suuuupernovaaa

[suuuupernovaaa]

Accident

Timothee accidentally posts a picture of you, blowing your cover.

The panic sets in like ice flowing through your veins. A tingling at your fingertips shoots straight into your heart. Your eyes are wide, your palms are sweaty. It takes you a few seconds to open up FaceTime and dial his number.

He answers right away.

“Timothee, what did you do?” you ask, your voice low in case he isn’t alone. Your boyfriend is never alone.

The smile he had upon answering fades into something dark. “What?” he asks.

“Instagram,” you reply. “Look at your instagram story.”

When he disappears, you do too, going back to the story. It’s a picture of you perched on a stone wall, looking down the side of a mountain Timothee and you had just hiked. You hadn’t even known he’d just taken it. Your hair was stuck to your neck with sweat, and only part of your face is visible over your shoulder, as you turn to look at him.

His hand is on your shoulder, gripping tightly, possessively, and a hint of a smile plays at the half of your face that’s visible.

You’re wearing one of his t-shirts, an old, plain black one, and the sunset ahead of you makes the picture look like art.

Maybe no one will assume, or wonder. Timothee isn’t even really in it. Just hand.

“Shit, Y/N,” he says, and you swipe back to FaceTime. “Should I delete it?”

“Um… no. Well, maybe. I think people will talk more if you delete it. Maybe just leave it?”

It’s not like he tagged you. You’re not in his following list, because no one is. You’re a total unknown.

“Okay,” he says, the panic in his voice subsiding. “I’m sorry.”

You shake your head. “You don’t have to be sorry. It was an accident. And you can’t hide me forever.”

He rolls his eyes. “You’re hiding you. I’m protecting you.”

A soft smile crosses your lips. “I know.”

He winks. “I gotta go, but I’ll have management keep an eye on things online. Call me after work?”

You nod and he blows you a kiss before hanging up.

—

Boy, were you wrong. You’ve been wrong about some things in your life, but never something this big.

They’ve found your instagram, Facebook, and LinkedIn within two hours. You’re getting dozens of requests by the minute, and you’ve never been more grateful to have your socials private before.

The workday passes in a blur of buzzing on your phone. Most of it is follow requests on instagram, but the rest is your friends and family sending you articles about Timothee Chalamet’s ‘mystery girl revealed’.

Timothee Chalamet & the Lawyer from NYC

Timothee Chalamet’s Secret Lover

Timmy’s girlfriend: we talked to her childhood best friend!

It’s endless and you start requesting they stop sending all the nonsense your way. Your mom calls to ask if you’re okay, and your actual best friend reminds you that you knew this day would come, and she’s here for you.

The comments on his latest instagram post are hard to look away from.

user he’s dating that sweaty beast?

user she looks happy!

user who the hell is she???

user FAT GIRLFRIEDN??

reply to user fuck off with your misspelled fatphobia

Eventually, you put your phone on DND to finish your day. The subway ride home is uneventful, and as soon as you set foot in your modest apartment, you call Timothee.

“Well,” he says as an answer, “now I might have to say sorry.”

Despite the stress of the day, you have to laugh. “Maybe. But, this was going to happen anyway. Though one article called me a ‘social climbing hussy’ and I didn’t love that.”

You throw your bag onto the kitchen table and put your boyfriend on speaker phone so you can find something to order for dinner. This day calls for Thai, or maybe Indian.

“Don’t read that shit, Y/N,” he huffs. “None of it matters. I’m like, really sorry people are going to bother you now. But I’m not sorry that everyone is going to find out how in love and happy I am.”

Your cheeks heat, even though he can’t see you. It hasn’t even been a year, but Timothee is already the most special and wonderful thing in your life, and it’s no wonder when he says things like that.

“I wish you were here,” you sigh.

“Me too. Only a few more days.”

—

You stashed your phone in your room to charge, and to avoid, and turned on the TV. Sitting cross-legged in front of your coffee table in your most comfortable pajamas, you’re about to dig in to the most delicious spread of Indian cuisine when the door buzzes.

Could they have found your address?

You get up and press the speaker. “Let me in! You’re not answering your phone!”

Your heart skips a beat and you’re unable to even respond as you hit the button that unlocks the front door. You stand frozen in shock until three loud knocks sound at the door.

Once it’s open, there he stands, and he’s not empty handed. He’s got what looks to be two dozen beautifully arranged roses along with a giant bag full of what you assume is chocolate and candy.

You grab him by the collar and pull him to you, wrapping your arms around his neck. It’s been weeks since you’ve seen him, and the scent of him erases every bad thing that’s happened in the past 12 hours.

It’s worth it, your mind whispers.

He sets the flowers and gifts down on the kitchen counter. “I did something, and I don’t know if you’re going to like it, but let me explain,” he says, a wincing smile on his lips.

You bring his face to yours for a quick kiss. “I don’t care. I’m so glad you’re here.”

He takes out his phone and hands it to you. It’s unlocked already, and instagram is open.

He’s made a new post, and your heart flutters.

It’s a picture from a few months ago, taken at a friend’s house. You’re sitting on the kitchen counter, and Timothee stands between your legs, both of you laughing, his hands in your hair and yours on his hips. You hadn’t even known your friend had taken it at the time, but it’s been his phone background ever since, he loves it so much.

The caption is simple. “Happy.”

Your reaction surprises you as tears gather in your eyes. “They’re going to really come after me now.”

“I know. And I am sorry. But, Y/N, I know privacy is important to us both… but sometimes, I just want to talk about how happy I am. I think we can find a balance.”

He wipes a tear from your eye.

“I’m proud to be yours, Timothee,” you reply, and his smile stretches ear to ear. “Really, really proud. I love you. I just want to be careful, okay?”

He kisses your nose, then each cheek, and pulls you into a tight embrace. “I’ll do whatever it takes to protect this, Y/N,” he whispers, and you squeeze him tight.

You’ll navigate this together.

#timothee chalamet fic #timothee x reader #timothee Chalamet #Timothee imagine

[suuuupernovaaa]

OMG HI

HI!

[suuuupernovaaa]

More

Timothee finds the sketches you’ve drawn of him.

Chicken freaks me out. It always has. I can never quite be convinced that it’s fully cooked and as a result, it’s almost always dry. Maybe even burnt.

Tonight is no different. I wipe my hands on a dish towel and scowl at the dead bird before me, looking just a little too crisp. It’s seasoned to perfection but really, what good is that if the insides are dry as sand?

“I’m sorry, Tim, but I can’t serve you this!” I holler as I turn from the stove and leave the kitchen to enter the adjoining living room.

Before me is an empty couch. Empty chairs. Sometimes he perches on the round wooden coffee table, but he’s not there either.

“Tim?” I ask. A glance to the right allows me to peer through my bedroom door, and I can see him standing by my bed. “What are you doing?” I ask, pushing the door open wide. He turns to reveal my sketchbook, a new one I got just a couple weeks ago, in his hands.

“I’m sorry, Y/N, I know it’s like a huge violation of privacy!” he says, his eyes wide with panic as if he’d just been caught rifling through my panty drawer.

Actually, this does feel a little like that, but I know I left it open on my desk. I usually stash it before company arrives. Stupid mistake.

It wouldn’t be such a big deal, really, if the pages weren’t full of him.

He’s there, on every page. His face, his eyes, his broad shoulders and thin arms, his angles and sharpness, the branches and leaves that make up my best friend.

I see him in my dreams, or every time I close my eyes. If I don’t draw him, I can’t stop thinking of him when we’re apart. Even then, it’s only a temporary fix.

He extends the sketch book to me, the look of an admonished child still on his face, and I take it with a gentle smile.

“It’s okay. Um, dinner is ready, but it’s not very good, I’m afraid.”

I toss the sketch book onto my rust colored duvet, hoping to toss away his memory of those drawings with it, and turn to leave the room. A blush is creeping across my cheeks, and I really don’t want him to see it.

Tim’s long fingers clasp around my wrist, halting me in my path.

“Y/N…” he says, quietly, just above a whisper, and the floor below me turns to cement.

I squeeze my eyes shut. “We could, um, order out. Maybe Thai?”

The air shifts around me as he walks slowly, still holding my wrist, until he’s right in front of me. His lips are set in a straight line, his brow furrowed, his eyes questioning.

“Tell me,” he commands, so unlike the casual Timmy from just moments before. He stands before me with an almost threatening air, and I pull my shoulders in, and take my wrist from his grasp.

“I burned the chicken.”

It’s not what he’s asking. We both know. It’s been years of dancing around this. I can’t let a sketch book carelessly left open be how he finds out.

“I don’t care. Those drawings, Y/N. What do they mean?”

My cheeks are really heating up now, and as always when I’m overwhelmed, tears prick at the corners of my eyes. I glance over at the sketch book. It’s plain, unassuming, and causing me a lot more trouble than I thought it ever would.

They’re just drawings.

I should open my mouth and say that. Just drawings. Just drawings.

“They’re just,” I stop, the lie stuck on my tongue. “They’re how I feel.”

He walks over to the bed and picks the book up again. He flips a few pages in and lands on a close up of his face. It took me a couple days, I kept going back to get the eyes right.

“People have drawn me before but this is… something else,” he says, staring at the drawing and then back up at me.

He doesn’t mean it arrogantly. He is who he is - and who he is, gets drawn a lot. Mine aren’t particularly special. There are probably better drawings out there of him.

“No one’s ever done anything like this for me. Like, I see myself differently here. Through your eyes.”

My cheeks will explode if they get any hotter. “Well thank you, I think.”

“How do you feel?”

“What?”

“You said, these are how you feel.”

I take the book from his hands and close it. “Don’t, Timothee. We’ve been friends for so long.”

He shakes his head and steps closer. I fight the urge to step back. His gaze is so intense. “Tell me. Please, Y/N. Say it.”

The book is clutched to my chest now, as if it can protect me from this.

As if I want to be protected from this.

“I want…” I stop, lost for a moment in the deep brown of his eyes, staring so passionately into mine. “I want more.”

Just a few words. I can’t think of how else to express it. The way he consumes me whole, and always has.

“More? I can give you more.”

There is no space between us anymore, and the sketch pad falls to the floor. I don’t hear it land. There’s a deafening roar in my ears. The ocean. My heartbeat. His heartbeat.

He wraps one strong arm around my waist, pulling me flush to him, chest to chest, and his other hand comes to my face. Deft fingers trace my cheek. I close my eyes, and lean into them with a sigh.

“More,” he whispers again, his breath on my lips. “I want that too.”

His lips are everything I’ve always imagined. I’ve felt them on my cheek, my hand, but never on the sensitive skin of my own lips.

My mouth opens for him in a heartbeat, and I sigh with longing and fulfillment. My hands are in his hair, on his back, his chest, at his waist. It’s a frenzy but it’s slow, too, and the world spins around us.

He moans my name and pulls away for just one second. “Incredible,” he whispers, a small smile on his lips. “I’m glad you left those drawings out.”

I kiss one cheek, then the other, and softly once more, his lips.

More.

#timothee chalamet #timothée chalamet #timothee x reader #Timothee chalamet fic

[suuuupernovaaa]

Just casually going through your entire repertoire on a random Tuesday morning, reblogging liking drooling over your portfolio here

Ik should be working and studying yes, but... your writing is like ambrosia 🤌

Thank you 😭😭 I hope to start posting again soon!

[suuuupernovaaa]

Today is Monday. On Sunday, you moved into Spencer Reid’s apartment.

He works long hours, while you’re annoyed if work isn’t wrapped up by 4pm. You’re home first but it still doesn’t really feel like home. It feels like your boyfriend’s house.

You put away a small bag of groceries and open a bottle of wine. The dinner you have planned is a marathon, not a a sprint, so you get started on the prep right away while an audio book plays over the speakers.

By the time the chicken is in the oven, the main character is just finding out that her new love interest is a vampire - how shocking!

You put away a few things you hadn’t gotten to yesterday, mostly clothes and records, and tidy up a little. The floors need swept. The place could use a little dusting. The bathroom needs sprucing. Time flies when you’re cleaning and ‘reading with your ears’, as Spencer says.

The timer for the chicken dings and as you pull a delicious smelling meal out of the oven, the front door opens.

You set the hot tray down and grab your phone to pause your audio book. Spencer enters the kitchen as you grab two plates and two wine glasses out of the cupboard. Those are yours, and they make you feel more at home here.

“How was your day?” Spencer asks, setting his bag down on the counter. The clock tells you it’s 7pm - he’s a little later than usual.

“Fine, slow. Yours?”

He’s looking around the apartment, scanning it with his eyes. “You - did you clean?”

“Just a little, while the food cooked.”

He turns back to you, and the expression on his face is hard to read. Is he glad you cleaned? Angry? Annoyed?

The relationship is still relatively new. Your friends all told you it was too soon to move in, but you were already spending almost every night here, and your lease was up. It felt like the logical next step.

“So you cleaned and made what smells like a really, really good dinner, and I just get to come home and enjoy all that? And you, as well?” Spencer crosses the kitchen, a peaceful smile on his handsome face, and the tension you were holding in your back and shoulders finally releases.

He wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you in for a kiss that’s warm, cozy, and expresses his gratitude.

“You’re amazing,” he whispers into your ear as he holds you. “I don’t deserve it.”

“No talk like that,” you reply, squeezing him right and pressing a kiss to his neck.

The longer Spencer holds you there in the kitchen, silently thanking you, the more your surroundings start to feel like home.

You think you’ll probably prove everyone wrong, and it’s not really important, but it does feel good.

Spencer smiles down at you, and as always, you smile back.

Yes, this is where you belong.

#spencer reid #spencer reid fic #spencer reid x reader #spencer read fluff #spencer reid x you

[suuuupernovaaa]

Hello, hellooo!! I've always wanted to say that I really like the way your fics are titled in Na'vi (.❛ ᴗ ❛.) You're also one of my favorite writers here, your writings are amazing!! ^^

Thank you ❤️

[suuuupernovaaa]

Part 2 coming soon.

seze

seze [ˈsɛ.zɛ] n. blue flower

Anonymous Request: Reader confesses her feelings to Ao'nung and he rejects her pretty harshly, and Neteyam comforts her and eventually confesses to her and she realizes her feelings for Neteyam. When it comes time for them to mate before Eywa, Ao’nung regrets rejecting her, but it’s too late.

1,708 words

He looked me right in the eyes as he said it, with no shame, holding back nothing.

"I could never love someone like you."

He didn't yell it, he didn't even use a particularly harsh tone... he said it as if he was commenting that it looked like it might rain. It was a simple fact, and he seemed surprised that it wasn't something I'd considered.

I knew what he meant by 'someone like me'. Someone of little consequence. Someone with no particular or special skills. Someone on the outskirts of the clan, someone no one had ever really noticed.

Someone unimportant.

Though the words knocked the wind out of me, drained the blood from my face and made me feel light headed, all I could do was nod, turn, and walk slowly away.

It had taken weeks to work up the courage to tell Ao'nung how I felt. He had been so kind to me lately... I thought maybe, he felt the way I felt. Now I realized, that was foolish.

I left the beach for the protection of the treelined, and once I was out of sight, I sank to the ground, and let out a painful, low-pitched wail that I felt through my entire body.

The disappointment was hard, but the embarrassment was almost worse. Of course Ao'nung wouldn't be interested in someone like me; he would take a high-born mate, not a fisherman's daughter.

I cried myself to sleep, slumped against a tree, trying to accept my fate.

--

Neteyam noticed a change in Y/N right away. Though she mostly kept to herself, she was always cheerful and happy. He knew Kiri had a particular interest in Y/N, they had become sort of friends, and so she was around his family sometimes.

Something had happened to Y/N about three days ago, but Neteyam didn't know what. Though she was still around, she didn't speak, or smile, or engage hardly at all.

Neteyam asked Kiri what it was, but Kiri just shrugged and told him Y/N hadn't said anything to her.

He thought that was obtuse of Kiri. Hadn't he noticed the change in her friend? She was quiet before - not absolutely silent.

After another day of this, Neteyam could no longer hold his tongue, and when the opportunity presented itself and he found himself alone on the beach with Y/N, who was braiding a fishing net, he decided he had to speak up.

--

Neteyam sat next to me, lifting the net I was working on into his hands. It was small yet, but would be quite large when I was finished.

"Can I talk to you?" he asked.

I glanced over at him and nodded.

"Actually, I wanted to ask... if you're okay?"

My hands, once busy, settled into my lap, gripping the netting tightly. I was not okay, but I couldn't imagine why Neteyam would care. He had never shown any particular interest in me. In fact, no one had, save his sister, but even she hadn't noticed what was going on with me.

Ao'nung was right - I was not lovable.

A tear slipped from my eye, and I brushed it away, hoping Neteyam hadn't noticed.

"I'm fine," I replied.

Neteyam shook his head. "You are crying."

I turned away from him, pulling my knees to my chest. "It doesn't matter, Neteyam. Don't trouble yourself with me."

His warm, strong hand gripped my shoulder, and without thinking, I leaned over, pressing my cheek to his hand. The contact felt so good, and I tried to remember the last time someone had touched me like this... or at all.

"Tell me."

He pulled gently, and I turned to face him. The look on his face was so genuine, so earnest, and so full of concern. For a second, I wondered if he was teasing me. Maybe Ao'nung had told him what happened already, and Neteyam wanted to make fun of me.

That didn't make sense, though. Ao'nung and Neteyam weren't even close to being friends.

So maybe the concern was genuine.

The words spilled out of me then, like vomit, and I couldn't stop them. I told Neteyam about my years-long crush on Ao'nung, how I had pined for him, imagined a life with him, took his kindness to mean something it hadn't meant, and how when I'd told Ao'nung how I'd felt, he made it clear that I was too unimportant for someone like him to ever care about or notice.

I was crying by the end, fat tears rolling down my cheeks and splashing hot onto my lap, but it felt so good to finally tell someone that I didn't care, I couldn't feel embarrassed anymore. I had suffered enough embarrassment to last a lifetime over the past few days; I wanted to be done with that.

When I finished, I furiously wiped the tears from my eyes, and waited for Neteyam's response.

His expression was... angry. His brows furrowed, his mouth pursed, his eyes focused.

"I will kill that moron," he whispered.

I sighed and shook my head. "He doesn't have to love me."

"But he could at least be kind!"

I didn't reply, because I couldn't exactly argue with him.

Neteyam reached out unexpectedly, pulling me to him, wrapping me in a tight hug. Without hesitation, I wrapped my arms around him, scooting closer, our bodies pressed together.

It felt so comforting, so intimate, so nice to be treated like this and cared about, I would've started crying again if I'd had any tears left.

"Neteyam, thank you," I whispered.

He pulled back, looking me in the eyes. "You are important, Y/N. I have watched you. You are kind and thoughtful. You watch Tuk carefully to ensure she doesn't ever get hurt, you treat Kiri with thoughtfulness and protect her when others treat her like she's different, you even tolerate Lo'ak. I have never met anyone so gentle or caring. That someone could hurt you... it makes me want to kill him, Y/N. He had no right to speak to you that way. You are like... you are like a flower, with soft petals. You should be protected, given water and sun, not stomped on."

A flower. This is was nicest thing anyone had ever said to me, and Neteyam was staring into my eyes, so intently. How could someone like him, the son of Taruk Makto, have noticed and felt these things about me?

"Neteyam, I..." I searched my mind for a perfect reply, but could only come up with: "I see you, Neteyam."

"I see you, Y/N."

My lips spread wide in a smile - my first in many days - and Neteyam smiles in return.

--

After that day, Neteyam and I were scarcely ever apart. He became at first, a best friend, my closest confidant, and then naturally, it turned into something more.

There wasn't a moment when I realized it had happened. He just began holding my hand nearly all of the time, guiding me by the small of my back, touching his forehead to mine when we part and finally, one night, he kissed me.

It didn't even shock me. It felt natural, that Neteyam would kiss me. It felt really almost overdue. Neteyam should have been kissing me since the moment we met.

We were completely in step, in sync, together always. Neteyam was meant to be my mate, and I was meant to be his.

He didn't really ask me, formally, to be his mate. He just mentioned once, something about, "when we're mated..." and I agreed.

And the date was set... but we told almost no one, outside of his family and mine. It felt special, secret, just for us.

--

"Kiri says they're very happy," Tsireya told her mother while she chopped fruit. "I think it's nice, that Y/N has found someone. She's always seemed so lonely."

Ronal nodded. "That's good. Good for Y/N. She's a nice girl."

Ao'nung sat across from them, his jaw set in anger. Y/N had done him a kindness by telling no one about his harsh rejection, and he had since realized that.

It wasn't that he didn't like Y/N. He had always thought she was beautiful, and kind, and there was something interesting about her, a quality he hadn't seen in other women in the clan... but no one really knew her, or cared about her. Her parents weren't particularly important to the clan, and neither was she, and Ao'nung thought, as future Ole'eyktan, he should have someone better.

He had come to realize that he had been stupid. Better wasn't more well-known, more talented, more superficial... better was kind, and caring, and someone his mother thought was a 'nice girl'.

"They are to be mated before Ewya," Tsireya said with a blush. "They don't plan to make a ceremony of it, just the two of them."

Ronal smiled. "Beautiful."

Ao'nung sat, simmering in anger at the chance he had lost, thinking of how Neteyam had almost beat him senseless when he found out how Ao'nung had treated Y/N.

He knew now, he deserved it, and he'd missed his chance.

--

When Ao'nung had told me he could never love me, it had seemed like the end of my life. It made me feel stupid, and worthless, and ugly. I hadn't thought I'd ever recover.

Then, Neteyam breathed new life into me. He didn't have to, but he did, and he kept doing it, every single day since then.

We emerged from the water, Neteyam breathless, chest heaving, my mate before Ewya.

He pulled me into his arms once more, pressing a desperate kiss to my lips, holding my face in his hands, then wrapping his arms around my waist.

"I love you," he whispered over and over between kisses, and I thought I could cry with gratefulness and joy.

"I love you, Ma Neteyam," I replied. I pulled away, just for a moment, to smile at him. "Thank you."

He pushed the wet hair from my face. "My flower," he said with a soft smile, as he so often did.

The sting of rejection was long behind me, replaced by enough joy to last a lifetime.

#neteyam #neteyam x reader

[suuuupernovaaa]

Neteyam holds onto you so tightly, you sometimes worry he’s going to leave marks.

He is always touching you, and he doesn’t seem to realize it. It might be his hand in yours or his arm around your waist, or it might be more subtle.

If you’re sitting next to each other, he will always close any gap, so that your legs or shoulders are touching.

If you’re hunting or fishing, he will reach out for your tail or your hair absent mindedly, as you walk.

He meets his eyes with yours often, too. Waiting for you to glance his way, so that he can smile or wink at you, reminding you of how he cares, how connected he feels to you.

When you’re alone, it’s something else entirely. He presses himself to you, pulls you into his lap, kisses your cheeks and shoulders. Even an inch of space is too much for your mate; he won’t accept it.

Lo’ak asked you one time, if it bothered you, the way Neteyam ‘hangs off of you’, and you couldn’t help but laugh.

You are Neteyam. Neteyam is you. The space between you is a burden. It’s a barrier. If he did not reach for you, you’d be reaching for him. The feel of his skin against yours is the ultimate comfort, and your greatest security.

Neteyam can’t keep his hands off of you, and you don’t want him to.

#neteyam #neteyam x you #neteyam x reader #neteyam fic

[suuuupernovaaa]

The first time Spider-Punk pulled off his mask, it sucked all the air from my lungs.

My eyes stung, my train of thought drove right out the window, and my feet carried me the few steps across the large room, right up to him, without even asking me for permission to move.

“Hobie?” I asked, clutching my own mask in my sweaty hands. I reached up, my fingertips grazing his cheek as he stared down at me.

The expression on his face was of bewilderment. I imagine mine was much the same.

“Yeah. You okay?” he asked, and I wasn’t sure how to answer.

I pulled my hand away, realizing that was rude, to touch him without asking. It was just… eerie, to see him.

“Excuse me,” I said suddenly, and made a quick exit to the bathroom. I was able to lock myself in a stall before I started crying, and tried to keep as quiet as possible - but it was those big, heaving sobs that uproot your entire nervous system.

He looked just like my Hobie. My Hobie. God, my Hobie. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw him.

Sometimes vibrant, alive, dancing with me, kissing me, telling me I was the most beautiful girl in the world.

Often, lifeless. On the pavement. Eyes staring past me, up at the sky, but not seeing.

It took me a while to compose myself. I splashed some water on my face and hoped it wasn’t too obvious I’d been crying.

When I emerged, still shaking a little, Hobie was there waiting.

Not my Hobie, I told myself.

We started at each other for a moment. “I’ve got an Evelyn back home. Or, I had one.”

The words take a moment to settle. Just as I lost him in my world, he lost me.

A canon event.

“Were you two…?”

He gives me a soft, sad smile and shakes his head. “It was headed that way, I think, but no. You?”

I nodded. “We were. We just moved in together when he died.”

“How long ago?”

“2 years.”

“4 for me.”

Another awkward silence settles over us. “Do you like tea?” Hobie asks.

“Yes. I grew to like it, I had to,” I say, and he returns a knowing smile.

“Let’s have a cuppa, then. You tell me about other me, I’ll tell you about other you.”

He extends his hand, and I only hesitate for a moment before I take it. Even though this man before me is a stranger, it feels like a piece of me, dead for two years, is stirring back to life.

I would follow him anywhere.

#hobie brown #hobie brown fic #hobie brown fluff

[suuuupernovaaa]

pxen

pxen [p’ɛn] n. functional clothing (item of)

Based on this request.

Lo'ak reaches out, touching the delicate woven poncho that his sister is wearing. It's not the kind of thing Lo'ak would typically notice, but something about it has caught his eye. There's a sparkle to it, something woven through the fabric that catches the light, very similar to the na'vi skin in the darkness of night.

"Where did you get this?" Lo'ak asks. Kiri looks down, and then shrugs.

"It was just with my stuff. It's really pretty, though. Tuk found one too... and mom."

"Huh," Lo'ak says, and his attention is then drawn to the carpet under his feet. A rug, brown and maroon, intricately woven and brand new. "This is new too, right?"

Kiri looks down, following her brother's gaze. "I think so. Looks clean."

"Huh," Lo'ak repeats, and then shrugs and moves on with his day.

xx

Even though I knew this day would come, I've been hoping to put it off for as long as possible. It isn't so much that I don't want to meet Neteyam's family, it's just that I'm worried to disappoint them.

As much as Neteyam hates it when I point it out, he's special. Not just because of the things I love about him, like his quiet sense of humor, his easy-going smile, his strength and his compassion.

He's special because of who he is, and who he was born to be. His birthright makes him special. Eldest son of Olo'eyktan. Were Neteyam ugly, harsh, stupid and cruel - the true opposite of himself - he would still be above my station.

He would still be too good for me.

And yet, here we are, walking hand in hand to meet his parents, so that he can introduce me as his betrothed. His intended mate. I had always told him I did not want his family to know about me, but never really told him why, until last night.

"Why now?" Neteyam had asked when I told him I was finally ready to meet his parents, moments after he took my hands into his and asked me to be his mate for life.

"Because I know now, truly that you love me. I don't need to be afraid anymore."

He had shaken his head and brushed a tear from my cheek. "I've loved you since the moment we met."

So now we approach their home, and even though I am secure in my relationship with Neteyam, I am nervous about being accepted into their family. He reassures me over and over that they will love me as he does, they will be thrilled for us, but it doesn't stop me from feeling sick to my stomach.

"Neteyam!" Taruk Makto is the first to greet him as we enter their tent, looking up from where he sits, and it's overwhelming to be in such close proximity to our clan leader. I bow my head as he looks from me to Neteyam and back at me again. His wife, Neytiri, is seated at his side, and turns her attention away from the arrows she is sharpening to look at us.

"Dad," Neteyam says, "Mom. I want to introduce you to Y/N."

He lets go of my hand, and places his arm around my waist, pulling me close to him. After only a moment of hesitation, Neteyam's parents rise to their feet. As they do, I feel movement behind me, and glance to see Neteyam's siblings entering.

Kiri is wearing the shawl I made for her, and Tuk has a dressing wrapped around her tail that I crafted. Beneath our feet, I notice a rug I just finished a few days ago. It makes me feel a little more at ease and at home, to be surrounded by my creations.

"Nice to meet you, Y/N," Olo'eyktan says, and I touch my fingertips to my forehead, and then bring them down in a formal greeting. I repeat the gesture for Neteyam's mother.

"I've been, uh, spending a lot of time with Y/N. She's really wonderful. She's better on the loom than anyone else in the clan. She made the rug we stand on, and Kiri's poncho, and many other things I've brought home. She was just too, uh, shy to own up to her talent."

Neytiri turns around, looking on a nearby table, and grabs another poncho I made. This one is green, more earthy than the sparkly one Kiri is wearing.

"This, too?" Neytiri asks, and I nod. "This is beautiful. They're all beautiful. Truly, unlike anything I've seen. You made these?"

"I did," I reply a little nervously. "I wanted to give them to you myself but, since we hadn't be introduced, I had Neteyam bring them to you."

"I asked Y/N to be my mate last night, and she said yes," Neteyam says suddenly, and a hush falls over the room.

I can feel my heart pounding in my chest, wondering which way their reactions will go.

Confusion? Anger? Disappointment?

"Wow, that's insane!" comes a cry from Lo'ak, and he reaches out, extending his arms to me for a hug. "Another sister, I guess! I mean, I've got enough, but you seem okay." He wraps me in strong arms, and I return the hug, so grateful that he's broken the silence.

When Lo'ak releases me, I turn anxiously to see Neteyam's parents, and the scene is exactly what I would have dreamed up if I hadn't been too scared to imagine this day.

Netytiri holds her eldest son in her arms, and over his shoulder, she smiles serenely at me. Jake has his hands outstretched, one on his wife's shoulders, the other on Neteyam's.

"I wish you had brought her here sooner, so we could get to know her!" Neytiri says.

"You guys are scary," Neteyam replies, and his father laughs. Neytiri reaches out, extending a hand to me, and I place my hand in hers.

"I have known something was going on with my son. He is as happy as he has ever been, smiling like a moron from morning until night. I was waiting for this moment." She holds one of my hand in both of hers, grinning at me. "You are welcome in our family. Now we can give you gifts in return, for the beautiful things you have given us."

I shake my head, feeling embarrassed at the tears pricking behind my eyes. "No, you don't have to do that. I like making those things."

Our chief hugs me next, quickly and a little awkwardly, and the relief I feel is palpable.

Quick acceptance is a surprise. I had imagined at least a little resistance, but I hadn't counted on Neteyam's parents putting his health and happiness above all else.

How could I? I didn't know them, hadn't known that besides being Olo'eyktan and the next Tsahik, Neytiri and Jake were just parents who loved their children.

We leave the tent much later, after hours of talking and celebration, and before we get too far away, Neteyam pulls me into his arms and presses his lips to mine in what feels like a long overdue kiss.

"I knew they would love you, just as I do," he whispers, his lips still touching mine.

#neteyam #neteyam x reader #neteyam sully #avatar twow

[suuuupernovaaa]

can you do a Ao'nung/Neteyam (or anybody) fic where their partner isn't well known and suddenly one day he's introducing them to the clan like, "this is my mate, they're really good at weaving carpets and rugs and 'are and stuff :D" or something like that.

And everyone is just looking at their new and well made stuff like, "oh, so that's where this stuff came from".

yeah. I'm mind spewing at this point 🤣, love you though

About to write this - luv u too

[suuuupernovaaa]

Suit | Hobie Brown

Y/N sees Hobie in a suit for the first time. It goes... well.

18+

It had taken me at least 20 minutes to assemble the perfect jewelry set to go with my dress. Admittedly, the dress itself was boring. A deep maroon, with billowy sleeves and a tight bodice. Since the dress was so simple, I felt the need to adorn myself in gold jewelry. Earrings up and down both ears, multiple necklaces of varying lengths and textures, bracelets that clanged together in a satisfying way as I moved, and a gold hoop through my septum that was delicate and only noticeable up close.

"Perfect," I whispered, stepping away from the mirror to admire my appearance. It had been a while since I'd gotten so dressed up. My free time was either spent on the couch out in the living room, exercising (which I hated, but had a life-long compulsion to do), or doing whatever Hobie wanted to do.

Tonight was a first for us both. First wedding together. First formal event. First time Hobie was meeting my family.

"Well?" I heard Hobie say from behind me. He appeared in the doorway, and I could see him in the mirror before me.

My jaw fell to my lap.

Hobie, usually dressed in tight jeans, ripped t-shirts and studded jackets, looked entirely unlike himself.

He wore a suit - an honest to god suit - dark blue with silver trim. Underneath, he wore a gray, knitted vest over a white button up shirt. Everything was perfectly tailored to suit him, courtesy of my parents. The pants hung perfectly above a pair of gray dress shoes that I knew were pinching his toes. His shoulders looked broad and strong, his waist tantalizingly thin, and I stood up to get a good look.

"Wow," I replied in a whisper. The clean, sharp suit was in a delicious contrast with his facial piercings, and the tattoos creeping up over the collar of the freshly pressed white shirt.

He spun around, arms out to his side. "Well?" he asked again.

I glanced down at the watch dangling on my wrist. 11:30. We didn't need to be there until 1, which meant we had a little time before we needed to get in a cab.

"I don't think I can wait until after to fuck you," I replied, and Hobie's pierced eyebrows raised towards his hairline.

"That so?" he asked, already charging towards me. "Don't wanna mess up the suit."

"We'll be quick," I replied, meeting him in the middle of a room for a kiss that guaranteed I would need to re-apply my make up before leaving.

--

We weren't as quick as we thought we would be, but by 12:15, we were in a cab and only set to be a minute or two late. I buttoned the top button on Hobie's shirt and he smirked down at me.

"Should I wear a suit more often?" he asked.

Flashes of passionate kisses, Hobie ripping my underwear off, entering me without either of us taking any other clothes off, flashed across eyes, and I clenched my thighs together, well aware a cab driver was listening to us.

"I'm worried you'll attract too much attention," I replied with a teasing smile.

He put two fingers under my chin, and tilted my head up to his. He pressed a gentle kiss on my freshly lined lips, and one on my powdered nose.

"Yours is the only attention I want."

#Hobie brown #Hobie brown smut #Hobie brown fic

[suuuupernovaaa]

Just a reminder - requests are open.

#hobie brown #miguel O’Hara #neteyam

[suuuupernovaaa]

Safe - Miguel O'Hara x f!Reader

tw: mention of death, falling

Fluff. Miguel saves your life, and confesses his love.

Have you ever had a dream where you're falling, and you wake up, safe in your bed, but your heart is beating fast and your head feels a little light, and you're disoriented?

It's like that, but... you're actually falling through the air. The cold wind whips around your body, blowing your hair upwards as you hurl towards the pavement, and you can't see or really process anything except the sheer speed with which you're falling through the air.

Before you can even begin to process that you re about to die, he reaches you. With a grunt, he wraps one arm around your waist, pulling you to him, and you fall together for a moment.

"Hold on!" he says through gritted teeth, and you find the strength to wrap your arms around his strong, broad shoulders. His free arm shoots out, and his claws sink into the building you were just thrown from. Debris flies around you as he slows you both down, tearing brick from steel.

You grunt and moan as your pace grows slower and slower, until finally, his feet touch the ground. You cling to him, your breath ragged, your cheeks wind burnt, your heart racing as fast as it ever has.

"Jesus fuck," you hiss under your breath, and before you even have a chance to breath or think, Miguel lifts you up into his arms again, charging down the street, and you bounce along hopelessly, clinging to him, until he swings into a dark alley and sets you down once more, away from the chaos and prying eyes.

He rips his mask off, and looks down at you. He has to reach out and steady you with a hand on your hip, and you lean back against the dirty stone wall.

"I almost died," you say, your eyes meeting his.

You're still out of breath when Miguel brings his face to yours, crushing your lips in a kiss that seems to express all the desperation you feel. His lips are as soft as you always imagined they would be, warm, and you're both out of breath but not willing to pull away from one another.

You grab his shoulders as his arms snake tightly around your waist, lifting you up. You wrap your legs around his waist, and he presses you against the cold stone behind you.

His lips leave your mouth, but trail down your neck, and he whispers between kisses, "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, mi amor."

Your hands are in his hair now, and you try to catch your breath, but it's nearly impossible.

"You saved me," you whisper, yanking his head back by his hair suddenly. Once the shock wears off, a small smile creeps across his face.

"Eres mi vida, mi amor, mi todo," he says, and kisses you once more, softly this time, a gentle kiss.

"Take me home, Miguel," you say with a soft smile, pushing a strand of hair from his eyes. "Stay with me tonight."

He cradles you in his arms once more, and this time, there is no panic. You know now - you're always safe with Miguel.

#Miguel o'hara #Miguel o'hara x reader #Miguel o'hara x you #Miguel o'hara fluff

[suuuupernovaaa]

Miguel can’t stay mad at you.

He’d like to sometimes. He’d really like to. No one gets under his skin like you do. No one else has the ability to really bother him like you. No one makes him roll his eyes harder, or provide him with more serious urges to punch holes in the wall.

He just… can’t stay mad.

He knows why, too.

It’s not because you’re beautiful. You are the most beautiful woman he’s ever met, but that’s not it.

It’s not your laugh, like church bells ringing. Not the way you walk into a room and demand everyone’s attention. Even in a room of spider-people, you stand out. It makes Miguel proud, the way you command a crowd.

It’s not your sense of humor, your quick wit, or your intellect.

If Miguel is being honest, he can’t stay mad at you because even if you are working overtime to piss him off, no one knows Miguel O’Hara like you do.

No one else truly sees him. Supports him. Loves him. Needs him.

Not like you.

He feels so passionately about protecting you, nurturing your innocent spirit, loving you nearly unconditionally. He can’t stand the feeling of being upset with you. His body rejects it.

So after he rolls his eyes, and you sigh, he reaches out and pulls you into his arms. You fall as you always do, leaning against his broad, strong chest.

You feel safe there, held so tightly, and he relishes in the knowledge that you do.

Maybe someday Miguel will stay mad at you.

Not today.

#miguel o'hara #miguel O’Hara fluff #miguel o’hara x reader

[suuuupernovaaa]

Hi!!!!

Can you do fic where Miguel is terrified of his wife and is worried what would happen to him if she finds out what he did to Miles (she found out and ends up scolding him causing the gang to laugh)

Also I love your work💕

I’ll be writing this soon ❤️

[suuuupernovaaa]

The creaking of your bedroom door, slow and quiet, alerts you that Hobie is entering your room.

You squint at the clock on your bedside table. 2am.

The blanket lifts up, and Hobie slides in next to you. You’ve woken up a few times to find him next to you, but this is the first time you’ve been awake for his arrival.

You roll over so that you’re laying on your back, and turn your head to stare at him.

It’s too dark to really see the expression on his face.

“Sorry,” he whispers.

“You ok?” you reply.

He reaches over, feeling on the covers lazily until his fingers bump into yours, and he laces your fingers into his, holding tightly.

“Missed you,” he whispers, and you smile.

Maybe in the morning, you and Hobie will finally admit that you’re more than friends. Tonight, you’ll sleep peacefully because you’re next to each other, like you always do.

#hobie brown #hobie brown fluff #hobie brown x reader