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il-predestinato · 1 year ago

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hello beautiful elle

since it is going to be a long 3 months without our boys could you please recommend some fics that you liked? cause i really like your writings and how realistic they are and i wanted to get some of you suggestions for the break!

love you loads

Thank you, lovely anon, for your very kind message! 🥺 I must admit I have fallen behind in reading fics. I am sure I am forgetting some excellent Lestappen fics/writers, but these are some of my all-time favourites!

Lestappen Fic Recs:

And in the end I will seek you out amongst the stars by mandzilkos (@geeeooorrrge) - rating: G, 22k words

Soulmate AU where you see in black and white until you meet your soulmate, and the world goes back to black and white after your soulmate dies. This is ALWAYS the first Lestappen fic that comes to mind whenever anyone asks for a recommendation, and it is probably my all-time favourite. The fic that inspired me to write Lestappen, if I'm honest.

getting half of you just ain't enough by shybear_styles - rating: E, 20k words

The friends with benefits story that spans the 2019 season. The only thing better than amazing smut is amazing smut with feels. For sure a top 5 fic in the Lestappen fandom for me. Also, this author is simply amazing in general and you should read all of her fics! I haven't given up hope that she will return one day and write more Lestappen. 🤧

you feel the mornin' feel by shybear_styles - rating: M, 3.3k words

Remember that time Sebastian Vettel asked Charles, "Is he [Max] pretty?" And we never got an answer because Charles descended into gay panic? Well, worry not! We get an answer in this fic.

Monaco Malaise by ProngsfootxJily (@cupidskissx) - rating: E, 8k words

Rivals with benefits, takes place after the 2021 Monaco Grand Prix. Yes, this one is delicious smut but also a character study. Both of them are written so well, and it leaves you begging for more. Don't forget to check out the equally amazing sequel! (Don't worry, I have been relentlessly harassing her to write the sequel's sequel.)

algorithm by Anney (@badboy-george) - rating: M, 17k words

In a world where F1 uses simulation-based compatibility tests, five times Max doesn't find the right partner and the one time he does. Black Mirror ("San Junipero" and "Hang the DJ") vibes in the best way. Another one of my absolute favourite fics. If you've read any Lestappen fics, you've probably read "Every Other Sunday." This one is simply a masterpiece by the immensely talented Anney; definitely check out her other fics!

panem et circenses by Anney - rating: E, 13.2k words

Wow - simply devastating, haunting, an ode to these two as drivers, set in a dystopian future AU. The world building is absolutely incredible, but at its heart is such a beautiful story of love and hope. This one doesn't get enough recognition. (TW: implied non-con, not between Lestappen.)

Unlearn by wantinghopingwriting (Tazza1993) (@lightsoutfullhearts) - NR, 45k words

This is another all-time favourite, a must-read. Fake/pretend relationship to lovers multi-chapter story that is ever so satisfying; both of them are so well characterized. Set in a parallel-ish 2022 season. I really cannot recommend this one enough.

the edge of what can be loved by Ledger_m (@the-last-jedis) - rating: T, 13k words

The third wheel fic from the perspective of Max and Charles' various "Steves." It's funny, heartwarming, and everyone on the grid is nosy as fuck.

Charles Leclerc vs Red Bull caps by Ledger_m - rating: T, 6.4k words

Charles is the hero we all need, as he goes on a mission to get rid of all of Max's stupid Red Bull caps. This is REQUIRED reading! Kami is a genius. Go read all of her fics.

If You Don't Play, You'll Never Win by antimonyandthyme (@antimonyandthyme) - rating: T, 4.1k

Post 2021 Monaco Grand Prix. Max wants to take their relationship further; Charles... doesn't. Oh my God, where do I begin to describe how much I love this fic. The language is beautiful, both of them are so well-written, and I feel punched in the gut over and over again in the best way. The ending (well, the whole thing) is so damn satisfying.

all's well that ends well (to end up with you) by stylestappen (@stylestappen) - rating: G, 3k words

Max has a meltdown in the cereal aisle (yes, the cereal aisle) at 3 am when he realizes he is in love with Charles despite the latter's questionable taste in cereal. Dani has an absolutely wicked sense of humour! (Although I don't understand what she has against cocoa puffs 😭.) She also wrote a banger of a Lestappen soon-to-be teammates fic, so make sure to check out her profile.

Max Verstappen: Spotify Extraordinaire by frnndtorres - rating: G, 26k words

Max makes Spotify playlists for the grid. Fluffy, funny, care-free, liberal use of nicknames, with a healthy dose of feels between Max and Charles. A really fun read.

i love the way your green eyes mix with that malibu indigo by altissimozucca (@altisssimozucca) - rating: G, 11k words

Max and Charles spend summer of 2020 together in Malibu and try not to fall in love. Spoiler alert: they fall in love. I feel the urge to explain something: When I first started reading Lestappen, there were less than 250 fics in their entire tag (yeah I know, we are currently close to 3000 fics, which is insane). From 2019-2021, we truly lived off crumbs. So trust me when I say that we owe so much to altissimozucca, who wrote something like 40% of the fics in the Lestappen tag and nearly single-handedly kept us fed in those days. It's so hard to pick one of her fics to recommend, so make sure you check out her profile for more!

#803442 by altissimozucca - rating: M, 1k words

Max and Charles celebrate the end of the 2019 season in a hotel room. So soft, so fluffy, so satisfying.

Bruises by eefiplier - rating: E, 5.1k words

I think of this one as THE Lestappen smut fic. Oh my God, it's 5k words of amazing established relationship smut with all the feels. A classic. I can read this one over and over again.

outside the box by playclock (@endowataru) - rating: M, 6.1k words

Max falls in love with Charles' driving... oh and Charles himself too. They are ultra competitive idiots who are madly in love. There aren't enough established relationship fics out there, but this one is simply amazing. And don't forget to check out this author's profile for additional Lestappen fics. I promise every single one is a banger!

i made it link by link by purpleglasseswrites (@f-ferrari-forever) - rating: M, 4.2k words

Charles and Max try to be kinky, but who are they kidding - they are far too vanilla for that stuff. 🤣 This one is so sweet, and don't forget to read the sequel!

One man's trash, another man's treasure by AzziNow (@track-terror-apologist) - rating: T, 4.2k words

Charles turns into a raccoon and terrorizes everyone except Max. (Well, he terrorizes Max too... slightly.)

Call it madness, call it love… by AzziNow - rating: M, 3.5k words

Ferrari auctions off Charles for charity. No angst, just fluff. Alpha!Max/Alpha!Charles. So I confess that I never read A/B/O fics. There's nothing wrong with it - just not my cup of tea. But I really enjoyed this one. Al has such a chaotic sense of humour.

it all reminds me of you by grandprix (@grandprix-ao3) - rating: E, 3k words

Secret relationship Lestappen with flashbacks. Oh the yearning, the desire, the smut - incredibly satisfying. I must put a plug-in for this author's other Lestappen fics as well. Never misses - make sure to check them out!

burning you into my mind by thightattoos - rating: E, 4.1k words

Porn with feels and possessiveness. You cannot ask for anything more. I must have read this one a dozen times.

an evil plan or two by witchee_writer - rating: T, 5.2k words

Max and Charles are roped into a plan to get Brocedes back together; they come to a few realizations along the way. The only thing better than a Lestappen fic? A Lestappen AND Brocedes fic!

Fine Line by empireoffclouds - rating: NR, 7k words

One of the more light-hearted enemies to friends to lovers fics. I absolutely adore their dynamic here - it's snarky, warm, but also so them. The incomplete sequel is also a super fun read.

Into Darkness Of Thought by flamingosarepink - rating: T, 1k words

After the 2019 Japanese Grand Prix, Charles thinks Max isn't coming back to their shared space.

steal softly under castle walls by untouchableocean - rating: G, 521 words

Max gets home late from Milton Keynes and Charles has already fallen asleep. Short, tooth-rooting fluff of the best kind.

Zoomies by greeny1710 (@maxlambiase) - rating: E, 2.2k words

This one is just hilarious. A (mostly) naked Max walks into Charles' team Zoom call during the COVID lockdown.

...and many, many more that I'm sure I have forgotten! 🙈 You can also check out my AO3 bookmarks (the first few pages are pretty much all Lestappen fics).

Please remember to leave kudos and comments for these amazing writers. The talent in this fandom is absolutely incredible. They all deserve so much recognition. Happy reading!

#max verstappen #charles leclerc #lestappen #lestappen fic #fic recs #elle.ask #anon #a list of incredibly talented people #for reference #fave

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sunflowerwinds · 1 year ago

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this love | chapter one [h.c]

summary: your prince suitors have been driving you insane. after a scene you make at a ball, the king and queen have decided to put their foot down and have a knight look after you. knight meets princess. princess has conflicting thoughts about knight.

pairing: hazel callahan x fem!reader

contains: isabel being the sweetest girl, lonely princess who is misunderstood, knight!hazel, charming!hazel, king and queen are not the best and it won’t get better from here ://, hazel is readers gay awakening (real.), no y/n!

word count: 4.7K

a/n: everything will kind of start next chapter with hazel and reader’s beginning dynamic. this is just introducing how shitty the reader is treated and the royals beliefs.

The royal life.

The poor desired what came with royalty. Wealth, status, comfortability, security, love, and even. Whatever that may be. You envied those who weren’t a part of this life.

The corset underneath your, while stunning, uncomfortable gown suffocated you while you danced with yet another new suitor who had traveled across the seas to Rockridge Palace. Prince Jeffery Williams had been the sixth — hopefully final— prince to attend yet another one of these balls that the king and queen insisted they throw for you and your suitor to get to know one another.

Prince Jeffrey would not stop talking about himself as you slow danced and it was driving you up the wall. He was somehow incredibly louder in volume than the live orchestra.

On top of his ability to talk about all of his successes, which you were sure were entirely made up, he had wandering eyes… and hands. You shouldn’t have had to move his hands from below your hip back up to your waist as many times as you did.

After the third time and disgustingly cocky smirk, you had enough. Out of impulse, you raised your foot to slam it down onto his boot-covered one. Jeffrey let out a squeal that made you smile to yourself but quickly put on a feigned expression.

“Oh dear, Prince Jeffrey. I-I must have two left feet.” You place a hand over your heart, gasping as if you didn’t deliberately harm him.

Prince Jeffrey folded over to hold onto his now throbbing foot, face turning a beat red as he forced out a chuckle. Every other maiden and man that surrounded you both had stopped their dancing to stare and gape at the scene.

“I feel faint. I must go lie down.” Prince Jeffrey excused himself, smoothing down the front of his deep navy blue tailcoat. “Until we meet again, Princess.”

“Until then.” You bow with the fakest of smiles before clearing your throat.

Jeffrey scurried away to his guest room in the palace, his own personal guard following right behind. The music resumed, much louder than before as you locked eyes with your mother from across the grand room conversing with Jeffrey's mother.

You could feel her anger radiating through her heavy breathing and sudden excusing herself from the queen of Jeffrey’s kingdom. Other townspeople moved themselves out of the way as your mother swiftly made her way towards you.

There was a slight chance you may have gone a tad far with the aggression.

“Oh, sweet pea,” your mother sing-songs as she approaches you, hands folded elegantly in front of her torso, “Is it time for bed then?”

You knew there was a hint of anger laced in her sickenly sweet words. It wasn’t to fool you, though, but the surrounding guests. There was no fighting her, at least, at that very moment.

“Mother, I do feel quite drowsy. Would it be alright to head to bed?” You plaster on the same faux smile, sucking in a deep breath.

“I would highly suggest it. Now, go on then. I must tell these disappointed guests that the ball must come to an end.” Her smile unknowingly dropped as she ended her sentence.

You nod your heavy head, turning on your heels to make your way out of the grand ballroom to your bedroom. As you keep your head down to avoid the wandering eyes and whispers of: ‘Where’s the princess going?’ and ‘What happened with Prince Jeffrey?’. You hear footsteps trailing behind you, turning your head slightly to see the one person who could stand to be around in this entire palace.

“What did Prince Jeffrey do?” Isabel, your handmaiden and only friend, questions who as she sped up to walk side-by-side with you.

You sigh, retracting the groan that was threatening to escape.

“He was a conceited and handsy idiot just like Walter, Arthur, Abraham, Edmund, and Bennett. I couldn’t stand him, Isabel. They are quite literally all the same.”

Isabel visibly frowns, nodding along to your words. You tilt your head up to glance at the dulled hallways of the palace. Paintings of your family line hung up along the velvet red walls — four-time great-grandparents in order down to you and your elder sister; Moira.

“Well, this has already been the sixth suitor. The King and Queen already said that you had to decide by your twentieth.” Isabel carefully reminded you, fiddling with the string of the front of her simple yet beautifully fitting dress.

“That’s just it. I don’t have any desire to marry. Especially to men like that.” You seethed, approaching your high bedroom doors.

The divine vine and floral gold design decorate the dark wood. You wrapped your fingers around the handle to tug it open, grunting softly at how heavy the door was. Isabel quickly rushed to your aid, pulling the door backward. You thanked her quietly before marching into your room.

“Is there anything I can do?” Isabel kindly asked you, only wanting to make sure you were feeling okay.

“If you could just help me get out of this ridiculous dress.” You let out a groan which caused the green-eyed woman to chuckle.

“Of course, princess.” Her tone was teasing as she approached you from behind to begin undoing the laces that were keeping the corset tight on your aching body.

You huff out a soft laugh at the words as you insisted multiple times that you hated being addressed as Princess by the maidens, knights, guards, and kitchen staff that lived in the palace. Especially Isabel. She was more than just your handmaiden and personal attendant, she was your friend that you cared for.

Once she unraveled the last lace, you breathed correctly for the first time since your mother and the other maidens forced you into the constricting dress. She patted your tense back with a sigh.

“Better?”

Nodding through a soft pant, you say: “Incredibly.”

You both chuckle as you gradually sit on your large mattress.

“Anything else you may need?” Isabel questions as she stands next to you on the bed, torso meeting your temple.

Your eyes soften at her question, calming down as you take in a deep breath. You take her soft hands in yours, shaking your head.

“You’re too kind to me, Bel. I think I should just lie down now. You should rest as well before I have to endure whatever my parents will say tomorrow.” You nod, your voice is equally as gentle to her.

Isabel nodded, not having much more to add to the conversation. It was now entirely too late for either of you. The sun had been set since the ball began, the darkness taking over the once bright blue sky.

“Well, we’ll speak more in the morning.” Isabel nodded curtly, giving your hands a single squeeze.

“First thing.” You nod, releasing her hands.

Sharing one more smile, you watch as she leaves your grand room. A lonely feeling settles in your chest as you begin to undress for the night. You knew in the morning you were going to endure your mother and father’s scolding and lectures about how to not ‘embarrass their lineage’ and how ‘childish’ you were.

If you were silent enough and held your breath, you could hear the voices from the ballroom; disappointed and angry with the event ending early. Maybe you had gone too far this time with Prince Jeffrey.

No, he was not appealing by any means.

Left in your slip dress, you slowly crawl underneath the silky sheets covering your large mattress. Once your head laid down on the sheets, you fell into a familiar exhausted slumber.

You were awoken from an empty dream by the morning horns, the sun's rays beaming in through the tall windows near your bed. You sat up quickly, pushing your frizzy hair out of your face.

Without any sort of warning, you hear your bedroom door swing open. Following in were three of your usual maidens who helped you get ready in the morning. Isabel then trailed in soon after, flashing you a quick smile as you appeared extremely tired.

“Morning, princess.” All three of the maidens speak in unison causing you to quickly put on that fake persona.

“Morning, Mildred,” you nod towards Mildred; tall and blonde. “Vivian,” her baby face and dark skin shine as she bows. “Beth.” Her fiery hair shone in the sunlight as she, too, bowed in respect towards you.

“The king and queen have called you in to share some crucial news in the throne room,” Mildred speaks up, eyes boring into yours.

Your brows furrow immediately at the different choice of words. After incidents like last night, it would be the same from either of the girls: “The king and queen are requesting your presence.”

News? What news could there possibly be?

“Well, I should get dressed then. Can’t have them waiting too long.” You nod slowly, removing your now warm bed sheets from your body.

Isabel rushed to your wardrobe as Beth scurried to your side to help you out of bed.

You were exceptionally privileged and you were aware of it. Especially in these instances where you could easily dress yourself and make up your room but the maidens did it for you. It makes you feel lazy and useless.

“This dress should be perfect. Not too tight around the waist and flattering.” Isabel approached you with said dress in the palms of her hands, grinning kindly.

You trusted her so you thanked her quietly, allowing them to take over.

Within minutes, your tossed sheets were made finely by Mildred and Vivian. Isabel and Beth helped you into the dress, making sure your undergarments were hidden by the other fabrics.

The fit was quite pleasant, you must admit. The front was a bit lower than you had thought but you had rarely been so comfortable in your wardrobe without it just being those undergarments.

Your natural hair flowed down and over your shoulders, a black ribbon tied to keep half of it out of your face. A few flyways escaped but you enjoyed how it frames your face. The girls clamored around you, hands on every part of your dress to smooth out wrinkles.

God forbid the princess appear imperfect in any way.

Once they had finished getting you ready, they left the room, leaving you and Isabel to walk down the beautifully decorated halls to make your way to where your presence was requested.

“Do you have any idea what this news could be?” You mutter softly, eyes locked on Isabel’s side profile.

“I’m not sure if it’s true but apparently in the late of the night, the king and queen discussed assigning a knight to look over you,” Isabel whispered as her eyes darted to the line of knights that were passing by the two of you.

The metal clanked as they walked in an orderly fashion. You assumed it was for training as they tended to take about two hours to train before standing in their assigned places around the castle.

“Look over me?” You asked in disbelief.

You weren’t a toddler that needed to be looked after. You already felt your blood boiling as you were approaching the grand archway of the throne room.

“That was all I heard passing by Linda and Nina in the kitchen this morning.” Isabel quickly whispered.

Linda and Nina were older women in the kitchen who, although talented in the kitchen, gossiped about you constantly. You assumed it was jealousy of either your title or your youth.

Your eyes darted from the high marble archways to the gold-lined thrones that sat both of your parents. Your attitude was already set in place as you walked up just a few feet from them. The stomping of your everyday flats echoed against the floors, revealing how irritated you already were.

“Father—“ You began with annoyance laced in your tone.

“No!” His deep voice echoed, cutting you off as he slammed down his staff.

Out of the corner of your eye, Isabel flinched at the loud sound. Your breathing was heavy as you maintained eye contact with your father. He didn't scare you as he did his overly dramatic actions.

It only increased the amount of hatred you had towards him. Your mother remained silent, glancing at your father before flickering her eyes back to you.

“I am going to talk. You are going to listen and not interrupt me. I have had it with this… humiliating attitude you’ve decided to put on.” Your father seethed, a vein on his neck protruding. “Prince Jeffrey is a guest in our kingdom and you embarrassed him. This temper is childish. You will be twenty by mid-July and you’re behaving this way. Moira had not been so stubborn about her suitors as you have.”

You felt your nostrils flare as of course, he was blaming you for the way Prince Jeffrey had reacted last night. It was never a man's fault, no. Only you and your temper. Throwing you and your elder sister’s differences in your face as well wasn’t unheard of.

“You must formally apologize to both Jeffrey and the Queen effective immediately.” Your mother intervened, her tone rather calm in comparison to your father.

You remained silent, simply nodding to her words. There was no point in arguing as you knew they were going to shut you down. You watched as your parents exchanged a look before shifting in their thrones.

“Now, because of your rather upsetting actions the night prior, your mother and I have chosen a knight to make sure this doesn’t happen again.” Your father sucked in a deep breath before continuing his words. “Dame Callahan will be your knight.”

Your eyes narrowed as you heard ‘dame’ instead of ‘sir’. There were very few knights that were women so you were automatically expecting there to be a man. You knew of Sir Callahan as he was a noble knight that you’ve known since you were a child but not Dame Callahan.

“Sir Callahan has a daughter?” You question, folding your hands in front of you.

This was certainly news to you. You weren’t even aware that he had a wife to begin with, let alone a secret daughter.

“Indeed. Now, she’s only had her knight status for a year but hopefully, you’ll adapt to her professionalism. Learn from her.” Your mother answers, her brows raising at you accusingly. “She should be arriving any minute now.”

As if right on cue, you hear the horns from the guards outside echo faintly. You turn your neck to glance at the hallway that leads to the main entryway doors.

“Well,” your father cleared his throat, “Let’s go and properly greet them, yes?”

Your eyes locked with Isabel who was already peering down the hallway where you all were headed. You approach her with a forced grin, locking your arm with hers as you take your time walking towards the grand entrance. Her eyes soften as she knows you are feeling a range of emotions about this whole arrangement.

“How are you doing?” Isabel hums, trying to keep quiet as the king and queen are just a foot behind you two.

“Other than absolutely infuriated,” you suck in a deep breath, tilting your head at the freckled woman, “Alright.”

Isabel nods, not knowing what to do now. You knew you were being short but you didn't want to say something you didn't mean out of anger towards the kind woman. You simply pressed your head to hers gently to show you were listening.

“I’m sure Dame Callahan won’t be as difficult as your parents are.” Isabel sighs, keeping her volume quiet. “You might even like her. Make a new friend that isn’t me.”

You gape at her words, nudging her with your hip as you both chuckle to yourselves. You cherish these fleeting moments of joy, holding onto them to keep for your worser days.

“What are you insinuating?”

“Nothing.” Isabel shook her head, her laughter fading as the front door guards were now holding the heavy wood open.

You glanced at Isabel once more before releasing her arm to walk past the guards in their uniforms of the castle's flag colors, watching as they bowed as you and your parents passed by. You nod in response before stepping out on the open staircase, the sun’s beams burning into your skin.

Rounding the corner of the gates was a person on a dark brown horse — borderline black. You feel Isabel’s tense presence along with your father’s looming figure and your mother’s petite one.

You fixed your posture, taking in one deep breath as you awaited her arrival.

“Oh, sweet pea, this dress was not the most appropriate choice.” You hear your mother utter as she judgingly ranks her eyes up and down your frame.

“I can’t change now, Mother, so it’ll have to do.” You snarkily replied, eyes locked ahead of you.

You didn't have to be facing your mother to know she did not appreciate your response. Letting it go for now, you, your parents, and Isabel begin to wave at who you assumed to be Dame Callahan. The stranger knight tugs on the maritangle causing the horse to stop in its tracks right in front of the impressive stone steps.

Callahan begins to make her way up the steps, giving you a better look at her.

It had to have just been you, but you took in how perfect her skin appeared as she grew closer. You could feel Isabel’s eyes burning into the side of your head, clearly waiting for some sort of reaction to Dame Callahan.

First, she greeted both of your parents addressing them with their assigned greetings. Her voice was velvety, charming almost. You waited patiently for her to greet you, hands flexing anxiously by your sides. She didn't appear knight-like as all she was wearing were a pair of black boots, a simple commoner-appearing outfit, and a leather belt that held her sword in that same leather material.

“Princess,” she addresses you before kneeling on one knee, gingerly taking her hand in her gloved one. You tense as she leans her head forward to place her lips on the back of your hand.

Her eyes peer up at you, her dark lashes highlighting her alluring blue eyes. You hadn’t uttered a word yet, completely forgetting all the words you’ve ever known. Dame Callahan releases your hand once she notices how eerily still you’ve become.

“Princess, I’ve heard a lot of things about you,” Callahan speaks again, adjusting the belt on her waist to respectfully smile at you.

Has she already let go of your hand? You thought to yourself. You feel a sharp bone drive into your lower back which causes you to inhale, becoming aware of what was going on. You caress the hand that she had kissed before holding your hands in front of your hips.

“I hope they were all good things.” You reply, regaining your proper posture.

“Yes,” Dame Callahan replies, a small chuckle leaving her lips. “Though, they surely forgot to mention your beauty.”

You blink. Did she just compliment you? It could be an out-of-respect situation. Kissing up to you as you were certain that your parents weren’t that kind with informing Dame Callahan about being assigned to you.

“Oh, well,” you nod, feeling out of your own body. “Thank you, Dame Callahan.”

“Of course, Princess.” She, again, responds with such a poised attitude.

You were feeling extremely conflicted about Dame Callahan. A part of you wanted to get to know her; starting with her first name. Another part was admiring her side profile as she spoke to your father and mother. Why were you admiring her in the first place? You weren’t entirely sure.

“Well, Dame Callahan could settle into her new manor as we prepare the welcome lunch.” Your mother spoke up which caught your attention. “Sweet pea?”

You blink and turn to your mother to see her waiting impatiently for you to say something. Dame Callahan’s head was tilted with furrowed brows as you seemed to be zoning in and out of the conversation.

“Oh! Right! I can show you where you’ll be staying.” You send Dame Callahan a short grin, afraid to stare at her for too long.

The new knight nodded, respectfully bowing at both of your parents and Isabel before stepping to the side to allow you to go first. You begin to make your way down the steps as the manor for the knight's living space is a tower away from the main palace. The hot sun beeped down on your skin, a cool spring breeze brushing past your flowing hair.

The whole walk to the manor was eerily quiet. Neither you nor Dame Callahan were making any form of small talk. All you could hear were the horses huffing a few feet away in the stables, the clinking of metal from the other knights in uniform, and the chirping of the birds in the surrounding trees.

Your shoulders brushed for a mere second as she walked alongside you. You could see from your peripheral stealing glances at you like she wanted to say something but not uttering a word. To be fair, you were doing the same thing.

As you approach the large wooden door, you turn to her as you pause right in front of the entryway. She, too, pauses her steps with you, eyes locking on your face.

Why was her stare burning into you more than the sun? It felt so intense.

“This is the knight’s manor. I will see you around the lunch hour then.” You say.

Out of fear of flushing in her presence, you avoid pouring your eyes into her bright ones.

Dame Callahan nods, and a crinkle between her brows forms. “Is everything alright, princess?”

“Yes, of course. I think I’m just hungry.” You nod slowly, a nervous smile forming on your face.

Could she see right through you? It sure seemed like it. Callahan simply nods, knowing better than to press on such a matter, especially with a princess.

“Right, yes. I’ll just…” She trailed off, pointing to the door.

Your eyes followed her finger before a wave of embarrassment washed over you. A nervous laugh left your lips before nodding and waving your hand towards the door.

“Until lunch then.”

Dame Callahan’s lips quipped into a smile that seemed endearing. She placed a hand on the iron ring and tugged the door open. She bowed ever so slightly.

“Until then, princess.”

The door shut with a loud clunk, flinching at the sudden noise. For the rest of the morning, all you could think about was the way she said ‘princess’ towards you.

Lunch-time arrived in the middle of an etiquette lesson with Mrs. DuBois. The bells went off causing you instantly slouch in your seat. Your back was killing you from how aligned you were forcing onto yourself.

“We’ll continue this lesson tomorrow.” Mrs. DuBois sharply tapped at your back to get you to straighten your posture. “Though, I do not understand the point of this. You slouch so much, you are becoming a hunchback, princess.”

You send her a tight-lipped grin as you smooth down your dress. Isabel was waiting patiently for you in the corner of the room so she could walk you out.

“Lunch calls.” You force a laugh out.

Mrs. DuBois, unamused, nods before turning her back towards you and Isabel. You frown at her obvious attitude before motioning with your head towards the door. Isabel got the hint and gave Mrs. DuBois a quick goodbye.

Once they were out into the hallway, you began to chuckle with Isabel at how stuck-up Mrs.DuBois was.

“She said I have a hunchback, Bel. How dramatic is that?” You scoff, shaking your head.

“I swear, she’s never once felt an ounce of joy in her entire life.” Isabel added on, rounding the corner.

You two are giggling when you walk into the enormous dining hall. You could smell the delicious stew the staff had cooked for you all. You caught sight of Dame Callahan already sitting at the elongated table.

Right in front of your seat next to your mother.

“She’s sitting right across from me.” You slow down your feet, growing anxious to approach the table.

Isabel furrowed her brows, following your eyes to see Dame Callahan already conversing with your mother. Unable to comprehend what was wrong about that, she asks: “Is that bad?”

“No. Not necessarily. Just…” You trail off as you approach the table with Isabel.

You couldn’t even think of a valid excuse for how you felt about her place at the table. Why was she doing this to your mind? Maybe it was the thought that from this point forward, she was going to be quite literally around every corner, near you around the clock from dusk to dawn.

Sure, Isabel was already that but she had been around you for years. Dame Callahan was new and a stranger.

“Oh! Sweet pea, we were just discussing what exactly Dame Callahan will be doing whilst being your knight.” Your mother looked over at the intimidating knight, an overly friendly smile on her face.

You glance at your mother before taking your place right next to your father, Isabel sitting on the other side of you. All of the bowls of steaming hot beef stew thankfully distracted you as you patiently waited for your father to signal that it was okay to eat.

By that, you meant ‘the king always eats first.’ Once he took his first sip, you began to dig in shamelessly.

“So, Dame Callahan,” your father started, voice deep and booming.

“Yes, sir?” She perked up, eyes wide with patience.

“Your father never mentioned your name.” He plainly stated.

You, too, were curious about her first name, eyes darting over to her sharp features that were highlighted by the sun peeking in through the large windows. Her eyes flickered to you, strangely enough, before uttering her name.

“Hazel, your majesty.” She nodded, a smile forming on her perfectly pink lips.

Hazel. It suited her, you thought. Its simplicity was beautiful.

“It’s a lovely name.” You confess, sending her the least awkward smile you could muster.

Hazel’s eyes locked with yours. Her smile matched yours; genuine and kind.

“Thank you, princess.”

You break eye contact first, feeling overwhelmed by the intensity of her stare. You continue eating, eyes dancing from person to person as they add to the conversation. After everyone listened to how Hazel’s journey was to the kingdom, it was around the same time that everyone was finishing up their bread and stew.

“Well, I believe this is the first time you’ve not spoken during a feast,” your father speaks up, eyes locking on yours.

“I don’t have much to say, father.” You quip.

“You’re not always that way, sadly enough.” His tone was quite obviously degrading and meant to humiliate you.

You prod your tongue into the inside of your cheek, wondering why he was starting this right now. Hazel had just arrived and he was already trying to pick a fight with you.

“Oh, your majesty, it’s alright. I think I’ve talked enough for now,” Hazel quickly buts in.

You glance at her, furrowing your brows at her unexpectedly. She was looking directly at your father for just a moment before sending you a soft look.Your father hadn’t replied back to Hazel’s quick words but you feared he might. You straighten your back and clear your throat as you stand up, smoothing down your dress

“I’m feeling full now. May I leave the dining table?” You stare expectantly at your parents, hoping they would just let you this one time.

Your mother simply nods as you turn to Isabel who had already finished her meal. She took that as a hint to leave as well, nodding respectfully towards your parents and Hazel. Her familiar arms lock with yours as you walk down the hallway to venture to your room.

“She seems nice.” Isabel spoke first, looking at you for confirmation that you felt that same way.

You didn’t know what to feel.

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#hazel callahan #bottoms movie #hazel callahan x reader #bottoms 2023 #wlw #hazel callahan x you #hazel callahan fic #knight hazel

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so-i-did-this-thing · 2 years ago

Text

Hey trans Florida folks - things suck, but I want to make sure y'all have more info so you can better gauge the urgency and expected risk for a new bill.

This is another long post, but please read because a lot of folks are in a huge panic at some misleading info.

You've probably seen this by now:

This is misleading. Be incredibly concerned at the path we're on because it is bad, even plan to leave the state (I am), but drag isn't punishable by the death penalty:

From the Twitter screencap: "Florida has now: 1) made drag in public illegal as a 'sex crime against children'."

Misleading. SB 1438 censors drag in front of minors w/vague, subjective language and threatens misdemeanors, fines, and license revocation for violations. This is meant to scare businesses, and even cities. We are already seeing Pride parades canceled in Florida in response:

From the Twitter screencap: "2) made sexual crimes against children punishable by death"

Too broad. Sexual battery against a child is being made into a capital felony (aka, punishable by death) in the currently proposed SB1342 .

The bill says:

"A person 18 years of age or older who commits sexual battery upon, or in an attempt to commit sexual battery injures the sexual organs of, a person less than 12 years of age commits a capital felony".

If we want a definition of "sexual battery" itself, we can jump to Florida statues at:

https://m.flsenate.gov/statutes/794.011

"Sexual battery” means oral, anal, or female genital penetration by, or union with, the sexual organ of another or the anal or female genital penetration of another by any other object; however, sexual battery does not include an act done for a bona fide medical purpose."

Also of note in this statute:

"Serious personal injury” means great bodily harm or pain, permanent disability, or permanent disfigurement."

I am not a lawyer, but to me, this looks like less of an attack against trans people for existing (via conflation with anti-drag bills), and more a way to target those providing gender affirming care -- healthcare providers or even a child's affirming guardians.

Many states are already trying to set up "aiding and abetting" laws (from the anti-abortion playbook) to punish anyone offering any kind of gender affirming care (from general therapy to vocal coaching) to a trans kid.

Florida might be hoping someone applies the "injures the sexual organs of" component of SB1342 to gender-affirming puberty blockers. Yeah, it's a stretch, but I would not be surprised to see someone try it.

Because we are already seeing the HHS committee consider sending subpoenas to gender-affirming clinics:

"House Speaker Paul Renner said he wants the House to examine how the organizations adopted their recommendations. He questioned whether the guidelines were the result of scientific analysis or whether “the integrity of the medical profession has been compromised by a radical gender ideology that stands to cause permanent physical and mental harm to children and adolescents.”

Emphasis mine. Again, I am not a lawyer, but I would not be surprised to see someone try to hold a gender-affirming clinic accountable for "sexual battery" against a child.

All these separate actions paint a grim picture.

Back to our Twitter screencap: "3) Began allowing death penaltymsentencing at at 8-4 vote instead of a unanimous vote"

Yes, true. This one is scary all on its own because it makes it that much easier for the DeSantis administration to target political enemies.

Everyone should be terrified of this:

Back to making child sexual battery a capital felony & SB1342:

Could we eventually see bills proposed that further broaden - via deliberately vague language or otherwise -what kind of "sex crimes" are punishable by death, thus fully targeting trans people?

For sure, we will absolutely see fascists try to get away with whatever they can and I hope we see more resistance against what is happening now to prevent the escalation towards genocide.

But this specific bill isn't targeting drag and it's important we understand the current threat landscape so we can plan accordingly.

Like. I'm still working on my own plan to flee Florida asap (I am a trans man) but I don't feel at risk of the death penalty just yet, so my "leave asap" is "sell the house in a month" instead of "grab the bugout bag and get in the car NOW".

It is very, very important to understand the threats we face so we don't make rash decisions that could have permanent consequences for already vulnerable people. We need to plan and act on plans with haste, but afford ourselves every opportunity to make decisions with as much accurate information as possible.

What's the status of SB1342?

As I type this, still with the senate, but check for updates at the link below. If passed, it would enact October 1, 2023.

In closing

Again, be careful, be safe, be informed. I am not a legal expert; I'm just a little guy, but the risk landscape has enough threats trans people need to respond to without us thinking drag is currently eligible for the death penalty.

Every trans person in the United States, not just Florida, should be watching what is going on across the country and noting how all these bills connect and escalate. And what could become blueprints at the federal level.

Keep hope, but plan for contingencies that could threaten your job, your housing, your liberty, and possibly even your life. Watch the news, watch your local bills, and do your best at figuring out when you need to break that emergency glass.

My biggest advice to be better informed is to learn where your state posts bills and look them up when they hit the news:

Get used to reading bills and noting when they would take effect

Learn how to follow a bill on its way into law - the stages are usually through various committees, then both the House and Senate can file amendments and ultimately vote in separate sessions to approve, then the governor signs it into law

Understand that a lot of reporting on bills can make it sound like it has passed into law, when it might still just be in a committee.

Not all bills pass, and when they do, not all pass as originally proposed. (This can work for or against us.)

Follow trans political commentators like Erin or Alejandra for more context

Again, it all sucks right now and I don't want to underscore the danger so many transgender Americans are already in (and lord knows I am very lucky to be able to leave Florida). But knowing what we're up against is one of the few defenses we have right now.

I have more advice for trans Floridians here.

#trans stuff #transgender

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ginnsbaker · 1 year ago

Text

Bulletproof (6/10)

Part Summary: It's three months after the attack on the compound and you lost your invincibility against bullets.

Chapter word count: 2.6k+ | Tags: Light Angst, Still UST, Still gay

Ship: Wanda Maximoff x Gender Neutral Reader

Next Part | Series Masterlist

The sound of the doorbell at “Café Lumière” reverberates around the room, your heart reacting before your head can even register it. It's the softest of sounds, but it pulls you like a siren's song. Every fiber of your being is acutely aware of that door, with both trepidation and hope hinging on its every swing.

Steam curls up from the frothing milk, whispering past your fingertips as they work on a delicate latte art. Your focus is unwavering, yet as the door chimes again, your heart skips. You risk a glance, your hope suspended for that split second, only to crash back down when it's not her.

Louisa's eyes, which have been watching you mischievously for some time now, find yours.

“Clock's ticking,” she teases, nodding toward the ornate clock hanging precariously on the wall. “Not 3pm yet.”

You feign confusion, but your playful smirk gives you away. “What are you going on about?”

She grins knowingly. “Your weekly muse isn't due for another... oh, ten minutes or so?”

An exaggerated sigh escapes your lips, the warm notes of roasted beans surrounding you like a comforting embrace.

“I'm not waiting for her, you know,” you say, though your voice lacks conviction.

Louisa smirks and pats your shoulder, “Sure, sure. Just give it time. She's never missed a Thursday, has she?”

As you're about to come up with a clever retort, a sharp sting on your finger draws your attention. You wince, looking down to see a thin, red line forming across your finger. Tearing the receipt from the register to hand to the awaiting customer, you’re slightly taken aback at how much the cut bleeds.

“Everything alright?” the customer asks, noticing the blood.

"Yeah, just a small paper cut," you dismiss, trying to downplay it. Grabbing a napkin, you press it against the cut, soaking up the crimson liquid.

Louisa's sharp eyes don't miss a beat. "Careful there. Those can be nasty," she comments, retrieving the first-aid kit from under the counter.

Louisa holds out a bandage, but you shake your head, not wanting to make a fuss over something so minor. “Really, I'm good,” you assure her.

A few seconds later, you open the napkin to check the cut. To your surprise, the skin seems perfectly whole, as if it had never been broken in the first place. You flex your finger, the earlier sting now a distant memory. “See? I'm fine,” you declare, shrugging.

Louisa tilts her head, narrowing her eyes in astonishment. “That healed incredibly fast. You sure you're okay?”

You chuckle, deciding to make light of the situation. “What can I say? Maybe I have superpowers.”

A soft clearing of the throat interrupts the moment. The customer, who you hadn't realized was keenly observing the entire exchange, raises an eyebrow. “Can I get some napkins, please?”

Flustered, you quickly hand a bunch over. “Of course, sorry about that.”

Louisa grins at you mischievously as the customer leaves, “Superpowers, huh? That's a new one.”

The doorbell rings out, pulling your attention instantly. You lift your gaze, hope surging momentarily, only to see the same customer making her way out. The door gently shuts behind them, the anticipation that had built up inside you deflating.

Louisa, noticing the brief flicker of disappointment in your eyes, nudges you playfully. “Don't look so down,” she says, her tone light and teasing. “She’ll be here. You know how punctual she is. Maybe she's just running a bit late today.”

You give a half-hearted chuckle. “Yeah, maybe.”

“I wonder though why she never gives her name,” Louisa muses.

“Hm?”

“You know, for the cup,” she clarifies.

You shrug. “Some people love their privacy, I guess.”

Hours seem to stretch endlessly, the weight of the clock's hands growing heavier with each passing minute. The crowd in the café starts to thin as evening nears. Although the store is open 24 hours a day, seven days a week, your shift only lasts until 8. And in the midst of the dwindling crowd, one spot remains unclaimed—the corner seat by the window, the one she always chooses.

She is the sole reason you continue working here despite your persistent restlessness. Pouring coffee for hundreds of customers daily never truly satisfies you, even when some tip generously. There's an inexplicable nagging feeling, suggesting this isn't where you belong or what you should be doing.

Yet, what anchors you between the register and the espresso machine is the girl who comes in every Thursday, late in the afternoon, always punctually, sometimes a few minutes early. It's disconcerting and exhilarating, this sudden shift of your universe tilting on its axis. You've never been one to believe in love at first sight or fated connections, but there’s something in the way she holds herself, something in her gaze that tugs at strings you didn’t even know existed.

But even if you can write the sweetest song or the most evocative poem about every titillating thing about her, it’s just a crush.

A crush that will lead to nothing. Not because you've attempted to ask her out or because she's already spoken for.

It's because your very existence is shrouded in uncertainty.

The past few months have been a jumble of rehab appointments, therapy sessions, and sleepless nights trying to piece together fragments of memories that always seem just out of reach. Surviving that near-fatal crash was a miracle in itself, but the loss of your past—it took away a part of who you were. Or who you're supposed to be.

Every day, you grapple with an identity you don’t recognize, yearning for some semblance of the person you once were. A glance at the reflection in the coffee machine shows a face still unfamiliar. Eyes that hold stories you can’t read, a curve of a smile that feels out of place. When people share anecdotes from their past or talk about family and childhood, all you can offer is a nod, a practiced smile, and a tightness in your chest that never truly fades.

And how could you possibly burden her with this emptiness?

The small apartment you return to every evening, given by a private charity, is filled with borrowed things and a life that doesn't truly feel like yours. They said you had no family, no one waiting or weeping for your recovery. Your recovery was overseen by faceless benefactors who, for some reason, deemed you worthy of a second chance. Yet, every evening as you unlock your door, you wonder if you truly deserved it.

The beautiful woman who steps into the coffee shop every Thursday, with her air of confidence and those captivating eyes, deserves more than what you currently are. More than this fractured self, teetering on the edge of self-discovery and despair.

What could you possibly offer her? Nights filled with stories of... nothingness? Days shadowed by the fear of not knowing who stares back at you in the mirror? She deserves someone who is rooted in memories, with stories to tell. Not this fragmented existence you live.

Perhaps it's safer this way, to admire her from a distance, to let her remain this source of hope and inspiration. A lighthouse guiding you through the stormiest nights. If you ever manage to find yourself again, then maybe, you'd take that chance.

Glancing at the clock again, it's 7:45 PM. Still no sign of her.

Dejectedly, you remove your apron and prepare to leave.

Wanda Maximoff blends into the bustling streets, the hood of her jacket pulled low over her face and her boots echoing a muffled cadence on the pavement. Dressed in tight denim and a nondescript hooded jacket, she hardly resembled one of the most powerful Avengers.

She mumbles a silent curse under her breath, glancing at her watch. She's late—later than she's ever been—and she hates it. Thursdays at the cafe are her only remaining connection to you.

She can see the cafe now, its warm light spilling out onto the street. She pushes the door and her eyes immediately scan the room, searching for that familiar face behind the counter. The disguise continues to work; to everyone, she’s just another customer. She doesn't draw the same attention here as she does in New York.

It’s North Carolina after all, and the town they put you in cares more about art than superheroes.

Louisa's attempt at nonchalance is commendable but slightly betrayed by the quick tightening of her lips and the slight flutter in her eyes. “Good evening,” she begins, voice as steady as she can manage. “Can I get you the usual today?”

Wanda's gaze, sharp and unyielding, remains locked on Louisa's face. “Where's Y/N?” she asks tersely.

“I'm sorry, ma'am, but I can't share information about our staff's schedules.”

She pauses, letting the words settle before adding, “If you're looking to see Y/N, perhaps you can drop by tomorrow between 2 pm and 8 pm.”

“Oh,” Wanda mutters softly.

Vision, in his human disguise, comes up behind her. “Wanda, we should go,” he murmurs, attempting discretion, but Louisa catches his words nonetheless.

Wanda hesitates, her posture rigid. “I needed to see them, Vis,” her voice is laced with a quiet desperation, a yearning for something—or someone—lost.

“I know,” he replies softly. “But they aren’t here. And we can always go back tomorrow.”

“I just have a feeling,” Wanda says. “Maybe this time, they’ll—”

“You’ve had that feeling for weeks now, but nothing has changed.”

They've lowered their voices to whispers, forcing Louisa to strain her ears to catch the exchange between the two. Vision soon catches on to Louisa's subtle eavesdropping. Their conversation abruptly stops, and Wanda, a bit lost, looks up at him for an explanation. Vision subtly nods toward Louisa, signaling her presence.

Clearing his throat, Vision steps forward, deciding to divert attention. “A hibiscus tea, please,” he says.

Louisa, embarrassed at being indirectly called out, fumbles slightly before regaining her composure. “Of course. Name for the cup?”

“Victor,” Vision replies smoothly. With a nod, Louisa gets to work, while Vision takes a few steps to the side with Wanda, resuming their conversation in even lower tones.

Louisa sneaks occasional glances while pretending to be engrossed in her work. The two stand slightly apart, their conversation seeming both intimate and tense. Wanda's fingers fidget, wringing her hands, her lips moving quickly. Vision responds with a calming gesture, fingers grazing her forearm.

The steamer hisses as Louisa finishes the hibiscus tea, her curiosity deepening.

Setting the cup on the counter, she clears her throat. “Order for Victor!”

No reaction.

With a little more force, she calls again, “Hibiscus tea for Victor!”

Again, no response.

The cafe grows impatient, a soft buzz of conversation fills the air, and a few customers shoot curious glances at the duo.

“Victor!” Louisa exclaims, this time with a touch of impatience.

At this, Vision finally turns, the gentle hum of their conversation breaking. He approaches the counter, his blue eyes apologetic. “I'm sorry,” he says, taking the cup from her hands. “Thank you, Louisa.”

Louisa simply nods, her gaze flitting between the pair. As they head towards the exit, she can't help but wonder about the nature of their relationship with you and what has them so concerned.

Three months ago

“You can’t do this to them.”

Wanda's voice crackles with anger and a hint of desperation, her collected demeanor fraying at the edges. The holographic projections of the globe, pinpointing potential locations and glimpses of Y/N's impending new life, bathe Wanda's face in a cold blue light, each flicker taunting her with the reality of your imminent departure.

Flashbacks flicker behind Wanda's eyes, pulling her into that harrowing moment. She feels you in her arms again, your life seeping away between her fingers. She's surrounded by dust-covered streets, crumbling buildings, and the deafening silence after the explosion. Your blood, vibrant and so, so red, pooling at the ground beneath you, staining Wanda’s shoes. She's paralyzed, every second stretching into an eternity, every breath a labor.

She was so slow, so clouded by fear. Why didn't she act faster? Why didn't she see the signs? Could she have saved you?

It was Steve's voice that brought her back to reality. “Wanda! We need to move!” She barely registered the panic in his voice, the way he swiftly and gently took you from her, laying you on a makeshift stretcher.

Every moment after that feels like an agonizing irony to Wanda. She knows grief and loss intimately, but this... this is an entirely different kind of pain. The trauma of watching you battle death is only overshadowed by the realization that while you might physically be here, mentally, the person who risked their life for her twice has disappeared.

In the quiet spaces of her heart, she acknowledges a truth she's been running from: she's spent so long building walls, so long pushing away the vulnerability that came with connecting deeply with someone, out of fear. Fear of loss, of pain, of being too raw and open. With you, those walls had started to crumble, brick by brick, but not fast enough.

She wishes she could go back, to relive those moments with the knowledge she has now.

“You can't do this to them,” she murmurs again, the words more for herself than anyone else.

Steve stands across from her, hands on the table, his posture rigid yet his face betraying a deep sadness. “Wanda, it's not about what I want or what you want. It's protocol.”

Wanda's face contorts with anger, her voice rising, “Protocol? Y/N isn't some object to be managed! They have rights, feelings, memories—”

“Which they don't even remember!” Steve interjects, his rarely-seen frustration surfacing on this particular occasion.

“You can’t just... toss them into the world like they're yesterday's news, Steve,” Wanda hisses with barely-contained anger. They remain the lone figures in the meeting room after the team unanimously voted to craft a new identity for you, placing you in a secluded town, untouched by global news, let alone the cosmic battles waged galaxies away.

Steve pinches the bridge of his nose. “Wanda, it’s not about 'disposing' anyone. The protocol is clear. If a super loses their powers, they reintegrate. Y/N can't live in the compound because they no longer belong in this world of chaos and danger.”

“Because they're powerless?” Wanda’s eyes blaze. “Or because they're no longer of any use to the cause?”

“It’s not like that and you know it,” Steve says, stepping closer to Wanda and meeting her gaze. “Y/N has lost their memory, they don’t remember any of this—any of us. Keeping them here would only confuse and possibly hurt them.”

“They just sacrificed everything for me. And now you want to push them aside because it's convenient?”

“No,” Steve replies, “Because they’ve done enough. They’ve given enough. Don’t you think they’ve earned the right to a peaceful life? The privilege of normalcy?”

Her green eyes shimmer with unshed tears. “All I’m saying, Steve, is that they should have the choice. And right now, we’re taking that away from them.”

“Your girlfriend showed up last night.”

You whip your head around to look at Louisa so quickly, it feels like you might've given yourself whiplash.

“Come again?”

Louisa grins, tying her apron around her waist with a knowing smirk. “You heard me. Your Thursday regular? Gorgeous, and those piercing green eyes? She came by looking for you after you left.”

Your eyes widen, heart racing. “That doesn’t mean she’s my... girlfriend.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Louisa teases, leaning in closer. “She seemed pretty keen on finding you. Even asked for you by name. Speaking of which... guess who found out her name?”

Your mouth opens in surprise. “Y-You did?”

Louisa nods, a smirk on her lips. “Wanda. Her name’s Wanda.”

“Wanda,” you repeat, savoring the name as it slips from your lips.

Putting a name to such an unforgettable face changes everything. But like so many things that have recently unfolded, you just don’t know the significance of it yet.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff x you #wanda x you #wanda maximoff #unbetad #my writing #my fic #elizabeth olsen x reader #elizabeth olsen #wanda maximoff fanfiction #captain america civil war #the avengers #vision

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holmesianlove · 14 days ago

Text

Chapter 17 - Angst

John had no idea where he was going but he needed to get outside and get air into his lungs. Even the laneway, charming as it was, felt claustrophobic. He moved swiftly to the main street again, desperate for fresh air, sucking in deep breaths. What was that? What was happening right now?

How had he gone from being the annoying, womanising flat mate of a high functioning sociopathic detective to… to this? He was having sex cravings? For Sherlock? Is that what it was? He had been jealous at the club the other night. He had felt it. He’d promptly ignored the feeling, but he knew deep down, he had been properly jealous, seeing Sherlock lean across the bar and place those glorious lips beside the jaw of that young man to talk into his ear. He may have been trying to catch a killer but even so. And regardless of the alcohol, he danced with Sherlock Holmes… in a gay club. John never danced. John never entered gay clubs. He avoided anything remotely like that as if his life depended on it. And... he had bloody enjoyed it too. Which was even worse. That was the truth of it, wasn’t it?

Since the club, John had been letting Sherlock take more and more liberties. He’d told his friend far too much information. Far more than he wanted to share with anyone, because he was going soft on his flatmate. He was having bloody feelings. He had managed to keep them as far at bay as possible and then all of a sudden, it had slammed him in the stomach, like a well delivered punch. His blood felt hot in his veins, his head was throbbing, his heart rate was thumping. He felt incredibly unwell all of a sudden. The doctor in him was concerned briefly - maybe you’re having a heart attack, Watson? Or a stroke? Or maybe you’re in love with your flatmate, like the idiot you truly are and you are going to need to work out a way to get rid of that as quickly as possible. Sherlock Holmes has no interest in you like that, you complete moron, he told himself. Was he the most attractive man you’ve ever known - both physically and intellectually? Yes, alright. He was. His beauty had completely caught you by surprise from the minute you walked into that stupid lab with Mike. You clearly miscalculated when you tried to use your charm to ask him out at dinner. That had been embarrassing, and you covered it well. Then you became a useful and invaluable part of the man’s work, and a trusted friend. You had a roof over your head. What in god’s name would possess you now, to let your head even go there? This was a complete disaster! Sherlock Holmes would never look at you the way you were looking at him just now. He has no interest in relationships. Everything he’s ever said has let you know that. Stop knocking at that door.

John needed to just walk it off. Start thinking about all the annoying habits Sherlock had that drove him nuts. All the reasons he’d leave Baker Street if he had another alternative. That would be the safest way to calm down these stupid feelings.

——

Sherlock sat at the table a little stunned. What had just happened? Had he done the wrong thing? Maybe John didn’t like chocolate that much? Except, Sherlock knew that wasn’t true. John had secret stashes of chocolate in his bedroom at Baker Street. He was prone to buying them but forgetting all about them, which Sherlock knew, because he had stolen some on occasion, when desperation took hold and John never said a word about it. So what in god’s name had just happened here? He thought things had been going well. They had been talking, opening up about things in a gentle way. They had been laughing. They had been enjoying their time together, at least Sherlock had thought so. He had really enjoyed the last few days. John had somehow felt comfortable enough to open up and talk about some things he’d never mentioned before, and helped to explain some of the very things Sherlock had been concerned about. The things that made John seem completely unreasonable and homophobic, suddenly made a lot more sense. There was some history there. There was more to it, Sherlock was sure of it. Had he pushed John too far though? Had the last couple of days been too much for his friend?

He was tempted to call his brother and ask for advice, but Mycroft wasn’t all knowing. Not when it came to John. Sherlock had to trust his instinct, at least a little bit. John needed to trust him, if they were ever to find a way to a place where Sherlock could admit how he felt - when John was actually conscious to hear it - then John needed to trust Sherlock. And running back to the imposing older brother was not the way to do that.

Sherlock leapt up and asked the attendant for a packet to take his truffles with him, and was out of the shop as quickly as possible. He stopped outside, looking around the alley. No John. He ran up to the main street and looked both ways frantically. He did not want John to disappear into Brussels and get lost. John was a brilliant surgeon, but he had a useless sense of direction. Sherlock refused to have made progress with him only to lose him in a foreign city, especially before they had even met their client. He stood there deep in thought. What had I said? Or done? Something had really triggered John. Sherlock had thought he had been careful, gentle. As much as he’d like to leap in and just tell John he was in love with him, like his brother suggested, it just hadn’t felt right. And maybe John being asleep on the train was a sign. He wanted to be the centre of John’s universe, the way the handsome doctor had become the centre of his. But maybe it was too much to ask?

Finally, in the distance, he saw John’s familiar figure, walking down the street, looking at the shop fronts.

“John!” he called out, but John was too far away. He ran up the street to catch up to him, pushing his way through people, trying not to create too much of a scene but not wanting to fall behind. When he finally caught up, he placed a hand on John’s shoulder. “John,” he said gently.

John flinched, turning his head in fright.

“Everything alright?” Sherlock asked gently.

John’s face moved through a few emotions Sherlock couldn’t quite read. “Mmm-hmmm,” he said, nodding a little too enthusiastically.

“Did I… Do something wrong? Can I help?” he tried.

“No, it’s fine. I just… it was too stuffy in there. I needed air. Sorry. The chocolate was lovely. Sorry I left you like that. I suppose you polished them all off yourself? That can’t be good for you, you know?” John said, trying to lighten the mood, trying not to look Sherlock in the eyes.

Sherlock held up the packet. “It wouldn’t be the same if I did that by myself, John. That wasn’t the purpose of the outing. We can enjoy them together,” he said, with the sweetest smile.

It hurt John’s chest to see it. “Oh, great.” He nodded and looked back at the shop window. His voice fell a bit flat. “I thought perhaps it might be an idea to look at the shops. I haven’t had a chance to do my Christmas shopping yet.” He looked at Sherlock briefly, for approval. “If we have time that is?”

“Of course. John. It’s just you and me today. We will meet with the client in the morning.” Sherlock watched John carefully trying to decipher what he was thinking.

“Great. Shopping it is then.” John nodded, turning away from Sherlock to continue on the way he had been travelling.

“We can look through some of these shops and then there are the markets as well,” Sherlock offered.

John nodded and walked on in silence for a while. Sherlock caught up with him and walked beside him careful not to interrupt his thoughts.

“Sorry. For ruining the moment,” John finally offered.

“Not at all John. After all, it’s just chocolate,” he said calmly.

John scoffed. “I can’t believe you just said that,” he teased.

“Mmm, I know. That sounded completely wrong,” Sherlock agreed and the two of them smiled as they walked down the street together.

@lisbeth-kk @helloliriels @totallysilvergirl @221beloved @safedistancefrombeingsmart @givemesherbet-blog-blog @naefelldaurk @a-victorian-girl @phoenix27884 @peanitbear @starlitkeys @lumilama @yorkiepug @talkativeanxiousturtle @kettykika78 @kittenmadnessandtea @whatnext2020 @egregiously-chuffed @chriscalledmesweetie @catlock-holmes@battledress @kholkate @randomquadballpun @little-owls-things @daltongraham @sillygirlsmindpalace @oetkb12 @odditiesandeverything @johnlockficclub @rainstarboii @bheadhe @hospitableasacactus @wssh13 @br-nz @solarmama-plantsareneat @givemesherbet-blog-blog @dw91165 @moonkeller @surprisinglyokay @r4venlyn @therealalexisamess-blog @rhasima @salmonsown @tropelovingpainter @westandforships @fuck-off-watson-rp @notjustamumj @melodious-me

@silvergoldsea

@pileofstardust2106 @e-b1838

#johnlock #fanfic #bbc sherlock #angsty #sherlockbbc #sherlock fandom #sherlock #john watson #sherlock holmes #ao3 fanfic #holidaze2024 #december prompts #December prompt

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nonbinarypirat · 4 months ago

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Okay, I’ve been collecting my thoughts on the many-ears demon race and their subservient stance in the Netherworld. And I think this is a perfect time to make a post since chapter 361 just came out and we are getting the main conflict of the arch: conservative older generation vs progressive younger generation. Plus also the fact that the forming country and school still isn’t stable and all that. Spoilers for chapter 361!

So it’s becoming more and more clear that the main conflict will be changing the minds of the older more fearful generation of the many-ears race. Which makes perfect sense, a newer kid comes into this area with ideas of making them equals (something they have never been in their race’s history from what we know) and with the help of one of their own, starts influencing the minds of their children. Obviously the elders would be scared and want to shut this down. It looks like the many-ears can’t remember or see a past or future where they didn’t have this class system in place and the idea of it shifting could very much lead to pain and suffering. It kind of reminds me of the civil rights movement in America, like sure it lead to the many laws that protect marginalized people today, but it came at the cost of many injuries/deaths, fights, and years of activism. The road isn’t an easy one and similarly to the movement, many people didn’t see a point. There’s a few mindsets that you can fall into for this, either you don’t believe change is possible or you do believe it is possible but ultimately would not be worth pursuing because of the consequences. It seems like most fall into the “it’s not possible” with maybe some believing that even if it could change, why change something that has works for generations. The elder in particular seems to believe the second one, that maybe life could be better for them but refuses to change anything on a chance.

It’s understandable why they wouldn’t want change to happen, especially at the expense of their children. But at the same time, younger generations are typically the ones who are less willing to stick to the status quo (queue high school musical) and engage in activism. That’s why student activism is so prevalent, you become aware of new cultures, ideas, and history and are less willing to settle with what’s “worked.” Think about the recent college activism for Palestine or the student walkouts in Florida against the “don’t say gay” bill. A few examples of a much larger trend. However, as you get older you are less willing to see things change, you become compliant and many ways, complicit. Things that seemed like there wasn’t an issue or shouldn’t be an issue are now being questioned and that forces you to question your whole system. And many don’t want to confront that.

In the case for the many-ears, they have survived off of honing their hearing skill to careers that would best benefit from having superb hearing. However, what about many-ears who don’t have incredible hearing like Nova or you simply don’t want the jobs you are trained for like the children in chapter 360. What happens if someone wants to be a florist like the Monmo-chan that doesn’t require good hearing to succeed? If you base your value on your hearing alone, does someone who doesn’t want to base their worth on that lesser in their society? Are they seen as misguided, helpless, or even traitor to your race? It seems chapter 361 confirms that fear. If you don’t have great hearing, you do not have value or worth. And sure, we can argue that he was just saying that to get him to quit teaching the students, but no matter what, his statements were ableist. There’s no other way to slice it. He literally told Nova he has no value in their society because he doesn’t have the many-ears hearing skill. He may be able to hear like most other demons, but in reference to the many-ears, he has a disability that makes him “worthless” in their eyes.

I think another thing I find interesting is that they believe (probably based on a fact(s) of some kind) that they are weak. Weak in body and weak in magic. First, weak in body is something that we can, for the most part, can agree about because of their stature. They are very small compared to most demons and this easily makes them prey to many other demons. But why do they believe that not training your strength and combat isn’t at least worth pursing? Same for magic. Right now we haven’t seen much evidence this is true since we have only seen Nova sucessfully do magic, but let’s say this is true. Does learning some easy or basic spells not seem worth it? On some part the lack physical and magical prowess seems to be innate in the many-ears, but I believe a larger issue is them internalizing this perceived weakness and deciding it’s not worth learning to better themselves. We know that there does exist spells that doesn’t require much magic from Momonoki’s flashback when she was a newbie teacher. Demons come in many shapes and sizes, including magic. This wouldn’t be a new issue that there exists a demon who has small magic reserves (like Kirio for instance). There has to be more spells that exist that you can use if you fall into this category. And just because someone is smaller doesn’t mean that can’t learn how to fight or train athletically. Sure you may not be as strong as other demons, but you can always learn how to use a weapon. At the very least, learning the theory could protect them if nothing else.

At this point, it seems like the many-ears are just shooting themselves in the foot because they’d rather not even try to learn another skill that could benefit them in the future. Sure the jack of all trades may be the master of none, but as the end of the saying goes, it’s still better than the master of one. This really feels like home schooling verses public school debate too. Like sure, the school that the love trio made isn’t perfect by any means, but it provides them with a more well rounded education that doesn’t just focus on the one. The elder talks about how mastering magic isn’t guaranteed, but couldn’t we say the same with their hearing? Just because others have succeeded doesn’t mean the children are bound to accomplish greatness just because of their hearing. You can’t ever know that.

Children are full of potential and as a teacher you are supposed to give them a plethora of chances to do new things and learn new skills. By stifling them, you essentially are saying they don’t have any other potential to grow. And as a future teacher, it really makes me mad to see that their parents don’t also see their children’s potential. Not to mention that even if you are good at something, it doesn’t mean you are destined to be happy. In fact, I think many of the skills we have are better left as hobbies or something you do for fun. Making a career out of every little skill you’ve honed makes it just that, a job. And maybe not a fun one. They are just repeating a cycle that makes everyone miserable but “works” not for their children’s benefit but for their own because well, at least they are “safe.” Idk, I’d rather be happy but that’s just me.

This is also not to say that the many-ears’ issues are all created by them, clearly other demons are also to blame for this problem. A broken system doesn’t just sprout from no where, it is created by years of oppression and oppressive thinking. What demon wouldn’t take advantage of a race that seems powerless without the strength of the powerful? It creates a back and forth systemic issue that works in theory but is broken if you even think about it for two seconds. The many-ears cannot base their entire worth on their hearing, it just causes unaddressed pain and self worth problems. And not to mention, while it may be working out for them now, it isn’t sustainable. What if at some point demons decide they no longer want to rely on the many ears and start training others for the jobs they are known for? What if a disease or virus spreads that attaches their hearing? What if a large majority of them get hurt or injured, damaging their ears? Not to mention, on a small scale everyone can be disabled in their life time. If you become disabled with your hearing, you wouldn’t be able to fall back on anything. Because you based your entire existence on being able to hear well.

Ultimately, I think this is why it needs to be Nova or Nova in the future that needs to rule the many-ears because he’s living proof that your hearing not only doesn’t define you, but also that the system is built off ableist ideals. Nova should be seen as less valuable because he was born without excellent hearing, especially when he clearly loves and cares for his people. Change is built off the backs of not those in power but by those who’s been suppressed, who want to see change for themselves and for others like them. I hope Nova can see his own value even if his people don’t right now

#nova you are beautiful I’m sorry they don’t see it yet #but they will baby boy #you deserve better #mairimashita! iruma kun #welcome to demon school iruma kun #m!ik #mairuma #mairimashita iruma kun spoilers #nova Iruma #iruma suzuki #me overanalyzing characters #character analysis #overcoming societal norms #abliesm

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piscespetals · 1 year ago

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summary: in which sevika becomes your roommate. read part three here

content: gay pinning, fluff, smut

word count: 7k

thanks for waiting! i hope you enjoy <3

Chapter Four

By the time Sevika returns, you’ve already showered, painted your nails and returned to bed.

Your body is in a lot of pain, which means that you have to take more time than usual to complete these tasks. It’s when you’re back under your duvet and taking some pain medication that you hear the apartment door open.

There’s shuffling and multiple footsteps, surely from Monica and Sevika. So you crane your neck (which is surprisingly painful) in an attempt to hear them better. But you can't.

A few moments pass of quiet murmuring and then the pair of footsteps sound again. This time they pass by your bedroom. The apartment door opens and closes. And you hear the bolt slide shut.

Your find that your muscles begin to tremble from tensing so much, and your neck holds a dull ache from the way that you're lifting it off of the pillow. You exhale slowly, relaxing into the billows and soft cushioning that your bed provides. Everything will be okay.

You know that Sevika is making her way towards you before it even happens. That pull within you…that incredible burn that won't seem to go away–No matter how much you will it to—only grows stronger. For her.

So when your door knob twists, and the wooden door creaks open, you expect it. She stands there before you, eyes rimmed red and puffy, sniffling quietly with hardened lines almost everywhere on her face. A frown—one simple expression that would probably scare others away—is what you notice the most. A telltale sign of her distress; the ultimate reason for your worry.

Silently, she walks into your room, boots clanking loudly against the floorboards. Her feet drag, as if her conversation with Monica has been the most exhausting activity of the day, despite it only being Noon.

Your duvet not only keeps you warm, but keeps you from getting out of bed. It keeps you from going against your better judgment, and it listens to the ache of your strained muscles from the accident of the previous day.

Sevika still remains in her coat, even though it’s considerably warm in your room. It doesn't seem like she’s given herself much time to get settled, with her boots still on as well as her coat, and her car keys being clutched tightly in her hand.

She sits in your bed with careful consideration, even though the air around her stirs with unease. As if she’s afraid to break your bed—as if she’s afraid to startle you.

Her grey irises watch you just as carefully. They hold the same glimmer as yesterday evening when you found her in the hospital waiting room; the same soul-crushing tenderness.

“Why?” You ask. You wince as you try to sit up against your headboard. That alarms her. “I’m okay,” You reassure. “I’m just…” You wince once more. “A little sore. Nothing the doctor didn't warn me about.”

“Did you take your medication?”

You nod, “A while ago.”

You probably should've taken a heavier dosage, but you know that either way, you’d still feel a little pain.

“Okay,” She nods, accepting your answer with furrowing brows. She swallows thickly, eyes leaving yours and darting towards the covers of your bed. They stay there as she remains deep in thought. You watch silently.

“So,” She continues.

A small smile graces your lips. “So…”

Her tongue darts out and brushes against her lower lip swiftly. You try not to follow the movement too closely, but you’d be silly to act like it doesn’t affect you.

“I broke up with her.”

You give her a small nod. “I heard.”

“She didn’t take it well.”

“I figured.”

Another lapse of silence filters into the conversation.

“You can always talk to me, you know.” You continue to watch her, despite the fact that she’s currently avoiding your gaze. “Even if it may be a hard conversation…I just want you to be comfortable.”

“Hmm.” Sevika seems to be far away–mentally.

You don’t know how to bring her back to the present. Back to you.

“Did you know–” Her voice breaks and eyes dart to you. “I was married at one point.”

Your mind swarms. Suddenly, you're pushed back to last week, when Mel accidentally revealed Sevika’s divorce to you. It was a shocking secret to be told. But you felt guilty being told such a thing. So you desperately tried to store it in a place in your brain where it would be easily forgettable.

Until now.

“What am I saying–Of course you know.” She mumbles. It’s quieter. Almost an afterthought. “Mel called me and explained that she had accidentally told you. At first, I was upset. But I realized that she told…you, of all people. You would understand. You always do.” She presses her left palm into the duvet, leaning nearly all of her weight on it. “So I waited for you.” Her eyes lift to yours. Your breath catches. “...To say something,” She rushes. Oh. Clearing her throat, “I waited for you to bring it up. But you never did.” She looks at you like she’s never seen you before, registering every detail of your face with a sense of wonder. “Why?”

You look back with slight confusion because the answer feels obvious. At least for you it does. “When I find out information like that, I want it to be because you’ve told me. And if it hasn’t come from you, then it's not my place to know.”

“I would have told you–”

“Sev,” Your hand lands on hers. Her skin feels soft underneath yours. “I love learning new things about you because I know how you are. Opening up doesn’t come easy for you. But you’re not entitled to me. So I’m happy to experience whatever parts of yourself that you’re willing to share. And if that means that it takes you a while to tell me things like this,” You shrug, squeezing her hand. “Then it takes you a while. I’m okay with that. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Well, of course you aren’t. You’re bedridden.”

“Oh god.”

She laughs.

Her hand twitches underneath yours, knuckles grazing the inner parts of your palm. “My wife and I were together for 12 years.” She starts again. “We got married young, and for a long while, things were good.” She peers out of your window, her brown study returning. “But we grew up–we changed. She wanted kids and a life outside of my parents house. She didn’t like that we had moved. She didn’t like the town. She missed the city. She missed our old way of things. And my parent’s death…Well, I’ve always believed that it was the beginning of our end. Our trajectory of life stopped coinciding. That made me angry. I had lost my parents. I had lost my current life; the comfort of routines and traditions that I had made. And now I was losing her too. That felt–” Her lips press into a thin line. “I don’t think I had ever felt so hollow before then.”

It’s almost as if the light that consistently hovers above her is now dimmed. You try to imagine a Sevika that isn’t full of life.

A Sevika that doesn’t find even the tiniest bits of happiness in the most mundane activities. A joyless Sevika who doesn’t find humor in your cooking failures and embarrassing childhood stories. A Sevika who you do not know–who is so different from the one that sits before you today. It’s nearly unfathomable.

“I tried to make things right but it just wasn’t working. Living in my parents house was too much. And even more so after the divorce. Too many memories. Too many emotions. The town…Well, there was a reason that I originally moved away from there in the first place. She had moved across the country anyways, and hadn’t looked back after our papers were finalized. I wanted a fresh start too. So I sold my parents' home, packed up and flew back here.”

Somehow, while she was talking, her fingers had become entwined with yours. For a moment, you believe that you feel her pulse. It’s racing.

You feel boneless from the realization.

You want to open your mouth and ask her if she’s alright, but a part of you also doesn't want to push her too quickly.

“When Mel and Alicia told me about you, that you were looking for a roommate,” She wets her lips again. “They had given me all these warnings about you. How particular you are about things. That you’re easily…perturbed. And slightly immature. And a bit odd.”

You scoff, ready to object and fume at the thought of them doing such a thing. But she only regards you with a warm chuckle and smile.

“And,” She adds quickly. “I was a bit thrown off at first. But I also knew that there was a reason they were recommending you to me. And when I met you, it clicked. It just made sense. That feeling of being empty,” Her hands grip yours tighter. “It was gone the first time I saw you. And I’ve just become fuller and fuller and fuller everytime that I'm near you. Everytime that I breathe the same air as you–everyday that passes with you in my life. That's not…that's not normal. It wasn't my normal, at least.”

Something inside of you breaks.

“And the fact that we were becoming friends, and that we lived together?” She continues. “It felt dangerous. Seeing you that much, being near you that much, and wanting to have more of that. While also not not wanting to ruin things…” You can tell that she’s struggling to vocalize her thoughts in a comprehensible manner. It almost feels as if she wants to say so many things at once. “Then I met Monica. And that was good. That was safer. Because she’s great, and I liked her, and she was familiar...You know? Being with her didn't make me want. It didn't fill me up, not like you…And I needed that. I needed…” Her words hang in the air as she tries to reach for a further grasp of her feelings.

“God, am I making any sense?” She turns back to you, eyes completely blown out now. You’ve never seen her so desperate... She doesn't wait for you to answer. “But then I realized that I wasn't being fair to myself. That I couldn't keep restraining myself. And not to say that I was unhappy with Monica. But she wasn't you. It's you that pulls it out of me. That makes me feel. That annoys me like no other yet manages to weave yourself into the innermost parts of myself.”

For a few seconds, the world stops spinning. And you're just a person, who’s staring back at another beautiful person, feeling seen for the first time ever in your life.

Because she gets it.

Because it’s exactly how you’ve felt ever since she came barging into your life.

You want to speak, but your voice is trapped at the back of your throat.

“I don’t expect for you to respond or for anything to change. It’s probably best that things don’t for now.” Her head is shaking, eyes downcast at your entwined hands. “I just wanted to explain it to you.”

And that’s what really cuts through to you.

Sevika isn’t the type of person to be impulsive. In fact, there’s been multiple times when her constant state of contemplation has annoyed you. So this is particularly out of character for her; to break up with Monica out of nowhere and confess said feelings.

You want to welcome it. But she’s right. This can’t happen. Not yet.

You’re smacked again with the reality of today, and you feel as if you’re experiencing a kind of vertigo. Sevika senses it.

Gently, she stands to her feet, careful not to rock your bed unnecessarily.

“You should rest.”

You don’t object. Instead, you nod, wanting to do nothing more than take a nap and hopefully wake up with a lighter weight on your shoulders. Fatigue floods you without warning.

“Okay,” You mumble, allowing your body to snuggle deeper into the blankets.

It’s only when she’s halfway through the door threshold that she pauses, peering at you over her shoulder to say, “If you need anything, I’ll be in the living room.”

The reminder brings you more comfort than you realize. Enough comfort, in fact, that you finally let yourself drift off into a peaceful slumber.

“I’m just glad you weren’t seriously hurt,” Vander mumbles. His voice is muffled as he takes a bite of his steak. He sits in the seat across from you, mouth almost fully covered by the remarkable amount of facial hair he’s managed to grow since you last saw him. But his eyes speak a thousand words. They gleam with a hint of sorrow. And for a few seconds, you watch as they glide over to Sevika, growing even more delicate before returning to you. “You're the only one who laughs at my jokes.”

You smile, swirling your spoon through the contents of food left in your bowl.

Your left leg is draped over your right, which is something that pained you to do a few days ago. You’re glad to finally be able to sit at the dinner table. The bruises from the airbag and seat belt are slowly beginning to heal. And for the first time in three days, you aren’t confined to your bed watching old reruns of The Nanny. The moment you were able to walk across your room without wincing too badly, you asked Sevika to invite Vander and Hazel over for lunch. It would be something to look forward to, since you have yet to be cleared for your return to work. Plus, you really like them.

“Because,” Hazel interjects. “Your jokes are terrible.”

“They’re a little outdated…” He rolls his eyes. “But they-”

“People like them because they’re entirely unfunny.” She continues. “It’s like seeing an ugly sweater and thinking, God. This is so fucking ugly…I love it.”

A belly laugh leaves you. The kind that nearly has you keeling over with a gummy smile.

In doing so, your socked foot accidentally bumps into one of Sevika’s shins. She’s sitting beside you, eating her food quietly with annoyingly perfect table manners. Her cologne wafts towards you for a split second and it’s crisp. And spicy. And enticingly bitter-sweet.

Her chain necklace clashes against the silver pendant that is also hanging from her neck. And her palm settles onto your knee; fingers spreading firmly against the material of your leggings with incredible sensitivity.

“Sorry,” You mumble.

“You’re good.” But her hand doesn’t retract its touch. Instead, her thumb works into the side of your leg, motions circular. You don't think you've ever been so high off of a simple touch.

Even when she pulls away, your fingers hold your spoon with a death grip and your knee tingles.

Later on, when Hazel and Vander are long gone, a sense of comfort washes over you.

Seconds before Sevika begins to wash the dishes, she brings a chair into the kitchen for you to sit in.

“That way, you can annoy me while I clean,” She mumbles, eyes downcast towards the sink. You know that it’s just an excuse for you two to be near each other. You don’t mind.

You observe her in the peaceful hush of the evening. She has an odd habit of insisting to wash the dishes herself, even though the dishwasher works perfectly fine. You usually don’t object, since Sevika always seems to take extra joy in domestic activities. But you don’t believe that you’ve fully appreciated it until now.

She stands over the sink with the sleeves of her flannel shirt rolled up to her elbows. Her hair has gotten longer, practically touching her shoulders now, and a few wispy strands get in the way of her face. She seems entirely pure right then–forehead creasing with effort and lips pursing in concentration. There’s only the sound of the running water and your racing heart. An emotion close to something deeply reverential fills you.

You’re wrapped up in one of her spare quilts that she’s given you. It smells like her. It feels like she couldn’t be any closer to you. And you feel silly for being so moved by a simple gesture. It shouldn’t feel so intimate. It shouldn’t mean so much to you. But it does.

She glances up at you briefly, almost to check as if you’re still there. And when your eyes lock, you tighten your hold on the quilt. She’s caught you staring.

But you don’t think you have the bandwidth to be able to say anything on the matter.

Of course, Sevika has caught you staring at her countless times before.

But for some reason, this time holds meaning. It has weight, and it feels like solid ground has been placed underneath you. The two of you idle that way for a while. Sevika ignores the running water and her soapy hands.

You’re reminded of the moment, days prior, when she sat on your bed and confessed the unfathomable to you:

I’ve just become fuller and fuller and fuller everytime that I'm near you.

That sentence rings through your brain so hard that you feel as if your skull rattles.

It's not until you’re sure every one of your bones will break, when she looks away. She resumes her task of dish cleaning and you hover on your stool, struggling to find something more to say.

Mel shivers besides you, wrapping one of your spare blankets around her tightly as she exhales loudly. The two of you are now outside, right in front of the apartment.

You stand much more still, wrapped in multiple layers and a scarf, and hands warm due to the mittens that Sevika gifted you a while back.

“Is it really necessary to wait for her out here?” Mel grumbles. “I’ll turn into ice soon.”

“She’s just a few minutes away.” You crane your neck to look at her levelly. “I told you to stay inside, Mel.”

“And let you wait out here in the dark by yourself?” She frowns, shivering once more.

The leaves rustle in the howling wind, and the night sky is so black that it almost looks dark blue in the moonlight. It’s getting to the time of year where sunsets are occurring sooner. Days are shortening and the weather is incredibly cold. Usually, you find this season a bit hard to enjoy. But Sevika does a good job of keeping the fireplace lit. She has a special recipe of soup that is always ready if you want some and she keeps the storage closet stocked with clean quilts in case you get cold at night. She looks after you more than you do yourself sometimes.

You’re starting to believe that this time of year isn't so bad after all.

“Do you always wait for her out here?” Mel asks. Her voice has grown quieter; tender. You glance at her out of the corner of your eye and you find that she’s gazing at you inquisitively. There’s something about this question that makes you want to shrink a little.

You don’t have the courage to meet her gaze full-on.

“Only if she needs help carrying things.”

“And…she doesn’t mind?”

“I think it took her by surprise at first. She would insist that I stay inside and that she doesn’t need help. But, I would feel bad and still help. I guess now,” You shrug. “It’s just become…a thing.”

You feel like you’re being interrogated.

Sure, Mel has been over since she moved out. But you guess she’s never visited long enough to really see how you and Sevika live.

It makes you feel anxious. Is there something bizarre about your livelihood now? It’s different from the routines that you and Mel had, but it’s not bad… right? Why does she keep grinning like that?

As if on cue, the blinding bright lights of Sevika’s vehicle appears.

“Finally.” Mel grumbles.

You bite the inside of your cheek, suppressing a smile while the black truck grows near. You squint from the headlights, which Sevika turns off almost immediately. Then you’re walking towards the driver's door.

She grins, per usual, through the tinted window. Her full lips are stretched wide tonight, showing a breathtaking smile, as she opens the door and hops down with ease.

“You’re crazy.” She mutters. But her smile remains. “You didn’t have to wait out here in the cold. You’ll get sick.”

“I’m warm.”

“You’re sniffling.” She sends you a narrow glance as she opens the back door and reaches for her work bag.

“Where’s the food?”

“On the other side. I figured I could grab i–” She pauses as you walk around the vehicle and open the passenger door. Your eyes nearly bulge out of their sockets.

“You didn’t…”

“I was hoping to surprise you.” She calls.

“You…” Coherent sentences fail to leave your lips as you reach for the oversized paper-brown bag sitting in the seat.

It’s from one of your favorite restaurants, a small shop that usually is open seasonally. You were waiting for it to re-open this year, and have been counting down the days to drive down and place your favorite order. It’s something that you’ve mentioned to Sevika only a few times, but you never thought she would be able to remember it. And with everything that has happened lately, you certainly hadn’t thought that she would go out of her way to find the place.

The truck is too large for you to be able to see her face. So you grab the food and close the door, walking around the front of the truck to see her and Mel talking to each other quietly.

“You didn’t have to get this.” You say, hugging the food to your chest. It’s warm.

Mel whispers something to Sevika as the latter turns back to you. She looks cozy at that moment. Her trench coat is black and she’s wearing a creme beanie, which appears to be keeping her ears warm. You watch as she pushes her tortoiseshell glasses up the bridge of her nose and purses her lips.

Her lips.

They look moisturized. There’s a slight gleam to them, a telltale sign that she’s applied more lip balm, and they seem puffier than normal. As if she’s been chewing on them...

She surveys you from head to toe, zeroing in on the mittens that you’re wearing before she hums underneath her breath.

“I wanted to.” She replies.

Your chest constricts. Your eyelids flutter and a sigh escapes.

Mel clears her throat. “Can you two pause the flirting so we go inside? I’m freezing my ass off!"

She doesn’t wait for a response.

Instead, she snickers at the way your eyes widen before running past you and towards the apartment.

You're bundled up wordlessly on the couch, cookies in hand as you watch Sevika bolt into the living room with a spatula.

Hazel cheers from the recliner, and Vander sits only a few feet away from you. He also stands to his feet, face reddening as his hands clench into fists. All three pairs of eyes are glued to the television screen, and your ears ring once more as your friends let out rounds of applause.

“They're trying for another one?” Sevika asks, voice full of mirth.

Vander doesn't break his gaze away from the screen when he answers, “They have enough time to do it. I wouldn't be surprised!”

It's another football Sunday.

You don't follow sports closely so you can't exactly say that you understand the intricacies of what they're talking about. But you can guess that their team is winning by the ridiculous grin on Sevika’s face. She’s supposed to be making lunch, but she keeps returning from the kitchen to get an update on the score. You think it's a funny sight to see, considering the fact that there's a television in the kitchen where she can watch the game. But it’s probably more enjoyable to be viewing it with everyone else.

“Who’s the goalie again?” You ask, hoping to get a reaction out of Sevika. She doesn't particularly enjoy when you fuck up the football terminology. The first few times it was accidental. Now you just do it because you know it'll get a rise out of her.

“Sweetheart…” She doesn't look at you, turning on her heels to walk back to the kitchen. Despite the pet name, you see the slight shake of her head, and there's also a buried layer of tightness in her voice.

It takes all of your strength to refrain from laughing. “It's only a question!”

“Do you not remember my answer from the last dozen times you’ve asked this?” Her voice reverberates off the kitchen walls and travels to where you are in the living room. Before you can reply, Hazel and Vander jump out of their seat again, this time screeching unbearably loud.

“That was a fucking foul!” Hazel’s eyes are deadly as they glare at the screen. Vander's jaw begins to grind.

You hear the sound of footsteps before Sevika appears again, this time with frazzled eyes and a towel draped over her shoulder.

“What happened?”

You swing your leg at the very last minute, muscles tensing as your eyes widen towards the spill before you. “Shit!”

Then you’re laughing at yourself, nearly causing another spill from your piping hot mug of tea.

“Oh god.” Mel grumbles but you can hear a smile in her tone. “What have you done now?”

Another giggle leaves you. “I can’t walk without spilling apparently.”

Within seconds, Mel is already wiping the tile floor with a clean towel.

“Have I told you how much I love you?” You profess, making your way towards her sitting room. You’re visiting the house that she and Alicia have just recently purchased. It’s a bit ostentatious for your liking. But it’s everything that Mel deserves. A part of you even believes that she’ll forever deserve so much more–an entire kingdom of her own if she truly desires.

“Of course!” She croons. “Every time I help you with your messes.”

“....I wouldn’t say every time.”

Her hand slides to your lower back, guiding you towards the nearest piece of furniture. Even though the accident was a a few weeks ago, she still treats you as if you’re susceptible to breaking at any moment. It’s been a little suffocating. But you’re still grateful for her nonetheless.

“Is that a new sweater?” She asks while you sit down. Your gaze falls to the crew neck that you’re wearing, a strong whiff of cologne filling your nostrils.

“Oh. No.” You tug at the collar. “It's Sev’s.”

Silence looms in the air as you anxiously wait for her response. This is a new development. It's not often that you're walking around with Sevika's articles of clothing.

But Mel’s response never comes. When you peer at her, she regards you with gentle eyes and lips that slowly curve. She says nothing more on the subject.

Instead, she hands you the bowl of fresh soup she’s just made. “It's hot. Be careful.”

Of course you don't listen and burn your tongue upon the first sip.

And, as always, Mel scolds you.

And then she helps you.

You’d be lying if you said that you weren’t stressed out.

Between handling the car repairs from the accident and updating the insurance claim, as well as the weird energy now circling you and Sevika—everything just seems to be a little too much right now.

The first mishap is when Sevika comes home from work to find you with both of your arms hanging in the air, and wax strips attached to your armpits. You usually like to pick up hobbies when you’re stressed out and you’ve always wanted to try waxing. But you hadn’t thoroughly watched the youtube video. So what was originally supposed to be an exciting new activity, quickly became anything but that.

You had been pacing the living room, tears streaming down your cheeks as you tried to work up the courage to pull off the strip. That’s when Sevika unlocks the front door and walks through the threshold, bundled up in layers of clothing as a draft from the chilly evening is brought in with her.

You halt your steps, eyes widening and nose still running.

She blinks back at you, just as bewildered, with lips forming into an 'O' and eyes trailing up and down your physique. “Is everything okay?”

That’s what causes the dam to break; your vision blurs and your chest rises with panic. Then you're crying, “I can’t rip it off!” Your arms raise again, flailing in the air ridiculously as you bring your armpits to the center of her attention.

Her eyebrows lift as realization dawns on her. “Oh,” Is that amusement? Slowly, her lips stretch into a small grin and her eyes begin to sparkle in a way that you usually adore. But not now. Not during an emergency! “Oh, sweetheart.” Her lips press against each other, a poor attempt to hide her mirth, as she kicks the door shut and locks it. Then she’s walking towards you, “Surely, it’s not that bad.”

“It’s awful!” Your eyes start to well again as you gesture towards your pits.

She concedes, gazing at you with an annoying amount of warmth. “Okay, it’s awful.”

You can tell that she’s agreeing with you just to provide comfort. And you hate that it almost works.

“I’ve waited too long, Sev. My skin will rip off!”

She laughs.

Laughs!

You cry harder.

“You’re really,” She inhales deeply, trying to calm her chuckles. “...Quite the thespian.”

“Sevika!”

“Okay, okay. Here,” One of her hands press into the small of your back and guides you towards the nearby couch. “I’ll help. Just breathe.”

Your stress manifests itself in other ways, like when you start bringing home files from your job and reviewing them at night. It’s what you do to keep yourself busy—to keep yourself from hanging around Sevika like a lost puppy every night.

You can tell that she notices it. She stops by your room every once and a while to check on you, and when your replies are uncharacteristically short, she hovers.

She doesn’t truly address it until the fifth night rolls around and you’re holed up in your room again, sitting on your bed with small mountains of paperwork around you. As always, she knocks on the door, you tell her to come in, and she pads into the room with a cup of tea and a snack for you.

When you peer up at her, you notice that she’s wearing one of those cotton t-shirts that always look heavenly on her. Sweatpants hang loosely from her hips, dipping just enough to where you catch a glimpse of her happy trail. And her v-lines are so deep that they’re practically etched into stone. You blink through clouds of brain fog, trying to will yourself to continue breathing. But it’s hard.

“You should take a break,” She mumbles.

Pulling your eyes away from her, you move your paperwork aside, stretching out the sore muscles in your legs. “I’m not, like,” You blink once more. She smells so good. “Overwhelmed or anything.”

Carefully, she places the mug on your nightstand. You watch as her eyes remain downcast. Her hair is freshly washed, slightly damped and tucked behind her ears. The ends are a bit split now, resting ever-so-slightly against the tops of her broad shoulders.

“Here,” She holds out the small ceramic plate towards you. It has a couple of toasted butter croissants. One of your favorites.

Nimbly, you take the plate. Without thinking, you pull your legs to your chest, “You can sit,” And your eyes travel to the spot in your bed where your feet once were. She appraises you for a few seconds, a habit of hers that you’ve grown accustomed to. However, at this moment, it’s difficult to not feel affected by it. It’s difficult to ignore the way that it makes you yearn for so many things.

When she sits down, you notice that it’s much closer than you anticipated.

Then she mutters, “Are you avoiding me?”

So much for beating around the bush.

Something about the way she cuts straight to the point–the way that her gaze has yet to leave you–makes your gut twist. You take this moment as an opportunity to shove a piece of croissant into your mouth.

“Because if you are–” Her right palm presses into the duvet. It’s only inches away from your foot. “If it’s about what I told you last month, then we can just act like that never happened.”

You swallow your mouthful of food, wincing slightly because you failed to chew it completely before doing so. When you glance back up at Sevika, you marvel at the swirl of her irises. She considers you seriously with bated breath.

Then, that’s when you feel it; the sense of complete satisfaction.

Because of her.

A part of you feels silly because how on earth could you run from this? And why would you ever want to avoid this? Avoid her?

There’s an element of stress that you’ve been feeling because this is all new. And it’s scary, and single handedly the reason why she broke up with Monica. But it’s also real and rare and, because of that, something that should absolutely be cherished. Not thrown away.

I’ve just become fuller and fuller and fuller everytime that I'm near you.

Over the course of this past month, those words have repeated so much in your mind that they’re practically tattooed onto your hippocampus. It’s all you’ve been able to think about, even during the shifts at your job. Even during the calls with your insurance company and the repair shop.

Sevika’s voice always manages to sit at the forefront.

The bed squeaks as she leans more weight onto her left hand, an action that allows her to shift closer to you. You rest your plate beside you on a pillow, croissants and hunger now discarded.

“We don’t have to forget it.” You find yourself saying. You think of the countless mornings that she makes you breakfast, and the times that she sits with you in the living room despite her lack of interest in the television programs you pick. You think of the evenings that you stand outside the apartment, waiting for her to arrive home from the store; how she always bears the heaviest grocery loads in spite of your objections.

Shaking your head, you correct yourself. “I don’t want to forget it.”

Your mind travels to all the other moments that you’ve shared with Sevika. The notes that she leaves on the refrigerator, encouraging you to have a good day. And the spare blankets that she always washes for you; in case you become cold during the night.

Then there's the fact that she doesn’t become angry at your music playing in the late hours of the day. And her unwavering forgiveness after everything that happened with Monica; after all the times you’ve tested her patience.

“It’s just that this is so new,” You gesture to the small space between you and her. “And I don’t want to mess it up. And on top of that, I’m trying to navigate everything with the car wreck. It’s just... It’s hard.” Your breathing becomes uneven when you exhale.

“I can help.” She shifts closer. The tips of her fingers nearly brush against your socked foot.

“I can’t ask that of you. It’s my mess.”

“It can be my mess too.” Smiling, she dips her head to level her gaze. Her breath wafts towards you and it smells of peppermint. “I don’t mind.”

“But–”

“It’s not a problem at all for me. Nothing about you is.”

She doesn’t quite touch you, but you don’t know if what she’s doing is much different. With her sitting so close…you’re not sure if it truly matters. You can still feel the heat of her skin radiating off of her, as well as the warmth of her piercing stare. She watches you with eyes that could work out every kink in your body upon a single glance.

“You’re already giving me rides to and from work,” You begin. This is your last try—your final effort to keep her at arms length. “It’s too kind of you, Sev.”

Sevika’s always been the polite one out of you two—that’s not a secret. And it’s even been joked about a few times by Mel.

“Why don’t you want me to be here for you?” Her head tilts as she asks this.

You blink, almost perplexed, “Well there has to be an expiration date at some point, right?”

Her response is slow. “...I’m not following.”

“For you to always be so acquiescent,” You rub your palms against the top of your thighs. “Even when I have nothing to give you in return. It doesn't make sense. There has to be a point where you won't feel so obliged anymore. An expiration date—” Your rambling halts when her hand wraps around your ankle. Gently, she presses her thumb against the base of your shin, then she works into your skin. A delicate massage.

Slowly, she tugs. You allow your leg to be pulled towards her. Pretty soon, your other leg follows and she readjusts herself, so that the back of your thighs are almost resting on her lap. She's close. Really close.

Even though your heart is racing, out of mere instinct your hands stretch towards her.

“An expiration date will happen at some point and you won't want this. You won't want…me. And that's okay. Really. It’s—”

“Not possible.” When she smiles, you fall apart. It's the worst kind of heartbreak; the kind that’s painstakingly beautiful.

One of her hands continue to drape over your thighs, holding you in her lap as if you’re something to revere. Her other hand settles on top of your restless fingers, which happen to be kneading the hem of her shirt. She halts your fidgeting with a small squeeze.

“That’s not possible,” She echoes, this time a little quieter.

Her pupils are dilated with a fixed gaze, zeroing in on your nose. Then your lips. Oh.

As time passes, you try to swallow but you can't.

Out of complete desire, you reach up and allow your fingertips to brush against the warmth of her skin. She watches you cautiously, almost alarmed, because you’ve never done anything like this before. Your knuckles graze alongside the sharpness of her cheekbones. With bated breath, she waits. Waits and waits and waits while you feel every inch of her skin.

It's unknown territory that you've stepped into. Yet it feels entirely natural all the same.

Your lips part when she leans in, and another cloud of her scent wafts around you. It soothes you and that fullness inside of you peaks to the highest of heights. It bursts, creating an impactful explosion—so much so that you can no longer hold yourself back.

You swallow, finally, and lean forward too. It feels like too much time has passed when you close the distance. Her breathing stutters, eyes remaining on your lips before they flutter shut within the millisecond that she meets you.

Then, all at once, you feel your skin buzz. You hear the soaring of your heart when it shoots high up into the sky. You taste the sweetness of her lips and the warmth of her breath. It's good. Too good.

When she moans, the sound vibrates into you. It zooms past the thudding of your heart, through the walls of your veins and soles of your feet. Your body reacts and you angle closer to her immediately.

She pulls you into her lap with ease. Because that's how it always is with Sevika: easy. Kissing her is innate and you start to question how you’ve denied yourself such a privilege all this time.

Sevika with her soft skin and shining grey eyes and warm smiles. This is her in front of you, kissing you back and accepting all that you're giving her without question. Without hesitation.

This is real.

You press into her again as your arms lock around her shoulders. Another moan leaves her.

This is definitely real.

It's not until your pulling away for air when you allow your eyes to open.

The room is practically spinning. Oh god.

She nips at your neck while her hands find solace underneath your shirt. Her palms are flat against your lower back and fingers spread. And when something soft escapes your throat, her lips curve into a smile. She helps you sink lower into her lap—you're practically humping her now—with a grip that is both heady and encouraging.

“You can have me,” She says, her breath hot against your skin.

You blink slowly, scrambling to keep up with the sound of her voice.

You're slow to reply, so she pulls you two apart, just so that she can look directly at you. Her forefinger brushes against the tip of your chin, eyes locking with yours, and expression full of intent.

“Anything you want,” She mutters. It's hard to not become distracted by her lips; they're puffier than usual from the kissing. “Just say the words and I’ll give it to you.”

You're not sure why it happens at this exact moment, but your muscles lock up. Your vision starts to blur as you peer at her with swimming orbs, hands gripping her shoulders shakily.

Shit. You're definitely in too deep now...

"That's dangerous.”

She watches you for a few moments longer. Then, “How so?”

“Because I’ll want all of you.” A tear trickles down your cheek. Your cards are now laid out on the table.

“Then have all of me.”

Your hand curls around the back of her neck when she kisses your cheek—right where your tear is.

“Just take it. All of it,” She whispers. Another kiss, this time it lingers longer. “I'm yours to have anyways.”

That breaks you. Truly breaks you.

It’s hard to wrap your brain around how serious she is. But you start to believe her when her fingers push into you for the first time, eliciting a whimper from your lips. And as her fingers reach deeper and deeper, she swallows every sound you make with visceral pleasure. It satisfies her beyond anything famothable, to work into you and watch you unfold before her. Knowing that such a thing pleases her is what drives you mad.

It’s what has you crying please, please, please when she thrusts into you, watching you thank whatever God can hear you.

Then she begins to tell you that you can let go, and that you’re doing so good.

Because, you're really fucking special, and she wants you to know that. To feel that.

Because she needs you to know that. She needs this and she needs you. She will never stop needing you.

Because, God, you're so fucking perfect.

And when you’re cresting with tears rolling down your cheeks, blubbering about her having your heart and that she’s it for you—because you're certain there’ll never be anyone else—

She’s nodding, starry eyed and wanting, whispering, IknowIknowIknow as each thrust is fucked into you with delicious fervor.

Because, you're it for her too.

And she doesn't mind helping you realize that. Even if you demand that she drills it into you for the rest of the night.

#piscespetals writing #au writing #sevika #sevika x reader #arcane au #fanfic #arcane netflix #fluff #arcane women #smut is always a challenge for me to write but here's my rendition of it i suppose #there'll be more of in the chapter five #roommate!sevika #sevika writing #sevika pls marry me

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enmstorytime · 15 days ago

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The Amusement Park Chapter 3

My husband and I weaved through the crowded amusement park, my hand in his, my eyes on the ground, as he guided us. I could not afford to look up. The sun shine and breeze on my bare torso and the memory of the hot ginger dilf had made me too horny to handle seeing anyone else in the park. My mind kept playing through different possibilities, but as long as I didn't look at a specific man and wish his clothes away, the magic wouldn't happen.

I thought of the Chris Evans looking security guard my husband had told me about, and I imagined melting Chris Evan clothes away like that scene in Fantastic Four, only there would be no coat to hold around his crotch.

I thought about catching the ginger dilf before the security guard. Maybe in another world we'd sneak him to a bathroom where my husband and I could hide him in a stall, and promise to buy him clothes in exchange for letting us suck him off.

Without having that fantasy of getting to touch the dilf, I wondered where he was in reality. Had the security guard led him out of the park? Had he been banned? Or had security taken pity on him? Had his wife had to fork over too much money to buy him mismatched clothing that he could wear around the park for the rest of the day. I couldn't help but resent the universe a little. In a perfect world, that dilf would be allowed (forced is a better word here) to walk around the park for the rest of the day without his clothes. HIs wife would have to roll her eyes and get used to the world staring down what she probably assumed was hers and only hers to see. And he would have to wander around the park, his pale hairy skin practically glowing in the sunlight. How much sunscreen would he have to use? Would I have the balls to offer to help him get his back?

"I have an idea," my husband whispered in my ear. "What if I tell you when to look up?"

He pulled me into a line for one of the roller coasters. I imagined a man directly in front of us for the whole time we stood in line standing patiently in front of us, butt naked because I melted his clothing. I imagined us chatting with him, as we waited for the ride, his penis dangling in front of us, a shy hand rubbing the back of his neck, with a slight blush on his cheeks. At first, he'd cover his cock, but my husband and I would reassure him we'd both seen plenty of penises before and his was beautiful. But I knew that wouldn't work. In my twelve years of having this gift, I'd never met a man who remailed calm after his clothes vanished from his body.

I imagined the conversation that could put a man at ease: Hey man, I don't want you to be surprised, but I think you're incredibly sexy. It's my birthday, and for whatever reason, the universe has given me the power to dissolve other men's clothes. I'd love to dissolve every single part of your clothing off of your sexy body. You shouldn't have to hide all that beauty. Who would give me the opportunity to say all of that? And even if I said all of that, who would believe me?

The line took twenty minutes as my husband held my hand leading me through the line, while my mind played through the scenario of meeting a man who would be flattered by my interest, and willing to just stand around so I could soak up all the beauty of his naked flesh.

An attendant led me and my husband to the gates to board the ride. There were two men in front of us (I could tell by the shoes and the hairy calves, before I quickly bounced my eyes away from them to a spot of empty ground). The gates opened, and my husband pulled me forward as the two men stepped through the gates to board the two-seater ride.

"Now," my husband whispered.

My gut clenched. I didn't know which one of the two that my husband meant, and as I looked up, I took them both in, realizing we had spent the entire line standing behind another gay couple. They were what we would call, "boyfriend twins." Two twinks, with the haircut fade, lean, lanky bodies, clean shaven faces. Hairless arms and legs.

This was going to cost me, but their lap bar was down, the ride music had started, they'd be gone in seconds.

And they'd ride the entire ride naked.

Both of them.

I only saw a flash of their bare skin as they squealed about their suddenly naked state of being. The ride launched them away. I imagined their cocks bouncing against their thighs and against the lap bar, as they flew up the first hill, then down, through a few barrel rolls, a loop, more ups and downs. They screamed the whole way.

My husband laughed beside me, but I wasn't laughing. My shoes, socks, and shorts had all vanished. I was standing in my underwear. Thankfully, all of my underwear (the boxer shorts over briefs over a jockstrap) had stayed, and I wasn't mooning anyone behind us.

There was commotion on the platform around us. The attendants had realized that two of their passengers had had their clothing melted off of them. So had everyone waiting to board the ride. Their clothes had been present one second, gone the next. Now we were all staring waiting for the naked men to return.

And once they returned, it was a matter of time before people realized I was very close to joining them in their nudity. If I wasn't careful, I would be getting a taste of my own medicine very soon.

#enm #gay #12 days of enm mas

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rev-glut · 1 year ago

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2023 Fic Recommendations

A list of all my favorite fics that I read this year that I wanted to share. Many of them and more can be found under my “fic rb” tag. A lot of them are also available on AO3. Please read any and all warnings and tags on fics and respect any boundaries writers may have.

Peter Parker

The very first one of this year was and they were roommates by @rowniebow. A sweet, gay story that I loved and hold dearly. Summary: peter parker and y/n y/l/n are roommates, and if there’s anything to know about them it’s that they hate living together.

The next is Florence by @periprose. An ongoing multi-chaptered fic. It’s great every time I see a new update. Every turn is incredible as they deal with reconciliation and a few wedding mishaps. Summary: You and Peter Parker are former childhood best friends. As next door neighbours, you and him spent a great deal of time together, either at school, playing video games, or during your yearly summer vacations at Florence, Italy. But after you drifted away from him- you both went to different colleges, and you figured you wouldn't need to bother him anymore with your unrequited crush that you had never spoken of but clearly showed symptoms of- things are very awkward. It's even more so when you receive an invitation to Harry and MJ's destination wedding, located at Florence, of course.

Peter B. Parker

A different Peter Parker, all the same love. The first one is it’s rotten work by @cockdestroyer32. It’s soft and incredible. Summary: Peter's been a wreck after his divorce with MJ. Thankfully, you're there to look after him.

Similarly, is an AO3 work called That’s Rough Buddy by Cats_Cradle. Genuinely all the love to ITSV Peter. Navigating through both their individual issues and loneliness together while Peter also deals with hiding Spider-Man was so sweet and soft, at times messy. Summary: In which Peter 'chaotic mess' Parker meets his match. Excerpt: “Heights and alcohol, typically not the best combination.” A male’s voice teased. You bit the inside of your cheek and scowled, turning to bark back an insult at the nosy man. But there was no one on either side of you, which made your anger fizzle into more of an irritated confusion. “Great, now I’m hearing things.” You scoffed and tilted your head back to take another swig from the bottle out of spite. As you tilted your head back though, a blob of red and blue caught your eye. Sticking to the wall above you was none other than your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man.

Miguel O’Hara

I’ve only really got one recommendation for this one and it’s Every You Every Me by @astroboots. I already read and liked some of her other work, this one did not disappoint at all. It was exhilarating and interesting. The buildup, dynamics, and twists were all incredible. Summary: You are falling from the 44th floor of the Chrysler building when you’re saved by the unfriendly neighborhood Spider-man.

Matt Murdock

I fell in love with this man this year and it only feels right to start off with @bellaxgiornata. All of her work is incredible but I’m specifically adding Falling For The Devil and All These Years to this list. Both are ongoing series. FFTD is a series that sticks with me and I think about at random times. It’s sweet, fun, angsty, and in the author’s own words, “spicy”. You really get to see the whole relationship develop and them navigate it and life, up and down. ATY is a lot of hurt, a little comfort later on. College, lack of communication (that’s not frustrating to witness), growth and trying to push forward and move on, yet hopeless devoted to another. I stayed up until nearly 4AM reading this one. FFTD Summary: This is a very long series/collection of one-shots about a nervous/awkward journalist Reader meeting, falling for, and dating Matt Murdock. Meant to feel like a realistic look into dating Matthew Murdock and all the sweet, vulnerable, sexy, and dark sides that come with him. Reader also gradually gains more confidence in and out of the bedroom as the relationship progresses. ATY Summary: You met Matthew Murdock unexpectedly at Columbia University and you couldn't deny that there was an instant attraction–for you. But for Matt, you became as close of a friend to him as Foggy did. As the years pass by, your feelings only grow for your best friend, but all you can do is watch as he dates and sleeps with every other woman on campus and eventually in New York City but you.

Next is Of blood and worship and Go to him, therefore, by the sea by @raelwrites. I love a lot of Rael’s writing, but I’m sticking to these two for this list (as much as I love Gunpowder and cinnamon). Stories about non-humans are awesome. The descriptions and dynamic in Of blood and worship is so good and merman with a human bonding is a classic. Of blood and worship Summary: You, an elderitch horror with a soft spot for humans, are awoken from your slumber by a lonely voice of one young Matt Murdock. You stayed by his side constantly, helping him, keeping him company. And you tried to keep him from knowing you were there. But what would happen if the ever vigilant blind lawyer takes notice of you? Go to him, therefore, by the sea summary: You save an injured merperson in the caverns you frequent often. And now, he's there every time you venture down there. Communicating with the being is hard, but you learn how to talk to each other. A story of longing-

Third is The Key You Wear by @devils-dares. I love a good exes to lovers, people with strained relationships that still deeply care for each other. This is that with some gentle loving. Summary: you get a voicemail from your ex, who is very much not well. you visit him the next day to make sure all is well (spoiler alert: it's not)

Please, Be Okay by @farfromstrange. A classic vigilante trope of worry and concern if your beloved will return, the dread as it doesn’t look like and then a spiral. This one is just incredible. Summary: When Matt doesn't text or answer your calls during a night out, you can't help but suspect the worst.

This one-shot is a little heavier, still a great read. Muted Dawn by @ellephlox. Life’s dangerous, it’s rough, Matt Murdock being around certainly helps a little though. Summary: You get mugged in the middle of the night, but Matt isn't there to save you.

Last of Matt’s is, The End of the World and Everything After by @up-in-space-reading. Blip stories about Matt are always so interesting but this one is so sweet. Loved watching them heal and learn as they continue to build their life together. Summary: Half of the universe is turned into dust because of Thanos. You and Matt were left behind to pick up the pieces of yourselves and try to learn how to live without the most important people in your lives.

Moon Knight

First Moon Knight fic is Small Surprises by @angel-of-the-moons. A sweet fic featuring autistic Steven as he bonds with Reader’s daughter along with the other boys. Eventually they fall in love and the boys fit into her and her daughter’s little domestic life rather easily. For the most part. Ongoing fic. Summary: N/A

A Night to Remember by @xcalciumx. This one is so interesting, especially the demon. Jake reveal combined with a fight against, along with a demon. Summary: A nice night with your boyfriend Marc quickly unveils into chaos. A third altar? A horrifying demon? Your half-assed Egyptian God of Wind and Air, Shu? What could possibly go wrong

not him by @loud-mouth-loser. I love stories of “I love you, you do not. I still love you, regardless.” along with, “the people we love, do not love us” and then they bond over that and cope with it together. Multi-chaptered. Summary: you’ve been steven’s best friend for a while and have had a crush on him as long as you’ve known him. unfortunately, his eyes are on layla, his alter’s wife. let's just say, you’re not the only one put off by this. this is a story of how you and marc bond over your sorrows.

Last, but not least, is Constellations by @asimplearchivist. A sweet, ongoing series with gentle love and action as the boys grapple with everything post-S1 and falling in love. Their relationship with the Reader is so sweet. The full multi-chaptered fic is available on AO3 to registered users. Summary: steven, unbeknownst to him, meets the love of his life at one of its lowest points.

X-Men

This is section is just to recommend more of Rael’s work. Florentine and Wasurenai by @raelwrites. Both are ongoing multi-chaptered fics with poly relationships. Rael writes dynamics and relationships in a way that I just love. I love their world building too. Florentine Summary: Right so here is the harem-esque royalty au fic (Titled achromatopia) with some of the marvel characters. You are a newly coronated Emperor to the Empire of Nocturnus, having gained the throne after your father's death as well as your mutiny against the heir to the throne. The Empire had gotten corrupt, and you took over to remove that mold from the place. But as an illegitimate child of the former Emperor, you have little to no political influence and have no experience in finances. How could you cover for those flaws? Well, you could get married to all the geniuses you meet... Wasurenai Summary: N/A

#fic rec #peter parker x reader #peter b parker x reader #miguel o’hara x reader #matt murdock x reader #moon knight x reader #steven grant x reader #marc spector x reader #jake lockely x reader #erik lensherr x reader

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content-d3leted · 7 months ago

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Undertale is actually the best game of all time. (Prepare yourself for some rambling lol)

Its characters are so unique and loveable, and the plot and the universe its in has so much depth, there's so many easter eggs throughout the game, all the different AUs are so creative, and the soundtrack is AMAZING-the songs are so incredibly intertwined with one another with all the motifs throughout the music, it is just an all-round immaculate franchise, and I adore it.

I can't quite remember how long my interest in it lasted, maybe 2 years? But I first discovered it in September 2019, by watching jacksepticye's playthrough he did in 2015, where I became completely hooked on it! I remember learning all the names of the songs in Undertale's soundtrack by heart in chronological order, and also drawing the characters for hours on end!! Genuinely one of the most enjoyable experiences of my life.

My favourite character is Papyrus (NYEH-HEH-HEH!!), with Mettaton coming in at a close 2nd place. But to be honest, every single one of the characters are brilliant!!

For about 4 years I've been trying to kill Sans (unsuccesfully), but I can almost get past the last stage by now, so thats progress at least..but tbh it was such a horrible feeling to murder everyone else, especially Papyrus, on the genocide route- but it had to be done I suppose.

Undertale means ALOT to me, especially since it helped me get through some super difficult times back when I was in school, due to really bad depression etc. It also helped me make an irl friend too (who is now one of my best friends)! So yeah, undertale truly means the world to me.

And deltarune is just the same, completely incredible!! The battle theme (Rude Buster) is one of the greatest game songs I've ever heard, and I often listen to it on repeat. I had a short second phase of undertale/deltarune a year after my first one, where I became obsessed with Sweet, Cap'n and K_K. They are such good characters aaaaa I love them!!! I can't wait for chapter 3 of deltarune to be released soon!!

But omg the undertale/deltarune soundtracks are so fun to play on instruments (especially piano for me), especially fallen down, home, your best friend, death by glamour...the list goes on lol.

Undertale also introduced me to my first ever gay people so I have Undyne, Alphys and Mettaton to thank for making me realise I was in the LGBT+ community!!

So in conclusion, Undertale is the best game. Yes.

Why are you reading this surely you have better things to do

#undertale #sans #papyrus #mettaton

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deafeninggardenerpanda · 1 year ago

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i'd love to hear about manmaru metadede !!! i heard it's really Gay but no one ever details it. not a lot of it is translated too, as far as i know, but i really like it.. any excuse to talk about something you like is good too

NO YEA not a lot is translated and the manga itself is already more niche compared to like, mopupupu so its not too well known. translation efforts have really started picking up the past year though (shoutout to @/kirby-manga-translated they do great work). if it needed to be restated for new followers since i havent tl'd in a while, i know a decent amount of japanese so i read them on my own :)c

shoutout to my guy @/rosakikoza as well for giving me his scans hehe. the majority of images below are his or taken from his scans. the rest are mine

*deep breath* the tangent. im gonna need to put this under a cut dont mind me 😍😍😍 did i say 3 paragraphs? i meant 20. like 20 paragraphs

meta knight is absolutely pathetic and incredibly down bad for dedede this manga. its adorable. multiple people ive talked to or seen have come to the conclusion it seems like he has a huge crush on him. a quick brief for those who dont know but this mangas meta is admittedly Veryyyyy different from how you'd expect a meta knight to be. uncharacteristically friendly and cheerful and. pathetic is really the best word for it. hes kinda a loser. incredibly protective of dedede, he switches between two modes of fussing over him quite a bit and semi-often going into incredible rage bloodlust modes over protecting him or his image (youll see a good amount of jp fanwork depict this version of him as a yandere for that reason)

theres also been more than one occasion where meta knight tries to commit seppuku upon accidently doing something he sees as unforgivable towards his king (its in the chapter i just screenshotted above too, another time he broke dededes clock and freaked out about it). i-. dont consider this a cute ship thing for the record im just stating it to emphasize the extent of metas obsession towards dedede this manga. the mans got Problems...

apart from that, also quite differing from most interpretations of both of them, both of them seem to genuinely really like spending time around each other all the time. it comes off as casually domestic and is very cute...

regardless of my attempts to brief it, i dont feel like im explaining this very well so lemme just show you a frankly ridiculous amount of reasons for why i keep feeling like this mangaka ships metadede

-fake kiss: self explanatory

-fake proposal: also self explanatory

mk: Will you marry me!?

ddd: Yes!

context for this scene is that theyre rehearsing for a play, but actually its later revealed that meta knight is playing the princess while dedede is playing the male protag so im not exactly sure it makes sense that hes the one proposing here. my speculation is that to make the proposal seem legit for the gag they Had to use meta LMAO but thats just my take

also to be noted, right after kirby hears the proposal he immediately runs off and tries to tell everyone the news before ddd+mk stop him and explain that its fake. hes not thrown off or weirded out at the idea that they could be getting married in the slightest. kirby says gay rights Real i love him sm

-this one is from what i call the memory loss chapter:

dedede loses his memories from getting hit in the head too hard. the gang figures out that beating dedede up or otherwise causing him injury causes him to regain some of them back though, to which kirby attempts to harm him with increasingly violent means, much to meta knights horror. mk spends the entire chapter trying to protect dedede from him, and it doesnt work obviously, but after a particularly hard hit dedede remembers everyone again... except for meta knight. to which meta knight gets upset about and lets kirby lay into dedede for real. you see where people get the yandere personality from now right. i dont recall this trait coming out too often but ill talk more about it later

-the whole chapter thats a cinderella retelling with dedede and meta knight. also also self explanatory COME ON LOOK AT THIS ONE. LOOK AT IT.

mk: Y…You're…

ddd: Wow, he's so beautiful!! It's like I'm dreaming…!

-theres the mangaka chapter which is a more recent one

the gang makes manga for dedede. meta knight's manga is about how cool, brave, and heroic dedede is. mysteriously enough however the only thing hes good at is drawing dededes face and nothing else. the implications of this one drive me absolutely insane. is it supposed to imply that meta knight stares at his face all day?? admires his appearance??? he looks at him so much he basically has his face memorized????? HUH???????? theres no heterosexual explanation for this. acting like a teenager with a crush out here got damn

=various images im sharing out of context because they r cute

head pats. holding hands and reaching the goal together. peak.

KNIGHT DRESSUP FOR THE KNIGHT. AHAAHGH

ddd: Hoho, pretty spiffy don'cha think?

mk: Ohh!? It suits you!!

fellas is it gay to shout "OHH! META KNIGHT!!" with a dopey grin on your face upon being saved like a damsel in distress

sometimes meta knight acts domestic as fuck too. his copy abilities as he states are: cook! clean!! and sleep!!!

regarding my thoughts on their dynamic in this series overall, i think theyre absolutely adorable. meta knight emits dog energy in this one. eager golden retriever towards dedede, though dedede has his sweet moments towards meta knight too. (viewing it with a shipping lens just for this post ofc) while meta is the more active crusher, some of the stuff above seems to imply that dedede has feelings in return as well :') they just get along really well too its great. theres a different chapter where they perform as a comedy duo. theyve done plays in multiple chapters. its my hc for these versions of them that they love doing performances of all kinds together and do a lot of rehearsals and writing in their free time...

and the yandere stuff i feel like i should address as well. i try not to take some aspects Too seriously because its to be expected things are over emphasized for the sake of the joke with gag mangas. but oh man the man definitely has problems. he needs therapy. i tried to be transparent in listing those aspects as well so people can make their own conclusions on it But theres one more thing id like to mention regarding that

meta knights personality has been shifting to be different from what i listed, as of the most recent volume. my beloved forgotten land arc... a first for this series in that, while the chapters still retain their gag humor and dont take themselves that seriously, its a serialized story that mostly follows along with the game plot that lasts nearly the whole volume (as opposed to other game arcs in this manga being episodic stories, using the games as their theme rather than a full on setting). with the more serious tone of the serialized story, theres a frankly startling hint of character development i never wouldve expected from a gag manga at the end of it

kirby gets ko'd the first round of the meta knight cup so meta knight joins the meta knight cup instead. turns out when he does that the final boss of the cup is dedede. meta knight Really doesnt want to hurt dedede and so dedede promptly kicks his ass without a second thought and wins the tournament. while the crowd cheers for dedede's victory, meta and dedede have a small talk where dedede tells him he doesnt need to fuss so much about hurting him/him getting hurt. presumably this is supposed to mark the end of meta knights intense overprotectiveness because (its never been clear-cut due to the nature of the manga previously, so its a lil hard to say) dededes shown he can handle himself, or like, isnt some fragile thing. i really hope itll stick around because i think its a great addition to both of their characters. the meta-knights have also been appearing way more frequently as of very recent chapters (ones that havent been compiled into a volume yet) which seem to also hint to meta knight getting more independence to his character from dedede's loyal servant. im very excited to see where it goes :D

and like, last last disclaimer if anyone needed it; even tho i love metadede and i like to see things through ship glasses sometimes i absolutely try my best to keep my biases out of my translations. putting out accurate translations means a lot to me! this entire post is me purposely putting the ship glasses on so please dont take it as "omg metadede is canon in this manga". you know way back when i was the only active translator for this manga someone tweeted at the mangaka on twitter mentioning that there were english translations around and he replied to that person. didnt respond to the fan translation thing specifically but the fact that he could know who i am definitely kinda terrifies me. if anyone goes around saying that his manga is the metadede manga because of me and he even has the slightest sliver of a chance of seeing that i will kill yall fr LOL

#asks #anonymous #metadede

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niiikasa · 5 months ago

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ITAFUSHI IN THE NEW CHAPTER HAS ME IN SHAMBLES WHAT THE HELL 😭😭😭😭😭 im so happy we saw megumi this chapter and im even more happy with how incredibly gay it is we have won another battle itafushi nation

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk megumi #fushiguro megumi #megumi fushiguro #itafushi #jjk yuji #yuji itadori #itadori yuji #jujutsu megumi #jujutsu yuji #nii's itafushi thoughts

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amongsnot · 4 months ago

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template by @/le__lex on twitter!

anyways i want to reread some of my favorite nu fics, so i figured i would do it while simultaneously recommending them at the same time :)

[DISCLAIMER] some of these fics are locked to guests! please keep that in mind when clicking a link :)

The Neutron-Turner Family Memory Book by TheBlossomingFox (teen | oneshot ) : this fic is adorable! it’s an aged up jt fic where the author explores their dynamic as parents. it’s adorable and funny and one of the best slice of life fics i’ve read :)

2. Another Day in the Future by JesterJazz (gen | oneshot ) : this fic is definitely one of the funniest fics i’ve read in this fandom. following jimmy and timmy when they accidentally time travel to the future, landing in the house of their future married selves. it's jimmytimmy focused, but it highlights their friendship and fun bickering really well.

3. twin fantasy by nousernamesorry (teen | 4/? ) : jimmy receives a message telling him that he's needed in space, and he quickly leaves. only, he doesn't come back, and timmy has to learn to heal. i'm going to be completely and fully honest when i say that this is the fic that got me into writing for the nicktoons team. op has a writing style that is incredibly heartwrenching, and the small amount of fluff before the latter chapters completely breaks me everytime i read it.

4. more than cartoons; battle of the bands by anonymous (gen | oneshot) : spongebob squarepants is putting together a band for the annual school contest! with his makeshift team of muscians, he has to beat the syndicate before they win the tournament! this fic is SO fun! it's definitely my favorite of the author's oneshots, and it's amusing and charming and just aljewfwabkfd

5. only have a moment before it's all over (a burning desire that cries again) by whisper_into_my_heart (teen | 14/50 ) : i have to be completely honest, i was REALLY late to the party with this fic!! mpreg (and preg in general) really is not my jam, but i instantly fell in love with op's oc hannah, and the dynamic between the girl andher parents. im not exactly caught up with the story (no spoilers please :3) but i am SO excited to finish the next few chapters and then for the rest of the story to be completed!!

6. We're Perfect Punting Height by CrystalMarbles (teen | drabble ) : this fic is a drabble, but i think it's pretty funny!! it's about the gang having a conversation with each other discussing the syndicates less than evil traits. like plankton's height, or crocker's obsession with finding fairies. definitely a good short funny read!

7. Rewinding the clock by Pastacurls (not rated | 7/? ) : (grabbing onto your shoulders and shaking you) SECOND PERSON!! I LOVE SECOND PERSON. anyways there's barely any three word fics in this fandom that i could find. i know this is hypocritical of me but im going to say it anyways. this fic is my JAM though. amnesiac timmy after his eighteenth birthday, stumbling through the remains of his life as he loses his fairies and his friends. i could talk about this for hours.

8. new phone who dis by rbt_lvr ( teen | 9/? ) : the old fandom is rottmnt. unapologetically. they're technically nicktoons so it counts in my book. plus, this is genuinely my favorite fic that ive read like uh ever. it's a silly chat fic where all of the turtles are gaslighting each other into thinking that they are normal people. donnie makes a mom joke that never fails to make me laugh. leonardo's raised by the gay hippo and worm. they treat lou jitsu like taylor swift fans treat taylor swift. it's absolutely insane. 10/10.

9. lead single by nousernamesorry (teen | 2/2 ) : if nousernamesorry has 100 fans im one of them. if they have 10 fans im one of them. if they have no fans im dead. i love all of their works and every single one makes me swoon. lead single is KIND of cheating with this prompt because most of the setting takes place on a beach. and it's also kind of during the summer. but it's about jimmy and timmy spending their birthday's apart, and the setting makes me wild. like the vending machine intro and the beach ending to the first chapter. like all of that screams summer to me idc idc.

10. The Art of Cooking and Cleaning by AbsoluteFooling (gen | 1/1 ) : GUYS IM SO EXCITED TO SHARE THIS FIC WITH YOU!! i love this fic so muchh oh my god. i had the priviledge of reading it before it was put on ao3 and oh my goddddd. makes me insane. it has spongebob and timmy dynamic (which we need MORE of) and its just. its just glorious i cant explain it in words. its about timmy questioning his self worth, and spongebob helps him. and its OUGH cant even put it into words. please go read it. if theres a fic i want you to read on this list its this one.

11. Are you Satisfied with an Average Life? by Anonymous (not rated | 3/? ) : i was really surprised by the lack of fics with lyrics as their titles... guess ill have to write more in order to continue doing my part. OKAY but this fic is REALLY GOOD. i absolutely LOVE LOVE LOVE anything that relates to timmy's amnesia. this fic focuses on the main nicktoons as they help timmy recollect his memory, and timmy immediately hits sbsp in the head with a baseball bat and it is GREAT and the writing style is GREAT and i do think this is a necessary read. i really hope the author updates, but it has been a while, so i'll treasure the chapter's we have!!

12. Bad at Flirting by ShippingMyWorld (teen | 1/1 ) : because im cool and unique and whatever the kids are talking about with that demure stuff the other ship is tigerghost. which i KNOW is cheating considering i wrote a tigerghost fic, but i main jimmytimmy and its important to me that you know that. this fic is a fluffy, silly little fic where danny and manny talk about manny's love for cheap and cheesy pick-up lines (established relationship). shippingmyworld ALSO has a really cool tumblr account AND a bunch of other cool ao3 tigerghost fics so this is my absolutely desperate plea for you to go check them out.

13. but he's got a gun in his hands, and a burden in his heart. by Anonymous (teen | 1/1 ) : hi yes its me hello. totally anonymous user here. why havent you guys yelled at me to make my fic titles shorter omfg that's like an entire essay within itself. it's REALLY hard for me to choose one of my fics, because they all hold a special place in my heart for a different reason, but specifically the ending of this fic makes me break everytime. i won't spoil it but i love the metaphors. anyways this fic is BASICALLY just a bunch of timmy and (sort of) danny whump. check it out if you're interested :D

14. Of Memory Loss and Manipulation by EepyTheSleepy and @c0dydoesntknow (teen | 4/? ) : hello YES this fic is really great and it definiely falls right in line with my other interests. as soon as somebody says timmy amnesia fic i am GONE. the plotline in this fic is great, and the characterization is even BETTER. like you guys need to go support these two because they are amazing people and even amazinger authors!! their story is about the evil nu gang gaslighting timmy into thinking that the og nu gang is evil, which is GREAT because timmy just ends up being really confused the whole time

15. When rain falls, love blooms by 23ster (gen | 1/1 ) : kissing in the rain is SO romantic guys when is some girly gonna come and do it with me? this is a friend to lovers fic by the all time BEST person ever 23ster, and it perfectly conveys the idiots that are our favorite characters jimmy and timmy. from the trope of there is only one bed, to the all best ROOMMATES, and then the romantic yearning love confession(slash argument) in the rain. this fic ruins you, but its so so so great i swear.

16. So... Zinnias? by suluswife (gen | 1/4 ) : guys idk what kind of fics you want from me for this one i gotta be honest,, i love nala and all that he does (and i know the second chapters in production!! it also writes ninjago fics please for the life of me go check them out) and this fic just. IT JUST FITS THE PROMPT!! i read this at 3am!! it has the conversation at midnight and that writing that just FLOWS you know?? it's a platonic jt fic (im trying really hard to find nicktoon fics in general, i pinkie promise) with a soulmate au! jimmy and timmy are both idiots in this, but they have a conversation on the roof while staring at the stars so its a great fic by all standards.

17. best two out of three by dhe20 (gen | 1/1 ) : theyre so funny in this fic i love them so much.. if youve looked at my reblogs you know that i love it when they say just the stupidest shit ever, and this fic DEFINITELY fits the bill. it's so funny it kills me every time! plus the way the author writes converys the battle scene well, and im so happy that this fic has a number in the title so that i could convey my love for it here!

18. Healing Hands by Crossovers_R_Us (teen | 1/1 ) : ough i love this fic. i think my favorite part about this fic is how they act like teenagers?? (and ofc how they love each other but i think that part goes unsaid) it's just. manny is so so so sick and danny is willing to lie with him even if it means getting sick. timmy teases the two of them. there's no life-ending mission it's JUST fluff omg omg. im such a sucker for sickfics because they're SO soft and the author does a great job conveying it with their writing!!

19. It's never too late for you (I told you, you can stay) by FlowersandMiel (gen | 1/1 ) : oh my GOD i read this the other day and like. ough. out of this list there are maybe four that i would truly really beg everyone here to read (2, 3, 10) and this is DEFINITELY one of them. it came out a few days ago but it has so very little attention and idk what to say you just need to read it. like genuinely. like this fic changed my life. like please read it. like now. it's about timmy turner moving in with jimmy neutron and getting sick in the middle of the night, thus prompting him to get jimmy to help. timmy thinks he's in trouble (he's not). GENUINELY if you like well written fics PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE check this one out

#nicktoons unite #fic recs #jimmytimmy #turtles #sorry if updates on this list are slow! my family's in the process of moving :)

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gaydragontournament · 8 months ago

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ROUND 2: PART 4

Propaganda under cut

Falin Touden/Red Dragon (Dungeon Meshi)

● Falin gets eaten by a dragon, resurrected with dark magic by her elf girlfriend, transformed into a dragon chimera by another elf, killed and eaten by her party (they do it to help her), and resurrected (again). Like the main character is probably technically Laios (her brother), but the most important character is her. She's like if the damsel in distress was an autistic gay dragon

The Void Dragon (Aurora)

● an immortal, star-eating dragon trapped in the core of a planet made up of six elemental beings who died trying to stop him. canonically uses he/they pronouns and has a gender that is vaguely defined but not traditionally male from a human perspective.

they have possessed an incredibly powerful mage in the hopes of freeing themself, though circumstances prevent him from taking direct control of said mage except for when rare opportunities present themselves.

at one point his host and host's party are fighting a storm god named tynan who feeds on fear and just took the form of a dragon to help with that, and VD gets so pissed that they instantly take control of their host for the first time in several chapters and just tear into tynan, almost winning the battle singlehandedly until the party intervenes to make sure VD doesn't turn on them right after.

#gaydragontournament #polls #tournament poll #dragons #dragon #falin dungeon meshi #dungeon meshi #delicious in dungeon #falin touden #the void dragon aurora #the void dragon #aurora comic #aurora

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songfell-ut · 3 months ago

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Okay ONE more genderbend

No, I have not embarked upon assembling gay Songfell piece by piece instead of writing Songfell, I just had another brain rot that's actually been incredibly helpful: in addition to moving and my arm possibly needing surgical intervention (ortho is not being super helpful), I've been focused so much on Songfell's plot that what I've got just doesn't look right.

Well, making my teeny AU made me realize that I've been so busy plotting, I forgot the luv. This has reminded me of why I wrote the dang story in the first place: we all want to see a giant monster simping over a determined, musically inclined human. I will be fixing up chapter 35 and hopefully getting 'er up this month.

...but yes with the help of @skyartworkzzz I did dictate and sort of type this huge drabble, almost a one-shot, and you can't stop me it's too late ah ha ha ha

“Yer doin’ it again.”

Frisk was so lost in thought that it took him a moment to realize Sans had said something, and another to properly hear it. “Doing what again?” the priest inquired, sitting up from his half-slouch over the table.

The giant skeleton sauntered over and tapped the wood surface. Frisk thought at first that he meant the plates from dinner they hadn’t cleaned up yet, but no: Sans was looking at Frisk’s hands. “That thing with yer fingers. Ya wiggle ‘em sometimes when you’re really out of it.” Sans demonstrated with a waggle of his own phalanges, seating himself not far away. “Are ya mad about somethin’? If you wanna wring somebody’s neck, I can do it for ya,” he added generously.

Frisk snorted, scratching his ribs through the shirt he wore under his robe, noticing how Sans’ gaze instantly followed the motion. Better stay on topic; he wasn’t eager for more questions about why human males only sort of had boobs or whether there was as much hair on his chest as his head. “I think I’ve made my stance on murder clear, Sans,” said the High Priest, trying very hard to sound stern.

“Nope, doesn’t wring a bell,” the skeleton said cheerfully, and was rewarded with a snrrk that made him grin about a mile wide. “Ha! I win. Now ya hafta tell me what you’re doin’.”

“That was a good one,” Frisk admitted, rubbing his nose. “All right, then.” He looked at his hand, sobering a little, tapping the thumb and forefinger together. “Here.” With no further warning, he snapped his fingers so hard that Sans flinched. “Sorry,” said the priest, offering a rueful smile that made Sans scowl back. “I just took the barrier off the closet in the corner of my office. Would you please go and open it for me, and bring me what’s inside?”

Nonplussed, the boss monster obediently vanished. A few long moments later, he reappeared with something that looked like a toy in his massive hands. “Ta-da,” he said gravely, trying to hold it properly.

Frisk laughed and took the guitar from the skeleton’s loose grasp. “Thank you,” he said, tilting it onto its side. Something rattled, and he turned the instrument over to shake out a small tortoiseshell pick. “This, sir, is the answer you seek. Sometimes when I’m tired, I’ll think about playing it.” He slid off the chair to retrieve the pick and find a patch of floor to sit cross-legged. “I haven’t touched this in months,” he murmured, stroking the long neck.

He missed Sans’ swift glance at his lap, and how the skeleton’s cheekbones flickered with a few shades of red before he said, “Weird. I get bein’ too busy, but why’s it locked up? Habit?”

“Sort of. When I first moved up here, I thought the servants might take it.” Sans made a disbelieving sound, and Frisk clarified, “I don’t mean they’d steal it. I was afraid that if His Holiness knew it was here, he’d have them remove it.”

The skeleton disbelieved louder. “The hell? Does the Church think they’re evil or somethin’?” He settled on the floor a few feet away.

“Not evil, no,” said Frisk, still examining the guitar, “just…frivolous. If I had a piano or a cello up here, that would be one thing, but this is considered uncouth.” The young man plucked gingerly at the top string, and winced. “Now that’s bad. Positively E-vil.” He plucked again, then fiddled with a knob.

Sans had a good chuckle at that, and didn’t hide his further amusement at how the sound wobbled up and down, but he stayed quiet while Frisk hummed under his breath and turned another knob, wibb-wobbling the string’s pitch till it was as accurate as the young man could get by ear. Then Frisk tried the next string, humming, adjusting till it was in tune with the E; when the next string proved accurate almost immediately, though, he caught Sans’ disappointment and very, very gently turned the knob the wrong way to make it go wooooaaaaooo.

The boss monster cackled in appreciation. “Do it again,” he urged Frisk, reclining on his side and scooting closer for a better look.

“I can’t do it too much,” Frisk replied. Far from minding an audience literally looming over him, he found himself rather pleased to show Sans how the knobs worked. “This works by tightening or loosening the strings, see?” He demonstrated again, letting the skeleton lean in close enough to almost bump heads. “I haven’t replaced these in a while, but I don’t have any spares. I should probably take care of that before I play anything.”

Sans cocked his enormous head. There was a long moment of Frisk conspicuously not stopping and in fact continuing to tune the thing, and the boss monster nodded in understanding that guitar strings were probably not okay, either; however, the truth was that he was watching with such interest that Frisk was too flattered to stop. It was stupid to toodle around with a poorly maintained instrument just to show off, but all.he could think was that he should’ve known Sans wouldn’t care whether this was a waste of time or not, or that he could barely play anything.

The skeleton was evidently thinking the same thing. “So your boss wouldn’t want you doin’ this?” he asked. “The hell does he care as long as yer work’s gettin’ done? He’s not your friggin’ dad. …Is he?”

Frisk played a few mildly amused notes. “No. But I was only nineteen when they made me High Priest, and he thought I was going to be easy to manipulate.” Sans snorted in such derision that Frisk felt a little tingle of pride. “It was exactly the sort of thing he would have done to keep me in my place,” the latter continued. “He’d also tattle to my actual father, and he would have said something. But I’m of age now, so…” He tried another chord, and let it trail off.

“Why’d they teach you ta play it if it’s that bad?” the boss monster persisted. “Ya know all yer music stuff from school, right?”

Frisk tapped the pick absently on the guitar’s belly. “Yes, but not from the monks. I learned it when we were all working in the kitchen.”

Sans lifted a browbone. “Was that a normal thing? Learnin’ discipline or humility or somethin’?”

“Well, yes, and no.” The young man tried a short scale, correcting the last note. “Everyone in our dormitory was being punished. We had to go down after dinner and clean up after the entire monastery.” He couldn’t help wincing. “I hadn’t done anything wrong, so they let me sit with a lay worker who played guitar to entertain everyone. I sang with him and watched how it was done, and nobody told on me for a few months.”

“‘Lay’ worker?” Sans’ tone was much too innocent, and he answered Frisk’s don’t you dare squint with a cheerful “I didn’t know gettin’ laid was a church job.”

The High Priest snorted so hard that he almost dropped the pick. “That’s not what that means,” he informed his apprentice, barely fighting down his amusement before he resumed, “It just means someone employed by the church who hasn’t taken any vows.” But his smile faded to a grimace. “You’re actually not far off. That’s…” Frisk played a few more notes at random. “I think I was seventeen. There was a bad cold going around the monastery. Most of the acolytes got over it in a few days, but everyone in charge – the abbot, the higher deacons, et cetera – all caught it at once.” He strummed an overly dramatic chord. “I’m still impressed how bad things got. It was chaos for a solid month. Anyone who wanted to really misbehave had a good time.”

“Yeah?” To Frisk’s disappointment, the skeleton moved away and turned to lie flat on his spine, stretching his huge limbs across the workroom floor. “So who got laid? Thought humans don’t count it if you’re both guys.”

Frisk was now glad that Sans wasn’t watching: his entire head felt beet-red. “No, it was women working in the outbuildings,” he said with decent composure, trying another chord. “They were supposed to stay out of the monastery, but someone bribed the guards into letting them ‘visit’ back and forth. When the abbot found out, he sent off every female in a five-mile radius and had us take over their work. But then they started writing letters claiming paternity—I think there were over thirty acknowledged pregnancies after the dust settled.”

It was Sans’ turn to snort. “Holy shit. That fast?”

“That fast,” Frisk said shortly.

The boss monster scrunched up his nasal bone, obviously remembering what Frisk had told him about humans’ treatment of unwed mothers. “Well, that was a shitty thing to do. Not like any of those guys could marry ‘em, right?”

Frisk hesitated. How to put this? “Yes, but the ladies knew that. For a lot of them, it was a…we’ll call it a different opportunity,” he said, much more rueful than judgmental. “Noble families want their sons educated at the monastery, but it’s also to keep them from having their own children.” He flipped the pick over the backs of his fingers, a trick he was inordinately pleased to still do. “I will say this. If someone does leave a girl in difficulty, he’s expected to provide at least something for her and the child. Their families had a lot of questions.” He sighed in exasperation. “Word got all the way back to His Majesty. It was a huge mess. You could say the ‘lay’ worker was the only one who shouldn’t be called that.”

He expected Sans to laugh, but when Frisk peeked at him, the boss monster seemed more pensive than amused; his sockets were fixed on the basket of letters. It took Frisk a second to guess what he might be thinking, and when Sans finally shifted back onto his side to look at him, he found the priest glaring at him, daring him to even ask about his own participation. “Glad nobody was a hardass about you gettin’ blamed,” the skeleton said amiably, and Frisk relaxed a little. “Ya know what? Never mind all that crap.” Sans shifted and settled onto his side again. “Knock yerself out on that thing, I don’t care. I’m not gonna tell on ya.”

The young man sat for a moment, tapping the pick against the strings one after another. Sans was right: no need to get into how he had had to literally hide from his peers trying to drag him along to meet some of their new “friends,” or how his father – a prolific creator of children – had publicly commended Frisk for behaving like a true man of the Church, but hinted privately that he would understand if his son started sowing some oats in the very near future. It wasn’t just normal for a gentleman of his rank, but more or less expected to prove his manhood and create more magically gifted progeny of his own, whether or not he was married. Being a busy clergyman had saved Frisk from direct pressure thus far, but— “Here’s a good one,” he said to the skeleton, who obligingly scooted closer. “Don’t laugh, if you please.”

“Not unless it’s funny,” Sans said lazily.

Fair enough. Frisk shut his eyes for a moment, letting his fingers arrange themselves the way they had whenever he could sneak in some practice back when he was just a priest, a former student who could have a damn second to himself that he didn’t have to account for. People had popped their heads in to check if he really was just playing a borrowed guitar, but he was regarded as such a goody-goody that nobody gave him a hard time. He had stumbled across a few young men taking private moments for themselves or with each other, but he never told…

Well, no point getting angry now. It was too nice to sit near-ish the fire and do nothing useful, just empty his mind of everything but what to do to make the sounds he wanted to play. He wasn’t alone, either; the massive skeleton looming over his shoulder was a warm, solid presence that made the High Priest feel less like he was being monitored and more protected, accepted for whatever he wanted to do—just the pleasure of his company. That was what he’d told Sans back when he gave him his new clothes, wasn’t it?

Now there was an idea, so interesting that Frisk barely noticed himself picking out the bare bones – ha – of a favorite old song. He should really get Sans another set of clothing, something he could change into that wasn’t ragged canvas or just nothing at all. Not that Sans was particularly modest: he hadn’t been bothered by the notion of Frisk forcibly removing him from the bathroom, reminding the human that they were both male and he didn’t have anything private to see. Was that why he kept asking Frisk questions about humans that he could find in any of his textbooks? The notion of fleshy bits that changed consistency and produced weird fluids at inconsistent intervals couldn’t be an appealing one, not to a being made of solid bone.

…

Why did that thought suddenly bother him?

…Dirt, he’d just played a very bad note. The priest mumbled an apology and adjusted his grip, chagrined at ruining a peaceful moment with more of that nonsense. Not for the first time, he reminded himself that it was not all right to let his imagination charge off after someone who was not just under his care, but in his power; it was immoral at best to use Sans to investigate whether his libido – always plenty strong, simply refusing to attach itself to anyone, no matter how attractive they were – might just be resistant to humans. He’d keep relaxing and enjoying his apprentice’s literal support—Sans was close enough that Frisk caught himself about to lean back against his gigantic lower ribs. That was what most top scholars called a “no-no.”

…Was it, though? When Frisk glanced up, he saw Sans closing his sockets, and the skeleton’s expression and body language were so peaceful that Frisk had to smile again. Never mind thoughts of fleshy bits and bones, just enjoy having him here. No more recurring thoughts of how monsters didn’t care about gender or how fond of him Sans might be. No wondering what bone felt like on fleshy bi—on totally normal skin, or whether Sans would let him poke the gaps in his metacarpals…or what bone might feel like on his hands, maybe running along his—

And something happened that Frisk had never experienced before, at least contextually. He was a healthy young man, and he had had his body act out at complete random just as often as anyone else; what had not happened was specifically thinking of one person who was right here and then having a specific reaction to that specific person. And it wasn’t—stopping at all, it was getting worse and he had to focus harder (ha!) on distracting himself. Maybe if he played louder?

There was a sharp sound and a burst of pain, and Frisk dropped the guitar, Sans jerking upright as the priest clutched his hand. “Frisk! What happened?! You okay?”

“I’m fine. The string snapped,” Frisk said tersely, holding it up for the skeleton to see the near-bleeding welt on the back of his hand. At least it was the ideal excuse to rise to his knees and lean forward enough for his nightshirt to hang forward, because the burst of adrenaline had not quieted anything down. “It’s my fault, I even said I shouldn’t play the damn thing—”

And of course, that was Sans’ cue to scowl and give Frisk another jolt by seizing his wrist between his thumb and forefinger, holding him utterly still in a huge, inescapable, but gentle grasp. It was for the best that Frisk froze in place, heat flooding his senses as the boss monster summoned a wisp of green magic. “There we go,” he said after a moment. “All better?” And it might have been okay if he hadn’t absently rubbed Frisk’s forearm with his thumb.

Neither of them would ever be sure exactly how Frisk did it, but the next second, he was somehow on his feet and turning away in a blur of “Thankyouvermch”; before Sans could get a solid look at him, the human was already disappearing into the bathroom and slamming the door.

Sans knelt in silence long enough for the blankness to recede and confusion to step into its place. What the fuck was that? Was Frisk really that upset over one crappy judgment call?

…Or…Sans had been watching very close – almost got caught that one time – and he wasn’t sure that he hadn’t seen something. He had read that human males just kind of did that sometimes without meaning to and it was considered hugely embarrassing, which would explain why Frisk had run off like that. Funny, he had never had that problem before in all the time Sans had spent around him, though the boss monster had admittedly tried to avoid looking.

Humans were weird. Sans picked up the guitar very delicately, examining the broken string. Stupid damn thing, he had half a mind to throw it in the fireplace—but that would probably not help. Besides, Frisk had been really happy whenever he wasn’t talking about other humans being stupid. Sans had never seen him so relaxed; it was almost a given that the only people who could boss Frisk around didn’t want him to.

At least Frisk had felt comfortable enough to play with it in front of him. …The guitar. Comfortable enough to play the guitar. Yep. It kind of suck—it was kind of shitty that the dumb thing was unusable now, and fucking stupid that someone this rich and powerful couldn’t get something so simple without…hmmm. Sans daintily retrieved the pick, and got up.

Frisk was debating how to leave the bathroom in the most face-saving way when a sound made him nearly fall over: the workroom’s double doors were open and Sans was talking, presumably to the guards. What the—the priest grabbed a towel, speed-dabbed the rest of the cold water away, adjusted his garments, and…hesitated, milliseconds before striding into view wearing his nightclothes. Instead he listened, and thus heard a guard saying, “…you mean…er…sir?”

“Is there some other meanin’ of ‘Gimme some new strings for this thing’?” Sans’ voice was so exaggeratedly polite that Frisk didn’t know whether to laugh or bang his head on the doorframe. “His Eminence has graciously allowed me t’learn about human stuff, and all I can learn from this thing is that guitars need all the strings or they sound like crap. So the next time somebody delivers stuff up here, they can bring ‘em. Right?”

Frisk could almost hear the guards giving each other uncertain looks. “Er…”

“Right. Thank you!” With obscene cheer, the giant skeleton slammed the doors shut. Then he opened them again. “Oh. Wait. Here.” The dirty dishes flew from the table to the trolley, which was shoved out, and the doors slammed again. “There we go, boss,” Sans said over his shoulder. “You good now?”

“…I am. Thank you.” The human took a deep breath, and let it out. “I’m going to take a bath. Read the chapter on topical analgesics, please, and we’ll discuss it before bed. …Sleep. Before we sleep.” And he shut the door again before Sans could respond. He had a lot to think about.

#songfell #is it disrespectful to call it dongfell #frans #slightly suggestive #fic came before the sketch I just had to have both #dongfell

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