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undead-supernova · 9 months ago

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HIGH TOLERANCE

Only 10mg / Masterlist

Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5

warnings: so much angst, a night gone wrong, more (derogatory) Steve, Gertrude (extra derogatory), Delta-9 gummies

pairings: modern!bestfriend!Eddie x bisexual!fem!reader

plot: dates aren't always what you want them to be...let alone with people who you don't really want to be on dates with

wc: 4k

song inspirations: VOID by Melanie Martinez, We Are Nobody Else by Lady Lamb

“What do you mean you haven’t seen any movies this year?”

“I mean, I’ve seen movies. I just haven’t found anything I thought was interesting in the last eight months.”

“What do you watch then?”

This morning you actually found someone on Hinge named Gertrude and by the afternoon you were on a lunch date. And you’d thought they were cute when you met up at Grub Burger, like really cute, with thin-rimmed rectangular glasses and a long dark braid down their back. They had a soft voice and an even softer smile…but it was quickly starting to go downhill.

Every question they threw at you felt like an investigation where you were wrong every single time, as if your preferences weren’t good enough. Even the lack of movies you’d seen.

In your defense, you usually went to the movie theater if Eddie asked. He was really good at guessing when a movie’s going to be worthwhile (and you weren’t). He never once disappointed. He’d also never taken you to a movie without at least giving you something of the cannabis persuasion and buying a large popcorn for you to share.

Sometimes he even bought your ticket.

Which you always pretended were dates like the desperate woman you were.

“Yeah, I really like 2000s movies,” you replied, shrugging. “I’ll pop on a Seth Rogan film every once and a while. Like, I know they’re a little outdated or whatever, but they’re fun. Oh, especially if you smoke some weed. Then it’s super funny. Like, This Is The End? It’s just cool to see all these actors—"

“I mean, they’re, like, super problematic,” Gertrude interrupted.

You nodded. “No, I know,” you agreed, scratching at your neck. “I know. It’s not the best, but like, I recognize that. I don’t think it’s all funny. And it’s not just Seth Rogan, there are other genres like dramas and fantasy and horror. Have you heard of the movie The Invisible? It’s about this guy who dies and is a ghost and can’t talk to anyone and finds out he—”

“I just thought because you’re queer, you’d have better standards for the media you consume.”

Pausing, you felt yourself deflate. You shrugged again, wondering how this conversation was turning into something else entirely. “I mean, I think you could argue that every piece of media is problematic, depending on the way you look at it. If you acknowledge that the media you like is flawed, you’re still allowed to enjoy it. It’s not that hard.”

Gertrude gave you that judgmental look again, pushing their fork around their French fries. “Agree to disagree. Anyways, maybe you should ask me a question now.”

As if I had had any chance to ask anything since we sat down.

“Uh, okay. What’s your favorite color?”

Gertrude finally smiled for the first time since you’d greeted each other. They really were pretty. There was just something so grating about their attitude…

“I think I like a soft yellow, something bright and cheery.”

You nodded, trying to seem more interested than you were. Some part of you even felt like laughing. “Yeah, yellow’s a good color. Very vibrant. Makes you happy.”

“What about you?”

“I don’t know. Maybe black? Red?”

Steve sighed, scratching his bare thigh before going back to his cherry and goat cheese ice cream. Eddie merely stared down at his cream puff flavor, unsure as to why he thought this date would be a good idea. He’d suggested they go out to get ice cream (definitely not to distract himself from what was probably happening across town with someone who he definitely wasn’t thinking about).

But Steve didn’t remotely hesitate, making Eddie think that maybe that was a sign. He was in it now. They were getting somewhere…

If only it hadn’t started going downhill just from asking basic questions that they somehow hadn’t thought of in the last however many years of knowing each other.

“Ah, come on, Eddie. You can’t say red!”

Eddie’s eyebrows furrowed, trying not to get irritated. “Why not?” he asked. “It’s a color. That was part of the assignment.”

“I just feel like it’s a little stereotypical for you.”

“Why, ‘cause I like metal?” Eddie guessed with a sigh sitting in the back of his throat. He was careful not to release it.

“Uh, yeah,” Steve replied. Like it was obvious. Like it was stupid. “Precisely.”

“Okay, then what’s yours, big guy?”

“Probably red or green,” you answered. “Not a soft green. More like a deep emerald?”

“Like Christmas?”

You shook your head. To give them credit, it was a common question you got whenever anyone cared enough to ask.

Well, except for one person...

“Well, no. I wouldn’t consider myself someone who likes Christmas all that much.”

“Let me guess, your favorite holiday is something weird, like St. Patrick’s Day.”

What the hell was this person even talking about? Were they hearing themselves talk?

You successfully suppressed your sigh before you decided to answer honestly. “Uh, my favorite holiday is Halloween.”

“Next you’re gonna tell me your favorite holiday is Halloween.”

Eddie raised an eyebrow. “Uh, because it is.” What was Steve even talking about? Why was he suddenly being so fucking judgmental? “Let me guess, your favorite is Christmas,” he bit back.

Steve laughed, oblivious to Eddie’s venom. “Yeah, the lights are cool. The hot chocolate with the peppermint in it. Oh, and the snow. You can layer everything. I mean, it’s cute. Plus,” he stopped, clearly trying to make his next sentence sound less rude. “I just think Halloween is a little…meh.”

“Meh?”

Steve shrugged. “Yeah.”

“What beef do you have with Halloween?”

“It’s just a little overdone, don’t you think?”

You shook your head, appalled as to why they didn’t get how important the holiday was.

“No, I think it’s about expressing yourself and becoming something more than what you are. It gives kids a moment of exploration of themselves and creativity. Not to mention its importance for queer people and how they can have one night where they can be themselves—"

“—without the scrutiny of the public. We could walk out in drag or anything feminine whatsoever and it’s not considered threatening, even if that’s shitty in and of itself. But it’s still that opportunity.” Eddie smiled to himself. “That chance. It’s bringing a sense of fucking safety that’s otherwise missing.”

Steve nodded before he shrugged, scraping at the bottom of his cup. “Yeah, you make a good point. I guess I haven’t really thought about it like that.”

Eddie forgot that he and Steve never really had conversations like these. It was usually you who he could talk to for hours on end, deconstructing what it meant to live and how everything was about perspective. Inebriated, sober—it didn’t matter. Like those days at the aquarium, you were able to see the bigger picture at the end of the day. You talked about stuff like this without even having to be asked.

That ticket still sat in his wallet. He always took it out whenever he needed a pick-me-up. It gave him a spark of hope that life could change for the better if someone like you existed.

Steve kept talking, but Eddie was pulling out his wallet and running his fingers over the ticket like it would bring you here and he could have you here instead.

As you and Gertrude fell into silence, you put your hand in your skirt pocket, feeling the smoothness of Eddie’s yellow pick. Tracing the edges, you wondered what it felt like for him to run it down his strings. How it fit in his fingers.

How he was doing.

Where he was.

If he was available.

You looked at Gertrude, watching them scroll through their TikTok feed, volume up, before you stood and grabbed your purse.

“I have to go.”

Eddie watched Steve reach the very bottom of his cup, hoping there was a way for him to slip in a reason to leave. Because, holy shit, this was a piss poor excuse for a date.

He looked back over at the long line forming at the door, knowing you would die to have a cup of the wildberry lavender flavor. You were a big fan of Jeni’s Ice Cream and always gave him grief whenever he went without you. It was kind of funny how your face would screw up as you yelled at him for being a traitor. He nearly chuckled at the memory.

And it suddenly hit him that he was way more concerned with his thoughts of you.

How your date was going.

Where you were.

If you were available.

Fuck having a good enough reason to leave.

“Can we go?”

You basically sprinted to your car, barely registering how rude you had just been. You didn’t say goodbye, didn’t even give them an excuse. But you argued to, well, yourself that telling them some shitty excuse would be ruder than not saying anything at all.

All you wanted was to talk to Eddie and tell him about how awful your date was. How mean Gertrude was and how confused you were about what the hell you’d done to deserve their scrutiny.

Sighing, you scrambled into the front seat and tossed your phone onto the passenger seat. Pulling out Eddie’s guitar pick, you tried to calm yourself down. You studied the brand, the tiny tortoise outline with the shell replaced with the Tortex brand name. It read that it was a Dunlop, 50mm. Smooth. Thin. The kind Eddie always said he preferred, always said it hit the strings so magically. Said it rang out the bottom E string, like it was trying to reach the heavens and got there every time.

And there was your eyeliner, ruining it.

You shook your head, resigning to the fact that you probably should just go home and isolate yourself for a while. Try and figure out how the hell you were supposed to be normal around Eddie and Steve the next time you saw them together.

Is that how it’s going to be now? you wondered, feeling nausea pool in your stomach. Are they going to be a package deal? Is that something I could survive?

For how long?

Before you could even start your car, your phone started going off. As soon as you saw Eddie’s picture pop up, you let out a sigh of relief.

“Hey,” he breathed, sounding as exhausted as you felt.

“Hey, hello,” you replied, trying to calm yourself down. “Hi. I was actually about to call you.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah. I just had the worst date ever,” you grumbled, trying to rub the eyeliner off the pick.

“Me, too.”

You sat up straighter, shoving the pick back in your pocket. “Really?”

“God, yeah. I’m never going to Jeni’s without you again.”

“You went to Jeni’s without me?” With Steve, you felt like adding.

But you were going to be good. Just this once.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Like I said, I’m never going without you ever again.” You let out an irritated huff. “Listen, Weirdo, would you mind if I came over and we took some edibles and, like, watched a movie?”

Thank God.

“Yes, please.”

“See you in twenty?”

You smiled. “See you in twenty. Traitor.”

Eddie had gotten back to your apartment at the same time as you, both fighting for the closest parking spot with playful honks. You may have almost hit his van. And he could (maybe) admit that he almost deserved it.

“That’s rude,” he said as he hopped down from the van. “That’s just—”

He stopped as he finally got a look at you. Because it wasn’t even fair anymore, the way you just being you flustered him. Just standing next to your car with a simple Joan Jett t-shirt tucked into a short skirt and black Converse. Some sword earrings. And fishnets. Fucking fishnets.

Did he mention that you were wearing a different pair than the night before?

How many do you fucking own?

“That’s just what?” you asked, looking confused.

Eddie had to get a grip. He couldn’t keep doing this, couldn’t keep losing his focus whenever you were around. Hell, he was already losing his focus when you weren’t. When you were looking like this, it made everything worse. Much, much worse.

He shook his head before poking your shoulder. “Extremely rude.”

You rolled your eyes and swatted his hand away, starting the short walk up to your apartment. “Hey, you asked me to hang and then you tried to steal my favorite parking spot? Where are your manners?”

“I think we both know I lost those years ago.”

“Okay, weirdo,” you said.

“Uh, what did you just call me?” Eddie asked playfully, clasping his hand over his chest.

A giggle escaped your lips as you ascended the stairs, making his smile widen.

“You heard me!” you exclaimed as you quickened your pace up the steps. “And I will not be taking it back!”

The two of you bickered like always, going back and forth with seemingly no end to each bit that you started and never truly seemed to finish. Sometimes it felt like he couldn’t help himself around you, always excited to hear what you had to say or what you wanted to do. Anything you wanted, because any opportunity to be around you was an opportunity worth taking.

You decided to heat up leftover soup for you both, maneuvering around the kitchen while you complained about the weather and your upstairs neighbor who was taking all the warm water these days despite the scorching heat.

Eddie wouldn’t admit it, but he was having a hard time paying attention to your words. How could he when your hands were waving around the air and putting your hair up? How in the hell was he supposed to pay attention when you decided to run chapstick over your lips? Or when you bent down to take your shoes off, skirt riding up just enough to reveal the lining of red underwear? And how was he supposed to feel normal when you were wearing the cutest fucking socks, with black cats sporting witch hats next to a brewing cauldron?

“I’m gonna go pick out a movie,” Eddie said suddenly, backing away from the kitchen.

“Oh, yeah,” you said absentmindedly as you fiddled with the microwave. “That’s a really good idea. What’re you gonna put on?”

“No idea,” he lied. “Absolutely no idea.”

After you finished the chickpea and sausage soup, you and Eddie popped 10mg Delta-9 gummies and decided to chill on the couch. As soon as Eddie pressed play on your remote, you immediately knew it was the opening to When Harry Met Sally. Like always.

But it wasn’t like you were paying attention. If anything, you were talking over it like you were in a crowded room. Small talk here and there until you were unable to keep your questions to yourself.

“So, you said your date with Steve didn’t go well,” you said. “Do you want to maybe talk about it?”

Eddie groaned, throwing his hands over his face. You may have taken the opportunity to stare at him, how his tattoos were visible. He’d shown up in his jean jacket but discarded it as if he was taunting you with only a black tank top and jeans. His guitar pick necklace around his neck. Rings. Threaded bracelets and watch. That fucking nail polish…

Focus, you told yourself. Just focus.

“I don’t know…” he trailed, biting his lip.

“I’ll share mine if you share yours,” you suggested.

A sigh left his lips before he gave in. “He thought it was predictable that I liked black and Halloween.”

“Has he even met you?” you asked, scoffing. “Of course you do. That’s, like, your whole thing. It’s not predictable, it’s just who you are.”

“I know! It was so weird. We’ve known each other since high school. I don’t know how he didn’t know that already. Rob knows more than him, apparently.”

“She’s extremely observant,” you noted.

Too observant.

“That’s a good...observation.” Now it was your turn to groan, making Eddie laugh before he added, “Now’s your turn, Weirdo.”

Well, I couldn’t stop thinking about you the entire time. So what does that say about me?

“I got absolutely slammed for my shitty 2000s comedies.”

“But Michael Cera is a visionary…” he trailed, confused.

“Well, apparently they’re all problematic and I’m damaging our community.”

Eddie shook his head, rolling his eyes. “Whatever. So is everything else. Besides, you don’t even laugh at the bad stuff. It’s like eating around a bad food you like. It’s not like the whole plate is bad, right? Most of it’s good.”

“That’s what I’m saying!” you exclaimed, throwing your hand up. “It’s like eating at Waffle House. You know it’s not going to be the best meal you’ve ever had, but damn if those waffles don’t hit the spot every time. Especially when you’re fucked up.”

“You get it! You may be the smartest person I’ve met.”

“Or maybe the dumbest.”

“Nah, you’re pretty intelligent…when you want to be.”

“Ouch!” you said, grabbing one of your throw pillows and whacking him with it. “Take that.”

Before you could take another shot, he took the pillow from you and hit you back. “You deserved that one, Weirdo.”

You fell into gentle laughter, shaking your head at him before you sighed and leaned your head on the back cushion. Eddie readjusted, also leaning his head back so he could make eye contact with you. He wrapped his arms around the pillow, hugging it to his chest.

For a moment, you just kind of sat there and looked at him. Watched his eyes flicker back and forth between yours while you did the same. Studied the brown, the way his pupils dilated as you kept staring at each other. You couldn’t say how long that lasted before you finally said something.

“I just don’t think it’s supposed to be this hard.”

“What, dating?” he asked, tightening his grasp on the pillow.

“Yeah.”

He nodded, letting out a hum. “I don’t think so, either.”

You looked away from Eddie’s gaze to find him fiddling with the pillow’s black fringe, clearly anxious about something. It was exactly how he played with his lighter or tapped his leg. Rapid, incessant. Finding his bearings through the texture as if it could keep his attention longer than a few seconds.

And then he said your name, bringing your eyes back to his.

“Should I keep seeing Steve?” he asked.

This time you were the one readjusting, feeling yourself scoot even closer to him. Your legs were touching, the blanket seeming to slip halfway off you two. But neither of you moved to fix it.

“Does Steve make you happy?”

“I…I don’t know.” He let out a staggered breath. “I think so.”

And you tried not to, but your leg was slipping further down his calf. Blanket be damned—you were already starting to burn.

“Tell me something. Why do you always put When Harry Met Sally on?” you asked, trying to steer away from the subject of Steve Harrington. Trying to distract yourself from the heat building inside you. Trying to distract yourself from thinking something stupid. “I thought the second Lord of the Rings movie was your favorite. The Two Towers.”

He shrugged. “No, yeah. The Two Towers is my favorite. I just think I’ve just always related to When Harry Met Sally. Always missing my chances, opportunities. Always just one step away from getting what I want.”

Was Eddie getting…closer?

You raised an eyebrow. “Missing your chances?”

And why was he staring at your mouth?

“Yeah.”

But weren’t you also staring at his?

“Are you, um, Harry?” you asked, trying to keep yourself from doing something stupid. “Or are you Sally?”

Why was he so close to making you do something stupid?

“Depends on the day,” he said, softer this time.

And why was he leaning closer, searching your eyes for some kind of confirmation that this was okay?

And why were you about to let him?

“What do you want?” you asked, barely above a whisper.

Eddie didn’t answer, the hum of Meg Ryan and Billy Crystal being the only sound left in the room other than your shared breathing.

“What has she done? She makes desserts.”

It was growing heavier the closer he got to you, maybe the closest you’d ever been since you met. And it was so strange, the way he affected you.

“You all went to a Met game together?”

Your fingers reached out, searching for his. Found it on his thigh, also reaching for yours. Fingers touching, itching to twine. And it was so strange, the way he moved you.

“But Sally hates baseball.”

And there Eddie was, leaning in more and more, his breath seeming to intoxicate you the more it fanned over your face.

“Harry doesn’t even like sweets.”

But it was dangerous, the way he could break you.

His lips just barely brushed yours before you pulled back.

“No,” you said.

“What?” Eddie asked, leaning back. “Are you okay?”

All you could think about was Steve. Eddie literally just told you he was happy with Steve and then he was going to, what, kiss you? What business did he have doing that? And what business did you have being a homewrecker?

“I think you should go,” you said sternly, throwing the blanket off and standing.

Eddie looked up at you like he was confused. As if he wasn’t just trying to do something incredibly stupid.

“What? Really?”

You walked over to the opposite end of the living room, desperate to stay the hell away from him. Because there was some part of you that was wondering how stupid kissing him would really be. But maybe if you stayed as far away from him as possible, you wouldn’t be tempted. You couldn’t be.

“Yep.”

Eddie shook his head, standing. “What just happened here?” he asked. “Like, seriously.”

You shook your head. “I just want you to go, Eddie. Okay?”

“No, not okay. Jesus H Christ,” he huffed, throwing the pillow on the couch. “You can’t just kick me out and not even tell me what I’m doing wrong.”

“You should figure that one out for yourself. You’re probably too high anyway,” you said, maybe a little too bitterly.

“It was only ten milligrams,” he emphasized. “And maybe, just maybe, I need to be given some clear fucking communication.”

“You’ll figure it out.”

He gave you a hard stare. “Really? Is this really what you’re doing right now?”

“What?” you pushed. “What am I doing?”

Say it, you thought. Eddie, please just say it.

“Maybe you should figure that one out for yourself,” he mocked.

And before you could figure out how to respond, Eddie turned away from you. He stomped over to the kitchen counter, grabbing his keys and wallet before walking towards the door.

“For the record,” he said, turning back to look at you in the eye. “I’m completely sober. You of all people should know I have a high tolerance.”

Eddie opened the door and slammed it right behind him.

Eddie couldn’t stop his thoughts firing at a rapid pace as he nearly sprinted to the van. He was going to pass out, he was so sure of it this time. Hell, he was dying. He had to be dying. There was no way he was going to survive this.

The kiss. The fucking kiss. He was going to kiss you. He was actually going to do it.

Eddie’s fingers trembled as he tried to unlock the driver’s side. But the keys slipped from his fingers, clanging onto the asphalt.

“Fuck,” he whispered, barely able to fight against whatever was grabbing hold of his throat and tightening its grasp. Shaking his head, he leaned his back against the driver’s side door. “Shit.”

Eddie clutched his chest for real this time, feeling his heart race. The panic was flooding his system, tears pricking at his eyes as he tried to focus on the breeze. The white noise of it moving through the trees. The stupid fucking squirrel nearly getting run over as someone barreled through the speed bumps. Your fucking Halloween socks.

This was going wrong. All of it. Every single last scrap of dignity he had was gone. He blew it. He fucking blew it.

If he was stronger, he would turn back around and bang on your door. Demand that you talk about this and tell you how your shared avoidance was going to be the death of any and all chance at a relationship. Kiss you the way he knew he could, knew he would.

Because there was no way, no way, that nothing was happening between you two.

He knew it. You knew it.

If only he was strong enough.

And it was occurring to him that he didn’t feel this way about Steve. If anything, he could never feel this way about him. And, frankly, he was starting to truly understand that it had nothing to do with Steve. It was everyone. He would never be able to feel this way about anyone else.

This time, Eddie couldn’t shake that off.

This time, Eddie knew that something had to change.

You couldn’t help but hope he’d turn back. That he’d walk right back in and kiss you the way you knew he could, knew he would if he wanted you like that. And maybe he did want to kiss you, you couldn’t say. But why would he continue to see Steve, bringing him up in nearly every conversation if he wanted you? What would be the point of that?

You were more confused than ever, finding yourself haunted by the scene playing on the TV behind you.

“What’s the matter with me?” Sally exclaimed.

“Nothing,” Harry said softly.

“I’m difficult!”

“You’re challenging,” he countered.

You fell back on the couch, sobbing as you listened to Harry and Sally go back and forth, nearly taunting you with how fucking accurate it was. How fucking accurate everything around you was, from music to movies and back again.

“No, no, no! I drove him away!”

This was your fault, and now you had to live with those pesky little consequences you hadn’t thought of. You drove Eddie away and now you had no idea how much longer you had before he would fade into a stranger, a fever dream of what once was. And a reminder of what could’ve been.

#Eddie munson #Eddie Munson x you #Eddie munson fluff #Eddie munson angst #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x reader #best friend!eddie #modern!eddie munson #modern!eddie x reader #best friend!Eddie x reader #high tolerance series

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mistybunny · 6 months ago

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⋆˚࿔ 𝑤𝑒𝑙𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑚𝑦 𝑏𝑙𝑜𝑔 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

୨୧ 15 yrs old

୨୧ infp - scorpio

୨୧ the 6th lisbon sister

୨୧ anakin skywalkers gf (real not fake)

୨୧ started this acc to make friends / moots w the same kinda vibe as me so if u like any of these things let's be moots!!

୨୧ i love Jesus, tumblr, music, reading, blythe, the dolls, vintage dolls in general, online shopping, music, movies, reading, fashion, the 50s/60s, brandy melville, pinterest, star wars, plushies, vs secret angels, pretty little liars, 2000s media, the colour pink, sweet food, sofia coppola movies, cats, puppies, bunnies, horror, junjo ito, vintage fashion, anything french or russian, philosophy, ancient greece, and nice perfume

୨୧ fav books include; my year of rest and relaxation, twilight, virgin suicides, no longer human, the bell jar, the secret history, tomie, and uzumaki

୨୧ some of my favourite movies and shows are; pll, twilight, gilmore girls, star wars, virgin suicides, girl interrupted, princess diaries, priscilla, palo alto, speak, victorious, I rlly just love any sofia coppola/tim burton films and any good horror

୨୧ music - I like rock, classic and a little pop, some of my fav artists are lana del rey, radiohead, the smiths, deftones, david bowie, ariana grande and the cure

୨୧ aesthetics - very much a coquette girly since 2021 but I dabble in vintage and gothic styles occasionally, coquette, vintage dolls, hyper-fem, gloomy coquette, morute, dollette, 2000s movie protagonist, 60s/50s, vintage americana, 2010s tumblr girly and southern gothic r some kinda keywords I would use to describe my personal aesthetic

୨୧ posts are mainly mood boards and gifs with probably a few little rants here and there, minor tw for maybe sadish content and some horror imagery as well as a bit of religious talk

୨୧ non-denominational christian girly converting to catholicism

୨୧ dni - basic dni criteria + nsfw blogs + anyone under the age of 13

୨୧ no pictures posted are mine unless stated - dm for credit / removal

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kaifougere666 · 4 months ago

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Pinwheeler siblings headcanons bc I'm bored

(drawing by me hehe)

● As stated in my Fender headcanons in a earlier post, they are both Algerian/french

● Genderfluid Fender 🛐 He is immune to gender dysphoria too

● both of them are pansexual

● They grew up in Algeria, moved to puerto rico and lived there most of their lives, then moved to brasil for a while and then went to France

● They speak French, a not that great Portuguese, Spanish and English

● Piper's fave song is bailando-paradisio (that song is just so good)

● Piper is around 15-16 yo and Fender is like, 23 yo

● Fender is a huge fan of the anime Kill me baby

● Fender likes to take accents for absolutely no reasons

● Piper is a huge legend of Zelda fan (especially twilight Princess)

● Fender likes the music of Gilberto Gil

Those headcanons now apply to my human AU (they were robots in this AU and got transformed into humans, they can go back to robots when they want also)

● Fender wear skirts very often in summer bc of how hot it is

● Piper def tried to wax her brother's legs.. Fender didn't feel so good after XD he'd much rather shave if he has to take off hair off of his legs.. but he prefer them hairy anyway (like his armpits)

● Fender has a great sense of fashion, Piper would def steal his clothes

● Piper dresses in a typical 2000s fashion, and Fender just rocks with any style tbh, masc or fem, as long as he look fabulous ✨️🙌

#robots fender #fender pinwheeler #piper pinwheeler #robots piper #robots 2005 #robots movie #headcannons

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bnhaoptr · 2 years ago

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For My Love | Gabriel AgresteXReaderFem!Terminal Disease

∆ Hope like it

∆ Gabriel Agreste X Fem! Terminal Disease

∆ Request Are Open

∆ Warnings: Adultery, Alcohol, Heterosexuality, Sex Innuendo, Inappropriate Language, Spoilers, Violence, Action, Adventure, Drama/Tragedy, Family, Fantasy, Women's Literature, Wrestling, Magic/Mysticism, Mystery, Romantic/Shoujo, Alternate Universe

∆ synopsis: Adrien Agreste had begun dating Marinette Dupain-Cheng, leaving aside his father’s hard hand and traveled to Shanghai to open his new store. Alone in his mansion, he ends up receiving a letter from his former love, he just did not expect that the news was not the most pleasant.

∆ +2000 words

The famous Eiffel Tower was fully illuminated on the French night, as if it were the only star in the sky darker than the feathers of a crow. The Seine was bustling with boats playing jazz and some couples dancing slowly in the open gardens.

Gabriel Agreste was a young punk who worked in a small hippie tent, where he styled clothes to his style. He always had a serious face and rarely gave small smiles, as if there were no reasons in his life to express joy. Or that’s what they thought, after all, when the young [Name] appeared, Agreste could barely contain her smile.

[Name], an aspiring actress and singer, performed small shows at the renowned Moulin Rouge, enchanting everyone who attended. And that’s how the young woman ended up meeting Gabriel, the boy she saw a huge talent as a fashion designer, asking her to prepare her clothes for the presentations, in which she accepted very willingly.

The relationship of both increased and intensified, making the romantic side of the Agreste flourish. Many thought that nothing could separate them. But the fame came to the boy, who began to travel around the world and dress the most internationally renowned, then, on one of these trips, Emilie appeared in the life of the French, who lost the ground when he met her. Just as Hades did with Persephone, Gabriel took Emilie to his world, making [Name] the Minta of the relationship.

Obviously the young woman suffered with the end of their relationship, wishing she had never met him. However, seeing him happy with those who left him radiant as she could not even, made his heart join the shards, overcoming and always cheering for the joy of the couple.

Years later the cycle of a loving relationship began to flow naturally, starting with the engagement and ending with the birth of the first and only child of the most influential couple in France and the world, Adrien Agreste, the child from the eyes of her loving parents.

Unfortunately, not all romance stories have happy endings. Emilie suddenly fell ill and died soon after, leaving her husband and son helpless. Gabriel never accepted the fact of losing his wife, doing everything so that his son had the best education and that nothing was missing him, even if it meant distancing himself and putting an iron hand in that small family.

Adrien no longer accepted being manipulated and living in the torment of his confused mind due to the hard hand of his beloved father. He understood that Gabriel did all that for his own good, after all, he lost his true love too soon. However, everything existed a limit and, unfortunately, Gabriel was crossing the limits.

As soon as the son of the greatest fashion designer in Paris began to relate to Marinette Dupain-Cheng, he decided to take time off and traveled with the girl to Shanghai, using as a pretext the opening of his new store in the other country, leaving his father alone in that huge mansion in central Paris.

And again, Gabriel was alone.

Like most people who find themselves lonely, both mentally and physically, feelings of nostalgia were surrounding the designer. Almost every time he found himself remembering his punk times, where he worked alongside the Seine and dated [Nome]. Maybe if you’d stayed with her, none of that would be happening.

Recalling his former passion of youth, an inspiration for a new collection came to his mind: tight dresses on the bust part and rotated in her skirts, lots of sparkle and the colors vary black, red and gold.

Gabriel could imagine [Nome] being the main model of his new collection. When I closed my eyes, I could see her walking on the catwalks with a black lace corselet that descended to a short skirt full of ruffles detailed in crimson, her beautiful long legs would be covered with a sockpants with drawn flowers and a glowing red feather adornment in their hair. [Name] would be perfect, a real representative of one of the most famous places in Paris.

A few days passed, almost dragged, inside the private studio of the Agreste. On their tables and floors were scattered all the sketches of new clothes. In his untouchable world, in the few moments of peace, he was interrupted by the bodyguard and driver, who came to warn that a letter had arrived, but that, unlike the others, it was not from someone known or an invitation.

At the time, he just ignored and left the card lying on his desk, didn’t even look at who sent it. A few hours later, after an outbreak of shaking a line of a skirt, as soon as he sat down, he took the letter and opened it, making a tear run down the corner of his cheek and falling soon after on the yellowish paper. Gabriel would recognize in a thousand years that handwriting, after all, had not changed anything.

[...]

For my love.

Gabriel, I’ve been thinking about you for years.

Whenever I see you in the tabloids or your son’s picture, I think about writing you, but I lack the courage.

Since he married Emilie I root for his happiness and cried when I heard of her passing. I wonder what you must have gone through with your son, I know it wasn’t easy, but you’re strong.

I’m sending this message because I have a short time left and did not want to die with something choking me for so long. After all, it’s been seconds, minutes, hours, months and years that I’ve been trying to tell you what drowns my heart in a succinct and beautiful way, but what I have to say has not much to shorten.

I, [Name], have always loved you Gabriel and will always love, but I will die. And I swear, on my deathbed, I will only think of you.

Always yours, [Name].

[...]

At the end of the letter, Gabriel was in tears with tears running down his thin cheeks. Many years ago I did not feel fear, pain and anguish as I was feeling at that moment. He reread that letter several times, trying to understand what had happened and how time had escaped between his fingers.

Soon Agreste called his employees and asked them to send the best fabrics to his mansion and a manual sewing machine was quickly installed in his office. He took one of the most beautiful sketches he had there, making the mold and starting the work of cutting and sewing, for the dress that was there designed by himself.

Gabriel still had the measures of [Nome] stored in a small agenda that he kept as a memory of that time. She’d be grateful to have kept that infallible good. When he finished assembling the garment, he asked his driver to take him to the address of that letter, to then find that old passion that made the flames of his heart light up again.

His hands trembled at the moment of squeezing the bell and the cold sweat dripped all over his body. As soon as the door opened, and their eyes crossed with those of [Nome], the only thing they could do at the time was to hug each other, while tears washed away all the negative feelings that were hovering over them.

"My sweet [Name], I never forgot you".

Her hands squeezed tightly the designer’s haute couture and well-done clothes, as if that could prove to her eyes that Gabriel was there of his own free will.

"I always loved you"

She almost couldn’t talk.

[Name] was in front of him. A little thinner, deeper eyes, pale cheeks and dull hair; really, did not lavish the beauty of a healthy person, but the smile proved that it was the bold girl who always loved. Gabriel was always quite sure that the gods loved those who dared and [Nome] was one of these people, but something within her had abandoned her.

Inside the living room of [Nome’s] house were photos of her performances at the Moulin Rouge, auditorium programs she was invited to and even photos of her youth with Gabriel. There were several Affairs in the life of [Nome], but never married or joined things up with someone else, it was always just her and herself.

"There was no other man in my life, Gabriel. You were the only one".

"I feel honored. I brought you a gift".

[Nome] sat in an antique wine-tone armchair and took the large white box with a huge golden bow on top. She opened it slowly, as if her fingers did not have the strength to undo the bow, and then pulled the dress out, making her lose her words.

"As always, it’s perfect!"

She put the dress in front of her and looked at a small round mirror in her living room to see how that dress looked.

"I still had your measurements saved, this dress is unique and there will be no other".

[Name] smiled, then folded the dress and put it back in the box. She took a serious look and continued:

"I’m so sorry for Emilie, I know she was the love of her life".

"My heart is big".

"I know, but I’ll be dead in a few months. Maybe weeks".

Gabriel just turned his face and took a sip of the tea [Nome] served.

"Glad to see you again".

"You’re not gonna die, I’ll pay for whatever treatment it is".

[Nome] stood up and went to him, then hugged him strongly, as he did when he felt that Agreste was down and was returned.

"I already find myself in the palliatives".

Agreste took the hand of his passion and gave a chaste kiss.

"But we just met again".

"The journey ends with the lovers meeting. Do you remember our phrase?"

Gabriel was feeling fragile, brittle and vulnerable, things he hated to feel. If he himself were not the person who akumatized others, he would be transformed at that moment.

"Then stay with me until the end".

The designer then just quietly agreed.

From that moment on, Gabriel stopped staying in his immensely lonely mansion, even freeing Adrien and Marinette from their brotherly concerns. I was thinking a little more about you and [Nome], with which you began to spend more time, taking her for a walk in the places they walked when they were younger.

When they were still a daring punk couple.

Now they were older and with other worries, hair turning gray and less fervor of longer walks. Life did this, gradually shaping each one with their obstacles, so that when they got older, they would enjoy the little time left.

However, Gabriel had to give his arm to twist. No model looked so good in her custom-made clothes as [Nome] and when she stood in front of the city lights, which illuminated the darkest night, there was no work of art that came close.

Like fire in gunpowder, violent joys have violent ends. [Nome] was hospitalized in serious condition, causing the heart of Agreste to break again.

"Why did you fall in love with me?"

Gabriel enjoyed the moments when she was still lucid and not so tired.

"Because you’re my favorite villain".

"Am I a villain?"

"Well, it did".

He combed the hair of [Nome], who could barely lift his arms.

"You know, that attitude and punk look. I always had a preference for villains, I never liked heroes".

"May I ask why?"

She stopped for a while, fixed the oxygen catheter in her nostrils, waited a few seconds and started talking again.

"A hero would sacrifice you for the greater good, but the villain would set the world on fire to have you".

Agreste smiled, because that’s exactly what he did with the miraculous butterfly.

"Besides, the villain has a good heart and an immense love to give to those who really deserve it".

He then sat on the corner of the stretcher and smiled:

"Just know that I would do anything to have more time with you".

"I am happy to have shared more time with you these days".

That afternoon, on his last visit to the intensive care unit, [Nome] had already begun to show improvement in death. Gabriel recognized those signs from afar. Then, before leaving, he gave a small chaste kiss on his forehead and said:

"[Name], I will love you even when everyone dies and no one else remembers us, and we are nothing but stardust wandering through infinite space".

The actress who made her career in the well-known Moulin Rouge could not even answer. I was too tired to say anything, but the smile and a tear managed to express everything I had to thank his former love.

At two and fifty-two in the morning, [Name] died. Gabriel was already expecting the call, had not even slept during the night and organized everything for the last farewell of his first love.

Just as [Nome] had said, Gabriel would put the world down to bring Emilie and her back again. No matter the timelines or the sacrifices, he would bring his loves to life again.

#miraculous fanfic #miraculoustalesofladybugandcatnoir #gabriel agreste #hawkmoth #miraculous les aventures de ladybug et chat noir #gabriel agreste x reader #angst #miraculous angst

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quccnbees · 3 months ago

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( renee rapp. cis fem (?). she/her. ) - let me introduce you to a member of the eversley family, charlotte eversley is the middle daughter. they are twenty-six and are known as the queen bee to the family because they are obsessive, clever, and cruel when you get to know them, you think about legally binding contracts signed in glitter gel pen; the constant struggle between imposter syndrome and god complex but they’re still an eversley, nonetheless.

ORIGINS & FAMILY:

Name: Charlotte Alexandria Eversley

Nickname: Lottie, Lots, Char, Charlie (at your own risk)

Birthday: May 7, 1998

Place of Birth: Eversley Estate, Hampshire, England

Places Lived Since: Oxford, UK; Leiden, NL; Cambridge, US; London, UK

Current Residence: London, in a townhouse absolutely paid for by her father

Notable Family Members: Hazelnut Eversley ( child, 2 year old standard poodle ); Daphne Eversley ( twin sister, best friend ); Adrian Eversley ( older brother ); Imogen Eversley ( older sister ); Hector Eversley ( oldest brother ); Charles Eversley ( father, idolizes ); Ignes Eversley ( mother, pities )

PHYSICAL:

Faceclaim: Reneé Rapp

Height: 5’7

Build: curvy

Hair Color: blonde

Eye Color: blue

Jewelry? Tattoos? Piercings?: always wearing one of her father’s old watches, several piercings in both ears, a good amount of tattoos ( will be expanded upon )

Unique Mannerisms/Physical Habits: playing with her hair when anxious, drumming her nails, being cruel for sport

PERSONALITY:

Occupation: lawyer for her father’s company

Education: Law Degree from Oxford University, LLM from Harvard Law School

Languages Spoken: English, French, passable Dutch, Latin because she’s annoying

Positive Traits: outgoing, ambitious, dedicated, meticulous, clever

Negative Traits: obsessive, manipulative, vindictive, cruel, arrogant

Likes: iced coffee, glitter gel pens, the oxford comma, a particularly tricky legal argument, early 2000s chick flicks, singing chappell roan after three espresso martinis at karaoke

Dislikes: sloppy writing, boston as a concept, playing nice, the legal ambiguity of working for your father, birds kept as pets, losing at anything, being lied to

Aesthetic: perfectly crafted citations; falling asleep to the comforting sounds of the city; fighting dirty, because you don’t know any other way; a turning page in a silent library; your father is the worst man alive, you are his favorite daughter; the sound of expensive heels across marble lobbies; is it worse to be doomed by the narrative, or haunted by it?

HISTORY:

The fourth child, the second daughter, the older twin – she’s nearly as middle as a middle child could be. And yet she’s the one gifted a variation of her father’s name. Perhaps it's a coincidence, or Ignes merely liked the name – Lottie doesn’t know, she wasn’t fully conscious yet at the time of her naming. But it matters. It has to matter – names carry meaning, to name something is to grant it power, worth. Charlotte’s spent her entire life trying to prove herself worthy of her father’s affection and trust.

The older twin by a mere ten minutes, Charlotte comes out screaming. Daphne follows, setting the pattern for most of their lives. Charlotte is bright and bold – the sun, but not warmth: a burning, blazing pursuit of power, anger and armor in a pretty blonde package. Daphne her moon – ethereal and lovely, quiet with dark hair and dark eyes; reflecting back the brightness and burn, a guiding light in the darkness.

They are a package deal, something Lottie makes quite clear to everyone in that poison laced honey way of hers. The Queen Bee reigns with her sister close by – gaining power through a combination of charm, manipulation, and other, crueler accusations that never stick. Charlotte’s not just the popular girl – she’s also obsessive to a fault, a perfectionist who absolutely won’t accept failure. She’s naturally clever, of course, but not everything comes so easily – she just makes it look like that. Sleepless nights full of self-loathing and relentless dedication to whatever subject is giving her trouble result in near perfect marks and a lifelong tendency to dance right on the edge of self-destruction.

Perfection leads to Oxford, of course, and despite her best-efforts, Lottie’s never been all that good at numbers, so she studies the law. She loves a challenge, the intricacies and various loopholes that craft something particularly clever and weighty. Two years at Oxford, then her third year in Leiden, studying international & European law. The family business is international, so it’s the obvious choice. But it's the first time she’s away from Daphne, and it takes a toll. Daphne goes dark, but Lottie burns hotter and faster. She’s crueler – like something has been torn away and left all her edges jagged and sharp.

Daphne publishes a novel – and Lottie’s her biggest fan, bullying everyone she knows into buying a copy or two. She’s always known her sister was capable of greatness, hated anyone who dismissed Daphne’s shyness or kindness as weakness. The success of Daphne’s novel is probably the only time Charlotte’s ever let herself be truly, selflessly happy for someone else’s success. It lasts their final year at Oxford, but that’s not enough for Lottie. So she spends a year at Harvard gaining an LLM degree and a profound hatred for Boston. She returns to London, and naturally starts working for her father’s company. Here lies the biggest disconnect of Miss Charlotte Eversley’s young life – she idolizes her father, has spent her entire life living up to his name; but she’s also fought tooth and nail to prove that she deserves this position on merit, not her father’s name. She should work for an outside firm first, establish herself in the field. But he’s old, and his health is failing despite the façade they present to the public. So Charlotte falls in line, and weaponizes her beauty and cleverness against anyone who’s foolish enough to suggest she’s not earned her position.

EXTRAS:

She currently lives in a townhouse in London with her only child, a 2-year-old chocolate colored standard poodle named Hazelnut.

Chaotic bisexual

She and Daphne attended the last night of the Eras Tour LA in August, 2023 together ( 1989 tv was announced ) but then had a huge argument after the concert due to Lottie being a bitch to Daphne’s date & accusing them of only being with her for the family money. The twins have been on bad terms / estranged ever since

She loves all her siblings and would commit atrocities for them, but they are still subject to her harshest judgement ( except for Daphne up until last year ) and she’s never been one to mince words. Still – it's very much ‘only I can say that about them, I’ll ruin anyone else who dare say so.’

She is left-handed.

Her father is the only one to call her Charlie.

#eversleyintro #these are what they call hard feelings | about #this is so long and rambling

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rawiswhore · 8 months ago

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Triple H x Sunny- "Sunny So True"

Before you read this fanfiction, I want to say that while I'm fine with fem readers inserting themselves into these fanfictions, I've created my own female wrestling original character and I envision her sometimes in those self insert fanfics, including the ones where she's wearing nothing but towels, negligees/nighties and teddy rompers.

However, my wrestling original character I've imagined has brown hair piled up on top of her head and looks like French Canadian pop singer Mitsou in the "Dis Moi Dis Moi" music video, and imagining Mitsou wearing the same nighties, teddy rompers and nothing but towels like on "Three's Company" doesn't really blend well and suit her.

So I've imagined 90's WWF diva Sunny wearing nothing but towels instead---which I have seen her wear---and it suits Sunny more!

______________________________________________________________

After a year of not managing any tagteams, World Wrestling Federation manager/valet Sunny did manage a tagteam who tried making a comeback: The Road Warriors, who were now known as the Legion of Doom 2000.

It was a good thing that she managed them considering that they can have matches with other wrestling factions, including the most iconic wrestling faction of the Attitude era: D Generation X.

And it's a good thing that Sunny managed the Legion of Doom before she had to leave the WWF during the summer of 1998 considering this moment.

On a "Monday Night Raw" episode that aired in April of 1998, the Legion of Doom had a match against D Generation X, where Sunny of course was L.O.D.'s manager.

During this match, Triple H had his long hair hanging down, not to mention he hadn't yet grown facial hair yet like at the end of the month.

The highlight of this match was when Sunny had tried interrupting it by climbing on the ring's apron near a spot where Triple H was.

While she was fussing at Triple H, his hands grabbed her and pulled her over the ropes.

As he still held on to her, he squatted down on the ring and laid her on top of his knees.

One of his hands pulled the top of her skirt up exposing her panties underneath.

Many fans in the audience guessed what Triple H was going to do to Sunny when he squatted down with her and laid her on his knee.

Triple H pulling her skirt up got a pop from many male fans in the audience, many of them whistling at her.

Triple H then began repeatedly spanking her ass with one of his hands, his hand spanking both of her ass cheeks at the same time.

She screamed while he spanked her.

Whilst many male fans in the audience were aroused over Triple H spanking her, some of these fans don't know if they should be booing him or cheering him.

Jerry Lawler at the commentary was happily shrieking with a smile on his face over seeing Sunny's skirt getting pulled up, not to mention Jerry was jealous over Triple H spanking her.

However, the Legion of Doom didn't march up to Triple H surprisingly and attack him.

After Triple H was done spanking her, he roller her off of his lap, to which Sunny quickly escaped out of the ring and off of it, where she continued watching this match.

With her hands behind her back and a concerned look on her face, Sunny's hands rubbed her ass cheeks under her skirt after Triple H had spanked her.

This moment of Sunny being spanked was fan service for male fans.

#triple h #sunny #wwf #attitude era

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beautifulfaaces · 2 years ago

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Female French Masterlist

2000s

Assa Sylla

Ayumi Roux

Coline Preher

Lucie Fagedet

90s

Adele Exarchopoulos

Alba Gaïa Bellugi

Alexia Giordano

Alma Jodorowsky

Camille Razat

Emma Mackey

Jeanne Goursaud

Joséphine Berry

Keana Marie

Marilyn Lima

Zoé Marchal

80s

Ariane Labed

Clémence Poésy

Eva Green

Lydia Leonard

Poppy Corby-Tuech

Roxane Mesquida

Sonia Rolland

70s

Audrey Tautou

Ludivine Sagnier

Olga Kurylenko

Philippine Leroy-Beaulieu

60s

Julie Delpy

Kristin Scott Thomas

30s

Romy Schneider

Unknown Birthday

Alice Révérend

Chloé Dumas

Lula Cotton-Frapier

Philippine Stindel

#masterlist #masterlist female french #2000s fem french #90s fem french #80s fem french #70s fem french #60s fem french #30s fem french

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rewritingcanon · 2 years ago

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teddy and victoire headcanons because they are such an ‘it’ couple to me:

fairytale sort of love

like teddy would transfigure themselves to look like a prince when they were super young because then vic would get upset at him because how could they be a prince whilst she couldn’t be a princess? and then teddy would just say ‘but you’re already a princess vic’ and yeah. literal disney-like childhood friends to lovers

when teddy went away to hogwarts for the first time victoire was absolutely distraught, and even more so when she found out out he’d been sorted into hufflepuff because she was convinced she would be in gryffindor since she’s a weasley (surprise! she wasn’t!) and got immense separation anxiety

so everyone knew they would get together and that it was only a matter of time, and fleur, being the romanticist she was, was obsessed with teddy.

like if victoire brought any other person back home fleur would be polite but there was always that hint of coldness towards them because why aren’t they the golden-hearted punk enby vic’s been so clearly in love with since she could process what love was????

teddy and fleur are like that rough, has a cracked tooth, part time tattoo artist who constantly smells like nicotine and the pristine middle aged french woman who has casually acheived milestone successes in her youth and always has her hair and makeup done pair and they just binge watch sad, terribly-written romance films together because they are both extremely sensitive and LOVE cliches

also they do each others makeup and victoire gets very sheepish about it sometimes

victoire and teddy were both heartthrobs at school and they had major game, so they didn’t have much trouble getting partners. suprisingly enough they were never that toxic ‘seething-with-envy’ pair of friends. they were actually quite supportive of one another, if not confused at why they got sad sometimes when seeing the other with someone else

james will claim he found out first that vic and teddy were in a relationship, but it was actually dominique, who is leagues better at keeping secrets.

victoire is high strung perfectionist and teddy is a concentrated chaotic mess, but instead of it being a peeve to each other, they simply balance each other out

teddy used to have dreams of victoire leading up to the moment they realised they were in love with her, and sometimes would wake up morphed as her and become incredibly confused (having gender identity issues was not helping their situation)

teddy gets victoire into philosophy, victoire gets teddy into curation. no one ever thought they’d see the day where either things were possible

victoire has an incredibly grumpy designer persian cat called Camille and she only has a soft spot for her and teddy

after a really long and stressful day at work (victoire’s a sub manager in st mungos), teddy will take down vic’s ponytail, and gently brush her hair out as she relaxes on the couch.

teddy is just overall being great spouse material, i could go on about this point by i would have to make a seperate post

its the tattooed blue-haired bruised-knuckles punk x preppy pastelle pink 2000s fem aesthetic couple

its staying up in your room painting your nails or flipping through an old magazine with your cracked phone crammed between your face and shoulder at night as you slowly fall in love with your lifelong best friend over the phone, and you don’t even know it, because this had been going on for years.

teddy fell first, victoire fell harder

this is a couple that wears big chunky platforms and sleek shiny heeled shoes ONLY

teddy is a huge flirter whilst victoire tends to get flustered more easily, but their dynamic switches when it comes down to each other, making victoire the flirty one and teddy the shy one

victoire’s love language is acts of service, teddy’s is all five because he’s perfect (words of affirmation mighttt just top however)

that’s all because this post is already so long. lmk and request if anyone wants hcs on any other couples!

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naoko-world · 3 years ago

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Naoko's fanfics masterlist

Hello! It's Naoko! I'm french and I'm writing fanfictions for years. I actually started as a teen after discovering anime and paused it in a really long time. I continued to write some OS for my best friend with our OCs though because she's my number 1 fan (we even met like that).

I figured I should do a masterlist of my works! A masterlist divided in three parts : those in french, those in english, and drabbles/ficlets that I post of Tumblr. Those parts are divided in subparts with the fandoms.

I then divided my ficlet/drabble as "old format" vs "new format" because at some point I discovered it was generally better to include the replies in the paragraphs. And I decided to change Bruno's fangirl format to this one so now it only concerns my drabbles and ficlets.

Just know that I'll spare you my cringe fics!

Fics in english:

Encanto

Bruno's fangirl (Bruno madrigal x fem!reader/OC) (Reader has a name and I don't use you) - Completed and rated G

fluff / humor / light angst / no smut / Isekai

While Mirabel is in a bad posture, because of Dolores starting to spread the information about her finding Bruno's vision, her cousin hears someone entering the house. Gone to check who it is, Mirabel discovers a woman wearing strange clothes she saw earlier at the town.

And that woman seems to be interested by Bruno.

A new miracle (Bruno x fem!reader/OC) (Bruno's fangirl's sequel) - oneshot rated G

Domestic fluff / humor / Pregnancy

The Marvelous Mayhem of the Madrigals Minds - Ongoing and rated G

"Now," continued Alma, clearing her throat. "Which one of you may be pregnant?"

Perlita’s eyes widened, suddenly reminding what she had forgotten: Jared Bush said that, when a Madrigal child is expected, a door will start to cook. Too stunned to answer right away, she looked at her family as Alma was being replied by Julieta, "Mamá, Pepa and I can't have kids anymore. It can't be us."

"Not me either," claimed Dolores while Pepa was nodding. "I didn't see Mariano at all for three days."

Eventually, they all turned to her, who turned to Bruno as she was realising it can only be them. He probably did too, since he suddenly fainted with a gasp.

Fluff & Angst / attempt at humor / no smut or incest / Original female character of color / Therapy

When a therapist meets the Madrigal family and gives up her vacation to help them feel better.

Mirabel into the Brunoverse - Completed, rated M

Halloween fic/injury/corpse/violence/Mourning/Guilt/Blood

A door suddenly appeared inside Casita, letting some alternate versions of Bruno enter the house, all immediately renamed by the family. But it also permitted a more villainous one to enter, named Evil Bruno.

To beat him they must find the Great Alejandra, the amazing founder of the Encanto in most worlds.

Lovers for a day (and beyond) (Bruno x GN!reader) - Oneshot, completed

Aangst & Fluff/hanahaki disease/drunken flirting/Bruno has self-worth issues

The day after a party, Bruno wakes up to find you, his crush, in the courtyard, claiming he's your boyfriend. In front of his amnesia due to alcohol, and his hesitation, you suggests him to go out with you during one day, and decide at the end of it if he wants to continue.

Drabbles/Ficlets (under 2000 words) (On tumblr and on Ao3):

Encanto

My Bruno x Reader ficlets list

Ficlets and drabbles linked to Bruno's fangirl

Encantober ficlets and drabbles list

Old format

Bruno and El Ratoncito Pérez

1017 words

Fluff

During dinner, Antonio is upset because of other children laughing to him for keeping believing in El Ratoncito Pérez. Bruno does his best to preserve his faith.

Duérmete mi niño

406 words

Fluff

Antonio can't sleep. It's up to Mirabel then to help him with a lullaby.

Julieta can't heal

607 words

Fluff with angst

Julieta Madrigal is the healer of the town, the one we can count on when we’re hurt or sick. But this time she can’t heal a teen’s broken arm.

New format

Isabela is born

8121 words

Fluff/light angst

On that day of August 7, Julieta Madrigal gave birth to the very first Madrigal grandchild, Isabela. Here is the story of how everyone was so excited and hopeful for what will be the golden child.

Dolores is born

1362 words

Fluff/Angst (at least I tried)

A hurricane is ravaging the Encanto, but Félix is the happiest he could ever be! He's now the dad of the prettiest little girl he ever saw! What could ever upset him?

The Madrigals' vendetta

657 words

Blood and violence

Julieta discovers Bruno dead in his vision cave, killed by a townsperson. Thus, the entire family decides to apply their revenge on the townspeople.

Who did the prank?

Fluff/attempt at humor/arguing/pranks

931 words

Mirabel got down the stairs to find Camilo surrounded by his parents, her parents, Isabela and their Abuela Alma. Feeling curious, she approached to hear him whining, “I did nothing! I swear!”

Camilo's fangirl (a Camilo x fem!reader request I could hardly refuse)

309 words

Reader likes to fangirl secretly on Camilo, until she got accidentally caught by him

Crossovers

Mirabel's mission

Autistic Mirabel AU/Fluff

2550 words

Seeing how tired her tío was as he's overwhelmed by the visions requests, Mirabel decided to help him. Her solution ? Helping the townspeople with their problems without looking into the future!

Old format

The seer meets the flower (Tangled/Encanto Crossover)

946 words

No warning, platonic.

Bruno wakes up in a room with a headache. But he’s not alone.

New format

The Madrigal sisters (an inspired Hocus Pocus fic)

Luisa, Mirabel, Camilo and Antonio décided to reunited in a shed to tell scary stories. Mirabel decided to talk about The Madrigal sister's.

Pepa at Smileyland (Encanto/Kaeloo)

1614 words

No warning

Pepa feels awful. She thought she was doing a good deed by letting things on the streets but it's actually pick up by someone who put them to the trash.

But, all of a sudden, a vortex appeared in her room leading her to Le pays trop mignon/Smileyland.

Fics in french:

Encanto

La fangirl de Bruno (Bruno madrigal x fem!reader/OC) (La lectrice a un nom et je n'utilise pas de vous/tu) - En cours

fluff / humour / léger angst / pas de smut / Isekai

Alors que Mirabel est en mauvaise situation à cause de Dolores qui commence à propager l'information qu'elle a trouvé la vision de Bruno, sa cousine entends une personne entrer. En allant voir Mirabel y découvre une femme habillée étrangement qu'elle a vu plus tôt au village.

Et cette femme semble très intéressée par Bruno.

Haikyû

Pas si simple (Kageyama Tobio x Hinata Shoyo) - Terminé en 3 chapitres

Fluff / pas de smut / yaoi

D'abord rivaux, puis amis, Kageyama et Hinata préparaient le tournoi départemental de Volley lorsque Nishinoya et Asahi demandèrent à voir toute l'équipe. Ils avaient quelque chose à révéler. Cette révélation va amener Kageyama à réfléchir à sa relation avec Hinata. Pourrait-il être homosexuel ?

My little Pony

A cheval sur ses principes (On wattpad) - OS

Humour / Isekai

Alex déteste My Little Pony. Vraiment, cette série et le fandom qui s'est développé autour la dégoûtent, surtout le fandom. Mais quand elle rencontre une sorcière qui l'envoie dans le monde de My Little Pony tout change et elle doit trouver le moyen de retrouver sa vie normale. En plus elle ose avoir été transformée en poney ! Ou pas... Mais qu'est-elle devenue ?

#fanfic masterlist #fanfic masterpost #Naoko fics #encanto #encanto fic #bruno x reader #bruno x oc #my little pony #haikyû #french #english #Bruno's fangirl #kagehina #bruno madrigal #my fics #my fic #drabble #ficlet #my writing

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gayerthanevertbh · 2 years ago

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the older!natasha x fem!reader fic that gives off “call me by your name” will be set in vigan, philippines around the 2000s. reader’s family is fairly wealthy and they travel all around the world, specifically in france. natasha is a journalist for the reader’s father and throughout the summer they stay in vigan.

though this could be changed, i thought setting it in the philippines because it’s my country. but i’m also thinking setting it in france since the title is in french. I DONT KNOW OKAY

#a rants lmao !

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shmaptainwrites · 4 years ago

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𝐄𝐋 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐔 𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐔 [𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐌𝐔𝐓 𝐙𝐄𝐌𝐎]

PAIRINGS — Helmut Zemo x fem!reader [pre-ultron]

SUMMARY — Helmut meets an intriguing stranger on a beach in France and is determined to make sure their lives stay connected

WARNINGS — major character death, angst, sadness, it's happy until it's not (also not a warning but chou chou is pronounced shoo shoo)

NOTE — okay guys I said I wasn't gonna do it and I did and I have ideas for more sjsjsjs I'm so sorry also I know in the canon-verse Zemo's son's name is Carl, but I changed it to fit with the plot I wrote. Also the reader is 'French' but doesn't have to be considered white (just grew up in France) :)

August 2000

The first time you met Helmut Zemo was something one might peg as unusual. Especially since the young Baron really shouldn't have been wandering around the unfamiliar town alone, without the knowledge of his mother or father, but he figured he'd have a chance to ask for their forgiveness, but the chance to go to the warm beaches of southern France on a day like this? That chance wouldn't come for another little while.

He found a nice empty spot, slightly tucked away from the crowds of people where he could easily lay down a blanket and open a book (or three) and listen to some music. He preferred classical while he was reading.

The sun beating down on his back was relaxing, that warm feeling that would spread from where the sun hit to every extremity, transporting you to another place, perhaps the location of where the story he was reading was taking place, but who knew.

Only a brief fifty pages in (it was a Dan Brown novel, the pages were small and quite easy to flip through), he heard a muffled voice, saying something that sounded an awful lot like excusez moi.

Zemo looked up and was met with a smile and bright (e/c) eyes. He lowered his headphones from his ears, almost unconsciously reciprocating the smile you were giving.

"Pardon monsieur, est-ce que ça vous dérangerait si je m'assois ici?"

He blinked a few times, shaking out of his daze,

"I-I'm so sorry," he apologized. "My french is.. Um térrible?" he attempted to say and you gave him a small laugh.

"Don't worry, you try, that's all that matters. I was just asking if you would mind me sitting here," you pointed to the empty patch of sand next to him. "I normally come here to read, it's further away from the crowds,"

"O-Of course," he nodded. "Seems we had the same idea,"

He held up his book and you smiled, pulling yours out of your bag, but as it would have turned out, not one minute of your time on the beach was spent reading. Instead you were deeply engrossed in conversation with this foreign man, speaking of his country, Sokovia, a beautiful place from what he told you, so lively with its people, so full and rich with culture.

You weren't sure how many hours had passed when you heard the frantic call of a man and a woman, running up to you both, cursing in their mother tongue, hearts filled with worry.

Zemo quickly stood up and spoke to the couple, calming them down and requesting that they give him a moment from what you could tell.

He came back to you and took your hands in his, staring deeply into your eyes.

"I'm afraid I must leave," he confessed. "But this time that I have spent here with you, it is one that I will cherish,"

"Will I ever see you again?"

You knew it sounded cheesy the minute you said it, but that didn't stop it from leaving your mouth.

"I don't know," he admitted honestly. "So for now we can say à la prochaine ma chérie,"

You found yourself quietly repeating the goodbye while he lifted your hands to his lips, pressing a delicate kiss to them before taking one last look into your eyes and turning around to walk with the couple who continued to scold him like he was a young child and not an adult himself.

And much contrary to your thinking, that was not the last time you would see the man who you would eventually come to learn was Helmut Zemo.

—

November 2000

It was a long shot, sure, but he had to try. Four months and he couldn't get those (e/c) eyes off his mind.

He had packed his bags already, sitting antsy on the plane, just waiting for it to take off and bring him back to Nice. Back to you.

It took less than an hour to get there and as soon as he touched the ground he ran out of the airport and back to the old city quarter.

He didn't expect to find you at the beach, definitely not at this time of year, but maybe a cafe, or a bookstore. He was working with a gut feeling and for now he just had to trust it.

After briskly walking through the streets, checking any store that looked like it sold books, peeking his head into small corner cafes and even looking down alleyways things were not looking up. It was getting dark and he was going to call it in for the night, afterall, who would be out this late, when suddenly he heard a quiet gasp. So faint if it weren't already dead silent in the street he would have missed it.

The click of boots against the cobblestone was distinct and when he spun around to meet the sound he came face to face with bright shining hopeful eyes. The same eyes from that day on the beach.

"You came back," you whispered, a smile dancing across your lips.

"Of course. I had to see you again,"

"You don't even know my name," you chuckled lightly.

"And you don't know mine, what difference does it make? I came here for you, not for your name,"

"I would like to call you something though, and I have a feeling there's something you're holding back. Is there a reason you don't wish for me to know what to call you?"

He carefully slipped his hands in yours, the only difference from that day back in August was the lack of summer heat and the mittens that protected your fingers from the cold.

"I worry that you may look at me differently. Rather like a title than just a person," he confessed.

"And yet you tell me these things because you know that can't be true," you said without a falter in your tone. "You wouldn't have said that if you didn't trust me,"

"Let me hear your name first," he said.

"It's (Y/N)," you smiled. "(Y/N) (L/N),"

You said your name like it was nothing special but you didn't care because you loved it. He liked that.

"Now your turn," you said softly, lifting a gloved hand to carefully move a few strands of hair out of his face.

"Helmut Zemo,"

You knew the name, it was something most people in Europe recognized at least. But he didn't want attention drawn to it so you wouldn't draw attention to it.

"I like that name," you nodded. "I like it very much,"

"Really?' he asked with a quiet laugh.

"Yes, it sounds French," you teased.

Glancing over at the clock tower you noticed the late hour and turned your face back to his in inquiry.

"Do you have a place to stay tonight?" you asked.

"I could," he nodded. "It would be quite easy for me to get a hotel, but I currently do not have one,"

"Then stay with me," you suggested. "You don't wish for me to think of you as different, then come, prove to me you're not different,"

And without a moment's hesitation he let you take his hand, guiding him out of the dark alley and towards an old building, repurposed as apartments.

Definitely a different pace than what he was used to. The private jets, the manors, the estates, but that didn't matter. No, it never mattered with you.

—

May 2002

Going to Zemo's house was definitely not what you had imagined. Even though you had prepared yourself for his family's wealth and riches that did not compare to what you were met with.

"I can't believe I haven't been here yet," you looked around curiously at the old art hanging from the walls.

"I'm sure you can see why that's been the case," he shrugged nonchalantly.

"El I'm your best friend I don't care if you live in a manor or a box, now come on, take me to the library we both know that's what you really want to show me,"

"H-How did you know there was a-,"

"Just a hunch," you grinned, linking your arm with his and allowing him to lead you down the large hallway until you reached two french doors, spanning from the floor to the ceiling, opening one and slipping in with much ease.

You gasped at the sight before you, books lining every shelf, and every inch of the wall was covered. it was like a maze, but the best kind because you could also get lost in words.

"I'm assuming you want to stay here and pick something out to read don't you," he chuckled.

"Could we?" you asked. "There's so many to pick from,"

"Half of them are in Sokovian so it narrows down your search a bit," he shrugged.

"Half of a million is still five-hundred-thousand," you retorted and walked further into the library, grazing your fingers across one shelf and picking up a random book and sitting on one of the colonial era couches.

Zemo only chuckled at your comfort with the place, of course there were books and if there were books you'd be at home.

"Haven't you read that one already?" he asked, taking a seat next to you.

You nodded. "Seems as though the fates wished for me to read it again," you shrugged. "Plus it's a favourite, I would have gotten around to it some time or another."

"Of course you would have," he playfully rolled his eyes.

It was probably about a half an hour before he started to get fidgety, frequently changing his seating position and flipping through books, but not reading them.

"'Elmut what do you want?" you asked quietly, your eyes never leaving the words on the page.

He loved the way you said his name, it was the only time your accent ever really showed, but those h's would always be a struggle (not that he minded).

"Well clearly you want something," you closed the book and placed it to the side. "Come on, what is it?"

"Your attention?" he said with a cheeky smile and you scoffed with a chuckle, waving him off, moving to grab your book when he grabbed you by your sides, tickling you mercilessly and preventing you from reaching any further, squirming and laughing under his grasp.

"El! Arrête!" you squealed, falling with your back to the couch, his bright smiling face looking down at your own.

Finally he stopped and your laughter gently faded, noticing the way he was looking at you. Eyes sparkling with admiration, like there was nothing else in the world he'd rather look at then your smiling face.

But you felt the exact same so when he leaned down you didn't stop him, letting his lips gently fall on your own, his smooth uncalloused hands gently holding your face, bringing you up closer so he could really kiss you, like he meant it.

It felt like that burning feeling of the sun shining on his back back on the beach in Nice, but the fire was in his heart and it was spreading through every artery and vein. He was Icarus and you were the sun.

The look in his eyes when he pulled away, seeing your smile grow, tenfold if possible and the words left his mouth before he had a moment to think.

"Marry me?"

"Marry you?" you chuckled. "'Elmut isn't that a bit premature?"

"We've known each other long enough, I spend every spare second I can with you. My parents-they love you, I just... Will you marry me?" he asked again, like he was more sure of the question.

You bit your lip, taking his face in your hands and nodding your head.

"Yes, I'll marry you,"

He firmly pressed his lips to yours again, over and over again, like he was making up for all the time he could have been doing that.

"El!" you said, your voice muffled through the kisses. "Are you going to let me get up?"

"Right," he chuckled nervously, helping you sit back up on the couch before kissing you once more. "Sorry," he apologized. "I couldn't help myself,"

"It's okay the feeling is very much mutual," you grinned. "Now come on, I think we have some news to share,"

—

September 2003

Although Zemo knew your marriage was the happiest moment of both your lives, he also knew that becoming accustomed to the life of a Baroness was something that would take time. The dinners, galas, special outings with connected people, at times it could be overwhelming, but he'd be lying if he didn't say you were doing it well.

Even though you were born to a middle class family that could be found down on their luck on occasion, it was almost like you were meant for the life that came with your marriage. He had never met anyone as elegant, graceful, or poised as yourself, and yet always ready and willing to help others, able to sympathize and empathize with them.

He never wished for the spotlight to be on you, but you insisted on being right there by his side, never complaining, always with that same smile on your face.

"(Y/N) my dear, looking ravishing as always," the elder Zemo grinned, pulling his daughter-in-law into a warm embrace, kissing her cheek.

"Papa you always flatter me," you chuckled. "Have you seen El by any chance? We were supposed to go for a walk in the city today,"

"I believe he was out by the door. But please be careful when you go out there, things are getting tense I don't want either of you getting hurt,"

"The people don't have any quarrel with us, trust me. And we want to help, I'm sure we'll be able to do some good today,"

"You're an angel my dear," he gave you a soft smile and held your hand, bringing it to his lips for a sweet kiss. "Now go find your husband, he's probably waiting for you,"

"Of course," you nodded, walking in the direction of the front doors of the manor seeing Zemo sitting on one of the benches, lacing up his Italian leather shoes. "Fine taste as usual," you chuckled.

"There you are," he smiled, looking up at you. "I was wondering when you were going to come join me,"

"I got caught up talking to Papa," you explained and he nodded, smiling quietly to himself when he heard the endearing pet name for his father. Not even he called him anything of the sort, but you were just that way with people, forming a special bond and relationship wherever you went.

"Alright, I'm ready," he stood up and came over to you pressing a soft kiss to your lips. "And goodmorning, it's been a while since we've spent time,"

"And whose fault is that?" you asked, crossing your arms. "Oh it's just one meeting my darling, I'll be back soon," you mimicked your husband and he shook his head, taking your hand in his and walking out of the door and to the car that he would drive into the city where you planned to take your walk.

While you were driving down the smoothly paved streets Zemo looked at you, tilting his head slightly.

"Would you like to go visit the orphanage today?" he asked.

"Could we?" you asked. "It's been a while, I'd love to spend some time with the children,"

"Of course," he nodded, taking your hand in his and holding it in his lap while he kept his eyes on the road, now aware of what your destination would be. "I love you chou chou you know that right?"

You nodded, straightening out your dress and coat.

"I love you too El," you gave him a thin-lipped smile. "My Baron,"

"Don't forget that when the news calls you to come in for an interview hein?" he joked and you chuckled as he pulled into the parking space out of the old slightly run down building.

"Do you think there's any way we can help refurbish the place?" you asked.

"Are you really going to make me spoil a surprise I had planned for you?" he asked, stepping out of the car and shutting the door behind him, resting his arms on the roof and placing his chin on top of them.

"A surprise? El now you have to tell me," you gasped playfully.

"It was going to be your Christmas present. I bought a piece of land and we're building a new orphanage there,"

You couldn't help yourself, running over to his side of the car, while he turned to face you and pulled him in for a firm kiss, like a thank you, only that was interrupted by one of the matrons speaking in Sokovian.

"Baron Zemo? Madame Baroness, we weren't expecting you today,"

You quickly pulled apart, gingerly wiping your lips and staring down at the ground in embarrassment.

"It wasn't planned Miss, please don't worry too much," Zemo assured her. "The children though, would they enjoy a visit?"

"Of course, they always look forward to seeing the both of you," she nodded, opening the door wider and allowing them to come inside.

You had been here plenty of times before, already familiar with the place and knew every turn like the back of your hand.

"Madame Baroness you came back!" a child exclaimed, speaking in his mother tongue which with the many hours of free time you had on your hands were starting to become fluent in, running up to your feet and tackling you in a hug.

"What do you mean? Of course I did Alexi," you chuckled, squatting down despite your high heeled shoes and ruffling the boy's hair, pulling him in for a proper hug. "Now why don't you go grab the others and let's see if I can get the Baron to read you a story,"

The boy nodded his head and ran off to go gather some of the children who were scattered around various rooms while you looked up at your husband.

"Would you read them one?" you asked. "I can speak the language alright but we both know my reading needs work,"

"You don't even have to ask, my love, and we can practice later," he nodded.

"Wonderful," you smiled, standing up and helping Alexi settle down and gather the rest of the children. You saw two teens, the twins, helping a few of the younger children, but staying off to the side. "Wanda, Pietro," you gave them gentle smiles. "Come on, we want you here with us too,"

They meekly came over and sat next to you as instructed while your husband picked out a book to read.

"I know they're children's stories but we can all enjoy them sometimes no?"

Wanda nodded and smiled at you while you put an arm around her shoulder.

"You're a very beautiful young girl Wanda I think you're going to grow up and do big things,"

"R-Really?" she asked, almost surprised.

"Yes, really," you poked her shoulder lightly. "Mark my words, you're a special one,"

Spending time with the children at the orphanage was like seeing your second family and you always dreaded having to leave them.

You wanted families for all of them, places they could call home with people to love them unconditionally.

But after leaving there it always got you thinking about your own life. Where you wanted it to go and what you wanted to happen.

"'Elmut?" you asked softly, glancing up at your husband while you walked the quiet streets downtown.

"Yes my darling?" he hummed.

"What do you think about children? For us, I mean. Would you... Do you want children?"

There wasn't a moment of hesitation when he nodded his head,

"Do you?"

"I think I do, yes," you nodded. "Maybe we should start trying?"

"I think that's an amazing idea," he agreed.

"Another Baron, someone to carry on the line," you joked knowing very well he didn't care for that type of thing. His family was far from traditional in quite a few ways.

And suddenly for the first time in a while on your walk you talked about something other than the endless meetings and social gatherings that required your attendance. All that mattered was your growing family and a new addition that would hopefully make an appearance soon.

—

December 2005

"What's his name?" the children asked, hovering around you, trying to catch a glimpse of the sleeping baby.

"Henri," you told them, making sure they each got a turn to see him.

Zemo even had one kid on each hip, peering down from over top.

"The same name as my father," you explained to them. "In French we spell the name with an H but we say it like on-ree,"

"Baron Zemo isn't your given name Helmut?" Pietro asked and he nodded.

"I told her we didn't need another H name she couldn't say, but she wouldn't listen," he joked and you lightly slapped his arm.

"Je t'ai dit qu'on ne prononce pas les H, ce n'est pas ma faute," (I told you we don't pronounce the H's, it's not my fault!)

"I know, I'm only teasing," he assured you.

He still loved the way you'd say his name. That would never change.

"Now that you have a baby will you come less?" Nikola asked, looking up somewhat sadly at you.

"For a little while I'm afraid so," you nodded. "But when Henri gets older we'll bring him back so you can play with him,"

"But who's gonna read us stories if you go?" Carmen asked, directing her attention to the Baron.

"Well Pietro here can make sure you guys have your stories until we can come back more often, huh?" he suggested.

"You know it won't be the same sir," Pietro chuckled.

"It's alright, you've listened to them enough I'm sure you can imitate me by now,"

"Just let me borrow one of your coats and we're golden,"

"Pietro!" Wanda scolded and nudged her brother in the stomach.

"No, no it's alright. That was funny, you keep cracking jokes like that, it can get gloomy in here,"

"Yes sir," Pietro nodded.

Henri started to rustle and Zemo quickly put the two children he was holding down to take his son from you, gently bouncing him up and down and trying to coerce him into going back to bed.

"You know he's not going to go back to sleep unless he sees his grandfather," you smoothed out your skirt and stood up. "So I'm sorry, but I think this means we have to go,"

"It's okay, it's only for a little while," Wanda assured the children. "They'll be back. they always come back,"

You nodded at that with a smile and blew kisses to the little ones, leaving out the front of the two year old facility.

There were a few cameras, the media wanting a sneak peek at the new baby, but you were thankful it wasn't overwhelming. It had only been a few weeks and you were still trying to get used to things.

Henri was clipped safely in the back seat and you went to sit with him while Zemo drove back to the estate, his father anxiously awaiting your return in the dining room.

"There's my little Henri," he grinned, taking the baby from your arms and rocking him back into a calm state like he was some sort of magician.

"How do you do that Papa?" you asked curiously. "El and I try so hard to get him down sometimes but you just come in and voilà!"

"Well if you're looking for someone to blame look more further than right there," he pointed to his son whose eyes only grew wide. "Helmut was the fussiest baby, refused to sleep,"

"And still does sometimes," you jabbed.

"Anyways, practice makes perfect. You'll get a hang of it soon enough and before you know it you'll be doing the same for your grandchildren," he explained. "Now why don't you both get some rest you look exhausted. I'll take care of this one for the next little bit,"

"Thank you Papa," you sighed gratefully, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek before heading up to your bedroom with your husband.

No matter what anyone would say, you would always agree that the best feeling was taking off the slightly uncomfortable expensive clothes at the end of a long day and toss them to the side on the couch and curl up in something warm and fuzzy (on occasion one of Zemo's sweaters would do the trick, this being one of them).

"I just want to sleep," you yawned, flopping onto the large, plushy bed, not noticing your husband was already buried under the pillows.

"Ow," he chuckled lightly and you apologized, moving slightly but allowing him to hold you close, pressing a long soft kiss to your lips. "I love you chou chou,"

"Is that the only French thing you're gonna learn how to say?" you asked skeptically.

"Who knows maybe one day I'll learn more, but for now I think chou chou is enough," he yawned.

"Whatever," you mumbled, tucking your face in the crook of his neck, resting comfortably and not wasting even another second before drifting off into the most restful sleep you'd had that month.

—

March 2011

"El? Are you in here?" you asked knocking on the door to his office, the door clicking as you carefully opened it.

"Hmm? Do you need something (Y/N)?" he asked, looking up from the papers in front of him.

"No, but is it too early to go to bed?" you asked unclipping your earrings and placing them on the table on the far wall before slipping off your shoes and tossing them aside.

"It's only three in the afternoon," he chuckled, watching you curiously as you came closer to him. He pushed his chair away from his desk and you sat yourself down on his lap, laying your head against his chest.

"I know, but I had to do a lot of running around today,"

"Won't Henri be home from school soon?" he asked.

"He should...can you wake me up when he gets here? I'm just going to close my eyes," you said your voice becoming more drowsy as you went on.

"Just rest my love," he pressed a kiss to your head and held you with one arm while the other continued to scribble down notes from the books he was reading.

Not even ten minutes later he could hear the patter of small feet running around u gil they finally slowed down and the door peaked open and a small tuft of brown hair became visible.

"Papa can I come in?" Henri asked and Zemo nodded, motioning for his son to come closer with his free hand. He climbed up on the seat across from his desk and, as per his usual routine grabbed the coloured pencils he left there and started to draw a picture on the notepad.

"Did you have a good day at school?"

"Uh huh," he nodded his head. "Why is mama sitting in your lap,"

"She's just tired," he whispered. "What are you drawing today?" he asked, leaning forward and examining the paper.

It seemed to be a photo of your family, down by the beach on a sunny day.

"Mama said one day she's going to take me to France and we can go to the beach,"

"The beach, of course!" he nodded. "And maybe your grandfather can teach you how to swim,"

Henri grinned and agreed, eagerly finishing up his drawing and looking up at the jar of candies on his father's desk. Zemo always had a sweet tooth and that definitely was passed onto your son.

"Papa, can I have a candy?" he asked, pouting his lower lip and pointing to the jar. He really knew how to get what he wanted.

"Don't tell your mother," he said softly, opening the glass container and pulling out a few wrapped candies to hand to Henri when you gently stopped him by laying a hand on top of his own.

"Only one El, we have to eat dinner soon," you murmured and he conceded with a nod, handing the candy to Henri who popped it into his mouth before dropping down out of the seat and coming over to you, pressing a gentle sweet kiss on your cheek as a thank you. "I love you mon p'ti," you whispered, eyes fluttering open while you fixed your son's messy hair.

"I love you too mama," he grinned.

"Turkish delight?" you asked and he nodded. "You and your father and all these candies. What am I going to do with you,"

"Don't listen to her Henri," Zemo chuckled, quickly grabbing a few more candies and putting them in his hand, "Quick run! I'll keep her here,"

Henri ran out of the room in a fit of childish giggles, no doubt going to find his grandfather who would protect him at all costs.

"El! I'm going to kill you!" you tried to squirm out of his hold but he only laughed, holding you tighter and silencing your complaints with a firm kiss. "He's not going to eat a proper dinner 'Elmut," you whined, your voice muffled by his lips on yours.

"He's only a kid once, let the boy have some fun, my love,"

"Fine," you grumbled.

"Come on, I can make it up to you I promise," he assured.

"Keep talking Zemo, we'll see if you can sweet talk your way out of this,"

"I'll take the weekend off," he started. "My father can look after Henri and it could be just you and me in the middle of the Austrian Alps with nothing but each other to keep us warm,"

"If you think the cold mountains sound appealing-,"

"(Y/N) there's a cabin I didn't mean-oh forget it," he laughed. "Come on, it's been a while since we've had a getaway, just the two of us,"

"You mean six years?"

"Yes, I mean six years, so come on, and you'd have me all to yourself," he hummed into your ear, cheekily biting your lobe.

"El that tickles," you giggled, squeezing your head against your shoulder. "But that does sound nice,"

"See I knew I could get to you,"

"Oh hush, and you better not back out on your word,"

"Trust me chou chou I wouldn't dream of it. Never in a million years,"

—

May 2015

"I need you to take me to the airport, now!"

"Baron Zemo-,"

"I said now!" he exclaimed.

Never in his life had he been this curt, but these were dire circumstances. The situation back home had escalated way beyond what anyone would have thought could have ever happened.

He didn't even have time to process the constant news he was hearing. The constant bings and vibrations of his phone he couldn't even bear to look at it, tossing it to the side.

He couldn't sit still while the private plane flew from Germany back to the outskirts of Sokovia where it was safe.

A car was already there waiting for him driving him back to the estate.

It was on the edge of the city, the chance that they would be affected was slim to none. You'd be okay. Henri would be okay.

But when he pulled up to the estate, what he saw was not what he expected, or needed.

Right through the middle of the estate was a tear where the city had been ripped from the ground and into the sky.

"No, no, no," he shook his head, shutting the car door and looking at the semi demolished house in front of him.

As fast as his feet could take him he ran to the front steps, the door flung open and showing, the marble and cement slabs that had cracked, rubble littering the normally neat and pristine hallways.

And in the distance, in the middle of the hall, kneeling on the ground was his father, hunched over two limp and unmoving figures and- no. It couldn't be.

Zemo's throat began to close, tightening and constricting so much that he ripped open the top of his collar, grabbing the banister for support.

The tears were already pouring down his face, like the rain on the days that would force you to stay inside, away from the cold. The days you loved.

But now you were gone.

You'd never have another rainy day to enjoy.

At this point he wasn't even conscious of the steps he was taking to move forward. The way his hand shakily covered his mouth as he got closer, seeing his wife, his son, blood dripping from your heads. Blank (e/c) eyes, two pairs staring back at him.

He couldn't hold himself up anymore. Collapsing on the ground next to you, one hand still covering his mouth, hiding his sobs while the other pushed back his hair in stress.

And for once the manor wasn't quiet. It echoed with the sounds of his strangled sobs and cries, leaving from his very soul because his life, his city, his family, was gone. Just like that.

No more Turkish delight after school.

No more visiting the orphanage on Sundays after church.

No more dreaming of the long and happy life you'd lead because that was taken away.

He'd never get to see his son graduate high school, let alone get to high school. He couldn't ask Henri for help when something was stumping him. The young boy always had the best insights. A fresh point of view.

All of the things he couldn't do were shoved down his throat all at once and it was almost too much to bear. But whoever caused it. Whatever caused it, there was no way it could be good and it didn't take him long to decide that now it was his job to stop it.

BONUS [Civil War tidbit]

Wanda was prepared for a fight. It seemed like that was all they did these days, but she wasn't prepared to see the person who caused it standing right there, a once familiar face darkened with grief and sadness.

"B-Baron Zemo?" she said, her voice coming out more broken than intended.

"Wait you know this psychopath?" Sam asked, turning to the red headed girl who nodded.

"He and his wife used to come visit the orphanage Pietro and I were assigned to. B-Baron I don't understand," she asked coming forward, much to Steve's apprehension even though he knew she could hold her own against him. "Why are you doing this?" the confusion and hurt in her eyes was clear to him and his face softened slightly.

"She's dead, Wanda," he said. "She died with the city. I'm doing this for her,"

"What about Henri," she said, almost in a begging manner for him to please consider his son if not anything.

"Resting next to his mother," he said, a hint of bitterness in his tone. "He was nine-years-old, tell me how this can justify the death of a child? The death of multiple children,"

"But this isn't what she could have wanted-,"

"You don't know that," he said, trying to mask the tremor in his voice.

"(Y/N) liked to help people Helmut," she said, dropping whatever formalities there were entirely. "She loved being of service, the way to honour her legacy is not by killing people or tearing apart families," she said firmly. "I lost my brother too, the only thing I had left. Just because they might leave us doesn't mean we have to resolve these problems in this way,"

"And I'm afraid that's where you and I will see differently," he shook his head. "I'm sorry Wanda, really I wish things were-," he was cut off when she ran up to him, engulfing him in a hug.

"I'm sorry too,"

And with a spark of red, everything went dark.

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some-stars · 3 years ago

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Fic writer questionnaire! Tagged by @deputychairman, thank you!

1) How many works do you have on AO3?

65....just waiting for 69 so i can celebrate

2) What's your total AO3 word count?

288,609

3) How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

okay, so, there's a lot so we're gonna collapse some. So, 16: The Witcher (games and show), Supernatural, Dark Angel, Glee, Stargate (both SG1 and SGA), MCU, Vampire Diaries, Teen Wolf, due South, DC (comics and movies), House of Leaves, Sense8, Harry Potter, Les Miserables (book), Doctor Who, and X-Men movies. Oh, and I wrote a lot of NSYNC RPF back in the day but you will never see it. (Unless you literally read it back then and remember one and want to reread it, I’m not ashamed of them if you were also in the pit with me. If that is the case feel free to ask.)

4) What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

all some children do is work: this one surprised me, i did NOT think there was this kind of appetite for almost-gen turned-into-a-kid fic, but i do really like the fic itself so i'm contented with its acclaim

method: i mean, it's fake dating, written back when there wasn't much non-modern-AU fake dating in witcher fandom (possibly there still isn't?) so, not surprised

Emergency Pants: this is the one that the Claw chose back in 2012 bc i had written very pornographic tony/bruce about a month after Avengers came out so there was a big appetite for it. i don't much care for it these days except i do still think the tony voice is good

warm you like the sunshine: deeply unsurprised this one is popular (and it's one of my own fics that i reread a lot), it's extremely tender BDSM with a juggernaut pairing, that gets the readers

As often as from thee I go: honestly kinda surprised about this one, which is just a 2500 word confection i wrote for my own satisfaction, but it does have explicit sex and jaskier crying about his feelings so maybe it makes sense

5) Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

I almost always do, but usually just with "Thanks!" unless it's a detailed or lengthy comment.

6) What's the fic you've written with the angstiest ending?

"Long black night, morning frost" (Les Miserables) for absolute certain. One of the very few fics I've written with an outright unhappy and pessimistic ending (although I found it very cathartic to write). For Witcher fics, "Kind" and "go ask alice" are about as sad as I get.

7) What's the fic you've written with the happiest ending?

Almost all of them, honestly. There's a point in happiness of endings where you really can't distinguish degrees. Probably the most--not saccharine, but distinctly Happy Ending-ish is either "Water like a stone" or "Darling, if you only knew," which to my eternal shame are both Glee fics. In terms of Witcher fics...it's still hard to pick! I think the kidfic trilogy ended very, very happily; I think "If you live through this with me" ended TOO happily.

8) Do you write crossovers? If so what is the craziest one you've written?

I do not, and I don't read them, at least not since the days of the late 90s/early 2000s when I once read a really good Highlander/X-Files crossover (oh, and Martha's cosmic horror fic where Stargate and Angel and I think something else all cross over but it feels quite natural and right). I don't like fusions, either, most of the time.

9) Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Never! In 20 years! I've been extremely lucky.

10) Do you write smut? If so what kind?

ahahahahahahahhaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

yes...yes you could say i write smut. on occasion. you know, when the urge comes on me. i write mostly kink or at least kink-adjacent fic, but i've done some vanilla scenes too, and i write m/m and m/f and (occasionally) f/f. fun fact, my only rimming scene to date was in a f/f/f threesome!

11) Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of.

12) Have you ever had a fic translated?

I think so? I can't remember, honestly, which sounds dreadful but like...I don't READ the translation, because I am sadly monolingual, but I get a burst of delight when someone asks to do it (or to make a podfic).

13) Have you ever co-written a fic before?

I have tried--me and a friend once got like 12k deep into a co-written Tiger and Bunny fic--but it doesn't really work out for me. I am a massive control freak when it comes to writing and absolutely miserable to work with. (Although I wasn't so bad back when we wrote the T&B fic, we just sort of never got around to finishing it. Which is sad, because it was GREAT.)

14) What's your all time favorite ship?

Max/Alec from Dark Angel. I shipped it when I only started watching DA for Jensen's episodes, I shipped it when I fell in love with Max, I shipped it when I frantically hand-wrote notes about the fic I wanted to write, I ship it right now as I'm typing, I will ship it in my grave. Also it's not a het ship bc neither of them are heterosexual, thank you very much.

15) What's a WIP that you want to finish but don't think you ever will?

I only post finished fics, but in terms of things I haven't posted, I still think my "For A Good Time Call" fem!jaskier/yennefer(/geralt) AU would have been truly incredible. If you haven't watched that movie go watch it immediately so you can share this beautiful idea with me.

16) What are your writing strengths?

Ohhh, this and the next one are hard, because I truly don't know. Well, besides "porn." I am genuinely good at porn, which is HILARIOUS considering how many more sex scenes I've written than participated in. But overall, I have so much angst and neurosis and tenuous self-worth tied up in writing, I'm a very bad judge of my own skills. Also, it depends on the fandom! In some fandoms I'm good at dialogue, in others not so much. In some fandoms I'm good at pastiching the tone of the source and in others...Not So Much.

17) What are your writing weaknesses?

If I had to pick a weakness, though, I'd say concrete imagery/detail. Like, the things that characters are physically doing either out of emotional reaction or just, they're doing something in that scene. Dialogue is usually easier (not sure if it comes out better, but it's easier).

18) What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

I used to be mildly annoyed at it but! Now! On AO3! You can put a footnote by the French or whatever, so the reader can jump down to read a translation and then jump right back up. I now feel that if you choose to include dialogue (or any words) in another language from the rest of the story, this is the only acceptable method.

19) What was the first fandom you wrote for?

I remember vaguely in 1996 or so writing a couple pages of Kit whump for the Young Wizards books. I wrote some execrable nonsense in X-Files, but in my defense I had just turned 13. I don't THINK I wrote anything for Star Trek, which was my first fandom. Oh, and I attempted to write fic for Homicide, which I watched in 7th and 8th grade and lied about my age to get onto the good mailing lists (they were actually the bad, racist mailing lists, I would later realize, but again I was 13).

20) What's your favorite fic you've written?

Sorry to disappoint anyone who follows me for Witcher content, but it's either "The absolute absurdity of end-series items" (House of Leaves) or "A quite unlosable game" (Dark Angel). They are both Big Idea fics, and I feel like in both of them I got the Idea across brilliantly, and I'm truly proud of them and think they're the best things I've ever made. (In terms of Witcher fic, it's the kidfic trilogy for sure.)

I am not going to tag anyone because that always makes me mildly anxious, but if you read this and you want to do it you can say you were tagged by me! :D? :D?

#meme

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gascon-en-exil · 4 years ago

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It's still somewhat astounding to me that a single offhand comment about trans headcanons for a Three Houses character got me a torrent of verbose anon hate, all presumably from one very loudly opinionated person. I'm not going to bother responding to those directly or any of the many that will assuredly follow - although I am old enough to be amused by the thought that the same whining the troll makes about trans headcanons contributing nothing to fandom could have been ripped right out of 2000s-era discourse, except back then it was about gay headcanons/fic - but a combination of candor and spite has nonetheless prompted me to put my current project on hold for a moment and talk a little about why I would have trans headcanons at all, and more specifically the kind that I do.

I have in the past suggested that, while I generally identify as cis, my gender has become more fluid in certain circumstances over the past half decade or so. Sexual circumstances, to be precise, to the point that I do now describe myself as "genderfluid in bed" for men who display an interest in such things. The common term for that is feminization kink, and for the men who are into that it usually manifests in little more than a desire to see me in lingerie and/or the use of associated wordplay during sex (ex. calling my hole a pussy/cunt, expressing a desire to impregnate me). I can understand why that might be appealing for some men; gay men collectively have a bunch of hangups with regard to straight men, and while that more often manifests through lewd fantasies of celebrities or watching porn where allegedly straight guys jack off for the camera I can also see in encounters with those men a desire to in essence RP as straight men fucking women. I get that from some bi men too, men who have explicitly enjoyed my natural androgyny and in some cases have even used their sexual experiences with cis women to add some extra flavor to our time together. Obviously this isn't a thing for all or even most gay/bi men - and guys who are looking for more masc partners are unlikely to start talking to me in the first place - but anecdotally speaking there are men of varying self-identified orientations who are into feminized AMAB sexual partners.

Now of course this comes to what is probably a more salient question: am I into that, or is it just one of several types of kink I'm willing to engage in because it broadens my appeal? There's no shortage of that in my sexual CV; I've let men suck on my toes, piss on me, tie me up, flog me, on occasion done all of the above to them, and more - but I'm sufficiently aware of my own interests to know that none of those things really turn me on. Feminization however I do like, so much so that I've noticed that I'm more genuinely attracted to men who treat me in what I perceive to be a feminine way, who take the lead in social situations and in intimacy and who enjoy the contrast in our bodies (these men almost always being bigger, hairier, and hopefully more well-endowed). The concept of treating me as feminine alone carries a ton of culturally specific baggage. The French are traditionally perceived as a more feminine/effete culture in the English-speaking world. Créole women like my female relatives and ancestors are notorious for the way they control their husbands, lovers, children, and (back when we had them) domestics while still constrained by the bounds of patriarchal society. It is through them that I learned most of how I conduct myself around men both in and out of bed, that the easiest way to control a man is to appear to be controlled by him while simultaneously enslaving him to his passions - passions that I intimately understand because I too have a dick. Most of my sexual partners come from backgrounds very different from that, so they have trouble understanding how I approach sex even if I'm trying to form an actual relationship with them. Still, some of them try, and I enjoy it when they do.

I've had trouble opening up about this before on my blog, not because of any trolls (although pissing off trolls is always fun) but because I've never been quite certain of how welcome talking about this would be. Most of the content and resources by, for, and about trans women online I've come across has concerned lesbian trans women, or otherwise centered around trans women's relationships (sexual or otherwise) with other women. As someone who still conceptualizes my gender identity first and foremost in relation to my sexual availability to men, those resources are unsurprisingly not going to speak to me very well. General trans content on Tumblr and other fandom spaces is similarly of little personal appeal, with the users skewing heavily AFAB and therefore more likely to feature trans men. I fully understand why that is, and on occasion I've been known to enjoy M/M porn where one character has a vagina with no explanation. God knows I've fantasized before about having an orifice that lubricates itself, doesn't need to be flushed out before sex, and is naturally built to take a cock. The philosophy behind most trans headcanons does elude me a bit though, as it seems to me like it'd be easier to keep a character's canon AGAB and change their gender identity rather than the reverse. Apparently that approach is much less common, but I can safely say that all of the handful of trans headcanons I've had involve canonically cis male characters imagined as trans female and sexually involved with cis male characters - big surprise there, right?

I get the impression that my perspective could easily be considered antiquated in several ways: that I emphasize sexual activity over the more nebulous sexual attraction when it comes to discussing orientation; that I prioritize my sexual activity over my gender identity; that I believe there exists a liminal space between fem cis gay men and straight trans women, and that there is historical precedence for such a space in pre-modern/early modern queer communities; and that to the extent that I've internalized a feminine gender identity I do so in the context of my relationships with men. Again, a lot of that comes down to culture, to the myriad ways in which queerness in New Orleans has retained its own history and character independent of other queer cultures in the English-speaking world. Maybe some of it sounds outdated, or misogynistic (I've seen that criticism lobbied at drag queens, and it would probably apply here too), or most bizarrely of all transphobic...but it's all nonetheless a part of who I am, and at the end of the day the only people whose opinions on this subject really matter to me are the men who want to take me to bed. To quote a particularly fitting verse from "Sugar Daddy" of Hedwig and the Angry Itch:

So you think only a woman Can truly love a man? Well, you buy me the dress, I'll be more woman Than a man like you can stand

Indeed.

#Pointless rambling #My sexcapades

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