snippet snippet, i give a snippet. so full disclosure: the last time i wrote something was in may of 2022. i'm quite rusty, and haven't written anything from this pov before so be gentle with me lol. but i noticed a severe lack of kyle x reader fics so gotta make them myself lol
Hearing the doorknop click open, your eyes shot over to the doorway as you saw Kyle poke his head through, a large smile plastered on his face as he shimmied through the opening. You raised an eyebrow as you noticed his arms behind his back, knowing he could read your puzzled expression as he shuffled over to the couch you were occupying.
“You’re gonna like what I found,” he grinned, the smile growing wider as you giggled at his sing-songy tone. “Okay, pick a hand.”
Pursing your lips as you contemplated your options, taking all the time you wanted as you knew he could only be so patient for so long, the smile crossing your lips as you watched him begin to fidget more on the spot he occupied. You tapped your pointer finger to your chin, pretending to think a bit more as you could hear the soft impatient groan above when you used your free hand to point to each arm, weighing each choice.
“How about…” you started, noticing him bounce on his spot as he anticipated you finally making a decision. “Or…”
“Babe come on...”
You couldn’t help but laugh at the whine in his tone, feeling slightly bad for pressing his buttons, but the small pout on his face made it too hard to resist. “How about the left then?”
Watching as the smile grew back on his face, you noticed him shuffle whatever he had behind his back before stretching out his left arm, narrowing your eyes as they landed on the familiar item in his hand.
“Wow… my Switch,” you started, taking the console out of his hand as you watched him roll his eyes. “You… really shouldn’t have.”
“Unlock it silly.”
You felt the couch shift as he took a seat next to you as your fingers fumbled with the buttons, your eyes lighting up as they landed on the new graphic on the home screen.
“Wait you actually-”
“Davis found ‘em while we were out,” he beamed, fiddling with his own Switch to boot the game up. “I know you’ve been wanting to play so figured I’d surprise you.”
The smile grew on your face as you clicked on the graphic, the wave of nostalgia upon seeing Dialga rushing over you as you watched the opening sequence, eyes mesmerized on the small chibi-like figures moving on the screen. Feeling the weight slowly press against your side, you slightly turned your head to see him peering over your shoulder at the Switch.
“So, what starter you picking?”
You couldn’t help but laugh as you made your way through the opening screens, clicking mindlessly through the screens you knew by heart from playing the other games, feeling his expectant stare as you started making your character. “I haven’t even gotten that far yet.” You turned to look at his own Switch, chuckling as you saw it was still on the title screen. “Kyle you haven’t even started!”
“Well, I don’t want to pick the same one as you!” Narrowing your eyes, you turned to look at him as he started clicking through the screens, simply shrugging as he glanced up at your puzzled expression. “How else will we fill the Dex?”
Eve seems way less flustered than Varia though…. Or is she just better at keeping her chill?
Since this is one of our only good moments from the show, and it was before Varia tried to kill her lol, I often go back to this. The way they usually write Eve is kinda whiny tbh, and I ignore that in favor of this Eve here who’s kinda coy and mysterious but obviously can’t resist Varia’s charm
Also heterosexually explain to us why Tsianina chose to make that face in this moment. She knew 👀
As much as I love a jealous Natsu, I wish that in the most recent chapter Lucy wasn’t just used for comedic relief/fanservice. Like, she has FREAKING STAR DRESSES WHICH SHE HAS BATTLED WITH AND THEY DON’T FALL APART EVEN WITH HOW MUCH FIGHTING SHE’S DONE! And it just fell apart with this Lady?! Like?! WHat?! And more importantly, WHEN IS MY QUEEN GOING TO GET A FIGHT WHERE SHE IS NOT INTERRUPTED OR SOMEONE ELSE TAKES OVER?! MY QUEEN DESERVES BETTER!
hey pals, i haven't shared creative stuff in a little bit so lemme throw you a little snippet of a kyle x reader (ofc) fic i worked on tonight, cause it's cute and i really like it ~
Absentmindedly scrolling through the sea of images on your screen, you weren’t exactly sure where to start. You knew you had taken quite a few photos from the shows the past weeks, but didn’t realize how many there were until they were staring you back in the face. If you were being honest, the past few days had been mostly a blur: getting on a plane to come to LA, two shows the next day, another show after that, and then back on a plane to Japan for two back to back show days. If you weren’t so entranced with the photos in front of you, you would probably question how much sleep you had gotten the past five days, but not knowing was honestly the better option.
You took a sip of the tea next to you as you clicked on one of the photos from today’s show, a small smile crossing your lips as your eyes landed on the man in the shot. It was definitely one of the better shots you had taken of Kyle doing his corner entrance, though he didn’t make it very easy with the way he sweeps the cape around, let alone the expressions he tended to make. This one though. The more you thought about it, it might be one of your favorite ones you had taken in Japan.
Fiddling with some of the color settings, you tried to even out the colors of the photo, internally cursing the lighting in the arena. While you enjoyed being over in Japan and watching the guys have the run they were on, the lighting was much trickier to work with than in the arenas stateside that you were used to working in. You tested some filters as the smile grew on your face as your vision came to fruition, the lighting contrast now much more eye-pleasing and colors balanced nicer than what they were. Nodding in approval, you leaned back in your chair as you gazed over your work. The graceful flow of the cape, the gold coloring shimmering as the light hit it from above, to the determined look on his face, ready to take on whatever battle was coming next. It really was such a lovely shot.
“Now that’s a beaut.”
Jumping a bit in your seat, your head spun to the side to see Kyle leaning down to gaze upon the image on the screen, a smile crossing his own lips as he looked it over. You had been so entranced in your work that you hadn’t heard him shut the water off from his shower, let alone him opening the bathroom door to come back in the room.
“Really I don’t know how you do it,” he started, standing back up and running a hand through his wet mess of hair. “You make me look way better than I actually do.”
“Well that’s a giant lie.” Crossing your arms over your chest, you watched as he mirrored your position, raising his brows as he obviously wasn’t believing any of it. “Seriously, you make a wonderful model. It’s not that hard to take lovely pictures of you.”
“What if I go like this?”
He placed his hands on his hips, squinting slightly as he pursed his lips together as he swayed slowly on his spot. You couldn’t help giggling at his best attempt at a “blue steel”, him reaching his hands up to run through his hair before giving finger guns.
“Hold on a sec, let me get my camera.”
Turning back around to your back, you heard him shuffle over to your chair, arms wrapped around you as you heard him muttering no in your back. You laughed as you tried to reach one of your arms over to your bag under his, Kyle’s embrace just getting tighter as he pulled you back.
“I think you’ve shot enough for today,” he stated, setting his chin on your shoulder as he glanced back at the image on the screen. “Seriously though, this is a great photo. You outdid yourself on this one.”
“Think we could get a large print and hang at the house?” Resting his forehead on your back, you could hear his stifled laughs, the smile crossing on your lips. “Or we could get some smaller ones framed to give to the guys this Christmas.”
“That I would actually consider.”
Narrowing your eyes, you carefully turned until you could see the top of his head. “Oh, so they can have a photo to look at every day, but I can’t?”
He picked his head back up so he could meet your gaze, his own puzzled expression falling onto his face. “Babe, you have plenty of photos of me.”
So when are you going to start writing A LEAGUE OF THEIR OWN tv show fanfic?
there are so many options with which to run 😩 really i just wanna write about jess and lupe’s adventures throughout the season that only got a passing reference 🫡
feel free to check it out. this is my first time posting over there so. taking steps out there to feel better about my writing. may post more over there if this one goes well ~
hi so. i’ve been contemplating sharing it anywhere since it exploded out last wednesday but. i’m gonna go for it and if i get slapped with the usual disappointment, well then i’ll just hoard them if more possibly happen and share with squad i guess.
for those who are new and don’t know, i used to write a lot. i had a whole novel idea out (i still want to write it tbh but lol feels) and have multiple universes of characters i worked with. however, being mentally ill combined with losing every writing piece i’ve worked on after my external hard drive corrupted itself, it’s left me with very weird emotions to my own writing and actually writing things.
welp, thanks to “folklore” giving me creative inspiration, i wrote a thing for the first time in over a year. and i’m gonna drop it here with hopes that maybe it can help rebuild my feelings towards writing. it’s an original thing, as i rarely write any pure fandom things (and if i do it’s primarily marvel ocxcanon things so lol), and this is part of a universe i created that takes place in the marvel verse so. take a gander if you want, and let me know what you think please?
"When you are young, they assume you know nothing"
He had heard it more times than he could count. Whether it was branching out, trying to make friends with the wrong kind of people, or a simplistic version softly slipping from the brunet's lips in a moment of his ramblings, it still stuck with him. He wasn't sure how he felt about it really. Of course when he was around members of the older generation, he seemed to pick up on the vibes they were giving. That younger people didn't really know anything, or they weren't as knowledgeable as the older crowd.
It infuriated him more than anything, though with the light of recent events, maybe there was some right to their words. Maybe instead of not knowing anything, they were just more gullible, or more hopeful when there was disappointment surrounding them with every passing year it seemed. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't a victim to that type of thinking. He more than anyone he knew held onto that tiny shred of hope for the future, and yet, he still ended up in the same place.
Leaning his head back to rest on the cool wooden surface of the bench, he blew a light trail of smoke from his mouth, watching as it faded into the night sky. It frustrated him, the fact that he still sat here in the usual spot, even though now he was only a half of the norm he had finally gotten adjusted to. Looking around was every familiarity the pair had claimed a memory for.
He sat up a bit, his gaze moving over to the streetlight, a bittersweet smile crossing his lips. It didn’t take much to envision the brunet in one of his rare drunken stupors, twirling around the light as he laughed that he was perfecting his next career opportunity. He had even pulled the pink haired man closer to him, gently shoving his hands up the baggy purple sweatshirt as he tried his best to do a standing lap dance.
And then he was snapped to reality. That he sat there alone now.
The smile soon dropped to a sneer, taking a drag off the cigarette in his hand as he pushed himself off from the bench. He wasn’t sure where he was headed next, all he knew was that he didn’t want to go home. The last thing he wanted to face was another night in an empty apartment he wasn’t even sure how he was going to afford for much longer. He was tired, but not in the way that a night’s sleep could fix.
Slowly stopping in his tracks, he was met with the streetlight that had been on his mind only a moment ago. He reached his hand up to brush it against the cool metal, softly tracing the details with his fingertips. How one simple object that everyone saw in their daily life could make someone forget everything reality had brought, just to give back one of the good days he wished he could experience again.
But given the option, would he?
He dropped his hand from the streetlight, bringing the cigarette to his lips as he shook his head. On and off, just like the light, was their entire relationship it felt like. Dimmer in the day when everyone was in view, but brighter in the evening when it was only them and the dark that night brought. Not to mention that everyone knew when it was broken, and everyone would come and try their hardest to fix it.
But unlike the streetlight, not even the most expert mechanic could fix what had gone wrong for them.
Leaving the trail of smoke in the air, he dropped the cigarette remains on the ground, stomping them out before shoving his hands in his pocket and moving on. If he stayed there any longer he knew he’d dig out his phone and do something he’d regret. He had already done it countless times before, always ending up with the same results, just to meet the same fate he was in now. Only now, now seemed to be the worst it had ever been.
He could feel the shape of the phone in his pocket as his fingertips brushed over it, his eyes dropping to the cobblestone path underneath his feet. He could only imagine how many messages were awaiting him if he brought it out, no doubt Wynn had already been blowing it up once the brunet had gotten back and told her what had happened.
How he had swallowed his pride and went over to the apartment, only to meet the dead eyes of the pink-haired man who couldn’t have even bothered to put his contact in. How Ian had given the same ordeal he probably had memorized at this point. How it was just his “clientele,” even though he had swore he was done with it. How it meant nothing, that Nate was blowing it out of proportion with what he saw.
And how Nate then slammed the door in his face, telling the brunet he never wanted to see him, let alone be touched by him ever again.
All that had engulfed his brain in that moment was everyone’s reactions when they had found out. That they knew what kind of man Ian was. He had been in questionable situations since he was sixteen, being wrapped up with the wrong people. He would pretend to love someone for a night, using his abilities to give them the time they had only thought of, only to take his paycheck and leave before the morning sun could break. Nate would always defend it, saying he wasn’t the best either, even having three years in prison to back his claims up, so maybe they were meant for each other.
He’d try his best to explain it, that what they saw and knew wasn’t what he knew. How he knew that the brunet’s laugh was one of the sweetest sounds he had ever experienced, and he would try everything he could so he could hear it. How Ian’s own self-deprecating humor matched his own, possibly being worse than Nate could ever imagine his being, leading him to question if it was even a joke anymore or his own self-hatred oozing out. How the pink-haired man had seen him at his worst, broken after a nightmare brought him back to the night he had his youth ripped away from him and led to the life he now lived.
They claimed they knew him, but Nate knew him too, in a way that no one else could possibly ever know.
Reaching a hand out from his pocket, he brushed it against his face, trying to not notice the slight dampness around his eyes. The last thing he needed was to have a moment out in the open, with the possibility of running into one of their mutuals and seeing him look like the wreck he was on the inside. If he could run to his apartment before it exploded, that would be the best outcome.
But why. What was the point of going home. What was the point of anything at this point.
He didn’t know what he felt anymore. He felt deceived, like he had been lied to and led on this entire time. That even though he was the first to ever get close to the brunet, the first he ever uttered those three words to, he was still thrown to the side like last year’s old cardigan that was no longer useful. They had gotten knee deep into each other’s lives, digging through every detail of the skeletons they had locked away in their closets, bared their souls and every fear they both had.
Just to find the brunet in the arms of a busty blonde, watching her manhandle Ian in a way the other man couldn’t ever dream of doing.
Maybe he was lying to himself this whole time. How it wasn’t true when Ian would say he’d always go home to him, that Nate was his favorite. How maybe the person he had fallen for wasn’t real and was just a facade he had hoped the brunet would be. How everyone had been right, that he really didn’t know anything. How he was right and that he’d end up alone.
Brushing his sleeve across his face to take the tears away from his eyes, he pressed on to the familiar building he had called home, though it didn’t feel much like home anymore. He probably should instead examine the alleyways leading to the building beforehand, as he was sure he’d be claiming one of them as his own before he knew it. He just wasn’t sure about much of anything anymore. His whole life was once again crumbling before his eyes, and for once he couldn’t blame it on his abilities. No, instead he could blame it on being naive and not listening to everyone in the beginning, for falling for the wrong person and having his heart become his own personal punching bag.
And as much as he hated to admit it, given the chance, he’d probably go back to him. Just to have it all happen again.
He froze in his tracks, slowly lifting his gaze to meet another familiar sight. Instead of heading to his own apartment building, his subconscious had brought him to the building that his group of friends called home. His heart rose a bit, seeing the lights on in the room he had been in too many times to count. If the lights in Ian’s room were on, that meant he was there, and given what hour of the night it was, it meant he wasn’t out “working.”
Watching as the familiar figure appeared in the window, his eyes widened as he saw Ian look down at him, like he had known he was going to show up there. Or, maybe more, the brunet had hoped Nate would arrive, much like he had hoped that this had all been a horrible nightmare he was having and that he’d wake up in Ian’s arms that he had gotten accustomed to. Yet there they both were, knowing the events of the week were unfortunately real, and Nate would openly admit that he’d punch the brunet square in the face if given the chance after what Ian had put him through.
He thought about it, going up there and screaming every emotion he was feeling in the moment. But why. Just so Ian could twist his words that he did so well and the pink haired main would be wrapped around his finger and end up back in his bed. And as much as he hated to admit it, he would be fine with it. It would mean he’d be back in the brunet’s arms and it could maybe feel normal again.
No.
A sneer fell back on his face as he shook his head, watching as Ian turned away from the window. As much as he wanted that closure, to hope that it was the brunet having a moment of being inconsiderate and that what he had been saying was true, Nate just. Couldn’t do it to himself again. Not after this time.
No, Ian was going to have to work hard to even have the pink haired man’s time of day, let alone be able to step foot in his apartment again. Nate wasn’t going to throw away his feelings, his pain, just to be able to have peace of mind again. He knew he could do better, that he deserved better, and if that meant doing as Ian himself had suggested and leaving to live full-time at the school, he’d do it.
Before the brunet could look his way again, Nate spun on his heels to head in the direction of his building. He knew this wasn’t going to be the last time he’d end up here, or have Ian at his doorstep, but he needed time. Time for the pain to heal and to eventually listen to whatever bullshit spewed out of the brunet’s mouth, hoping that maybe it would be what he hoped for instead of Ian ending up with a fist in his face. Whatever it ended up being, he’d try to be ready, even if being ready meant packing up his bags and leaving it all behind. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever be ready to leave, but if it’s what it came do, he’d do whatever was best for him and whatever sanity he had left.
