#this is less of a thing I’m ignoring and more of a this makes no sense thing but

[love-that-we-were-in]

betting on all three for us two

pairing: frat!luke castellan x reader summary: you think you like being a little more friendly and a little less competition with luke castellan this year. a sequel to this fic word count: 3.1k warnings: none

author's note: frat luke my dearly beloved loser son who studies pre-med this is for you you know who you are i love you

1. 

The fall semester comes at you faster than you’d like, this rapid change from a golden summer to the crisp air of being back on campus. You’re rooming with someone from an old anthropology elective you took, Silena finally moving into her sorority house. It should feel weirder, how everything has changed since spring break. 

You take the opportunity to build new habits. Early runs, no caffeine after 2pm. Little things that make the day go a tiny bit faster, building blocks to fit around your class schedule. Silena schedules weekly lunches for the three of you and there’s this gravity to it all that you want to study. 

It had been nice to be home for a few months. Your mom had missed having you there, being able to show you the new flowers she planted, how the lemon tree in the yard is twisting weirdly. Board games and family dinners and friends who never left your town. Being back home was resetting. Being back on campus was restarting.

Lee catches you as you leave the gym, offering to walk you to class if you’re heading in that direction. You smile, telling him that you have a late start and pretend he doesn’t frown when your phone buzzes. He mentions that he’s thinking of starting a study group for one of your classes and you tell him you’ll think about joining. 

While he heads towards the main building, you make your way to the campus coffee shop - caught behind the early risers desperate for something to get them through their first lecture of the day. 

“Can I get a flat white and an iced americano with caramel to go please?” You smile at the girl working the counter, stepping aside to glance at your watch.

You run through your schedule for today, ignoring the text that comes through. You know exactly what it says, the same thing every morning, and you don’t even bother to roll your eyes at this point. 

“I can’t believe you ignored my text,” Luke says when you reach the courtyard between the library and the medical building. “Not even a flame emoji.”

You stop in front of him, drinking in the jeans and sweater combination he’s settled on today. It’s a really nice sweater, dark blue and a little baggy. You wonder how quickly he’d notice it going missing. Probably not as quickly as he’d notice the stupid hat he’s wearing go missing. His backpack leans against the bench, pristine.

“No one uses those except you,” you shake your head, handing him the iced drink. “What time does your lecture start?” 

Luke tells you as if he really needs to. It’s this thing you’ve started doing since the semester began, acting like you don’t know his schedule as well as your own. As if the both of you haven’t fallen into this routine in just a few weeks. Like it’s not a highlight of your day. 

Clarisse thinks it’s adorable. Chris thinks it’s hilarious. You think it’s nice to have someone to share your free time with, beyond whatever else you and Luke have. It had been a fear of yours, when Silena mentioned not sharing a dorm with you, that you would fall to the sidelines. That life would come with these new priorities for everyone and you would only be fourth or fifth on their lists, too cemented in the day-to-day that you’d be forgotten.

Morning coffee with Luke stops that fear. 

“Did Silena tell you about the party on Friday?” 

“I have a study group in the afternoon,” Luke says, swirling his plastic cup around so the ice clinks together. “If I do go, I’m showing up late.” 

“Maybe I’ll keep my eye out for you there, Castellan.” 

He laughs and it’s like summer again. There’s something insane about hearing Luke laugh like this, unbroken and loud, nothing like it had been over the phone while you were back home. 

“You’ve got dinner with Silena and Clarisse tonight, right?” He asks, swinging his bag over one shoulder. You throw your empty cup into the trash can as you both start walking. “Is there any point in asking if you want to come round after?”

You knock his arm with your shoulder, laughing, and, instead of feigning hurt like usual, Luke just takes your hand in his, the skin a little colder than you expect. Gazing down at your linked hands, you bite your lip before sighing. 

“If I’m home before eleven, I’ll consider it.” 

Last year, when you first met him, you thought Luke only got that determined glint in his eyes when he was competing. That it was a sign of an unanticipated thrill. Since then, you’ve learnt that it’s not that at all. It’s this thing that ignites within him, determined and passionate and a little boyish. 

You think it might be one of your favorite things about him.

“I will take that deal.”

2. 

You wish you could say you were a little drunk. At least that way you would have something to blame. As it stands, you’re stone cold sober, maybe a little tired from class but nothing that can really be blamed for the lack of weight your actions seem to have right now. 

The only thing you can blame, and you will, is the boy next to you, completely engrossed in the movie playing. They’d been watching it when you arrived, all settled on the couches and you assume this is something they do regularly, and at any other time you might’ve called it cute. 

Not tonight. Not when you walked in to the discovery that Luke wears glasses and you didn’t know about it. It was something you played off, making a joke and settling into the cushions beside him. In the time since, Chris has left for his date with Clarisse and Charlie has pulled out some work to go through in the corner of the room. 

“What’s up?” Luke asks when he realizes you’ve hardly moved in ten minutes, barely even breathing. And it’s the worst possible thing he could do, glance down through the frames with that small smile you’ve gotten used to and curls loose. 

“Nothing’s up,” you let your eyes trail back to the screen. “This is a very cute tradition you guys have going on.” 

Charlie lets out a little laugh from across the room. You feel the way Luke exhales against the side of your face. You think you’re able to go back to pretending everything is normal, make a joke and enjoy the rest of the movie. The second you feel Luke’s fingertips on the skin of your knee, gentle and warm, you know you can’t. 

“You’re swerving,” he whispers, throwing a quick glance at Charlie to see if he can hear but the other boy is engrossed in his work. “Talk to me.” 

“It’s nothing,” you bite the inside of your cheek when he nods encouragingly, incredibly aware of the patterns he’s tracing on your skin. “I just think it’s interesting that you’d choose to wear a hat all the time when the glasses are right there.” 

“What?”

His hand stills and you wait. You wait and you stare at the shape of his jaw and you chuckle when it finally clicks, his adam’s apple shifting as he swallows the conclusion down. “Are you saying you like my glasses?” 

You don’t like how uneven this all feels. Whenever you’ve been with Luke so far, there’s been this mutual balance that you’ve grown used to. Even before now, back when you were locked in silly competitions, you did it on even footing, the expectation that everything meant nothing and you wouldn’t be affected. 

This, the way Luke grins around the realization, hand moving to rest on your thigh, is different. It’s heavier. It’s a loss after a winning streak and you’re kind of obsessed with the way it could drag you down. 

“I just think that hat is stupid.” 

“Yeah, okay,” Luke nods and you know, even if he doesn’t do it outright, he’s laughing. He’s categorizing the information you’ve just given him, placing it where it belongs in his mind, and it’s going to bite you in the ass. “Tell me more.” 

“Luke,” you mutter, gritting your teeth. His fingertips brush against the hem of your shorts and, when you glare at him for it, he just shrugs. You throw a glance over in Charlie’s direction. Still nothing. “Are you insane?” 

He tilts his head like he’s considering the question carefully. If Charlie were to look over, you know he’d assume you were locked in a debate about something silly - a staple of you and Luke - and it wouldn’t matter. He wouldn’t know for a second that you were holding onto Luke’s wrist, his hand itching to move just a little to the left. 

You sigh and the boy beside you raises an eyebrow. You both know that you’ve lost this round. 

When you press your lips to his bicep as the film credits roll, warm even through the fabric of his shirt, you mumble, “I really like your glasses.” 

3.

You aren’t used to watching things from a crowd. You’re used to focusing on yourself, on your team - not watching from a distance, surrounded by people who are there purely for enjoyment. There’s no winning from the stands. 

Luke doesn’t know you’re here. You’d sent him a text that morning wishing him luck, arranging to meet him when his debate was over. You hadn’t bothered to message him when your afternoon class got canceled, choosing instead to race across campus and find a seat in the dim auditorium they’re using. 

There isn’t the crackle of energy you get from swimming, or from watching Luke during track sessions. It’s less intense, for sure, a balance between the fire you know exists within him when he’s competing and the confidence he has in his own intelligence. You’ve argued with Luke, stupid things that neither of you care to take too seriously, and this is just the next stage of that. 

He’s got his glasses on, you note, when the debate gets underway. He’s wearing his lucky green polo, even if he’d never personally call it that, and he’s switched his smartwatch out for an analogue one. The cheap biro you’re used to seeing him use has been replaced by a fancy silver pen that he still taps against his thigh while thinking. He’s sitting straighter than usual, shoulders back. 

It’s almost like meeting him for the first time, focused and confident and sharp at the edges. 

You’re kind of obsessed with it. 

An hour and a winning handshake later, you make your way through the small crowd leaving to find Luke in conversation with one of his teammates. She smiles as you wrap an arm around his waist from behind, the slight tension still lingering in his bones melting away when he realizes it’s you. 

“What are you doing here?” He says, turning enough that he’s actually facing you now. The girl waves you both goodbye. “I thought you had class.” 

“Professor Chase had to cancel. His daughter got sent home from school with a fever.” 

Luke nods, pressing his lips to the top of your head quickly. “You didn’t have to come to my debate.” 

In the few months you’ve known Luke, you’ve learnt more about him than you expected to. You know from summer that Connecticut means looking after his sick mother, that he’s hoping to introduce some new charity events to ksig, that he used to go to a summer camp growing up. You know that his dad never showed up for anything and that he sits in the stands of all of your swim meets regardless of whether it cuts into his study time or not.

More than all of that, you know that the way he’s gazing at you now, a cross between awe and something deeper, is going to drive you crazy one day. You hope he can read the same expression on your face. 

“Thank you for coming,” he says when everyone is finally dismissed, an arm thrown across your shoulders as you make your way out of the building. You loop a finger around one of his, just because you want to. “It means a lot.”

“I told you I would,” and you had, months ago, staring at Luke’s bedroom ceiling, back when you were still caught in the casualness of it all. When Luke was just someone you pretended you weren’t trying to bump into at parties. You’d told him that you would show up for him if you ever got the chance. He’d rolled his eyes, throwing a blanket over you both and told you to go to sleep. He’d drifted off with his nose pressed against your neck. “I keep my word, Castellan.” 

“I know.”

In the evening light of campus, you think it might mean something more. Buried under the timing and the bitter wind until it’s a promise only you and Luke could translate. Asking him about where he wants to go for dinner, you like that no one else could understand the depth of it. 

+1.

Silena catches your attention as you enter the kitchen, grinning wildly and explaining her concept for tonight. Drew gave her permission to throw this week’s party, something themed and fun and it’s something she’s so proud of that you can’t help but grin back at her energy. 

“Even Charlie came,” she tells you excitedly, handing you a drink. “I feel like tonight is going to be it.” 

In all the years you’ve known her, she’s been counting down to it. You don’t exactly understand the fundamentals of what it is, if it’s a real thing or something she can just sense intrinsically. There have been moments where she’s thought of it before, mentioned it offhandedly before shaking her head - as if knowing she was wrong. 

“What even is it?” You ask and, for the first time, she breathes deeply instead of shrugging it off. 

“The beginning of the end,” she says and that doesn’t exactly explain anything. “Everything is about to change.” 

You still don’t really get it, but she’s as confident in this as she is about her clothes, so you nod like you understand. She sends you away not long after that, turning her attention to the new group that’s just walked through the doorway, mentioning that you need to be in the basement in about an hour and you just accept your fate, moving into the next room and falling into conversation with Rachel. 

*

Luke slips into the basement just as Silena starts yelling for everyone to do so, catching your eye across the room and waving. When you’re all instructed to sit down in a circle, you wonder exactly what Silena has planned for tonight. When she places a near empty bottle down in the center of you all, you laugh. 

“Are we actually playing spin the bottle?” Chris asks, prompting a murmured chorus of agreement from everyone else in the room. Silena frowns at him. 

“Wanna bet he ends up getting the most into it?” Luke whispers in your ear and you raise an eyebrow at him. “Loser has to buy the coffee tomorrow morning.” 

“You’re on,” you bump your fist to his to seal the deal. “I think he’s gonna get bored by round 3.” 

“Only boring people get bored of this game. It’s about drive.” 

“It’s about power?” Luke lets out a laugh and Silena turns her glare to you. “Sorry.”

She starts to explain the rules of the game, as if you’re all twelve again, and you bite your lip harder with every comment Luke makes under his breath. It’s a little mean, a little stupid, and you wish you were fifteen again, playing a proper game of spin the bottle for the first time.

Nothing much happens for the first few rounds, Chris starting to grumble the longer the game goes on. Luke clicks his tongue when you point it out, cursing his best friend like this was the worst thing that could’ve happened to him. 

Lee spins and it’s like cosmic interference when the bottle stops between you and Luke, the two of you glancing at each other and then back towards Lee. 

“Should I spin it again?” Lee asks when no one says anything. Silena shakes her head and says, “You can choose or we can vote if that makes you more comfortable.” 

“Please let us vote,” Chris shouts, animated and you narrow your eyes at him, ignoring the smug smile Luke gives you. “I’ll never ask you for anything ever again.” 

Lee glances between you both again, at where your knee rests against Luke’s thigh and the beer you’ve been sharing for the past twenty minutes sits between you. “It might be better to vote.” 

“Sure,” Silena smiles before silencing you all. “Everyone that wants Lee to kiss Luke, raise your hands.” 

You raise your hand and Luke mumbles beside you, flicking your leg and you poke him in return. Anything to avoid kissing Lee Fletcher after two years of avoiding it. 

“That is an overwhelming majority,” Silena says and you know, just by the way her eyes slide over to you, that she didn’t even bother to actually count. “Lee, you may now kiss Luke.” 

There’s this moment where you think Lee is going to just leave but instead he stares at the boy next to you, the relaxed set to his jaw, the annoying baseball cap on his head, how he’s so unbothered by it all. You watch as something clicks in his mind, you really want to know what it is. 

Whatever it was, it makes him grab the bottle again, ignoring Silena’s protests. It lands on the girl from Luke’s debate team and she straightens her back ever so slightly. 

“Silena,” Lee says as he leans towards the girl. “I’m not going to kiss Luke or his girlfriend.”

“Damn straight,” Luke mumbles, grabbing your hand from your lap and holding it in his instead. It’s stupid and it really doesn’t matter to either of you, you know that, but there’s this way he says it - almost like it’s the worst thing he could’ve imagined - and it settles in your gut with the beer you’ve been drinking. “Me or my girlfriend.”

“I’d really like to meet her,” you say, laughing when he huffs and pulls his hat down on your head. When you push the visor up to see him properly, all rosy cheeks and compacted curls, you think you might have found it. Whatever it is.

Based on the way Luke’s nose scrunches and his eyes crinkle, you think he understands that too. 

#luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #percy jackson and the olympians #pjo #luke castellan x you

[atlasnessie]

hii i saw ur requests were open and i decided to make one :3, how the bsd men would act when they are lovesick? Like not yandere and those twisted things, but they just feel like a teenager boy in highschool with their first love, nothing else than pure fluff =w=" i honestly dont care which characters you add, but id really like to see fyodor in there ;P.

Bonus points if the reader is just so gentle, kind and pure with everyone ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა!! You can ignore this request, take your time. I hope you have a good day and thanks for reading me :DD

GOD, IM SO LOVESICK. WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO ME ?

osamu and chuuya slowly realizing that they’re in love with you.

an: FINALLY FINISHED THIS OMG anon im so sorry it took so long also i’m … still unsure of how to write fyodor ughh ikk embarrassing !! hope this is okay nonnie :((

OSAMU DAZAI never had the chance of falling in love. everything ended one sided, a side that would benefit him and him only. he’s lived long enough to know that he was not worthy of such a delicate feeling; everything he has and wishes to have will all disintegrate as soon as he has it. dazai was not willing to risk it. not now, not ever.

at least, that’s what he wants to believe.

dazai can’t shake off this feeling when being around with you. he stands by the roadside of the sidewalk when walking with you, voluntarily giving his coat when the weather gets chilly, and surprisingly have enough money to buy you some good coffee (and not put it on a tab). he doesn’t know why he’s doing this, it’s not like he’s into you, but his thoughts wander off to wanting to feel your hands on his, to know how his first name would sound from your lips instead of his surname. and once he realizes he’s in love, he’s gone.

lovesick isn’t something dazai had ever felt. romance and osamu dazai should never be in the same sentence, they don’t belong together.

“you’ve been avoiding my texts, my calls, and now ignoring my knocks on your door ?” you stand in front of the paint chipping door, a bento in one hand and a finger pointing at his chest with the other. dazai looked terrible, his eye bags more apparent and the stench of alcohol from inside could make a lightweight drunk at the smell.

“ah, whatever do you mean —”

“you know what i mean, dazai. i’ve gotten calls from kunikida telling me that you haven’t shown up to work for a week ! he can’t even enter your apartment and he calls you every morning to check that you’re okay.”

you pushed your way inside his apartment before he could speak. this wasn’t the first time you’ve been in here, and was definitely not your second. or third. or fourth, or fifth, or however amount of times you’ve been here. dazai can’t remember.

placing the bento down on the cheap wooden table, the color of the lunch box was the only bright thing in the whole house. dazai quickly closed the door, almost tripping on your shoes before speed walking behind you. if he’d known you’d come in, in which he probably did, he would’ve cleaned and tided up a little beforehand. your eyes darted around the room before unboxing the bento.

“sit down. i made you something to eat.” your voice was quiet, but a little higher than a whisper. the aroma of fresh, real food made dazai’s mouth water.

“at your command, then.” dazai responded back, pulling a creaky chair and sitting, his eyes shining dull as he heard the sound of wooden chopsticks break.

“here, you eat. i’ll clean.”

“awh, i was hoping you’d feed me.” chocolate brown eyes met with yours, faking tears to brim out of his eyes as he lazily held the chopsticks, holding it as if he had never seen them before. an excuse. this was an excuse. not for you to feed him, though, he’d most certainly love that, but for you to not clean up the mess he had made. the cluster of sake bottles and canned crab made his apartment look less pleasing to look at.

“eat. i’ll clean.” your voice was persistent as you pushed the bento closer to him. grumbling, dazai pick up an egg roll and inspected it. how stupid, he thought. a toothpick shaped as a cat stood idle in the middle of the roll, its dark void eyes staring at his. it looks a lot like you, naive and ever so …

shit. thoughts like this shouldn’t be running in his head. you’re just a co-worker, afterall. right ? though … dazai has to admit; the food that’s on the bento tastes better than anything ever, and the soft hum of your voice lulls his worries away.

to be loved is to be known, he thinks.

CHUUYA NAKAHARA has no time for feelings outside of the port mafia, but you’re an exception. the sun sets slowly on the horizon of yokohama, and the wind is just right for a nice breeze. the picnic cloth is laid on the ground as chuuya swirls his glass of wine, watching as you talk about your day. you weren’t anything special, hell, it was total coincidence that you two even met.

a civilian and an executive of the port mafia. what a story to tell. but you weren’t aware of chuuyas profession, no, why would he break the trust that built up and took so long to gain ? he wouldn’t dare, he couldn’t.

“and then, while i was walking home today, i bumped into some guy and he was all like, ‘double suicide’ this and ‘double suicide’ that. scared the hell out of me ..!” you laugh and take a sip of your own wine and out of the corner of your eyes, you can see chuuyas shoulders tense up.

“he didn’t … he didn’t have some weirdass bandages all over … did he ?” chuuya grumbled as he pressed the wine glass to his lips, hiding his irritation.

“oh, he did. it was really weird.”

fuck ..!! chuuya though, grinding his teeth together just at the thought of that disgusting man. his thoughts of killing dazai were interrupted as you point at the sky.

“look, isn’t it pretty ?” you sigh, placing your hands behind you and leaning back. the sky was painted a radiant orange, complemented by pink and yellow. chuuya blinks and stares into the horizon, the corner of his eyes shifting back to you subtly. his chest tightens and—

oh, how he’s smitten. maybe it’s the wine, maybe it’s the gentle rays of the sun, but his face feels hot and he leans closer to you, bringing up a hand and tucking in longer strands of hair behind your ear. you turn your head as chuuya stops midway, your hair falling out of his fingers. leaning back, chuuya coughs and plays it off, pouring himself another drink.

“sorry. looked like it was bothering you.” he mumbled, biting the rim of his glass before taking a sip, his gaze avoiding yours.

it’s the little things, but to him, he wants to do more than subtle hints of love. this is a start, at least.

#bungo stray dogs #bsd #bungo stray dogs x reader #bsd x reader #bsd dazai #bsd chuuya #bungo stray dogs dazai #bungo stray dogs chuuya #chuuya x reader #dazai x reader #chuuya x you #dazai x you #atlas writes !

[cameronslilypad]

find me through my dealer - part four

summary: you and rafe have been in the same friend group for a while now, so you could be considered close, when he finds out you have a dealer who isn't him he demands you cut them off and use him instead. you both work out an arrangement you get 'discounts' and in return do him 'favours' (but are they really favours if the both of you enjoy it a little too much?) because that's what friends are for right? friends?

part one part two part three

you wake up to your phone ringing right next you your ear, you jolted up at the sheer shock you felt.

“what.” you ask without even looking at who’s calling you, you’re not in the mood for whoever just interrupted your sleep.

“woah, no need for the tone” he says with a light hearted chuckle, it’s rafe on the other end. you should’ve fucking guessed. although why would you’ve he’d barely spoken to you recently.

“alright, sure” you groan, already fed up with his bullshit.

“come see me” he begs, only now that you’ve woken up a bit you can tell by his tone of voice, and the light husk it carries. he’s high.

“i’m good” you respond. you’re still half asleep and cant be bothered to entertain whatever he wants you for.

“c’mon baby, i’ve got something for you” baby? he was literally ignoring you yesterday, what is this shit he’s playing at? but the need you can hear in his voice is what’s convincing you.

“okay” you hang up straight away, your hangover surprisingly isn’t that bad but you’re not feeling perfect so a bit of time will be needed to leave the house.

knock knock. its only been around 25 minutes since you were on the phone with rafe and you’re already at his doorstep.

“come in” rafe lets you in, wrapping his arms around waist, head ducked down so his chin is on your shoulder, as he leads you up to his bedroom. you sit cross legged on his bed, your not quite sure what to do with yourself.

“i was doing some of this and thought it would be fun for us to do it together. only if you want” he clarifies sitting next to you and pulling out a small baggie filled with white powder. to this your mouth upturns into a slight smirk and you nod.

“you sure? i pre rolled you four joints for you if you don’t wanna do this” his eyebrows furrow as his eyes stare directly into your own. the genuine look in his eyes is making your head hurt, this was the same guy that fucked you last night practically without saying a word. you ignore that, you don’t want to ruin this time because of the past, even if it was less that 24 hours ago, maybe he wasn’t having a good day?

“you think i can’t handle it?” you tease, trying to change the mood from his caringness which is making you feel things you shouldn’t.

“oh don’t worry baby, i know you can take it” he chuckles and gets his phone out, opens the baggie and pours a small line onto the back of his phone which he passes to you.

“i’ve already crushed it so you can do it straight away” he tells you reaching behind him to get a rolled up bill from his bedside table, which he quickly passes to you. you feel the powder funnel up your nose, you quickly tilt your head up so it all stays up there. you use your finger to collect the little bit of dust still on rafes phone and rub it on your gums before passing his phone back to him. you’ve only just realized his eyes hadn’t seemed to have left you once, they’re slightly unfocused. who are you kidding, it’s probably from the lines he took before you even got there.

“i wanna try something m’kay but you need to tell me if at any point your not into it” he says gently, his touch is just as gentle as his thumb strokes your jaw.

“mhm, i can do that” you softly smile at him. in response he quickly throws his shirt off and chucks it into a corner of his room, unable to care less about where it went. he was a lot more careful when taking yours off, softly prying the fabric off your body and placing a soft kiss to your shoulder. he stood up, grabbing your wrist to stand with him but he quickly sinks to his knees in front of you pulling your bottoms down slow, unbearably slow. once you’d stepped your ankles out of them he gave your ass a quick squeeze and a chased kiss to your clothed clit before hurriedly standing up and shoving his jeans off of himself.

“right” he breathes out laying back on his bed and patting the space next to him, you comply and sit awaiting his next move. rafe pulls his boxers down slightly, to show his v line. you realize you’re starting to faintly feel the effects of the coke when he pulled the baggie back out, your confused and a bit concerned about where he just pulled it out of since he’d already taken his trousers off. him pouring a small amount of the powder in the line between his abs.

his abs, oh my days.

“here” he whispers out forcing your gaze away from his defined stomach and to his hand stretching the same rolled up bill towards you. you repeat the same actions you did merely five minutes ago, tilting your head up you see rafe looking at your, eyes dark and bottom lip pulled in between his teeth.

“one more baby” his voice is huskier now, the gravel to it makes your thighs clench a little, involuntarily. he pours the next one onto his v-line and pats his chest, which you take as your invitation to carefully straddle it, your back towards him. as you slowly lean your head down to where the perfect line of coke is rafe starts playfully snapping your thong in place whilst using the other hand to massage your ass. you have to retract your head to let out a deep breath, not risking the air blowing the powder away. once you finish the line you switch the positions of your legs and move a further down his body, so your still straddling him but your facing each other. you just sit there his hands moving up and down his sides, yours tracing the lines of his abs. it was now you were properly feeling your high, your head was feeling light and you weren’t positive that you had a nose or any teeth, but you were loving it. the moment between you and rafe lasted mere seconds but it felt like hours, not enough hours in your opinion.

“my turn” rafe finally says, his smirk so wide your surprised his face isn’t hurting. he unclips your bra and immediately puts his hands on your boobs, pinching your nipples then massaging the flesh. he lifts you off of him and lays you down on the bed. you weren’t sure what you expected but it wasn’t him pouring a line of coke directly onto your nipple, you were sure you’d never been this wet before and he hasn’t even touched you.

“best line i’ve ever done” he tells you, head now in the crook of your neck as his teeth graze your earlobe. your body shivers at this and your hips ever so slightly raise from the bed.

“hands and knees for me” rafe tells you, stroking your hair before moving from on top of you so you’re able to change your position. as soon as rafe is behind you he’s pulling your underwear to the side using his fingers to spread your wetness up to your clit. he couldn’t wait any longer, he pushes his boxers down just enough for his cock to spring out of the fabric and immediately he’s slowly pushing into you. once he’d bottomed out he let out the most ungodly groan which made you gush around him.

“you like that huh? don’t worry, i like hearing you too” rafe chuckles into your ear, having pressed his body onto yours. pulling back to his original position, starting to thrust into you with a hard steady pace that is making your body jolt forward. one of his hands moves from the bruising grip on you waist to your hair, tugging your head backwards.

“come here pretty” his other hand also moves from your waist to push slightly on your stomach, making it so your back is pressed up against his chest. his hand moved from your hair to wrap around your neck.

“fuck, just like that” you groan out breathless and leaning your head back onto his shoulder, this new position has him hitting all the right spots inside of you.

“so perfect, milking me too well. don’t know how much longer i can last” his sentence comes out a bit choppy due to the power of his thrusts, that’s not what your focused on at all. the way he’s speaking to you right now you’re wanting to mother his children.

“i’m right there, oh my god” your hips start bucking on his dick as you feel yourself cumming, riding out your orgasm when you feel rafes cum start to leak inside you.

“let me get you cleaned” he says after a few minutes, slowly pulling out of you and giving you cheek a kiss, almost too soft for you to have noticed. after he cleans you up you both redress, picking the clothes up from all parts of the floor as rafe had thrown them without any sort of care. you can still strongly feel your high and your not in the mood to get yourself home, so you sit back in his bed and turn his tv on.

this isn’t weird we’re still friends right?

thankfully rafe doesn’t think it’s weird and lays next to you. around three episodes of some random show have played and you’re ready to go home now, the high has worn off and your body has relaxed a bit. almost as if he could read your mind.

“you staying?” rafe asks, face smushed in his pillow, half asleep. you want to say yes but you can’t bring yourself to, you don’t want your feelings to intensify and make it awkward for everyone.

“no it’s okay, i’m gonna go now” you softly spoke, turning your body to get out his bed.

“m’kay i’ll see your for brunch” brunch? oh shit becca planned a brunch tomorrow..

“okay bye” as you leave his house you realize what just happened. you said no to staying at rafes, because you didn’t want your feelings to grow. you’d stayed at his house many of times, admittedly usually crashing after getting drunk, but still. his soft kiddies, his gentle touches, his presence alone. for fuck sake, you like rafe cameron.

taglist: @rafesgiirl @planetmimz @happymangosstuff @dragonslutsblog

#obx x reader #rafe cameron #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe obx #obx fic #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe outer banks #rafe x reader

[indieyuugure]

Officially asking your timeline for the 2012 series!

Feel free to answer in two parts if that's easier (and/or less confusing) considering the first three seasons are less convoluted than the last two.

Thanks!

Yeah! Of course here you go:

So this is assuming that the Turtles’ birthday is in the spring, I could of course be wrong, but it seems unlikely it’s a different time.

Okay so first thing you probably notice is that the time line doesn’t start in 2012, it starts in 2011. It’s weird but according to Rocksteady’s résumé, they joined the foot clan in 2013, but they do that in season 3, which should be about 3 years later.

There’s also a few other things, including the fact that Kraang Prime states I believe in season 3 that it has been 2 years since their first invasion. I’m not as certain on that one as someone told me about that, if you have an episode number that’d be great.

If you can prove me wrong on this really weird error I would be genuinely delighted.

So I guess starting with season 1 and 2’s distance, there’s a line between Casey and Raph during the episode The Invasion Part 1 where Casey states it’s been 1 year since the last invasion: (source: turtlepedia.fandom.com)

So that means that season 1 and 2 have to span 2 years. Mikey also states there was a month gap between the first and second season heard in The Mutation Situation: (as in season 2 episode 1, not my comic)

After season 2, stuff starts getting a bit weird. Assuming we ignore the animation error that there is no snow on the ground and the trees have green leaves in early December in Massachusetts, then it’s definitely true that 3 months have passed since December so now it’s March, which makes sense for there to be no snow.

There’s another really odd error in The Croaking, where Michelangelo introduces himself as being 15 years old, when actually he’s 16 almost (or is, depending on their birthday) 17. I figure though that’s probably an error with the script writers and not related to the actual timeline.

Then of course there’s the time travel dilemma. At the end of season 3 it ends with the planet being blown up and they travel back in time an amount that Donnie claims to be 6 months given the Earth’s position in comparison to the sun.

However, there are a few issues to this. One being that in the episode Trans-Dimensional Turtles(season 4, ep 10) the turtles go back in time. The time is unclear until the end when a Kraathatrogon pops out of a portal that is the same one that they threw into a portal back in the episode The Manhattan Project(episode 13, s2)way back in season 2. Unfortunately this means that either A) all of season 2 and 3 covers 6 months, which is definitely not true, or B) Donnie was wrong about how long they were actually in Space.

Now the tricky part is the question “Well if Donnie was wrong, then how long were they ACTUALLY in space.” Now I made the guess that maybe it’s more like 1 and a half years because that way Donnie was still right, he didn’t realize how many times the Earth had made a full circle, so it’s more plausible.

I have some issues with how he guessed 6 months, because they are right next to the Earth, but the Earth has an elliptical orbit around the sun, so 6 months would be half a circle, so unless they were also following the earth in it’s orbit, it would actually need to be 1 or 2 years—one or two full circles to the same position—but whatever I guess. Diagram of what I mean:

The other issue is that yes, now we have a point of reference in the first timeline, but where was that in the Space timeline. There’s not a clear answer, but given that there are 14 episodes in the space arc, The Manhattan Project taking place at episode 10, and the fact that the turtles bemoan the fact that the last few episodes are actually incredibly far spaced because of travel time, I’m going to assume it’s somewhere between the first 1/3 and middle of their time in space.

(In this diagram it’s more like 1.667 years, but whatever)

So after that you have season 4 which is even harder to pinpoint the length of be about half of it is the space arc, now, you could say that the remainder 2013 is also the rest of season 4, however another question arises with Rocksteady’s résumé where he states that he stopped working for the Foot in 2016, though I’m not sure when he’s considering their work for the foot to have ended (if you have an episode that’d be great) so I’m not really sure.

So unfortunately, everything after the end of the Space arc I have no clue on, though it seems you were mostly interested in the first half.

I basically have no clue for season 5, but most of it is silly “what-ifs” so I doubt most of it has a time line placement.

So yeah, that’s my wacky timeline research, please nit-pick as much as you can. My goal is to create an official timeline so if you have more stuff to add to this that might clarify things, or prove things differently, I’m all ears!

Hopefully that made any amount of sense, feel free to ask more questions :]

#tmnt #q&a #timeline #timeline nonesense #tmnt 2012

[heaven-s-black-box]

Vulnerability- Aventurine x male!Reader

Return to File

Recovery date: April 29th, 2024

Description: Hello sorry if this is a bad time, but I was wondering if you could make a story where the reader is male and comes from an extremely endangered species that is capable of having a child with a partner of the same gender, and he's kind of like Black Swan's apprentice, and went to Penacony with her but he ends up bumping into his ex Aventurine, the reader left him because he had a couple mental issues he needed to work out but he still cares about Aventurine and just doesn't know what to say to him.

Notes: This work was recovered in conjunction with an anonymous researcher, we thank them for their contributions. I couldn't really work in the "being able to have a child with someone of the same gender" but otherwise I think this came out really well.

Word count: 1 031

Back to directory

Black Swan is a bitch.

That’s Y/n’s opinion as he catches a glimpse of soft golden hair and a gaudy green suit across the bar. The memokeeper had sent her darling apprentice to get them some drinks. She could feign ignorance, but Y/n watched her look over at the bar before sending him. He knows this was intentional, but he won’t let her lead him like she leads everyone else.

Seriously, he’d been under the impression that memokeepers were simply supposed to observe, why was she so intent on meddling with his life?

“One sweetened mood and one prolonged sunrise, from the man in the green suit,” the bartender nodded over her shoulder before he could ask about the second drink.

Y/n bit their tongue and tried to hold back a scowl.

“Thank you.”

He picked up the sweetened mood and brought it back to Black Swan.

“You forgot your drink,” Black Swan hummed, taking her drink from Y/n.

“I didn’t get one.”

“But he bought you one,” she grinned, taking a sip.

“And if I took it I’d be opening myself up to talk to him, and I have nothing to say to him.”

They both looked over to the bar, finding the man in question talking with a man with purple hair who looked less than thrilled to be there. When Y/n turned back around, Black Swan was watching her drink swirl together– the layers becoming muddled and the vibrant colors becoming one dull shade. He could sense a coming lecture and sighed.

“You want to be a memokeeper to preserve your kind, to leave a record in the wake of your destruction so that maybe someday– if the universe comes to an end– you can be born again.”

“If you’re about to suggest repopulating my kind I’m going to leave.”

Black Swan laughed.

“No, no, that’s a decision only you can make. I’m just saying that you’ve found your purpose now, maybe it’s time to give relationships another chance.”

Y/n frowned.

Black Swan wasn’t wrong. The only reason Y/n had broken up with Aventurine was because he’d felt too dependent on the IPC agent. Aventurine had tried to comfort him by insisting he could depend on him, but that had only made things worse. Neither of them wanted to be taken care of and while Aventurine was in a position where he could take care of Y/n, even if it was only superficially, Y/n was out matched. So he’d left.

Now he just wasn’t sure what to say.

He’d been unsure of what to say for years. He’d had the same conversation with himself every night as he lay in bed, trying to find the words that explained why he left. Trying to explain what exactly ‘you’re too coddling’ actually meant beyond never letting him pay.

---

Y/n felt shifting below him, nudging him awake. He buried himself into his pillow a little more, frowning at how hard it was, before prying his eyes open.

“It’s been awhile,” a groggy voice spoke from above him. 

The apprentice memokeeper sat up, groaning in pain as his back stretched out from the uncomfortably bent position he’d been in. Aventurine laughed, squeezing his hand. Y/n hadn’t even noticed that he was holding it, but he quickly pulled it back and settled his hands in his lap.

“Sorry, must’ve been really tired,” Y/n mumbled, yawning as he pressed himself back into his chair. “I’ll go get a doctor.”

Aventurine grabbed his wrist as he tried to leave.

“Can we talk?”

“You should get checked out, you’ve been out for a while.”

“It’s not like I’m hurt.”

“No,” Y/n sighed, “you were comatose. I’m getting you a doctor, then we can talk.”

He kept his word.

A few minutes after the doctor left the room, Y/n re-entered with a tray of food. He sat back in his seat and set the tray on the bed table before pulling it up to Aventurine.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” Y/n said.

Aventurine nodded, staring at the food in front of him as they fell silent.

The small room was filled with the ticking of the clock on the wall and the faint sounds of footsteps outside. They were in the medical area on Penacony; Robin and Sunday were being treated in their rooms but Aventurine was stuck here.

Y/n found himself staring at the food on Aventurine’s tray as well.

“I’m sorry,” they both said. “Why are you-” they continued, stopping when they both turned to look at each other at the same time.

Y/n looked tired, and Aventurine looked a little sickly. It was almost funny that they were looking at each other in such vulnerable states. Maybe if they’d been able to see each other like this before, they wouldn’t have broken up. If they’d been able to understand that being able to protect one another was the only way they felt strong.

“I get it,” Aventurine said. “I always understood it… because I felt the same way,” his voice dropped to a whisper as he looked down to his hands in his lap.

“It was just… so hard to feel like I couldn’t do anything for you, like I was useless and maybe if we weren’t us we could have worked through it together but everything you tried to do to make things better made me feel worse.”

They fell silent again, collecting their thoughts and picking their next words.

This was the most open they’d ever been with each other.

“Did you find what you were looking for?” Aventurine asked suddenly.

“I did. I’ve been trying to think of how to tell you but it felt weird.”

“Why?” Y/n looked up at him. “Did you want to tell me, I mean.”

“Because I miss you.”

Aventurine nodded, then reached for their hand. He intertwined their fingers.

“Kakavasha. That’s my name.”

A small smile tugged at Y/n’s lips.

“Kakavasha,” he brought the back of the man’s hand to his lips and placed a gentle kiss against the worn skin, “I think it’s a beautiful name.”

#researcher s's recovery #honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail aventurine #hsr aventurine #hsr kakavasha #aventurine x reader #x reader #male reader #hsr black swan #oneshot #hsr oneshot #angst with a happy ending

[notallthoseinheadspace]

Another little fic, kinda my prediction for the finale. PG, extreme tension, angst at the end.

Now also on AO3!

HEARTBEATS

“There is… something else you should know.”

The hesitation in Emerie’s voice does not fill Echo with confidence. “I’m sure there are a lot of things I should know,” he answers, aware that he’s growling the words out and making no particular effort to change that. “What in particular are you referring to?”

“What do you know about the CX assassin project?”

Echo knows cold. He’s been frozen in carbonite, suspended in cryo-stasis, and neither of those made him feel the same level of frozen horror as that question. “More than I’d like, but less than I need to. Why?”

-

The stormtroopers shift, all three of them aiming their weapons at Rampart’s head, fingers steady on the triggers.

The middle one tips his helmet, surveying the former Vice-Admiral, before scoffing softly. “Edmon Rampart. Supposed to be in the company of Clone Force 99.”

The left trooper looks to the center one, the movement brief. “We supposed to be bringing this one in?”

The center trooper’s helmet centered again, hands tightening briefly on his blaster. “The defective clones we capture. Orders for Rampart are to shoot on sight as a traitor to the Empire.”

Rampart, already drawing himself up to argue the use of his name rather than his lost title, froze as the blaster muzzles pressed forward.

Three shots rang out.

-

“Get me a secure comm channel,” Echo ordered. “Now.”

“I don’t - we’re not supposed to communicate outside the base!”

“Still ‘just following orders’, huh?”

Emerie’s shoulders sagged, then straightened, and she pointed wordlessly to the necessary panel. “You should be able to have access from there, but it will alert base security.”

“How long will it give us?”

“A matter of minutes. Five at the most, unless something else happens.”

Echo gritted his teeth and bent to scomp in. “Let’s hope something else happens.”

-

“Wh - ” blinking in bafflement, Rampart stared at the three stormtroopers lying stunned on the ground before him before whipping back around to stare up small hill.

Crosshair shouldered his rifle and glowered down at him. “Get up. Wrecker’s injured and we’re wasting time.”

“Wh - why did you save me?” Stumbling to his feet, Rampart futilely attempted to dust off his uniform and stumbled towards Crosshair, shoes slipping on the dirt of the hill.

“I told you I’ve changed, it’s your own fault for not believing me.” Another moment, and Crosshair sighed deeply, reached down, and hauled Rampart bodily up the hill by the front of his jacket, ignoring the slaps the man aimed at his wrist. “You should be grateful, you know. My Imperial self would have thrown you out an airlock as soon as we’d secured the coordinates.”

Seeing Rampart draw himself up and inhale deeply, no doubt in preparation for another self-aggrandizing lecture, Crosshair seized him by the wrist and began dragging him back down the narrow game trail to where he’d left his brothers.

Shockingly, Rampart did not argue.

-

“Hunter? Hunter, come in!”

“Echo? What’s the situation?”

“CX-2 is in play. Do not use lethal force!”

-

Hunter, having tied off the bandage around Wrecker’s chest, peered out of the knot of roots where they’d taken shelter. The energy signature of the base was near enough to be a painful, staticky hum in the back of his head, and the warning sense of danger-danger-danger throbbed like a migraine behind his eyes.

“Do not use lethal force!”

It all happened far too fast - a whiff of Crosshair’s familiar scent, growing closer, Rampart’s sour fear-sweat odor close behind it. A rustle, faint but far too loud in the pervasive quiet that followed the rampage of a large, angry predator.

The sound of an exhaled breath and the squeak of a glove.

The whine of a blaster shot far too close far too close danger screaming in his mind and a shower of splinters sharp and hot against his face as the bolt struck the root beside his head.

A curse, a shriek, the sound of Crosshair’s Firepuncher stock squeaking against the pad on his chest -

“I repeat, do not use lethal force! CX-2 is - ”

Hunter flung out a hand, too late, too desperate, even as Crosshair’s finger tightened on the trigger - “Crosshair, wait!”

The bolt hit home.

CX-2 wavered, for a moment, rifle falling from his hands as a curl of smoke drifted up from the armor over his chest. His crouch on the broad tree limb above them became unsteady, and, achingly slowly, he fell.

The crack of his armor against the branches as he fell was nowhere near as deafening as Hunter’s pulse in his ears, and the broken helmet rolled away as the shadow trooper tumbled to a stop on the ground before them.

Hunter struggled to draw a breath, barely aware of Crosshair dropping his rifle as he fell to his knees beside the body, Crosshair’s hand shaking worse than ever as he reached out to touch that familiar, beloved face.

“ - Tech!”

#tbb speculation #the bad batch #star wars the bad batch #tbb fanfiction #tbb echo #tbb crosshair #tbb hunter #angst

[lovedianagrey]

hello!!do you have skk fic recs?

Introduction

Yes, I do. I’m sorry it took so long to give you a reply, but I wanted to give you a comprehensive list and was busy preparing for my last day in high school, and then I got a job 12 hours later, and then I traveled to New York for a couple Broadway workshops. But now that today’s been dealt with, I have my wonderful notes.

So here’s the gist of it. I have three focused reviews on some of my favorite Soukoku fanfics ever, but I felt like copy pasting it would kill you a little, so I’m going to use a simplified format that echoes what I once did for two other ships years ago.

Canon Space

Here I compiled four fanfics that take place in main canon spaces (so not BEAST). While I encourage you to read, I also ask you to make sure to check the tags of the actual work for any possible triggers. Furthermore, the styles these characters are written in, and the way they are portrayed, vary from writer to writer. Some are more “canon” based than others, but they all carry the essence of this ship. And if they don’t in your eyes, then you’re just reading a great novel with Japanese names. 

i'll bleed out for you by StarshipDancer

Synopsis: After getting impaled together, basically dying in each others arms in a joint mission with the Port Mafia and the ADA, and getting brought back by Yosano, this shattered Soukoku is asked to go into hiding. In this time, things seem to start healing. But the impending call asking them to return to their positions in their groups haunts them, and when it arrives, things fall apart all over again.  

Tags: Caretaking, PTSD, A Singularly Important Rat Is Present, Canon-Divergence, Post-Port Mafia Days, Love Confession, Pet Co-Parenting, Angst

Word Count: 71,848

Notes: Rattata is the best character. You cannot negate AbsoluteNegation’s incredible skill. I remember reading this fanfic between the airport and my flight, and when chapter four ended, I had to board the plane, with my shaking hands and quiet sniffles. Please read this one.

If you kiss me (I might let it happen) by encsiimomo

Synopsis: Chuuya’s done watching this. Dazai’s literally dating a new girl every week. He dates based on who asks him first that Monday, he breaks up with them that Sunday, and it goes on again. And again. And again. It’s driving him insane. So he does the only thing he can think of to earn himself a break – He asks to date him for that week’s cycle. Dazai’s surprised. Chuuya’s exhausted. But once the sparks fly, they’re unable to be put out. 

Tags: Canon Divergent & Kind of Canon Compliant, Dark Era, Smut, Mutual Pining, Light Angst, Silly

Word Count: 52,127

Notes: I loved this fic because it encapsulates a pretty carefree tone that isn’t associated with Dark Era. It’s pretty smutty, but it’s really lovely to read them. It’s not a reflection of what these characters canonically represent. And while it definitely stays as a loose interpretation of these characters, it keeps the essence that makes this ship so sharp and wonderful. I loved Oda’s appearances too, they made me laugh.

A Doll's House by Abyss_In_WonderLand_likes_sexy_cannibals

Summary: After coming to contact with an ability-powered artifact, Dazai and Chuuya are forced to work together to overcome the ability’s trials, and face the bubbling sentiments they keep trying so hard to ignore. 

Tags: Teamwork, Ability Loss, Poisoning, Denial of Feelings, Confessions, Light Angst

Word Count: 45,288

Notes: While definitely not a character study, this fic goes and shows how wonderfully warm a Double Black fanfic can be. You’ll giggle in some moments, be entranced in others, and it’s just fun. This is for those that aren’t scouring for the angst. This was the first fic that sunk me into a skk fanfiction hunt all throughout the winter holidays.

On Deathless Feet by AbsoluteNegation

Synopsis: Chuuya always knows the monster can get out of control, but it doesn’t get any less surprising when Arahabaki powers through him. For a while though, it’d been comforting to know Dazai could always reign it in, make it go quiet. Because he did when they recently met, when they rose through the ranks, and at the brink of their end. But after years of disconnection, and the consistent waves of betrayal, is Chuuya capable of trusting him? And is Dazai capable of letting him?

Tags: Caretaking, Controlling Arahabaki, Port Mafia, Post-Port Mafia, Mistrust, Non-Linear Storytelling

Word Count: 71,848

Notes: This story is just breathtaking. The writing style is incredibly vast and detailed, which may seem scary when described, but it flows so easily when you read it. The story takes place in an event where Chuuya loses control of Arahabaki in a  Post-Port Mafia Soukoku time. But because of its non-linear style, one gets to understand their past experiences with each other in a manner that contextualizes and weighs in the events of their reunion. 

Fanon Spaces

Before I begin, I’d like to note that there are so many AUs in this fandom, that I had to really search for the canon ones in my list. So understand that if you want more of these, I DEFINITELY have more of these. Also, again, while I encourage you to read, I also ask you to make sure to check the tags of the actual work for any possible triggers. 

I’ll crown your inner child with laurel by acuteguwu

Synopsis: Chuuya has worked in a Michelin Star restaurant. So he really has no place in losing this cooking competition. But a sudden newcomer, who seemingly has no previous experience in the field, seems to want to tell him his bechamel sauce isn’t ready. And really, who does he think he is?

Tags: Chef Competition AU, Character Study, Slow Burn, Chuuya Is A Blunt Perfectionist, Dazai Is A Culinary Genius

Words: 197,090

Notes: I read this in two days, and I finished by waking up at four in the morning to finish up before going to a drag queen brunch. So really, my experience was incredible. You get to really know these characters, who are very themselves, and it’s lovely. Please read, it’s so worth it.

music for our funeral by itotypes

Synopsis: Dazai has always been lost on what exactly he wants to be. Chuuya knows exactly what he wants. Working with such incredible differences proves to be a difficult challenge, ending in at least a little bit of violence multiple times, but they make it work. Because their music sounds beautiful. Because they’re better geniuses beside the other. And maybe because once it started, they can’t seem to process this journey can ever end.

Tags: No Smut, Angst, 70s, Musicians!AU, Drug Abuse, References to Child Neglect, Lowkey Pretty Violent, Emotional Cheating (w/ Main Ship)

Word Count: 67,723

Notes: Look, there’s a whole genre of Soukoku music AUs. And I could tell you to read the famous “still, still, still” by icedlightroast, or the even more famous “I Was Screaming Your Name Through The Radio” by ElectricSplatter. Which really, they’re both INCREDIBLE fics that I think you should read (IWSYNTTR literally inspired me to try and write music, which led me to do an album for a school project, so I’m not kidding when I say they’re life changing), but I also know that these are famous fanfics that you can find in almost any big skk reader thread. So disregarding the following recommendation, I try to give you fanfics I found through a long scrolling process. 

Everything or Nothing by Wellthathappened (Cataclysmic_Calamity)

Synopsis: Chuuya has never been able to experience much. So when he meets Dazai on the night of orientation, he lets himself explore. And as lips sink into his, and he lets himself be free, Dazai lets him know how unimportant he is by walking away when kids walk in on them. Cut to a month later, they’re paired as roommates, Chuuya’s gotten what Dazai insists is a douchey boyfriend, and Dazai Osamu has to recognize it wasn’t true. It wasn’t a night’s fluke. He really, definitely isn’t straight.

Tags: College AU, Pinning, Chronic Illness, Creation & References Of Illegal Panini Rings,  Confessions, Miscommunication, Past Sexual Abuse, Bad Parenting, Cute Dates, Dazai’s Really Rich

Word Count: 264,937

Notes: I recognize I just put in my notes that there’s no major point in recommending these big fanfics, but I just read this because the person that introduced me into the fandom in the first place really loves this one. And it’s incredible. Worth every moment. I laughed a lot, and cried a lot. It’s those pieces of work that resound with you that keep you engaged. This one builds off of that.

Inseparable by milwritescausewhynot

Synopsis: Dazai and Chuuya have been joined to the hip since day one. But they’re not best friends. Or enemies. Or, worst of all, lovers. They are, however, great at pranking each other. Until one goes close to dangerous, and things begin getting complicated afterwards. 

Tags: High School AU, Pranks, Light Angst, Denial, Pining, Confessions, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Crazy Kouyou, Childhood Friends, No Smut

Word Count: 107,804

Notes: I hadn’t saved this one in my compilation, but I couldn’t not find it. This fic is so charming, and I most enjoy how the characters move through the story. Definitely recommend.

In Conclusion

Again, I’m sorry for such a late response. I’m literally falling asleep right now but I felt too guilty leaving this for tomorrow morning. If you have any questions, notes, or looking for something specific for your reading, we cna talk about it. 

Anyways, thanks for asking! Hope you love them, and sorry for any mistakes

#soukoku fanfiction #skk #dazai osamu #nakahara chuuya #soukoku #bsd #bungou stray dogs #fanfic recommendations #skk fanfiction #double black #bsd chuuya #bsd dazai

[inumbrapugnabimus-maybe]

remember this guy? I finally found a design for him I really like :D

More designs, a poll, and also some lore under the cut

Some less polished, alternate versions :)

if you like the brown leather armor more than blue lemme know

ok so here are a few things!

First, he’s very colorful now! This is because he’s a member of the nobility, and, being rich, he can afford color! It’s also kinda an unofficial sign of status.

he honestly doesn’t wear it for this reason, although he’s aware of what bright colors imply (to an extent). He just really likes colors XD

second, most everyone has long hair in this culture. Shorter hair is a sign of, well, slavery (which is, sadly, a thing; it’s been recently made illegal but the law is not well enforced… for reasons)

men wear their hair down and women typically cover theirs. It doesn’t need to be fully covered, although richer women usually prefer this.

I totally didn’t make all this up bc I wanted to give all my guy characters long hair XD

someday I’ll get around to posting actual official character posts or smth but for now I can’t even decide this poor kid’s name…

I could use some help so here are some ideas I’ve got

(if you wanna know more abt what kind of names I’m looking for, look below the poll)

ok sooo

I’m looking for something old and potentially Celtic? But I honestly don’t love any of these… none of them quite fit…

this guy is very joyful and bright, a bit goofy and very determined to keep everyone’s spirits up. He’s definitely a bit idealistic and naive, and he’s kinda a free spirit! He finds the world beautiful and wonderful, and kindaaa ignores flaws a bit too much. One of the key things he has to learn during the story is responsibility and duty.

So if anyone has a name that evokes that (zero pressure lol) I would be endlessly grateful

a random fact about my story: no matter what happens, I am determined to find a way to include mountain lions.

#If you can’t tell he is my fav character and I love him very much #Okayyyy here we go #my art #art #doodles #character design #original character #oc #ocs #evie’s ocs #evie rambles #evie’s ben #Imma have to change that tag if I find him a name #Also pls ignore the weirdness of the way he’s holding the bow #I should have used a ref but it was a doodle that spiraled out of control #And by the time I tried to fix his entire pose would have looked awful if I shifted his arms XD #Oh help #sorry abt the crazy infodump and goodbyeee

[plumgyu]

A Taste of Heaven - Choi Beomgyu

(Beomgyu/Gender Neutral Reader)

Warnings: None

You awoke to someone saying your name, tugging on the fabric of your shoulder.

“Get up… please…” The voice pleaded, not wanting to be late for your next class yet not wanting to leave you behind.

“Five more minutes…” You muttered, eyes closed shut and face buried in your arms. You felt a soft poke to your arm, the figure repeating your name now with more urgency.

“I swear if I get one more absence because of you I am going to send you to your grave.” The voice had a mixture of annoyance and amusement in its tone.

“Beomgyu, you shouldn’t have waited for me to head to your science…” You whispered, abashed at your actions having repeated themselves again.

“I wanted to.” He said simply, and you knew better than to contest to that. You tried to ignore the way your heart skipped a beat at his words.

Although when had ignoring your problems ever solved anything for anyone? Whether you told yourself it was true or not, it was an undeniable fact that you were stupidly in love with this man. The thought that he could never love you too was almost too much to bear. Half your grade liked him, so your chances were slim to none. Even knowing this, you wouldn’t stop liking him. No, you couldn’t. Every part of him was far too enticing to resist, and every little touch left you yearning for more. Was this beginning to be a problem…?

You snapped out of your melancholic thoughts, not wanting to make him later than he already was. He walked you to your class, bid you goodbye, and quickly ran off to his own. It was the little things like this that made it impossible to stop liking him.

Sighing, you sat down at your desk, and miraculously, you weren’t late. You cringed as you heard the bell, knowing that there was no world where Beomgyu made it to his class two stories above within a fifteen second time frame. “I’m going to have to pay him back for this…” You told yourself, a twinge of guilt mixing with the fluttering of your heart at having been around the one you loved.

For better or worse, these feelings soon faded as endless lectures on quadratics ensued. Your math teacher, Mr. Jang, not once failed to one-up himself in the sheer boredom his classroom brought. The only interesting thing about this class was the fact that it constantly seemed to get less interesting. Despite your past mistake, the sheer uselessness of this knowledge threatened to put you to sleep in itself.

At last, the class ended, signaling the beginning of lunch. You would get to see Beomgyu. But was that even a good thing anymore? The pain of knowing that he could never love you back brought pain deeper than any cut, but the warmth in your heart his presence brought always pulled you back. Curse him and his comforting voice.

You don’t know how, or why, you chose to do it. But somehow the prospect of being with a person who made you happier than anyone else didn’t seem so pleasant anymore. When you weren’t there, would he just replace you with someone else? He wouldn’t even notice if you were gone, right…?

Soon your eyes welled up in thick tears, running down your face and soaking your skin. You had to leave before someone saw this. Between choked back sobs, you made your way out of the school building, looking for somewhere, anywhere to hide. You settled on a thick tree by the side of the school. The shade soothed you as compared to the blazing sun, the light breeze giving your senses a faint chill. Flowers bloomed in the trees, which leaves swayed so gracefully it was nearly hypnotic. The grass beneath you lay soft and welcoming, but as it soon grew wet from your cries, it served only as a way to dispose of your tears.

It seemed as if nothing would ever be okay again. God, how could you even look at him again after realizing the full extent of your feelings towards him…? You would never be anything more than a friend to him, so why couldn’t you just let it go…? Why couldn’t you let him go…?

As if by command, you heard your name called yet again, but this time with a delicate softness that held fragile emotions behind it.

“Please… don’t cry… it’s going to be okay…” It was none other than the one you both wanted to see more than all else and wished to avoid with your life. It was the voice of Choi Beomgyu. He seemed to be at a loss for words. You hardly had time to be embarrassed at your disheveled state before that sentiment worsened at the realization that he had never seen you cry before. How the hell were you going to get out of this one…?

“I was just- taking some time to relax,” you began, desperately trying to explain yourself, “Nothing to worry about here, see?” You forced a smile, but your eyes were still filled with great anguish.

“No,” he began, calling out your name yet again. If you weren’t careful, you’d get addicted to the sound of that word on his lips. “I know you, and I know you’re not okay. Tell me what’s wrong, please?” The look in his eye was deadly. Not in the sense that it scared you, but due to the fact that he looked so adorable in that moment that it made you want to pour out your heart’s deepest desires to him. And behind the cuteness lay that mysterious emotion you always felt when he was with you. Whether it be in his voice, through his eyes, or by the softness of his touch, there was this strange feeling you could never quite pinpoint through his actions.

“I can’t,” You replied simply, not knowing any other way to word it. “Not to you…” You choked back yet another sob, not wanting to show even more of your vulnerability in front of him.

“Why not?” He questioned, looking slightly hurt by your declaration. His eyebrows furrowed, lips unconsciously forming a slight pout. He looked like a lost puppy. How was it possible for a human to be this cute?

“No- it’s not personal… I just,” You fumbled through your words, “It’s just…”

“What is it? You know you can tell me anything,” He muttered, “I won’t be mad.”

“No, Beomgyu, you don’t understand.” Was it courage? Was it annoyance? Was it the subconscious desire to let out your biggest secret and finally be able to stop these lies? You would never know.

“Beomgyu,” You began, looking him dead in the eye. “I like you.”

His eyes widened in shock. He seemed to have both everything and nothing to say at once. Those few moments were among the most terrifying in your life, his silence being far worse than the prospect of rejection. Eventually, he regained his composure. Maybe he didn’t need words.

“Can I kiss you?” A simple question, asked so casually you could have brushed it off as small talk by the tone of his voice. It was now your turn to be at a loss for words. The most you could manage was a soft whisper.

“Please,” And that was all it took. The next thing you knew, his soft lips were against yours. It was nothing short of euphoric, everything you’ve ever wanted coming down to this very moment. When he pulled away, you found yourself wanting more. A single look into his eyes and you could see that he wanted it too.

He pulled you back, moving you closer and closer into his body, to the point where your chest lay against his. You hummed into his lips, as if asking permission to kiss him deeper, and he eagerly obliged. The feeling of his tongue against yours was almost too much to handle. Suddenly, you felt his arms wrap around your waist, pulling you up into his embrace. A squeak escaped your lips, and you took the opportunity to admire the boy in front of you.

His hair was soft and warm in the afternoon sun, his mouth tinted a light red as by your doing. His eyes were as pretty as ever, shining with deep admiration and long held love. He was beautiful. And he was yours.

You felt his hand brush against your cheek, an expression of longing taking over his features. He bit his lip slightly, as if contemplating whether to speak, before coming to a conclusion.

“I like you too,” he said, now unable to contain the sheepish grin forming on his lips.

He had given you a taste of heaven. Now there was nothing stopping you from taking more.

Thank you so much for reading! This is my first post so please feel free to share your criticism and feedback ♡

#txt #tomorrow x together #beomgyu #choi beomgyu #x reader #fanfic #fanfiction #kpop #beomgyu x reader #txt post #txt fanfic

[mahitosmalnourishedmanhood]

Something Domestic Pt.2 18+

Summary: Her entire life, Kimiko had been convinced she was crazy. By her parents, her sister, doctors, everybody. So, she’s thankful to meet someone who assures her, her hallucinations aren’t just her mind messing with her. Too bad the messenger is a curse.

Tw: smut smut smut it got dirty quick (since this was meant to be the first chapter but i figured giving some of kimiko’s backstory first would be better) Mahito is his own warning, author is only halfway into season 1 so any conflicting details will be edited at a later date, mc can see curses and doesnt know wtf they are, idle transfiguration on Mahito during sex, stitches licking, neck biting, fear play (fantasy), dubcon I think? (kimiko is intoxicated and mahito has no idea what sex is), hair pulling, maybe ooc, creampie

Word Count: 1.7k

Part One

The two had introduced themselves, and talked for a bit before Kimiko began leading Mahito to her apartment. She isn’t entirely sure how exactly she managed to convince a stranger to come home with her, but she knows better than to question a good thing. She is fairly anxious, and his gaze doesn’t make things any better, and he knows as much, almost as though he’s trying to frighten her. She glances at Mahito occasionally as she fidgets with her nails. He can sense her fear, and it makes him feel delighted, especially considering how she’s ignoring it and her instincts for the sake of getting him home. He still isn’t exactly sure what she has planned for when they get there, though he doesn’t mind, either way he’ll learn a bit more about humans and then use idle transfiguration on her. Simple.

“You are quite nervous. Any particular reason?” He asks, stepping a bit closer and putting an arm around her waist, a slight shiver creeping up her spine at the touch. He is a bit tempted to use his idle transfiguration on her now, but she is interesting, if a little weird, enough to wait a little bit more before trying to do so.

“Oh— I just haven’t brought anybody home for a hookup before, much less a complete stranger.” Kimiko explains, her face bright pink and her muscles slightly tense under his touch, though she didn’t mind enough to move his hand. 

Mahito does look confused at the term hookup, but knows he’ll find out what it is once they got to where she was leading him. He keeps his eyes on her, and can tell she knows something is wrong, but she doesn’t try to move away or get him to leave, so he assumes she doesn’t know what he is exactly.

Soon, they reach her apartment and she steps in front of her door and unlocks it, the hairs on the back of her neck standing up as Mahito stands directly behind her, close enough that he’s breathing down her neck. She steps inside with him, and once he is inside he’s caught a little off guard by her suddenly tossing her arms over his shoulders and pressing her lips to his. He knows only a little about these kinds of behaviors, only enough to know she isn’t trying to attack him in any way. He’s unsure what to do with his hands at first, but soon he just puts them on her waist as she presses her chest to his and carefully walks him backwards until he hits the couch. 

He lets out a little grunt as she pushes him down onto the cushions and climbs into his lap, straddling his hips. She then pulls back from the kiss, her pupils blown wide, nearly consuming the blue of her eyes. “I’m sorry— I probably um- should’ve asked first.” He looks at her a little funny before he puts his hands on the sides of her jaw. 

He feels the urge to change the shape of her soul again, but is distracted by a new feeling pooling in his stomach and between his legs. This he has never experienced before, though he welcomes the feeling with open arms. He pulls her forward by the jaw and presses his lips to hers again in an almost desperate manner. She runs a hand through his hair and lightly nips his bottom lip, hearing him make a small noise of surprise in response. 

Her tongue slips into his mouth, and she uses her free hand to sneak under his shirt and feel over his chest. He slightly arches his back, leaning into the feeling of her warm hand touching his icy skin. She feels his tongue push past her lips, further into her mouth to an abnormal point, his tongue flicking against the back of her throat and making her gag for a moment. He realizes that might alert her to the fact he’s not a human, but surprisingly she doesn’t seem to notice it. If she does notice, she doesn’t care enough to dwell on it. He’s unsure if he’s thankful about that or not. He wonders if she’d still be the one leading if she knew he was a curse. He imagines her squirming and shivering under him with the knowledge he could kill her with a couple of words, and it makes him that much more aroused and needy.

Mahito puts his hands on her waist and squeezes as she pulls back from the kiss enough so she can properly start to undress him, slightly panting as she strips him of his top. She stops for a moment, and stares at the stitches across his neck before leaning down and trailing her tongue over them. She’s a little clumsy, but Mahito thankfully has no way of knowing as he tilts his head back instinctively and uses a hand to push her face further against his neck. She mouths over the stitches for a moment longer before leaving bites across his neck and starting to undo his pants. He mirrors her motions from a moment prior, removing her shirt and tossing it aside, staring blankly at her chest for a moment. She had something else under her shirt? Tedious. 

He moves to get her skirt off, deciding to let her deal with the rest. She soon stands up and removes her undergarments before tugging his pants down to below his knees. She looks down at him for a moment, seeming to be thinking about something or other before she settles in his lap again, his dick pressing firm against her thigh. It feels warmer than the rest of him, but still fairly cold. Mahito is nearly convinced he’s going to melt as their skin meets. He presses further against her until he’s pressing the side of his face against her chest.

He feels one of her arms snake around his head, likely to support herself and stay balanced while her other hand wraps around his shaft. Only a moment passes before she’s slowly sinking down on him and he’s suddenly overwhelmed with her warmth, though it still feels like it’s not nearly enough, nothing compared to what he believes lies ahead. He lets out a small sigh into her skin, his hands resting on her hips as she moves them slowly. It feels like agony, and he only gives her a second before he’s experimentally moving her hips for her, his large fingers digging into her hips hard enough for bruises to show the next morning. 

Kimiko runs a hair through Mahito’s hair, and curiously tugs on one of his ponytails, forcing his head back until he has no choice but to stare up at her. She gives him a little grin, and the sight makes him throb inside of her. She leans her head down and rests her forehead against his, shutting her eyes as she rocks her hips in the fast pace he’s chosen for them. She adds a bit more force into it, and lets out low moans, close enough that Mahito can feel her breath fanning across his face with every sound she makes for him. He keeps staring at her, and again mirrors her actions, moving his hips up into hers, and he feels excitement rush through his body at the bolt of pleasure the action brings. One hand slides up Kimiko’s back, pressing on her spine just hard enough to get her to arch it for him, seeming to get him even deeper than before.

“Oh, this has to be the best night of my life.” She tells him softly, almost quiet enough that he doesn’t catch it at first. Almost. Mahito can hear a buzzing suddenly, but he pays no mind to it, simply just continuing to thrust up into the pretty little human on his lap. He sprouts another arm, his third hand forcing her hand from his hair and making its way into her own. He tugs her hair like she had done to him, only now it’s to force her head down, rather than up.

“Yeah? Mind telling me why that is, hm?” Mahito grins as he thrusts into what seems to be a particularly sensitive spot for her, as both of her hands reach for his shoulders and she lets out a noise louder than before. He hits that spot again, and again, wanting to continue to draw those pretty sounds from her, even if it means she likely won’t answer his question. He’d rather listen to this anyway. She still does her best to answer, but ultimately crumbles, holding onto his shoulder as her thighs tense and tremble. 

Mahito is suddenly all too aware of the growing heat in the pit of his stomach, and he leans back against the couch, fucking up into her with far more force now as the tension in his stomach feels like it’s about to snap. “Oh, I feel like I’m going to burst.” He practically whimpers to her as he leans in to kiss her again, and she merely nods in agreement, her own orgasm only seconds away. He can’t focus on anything aside from how impossibly warm he feels and the bliss coursing through his veins as the pressure in him finally bursts. He stills, and Kimiko rocks her hips into him desperately, the feeling of him filling her up sending her straight over the edge. She grows nearly impossibly tight around him before she leans into his chest, staying still while they both take a moment to come down from their highs. 

After a few moments, Kimiko gets up, not wanting to get that intimate with her new friend by snuggling with him during a mere one night stand. She tugs on her underwear and her shirt, looking at Mahito in her half dressed state. “My bathroom is the first door on the left in the hallway, if you want to shower. I am going to go lay down though, my legs feel like jelly.” Kimiko sighs with a small giggle. “My bedroom is straight down the hallway if you want to stay the night, or you can sleep out here, either works.” And with that, she leaves Mahito to himself as she goes to lay down for the night. 

#jujutsu kaisen #mahito #jjk #mahito/oc #mahito x oc #oc x mahito #jjk oc #smut #jjk smut #mahito smut #idk how to tag

[hermannsthumb]

Please please please more "Fake Dating for Funding"! I haven't read much PR stuff in the last few years and your newest piece jerked me right back to that old standby hyperfixation. It's so cute!!

answering this sooooo late, OOPS SORRY, but here's a little ficlet as i try to get myself back in the writing groove.... the original fake dating for funding fic is right here, but i was thinking over plot concepts earlier and this one made me laugh, LMAO

------------------------------------------------------

"I have a favor to ask of you," Hermann says one morning.

Typical of Hermann, it's blunt and to the point, no show of bartering or sweetening Newt up with dessert or anything like that. In theory Newt should be annoyed, but Hermann indebts himself to Newt so rarely (and never willingly) that Newt’s actually kind of interested to see where this goes. He pushes up his work goggles and strips off his gloves without a second thought.

Hermann is standing directly over Newt’s side of the yellow line, one hand balled into a fist while the other white-knuckles his cane, his shoulders hunched over. He looks extremely uncomfortable. On the other hand Hermann rarely looks comfortable, so this isn’t anything new, or something to draw immediate conclusions from.

“Okay,” Newt says. “Lay it on me.”

“I would not blame you if you found yourself thinking less of me,” Hermann says, “or outright rejecting the proposition. I’m aware it is far more than one typically asks of a…” He swallows. “Colleague.”

The word hangs awkwardly in the air between them. It’s not that it’s an inaccurate descriptor, but it doesn’t completely encompass the, uh, reality of things, being that they were a litttttle more than colleagues up until two months ago. (Not that they called themselves anything other than colleagues for the duration of that whole—indiscretion. It was a little confusing.)

Still, Hermann’s groveling, and Newt’s interested. “Oh, sweet,” he says, maybe a little too casually. Just two bros having a normal conversation about how they're nothing more than colleagues. “I’m totally in. What are we doing? Is it illegal or something?”

He could actually use Hermann’s mad computer hacker skills for something in the near future—Newt wants unrestricted card access to the typically very restricted hazardous materials storage in the jaeger bay for reasons he’s not going to disclose—and doing something illegal for the guy would be a great way to get him to do something illegal for Newt in return. In a favor-for-favor way more than a blackmail way, because Newt mostly isn't a dick. And anyway, maybe doing some platonic fun k-science bonding time will be good for them. Make things a little less tense. Newt’s been working on that really hard lately, mostly because his multiple Shatterdome transfer requests have been outright denied by the Marshal and he seems to be out of alternatives.

“No,” Hermann says.

He looks at his shoes. He’s about two unlucky inches away from stepping on a piece of kaiju spleen Newt dropped earlier and forgot about, and the fact that he’s not taking any precautions to shield his precious ugly wingtips tells Newt he means business. “Perhaps a little…morally questionable.”

“Oooh, Hermann, you’re such a tease,” Newt says. He tosses his nasty gloves in the trash can and scoots Hermann towards the cluster of their desks with a hand to the small of his back, ignoring the way Hermann bristles and digs the end of his cane halfheartedly into the floor. “Come on, come on, I’ll make coffee, stop looking so depressed.”

He does make himself a coffee but brews a quick cup of black tea for Hermann, which turns out to be kind of a waste of his time, since Hermann blatantly ignores the mug Newt slides in front of him. He’s gone from looking like the most emo librarian in the world to looking vaguely nauseous. If circumstances weren’t as they are, Newt might say it was making him look exceptionally alluring—that whole sickly Victorian lad thing really gets him going. “If you’ve forgotten,” Hermann says, “we’ve another of those foolish PPDC fundraisers soon, at the end of the month.”

“Oh.” Newt leans back in his chair, a little disappointed. “Is that it?”

“Yes,” Hermann says. “No.” He shakes his head gravely. He’s so dramatic sometimes, it’s kinda cute. “It is the root of the problem, but not the entirety of it. You’ll recall, I presume, how badly in need of funding we are, myself in particular for the Breach-mapping software I am attempting to develop.”

Newt does recall, because yeah, he is also in need of funding real bad. Can’t make awesome, ground-breaking advancements in the field of kaiju biology without any kaiju bits to study the biology of. That spleen currently threatening to ooze over the yellow tape line represents approximately sixty percent of Newt's remaining currently viable samples. “Uh, yeah?”

“I have,” Hermann makes a face, “a working theory, so to speak. You’ll further recall the similar PPDC event we attended in August of last year?”

“Yeah?”

“And the one we attended this year, in the week following our—”

“Yeah, Hermann, I remember.”

“Right,” Hermann says.

Newt remembers the second one more clearly than he likes, because having to make nice with Hermann to present a united front six days after a very, very stupid argument about Newt maaaaybe stealing half of Hermann’s sandwich—which ultimately led to a mutual and spur of the moment decision to dissolve the whole weird lab partners-with-benefits thing they had going on—was one of the more uncomfortable experiences of his career. Still, he made as nice as he could, because his supply of work gloves and Keurig pods were running dangerously low and he didn’t feel like shelling out the money from his own abysmally small paycheck for any.

He doesn’t know what was so significant about the other one they went to though, the one last August. It was humid. Newt remembers being so hot he had to take off his tie, and he lost it somewhere in the convention center afterwards. He misses that tie. Hermann hated it, which makes him culprit number one in its disappearance.

“We drew in significantly more donations in August than we did two months ago,” Hermann says, and opens the top drawer of his desk to produce a neat stack of papers, which he spreads in front of Newt to reveal a series of color-coded spreadsheets.

Newt’s eyes glaze over a little at the sight. He doesn’t bother extending the effort to confirm Hermann’s data—as much as he hates to admit it, the guy is thorough with his numbers and rarely wrong about stuff like this. He flips through it anyway to appease him. And, honestly, he thinks Hermann’s feelings would be hurt if he didn’t, and Newt really is committed to being a good labmate (y’know, for the very brief time being). “And prior to August,” Hermann continues, “you’ll note that the average sum total of donations we received per event was significantly lower. August was an anomaly.”

“Sure,” Newt says. “So what?”

Hermann slides the spreadsheet back into his desk, pulls his dorky glasses off, and exhales slowly: he’s getting to the point. Newt has a hunch what that point might be, but Hermann always looks funny when he gets into lecture mode, and Newt doesn’t want to interrupt it.

“I believe,” Hermann says, “that our—relationship status, which was significantly different on that occasion as compared to the rest—might possibly have had no small influence, for one reason or another. We certainly behaved more, er, affectionately, or tenderly around each other, and perhaps others took note and found it charming. Or some such thing. Of course I can't draw any conclusions from a single point of data, but I believe if we were to... Well, it's a bit silly, hearing myself now.”

“You want me to be your fake b-f so we can trick people into giving a shit about us and shake them down easier,” Newt says.

The tips of Hermann’s generous ears go red. “I’m aware it’s an unusual request,” he says, “especially considering… recent certain developments in our working relationship.”

It’s not exactly the fun platonic bonding time Newt anticipated, but he has a hunch Hermann might be on to something—the whole doomed romance, give us money so our love has a fighting chance of surviving the apocalypse thing, which they were apparently already inadvertently playing up. He’s willing to give it a shot. Making a joke out of it might actually help Newt let go of his last lingering nostalgia for that super brief period of time he and Hermann got up to after-hours hijinks and were almost amicable with each other. And, you know, on the other hand, if that doesn’t work, he could totally do the opposite of moving on and revel in the opportunity to do couple-y tender things with Hermann again.

“Yeah, sure,” Newt says. Real chill about it. He’s so chill, man.

Hermann blinks at him owlishly, clearly taken aback, but says nothing.

“It’ll be fun,” Newt adds. “It’s a good plan, great idea, it’ll totally work. Nothing has to be weird, right? I mean, it’s not like we were really even dating before or anything. There’s no reason for it to be weird. It’s definitely not for me. Is it for you?”

“No, er, of course not,” Hermann says. “It was my idea, wasn’t it?”

They’re totally over each other, but they can also totally pretend they’re not for a night or two, no sweat. “Cool,” Newt says, and repeats, maybe to convince himself, “It’ll be fun. We can dress up all fancy and wear matching ties or something and talk about how tragic we are. I’ll grab your ass in front of people and you can brag about how cool and smart and sexy I am.”

“You are not doing that,” Hermann says, “and I am not doing that. When have I ever—oh, nevermind. I am not averse to the neckties, however, especially if it means you’re at least attempting to look somewhat professional for our prospective—”

“Dude, come on, you totally just think I look hot in a suit.”

The splotchy red flush spreads from Hermann’s ears to his neck as he scowls at Newt. He doesn’t bother denying it: Newt’s sure they both vividly remember the most recent annual k-science research symposium when Newt finally let himself be talked into renting a fancy blazer, to look, uh, like the expert in your field you are, Newton, and Hermann had such a hard time keeping his hands off Newt in increasingly unchaste ways that they had to duck out early. I like when you look put-together and competent, Hermann said, or something along those lines, there was a lot of kissing going on and Newt wasn’t exactly paying attention to specifics. He ended up losing the deposit on the suit—which is why he stole the sandwich in the first place, actually. Very petty revenge. Full circle.

“Piss off,” Hermann grumbles.

“We’re gonna have to put in for just one hotel room if we wanna sell it, you know,” Newt says, the realization suddenly hitting him. “Maybe even one bed. It’ll look totally suspicious if we don’t, right?”

Hermann meets his eyes for a few awkward, quiet seconds, and then they both quickly look away from each other. Newt stands up and makes a show of gathering their untouched mugs, both of which have gone extremely cold. Hermann slips his glasses back on and opens up his desk drawer to shuffle through his immaculate spreadsheets again, pretending to look for errors that they both know aren't there.

“We’ve,” Hermann finally says, and then clears his throat. “We’ve survived worse. I'm sure we can manage. It’s only for two nights, after all.”

“Yeah, totally,” Newt says.

#newmann #maria's fanfiction tag #FINISHED A FIC AT LAST.... #sailoreuterpe

[another-lost-mc]

is it bad that as much as i like your ocs (theyre amazing, i love them!), i really miss seeing you write for the canon characters

You know, that’s valid. The proportion of Canon and OC content here lately has been way off. It’s sort of the elephant in the room I ignore every time I think about Obey Me and my inspiration automatically focuses on the world building or OC potential instead.

There’s a few reasons why I’ve been less interested in writing canon lately.

1. Disappointment with Nightbringer. I’ll be honest, I’m not sure why this game exists (except to overhaul the franchise’s monetization structure). The premise and lore payoff hasn’t been that great for me personally - it feels more like an AU rather than a canon addition/continuation of the OG game. It feels like we still end up with more loose ends and questions that we don’t have (and may never get) answers for. I’m still waiting for Raphael and Mephisto to be dateable, by the way. As a result, my focus when writing OM content has been using the OG story/characterization using the odd piece from NB that makes sense, and that leads into…

2. My favourite parts of Obey Me are under-developed in canon. I enjoy most of the canon cast, I really do. But I want more Celestial Realm lore, I want more Michael (and not NB HM Lesson 20 Michael), I want more angels in general. They’ve mentioned Uriel a couple times now, give me that angel please and thank you! (No longer relevant, I wrote a version of him myself.)

The world feels so empty at times but there’s so much potential. Parts of the Devildom are more fleshed out with NB adding to it, but what about the other realms? What’s going on with the Sorcerer’s Society and the reapers? I never know if the interesting hints of lore we get are truly relevant or if it’s just something the game decided was convenient for a plot point and never gets mentioned again. NB has been great for Solomon fans since it’s practically a Solomon x MC fanfic written with a forced roommates trope, and that might be the best thing about it from a lore perspective.

My OCs were originally meant to explore gaps in the world and give the canon characters room to grow beyond the one or two defining traits the game keeps repeating over and over. I like writing Mammon when I can have him interact with Karasu, I like imagining the types of angels other exchange students might meet in the Celestial Realm, I like giving a name and personality to the mysterious owner of The Fall where so many events and Devilgram stories take place. Admittedly, it was refreshing to see that other people enjoyed reading about them or imagining them paired with their own MCs/OCs too. I call them the OC Fan Club with genuine affection.

3. It’s not something I talk about often but before I began writing fanfiction, I was mostly focused on concepts or outlines for original stories. Writing supernatural and horror themes always been my interest as a writer so anything with demons/angels/other monstrous races automatically catches my eye.

It’s a little mean to say, but half-baked worlds like the Devildom are a lot of fun to use as a foundation for expanding my own ideas. The OC story I’ve been working on is one way for me to write longer and more complex pieces which is the type I like most. Granted, it includes nearly the entire game cast and it explores the Devildom and Celestial Realm in ways that tie together some of my favourite personal headcanons and characterization. It focuses on angel characters and the history/culture of the Celestial Realm which are two of my main interests for this game. It’s a huge project - the outline is nearly 20k words on its own, it’s practically a novel divided into four sections with 30+ chapters and an epilogue. I can’t even express how excited I am when I get to work on this.

That being said, I do like writing canon content and I’ve been missing it more lately. I got burnt out when it felt like I was losing interest in NB and was pushing myself to keep writing anyway which isn’t great.

Today someone left a nice comment on something I wrote a while back, an angst piece for the demon brothers. I haven’t read it in a while and after going back and re-reading it, I was like, “Huh, I don’t remember liking this as much as I do.” And then I remembered something in my drafts that’s been rotting away, half-edited and ignored, and realized that I wanted to finish it. So, I’ve been slowly tinkering with things while I work on my angels’ story. Some of my plans are ambitious and real life distractions (mostly health related, like my recent bout of COVID) haven’t helped.

If I learned anything about my writing since starting this blog, it’s that:

writing what you’re passionate about is more fulfilling than writing what seems trendy or popular

giving and receiving feedback and fostering friendships/supporting each other keeps the community thriving

self care self care self care

Anyway. My goal has always been to write about the things I love about the game world and the things I create that are inspired by it. It’s a delicate balancing act that I’m still working on.

#jes.replies #hilariously bad takes abound #somewhat personal? #also I’ve been working on an oc side blog to try and organize things better #this may or may not get deleted if delayed embarrassment kicks in tomorrow

[lunajay33]

Been Waiting🩶

Summary: You are Maggie’s little sister and since meeting Carl on the farm you’ve been pinning after him for years until eventually things fall into place after Negan nearly tears you apart

Pairing: Carl Grimes x f!reader

•Masterlist•

Laying in the infirmary barely a shell of a human, the pain that coursed through you everytime you moved, arm shattered, ribs bruised, face busted and blue, fingers broken

After trying to stop Negan from chopping off Carls arm he had one of his goons beat you to a pulp, but you’d do it again and again and again if that meant you could save Carl from another traumatic experience

“Hey junebug how’re ya feeling?” Maggie asked as she sat on the side of your bed

“Thirsty” you groaned with a dry throat

She took the glass from the bedside table and raised it to your both

“Thanks” you said as she sat the cup back down

“Why’d ya do it? You could’ve just waited until Negan stopped, he wasn’t going to go through with it”

“How was I suppose to know that Maggie after what he did to Abraham and…….and Glenn, I couldn’t see that happen to Carl, I would die without Carl”

“You really are head over heels for him aren’t you” she said with a faint smile

“Maggie you know I do, have you seen him around is he okay?”

“He seems fine maybe still a bit shaken”

“Can you tell him…..when he’s free that I wanna see him, he hasn’t stopped by yet, gets pretty lonely here laying in bed all day”

“Okay sis, get some more rest” she said as she placed a kiss on the top of your head before leaving the infirmary

The pain over took you making your head spin so you got some more rest hoping to be a bit better when you woke up

Hours later a knock shock you out of your sleep

“Come in” you called out groggy

Carl came in with a faint smile as he sat on the bed next to you

“Maggie said you wanted to see me”

“Where have you been Grimes?”

“Sorry I’ve just been trying to distract myself”

“I missed you”

“I missed you too, I’m sorry this happened to you because of me” he said rubbing his hand up and down your leg

“It’s not your fault Carl, I’d do anything to save you”

“But why I don’t understand”

“Carl you big idiot, I love you I always have”

“Really? Me?”

“Come on you can’t be that blind, no offense, but everyone seems to know except you”

“I love you too, and I guess I never made a move because if I had you and I mean you were mine that if I lost you it would maybe hurt less if we were never together but after what happened I don’t wanna ignore this anymore”

“I love you Carl”

“I love you too”

Taglist: @carlsdarling

#twd fanfiction #carl grimes series #carl grimes x y/n #carl grimes fluff #carl grimes x reader #carl grimes smut #carl grimes fic #carl grimes imagine #carl grimes fanfiction #twd carl #carl grimes #carl grimes x you #twd #the walking dead carl

[kimtaegis]

I’m feeling quite sad about how much the active bts fandom on tumblr has shrunk and/ or how selective the community has become regarding content interaction. I’ve heard people pointing out a clique-building here lately, and while I’m well aware of closer mutual circles existing – and I can only speak on behalf of my friend group here – these pretty much develop naturally when there’s just no one else who reacts, reblogs from and talks to you anymore except for these handful of people. I don’t like that some people perceive these “cliques” as “exclusive”, for example to content creators only. that’s bullshit; it’s certainly not great to have only other cc’s support your work because they personally know how much time and effort it takes. also, knowing how lovely most of these people are, you’d get immediately followed back and showered with love too as soon as you’d even show a speckle of kindness on a regular basis, regardless of whether you make gifs yourself or not. ccs dedicating sets to each other isn’t a sign of exclusivity, but rather us holding onto and appreciating people who still give us at least some motivation to create and post in the first place anymore, because there’s quite literally no one else left by now.

#this is rather general so I’m putting more personal thoughts in the tags here #I really don’t feel like creating anymore :( #like I genuinely only post for birthdays or gifts cause I see no point in anything else anymore #at least that one person will care you know #I don’t post that much anymore but when I do I put so much love and effort into it #and it never feels good to click that post button anymore #also. #man it fucking stings to realise that people who follow you definitely scrolled past your own post #cause they reblogged sth from you that you posted before your self reblog #it makes me so so anxious and insecure #I’ve been pressuring myself to post so much only to be met with dismissiveness when I do #that doesn’t feel great in the slightest #I said a while ago that I don’t want to take a break and that I want to keep creating #but the disappointment lately was pretty drastic #I’ve been at this point several times before so it’ll probably pass again #but it’ll never not suck to see your days of work and creativity be ignored #it feels once again pointless to try to make original things #should just stick to 10 gifs of the same clip #or shirtless tannie gifs #it’ll get me the exact same recognition if not three to five times more #and takes so much less time

[river-of-wine]

A bonus Molly sketch from my gilded cage things! Given the circumstances for Molly in particular during chapter 4 and the fact that Dutch being the way he is would likely just use her as an accessory for the evening I can’t imagine her having a good time, but at least the dress is pretty

#rdr2 #molly o’shea #I’ve thought about this a lot #she would not get a second away from him I’m sure #he can’t stand her even breathing the wrong way around him at that point but having a woman with him would make him seem less suspicious #which is a big thing during that mission #so molly would just be hanging onto his arm all evening unable to go anywhere or speak to anyone by herself #I’d get into how she would also not be received well by many people there especially if she approached them alone #because she is Irish and these are a bunch of rich people and it is 1899 #I have a lot to say about the importance of molly being an Irish immigrant as an Irish person myself #but I don’t feel like giving a history lesson here #so to condense my thoughts a little molly would have been stuck with Dutch the entire evening #surrounded by people who probably have an inherent dislike for her once they hear her speak #or ignore her in favour of whatever Dutch is saying #which is pretty similar to how the gang already treats her #so even once she finally leaves camp it’s just the same #there is more I could say especially regarding the dress itself but that’s too long to write here #fanart #digital art #sketches #my art

[liam-summers]

You know, as a child/teen, I always had a preference for AtS over BtVS, but rewatching AtS as an adult now, I can’t remember why that was. Like, I definitely still do like some parts of the show (shoutout to season 1), but I’m finding that a lot of the shine has worn off and that it’s just not as enjoyable as it used to be. I used to really love all the characters, much more than the characters on Buffy, but now I find myself not really caring about the majority of them most of the time, and actually feeling more for the BtVS characters. The show is, a lot of the time, really inconsistent with characters, plots, themes, direction, and I’m just finding it hard to be as invested as I once was…

Maybe this is a result of rewatching the show multiple times and becoming more critical about certain things that I always wished were different but never really thought too deeply about. Idk, but tbh I don’t think that I will ever rewatch AtS all the way through again. I think I’ll just rewatch the episodes that I really love.

#it’s really interesting to me because you would think that as an adult I would relate more to the characters on AtS #and less with the characters on BtVS #but I’m finding that AtS isn’t really more adult or darker #it’s way too disjointed and inconsistent in what it’s trying to say and how it portrays its characters for that to comes across for me #there’s a lot that I need to ignore to make some of the things on Ats make sense #and alot that the show just tells me is adult and dark without ever really exploring it in a meaningful way #idk if that’s just a me problem though #anyway #just been thinking about this and wanted to write it out somewhere #ats #text post