#all entwined together with what's left of an old relationship

[rainbowvamp]

Story idea:

married person. partner asks for a divorce married person did not want. married person grants their request because they don't want divorce asker to be unhappy. married person and divorce asker did one of those little sand jar things where you pour in the two different color sands in a pattern to symbolize how you're entwining your lives together or whatever. after the divorce is finalized, married person obsessively tries to separate the two colors of sand from each other over the course of several years. thinks this will be healing. gets therapy at some point. something something giving up on separating the sand and just putting it all together and throwing it out at the beach is way more healing that obsessing about it ever would have been and the lesson is that letting go takes time and sometimes we do a thing we think is letting go (helping) but is actually just a way to hold on (hurt ourselves).

[stayinlimbo]

Returned Call

wc: 765, genre: exes to lovers(?), warnings: cursing in beginning, slightly unedited

note: although i feel this could be read as a stand-alone, here is the sequel to Missed Call you guys were asking for. i hope you enjoy ♡

Your call has been forwarded to an automatic voice message system: You know. Lee Minho. Not available. Voicemail. Speak. 

Fuck you, Lee Minho. No, seriously, fuck you. 

Tell me why I was contacted by not one but three of your dancing buddies within the past twenty-four hours about how you’ve been moping around and trudging through your routines for the past week. 

They were all essentially the same. You haven’t been the same since we broke up, is there any way we could reconnect, give you one more chance, blah blah blah. 

You must be doing really bad if one of them was Hyunjin, of all people. 

Two months too late, don’t you think?

As if any of this was my fault.

…

I was getting better before you called, you know?

I finally fixed my sleep schedule. I won’t lie, it took longer than I’d like to admit to break the habit of staying up late for you. At least I was already used to sleeping alone. 

I reconnected with some old friends since I couldn’t talk to Jisung as much without being reminded of you. They can still read me like a book, even after all these years.

I even went on a date. 

Granted, it was with myself, but I like to think it still counts.  

…

You know what I realized on my “date?” And while out with my friends? And on the sleepless nights I spent staring up at my childhood bedroom’s ceiling?

I had forgotten what it felt like to be seen. To be appreciated. To be loved. 

It seems like you’ve come to that conclusion as well, because you’re right. I deserved better. I deserve better. I may have ended our relationship, but I wasn’t the one who left first.

I remember our last kiss, paired with another one of your lies I foolishly kept believing in until I finished the movie night you promised you’d be home in time for. And I remember waking up on the couch with a sore neck to see your fatigued silhouette entering the front door, barely sparing me a glance as you dragged yourself towards the bedroom. 

You didn’t even look sorry. 

How could you, I guess, if you left everything back at the studio?

…

I used to admire your passion, Minho. I hate that I still do. You pour everything you have, everything you can possibly give, into what you love. So why couldn’t you do the same for us? For me?

You say you love me, but why does it feel like I lost something I'm not sure I ever had? 

…

Where did we go wrong? What did I do wrong? I gave everything to you. I gave you my heart, my body, my entire being. I gave you everything until there was nothing left to give.

I never asked for anything outlandish. I think it’s reasonable to want to talk with your partner, to share your lives with one another. I think it’s reasonable to ask about when you’ll be home for our anniversary without being yelled at in front of your friends. 

You want me to be proud of you? You want me to be happy about one of the very things that ripped us apart?

Yes, you’re selfish, but I’m no better. 

…

Maybe this is my fault. After all, no one should feel obligated to love someone. I just never thought it’d apply to us. 

…I wish I could hate you. I really do. 

But all I see is your stupid face smiling at me when I close my eyes. I hear your laugh ringing in my ears when I remember the ways you said or did something ridiculous to make me feel better after a stressful day. I still feel the warmth of your body wrapped around mine when we did wake up next to each other, our legs entwined together to where it was impossible to escape. Not that I ever wanted to. 

I want you to keep smiling at me. I want you to hold me. I want you to miss me. I want you to want me. 

Because I still want you. 

…

I want to give you a second chance, Minho. If things could be different this time, if we could be different. If we could share ourselves, wholeheartedly, as lovers, and not strangers.

I want to fall in love with you again, Lee Minho. 

…

Call me back, when you get the chance. You can keep the shirts for now.

Just please, don’t make me regret this.

liked this work? want to let me know how i did? please like, comment, and/or reblog; they are greatly appreciated my asks are always open ♡

taglist: @linospuddin @linocz @spicyhyunn

ending note: I hope this didn't disappoint. I really tried my best to make it work with all the angst in here :D. I also tried incorporating parallels from Missed Call so hopefully that wasn't too annoying or anything <3

[sidekick-hero]

To die by your side, well the pleasure, the privilege is mine

steddie | rated: t | wc: 2k | written for @steddie-spooktober, prompt: rain | tags: established relationship, fluff, proposal | AO3

Sensations slowly seep into his awareness, even as his mind lingers in the depths of sleep. The light filtering through his closed eyelids tells him it’s already morning, and he can just make out the soft patter of rain falling on the tin roof of the shed in their backyard.

It’s comforting. He’s cocooned in his warm blanket, shielded from the downpour outside, while the comforting weight of Eddie’s arm draped over his waist and the warmth of his body against his back makes him want to stay put. Eddie’s breath is softly ruffling the fine hairs on the nape of his neck, his hand splayed across Steve’s stomach.

It’s amusing how, even after ten years together, they still wake up entwined more often than not. They can't seem to keep their hands off each other, not even in sleep. The thought makes Steve smile, as he’s once again struck by just how much he loves Eddie—and how unbelievably lucky he is to have found someone who, every single day, reassures him that he is loved just as fiercely in return.

With a gentle smile lingering, Steve carefully lifts the blanket and then Eddie’s arm, sliding out of bed without disturbing his boyfriend’s slumber. He stifles a laugh when, after a brief pause, Eddie sprawls across the warm spot Steve left behind.

After finishing his morning routine in the bathroom, Steve pulls on his running shorts and one of Eddie’s old t-shirts. It still carries Eddie's faint scent, and Steve pauses for a moment, eyes closed, breathing it in deeply. Smiling to himself, he scribbles a quick note, out for a run, will bring breakfast, love you, S, and grabs his shoes, keys, and some change from the coffee table.

The rain hasn’t let up, and it takes a bit of willpower to step outside into the downpour. But he knows that once his feet hit the pavement, the discomfort will fade. With one last glance at their warm, cozy house, where Eddie is likely still fast asleep—his face buried in Steve’s pillow, probably drooling all over it—Steve steps out and lets his body fall into the familiar rhythm of the run.

He starts slow, easing into a light jog to wake up his muscles and joints. In his late teens and early twenties, he never needed this kind of warm-up. Back then, he’d just take off running, his feet pounding the pavement with the confidence and energy of someone who seemed built for it—driven, always pushing for more.

Now, he sees his body differently. It’s no longer just a tool for winning trophies or proving his worth as captain of some team. He’s loved without needing to be at the top, and he no longer has to carry weapons to show his strength or devotion. Eddie’s hands and mouth worship every part of him, even the new softness around his middle, and Steve’s hands hold things like cooking spoons, grading pens, Eddie’s hand, his godson, or the book he’s reading to Max and Lucas’ daughter. No weapons.

Still, running is something he’s kept up over the years—not just to stay in shape, though he does appreciate the way it keeps his thighs muscular and his ass firm. His main reason is the peace it brings. Running quiets his mind, helps him sort through his thoughts, and gives him a sense of balance. No matter what the day throws at him, he knows he can always find his center during this hour, just him and the steady rhythm of his feet hitting the ground.

The rain pelts his face and the exposed skin of his arms and legs, but he doesn’t mind anymore. It’s the first day of October, and though the scorching summer days are long behind them, the cold hasn’t fully set in yet. The air is crisp, and mist rises over the treetops in the woods beyond their neighborhood, but twenty minutes into his run, the chill feels more invigorating than uncomfortable. His clothes cling to his damp skin, and his hair drips steadily, but he’s no longer focused on that. Instead, he relishes the steady rhythm of his body moving, his legs carrying him forward while his mind drifts, letting muscle memory take over.

At first, his thoughts had been practical—running through all the things he needed to get done today. He’d promised Luke, Dustin’s son and his godson, help with his Halloween costume. Robin had roped him into assisting with the flea market she’s organizing for the community center, likely in an attempt to impress Susan, her latest crush. Not that Robin would ever admit to having crushes, not at thirty, when they’re both certified adults with 40-hour workweeks. Eddie wanted to hit up the craft store later, something about a secret Halloween project he was working on, and Steve knew he’d regret agreeing to it but couldn’t resist when those big brown eyes worked their magic on him.

Gradually, these thoughts fade away as his feet continue pounding the wet pavement. His mind drifts, as it so often has in the past six months, to the small box hidden beneath their tax documents in a drawer in his office. It’s black, lined with velvet, and inside is a platinum band, engraved with words Dustin had helped him translate. Ae ú-esteliach nad… estelio han. Estelio ammen. When Dustin explained the meaning, Steve knew instantly it was what he wanted Eddie to remember every day, as he fiddled with the ring on his finger. If you trust nothing else, trust this. Trust us.

Steve knows he needs to trust in them too—trust their love enough to ask the question that’s been pressing against his heart since the day Eddie looked at him and said, “I love you, and it scares the shit outta me. But having my heart broken by you? It would still be my pleasure, my privilege to have loved you in the first place.” Steve had kissed him then, not because he didn’t want to say I love you in return, but because there had been more words that had come so close to tumbling out—Marry me. Be mine. Let me be yours. I want to live and die by your side.

He needs to believe that when he finally asks, Eddie will say yes, that they’ll spend the rest of their lives together.

When Steve rounds the corner onto the quiet cul-de-sac where their house sits, a bag of fresh pancakes from their favorite diner in hand, he still hasn’t come to a decision. He knows he wants Eddie to be his husband, whether legally or not. He knows Eddie loves him. They already share a bed, a house, a close circle of friends who feel more like family—a whole life together. Nothing needs to change.

And yet, something holds him back from saying those four simple words: Will you marry me?

Letting himself into the house, he kicks off his wet shoes and places them under the radiator to dry, thankful they'd already turned on the heat. After putting on some coffee, he slips into the shower while it brews, leaving the pancakes warm in the oven. The hot water chases away the lingering chill, and soon he’s dressed in comfortable sweatpants and yet another one of Eddie’s band tees that seem to be scattered around the house.

With a tray full of pancakes, two mugs of coffee, and some sliced fruit and cream, Steve heads upstairs. As he climbs the steps, his gaze falls on the door to his office. On a whim, he steps inside and pockets the little box that has been on his mind all morning.

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” he says when he reaches the bedroom. Eddie is awake, even though his eyes are still closed, but Steve can tell by the change in his breathing and the soft smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Have a nice run?” Eddie mumbles, eyes still shut, but his voice warm with affection. He knows Steve’s routine by heart, always paying attention, no matter how ordinary the details of his day might be.

Steve places the tray on the mattress beside Eddie and reaches out, brushing a few stray strands of hair from his boyfriend’s face. “It was good. Gave me some time to think.”

That gets Eddie to blink his eyes open. “Yeah? About what?”

“You,” Steve says with a smile, leaning down to kiss him.

Eddie hums into the kiss, a contented sound. “Only good things, I hope.”

“Mmhmm,” Steve murmurs in agreement. “I was thinking about your Halloween project—about how much I love the chaos and excitement you bring into my life. And about how great you are with Luke and Leia, and how much I’m looking forward to taking them trick-or-treating with you. I was thinking about how perfect our life is, how happy I am, and how much I want to call you my husband. How I want to celebrate our love with our friends, dance with you to The Smiths. To die by your side—well, the pleasure, the privilege is mine.”

Eddie sits up during Steve’s little speech, his eyes wide and unblinking. The morning light filters into their bedroom, the storm clouds having cleared, leaving the sun to bathe the room in its warmth.

“Stevie, are you… is this…”

Steve pulls the box from his pocket and opens it to reveal the ring inside. “This is me asking you to trust me to make you happy, to love and cherish you every day for the rest of our lives.” He takes Eddie’s trembling hand, kissing the back of it tenderly before looking up at him with his lips still pressed to the soft skin. “Eddie Munson, will you marry me?”

Eddie stays silent, his eyes drinking in the sight of Steve kneeling by the bed, hair still damp and tousled, wearing one of Eddie’s shirts. In that moment, Steve is struck again by how much he wants this for the rest of his life. He takes the ring from the box and places it in Eddie’s palm, eager for him to see the engraving. Those nimble fingers—fingers Steve has felt on his skin countless times, has watched create and hold with such care—gently lift the platinum band. Eddie turns it, inspecting it in the morning light until the sun catches the words inscribed inside.

Leaning closer, Eddie whispers the inscription softly, the foreign words rolling off his tongue in a way that sends a shiver of admiration and desire through Steve.

He repeats the words in English this time. "If you trust nothing else, trust this. Trust us." Eddie looks up from the ring, searching Steve’s gaze. “Oh, Steve. I don’t know what to say. This is…”

Steve has seen Eddie speechless maybe a handful of times in all the years they’ve been together, and never quite like this. It gives him the courage to say, “You could put me out of my misery and just say yes.”

Eddie gapes at him, his mouth opening and closing before he bursts into laughter—a sound so full of joy that it fills the room with warmth.

That finally breaks the spell. Steve barely manages to push the tray aside before Eddie is in his arms, laughing through his words. “Yes, yes, yes, a thousand times yes, you idiot, of course I want to marry you,” he murmurs into Steve’s neck.

The days may be growing colder and darker now, but Steve knows he has all the warmth and light he’ll ever need, right here in his arms—Eddie, trusting him, trusting them to last long after the seasons change once more.

[altruistic-meme]

skk fic rec time !!! 🖤🖤

okay i officially have more skk fics bookmarked on my ao3 than my sister has fics in general bookmarked on hers. so. it is time for another ficrec list by abram, bsd/skk version this time!!!

i have no idea yet how many fics will be on this list. i will go until i decide to stop. but as of right now i have 124 bsd fics bookmarked and i definitely won't be listing all of them so if anyone wants a pt. 2 then i certainly have the material to do that.

i'm not putting warnings with the fics, but bc this is BSD please do take note of tags and warnings that are given! i read a lot of fics with darker material so do be cautious!

One-Shots:

keep you alive, set you on fire by flyby @orbitalflyby (Explicit, 23k) Dazai steps out in a dress and heels for a mission, since the gown won't fit Yosano. He's only supposed to spend an hour or so leading their targets on a dance around a charity gala, but the unexpected arrival of a certain Port Mafia Executive threatens to disrupt all his plans. And when he and Chuuya find themselves finally face to face, they end up entwined in a tense game of mutual provocation...

~

Don't Pull Your Punches by kanekei (Teen and Up Audiences, 5k) Everyone thinks that their partnership is a series of Dazai being a troublemaker while Chuuya is helplessly dragged along for the ride. That couldn’t be farther from the truth. Some days it feels like Dazai is the only one aware of how insane Chuuya actually is. OR: 3 times Dazai cleans up after Chuuya + 1 time he doesn’t bother

~

The 5 Elements of an Apology by artemisiatea (Teen and Up Audiences, 6k) in which dazai learns that change is hard, but accountability is harder

~

Tea Over Rice by the_most_happy (Teen and Up Audiences, 8k) “Oi, Dazai— what would people say if they saw us?” Dazai gave him a puzzled look. “That we’re happy,” he answered. He made it sound simple; he made it sound pure. “They would say we’re happy.” They never stopped being Double Black — just different clothes and less blood on their hands. [Or: What if Dazai and Chuuya escaped the Port Mafia together?]

~

Lost All Judgement by todxrxki (Teen and Up Audiences, 12k) “Uh, sorry, but unfortunately I already have a date to the dance.” “Oh, really?” Tachihara says, sounding disappointed. He pauses for a second, clearly processing what Chuuya’s just told him, and then says, “Who is it?” Chuuya certainly hadn’t budgeted for this. Panicking, he tries to think of the people that he knows that are single, and before he knows it, the first name that comes to mind is slipping out of his mouth. “With Dazai.” / After a momentary lapse in judgment, high school student Chuuya ends up having to pretend to date his enemy Dazai to get Tachihara off of his back - and quickly finds it's nowhere as bad as he'd imagined.

~

oh darling it's alarming to think of us apart (you know you've got me in your pocket) by interludewings (Teen and Up Audiences, 20k) “Okay so if we’re both still single when we’re twenty two,” Dazai’s smile grew even wider. “Let’s marry each other.” By the time Chuuya’s twenty two, he’d probably be in a relationship with someone else, and the possibilities of them even remembering each other were slim to none. And so, Chuuya gave his answer. “Fine, let’s do that.” In short, fifteen year olds Dazai Osamu and Nakahara Chuuya made a stupid promise one day in their school library out of boredom, which leads to the next seven years of their life filled with fighting, burnt notebooks and late night conversations.

~

The Undercover Mission by OldSauk411 (Teen and Up Audiences, 16k) It all started when Atsushi was sent to drop off some papers that the Port Mafia had let them borrow. That was when he saw her, the woman with orange hair and blue eyes standing in the Port Mafia's hallways and talking. She was beautiful if he was being honest. However, after he left, he forgot about her- at least until a few months later, when the ADA and the Port Mafia teamed up for an undercover mission. One that was led by said 'woman'. Aka, Chuuya Nakahara. _____ Or: Atsushi sees a woman from a distance and thinks she's beautiful, up until the Port Mafia and the ADA team up for an undercover mission and it's revealed that the woman was actually Chuuya Nakahara.

~

Nothing but your spine by osamuchuu (Mature, 6k) “Oi, Dazai. We’re here.” Chuuya reached into the car to shake Dazai’s shoulders a bit, rearranging his coat to lay over the man’s back. Dazai swayed and blinked up at him. Whatever painkillers he’d been given had stolen the sharpness from his face. Dazai looked fifteen again, wide-eyed and vulnerable. And then he smiled. He smiled and Chuuya’s heart stuttered because it was so fucking real, so small and different from all the painted faces he wore now. This was dangerous.

~

strange loyalties by finalizer @tarmairons (Mature, 13k) “The Agency dorms are being fumigated,” Dazai explained cheerfully. “So, I offered—Atsushi can stay with us.” Or: Atsushi's observations from inside Yokohama's strangest household.

[sidenote: this is actually a sequel fic and while i loved the first one, this one really just took me to a whole other plane of existence which is why it's the one on the rec list. i do also rec the first one though!]

~

Yokohama public High School- almost as crazy as their pep rallies by BlowingYourMind (General Audiences, 20k) "The slacks! They're way too tight on him! Exactly no teachers ass should be like that, the students may be offended-" "Dazai, I think you're the only one that notices, and maybe refrain from eyeing up your co-workers like that-" "But how can I not!" Dazai huffed "It's right there in front of my face, it's hideous!" Oda sighed. he was just an average man with an average job gaining an average salary, but he would need to find a way to help Dazai and his obvious crush on Chuuya Nakahara before he lost his sanity. Or The story of how Chemistry teacher Dazai Osamu fell helplessly for coach Nakahara Chuuya, and the student body's many attempts to get them together.

~

If you refuse to listen I'll say it twice, love of my life by olympiansally @olympiansally (Mature, 15k) There’s Atsushi, Dazai’s star pupil. There’s Fyodor, arguably Dazai’s soulmate, a single mind in two bodies. There’s Kunikida, Dazai’s partner. There’s Oda, the reason Dazai wants to live. And then there’s Chuuya. If he asked Dazai to define him, to name his purpose, Chuuya already knows what he would hear. Chuuya is his dog, Chuuya is a slug, Chuuya is a chibi. And sure, maybe he is. But none of that is enough. Or, Chuuya can’t figure out what he means to Dazai exactly, but if he would only listen, he would realize that Dazai has been telling him all along.

~

In the throes of Corruption by BlowingYourMind (Teen and Up Audiences, 7k) Dazai’s ability ‘No longer human’ ironically made Chuuya human. It stripped him of the god that set his insides to flame and wreaked havoc. Corruption was terrible to Chuuya but Dazai’s touch never was. Or Five times Dazai helps Chuuya through the throes of Corruption.

~

hide the truth by writingfromtheshadows (Not Rated, 24k) When Chuuya wakes up in the middle of an ongoing fight without any memory of how he got there or what happened to him, he ends up turning to someone saved as 'bandage-waster' in his phone. Somehow, it just feels like the right decision.

~

Dream a little dream of me by BlowingYourMind (Teen and Up Audiences, 9k) "What would you like to dream of, Chuuya?" Dazai asked, and his partner shifted in the bed before settling down. "I dunno idiot, you pick." Dazai hummed, "I believe I can arrange that." Chuuya's eyelashes fluttered against Dazai's palm as Dazai continued to speak, voice turning into a whisper as he spoke late into the night. Or Chuuya can't dream, and Dazai has a soloution that quickly turns into a routine between the two of them.

~

Multichapter fics (all complete)

in the mirror, i bloom by ephemeralis (Teen and Up Audiences, 12k, 2/2) It twists him, turns him, curls in his chest like something alive, something he knows but can’t dare to name. Chuuya curses the red-black petals that fall from his lips, these nearly rotten things that tear him apart from the inside out. Part of him wants to rip his own traitorous heart out, through a ribcage shattered by feelings he can’t contain. Anger is easy, a thing he’s learned to control. This— whatever the hell this is— is not. Or at least it’s easier to feel as though this is beyond his own control, because Chuuya is not in love. (It feels like a lie even to himself.) After he's hit by a strange ability, Chuuya is forced to consider truths he'd much rather keep hidden- but not everything is as simple it seems.

[sidenote: this was the first bsd fic i ever read and HOOOOLLY CRAP what a beautiful way to join the fandom. i've reread this fic several times since. stunning.]

~

where your loyalties lie by writingfromtheshadows (Explicit, 163k, 20/20) Loyalty is the foundation of the yakuza code, something that was drilled into Chuuya at an early age. However, his lessons did not cover how to manage a political marriage with his organization's oldest rival.

~

Inseparable by milwritsecausewhynot (Teen and Up Audiences, 107k, 21/21) Best friends is too simple a term to squash the entire dynamic of Dazai Osamu and Nakahara Chuuya within. Sure, they’ve known each other since they were children, and they’re each other’s #1 on their best friend lists on Snapchat, and Chuuya’s been seen one too many times in his hoodies. People have also noticed how Dazai’s main muse for his volunteer hobby of polaroid photographer is the redhead himself. But the pranks they pull on each other isn’t much of a ‘best friend’ thing to do. Especially when one of the pranks get pulled so far, That Chuuya is forbidden from seeing Dazai ever again. And though he sees no good coming from such a forced separation, the one thing that can enhance their futures together is propelled forward at a faster speed than either of them could have ever imagined: Coming to terms with their unusual feelings for each other.

~

Do I Get My Worthless Reward Yet? by World_Ender22 (Teen and Up Audiences, 40k, 10/10) Chuuya has always been certain of two things: he is going to die young, and it will be Corruption that kills him. So when the Boss orders him to use his Corrupted form without an out, he is neither surprised nor distressed. He simply does what he's told. When Dazai learns that the whole thing is a ploy to make him rejoin the Mafia, he plans to beat Mori at his own game... starting with convincing Chuuya to join the Armed Detective Agency. / Soukoku

~

When I Awake by wildflowertea @wildflowerteas (Mature, 235k, 23/23) Dazai Osamu has been in a coma for exactly one year, seven months, and twenty-two days. But Death still refuses to take him. Trapped in the space between worlds, and unable to die, Dazai waits, killing what precious time he may have left and hoping—praying—that his family will pull the plug and move on. He doesn't expect someone to move into his old apartment instead. Nakahara Chuuya, two-time Grammy awards winner, and freshly unemployed pessimist, has never believed in fate—much less the supernatural. But the lively—if a bit annoying—ghost of his apartment's previous tenant, might just change everything.

~

hopelessly devoted by soukocacola (Explicit, 188k, 18/18) "Get your grades up." Oda tells him. "Then we'll talk." Well, Dazai thinks. If he's going to be miserable, the least he can do is make Chuuya miserable, too. Maybe then Chuuya will ditch him and Dazai can fail out of college with no regrets. 

~

His Prized Experiment by fauxtales @fauxfroot (Mature, 94k, 18/18) "As terrifying as it could be, there was something just so freeing in using Corruption. It is, after all, his strongest state. No one can harm him when he uses Corruption; he is all but invincible. There are days when he lets himself dream. There is the part of him wondering if that’s just the god or his instincts trying to convince him to unleash pure chaos and destruction on the world, but that thought is easy enough to push away. He has no control in that state after all." As a teenager, Chuuya is subjected to experiments at Mori's hand in an attempt to find a way to control Corruption. Now, years later, Mori has decided it's time to revisit the experiments. Dazai is having none of it. But can they really leave their entire life behind?

~

death offers no absolution by Zairielon (Mature, 62k, 10/10) After so many years in the Port Mafia, Chuuya thought he couldn't be phased by anything - that he had carried out the worst orders that would ever be given to him. Then he sees things he never saw before. He sees horror, cruelty, needless suffering. He sees death in every step he takes. Chuuya is only human, too. Eventually, he breaks. OR, Chuuya leaves the Port Mafia and attempts to escape his bloodstained past.

~

from a to o, i love you so by anticide @anticidic (Explicit, 22k, 3/3) Here they were dancing a dangerous tango and crossing lines and blurring boundaries that neither Fukuzawa nor Mori would take kindly to. Dazai was supposed to have gotten over Chuuya, not melted in his embrace and bound them together for an eternity. (Or: Dazai and Chuuya's unconventional relationship sparks a radical change within Dazai when he wakes up one day under the weather and feeling very, very off.)

~

My Body is Your Body (I Won't Tell Anybody) by thereweregiants (Explicit, 26k, 2/2) Thanks to a rogue ability user, Dazai and Chuuya find themselves switching bodies. ...yeah, there's no way this ends well.

~

Mission - Entrancing Armed Detective Agency by cocktailjjrs (Teen and Up Audiences, 105k, 12/12) “Charming? Have you finally started dreaming now?” Dazai turned to face his longtime partner again “Say what you want, asshole, but people like me better anyway” Chuuya ignored the jab at his lack of dreams, only shrugging in response. “I can bet anything in this world that you can’t be liked by everyone. Your efforts will be fruitless by the end of the day” “Wanna bet?” Chuuya smirked “You’re on!” Dazai returned the smirk “I’ll tell you who your target will be” . . . In which, Dazai and Chuuya are upto their old shenanigans and make a bet. As a result - Bonds are formed, secrets are revealed, money is spent, devious plans are concatenated; someone gets drugged, someone gets punched, someone gets a wakeup slap. And Chuuya's 'brute' image is at imminent risk. All of this - to with the bet!

~

Prey to Your Instincts by skylorr (Mature, 98k, 8/8) He was a beta. He was normal. Barely any scent, no cycles, no mating instincts. Just plain old normal. At least, that’s what he thought. He thought he was normal. But instead, Dazai is currently curled up on his single mattress in the shipping container that he calls home as he sweats profusely and struggles through cramps, pains, and the desire to nest. His mattress has a single thin blanket, which apparently does not satisfy the omega instincts trying to claw their way out of his mind. He was so close, too; days away from his 17th birthday, the birthday that would have officially made him a beta. Hope is a killer disease.

[sidenote: there is also a sequel to this fic that i recommend just as much! it's still a WIP <3]

~

Illustrations of Lying by writingfromtheshadows (Mature, 49k, 20/20) It is more difficult, perhaps, to bear with fortitude the little daily trails of life, than great calamities, because we summon up all our spiritual and moral strength to resist the latter...  Upon faced with the culmination of Mori's plan, Dazai does not go to Odasaku's side. Instead, he relieves Mori of his duties.

~

i'll bleed out for you by StarshipDancer @neonganymede (Mature, 75k, 7/7) What a shitty way to die.... Less than forty-eight hours ago, they’d been impaled together, and Chuuya had feared that the broken metal pole had pinned him in place against a corpse. Now, he worried that a corpse sat next to him, nothing more than a poorly-crafted imitation of his ex-partner. ... And what an even shittier situation to be stuck in. Or, A mission goes wrong, and Soukoku die together. Except, they don't, but now they're stuck in a safe house pretending that they did. And if Chuuya wants to find out what went wrong with Dazai's plan, he'll first have to find a way around the wall of silence that his former partner has built to keep him out.

~

Cigarette Game by chowderpuff (Teen and Up Audiences, 9k, 2/2) Chuuya has a crush on Dazai. Dazai knows this, and he thinks it’s a prime opportunity to mess with his partner a little. After all, why not? Chuuya’s reactions to his flirting are priceless, a new little bonus feature to the game between them, and Dazai actually starts to find it more entertaining than outright arguing. It’s all harmless fun until Dazai realizes that he has feelings too. Then it's decidedly not.

[ author's tumblrs are tagged when i could find them! if you know one who wasn't tagged or if you're an author and would like to be untagged, let me know! ]

[nahoney22]

Hello darling!

I’d love if you wrote a NSFW fic with Tech or Wrecker.

Maybe you’d be coming home from a bad day at work and a bad fight with your parents and he comforts you and makes you forget your troubles with some soft sex. Lots of praise and pleasure. Maybe some overstimulation??

Only if you have the time of course!! If you’ve already written something like this, I’ll scour the master list

Many thanks lovely!!

Gentleness***

Wrecker X F!Reader

word count: 1.6k

After visiting your parents, you brain is fried with their words and demands of wanting you to have a different path in life. So when you return to your boyfriend, Wrecker, you crave some much needed TLC.

warnings: NSFW, 18+ only. Explicit sexual content and language. Soft smut, cunnilingis, praises, overstimulation, established relationship, aftercare and female reader. A little bit angsty, mentions of arguing with parents.

authors note: I chose to do Wrecker because I’ve not wrote for him in a hot minute and I feel like this is Wrecker coded. Sorry for the wait @originalcollectionartistry ✨🤍

With a raspy throat and misty eyes, you approach the Marauder following what was meant to be a pleasant reunion with your parents, only to unravel into a heated debate about your life choices. Are you old enough? Mature enough? In their eyes, the exhilaration of navigating the galaxy with a band of rogue Clones was an unacceptable life for their daughter. They envisioned a different path—one confined to a desolate planet, toiling behind a counter in a dreary little shop.

You yearned for their support, but some convictions remain unaltered. It had been this way for many years and each time you see them, you think they would change their minds.

Outside the Marauder, you collect yourself, wiping away tears and clearing your throat before boarding.

However, the usual clamor had subsided this evening, leaving you in solitude momentarily. Yet, a yearning for your boyfriend lingers.

Thinking you've found respite, you settle into the cockpit, allowing tears to cascade. With your head in your hands and fingers entwined in your hair in frustration, your sobs echo in the silence. Unbeknownst to you, the familiar and resounding footsteps approach, shattering the quiet.

"I thought I heard ya—hey, what's wrong, babe?" Wrecker swiftly joins you, crouching beside you and tenderly placing a hand on your thigh.

Peering at him through your hands, you manage a smile amid the tears and emit a soft sniffle. "I'm fine, just parents."

A frown creases Wrecker's brow. "I thought you were looking forward to seeing them?" he asks.

"Yeah, until they started bombarding me about what they think I should be doing with my life," you groan, swiping away your tears once more and straightening up. "Just annoyed."

Wrecker offers a sympathetic smile, planting a gentle kiss on your cheek. "Did they, um, mention anythin’ about me?" His hand grazes the back of your neck, prompting a playful eye-roll from you.

Fortunately, your parents did inquire about Wrecker. Your relationship with him wasn't exactly a secret after their initial meeting, which left a favorable impression. That much you were thankful for.

"They just asked about how you were and all," you mention, crossing your arms and leaning back against the chair's headrest. "But... they still disapprove of me traveling with you all. They want me to stay home and work for them."

Wrecker tilts his head, his brow knitting together. "Is that what ya want?"

"Absolutely not, Wreck," you declare. "I just wish they could understand that this is the path I've chosen."

Wrecker stands tall and concerned above you. “Well I’m glad you're still here,” he says, a gentle smile tugging at your lips in response. Yet, he's not entirely convinced. “Is there anything I can do?”

Initially stumped, you gaze up at him, taking in his towering presence, his striking features, and suddenly, a longing for something, anything, wells up within you. "Honestly?"

"Yeah, anything!" His smile widens, noticing a glimmer of light returning to your eyes.

As you stand before Wrecker, your voice carries a hint of vulnerability. "I want you to love me."

Confusion knits Wrecker's brow. "But you know I already do? Don't you?"

You let out a soft, tender laugh at his innocent bewilderment. Your hands trail up his sturdy arms, tracing the contours of his broad chest before delicately cradling his cheeks. Your fingertips brush over the rough, scarred tissue, as you gaze deeply into his eyes. "Yes, but I want you to love me," you express, your voice filled with longing and an unspoken yearning for more.

He’s silent now, but he understands what you mean as his eyes spark with interest.

With such a gentleness, he took your hands away from his face, starting to trail soft kisses up your arms until he seals his lips over yours, drawing you in.

You let him take the lead, keening into his touch as his hands begin to pull the clothes away from your body, his large hands gently kneading at your soft, nude flesh as his tongue dances with yours.

It’s not long until he has you wrapped around his waist, carrying you through the ship until he lays you down on his bunk, warm breath waltzing against your skin.

Soft moans begin to part your lips as Wrecker kneels at the foot of the bunk, your legs spread and balancing over his shoulders as he slips a finger between your folds. Your increasing arousal helps Wrecker to move his digit up and down before he gathers your slick on his fingers, using it as lubricant to rub at your swelling clit.

You choke on a groan, knees subconsciously closing around his head but Wrecker doesn’t mind, infact, it spurs him on as you start to gently roll your hips to his touch. He encourages you, keeping a steady pace as he places kisses to the inside of your thighs as he works at your clit with intent, yet gentle.

Your legs start to tremble, chewing on your lower lip as Wrecker lets out a satisfied growl of pleasure as you grind down on his hand, slipping a finger inside you and curling it as he gently thrusts. “That’s it pretty girl, take what ya need.”

“S-So good Wrecker… you’re so good to me.” You whine, toes curling as he maintains a steady momentum.

“Of course I am, I always will be,” he rasps, eyes fixated on your glistening pussy, “let it go, cum for me. I’ve got ya.”

Your eyes are seeing stars, stars more beautiful than those through space as your body becomes rigid and your breathing becomes heavy. Then, you cry out his name, your orgasm shooting through you as you ride out the pleasure against his hand. “That’s it, you did so well.” He cooes. “That was a lot.”

A happy sigh parts your lips but Wrecker didn’t stop there. “Do you think you can cum again sweetie? I think you can.” He cooed as he placed soft kisses to your thighs before his warm breath fans over your tingling pussy.

Naturally your hips bucked as his tongue glides over your folds, licking up the residue of before and melts as he whines softly at the taste of you. You squirm, getting a bit too overstimulated but a part of you wanted more, you wanted to fight against it and let Wrecker continue to have a taste of you.

“Don’t worry,” he purrs, sensing the struggle between wanting another orgasm and for him to stop teasing at your pulsating cunt, “I will take extra good care of you if you are a good girl and cum on my tongue.”

Your blood runs hot, his praises alone almost making you hit your high. Softly, you hold onto the back of his head, grinding your hips on his tongue as he delves his tongue against your stimulated clit, the burn now desirable.

His large arms wrap under your thighs, bringing you even closer to his face than before, chuckling into your pussy as you let out a wanton cry of pleasure. Your hands move to the sheets on the bunk, gripping as if for dear life as he laps eagerly at you, sucking and flicking his tongue expertly against your sweet sex. “Oh f-fuck! Wreck..!”

“Say my name again sweetie, let me know how much I’m pleasing ya.”

You were blessed to be laying down because if you were standing there was no way you would’ve been able to hold yourself up. “Wrecker, you’re so good at this.”

Again, he chuckles, sending vibrations through you that have your toes curling as your cunt becomes numb. As your moans become louder, you knew you were close again. Wrecker groans as he slips his tongue into your pussy, feeling you clench around his tongue that has you soaring into the galaxy.

“Your moans are so perfect, baby. You’ve done so, so good for me.” He pulls away, catching his breath and you almost sob at the sight of your juices around his grinning mouth before he moves his hand back to your core and lets his fingers strum rapidly against your clit.

It’s too much and somewhat not enough either. His name runs past your lips like a mantra all the while he ushers words of praise. “That’s it, good girl. Cum again.”

One part of your brain makes you squirm away from his touch, finding it unbearable but the other half craves for the intensity of another orgasm. “It’s too sensitive Wrecker,” you moan, knuckles turning white as you grip onto the sheets.

“I know baby but I know you can do it. Let it go, you’ll feel so much better.” For someone so loud his words were so quiet and soft yet laced with pure filth. You’re hot, the stimulation relentless and it’s not until his mouth is back on your clit when your climax finally hits.

“O-o-oh stars!” you whimper as your orgasm rakes through you and onto his mouth and chin, your whole body tingling now. He continues to lick your pussy, collecting every ounce of your high before he stands, wipes his mouth and chin and pulls you into his arms as he sits on the edge of the bunk with you.

“That’s how it’s done, sweetie. Well done.” He cooed, stroking a hand through your sweat covered hair, “was that enough?”

You give him a dazed, dopey grin and nod. “It was perfect.” You sigh happily, resting your forehead into his chest as he cradles your nude body. “Thank you for this.”

“Like I said, I’d do anything.”

Masterlist

Ko-fi if you wanna buy me a coffee ☕️

More Wrecker Works

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[an-idyllic-novelist]

Hi, I’m the one who asked for a fluff request yesterday. And, you told me to request on this blog.

would it be possible to request for a fluff ares x reader where he has a massive crush on the reader but he’s too shy to admit it bcs she’s just so perfect and she’s sought after by many gods. Lucky for him, she has a crush on him as well?

And once again, I apologize if it’s too much to ask :)

Hi! I did make a couple of changes to the scenario, but I hope you will like this rendition of Ares with a haganzeuka!fem!reader :)

Special thanks to @radioactivesweet for bouncing off ideas to me and @yellow-snark for being honest with their feedback!

Ares adored Aphrodite. From the moment he set his gaze upon her that fateful day in Mount Olympus, they were fated to be together. Love and War, forever entwined even when their tumultuous relationship had been fractured over and over for centuries, finding comfort in the arms of others. But now…well, Ares was tired. He had long since grown weary of the goddess’ vanity and manipulations, especially the former.

Why would she still get into an argument with Athena, Freya, or any other goddess on who is the most beautiful being in the universe, he had no idea. Had his opinion not been enough? He wooed her with gifts, sang praises of her loveliness and dedicated any victories in his battles to her.  And yet it still wasn’t enough for her, who wanted the entire world, nay, the universe to kneel at her feet. 

Henceforth, he and Aphrodite were no longer romantically involved. Strangely enough, instead of isolating himself from the Greek pantheon to lament the loss of Aphrodite’s affection, his sorrow was soon forgotten when his armorer [First Name] arrived at the steps of his temple, asking if she may enter. She was here to deliver his spear and the new custom-made gauntlets that Ares ordered to replace his old ones. 

As an apprentice who worked in Hephaestus’ workshop, [First Name] was allowed to have the other gods as clients but never to aid him in his projects without explicit permission. Even after all of these centuries, Aphrodite’s husband is still a picky artist. 

The war god immediately allowed her to come inside, instructing his guest to leave her offering of plum wine in front of his statue before following him inside further into the temple. The wind chimes attached to her wide brimmed hat created a pleasant ‘ching’ sound as she walked down the marble hallway in her sandaled feet. It made [First Name] less…intimidating. 

Her fashion sense wasn’t horrid per se, though she did appear intimidating with the lower half of her face concealed by a bronze mask shaped in the muzzle of a Chinese guardian dog. Her [Hair Color] tresses were either pulled back and tucked under a black handkerchief or let loose because she had been too focused on her craft that she forgot to take care of herself again. 

Although Ares had expected the armorer to immediately leave once he was satisfied with his equipment, she stayed with him for a bit longer. She did not talk much; she was more of a listener, and she listened to him talk about Aphrodite, then rant about other things until he saw Apollo’s chariot ride across the blue hazy skies. He apologized profusely for taking up her time, but [First Name] brushed it off with a small smile and said to contact her again if he needed anything else done for him or his men before exiting the temple. 

It was after the armorer left that Ares noticed a cluster of pretty stones sitting right next to the offering. He didn’t know why or how…but the war god supposed that was when he began falling for her. 

Like everyone else in Olympus.

But this time, he had an advantage over his competition. Ares knew what she liked and disliked, even what day of the week when Hephaestus' workshop was not too busy to drop in for a surprise visit...only to discover that his sweet little armorer had an incredibly short temper as he did.

“HOW DARE YOU LOSE YOUR SWORD, YOU FOOL?! DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW LONG IT TOOK ME TO LOOK FOR THE CAVE THAT POSSESS AN EXTREMELY DURABLE ORE, WHICH MIGHT PREVENT YOUR SWORD FROM BREAKING AFTER WHAT HAPPENED LAST TIME?!  FOUR MONTHS OF SEARCHING, GONE TO WASTE! THAT’S IT! DIE! DIE TEN THOUSAND TIMES AND REFLECT ON YOUR ACTIONS!!” [First Name] roared, [Eye Color] orbs glowing in fury as she chased after the terrified client around the workshop with a cleaving knife, ignoring everything and everyone else around her. 

Including him.

Ares sighed softly, glancing down at the bouquet and the bag of sweets he was carrying. Perhaps he should have gotten mitarashi dango instead of cupcakes? She loved sweets, but which one would calm her down long enough for him to profess his desire to court her?

[kalena-henden]

(Pandora's) Box provided sage guides in the form of love interests. As I mentioned previously, Hongjo was able to open the box by saying, "Please, can you come?", out loud while thinking about Jaekyung being there to help her. With all of the questioning he's done both to Hongjo and Shinyu regarding their relationship and the preview next week showing that he's been told about the love spell, I realized he is the guide for their relationship to make themselves ask the hard questions, reflect on what they truly feel and lead them to action towards each other. Jaekyung is there to help her just like she magically asked. After she first opened the box, Jaekyung rejected her love confession, even though we learn later that he does indeed like her but feels he's too cold and odd to be good for her. However, Jaekyung's rejection is the very thing that compels her to cast the first spell to begin her journey towards her fate that is entwined with Shinyu. Even in this, Jaekyung was unknowingly her guide to help her do exactly what she needed to do at the right time.

It may be a cruel fate for a sage guide to be a love interest (almost as cruel as it is to be a Second Male Lead) but people need a reason to care for and meddle in someone else's life. If you're not family, a longtime friend or co-worker, or a wise old person sought out for advice then love interest is most reasonable choice. But I did say sage guides, plural, because there is another one.

Kim Wook (forever Imoogi in our hearts) has unwittingly become a sage guide for Shinyu's parents. With the opening of (Pandora's) box, all hell has broken loose and whatever curse was put on their family is in flux. It appears the curse could be temporarily curbed if you truly fall in love as Shinyu's parents did since his mom was an actress and not the normal choice for a respectable rich wife. They noted at the beginning how his dad and grandfather were bucking the trend in not dying young. It was also interesting how his father met with Nayeon separately to convince her to stay by his son's side despite the fact that he broke up with her. I'm sure this was in an attempt to save his son's life by keeping Shinyu's love by his side to curb the curse. Though he doesn't know Shinyu and Nayeon have never truly loved each other.

Which brings us back to Shinyu's parents' marriage falling apart after the box was opened because their love is entwined with the family curse. It is likely that with Shinyu's mom's love wavering for her husband, his health will start to rapidly decline. His stomach being too upset to go stargazing with his wife might have been the start of it. While their fate is tied to the outcome of whether Shinyu and Hongjo's relationship is able to break the curse, they also have their own things to work through in parallel. And like Hongjo, Shinyu's mom called up her own sage guide to help with her issues in lawyer and potential love interest Kim Wook, whom she's now running into coincidentally as well.

The Villainess Trio. Our villains are now emerging. From the beginning we had the horrible Haum Construction CEO Lee Hyunseo, now back and making shady deals with Onju's corrupt mayor, who is also the father of Nayeon, Shinyu's two-faced, vain girlfriend who's in charge of the latest Onju city project they are all working on. Shinyu left his prestigious law firm to fight corporate corruption, especially against Haum. This will now pit him directly against his girlfriend and her father.

Which bring us to their past lives and the origin of the curse. It's safe to say that the past is repeating itself with a chance to change the outcome in the present since this is clearly a reincarnation story. This means many people from the past are together in the present, including the villains who won the first time around. Nayeon joked that she was a princess in a past life. With her father mayor in the present, it would not be shocking if her father was previously a king and his daughter a princess, desperate to get her way and marry a handsome nobleman, Shinyu in his past life. He wasn't interested in her so she had a shaman put a curse on him, that he needed to fall in love to survive. Only to be thwarted by Shinyu falling in love with a court lady, Hongjo in her past life. So Princess Nayeon had her father's loyal henchman, Haum CEO in his past life, kill Court Lady Hongjo, who died in the arms of her love, Nobleman Shinyu, reaching up to caress his cheek with her bloody hand to comfort him with her final breaths. But after Court Lady Hongjo died, he still refused Princess Nayeon and died young. Unfortunately, the curse didn't just apply to him but included his entire family line. Obviously this a speculation, but I've seen enough reincarnation stories to have a rough notion of how this plays out. Facts are that Shinyu has been dreaming about his past life, saw and chased a vision of Hongjo in a court lady hanbok through the Changdeokgung Palace, and has a comforting bloody hand of one whom he killed haunting him because of his family's death curse. The rest we'll find out soon enough.

[sharpace]

Hi! Can you please enlighten me about the divorce era in crank it universe? Will they have a divorce and reunion there? And if yes, will you draw it?

Hello!! Yes, I can!

ABOUT THE DIVORCE ERA

The short of it is it’s meant to reflect the canon “Divorce Era” between Jayce and Viktor but… like ridiculous and sad.

The long of it, Jayce and Viktor grow in their success and eventually turn their little computer building and gaming (mostly gaming channel) into a company proper. With the new resources and sudden stress, their relationship slowly chipped away until all that was left was resentment and moving through the motions and… a really explosive fight that lead to the separation. But for the sake of comedy, they live across the hall from each other and refuse to be the one who signs for the divorce so they never sign but keep instigating paperwork at one another.

WILL THEY REUNITE?

They will reunite! I think the divorce era was the result of realizing you got together quickly and young and then proceeded to spend over a decade 24/7 together without ever hashing out what “helping kids like we were” truly definitively meant. So the time apart was needed to create an individual identity and untangle their life goals from one another. But the relationship would look a lot different than it looks in Crank It since one of my “rules” for writing Crank It is they “love each other no matter what” with the intent that they’re entwined in each other 24/7 even when only one appears. Whereas I think the reunion era would be more blunt, mature, and generally like two individuals coexisting instead of two people existing as one.

WILL YOU DRAW IT?

Oh ho! A tricky question. Yes and no. So I do really love microwaving the Divorce Era (and I love draw them as old cranky men) and I have some written pieces and comics BUT Crank It is such a safe space for so many people, that I wouldn’t want to cross them over and jettison everyone into weekly angst.

However!

Any comics I’ve made, are available to members on my Ko-Fi and I am working on an illustrated timeline of the divorce era going through the major moments starting from their wedding day all the way to their reunion. This will also go up on my Ko-Fi. I’m debating on how I want to release it so 👀 I’d recommend keeping an eye out for when that official announcement rolls through.

And some old men for you! Thanks!

[multiplicationdivision]

Jackson loved the state NCBA meeting.

Every rancher from across the state gathering in some backwoods town in Arizona. Owners and shareholders flocking together to discuss price rates and production and wages. Jackson represented his local union, making himself vocal for their rights and fair wages. Knowing deep in his heart and soul the wants and needs of every man he represented.

You see, Jackson didn’t exist for most of the year.

Every fourth friday of every third month, the cowboys of Jacksonville, Arizona gather for beers after work. They’d slam a few with each other, getting well and good wasted as they celebrated the coming weekend.

Drunken rough housing and wrestling would become more physical as they wandered to one of the many empty barns. Pushing and laughing, men with girlfriends or even wives letting it all be forgotten as their camaraderie escalated to something much much more.

Their Union organizer Hunter would start with their new hires, the younger men confused and intoxicated by the energy of the group. There was nothing closer than this Union and they would be taught that.

Hunter would embrace them, holding them stable as he stripped them of their clothes. Men who had never been touched by another man now eagerly allowing him to slowly insert himself into them. Rough rhythm losing its weight as they found themselves melting together.

Hunter melding with the new recruits, showing them the incredible worth of their union dues. Their faces merging together into a composite that was so much more handsome than the man they were apart. The new man hardly waiting a second after he became stable to grab and insert himself into the next man, all while the crowd of well experienced men cheered him on.

It would go on like that for hours, Jackson slowly gathering his parts as he absorbed more and more men into his being. Collecting the excited men who were happy to become him again, happy to be Jackson.

At the end of the night, with only Steven left, Jackson smiled. Steven was a thirty year old farmhand who’d made an impact on every man that Jackson was. A handsome man who always had the time, always there when they needed extra muscle or a competent hand.

The younger men all wanted to be him, jacked and rugged. It left Jackson needing the same, holding down this integral part of his soul and body as he reintegrated him. Feeling Steven’s skin meld into his muscles entwining together. Kissing the man as their heads merged together, the memories and personality of Steven joining with the rest of his Union in perfect unity.

Jackson would lay there on the ground, amidst a straw floor covered in barn clothes and boots. Panting as he savored himself, the new parts of himself loving his strength and body as the old parts of himself rejoiced at having it again. Taking his time as he searched the barn’s mass of clothing for something that would fit his new frame. He’d look at himself in the mirror later and study how his face had changed since last month. Staring long and hard before he took one of his many trucks down to the site of the meeting. Check himself into a motel and enjoy the night.

He got real work done during those meetings, an absolute juggernaut for improving the conditions that he experienced in a hundred lives every day. Shane’s boots and Cliff’s jeans settled comfortably on him as he walked with more confidence than anyone on the floor. Using his lifetimes of experience to easily sweet talk and intimidate for what he wanted Then at night, he would use that same experience to reward himself for time well spent, with whatever his eclectic mess of sexualities desired at the time.

This time wasn’t just for the financial benefit of the many pieces of Jackson, but for the relationships. Jackson loved himself and put the time and work into making that known each time he came into being. Jackson loving himself was the Union loving each other, as brothers, friends and lovers.

When the meeting concluded, Jackson would drive home singing their favorite country songs. He didn’t fear his inevitable separation, he loved living every separate life inside of him. He’d be back anyways, sooner rather than later.

Union elections were coming up, and who better to choose than Jackson himself.

Photo by @ricardolima

[silvery-bluish]

Tell us about Ars, Danny, and Ricardo? What are they like together? Does Ars act differently around Danny as they do Ric? Where do they all stand at the end of Retri?

Haha oh we’re inviting walltext. Sorry for the delay, this took me a few days to write out LOL dropping it beneath a cut bc it's pretty long.

tldr: ricardo means a lot to them and has always meant a lot to them, but theyre real bad at communicating. Daniel makes them better at communicating in some ways but they're very aware they fucked that up before it started. They're stuck in Ortega's apartment and theyre gonna implode dramatically.

Arsinoe and Ricardo have the weight of their past behind them, the 8-odd years of being at its complicate (with a break to be presumed dead) has comfort to it, Ricardo’s part of their normal, it’s like falling back into orbit when they’re near him. But there’s lots of things left unsaid, undefined, unclarified, because they felt they COULDNT in the old days and they certainly feel like they can’t now. Which is part of why they spend most of Retri avoiding him, whoops.

I think Ricardo’s afraid to push them too hard to clarify, these days, bc that might make them run again, and he wasn’t ready to push for things like publicly officially dating, in the Sidestep days. They trust each other in ways that are practically automatic at this point. They’d die for each other. They keep assuming they’re on the same page when they’re in entirely different books.

Arsinoe and Daniel sure don’t have that inertia behind them, so in some ways it’s easier to talk plainly? Daniel’s earnest bluntness and mental openness make Ars answer in kind. It's easier, smaller, maybe, for now, not as entwined as their relationship is with Ricardo, but that's safer, in some ways? They like his determination, his Decision to see the best in people.

They do have the, uh, fact that Arsinoe is So Very Aware that they fucked up his knee at the gala, because at the time he hadn't made it to the list of people they give a shit about and they'd decided that hurting him was the fastest way to be sure he wouldn't get in their way again. Whoops. This affects their interaction with him in two main ways-- they're pretty constantly worrying that they're taking advantage of the fact that he doesn't know - which is also kinda true - and they're hyperaware of not wanting to hurt him again, in a way that means they probably back off a little too fast when they're training which probably makes Daniel think they're going easy on him, sometimes?

So. They won't commit to anything real and firm and solid with either of them, because Arsinoe is very aware that the villain situation means anything they're building right now is going to inevitably fall apart except oops! car crash!! ortega knows theyre a regene and the world didnt end! Arsinoe's staying in Ortega's apartment, because it would feel like taking too much advantage of Daniel to stay in his apartment, and they don't want to leave Los Diablos to get to the Ranch, and Ricardo's apartment has been something like safe for them before so maybe it's safe now--

(They're rapidly running out of excuses to avoid talking about their relationships. I want them to villain reveal before they get anything firmed up relationship-wise, because they are-- very stressed out about building something they want and having it ripped away from them, inevitably. Safer not to name it. Probably going to accidentally imply to the guys theyre ready for a poly relationship talk and then actually hit them with the villain reveal. Sorry All.)

[angrelysimpping]

Man, this one is so fucking mushy

Also! This is Danny's biggest fantasy :3

Warnings: outdoor sex; extra mush; mentions of being caught; mentioned past: age gap relationships, cheating, death, abduction, noncon, possession

M!OC x friend's M!OC uwu

Aksel and Joaquim belong to 💜@inkyquince💜

Words: ~1.1k

Danny was young, in the grand scheme of things. He knew that. He knew that when he bedded a 60-year-old man. He knew that when his parents died and left him pretty much on his own. He knew that when he felt like his life was crashing down around him when he found his only monogamous relationship was crumbling because of cheating. 

He knew when he delved deep into the occult. He knew when a voice whispered in his ear how to carve out a better life for himself. He knew when he picked his target, when he lured that man into a secluded building, when he painted the room red with blood.  

Young. Too young. Too young to get possessed. Too young to get kidnapped. Too young to get tortured and assaulted, over and over. Too young to feel Aksel's teeth in his neck or cock carving out his insides. 

Just 22, whole life ahead of him. 

But, this was definitely the best fucking day of his life. 

"God, f-fuck, you feel so fucking good." Danny's words are slurred, legs locked around Joaquim’s hips and back pressed against cool grass as he's fucked into. 

One of those lovely hands is planted on either side of Danny’s head, loose strands of red hair brushing against his face and carrying the scent of raspberries. Beautiful, Danny thinks dimly, he’s so fucking beautiful. 

It’s then that the fat head of Joaquim’s cock hits his prostate, back arching sharply and a loud, unrestrained moan ripping from his throat.

"Dankovsky," Joaquim laughs, breathless, Danny's nails digging into his shoulders. "Get any louder and you'll attract an audience."

"I h-hope I draw a, fuck, a fucking crowd. Let them a-all see how, ah, g-good you fuck me.”

Joaquim laughs again, a sweet sound that rings like church bells in Danny’s head and makes him shiver in pleasure just as much as if Joa had wrapped a strong hand around Danny’s neglected, dribbling cock. Danny smiles himself, turning his head to press a kiss to Joa's wrist.

"H-hey, hold on a moment."

Joaquim stills, brows furrowing as he frowns. “Someone here?” He cocks his head to the side, listening. Even with the threat of being stumbled upon in an isolated, out-of-the-way meadow, Joaquim still stays pressed against him, cock keeping him so wonderfully full. 

“Nah, just hold still, Kimi.”

Smiling softly at the nickname, he keeps still as Danny shifts his weight, keeping one leg locked around his lover as he uses the other to leverage himself off the ground. Joaquim’s grin grows  as Danny flips their positions, now the smaller man sprawled on his back in the soft grass. 

Danny shudders, sun warming his back and Joaquim’s cock pressed deep. This is what he wants. Always. Warmth and…and him. Joaquim. Muscular chest damp with sweat, the golden undertones of his skin contrasting sharply with the nearly dead pale of Danny’s hands as he steadies himself. Danny pauses, staring at his hands pressed against Joaquim. 

Lucky. The thought reverberates in his head. He’s so incredibly lucky everything turned out like this. Captured by some power-hungry cultist wanting to break his spirit and give his body over to the entity he unwillingly housed, thrown into a cell with a blind man and left to rot together. How was he lucky enough that they ended up like this? Out of that horrid place, free. Or, free enough to hike out into the woods and fuck like idiot teens or something. Entwined together. Forever, as far as Danny was concerned. For as long as Joaquim wanted him.

A hand grips his hip, warmth alighting along the markings the entity gave him in a surprisingly pleasurable tingling sensation. Joa’s other hand slides up his side, almost cruelly grinding his thumb against Danny’s pierced nipple. 

“Fuck!” Danny hisses, head tilting back and cock twitching dangerously where it lays heavy against Joaquim’s stomach. 

“C’mon pretty boy,” Joaquim all but purrs, “ride my cock like you’re always begging to.”

“Ha, think you can handle it?”

The smile Joa gives Danny is sharp. It makes his stomach flip. “Oh, I know I can, loverboy. But do you think you can manage to not go overboard?” Joa's thumb grinds into his nipple again, making Danny jerk with a laugh. 

“D-don’t wanna carry me out of the forest?” Slowly, Danny rocks forward, grinding on Joa’s cock and making the tip press deliciously against his insides.  

“If you’re my eyes, I’ll be fine.”

With a sigh, Danny leans forward, chest to chest with his lover. Teasingly, his tongue flicks out, swiping over Joaquim’s lips. He doesn’t get a chance to pull away before a strong hand clamps onto the back of his neck, keeping him in place as Joaquim presses their mouth’s together, tongues twisting together as Danny starts to move his hips, humping Joa’s cock like his life depends upon it. His own cock is pressed between their stomachs, going from being ignored to almost overstimulated. Still, he humps away, fucking himself on Joaquim’s cock.

Even when Joa breaks the kiss, he doesn’t let go of the back of Danny’s neck. “My boy,” the redhead growls, mouth pressed against Danny’s ear. “My fucking boy, aren’t you?”  

“Y-yeah,” Dannay manages to moan out, “yours. A-Always.” 

“Good boy, Dankovsky.”

It’s with a hiss that Danny cums, making a mess out of both of them. Still, he keeps going, hips almost moving on their own.

“Wanna take a break, babe?”

“N-not until you f-fuck me f-full. Wa…want your cum. N-now.”

Danny doesn’t have time to think before he’s on his back again, legs getting pulled up over Joaquim’s shoulders.

“As you wish, princess.”

“My loyal knight, huh?”

Danny’s laugh gets cut off by a loud groan as Joaquim moves, fucking him deeper than before. 

“My love” Joaquim murmurs. “My love, my boy, my everything. Mine. Forever.”

“Yours,” Danny agrees, eyes starting to roll back into his head as he’s slam fucked into the soft ground. “Yours, yours, yours. F-forever.”

With a grunt, Joa cums, fucking Danny through his own orgasm as the taller man writhes under him. 

Slowly Joaquim starts to pull back, cock slipping free from Danny’s puffy hole. He doesn't make it far, though, Danny’s legs locking around him and pulling him back down. 

“Quick break, yeah? Then round two?” 

“You insatiable pervert.”

“Your insatiable pervert.”

Joaquim throws his head back, laughter shaking his body, and it’s all Danny can do not to jump him again, press him back into the grass and guide his still soft cock back inside. He promised a break, after all, and there was plenty of time for Joaquim to fuck the feeling out of his legs.

[danpuff-ao3]

The Making of: Orange Blossoms

HP Flowers, Spring Round, 2022. A prompt event with weekly prompt choices inspired by the language of flowers. Of course, I was intrigued! After all: I really love Harry Potter. And I really love flowers. And symbolism. Not to mention this would take place in May, my birth month!! This fandom event seemed tailor made just for me!

Sadly, when I get excited, I get really excited.

And this was all happening in a time period when I was busy. And thus: stressed. And I do not work well under stress.

May 2022 was not only HP Flowers, but also Snarry-a-Thon. Leading up to May, I was pulling out my hair to finish my Snarry-a-Thon fic, Contempt. Not only was I bound and determined to participate in Thon at least once, brilliant me decided it was the perfect time to write the story of my soul. But that's another story (which you can read about here.)

I so had my heart set on writing for HP Flowers. Not just a story in May for HP Flowers, but I had my heart set on posting a Snarry fic for Flowers on my birthday. Which is earlier in the month (the 8th, to be exact.) I was losing hope I'd be able to finish Thon and pop out another fic in time for my birthday. Thon was driving me batty as it was! Surely when I was done I would need a nice, long break from writing.

Fun fact, but I did sneak some of the HP Flowers prompts into Contempt. Week 1, option 4 gave:

4. Ivy- Fidelity or Attachment

If paired with: >> Dahlia- honours a long-lasting relationship OR >> Hellebore- says nothing will ever come between you and your partner

Which directly inspired:

Harry doesn't know exactly where Snape's quarters are, but Snape's name on the map leads him down to the dungeons and a door with no handle. Engravings in the stone, of serpents entwined with ivy and dahlias. No lilies, Harry is pleased to note. A speech bubble appears on the map, helpfully suggesting "hellebore" as a password.

If I couldn't properly write for HP Flowers, I thought that would have to be good enough!

But you're not here to listen to me babble about Contempt yet again. You're here for Orange Blossoms.

Well, I finished and submitted Contempt and there was time left before my birthday. I kept a notebook where I scribbled various ideas. There was plenty I wanted to write for HP Flowers. I had the whole month's prompts written down, going over various combinations and ships and ideas. Above all else, I needed a Snarry, and I needed to write it for May 8.

For Snarry, I was mostly drawn to the Week 1 prompts, though my birthday fell at the start of Week 2. The "ivy" prompt drew me in more than anything, though I dabbled with others. What to do, what to do. I had too many options and too many paths available to me. Few concrete plans.

It was frustrating, not to be swarmed with actual ideas. I'm forever plagued by story ideas, but having to form ideas on command, to fit within a framework? Not my usual style. Only for love of Snarry + flowers was I wracking my brain for any workable idea. C'mon, brain, you can do it! You do this all the time, popping out story ideas!!

It's hard to really lay out a step by step of how it all came together. I made list after list. Threw down Merlin knows how many random thoughts. I stared at the prompt lists. I did Google Image searches for all the flowers. And bit by bit it came together.

It was the language of flowers, after all. How perfectly that lends itself to courtship! And the Week 1 prompt list had an option for: "Use all of the flowers/plants listed above to either celebrate Beltane or to incorporate them in a magical garden." Beltane was too tempting not to include, but it also gave me the idea of looking to the other sabbats, and how to entwine paganism with the Wizarding World.

That birthed The Old Ways; an idea that various pagan traditions began with magical folk, and is part of Wizarding history. And how history and traditions can be sources of structure and comfort. Wartime drove people to marry. (Bill and Fleur, Arthur and Molly; Molly's comments about people eloping "left, right, and center.")

How would it feel to be away from your family, living at school while war rages on outside? A strange sense of safety (being at Hogwarts) while aware of how dark and dangerous the real world (outside of Hogwarts) is. Think of how hard it would be on children and teenagers. Think of how people turn to faith in difficult times; or even find faith in difficult times.

All of this sort of inspired the trend at Hogwarts, of learning about and following The Old Ways.

All of that was background, of course, and my very convenient excuse for love confessions via flowers.

At some point, I had to decide who would be courting who via flowers. If Severus sent them, Harry would need an outsider source (probably Hermione) to point out that "hey, flowers have meaning!" If Harry sent them, well, I can see Severus having floriography knowledge, but Harry would need a valid excuse to start it in the first place (hence the trend.)

There was also a need for secrecy, I think, if Harry was going to do this. He's our bold Gryffindor, remember? In ideal circumstances, he would make his move in other ways. (Though, in fairness, getting through Severus' thick skull is no easy task, whichever way you go.) And isn't it fun for a student/teacher romance, exchanging intimate confessions in whatever method possible? And this is the language of flowers. No letters to be found and studied and traced back to the sender.

I always love a good student/teacher, I won't lie. And there's something quite sweet about Severus being courted. And by a student, no less!

And I do love Severus. And he deserves nice things. Let the man be wooed, dang it!

So, the jumbled mess in my head more or less sorted itself out along the way. "Floriography...courtship...who courts who?...what reason would each have for sending flowers?...Beltane, the Old Ways, traditions and trends...wartime, student/teacher..." At last, I was getting there!

Elsewhere in my notes, I'd had vague ideas of handfasting at Beltane.

And looking at my more solid plan, it occurred to me. The taboo nature of their love, the darkness of the war around them...but the light of their love, and the sweetness in the method...

I often rely on sex to get Snarry together. There is so much explosive passion between them, and so much baggage, so much of who they are as individuals, how others see them, and their complicated and antagonistic history...It takes a lot, I think, for them to see their connection for what it is. To accept it in themselves, let alone revealing it to the other. All of that aggression and intensity unleashing itself in a physical manner. And all of my headcanons about each of them, and their loneliness, and their trauma, and the desire for affection and physical touch. And how much easier it is to communicate via touch. How difficult words can be, how difficult thoughts can be. All this to say, there is a reason for it.

But here, I had a perfectly constructed a scenario excluding touch almost altogether. A time of war, a time of desperation. People being driven by fear, and clinging to what they can. Two men who found love in the most unlikely of places, in an unfortunate time.

It seemed wasteful to bring sex into a situation where it wasn't needed.

So: it's rated T. And I indulged in my more romantic side for this. It's still easier for these two to communicate without actual words, but instead of physical touch, I relied on gift giving. It was a fun change of pace. And I leaned into the language of flowers a lot. I used the HP Flowers prompts, yes, but I also went outside of it, too.

A whole courtship without sex, and hardly talking at all. A whole courtship under the noses of all of Hogwarts. A secret they dared not breathe aloud, even to each other.

I have a lot of feelings about Snarry as a ship. The incredible power of their connection, and their love. How it bleeds into everything. And being able to express that in a whole new way was such a beautiful experience.

So with my plan more or less in place, I began. I used two prompts: Hawthorn (hope) and Ivy (fidelity.) So I opened with flowers.

1. Hawthorn- Hope

If paired with: >> Orange blossom- shows hope that the recipient will return your affection

When I began, I was content to have any Snarry + flowers story. I figured I'd get a drabble out of it, if nothing else. I didn't expect a love story that would bring me to tears. I ended up with a story that was so dear to me. The best birthday gift I could have given myself, truly!

[malachitecrows]

I have no coherent writing pieces I've done to post but I do have the most cherished lore for my favourite pair of OC's that I'm just going to put here to show this blog is still active. There's an inherent sort of romanticism with these two, named Vivian and Imarae. I've struggled a bit with making them into the canon end game pairing but I decided today to say well it's my lore and I get to decide what I do with it. Read more about them under the cut

The first character is a (formerly) human man named Vivian Blythe. There's an inherent sort of tragedy to his character that I keep coming back to. Vivian was born in a community that worships the God Islwyn. He had no father, only a mother who was so deeply devoted to the God that she typically ended up neglecting him for her worship. A deeply lonely child who grew into an equally as lonely adult, Vivian struggles with consistent issues regarding depression and feeling unwanted.

For Vivian, his community believed that the vampirism curse their God created was a blessing. Everyone accepted it with open arms, everyone but him. Viewing him as a traitor, the community attacked him and left him for dead. A traveling vampire healer finds him, converting him to a vampire to save his life. She didn't realize it wasn't what he wanted. His reaction to this fact wildly changes how she treats patients on the brink of death from then on out.

Vivian struggles with his new desire to cause mayhem, to hurt people, to use them as food sources. He struggles greatly, until he meets the Goddess of the Moon; Imarae. She takes him under her wing, and eventually appoints him as her priest. While she would like for him to be her saint, she respects his decision to not. Their lives are very entwined together, and their relationship starts off on very friendly terms.

The second character is a crossbreed between a dragon and a human, named Imarae. Imarae is a very special individual, born with the power to wield the moon. It's theorized her birth was one out of necessity, as the planet had no sun or moon until her and her childhood friend Aeyr came into existence. She was a very beloved child, and was very close to Aeyr during her entire childhood.

Much like Vivian, Imarae's life has been very full of expectations other people set for her rather than her own choices. She was expected to ascend to Godhood, expected to marry Aeyr, expected to bear many lesser God children with the God of the Sun. She doesn't realize until she meets Vivian just how much the lack of her personal agency bothers her. She chooses to entwine their lives together, chooses to keep him around.

Aeyr views her friendship with the vampire as a betrayal. He has his own prejudices against creatures such as Vivian, believing all of those who have been cursed should subsequently be killed. Imarae wholeheartedly disagrees; her moon and night is what makes her so defensive and loyal to the creatures of the night. Her loyalty to creatures Aeyr views with disgust is a consistent source of great conflict for the couple.

Eventually, they come to a compromise for Vivian. Aeyr begrudgingly gives him access to his beloved Saint, Sasha. Sasha begins a careful healing process for Vivian, and while it is extremely successful, the vampire completely regresses on his progress when they ultimately die from old age.

The Sun and Moon Gods argue. Vivian has become incredibly dangerous in his grief, spreading indiscriminate carnage and brutally killing dozens. He is unable to deal with the fact that his beloved Goddess is hurting, ultimately vanishing one night in an attempt to spare her suffering. Imarae blames Aeyr, believing that the Sun God secretly had her priest killed. Aeyr's previous behavior, his past attempts to take Vivian's life, do not do any justice for giving her the idea that he had no hand in the vampire's disappearance. She ultimately breaks off their relationship; permanently, and vanishes to find the body of her priest.

Vivian and Imarae reunite years later, and during this time, Vivian has become a creature, known as a Forsaken, that kills for pleasure. To feel some sort of emotion that isn't crushing emptiness. Imarae is relieved he's alive, though holds fear for his psyche when he snaps out of this state. Carefully, she guides him back to his humanity. Ultimately, they realize just how important they are to each other in a way that transcends their previous relationships. I have a series started documenting this healing process I call 'How to Train Your Forsaken' which I need to rewrite but will post here.

They're not entwined by fate outside of Imarae's influence, they're not even soulmates. But the message behind them is they choose to be with each other, even as the Gods who made their souls say they should be with other people. They choose to be together because they give each other some semblance of hope, hope for their individual futures, hope that they will be able to choose whatever they both want in life. They inspire each other in ways their previous partners could not.

Imarae finds, with her new relationship with Vivian, she has power over love. Over soulmates. It's through Vivian she learns she is the patron Deity of Love, in addition to her other domains; moon, night, magic, knowledge. She learns she has always been capable of making choices and not doing what everyone tells her to do, and despite the protests of the entire world, she chooses Vivian.

Likewise, through Imarae, Vivian learns what it's like to be loved. To be wanted. He has more power over his life than he had initially believed, he is capable of making his own choices rather than have them be decided for him. He gains complete self acceptance, and finally is capable of finishing his healing that Sasha had started.

They're my favourite cause they choose to be together, even when the world tells them it's unacceptable. They're my favourite and I can tell cause I keep coming back to them. I love me the trope of Weird Little Guy x Literal Goddess. Top Tier.

[saradika]

To Have and To Hold

Obi-Wan Kenobi x F!Reader

Rated E - 1.6k

Tags - descriptions of fatigue/sadness, smut, sleepy piv, mentions of regret and death, mild illness, hurt/comfort

Summary - Waking up to 4 different kinds of mornings with Obi-Wan

A/N - Happy May the 4th! I have 4 short, 400(ish) word drabbles exploring different aspects of their relationship, through the ups and downs 💕

i.

You should get up.

The old, sun-bleached alarm clock tinkles out a well-know melody, your palm tapping down snooze again. The third time already this morning.

You should get up. But you're just so tired.

All week has been filled with anticpation, quiet excitement for this morning’s trip into Mos Espa. Your satchel holding a small bag of credits, dreaming of all the delicious food and antique treasures you might find.

The “what-if” daydreams helping speed time along while you worked on the small moisture farm - mopping the sweat from your brow was worth it if it afforded you the chance to make this hut feel a little more like home.

And now, the excitement feels leached from you, leaving a bone-deep weariness that weighs you down like stone.

"Sweetheart? Still in bed?" You hear Obi-Wan’s voice calling before you see him - as he fills the doorway, a cup of steaming caf in hand.

His smile wanes at the edges, knowing you - knowing how much you were looking forward to today. Knowing the far-away look in your eye.

"Yeah." You sigh, and the bed dips as he comes to sits down on the edge, "I'm sorry, I'm just really tired."

It's not a sleepy tired, though you're sleepy often enough. It's something that pushes you into the mattress, that settles in your chest and in the corners of your mind. Combining with the knowledge that you don't 'have' to get up today, creating the urge to pull your blankets over your head and just... hide.

"I know, love." His hand smoothes over the blankets, "Do you want to sleep a little longer? We can always go later."

"I don't want you to be upset with me." Your voice cracks with your whisper, and his eyebrows are furrowing.

"Darling, I would never be upset with you.” Obi-Wan soothes, his voice going quiet and low, “Why don't you just rest up this morning?”

There’s silence as you think about it, the guilt of doing nothing now weighing just as heavy as the rest. But maybe you’re just looking for permission, and maybe him saying it will be enough.

"Will you stay with me?"

His smile is gentle as he tugs back the cover, and you scoot over to make room for him. There's a beautiful light to him that warms you, and you find yourself leaning into it this morning.

"I know I can't make it better." His voice is low, fingers running comfortingly down your back.

"But I am always here for you. For as long as you need me."

———

ii.

Your skin is sticky-hot in the dry, desert heat, but it’s nothing compared to the heat between your thighs as you stir. Shifting, the body pressed snug against your back moving with you, the drag of something stiff and soft against your slit, the low rumble of a moan behind you.

Hips that shift forward, pressing himself against you, parting your lips with his cock until there’s a smear of slick across the head.

Lazy hands grope, the curve of a palm against your stomach rising to tease a breast. Slow breathing that changes as the more he wakes - the rough, bristly kiss against the back of your neck.

Your hand brushes his, fingers entwining as you grind back against him. It turns sloppy, limbs moving slowly with sleep, shifting and wiggling to try to make it work. His hand leaving yours to trace down a thigh, hooking under your left knee to raise it, to open you up.

Biting back a soft laugh as he groans with frustration against your shoulder, the thrust of his hips catching his cock against your entrance, but not at the right angle.

Your fingers drift down, and he’s sighing as you guide him, easing him until the tip is pressing into your heat. Until you’re both moving together, grinding yourself back against him as he rocks into you.

Groaning with the sweet stretch of him as he sinks into you, finally giving you what you both need.

It’s slow, as you find a rhythm, curled on your sides and pressed snug together. Each shift of his hips sliding him deep, the circle of his hips dragging him back out, until you’re moving to meet him.

Until his hand is lowering your knee, slipping between your thighs. The muscles in his forearms flexing as he circles your clit, the hushed “gods, yes” in your ear when he meets soft, slick skin.

His other arm shoving beneath you, curling against your stomach to cup a breast. Fingers squeezing pillowy flesh as he keeps you pressed tightly against him.

“Obi-Wan, please-“ you’re whimpering in a soft, scratchy voice - fingers reaching back to grasp for him, fingers tangling in silken strands.

“I’ve got you, darling.” He promises, pressing wet kisses against the back of your neck, your throat.

It builds, a steady, sharp pleasure until it’s bursting, until your hips are bucking into his hand. The sweet pulse as you clench down around him, your breath catching in your throat until all you can do is gasp.

Gripping you with a soft, “oh, oh, oh-”. The pulsing tightness around his cock until he’s thrusting himself deep and spilling with a ragged groan into you.

You catch his hand, dragging his fingers to your mouth. Kissing each one and tasting the musky tang of your release, sharp against your tongue.

“Good morning, my love.” Your head tilts so you can kiss him, his eyes soft in the grey-pink light of dawn as his mouth meets yours.

“Good morning, darling.”

———

iii.

You wake up alone.

The space next to you holds no body heat, the room always a little bit cooler this time of year. You shift, rubbing your eyes blearily as you quietly call for him, recieving no answer in return.

The hut is quiet as you move through it, from the bed through the open living area - until you can peek out the narrow holes cut to make windows.

Only then you can see him, silhoutted against the light of the moons, the stiff arch of his back as he gazes up into the night sky.

You trade your blanket for one that is thickly-woven and hearty, silently opening the door and easing out of it. The sands shift under your feet as you climb the dune, until you're standing beside him.

The blanket touches down, and it's only then that he looks at you with a small smile that does not quite reach his eyes.

"I was trying not to wake you. I couldn't sleep."

When his head turns and the light bathes across it, you can see the weariness, the shadows clinging beneath his eyes. Your hand finds his and you squeeze.

“I dreamed about them again.” He’s telling you, but his voice feels far away, “They always seem just out of reach.”

The hand balanced on a bent knee flexes, his palm closing into a fist, “And when I wake up, it’s like I can still feel them. Just for a moment.”

You didn’t know much about before. Raw memories, buried deep - something he wasn’t ready to face. He doesn’t talk about them but you know their names, from when he murmurs them in his sleep, trapped in a nightmare.

Qui-Gon. Satine. Ahsoka. Cody. Waxer. Boil. Rex.

Anakin.

And even though he’s endured - survived - there’s parts of him that have stayed shattered.

“I failed them.”

His voice is quiet, voice cracking as his jaw grits to bite back the rest. The heavy weight that seems to creep back into his chest when it gets late - when he’s left alone with his thoughts.

“You’re a good man.” You scoot closer, your hand rubbing over his arm - resting the side of your head against his shoulder as you lean into him. “They forgive you.”

Maybe someday you’ll ask about them, and maybe someday he’ll tell you.

Until then, you will be there for him. To have and to hold, in joy and in sorrow.

You don't know what else to say, so you just press yourself close, wrapping yourself around him. Pouring all the love and hope and support you can into the gesture, your eyes closing as you try to force it into something tangible. Something he can keep, pressed close to his chest.

"Thank you." His words are quiet, swept away into the night as his head tilts, fitting against your shoulder.

Staying there until the sun rises, just so he doesn’t have to dream again.

———

iv.

Every time you're about to drift off, you're woken up.

It's a shift, a sigh - the stuffy sniff of a nose. He's trying to keep quiet but you can tell he's miserable.

You roll to your side, fingers tracing against a shoulder. Obi-Wan's skin is warm to the touch, and his eye crack open as you touch the back of your hand to his forehead. He's burning up, skin flushed pink under the early morning light.

"How are you feeling?" You whisper, and the edges of his lips curl into a smile.

"Marvelous." He croaks, and you smile back, reaching for the robe hanging around the bedpost.

In the kitchen, you dig through your pantry. Medical supplies are scarce, and what you had wouldn't help. Bacta would't cure congestion, and as much as you'd love to give him some antibiotics, you haven't been able to get into town to buy some.

All you can do is make some herbal tea to help soothe the ache in his throat, and you lean against the counter as the small pot of water boils. You yawn at the tea seeps in a clay mug, until you fish the small bag out to rest on the counter.

He's sitting up when you return, accepting the mug, nose wrinkling as he takes the first bitter sip. But he rallies, taking another until the cup is empty, until he's slumping back against the headboard.

"It seems illegal that one could catch a cold in the desert." He huffs, and you smile - knowing that with this bit of snark, he must be feeling better.

You scoot closer, using a towel damp with a precious bit of cool water to dab at his forehead, doing your best to soothe the ache.

"I'm just glad it's not dust fever. I had that when I was younger. My mom said I thought I was riding a Krayt Dragon for a whole afternoon."

He smiles at that, his hand finding yours, "And were you?"

"I thought I was. But I was just sitting on our landspeeder." You laugh, "They just took the keys away and let me stay until I tired myself out. It was a little scary though, now that I think about it."

He sighs into your touch, eyes heavy, "Well, there’s no dragons here. I'll keep you safe."

“Mm, how gallant.” You swoop down, pressing a kiss to his freckled cheek.

He grimaces as he leans away, groaning, "Don't, darling. I am sure I look awful."

Pushing yourself up, you take his cup, pulling up the sheets to tuck him back in. Calling from the doorway, as you make your way to the kitchen.

"Well, you’ve always looked like a knight to me."

[jellybeandrawsthings]

☹️hi i dont usually do this thing where i ask for art/thoughts on things but ive had a super bad day and i was just curious as to what your take on your wounded-on-krypton Kara would be doing with Lena if she hadn't of come out as Supergirl but they still met and fell in love- would Kara just be floating around Lena's apartment during quarantine listening to Lena read books and making her gf tea's and flying out to get her her supplies so Lena would stay safe from getting sick? I really love your art.

aww, I'm sorry u had a bad day, I made a little doodle and tried writing a little story for it as well that should answear your queastion about my scarred!Kara and her relationship with Lena if she didn’t became Supergirl (tho I'm not a writer, so its quality might not be the best)  hopefully it will make u feel even just a little bit better

The first time she met Lena, Kara was going to L-Corp to get a prosthetic replacement from their new Cybernetic Futures program since she kind of destroyed her old one.

Okay, she definitely destroyed her old one, but to be fair, who knew kicking a cement boulder with a prosthetic leg made from human metals but with the force of an angry and very frustrated superpowered being would destroy said metal leg. Really, who could've predicted that?

Walking into the building with warm coffee in hand proved to be more difficult than Kara hoped, her busted prosthetic making her wobble every two steps since she didn't have a spare she could wear - this was the spare - and the slippery tiled floor didn't help. Making her way to the elevator she kept glancing down focusing on her steps, this meant she didn't notice when a woman absorbed in her phone walked straight into her path. On instinct, she relaxed her body as to not harm the human she collided with, unfortunately, that meant she lost her barely-there, to begin with, balance and was sent sprawling onto the floor and her coffee splashing straight at the woman's shirt. Perfect. Just what she needed today.

She had an apology already forming on her lips when she looked up and for the first time noticed the woman, no, the goddess she bumped into. Her hair was black, but when it caught the light it shone deep chestnut brown and cascading down her back, her skin was pale and looked so soft Kara found herself wanting to touch it, her fingers twitching at her sides. The woman's eyes were green, though her right eye seemed to be two shades lighter, more gray than green. She wasn't looking at her currently occupied with taking in the state of her clothes. And Rao, her clothes. The outfit was that of a businesswoman, high heels ready to kill, dark burgundy slacks with a matching suit jacket, loose black tie, and a white shirt. A white shirt that was now covered in Kara's coffee. Oh no. She needed to fix this, like, immediately. The best place to start is with an apology, right?

———————

Lena was having a pretty normal day, all things considered. She should have known her days are never normal. She woke up early, ate a small breakfast, and went to work. There she had meetings with investors from 8 to 11, some paperwork to sign, a small meeting with the head of R&D at 12, and now she finally had enough time to take a break and maybe grab some lunch. With a certain sandwich place in mind, she made her way down to the ground floor and, while answering some last-minute e-mail made her way to the exit of the building.

Before she could even make it halfway to the wide double door, she felt something surprisingly solid and at the same time very wobbly bump into her, and then a sudden warmth and wetness on her chest. Looking down at herself confirmed what she already suspected, someone, spilled coffee on her. Thankfully it was only warm and not scalding hot the last thing she needed right now was dealing with coffee-induced burns. Making sure her shirt was the only thing damaged in the incident, Lena paid no mind to the person who bumped into her, that is until a very apologetic voice started talking to her. From the floor. Looking away from her ruined shirt, she took in the person frantically trying to apologize for spilling coffee on her, at least that's what she thinks the woman was trying to do, seeing as at his point she was rambling a mile a minute.

The woman on the floor looked young, probably around the same age as Lena herself, she had blond wavy hair gathered in a messy ponytail and hidden behind cute square-framed glasses, the bluest eyes she has ever seen. There was a burn scar covering most of the left side of her face and neck and more peeking out from under her shirt. Her left leg ended right below the knee, and the prosthetic she was wearing looked like someone put it under an industrial press and then tried to put it back into shape with a hammer. She was wearing blue sneakers, jean shorts, and a yellow tank top with tiny rainbow dinosaurs on it that gave her an unobscured view of the rippling muscles in her arms as she gesticulated wildly still rambling out something resembling an apology.

Taking it all in Lena came to one conclusion. She's cute. And so with warm coffee drying on her chest and a beautiful woman at her feet, really what else was there for Lena to do other than ask the blonde out on a date.

———————

They moved in together after a year of dating. Alex asked if they were sure, but there wasn't a doubt in their minds that this was what they wanted. It felt right. And they were glad for this decision since a few months later, they and most of the world's population were confined to their homes.

Days in quarantine were spent working from home on their laptops with their legs entwined together and sharing a blanket out of the view of the cameras. When they weren't working they were finding new ways to entertain themselves. Slowly making their way through the classics of fantasy and sci-fi literature, with Kara floating them above the couch and Lena laying on top of her chest reading aloud from her Kindle was how they were spending most of the evenings. During the weekends when there was less work, Lena tried to teach Kara how to bake - with mixed results - and Kara made it her mission to recreate as many childhood experiences Lena missed out on living with the Luthors as possible. Her blanket fort wasn't the most structurally sound, but it sure was cozy. Movie nights were a nightly routine, and cooking dinner together became the most sacred daily ritual neither of them dared or wanted to skip. Weekly game nights through zoom were initiated almost immediately after lockdown and to no one's surprise, Lena and Alex's competitiveness did not lessen with the development of not being in the same room. If anything it became worse. Bets about how long will it take for the two of them to start fighting and accusing each other of cheating were as much a tradition as game nights itself. Most days though were spent working and lounging together with Kara occasionally flying out to pick up supplies they needed. And when one day Kara flew through the balcony with two cats and a dog saying there wasn't enough space in shelters, who was Lena to refuse those cute puppy eyes (it didn't hurt that the dog and cats were adorable as well).

[isgcd]

GORILLAZ  SENTENCE  STARTERZ .

non - music  gorillaz  sentence  starters,  taken  from  various  audio  /  film  clips  and  interviews. 

‘   freedom  is  in  your  noggin.   once  you  understand  that,  you  have  the  mental  strength  to  endure  anything. ’

‘  i  reckon  you’ll  go  far,  if  you  ever  manage  to  pay  off  those  crippling  loans.  ‘

‘  what  happens  in  the  past  stays  in  the  past.   that’s  my  motto.  ‘

‘  it’s  a  philosophy  that  helps  me  remain  in  the  moment  while  giving  me  licence  to  behave  exactly  as  i  like  without  having  to  worry  about  guilt  or  regret.  ‘

‘  oh,  i  know.   i’m  down  with  the  kids.  don’t  worry.  ‘

‘   ___    is  such  a  poser.  ‘

‘  beer  is  proof  that  god  loves  us  and  wants  us  to  be  happy.  ‘

‘  i  like  blue  and  i  like  green.   mix  it  together  you  get  turquoise.  ‘

‘   some  people  are  born  great,  and  some  have  greatness  thrust  inside  them.  ‘

‘  don’t  worry,  we  can  hang  out  in  my  room,  i  still  haven’t  finished  that  jigsaw.  ‘

 ‘  the  wrinkles  on  my  face  are  laughter  lines.  ‘

‘  nothing  is  that  funny.  ‘

‘  if  you  touch  my  leg  one  more  time,  i  will  call  the  cops.  ‘

‘  there’re  a  million  possible  futures  out  there.   question  is,  which  one  do  you  wanna  pick  ?   ‘

‘  you  wouldn’t  believe  the  bribes  i  get,  either.  ‘

‘  hold  on,  what  was  the  bit  about  ice  hockey  ?   i  definitely  heard  ice  hockey.  ‘   

‘   sounds  like  something    ___    might  have  said  when  he’s  had  too  many  twisters.  ‘

‘  i  punched  him  for  saying  that.  ‘

‘  sod  off,  you  old  goth.  ‘

‘  snobs  look  down  on  people,  and  i  look  down  on  everyone.   not  in  a  snooty,  classist  way,  i  mean  because  i’m  better  than  everyone.  ‘

‘  i  don’t  give  a  shit  about  good  manners.   although  it  does  piss  me  off  when  people  slurp  soup.  ‘

‘  i’m  a  feminist  now.  ‘

‘  our  paths  entwine,  then  separate–   like  a  messed - up  pretzel.  ‘

‘  i  was  in  a  relationship  with  six  other  people,  that’s  my  problem  with  her,  you  know  ?  ‘

‘  why  don’t  you  jump  in  next  to  me  and  feel  the  quality  of  these  sheets  ?  

‘  whales  !   they’re  enormous  too  big  !  ‘

‘  go  away.   go  on.   sod  off.  ‘

‘  do  you  wanna  come  and  watch  a  zombie  film  ?  ‘

‘  i  just  got  a  blu - ray  of  evil  dead.  ‘

‘  i  love  cats.   they’re  always  the  first  to  spot  ghosts  in  horror  movies.  ‘

‘  i  don’t  think  i’ve  learned  anything.   and  that  is  a  lesson  itself.  ‘

‘  fear  was  one  of  the  biggest  emotions.   and  frustration.  ‘

‘  look,  i’ve  got  two  cups  of  orange  juice  in  my  hand.  ‘

‘  he  begged  me  to  take  him  on.  ‘

‘  they  did  give  me  substance.   or  substances.   i’m  not  sure.  ‘

‘  who  the  hell  are  you  ?   how  did  you  get  my  number  ?  ‘

‘  my  gaff,  my  rules  !  ‘

‘  i  like  to  shop  under  pressure.  ‘

‘  how  much  longer  are  this  warm - up  band  going  to  hold  the  stage  for ?  ‘

‘  look  up    ___    in  the  dictionary,  it  says  ‘ungrateful wanker’.  ‘

‘  i  don’t  think  people  should  be  forced  to  do  anything.  ‘

‘  afterwards  he  said  i  was  a  good  listener,  and  not  like  all  the  other  girls.   we  hugged,  exchanged  numbers,  and  i  left.   he  never  called.  ‘

‘  if  you  don’t  know,  a  sharknado  is  a  phenomenon  where  a  tornado  sucks  up  a  shoal  of  killer  sharks,  then  spins  across  the  land  eating  and  destroying  everything  in  its  path.  ‘

‘  luckily  they’re  quite  rare.  ‘