#seriously this fic is fucking exquisite

[andersonfilms]

i have so many thoughts swarming in my mind at the moment. hopefully i can collect my bearings enough to make sense, even if it is just for a moment. first and foremost, i just want to say how wonderfully articulate this piece of absolutely wonderful fiction is. honest to god, from the very start, the message of it became crystal clear from the very beginning until the end. truthfully, it's something i'm so envious of as a writer but as a reader — it was so exciting to read. in the beginning of it, you did an insightful job of showing where sevika is and where she stands. it's quite wonderful to see how you built it in the beginning. for me, it's really this subtle build up in the introduction that really sells you on where the story is heading. a vision so clear, a canvas so clean, you can almost see your reflection in it. you paint such a lovely picture. still, i'm trying to wrap my head around it. like each stroke, with a flick of the brush, the full portrait comes into view as you try to unfold the meaning of it. it could be because i have a very personal and emotional attachment to the concept of this fic but goddamn did it just reel me in.

this was the first analogy which really stood out to me the most.

the dark chocolate she’s nibbling on is cheap and tastes identical to the plastic wrapper it came in, and the burn of the whiskey is only adding to the bitter taste. but at least it soothes her mind. she sighs, flicks off the television, and heads for the shower. the last thing she wants to be right now is even more wet, but the promising warmth of the water will at least soothe some of the pain in her shoulders.

in the beginning, there's a lot of extremely well done imagery but this really stand out the most to me. whether it's intentional (which it's you ofc it is, you and your brilliant mind i'm actually so very obsessed with it) but i love how you did this one moment. it's such a small detail, maybe even easy to dismiss, but i really enjoyed the pairing of the bitterness of the chocolate versus the burn of the whiskey. with the next sequence that follows, truthfully, it's so cinematic with how it falls in line with what happens next. the world building in the first passage is just something i don't think i have had the pleasure in reading in quite some time. personally, i've been on a book tear and this sliver of imagery is well and intentionally placed, it truly makes me feel inspired, more than these so called novels i've been reading. if anything, i'm just convinced i need an ennabear novel in my hands yesterday. the way you introduce and pace your storylines is truly remarkable. it always leave an everlasting impression on me. even changes the way i would normally think to write something and paints it in a new perspective. dear god, i think this reblog is going to be so astronomically long. hopefully, i'll be able to round out what i'm trying to say by the end of it. #raycore.

“it’s okay,” she coos. “would you like a lollipop?” the kid sniffles at this, but lifts her head up and nods at her. sevika digs into the small bag on her waist, pulling out a bright blue sucker for the little one that matches her hair. she takes it in her small hands and unwraps it, eyes sparkling at the sight of the blue raspberry favored sugar. sevika just hopes her parents don’t kill her. with the kid in her arms— who is now joyfully sucking on the lollipop instead of soaking her in tears and snot— she makes her way downstairs. sevika’s no stranger to lost children, and she’s fond of their company. it’s refreshing to hear them describe colors and patterns in the paintings instead of overanalyzing it and telling stupid facts about the artist. and she loves that she can finally give back to the world, bringing the kiddos comfort like she never received from her own parents.

this entire exchange just had me in a mountain of tears for several reasons. for one, act two of arcane, a reunion that winded me. even in this alternate universe, just one fated meeting, i am floored back into the ruins of act two. another thing i want to point out is how sevika's personality really shines through on the dialogue. she's very decisive when she chooses to speak, low-grunts, soft aggression, and sarcastic remarks laced with a tone of concern, and then when she finally drops everything and it's just her kind, beating heart. definition of could kill you but actually a teddy bear. from the get go, you encapsulate all of it so perfectly. this version of sevika is someone who has been burned but you still this softness to her. an act of kindness to someone who embodies the innocence that only adolescence comes with. but as a pure angst lover the last line stuck out to me the most, bringing the kiddos comfort like she never received from her own parents. it's a very subtle, but meaningful drop and if you blink, you nearly miss it. it's the small little details i fear i gravitate to so much but fuck is it wonderful.

“that she is!” the mother cheers. “god bless you, sevika, seriously. i’ll never be able to repay you.” she smiles proudly, not necessarily because she believes in a god, but she’s just glad to get the kid back and hopefully end the conversation soon. “thank you ma’am. it’s no problem, really. it’s my job.”

enna, you’re a fucking genius.

this is just. fucking hell let me collect my thoughts for a moment. alright. honest to god, no pun intended, the way you slithered the concept of religion in is the smoothest i’ve ever seen. it nearly melts into the pages, ink dispersing on the fine lines. each line melting into the other like butter on a pan. again, i’m such a whore for the details and this is such a huge one. this is fucking art. there’s really no other way to describe it. everything seems so well thought out, executed to perfection. i like that we get to know how she feels without her really even voicing it and from that point and moving forward, it sets the tone. again. world building and storytelling — it really is remarkable in the way you’ve managed to weave this web of craft that’s so honed in on.

as they approach the bottom of the stairs, she makes the tough decision to peek over the stretcher, eyes frantically searching around the spot she was only just standing in. and there she is. that little girl with her bright blue hair, now drenched in red. her lips are still blue from the lollipop, but she’s grown pale and cold. and gone. and sevika couldn’t protect her. before she closes her eyes, she takes in the scene one more time. piles of hair tangled together and skin melted into the floor. she’s seen some pretty outrageous things as a security guard, but never this. tears pour out of her eyes, the pain in her body making her wish she would’ve been taken out too. by what, she doesn’t know. she isn’t aware of where she is or what’s going on, all she knows is the pain in the left side of her body, and it’s all she’ll feel for the rest of her life.

the way you described this scene. please, just rip my heart out and put it through the shredder. it would be far less painful. you are so insane for this. and the tie in to the lollipop into dead, cold blue lips, AS IN A CORPSE. too fucking MUCH. my fucking goodness chat, it’s just too amazing i can’t really even be mad about it honestly. i wasn’t expected my heart to be be stomped on like this. poor baby isha. catching everything but a future. I CANT DO THIS. ITS TOO MUCH. but alas i will and i already have fully read this fic but goddamn. gotta respect the game, the angst is too cold, literally. also, i want to note the raw emotion sevika is exhibiting. truly, the way your write sevika is truly refreshing. i keep making canvas metaphors but it feels like you're painting her and as the depth of the story grows so does she, slowly coming out of the canvas until she comes to life. she becomes something really and tangible and it's through the emotinal lense you've chosen to write her in and it really is such a brilliant choice. your writing is shining so bright with this one. truly, i really admire it.

“sevika, don’t worry.” you assure her. “i’ll help you believe.” and the line goes quiet.

honorable mention, i just really enjoy the foreshadowing in this. i also think it's a really good representation of overzealous evangelicials even and how they recruit and almost the kind of desperation that goes with corruput intentions within religion. not that i directly has anything to do with this line, but it took my mind there. maybe it was just my trauma fucking kicking in and i'm getting flashbacks but the weight in this line is fucking destroying me personally.

no matter what you do, you can’t get this woman off of your mind. something about her makes you feel different than how other people make you feel, but you can’t tell what it is or why. you need a plan. you need to talk to her again. or at least some confidence would be handy. but instead of dwelling on it, you decide to go for a walk. the walk doesn’t really work though, it actually does the opposite of clearing your mind. you have nothing to focus on, no work to do, so you just think. your mind runs wild the whole time. you’re so intrigued, so excited yet nervous, you feel like it’s almost a craving. almost, because you’re not really sure what a craving is. not until you meet her, at least.

the gay awakenineneneningggggggg. it's fucking brewing! i don't know if i can even remember mine but this reallt reminds of just having a crush on a girl for the first time, it feel entirely different than anything has ever felt. as someone who figured it out later in life, THIS HITS FUCKING HARD. it's like your entire world is changing. your entire life you have looked through life in one lense but then someone comes along distorts your view. you really encapsulates that feeling, that expierence really well in the plants of doubt in this. truly, it's so beautiful.

huh. sevika at a liquor shop. not necessarily unusual for a person, but forbidden for you. you wonder if this is a ritual for her, if she’s gonna go home and get drunk or something, or maybe if she’s gonna split the bottle with some friends. does she even have friends? you turn around and head in the same direction she does, hoping your paths cross before her quick, long strides can leave you behind. and you eventually catch up to her, pretending you had no idea you’d run into her, you greet her with a “oh, sevika! hey, i didn’t expect to see you here.” except, you did expect to see her here. you already spied her storming out of the liquor store. ugh, you’re such a bad liar. “oh… hi.” she mumbles, a little disturbed by your sudden appearance, and already burnt out from the two people who’ve made small talk with her in the past hour. while you stand in front of her, she raises her eyebrow slightly as if to signal that she’s waiting for you to say something before she walks away.

the chasing!!!! the yearning!!!!! having a crush on a beautiful women and chasing her!!!!! yep, that's the fucking stuff. but also it shows the depravity and loneliness sevika is feeling and ptsd she’s feeling from the events. how her brain is processing the trauma she’s been through. i love that reader just sought sevika out, the pure curiosity hovering inside their head. god, this oc is really just perfect in the way you’ve crafted them.

when she told you, she couldn’t help but break down in heavy sobs. you could feel your heart shatter at this— the story and sevika’s reaction to it. you scrambled from your side of the booth to hers, scooting in next to her and wrapping her up in a hug as she cried. to your surprise, she hugged you back. she hooked her chin over your shoulder, grabbed you tightly in her strong arms, and just let herself go.

oh, this is everything. the raw emotion, the vulnerability, the trust — it’s so genuine it nearly has me crying. the first time you open up to someone, it’s a level of intimacy that can’t quite be matched. once the boundary is crossed, there really isn’t an option to come back from that. it’s a soft comfort, one that feels like a warm blanket you’ve been yearning for all your life. fuck, i love this so bad.

today you’re feeling particularly bold for some reason, you suspect it might be because of your friendship with sevika, but this feels different. well, you know how it feels, but you’re scared to admit it. although you’ll probably be fine, you’re hesitant to say it to yourself out of the fear that you’ll be thrown out of the church. yes, you like sevika, and sure, she is a beautiful woman. but you just can’t bring yourself to say it. to say that you have a real crush on her. to admit that you want her. so instead of saying anything, you use your actions instead. glancing over both of your shoulders, you make sure that nobody important is looking in your direction before you snake your hand forward and wrap your hand around sevika’s. this action is the farthest you’ve ever gone with anyone, and your cheeks are practically on fire with how hard you’re blushing. you wouldn’t be surprised if the whole building could hear your heartbeat right now. sevika adjusts her fingers so that she’s gripping your hand firmly, and you feel so… dirty, almost. you know that this is nothing, but you’re scared and ashamed of what other people might think. but although it initially feels wrong, you settle down when you realize that nobody’s looking— even more that nobody cares— and it feels so right. her hands are surprisingly warm and soft, they feel so welcoming and familiar against yours.

this section is literally making me so insane !!!!! in the best way possible. just another great example of how you’ve been able to really capture what it means to be a disciple of the faith but to feel wrong but it doesn’t. it was never wrong, it was always right. even if the church or your faith has told you to burn for it. anyone with religious trauma has felt this way and fuck, you literally just took my feelings out of my head and put them on paper. there’s nothing more remarkable than your ability make every emotion accessible in such a beautiful form. one that feels very real. i truly love it so much.

you looked up at her from your position on your knees, her torso looking impossibly longer than usual. something comes over you, something that warms up your stomach until you feel so dizzy you feel the need to reach for something to steady yourself. unaware of just how much trouble this would get you in, you end up grabbing for her upper thighs. they’re so thick that your hands are almost completely flat, but they’re sturdy. perfect for grabbing onto.

OKAYDJEDJEIFJCECFMJEUIF THIS FUCKING PART. THIS SHIT. THIS SHIT RIGHT HERE. ON YOUR KNEES LIKE SEVIKA IS YOUR ALTER. THIS IS TOO MUCH. TEWWWW MUCH. okay, let me calm down, just a little. but really. really, really, really — this itched my brain in such a lovely way. i will not be able to get over it ever. i'm pretty sure. the imagery, AGAIN. everything is so entirely connected. the flow of this fic is just insane. i'm seriously in awe. i've read this fic four times already. dw, it will be up to ten by the end of the week. #trust.

sevika studies your words in her mind, hoping that you’d still mean them if you could see the thoughts running wild in her mind right now. she inches closer to you and her nose almost brushes yours. the tension in the room makes her squirm, thighs pressing together in an attempt to soothe the ache between them. somehow, in some strange way, this feels better than sex. better than anything she’s ever smoked, any liquid she could get drunk on. you are her intoxicant. her stronger substance. her higher power. her breath of fresh air in this humid town. you are what she’s been searching for.

her higher power.

this line just fucking crushed me into pieces. i don't think you understand!!!!!! it's crossing the line of my religion vs her. discipleship vs love. it's a choice that no one should ever have to make. love is love. there's not a high power that should hold over the feelings we can't explain, it's just something we feel. something we can never be rid of. something we can't live without. i also love the parallel of reader being the greater vice than sevika's addiciton. you're more than the vices she's using to cope. you are more than just someone for her to get lost in. it's soft and gentle, and mesmirizing. it's inexplainable. it's love. it's truly such a beautiful perspective because it also undoes the idea, by the bigots, that we can choose who we love because we can't. it's not up to choice, reason, and it certainly doesn't offer us grace. love is ruthless, merciless, and often cruel but it can also be the best thing that's happened to us. okay i'm ranting so fucking bad but that line really shook me and i'm going to be thinking about it for the next five business years.

she shuffles under you as she slides her boxers off, and you almost drool at the sight of her bush. it’s just so… beautiful. and intimate. she pats your hips as a signal to scoot off of her, and she spreads her legs before manhandling you to sit your cunt on top of hers. as soon as you connect your cunt with hers, you swear you black out. it all feels so good. she keeps spreading her legs wider to help you get a better angle against her clit, and you can feel it throbbing against yours. you thought holding her hand was intimate, but this is so much more than you could’ve imagined. “fuck, sevika.” you moan, tears crashing over you again and dripping onto her cheeks now. “you’re so beautiful.”

okay. okay. okay. i’m going in sane with love for this. so fucking bad. it’s not even a joke anymore. loving and intimate sensual smut is always gonna fucking do it for me. literally. the beauty of being with a woman for the first time. not being able to control yourself on the uncontrollable wave. it will drown you if you’re not careful and it’s almost tragic. it’s haunting. it’s unexplainable. it’s love. leaving one belief to let yourself drown in what you’ve been told is a sin. it’s the foundation of finding faith in something tangible, something that offers and doesn’t take. god, this is really so fucking good. really perfect from top to bottom. the heartbeat of this story is so strong and i loved every moment of it. you never disappoint. banger, after banger, after banger.

this is truly one of the most introspective fics doing religious trauma and the fight between sexuality and faith so beautifully and respectfully. in the sly details, it really shows the inner battle between the consumption of addiction and how it can derail our lives, how through addiction we can never get through it alone, and also the guilt that comes with picking who we are over who we've been told to be. all of this is truly such a stunner and i don't think i 've read a piece of fiction laced with so much meaning in a while. it's so entirely refreshing. it has really reworked my brain in a way i haven't been able to explain. this is the second night i've been ranting in this outrageously long reblog, my goodness, can't writing anything short to save my life, but this deserved every ounce of love. truly exceptional, enna.

✞︎ ︎YOUR OWN PERSONAL JESUS.

SOMEONE TO HEAR YOUR PRAYERS. SOMEONE WHO CARES.

cw: religious!reader x sevika, inspo from personal jesus by depeche mode, dark themes [drinking addiction, religious crisis, trauma/ptsd, etc.], a mention of isha because i’m evil, as well as religious themes, nasty sloppy dirty sinful dyke sex [body worship + tribbing] 18+ 🧛🏿

word count: 14.1k

i. FEELING UNKNOWN AND YOU’RE ALL ALONE

sad, dull, gray, gloomy, what else could she use to describe it? constant rain, a chronic form of seasonal depression that lingered in the air no matter where she went. her therapist prescribed her some fresh air, but the air is never fresh here. it’s thick with fog, the humidity weighs down on your shoulders and makes it unbearable to trudge through. sure, the sun shines, but it never peeks out from behind the clouds, leaving the town in a dark, unsaturated gleam.

she crosses the threshold into her apartment, hair clinging to the back of her neck and the sides of her face due to a mix of humidity and sweat. her apartment might be more vapid than the outside world, it’s a small box that overlooks the parking lot and a few 24 hour diners across the street. the walls are all white, along with the ceiling and cabinets, and the carpet is scratchy and gray. she hardly has any furniture, a small couch with a tv propped up on a cardboard box facing it. no coffee table, chairs, or shelves, but she doesn’t spend much time out here anyways.

her ribs start to ache, and the growing hunger in her stomach only makes it worse. she scours her cupboards for a snack, and settles for half a bar of dark chocolate and a glass of whiskey. the couch is small and hard and it barely offers any comfort to her tired body. on the tv, the meteorologist blabbers away about the predicted weather for the week. she feels bad for him, the poor guy probably wanted a bigger and better job than this. foreseeing the same weather for 365 days straight. cold, cloudy, wet, maybe snow if we get lucky.

the dark chocolate she’s nibbling on is cheap and tastes identical to the plastic wrapper it came in, and the burn of the whiskey is only adding to the bitter taste. but at least it soothes her mind. she sighs, flicks off the television, and heads for the shower. the last thing she wants to be right now is even more wet, but the promising warmth of the water will at least soothe some of the pain in her shoulders.

a bone-chilling squeak rings out through the bathroom as she twists the faucet on, and the light flickers as if in response to the noise. sevika peels her clothes off, her sweatpants dropping to the floor and her shirt still trying to hang on to her body. her ribs are more prominent than they’ve ever been, and she can see her muscles slowly starting to wither away with how frequently she skips the gym.

steam fills the room, the foggy clouds of it wisp around her as she studies herself until she can’t see her reflection anymore. it’s all blurry— her reflection, the walls, her own hands in front of her face. her left arm has the deepest and darkest scars she’s ever seen, most of them are jagged from the way her stitches were inserted. she can hardly stand to look at herself anymore, so maybe it’s a good thing the mirror is fogged up.

in the shower she only washes herself for a quick second, rubbing a thin layer of soap all over her body and scrubbing her scalp with shampoo. she debates on adding conditioner, but she feels as if she’ll faint if she’s in the shower for another second. the hot water quickly runs out, and sevika only notices how scorching her water was when it switches over to room temperature.

as soon as she steps out of the shower, she wraps herself up in her towel, although there’s not really a point in that due to the holes and strings coming off of it. she makes a mental note to buy more towels, and just as she’s about to mope about another purchase to make, her phone blares an alarm warning her not to be late to her physical therapy appointment.

stumbling out of the bathroom, she trudges half nude to her liquor cabinet, aimlessly grabbing around for something strong. she pours herself a shot, and then another, and fuck, why not a third one? she doesn’t notice the burn as it goes down, her mind instead focusing on the ache in her left shoulder.

she pulls a shirt over her head and shoves her shoes on, finalizing her outfit with her black raincoat. she wears it nearly every day, partially because it’s always cold and rainy, and partially because it’s a good excuse to hide the thick scars that travel all the way up her body. her spine starts to ache as she walks to the clinic, but she doesn’t have money for a car, and she doesn’t know anybody in this town well enough to ask them for a ride.

the receptionist at the clinic doesn’t look up one single time as sevika checks in, and sevika wishes so badly that she could get paid to sit down and look at a computer all day. she takes a seat in the waiting room, slumping back and relaxing her muscles as she waits for her PT to invite her in. the clock on the wall ticks extremely loudly, she notices, but she decides to close her eyes and count the ticks until it’s finally her turn.

ii. FLESH AND BONE BY THE TELEPHONE

static muffles through her radio. she flicks the ashes of her cigarette out onto the pavement, watching as a pigeon across the street skitters around. another few crackles through her walkie talkie go ignored. it’s her break for fucks sake, and she’s only just starting to enjoy it.

“sevika?” her radio booms. she sighs, rolling her eyes and waiting for someone else to respond.

“sevika, we need you inside. your break is over.”

“my break is what? over.” she responds, giggling at her own smartass response.

“your break is over, god damn it. over.”

“roger.” she says, a hint of a smile still in her voice. “i’ll be inside in a second. over.”

she pulls her phone out of her pocket, double checking the new code for the security door. after punching it in, she swings the door open until it bolts shut behind her, and then makes her way to the lobby. the museum is huge, the lobby has floors that sparkle and shine no matter how many muddy shoes cross over them, and the rest of the stories are complete with floor to ceiling windows that are taller than she ever could’ve imagined.

as she crosses through a giant stone archway, her boss nods and waves her over. one of her coworkers is there too, both of them looking stern and serious. she steps into the small circle they’ve formed, lifting her eyebrows quizzically at the two of them. “well?” she asks. “what do you need?”

“what do i need? what i fuckin’ need from both of you is for you to do your fuckin’ jobs.” he spits, literally. droplets of his saliva collect in his beard as he digs into sevika and her coworker about ‘not doing their jobs.’

“what do you mean by that, sir?” her coworker asks.

“do you know how many people i’ve seen walk out of here with souvenirs stuffed into their pockets? that gift shop is gonna be desecrated by the end of the day.”

“respectfully, sir, we aren’t in charge of the gift shop. we only monitor the grounds of the museum, and you’re the one who hired us both to do that.” she says back.

“then go do ya fuckin’ job.” he growls, his thick boston accent shining through his attempt at a serious lecture.

she raises her eyebrows and turns around with her tongue in her cheek, heading up the large marble stairs. sevika can’t argue with that, and she loves her job. it’s easy— all she has to do is puff her chest to intimidate her guests, hand out lollipops to the little ones who are brave enough to wave at her, and occasionally answer a question about directions around the place. all of her coworkers love her, and she’s never felt more secure in her life before.

ascending the stairs, she eyes a beautiful young woman with blazing orange hair wandering into the gift shop and a smile on her face. that’s not the type of person who’d steal, she thinks, and she’s probably right. concealing her eyes are a pair of black sunglasses, and she’s finally thankful they’re part of her uniform now that she’s got direct sunlight hitting every corner of the second floor.

she inserts her earpiece into the side of her head, prepared although not excited to listen to her coworkers chat and complain for the rest of the day. she flicks around until she connects to the private channel, and then continues to stroll around the second floor.

people of all ages wander through the halls. kids being scolded by their parents, awkward adults grasping clammy hands on their first date, seniors leaning on their walkers and canes as they reminisce about famous painters. the community is so beautiful, so important to her, she’d do anything to protect it. this place is like her second home, and she’s made some of the best friends of her life here. not to mention the fact that it’s taken her years to memorize her way around the place, so now it’s even more special to her.

she steps toward the large windows, feeling the warm sun prickle her skin as it sparkles through the leaves of the trees. the muffled sound of laughing families combined with the sight of her people paints a smile on her face, and she closes her eyes and loses herself in this divine moment until she feels something tug on the bottom of her vest.

“yes?” she asks, turning around and smiling down at the kid. her bottom lip quivers and her eyes fill with tears, she makes a mental note that she can’t be any older than six years of age.

“i—” she starts, attempting to blink back tears and inevitably failing. “mmmph!!”

sevika crouches down and wipes the girl’s tears away with her thumbs, ruffling the kid’s fluffy blue hair. “don’t worry, kiddo.” she assures her, “what’s wrong? oh, lemme guess— lost your parents?” the kid nods and sobs some more, attempting to hide her face in her hands.

she scoops her up in her arms, letting her sob into her shoulder. “ughffff!!!!” she pouts, squirming in sevika’s hold. she takes a guess that the kid is either really shy or just mute.

“it’s okay,” she coos. “would you like a lollipop?” the kid sniffles at this, but lifts her head up and nods at her. sevika digs into the small bag on her waist, pulling out a bright blue sucker for the little one that matches her hair. she takes it in her small hands and unwraps it, eyes sparkling at the sight of the blue raspberry favored sugar. sevika just hopes her parents don’t kill her.

with the kid in her arms— who is now joyfully sucking on the lollipop instead of soaking her in tears and snot— she makes her way downstairs. sevika’s no stranger to lost children, and she’s fond of their company. it’s refreshing to hear them describe colors and patterns in the paintings instead of overanalyzing it and telling stupid facts about the artist. and she loves that she can finally give back to the world, bringing the kiddos comfort like she never received from her own parents.

“radio check.” her earpiece says, slightly catching her off guard.

“go ahead.” her teammates all say, mutually praying their boss isn’t about to go on another two hour long rant in their private channel.

“keep your eyes peeled for a little kid with a full head of bright blue hair,” her boss says into her earpiece. “apparently her names isha and she’s five. parents lost her on the second floor and they’re worried.”

sevika looks down at the kid, unnecessarily double checking that her head is painted with blue hair dye. “i’ve got her.” she says. “we’re making our way to the lobby. 10-20?”

“lobby, meet you there soon. over and out.”

“isha!!” her mother shrieks as soon as sevika lands on the bottom step. “oh my sweet ishabear! i thought we’d lost you forever.”

isha’s dad shoots sevika a look that seems to say ‘sorry about her’, but she smiles and hands the kid over. “what’s your name?” her mom asks frantically. just as she’s about to respond, her boss speaks up and whacks her on the back with a proud slap.

“this is sevika. best security in the whole building, ain’t she?” he says, reaching out to pinch her cheek. sevika tries her absolute best to hold back, but she can’t stop a harsh glare from forming on her face as her boss pokes and prods at her like she’s a doll. she clears her throat and shoves him off, but resumes a smile for the parents staring at her.

“that she is!” the mother cheers. “god bless you, sevika, seriously. i’ll never be able to repay you.”

she smiles proudly, not necessarily because she believes in a god, but she’s just glad to get the kid back and hopefully end the conversation soon. “thank you ma’am. it’s no problem, really. it’s my job.”

“it is your job!” her boss exclaims. “and she’s gonna get right back to it.”

before turning away, she gives isha a smile and an explosive fist bump, smiling at the adorable little cub and then parting. her boss is probably the only downside of her job. words can’t explain how much she hates that guy— even hate isn’t a strong enough word. but she ignores it, pushing her hatred to the back of her mind and attempting to continue with her good day.

until an ear piercing scream is let out at the front of the building, and she’s knocked out before she can turn around to investigate.

——

“shit, how many are still in the building?”

“i dunno, man! there are people fuckin’ everywhere.”

“sevika? can you hear me? … sevika, you need to get out of there now.”

groggily, she peels her heavy eyes open and looks around. the scent of pennies fills her nose, a metallic smell so strong it nearly knocks her out again. before she feels like she can hit the floor, her body jerks forward and she sucks in a gasp before she realizes she’s already laying on the marbled ground.

“sevika…?”

“leave it alone, for gods sake, we need to get people out of here!”

her left arm was laying oddly and uncomfortably behind her, and her whole body was absolutely aching. she leans forward and chokes out some blood before looking at the scene before her. windows shattered and glass glistening on the floor, reflecting the light that shines off of the mini fires lit all around. there are people everywhere— or at least the remains of them. shoes and purses and walkers left behind, the suffocating scent of blood and charred flesh, and the sound of sirens blaring all around her.

she tries to breathe, but it seems impossible. her lungs won’t fill with air no matter how many times she gasps, and that number is burgeoning with the way she’s hyperventilating. hot, salty tears prickle her eyes involuntarily, but she blinks them away, too shocked to feel any emotions yet. she groans into the floor as a sharp pain shoots through her body, and the thrashing caused by that pain only makes her feel worse.

deep red and sticky, her blood pools around her. it leaks out of her left arm, which takes her a while to recognize as hers because of the way her elbow is inverted. she recognizes cries of children and shrieks of pain, which is a harsh contrast of the peaceful atmosphere earlier. how much earlier? how long has she been knocked out? and why is she on the floor?

after an eternity, two men in heavy jackets lift her onto a stretcher. she’s facing up this time, and now she can get a good look at the walls around her. they’re crumbling and splattered with blood, world famous paintings that were once hanging from them are now completely destroyed. either torn up or burnt to a crisp.

as they approach the bottom of the stairs, she makes the tough decision to peek over the stretcher, eyes frantically searching around the spot she was only just standing in. and there she is. that little girl with her bright blue hair, now drenched in red. her lips are still blue from the lollipop, but she’s grown pale and cold. and gone. and sevika couldn’t protect her.

before she closes her eyes, she takes in the scene one more time. piles of hair tangled together and skin melted into the floor. she’s seen some pretty outrageous things as a security guard, but never this. tears pour out of her eyes, the pain in her body making her wish she would’ve been taken out too. by what, she doesn’t know. she isn’t aware of where she is or what’s going on, all she knows is the pain in the left side of her body, and it’s all she’ll feel for the rest of her life.

iii. LIFT UP THE RECEIVER, I’LL MAKE YOU A BELIEVER

“sevika…?”

she blinks awake with a gasp, eyes wide as she takes in her surroundings. children’s toys litter the floor, flyers and posters on the wall, bright white lights beaming down on her— and her physical therapist standing about 2 feet away from her. sevika grumbles in embarrassment, trying to shake off her sleepiness as quickly as possible.

her therapist offers a sympathetic smile before waving her back. sevika curses those waiting room chairs for being so comfortable, or maybe it’s just because she doesn’t get much shut eye at home. her back is so weak and achy that she feels as if she’ll snap under the weight of gravity, but she tries to play it cool in front of her poor doctor. she’s already embarrassed herself enough today, she won’t let herself collapse in pain on the floor of the office.

“nice to see you again, sevika.” her PT smiles, “how’ve you been?”

how has she been? what a long list she could go down. first of all, she’s in so much physical pain she can barely sit upright without passing out. next, she hasn’t been sleeping well due to her night terrors, and she’s waken up soaked in sweat and shivering more often than not. finally, if this list has to end anywhere, she feels jealous. of the happy families she sees every day, of the kids with friends, of the adults with well paying jobs.

“i’ve been… surviving.” she says, purposefully ignoring the plethora of problems she has. this is physical therapy, she reminds herself. not the damn loony bin. get ahold of yourself.

“well, surviving is a great start.” her therapist says with a faux smile. “how has the pain in your shoulders felt since i last saw you? better? worse?” and with that, her voice trails off into the distance with sevika zoning out.

her poor arm gets bent in every single direction you can think of, even ones it’s not supposed to. she bites back her screams of agony and replaces them with little pained growls and whimpers. every time her arm gets bent slightly behind her, a shock of pure pain shoots through her spine and leaves her a shivering mess. the pain within her feels electric, like she’s about to burst into flames or something. it’s the worst thing she’s ever felt.

the tears in her eyes threaten to spill more than ever, but by some miracle she manages to hold them back. until she gets back to her apartment, at least.

as soon as she steps through the front door, she makes a beeline for her bedroom. burying her face in her pillow, she lets it all out. her pained scream is barely muffled by the pillow, but she continues to scream until her throat feels like sandpaper and she realizes that she can’t breathe.

gasping for air, she flops over. her vision is spotted and blurry from a mix of tears, pain, and exhaustion. she stares at her ceiling and cries while she chokes on her own staggered breaths, and she barely registers that someone’s knocking on her door until she hears her name called through it.

“sevika? are you alright, hon?” is followed by another few pounds on her door. she doesn’t want her anyone to call the cops, so she slowly and reluctantly rises from bed, grabbing onto her door frame to steady herself.

it’s her neighbor. curse these walls for being too thin.

sevika groans and rolls her eyes before opening the door, trying her best to plant an indifferent look on her face although it looks more like a pout. the old woman smiles up at her, glad to see that she’s alive after that screaming, but sevika can’t return the smile.

“what’s wrong? did something happen?” her neighbor asks.

“nothing’s wrong.” sevika grumbles, lying through her teeth.

“i know that’s not true honeybun, your eyes are bright red and your cheeks are wet with tears.” her neighbor coos. sevika thinks it’s annoying. she doesn’t want anyone’s sympathy.

“i’m alright, thank you.” she says sternly, although her neighbor keeps pushing.

“may i come in?”

sevika doesn’t answer, instead watching as the old lady walks past her and plants herself on sevika’s couch. “come chat with me.” she invites with a warm, grandmotherly smile.

“i’m not in the mood for chatting.” sevika glares.

“oh, dear,” her neighbor chuckles to herself. “i’m afraid i’m too mature to have you groan at me like a teenager. come sit.”

sevika comes up with another response, but it’s not a very friendly one. the angel on her shoulder tells her not to say it, that the poor woman is just trying to help, that sevika’s already been so much of a bother that she should just shut her mouth. but the devil on her shoulder is fed up right now, and sevika always favors the devil.

“i’m afraid you’re not an ounce as mature as i am. you haven’t been through what i have, and you have no place to tell me what to do in my own fucking apartment.” but sevika does listen to the lady, because she takes a seat right next to her on the couch.

her neighbor ignores her emotional outburst and instead asks “are you hungry?”

“no.” sevika scowls.

“tired?”

“exhausted.”

“sad? lonely? you’d do good with a pet around here. or a few plants. i can grow you a—”

“no thanks. i don’t need a… plant. or an animal.” sevika spits.

“hmm. you live a sad life, don’t you. i wonder what you were like before you came here.” her neighbor sighed.

“i don’t owe you an explanation. that’s private.”

“sevika, you can talk to me if you need to. i’m only one door down the hall, retired, it’s just me and my cats. i’ll always be available if you need something.”

“i don’t need anything.” sevika rolls her eyes. “much less your pity.”

“okay, fine then. if you won’t let me help you, i’ll make someone else help you.”

she reaches into her pocket and digs through her wallet, pulling out a thin paper card and handing it over to sevika. “come with me tomorrow. it’d do you wonders.”

“to… church? no thanks, i’ll pa—”

“okay, great. i’ll see you tomorrow morning then.” her neighbor says, rising and making her way to the door.

“i didn’t say i’d come.”

“i’ll pick you up at eight. better set an alarm.”

“i didn’t agree to co—” and sevika gets cut off by the slam of her own door before she can finish her sentence. whatever, when tomorrow rolls around she’ll just ignore her neighbor, pretending to be asleep or something.

she leans back on her couch, staring at the ceiling and wishing she had a pillow to grip onto, to scream into. another thing to add to the list. she stares at the ceiling instead, balling her hands up into fists as rage turns into sadness and sadness turns back into exhaustion.

it takes everything in her not to crawl to bed, but she stands and walks herself eventually. her shoulders sag and her torso slumps forward as she takes one step at a time, her posture making her about 4 inches shorter than she really is. her bed cradles her weight though, and she sighs into her cold, wet pillow once the tension in her body is released. it’s the best feeling ever. and before she knows it, her eyes are shutting, mind going back to that deep, dark memory.

——

7:30am rolls around, and sevika curses herself for waking up this early. now she’ll have to pretend to be asleep in front of her neighbor, and she’s not a good actress. she rolls out of bed, dragging herself to the bathroom to get her day started. she tries to avoid the mirror, but it’s impossible.

she stares at herself for a while, the uncomfortable feeling of someone else looking back at her creeps up on her. she doesn’t look like herself, she doesn’t look like sevika. she looks sick, tired, hurt, starving. the thought of food makes her stomach twist, she hasn’t eaten anything real in over a full day. maybe she should go easy on her neighbor and ask for a home-cooked meal. maybe.

her hair is fluffy and frayed at the ends, and her roots feel eternally greasy. her depression is so bad, she either showers daily in an attempt to scrub the hallucinated blood off, or she won’t shower for weeks. it’s like she can never win the battle.

a knock at the door disrupts her thoughts. “sevika?”

a groan involuntarily escapes her as she silently opens the bathroom door and creeps out into the living room. “sevika, wake up, it’s almost eight.”

she freezes, praying that her movements on top of her creaky floorboards go unobserved.

“sevika, dear, i can hear you on the other side of the door. you’re not fooling anyone.”

fuck. she’s not getting out of this, is she.

with another groan, she opens the door and sighs. the old lady smiles up at her, dressed in some sort of church attire. “grab a coat,” she says. “it’s chilly out.”

what else does sevika have to do, other than follow the orders? she’s trapped now. following this sweet old woman to church on a sunday. something she never thought she’d do. but she yanks a jacket over her shoulders and shoves her shoes on, not bothering to lock the door behind her. she claims she has nothing to lose in there, but that’s just because she lost her own apartment key a while ago.

she almost smiles when her neighbor shoves her into her car. almost. but she’s not exactly capable of that anymore. it’s so luxurious. she has a heater and a radio and a seat. it’s almost like she’s in a spaceship, marveling at all of these features that would make her life so much easier.

her excitement reaches it’s end as they pull into the parking lot of the building, and that pit in her stomach returns as she climbs out of the small car. if her legs worked a fraction of how well they used to, she’d run so far away from this place.

everything about it is repelling her. the building is huge, bright, colorful, everything she’s seen in her recurring nightmares. it smells like dust and coffee, children’s art line the walls, along with some more formal paintings and portraits. the ceiling seems to be made of glass— the kind that shatters easily and can slice your hands up.

the windows are colored with stained glass that portray different scenes. people made of bright colors dance and pose and feast all around them, their dazzling figures being illuminated by the white sunlight shining through the windows. it’s the kind of beauty she was attracted to years ago, the kind that nearly got her killed.

“sevika, come sit with me.” her neighbor says, derailing her train of thought. she practically has to drag sevika over to the pews as she stares at the buildings interior, feelings of fear and comfort flooding through her veins and stunning her.

she’s too busy taking in her surroundings to realize that the service has started, and she’s quickly reminded of how much she hates places like this. a large, beautiful room full of people. a community. something bad could happen at any moment, and she’d be in no shape to help any of them.

small droplets of blood fill her mouth one at a time as she anxiously chews on her bottom lip. she knows it’s a bad habit, but it’s oddly comforting. the metallic taste is just a reminder that she’s still alive, that the blood is still inside of her body instead of splattered across the floor. gross, ugh, don’t think of that.

in an attempt to tune out the preacher’s sermon, she decides to study the people around her. it’s a harsh reminder of past events, she swears she can almost recognize the faces of the dead bodies in them. all ages, young and old. parents cradling their newborn babies, seniors admiring their lover’s white hair, kids swinging their feet out in front of them in an attempt to stay occupied.

she tries to push these morbid thoughts away from her brain, but it’s not easy. it’s her minds default, it’s why she hasn’t stepped foot in any sort of large building in years. by some miracle, she’s survived a bombing once, how on earth could she do it again?

but to her luck, the ceremony is over before she knows it, and she’s about to escape before her neighbor yanks her back by the collar of her jacket. she pouts, rolls her eyes, and turns around to face her.

“meet my neighbor, sevika. this is her first time joining us.”

“nice to meet you, sevika.” and the man sticks his arm out to sevika, awaiting a returned hand shake. she doesn’t return it though, and she doesn’t even look at him. instead she just stares at the floor and says “yeah… thanks…”

her neighbor nudges her shoulder for being rude, but she doesn’t owe anyone anything. she doesn’t know if the man who tried to shake her hand is same guy who’s been blabbering on this whole time, but if it is, she doesn’t want anything to do with him.

“sevika, what the hell was that? i didn’t bring you here to be rude, i brought you here to learn something.”

sevika scoffs with a fake laugh, “i don’t need you to parent me.”

“then stop acting like a kid, let’s go meet more people.”

how was she gonna get out of this? oh well, in only a few hours she’ll be home again, resting and recharging in bed under the covers. she follows behind her neighbor like a lost puppy, not even looking in front of her, just staring down and making sure that she’s following the correct pair of shoes.

you greet sevika’s neighbor warmly, she’s a familiar face you’re always glad to see. sevika’s figure almost startles you when you peek up, almost. but you get yourself under control, asking the sweet older woman “who’s this?”

“this is sevika, my neighbor. it’s her first time joining us today.”

“oh! nice to meet you, sevika.” you smile, keeping your hands to yourself. sevika doesn’t know what to think of you, you’re so… different from everyone else here. you’re not dressed like everyone else, you look more like sevika than you do the others. but she wouldn’t expect someone like you to work at a church, would she? god, how the world has changed.

“nice to meet you.” she says, not bothering to attempt a weak smile, but giving a cordial nod in your direction anyways.

“we hope to see you around here soon. if you need anything, you know where to find me. although, you look like you’re in good hands.” you offer, giving sevika’s neighbor a friendly pat on the shoulder. sevika watches you walk off, wishing she could dissect you a little more. but she doesn’t hesitate to exit the building when her neighbor declares that it’s time to leave.

“are you hungry?” her neighbor asks once they’re in the car.

sevika’s mouth speaks before she can stop herself, “yes. starving.”

“good, you’ll come over for brunch. that wasn’t a question, by the way.” she smiles.

sevika rolls her eyes and almost smiles back. almost. but the ache in her lower back is making it hard to be happy in this moment.

her neighbor’s apartment is quite grandmotherly, to put it nicely. she has two cats— a black ball of fluff named “fluffy” and a skinny, all white cat named “snowy”, both of which were named by her grandchildren. there are plants and paintings and handmade quilts littering her place, every one of them having a story behind it. it’s cute, sure, but a little bit too maximalist for sevika’s enjoyment. at least she has furniture. good quality furniture.

a steaming teacup is placed in front of her seat at the counter, and both of the cats jump up to check it out. in all honesty, sevika thinks it’s kinda gross to live with animals. she doesn’t know where the hell those cats paws have been, and if it were up to her they wouldn’t be on the kitchen counter.

the cats waddle over to sevika, getting too close to comfort in an attempt to investigate the strange woman sitting at their counter. once she’s deemed safe, they raise their backs and point their tails up as if to ask for pets, but sevika scowls and awkwardly scoots away from the strange animals.

“not a cat person?” her neighbor laughs.

“no… not an animal person in general, really.”

“they’re sweet. give ‘em a pet.”

“no thanks…”

“fine. but you better eat up before they eat it for you.” her neighbor says, shoving a tall stack of pancakes in front of sevika. it’s a heavenly sight, and she almost feels bad for eating it instead of staring at the masterpiece for a while longer.

but that hungry pit in her stomach only grows and shoves itself against her stomach, so she has no choice to dig in. not that she’s complaining, and they taste absolutely divine. she grows uncomfortable again, last time she felt divine was the worst day of her life. it’s almost like a curse— one that never lets her feel true enjoyment.

fluffy and snowy meow loudly at her neighbor for food too, so she grabs a small dish and starts plopping some wet food onto it. again, sevika can’t fathom why someone would do that. on the counter? where she’s eating? but it’s not her apartment, so she keeps her mouth full of pancakes to stop the complaints.

she can’t wait to get home. checking the time, she realizes that it’s now afternoon. this has been the most eventful day she’s lived through in a while, and that triggers her anxiety to tone everything down. she needs a drink and a nap, so she thanks her neighbor and heads one door up the hall to her own apartment.

her door is unlocked, just how she left it, and she realizes that the only valuable thing in her apartment might be her liquor cabinet. maybe she should get a lock after all. add that to the list.

she guzzles down some whiskey directly from the bottle before stopping to take a breath. with how much she’s been drinking lately, she barely gets drunk anymore. it’s not fair, she might just have to find something stronger. jesus christ, i’m gonna drink myself to death. before she has a chance to bury herself back in bed, her phone rings. how strange, she hasn’t gotten a call in years. but what choice does she have, other than to lift up the receiver?

“yes?” she groans.

“hello,” you greet, a bit disturbed that someone would answer the phone with just ‘yes?’ “is this sevika?”

“who are you?”

“i’m from the church, we met earlier.”

“oh… okay… so…?”

“so, i wanted to tell you that i meant it when i said i hope you join us again. it was nice to see you, we rarely get any newcomers in this small town but… i can tell that you’re different.”

“okay…” sevika says. there is no way she’s stepping foot in that building again. jesus christ himself could not drag her in there.

“so… you’ll come?”

“i still need to be convinced.”

“easy. but i’ll need you to show up for that.”

“maybe.” she says, and you feel like you can hear a hint of promise in her voice.

“okay, well, have a good rest of your day. i’ll see you soon. maybe.” you say, about to hang up.

“how did you get my number?” she questions.

“helen gave it to me.”

“…who?”

“your neighbor? helen?”

“oh… right.” how could she not know her own neighbor’s name?

“sevika, don’t worry.” you assure her. “i’ll help you believe.” and the line goes quiet.

iv. I WILL DELIVER, YOU KNOW I’M A FORGIVER

that day was the first time you saw sevika, and you wish you could live in that moment forever. she was so soft and so sharp at the same time, and it was surprisingly harmonious. her physical features were striking, she looked almost… scary. but that scariness was easily cancelled out by her gentleness.

her cheeks were thin and sunken, but her chin effortlessly faded into the smooth skin of her neck. her nose stuck straight out of her head, but there was a slight curve to it that made you wanna run a gentle fingertip over it. her eyes were bright and silver, but they were so big and so round. she was tall, sticking up higher than anyone else in the room, but her hips and thighs were so plush and thick, she took up just the right amount of space.

she was just plain gorgeous. usually you’d scold yourself for thinking about another woman this way, but you’d been slowly coming to terms with your sexuality. as long as you don’t act on it.

from the moment you laid eyes on her, you knew you had to guide her. it was like some sort of fate or destiny. here’s this immaculate woman showing up in front of you in desperate need of help, your help specifically. it was a perfect mission, you’d do anything in her power to earn her trust and to help her feel that faith.

by some miracle, she answered the phone when you rang. judging by her previous attitude, you almost expected her to storm back down to the church and smack you across the face. your conversation was unproductive, sure, but it was a good start. well, if she decides to show up, that is. you don’t doubt her, if anything you can just ask her neighbor to force her to tag along again.

the mental image of her floats around in your head all day. what are you gonna do when she does show up? give her some sort of speech? she’ll probably just tune you out like she does to the rest of the world. you wonder why she acts the way she does, there’s no way anybody with a normal life could act this guarded. you just hope she opens up eventually, you’d kill to get to know her.

sevika’s not amused. she doesn’t want anyone’s help, or to pretend to have faith in something that’s all just make believe. really, the only thing she wants is some peace and quiet, and for the pain in her shoulders to lessen. before returning to her den, she sluggishly trudges to the kitchen cupboards, yanking them open in search of some painkillers. to her luck, there are two small pills left, which she quickly downs. she chooses water over whiskey this time, shockingly, because she’s a little bit frightened by drinking herself to death. which is strange, and she wonders why she values her life so much.

no matter what you do, you can’t get this woman off of your mind. something about her makes you feel different than how other people make you feel, but you can’t tell what it is or why. you need a plan. you need to talk to her again. or at least some confidence would be handy. but instead of dwelling on it, you decide to go for a walk.

the walk doesn’t really work though, it actually does the opposite of clearing your mind. you have nothing to focus on, no work to do, so you just think. your mind runs wild the whole time. you’re so intrigued, so excited yet nervous, you feel like it’s almost a craving. almost, because you’re not really sure what a craving is. not until you meet her, at least.

after swallowing her pain meds, sevika crawls back into bed, the heavy feeling of anxiety that settled over her chest slowly but surely fades, and she’s eased into a light afternoon nap. the plain white walls of her room offer some familiar comfort, but the more she looks at them, the more she’s reminded of the hospital. fuck, maybe she should try to decorate the place. and she really does need to go shopping later.

——

she wakes up nearly three hours later feeling more exhausted than before she slept. at least she feels a bit more calm, but the looming feeling of her responsibilities made her groan. another reason why she doesn’t want pets: it’s another mouth to feed, to walk, clean up after, bathe, spend time with. she can barely do those things for herself, how on earth could she do it for something else?

rather than pouting about her responsibilities, she makes the tough decision to get out of bed and get started with her day. get started meaning that it’s almost 6:00pm and she’s only just now attempting to complete her to-do list. and so what? she lives on her own terms. she doesn’t bother brushing her messy hair after her nap, even less to keep it out of her face with a little half ponytail. it never works anyways, the wind whips it all around you until it sticks to the sides of your face with humidity.

so, that’s it then, and she shoves her shoes and her coat on and leaves. the door stays unlocked, of course, and she makes her way down the stairwell and out of the building. there’s a small grocery store on her block which is conveniently located next to a liquor store. if she has the funds after buying her necessities, she’ll stop in there for a treat. actually, she’ll probably stop in there anyways, but she likes to think that she still has some self control left when it comes to drinking.

does she remember what she needed to buy? no. and did she bother to write down her mental shopping list as it came to her? nope! but it’ll come to her. hopefully. she spends the whole walk there trying to focus on what she needs to spend her money on and what she wants to spend her money on. she needs more painkillers, more snacks, some sort of decoration for her place, and… was there something else?

she crosses into the store and she’s immediately greeted by the sound of loud pop music buzzing through the speakers. great, so she’s overstimulated already. she’ll make it quick, she decides, it’s not like she wanted to be here in the first place.

sauntering down the aisles, she picks up everything she needs. at least, everything she remembers that she needs. she grabs a large bottle of extra strength ibuprofen, more bread and butter, microwave meals, milk and eggs, and what else? before she can think of another thing to add, she decides to just leave. if she thinks of anything else, she can always just come back later.

her shoulders sag under the weight of her basket, full of stuff that’ll probably just rot in her fridge. as she approaches the register, she sighs as the man behind it attempts to strike up a conversation with her. she’s not interested, she never has been, and she has no clue why he insists on chatting with her every time she’s there.

she doesn’t respond to the man the entire time she’s there, just staring daggers past him. she doesn’t even muster out a “good evening” or “goodnight”. i mean jesus, even a “fuck you” might’ve been polite. it’s not like she cares.

but she does stop by the liquor store on the way home, as we knew she would. she decides to treat herself, picking up not only one, but two bottles off of the shelf. whiskey and vodka, not cheap but it does the job. the money will come back around anyways. the man behind the counter, this time stoned out of his mind, asks her what she’s gonna do with the alcohol.

“what am i gonna do with it?” she repeats, obviously annoyed and confused. “what the fuck do you think?”

“mannnn, i bet you could make a hundred bottles of homemade mouthwash with this stuff. fucking awesome.”

sevika rolls her eyes and collects the large glass bottles, shoving them into her bag as gently as she can. she has no idea why everyone’s so interested in talking with her tonight, it’s like she’s wearing a glowing neon sign above her head that says “TALK TO ME!”

does she look approachable? happy? friendly? welcoming? no, obviously not. she must not be part of this inside joke the world is playing on her tonight.

so you’re surprised to see sevika when you’re out for your second walk of the night. pacing around in your own house wasn’t working, and all you wanted was some fresh air. well, maybe not fresh, but the temperature definitely did shock you. you almost walked right past her until you recognized her statuesque figure. she was across the parking lot, rolling her eyes and shoving the door to the liquor shop open as she stepped back outside.

huh. sevika at a liquor shop. not necessarily unusual for a person, but forbidden for you. you wonder if this is a ritual for her, if she’s gonna go home and get drunk or something, or maybe if she’s gonna split the bottle with some friends. does she even have friends?

you turn around and head in the same direction she does, hoping your paths cross before her quick, long strides can leave you behind. and you eventually catch up to her, pretending you had no idea you’d run into her, you greet her with a “oh, sevika! hey, i didn’t expect to see you here.” except, you did expect to see her here. you already spied her storming out of the liquor store. ugh, you’re such a bad liar.

“oh… hi.” she mumbles, a little disturbed by your sudden appearance, and already burnt out from the two people who’ve made small talk with her in the past hour. while you stand in front of her, she raises her eyebrow slightly as if to signal that she’s waiting for you to say something before she walks away.

“i’ll see you next week, yeah?” you remind her, not really sure of what to say. partly because the meeting is so sudden, and partly because this woman is breathtaking.

“yeah, maybe.” she agrees halfheartedly.

“i don’t want your ‘maybe’s sevika. i want you to say yes to me.” you challenge, huffing at her indecisiveness. “if you want me to help you, i need a yes.”

“help me with what?” she asks, pretending to be shocked and offended at your words. you stutter, staring up at her with a sorry look in your eyes.

“oh, i’m sorry, i didn’t mean—”

“i’m just fucking with you.” she says, chuckling to herself and offering a small smile. and as if her face couldn’t get any more perfect, you notice a small gap between two of her top teeth. she’s so beautiful you feel like you’re gonna melt, even in this chilly autumn weather.

before you think about what you’re saying next, you blurt out a “tomorrow? can i see you tomorrow?”

she raises her eyebrows at your bluntness, the suggestion seems to come out of nowhere. but what else does she have to do? and she already feels bad for fucking with you all of the time, shouldn’t she just give in and attend whatever stupid meeting you have planned for her?

“i— i guess, yeah.”

“you guess?” you tease. “or you will show up?”

“i will. i’ll see you tomorrow.” she admits with a huff.

“good, i’ll see you tomorrow too then.” you say, and you offer her a small wave before walking past her and continuing with your walk. after seeing her, your mind automatically feels so much clearer considering the fact that she was the one occupying all of your thoughts.

sevika stands frozen in place as you walk away, holding her bag in her hand as she reflects on what she just agreed to. why the fuck would she say yes to that? she doesn’t believe in any of your religious bullshit, and she doesn’t care to try. but it’s too late, she’ll just have to let you down easy when tomorrow comes.

but when tomorrow does come, she decides to go a little bit easier on herself. it’s not like you’re trying to annoy her with all of your beliefs and jargon and whatnot, and she can tell that this actually does mean a lot to you. plus, she’s in a good mood after remembering that she bought two new bottles of alcohol. she even ate a little bit last night and managed to keep it all down, which is a rare occurrence for her. so yeah, it might be a good day.

the sun peeks out just a tiny bit from behind the clouds as she walks herself back to the church, which offers a nice, although minuscule, bit of warmth. you’re already there by the time she arrives, and you greet her with a warm smile and invite her down the long hallway to your ‘office’. it’s not technically a real office since you don’t do too much work other than filing papers and planning events, you just begged them to give you a room that you could sit alone in sometimes.

you don’t have any sort of plan on how you’re gonna convert sevika, or how to at least help her fix up her life a little bit, but you do wanna get to know her. so you start with that. you ask her where she’s from and if she’s lived here her whole life, and you’re surprised to learn that she used to work in new york. all the way across the country.

she hesitates to tell you why she left though, saying she’d rather save it for a later session when she gets more comfortable. which she regrets almost instantly, because she just solidified herself another few meetings like these. she tells you more, like how she was always close with her mother until she passed when sevika was only ten. and how she definitelty inherited some anger from her dad, even though she never liked him.

her childhood was interesting. to you at least. she was just stable enough to keep herself afloat, but unstable enough for her to be left with some sort of trauma. she moved out as soon as she reached eighteen and never looked back. she scoured for jobs that would be good for someone like her, someone broken but strong. resilient, you call it.

the two of you chat for nearly three hours, you asking questions after question and her answering nearly all of them. but the one question that you’re too scared to ask is this: what happened that turned her into… this? she said it had something to do with her job, something that just completely broke her and left her unable to snap back. but what was it? how bad could it have been? what job did she have? was it her fault? but you did agree to letting her tell you on her own terms, so you’ll just have to wait until she’s ready.

eventually your time is up, and you walk sevika back out of the double doors of the small building. she flashes you a small smile, one that you’re already obsessed with, and she turns to leave.

“wait.” you call after her, although she’s only about six feet away from you. “you don’t have a car?”

“no.”

“how did you get here?”

“i… walked…” she says, waiting for you to get to your point.

“all this way?”

“it’s only about a block and a half.”

“but— well…” now you feel bad. you didn’t know that you were forcing her to exercise her exhausted joints and muscles in this weather. sure, maybe she doesn’t mind, but if you were her you’d probably throw a tantrum. “do you want me to drive you?” you ask.

“sure, if you really want to.”

“of course i want to.” you say, and you practically drag her off of the sidewalk and shove her into the passenger side of your car. the drive is short, her building really is just about a block and a half away.

“i’ll see you next week.” you say.

“yeah, see you then.” she responds, and for once it doesn’t feel forced or awkward.

“and tell helen i say hi if you see her. assuming you know who she is?” you giggle.

“yes, i know my own neighbor.” she says, rolling her eyes and chuckling.

“just making sure…” you tease.

sevika just laughs and waves you goodbye through your front window, disappearing into the building and up the stairs. you don’t even register it— to busy with staring at her back— but eventually it hits you that she laughed. this mysterious, guarded woman laughed at something you said. and she spent the last three hours opening up to you about her life. and for the first time in quite a while, you feel like you’re finally good at your job.

——

sevika’s been following through on her promise, meeting you for exactly four weeks now. twenty eight days. you started out with just seeing her twice a week, then every other day, and now you see each other daily. she opened up to you about how much she hates the church setting, how it activates her fight or flight response and brings up old memories, so you switched to taking her to a small local cafe instead.

it’s great. you get to have real coffee, not the burnt stuff from the coffee pot in the church’s kitchen. you’ve also been forcing sevika to eat after learning that it’s been a struggle for her. nothing big, but you make sure she always has at least a muffin or a croissant in her stomach. you pick her up and driving her there too, which is good for her because she can finally relax instead of being worn out from walking everywhere.

she’s taken a liking to you, every morning she’s glad she wakes up because she knows she can see you again. it’s such a strange feeling, but she enjoys it. opening up to you wasn’t as difficult as she thought it would be either. you listen so attentively, and you’re always careful to ask appropriate questions and give her a break without her even having to ask for one.

it’s never been easy for her to talk about what happened in her past, and she wishes she had the ability to forget about it completely. but it’s easier with you. every time her eyes grow wide and teary as she pictures the bodies, you change the topic and point at a cute dog outside of the window. or when she gets choked up, stumbling over her words because the brutality of the situation is just too much for her, you let her take her time.

the most memorable moment for her was when she told you about that kid with the blue hair. everything else, sevika managed to stay under control about. sure, the mangled body parts and the melted flesh was bad, but that fucking kid. her lips were still blue. she’d been so alive only moments earlier, smiling as sevika gave her a fist bump and held her in her arms, and she was gone just like that.

when she told you, she couldn’t help but break down in heavy sobs. you could feel your heart shatter at this— the story and sevika’s reaction to it. you scrambled from your side of the booth to hers, scooting in next to her and wrapping her up in a hug as she cried. to your surprise, she hugged you back. she hooked her chin over your shoulder, grabbed you tightly in her strong arms, and just let herself go.

it’s the most tranquility she’s ever felt, and it put all of her past therapists to shame. immediately after that day, the two of you were bonded. you’d do anything for her. be a shoulder to cry on, drive her to and from her various doctors appointments, and make sure she’s eating.

she’s started to trust you, and she agreed to going back to the church with you a few times a week. instead of taking your usual spot with the rest of the staff and speakers, you sit with her every time. sevika on your left, her neighbor on your right.

today you’re feeling particularly bold for some reason, you suspect it might be because of your friendship with sevika, but this feels different. well, you know how it feels, but you’re scared to admit it. although you’ll probably be fine, you’re hesitant to say it to yourself out of the fear that you’ll be thrown out of the church. yes, you like sevika, and sure, she is a beautiful woman. but you just can’t bring yourself to say it. to say that you have a real crush on her. to admit that you want her.

so instead of saying anything, you use your actions instead. glancing over both of your shoulders, you make sure that nobody important is looking in your direction before you snake your hand forward and wrap your hand around sevika’s. this action is the farthest you’ve ever gone with anyone, and your cheeks are practically on fire with how hard you’re blushing. you wouldn’t be surprised if the whole building could hear your heartbeat right now.

sevika adjusts her fingers so that she’s gripping your hand firmly, and you feel so… dirty, almost. you know that this is nothing, but you’re scared and ashamed of what other people might think. but although it initially feels wrong, you settle down when you realize that nobody’s looking— even more that nobody cares— and it feels so right. her hands are surprisingly warm and soft, they feel so welcoming and familiar against yours.

maybe, just maybe, you’ll hold her hand more often. but for now, this is just a one-time occurrence.

she notices the panicked look in your eyes as you stare straight ahead. she tries to nudge you gently, but you’re in such a deep stupor that you don’t notice it.

“hey.” she whispers, elbowing you a bit harder than last time. “you okay?”

you realize now that she’s trying to talk to you, so you just squeeze her hand and give her a small nod, blinking your eyes a few times and trying to snap back into reality. once the ceremony is over, you stand and walk sevika and her neighbor to the door quickly.

“are you sure you’re alright?” she asks again.

“yeah, it’s nothing.”

“you know that… this works both ways, right?” she says, gesturing between both of your bodies. “if you need someone to talk to, i can listen.”

“i know, thank you.” you start. “but it’s not like that. it’s nothing… bad. i think? but i’m fine. or— i will be fine.” you say, stumbling over your words incredibly hard.

“you don’t seem fine to me.” she retorts.

“i am, thank you though. get home safely.” you choke out, missing a crucial part to your signature goodbye’s.

“…see you tomorrow?” she asks.

“oh, yes! see you tomorrow, i knew i was forgetting something.”

sevika flicks you on the forehead, before turning to leave. “get some rest, then.”

“i will.” you laugh, although it’s forced.

as soon as her and her neighbor are out of sight, you turn around and make a beeline for your office at the end of the hall. your eyes are glued to the floor, purposefully ignoring anyone’s gaze in case they try to chat with you.

the door clicks locked behind you, and you slump down in our office chair. with your head in your hands, you start to cry. the anxiety in your chest is just too much to handle, and you’re so upset with yourself. you’re upset because it felt so good to be that close to her, and you let yourself indulge in something you know you’ll never get to have. you allowed yourself to catch feelings, but you know you can’t go any further. you’ll have to stick with just thinking she’s pretty and sweet and yours, and watch her fall in love with another woman.

worst of all, she’ll probably fall in love with a woman who’s the total opposite of you. someone who’s experienced and not awkward and cool. and not you. and this really hurts to realize.

what are you supposed to do now? now that you’ve admitted how you feel to yourself, what else is there to do? you can’t ask her out on a date, that would be against everything your community believes in. but are you really supposed to just sit here and play along? it’s not fair. your adrenaline is so high right now that all you really want to do is run.

and that's just what you do. you don't even bother to use the exit door down the hallway, you just peel your window open and hop out of it. tears prickle your eyes and the frosty air nips at your skin, but it helps even out your overheating temperature. you’ve walked this route a millions times already, it’s nothing different but the gentle scenery offers a nice place to think.

you think about all of the sweet moments you’ve shared together, specifically about how much it means to you. you’ve never really had a friend like this before. sure, you’re convivial, but having someone like this was so different. she was yours. and you’d gladly be hers if she asked you to, but would she ask you to? would she ever ask someone like you to be hers?

but you also think about how much your religion means to you. you’ve been part of this for so long, working harder to have a strong sense of faith every single day. if you get with sevika, they could cut you off in an instant, and it would’ve all been for nothing. your reputation would be ruined, and if you’d ever wanna start over with another church, you’d have to leave this small town. leave your home.

it’s just not fair. why did god make you this way? for everyone else, falling in love with a man is no problem. they were made the right way, or at least know how to ignore their true feeling really well. was there some sort of secret lesson that you missed? that everyone is in on besides you?

once you get dizzy and out of breath, you find a stump to sit on and reflect. your shoes kick at the dirt underneath you, brain fuzzy as you try to decide on what to do. little bugs crawl around on the ground beneath you, each one of them having a family and a home. i wish i could have a family, you think. you can hear rain pattering on the leaves of the trees above you, but you stay dry. well, as dry as you possibly can be living this close to the ocean.

you don’t even realize how long you’ve been sitting here lost in your thoughts before the sky turns a lovely light shade of orange, and you realize you’d better leave now if you wanna get back before dark. the only thing on your mind as always is sevika.

sevika has been thinking about you all night too, wondering if you’re okay after the way you acted. she won’t push, she wants to give you time to open up to her the same way you did, but she just worries. and she misses the warmth of your hand in hers, although she could tell you were nervous. in her opinion, it was cute. she admires how gentle you are, how you always make sure others are alright before making sure you are alright. but whatever it is, she doesn’t doubt that you’ll be fine.

leaving your window open was a stupid idea, now your entire office is cold and there’s a puddle of rainwater leaking down the bottom of the window and onto the floor. but you’ve made up your mind. you need to call her. you know that she’s infinitely more experienced with these feelings than you are, so she’ll be able to help you, even if those feelings are about her.

she’s about to go to bed early when her phone rings again. she knows it’s you before she even picks up— you’re the only one with her number.

“yes?”

“…sevika.” you sob out, the small whimper of her name followed by sniffles and cries.

“holy shit, are you okay?” she asks frantically, scared that maybe you’re hurt or something.

“well… physically yes. but i just… miss you. i need to talk to you in person.”

“okay, yeah. i’m on my way.” she says, and she practically flies out of her building and down the street to get to you. it’s not late, but the sky is already pitch black due to how early the sun sets. you meet her at the door again when she arrives, and the sight of her instantly calms your nerves. she looks so worried, it makes your heart twist. you’re so in love and it’s all her fault.

she doesn’t hesitate to wrap you up in her arms as you sob into her shoulder, and this gesture only makes you sob harder. because you’re so in love and you think you know which side you’re choosing. and it breaks your heart.

“what’s going on?” she asks, and you realize you’re still standing in the doorway.

“come inside, i’ll explain.”

“okay…” she whispers. “did something happen?”

“i have a question.”

“of course. ask me anything.”

“do you ever…” you trail off, trying to find the right words. “feel like… like you can’t live without someone? and you’d give up anything to be with them?”

“yeah, i guess i’ve felt that way before.” she admits quizzically.

“what’s it called?” you ask, although you already know the answer.

“love?” she guesses.

“sevika, can i tell you something?”

“yeah, go ahead.” she says, worried that maybe you’re about to admit to killing someone.

“i think…” you start, but you get interrupted by tears dripping past your eyes and down your cheeks.

“spit it out,” she prompts. “you can trust me.”

“i think i’m in love with you.” you blurt out, biting the bullet.

“oh…” she says, and she almost steps away from you before she realizes that you’re crying again. so she wraps you in another hug and rubs your back. you grip onto her so hard you can barely breathe, and you cry in her arms for so long that you’re brought to your knees. sevika holds you even after you fall the the floor, keeling before you as your knees give out.

she’s in love with you too, but she didn’t wanna say anything in case it made you uncomfortable. plus, she’s not really into corruption or anything, so she decided to just respect your boundaries. but eventually her joints grew sore of sitting on the floor, so she rose, holding your face in her hands and wiping up all of your tears as they fall.

v. REACH OUT AND TOUCH FAITH

every little thing about her attracted you. sevika was a lost soul, mysterious above all. a woman who needed help and direction but was so strong, you swore she could hold the whole world on her shoulders, no matter how much she’d whine about the pain. she complains about people— how there are too many of them and how they’re all stupid— but she’d give her life in a heartbeat to save them.

you couldn’t crack her, no matter how hard you tried.

she looked down at you with her silver eyes sparkling in the candlelight, her hair falling over her face in a silky curtain. you gasped as her thick hands took their place on either side of your head, each one cupping your cheeks so tenderly although they have a rough exterior. you always knew she was capable of being gentle.

you looked up at her from your position on your knees, her torso looking impossibly longer than usual. something comes over you, something that warms up your stomach until you feel so dizzy you feel the need to reach for something to steady yourself. unaware of just how much trouble this would get you in, you end up grabbing for her upper thighs. they’re so thick that your hands are almost completely flat, but they’re sturdy. perfect for grabbing onto.

she chuckles at your flushed state, huffing out an amused “it’s alright, you can touch me if you want. you won’t burst into flames.”

those two sentences make your cheeks heat up involuntarily. you know what she’s implying, and it makes you feel strangely electric. if you don’t burst into flames by this act of sinning, you’ll burst into flames due to how flustered you are. she does something to you that feels so enchanting, like some sort of spell she’s casted. you’ve been frozen in place for so long that you hardly register the soft caress of her thumbs against the apples of your cheeks. if she were medusa, you’d get turned to stone in an instant.

“sevika, what are you— we should—”

“what are you thinking about right now?” she asks, tauntingly putting an end to your stuttering mess of a sentence.

“uh— medusa. and you. you remind me of her.” you choke out, reaching up and gripping onto her biceps before hauling yourself up.

“how so?”

“i always feel like you put me under some kind of spell. like when i’m with you i’m frozen in place. in a good way.” you respond, your breath tickling her face as you gaze up at her from a closer distance this time.

most of your dizziness has relented, and now you sense something softer in the way sevika gazes at you. like she’s pleading for something she doesn’t know how to ask for. she stammers back, almost hitting the wall, and you grow concerned. the roles have shifted. little do you know, you’re in power now. she feels… weak. and needy. something tingly settles in her stomach, she can’t decipher whether it’s anxiety or horniness.

“sevika?” you ask with concern, slowly walking over to where she’s pressed against the wall. her chest heaves as she breathes deeply, and she shivers when you reach out to grab her hand. “are you feeling alright?”

“i don’t think i can do this anymore.” she confesses, her big, silver eyes growing glossy with tears. “i’m— i can’t do this to you.”

“what are you talking about?” you attempt to soothe, worried that maybe she’s suddenly gotten possessed or something.

“you belong here, sevika. you’re not doing anything wrong. if anything, it’s me who should back off right now.”

“it’s not about that.” she sighs, unable to meet your gaze, her eyes instead settling for your lips. a sight she’s seen many times before in her most erotic fantasies.

“what are you feeling right now?” you ask, your therapist persona settling over you in case she’s about to reveal more of her past trauma.

“i… i can’t say it.” she whispers, now solely focused on the curve of your lips and how they’re still shining from the last time your tongue trailed over them.

“you can trust me.” you whisper back. “always.”

sevika studies your words in her mind, hoping that you’d still mean them if you could see the thoughts running wild in her mind right now. she inches closer to you and her nose almost brushes yours. the tension in the room makes her squirm, thighs pressing together in an attempt to soothe the ache between them. somehow, in some strange way, this feels better than sex. better than anything she’s ever smoked, any liquid she could get drunk on.

you are her intoxicant. her stronger substance. her higher power. her breath of fresh air in this humid town. you are what she’s been searching for.

before she makes another move, she pauses. you’re looking at her with such concern, such love, her heart feels like it’s gonna burst. she theorizes that you’re aware of exactly what she’s thinking, but she has no way to know. sevika wonders how you’d react if she leaned forward and kissed you right now.

you have a sneaking suspicion that she’s thinking of something… lustful right now. it shows in her eyes. wide with pupils big and blown out, and the silver in them is practically glittering. she looks pretty, you think, and soft. and although it’s against almost everything you believe in, you probably wouldn’t mind if she leaned in right now and just—

her lips come crashing against yours, a beautiful harmony of carnal aggression and tender care. gravity suddenly feels about twenty times stronger, and you near collapse in sevika’s strong arms. instead of that, you regain your balance after stumbling and back her against the wall. her back hits it with a thud, and she whimpers into your mouth. she whimpers.

it’s as if everything you’ve ever believed in suddenly floods out of your mind. you don’t care which god sees you kissing another woman with such animal desire. somehow it doesn’t matter to you anymore. all that matters is sevika. her safety, her trust, her pleasure.

for once, you allow yourself to feel this way. although it feels wrong, it’s so freeing. you’re an adult for god’s sake, and you’ve missed out on so much due to the strict rules of the church. you want this, you deserve this. after all, it is technically your job to guide sevika, to make her feel good. how is this any different?

as her lips part, you take the chance to slide your tongue over hers. just a gentle brush, but the warm heat of her mouth drives you crazy. her hands claw at your hips, pulling you closer until there’s no gap between the pair of you. this level of closeness isn’t something you’re used to, but fuck, it feels so right.

you can feel the way her thighs tighten when she squirms and clenches them together, feel her own tits rub against yours through your clothes. the intimacy of the moment almost feels awkward, especially because it’s completely silent other than the sounds of your lips smacking together. but before you can dwell on the embarrassment crashing over you, sevika grounds you by moaning your name into your mouth.

as if you weren’t already turned on, this flips a switch and activates something in you that’s a hundred times stronger. both of you pant when you pull back, staring into the silver pools of sevika’s irises. you need her. now. in every way possible.

“take your clothes off.” you demand. sevika nods momentarily, but she hesitates.

“are you sure? we don’t need to— if you’re not comfortable with it that’s fi—”

“now, sevika.” you huff at her attempt to be gentlemanly, but you know she’s craving this as much as you are.

without another word, she strips herself of her shirt, leaving her in just a black sports bra and jeans. you halt your own undressing to stare at her. and god. she’s fucking perfect. her abdomen carries the remnants of what you assume used to be a thick six pack of abs. and although you can’t exactly see them yet, her tits are wide and heavy looking, her ribs poking out slightly under them.

something that you didn’t expect to turn you on is her happy trail. she’s got a thick line of dark, coarse hair running from her belly button all the way down to—

her pants drop to the floor as you continue to stare at her, and your eyes trail lower and lower until they reach the ground. her thighs look impossibly thicker, and you’re surprised about how much she complains about her body. she looks so strong, like nothing could ever hurt her. and as for being insecure? impossible for someone who looks as good as she does. you’d do anything to make her aware of just how beautiful she is.

as she stands almost naked before you, she peeps out a timid “your turn.”

before you think twice, you tackle her to the floor, crushing her lips under yours and shoving your tongue back into her mouth. she whimpers when she hits the ground, albeit mostly out of pain instead of pleasure. you slightly pull away with a gasp, concerned about potentially hurting her— the opposite of your intentions.

“fuck, sorry.” you groan against her lips. “did i hurt you?”

“it’s alright.” she responds. “worth it to have a pretty thing like you on top of me.”

with that, you’re kissing her even deeper, grabbing onto the back of her head to get a better angle with your tongue. she shuffles slightly under you, bucking her hips up as she unbuttons your own pants. shit, you think to yourself, i’ve never done this before.

your bottoms are quickly discarded, sevika throws them somewhere behind you the second they’re off. you’re dying to get your hands on her tits, but you don’t know how to ask. it’s a good think she can always tell what you’re thinking, because she reaches up to hook her thumbs under her bra and yank it off. and god, you were right. her tits are wide and heavy, they’re so smooth and round with the most perfect brown nipples sitting proudly in the center of each one.

you lean forward to give each one a kiss, just a gentle brush, but it doesn’t really satisfy your craving for her. you pout, you’re so horny that it hurts. no matter what article of clothing she removes, it’s not enough. you just wanna crawl inside of her and live there.

“what’s wrong?” she asks.

“i need you.”

“have you ever had sex before?”

“no. i have no idea what i’m doing.”

“guess it’s my turn to guide you.” she laughs, and although the joke was stupid, you giggle too. you didn’t know it could be this fun.

she shuffles under you as she slides her boxers off, and you almost drool at the sight of her bush. it’s just so… beautiful. and intimate. she pats your hips as a signal to scoot off of her, and she spreads her legs before manhandling you to sit your cunt on top of hers. as soon as you connect your cunt with hers, you swear you black out.

it all feels so good. she keeps spreading her legs wider to help you get a better angle against her clit, and you can feel it throbbing against yours. you thought holding her hand was intimate, but this is so much more than you could’ve imagined.

“fuck, sevika.” you moan, tears crashing over you again and dripping onto her cheeks now. “you’re so beautiful.”

she groans at this, tears washing over her too. she hasn’t felt beautiful in so long, and here you are completely undoing her insecurities. all of the scars on her face, cheeks, neck, arms, and torso get kissed. you trail your fingers along some, your tongue along others. you want her to feel loved. you want her to feel the exact same way that she makes you feel.

“you’re beautiful too.” she admits sheepishly. “i can’t believe i haven’t fucked you sooner.”

this flusters you. it’s hard for you to believe that anyone can just be this confident saying things like that, especially because you’re not used to it. but it feels so good to be desired. to have the woman of your dreams using you to get off.

you’re both so sensitive that it doesn’t take long for either of you to cum. sevika’s catches her first after you tell her how beautiful her scars are, even though she used to believe they were the ugliest things known to mankind. she gasps as she cums, her thick cream leaking out of her cunt and down her ass.

you eventually follow after her when she readjusts, moving one of her hands down from your neck onto your hip. she grinds up into you, and your clit meets hers at such an angle that you cum with a scream. it’s dizzying. you gasp and moan and writhe as your orgasm crashes down over you. considering that it’s your first, you weren’t expecting it to be so enveloping. you were taught that sex was unholy, gross, sinful, and a plethora of other negative adjectives.

but it’s not.

you imagine that this is what heaven feels like, a shock of pleasure that runs through your body and leaves you panting and reeling. and it’s fun. as soon as you come down, sevika’s congratulating you on a good job and holding you close. you cry again, but this time not out of fear, out of certainty. you have it all figured out. you’ve just felt the best sensation of your life and here’s the love of your life smiling up from under you.

and so sevika holds you for another few minutes. yeah, you’re both naked in the middle of church, and yeah you’d be burned at the stake if anyone ever found out. but you wouldn’t mind that, as long as you have sevika with you.

“sevika?” you ask after a long while of silent kisses and tickling breaths.

“yeah?”

“i think we need to get out of here.”

“alright. where to?”

“i dunno. let’s leave the country.”

sevika laughs at this, and it’s a sound prettier than anything you’ve ever heard. something you’ll never get sick of. “fuck, i love you so much.”

but before convincing her to leave the country with you, you drive her to a small 24 hour diner down the street and have dinner together. it’s a real date, although all of those coffee shop meeting have gotta count for something too. you hold her hand across the table, this time not afraid, and share a milkshake just like they do in the movies.

so yeah, maybe things didn’t work out for you with this certain group of people, and maybe it does still take a while for you to get over your fear of societal rejection, but sevika is there for you every step of the way. as your girlfriend. officially.

OK HAIII if you made it all the way through my the treacherous jungle of my yap and you’re reading this, thank you so much!!!! i poured my entire heart and soul (and pussy) into this so i hope u enjoyed hehehe :P special thanks to pluto, rayray, eren, and lyss for allowing me to yap about this fic to them, i couldn’t have done it without you guys 🥹 my favorite people in the world right here, MWAH here’s a kiss from ennabear <3 and another thanks to the rest of my mutuals for putting up with the empty promises of “coming soon” at least it’s actually finished now!! i love all of you, let me know what you thought of this one!!! comments and reblogs are very highly appreciated 🤎🤎

[xiaotuzu]

am I..a bkdk shipper? Yes. Now here’s some headcanons cuz fuck the hyper fixation is crazy right now.

BKDK HEADCANONS

Izuku definitely steals the blanket while Katsuki hogs the bed.

Katsuki probably worked in a barber shop (because he was def the type to be like “not my money but my parents’ money”, so he made some of his own) OR learned how to do a bit of hair from Best Jeanist— Izuku’s hair grows really fast, so Katsuki will always be the one to trim it and make up an excuse like “You seriously gonna pay that much money for a fucking trim?”

Their typical dates isn’t everyone’s ‘typical dates’— they totally prefer extreme sports or like physical activities as dates.

Izuku sleeps late but wakes up early and can survive with only 3-4hrs of sleep. Katsuki sleeps early but doesn’t wake up as early because he needs exactly 8hrs to even 10hrs of sleep.

Izuku can’t style himself FOR SHIT. So Katsuki’s always picking clothes out for him.

They can both cook and either take turns cooking for each other or cook together. Katsuki would make Izuku cut the vegetables while he seasons the meat.

Izuku is amazing at baking and Katsuki is lowkey a sweet tooth.

Katsuki has like amplified and enhanced taste buds (LITERALLY CANON IM PRE SURE) and can literally taste when there’s something missing. Izuku’s cooking can sometimes come out bland but he always makes sure Katsuki is taste testing.

Katsuki’s high spice tolerance is slowly rubbing off on Izuku to the point that he’s the only one that can keep up with Katsuki. He even catches himself lowkey craving something spicy (honestly so real cuz like me too).

Katsuki is a neat freak which means his quite minimalistic but the his decor is exquisite. Izuku is a chaotic neat freak which means his got so many stuff (AM merch…) but they’re all properly organised and cleaned.

LITERALLY KATSUKI’S PARENTS DYNAMIC.

They can’t flirt for shit— yes I’m all for Izuku’s sassiness but I just know he can’t with Katsuki. And vice versa. So their flirting consists of eye contacts and awkward laughs/smiles. (“OMG HE MADE EYE CONTACT WITH ME FOR 5 SECONDS. DOES THAT MEAN HE’S ASKING ME OUT?!”— Izuku, probably) (“He smiled at me. Fuck, what do I do?!”— Katsuki, probably)

Izuku’s a freak, I just know. Not like freak~, as in FREEAAK. He def read some Y/N x reader fanfics…and Katsuki lowkey indulged in some ship fanfics too. Izuku definitely wrote some and Katsuki may or may not have read them without knowing (I READ A FIC ABOUT THIS BEFORE).

Katsuki has a 10 step skincare routine (despite having amazing skin genes) whereas Izuku just splashes his face with cold water and calls it a day.

Spa night in Katsuki’s room surely (the girls definitely included obviously).

Katsuki is so act of service and gifts and Izuku is so words of affirmation and physical touch. Both are quality time.

Hardcore gossipers. Both so nosy as fuck honestly (def gossips about the Todoroki Fam Drama 😭)

Katsuki texts with long paragraphs and Izuku sends individual texts.

Izuku is an avid emoticon user and Katsuki uses emojis.

Izuku’s an android user and Katsuki’s an apple user.

…And I think that’s it! (for now…) I definitely have more stored up in my brain but it hasn’t seeped into yet.

[kurogane2512]

what do you think of a threesome breeding fic with Signora and Crucabena

My first thought:

Seriously tho, both of them would have a breeding kink for sure😮‍💨

NSFW BELOW

I imagine it's Crucabena who makes you wear a condom every time, even though Signora personally wouldn't mind if you didn't but she doesn't say it. Then comes one night when Signora becomes needy and wants you raw inside. She watches as Crucabena rides you while she sits on your face and you lap up her cunt, she looks at the wrapping on your dick and almost pouts thinking it's unfair she can't have you raw when she wants it.

So when she gets her chance, she slips off the condom and you think she's going to put a new one but instead you watch her straddle you and begin to take your dick inside. You look at her in surprise and she simply smirks and continues pushing it in, until it reaches her deepest parts and makes her moan in ecstasy. Your cock twitches inside her, her walls are so warm and tight that you feel like bursting right away.

"Remember this, I'm the first one who had you raw inside. Now you better not disappoint me~" she says with a smirk and begins rocking back n forth, biting her lower lip and sighing in pleasure.

"My, how unfair, Signora. You should have told me earlier you wanted it raw so much, I would have made suitable arrangements~" Crucabena says with a chuckle and sits beside you, caressing and kissing your face.

"Hmph. Unlike you, I have no problems in doing it raw. Besides, my insides are better, aren't they, my love?~" Signora leans down and kisses your lips.

"Oh? 'My love?' Hehe, looks like you two had some secret endeavours behind my back. I didn't expect you'd make me jealous of all people, Y/n~"

Signora scoffs and proceeds to bounce on your cock now so that you'd focus on her instead of Crucabena. You groan and hold her hips to keep her steady, slowly thrusting up into her and making a rhythm with her movements. Crucabena watches you two with interest, she wasn't lying about what she said earlier. She indeed felt jealous, and she knew Signora used to become jealous as well in the past. Signora moans as you stretch her out with your thick cock, your tip brushes her sensitive spots every time.

Your gaze doesn't leave her body, intently watching her breasts jiggle with how fast she rides you. Your dick feels like melting inside her, her walls clench you to dear life. She moans even louder now and you can tell she's close to cumming, she gazes at you with love but to her dismay, Crucabena soon straddles your face and sits on your mouth. Signora grits her teeth and glares at Crucabena who smirks in response, your tongue plunges inside Crucabena now and she moans out as you lick her.

Their moans and sighs of pleasure mix together forming a melodious harmony in your ears. They have such sweet and sultry voices that you can't get enough of them, it makes you thrust into Signora harder and pinch Crucabena's clit to draw out more of their exquisite moans. Signora wished to look at you as you'd cum, she wanted to feel that connection with you but Crucabena denied her. Both of them had caught feelings for you long ago, after all.

Signora arches back as she cums and feels your seed fill her up finally, her head thrown back as she moans out loud feeling your cum pour inside her and stuff her. Crucabena isn't far behind and cums soon after with how well your tongue pleasures her, both of them moaning in ecstasy and panting out while still straddling you. Signora gets off your dick and lays beside you to rest, and Crucabena wastes no time to straddle you now.

"Come on, show the same enthusiasm for me as well otherwise I'll feel sad~"

And you do, you sit up and turn over so that you are on top. Furthermore, you flip her over so her back is facing you. Crucabena whimpers with how roughly you handle her, but she loves it so much and you know it too. She wants to be fucked dumb the most, she wants to release all the stress from looking after the children and you give her most relief. You grab her hips and plunge your cock deep inside then drill forward with reckless abandon, her body falls on the bed as she lets you do whatever.

You harshly pull her into you every time you thrust, essentially using her as a toy. She whimpers uncontrollably, much louder and incoherent than Signora. You push her lower back down making an arch of her body and plow hard and fast, she's seeing stars by now and has no way of turning things. Soon after, Signora comes behind you and begins kissing and biting your neck. She holds you close as you rock your body inside Crucabena, then moves your hand under her cunt telling you to finger her.

By the end, both of them are stuffed full with your cum so much that it leaks out of them and their pussy throbs. They are definitely going to make you do it this way every time from now on.

[multifandom--mess]

Hannigram Fic Recs! pt.2

Here it is, the big fat fic recs post I've been putting off for like two months but at least that means I had time to read a shit ton of fics. I made sure to do a mix of short and long fics this time around since the first part were all long ones. Enjoy!

part 1

》 The Lamb and His Monster by petrodactyl352 (Explicit)(104k)

Will has always been drawn to the macabre. The proverbial flame upon which he has burnt his fragile moth’s wings time and time again, it’s why he had fallen in love with Florence and why he alone seems to see the beauty in the grisly but exquisite work of Il Mostro. But when he meets a young man in the Uffizi Gallery whose sketchbook is filled with nothing but page upon page of intricate renditions of the Primavera drawn in reverent strokes of pencil, he realizes he may not be alone in his fascination with the Monster. As they lift veils and scale forts and slowly begin to understand each other, Will gets a taste of exactly how bright the cinders of intrigue can burn—and how quickly they can kindle into an inferno of obsession.

(Young hannigram in Florence ahhh this is seriously one of the best fics i've ever read it had to be at the top of the list)

》 Spectral Hearts by mattHughdancy (Explicit) (16k)

Will has a meltdown at a crime scene. Guess who’s called in to help.

(Another top fave of mine they are so fucking cute in this fic 🤧 features autistic Will, and Hannibal just loves him so much oh my goddd my heart exploded reading this)

》 lay like a flood spills away by bleakmidwinter (Explicit)(35k)

Will Graham meets Hannibal, a frequent cruiser, at an open-minded nudist lake. Despite his reservations, Will is drawn to him, but is eventually forced to question his mysterious nature when the lakeside regulars start to go missing.

(I loved this one bc what better setting than a nudist lake. This is just gay as hell honestly lmao bc the lake is all dudes and Will is "straight" at the beginning until he meets Hannibal and it's all downhill from there. Definitely give this one a read it had some hilarious moments too)

》 Doing Things That Friends Don't Do by HigherMagic (Explicit) (39k)

A year after the fall, Will and Hannibal have settled into a fairly blissful, domestic harmony. But Will's imagination has never let him simply enjoy what he has - why should it start now?

(Basically Will trying everything in his power NOT to have sex with Hannibal but of course we all know he can't keep it together. They are so horny for each other in this i died laughing so many times. Also this author is such an amazing writer expect multiple recs from them in this post)

》 Railroad Romance by OneWhoSitsWithTurtles (12k)(Explicit)

Hannibal is still Hannibal, and Will is still Will. Except Will is not part of the FBI and they meet on a two day train trip from New Orleans to Baltimore.

(A strangers to lovers meet-cute on a train. Lots of fluffy moments and of course train sex ensues)

》 Three Stars by beforethedawn (94k)(Explicit)

Three months after the fall, Jack finally tracks them down in Canada and Will and Hannibal have to make a run for it, slumming it through America in three star hotels and eating sub par food.

(Hannigram roadtrip!! This fic was so fun I loved it. They take on the identities of some familiar Mads and Hugh characters ;)

》 Unexpected Delight by HigherMagic (Explicit) (61k)

Will has a kink that he’s deeply ashamed of. Unbeknownst to him, Hannibal has the same or a similar/compatible kink. They get together, and Will is going out of his way as he usually does to seem like his sexual tastes are as “normal” as possible. As a result, Hannibal gets the idea that Will is super vanilla and maybe a little prudish, and not wanting to scare him off, is also keeping his kinky side on the DL. This goes on for while, with them each trying super hard to hide how kinky they are and act as “vanilla” as possible, to hilarious results, all while privately thinking the other one would be super freaked out if they knew since they’re obviously so sweet and normal.

(This whole thing is literally ALL smut 😭😭 but Han and Will love each other to death and the sex is so good y'all omg I had to stop reading multiple times to catch my breath)

》 The Substitute by Devereauxs_Disease (Explicit) (10k)

When Hannibal tells Will he's sick, Will is skeptical. Before he knows it, he's laying in a hospital bed and being told he's going nowhere for two weeks. Will is distraught until Hannibal swoops in and offers to take over Will's courses at the FBI Academy. Will doesn't mind Hannibal showing up every night with a home-cooked meal, but he might just resent Hannibal becoming the most popular teacher at the Academy in just two weeks...

(A seaon 1 au if Hannibal wasn't an asshole had told Will about the encephalitis. This is hilarious tho because the students don't like Will no more when he comes back and they keep asking about Hannibal 😭😭 poor Will lmaoo)

》 When This Old Tired Body Wants to Sing by KareliaSweet (Explicit) (7k)

“Fuck me quicker, darling,” he purrs with liquid insincerity, “God forbid you see my face.” Will never touches him unless it is in the dark. In the daylight he is a ghost.

(Will being an asshole and only fucking Hannibal in the dark ugh 🙄 but things work out eventually so don't worry!)

》 Maybe Tomorrow by Shotgun_sinner (Explicit) (26k)

After recovering from their tumble off a cliff, Will agrees to get Hannibal to Portugal, where the good doctor can start a new life for himself. In exchange, Will can take the boat and return to his life, or start over himself. A storm hits on the open water, leaving them stranded somewhere in the Azores. With no one else on the small island, they're forced to work together for survival, and work through their violent past in order to get along.

(A survival au! I LOVED this and author is another fave of mine. I go crazy for a good stranded on a deserted island trope and this did not disappoint. Also there is an insanely funny part where I absolutely DIED. You'll know when you read it 💀💀)

》 I've Always Been A Daughter by air_of_the_Waterfall (44k)(Explicit)

It's been a month since Will and Abigail ran away with Hannibal. Living in a safe Canadian town, Will and Hannibal are free to explore their newfound intimacy and Abigail has a chance at the future she craves. However, upon meeting Hannibal’s sister Mischa and her daughter, loyalties are tested and insecurities run rampant. The Lecters have an undeniably dark past, and as Abigail and Will fall deeper into its truths, Hannibal’s manipulation and misguided love come to light more clearly than ever before.

(This fic is truly a hidden gem I am so glad I found it. Murder family post-mizumono and also MISCHA LIVES. The plot is so well written and I love Mischa's characterization. Definitely give this one a read, yall it is SO GOOD it deserves so much love)

》 Home is Not a Place by Shotgun_Sinner (11k)(Explicit)

Post-Fall, Hannibal recovers from his injuries. Will takes care of him, and their relationship evolves much more easily than Hannibal thought it would. The only issue is that Will is a constant presence, and he hasn't had alone time in three years. It ends up not being an issue at all.

(This one is so sweet. Basically Hannibal wants to jerk off but he can't because Will is just always there and he hardly gets a moment alone and he'll feel bad for telling him to go away 😭😭 but they finally get together in the end

》 Held in the Highest Regard by HigherMagic (12k)(Explicit)

What happens when a group of serial killers pick the absolute worst targets? Will is already having a pretty rough night, since Hannibal proposed to him and Will said 'No' for reasons he still hasn't quite figured out yet. It's not their fault - they couldn't have known - but sometimes people have to learn lessons the hard way, and Will could definitely use some stress relief.

(If you are familiar with the movie 'The Strangers' then you'll really like this one. I reread it like three times it was so good. Shit had me tweaking omg this is like the perfect au for them)

》 Green-Eyed Monster by CestPasDuBaudelaire (53k)(Explicit)

Will and Hannibal have settled in Cuba and, for the past year, they have been living their happily ever after in a small hidden community for retired wanted criminals. However, at the hazard of a gathering, Will is faced with an unbelievable fact, other members of the community may also fancy his monster of a husband. Then comes Will's spiraling, as he learns to come to terms with a disastrous, chaotic and slowly overwhelming possessiveness. And of course, feelings are never easy to deal with, when Hannibal is involved. A smut character study in three acts exploring Will's possessiveness.

(Top!Will my beloved. Don't let the title fool you, this was so fun to read and I love the community for wanted criminals idea. And possessive Will is always a treat ;)

》 Haunted by Anonymous (165k)(Explicit)

Still recovering from their fight with Dolarhyde, Will and Hannibal escape to New Orleans with Chiyoh's help. But Will is still struggling to accept Hannibal and his own darkness, something that Hannibal has every intention of helping him overcome...

(And finally I leave you guys with this monster of a fic. So sad that the author chose to go anon but if they somehow see this I hope they know how much I love this story. Will is struggling and Hannibal is an asshole at certain points but when is he not? Lots of references to Will's past too and some stuff about his mom that's very interesting)

I hope you guys enjoy these stories as much as I did. If you read any and want to discuss my messages and ask box are always open! ♡♡♡

[zenaidamacrouras1]

Clint/Bucky aka Winterhawk aka Clucky aka Barneston (?) Fic Recs

Yes I am an (unhinged understatement) Stucky writer but I have a soft spot for Bucky and Clint romantically. Particularly Comics Clint. Something about his crippling self esteem issues stemming from his abusive childhood combined with how deeply, deeply nice he is. In my favorite Clint characterizations, he isn't nice out of naivety, he always knows he's quite likely going to get screwed over for being so compassionate and forgiving, and he just does it anyway. It's really a lovely fatal flaw.

Anyway, shout out to everyone with fucked up abusive childhoods who got all the trauma and none of the circus skills! All of the baggage and none of the archery talent, you know?

So here are some things I love about them together:

So Clint is so chill around Bucky's grief but also deeply compassionate and also a slutty disaster and also funny. I think it's a really good mix for recovering Bucky to let his guard down and be soft.

Sometimes, in some universes, Bucky needs someone who is just as earnest but not as serious as Steve, you know? Clint is whimsical and the Winter Soldier needs a lil whimsy.

Typically, though not always, in fics when Bucky is paired with Clint the other otps are Clint+Natasha as deeply committed best friends/platonic soulmates and Bucky+Steve as deeply committed best friends/platonic soulmates, so it's just a whole deeply committed, devoted, platonic and romantic love situation that really works for me.

Winterhawk manifesto aside, here are some fics I liked presented somewhat at random.

Starving for the Light by thepartyresponsible

@thepartyresponsible hopefully this is the author and not a random person with the same name. Hi! I love your work! My notes: Beautiful modern magical world, beautiful details, beautiful healing. Exquisite levels Clint who is so competent and just not aware of how gifted he is but not in a cheesy way, just kinda heartbreaking till it isn't.

Here is another beautiful piece by the very same brilliant mind:

Got a Heart in Me, I Swear by thepartyresponsible

My notes: Sports AU! Baseball this time but you don't have to know baseball and beautiful characterization + competence remains the shining thing that made me want to eat it.

Redundancies by Noxnthea @noxnthea

My notes: What the fuck. I wanted to read this entire fic at the same time, but it wouldn't fit in my eyes all at once which is my only complaint, but it's a very severe complaint because it is so clever and good. Universe hopping. Must love Clint. All the good things about Clint being so fucking good. It's so sad in the way that makes you feel a deep love of the world and that maybe broken things can be beautiful and happy again, over and over?

Lost and Found by Mariana O'Connor @mariana-oconnor

My notes: Do you like werewolves? Trick question. Everyone likes werewolves. This is a lovely small town full of mysteries that Clint stumbles into. Obviously he starts rehabbing a hotel and taking care of orphans because he is just nice like that. Bucky can't keep away because, ugh, Clint stop being fascinating and competent and sexy. Bucky is only one man and also traumatized have you no respect?

Silhouette also by Mariana O'Connor @mariana-oconnor

My notes: YOU GUYS. Very slow build spy adventure time if you like spy adventure and heists mixed with pining because your mortal enemy is 1. Sexy and 2. Competent. Also Natasha is the best friend and Steve is the best friend. We travel the world. Action scenes. Everyone is so sexy. And competent. I can't make this clear enough. Sexy little mysterious post cards appear in the mail.

Perfect Tense by shatteredhourglass @shatteredhourglass

My notes: Ronin Clint thinks he's irredeemable, but he can't stop having sex with Bucky Barnes. Who hasn't been in this situation? Bucky is very angrily bandaging up Ronin Clint's stupid wounds again, ugh, gah, seriously, surely all this hurt/comfort plus admiration for Clint's combat skills won't lead to falling in love? Feelings, action, intrigue.

Funny story I wanted to include a fic where Bucky kidnaps Clint but y'all there are SO MANY fics where Bucky kidnaps Clint and I can't remember which one. I bet they are all good so maybe I'll do a follow up with like, top ten fics where Bucky kidnaps Clint and they fall in love.

[smehur]

Drarry fic recs #6

[podfic] Kill, Fuck, Marry written by @lettersbyelise and read by @timothysboxers

Malfoy leans toward him with a baleful look. “I do believe Pansy Parkinson, my best friend, paid you to spend the evening with me. It’s my birthday, Potter. So you’re going to get off your Gryffindor arse, and you’re going to dance with me. I want to dance. I want to win. I want that bloody trophy on my shelf before the end of the night.” Harry and Draco unexpectedly meet again on Draco’s birthday, years after their last encounter.

A delightful fic and a phenomenal reading! There are few things I love more than ex-rivals Harry and Draco discovering they actually enjoy each other's company, especially when it's done with such humor. The game of kill, fuck, marry was hilarious, and so was the dancing. And Draco's final birthday wish, well. 🔥 A phrase seen in many stories but rarely delivered with quite that much cheek. I'm all smiles and biting lips just thinking about it. 10/10 would read/listen again.

ready, able by @garagepaperback

“Well, even if we went through with it, it wouldn’t work. But thanks for the grand heroic rushing in. A certain element of purity is needed to break it." Malfoy licks his lips, "You’d have to be a virgin.” Harry keeps every muscle on his face particularly still, hoping it looks to Malfoy as absolutely blank as it feels to him. Half a minute passes. “No,” Malfoy, already doing a poor job of sitting normally on his chair, bends in half, nearly falling out of it. He’s laughing. “No, Potter, no. No- don’t- you’re twenty-five years old!” “And?” Harry asks, heat staining his face. - Malfoy has a problem, Harry wants to help.

Apart from being captivating, tantalizing and touching, this story is also an interesting (and, for this reader, unique) take on the fuck-or-die trope, which I'll generally read "for fun" but will only take "seriously" if it's somehow challenged and reshaped till choice reasserts itself. Like in this fic! Which, on top of everything, (spoiler alert!) ends with one of the hottest sex scenes in my HP reading so far. Truly exquisite. 👌

Savage by @marguerite26

In a post-war world that lives in fear and ignorance of werewolves, Draco Malfoy has taken every step to keep his condition hidden. When the delicate balance of his life shatters in a single moment, it is Harry Potter alone standing in his defence.

Another instance where excellent fic managed to sell me a trope I'm not a fan of: werewolves! It's a phenomenal story, with an interesting, political plot, excellent pacing, flawless characterization and steaming hot sex. What more could one hope for?

Virtuous by @heyjude19-writing

Draco is only sin inverted.

I loved this short piece down to the last word. It's so multifaceted! At face value, it's a confession of an unredeemed Draco, but is he? Is he really? Or did "fake it till you make it" work a little better than he expected? I'm fascinated by this because it touches on the question of whether a person can really change, which is, obviously, central to Drarry. Does a selfish motivation behind an act of kindness make the act less kind? I don't know the answers. But I do so enjoy fic that asks the questions!

Draco in Darkness by plumeria47

Following an accident in his seventh year, Draco loses his eyesight. After Harry elbows his way into Draco's dark world, both boys find themselves in a strange new friendship, and they each learn new ways to see each other … and themselves.

This story is very old and predates the canon ending of the series (thus missing out on a lot of canon Drarry content that would've made it even better). It's also a bit old-fashioned, compared to the fic I mostly read these days, and it triggered some of my technical pet peeves. Yet it hooked me within the first few paragraphs, and I grew to love it with a slow-burn passion. Draco's sudden disability is depicted in a very straight-forward, matter-of-fact, incredibly effective yet sensitive way; and his manner of coping with it is perfectly in character. Meanwhile, Harry is blind in his own way, which helps build the tension but never crosses the line of being too contrived. I had so many feels reading this. It's just beautiful, warts and all.

As always, my heartfelt thanks to the authors of these, and all other lovely stories shared within this amazing fandom, and to the readers helping spread the word. 🥰

[f1tyreslightmyfyre]

Immortal Artistry - Ch. 5

Series Main List

A Vampire AU F1 Fic Featuring Charles Leclerc x Fem!Reader, George Russell x Fem!Reader, hints of Max Verstappen x Fem!Reader, Lestappen, Sebchal, and Sainzell (or Russainz?)

Also on AO3

Ch. 5 Warnings: Explicit sexual content; language; stalker behavior; abduction; vampire blood violence and thrall; WWII references to Hitler and Nazi regime; non-graphic violence, murder and death

2023

You draft back to consciousness. A soft pillow rests beneath your head. A warm blanket surrounds you. A heavenly mattress cushions you. Blinking your eyes open, you swear that you float on a cloud, except…. 

The bedroom’s unfamiliar surroundings fill you with immediate dread. Exhaustion gnaws at every muscle, but your fight-or-flight response still engages. Especially as the alarming memories of the coffee shop return in full force - remembering George and his… teeth. Remembering Max just suddenly being there and then… now, you’re here…

If only you knew where here is. The furniture speaks to opulent luxury and exquisite taste, even down to the plush carpet that greets your feet as you sit up. A wave of dizziness makes your head swim as you get your bearings, and your gaze lands on a glass of orange juice sitting on the bedside table. 

Orange juice… and not water?

Curiosity compels you to lean forward, hovering your nose over the glass’ contents. The sweet aroma of juicy citrus perfumes the air, and your confusion only grows. Why of all liquids is orange juice resting on the bedside table?

Your ears catch up with the rest of your senses, and you turn towards the cracked bedroom door. The soft, elegant notes of a piano float from somewhere beyond, just barely audible in the silence of the bedroom. Standing up, you draw an uneasy breath as your body feels weak. You have no idea what time it is or when you last ate, but it doesn't appear that you’re locked in, so maybe you can escape. 

The door swings wide on a silent hinge, and the hallway beyond matches the same elegant taste as the bedroom. A grand staircase extends from the end of the hallway, and you follow it down on plush carpet as the piano music grows steadily louder. 

When your feet touch the marble landing, your stomach drops as you recognize everything about the interior of the opulent, classy main floor. It takes you instantly back to your dream - or fuck, the not dream - the last time that you saw Charles. To when… fuck, was that seriously just last night?

You gasp for breath as the room starts to spin, raising a hand to your head to brace yourself. 

The piano music dies as an all-too familiar silky voice calls out. “Careful, cara mia. You should still be resting.” 

Drawing a deep breath through your nose and exhaling out your mouth, you force your eyes open only to see… him.

Charles sits on the gleaming white piano bench, turned towards you with a soft, concerned smile. A white dress shirt highlights the lean build of his torso and rolled sleeves showcase the elegant planes of his forearms. Dark suit trousers hug his legs above bare feet, and coupled with the devil-may-care style of his hair… it’s - 

No man should be allowed to look so criminally handsome.  

You give a bewildered shake of your head. “I don’t… I’m too tired to rest.” Again, you scrub a hand across your forehead and down your face, feeling the ache in your temples increase. 

“Did you drink the orange juice?” 

You hang your head with a gentle shake. “No - what kind of idiot do you take me for? Drinking an unknown drink when I don’t even know where I am?” 

A shadow moves off to your left, and your eyes dart up to suddenly see Charles standing alongside you. How had you not even heard him move? Or heard the scrape of the piano bench against the floor? 

“You’ve been through a lot - too much, I suppose. But that just speaks to your strength.” Charles continues softly as a cool, solid hand falls to your shoulder. “That doesn’t mean you should overdo it, though.” He guides you forward, and you can’t summon the strength to resist.

With a sigh, you drop to sit on a cushy couch that has no right to be so inviting. Blinking heavy eyelids up at him, goodness… Charles is stunning. Golden light catches in the waves of his hair and shines in the emeralds of his eyes. He radiates breezy confidence, an oasis of calm in the muddled desert that has become your life. 

He gives your shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “Will you be alright if I leave you here? I really do think orange juice would help.” 

“As long as…” you sigh as you swallow nervously. “Only if you promise it’s not poisoned.” 

“I promise it’s not poisoned.” With another gentle squeeze of your shoulder, his touch disappears as he moves away from you. “I don’t have any reason to wish you dead. If I did, you would still be in that coffee shop with George.” 

The memories replay in the back of your mind as anxiety clenches your stomach. “Then, why am I here?”

Your question lingers unanswered as Charles disappears for – not even the space of a breath. Your brow furrows at the sudden appearance of a glass of orange juice in his hand, and… okay, maybe your brain is just really too tired to even see straight. 

The glass is cold against your fingertips and the pulpy liquid is admittedly refreshing. The sugary liquid hits your empty stomach and a burst of energy warms your stomach. 

Charles wears a patient and satisfied expression as you take another hearty drink. “See?” He prompts. “Not poisoned.”

Embarrassed heat rises in your cheeks. “Sorry. It’s not that I don’t trust you, but-”

“I haven’t given you any reason to trust me, and if I were you, I probably wouldn’t, either.” He cuts you off as he joins you on the couch and levels you with a serious stare. “But it’s time to fix that.”

A chill races along your skin, rippling down your spine. Something about him reminds you of George, of that predatory glow in his eyes. Your fingers tighten around the glass as unwanted memory flashes in your mind.

“Were you this frightened for Charles, hmm?” George cooed. “I can’t imagine how he resisted you…”

Your other hand rises to your throat as if to protect it. “… What was George going to do to my neck?”

“Bite you, of course.” Charles answers without pause, his tone light despite the gravity of his words. “I hadn’t wanted to tell you outright what we are. At face value, the truth is quite dismissible – laughable, even. But, well… George saved me the trouble, I suppose.”

You turn to him with wide eyes. “He was going to bite me? With those unnaturally pointed teeth of his? Like, what… like a vamp– ”

The word dies in your throat as Charles’ smile widens to reveal fangs – honest-to-God fangs - of his own. Razor sharp canines that dwarf the surrounding teeth and glint in the golden light like a knife’s edge.

Your mind slams into overdrive as the impossible truth stares you in the face. “That…” you trail off as you struggle to make sense of it. “That’s why you needed the late night meeting… that’s why I’ve only ever seen you at night. And Max, too. And -” You shake your head as you recall every time that you have seen George - in the hours after sunset, in the time before sunrise. “And the… what did you call it? Hypnosis?” You turn back to Charles, thankful to see his fangs hidden away. “That’s your thrall, isn’t it?” 

Charles’ gaze sharpens with a shrewd edge. “That’s just one name for it. Bram Stoker didn’t get everything right, but he certainly knew enough.” 

You gulp heavily at the implication. “Does that mean I’m under your spell? Or rather, Max’s spell…? That I’m… forced to do his bidding whenever he wants?” 

“The effects of our hypnotic hold over mortals is temporary unless there’s a blood exchange. And since he hasn’t bitten you, you two don’t share that connection unless he’s present.” 

“So, if George had…” A shuddering breath leaves you as your stomach rots. “If he had bitten me, then I’d now be trapped under his spell?” 

“Whether he would have hypnotized you tonight or not, I cannot say - but whenever he chose to, it would be much easier for him to do so. And me - or Max, for that matter - would be unable to help you.” 

“Because I would be his?” 

Charles nods his head. “Because you would be his.”

Something about that thought… isn’t completely revolting. George, the man - err, vampire - is certainly handsome and quite charming. But it still doesn’t make sense. You take another sip of the orange juice, reaching forward to set the glass down on the coffee table. “But I guess I don’t understand why he would want to make me his. He…” 

“But Charles gave it to you.” George pressed. “You have it, don’t you? Xavier didn’t have it.” 

Anxiety knots your stomach as you turn back to Charles, glimpsing the glittering light dancing in his green eyes. “George asked me if you gave me something. Something that Xavier didn’t have.” Your gaze narrows pointedly. “He was talking about my boss, right? Were you supposed to give him something that night, but you met with me instead?” 

Charles’ gaze hardens. “Xavi already knew what I had to give him, and I knew that my meeting wasn’t with him.” 

“Then, are you able to tell George that I don’t have it? Whatever it is… then he can leave me alone, and you two can sort it out.” 

Charles’ soft chuckle cracks a smile on his face. “I’m afraid the game is far too old for that. We each have our chess pieces and we play them as opportunity allows.” His eyes narrow in open assessment, heat growing on your skin as he looks you up and down. “He was trying to make you into his own personal chess piece, but fortunately, Max has been keeping a close eye on you.” 

“Is that meant to be reassuring?” You scoff. “You say that George wants to turn me into his chess piece - well, how do I know that you and Max aren’t trying to do the same?” 

“Who says we aren’t?” 

Your blood runs cold as shivers ripple down your spine. You stare back, wide-eyed and stunned as your mouth goes dry. “So, you’re… you’re going to… bite me?” 

“It’s the offer on the table.” Charles says with a business-like calm. “If George is convinced of some fact and wants you on his side - with or without your permission - then, Max thought we would offer you the choice.” 

You gulp, glancing around the expansive room. “And is he here? Max…?” 

A private smile curls the corner of Charles’ mouth. “He’s never too far away.” 

Nothing about that is anymore comforting, and you take a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves. “Okay… so, according to you - I have two options: join George’s team or join your team?” 

“If you must simplify it so plainly, then yes.” 

“Then, why don’t you explain it to me?” 

Charles arches a defiant brow. “Do you really think that would make you safer?” 

“Do you think it would place me in any more danger?” You shake your head sharply with another scoff. “I don’t have the first fucking clue about any of this and already I’ve met three vampires - possibly more - and one of them has attacked me, while another one has hypnotized me, and now, you’re… you’re…” 

You don’t know what exactly. Your thoughts are too jumbled and Charles isn’t speaking clearly enough for you to piece the big picture together. 

“I really thought you were smarter than that.” George urged. “Smart enough to see through him… to see that what he’s doing is just wrong.”

With another deep breath, you swallow your rising anxiety. “How do I know your team is the right one to join, hmm?” You arch a challenging brow. “How do I know that you’re not the villain in this game of chess?” 

The look in Charles’ eyes suddenly ages him decades older than his youthful countenance. “Heroes and villains are constructs of the mortal world, cara mia. Fanciful concepts to paint the world in white and black, and right and wrong.” He pauses as a wickedly tempting smile lights his face. “But immortality offers a world of grey and endless opportunity to make your way.” 

“That doesn’t exactly help your case, you know.” 

“I know, and I’m not trying to build a case.” He nods towards you. “Whether or not you like it, or whether or not you know why, you’re caught in the middle. And if you want control of the choice, then you will make it tonight.” 

Frustration tightens the line of your jaw. “Then why don’t you just tell me what I’m caught in the middle of, and then I can make an informed decision.” 

“I fear telling you outright would only raise suspicion. Especially if you are, as of yet… unclaimed.” 

You arch a brow as your stomach drops to your feet. “Unclaimed…? You said nothing about claiming me.” 

“It’s, err - maybe not the best choice of word.” A sheepish look flashes across his face. “But after a blood exchange, our hypnotic hold intensifies and…evolves. It forms a sort-of mental connection between us and our chosen thrall, but the thrall is not completely independent of free-will. It’s…” He trails off with a sigh and another sheepish grin. “It’s not easy to explain, actually.” 

You stare at him, still unable to believe it. “How… how long have you been alive?” 

“I’ve been undead since 1940.” 

“1940…? Shit, that’s… World War II.” 

Slowly, he nods. “Yes, it was.” 

“Did you fight?” 

His gaze finds yours, mesmerizing and keen. ��Quite personal questions, don’t you think?” 

You shrug gently. “You said it was time to change the fact that I don’t trust you. If George was going to just… take me in that coffee shop tonight, then maybe you… you can just give it to me, instead? If that makes sense…?” 

Something sparks in Charles’ eyes, and really… it’s fucking unfair how edible he looks. His tongue darts out to wet his top lip and you’re helpless not to follow the motion. “I did fight,” he starts softly. “Monaco - still my home, even then - remained neutral throughout the war, but 800 men were mobilized in support of French forces when war broke out in 1939.” He pauses as his eyes gloss over with distant memory. “By May 1940, the Nazis were sweeping the continent and our forces had nowhere to go except for Dunkirk.” 

Your breath catches. “Dunkirk…? The Dunkirk evacuation?” It sounds too unreal to possibly be real. “You were there?” 

“I never made it that far.” Charles says with a short shake of his head. “My sire found me in the woods as we marched towards the coast. I suppose you could say he saved me the trouble of worrying about a boat ride when he transformed me.” 

“Is that what you call it?” You wave a hand as if the motion somehow captures everything about Charles’ words. “When you turn into a… vampire? A transformation?” 

“That, too, has many names - but that is what I prefer to call it.” 

Again, your hand rises to your neck in a protective gesture and your thumb sweeps over your pulse. “Were you given the choice? By your - what did you call him - sire?” 

The corner of Charles’ mouth tightens. “No, I wasn’t. And no - I won’t explain his reasoning.” 

“I wasn’t going to ask. That just seems…” You’re not sure exactly what to say. It seems wrong that Charles wasn’t given a choice on whether to become immortal or not. But, then again, how do you actually answer a question like that? Either way, it’s far too personal to ever be any of your business. 

Silence stretches between you, and thankfully, he doesn’t press you. Why would he? The man - the vampire - literally has forever to wait. You, on the other hand… fuck, you still have to go to work tomorrow. You still don’t have a boss, you still don’t have a clue what Charles was supposed to give Xavier that George wants, and… you don’t even have a clue how late it is. 

You turn back towards Charles. “If you bite me - if I let you - what do I get out of it?” Even as the words leave your tongue, they still sound impossibly ridiculous. Vampires just aren’t real… yet you can’t deny all the proof before your eyes. 

“A fair question.” Charles acknowledges. “I suppose you could call it protection… or, at least, subliminal awareness of each other. A connection that could alert me to your distress or future danger. A connection that could lead me to where you are, in case you’re captured.” 

The orange juice roils in your gut. “None of that sounds reassuring.” 

“No?” He echoes even as the corner of his mouth lifts. “Nothing reassuring about having me as your own personal guardian angel?” 

“Not if that also turns me into a piece on your chessboard.” 

“Then, it doesn’t have to be me.” His smile widens with a teasing, suggestive slant. “As I recall, you were indeed quite taken with Max.” 

Your cheeks heat with an embarrassed flush, especially since you’re not able to conjure any concrete memory of being ‘quite taken’ with Max. Just what exactly had you done? Or what had you said? “I don’t… that’s not…” You struggle for words, hoping it’s not obvious to him. “You… or him - that’s not the -” 

“Or it could be both of us.” 

Unwanted thoughts flood your brain. Dear Lord, what would it be to have the two of them together? Images of a cliche dark room, four-poster bed and blood-red sheets dance in your mind. Tangles of lean hips and strong arms, thick brunette curls and lush sandy locks surround you as you’re caught in the push and pull between them. Rivulets of blood decorate your skin, weeping from matching puncture wounds as they own your body, inside and out. 

A different heat stirs in your blood - a demanding heat that gathers between your legs, unstoppable even in the face of life-threatening danger and utter confusion. 

Charles purrs low in his throat. “Exquisite, cara mia.” 

Mortified heat burns your cheeks. “No, no - I don’t-” 

“Your lying words cannot mask the scent of your blood.” He pauses to draw a deliberate, deep inhale. “And yours heats with such… delectable promise.” 

“It’s nothing, it’s - “ You cut yourself off as another thought dawns. “Do you not wish that I was more scared? I thought… well, George made it sound like fear… was the most delicious?” 

A low, throaty chuckle rumbles in Charles’ chest. “I suppose it depends on one’s preference. If you liken fear to dark chocolate and desire to a lush fruit - they both can make for an exquisite treat while being quite different.” 

“And your preference?” Your words come far breathier than you would like as your heart gallops. 

Charles’ eyes darken as his smile widens. “If I wanted you scared,” he says carefully as he slowly raises a hand, brushing a knuckle down the outside of your arm in a gentle caress. “We would be having a much different conversation.” 

His touch speaks to the traitorous arousal curling at the base of your spine, and god… why is this so hard? You force a swallow down your dry throat. “So, you w-would rather…” 

“I would rather have you melting in my lap, whimpering with desire, and soaking through my trousers,” his voice doesn’t falter as he holds you with a gaze that leaves no room for doubt. “If you choose me, that is.” 

“A-and Max…?” You manage to say around your heavy breathing. “H-he wouldn’t mind if you… if we-” 

“Max is indeed very special to me - more so than any mortal. But he and I are not…” Charles trails off as a predatory gleam sharpens his enticing smirk. “Exclusive.” 

Fuck, that does absolutely nothing to help. Your body continues to run away from the protests of your mind, not helped by the teasing caress of his nimble fingers. A shiver ripples across your skin as you fight for clarity. “You’re not playing fair.” 

Another delicious chuckle sounds in Charles’ throat. “No, I’m not, am I? One is never too old - or undead - to not press their advantage.” His hand turns against your arm and his fingertips brush the exposed skin of your forearm. A shuddering sigh passes your lips as his chilly touch races more shivers through you. Your thighs clench together with aching need, unable to understand the strong reaction of your body. 

Your breath catches in your throat as the sofa dips under his shifting weight. The heady weight of his thigh brushes yours, and an intoxicating scent reaches your nose… fucking fuck, why does he have to smell so good? You want to chase the spicy, woodsy scent across his skin, to breathe it deep in your lungs. Your eyes drop closed as it invades your senses, further fogging your brain. 

Charles’ fingers dance around your wrist, stroking the thin, tender skin covering the major blood vessels beneath. “You still have a choice, cara mia.” His voice washes over you like rich syrup. “You just need to tell me what you want.”  

Whatever resistance your mind can summon drowns under the urgent rush of blood pounding in your ears, and… at least, this is on your terms. Mostly. With a trembling breath, you slowly nod. “Y-yes… alright.” 

He growls low in approval. “I’m honored, cara mia.” He gives your wrist a gentle squeeze before threading his fingers over the back of your hand and interlacing them together. 

You squeeze his hand, finding more reassurance in his touch than you ever expected despite the chilly temperature of his skin. Again, he shifts closer to you, and your heart races as he looms over you - so controlled, so dark, so fucking gorgeous. 

“Breathe for me,” he whispers in a velvet pur. “Just breathe.” 

You draw a deep breath, trying to steady the pounding of your heart. Can he hear it? Does he know how it threatens to beat out of your chest?  

The cool press of his nose against your cheek makes you gasp and involuntarily arch into his touch. Every part of your body responds to his close presence and cries out for more, so much more. 

“That’s it,” he coos, nuzzling down the line of your jaw as you helplessly tilt your head. “You are such a treasure.” 

A whimper passes your lips as you drown under his voice. His lips dance along the column of your throat and you squeeze his hand, rewarded when he tightens his grip in response. 

His teeth slice through your skin like butter. The sharp, invasive pain lances through you and a gasping cry lodges in your throat. His lips seal around the wounds, and pleasure slams through you as he draws your blood. Your body twitches against the couch in desperate need, moaning with abandon as mindless euphoria overtakes you. You cling tight to his hand, lost to everything that floods your body as he takes another long, slow drink. Your other hand finds the silky locks of his hair, holding him close, grasping for contact - for leverage to get your body closer to his. 

The piercing sting of his teeth withdraws and a needy whimper pitches high in your throat. A bereft sense of loss spreads through you, and you cling tighter to him, trying to chase that delicious high. His tongue finds your skin, dragging over the twin punctures with solid, steady strokes that do nothing to quell the inferno raging inside you. 

You don’t recognize the sound of your own ragged breathing as he continues to lick and nuzzle at your skin. You also don’t recognize the light-headed dizziness that dances in your head, nor how you seem to be floating six feet above the couch. Or, at least, that’s what it feels like. 

And you haven’t even orgasmed. Or, at least, you don’t think so. 

Charles gives your hand a gentle squeeze as it relaxes in his grip. “Thank you, cara mia.” He nuzzles your jaw with a satisfied hum. “I don’t think you’ll regret your decision.” 

“Wha…” The word dies on your tongue, slurred as you struggle to think through the sensations overloading your body. 

Charles shushes you gently, pressing a wet, sticky kiss to your cheek. “You should rest. I understand the first time is… quite intense.” Another press of his lips follows as your eyelids grow heavy and darkness cuts the corners of your mind. “That’s it, cara mia. Rest now, and I’ll see to it that you get home.” 

1944

The sounds of the cavern deafen him. Max still isn’t used to his heightened hearing and each drip of water, each scrape of pebbles against stone, each whistle of wind grates on his nerves. He doesn’t consider patience to be one of his strengths, but at least, he doesn’t need a torch in this godforsaken underground labyrinth. 

“There’s nothing here, Charles.” He says without preamble as they take in the dark stone surroundings. “The soldier lied to us.” 

“Can you blame him?” Charles counters, unbothered by Max’s irritation. His smile still glints in the damp darkness and his eyes glow with the thrill of exploration. Max can’t explain why Charles’ breathtaking beauty continues to stun him, but he finds himself falling all over again. Charles blinks down to the ground, scuffing at a small puddle as he continues. “I’m glad there is nothing stored here, though. This humid environment would be terrible for the artwork.” 

Max snorts before he can stop himself. “It’s remarkable how much you care - actually care - about the artwork.” 

“It’s clear the Nazis only see it as a means to an end, or a bargaining chip.” Charles says, his voice echoing off the stone cave. “Just because we haven't heard of them ransoming treasures doesn’t mean that it’s not happening.” 

“Why ransom when they can just sell?” Max scoffs. “Or take it for free and turn a profit? Nothing has stopped them yet.” 

“Nor will it.” Charles agrees as he looks back over at Max in the darkness. “Not until they consume everything worth consuming.” 

Dripping water echoes off the stone walls and cold humidity eats at their skin, but when Charles holds him with such a tender gaze, Max finds it hard to care about anything else. His feet crunch against loose stone and earth as he steps close to Charles and wraps his chilled fingers in a gentle handhold. “Is it a bad joke to say that your fingers feel as cold as death?” 

The corner of Charles’ mouth ticks up. “That is most definitely a bad joke, but we are undead men together so that shouldn’t bother you.” 

“I never said it did.” Max gives Charles’ hand a squeeze as he hums low in his throat. “In fact, quite the opposite. It’s hard to steal time away with you, you know.” 

An endearingly modest smile takes over Charles’ face. “There is a war going on, you know? Even for immortals, opportunity waits for no one.” 

Max nearly rolls his eyes. “You sound like Seb.” 

“Perhaps you should learn to listen better to him.” Charles’ voice drops to a silky, deliberately teasing register. “We both owe him a lot.” 

“I don’t owe him shit.” Max says, raising his other hand to Charles’ chin and pressing against the delicate skin to raise the other man’s head. “When I lay there dying - when I begged for help - you were the only one. Not any of those soldiers, not Seb - you.” 

“I’m still sorry that I couldn’t give you the choice.” 

“Stop apologizing for that. I asked for help and you helped - simple as that.” 

Fond appreciation warms Charles’ mesmerizing eyes before he leans it and effortlessly slots his mouth to Max’s. The kiss transcends words, stirring the passion and possession that overtakes them both during stolen moments together. Arousal heats Max’s frigid veins as Charles’ tongue pries at the seam of his lips and their embrace deepens. A low growl pitches in Max’s throat as they devour each other. 

Opportunity may wait for no one, but surely Max can take time to press Charles against the uneven stone, to hear his ragged moans echo in the cavern, to let their bodies chase pleasure together in the dark underground.

An answering growl stirs in Charles’ chest and Max abandons Charles’ chin to skim his fingers down the pale column of his neck. He rolls his hips forward, pressing them tight to Charles with shameless abandon. “Let me have you,” Max breathes into Charles’ mouth. “Let me fuck you raw.” 

“Oh, fuck,” Charles gasps as his hips match Max’s with an answering thrust. “That would feel so good right now.” 

“Better than good.” Max murmurs, nipping along Charles’ lips. “I’ll make you-” 

“There’s something happening on the road.” Seb’s voice echoes in the stone chamber, slicing through the lustful fog. “Get out here. Now.” 

Frustration stabs Max in the chest, but once he separates from Charles, he can understand that this isn’t necessarily the most appropriate moment. But, dammit, they’ve been searching the cavernous underworld beneath the multitude of mountain ranges in the Northern Limestone Alps for weeks now. Each major retreat of Nazi squadrons narrows the search. Each desperate attempt by men on the losing side to thwart the forward advance of the victors yields more clues. 

They’re so close to the Nazi central storage location, Max can almost taste it. 

In the moment, though, he only has the fading memory of Charles’ kiss lingering on his tongue as they navigate their way out of the cave. If the diehard Nazi troops in the region are stirring up a scene at this late hour, then it must truly be something noteworthy. 

The glow of moonlight blinds him for an instant as his eyes adjust and he surveys the scene on the road. A truck trundles along the rutted path without headlights, but the glow of one lone torch hangs out the passenger window. Usually, the Nazi troops don’t try to hide their presence - with a string of labor camps near Ebensee and confirmed rumors of Nazi stockpiles near Totes Gebirge - they all but own the surrounding Salzkammergut Mountains. However, the men in this truck clearly don’t wish to be seen - even by their own kind. 

Charles crouches low, squinting into the distance. “Now where could they possibly be going at this hour?”

Seb tilts his head as he stares at the truck. “Somewhere they don’t want anyone to see.” 

“Then, they shouldn’t use a truck.” Max says with a shake of his head. “They’d be less conspicuous on foot.” 

“This road is so rural,” Seb counters. “There’s no one that they would expect to find here.” 

Charles’ smirk gleams in the moonlight. “Except us.” 

Max matches his smirk. “Unlucky bastards.” 

They move in the night, swift as shadows and just as silent. Of all his heightened vampiric senses, the supernatural strength and agility that infused his muscles has to be Max’s favorite. While the sharpened vision and enhanced hearing are useful, when it comes to trailing their Nazi quarry… well, Max takes every advantage that he can get.  

It’s only when they close the distance, easily close enough to strike, that Seb comes to a deliberate stop. A stab of confused disappointment lances through Max as he stops in tandem silence with Charles, both glancing towards the older vampire. He doesn’t use words, but none of them need to. 

The soldiers tell their own story as they cluster around the shrouded, rocky outcropping at the base of the mountains. Seb calls this range Totes Gebirge - Dead Mountains - and Max has to agree it’s aptly fitting. The jagged, rocky surroundings support almost no vegetation and honestly, it’s going to be a suitable grave for these soon-to-be dead men. 

Between the atrocities he witnessed at home and the inhumane horrors of the Nazi camps, Max has no qualms about dispatching anyone who wears the swastika. And the longer he watches the group of six men stand around the rocks, the more his frustration grows. 

Seb turns towards him, silently raising a hand - a sign to stay calm, to hold position. Max may never have been a soldier given the Netherlands’ neutrality, but his time in the Resistance taught him plenty. He grits his teeth, running his thumb over the round, knobbed end of the spike dagger in his pocket. Despite the prowess of his physical strength and sharp teeth, he’s never broken the habit of relying on his dagger for the dirty work often required in spycraft. 

Like Seb, he turns his attention back to the soldiers, watching as three of them turn and disappear into the shadows of the mountain… into a cave, he realizes. The situation turns more curious as voices raise in clear disagreement, in clear alarm and anger. When the men return, two of them labor under a heavy load. Their backs stoop low as they manhandle a long, curved tube, a tube… outfitted with aerial fins. 

Charles’ near silent gasp reaches his ears as realization hits him, too. It’s an aircraft bomb. Is this some secret Nazi weapon stockpile? Or are these men thieves in the night? It seems hard to believe such a small detachment would be out so late for an official supply run. Especially in a truck with no headlights. 

Seb’s fangs flash in the night, and the reasons for the soldiers’ presence hardly matters. He leads the stealthy charge forward, and Max follows with an eager willingness to spring into action. His spike dagger whispers in the darkness as the sharp end finds soft flesh and the solid knobbed end meets delicate skulls. 

As the last body falls and silence reigns supreme, it’s honestly annoying how loud humans are without even trying. Slipping the spike dagger back in his pocket, Max nudges one of the dead soldiers out of the way and crouches down to study the missile. Up close, the weapon’s precisely crafted shape betrays its true, lethal purpose. He shakes his head, knocking a knuckle against the metal casing with a dull metallic thud. “An airplane bomb,” he says, glancing up into the cave’s crudely-formed, dark opening. “How many more do you suppose they have in there?” 

Despite the rocky ground and loose pebbles, Charles moves on near-silent footsteps. “Only one way to find out. Though, why would they store such arms here and not in a depot… there’s not an airfield within kilometers of here. Nor a factory.” 

“Animals on the run grow desperate,” Seb says as he studies the mouth of the cave opening. “And they seldom use logic. With the Allied advance bearing down on them, I don’t doubt that they’re hiding what they can wherever they can, even if there’s no rationale to it.” 

Max pushes to his feet. “If this is really where they’re storing missiles, then it hardly seems efficient to have such a small crew carry them out one by one.” 

“And in the dead of the night,” Charles continues. “In a vehicle where they refused to use the headlights… perhaps they were planning a secret bombing run?” 

Seb snorts as he ducks to enter the opening and his voice echoes off stone. “That sounds too fantastical for the Nazis. Soldiers stealing bombs and planes in an act of sedition.” 

Affront wrinkles Charles’ brow as Max walks to the opening and crouches down to follow Seb inside. “Well, what else would you call it?” Charles continues as he crouches down next to Max’s side. “Taking just one missile won’t change the course of war, non - but dropping just one bomb? The right bomb, on the right target could disrupt, demoralize, deorganize...”

Seb chuckles softly as the dark stone interior closes around them and the air grows stale. “By that logic, we should take that bomb and drop it on Hitler ourselves, yes?” 

“Then, why don’t we?” Max hears himself answer as faint light glistens in mineral crystals as they descend the subterranean tunnel. “That’s what I’ve said since the beginning - there’s nothing stopping us from just getting close and hitting him and his men in the dead of night. Let’s end this now.” 

“It’s never that simple.” Seb counters with a scolding shake of his head. “Exposing our kind to the world like that… for the humans, ignorance is bliss. And we are the guardians of the truth’s ugliness.” 

The air grows heavy with briny salt as they move deeper into the mountain, boots crunching against the hard rock. Charles hums low in his throat. “The price of immortality, non?” 

Truthfully, Max has little patience when Charles and Seb wax poetically about the state of mortals and immortals. Despite whatever philosophical ideas they entertain about truth and beauty and everything between - it changes nothing about the here and now. It bends none of the rules that Max supposedly has to follow. It alters nothing about the state of his undead existence or the fate of mortals who wage their horrendous war and steadily march towards self-destruction. 

The ground slopes away, suddenly steeper under his feet, and distracts his focus. They brace against the rocky, jagged walls, slowing their steps as they approach a wall… a wall where the tunnel ends? Or perhaps it continues through the narrow, carved opening.  

Max eyes the opening in the wall ahead cautiously. “I don’t like that this is beginning to feel like a trap.” 

“A trap makes no sense,” Seb rationalizes, crouching down to study the dramatically shorter tunnel opening. “Why would the Nazis trap themselves, hmm?” 

“Why wouldn’t they plant booby traps to keep others out, hmm?” Max counters sharply. “Perhaps that’s what that bomb was, yeah? Protecting something else that they didn’t want others to discover?” 

Charles’ eyes brighten with intrigue. “And why not? The salt in the air creates a much more stable environment for storage. Perhaps this is a hidden weapons depot or a… a treasure storage.” 

“Only one way to find out.” Seb braces a hand against the shorter tunnel opening and moves forward, knees bent and back hunched as he disappears into the darkness. 

Max wets his top lip impatiently. “How long does it look, Seb?” 

A beat of silence passes with only a faint whistle of wind for company. His brow furrows with immediate concern. “Seb?” He calls out again, staring down at the tunnel opening as if willing the older vampire to emerge. 

Charles’ voice mimics his concern. “Seb? Is everything all right?” He kneels down, squinting into the opening and tilting his head with sudden curiosity. “Seb just… what is it?” 

Max crouches down, needing to see for himself - and discovering that the new tunnel was more just a narrow opening in the rock. Seb blocks the other side, clearly stunned and frozen by whatever sight lays on the other side. 

“Scheiße,” Seb breathes, his voice low. “This is… I just… I can’t believe what I’m looking at.” 

Both Charles and Max scramble for the tunnel entrance at the same time, and Charles squeezes in ahead of him. He pushes gently at Seb’s back, and the blonde vampire moves to let Charles come through with Max right behind him. Perched on a gently sloping ledge, an expansive salt cavern extends in front of them - something clearly mined by humans, something still occupied by humans. 

Or at least, human treasure. 

Crates upon crates, boxes upon boxes, stacks upon stacks, and piles upon piles of cultural riches lay before them. Artwork, books, statues, illustrations, tapestries - all hidden away from the world and ripe for discovery. Max doesn’t register his jaw dropping as he scans the sea of priceless treasures in front of him.

Is this it? Is this what they’ve been searching for? 

Charles lets out a breathless, incredulous laugh. “Mamma mia… there’s so much here! I don’t.. I don’t even know where to begin!” He runs a hand through his hair, wetting his top lip with eager excitement.

Seb shakes his head. “Perhaps you were right, Max,” he muses, glancing over with a fond smile. “Perhaps they were going to booby trap that entrance. Or perhaps they were just going to detonate anyway and forever bury this hoard of cultural wealth.” 

“I have to get down there.” Charles says, turning his gaze towards the ledge and testing his footing on the descent. “We can’t just let this all go to waste.” 

“We won’t.” Max agrees, following Charles into action and securing a handhold to work down the ledge. “If only the Nazis know this is here, we have the advantage. We can do as we please.” 

Seb’s smile curls in the darkness as he follows them down to the collection of artwork that will forever change their undead existence. “And we certainly will.”  

Series Main List

Tag List: @fictional-l0v3r @hollie911

[carnagechicken]

the Florida Panthers won the Stanley cup

and with that I have officially watched my first season of hockey.

I started as a fan of the penguins with an affection towards Flower as well. Now I’m ending the season a kraken fan, pens fan, flower fan and with more mattdrai interest than I expected.

The kraken stuff happened in mid April really suddenly, but ever since I started dabbling in hockey fandom in late 2021 I knew that becoming a kraken fan was going to happen eventually, a matter of when not if. Those beautiful jerseys, my love of cephalopods, and the team’s newness were strong draws but I still needed to have a special little guy to seal the deal. I discovered Adam Larsson in late march (thanks @angry-geno-is-score your fics* are brilliant<3) and what do you know that’s kraken hockey baby!

They’re probably going to be my main team next season. Still love the pens, their narratives are exquisite, but my brain wants kraken more.

(The mattdrai is a playoffs discovery that I fear I’ll never recover from. Leon’s disdain for the media and Matthew’s understanding that hockey is supposed to be theatre entertainment is *chef’s kiss*)

And with that here is a list, in no particular order, of some of notable things I saw this season,

: Tristan Jarry goalie goal!!! There was so much to like about this, the bench reaction, EK shaking Jars vigorously, Lars Eller going for a head boop and missing and then going for another one with more force, Ned trying to get Jars to skate over to do a fist bump line at the bench, Jars looking so bashful at the attention. :When Bryan Rust had that mustache and it was….kinda working. : Jeff Carter, the team Old Man that season, scoring like 3 breakaways and 2 short handed goals. : that shootout that went for 12 rounds (thank you Ned). : when Tanger got on all fours and started rocking back and forth in the locker room during Sully’s pre game speech (seriously wtf). : when Rusty scored in OT, had it waved off, and like ten seconds later scored again in a cooler way. : Sully becoming a grandpa<3. : when Jeff was a healthy scratch (the only time) and when he was asked about it was basically like ‘whatever, it doesn’t bother me, I just work here’. This was when I really started to like him btw. : Flower getting to 1000 games!! : Flower reaching the most wins!!! : kreider pulling out Matthew Tkachuk’s mouth guard and failing to throw it over the glass. : Florida beating Boston *again*. : that game were Sid got so pissed he screamed ‘no! No!’ at a ref so loud you could hear him over the crowd. He then proceeded to tell the ref ‘you fucked up’ :when Erik Karlsson made a mistake that sent the game to ot, scored in ot and then fell to his knees in relief. : that 10 to 2 victory over the sharks that was also Sid’s 1200 game. : sid scoring a goal off his ass. It had to happen one day : the pens ot win against vancouver back in Feb. The notable thing was that I was there with my dad and sisters <3

It's the little things that make hockey so fun!

Here's to a wonderful 24/25 season!

(*Seriously, if you haven't already, read Serenity in Those Deep Waters by @angry-geno-is-score on ao3, it's *fabulously* emotional and I can't recommend it enough)

[thenationaltreasuregazette]

Meet the Editor

Hi, I’m Rachel, the editor of the National Treasure Gazette!

As part of Treas-tober lmao I thought it would be fun to introduce myself. Since we’ve got a newspaper motif going I thought I’d, like, interview myself. Which is super normal I’m sure.

Why are you like this?

Great question! In 2004, at the tender age of 10, I had my brain chemistry rewired by a cinematic one-two punch of two of the greatest films of all time: Scooby Doo 2 Monsters Unleashed and National Treasure.

I had always liked stories, but SD2 was the first time it occurred to me that somebody actually wrote them. And maybe…I could write them. The hyperfixation hit HARD. That night I invented a fascinating new drug called fanfiction. It would be years before I learned that that was a thing and you could put it online for other people to read, but that didn’t stop me from writing it, and I took it so seriously.

As far as I was concerned I was writing what would become the real sequels to SD2 and NT. I spent fifth grade working on the Scooby Doo one (a god-awful self-insert fic with no plot to speak of) and sixth grade working on my own version of the as-yet-unrealized National Treasure 2. (Also a self insert.)

But these projects got me interested in writing. I started learning about story structure and screenplays, and for National Treasure I started reading more about history.

Specifically, for an open choice book report I read an entire adult-level book about American conspiracy theories and then presented to my class about the Skull and Bones society and other weird shit like that. I’m sure my teacher was thrilled.

What inspired you to start this blog?

My love for my two favorite nostalgic comfort movies stayed with me and I would periodically rant about them to my friends and loved once, who were very kind to humor me.

I’ve had plenty of other interests and hyperfixations throughout the years too, and one of them was CSI: Crime Scene Investigation. When I fell back down that rabbit hole in 2021, I happened upon the exquisite collection of asks and articles by @addictedtostorytelling. (Seriously, if you were ever even a little bit interested in the og CSI and haven’t discovered this, check it out.)

And I thought, well reading this is fantastic but it seems like even more fun to be the one writing the articles. What piece of media could I be, like, a subject matter expert in? Not one with a million think pieces already, just a casual place that I could have fun exploring at my own pace? National Treasure!

And then I put off making it for a year or two because I was sure I couldn’t keep up with it and it would become yet another dead project in my graveyard of notebooks, forever haunting me with the specter of what I could have accomplished.

But at some point I said, “fuck it” and here we are!

What are you proudest of, re: the blog?

That it exists! When I started I set a goal of posting 10 articles before I let myself give up on yet another thing. I definitely still don’t get to it much more often than I do, but now it’s not a ghost!

Also that there are other people who like it? I started this fully expecting to be rambling into the void, but I’m so thrilled that there are other people out there who are still thinking about National Treasure. We are few but mighty.

Do you have any takeaways from the project?

Yes! The fun of this isn’t in being a National Treasure expert, if such a thing exists. It’s about sitting with a movie and asking new questions. Every time I explore an article topic or get asked a question I learn something different about the movie, that I doubt it would have occurred to me to think about otherwise. And you my dear readers always challenge me to explore more.

I love paying that kind of attention again. I think the reason Monsters Unleashed and National Treasure will always be so special to me is because I did spend all that time sitting with them, exploring every nook and cranny and possibility I could find. I’ve missed that.

Do you have any plans for another blog like this?

Well I do have the url @the-coolsville-inquirer saved right now, but there are whole swaths of Doo lore I am unversed on, so no, no current plans.

What do you do when you’re not thinking about National Treasure?

I walk my dog, take pottery classes, work on my YA novel, watch movies for the movie club I’m in, try to learn Turkish, cook, and chip away at a million unfinished writing projects. (And you know, work and stuff).

What can readers expect in the future?

I have a few fun ideas left for Treas-tober and one very exciting art-related surprise the 20th anniversary. At least, I’m excited.

And I hope a few people participate in the fanworks week!

Oh babygirl it's almost thanksgiving.

At least one Riley article, really!

You would think I'd be starting to run out of things to say but actually the more I seem to find to talk about.

Thanks for enjoying the ride with me so far!

[booperbeanv3]

🔥 Dirkjake?

UNPOPULAR OPINION: ohhhhhhh my god dirkjake. *groans* there;s something deeply wrong with most dirkjake fans

okay so i like dirkjake. it's awesome. good dirkjake content is really good but BAD dirkjake content is REALLY FUCKING BAD two reasons

putting too much faith in Jake English

Trying to enhance Jake's vocabulary to sound less embarrassing; they're trying to make him too sexy, too romantic, too wistful and charming.

Like, that's who Jake WANTS you to believe he is. Congrats, you fell for the oldest trick in the book here.

Basically people are writing him to be smooth and adventurous when that's just the persona he wants to project to other people. Also, I think the teaboo fascination with exquisite English accents does not help this either. Even in recent fics I see him throw around stuff like "clementine" and shit. Just because him and Dirk are lovers now does not mean they'll stop their brospeak. TO ME.

Like I know Jake has more of this transatlantic thing going on and is therefore stuck in this little period of sexy Hollywood movies and stuff but like... *retch*. No one's actually gonna swoon for you if you pull out the "sugarplum" on them.

Speaking of,

2. too much ushy-gushy shit

Pumping up the prose with so much fucking purple it makes my lungs burst with lavender clouds. And all that sticky gooey shit, it's like hazing honey straight into my fucking trachea. This goes hand-in-hand with the first point because the stuffier the narrative, the stuffier the English.

"BUT IT'S ROMANTIC! Don't you love romance?"

Please. I'm suffocating under all this perfume here.

Like... You're taking this too seriously, mate. Chill out. Roll your shoulders back. I love a tragic love story, but melodrama isn't my thing.

[libroseitm]

I'm feeling kinda down lately, I'm sure I'm not the only one.

SO. Battle jackets on! I'm going to drum up some positivity for myself and pop it on here in case it helps anybody else too.

First I'm going to look at the last week of ofmd daily recaps from the wonderful and sensational @gentlebeardsbarngrill. I'd recommend looking back at these too, Abby does such an amazing job and they're great for a moral boost!

From these, I've seen in the last week alone:

.The trending tags we've caught: Rhys x3, Stede, Ed and Stede, #MerStedeMonday, #OurflagBBC, OurFlagMeansDeath x2, BOYFRIENDS.

.OFMD was mentioned or written about in 17 articles.

That's utterly insane and ya'll should be PROUD that we're still being so loud, and that we're still still being talked about. Articles don't get written for the lols, they get written for views. So clearly people think OFMD is still news worthy and that's hyping me the fuck up right now.

Next I'm looking at the simple things that I've done, and that I've seen other people do. These are things that help boost our numbers and moral, so if you've done any of these this week, give yourself a big ol' horse pat on the back:

.Watched OFMD

.Used the hashtags

.Talked to a friend

.Been silly in the Tumblr tags

.Made something (meme, fanart, crochet, fanfiction, a joke etc)

.Commenting on or kudosing a fanfiction

I've mostly been on twitter for campaign reasons. Here's some of the wonderful fanart I've seen that has been made in the last week alone:

Roach if he had stayed on the revenge in Kraken era

Mer!Ed finding a message in a bottle from Stede

Ed wearing the bird robe, lovingly smoochin' Stede

Ed cradling Stede's face inspired by the BTS underwater scene

Captain Frenchie updating Seagull!Buttons on the latest gos

As a last lil' boost, here are the gentlebeard fanfics I've recently read that I can highly recommend:

let me wash your worries away by anathxmadevice (checkmate)

.1,985 words .Mature

Stede is very overstimulated after a long weekend and unusre about what he wants. Ed helps him through in an intimate shower scene. The fic focusses on self-care and not fucking, for once in Ed and Stede's life. I'm obssessed with it.

Tooth Hurty by nomandsland

.2,538 words .Mature

Ed goes to the dentist with a cracked tooth. He's uncomfortable at the dentist's but get's horny about it this time around because his dentist is hot. I laughed all the way through this one :'D

but if I'm all dressed up (they might as well be looking at us) by mediocrepirate

.5,159 words .Explicit

This fic is delicious- plain and simple. Ed and Stede are at an awards event for Ed's music (yeah, he's a rockstar keep up). They're more than a little riled up and shenangans ensue. Mediocrepirate's writing is just exquisite and you are missing out if you haven't read at least one of their fics.

When life gives you lemons by anathxmadevice (checkmate)

.6,627 words .Explicit

Ed is enjoying, or at least trying to enjoy, retired life in the quiet town of Revenge. Life gets way more interesting when he discovers a lemonade stand, or rather, dicovers that lemonade stand kid has a hot dad. It's delightful, endearing and funny!

sunflowers in the kitchen by daydreamcrash

.7,2777 words .Explicit

Ed and Stede have a marriage kink. No seriously. Very funny, very hot, and gloriously domestic.

and the songbirds are singing like they know the score by mediocrepirate

.3,789 words .Teen and up

Stede takes care of Ed, focussing on non sexual intimacy. Did I mention that Mediocrepirates writing is wonderful already? Well I'm saying it again. This fic is so beautiful it HURTS.

[ultrakatua]

Smut game: give me three hottest paragraphs you’ve ever written. Doesn’t need to be from the same work.

Thank you for the ask!

Won't be the best, and won't be three haha

I think objectively the smut I wrote for Chamber Music is my best by a long shot, if only because it's the most recent, I edited it so much and the entire thing was an exercise at smut. But we've been there. So, this had me do the unthinkable for the sake of variety: reread my old shit.

(I cringed)

Also since I can't shut up I'll say that I've noticed a few things:

-I'm seriously seeing patterns I wish I could unsee

-all my smut is some degree of sloppy and messy

-ALL THE FLUIDS. ALL THE SMELLS (see above)

-also I like to write what I can't find, which lands extremely niche tropes or pairings

From oldest to newest

Some handjob from this claudeleth one (context is: she has no heartbeat and gets off listening to his)

She reached inside his pants and she moved her hand awkwardly around him, studying his length with her fingers. Claude gasped at the sudden contact. “It goes ‘Du-dum. Du-dum. Du-dum’,” Byleth murmured, ear pressed against his chest. If she sounded almost curious like a child, there was nothing ingenuous in her gestures. Byleth’s small hand didn’t have the delicacy of a maiden’s. Her skin was not soft, and her movements not gentle. However, no matter how awkward she was, she was earnest, and Claude found that the size of her fist was the perfect fit around his girth. He bit his lip to muffle his groans when she started to jerk him off slowly but, ear pressed against his hot skin, all she seemed to hear anyway was how his heart had suddenly skipped a beat. “Claude,” she whispered, “Claude, you sound like you are going to explode.” It seemed more and more likely indeed with every new twist of her hand. Claude was sure Byleth could even feel his pulse through the skin of his cock. The sound of his blood pulsating strongly in his ears was covering his own groans and the obscene slaps of Byleth’s hand working on his shaft, now so hard and wet it felt like an exquisite burn. Adrenaline melt with pleasure, and Claude’s mind drifted away. For long seconds, there was no more war, no more pain, no more anguish. And no more doubt either, not when the object of his year-long desire was doing her best to please him with her little hand while her lips were kissing and bitting his chest almost obsessively, as if she was trying to eat his heart out. Claude grabbed her hair too forcibly and he moaned obscenely, bucking his hips to meet her hand.

Whatever the hell this is (hate sex?) from a Jinmalos fic I left on anon for a reason (but there's literally 12 fics in the tag so fuck it)

Malos grabs the tip of his cock and he squeezes there with enough strength it cannot feel anything but uncomfortable. As placid he can look, he struggles to hide a grimace. “Come on,” he barks, still holding Jin’s face in place with the other hand. Jin hisses at the defiance in Malos’ eyes and he digs his nails into the strong legs crushing his midsection. “Come on…” Malos orders again, bucking his hips to punctuate his words, but his voice is strangled this time around and the hand holding Jin’s face turns kinder, palming his cheek almost as a supplication. Jin grabs his ass and Malos smiles back at him; the look nothing short of demented. We are both sick, Jin thinks, since the look invigorates him, and he buries himself one last time into Malos, pulling him on his lap and coming within the same breath. He misses the part where Malos lets go of his cock to masturbate furiously again, only feeling the aftermaths of it when he’s spilling all over Jin’s abdomen and his chest in thick spurts, desecrating the precious last memento of Lora that’s sitting there.

I will put that blowjob scene from chap 4 of Chamber Music because I think it's my best? I really wanted the smut to be crass in this one.

With each rough slide of his cock, Tav tasted his arousal dripping down her throat. The more his cock fattened in her mouth, the more she could smell his infernal stench, almost blasphemous, hiding behind the layers of perfume and of sweat. Tav barely registered her tears nor her whines when Raphael’s movements grew more frantic. Drool and pre-cum escaped from the corners of her mouth to drip down her chin as she struggled not to gag. “Is this how you pictured me when you touched yourself?” Raphael hissed. His second hand joined the first behind her head. Tav’s breathing quickened in anticipation and in answer. She closed her eyes. Her throat contracted around him, rejecting his intrusion.

I like the evolution of paragraph length. They grew shorter, but not the prose uh

[faksyan]

YOU HAVE PAZ CENTERED AUS???????????? PLEEEEEEEEEEEEEEASE ELABORATE ON THEM I FUCKING LOVE PAZ SO MUCH SHE MAKES ME SICK

Yeee hehe same. they aren't like, super detailed but I have two.

The first one was made right after I listened to her pw tapes, because they made me super emotional about how she actually started to care for the MSF and see them as. well, family is probably too big of a word, but it's the closest thing to family she's ever had.

The whole point of the au is that after she falls from the chopper she wakes up on Mother Base a few months prior to Ground Zeroes, with all the knowledge of what is going to go down. She quickly decides that in order to prevent what's happened before, she has to find the other spy and save the day. She outs herself as a spy to Kaz and says that she decided to betray Cipher, and after he reluctantly (eventually) believes her, they have their little detective adventure to find the traitor and kick Hueys ass. Then big Peace day celebration. Yayy.

The main thing is just her hanging out with MSF people and getting to know them though. Like Kaz (he is agonizing over whether or not bb likes him in the background, Paz rolls her eyes at that and tries to help him a bit. but mostly just subtly makes fun of him for being dumb. no way she's playing matchmaker), Medic (who is kind of pinning after Kaz in the background. probably solved with polyamory I'm not sure yet. it's not supposed to be the main focus), Cecile, Amanda and Strangelove (there's a scene in which she talks about how there's been a huge misunderstanding and she wasn't actually coming onto a presumed teen! yay! Kojima could never). It's meant to be a fic and I wrote bits and pieces of it some months ago, but I haven't touched it in a bit. Should get to it at some point, honestly. It's meant to be a feel-good thing about friends and opening up to people.

The Paz lives au isn't really fleshed-out, I just have this image of her and Kaz banding together as they recover after the crash, meeting Ocelot, staring him down and gossiping behind his back and being this two-annoying-blondes powerhouse. In Diamond Dogs she might be a mechanic (since she could modify ZEKE to be fit for a pilot all by herself), but I also like the idea of her being Venom's buddy when he wakes up. Idk what exactly she'd do there though, part of me thinks she's had enough of active duty. I also am a huge fan of Quiet being post-transition Chico theory that people had at some point, because even if it's not true that would've been such a cool way for them to reunite. Like him somehow getting picked up by Skull Face again and made into a soldier after GZ? Using this as an opportunity to at least do something she wants and transition? The guilt of thinking Paz is dead only to meet her again after almost a decade, and Paz recognizes her instantly despite all the changes? Exquisite. Showstopping. I entertain that idea like. not super seriously because of how far from canon it goes, but it's still really cool.

So ye Paz is awesome, definitely one of my favorite characters, she makes me so sad. Could've kicked ass with V in Phantom Pain, would've been great.

[transingthoseformers]

I highly recommend you read Breaking Bread by @ss-shitstorm

Not only is it one of the funniest things I have ever read, it's beautifully written. The turn of phrase is just chef's kiss. The blend of angst and humor; slow burn, and fuck-around-and-find-out is exquisite. @ss-shitstorm taught herself organic chem out of love of valveplug and the science is understandable and entertaining and correct.

I've been seriously considering it despite it being an x reader fic, and I don't typically read the longer x reader fics, but hey I'll give it a chance (after all I have Echoes of Messatine a second chance and that turned out well)

[julians-muscles-and-tits]

*NSFW RICKY AND JULIAN FIRST TIME TUMBLR ASK REQUEST FIC*

Julian sat on his couch thinking about the events that had happened the other day, how Ricky was wasted and they nearly kissed in the car. Julian kept thinking of how badly he wanted to kiss Ricky in that moment, how hard his cock had got just from feeling his warm breath on his face, his bright baby blues staring into his and when Ricky leant forward and his lips were pressed against Julian's neck his cock throbbed and his knees weakened but Ricky was seriously drunk and he didn't want to risk being seen.

Julian kept replaying that moment in his mind over and over and arousal sparked through him thinking about how cute and innocent Ricky was, slurring something about plutonium love. Julian undid his jeans snaked his hand into his boxers wrapping his fingers around his length and began to slowly toy with himself he closed his eyes thinking of Ricky and his disastrous dysfunctional ways, the way he could never pronounce or spell anything right, how he always seemed so wonderfully naive about what a pain in the arse he could be and somehow he was also funny in his blunt outbursts mostly it was his eyes, his tiny little smile, his cuddly chubby frame. Julian rubbed harder biting his bottom lip, his breathing steady his belt buckle singing with the metallic jangling-

“Julian?” He snapped open his eyes and his heart started beating fast when he saw Ricky was stood at his door. Julian sighed putting his cock away that had been edged and deprived of an orgasm pulled up his trousers and answered the door.

“What is it Rick?” He asked shortly. Ricky was stood there wearing his black and white Martin Luther King shirt, he smelt of weed and booze his eyes were droopy and drunk but he was nowhere near as hammered as he was the other day.

"Jules, Lucy's ignoring me again can I sleep on your couch man? There's fucking bugs and dogs barking and shit I just need one night away from that fucking car” Ricky begged sadly giving him puppy dog eyes.

“Fine just for tonight but that's it Rick I fucking mean it,” Julian said sternly and invited him in. “You want a drink?” Ricky slumped himself down on the greyish blue sofa and nodded as he felt tears surface and fall down his cheeks. Julian came over with a beer putting it on his glass coffee table as Ricky quietly sobbed.

“Julian..what's wrong with me? Why doesn't anyone like me? My own fucking dad won't even let me stay at his place, Lucy doesn't want me, Lahey's always going on about what a loser I am-”

“Ricky I like you” Julian interrupted calmly as he placed a hand on his knee.

“You keep saying I'm stupid-”

“You're not stupid Ricky just the way you do things sometimes is stupid but that doesn't mean you're stupid you're a great guy and a good friend. I like you a lot and so does Bubbles” he said lovingly as he shuffled closer to him. Ricky looked over at him with red teary eyes feeling warmth rise up in his chest at his kind caring words.

In that moment he leaned in and kissed Julian, the first ever kiss it felt blissful the hairs on Julian's goatee delightfully tickling his lips and chin, he was expecting him to go shy like he did the other day in the car but he didn't. Julian put his hand on Ricky's face his black and gold onyx ring resting on his cheek and he opened his mouth exquisitely moving his tongue against Ricky's. Julian tasted of sugary sweet rum and coke and his cologne was pleasant, Ricky tasted of weed, cheap whisky and beer Julian could smell booze, and the faint hint of cooking spray and car exhaust fumes in his hair. They both indulged themselves in the moment savouring their kiss that had been a long time coming, well over 20 years. Ricky's hand ran down Julian's back he was so sturdy and slightly solid in build he expected Julian to tense up but he didn't he was completely relaxed and going with the flow. Ricky's lips departed from Julian's and they were both breathing heavily as they stared at each other completely love drunk.

“Julian…you have no idea how long I've wanted to fucking do that man” he said raspily.

“..me too Rick” Julian said slightly out of breath. They began removing their clothes until they were both naked and taking in the breath taking sight of their erect cocks. Julian wasn't as big as Ricky but he was thick Ricky's was enormous definitely longer than average. Julian was nervous he looked at his naked best friend and couldn't believe this was happening yet somehow it felt so right and like it was meant to be. Despite being hard Julian felt like he had stage fright and wasn't sure what to do he'd never been with a man before.

“I'm-I'm not sure-”

“It's OK Jules let me handle it,” Ricky said sweetly and kissed him again getting another sublime taste of the rum and coke. “You just relax OK? I need you to bend over the couch” Julian got up and bent over on the couch his arse sticking up in the air. Ricky stood behind him and could see he was tremoring he was so nervous the tips of Ricky's fingers brushed down his back and he tensed slightly as he stroked him sweetly Ricky appreciated what a beautiful arse Julian had noticing the faint tan line above his arse crack, he definitely took care of his body his butt was so firm Ricky was almost jealous, he felt him slightly shiver under him, Julian who was usually so confident and sure of any situation, this was the guy who after all told that dick Cyrus to get out of the park and put his gun to his head like he wasn't even bothered but with this he was a shy flustered mess it was so cute and heartwarming. Ricky stuck two fingers in his mouth coating them in spit and began to circle around until he found Julian's entrance then gently eased a finger in. His body seized up and his eyes went wide in surprise, then Ricky slipped the second sopping wet finger in and slowly moved them inside it somewhat stang and felt strange. He heard a strained “mm” leave Julian's throat, slowly he relaxed his body more to Ricky's digits and he began to stretch his fingers to open him up more, he could see he was beginning to sweat and when he could feel that he wasn't as tight around his fingers as he was a few minutes ago he slowly pulled them out of him. Ricky spat on his hand and made his cock slick with it, tugging at the skin so he stayed hard.

“You ready Jules?” He asked warmly.

“Yeah” Julian replied timidly. Ricky placed both hands delicately on the soft toned cheeks to part them and began to slowly enter Julian. Julian hissed through his teeth and let out a low groan in his throat as his eyes scrunched up, his dick was so big and it was opening him up and stretching him out in such a weird pleasurable way. Ricky's eyes fluttered and he moaned out in ecstasy at how delicious and tight Julian's arse was around his cock, fuck it felt like a snug heaven already and he hadn't even started moving yet, he pushed himself in all the way to the hilt and Julian let out a slight cry at how deep inside him Ricky was and how full he felt.

“You ok Jules?” Ricky asked reassuringly.

“Mm hmm, yep I'm good Rick” he said through gritted teeth as he felt him nudging up against something inside him that felt like a sensitive spot.

“OK great just relax bud you're doing great” Ricky said sweetly and he lazily pulled himself out of Julian's arse until he was almost completely out and he stared down with his cheeks spread apart staring at the ring of muscles and could see the pink flesh line of his perineum and his testicles underneath. What a stunning view.

He sunk himself back in and Julian let out a shivery moan then he began to slowly rock back and forth as Julian grabbed at the cushions his face pained in pure delight his mouth was agape, each time Ricky forced himself in he could feel him poking and stimulating his prostate in the most heavenly way imaginable.

“Oh my god, yeah right there Rick” Julian begged barely able to get the words out in a strained voice as he pierced him even harder and faster the divine tightness making his own orgasm churn in the pit of his groin. It felt so good Julian didn't want it to end it was nearly moving him to tears, his erect cock rubbing up against the arm of the couch, small trickles of sweat poured down Julian's pretty face his goatee soaked in sweat his neat black curls a moist mess. He couldn't hold on anymore as he felt his body dissolve into pleasure and felt his groin muscles tensing his cock throbbing with the desperate need of release he panted against a pillow his eyes screwed up tight gripping the pillow so hard it was a miracle he didn't rip it.

“Rickyyyy, Rick I'm gonna come, gonna fucking come I'm gonna.. hah ah ooooohhhhhhhh ohhh” he grunted deeply into the fabric, his squashed cock spurted white warm come all over the arm of his sofa completely plastering it, he let out a muffled sob into the pillow and his body spasmed and shook as a red faced groaning Ricky wasn't far behind his movements slowed down gradually and he could feel that warmth pooling in his belly and groin feel it send shock waves through him and with one more thrust into the warm orgasmic flesh his dick flooded an obscene amount of come inside Julian's hole filling him up completely and he let out a loud “ohhhh” and a carnal groan. They were both breathing erratically as Ricky stood over Julian still inside him and painstakingly pulled himself out Julian whined at the loss of contact but Ricky was completely done in and needed to rest as his body was wrecked, he slumped down on the sofa trying to catch his breath, Julian got up feeling dizzy his arse sopping wet as he felt Ricky's come dribbling out of him and collapsed next to him. The both of them sat there heads tilted back on the sofa exhausted and slowly coming back down to earth from the heady rush of their explosive orgasms. Ricky rubbed Julian's thigh softly. Julian felt tears form in his eyes, the whole thing was something so new, bold but so incredible that he felt himself overwhelmed with emotions he simply couldn't help but cry. Ricky looked over concerned.

“Julian? Are you OK?” Ricky asked caringly.

“Yeah it's just, fuck this is so embarrassing,” Julian sniffed as he wiped the tears away. “..nobody's ever taken me the way you did Rick” he said those words so quiet they were a whisper Ricky could just about hear. Ricky put his arm around him and pulled him close to his chest running his fingers through his sweaty black curls and Julian laid there with one arm wrapped around Ricky's soft plump stomach. They enjoyed the warmth of their embrace and sat there hugging each other for the rest of the night not saying much but trying to process what had just happened how they'd gone from friends to lovers and how it had made them both feel, how their bodies reacted to it, how it made their emotions heightened and felt like it was perfect on every level. Ricky and Julian not just as friends but lovers too.

#NSFW #ricky/jules #Rickian #Ricky x Julian #trailer park boys #tumblr ask box fic #fan fic #smut #kissing #sex #season 1 #their first time #Ricky la fleur #Julian #romance #tpb #masturbation

[fishisvibing]

Hi my new friend👋

How did you get into prongsfoot and when?

Hohoho this is getting interesting. I'm spilling tea and my deepest darkest secret.

Let's start with how I first got into harry potter

My sister is a millennial, and she's older than me a lot, like a lot lot, so when I was just a kid watching lotr and simping over legolas on tv, my sister came home with a newly published hp book and read it for me. I didn't remember much but I did say something along the line mentioned Sirius' name that "his name sounds beautiful"

When I got into secondary school, I had watched all of the hp movies but never touched the books bc my aunt borrowed all the copies, so I begged my mom if I could use my allowance to buy new books and she said yes. I gave the money to my sister and she bought me 2 harry potter box sets, one for reading and one for displaying (the extra one was my birthday gift)

I spent nights trying to absorb those and I fell in love the more I read about Sirius, he's such a cool character, I love him to the point I asked my friends to join my Sirius cult haha. My bestie also liked the Marauders very much and she loved Jily so I started learning about James and Lily too. Even though I don't ship them as hard as Prongsfoot now, I still call them papa James and mama Lily (It's because of our translation makes it sounds super cute to call them like that)

Okay it's getting heated. One of my friends announced that they love wolfstar, and being the artist of the group, I was asked to join and draw for them. My other friend, said that they liked James/Snape (seriously idk what this ship called) and demanded me to join them. At that time, I already felt how much I love James and Sirius and I adore their relationship very much, I feel very weird when they're being separated and I can't stand that (also bc I cried when I know how much they meant to each other in the books). I declined both of them and they were like "WHAT?". The wolftar one said "well can't you see how intimate they are in the movie?", and the James/Snape said "the rivalry between two enemies makes the best trope". But tbh I love Prongsfoot for the way they are, utterly loyal and devoted, their co-dependancy, how they're like two peas in the same pod, like the reflection in the mirror, one that never lies and cherishes the other till their last breath. I love how comfortable and easy they are being with each other. To me, they're full and content.

At first, it was just the feeling that they seem right. Very right. But then it became more and more, like a car racing down the highway, it felt like I fell hard and fast for them so then I started scavanging everywhere for their contents. I read fics, watched fanarts, practicing drawing whenever I had the time so that I could someday be able to contribute something for Prongsfoot, and I did it, it's still not every good imo but for now I'm feeling happy that I'm able to draw them, and write fics about them (they're all in Vietnamese tho)

Well, I think it all thanks to that one fic on fanfiction for turning me to the right path. I was still hesitate over wolfstar bc I didn't want to make my friend sad. But then after reading that devishly exquisite cherry on top fic, my heart and my head snapped straight to Prongsfoot. The way the author described their relationship was like the last nail in the coffin that set me forever laying deep in this Prongsfoot hole. Yahh I was 15 back then, what a time. I'm in my 20s now and that fic still embroided in my mind as clear as the sky (one of the reason it's my fav one is bc it's so morally wrong and fucked up in the head, it's basically dead dove but cooked beautifully)

Thank you for asking me this, I've been dying to talk about this but never have a chance