Masterlist Hi I am Nat. I am 24 years old pansexual that love writing. Requests are open I am just busy with work. So please be patient. Love you all 😊🏳️🌈
Please before sending a requests read Rules and guidelines. Make sure to follow them so your request can be done. Thank you. Now feel free to enjoy.
Split
Dennis
Clean one (woman x man)
Dennis and Barry jealous HC (woman x man)
Dennis and Barry HC - SO wants a baby (woman x man)
Kevin
This is your safe place (woman x man)
Chicago PD
Jay Halstead
Not a replacement (woman x man)
The Mortal Instruments
Jace Wayland
An oath to die by (woman x man)
Alec Lightwood
Isabella Lightwood
Simon Lewis
Magnus Bane
Sebastian Morgenstern
Twilight saga
Aro Volturi
My heart (woman x man)
Alice Cullen
No longer part of that family (transgender x woman)
Carmen and Eleazar
We love you the way you are perfect (woman x man x woman)
Paul Lahote
Death of the imprint (woman x man)
Hard to accept (woman x man)
Problematic imprint Part 2 (woman x man)
Supernatural
Cast
Richard Speight jr.
Love on the set (woman x man)
Characters
Winchesters - brothers
My own way in the world (sister!woman x Brother!man)
Crowley
He is changing (woman x man)
Walking dead
Daryl Dixon
Time we spend together (woman x man)
Count Dracula
Safe and finally home (woman x man)
American Horror Story
Jimmy Daling
Blind yet she saw the most (woman x man)
Xavier Plympton
We stay together (woman x man)
The Originals
Klaus Mikaelson
Twins' love (twins - woman x man)
Hybrids' love (Woman x man)
Rebekah Mikaelson
Witch in the sheet (woman x woman)
Lucien Castle
Art gallery (woman x man)
Tristan de Martel
A threat (woman x man)
Vincent Griffith
Bloodsucker (woman x man)
The Vampire Diaries
Kai Parker
Reunion with soulmate (woman x man)
Lorenzo St. John
Damon Salvatore
Stefan Salvatore
Jeremy Gilbert
Tyler Lockwood
X Men
Charles Xavier - Professor X
Let me heal you (woman x man)
The Hobbit trilogy
Thranduil
Legolas
Tauriel
Elrond
Thorin
Kili
Bard
Youtube
Markiplier
Jacksepticeye
Brennen Taylor
My dog run away (woman x man)
Kian Lawley
I just need you to rest a little (woman x man)
Dream smp
Dream
George
Sapnap
Punz
The Eret
Motionless in white
Chris Cerulli Motionless
Free time before tour - Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 (woman x man)
Black Veil Brides
One Direction
5 Seconds Of Summer
Michael Clifford
After break up care (woman x man)
Luke Hemmings
Calum Hood
Ashton Irwin
I will teach you if you want me to (woman x man)
WWE
Alexa Bliss
They don't know you are mine (woman x woman)
Sasha Banks
My hero (woman x woman)
Sonya Deville
Ruby Riott
Liv Morgan
Jeff Hardy
Pick your team (woman x man)
Roman Reigns
Seth Rollins
Sheamus
Cesaro
It will feel like eternity but I will be there with you (woman x man)
Undisputed era - all members
Braun Strowman
NXT
Rhea Ripley
More than a tag team win (woman x woman)
UFC
Conor Mcgregor
Buss attack (woman x man)
After the fight (woman x man) - part 2 for Buss attack
That's all mine (woman x man)
alright, i'll be the one to say it. ao3 and tumblr becoming "mainstream" did so much damage to the community and the writers. i have seen loads of videos and posts about:
1. people hating on writers and fics. writing is something we do for free and for fun. if you stumble upon a fanfic that isn't necessarily your cup of tea or you just don't like, scroll. dont read it. literally leave their page. you don't know if this could be the author's first work that they're so excited about, you dont know if the language they're writing in isn't their first language, you dont know that the writer could be a literal teen and loads of other reasons. fanfictions don't HAVE to be perfect. you write what you want to write because we do it for fun and enjoyment and we want to share that to the world. seriously, what is the wrong with that?..
2. x reader consumers getting WAY too entitled. the number of tiktoks i've seen that say "i run a strict program when it comes to reading fanfics." girl you aint running shit. this is FAN FICTION you're reading. F A N F I C T I O N. there is no denying that most fanfiction writes are beyond talented but just because you read one fanfic that exceeds your expectations doesn't give you the right to talk down on others that don't. people have their own personal writing style, their way of doing things and you talking shit on that isn't right.
at the end of the day, we are all humans, reading and writing is what we do and what we're meant to do. and for you to talk shit about a person WRITING is so insane. we are humans. not some robots that you can tell what to do so you can consume it.
i've seen so so many authors take down their fanfics and losing all motivation to write because of a hate comment. DONT LIKE DONT READ‼️
and to every author reading this, this community values your work and your contribution. we love u and, please, never let anyone's negative words have an effect on you.
One thing golden era Wattpad writers had going for them was that they knew the importance of a buildup. I'm of the opinion that the sexual tension is WAY more satisfying to read than the actual sex and quite frankly there is a serious lack of non smutty writing.
Like I really miss reading fics/ x readers that start from scratch. Meeting the characters, initial reactions getting to know them, the tension the jealousy the TENSION the freaking tension.
Looking and looking away when they get spotted, touches that feel like they linger but perhaps they didn't and they're both so hot for each other that they think it's wishful thinking. And I don't mean just sweet sunshine romances, darker works can have a buildup too but it seems like so much is just about getting to the smut instead of the psychological aspect.
FORGET ABOUT SMUT. I LOVE IT BUT PLEASE I AM TIRED OF IT. I NEED ANGST. I NEED GUT WRENCHING EMOTIONAL TURMOIL THAT MAKES ME SICK TO MY STOMACH. I NEED TO BAWL JUST FROM THINKING ABOUT IT.
✧ Broken ribs suck. You don’t just “walk it off.” Breathing hurts. Laughing hurts. Existing hurts. Characters with rib injuries won’t be doing heroic sprints.
✧ Concussions aren’t instant naps. Dazed vision, nausea, dizziness, maybe even personality changes, but they’re not going to collapse neatly like in the movies.
✧ Blood loss is sneaky. It’s not just about dramatic pools of blood. It’s dizziness, confusion, and the body getting cold as circulation tanks.
✧ Adrenaline lies. Someone can take a serious injury and not feel it until the fight’s over. That “I didn’t realize I was bleeding until later” trope? Very real.
✧ Twisted ankles are brutal. One bad step and suddenly running is off the table. Even walking hurts like hell. Perfect way to ground a chase scene.
✧ Burns linger. Even small burns hurt more than most people expect. Blisters, infection risk, constant pain, it’s not just a cool scar later.
✧ Dislocated shoulders = useless arm. Characters can’t keep swinging a sword or firing a gun. They’re basically fighting one-armed until it’s fixed.
✧ Shock is a thing. Pale skin, trembling, rapid heartbeat, and eventually disorientation. A character might not even realize how bad their wound is.
✧ Stitches aren’t magic. Getting sewn up is painful and recovery takes time. They’re not instantly battle-ready after a needle and thread.
✧ Scars tell stories. Some fade, some don’t. Some stay sensitive forever. Don’t forget the aftermath when the wound becomes part of the character.
re: burns, if you get burned frequently (like when working in a kitchen etc) you might no longer notice that you got burned (with small burns at least). Washing your hands or showering with hot water will always remind you though
The Omatikaya had long since grown accustomed to my presence. I no longer felt the weight of wary stares or the hesitation in shared glances. Now, when I walked through Hometree, voices greeted me, hands reached to guide me, and laughter echoed in my ears. They had accepted me, a daughter of another clan, into their midst.
Even Tsu’Tey.
Especially Tus’Tey.
He had been distant at first—watchful, assessing, always carrying himself with the quiet authority of a warrior. But now, his presence followed me like a shadow. He was always near: guiding my steps during ceremonies, placing food in my hands before I could reach for it, bringing me the finest cuts of meat from his kills. I thought it was kindness, the generosity of a leader to an outsider.
I was wrong.
One evening, after a long day of gathering, I returned to my sleeping space within Hometree to find something waiting for me. A necklace—woven with careful hands, strung with beads of bone and glass, inlaid with the iridescent shimmer of a banshee’s feather. The intricate knotwork was unmistakably Omatikaya, but I knew the hands that had crafted it. Tsu’Tey’s.
I turned the piece over in my hands, running my fingers over the smooth wood beads and the tiny carvings that marked them. Some bore patterns I recognized from his own armbands. Others were unfamiliar—perhaps added by his kin. A gift, but not just any gift.
I should have known then.
The next time I saw him, I held it up. “This is beautiful,” I said. “Who is it for?”
His ears flicked in what I thought was amusement, but now, looking back, was probably frustration. “For you,” he said simply. “It is yours.”
I smiled, thinking it was a gesture of friendship. “Thank you, Tsu’Tey.” I slid it over my head, unaware of the weight of meaning behind it. His eyes lingered on me, something warm and unspoken in their depths.
Over the days that followed, his attention grew more… insistent. He would brush past me unnecessarily, the side of his face grazing my temple, his forehead pressing briefly against my shoulder. His scent clung to my skin, wild and earthen, and I found myself returning the touches absentmindedly—cheek to cheek, forehead to forehead—never realizing that with every nuzzle, every exchange of warmth, I was allowing him to claim me.
I only understood when Neytiri pulled me aside one evening, watching me with the mix of exasperation and amusement only a sister could wear. “You wear his gift,” she pointed out.
“Yes,” I said, running a hand over the beads. “It was kind of him.”
She gave me a look. “He courts you.”
The words struck me silent.
“He has made his intention clear. He gives you gifts, he brings you his hunts, he marks you with his scent. And you…” She tilted her head, lips curving. “You do not push him away.”
The weight of the necklace grew heavier around my throat. The offerings, the presence, the touches—it was all there, plain as day, if only I had known to see it. My heart stammered in my chest.
Did I want this?
I found him later that night, sharpening the blade of his knife beneath the glow of bioluminescent flora. He looked up as I approached, ears perking in quiet acknowledgment.
“Tsu’Tey,” I said, voice softer than I intended. I lifted the necklace in my hand. “I understand now.”
His expression did not change, but his tail flicked behind him, betraying anticipation.
“I have been blind to your ways,” I admitted, stepping closer. “But if this is truly your wish, then…” I reached up, pressing my forehead to his in the way he had done so many times before. His breath hitched, then steadied.
He did not need words. Instead, his hands came to rest at my waist, his cheek brushing along mine, slow and deliberate, as if savoring the moment. A purr rumbled deep in his chest.
I leaned into him, breathing him in.
I would learn his ways.
And I would learn him.
It was different after that night.
I saw it in the way Tsu’Tey looked at me, in the way he touched me, the way his scent lingered on my skin long after he had left my side. Now that I understood, I couldn’t unsee it—the devotion in every glance, the way his tail curled when I was near, the way he always, always made sure I had what I needed before I even realized I needed it.
And the clan saw it too.
They knew.
And they approved.
The gifts kept coming. Small things—a hand-woven sash, a carving of an ikran, a finely braided cord meant to tie my hair back. I never saw him making them, but I knew they were from him. And every time I accepted one, his ears would flick just a little, his tail swaying in satisfaction.
It was almost embarrassing, how obvious he was.
And how much I liked it.
A Different Kind of Claim
One night, after a long day, I was sitting by one of the fires, absentmindedly running my fingers over the beads of the necklace he had given me. It had become a habit, touching it whenever I thought about him—which, annoyingly, was often.
I didn’t even hear him approach.
“You wear it often.”
His voice was deep, familiar, settling into me like a warm current. I looked up to find him standing over me, his expression unreadable, though his tail betrayed him, flicking lazily behind him.
I smirked, tilting my head. “Should I not?”
His ears twitched. He crouched beside me, his gaze never leaving mine. “It pleases me,” he admitted.
I hummed in response, feeling the weight of his stare. The fire cast shadows over his face, highlighting the sharp angles of his jaw, the piercing focus of his eyes. I swallowed. I should have looked away, but I didn’t.
Instead, he leaned in, close enough that his scent wrapped around me, warm and earthy. His cheek brushed against mine, slow and deliberate, and I felt a shiver trail down my spine.
It wasn’t the first time he’d done this.
But something about this moment felt different.
His touch lingered. His breath was warm against my skin.
And then—his lips, grazing the curve of my jaw.
I stiffened, my breath catching in my throat. My fingers curled into the fabric of my woven sash, heart pounding. His hands—strong, steady—settled on my waist, pulling me just a little closer.
The movement was instinctual, my own hands coming up to press against his chest. His skin was warm beneath my palms, the steady drum of his heartbeat matching my own.
“Tsu’Tey,” I murmured, barely recognizing my own voice.
He made a low sound, something deep and pleased, his lips brushing the shell of my ear. “You accept me.” It wasn’t a question.
I swallowed hard. I had, hadn’t I? With every touch, every gift, every moment spent in his presence, I had already made my choice.
I nodded.
And that was all he needed.
The Final Step
The forest was quiet that night, save for the distant calls of nocturnal creatures and the gentle rustle of the leaves. The soft glow of bioluminescent plants lit our path as Tsu’Tey led me away from Hometree, his grip firm around my wrist.
I followed without question.
I trusted him.
When we reached a secluded grove, he turned to face me, his hands finding my shoulders, then trailing down my arms in a slow, reverent touch. His expression was softer than I had ever seen it.
“This is sacred,” he murmured.
I nodded, my throat tight.
Na’vi mated for life. There were no second chances, no taking it back.
This was forever.
And I wanted forever with him.
He must have seen my answer in my eyes, because his lips curved, something warm and certain settling in his gaze.
Then, slowly—almost hesitantly—he pressed his forehead to mine.
I exhaled, my hands rising to grip his shoulders.
His cheek brushed against mine, his scent enveloping me completely, claiming me in a way that went beyond words. I felt his fingers slide over my waist, my hips, pulling me flush against him.
There was no rush, no urgency.
Only quiet reverence.
Only us.
When our queues met—when I felt the first rush of connection, of knowing—I gasped, my fingers tightening on his skin.
Tsu’Tey let out a shuddering breath, his grip on me fierce.
And then—
Nothing else existed.
As Tsu’tey hovered above you, the intensity in his gaze made your breath hitch. The anticipation pulsed between you like the energy of Pandora itself. He leaned in closer, his warm breath ghosting across your skin, and you felt every nerve in your body come alive.
With deliberate slowness, he began to enter you. An electric thrill coursed through you as he pushed inside, stretching you in a way that made your body ache for more. You gasped at the sensation; it was a heady mix of pleasure and a hint of discomfort as he filled you completely. “Are you okay?” he murmured, his voice low and gravelly, filled with concern.
“Yes,” you managed to breathe, the word escaping in a soft gasp as you instinctively arched your back, urging him to go deeper.
Tsu’tey paused for a moment, allowing you to adjust to his size. His eyes were fierce, filled with a hunger that matched your own, yet there was a gentleness in his touch that grounded you. His hands slid possessively to your hips, fingers digging slightly into your flesh, and when he began to move, it was agonizingly delicious.
He thrust slowly at first, his movements measured, each stroke deliberate. You felt every inch of him as he pressed deeper, drawing soft gasps from your lips. Tsu’tey watched you intently; the way your body responded to him fed his desire, and you could see that he was enthralled by what he was doing to you.
“Feel me,” he urged, his voice a soft growl, sending shivers racing down your spine. His pace quickened, and you felt the heat coiling tighter within you. Every thrust was powerful, sending waves of pleasure radiating through your body. You moaned softly, lost in the sensation, your body responding eagerly to him.
As the rhythm intensified, Tsu’tey leaned down, capturing your lips in a heated kiss. His tongue slid against yours, deepening the connection as you became more lost in the moment. The taste of him, mixed with the intoxicating breath of the foreign world around you, was almost overwhelming.
“More,” you gasped, your voice barely a whisper, but he heard you, responding instantly by thrusting harder, deeper. You could feel the coil in your core tightening, the edge of pleasure growing closer with each powerful stroke.
“Let go for me,” he urged, his words laced with primal need, his grip tightening around your hips. His movements grew more fervent, your bodies moving in perfect harmony as the world outside faded into nothing.
You felt the wave building, cresting toward a peak you were desperate to reach. Tsu’tey’s breath was ragged as he lost himself in you, his powerful frame driving you higher and higher. You clung to him, nails digging into his back as the sensation spiraled, your body tightening around him, pulling him in impossibly closer.
“Just like that,” he growled, his voice a raw edge of desire. “You’re doing so well.”
As he pressed deeper, Tsu’tey’s queue—a long, delicate braid—fell gracefully over your shoulder. He hesitated for only a moment before connecting it to yours, the soft strands intertwining. The moment his kelku touched yours, a rush of shared energy surged through you, sparking something primal and deep.
The bond was intoxicating. You could feel his emotions, his desires, and every aspect of what it meant to be one with him. Your bodies moved as a single entity, every thrust synchronizing with the rhythm of your hearts. You were no longer just two beings; you were connected in a way that transcended the physical.
With one last deep thrust, the dam finally broke. You let out a cry of ecstasy as pleasure washed over you. Stars erupted behind your eyelids; it felt as if your very souls were entwining. Tsu’tey groaned, burying himself deeper as he followed you into bliss, the connection of your queues amplifying the waves of ecstasy that consumed you both.
The world seemed to stand still for a moment, caught in the aftershocks of your shared pleasure. Tsu’tey collapsed beside you, drawing you into his embrace. You felt the rhythmic thump of his heart against your skin, the world around you bathed in the soft glow of Pandora.
As you both reveled in the aftermath, a deep sense of connection settled over you. It was more than a physical union; it was a melding of souls, a promise of something profound and enduring in the magical landscape of Pandora.
The morning after, everything felt different.
The air smelled richer, the sounds of the forest sharper, the warmth of his skin still lingering on mine. I wasn’t sure if it was just me, if I was imagining it—but then I shifted, stretching against the soft moss beneath me, and felt him move beside me.
Tsu’Tey was awake. Watching me.
I turned my head, finding him propped up on one elbow, his gaze steady. His ears flicked at my movement, tail twitching behind him in that slow, lazy way that told me he was content.
“Mawey,” he murmured, reaching out to brush his fingers over my cheek.
I didn’t pull away. Didn’t want to. Instead, I leaned into his touch, my own hand covering his.
Last night was still heavy between us. The bond, the knowing, the weight of what we had done.
We were mated.
Forever.
My chest tightened at the thought—not with fear, but with something more. Something I didn’t have words for yet.
Tsu’Tey must have sensed it, because his expression softened. His fingers trailed down to my jaw, then lower, tracing the curve of my throat where his scent lingered strongest. A quiet hum rumbled in his chest, deep and pleased.
“You are mine,” he said simply.
I swallowed, my fingers tightening on his wrist. “And you are mine.”
His eyes darkened, his tail flicking again, sharper this time.
Then, without another word, he leaned in, his nose brushing against my cheek before rubbing slow, deliberate circles into my skin. He worked his way down my neck, his scent marking me all over again.
It was instinctive. Possessive.
And I let him.
I turned my head, doing the same—nuzzling into the curve of his shoulder, the line of his jaw, breathing him in until I was covered in him.
His grip on me tightened.
When we finally pulled apart, I saw it in his face—that quiet pride, that knowing that we belonged to each other now in a way that could never be undone.
It was a truth.
A promise.
And the clan would know it, too.
The Clan’s Approval
By the time we returned to Hometree, the sun was high, and the whispers had already started.
The Na’vi were not subtle. They knew what had happened.
Eyes followed us as we walked through the village—some teasing, some approving, some simply knowing. I could feel the shift in their gazes, the quiet acceptance that came when a bond was made official.
Tsu’Tey walked beside me, his chest lifted, shoulders squared. Proud.
He wanted them to see.
Neytiri was the first to approach, her expression unreadable as she took me in. She glanced at Tsu’Tey, then at me, then at the way I still wore his necklace around my throat.
Then, after a long pause, her lips curled into a smirk.
“So, you finally see,” she teased.
Heat rushed to my face. “I—”
She held up a hand, cutting me off. “It is good.” Her tone was softer now, approval clear in her eyes. “You are one of us now. Truly.”
I swallowed, something warm blooming in my chest at her words.
One of them.
Omatikaya.
Tsu’Tey exhaled beside me, and when I looked up at him, his expression had softened.
Acceptance.
This was more than just our bond. This was my place here, solidified not just by him, but by the clan.
By family.
A New Life Together
That night, the celebration was small but meaningful. The elders spoke blessings over our bond, and gifts were given—new beads for my necklace, fabrics for our shared sleeping space, wooden carvings of Pa’li and Ikran, symbols of strength and unity.
Tsu’Tey accepted them all with quiet reverence, his hand never straying far from mine.
And later, when the fires burned low and the others drifted into sleep, he pulled me close, his forehead pressing to mine.
“We begin a life together,” he murmured.
I nodded, my fingers tracing the beads of his necklace—one that I would now add to, as was tradition for mated pairs. “Together.”
His tail wrapped around mine, and as he kissed me, slow and deep, I knew—
He settled on the couch, a book in his hand. But still, he couldn't focus on the words, the letters blurring into an amorphous mass. So instead, he put it away as he let himself drift in the quiet of the night.
And then you found him—like you did most of the time.
He could tell you were tired and drowsy after a whole day of working, your eyes half-lidded and your movements sluggish. You deserved a good night's sleep.
So when you climbed on top of him, draping yourself over him like a weighted blanket, there was no hesitation in Emmrich's mind. He embraced you in his arms—one hand resting on the small of your back, the other gently stroking your hair.
Soon, your breathing slowed, your body relaxed, becoming putty in his hands.
You were so soft. So warm. He kept you safe, tucked against him like you belonged there—with him. Like he also belonged there with you. Always with you.
He should have followed you to the land of dreams. He knew he should rest, knew he needed to. It would be so easy, after all, to close his eyes and get lost in this warm cocoon you've created.
But Emmrich didn't want to sleep.
For if he closed his eyes, he would have to leave this moment.
And he wasn't quite ready to fall into blissful unconsciousness. He wanted to hold you, to kiss you, to whisper soft, quiet words meant only for you, even if you didn't hear them.
So he pressed a gentle kiss to your temple and whispered, "I love you so much, my darling."
He should have met you earlier.
The thought haunted him more often than not nowadays. It crept into his brain and twisted inside of him, tightening around his heart until it ached.
You were young, that's true—but not in a way that made him ever doubt your feelings or think that you don't know your heart well enough. You were young in a way that weighted on him; you had so much life to live. And he didn't.
Emmrich was always concerned with his mortality, with time passing relentlessly. But with you, his time had never felt so finite.
He should have been young when you were. Should have had the chance to love you for longer, much longer. He wanted to fall asleep and wake up with you for so many mornings that he lost count. He wanted to see you happy, hear your laugh, trace the shape of your face with his fingers until it was burned into his memory.
He wanted years. Decades. A lifetime.
Emmrich wanted more time than he had the right to ask for.
He knew he was greedy. And that was alright, because all he wanted was to be the only one to love you, to give you it all.
He knew you deserved everything, every star in the sky and every ray of sunshine. You deserved unconditional love, a bottomless well of devotion.
And now he was running out of time. He knew it.
If he focused hard enough, he could almost see it. A future, not that distant, where he no longer existed, where he was no longer a part of your world. You'd carry on, of course. You'd be alright. Strong, bright, brilliant. But without him.
Would you find love again? he wondered. Would you search for it after him?
He wanted to be selfish and think that he'd be your endgame—that he'd be the one for you, that no one else would ever love you the way he did.
But then again, he wanted nothing more than for you to be happy. Wanted for you to love and be loved.
More than anything, though, he wanted time. More of it. All the time in the world.
Emmrich's arms tightened around you. He pressed another kiss to your temple, but this time he stayed like that a little longer, breathing the sweet scent of you.
You sighed in your sleep and shifted, pressing impossibly closer to him.
And so he stayed awake. Just a minute longer. Maybe two. Just to still feel you in his arms. Just to still be with you.
There's never a bad version of "Emmrich feels conflicted about jacking off to Rook" (delicious, keep it up guys) but can I just say my favorite version of this is taking it to its natural conclusion.
Emmrich, a gentleman, refuses to continue after the first time or two his base impulses get the best of him.
But the problem, see, is that his little... fascination... with Rook does not improve with time. Eventually, Rook is the only thing he can think about.
So he stops touching himself entirely.
Unfortunately for Emmrich, killing gods takes rather a lot longer than one would hope. The first couple weeks are fine, of course. Perhaps even the first month. Emmrich is a man who knows how to handle himself. But the days wear on, and Emmrich only grows more and more reactive, more desperate. He flusters easily; he very quietly gets riled up, with nothing to betray him but a faint blush and the frozen, mortified expression of a Victorian gentleman with considerably more honor than good sense.
This isn't the first time this has happened to him, but it dawns on him slowly that the last two crushes he strangled in this fashion were on academics. His contact with Rook is in admittedly more... vigorous contexts. There's rather a lot of delicious muscle being flexed, incredible feats of athleticism, flushing cheeks and fine sheens of sweat, and as much as he might try not to notice it... rather a lot more bouncing than is strictly speaking comfortable.
It's not improved by the fact that Rook is an opportunist: if there is a quip to be made, or an appalling pun, they'll do it. Flirting, by Emmrich's assessment, is no different for them. They aren't really interested, of COURSE not-- but try telling his leaping heart (and, ahem--) that.
There are some days he very much wishes to strangle his unruly anatomy-- except, at this juncture, it would undoubtedly be taken as encouragement.
If waking hours weren't already enough of a torment, this is when he becomes haunted by The Dreams. Rook bent over his desk, moaning. Rook pulling him into an alleyway and pressing him against the wall, eager with their kisses. Rook's hand impatiently undoing his sash. Rook's grin. Rook's hot, clever mouth--
Emmrich wakes up breathless, grinding down on his bed, and he can't stop. He tips over the edge almost immediately.
It should come as a relief. It doesn't. Things only get worse.
(When Rook finally has their impulsive way with him-- when they are busy kissing and pawing each other like teenagers and Rook's hand slips down and Emmrich breathlessly says, "Perhaps we should slow down?" and Rook tilts their head to the side, considers for a fraction of a second, and says, "Nah."-- the first sound Emmrich makes is a loud groan of pure relief.)
Tbh I think fandom generally needs to get better at sitting with the uncomfortable fact that a story/fanwork/meme/whatever can hurt one person and help another
This is why I think “tag warning” culture is kinder and more constructive than cancel culture / “no problematic content” culture. One size does not fit all, but if we learn to be more aware of the fact that the same thing can be emotionally validating or cathartic to one person and upsetting to another, and pick up a general mindset of thinking before we post, “what might people need a heads up for in this content?”, we grow more compassionate, more thoughtful, and more understanding of the differences in people’s experiences.
We need mean!reader, angry!reader, misunderstood!reader, creepy!reader, gross!reader, toxic!reader, nonforgiving!reader, selfish!reader, narcissistic!reader, dark!reader, FEDUP!reader. That bitch is way too nice, passive, and sensible. ✋🏾😂
World is what you imagine it to be @askforimagineoroneshot - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
