#I really hope this helps everyone be kinder

[loveesiren]

𝖤𝗆𝖾𝗋𝗀𝖾𝗇𝖼𝗒 𝖢𝗈𝗇𝗍𝖺𝖼𝗍 (𝖯𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝖮𝗇𝖾)

Rafe Cameron x Reader | Pt. 2

a/n: hi my lovelies! I wrote this based on one of my favorite songs! Emergency Contact by Pierce The Veil. It ended up being really long so I decided to chop it up into three parts! Not sure if I'll write more for it but I'm just happy to get out of my writer's block and post something new. I hope you enjoy! Feedback welcome and encouraged :)

synopsis: Y/N has always been close to the Cameron family, practically a part of it after years of friendship. Beneath the surface, unspoken feelings simmer between her and Rafe, but neither of them can muster the courage to admit it. When Y/N finally decides to move on, setting her sights on a new man, he’s forced to confront the truth: losing her might cost him more than he ever realized.

warnings: slight angst

wc: 3.1k+

Rafe wasn’t used to girls like you. Sweet, kind, and angelic. His experience with women had mostly consisted of those who were after his money or his drugs, their intentions shallow and self-serving. But you were different. You didn’t want anything from him—not his wealth, not his reputation, not his vices. Your every interaction with him felt genuine, and it threw him off balance. You made him feel things he couldn’t quite name, emotions foreign and unsettling in their depth.

The first time Sarah brought you home was about three years ago. You had recently moved to the Outer Banks and met Sarah at a party at the Boneyard. You hit it off immediately, your laughter and warmth cutting through the chaos of the night. Sarah had invited you to dinner with her family, and you accepted, not knowing how much that evening would change everything.

You wore a white sundress that night, the fabric brushing against your sun-kissed skin. Your hair fell in soft waves past your shoulders, and you carried yourself with effortless grace. You looked like the picture-perfect Kook, someone destined to fit seamlessly into their world. Sarah had assured you her family would love you—and they did. But no one was more captivated than her brother, Rafe.

“Rafe, this is Y/n,” Sarah introduced as you stepped into the dining room.

“So nice to meet you!” you said warmly, your smile lighting up the space.

Sarah had expected Rafe to scoff or brush you off like he usually did with her friends. Instead, he stood there, visibly flustered. His blue eyes darted from you to the floor as he scratched the back of his head, his hair falling slightly into his face.

“I-uh-you too,” he stammered, his voice uncharacteristically soft.

Sarah smirked, barely holding back a laugh. It was rare to see Rafe like this, vulnerable and unsure. Throughout dinner, he was unrecognizable—quiet, attentive, and completely entranced by you. He didn’t crack a single sarcastic remark or roll his eyes like he usually did. Instead, he listened intently as you chatted with Rose and Ward about your background, your studies, and your dreams. His heart skipped a beat every time you laughed, the sound stirring something deep inside him.

Later that night, as you and Sarah changed into pajamas in her room, she couldn’t help but tease you.

“Rafe likes you,” she said, a sly grin spreading across her face.

You blinked in surprise. “Really? He seems… shy.”

Sarah snorted. “Oh, he’s far from shy. At least, not with most people. I’ve never seen him clam up like that before.”

You bit your lip, a soft smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. The thought of Rafe Cameron—the same Rafe who intimidated just about everyone—getting nervous around you sent a flutter through your chest.

Over the months, you became a fixture in the Camerons’ lives. You grew close to Sarah, sharing secrets and adventures like lifelong friends. But it was your bond with Rafe that surprised everyone—including yourself. Around you, he was different. The sharp edges of his personality softened, his temper cooled. He was kinder, calmer, and, for the first time in years, genuinely happy.

Sarah noticed the change immediately. She even started to enjoy spending time with her brother—something she’d never thought possible. Whenever you were around, Rafe seemed lighter, his dark moods kept at bay by your presence.

And while you’d never admit it out loud, you’d started to feel something too. The way his eyes lingered on you, the way his voice softened when he spoke your name—it all made your heart race in a way you couldn’t ignore. You knew it was risky, falling for your best friend’s brother. But with Rafe, it felt inevitable.

Today was an exciting day. You and Sarah were helping Rafe move into his new house, a milestone he’d worked tirelessly to achieve. It wasn’t as grand as Tanneyhill, lacking the opulence and legacy of the Cameron estate, but it was something entirely his. A charming seaside home, bathed in sunlight and kissed by the ocean breeze, a place where he could finally carve out a life of his own. With Sarah already living with John B, you knew Rafe had felt out of place staying at home at 24. Now, this house was his fresh start.

“This is gorgeous!” you called out, your voice carrying across the open space as you stepped onto the balcony off the living room. The view was breathtaking: the endless stretch of ocean meeting the horizon, waves rolling in with rhythmic grace. The sun warmed your skin, and the salty air filled your lungs, making your heart feel light and free.

Rafe followed you outside, a soft smile playing on his lips. “I thought you’d like it,” he said, his voice tinged with pride. But while the sea and sky formed a masterpiece before him, his gaze lingered on you instead, captivated by the way the sunlight danced in your hair and the way your eyes sparkled with joy.

“I mean, look at this view!” you exclaimed, leaning against the railing and spreading your arms wide as if to embrace the entire ocean. “I could look at this forever!”

Rafe’s eyes never left you. “Me too,” he murmured, so softly it was almost a whisper. His words weren’t meant for the horizon or the waves, but for you—the only view that truly mattered to him in that moment.

You turned to look at him, a grin lighting up your face. “I brought champagne! To celebrate!” you announced, practically bouncing on your feet before darting back through the house and out to your car to grab the bottles you’d picked up. Returning triumphantly, you popped one open, the cork flying with a soft “pop” and a few fizzy streams spilling onto the hardwood floor. You laughed it off, quickly pouring everyone a glass.

“To new beginnings!” you declared, raising your glass high, your eyes sparkling as they met Rafe’s.

“To new beginnings,” Rafe echoed, his voice soft but steady as he clinked his glass against yours, his gaze lingering on you a little longer than necessary.

The rest of the afternoon was a flurry of activity. John B and Rafe tackled the heavy lifting, moving boxes and furniture, while you and Sarah set to work unpacking and arranging. The kitchen was priority number one, ensuring Rafe would at least have a functional space to cook while settling in. Between trips to Tanneyhill and the furniture store, laughter filled the air, making the hard work feel less like a chore and more like an adventure.

By the time evening rolled around, the four of you collapsed onto the couch, surrounded by a sea of half-opened boxes. You leaned back, exhaustion mingling with the lingering buzz of champagne.

“How do you have so much stuff?” Sarah groaned, shooting Rafe an incredulous look.

Rafe smirked, leaning back against the couch. “Please, I seem to remember a few boatloads of crap when we moved you to Poguelandia.”

“He’s not wrong,” John B chimed in, raising an eyebrow at Sarah. “Our room is mostly your stuff. I have, like, one drawer.”

“Oh, shut up!” Sarah laughed, playfully slapping her boyfriend on the shoulder. She yawned, stretching her arms over her head. “Speaking of our room,” she said through another yawn, “I’m ready for bed.”

You giggled as John B helped her up from the couch, the champagne’s bubbly warmth making you feel light and carefree.

“Thanks for the help,” Rafe said, walking them to the door. You listened as the Twinkie’s engine roared to life, fading into the distance as Rafe closed the door and returned to the couch.

“Rafeyyyy,” you whined playfully, stretching out the nickname as you leaned into the cushions. “I think I might’ve had a little too much champagne.”

Rafe chuckled, his lips curving into an easy smile as he settled beside you. He loved the way your nickname for him rolled off your tongue, soft and endearing. “That’s okay. You can stay here tonight. Take the bed; I’ll crash out here.”

“What? No!” you protested, sitting up a little straighter. “It’s your first night in your new home! I don’t want to ruin that.”

“Trust me, sweetheart,” he said, his voice low and warm, “you’re not ruining anything.”

“I don’t even have a change of clothes,” you pouted, crossing your arms for dramatic effect.

Rafe’s laugh was soft, a sound that made your chest feel lighter. He reached out, gently tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “Go shower. I’ll make the bed and find you something to wear.”

Your cheeks warmed under his touch, but you nodded, a cheeky smile spreading across your face. “Okay,” you said, hopping up and darting toward the bathroom.

You were grateful you and Sarah had spent time unpacking the essentials in the master suite. Grabbing a towel, you locked the door behind you and turned on the shower. Steam quickly filled the space, cocooning you in its warmth. As the water cascaded over your skin, washing away the day’s sweat and exhaustion, you let yourself relax, the events of the day swirling in your mind. Rafe’s soft smiles and gentle touches lingered in your thoughts, leaving your heart fluttering in a way you couldn’t quite shake.

You tried to push the thoughts from your mind. You and Rafe were close friends—nothing more. You couldn’t justify having feelings for your best friend’s older brother. Besides, Sarah had set you up on a date with JJ Maybank for tomorrow. The blonde Pogue was someone you’d grown to know well. He was carefree and fun, always ready to brighten everyone’s day with his infectious energy.

You were genuinely excited for your date with JJ. Rafe, on the other hand, didn’t see you as anything more than a friend. Sure, he’d had a small crush on you when you first met, but that had been ages ago. He’d never made a move, so you assumed those feelings had long since faded. You shook off the intrusive thoughts and focused on finishing your shower, letting the warm water wash away any lingering doubts.

Meanwhile, Rafe moved with quiet purpose. He carefully made the bed, choosing the softest sheets he could find and fluffing the pillows with meticulous care. On the edge of the bed, he laid out one of his favorite T-shirts and a pair of sweatpants for you. Comfort was his priority. It always was when it came to you. He wanted you to feel at ease, to be happy. Deep down, he was completely and hopelessly in love with you, though he’d never admit it. The thought of saying it out loud felt terrifying—what if it changed everything?

Hearing the shower turn off, Rafe quickly exited the room, retreating to the couch. He pressed play on a random movie, letting the screen light up with familiar scenes as a distraction. Ten minutes later, you emerged from the bathroom, wrapped in his oversized clothes, your damp hair framing your face.

“Hey, how are you feeling?” he asked, his voice soft.

You sank onto the couch beside him. “Better. Sleepy,” you admitted with a small smile. “Thank you,” you added, gesturing to the clothes you wore.

“No problem,” he replied, fiddling with his earlobe, his gaze flickering nervously between you and the TV.

“What are you watching?” you asked, pulling your knees to your chest and resting your chin on them.

“Uh, just some old movie,” he said with a shrug. “Put it on for background noise.”

You squinted at the screen, quickly recognizing the iconic characters. A playful grin spread across your face. “Rafe Cameron, are you watching Titanic?”

Rafe glanced at the TV, his cheeks flushing. He hadn’t even realized what he’d put on. “Oh, I… I guess so,” he mumbled, scratching the back of his neck.

You laughed softly, turning to him. There was a shy look in his eyes, but it wasn’t about the movie. It was something else, something deeper. He looked like he wanted to say something, the words hovering on the tip of his tongue. But before he could speak, he clamped his mouth shut, redirecting his attention to the screen.

“You wanna watch it?” he asked quietly.

“Yeah,” you said with a smile, leaning back into the couch. The comfort of the moment settled over you like a blanket.

You hadn’t planned on falling asleep, but the champagne and the long day had drained you. Before you knew it, you were slumped against Rafe, your head resting on his lap as soft snores escaped your lips.

Rafe’s heart swelled as he looked down at you, a tender smile spreading across his face. He gently played with the ends of your hair, his fingers brushing against the silky strands. As the movie reached its emotional climax, he found himself tearing up—not just at the tragic ending but at the overwhelming emotions swirling inside him. You looked so peaceful, so angelic, and he felt an ache in his chest he couldn’t ignore.

Carefully, he shifted, lifting your head to slide out from under you. Scooping you up into his strong arms, he carried you to the bedroom, mindful not to disturb your slumber. He pulled back the covers and tucked you in, making sure you were snug before clicking off the light. Leaning down, he pressed a soft kiss to your temple, lingering for a moment to take in your serene beauty. With a reluctant sigh, he made his way back to the couch.

Sleep didn’t come easily for Rafe that night. He tossed and turned, his thoughts consumed by you. He’d tried to bury his feelings, tried to convince himself that friendship was enough. But the more he tried, the stronger those feelings grew. In the quiet of the night, he allowed himself to daydream—a cozy little house by the sea, a dog, maybe even kids. A life with you. But reality crept in, reminding him that to you, he was just a friend. Nothing more.

The next morning, the savory aroma of eggs and bacon wafted through the air, stirring you from sleep. You rubbed the remnants of slumber from your eyes and glanced around, the unfamiliar surroundings reminding you where you were. Rafe’s new house. His king-sized bed cradled you in luxurious comfort, but the empty space beside you felt oddly hollow. For a fleeting moment, you’d hoped to find Rafe still asleep there. The thought made you frown, though you quickly reminded yourself that he’d slept on the couch—because of course, Rafe was a gentleman like that.

You padded softly toward the kitchen, following the sound of sizzling. “Smells good,” you said, your voice still heavy with sleep.

Rafe jumped slightly but turned to you with a soft smile. “Oh, hey! You’re up! I made breakfast.”

“Thanks, Rafey,” you replied with a grin, sliding onto a stool at the kitchen island. Then guilt crept into your tone. “Sorry I got all drunk and stole your bed.”

He shook his head dismissively, turning back to the stove. “No need to apologize. I’m just glad you got some rest after yesterday.” He plated eggs and bacon, setting it before you. “Did you sleep okay?”

“Like a baby,” you chuckled, picking up a crisp strip of bacon.

“Good,” he replied, his voice warm as he resumed cooking. “So, any big plans today? Wanna help me unpack more of this mess?”

You paused mid-bite, your mind flickering to the evening ahead. “I can help for a bit, but I have a date tonight, so I’ll need to head home early to get ready.”

The words hung in the air, slicing through the calm. Rafe’s hand stilled, his grip tightening on the spatula. He didn’t turn to look at you, knowing his face might betray the knot tightening in his chest. In all the time he’d known you, he’d never heard you talk about a real date. Sure, you danced with guys at parties or flirted harmlessly, but this—this was different. His heart twisted painfully, the kind of ache he couldn’t ignore.

“A date?” he asked, forcing his tone to sound casual, though the words felt like sandpaper against his throat. “With who?”

You hesitated before answering, as if bracing yourself. “JJ,” you said quietly. “Sarah set it up. I haven’t been on a date in a long time, so I’m not really sure what to expect.”

Rafe’s mind reeled. JJ Maybank. Of all people. Why would Sarah do this—when she knew how he felt about you? He plastered on a tight smile, masking his turmoil as he finally turned to face you. “It’ll be great,” he said, his voice steady despite the storm raging inside him.

“You think so?” you asked, chewing your lip nervously. “I’m kind of... nervous.”

He swallowed hard, shoving his feelings down where they couldn’t escape. “Yeah,” he said, the words tasting bitter. “You’re a catch. He’d be a total idiot not to like you.”

Your lips curved into a warm smile, and for a moment, your gaze locked with his. Those ocean-blue eyes of his held something unspoken, something tender. “Thanks, Rafe,” you said softly, your voice full of gratitude.

He forced a grin, though it felt hollow. “Of course,” he replied. “Tell you what—don’t worry about the unpacking. Go home and get ready for your big date. Can’t wait to hear all about it.”

You beamed, finishing the last bites of breakfast. “You’re the best,” you said, grabbing your purse and heading for the door. “Thanks for letting me crash! I’ll get your clothes back to you tomorrow!”

Rafe watched as you hurried to the door, his heart aching with every step you took away from him. He raised a hand in a mock salute, a forced smile still glued to his face. “Have fun,” he said, his voice hollow.

The door clicked shut behind you, and suddenly the house felt suffocatingly empty. Rafe stood in silence, staring at the spot where you’d just been, your laughter still echoing faintly in his ears. He let out a sharp breath, his chest heaving with suppressed emotion. Before he could stop himself, he grabbed the nearest glass off the counter and hurled it against the wall. It shattered into a thousand tiny pieces, much like the hope he’d been quietly holding onto.

His hands gripped the edge of the counter, his knuckles white as he tried to steady himself. She’s gone, he thought bitterly. She was never mine to lose, but somehow, I lost her anyway.

For years, he’d found comfort in being the one you turned to—when you were too drunk at a party, overwhelmed by a panic attack, or even just bored on a lazy afternoon. You’d always come to him. But now, you were running toward someone else. JJ fucking Maybank.

And there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it.

© loveesiren 2025 - do not copy, translate, transfer, or repost my work without my permission. if you find my work on sites other than through links i've provided, please notify me.

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[lnfours]

focal point ☆ chapter 4 | l.n

summary: as taylor swift once said: 'in a world of boys, he's a gentleman'.

warnings: art student!reader, best friend/college student!oscar, college student!lando, slight enemies to lovers!au, slight grumpy x sunshine, unedited, some filler stuff this chapter, a hint of fluff here and there, and are we finally getting somewhere with this??? idk????

message from jordan: happy new year, everyone! i hope you all had a fun and safe holiday season, and i hope this year is kinder to you than previous ones <3 thank you for being so patient with me on getting something out for you guys. i'm struggling a bit with writer's block, but hopefully i can push through and some more writing done by the end of this week :) again, thank you for being so patient. sending you all my love, always <33

series masterlist | listen to the playlist

the sunlight pouring into your bedroom windows made you open your eyes. however, you immediately regretted it. a pounding sensation filling your head the minute your eyes met the light. you let out a groan, your hand coming up to your temples as you buried yourself back into your pillows. 

“here,” a voice said from next to you, “take this.”

your eyes flew open again, lando’s figure coming into frame as he held out the bottle of advil and a glass of water towards you. you blinked at him as he softly smiled, nodding back towards the medicine bottle. 

“thanks,” you mumbled, looking around the room for any signs of what could’ve happened last night. you swallowed the pills down with the glass of water that he had in his other hand. he took the glass back from you, leaning off the foot of the bed to place it on your desk. 

“did we…?” you trailed off, sitting up. you had on a pair of pajama pants and an unfamiliar hoodie, a pair of clothes you don’t remember changing into. 

he shook his head, a soft smile on his face, “no,”

“thank god,” you sighed, placing your pounding head on your knees.

“did have to carry you out of the party though,” he said, “lily’s the one who got you changed. hoodie is mine, though. you were shivering on the walk back here last night. i slept on the floor, don’t worry.”

you looked over at the floor next to the bed, now noticing the folded up blanket and pillow on the carpet. you ignored how your heart tightened in your chest as his gesture, maybe he was a gentleman.

“i don’t even remember having that much to drink,” you said, “was it really that bad?”

“the guys convinced you to play a few rounds of beer pong,” he chuckled softly, “you suck, by the way.”

you let out a soft laugh, “yeah, need to work on my skills, i guess.”

“yeah, you can say that,” he laughed softly, “you hungry? there’s this really great spot off campus if you want something to eat.”

you nodded, “yeah, just let me change and brush my teeth and stuff.”

he nodded, biting his lip a bit to hold back the smile threatening to break out on his face, “yeah, sure! i’ll uhm.. wait for you out here.”

he jabbed his thumb over his shoulder towards the door as you nodded. when he closed the bedroom door behind him, you couldn’t help the smile on your face. you weren’t sure what had flipped, but suddenly he was making you giddy like a high school girl with a crush. and honestly, you weren’t sure if you were that mad about it. 

you moved as quickly as your hungover state let you, throwing on a pair of jeans and shoes before brushing your teeth quickly and grabbing your things. 

you walked out to the living room, spotting him on the couch as he scrolled on his phone. you smiled when he looked up at you, putting his phone in the pocket of his hoodie as he stood up. 

“ready?

you nodded, the two of you walking out of the apartment and towards the parking lot where he kept his car. you watched as he unlocked the doors, opening the passenger side door for you. you thanked him, smiling softly before he shut the door gently behind you. he jogged around to his side before getting in. 

“here,” he said, handing you his phone, “play whatever music you want.”

you held his phone in your hand, “do you want me to put in your passcode or do you..?”

“oh, it’s 4444.” he said, backing out of the parking space as you snickered. he looked over at you with a soft laugh as you shook your head, scrolling through his spotify.

“what?”

“your passcode is a bunch of 4s?”

he shrugged, “it’s easy to remember,”

“also easy for someone to get into your phone.” you said and he shrugged, making a right out of the school campus. 

you shuffled one of his recently played playlists, humming along to the songs you knew. you watched the view of the town out the window, thankful that your headache had slowly started to go away. 

you didn’t notice, too wrapped up in the beauty of england to see the way he looked over at you occasionally. he smiled to himself, wondering if you knew how gorgeous you were when you were in your own world. he had seen it in you before, especially when you’d lose yourself talking about art or working on the project. something about you being so unaware of your beauty made his heart rate pick up. 

he pulled into the lot of the diner, finding a parking spot before putting the car in park. he made it a mission to open all the doors for you, making you softly laugh and thank him every time before the hostess led you to the booth seat in the corner of the small diner. 

you flipped through the menu, “how’d you find this place?”

“i’ve been coming here since my first year,” he said, “they have the best pancakes in my opinion. food’s definitely better than the cafeteria on campus.”

“anything’s better than that place,” you said, “not hard to beat.”

he nodded with a soft laugh, “very true.”

after ordering your food, you ended up finding yourselves in conversation, talking about anything and everything.

“are you heading back home for the holidays?” he asked, taking a bite of his food as you shrugged your shoulders.

“probably not,” you said, “let’s just say things with my family haven’t always been…” “picture perfect?” he asked, finishing the sentence for you.

“yeah,” you said, “i normally just head back home with lily for the holidays, but with her new secret man, i don’t want to intrude if she’s planning on bringing him.”

“still haven’t met him yet?”

you shook your head, “surprisingly no. i don’t want to push her, but i really wanna know who the guy is.”

he nodded, “yeah, i’m in the same boat. oscar’s been talking about this girl, but i haven’t seen her around.”

“yeah, i texted him the other day and he said he had plans with her,” you said, “haven’t had our usual study sessions in a while.”

“hold on,” he said, “you don’t think…”

you furrowed your eyebrows, confused at what he was getting at until it clicked. you looked at him with wide eyes, “oh, god. i don’t know.”

“surely she’d say something to you, right?”

“i’d think so,” you shrugged, “unless she wasn’t sure it was going to be a serious thing, then i’m not sure.”

“i’ll try to get more out of him the next time i see him,” he said, finishing off the last few bites of his breakfast, “now i’m curious.”

you nodded, finishing your food as well, “me too,”

the waitress came back with the check, you fishing your wallet from your bag, but he was quicker in getting his card out. 

you sent him a look as he smiled at the girl, thanking her before his eyes landed back on you. his smile only got wider at the look you were sending him, “what?”

“how much do i owe you?”

he shook his head, “don’t worry about it.”

“lando-”

“nope, it was my idea,” he chuckled back at you, “you can get it next time if you really want to.”

next time?

you sighed softly before giving into him, watching as he signed his name on the receipt, “i guess i can live with that. thank you, by the way.”

he nodded, the two of you making your way out of the small diner, “anytime.”

“probably a long shot and you totally don’t have to if you don’t want to,” you said, walking towards his car, “but did you wanna watch a movie or something when we get back?”

he smiled as he opened the car door for you, “yeah, sure,”

you sent him another smile as you got in the car, feeling the same giddy feeling you felt earlier. 

whatever this feeling was, you really didn’t want it to go away.

[waywardstation]

PLA PORTAL AU

I’ve had this AU in my head for a long, long time, but I didn’t start to develop it until around November, when some really cool people were willing to discuss it with me and help me figure out some concepts with their great ideas! Thank you @ingo-ingoing-ingone , @blueisquitetired , @the-digital-pen , and @fraymotiif !

In this AU, an Aperture-like facility was attempting to construct a new legendary Pokémon (think Mewtwo, or Type Null/Silvally). So the facility developed the RKS (Reactionary Knowledge System) pseudo-living program. This program’s job was to put participants — both people and Pokemon — through tests, monitoring them to make sure they solve it, and download their thought process data through chip implants. RKS would use that data to create algorithms, and configure thought processes and behaviors for the bio-engineered legendary.

However much like Portal lore, RKS destroys the facility and everyone as the data it’s trying to filter constructs unstable behaviors. The damaged and abandoned facility is left to rot, and the lower levels are subjected to deterioration and plant overgrowth. All participants from different controlled testing groups are put to sleep — two of which are Ingo and Emmet from the co-op testing group.

However as time passes, RKS wakes Ingo up as a sole participant to test and gather data from. And for a period of months/years, Ingo is forced to participate in this indefinite testing, the sole test subject collecting data for a project that will never be finished.

However, that changes when Ingo is put into a testing chamber that requires two people to complete it. He is finally given a partner — despite hoping it would be Emmet, RKS purposely gives him a random test subject instead; Akari.

—————

INGO, AKARI, AND EMMET

INGO

He’s grown rather pessimistic and jaded due to indefinitely enduring RKS’ constant apathy and belittlement towards him. Akari’s kinder company softens him again.

He remembers who Emmet is to him, and wants to escape the testing chambers and get down to the lowest levels to find him and wake him up. Does not remember most of the finer details of his brother.

Has worn the same clothes and used the same equipment since his first day testing. Blech.

AKARI

Unlike Ingo, RKS’ antagonistic behaviors don’t wear on her; she’s rather optimistic, and the system’s insults harmlessly slide right off her. This attitude builds Ingo’s own resilience.

She is still getting used to being awake after being in cryosleep for so long. She doesn’t remember much about anything other than her own name at this point. She needs lots of help to get up to speed, but she is a very quick learner.

Unfortunately, she cannot swim well. It makes her terrified to do any water-based tests. Ingo tries to make sure she never lets RKS learn that. It may only be a matter of time, though, seeing as it will eventually collect her thought processing data.

EMMET

After RKS Akari’s constant sassing towards them has begun to embolden Ingo as well, the system decides to get back at them both by taking Emmet and putting his consciousness into a busted core. The test subject wants his brother back so badly? He can have him like this, and it’s Akari’s fault.

Emmet’s core unit is badly damaged, and when RKS leaves him for Ingo and Akari to find, he cannot say or do much. Ingo is very careful with him — he’s scared of what further damage can do to Emmet.

Ingo and Akari, once breaking out of the chambers and crawling through the lower levels, look for core repair stations to gradually replace and fix Emmet’s parts. They’re able to entirely fix him eventually, but they still need to get Emmet back into his actual body, which is still asleep.

Emmet is almost certainly the train facts core. He can tell you so much about trains. Did the damaged core unit have all this info loaded into it already, or did Emmet already know this on his own? Ingo can’t remember enough about him to know.

RKS (not final design)

Built to look like Arceus — that is where the similarities end.

It has participants test with portal guns and jump boots to help gather data more applicable to the legendary’s own powers and abilities.

The damage to the facility and the bio-engineered legendary’s unit that RKS is connected to has destroyed the program’s ability to recognize the project’s end point, leading it to fall into a cycle of endless testing. It will never be satisfied with the amount of data it has.

The facility was not as careful with monitoring its participants’ temperaments and mentalities as it should have been. Filtering data from so many varying (and somewhat dangerous) personalities and behaviors and thoughts overrode the program’s pseudo-living deep learning processes. It all clashed as the algorithms it was creating was more connected to its system than it should have been, and the unfinished thought processes drove it insane before it could perfect and unify it.

Over time this behavior had smoothed itself out and developed into a generally apathetic and uncaring personality, who is quick to be hurtful if it feels it will mold others’ behaviors to do what it needs. When Ingo was first woken up, he had to deal with the scarier, less developed and unpredictable personality.

—————

I am excited to do more with this AU! It’s been fun to develop ^^

[proneterror204]

Fear vs War 2

Fright Knight was in Gotham trying to find his target. The clown was in Arkham, so he was going for the Scarecrow. He was hoping to find him before the rogue could spread any Artificial Fear. He was going for the Scarecrow's Minions, who preferred to go by goons, hoping to scare his location from them. when mortals meet him it triggered the 'fight or flight' instinct, as he was Phobos a God of fear. But in Gotham this was only a hinderance, because everyone choose fight. EVERY. SINGLE. ONE.

Fright Knight: *trying to scare some info from a goon*

Orphan:...*Waves her hand to get his attention*

Fright Knight: *startled but doesent jump* Can i help you?

Orphan: *signs*

Fright Knight: I can speak all languages, but not sign language. Truly a flaw in Divinity.

Spoiler: She's asking who you are and what are you doing here?

Fright Knight: I am Fright Knight! Greek god of Fear and Right hand to the Ghost King. I am here to punish the rogue know as Scarecrow for his crimes against my domain. He is out of Arkham Yes?

Spoiler: He's in the Hospital getting a colonoscopy. Hes like 50.

Fright Knight: i also planned on giving him a colonoscopy. but very well. i suppose ill just have to go visit Wonder Woman.

Spoiler: to avenge you're Father?

Fright Knight: HA! No, i wish to thank her on her victory and introduce myself to my aunt.

Spoiler: ah Ares is a shit father huh? I know the feeling.

Fright Knight: I advise you avoid saying his name, But yes War is no kinder to children then it is anyone else. Worse even...

Orphan and Spoiler: *nods*

Spoiler: Hey i gotta say NICE purple flames.

Fright Knight: Its not really a choice. My mother is pink and my father is black. together it makes purple. I dont suppose i could convince you to keep this visit a secret from the Batman. My liege doesent want his attention and paranoia.

Spoiler: oh you absolutely could- *she stops and puts a hand to her ear and talks to someone on the comms*. Hey lets make a deal. theres a riot in Arkham asylum. you help us clean that up and Batman will never hear a word of this. Deal?

Fright Knight: Deal. now what do you have in mind?

Spoiler: *Grins evilly*

(insert any jojo theme here)

As Arkham's riot continued many Rogues, convicts, and psych patients were making a escape attempt only one vigilante stood in their way. Spoiler looking strangely buff with her face more defined and over animated(jojo style) stood alone. In front of the rioting mod she struck a pose and behind her a black and purple knight appeared. Both of them struck a pose and flexed as a aura of fear and terror washed over the mob making them flee back into Arkham and into there cells.

True to their deal Batman never heard a word of this. They used sign instead.

[writella]

The Confession

Synopsis: Confessions shared with the wrong person gone so sinfully right.

Details: rick grimes x reader, afab!reader, smut—masturbation, unprotected sex, riding, both rick and reader being desperate in the dark. I made the exact reason for the confession and occasion very vague. 18+, wc: 2.6k. Proof read, but there might be some errors.

A/N: Not sure how much I like this one, but I had this idea back in early October and I wanted to finish it and give you guys something after a whole month.

I miss you, I’m sorry. Hope you’re all well!! With love from writella. ♡

Your voice is solemn and heavy as you sigh before starting, “I don’t do this very often,” you say, “I hope this is okay.” Your eyes lowering shamefully as you stop. It’s only the first sentence and you’re finding it hard to continue. It’s almost as if there are needles piercing into your throat. “I just feel so embarrassed,” you admit.

Then you pause.

No response from him comes after.

Only silence fills the dark and hallow space of the wooden confession box. Only your thoughts, every creak you made on the built-in bench, and the light wind that rustled from the cracked door were heard.

You wait a second longer.

Hoping.

But still, nothing.

Part of you was suspecting that Gabriel would have been more inviting, telling you it’s okay; and doing so with his kind and gentle voice, but he wasn’t. He wasn’t doing anything it seemed. You only saw the silhouette of his face when you walked inside— the outline of a nose and mouth, really. He seemed to be sitting as far from the small barred window as he could, but you didn’t dare look again. You didn’t even turn on the light fixture in the corner. Your fear was all too big, and his unwavering quietness made it worse.

Maybe you had come at the wrong time, maybe you interrupted him. You almost wanted to ask. But maybe confessions happened in complete silence… you didn’t know anymore, but at this point, you were hoping so. You had already wasted five minutes and managed only one sentence. Perhaps he heard the fear in your voice and was just trying to be a good listener… yes, maybe, you pretend as you urged yourself to start again:

You breathe in sharply, “Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.” The words come out in an uneasy, hushed whisper. “It happens a lot and I know it’s wrong. And you’re probably going to look at me differently after this, but I have to tell someone so I can stop.”

Your eyes screw shut, the next phrase coming out jumbled and continuous as you try to explain yourself quickly: “I’ve journaled about it and told myself it’s wrong but it’s not helping.” You start to weep, almost laughing at yourself, “I feel so stupid.”

You sigh and you almost think you hear him do so too, but you keep going.

“I’ve been thinking about someone,” you finally say. “For a long time. And I know it’s bad, I know it, but I do it anyway. It's all I think about.”

Another pause.

You catch your breath.

You wait.

But nothing.

So, you start again.

“I think I love him sometimes.” And if you couldn’t get any more timid, your cheeks flush, and your voice grows quieter, “I like his hair, and his eyes, those button-downs he always wears…” you smile at yourself, these were silly things, “Even his beard.”

And then you hear him shuffle, and a light sound is emitted.

It startles you, but silence ensues again thereafter. Maybe you imagined it.

“I like his kindness too. People would usually say strong or giving, but that’s what I like to tell him— that he’s kind. I think he’s kinder than other people give him credit for. He’s just protective. Everyone, and especially himself, we put a lot of pressure on him to make the hard decisions, but, really…” and there it is, “that's not the only way I think about him. There are things–” your throat tightens again– “ things that I think about. And things that I do.” Your eyes screw tight as you force yourself to say it, “I touch myself.”

Another bout of silence comes before the question.

One you’d never suspect.

“Can you describe it?” The voice asks, dark and curious.

The cool spring air of the night turns cold, but it adds no relief to the summer heat that burns in your heart as it begins to beat painfully. The texture in his voice, the inflection at the end that lined the sentence as a request, it rings through one ear and out the other and back again in a cycle.

You knew who it was.

“What?” You shriek so lightly as if playing dumb would help you now. He knew who you were talking about, you made it so desperately obvious.

“Can you,” he repeats steadily, “describe it?”

“I… shouldn’t.”

“What other better time could there be?” You can’t tell if he truly means it. His voice remains firm and lets out no hints of his true intentions, but despite doubt, you start anyway. He’s right after all, you’re in here because there hasn’t been a better time.

“I- I start by touching up my thighs, trailing up slowly… I always get so nervous… I never do it fast because I know I shouldn’t do it while thinking about you- about him,” you correct yourself, squeezing your thighs together, your hands gripping the bench tightly.

“But you do it anyway.”

“I do,” you reply meekly.

“You can’t help yourself, can you?”

“I can't.”

“What happens when you finally reach all the way up?”

“Gotta touch myself.”

He puts his hands on his knees, making sure his voice stays leveled. “Where do you start?”

“Rubbing my clit.”

“Do it.”

And then you do. You truly can’t help it. Your fingers slide down your hips to the front of your heat, chilly fingers pressing up against your lips over your underwear.

He hears the little sigh as you finally allow your finger to reach your clit in between.

“How does it feel?”

“My fingers are cold right now, so,” a quick breathy laugh leaves you, “ good, really good.” You rub your fingers in slow circles, but your hand and hips jerk, forcing you to speed up, but you try, try to not seem so pathetic to yourself as if there was any attempt at going back now.

His voice’s a slight strain as he asks, “And what do you think about?” He starts to rub his thighs, feeling his cock stir to the side of his jeans, making the material feel tighter than it truly was. His fingers trail closer, knuckles brushing against his erection. He’s pretending like he can stop himself too. “What does he do in your head, sweetheart?”

“He watches,” you say as your movements speed up again. You really can’t help it now, his voice edges you on. Your hand goes under the band of your underwear, fingers collecting wetness below to bring up to your clit, “He’s standing at the edge of the bed,” you tell him, “he’s unbuttoning his shirt, and then he starts taking off his belt… He’s smiling.”

If only you knew that hearing how bad you wanted him was making him do the same thing on the other side.

You’re panting now, one foot comes up to the bench as you slide yourself over to press your back into the corner of the wall, your head tilting back as well, using the assistance to grind into your hand. “He thinks I’m pretty.”

“That's cause are.” He’s lowered his pants now and takes his cock out from under his boxers. Your words make his mouth gape and his eyes close as he begins to stroke himself. “You really are.”

His smile fades as he bites down on his lip lightly. You’re so needy for him and so desperate to admit it. It makes him feel powerful. Almost God-like, despite you both starring as the other’s tempter. So sweet and sinful the sounds you’re making are. How could he not give in? How could he not make you wet for him even at church and stroke his cock as it happens? You’re making it so easy with every whine and little moan you try to withhold. He could hear you getting restless, but he wants to make you want it more, “Keep goin’,” he tells you. “What’s happening now?”

“I put two fingers in,” you whine, “not big enough. Never enough.”

You let your two fingers stay inside you as you press your palm down on your pussy, rubbing your clit with the underside of your hand. You stop for a moment to take off your pants and underwear entirely, discarding it on the floor before you return to your spot. You put one leg up on the bench as you continue to finger yourself.

“I want him so bad.”

“How bad, sweetheart? What would you let him do?”

“Anything, Rick.” You say it louder than you intend, you’re losing yourself. “Anything for him.”

“Anything?”

“Everything.”

After that only nonsense comes out, simple sounds of desire and pleads. It was becoming too much to talk.

Rick felt the same. His hand on his shaft made quick and short movements, his lips parted and pink, more red on the bottom than the top from when bit his lip again at the words anything and everything for him. He repeated it in his mind, listening to your sweet little whines in the present. His head tilts so far back that it bangs on the wooden wall and he hisses.

It reminds him to compose himself.

Even after you let out another moan of his name, and he swears he could almost hear just how wet you are now, the squish of your fingers going in and out, louder and louder.

He swallows hard and takes a breath before he says, “What if I say I want you in here right now?”

That’s when your movements completely stop. You can hear the wind swirling again. You were speechless.

He turns to the netted window. You two can’t see each other but you know he’s looking. “C’mere.” He says slowly. “Now.”

And after that, your body takes control. Swift and instantaneous you move from your door to his, shutting it hard. You don’t even take a moment to look at him, it was too dark anyway, and that’s not what mattered. You’ve already dreamed of his curls, and the pierce of his blue eyes. You knew what he looked like. It’s time to know how he felt.

Rick takes off his shoes and fully lowers and discards his pants. Before he could even consider his shirt, you’re on top of him. You’re kissing his face, your lips and tongue missing his lips by just a little, but it doesn’t matter.

You begin to rock, your wet pussy making the length of his cock and thigh slick before it's even inside of you. You couldn’t help yourself and it makes him laugh, all cocky and proud. Something that you’d cross your arms to, even quip back at in any other situation but right now, it’s so fucking hot.

His hands latch onto your hips, his legs slide back to hit the wall. He raises your frame and you grab him. Your sticky fingers lace around his dick and then you both lower yourself down onto him.

You try to bottom out fast, but his nails dig into you, slowing you down. Your face reaches back with a pout and a whine as he says, “Wait,” even after he’s inside of you.

Your pussy quakes around him. You’re both trying to hold it together, but he’s faring much better than you.

His hand holds your jaw, thumbs caressing your cheeks and a tear falls from your eye, all the sensations becoming too much.

His eyes trail the sight as it rolls down and he tells you, “You’re right. I do think you’re beautiful.”

And he kisses you. Tongue slipping past your lips just as quickly as they depart, going to whisper in your ear: “Go on now,” he smiles, “show me everything.”

You begin to rock against him instantly. Initiating the kiss this time, your tongue slips into his mouth but his goes on top of yours. He grabs the back of your neck, deepening it, and you continue to take charge below as you ride him.

You squeeze around his cock tightly with every movement forward and you hear a strangled groan come out of him as his dick twitches at the sensation.

It makes you moan so loudly, you could wake somebody up.

But it doesn't matter.

You could even come right now just from feeling him inside you for the first time.

And it doesn’t matter.

“I've wanted you for so long, Rick!” You tell him.

He’s all that matters.

“You’ve got me.” He tells you breathlessly, kissing down your neck with his hand tugging on your hair. “You always could’ve.”

Now you know you’re all that matters too.

Your head tilts to the side, eyes closed, and mouth open for each pretty sigh and slight hiss that come out as he bites and kisses.

His hands lower to the hem of your shirt and he pulls it off. You start to undo the buttons on his too.

It’s fast and rushed and messy, but now your chests can meet. You press into him. Your hips are rocking hard. Your clit meets his pelvic bone making you whine and moan again. “Really good,” you say.

Rick’s hands slide to grab your ass, helping you go faster until they rise to your hips again. His thumbs press into the crevice of your hips and legs and he starts to bounce you on him.

You grip onto his arms, assisting him in his efforts. Your eyes are still closed, you’re smiling— already in a state of bliss, yet relishing in the fact that he was pushing you further and further into the dream-like feeling that was to come: your orgasm was close, and the string of airy moans made it evident to you both.

The way his hands move to caress your waist, trail up your back, roll over your arms, and back down again feels like gliding on ice. You felt him everywhere.

“Come on,” he tells you.

“I'm trying, I want to.”

“I know,” he affirms. He takes hold of your upper arms, letting his hands slide down to yours that tightly gripped his biceps and placed them on his shoulders.

You bounce yourself down on him harder, switching it up to rock on him and give your clit attention, then repeat it again.

Once you’re back to bouncing Rick takes one hand on your hip, helping you go faster while the other rubs your clit as vigorously as he can.

Your mouth is open wide, pants and squirms, and pleads coming out wildly. You almost feel like you’re making the whole box jump along with you as you bounce, and bounce, and bounce, and then… there it is: you shout his name and he speaks back to you, you both come together and ride out your high.

A glow emits as you smile, your head crashing into his as you catch your breath.

Then a noise erupts.

The church door closes.

Steps become louder and louder until they reach the open confession box door.

Rick puts his finger to your lips, silently quieting you both. Your eyes are owl wide knowing what the person in the next section would find in there. You almost squirm but Rick slots his finger into your mouth to stop it. “Quiet,” he mouths as the person next to you drops the wet garments they just touched, almost running out of the place as fast as they could.

You lower your face to his shoulder. Embarrassed, you sigh, “What are we gonna do now?”

Rick is unfazed: “Well,” he starts, picking you up by the hips, securing your legs as you wrap them around him, “we could do this one more time.”

He locks the church door and then walks you down the aisle and onto the podium, placing you gently on the ground. He’s standing above you. Just like it all your daydreams.

It was his turn now.

[traveler-at-heart]

Speak or die?

Summary: You have a crush on your poetry professor.

Professor Natasha Romanoff x F!R

Request by @jujuu23 :) Hope you like it

And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting

On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;

    And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon’s that is dreaming,

    And the lamp-light o’er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;

And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor

            Shall be lifted—nevermore!

Professor Romanoff closes the book, the classroom silent as she walks to the front. Her raspy voice had a way of enchanting people, and it almost felt like she had cast a spell on everyone.

“Thoughts?” she asks, adjusting her glasses. Her beautiful features are framed by a couple of strands of fiery hair, the rest of it tied in a messy bun.

A couple of people lean back on their seats, nervous about being called to participate.

“What a weirdo” Barnes says, and some of your classmates laugh.

“Thank you, for that very insightful analysis, Mr. Barnes. Any other thoughts you’d like to share with the class?”

Before he can speak again and say something even more stupid, you jump in.

“It’s about madness, caused by grief. About his beloved, who he’ll never forget but is gone. It’s the same theme in Annabel Lee and Lenore. Though I think Annabel Lee is a lot less haunting… there’s a certain serene beauty to it.”

“Very good, Miss Y/L/N. And of course, we have the references to Pallas Athena. Not uncommon for Allan Poe to mention Greek mythology. Your next assignment will be to find and discuss examples of mythology and classical literature within his work”

As everyone leaves the room, you walk next to the professor’s desk.

“I’ve enjoyed your essay. Well, both of them” she says.

“Both?” you stop, looking confused.

“It’s very obvious your boyfriend is not writing his papers” she tries to keep her composure, but finds it irritating that someone as bright as you is with Barnes of all people.

“Oh, Bucky? Yeah, I might have helped him a bit… not my boyfriend, though”

You think it’s best to leave out the fact he enrolled in this class to meet pretty girls and act like he knows about poetry.

“Well, he should still do his own homework” Natasha says, this time with a kinder tone. “And nice work today”

“Thank you” you nod, smiling as you leave the classroom. 

You hope Professor Romanoff didn’t notice the way you were blushing at her praise. 

—

Natasha glances at her cozy living room one last time. It’s a crisp autumn night, and she could still cancel her plans and stay home with a good book and a glass of wine.

But she’d never hear the end of it, would she?

The woman takes a cab to the gallery downtown, hoping the evening ends early and she can at least read a chapter or two of her novel before bed.

As she enters the crowded space, Natasha feels the need to turn around and leave. Carol’s voice stops her.

“Fancy meeting you here”

“Yelena made me do it” the redhead explains, standing next to her colleague and friend.

“Well, she’s quite the artist. You should be proud of your sister” Carol says, looking around the room until she finds the younger woman. Natasha nods her thanks and walks to her sister, smiling.

“You made it!” Yelena, who was explainig her sculpture to a man, stops mid sentence and hugs Natasha. “I thought you’d find a way to stay home and avoid being out”

“I promised I’d be here. Go. I’ll have a look around” Natasha says when another woman walks up to Yelena.

“Try the appetizers, they’re really good!” Yelena says before going up to meet a group of art dealers.

It’s a big night for the Art Department. They have been planning this exhibit for months now. Plenty of critics and art dealers would stop by, hoping to find the next big name.

Natasha walks around, eyeing the paintings and sculptures in the room. Distracted by a very abstract work, she fails to notice another person walking behind her until her back collides with a shoulder.

“Sorry” she turns, surprised at meeting your eyes and friendly smile.

“Hi, Professor Romanoff” you greet. “How are you liking the exhibit?” 

“It’s good. What are you doing here?”

“College paper business. And to support my roommate, Wanda” you point at a couple of paintings, with very dark themes and distorted faces. “She’s uh… going through her misunderstood artist phase” 

“Well, she’s certainly committed to it” Natasha says, looking at the girl who must be Wanda, dark hair and smokey eyes giving her a grunge look.

“She’s a sweetheart” you promise, knowing that’s only one side of her. You’ve seen her cry over The Dick Van Dyke show, for heaven’s sake. Though you promised you’d never tell anyone. “Want to be on the record for me?”

“How so?”

“Just tell me what you think of the exhibit. Or the department in general” you shrug your shoulders. “It’s good that other faculty members are here”

“Well, I’ve known Carol for years, back when we were both students. She’s very committed to her work and advancing the curriculum, so it’s great to see an amazing selection tonight. My sister seems to think a great deal of the success is due to Danvers”

“Your sister?”

“Yelena Belova” Natasha clarifies. At hearing that name, you blush and she immediately assumes that something happened between you two. 

The reality is, you’ve spoken about how much you love your poetry professor in front of Yelena on more than one occasion. Now you understand why she laughed so hard when you said Natasha was Aphrodite reincarnate.

That little shit.

“Yeah, I know Yel. Wanda and her hang at the dorm, I mean, we all do” you trip over your words, picking up a glass of red wine to ease your nerves.

“You sure you can handle that?” Natasha asks, appreciating the way your cheeks blush at the taste of the alcohol.

“It’s fine” you lick your lips, missing the way Natasha follows the movement with her eyes.

“Well, it’s nice to know Yelena has someone with common sense to keep her grounded” Natasha says and inspite of your internal struggle, you smile.

In that moment, Carol clinks her glass gently, getting everyone’s attention. As she speaks, you try to listen to her words -the toast should be mentioned in the article- but your mind is focused on Natasha’s parfum, and the warmth of her body as she stands next to you. Once Danvers is done, everyone claps and you take a breath, thinking it might be a good idea to get some fresh air.

“Sestra, there you are” Yelena walks up to you two, a knowing smirk at your affected state. “I’d introduce you but I believe you already know each other”

“Yeah” you smile, looking anywhere but Natasha. “I’ll leave you to it, gotta talk to a couple more people. Enjoy your evening”

Yelena doesn’t move, so you’re forced to walk very close to Natasha, and the moment your eyes meet you almost forget how to breathe.

The redhead doesn’t miss the way your pupils are blown or the not so subtle way in which you glance at her lips.

She wants to reach out and grab your wrist, turn you around and devour your lips in a messy kiss. Instead, she sees you walk towards your friend.

“See? Aren’t you glad I made you come out of your cave?”

Apparently, your crush wasn’t one sided after all. 

—

The school paper. Natasha barely paid attention to it, even when it was delivered every Monday to her office, same as every faculty member at Lang University. 

This time, she is eager to open it and read your article. There it is, your name and a very long piece about the exhibit. Your prose is exquisite, and you didn’t just deliver an event summary; it’s a deep dive into the department, budget cuts and how students and professors are investing their own resources to keep the course alive.

Right under the dean’s nose. Natasha has to smile; it’s true that Howard Stark was more inclined to favor the Science department and a number of protests had gone unanswered on his side. Most of them came from tenured professors, as part time teachers and students were concerned with some sort of retaliation.

Not you, though.

Natasha is so focused on the article that she misses the knock on her door until Fury comes in.

“Romanoff” he greets. “Picking up on some light reading?”

“Something very entertaining” she turns the pages to show your article and he chuckles.

“She’s got balls” he recognises. “Heard she was talking about it with some art dealers who donate to the university. Apparently Stark is listening now”

“I’m happy to hear that”

“That’s not why I’m here, though” Fury sits down, crossing his legs. “The Foster Grant”

“What about it?” Natasha says, playing dumb. She hates to be the center of attention. “I know I got it, it’s no big deal”

“It is to the department. We don’t want to be the next on the list of budget cuts”

“Maybe we’ll just have to ask Y/N to write an article for us” she jokes, but Fury just smirks knowingly.

“Great idea! Let’s have her write something about your work and the research you’ve been doing” he slaps his knee, standing up. 

“What?”

“Well, don’t look at me like that, it was your idea, Romanoff. Better be this week so it’s on next Monday’s edition” he winks, leaving her office whistling.

As usual, Natasha is blindsided by her boss. How on Earth will she manage a conversation alone with you?

Still, Fury leaves no room for argument, and at the end of Tuesday’s class, you approach her desk.

“I was told you had an assignment for me” you say, biting your lip nervously.

“Yes, that’s right. Something about a research grant, it’s really not a big deal. Sorry that Fury put you up to it” she dismisses the thing like it’s a nuissance.

“I don’t mind at all. Just wanted to check if… when do you want to meet. And where. It would be better around Thursday so I can come prepared with questions and then write everything over the weekend. But I’ll adjust to your schedule” 

“Thursday is fine by me” Natasha nods. “My office? Last class is at 5, so maybe 6”

“Yeah, sounds good” you nod, blushing. “See you then, professor”

How will you survive this?

—

Thursday comes faster than you’d like, and you’re inspecting your wardrobe as if you’re going on a first date. 

Everythig’s too ugly. Why do you have such ugly clothes? 

Ugh, I should just cancel. 

In the end, you opt for a preppy look, with a black skirt and thights, choosing a black and white stripped sweater for the cold weather.

You run into Yelena and Wanda in the living room.

“Where are you going so fancy?” the blonde says, whistling and forcing you to twirl so she can have a 360 of your outfit. “You’re going on a date, aren’t you?”

Wanda, who actually knows about your appointment, covers her mouth to keep from laughing and you glare at her.

“Don’t”

“What? Is it someone I know?” Yelena looks between the two of you.

“Yes. It’s your sister” Wanda finally cracks. 

“It’s not a date!” you rush to say when Yelena turns to look at you. “I’m writing an article about her research”

“Mmm, right” she nods, not believing you. “She asked about you the other day, you know?”

“She did? I mean, what did she want to know?” you try to pretend it’s no big deal.

“She asked if we hooked up. I told her you’re not my type”

“Oh, please. I’m everyone’s type” you huff, picking up your bag before you run late. You still want to stop by the cafeteria.

“You’re certainly Natasha’s” Yelena mumbles, but you miss it. “Good luck on your non date with my sister”

“Not a date… although, what’s her coffee order?” 

“I’ll tell you if you admit it’s a date”

By the time you finally get Yelena to answer, you’re ten minutes late, walking around campus with two coffees and cookies. Knocking with your elbow, you hear a soft come in and figure out how to open the door. 

Juggling everything, you walk into Natasha’s office.

“Let me help you” the woman says, standing up and rushing to your side. You hand over the cup with her name. “For me?”

“Yes”

“Thank you. I’m sorry, I should be the one with a drink to offer. How did you know?” she licks her lips, appreciating the sweet flavor of the caramel macchiato. Her glasses fog from the warmth of the drink and you have to resist the urge to kiss her.

“I asked Yelena” you admit. “Glad to know she wasn’t pranking me” 

“I do have a sweet tooth”

“No worries, I won’t write anything about it” you take a notepad and your phone to record. “May I?”

“Please” Natasha settles behind her desk, appreciating that cute little frown that always appears when you’re focused. You go over your notes for a minute and then nod, ready to begin.

The hour goes by quickly, and Natasha feels proud when she notices you’ve stopped taking notes, genuinely interested and asking about everything she’s been researching for the past year and a half.

“Oh, it’s getting late. I’m so sorry for keeping you here” you apologize, looking at the time. 

“That’s ok, I’m free for the rest of the evening. I cleared my schedule just for you”

The words make your heart flutter. Of course she doesn’t mean anything by it, but how you wished she did.

“So, do you have time for a couple more questions?”

“Sure” 

For you, she has all the time in the world. Natasha could spend all night watching you put that lose strand of hair behind your ear, while you write down your thoughts. 

It’s dangerously endearing.

“I’d like to know… your favorite poem” you ask, more for yourself than for the article.

Natasha takes a deep breath, standing up and walking around her desk. She speaks as she approaches you, in that soft, tender tone that always makes your heart skip a beat.

“I loved you; even now I may confess,

Some embers of my love their fire retain;

But do not let it cause you more distress,

I do not want to sadden you again.

Hopeless and tongue-tied, yet I loved you dearly

With pangs the jealous and the timid know;

So tenderly I loved you, so sincerely,

I pray God grant another love you so”

Natasha looks into your eyes as she sits on the edge of the desk, mere inches away from you. 

In truth, you had expected her to answer with the poem’s title, not recite it to you so passionately.

“Pushkin” you sigh, looking at your hands.

“Very good” she praises, which makes you blush even harder. “It sounds better in Russian, though”

“I can imagine” you say, torn between wanting to hear it or not. You might lose your last sliver of self control if she speaks her native language.

“Is there anything else you need from me?”

You need to kiss her, discover how her lips feel against yours. Hold her hand, guide her up your skirt…

“Yes. I… mean, no, I have everything I need, professor” you snap out of your thoughts, looking flustered. “Thank you so much for making the time to speak to me”

“I always have time for my best student” she says, standing up and walking you to the door. “I’m looking forward to reading your article”

“I’ll try to live up to the expectations”

“I’m sure you will” she says gently, leaning against the threshold of the door. You look at her lips one last time before stepping back, wishing the evening could be prolonged.

Natasha watches you walk away, already missing your presence.

—

You spend the weekend reliving the interview. Thank God you kept recording when Natasha recited Pushkin, because now you have it for posterity.

The article is done, has been since you got back to your dorm. The words flowed effortlessly as you remembered everything Natasha said, and so you spent all night writing and correcting it until it was perfect. Even your editor was impressed when you sent it over.

Now, all that’s left is you, the recording and the view from your window. You listen to Natasha over and over again, hoping her presence migh somehow slip into your subconscious and then, she’ll be in your dreams as well.

As if you had summoned her, Natasha appears outside your window, walking with Yelena. As her sister walks into your building to meet with Wanda, Natasha looks up, waving at you. You remove your headphones, blushing at the fact that you were just listening to her speak on the recording.

“How’s the article coming along?”

“Signed, sealed, delivered” you smile. “I do hope you’ll like it”

“It will be the first thing I read tomorrow” she promises, saying goodbye. This time, you don’t bother to hide the fact that you’re staring as she leaves, and a little part of you feels like Juliet, watching Romeo walk away.

Forbidden love.

No, not forbidden. Unrequited.

With a sigh, you walk away and join your friends, thinking it’s better to distract yourself now that you remember Natasha Professor Romanoff is out of your reach.

Still, you can only fall asleep as you listen to her reciting that poem over and over again. And when you wake up, the resolve to see her again overcomes every fiber of your being. 

So you walk up to her office, knowing very well she’s there at break of dawn.

“Y/N” she says, looking at the paper in your hands. “Come in”

“I thought you’d like to read it. But maybe you’re busy. And you won’t like it or it’s not a big deal to you” you rant, handing it over and turning to leave. “Never mind”

“Stay” is all she says, hand reaching for your wrist. Your heart skips a beat at the contact and you nod, trying to ease your nerves. 

Natasha sits on her small sofa to read the article, and you’re too anxious so you walk around her office, examining the bookshelves. As you approach her desk, you focus on an open book, some notes scribbled along the margins.

“I love it” Natasha says, standing right behind you. You jump, so absorbed by the book that you didn’t hear her stand up and come close to you. She’s now reading over your shoulder. “It’s the Heptameron, by Marguerite de Navarre. I was working on a translation from the German edition”

You can now see the sheet of paper next to the page, Natasha’s writing looking rushed as if she fears the words will be taken by the wind. With a shaky voice, you break the sudden silence in the room, reading the story.

“A handsome young knight is madly in love with a princess

And she too is in love with him

Though she seems not to be entirely aware of it

Despite the friendship that blossoms between them or

Perhaps because of that very friendship

The young knight finds himself

So humbled and speechless

That he's totally unable to bring up the subject of his love

Till one day he asks the princess point blank

Is it better to speak or to die?”

“I found myself thinking a lot about unrequited love this weekend. And so I remembered this little thing” she says in a low voice. “What do you think is better? Speak or die?”

“I think that depends, Professor” you sigh, feeling her hand against your lower back.

“Depends… on what?” she whispers against your ear, making you shiver. “Should I speak about all the times I think of you, of how endearing and wonderful and intriguing you are to me?”

You turn around, cornered against her desk. Natasha’s hands traces a path down your arm, and takes your hand, lifting it to her lips. Your eyes follow the movement, and a sigh leaves your lips at the soft kiss she places on the back of your hand.

“Should I speak about how I wonder what it would be like to kiss you, taste you, mark you, until you’re chanting my name like a prayer?”

This time, her hand travels to your lips, pupils dilating as you allow her to invade your mouth with her finger, sucking gently until she retrieves it, pulling you by the waist.

“Should I speak, then? Or shall we keep pretending neither one of us wants this?” she whispers against your lips. You close your eyes, taking a breath to steady your heart. Her touch, her words, is all too much and you’re afraid it’s all a perfect dream, and at any moment you’ll wake up, alone and desperate for her.

“Please…” you say, leaning forward and capturing her lips in a messy, frantic kiss. Dream or reality, you’ll take Natasha in whatever way you can.

Natasha craddles your face in her hands, spreading your legs apart with her knee. You whine incoherently at her surprising strenght, your hands balled up in fists around the fabric of her pristine shirt. 

“You’re so perfect” she sighs against your lips. “So beautiful”

“Natasha” you plead, wanting to feel her against you, closer, harder. More, more, more until you’re on the brink of destruction and she’s all that exists.

“I want you. Do you want me?” she asks, and you catch the uncertainty in her tone.

“Of course I do” 

If only she could feel how wet you are, all because of her touch.

But there’s a knock on the door, and you both look at the spot, alarmed. Natasha squeezes your hand to reassure you.

“Yes?”

“Just delivering the paper, Professor”

“Leave it outside, I’ll pick it up in a minute. Thank you”

You take a moment to breathe and fix your hair, aware that your lips are swollen from all the kissing.

You kissed your professor. Natasha Romanoff kissed you.

“Are you ok?” she asks, worried about your sudden silence.

“Just wondering if I’m about to wake up from a beautiful dream” you admit, and she smiles.

“Do you dream of me?” she teases, her hand reaching for yours.

“Only when I’m awake”

Natasha smiles, kissing your fingers.

“Would you like to have dinner with me? My place. This Friday”

“Yes. I’d love to”

There’s another knock on the door, but Fury doesn’t wait for Natasha to answer. You jump away from the woman, unsure if this could get her into trouble.

Luckily, Fury is busy inspecting the paper that was dropped outside of Natasha’s office and he doesn’t pick up on anything as he looks up.

“Miss Y/L/N. You wrote an amazing article. Brilliant”

“Thank you, Doctor Fury” you say. “I should head out, my Sociology class is starting soon”

Natasha smiles at you, hoping you understand how much she wishes you could carry on.

But the promise of more lingers in her eyes and so, as you take one last look at her, you return her smile.

“I’m happy the knight spoke, Professor. See you in class” 

“See you in class, Miss Y/L/N”

[froggiewrites]

May I request some Luffy smut? Maybe including some aphrodisiac of some kind or influence from a devil fruit- I don't mind! I'd just love to see your ideas

I am SO sorry this has taken so long, thank you to everyone who's sent in requests for being so patient. Life has been kicking my ass this month so badly I haven't even been able to read any fanfic, let alone write it. Fingers crossed that the end of November is kinder than the beginning!

I'm really excited to have finally finished this request, I'm a big sucker for sex pollen/aphrodisiac stuff so this was really fun for me! Also, this was my first time writing for Luffy, so I hope I did him justice!

Need

Pairing: Luffy x Reader

NSFW

Summary: You find your Captain in dire need of a little help. What kind of friend would you be if you didn't provide? Warnings: Smut, Sex Pollen/Aphrodisiac, Oral Sex (Reader receiving), Vaginal Sex Word Count: 1.8k

You should have known something was wrong when the ship was quiet. The Thousand Sunny is never quiet. There’s always the sound of clashing metal, of excited voices, of a song dancing its way across the deck. But you don’t hear a single noise outside of your door, nor do you see anyone as you pad your way outside. 

You knew that you were docking soon, that your crew would leave to explore the island, but you didn’t expect them to leave without waking you up. You had been on night watch last night, so you certainly needed the rest, but you’re not used to them not at least momentarily waking you to let you know where everyone’s going.

Your surprise and confusion only grows as you hear someone crashing through the brush, and you see your Captain emerge, sprinting precariously toward the ship as though he’s being chased.

“Luffy?”

He doesn’t answer as he continues to rush forward, launching himself up onto the Sunny. Luffy stumbles onto the deck, teetering dangerously towards the railing. Before you can rush to catch him, his back hits the wood, and he lowers himself to the ground, legs splayed out. You can’t even tell if he can see you until he murmurs your name. He’s dripping with sweat, his face red.

You kneel down between his legs, leaning forward to try to get a good look at him. You can’t see any visible injuries, but clearly something is horribly wrong. “Are you okay, Luff?”

“No.” His voice is nothing but a whine, his eyes glassy and unfocused. “Need…something.”

“Something?”

Luffy glances around, pout on his face. “Something. Dunno what.”

You reach out to rest your hand on his forehead, which is burning so hot you almost pull it back in shock. He leans into your touch, giving off a soft hum. “You have a fever. Do you know what happened to you?”

“Nothing happened. We were all exploring, and we split into groups, and then…hm…I ate that fruit Zoro picked.”

Oh god. Zoro’s not exactly a botanist, or a survivalist, and for a single moment you believe with every fiber of your being that your dear friend has accidentally poisoned your captain. “What kind of fruit was it?”

“I dunno. It was sweet. And red.”

You sigh. “That doesn’t narrow it down at all. God, you would think that eating one mystery fruit in your life would be enough for you.”

His indignation beats out his discomfort for just a moment. “The first one went really well.”

You guess you can’t argue with that. “Can you remember anything else about it? We can rule out any devil fruit since you haven’t…exploded.”

“It was warm. And it made me wanna come find you.”

That makes you pause. “It…made you want to find me? Like specifically me?”

“Yeah.”

You have a bad feeling about this. “Do you know why you wanted me?”

He squints in concentration. “To…make it better.”

“How?”

He grabs your hand and places it back on his face. The sound he makes is borderline erotic. “Like this. This helps.”

The warmth against your hand, the moan that escapes your captain, the tent you can see growing in his pants, it all starts painting a very troubling picture. A very tempting one, but troubling nonetheless. “Luffy, are you warm anywhere in particular?”

“My stomach. And lower.” He pulls you closer, wrapping an arm around you and burying his face in your neck. His nose nuzzles against you, and he takes a deep breath, inhaling your scent and sighing. His hands gently massage against your hips, reveling in the feeling of your skin beneath his fingertips. “You’re soft,” he murmurs, lips brushing lightly against you. You clench your thighs involuntarily, a move you hope he doesn’t notice.

“You’re—ahh!” One of his hands moves up to your breast, squeezing your breast through your shirt, and he moans again at your squeak. “You’re not in your right mind, Luffy! I think that fruit was—ah!” His hand slides beneath your shirt, then your bra, and finally he pinches your nipple. 

“Come closer.” His voice is thick as he pulls you onto his lap. “I think this is fixing it. Feels nice.” He jerks his hips, and you can feel his hardness rub against you. You try to keep your moan inside of your mouth, but when you do, he huffs, and ruts into you harder.

“Luffy!”

He grins. “That’s better.” As his hand begins to slide down the front of your pants you finally come to your senses and grab it, stopping him in his tracks. He blinks at you, a little clarity coming back to his eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“You–you’re clearly under the influence of something, and I don’t want to make you do anything you don’t want–”

“I want it.” The hand slides slowly down further. His voice grows hungrier, more desperate. “I need it.”

With the way he’s looking at you, pupils blown out and cheeks flushed, you believe him.

“Well if you really need it, I’d hate to deprive you, Captain.”

He grins, and before you know it, you’re pinned to the deck, your shirt and bra removed, Luffy’s teeth pressing insistently against your chest. He shoves his hand unceremoniously between your legs, making a small noise of satisfaction against you when you squeal. His fingers slide against your clothed clit, sending a shiver up your spine and slowly building the heat in your gut. He hums quietly, “It’s wet.” He looks up at you. “For me?”

You flush, before nodding quickly. You can’t bring yourself to look at him out of fear you’ll combust. You can see the sweat sliding down the muscles in his arms and chest, his tongue peeking out of his mouth as he pants. He looks even better than you’d ever dreamed, his eyes radiating a hunger than you never expected to be directed at you.

He quickly slides down your pants and underwear in a single motion, and in your surprise you press your thighs together, shielding yourself from him. He practically growls, “Stop that. Wanna taste.”

He pries your thighs apart, diving into you with the same enthusiasm he does everything else. His tongue laps at you with reckless abandon as he sloppily takes everything you’ll give him. His hands pull you impossibly closer, his nose brushing against your clit as his mouth explores. When you moan, he laughs against you, the rumble of it spreading across your sensitive skin and making your thighs tense around his head. You worry you’ll suffocate him, drown him, but he doesn’t seem to mind losing to you.

You can feel the tension building in your body, your legs shaking as you come closer and closer to your peak. Your hands grip the grass beneath you, one second away from ripping it out of the deck entirely. Some part of you is hyper aware of the fact you are out in the open, where anybody could see or hear, but the rest of you is lost in the pleasure of the moment, in the feeling of your Captain’s tongue against you. So you don’t try to stop your back from arching as your climax grows nearer, nor do you make any attempt to hold back your cry as you cum on your Captain’s face.

He pulls away from you, his face dripping, his pupils blown out, and his lips upturned into a dazed smile. You can’t bring yourself to look away as he slowly licks his lips, savoring every drop of you. Without a word, his mouth crashes into yours, and you can taste yourself on his lips. His hands roughly force down his pants, exposing his weeping cock to the cold air. He lets out a borderline whimper of relief against your lips, before pulling back just long enough to whisper, “Get ready.”

“Lu–ah!” He thrusts into you in one smooth stroke as his lips once again insistently press against yours, stealing your breath away. You can feel every inch of him as your body welcomes him in, clenching around his length. He moans into your mouth, the sound deep and wanton. He gives both of you little time to adjust before his hips are rocking, chasing the release he’s been so desperate for. He’s moving so quickly you’re surprised he was patient enough to even wait this long. His hands are borderline bruising on your hips, his teeth clacking against yours as your kiss grows rougher and rougher, as your dear friend and Captain pounds into you with the fervor of an animal in heat. 

You can feel his muscles tense under your fingers as you pull him tighter. His breaths grow more ragged with every moment, and as he finally pulls away from your kiss you get to see the beautiful sight of the dam breaking as Luffy finally cums. His face is filled with a mix of relief, exhaustion, and affection as he gives a final few thrusts, your own climax coming not soon after. He collapses on top of you, and the weight is more comforting than crushing, though it steals your breath away anyway.

“I was right.” His voice is sleepy and slow, and you can’t help but picture the faces of your friends as they find you stripped bare and pinned to the deck below your Captain. Sanji might have a breakdown.

“Right about what?”

“I needed you. You fixed it.” His hand comes to rest on the back of your head affectionately, and he places a comically loud smooch on your forehead.

“So you’re all cured?”

“Ye–” He hums, and you can see an idea take him as his face scrunches up and his eyes shift away. “No. I think we’ll need to do this again.”

You can’t keep the smile out of your voice as you respond. “Oh yeah? How many more times, do you think?”

“I dunno. A lot. It could take a while.”

You laugh. “You know, I think we can do this as many times as it takes.”

He lets out an overjoyed laugh. “Awesome!”

“But first we should get inside before anyone else gets back. I don’t really want them to see me like this.”

He nods, quickly scooping you up and carrying you in the direction of his cabin. Before you can say anything else, you hear the voices of your crew coming closer, and you quietly urge him to rush.

You only get a moment of relief before you hear Zoro’s confused voice.

“Whose clothes are these?”

Your panic is quickly overshadowed by Luffy’s booming laugh rumbling through his chest, spreading the same infectious joy that he always does. The embarrassment is worth it, just to hear such a wonderful sound.

Tag List:  @pandora-writes-one-piece @shy-writer-999 @saturogojosgirl @dreamcastgirl99 @tochillwithamockingjay

[madwomansapologist]

Hello!!! I was wondering if you could write headcannons of the BG3 companions and a dragon bloodline sorcerer tav? Especially their reactions to their more dragon like tendencies like hoarding things or their wings when they level up (draconic sorcerers get wings at lvl 14 table top and 11 in bg3 ) that would be great ❤️

bg3 companions with a draconic sorcerer!tav

Navigation | More Weirdos | AO3

synopsis: How would they react to their leader as a draconic sorcerer?

warnings: austim be danmed my girl can study about dragons (lae'zel).

note: that made me want to play as a draconic in the future. thanks for your request, i hope you like it!

Lae'zel

You got her attention immediately. All other races are as alien to a githyanki as themselfs are for those across Faêrun, but she knew a lot about draconics still. A interest of hers that she wasn't able of shutting down, don't matter how efficient and practical she achieved to be.

She always had a soft spot for dragons. A gith can't waste its time dreaming, but who can control it? She wanted so bad to be a dragon rider. When she learned there were races of people who descended from dragons, it was only natural she would want to learn about them.

Upon meeting you, part of her brain was just trying to analize. To learn from what type of dragon you descended. Her interest on you was purely academic.

She wondered if you had noticed how possessive you are. Lae'zel knows you're one of the most selfless people she ever met, the amount of times you lose something so someone could be safe... and still, you are so possessive.

You would kill Cazador with your bare hands and bring Astarion his head, but would never let him use one of your necklaces. Once she heard you hissing because he touched your things.

Exploring Baldur's Gate, everyone got stronger. When your wings evolved, Lae'zel seemed allured by them. So intricate and strong. Beautiful. A sign of your effort and talent. You deserved them.

"Just another proof of your strenght, zhak vo'n'ash duj. Our enemies will tremble before you. I already do."

Shadowheart

Something about you felt... familiar. Like she already knew you. Maybe she did. Or perhaps it was someone familiar. Maybe it was just the highs from being saved from a nautiloid. Still, Shadowheart couldn't help but to take a liking to you.

She never had a draconid friend, not that she remember at least, so it took her a bit to get used to the differences. It's impossible not to bring attention upon your group with your height and wide body. The teeth were certainly something she was highly aware.

Shadowheart thought it was enduring how you would always ended with the party's gold on your pockets. You say you will deal with the finances, and you really do that and do it well, but she knows mostly it's because you need to have it near you.

When your wings were strong enough, she would always find an excuse to hug you. It was so warm to feel your wings around her body. Shadowheart feels so save between your arms. So at peace.

"Before you I thought I knew what true embrace felt like. I was wrong. Thank you, my sweetest lover. For opening my eyes."

Astarion

Your size was intimidating. You could be an awful obstacle for his safety, but gladly you were kinder than Astarion could expect. You were way more than Astarion could ever expect.

After a while, it was interesting to learn more about you. So wide, and still so delicate. So scary, and yet so good. So moral, and yet so capable of violence.

For a draconic, it was a bit cliche that your go-to spells were fire ones. And he made sure to tell you that.

Once Astarion saw your wings, for some reason Astarion felt... proud. It just felt right for you to be rewarded after everything you did to them. To him. And it also made you look even more alluring.

"Another fireball, darling? Really? In this tiny room? Alright. Whatever feels right to you."

Gale

It was incrible to have another magic bender in the party! There are a few differences in styles and in the path you both want to go down, but at the end you both share the same goal.

Either as a student or as a natural vessel, the weave conects you both. It feels lovely to have someone who can see how the entire world moves because of it. To have someone to go for when doubts about new spells pop up, or that understands that he can't spend a long time in the battle field. Someone that just understands.

Gale was so curious about the limits of your body. Merely academic curiosity! He meet a few draconics before, but never he spend such a long time beside one.

It was mesmerizing to see you sleep in a nest. Not really one, but basically a nest. Everything looks so comfortable. So you. The best blankets, your favorite jewels, some gold.

Gale Dekarios is a student before all. And you quickly became his favorite subject.

"Don't they make you trip, my love? Ah, I see, your body was made for those, dare I say, beautiful pair of wings. If you ever feel the need to rest while you get used to them, just say the word."

Wyll

You weren't the first draconic Wyll befriended. Your race may be not so common in some parts of Faêrun, but he is not one to be surprised by your needs and habilities. Wyll is always ready to help you, don't matter what.

You need more space at camp, every armor needs to be wide enough to fit your wings, swords can't be tiny so your handle turns weak. Wyll is just waiting for you to need him so he may act.

The hoarding turned into a problem so quickly. Every damn thing "could be necessary". Forks? Rotten watermelons? Half-eaten apples??? And don't you try to say those are culture differences. Those are problems.

Once someone aimed at your wings during a fight. You barely were able to see the energy rays before their body burned to ashes.

"The Blade stands at your side, dear one. My duty is with your safety."

Karlach

Our girl on fire saw more dangerous things than a dragon's bloodline. Still, it was good to see a good fighter. She has the muscles, and you the brains. A perfect duo, one could say.

She thought was sweet your tendencies. How you wrap your tail around your companions that are being threatened. Or how the glow of jewels can make you break your neck just for a glance.

Karlach loves the fact you are also build bigher, just like her. It's good to not have to look down at someone, or to not break her back in a attempt to be at the same high as you.

She got so scared when your wings evolved. She didn't knew it was something that could happen to draconics that turned really strong. For a whole minute, she thought you went through some sort of body horror kinda of shit. She knows a lot about it, so it was really good to hear your explanation.

"Fucking gods, soldier! You almost lost me there. Thought my heart would fucking explode."

if you enjoyed, please reblog! i promise it makes a difference ♡

GENERAL TAGLIST: @lovelyy-moonlight

BALDUR’S GATE 3 TAGLIST: @citrusbunnies

@ madwomansapologist.tumblr.

[bunnwich]

A bit of controversial post maybe??? (feel free to skip)

Not to be controversial but I keep seeing how ppl are reading the “Leona is kind to Sally” situation and just thinking how my perspective is bit…different.  (if you don't care about my opinion ofc you can always skip)

SPOILERS FOR EVENT

When I saw it, these were my thoughts:

"Oh I love this so much!! It's adorable for one, and I’ve been saying for years that Leona is only mean to ppl he doesn't like/finds annoying or doesn’t care about. Like he HAS the ability, like everyone else to be polite and nice but we only see him interact with ppl who annoy him etc. Which is...um most of the cast. AND we rarely get a peak at how he would be with someone he likes.

I hope that this helps ppl see that he can be gentler to act toward someone he's SUPPOSED to like as a friend or even like romantically. 

Banter is one thing but I don’t believe he'd ever act straight-up rude to someone he was true friends with, dating or had a crush on?" 

So, a lot of ppl loved this scene I DO TOO! However…

This whole “Leona said men ain’t shit” joke is worrisome. Like…do you guys think that Leona would in fact be ruder or less gentle to a masc or nonbinary S/O vs a femme one? Some of these remarks…feel uh not really nice to those who have nonbinary/masc pairing with him.

He grew up in a matriarchal society, he respects women NO DOUBT.

I just think it would be nice to for us to be kinder in how we phrase things like this. I know they are jokes but still Yumes and ships mean a lot to ppl and I think it's just another catalyst for masc and masc-leaning fans to feel further alienated in the fandom space, yk?

Do I believe he respects women OFC, but much like those who had the “consent king” take about the voiceline of him being offended at Scully kissing the MC's hand I ONLY agree to an extent. WHY? Bc Leona is a big-ass hypocrite! Leona, for all I defend him, is not always keen on physical boundaries himself and can be quite rude. I think that line is more him being annoyed at Scully than genuinely worried for anyone's virtue, yk?

And to bring it back to the Sally/Leona thing I think it's not just bc Sally is a woman he is nice to her, bc she is SMART and cunning and was quickly underestimated by the rest of the cast. She was able take care of herself. He liked that about her. I really don't think it was just cause she was girl by itself.

Idk thats all I have to say, this is just my opinion as usual but it just didn’t sit right with me from a fandom perspective and I genuinely feel the “Leona is the feminist king of all time” is not a full reading of the character when we’ve seen him be nice to others and neutral to other women. Plus, he’s IS a hypocrite about the manners thing! The cast even call him out on it.

Leona is still flawed just like any other character in twst and I don't think him “bowing down at every women's feet” is something I subscribe to. Not in the way some ppl are acting anyways.

And frankly how some ppl are wording themselves in their tags and reblogs of these posts about Leona “drinking respect women’s juice bc he dislikes men” feels alienating toward those who have nonbinary/masc ships with him.

This is meant as no offense to anyone's fun I just thought I’d give my perspective on it. 

TLDR: I do think that it is genuinely funny and endearing to see the juxtaposition of how Leona treats everyone else VS Sally HOWEVER I don't think it is purely a gender thing and making that just doesn't sit right with me.

[thelostmagicians]

Unlucky | Lip Gallagher

Summary: Lip Gallagher has a shitty life, but he still has a chance of a happy future with you. [2.4k]

Fluff, comfort, slight angst, insecure Lip

♡

Lip Gallagher has always considered himself unlucky for as long as he could remember. If you asked him to describe his life in five words he’d use shitty, really shitty, and extremely shitty.  

He was dealt a crappy hand since the beginning not standing a fighting chance even as a kid. 

There was always so much crap to deal with, whether it was bills that needed to be paid, kids that need to be taken care of, or anything dealing with Frank and Monica, sometimes he felt as if the weight of the world was resting on his chest and the only breath he’d be able to take peacefully would be his final one. He’s grateful for all the help he has because everyone pulls their weight as much as they can, but sometimes he just wishes life was just a little bit kinder to him. He wishes that he was able to do something with his high IQ, make something of himself and finally get out of this hell hole, but that didn’t roll over so well. But just as he was slowly losing hope the universe finally took pity on him and gave him you, so now he’s hanging onto you with everything he’s got. 

_

It’s quiet in the Gallagher household when Lip shuffles out of bed. He can’t remember the last time he was able to sleep past 7am, so when he wakes up to birds chirping at 9am instead of the usual yelling and chaos, he’s surprised and even a little scared. He makes his way towards the bathroom getting ready to fight whoever is next in line, but finds it empty and even clean. He’s shuffling around, looking through doors to find a sense of life in his otherwise loud home when he hears a squeal from the backyard. He doesn’t think twice before grabbing a nearby bat and hurtling through the backdoor towards the pool, but he stops once he sees the atmosphere is anything, but fearful. Frannie is being tossed back and forth between Carl and Mickey in the pool, Fiona and Ian are chasing Liam with the garden hose and Debbie is bringing in watered down lemonade from the kitchen. 

He has no idea what caused this change of pace, but he isn’t mad about it. Just as he’s about to make himself known, he feels a soft touch caressing his back. 

“Hey baby,” you whisper, brushing your lips against his neck. 

He turns his head at your sweet voice finally fully awakening his sleepy trance. Lip tugs you towards him by the belt loops of your, too short, cut off shorts and breathes into your neck. Hands slowly creeping down towards your ass to grab and pet, not socially acceptable in front of family, but he couldn’t care less. 

“Hi, sweetheart,” he rasps into the valley of your chest, slightly picking you up to hug you closer. “What’s going on out here?”

“Thought everyone could use a day off especially in this heat, so Debs and I planned a pool party. Wanna join me?”

He pulls back on slightly to finally get a look at your face, your eyes are kind and happy followed by a mischievous smile. 

“Sure, let me get my trunks on and I’ll be down soon.” You reward him with a soft peck on his chapped lips and an arm squeeze before moving out of his hold and grabbing some leftover toast. 

The day goes by without a hitch. Everyone enjoys the much deserved break filled with laughter, junk food, and only a few fights. You’re nearly on top of Lip as you cuddle as close as you can basking in the happiness before you get ready to go out. There are only a handful of days that you and Lip both get off at the same time, so any day given is taken as a golden opportunity to spend some time together, leaving your worries at home. You plant a small peck to Lip’s cheek before untangling yourself from his hold as he answers the ringing phone. 

You don’t hear much of the conversation, just faint hmms of acknowledgement as you're flying past rooms trying to get ready as fast as you can. You’re struggling with your heels as Lip comes over and steadies you, your smile meeting with his frown.

“Sweetheart, they called me in to cover someone else’s shift and you know I hate to do this, but they’re offering me time and half..” he trails off.

A quick look of disappointment flashes on your face, before you cover it up with a reassuring look. You’re disappointed, sure, but not at Lip. Never at Lip. Just the shitty circumstances that forces the both of you to work as much as you can just to make ends meet.  

“It’s okay, I get it. We can always reschedule, don’t worry about it.” You pull him in and hold on to his waist hoping to ease his guilt, but your efforts go to waste as his eyebrows stay furrowed and his frown deepens. 

“I’ll make it up to you, I swear it,” Lip murmurs against your lips before squeezing your arm and letting you go. 

You watch him leave, slowly pulling off your heels and plopping yourself on the old couch, sighing already missing Lip. Your eyes shift trying to think of things to do now that your night opened up, but your mind keeps drifting back to Lip. You had eaten dinner earlier with everyone, skipping out on dessert and opting to get your fill when you go out, but now that plans have changed you were now missing both your boyfriend and something sweet to nibble on.

You quickly change out of your clothes and put on a pair of old shorts before deciding to make a batch of brownies. Lip works hard and if you guys couldn’t go out for dessert tonight, then you were going to bring dessert to him. 

He’s halfway through his shift when he spots you coming in, hands holding a tupperware to your chest. 

“Honey, what are you doing down here,” he shouts from across the room.

“Wanted to spend some time with you before I leave for my shift. I made some brownies since we missed dessert, care to join me?” you plead hopefully.

Lip’s heart aches with love and a lot of guilt. He can’t believe you would go through all that trouble just to see him. He calls out to say he’s taking his break before leading you to a secluded corner. 

“I’m really sorry about today,” he hugs you from behind swaying back and forth, mouth opening occasionally as you feed him a chunk of the sweet treat. 

You squeeze his wrist in response, “s’lright you can’t help it. I just like spending time with you.”

He smiles softly for the first time that night, stress immediately leaving his body. “Though, I love that you did all this for me, I don’t love the idea that you were walking alone this late at night.”

“Guess I’ll have to keep you company until you can walk me home then,” you compromise. 

Lip’s shift goes by somewhat fast now that you’re here to keep him company. He’ll leave his station sporadically to check up on you and to keep you from falling asleep. He’s in the final stretch now, only 30 more minutes before you get to go home and fall asleep holding each other, after a long day. He looks over hoping to catch your eye and send you a smile when he feels his face slowly morphing into a glare. A glare aimed at the guy standing way too close to you, a guy whose intentions go beyond a friendly conversation, and a guy who on paper was everything you deserved, but Lip couldn’t be. 

You finally glance at Lip sending a small wave and smile as you keep nodding along to the fucker next to you. He had fluffy brown hair and honestly looked quite plain if it wasn’t for the gleaming rolex on his wrist and the shiny Gucci emblem on his belt. He was a rich kid, probably from the nearby university, wasting away mommy and daddy’s money, chatting up pretty girls and sweeping them off their feet with his money. Lip’s never felt insecure about your relationship, you never gave him a reason too, but once he compares his ratty jeans and stained shirt to the pristine polo of Richie Rich he can’t help but wonder if he’s good enough for you when you can do so much better.

_

Lip was struggling. He never learned how to tie a tie before and now that the time has come, he’s racking his brain trying to get the knot perfect. He knew you couldn’t care less about a stupid tie, you were anything but superficial, but since that dreaded night when he witnessed you being chatted up by Richie Rich, Lip’s come to the conclusion that he was going to try his hardest to give you the perfect life. 

When Lip proposed going up to the north side for dinner, you were shocked. You’ve been there a few times mostly on walks or running errands, but you’ve never been there to spend actual money considering neither of you could afford it. The most you and Lip would do is windowshop and daydream about the things you would buy if you had the money, before being chased off by the glaring sales people.

He picks you up at your door, pecking your cheek softly and telling you how beautiful you look. He takes your hand and leads you to the borrowed car before pulling out an expensive bouquet from the backseat. Your hands flatter as you mutter a quiet thanks. You’re a little confused at the grand gesture since Lip’s never gotten you flowers before, at least not without reason. He’s gotten you flowers exactly four times since he’s known you: the first on your first date, the second for your graduation, and the last two times for your anniversary. And all those times the flowers were below 5 bucks, something he picked up from the corner store. But the bouquet he gave you now had to be worth at least a day’s salary, you and Lip had a mutual understanding since the start that since money was scarce you wouldn’t spend it on materialistic things for each other, but lately it seems like he forgot that promise. He’s been taking you out to eat nearly everyday, always putting money down and never letting you pay, surprising you with little gifts, but worst of all he’s been running himself haggard, taking up as many shifts as he possibly could. 

He notices your quiet demeanor as he starts driving, “You okay, baby?”

“Yeah, I just…” you hesitate, not wanting to offend him. “I’m grateful for all of this Lip, really I am, I love everything you’ve gotten me, but I’m confused about where you’re getting all the money from and why you’re doing all this in the first place.”

Lip tightens his grip on the wheel, “Isn’t this what you want? Isn’t this what all girls want?” Lip scoffs the memory of Richie Rich slowly coming into picture. 

“I don’t understand what changed, everything was fine before, why are you spending money you don’t have? You don’t think I know that you’re working yourself to death trying to afford this shit?” Your voice raises in annoyance. 

“Yeah, well that’s my problem, it’s none of your concern how I get all this as long as you get it.”

“It is when you’re burning money on materials that won’t even last the year instead of investing in our future.”

Lip pulls to stop as the words leave your mouth. “Our future?” He asks. 

You lick your lips, trying to think of a way to backtrack but his eyes plead with you to tell the truth. “Yeah, our future. You know when we eventually move out, get a place of our own and have a kid or two?”

Lip smiles at the thought, “You want all that with me?”

You nod incredulously, “What did you think this was you idiot? That we were just playing boyfriend/girlfriend? Look I appreciate all these gestures, but the way I see it you’re burning 50 bucks on flowers that are gonna wither in a week instead of spending that money on something like our future house.”

Lip cups your chin in endearment before pulling you in for a quick kiss. “I’m sorry, I let everything get away from me.” He huffs in frustration before letting your chin go and clenching his fists. “It’s just when you visited me at work a few weeks back you were talking to this guy. This very rich guy who… I don’t know… I know you aren’t like that, but I couldn’t help but think this is all I’ll be able to offer you, at least right now. I will never be able to whisk you away on a private jet or buy diamonds just cause.”

You giggle as you hold his face in your soft hands, his head tilting to lean into your palm. “Lip Gallager, for someone with an insanely high IQ, you are so incredibly stupid, ” He huffs out a laugh in embarrassment as you continue, “That guy, that fool was annoying as fuck. I was just trying to get him off my back. And not to mention incredibly fucking stupid. Everything that was coming out of his mouth made me cringe and thank the stars that you’re nothing like him.”

He kisses your palm before pulling you into another kiss. “Can we skip the fancy restaurant now?” you ask as he presses kisses to your pouty lips. 

“Where do you wanna go instead?”

“Family dinner, and then out for ice cream?” you suggest. He nods before putting the car back in drive. 

_

Lip Gallagher was all sorts of fucked up. But somehow in his fucked up life, he managed to find you, his light at the end of a dark, narrow, and gloomy tunnel and he thinks, maybe, he isn’t so unlucky after all.

[zionworkzs]

Alright, lets talk about Aziraphale protecting Gabriel. More specifically why and what it tells us about our favorite angel.

First off, I like musing about why Gabriel came to Aziraphale in the first place. He says he was looking for Beelzebub and "got lost." I think, and I'm sure someone has mentioned this before, but I think Gabriel on some level knew Aziraphale's infatuation with Crowley and thought, if anyone will understand my predicament (read: being in love with a demon), it's Aziraphale.

And that's really sweet, but for me, the interesting thing is WHY Aziraphale helps him, and why he seems so willing to help so soon, with virtually no information.

Why?

Is it some of that Heavenly loyalty? Maybe. I kind of doubt it since Gabriel tried to kill what he thought was Aziraphale at their last encounter. And Aziraphale knows this, even if Crowley never told him directly what went on in Heaven.

So why? He loves the mystery? Sure, later in the season he enters his Detective Era(tm) for all of one episode, but his initial thought isn't to solve what happened, it's to protect Gabriel.

Does he feel bad for Gabriel? Probably, a little. But again, Gabriel is technically an enemy at this point. And would Aziraphale really risk the life that he built for himself (and Crowley) for this amnesiac archangel because he felt bad for him? Honestly, probably, yeah. But there's more to it than that.

Even when faced with danger. Danger for himself, Crowley, and all their human guests, he still protects Gabriel.

WHY?

Because fundamentally, he believes that everyone can be redeemed. And not even in a Heaven-can-save-your-soul kind of way either. In a distinctly human way. He's seen 6,000 years of human history. He's seen humans be unbelievably cruel and also heart-warmingly kind. He's seen his own demon (supposedly unlovable, cruel, evil) be kinder than all of Heaven's angels combined. But the interesting thing about that is that Crowley is kind in the way humans are kind. And Aziraphale believes in human kind.

He sees the good in people, even if it's buried so far down they may not even recognize it. And there's something inside him that longs to bring that goodness out in others.

And I think this hits on a main facet of his personality which is Hope. Because if people can change, and people can be good, there is hope.

Makes me think of this post:

[padfootagain]

Love in Verses (II)

Chapter 2 : ‘Through me the way to the City of Woe’

Hi, everyone!!! Here we go for a second chapter! Drama is upon us, the plot is plotting! Let me also introduce you to Samantha, Andrew’s partner… I’m sure you’re going to love her a lot…

I hope you like this series! Tell me what you think!

****

Pairing: Hozier x fem!reader (professor!AU)

Warnings: slow burn, angst, hurt, hurt/comfort, tooth-rotting fluff in later chapters, some scenes in later chapters will have heavy sexual themes even if it’s not explicit nsfw description, so minors here

Summary: Your life seems perfect. You're engaged, your career is thriving as you become an assistant professor at Trinity College, and this Andrew Hozier-Byrne you're sharing an office with seems to be a nice guy you hope to call a friend soon. Life seems to be smiling at you... until everything goes sour. When your fiancé breaks up with you, your perfect world shatters. And when your colleague also gets his heart broken soon after, your shared office seems to be a curse rather than a blessing. But Andrew seems determined to mend your broken hearts... Will things finally go according to plan?

Word Count: 4510

Masterlist for the series – Hozier’s masterlist – Main masterlist

Through me the way to the City of Woe, Through me the way to everlasting pain, Through me the way among the lost. Justice moved my maker on high. Divine power made me, Wisdom supreme, and primal love. Before me nothing but things eternal, And eternal I endure. Abandon all hope, you who enter here.

Dante Alighieri, The Divine Comedy : Inferno, Canto III, 1321

Andrew was tired, but then he was tired all the time.

As he prepared himself a strong coffee that morning, Sam was busy on her phone, probably going through her social media or reading the news. It didn’t really bother him, he was quiet in the morning anyway, liked to start slowly, to emerge into the world in a silent and gentle way. He was naturally a night owl, it was a struggle every morning to get out of bed early. At least, before the new year of classes started, he could go to work later, no classes schedule early these days.

Elwood was sleeping again. After an early walk around the neighbourhood, the dog was back on his comfortable bed, curled in a black and white ball, softly snoring. Andrew looked at his dog with love, refraining from petting his head, choosing to let him rest instead. He was a good boy, he deserved all the sleep he wanted.

He thought of you as he poured some coffee in his favourite mug. The meeting to distribute classes for the upcoming year was today. Of course, there had been one already before summer, so lecturers could begin preparing their classes if they needed. But some new arrivals would change a few things, some negotiations between lecturers too. Andrew himself was going to switch a class with Colm, another professor from the English department, inheriting a class about Yeats’s poetry instead of biblical studies. If he wasn’t against some religious metaphors – and given the weight of religion in Ireland, Andrew reckoned that he could never escape from it anyway – he was happy to avoid teaching about it.

But you were new at Trinity, and he wanted you to enjoy yourself during your first year. Upon his arrival, Andrew had lacked a guide, someone who would explain to him how things worked, especially the more selfish and ruthless side of the institution. If Trinity was wrapped in traditions, it was also filled with professors who cared little about their colleagues thriving in their academic pursuits, especially if that meant compromising with their own wants. Some professors were kinder than others, more willing to compromise. He’d help you navigate through the meetings, and hoped you could get to choose your classes too…

“My mother wants to invite us on Sunday,” Sam broke the silence that covered Andrew’s kitchen. A blank silent, an emotionless one; neither uncomfortable of comfortable, one that was there to settle on the furniture and in the corners of the room and simply lay there, undisturbed.

“I can’t on Sunday, I’m helping Jon with his film project, and then I’ll have lunch at my parents’. You were supposed to come to lunch with me.”

Andrew turned to Samantha then, sipping on his coffee and grabbing an apple as a breakfast. She said nothing, but her frown spoke volume. She was annoyed, maybe even angry.

“It was planned, baby. I’m sorry, we can go next week.”

“I think I’ll go see my parents anyway,” she said, her tone cold and firm, the one Andrew knew meant that he had no chance of changing her mind. He heaved a sigh, rubbed at his tired eyes with the back of his hand.

“As you wish, I’ll warm my mom.”

“You’re really not coming with me?” she asked, and her eyes were throwing daggers at him.

Andrew bit on the inside of his cheek, his stare growing sterner as well.

“I had planned to spend time with my family, and my brother needs my help. I’ll come with you another time.”

We had planned to spend time with my family… but he didn’t say that out loud, unwilling to start an argument.

She mumbled something under her breath, turning to her phone again; something about ‘a useless film’, and Andrew didn’t want to hear her comment, he knew he wouldn’t like it.

“Won’t you be late for work?” she asked, her voice calmer again, but the remark annoyed Andrew anyway.

“I don’t have classes, and the meeting is at 1pm, I can take my time.”

She could have added a comment on his time blindness, but she didn’t, and he was grateful for it. He relaxed a bit thanks to that.

“Busy day for you today?” he asked, and she heaved a sigh in response.

“Yeah, I don’t think I’ll come over tonight. Besides, we might go for drinks with the guys from the tech company we’re working with at the moment. Do you remember? I told you about them.”

“Of course, I remember, honey,” he answered with a soft, tender voice.

“I still haven’t finished that bloody logo for them…”

Andrew was brought back to their university days then, when she studied art and he studied literature. When she longed to paint all day long and he fumbled through notebooks and broken guitar strings. When they both had dreams that were too big for them. They had made a choice, had decided to finish their degrees, and not to make the hardest of the sacrifices that would have opened the gates to a life filled with art. Andrew had changed major from music to English during his first year, had passed his exams instead of spending his time in a studio. Samantha had specialized in design and publicity, and had given up her brushes that painted the coasts of Ireland in favour of simpler shapes created on a screen. Andrew couldn’t say that he had regrets about it. He liked his life like this, on the outskirts of Dublin, sharing his love for poetry, writing his own poems, waking up most days by Samantha’s side, even if after all these years she still didn’t want them to move in together, and he couldn’t fathom why. He loved his job beyond measure, always finding a fascinating detail to study, something new to read that would shake his world. He still sang with friends when he felt like it, sometimes wrote music to fit his poetry. He had a full life, a happy one, he couldn’t complain, really.

He thought about the engagement ring he had bought once, when she wasn’t ready to get married. She had said no, it had broken something inside of him. But he loved her, he would be patient, he could wait, and anyway, that was years ago…

“You’ll do an amazing job, you always do,” he encouraged her, but she rolled her eyes.

“You’re too sweet sometimes,” her words were spoken as criticism, not as a compliment. He clenched his jaw.

“Anyway, I’ll be pretty busy too, today,” he said, even though she hadn’t asked about his plans for the day, but then she hardly ever asked. She listened when he spoke about it though, and that ought to be enough. “We have our final meeting to select the classes we’re going to teach. I’m a little worried for Y/N, though.”

“Why? I’m sure she can take care of herself.”

Sam’s tone was a little dry still, he wasn’t sure if she were jealous or simply still annoyed.

“Trinity isn’t always filled with the nicest people. A lot of academics are quite selfish sometimes. I want her to have a nice time teaching. She seems very nice. And I arrived only last year, I know how stressful this situation can be.”

Sam nodded, but didn’t seem convinced.

Andrew threw the core of the fruit in the bin, finished his coffee, washed his mug. He didn’t want to argue, didn’t want to fight. Still, for some reason, he really wanted to talk about you. He had been worried upon learning that someone would share his office now, and he was relieved to find that you were kind, smart, and everything but annoying. He hoped the two of you could become friends.

“Y/N said that she found a poster for the office too! Can’t wait to see what she’s chosen.”

“Nice,” Sam nodded, and Andrew knew she wasn’t paying attention anymore.

He let out a long exhale through his nose, and she didn’t notice. He grabbed his water bottle, crossed the room, stopped to drop a peck on her head as he walked by her.

“Have a nice day, babe. I love you.”

“You too. Love you.”

She didn’t look up from her phone, and it sounded automatic, the way she answered. Andrew remembered when they started dating, about seven years ago. Both in their early twenties, young and naïve and heads full of dreams. She used to stare at him for hours, she used to look him in the eyes every time she said she loved him, to make sure he knew she meant it. He wasn’t so sure she meant it every time she said it anymore…

He pushed the thoughts away; he reckoned that this was his busy, anxious brain talking. Instead, he put on his shoes and his denim jacket, grabbed his bag and slung it over his shoulder. He stopped thinking about Sam, and thought about you and the poster you had promised you would bring today, and he walked out of his flat.

The meeting was over, and you seemed happy. Actually, you seemed ecstatic. And it made Andrew happy as well.

He had managed to get the class about Yeats, as planned. He had helped you through the meeting, discreetly, in whispers, but it was enough for you to secure classes you were interested in teaching. This year, you would teach three classes bound directly to your research, a general introduction to 19th century English literature, another about revolutionary writings in which you planned on including a fair share of pamphlets about women’s rights, and another about 19th century novels. You were buzzing with excitement as you walked back to your office, chatting with Andrew and his good friend Colm.

“I have so many things to prepare, but also… I feel very confident in these subjects,” you grinned at the two men.

“You can’t be happier than Andy finally teaching only classes he wanted,” Colm laughed, bright and loud, throwing his head back like a child despite the fact that he was middle-aged man.

Andrew nodded, heaving a relieved sigh.

“I thought Lydia was about to make a scandal…”

“She didn’t want you to leave one of the difficult classes. You’re too popular a teacher for that.”

Andrew rolled his eyes.

“I definitely am not.”

“You are too! Students love him,” Colm added, turning towards you. “And I will easily admit he’s a good professor, great at explaining things, and always very calm. But let’s be honest, the fact that most of our students are attracted to him helps a lot.”

Andrew looked away, trying to hide that he was blushing, but you laughed anyway.

“Such a pretty mug!” Colm teased, trying to grab Andrew’s chin, but he merely pushed his friend away, laughing.

“Quit your nonsense, would you?” Andrew laughed. “Don’t listen to him, Y/N. He loves talking shite about others.”

“That is not true! Y/N! Please, with your feminine point of view… tell him I’m right.”

You chuckled, shied away, but answered anyway.

“Oh, I’m sure Andrew must be popular, yes. I would have definitely preferred staring at his face when I was a student, compared to the old dinosaurs I had to put up with.”

Andrew was blushing so hard, even his ears were turning a bright shade of red, but he couldn’t refrain his grin nonetheless.

“Please, tell me I don’t fall in that category!” Colm protested, making you laugh.

“No… not quite yet. You still have a couple of years ahead of you,” you joked, and Andrew burst into laughter, while Colm mumbled something under his breath, rolling his eyes.

“Well, children, this is my stop, have a good day,” he mumbled, entering his office while Andrew and you continued a bit further.

“I’m glad you’ll give classes you’re interested in,” Andrew said, giving you a warm smile.

“Thank you so much for helping me throughout the meeting. It was… a lot to take in.”

“Yeah, some people here are proper gobshites.”

You laughed at that, entering your shared office.

“Hmm… I have noticed, yes. You seem particularly fond of Ian,” you chuckled, and Andrew rolled his eyes.

“I’m a very peaceful kind of lad, but that arsehole deserves to get some sense being punched into him.”

You raised a surprised eyebrow at that. If you had been teasing, the fact that Andrew had turned more serious as he answered made you intrigued now, rather than playful.

“Really? What did he do?”

Andrew stared at you for a few seconds, wetting his lips before he would answer.

“Nothing illegal, don’t worry. But he’s an arsehole. He will destroy your career and reputation if it serves his interests. Especially if you’re a woman.”

He saw you clenching your jaw at that last remark, and he heaved a sigh.

“I’m sorry,” he shook his head, and he hoped you could see that he meant it.

“Don’t be sorry, it’s not you who is at fault. Anyone else I should be cautious about?”

“Mahon, O’Reilly, Evans, Hillstone and Patterson.”

You raised a surprised eyebrow.

“You’ve got a whole list ready,” you pointed out.

“I’ve been here for a year. Fool me once, shame on you…”

You slowly nodded, Andrew sighed again.

“Don’t worry, the rest of the bunch are nice though. Most of them are nice.”

“I’m used to it.”

You shook yourself out of the conversation, a smile growing on your features.

“I have something to show you!”

Andrew frowned a little at that, bending to avoid the lamp hanging from the ceiling as he walked over to your desk. He had grabbed his thermos filled with his favourite brand of tea.

“Really?”

You pulled out a rolled poster, and he laughed.

“Oh! So you did settle on some decoration!” he pointed out, while he opened the buttons of his grey tweed waistcoat. He buried his hand in the pocket of his tweed pants while you fumbled with the empty frame.

He put down his thermos on the edge of your desk, then pushed back a strand of hair that was falling across his eyes, readjusted his glasses upon his nose. You were quick to place the poster in the frame, and you grinned up at him once you were done, right before turning the frame around to show him the poster.

“I love this illustration. I had it hanging in my dorm when I was a student, and then in my first apartment. But my fiancé finds it a little… dark. And he’s not particularly interested in literature so… he doesn’t really get it. Anyway!”

You stopped your little rambling, grabbed the frame, and showed it to him.

Andrew raised a surprised eyebrow, immediately recognising Gustave Doré’s illustration of Dante’s Inferno.

The black and white print showed Virgil and Dante standing on the edge of a precipice, staring at a hurricane carrying the souls of sinners, talking to a couple crying in their everlasting punishment. Andrew had not read the book since his own college days, but he remembered that this was the punishment for those guilty of lust.

“Do you like it? Can I hang it?” you asked, an excited smile he found adorable on your lips. “I thought the black and white would fit your poster quite well.”

“Sure, go ahead. Need help?”

But you were already placing the frame against the wall.

“I have to admit, I’m quite surprised by your choice,” Andrew inspected the print, leaning against your desk, his hands still in his pockets. “I didn’t picture you as a fan of Dante… especially given his… conservative thoughts.”

“I love Inferno. I’m not going to pretend that I love the entirety of the Divine Comedy, but I love Dante’s image of hell. The haunting part of it. The way it is structured. Of course, it’s medieval thinking about issues that have radically changed now, but… It was a long time ago. If I don’t appreciate all of his thoughts, I do admire his imagination. Besides, it was a heavily political book. I’m surprised you don’t give him more credit for that.”

He answered your teasing smile with a genuine one.

“I do remember a little bit of that. Last time I read it, though… I was a student and hadn’t chosen to suffer through it. Besides… I think I was a little too young to understand it fully.”

You nodded.

“I’ve read it many times. I don’t know, there’s something… something about it that draws me in. Not the Christian moral lessons, of course. But just… I don’t know… there’s something fascinating about it. And I often wonder what our version of hell would be today. If we kept the structure, if we kept the place Dante created… how would we view those who are imprisoned there? Would we find their pain justified? Would we find it unfair to punish them like this? And who would we place in there? If we replaced the references to people Dante knew by people from our world, who would be stuck in Hell?”

Andrew pondered on these questions while he kept on listening to you. He had a few names in mind, for sure. He smiled at the thought, didn’t interrupt you while you babbled away about the book, about the things you loved and disliked about it.

“And I love Doré’s illustrations so much! They’re haunting, just like the book. And this one in particular, with Francesca and Paolo… like… their story is so sad, but even Dante was touched by them. Even if the moral in his book is outdated now, goes against what I believe… I’d like to think that we’d turn their story around today, that we wouldn’t condemn their love or include such a warning towards fiction through them, you know… with the whole reference to Arthurian myths and everything… don’t know if you remember that… but anyway… what would we think of them today? I’d like to believe we would find their punishment in hell unfair.”

You trailed off after that. You were nervous when you looked at him, pushing some of your hair behind your ear.

“Sorry for the ramble,” you apologised, but Andrew frowned in response.

“No need to apologise. Why would you?”

“I didn’t mean to bother you.”

“You’re not bothering me at all. Your thoughts are very interesting.”

You blinked at him, as if surprised. You gave him a bright smile, growing a little shy.

“Right, thanks. But we should get back to work.”

Andrew nodded, moved away from your desk and bent again to avoid the lamp hanging from the ceiling.

He looked at you as you stared at the poster for a moment. He was happy you were the one sharing his office, you were getting along well, you were so nice, you were so smart and always seemed to have something interesting to say. He just wanted to talk to you more about this book you loved, but you were right, you both had a lot of work to do. He should focus on this article he was reading before the meeting. Instead, he looked at you for a moment longer. And before his brain pushed the thought away, before Samantha was on his mind again, he didn’t fail to notice how beautiful you were.

He looked for his thermos across his desk, furrowing his brow when he didn’t find it there. He rolled his eyes, annoyed at himself when he remembered where it was.

He walked over to your desk again, reached for it while you were still focused on the poster. But his fingers got clumsy as he threw you a glance, and it fell across your desk. Some of the warm beverage was spilled on the wooden surface.

“Shite! God!”

You turned around at the sound, but Andrew didn’t see your eyes growing slightly round. Instead, as a reflex, he had grabbed your phone and papers to secure them, was already looking for some tissues to clean the mess he had made. You reached for some Kleenex tugged inside your backpack.

“Christ, I’m so sorry,” Andrew profusely apologised, hurrying to clean your desk too. “Sorry, I’m so… long, clumsy limbs… I’m so sorry…”

He cursed at himself under his breath, didn’t look at you, fiercely blushed. Always count on him to ridicule himself…

“That’s nothing, don’t worry about it,” you reassured him, and when Andrew looked up again, you had an earnest smile on your lips. “It was just an accident, don’t worry about it.”

“I’m sorry…”

Andrew was so flustered, so embarrassed… He finished cleaning, handed you back your things without making eye-contact, rubbed at his collarbone through his shirt as soon as his hands were empty again.

When he finally looked up once more, you were still smiling.

“It’s nothing, Andrew. It’s merely a little bit of tea. Besides, you’ve saved the most important items on my desk. Nothing to be so upset about.”

The anxious side of him had kicked in, he couldn’t help it. He ran his fingers through his hair several times while he forced out a chuckle.

“I know, sorry…”

Andrew walked back to his desk, looked at his computer screen while he heard you chuckling lightly. He saw in the corner of his eyes that you were fondly shaking your head at him.

Why did he have to always make a fool of himself, huh?

All you wanted to do was to rush home to share the good news with Frank.

You had managed to get interesting classes, including some linked to your research… you were so excited to get to work and begin teaching in October.

When you came home, Frank was on his computer, working. He kissed you when you leaned closer, but focused on his screen again, and so you decided to wait for dinner to talk to him about your day.

You took a shower, prepared dinner. Frank was still working, he only stopped when you told him dinner was ready.

“Smells nice,” he said with a smile, squeezing your hand, and you took the gesture for a silent thank you.

“Thanks!”

Frank remained silent as he started to eat, and so you jumped on the opportunity to speak about your day.

“The meeting about classes and lectures was today. And it went so well!” you started babbling away, Frank looking up at you with an emotionless gaze. “I’ve managed to get topics I’m interested in, and I’m going to teach about my research too! I mean… not directly about my research, but problematics bound to it! I’ll have a class about the male gaze and female gaze dynamics, another about feminism and feminist essays…”

“That’s great, babe.”

“Yeah! Andrew helped me navigate through the meeting quite a bit, and he got the classes he wanted too, so…”

“That’s nice.”

“Yeah! And…”

“Could you hand me the salt, please?”

“Sure. I’m also gonna work quite a lot on the 19th century, which is great! I like that period, especially for novels. And that means that I can include lots of female writers, like Austen and the Brontë sisters, obviously… but I can also spend some time on feminist movements, cause that’s really an important century for them.”

“Good, good…”

“Yeah, that’s grand, and…”

He heaved a sigh, and you grew quiet.

“You’re alright?” you asked, trying not to show your disappointment.

You knew that this question meant that the conversation would focus on him for a while, and you might not be able to talk about today again.

“I… Y/N, we need to talk.”

Your heart sank.

That was not the answer you were expecting…

“Talk?”

“About us.”

“What? What do you mean? About the wedding, you mean?”

“No, I…”

He hesitated, looked at you for a moment, before putting his fork down.

“I think we should break up.”

And that was it. Words that were shattering your world spoken like they were easy to let out, like they didn’t mean the earthquake they produced. You merely stared for a moment, waiting for Frank to tell you that he was joking, to take his words back. But he didn’t.

“I’m sorry,” he went on. “But I think we should go our separate ways.”

“What the fuck are you talking about? We’re engaged! We’re going to get married!”

“I’m sorry, Y/N… I know it’s pretty sudden…”

“PRETTY SUDDEN! WE’RE ENGAGED! YOU’RE EATING MY FUCKING FOOD!”

“There’s no need to shout…”

“NO NEED TO SHOUT! OF COURSE, THERE IS A NEED TO SHOUT! WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?!”

“I’m sorry… but it’s best if we don’t stay together.”

“Why? What happened? You… We’re supposed to get married…”

“I’ve met someone else, Y/N.”

Your eyes grew round, and suddenly all air had left your lungs.

“You… you’re cheating on me?!” you asked, your voice lowering again, your emotions bubbling too much, tears rising to your eyes.

“No! No! No!” Frank defended himself, shaking his head vehemently. “Nothing happened. I swear, nothing happened… but… Y/N, if I am able to feel this way for another woman, then we shouldn’t get married.”

“For how long have you known her? Who is it?”

“You don’t know her. We’ve met through work.”

“How long?”

“Not long… a few weeks.”

You raised an unimpressed eyebrow, crossing your arms before your chest.

“A few weeks? You’re trying to make me believe that you want to leave me for a woman you’ve met weeks ago?!”

“You don’t understand, we’re in love…”

You felt your head starting to spin, you had buried it in your hands.

This was a nightmare, just a bad dream, you would wake up and everything would get back to normal, you would tick all the right boxes again…

“What do you mean in love?”

“I love her. I know that it sounds… mental, but I do. And if I can fall in love with someone else like this… then you and I shouldn’t get married. It means that I… that I don’t love you enough to marry you.”

“You’ve got to be joking…”

“I’m not. I’m sorry, but I’m serious.”

“What’s her name?”

“Does it matter?”

“No, no… Do you want to be with her?”

“Yes. But I don’t know if she’ll want to be with me.”

“Really?”

“She’s not single either.”

You laughed then, tears streaming down your face too, unable to cope with the tidal wave of emotions that was drowning you.

Denial, pain, betrayal, anger, sadness…

“I’ll gather my things,” he said, standing up while you started shaking on your chair, struggling to breathe.

You didn’t even notice that he was moving away, that he was packing… you remained frozen on your seat, sobbing, while Frank was gathering fragments of your lives and tearing them away from your space.

He only reappeared about an hour later in the kitchen, the rest of your meal was cold. You hadn’t moved an inch.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

And then he was gone.

[fumifooms]

"Marchil? I guess I can see it on Chilchuck’s end, but what about Marcille’s? What makes you think she could develop feelings for him?" I’m glad you asked!

The first thing to note is that she does think highly of him

In the page on the right, literally defending his virtues and literally comparing him to Dalclan. And oh…

She does love a brooding mysterious guy who closes himself to love. But surely, Chilchuck isn’t her type at all, right? He’s not princely or knightly at all. In apperances certainly not, both looks wise and demeanor wise, but then that’s why she seeks to know him on a deeper level, to not only look shallowly.

And hmm. Chilchuck really is quite selfless isn’t he? Always looking out for others, and saving specifically her often, always making sure himself and, staying in or even running towards danger for her sometimes. Modesty is often considered heroic…

And can we talk about that drowning one… You can definitely frame the special attention as him knowing she tends to hesitate or be clumsy, and then his insistance on pulling her out of danger that she’s the healer aka the most important to keep alive, but. From the one who says that he just keeps his ass out of fights and won’t help this is a lot of risk to take, and he does die trying to pull her to safety in the dungeon rabbits chapter. And the drowning bit??? That’s when the dungeon collapses. The only reason they DON’T die of drowning here is that the water then gives way to outside. There was NO hope of pulling her to safety here and resurrections would likely not work either, he truly preferred to die with her than try to survive himself.

Sit your ass back DOWN you are in no state, self-sacrifical hero much damn

And Marcille definitely noticed this imo, after all she loves learning all she can about him, remembering things like how he hates waiting on people too. She pays attention to him and what he does and what he says. This to say that it’s notable, whatever reason for it you may think (though we know by this point at least she was already aware he was an adult though it wasn’t internalized), out of everyone it’s Chilchuck’s bed that she wants to sleep in during the Golden Kingdom stay. He’s safe and comforting to her: dependable, the defining trait in her view of him as is shown by the relationship chart in the Adventurer’s Bible.

^ Lending handkerchiefs is a romance trope btw and handkerchiefs have irl history of being used for courting. Especially in old English literature and plays like Shakespeare’s Othello, and personally I do see a lot of Shakespeare in Dalclan (nobility political drama with some romance). There’s how his cowl is a dearly beloved souvenir from his family too, there’s a lot of aesthetic tropes you can apply to him.

All this to say you can 100% romanticize Chilchuck into a princely noble guy if you try and that’s exactly what Marcille does with the wife roleplay. She doesn’t need much in the first place, she latches onto crumbs and makes aesthetic narratives out of details, give her an inch she’ll take a mile.

But what’s interesting about the shift throughout the arc of her and his relationship is that she starts out idealizing him into a little angel of a kid (shapeshifter), and she ends it idealizing him as a virtuous husband and family man instead.

And what’s doubly interesting is that in the former, she’s actively warping who he is personality and demeanor wise to fit the aesthetic, he doesn’t have that bitter pride of not asking for help and the edges have been smoothened. But what she does during the wife roleplay is something else, she acknowledges the flaws and just… Accepts them, rolls with them. She’s aware of his flaws and implements them into the narrative, but the reason why his wife left doesn’t capitalize on them even, rather Chil is chilblivious and his wife loves him very much still, she’s just testing him after having had a night of feeling out of place at his side.

And this is what separates the idealization vs romanticization, she’s not twisting him into someone else she’s just uplifting what he is and focusing on the good sides.

Marcille: "he has a shitty personality sometimes but if he was my husband I’d still cherish him" "If I were your wife I’d be overjoyed to go out with you and would get myself prettied up while you complain about me taking a long time, your friends would tell me that I’m nice and that’d make me happy, but I’d also be sad because you wouldn’t tell me that you love me enough"

He’s angry and his wife left him, he’s *flawed*, but he’s still worth hyping up, still worth having his own romance story, still has a shot of winning back his beloved. She sees him for what he is, human and real and not a carefully scripted character that fits an aesthetic, and she thinks it’s still worthy of love and admiration and fighting for

And what’s funny too is that you might expect her to cool down on him once she learns more about him but actually she only gets increasingly into his business. You tell her your age and next thing you know you promise to introduce her to your family. Give her an inch she takes a mile. And too the thing is, Senshi is equally mysterious but she doesn’t pester him like at all, asks him ONCE about his succubus and he doesn’t even answer and that’s like… It. With Chilchuck it starts off innocently enough with her wanting to know his age, hometown, the stuff she mentions having asked pre-canon. But it just keeps and keeps going and escalating. Think she’ll be satisfied now knowing you have a wife and kids, maybe she’s disillusioned now? Wrong! She wants to know their names and ages and occupations and hey how did you propose to your wife? Do you think she’ll stop after meeting them? What’s next? What will she want to know next????

She’s… Like it’s not a reach that Marcille is all over him. Like it doesn’t mean it’s romantic but she just is. She is not normal about him idk. Can you not ask him about what tongue technique he used when first kissing his wife, give the man breathing room

Marcille could literally go "if I was Chilchuck’s wife" having deeply pondered and thought out the hypothetical and people would still ask where anyone sees any romantic potential between them. Oh wait

There’s a platonic explanation for everything (almost?) in Dungeon Meshi don’t say I’m saying otherwise, but it’s definitely not like there’s nothing here to read into lol

Going off a bit more under read bc it’s my fave topic

Marcille has a whole theme with the charming prince trope with her idealization and storybook motif and Chil is kinda the "Well someone perfect like that isn’t very realistic and romance is usually more complex and that’s ok and good and flawed people can still be ✨virtuous✨" catalyst

Do you see do you see she starts canon thinking the most romantic thing is a prince charming but her arc in the end has her romanticizing an average, flawed, real and realistic family man, who’s on the poorer side and is on the verge of divorce. And that’s what he needed, too, seeing the positive of himself and the situation instead of focusing on the negative is explicitly what inspires him to hope that he might be able to reconcile with his wife, gives him the courage and self-esteem to shoot his shot.

He IS a prince figure instead that now it’s not about idealizing the grand and overt it’s about romanticizing the small things in real life!! About finding joy and beauty in things that seem normal or mundane and uplifting them to make the world feel kinder!!!!

He’s the devoted virtuous man that she wantsss not the storybook prince that’s unrealistic and could crumble like a script at any time. He’s the perfect example of a flawed realistic but virtuous & devoted & loving man. Far from a prince charming, but not fully detached from it either. Something worth fighting for despite the flawed cracks. Like literally, flawed romance being worth fighting for is literally the finale of Chilchuck and Marcille’s arc on the matter, where their separate arcs and issues intersect at the most crucial moment.

Marcille is important to Chil’s arc not only because of her optimism, but also because of her interest and knowledge in romance & matters of the heart, and that’s what he needs to both open his heart up to hope and to try to reconcile with his wife, like idk sounds gay

Their arc together is literally learning to 1) see each other for how they are and not undermining their qualities capacities etc etc while still not leaving flaws unchecked either and 2) opening up to people. Marcille LITERALLY makes Chil open his heart up to hope like idk man. What do you want from me. He’s literally the guy helping her through deconstructing novels and fantasy and rose tinted glasses and like. Deconstructing the prince charming figure into something more real but still romantically beautiful like KUI KUI STOOOOP STOP I’M ALREADY HOOKED I’M ALREADY-

 Ok fine that’s me reading into the tropes too much forgive me for being storybook brained but like. Speaking his heart out to a lone woman on a balcony, Romeo and Juliette shit, asking if she, too, doesn’t want to meet his family, madly blushing. And like she’s learned with Chilchuck it’s all in the little things, all the implications he cannot speak aloud. She does reciprocate, does blush madly back, and the first thing she does is shower him in flowers and jewelry and what in her heart is coded as romantic gifts

A lady, stashed away in a high tower by her lonesome, waiting for someone to call out to her from below… Romeo courting type shit with an offer, a heartfelt spiel, implicit confession from underneath her balcony. Offering him flowers because he succeeded in calling out to her heart…….. And they have to climb to her too…. Crazy

Doesn’t it sound like a proposal. One that’s both so storybook-like and not, contrastedly real and grounded, all about the implications rather than in your face grand gestures, "Don’t you want to meet my family?". They literally have an arc about the topic of romance and this is the climax/pinnacle of it like god?? This is @ the woman who said "Chilchuck is a shy/bashful man so I know he wouldn’t tell me he loves me, but…" btw

To quote a friend, truly the shiny secret unlockable dating sim capture target : THE DUNGEON LORD BIT WAS SO FUNNY BECAUSE HE KNEW SHE'D TAKE IT HOOK LINE AND SINKER HES THE ONE WHO GOT HER TO TURN AROUND COMPLETELY SHES LIKE. WIDE EYED FLAG RAISED???? FLAG RAISED WITH CHILCHUCK 👀👀👀‼️👀👀‼️👀

And the way that this is the culmination of their arc together… Like people are not ready for the ‘Chil calling out to dunlord Marcille on the balcony has Romeo and Juliette romance novels imagery’ take. Or the ‘their arc is about growing to see beauty even in the non-idealized, in the flawed and in the real’ take which makes it so so perfect if she were to lower her ideal from a charming elven prince to a virtuous halfling man (which she does end up romanticizing)

So there, you got to witness in real time what happens when I think about marchil for longer than 2 minutes, there are so many layers it’s a deranged rabbithole. I saw the necronomicon of subtext and it’s driving me to madness with forbidden knowledge that no one else sees

……. Like what if I told you she implicitly picked Chilchuck over a "unrealistic prince charming who’s actually disingenuous" much earlier in the story already. If she was given the choice to think through going with a guy that seems perfect and chivalrous like her succubus she’d pick Chilchuck over the other actually. If I sound insane rn tune in for my full analysis on them coming this month hopefully thank youu. Interwoven arcs of fantasy vs reality and idealization vs pessimism I love youuu

So now you know the general thesis of my planned analysis about the importance of the prince charming figure in Marcille and Chilchuck’s arc, where she romanticizes things to a sometimes worrying degree or idealize people into something easy and digestible and poetic (like Chil being a kid, and then him being a virtuous ✨✨✨husband), and how she needs to value aesthetics less and actual acts and facts more, be more grounded (like seeing people for what they are flaws and all, and accepting that people need money and not pulling through on principles of honor or unity shouldn’t get Namari shamed) and a part of that is accepting that Chilchuck is BOTH flawed and virtuous, a loving husband that still has shitty moods and fumbled his marriage so bad etc etc. So it’s like, her image of perfect prince charming that will whisk you away on an ethereal romance -> realistic flawed middle aged dad with personality issues and a failing marriage but he still is worthy of love and having his cute grand romance story and his happy ending. Ik I keep repeating the same point through this but I need it to be burned into everyone’s brains it has its grip on me I can’t do this. They are so special……

[spread-the-influence]

Okay this has been orbiting my mind for a hot minute but could the influence virus affect different people in different ways in order to spread? Like, it's pretty much been implied that the virus makes you kinder to attract others into the trap but what if the technique changed to be more fitting according to the person?

Some examples that have invaded my brain:

Jax: Becomes a tyrant with the virus powers, orders people around and spreads beliefs like "you'll get hurt if you don't do this", makes the people suffer if they don't comply, covers it up, and goes "see? Told you". Basically spreads the virus through gaslighting.

Pomni: Becomes obsessed with helping herself, using the virus to look for an exit and claims it's for the best interest of everyone, uses the others by constantly playing the "I'm the new one and still hopeful" card and ends up dragging everyone into her madness.

Kinger: Claims to hear voices. The voices of those who he's seen abstract over the years. He believes he must help them but their code is no longer functional. Luckily, he's surrounded of code in the circus and just happens to have the power to take it.

anywaysbyeloveyouplatonically-

this is how the virus works actually ! it takes a lot from its host so it would spread , which opens up a Bunch of possibilities for the other characters .

so it doesn't make you Kinder per se , that's just only because it has tailored itself to ragatha ' The Fawner ' tadc . you know , the nice gal . the people pleaser . the ' starved for affection and love but is afraid to voice it out loud so she deals with it by supporting others but it just forces her into an endless cycle where her self-worth is inherently dependent on others approval to the point she would shatter at the thought of anyone hating her ' ragdoll . it'll be a Very different story if it tailored itself to jax or , fuck , even Gangle .

this is also why i'm leaving the option for any potential spin-offs of this au where another person is the host to the community , because this au is made from my insane thoughts about ragatha and i can't really capture that same essence for the other characters . sorry ragdoll brainrot too strong

also btw i love the idea for kinger omg it's so creative

[randomreadingtimewithtsuki]

Do you have any friendship headcannons for Senku and a 21st century de-lithified reader?

(Some plot points if it's not too specific and within your wheelhouse: Loves the hard sciences to the point of once heading a science club. More versed in the theory than in application though. Could be described as the token extravert and psychology geek.)

Hello!

I sure do! As an engineer, i sure do have some HC!

Thank you for requesting! I hope this is of your liking, please let me know what you think!

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

You were de-petrified, thanks to the Minami - she remember you made the headlines for a perfect score on a mock test to a renowned university.

Senku needed some help with the math and to guide everyone to build stuff, so, it was reassuring for him to have you around.

And thus, you came around to the science team!

Senku tested your knowledge right away. Of course, you knew what he was talking about when he mentioned the theory behind the GPS but...

Would it really work? Calculating and building are two very different things.

You knew it wasn't going to be a modern GPS but still....

You were a little scared of your teammates reaction - you knew all the theory, physics, chemistry, all of it, but you never actually built something.

To your surprise, no one really cared about your lack of experience. Senku said " And? that's why we have the building team and the gorilla team. If it goes wrong, we just have to adjust."

This kind of reassured you. Knowing that Kaseki was a very good craftsman with a decent knowledge of " this will not work" in the practical side of the story, it put your anxious heart at ease.

Senku also mentions that he, himself, did a lot of trials and error. So no need to worry about it!

As time went on you gained confidence on your theoretical knowledge and helped Senku in tons of projects.

You helped him calculate, consider variants, external implications and test out theories.

He also taught you a lot, about what works according to theory and what doesn't - which pretty much nothing works according to theory, that, you came to learn.

He absolutely loved having you around, you made his life so much easier.

He also enjoyed talking to you about the modern world. You knew about things that were impossible to build right now in the stone world and actually understood their purpose.

A HPLC? you knew what it was for and how important it s.

He loved it. He could lament about these equipments with you.

The thing he loved the most, was that you always had something to consider when you guys built something new. A possibility he overlooked, a procedure he forgot about, a math mistake. Anything!

Senku also enjoyed to see you grow. Getting out of your shell and doing experiments, here and there.

Chrome admired you tons too !! you knew so much!!

Kaseki also taught a few things about craftsmanship. Year of experience are golden knowledge!

If you thought you would tag a long with Senku all the time, you are wrong.

He trusted you, so when it was needed to divide the science team or needed someone with modern knowledge, you bet he placed you there.

He often said it makes things easier and quicker.

And when you met again, he expected some kind of report from you? Did things go well? He also gave you insights on his end.

Gen lowkey preferred to be tagged with you because you were kinder with the manual labor. Sometimes they had to redo things because of your lack of experience, but, He rather you anyway.

Kohaku didn't mind at all if you made mistakes while experimenting. She actually encouraged you tons!

Chrome was always learning with you, since you had to do all those experiment from scratch he took a sit next to you to learn.

Senku kinda supervised your work.

All in all, being friends with Senku while having great knowledge in science is fun.

You guys chat a lot about the modern world technology and what you wish you had.

You also had long and confusing discussion ( in the eyes of some) about theories.

Sometimes you went on a tangent, making the project a bit late, going deep into the night.

That's when Gen shined, telling you both to go to sleep.

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

Thank you for reading!

[renren-006]

Y'all did know? - Daryl x fem reader

Anon: i absolutely fucking love your fics, i read so many fanfics i don’t always remember authors but i for sure remember and recognize you and your work partially bc i reread it often❤️ after reading your last daryl fic at 4 am bc i couldn’t sleep i had an idea for a fic for him. what if it was slightly the opposite thing, like daryl and reader got together early on, maybe the knew each other before hand like reader was a bartender at merle’s favorite bar bc we all know daryl takes time to warm up to be ppl, and the cdc happens, while drinking they make their confession and get together officially, but readers like daryl with the fact they’re kinda shy and take a while to warm up to ppl so they don’t do pda and stuff publicly, not really intending to hide it but also not wanting the attention, and maybe they assume their ppl from their group know (this is where the set up for that last fic got me bc i can see this being a long timeline)......

original ask: Ask

a/n: hey anon!! i decided to copy some of what you wrote here but it was a massive request and I absolutely enjoyed reading it and writing it!!! thank you for the kind words!! you guys are why i love writing and helping make your stories become reality! hope you all enjoy reading it! word count: 3107

taglist: @rosecentury

Before World Ended:

You met the Dixon brothers a few years before the world ended. You were a bartender at a small driver's roadside bar off Atlanta I-85. You started working there after you graduated from college, hoping to make some money to put away to get out of Atlanta. 

Merle was always a loud drunk and a loud customer throughout the day. Daryl, however, was a kinder soul, apologizing for his brother before seating himself directly in the center of the bar area. The two of you chatted through your shift, mostly about who comes in, how his day was, and what the weather for the week would be like. It was small talk, but with the other rednecks checking you out, you felt comforted by him. Daryl never made any plans to put any moves on you in the three years he knew you, but when the world ended, and you almost got killed, he knew he had to.

"I like ya," he said aloud. You looked over at him. He was gazing up at the sky, a beer between his knees. You just sat there watching the man. 

“What the hell does that mean?” you asked, slightly annoyed. You not only had almost died by an undead customer, but also it was an undead customer. The idea that people could die and come back to life as something unlike themselves was utterly unbelievable. You watched blow you as that undead walked around without noticing you and Daryl on the bar's roof. Merle was blocking the rest of the bar to keep everyone out. All three of you knew you would have to leave soon, but it didn't matter; the summer breeze was still blowing, and the beer was still cold for now. 

“It means…ya almost died and the shit of the world, so… I like ya.”

“You are a master with your words,” you told him sarcastically. You've known Daryl for years now; the two of you spoke the same language with people. You were always shy, and Daryl just took a while to open up to people. You both were a lot alike, and that's what kept you together and attracted you to one another. “I like you too.”

GEORGIA:

The two of you never addressed your relationship with each other, not that anyone really needed to know. Nor did the two of you showcase it. Since both of you were shy and had a bit of a more rigid exterior about letting people in, you just figured when you were alone with each other was the time to be closer, but out in the world hand, holding, loving looks, and conversation were the way to go about it. 

Merle knew, of course; he figured it out quickly. He was the only one learning about the two of you and not caring. Daryl acted the same as he had, except he didn't dare flirt with you. Daryl had given him one look on the road when you walked ahead, and he was staring at your ass that he never tried again. Merle may be mean to Daryl, but he never would cross-touch what were his brothers. Everyone thought it was a word.

“He doesn't flirt with you, does he?” Andrea asked you a few months into living together. You shook her your head. “Weird, he never stopped with me.”

“Maybe you're just his type, Andrea.”

“And you're not? Anything with tits and an ass and Merles all over it,” she said to you, not noticing the slight touch of hands with Daryl as he walked by and the smile you gave. She kept running on about Merle's annoyance, not noticing anything else around her. 

FARM:

“You crazy bitch” you yelled towards Andrea. She had run over far behind your form and Ricks. The two of you dashed towards the fallen man without a second thought in your mind. You ran towards your man, who was lying in the grass, groaning in pain. Daryl was barely speaking in Rick's arms as they carried him off. 

“Don't worry, your man will be fine,” Shane said, keeping you from absolutely bashing Andreas' face in. She took one look at your anger and held her hands up, walking backward towards Dale. “Don't bite her head off for this.”

“Whatever,” you said, shoving him off and walking up towards the house, where Daryl was now being brought inside. You didn't even consider Shanes's words that day, “your man.” it never crossed your mind that he was teasing you. Shane was a dick; everyone knew it more recently. You could see Shane's vacant eyes glancing at everyone in a way that made your skin crawl. You thought the only reason he was acting like that towards you was this asshole was flirting. He knew you were taken, right? You were mistaken. 

ROAD AGAIN:

You handed over a can of soda to Daryl. You had only found two in the house you searched.  Surprisingly, the can was left in a cabinet, meaning you could drink it if you wanted to. Daryl and Rick approached you once they entered the house. They both came to help you in the bigger house. You placed the soda in Daryl's hand.

“It's not beer, but I know you'll enjoy it anyway,” you said to him before heading up the stairs. 

“She's sweet on you,” Rick said with a smile, teasing the man beside him about you as you skipped the last few steps. 

“I know,” Daryl said as he went to look for other things inside the house. Rick looked back and forth between the stars and where Daryl had gone off, too. He laughed slightly.

“Those idiots,” Rick said, thinking they both had no clue about the other's feelings when everyone else was oblivious to their known feelings. 

PRISON:

You stood on the watchtower, scouting the land ahead. Daryl and a few others had gone on another trip to look for supplies. You had your rifle on the railing as you watched, and then you set up their gear and trucks. Maggie slid in next to you. She watched you watch Daryl move around in the ground, setting up his motorcycle. He looked good down there; the way his body moved, his mussels, and even the way his hair was falling was driving you wild. Maggie caught a glimpse of you checking him out.

“You're so obvious,” she told you. You laughed slightly.

“Sorry,” you apologized; you knew you were obsessed with watching him, but how could you not? You’ve known Daryl for so many years now it was impossible not to watch or admire the man before you. You loved him, and he knew that. Daryl was also quite aware of your joys of watching him, sometimes he would put on more of a show of stretching or giving you those lustful eyes you knew would mean the two of you wouldn't get any sleep that night. It was his favorite thing to do to get you worked up throughout the day. 

PRISON:

Daryl knew he was forgetting something before he even shut the truck's door. He heard her voice before she even reached the hill in the Prison. 

“Wait.” Daryl glanced out the window of the truck, putting his arm out and waving. He knew she was smiling from that before her face popped up in his vision. “You forgot your water bottle!” Smiling up at him was you, his girl—Rick snickers from the seat beside Daryl. 

“Thanks,” He said, grabbing the water bottle from your hand, “saving my ass.”

“Always am,” you responded, giving him a wink. Have a safe trip out.” As you said it, you turned with a wave and walked back up the hill. Swaying our hips bit as you did, you gave Daryl a show that you knew would make him come back to you tonight with a mission. 

Daryl and Rick headed off on their scout to a new town they had spotted on the map, a few miles away from the other town they had picked clean. As the two looked around the houses, Daryl went through many jewelry cases for anything that might seem like something you would wear. Rick came in on him, picking through when he had found the perfect thing.

“She would love this,” Daryl said. Rick came up next to him, observing the (silver/gold) necklace with a bird on the end of the chain swinging in the air. 

“Do you think about anything but her?” Rick asked, laughing as he exited the room to look in the one next to it. Daryl chuckled and shook his head. No, you were always on his mind. 

Little did he know, Rick assumed Daryl had a massive crush on you, not that he had any suspicions you two were already together.

When they returned and Daryl was back sitting next to you on that mattress on the floor, he pulled out the necklace. 

“I found it,” he told you, handing it over to you so you could see it. “I know how much ya miss these types of things.”

“Haha, did you know I missed jewelry?” You asked him, shocked he somehow knew how much you missed having something to wear around your neck. He nodded his head.

“I knew, ya mentioned it a while ago. Been looking for something for ya”

“Daryl,” you said with admiration. He put it around your neck; the man who you had met in a bar all those years ago was now putting a necklace on your neck in a run-down prison at the end of the world. 

AFTER PRISON FALL:

“Daryl?” You said, besides Carol, who had just completed her job of destroying a massive facility of cannibal people. You had been with her, the girls, and Tyreese since the fall and had been so scared that Daryl didn't make it out of the prison. You had run out of the hut and left Tyrese once you heard the explosion. You had found Carol and walked over to the others and saw him. 

Daryl didn't hesitate to run straight for you. You hugged me so tight you felt the air in your lungs stop for a moment, but you didn't care.

“I miss ta. I thought ya died,” Daryl said as he clung to your body. He had gone through hell to fight and find you, and here you were, not a scratch on you and in his arms again. That necklace still hung around your neck, a form of commitment to the both of you about who you were with.

“I'm alive. I'm alive,” you said as you held the man in your arms. The others stood and watched your reunion, no one thinking anything- “Wow, they must care for each other a lot.”

Once he broke off the hug, it was like looking into the eyes of the world again. You could see color, purpose, and meaning. He was everything to you.

 

AFTER TERMINUS:

After the terminus, Daryl stuck to your side. The two of you walked together, ate together, slept near each other, and went on runs together. When Carol and Daryl went to Atlanta, so did you. 

“How long have you two been together?” she asked as you walked through another building in Atlanta. Daryl casually answered as he passed an office door with a walker trying to get out.

“Since Atlanta fell,” he answered. Carol stopped, turning back to the two of you.

“You've been together for more than three years?” She asked the two of you. “How did no one pick up on it?”

“Wait, what?” you asked, shocked, “How does no one know Daryl and me are together?”

“You two have never been very…affectionate,” she told the two of you. Darly glanced your way. The two of you laughed a little at that.

“Yea, that makes sense,” Daryl said. This was the moment the two of you started looking towards the others for any answers if they knew you were together. For the last few months on the road, getting to Alexandria yielded you the response that no one knew a thing. It caused a bit of agitation for the two of you about how maybe your attitudes about being affectionate were causing more harm than good. 

ALEXANDRIA:

Once you all had gotten settled in and jobs were assigned, you all started to try and live a normal life again.Since moving into the two houses, you shared a space with Miccone, Rick, Carol, Daryl, and the kids. You and Darly took a room downstairs along with Carol down the hall, and the rest were split in the rooms upstairs. No one questioned you staying with Daryl or even looked at the fact that there was only one king bed in that room with the two of you. 

While Darly was assigned to go on runs to look for people, you were assigned daycare and teacher duty at the house designated for the school. It kept you busy while Darly was away, and on the days you had off or no one showed, you hung around with Crol or took watch. Many days, you walked around the complex, taking in the signs and the ability to walk in peace. That was until one day.

“Hey, you're one of the women from the new group, right?” a man asked as you walked back to your shared house. You could see Daryl on the porch talking with Carol, but he had not seen you yet. 

“Uh yeah,” you said, continuing to walk back; the man pulled your arm to face him.

“You know it's rude to keep walking when someone is talking to you. Or did you forget that after living in the wild for so long?”

“I didn't forget anything; I just don't want to talk to you,” you told the man, shaking your arm out of his grasp and walking faster towards the house. Finally, you made eye contact with Daryl. The way his face looked, you knew it was because he had heard. The man didn't stop trying. 

“Hey, don't walk away from me,” he said, running back up to you, grabbing your arm so hard and pulling and making you stumble back. “What if I'm not good enough for you? Can’t a man ask a girl for some action or what?” he said, pulling you closer to him. 

“Stop it,” you yelled back, but you didn't have to fight hard. Daryl was a flash before being by your side, and the man's face was flush against his fist.

“Touch me woman again, and that's the least I'll do to ya,” he said. The man froze as he looked up at you from the ground. That was the day you realized the longer people didn't know either of you was together, the more people would try and come up to you, assuming you were not. 

Daryl went to bed that night, angry. You knew it wasn't towards you, but the coldness in the room made you feel like the world was ending if you and him couldn't be more open. 

ALEXANDRIA:

‘What if you two just got married?” Carol asked as she was cooking in the kitchen. You paused your reading from the chair in the living room to look into the kitchen at Carol. 

“What?’ You asked, shocked by her expression. She turned away from what she was cooking on the stove to talk to you. 

“Well, since the people in Alexandria won't take the hint you've taken, and Daryl's upset, and also the issue of our own family not knowing…maybe you should just go out, find some rings, and get married.”

“I…hadn't thought of that,” you told her. “You think Daryl would be okay with that?”

“I think Daryl is more on board with that idea than you think, y/n,” Carol told you. She knew about the distance that had been caused by the repetitive men hitting on you. The guy whose nose was broken never once tried to come up to you and denied anything happening with you when others asked. No one knew what Darly had said that day apart from those there. The decision was made, at least on your part. You stomped your way over to Aaron's house. When he answered the door, you stomped in. 

“Need Daryl,” was all you said before heading to the back of his house to the garage. There, Daryl's bike sat as he tinkered with it. You slammed the door open, causing Daryl's head to look towards the door. A shutter went through the house.

“The hell, woman..” Darly almost got out. 

“Marry me,” you said when he was almost done speaking. Daryl's mouth closed, looking at you. “Do you need me to repeat myself? Daryl Dixion, marry me.”

“Ya no, I heard ya y/n,” he said, standing up, “why?’

“Why? Because I love you, and no one can even tell I do or that we have been together for more than four years,” you told him, frustrated by the string of events of the past year. 

“You want to marry me?” Daryl asked, taking your face in his grease-covered hands.

“Yes,” you told him, smiling.

EVERYONE'S REACTIONS:

Rick was holding a dinner for the family that night. Carol completed a large spread, and everyone showed up. You and Daryl were late. When you showed up, the two of you were holding hands. Michone was the first to welcome the new development.

“You guys waited long enough,” she joked, causing other heads to turn. Daryl looked down at his feet, and you just let out a sigh.

“We didn't, though,” you told them. Everyone looked twords you two in confusion. 

“Didn't what?” Michone asked, clearly confused by what was happening. 

“We've been together for four years,” Darly said, “And we just got married to prove it.” He lifted his hand to show the gold band on his finger, and yours lifted as well, showing the (silver/gold) band with a few small diamonds on it. The two of you had found a jewelry store and had fun picking out your ring, while Darly wanted something simple. 

“Holy shit,” Abraham said. 

“Wait, what? '' Carl shouted, clearly confused about how his uncle had been together with you for so long, and he didn't know.

“Congratulations,” Carol answered. Everyone else was shocked. “Oh, I've known about them for a while.”

“Tonight's dinner story is how the two of you got together,” Rick said as he motioned for the others to sit, “And no one is leaving out any details.”