#but instead I wrote about two sentences into each

[buckera]

I wanted to finish the puppy fic today but instead I started a new wip... it's just that I'm at the smutty bit and that's the part where I need to know what I wanna write before I do it and I'm kinda drawing a blank (or more precisely I didn't have enough time to be at peace and alone to figure it out yet)

[delulujuls]

tinder buddies | ln4

hi! i have no idea how to comment on that. i've got inspiration from the rumors that are now going on twitter and tiktok about lando and his activity in sm and i thought man, i need to write something in this narrative because sexting with him??? scuse me??? but of course all of this is fiction and and i dont have any statement on the rumors about lan, mostly because all of these are rumors and not facts. anyway, pls leave his poor papaya ass alone and enjoy this instead!

summary: when you met your tinder buddy irl and realize how indeed world is small

warnings: masturbation on cam (both male and female), bit of swearing, in general alott of sexual tention

pairing: fem!journalist!reader x lando norris

Y/N thought that she was good at what she was doing. She thought that despite her young age she fit in the world of motorsport really well. Sometimes it even crossed her mind that she was no different from her older colleagues, what's more, sometimes she even thought that she was better than them. However, she admitted this only to herself with complete modesty and behind tightly closed doors.

Apart from the fact that Y/N was a really good journalist whose career was growing at a surprising pace, at the end of the day she was just a twenty-two-year-old girl who, like many other twenty-two-year-old girls in the world, had her smaller and bigger sins.

Y/N breathed heavily as she entered her hotel room. She set her suitcase and bag aside, taking off her shoes and plopping down on the bed. It was well after midnight, her flight was delayed by several hours and she was simply exhausted by the passing day. Even though she was excited about the events that awaited her in a few hours, right now she was just tired. However, she knew perfectly well what would help her relax before going to sleep. Not so much what, but who.

The girl unlocked her phone and easily found the Instagram icon, clicking on it and going straight to the messages. She entered the first conversation and was about to write some prosaic message, but she didn't have time to type out half of the sentence when a new message appeared in the chat.

"u up?"

Y/N smiled to herself. It looked like she could count on a pleasant end to the day.

"I was just about to ask you the same thing"

The reply message appeared a moment later.

"i was waiting for you to be available. i thought the evening would be wasted"

"And yet you see, surprise"

The person on the other end smiled and untied the drawstring on his sweatpants. He quickly wrote his answer with one hand.

"wanna call?"

"I think you know the answer"

She smiled and reached for the switch and turned off the light, pressing the camera icon with her other hand.

Y/N and the boy she had been messaging with for a little over a month knew next to nothing about each other. She had a private account and a few photos, he had a black icon and an empty profile. He only knew her name, she only the first letter of his. They met on Tinder, their profiles there looked quite similar. She has a few photos, more of the body than the face, he has the same, mostly in black and white. They had never seen each other's faces, but they knew each other's bodies inside and out.

Y/N placed her phone on the table and leaned it against the lamp, which she turned on a moment later. The light from it was dim, but it illuminated her body enough. The angle her phone was at only showed her from the neck down. She was perfect at maintaining her privacy.

"New background?"

He asked, seeing that the surroundings behind her were different from those he had seen before. She pulled her sweatshirt over her head, leaving her in only a bra and a thin t-shirt.

"I'm away from home"

"Work?"

"Too many questions"

There was quiet laughter on the other side. He liked her temperament. He liked her curves even more and the sounds she made when, at his command, she pushed her fingers inside her and brought herself to orgasm. Yes, he liked that too.

"Yeah, you're right. Strip."

Y/N pulled the t-shirt over her head and her interlocutor saw a red, lace bra that he never seen on her before. He smiled and ran his hand over his crotch. He felt a chill run through him.

"You look good, baby. Red suits you"

She laughed and pushed her hair behind her shoulders.

"Is this the first time you gonna tell me to keep my bra on?"

"For now, yes. I'd love to look at it for a while" he squeezed his cock and began to lightly massage it through the fabric. "You know what to do, dont'cha?"

Y/N bit her lip and lifted her hands, placing them gently on her shoulders. She slowly moved them down her body and when she found her breasts, she slowly started massaging them in circular motions. She closed her eyes and tilted her head slightly, hearing the sigh that came from her phone. He watched her carefully, following her every move.

"Take it off," he said after a while, "It's pretty, but I think I prefer you without it."

She quickly took off her bra and threw it aside. He smiled at the sight of her breasts. Y/N returned to them, continuing their massage. As she lightly pinched her nipples, she moaned softly. His cock vibrated at the sound that came from his headphones. He smiled.

"Does it feel good, baby?"

"Mhm, yeah" she answered, looking again at her phone "But you're playing unfair again. I have to see you too."

He chuckled and shook his head.

"You don't let me enjoy you"

He replied and put down the phone, quickly pulling his shirt over his head. He fell back on the pillows and turned on the light on his phone. Y/N smiled at the sight of the familiar, slightly tanned and toned torso. Her interlocutor didn't see it, but she smiled even more when he tightened his hand on his cock, which was now clearly visible on the gray material of his trousers.

"Take off the rest of your clothes and lie down"

He ordered. Y/N obediently lay down, taking off her pants and underwear. When the rustle of fabric could be heard on the other side, he easily freed himself from his pants and tight, slightly damp boxers. He spat on his hand and spread the saliva over his cock, feeling it tighten under his touch. Fuck, what he would give if instead of his hand it was this tiny hand that disappeared between the pair of thighs he saw on the screen of his phone.

The girl complied with his command and he saw her middle finger slowly sinking inside her, only to come out after a while covered with her juices.

"Fuck," he muttered under his breath, "You're so wet, baby."

“I wish you were here and licked me clean.”

Y/N said, rubbing her clit. She felt that she wouldn't need much to reach orgasm.

Her interlocutor smiled under his breath, but she wasn't able to see it.

"I'm afraid that i would make you even more wet."

"Someone has quite an ego here"

"I know my capabilities, baby."

She snorted under her breath and made herself more comfortable, inserting her finger into herself again. First one, quite slowly, and soon she added another one. A long moan filled the hotel room as she began to move them, imagining that it was not her but him who was fucking her. And not with his fingers, but with his wet, hard cock.

"Yeah, just like that, baby. Keep going."

His eyes carefully followed the screen and the activities taking place on it. His hand moved smoothly over his cock, his lips were slightly opened. As he was stroking himself, the glass of his watch on his wrist reflected the light from the phone. He wore it every time they cam together. Y/N didn't know anything about watches, so she didn't know what brand it was or whether it was expensive. They never talked about it, honestly, they basically never had a normal chat. However, he once asked her about the tattoo on her forearm, just below the inner bend of her elbow. He noticed it after the first time they met on camera. When it was all over and they were about to hang up and return to their real lives, he asked about it.

"What does 33 mean?"

He asked when the girl started getting dressed.

"What?"

"Tattoo on your arm"

The girl looked at her forearm and only then did she understand what he was asking about.

"I can't tell you because you'll make fun of me"

Hearing this, he smiled. Not because there was probably some stupid story behind it, but because the girl was concerned about not looking bad in front of him. Even though they absolutely didn't know each other.

"I barely know your name, I don't know why I would make fun of you."

Y/N was silent for a moment, glancing at her tattoo and lightly stroking it with her thumb.

"Do you know Formula 1?"

He smiled and nodded. His reaction, however, was beyond her reach.

"I know a thing or two"

"My favorite driver drives with this number. Well, actually he did, now his number is 1. But for me it will still be associated with 33"

The girl explained. She felt a bit embarrassed to expose herself to him, especially with something like this. However, he did not laugh at her or comment on her confession in any negative way.

"I have a friend who is also involved in motorsport and has the same number. Actually, not anymore, because he also had to change it. But for me it will also be associated only with 33"

Y/N smiled at his words. Sometimes she wondered if they could become friends and get to know each other a little better. But then she decided to come down to earth and remind herself that she had no time for relationships or friendships. Now the most important thing for her is work and career, everything else can wait. After all, no one will satisfy her as much as herself. Right?

"Fuck, I could fill you so good, baby," he moaned, gasping for breath. He felt that he was only seconds away from orgasm "You have no idea how much pleasure I would give you."

The girl's lips were opened, her eyelids were shut tightly. She massaged her clit with her left hand and moved the fingers of her right hand inside her in quick, uneven movements.

"I'm about to- I…oh my god-"

“Yes, baby, thats it" he gasped, speeding up "Cum for me.”

She felt a wave of pleasure wash over her. The moment her back arched, she heard a long "fuck" coming from her phone. He came shortly after her, staining his toned abs with his sperm. He squeezed his eyes shut and tilted his head back, trying to calm his breathing. There was silence on both sides for a moment, neither of them moving an inch.

After some time, Y/N sat on the bed and reached for a tissue, wiping her hands on it.

"I have to go now. I have a lot of work waiting for me tomorrow."

"Me too. I wanted to let you know that we may not be able to have a call tomorrow."

He answered, also wiping himself.

“It's okay, no big deal,” Y/N replied and took one last look at the muscled, tanned torso visible on her phone screen, “Good night. And good luck with your chores tomorrow.”

“Good night, baby. You too.”

She smiled and reached for her phone, ending the call. Exhausted from the previous day and the evening cam session, she just buried herself in the blanket and shortly after fell asleep. The next day, when her alarm went off, she was full of energy despite several hours of sleep. She couldn't wait for saturday's qualifying and all she was thinking about as she was getting ready was whether she would be able to get good material.

As she put on her red bra, she smiled involuntarily as she remembered last night. She wondered if he had already gotten lost in the whirlwind of his today's duties. Y/N quickly got dressed, gathered her things and, putting her pass around her neck, left the hotel. When she got to the track and was in the paddock, she couldn't think about anything else. Her only thoughts revolved around what was going to happen on the track in a few dozen minutes. However, for a split second she wondered what her tinder buddy actually knew about Formula 1. Maybe they could have something to talk about? Maybe she could even take him to some grand prix?

Her thoughts disappeared when she noticed Lando Norris hanging around the McLaren garage. The girl asked the cameraman to prepare the equipment and she would ask the Brit if he would be willing to have a short conversation. She squeezed the microphone in her hand and without thinking, she approached him, introducing herself and asking if it was possible to record a short conversation.

Hearing her name, his heart did a flip. He knew that name very well.

"Sure, no problem"

He replied with a smile, obviously not revealing himself, and ran his hand through his hair. The glass of the watch strapped to his wrist gleamed in the sunlight. Y/N had seen this watch before. Many times.

The girl smiled back and, hearing his agreement, gave a thumbs up to the cameraman. When she raised her hand, the sleeve of her shirt rolled up, and Lando's eyes involuntarily caught the tattoo on her forearm. A slight 33, just below the bend in the elbow.

He felt a sudden wave of heat wash over him. It's a coincidence, right? It must be.

"How's your mood before qualifying?"

Y/N asked, putting the microphone down and straightening her shirt. As she was arranging her collar, Lando's eyes caught a glimpse of her red bra strap. He smiled to himself and looked down. He wondered how many accidents and coincidences had come together in the universe and resulted in this situation.

"What? Something wrong?"

The girl asked, not knowing what made him react like that.

He shook his head and after a moment looked up again. He looked at the girl carefully. However, she was completely lost and looked at him questioningly.

"Sorry, as you can probably see, my mood is great. I'm positive about today's qualifying."

Y/N tentatively gripped her microphone. When the cameraman approached them, they started recording the footage and she had no time to analyze Lando's strange behavior. In fact, it was possible that this was their first and last conversation ever, so why should she care about it. When they managed to record a short material, Y/N thanked him and wished him successful qualifications. After that everyone went their separate ways.

Immediately after entering the garage, Lando found his phone buried in a pile of his things. He quickly entered his latest conversation on Instagram and, without thinking, decided to send the girl a message. Worst case scenario, he'll just make a fool of himself, which isn't a big deal since they don't know each other at all. At best, he would spend tonight as he had long dreamed of.

"ure even prettier than i thought, baby."

Y/N felt a vibration in her pants pocket and without thinking, she unlocked her phone. She was surprised to see a notification coming from Instagram, and she was even more surprised when she noticed who sent her the message. After reading it, she felt a cold sweat break out on her. However, she decided to think and act soberly.

"How do you know what I look like?"

"turn around"

Lando replied quickly and leaned against the threshold of his garage. The girl clutched her phone in her hands and obeyed his command with her heart beating wildly. Lando smiled at her, holding his still unlocked phone. Y/N felt a lack of saliva in her mouth. It's impossible, it's not really happening.

"Are you sure we're looking at the same person?"

She replied, having difficulty pressing the appropriate keys with her fingers. He was amused by her reaction. This whole situation didn't make sense to him. It was crazy.

"im looking at a pretty neat journalist with a mad bunda who has a tattoo with my friend's racing number. and u?"

Y/N blushed. Fuck. It's him.

"I see that your jumpsuit is a little tight in some places."

Lando snorted under his breath. The girl wasn't lying. The whole situation made quite an impression on him.

Y/N bit her lip and looked up. She'd be lying if she said it wasn't arousing.

"u know exactly why its tight"

"I guess I have to find out in real life. The camera likes to lie."

When she sent the message, she looked up again and their eyes locked. The Brit winked at her and quickly replied, turning on his heel and disappearing into the depths of the garage.

"my driver's room in five minutes. ill be happy to dispel your doubts"

[lucysarah-c]

Levi's horrible flirting skills part 6.

Masterlist link to all the previous parts.

“I simply do not understand… we were talking so well and all of a sudden—!”

“You called her stupid.”

“And naive,” Hange added after Erwin, almost tired, while taking a messy sip from his tea, not bothering to raise his head properly.

Levi clicked his tongue, running a hand through his hair and almost tugging at it out of frustration. “I was just trying to tell her I was worried about her!”

“You’ve a very peculiar way of expressing your concerns,” Erwin remarked, raising one thick eyebrow at his friend's illogical actions. Unlike Hange, he raised his cup to his lips with elegant, measured movements.

“UGH!” Levi bent over the table where they should have been having a tactical meeting, but instead were having a catch-up moment as friends. His forehead hit the polished wood covered with glass, and he scoffed against the surface in frustration, fogging it up.

“You should have known,” Erwin said softly, shaking his head with closed eyes as if the outcome was easily predicted, like a palm reader foretelling your life. “When a woman asks you to repeat something, it’s not because she hasn’t heard you. It’s because she wants to see if you have the guts to say it to her face. That’s the precise moment you should buckle up, fold the imaginary paper where you wrote your speech, smile, and say, ‘nothing, honey.’”

Hange frowned deeply, even curling her lip in disdain. “Since when are you such an expert on how to keep a woman?”

The blond put down his tea and looked at the squad leader, almost offended. “Excuse me, I had a very long relationship with Marie before we broke up. I learned a trick or two.”

“Whatever, I fucked up and it’s all wasted now,” Levi said woebegone, his cheek resting on the surface and his eyes looking to the side, completely bereaved. He couldn’t complete a single sentence without clicking his tongue or sighing in resignation.

“Oi! Come on, shorty! You just have to go and apologise. Don’t be such a coward,” Hange tried to raise her friend’s spirits.

“Yeah… but give her a couple of days. Let her cool down a little bit,” Erwin added, fearing that Hange’s enthusiasm might cause Levi to make another mistake.

But perhaps waiting a couple of days became weeks. Between work and each time he tried to lock eyes with her, she either completely ignored his presence or didn’t seem particularly happy.

While it was still freezing cold, certain trees began to bud, and the sun warmed more than usual on some days. Early one morning, he saw her again, walking on the front sidewalk with five friends, each holding something from a nearby pastry shop. Her face had the softness and lethargic appearance of someone who had just woken up.

Clenching his teeth and with hopeful eyes, his body naturally straightened from his slouched position against a wall. He thought of taking one hand out of his pocket and waving at her casually, worried, and timid as he was that time on the boat.

“Good morning, Captain,” three youthful cadets passed by and bumped into him with suspicious dorkiness. Their rosy cheeks and shining eyes made Levi slightly uncomfortable.

He hadn’t even noticed them, and the loss of focus on his main objective made him turn back frantically to where he was looking. She was already gone.

“Morning,” he replied disinterestedly to the girls who still wore their training ground jackets with swords on their backs. Levi returned to his slouched position, head down. He quickly heard the little girls giggle enthusiastically, muttering among themselves as they hurried away, thinking they were far enough for him not to notice.

“Did you see how he looked at me?” one whispered. Levi grimaced uneasily; he knew better than anyone that at their age, having silly little crushes on higher-ups was normal. ‘What are you, 13? You should be worried if I looked at you like that.’

He sighed loudly. ‘What would it take for you to look at me like that?’

Not that he daydreamed of her being like them, but he wished for the enthusiasm. Sparkling eyes, rosy cheeks, nervous chuckles, and rushed steps to tell a friend.

‘I can’t just keep spying on you from afar like a creep. I’ve run out of innocent excuses to pass by your workplace.’

“Well, it’s decided. On the 2nd of March, we leave again,” Erwin announced as he exited the building with signed papers.

‘I don’t want to die without having at least something with you.’

Such a simple thought. For a split second, which lasted days, he wondered if it was a sort of fetish he hadn’t added to his list. But as another nurse, with the same uniform and the same soft touch, stitched up a cut he got when he came back and looked up at him from his left side, he felt nothing.

It reminded him so much of when she had tricked him into getting a vaccine, but it had no power over him. With her, it was like he couldn’t get her face closer without fighting the overwhelming need to grab it and kiss her.

‘Once again, do I really need to tell you that I’m dying to have a single silly chance with you?’

Something that feels utterly humiliating, like apologizing or confessing, really fades into oblivion when you’re visiting cadets half your age who are either dying or won’t be able to live a standard life after walking beside you to near-certain death. Levi looked at his soldiers in immaculate rooms and whitish beds, their bodies and faces blending into the sheets as they were covered in bandages the same shade as the rest of the room.

“Did I do good, Captain?”

Levi’s eyes opened slightly wider as he came back from his mental storm. “Yes, you did great, soldier. Your sacrifice won’t be in vain.”

He wondered, only sometimes, if his words really held any real power. But they always muffled cries of relief and pain.

‘I’m being a fucking coward, that’s what I am.’

As the family members arrived in the room or fell asleep, Levi left. ‘Even a kick in the ass pushes you forward.’

He took secure steps down the halls. It was very late, and there was no security that she might be in the staff area. Or perhaps there was; he had learned which days she was on duty. Was it a bit on the stalker side? Perhaps. But Levi took pride in knowing her and wished to know much more.

It was stupid, but he held on to that information. Sometimes he was miles away in his office doing paperwork late at night, looked up at the clock on the wall, noticed the time, and something clicked in his mind. He would check the calendar and worry. The huge hospital, empty corridors, or long hours of staying up helping women in labor or taking care of the ill. Perhaps returning home when the sun hadn’t completely risen yet. He was miles away, but he worried.

‘I just need to know… I need to know if she’s alright, if she’s safe.’

That had been the reason for this whole issue, but this time he was confident in solving it or at least trying to.

He pushed open the door to the staff area. The room was freezing, either because it was in the basement or because the heating budget was spent on the patients. He froze momentarily when her pitched scream and little jump echoed in the room.

“DEAR Shenna! You scared me!” she exclaimed, raising one hand to her chest to calm her heart and sighing loudly. She had a cardigan over her uniform and rubbed her arms to keep warm.

Her body was next to the stove where she was warming up a kettle, her frown haunting him across the room. She said nothing, only scoffed and kept silent.

‘This seemed ten times easier in my mind five seconds ago.’

He pushed the door closed with his body, giving serious thought to the words he was going to use.

“Look, I didn’t mean to insult you. That was just me bitching,” Levi said, raising a white flag in the mental no man’s land they held. It earned him a sidelong glance, but her body language showed she hadn’t completely given in. “Tch, what I am trying to say,” he scratched the back of his head, feeling the sensation of his undercut beneath his fingertips, “You’re not stupid, but you’re too nice, and assholes like him abuse that.”

This time she turned to him slightly, still folding her arms to hold in the warmth, looking tired. “I’m not naive. I know my boss can’t keep his hands to himself,” her voice was hushed, either because it was late or because she seemed exhausted. “But not all of us are Humanity’s strongest, held in such high esteem by the military. I could lose my job. He could make my life a living nightmare. Plus, I prefer he bothers me rather than the new girls who are too young and too impressionable. No, Captain, I’m not stupid.”

Levi wondered if his admiration was as palpable in his features as he felt it. ‘I’m not stupid,’ his mind repeated. ‘Yeah, you’re right. The stupid one is me.’

A young woman who held her own, whom he met having fun with her friends at a party, all of them keeping each other safe, who lived on her own. She wouldn’t have survived the Capital if she was stupid. Levi knew firsthand how those environments shaped you: either you blend with them or you break.

She sighed once again, “The last thing I need this week is to argue with you.”

It made him want to ask what else had happened, but he didn’t want to push his luck. Instead, he rose from his slouched position against the door, walked to the countertops next to her, and rested there.

“It’s fucking freezing here,” he said, hoping the little shaky fire from the stove would warm the air more.

“Yeah… I can’t feel my feet,” she replied. “You look good, though.” This time, she managed a side smile, perhaps too tired to smile fully.

Levi quickly assumed she was referring to his recent return. “Yeah, it was a shitty mess of an expedition, though.”

She hummed. “I heard. A lot of rain, I’m sorry.”

Levi shook his head, dismissing her apology as she held no responsibility. “Tch… about your boss, someone should put him in his place.”

Her eyes rolled as she chuckled. “Who is going to do it? The MPs who go to men-only parties with him?” she joked, though her words carried no humour.

Levi, unable to stop looking at her face, said, “I could cut his balls off for a modest price.”

She giggled, tilting her head to the side and biting her bottom lip to suppress her chuckles. But he felt his chest warm up. ‘Holy shit,’ he thought, feeling pride at making her laugh genuinely for the first time. ‘I wish I knew another fucking joke to pull off.’

“You’ll go to jail if you do that,” she replied, entertained. As the conversation flowed easily, her sleepiness slipped away. “You’ll go to jail, and Erwin will kill me for losing his best soldier.”

“No, I’m the stupid military board’s favourite, didn’t you say that? They’re too scared because I’m the only one who could kill the titans if they break another wall. I’ll just pull off a shitty excuse,” he replied, bending slightly forward and closing the space between them.

“And your excuse, Captain?”

The way his title rolled off her tongue, it was just not holy what it created in his system.

“He’s fucking tall… maybe I confused him with a weird titan who has balls… or should I say had?”

This time she laughed, the corners of her eyes crinkling as she showed her teeth. She tried to cover it with her left hand, and Levi was tempted to hold it down so he could still see her laugh.

The little slap of her hand against his arm caught him off guard. It didn’t hurt, but the proximity surprised him. “Stop it, you’re going to get me punished. This is a hospital; we should keep quiet,” she whispered.

She was so close, both bending forward. ‘Maybe I should just fucking go for it. Go big or go home,’ he thought. But she straightened up, pushing the sleeve of her cardigan further into her hand to use it to grab the kettle that was already whistling.

Back to being slouched against the countertop, he lost his chance. Hands in pockets, he couldn’t help but watch her as she walked to the cup with the tea ready for her to pour the water.

“You want one?” she asked, and Levi tried to hide the fact that he was mesmerised by the way her hips moved in the skirt. He just nodded. “So, what’s your modest price, Captain?”

“Huh?” The question confused him, as his mind couldn’t think of two things at once. He tried to remember his own words while thinking that she had the best ass inside the walls. Men’s brains have limitations.

“You said,” she began, pulling another cup out of the cupboard and filling it with water, “that you would do it for a modest price. What’s your modest price?”

His brain was still recovering from seeing her laugh next to him about a joke he made, the cute little swing of her uniform as she walked, her cheeky smile as she looked at him. It was hard to come back from that and reply as he usually would. No actual thoughts, no consequences.

“You going out on a date with me.”

Link to my masterlist and my other works if you feel like checking them out. Tags!: @nube55 @justkon @notgoodforlife @nmlkys @humanitys-strongest-bamf @quillinhand @thoreeo @darkstarlight82 @aomi04 @levisbrat25 @fxnnyackerman @secretmoneybearvoid @trashblackrainbow @l3visthighs @hum4n-wr3ckag3 @hannieslovebot @flxrartsstuff @feelingsandemotionsnotexplored @starrylevi @rithty @mariaace @ackrmntea @emilyyyy-08 @levisfavoriteteashop @katestrophes @katharinasdiaryy @ackermanswifee @levistealeaf @an-ever-angry-bi @youre-ackermine @searriously @blackdxggr @storiesofsung @abiatackerman @braunsbabe @moonchild-angel @galactict3a @lemonsupernova @hyuckwon-my-husbands @heyitsd1yaa @sydneyyuu @love-for-faeries-go-burrrr @mandaax @sugacor3 @r0ckst4rjk @vegetasgirl2799 @catiwinky @pinksaiyans @sparklykeylime @hagridshaircare Wanna join my tag list? Here!

[machveil]

Neighbor!König pt 2

Neighbor!König pt 1

König was a nervous mess the first few days of passing sticky notes back and forth. He didn’t understand why you were answering his little messages - leaving your own messages in turn. Although, it eased his mind knowing that you weren’t spooked by this little game that developed. He was careful, unintentionally memorizing when you came and went from your apartment so he could leave you a note or two.

He was sure the other neighbors noticed - oh, he was positive. It’s hard to ignore bright, little yellow pieces of paper stuck to a door when the hallway is drab. ‘Don’t forget your umbrella, it’s going to rain today.’, ‘There’s a sale at the coffee shop around the corner.’, or, ‘I read that book you recommended. It was good.’, cute little sentences shared between two neighbors, an unintentional show for the others on their floor. König would be embarrassed, but leaving his notes anonymously made him feel better. While the notes were very public, he had managed to keep his identity hidden - a masked man, hidden behind sticky notes and sweet words.

Maybe that’s why he got a little cocky, a little more confident - a confidence reminiscent of how he felt on the battlefield. He had managed to keep this little exchange going for a month now, well, ignoring when he was deployed - he’d always leave a note excusing his sudden departures. A few words vaguely saying he’d be back; a giddy feeling bubbling in his chest, he had something to look forward to when he came back. And, just maybe, that’s why he found himself leaving a note while you were still home. Footsteps quiet as he made the small walk to your door, just as he was about to stick the piece of paper to your door, he startled when the handle turned.

When you first saw the little pieces of paper on your front door you were amused. Attention caught with that first little note, ‘Hallo.’. Whoever had written it wrote it so small, the note underneath written a little larger. Glancing around the hall, maybe hoping someone would step out and claim “I left those”, a smile graced your lips. Taking the sticky notes off your door, you quickly made your way to a little stationary pile - you’d leave a message of your own, ‘I’m good! hope you’re doing well :)’.

And just like, after putting it on your door, you had started a routine with this mysterious messenger. You’d started to collect the little notes your pen pal left, tucked away in a drawer. Whoever left the notes got more comfortable writing them, at least, you think so. Their short, concise notes became a little longer. It went from short ‘good morning’s to sentences about the latest book they had read. It was silly, but their messages always left your heart fluttering. All things considered, whoever this was had a charm to them. You were sure it was a neighbor, the only problem was you had quite a few. There wasn’t a smooth way to bring it up in conversation either, “Hey, have we been talking to each other? I mean– you know, through sticky notes?”. So, instead, you settled for waiting. Waiting for a day when you could catch whoever this was.

It was comforting to know you had at least met all your neighbors, interacting with some more than others. Maybe it was the guy down the hall? No, he didn’t seem like the type to leave sticky notes, he’d probably just knock on your door and talk to you. It could have been the neighbor across the hall, but they weren’t home often enough to do this. Either way, you figured you’d meet them eventually. Roughly a month into this little exchange that day came. A day off of work, the sun beaming outside, it was the perfect time to treat yourself to a treat. Wallet in your back pocket, when you opened the front door you didn’t expect to be faced with a chest. Looking up with wide eyes, your shoulders relax, a soft smile tugging at your lips. König. You’d only talked to him a few times, he only gave you his name because he was stuck in an elevator with you one time - darting off to his apartment quickly when the doors opened. He didn’t talk much, could hardly maintain eye contact with you, but he was so nice. He helped you carry your groceries up to your apartment  one time, of course, he fled when you turned your back to him, but it was the thought that counted.

So when you look up at him, a greeting on the tip of your tongue, the yellow sticky note in his hand makes you pause. Lips parting, words caught in your throat, a dopey little grin settles on your lips, “König? You’re–”, but before you can speak further, he cuts you off. Hands shaky, he looks away, “Ah– nein– no, I’m–”, accent thick with stress, he takes a step back, “Scheiße– I’m sorry.”. Before you can get another word out, König turns on his heel, sticky note fluttering to the floor as he makes a break for his door. “Wait– König, come back!”, calling out, you’re met with the sound of his door slamming shut.

Brain still playing catch, your eyes dart from his door to the fallen sticky note. Heart twisting a little, you bend down to pick up the note - a little crinkled from König unknowingly clenching his hand. Sighing, you glance back at his door, lips quirked up.

‘I really like you.’ - König

[arieslost]

certified haters | ln4

summary: you and your boyfriend hate valentine’s day.

word count: 634

masterlist — join my tag list here!

© arieslost 2024. DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION.

if there was one thing you hated more than the stupid groundhog that could hardly ever predict the season changes properly, it was the so-called “holiday” that followed a couple weeks later: valentine’s day.

when you started dating lando, you made it perfectly clear that you refused to celebrate such a dumb, performative day. you’d expected more pushback considering how clingy and doting he was before the two of you even made anything official, but to your surprise he’d launched into a whole rant about how much he hated it too.

“i don’t need a specific day on the calendar to show you how much i love you,” he’d concluded, sitting back down on the couch and pulling you into his arms. “if you don’t know that every day of your life, then i’m doing something wrong.”

that was why, while other couples were being sappy and having breakfast in bed or something, you were more than happy to be freezing your ass off at silverstone as your boyfriend prepared to get behind the wheel of his 2024 car for the first time.

you honestly couldn’t imagine doing anything else— lando had seemed a bit hesitant when he asked you to come, like he thought you’d say no, and watching his eyes light up when you enthusiastically agreed was better than any valentine’s day gift.

you rubbed your hands up and down your arms to try and bring some heat back to your skin. lando, always so attentive, noticed immediately.

“are you cold?” he asked, and didn’t even wait for your response before he was putting his helmet down and shrugging out of his mclaren jacket. “put this on. c’mon.”

“no, lan, it’s fine—” your argument was pointless as he gently put your one arm, and then the other, into the sleeves of his jacket before zipping it up.

“can’t have my valentine freezing on me,” he could hardly get through his sentence without giggling, and it morphed into true laughter when you smacked him with an oversized sleeve. “i’m sorry, i’m sorry!”

“get out of my sight, norris.” you rolled your eyes, reaching for his helmet and shoving it into his chest.

“ready?” one of the engineers asked as he handed you a headset, and lando gave a thumbs up in return, flipping his helmet over as he walked toward the car.

“oh, wait!” you called out before he could put it on. “i almost forgot.”

he already knew what you were going to do before you did it. it was tradition; you always did this before he got in the car, no matter what. he closed his eyes and puckered his lips cutely in anticipation as you ran into his arms and kissed him.

“good luck, have fun, don’t die,” you said, smiling as he mouthed the words along with you.

it was what you had said before the first race he brought you to. you’d tried to come up with something profound, but you were so nervous that those six words came out instead. now you say them every time.

“i love you,” he pressed another kiss to your lips, and then your forehead. “i love you, i love you, i love you.”

he donned his helmet and climbed into the car as you put the headset on, stepping back so the engineers could do the final preparations on the car.

right before he drove out onto the track, he stuck his arm out of the car, formed a sign with his hand, and waved.

i love you! you knew he couldn’t turn around to look, but you signed it back.

you and lando hated valentine’s day, but the two of you were just as sappy with each other every other day of the year— why should today be any different?

note: this was fueled by my own hatred of this silly little day and i wrote this on mobile (thus the lowercase) in maybe two hours. the title ended up being more ironic than i thought it would be; i wish lando was my valentine and this got fluffier than i’d planned. hope u enjoyed!

requests are OPEN, and my inbox is always open for comments, criticism, and conversation! feel free to pop in!

reblogs are greatly appreciated <33

dividers by @/saradika !

tags (i’m sorry if i couldn’t tag you!): @venusacrossthestars @f1ln4dr3cl16mv33 @architect-2015 @maddie-bell @athena-artemis-dorian-gray @noreri @bwormie @alltoomaples @maximoffsimp @peargaslyyy @alicedebate @esserenorris

[ratatouillewastakendammit]

HAIII :3 I absolutely loveddd the love quirk fic you wrote for Hawks and I was wondering if you could make part two but it's Hawks that gets hit this time🗣️

Enjoy 🫡

I’d never mind

Pairing: Hawks x Reader

Warnings: Language, slight smut/suggestive, Hawks gets supperrrr clingy

Word Count: 3.5k

Click click click

The keyboard chirped as your fingers glided over its surface, lowering themselves just slightly every so often on a specific key. Almost like magic, the letters appeared on the screen, each one following the other in tandem as they melded together and formed the sentences you desired. 

Click click click

You paused, eyes grazing over the screen in contemplation, your thumb slowly finding its way to your pointer finger to fidget in the short spout of reprieve.

Writing emails had never been very interesting, especially since most of them consisted of you attempting to come up with the most creatively professional ways of conveying ‘screw off.’

Although not unusual, the shady paparazzi sending in emails for a much too personal interview always left your boss annoyed. He had actually given you the go ahead to tell them to mind their own business, an opportunity that had unfortunately bothered your well-mannered temperament far too much, so you were left to do the proper tweaking. 

After years of schooling, you would have been perfectly content to avoid writing anything longer than a paragraph all together. Regardless, the unusually high pay tethered to the application for the number two’s secretary was much too alluring to pass up.

Working for Hawks had been surprisingly enjoyable, although you did have to get used to the smell of fried chicken wafting through the lobby every afternoon. 

And the quiet attraction you held for him gnawing at your conscience.

Without mentioning his level of physical appeal, which was most definitely high, he had been quite friendly and kind to you, a far cry from what you had to endure from previous employers.

Seeing as you had found yourself working predominantly in the customer service industry, though, maybe that wasn’t so impressive. 

Each flirtatious remark he shot your way left you craving more, although you were determined not to let it get to your head, especially with all the tabloids going on and on about his playboy lifestyle. 

It wasn’t like it made you important.

With a sigh, you pressed the ‘period’ key, sitting back to inspect your work with a thoughtful eye.

After taking a moment, you found yourself fairly satisfied with the contents, clicking send and slouching into your chair with another breath. 

A peaceful silence echoed through the agencies entryway, wrapping its arms around your mind and weighing down your eyelids with a gentle pull. 

It was nice, tranquil.

The doors burst open. 

You stood, fully expecting blood or a broken bone to come along with the gaggle of yelling. There had been a few times where an upcoming pro had entered through the door with battle injuries, and if this was one of those instances, you were sure it wouldn’t be the last.

Today, though, everyone seemed fine.

Hawks, along with the small group of heroes behind him, appeared to be absolutely unharmed.

Hands in his pockets, he walked backwards, words geared towards the long, white eared woman yelling from behind him. “-worries too much.”

“Uh,” you cleared your throat. “Is everything okay?”

Mirko scoffed. “Yep. I just work with an idiot.”

It hadn’t taken long to adjust to the woman’s straightforward attitude, especially since most insults weren’t directed at you. Surprisingly, the hero seemed to have taken a liking to you, something strikingly close to what you may have defined as friendship, so you were content to sit back and watch her quarrel with Hawks instead.

The man in question threw his coworker a vulgar gesture before turning around to face you, freezing as his eyes met yours.

You shuffled your feet, becoming self conscious as his full attention seemed to pierce through you.

“Are you oka-”

Pushing off the balls of his feet, Hawks shot forward, clearing the large expanse of the lobby within seconds.

The action barely registered in your mind before he reached you, hands sliding underneath your back and knees as he pulled your body into his, lifting the two of you in the air.

Instinctively, your arms wrapped around his neck, tightening as your stomach dropped.

It wasn’t until your shoes touched the marble that you loosened your grasp. The one Hawks held on you didn’t seem to waver, however, his biceps pressing you into his chest.

He pulled back enough to face you, sporting an exceedingly charming grin that had your heart thumping. “Fine, just missed you is all.”

You paused.

“Huh?”

Somewhere in the background, Mirko let out a sigh, the sound fuming with a mix of relief and pride. “I fucking called it.”

“I’m sorry?” You called, attempting to withdrawal out of Hawks’ hold, your strength doing barely anything against his.

“Nothing.” The pro lifted a hand to her mouth, concealing what you could’ve sworn was a laugh. “He got hit with a love quirk.”

“He what?”

“I’m fine.” Hawks waved her off, golden irises still locked on you.

“He was helping some civilian out of a car accident and go hit with it,” Mirko replied, itching the back of her elongated ear. “They said he should be fine by tomorrow, and since it hadn’t taken effect yet, we figured it be fine if he brought him here.”

She bent at the waist, inspecting the way you were still attempting to wriggle from his clutches before continuing. “Maybe not.”

“So… what am I supposed to do with him?”

She sighed. “Not sure. Good luck, though, I have to go write some reports.”

And with a small wave from Mirko, you were left alone, regardless of the pleas that followed her down the hall.

Surprisingly, it had taken a mere polite request from you to get Hawks to detach himself. He definitely wasn’t as compliant when you pulled a spare chair next to yours before attempting to finish your work for the day.

He watched you, face contorted in thought for a few moments before a grin fell over his features.

You hadn’t noticed what he was doing until his arms snaked under yours, lifting you up as he slid into your spot and plopped down. Next, he grabbed your waist, pulling you forward into a sitting position, thighs straddling his.

Warmth blossomed in your face as you tried to slide off, the hands pressed firmly on your hips easily denying you the escape.

“Oh, come on, sweetheart. You don’t have to be shy,” he chided, nuzzling his face into your shoulder.

“It’s just, uh…” you craned your neck to the side, trying to take a look at the front door. “Anyone could walk in, ya know?”

“So?” He cocked an eyebrow. “Whoever doesn’t know you’re mine yet is an idiot.”

You remained silent, heart jumping at his words, but continued to wait for any moment that his grip would loosen, giving you a chance to slip away.

Still, you had no doubt he would be quick enough to catch you again.

Not that you would particularly mind.

At some point you gave up, shuffling the chair around and starting your work once more, pretending to ignore the way your body fit into his, or the soft, affectionate way he was playing with a strand of your hair.

The two of you fell into a quiet lull, the sound of your fingers against the keyboard the only noise. Thankfully, the back of your chair was short enough for you to see your computer, making for a surprisingly straightforward setup.

“Do you like someone else?”

His works made you pause, hands hovering above your desk. “What?”

“I’ve liked you for months and you barely give me any attention,” Hawks huffed. “Is it that dumbass pro from the next town over?”

“No, that’s because I-” The words made you pause, words faltering as your mental gears began to turn.

Months.

That doesn’t make any sense.

The quirk made him like you, sure, but was it messing with his memories as well?

You glanced down at him, ignoring the small laugh bubbling up your stomach at how dejected he looked, a far cry from the usually cocky attitude you had come to know and enjoy.

Still, the statement led to far too many things not adding up, the dissonance boggling your train of thought until the rest of your productive workday became impossible.

“I need to go talk to Mirko." You pushed the chair away from your desk, pleasantly surprised when Hawks agreed to let you go.

Regardless, it didn’t take long for him to lace your fingers through yours, guiding the both of you to the first floor elevator.

You entertained him for the ride up, the skin of your palm tingling against his.

It was when you arrived to the doorway of Mirko’s office, however, that you had a problem.

Bringing your pointer and middle finger to your temple, you massaged the skin in exasperation. Hawks had become quite adamant on not leaving your side, despite your exasperating protests. “Can you just wait out here for a few minutes? Please?”

It took a few moments but the look of distress slowly morphed into one of wicked glee, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Alright, fine. But you have to give me something first.”

Your eyebrows furrowed. “Okay… and what would that be.”

“I think you can guess.” His eyes flicked down to your lips.

Oh shit

You swallowed, almost fearful if you opened your mouth to speak, he would hear your heart beating up through your throat.

It’s just a kiss, right? No harm done?

The words seemed useless amidst the power of your nerves, the best course of action fighting its way to the forefront of your mind.

No way no way no way no way

Lifting up your heels, you took a sharp breath, pressing your lips against his for a mere moment before pulling away, scurrying past the doors to Mirko’s office and shutting them with a slam.

The woman looked up from a stack of paperwork, eyes shining in excitement at the distraction, and probable drama you were bringing. “What can I do for ya?”

There were a few seconds of silence, those in which you used to collect yourself, before you answered. "I was wondering if the civilian, the one with the love-quirk, I mean, told you anything else about it? Besides how Hawks will be better tomorrow and stuff."

She cocked an eyebrow. "Such as?"

"Well," you hesitated, taking a moment to remind yourself that it was alright to tell her, a woman who had become dangerously close to your friend, despite the warnings that came along with close relationships with heroes. "He said that he's liked me for months and that just doesn't make sense, especially if the quirk only really affected him a few hours ago, right?"

“I was just…” you sighed, taking a moment to compose your words before continuing. “Did you ask the quirk user if his memories would be influenced at all? Like would they be different than what’s really true?”

“Nope.” The lack of knowledge left your chest heavy, pulling your face downwards to focus on your wringing hands. “They did say that Hawks would only be affected if he looked at someone he had feelings for, though.”

Your eyes shot up. “Huh?”

Miraculously unbothered, she was now inspecting her nails, currently painted a soft gray and shaped into points that you couldn't imagine would be practical. "Uh-huh."

“And you didn’t think to say anything?”

“I figured it would be best to let him tell you himself, even though I only really had a half guess that he liked you,” she replied in amusement. “And since he technically did tell you, I’m off the hook. Figured I’d let you two weirdos work it out.”

She propped her left foot on the edge of her desk, using the momentum to push her chair backward before standing. With a wave of swagger, she made her way over to you, placing a hand on each of your shoulders before spinning your body around and prompting you towards the exit.

Squirming away didn't seem to make a difference, especially considering that her left bicep seemed to be about the size of a tree trunk.

"Wait-"

"Have fun!"

Opening the door, she pushed you out before locking her office, leaving you to glare at the foggy glass.

Are all heroes this manhandle-y?

An arm snaked around your waist, the sudden contact making you jump. "How'd it go? Figure out what you needed?"

Taking a moment to slow your heart, you turned around to face Hawks. "I, uh... yeah, I did."

Looking up at him now was an oddity you weren't sure you were ready for. You were almost sure he didn't reciprocate your feelings, the actual possibility being something you had pushed away in fear of rejection, the concept becoming foreign to you.

Now, it was hard to believe you weren't dreaming, almost as if the soft smile and longing glance he was giving you would slip through your fingers if you didn't hold on tight enough.

The thoughts infiltrating your mind had you distracted, a soft sting of embarrassment hitting you when you realized you both were dangerously close to one another in the middle of the main office floor.

Regardless, when you glanced around, you were met with a quiet destitution, a stark difference to the usual business the agency saw on a Friday afternoon.

"Um, where is everyone?"

He cocked his head to the side, a small chuckle erupting from his lips as he took your chin between two fingers and pushing it slightly toward the left. At first, you weren't sure why, but the clock sporting a 7:27 fell into your line of sight. "Only the workaholics stay this late and we don't have many of those here."

Guess I was going through emails for longer than I thought "Oh. I suppose I should be going home too, then."

"Can I come?"

You almost laughed at his question, the thought of someone of his social standing, and economic one, asking to come to the small apartment on the edge of the city you called home. "You definitely wouldn't want to."

"Then why don't you come back to my place?"

The request made you pause, drawing a feeling of unease into your system despite the lightheartedness it was delivered with. At this point, you knew he liked you, but the idea of going to his house left you anxious.

As far as you were aware, he was an individual of solitude, not even Mirko, whom you perceived to be a fairly close friend, had been to his abode.

For some odd reason, the idea made you feel icky. You sure as hell wouldn’t want to wake up surprised to someone sleeping next to you in your home, someone who you had unknowingly let in while under the effects of a quirk no less.

Seemingly able to notice your hesitation, Hawks offered you his hand. "Follow me."

He didn't exactly wait for a response, lacing your fingers through his and tugging you towards the elevator with a gentleness you wouldn't have believed to be possible with him.

With each button lit, a floor fell beneath your feet, every ding bringing you closer to what you were sure was his office.

It was quite large, the metal doors opening directly into the fully windowed room. White and gold furniture lay atop the marbled floor, polished to a shine.

The birch desk and swivel chair took of most of the space, but he had some other things laying about, such as the mini-fridge and air fryer to your right.

You were almost positive what went on there.

An ivory couch, just about the same width as a twin sized bed lay along the left wall, its creamy pillows and a lusciously looking soft blanket thrown on the side.

A moment passed before you understood what was happening. "Are you… are you sure that's even big enough for both of us?"

"Don't worry about it, songbird." He shrugged his jacket over his shoulders, grasping your arm and pulling you towards the sofa. With exhausted grace, he fell over it, tugging you with him until your body lay over his.

Fuck

With the outer layer off, the fabric of his shirt was just thin enough to feel the ripple of his muscles between your fingers. The soft heat radiating off his skin was nothing short of addictive, the warmth something you were tempted to bask in forever.

And the thing was, you were sure he would let you, if he asked.

The thought was sweet, but it didn’t take long for your mind to wander, to imagine what else he would do for you; would do to you.

"Are you turned on?"

That sure broke the peaceful daze. "What?"

He sat up, golden irises burning in excitement. "If you wanted to do something, you could've just asked."

"I'm not." The words came out exceedingly more nervous than you anticipated.

"Liar." A wicked grin laced his features. "I can tell, ya know, when you're in the mood."

Heart dropping to your stomach, you blinked up at him. "You... you what?"

"Mhm." Hawks placed a hand on your chest, fingers toying with the top of your shirt. "Your heart speeds up just so. I can hear it.”

“You’re bullshitting me.” Somehow, you suspected he wasn’t. The details of his quirk were unknown to you, but you had heard of the heightened senses tethered to those feathers he possessed.

“Ouch, so vulgar,” he waved off the assumption, using his left hand to draw gentle circles on the skin of your stomach. “But keep telling yourself that. I can be patient.”

Your brain filled in the blanks.

I'll wait until you’re begging for it

You tried desperately to ignore the thought, to quiet your frenzied mind and think of something, anything else. Curiosity, it seemed, was your saving grace, another question blossoming in your mind. "So, if you knew about... ya know, why didn't you say something.”

"Liking someone and being horny for them are two different things, gorgeous." He flashed you another grin, identical to the ones on the tabloid covers that inspired thirst tweets and tumblr stories. "Besides, I’ve heard it isn’t very hard to want me in bed, figured my sweet little receptionist wouldn’t be any different."

You snorted. "You're an idiot."

"But you don't mind, right?"

The question came across as playful, but there were wisps of insecure longing strewn amidst his tone.

"No, I definitely don't."

Your affirmation seemed to meet his standards, the man burying his face in your shoulder and pulling you back down onto the couch. Golden locks tickled your cheek, the soft hum of the air conditioner lulling your eyes to a close.

Minutes passed before the two of you fell asleep, surprising seeing that you were usually quite the night owl. Regardless, the way his wings enfolded around the both of you, blocking out the remnants of the evening sunset and any other distractions made you feel disturbingly safe. You would have been content to die here, his arms wrapped around your torso, shielded from the rest of the world within the scarlet plumage.

Chests moving in tandem, each breath undisturbed and hushed as the hours ticked by.

Upon waking, the first thought that entered your mind was how cold it was. That plush blanket you had been eyeing earlier was wrapped snugly around your form, but the fabric seemed to pale in comparison to what you had enjoyed last night.

Your eyes flickered open, straining under the sun streaking past the windowed walls. It took a moment for them to adjust under the harsh lighting, but you jumped when you glanced around to see two golden irises staring back at you.

Hawk's head was propped up on his arms, each balancing on the side of the couch, a few centimeters away from you. A smirk twitched at the corner of his lip at your reaction. "Good morning."

"What the hell are you doing?" You groaned.

An unbothered shrug tugged his shoulders upward. "You look pretty when you're sleeping."

Sitting up, you rolled your joints, stretching the rest of the tiredness away. "Hasn't anyone ever told you watching people while they sleep is creepy?"

"I've never found anyone else as good looking to feel the need to do so." He tilted his head to the side, flashing a boyish grin. "Besides, I thought you ladies liked that sort of thing. Isn't there a movie about that or something?"

You rolled your eyes, sitting up with a yawn. “So… uh, I’m guessing you’re back to normal then?”

"Yup," he replied, popping the 'p' at the end. “Why? Miss me hanging off your shoulder twenty-four seven?"

Yes.

“Shut up.”

He grinned, seemingly unaffected by your fatigued harshness. “So, are you gonna let me take you out today or what?”

“You still want to?”

“Well obviously,” Amusement laced his tone, a quiet ardor brewing among his features. “Unless you’d just like to skip all that and fuck.”

The thought had heat blooming in your cheeks, “You’re so vulgar.”

“And you love it.”

“Maybe.”

You did.

[extrajigs]

Wanted to figure out how chimera’s wrote and ended up starting on their written language proper. MASSIVE info dump below! 

Writing

They write using four fingers of one hand, usually the right, coated in ink. Think like a stamp almost. The three middle fingers draw with the tips of the teeth whilst the thumb will alternate between tip and back. All words are written simultaneously inward. The remaining fingers grip the source of ink, usually a length of hardened pigment only wetted on one side OR those who write often could invest in a pen. A pen for a chimera is a fanning brush saturated with ink that the writing teeth brush through when needing to reink. It allows for much faster wetting of the teeth, but can be messy when learning or refilling. 

Most chimera are right handed but left handed individuals exist, they will simply need to learn to use the two fingers opposite the middle in reverse of how someone who is right handed would! Luckily all fingers can move pretty independently of each other and it is an easy task.  As chimera mostly communicate through direct broadcast most find the written word lacking, so it is a common occupation among Chimera to write for others. It is an impressive skill to eloquently convey ideas/feelings through writing. Though their language set up lends to it MUCH more than others. 

The Nitty Gritty

All subject to change as this is very first drafty. 

Chimeric is a logographic language, there is no set alphabet and all ‘words’ stem from symbols representing things and ideas. Sentences are kind of two sentences atop one another, with one being the literal and the other the reactionary. It is read from out to in and sentences are written in a circle divided into 4 quarters. We’ll start with the top moving counter clockwise. 

Quarter 1 (Red) is the subject area, now subjects function the same as nouns for the most part, people, places, and things. But something important to note is that there must always be an ‘audience’ for the words being spoken. An audience basically means pronouns though they are a lot more encompassing with: I, You, Us, Them, Them excluding me/you, Us excluding you, Everyone, and a bunch of others. These are all acceptable audience subjects to top off your sentence. For instance you wouldn’t say “This pizza tastes good!” you would instead say “I enjoy the taste of this pizza” or “Everyone enjoys the taste of this pizza” the opinion/emotion needs to be applied to a source to make sense grammatically. 

Quarter 2 (Green) is all about emotions and opinions. Chimeric language is an exchange of ideas but also importantly emotions and feelings. Q2 is dedicated to how the sentence is supposed to be interpreted or felt by the reader, as obviously in ‘spoken’ chimeric speaker and listener technically feel the same about what is currently being said. Listener opinion is very distinct from speaker and in writing the speaker takes priority. So for example the statement “Who finished the box but left it in the pantry?” would instead have to be translated into something akin to “I am pissed and questioning who had the audacity to finish the box and did not care enough to remove it from the pantry thus leaving me to find it and become disappointed?” Basically chimeric lends itself to very long translations due to their feelings.  

Quarter 3 (Blue) is the action section of the sentence. The verbs if you will. This is where things are happening and is VERY tied in with Q1. Subjects in Q1 and Q2 will be linked together with lines that follow the same slice through the circle.

When a subject is linked to an action that means that the subject is the one performing the action, whereas subjects closer to the center and unaligned with an action are what is being acted upon. Like with the audience conundrum though an action needs a subject to actually act, whether it is an individual/s or an object or place. This is usually the least word heavy portion of the sentence as it is almost supplemental to Q1, and in contrast to the thin, crisp lines of the other quarters, Q3 will often be smudgey and more messy due to being written mostly with the back of the thumb. 

Quarter 4 (Yellow) is generally not going to have any words written there, as it functions as the anchor point for the hand. The outmost finger rests here on the page to stabilize the hand as it closes during writing. When writing in a ream of papers this is where the hole to hold them all together is punched through. However in modern fanciful writing styles Q4 is also used as a secondary emotional quarter. This style will use Q4 as the reactionary emotion of the reader, more so the expected reaction and emotion from the reader. This is an EXTREMELY class based writing style and it is a GIANT NO NO to write like this for someone of higher status to read. Typically only Clan heads will freely use this writing style, especially towards each other lmao. The writing style of the passive aggressive power struggle. 

All together Quarters are read at once! And I mean that there is no one word the chimera will start with. Every word of the sentence is absorbed at the same time, no following along a line like how I’m currently typing. But what indicates the order of which things are meant to be perceived is how close they are to the outside of the circle. Things closer to the center come later in the sentence and will be understood to be lower in the hierarchy of words. However only subjects and actions are directly linked to each other, emotion/opinion words are to have a more natural seep throughout the entirety of the sentence with only a loose idea of where they are to be felt. In this way while a subjects actions may be concrete, the writers feelings about them are more fluid and organic. 

Chimeric conlang yay! I wanted to make modern Mirum script but decided I needed to start at the roots. So technically two written languages originate from Mirum, but they are extremely similar with one directly branching from the other. Chimeric is the original and Miran is the derivative, they mostly share characters but their sentence structure is different. Chimeric keeps the circular structure whereas Miran is a zigzagging horizontal and completely drops quarters 2 and 4. Leading to modern Miran being a very literal language vs Chimeric’s emotion heavy focus. But if you know one you can pretty much read the other, albeit with some culture shock. 

[flrlgreen]

mine (suguru getou x reader) + twt prn link

a/n: little getou drabble. i’ve had a bit of writer's block so i haven’t been as active but, i wanted to write something with getou and this is loosely based/connected to this fic i wrote on ao3 (that i’ll probably update soon). 

cw: EXTREME possessiveness, toxic behavior, unprotected sex, reader has a vagina, breeding, mentioned pregnancy, begging, teasing, crying, dirty talk, the name bad girl is used.

link

Apparently, you two didn’t know what ‘no contact’ meant. The same man that you had just told to leave you alone is in your room fucking his thick cock into you. Why? You went on a date with the lead singer of another popular band, Toji Fushiguro. And even worse he overheard your conversation with your girlfriends about how good of a lay Toji was. 

Tears begin to prick your eyes before a single fat tear falls down your cheek.  “You’re dripping so much Angel, was he fucking you this good?” He groaned in pleasure while his heavy balls hit your ass over and over. “Does he fuck your cute little pussy as good as I do? You’re creaming all over my dick, so I’m doing something right aren’t I?” His words were making you clench on his cock even more than you already were. “Answer me.” He demands when you whine instead of answering his question. His free hand presses down on your lower belly making your eyes tear up even more.

“Y-you fuck me so good Suguru.” That’s all you managed to get out, but your response didn’t satisfy him. “Bad girl, fucking someone else. You still belong to me, I don’t care if we are broken up.” He punctuates the end of each of his statements with a deep thrust. “Say you belong to me Baby.” He leans in and whispers in your ear. “Say this is my pussy.” He knows his words are getting to you because you could only manage to let out moans and high-pitched whines no matter how hard you tried to get any words out. 

“This is your-” You say a little too quietly for his taste. “Ah, I can’t hear you.” He teases. “This is your p-” “Louder Baby. Let them know who this pussy belongs to.” He wipes the single tear from your cheek and gives you that stupid ‘poor you’ tone that drives you mad. “This is your pussy Suguru! My pussy belongs to you!” You yell loud enough and you’re almost sure everyone in the apartment complex heard you. 

“That’s what I wanna hear. You don’t belong to that asshole and if you fuck him ever again I’ll have to show you who you truly belong to.” His thrusts are so fast you can’t even keep up. His thick cock dragged against your sensitive walls and was almost enough to make you cum all over his cock. “I want you to remember how good I fuck your little pussy whenever you even think about fucking anyone that isn’t me.” He pants and pulls out and shoves his entire cock back in all at once.

 “I’m gonna make you mine, so you can never leave me. You’re gonna have my baby.” He slammed his pelvis into you until your walls were forcibly stretched to accommodate his thick cock. “Gonna cum – Fuck, you’re gonna be so full of my cum. Gonna be so cute pregnant-” Before he could even finish his sentence he was spilling his warm seed in your cunt. “Fuck.” He groans and watches his cum spill from your hole when he pulls out. His body feels so heavy and he can’t help but bury his head in the crook of your neck, but not before giving you a peck on your cheek. “I still love you so much.”

[zeroducks-2]

What's up with batman and the erasing of queer history? Sry I try to interact with fanon as little as possible

There is no simple or short answer to this but to try and not make it a wall of text - Batman/Robin has always been a staple of the queer community, so much so that to this day there are "brudick" graffiti in big cities and lots of older gay couples have been using them as a reference for solid partnership which endures in spite of adversity.

Originally there was no indication anywhere that Bruce and Dick were in the roles of father and son, rather they were partners against crime, one the shadow of the other, and they would share everything both when it came to crime fighting and in their everyday lives. They're shown sleeping together, going on lake trips together, finishing each other's sentences and Dick being viciously jealous every time Bruce would "replace" him with any of the women he used to have flings with such as Talia or Selina.

Did DC mean for them to be read as a queer couple? No, of course not. Bob Kane and others wrote a partnership, an unbreakable bond which would allow these two men to overcome any obstacle together, and queer people read into it as queer people always do.

Someone else read into it though: Frederick Wertham, who called Batman a pederast and used Batman and Robin as an example of how the evil comics would corrupt young minds to send them on the way of perdition and sin. He wrote all of this and many more infuriating shit in his book Seduction of the Innocents, which was then the major influence in creating the Hayes Code, which is the reason why we never had queer characters in comicbooks and movies and anything really for decades (and we're still struggling today).

Wertham and the Hayes Code did not stop the queer community from loving Batman and Robin though, therefore what started happening was the more subtle shift towards Bruce and Dick having a father and son relationship rather than a partnership. You can see this clearly with Jason Todd for the first time: Bruce takes Jason in and treats him as his own son, the narrative calls them father and son, and there is no doubt in the mind of who's reading that Bruce perceives Jason as his child. It all went steadily downhill from there.

Nowadays, writers have Dick say character assassinating things like "I love you dad" to Bruce, Tim saying "we will save our dad" to Damian, and everyone in the fandom acting like this has always been the case and actually you're weird and you should be sent death threats for shipping Brudick, because "UMMM that is literally his son?!??!?!?". DC has been pushing the idea that these folks are a nuclear family for a while now, but whoever has actually read the comics knows it's not the case, and it used to be very different before.

Brudick, among queer people, used to be entirely uncontroversial. While Wertham raged about how it corrupted the minds of young men and the Hayes Code prevented queerness to be anything but vaguely hinted and coded in the text, queer folks didn't care and kept having matching Batman and Robin shirts.

Today queer people will call you a pedophile and a groomer and try to doxx you for posting Brudick art because apparently they're doing the fascists' job for them, either because they are genuinely misguided or because they think that if they're enough morally pure they will have a spot among the chosen ones, hell if I know. What I know is that they'd suck Wertham's cock and balls if he wrote Seduction of the Innocents today, and it's DC's fault too with their erasure of every found family dynamic among the batclan, and the way they've been pushing the idea of a "batfamily" instead, in which everyone has a strict role of son or brother or father, and shipping them makes you the antichrist.

[theminecraftbee]

the "how to write a rec post or masterpost" post

i promised this a few days ago, so here it is: my brief guide on how to pitch yourself or someone else on tumblr to other people in such a way that they might actually click on it! this is what i've found is the most effective way to format a set of fic recs or your own masterpost will typically be, at least to me. this is meant for when you're listing multiple fics in one post, typically intending to help a reader choose one they want to read!

the biggest thing to remember is a rec post or masterpost is a tool for a potential reader. therefore, you want to include the information they need in the easiest-to-read way possible.

first off: if you are trying to list or rec more than one fic, do not use the tumblr 'link' embed function. like, you CAN, but ao3 link embeds get ugly when you have more than about one of them. instead, do an in-line link, like this! this will make a longer post much easier to read.

next, with each link, include the following information: a brief summary (it doesn't have to be the same as the summary/pitch you used for ao3, and probably shouldn't be; instead, a one or two sentence description of what the fic is about is best), the fandom it's in, a sense of the fic's length, and rating. (note that you DON'T need to include all the tags and trigger warnings--if someone is intrigued enough to read it, they'll click on the link, and from there they will see the tags and trigger warnings. this should only be enough information to get someone interested.)

finally, ESPECIALLY if it's a rec post, include at least one sentence about why someone should read it. why are you recommending it? this is different from the summary; if a summary of the fic is "joe hills gets stuck in a time loop", the sentence about why someone should read it shouldn't be "haven't you ever wanted to see joe in a time loop?"

the point of rec posts--and indeed promoing on tumblr--is that people trust word of mouth more than they trust a random summary. so give them that word of mouth! if it's a rec post, say something like "it's a fic that made me cry", or "i never thought i'd laugh so much at a fic until i read this", or "the character-voices are on point", or "i stayed up all night reading this". if it's your own master post. include something like "this might be the fic i'm the most proud of", or "this one is great if you like joe hills and enjoy tragedy", or "this one was an experiment in style". something that is NOT just further summary of the fic, but instead describes a good reason to read it!

so, for example, an entry in my own hypothetical master post might look like this:

to convey a certain brilliance, hermitcraft, T, 21k. joe hills and zombiecleo slowly, and through many death loops, drag their way out of their collapsed base to try to survive after a lunar apocalypse. this is the second hermitcraft fic i ever wrote and i wrote it before we knew how moon's big would end, inspired by super hostile; people still tell me it has some of their favorite joe characterization.

and an entry in a hypothetical rec post i might write could look like this:

the sky weighs heavy tonight by mawofthemagnetar, hermitcraft, T, 79k. an ensemble fic in which a plane being flown by keralis and zedaph crashes, and in which the world is still recovering from the scars of a deadly war. i LOVE snake's writing, and this fic was basically designed to capture me specifically; it has cool worldbuilding, body horror, PLANES, a really cool aircraft investigation plot, one of the best-executed ensemble casts in the fandom, and a fun tone! it's a fairly easy read even given it's length, too; if you haven't read it, you absolutely should.

my only remaining recommendation is that if you're writing a LONG fic rec post or a LONG masterpost, you organize it by categories. these categories can be whatever is most useful for you--by relationship tag, by fandom, by ship or not ship, by genre, etc., it's mostly just to make scanning through the post a little easier.

and hopefully this is helpful for some folks out there! if people are interested i can also do one on "how to promo my individual fic", i also have observations and opinions on that.

[spikedfearn]

I Said Just a Little Bit, Then I Got a Taste of It

Chapter II

bjorn x fem!reader

summary: After being transferred to another sector of Jackson's Star you reluctantly befriend a ragtag group of people with the exception of one cocky asshole who knows just how to get under your skin.

On the surface, you hate each other, but after experiencing a particularly harrowing event together, the two of you grow closer than anyone else could ever imagine.

warnings: secret friends with benefits, enemies to lovers, angst, alcohol/drug use, sexual themes, non-linear narrative, side rainkay, trauma bonding, near death experience, brief mention of child abuse, more tags to be added

a/n: a slight correction from the first chapter: I realized after I posted that I wrote Kay being under the influence when she runs after you when she is, in fact, pregnant in this au. I don't know how I whiffed that up when it's a relevant plot point to the story (ￗ﹏ￗ) either way though, I went back and edited the chapter but just in case anyone following this story didn't reread it after I made the changes, I wanted to put a disclaimer here!

tags: @asvtrials

wc: 3.3k

Masterlist Next Chapter

You remember the night the two of you first met with a stunning amount of clarity.

It took place a few weeks after your compulsory transfer, a result of the mines in sector two having been exhausted of all its valuable resources, the higher-ups deciding to split the colonists inhabiting it among the other five.

Truthfully, you still don't know how to feel about it. Sure, it sucks being uprooted from the only home you've ever known, forced to live in an alien environment, even if it is just another extension of the same colony.

But, on the other hand, it's sorta nice—starting over. Being relocated to somewhere no one knows you, your story. Able to shed your baggage and leave it behind, only bringing with the clothes on your back and the dog tags of your late mother, the only things that truly matter to you.

You're nearing the end of another one of your shifts, sweat gathered in the folds and creases of your body, watching sparks fly off the hard mineral you're drilling into when the girl next to you yanks down her face shield, narrowly turning away from the rock wall to bend over and vomit in the walkway instead.

It’s not unusual for people to get sick while working, the conditions down here are hazardous and the safety equipment provided does little to protect you from the harsh fumes and kicked-up debris. Still, you sympathize, knowing firsthand how miserable it is to try and push through til clock out time.

However the supervisors do not, one of the men patrolling the area to ensure endless labor shouting, “worker #1693! Why have you stopped working?”

The girl lifts her head in response to being reprimanded, the headlamp strapped to her hard hat illuminating the man looming over her, the head of the drill she was still holding stabbed into the soft earth beneath their feet, using it like an impromptu crutch.

“I'm sorry sir,” she coughs, voice rough from the stomach acid and bile she just spewed everywhere, “it's morning sickness—I'm pregnant.”

A wave of compassion comes crashing down over you, everyone else in the immediate vicinity paying no mind as they continue to excavate, wanting to avoid a scolding of their own. Not that you can blame any of them, insubordination at best results in hours lost and at worst, an automatic jail sentence, the only place somehow worse than the mines.

You want to turn a blind eye like the others but—you can't, feeling guilt gnaw at your conscience. Even in the limited light you can tell she's sick, skin pale and glistening with a fresh coat of sweat, chest spasming as she doubles back over and starts to dry heave.

“Well get back to it, we have a quota to fill!” He orders, growing increasingly agitated.

Almost instantly you find the words, “how long do you have left?” leaving your mouth before you can process what you're saying, watching as she looks back to find you.

“What was that?” She asks, using the back of her wrist to wipe the string of spit hanging from her lip, looking so small and so vulnerable, like she's on the verge of passing out. It's enough to make you commit to what you say next.

Pushing the goggles up and over your helmet and the face shield down and away your mouth to unmuffle your voice you repeat, “how long do you have left? Like—how many hours?”

“Four?” She answers, confused, the same supervisor that had warned her moments ago barking, “worker #1251, why aren't you working?!” The threatening buzz of a shock stick now being aimed towards you.

Four hours. You're in the last hour of your own shift, bone-tired and barely hanging on, adding another four after the fact might actually kill you.

With that in mind you find yourself volunteering, looking between her and the guard ready to taze the fuck out of both of you, “I can pick up her hours. Sir.” You tack on, albeit sarcastically.

Her eyes round out in surprise before the skin between her eyebrows wrinkle in confusion, understandably so. It's incredibly rare for a stranger to show humanity in a hellscape like this, where it's every man for himself.

“Why?” She asks, straightening her back out, hand coming up to cup her still flat stomach.

You shrug despite knowing exactly why, not that you'd share that with a complete stranger, replying, “don't worry about it,” before offering, “because I want to,” instead, hoping to avoid any follow up questions.

A pretty smile breaks out across her face, so big her eyes nearly disappear, turning the headlamp attached to her helmet off to get a proper look at you, “thank you so much. Really. I totally owe you one.”

“Sure,” you say, not intending to cash in on that favor at all. You don't want to owe anyone anything or them to owe you.

It's a dangerous thing—caring about someone or something on Jackson's Star. One of the only valuable lessons life in the colony has taught you. Better to lessen the weight of the emotional impact when they inevitably leave. Easier.

Your eyes follow her as she walks the path leading towards the exit, a cute little skip in her step. You can't help but smile, the muscles in your cheeks twitching at the foreign stretch of your mouth. You don't remember the last time you felt one of those on your lips.

The extra time doesn't end up killing you—which sucks, it could've been your ticket out of here.

Morbid humor aside, you can barely move as you head to the clock out station, summoning the last bit of strength you have to heave the drill up on top of the counter, ignoring the loud clang it makes when it hits the metal countertop. If they wanna dock you for the damage fine, you can't find it in you to give a fuck at the moment.

The lady behind the transparent partition checks your equipment back in, the clacking of the keys sounding loud without the constant drilling, being the last miner to leave.

“Worker #1251. Drill returned, no visible damage to report. Twenty hours logged.”

“Wait,” you interrupt, her fingers pausing above the keyboard, eyes still glued to the computer screen, “the four hours. Could you give them to the girl I covered for?”

She looks at you then, like you're high on the fumes circulating through the tunnels. Maybe you are, because who just volunteers to do hard labor? And for free? That and you still have to come back and clock in four hours from now.

“Are you sure?”

Though you don't hesitate to nod before verbalizing, “yeah,” your thoughts straying to the baby she's growing inside of her, “she’s gonna need the hours more than I do.”

It'll be the last nice thing you'll ever do, because you're never doing that shit again, offering to cover for someone else, for someone you don't even know.

Except—you do.

Because the morning sickness doesn't go away for the next two weeks, no matter how little she eats to try and combat it. And, regardless of the front you put on, you have a heart. A heart and a motive, one you plan to keep close to the chest whenever you step up and tell whatever supervisor nearby that you'll take on her workload only to transfer the hours to her at the end of the night.

Her name is Kay. You learn that after the third shift you cover for her when she comes up to you during everyone's designated lunch break, taking a seat on the bench next to you, far away from the others eating together.

You're reluctant to give her yours, preferring to just be a faceless number among the crowd, because knowing each other's names means familiarity, and familiarity means attachment. And you never intended for that to happen, wanting to just keep to yourself after the transfer but Kay looks a little crushed when you don't give it to her the first time she asks so, eventually, you do.

It's fine. It's just your name. This doesn't have to mean anything.

Except—it does.

Opens the door for Kay to start joining you for lunch, to stand next to you while you're working, to start asking you about yourself, wanting to befriend the angel that's come to her rescue the last few weeks. Her words, not yours.

You don't disclose much, keeping your past private the only thing keeping you safe from heartache. From that type of overwhelmingly raw pain only loss can bring and, while you've done your absolute best to pick up the pieces, you'll never be the same.

Shattered glass can be put back together but the cracks will always, always remain.

Kay seems to pick up on it because she doesn't broach the subject again, choosing to redirect her energy by trying to convince you to come hang out with her and her friends instead.

You reject her offer every time she asks, giving out your name is one thing, socializing outside of the mines is something else entirely, but Kay is persistent, annoyingly so. Begs you to come out for just one drink whenever you guys have downtime at work, giving you the puppy dog eyes while she does it, whining and stamping her foot when you inevitably turn her down.

You're sitting together during lunch one day, on the little metal bench you claimed the first night you started working in sector six, eating the same boring sandwich you make before the start of every shift.

However, for the first time in a long time, you feel good today, well-rested, chalking it up to not covering Kay’s shifts over the last three days.

She's roughly two months along and no longer vomiting on the job site, able to work her full shifts for the last seventy two hours, the worst of the morning sickness seemingly over. You're glad she's finally feeling better, and, if you're honest, a little relieved.

Not that Kay ever expected you to cover for her, you know her well enough now to realize that, can noticeably see the gratitude she radiates every time you volunteered, but you would've kept doing it, even if she stayed sick for the remainder of her pregnancy.

“Sooo,” Kay starts, drawing out the o, playing with the bendy straw sticking out of her apple juice box, “the gang and I are gonna hit up a bar tonight.”

“Cool,” you mutter, already seeing where this is going. It's the same tactic she's used the last dozen or so times she's invited you out. “Have fun.”

Kay pouts, her eyes big and pleading, “you should come with, it'll be fun. I'll even buy you a drink so I can properly thank you for easing my stress for a little while.”

“You don't have to thank me Kay,” you reply between bites of bologna, “I didn't do it for free beer.” A chuckle following after.

“C’moooon,” Kay bemoans, wiggling her shoulders for emphasis, “stop being such a buzzkill.”

“Can’t. That's who I am, Captain Buzzkill.” Your words slightly muffled by a napkin you use to wipe your mouth clean once you finish eating, crumpling it up along with the cellophane and brown paper bag you brought your sandwich in.

“Why are you the most stubborn person alive?” She whines, chucking her now empty juice box into a nearby waste bin.

“That’s probably not true.”

“Well you're up there! Now please just come out with us tonight. For me. And if you really don't have a good time I'll never ask again.”

“Never?” You ask, feeling your resolve slowly eroding away.

Her eyes glisten with newfound hope, nodding her head enthusiastically, “never ever.”

“Fine,” you relent, “but just one.”

If this is what it takes for her to stop bugging you about it you'll do it, just this once. Besides, you can slam a beer pretty quick if you're dead set on it.

You smile and roll your eyes at the squeal she makes, her arms wrapping around you to reel you in towards her chest, hands settling on your bicep, one on top of the other, her fingers creating wrinkles in the fabric of your shirt sleeve from how tight she's hugging you.

You awkwardly pat her forearm, not used to receiving affection, “but just one,” you reiterate. If you're gonna do this you're gonna do it on your terms and your terms only.

“Just one,” she echoes, rocking the two of you back and forth, the whistle of the horn above you signaling the end of your lunch break.

One turns into three.

You had every intention to leave after the first but, as much as you hate to admit it, you are having a good time.

Kay’s friends are cool, nice, having welcomed you in with ease, like they’ve known you for a while. In a way they do, Kay having told them about you, what you did for her. You don't think it's a big deal but they seem to think so, what with the warmth they show you from the outset.

“So you're the angel that's been helping my little sis out!” Tyler, Kay’s older brother, greets you cheerfully, pupils dilated from the alcohol, having already started without you, not that you actually care. “A proper little mutha’ Theresa in our midst!”

You snort at that, waving him off, “not really. She's pregnant. I'm not so, I thought I'd just help her out.”

“Well it's really sweet,” Rain chimes in, more reserved than the others, preferring to let everyone else talk. You can already tell the two of you will get along. “Which is pretty rare to find around here.”

Besides Tyler and Rain, there's Rain’s brother Andy and their friend Navarro. Andy, like Rain, is also on the quiet side, the programming he has installed a little outdated. Though Navarro, the resident techxpert, is working on an upgrade, building a chip out of scrap metal and wiring, she scavenges from the local scrapyard.

You're all crowded around one of the dozen or so tables taking up half the floor, the bar brimming with other colonists, knocking back beers or playing darts, the room filled with the sounds of laughter and chatter blending together. It's not a place you would choose to go on your own but it does add another layer of entertainment when you're with the right people.

“I guess,” you reply, cautiously agreeing with Rain, even though you know she's more than correct. It's just hard for you to accept compliments, you're just not used to hearing them and don't think very highly of yourself to begin with.

You finish off the rest of your drink, pulling your leather wallet out of the back pocket of your jeans to order another, but Tyler is quick to stop you.

“Nah—nah,” Tyler says, his hand lifting off the tabletop to wave you off, “don't even,” he pauses to turn away and burp before turning back around to face you again, “don't even trip. I got your tab covered.”

“You sure?” You ask, hesitating to put your money away. It's not like you all are compensated fairly for your slave labor. That and if you let him pay for your drinks, wouldn't you owe him then? No, you reason in your slightly tipsy state, he's paying you back for taking care of Kay, meaning you'll be even and no one will owe anyone anything.

So—you let him buy you more drinks, slowly but surely relaxing, thanks to the alcohol and the easygoing nature of those around you. It's clear how much he cares for Kay by how he's treating you.

It's endearing, you can't deny that. Apparently Rain and Tyler dated for a short period of time, just under a month before Rain realized she was really into Kay. But, instead of getting angry or jealous, Tyler just accepted it, even gave his blessing since Rain was better than the jerk that knocked his sister up anyway.

It's been a good night—a great one, better than you could've ever imagined, but something always has to come along and ruin it. Life just has a funny way of doing that.

“Bjorn, mate!” Tyler yells over the noise, looking towards the front door with his arm waving in the air, flagging someone over, “over here!”

That someone maneuvers around the crowd, appearing at Tyler's side in just under a minute, a grin splitting his face in two as he takes the empty seat next to him, swiping Tyler’s drink to wash down his excitement.

“Good night?” Tyler jokes, taking in Bjorn’s appearance, currently vibrating on the bar stool he's sitting on, his attention focused solely on his cousin.

“I'm fuckin’ buzzin’ mate! I finally beat that stupid fuckin’ level,” he begins, launching into a tirade about some game he's been playing for awhile, hands coming up to wildy gesticulate as he speaks.

Your eyes are automatically drawn to him, analyzing his side profile while he's distracted. He's attractive, probably one of the most attractive men you've ever laid eyes on. From his under plucked brows to the oceanic hue of his irises, the single silver hoop threaded through his ear and the silly little frowny face tattoo on his neck down to the plushness of his pretty pink lips, framed by just the right amount of facial hair. He's perfect. Perfect until he opens his big fucking mouth.

He finally registers who's sitting around the table, eyes angrily narrowing when he zeroes in on Andy, gaze flickering over to Rain, “why tha’ fuck did you bring this rust bucket ‘ere?”

“Bjorn,” both Rain and Tyler preemptively warn, like they know what's about to follow and they probably do, considering he's Tyler’s cousin. Rain takes the lead on this one, adding, “don’t start.”

“And why tha’ fuck not? Ya’ fuckin’ knew how I'd feel if he was ‘ere! Ida’ just stayed tha’ fuck home,” he hisses, accent made thicker by his anger.

Tyler pinches the bridge of his nose, looking exasperated by his cousin already, “we just wanted to come for a pint mate. All of us. No use losin’ your head over it.”

“Right. Right. No use. Just like this hunka junk synth.”

You’ve never had a filter, never needed one when you've grown up never having to consider someone else's feelings so you can't help but snark, “do you practice being an asshole in the mirror or does it just come naturally to you?”

You feel everyone’s eyes on you, probably taken aback by your intervention, not expecting you, a total stranger, to speak up on behalf of Andy. But—you've never been good at biting your tongue, never needed to when you only have yourself to worry about, overconfident in voicing your displeasure when you're the only one who'll be punished for it, unlike those with familial connections who talk back to the higher-ups.

“And who tha’ bloody fuck are you?” He spits, face souring like he's bit into a lemon, looking you up and down, from the flat tabletop that sits under your breasts up to your hairline.

“Not a piece of shit like you,” you retort, squeezing the unopened beer Tyler bought for you, hard enough to crease the label wrapped around the circumference of the glass.

“So!” Tyler interrupts, trying to change the subject, directing his attention to you, “why’d it take ya so long to come out and join us?”

Kay squeezes your knee under the table and Rain looks grateful, reassuring a somewhat confused Andy that he's more than welcome to be here, that he isn't bothering anyone that isn't a totally immature man baby.

“Not really my scene,” you answer, ignoring the crisp hiss of the carbon dioxide being released when you pop the lid on the glass bottle Tyler bought you.

“Oh! Not good enough for ya’ princess?” Bjorn mocks, still simmering with anger from his side of the table.

“No, just not good enough for you, asshat,” you flip him off, still pissed on behalf of Rain and Kay and any girl that has to interact with him, feeling Kay’s fingers curl around your shoulders like she's trying to stop you.

You decide to let it go, for now, despite how angry you are, for Kay, sticking it out until she warns you it's time to leave. Because other than that—fuck that guy

[mccormickgf]

I LOVE UR YUNA LAYOUT SM!! its sooo nice to see some kpop stans around here😭😭 anyways, could i req main 4 w a fem reader that smokes cigs a lot? thank you and have a good dayyyy<3

eric, kyle, stan, & kenny with a girlfriend who smokes cigarettes

warnings: fem!reader, smoking + drug use mentions

note: i apologize if there’s any typos or weird sentences, i wrote this with a migraine 😭 kpop and south park fans unite lollll i hope you enjoy <3

Eric Cartman:

• deep down, he’s completely unbothered by your smoking. as long as it’s not in the house, he doesn’t care.

• but he’ll make you think he cares.

• the second you light up a smoke when you’re around him, cartman’s already fake coughing.

• “eric… i just lit it, and the smokes not even going towards you!”

• “YOU’RE GIVING ME ASTHMA, WOMAN!”

• “THAT’S NOT EVEN HOW IT WORKS!”

• he doesn’t really notice the smell of it on your clothes or on your breath, thankfully.

• you’d never hear the end of it if he did.

• but god forbid you ever ask him if he wants to try it.

• he literally acts like you’re trying to murder him.

• he calls his mom, kyle, kenny, stan, butters, every single person in his contacts just to tell them that you’re ‘trying to get him addicted to drugs and kill him’.

• but once he gets bored of driving you insane with all this, he does get used to it.

• he does still make comments occasionally, though. but dating cartman, you’re already pretty used to that.

Kyle Broflovski:

• to be completely honest, he hates that you smoke.

• he doesn’t really mind when kenny smokes weed around him, but the smell of cigarettes makes his stomach churn.

• plus, he knows the health risks that come with smoking and doesn’t want you to experience any of them.

• you two have definitely gotten into small arguments about it where he’s trying to get you to quit, but you don’t want to and/or can’t.

• for his sake, you’ve tried to quit, but the withdrawals are too much to handle.

• between the urges, the moodiness, and the restlessness— it was safe to say it was the worst week of both of your lives.

• you couldn’t even be in the same room as each other without you snapping at him that he was ‘breathing weirdly’.

• after that, he gave up on asking you to quit. you did compromise a little bit and smoke less.

• he doesn’t like it, but as long as you smoke outside the house and away from him, he keeps his mouth shut for your sake.

Stan Marsh:

• in my opinion, he definitely smokes.

• so having a girlfriend who also smokes would have very few negatives.

• he doesn’t have to worry about smoking around you and you being bothered by it.

• and you both can smoke together without worrying that the other will be grossed out.

• you two spend a lot of nights in his room, the window open, smoking together while you watch cuddle and watch TV.

• probably the only negative is when you guys mix up your packs. accidentally smoking his instead of yours, and vice versa.

• but overall, it’s pretty great.

Kenny McCormick:

• kenny smokes too, but he smokes weed instead of cigarettes.

• he’s tried cigs, but he isn’t a big fan of the taste.

• but he definitely doesn’t mind you smoking them if you don’t mind him smoking weed.

• you both go on a lot of late night drives, smoking together, stopping at gas stations to get cheap snacks, and listening to music.

• there aren’t really any negatives. kenny loves that he can smoke with you.

[icallhimjoey]

Lost & Found

♥ ♥  Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader    

Summary: You take a little break, a week away to somewhere warm to relax and calm your senses. So does Joe – same flight, same hotel, same travel plans and, worst of all, same suitcase. What was meant to be a lovely trip to the sun starts off on the wrong foot when you find expensive designer outfits belonging to a man in what you thought was your suitcase.    

CW / disclaimer: rpf, fem!reader, lots of swearing, we get a little spicy but nothing too bad, 18+ just in case though!    

Author’s note: so, i wrote half of this severely sleep-deprived and half of this whilst feeling unwell, so... i don't know man, i hope that i tied it all together somewhat coherent for you all and that you enjoy! comments, likes, messages, reblogs etc. all highly appreciated, thanks!

Wordcount: 4.4K

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five

The door fell into its lock behind you and the eye-contact was not something you wanted to be the first to break.

Nothing happened for a second. You just stood close in your silent hotel room and looked at each other. You tried to focus on breathing at a normal pace which seemed, no, was an impossible task.

Had you ever really noticed what Joe’s eyes looked like? 

You had.

But like this? 

Yea, you had, actually.

Hey, fuck you, don’t judge. See them up close first before calling someone crazy.

You had noticed his eyes. You’d noticed lots of things about him, but his eyes? There was something about his fucking eyes and he was looking back at you now, his moving between yours, and oh my God, how long were you just going to stare directly into each other’s eyes like this?

It was nearing uncomfortable when suddenly you saw his eyes shoot down, past your lips, down your body, and then back up.

“Do you…” Joe started, voice low and soft, but he didn’t finish the sentence. You tried guessing what it could have been, what he was about to ask, but you couldn’t think straight.

Not with Joe so close and the energy all thick and crackly.

Were you even breathing at all at this point?

Seconds passed, but it felt like minutes did when you suddenly felt how your whole body swayed forward. Nearly into him. So very nearly.

You swallowed, and then so did Joe, and why the fuck was no one doing anything?

His eyes moved again, but past you now. Over your shoulder. And then he reached. Leant closer to you as he reached an arm behind and opened the door to the bathroom. It made you step back a little, which was just right, because that was where Joe wanted you. The faint excuse of sand everywhere, of barely sunburnt pulling skin, of salty seawater that left your legs somewhat sticky, all enough to pull you into the bathroom for a shower.

No words were shared at all when you stepped inside. You watched as Joe turned the shower on, knew how it worked because his hotel room had the exact same one, and when Joe started undressing, you followed without question.

It wasn’t weird.

You tried to think of reasons of why it wasn’t weird, but you couldn’t come up with anything quick enough.

You decided that maybe you were just weird and the situation was maybe sort of the same amount of weird for everything to feel normal.

Well. Semi-normal, at least.

It was fine.

You were undressing in your bathroom and this time Joe was in the room with you instead of just outside, sat on a chair, listening carefully to make sure you didn’t collapse.

Steam started filling up the room when you stepped out of your bikini bottoms and for a second you forgot that this was likely not going to be an actual shower shower, but more just a sexy excuse to touch each other all over.

Just like you’d done the day before when Joe had been sat on a chair outside the bathroom door, you collected your bikini to rinse out in the shower.

Resourceful type of shit. Like your mother had taught you.

This time however, it wasn’t just your two-piece that you picked up off the floor; you also found Joe’s swimming shorts.

You didn’t realise that maybe this was a little strange when you stepped into the hot stream with all of it in hand and heard Joe huff in silent laughter.

“It’s just, I always, you know... to get them clean,” you said, holding all of it under the water, focussing on getting every inch of every item wet. It was nice to have a job to direct your focus, something to keep your hands and eyes busy and not, you know, with the naked man who was stood right behind you.

Your shoulders were the first thing two cold, only cold because the water was hot, large hands touched of you.

For a second you thought he was going to stop you like he would stop you from biting at your fingernails, but instead, his hands trailed up a bit until they touched your neck and then went down your back a little to the spots where he’d paid close attention to sore muscles the day before.

Pressing both thumbs into the flesh there worked like a reset button, it was almost embarrassing how fast your body folded.

Your head fell forward, and your arms dropped down. You went as lax as you could standing up still, and it got another soft chuckle from Joe.

Next thing you knew, the swimming garments were taken from your hands and hung over the glass shower screen before hands found your shoulders again. Before strong fingers pushed and kneaded the sore spots that needed it so.

Hot water.

Naked skin.

Hands doing exactly what you wanted them to.

Shit.

Yea, you'd been after intimacy, but you kind of expected that whatever you'd been after wouldn’t made you... oh, you know, feel things.

Just taking deep breaths wasn't enough to push down whatever was trying to make its way out of you.

It was confusing and silly - you wouldn't even let yourself come close to this on your own, by yourself, but now, here, completely in the nude with another person in the shower with you, this was the right time for emotions to let themselves be known?

No.

Not on your watch.

You scrunched up your forehead as much as it was willing to wrinkle from all sides, eyebrows doing the most, because if you didn’t, your lip would wobble, mouth showing all the emotions that resided on the inside. You didn’t even think they were real emotions to begin with - you were just tired. But a big pout and a quivering chin were things you couldn’t control, were things that would just do whatever by themselves and there was no stopping them. 

Couldn’t have that, could you?

So you redirected it to the top-half of your face. Sure, it made tears spill faster, but somehow that felt fine. There was water there already anyway, the shower a perfect coverup for them. You’d rather it be this. This was prettier and felt controlled, easier to hide.

It wasn’t, though.

It took no time for you to be fucking shaking all over.

Trying to control the shaking only made it worse. And it got worse fast. Especially when you turned and you saw how Joe reacted to what he saw. Copied it. Knitted his eyebrows together like yours were and created a whole crumply mess on his face and, had you mentioned his eyes already?

You had.

Fucking stunning. Absolutely beautiful.

They weren’t helping.

This was meant to be a sexy shower for fuck’s sake.

If you could just. 

Relax.

Have a drink.

Ignore whatever stirred inside.

That’d be perfect.

You took a few deep breaths through flared nostrils that you let out through your mouth and, there you went. It worked a little. Forehead stayed scrunched, just in case, but you felt yourself relax a little. Felt heavy shit ebb away a little.

“This is why, you know that, right?” 

The hurt turned into confusion. Was only a minor change.

“If you’re going to keep pushing it down, it’ll affect you physically,” 

You snorted. Hid the way you knew he was right with a laugh. Tried to turn it into jokes.

“Okay, doctor,” 

But Joe didn’t laugh. Just swiped your hair from the front of your shoulders to your back before using large palms to push it back from your face too.

“What’s plaguing you?” He spoke so softly, you barely heard it over the clatter of shower water that hit the tiles in streams from both your elbows. 

“I’m fine, it’s just… it’s just work,” 

Joe didn’t respond to your answer at all. Just kept wiping hands near your hairline, in turn smoothing out all the lines of worry you’d etched in there. It made you grab onto his wrists to stop him. 

He did stop, but didn’t move, and then you just stood like that a second with your forehead all smooth and you had to close your eyes because the shower water was running directly into them.

The fact that joe was staring down into your soul went ignored because it was just easier if you didn’t think about being so seen.

“I don’t…” you started, stupid lip wobbling once more because Joe’s hands prevented you from redirecting everything, “I don’t want to cry.” 

“If you’ve got to cry, you’ve got to cry.” 

“I’m just, I’m tired and that fucks with everything, doesn’t it?” 

You kept thinking there was going to be a moment where Joe would laugh. Chuckle or softly snicker or even exhale a little louder than usual, but he never did.

Just stayed silent.

Watched what your face did and rubbed a thumb across where he saw you try to frown.

“What if I don’t stop?” 

“Crying?”

“You didn’t come up here to have me cry in the shower for ages,” you laughed at yourself and then groaned loudly, all frustrated. “God, you must think I’m so fucking weird,”

Joe reached and had a squint at the tiny cursive letters of whatever small tube he picked up.

Shampoo.

Nice.

He flicked it open with his thumb and said, “Well, in my defence,” which made you laugh. “I never thought that the girl I met wearing my clothes wasn’t at least a little strange,”

He was right. You hadn’t once tried to sell to Joe that you were normal. Which was actually sort of perfect. Made you feel less bad about your laughter turning into a weird choked sob when Joe got started on washing your hair.

Made you feel less bad when you apologised, and Joe held your whole head, wide hands splayed fingers from your jaw back to the base of your skull, and forced eye-contact when he said to stop apologising already.

Made you feel less bad when you, through teary laughter, commented on the lack of sex appeal you'd dragged into the shower, that hadn’t been the intention at all, and Joe just said, “We got time.”

Made you feel less bad when, after Joe turned the shower off, all you wanted to do was curl into the white fluffy dressing gown and flop down onto the bed, ready to pass out.

Because you hadn’t lied. You were tired.

Joe let you nap there after watching you run your hands over the covers, murmuring something about clean sheet day before you drifted off.

And, listen.

Yea, Joe hadn’t expected for any of this week to go the way it had gone so far. He’d intended for the trip to be a little break from work, to simply get his mind off of everything going on at home by sleeping in, and by reading books, and by swimming slow laps in the hotel pool for however long he wanted.

Well.

He’d barely even touched the book he’d brought, hadn’t swam a single lap in the hotel pool but! But! Had this... had all of this not taken his mind off of everything?

It had.

Joe hadn’t thought of work, of his schedule, of auditions and of lines he had to learn - he hadn’t thought of any of that once.

And he got to help someone.

Well, not just someone.

You.

He got to make you laugh, got to make you eat, got to make you relax. Got to hold you as you slept. Got to touch you in the shower. Not... not in all the ways he’d wanted to. Yet. But he’d been forward about it. Said there was time still. Which, there was. He’d only met you three days ago, which, was that right? Joe had to count using his fingers to check, because didn’t that feel like weeks ago already?

And sure, you kept saying sorry for being a burden, kept telling him he was free to go whenever, you didn’t want to ruin his trip, you know?

But how was he going to tell you that, actually, this was exactly right for him right now? Have his focus be on someone else entirely instead of on himself for a second?

And the answers were so easy too, weren’t they? All basic shit.

You woke up about an hour later with your feet in Joe's lap, left foot in his hands, slowly kneading as he watched TV.

You looked up, stirred a little, felt a little dazed. Took you a second to realise where you were. Who was there with you. Who was holding your foot.

“Hey,” Joe smiled lazily at you, and for a second, he thought maybe this was too much. Maybe he’d overstepped. You’d fallen asleep in your bed, naked body wrapped up in fluffy white, and Joe’d just sat down next to you. Turned on the TV, volume all the way down, like he was in his own hotel room, and when you started twisting and turning a little, he’d taken hold of your feet. Hoped that his grip would ground you in some way.

He thought it had done, because for the rest of your nap you’d barely moved at all.

For about ten minutes, your feet had just laid there. On his lap. You had nice feet, Joe thought, you know, as far as feet went. Nice legs too. Bruised a bunch, sure. Scraped from where you’d fallen, kind of similar to your face, but nice none the less. Eyes traveled up more, and that’s when Joe saw.

He tried not to see. Actively tried his bestest best not to look.

You’d cried over things you didn’t know how to explain and maybe... maybe Joe should’ve left after. Or, at least, maybe Joe shouldn’t have sat down and dragged your feet onto his lap because now, one wrong move and you'd flash your full vagina for the whole room to see.

Joe could already sort of see it now anyway, but he was actively not looking and massaged a foot to keep himself busy.

Don't look, man.

Stop.

Stop looking.

It took you ages to slowly stir awake again. And what a way to wake up. What a view to wake up to.

Joe was sat against the headboard, just in his T-shirt and the remnants of a towel that had been tied around his waist before he’d sat down.

Slow and sleepy, you sat up, and it made Joe try to protect your modesty by going, “Oh, your… the dressing gown– you, it’s ridden up, it’s–”

It was of no use, because you paid your dressing gown no mind, no matter how much of you got exposed. It was time for bits being exposed, you thought.

You moved from sitting up onto your knees, feet sliding from Joe’s lap as you did, your hair all sleep-messy and eyes barely open.

“What are you…?” Joe asked softly, but didn’t finish his question because he knew exactly what you were doing as you inched closer, hands finding his shoulders to hold as your knees dented the mattress either side of him. You lowered yourself onto his lap, your warmth sinking into his, and you grinned. Hummed in satisfaction. There was plenty of fabric in between the two of you – the sheets, Joe’s towel, your dressing gown – but it was all easily removed, one simple swipe away from connecting skin to skin.

“Hi,” Joe softly whispered as you leant closer, and he seemed unsure on if he should sit up a little or not, his hands unsure of if he should touch you a little or not.

Was sort of endearing.

Man had taken a whole shower with you and now didn't know if it was all right to touch you.

So, you helped. Took hold of his hands and guided them to your waist, more towards your back, and when you leant down enough for Joe to tip his chin up and kiss you, his arms did exactly what you wanted them to do as they tightly wrapped around.

Yes.

Exactly.

This was exactly right.

You’d cried, you’d slept, you’d gotten your hair washed and you’d gotten your feet rubbed and now, you wanted to kiss the boy.

And kiss the boy you did.

Well. You kissed him for maybe three seconds. After that, the boy was kissing you.

The dressing gown was tied loosely enough for it to come undone when Joe grabbed two fistfuls of fabric at your back and had Joe not looked at your flesh for long enough now?

The feel of the bare skin of your chest was enough to quickly lose his T-shirt.

The feel of his mouth on your neck was enough to fight your way out of the dressing gown entirely.

You’d never had sex quite like it.

Quite so slow. Quite so loving and so tender, and you know you couldn't stop thinking about his eyes, but maybe Joe had to stop making so much eye-contact if he didn't want you thinking of them all the time, you know?

And Joe was just helping, wasn’t he?

Get your mind empty.

Undo you of stresses that had no right squatting in your muscles like that.

Make you feel good, the way he knew how.

Just helping.

And it did help.

Joe helped when he had almost agonisingly slow sex with you in your hotel room.

Joe helped when after, he suggested going down to his hotel room to enjoy room service in his bed, because hadn’t you said something about clean sheet day earlier?

Joe helped when he let you choose his outfit for the next day and laughed at how you kept scrunching your nose at the selection of clothing items he'd brought. Honestly, what the fuck had he been thinking?

Helped when he just smiled and shrugged and wore whatever you’d laid out for him.

Helped when he told the host downstairs at the restaurant that your seperate reservations for one were to be merged into reservations for two because you’d be having the rest of your meals together now.

Helped when he made sure you had water after having a fruity cocktail by the pool which he made you sip before helping you into the freezing water that hurt your bones, it was so cold.

Helped when he just let you hang onto him in there, arms around his neck and legs around his waist, as he waded through the water for a bit, sun on his back and bright on your face.

Helped when he searched for your wrist again in the night and felt for your pulse, and you'd gone, “You know I’m not— you don’t need to,” and Joe’d quietly replied, “No I know,” before adding, “Is just nice.”. 

Helped when he let you wear one of his jackets once more when you went for drinks up at the rooftop on your last night there and wouldn’t stop commenting on how good it looked on you on the back-end of soft sighs.

You knew just this one week away wouldn’t fix all the things wrong in your life. Knew they’d just be waiting for you when you’d get back home. But, man, spending half this trip with Joe had made you temporarily forget about a lot of the bullshit, and wasn’t that why your boss had sent you away in the first place?

Joe had helped.

The skin around your fingers had started healing enough for it to no longer look like you dipped the tips of them into acid on the reg.

Joe had helped you beyond belief.

And so when the day arrived on which you both would be going back home, an unsaid solemnity hung in the air that the both of you tried your very best to ignore.

It was okay.

You were taking the same flight home, so your time together wasn’t over when you checked out of the hotel. And you’d exchanged numbers, said you’d both be busy the second you'd set foot back in London, but you’d keep in touch. It was a casual agreement of which you knew that potentially, it’d never actually happen.

Just a polite nicety, because what kind of rude person wouldn’t say something like that after the week the two of you had had?

But you weren’t dense.

When you arrived at the airport, you had a weird sort of more heartfelt goodbye moment in the back of your shared taxi. Where there were no other people to ogle and you didn’t feel so weird because, you really weren’t anything together, the two of you, and saying goodbye at airports was an activity strictly set aside for couples, wasn’t it?

Before you moved to get out of the backseat, Joe’d knocked your knee with his to get your attention. The look in his eyes had made you use both arms in a hug that grew tighter and lasted longer than you expected it would have. Then just a peck to your cheek, followed by a quick one to your mouth and a smile.

You didn’t sit remotely close to each other on the plane, couldn’t even see each other from where you were both sat. You kind of handled it like a big girl and told yourself this was just the transition back into the real world where you didn’t know each other at all.

Your week together could just be that. Your week together. Full stop.

It took you the whole flight back to convince yourself you were okay with that.

Joe could just exist as the bits of arm and leg in the corners of pictures of cocktails and nice meals in your camera roll.

That was it.

The week was over and done and Joe was part of your past now.

Except he fucking wasn’t, was he?

You’d forgotten there was a whole airport you needed to get out of before you'd actually part ways, and you only realised that Joe would still be in your vicinity when you looked up from your phone at the baggage claim carousel and looked him right in the eye. He was stood on the other side, the very end of the round all the checked luggage made before it’d disappear and loop back again.

You couldn’t help a smile. This is where you fucked up a week ago. At the baggage claim. You’d grabbed Joe’s suitcase and he’d grabbed yours and now, here you were. Second try. Were going to get it right this time.

Joe returned your smile and it was cute. He grew bashful and looked at his feet before biting into his lip and turning himself back into waiting-man-by-baggage-carousel, face serious and a little tired from the flight. He looked just like the business man you thought he was before you’d even met him. All stern, all posh, looking out for his suitcase, just like you were looking out for yours.

It took a second for you to spot your suitcase.

When you did, your body immediately jolted into action, but a loud clearing of someone's throat stopped you.

Joe.

You looked over and saw him look directly at you, eyebrows raised slightly, slowly shaking his head no.

Confusion.

What?

But... you listened.

Let your own suitcase pass you by, and you saw something change in Joe's expression. Something a little victorious. Something a little too glad, which he tried to hide, about you not just taking what was yours and leaving the area with it.

You watched as your suitcase looped around and... no fucking way. He wouldn't. He fucking wouldn't.

Except he would.

And then, he did.

Joe took your suitcase from the rubber belt and put it down beside him. Gave you a shit eating grin when he extended the telescopic handle with loud clicks and then just... walked off with it.

Was that his? Had you just made the same dumb mistake and had you nearly reached for Joe’s suitcase again?

You looked, saw the other suitcase come your way and were quick to take it. Checked it.

No.

This one wasn’t yours. This was Joe’s.

That little shit.

Your week together wasn’t just going to be your week together, and Joe had to make sure of it. He went about it a little drastically, sure, but in his defence, when he’d thought up the idea of taking your suitcase home instead of his own, part of the plan wasn’t that you’d actually see him do it.

You were meant to just find Joe’s suitcase and not see that it wasn’t yours until you’d get home.

Maybe this was better though.

Maybe this said, “You’re mine.” more.

Maybe this said, “You were mine the moment I saw you dressed in my clothes.” more.

Something possessive and greedy about all of it, but Joe didn’t care.

He was just helping.

And he truly had helped you!

Helped in all the ways he knew how.

Just now was the time for Joe to help himself. And so he did. Joe helped himself when he signaled for you to leave your suitcase be. Helped himself when he smirked across the carousel and turned on his heel, your suitcase rolling behind him. Helped himself when he got into a taxi and waited until it got onto the road before he texted,

“Your suitcase”

Referring back to the first words you'd said to him on that weird day at the airport.

You received the message just as you stepped out of the airport yourself and couldn’t help the way you wanted to squeeze Joe’s face in both your hands, really dig your non-existent finger nails into his cheeks because he was being such an idiot. You didn't know if you wanted to scold him or tell him you loved him for the cheesiest fucking thing you'd ever see someone do.

You knew the perfect reply though.

Joe eagerly awaited your message, was hoping he was going to get what he wanted and, yes, fuck fucking yes, his grin stretched from ear to ear when he did.

“Your jacket” the end

---

The Taglisted

@adoreyouusugar, @alana4610, @ali-in-w0nderland, @alwayslindie, @babybluebex, @barfightzanddiscolightz, @bettyfrommars, @cancankiki, @capricornrisingsstuff, @chaoticgood-munson, @choke-me-eddie, @demonsanddemogorgons, @did-it-work, @dirtyeddietini, @dylanmunson, @eddies-puppet, @electricmunson, @emma77645, @emmamooney, @everythinghasafacee, @figmentofquinn, @frogers, @frootvelvet, @ghost-proofbaby, @ghostinthebackofyourhead, @harringtonfan4, @haylaansmi, @jasminearondottir, @jewellethief, @joesquinns, @kellyxo1, @kennedy-brooke, @lovelyblueness, @manda-panda-monium, @miserybeans, @nadixq, @notverywise, @paola-carter, @pepperstories, @phyllosilicate-s, @roosterisdaddy36, @sherrylyn628, @sidthedollface2, @thebellenouvelle, @thewondernanazombie, @tlclick73, @werepartnersnow, @winterwakesthewolf, @witchwolflea, @yelyahcardella

taglist currently full, sorry

[weirdsht]

Disillusioned 14 . Insecurity, My Old Friend (2)

a/n: the typhoon is so bad but only one of my profs switched to online class... but during online class I wrote this instead of listening so ig its understandable why they don't want to switch...

anw, after this chapter this thing officially has more words and pages than all of my lotcf oneshots combined

tags: slavery and human trafficking, mentioned wounds, tears

English isn’t my first language so there will be grammatical errors

Pls don't repost my work anywhere without my permission

Constructive criticisms and any kind of interaction are more than welcome

Requests are currently closed but my ask are still open (read pinned)

Buy Me Dessert

Navigation Masterlist prev . next

It felt like it had been a long time since _____ and Cale saw each other. In reality, it was merely a few days. It probably just felt like an eternity because they were both busy.

Sure, let’s go with that…

The two exchanged short pleasantries before the conversation switched to how one of the Gyerre Duchy’s vassals was committing human trafficking.

At first, the healer silently listened to the assassin and the young master talked. But then a familiar name was mentioned.

The Chryshi

_____ who has naturally and unknowingly switched their positions from in front of Ron to Cale's side perked up at the mention of a merchant guild and the Chryshi household.

A puppy-like young master and a bunny-like healer young master that naturally gravitated towards each other every chance they got…

No one knew how much this fact entertained a certain benign old man. 

The so-called bunny-like healer started tugging Cale's sleeves as an indication they had something to say, too uncomfortable to speak first because there were a lot of people.

"Hmm? What is it _____, do you know something?"

Ignoring how Cale's voice softened a bit when addressing the healer, they all tuned in as to what the healer had to say.

"Back when I was with my adoptive family, I heard them bring up the Chryshi and some merchant guild in the same sentence. Whenever the conversation was about that they would also bring up about how it brings in so much income.”

_____ could see the intrigued reaction forming on Ron’s face.

“Also, there were nights when I would hear them have secret meanings with that Baron household... I wasn't allowed to take part in important conversations when I was back there so I can only tell you about things I overheard."

Cale once again feels like a headache coming.

However, it checks out if the Perduellios are part of this human trafficking scheme. How else would they get information about an ‘orphanage’ that sells blessed and gifted children?

It just makes sense.

And everyone could see that Cale hates that it makes sense.

Because if the Perduellios are part of this scheme then it would mean the orphanage _____ came from is a slave house with an orphanage front.

As if _____ hasn’t had enough in Cale’s opinion.

They already suffered from those bastards called Perduellios. If the place they came from was a slave house… how much more abuse did they experience?

“Ron, Freesia, include the Perduellios in your investigation.”

“As you wish young master-nim”

Everyone finalized the plan before moving on to another topic.

“Are you sure you’ll be fine staying alone at an inn? I can send one of them with you.”

What’s this? A certain redhead young master is acting out of character?

“I’ll be fine. I know the Gyerre territory like the back of my hand. I have done so many projects here since the Perduellios are aligned with them.”

Just as Cale mentioned, the plan is for _____ to stay in an inn. They would dye their hair and eyes as disguises too. This was because the chances of them being discovered here were higher. Not only does everyone know them, but Perduellio’s people also frequent this place.

So they had an idea to make _____ stay at an inn and pretend to be a traveller. It’s a great plan, only if Cale and Raon weren’t so hesitant.

Despite those hesitations, everything proceeded as planned.

The next day _____ went to a teahouse they used to frequent before. It was a few blocks from where Cale was drinking and should have windows so they could look at the houses from across the bridge.

Walking inside the establishment made the healer feel nostalgic. Going inside this teahouse was the only time they could semi-relax before. They were only allowed in there so rumours of the Perduellios not letting _____ have any downtime do not spread. Still, they were grateful for all those times.

_____ went to sit at an empty table with a window view. They would sit where they used to but for some reason, that table was filled with all sorts of flowers and gifts.

“Are you a traveller?”

A childish voice asked the healer. When _____ turned around to see who was talking, they saw the child of the owner of the teahouse.

“Yes I am, how did you know?”

Thankfully _____ had asked Raon to change their voice last minute.

“It’s because I saw you looking at that special table! Everyone here knows why that table is so special! You look like you don't know, so you must not be from here!”

Seems like _____ hasn’t been around here for a long time. 

“That table belongs to Roan’s Medicus! Well, not belong but when uhm, when they were still around they would go here and sit over there and admire the view so my parents decided to decicate that table to them… I’ve always wanted to play with them… they were so pretty that I felt shy… I wish I had asked though…”

Guilt stabbed _____’s heart at the child’s words. They have seen this child look at them back then. However, they just thought the child was curious.

“But I'm not sad! Mom said that they are resting peacefully now! She told me that maybe they had to go because the Sun God missed them already! I'm sad that Sun God didn't ask me first if I won't miss Medicus-nim, but I understand their feelings because I'm a big girl now!”

Despite saying she's not sad, the child's eyes look teary as she talks about the healer.

“Oh, I was talking about the table! After hearing what Mom and Dad did, everyone started bringing gifts and flowers! Everyone said that it's so that if ever Medicus-nim’s spirit visits here they'd know just how much we love them! See that flower over there? I picked it myself to give it to them!”

_____ had no idea that people admired them to the point of doing something like this. It made their heart swell. Maybe they have done more than they thought they did. 

“Really you did? I'm sure Medicus-nim will be happy when they see it…”

A woman came out from the kitchen, making the healer unable to finish their sentence. _____ knew this woman well, it's the shop's owner.

“Oh my! Mirari what did I tell you about bothering our customers!”

“Oh no, don’t worry it’s fine miss. We had a good conversation.”

The woman who seemed to be in her mid-thirties looked at _____ apologetically.

“I’m glad if that’s the case, but I’m still very sorry. She has suddenly started acting like this after hearing the news about the Medicus.”

Oh…

_____ doesn’t quite know how to feel about that.

So instead they just reassured Mirari’s mother that no harm was done. Nonetheless, the owner was insistent that they’d been disturbed and said that they could have something on the house.

“Traveller-nim choose tiramisu! It’s really good! Medicus-nim always ordered it!”

_____ doesn’t know if they can take any more of this.

They don’t know what they’ve done to make someone this fond of them.

“If Mirari-nim insists then I’ll get a tiramisu cake.”

The healer smiled as they waved goodbye to the child that’s being escorted back to the kitchen. As they did they wonder how such a small child could leave such big lingering feelings.

Nothing else happened after that encounter. _____ just sipped their tea and ate sweets as they watched the windows.

Then it finally happened.

Cale had gone outside acting all trashy.

As they did _____ couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle. It’s funny to see the young master acting drunk when he's clearly not. Plus that red flush on his face looks cute.

…wait what?

Uhm anyways…

Soon _____ saw the signal for them to make a move. The signal that they talked about yesterday was Cale’s shield. As soon as the redhead summoned the famous silver shield, the healer went out to be on standby.

Everything became chaotic. _____ could see the citizens not knowing what to do as the famous young master Silver Shield caused havoc.

_____ used that chaos to their advantage and went underneath the houses Cale had been eyeing since this morning. 

Once they got to where the victims were _____ started healing all the severely injured people. As much as it pains the healer to pick and choose who to heal they still do. This was because the Gyerres had to see for themselves just how much these people had suffered.

So as much as they want to heal everyone, _____ only attended to those close to dying.

“Kind _____ the people our human is waiting for are here!”

Raon’s voice echoed in _____’s mind midway through finishing all the houses. That was their sign to get out before Antonio Gyerre or his knights saw the healer.

That night two cute kittens infiltrated _____’s room.

“Cale said you might use all the potions he gave to you on other people nya!”

“We are here to heal the healer nya!”

On and Hong greeted the injured healer on the bed as they welcomed themselves in through the window. _____ could only send a small smile in return, too hurt to form a response.

“Our youngest and Cale wanted to come here themselves but they still have something to do nya.”

Hong stated as he switched to his human form to properly use the healing potion he and On had brought. Meanwhile, his older sister is inspecting the healer’s body. She’s assessing every wound she can find, no doubt to tattle to Cale later.

With the help of the two siblings, _____ started feeling better in no time. They would try to do it midway themself but the healer has learned not to disturb the two kittens when they set their mind to do something.

After they were done they shifted back into their kitten forms to curl up and cuddle with _____.

Safe to say _____ slept soundly that night.

A few days later _____can finally regroup with Cale. They agreed to meet up outside the Gyerre territory, just before they had to meet up with Mary and Tasha.

_____ entered the carriage and greeted Billos. They were about to sit beside him when they felt Cale tug on their clothes. It confused the healer because why is Cale stopping them from sitting beside the merchant when they usually sit across the redhead? So _____ looked at the young master only to see him patting the space beside him.

“I assume you’ve been well?”

“Yes, thanks to you and the kids. I’m glad that you seem to be in good spirits too.”

Cale quickly assessed the healer's body to confirm if they were feeling better. After seeing that they were, the redhead grabbed a pillow from somewhere and placed it on the healer's lap. He then laid down on that pillow and started sleeping as if Billos wasn’t even there.

In turn, Billos just acted as if the young master wasn’t doing anything out of the ordinary.

Time passed and they soon arrived at the entrance of Vegas CIty where the merchant got off. As soon as he did Cale got up from _____’s lap to talk to them.

“Ron and Freesia had investigated the Perduellio Family. It turns out that the assumptions were correct. The Perduellios have been working with the Chryshis and have been smuggling people.”

Oh…

Was it too late to put their hood back on now?

Because _____ feels like they’re about to cry…

Oh no

_____ can feel the waterworks start. They tried to suppress it, but the news was just too much to bear. Especially after the conversation they had with that child named Mirari.

Tears fell as _____ absorbed the news Cale told them. 

In the back of their mind, someone was telling them that they seemed to be crying a lot these days but they currently can't care.

"I didn't... I genuinely didn't know anything..."

The sorrow _____ felt at the involvement of their family felt foreign to them. Their heart feels as though it was being crushed by how heavy it was while their head feels light. They also started questioning their role and achievements. Although they didn't take a direct part in that terrible sin, they feel as though they still have a great responsibility as they were part of that family. 

"I know they weren't the greatest... But I never thought they would stoop so low. What they did to me was fine but this…”

They may have not taken part in the act, but they unknowingly helped fund it.

And that made _____ feel so so guilty.

“While I was healing people, feeling like I was righteous, they were doing such a sin behind my back. Using the money I have accumulated from the sick for such a task.."

Cale can't take this anymore. He can't take _____’s tears anymore. But he doesn't know how to handle a crying person.

So he did the first thing that popped into his mind.

Cale offered his shoulder.

Well, he first wiped _____’s tears before semi-hugging them to place them on his shoulder.

The point still stands, Cale is doing something unusual.

Raon, Hong, and On watched this predicament with their jaws practically on the ground. They had seen the redhead act in all kinds of ways to get what he wanted. But never like this.

Plus, he wasn't acting. That makes it more shocking to the children.

And maybe _____ would be the same if they weren’t engrossed in their feelings. 

But they are, so they just accepted the comfort the redhead silently offered and cried to their heart's content.

Later on, when Ron checked the carriage, he could see the bunny healer's head on his puppy master's lap. Both of them slept while the children were quietly chatting amongst themselves.

a/n: just a small fun fact, I wasn't gonna assign a name at first because I was too lazy but then I learned that Perduellio was the capital offense of high treason back in Ancient Rome

[queenie-official]

‘Friendship’ Modern!Ani

Main Masterlist

word count: 1,980

pairing: Modern!Anakin Skywalker x reader

summary: ani and reader search through the attic on a rainy day

a/n: this is just a fun little oneshot i wrote to show off more of reader and modern!Ani’s dynamic 🙈

Boxes, lots of boxes. why were there so many boxes? how much of this stuff did your mother even need? you’d opened about 20 different ones and not one of them had what you were looking for.

you and Anakin have been digging around the attic for well over an hour now, the only thing you’ve successfully found was more dust.

honestly when you had insisted Anakin come over to spare you from a bored rainy day, and then proceeded to force him into helping you recover an old shoe box you knew for a fact your mother placed somewhere in this attic- you figured your efforts would have been successful by now.

a sharp gasp from Anakin draws your attention from the box you’re currently rummaging through.

“What did you find it?!” you ask whilst turning to face him, watching as he sticks his arm further into the box he was working through to grab something.

“I Knew it!” he declares, making you confused as you stand up in a failed attempt to get a better look at what he found.

he turns to you standing up now as well and holding up a small toy Truck. “you did steal him from me!” he says with furrowed brows.

you squint at the truck in his hand and notice the face on the front of the truck, buck teeth sticking out. “i knew i wasn’t crazy” he adds, turning the small toy so the face was looking at him.

“hey that was mine!” you argue walking over to him to take back the Toy, just as you’re about to grab it he moves his hand out of your reach.

“you didn’t own any Cars toys” he counters, tightening his grip on the little truck. which once used to be the size of his whole hand and now fit perfectly in his palm.

“you don’t even like Mator!” you defend, going on your tiptoes in order to reach his hand but he just raises his arm even higher.

“i never said that, and he’s mine. I've been looking for him for years!” he holds you back with his free arm then takes a few steps back.

“Well he was my favorite” you pout, taking a step back yourself so that he couldn’t hold you back anymore. then quickly ducking under his arm to get to the other side of him, not willing to give up on this.

“He’s my toy!” he says frustratedly dodging each of your attempts to grab it back.

“you’re Eighteen Anakin” you glare at him and he glares right back.

“so are you!” right as you where about to lunge towards him and snatch the toy back you both here footsteps coming up the ladder leading into the attic.

“what on earth are you two-“ your moms voice rings out as her head pops up from the hole in the floor, cutting her own sentence short as she sees you and Anakin.

Anakin was frozen in place with his hand in the air holding up the toy and you were awkwardly grabbing at his arm trying to manually pull it down.

“you know, i really thought you two would have outgrown this” she says with a unamused face, crossing her arms and looking at you both with a disapproving shake of her head.

“i’m just taking back what’s mine” Anakin defends himself, quickly taking the opportunity to slip the toy in the pocket of his jeans when he sees you lower your arms embarrassed to have been caught fighting over a toy truck like two children.

“what are you both even doing up here?” your mom asks curiously, not moving up the latter further instead turning on the step so she could get a better view of you both.

“looking for something- speaking of, do you remember me having a shoebox i painted pink? it had gold glitter all over the lid and a bunch of stickers on the sides.” you walk towards your mom as you ask, describing the little box you remembered so clearly in your mind.

“y/n, we’ve had all the stuff up here packed away for years…you really think i’m going to remember a shoebox?” you groan at her answer. beginning to think she may have just thrown it out.

“forget it we’ll just keep looking” you say turning to look through another box, tuning out the conversation now happening between Anakin and your mother as you focus.

“what’s so special about this box anyway?” Anakin asks, standing beside you with his arms crossed.

“i told you already there’s stuff i put in it that i want.” he rolls his eyes at your once again Vague answer to his questions.

“honestly how do you even know what you’re looking for is in the box?” he retorts, nudging you with his shoulder before walking to open another box as well.

“because i know it’s in there” you grumble and then hear him let out a sigh, completely over this whole mini adventure.

at first digging through old stuff in the attic did sound at least a little bit fun. all the cool little nick-nacks you guys could find.

then it got way less fun when he found out there was something specific you guys would be searching for, making it seem more like a chore.

the sour mood solidified with each screech you let out when you came across a spider or anything that vaguely resembled one. he probably killed more spiders for you in the last hour then he had the whole year.

“okay well maybe if you were less cryptic with what it is we’re actually looking for-“ you cut him off with a screech, causing him to whip his head towards you only relaxing when he saw the smile on your face which meant he didn’t have to deal with another spider.

“I found it!” you say excitedly as you pull the shoebox out, bouncing on your feet happily as you look up at him.

“oh thank god we can get out of this leaky, dusty attic” he says dramatically, mostly pulling your leg.

although he did get a bunch of water poured on his head earlier when the rain picked up and he happened to be under a hole in the roof neither of you noticed.

so it definitely wouldn’t be much of a stretch that he may actually really want to leave.

“alright now can i know what’s in the stupid box” Anakin asks as you both walk into your room.

you take a seat at your desk and then place the box down. “nope” you turn towards him in the chair and shoo him, he lets out a dramatic gasp.

putting up a hand to his chest to really sell the offended act. “i put in all that work and i don’t even get to see what it was for? that’s cruel”

you roll your eyes and start to push him away, he eventually gives in and walks over to your bed. huffing as he falls back onto it.

“i’ll show you in a minute just give me a sec” you mumble as you lift the lid off. and look in with a pleased smile.

there were unused stickers, some glitter that must of rubbed off from the lid, quite a few pieces of old candy. a Polaroid picture of you and Ani from when you were eight and both lost the same tooth, and lastly the very thing you were searching for.

Two beaded friendship bracelets.

one was blue and had white beads with black letters on it that spelt out Anakin. the other was orange, the same white beads with black letters on it only this time they spelt out your name.

“i wonder if the elastic is any good” you think out loud as you grab the orange bracelet, sliding it over your hand and admiring it as it sits on your wrist. a bright smile on your face as you stare at it.

you’d made them both, wanting to have matching bracelets with Anakin. only problem was you’d never ended up giving Anakin his, or wearing your own for that matter.

if you had given him it you knew for a fact he’d have worn it until it broke- most likely would have even asked you to make him another one to replace it.

well you knew that now, little you on the other hand had her doubts.

in your defense you had seen Padme hand out bracelets she made for everyone in the class the very same day you’d planned on giving Anakin the one you made and Anakin very clearly detested the idea of wearing one to her.

how were you supposed to know he would have worn the bracelet you made without a second thought if he’d known you’d made him one.

“okay close your eyes” you say excitedly, taking the bracelet you made for him all those years ago into your hand. standing up from the chair slowly, making sure the bracelet couldn’t be seen in your closed hand.

“what why?” you turn to face him with your brows furrowed, ready to argue with him on this but his eyes where already closed. you can’t help but smile at that.

“why ask if you’re gonna do it anyway?” you question him as you walk over, grabbing his arm that laid across his stomach. his eyes twitch slightly, wanting to open them and see what you were doing but he resists.

“because i know it annoys you” he teases, flashing you a shit eating grin. you roll your eyes, maneuvering his hand so you can slide the bracelet onto his wrist.

as soon as it’s on his eyes flutter open before you can even tell him to look.

you watch as his eyes soften slightly, then he sits up and turns his arm to get a better look. “when did you make this?” he says airily, brows furrowed in confusion. gently he traces over the letters of his name with his pointer finger, silently admiring it as if it was a piece of artwork.

“when we were like eight- it’s not important but i like randomly remembered i made them when i was scrolling on my phone earlier.” he snorts a laugh at your answer “you don’t have to wear it” you add before he can make a witty response.

“are you kidding me, i’m never taking this off” he says, pulling his hand away from you as if you were going to try and take it off of his wrist. you can’t help but laugh at his antics.

“i’ll take that as you like it then?” you ask shyly, why you suddenly felt so awkward you weren’t sure- you’d never felt this way with Anakin.

“i love it, how come you never gave it to me when you originally made it?” you just shrug not wanting to give him the actual reason in fear it will make you feel even more awkward then you already do. thankfully for once in your lives Anakin doesn’t push.

simply smiling at you before looking back down at his wrist. you could tell he was being serious when he said he was never going to take it off…

“hey wait a minute- do you still have the Mator toy we found?” your brows furrow when you remember not having got it back from him.

his head snaps up and he gives you a smile right before standing up and dashing out of your room.

“Anakin give it back!” you shout before running after him.

“it’s mine!” he shouts back, throwing on his shoes in order to run out into the rain before you could catch him and then making a mad dash to his house as you struggle in the doorway of your house to put on your own pair of shoes.

some things would always be the same.

another one😎 as you can tell i love the childhood friends to lovers trope 💅✨ anyways i personally headcannon that Modern Anakin had a total obsession with the Cars movies when he was little which really started his love for cars in general. his future as a Car guy was inevitable at that point 🌝 hope you all enjoyed 💋💋

[aokoaoi]

— pairings : neteyam x fem!reader

— warnings : fluff. angst. no comfort. character death. major atwow spoilers.

— authors note : if you know me, i mainly wrote shuri fanfics. but now is the time for a new phase:p. might still post about shuri, keyword : might. anyways, happy new years to those who've just reached the first of january !

To Neteyam, you're like a rare precious gem no na'vi has ever discovered. You were like no other, and that's what got him attached to you.

At first, it was just friendship. Sharing memories together, sharing laughs and jokes, and even in those raids you were still with eachother. But then that friendship turned into something more romantically involved as he realized.

He hid his feelings for you, afraid of what would happen if your feelings weren't mutual. He definitely couldn't tell you, not when everything is already perfect as it is.

When his father announced that they'll be finding a home in the Metkayina clan in order to keep their current home safe, he saw the surprise in your eyes. A flash of worry and fright glistened in your eyes, and immediately you stubbornly argued with the clan leader.

It was like you weren't even afraid of his father at all, and no matter how much he rejected your offers to come with them just to be with Neteyam, you just put a furious pout in your face. Eventually, you used the 'Sully's stick together' weapon on the clan leader.

Of course, you weren't a Sully. But to the Sully's, you were basically family to them. Neytiri treated you like you were her daughter every moment you're with her, and to the siblings, you're basically like a guardian angel. To Jake though, you're a stubborn little prick. But not in a way that he disliked it.

And then the siblings got involved. Mainly Tuktirey.

Poor little girl was clinging in your leg, wanting you to come as well. She grew a soft spot in your heart, she was so dear to you even you can't resist her. When Tuk was putting up a pouty show for you and Jake, he eventually agreed to let you come with an annoyed grunt and a roll of his eyes.

When it was the time to learn the ways of the Metkayina, you were oddly fast to adjust, with the help of Tsireya of course.

You comforted him when he still wasn't making progress and even offered to help him even though you only knew so little. You first taught him breathing exercises like how Tsireya taught you. It took a couple of minutes because of how distracted you two would get, but he eventually got the hang of it.

But then you two spent less time together now that you were learning on your own. It saddened him, yes, but at the same time he wished you learned more with him instead of learning with the Metkayina's.

He eventually saw that you were drifting apart, and how he saw you less and less each day. He didn't know why, and you never told him why. He wondered what could have gotten you so distracted to the point you rarely talk to him anymore.

He saw you once and only got to talk to you once when Kiri had a seizure underwater. You rushed in with a worried look, and you turned to the na'vi nearest to you to ask what happened. And that na'vi was him.

Small words, short sentences. That was it.

You immediately ran to Kiri when she gained consciousness, your knees scraping the ground from how you you hastily crouched down to her level beside Neytiri, your hand on her shoulder rubbing comforting circles as she held her weeping daughter.

It was when he got the point. You didn't want anything to do with him anymore, that's alright with him. He'll give you your space if that's what you wished for. He'll avoid you, He'll not talk to you, but that's not stopping him from thinking about you all the time.

A painful feeling ached in his chest when he sees you with the Metkayina siblings, Ao'nung and Tsireya. You won't even talk to his own siblings anymore, not even Tuk.

Even though he didn't fully understand as to why you're doing this. he'll let you go.

He let's you go, even though he still thinks about you. Even in the battle field. Even when his siblings have been caught by the humans. And even when a bullet has been shot through his chest.

He wonders about what you'd think about him if you saw him now. Bleeding and vulnerable.

'Skxawng.'

He can't help but smile at the thought as his brother puts him up on a rock, his sibling and his father surrounding him. Jake orders Lo'ak to put pressure on his chest, and the boy does so. Lo'ak sees a small smile on his brother's face.

"What you smiling about, huh? During this situation?" He attempted to tease him, but the worry on his voice laced his normal teasing tone.

"Thinking about her." Neteyam says after a few beats of silence, tears swelling up his eyes as he struggles to stay awake and breathe. Lo'ak stares at him, breath hitching when he understood what his brother meant.

Neytiri then landed beside them, rushing immediately to her son worridly. She yells in agony, falling onto her knees and beside Neteyam.

Tuk exclaims something as they heard a flapping on the waters nearing them, and on instinct, Spider turned to the source. You almost fell off your ilu when you rushed to the bleeding boy, your feet harshly scraping on the rocks, making cuts in your feet.

You fell onto your knees as your breathing became uneven and harsh. Neteyams eyes glossed over your face, contemplating if you were real or if he was dreaming. Your tears fell onto his cheeks, and then he was reminded this was reality.

Your voice let's out small whimpers of 'no's, your hand touching the sides of his face as your thumb brushed against his cheeks. You feel a hand on your back, and you recognized the feeling of his father's hand immediately.

"N-neteyam, I'm here. Okay? I'm here now." He heard your soft voice call out to him. Oh how he missed that voice so much.

You let out a heavy sob, one hand coming down to his wounded chest as you tried to put pressure on it as well. Your ears attempted to silence the boys struggled breathing and small chokes as it brought more tears to your eyes.

He attempts to speak, but only ends up choking for air.

"..I want to go home." He chokes out, tears cascading down his cheeks as you caressed it. Jake let's out a heavy sound at his words, fighting the tears in his eyes as he went closer to his son.

"I know, I know. We're going home." Jake struggles the words out, leaning more towards Neteyam as you made more space for his son.

"We're going home, it's okay." The father comforts, his big hand coming to Neteyams cheek. You let out a pained breath at his words, your vision bluring from the tears collecting in your eyes.

Silence rang around you as Neteyam calls out for his father, but was unable to finish. Your heart stopped there, and your lip twitched into a frown. You watched as his pupils dilated as your hand felt his chest stop beating.

"Neteyam." You call out, your hand leaving his chest. You hear a sigh from beside you, and then Neytiris cries. Your heart ached as you watched Neytiri desperately shake her son awake, your lips twitching into a frown as the tears that collected in your eyes finally cascaded down your face.

My son.

Neytiri yelled, her voice breaking.

"I'm so sorry." You sniffed out, grasping Neteyams hands. You imagine the warmth in them like always when you get the chance to hold him. But now it was cold.

Cold.

Lifeless.

You brought his hand to your lips, and to your cheek. "My love, I'm sorry." You whispered into his hand, your warm breath hitting the coldness of his hand.

You then felt a body engulfing you, sobbing into your shoulder. Tsireya. Her arms held your shaking body as your let out harsh sobs, your lungs struggling to breathe air.

You shut your eyes tightly. You can't bare to see the sight of a woman you considered as your mother cry and desperately yell for her son. You can bare to see Lo'ak as his hands were bloodied with his brother's blood. You didn't want to see them suffer anymore. You wished it hadn't ended like this.

The boy you loved was now laid on the ground, unmoving, a mother was calling for Eywa's help to save her son. A son, who had to face his unfortunate fate all because of one man.

How can mankind be so cruel?