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riality-check · 10 months

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Eddie needs this to go perfectly.

He’s… okay, saying he’s not an anxious person would be a lie. Eddie is very acquainted with the fight or flight instinct, with the latter of those two options being far more familiar. He’s vaguely obsessive and twitchy and, frankly, puts way too much thought and time into planning one-shots, nevermind regular campaign sessions.

Majority of the time, he likes to have control of a situation. There are reasons for that, plenty of which he knows, some of which he’s gone to therapy for, and more that are on the bedroom and currently irrelevant side of things.

The relevant side of things is the guy in front of him who doesn’t have any sort of ear protection on.

Eddie should mind his business. He really should. Corroded Coffin isn’t even headlining. They’re the openers for the tour of a much bigger band that noticed them and asked if they wanted to tour with them and Archie fangirled so hard he passed out. It was a whole thing.

Still, it’s their first real tour, and Eddie is a control freak, and he needs it to be perfect, which means no one gets hurt. This random guy - probably a roadie of some sort from how he’s plugging cables into something Eddie doesn’t know the name of - not having any sort of ear protection counts as someone maybe getting hurt.

Eddie doesn’t even know him, but he can’t have that happen.

Hell, this guy’s friend has her earplugs looped around her neck on a string like Eddie does. But Hottie - yeah, he’s hot and Eddie’s queer with a healthy sex drive, get over it - has none in sight.

That’s a problem. Eddie can’t have problems, not tonight, not before the first show.

“Hey!” he calls, walking over to Hottie and his friend, who are setting up equipment away from the stage. “You gotta have something for your ears, dude!”

Hottie and his friend exchange a look that Eddie can’t make heads or tails of.

“Thanks man,” Hottie says, and that nickname applies to his voice, too. “But I’m good.”

Eddie frowns. “You need to protect your hearing.”

“Trust me,” Hottie says. “I’ve worked a lot of gigs. Never wore anything then, won’t wear anything now, probably won’t wear anything at the next one.”

Okay. It’s fine. Eddie should walk away now. He’s totally capable of walking away. It is, quite obviously, the better alternative to this circular conversation.

But Hottie is gonna hurt himself this way. Potentially really badly if it’s not a one time thing. This is a metal show, for G-d’s sake. He’ll do some serious damage over time.

Eddie needs this to go perfectly, and for things to go perfectly, he can’t be responsible for that.

“I don’t think you get it,” he says. “You’re gonna destroy your ears that way, especially if you do this for a long time. This show is gonna be really intense, hell, the whole tour is! You can get cheap shit at the hardware store, it’s better than nothing-”

At the beginning of his rant, lecture, whatever, Hottie stares right at him. He has a really intense stare. Pretty brown eyes set in a prettier face with even prettier hair on top of his head. Eddie gets distracted by all that pretty and by trying to make his point.

And he doesn’t notice until halfway through that Hottie isn’t looking at him anymore. He’s looking at his friend.

Eddie looks at her, too. Looks at her confused and focused expression. Looks at her hands moving rapidly.

Oh. G-d.

Hottie’s deaf, isn’t he?

“Trying my best but I’m not fluent, Steve,” she says. Her hands pause, and she looks down at them, confused.

Hottie - Steve - shrugs, and his hands move as he talks. “I’m not either. You were doing pretty good, though. I think. Or our mistakes just line up that well.”

“What’s the sign for reverb? It’s the last word he said.”

“No clue. You can just fingerspell it.”

“I can’t remember R.”

“How do you forget R? It’s in your name, Robin!”

The friend - Robin - throws her hands up. “You know I get it mixed up with X!”

Eddie wants to die. This is it. He’s going to melt into a puddle due to sheer embarrassment, fifteen minutes before the doors open to let in the biggest crowd Corroded Coffin has ever played for.

What a shitty way to go.

“I’m so sorry,” he says. “I didn’t-”

Steve cuts him off. “Normally, I can lip read enough to get the gist. But you speak too fast and trip over your words.”

Ouch. Okay.

“I do lights,” he continues. “Robin does sound. We know what we’re doing, and we don’t need you to tell us how to do our jobs, even if you mean well.”

Seriously?

Eddie should have minded his business. He knows that. But G-ddamn, that’s blunt.

He’s saved, thankfully, from digging himself into a bigger hole.

“Eddie!” Jeff hollers from the stage. “Get your ass over here!”

He turns to walk away, then turns back to Steve and Robin. “Sorry,” he says again.

He turns back around before he can see their reactions and runs back toward the stage. Intimately familiar with flight, and all that.

Shit. First night of tour, and he’s already made an enemy of the light and sound people.

And the light guy is hot.

Really hot.

And he hates Eddie.

This is gonna be a long few weeks.

Now with a continuation and a part 3!

ao3

#ria writes #steddie #steddie ficlet #steve harrington #robin buckley #eddie munson #corroded coffin #hoh steve harrington #jewish eddie munson #(he snuck his way in here)#rockstar eddie munson #stranger things #st #steanger things #stranger things ficlet #st ficlet #gi;pe au

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chiroptophobiawrites · 5 months

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Batboys Type Headcanons

(this is literally just a ramble)

Dick Grayson:

Tall women

People who prove they can handle themselves

Pretty people

Cheekbones probably

Kind of muscular body

Doesn’t care much about specific features but rather what it all looks like added up

Independent people

Is a clinger at first glance but actually values distance

Has probably the biggest variety type wise in that he dates very different people

Kind of nurturing people but often in a tough love kind of way

Thigh guy? unsure about him

likes a district sense of style in his partners, usually something that either keeps up with trends or is distinctly them

Jason Todd:

Butt guy, not unsure about that one (and also tummy)

Likes chubby women but also really muscular women

His preference is one of the two but he will go outside of his type

Like he has a type but he doesn’t stick to it

Cause he doesn’t actually seek out partners they just come to him

Also taller women

But then at the same time he is probably the one most likely to like a big height difference as well

so take that as you will

Likes either fighters or nerds

or both

pretty similar to Dick actually

Doesn’t care much about style in his partner, wears athletic clothes 24/7 and would take someone who does the same

Tim Drake

A mess

The one brother who (openly lol) is into guys as well

Likes people who can have a little banter with

Someone who can read him for filth i’m ngl

People around his height or a few inches in either direction

High energy people who can even be all over the place

likes people who are lowkey a stylistic mess, like they will have some cute outfits but it’s very hit or miss (usually miss)

Body type wise is not very picky but tends to attract scrawny little nerds like himself (/j)

boobs guy 10000% does not matter how much

Duke Thomas:

my lil pookie

Hips guy

Likes prominent noses

or actually prominent features in general

Is drawn to someone a bit more no none sense and serious so that he can see how long it takes for them to admit they like him

likes dark hair and especially when it’s long

Likes a sort of ‘tomboy’ clothing style

He is a true romantic and craves love at first sight

but also probably has the least hangups if his partner does not want to be married in the next 2-5 business days

Someone around his height but slightly shorter, but body type wise nothing specific

Damian Wayne (older)

unconventional but also still conventionally attractive???

Like he likes pretty people cause he likes pretty things in general

But they don’t have to fit into the conventional beauty standards, just someone who most people would be like oh wow they are pretty

people who dress alternately in some way shape or form

Legs guy def

needs frenemies to lovers, will die without it

Like he wants a best friend who he can play fight with and also tell everything and also kiss sometimes

likes body mods (piercings, tattoos, contacts, dyed hair, etc.)

either short hair or really long hair no in between

someone his height or a few inches in either direction

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seresinhangmanjake · 4 months

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The One I Want: Part 10

Jake "Hangman" Seresin x plus size!reader

Summary: You’re new in town and some guy named Jake is about to be your roommate. Being skeptical of new people keeps you lonely and uninterested in any entanglements, but Jake is desperate to change that.

Notes/Warnings: very likely typos, fluffy stuff, cursing i think.

Words: 3157

The One I Want Masterlist

The words ‘I’ll be fine’ are still ringing in your ear, drilled into your brain from the excessive number of times they’d been said or texted in the last ten hours. From the moment you stepped out of your bedroom door this morning, Jake began insisting on picking you up from the shop following your shift. He insisted before you even had a chance to suggest an alternative plan for your day. As soon as you opened your mouth, he had his hand up and head shaking to stop you.

“Don’t even say it,” he said, “I’ll be there to get you, same as always,” to which you responded with what might as well be your new catchphrase: “I’ll be fine.”

His attempts to put his foot down on the matter were unsuccessful as you pointed out every reason why finding your own means of transportation after work is the best solution. He rolled his eyes at “It’s your birthday, Jake,” and snorted at “Your party at the bar starts an hour and a half before my shift ends,” but finally surrendered to “If you’re late, your friends will be disappointed. They mean too much to you for that.” Then he sighed and nodded and continued about his morning routine as you did yours before you headed to the shop. Though you thought you’d won, you received multiple “Are you sure?” texts that were also answered with “I’ll be fine.” And you are fine. Your shift was dull, uneventful, and you had no issue securing a quick ride to The Hard Deck.

Hopping out of the back of the driver’s car is a struggle with the number of bags hanging off your arms. Between your purse, Jake’s present, and the clothes you wore to work shoved into a grocery bag—which were switched with the casual, green knee-length dress you’re wearing—you’re weighed down.

“Need some help there, Sweetness?” Javy is one of few lingering outside the bar, and the only person you know within sight. He smiles and the arms crossed over his chest bounce with his chuckle. Before you answer, he walks over to snatch both your purse and the grocery bag in his hands. “I’m gonna toss these in Jake’s truck. No one will bother them,” he says.

In his brief absence, you stand a little straighter and brush the stray hairs back behind your ear. A low whistle coming from behind you causes you to flinch until you realize it’s from your friend as he makes his way back over to you.

“You're definitely lookin’ lovely,” he teases, and you snort.

“Quit it.”

“No can-do, sweetness. Too pretty to ignore.”

Heat floods your cheeks and you look down at the ivy-green material flowing around your body. It’s about as simple a dress you could find—well, that Millie could help you find after insisting on leaving behind the jeans—but it’s much more than anything you’ve worn in the past. Social events have never been your cup of tea. Not being invited out has left you slim on practice, and that includes every aspect down to your choice of clothing. While Millie did help you pick it out, it doesn’t necessarily mean she is an expert either, but you have no way of knowing for sure. “Is it too much?”

“Not a chance,” Javy replies. “You look amazing. And you happen to be the very reason I am out here instead of in there.”

“Meaning…”

“As Jake’s top-tier friend, I want to be the one to personally deliver his favorite present. Now that you’re here, I can do that,” he says with a wink before holding out his elbow for you to take.

—

Jake’s eyes are already on the door when you walk in, finding you instantly, and his entire body perks up like a man just shot with a bolt of life. Shoulders lose the little bit of slump there was from forearms resting on the high-top table and eyebrows drop their pinch as he watches your every step toward him. Through the mass of bodies Javy assists in weaving you through, Jake’s stare is impressive. It’s steady and he doesn’t lose you, not for a second.

When you reach him, Javy loudly declares “The contest is over! I just won best present.” He then releases you to round the group and pops open a bottle of beer with the edge of the table. By the multiple marks on the wood surface, you imagine—hope, anyway—that Penny doesn’t mind. However, if anyone were to follow her rules and respect the property she requests be respected, it would be this group.

As you stand there greeting the rest of the crew, you can still feel those green eyes. A few other pairs dart back and forth between you and Jake. Tension bubbles around the back corner of the room where the modest party is set up, but it’s not an aggressive tension from distress or concern of discomfort; it’s a tension buzzing wildly with excitement. And from the smiles on faces and the little redhead you’ve bonded with bouncing on her toes, you can begin to guess where this buzzing, humming, zapping energy is coming from.

They know. You’re not sure why a flash of surprise moves through you. Of course, they know. Of course, Jake told them. They’re his best friends. They’re the family he made after the devastation of having his own taken from him. His sharing of what’s happened between you over the last week is normal, so normal that it’s unfamiliar. One more thing you’ll have to get used to if Jake continues to pull you out of the existence you’ve known for so long.

“Hi,” he says. It rides on a heavy exhale that you can barely hear through the cacophony of voices filling the bar.

Jake’s friends appear to go back to their conversations, but they’re no good at disguising their true intentions. Their ears are alert as eyes rely on the strength of their peripheral vision to catch either your or Jake’s next move. A tight squeeze with roaming hands, a deep kiss, an arm wrapping possessively around a shoulder or waist—they’re clearly eager to witness it all, but the anticipation hanging in the air is snuffed out by Jake leaning in and innocently brushing his lips over your cheek. To your side, there is a collective murmuring of disappointment that is, again, poorly disguised.

“You get here ok? I mean, you know, without complication?” Jake asks. A nod joins your budding grin.

“Easy-peasy.” He stares more, his fingers traveling from your elbow to your wrist, and you suddenly remember what’s clutched in your hands. “Oh, I got you this,” you say, holding up the bag. It’s made of a thin, golden paper that’s priced way too high for its quality with clashing orange tissue sticking out of it, and it’s about four sizes too big for the gift you got him, but it was all the shop had last minute.

“You didn’t have to get me anything.”

“It’s your birthday. That’s what people do,” you counter, because even though you’ve never received a present on your birthday, Jake is the type of guy who always should. You hold the bag higher, forcing him to take it.

“Thank you,” he says before turning to set the bag on the table. It’s then that you see the remnants of paper and bows scattered across the wooden surface. Piled on a couple of stools behind Bob are the gifts he has already opened. Jake’s hand starts to dig through the bright orange tissue paper.

“You’re going to open it right now?” you ask, having previously imagined there would be at least a sliver less of attention on the two of you when he does. Your fingers of one hand begin to fiddle with the fingers of the other.

“Sure, why not?” His hand pauses and he looks at you a little harder. “Unless you don’t want me to.”

“N-No, it’s fine.” A blond brow raises. “Really, it is.”

He waits a second longer before resuming his discarding of the paper. When he looks inside, his hand retreats, and he watches your gift at the bottom of the bag as if it might start moving on its own. Then his head shakes and he grins ear to ear and he reaches back in to pull it out. The brows of the other aviators pinch in confusion at the globe sitting in the palm of Jake’s hand. In all of its cheap glory, it contains a beach scene with plenty of unnatural sparkly snow settled at the bottom of the liquid which is quickly disturbed by Jake’s light shaking. He chuckles. Then chuckles some more. Crinkles deepen at the corners of his eyes.

“I don’t get it,” Rooster mutters, only to have Millie elbow him in the side.

“You don’t have to,” she scolds. “Now hush.”

Despite Jake’s laughter, when he places the snow globe back in the bag you fear you’ve somehow fucked up. That it’s not as cute as you imagined he would think. That he’d rather you have gotten him nothing over something so silly. But then he faces you, takes your hand, and as he starts to walk away from the table, whispers, “Come with me.”

As you’re led away you glance over your shoulder to see that your friends are all in different states. Nat and Bob are exchanging glances and snickering at the birthday boy’s rapid departure, Millie is smacking her boyfriend’s hand as he reaches for the golden bag, and Javy smirks along with the statement “That certainly didn't take long.”

You look ahead, but before you can fully catch up with your surroundings, you’re yanked through a door and pushed up against the other side of it as a mouth firmly presses to yours. Jake’s palm smacks the surface next to you, blindly feeling around for the deadbolt, and the thud from its turn echoes in the empty bathroom. Then his hands cup your cheeks and you melt as he pulls you in closer.

At a different time, with a different man, unmanageable thoughts would be taking control of your senses right now. Your fingers would be stiffening and your eyes would be snapping open, darting around to take in every square inch of the room in search of signs of other people. You would be listening for any and every sound with such intensity that you’d have a decent count on the number of footsteps passing by the other side of the door. You wouldn’t be letting yourself go or forget your troubles or feel for a single moment because you know what this behavior looks like. You know how others often perceive it. In the midst of past frenzied kisses, your brain would deteriorate into a fractured mess. Ten percent of your mind would struggle to focus on the wandering hands and lips attached to yours; fifteen percent would go to wondering if anyone saw you sneak into the bathroom with a man; twenty would be spent worrying you’ll receive looks of judgment and pity once you rejoin the bar; twenty-five would be questioning why you’re choosing to be in the position you’re in when you know it won’t end well; and the remaining thirty percent would be trying to prematurely push away the shame to come when the somewhat intoxicated man kissing you in the bar bathroom decides he is done.

It’s not a different time, though. You’re not with a different man. You’re exactly where you are, with the man you are with, and you don’t care about anything but him.

Jake is pulled in with hands fisted in the material of his shirt. He’s your only source of stability and direction as he turns your bodies and walks you backward. When your lower back meets the edge of the sink, you separate the kiss and instinctually jump up. Of course you jump. You always jump in these situations. But this time when your bottom lands on top of the counter, you don’t second guess the man whose hips are settling between your spread thighs, whose eyes gaze at you like you’re the most incredible thing they've ever seen, whose hands are threading into your hair, whose lips are once again claiming yours.

His tongue teases the seam of your lips and when you part them so it can slip inside to brush along yours, muffled moans merge. The fingers hidden within the strands of your hair tighten into fists. They stay there until your own hands begin to explore. One index finger curls through a belt loop, tugging inward to remove what little distance remains between you. The other is the first on that hand to dip under the hem of his shirt and stroke over a patch of tanned skin just above the button of his jeans. You love how he feels there—hard with thick muscle but soft from the trail of hair that disappears under a band of denim. Jake shudders against you, and it seems to serve as a reminder that there is more of you for him to touch as well.

With your hair freed, a hand grasps your outer thigh where your dress has ridden up. Fingertips knead flesh as an arm snakes around your waist. A squeak of surprise gets stuck in your throat when that arm jerks forward, unexpectedly managing to inch your bottom closer to the edge of the counter.

There is so much happening, so much to absorb, and you don’t have a chance to mentally address the tick of uncertainty that never showed itself. Instead, you are simply full of the feeling that none of this scares you. Not a bit of it. Not the strength of his arm around you. Not the hand that has begun to slide up your thigh and under the hem of your dress to the swell of your ass. Not the pressing of his hips into the space between your legs. Not the heat he gives off that fights the chill of the room. Not his teeth nibbling your bottom lip, or the whimpers it draws forth that with anyone else would have you shrinking in embarrassment. You’re so far from afraid that you've crossed into happily addicted territory.

His mouth vanishes from yours to latch onto your neck. The sound you make at the new sensation has Jake’s hold on you tightening.

“All because of a—” you gasp from a teasing lick under your ear, “a snow globe?”

You’ve learned that Jake likes to leave trails of his kisses; mark after mark to show the places he’s been. It is between the kisses of this trail from your ear to your shoulder that you hear “Partly the snow globe,” after one kiss, “partly this dress,” after another, and then “mostly just because it’s you.”

Jake chuckles when you sigh and wrap your arms around his neck. You could let him continue on for hours—would, too—but a banging on the door snaps you out of your blissful haze.

Cursing, your spine straightens like a rod. “J-Just a second!” you yell, patting Jake’s shoulder. He hums into your sensitive skin, sending vibrations over your pulse. “Jake, I know you heard that. People want in.” There’s another knock, and another. Leaning back and placing your hands on his cheeks, you force Jake to look at you. “Time for you to leave.”

He holds his finger up. “One condition.”

“No conditions,” you say as you nudge him aside and hop off the counter. “There are women out there who have to pee.”

It’s a boom this time, leaving no question as to the person’s impatience. Twisting around, you glance over yourself in the mirror. Your lips are stolen, hair wild, and as you go about fixing it back into place, Jake’s arms wrap around your waist.

“Promise me we can continue this at home,” he says. “I don't want to stop.”

Your eyes meet his in the mirror. “Maybe…if you go.”

“Deal.” One more kiss lands on your shoulder before Jake is unbolting the door and jerking it open for whoever is on the other side. He peeks his head out, glances left and right, then looks back at you. “No one’s here.”

“You still have to go.” His face falls into a pout. “Don’t look at me like that. All of your friends are waiting for you, anyway.”

“They're waiting for you, too.”

“It's not my birthday. And I need to fix myself up a bit.”

Jake grins. Watching his reflection in the mirror, you see his eyes linger on your face and chest, enjoying the flush he caused that is more prominent under the fluorescents. They then make a slow line down your body, taking the time to appreciate your ass along the way. “That really is a great dress.”

Your flush deepens. “Go,” you demand, “I’ll be there in a minute.” He winks and then he’s gone.

A squeeze traps the air in your lungs. It caves in your chest, making the thumping of your heart all the more demanding of your attention, and you roll your eyes when it becomes clear that your body is reacting to you missing him. Two seconds apart and you already want him back, and now you feel like a giddy fool; a horny teenager around the first boy to ever truly want her.

Blowing out that trapped breath, you run your fingers through your hair to tame it. It doesn’t manage to return to its previous state, but there is nothing you can do about it. Neither can you remove that pink shade from your cheeks and chest despite the damp paper towel you blot over your skin. You look half-sexed, and it’s comically obvious. But maybe if you channel Jake Seresin energy and walk back to your friends’ table without looking guilty, they won’t look at you like you have something to be guilty of. Not guilty in a demeaning sense, of course, but guilty in a way that will have them shooting teasing looks at you right before Nat and Millie pull you away from the men for details of your actions.

That will have to be your plan, because there is no chance they won’t notice your altered appearance, especially when they immediately knew why you and Jake were disappearing to begin with.

Shaking your head, you tug at the bottom of your dress to make sure all of its seams line up with where they are supposed to be on your body. When you decide it’s about as good as it’s going to get, you head for the door and pull it open, but your path is blocked.

“Good thing he finally left,” Brit says. She steps forward and to avoid a collision you have to take a step back into the bathroom. “Now we have a chance to talk.”

---

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disneyprincemuke · 4 months

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in the late night, in a disguise

alternatively: of course people recognise her at 3am

in which logan has to dress entirely differently to run some late-night errands with her in the uk

(series masterlist)

"are you sure this is discreet enough for me to be seen holding your hand in public?" was what logan had asked her about an hour ago before they stepped out of their apartment.

discreet enough meant an oversized puffer jacket that covered nothing, and a simple cap to sort of shield himself away from being recognised too quick. though, the argument he tried to race was that he's not worried it would be him that would be spotted; it's her after the year she just had.

she simply answered him with a: "it's three in the morning, nobody's out on the streets at this time of the hour."

what she failed to factor in was that there's a local club that will close during the time they arrive at the convenience store about two blocks from their apartment.

logan's eyes widen at the crowd that's spilling out from the doors up ahead and drops his head low, pulling the hat further down his head as if it would help him shield himself from the reality of being found.

his oblivious girlfriend, however, keeps her lingering stare on the half-tipsy and stumbling bouts of clubgoers. she taps her fingers against the back of his, swinging their hands gently as he pushes the door open to reel her away from being recognised with his hand in hers.

"hm, what were we planning on getting again?" she asks softly, scanning the empty convenience store. "i want orange juice. could you help me find orange juice?"

"absolutely. meet at the cashier in 5 minutes?" logan asks, squeezing her hand very quickly as she tears herself away from him.

"okay. don't get anything stupid, logan."

"what makes you say that?"

"just don't," she sighs, flashing him one last smile before she disappears into the aisle right by the fridge.

five minutes pass by quicker than logan expected because he's still staring at the shelves of instant noodles. he just can't simply figure out which exactly he wants to get and eat once they make their way back.

perhaps meeting her a minute or so late wouldn't hurt. so he takes his time contemplating a list in his head, comparing flavours and brands before he settles for a pack of noodles that she would also very much enjoy.

while he walks the aisle leading towards the cashiers, he catches a glimpse of the pink jacket she's decided to wear out tonight. a smile stretches his lips as he calls out to her, "babe, sorry i'm late. i was- oh no."

when he steps out from the corner, catching a glimpse of the area, there's a group of three girls with beaming grins and their phones out. their eyes quickly shift over to him, their eyes widening even more as they slowly process the word that's just been said.

one girl, who had been in the middle of retouching her lipstick for a picture with the (y/n), drops her hand in shock as she looks at logan. then she looks at the driver in pink. "you guys are-"

"i'll pay you good money not to tell anybody," his girlfriend quickly says, hands darting out to gently touch her shoulder with pleading eyes. "can you guys keep a secret?"

"depends, how much are you willing to give to keep it a secret?" one of the girls giggles, a hand covering her lips. though, she straightens her back and her smile disappears when the driver's eyes start to tear up. "wait, i'm joking. of course, we can keep a secret!"

his girlfriend sniffles, wiping her nose on the cuff of her jacket. "are you sure? i can pay you something, i swear!"

"(y/n), no," logan says softly, pulling her back a couple of steps into his body. with a hand protectively on her shoulder, he smiles at the girls, tilting his head. "yeah, we are, but like... in secret."

one of the girls giggles, grabbing her friend's shoulder. "see, i told you they're dating."

the girl with her lipstick in hand, smiles before she puts it away into her bag once more. "that's cool," she admits with a nod. "can i take a picture with your girlfriend, though? meeting her is cooler than finding out something everybody speculates every other week."

"oh," the driver whispers, patting her eyes to dry the tears that had formed. "you think i'm cool?" she turns to logan and tugs at his jacket. "she thinks i'm cool."

"are you kidding?" another girl snorts. "you easily beat those guys on the track - you're amazing."

logan steps forward and puts his things down in the same place she'd momentarily put her stuff. he takes her phone from her jacket pocket and steps out. "absolutely. she's pretty cool, right?"

— bonus

"i can't believe they thought i was cool," she squeaks, tapping her card against the reader. "can you believe that? i'm getting recognised outside the paddocks."

"you're pretty cool, babe," logan grins giddily, holding the door for her as she walks in. "i think i lucked out asking you to be my girlfriend."

she rolls her eyes, waving away his statement. she presses the button to call for an elevator, then takes a step towards him. she tugs at the hem of his shirt as she leans into him and she looks up. "sorry someone saw us. you were right - we should have just stayed in."

"it's okay as long as you're okay with it," logan smiles, leaning down to chastely kiss her. "but this will happen more. you're growing to be quite the household name. i'm convinced i'm retiring as a wag rather than an f1 driver."

she frowns. "don't say that! next season will be much better for you."

"for us."

taglist: @myxticmoon

#tine is right #i really AM making a home out of the ls2 tag #somebody needs to stop me i fear #logan sargeant #logan sargeant x reader #logan sargeant x you #female driver #fem!driver #f1 female driver #f1 x you #f1 #disneyprincemuke #disneyprincemuke imagine #disneyprincemuke imagines #disneyprincemuke f1 #disneyprincemuke ial

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nicole-alt-delete · 1 year

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It was a hot summer day in Hawkins and the kids had dragged them into helping with some game once again. Eddie was more than thrilled to help, Robin had managed to escape with Nancy on a "supply run" and Steve was currently taking orders from Max, the only one of them who'd remembered to say please.

Eddie wasn't really sure what the end goal was but it seemed like they were one step away from LARPing- just changed the name so Max and El would still play. He was helping Will by carving this big fuck-all stick into a cane for him when the gravel behind him crunched under someone's feet, and a second later Steve was saying "Hey, I'm borrowing this- Thanks-" Not stopping for the answer before Eddie felt a tug at his back pocket.

He instantly whipped around, spluttering, "Absolutely not-" and before Steve could even take a step he was fiercely gripping his black bandana taut between them like the world's saddest game of tug of war. Steve loosened his grip a little, making a point of not tugging on it or ripping it, just looking confused as he waited for an explanation.

Eddie blushed for a moment, realizing the position he'd put himself in, how protective he got over a little piece of fabric. He stammers for a second, "I- you can't just- I need that man,"

Steve quirks an eyebrow at him, clueless. "What do you mean you need it? It's been in your pocket every day and I've only seen you actually wear it once. C'mon just for today- the girls don't have any hair ties and I need to put my hair up, it's killing me,"

He sighs a little, fully aware there's nothing reasonable he could say to Steve here. He very much cannot tell him that he *needs* it just in case some hot guy walks by and happens to know what it means. That's ridiculous- especially when the guy he most wants to see it is the one tugging it away from him in the first place. Steve has no idea what it means and Eddie doesn't expect him to but it still drives him insane thinking that it could happen.

Alternatively, the idea of Steve putting his hair back with Eddie's bandana drives him a little insane too.

So he blushes, sighs, and lets go of it. Points at Steve firmly, "You better give that back Harrington, or I swear-"

Steve smiles and starts walking backwards with it, already rolling it up into a hairband as he cuts him off, "Yeah, I know Eds, you can hold it against me forever, promise,"

He runs off back to the other kids and Eddie shakes his head at him, flustered and annoyed, and forgetting himself until Will clears his throat behind him.

He doesn't say anything but he's smiling and making this little face as he looks away from Eddie, like he knows something.

"So uh. The stick?"

"Right- yes- stick- cane- it's a cane for a mighty wizard, let's go,"

He didn't think he'd notice it so much, but the empty feeling in his pocket is driving him crazy. He'd been wearing that stupid thing since he learned it was a thing people do- a stolen trip up to the city on a bus he snuck onto, a weekend as a runaway before he sucked it up and went back home.

Someone had called him queer and he turned expecting a fight only to see a group of freaks who stood out more than himself. They had smiled and asking him why he was all alone, and been worried. One wanted to make sure Eddie hadn't been kicked out. Another wrapped her scarf around him, and before he knew it he was in the back of a gay bar with people he'd never met and felt like he could tell anything to.

The idea of proudly wearing something that singled him out- but only to the right people- made his hart light up. It was like a new language, like thieves' cant, something secret and magic.

He'd spent hours asking about colors and being confused and rightfully embarrassed by more than a few of the answers. Some sounded better than others, some made his face flush. At the end of the day he felt better than he had in ages and he had the courage to go back home to Wayne.

Before he got back on a bus he stopped into a second hand shop and grabbed the first black bandana he could find. He debated the whole ride home which side to put it on. When he walked back up to the trailer door ready to apologize, it hung proudly out of his back left.

Eddie had let Steve wear it home and it was killing him, but they had stayed out late and he half forgot anyways, and Steve's hair did look pretty cute pushed back like that. Steve had promised to give it back anyways, and Eddie trusted him fully.

He just also really, really, really wanted it back as soon as possible.

So for once he got up before noon (barely- just after eleven,) and made his way to Family Video and hopped Steve had left it in his car or something so that he could get it back then and there.

What he wasn't expecting was to walk in and see Steve bent over behind the counter with the damn thing hanging out of his right pocket, as if he had any goddamn idea what that meant.

Eddie nearly had a heart attack and was thankful the store was empty like it always was so he could sprint over, jump the counter and yank the thing out of his pocket immediately.

"What do you think you're doing wearing it like that?!"

Steve had barely registered the jingle from the door, let alone Eddie launching himself at him, and was thoroughly surprised to say the least, nearly knocking over a display as he reacted.

"Hey! Jesus man- you can't be- what's the big deal??? That's exactly how you wear it all the time- I was just keeping it safe til I saw you again,"

He stared at Eddie properly confused, a little on guard still from how suddenly he had leapt over and how worked up he seemed.

Eddie took a deep breath and sighed, folding the bandana up in his hands and just holding it for a moment, debating what to tell Steve.

After a second Steve makes this little head movement like 'well? go on?' clearly waiting for an explanation and Eddie rolls his eyes and sighs.

"It's- Look, Stevie, you can't wear it like that, you're not- I mean it's. It's like- a symbol, okay?"

Steve leans on the counter and frowns, confused.

"A symbol?"

"Yes- yeah, like- like those little cross necklaces moms wear or Dustin's star wars shirts. They're symbols....for the same kind of people to pick up on,"

He struggles with the words, trying hard to insinuate just enough without giving it all away, still hesitantly afraid of Steve's reaction.

But Steve just looks thoughtful. Nodding a little, putting a finger to his lip as the gears turn.

"So- okay, what's it symbolize then?"

He'd been hoping Steve wouldn't make it that far.

"It's- uh. It's really not..."

Steve stares, "Man I'm not gonna judge you- just- why's it such a big deal that I can't wear it like that too?"

Eddie can't help but laugh, "If anyone who knows what it means saw YOU with it- you would- no, you'd set yourself on fire I'm sure of it,"

He shakes his head, holding the bandana tighter in his fists.

Steve only frowns though, "Eds, what's it mean? If you don't tell me I'll just get my own and wear it until someone else does,"

Eddie looks mildly terrified by the idea but laughs at it all the same. "No- No, god do not do that Harrington-"

"Then tell me,"

"I can't, it's really-"

"Eddie, I'm gonna steal it back,"

And he does, reaches for the bandana in his hands as Eddie pulls away, the two of them starting to bicker and wrestle for it, each equally stubborn until the point that Steve actually does manage to grab it.

The tension gets to him and Eddie can't help it anymore, he just blurts, "It means I'm gay, Steve!"

It makes Steve pause and Eddie uses the moment to grab it back and quickly shove it in his back pocket again, blushing furiously and hoping Steve doesn't take it too badly.

Steve's mouth opens a little to say something in response, but the door jingles and his head snaps to it, Eddie instantly hitting the floor because he's still behind the counter where he most certainly should not be.

A man comes in and asks where the new releases are and Steve happily helps him, leaving Eddie plenty of time to crawl out from behind the counter and sneak out. He almost gets away with it too, but the door opens again, jingles and Steve twists his head.

"Eddie, wait- We're not done- I'll talk to you about this later!"

Eddie doesn't look back at him as he runs out the door past Robin who had been bringing lunch back for her and Steve. She tries to greet him but he just blurts "Gotta go, Buckley," and darts past.

If he'd looked back he would have noticed how red Steve's face was. Part 2

#Nico's writing #ficlet #steddie #Steve Harrington #Eddie Munson #st4 #Stranger Things #i found this in my wip docs and realized i forgot about it???#so i figured i'd post this much and see if it convinces me to finish part 2 👀#also uh i did not beta read this so #be kind

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cassiopeiaemiliagaunt · 2 years

Text

Eyeliner | E.M.

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader

Summary: You do Eddie’s eyeliner, straddling him, and your feelings for your best friends start bubbling to the surface.

Word count: 1.4k

Warnings: None that I can think of, let me know if there are!

Author’s note: There aren’t any descriptions of reader, so it can be read as gender neutral reader! Hope you guys enjoy :))

Disclaimer: GIF isn’t mine :))

“So, how does it look?” you ask Eddie, turning around from where you’re sitting on the floor in front of your full length mirror. Eddie is lounging on the bed, humming along to Blondie playing softly from your record player (although he’d never admit to liking Blondie).

You are doing your eyeliner. You have watched a movie with Eddie earlier and someone was wearing black eyeliner and you felt like trying it out.

Eddie stares at your face with an intense gaze. You start to blush. Your face reddens the longer he stares at you and you wonder what he’s thinking about that makes him stare that long.

It’s a dangerous game, being best friends with the guy you’re hopelessly in love with. The two of you have been best friends for five years, ever since you both started high school. These five years consisted of you joining - but not actually ever playing - hellfire meetings, you had designed the logo of both hellfire and corroded coffin, you also were there for every concert. But the two of you hung out much more than that. There were the countless movie nights, where you alternated between who could pick the movies. The record shop outings where you bought each other records. The milkshakes in the diner closest to Eddie’s trailer.

You had figured out you love Eddie two years ago. You were watching him perform during a corroded coffin concert and it all came crashing down on you how much you love him. You’ve never told him though, out of fear of rejection and of ruining your friendship.

“Looks fucking metal!” he exclaims suddenly, realizing that he was staring a tad too long.

You smile bashfully at the compliment.

“I could do yours, too, if you want,” you offer him. You clearly didn’t think it through, though. Because doing Eddie’s eyeliner would mean being really close to him for an extended period of time. Some part of you wishes he would say no, but another, even bigger, part wishes he would say yes.

“Fuck, yeah, please do,” Eddie accepts.

You grab your eyeliner pencil and make your way over to him onto your bed. It’s a queen size bed, so there’s enough space for the both of you to be on it together. You sit cross-legged in front of him.

“Okay, close your eyes and stay very stil,” you command him.

“Sir, yes, sir,” he promises, jokingly saluting.

You delicately place a hand on the top of his head to make sure he keeps his head still and for something for you to lean on. With your other hand, you uncap the eyeliner pencil and very lightly try to line his eyes.

You know your breath is fanning his face and you can feel his on yours. You’re secretly glad that you brushed your teeth earlier, having had a piece of popcorn from watching the movie got stuck in your teeth.

You reposition your eye lining hand multiple times but can’t seem to find a comfortable position. Another position in which you can do his eyeliner comes to mind and a flare of braveness rises in you. You cap the eyeliner.

“Okay, it’s difficult doing your eyeliner like this, could you maybe lay down?” you ask him, slightly timidly. He opens his eyes, shrugs and just lays down on your bed, not knowing what’s to come. He looks at you expectantly, folding his hands behind his head.

You move over to him and throw a leg over his lower stomach, effectively straddling him. His eyes widen in surprise and his lips easily fall into a smirk afterwards. “If you wanted to sit on my lap, you could’ve just asked, you know,” he winks at you.

“Shut up and close your eyes, Munson,” you retort smartly, a beginning blush painting your cheeks. He makes a face at you, but closes his eyes. “Is this okay?” you ask him a few seconds later, to make sure you’re not making him uncomfortable or anything.

“Everything you do is fine, sweetheart,” he answers sweetly, darkening your blush. Luckily his eyes stay closed.

You lean forward so his face is in front of yours. You feel him freeze for a second and then fully relax. You’re a bit overwhelmed with how intimate this feels, but you force yourself to get over it. Then you place one hand on your bed next to his face for you to lean on. Your other hand once again uncaps the eyeliner pencil and you get to work to the eye closest to your hand. You can really trace the line of his lashes very precisely in this position. You cap the eyeliner, switch the hand you lean on and uncap the eyeliner again to work on lining the line of his lashes on his other eye.

When that is finished, you lean back and ask him to open his eyes. He looks up at you with his beautiful bambi-eyes, accentuated prettily by a line on his top lid. Next, you plan on doing his waterline.

“Okay, so now you have to keep your eyes open and look up. I’m going to line your waterline so you really can’t move. Also it can be quite uncomfortable so if it hurts or if you don’t like it, just tell me and we’ll stop.”

“Got it,” is his awfully short and clipped response. For a second you think you’ve made him uncomfortable, but you know that he would tell you if that is the case.

You lean forward again, ask him again to look up and start on the waterline of his left eye. You lean on your left hand that you’ve placed on the bed for support. This feels even more intimate, now that his eyes are open. He looks up, like you’ve instructed, but because your face is so close to his, he can still see you.

When you’re done with his left eye, you switch your hands again and start working on his right eye. When you’re done you cap the eyeliner and throw it next to you.

“Look at me?” you ask / demand.

His eyes snap to yours and your breath hitches in your throat. He looks absolutely gorgeous with eyeliner. You both just stare at each other for a few seconds, him being uncharacteristically quiet.

“You’re beautiful,” you finally whisper and his eyes are gazing deeply into yours, before trailing down to your lips and staying there.

You stay really still, as if he’s a wild animal and you’re afraid to scare him with one wrong move. And then he moves his head to yours, his hands that were still folded under his head finding your waist.

You freeze in anticipation, before you feel his chapped lips on yours and then your whole body is on fire. It only takes you a few moments to reciprocate the kiss, matching his energy enthusiastically. His arms circle around your back, hugging you into the kiss and you gasp in surprise and delight. He uses the opportunity to lick into your mouth, exploring it with his tongue.

The kiss turned full blown make-out comes to a stop when you’re both panting for breath. His mouth moves to your jaw, peppering kisses to it, whispering “you’re beautiful, too” inbetween.

“I love you,” you gasp. The words are out of your mouth before they even registered in your brain. It’s true of course, how could you not love him. He’s been your best friend for five years and you’ve been in love with him for the last two. You just didn’t expect yourself to say it quite yet, it’s not in your nature to put yourself out there like that and make you vulnerable for rejection.

Your heart constricts for a split second when he stops his kiss attack on your jaw and looks up at you, but the look of awe in his eyes is enough to reassure you.

“I love you, too, sweetheart,” he whispers sincerely.

This time it’s you who crashes your lips together. It takes everything in you to not sigh in pure bliss into the kiss.

---

A/N: Fun fact, my best friend did my makeup once like this and ever since it has been a part of my bisexual awakening lol. Also, I was thinking of writing something like this for Robin as well, thoughts?

#eddie munson #Eddie munson fic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie x reader #eddie munson x you #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fluff #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x male reader #eddie munson x gn!reader #eddie munson x gender neutral reader #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction

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annie115 · 1 month

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Pure Desire - Alternate Ending!

A/n: Alternate ending to this story . You can find the original ending here :)

I´m so so sorry for this, but that´s how it ended in my head and I wanted to share it with you :(

Warnings: smut (minors dni!!), angst

It´s been a week after Charles and you had phone sex. It still sounded so weird when you thought about it but it was just what you did. You haven’t seen him afterwards, just very briefly before the race on Sunday. You didn’t interact though, just looking at each other with you looking away quickly because you started blushing. It was awkward that was for sure but your body was aching for him. Not only because your crush on him became worse after hearing him moaning your name, hearing his heavy breath and his little chuckle after he finished. No, also because you now got a taste of how he was in the bedroom. Demanding, dominant and so fucking sexy. You wanted more and you were sure that you would immediately give him anything you want, he just had to ask.

And that’s exactly what he did. Charles thought about you all week, couldn’t wait to finally see you again on the race weekend. His noble intentions towards you were gone, almost completely. He wanted to see you in your red lingerie, he wanted to eat you out and fuck you until you´d beg him to stop. Charles valued your friendship, very much and he still didn’t want to date you, he simply wanted to fuck you. A week ago he kept telling himself that he wouldn’t do it, that he wasn’t the kind of guy who would play with you like that. But you made it so hard for him to stick to those intentions, so fucking hard.

Your little whines, your moans and your trembling voice which came through the speaker of his phone were what made it so hard.

So Thursday night came. Charles and Carlos were busy all day, giving interviews and making some videos for the fans, you were busy with working. Your boss finally told you that you could call it a night and you got home, desperate for a hot shower and your bed.

You stepped into the shower and decided to treat yourself with your favourite hair treatment and a body scrub. After what felt like an hour you got out of the shower, the whole room steamy. You put on the white bathrobe from the hotel and entered the bedroom to grab some clothes when your phone lit up. You frowned when you saw who called you.

Charles was also standing in the shower, hoping that the hot water would distract him from the thought of you. Of course it didn’t. Your body kept popping up in his head, your moans and pictures of you wearing nothing but an oversized Ferrari t-shirt with his number on it. Without really thinking about it, his hand started to stroke his cock. “Fuck”, he moaned quietly but he quickly realized that it wasn’t enough. He wanted you. He needed you.

He stepped out of the shower, unable to hold a straight thought, when he called you again. You could just do it again, right? A little phone sex never hurt anybody, did it?

“Hey Charles”, you said and tried to sound cool. “Hey, amour”, he said and you wanted to melt on the spot. “How was your day?” he asked and you started talking a little. “So, what are you up to tonight?” he asked and you sat down on the bed, playing with the hem of your bath robe. “Nothing really, it´s been a long day so I just took a shower and would’ve watched something on Netflix I guess”, you answered. “You?” you asked and he sighed. “Yeah, same here actually.” He didn’t say more but he didn’t really need to. You knew what he wanted and you wanted it to.. “Did you just come out of the shower?”, he asked and you pressed your lips together. Okay, here we go.

“Hmm, I´m just in my bath robe right now”, you answered and could basically hear his grin through the phone. “Is that so?” he asked and you quickly positioned yourself on the bed, two fingers caressing your thigh. “I thought of you, Cherie. Under the shower”, he said and you closed your eyes. “Really? Is that why you called?” you asked and he replied with a slight “hmm”. “Can´t stop thinking about you, amour. If you were here right now I would make you feel so good”, he said and you whined, starting to touch yourself on your most sensitive spot.

“Fuck, Charles I want you so badly”, you moaned when you´re movements got quicker and you pushed a finger inside your wet pussy. “I want you too, Cherie”, he moaned while stroking his cock with his eyes closed. “I want to suck you off Charlie”, you said and again were surprised about your words. Maybe you slowly got the hang of how phone sex worked. “Fuck”, he moaned loudly and you had to smirk, knowing that your words caused him to make those noises. “God, y/n if you were in the Hilton here with me I would come to your room and just fuck you until you´d beg me to stop”, he whispered and you stopped your movements immediately. “What?” you said and grabbed your phone which you had put on speaker next to you. “Charles I´m in the Hilton hotel this week”, you said before he could answer.

Charles quickly stopped touching himself and sat up. He was all in for it, the question was if you would be as well. “Do you want me to come over, amour?” he asked and you couldn’t say no. How were you supposed to say no? “320”, you just said and he hung up immediately, leaving you alone with your thoughts which were completely twisted. Deep inside you knew that he didn’t feel the same for you, that he used you for his own pleasure, not thinking about your feelings. But what if you could change that? Maybe he would fall in love eventually..

The knock on your door ripped you out of your thoughts and you got up the bed to open the door. Charles stood in front of you, wearing black sweatpants and a black t-shirt. His hair was a bit messy, probably because of his actions from earlier. “Hey Cherie”, he whispered and you weren’t able to say anything because his lips were already on yours. You moaned quietly while he entered your room, not leaving your lips. He closed the door with a kick and lifted you up on his hips to carry you to the bed. “Fuck, I want you so bad”, he gasped and undid the belt of your bathrobe which left you naked in front of him. His eyes gazed over your body, stopping at your eyes. “You´re so beautiful”, he whispered and spread little kisses all over your body.

It didn’t take long until he was over you, his hard cock thrusting inside of you with no warning. You were already seeing stars while he fucked you stupid. At one point he grabbed your leg and wrapped it around his waist to push into you even deeper, his forehead pressing against yours. “Do you want me inside?” he asked and you quickly nodded, not being able to speak. “Talk to me, baby”, he whispered and you moaned loudly, begging him to finish inside of you. He smirked and fastened his movements once more before he came undone inside of you, leaving you out of breath. He rolled down next to you and wrapped his arms around you. “You´re amazing”, he whispered and kissed your temple. You smiled at him and he looked at you with an expression you couldn’t read. “I feel terrible but I really have to get some sleep before the first practice tomorrow”, he whispered and stroked a strand of hair out of your face. You quickly nodded. “Yeah, sure I understand”, you whispered and he gave you another smile and a kiss on your nose before leaving the bed, putting his clothes on and leaving your room. “Ciao ma belle”, he said and blew you a kiss before he closed the door behind him.

And so it went for weeks. He would come over to your hotel room, you had sex, arguably the best sex you ever had with somebody and then he left. Once he even pulled you into his drivers room after qualifying. You already figured that you were nothing but a toy for him, a tool to relieve stress but you couldn’t stop. How could you? You were so deeply in love with this guy and he offered to kiss you and to sleep with you. You figured you should be happy, but you weren’t. You wanted more and he knew that, he just couldn’t give it to you. Sometimes he felt terrible, he really did. But he couldn’t help it, he was in love with your body and he loved to be in charge. The feeling that he could have you whenever you wanted blew up his ego and he couldn’t stop. Neither could you.

That was until he brought her to a race weekend. She was some kind of model, you didn’t know her and you didn’t want to know. He introduced her to you as a friend but you could see the way she looked at him and the way he looked at her. And damn, it fucking broke your heart. You weren’t able to hold back the tears so as soon as they left you ran into the back of the garage, trying to find a place to just cry alone. But you ran into Lando.

“Oh, hey y/n- what, oh my god what happened?” he asked and pulled you into a warm hug. “Shh, honey what happened?” he asked and forced you to look at him. You didn’t say anything but the look on your face said enough. “Oh no. You saw them, didn’t you?” he asked and you just pressed your face on his chest. “Come”, he whispered and led you into a little room at the back of the garage. “I noticed that something changed between the two of you in the past couple of the weeks. Y/n what´s going on?” he asked and you tried your best to dry the tears. “We had sex, Lan”, you sobbed and the look on his face changed. “What?” he asked and you scoffed. “I was so stupid. I thought something would change between us, you know? Thought maybe he would catch feelings too”, you said and laughed bitterly. “Y/n, don’t say that. I don’t know what has gotten into him, he´s usually the good guy. Listen, you´re not stupid, okay?” he cupped your face in his hands and looked at you. “But you have to stop this. It´s not good for you. I´m so sorry that I´m the one who has to tell you that but you have to let him go. I know it´s hard, but I´m afraid he won´t stop playing with you if you don´t end it.” You nodded and sobbed again. You knew he was right. You had to change something. “Thanks Lan”, you whispered and he gave you a kiss on your forehead.

You were currently on the phone with your best friend when somebody knocked on your hotel room door. “I´ll call you later okay?” you asked before you hang up the phone. You opened the door and your jaw dropped a little when you saw Charles. “Hey Cherie”, he said and wanted to enter the room but you stopped him. You inhaled sharply. “What are you doing here?” you asked and he frowned. “What do you m-“ “Shouldn’t you be with your girlfriend?” you asked and he stepped back a little. “Wow, y/n what are you talking about? She´s not my girlfriend, I told you that”, he said and you just scoffed. “Yeah, sure. You know what? It´s not that it´s any of my business anyway”, you spat and wanted to close the door but he stopped you. “Y/n, what´s your problem? I thought we weren’t exclusive and that was okay?” he asked and your eyes widened. “Yeah, okay for you! You´re such an asshole, Charles. You knew exactly how I felt for you, all this time! You kept playing with my feelings and now you have the decency to introduce me to her, thinking that I would be happy for you? Fuck off, really!” With a quick movement, Charles entered your room and closed the door behind him. He grabbed you by your shoulders and looked at you, with his stupid beautiful green eyes. “Amour I never meant to play with your feelings”, he said with a low voice. “And she´s not my girlfriend, I promise. You´re the only girl for me, really”. He leaned forward and pressed his lips on yours and for a second you wanted to give in, feeling his soft lips on yours. You closed your eyes and moved your lips but quickly thought about what Lando told you earlier. You pressed your hands against his chest and pushed him away. “Stop it. Yeah, maybe I´m the girl you´re sleeping with. But am I also the one you want to be with? Will you ever feel the same way for me as I do for you?” you asked him and tears started to build up in your eyes because you already knew his answer. He didn’t say anything. “Cherie-“ he started but you shook your head. “Go”, you said and his face dropped. “Leave me alone, Charles”, you repeated and he sighed before leaving your room and the tears finally dropped down on your cheek.

Charles closed your door and leaned at it before he sighed, running his fingers through his hair. He could hear a heartbreaking sob from the other side of the door and that was when he realized: he did not only lose you, his friend, his anchor in hard times, no. He also fucking broke your heart.

I´m so sorry again but please let me know what you think!!

Part 2

#charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc angst #formula 1 #fanfiction #formula one imagine #ferrari #pure desire

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sanzaibian · 2 months

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Life is really unjust.

My name is Killian Ndiaye, and I’m intimately acquainted with its bad side. My father died while I was young, leaving me to be raised along with my younger sisters by only my ma. We weren’t rich by any means, so it meant that my ma made ridiculous hours at her job, and that us, when old enough, had to pitch in with part-time jobs.

Thankfully, I was quite an intelligent kid, and still managed to have quite good grades. However, that didn’t mean that school life was easier, as I was always labeled as the “poor nerd” in class, wearing the few simple clothes I owned and sporting the buzzcut my ma cut for me. As she always said, others just cared more about looks than about life.

However, this was not the last of my struggles, quite the countrary as it turned out that I wasn’t the cis straight man I was supposed to become. High school was formative in that sense, as it’s in there that I noticed that I wasn’t into girls like the other guys my age were, and like ma expected me to be.

I… had a very hard time admitting that I was gay. Ma always told me that those “queers” didn’t know what life was like, and that they were just living carelessly, wasting their parent’s efforts… I didn’t want to wast my ma’s efforts, as I love her, yet I couldn’t hide from the truth. I’m gay, and that’s just it.

I vainly thought that I just needed not to be like “those gays”, those who live in the hairdresser’s, the clothing store and the clubs, looking all like fairies, and that everything was going to be alright. How shameful it was when, at 17, I started questioning my gender, so disconnected I feel to masculinity and other men’s experiences, and so uncomfortable I am with the facial hair that just won’t stop growing…

I thought that if I just suppressed it, if I was just the most “normal” I could be, then everything was going to be alright. That perhaps, I just needed to alleviate a bit my dysphoria, and everything was going to be alright.

However, my ma is a very observant person. As I was approaching majority, she started to make comments about a girlfriend, and about me stubbornly shaving my face. I just dismissed those questions, still foolishly hoping that everything would end well.

When I was 18, she asked me whether I was gay. I couldn’t lie to my ma.

And we arrive to now, a few years later. My ma “didn’t want a fairy in her house”, so I stayed with a few friends. But when they went to college and I couldn’t, I was left to fend for myself alone. Now, I live in the streets, and spend my time alternating between finding part-time work and begging in the city. I do it whenever I need to go somewhere, and though I don’t do anything illegal – I even spend some of my meager funds on a transports card – it absolutely does not mean that I’m suddenly well-liked.

Few are those who spare any money. And on top of that, because I’m a black man, I hear plenty of racist comments. As if they thought I didn’t hear them asking me to “return to my country”, even though I’m already there…

And the most depressing fact of this all is, because I can’t really shave anymore, my dysphoria is going through the roof. My life is hell, but I keep at it in the vain hope that I’ll be able to climb back to a respectable life.

However, today was especially terrible. I had found an interesting job of installing the equipment for a big concert, and actually ventured quite far from the center of the city to go to the big theater. When I arrived there, they told me that they weren’t looking for anyone, they had all the help they needed. Dejected, I left, but as I was leaving, another young guy entered. I hang out a bit to hear what was going on, and I heard that he was hired for the temporary job. I guess they thought I would steal from them or something…

It’s so unfair ! I love music, and at school always wanted to do something that had a link to it ! I was so hyped to work in this job ! I thought that if I worked hard enough, people would even notice me and my good knowledge of the equipment, and would consider me as a good partner for further work ! But, as ever, all those dreams were, once again, cut short…

On the way back, I started begging, but as I reached the back of the first bus, I saw what looked like a man in a dress, wearing makeup and nail polish, being harassed by an older-looking woman.

“(…) and any sensible person ! How do you expect me to do nothing while a pervert is preparing to go to women’s bathrooms and assault girls ? You should be ashamed of endangering others !

- Miss... please stop… I swear I won’t do anything bad…” The person in a dress said, clearly on the brink of tears.

- And how can I trust you ? I know you snakes, you’re just saying this to then go and continue your business unharmed !”

As she was about to continue harassing that person, I decided I needed to step in. I want there to be justice at least somewhere, even if it can’t be in my life. I step between her and the person in a dress, and ask calmly :

“Miss, please stop. They are clearly really hurt by your comments, and everybody around us is uncomfortable with this display.” I say, as I watch everyone else looking away, as if nothing’s happening. Courage shines ever so hard…

- Oh, now a beggar is coming ? You should go back to your country or find a goddamn job rather than profiting off of our hard work !” She said, clutching her designer bag, as if I was going to steal it.

- Miss, these comments are really racist. Please stop.” I stay, choosing to remain calm and composed.

- What, can’t I say what things are ? That’s really all the wokist’s fault, nowadays we can’t say anything, we have to walk on eggshells at all times ! I’m not racist, but if you want racism to stop, you have to stop overreacting at everything !”

She looks at me with a smug look, as I’m about to lose it. I can’t answer anything, because, unfortunately, one can’t argue out of nonsense ! Especially someone like me who’s not trained in rhetoric – I had part-time jobs at the time !

… at least, I can shield that person with a dress from further harassment. I look behind, and see them smiling to me, thankful for my help. If I can help at least one person, I’ll be happy.

Suddenly, the sound of thunder rings in my ears.

No one seems to be bothered by it, save for the old woman who seems to be just as uncomfortable as I am. I turn to see the person I was protecting, however their eyes glow an unnatural color… What’s-

Before I can even try and understand what’s happening, a headache strikes, and I instinctively put my hand on my face. Fuck, I hope I haven’t gotten a cold or something, medication is hard to come by…

As I’m holding my face, a few fingers make their way in my beard (ugh). But suddenly, I feel it shifting. Intrigued, I touch my beard more thoroughly, and feel the hairs receding, growing smaller and smaller, until they finally come back under my skin.

How did that happen ? I mean, I like not having a beard, but still, it’s not normal… I look in front of me and it seems that the woman is losing wrinkles. What’s happening !

The bus stops. Quite a few people leave. Why was I here ? … yes, I had to do something with the people on it… was it work ? I don’t quite remember…

However, as I look around me, I suddenly notice that the people who looked away previously looked a little bigger. As if they were… bulking up ? As I notice that, I feel pain on my body. When I look down, it seems that my undernourished body looks more healthy… No, not just healthy, it looks… muscular ? I’m… inflating, somehow ?

The bus starts again, yet this time, its course seems smoother… I look in front of me and notice that the old – now young – woman’s hair is now tied up in a bun. Almost instinctively, I take my hand to my hair, and feel it moving.

What was a short messy afro is growing, however, something even weirder happens. As it grows, I feel strands joining, growing into large spirals. It’s no longer a sponge-like mass, it’s more like… coils ? My hand presses less and less. I need to be careful about my hair, I don’t want to have to go to the hairdresser again !

I stop myself at my thoughts. Hairdresser ? They’re a waste of time ! Only those who don’t care about life – or don’t have to care about life – go to those and try to look good. Yet… it feels good. No, actually, it feels... right…

Like, it’s right to want to look good ? I mean, look at me, I have muscles, I have good hair, I look good ! Suddenly, I feel my t-shirt straightening and softening. I look down as its color drains, and it splits in the middle. I smirk, and as the collar hardens and folds, I open it the shirt up to the middle of my chest, right as buttons materialize.

The woman in front of me, now sporting a much more formal costume, sighs and gives me a black jacket. I take it and put it on expertly on top of my dress shirt, fitting it right down to the belt holding my dark jeans. She then sits on one of the seats, more in the front of the bus.

She really looks stylish, as one should… after all, fashion is the be-all and end-all ! One of the other passengers comes to me, quite a muscular guy dressed in a black suit, and starts putting makeup on me. I close my eyes as foundation, concealer, mascara, and tattoos are put on my face and body. I can do it all myself, but having a professional do it is always better. That’s why I always go around accompanied.

I suddenly open my eyes. What the hell is happening ! I don’t have a tattoo ! I don’t do makeup ! Hair and clothes suffice ! ...

I scratch my shaved sides, until I reach my earrings. Yeah, it suffices… good hair, good clothes, good makeup and good accessories… it suffices…

“Are you good, Mx. Ndiaye ?” The makeup artist asks me.

- Yes, don’t worry, I’m good.” I say, with a deep yet feminine voice. It seems wrong somehow…

- Do you want to see the results ?

- Of fucking course !”

The makeup artist grabs a pocket mirror and holds it to me.

Oh yeah, I’m so fucking gender ! Plus my necklaces oozes fanciness. Like, it makes me look so fucking rich !

I look around me. The vehicle somehow seems more… cramped, even though at the same time it seems more spacious, with its large seats. My head hurts, it really feels like something is wrong…

Suddenly, the limousine stops. Annoyed, I shout to the chauffeur :

“Magdalena ! Why the hell are you stopping ? We’re not at the villa yet !”

The chauffeur looks back. Wasn’t she an old grumpy woman just now ? She looks so young and has such fancy clothes, even though it’s quite clear that she isn’t from high society.

Ugh, my head really hurts...

“I’m sorry, Mx. Ndiaye, we have new guests to pick up at your request.”

I look around and see that person with a dress leaving. Suddenly, it all comes back as a flash of light. I’m not supposed to be an ultra-rich person, I don’t need all of these fancy clothes and accessories ! … I’M SUPPOSED TO BE ON THE STREETS !

That person, as if they were reading in my mind, answers in a rich and deep yet slightly unsettling feminine voice :

“You have the gratitude of the calamities, Mx. Ndiaye. Accept this… gift.” They say, smiling as they get out, followed by the makeup artist and one of my two personal guards – the other staying at the front of the vehicle.

Suddenly, it’s as if a fog descends on my mind. Like, what was I thinking about ? Oh, yeah, I was thinking about my next song that I’ll film in the villa ! Ugh, it’s so annoying that my agent asks me to pump out banger after banger like, I have all the money in the world… but I guess it’s alright to work a little. This way, I get famous and get laid, and that’s the only thing that really matters.

As I’m about to shout on the chauffeur to ask why she’s not turning the limousine back on, two guys, a cute twink and hot hunk, climb aboard. I lick my lips. It’s gonna be a great night.

“So, guys,” I say, letting them take place in my arms at my right and my left. “have you heard of my new song that’s gonna come out ? If you’re good enough, I might even let you in in the filming for the clip…”

And the limousine sets off.

The sun comes to my eyes, and I wake up in a giant luxurious queen bed, with my two conquests sleeping tight at my left and my right.

I smile as I get up, naked. Yesterday’s clothes were flung in all directions, and as I approach them, I see they’re all crumpled. I chuckle. We had a ton of fun last night… Besides, Magdalena’s gonna be the one to pick that all up.

I take from the closet a nice pair of white pants and a white shirt, and put them on quickly. I go to the balcony, and look at the view.

Life is really unjust.

I get to live the perfect life, while others are left to pick up the remaining pieces.

But when you’re on its good side,

Life is fucking lit.

#male transformation #male tf #nonbinary transformation #nonbinary tf #nerd to jock #nerd to himbo #jock tf #himbo tf #douche tf #dumber tf #mental change #reality change #transformation #tf story

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seireitonin · 6 months

Text

What alternative subcultures the Creepypastas would be in!!(pt 1)

This was an ask I accidentally deleted! Oops! I also listen to all the music I put in here! So it’s also a small glimpse into what I listen to! Also as some of you know I’m in the scemo and goth subcultures! But I know a lot about alternative cultures period so this was fun to make!

LJ: VICTORIAN GOTH 100%!! / Victorian Circus Core

I mean he’s literally from that era

The feathered shaw, the black and white color scheme, the black lipstick and guy liner with the pale white face!!

Literally a goth king. That’s an outfit I would definitely see at a goth club!(I’ve been to many)

Another part of goth culture is liking horror/ monsters. Since LJ is a monster he’d fit right in!

He’d be accepted by most goths despite his looks bc goths have morbid dark fashion senses themselves!

So if they saw his swirly cone nose and sharp teeth they’d be like: omg! I love your look!

He’d definitely listen to classical music and other goth music Specifically Switchblade symphony and Cocteau Twins

He definitely listens to old PATD

I can see him wearing other Victorian inspired clothes too!

Like dis:

Jeff: Metalhead/ with 90s emo(for nostalgia.)

I mean look at him

He’d definitely shit on nu metal and still listen to it

The long greasy black hair, not showering, thinking he’s better than everyone else yeah sounds like a metal head to me/ hj

He listens Cattle Decapitation, Peeling Flesh, Suicide Silence, Cannibal Corpse, Avatar and literally anything with machine gun drums

He listens to some 90s emo but will never admit

Definitely wears band shirts especially the ones he got from concerts when he was a teen

He loves a good mosh pit

You know, the ones where you come out all bloody?

Yeah he loves those

He can hurt people in them and it’ll be fine? Sign him up! (Man has no pit manners smh)

Definitely a metal elitist

“You like SOAD? Ugh that not REAL metal”

Stfu Jeff.

Yeah. Metalhead to his core.

LJill (I love her, so underrated)

Victorian goth as well, but she leans more in the gothic Lolita side of it

Wears pretty gothic Lolita dresses with lots of black and white lace, buttons and she’ll have a matching bonnet and parasol to match when she’s feeling extra fancy!

She feels so elegant and feminine when she puts her multiple layers of petticoats on! She wouldn’t be caught dead without them!

Her makeup and lipstick is always perfect.

Her hair is always either perfectly curled or perfectly straightened

The goal is to look as doll like as possible ( also because she is one!)

She listens to music box like music if that makes sense?? For example Swan Lake by Fairy Lullaby or Porcelain Eyes

She, like LJ listens to classical music and goth music

But mainly classical and music box!

Will go to tea parties and knows how to make tea cakes and sandwiches

Just a lady all around!

Jane: Trad Goth/ Casual Goth/ Amy Lee

Since Jane is always on the move and doesn’t really have time to get all dressed up

So she’ll usually be in a simple black dress or black pants and a turtleneck

But when she does get a chance to dress up

She dresses trad goth mixed with Amy Lee

She’ll have her hair long with bangs covering her forehead

Trad goth makeup, but a bit more modern,big eyeliner and arched brows

She’ll be wearing corsets and waist trainers

Long skirts, ripped leggings

High heel platforms

She goes all out and she looks great!

Listens to music like The Cure, Siouxsie and the Banshees, New Years Day and The Birthday Massacre

Can do goth dances very well

God she’s beautiful

Toby: Midwestern Emo/ early 2000s emo/ a tad grunge/ indie

He just looks like one tbh

But seriously he had a hard life and emo music gives him comfort

Toby wears flannel shirts, grandpa sweaters, simple tee shirts and pants that are loose but not too loose

Hiking boots, sneakers

He listens to Chidos, The Front Bottoms, State Champs, Real Friends, Nirvana, Yawning, Hail the Sun, The Used, A Lot Like Birds, Static Dress, Mild High Club and many many more

He can play the guitar, drums and sing pretty well

He needed something to keep him busy while he was homeschooled after all! And it took his mind off of the horrible things he was going through

Plus with him feeling no pain, he could practice his hands bleed so his hands are really calloused

He likes to sit in the woods and just listen to music sometimes

He’s a loner like that

Especially in the fall when the leaves are so pretty

He feels almost peaceful. Almost

EJ: Tbh I can’t put him in a single box I feel like he’d be everything

He’ll listen to whatever whenever

Except religious music it freaks him out

Ya know because of the cult that took his eyes

But I see him liking dark ,dreamy music if that makes sense

His taste actually lines up with Toby’s pretty well

Static dress, MGMT, YKWIM by Yot Club, Homage by the Mild High club, My Bloody Valentine, Grouper

Also anything with sad guitars like wish by sign crushes motorist (Toby likes music like this too)

Sometimes even lo-fi if he has to unwind

Jack wears all black most of the time. Just so he doesn’t look too dirty

Black hoodie, black shirt, black pants, black shoes

He also feels like any other color won’t go with his now grey skin

But yeah EJ is just a dude with a wide music taste

We love that for him

Nina: Obviously Scene+Emo= scemo

Do I even have to explain?

She listens to Pierce the Veil, Sleeping with Sirens, Bring Me the Horizon, Paramore, AFI, FOB, Get Scared, Hey Monday, MCR, Ghosttown, Millionaires, Brokencyde, Medic Driod, Dot Dot Curve, A Skylight Drive, ISMFOF ,everything Toby listens too as well(and many more)

Nina wears either all black with colorful hair or has her signature black and pink with more colorful outfits

Cheeta print, skulls, DIY stuff, band shirts, tube tops, tutus, skinny jeans, brass knuckle necklaces, hoop earrings, black eyeshadow, big teased hair with raccoon tails

Yeah she’s 2000s emo fs

Goes to raves and concerts like crazy

But she’s not opposed to any kind of music and will do goth makeup for fun

And wear Jane’s clothes

She thinks goth is really pretty but it’s just not her

She’ll stick with scemo lol

Jason The Toymaker: Steampunk/ Victorian Circus Core

The copper in his clothes

The bright red hair

The long flowing jacket with intimate details

Yeah he’s definitely steam punk

Im not sure what kind of music steampunks listen to but I’d like to know!

Jason definitely listens to Emilie Autumn and old PATD

BEN: EDM

I mean…it was obvious

Skillix, deadmouse, xxxanteria, Luci4, old Flying Lotus albums, 9lives

He’s literally code so I think he’d like it

Not much else to say here tbh

I’m getting tired so lmk if you want a part 2 lol

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slashers-and-rats · 7 months

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Do you think... You could do headcanons for the slashers X a mute/nonverbal reader? Like just how they'd react to that & how they'd adjust to alternate forms of communication and stuff like that (Which slashers are up to you, but if Brahms and the Sinclairs were there I'd start squealing and giggling fr)

rat chat: i will provide but i don’t like bo so I’m leaving him out he’s a BITCH

Slashers with a Non-Verbal GN!Reader

featured slashers: brahms heelshire, vincent sinclair, lester sinclair

Brahms Heelshire :

i think brahms would be a little perplexed at first, especially since you’d start out as the house nanny. one of the rules is to talk to the doll, but you find ways around it. you hum along to music when you feel up for it, and usually leave little letters near the doll. sometimes, during lesson time, you even throw in a little bit about sign language, and pretend to teach the doll new words.

when you first meet brahms outside of the walls, he’s quick to show off the things you taught him while he was watching you. he’s kept all your letters, tucking them away in his pockets so he can carry them around with him, and he poorly mimics the few signs you’ve been showing off. it’s a bit heart warming, despite the odd situation you’re in.

once you two have really settled in with each other, he gets into more of a groove with things. he finds he likes the silence. it’s not like you’re not around, you still amuse him in other ways. he likes that he gets to be the chatty one. he practices reading aloud with you, and you show him how to sign some simple sentences, and you continue writing him little letters that he collects. he even finds an old music box to stick them all inside. he keeps them very safe. they remind him of you.

i don’t really think it would effect him all that much. as long as you give him love and affection in your own ways, he’d be so happy. i think his favourite thing would be making you make other noises. y’know, not words. like he’ll sneak up on you and scare you, and hear you yelp, and he’ll snicker to himself. or when you two are alone, and you make a cute noise, he melts a bit. it’s the little things for him.

Vincent Sinclair :

in my head, vincent is selectively mute, so he’s pretty much immediately on board with you being non-verbal. there’s no questions, there’s no needing to get used to it, you two are just two quiet people. he finds it comforting, if anything, since he’s able to so easily relate to you.

you guys pass notes to each other like you’re exchanging secret messages. it’s especially amusing when you’re around the other brothers, and you’ll slide vincent a note, making the other brothers upset they don’t get to know what you guys are talking about. vincent always keeps these very private. communicating with you is a privilege, not a right, and if you choose to be selective about who you talk to, he is not going to let someone else change that.

you guys learn sign language together. bo never saw the use in teaching vincent, and his mum had tried but he stopped practicing when she had passed. so, he was very rusty, and you had similar experiences. you had tried to learn, but never found much use since the people around you didn’t know anyways. so, when you two met, it became a small hobby between the two of you. you explored the town, found a library with some books on asl, and pretty quickly you two were practicing in his little workshop whenever you had a chance.

i think a lot of your comfort with each other comes from the fact that you guys don’t need words to communicate. you can tell without needing to be told when either of you are upset or frustrated, and it’s easy to see when you’re happy. vincent has memorized all the little details of your expressions to know exactly how you’re feeling, even if you’re not open about it. it’s harder for you, since he wears the mask, but you’ve learned his body posture is a pretty big give away on how he’s feeling. you two just know each other really well.

Lester Sinclair :

lester is pretty used to the idea of people being non-verbal cuz of his brother, so it doesn’t take him as much time as others to get used to it, but there are still some bumps. i think, since he’s such a funny little dude, he finds your silence kinda hard to judge sometimes. he’ll tell a joke, or tell a silly story, and you’ll just crack a smile. he never truly knows what you’re thinking, since you never tell him, and so it takes him awhile to get used to being comfortable with just not always knowing.

i think he’d be someone who immediately does everything he can to be better about it tho. deep down, he really cares. he cares about his family, he cares about the town, he cares about you- he puts as much effort into those things as possible. so, he’ll put in the effort to learn ASL behind your back, and surprise you with it on a date or something.

he likes talking to you, and getting good at knowing what you’d say if you did speak. his favourite joke is to make up a conversation between you both and play both parts, and whenever he says something in your voice, he waits for you to nod or shake your head so he knows if he’s right in his assumption. he’s usually pretty accurate tho, since he watches you a lot.

he really does watch you A LOT. since you guys can’t have conversations about your interests, he just finds other ways to figure it out. while you’re reading, he’ll peek over your shoulder. he’s always a page behind tho, but he still gets an understanding of what you like. when you’re riding with him in his truck, he lets you pick the music, and notes down every song you repeat. when you guys are eating, he watches your face to see what you like and don’t like. he just likes learning about you, even if it isn’t as easy as learning about others.

#slasher x reader #ask #slashers #brahms heelshire x reader #brahms heelshire #vincent sinclair x reader #vincent sinclair #lester sinclair #lester sinclair x reader

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cozage · 7 months

Text

The Daughter's Return Part 3

Chapter 8: Promises Broken...

Start From Beginning | Next Chapter | Table of Contents | Read on AO3

A second part will be posted tomorrow :) Characters: female reader x Portgas D. Ace Word Count: 1.4k

Over the next few days, you traversed the Alabastan Desert with the Stawhats. Ace occasionally gave you piggyback rides, and sometimes you rode on the perverted camel, but mostly you walked.

Walking gave you something to focus on. When your mind wandered, that’s when the fear crept in. So even though you were hot and miserable, you preferred walking to the alternatives.

Ace even let you wear his most treasured hat so you could keep the sun out of your eyes and avoid sunburn.

The journey was long, but it wasn’t uneventful. You learned more about Vivi and the Kingdom of Alabasta. She told you stories of her admirable undercover work in Baroque Works, and your heart hurt for her and her country.

Nami told you about her tangerines and how she wanted to draw a map of the entire world. From what you had seen, she was an excellent navigator and had a way with reading the weather that you had never seen before.

Usopp told you about stories that were too crazy to believe, and you offered up some of your actual stories in return.

Chopper talked to you about vitamins, and though you didn’t tell him exactly what was going on, he gave you a lot of medicinal herb remedies you could use in the future for morning sickness and other ailments.

Zoro didn’t talk much, but you did admire his swords. Izou had taught you how to handle swords when you were young; a skill that you had further refined in Wano, and you were able to impress the mossy-haired swordsman with a few moves.

You helped Sanji cook occasionally, preparing ingredients when you saw he was going to need them. It reminded you of how you helped Thatch in the kitchen, and you tried not to be too sad over the thought of never doing it with him again.

Luffy stuck by Ace most of the time, the two of them exchanging stories. You liked to sit and listen to their tales of childhood, and Ace told Luffy plenty of stories about his time on your father’s ship. They deeply cared for each other, which softened your heart. Ace rarely opened up to people in the way he opened up to the Strawhats, and you found yourself thoroughly enjoying everyone’s company.

When you finally found the man who claimed to have Teach, you weren’t surprised to discover he was a fraud. You were a little disappointed to realize you would actually have to leave Luffy and his crew, though. You had grown very fond of them all.

“Let’s go in the morning,” Ace begged. “One more night with them all?”

“Sure.” You grinned, knowing he was just as sad to leave as you were.

He plopped a sloppy kiss on your cheek and got up to stretch.

“Be right back,” he said, sauntering off to talk to a few other crew mates.

“I still can’t believe Ace joined a crew,” Luffy said, shaking his head. “This Whitebeard guy can’t be that great!”

You laughed at his comment, your eyes on Ace as you watched him talk to Chopper. “He’s a good guy, Luffy. I think you’d like him if you met him.”

“He has to be a good guy.” Luffy sighed and fell back into the sand. “Ace wouldn’t respect him if not. Ace doesn’t like anybody.”

Your eyes finally broke away from Ace, and you looked at Luffy in confusion. “What are you talking about, Luffy? Ace likes everybody!”

“No way!” He huffed. “He tried to kill me when he first met me! He tried to kill me a lot!”

You thought about how Ace mentioned he had tried to kill your father long ago. That version of Ace lined up a lot more with what Luffy was saying.

“I think pops beat it out of him.” Your eyes ventured back to Ace, who was now talking to Sanji. You wished he was back by your side. It was getting cold without him.

“He seems happy,” Luffy said, so quiet it was almost a whisper. “I think you did that to him.”

“Me?!” you laughed. “I make his life infinitely harder, Luffy. Trust me.” You resisted the urge to put your hand to your stomach at that thought.

“Nah.” Luffy sat up and shook his head, sending sand everywhere. “He really loves you. I can tell.”

“How can you tell?”

Luffy hummed, deep in thought. “Well, he would-”

“Got you some tea,” Ace said, interrupting his brother. “How are you feeling?”

“Better.” You snuggled into his arms, letting his warmth wrap around you as you gripped your teacup.

You looked back at Luffy to hear the rest of his answer, but the boy was already off laughing with another crewmember. Whatever he was going to say was long gone.

It was a joyous night gathered around the campfire, but it was short lived. Everyone was exhausted, and you were barely able to keep your eyes open near the end.

“We can go to bed,” Ace offered, smirking at you as you nodded off.

“No,” you groaned, resting your head on his warm shoulder. “S’our last night…”

“Come on,” he whispered, picking you up and taking you over to your all’s sleeping bags that were a good distance from the rest of the camp. “You need a good night's sleep.”

“Mmmkay,” you hummed, curling up into the sleeping bag. “Come here. You’re so warm.”

“Did you drink all your tea?” Ace brushed the hair away from your face as you hummed with delight.

“It was really good, thank you.”

Ace watched you closely, waiting for you to go to sleep. “I love you so much. You know that, right?”

“Of course,” you mumbled, a sleepy smile ghosting across your face. “I love you too, Acey.”

Ace bit his lip, holding back his emotions. He gave you a soft kiss on the forehead, and by the time he pulled away, you were softly snoring.

You had drank all of the sleeping medicine he had put in your tea. With any luck, you would be out until morning. By then, he’d be long gone.

He slipped his hand into your bag, and pulled out your stack of vivre cards. He shuffled through each one, until he found a small piece of paper with his name on it, covered in hearts that you had drawn across the entire slip of paper. Ace quickly removed it from the pile and shoved it in his pocket, putting all of your other cards back into your bag.

He bent down and gave you one more kiss, and when you didn’t stir, he walked over to the dying campfire. Only Luffy and Nami were still awake, both sitting in silence as they watched the coals.

“Here, Luffy.” Ace handed him a new blank slip of paper. “Whatever you do, don’t tell Y/N you have that.”

“This?” Luffy examined the paper, but it was blank. “What is it?”

“We’ll use it to find each other again one day. When we’re both big named pirates.”

Luffy frowned. “It’s just a piece of paper, though.”

“Do you not want it?”

“No,” Luffy said. “I’ll keep it.”

“Are you leaving now?” Nami asked. “It’s the middle of the night.”

“Yeah, I’ve got to get a head start and get the Striker ready.” Ace gave a longing glance back at you. “When she wakes up, can you hand her this?” He passed off a transponder snail to Luffy.

“Sure,” Luffy said. “But don’t you just want to take her along now?”

“Nah,” Ace said. “She knows where I’m going. She needs to rest. Just leave her until morning. And look after her, will you? Make her travel with you guys until you get back to your ship. I’ll meet her in Nanohana”

“Okay!” Luffy said.

“Don’t mention that paper, Luffy. I’m serious. She’ll take it from you.”

“But it’s mine!”

“So put it somewhere safe.”

“This doesn’t make any sense,” Nami said, her frown deepening. “Ace, if you’re meeting her in back in Nanohana, you should just-”

Ace ignored Nami, not wanting her to think too hard about his false plan. “Next time I see you, Luffy, we’ll both be top pirates!”

“Deal!” Luffy said.

And then Ace was gone, disappearing into the night, leaving you blissfully unaware of the unforgivable thing he had just done.

Tag list! @taeyoge @teiza @tojislawyer @trafalgardnami @bloopbopsblog @dancingnewcat @dxestyi @flooofity @nyxthedragon01 @deadsnothere @h-rhodes1598 @morgyyyyyyy @trafalgardvivi @fiestynatureweeb @frogpogjoghurt @beepboopcowboy @ms-portgas @luvyallbabes @appalost @zuchkaa @saybeyonce @stray-npc @kitsunechan707 @theyluvmesblog @heartysworld @aira-needs-sleep @mothmomjay @ophelias-flowerss @aqualein

#one piece #one piece imagine #one piece scenario #one piece x reader #one piece x you #portgas ace x you #portgas ace x reader #portgas d ace x reader #ace x y/n #ace x reader #portgas d ace #portgas d. ace #cozage #✧˚ace✧˚

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sarcasticscribbles · 7 months

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I made a curious cat and people been asking about my designs so I thought I would share it here too If you have any question too you can send it here or over on curious cat!

Under cut is a very long monologue about some design choices regarding my s1 gang, Gerry and some avatars!

S1: Jon, Martin, Sasha and Tim

Right off the bat I'll admit I had seen TMA fanart before, but I assumed it was a game from how consistent designs are (Jon and Martin); however when I started I avoided fanart (but I am not immune to TMA fanon designs). I'll explain S1 gang, they are my favourites. I find fcs helpful to keep them consistence.

Jon: I have a basic Jon design: short, brown man with long hair and glasses. Jon has a put together façade but, he wasn't qualified for the archivist position, and he doesn't know what he's doing. Therefore, I like him with longer hair he can't care for, therefore messy. It gets longer with the seasons and adding on all the marks he gains from the entities. I gave him half-moon, golden glasses with chains holding two eyes. I like to think it's a Beholding artefact, so Gertrude wore them before him. I used to have Dev Patel as a reference for him, but I've switched over to Riz Ahmed!

Martin: Very basic: fat man with fluffy hair and glasses. When I heard his voice, I thought of Harvey Guillén, who stayed a reference for Martin's body. I pictured him in a dorky attire; round glasses, ginger, comfy yet business appropriate clothing. I added eyes in the pattern of his jumper and added freckles. I've recently play around adding a beard, because I think he wants to look older than he is (re: CV; "I'm only 29!") but haven't found a style I like. I keep him fat throughout the series, instead of him losing weight s4.

Sasha: She has some canon traits: tall, long hair and glasses. I draw her hair up to stay out of her face. Contra Jon, I think she was more qualified for the archivist position, so Gertrude started preparing her for the role. She wears an eye necklace I draw Gertrude wearing that's in the same style as Jon's glasses. She has a matching bracelet with Tim and overall is one of my favourites. (notSasha): I took what was established and flipped it; short, short hair, no glasses. I imagine notthem could pass as cousins (since they still need traits to the victim's family?); no immediate resemblance but with a few traits of the original.

Tim: Canonically described as hot so I have my own bias. I started with general attractive traits: tall and fit. I think he puts a lot into his appearance. I use Keanu Reeves as a reference, and he works great for him. He’s a hair guy, gets it professionally cut and owns expensive products, skincare routine and dresses in fitted clothing. His standard is a shirt with an eye pattern. He takes pride in his appearance, so S2’s worm scars troubled him. He stops shaving to let it heal properly but they never go away. He never liked looking at them and they are a cruel reminder of the past (however, one scar splits his eyebrow to x2 bisexuality). S3 he stopped caring about putting in effort, the stubble grew into a beard and his clothes aren't fitted. He loses muscles, gains weight, and isn’t who he was in S1.

Gerard Keay

I had just assumed Eric was hispanic (for some reason) and then I connected that he's Gerry's dad, and apparently I headcanon him half hispanic lol

But it was why I wanted to draw the Mama family portrait to play with genetics. Letting his dad be rather tall, tan with dark curly hair and Mary be ginger with paler skin; Gerry's pale, ginger with curly hair as a child. He grew up looking like Mary and started altering his appearance to be more like his dad; dyed dark hair and taking some of Eric's clothing (I also gave both a beauty mark under their eye he'll highlight despite wearing make up). Alternative scenes and goths tend to straighten their hair but I let Gerry have naturally wavy to still resemble his dad more. I tried to give him trad goth make up, mainly looking at Siouxsie Sioux in the late 70s. And a fun bonus to have his hair often cover one eye because, The Eye

Gerry cared for his dad, even if he died when he was a toddler (if I remember correctly). Gerry's chosen name is the nickname Eric referred to him as, which is also where my trans headcanon comes in (afab). I haven't thought it out fully, or how that reflects on other characters since everyone else calls him Gerard but I think there's some symbolising there having a chosen name relating back to Eric

(some) Avatars

Oliver Banks: "the Egyptians believed the most significant thing you could do in your life was die,"; I take inspiration from Ancient Egypt for my Oliver design! He wears an Ankh around his neck, but I want to look into more about Egyptian death symbolism (he has a cross too, but I'll probably remove it for future designs). I've also taken some inspiration from Nordic mythology, with Hel (Hela In English? Loki's daughter (not Marvel) ) as half his face is beautiful, and the other is a corpse (skull). I don't wanna mix too many cultures just for the sake of it, but it was a really fun design decision. And he's goth. Bonus death aligned I next time I draw Georgie I'll draw inspiration from the Death's-head hawkmoth

The Distortions: Michael's 60s and Helen's 80s inspired, no reason, just vibes. I like to think of Michael as a spiral while Helen's a twist, if that makes sense, I've been meaning to draw them together to demonstrate, but I'll include a doodle of it

Jane Prentiss: I looked into a lot of paganism, and fell into a rabbit hole. She's described as a modern witch, so I wanted a subtle alternative look with a shaved side and gauges. One of her breasts are exposed because (boobs) in old pagan traditions a lot of rituals were performed nude, to be closer to nature. A lot of pagan art has a very strong feminine force, I want for Prentiss. She has one eye, but I'll probably remove the other too, I've seen a lot of people do for more holes

Nikola Orsinov: Drag king. Because we need more of those. I love drag so Nikola's has a mix of both male and female attributes since he's just trying to imitate a human. Their design is also inspired The Toy Soldier in the mechanisms (haven't listened? To it but a lot of people pointed me to that designing Nikola!) that's also her actor Jessica Law! I put all my gender into Nikola lol, and when I can sneak an IT reference in I will

Breekon and Hope: Wario and Waluigi

Annabelle Cane: She's described having web keeping her skull together, but for some reason I imagined it to be down her neck. So I pictured her head occasionally falling off and being restored by a web. So I gave her both lol. Her vintage style is old, goth Hollywood glam to me and I love looking at reference for her

Bonus Agnes: I haven't drawn her fully, but I wanna take inspiration from Scandinavian culture, think Midsommar (both the movie and the tradition) and maybe Norse paganism. I love Agnes story and how it's only told by other people, and her relationship with Gertrude is so interesting!

#tma #the magnus archives #mag #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #tim stoker #sasha james #gerry keay #gerard keay #oliver banks #jane prentiss #nikola orsinov #the distortion #michael shelley #helen richardsson #agnes montague #annabelle cane #breekon and hope

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nhothicket · 3 months

Text

Ever create a band au even though you cant draw instruments?

more info below the cut :>

Meet Bdubs, 38, stage name BdoubleO - Boomer is often mistaken for his first name, but is just another nickname for the pile. Infamous online, if it weren't for the fact that he makes disgustingly good music he would probably have more hate followers than genuine fans. The line between charming asshole and just asshole is one he fails to tread lightly most days, but he's mostly harmless. Let's just say the Bdoubleo could also stand for boorish. A bit of a sellout, but he enjoys what he does and many appreciate his extremely.. candid attitude. Best likened to a cartoon villain dressed as a rockstar, with the ego to match. (It's usually his unrelenting pretentiousness that gets him into Twitter spats.)

Thank you @foxden-frontier for always helping out with my stupid aus ^v^

Annoying at worst, unfortunately very charismatic at best. You could say he's a softie at heart, but that implies its at all difficult to spot. Once he's done "clapping back at all the haters", in person he's still got a temper (he thinks he has a bad boy reputation to uphold) but is enthusiastically friendly.

Etho, 32, resident keytarist of creatively named band Canadian Bacon. Joined by his two best friends, Pause the frontman and bassist, and Beef their drummer. A deceptively popular band if judging by their permanent rough draft name and their nerdy-college-student dress code. Etho himself is just a guy who likes playing music with his buddies, their hobby having blown up under their noses. Now, as an unfortunately successful touring artist, Etho's anonymity is scarce, but he continues to wear his mask to discourage widespread photos of his face. In spirit. He's concerned about having his face plastered all over fan accounts, which still occurs, but a perk of having a completely rabid fanbase is that many will defend your boundaries to their last dying breath. Like his face, his legal name is out and about online, but its similarly discouraged. Best likened to just a guy.

If asked on the subject of his scar, the entire band has various different whimsical stories, brand new everytime. His lack of internet presence means Pause and Beef are free to make up whatever misinformation about him as they please completely unchecked (in jest of course), and they do take advantage of that. Many of these alternative facts are passed around on wikis and in fan circles.

To say Bdubs is jealous of Canadian Bacon's popularity is an understatement. They weren't even trying at all and yet they're the hot shit? But instead of putting that jealousy to hatred (which he had considered of course) he's instead set himself on proving himself. And if that means impressing Etho then so be it. Why does it mean impressing Etho? Good question, never ask it again. They say keep your enemies close, and Bdubs' enemies don't deserve personal space.

As it turns out, Etho wasn't too difficult to impress or maybe Bdubs was just that amazing. Either way, they end up hitting it off. Their friendship is an interesting one, mostly because Etho's fans basically hunt Bdubs for sport online. We're talking scribbled out of pictures, get behind me, #FreeEtho. Etho thinks he seems pretty cool though, if not a bit much sometimes, so no harm no foul.

Okay, rapid fire, some other notes for this au.

> Etho's legal name is Ethel. Because it is. My heart is so set on it. But if you're boring, Ethan or Ezekiel or something work too I guess.

> Etho's keytar mimics a more traditional guitar in most cases, though he's known to experiment a lot with how far he can push that.

> Etho's scar is from a mugging in this au, not a very fun story to tell. Beef practicing his brand new razor blade throwing hobby or fighting a bear to beat Pause in a bet is much more entertaining.

> Canadian Bacon is meant to have a manager, but I couldn't think of anyone I felt fit. Just a note.

> Bdubs has a habit of grabbing Etho by his tie and pulling him down to his level or otherwise using it as a leash. Etho doesn't usually wear the tie outside of show stuff or interviews, but he wears it around Bdubs because thinks its funny. When there's no tie that doesn't stop Bdubs, collars and hoodie strings are subject to the same usage.

> Etho isn't aware of how infamous Bdubs is when they meet as they meet at a festival with a big group of other musicians. Most of which already know Bdubs as his more excitable friendly self. He only finds out later when Bdubs complains about Etho's fans flaming him anytime he mentions him.

> Bdubs still has a self-imposed curfew, 10pm every night unless it conflicts with a show. He needs his beauty sleep.

> The trigger reason for the animosity toward Bdubs is due to being blamed by fans for the split of his last band that had a pretty hardcore cult following (OOG, I've not named their band yet), and that has since snowballed into what it is today, despite his actions being relatively harmless. To note, this was not an assumption at all promoted by either party, it was entirely a fanmade judgement.

> For those who can, picture s5 jungle Bdubs mixed with drunken OOG(E) ctm maps for his approximate personality. Still goofy but with a sharper tongue and a lot worse of a temper.

> Originally I considered Cleo as Bdubs' manager so he's not all alone in narrative sense, I still think it's not a bad idea I'd love to see her chew him out for acting like a moron. Ren or Scar would be also be options for manager.

> Bdubs needs a touring band, but I'm not well versed enough in the hermits to actually pick one out. Just a note.

Okay, that's most of it! There's some more pg-13 headcanons for this au, along the lines of fuck yeah rock'n roll lifestyle, but it's not really important I'm sure just that is enough to get the gist of it. Thank you for reading this overly long note. ^v~

#Definitely expect more stupid aus - ive been having a lot of fun throwing them into random scenarios #ive been watching a lot of older bdubs content lately and ive been loving his attitude #band au #bdubs #etho #birdie art #birdie writing #bdoubleo #bdoubleo100 #hope i did the alt text right - let me know if it needs fixing #bdouble100 fanart #bdoubleo fanart #ethoslab fanart #etho fanart #ethoslab #hermitcraft fanart #divorce duo

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artificial-transmutations · 1 year

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Max’ Journey - Nordic

When Max appeared in his new surroundings, he didn't have much time to react to the change of scenery. The first thing he felt was a significant drop in temperature that made Max, who was completely naked again, shiver. He was surrounded by grassy hills, some rocks and birch trees, and more importantly, a bunch of people who were shouting at him in a language he did not understand. He tried to speak back, but they only shouted louder. They were pointing at him with their swords, but he couldn't make any sense of what they were saying.

Then suddenly, one of the men pointed at Max with his sword and yelled something. Immediately, four burly armed men stepped forward and grabbed him. Max' newfound love for freedom as well as his cave man reflexes kicked in, and he struggled, but to no avail. He was held firmly by the arms and dragged into a nearby village by the coast, consisting mainly of wooden huts. Max tried to talk to them, tried all the languages he knew, but nobody understood him. There was a huge commotion between the Nordic looking people and the guy who saw him first was gesturing wildly.

They argued for a while, and Max could take in a bit more of his surroundings. The people here looked quite different than the ones in Rome. They had longer hair and lighter skin, and even though some of them wore leather armor, most were wearing clothes made of rough linen, fur and skins. It looked a lot like the portal had brought him into a Viking society. And although Max didn't understand their language, it was not hard for Max to guess that him appearing out of thin air might be troubling for those people. He just hoped that they did not decide to burn him at the stake for witchcraft or something like that.

It turns out that this wasn't their idea - but the alternative wasn't much better. After several minutes of discussion, he was dragged to a wooden block with some old bloodstains and cuts. Apparently, they were planning on beheading Max!

"Noooo! Please, don't kill me! I'm not a bad person! Just let me go!" cried Max desperately, but still nobody understood his language. Did he really barely escape the slave uprising in ancient Rome, just to die shortly after in the Viking age? He was about to start crying, when the crowd parted and a heavily tattooed old man wearing fur clothing appeared. He approached Max carefully and inspected him thoroughly before turning around and speaking a few sentences to the crowd. He then turned to Max again and reached into a pocket.

He produced a small clay vial and held it in his right hand. Then, with the other hand, he took a sword of one of the armed men and offered Max both hands.

It was clear to him that the old man, who appeared to be some kind of leader or shaman, offered him to choose. Max was fairly certain what the sword stood for, but the vial puzzled him. Was it poison? Was the old man offering him to kill himself instead of doing it for him? Or was it something else? Max needed to make a decision now.

Regardless of whether the vial contained poison, there was a chance to survive the contents, which was more than Max could say for the sword. So with the same rush of bravery, he felt when he joined the slave uprising, he took the vial and downed its contents in one go.

The liquid burned through his throat and into his stomach like fire. It felt like someone lit his insides on fire from the inside out and he screamed in agony. His eyes rolled up into his head and everything went black.

When he opened his eyes again, he realized that he had been thrown onto a pile of hay and straw and covered by furs. His insides still felt very warm, and his head was swimming, but it was just ember inside him now, not a burning pyre. Max groaned and looked around. He was inside one of the small wooden huts, and, apparently, he was still alive. Max groaned and tried, unsuccessful, to get up. However, the rustling of straw alerted another person who was inside the hut. It was a tall and burly Viking man with light brown hair, a short beard and blue linen clothes. He immediately got up and handed Max a wooden cup full of water, who took it gladly. The water was refreshing, and Max only now realized how thirsty he was. He gulped down the liquid quickly, and also the second and third cup the man brought him.

After drinking, Max finally had enough strength to sit upright. He looked at the man who had helped him: "Thank you... Who are you?"

The Viking man smiled at him kindly and said: "My name is Thjodolf." It took Max a few moments to realize that he could understand the other man. Instinctively, he had spoken in another language himself, probably some kind of Scandinavian dialect. He couldn't really say that he spoke the language in a sense that he would be able to translate anything to it. Yet, actually speaking it somehow worked.

Thjodolf noticed Max confusion and smiled warmly. "You must have a lot of questions, I am sure. And I will try to answer them all tomorrow, but for now, you need to rest. The magic potion must still be coursing through you violently."

Max nodded gratefully and laid back down on the straw bedding. He closed his eyes for a moment to regain his energy and fell asleep almost instantly.

When Max woke up the next morning, he felt much better. The burning inside him had reduced to a warm feeling and he felt really energized. When he looked around, Thjodolf was nowhere to be seen. Max didn't mind a bit of privacy. Under the furs, he was still naked and this way, he could walk a few steps without exposing himself too much. He got up and looked down on himself. Apparently, his body was changing yet again: He could clearly see the faint outline of muscles all over his body. The body hair, which stuck since he was a cave man had shifted to a lighter shade, appearing almost blonde now. When he brought his hands to his face, he could feel his fingers go through rough stubble on his chin and his hair seemed to be a bit longer as well. His pubes also had lightened to a dirty blonde shade, but it wasn't just this new contrast that made his dick look bigger. No, his package definitely had grown as well. He gave his dick a playful tug, feeling it chub up somewhat. Before he could explore any further however, the door suddenly opened.

"Oh", Thjodolf exclaimed, with a hint of amusement. "Do you want me to leave you alone for a few minutes?"

Max blushed bright red and shook his head hurriedly. "No! Of course not!"

Thjodolf laughed and walked closer to Max. He was carrying a basket with fresh bread and chuckled softly, as Max quickly covered his groin with one of the furs. "I'm glad you are feeling better."

"Yeah," Max replied with an embarrassed smile. "Thanks."

Thjodolf placed the basket down on the table and sat down beside Max. "I thought you might like some breakfast. Or you can first ask your questions. Whatever you like."

Max nodded and looked into Thjodolf's eyes. They were blue and looked warm and friendly. "Breakfast sounds amazing", Max said and took one of the offered pieces of bread. For a while, they sat silently, while Max was eating. The bread tasted really good, and Max was starving.

After he was finished, Thjodolf handed him a rough green linen piece, apparently some pants. "If you want to cover yourself." He looked away modestly while Max slipped on the piece of clothing. It was a bit big and felt comfortable even though it was obviously very basic.

"Thank you," Max said. "So where do I start? What is going on here?"

Thjodolf smiled gently. "You tell me. From what the others told me, you appeared out of thin blue, and that completely naked."

Max nodded, and then paused. "That is correct."

Thjodolf waited for a moment, but when Max obviously didn't want to explain any further, he continued. "Styrkar and his men witnessed your appearance and brought you back here. They thought you were a demon from what I hear and wanted to, well, send you back to where you came from. The man who saved you is Gunnald, our shaman. He had a vision from the Gods, he said, and they spoke to him through the bright yellow mists that a naked man would appear and that he must be given the magic potion."

Max nodded. "I remember that."

Thjodolf grinned at him. "He also told us that you were sent by the gods to help us fight the 'evil ones' who have attacked this village twice before. That the magic potion would help you become a great warrior."

"The evil ones?" Max asked curiously.

Thjodolf shrugged. "I don't know where they are coming from exactly. They are raiders who come by horse. We could barely fend them off the last time they attacked."

"I see," Max said and thought about this for a moment. "So, if I am supposed to protect you, how do I do that?"

Thjodolf snorted in amusement. "Your body is changing from the magic potion, I can see that already. When you were brought here, you were much weaker, and also a bit smaller, I think. You will become a great warrior for sure until Gunnald returns."

Max frowned. He had really wanted to talk to that shaman. 'Bright yellow mists' sounded a lot like the swirling yellow energy portals that were throwing him around in time and space like a ping pong ball. Perhaps a conversation with that Gunnald would shed some light on this whole mystery. However, Thjodolf seemed to be more than eager to move on with their conversation, so Max decided to follow his lead and ask his next question.

"So, am I... your prisoner?"

Thjodolf looked surprised for a moment but then burst out laughing again. "No, no! You're free to go whenever you want! Of course, we would like you to stay and protect us, but you are free to do whatever you want."

"Well, thank you," Max said politely and looked at Thjodolf closely. "You seem to care about me a lot."

Thjodolf looked at him quizzically. "Of course! Who wouldn't want to help someone who has just appeared out of nowhere? Besides, you are quite handsome!"

Max blushed slightly but couldn't help smiling at Thjodolf's compliment. Apparently, the outburst was a bit embarrassing for Thjodolf, too, and he looked away.

"Thank you." said Max.

During the next days, Thjodolf cared for Max devotedly, although Max was feeling better quickly. His changes proceeded fast: He was quickly putting on muscles and gained a fair bit of height. His hair hat lightened to a bright blonde and his face quickly gained Nordic features.

With each passing hour, the cold bothered Max less and less, and each time he looked down on himself, more swirly tattoos formed on his skin. It wasn't long before he found himself looking like an ancient Viking warrior.

When he walked around the village, Max found himself accepted by the villagers quickly. Apparently, the story of him and the magic potion had spread through the village, and everyone was friendly to him. Even Styrkar apologized to him for wanting to kill him, which Max found a nice gesture.

After a few days, when he had dinner with Thjodolf, Max asked him: "Do you mind if I ask you something?"

Thjodolf raised one eyebrow curiously but nodded anyway. "Of course not."

"I noticed that the other villagers are kind of... avoiding you. I also did not see you the day I arrived here. What is it about you?"

Thjodolf chuckled softly before he looked a bit sad. "Well, let's say I'm different from the other men of the village."

Max looked at him curiously. "How so?"

Thjodolf sighed deeply. "I do not love women, but... other men."

Max stared at him blankly. That was all? Thjodolf was shunned because he was gay?

Thjodolf laughed nervously and shook his head. "Oh, don't worry about it. The other men don't hate me or anything. They just don't understand why I prefer other men instead of women."

Max smiled gently. "That must be difficult for you. Where I am from, this is considered pretty normal." Max thought for a moment. "In fact, I prefer the company of men as well, you know?"

Thjodolf blinked several times in surprise and looked at Max carefully. Then he grinned happily. "Really? I mean, I have never met anyone who preferred men before."

Max shrugged. "As I said. It's nothing special. In fact, I suspected something like that when you called me handsome the other day."

Thjodolf flushed red and looked away shyly. "I... I didn't meant..."

Max put his hand on Thjodolf's shoulder and gave him a warm smile. "It's alright. I am glad you find me attractive."

Thjodolf turned back to look at him again. "I... I do."

"Good," Max said and took Thjodolf into his arms. He felt the Vikings heart beat fast - or was it his own? Either way, he was happy to feel it beating strongly against his chest.

"You smell good," Thjodolf murmured after a while.

"Do I?" Max asked, surprised.

Thjodolf nodded eagerly, his eyes a deep sea of blue. "Yes! You smell like pine needles and sunshine."

Max smiled and rubbed his nose against Thjodolf's neck. He liked the scent of leather and sweaty skin. It smelled good, natural. He tenderly stroked the other man’s muscled arms. "I like your smell too."

Thjodolf leaned forward and pressed his lips against Max's. They were soft and gentle, but they still sent a shock through Max's body and made his knees weak. He returned the kiss with equal passion and pulled Thjodolf closer until their bodies touched. When they broke apart, both of them were breathing heavily.

"I want you," Thjodolf whispered in a husky voice.

Max nodded and pushed Thjodolf onto his bed. "Then take me."

Thjodolf moaned softly and crawled over Max's body. His kisses were slow and sensual, making Max shudder with excitement. Finally, Thjodolf lay down on top of him and kissed him deeply. Their tongues explored each other hungrily and their hands roamed everywhere.

Max gasped as he felt Thjodolf's hard cock pressing against his thigh. He reached out to touch it and was rewarded by a gasp from the Viking.

"I want you inside me," Thjodolf whispered between breaths.

Max nodded and rolled over, pulling Thjodolf along with him. He pinned the other man to the bed and started kissing his neck and shoulders. Thjodolf groaned loudly and spread his legs wider, exposing himself completely to Max.

"Please," Thjodolf begged. "I need you."

"I will give you what you need," Max promised, moving down Thjodolf’s body until he could reach his cock. It was already fully erect and throbbing in anticipation. Max wrapped his hand around Thjodolf's shaft and stroked him slowly. Thjodolf whimpered in pleasure.

"Oh gods," he moaned. "I've wanted this for so long."

"Me too," Max said and aligned his hard and throbbing cock with Thjodolf’s hole. He pushed inside slowly, letting his tip slide past the tight ring of muscles. Thjodolf let out a loud groan and grabbed Max's hips tightly.

"Fuck me!" Thjodolf pleaded.

Max thrust harder, pushing himself deeper inside Thjodolf’s ass. The Viking grunted in pain and bit his lip hard, but then relaxed and closed his eyes in blissful enjoyment.

"That feels amazing," Thjodolf whispered.

Max kept up his pace, slamming into Thjodolf with increasing force and speed. The Viking groaned again and dug his fingers into Max's hip bones. He tried to keep quiet, but his voice cracked in half as he screamed: "Harder! Fuck me harder!"

Max obeyed at once and slammed into Thjodolf faster and faster. His balls slapped against Thjodolf's butt cheeks every time he bottomed out inside him. Thjodolf's moans grew louder and more desperate and soon he was crying out in ecstasy instead of pain.

Max growled low in his throat as he felt his orgasm building. He pounded Thjodolf even harder than before, driving his cock deep inside the Viking without mercy. Thjodolf cried out one last time and came violently, spilling his seed all over the sheets beneath them.

Max followed suit a moment later, emptying his own load deep inside Thjodolf.

Panting heavily, the two sweating men held each other tightly. They stayed that way for some time, until finally, they fell asleep together, exhausted by their lovemaking.

The next days were the best ones in Max' live. Even though being gay was not considered quite normal in the Viking village, Thjodolf and him faced no malice, and both men were in seventh heaven. For the first time in both of their lives, they explored hot and intense sex with each other. Both of them were eager to try new things and explore every inch of each other’s bodies. But they also resonated in mind and soul - they were in deep love.

Those happy days seemed like they could last forever, but one night, when Thjodolf and Max were in a tender embrace again, a loud horn disrupted the silence and ripped apart the lovers peace.

"The raiders.", Thjodolf whispered, his face ashen suddenly. They both stormed outside and saw, in the middle of the night, the torches of many riders approaching. They were a lot, a lot more than even all of the village men combined. Although Max body had transformed into a strong Viking warrior, he didn't see a way this could end well. Suddenly, he was experiencing the uprising once more. People dying left and right, screams and blood. Max exhaled. They had no chance, and he knew it. "No..." he whispered softly. "We can't fight them."

Max looked at Thjodolf helplessly. He couldn't bear seeing him die here, having just met him such a short time ago.

To make matters worse, in this very moment, a swirling vortex of yellow energy materialized right next to him, a silent invitation for Max and Max alone.

"No... not yet. I can't..." Max whispered and then shouted at the portal: "I can't leave like that! You cannot do that to me!"

Suddenly, he felt a hand on his muscular arm. Thjodolf smiled at him, sad but encouragingly. He spoke softly: "I don't understand what is going on here, but I do understand that you cannot escape fate. You need to follow through. Don't worry. We will survive, one way or the other. And some day, you will come back to me, and then you will return this to me."

With these words, he took off his necklace and handed it to Max, who could feel tears filling up his eyes. It was no use. If he didn't enter the portal, he would never be able to return to his own time, and he would not be able to save the villagers here either. "Thank you, Thjodolf. For everything."

Tears were running down Max cheek, as he finally jumped into the portal, leaving Thjodolf and his Viking village behind.

That was a long one. You can read how it all started here or just the previous episode here. The next episode can be found here.

#male transformation #time travel #Max Journey #racial transformation #muscle transformation #romance #gay love

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thatturtleleon · 9 months

Text

Ramble about the TFP kids

sometimes I feel like people misinterpret these three, especially Miko and Jack. i've seen others write Miko off as an annoying girl who messes up everything, and jack as a boring/bland character. I actually haven't seen much "hate" on raf, we all love raf lol.

and of course, everyone is entitled to their own opinion, i totally understand being annoyed by the humans and just wanting the transformer action ! but for me personally, i've always really liked their dynamic and personalities in TFP. i love how much they act like siblings, and how they're so different from each other but love each other like family. we also have to remember they're still kids, so they're gonna act like kids.

Miko runs into situations head first, she acts before she thinks. yes, this gets her in trouble a lot but it also makes her quick to take action in dangerous situations (even if she was the one her got herself in that situation in the first place). i love how she's not afraid to be herself, she's loud, states her opinion, wears those funky shoes, etc. it's just her character yk? she's a wrecker, she's tough and does what she wants, but she also cares about her friends and isn't afraid to express that. an example i can think of off the top of my head is in that one episode about the three being stuck in an alternate dimension; raf dropped his glasses and although miko teased him about it, she still ran and got the glasses back.

now for Jack, he's pretty much the opposite of Miko. that doesn't mean he lacks character and/or personality though. his personality IS being average, introverted, and overall a pretty neutral guy. unlike miko and raf, he doesn't want anything to do with the bots at first. he's also incredibly selfless and caring. and those qualities are ones that i think some people tend to overlook. when jack's bully, vince, got captured by knockout, he still wanted to save him. despite vince being an absolute asshole. jack also risks his life for people he cares about, as well as people he doesn't. not to mention he and miko snap back and forth, so both of them are at least similar in the sassy department lol.

as for Raf, i know i said i haven't really seen hate on his character but i'm gonna talk about him anyways. him being able to understand bumblebee makes a lot of sense to me and isn't just some "random quirky ability he has". number one, raf is extremely smart, and very good with computers, so it makes sense that'd he'd be good at decoding and understanding what bumblebee's beeps mean. (idk anything about computers and coding and all of that so i'm just assuming that has something to do with him being able to understand bumblebee LMAO, honestly i might look into this and make a separate post abt it). secondly, raf and bumblebee are pretty similar, so that's another reason they are greater at understanding each other. they're both the youngest in their groups (from what i remember) and they each struggle with being understood, even by their own family.

in conclusion for this little ramble here, i love the TFP kids so much and their personalities are really fun to analyze. as well as the relationships they have with each other and the bots. i think that's another thing i really enjoy about TFP and the humans, the human-bot relationships. yes they're guardians to the kids but they eventually become family to each other. and as ratchet says, "they've grown to need each other". the kids aren't just some random humans who hang out at the base, they help out on missions and, as i've said a billion times in this post, they've become family.

note: i'm sick and slightly delirious while writing this so hopefully everything makes sense and isnt too repetitive lol, also please feel free to ramble in the comments or add onto this, i love reading them <3

#can you tell i love the found family trope lololollll #transformers prime #transformers #tf #tfp #tf prime #tfp humans #tfp kids #tfp jack #tfp miko #tfp raf #macaddams #macaddam #tfp character analysis

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