblogged and shared before I can even click on it. That’s impressive I must say, but it’s also quite annoying because I would like to be the first one to support (name) one day. In fact you do everything first! You get the books before they publish! You like all her posts first! Satire or not too!- yadda yadda yadda..”

- Akechi

“you don’t even respond to me that fast! Sometimes you leave me on read or delivered for 2 days before you answer me”

- Kaido

Saiki also sees that your friend likes your second acc too

which he would figure since you two are close

ehehe..a bit short dearest but I hope it brings you joy regardless~ 😅💞

I have much to get out..need to be more active..

[cocogum]

The Great Wave - Chapter 3 Review

‼️ SPOILERS FOR THE CHAPTER ‼️

Warning(s): extreme use of foul language.

Aurora is not pregnant.

I don’t believe it for a second, that cow is lying through her teeth. I already mentioned in the second chapter review that she just couldn’t be pregnant because there are three major reasons that easily disprove her claim.

First, it’s the amount of time that passed by. It has been a few months since Season 4 and the manga, around four months to be exact. And yet, Aurora’s stomach appears to be completely flat. How is this possible? Shouldn't there be a visible bump by now?

Second, season 3’s artbook already confirmed that Aurora was a manipulative woman and wanted to reflect it with her design (by having her hair covering one of her eyes) so who’s to say she’s telling the truth right now??

Third, @kilfeur pointed out in this post that if she was pregnant, Armand would not have allowed her to fly high up in the cloudy sky to gain knowledge about the Eliatrope goddess' eliaculus. Armand was already worried about Aurora when she went up, and the thought of her flying high while carrying their future child would have made him refuse the idea entirely, as he feared it could put their unborn child in danger.

So yeah, this skank is clearly lying her ass off just to manipulate the sadidas so that they could take her side. She’s so fucking petty omg I cannot deal with her. And her father is even worse my god wipe that ugly ass smile off your face you fatass.

This man clearly wants power that’s outside his kingdom. He just wants more even if it doesn’t belong to him and it painfully shows because he won’t stop making this fart face.

But it’s okay because as soon as Amalia opens her mouth, he immediately stops looking like a dumbass and immediately FROWNS because he knows she’s spitting FACTS.

And this is the only reason why I loved this moment. Amalia literally put him in his place and shut him up.

Amalia on the first panel: “What right do you return after you have shamelessly abandoned us? The osamodas kingdom, the nations of Bonta, Brakmar, Amakna, Astrub…”

Amalia on the second panel: “We asked you to come help us!”

Amalia on the third panel: “BUT NO ONE CAME! It was the future of the world that was at stake, not just the Sadida Kingdom!!!”

LIKE YES GIRL YES FUCKING DESTROY THIS OLD WASTE OF SPACE!!!

She literally dragged him on the fucking floor with all these facts omg I can’t she’s such a queen I love her so much. 💖💖

But then, instead of just taking it all like a good boy, this old bag of furry bones only had one thing to say and it was:

Osamodas blue cow king: “You give honor to your egocentrism, Amalia…”

Bruh what.

What are you talking about, you crusty old bat?

She drops so many facts and events that happened and this guy’s only comeback is “you’re being selfish 🥺😡”. Like what the fuck was even that???

Dude if you’ve got nothing to say, then don’t say anything but don’t just blurt out the first thing that comes out of your mouth??? Like what??

This is the equivalent of a detective who presented all the proofs that you committed the crime and the only thing you have to say is “your mama”.

Then, as if things couldn’t get any worse for this guy, he says:

Osamodas blue cow king: “My soldiers would have beat these creatures just as efficiently as yours.”

Oh yeah, where were they then, you fucking liar??? The worst part about this is that you didn’t even try hiding the fact that you would’ve been ‘ready’ but you’re so dumb you have no idea how brain-dead that makes you sound right now. You’re saying you could’ve sent your men BUT YOU DIDN’T DO SHIT. WHAT’S WORSE IS THAT YOU KNEW THE SADIDAS NEEDED HELP CUZ UR STUPID DAUGHTER FLED TO GO BACK TO YOU.

Also didn’t you once claim that Armand’s army was weaker than yours but then all of a sudden you’re now saying that your army could’ve beat the necromes like theirs did???

(oh oop- Armand don’t kill him yet 😭)

Bitch doesn’t even know what he’s talking about anymore. I doubt he even knows wtf he’s saying half the time.

Are you dumb???? Are you actually suffering from constipation????

You’re implying that you were free to help and that you knew they needed help. YOU’RE INDIRECTLY SAYING THAT YOU KNEW AND DIDN’T HELP DESPITE HAVING THE TIME TO DO SO.

While the old fart is yapping, Yugo’s face is just so 🫤😑 I’ve been staring at this panel for 2 minutes now and I love how fucking out of it he looks while listening to the cow 😭 Actually, I’m not even sure if he’s listening, I think he’s just hearing him from one ear but it all goes out on the other side. He looks like a god who’s about to squash an annoying ass ant lol

He’s literally like “is this bitch fr?”

Like Yugo is 100% confident to say that the osamodas king had no idea what the hell he was talking about when he thought his troops and he would’ve been able to fight off the necromes.

Yugo: “You have absolutely no idea what we saved you from!”

Yugo’s making that face cuz he knows the king has no clue what he’s barking about. (Also can’t Yugo just use his wakfu sensing abilities to check if Aurora is actually carrying another twelvian?? Or is he not able to do that because an unborn child does not have wakfu yet?) Little blue bro doesn’t know what necromes even are cuz Yugo never told him about them so how the hell was he supposed to know if his men would’ve stood a chance???? No seriously is this cow okay? Why is he talking? Is he talking just for the sake of talking?? Is he that self-conscious that he’ll make up lies on the spot just to protect his image??? The cow king doesn’t even know that the necromes had a leader. Yugo and Amalia are dealing with a fucking grown-ass child omg.

Osamodas blond cow: “I left because I made the promise to my dear Armand.”

This is a lie. Armand never heard of any promise. An analysis conducted by @geekgirles even indicated otherwise, supporting that the claim made by Aurora was fake. According to the analysis, Aurora was more inclined towards her family than her new life with Armand, and the claim that he made any promises to her was baseless. If you wish to read the detailed analysis conducted by @geekgirles on this matter, you can find all of it in this post.

I’ll now explain to you, in my own words, why her bullshit is hot donkey ass. Keep in mind that the whole reason why she left was to protect “the child” aka “the future heir”. As I said before, Aurora couldn’t have promised Armand anything because he knew she still held a bit too much on her osamodas family. From what we’ve seen, Aurora had the time to go back to the Osamodas kingdom to check up on them because of the eliaculus in the skies, had sided with her osamodas family during the meeting with the eliatrope goddess, had tried to marry off Amalia to one of her brothers and cousin, deliberately brought some of her relatives to Armand’s coronation to….stand around, and even keeps her father around in the Sadida kingdom when he should either be ruling his own kingdom or go back to his cave. Armand is not a moron. He knows that she constantly brings her own family to a place that doesn’t need them. So when he’s about to sacrifice his life unbeknownst to Amalia, he tells her this:

“The future is yours.”

Armand had passed the torch to Amalia.

It's worth noting that this is a crucial moment because he chooses not to pass the leadership to his own wife, Aurora. This decision is based on the fact that Aurora is heavily influenced by her family and is unable to make independent choices. At the same time, he also chooses not to give it to someone else who is just as important.

And that is the imaginary baby that Aurora is carrying.

Remember that the baby doesn't exist, and that's an important fact to keep in mind. Armand, who still loves Aurora, doesn't trust her enough to give her the leading role, or any role for that matter, especially not one that involves a child they could potentially have together. Instead, he gave the role to his sister. Aurora knows this and is fully aware that her promise to him was never even a thing. In Armand’s mind, it wouldn't have mattered if she ran away because he never intended to give her a part of the kingdom’s responsibilities in the first place, even though her getting away like that would have hurt his heart.

And Aurora is over here saying that her dad will help her lead the sadidas while she’s pregnant, girl sit your ass down no one called for you. Hoe thought she was in the same group as freaking warriors, shut up. You clearly want your father to rule for a much longer time literally wtf.

Osamodas blond cow: “During my pregnancy, my father will help me lead the kingdom…and I also count on him to train the future heir.”

It's concerning that her explanation might make sense to the sadidas. I'm not sure how she managed it, but that skank made it sound like her father would automatically assist her in ruling the Sadida Kingdom (despite them being Osamodas) since she would be pregnant and without aid due to Armand's demise. And after her baby would be born, her father would train him under his guidance to make him become strong and successful. She made it sound like a simple plan with no problems attached to it. She hasn’t even mentioned if the “baby” was an osamodas or a sadida. She only mentioned the gender, that the baby was a male (in French, when she calls the unborn child “the heir” she says it by using male pronouns).

Hey, Aurora what happens when your lie doesn’t work anymore because your stomach will still stay flat after eight months? You’re gonna tell the people that you swallowed the baby or something? That it fell down? What happens when you can’t keep up with your lie anymore?? Huh? Ever thought about that, you dumb bitch?

I have an idea, Amalia: how about you throw Aurora to the other side of the world and then try to get yourself pregnant by using Yugo so that you can also have a better reason to stay? Or better yet, you can tell her to prove her pregnancy because again, HER STOMACH IS FLATTER THAN A WASHBOARD AFTER ALL THESE MONTHS. Make her suffer from her lie and try to make her work hard for it.

You know when a dog lifts his tail and head up while he’s walking away from something cuz it shows just how sassy and confident they are? I see no difference with this crappy blue cow ‘family’ except that it ain’t cute when they do it.

They just ignored everything Amalia and Yugo said, looked the other way from every proof and situation that they were currently in, and only brought out Aurora’s pregnancy as a trashy uno reverse card, then decided to dip out before blurting out that they were gonna wait NEXT TO ARMAND’S FUCKING TREE GRAVE SO AMALIA CAN PREPARE HER STUFF TO LEAVE.

Osamodas blonde cow: “We are going to pray at Armand’s grave tree, while you make your arrangements.”

The fucking nerve to say that.

I don’t give a shit if she’s crying while saying it, this bitch is supposed to be a professional manipulator.

She and her family have no shame whatsoever. They genuinely thought they did something there. The only thing they had as “leverage” against Amalia and Yugo was Aurora’s stupid “pregnancy”. And even if she was actually carrying Armand’s kid (for whatever reason), her reason would still be shit cuz Armand already declared in his final hour that Amalia was going to take his role.

Osamodas blond cow: “Your presence here is no longer desired, sister-in-law. Just do what you’ve always done…Go explore the world!”

Like-

Who are you???

Blond cow had the audacity to exist.

Not only do we know that the royal osamodas family are liars and manipulators, but we also now know that they’re complete dumbasses for even wanting to rule the Sadida kingdom of all kingdoms. The Sadida kingdom is not built like theirs. The Sadida culture and its customs are extremely different and very much the opposite of the Osamodas since these two races are polar opposites. The Sadidas care about plant life while the Osamodas care about wildlife. It would be extremely hard for the osamodas to fully accept a culture that preaches everything that opposes what they preach. Not only that, but the Sadida kingdom is the literal embodiment of nature. If anything tries to hit its source no matter how big or small, then there would be dire consequences to the entire ecosystem of the world. The Tree of Life is such a big deal in fact that Armand even nicknames it “the lungs of this world”.

And to protect it, you not only need to be one with nature, but that also means you need a SADIDA to guard it which is a person that can literally SPEAK FOR THE TREES. Aurora you NEED Amalia, not only because she’s a Sadida, but because she’s also a royal AND has the strongest connection to the tree more than any other sadidas. You’re not just ruling a kingdom, you’re taking care of the world’s core.

And Aurora’s father doesn’t seem to understand that very important detail. When Armand reveals to him that the sadida kingdom keeps getting targeted at all times because it represents the lungs of the world, this fucking dumbass cow thinks that it’s because the sadidas are weak and can’t protect their own home which is why it keeps getting attacked.

Aurora’s father is such an idiot that he doesn’t even understand why the kingdom is so precious when he’s just been TOLD THE ANSWER DIRECTLY IN FRONT OF HIS FUCKING FACE.

At this point, even a iop would get it. BECAUSE THE PERCEDAL FAMILY ACTUALLY UNDERSTOOD THE ASSIGNMENT-

This is why imagining an osamodas ruling the Sadida kingdom is a literal death sentence. Because an osamodas, someone who only takes care of beasts, shouldn’t be able to properly take care of the sacred tree that links every single living plant in the world. For fuck sake, Aurora, why do you think they call it “the Tree of LIFE”?????

If the Tree of Life doesn’t have a proper guardian (aka A FUCKING SADIDA), then it dies. And if it dies, that means the ecosystem dies. Aurora, you dumb blond, let me explain it in osamodas language: if every green that you see outside disappears, that means that your stupid animals won’t be able to properly eat, shit, reproduce, drink, breathe, and live. And yes, Aurora that last one also means that they won’t have a surface to walk on, aka death.

You don’t have a brain because you keep listening to your egocentric manipulative fat father every time he opens his mouth and you keep making constipated decisions without thinking about the later outcomes because you think you’re in control of the situation.

The only thing you can do, and I’m being generous here by giving you a “talent”, is to shut the fuck up and sit there looking pretty. You did a good job doing that in Season 4 and I want you to do that again. And while you’re at it, go make me a sandwi-

Not only does Aurora need Amalia, the sadida who has the strongest link to the Tree of Life, but the Osamodas king also needs Yugo. I’m not sure why these blue people didn’t catch the fact that there’s a gigantic ass necrome dragon that’s only been PARALYZED and is currently standing in the fucking Sadida Kingdom’s backyard. The dragon is very easy to spot and the only reason why Yugo still keeps the eliatrope dofus on him at all times is to prepare himself for when the dragon gets out of this state. Because yes, Armand did beat him, but he didn’t kill him. Again, you are not able to kill a necrome. If the royal Osamodas family somehow takes hold of the Sadida kingdom, how the fuck are they gonna beat a fucking dragon, one of the most powerful fucking entities of this world who also had been necrofied to NEVER FUCKING DIE??? The osamodas cow king never saw a necrome, never beat a necrome, doesn’t know how it became a necrome, and doesn’t know where it comes from. Since he doesn’t know shit about the necromes, how is he gonna be able to fight a fucking necrome DRAGON?????

Sweeties, do you get it now?

Staying in the Sadida kingdom isn’t for power-hungry clowns. Staying in the Sadida kingdom means that you’ve gambled with your life more than once and you know the taste of adventure and combat. Staying there means knowing that your life can be taken away from you by either the enemies who try to take the literal lungs of the world, or the paralyzed undead dragon who can wake up at any time if he simply wanted to.

You bozos NEED Yugo and Amalia to the point where you can’t even be the ones to stay there, let alone own the place. You can’t stay there because there is so much to keep guard of, to be aware of, and to be ready for. The sadidas have practiced this dance for centuries now and they’ll keep doing it even harder because of an additional menace that is living on their grounds, the dragon being that very threat. Now, not only do the sadidas have to be vigilant of the outside, but they also have to be vigilant of the inside.

So yeah, the royal osamodas are a goofy ass family and I hate the circus.

(i love how the French commentaries on Allskreen and the Krosmoz app are clowning this family lol everyone understood the assignment)

[pinknipszz]

Hi! Firstly, I love ur headcannons and the way u characterize them, specially Lo and Neteyam. Could you do avatar headcannons of how they would be in a traditional dance festival. (Like would they be dancing, drinking, telling stories, etc.) Much love, xx

hi anon! 👩‍❤️‍👩 and thank you! i’m not really confident in my lo’ak and neteyam, but i’m so glad you like them! and that’s such a cute idea :) i hope you like my take on it. love you lots! xx

avatar headcanons | you attend a na’vi festival

⋆✮↪ neteyam and lo’ak + bonus: jake and tsu’tey

neteyam

he plays songs with traditional instruments. his favorite is the gourd drum. it's made out of the bladder from a sturmbeest his mother hunted, and he plays it at the festival. when you asked him why, he embarrassingly admitted that he’s insecure about his singing voice, so he uses the gourd drum to imitate the microtonal drone in na’vi singing. as much as you like to reassure him, you love neteyam’s musical prowess. he even dedicates songs to you.

he makes you dance with him most of the night. the festival itself is all about dancing to honor the great mother. to neteyam, dancing is one of the most intimate things in the world, and he wouldn’t do it with anyone else except you. when you first arrive at the festival in your beautiful attire, he is sweeping you off your feet. he is swaying to the sounds of the hypnotic music, taking the lead and outshining everyone else. everyone has their eyes on their future tsahik and olo’eyktan.

he shows you off at every chance he gets. when you two aren’t dancing, neteyam is dragging you around to meet his friends from training, bragging about how beautiful and kind and talented you are. in these special moments, you admire how the “perfect child” facade slips away to mess with his friends like how he does with his brother. it wouldn’t be like this under any other circumstances. you’re truly grateful to the festival and the great mother, even if neteyam teases you too. you swear he exaggerates everything.

lo’ak

he teaches other na’vi how to gamble. he learned the whole idea of gambling from his dad. he’d teach you and the other na’vi all about human games like “jackblack” and “poker” and “julepe” using makeshift cards and chips. you were really confused about the rules but eventually got the hang of it. your group of friends would bet simple things, like woven clothes or headpieces. when things aren’t looking so good for you, lo’ak would start accusing other na’vi of cheating.

he turns drinking into a competition. he technically isn’t supposed to drink, but it’s a festival so what were his parents expecting? lo’ak likes to provoke other young warriors into stupid challenges to see can who handle their alcohol the best. they don’t fall for it at first, but lo’ak knows how to push the right buttons. these usually end with a lot of empty bottles. lo’ak always wins, but at what cost? his dignity? his honor? there’s too much to count. you like to tease him afterwards.

he pulls you away from the crowd a lot. festivals can get a little overwhelming, and even the great and mighty lo’ak has his social limits. when his dancing becomes sluggish or his mind is off somewhere else, you take his hand to ask if everything’s alright. instead of responding, though, he abruptly pulls you away from the festival to spend some quality time with you. you two are silent all throughout, but you like to stroke his hair and cup his face to comfort him. lo'ak loves you for it.

jake

he’s coming up with new drinks. driven by his mysterious human knowledge, toruk makto is an artist when it comes to mixing alcohol. he just felt that na’vi drinks were too weak, so he asked mo’at if he could change things up a little at the festival. it took a lot of convincing, especially since it’s a special tradition, but she reluctantly gave in. now not only does the clan adore him for bonding with toruk, but also his excellent drinks. he doesn't even have experience from earth. he just mixes things together and prays.

tsu’tey

he babysits the children. festivals were never really his thing. he just grabs a drink and leaves. before, tsu’tey was obligated to stay for the whole duration of the festival as the future olo’eyktan. since that title was given to jake, he doesn’t even bother to show up sometimes. that doesn’t mean the clan doesn’t put him to work, though. he’s the assigned “babysitter,” as jake puts it, which is ironic since tsu’tey doesn’t know a thing or two about kids. somehow, the clan children still like him.

(masterlist)