#Because I do think people sometimes don’t take tags seriously | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

clockwayswrites · 7 months

Text

Danny & Constantine, Orange, Butterscotch Ripple

@imbreonix Prompt fill set #4

It started out as a joke that turned into an actual event: Bring Your Sidekick To Work Day. It sounded absurd, of course it did. The Justice League was hardly work and certainly not a social club, but once it had been said people started to actually think about it. More and more of the heroes were taking on mentorship rolls for the next generation. While the heroes, of course, tried their best to provide what their mentees needed, they were still grown, experienced heroes and their sidekicks were kids.

Kids who lived a life that most could never understand.

Eventually it have been talked about enough in passing and over rushed meals and before meetings that it ended up on the agenda.

“Robin believes it would be beneficial for the younger heroes to know others in the same positions as themselves,” Batman had explained, as if that answered anything. The Big Bat wouldn’t even clarify who Robin was.

But there they were, Bring Your Sidekick To Work Day. It actually was a pretty nice event with snacks, drinks, and several enthusiastic sidekicks. It turned out Robin was Batman’s sidekick.

“Partner,” Robin insisted boldly, whenever the term sidekick was used within his hear range (which was disturbingly good).

The kid was the very opposite of Batman: bright, personable, and always in motion. Flash was more than a little concerned how quickly Robin and Kid Flash seemed hit it off. “They’re plotting something.”

“Hn,” was Batman’s reply, though he was watching the two whispering sidekicks too.

All in all it was a cheerful success.

It made John’s skin crawl. He jiggled the unlit cigarette in his fingers. He didn’t do social events, not outside of bars, and he really, really didn’t want to be here.

“We can just go back to the House,” a small, nervous voice suggested hopefully from behind John.

That was the thing, though, he wasn’t here for his own sake.

“No, we can’t,” John said with a sigh.

“We really can, though. We haven’t even talked to anyone. I bet they haven’t even noticed we’re here—”

“John! I did not think you would be attending,” Wonder Woman said as she approached, a smile in place. A good chunk of the founding members trailed after her.

“Fuck.”

“Yeah, well,” John said with a little shrug. He didn’t admonish the kid for cussing, he didn’t have a leg to stand on there, but by Superman’s puzzled face the Big Blue had clearly heard it. “Figured I had better bring the kid.”

“The kid?” Hal repeated incredulously.

John reminded himself he really shouldn’t punch his teammates.

“Yeah, the kid,” John said. He stepped aside to reveal Danny who had been hiding behind him. “Geist, Justice League, Justice League, Poltergeist.”

“Um, who, Constantine?” Flash asked, sounding nervous.

John looked to his right, which for all appearances, was an empty spot of air. “Seriously, kid?”

“Sorry,” Danny whispered.

“It’s okay, kid,” John said, holding back a sigh. The kid was sensitive to that sort of thing, so John had been trying. (He still messed up plenty, but he was trying.) John looked back the Justice Leaguers and shrugged. “Ghost. Visibility is like that sometimes.”

“Ah,” Diana said with a sage nod. John admired the woman for how nothing seemed to phase her. She simply looked to where John had been looking and smiled. “Hello, Poltergeist. Welcome to Bring Your Sidekick To Work Day.”

“Partner!” a kid dressed like a damn traffic light called from across the room where he was talking to who was clearly a mini Flash.

“Oh,” Danny said. (It was clearly weirding out some of the heroes to hear Danny but not see him.) “I’m not… John doesn’t let me help that much? I don’t know if I count as a sidekick.”

“That’s because last time you tagged along you went intangible and fell through a bridge, kid,” John grumbled and then immediately felt bad. “You know we’re working on it.”

“Yeah,” Danny mumbled.

John couldn’t see Danny, not any more than the others, but he could picture the way the kid would be scuffing his toe on the floor, head down as he rubbed at the back of his neck.

John sighed. “Ain’t your fault kid, powers take time to master.”

“Robin,” Batman called.

Immediately the tiny traffic light was literately bounding across the space to stand next to Batman. The kid smiled up at the Big Bat like the man had hung the moon.

“Yes, B?”

“This,” Batman said, nodding to the empty space, “is Poltergeist. He came with Constantine.”

“Oh,” Robin said. He spun to face the spot of air and held out his hand without hesitation. “Come, Kid Flash and I are— um,” Robin shot Batman a look, “talking. You can join us! I bet you will be really useful!”

Flash mouthed the word ‘useful’ with a terrified look on his face, but no one actually said anything while Robin just stood there, smiling, with his hand out. And then Robin’s grin impossibly widened, his hand closed around nothing, and he took off across the room.

“…anyone else worried about that?” John asked after a moment.

“So worried,” Flash said.

“Hn,” Batman added.

“Right then. I need a glass of shitty punch to spike,” John said and abandoned his teammates to find the refreshments. Thank the gods, the fuckers, for hip flasks.

“I live with a ghost now, Bats, you’ve got to up your skills if you want to sneak up on me anymore,” John said before taking another sip of his much improved punch.

Batman stepped up into the corner of John’s vision, which felt like such a Bat thing to do, so John felt the placement was very purposeful. John wouldn’t complain, it let him watch Batman without taking his his eyes off where Danny was sitting with Robin, Kid Flash, and Wonder Girl. Danny was pretty see through, but he was slowly becoming more visible the longer he spent in the company of the other teen heroes.

“How long have you had him?” Batman asked.

John snorted. “That’s what you go with? Not how it works to fuck a ghost?”

Hal and Aquaman weren’t as quiet as they thought they were, but maybe that was on purpose. Maybe they had wanted John to hear. He just hoped the kids hadn’t. He might not have a clean mouth, but even he had limits.

“He doesn’t have to be your blood to be your son,” Batman said in that certain way of his.

It had John finally glancing over at Batman. It was a lot to admit and John hated to be on uneven grounds. “How long have you had yours?”

No one would ever believe him, but John could swear that Batman almost smiled.

“Nearly five years.”

John hummed and took another sip of the punch. “Only six months, not even. And he’s not my son. Kid deserves better than me as a da.”

“They always deserve better,” Batman said, his voice a low rumble that John swore he could feel in his battered bones. “We just have to try to be better.”

“Yeah, well,” John said with a bitter chuckle. “I’m not you, Bats, I don’t think I have better in me.”

“Yes you do, you’re here, after all,” Batman pointed out.

John swallowed and looked back the kid, his kid. Danny was almost solid now. His white hair floated as he threw back his head in laughter at something Robin had said.

“Yeah… yeah I am.”

---

AN: So. So. This has gotten away from me. I blame Moku. So much blame. I can't promise I'll continue it but there is... there is a good bit of plotting TO continue it. It would be after I get done with City Pigeons Bleed Green though, as that's my current family feels fic.

If it gets continued we have a John/Bruce tired dads with issues slow burn fuck buddies to lovers, Danny and Dick being friends (and family), canon divergence, Tim joins the Bat family early, Bats with magic (and the world should fear them), and Alfred's judgemental eyebrow.

#dp x dc #dadentine #John Constantine & Danny Fenton #Geist #prompalomp #tired dads

1K notes · View notes

catboybiologist · 9 months

Text

Hi! I’m CatboyBiologist.

Formerly a femboy, now a trans woman just starting HRT, and a PhD student in molecular biology. I started using this online persona as a fun, shitposty way to explore gender a few years ago. I post selfies (generally sfw, but somewhat sexy, so minors and ppl who don’t like that have been warned), rambles about science, tutorials and advice from the stuff I’ve learned by being a femboy in the past, nature pictures, stuff about the ocean, my adorable grumpy little tortoise, and unsolicited opinions on random nerdy topics. Any pronouns are fine. I don’t plan to socially transition for a while, and still present as a man most of the time, so I’m used to whatever you wanna use for me (for now, I’ll update this if that changes). Please send me pictures of your pets or other cute animals in your life!

As a scientist, I’m also documenting my transition! This google sheet will be updated at least monthly. I also have additional metrics I’m keeping to myself, and pictures that go with this, but I’m not sharing them publicly yet. Keep in mind that this is just one person’s experience with HRT, and may not represent universal trends!

Adding a little something here, bc I think it was an interesting bit a writing: if you want to see me respond to a transphobe about what "biologically female" means, here's a thing I wrote about it. CW for transphobia and discussion, obviously.

Also, if any of my measurements look weird, its entirely possible I fucked up. Let me know if anything looks off!

Here’s some of my favorite pre-HRT pictures:

If you want to see more of my pre-HRT selfies, browse the “femboy” tag on my blog!

And as of this writing, I’m only 2 days after the start of HRT, so here’s a picture with my tortoise that’s technically post-HRT (but with 0 time for actual changes):

If you want to see my future post-HRT selfies, browse the “trans selfie” tag on my blog!

Also here's another really cute picture and fanart of my tortoise by @whalesharkcat:

I have affectionately given my tortoise the title of The Grumpus.

I also wrote a couple of tutorials and general vibes about being a femboy before I started HRT:

Sometimes I make shitposts of myself, I don’t take myself too seriously:

This includes the way I came out on tumblr:

And here’s an overly serious, long ramble about trans thoughts and things that I wrote shortly afterwards:

Later addition: Someone asked how I take selfies, so I wrote a quick and dirty guide with some tips on how I do so in response to their ask:

Oh yeah and apparently I was a 196 microcelebrity? I never to thought I was popular enough for that but apparently some people do 🤷‍♀️. So uh, hi 196 tags, I'm abusing you for my pinned post LOL

As for terminology, I personally do think of myself as a “man who is becoming a woman” as opposed to having always been a woman. If that doesn’t resonate with your experience, I totally get that! But that’s why I freely call pre-HRT me a femboy, while still calling post-HRT me a trans woman. I’m also keeping the blog name as CatboyBiologist for the forseeable future, because at this point, Catboy just seems like a gender neutral term to me.

I’m also trying to put together a script for a podcast regarding how studying biology influenced my perspective on sex and gender- lmk if there’s any interest in that! It’s probably gonna be way too long and indulgent but oh well.

So uh. Yeah. I don’t end these types of things well. Byeeeeee

#196 #r196 #r/196 #rule #/r/196 #trans #transitioning #trans woman #trans femme #tortoise #tort #russian tortoise #trans tutorial #trans tummy tuesday #transgender #trans tumblr #trans selfie #trans journal

744 notes · View notes

2knightt · 7 days

Note

HII!! could you write the gang with a reader that has an rbf and seems really intimidating/unapproachable but is a sweetheart? they arent very talkative and seem very cold but their love language is acts of service/gift giving & sorta quality time?? <33

୧ ׅ𖥔 ۫ pretty as a vine, sweet as a grape. ⋄ 𓍯

…REQUESTED: you never judge a book by it’s cover. especially when it comes to y/n!

tags/warnings: people being judgy asf/spreading rumours, gang defending reader with their soul, reader is a softie i fear, reader is kinda shy, probably stupid:3c, steve threatening a manLMFAO

ೃauthor notes⁀➷ READER IS SO ME CODED HELLO also if two-bits part sounds stupid it ‘s because i’m high rn and even if can admit it’s a little iffy

—

dallas winston

thought of you as someone to be threatened by at first ngl

he heard of this scary, mean mugged, tuff looking girl and went ‘mh. an enemy🐺😒’

he went up to you one day, acting all tuff and shit just for you to look him up and down and nervously wave

look, he may not be the smartest cookie but he can see someone shy a mile away. and when he seen you wave, he felt like such an ass LMFAO

did he show it? no. obviously.

this is dallas. he’s an asshole.

“little miss tough girl, huh?”

“…pardon?”

that teasing from him DID continue until you walked away because dallas is the type to never back down, even when he’s wrong

expect for the next time you met him!!!!

he was actually asking you your name, where you’re from, etc, etc!!!

turning a new leaf dare i say…

and everything after that was history! cutest scary looking couple ever!

HE THINKS IT’S SOOO FUNNY THAT PEOPLE ARE SCARED OF YOU LMFAOOO

he plays into it sm if someone brings it up bro

“y/n? like..scary y/n?”

“yeah, like scary y/n. and i’ll get ‘er on ya if you keep talkin’ ‘bout her.”

“oh!😰”

he thinks it’s so silly to see you look really pissed off when he isn’t around just to greet you and see your whole demeanour change!!

dallas thinks it’s so cute😭 it’s like one of his favourite things about you!

“😠😒”

“hey, baby.”

“oh! hi, dal!<3”

LMFAO IMAGINE SOMEONE SEEING YOU, A MEAN LOOKING GIRL, SHOPPING FOR MENS LEATHER JACKETS

yuppp spoil that dickhead!😫 he lovelovelovesss getting gifts, ESPECIALLY from u!!!

if you’re clingy, i feel like he wouldn’t mind it. he teases THE FUCK out of u tho!😊

“big tough girl wants to hold hands, eh?”

“…yea😞.”

“awh, look at ya. come ‘ere.”

johnny cade

you might think he’d be scared and intimidated, right? but NO! he’s literally bff’s with ponyboy, he knows damn well what rbf is!

you two are sooo cute together

little kicked, scared puppy with his feral doberman!!!

tells people to stfu whenever they try and spread rumours that you’re scary, mean, and rude.

“you’re dating y/n? don’t you know she-“

“i don’t care, shut up. ‘s not like you know her😒.”

sometimes refuses your gifts.

johnny’s not used to them :( but all u gotta do is say please and flutter your lashes and u got em!!!!

“i can’t take it.”

“please?😞”

“…okay😣.”

and he DOES NOT regret it! he might fight you at first, but he cherishes those gifts with his life<3!

loveloveloveLOVESSS having u around constantly!! since your love language is quality time, you two are always hanging out together.

and, with your scary looks, you often keep the socs away from him!

hip-hip, hooray‼️‼️

the gang was like…worried for johnny at first.

THEY DIDN’T KNOW U WERE COOL THO😭😭💔💔💔

they were all like, “??seriously, johnny?? you pick the meanest girl?? ever???” and johnny was QUICK to defend. “y’all ain’t even meet her, and you’re already sayin’ she’s bad for me?”

when they did though, they were like ‘ohhhh….she really isn’t rude…..oh….’

HE’S SO PROUD TO DATE U THO LMFAOOO

and to know the real you?? treats it like an HONOUR

ponyboy curtis

was intimidated by you.

forgot he was also like you and accidentally glares at people who walk past him LMFAOOOO

You two are like two peas in a pod istg!!

“you look mean from far away,”

“???so do you, pony??”

“…no??”

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN, ‘NO’?”

mean looking couple who are truly just a bunch of nerds deep down to their soul<3

the gang was a little protective of ponyboy until they realized ur just like him LMFAO

They get having an rbf<3

pony loves spending time with you!

gift him a book and he’ll love you forever!!! (maybe even read it to you when you two are finally alone to help you fall asleep🤍)

he’s such a cutie…..

stays close to you in public because he thinks you’re scarier looking than anyone he’s ever met😊😊.

“cm’ere,”

“why?🤨”

“BECAUSE🙄!”

SCARY DOG Y/N IS REAL.

glares at anyone who goes around telling people that you’re mean and rude.

if looks could kill, they’d be dead already!!!

ponyboy does not fuck around with u i fear.

Sodapop Curtis

LMFAOOO GREEK GOD OF A MAN WITH HIS PISSED OFF GF WHO IS NERVOUSLY HOLDING HIS HAND !!!

he was NOT afraid of you!! in fact, he thought the rumours of you being an asshole were all fake

“you talkin’ about y/n?”

“yes, bro! they’re so rude-“

“how do you know?”

“well, i don’t-“

“so, shut up?😒”

cuz like??? did they not bother to understand you???

soda literally made it his mission to prove that you weren’t a dick!!😭😭

and GODDAMN HE WAS SO RIGHT

you’re such a sweetheart to soda! he lovesss telling people about how cute you are around him since it’s his own way to squash the rumours.

“my y/n is so sweet, you wouldn’t get it.”

“isn’t she the same girl who beat the soc to a pulp?”

“she can barely kill a fly.”

you don’t need to do much to scare off the girls that flirt with him at the DX, just a nice little glare every now and then and they’re already gone!

(soda doesn’t have to know that you play into the rumours sometimes. it’s our little secret.)

steve randle

HATES EVERYONE WHO TALKS ABOUT YOU

he’s petty AS FUCK LMFAOOO

they can’t handle the randle😜💯

“ew, y/n-“

“MAN, GET THE FUCK OUTTA MY FACE WITH THAT WHAT DO YOUUU KNOW ABOUT Y/N🗣️‼️”

that was an over exaggeration but you get the point.

gets very defensive when people try and ‘warn’ him about you lmfao

gift him a tool box and he’ll use it until it’s literally falling apart at the bolts<3

no seriously. it could be holding on by one screw and he’ll still use it. he doesn’t gaf. steve will use anything u give him.

he accepts ur rbf cause he thinks it’s SO FUNNY?? like he’ll see you far away with your friends looking all angry before one of them says a really funny joke and just watches your expression change so quickly

one of his fav things ever<3!

two-bit mathews

he makes so much jokes about it LMFAOOO

“jesus, y/n! you sure yer glare ain’t the thing that killed the dinosaurs?”

—

“swear i see the devil in yours eyes sometimes. it looks soooo good on you, though🤭🤭”

HE THINKS ITS SO ATTRACTIVE

and he lovesss your sweetheart side sm it’s like he gets best of both worlds

RAHH GIFT TWO-BIT MICKEY PLUSHIE OR ELSE

He’d totally have it on his bed 24/7. his sister has tried to steal it before to scare him btw.

skmetimes just to spend time together with him—you just go walking around town with him while he has an arm around your shoulder the whole time<3

#2knightt #the outsiders #the outsiders x reader #dallas winston x reader #johnny cade x reader #ponyboy x reader #ponyboy curtis x reader #sodapop curtis x reader #sodapop x reader #steve randle x reader #darry curtis x reader #two-bit mathews x reader #two-bit x reader

238 notes · View notes

ms-demeanor · 8 months

Note

Not to be rude or derailing your answer to the ask about the scorched earth post, but I do think quite genuinely that the site is becoming more openly hostile to its userbase, or at the very least its disabled userbase. While I’m not a fan of mobbing people’s personal blogs in targeted harassment campaigns, I think some people are also ignoring that staff blatantly said in a recent post that epileptic users would need to pay for ad-free to have their safety assured

I kind of don’t think that’s being ethical or user friendly, to me that sounds like they’re refusing to meet basic accessibility requests and answering with ‘pay us money to be safe’. Strobing and flashing ads aren’t just eyestraining, they can legitimately lead to serious injuries for epileptic folk, and telling people with epilepsy to just pay up or get lost is kinda… I dunno… disgusting?

So it looks like in a livestream (not on a post so far as I've been able to see) either photomatt or zingring made a glib and inappropriate response to an epileptic user asking about flashing ads and suggested that maybe they needed to pay for ad-free.

That's bad, I don't like it, and if it was supposed to be a joke it was a shitty one.

Zingring, tumblr's COO addressed that comment in a post where she said:

Buying ad-free (or gifting ad-free to someone else) is always an option, but that is not the solution (and of course, some folks simply can’t afford it). Sorry that it sounded dismissive in the session! That was not my intent.

I still think that's inappropriate (it's not that ad free isn't *the* solution, ad free shouldn't be *a* solution to accessibility), but it looks like Zingring has addressed this issue multiple times.

She got tagged in this post listing ways that tumblr could improve accessibility for photosensitive users and seems to have pretty consistently followed up; she has explained that there are rules against flashing ads that are sometimes violated by the advertisers and asks people to please report ads that break those rules so those advertisers can be blocked, has noted that there is apparently a "stop all autoplay" option in the works behind the scenes. She does also seem to take it seriously when users reach out with complaints about accessibility issues and seems to be willing to explore options.

Looking through that blog, this does not seem to be a site that is hostile to users with accessibility issues so much as, like everything else that's wrong around here, it is ridiculously understaffed so every project that someone wants to have as a priority is a project that someone else needs put on the backburner.

However, to very gently push back: how much of what you're experiencing as hostility from tumblr is actual hostility and how much of it is seeing posts like this, which suggests that tumblr is removing accessibility features because the lightbox didn't have double-tap-to-zoom on mobile for some users for a short while, claims that the blocking/flagging issue is a false flag against trans women, shared the inaccurate fearmongering post about tumblr live's ToS, and also claimed that tumblr "allowed" flashing ads that violated the in-place rules that tumblr has for advertising?

(this kind of goes with the 'nobody understands the ToS' but also nobody understands ads; tumblr does not have enough staff to look over the ads that go on their site every day, no social media company does, they rely on advertiser agreements as a sort of enhanced honor system and reports from users if the advertisers don't hold up their end of the bargain; the only way around this for any site that uses ads is to not have ads and that post is explicitly saying don't pay for tumblr because they are doing ads wrong - either they have to run ads and some bad ones are going to slip through and users will have to report them or tumblr will have to be 100% paid by the users or tumblr will go away. If you see ads that are unsafe for photosensitive users on *any* website you should report them to the site because the site almost certainly doesn't know that there's an advertiser violating the ad ToS unless someone tells them)

Generally speaking, I am actually *not* seeing worsening accessibility features, I'm seeing improvements compared to where we were five years ago - alt text on images is now built-in and devs are working hard on making tumblr more compatible with screen readers (as noted in the changes blog regularly); tumblr itself started offering different dashboard themes for users after years of complaints about contrast levels and readability; the "tiktok/twitterified" desktop dash view that everyone hates is supposed to be more readable on wider screens.

Compare this post in October of 2022 when Changes celebrated adding animations for posting (and told users those could only be disabled at an OS or browser level) with this post from July 2023 when they rolled back a feature because of an unexpected use case that could cause problems for photosensitive users.

These aren't things that I'd expect to see from a company that didn't care about accessibility, or that was openly hostile to questions around making the site more accessible.

I don't disagree with you that the comment from the stream about buying ad free was inappropriate; it absolutely was and it must have made photosensitive users feel like shit. But in the three months since that comment tumblr has been very responsive about getting flashing ads removed as soon as possible and seems to be working on more permanent fixes. I think this may be an instance of able-bodied people not realizing how shitty and dehumanizing their joke was (and it was) and taking the steps to do better.

If you don't think they're doing better, I probably can't convince you. I certainly don't think that tumblr is perfect about accessibility and I think that users need to continue pushing for improved user control of how the site displays and interacts with various devices. But compared to the kind of responses users complaints got from staff in 2018? I feel like things have improved a lot.

560 notes · View notes

unsolvedjarin · 8 months

Note

Can we have more mentor!Seb x Ferrari driver!reader? Maybe she wins in Monza the same season as the last fic? 👀

note: sorry it took me so long to get to this request, life has been KILLING me lately. this one is pretty short but hopefully you enjoy!

FOCUS.

part one here but can be read without <3

pairing: (mentor! sebastian vettel x ferrari driver! reader) (mick schumacher x ferrari driver! reader AT THE END)

summary: monza was never an easy race, and that certainly wasnt changing anytime soon. but maybe some luck is on your side this year— and a supportive mentor.

content warning: none besides my verb tenses being all over the place

Max had gotten pole. So not good for you.

You lost P2 as well to Lewis by two-tenths of a second, but P3 was fine, P3 was good. Hopefully good enough for today. It was finally Sunday, and you couldn’t be more excited— it was finally Monza.

“Well the goal is to win,” you say, although it comes out muffled with food in your mouth. Sebastian had invited you to paddock brunch on race day, and you were not one to turn down free food.

Swallowing, you add, “I mean obviously the goal is to win. We’re in Monza, that’s every Ferrari driver's goal.”

The Aston Martin driver had been listening intently to your complaints about Ferrari’s performance recently, and from what he’s hearing, it’s not looking good. Not only was the car lacking in pace, the team itself had bad strategies left and right. While you had gotten a podium back in Spa, it was starting to look like it'd be the last podium for Ferrari for a while.

Charles had DNF’ed last race, and you ended up P9. Not a great result, but it still kept you third in the Construction Championship. This race, however, was too special to have a mediocre result.

It was the home of the Tifosi; the people, the cheers, the chants, it was all for Ferrari— all for you. You couldn’t lose in Monza.

“So you think you’ll win later then?” Sebastian asks, taking a bite of his own food.

“Well I don’t don’t think I’ll win, so there’s that.”

“What a strange type of confidence.”

“Thanks, I try.”

Sebastian laughs, a genuine one that makes you smile as well. You’d been spending more time with him since learning about his retirement at the end of the season, which says a lot when you were already always together. He didn’t mind though, he loved spending time with you above all the other people on the grid– well, except for Mick. He tagged along sometimes when he could. You liked having him around too.

“If it amounts to anything, I think you can win it.”

He always says that. ‘If it amounts to anything’ or ‘If it matters,’ as if everything he says wasn’t important to you when it was. “Thanks Seb, but save that optimism for yourself, you need it,” you tease.

You say it in a joking manner, but Seb knew there was a hint of seriousness to your words. Aston Martin hadn’t been performing well either, and if you considered Ferrari’s performance bad, then you could call theirs atrocious. You knew it wasn’t Seb’s fault, he had been trying to contribute to the efficiency of the car with his knowledge and he pushed it every race.

Nodding, he sighs, and you can sense the tiredness in his breath. 2 years of a slow car will do that to you. Before you could give him any comfort, however, a Ferrari employee calls out your name for you to get ready for the race.

“Good luck Schatzi, I believe in you,” Seb says, getting up from his seat. You get up and hug him tightly, smiling when he hugs you back just as tight.

“You too Sebby.”

“Do what I couldn’t,” you hear him whisper.

You don’t reply. You don’t tell him, ‘I’m sorry,’ because he already knows. He knows because you’ve told him it before many different times on many different races when he used to drive for Ferrari– but you’ll always remember Monza.

It was his dream, the most important thing he wanted out of joining Ferrari besides winning the championship with them. But he never got it. Every year he was there, something took the win out of his grasp. Engine failure, collision, slow pace, no grip, it didn’t matter what the reason was. He never got it.

You separate, both going to get ready. You’ll make him proud, you think to yourself.

The race was tight. Lewis was giving you a good fight, always just less than a second away, but conveniently farther whenever you were in a DRS zone which meant you couldn’t overtake him. Thankfully, he slipped up during a straight, and gave you enough slipstream and space to pass him.

Then it was just you and Max. He was 10 seconds away, and you were so sure it was over. But then he pitted a little too long, giving you enough time to take his position.

And then you were leading.

You were leading in a Ferrari in Monza.

Holy fucking shit.

Just one more lap, one more and you could see it– you could see the end.

“...Y/N L/N SEES THE CHECKERED FLAG, AND COMES TO WIN THE ITALIAN GRAND PRIX! FOR THE FIRST TIME SINCE 2019, FERRARI WINS IN THEIR HOME RACE!”

You couldn’t believe it.

You won. You won in Monza. In a Ferrari.

You did it.

If the screams of the fans were loud in Spa, the cheers of the emotional Tifosi were deafening here. Exiting your car, still shellshocked, you’re immediately approached by Max, who gave you a quick hug in congratulations.

Slightly snapping out of your buzzed state, you run towards your crew who was on the other side of the barrier, practically jumping into their arms. They couldn’t believe it either. When you finally removed your helmet, the muffled sounds of everything else suddenly became clear, and somehow the already thundering roars of the crowd had gotten louder.

Despite all that commotion, all that chaos and celebration, there was only one man you were looking for. You heard he had DNF’ed, which meant he would be in his garage, but you didn’t care. You were going to look for him before you got on that damn podium.

While Max and Lewis went to the cooldown room, you got ready to sneak out and go to the Aston Martin garage, when a hand grabs yours and spins you around to face them. It takes you a second to realize what was happening, but when you did– “SEBASTIAN!”

He enveloped you in a hug, lifting you off the ground and spinning you around. You could hear his proud laughs, and you started laughing as well. You had done it.

“I ca-”

“I-”

You both start at the same time, making you both laugh even harder. You gesture for him to start first, and he does. “I can’t believe it. You actually fucking did it,” he says, the joy evident in his cussing.

He walks with you back towards the Podium, an arm around your shoulder looking proud. When you get to the side stage you pause in protest, but he reads your mind before you can say anything. “Go, we’ll talk later.” He gives you a little nudge, and off to the platform you go.

You asked Charles once, and he told you that when you get up there on the platform, everything goes quiet. You would see the crowd, the fans clad in red, and you would feel the love, but you wouldn’t hear it– as if all their cheers mixed together into a large vast silence. One thing would come into focus, and when you see what you’ve focused on, it’ll all make sense. For him, it was a man wearing a shirt with the number 17 on it. In the large mobs, it was the one thing his eyes had focused on.

For you, however, it wasn’t in the crowd. It wasn’t in the endless support of the Tifosi, nor the trophy given to you. No, it was in the man you could see in your peripheral vision, standing on the side, clapping proudly and looking at you as if no one else was on the podium.

Sebastian. It was him. Your mentor, your father figure, your friend. You finally understood what Charles was always rambling about. That loving feeling— not one you feel with a romantic partner, but the one that buries itself deep into your soul and grows over time, unseen and unnoticed, but when you finally focus on it, everything makes sense.

The second the podium festivities ended, you ran into Sebastian’s arms and hugged him tightly, not minding the cameras all around you. He didn’t understand what was happening, but he hugged you back, not letting you go.

Tomorrow— not today while the chaos of the fans was still ongoing— the media will spew rumors about you and the older driver, but you don’t care. Not when you’re finally happy here; content.

With content tears flowing freely down your face— along with some champagne from earlier— you finally disconnected from the hug, looking at Sebastian with a grin.

He looked confused, “What’s happening? Are you alright? Is everything okay?”

Shaking your head with a laugh, you reply, “It’s fine, everythings okay. I just— I can’t believe I did it. And with you watching. I couldn’t be happier.”

Sebastian takes a moment to intake what you said. He had never felt this way before. Never felt so utterly proud of someone. You had done what he never could, had finally achieved the Ferrari dream he had always wanted for himself. He could see himself in you now, the sheer joy of a win with a team he always wanted to win with. He couldn’t be more happy for you too.

“Sebastian?” you ask, worried about his silence. Maybe what you said was too much, too forward. But then he smiles softly at you, and you can see the tears welling in his eyes.

“You have no idea how proud I am of you.”

You breathe a sigh of relief, “Oh thank god, I thought you were thinking of scowling in disgust or worse; not hearing what I said and making me repeat it.”

He laughs, a hearty one, and you laugh as well. The roar of the crowd was still loud, but amidst all the chaos, your eyes still only focused on one person.

“Dinner?” he asks softly.

“Yeah, let’s get dinner.”

a bit of bonus for my mick girls out there:

“Y/N!” you hear a voice shout from across the paddock. It catches your attention, and you turn your head to the Mercedes hospitality where the voice came from. Sebastian is beside you, an arm around your shoulder, accompanying you for a post-race dinner.

“Mick! What’s up?” you ask, disconnecting from Sebastian’s hold to walk towards him. He meets you in the middle, giving you a quick hug before smiling.

“I just wanted to congratulate you on your win. We should celebrate!” he says, pausing for a moment as if thinking how to word his next sentence. “I was thinking— just a random thought really— we could…go out to dinner to celebrate? I mean just throwing ideas out there, you don’t have to.”

He’s looking everywhere but at you at this point, his eyes pointed down at his shoes and you can see his hands fiddling in his pockets. You notice Toto Wolff watching from the hospitality, but you pay no attention to him, instead keeping your eyes on the man in front of you.

“I’m sorry Mick I would love to, but I’m actually going out to dinner with Seba—”

“He can come,” Sebastian butts in. “He can join us, I have no problem with it.”

“Oh, then great!” you exclaim, nudging Mick softly. He looks up at you with a slight red dusting on his cheeks you don’t notice. Oblivious, you intertwine your arm with his, walking with Seb tailing the both of you.

You ramble on about the race to him and don’t notice when he turns his head around to face Sebastian quickly, who was giving Mick two thumbs up with a cheeky grin. The younger driver blushes softly, before going back to facing you and listening to you talk.

Unbeknownst to the both of you, however, the older driver was already secretly thinking of an excuse to get the two of you alone at dinner.

802 notes · View notes

runnning-outof-time · 5 months

Text

More Than Charm | Tommy Shelby x Reader

Request: no - part two of Actions Speak Louder … inspired by a comment from @holacia3

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Reader

Summary: Tommy’s got a lot of making up to do, both to (Y/N) and her parents. To anyone else, this would be a challenging feat….but Tommy Shelby isn’t anyone else.

Warnings: drinking, language

Word Count: 2493

A/N: I’m sorry it took so long for this second part to be written. If you’re still interested enough to see what happens next, thanks so much for sticking around. I’m not 100% sure it came out how I wanted it to, but I’m happy with it nonetheless. Enjoy! :)

A/N 2: oh and what a better time to post this than on the day they got married? - thank you to @eatdirt420 for suggesting I pick a day in between the two seasons that won…I hope this day is considered to be that!

I’D LOVE TO KNOW WHAT YOU THINK! - YOUR COMMENTS & REBLOGS HELP ME WRITE!

Comment/Message me if you’d like to be tagged in future stories similar to this one!

- December 12th, 1920 -

If you told (Y/N) that this day would finally come around, she probably would have laughed in your face.

Tommy proposed to her in October of 1913. They were planning to have their wedding in August of the next year. But no one had anticipated the fact that Tommy and his brothers would have been shipped out to fight a war in France just one month prior.

The wedding had to be postponed due to the conflict, and it stayed postponed for seven long years - both due to the war continuing longer than anyone could have imagined, and also because of the ‘mess’ that Tommy and the family business got themselves into just shortly after they returned from the Western Front in 1919.

(Y/N) thought it’d be better to wait, to allow their wedding to have the spotlight that she felt it deserved. But she’d by lying if she said that the prospect of her walking down the aisle got bleaker with every year that passed.

But today it finally happened. She finally walked down the aisle, took her fiancé’s hands, and vowed herself to him for the rest of her life. He, in return, vowed the same for her, and she and Tommy then walked back down the aisle as husband and wife.

Now it was time for the reception.

Tommy and (Y/N) decided to take a moment to themselves before going out and greeting all of the people who joined them on their special day.

“What’s wrong?” he asked her as he shut the door behind them, making sure they were alone in one of the rooms just of off the large banquet hall. He noticed that something had been eating at his wife since the ceremony was finished.

“Nothing,” she quickly responded, noticing instantly after she’d answered him that her haste had given her true feelings away.

“You’re picking at your nails, love,” he nodded at her hands, catching her in the act, “something’s bothering you. What is it?”

(Y/N) took a deep breath and let it out as a sigh. “My parents, Tommy,” she answered, her response only scratching the surface of what she wanted to say.

“What about ‘em?” he asked with furrowed brows.

“I’m worried what they’re thinking…how they’re taking this,” she divulged.

“Fuck what they’re thinking,” he was quick to brush it off, and he promptly earned a glare from his wife in response.

“Seriously? You can’t just say that,” she said, looking at him with wide eyes. Tommy stayed silent. (Y/N) turned from him with a huff, pressing the heels of her hands into her eyes in hopes to alleviate some of the stress and worry she was feeling. “You can be so crass sometimes, Thomas,” she sighed, shaking her head as she looked at the ground.

“I’ve got this covered, love,” he responded, moving to stand behind her.

“I’ve heard that before,” she remarked, snorting after she spoke.

“I’ve got it covered,” he assured her, wrapping his arms around her midriff so he could pull her flush against him.

“Please don’t mess this up,” she whispered as she placed her hands atop his forearms.

“I won’t,” he mumbled as he pressed his lips to her neck.

(Y/N) couldn’t help but lean into his touch, her eyes slowly closing as she got lost in the feeling of his lips pressed to her skin. “We’ve gotta get out there, Tommy,” she finally spoke after a few moments had passed.

“They’ll be fine for a few more minutes,” he disregarded her statement, continuing his ministrations.

“Tommy,” the repeating of his name came as a breath this time.

“Just wanna spend some time with me wife,” he mumbled before spinning her around so that he could kiss her lips.

The reception was in full swing now. Tommy and (Y/N) had been playing host, going around to all of the guests and thanking them for being part of their big day. (Y/N) was so happy to see Tommy back to acting like his old self. Usually his smiles and lighthearted behavior were reserved for her eyes only but today, while in front of family and friends, his guard had been completely lowered.

Her parents hadn’t yet made a scene, which (Y/N) was thankful for because they very well could have if they wanted to. They stood off to the side and watched with smiles as their daughter celebrated her wedding day. (Y/N) wasn’t sure if she should be relieved or worried that Tommy hadn’t gone over to them yet.

“Don’t look now, (Y/N),” (Y/N)’s sister, Josephine, started while looking over the younger woman’s shoulder, “but Tommy’s on his way over to mum.”

(Y/N) looked as soon as her sister finished speaking. Sure enough, Tommy was now talking to her mother. She held her breath as she watched the two conversate.

“What is he going to do?” she wondered aloud, frozen as she silently hoped that this wouldn’t be the time where the train got derailed.

The two talked for a moment longer before Tommy offered his hand to her. Time seemed to go slow as (Y/N) watched a smile form on her mother’s face before she accepted Tommy’s hand and allowed him to lead her to to the dance floor.

“He got her to dance,” Josephine pointed out, grabbing hold of her sister’s arm as a look of shock formed on her face, “no one gets mum to dance.”

“And it looks like she’s enjoying it,” (Y/N) remarked, feeling an immense relief wash over her as she caught the wide smile that was present on her mother’s face.

“Leave it up to Tommy Shelby, right?” Josephine grinned as she looked over at her sister.

(Y/N) couldn’t help but blush. She tried to play it off, but the fact that Josie’s grin grew made it obvious that she had caught her initial reaction. “Yeah,” she conceded with a slight nod before adding, “but mum’s the easier of the two to convince. I’m interested to see what he’s got planned for dad.”

The evening had gone as swimmingly as it could have. There were many laughs and smiles, and the love could practically be felt in the room.

The dance seemed to do the trick: (Y/N)’s mother had decided to put her feelings of hesitance in the past and accepted Tommy as her son-in-law. Her only qualm now was that the two hadn’t gotten married sooner.

Much like (Y/N) predicted though, her father was going to be a harder person to sway. He stayed at the table for most of the evening, watching the event happen around him. She tried to get him involved a few times, but to no avail. The only time he stepped away from his seat was for the father-daughter dance.

“Is your father still here?” Tommy asked (Y/N) as the evening was drawing to a close.

“Let me see…” she trailed off, peering around his shoulder to find the table her parents had been sitting at, “he is,” she affirmed when she found him in the same seat he’d been occupying all evening. “Why do you ask?” she couldn’t help but question the reasoning behind his concern.

“I’ve not gotten to talk to him yet,” he answered.

“He’s not going to be as easy to sway as my mother was,” (Y/N) warned.

“Doesn’t mean I can’t try, eh?” he cracked a grin. (Y/N) couldn’t help but smile at his determination.

“Please don’t make things worse,” she said before he could leave her side.

“I won’t,” he assured her, leaning in and pressing his lips to her forehead before he turned and walked away from her.

“(Y/N)!” she then heard from behind her. She turned to find Ada approaching her with Freddie in tow. There went the plan of watching Tommy try to smooth-talk her father. “I’ve been looking for you,” the Shelby woman stated as she pulled her new sister-in-law into a hug.

“You’ve found me,” (Y/N) smiled once the two ladies pulled away. She made sure to also acknowledge Freddie, who sent a smile back.

“I wanted to let you know that we’re leaving. It’s getting late and we don’t want to keep Karl’s sitter for too long,” Ada informed her.

“Oh that’s fine. Thank you both for coming,” (Y/N) smiled.

“It was absolutely lovely! We’re thrilled to have you as part of the family now,” Ada said with a smile before asking, “would you happen to know where my brother has run off to?”

“He trying to have a word with my father,” (Y/N) answered, watching as Ada’s eyes widened slightly.

“Best of luck with that,” she stated, “but knowing Tommy, he’ll be able to settle the score.”

“I can hope,” (Y/N) smiled softly, hoping it hid her true emotions. “Thanks again for coming tonight.”

“We wouldn’t have missed it for anything,” Ada smiled before pulling the other woman into one last hug.

By the time the Thornes had left her side, (Y/N) turned again to find Tommy sitting at the same table as her father. They were talking, and by the looks of it, her father seemed to actually be interested in the conversation. (Y/N) felt a smile creep onto her lips as they both lifted their glasses in unison for a drink.

“Whiskey…it sure does help men forget their differences,” the voice of her mother came from beside her, making (Y/N) jump at the sudden company.

“Mum,” she couldn’t help but gasp, her reaction making the other woman laugh. She shook her head and let out a sigh, her smile returning as her mother pulled her into her side. “Tommy really brought whiskey over for him?” she asked.

“He did,” her mum answered with a nod, “was really polite in asking if he could talk with him privately.”

“I can only imagine what they’re talking about,” (Y/N) stated, silently hoping that whatever it was wouldn’t ruin their chances at married life before it even began.

“Oh horses and betting, I’m sure,” her mother threw out a few ideas. “So long as he doesn’t coax him down to Watery Lane, we’ll be grand,” she then added in a nonchalant manner.

(Y/N)’s eyes widened as they found her mother’s. She’d never explicitly told her about the business that Tommy and his family ran. Right now she felt like a child who’d been caught doing something she wasn’t supposed to. That was why the smile that formed on her mother’s face made confusion wash over her. Why is she smiling? she couldn’t help but think to herself.

“The Shelby name is spoken all around Small Heath, darling. It’s hard not to know about the business they’re involved in,” her mother explained her reaction, making her daughter immediately go into panic mode.

“You’re not upset about that, are you?” (Y/N) asked in a weary tone.

“I’m not,” the older woman started, shaking her head softly, “you’ve been with him for a long time now, and he’s not once shown that he wants to be anywhere other than by your side. He’s a good man to you, (Y/N), anyone can see that. I’m happy that he’s the one you married because I know that you’ll be safe with him.”

“I’m so happy to hear that you think that, mum,” (Y/N) said with a wide smile. She couldn’t help but wrap her arms around the older woman and hug her tightly. All of the worries she was harboring had now vanished.

“You’re going to have a lovely life with him,” her mother whispered as she held her daughter tighter.

“I’m not sure what you did, but you made them love you, Tommy,” (Y/N) said as she worked on making sure all of her jewelry was removed.

“You should have trusted me,” he responded, standing from the bed after he’d taken his shoes off. He then moved over to where she was standing so that he could wrap his arms around her waist from behind.

“I should have,” (Y/N) mumbled as she tried to fight the smile that was threatening to form on her face.

“What was that?” Tommy asked as he lifted his chin from her shoulder so that he could look her in the eyes through the mirror. His eyes were wide now and there was a grin teetering on his lips also. He definitely caught what she said…he just wanted to hear it again.

“Oh nothing…” (Y/N) trailed off, playing coy as she bit on her bottom lip.

“Did you just say that I was right?” he tried to coax the answer out of her.

“I said nothing,” (Y/N) held steadfast, although her grin was peeking through despite her attempts to keep it hidden.

“Fine…I’ll just have to use another means of getting it out of you,” Tommy decided, not giving her a moment to process what he said before he was dragging her backwards and - gently - pushing her onto the bed. “What was it you said, love?” he questioned between the kisses he was peppering all over her face, his hands finding the sensitive spots on her sides.

“Tommy!” she shrieked, trying so hard to catch her breath through her giggles. Despite her attempts to either stop his hands or take hold of his face, Tommy continued his barrage of kisses and tickles. “I should have trusted you!”

“What was that?” he stopped all at once, holding himself above her as their eyes met.

“I should have trusted you,” (Y/N) repeated herself once she caught her breath. She took hold of his cheeks with both of her hands and searched his eyes for a moment before adding, “I must’ve forgotten how much of a charmer you are.” She couldn’t help but smile as she watched a grin crack through his composure. If only she could have photographed this moment or found a way to freeze time.

“I managed to keep you for all these years somehow, didn’t I?” he countered, his grin growing, “that wasn’t because of luck alone.”

“I think it was more than your charm that made me stay, Tommy,” she admitted, her smile widening.

“Oh yeah?” his question sounded like he was challenging her.

“Yeah,” her quick response told him what she was up for the challenge.

“Wanna tell me all of those other reasons?” he asked then, one of his eyebrows raising as he spoke.

“Gladly,” (Y/N)’s smile grew more, if that was even possible. Her eyes then flitted down to his lips before returning to his again. “I think I’ll start with your kisses,” she stated, leaving him with no time to respond before she pulled his lips down to match hers in a passionate kiss.

Tagged: @mystcldydrms @the-anxious-youth @cloudofdisney @look-at-the-soul @elenavampire21 @mrsalwayswrite @julkaamazing @evita-shelby @lilyrachelcassidy @notyour-valentine @shelbydelrey @theshelbyslimited @peakyswritings @just-a-blackhole @watercolorskyy @strayrockette @peakyduchesss @alexxavicry @captivatedbycillianmurphy @yummycastiel @dark-academia-slut @tommystargirl @emotionalcadaver @stevie75 @lyarr24 @signorellisantichrist @zablife @anotherblinder @cillmequick @dandelionprints @letal-y-poetica @gypsy-girl-08 @insanitybyanothername @depxiety @raincoffeeandfandoms @dragons-are-my-favorite @acewritesfics @forgottenpeakywriter @cljordan-imperium @brummiereader @areyenotfondofmelobster @everythingelseisextra @little-diable @thomashelbyswife @shaddixlife

MASTERLIST

#tommy shelby #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby x y/n #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby one shot #tommy shelby oneshot #tommy shelby fanfic #tommy shelby fanfiction #peaky blinders #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders x y/n #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders one shot #peaky blinders oneshot #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic

334 notes · View notes

a-spes · 8 months

Text

T H E B L O O D O N M Y H A N D S - One shot.

Words count - 3,2k.

Tags & Warnings - Natasha Romanoff x reader, angst / comfort, a form of self-harm, mentions of death and blood.

Summary - When you kill someone on duty for the first time, Natasha is the one being here to stop you from falling.

— — — — —

You haven’t been a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent for long, barely more than three years. It may seem long for some people but, in that kind of job, it is not. Although your training ended up a long time ago, your teammates are still calling you a Rookie because even after years of duty, you still have a lot of things to learn, some the hard way.

You guess this nickname will stick with you until a new recruit joins the agency. It has been three years that no one passed the entrance exam so you are still seen as the newest addition which pisses you off sometimes. It is frustrating to not be taking seriously just because you are a bit less experienced than your teammates, some of them only been on the agency for one more year than you but are acting cocky with it.

However, despite your teammates’ attitude, you are convinced you are right where you are supposed to be : even if some days are rough, you love this job. Honestly, you never planned to join the agency but now you are here, you don’t want to leave.

You have always dreamed about becoming a police officer, not some kind of governmental spy. You ended up here thanks to a bit of fate and, mostly, thanks to the help of one of your professors. At the police academy, you were doing great, you were among the best of your promotion, that is why Mr. Andrews suggested you to take the entrance exam for the S.H.I.E.L.D. Academy. Before that day, you had never heard about the agency, but you still decided to give it a try, it was the least you could do to thanks him for everything he did.

Surprisingly, you succeed the exam and earned a place at the academy, alongside with two of your classmates. You weren’t sure it was what you wanted to do, but it was probably your only chance to give it a try so you went to the academy, thinking you could always leave if it doesn’t suit you. Yet, it has been the best decision you made.

Surely, you doubted it sometimes, thinking about quitting because the training was so hard, both physically and mentally, that you thought you couldn’t take it anymore. But you stayed, not being alone helped you a lot so, even if you doubted a lot your decision, you never regretted it.

Until today.

One day was enough to change everything. The first rule in the job is that you know nothing. Every mission is different, every mission could go wrong at any moment, it is impossible to be prepared to what it could bring to you. After three years of duty, you tend to forget about that rule. Up to now, everything went smooth, except for a few injuries you got, you were lucky.

It was supposed to be a routine mission, not much different than the previous ones. Your team was supposed to take back some important documents, so you needed to infiltrate the hotel the guys who stole it were staying.

“I get it”, you whisper in the communication device.

But when you are about to leave the room, you hear the voices of two persons. You don’t have much time, so you decide to quickly hide under the bed, you wish there was a better place but all you can do is waiting here, praying they won’t notice your presence. However, it seems fate is not on your side tonight.

After maybe ten minutes of waiting that felt like an eternity, you eventually feel someone pulling you from under the bed by grabbing your legs. You may be a qualified agent, but they are way more experienced than you are. You were listening to their conversation but yet, you couldn’t have guessed they knew you were here the whole time. Racing heart and irregular breath are the signs of panic, but you can’t let those take the control of your body, fear is a synonym to death. Take a deep breath, think and attack before they can.

It is quite easy to escape the man’s grasp because he wasn’t expecting you to be so fast. But the man wasn’t the problem, it was the woman with him. She was aiming that gun at you while you were fighting with her mate, not shooting yet because she could’ve killed him instead, but as soon as you stand up, she doesn’t hesitate anymore.

It was a reflex.

She missed the first bullet because of the circumstances, because she couldn’t clearly target you so the bullet passed closed enough. Except she doesn’t look like someone that misses an easy shot and you don’t look like someone who wants to die so you shoot first.

It was a reflex.

It is the first you kill someone on duty. Three years of duty during whose you ensured that you wouldn’t kill anyone. You get them out of the way, you hurt them, sometimes you knock them out like you just did with that guy but you never took a life. But tonight you did, for the first time. Tonight, you didn’t aim for that woman’s leg but for her chest, right where her heart is, she died almost on the spot. It feels awful.

On the way back to the base, you are silent. Your teammates don’t even notice how quiet you are tonight. The two sitting on the front of the car are talking, the last one is humming some music. The mood is light because the mission was a success: you did bring back those documents. So why aren’t you joyful? You don’t know, but tonight you don’t feel like joking, laughing and jumping around as you usually would.

Tonight, you won’t celebrate with your mates because there is nothing to celebrate. A woman died. It doesn’t matter which side she was on or if she was aiming that gun at your head because you shoot and it makes you no better than the people you despise. When you joined the Academy, it was to save civilians, to make something good about your life, you wanted to feel useful and make a difference. So from the moment you became an agent, you avoid killing people. A part of you knew that, one day, wouldn’t let you choose but you didn’t think much about it; if after three years you didn’t kill anyone, it’ll may stay that way until you end your career.

Oh, how naive you were.

Maybe you are too gentle for that world. Your mates kill people and you never saw them hesitating, so what’s wrong with you? Can’t your mind just shut up? It is not that a big deal, is it? It is supposed to be your job, you did what you had to, right? So why does it still feel wrong?

You are a person that easily slip on other people’s shoes. Those people called villains are nothing more than people that got lost at a moment in their lives, people that were failed by the system or made a wrong choice, does it mean they deserve to die? Some of them, maybe, but definitely not that woman. She was barely older than you are, she had a whole life to live but she will never get you because of you, because you decided she didn’t deserve to live.

It is something your superiors often blame you for: your inability to shot when it is needed. It is not because it led to failed mission, but because it caused you a lot of injuries that could have been avoid. They never understood why you were so reluctant to do so, sometimes they are angry, sometimes just disappointed. But tonight you eventually did exactly what they are expecting from you. That’s what you are repeating to yourself but it doesn’t make you feel any better, if you hate the idea of disappointing Agent Romanoff, your superior, you probably hate your actual situation even more.

This moment is playing again and again on your mind, making you oblivious of your surrounding. The sound of her body falling is covering your mates’ voices. The way her chest raised one last time before she stopped moving, the way her eyes were wide open and the blood. Everywhere. On the ground, on her suit, on your hands. A bit of your own, but mostly of her, who knew a body contains so much blood? Not you.

When you are finally back at the compound, the redhead is here. Even if you are not a trainee anymore, you are still a rookie until they decide otherwise and she will probably be your mentor for a few more years. And being your mentor means that wherever you are, she is. Today was your first mission alone. Well, you weren’t really alone, you had your usual team by your side but she wasn’t here. At first, she didn’t want to let you go, wherever she is, you are, but she let herself be convinced. This mission couldn’t wait more, neither could the emergency call she got.

The mission was easier than some you did by the past, she knows you are capable but still, she can’t get over that strange feeling, being scared for you security. She knows she can trust you but can she really trusts your mates? She is stressing over the fact that, for the first time, she isn’t here to protect you.

She is now regretting her choice, it was irresponsible from her to agree to such a demand. She has no idea what exactly happened during the mission but she heard that things didn’t go as smoothly as they were supposed too. She is pacing back and forth on the garage, waiting for your team to come back. She tried to get more information from Fury, but he doesn’t know much more than what he already told her.

A few hours later, the team is eventually back. When her eyes catch you, she is relieved: you seem fine. Her relief only lasts a moment as she quickly notices something is off with your attitude. You ignored her, didn’t even looked for her as you would usually do.

“What happened?” she asks to one of the agents that was on the mission. She grabbed him by the arm, forcing him to look at her, she is taking the whole situation seriously.

“She fired”, he replies, shrugging.

The man doesn’t really understand why it is such a big deal to you, after three years, you should be used to that kind of things happening in a mission. However, Natasha immediately understood.

She rushes to find you but it is already too late. She can’t find you on the locker room, neither she can on your dorm or on the common areas. It is on the shared bathroom that she eventually finds you. She can’t help but being worried. She was really young when she killed for the first time, but she still remembers how it feels, years don’t take away the guilt and the disgust. The difference is that she never got a chance to think too much about it, she was raised to kill, it felt almost normal after a while, she got used to that feeling You, however, are not of that kind. It doesn’t matter how skilled you are: you are not a murder.

“What are you doing?” she asks, frowning when she saw you here.

Scrubbing. That is what you are doing and the only thing left in your mind, you are just obsessed with the idea of cleaning your hands. So you are scrubbing. You are scrubbing until the water turns clear but it doesn’t, it stays red and bloody. It seems there is always more blood on your hands.

You are so focused that you didn’t even hear the woman coming in. Your ears are ringing and your vision is blurry because of the tears in your eyes, the only thing you can see clearly is the blood, all this red. You are using a nail brush in hope it would help you get it of the dirt? but it doesn’t. It just hurts.

A pain that you ignore.

A pain that you feel like you deserved it, like it is the only way to get those memories out of your mind, even if it is just for a moment, you are glad to be able to focus on something.

However, Natasha is not. As soon as she realizes what you are doing, she steps in. She turns the water off, wrapping her hands around yours to make you stop, as her attempts to talk to you failed. She slowly takes the soap and the brush from your hands, putting it on the sink.

For a few minutes, you remain silent. You don’t even dare to look at her in the eyes, how could you? The guilt and the shame make you avoid her gaze, a part of you being scared about what she could say or think. Maybe she sees you exactly as you do right now: pathetic and horrible.

“Let’s clean those wounds”, she eventually says in a quiet voice that surprises you because you thought she would be angry and yell at you. Or maybe it is what you wished she would do. It is easier to hate yourself when people do too.

But she doesn’t.

On the contrary, she is sweet and caring, an attitude that is rarely hers, Agent Romanoff not being someone showing that she cares the usual way. She is usually demanding with the people she cares for but she understands that tonight you don’t need that. Right now, what you need is someone by your side, someone to guide you through that situation.

So she makes you sit on a stool. You don’t protest, there is something good in not having to think about what to do next. She comes back with a few seconds later with medical kit. She sits in front of you and, in silence, she starts to take care of your hands. You scrubbed them for so long and with so much pressure that the blood at the end wasn’t the woman’s anymore. It was yours because the brush scratched your hands.

“Here we are”, she says once she is done. She cleaned your wounds with alcohol and then applied bandages on your hands. She seems to want to add something, but she hesitates. “Do you want to talk about it?” she eventually asks.

You shake your head, no. You don’t want to talk about it, you don’t want to hear about it, you don’t even want to think about what happened today. If it was possible, you would like to erase this day from your mind or turn back in time so you can change the outcome, but you can’t.

Natasha sighs but she doesn’t push, she knows it is not the solution. Instead, she guides you to her quarters.

“It is not my room”, you remark when you get here. It is a one person room, one of the privileges of being a superior.

“No, it’s not”, she acknowledges, “but I am not leaving your side.”

“You don’t need to do that, I am gonna be fine”, but she doesn’t let you go. As you try to leave the room, she firmly hold you by the arm. You staying here wasn’t a question, not even an invitation, it was more of an order.

“No, you are not. And after what happened I don’t trust you, at least not tonight”, she tells you and she is not joking at all. She has that serious expression and you know she won’t take no as an answer. You want to be alone, but deep down you are relieved you won’t spend the night alone.

She helps you take off your suit. She then helps you to put on some of her clothes, a short and a t-shirt, so you are ready to go to sleep. It is already late, midnight was long gone. She guides you to the bed, it is a bit small but it is just for one night and you don’t seem to protest, you just let her guide you, your mind being far away.

The two of you are leaning in the bed in silence. Her chest pressing against your back, her head near to yours. She is holding you firmly, as if she was scared you could run away. You stay in that position for a moment before your voice breaks the silence.

“I- I don’t even know her name, I barely saw her face and-” you eventually say, feeling the need to let a bit of what is in your mind out. You are exhausted, but you can’t even close your eyes to try to sleep, those memories and thoughts keeping you wide awake.

“it’s okay”, she whispers in your ear. She is not sleeping either, too worried about you for that. She already knows that she is going to stay awake the whole night to keep an eye on the woman she is holding in her arms.

“No!” you yell. You can’t stand how calm she is. “No it’s not, how could it be okay? I killed her. I killed a woman and I don’t even know who she was.”

“It happens, sometimes, you have no choice”, she continues to talk in a quiet voice, soothing you by stroking your hair. She knows nothing she could say right now would make it easier. You need time and support, all she can do is being here and let you know she is.

“I do, I should’ve aimed for her limb or…”, you start, but you can’t even finish your sentence. You feel your throat tighten, your voice broke on the last few words.

“You did exactly what you had to. You did exactly what you had to stay alive. I know it is hard but you will get through it, okay? And I am gonna be here, with you, the whole time”, she whispers again in your ear, her voice calming a bit the storm in you.

This is how you eventually fell asleep. In the comfort of the arms of that woman, with a feeling of security. The way her hand is brushing your hair calming your mind until Morpheus accepts you in his realm. The words she is whispering in your ears are helping to ease the guilt and the hate. However, Natasha won’t sleep. She is going to stay awake the whole night just so she can be here if you wake up needing her, no matter what time of the night it is, she wants to make sure you are not alone because it is the worst in situations like this.

#marvel fanfiction #mcu women #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff #reader insert #angst and comfort

253 notes · View notes

bp-zb1fics · 1 year

Note

this has been in my mind for while , but omg can i req a student council pres shanbin and vice pres reader 🤭 maybe a angst-fluff?? like what if the reader likes hanbin but yk the cliche idt he likes me after the reader saw him smiling at a confession he received , this thought has been stuck in my mind for awhile have been deluluing abt it 😞😞. Hope you have a amazing day btw!! drink lots of water!! stay healthhyy💟💟

-🦝

you do like me?

pairing: student council president shanbin x vice president reader

pronouns: none used

genre: highschool au, angst, fluff

tw/tags: student council things, pining, many many confessions, how is hanbin real, having feelings and not wanting them, confusion, misunderstanding, lowkey heartbreak but not really, lack of self care, implied fainting, fainting aftermath, worried bin, swearing, reader is exhausted by everything and their own feelings honestly same

wc: 1797

summary: you’re not confessing to hanbin, even if it hurts, it simply is not professional.

a/n thanks for requesting 🦝 anon! This au was so perfect for shanbin 💜💜 lowkey reader is kinda done by the end of it but like in the nicest way possible~ pls let me know what you think 💜 hope you have a great day!! take care of yourself as well!!

Check my pinned for more fics!!

Let’s face it. Everyone in school has had a crush on Sung Hanbin at some point.

Handsome, polite, impossibly nice, infinitely patient, smart, talented, an incredible dancer, good-looking and did you mention handsome? Yes you did.

Okay. It wasn’t like you were too bad yourself seeing as you were able to get elected as his vice president. But seriously, how do people like Sung Hanbin exist?

You swear he gets a confession every week. Sometimes more than that. And you know this because you’re coming out of the council room and there the poor boy or girl stands, waiting. Usually holding something like flowers or chocolates or snacks or a little trinket or a handwritten note. One time, it was a giant stuffed hamster. You didn’t even want to know how they managed to bring that to school.

And there’s always just a second or two of awkward eye contact before you call for Hanbin. He goes out and you walk away, not wanting to intrude. Some of them take it gracefully, they thank him politely for taking the time to hear about how they feel and leave looking maybe a little shaken but unbothered. Sometimes he even receives the gift they prepared if they insist and offer it to him without any obligations. You’ve seen your fair share of criers, running past you down the hall, furiously wiping away tears. And some of them got a little crazy. But that’s a whole other story.

Which brings you back to your point. Everyone has had a crush on Sung Hanbin at some point. Some of them confess to him. They get rejected. They get over it. And you? Well you thought if you ignored your feelings enough they would gradually disappear. They didn’t.

So yes. Everyone has had a crush on Sung Hanbin at some point, you included. It’s just that you’ve never got the nerve to confess. And worse, you haven’t gotten over it.

“And these are my recommendations for the committees moving forward, any questions?”

Polite applause. No one asks questions. Hanbin takes his seat next to you as the teacher presiding over your meeting thanks all of you for your time.

“Hey,” He whispers to you. “Thanks for organising all the committee info for me.”

You had taken the time to put everything he was going to present for the meeting into flashcards and even finetuned his presentation for him.

“I’m the vice president,” you whisper back. “It’s what I’m supposed to do. Literally don’t worry about it.”

“Still,” he smiles. “You really went all out. I couldn’t have done such a good presentation without you. So thank you.”

This is precisely the reason why you still haven’t gotten over your crush on him. How is this man real??

“Let me buy you dinner,” he offers. If this was any other guy, you’d think he was asking you out. But it’s Sung Hanbin and he treats all of the council members all the time.

“I’m going out with the events committee for a planning session. And you have a dinner meeting with one of the school board members later for a possible sponsorship for the event that we’re supposed to be planning so you might want to go to that instead.”

“Right! Right, I nearly forgot. Seriously, how are you such a lifesaver?

“I do my best.” You deadpan in an effort to not blush dammit, just because you have a crush doesn’t mean you have to be such a simp. But really, it’s not good for your heart when he compliments you like that.

He trails after you as you walk out of the council room.

“Maybe dinner tomo…?” Your suggestion dies in your throat as you meet eyes with the latest in Hanbin’s long line of confessions.

She must be one of the underclassmen because you don’t recognise her right away. But she’s so aesthetically pretty, smiling so beautifully when she sees Hanbin behind you.

“I’m sorry to bother both of you but can I talk to Hanbin-oppa for one moment?” God, she’s so polite that you feel bad for disliking this. She even thanks you when you nod and step aside. You’re surprised that she addresses him so casually but Hanbin doesn’t seem to mind at all. And Hanbin, the way he’s smiling at her makes all feelings in your heart die, stone cold and shattered.

Stupid crush. You don’t know why you have it in the first place. It’s annoying and unnecessary and completely unprofessional considering how you work together.

You don’t know how long you’ve been walking down the hall when the girl skips past you, greeting you again politely and going on her way. She looks…happy. Did Hanbin accept her confession?

It bothers you. Of course it bothers you. You want to go home and burrow yourself into your bed like you always do whenever you think one of the confessions goes well. Even if it actually doesn’t. Maybe you’ll even cry a little. Or a lot. So you do. After your planning session with the events committee, that is. A little heartbreak isn’t going to stop you from being a responsible vice president.

Being under the blankets, just hiding from the world, it’s nice. You can pretend. Maybe there’s a world where Hanbin does like you back….And now you’re sad again. Maybe you should confess. At least you can cry about it one last time and be done. But at the same time, why risk ruining the friendship you and Hanbin have going? Council meetings would be horribly awkward, maybe not for him but for you.

So you do what you always do after these little pity parties. You wash your face, drink a glass of water and try to sleep. Tomorrow you’ll be fine. Or at least, you’ll look fine. Hopefully.

You’re not fine. I mean you don’t look like shit but you’re definitely just going through the motions. At least, you’re busy. There are committees to check in with, teachers to talk to, your fellow council members giving updates and you just organising everything for the next meeting.

It’s a whirlwind. You barely see Hanbin beyond class and passing him papers or messages for all the school-related matters he needs to deal with. It’s easy to sink into it. To put your feelings aside and just work. You’re the fucking vice president and you need to do your job right.

Maybe it’s beginning to wear into you, just a bit. Missed meals, lost sleep, running around school, it’s all bound to build up. So maybe you’re not that surprised when you wake up in the nurse’s office. She’s helping you sit up, giving you vitamin water to sip and scolding you for overexerting yourself. If you had been out of cold for any longer, they would have sent you straight to the hospital for an IV. She actually offers but you say you’re fine. Instead, she insists you rest until the next period and then go home for the day. You can’t. You have meetings. But apparently it’s that or the hospital so you stay put.

Hanbin comes in a little later to check on you because of course he does.

“How are you feeling?” He asks, quiet and gentle in a way that makes your chest hurt and it’s not from passing out.

“I’ve been better.”

“I was really worried, seriously.”

“You need to worry about the meeting later. Getting sent home after this so someone else will need to do my part of the presentation. Also need a replacement for the committee session I'm supposed to be checking in with.”

“I’ll take care of it, honestly don’t worry, just take care of yourself.”

“I will, I will. And you don’t need to do that, Gunwook’s been wanting more responsibilities, let him take it. Really don’t worry about me.”

Hanbin’s quiet for a moment.

“I really can’t help it. Don’t you know how much I panicked when I saw you on the floor? It’s a good thing you didn’t hit your head too hard, I-”

“I’m fine now, you really don’t need to worry.” If he acts any more concerned, you swear you might cry.

It’s quiet again.

“I can’t.”

“You can’t what?”

“I can’t not worry about you.”

You lean back on the cot, just watching him. Hanbin’s working up to something but between the slight dizziness you still have going and the fatigue that’s come crashing down, you have no idea.

“You know I really like you a lot?”

Damn, you’re definitely hallucinating.

“Really?”

“Yeah, really. I’ve been really obvious about it. I thought you noticed and just didn’t say anything because you didn’t like me and saying it would mess with the council.”

You sit up.

“Wait, you're serious?”

Hanbin looks confused, maybe a little offended.

“Do you think I’m not being serious?”

“I don’t know, okay? You literally get a confession every week.”

“And I always tell them no because I like you.”

“How about that girl the other day?”

“Oh you mean my cousin? She just wanted to see you and then tease me about it when you left.”

“...Your cousin?”

“...Yeah?”

You sigh, collapsing back onto the cot, too exhausted to react properly.

“For the record, I’ve had a fucking crush on you for like forever and I can’t believe this is happening and I’m probably going to freak out about it once I’m less tired.”

His expression goes from surprise to happiness and back to confusion but he’s definitely shuffling closer to you.

“So why didn’t you tell me?”

You look at him incredulously before letting out an even louder sigh. God, this man is going to be the death of you.

“Maybe take me out to that dinner you promised and I’ll tell you why.”

“Okay!”

There’s a very pregnant pause before he goes:

“...Sooo you do like me?”

“Yes! Oh my god, yes I like you. I like you Sung Hanbin so fucking much I’m a little mad that you’re making me say it right now”

He smiles, reaching out to take your hand in his.

“Well that’s good because I like you too.”

“...Mhmm”

“What? What else do you want me to say?”

“Oh nothing, I don’t know, I think that was a little underwhelming compared to what I thought it would be.”

And then he leans over and presses a kiss to your forehead, all shy and bashful, the audacity of this man. And he says your full name.

“I just want you to know that I like you very, very much~ and I’m glad you feel the same way~”

Fucking right, you do.

Everyone in school had a crush on Sung Hanbin at some point. But he’s only ever liked you.

373 notes · View notes

coloursflyaway · 5 days

Text

Won’t Fear Love (2/6)

Pairing: Edwin Payne/Charles Rowland

Rating: T

Word Count: 1.500

Read on AO3

„We should go a date“, Charles says on a perfectly bland Tuesday, looking up at Edwin from whatever he is doing at the moment. If Edwin wasn’t dead already, he would suspect that Charles is trying to kill him. or: Five times Charles takes Edwin on a date to figure out if he could fall in love with him, and one time when he has an answer.

tagging all the lovely people who wanted to give this fic a read: @itsablueberrycow @piristephes @assignedpeanutallergyatbirth @mylu @oneweirdbean @lifeinvirtualreality

“A movie?”, Edwin asks, and Charles nods, almost a little too enthusiastic. He is aware that Charles enjoys movies quite a lot, and Edwin has to admit that there have been those that also captured Edwin’s imagination, but…

“Is that not quite antithetical to the idea of a date?”, he asks, slightly puzzled. Granted, he doesn’t have much experience, but it seems like a pastime that decidedly doesn’t invite conversation. “I was under the impression that dating was mainly about getting to know someone, not sitting next to them in silence while being entertained by something external from both of you.”

His confusion is obviously highly entertaining to Charles, who starts laughing even before Edwin has finished speaking. “Edwin, mate. That’s the most you thing you could have possibly said”, he explains while still chuckling, and Edwin would be miffed, if Charles didn’t sound so fond while saying it. “I’m pretty sure the point of it is to talk about the movie afterwards. And, you know. Maybe hold hands in the dark or something.”

“But I will know what you will think about the movie”, Edwin answers, still befuddled, and resolutely ignores the implication of holding hands, because even if it is, of course, impossible, he feels like he is blushing just thinking about it. On cases, they have held hands before, for spells or as not to lose each other in the dark, but that was before. Now, it would mean something, and now, he cannot even consider it without wanting it with an intensity that is almost frightening.

“Oh, I know”, Charles replies and he’s still smiling, still sounds fond. “That’s exactly why I want to take you to see one.”

Charles, of course, takes him to see a movie. He is excited about it, too, to the point where Edwin cannot even pretend to mind it, because his eyes are glowing with joy when Edwin eventually agrees to it, because he talks Crystal into getting them physical tickets (“So we can keep them, of course! I think that would be nice, having something to remember our second date by, don’t you, Edwin?”), because he dresses up nice again, as if his state of dress could ever matter to Edwin. And, of course, because of one very simple reason: he genuinely seems to want to take Edwin out on a date.

Although he tries his best not to take it too seriously, since Charles just gets like this sometimes, excited and almost overwhelming in his happiness, it’s difficult not to when it’s this. Because the thought that maybe, just maybe, Charles thought the first time he took Edwin out was a success (he cannot bring himself to call it a date, not now, maybe not ever), is almost too much to bear.

The thing is, Edwin never expected Charles to reciprocate his feeling.

Looking back, he isn’t even sure if it was part of his thought process, if he considered the possibility before he was standing on the steps to Hell, looking at Charles and thinking, I’m so glad he knows he’s loved.

So, the thought that Charles is considering it, giving it a chance, giving Edwin a chance, is almost unfathomable.

And yet, Charles is standing in front of him, the biggest smile on his face, because he gets to take Edwin out again. It’s very difficult not to hope at least a little.

“You alright there, mate?”, Charles asks, brows furrowed, and Edwin realises he must have spaced out for a few moments. He should say no, be honest, but instead he nods so he can watch the smile bloom again on Charles’ face. “Aces”, Charles says and he is right, it is aces, it’s magnificent, it’s brills, it’s every other positive adjective Edwin can think of, because they are on a date together and Charles is looking at him like he really wants to be here.

In the end, Edwin can’t even remember the title of the movie, nor the contents of it (there were explosions in it, he’s fairly certain, one or two scenes that made Charles chuckle), and not for not trying, either. It’s not his fault at all, in fact, that he hardly paid attention to any of it, but Charles’.

For not even five minutes into the film, Charles had taken his hand. Not to show Edwin something, not to drag him somewhere, but just sitting there, Charles had taken his hand and woven their fingers together like he didn’t mean to let go and then he just… hadn’t. Instead, he had held Edwin’s hand for the entirety of it, sometimes squeezing it, presumably if something exciting was happening on screen.

Which Edwin wouldn’t, couldn’t have noticed, because, well. Because Charles had been holding his hand. It had been the strangest thing, because it had felt so natural, like something they had been doing for decades; because it had felt like the single most thrilling thing to happen to Edwin in the entirety of his existence.

Of course, he couldn’t really feel Charles’ fingers in his, but he knew them to be there anyway, like he could feel Charles’ energy brushing up against his, and it had been… glorious. It had been warm and familiar and electrifying, and more than enough to make focussing on anything else impossible, lest he miss a second of it.

Which poses one unfortunate problem: Charles asks him about the film when they are leaving the theatre amidst the crowd, a stranger’s arm phasing through the graceful arch of his shoulder.

“Well”, Edwin starts, certain that if he had the appropriate anatomy still, he would be blushing. “I am not entirely certain, I’m afraid. It seems I was a little… compromised during it.”

He cannot say it out-loud, so instead, he just raises their hands, because their fingers are still intertwined, and Charles stops moving in the middle of the hallway to look at him. Edwin stops, too, can’t really do anything but that, unless he lets go of Charles’ hand.

“You don’t know if you liked the movie because we were holding hands during it?”, Charles asks to clarify, sounding amazed and slightly disbelieving still. And Edwin has to nod, and although it should be humiliating, it isn’t, because Charles’ fingers tighten around his reflexively, almost like he doesn’t want to let go, either. His lips part as if he wanted to say something, but then Charles just ducks his head, smiling, before he looks up at Edwin a few seconds later.

“That’s pretty cute, actually”, he states like it’s a confession of some sort, and Edwin’s very soul seizes up, curls around that word. Cute. “And, like. I enjoyed it, too. It’s nice, feeling that you’re next to me.”

And when Edwin doesn’t answer, because how could he, when he wouldn’t be able to remember how to breathe if he still had to do so, he squeezes Edwin’s hand again, deliberately this time. “But don’t worry, mate. You would have hated it anyway.”

“You know, I was thinking, maybe we should make this a more regular thing”, Charles says when they are walking home, because Charles is still insisting on this, and if Edwin is honest to himself, he finds that he doesn’t mind. It’s a nice thought that Charles might not want to let the evening end, because Edwin feels the same, and not only because they are still holding hands. “What do you mean?”

Charles grins and Edwin is so weak around him, it’s preposterous. But then again, maybe it’s not his fault, maybe it’s just Charles, maybe everyone around them feels like their knees might give out under them when Charles smiles at them like this. He’ll have to ask Crystal about that in a quiet moment.

“You know, give it some regularity. We could do every second Wednesday of the month”, Charles replies easily, “Gives me a bit of time to plan and you won’t have to look like a very frightened deer every time I bring it up.” Again, that smile, so bright it almost lets Edwin forget to be offended.

“I absolutely do not look like a deer in any way whatsoever”, he still shoots back, even if a moment too late. He has a reputation to uphold after all. “You kind of do, though”, Charles tells him, his nose scrunching up a little. “It’s cute. But I would rather have you not scared, so what do you say? Monthly date nights?”

There it is again, that word. Cute. Edwin tries his best not to think too much of it, lest he stop thinking about anything else.

“That would be agreeable”, he replies. Cute. “Is there a reason for it to be the second Wednesday?” And Charles reacts like he has been shot, putting one hand across his unbeating heart and pulling a face, eyebrows drawn together like Edwin has wounded him deeply.

“Edwin”, he all but whines, looking at him with wide brown eyes, glittering with mirth in the glow of the street lights. “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten our first date already! That was on the second Wednesday. As is this one, actually.”

And he’s right; it’s the most thoughtful thing anyone has ever done for him, and Edwin grips Charles’ hand as tightly as he can, and tries his best to think anything but please, let me have this. I’ll never ask for anything else. Just this.

#dead boy detectives #dead boy detective agency #dbd #edwin payne #edwin paine #charles rowland #painland #payneland #paynland #chedwin #charles x edwin #edwin x charles #yes my plan for this whole thing #is simply to make edwin's brain leak out of his ears because charles is showing him some good old-fashioned romance #and i think i am succeeding

58 notes · View notes

doodledrawsthings · 9 months

Note

I'm sorry if this is of any inconvenience but I was wondering how do you have the courage to post your art online cause iwant to do it to someday but I just can't find the right drawing though I've tried I can't figure it out like how do you do this wonderful stuff without worrying about hate or anything?

The main advice I can really give you is just. Don’t. worry about that.

People online will be mean, sometimes. Sometimes accidentally, sometimes with an understandable criticism, sometimes just for the sake of getting a response. Take it all with a grain of salt and curate who you follow and who you see on your dash and in tags if you’re that worried about it. I think when you post your art or anything you do online, that’s just something that has a possibility of happening no matter what you do.

Also I just really think it’s unlikely that anyone’s gonna just send you anon hate because you posted some drawings, unless they’re, like, objectively offensive for the sake of being offensive, or something.

Just try not to take social media too seriously, IMO. When I started posting here I posted grainy iPhone camera doodles of Transistor fan art from my school notebook cuz I liked the game and wanted to see if other people liked it, too. I wanted a place to put the things I drew and a place where I could track my progress as I posted my art over the years, and maybe even meet people. If that’s what you want your eventual art blog to be, then that’s all it really needs to be.

If it’s something more practical you’re looking for: when I was starting out, I would load up the post I wanted to make, hover over the post button, and count down from ten. When I hit one, I just post it, no matter what. If I really didn’t like the post, I could just delete it.

#I don’t mean to sound blunt or make it sound like it’s so easy #like I get it #I’ve gone through stuff like this as well #I still have my highs and lows of managing anxiety depresssive episodes burnout etc #it’s hard. especially if you use Twitter or something and are constantly seeing people yelling at eachother for whatever reason #but if I were you I’d weigh out the pros and cons:#is showing off your work worth the risk of having to deal with the possibility of people being mean to you online?#it’s ok if it is or if it isn’t but no one else can decide that for you #ALSO ALSO #like I said: posting REALLY REALLY does NOT have to be a big deal #post whatever #post a scribble you did of a dog you saw at a park #just make sure it’s what YOU want to post

214 notes · View notes

bonny-kookoo · 3 months

Text

Jungkook

𝐒𝐞𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐀𝐧𝐱𝐢𝐞𝐭𝐲 | Part 25

Will you still love him?

Tags/Warnings: Game Designer!Jungkook, Brat Tamer!Jungkook, kinda himbo!Jungkook, Non Idol AU, established relationship, fluff, Chaotic energy, SFW

Length: 1k words

Callob with @euphoricfilter ! 💜

-> Masterlist

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

You’ve got his head in your lap, fingers combing through his hair, while you both watch a random episode of true-crime on the TV, large tub of icecream long finished on the coffee table.

“Hey babe?” Jungkook asks, watching the interrogation on the TV while your hand stops for a second, as you look down, showing that he’s got your attention. “Would you still love me if I was bald?” He wonders, thought probably stemming from the fact that one of the people on the TV is bald, and you’ve noticed how shiny that man’s head was.

“Uh..” You say, caught off guard. “Yeah. Yeah, I would.” You answer, and he grins to himself, adjusting his position on the couch a little as he continues watching. “Why, do you want me to shave your head?” You joke, turning your attention back to the TV- when you notice his silence.

“..I mean, would you?” He asks, now looking back up at you. You’re scanning his face for a second, and comb through your thoughts to make sure he’s not drunk or high on anything, before you come to the conclusion that yes, he’s perfectly sane and sober, and this is not just a random thought blurting out of his mouth.

To be fair, he’s been nagging you about his hair for months now, after having bleached and colored it every week it felt like, leaving it dry and damaged when he went back to black. It’s almost grown out by now, but he’s an impatient person- having mentioned often how he’d like to just ‘chop it all off at least once’ to have a fresh start.

“I would.” You shrug because of that, answering his question, and making him freeze for a moment as he seems to think, making his decision internally-

Before he suddenly jumps up, sitting straight up on the couch. “Alright, I’ll get the scissors-” He says as he runs off, socked feet slipping a little on the floor as he rushes into the bathroom, slapping the lightswitch to turn it on.

“Wait, are you serious?” You call out, not having thought he’d want to do it, well, right now, since it’s two in the morning- but as he pokes his head out the door, it’s clear that he wants it done now or never.

“I am, and now you’ll have to do it-” He calls back, rummaging through the drawers to find the hair scissors. “-And you have to love me afterwards when I’m bald or you’re a dirty liar!” He challenges, making you laugh as you pause the episode on the TV, joining him in the bathroom where he happily offers the scissors to you.

“You really want me to chop it all off?” You wonder. “It looks fine to me..” You say, running your fingers through his hair- but he nods.

“I don’t want to be like.. Shiny egg-head bald.” He describes, taking the scissors from you to boldly snip off the first long piece of hair, making it fall into the sink in front of the mirror. “But.. I don’t know.”

“Like a Kiwi, maybe?” You say, and he chirps up at that, snapping his fingers with a grin on his face.

“Exactly- Baby you know me so well it’s actually creepy sometimes.” He says, chopping away what he can reach, before you take over, carefully shortening his hair so that the clippers can run through it all more easily later. “Can I..” He asks, and you notice some odd look on his face, before he continues speaking, as you focus more on your task again. “What do you.. Love about me?” He wonders, and you can’t help but smile.

“How bold you are.” You instantly say. “You know.. Remember when we first started dating? I was so shy.” You remind him, and he smiles fondly, thinking back on it. “But because of you I became confident. I became comfortable with myself, and I now know that no matter how stupid I think my thoughts are, I can tell them to you, and you’ll take them seriously.” You explain yourself. “You’re like.. My best friend who I’m dating too.” You shrug, finishing up your work with the scissors, before you look in the mirror to find his face again. “Oh kook, baby, why’re you crying?!” You laugh, making him laugh too with his glossy eyes.

“You could’ve just complimented my dick, babe, why do you have to confess all over again?!” He whines, while you grin, taking the electric clippers into your hand.

“Alright Kook, last chance to back out.” You playfully threaten, turning the clippers on.

But he just seems to buzz as well, nodding with a serious expression. “Do it.” He commands, and you comply, tunning the clippers over his scalp after making sure it’s set to the appropriate length. The entire process doesn’t even take all that long, hair falling down to the floor to be swept up and discarded later, room quiet except for the buzzing of the little machine in your hand, as you make sure to do a good job.

One you’re done, you both make sure to clean everything up, his head in your lap again only an hour later, Episode on the TV resumed as you watch the interrogation continue, your hand running over his head, hairs now short, revealing the natural shape of his head. You suddenly get an idea- running into the kitchen to search for something, before you return to the couch, where he now sits. You put something on his head he can’t see, before you take a picture, and show it to him, laughing already-

And at the sight of it, he laughs too, as he spots the small sticker from the kiwis you’d bought yesterday on his head. “Hey babe?” He asks, and you hum, sitting down next to him on the couch once more, locking your phone before you put it on the coffee table again. “Do you still love me?” He asks, and you giggle, pressing a kiss to his lips.

“You could be shiny egg-head bald, and I’d still love you.”

119 notes · View notes

spoonsock · 10 months

Text

Starbucks love

Gwen Stacy x reader

Synopsis: Ever wondered what would the one and only Spider Gwen order from Starbucks? Me neither but take this anyway.

Warnings: Idk none I think. Not proofread. Writing this at 2am no joke what is wrong with me. Also DUDE. This is kinda similar to Intruder like wtf am I really that not creative. 😭

Also, fun fact, I’ve never been to Starbucks so if I got something wrong pls lemme know.

You didn’t really mind having a part time job at Starbucks. It wasn’t that bad. All you had to do was take orders, make them, write names on cups with your best handwriting. Sometimes kick customers out. Sometimes maybe serve Spider-woman.

Yup that’s right. It all started yesterday.

It was supposed to be a normal day. You clocked in early and mentally prepared yourself for what awaits you ‘cause you never know what might happen. God, what a good decision it was to say a few positive words before the day started.

Around 10 AM, the shop is not even that filled with people yet, three guys barge in, all of them with a gun in their hands. One of them points the gun at you and then at the register, while the other two guys walk around the people sitting at their tables.

“You empty that thing right now or Imma blow your brains out”. The guy says pointing a gun at your face and you freeze. You don’t move an inch, just stare right at him. Your eyes are not wide, you are not hyperventilating or anything. You are panicking, but not showing any signs of it.

The more you stare at the guy, the more impatient he grows. “What are you? Deaf? I’ll fucking kill you if you don’t take the damn money out this fucking moment”.

As soon as he finishes his sentence, the door of the shop slams open and (literally) twirling in comes, the one and only, Spider-woman. The armed men immediately turn to her and point their guns, but she slouches and puts her hands on her hips, looking at them unfazed.

“Seriously, you guys aren’t gonna make this easy for me, are you?”, Gwen asks and receives no answer. “…Alright then”

Before you can even blink, she hits one of the guys in the face, grabbing his gun and throwing it at the other guy. You watch as the the third guy tries to throw a punch at her face but narrowly misses and she succeeds to grab his arm and twist it, before kicking him in the stomach. She easily webs all three of the unconscious men up and the people from the shop clap. She bows jokingly and makes her way over to you.

“Hey, you okay? They didn’t take any money, did they?”, she asks but you are unable to answer. When the masked guy pointed the gun at your face, it triggered something in you. Pushed an “off” button in your brain and turned everything into blurry stop-motion pictures.

For the record, you’ve never been held at gunpoint. Well, until that day, but you hoped it was the first and last time. You didn’t know why it caused you to act like that. To just freeze and zone out. I mean any normal person would start sweating and fearing for their life, visibly shaking or something but you? It turned you off.

Whatever. Whatever it was, you zoned back into reality when you saw a white hand move in front of your face.

“Helloooo? Earth to..”, Gwen stopped and squinted to read from your name tag. “Y/N? Earth to Y/N! You there?”

You quickly took in your surroundings before pulling yourself together and nodding. “Yeah yeah, I’m. I’m fine. Everything is fine. Thank you. For helping. And for asking. I’m fine”, you stumbled across your words and even behind her mask, you could see Spider-woman hesitantly furrowing her brows at you. She didn’t believe you, obviously. You were a terrible liar.

“Riiiighht, well I’m gonna go then”, she stretched out her words before slowly turning around, picking the masked, armed guys off of the floor and exiting the shop.

Honestly, you thought that was going to be your last encounter, but oh boy, you were wrong.

Because she came back in the very next day.

“Oh, hello?”

“Hi”

“I didn’t really see any thieves or villains in our shop today, but uh, how may I help you?”, you ask, unsure of what was she here for, kinda scared that something bad might happen soon and she’s just there to try to prevent it.

“Uhhh actually I came to see you. A-and to get a vanilla latte. And a chocolate chip cookie. But I’m mostly here to see you”, you felt your cheeks heat up at her words. The famous friendly neighbourhood superhero, Spider-woman, came in Starbucks in which you worked just to see you. Strange.

“Um. Okay.”, you didn’t really know what to say to that. What do you even say in a situation like that??

“Soo, hi. Are you okay? You uh didn’t really look the best yesterday? I-I mean you can’t really look the best after being held at gunpoint anyway. Not that you look bad! You don’t! It’s just that, it must have been traumatic, obviously. Not just for you, I guess for everyone in the shop but-“

“I’m okay”, you decided to stop her rambling. “Thanks for checking”, you gave her a shy smile and she smiled back, you guess, but didn’t say anything. You two just stood there, in comfortable silence, until someone coughed behind the masked superhero and tapped their foot on the ground impatiently.

“O-oh um you uh are you going to order orrrrr….?”, you asked, remembering suddenly that you were at work. Where you are supposed to do your work.

“Oh ah yeah I-I’ll have uuuuuuuuhhh a short vanilla latte and a chocolate chip cookie. Please.”

“You’re seriously going to order the most basic white girl drink?”, you chuckled before you’re eyes widened. “NO. Please tell me I didn’t say that out loud”, you thought. But judging by the silence you were met with and the “o_0 expression” (if you could call it that) your friendly neighbor super hero held, you were wrong. “Oh fudge”, you furrowed your eyebrows before giving her the most sympathetic look you could make.

“I did not mean to say that I am SO sorry. I mean I didn’t even mean to think that it just kinda came outta nowhere, I’ve never said anything like that out loud ever. Or not out loud. I’ve never even thought something like that, honest! I seriously don’t have any idea where this came from I mean I would never ever guess your race- it’s none of my business! And it’s not like race has anything to do with the goddarn drink. It’s a drink! Anyone can order it! I have no say in that and I am SOO-“

“IT’S OKAY”, this time, Gwen interrupted your rambling (finally, it seemed like you could go on and on), “you can uhhh make up for it by, I dunno, maybe, givingmeyournumber?”, she was nervous, but you were oblivious unfortunately.

“Oh. OH YEAH I can do that..I’ll just go get your drink. And you cookie”, your ass has never left a place so fast. “SPIDER WOMAN. WANTS. MY NUMBER”, you squealed in your head while preparing her order.

You returned to her in a few minutes, a cup in one hand and a cookie in the other. “For here or do you want me to put it in a bag?”

“Can you put just the cookie in the bag?”, Gwen asked shyly and you nodded packing the cookie in the paper bag. Taking a sharpie that stood on your side of the counter, you wrote on her cup of latte “For Spidey ♡ by Y/N”, scribbling your phone number underneath and handing the bag and the cup to her.

“Thank you for your visit. Enjoy!”, you said what you always say to your customers and she jokingly gave you a two finger salute, turning around and exiting the shop.

The whole day after her visit, you’d check your phone every two seconds waiting for her text. At this point, you were already at home, watching a movie you picked out randomly to distract you from constantly glancing at your phone. Unfortunately, you were a person who constantly keeps their sound off and the movie actually intrigued you to the point you somehow forgot about the happenings of yesterday and today, at least until the movie ended.

And then it hit you.

You opened your phone to see four new notifications from unknown. FROM AN HOUR AGO.

You could barely contain your excitement. Spider woman. Asked you. For your number. She had your number. And she texted you. You have Spider woman’s number. And you’re about to answer to her texts. Holy quack.

Unknown

Today 20:14

hey, this is spider woman

wow that felt weird to write hahah

anyway thank you for the drink

and your number

You smiled at your phone. Who would’ve thought that she would be so awkward while texting.

Unbeknownst to you, an hour ago, Gwen was panicking hard. At first she didn’t know what to say. She spent 10 minutes just writing and then deleting and writing and deleting words. Eventually, she decided to muster up the courage and send whatever first came to mind.

The moment she clicked on the “send” button, she regretted it. Then she sent another message, to try to fix the situation she put herself in. Only to realize she is just digging her grave deeper. Before she knew it, she sent you four messages, then threw her phone as far away as possible without damaging it too much, to stop herself from sending another text in attempt to “fix the previous”. She grabbed her mask and pulled it over her head, hiding her face from no one in particular.

After a few minutes, she heard a ding from across the room and scrambled from her bed quickly, tangling herself in the covers, getting her leg stuck in them and managing to fall face first on the floor.

Groaning, she reached for her phone from the very position she fell into, expecting to see a text back from you.

“Iphone storage full” was the only notification she received. Gwen placed the phone to where it was, continuing to lay on her bedroom floor with her Spider mask on.

“This is going to be a long night”

#spider woman x reader #gwen stacy x reader #atsv gwen #into the spider verse #spider gwen #spider man: across the spider verse #spider woman #across the spiderverse #ghost spider #gwen stacy #reader insert #spider gwen x reader #x reader #spiderman atsv

184 notes · View notes

spiderlandry · 9 months

Text

soft place to land — rotxo

Description: Rotxo thought he had more time to finalize his plan on how he’ll court you. But as he saw you sneaking off with Neteyam to fly on his ikran, he couldn’t help but think he may be too late.

Pairing: Rotxo x GN!Reader (Metkayina)

Warnings/Tags: jealousy, misunderstandings, angst, fluff, mentions of parent death (not reader’s), neteyam being a wingman, neteyam being flirty but they’re just a couple of besties

Word Count: 4.1k

Author’s Note: rotxo my sweet boy <333 included my own hcs about his family situation in this one

At the edge of the forest of Awa’atlu sitting on a rock, you and Neteyam sat shoulder-to-shoulder watching the eclipse. Though you’ve been trying to convince him to make more friends and get out there, he always found his way back to you.

“I swear,” you watched the tides crash against the shore. “I never took you for the shy type.”

“I am not shy,” Neteyam quipped. “I just like being alone.”

“Would you like me to leave?”

His head snapped in your direction, his mouth beginning to scowl until he realized you were smirking. “You’ve been a good teacher. You deserve to reap the rewards by being in my presence,” he laughed as you shoved him, careful not to do it too hard that he fell off.

The truth was Neteyam was drawn to you because of your nurturing nature. He would never outright tell you, but it was something that he sought in people—a calmness he sensed in your soul. Yet, you entertained his little teases with just the right amount of sarcasm. He knew he wanted to be your close friend on the first day you helped teach his family about the Metkayina way of life. You accepted him almost immediately, even after he gained a few stern looks from you when he started teasing you about a certain someone a bit too soon.

That certain someone being Rotxo. On that first day, Neteyam said he noticed the way you stared, which you followed up with a concerned, is it really that obvious?

The answer, it was only obvious to Neteyam because he went through the same thing back home. When he told you this, you were able to read the solemn look on his face and he opened up about the woman waiting for him in the forest, the one he was beginning to court before they were forced to seek uturu. You both bonded over the pain of belonging to someone you couldn’t be with at that moment.

You’ve been best friends since then.

Neteyam sighed, idly fidgeting with his hands. “I miss home.”

“I know,” you whispered, unable to provide further comfort than a pitiful patting of his back. “You should tell me more about it.”

“I’ve told you many stories already,” he flashed you a flat smile, appreciating the sentiment. “I don’t know if there are any more.”

“What about your ikran?”

“I already told you how I tamed him.”

“You never told me your first flight. Neytiri said it’s the most important.”

He lightly scoffed—more of a laugh, really—he should have known you would get around his deflections. “We almost got lost,” he began.

“Really?”

He hummed. “I got carried away with trying to do all kinds of tricks. Flying just felt…good—It still does.”

“How did you make your way back?”

“Father found me,” he chuckled, “I almost got scolded. But I think he saw how happy I was.”

“What is it like? To fly, I mean.”

“It feels freeing, like the whole world is at your disposal.” He shrugged.

“I would like to fly sometime.”

“Seriously?” When you nodded, he grinned. “I could take you.”

And so, you both made a deal. Tomorrow morning, at dawn. Needless to say you were thrilled to see what the fuss was about.

When the time came, though, nerves got the best of you. You woke up two hours before the sun was fully in the sky, and had to leave your marui due to your own sleeplessness.

Coincidentally, Neteyam was also awake, feeding his ikran. He was at the cliff’s edge near your usual hangout spot.

Climbing up the small hill, he sensed your presence behind him, your gaze falling on his banshee that was giving him the death stare. “It’s been a bit difficult for him adjusting to the food here.”

You were silent, it was far too early to be having conversation. Instead you hesitantly extended your hand toward the animal, feeling its tough skin with a gentle graze under his chin.

Neteyam’s eyes widened—his ikran didn’t like to be touched, he should have warned you. But imagine his surprise when the banshee leaned into your touch, not away from it.

“I should have known he would like you,” he broke the silence.

“Hm?” You looked back at him, still scratching the animal.

“You’re good with animals. That’s why you’re a teacher, right?”

“I suppose.”

His lips curved into a soft smile. “Are you ready?”

With a scrunch of your nose, you flashed him a nervous grin. “Promise not to drop me?”

“Only if you behave,” he adjusted the straps on the banshee.

“I think I’m ready.”

“Let’s do it!”

Neteyam got on, helping you get your footing, and you settled nicely behind him. He made tsaheylu.

“Hold on to my waist,” he grabbed your arm and placed it around his middle. “Don’t let go.”

Without warning, the ikran lifted off the ground, the flap of its wings leaving behind a cloud of dust. On instinct, you squeezed Neteyam’s torso with both of your arms, and the animal shivered beneath your thighs as he must have felt it, too.

Your eyes closed and your head pressed up against his back, hiding from the wind. It was then you noticed he had tied his hair so it wouldn’t get in your face. Laughing at the realization, your eyes opened naturally—you were caught off guard by the beauty surrounding Awa’atlu.

The sea, clear as glass, reflected Eywa’s sun carefully placed in the sky as it came out of hiding. The light bounced off the wavelets in the water, illuminating the homes tied up under the large roots of the trees. Speechless, you were.

“Like the view?” Neteyam asked, his ikran circling near the reef, giving you a panoramic glimpse of your home.

“This is crazy,” you beamed.

Yet, when he turned his head to you, he found a faraway expression.

“You good?”

“Yeah, yeah.” You shook your head. “That’s Rotxo’s marui. Near the edge. It’s further away from the others.

At the mention of your friend, his eyes softened. He knew Rotxo was adopted by the leaders of the clan, but he never pushed to know about the rest.

“The Olo’eyktan gave him a separate marui after his parents…you know. So he had a private place. He’s in there a lot.”

You weren’t sure if you were right to tell Neteyam. At this point, words were just coming out without any real thought. Maybe you were lightheaded from the sheer height.

Veering away from the last part, he still kept on topic. “Are you ever gonna tell him about your feelings?”

“No.”

“Eywa, you are oblivious.” He muttered. “It is not good to dwell on your feelings alone, you know.”

“What else am I supposed to do? Court him?”

“Exactly right.”

“No!” You slapped his back lightly, and the ikran screeched. “What do I even give him?”

“What does he like?”

“He’s been wanting a new armband. He’s outgrown most of his, but—“

“But?”

“I don’t know how.” Neteyam felt the shame radiating off you at not having learned an important skill.

Going back to where you both took off, he landed on the grass smoothly.

After a beat, catching his breath, Neteyam said, “I’ll help you.”

From a young age, Rotxo hoped that being by your side would inevitably get you to see him. Not that he didn’t value being your friend, or that he was only with you because of an ulterior motive, no—he genuinely had this incessant need to be in your presence, and the realization that those feelings were more than platonic was just another side to the coin.

After that epiphany, he started a necklace. Multiple, actually. Perfecting the craft with Tsireya’s help to ensure it showed how much he loved you; his own marui was just the place to practice since nobody bothered him.

He was sort of dealt a bad hand in life having lost his parents as a child, but he was picked up by Tonowari and Ronal who took him underneath their wings. Growing up, feelings of being a burden made themselves known. You, however, being the eldest child of the leaders’s close friends, befriended him.

You both confided in each other about the pressure that came with status. You, being trained to become a warrior and a teacher, and him, as the adopted son of respected leaders. Your friendship bloomed naturally. He wasn’t as close to you as he liked, though, you were much closer with Tsireya and, lately, a certain someone.

About being the son of two great leaders, he had his own duties to perform. Often, that included having to wake up early to get them done. He was up before dawn, stretching and exiting his family’s marui. (But not before lightly kicking Ao’nung on the way out.)

Doing this for years, Rotxo was easily a morning person. So, imagine his surprise when he spotted you—strictly a night person, you told him yourself—walking outside.

He was about to come greet you, until he realized you had a destination in mind: the cliffside. He watched from afar as you climbed up and greeted that certain someone. The one you’d been spending much of your time with, which is none other than Neteyam.

Neteyam was okay. At first, at least. He listened to instructions better than his siblings which Rotxo was thankful for. But then the Sully had to go and become friends with you. Next thing he knew, you were spending most of your time with the guy.

He pictured it so clearly. You and Neteyam bonding over the pressure of being the eldest children. You had many friends, he knows. But recently your touches toward Neteyam got a bit too close, and your smile wider, and suddenly Rotxo became a beacon of an ugly emotion they called jealousy.

He always tried his best to shake it off. Now, seeing you mount Neteyam’s ikran, putting your hands around his waist and grinning when you both took off—he no longer had the dignity to deny it.

A shove from the back had him twisting to look at Ao’nung. “What?”

His brother smirked, pointing his head toward the ikran they both knew was Neteyam’s. “Jealous?”

“No.” Of course he was. But he would never give him the satisfaction of saying yes.

“You’ve been standing there for Eywa knows how long. You’re sure?”

“I’m sure.” Rotxo nodded curtly, jerking his head away when Ao’nung tried to pinch his ear.

Since you were always with Neteyam, and Tsireya was with Lo’ak, Rotxo was stuck dealing with Ao’nung making sure he didn’t stick his neck where it didn’t belong. Ao’nung was a good brother, protective though he wouldn’t admit that. But being him, he was also quite unbearable.

Rotxo just was not having it today. Throughout his training and helping with the clan, he couldn’t help but be short with everyone. He would never be disrespectful, but it was a sure stark contrast from his usual smiles. From crinkled eyes to empty stares.

He didn’t think it made that much of a difference, but apparently it did. He was cleaning up in the Tsahìk’s marui, listening to Ronal with one ear while Tonowari sharpened his spear.

“Say, Rotxo, do you know if Ao’nung has talked of a mate?”

Focused on organizing materials, he gave a simple answer. “No, Tsahìk.”

Unbeknownst to him, both of his parents’ heads slowly raised toward him. Tonowari stopped sharpening his spear, Ronal stopped talking.

At the silence, he looked up. “Is something wrong?”

His mother shot his father a look, and as he nodded, she left.

Uh oh. This can’t be good.

Tonowari put down the spear. “What’s bothering you, ma’itan?”

Ears pinned to his skull, he bit his lip trying to come up with a response. Lying was not on the table. “I am sorry for being curt today, Olo’eyktan. You taught me to be better. I am just…”

“You can tell me.”

“I am…jealous.”

“Of whom?”

“I don’t think it’s important.” He shook his head. “It’s trivial.”

“If it is affecting your behaviour, it’s important.”

Well, he couldn’t disagree, could he?

“I have been jealous of Y/N. Who has been spending time with Neteyam.” He looked around, desperate to see anything but the reaction.

A hand came upon his shoulder, and he finally spotted the smile that crept up on the leader’s face. “You should give them the necklace.”

“Wait—how do you know about that?”

“You know, I didn’t raise Tsireya to be a liar either,” he laughed. “Besides, I would not worry much if I were you.”

“What does that mean?”

He patted Rotxo on the back before picking up the spear and gesturing to the doorway.

“Give them the necklace and find out,” he went back to sharpening the spear.

Rotxo, stumbling out of the pod, pondered on the implications of what was just said. Was it true? Could he really have a chance with you?

With a newfound hope and determination, he headed to his own marui to retrieve the necklace. However, that faith was short lived when he ran into you.

“Rotxo,” you beamed at him. “I was looking for you.”

“You were?” The spark of hope in his chest flickered to a flame.

“I flew on an ikran this morning,” your excitement was so strong that you didn’t seem to notice Rotxo’s grimace. “I wanted to tell you about it and—“

Just like that, the fire was extinguished.

“Um. I’m sorry, Y/N. But I have to go.”

“Oh.” You blinked. “Well, come find me later?”

“Sure.”

Closing the flap of his pod, he stared at the line of necklaces on the floor, his string of failed attempts. Laughable, he thought he ever had a chance with you. Furthest from the entrance was his most recent attempt. His best one.

He laid down, taking the necklace in his hand to hold close to his chest. He let himself grieve the little chance he thought he might have had.

“Eywa,” he breathed. “Please give me a sign before I give up on the one that I love.”

The lack of light guided him into a slumber.

He was woken up after eclipse, found by Tsireya so he could come eat supper.

“Working on the necklace again?” She asked, leading the way.

“No, I accidentally fell asleep.”

She laughed, “When are you going to give it?”

For Tsireya was the one who rooted for you and Rotxo since the start, he didn’t have the heart to tell her he may never give it.

“Soon, probably.” He said instead.

She nodded.

The problem with Rotxo’s marui being so far away, it was a long walk. And because of that, he had to pass practically every single pod. Including the Sully’s.

It was only for one second. His eyes were drawn to the light coming from it, a fire for food. Then he saw you. Eating with the Sully family, handing food to Tuk.

If it were any other kid, his heart would have swelled at your parental instinct. But she was a Sully. His heart, instead, constricted at the thought of you making good relations with Neteyam’s family because you could have loved him.

Still walking, he caught up to his sister. “Why is Y/N eating with the Sully’s?”

Her eyes narrowed at him. “Their parents are away on that hunting trip, remember?”

Right. They sent out a big hunting party every thirty eclipses, and your parents led them. In his haste, he’d forgotten. You must be worried like you always were. Likely searching for comfort. You found that in Neteyam, not him. He was too slow.

The silence wasn’t lost on Tsireya. And not to the rest of his family, either. Not even his little sister who was a few years older by now. But Tonowari steered the conversation away from Rotxo, knowing his situation.

In the following eclipses, he kept to himself during duties. He hadn’t spoken to you since that day you flew on Neteyam’s ikran. He wasn’t purposefully avoiding you, no, you did it for him. It was almost like you disappeared but not completely; you still sent him sweet smiles accompanied with a greeting. He hated that his name sounded just as sweet from your tongue, there was no sign of his feelings dissipating anytime.

Right before eclipse, sick of wallowing in his own misery, he went for a walk.

He spotted you on the shore with an Omatikayan. It was Neytiri, weirdly enough, and not Neteyam. He put the pieces in his head and came to the conclusion that it was because you were talking about a possible union with her eldest after he would pass his rites. Which would be…soon.

Blinking back tears, he saw a blurry glow in the corner of his eyes. Atokirina. He scoffed, pushing it aside and letting it float away as he went to a secluded spot for a swim.

Groaning at your restlessness, you continued to work on the armband for Rotxo. You could spot the mistakes. Your eyes grew hot, maybe you would never be able to make the perfect armband for him.

Neteyam was nice enough in urging you to learn weaving under a real professional in your clan. You were joined by Neytiri in these lessons, who was learning alongside you. You found solace in having someone else learn with you, because most Metkayina either learned as children or not at all. Your embarrassment was quelled when Neytiri took the lessons in stride, encouraging you on the way.

But there was one thing: you kept messing up.

With the unfinished accessory in your grasp, you sought out Neytiri, and found her sitting on a rock at the beach.

You cleared your throat, hoping you weren’t intruding. She smiled upon seeing you. “What do you need?”

“I am a failure,” your shoulders sagged.

Beckoning you to come closer, she patted the spot next to her which you took. You showed her the armband in progress.

“It’s beautiful.”

“No,” you insisted. “It is not.”

She frowned, “How come?”

You pointed out the mistakes.

“You know what I see?”

You hummed, preparing yourself for the sting of rejection.

“Love,” she replied. “You made it with love.”

“Does that even matter if it looks terrible?”

“It is not terrible.” She disagreed, “It is imperfect, but so is love.”

You finally shed a tear, partly out of frustration but at the epiphany you had upon hearing Neytiri’s words. What mattered was that it’s for Rotxo. And you already knew he would love it regardless of how he felt toward you.

“You know,” Neytiri continued. “In our clan, we often made jewelry that matched. One for the lover, the other for the loved. And if the other accepts, that is their gift, and it means they become the lover, too. The love is mutual and their bond is strengthened.”

You wiped the tear away. “That’s poetic.”

“It is.”

“Should I do that?”

“If you want to.”

“I’m going to.”

So, you took it upon yourself to keep going. You got so carried away that you lost sleep for the next two nights, finishing Rotxo’s and making one for yourself.

Early morning, sitting on the cliffside, you looked at your work side by side. A little too honed in on the armbands combined with a lack of rest, you didn’t notice a pair of large blue feet right next to you until the owner of said feet cleared his throat.

“Skxawng!” You hissed at Neteyam, straining your head to look up. “You scared me!” You swatted at his calves.

Finally noticing his state, “Why are you out of breath?”

“I ran here.”

“For what?” You stood up, worried.

“To tell you…” he wheezed, “that you should probably give it to Rotxo soon.“

“Why?”

“Tsireya told Lo’ak who told me that Rotxo has been sad,” Neteyam answered. “He thinks that you and me might be…”

“Oh Eywa, that’s gross.” You said, not really thinking. At Neteyam’s slight offended look, “Sorry, I just—I can’t think of being with anyone except Rotxo.“

“Then tell him!”

Seeing your friend so riled up made you chuckle. “Alright, I’ll do it today. Thank you, by the way. For covering my duties.”

Strolling back with Neteyam, putting your armband on, you prepared yourself for the worst. Sensing your apprehension, he squeezed your forearm in comfort. You sent him a grateful look and began to scan the place for Rotxo.

He wasn’t far, feeding his ilu just sitting at the edge of the walkway.

“Rotxo,” you called, mirroring his smile as he turned around.

His eyes darted to the new accessory on your arm, gulping.

“Y/N,” he called back. His breath hitched for a moment when you took your place next to him. After all the time apart, being right next to you still felt right. “How are you?”

“I’m—I’m okay. You?”

“Same here,” he pet his ilu.

It was now or never. “I have…something for you.”

He stopped his motions, not even minding when the animal made a noise in complaint. “For me?”

You hoped you weren’t imagining the hope in his eyes when he faced you.

“For you,” you untied it from the waistband of your loincloth, hesitantly extending it to him.

His eyes darted to the one on your forearm.

“It matches yours.”

“It does,” you nodded. You wanted him to connect the pieces himself.

“This is…for me?”

“Do you like it?”

He responded by putting it on, your smile widening. He stood up and offered a hand, which you happily grabbed. He didn’t let go, though, and you’ll admit it made you giddy.

He pulled you toward a direction, “Come, I want to show you something.”

Leading you to his marui, you wondered what could possibly be there for you. Still, you stared at the accessory, the one you made, adorning his arm. It fit snugly around his toned muscles.

He opened the door for you, letting you see the inside. There were necklaces scattered in the corner, but one, different from the others, sat further away separated from the rest. Rotxo took it and even from the doorway you could see its beauty, with the shiny beads and a medium-sized shell at its middle as the focal point.

Despite the distance between you, he heard you say, “Is that…?”

“It’s for you.”

What followed after was you running to him with such force and excitement that he toppled over, tripping over a scrapped necklace, sending you both to the floor with a loud huff.

“Easy,” he rubbed your back, elated at your gesture and also breaking your fall. He tried to calm his heart at how close you were. “Are you okay?”

His voice so close to your ear made you shiver. “With you? Always.”

Rotxo, speechless, let the silence stretch. He relished in the feeling of being surrounded by you.

“Can you put it on me?”

Ignoring the stutter of his heart, “You would have to get off me for that. Not that I mind this right now, trust me.”

You laughed, “Of course.” You did as he said, and kneeled next to him, as he did the same.

He chose to put it on you face-to-face, leaning in close with his arms around you, his breath against your neck as he felt for the clasp to secure it.

Pulling back to look at it, he couldn’t help but flit his eyes to your reaction. But you weren’t looking at the necklace, either. You were looking at him.

Before you knew it, you found the feeling of his soft lips on yours to be the only thing you needed for peace of mind. You wanted it forever, as did he.

And just like that, both lovers became the loved. The feeling mutual, the bond strengthened. It was real.

#rotxo x reader #rotxo #rotxo x you #atwow rotxo #rotxo imagine #avatar the way of water #avatar the way of water x reader #atwow #atwow x reader #rotxo fluff #avatar imagine #avatar rotxo

127 notes · View notes

oxygenpdf · 16 days

Text

Late night thoughts with Oxygenpdf no. 2

Topic of the night: Max Verstappen’s dominance in formula one

@flyingcakeee you’re being tagged because you deal with my yap seshes 24/7

Max hate got so bad across platforms, had to specify that I indeed support his dominance in this sport. And will not be participating in the; “praying on his downfall” day.

Thank you.

No but in all seriousness. I get WHY people say “it’s getting boring” and to some extent I do agree, being able to anticipate who’s gonna win takes away some fun. However, it only adds to the enjoyment of NOT knowing another outcome. When Max dominates, majority of you guys don’t think of other possibilities. “What if Charles gets the lead?” “What if this is Landos first win” Max’s dominance allows us as fans to not only enjoy his progression in the sport, but also the anticipation of not knowing what else can happen.

of course, never would I pray on a drivers downfall. Every driver has their ins and outs. Max has been a personal new grid favourite of mine for a while. As has Lando () however, when he wins I get excited. Not for Redbull, but for him [or checo] individually.

Claiming that the sport is getting boring purely BECAUSE he’s winning is so ridiculous, at least in my opinion it is. I won’t fight you on it, that’s not what these yap seshes are for. I can come to terms with different opinions and thoughts. Hell if you don’t like Max, that’s totally fine. No one can truly bash your ideal driver lineup. But purely placing the blame onto him, as if he has a choice, is funny. He’s given a damn good car, and he’s a damn good driver who can control said car. Of course he’s going to take it home every race. He’s talent, skill, and ability mashed into one. It’s not “the car” it’s him.

here’s what I say; if you give a driver a good and fast car, said driver needs to be able to control it.

Redbull has given Max a very good car, as they should, and he’s been able to control it. THATS what the sport is about, good driver = good car, good car = needs a driver that can control it. It’s not about him reducing his wins because fans think his dominance is wasted or repetitive.

Even if Redbull didn’t give him a worthy car, yall think Max wouldn’t haul its dusty ass to 1st still? He proved way back in his early years that even when the car is absolutely shit, that he’s able to control it well enough in the points.

Rounding back. I can see why the sports getting boring. I too find it a bit boring, but that’s not because of his dominance, but because everything is really happening off-track more than on-track. And unfortunately the times good shit happens, it spirals out of control and things happen [AHEM Daniel AHEM Lance AHEM] also because I’ve watched this sport for so long, sometimes the excitement doesn’t catch up to me in time. I’ve always found Indy more entertaining, but F1 comes a damn close second along with WEC.

Anyways this is my propaganda against Max hate.

#pro Max Verstappen #that better be a tag #because I am pro max all day everyday #late night thoughts with Oxygenpdf #formula 1 #f1 #formula one #max verstappen

33 notes · View notes

yuri-is-online · 4 months

Note

Same Anon here that dropped that mess of an angst post lol. Maybe I should find some name for myself if this becomes a regular thing.

There are a lot of valid points there. For as lightly as the story treats everything, wow this would be messed up irl. But I digress, I personally can see this potentially taking a much darker route. I don’t know if you’re comfortable talking about this so TW: Brief mention of suicide

I imagine Yuu to just bottle everything up for the aforementioned reasons of being seen as weak for expressing any of their emotions only for it to all come out in one big mental breakdown. I think it would be quite poetic for Yuu’s breakdown to be more of a quiet self-destructive thing just to contrast the showy, outwardly destructive nature of the overblots. I always thought it could be some spur of the moment decision to just end it all out of sheer hopelessness and a thoroughly crushed sense of self-worth. I just can’t see a teenager handling a burden this heavy very well. Whether or not Yuu survives could be up to how dark you want to go.

Also if it isn’t too much, I would like to see that post about the boys’ individual reactions to Yuu running away sometime. But I’m aware you only write for a few at a time so…

You are more than welcome to give yourself a name! I don't have any named annons so you are free to choose anything you like, and make regular appearances if that is what you wish. While I try to only write for a few characters at a time, I don't mind doing a bullet point type post with my thoughts on the boys reacting to Yuu running away sometime, but I need to think as part of me wants to write something sappy and romantic, while the other part wants to focus more on Yuu and their character. I could do both I suppose (￣ω￣;)

I'm fine with talking about suicide, but since it's a sensitive subject I am going to place my thoughts under read more and tag it so if it is something you, dear reader, are triggered by you needn't see more than you are comfortable with.

notes: they/them used for Yuu, discussions of suicide and depression, isolation, abandonment, and missing persons. This also kind of takes a trip into theory town I am so sorry annon. Please do not interact with the words below if you do not wish to think on such things.

I want to start out by saying that when a person is depressed it is not always obvious, even if they are contemplating suicide. We don't have a complete understanding of what drives someone to kill themselves because we can't ask people who have. I do think there is an element of assuming that either the world or you will be better off if you are dead; which I would like to stress simply is not true, but you are not evil for struggling with that feeling even if people try to make you feel like you are.

Yuu's breakdown being "more of a quiet self-destructive thing," as you stated dear friend, would be extremely poetic. To me it highlights the disparity between Yuu and the overblot boys. They have power and are able to hurt others to try and make themselves feel better, Yuu has next to none and is only able to hurt themselves.

Crowley mentions that there is counseling available to all NRC students, assuming the school follows real life laws we can assume the Professors are mandatory reporters. If Yuu shows signs of depression or self-harm, they will be required to report that and recommend Yuu for counseling, but the thing about therapy is that it's not a one size fits all solution. The patient needs to accept that they have a problem and, perhaps more importantly, trust their therapist otherwise you won't benefit from the treatment.

That's assuming that a counselor would even understand how to treat Yuu in the first place, there's a lot going on with their situation and while I could see a good therapist taking it very seriously, there's only so much they can do, which brings me to my sort of sticking point with this and why it took me so long to answer your ask.

Why in the hell is Yuu in Twisted Wonderland in the first place??? "Because they're Alice" ok sure but what does that like actually mean. I don't want to derail this into theory town but I keep thinking about the translated lines Crowley mutters to himself when calling Yuu a beast tamer that doesn't appear in the text box... something about how they look more like they are meant to be eaten by the beast than tame it.

There is a part of me that feels like Crowley wants Yuu to feel isolated and despondent about their chances of getting home, like he needs them to be accepting of their death and convinced it's the only way they will be useful. Something to do with Grim and that big Chimera at the beginning of the game, in the light novel there is someone telling Yuuya to take their hand but they can't move to take it, all they can do is stare up at the big monster and it's evil grin (if i remember correctly)

Anyway all of that to say I can see two sorts of scenarios leading to Yuu trying to harm themselves.

Route A: Summer

As was correctly pointed out in these tags on the original post, I think Summer would be the worst time for an actively depressed Yuu. If they have been seeing a counselor, they will likely not be available over the summer months, Crowley didn't take us on vacation with him the first time so there's no way he'll do it now, and everyone has their own families to get back to.

They only have Grim and the Ghosts. And while Yuu might love them, they technically belong here. Yuu does not. The lack of other friends bothering them means Yuu has time to think good and hard about where they are. And who they left behind.

I like to listen to Dateline while I work sometimes and one of the things that always gets to me is how little closure people feel when someone goes missing, even if they find out what happened to them. If Yuu is missing in their world and their family loves them... they just have next to no chance of ever finding that out. Ever.

If Yuu has a bad relationship with their family, or none at all, they probably start feeling like they are going insane. They have nothing worth going back to really, to the point that people would probably encourage them to see being in Twisted Wonderland as a good thing, a chance for a fresh start. But it has been anything but.

Summer would be a good time to run away, it's easier to be homeless in the Summer, plenty of places need part time help anyway, and Yuu can make a clean break from the school before anyone notices they're gone.

It's also a good time to decide you want to die. By the time your friends come back they will have already gotten used to life without you anyway.

.... i could see this making grim overblot tbh. He blames the school for taking Yuu from him and by the time everyone returns he is there. Waiting. The consequences of their actions given form.

A monument to all their sins.

Option B: Sacrifice

So back to theory tangent.

Grim and Yuu are one student. Crowley treats them as such, but what if he-

Or whoever the real final boss is

Need them to actually be one student.

So they approach Yuu, offer their sympathies. Tell them they know why Crowley cannot send Yuu home.

"Because you came here by dying, don't you remember? These events you have seen, all your misfortunes and troubles, they've all been like one big dream. What a terrible fate you've met... but no worries. I know how to set you free."

The strange masked man places his hand on your shoulder and guides you to the mirror. You see your reflection in it, for the first time you idly realize, hair spread out on the pavement with a halo of blood spatter about your sleeping head.

"You needn't be scared." the man's voice is calm, soothing even, so much so that you almost believe him when he says

"You've died once before, after all. You know exactly what it feels like, it will just be like going to sleep."

Sleep sounds good, even if you have just gotten done fighting to stay awake, so very good you nearly miss the creature's wicked grin spreading mockingly across the reflection of your peaceful face.

#twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #tw sucidal ideation #tw suicide #sorry i was gone for so long i was obsessing over cows and ufos -_-#i think i worked it out of my system and put posting fic in my goals for this week so time to get back in the saddle

57 notes · View notes