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thepersonnamedsam · 11 months

Note

you already know how much I love gen z driver! could you maybe write something of how would it be if gen z reader’s birthday happened to be during one of the gp’s? how everyone acts and makes it all about her?

happy birthday!

pairing: the genz!driver x '23!grid

summary: it’s the genz!drivers birthday, and it just happens to be the miami gp!

word count: 1.7k

warnings: some swear words and some google translated spanish and dutch :)

note: oh i just love all of your request, especially that one, bc i’m a birthday lover myself! have fun reading it and feel free to request more!! <3

masterlist/ taglist

The first people to congratulate her, were her parents. They called her, in the middle of the night; they forgot that time zones exist. But her heart was full when she picked up the phone at 3AM and both of her parents where singing ‚happy birthday‘ to her. What wasn’t so good, was that she had to be asleep, because it was a Sunday and race day! But it didn’t matter, it was her birthday!

Two hours later, her phone was ringing again, but this time not because someone was wishing her a happy birthday, no, it was her alarm. But today it was okay. 5AM on your birthday doesn’t feel that early, does it now? At least it didn’t for her.

Andy, her personal trainer, knocked on her door at exactly 6.30AM, holding a tiny cupcake with a candle in it. „Happy birthday, y/n!“, his voice cheerful and happy. Her smiled widened and her heart full with love again. „Thank you, Andy.“

„Are you ready for the race?“, Andy asked her. She nodded and closed her hotel door. „I’m excited to see Danny again and Nando and all the other people of course. Oh and definitely Lewis.“, Birthdays were her thing, she always missed them in school, either she had them on a weekend or she was on holiday. So, being surrounded by people who are important to her, was the best present she could’ve gotten.

On the way to the paddock, Andy let her pick out the music, her car playlist was blasting on full volume. Tongue Tied by GROUPLOVE was her favourite song at the moment, that’s why she was singing at the top of her lungs to the lyrics.

„Take me to your best friends house, go around this roundabout, oh yeah“, she looked at Andy as if he would follow the orders of the song.

The music died down, as they arrived at the paddock. Press was already waiting on her, they knew it was her special day and hoped to get some good footage of the birthday-girl. Usually the media annoyed her this early in the morning, but today, nothing could’ve ruined her day. She smiled and waved to the camera, spoke to some press people and had nice conversations with all of them.

The media always tried to find some gossip, especially on the young driver, but not today. They were happy to see her this happy.

As she set foot on the paddock, people were congratulating her. Pads on the back, some strokes on her arm here and there, everyone was nice to her, and who doesn’t enjoy some attention sometimes. Especially if it’s for something you didn’t work for. It was her favourite day of the year, Christmas is second.

„Danny!“, she shrieked as soon as she saw him. She sprinted towards the Australian and jumped into his arms. „I missed you so bad!“ Daniel just laughed and hugged the young driver. „Happy birthday, y/n.“

Her smile was consistent and contagious, every person she smiled at, they just had to smile back. Even Max smiled at her. Well, he always smiled at her, she was one of the persons that could make him smile.

„Max, can you give me a piggyback ride?“, she looked at him with puppy dog eyes and he just couldn’t deny her. „Of course, zus sister.“

As Martin Brundle spotted the two, he motioned to his cameraman to put the focus on them. „And now we see Max Verstappen carrying the birthday girl y/n. It is not rare to see the young driver interact with the different drivers. Let’s wish her a happy birthday“, he talked into the camera. „Hello you two, happy birthday y/n, am I the first to congratulate?“, the older man looked at her with an amusing look on his face. „Martin, as much as I love you, you are hopefully not the first person to wish me a happy birthday“, she looked at him with a serious face.

„Did Max congratulate yet?“, a challenging look on Martins face, he pointed at the camera and said: „Remember, this is a livestream.“, Max‘ cheeks turned a pretty pink colour and y/n gasped. „He did not!“, she gasped. „Max, you didn’t wish me a happy birthday?!“ - „I’m sorry, schat darling. Happy birthday, my dear.“

But how could she hold a grudge against a face that looked like Sid from Ice Age?

Fernando was the next person she saw, and he instantly grinned at her. „Oh Nando, do you know whose special day it is today?“, she singsang to the oldest driver on the grid. „Hmm, let me guess, is it Roscoes?“, he laughed as he saw her shocked face. „How could you, I thought we were friends?“ - „We are, we are, cariño darling. Feliz cumpleaños happy birthday, y/n.“

„How old are you now, 5?“, he laughed at her. „Har har, very funny Nando. How old are you turning this year, 60?“ She was always getting irritated fast. He grabbed her by her hip and pushed her into a side hug of his. „Don’t ever change, cariño.“

„Don’t have a plan for that, who’d change something as fabulous like this“, her hands were pointing to herself. „But on a serious note, Nando, do you know where Lewis is? I’ve been searching for him.“ Fernando only shook his head, he didn’t know where the British driver was. He rubbed over her hair as she left his side to search for her mentor.

„Oh Lewis! Your favourite person is looking for you“, she shouted over the paddock, with no luck. She didn’t even see a trace of Lew, none. But what she did find, was a monegasque driver with the number 16 and a spaniard driving under the number 55. They were arguing over some bullshit, as always, as they spotted her. „y/n! Over here“, Charles shouted over to her and waved his hand. She ran over to them and greeted the older drivers with a side hug. Carlos quickly kissed her head as he wished her a brilliant birthday. Charles even sang the first to lines of the song.

She was a bit embarrassed, but she enjoyed the attention of the two Ferrari drivers. „I love you guys, but have you seen Lewis?“, she smiled at the two as they rolled their eyes. She just wanted to see her favourite person on the paddock. She loved them all equally, but you couldn’t deny that Lewis definitely was her favourite. „I think I saw him at Mercedes, his motorhome“, Charles told her, she totally missed the sarcastic undertone of his and just skipped along to the Mercedes garage.

Before she even set a foot in the motorhome, Toto Wolff approached her and squished her into a hug. „Alles gute zum Geburtstag, liebes! Happy birthday, darling! How are you, so happy to see you“, he whispered into her ear. She loved Toto. „Hi Toto!“, she grinned up at him, „I’m good, thank you. Do you know where Lewis is?“ Toto laughed and pointed to his drivers room. „Thanks!“, she yelled as she took off.

She hasn’t been to her own motorhome, just wandering around the paddock and taking in all the attention from the others. And as she knocked on the door, she knew she’d receive the best attention of them all.

„It’s open“, she heard and busted into the tiny room. „Hello, your favourite human on this planet has arrived and will be gracing your presence from now on!“ She grinned at him and he only laughed and embraced the girl. „I have a present for the birthday girl? do you know where she is“, he joked and turned around to grab her present. „A present? Aw Lewis, you shouldn’t have, you totally should have.“

The present contained some gag gifts, such as a Mercedes hat and shirt, or some shirts with funny pattern on it. But the original present was a necklace. It wasn’t anything special, really. It was a simple silver necklace with a tiny turtle as a pendant. Her eyes were tearing up, so she quickly wiped them away.

„Is this one of the necklaces that makes you a godparent of a sea turtle?“ - „It sure is, have fun with“ he turned the pendant around and looked at the engraving on it „Yertle. He is now your godchild“, he smiled at her and motioned to y/n to turn around, so he could put the necklace on. „Thank you so much, it means a lot“, she hugged him as a thank you. He smiled at her, he adored the young driver and was grateful that he was apart of her journey.

„Thank you, love you Lewis!“, she yelled to him as she sprinted out of the motorhome. She was finally headed to her own garage. They had planned a surprise party for her and Lewis was the distraction. As she reached her motorhome, she didn’t see anyone. „Hello, is it not race day?“, she joked into the dark.

„Happy birthday, y/n!“

She jumped, her heart was racing, but she had a giant smile on her face. Her heart, once again, was full, full with love.

„Ahh, thank you guys!“, she squealed and sprinted into the engineers and mechanics, just like she won a race, which she hasn’t, by the way. She hugged all of them, thanked all and smiled the biggest smile she ever smiled. „I’m so grateful for all of you! And now, let’s win this race!“

She didn’t win, but was one of her best birthdays so far. And the after party was her personal highlight of the day. There was a huge pile of presents, just for her of course.

Lando was the DJ, Max was standing on a table, preparing to do a toast for her and Danny was laughing and pointing his camera at everybody.

The evening was definitely something she’d remember, maybe not Max‘ toast, as it was very embarrassing;

„Dear people, we have gathered here to celebrate not only my win, but also a birthday of some special person. She is not our girlfriend, which we are all happy about, but they’re all jealous of her, y/n! Happy birthday, you beast, come up here!“

The alcohol definitely made it more bearable, but the fact that Pierre had to drag you to Mac spoke for itself.

„Pierre, let me be, go back to your boyfriend“, she spoke harshly to the French man, but he ignored her with a smirk on his face and brought her up to Max.

„Ladys and gents, the birthday girl herself!“

It was one of the better party’s she attended and when she looked at all the posts she’s been tagged, she found one particular that she liked the most.

daniel3.jpg

Liked by yninsta, charles_leclerc and 473’827 others

daniel3.jpg happy birthday to my personal favourite female driver of all time! let’s raise a glass or two, to all the things i’ve lost on you ;)

View all 4638 comments

yninsta i am the only female driver…

landonorris that’s why your his fav

yninsta rude af

daniel3.jpg don’t fight kids

charles_leclerc happy birthday y/n!

carlossainz55 yeah, feliz compleaños to our fav girl

pierregasly liked by pierre gasly

f1girly we love all the drivers in the comments, y/n is definitely the paddock princess

likedbypear oh yes, idk if i want to be her or with her

yninsta be definitely with me, c’mon

neymarjr happy birthday y/n!

°°°

taglist: @ironmaiden1313 , @topguncultleader , @missskid , @gulabjamooon , @lovelyy-moonlight , @peachyplumsss , @mistrose23 , @copper-boom , @love4lando , @champomiel , @serenityleah , @iloveyou3000morgan , @angelwithoutmywings , @elleeeee21

#f1 x reader #formula 1 #f1 #charles leclerc x reader #carlos sainz x reader #fernando alonso #genz driver #daniel ricciardo #lewis hamilton x reader #lando norris #lando norris x reader #daniel ricciardo x reader #max verstappen x reader #pierre gasly x reader #fernando alonso x reader #toto wolff x reader #female driver

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m00nc4kes · 3 months

Text

Call Me?

hobie brown x black! reader

words: 1.4k

rating: gen

summary: You find an old note with a number written on it.

warnings: none :). reader is gender neutral and black (even if its not mentioned)

You held the small piece of paper in your hand as your eyes traced a string of numbers you’d long forgotten about. You had come across the note by a complete stroke of luck, or perhaps misfortune from how your heart had yet to resume beating.

Unpacking boxes in your new apartment had been a long and grueling process that made you determined to not stop and reminisce. Even so, your box of high school memorabilia enticed you, making you grab your boxcutter and glide the blade along the taped edges. Ironically, you had triple-taped the box shut to prevent yourself from getting distracted. Alas, it couldn’t be helped.

You flipped through your old yearbook, taking in faces you hadn’t seen in nearly a decade. You knew that some people in your class never had the chance to have their picture in the book due to missed deadlines or having an inability to sit still and smile at the camera (a vague voice reminded you in the back of your mind).

You continued to take things out of the box like old assignments, flyers, and notebooks. What you hadn’t expected was a piece of paper to slip out of your previously cherished music notebook. When you picked up the note, your heart hit a wall and you swore you would never recover.

You reread the messy ink that was scrawled onto the paper:

Call me? ;)

(XXX) XXX-XXXX

-Hobie

Hobie.

Flashes of a boy with a lopsided grin entered your mind. You don’t know how you could’ve forgotten about the boy who captured your heart by sliding a simple note to you. Years spent together roaming the same crowded halls, sneaking into concerts, and making music together all started with that note. This note.

No, you were sure you never completely forgot about him. Your first love would always linger in the bright part of your subconscious. It was just that— life moved on.

Yet, you held memories of that boy close to your soul as painful as it was to remember them. So in reality, you knew you never forgot about him, you simply avoided thinking about him until it became second nature. Until you couldn’t deny his existence with concrete proof— with the note in your hand.

You would never forget how you two had bonded through a common love and appreciation for music. He was your first in so many areas and was someone you had commonly thanked the stars for.

Hobie. Hobie Brown.

He made you feel alive after your mother’s sudden death and your father’s sudden emotional reservation. You couldn’t possibly remember being a teenager without remembering Hobie.

Nights spent sneaking on the landline and typing in the number you had known by heart to talk to your boyfriend. Oh, how your father despised catching you twirling your finger along the phone cord in the late hours of the night. He would always say that his child didn’t need to be hanging around some punk teen who had no direction in life. Though, there was nothing he could do. You loved Hobie.

So when your dad suddenly dropped the news that you two would be leaving the city to be with family on the opposite side of the country, you lost your mind. But all your screams and cries and pleads didn’t do anything to stop it.

Hobie would stay in the city with hopes of making it big, while you would finish your last year of high school in a random town no one’s ever heard of. So, you made the reckless decision to cut your relationship off.

You were seventeen and doomed to believe that your world was ending and you didn’t want to drag Hobie down with you.

You remembered that last day, how could you ever forget? Watching Hobie’s heartbroken face as your dad drove you two away, never to be heard from again.

It was a lifetime ago. You supposed, that was the end of it. An end to a chapter, never to be opened or read again.

Yet, here you were, nearly 8 years later, with this note. With this number.

Before you could stop yourself, your eyes flicked over to your phone across the room. It was sat on top of a box labeled: bedroom. What were the odds that Hobie kept the same number? He never had a landline and kept his flip phone tucked in his front pocket. What were the odds?

You stared at the paper again then back at your phone. What were the odds? You slowly shifted toward it but stopped yourself. An image of Hobie’s crestfallen expression entered your mind. Guilt threatened to take hold of you but you stopped it with a heavy exhale.

“What am I doing?” you muttered. You were supposed to be unpacking, not going back down memory lane. It was why you had taped up that godforsaken box in the first place.

You slowly reached for the music notebook and slid the note back into its place, then put the entire thing in the box. With a sudden resolve, you put the box into the closet and shut it behind you.

You walked across the room to your stack of boxes and moved your phone to your bed. You decided to start with the “bedroom” box and peeled off the tape. It came off easily and you tossed it aside, just like how you had tossed aside your dreams of making music with Hobie.

You paused. You could feel your brows furrow at the jab you made at yourself.

You hadn’t tossed aside any dream, you thought indignantly as you pulled out the items inside the box with a little more force than necessary. You just made reasonable dreams. Like getting a degree to show teenagers how to pursue their love for music.

You grew up and after all this time, you were sure Hobie did too. Who knew where life took him? You surely didn’t know.

You tried to chew on that but you didn’t like the taste. You set your picture frame down and stared at your phone for a long moment. The air stilled and your heart slowly picked up its pace as a thought struck you.

…one call wouldn’t hurt, right?

Your fingers curled around your phone as you tried to will your heart to stop racing. You would only do it once, you told yourself as you found your legs leading you to your closet. Only one time, you reminded yourself when you found the notebook again. You flipped open your phone as you held the note in your hand and typed the number in.

Your thumb hovered over the call button.

“Just once,” you told yourself.

With a solidified resolve, you pressed the button. Your heart made thunder in your chest as the phone began to ring.

And ring.

You swallowed down the lump in your throat as the phone continued to ring. When the phone finally clicked, you were prepared to greet the voicemail on the other side.

Instead, you received a deep, “Hello?”

And by god, your heart completely surrendered itself to whatever being lied above. Your mind went haywire as you tried to remember the language that you had spoken your entire life. All you could do was fumble out a: “Hi.”

You cringed at the random emphasis you put on the two letter word. Perhaps you had said it too loud or said it wrong because it didn’t feel right coming from your nervous tongue.

“Hi,” he said again, mimicking your tone.

This— this had to be Hobie. Was this Hobie? You should just ask— “Is… is this Hobie? Hobie Brown?”

There was a vague hum on the other side. “Who’s askin’?”

A shaky exhale left your nose as you placed the phone between your ear and your shoulder to wipe your sweaty hands. “This is… um. This is (Y/N).” The silence that came after made you spiral.

Should you give him your last name? What if he didn’t remember you? What if this wasn’t Hobie and you were bothering some random man with the same number—

“(Y/N)?” You couldn’t read his tone. “From secondary?”

You suddenly felt emboldened as you remembered an age-old debate. “From high school. Yes, that’s me.”

“High school?” he echoed to himself. Then a loud cackle burst through your speaker. “Oh my days?! (Y/N)? That is you— with your random ways of sayin’ things.”

For once, your heart didn’t betray you and you could finally breathe. You couldn’t stop the smile that split across your face. Life moved on, but you swore you were a teenager again, twirling that cord around your finger.

“You got a lot of nerve calling me random, Hobart.”

The laughter you two shared would echo long into the dark hours of the night.

hi hi hiiiiii

hope you enjoyed ;)) i literally wrote this at work omg

#hobie brown x black!reader #hobie brown x reader #hobie brown #atsv #across the spiderverse #spider punk #writing #spider punk x reader

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babiebom · 5 months

Note

Hey! Hope you're having a great week!

I'd like to make a request about harvey and witch!reader (GN) who gifts him potions or invites him to do little rituals.(stuff like that)

This could be HCs or a little oneshot or whatever you're comfortable with!

(If that's too much, sorry/gen)

🦉-

A/N: you wanna know something funny? I wasn’t gonna announce it yet(as if anyone cares lmao) but I’m planning on doing musical inspired fics and the very first one I’m writing is about witch!reader(gender neutral) x Rasmodius! So you were literally in tune with me about the reader being a witch lmao. Also I hope you’re having a great week(and all the great weeks for forever) too!!

Tw:Witchcraft? Some stuff may be inaccurate I do not practice witchcraft at all so I am very ignorant. Cursing. A sexual mention (not bad or graphic I promise it’s just a lil jokey joke.) 1 mention of the war going on in the game.

Wc: 17 bulletpoints (i think) 0.6k for the oneshot

Sdv Masterlist

I personally think that Harvey has no experience AT ALL with witchcraft and magic or anything.

His experience is that he has watched scary movies with witches, and has seen every single episode of Charmed.

So he’s not really scared, just wary, especially since there is an actual Wizard that lives right outside of town.

So when you start becoming friends and you tell him that you’re a witch and partake in witchcraft he’s very….

I literally cannot explain without using an emoji I hope y’all can see it it’s just 😃

Like he’s literally like “hmm okay guess that’s something that’s part of my life now”because he likes you so much

If it was anyone else he would’ve been sorta like…that’s something I’m not comfy with

But with you he’s like “yeah okay I guess I can deal with this”

The first time you gift him a potion he is very confused like wtf is this for

You’re like “hehe it’s to help you have more energy🥰”

He is VERY HAPPY with how well it works and the fact that you made the potion taste GOOD

Like the medicine he sells in the clinic for energy tastes like absolute ass and he never takes it himself.

But you literally gave him a solution

Also a potion to get rid of insomnia(at least temporarily)

He is all for it especially since it’s you teaching him.

He actually allows you to sell your potions in the clinic for certain things like helping Granny Evelyn deal with her bad knees and arthritis.

Actually in love with you, and he has decided that even if you used a love potion on him he wouldn’t care at all.

The moon is slowly rising in the night sky by the time Harvey can lock up the clinic to head to your farm. He’s nervous, he has been to your place before, yes, but this is the first time you’ve invited him to be a part of a ritual that you’re doing. He doesn’t know what it is specifically, while on the phone you were very playful and vague. It takes him an hour to get to your place, he walks briskly, the wind whipping his hair around.

The closer he gets, the more his heart pounds and he feels the urge to turn back and go home. It’s not that he’s scare of you, in fact he trusts you with his life, he just is anxious about the ritual and what you have to do. His phone buzzes in his pocket the second he stops and he sees your name pop up.

Farmer: don’t you dare turn around.

i’ll turn you into a frog if you do.

okay i won’t but hurry up and get here.

He couldn’t help but smile at your words, and how you knew that he was getting cold feet. Harvey sends a reply and continues walking. This night is going to change his life, he knows it.

He knocks on your door, bouncing on his feet as he waits, too cold to just stand there. You open the door, and he is hit with the smell of what he thinks is cinnamon, and the warmth of the inside of your home. Your smile is so bright that he insults himself internally for even thinking of turning around.

“You’re here!” You grab at his arm to pull him inside, helping him take off his coat to hang it up. “I thought you would’ve changed your mind.”

“Never, not when you invited me.” You send a soft smile his way while leading him to your bedroom. He had never really been in it before, only seeing it from the living room or hallway when he’s passing by. It makes his heart thump so loudly that he fears that you can hear it.

“You ready?”

“Yeah…what kind of ritual is this?”

“A sex ritual.” He chokes on his saliva. You invited him to do a sex ritual? He thinks for a second that he doesn’t think that you were at that point yet, but he isn’t mad at it, he wouldn’t oppose it if this is really what you want to do.

“A sex ritual?”

“Yeah,” your eyes shine with mischief, “to make us super horny, totally. We’re gonna summon an incubus.”

Harvey can’t stop his eyes from widening at your words. “O…Kay?” You laugh loudly at him, doubling over and wheezing, your eyes closed in delight.

“I-“ you almost fall to the ground still laughing hard. “I’m joking! We’re doing a ritual to make sure that the beginning of next year will be good for everyone, and we’re doing a second one to protect the valley from monsters, especially with the war going on.”

He lets out a loud breath, sort of relieved but also sort of disappointed. He really did want to see you summon some sort of sex demon, it would be really funny now that he thinks about it.

Taking his hand, you grin as you pass him some ingredients. As you begin to read off how to do the ritual, he decided then and there that he has to ask you on a date, and maybe to do a ritual to make sure that the date goes well, he’d regret it if he didn’t.

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clatterbane · 4 months

Text

youtube

Alice In Chains - Rooster (From MTV Unplugged)

#Ain't found a way to kill me yet #video #alice in chains #(here comes) the rooster #1996 #mtv unplugged #live #Youtube #gen x music hour

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fuckyeahviagraboys · 1 month

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pariahfox · 8 months

Text

youtube

Hole - Credit In The Straight World (Live at The Metro, Chicago 1994)

I actually caught one date on this tour. Right up front crushed against the barrier, and that was the roughest goddamn pit I have ever been in. Which is saying something. And in a relatively small venue, at that. Lost all respect for one previously friendly acquaintance over some of his behavior in the pit that time.

But, it was quite a show. Nobody on stage was acting particularly wasted (so performing better) for that one.

#i lost a leg i lost an eye #may as well get some metaphorical mileage out of it #hole #credit in the straight world #1994 #gen x music hour #Youtube

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thursdaygxrls · 9 months

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Hello! Can I request for tasm!peter parker (maybe taking place at the school or something) where he meets the reader who has a band? Like they are always tapping their pencil and muttering songs and they become friends and he ends up going to their show?? THANK YOU!!!

ahhh i love this request!! i used to be in a band, so this is like a repressed fantasy. also, i sort of imagined this band as being rock/soft punk, i'm sorry if that wasn't the intended genre

At the Roboto

summary — gen-ed classes really suck, but a pencil tapper provides peter with a great distraction.

pairing — college!peter parker x drummer!gn!reader

disclaimer — as always, i don’t own peter (wish i did)

warnings — unedited (literally always is)

The Roboto Club was not a place Peter thought he'd ever find himself. It was small, stuffy, and definitely sticky. The walls were covered in stickers and signatures of bands who had played there (as well as patrons who'd come up with some very colorful insults). The thumping of music filled his ears as his body was jostled by those around him. As he tried to force himself to not freak out from the overstimulation, he made himself remember why he was here:

Gen-ed courses were the worst. Peter had already earned a semester’s worth of college credits in high school, but it wasn’t enough to save him from the agonizing hour and a half long lectures about the Industrial Revolution. His one saving grace had come in the form of a chewed-up number two pencil tapping against the desk next to him.

From the first day of class, he could hear it. Rhythmic pulses of the eraser followed by the staccato of the graphite. He'd glanced over, seeing the owner of the pencil lazily watching the lecture, busy clicking the utensil against the desk instead of writing. He had always assumed it was some sort of nervous tick of theirs until he paid more attention to the beat. There was a pattern to it--the thump of the eraser and the click of the graphite.

Thump. Thump-thump, click-click. Thump. Thump-thump, click-click.

It was a month into the course when he noticed that no matter how it may change, they always held a steady beat with the pencil. It was around this same time when he began hearing the humming. Peter thought he was hearing things at first from how quiet it was. It was too melodic to be an insect, so the bee-theory was ruled out quickly. When he listened in a little closer, he was able to find that the faint noise he was hearing had been coming from the Pencil-Tapper.

When deep in concentration, they had the tendency to hum under their breath. It was like they didn't even notice. They would be moving from typing out notes on their laptop to scribbling on a post-it when they'd start mumbling out a soft melody. Though it was rare, sometimes these murmured melodies would align with the beat of their pencil.

Peter had always been known to be a star student, no matter how boring a class may be, but this Pencil-Tapper was a welcome reprieve from the monotonous lecture he was subjected to twice a week. It was nothing more than innocent interest, of course. No creepy stalking or constant surveillance. Just a way to pass the time as the professor droned on.

Two months into the class, the first lecture of the week had just ended. As always, Peter and the Pencil-Tapper packed their stuff away in humdrum routine. What was different, though, was when the Tapper's pencil fell from their desk. It rolled slowly enough that it hit the ground without a sound, but, of course, Peter heard it. His breath hitched.

He had two options: grab the pencil or ignore it entirely. The kind thing to do would be to return it, but the difficult part of that would be that he would have to return it. Chewing his lip, he looked down at it. It was so small, sharpened down to half its original size. Surely, they wouldn't mind missing something like that. When he looked up, he saw them already walking away. Damn his savior complex.

"Hey," Peter called, his fingers wrapped around the end of the pencil that wasn't ridden with bite marks, "You dropped this."

"Oh, thanks," Tapper's voice came out slow as they looked down at the pencil, "Gross. Sorry about that."

"No big deal." He shook his head, handing over the utensil with a small smile. They returned the grin and turned to exit when Peter interrupted with a small cough.

"Um—" Peter, you dumb, dumb kid, you have nothing to say, why the hell are you speaking? "—So, you tap a lot."

That seemed to catch them off guard. They stopped, letting students filter out of the classroom beyond them. With a quirk of their head, they began speaking again, "I didn't realize I was that loud."

"You're not!" Peter rushed out, "No, no, I just meant that sometimes I get bored, and I sort of tune in to your tapping. Not, like, in a weird way."

"I see," they tutted, "Well, I mean, if you're interested in the pencil tapping, maybe you'd like to hear it on the drums?"

Silence fell between them. It was only for a few seconds, but it felt more like a few hours. The gears in Peter's head turned a little slower than he was used to.

"That was a stupid question, sorry," Tapper let out a sheepish chuckle.

"Not at all," Peter replied quickly, "I just realized that you must've been tapping actual songs."

"Oh, yeah," they nodded, "I'm in a band—Dial 616? We're not big or anything."

"Cool," Peter grinned, regaining a fraction of his calm.

"We have a gig this Saturday at the Roboto. It's just off campus," they explained, "You could totally come if you want. I mean, if you're interested in hearing actual music, not just tapping."

And so he came. The Robot Club was located in a skinny building wedged between a record store and a laundromat. Admission was ten dollars, and there were a few acts. The music was loud and sort of overwhelming, but he held on. Somewhere between the second and third act, he wondered why he was subjecting himself to this. He was reminded when Dial 616 was introduced.

Tapper looked a lot different from the normal sweatpants and t-shirt he'd usually seen them in. Dramatic makeup had been painted on their face that had the illusion of changing color with the flashing of the club's LEDs. Ripped jeans, chunky black boots, a tank top, and two battered drumsticks finished off their outfit. There were four other members of the band, all in equally striking clothes. The crowd around Peter whooped in recognition as they took to the stage, introducing their first song.

They played a few originals and a few covers, Peter's favorite of which being their rendition of California Über Alles. Tapper was a force on the drums. Their face was drawn in utter concentration as they slammed away. They moved from precise beats to messy patterns all without ever losing control of the tempo or their sticks.

When their set was over, they hopped from the makeshift stage, leaving the borrowed instruments there for the next band. Peter was sure it wasn't concert etiquette to immediately follow them, but his body was moving on its own accord. He threaded through the people and to the clump that formed around the band. Maybe they weren't huge yet, but there were still a lot of people bombarding them with screams and hollers of excitement. He noticed Tapper at the end of the of the band members, smiling as they signed someone's arm with a sharpie. When they were done, they looked up, and just like fate, their eyes met Peter's.

"Hey!" They greeted, their voice loud over the already booming music of the next band, "You came. I didn't think you would."

"Why wouldn't I?" He asked, unable to wipe the grin off his face.

"Well, because we only talked once. And you don't know my name, and I don't know yours," they said. Their tone held no malice or condescension, just the aftershocks of adrenaline from being on stage.

"I'm Peter." He had to yell to be heard.

"Y/n," they replied. There was another moment of standstill silence. This time, though, it wasn't awkward. It would actually be calm if not for the thunderous clash of drums behind them.

"I have to go, but, uh, we were gonna go out for pizza if you wanted to come?" Y/n suggested, their behavior suddenly coy in contrast with their appearance.

"Yeah—okay," Peter grinned. They offered him one last smile before disappearing with the rest of the band. Gen-ed actually wasn't that bad after all.

a/n — me 🤝 making up nicknames for the reader

taglist

@reidslovely @iamliterallyspidergwen

#peter parker x reader #tasm!peter parker x reader #peter parker x y/n #peter parker #tasm!peter parker x y/n #tasm!peter imagine #tasm!peter parker x you #tasm! peter parker #tasm peter parker #thursday writes

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lalalikecrazy · 9 months

Text

The stars in her eyes reflected in yours

(G)I-DLE alien!Minnie x gn!reader

fluff, classmates to friends to lovers, sfw, wordcount:1.8k

The new girl in your college class is like out-of-this-world beautiful. As your friendship with her develops into something more, you discover that home can be a person rather than a place. While you don’t know everything about her, Minnie means the world to you, and she feels the exact same way

notes: reader is gender nuetral but refered to as pretty; reader is also a lil bit awkward lol; inspired by Paradise by (G)I-DLE and their new I Do music video; please enjoy!! ✰★

Minnie was beautiful. Like really, truly, otherworldly beautiful. She was gorgeous enough to stand out in a sea of people at your huge university. You still remember the first time you saw her, in the lecture hall for your gen-ed math course with over 100 other students.

You didn’t have to wait long to find out. The next time the class met, you arrived early, like usual for you. This time, the mysterious new girl did, too. As she walked towards you, your heart began to beat faster. What would be worse– if she sat next to you and you had to think of something to say, or if she didn’t and you never got a chance to say anything at all?

One day, she just appeared. Close to the start of the semester, but not close enough for people to still be adding the class. You swore that you would have noticed her if you had seen her before.

For the next hour and a half of that class session, you snuck glances at her, wondering where she came from, what her name was, and if you’d ever get the chance to speak to her.

“Hello,” She said, sliding into the seat next to you, a friendly smile on her lips.

“Hi… Are you new to this class?” You said, feeling your face heat.

This close, you could see her better than last time. Her hair was split dyed, half of her wispy bangs a midnight black, the other a near-impossible silver. Despite the unnatural color, you noticed it looked soft, as if she had been born with it like that.

You could also see some rhinestones on her face, twinkling under the light. The little gems accentuated her wide eyes, her smile, which now seemed to contain some humor. As if you’d been staring at her for too long… Had you been?

“Yes, I’m new… I’m not from around here.” She leaned in closer to you as she said this, as if it were a secret, despite the information being completely mundane.

You nodded, telling her your name, “Welcome to Intro to Algebra,” You added.

Welcome to Intro to Algebra!? Who says that? You thought to yourself. But she nodded graciously, laughed a little, and told you her name was Minnie.

Then, just before class started, she tested your name again, “Y/N? It's pretty. It suits you.”

And in that moment you knew that it was love at first sight. Or at least, love at first awkward conversation.

✰★

That was at the start of the semester. Now, Fall was nearly over, and soon it would start to snow. Since that day, you had sat next to Minnie every day in math. Sometimes, the two of you studied together afterwords. She helped you with Algebra, she had this way of solving the problems that you had never seen before, completely different from what the teacher instructed, but it worked. You tried to help her with history, but along the way, you had become her pop-culture teacher instead.

It all started when you mentioned offhandedly your favorite rom-com, which she had never seen. You invited her to watch it at your dorm, and steadily developed the habit of inviting her over to watch anything from your most beloved classics to your latest drama obsessions. Each of them were completely new for her, and you liked to tease that she must had never seen any movie before at all.

During your movie nights, the two of you would cuddle on the couch, watching the screen intensely. You loved how invested she got in every film, how she laughed at the same moments you did, how she held your hand tighter during the really heart-wrenching scenes.

During one movie marathon, you looked over at her as the movie played, something you had done often– but this time, there were tears in her eyes.

“Hey, are you okay?” You nudged her softly, concerned, “Why are you crying?”

“Because! It's sad!” But she was laughing, wiping away her tears.

“But I told you this one has a happy ending!”

“And I told you to stop spoiling the endings! Besides, aren’t you crying, too?

“What?” You said, surprised she had noticed the slight tears welling in your eyes. You’d seen the movie a thousand times before, but a sad scene was still a sad scene. “No way…”

You turned back to the screen, but Minnie was still looking at you. Had you still been looking back at her, you might have noticed that her teasing grin had softened into something warm and fond.

She hummed, “Your eyes– it looks like they have stars in them.”

“That’s just the T.V. glow…”

“And the tears,” she added, and you scoffed.

But as she returned her focus to the movie still playing, Minnie rested her head on your shoulder, closer to you than before. You hoped, in that moment, that all the stars in your eyes could hide the flush in your cheeks, the way you were now suddenly aware that her hand had been holding yours the entire time.

✰★

Minnie was a fast learner. She had far outpaced your math course since the start. She had taken up reading history books in her free time, and now she could practically teach you, instead of the other way around. She joined the art and writing clubs and was steadily building skills in each.

Minnie had learned you, too. All your little habits. She knew your favorite drink, and somehow always showed up with one from the vending machine when you were having a bad day. She could somehow always catch you when you stared at her, meeting your eye when you had been just about to look away.

She had a way with words, too, really. You couldn’t explain it, but she always knew what to say. She knew what kind of compliments to give you, the genuine, well-thought-out kind that anyone would treasure. And she knew how to comfort you, whether it was a joke or some reassurance, or usually, from her, a healthy mixture of both.

But the most remarkable thing that she had learned was the ability to sing. When you told her that her voice was like the perfect dessert– a tiramisu, maybe– she almost died laughing before asking what you meant. But the metaphor made perfect sense to you. Minnie’s voice was warm and comforting. But it was strong and powerful, too. It wasn’t too light, it was substantial. It wasn’t too heavy either, but it could be rich. It wasn’t too sweet and it wasn’t too bitter.

With her voice, Minnie could convey any emotion beautifully. You often thought that every movie you’d ever seen would have become an instant masterpiece if only Minnie’s singing was the soundtrack.

“Hey, Y/N?” Minnie turned to you as your math class ended. The students around you swarmed out the doors and towards the library– it was finals season, after all, “Are you doing something after class?”

“Studying.” You said decisively, thinking about your exams. “Ah, do you wanna study together?”

“Do you have time to hear a song first? A song I wrote?”

This was the first time you had heard of her writing her own songs. Suddenly, all thoughts of studying vanished.

“Of course,” you said. “Let’s go.”

She grabbed your hand, and the two of you practically ran out of the stuffy lecture hall. Minnie led you out of that building and towards the music one, where the private practice rooms were. She flung open the door to a small room with a keyboard.

Sitting there in front of the keys, backlit by sunlight streaming through the window, she looked like she belonged there. The gemstones under her eyes glinted as she smiled up at you, one of the biggest smiles you’d ever seen on Minnie before.

“Ready?” Minnie asked.

“No. Yes.” You laughed, “Why am I the nervous one?”

“No idea. It's cute, though.”

With that– leaving your eyes widened and heart beating somehow even faster– she began to play the first notes.

“I’ll be landing on your mind…” She began to sing.

And her voice transported you to another world. The melody was celestial, the voice singing was heavenly. And the words? The words were so vulnerable– you couldn’t imagine that Minnie had written them, but you also would never believe that anyone else could have.

As the song ended, you returned to earth, meeting Minnie’s expectant eyes, the slight flush on her cheeks.

“So?” Minnie asked, “What did you think?”

“... It was perfect.” You started. So perfect, you were at a loss for words. “It was beautiful. Amazing. I mean, you–”

Minnie stood from the bench, never looking away from your reaction. “You inspired it, you know… You inspire me,” She said.

“I do?”

She nodded. When you looked at her, you could tell: the moon and the stars that she saw in your eyes were reflected in hers. You almost couldn’t bear it, the look you were sharing, the words to her song still echoing in your head, in your heart.

You looked away first, focusing on the window behind her.

“H-hey, it's snowing,” You realized, “Its the first snow–”

The two of you rushed to the window, watching the light snow starting to fall from the still sun-filled sky, the people below starting to rush outside to play.

“Wow,” Minnie breathed beside you.

“That song…” You said, “It was really special. I don’t know how to describe it, it was so you… I think I could listen to your voice forever…” You trailed off, suddenly shy, laughing a little at your own words.

“Y/N, this is my first time seeing snow like this. And I’m really happy I’m seeing it with you. My home is so far away… but I feel like home with you. Thats why I wrote the song.”

“Oh. I feel like home with you, too, Minnie. Always.” You said.

“...You know, where I’m from, it snows diamonds,” Minnie said, and you could hear the grin in her voice as you watched the snow.

“Oh really?” You laughed, this time, genuinely. “One day you’ll tell me what it's actually like where you’re from, right?”

“I promise,” And she was laughing, too, a sound as melodic as her music, “But you might not believe me.”

There, standing by the window of the practice room, you realized that you had grabbed Minnie’s hand. At this point it was like second nature for you. To reach for her like it was an instinct but to hold onto her like it was a choice. And you never wanted to let go.

Minnie was beautiful, mysterious, otherworldly. But she was so much more than that. Funny, kind, passionate… genuine. She was yours. And you were hers. You turned to her as she continued watching the snow and made a silent vow to make sure she knew that someday. The same way that she had used her song to tell you.

✰★

#gidle x reader #(g)i-dle x reader #minnie x reader #gidle minnie x reader #gidle fluff #minnie fluff

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hederasgarden · 2 years

Text

Sometimes All I Need Is You

Summary: Hangman and Rooster comfort you after a difficult day. Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Civilian!F!Reader x Jake "Hangman" Seresin W/C: 1.6K Rating: Gen. Angst, brief reference to the death of a parent, depression and lots of Hangman/Rooster comforting the reader. A/N: Thank you @mayhem24-7forever, @green-socks ad @whatblogisthis216 for looking this over!

By the time Jake makes it home, he’s exhausted, looking for a cold beer and the chance to lose himself in you. Rooster won’t be home for a few more hours – Thursday nights are reserved for his weekly beers with Mav. Jake intends to make the most of a Rooster-free evening, hopeful he can convince you to slip into the lingerie he bought for you last weekend.

“Sweetheart?” He calls out.

The house is eerily quiet as he moves through it. By now you were usually cooking dinner and listening to music loud enough that he could hear it from the porch. He knows you’re home as your car is in the driveway and he saw your purse on the couch when he first came in. The office and spare bedrooms are empty. When he makes it to the room the three of you share, the lights are off but he can make a distinct you-shaped lump under the covers.

He whispers your name but all he gets in response is a sniffle and a little pained sigh. Something’s wrong. Jake sits on the bed and touches your shoulder, gently pushing against it until you roll onto your back and blink up at him. Your eyes are puffy and there are dried tear tracks on your cheek.

“Sweetheart…”

“What time is it?” You ask sleepily. “I’m sorry, I can get started on dinner.”

You try to sit up but Jake stops you with a firm hand. You won’t look him in the eye and that worries him. Out of the three of them, you were the freest with your emotions and affections. It’s not like you to hide something.

“What’s going on?”

“I’m just tired,” you promise, giving a poor approximation of your normally sweet smile.

Jake wishes Rooster was home – the other pilot was annoyingly better with emotional things, knowing just what to say to you. Jake preferred to fuck the feelings out of you, not talk about them. Sometimes you just needed him to make you breathless and needy until you forgot everything but his cock. Today is not one of those times and he’s not exactly sure what to do without his wingman to assist.

“Talk to me,” he urges, holding your face.

Your eyes slide closed at his touch. There’s a slight tremor in your lower lip, his only warning before you’re crying softly again. You crumple into his chest, burying your face against the side of his throat. Alarmed, Jake holds you tightly, rubbing his hands up and down your back as you cry yourself out against him. The little broken hiccups kill him. He wants to do something but he still has no idea what’s going on.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, pulling away so he can look down at you.

“My dad,” you start, squeezing your eyes shut as you fight not to start crying again. Jake’s heart sinks at those two words. “I thought I was doing okay, but I guess it just hit me again today.”

“Darlin…”

“It’s okay, I just needed a good cry I think,” you tell him, already minimizing your feelings. It’s something he and Rooster had to watch out for early in their relationship. Your need to put others first was admirable, but Jake was determined to teach you to be more selfish like him. You sit up fully and wipe away the wetness on your cheeks with the back of your hand. “I should probably get started on dinner.”

“How about a nice bath? After that I can start on dinner,” he offers, squeezing your shoulder.

You look at him doubtfully and Jake sighs.

“What? I almost burn the house down once and suddenly all the trust is gone?” He questions, looking put out enough to make you giggle. “I’ll order us something. Come on,” he encourages, pulling you to your feet.

He wraps an arm around your shoulder and leads you to the bathroom. The lid of the toilet is already down and he corrals you to sit there while he kneels on the floor to start the water for the bath. He tests the temperature with the back of his hand, waiting until it’s hot enough to turn his skin red. How you stood that kind of heat, he’d never understand. Jake rummages through the bathroom closet, looking for the bath salts Rooster got you for Christmas last year. Lavender and camomile sounded like it would be calming. He dumps the entire packet in the tub and looks over his shoulder at you. You’re staring straight ahead with a blank look on your face that makes his heart ache.

“Let’s get you undressed,” he says, helping you step out of your clothes.

You rest your hands on his shoulders to steady yourself while he pulls down your sleep shorts. Normally the sight of your naked skin and all those soft curves is enough to make him half hard but it’s difficult to feel anything but worry when he looks up at your face and sees that far off expression. You step into the deep tub with his encouragement, sinking beneath the surface until only your head is above water. Jake kisses your brow before leaving. As soon as the door’s shut he calls Rooster. The other man picks up on the third ring, the familiar sounds of yelling and cheering letting him know they’re at the Hard Deck.

“You need to come home,” Jake says, not bothering with any pleasantries.

“Need my help already?” Rooster asks. “Don’t worry, I’ll be home in a few hours to give her what you clearly can't."

“No dipshit. It’s her dad.”

“Fuck. How bad is it?" He asks.

"Well I’m calling you. Take a guess," Jake says.

"I’ll be there in 10,” Rooster responds.

Jake orders dinner and then paces the length of the living room until Rooster arrives.

“Where is she?” The other man asks.

“I drew her a bath.”

“And you just left there? Alone?” Rooster accuses, brushing past him hurriedly to the bedroom. “What the fuck man.”

“I needed to order dinner and call your ass home,” Jake defends, following after him.

By the time he makes it into the bathroom Rooster is already stripping out of his clothes, talking to you in that soft tone of voice he drops into any time you’re upset. Water wells up over the edge of the old claw foot tub when he steps in and slots his body behind yours. You turn into his embrace. Rooster wraps his arms tightly around your middle and presses his lips to your neck. Jake knows from the tense look on your face you’re fighting not to cry. He hates how fucking helpless he feels standing there.

“Sit down,” Rooster snaps. “Stop hovering.”

“Well, all three of us can't fit in there,” Jake mutters.

He doesn’t appreciate Rooster’s tone but he also recognizes the other man feels just as helpless as he does and an argument right now won’t do any good. Jake swallows his frustration and sinks to his knees, ignoring the way the water soaks into his jeans. He takes your face in both hands and kisses you, rubbing his nose softly against yours while whispering how much he loves you.

“What do you need us to do?” Rooster questions.

“I don’t know,” you admit.

“Let’s just sit here for a while,” Rooster suggests. “The bath’s nice, right?”

It’s uncomfortable kneeling on the tile but Jake wants to be close by. You nod, eyes closing. A few moments pass and Rooster lays his hand over the one Jake rests on the edge of the tub. Looking up, he meets Rooster’s concerned gaze, the other man’s brown eyes reflecting back the vulnerability and concern they both feel. It's a wordless apology that Jake accepts by turning his palm up to lace their fingers together. Neither of them speak but they watch you, the shallow rise and fall of your chest. They let you rest until the water turns tepid before helping you out and drying you off. Rooster wraps a towel around his waist and for just a second Jake lets himself get distracted by all the tanned skin and toned abs on display before he shakes it off and heads into the bedroom.

There he digs through your dresser, pulling out some underwear, your favorite pair of leggings and a loose top. He works with Rooster to dress you, kneeling at your feet to encourage you to step into the clothes. He tugs them up your legs, rubbing his thumbs over your hips and pressing a kiss to the back of your neck. Once your shirt is on, Jake leads you to the couch and leaves Rooster to dress himself.

The food arrives shortly after but neither of them can convince you to eat. All you want to do is curl up on the couch with them, which they’re more than happy to do. He wants you close, where he can touch you and anchor himself to your body. Your head rests on his chest and Rooster rubs your feet while the three of you watch something mindless on TV. Jake presses a kiss into the side of your neck and you sigh quietly.

After a few minutes you finally seem to relax, even letting a quiet giggle slip out in response to the show you’re watching. Jake looks up, catching Rooster’s gaze. The other man smiles and Jake happily returns it, both a little relieved to see something of their girl back. He already knows without asking they’ll both be calling in sick tomorrow. Rooster likely already has a plan to keep you busy and lift your spirits and for once, Jake will be happy to let him take the lead.

He’ll criticize the other man’s choices of course, after all, he can’t let Rooster get any ideas.

♡

I no longer have a tag list, please follow @hg-library and turn on notifications.

#hangman x reader #rooster x reader x hangman #rooster x reader #hangman x you #rooster x you #bradley bradshaw x reader #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin x you #jake seresin x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw #top gun maverick fanfiction #top gun fanfiction

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laurusik · 11 months

Text

,, SHOW ME YOU'RE SHAMELESS,,

Neteyam x navi-fem reader

WARNINGS : smut, p in v, Dom!Neteyam, breeding kink, possesivnes, dirty talk, hair pulling, choking /hope I didn't forget anything

Also this is my first ever story let alone smut I've tried my best but English is not my first language :3 hopefully it's at least readable

SUMARRY: There is an old tradition in the na'vi culture when a man in order to mate with a woman has to hunt her down

(I saw it somewhere here on Tumblr but couldn't find the autor rn)

Neteyam absolutely stunning by @cinetrix <33

SIDE NOTE: I would advise you to listen to Camila Cabello shameless or animals by Maroon 5 when reading this;)

Requests are open so...

There are inches in between us I want you to give in

"Run" the word that he uttered was now roaming around every corner or your skull as your feet were hitting the ground. Your lungs expanding more and more with each breath you took. It was like you're running for your life. Maybe you were, maybe not, it almost seemed that you wanted to get caught. You were craving the things he will do once he catches you.

All you could focus on was the echo of your light footsteps and heavy breathing. Screeching sounds were coming from above. You just happened to brush a leaf out of your face as you looked back and saw him tracing directly behind you.

"Can't run from me forever love" he giggled at your efforts, your legs were certainly much shorter well of course he was a warrior this was like nothing for him.

Completely out of your breath you could taste the metallic taste of blood in your mouth and your legs were slowly giving out.

On the other hand Neteyam was getting impatient like a predator hunting it's pray. He wanted to hunt you down and eat you alive.He could smell you no he could feel you. With every breath he took he filled his lungs with your pheromones.

You couldn't run any longer this has been going on for an hour already, just as you slowed down you felt a harsh tug at your hair. Your body hit the floor and your head hurt from the impact with the mossy ground.

,, Got ya,, you frowned and look up at Neteyam having the most sadistic grin on his face, his pupils completely dialeted leaving only a tiny yellow ring behind.

"Right you caught me but this wasn't even fair!" you locked your arms around your chest as you were trying to process what happened.

"No my love, you were the one who wanted to do this" he laughed as he pulled you up from the ground. His appearance was quickly changing from the soft Neteyam who would never hurt to this animal who's only goal was to devour you whole.

Neteyam took quick strides towards you. With every step he took forward you stepped one away. Your bare back hit a tree trunk it's rough bark scratching the sensitive skin

. "N-neteyam" you stuttered as his hot breath was fanning right across your face. "Hmmmm" he looked completely delusional high off your pheromones and so were you of his. His prominent musky smell making you crave every inch of him.

" Nete p-lease" "Please what?" he hummed "Use your words princess". He slid his strong arms to your thighs with a gentle pat signalizing you to jump.

"Please what!" he growled "don't let me fucking repeat myself" He was not willing to give you the attention you so much craved until you asked for it.

His hand came up to your neck gripping your throat, all that you let out was a hoarse cry "Ngh Please touch me Teyam" a deep growl rumbled his chest at your words. He released his tight grip on your neck as he slowly kissed his way up to your ear gently licking the shell "good girl" his praises were like music to your ears making you hotter by the second.

He move his kisses to your neck and roamed his hands all over your body making you whimper and beg for more. His touches were so light and lingering everywhere just not where you wanted them the most.

"Tease" you huffed grabbing his jaw and kissing him hardly with brushing force. He chuckled kissing you back. You gently tugged at the base of his kuru, he stopped for a moment to look you in the eyes "Are you sure you wanna be stuck with me forever?" "Fuck yes"

Neteyam smiled and took your kuru from behind your back looking into your your eyes as you nodded he gently pulled them together. As the purplish glowing tendrils interwived together you felt all of him all of his desire to breed you and have you bear his child, his deep love for you and he did the same.

The feeling so overwhelming your hearts very beating so fast you could feel the thumping under your skin. It was like the oceans mixing together, it was like the perfect fit. You were made for each other and now you were just his and he yours.

All you wanted to do was touch every inch of his body to calm the overwhelming sensation of everything swirling inside you.

"You want it do you?" he asked in between kisses. All you could do was let out a pathetic whine and arch your back into him almost lifting it of the tree fully.

"I-I want you inside me " you finally choked out the words he was dying to hear so long his hand slowly reaching your loincloth and and rubbing gentle circles on your thighs inching closer and closer to your wet core.

His touch was like a burning hot iron making you whirl under him closing your thighs on him "Keep them fucking open if you don't want me to stop" he growled so deeply it send vibrations thru out your entire body. He forcefully opened up your thighs holding them with do much force they will definitely leave bruises.

He started rubbing slow tight circles into your clothed clit making you squirm and your whimpers turn louder.

"God yes Teyam please ngh" you were clawing at his back leaving creasant shaped marks or your nails behind

His fingers slowly picking up the pace making you scream his name "Come on come for me I know you can do it be a good girl for me"

His words were setting your body ablaze you could feel that familiar knot tightening in your stomach

"Ah NTEYAM ! "all you could do was pathetically scream his name his words driving you closer to your finish making the coil snap

"I-I'm cumming nghh" you threw your hands around his shoulders squirting all over his lower abdomen

"Shh that's it good fucking girl" His hands snaked around your back ripping your loincloth in half and throwing the unusable scraps of cloth to the ground. He did the same with his revealing his hard cock jumping at the rate of his heartbeat making you gulp. "You want this do you" he said lowly kissing your neck. You only nodded

"Let me hear you say it" he hummed slowly stroking his length

"Yes-s please I need it so bad Teyam" those words only coming out like a choked mess making him feral.

He circled your enterace with his angry red tip twitching begging to feel you around him.

He latched onto the delicate skin of your neck piercing the skin with his fangs drawing blood. You whimpered the sensation so overwhelming you could see stars. He gently come off with a pop and licked of the tiny drop of blood falling from the fresh wound.

He looked at you thru lidded eyes staring right thru out your entire being making you dizzy his predatory gaze watching you intently as you squirmed in his grasp.

He suddenly plunged into you won't no warning making you gasp. He gave you no time to adjust to his girthy cock thrusting into you at a fast pace making your eyes roll into the back of your head.

"Look at my sweet girl, taking my cock so well. Gonna breed you hm? Fill you up-shit! Fill you up with my cum, pretty girl"

Your heat clenches erratically on his length his words only adding up to the pleasure owerflowing your entire being.

"Oh, I felt that y/n." he laughs mockingly "You want me to fill you up with my cum till your all round with my child?" His words are excentuated with a hard thrust.

"Yes, yes want you" you blabber nonsensically. Your core insanely tight the coil about to snap at any moment his words only drawing you closer.

"N-nete I'm gonna cum" your words hardly coming up do to your throat being so dry "Come on baby, do it come on my cock"

His words like a sharp tug getting you over the edge as you come all over yourself and his abs only stuttering out nonsense coming out of your mouth.

With a few more thrusts his hips come to a halt as you feel his seed pooling into your empty vomb making you feel euphoric. He rides out both of your orgasm and pulls out throwing your leg over his shoulder

"Look at this, a fucking masterpiece" he darkly chuckles as he plunges the excess seed leaking out of you back in. "My personal cum dump".

Ehm I'm not even sure how I did with this but definitely tell me your opinion on this. I felt like the ending was a bit rushed I will try to work on that

Also there si probably gonna be a lot of grammatical errors cuz I'm a lazy bish so I didn't proof read

Neteyam is just fine af

#atwow neteyam #neteyam smut #neteyam sully smut #neteyam x female reader #neteyam x you #neteyam x reader smut #neteyam x y/n #neteyam #atwow imagines #atwow x y/n #atwow fanfiction #avatar #atwow x reader #atwow fics #atwow smut #atwow headcanons #atwow fluff #neteyam x reader

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aspecriddler · 11 months

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THEE Guide to Not Being a Punk Poser

Hey, so if you're reading this, you may or may not be looking to get into the punk scene, and you also may or may not be at a total loss on where to start

Well fear not! I am here with this little introduction post on how to Not Be A Poser (title pending)

FIRST UP: The Ideals

When it comes to the ideals of alternative subcultures, this graphic by @theygender (hope the tag is ok, lmk if it isn't) is the best summary I've ever seen

And if you're like me, you're solidly on the line between punk and grunge, but leaning just a bit more punk. This is fine /gen

Punk is about community. Punk is about fighting for a better future. Punk is about doing no harm and taking no shit. Punk is about looking out for the underdog. If you don't embody these values then you're not punk. The ideology of Punk is, in my opinion, the most important part of the subculture

But if you've been doing your research you already knew that. Now let's get into what a lot of people call the fun stuff: the music and the fashion

SECOND: The Music

There are a Lot of different subgenres of punk music, the most famous being punk rock and folk punk. I subscribe more to punk rock because I really enjoy fast music

Bands to look for include: Sex Pistols, Dead Kennedys, Pansy Division, Dog Park Dissidents, Cheap Perfume, Mommy Long Legs, Gang Green, The Germs, Rage Against the Machine, G.L.O.S.S., X-Ray Spex, The Cramps, Circle Jerks, Crass, Limp Wrist, and Pure Hell

Of course there's a lot more but those are some staples plus some of my personal favorites. You can find my personal punk playlist here

Overall the sound is Loud and it is Angry. There are many songs about killing cops and hating capitalism and it fucks. If you like funky basslines, sick ass drums, angry yelling, and shredding guitars this music is for you

PART THREE: The Fashion

Okay, okay, I had to save the quote unquote best for last. Imo the fashion of punk is the most diy out of almost any other subculture

Literally anything you can get your hands on can become fashion. Steal what you can, pick up shit off the side of the road, and if you can't/don't know how to do something get a friend in the scene to either teach you or commission them or something

Brands? The fuck is that, the only brands you need to know are Rit fabric dye, goodwill, etsy (sometimes), your local craft store, and a good spike maker (I don't deal with spikes currently so I have no good resources for them, so other punks feel free to chime in!)

Want cool metal shit? Take apart cans and turn them into spikes. Take a lighter apart and use those metal bits. Steal safety pins from walmart.

Want/need to sew something? Yarn and a tapestry needle if you can't get/don't want to use dental floss. When sewing patches do a straight stitch around followed by a hobo stitch around again and that shit will stay forever. Alternatively pin patches on with safety pins, this works pretty well in a pinch

Fabric paint is your best friend!!! Start with a white base layer and the colors will be much more vibrant. Don't think you have painting skills? Doesn't matter, you're punk and you have the audacity to wear whatever you make with pride

Invest in a leather jacket. I don't mean in terms of money, I got mine at goodwill for ten bucks. But it will change your life. I recommend getting two: one to keep plain and one to diy. Also flannels are good for diy and can also be made into vests for warm weather very easily.

Both of these flannels I decorated myself in a matter of hours. If I can do it, so can you

Also! When you cut the sleeves off of a flannel you can use the extra fabric to make diy pockets :3

PART FOUR: Community and Conclusion

So this is kind of my close out section lol

I'm not sure what kind of discord communities exist for true punk culture, so if anyone has one they wanna promote feel free

Do some research on local punk bands in your area, get your friends together and diy outfits for a concert, or just to wear. The world is your punk oyster, and as long as you or other people aren't getting hurt you can do whatever you want forever

Plz use this post to find other punks so we can start gaining more community (I'm totally not desperate lol)

#punk

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99corentine · 3 months

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How To Write Good by Corentine

THE DRAFTING PROCESS, PART 1/2

Hello, people were interested in some writing tips by me so I, uh, sort of kind of cranked out a writing guide in a few hours. I’m not sure if this will be a very comprehensive or helpful guide but let’s give it a try!

⭐ Starting disclaimers: Please remember as with all things that my method is not necessarily the best method, everyone is different and over time you’ll find your own process.

I write romance, so my advice is skewed towards writing that and I’m not sure how helpful it will be for gen fic. I publish fanfic chapter by chapter to AO3 so it’s also skewed to someone doing the same, not someone writing a full novel they want to get published.

I’m going to be using GOL HAH DOV (GHD) for writing examples because, well, it’s a (almost-)finished longfic so it’s as good a reference as any, but obviously GHD is not everyone’s cup of tea. I’ll also occasionally reference Tooth for a Tooth (T4T) which apologies is very far from finished, but the Baldur’s Gate 3 fandom is vastly different to the Skyrim one, so it’s useful to cross-compare them.

Also worth bearing in mind: I have been writing fanfiction since I was about 13, and I’m now 33. That’s 20 years of experience. Do you know what I wrote when I was 13? Hot garbage. Writing is a learned skill that, much like playing a musical instrument or learning literally any other craft, you must put time and effort into to improve.

However although ‘practice makes perfect’ is fundamentally true, that’s also kind of lame advice. So here is what I personally do, which may be helpful in figuring out what you want to do.

STEP ONE: YOU NEED AN IDEA FIRST DUMMY

Think of a fic idea. Probably you have lots of vague ideas. As I’m trying to turn something from a daydream into an actual writing project, I tend to ask myself these questions:

⭐Who is it about?⭐

Pick your pairing, romantic or otherwise. Think about what you like about the character and what traits you want to emphasise in your writing. If you’re writing about fan character x fan character, what makes them go well together? What causes tension between them?

If you’re writing fan character x original character, do remember that your readers are here for the fan character, not for your OC. There is no getting around this, your OC is not what brings people to the fic. GHD’s Chrysanthe was largely intended as a blank slate, quite literally, I made him an amnesiac because the point of the story was Miraak not Chrysanthe.

Over time I was able to shape him into something more distinctive (softly-spoken, stoic, paladin-like, secret tricksy side only Miraak brings out, gets more dragon-like as the story progresses) but that was a gradual thing. Your readers will hopefully come to love your OC as you do, but it takes time for them to get invested. I’m very grateful that people did come to root for Chrysanthe – but make no mistake, if the story had no Miraak in it, people wouldn’t be reading it. Your OC is always a vehicle for the fan character.

⭐What are the overarching themes of the story?⭐

A cohesive story has a theme that repeats throughout, and picking one early on will let you write with that theme in mind. As an example, the themes of GHD are:

Soulmates / we were destined to meet each other

There’s no-one else like me / you and I are the only real ones here

One’s a hero one’s a villain

Zero to hero / hero becomes progressively more badass

Redemption arc but the villain is never fully redeemed – for GHD this turned into the repetition of Miraak’s theme he’ll never be pure but for you he’ll try and later Chrysanthe’s I love you exactly as you are

Your own themes might be something like best friends who don’t realise they’ve been in love this whole time or can’t live with you can’t live without you. Tropes count towards this too, so something like soulmates, Modern Coffee Shop AU, hanahaki, all of that stuff is a story theme.

⭐What does this fic do that other fics like it don’t?⭐

GOL HAH DOV was sort of easy mode in this regard because there aren’t many fics featuring Miraak at all, so writing anything was already doing something different. Of those existing fics, I wanted to see more where Miraak was evil and scary, and you should be the change you want to see in the world (of fanfic), so I decided to write it myself. I get a lot of comments on Miraak’s personality, so I assume this is mostly what makes GHD stand out!

I’ll use T4T as a contrasting example, because Skyrim is old and Miraak is niche, but Baldur’s Gate 3 is new/popular and Astarion is a fan favourite. That means there’s a veritable sea of fic about him, so what can you write that will stand out from the many, many other fics out there? It doesn’t have to be the only one of its kind or anything, but it does need to have some special about it.

You’ll want to either go for a strong theme or trope (i.e. soulmates, magical spell curse, we’re both monsters), or change the setting (canon divergence, ‘what if X happened instead?’, or even outright alternate universe and a brand new plot). Personally, I choose to follow the source material but go off-script. I gotta say, nothing makes me sadder than seeing plot and dialogue lifted straight from a game with zero changes made to it. That’s a personal preference obviously, but I think if you write a fic it should strive to do something different to the rest.

⭐Do I have enough enthusiasm to finish it?⭐

This is more applicable to longfic, but you really need to be in love with a story to see it through to the end. Be realistic with yourself, how much free time and energy you have – if you start it, do you think you can finish it?

I have a whole planning process (detailed later) and sometimes I start planning out an idea just to realise I don’t really have the enthusiasm to actually write the whole thing. This is fine! Even just planning is still a writing exercise, and it might spark some different ideas.

Once you have your idea, and you’re confident you’re going to actually write it… then for the love of all that is holy, do not share it in detail with anyone. You can pitch an idea to see if people will be interested but if you go into specifics about story events or certain scenes? You basically get the endorphins from having ‘created’ it, only you haven’t actually created it, and now you’ve had the chemical pay-off you probably never will. Keep your ideas to yourself until you’ve actually written them.

STEP TWO: WRITE THAT DOWN

In terms of writing software, I use Scrivener, which is a paid-for software but is not subscription based (I wouldn’t pay continually for software unless I was reliably writing every day, and sometimes I go ages without being in the mood to write). Scriv’s word processor isn’t the most intuitive thing, but I like its organisation features. This is what a work in progress looks like for me:

That’s essentially a folder (the story) containing a bunch of word documents (the chapters). You could break it down even further and have a chapter folder with each document being individual scenes, then stitch it together later - if writing is a daunting process for you, it’s useful to break it down into small, manageable chunks. You can do this in other software obviously, I just find Scrivener the most visually pleasing.

Set up your writing document, and let’s get to planning what we’re actually going to write!

...Apparently tumblr has a word limit I've exceeded, so I'll write the next bit separately. Here's PART TWO.

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