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csuitebitches · 5 months ago

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Crafting a Personality and Capitalising on it

How do we craft a personality that is socially charming yet true to our roots?

How do we mingle and meet new people without feeling awkward or shy about it?

How do we not lose ourselves while following all these blah blah etiquette rules?

Welcome to part 2 of my Chic Girl Mentality series. 🤍

Today, we will focus on crafting a personality that is still you but better.

First, let’s talk about people in social settings. You’ll meet people who are confident, secure and socially charming. You’ll meet quiet people who may be equally socially charming or just very shy and conscious. You’ll meet the braggers and the doe-eyed followers. There’s a lot of different types of people in the world and knowing how to gracefully navigate most of them is nothing but a learned art.

People, regardless of their bank balance, are insecure of what they do not have yet. This can be looks, money, experience, lifestyle, and so on. How do we capitalise on this without exploiting or manipulating anyone?

By knowing how to tell a story.

That doesn’t mean that you need to become a public speaker or politician, it just means that you need to be able to craft intriguing stories about yourself, using your own life and experiences, to “sell” an interesting version of you socially. We’re all interesting people but only a few of us know how to say that we’re interesting without saying that we’re interesting.

Experience

People, even those with money, will always be more attracted to those who have experiences, especially, unique ones. Whether it’s travelling to exotic locations or trying new culinary destinations, or wearing unknown designers, knowing obscure artists or writers, or being at the top of your industry… experience is the most important thing to cultivate first. You already have experience. If you went to school, high school, college, joined clubs, your first job, any travelling, etc - these are all experiences.

Make a list of 5 of the most interesting experiences you think you have.

Hobbies and interests

Have a couple of lowkey hobbies that you feel enthusiastic about. Whether it’s doing some charity work on Sundays, or cooking, or pottery, whatever it is, keeping a hobby is healthy.

There should be something to you that an acquaintance can remark about: “CSB? Oh yes, I’ve heard that she’s a great dancer.”

Vulnerabilities

Certain vulnerabilities must never, ever be shared. It will 100% be used either as gossip or blackmail.

However, coming across as someone with no weaknesses is rather untrustworthy- it makes the other person feel that you’re clearly hiding something.

Make a list of vulnerabilities that are small and you don’t mind sharing. These should be vulnerabilities that will never ruin your reputation in any form but can be used as a form of bonding with empathy.

And make a list of hard core vulnerabilities you know you should never share with anyone. Keep it memorised rather than written down.

Experience + Hobbies or Interests + Safe Vulnerabilities = Personality

Storytelling

Now that you have some experience, hobbies, interests, and your “safe” vulnerabilities sorted even if it’s limited - what will make it stand out is the art of storytelling. Some storytellers can make even the most mundane experiences sound magical - it’s all in the words and delivery. There’s a reason why every Holy Book is a story, packed with lessons and morals - it’s impactful, easy to remember and recall and relatable. Craft your experiences into stories. Use those 5 experiences that you noted down and start writing them down as stories.

Take up an online storytelling class or watch videos. Start honing this skill by writing and reading good literature.

Refine your 5 experiences further. Run it through chatGPT, say them out loud and most importantly- start testing them out on people. See what makes them chuckle and what doesn’t; what makes them empathise and what doesn’t.

A famous comedian whose name I can’t remember does the same thing. He creates his set. He goes to a small pub and tries it out on the audience there. And the first set is always the first. The audience may not laugh at his jokes, they might boo him or sometimes, he might get a laugh out of them. But every time, he goes home and refines his set further. Once his set is fully refined, and he accomplishes his goal of the audience peeling with laughter at every joke, that’s when he goes on national TV / on tour etc etc.

The most important thing is to craft your stories of your experiences in a way that it delivers the value you want the person to remember about you.

For instance, if I want to be seen as creative and innovative, I won’t tell the person in front of me, “oh, I’m soo innovative and creative!”

Rather I will weave that into a story. “When I was 24, at my first job in the advertising space, we were losing clients left and right. And one weekend, I was on a trek on the mountains - it’s one of my hobbies - this idea hit me, and I suddenly knew exactly how to get our clients back. My team was hesitant about my idea, and we got a lot of pushback, but we went ahead. The night before my launch I was so nervous, I got hardly sleep. And you won’t believe it, but the idea worked! The response was fantastic.”

Let the other person come to the conclusion of you being innovative and creative. Human beings love to deduce things and jump to conclusions and provided you set the context the right way, you should be able to project the version of you that is the best part of you.

Vocabulary

A sign of a good education- even if you don’t have it - is a diverse vocabulary. I’ve always had a little more respect and awe for those who are articulate, can speak smoothly and speak confidently. I’ve noticed that my American friends, for instance, tend to talk fast with lots of filler words, and sentences tend to end with a pitch up instead of down, which to me indicates hesitation or indecision. Speaking slower, ending your sentences with pitch going down to indicate a full stop rather than up makes you seem like a refined speaker even if your subject is utterly stupid.

Body language and mannerisms, social interaction

Watch old classic Hollywood movies to really understand this - especially romantic ones. Choose ones with a femme fatale or siren-like female lead, and watch how she enraptures the male lead or the audience around her.

A combination of fantastic storytelling and body language will take you places beyond your dreams. Some of the biggest frauds, scammers, politicians, criminals are also some of the best storytellers. Humans are attracted to stories, we pick up body language intuitively, we can sense when someone is nervous or isn’t. Unfortunately the world isn’t a kind place and will not necessarily help you out of your shyness- in fact, that might just make you the best target for exploitation.

Storytelling + Vocabulary + Body Language = Your Best Personality

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hereforthehitsbaby · 4 months ago

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Now Connecting... Cooper Adams/Abbott x F!Reader

Synopsis: Maybe the mysterious stranger next door isn't as grumpy, or shy as you thought.

Warnings: Smut, Mutual Masturbation, Sex Toys, Language, Angst, Shy/Grumpy Cooper at First,

Rating: M

Author's Note: Hey, what’s that over there? *runs away*

Word Count: 3K

Tagging: @rubyfruitjungle @cherryinterlude @lilly3434 @amethystblackkchaos @rosaleelovesdilfs @babygorewhore @dirtylittlefairytales @redpillbluepill @strangererotica

If you would like to be tagged for my fics, please fill this out

Vacations are suppose to be things of relaxation, not worrying about the mundane day to day. A time where you can let loose and be who you are, without judgement or differences. No one knows you, in fact you're almost like a ghost - here one day and gone the next It's fun, really fun to be that way - seeing people that you'll never see again. There is a rush being so close to strangers you have no idea what they will do, or what they will think - seeing you as a regular walker of life. Maybe the licks of confidence could be from the establishment where you were staying, or it could be from the mysterious people who wandered the halls like zombies. Suits, dresses, cases upon cases travelled up and down those carpeted halls - the echo's of business and pleasure radiating all around. There is no telling in where life will lead you all but, for some reason you are in this exact moment together - experiencing the same ticks and tricks with one another, though you may be rooms apart. Behind those closed doors, no one understands what each other are capable of - no how could they when it is all a mystery in the end? Business may be what brings them but, was it always as cracked up as it seemed? Was it really the type of business that you thought? No, of course not, it never was and it never would be in hindsight. But at the end of the day it was never your business, just move on and go forth with your time.

Getting the down time to take this vacation was the equivalent of pulling teeth. Your employer did not want to do anything in their power to let their best asset go for a period of time, then proceeded to get mad when you did not use your vacation time. It was a shit time all around - no matter what you had done it was like there was no pleasing the higher ups in a way. Not wanting to pay you out at the end of the year but still wanting you to take it - left you more confused and let down most days. Alas everything happens for a reason - right? It is possible to imagine the happiness and smirk on their face when you decided to take some well needed time off - leaving you to the suffices of the mortal realm rather than the hell hole you were about to crawl out of. For once it felt so nice to be free from all constraints of your job and be one with reality, not having to see the numbers or statistics of the bunch haunting your dreams like a demonic entity was enticing, calling your name further and further down in the end. You felt so relieved knowing you could walk away with no strings attached; No bosses weighing you down with out of work problems, or even being on call when jackass Todd wants to call out for another sporting event, (fuck you Todd!) This was your time now, one where you can remain vigilant and carefree; A life you have been destined to have. Your paradise was going to be in the shape of the United States. Specifically, Pennsylvania.

Philadelphia wasn't your top fifteen choices but, if you didn't visit your college roommate then she would've murdered you. Ever since the two of you graduated from your master’s program it was like the tides shifted per say; She had a new swanky job working as a full time pharmacist whilst you were working a 9-5 software job - building and breaking code - essentially being like Neo, but without sentient program agents trying to kill you. All of the excitement she thought this would be for you, she wanted to hear - in typical Marianna fashion after all. You agreed of course, and yet when you did you never anticipated the fact that she could get sick - especially for this day and age. It would be okay though, in hindsight it kind of needed to be per-say.

The Embassy Suites would be your home for the next few weeks but that would be okay - everything was going to work out - it had to. In the back of your uber you watched as the blue skies molded into beauty with the sheer clouds - light speckles of greys and coal lacing the plush scenery; It would either snow or rain, a perfect lazy day in.

Disembarking from the car you waved your driver off, making sure to check out your ride whilst walking back to the hotel. Between the valet greeting you and the the concierge, you felt important, special in the eyes of strangers, a feeling so foreign to you. Out of the corner as you waltzed to the elevator's you could see the outline of a broad man; Chestnut hair in color, straight and slicked back, his jawline could cut glass. His autumn-colored sweater and mustard yellow jacket was something so basic, yet so enticing; Damn he could pull it off – he could make anything look good. Pads of boots could be heard striking the linoleum right in tandem with yours, causing your heart to race. For a moment you wished it was that mystery man residing at the check in desk with his suitcase - but then again you felt as if you were going to be too shy in the matter. Clicking the up button for the elevator you waited patiently, tucking your arms around your chest as you hum quietly. The footsteps stopped directly beside you, a pale skin form taking the same space up. Pulling your lip into a small smirk you swayed softly to this man's side, tilting your chin up to his tall form; "It's a good color on you," you spoke with sincerity, looking up at his gorgeous hazelnut eyes - wanting to dive into the journey of exploring them. Fuck, the fact that he had these little lines around his eyes when he smiled was so special - pulling you in closer as he flashes his toothy grin, the cutest gap sitting between. Nudging your shoulder with his upper arm, he spoke with conviction; "Thank you. Not as good as that blue though." The mystery man had a wink cascading over his form as the elevator doors open, his eyes once flicking to your exposed cleavage.

Following suit with his steps you pushed yourself into the metallic box after him - pressing yourself against the back corner as one does. Looking up at the numbered buttons you could see every single detail of this man's very large hands, causing you to swallow that pool of lust in your mouth; How would it feel to have his hands wrapped around your throat, or buried deep within you? Shaking those thoughts from your mind, you felt his intense gaze shine upon you - sending a warmth down your spine, noticing he was waiting for your floor number. "Uh, 15 please." You managed to choke out, not realizing how out of break you suddenly sounded. The man laughed as he nodded, clicking only the floor 15 button. "Well, looks like we are neighbors then. I'm Cooper." Holding his hand out for you, instantly you took it with a gentle grasp - shaking his hand up and down like a normal civilian, reciting your name for himself. Dropping it out of your own grasp softly, you giggled as you focused forward again, trying to keep your cool. "It is lovely to meet you, Cooper." Before he could respond, the double doors opened wide to reveal the plethora of rows where the elevators stood. Cream and burgundy colored carpeting stretched right up to the ends of every hallway, the soft material against your feet feeling like utter magic. It was a quickened shift when Cooper exited the elevator, nudging his head for you to follow.

"What room is yours?" It came out so naturally and free-falling, there was no pressure to shoo him away or even be weary of his intentions. Biting the inside of your lip you motioned to the left side of the hall, pointing to the 1500-1530 bracket, which caused Cooper to laugh. "Me too, room 1528." Your heart stopped in that moment, this had to be a fucking coincidence. "1527; Damn good job universe." It was a naturalized laugh that slipped from the mouth of Cooper, not forced or awkward in any way. It was nice to see a genuine human being after so many months of fake people coming through the wood works. The one thing that you did not like about this trek was that it was too short; Cooper and you came to your respected rooms far quicker than you anticipated. This was for certain that you would see him again - there wasn't a day in hell where you were going to let this man slip on by. Sliding your keycard over the tap screen, you sent Cooper a wink and closed the door, hearing his remain closed for a moment. There was a hefty sigh that was accompanied by thick words - ones that shot a spiral of heat into your aching sex; "Nice one Adams, way to ruin it with that cutie," Biting your lip at the phrase you pushed the deadbolt back into place, sighing out as you tossed yourself onto the bed. Staring up at the popcorned ceiling your mind could not help but wander at the thought of your next door neighbor; Those thick fingers so skilled and precise. His dialect so particular and pointed, the sways of his tongue with every syllable he annunciates. The small sweat breaking out on your forehead was enough proof that this man had taken over your mind, body and soul within minutes. The essences leaking from your clothed slit was not aiding in the fantasies.

Rolling over to your undone suitcase, you grabbed out your newest toy you managed to snag through TSA - smiling at how easy it was to conceal. You had always heard amazing things about the Satisfyer but now, getting to test it out, good lord you were excited. The enjoyment was bubbling more due to how this was app controlled - meaning anyone across the world could help make you cum. Turning on the device easily, you waited until the double buzz came to light before watching it connect - seeing the plethora of horny people piling in through your friend request. There was one specific name that caught your eye, one that really made your curious in the whole bunch. CA. The name itself was basic enough but, could it possibly be him? Curiosity piqued your interest when the message bubble came up quick after only a minute of accepting his request. Placing the air pulse hole directly onto your clit - you took deep breaths to calm yourself down, the excitement too much to handle. "Call?" The message read, causing your fingers to shake. With these apps you never really know who is behind the screen so to secure your identity, you hid your camera and mic - only planning to use it when you were so close to coming undone. Hitting that white button up top you waited and waited three rings, wondering if he would actually answer. "So, come here often?" the voice rang out, causing your cunt to become slick. It was YOUR Cooper. The smirk radiating through your mouth was enough to make a grown woman blush - devious in nature. Quickly you forked over the control of your vibe - only for it to be cancelled. It was just then that you were having the invite of mutual control, the equivalent of coming at the same time. Once you hit accept, it was over.

The slow buzzing of the vibration mixed with the soft punches of the air pulse caused your mouth to slightly hang open, accidentally unmuting yourself in the process. A softened whimper slipped through the phone as you upped the vibration a slight bit, hearing a guttural groan coming not from your phone, but next door. "Fuck sweetheart, you're so good. Faster, f-fuck faster please." The raw natured begging had you hitting another wave of arousal in no time at all, moving the device up an inch in the pink and blue - watching the gorgeous gradients melt into one another. It's when you slid your finger up to do so that you got see the camera angle of what he was seeing - his thickened cock slick with his own spit, the flesh light sliding up and down in waves onto his length. His cock was a bit darker than his skin tone but good god, you felt yourself almost coming undone just at that picture alone. "Aw, come on Cooper - be a good boy for me." You had no idea where that came from, something else possessing you in the moment. For a moment Cooper stopped moving the flesh light and flipped the camera to face him - obsidian eyes and a snarl lining the sight as you flicked your own camera on - showing him how your nipples were like rocks against the sheen of your tank top. Quickly you flipped the image to show you soaking wet cunt, dribbling onto the bed as he fucked with the vibrations quickly. "I should've known - Princess. You fucking knew how hard you made me on that elevator."

Something evil glinted in your eye as you focused on his face - how his face pulled up into an orgasmic stance, ready to blow his load. Seeing him so vulnerable and soft for you, it caused your whole body to tense. "Mhm, wish you pressed me against the walls and fucked me. Would've been screaming Cooper all day long." Toying with Cooper like this made you feel so fucking good, it was having the power over a man who was the epitome of sex in shoes that made you feel immaculate. Pressing Cooper’s flesh light up to the highest vibration and air pulse setting, you could see how his balls pulled up against his body - threatening to spill his load within the toy itself. You were not too far behind at this rate - your clit was being beaten like a drum and vibrating beyond belief. The white hot pleasure burned deep within the roots of your veins and you felt like you were going to fly. It took Cooper four good pumps before he was snarling, growling out at you - aiding you in your own release. With a quick few circular movements of your vibe - both of you were screaming in ecstasy. It felt as if a freight train hit the two of you, rocking your cores to the max level they could even ponder. Both of you were tossed from your own bodies, streaks of glistening lights flew around you in circles; Cooper’s cum shot so deep into his toy that it started to seep out around the edges. As for you, it was a quick work of drenching the bedsheets below you - thighs quivering with every passing second that you left the vibrator on your clit.

When the vibrations died down, all that could be heard across both of your rooms was panting - breathless motions as you tried to come back down from your highs. To say you both felt alive was an understatement - an outer body experience of this caliber was needed for two worry warts. Cooper was the first to break the panting silence, gulping down to alleviate the dryness in his throat. "That was...holy shit," Cooper let out with a small laugh, moaning as he straightened his back out against the memory foam mattress. You nodded in agreement due to your lack of being able to speak. The more Cooper exposed his neck and clamped his eyes shut - the more you wanted him, to feel him pulse between your legs, to ravish you for all that you are worth. So, as one does, you coaxed him forward with a proposal. Standing up from your mattress with only a tank top on, you started to glide straight towards the hotel room door, playing around with the deadbolt to catch Cooper’s attention. Like a puppy his head tilted and ears perked up, a sly smirk falling onto the corner of his mouth; "What do you think you're doing?" Cooper stated as he leaned onto his elbows, taking in the lighting against your complexion. Opening your door you quickly ran over to room 1528, knocking on the door with a grin - watching how Cooper scrambled to open the door. Upon arrival, Cooper quickly whisked you away inside - tossing your phone to the floor. Your arms came to wrap around his neck as his came to encircle your waist - not letting you go. "You ready for round two?" With that, you slotted your mouth against Cooper’s letting the door slam from behind you.

It was a fact that you would not be able to walk straight for the next four days, but boy would it be worth it. But what you failed to realize was the bug in your phone, the screensharing mode always active during your app usage. Your flight miraculously did not have anyone on it except you. Meeting Cooper wasn’t a chance, hell he lived in Philadelphia. No, it was calculated – it was meant to be. That’s because Cooper Adams didn’t just meet you – he has been watching you for months; Controlling your narrative of why you wanted to go to Philly. Your friend wasn’t sick, she didn’t even live in Pennsylvania…anymore. She wasn’t even alive at all. Just a pretty face in her camera roll, he knew you were the one for him.

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seikkoi · 1 year ago

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ꜱᴜɢᴀʀ | dom!tony stark x sugarbaby!reader ( ᴄʀɪᴍᴇ!ᴀᴜ )

ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴛᴡᴏ [1, 3, 4, 5] | ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴏɴ ᴀᴏ3

There was nothing that could keep Tony from having exactly what he wanted—and he deserved a little sweetness in his life. All he had to do was keep from ruining you in the process.

content/warnings: 18+ minors do not interact. non-canon, non-superhero au, sub/dom undertones, slight emotional/verbal manipulation, obsessive + possessive behavior, age gap (reader described as mid-twenties, t.s as mid-forties), mildly dubious consensual situations, explicit mentions of alcohol and drug use, generally not for the light of heart, rough sexual content, reader described as petite word count: 13k for parts 1+2 a/n: two weeks of brainrot later

L.A ended up as sun-kissed and vibrant as rumored, teeming with that felt like three times the people as New York. The plane ride went over smoothly, despite your nerves, although you can’t help criticizing Tony for his carbon footprint. You’re fortunate that the planning aspect is entirely in his hands, from the flight to the hotel. You knew what time to get ready and your destination, and that kept miles of stress away.

Upon reaching the hotel, a grand stone structure adorned with decorative pillars, the potential arrangements for sleeping arrangements loomed over you. The forgotten vulnerability returned, and you walked beside Tony with uneasy legs, hoping your worry was unnecessary.

To your relief, your accommodations are separate. You’re given peace of mind, chastising yourself for thinking the worst as you make the ascent in the elevator. Tony passes you cursory looks, reassuring you and assuming your nerves were travel-related.

In the hallway, Tony excuses himself to attend to some last-minute problems, apologizing and disappearing into his room. You followed suit, groaning against your wooden door as it creaked shut.

No matter how happy you were with Tony, the same thoughts resurfaced time and time again. The whispers in your head that told you the facade would melt away- warning of impending implosion. The memories of the look on his face weeks ago that brought you nearly to tears. To spare yourself the rabbit hole thinking about it would send you in, you decided to sleep it away. The event wasn’t until tomorrow anyway, and your body ached for rest.

You don’t wake till the sun’s long gone, hearing Tony’s knock at your door. A sleepy greeting slips from lips, clad in pajama shorts and tank top. Time and exhaustion fast-tracked your comfort around him, to the point that you don’t think to change when you answer.

Even though you know he’s spent the night running computations and phone calls or whatever it is he does, he looks as refreshed as ever. His three piece suit diminished to just one in that time, leaving him in just a dark button-up and pants—the most unpolished version of Tony you've witnessed you’ve seen, an amusing sight that you commit to memory.

“Hey, sleeping beauty. What do you say to dinner?” His gaze seems to fall anywhere on your petite form but your face for a moment, leaning against the door frame.

“I think everything’s closed by now.” You yawn, already thinking about crawling back into bed. The rumble in your stomach could wait, right?

Behind Tony’s back emerges a shiny bottle of whiskey accompanied by a plastic take-out bag.

“Good thing Cafe Stark is open 24 hours.”

Eventually, you’ll have to build your resolve against his infectious smile, but when combined with the mouth-watering aroma wafting from the bag, the game feels rigged from the start.

You and Tony share a relatively silent meal for once, the small rosewood table in the corner of your room serving as a makeshift dining spot. Mostly because a thousand-year nap still sounded beneficial, speaking through heavy-lidded eyes. Tony, abnormally preoccupied, seldom sets his phone down for more than five minutes at a time. As usual, you don’t truly mind it. Without fail, though, that incessant voice comes back, telling you all sorts of theories.

At some point as you're gathering the empty boxes to toss in the trash, Tony hums in approval before abandoning his phone on the dresser. Before you can ask, the whiskey is brandished by Tony.

You can see past the sunny smile for a moment, catching a glint of worry on his face.

“Everything okay?” The short glasses you bring over make a sharp clink on the aged wood.

Dark amber liquid fills his glass, sliding down his throat in one go. He chuckles at your question, finding it your concern sweet.

“Don’t start worrying about me.” He halts the protest forming on your lips with a kiss, leaning across the table and taking your hands in his.

It’s a potent amnestic, and you forget about all the alarm bells ringing in your ears.

Drunken stories and laughter fill the room for the rest of the night. You both remark here and there that sleep would be wise, yet the hours tick on.

A lull of silence falls between you after Tony finishes roaring at a joke you make about your roommate’s parents. In the hotel’s dim glow, Tony’s eyes look golden. You get lost in them for a time, lying beside him on the cotton sheets.

A few strands of perfectly coiffed hair have fallen out of place, matching his recently wrinkled button-up. There’s never a time you aren’t totally smitten with him, but the whiskey twists into want easily.

“Mind if I ask you something?” Tony looks down at you, leaning back against the headboard with warm and amused eyes.

“Sure, shoot.”

Anything to keep him looking at you like that.

“Your parents, you never talk about them, why?”

Anything but that.

Truthfully, Tony already knew the answer. The first night after he ended up in the bar, he might have done a bit of a background check on you, mostly for his own safety. But also to see what leads a girl like you to a job like that. He wanted to hear it from you, though, and knew by now that nudging you in the right direction worked well enough.

“Not much to talk about really.” The bedsheet drags against your skin when you shift awkwardly. You’re used to this question, and the hate for it only grows with each recurrence.

“Is that so?” He mutters absently, reaching down to twist a strand of your hair between his fingers.

“They died when I was young. Car accident, not much of a story.” You break away from his heated gaze, choosing instead to lay your head against the pillows. At this point, you expect the usual pitiful platitudes people say, something along the lines of I’m so sorry or that’s awful .

“I get it. Mine too. Not that young, though.” Tony adds sympathetically, sliding down onto his side next to you. He’s close enough that you smell the whiskey on his breath, tickling your nose.

“How old were you?” You can’t stop yourself from asking, as Tony seldom shared details about his family. You knew the business he ran was his father’s, and his mother’s name, and that was pretty much it. Most things he seemed to keep private, but you hoped the whiskey would help get you somewhere.

“Twenty-one, while I was in college.” There doesn’t seem to be any hesitancy in his answer, so you feel confident enough to push your luck.

“What were they like?”

“Eh, my father was kind-of an ass, wasn’t much of a loss to the world.” He says it too nonchalantly, throwing you off. You attribute it to the empty bottle.

“I don’t know if I should say sorry or congrats.”

”Either works for me.” Tony laughs, resting an arm on your side. His thumb finds the small patch of exposed skin from your shirt riding up, grazing absentmindedly. It’s distracting as ever, pulling you away from the conversation to focus on his touch.

“At least I had other people, sounds like you’ve just been alone.” He breaks you out of the daydreams you're lost in.

“Wasn’t terrible.” you respond gently, fiddling with a button on his shirt.

“Still, you deserve better.” He watches your eyes drift to the small button, searching for his own resolve. It drove him nearly mad to see you in the exorbitant dresses he buys, but lately something about you dressed down, relaxed, nearly killed him. You look angelic next to him, staring through heavy eyes, clearly in your own little world.

“‘Think I’m doing just fine.” you laugh.

“Hm, maybe.”

He doesn’t disagree completely, but knew you were built for bigger things. A good chunk of his attraction came from knowing how hard you’d worked, a quality he recognized and respected.

Contrary to what news articles say, his intellect and success didn’t come naturally. It was deliberate, hard work to do what he did. Countless hours of studying, research, testing— all to try to mimic a fraction of what his father could do. Since he was a child, Tony was dead set on proving to his father that he could run Stark Industries.

Yet, Howard was never persuaded, and planned on leaving the corporation to one of his lead engineers.

In the end, it didn’t matter anyways. He died before he could sign the paperwork.

Tony saw that same drive and ambition in you, you just needed a little help. And he would make sure it was his.

“Maybe?” you feign offense. The warm hand gracing your side loops to the small of your back.

“Think you just need someone to take care of you.”

“I might be a little too old for that.”

“Not what I meant.”

That pulls you away from his shirt for a moment, meeting his eyes with raised eyebrows.

“What do you mean then?”

The meaning takes too long to dawn on you, and Tony’s resolve feels weaker than ever. Instead of answering you, he goes to kiss you, pulling you close with the hand on your back.

There’s no doubt in his mind that he shouldn’t do this, fearing an inability to be satisfied with just that. That voice is too quiet to pay any attention to, turning the kiss long and passionate. His teeth scrape against your lip, sighing into you when he feels your body relax.

For the first time, he doesn’t wait for your reaction, pushing you onto your back. You feel his hand tighten around your thigh, wrapping your leg to his waist. You’re a worked up mess beneath him soon enough, grabbing at his side to pull him closer. His large biceps rests on either side of your head, fingers entangled in your hair.

Shaky hands reach for the belt on his waist, only to cause Tony to pull away from you completely. He holds both your hands in his, equally dazed and panting. He appears lost in thought for a moment, and you start to worry you made the wrong move.

You don’t have to worry for long, as Tony moves to the end of the bed, pulling you with him and kneeling before you quickly. Hungry lips on your bare thighs leave your head light, fingers already hooked around your shorts.

“Tony, what are you-”

“Taking care of you.” he murmurs as they slip past your ankles.

The hungry gaze washes over your center, catching your breath in your throat. You don’t get the chance to respond—a heavy tongue gracing your folds. Tony moans at the taste of you, reverberating up your spine. He hates that he made himself wait for this—every sound from your mouth worsening the strain in his pants.

Your tensing legs are tossed haphazardly over his shoulders. You expected the same tenderness he always granted to you, but this is entirely different. He grips your hips rigidly, wrapping his lips around your clit and pulling you as close as he could.

His ears focus on each moan, how the pitch in your whines heightened when he sucks hard on the aching bundle of nerves. A large, flat hand across your stomach gets you to lie back, hands flying to the dark locks tickling your thighs.

He’s obviously making up for a perceived loss of time, increasing intensity with every swipe of his tongue, your arousal coating his mouth. It sends your body into overdrive, hands reaching for him, searching for any kind of reprieve.

Tony knows he’ll never get enough when your breath turns low and stuttery, fingers digging into the back of his nape and the hand bruising your hip. You lose sense of what sounds are coming from Tony and which are coming from the mess between your thighs, mixing into a symphony of ecstasy in your ears.

He unlocks a new melody, the addictive sound of your broken, pleading cries calling out his name. He wants to tell you how fucking incredible you sound, but that would require stopping and there’s no chance he was doing that.

You try to tell him to slow down, the arousal in your stomach building faster than you have time to process. It’s a wasted effort, having any attempts at forming full sentences ruined by the tongue lapping at your entrance.

You feel an approving moan shake through your core, thighs growing stickier. He could feel how close you were, hips shuddering in his grasp. He only grips harder in response, holding you still as you jerk against his tongue. Without warning, the tight bundle in your gut reaches its crest, and Tony gets lost in the river of filth that leaves your mouth.

You’re foolish for thinking he’d stop there, but instead his lips return to suck gently on your clit, moaning into you. Just when you think you might pass out from the overstimulation, he pulls away to grace your inner thigh with light kisses.

Tony reclines, captivated by the dazed look on your face and the soft panting of your lips.

You sit up to face him on unsteady arms, your hazy eyes revealing that there's only one thought on your mind— him , just how he needed it.

The earlier worries become ironically useless, as you sleep beside Tony that night.

The next evening’s celebration unfolds on a quiet street, a hidden gem thankfully only hosting around twenty or thirty people. The ambient lights of the quaint club aren’t dim enough for you to ignore how underdressed you are. Envisioning a more formal dinner, you dressed simply in flowy olive dress, while other attendees exuded glamor in fancy suits. Tony of course being no exception, donning a dark gray suit and black shirt. Tony seemed unphased by the music and dancing, walking in and greeting people without pause.

On this particular night, Tony has a singular mission — to keep you in his sight at all times. More accurately, to prevent you from engaging conversation with a select few individuals without his presence. It's not just about showcasing you; it's mostly protective, an attempt to mitigate the risks involved in intertwining you with this side of his life.

Nearly anything seemed worth having you by his side. It’s a good weakness to have, he thinks. He swears it’s because you make him a better person, and though you always laugh it off and tell him he was already great, it’s another thing that gnaws at the back of your mind.

You're introduced to several of the guests, some names vaguely familiar, others entirely new. Natasha Romanoff stands out, her presence seeming to be the most grounded in reality. It becomes apparent that she is another member in this new endeavor of Tony’s. When you ask what she does for a living, she responds with business, and nothing more. Worse, when you ask about the other members, Natasha shoots a cautionary glance at Tony and smoothly redirects the conversation, leaving a sour taste in your mouth.

For the most part afterwards, Tony’s mission is a success. He does his best to stay tethered to you, dodging boring conversation after boring conversation. Despite his vigilance, the forces of nature are ineffable, leading you to the bathroom after a few champagne shoots.

He’d only looked away for one second , he swears, but all it took was a moment to lose track of you.

Upon your exit from the restroom, you decide to get ahead of your hangover. You catch the bartender’s attention at the bar instead of finding Tony. As you wait for the glass of water, your eyes scan the room to find him. Instead, a tall rugged blonde man takes over your view, sliding into the seat next to you. You pay him little mind, still scanning for Tony. Piercing blue eyes won’t leave you though, even as you thank the bartender and continue to search for the billionaire.

“What’s a pretty young thing like you doing with an old bastard like Stark?”

His words stop you in place, turning on your heel.

“I’m sorry?”

The smirk on his face is cold, unnerving. You don’t recall meeting him earlier in the night, and you're certain you wouldn’t have forgotten. He shifts in the barstool, facing you as he sips from his glass before laughing dryly.

“Forgive me, you just don’t like the kind of girl Tony normally parades around. Unless merchants of death are your kind of thing. And you’re definitely not the escort type.”

“Excuse me?”

This only humors the man more, and worsens your thoughts.

“What,” he continues once he’s done laughing at the look on your face. “It’s a compliment, really. Tony’s girls normally overdo it with the makeup, it’s a dead giveaway—”

“No, what do you mean ‘merchant of death’?”

“Oh, come on, you—” he responds patronizingly, “Shoot, is this your first night? He might not have told you yet—”

“Told me what ?” You don’t have the energy to explain to this guy that you aren’t getting an hourly pay for this.

There’s too much fun in it for him to drag this out, even though he knows his time alone with you is both costly and limited. He makes the decision to laugh again and down the rest of his glass before answering you.

“Don’t tell me he picked a dumb one. At least Pepper had a brain between her ears?”

“Who’s Pepper?”

The stars are aligning perfectly for him.

“His wife?” he fakes a puzzled expression, making you feel oblivious for not knowing.

As you stand there shocked and confused, your eyes catch Tony walking steadfast towards the bar.

“See, they do this thing, ‘fight, cheat, threaten divorce, make up, repeat’ cycle. It’s amusing most of the time, just shocked to see someone like you in it.”

Across the room, Tony’s blood starts to boil.

He’d caught the look you gave him, a confusion-ridden disgust that he couldn’t place until he saw who you were with. He left whatever suit was yapping his ear off, pushing through the small, crowded space. He can’t do anything but curse himself for being so careless—unfortunately, he’s not fast enough, watching Steve’s mouth open like a floodgate.

“You’ve got to be kidding me, Rogers.” He speaks through gritted teeth, fists balled at his sides. He takes over the small space between you two, and over his shoulder you see the blonde man lean back in apparent satisfaction. There’s no point in asking what was said, Tony can guess well enough.

“ What ?” Steve responds, a dramatic shrug of the shoulders follows.

Steve's cold smirk adds insult to injury, leaving Tony torn between the desire to break Steve's jaw and the fear of you never seeing him the same.

The carefully, thoughtful plan he had for you is in disarray, thanks to Steve. You weren’t supposed to know about Pepper for another month, maximum. He planned on taking you to the gallery and telling you, but that chance was robbed from him.

It felt entirely unfair to him, having his dirty laundry thrown at you without any context. To prevent creating a bigger hole, though, he turns back to you. You’d spent the last minute wrapping your head around everything said. You felt almost physically sick, but mostly stupid for ignoring everything sooner. All that security you felt last night? Gone in a flash.

“You have to let me explain this—”

“I want to leave.”

Tony sighs, figuring it wasn’t the worst you could have said, but hates hearing the tone in your voice nonetheless. So, stubbornly and more than pissed, he leads you away from Rogers to the exit, and tries not to think about how you recoil away when his hand graces your back.

He tries speaking to you in the car, to no avail. You're too busy beating yourself up for being so stupid. You had fallen for it, the charm, the gifts, the mystery— it worked brilliantly and earned you nothing but hurt in the end. Just like you feared it would.

A second attempt in the elevator wins him no prizes either.

There’s a third attempt brewing when you reach your floor. You had barely looked at him, and each time it felt like being stabbed. You didn’t see a point in talking about anything, making a beeline for your door. You imagined yourself packing, leaving in the morning and never seeing him again. Go back to the life you were supposed to be living, not this fantasy with him.

It’s not a plan of action you accept happily, and either way you don’t get the chance. The expectant sound of your hotel room door shutting behind you never comes, stopped by Tony’s leather shoe in the wooden frame. There wasn’t a chance in hell he was letting you shut him out. He could read your face the entire way back, seeing your full intent to leave without another word.

“Just go away.” You want to sound angrier, but defeat is the only emotion you muster.

“You’re overreacting.” He declares, voice bouncing in the empty hall.

“Really? Am I?”

You’re shocked when the door is pushed open fully. The space you try to take back by stepping away is overtaken. Tony shuts the door behind him, harsh enough to make you jump a bit.

“You are.” Tony’s hands disappear into his gray suit pockets, looking down at your alarmed frame.

“And you’re married.” Another step back, only for Tony to step forward again.

“Do you see a ring on my finger, hm?”

“That’s not the fucking point.” One more step back, in vain. The feeling of being trapped screams at you, but doesn’t move your body. “What else have you lied about?”

“I have never lied to you.”

That seemed more believable than anything else. The small breadth of space you gain is taken once more. You don’t move again, knowing the wall wasn’t far behind you. It pissed you off even more to see his jaw clenched, staring at you as if you were having some tantrum and not rightfully upset.

“Then who’s Pepper? How many other women are you toying with like little playthings? You’re an arrogant, asshole, liar -” you spat, letting your anger surpass his own.

Tony moves closer, and you end up against the wall regardless of your efforts. You start to tell him off again, a rant cut short by a hand grasping your face, and another pining your wrist to the wall. Your heart quickens, squirming against him.

“You’re starting to offend me, honey.” he says lowly, the warmth of his breath spreading across your face. His dark eyes don’t leave you, and you have a sense this is worse than throwing a drink in someone’s face. He was growing tired of this recurrent debate from you. Many adjectives could be used to describe him—arrogant, hot-headed, selfish, but disloyal wasn’t one— and he considered it a disrespectful thing to insinuate.

“You,” he trails off, thumb shifting down to your throat. “—are the only one. Pepper and I have been done for a long time. Steve knows that.”

“Did she leave after she got tired of you sleeping around?”

‘ Did Steve care to mention how Pepper cheated first? How she threatened to sell me out if I left her? Of course not ’, Tony thinks.

More panicked, harsh words of doubt and inquiry leave you, but they’re quickly shushed by Tony. You know you shouldn’t but you feel a familiar guilt for the disapproval clouding his face. You don’t have the foresight to see that you were right for making them.

“You wanna call me a liar? What exactly have I been dishonest about, huh?” The question is clearly extremely rhetorical.

“If you were just some ‘ plaything ’ to me,” he mocks, the hands on the side of your face tightening, electrifying your skin—not enough to hurt, just enough to keep your eyes on him. “We wouldn’t be here, you should know that.”

“Then why keep it from me?”

You don’t even know how to ask what Steve meant by ‘merchant of death’, and honestly, you don’t think it’s worth making things worse. You hate that it’s this easy for him, hate the conflicting feelings—his touch melting your anger. It’s no help that you didn’t want any of it to be true anyway.

“If I decide you don’t need to know something, you don’t. Simple as that.”

In Tony’s mind, this was for your benefit in the long run, and he doesn’t see a need to explain that. You should just trust him, or atleast you did before Rogers’ opened his big fucking mouth. His anger is mostly placed with the blonde man, but he still expects better from you. He couldn’t have you believing others over him. You’d already expressed doubts about his loyalty before, and he spent a lot of time repairing that.

Leave it to Blondie to ruin it all.

To his dismay, you remain silent. He pictures the inner-workings of your mind, doubting everything he’s done to win your trust. The hand against your throat and arm keeping you in place might not be helping his case, but still they remain. He can’t fathom letting go, not if there’s even a slightest chance you’ll leave.

“That’s applied to almost everything in your life so far.” There’s fear in poking the proverbial bear, yet you do it anyway. There’s too many thoughts battling in your mind, causing the words to nearly catch in your throat.

“What is it you need to believe me—to know that you’re mine?” His voice shifts, remaining stern but turning heavier. He releases your arm, moving to grasp the green fabric at your side.

There was obvious disdain between Tony and the man at the bar, giving you deniability to add to his claims. You started to think it was more likely he knew which buttons to push, to put you at odds with each other. Maybe you were getting entangled in corporate politics you didn’t understand without Tony. This was your mistake, just like before.

The words overheat in your mind, warming your skin and wreaking havoc on your thoughts. Some tell you nothing would change it, that you wanted to give up on this. Others, louder, tell you anything would win you over, that you were looking for any reason not to. The mental gymnastics start anew, but end with the same conclusion.

You want to chastise yourself for how willfully you fell back into his eyes, angry and want-ridden. The confidence you had earlier about leaving becomes a difficult feat to manage, overtaken by every screaming aspect of you that urges you to stay. Tony didn’t know it then, but he got what he wanted regardless of the wrench thrown by Steve— you, right in the palm of his hand.

He expects a genuine answer, one you don’t have. So, in typical fashion, he decides for you.

Tony considers it your fault for what he’s about to do, staring back at him with doe-eyes and flushed skin. Plans are built to be changed anyways—and he clearly needed to send a stronger message.

Without warning, you’re pulled by shoulder the short distance from the wall to the nearby chaise, resting in front of a high mirror. You question Tony, to no reprieve, pushed forward onto your knees. In the reflection, you watch his arm snake around your body, returning a rough hand to your throat, bringing your back flush with his chest- his other hand tight on your hip.

“ Relax ,” he whispers against your ear, and chills run up your spine.

“Tony-” you start, trying to twist in your position to look back at him. It’s a useless effort, large arms easily keeping you place.

“Eyes up,” he instructs, and your attention is directed forwards, meeting his eyes in the reflection.

The olive dress is bunched to your waist, witnessing his hand teasingly graze along your thigh before disappearing under the cascading fabric. It stops there a moment, fingers dancing at the hem of your panties. Desire stirs in you with little prompting, Tony’s lips trailing down your neck nipping gently.

“Don’t you see what I see—how pretty you look, doll?” he stays locked onto you, holding you steady when you jerk against his hand folding behind your underwear. Soft fingers draw slow circles on your clit, pulling a gasp from your mouth. “—why would I need anyone else.”

It’s pure filth, watching your own body react to every movement in the shadowy room, every bite against your heated neck. Tony’s quiet declarations only dampen your mind.

“You’re perfect, ” His voice drops lower, increasing his pace as the hand on your neck grows firm. “—just for me.”

There’s static in the air, surrounding your limbs. The obscene picture in front of him sets every nerve on fire, watching your hands reach for his arm, watching you try so hard to not fall into the obscenity in your ear.

Gravity is indiscriminate, so you fall nonetheless. The heavy fingers tease your wet entrance, only to retract and circle your clit before returning for more. It’s all soft and light, barely as much as you need. You turn desperate before you know it, focused on the flex of his bicep in the mirror with every stroke.

Unfortunately for you, this wasn’t really about pleasure. This was about trust. He needed that, for you to know how consumed he was by you. He’s certain you can feel his hard member pressing into the back of your thighs, a heated, heavy reminder that you were all he wanted. You must know— based on the wetness pooling in his hand and your eyes centered on him.

“All mine .”

You cry out when a finger surpasses your entrance. You watch it be cut off by the hand at your throat, gripping harder to keep your noises at a minimum. There’s no resistance, wet and desperate enough to suck him in completely. The hand bruising your hip rocks you back onto his fingers.

All those questions you had, about Pepper, his work, Steve—they’re gone. Disintegrated in the same heat that coils your stomach. Moving away from Tony’s sickeningly slow ministrations isn’t an option, trapped between his body and his tight hold.

“I should put that rude little mouth to better use.” Tony whispers, free of any reason to hold himself back. You felt undervalued, fine. He’d see to it that’d never happen again. He’d let you hear just how badly he wanted you. He needed that same look in your eye from last night. The one that shined for him and only him.

He doesn’t take the stutter of your frame as a reason to slow down, only a reason to push you over the edge. The finger inside you is joined by a second, curving into you. The lace of panties is soaked through, a dark patch spreading to your thighs. You can’t focus on the mirror any longer, shutting your eyes tightly as you reach your peak—softly rushing through you as Tony’s praises flood into your ear.

He doesn’t let go—large arms wrapping around you until your breath returns to normal. You open your eyes to meet Tony’s lustful eyes reflected back to you.

“Still having doubts?”

Tony’s patience was completely run through, the short fuse sparked to unrepairable levels. Again, he thinks it’s mostly your fault. He had no issue treating you like gold, but he only thought it right that you at least trusted him.

You give a quick shake of the head, panting and watching the hands around you leave. You turn and sit in the chaise facing him, his jaw still clenched.

“Good.” he responds slowly. Eyes rake over you beneath him, with Tony imagining a hundred more ways to have you moaning his name. He finds the willpower not to act on them, instead turning for the door.

“You should rest.” He says before you can find the right words to say, door shutting behind him.

Sleeping proves difficult—thoughts overwhelmed with Tony being a room away. There’s also Pepper and Steve floating around your mind, though never for long. Before you can give way to thinking about it, you inevitably end up catching a glimpse of the mirror in the corner—and everything Tony said plays in vivid sound. Then, an unbearable warmth pools in between your thighs, causing your thoughts to be consumed by him again.

The frustrating cycle repeats for hours.

Finally, you decide you’ve had enough, leaving your suite and winding up in front of Tony’s door. He answers on the third tap of your fingers, clad in tight black briefs. You have enough clarity to keep your eyes from focusing on that, or the exposed sculpted chest.

“Can I come in?” You feel pathetic for the way you ask, but it’s worth it, because he steps aside for you to enter.

You walk across the large room, sitting on the end of the unmade bed. Tony stays in the middle of the room, arms crossed in front of his body, waiting.

“You said I don’t need to know everything but,” you start, only growing more anxious when Tony raises an impatient eyebrow. “Pepper, what happened there? Why have I never heard of her before? At least tell me that.”

Tony sighs, contemplating if the distrust in your eye is worth possibly pushing you away for good. You’d see through any bullshit he tried to sell, not that he would make something up anyway. But, it’s for that reason that he knows he won’t get away with telling a half truth. He decides to take it as a sign that you’re still here, in his room, and that you still didn’t leave.

“We were married, she cheated.” He decides to omit his own revenge cheating. He considered their relationship done at that point anyway, just took him too long to realize.

“So, you’re divorced?”

“Not exactly, it’s complicated.” He sighs again. “But we are not together—in any capacity.”

You want to ask what exactly is complicated about signing a piece of paper, but you leave well enough alone.

“Then why not tell me?”

“I wasn’t sure you’d stay if you knew. Couldn’t risk it.” It’s mostly true.

It comes out soft and heartfelt enough for you to believe it. Besides, so many parts of you didn’t want to be upset with him, for any reason. You didn’t have the will to end things, and you didn’t want to find it either. You stare at the floor, trying to process this new aspect of him. His shadow moves across the floor, coming before you to caress your face.

“You don’t need to worry, doll. “ Tony murmurs, trying to get that last little drop of doubt out of your mind. “You’ll always be mine, and I’ll always take care of you.”

part three

#mcu fanfiction #tony stark x reader #tony stark #avengers fanfiction #seikkoiwrites #tony stark smut #marvel fanfiction #tony stark x you #tw dubious consent #tw dubcon

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cinnajun · 1 year ago

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ᵕ̈ ೫˚∗: zb1's beige flags

a/n: i tried to make these as beige as possible … cause sometimes people say “beige flag “ and it’s just a blatant green/red flag LOL hope u enjoy :)

notes: yujin is included this time, but it’s absolutely 100% platonic because i didn’t think this inherently implies romance. so his is PLATONIC!!!!! VERY PLATONIC!!!! also i plagiarized some of these from tiktok, will share links at the end :)

wc | 1.5k

jiwoong’s beige flag is traveling with him. i feel like he travels like a father, so he’s waking you up at 2 in the morning for a flight that isn’t until 7 in the morning. he picks the cheaper parking lot that’s next to the airport and makes you take a shuttle when you could’ve just paid $3 extra to park in the airport parking lot. he goes to starbucks and only gets ice water so you can fill up your emptied bottles. he’s angry the entire time but he still manages to crack a terrible joke to the flight attendant. he panics while you wait for your bags at the baggage claim. he makes you wait in the huge line for the rental car shuttle (where you have to go through three rounds of it leaving and coming back before you can get on) rather than just getting an uber there “because it’s cheaper.” at least you arrive at your destination. godspeed soldier 🫡

zhang hao’s beige flag is that there is always something wrong with him. this man has never been at 100% in his entire life. he always has a headache, or his stomach hurts, or he’s tired, or his arm hurts, or his back hurts…the list goes on. even if you’re carrying extra strength advil, antacid tablets, and one of those little tissue packs, when one issue is resolved, something else begins. the worst part is, when you think everything is fine, you’ll point it out like “oh! you’re not complaining about anything!” and then he’ll give you a look, saying “oh i have a headache right now.” once he felt like he had something in his eye for 3 days straight, but no amount of washing it out or eye drops got rid of the feeling. if he’s not ill or in pain, he’s asleep. you wonder how he got as far as he did when he’s never felt completely okay ever in his life.

hanbin’s beige flag is that he’s entirely unaware when other people are flirting with him. he automatically assumes the best in everyone and he’s got tunnel vision for you, so the idea that anybody is flirting with him is outlandish. you could be standing right next to him, steam coming out of your ears while you force a smile, and he’ll be none the wiser as the person talking to him playfully punches him in the shoulder. on top of that, he’s even more shocked when you point it out to him—he’ll say, “babe, they were just being nice!” and then you have to explain that asking for his number so they can get to know him better is not just being nice. then he gets all offended when you call him dense as if he didn’t entirely miss the heart eyes he was just receiving.

matthew’s beige flag is the fact that he does not question anything. you could tell him that you got a new job and he’d go “oh, cool!” and never ask what exactly it was. your parents once told him that you were a really awful child assuming he’d want to hear more, and he said “makes sense” and never brought it up again. it gets even worse when he tells you things about other people, and when you inquire, he can’t give you any more info. he’ll say “oh, they got cheated on” and you ask who and he has no clue. and it’s not even like he’s uninterested, he just doesn’t think to inquire about anything, even if he’s curious. the idea barely even occurs to him. he didn’t even know where his mom worked when you first started dating, and you asking during your first meeting was the entire reason he found out. you’re considering calling him and telling him that you’re going to prison or something just to see if he even asks why.

taerae’s beige flag is that he cannot explain anything to you without giving you 5 minutes minimum of background information. sometimes it’s over the most mundane stuff too, like him searching for a specific item at the grocery store. he will explain how he had trouble parking before going in, and how he got distracted by the fruit section, and how he had to ask an attendant…all to let you know he didn’t find what he was looking for. once he spent 20 minutes explaining matthew’s life story to tell you a 2-minute long anecdote about how he ran away from a crab at the beach screaming. the worst part is that, whenever you’re on a long drive, he is telling you stories like this the entire time. but he gets mad at matthew every time he mentions the word “story” like YOU ARE A HYPOCRITE KIM TAERAE!!! 🙄

ricky’s beige flag is that he cannot get dressed without your input. you would think this man was a 3-year-old who’d never picked out his own clothes in his life. if you’re not with him, he will facetime you, and if you don’t answer, he will not get dressed until you call him back. this might be endearing except for the fact that, if he doesn’t like your input, he will tell you to pick something else, and ricky can be picky with what he wears. when you ask him why he can’t just pick himself, he says something along the lines of “if you don’t think i look good, then what’s the point.” he has been late to hanging out with you because you didn’t wake up early enough for him to comfortably get ready (with you on the phone). if you spend the night, he will WAKE YOU UP solely so he can get dressed. at least people have said they think he’s started dressing better since you two started dating 😭

gyuvin’s beige flag is the fact that he never hears anything you say. he isn’t ignoring you (although there was a period of time where you thought he was ignoring you), he literally just can’t hear you. one time you were hanging out, you fell in his backyard, and spent so long screaming his name that the neighbor came over and ring the doorbell to ask if you were all right. you have to repeat everything for him. sometimes you have to text him what you’re saying because he cannot decode it. the only time he can hear you without fail is when you’re on the phone. the worst part is that, after a while, he decided he was going to go to the doctor about it and they told him that he literally has trouble hearing the frequency of your voice, so it’s an unfixable issue. you’re stuck like this for the rest of time.

gunwook’s beige flag is that everything you do has to be planned to a T. there is no spontaneity whatsoever when you hang out with gunwook. if you ask to hang out, his first response will be “to do what” and I Don’t Know is NOT an acceptable answer. it can be something as simple as “let’s watch a movie” or something as intricate as “let’s take the train to the beach and go searching for fun shells, and then we can take a scenic bike ride afterward,” there just has to be a plan. when gunwook makes plans for the both of you, he sends you a time-blocked itinerary and he will get a little upset if things go off schedule (but he won’t get angry and ruin things for you). he gets anxious when there’s not a set thing you’re supposed to be doing. at least his plans are always lots of fun!!!

yujin’s beige flag is that he goes days without contacting anyone. he just falls off the face of the earth every 3-4 months for a few days and everyone freaks out in his wake. it starts with gyuvin calling you like “yujin DIED” and then you spend an hour and a half convincing him yujin isn’t dead. then another day without any proof that he’s alive passes and suddenly YOU’RE believing yujin is dead. then you call gunwook, who also hasn’t heard anything, and he calls ricky, who ALSO hasn’t heard anything, and suddenly there’s a groupchat where you’re discussing the likelihood that he’s gone forever. then he posts on instagram and pretends like nothing happened. he doesn’t understand why everyone’s so glad to see/hear from him, either. he even had hao worrying like yujin please don’t do this ever again 🙏

thank you for reading !

tags: @happysmileybee @wtfhyuck

tiktok links: zhang hao, matthew, taerae

#cinna.zb1 #zb1 x reader #zerobaseone x reader #zb1 fluff #zb1 scenarios #zb1 reactions #zb1 crack #jiwoong x reader #zhang hao x reader #sung hanbin x reader #seok matthew x reader #taerae x reader #shen ricky x reader #gyuvin x reader #gunwook x reader #PLATONIC!! yujin & reader #req

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lionheartlr · 8 months ago

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Expand Your Horizons: The Ultimate Guide to Travel Books and E-Books

Embarking on a journey to distant lands doesn’t always require a passport. With the turn of a page or the tap of a screen, you can explore the world through the vivid imagery and captivating narratives found in travel books, e-books, and audiobooks. Whether you’re seeking inspiration for your next adventure or looking to immerse yourself in the cultures and landscapes of far-off destinations,…

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bookworm551 · 2 years ago

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The Great War | Part 2 | Neteyam Sully x Omatikaya!reader

Summary: You and Neteyam were childhood friends, always looking out for each other, but when the Sky People returned, neither of you could have anticipated the way it would affect your relationship with one another.

A/N: First off, I just want to say that for everyone who enjoyed the first part, I want to give y’all a lil kiss on the forehead. I definitely got carried away (again), so I split what was going to be part 2 into parts 2 and 3, so I’ll have the next one up real soon. Also, in case you can’t tell, I firmly believe that Neteyam’s love language is physical touch. Hope you enjoy!

6.1k words

Warnings: canon-typical violence, angst

Part 1 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

It was ten days before you were allowed outside the camp again. Though you had tried to get out sooner, you were under strict orders to rest from Neteyam and (more convincingly) Mo'at. You were bored out of your mind most of the time, but Tuk had been very sweet to visit you in her abundant free time. Kiri had also taken it upon herself to become your designated healer, much to Neteyam's comfort.

He had visited as often as he could. It was sweet, but you couldn't help but feel like he was hovering somewhat over you. He treated you like you were going to shatter if you so much as stood up. You knew he was just being cautious, but you were starting to feel suffocated in the tent.

Now, you had been given the all-clear to travel out into the forest for the first time. Your side still ached if you stretched too far, but for the most part, you felt fine. You still experienced headaches as a result of hitting your head against the crate, but you didn't want to be coddled any more than you already had been, so you didn't say anything about them.

Walking amongst the vibrant plants, you breathed in the fresh forest scent. It was refreshing to be in an open space after lying for so long in the dimness of the healing tent. You had no real destination in mind as you walked about, you just wanted to get out of the village. Besides, Kiri agreed that stretching your legs and being in the sun would do you some good after your days spent inside.

"Don't overdo it," she warned you as you pulled yourself over a large boulder. Your side ached dully, but you ignored it. "You sound like Neteyam," you called out over your shoulder. "I'll be fine." You heard her chuckle behind you. "If something happens to you, he'll skin me alive," she said.

You rolled your eyes. Even Kiri could see the overprotectiveness of her older brother. It was true though; he would be upset if something happened, which was why you didn't tell him you were going out.

"I want to go up," you told your friend as you stared up at the light dappling the leaves overhead. Catching up to you, Kiri followed your gaze at the canopy above. "We can go slow," she conceded. "But you have to tell me if you're hurting. If something happens, you're going to be back in the healing tents for another 2 weeks."

That was incentive enough for you to be mostly honest with her, but it was hard to be completely truthful when admitting you were in pain just made you feel weak. Before you could start climbing, however, a figure emerged from the brush nearby.

"What are you doing?" Neteyam asked as he caught sight of you up on top of the boulder you just climbed. You huffed in mild exasperation. Of course he was here. You had deliberately left while he was out to avoid his concerned objections.

"Getting some fresh air," you stated simply. "Care to join?"

He shot you and Kiri a look of disapproval. "You should not be climbing," he told you sternly. "You could reopen your wound." You sighed at his warning. You were starting to become annoyed by his constant caution. It was just a few days ago he protested the idea of you walking around, so you knew that at every milestone, you were going to hear some sort of resistance from him.

"She is doing fine," Kiri defended you. "I am with her to make sure she doesn't strain herself." Neteyam, you could tell, was still hesitant to let you out of his sight. "I'm just going around to stretch my legs," you said. "You can come, but you can't stop me from going."

He sighed and shook his head, but you were pleased by the small smile that tugged at his lips. Pulling himself up to where you and Kiri were standing, he said, "I don't think I can stop you from doing anything." You smiled back at him. "I'm glad you see the truth," you replied triumphantly.

The three of you pressed on through the foliage together. It wasn't long before Kiri became distracted by the beauty of the forest. You always found her endless wonder endearing. "How did you know we were out here?" You asked Neteyam as Kiri strayed away from the two of you.

"Tuk," he responded simply. You huffed out a sharp breath, peeved at the betrayal of the youngest Sully. He smirked at your reaction. "She didn't mean to tell," he explained. "She was complaining to a friend about how my grandmother made her stay behind to help her instead of going with you, and I just so happened to hear."

"I see," you replied solemnly. "Then I suppose she is forgiven." There was a brief pause, and you could feel his eyes on you. Meeting his gaze, you saw that he looked a little crestfallen. "You do not have to hide these things from me," he told you gently. You glanced away in discomfort. It wasn't that you were trying to hide things from him, but you just wanted a little break from his constant oversight.

"I know you're worried," you began carefully, "but sometimes, it feels like you are too worried. I am strong and healing well." You gestured to the laceration, now a large scab, that traced across the right half of your stomach. His eyes fixed on it for a moment before he blinked hard and looked away. You caught his moment of discomfort and sighed.

The both of you carried on walking in half-awkward silence. You pulled yourself up onto a large fallen log that was obstructing your path and leaped down onto the lower ground, the impact sending a jolt of pain across your stomach, but you managed to stifle your reaction.

"Did that hurt?" Neteyam asked. Okay, maybe you didn't manage as well as you thought.

"Just a little tight," you dismissed. He looked at you with a concerned gaze, evidently not believing you. Taking a deep breath, you turned to face directly in front of him and grabbed his broad shoulders with both hands. You held him for a moment and stared up into his eyes.

"You are too worried," you told him after a heartbeat. "I am not going to break. I need you to trust me when I say I am fine." You looked up at him pleadingly, keeping your hands resting on his shoulders. He gazed down at you softly with a small sigh. He brought his hands up and wrapped them around your forearms.

"I'm sorry," he said gently, rubbing his thumbs softly back and forth across your skin. "You are right, I am worried about you." You smiled faintly and corrected him, "Too worried." He rolled his eyes before nodding. "Alright, too worried," he conceded. "I will stop."

You nodded your head gratefully. "Thank you," you said, dropping your hands from his shoulders. Neteyam smiled at you, then made an exaggerated thinking face. "Well," he began reflectively, "I will never stop worrying about you. How can I not worry about you when you do stupid things all the time?" You rolled your eyes and shoved him playfully. He laughed.

"And you never listen to me!" He continued as you turned and started walking again. "How am I not supposed to worry?" You couldn't help but smile at that. "I do listen to you," you argued, "when you say something worth listening to."

After that day, you noticed Neteyam's overly cautious behavior diminish. Occasionally throughout the week, he would catch you wincing when you stretched your right arm up too quickly, or he would notice how you rubbed your temple when a migraine hit, but respecting the boundary you set, he never said anything.

A few days after your walk in the forest, you were invited by a handful of your tribesmen close to your age to join them in a morning hunt. You were extremely grateful for the chance to get out and do something more than wander around aimlessly with Kiri. For young adult Na'vi, hunting and foraging were sort of social events amongst friends, so you were eager to join.

As the sons of the Olo'eyktan, Neteyam and Lo'ak were also invited to come with the group. Besides the two Sully boys and yourself, there were three more in the party. Getting ready to go out, you could see the look of unease on Neteyam's face, but he said nothing until the rest of the group made their way toward the edge of the ikran rookery.

"Why don't we go on foot?" He asked. Everyone paused and looked at each other, mildly confused. "Why would we do that?" Lo'ak asked the question everyone else was thinking. Neteyam's eyes shifted to you uneasily, and you clenched your jaw, expecting him to call you out in front of the others.

"Isn't your ikran injured?" He asked you. It was a cover, and you knew it, but at least he didn't outright mention your injury as the reason for wanting to hunt on foot. You gave him a warning look. "I checked on her yesterday. Her injuries have healed nicely," you told him, emphasizing every word of your last sentence pointedly.

He understood your passive statement and held your stare. As subtly as possible, you gave him a look that said, Don't you dare. A beat of tense silence passed between you before he looked away and nodded. Taking your eyes off of him, you looked over at Lo'ak. His eyes were awkwardly glancing back and forth between you and his brother, one of his human-like eyebrows raised. He clearly caught the silent conversation you just had, and you felt your ears warm in embarrassment.

Walking into the rookery, you each called out to your ikran. Kazi descended before you, and you gave her an affectionate rub on the crest of her jaw. Her wings had indeed healed nicely in the time since the accident, and you were eager to take to the skies with her again. You could feel Neteyam's eyes on you as you checked the cinching of your saddle, and when you glanced over at him, you could read the apology on his face.

Huffing out a little sigh, you looked away. Sometimes, you wanted to stay mad at him, but he always made it so hard.

You attached your queue to Kazi and mounted onto her back. The six of you took off of the ground and rose over the trees. Feeling the rushing air around you made you realize just how cramped you've felt since your injury, and you couldn't help but give a few whoops of glee.

The sun shone brightly overhead. Even though you loved the feeling of its warmth on your skin, being in the brightness after spending so much time in the dimness of camp caused your head to hurt some. It didn't help that after 2 weeks of resting, your body wasn't so used to the physical demands of flying anymore. The tension in your core and thighs to stay balanced caused your breathing to become labored after a while, which didn't help with the onsetting headache.

Finally, the group swooped down to a clearing in the trees. There, you dismounted with the rest of the group and tried to hide your breathlessness. Taking your bow and a few arrows, you joined the others in descending to the forest floor. Given the time of year, you were all familiar with the migration habits of the deer-like yerik and knew there would be several in this area.

Jumping down from branch to branch gave you a rush of adrenaline you had been missing for so long. While still in the trees, you and your companions laughed and chatted together. Mekar, one of the hunters among you, was talking about the last mission the war party had flown just a few days prior. "Too bad you were taken out by a human," he told you with a laugh. "You could have seen how much damage we did."

His comment burned. It was embarrassing enough having to be on bed rest for so long, but it didn't help that everyone in the clan was aware of it, too. Already peeved by Neteyam's earlier attempt to coddle you, Mekar's words pushed you deeper into your irritation.

"That's not funny," Neteyam told him sharply. Being the son of Toruk Makto, his words held a lot of weight, so his quick reprimand shut down the other hunter. You moved in irritated silence, thinking about how you've been set back by your injury.

One of the worst consequences of your accident was that you were not able to conduct the Uniltaron trial at your designated time. The Dream Quest requires much mental and physical strength, both of which were affected by your injury. You were keenly aware that you and Lo'ak were the only ones in the group who had not completed the trial, though Lo'ak had nearly a full year left before he was eligible.

Your group finally reached the floor of the forest. You felt out of breath, and you could feel your heart beating hard in your chest which was making your head pound. Taking a few steadying breaths, you closed your eyes for a second, trying to ignore your migraine. When you looked up, you could see that your friends had already started to move in one direction, so you quickly sprinted after them.

You all moved in silence, looking for signs of a nearby herd. Lo'ak found it first, a single hoof print in the dirt. You all followed his lead, and soon enough, you could all see a large gathering of yerik through the foliage.

Lo'ak got first rights to the herd. He made a quick, clean kill of a buck, but as expected, the whole herd scattered as it fell. You all shot after the fleeing creatures, but Mekar was the only other hunter to catch one in the haunches, moving in swiftly to make a clean kill with his knife.

As you and the others gathered your arrows, you noticed a chittering noise in the distance, the sound of a forest hen. Perking up, you listened closely and turned in the direction it came from.

"There are forest hens over there," you told your friends, pointing in the direction of the noise. They listened attentively until another chittering noise echoed quietly in the distance. "Yeah," one of the other hunters, Meya, began, "but I would rather stay on the yerik." She pointed at where the herd had run off in the opposite direction of the forest hens.

The rest of the group deliberated until you all agreed on a strategy. Lo'ak and Mekar would take their kills back up to their ikran and try to find more quarry, Meya and the other member of the party, Nazátu, would pursue the herd, and you and Neteyam would go after the forest hens. You would all reconvene back at the top of the canopy by the time of high noon.

You and Neteyam set off in the direction of the forest hens. You were grateful to separate from the others since you felt that you didn't have to hide just how out of shape you were in front of Neteyam. You both kept a brisk pace through the brush, moving as silently as possible.

"You seem to be holding up well," he commented. "I should not have doubted you earlier." You smiled gratefully at him. "My head does hurt a little bit," you admitted. "But otherwise, I feel fine."

It was a half-truth. The whole truth was that your head hurt a lot. The pounding in your head hadn't diminished as you had hoped, but you refused to let it affect your ability to hunt.

You both reverted to careful silence as you stayed alert for the sounds of the hens. There were a few silvery feathers you found on the ground to encourage your tracking, and you carried on quickly in the direction they led to. You were eager to get this hunt over with now that your migraine had settled in deep into your temples.

A flutter through the trees caught your attention, and there a few yards ahead, you finally saw a flock of about 10 fowl-like creatures. Some were on the ground, but a few were walking along some low-hanging branches. Forest hens were bulky and had limited flight capabilities. They could be found scratching at the forest floor or low tree branches to eat any insects they could find.

Coming up beside you, Neteyam motioned at the ones on the ground and then pointed at himself. He was telling you that he would aim for the low ones while you could go for one in the branches. You nodded and notched an arrow. You aimed for the fattest bird you saw, and in sync, both you and Neteyam shot and hit your targets.

In a frantic flurry, the remaining hens took flight higher into the canopy. You managed to reset an arrow on your bow and shoot another one down as it was flying off before it could disappear with the rest of the flock.

Stepping out of your cover, you and Neteyam retrieved your quarry and arrows. "Looks like I'm beating you," you teased. He rolled his eyes at you playfully. "Show off," he muttered, tying his hen onto his hip. "Let's keep after them." You hesitated. Now that you had a prize to bring back, you were anxious to leave. You didn't want to raise any concern from Neteyam, but your migraine was really starting to get out of hand. Though you'd been having bad headaches since your accident, this was by far the worst one.

Despite your pain, you nodded at his suggestion wordlessly. You slung your hens over your shoulders and trekked after your friend. It didn't take you long before you caught up to the flock again. Aiming again, you both shot at the birds, hitting them cleanly.

As before, the rest of the flock scattered. This time, Neteyam got another shot in and took down another hen. He gave you a cheeky smile. "Now we're even," he said triumphantly. You tried to smile back, but your head was pounding painfully, causing you to falter.

He noticed your wince. "Is everything okay?" He asked in concern. You closed your eyes tightly for a moment and nodded. Looking up at him, his gaze was full of worry. You thought about what you had said to him in the forest a few days prior. I need you to trust me when I say I am fine. Well, now, you weren't so fine, and you felt you owed him your honesty.

"My head hurts," you admitted quietly. "It really, really hurts." You ground your teeth in pain. "Like an arrow through my head."

Setting his bow down, Neteyam put one hand at the base of your neck and looked into your eyes with care. "How long has it been hurting like this?" He asked with worry. You thought about it for a second. "It started when we left the village," you confessed, "but it did not get bad until we started tracking the yerik."

You waited for a lecture from him on how you should've told him sooner, but it never came. "Do you get them a lot?" He asked gently. You nodded reluctantly before clarifying, "Usually not this bad, though." He gave a small nod, and you could see all the concerned thoughts in his head, but he didn't say any of them. Instead, he lifted his hand from your shoulder to briefly cradle the side of your head. You leaned into his touch and sighed as the pain pulsed in your temples.

"Let's go," he said softly as he dropped his arm back to his side. "We can try to find Lo'ak and Mekar to let them know we're leaving." You nodded, disappointed in yourself for not being able to withstand the headache. How were you supposed to return to fight if you couldn't even manage an easy morning hunt?

Picking up your kills, the two of you headed back in the direction of where your ikran were waiting. The journey back up to the top seemed longer than you remembered, but maybe that was just the fact that going up is harder than coming down, especially with a raging migraine. Eventually, you found yourself at the top, but neither Lo'ak nor Mekar were anywhere to be found.

"Are you okay to go by yourself?" Neteyam asked. "If we both go, the others will think something has happened." You nodded. "I know, I'll be fine." He didn't look happy to let you go alone, but you took off on Kazi, leaving him behind as he watched your figure disappear over the trees.

When you made it back to the village, you immediately headed over to the healing tents, but to your sore disappointment, neither Mo'at nor Kiri were anywhere to be found. You thought about asking around, but you didn't want anyone to know you were in pain, and your pride won out as usual. You looked in one of the many baskets lying around the tent and found a bitter plant root that you knew would help you fall asleep.

You took and ate it as quickly as you could and washed it down with water. Then, you made your way to where your encampment was situated. You laid down on your sleeping mat, curled into a ball, and held your head until the root took effect, and you drifted off into an uneasy sleep.

Waking up, the pain had diminished significantly. You propped yourself upright and drank some water you had stored. Exiting your tent, it didn't take long before you found Neteyam, Lo'ak, and the others from the hunting party sitting together skinning their game. They must have returned not long ago, meaning it was just past high noon.

"Hey," Lo'ak called out as he noticed your approach, "you feeling alright?" You looked at Neteyam sharply. He subtly shook his head, silently telling you that he hadn't told them the reason why you left. "Yeah," you replied casually, "my body just isn't quite used to all the activity yet, so I came back early." Lo'ak nodded understandingly, and the rest of the group seemed to find your excuse acceptable. You shot Neteyam a grateful look, and he smiled softly.

"These are some nice birds," Meya complimented, nodding at the forest hens you and Neteyam had hunted. "Thanks," you replied sincerely, sitting down to clean them. You all worked to prepare your own game, talking and laughing in easy companionship for the rest of the afternoon.

Three days later, you were invited back to participate in the war meetings. You were eager to prove yourself again, and even more so to destroy as many humans as you could. You felt confident in your abilities, especially since you hadn't had even a minor headache since your hunting trip. There were a few reconnaissance missions that you flew with no action, but after gathering enough information, the Olo'eyktan believed it was time for another offensive attack.

You sat and watched as Jake outlined the plan for the next attack on the Sky People's weapons containment center. After a detailed description of the plan, Jake finished up his briefing with a nod and, "Dismissed." You all stood up together, and you started making your way toward Neteyam.

You called out to him to get his attention. He turned towards you, and you jogged to catch up to him. Approaching, you noticed the bizarre look on his face. He seemed startled out of deep thought. You couldn't deny that Jake's plan seemed bold, but you knew that you and the other warriors were more than capable of carrying it out. You opened your mouth to say something, but you noticed that Neteyam was looking past you at someone.

"Hey, can I talk to you for a moment?" The voice of the Olo'eyktan was right behind you. You whipped around to face your leader in surprise. "Forgive me," you said respectfully and stepped out of the way to allow him to speak with his son.

"No, no," he said to you, glancing at Neteyam for a moment before looking back at you. "I want to speak with you." You felt your stomach tighten with sudden anxiety. "Oh," was all you could say. You glanced back at Neteyam, but he already had his back turned to you and was walking away.

"Listen," Jake began, "I know you are eager to join the party, and you are a fierce warrior." You felt your stomach sink with his words. It seemed that he could see the anxiety on your face because he sighed and glanced around in discomfort. "I think it's best that you remain behind," he said finally.

You felt your heart drop.

"What?"

Jake sighed again. "I need you to stay behind," he repeated. You shook your head faintly. You felt dazed, and your head started to ache for the first time since the hunt. "I am healed," you insisted urgently. "And my ikran is as well." He looked at you unconvinced. "I am well!" You repeated, gesturing to the fresh scar on your stomach.

Jake shook his head. "Listen," he said in a low voice, "I know what it is like when it feels like your head is going to split apart, okay? I know how it feels, and I know how distracting and debilitating it can be in a moment of action."

You were paralyzed, unable to say anything.

"You are a great fighter," Jake repeated, "but I need you to be all there when we fight. Any other condition and you become a liability to yourself and the others."

You felt like your chest was tightening. "No," you whispered desperately. "I can still fight." Your throat tightened as you fought off tears. Jake looked down at you regretfully. "I'm sorry," he said resolutely, "but I have made up my mind. If you are suffering from migraines, you should stay back."

You looked up at him in confusion. "But how..." you trailed off in the middle of your question and your blood ran cold.

Only one person knew.

The realization hit you like an angstik. He told. He told.

You looked away from the clan leader and stared at where Neteyam was just standing moments ago, trying to process what you'd just heard. How could he do that to you? The pain of Neteyam's betrayal quickly turned into boiling anger that filled your chest. Jake placed a hand on your shoulder in an attempt to comfort you, but you felt numb. "I'm sorry, kid," he said, but his words fell on deaf ears.

"Am I dismissed?" you managed to ask finally, not able to look the Olo'eyktan in the eye. "Yes, dismissed," he answered. You turned and walked away. For a moment, you walked aimlessly away from the war council, all your focus was directed at not crying in public, and the effort it took increased the intensity of your headache. The very thing that prevented you from fighting for your people.

With that thought, your hurt, confusion, and anger narrowed in your mind to point at one person: Neteyam. You broke into a brisk sprint towards his family's tent. You didn't think about what you would say to him or what you would do if his other family members were present. You didn't even really have any thoughts, just rage.

You burst into the tent. There he was, looking to be in the middle of packing some of his supplies and speaking to someone. When he looked up at you as you entered, his expression immediately turned to guilt. The sight of him caused tears to refill in your eyes, which just made you angrier.

In a flash, you crossed the floor of the tent and shoved him as hard as you could. He stumbled back but quickly regained his balance. "How could you?" you seethed. You had meant to scream it, but you were afraid that your voice would betray you if you raised it above a whisper. Neteyam raised one arm in front of him between you as a pacifying gesture, his fingertips a hair's breadth from your collarbone.

"Kiri, would you please give us a moment?" he asked the other person in the tent without looking away from you. You gave Kiri's sitting form a quick glance before returning your glare to Neteyam, but it was enough for you to see the startled expression on your friend's face.

"What is going—"

"Now," Neteyam punctuated with force.

Without another word, Kiri hurriedly stood up and walked out. With his sister gone, you smacked his raised arm away from yourself. You were fuming and didn't even know where to start with your anger. "Your father has grounded me from the mission," you told him and pointed an accusatory finger at him, "because of you."

Neteyam clenched his jaw and took a deep breath before speaking. "It is for your safety. If you are not well, you should not be flying during a dangerous miss—"

"I am well," you interrupted angrily. "I am well, and I can fly during a dangerous mission. You had no right to tell him what is not your concern. You have no right to interfere with anything." Your voice was getting louder now, the white-hot anger you felt in your chest burned in the words you spoke.

Neteyam scoffed quietly and looked at you with a scowl that would have chilled you if you hadn't already been so angry with him. "You are not well," he countered in a low, hard voice. "I saw you hunting. You were in so much pain, you couldn't even manage to focus on the trail. How is that supposed to make me feel knowing you wished to return to battle?" He gestured loosely to the entrance of the tent as though the battle was right outside.

"That was one time, Neteyam!" you shouted at him in frustration. "And now I can't join the mission because of a headache I had on a hunt." "But it was not just one time, was it?" he retorted in an accusatory tone. "You have had migraines since your accident, but you have been keeping them secret from everyone."

"No, I should have kept them a secret from everyone," you spat, tears returning to your eyes. "But I was a fool and told you instead. I trusted you." He flinched slightly at your cutting comment, but he didn't back down. "You have become a liability to yourself and the other warriors," he stated matter-of-factly. "I did the right thing and told my father to inform him of your weakness.

Weakness. That stung worse than anything he could've said to you.

Immediately, Neteyam realized what he had said. "No, I did not mean to—"

"Is that how you see me?" You cut him off quietly, voice filled with pain. "Weak?" You felt a single tear overcome all of your effort to withhold it and slide down your cheek. Neteyam shook his head apologetically and took a step toward you, but you took a step back away from him. "That is not true," he insisted gently. "I did not mean to say that."

You wanted to believe him, but memories of his behavior flashed through your mind over the past few weeks, and anger and hurt stirred in your chest. "But it is true," you accused as you glared up at him, wiping the tear off your cheek in anger. "You have been treating me like a helpless child ever since we invaded the Sky People's base."

Neteyam clenched his jaw and looked away from you in frustration. You continued yelling at him. "You have been consumed with a desire to control my every move ever since. I shouldn't wander too far into the forest alone. I shouldn't climb too high into the trees. I shouldn't ride Kazi anymore." With every sentence, you felt your anger and frustration melt into hurt and sadness, and you could feel more hot tears falling from your eyes. "And now I cannot fight anymore. I cannot fight because you think I'm weak!"

"You almost died!" Neteyam shouted.

You started and stood in mute surprise in front of him, all of your anger replaced by pure shock. He had never yelled at you before. After all of the strain that your relationship had been placed under, the snide comments, the frustrated arguments, he had never once raised his voice above an angry reprimand, and honestly, it was frightening.

"You almost died!" he repeated, still shouting. "And I could do nothing! Nothing!" His chest was heaving, and he glared down at you with so much anger and pain, it made you take a step back. He noticed the step, and it seemed to bring him out of his emotional outburst somewhat. He turned away from you and paced a few steps heatedly around the tent. You watched in mute shock.

"I cannot let you go too far into the woods alone or climb too high or ride your ikran because every second you are out of my sight, all I can see is the image of you bleeding out, unconscious, on the ground." You could see the tension in his whole body, his hands balled into fists at his sides as he spoke. He looked over at you after a moment, and you saw the anguish on his face as he recalled the memory. "I thought you were dead," he whispered in a taut voice. "And that was the worst moment of my life."

You were so overwhelmed that you couldn't stand to look at him anymore. Now, amongst the betrayal and anger you had been feeling, guilt stirred in your stomach, leaving the taste of bile in your throat. This was too much. You were feeling too many things to think rationally or come up with an argument. And your head hurt so much.

Neteyam heaved a regretful sigh, his own eyes shining with unshed tears. You had never seen him cry before. He crossed over to you, and even if you had wanted to back away, you felt rooted to the spot. Coming in closely, he grabbed your face with both hands. For one breathless moment, you thought he was going to kiss you, but instead, he just held you and stared at your face longingly.

"I do not think you are weak," Neteyam muttered finally, breaking the tense silence. "But you...you are my weakness. I am sorry I betrayed your trust, but I cannot see you harmed again. I will not allow it."

You didn't say anything. You couldn't say anything. You had reached your emotional limit. Your heart ached as you took in his image. He was strong and stern and beautiful, and you wished again for the millionth time that the war had never come to your home, had never come between you.

You sighed finally and shook your head. "You do not get to decide my fate for me," you said flatly, pulling away from his touch. "You do not have the right." Without waiting for an answer, you walked out of the tent.

Right outside, Kiri, Lo'ak, and Tuk were sitting together. They had obviously been listening to your fight, and the way they scrambled to stand did not make them appear any more innocent. You sighed and turned the other way, not wanting to talk to anybody at the moment. Kiri called your name, but you ignored her and walked away as quickly as you could.

The siblings stood in the darkness for a moment, embarrassed at being caught eavesdropping. Then, Lo'ak decided to go in and check on his brother. He walked in cautiously and found him with his eyes squeezed shut as he rubbed his forehead in exasperation. Hearing Lo'ak enter, Neteyam looked over at his brother with a burning glare.

"Bro, what did you do?" his younger brother asked with concern. Neteyam let out a deep sigh. After a second, he responded, "The right thing." Lo'ak was unconvinced, and so was Neteyam.

Part 3

#neteyam sully #neteyam angst #neteyam x reader #neteyam fic #avatar the way of water #avatar #loak sully #kiri sully #atwow #neteyam x omaticaya!reader

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