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engie-ivy · 1 year ago

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(Wolfstar Christmas Get-Together Coffeeshop AU Holiday Fluff!)

3304 words.

Sirius is the town’s most eligible bachelor, and while home for the Holidays, everyone seems eager to get him coupled up.

Euphemia wants to set him up with this sweet boy who frequents the library where she works.

Hope Lupin wants to set him up with her own son.

James wants to set him up with Lily's cute best friend.

Sirius, however, isn't interested in any of them, as he's already smitten with the adorable guy from the coffeeshop.

This Love We Got Is the Best Of All

Merry Christmas - Ed Sheeran & Elton John

“Oh my!” Hope Lupin claps her hands together. “What a handsome young man indeed!”

“I told you, didn't I?” Euphemia beams at her. “Hope, this is Sirius Black, James’ best friend, but more like my second son. Sirius, this is Hope Lupin, she has recently joined my book club and I invited her over for tea.”

“Nice to meet you, Mrs Lupin,” Sirius smiles.

“Oh, please.” Hope Lupin waves her hand. “Call me Hope.”

“How was it at the shelter?” Euphemia asks Sirius.

“Very good!” Sirius’ face lights up. “Mr Snuggles’ owner came to pick him up. You should've seen how happy he was that he had found his friend back, it was lovely, and Mr Snuggles wouldn't stop purring.”

“Sirius is studying in London to become a veterinarian,” Euphemia explains to Hope. “And while he's in town for the Holidays, he's volunteering at the animal shelter.”

Hope leans her elbows on the table and rests her head on her hands. “Handsome, smart and good for animals,” she sighs. “All the girls in town must be swooning over you!”

“They are,” Euphemia chuckles. “But he has already broken all of their hearts by having no interest in girls. Though he has never brought home a nice boyfriend for Christmas either,” she adds, with a stern look at Sirius.

“You know,” Hope says, directing a meaningful smile at Sirius. “My son is about your age and still single. And knowing my boy, he'd be quite charmed by you.”

“Now, wait a minute!” Euphemia protests. “If you want to set Sirius up, you'll have to get in line, my dear Hope. There's this really sweet boy who frequents the library, and I've been dying for Sirius to meet him! If only Sirius would let me introduce them…”

“You know I'm not-” Sirius begins, but he's interrupted by Hope.

“Well, surely my own son comes with a higher recommendation than some boy from your workplace,” Hope insists.

“But I know Sirius,” Euphemia counters. “And I know his type best.”

“Hello?” Sirius waves. “Does anyone care what I think?”

“My son is everyone's type,” Hope says firmly.

“And if my match turns out to not be such a match after all, then your son is more than welcome to shoot his shot…”

“Apparently not,” Sirius sighs, hoisting his bag higher up his shoulder and walking out of the kitchen.

“So now they're both trying to set you up?”

James chuckles.

“It's not funny!” Sirius covers his face with his hands as he drops down next to James on James’ bed. “Just mum was bad enough, but now her friends as well?”

James pops himself up on his elbows and waggles his eyebrows. “That's what you get for being the town’s most eligible bachelor.”

“Middle-aged women meddling in your love life?”

“You know,” James says. “If you want to be one step ahead of the nosy ladies, there's always Lily's friend.”

Sirius groans. “Not you too, Jamie!”

“Oh, come on!” James exclaims. “He's a really chill guy and hella cute! You'd totally like him.”

“Jaaaaames, you know that I'm not… open.”

“Right,” James says, rolling onto his back. “Coffeeshop guy,” he sighs exasperatedly.

“Coffeeshop guy,” Sirius sighs dreamily.

“He's so funny and kind, James. You won't believe.”

James snorts. “What I mostly don't believe, is that you still haven't asked him out yet!”

“I'm getting there, I'm getting there,” Sirius says. “But it's not like I haven't made any progress! Did I tell you that he knows my order now?”

James rolls his eyes. “You've been coming there twice a day ever since you got back in town. If he didn't know your order by now, I'd worry about his mental capacities.”

“You should've seen the way he smiled at me yesterday when he handed me my drink” Sirius says dreamily, as if he hasn't even heard James. “He's so pretty, oh my gosh.”

“I would've loved to see that,” James says dryly. “But someone-” He pokes Sirius in his side “-made me solemnly swear that I wouldn't go near that coffeeshop.”

Sirius huffs. “You admitted that you wanted to interrogate him about ‘his intentions’!”

James shrugs. “Only my brotherly duty.” Then he grins. “Lily's friend already passed my test, by the way.”

“Good for him,” Sirius says unimpressed. “I'm sure he'll make someone very happy someday.”

“Good morning, Remus!”

Remus looks up from where he had been rearranging the pastries in the display. “Oh! Sirius! Morning! A good one. To you as well, I mean.”

“Did you survive the morning coffee rush?” Sirius asks as he approaches the counter.

“Barely,” Remus chuckles. “Good thing it's still too early for most people to order one of our more complicated Holiday Specials.” He shudders. “I'm already dreading the afternoon rush. Luckily some customers are thoughtful enough to always come when the rush is over,” he adds, smiling at Sirius.

Sirius’ stomach flutters. Sure, it's super inconvenient to always start his volunteer work at the shelter a bit late and always stay a bit longer, but that smile makes it all worth it. “Well, gotta make sure I get enough one-on-one time with my favourite barista,” Sirius replies with a wink, and he's pretty proud of his smoothness.

Remus’ cheeks colour, and that could be a good sign, though there's always the chance he's just making Remus uncomfortable.

“You charmer,” Remus mumbles, awkwardly bumping Sirius’ shoulder. “Are you looking for a discount?”

Sirius places a hand over his heart and gasps in pretend-shock. “I would never use my charm for such purposes.”

Remus has given him a free cinnamon bun once, and while Sirius is not much of a sweet tooth, he savored every bite.

“No,” Remus chuckles. “Great power and great responsibility, I suppose.”

“Can imagine rush hour is the worst around Christmas,” Sirius says, looking over the menu. “Must be rather frustrating when you have ten people waiting in line, four coffees still running, and someone goes and orders…” He narrows his eyes at the sign above Remus. “A caramel cookie dough vanilla bean syrup latte moccachino with whipped cream and hazelnut topping.” He looks back at Remus. “What even is that?”

Remus leans over the counter and smirks. “Wanna try one?”

“Remus,” Sirius says emphatically. “The day I walk in here and order something like that, please take me to the ER, because I must've slipped and hit my head on the way here.”

“Booo, you're no fun,” Remus pouts rather adorably, as he pushes himself up from the counter. “Your regular it is.”

“Thank you,” Sirius says, pleased.

“You know,” Remus says, turning around to make Sirius’ double shot cappuccino. “You really gotta step out of your comfort zone every once in a while.”

“My coffee is my comfort,” Sirius replies. “So what would even be the use of my coffee moment if I'm using it to step out of my comfort zone?”

“A little adventure, maybe?”

“It's not that I'm not adventurous, it's just that I know what I like and what I don't like.” Sirius shrugs. “I'm actually plenty adventurous in other aspects of my life.”

“Are you now?” Remus asks, turning around to bring Sirius his cup.

“Oh yeah,” Sirius says. “I love going on spontaneous road trips on my motorcycle, for instance. Did I tell you that I drive a motorcycle?”

Remus’ eyes slightly widen. “That's hot.”

Sirius arches an eyebrow.

“Erm, the coffee,” Remus says, putting the cup down in front of Sirius. “Very hot, so, erm, be careful.”

“Thanks,” Sirius says, giving Remus an amused look. “After having ordered it about twenty times already, that hadn't occurred to me yet.”

Remus immediately hands Sirius his cappuccino as he walks in that afternoon. He's got cacao powder stains on his apron, whipped cream on his cheek, cookie crumble in his hair, and a bewildered look in his eyes, making him look like a very cute mess.

Sirius arches an eyebrow. “You're not gonna try to push one of your Holiday Specials on me?”

Remus shakes his head. “I feel like I've made enough moccaccinos, frappuccinos, chococcinos, hazelnuccinos, or whatever kind of ccinos for the rest of my life. If you ordered one, I might have actually refused.”

“Well, not to worry,” Sirius says, taking a sip from his drink. “And here I thought my impeccable argumentation had convinced you.”

“Well, the motorcycle was a strong argument,” Remus says, leaning over the counter, resting his head on his hand. “Guess there's a whole other side of you outside of this coffeeshop that I do not know yet,” he murmurs, looking at Sirius intently.

Sirius tries to school his expression into something more collected than how he feels on the inside, because yet? Does that mean Remus wants to get to know him while he's not just doing his job? And god, must he be looking at him like that?

“Well, yeah,” Sirius says, surprising himself with how normal his voice comes out. “I suppose there is more to me than double shot cappuccinos.”

Remus smirks. “Who would've thought?”

“Excuse me?”

Remus jumps, only now noticing the woman standing at the counter. He quickly rushes to her. “Hi, yes, I'm sorry, how can I help you?”

Sirius finishes his coffee and slips on his jacket, staring at Remus, who's still having a conversation with the woman about the difference between a latte and a flat white. He's trying to work up enough courage.

“You!” Remus suddenly says, pointing his finger at Sirius while the woman walks away with her gingerbread latte. “You're not thinking about leaving without showing me, are you?” He turns his hand around and wiggles his finger, beckoning Sirius over. “Come on, let me see, let me see!”

Sirius rolls his eyes fondly as he walks over to Remus. “I wouldn't dare,” he says, as he whips his phone out of his pocket and opens his photos.

Remus eagerly looks at the screen. “Oh my, did Purrkins get her fur brushed? What a lovely lady!”

“She did, and she was quite the drama queen about it.” Sirius rolls his eyes. “You'd think we were trying to torture her.”

“Look how proud Bowie looks!”

“Well, he was a really good boy and found two sticks in the yard!”

“And who’s that fuzzy ball of fluff?”

“That's Myta! She was brought in today, and already made many friends.”

“And there's our dynamic duo!”

“Yes, little Adrian and his big brother Bram are still as inseparable as ever.”

“Oh! Is… Is this what I think it is?”

“It is! Siepie got adopted today!”

Remus sighs deeply as Sirius has swipes to the last photo. “God, I envy your job. I mean,” he adds quickly. “I know it's not always fun and very hard work as well.”

“I guess it is,” Sirius says. “But everytime I walk in and see those faces, it more than makes up for it.”

“That's what my friend who works in kindergarten always says,” Remus says. “But I could never quite imagine. In this case, though, I immediately believe it.”

Sirius grins. “Wanna quit this job and come volunteer in the shelter with me?”

“Too bad,” Remus says. “Getting paid is a non-negotiable for my job.”

“You'll get paid in cuteness!” Sirius insists.

“Cuteness doesn't pay college tuition, I'm afraid.” Remus chuckles. “Otherwise you'd be studying for free.”

Sirius opens and closes his mouth.

Remus turns bright red and runs a hand through his hair. “I… Erm, I mean…” He claps his hands. “Well, I better get cleaning! Considering my brain-to-mouth-filter apparently stopped working, I must be very tired. I should start closing up.”

“You know,” Sirius quickly says. “If you really want to know more about me outside of this coffeeshop, my chosen family is hosting a Christmas Eve party. Maybe you'd like to come?”

“Christmas Eve?” Remus replies. “Oh, I'm sorry. I already promised my mum that I'd go to this event with her on Christmas Eve.”

Sirius face falls. “Right. Of course. It's short notice, after all. Well, better luck next time.” Sirius turns to walk away.

“Sirius!” Remus grabs his wrist. “I really am sorry.”

Sirius looks down at Remus’ hand and then up to his face. “It's okay. It's Christmas Eve. You can't cancel on your mum, of course.”

Remus bites his lip. “Would you think me a terrible person if I kind of wish I could?”

Sirius smiles. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

“That's amazing, mate!” James beams at him.

“We should not get ahead of ourselves,” Sirius warns. “I mean, he did say no.”

“But he obviously wanted to say yes!” James exclaims, grinning broadly.

“He did, didn't he?” Sirius’ face also breaks out into a grin. “I mean, he wouldn't have called me back to emphasize how sorry he was if he was just trying to blow me off.”

“Definitely not,” James assures him. “He's totally into you, just really couldn't make it. And now he knows you're interested, so nothing should be stopping him from asking you out next! Which is good, as the sooner we know if it's going to work out with coffeeshop guy, the better. Lily's friend is single now, but he won't be forever. Ow!” James rubs his arm where Sirius just punched him. “But of course I'm rooting for you!” He adds, upon seeing the glare Sirius is directing at him. “I'm just saying, it's a shame Lily's friend can't make it to the party either. It would've been good if you could've at least gotten to meet him before completely making up your mind on coffeeshop guy.”

Sirius lies back on the bed, folding his arms behind his head, staring up at the ceiling. “I hate to break it to you, Jamie, but my mind is already completely made up on coffeeshop guy.”

James looks at Sirius and shakes his head. “You're really gone for him, aren't you?”

Sirius sighs. “I can't bloody stop thinking about him.”

“Good heavens,” James says. “You're down bad!”

“I'm glad mum's library boy couldn't make it to the party either,” Sirius says. “Now the only person I have to politely reject is Hope Lupin’s son. Though maybe he's completely mortified about his mother's meddling and isn't even into me at all,” he adds hopefully.

“Wouldn't count on it mate,” James says, lying down next to him. “A single gay guy seeing you and deciding he's not interested? That happened exactly never.”

Sirius groans, and James pats his leg sympathetically.

“I'm not even trying to boost your ego here. You know the effect you have when you walk into a room.”

Okay, so maybe Sirius does kind of know the effect he has when he walks into a room. Giggling, admiring glances, lingering looks, that sort of thing, but he had not exactly expected to have that effect on the middle-aged and elderly women of town.

At the Potters’ grand Christmas Eve party, it seems like every single one of them is stopping him. “Oh my, Sirius Black? Is that you? Look at you! My dear, you get more handsome every year! Say, is there a special someone in your life already?”

This is mostly followed by them listing all their children or grandchildren who are still single, while Sirius tries to politely get away before they whip out the photos. He's grateful that at least he hasn't run into Hope Lupin yet, shoving her son in his face. Photos are easier to get away from than an actual person, after all.

When talking to seventy-five-year-old Mrs Markell, she hadn't even been mentioning any grandchildren, and Sirius is wholly unprepared when she suddenly takes a stack of photos out of her purse, with no chance for him to get away on time. But it turns out she heard Sirius is studying to become a vet, and she just wants to show him pictures of her beloved dog, Mr Barkell. And well, Sirius is definitely here for that.

“Oh my god, what a handsome fella indeed!” Sirius is just gushing over Mr Barkell in his brand new Christmas sweater, knitted by Mrs Markell herself when he hears a familiar voice.

“Sirius?”

He looks up and immediately feels his heart speed up, because Remus in an apron is adorable, but Remus in a button-up and suit jacket? Good god. “Remus?” He manages to say. “What are you doing here? I thought you had that thing with your mum?”

Remus looks just as surprised as he does while gesturing around himself. “This is the thing with my mum.”

Sirius blinks. “Your mum took you to our Christmas Eve party?”

“Apparently,” Remus says, smiling sheepishly.

Suddenly, Euphemia’s voice can be heard. “Remus!”

“Msr Euphemia?” Remus stammers.

“You're here! Oh, how lovely.” Euphemia gives Remus a warm hug, before playfully slapping his shoulder. “And you made me think you couldn't make it, you,” she tuts.

“You know Remus?” Sirius asked, stunned.

Euphemia rolls her eyes. “Why, of course I know Remus! I've been trying to introduce you to him for ages! Ever since this adorable boy walked into my library,” she says fondly, squeezing Remus’ arm.

Before Sirius can say anything else, another voice sounds. “Oh no, you two are already talking!” Hope Lupin rushes up to them. “And I wanted to be the one to introduce you two!”

Euphemia frowns. “Why did you want to introduce Remus to Sirius?”

Hope blinks. “...Remus is my son?”

“Remus from the library is your son?” Euphemia exclaims.

The two women stare at each other for a moment, and then they burst out laughing. “Can you believe it…?” “This whole time…” “We were just trying to get Sirius together with the same person!”

Remus’ cheeks turn bright red. “Mum!”

“Remus! Mate! You're here!” Sirius probably shouldn't even be surprised anymore to see James running up to Remus and slinging an arm around him. “Lily said you already had other plans, but I'm super glad you made it after all!”

James lets go of Remus and walks up to Sirius, grabbing his arm and pulling him forward. “Have you met Sirius yet?”

“Yes,” Remus replies, looking a bit dazed. “As a matter of fact, I have.”

Sirius stares at him and opens and closes his mouth a few times before managing to produce words. “You're library boy, and Hope Lupin’s son, and Lily's friend?”

“Wait, really?” James speaks before Remus can reply. “Are you serious, Sirius? That's all the same person? All Remus?” He starts laughing and clasps Sirius on the shoulder. “I know how head over heels in love you are with your coffeeshop guy, but mate, this sort of seems like fate, doesn't it?”

Now it's Sirius’ face that turns bright red, as Remus raises his eyebrows. “James!” Sirius hisses.

James looks from Sirius, to Remus, and back again and his eyes widen. “What? Do you mean… No way!” He gasps. “Are you for real? That's insane, mate! Insane, but also kind of amazing. Wow, this best man's speech is going to write itself!”

“James!”

“So,” Sirius begins, staring up at the night sky after Remus and he have stepped outside for a moment to talk. "Apparently, everyone in my life has been trying to set me up with you.”

“Yeah,” Remus says, awkwardly scratching his head. “Sorry about that.”

“Don't be,” Sirius says, turning to him to look him in the eyes. “I must admit, I kind of like that everyone in our lives saw you, saw me, and all had the same thought: these two should be together.”

The smile Remus gives him makes Sirius feel warm even in the December cold. Remus reaches out his hand. “Including us?”

Sirius smiles back at him as he takes the offered hand. “Yeah, we beat them to it, didn't we?” He squeezes Remus’ hand softly. “Including us.”

#my tumblr writing #wolfstar christmas fics #wolfstar christmas #wolfstar holiday fluff #coffeeshop au #smitten sirius black #good friend james potter #wolfstar #wolfstar fanfiction #wolfstar fic #marauders #marauders fanfiction #marauders fic #sirius black #remus lupin #remus x sirius #james potter

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quinnynation · 16 days ago

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hiiiii!!! normally i’m a silent reader but i had an idea pop into my head lmao

artsy!reader with chris but they’re on live on twitch and she’s drawing things that the chat recommends??? i know it’s simple but i think it’ll be cutee

"such a cozy room" ᯓᡣ𐭩 chris sturniolo one-shot

pairing : bf!chris sturniolo x gf!artsy!reader

summary : cozy art stream with chris

warning/extra tid-bits : use of y/n, explicit language, pure fluff!!

word count : 560 + not proof-read

divider credit : pics from pinterest, divider from @saradika-graphics

"Okay chat, one more 'n then I'll probably head offline for the night." You smile, your sleep-deprived eyes glancing over towards your spare monitor where you had your Twitch chat pulled up; the messages flowing in at a readable rate- thanks to slow-mode.

"Chris is here?" You ask, seeing the various messages about your boyfriend lurking as a viewer. "Chris...get the fuck out of here..." You grit through clenched teeth- hoping your chat would understand the reference you were making.

Some did, some didn't.

Chris did though, he always understood your jokes.

"Draw me!!! 🧡🧡"

Chris' begging in your chat made you smile fondly and just as you were about to give into your boyfriend's pleas, the familiar sound of a donation came through.

You glanced up, readjusting the volume on your headphones as you read the dono message; "HIII Y/N I LOVE YOUR ART SO MUCH, PLZ DRAW A DEER FOR MY FRIEND CHRISTINA?"

"Thank you so much for the ten dollars!! Okay chat, we're drawing a deer for Miss Christina" You giggle, commenting on how sweet it was for the donator to commission a doodle for their friend.

Just as you began humming along to whatever indie song was playing through your headphones, you felt your phone begin to buzz against the wooden desk.

You wrinkled your brows together, pushing your headphones down and muting your mic as you picked your phone up.

It was Chris.

You sigh lovingly as you swipe to answer your boyfriend's call, putting the cellular device up to your ear. "Yes?" You ask, already sensing where your boyfriend's antics were headed.

"Nono, unmute yourself on stream!" Chris whined, already giggling at whatever joke was about to spill out his mouth. You fake a dramatic sigh as you unmute and put him on speaker; leaning closer to your mic and looking straight into your webcam.

"Chat we have Mr.Sturniolo on the phone, and he has something to tell you all." You joke, watching as chat instantly began spamming the ear and eyes emoji.

"I do!" Chris' giggles filled your ears, making your lips curve into a smile. "Chat, do you guys see how mistreated I am?!" He joked, earning a laugh and an eyeroll from you.

"Yes, yes, you're so mistreated..." You sigh, letting Chris go on and on about how you ignored his nice request. "In my defense, you didn't even say please." You mentioned, instantly causing Chris to shut up.

"Listen...I...." Chris sputtered for words, making you crack up. "So who's really mistreated now?" You joke.

The two of you bickered back and forth, you mentioning how often you doodle him off stream anyway- Chris pretending to be hated and ignored. You loved the playful banter, because it was just that.

Playful banter.

No risk of hurting each other's feelings because you both knew deep down that you respected Chris (and spoiled him with drawings) and vice versa.

Eventually, you transferred Chris over to discord so you could actually begin drawing the requested animal- which actually reminded you of your beloved boyfriend.

"To be fair, I'm drawing a deer- so that's basically the same as drawing you." You pointed out, waving your stylus around as you spoke.

"Oh I know, who do you think sent in the 10 bucks?" Chris laughed, instantly making your jaw drop.

"YOUR CHRISTINA?"

a/n : artsy!reader the star that you are

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femsolid · 5 months ago

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Video games recommendation for women part 2

The same criteria as before: has to have a female lead and little to no misogyny

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1. Shadow of the Tomb Raider

The seemingly invincible and endlessly talented Lara Croft goes on yet another adventure, this time exploring the Amazon jungle and South American ruins looking for a magical artifact hoping to prevent her enemies, an evil organisation called Trinity, from using it.

Tomb Raider is a franchise that has changed quite a bit over the years. Ever since the reboot, Lara has become a fully fledge character and she doesn't do rock climbing in a skimpy outfit anymore (which made the boys mad, boohoo).

But sadly she still suffers from her reputation of sexy girly indiana jones which I suspect is why women don't seem that interested in her. Shame!

It's not usually the type of games I like (very over the top "blockbustery") but I got hooked the minute I set foot (or rather crashed) in the Peruvian jungle. The game is visually stunning, I loved exploring all the ancient temples, the crypts, the jungle and seeing all the animals. The puzzles were challenging, the fights were fun, it was entertaining, well made, with lots of female characters and it takes place in Peru which is just the cherry on top for me.

The only thing I didn't like was Jonah but then I never liked him. He's Lara's best friend and is pretty much there to be kidnapped and rescued in every game, which is kind of a nice reversed damsel in distress trope I suppose, but still, you're useless Jonah I kept telling my screen.

2. Alien Isolation

In this game you play as Ellen Ripley's daughter who ends up trapped in a gigantic spaceship with a lethal enemy, of course, the infamous alien: the xenomorph.

This game is perfect if you are currently suffering from constipation. It doesn't rely on cheap jumpscares and gore to scare you no, it's all about the ~ambiance~. If you are found, you are dead, simple as. And you will die... A LOT. I got an achievement for dying 50 times. I was laughing hysterically whenever the alien caught me by that point and I think the alien was too.

They say "in space no one can hear you scream" but this alien can hear your footsteps so this makes for some tense gameplay, especially as the alien's AI is very good and you are extremely vulnerable. To survive you will have to be very mindful of the noises you make and the noises the alien makes. Oh yeah, you both crawl through the same ventilation system by the way. This could make for some awkward encounter... On top of having to deal with the alien you will meet androids and humans who aren't exactly friendly either. The goal is, of course, to escape from the ship alive.

I have to give the developpers props for really making us feel like we are in an Alien movie. The music, the ship's design, the alien itself, are all very faithfull to the movies and this game is rightly considered a classic.

3. Spiritfarer

In Spiritfarer you play as Stella (and her cat) who has become the captain of a boat on which she welcomes the spirits of different people who have died. She will accompany them for a while until it's time to cross the bridge and say farewell.

It's worth mentionning, given how rare it is, that the main character is a black girl. Your job is to manage the boat (make improvements to it) and become self-sustainable: you will grow your own food, build houses for each spirit and decorate it, grow trees, collect wood, fish, feed your guests. You can make a mill, a weaving workshop, a sawmill, a kitchen, a garden, etc and arrange it as you please.

Most importantly, you will travel the sea to meet new spirits, learn about their lives and fullfill their last wishes before they are ready to leave us. And then you will cry and cry and cry as the music rises and you give them one last hug.

It's a cosy game, slow paced, lots of dialogues, cute mini-games within it, and at times really funny interactions because it all looks so cute yet the characters act and talk like normal people (they told me to fuck off quite a lot) and they will often get into unprompted anti-capitalist rants. It reminded me of Spirited Away a lot, very strange and comfy at the same time.

It's a story about death, about how each person handles it, what they look back on, and yet it's a very pleasant game.

---

As usual I will add more to the list as I reblog it and, of course, if you want to recommend a game too, you're more than welcome. I've been focusing on games with female leads lately so I'll have a lot more to add.

#video games #gaming #mp

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bucca2 · 1 year ago

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Shrike pt. 1 - words hung above but never would form

definition. male shrikes are known for their habit of catching insects and small vertebrates and impaling them on thorns

König x high school sweetheart reader

2nd person, gender neutral reader for now but reader is afab and referred to as a girl, reader is Austrian/has lived in Austria and speaks German for most of the story, romance, pining, friends to lovers, reader's nickname is Thorn, König's first name is Alexander

4.8k words

tw: bullying, brief mention of cheating and domestic abuse (not explicit, mentions of violence, and not done by König), mention of terrorism, suicidal thoughts

[NEXT]

based on this post by @ceilidho, who gave me permission to write this! many thanks <3

this post is dedicated to @papaver-decervicatus, who I am so proud of for finishing chapter 4 of her fic cat/mouse/den (which I highly recommend) and eating NO glass in the process. her headcanons for König have had a huge influence on me, and while there are some differences between julius and alexander, I absolutely must thank Caedis for her wonderful portrayal of König.

and of course, to @danibee33, for fueling my König brainrot. without you, I probably would not have returned to writing <33

disclaimer, I am not Austrian, I do not speak German, so if there's anything that needs correcting, please do reach out!

You admit, you’ve always had an affinity for protecting the weak.

When you were twelve, a bird slammed headlong into your bedroom window. The poor thing had avoided snapping its own neck but was certainly in no condition to fly. You’d bolted out of your childhood home to check on it, but by the time you arrived, a huge grey tomcat was prowling, sitting back on his haunches and ready to pounce. You generally liked cats, but this one was a mean old stray, and you’d always been frightened to go near him.

Without hesitation, you had shoved the cat aside, spitting and yowling, and taken the little bird into your hands.

It took a few days to nurse back to health, and you still remember the day you released it back into nature. It was worth the long scratch down your arm, pride swelling in your heart as it spread its wings and flew into a vivid blue sky. You remember it even now: a charming little gray bird, a streak of black coloring over its eyes. A shrike, your mother had identified it as.

People are no different than animals, sometimes. People can be cornered, battered, and bruised as well. You recognize the broken hunch of the bird you rescued in the boy sitting by himself at lunch time. His shoulders curl inwards with a desperate need to go unnoticed. You’ve seen him around: he’s not in any of your classes, but your classes always seem to end up in the same hallways, so you pass each other all the time.

He jumps a little as you slide into the seat next to him, shrinking away from you in a way that breaks your heart. “Hey.”

No response. You offer your name, but he seems reluctant to divulge his own.

“Is it okay if I sit here?”

He shrugs.

“Thanks. I don’t know anybody at this school, so it’s nice to have a friend.”

“…friend?” He has a nice voice, you think. Timid, but almost sweet.

“Well, if you’ll let me call you one.”

“…”

And so begins your friendship with König.

I was housed by your warmth Thus transformed By your grounded and giving And darkening scorn

You didn’t call him that in high school, of course. You wouldn’t know that name until much, much later. It takes a while to coax him out of his shell, cajoling him that you can’t call him “green-eyed boy” forever, to get his name.

“Alexander is a very good name,” you assure him, and he seems pleased. He’s still hesitant to speak to you at all, but that’s just fine by you. You’ve got plenty to talk about, anyway.

“You know, I read this book about Alexander the Great. There’s this crazy story about one of his battles at a city called Tyre. He was laying siege to it after a misunderstanding with their king…” you chatter on, unaware of the intense stare from the boy sitting next to you.

“…ordinarily, sieging an island is pretty difficult, but you won’t believe what he did,” you rattle on. “He—”

“He built his own bridge,” Alexander says, so quietly you almost don’t hear him at first. You look at him in surprise.

“Yes! You know this story already?”

“I read a lot about him.”

“Then why did you let me ramble on about it if you knew about it already?” You’re a little embarrassed, having felt proud of yourself for knowing niche facts about historical figures.

“I like listening to you talk.”

That shuts you up for a moment. Only for a moment though, before you start to laugh.

“What?” he asks, an edge creeping into his voice.

“Nothing! It’s just—usually people tell me the opposite,” you say. “People say I talk too much.”

“I don’t mind.” His eyes dart to your face before looking away again.

“That’s good to hear. But I hope you know this means you’re never getting rid of me now,” you tease, nudging him gently.

He doesn’t respond, but for a second, you could have sworn that a corner of his mouth had turned up into a smile.

Learning more about him is like trying to draw blood from a stone, but you do your best. He mentions sharing a room with a cousin. His oma makes the best comfort food. Sometimes his mother takes him into town to buy candy, but he has to hide it or his cousin will steal it. Not that he cares that much—he doesn’t have much of a sweet tooth, but his family doesn’t come from means, so it means a lot to him whenever his mother spares a few pennies to buy him a frivolity.

It's what he doesn’t say that tells you the most about him. The way he fidgets with his clothes when he’s nervous. The brief panic that shoots through him whenever you call his name before he relaxes when he realizes it’s just you. The way he shies away from people in the hallways, just to avoid any contact whatsoever.

The fact that he never talks about his father.

The way he curls into himself when he’s being bullied.

“You should be apologizing to me for being in my way right about now, freak,” Andreas taunts him. He’s knocked Alexander’s books to the ground, like some sort of cartoon caricature of a bully, and you’re fed up.

“Hey!” Without missing a beat, you slide yourself between Alexander and Andreas. You’ve recently hit a bit of a growth spurt, so you note with a bit of smugness that you’re at least an inch or two taller than Andreas. You’re also quite a bit taller than Alexander, you realize. The two of you are usually sitting when you talk, so you’ve never really noticed.

“Leave him alone!” You stand your ground even as Andreas fixes you with a withering glare.

“Ah, so you’re gonna let your big strong girlfriend fight your fights now, is that it?” Andreas sneers. Alexander stiffens behind you, and you decide right then and there that you’ve had enough of this nonsense.

“You’re the last person who should be bringing up girlfriends, Andreas,” you say, staring him down with a look that you hope is sufficiently intimidating. “Everybody knows Yulia broke up with you because you can’t get it up.” You don’t know Yulia. You don’t give enough of a shit about Andreas to follow the gossip about him. But by the way his cheeks get ruddy, you know you’ve struck a nerve. The handful of spectators your little confrontation has attracted snicker.

“You little bitch,” he snarls. You hear the gasp of the students surrounding you before you feel it. You put a hand to your rapidly reddening cheek.

The little twerp had slapped you.

“That’s what you get for getting in my way,” he says, with a smug little look that you want to wipe off his face.

You’re not a violent person. And honestly, you could have been expelled for what happens next. But you cast a quick glimpse behind you at Alexander on the ground, and something about the look in his eyes reminds you of that bird you rescued, and a quick and hot anger rises in you.

You punch Andreas.

With no wind-up, no warning, you break his nose, and he drops like a rock, howling and clutching at the blood pouring from his nostrils. A sick little giggle comes out of you as you watch, drowned out by the uproar of your little audience.

“What on earth is going on here?!” You hear a teacher roar, and the crowd quickly begins to scatter. Without hesitation, you pull Alexander up and escape before you can be subjected to the consequences of your actions.

“Boy, am I glad he didn’t put up more of a fight,” you say gleefully, high on adrenaline. “That could have gotten quite ugly.”

“I didn’t know you had that in you,” Alexander says when the two of you have gotten far away enough. The way he looks at you now is a little different—almost reverent.

“I didn’t know either!” you say. “I’ve never done that before!”

“Who knew such a pretty rose had such sharp thorns?” he mumbles to himself. Your eyes zip to him, and even he looks surprised at the words coming out of his mouth.

“A pretty rose?” you tease, nudging him on the arm. He flushes pink and turns away, but there’s a bit of a lopsided half-smile on his lips.

You’re not sure why, but the sight of it makes your skin tingle.

The first few years of high school are relatively uneventful outside of skirmishes with Alexander’s various tormentors. Your biggest regret is that you can’t always be there for him—sometimes you have to spend your free periods catching up on readings or speaking with teachers. But you’re always there for him afterwards, poison in your voice as you hatch plans to make his bullies’ lives miserable. The plans never go anywhere, but thinking about retribution always seems to make him perk up a little. And really, that’s all that matters to you.

It's silly, how long it took you to realize how much of a fixture he was in your life. There’s a street corner a few blocks from the school you always meet him at so the two of you can walk the rest of the way together. The few times you share classes, you’re always sitting together, exchanging notes and quietly judging your classmates together. And you always, always sit with him during lunch. Even when you start making other friends who surely would welcome you at their tables, you always return to the quiet green-eyed boy in the corner.

You tell yourself it’s because he’s lonely, and he needs the company. You tell yourself the rumors about the two of you are silly, the result of bored hormonal teenagers who can’t fathom being a genuine friend to someone of the opposite sex. You tell yourself it means nothing that your face feels warm whenever he smiles at you.

You never get the chance to figure out if it does mean anything. He gives you the bad news on the last day of classes before summer break.

“I…I see,” you say, trying to swallow past the lump in your throat. For once, you’re at a loss of what to say. His fingers twist around each other in his lap, the way they only do when he’s really anxious.

“Well, a fresh start is good, right?” You offer him a smile, but your heart’s not in it. Maybe you haven’t spent as much time with him as you used to back in first year—you’ve started to take more advanced classes, and you’ve been so swamped with homework and projects that sometimes hanging out with Alexander is put on the back burner. But you’d always taken comfort in knowing that he would always be there at mealtime. A steady presence in your life, as everything around you seems to be speeding towards a future you’re not quite ready for yet.

Now he’s leaving. You’d like to think your concern is for him—what’s to say his new school won’t also be rife with harassment? Will he be able to make new friends? Or will he be all alone at the lunch table again? But really, who are you trying to fool? The sudden heaviness in your chest is selfish. What are you going to do without him?

The roaring in your head stills as you feel his hand cover yours. You stare at it dumbly, unable to lift your head and look him in the eyes. Your gut feels like it’s flipping and twisting all over itself.

You lift your eyes to his. For one breathless, indescribable moment, you think he’s going to kiss you. You’re sure he’s going to kiss you. You lean closer to him, and you can feel his breath on your lips.

Your eyes slide shut.

A shout startles your eyes back open, and he jolts away from you. It’s your mother, calling that she’s here to pick you up. You let out a frustrated noise as you call back to her that you’re coming before turning back to him.

The moment is long gone, and your heart twinges with regret as he avoids meeting your gaze. “You’ll write to me, won’t you?” you say softly. “And we can still see each other?”

“Of course I will, rosethorn,” he says, with that shy little smile you love so much.

You don’t see him for another ten years.

I couldn't utter my love when it counted I couldn't whisper when you needed it shouted Ah, but I'm singing like a bird 'bout it now

It’s ironic, really. Saving birds. Saving boys. But the one person you can’t save is yourself.

Your life post-König is like the drop on a roller coaster, but with none of the thrill. High school flies by in a flurry of deadlines and mental breakdowns. It’s worth it when you get into a good university—at least, you thought so. In reality, there’s no work in Austria for someone with your degree. Your parents are older, well on their way towards retirement, so you find yourself unwilling to burden them. You’re lost, stuck, and so very alone.

And then you meet him.

Tall, handsome, a little older, with a blossoming career. In hindsight, how much of a perfect package he presented himself as was the earliest red flag. But when you’re young and behind on rent, anything better than that feels like a miracle.

You know better, really. You knew it the whole time. Getting married after knowing each other for 2 months isn’t as bad as it could be, but it’s still too quick for your comfort. But the eviction notice was on your door, and he was a perfect gentleman. What could go wrong, right?

Everything. He at least has the decency to keep up the façade for another month, but that’s the only credit you’ll ever give the man you’ve shackled yourself to. It becomes increasingly obvious that he only married you to have a live-in maid while he philanders around as he pleases. You try, oh god do you try, for five long, fruitless years. God, it’s so silly when you think about it. You liked him so much, it took you so long to realize he had never liked you in the first place. He’d scooped up the first desperate college grad he’d found, and thinking about it makes you want to hide from everyone you know.

Which you do: hiding from what few friends you do have, hiding from your parents, hiding from the part of your brain that screams that you’re wasting the best years of your life cleaning up after a grown man who won’t even touch you, much less fuck you. Your 20s are for drinking, one-night stands, and figuring out what the fuck the rest of your life is going to look like. There is plenty of drinking, but the rest of it, not so much.

You’re going to divorce him, you tell yourself in year six. Once you get a job, you’re out. But you’re no fresh grad anymore, and the 6-year gap in your resume isn’t helping matters. You spot a glimpse of light at the end of the tunnel when he tells you you’re moving: his company is offering him a higher paid position, and it’s in a bustling downtown area. Plenty of opportunity for you, right?

That’s when he starts hitting you.

You’re away from your parents, your friends, your home. You took English classes, but that won’t exactly help you in this equally European foreign country whose language you don’t speak. Now that you’re approaching your 30s, your husband seems to be rapidly realizing that his youth is also disappearing. His new job is more stressful, and most days he has no outlet for it other than taking it out on you.

Now you long for the days when he didn’t come home until you’d already fallen asleep.

And then the terror attacks begin, and your once-bustling city shuts down. More isolation. Even less hope. You stay at home all day, torn between hoping someone will get rid of your husband for you and the abject terror of being left all alone in a foreign country torn apart by violent partisans.

That’s when the despair really sets in: you’ve wasted over a decade in this awful, dead-end relationship. Sure, you’ve got a roof over your head and food in your stomach: you should feel grateful. But you don’t.

You start hoping the attacks will take you out instead.

I fled to the city with so much discounted Ah, but I'm flying like a bird to you now Back to the hedgerows where bodies are mounted

“There are mercenaries in town.”

You look up from your breakfast, lost in thought thinking about all the errands you have to run today. “Yeah?”

“About time we stopped relying on our corrupt fucking military,” he grumbles. “Maybe they’ll end this goddamn conflict once and for all.”

You don’t have much to say about that. What does it matter to you, anyway? The only conflict that matters to you lives at home, and you stopped trying to fight it a long time ago.

“The curfew’s a pain in the ass, though. You behave yourself, you hear me?” His sharp glare reminds you that he’s not saying this out of a concern for your safety: if you make trouble for him, you’ll pay for it later. You nod mutely.

Your morning goes by relatively uneventfully. You do the dishes, stare at the wall, sigh, stare at the wall some more. As much of a prison as this apartment is, you like it decently well when he’s not in it. Going outside and seeing the ravages of war all around you is anxiety-inducing. But you can’t put off buying groceries anymore.

The arrival of the mercenaries makes itself immediately apparent. The streets are somehow even emptier, and what people there are on the streets move quickly and cast suspicious glances at everyone else.

You were hoping not to interact with anybody, but your hopes are dashed when you see a checkpoint ahead, manned by soldiers in unfamiliar uniforms. Although most of them are wearing different gear, they still look more orderly and well-kept than the country’s own military. Murder must pay well.

You look around nervously, but there’s no alternate route here, and nobody local going through with you. You strongly consider going home, but you’d just have to do this all over again tomorrow.

You steel yourself with a deep breath.

“Identification?”

You show the mercenary your ID with trembling fingers, gripping your bag tightly and praying he doesn’t find your nervousness suspicious.

“Where are you headed?”

“Just—just down the street,” you say, wincing at your heavy German accent. Years upon years of living here and you still sound like a foreigner. “Getting food.” You’re so anxious you forget the word for “groceries” for a moment. You only know enough of the local language to get by, and you’re sure you must sound like a kindergartener.

The soldier raises an eyebrow at you. “You are German?”

“I…Austrian,” you answer hesitantly. Oh God, you hope there’s no issue with that. You’re not so much afraid of being detained as you are of getting home too late to make dinner.

“Interesting.” The soldier hands back your ID. “Our commander is Austrian, as well.”

You perk up a little bit at that. You’ve met a handful of German-speakers here, but not a single one of your countrymen.

Well. Aside from the one who came here with you.

“He should actually be arriving here any moment now. Big guy in a hood. You can’t miss him. They call him König.” As if on cue, a military grade vehicle pulls up to the checkpoint, military personnel stepping out. And then…

Your blood runs cold.

Nothing, nothing could have prepared you for the sight of the beast that steps out of the car. Even from a short distance, you can tell he’s a colossal size. Two metres tall, easily, wearing a dark hood that reminds you of a medieval executioner. And as if that weren’t intimidating enough, two red trails, like bloody tears, are bleached under his eyes. His eyes, which must have some sort of black paint around them, giving him the impression of being two eyes staring out at you from the pitch blackness of the hood.

Two piercing green eyes.

Trained directly on your face.

Staring in disbelief.

“I…need to return home. I’ve forgotten something.” All worries about appearing suspicious fly out the window as the enormous man in the hood hesitates for a moment before making his way towards you with alarming speed.

You all but fly back down the street, making a beeline for your building. Just a few moments ago, you were excited to meet the man. Now, the image of his eyes staring into yours fills you with a fear you can’t describe.

The next day you take a long detour to avoid the checkpoint. It’ll take you twice as long to get home this time, but it’s worth it. You can’t put the shopping off another day: the brand-new bruise on your arm throbs as a reminder. And you certainly don’t want to run into the hooded soldier again.

You get your shopping done without much fanfare. The old lady cashier, who usually looks at you from over her glasses with the stern look you’ve seen a lot of people around here level at foreigners, even pressed a piece of candy from behind the register into your hand. You’re pretty sure it’s just because she wanted to get rid of it, but it does wonders for your mood.

You’re busy plotting when to enjoy your little treat when you turn a corner and freeze.

He’s here. He’s there, standing in an alleyway near your building. Somehow even larger than you remember him yesterday, still wearing that awful hood.

Does he know where you live? You curse yourself for running straight home yesterday. He must have seen the direction you went in—or did he follow you? You attempt to quietly retreat and take another route home, but your shoe scuffs a paving stone. And like a hawk spotting its prey, his head darts towards you.

You book it.

“Wait!” calls a deep voice. Tears spring to your eyes as you hear heavy footsteps pursuing you. What have you done to deserve this? You’re no criminal. Your only crime is being a naïve dumbass in your twenties.

Your arm burns as you turn corner after corner, not bothering to take note of where you’re going. It’s no use, though: you can hear him gaining on you. Fuck, is this it? You can’t even fathom what he wants you for, and you don’t want to think about it either—

“Rosethorn!” You come to a screeching halt.

There’s only one person who has ever called you that.

You turn around, chest heaving with exertion, as the hooded soldier—König, the soldier said his name was—comes into view, approaching you slowly.

“It’s me,” he says, holding his hands out like he’s approaching a wounded animal. You’re not really sure what the point is, considering the gigantic knife he’s got strapped to his thigh is intimidating all on its own, but somehow it still puts you at ease.

“Alex...?” you whisper, hardly daring to believe it.

“Yes,” he says. His posture has changed from when you saw him at the checkpoint. He’s hunching over, trying to make himself smaller. It reminds you of that first day when you sat next to him at lunch.

It’s him.

You instantly drop all your bags and cling to him in a hug, tears spilling from your eyes. He’s so different: most obviously, he's so tall. He must have hit some growth spurt after he moved away, because he towers over you now. You can feel under all the gear that he’s put on serious muscle—not surprising for a soldier, of course. And when his arms fold themselves over you, you’re filled with a sense of safety you haven’t felt in a long time.

“What are you doing here?” you both ask at the same time. A giggle bubbles out of you as you watch his eyes crinkle in an obvious smile. God, his eyes are so green.

“I’m stationed here because of the conflict,” he says. “But what are you doing here? I contacted your parents, and they said you had moved here, but they didn’t say why.”

You’re not surprised. You’re still in contact with your parents, but you don’t talk about the elephant in your home. You know they would have helped you, if only you had asked for it, but you never have.

“I…it’s complicated,” you say, withdrawing from the hug. You stare at the ground, brushing away the wetness in your eyes.

“I have nothing urgent right now,” he says, staring at you intently.

You swallow past the lump in your throat. “I…got married,” you whisper.

Instantly, his body language changes, stiffening in shock. He takes a half-step away from you, which makes you want to cry all over again. This is awful. This is humiliating. You wish you could go back in time and shake some sense into yourself.

“I see,” he says in a strangled voice. “Congratulations.”

Despite your best efforts, the tears spill over again. “No, not congratulations,” you say. “It—”

It was the worst mistake of your life, you want to say, but you just can’t get the words out. He must notice you beginning to quake with fear, because he raises a hand to touch you gently on the arm—right on the bruise.

His stare hardens as he watches you flinch. “Rosethorn, what’s the matter?”

Everything, you want to say. I’m standing in an alleyway with my childhood crush, shaking like a leaf because a monster lives in my house, and I can’t get away from him.

With a feather-like touch surprising for a man with such large hands—he grew so much— he goes to push up your sleeve. You catch a glimpse of the bruise before you have to turn away again, shuddering. It’s ugly: black and green, and very clearly shaped like a human grip.

“I…bumped into a shelf,” you say lamely. You can’t bring yourself to rope him into your troubles. He’s a soldier now, for Pete’s sake. He has bigger problems.

You can’t read his expression due to the hood—but there’s a blazing anger in his eyes you remember all too well. The quiet fury you often saw in him so many years ago.

He must see in your expression that you don’t want to be questioned about it right now, and thankfully, he relents. With an ease in his movement that must stem from some newfound confidence, he reaches over and picks up your bags for you. “Let me carry these for you.”

It’s nice, to be taken care of for once.

Your mad dash took both of you quite far away from your building, so you have enough time for quite a nice little chat. You tell him about your time in university, he tells you what happened to him after he moved away. He’d jumped at the chance to enlist as soon as he turned 17, on the recommendation of an uncle who had spent time in the military. You laugh when he tells you that they wouldn’t let him be a sniper, a pout in his tone. You could have imagined him as a sniper back in high school, but he’s so large now it’s impossible not to notice him.

“The discipline was good for me,” he recounts. “I needed to grow a spine.”

“Don’t say that. You were just trying to get by in school, like everybody else.”

He shrugs. “I wanted to be like you.”

“Like me?” You ask incredulously.

“My rose with thorns,” he says, with a fondness that makes you blush. “Do you remember that day you punched that punk Andreas?”

“How could I forget? My fist hurt for days,” you say with a grin. “But I didn’t regret it for a second.”

He looks down at you—that’s new—with pride in his eyes. “I thought about you that day all throughout training,” he says. “You were my guardian angel.”

Your cheeks grow even warmer, and you feel like a teenager again. How can he still make you feel this way so easily after all this time? “He had a punchable face,” you say dismissively. “If not me, then it would have been someone else.”

You’re almost disappointed to arrive home. Only yesterday, home was your sanctuary. Now, it means being separated from the one person you trust fully in this country. You turn to him, almost bashful. “This is where I live."

He sets the bags down like they’re made of fine china, and he’s standing so close you almost stop breathing. The air is charged, the same way it felt that night when you almost kissed. You watch him as he watches you.

“Can I see you again?” he asks, breaking the silence.

“Of course,” you say, and the sparkle in his eye dazzles you.

You watch him leave until you can’t see him anymore. And for once, you enter your home with a light heart.

Remember me, love When I'm reborn As the shrike to your sharp And glorious thorn

if you'd like to be added to the taglist, just drop a reply! feedback is always appreciated, and my inbox is open, so please feel free to drop me an ask! I will 100% write little scenarios/headcanons about this couple because I have so many thoughts and ideas for them lol

I anticipate about 2-3 parts for this, maybe with König pov in the next part? he doesn't come across this way in this part, because it's from Thorn's perspective, but he is a very nasty boy indeed. also, I know putting lyrics in the middle of a fic is so passé, but I can't help myself. it's hozier! indulge me. also this isn't beta read so I really hope it doesn't suck

#bucca writes #könig #könig x reader #könig cod #könig mw2 #call of duty #cod mw2 #cod x reader #cod #mw2 #konig #konig cod #konig x reader #fic:shrike

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livelaughghoul · 1 month ago

Note

Omg girl with honorary daddy I just meant all the hot elderlies that aren’t on the current grid but should defo be included. But ok here are my recommendations:

The current grid

+ Danny Ric ,Kimi Raikkonen, Sebastian Vettel, Mick Schumacher, Jenson Button, Nico Rosberg

Toto Wolf,

Peter Bonnington,

Daddy Stroll,

Fred Vasseur,

Adrian Newey 😭,

Helmut Marko 💀,

Christian Horner

And I think thar should be enough. I included some personal icks as well this should be so much fun

Here is my smash or pass for the current grid and members below, and my reasoning behind the answer. I hope you all know this is a judgment free zone, please…

Charles Leclerc: smash, but only because I feel like there is some sort of obligation to find this man incredibly attractive. Don’t get me wrong, he’s attractive in a conventional way, but he doesn’t necessarily do it for me.

Carlos Sainz: pass, but if it were his dad? Absolutely would smash this man’s dad. Honestly he’s too pretty for me, like I would ruin him and I don’t want that guilt.

Oscar Piastri: pass, only because I feel like we’re both way too introverted and it would just be weird. Plus I think seeing my hidden tattoos and piercings (I have my nipples and multiple genital piercings btw lol) would potentially give him a heart attack and I don’t want that heat.

Lando Norris: pass, honestly he does nothing for me. I’ve watched a few of Max’s streams (I actually like Max!) and I think mom friend mode would be activated and I’d just lecture him about taking care of himself because what the fuck do you mean you have the money to buy a car but not groceries? Are you dumb?

Max Verstappen: smash, but only because I find his attitude and general demeanor attractive, not necessarily him.

Sergio Perez: SMASH, SMASH, SMASH. No explanation needed.

Nico Hulkenberg: pass, he’s too pretty and honestly I would bad getting between the haasbands, like they’re end game for me.

Kevin Magnussen: ignore my answer above, because I’m absolutely smashing certified track terror Kevin.

Pierre Gasly: give me a few shots of tequila and I’ll smash, but otherwise it’s a pass.

Esteban Ocon: smash, he’s got a really nice voice and I love his accent specifically so like, it makes sense.

Alex Albon: pass, but only because I want the chance to see the animals on his apparent farm. Also let me pet your cats please and thank you.

Franco Colapinto: pass, I’m not a mother so it wouldn’t happen anyways. Also I feel like I’d end up in a similar situation to Lando where mom friend mode gets activated and im taking this grown man grocery shopping because what do you mean your fridge is fucking empty?

Logan Sargeant (yes I’m including him, fight me): pass, only because this is my literal son and I love him and want to protect him. I would die for him.

George Russell: smash, I could break this man and I think it would be fun.

Lewis Hamilton: smash, I think he could break me and it would be fun.

Fernando Alonso: SMASH, SO MUCH SMASHING MY DUDES. LIKE SO MUCH.

Lance Stroll: pass, again, he doesn’t do it for me but his dad certainly does.

Yuki Tsunoda: pass, he’s too just a little guy for me.

Liam Lawson: pass, I don’t like his attitude and I feel like I’d want to discuss why he feels the need to be so performative with how he presents himself and it would just be a lot.

Zhou Guanyu: pass, but only because I want to hang out with his cat and not him.

Valtteri Bottas: smash, feels natural and like it would be an experience nothing would be able to replicate, ever.

Daniel Ricciardo: SMASH, no hesitation. I love a slutty thigh tattoo. I’m a sucker for this man.

Kimi Raikkonen: yall know I’m smashing, this is obvious. I’m in love with this man.

Sebastian Vettel: I’m smashing, but I’m not super into it. I’m more here to talk about sustainability and figure out what I can do to assist. It’s not a fulfilling smash.

Mick Schumacher: he’s literally so pretty, like so pretty. I’m afraid it’s a pass though guy, like I think I would almost feel guilty?? Like he’s so pretty and I’m just a feral little swamp goblin?? It’s not fair.

Jenson Button: smashing, 100%. I feel like this needs no explanation.

Nico Rosberg: pass, but it’s like a really difficult pass.

Toto Wolff: fucking smash my dudes, like I am actively ruining my marriage at the chance to smash (this is a joke I love my husband very much). I’m beginning to realize there is a bit of theme in my answers…

Peter Bonnington: have you seen the size of this dudes chest? The size of his arms? Smash, I’d be crazy not to.

Daddy stroll: smash, absolutely. Honestly? Frothing at the mouth for him.

Fred Vasseur: NO ONE JUDGE ME. Smash, and I’m not proud of it.

Adrian Newey:….smash….swear to god yall better not judge me. He’s just really smart and I find that attractive!!

Helmut Marko: pass, but only because I’m pretty sure if he saw my nipple or clit piercings he would die and I don’t need that additional trauma, ya know?

Christian Horner: pass, he looks too squirrelly to me.

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donutz · 10 months ago

Text

Catnap x reader Valentine's Day special[2♡8]

A/N|| Sorry for this not being uploaded on Valetine's Day, it was school and stuff, I was also very tired! And had to do Taekwondo(╥_╥)

—☆You are a smiling critter in this, if u want to know which one(but don't know what animal or insect to pick) you could start out as a sheep!

What did they do in the morning on Valentines?

— He was sleeping in the morning.

— But he kept the gifts near him, just in case

— He curled his tail around the singular rose he got you, and a small goodie bag

What did they do for you?

— He (sadly, because he doesn't really like socializing) asked Bobby Bearhug about what he should get

— Since she is pretty serious about things like this, she bases the gifts on that person's personality

— She went, “Hmm… For you? You should get one rose! Anddd one small goodie bag! That's perfect for you! Here, I'll get the stuff for the goodie bag—”

— He didn't want to follow along, but he did it anyways

— He wanted to gift you for Valentine's Day

— He tried not to be annoyed at Bobby, for your sake

— You told him to be more nice, around anybody

— And apparently, you're right…

What did they get you?

— One rose and a small goodie bag

— The goodie bag had your favorite candies, and a little note, he thought a lot about it, so appreciate it please

— He only got the things that Bobby Bearhug recommended, because he doesn’t really know what to gift

— Even if he remembers every little thing about you

What did you give them?

— A toy fish

— A dark purple blanket with a bunch of crescent moons on it, with your scent

— And a bouquet with black roses

Did they do anything special? (Extra hugs, kisses, changing their routine etc.)

— Asking Bobby Bearhug is something special, that’s what he thinks, especially since he doesn’t like interacting

— And him hugging you first, that’s pretty special, and new

What activities did you both do?

— He invited you to hide away from everybody else, just to spend some time together

— You accepted, after all this is a chance of a lifetime!

— While you were there, you two cuddled against each other

Did they seem brighter today?

— He’s trying to, but he can’t really seem happy when he’s represents the dark

Anything new about their appearance?

— Bobby Bearhug also told him he should wear a suit with a red rose on the chest pocket

— And yes, he wore it

— You smiled a little at his formal appearance

How many times did they say I love you?

— When you two were alone, he said it. Very quietly.

— Luckily, you recorded it, so you could listen whenever you wanted to!!

— Yes, he knew you recorded it and still said it

— He just hopes you don't show it to anybody else

Did they ask to be your Valentines, or did they ask if you could be their Valentines? There’s a difference!

— It took him a while to say it, but he managed to spit it out

— He asked if you could be his Valentines

What did they do the night before Valentine's Day?

— He forgot that it was the day before Valentine's Day

Were they shy asking to be your Valentines or when they asked if you could be their Valentines?

— No(Yes), not shy, but nervous, hoping he'd say the right thing because he kind of unsure about Valentine's Day

Did they add anything extra to their areas(their little homes)? Or their activities?

— He put your gifts in a little backpack he hangs on the wall

What did they do when it was time to sleep?

— He did his usual nightly routine of being a night guard, occasionally opening kids’ rooms to see if they’re sleeping and their Valentines gifts for ‘inspiration’

Question♡ Did anybody ask to be your Valentines(or the other way around)? If not, that’s okay, nobody really asked me either ^_^

#poppy playtime #poppy playtime x reader #smiling critters #gender neutral #gender neutral reader #gn reader #catnap #catnap x reader #valentines day special #valentines day #happy valentine's day #catnap x reader valentines day special

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genderqueerdykes · 9 days ago

Note

please post more about alterhumanity I love to see it!!

sure! i'll see what i can come up with off the top of my head

i told my mom numerous times throughout my childhood that i wasn't human, but i didn't for real find out i'm nonhuman until i was somewhere around 19 or so. i finally joined the furry community, and was following someone on tumblr who was talking about their dragon kintype. i started googling "otherkin" and reading about it and realized oh wait. other people are like this too?

i figured out i was an elf first. that was fairly easy, i interacted with a lot of other elves since it was a very common kintype at the time. i did trade some really cool experiences, people really had some interesting ideas on what nonhumanity was about. my best friend and roommate at the time actually knew about me being otherkin, but he wasn't really the most supportive about it. he just kinda used it as a way to wedge himself into otherkin spaces and start debates and arguments with people. so over time i stopped talking about it with him

over the years though, i've not really stopped identifying as nonhuman. because i'm plural, i have a lot of nonhuman alters, and some that are from fictional sources. i would say every 6 - 12 months or so, one of us realizes some part of their nonhumanity, or a new alter who is nonhuman shows themselves and talks about their nonhumanity.

as much as i don't like how decentralized the otherkin community has come, it's been nice to figure things out on my own. back in the 2010s, people were very strict about what "counts" as otherkin. you would be guilted into trying to figure out if you have memories of that life, what "deeper meaning" your kintypes have to you, and so on. back then, people would harass new kin and make them jump through hoops to truly identify as their nonhuman selves. it messed me up for quite a while thinking i had to have a super deep connection that takes a lifetime to uncover in order to be a "real" otherkin

i actually have been staff for/ran a few nonhuman communities over the years! i found it to be a lot of fun because it's not as serious as queer issues, and there's a lot less arguing about real world politics and whatnot. while those topics are important, sometimes you need a space free of all of that. plus a really fun part of the nonhuman community is learning about animals and fictional creatures and people you've never heard of before. there's definitely no shortage of anime recommendations in fictionkin and fictive spaces that's for sure

i actually discovered the concept of plurality through nonhuman spaces, as many nonhumans are also plural. either spiritually, due to mental health conditions, naturally or something else, there's a lot of plurals in those communities. i met my first plural friend in the otherkin community and they taught me alot about the experience that i was going through in the moment as well. it tends to be a space that's very open to the concept of plurality and it's really nice

the nonhuman types that myself and my system collectively identify with the most are definitely my canine kintypes. i am very connected to both wolves and coyotes- i actually figured out i was a coyote first, almost a decade ago! it took me a lot more years to finally confirm i'm also a wolf. i've always felt very drawn toward coyotes for one reason or another- it's an animal i look at and think "hey that's what i look like".

i do wear dog collars because i identify as a dog as well! i'm part of the pup play community, though it is nonsexual for me, i just really enjoy being able to act out being a canine creature. i actually had a dog bed for a while that i slept on, but i haven't been able to get a new one. wearing a collar can be very comforting for me. not only do i find them adorable, but it's something that feels very personally correct to me.

horses are also really important to us as well. they are an animal we've looked at and gone "that's me" as well throughout our life. we have no desire to ride horses, but we would love to care for them and be around them. hooved animals in general have always been something we've felt a personal connection to as well. we've also been questioning whether or not we identify as a cow.

i'd love to get some accessories like ears, tails, paws, etc. in the future, and honestly, i've always wanted a fursuit/fursuits. like i adore them so much. i think they're such a creative artform and i've always wanted to learn how to make them. i think they're just. so fucking cool. hopefully i can get or make one some day!

overall accepting my nonhumanity has made my life a lot easier. i generally have phantom sensations of ears, tails and paws throughout my day to day life, and i don't really feel connected to humanity on a personal level. it's tiring to pretend like i see the world through a human lens because i just do not. it doesn't negatively impact my life whatsoever. i still do things i have to do, like pay my rent and bills, work, and so on. i can live a fulfilling life while acknowledging that my mind and soul are not that of a human

if i think of anything else, i'll add it in the reblogs! thanks for this ask i enjoy talking about my nonhumanity!

#asks #answers #nonhuman #alterhuman #therian #otherkin #about us

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charlottesbookclub · 6 months ago

Text

easy love (eddie munson x f!reader) 🖤🖤

for my dear @theold-ultraviolence because you deserve a nice day with eddie 🥰🥰

Summary: you and eddie attend the county fair near hawkins

Warnings/Tags: femme!reader (terms like "my lady" are used, but there are no physical descriptors); absolute pure tooth-rotting fluff; I think that's it, but as always, let me know if I've missed anything! ☺️

Words: 2857

Recommended Listening: Easy Love – Parris Mitchell

Helpful Info:

Beholder – a monster from dungeons and dragons that looks like a giant floating eye

Funnel Cake – a sweet fried dessert that is a staple at US fairs (I'm sure they're eaten elsewhere as well, but to me they're very much associated with the fair ☺️)

Author’s Note: eddie isn't a character that I've written a lot for, so I hope this feels in-character for him 🥰💕 I've mostly written this for a dear friend who deserves a little treat (ily irma 🥰🖤), but I hope it can find anyone who might need a fluffy little pick-me-up ☺️🥰 also it is a complete coincidence that the "easy love" lyric video features a ferris wheel – I had never watched the video until I was finding the link to put here after I'd already finished the fic and was prepping the post 🤯🤯 guess it just proves that this was meant to be 😌💖 as always, I hope y'all enjoy! ☺️💕

The scent hit you the instant you popped open the passenger side door of Eddie’s van and prepared to jump out: dust and sugar and animals and fried food and sweat. A unique combination of smells that heralded your arrival at the county fair. Before you could push yourself off the worn leather seat, Eddie came sprinting around the front of the van.

“Hold up waitwaitwaitwait,” he ushered you back into your seat. “This is a date, right? I’m supposed to get the door for you.”

“Oh, I didn’t know I was being courted by such a chivalrous gentleman,” you laughed. “Please, Sir Eddie, continue,” you invited as you pulled the door closed again. The next second, he opened it once more with a dramatic flourish and deep bow.

“My Lady, your humble suitor awaits the honor of your hand,” Eddie said in a terrible posh accent before offering his hand for you to take. You couldn’t help but laugh at his theatrics as you maneuvered yourself out of the van, using his hand for stability as your feet hit the dusty ground of the lot. He shoved the door closed with a practiced kick, but did not release your hand as the two of you began walking toward the fair entrance.

“Munson, was this whole thing a ploy so you could hold my hand?” you asked in teasing accusation, holding up your still-linked hands as proof of your claim. Eddie’s deep brown eyes widened in mock surprise as though seeing your intertwined fingers for the first time.

“You would accuse me – your loyal and devoted knight – of beguiling you?” he gasped in exaggerated shock.

“Oh I just might,” you giggled, knocking your shoulder against his as he tried to dodge the movement – a difficult endeavor considering that he still refused to let go of your hand. He then pulled himself back toward you, pressing his mouth close to your ear, his dark curls tickling your skin.

“And you might be correct,” he whispered, an edge of barely-contained laughter in his voice, “but don’t tell anyone else my secret – I have a reputation to maintain, you know.” You nodded with mock seriousness and mimed zipping your lips and throwing away the key.

“Your secrets are safe with me—oh look: cows!” you interrupted your own sentence as you passed a small round barn and caught a glimpse of the animals within. Switching direction, you pulled Eddie toward the entrance.

It was cooler in the barn, shielded from the sun and with huge box fans blowing from the rafters. The sweet smell of hay and dusty scent of the cows lingered in the air as the two of you made your way down one of the rows of animals.

You stopped at the stall of a particularly sweet looking cow, her mostly cream-colored face flecked with brown as she slowly chewed some hay. You reached your free hand out gently and touched the soft patch of fuzz on her forehead. Seeming to like the gesture, she nuzzled her wet nose against your palm, and you giggled. Her expressive, soft, deep brown eyes reminded you of something, and it only took you a second to realize what.

“Look Eds, you’ve got the same eyes!”

Eddie rolled his own chocolatey eyes, but stepped closer to the cow nonetheless. He reached out a tentative hand to stroke her head like you had, and when his hand met her fur, he let out a noise of surprise.

“Oh – it’s really soft!” he exclaimed. Almost as though in response, the cow let out a low moo and pushed her nose against Eddie’s outstretched hand just as she had to yours. He pulled his hand back abruptly, wiping it down the front of his shirt. “Ewww – it’s wet!”

“The great knight Eddie, laid low by the wet nose of a cow,” you lamented in feigned sorrow, shaking your head mournfully.

“Hey! How was I supposed to know it would feel like that?” he retorted, unable to keep the light sparkle of a laugh out of his voice. “You’re right though – about the eyes. I thought you were joking, but I take it as a great compliment to share eyes with this noble beast.”

“Of course I meant it as a compliment, silly” you knocked your shoulder against his again, much more gently this time, “you know I couldn’t resist either of you, looking at me with those sun-warmed melted-chocolate eyes. Practically got me in a trance.”

“Then you wouldn’t argue if I suggested we go try some games?”

“I wouldn’t have argued anyway, but now I’m going to need some convincing – show me what those big brown eyes can do.”

With a great deal of theatricality, Eddie brushed his curls back and bent slightly to make sure he could look up at you properly. He drew his mouth into a little pout and widened his eyes, ribbons of gold and deeper brown visible in the warm sea of his milk chocolate irises, even in the dim light of the barn.

“Please?” he begged in the most pathetic voice he could manage without breaking into laughter.

“Of course!” you responded, laughing, and Eddie instantly snapped back to his full height, joining in your giggles. The cow mooed again and rocked her head to the side, almost as though telling you two to get out of the barn and enjoy the rest of the fair.

“See?” Eddie pointed to the cow, “she thinks so too!” He popped a small salute at the cow as you rolled your eyes and pulled him back out of the barn. From there, he led the way as you wound through gaggles of sticky children, packs of sweaty teens, and pairs of exhausted parents. Your hand was growing incredibly warm in Eddie’s firm grip, but you didn’t mind at all. You were happy to let him guide you through the crowd to whatever game he had his heart set on.

He finally came to a stop outside one of the many colorful tents that populated the fair. Under this one was a large table, covered from edge to edge in glass bowls, some of which had goldfish in them.

“You’re not serious?”

“On the contrary, I’m the most serious. Other guys are winning their girlfriends weird stuffed bears and lame plastic roses. I want to get you something cool!”

“Eds, that is so sweet, but you know this game is so rigged, right? One of my friends spent all their tickets on it last year and never got a fish.”

“Well, lucky for me, I’m different, and I’m going to win my girlfriend a fish,” he huffed with exaggerated bravado and another theatrical bow. You laughed despite yourself and shook your head with bemused affection as you stepped back and watched him exchange a couple tickets for a handful of rings.

He lined up each throw carefully, holding the little plastic rings lightly in his hand as he flexed his wrist back and forth, preparing for the toss. The first few landed well, but on the exterior bowls that were filled with decorative rocks and crumples of colorful paper. The points could be added up for smaller prizes, but he rejected those, opting to pay a few more tickets for another set of rings. You could see him hitting his stride, these rings landing closer to the center, some even bouncing off the edges of the bowls with real fish in them. With each near-miss you noticed him leaning forward in anticipation and then deflating a little as the ring failed to find its mark. You were about to walk back up to him and pull him gently away, tell him that you really didn’t need a fish; you couldn’t bear to see him disappointed.

Before you could though, he handed a couple more tickets to the attendant in return for another set of rings. The first couple landed so close that you found yourself holding your breath a little, waiting to see if they would come to rest over a fishbowl. By the time he was down to his last one, you were determined not to let him waste any more tickets, and had begun to move towards him when he released the final ring with a measured flick of his wrist. The little circle of orange plastic sailed through the air and came to a perfect landing around the centermost glass bowl on the table – the one with the biggest fish. You stopped in your tracks, looking on in shock for a moment as the attendant went to remove the ring and transfer the fish to a little plastic bag. You snapped yourself out of your stupor and rushed the last few steps to Eddie, wrapping your arms around him in a tight hug.

“You actually did it!”

“Of course I did – I promised you I would, didn’t I?” He struck a heroic pose, but underneath his exaggerated confidence, you could see relief, and perhaps even a little bit of surprise.

The attendant handed the bag with the fish to Eddie, which he took with the utmost care. He then turned and presented it to you with a flurry of flourishing hand gestures and a series of deep and dramatic bows.

“My Lady, in your name I have slayed the great Dragon of the Rings, and I present to you its great treasure!”

“Sir Eddie!” you echoed his theatrics with an elaborate curtsy of your own, “I am honored and flattered by this great gift!”

You held out your hands with great seriousness, ready to receive the fish, and his placed the bag carefully into your waiting hands with a final bow. Picking up the top of the bag, you studied the little creature within. It was a shimmery golden-orange with feathery fins that trailed a little in the water and huge, bulging eyes that projected from either side of its head.

“Hmmmm… now to think of a name for this little guy,” you murmured. Then an idea came to mind:

“Beholder!” you exclaimed at the exact same moment as Eddie. A beat of surprised silence passed before you both broke into peals of laughter.

“It’s the eyes, isn’t it?” you wheezed.

“Yeah – it’s the eyes,” Eddie agreed in gasping breaths between laughs.

“Shall we take our new son Beholder to see the rest of the fair?” you asked when you had both recovered a bit.

“After you, my lady,” Eddie gestured for you to lead the way.

Your first stop was the fun house where Eddie had to guide you through the spinning tunnel painted with black and white spirals since you kept losing your balance. Despite the dizzying swirls that kept causing you to trip, you relished the casual closeness of Eddie behind you, his arms pressed against yours as you held Beholder to your chest, gently directing you through the tunnel. At the end you held Beholder up to the series of distorted mirrors, both of you dying of laughter when the warped surfaces made his buggy eyes even bigger than they already were.

Next up was a food cart selling funnel cakes. Your comment that the pile of fried dough resembled guts resulted in you and Eddie pretending to be orcs consuming the entrails of a slain enemy. The little container of raspberry jam that accompanied the funnel cake made this all the more convincing, as it proved to be a sticky but delicious fake blood that Eddie slathered over the fried treat. Beholder watched from his bag on the old wooden picnic table, eyes wide as you both took turns dramatically ripping pieces from the cake with your fingers and dipping them in even more jam.

Satisfied with your meal of the viscera of your enemy, you both returned to the games, taking turns holding Beholder while the other played. You won a little bear while picking ducks and Eddie got a small plastic sword at the dart toss. You only had a couple tickets left as the sun was beginning to sink toward the horizon and the heat of the day was fading to a more comfortable evening.

“Wanna spend our last tickets on the ferris wheel?” Eddie asked.

“Sure! If you don’t think it will make the baby too sick…” you replied with feigned seriousness, stroking Beholder’s bag protectively. You couldn’t keep up the act long though, and both of you devolved into laughter as you made your way toward the large circular structure at the back of the fair.

When you were both settled in your seat and the creaking metal frame lurched to life, you watched as the little carriage slowly lifted from the loading area and into the air. Glancing over at Eddie, you found him looking anxious, his long fingers fidgeting with the rings on his hands.

“Hey Eds, you good?”

“Can I tell you a secret?” he dodged your question, answering with one of his own instead.

“Of course,” you pressed yourself closer to him on the metal seat. “You can tell me anything.” He smiled a small, nervous smile, turning his eyes back to his hands and letting his dark curls fall over his face.

“I uh—I practiced at the ring toss for weeks to get it right. Wayne has all these old mugs and uh… well… I would set them out on the table and make little rings out of tinfoil. I think the weight was a little off from the real thing, but…” he looked up at you finally, his big brown eyes rimmed with gold as they caught the glowing light of the setting sun, “I really wanted to get it right for you.”

You were speechless. A thousand sentences started to form in your mind, all of which screamed I love you I love you I love you. But you couldn’t get any of them out. You opted for wrapping your hands around his, hoping the way your fingers intertwined with his said the words that you weren’t able to force from your mouth. They must have, because he just squeezed your hands like he understood and rested his head on top of yours as you tucked yourself against him.

“This is… easy, y’know,” he said after a long moment as the carriage continued to climb toward the top of the wheel. He pulled back to look at you as he stumbled over his words: “Like… I thought it might be awkward or like weird or something, or that I wouldn’t feel like myself. But it just feels normal. Or right. Just easy I guess.”

“Eddie Munson, are you calling me easy?” you clutched at your invisible pearls in mock horror.

“Nononononono – that’s not what I meant at all I—” you cut off his stammering apology with a gentle finger to his lips.

“I know, Eds. I was just teasing,” you assured him. “But I feel the same way. It’s just… nice. You’re right – it just feels easy to be with you like this.” You took a deep breath, closing your eyes for a moment before speaking again: “Now can I tell you a secret?”

“Of course,” he repeated your words from earlier, beaming at you, “you can tell me anything.” You leaned in closely then, your noses almost touching, your quavering voice barely above a whisper.

“I’d really like to kiss you right now.”

You were so close you could hear the breath catch in his throat at your words. His heart had to be racing as fast as yours was, but now your blood was rushing in your ears and all you could hear was the sound of your own fevered heartbeat. You closed your eyes then, afraid you might start seeing spots if you kept them open. Leaning in, you sensed him doing the same. You could feel the warmth radiating from his skin. And then his lips were on yours. Soft. Tentative. Warm. Gentle. And so utterly overwhelming in best way possible. You couldn’t focus on anything but the feeling of his skin against yours, your mind a mess of color and sound – fireworks ignited by the touch of his lips against your own.

Then the whole world lurched, and you snapped back into reality. The carriage had finally made its way to the top of the ferris wheel and had jolted as it reached the highest point. The fairgrounds spread out below you, strings of lights flickering to life as the evening sky faded to a welcoming lavender. The chiming music of the carousel floated up on a slight breeze as you watched the fair light itself up in sparkling bursts of green, blue, yellow, and red. High above the dust and heat and noise, it almost looked like something out of a fairytale.

“Wow, you can see everything from up here,” you breathed, squeezing Eddie’s hands in yours.

“Yeah, you really can,” he agreed. But when you turned back, he wasn’t looking at the scene below – his eyes were only for you. Almost without thinking, you pulled him back in to finish the kiss.

#charlotte writes #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fluff

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ashleyfilm · 4 months ago

Text

Seeing Clearly - Chapter 4. The Wolf

Please leave comments, I'd love to know your thoughts. And if you feel inclined to reblog, that would be so nice.

Chapter Warnings: cursing, smut (masterbation) - Minors - DNI

Characters: Jackson!Joel Miller x F!Reader Plus Size. F!OC was recommended to me since there's a lot of description of her but I'm writing her as You (Reader) so hopefully you can still imagine yourself. Black hair, glasses, tattoos, big body, wears dark clothes, won't stop talking. Joel is tv show Jackson Joel.

Story Summary: Joel just saved your life, begrudgingly. He doesn't know exactly why but he brings you back to Jackson and you ingratiate yourself into his very small circle and his life. This takes place after season 1 of TLOU and season 2 doesn't exist in my brain because no.

Chapter Summary: You are Joel talk a bit more and you figure out what your job is going to be. 1.3K

Thank you to @saradika-graphics for the book line divider. :)

Chapter 1 Here Chapter 2 Here Chapter 3 Here

Chapter 4. The Wolf

It’s been three days since you got to Jackson, and it’s starting to finally feel real. No longer like a fever dream at the end of your life. Tonight is movie night, Jurassic Park, one of your favorite movies, and you’re going with Joel. You wake up on that Friday like a kid on Christmas morning, bouncing down the stairs to the kitchen, but Joel and Ellie are nowhere to be seen. You notice a plate covered in a cloth napkin the color of the sky on a spring day, under it, eggs, bacon and even toast, still relatively warm. You smile to yourself thinking maybe Joel did this, but you think better of yourself and decide it must have been Ellie, it still warms your heart. You’ve only known these people three days and they’ve woven into your soul already. Then, by the coffee pot, you see a mug with a wolf painted on it, one with an owl is washed and sat to dry by the sink. This gesture, you know, is Joels.

One of the few times you two have spoken since you arrived was the other night when you couldn’t sleep. You find Joel downstairs by the fireplace carving another animal for his wooden menagerie, you suppose. You pick up the carving of the light-colored wolf you noticed your first time in the house and say, “Wolves have always been my favorite.” Joel grunts and you take that as a sign to keep going. “They have a pack, they take care of each other, and they howl at the fucking moon, they’re cool.” You put the sculpture back on the mantle and when your eyes find Joel’s he’s looking right at you, no longer cutting into the wood in his hands. The light from the fire dances in his eyes and it feels like a spark igniting something in the quiet. After what feels like an eternity, you say, “Well, I guess I’ll try and get some sleep. Night, Joel.” And you scurry up the steps, while Joel watches the fire, never again to resume his carving that night.

But as you return to your room, you still can’t sleep. Every time you close your eyes you see his face, his eyes, his mouth, his hands. Before you can stop yourself, your unburned hand finds its way into your sleep shorts, grazing the wet material of your underwear. Causing you to moan out loud. Shit. You have to be quiet! You bite your lip to keep your whimpering contained as you push your underwear to the side and truly feel the slick between your legs. You haven’t felt this way in so long. Actually, turned on. Maybe a constant fear of death messes with your libido. You bet there are studies on that from before. But now, oh you are so wet, and it feels so good. You use two fingers to bring your wetness up to your clit and swirl it around. Your head and shoulders lurch forward as the pressure to your nub almost makes you cry out. You bring your other hand up to your mouth and bite into the back of it to keep from making noise as you slip those same two fingers down to your entrance. You’re so soaked that your fingers just slip right into your tight hole. Fuck, did this always feel so good? You close your eyes again and with two fingers deep inside and your thumb rubbing against your clit, you picture him. You picture him pushing you against a wall. Hovering over you. Standing over you while you’re on your knees. You imagine what his thick fingers could do instead of your small ones. And then you imagine his voice, telling you to come for him and that’s all it takes. Your sex squeezes down on your fingers and you bite so hard into the back of your hand you taste blood. As you start to come down and regulate your breathing you hear the door of Joel’s bedroom close loudly. Even though you’re terrified he heard all your whimpers and moans, you’re so relaxed you end up falling asleep with a smile on your face. You almost kind of hope he listened.

You come back to yourself in the kitchen holding the wolf mug thinking about the night before and what it could mean moving forward. If he heard you, maybe he liked it, maybe he’ll want more? You know it’s probably wishful thinking, but you let your mind go there anyway. Today is your first day of work at the library. Joel suggested that since you like books and movies so much, that might be the place best suited for you. Except for the quiet part, since you have such a, quote, “Loud Mouth”. But Jackson’s library didn’t really follow the old rules, you’d come to find out. You get dressed in the clothes Maria gave you and look at yourself in the mirror. A disgusted look on your face as you take in the bright pink polo collared shirt you’re wearing.

There’s a knock on the door and after you answer, Joel opens it but stays standing in the doorway. He gives you a once over in your new clothes and then takes in the look on your face. “You gotta get to work soon, I walked Ellie to school and thought I’d come back for you. What’s with the face?” He asks, his hands on his hips, one knee jutted out. “It’s nothing, it’s fine. Let’s go.” You turn to face him, and he rolls his eyes, what is his deal, ugh. He stops you by putting a hand up, palm facing you, “No, none of that, what is it? Spit it out.” You look down at your shoes knowing this is going to end in you getting told you’re a spoiled brat, but he asked so you explain, “Look, I am really thankful for the clothes, mine were gross and falling apart and it’s really no big deal but,” you pause, “I don’t wear pink. Okay, I wear like black if I can find it or other dark colors, this just makes me feel weird and off. I know it’s stupid and it doesn’t matter in the scheme of things but, yeah so, that’s what’s wrong.”

You’re still looking at your shoes when you hear a snort. Looking up at Joel who’s smiling and trying to keep from laughing. “You asshole, don’t laugh at me,” you pout. Trying to regain his composure Joel says with a chuckle, “I’m sorry, Ash, ha, it’s just, oh god, now that you say it, you do look a little outta place in that pink.” You can’t help it; you start laughing too. And you swat at his arms and chest, and he puts his hands up in defense. “Well, don’t just laugh at me, help me, old man,” you say. Joel, still laughing slightly, responds, “Oh, not you too with the old man thing.” You smile, “Ah, you’re not that old, you’re what 50? I’m 40 so I guess I’m old too.” He finally starts to calm his laughter and catch his breath. “40, huh? I wouldn’t have thought that. I woulda thought 60 maybe,” he says completely deadpan. You squint angrily at him and start to brush past him when he huffs another laugh and grabs your upper arm to stop you next to him in the door frame. You’re so close, and he’s towering over you and his hand on your arm feels like fire. “Stop, there’s a place in town, we’ll go see what we can find for you to wear that isn’t,” he grabs at the hem of your hot pink shirt touching the skin of your belly with his calloused fingers and you think you might melt into a puddle on the floor right in front of him, “this.” His eyes trace from where his finger touches you up your chest to your lips that just happen to be parted and then to your eyes that are wild. He looks at you like he might think you’re beautiful. Before you can think to move or say something or breathe, he’s walking down the stairs and yelling back at you, “Let’s go, you’re gonna be late!”

#ashleyfilm #joel miller plus size reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #joel tlou #the last of us #tlou fanfiction #seeing clearly #joel miller

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fictionalgap · 1 year ago

Text

Steal My Heart

(chapter4)

Pairing: Kit Thantalos x Reader

Summary: Kit makes you a surprise.

Warnings: Swearing, underwater kiss😉😉😉

Chapters: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3

Song Recommendation: Fire on fire - Sam Smith

You and Kit have been riding for two hours. Wherever Kit wanted to visit, It was really close to where your mother stayed.

"Kit, why are we here?" you asked suspiciously.

She stopped in front of your house. You stopped when she stopped.

She got off from the horse and landed on her feet. She approached to you and said "Suprise!" with a giant smile.

Your mouth moved but no words came out. You didn't know how did she knew you lived here but you were happy that she brought you here.

You saw your mum at the door of your house.

"Y/N!" She ran at you with open arms.

You got off from your horse and ran to her. You hugged and Kit watched you from where she stood.

"I wasn't expecting you too soon." your mother said with excitement.

"Should I go back?" you teased her with a smirk.

She playfully hit your shoulder then hugged you tighter. You broke the hug.

You turned to Kit. "This is Ki-, the Princess of Tir Aslee-"

"Your highness." your mum bowed to Kit.

"It's really nice to meet you. Just Kit is enough." she smiled to your mother.

"It is really nice to meet you too, Kit." she smiled then looked at you.

"Don't stand there, come in. " Your mum hurried into your house.

You all walked into the house. You and Kit were sitting in your kitchen. Marlene and kids were out somewhere. Your mum was brewing some tea as you fidgeted with your fingers anxiously.

"Thank you." you said to the girl next to you with a smile. "Don't. I just wanted a break from the castle." she pushed the subject away. A pleased smile obvious on her face.

"How did you know I lived here?" you questioned.

She cleared her throat after she avoided your gaze.

Your mum came with teas and placed them on the table. You both took the cups.

Your mum sat down with a wide smile.

"So, tell me everything."

Kit told her how you saved her life. You told about how Queen forgave your crimes and had a generous job offer for you.

Your mum told Marlene and her kids were great to her. They were able to live well since she was town's healer and made more than enough money. She told you she helped her during she was working and also take care of the kids.

You were grateful Marlene was there for your mother. You knew your mother wanted to give up on doing theft long time ago.

Your father didn't want to. He was a good man but he liked stealing so much it was almost like he needed it.

"Once a thief, always a thief." you remembered his words to your mother after she told him she didn't wanted to do this anymore.

After a couple of hours it was almost evening. "We should get back." you turned to Kit.

Kit nodded and stood up from her seat. You felt her hand brushing yours.

You said your goodbyes then got back on the road to the castle.

"You never answered me." You asked her calmly.

"Hm?" She turned to you.

"How did you know I lived here?"

She sighed nervously.

"You know that while were training your letter fell down. When you went to drink water I read it before I gave it to you." She looked down.

You stopped riding your horse. Your face fell with disappointment. Never in a million years you would think of her as someone like that.

"I know It's not nice to read someone else's p-"

"No. It's not and-" You started to get angry but something stopped you.

Your eyes got bigger when you looked at her direction.

"Kit. Don't move."

Kit's eyes widen with fear and she had the urge just to take a look but she couldn't.

She had a big hairy spider on her shoulder.

You didn't know how the hell she didn't feel that. It looked big and poisonous.

'What is with the Princess Of Tir Asleen and poisonous animals?' you thought to yourself.

She eyed her left and with realization her eyes got wider and she panicked for a second then fell from the horse.

She fell into the mud and now she was covered in it.

"Fuuuuuck!"

You snorted as you ran to her, saving her from the mud and the spider.

Spider was barely in the mud, was already crawling its way out to the clean grass.

You held Kit's hand and helped her up.

"Come on, there is a pond over there."

She groaned as she followed your lead.

She got rid of her outer clothes and you both washed them . You were glad it was Summer. It would dry quickly.

"I am sorry."

You looked at her direction.

"I shouldn't have looked. I just I didn't know why I did it. I - I guess I was curious or I-I don't have any excuse. When It's about you I just want to know more. A-and I guess I got excited."

You knew she was telling the truth.

You nodded to her and to yourself.

She looked at you as she was waiting for an 'I forgive you.'

Instead you stood up and wondered around the pond. She got up from her seat and stood next to you.

She looked in your eyes desperately. "Y/N?"

You stared at her coldly and she frowned at your expression.

Then, all of a sudden, you put your hands on her arms and pushed her to the pond in front of you.

"Wha-" she managed to get out before water splashed around and your giggles filled the woods.

She got up to the surface and swam her way back and got off from the water.

You expected an annoyed look on her face but she was smiling. She came next to you with her arms on her waist.

She bit her lip and nodded to herself. "I deserved it."

You laughed. She smiled as you laughed more.

What you didn't expect was her pushing you into the water.

You found yourself in blue-green pond and you saw her jumping in the water again. She was swimming to your direction. You looked at her with a smile. There was enough light inside the pond. Thanks to the Sun. You could see her clearly.

You saw her looking at you softly. That look melt your heart but also It awoke something inside you. You pulled her to yourself to give a peck to her lips. You looked at her face. It was blank. Than you swam to the surface and took a deep breath. When you saw her coming right after you. You couldn't find the courage to face her.

You took a deep breath and dived into the pond. You decided to wait there as If that was a good solution. You saw her coming down. She had a happy expression on her face as much as someone can when they are holding their breath. She came down to your level.

Then something you never could have guess happened. She held your cheeks with both of your hands and kissed you. You relaxed into the kiss as you felt her not hating this.

Your smile met your eyes as she clinged onto you. You looked at her eyes as she looked at yours. You held her arms but she smiled and pulled you to the surface with her.

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