#ask the apocalypse nerd | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

nanamisgirly · 3 months ago

Text

pussy slapping with your maths teacherྀི

based on this ask (I hope the anon will like it🙂‍↕️)

next part

you knew the email meant trouble the second it landed in your inbox.

subject : “Homework 6 — Integrity Dicussion.” from : [email protected]

so now you're standing outside his office door, palms sweating, thighs pressed together in your miniskirt like that might save you from the cheating homework you assigned. it's not like you're scared of Gojo. he's just your goofy annoyingly attractive nerd math professor. the man wears Gundam socks with his loafers, makes calculus puns, and has a signed photo of Neil deGrasse Tyson on his bookshelf like it's a family heirloom.

but he also happens to have shoulders like a swimmer, hands big enough to palm a basketball, and a mouth made for sin that he hides behind dump jokes with his stupidly slutty glasses. you're not into him or anything tho, you're just not blind.

your knuckles tap against the door.

“come in,” he calls, voice low. too low actually.

you step in, closing the door behind you.

the first thing you see are the posters of fractals and famous math equations—not surprising. in the other hand, what is really surprising is the life-size cardboard cutout of the pokémon Blastoise. what the fuck is that?

your surprise doesn't stop there, as your eyes land on the chunky old Casio calculator sitting on his desk next to a mug that says, “i'm a cute professor <3”.

he's seated at his desk, glasses on, sleeves rolled to the elbows showing strong forearms scribbled in veins, one ankle resting over the opposite knee like he's got all the time in the world. a lopsided smile appears as he asks “you're nervous ?”

you scoff, clutching your handbag a little tighter. “i'm not.” he's the one to talk—how would anyone look comfortable in a office looking like this?

“mmh. tell yourself that.” he leans, pulls open a drawer and slides out your homework. he taps the edge the paper as he hold it in the air. “you handed your homework last week. and you scored…a beautiful 97.” he tilts his head, gauging your reaction.

you're feeling a bit too hot now, sweats trickling down your spine, but you try to hold it together. you feign innocence, “yeah, incredible isn't it?” you say, rolling your eyes to play it cool.

he hums thoughtfully. “sure… if you hadn't cheated.”

you swallow, crossing your arms as you cock a hip “a girl scores high and suddenly some old grump of a man's offended by it. what a world we live in.”

gojo leans back in his chair, gaze sliding over your form—lingering a bit too long on your thighs. “is that how it is?" he hums, eyes flicking up to meet yours "just a bitter old man then?” the corner of his mouth twitches like he's trying not to grin

he clicks his tongue and leans back further, arms spreading across the armchair like he owns the place. he does, actually. his knees spread too—annoyingly wide, “look, we both know you didn't do these problems yourself. and you're gonna redo it. right here. right now. on me.”

your lips part. “gojo—”

“professor gojo,” he corrects, tone maddeningly even. “you don't want me to call the Academic Integrity Committee, do you?”

you glance down at his thighs, then back up. “you're a math professor. Not my—”

“—brat tamer?” he cuts in smoothly, raising a brow without blinking.

you go still. your jaw clenches, heat crawling up the back of your neck. he's so smug. smug and patient and infuriatingly unfazed.

you step forward and settle on his lap—hovering, refusing to fully sit. if he thinks you're gonna give in that easily, he's dead wrong. you don't care if your thighs start shaking. you'll squat until the apocalypse if you have to.

“ah—!” a squeal rips out of you when his hands clamp around your hips, big and warm and decidedly firm as he drags you down until you're fully seated, straddling his lap. your miniskirt hikes up dangerously high in the process, your bare thighs pressed tight to his slacks.

his breath hitches, almost imperceptibly. you probably wouldn't have noticed if you weren't so hyper-aware of every single shift in the room.

“problem one,” he says, casually putting your paper on the desk like he isn't now rock-hard beneath you like a complete weirdo. his hands stay planted on your thighs, thumbs stroking idly, but his voice stays cold. unbothered, professional almost.

keyword : almost.

you swallow hard, cheeks burning from the sheer proximity—his firm chest pressed to your back, white fluffy hair brushing every time he leans in. his scent clings to your skin—clean linen, cologne, and chalk dust—it's driving you insane. and those damn impossible formulas staring up at you on the paper—differential equations, matrix exponentials, fucking laplace transforms. couldn't he have picked basic calculus ?

your brain is short-circuiting. and the little laughs of the far-too-good-looking-with-his-glasses-pushed-low-on-his-nose professor is doing nothing to ease your nerves. “solve the matrix for the homogeneous system.” your spine stiffens as his voice is nothing but hot air dragging goosebumps up your neck.

“c'mon, engineer girl. use that big brain of yours.” you let out a shaky exhale, trying to focus on the paper even while his fingers toy with the hem of your panties. he hasn't even really touched you, but you're feeling your panties clinging to you—embarrassingly wet.

“one over s-squared plus four?” you try something, mind too fuzzy to think. your breath catches as his fingertips trace your clothed slit—oh very so slowly. he doesn't bother pressing, just lets the fabric catch and soak even more.

“gojo, what are you—”

“professor,” he reminds you, tone suddenly sharp. “and…” he's turning his head, cheek brushing yours as he watches your teeth dig in your bottom lip “no guessing.” you shudder, thighs trembling on his thick one.

that’s ridiculous how sensitive you were from featherlight touches…you’re better than that..so why are your wetting your thighs by seconds ?

“from now on,” his fingers slip beneath the damp lace, two digits brushing your folds, “you get every problem right, you're so good at pretending to be smart—but be smart.” his hand curls back up—cupping your pussy, applying steady pressure to your aching clit through the underwear. your thighs squeeze together instinctively, the heat unbearable.

you stare at the same problem, chest rising and falling in heavy breath. “a-a inverse time b—?” you offer weakly.

a low, pitying sound escapes him.

smack.

“wrong again.” the sudden sharp slap on your cunt makes your entire body jolts in his lap, your ass pressing harder against his cock. your head drops forward, tears prickling your lashes, hips twitching in a pathetic attempt at friction.

it"s so humiliating. that nerd of a teacher. fuck.

“uh-huh, don't move, sweetie. who told you you get to grind on my thigh?” he grabs your jaw with his free hand, forcing you to meet his glacier-blue eyes glinting behind crooked glasses. “let's try again. if f(t) = sin(3t), then what's the Laplace transform?” his breath ghosts over your cheek, one hand directing your gaze to the paper like you aren't already losing your mind.

your mind scrambles, your pussy pulses, and you're cursing the world for putting you in this situation. you can't even help it, it just feels so good.

your voice breaks on a moan, nothing reflecting your angry mind “three… over…squared plus n-nine—”

gojo groans softly, cock twitching under your ass. “there she is,” he mutters, hand sliding down to rub rough circles against your clit. “smart and fuckable? you might be my new favorite little project sweetie.”

and just as a whimper leaves your lips—the second your hips barely roll forward in a desperate grind—he yanks his hand away.

“what did i say?” he asks, calmly adjusting his glasses like he's not the filthiest thing on earth right now. “no grinding. one right answer doesn't mean you get to cum. you've got four more questions, we're far from done.”

he lands another slap on your clit—scarily precise. “i get to edge you again. and again. until your poor little cunt forgets what cumming even feels like.” you sob his name as he pulls your underwear taut between your fat lips, the soaked lace dragging cruelly against your swollen clit. you shove your fist into your mouth, biting it to stay quiet.

he dips his fingers back into the ruined mess between your legs. not inside—never inside apparently. he's probably a psychopathe who loves skimming his student's pussy entrance, circling it like a threat.

“if you get all the five right tho," he murmurs darkly, "i'll bend you over this desk and fuck you, raw, with your nose pressed onto that test," your walls clench hard at his words—and he feels it, obviously…

smirking into your hair, he adds, “you'd love that, of course you would. so go on, sweetie. show me you're not just a brainless little brat. show me how much of a perfect slut you are for good grades.”

you swear once you'll get all your mind together, you're gonna make him regret everything. that cocky, small-dick bastard—acting like he's got a big game between his thighs.

a nerd like him, isn't packing enough to pleasure you. right?

^⌯𖥦⌯^

a/n aaaand we thanks my bachelor in engineer for my knowledge ☝🏼 tho i hope you enjoyed reading this, i don’t think it’s perfect buuut i tried :))) let me know 🫶🏻

2K notes · View notes

jeeseth · 1 month ago

Text

# GABRIELA? — megan skiendiel x f!reader

ᝰ.ᐟ you fell for the nerd. now she’s hot—and obviously gabriela wants her. but too bad so sad megan’s already yours. and gabriela? she never even stood a chance.

˖⋆࿐໋ ( hotnerd!megan x f!rᥱᥲdᥱr ) ── .✦ you might wanna tune in < gabriela by katseye > ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ

⟡﹒ tᥲgs ﹐ ﹅ ⟢ angst. tiny bit of fluff at the end :D idek the genre atp. non-idol au, college au, nerdy!megan, hotnerd!megan, mention of that stewpid gabriela, jealousy?, kissing, lowkey suggestive if you squint your eyes, lowercase intended, mens dni, grammatical errors .

( ˶°ㅁ°) !! a/n - i’m going insane as i patiently waits for katseye comeback BUT HERE THEY ARE ! so this fic is clearly based on their first comeback and i hope yall like it! i use grammar checker. anyway enjoy :3

megan’s wearing two different socks again.

you notice it halfway through class—her left foot has tiny cats doing yoga, and the right one has pineapples. not even trying to match. and somehow, you think that’s kind of cute.

she’s hunched over her desk, bangs in her eyes, poking at a calculator that looks like it was made in the early 90’s or sum.

"megan," you whisper, nudging her arm. "that’s a scientific calculator. we’re doing stats."

she looks up, blinking rapidly like a baby deer caught mid-crash.

"oh!" then she laughs quietly. "that explains a lot."

you didn’t mean to fall for her. she was just the quiet, weird girl in your class who asked too many questions and carried way too many pens. but then she offered you her last highlighter. and you both got locked out of the lab once and sat on the floor for an hour talking about which disney princess would survive a zombie apocalypse (she said mulan. you said anna. and she obviously judged you).

she wasn’t cool. she wasn’t smooth. but she made you laugh when your life felt flat. and when she finally kissed you under that sad-looking tree behind the science building, you knew. you were gone.

now it’s your third year.

and megan—your megan, is no longer the girl who forgets her id card every other day. she still snorts when she laughs and still can’t really do her eyeliner to save her life. but she’s hot now. confident. witty. everyone looks at her when she walks by. you pretend it doesn’t bother you. you pretend you’re used to it. until she shows up.

gabriela. the new transfer with perfect hair, smooth talker and suddenly, she’s everywhere. in the library where you and megan used to study alone. in your group chats. next to megan in the cafeteria, smiling like she owns the place. you don’t like how she looks at megan. and you hate how megan doesn’t seem to notice it.

"you’re staring again," megan says, bumping your shoulder with hers gently.

you blink, trying to pretend that you’re clearly not staring. "no i’m not."

"yes you are." megan grins, turning her head toward you. "what is it?"

you hesitate, the words catching in your throat before you finally let them out. "gabriela," you say quietly, like just saying her name might shift the mood. "i don’t trust her."

megan looks up from her phone, brows pulling together. you’re not sure what you expect her to say. maybe to agree. maybe to ask why or maybe even nothing at all. but right now, the only thing you do know is that something about gabriela makes your chest tighten and you need megan to know that.

"what? she’s just friendly." megan blink in confusion before she burst out laughing. you don’t laugh with her because why would you?

"she’s not. she wants something. and i think it’s you." megan’s smile fades a little upon hearing you say that, her smile softening into something you can’t quite read.

megan then reaches out and tucks your hair behind your ear. something she always do to calm you down. "then she’s already lost."

you try telling yourself that it’s fine. when it’s clearly not. you’re sitting across from megan at the library table. your laptop’s open, but you haven’t typed anything in ten minutes. why? because you’re too busy watching gabriela slide into the seat beside megan like she’s been doing it all semester.

"sorry." gabriela says, out of breath and smiling like she’s in a freaking romcom. "there were no seats left." that’s a lie. you literally passed by four empty tables on the way in.

megan only took a glance at gabriela before focusing back on her laptop. "you can sit." she says, friendly as ever. you clench your jaw but still nod. whatever. be positive, right?

the next day, gabriela shows up with two iced coffees and she places one in front of megan with a huge grin on her face.

"i noticed you always get oat milk." she says, biting her straw.

you don’t get a coffee. plus you weren’t even told they were meeting. like what? megan thanks her then laughs awkwardly, and then she shoots you a look across the table. one that says i swear i didn’t ask for this.

you nod, trying to stay calm and collected. and suddenly freezing in your own relationship.

day by day, it’s starting to get out of hands. gabriela starts tagging megan in memes. makes a private story and only adds you two. starts borrowing her pens, then her jacket, then you swear you saw her wearing one of megan’s hair clips.

and megan? sweet, clueless megan? she’s still trying to see the good in her.

"she’s lonely." she says one night while scrolling through her phone beside you. "i think she just wants to be friends."

"she clearly wants you." you reply almost immediately.

megan snorts before laughing softly. "stop."

the last straw for now, comes a week later.

you walk into the cafe near campus, holding your breath and a half nervous smile, ready to surprise megan after her class. maybe share a slice of cake, maybe just sit with her for a bit. cute right? but there she is.

megan. sitting by the window, sunlight catching the strands of her hair. and gabriela. leaning across the table her fingers brushing megan’s hand and whispering something that makes her laugh—her laugh. the real one. the one that reaches her eyes.

your heart immediately drops into your stomach. but you don’t storm in. instead, you just watch from the cafe door for a second too long. well, long enough to see the way gabriela looks at megan like she’s already won. like this is all a game.

and in that moment, you realise that this isn’t friendly anymore. gabriela? she’s not playing fair. and worse, she’s playing hella dirty.

it’s one random night where you just can’t seem to shut your brain off. you toss and turn then toss again. your pillow is too hot, the air is too still, and your thoughts won’t shut the fuck up.

you stare at your ceiling like it owes you an answer, but all you get is silence and that heavy, itchy feeling in your chest like something’s off or wrong, crawling under your skin and settling there like it belongs.

gabriela. you don’t even want to think her name, but it’s stuck in your brain like a bad song. you grab your phone and look at the time on your lockscreen. 2:04 a.m.

you hesitate for a second. then type. you don’t care anymore. you need megan.

you : you up meg?

meimei : always. what’s up??

you : can we meet? i can’t sleep.

meimei : see you in 10.

the wind bites a little as you sit on the chipped concrete ledge, pulling your hoodie tighter. you used to come here with megan all the time during your first year. at this skatepark back before things got weird. before gabriela smiled her way into your life like an infection you didn’t catch fast enough.

just then, megan’s headlights flash across the park before she turn off the engine.

"hey." she says, walking over with her usual stupid grin that makes you feel both better and worse.

"hi." you mumbles softly as megan sits beside you. she doesn’t ask why and doesn’t push. she just sits. you absolutely love that about her. but tonight, you need to say something.

"i don’t like the way she looks at you." you mumble quietly but it was loud enough for megan to hear and turns to look at you slowly. "who?"

"gabriela." you sighs before looking at megan.

megan laughs softly, like you just said something stupid like the sky is purple or something. "she’s just friendly."

"no, megan." you say, sharper than you mean to. "she’s not just friendly. she’s everywhere and it’s not normal."

"what are you talking about?" she frowns, a little confused and a little hurt.

"you really don’t see it?" you hate how desperate your voice sounds. but it’s 2 in the morning and you’re so tired and the words are just pouring out now.

"she flirts with you, she touches you, she buys you coffee, she posts about you like she’s already got you—and you let her. you smile and you thank her and it’s like i’m standing there like some background character."

megan looks at you, stunned like you just accused her of robbing a bank.

"i thought she was just being nice." megan says, voice small and soft and it tugs your heart.

"that’s the problem, megan." you whisper. "you always think everyone’s being nice. even when they’re not."

megan stays quiet for a while, picking at the sleeve of her hoodie. "i didn’t mean to make you feel like that."

"i know." you sigh. megan gently pulls you to her and make you leans your head on her shoulder. feels warm and familiar.

"i only want you," she says softly. "you know that, right?" you nod. you want to believe it. but in the dark, with her pressed against you and gabriela’s smirk haunting your memory, it still doesn’t feel like enough.

you’re quiet on the drive back. megan’s hand brushes yours a few times on the gear shift, and each time she smiles it’s like the world is still okay. like your heart isn’t pounding so hardly against your ribs with the weight of everything unsaid.

she parks in front of your dorm building and shifts into neutral. "i wish i could keep you longer." she says, eyes soft.

you smile, a little forced. "you could. just saying."

megan laughs softly. "tempting, but you have a class in six hours and i still have to finish my lab report."

you reach for the door handle—reluctant, tired, still tangled in thoughts. when suddenly megan’s phone, sitting face up in the cupholder, lights up. a text notification.

gabriela : hi pretty, you up? 🩷

then you feel like the time slows. your hand freezes. you don’t even mean to look. you really don’t. but there it is, glowing like a slap across the face.

megan doesn’t even notice it. she’s reaching to turn the engine off while humming under her breath.

you force a breath. "she has your number?"

"huh?" megan turns to looks at you, feeling confused.

you nod toward her phone. "gabriela. she texted you." megan glances down and momentarily freezes. you wait for her to say something else. explain. laugh. anything. but she doesn’t.

"did you give it to her?" you ask, trying to sound calm. your voice comes out small like you’re already bracing yourself for the answer.

megan runs a hand through her hair. "i-i yeah. she asked if we could work on econ stuff together. i didn’t think it was a big deal."

you nod slowly. "right. not a big deal."

"baby…" megan sighs, hands reaching out to caress your thigh. "please don’t do this. it’s not like that."

but your mind’s already going places. its spiraling. because damn it is a big deal. because now she can text her cute nicknames and send stupid pink hearts and megan might just smile at her phone and don’t even realise why it hurts.

you want to say something—something clear, something fair. but instead, your voice cracks "you know she wants you, right?"

silence. megan’s eyes flick down, feeling guilty now. "i didn’t reply." but the message is still there and it’s taunting you.

you open the passenger door quietly and step out. "goodnight." you mutter simply.

megan reaches out but you’re already stepping out, hoodie pulled tight with hands in your pockets.

you don’t slam the door and you don’t cry. you just walk away, trying not to think about how easy it is for someone else to call your girl pretty at 2 in the morning. and how easy it might be for her to answer.

megan’s eyes light up the second you walk into class. you see it. of course you do. that tiny lift of her shoulders, the way her pen stops mid scribble, like her entire body is quietly screaming finally.

but you don’t look at her. you walk past and take your seat two rows behind. no wave, no smile, not even a glance. if she notices, she doesn’t show it. but gabriela does. and that’s the part that really stings.

gabriela turns in her seat just slightly, her lips curving when she catches your cold silence. then of course she leans a little closer to megan. you look away before you have to see her stupid smirk.

megan tries again after class. she lingers outside the lecture hall, waiting to see your familiar face.

"y/n." megan calls once she spotted you. but you just keep walking.

you hear her footsteps behind you, quick and light, trying to catch up to you. but someone says her name. gabriela probably and megan stops. you don’t.

you ignore megan’s texts, leave her on read, respond with "👍" when she asks if you’ve eaten already. because yeah, maybe you’re being dramatic and maybe you’re hurting her. but it hurts to feel replaceable. to feel like someone else can call your girl pretty at 2 in the morning and you’re just supposed to laugh it off?

by lunchtime, megan’s getting way desperate.

you see her walking across the quad, squinting into the sun, scanning the crowd for you. you duck into the side hallway before she spots you. five minutes later, you hear her calling your name again. soft, almost confused. you keep walking.

you think you’ve escaped her for the day, but no. not megan. you’re halfway through washing your hands in the girls’ bathroom. just trying to breathe, honestly—when suddenly the door swings open.

"y/n." you look up and see megan standing in the doorway, clearly out of breath after finding you, her eyes wide and red-rimmed like she’s been holding it in all day. she walks in quietly.

"can you—" her voice cracks. "can you just stop running for one second?"

you don’t say anything. she moves closer, gently placing her hands on your shoulders. "please," she whispers. "talk to me, baby."

"what’s the point?" you shake your head slightly, no you’re not angry. just tired.

"because you won’t even look at me anymore."

"yeah." you snap, sharper than you meant to, but it’s too late to pull it back. "and you barely noticed until now."

megan flinches just slightly, but you see it. the way her shoulders tense. the way her eyes drop for a split second like your words hit exactly where they were meant to.

"you gave her your number, megan." you say, stepping back. "you let her call you pretty. and you think i’m just supposed to sit there and smile while she plays this whole innocent act in front of you?"

her voice trembles. "i didn’t reply."

"you didn’t stop her, either."

you don’t say let’s break up. you just say, "maybe we need space." and megan? her eyes red and shoulders trembling, just nods. no begging. no yelling. just silence. and that actually might hurt more.

she leaves the bathroom first. you wait until the door closes before letting yourself cry.

days pass.

you still see her across campus, in the shared classes you now sit far apart in. she looks smaller, almost like she’s folding in on herself.

you almost want to run to her. but you remember the text. the smirk. the way she looked confused when you told her it hurt. so you don’t.

gabriela, of course, notices. and now that you’re ‘on a break’ she turns it up. first, it’s subtle.

"oh sorry, didn’t know you two weren’t sitting together anymore." she says loudly in class, like it’s some kind of news.

then it’s the coffee. again. the same iced oat milk latte now with a little pink sticky note on it.

you looked pretty tired today, thought you could use this ☕❤️ - g

you don’t drink. for some very obvious reasons.

by the end of the week, gabriela starts worming into your friends. laughs with them too easily, shares inside jokes you’ve never heard before and suddenly, you’re not being tagged in the group’s stories anymore.

one day, you walk into the student union and see her sitting in your usual spot—your seat, laughing with people who used to sit beside you. one of them looks up, sees you, and hesitates. but they don’t say anything.

gabriela does. she waves and mouths "you okay?" so you just turn around and walk out.

it was one random day where you’re sitting alone on the campus bench near the main hall. you weren’t planning to be here. it’s just where your feet stopped walking.

the breeze is cool, but not enough to calm your thoughts. your phone’s been silent all day and even the birds seem to know you’re not really in the mood. you’ve been holding yourself together for weeks now. but today? it feels heavier and lonelier.

you scroll aimlessly on your phone. click your screen off and then on again. still nothing.

elsewhere, megan is watching gabriela laugh with your friends again. but it doesn’t feel so casual this time.

gabriela leans into one of them, whispering. they all laugh. megan watches one of them glance at her, then quickly look away. something twists in her chest.

later, gabriela catches up with megan after class. "megan!" she calls happily, like they’re best friends- no. like they’re lovers. megan stops walking.

"hey." gabriela says, touching megan’s arm. "are you free right now? i wanted to—" but megan isn’t listening.

her eyes flick past gabriela’s shoulder. and then they light up almost immediately upon seeing you’re sitting on that bench with your head down. and suddenly, nothing else matters.

"megan?" gabriela steps in front of her, trying to get her attention. "i said—" but megan doesn’t even look at her. she pushes past, literally brushing her shoulder and walks straight to you.

your heart stutters when you hear footsteps approaching fast. you look up and there she is. your sweet megan looking all winded and flushed. her hand holding her bag like she ran across campus just to get here.

"y/n." megan says, a bit out of breath.

"meg?" you blink, clearly stunned. she doesn’t wait for another word. she just sits beside you like it’s the only place she wants to be.

"i was so stupid." you open your mouth, but megan cuts you off. "no—listen. i thought she was just being nice. i wanted to believe that. but she wasn’t and now she’s trying to replace you. trying to replace us. and i let her get too close. i’m so sorry, baby."

you stare at her. megan’s breathing hard, eyes shining like she’s about to cry.

"i miss you." she says. land i don’t care if you hate me right now. i just need you to know that gabriela never even had a chance. it’s always been you."

you don’t say anything at first. you just look over her shoulder and see gabriela standing in the distance, watching and clearly stunned. exactly how you once felt. you turn back to megan. and for the first time in weeks, you smile again.

you don’t speak for a moment after she says it. megan’s eyes are locked on yours like she’s afraid if she looks away, you’ll disappear.

"you’re really late." you whisper softly to megan. she swallows hard. "i know."

you cross your arms over your chest while looking at megan. "you ignored me while she was crawling all over you."

megan nods quickly, fidgeting with the sleeve of her hoodie. "i did. i-i’m literally the worst."

"literally?" you raise an eyebrow. "scientifically." megan blurts out. "i ran the numbers."

she opens her tote bag and pulls out a folded piece of paper. you unfold it slowly. it’s a handwritten bar graph titled, ‘times i’ve been an idiot in the past three weeks.’ you snort at it.

"i was going to make it in excel." she says sheepishly, pushing her glasses up, "but you stopped answering my texts so i kind of panicked."

you cover your mouth, trying not to laugh. "you’re such a loser, mei." you mumble quietly but loud enough for megan to hear it.

then megan leans in, hopeful. "but like, your loser?" you look at her. messy hair. anxious eyes. notebook paper graphs and all. gosh.

"yeah. my loser." you says softly. megan grins so wide her whiskers dimples show.

then she reaches into her bag again. "i also made you this." she pulls out a keychain. it’s a tiny pixel heart. "it’s from that game we played last summer." she says, voice quieter now. "the one where you said if we were video game characters, you’d always pick me."

she hands it to you carefully. like it’s fragile. like it means everything.

"so… do you forgive me?" megan asks, her eyes filled with hope. you don’t answer right away though. instead, you loop the keychain onto your bag before standing up and hold out your hand.

"buy me a hot chocolate and maybe i’ll think about it." you say while looking at megan. she stumbles up so fast she almost drops her phone. "yes. absolutely. i brought my punch card. you get a free one if—"

"megan meiyok skiendiel."

"yeah. right. i’ll shut up now."

you take her hand. you’re walking away together when you glance over your shoulder, just once. and gabriela’s gone. and this time, you’re the one who won.

the campus is warm under the golden hour light. you’re walking beside megan, sipping the hot chocolate she bought you. extra whipped cream, because she said you deserved it and listening to her nerd out about something you don’t even fully understand.

"so technically." she says, pushing up her glasses, "the multiverse theory means there’s a version of me out there that never messed up, and we’ve been together the whole time."

you raise an eyebrow. "so you’re blaming parallel universe you for this entire mess?"

"i’m just saying. it’s possible." megan shrugs making you laugh. and she grins hearing that sweet sound of your laughter. and for the first time in what feels like forever—it’s easy and it’s light again. until.

"oh my god." you whisper, abruptly stopping in your tracks. megan follows your gaze and freezes. stupid gabriela turning the corner. with her perfect hair, her fake smile and her eyes locked right on megan.

"nope." you mutter. "same here." megan says. you waste no time and grab megan’s hand and bolt away.

"this is ridiculous." you gasp for air while ducking behind a vending machine with megan. then you spot the janitor’s closet. open and empty. you don’t need to think twice. so you dive in and pull megan with you.

the closet door barely clicks shut before your back hits the wall. you gasp when you feel megan’s already on you. her glasses fogged, her jaw tight and her eyes burning.

"you’ve been running." megan says lowly, bracing a hand beside your head.

your breath catches in your throat. "megan—"

"shut up." she whispers, tugging you in by the collar. "you owe me." her thigh slips between yours, and your knees almost give out.

"thought so." she grins. the dangerous type of grin. you try to answer, but her mouth silences yours, rough and desperate and starved. her hands swiftly slide up your thighs, taking her time. taking everything.

"you’re not walking out of here the same." she mutters, biting down on your lower lip. and damn she’s right.

when the door finally creaks open, the hallway’s quiet. you step out first with you cheeks flushed, skirt crumpled beyond saving. megan follows behind, hair a wreck, glasses crooked, lips pink and smug.

someone passes by and does a double take to make sure they’re not hallucinating or something.

megan gently wraps her arms around your small waist and keep walking with that stupid smug grin on her face.

#megan skiendiel #katseye #katseye x reader #katseye x female reader #megan skiendiel x reader #jeeseth #dew’s 🍈

769 notes · View notes

zombiigrll · 9 months ago

Text

──────────────────────────────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

IMMUNE? ⋆｡°✩ carl grimes x immune!reader .ᐟ WORD COUNT .ᐟ ⭑ 2.1K ꩜ .ᐟ WARNINGS ⭑ hurt to comfort?, use of y/n, blood, zombie apocalypse stuff ofc, post-terminus era, references/slight spoilers to twd 5x2 ?? petname (angel - which also did we all collectively agree that carl would call his s/o angel? i see everyone use it i have before too its so cute .ᐟ SUMMARY .ᐟ ⭑ you get bit, but nothing happens. ꩜ .ᐟ A/N .ᐟ ⭑ hey guys... its been a minute... (45 days COUGH COUGH) i am so sorry i have been SO BUSY and i didnt even realize i had this fic almost completely finished in my drafts so i decided why not finally finish it!! (which is also why the ending might be a bit weak because i also have no written anything for 45 days LMAO) my favorite thing about the whole science behind zombisim is all the theories of if you could or couldn't become immune so i wanted to write a little fic because i love... zombie science.. nerd alert!!! ☝️🤓 <- me but also whats a carl grimes/zombie fanfic writer without writing at least one immunity fic!! hope u guys enjoy!!

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────────────────────────────────────

everyone knew you were clumsy. you'd always have to be with someone, no matter what. that's how much people worried about you.

there had been plenty of times where you had been close to getting bit, and if you were alone, you would've been bit.

but now, you and your group were back on the road after the prison had fell. you all met up at a terrible place called terminus, and almost died if carol wouldn't have shown up. it was dangerous, and terrifying. but you had carl on your side, as always. he was the person who had saved you so many times. he was like your personal bodyguard.

you guys had eventually ended up at a church with a priest named gabriel. you felt uneasy being there. gabriel seemed, well, unstable. rick saw it too, telling carl to keep his guard up.

but after a while, everyone was inside the church, laughing and having fun.

you spot bob walking outside, which catches your attention instantly. no one else really seemed to notice, so you turned over to carl.

"i'm gonna go outside."

"do you want me to go with?" he asks, immediately sitting up.

"no, it's fine. i think i saw bob go out there. i wanna go check on him." you smile at him, standing up and walking over to where you saw bob go.

but when you stepped out, he was nowhere to be found.

"bob?" you called out, walking forward a bit more as you looked around for him. "where'd you go?"

you walked a bit further, leaning your arm on a tree as you looked past further into the distance, searching for any sight of bob.

but, to your luck, you were snuck up on. you heard a growl to your side, where your arm was leaning, and then a pain shot through your forearm.

you let out a loud shriek as you fumbled for your knife, stabbing the walker who was still attached to your arm in the head. you kicked him off, breathing heavily.

you could feel your heart pounding out of your chest.

you glanced down at the walker who was now laying dead on the ground, gripping tightly on your knife as you processed what had just happened. you lifted up your pained, bleeding arm.

"no... no, oh, my god." you dropped your knife and began wiping away the blood that was profusely leaking out of your fresh bite wound. "shit..."

you stared at your arm for a moment, attempting to catch your breath while watching your own blood drip onto the floor beneath you.

the doors to the church busted open, snapping you out of your daze. carl, rick, and michonne stood at the door, staring at you.

carl stepped a bit closer. "what happened? are you okay-" he stopped as he spotted your arm. his face fell flat and his eyes widened.

"it snuck up on me.." you quietly and breathlessly responded, tears falling from your agonized face. "i was looking for bob."

rick runs up to you as he realizes you had been bit. he grabs your arm, his face a bit panicked as he starts speaking. "we have to cut it off."

"no!" you tugged your arm away from his grip, holding your arm from him. "we don't have the stuff for that!"

"stop yelling." rick sternly ordered, putting a comforting hand on your shoulder. "let's go inside. i'm sure gabriel has the stuff for it."

you anxiously nodded, stepping toward the church with carl by your side.

"i'll get gabriel." michonne said, walking towards his office. "find somewhere for her to sit."

you take a seat in one of the rows, still holding your arm tightly.

"what the hell happened?" glenn asks, quickly walking over to the three of you with maggie by his side.

"she got bit." rick runs a hand through his hair. you look to your side and spot carl, just staring blankly, his expression the same as when he first saw your bite just moments before. he was speechless, and afraid.

you held your arm tighter as the pain increased, blood seeping through in between your fingers as you clenched your jaw. your breathing was progressively getting more and more ragged and uneven the more you panicked.

"i don't want you to cut my arm off.." you protested, your voice high pitched and wobbly. you closed your eyes tightly, a few tears falling from your eyes.

"we have to." rick shook his head. "otherwise you'll become one of them."

"i don't care." you sobbed, gripping tighter and tighter onto your arm. "i can't do it. i probably wouldn't survive either way, we don't have proper stuff for it." you could tell it was difficult for them to understand what you were saying through your sobs. "i just want to wait it out."

rick eyes widen, along with everyone else who were crowded around you.

carl finally steps closer, grabbing your other hand tightly. you could spot tears falling from his eyes. "please, y/n. i'll be with you, it'll be okay. please i.. i can't lose you."

you looked up at him through your lashes, pressing your lips together. "i can't, carl. i can't."

...

they had moved you to one of the rooms in the church that had something you could lay on. they tied your wrist to a pole and stood in the room with you.

you could barely keep track of what was happening. you genuinely felt fine, besides the side effects from losing blood.

"can you wrap my arm up..?" you requested. the tickling feeling of your blood dripping down your arm becoming too much, and you also wanted to test if that was what was making you feel sick.

being immune wasn't even a thought in your head yet. but you were just creeped out about not having any of the same side effects that anybody else had when they'd gotten bit. you were sweating, but you weren't feverish, that's just how the weather always was.

"yes, of course." glenn grabbed a thing of gauze out of his bag, going up to you and carefully but tightly wrapping it around the bite. he also grabbed a nearby rag to wipe the access blood that had been dripping off of your arm.

"...thanks." you sighed, looking away from everyone.

they were all just staring, waiting for something to happen. but nothing was. the awkward silence and suspense was killing you. you saw the sun starting to come up through the window, which means it had been quite a few hours since you had gotten bit.

you've seen people last a day, maybe the tiniest bit over a day, but you noticed that they always had obvious symptoms by now. and you still didn't.

you blew a raspberry, looking around the room. ".. i don't feel anything."

"what?" carl squinted in confusion, his voice still a bit brittle from crying. "like, you're numb?"

"no, like.. i don't feel any symptoms of turning." you laughed at how idiotic your sentence probably sounded to everyone.

"so, you're saying you're immune?" carls voice changed from being upset to just pure confusion.

"i don't know." you shrugged, tapping your foot on the hardwood floors. "i seriously don't know what's going on. the only time i felt sick was when it first happened and i saw my blood dripping. i feel fine right now, a little lightheaded, but i think thats from the bloodloss."

"look, theres no such thing as being 'immune.'" rick shook his head at your statement. "it might just be.. taking a while to settle in."

"dad, can you have a little faith?" carl turned to rick, glaring slightly at him before turning back at you. "i believe you."

everyone else seemed really skeptical about what was happening, exchanging confused looks with one another.

"we'll keep her in here for a little while, alright? if she still doesn't feel anything by tonight, then we'll untie her." rick sighed, looking down at you. you had been with everyone since the start, being there when carl reunited with rick and everything, so you could sense everyones panic when they first saw you get bit. and now, you could sense their pure confusion. people in our group have gotten bit before, but they'd show signs almost immediately.

"i can stay with her if you guys want to leave." carl said, sitting down right next to you. "i'll let you know if anything happens."

everyone agreed and left the room.

you laughed to yourself, looking over at the door.

"are you okay?" carl asks, looking at you anxiously.

"i'm fine." you turned your head over to look at him. "this is just so fucking weird. and we don't even know where bob went. i'm so confused right now. nothing is making sense." you let out another light laugh, shaking your head in honestly disbelief.

"maybe you're the chosen one." carl laughs, smiling at you. "i really hope you're being honest. i.. i don't think i can handle losing you."

you look at him with a lopsided smile, happy to hear how much he cared. "i wouldn't lie to you about this. i genuinely don't feel sick at all. i mean, i feel gross, but not in a 'i'm dying' way. more in a 'i just got my arm bitten into' way." you tried to make light of the situation, despite being terrified. carls expression stayed a bit worried. "..sorry, not funny. i don't want to lose you either carl. you're the best thing to ever happen to me, you know?"

his concern turned into a smile at your words. he leaned forward and hugged you tightly. all you could do was put your hand on his back, due to your other hand being tied up still.

"i love you." he mumbles into your shoulder.

you laugh, leaning your head on top of his. "i love you too."

...

a while passed, yet you still felt perfectly fine. your arm felt odd though, of course. you had been bitten into after all.

carl stayed by your side, telling you stories and just conversing with you to keep your mind and his off of the whole situation while everyone was out searching for bob.

you moved your arm up to your tied up one, itching at your tight bandages. “i want these off…” you dramatically complained.

“we should probably check on your arm anyways. even if you feel fine, there could still be something messed up with your arm.” carl says as he rotates his body towards your arm, carefully untying your arm looking at you for permission.

you nod, and he proceeds to take the bandage off. the teeth marks had dark bruises and dried blood around them, and your veins were darker and more apparent around the bite. it looked unreal.

you quickly looked away from the wound, shuddering. “holy shit.” you closed your eyes tightly.

you could hear carl stumble over his words as he tried to figure out what to say. “i… it… is it supposed to- um.. look like that?” he let out a nervous laugh, moving his hand to comfort yours.

you returned the nervous laugh, looking back at the bite momentarily. "i don't- i don't think so?"

your body was violently shaking, unsure what to do or what was going on. would you still need to cut your arm off? or would it still be fine, despite looking like that? you knew that you'd have to hide your arm for.. well, ever, if you decided not to cut your arm off. it could cause so many different issues if people outside of your group found out.

carl proceeded to grab anything he could find to clean your wound, as well as new bandages. you two sat in silence as he carefully cleaned your arm, the only sound being your light winces of pain as he applied the antibacterial ointment he luckily found.

he wrapped your arm back up and planted a quick, soft kiss onto your bandaged wound, looking back up at your flustered face with a smile afterward.

your face was hot, and you quickly averted your eyes away from his out of embarrassment.

he put his hand on your cheek and kissed your forehead, then pulled you into a hug right after. "i'm so glad you're okay."

you were shocked, but let out a flustered giggle before returning the hug. "thank you.." your smile kept growing and growing. then, the words "i love you." finally left your mouth.

he broke the hug and looked at you shocked, but then his big smile came back. "i love you, too, angel."

─────────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────────────────

#🌙 — maxines fics #carl grimes #carl grimes x y/n #carl grimes x reader #the walking dead #the walking dead x y/n #the walking dead x reader #twd #twd x reader #carl grimes angst #carl grimes oneshot #carl grimes fanfiction #carl grimes imagine

1K notes · View notes

technomancer--emy · 1 month ago

Text

I wanted to show off my process on this D&D character I made with chatGPT, step by step

This took me several hours to make

Ethics notes:

For the fabric swaths I used fabrics off of google. In the future I will use fabric uploaded to sites that are in the public domain.

I also created this with the training data turned off, so any reference images I used were not used to train the AI. Turning off training data locks the chat into the chat alone.

Above is the finished project.

Below the read more, you'll see the majority of the process used to create this image. The full conversation with chat is around 50 pages, so I'll just post the highlights here.

First I started with the basic sketch, simple axolotl person

Next, we made her a mage

Next I gave the AI this fabric to work with for her cloak

And that resulted in this

Next we started working on the color

Next I gave the AI the fabric for the hat

And I gave what I wanted to be in the crystal ball

And I asked the AI to make her a little cuter. I think the word 'cuter' resulted in a complete redo of the art style.

After spending some time getting the art style back, we got the background involved, the story is set in a post apocalypse, I wanted to do a water color background

Next, finishing details, a dagger and a bell and some birds in the crystal ball. The results were a bit awkward.

Finally, I added a bit of glow and made the face cuter, smoothed out the more awkward details and I tattered the robes.

This took me somewhere between 4 and 5 hours to make and something like 50 pages of reading to achieve.

For the D&D nerds, her name is Ayula. She's a triton celestial warlock and her patron is a servant of Celestian the Sky Wanderer. Her game took place east of the sword coast on an island called Alaron. I'm thrilled I could bring her to life.

#ai artwork #ai discourse #ai art #ai artist #ai illustration #chatgpt #D&D

337 notes · View notes

sunarryn · 4 months ago

Text

DP X Marvel #4

Danny floated upside down on the ceiling of Peter’s room, arms crossed, legs bent at the knees like he was lounging on a hammock made of gravity denial. Peter, sitting at his desk, was scrolling through his phone like it owed him money.

“They’re going to kill each other." Peter muttered.

“No, they’re not.” Danny replied with the confidence of someone who had been literally dead and come back twice. “They’re going to get along just fine.”

Peter glanced up. “You said that about the Avengers and the ghost diplomats and Nick Fury.”

“Okay, yeah, but in my defense, the ghost diplomats started it. And Nick Fury is allergic to happiness.”

Peter pinched the bridge of his nose. “Danny. You’re asking me to introduce my best friends, who are just barely okay with you being an undead space god, to your best friends, who still think WiFi is a government conspiracy and wear combat boots to weddings.”

“Sam wears combat boots to everything. Including funerals.”

“That’s not helping.”

Danny floated down to the floor, his hair slightly flickering with ghost energy. “It’ll be fine. I told Sam and Tucker that MJ and Ned are chill. Nerd-chill. They’re excited.”

Peter looked deeply unconvinced. “You told Tucker that MJ hacked the Midtown security server just to add meme slides to Principal Morita’s presentations, right?”

“Obviously.”

“Does Sam knows Ned runs a fan account for you called @GhostBoyz4Life?”

Danny blinked. “… No. But I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

A knock came at the door.

“Too late.” Peter whispered. “It begins.”

Danny opened the door with the confidence of a man who did not fear death (because he was already legally dead).

On the other side stood Sam Manson, black crop top, heavy boots, dark lipstick, and the permanent scowl of a goth with a vendetta. Next to her was Tucker Foley, looking way too smug in his custom tech goggles and bright red beanie. He was holding an experimental PDA device that glowed faintly.

Behind them, MJ stood in a green coat and vintage combat boots (Sam’s eyes lit up) with a book in one hand and sarcasm dripping off her like perfume. Ned Leeds wore a “Protect Danny Phantom” pin, Spider-Man socks, and carried three boxes of Filipino pastries he insisted were necessary for cultural diplomacy.

They all stared at each other.

The room was silent for 0.2 seconds.

Then Sam said, “Nice boots.”

MJ blinked, then tilted her head. “Thanks. Yours scream ‘will stomp a man’s spine for breakfast.’”

Tucker leaned over to Ned. “Is that… a compliment?”

“Dude, I think that was foreplay.”

“Nice.”

Danny clapped his hands. “Okay! Everyone’s here. No one’s dead. The apocalypse has not begun.”

Sam gave him a look. “It’s been two minutes.”

“That’s basically peace.”

Peter stood awkwardly in the background, shoulders tense. “Uh. Drinks? We have water. And… slightly haunted Gatorade.”

“I’ll take the Gatorade,” Sam said.

“You would,” MJ replied.

They sat down. Danny floated above the couch. Tucker immediately synced his PDA to Peter’s Stark tech on the coffee table. MJ opened her notebook and started casually sketching Danny’s floating form like it was a zoo exhibit. Sam leaned back with her boots on the coffee table. Ned passed out pastries like a diplomat on a sugar mission.

“So,” Sam said, making pointed eye contact with Peter. “What’s it like dating a glowy undead chaos elemental with emotional repression?”

Peter blinked. “That’s… a lot to unpack.”

“Not really,” MJ said. “She just summarized your entire relationship.”

Danny floated over and dropped onto Peter’s lap. “Hey. I’m sensitive.”

“You phased through the floor last week because you saw a cat video that made you cry,” Peter muttered into his hoodie.

“It was moving, Peter. The kitten found his mom.”

Tucker, now halfway through hacking into Midtown’s cafeteria system, called out, “Hey, MJ. That was your cat video, wasn’t it? You uploaded that one.”

MJ looked up with pride. “Yep. I tag them ‘Emotional Terrorism’ for searchability.”

“Respect.”

Sam sipped her haunted Gatorade. “So, MJ. You do social commentary, internet chaos, and low-key surveillance?”

“And light arson,” MJ added. “For the cause.”

Sam smiled. “We’re going to get along just fine.”

Tucker turned to Ned. “And you’re the tech guy?”

Ned beamed. “I’m the guy in the chair.”

Tucker’s expression became serious. “Do you prefer JARVIS-style systems or emotionally unstable AI assistants that may or may not turn evil?”

Ned considered. “I want to say JARVIS, but I respect the chaos.”

Tucker fist-bumped him. “You’re alright.”

Peter looked around. “I… I think this is going well.”

Danny kissed his cheek. “Told you.”

Then Sam pointed at Ned. “So. You run a fan account for Danny?”

Peter groaned. Danny grinned.

Ned turned red. “I-it started before I knew he was real! I thought Phantom was like, a cryptid!”

“You posted a thirst thread called ‘Top 10 Times Phantom Could Have Murdered Me and I’d Say Thanks,’” MJ added.

Danny made finger guns. “Classic.”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “You into ghosts?”

“I’m into not dying during ghost attacks. And he’s cool.”

“And hot,” MJ added.

“And hot,” Ned agreed.

Peter glared at the ceiling. “I regret everything.”

Sam smirked. “Relax, Spider-Boy. We’re just saying your boyfriend’s aesthetically terrifying. In a good way.”

Peter blinked. “You know I’m Spider-Man?”

Sam and Tucker both turned to him. Sam said, “Babe, please. Danny told us ages ago. We just didn’t say anything because we enjoy watching you squirm.”

Tucker added, “I knew the minute you tried to fix the router and webbed it to the wall.”

Danny snorted. “Peter once tried to fix my toaster with web fluid. I didn’t have toast for three days.”

“I’m under a lot of pressure,” Peter muttered.

“Y’all are so dumb in love,” MJ said, flipping her sketchpad around. It was a doodle of Danny and Peter holding hands while ghost fire circled their feet. The title? “Dead Boyfriend Energy.”

Tucker leaned in. “You draw fanart?”

“I draw evidence.”

Danny was thriving.

Sam and MJ were now discussing ghost anarchism and the ethical implications of haunting billionaires. Tucker and Ned were building a hybrid device that could probably hack the Pentagon or at least reroute Peter’s homework. Peter looked overwhelmed, but he wasn’t hiding. Not like before.

There was no pressure to be Spider-Man or to be the boyfriend of a ghost king or to be the guy who survived the Snap. Just… friends. Laughing. Eating. Arguing about which one of Danny’s powers was the hottest.

(Fire hair won by majority vote. Peter voted for glowy eyes.)

Later, when everyone had fallen into that comfortable lull of full stomachs and half-charged phones, Danny leaned into Peter’s side and whispered, “Told you they’d get along.”

Peter smiled into his hair. “Okay. I admit it. You were right.”

Danny grinned. “Say it louder.”

“No.”

“Louder for the Realms to hear.”

“You’re such a drama queen.”

“Ghost king, thank you.”

Peter pressed a kiss to his temple. “You’re the weirdest thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Danny beamed. “You’re welcome.”

And in that little dorm room—filled with chaos and cult jokes and mismatched friends who all knew a little too much about alternate dimensions—Danny felt something he hadn’t felt in a long, long time.

Home.

#danny phantom fanfiction #danny phantom #danny fenton #peter parker #spiderman #dp x marvel #spiderman fanfiction #spider man #crossover

180 notes · View notes

fuckyeahfraxus · 1 month ago

Text

Fraxus Week 2025

is in course of preparation! There have been two mod changes on this blog and we are still on a tight schedule in our private lives but this Fraxus Week is the one time of the year that we will not miss out on in fandom life. We will also be catching up on all the wonderful fanarts and fics and content that has been posted in the regular fraxus and character tags - you may have noticed us in the shadows, already liking lots of the stuff haha.

ANYWAY- like last year, Fraxus Week will take place from August 31st till September 8th. One Week plus two bonus days.

For the first step, we want to ask YOU guys to send in ideas for possible prompts that can be picked from. So, feel free to comment on this post with your ideas or send a message or an ask. Below we will put a list of all the prompts that have already been used in previous years.

Secondly, we want to ask if anyone would be interested in drawing and providing a banner for the official Fraxus Week post. So if you wanna, feel free to message us as well!

That is all for now. We will keep you updated! Message us if anything is unclear, if you have questions or just wanna say hello!

Your Fraxus Mod Team

Prompts from previous Fraxus Weeks:

Two bros chilling in a hot tub

Wine and Blood / Scars and Flowers

Breaking Stereotypes / Going against type

Proximity / Reunion

Art/Musical/Rockband

Fighting each other/Fighting side by side/Force of nature

Guilty Pleasures/Indulgences

Court/Council/Jail

Face the past/Imagine the future

Busted! or Secretly being a couple already and coincidentally encountering another secret couple during vacation

Dancing in the Rain

Height of Summer

Learn how to love

Transformation

Sports & Competition

Hidden moments

Dusk/Dawn

Moonlight/Shooting Star

Solace

Haunted

Mischief and Debauchery

Guildmates / Family

Mythology Au/Crossover

Videogame/Movie Au/Crossover

Soulmates

Demon possessions/Dragon hoards or Demon in disguise x Angel undercover

Early mornings/Late nights or Sunrise/Sunset

Deadly/Savage

Fruity

AU rivals team up or Canon verse first Unison Raid

Master(s)

Lightning struck

First Meeting/Growing old together

He likes guys

Enemies to friends to lovers/Friends to lovers

Casual (e.g. clothes/conversation/etc.)

Drunk on kisses/alcohol/power/life/etc.

Losing control

Weird Habits

Proposal/Wedding/Engagement

Tarot/Legends and Mythology

BDE Couple (Big dick energy? Big dork energy? Big dumbass energy? You decide, these nerds can be anything)

Unstoppable/Freed the Dark and the Thunder God

Night in/Night out

Mischief

Spa/Vacation/Hot springs

Hope/Despair/Complicated/Easy

Sweet treats

Seasons

Next generation/Adoption/Two Dads are better than one/The guild kids’ cool embarrassing Uncles

Pride

First kiss or Mutual Pining

Power couple or Competing/Competitive

Makarov

Patching each other up/Taking care of each other

Modelling/Weekly Sorcerer/Interview

Mythical creatures/Zodiac/Gods/Four horsemen of the Apocalypse

Post war

Crossover

Sharing

Morning/Night routine

Reverse

Training/Sparring

Quirks/Habits

Gaming

Spoiling each other

Playful shenanigans

Motion sickness

Beach

Music

Comfort

Fantasia

Camping

Unison Raid

Blue Pegasus

Cooking & Baking

Thunderstorms

Clumsiness

Interfering friends

Flirting/Flirting gone wrong

Night

Confession

Anniversary

Dance into summer and/or Dancing in the rain

About damn time and/or Platonic flirting turns not so platonic

Library and/or History and Myth

Go to hell

Matchmaker(s)

The beauty and the beast/The beauty and the demon/The beauty and the dragon/etc.

Pretend relationship and/or Rumors

Dirty fight/Sweet love and/or Cruel/Tender

Reimagine a canon scene/Possible alterations and/or additions

#fraxus #fairy tail #freed justine #laxus dreyar #fraxus week #fraxus week 2025 #ft100yq #ft 100 years quest #freed x laxus #admin post #ft

97 notes · View notes

dandylovesturtles · 6 months ago

Text

oh yeah so Yes pretty overwhelmingly won the poll so you guys only have yourselves to blame for seeing this nonsense I will probably not do much more with lol

anyway I've been mentally calling it the Draxum's Kids AU or Step-brothers AU because I didn't come up with anything creative

high level premise is that, due to ~mystic shenanigans~, Draxum from the OU (post-movie) gets pulled through a portal to another dimension, about a year behind the OU dimension, where he kept the turtles and accomplished a lot of his human eradication goals but was also a terrible father. Draxum sees the writing on the wall that his AU self's foolish actions have led to an impending apocalypse and finds the AU's Mikey (who is only called Boxshell) to help him get back to the original dimension. But as soon as he meets back up with Boxshell his Dad Instincts kick in and he realizes he can't just leave "his" kids here to die, so he decides to kidnap all four of them back to the original dimension.

this is complicated a bit by all of them hating each other

under the cut is about 3000 words of Draxum getting abducted

Draxum would really appreciate it if they could make it six months without a potentially world ending threat.

This one seems particularly suspicious. Giant black swirling vortexes giving off massive mystic energy signatures don’t simply appear, not for no reason. The fact that Michelangelo had been the first to notice it, cocking his head to the side like a bloodhound hearing a rabbit, was not putting him at ease, either.

“Soooo,” says Leonardo, swords already drawn and held loose at his sides, “what is it, Draxy?”

That is not his name, but because the situation is serious, he answers anyway. “You expect me to know? I’ve never seen anything like that before.”

“Come on, you’re our mystic guru! So get with the guruing!”

Draxum just gives him the look that the kids are coming to call his “not mad, just disappointed” face. He doesn’t have any more answers than he did two seconds ago. On the plus side, it doesn’t seem like anything is coming out of the dark swirly vortex, nor is anything getting sucked in. It’s just hanging there, in the sky over the Hidden City, menacingly.

“Doesn’t it feel familiar?” asks Michelangelo. Unlike Leonardo, he still hasn’t drawn any weapon. He’s just watching it, curious.

“I don’t remember the Krang portal looking like that,” says Donatello. “We could see the Prison Dimension on the other side. That’s just… an indistinct vortex of doom.”

“Not like the Krang,” says Michelangelo, but he doesn’t offer any further guesses. He just watches it with big eyes.

“But we gotta do somethin’ about it, right?” asks Raphael. “We can’t just leave it up there.”

“Well, if it’s not hurting anyone,” says Leonardo slowly.

“Just because it is not doing anything in this instant does not mean it will stay that way,” says Draxum.

“Yeah, yeah.” Leonardo slices through the air, a blue and less chaotic looking portal opening up. “Let’s check it out, Dee. Get some energy readings and all that nerd jazz. The rest of you, stay here in case it’s dangerous.”

“Oh, but it’s fine if it’s me,” says Donatello, but he steps up to the portal anyway.

Draxum feels uneasy, because he doesn’t know what that thing is or what it will do, and because he doesn’t want the two of them going alone. “I’ll come with you,” he says, and when the kids give him a look, he quickly adds, “I may notice something that Donatello would miss.”

“I don’t miss things,” Donatello snaps back, but that’s factually untrue, so Draxum just grunts in response to it.

“Sure, goatman cometh,” says Leonardo airily. “Let’s just go!”

Just to be sure nothing bad will happen, Draxum steps through first. The twins follow him.

They’re on a rooftop now, just under the vortex. Draxum had been expecting… something, but there are no threats, no signs of anything amiss. It’s a bit windy, and the vortex is making an ominous buzzing noise, but that’s all.

“Can you tell anything from here?” asks Leonardo, looking between the two of them. Donatello has his goggles down and a holoscreen up, incomprehensible numbers scrolling by at a fast pace. For his part, it seems the same to Draxum here as it did across town.

Donatello’s readings slow, and he raises the goggles again.

“It’s… definitely massive, but I can’t tell much more than that. Though… I think Mikey was right. That it feels familiar.” He looks at his brother, something complicated in his expression. “Like we’ve seen something like this before.”

“I was afraid you’d say that,” says Leonardo, before turning his attention to Draxum. “How easy is it to make an interdimensional portal, anyway?”

Draxum snorts at this question. “For a pocket dimension, relatively simple. For an actual, separate world… Theoretically, it could be done, but it would take a massive amount of mystic energy and decades of experience. Especially if one does not have a mystical object to channel a portal through, like the key that was used for the Krang’s prison dimension.”

“But Mikey was able to do it,” Leonardo points out.

“Yes. And need I remind you it almost killed him.”

“You needn’t,” he snaps back. “I’m just saying… if it can be done, it really seems like someone’s trying it right now.” He still has his swords out, watching the vortex warily. “And what’re the odds that they’re coming here for a friendly visit?”

Draxum doesn’t argue there; he’s already treating whatever this is as hostile. Better to assume wrong and apologize later than to let down his guard and let one of his kids get hurt.

There’s the sound of footsteps behind them, and the three of them turn at once, startled. “Well, there’s Mikey,” Leonardo is already saying in a resigned sort of way, like he knew Michelangelo would join them before he gave the command.

“Sorry, Leo,” says Raphael, landing with heavier tread on the rooftop just behind Michelangelo. “He gave me the slip.”

“Guys, it’s fine!” Michelangelo argues, in that tone he uses when he feels like he’s being babied. “I’m telling you, whatever’s making that portal isn’t here to hurt us.”

“And you know this based on what evidence?” asks Donatello.

“It’s a feeling!”

“Ah yes, feelings, how quantifiable.”

“Well you don’t have any evidence it’s evil either, Donald!” Michelangelo retorts.

Draxum is about to step into the middle of this quarrel when Leonardo stops it for him.

“Guess we’re about to find out who’s right,” he says, eyes locked on something above them, and Draxum looks up just in time to see that there’s movement coming from the vortex now. “Dee, take Raph; Miguel, you’re with me.”

“Wait, guys, we should just-” Michelangelo tries again, but a shimmering blue portal under his feet stops him. Leonardo and Michelangelo reappear in the sky above, Leonardo using his portals to stay airborne while Michelangelo catches himself with his mystic powers. There’s the roar of a jet, and then Donnie is after them, his shimmering mystic tech carrying himself with Raphael dangling underneath.

And of course they’ve left him on the roof. Draxum sighs. Children.

He pops several vines on the roof and uses them to propel himself skyward, eyes searching for what has come through the portal, if that’s what it is. It’s difficult to see against the black coloration, but the boys seem to have gathered under a figure in a dark cloak, who emerges slowly from the middle of the vortex. It seems to cling to them like dark, black ink, the mystic energy drawing out behind them in long, gooey ropes.

Draxum knows he is still many meters away, but even still, he doesn’t think the figure is very large. It’s a surprise, given that the vortex itself is at least fifteen or more meters across, but the figure coming out is short and slight, not even as big as Michelangelo. Of course, that doesn’t mean much; plenty of yokai are small statured naturally, as are some humans. Even Lou Jitsu is small, now, but still mighty. He can’t let the size of the person put him off guard, especially when they have summoned such massive mystic energy.

“Hey!” cries out Michelangelo. “Can we talk to you!?”

The figure in the cloak seems to startle at being addressed. For a moment, they hang in the air, the ropey energy of the vortex growing thicker on their arms and legs. Almost like it’s trying to pull them back.

The figure seems to realize this, too, because they jerk forward and raise their arms in a panicked arc.

Fire comes out - dark flames with incandescent blue cores that Draxum knows are hotter than any normal flame. If the boys are struck, the damage will be severe. Thankfully, Michelangelo yelps and whirls aside before he can be burned.

“I don’t think they’re interested in talking!” calls Donatello.

“That’s alright,” yells Raphael, his ninpo lighting his body red, “because I’m interested in smashing!”

The midair fight begins in earnest now, the boys darting around the figure with their weapons drawn, even Michelangelo. The cloaked figure fights back with the flames, dark and so hot that as Draxum’s vines carry him closer, he can feel the heat coming off of them. Yet, despite the intensity of the attacks, Draxum notices that they are unwieldy and unpracticed, like the wielder has no real experience in fighting, and certainly not midair against so many opponents. Add to that, the strange, inklike properties of the still-spinning vortex seem to be actively trying to pull the figure back; each time they make progress, the moment their attention is drawn by one of the boys, they’re yanked back another few feet.

Draxum sprouts a few more vines off his main one, so that he can move more freely. Aerial combat has never been his forte, but he can make it work. So long as none of those desperate fire attacks burn through his vines and send him tumbling to the ground (he can only hope, in that event, that one of the twins notices him).

The cloaked figure is still attacking wildly, and the boys have to move fast to keep out of the way. It’s easier for Michelangelo and Donatello, who can stay airborne indefinitely; Leonardo, meanwhile, has to use his portals to catch himself and Raphael periodically, portalling them back to the sky or giving them a portal to ground to launch off of. This leaves them open to attack.

Draxum couldn’t have made it in time if he’d wanted to, but in the moment he isn’t thinking he has to.

One of the unfocused black flames strikes Raphael; his ninpo projection protects him from being harmed, but he still lets out a gasp of surprise as it burns rapidly through the ninpo itself, leaving him exposed. Donatello swoops in to catch him before he can fall, and all the boys hang back for a moment, stunned by this development.

“What was that!?” Leonardo calls out, portaling above Donatello and landing on his constructed battleshell (Donatello says, “Oof!” loudly, but doesn’t throw him off). “It just burned through Raph’s shield like it was tissue paper!”

“Augh… that felt… weird.” Raphael is rubbing at his temple with his fingers. “Raph did not like that.”

“Alright, clearly this guy is dangerous.” Leonardo is tense, eyes focused as he watches the cloaked figure yank free of the stringy ropes of magic from the vortex, coming closer. “But see how the portal’s trying to pull them back in? We just gotta get them close enough and send ‘em back where they came from.”

He glances over at Michelangelo. Draxum looks, too. The boy’s brow is creased, like he isn’t happy with this outcome, but his eyes are focused on Raphael.

“...Yeah,” he says finally, and gives his nunchucks a swing. They light up with his orange ninpo, the bright fire a stark contrast to their enemy’s dark flames. “Let’s send ‘em back!”

The boys spring back into action, and Draxum follows suit, his vines carrying him up, closer to the vortex. Now he can feel more of the thing’s power directly, a great gusting wind that pulls rather than pushes. He hangs back from the direct fighting and instead watches the boys closely, should he need to intervene the way he hadn’t for Raphael. If the fire can eat through their ninpo, then any of them being struck would be disastrous - especially if one of the others could not catch them in time.

The kids are succeeding in their gambit to push the figure back towards the vortex, but that means they are also increasingly putting themselves in range of its dangerous reach. The ropey strands of dark mystic energy reach out like hungry tendrils, latching onto scales before being cut or shaken off. Leonardo has all but abandoned the fight against the figure and instead puts his efforts into slicing the strands apart any time they touch one of his brothers, either directly with his katana or with a well placed portal. He leaves the strands that attach themselves to the mysterious person, and they wrap more firmly around the legs, arms, and neck of the one in the cloak.

And that’s when they finally speak.

“No!” they cry out, in a voice unmistakably juvenile. “No, please! I just want to escape - don’t make me go back!”

Michelangelo stops short, bobbing uncertainly only a few meters from the screaming figure (a boy, Draxum thinks, but cannot be sure). “Guys,” he says hesitantly, lowering his weapons. “I really think we should-”

Whatever he was about to say is interrupted by a burst of flames from the cloaked boy’s hands, spiraling directly towards him.

“MIKEY!” shout several voices at once; Draxum only realizes a beat later that one of them is his. He’s the closest, and he moves fast, putting himself and a wall of vines between the flames and his son.

The flames make such short work of the vines, it’s almost comical. Draxum watches as the fire races down the towering stalk he’s made, eating them away and leaving nothing behind, not even ashes. The vine Draxum was standing on is, of course, completely obliterated, and he feels the swoop in his stomach as gravity starts its relentless pull.

“Dad!” he hears Michelangelo call out. The boy reaches a hand toward them, and in his panic Draxum reaches back. They are only a few meters from each other, and then less and then less, fingers almost touching-

But it is something else that grabs him first.

The vortex’s dark energy feels disgusting and slimy where it touches Draxum’s fur, like a leech pulled from some noxious bog. Its tug is ferociously strong, and he realizes that if Leonardo had not been quick, if the magic had wrapped around any of his brothers’ limbs the way it’s wrapped around Draxum’s arm, disentangling them would have taken massive effort. As it’s going to take to free him now.

There’s a yank, and he’s ripped away from Michelangelo and towards the vortex.

“No!” screeches the cloaked boy, and sputtering flames spill out around him, forcing the turtles back before they can move in to rescue him. “No! Get away! Leave me alone!”

“Gladly!” Draxum shouts back, ripping and yanking to try and free his arm. “Just close this foolish portal and go back where you came from!”

“I can’t!” the boy screams, and he sounds so wretched, Draxum almost feels some sympathy for him. “I can’t! I can’t!”

“You must!” Draxum argues, because he can tell. The energy has wrapped too securely around the cloaked boy now; there will be no freeing him. The portal he made is impressive, especially as young as he sounds, but it is not complete. He could not be severed from it, even if they tried to help. In fact, if they fully pulled him from the vortex, it would likely kill the child.

No; he must go back. But… is there still time for Draxum?

“Barry!” he hears the boys call out. They try to get close, but another burst of searing heat from the panicked boy in the vortex keeps them from advancing. More of the stringy ropes of magic are wrapping around Draxum now, on his arms, his torso, his legs. His neck. They yank him back, hard, and he gasps as the air leaves his lungs. The mystic energy slithers over him like a living creature, wrapping him up more and more securely in its snare.

It seems… there is not.

“NO!” screams the cloaked boy, one last panicked, desperate cry, but then his voice is abruptly silenced. There’s a roaring noise, incomprehensibly loud, and Draxum faintly wonders if this is how it sounds when a star collapses in on itself.

The last thing he sees as the portal closes around him is Michelangelo’s face, eyes wide and afraid, mouth open in a shout, hand outstretched as far as it can go.

And then all is dark.

…

When Draxum wakes, he’s laying on the ground in an alley in the Hidden City.

He feels a flash of something markedly unpleasant when he realizes he’s alone: sadness, betrayal, perhaps even, Titan forbid, loneliness. It seems the boys have left him to his fate and gone home.

Then he remembers the portal, and Donatello and Michelangelo’s guess that it was interdimensional. It’s likely the boys don’t know where he is. It’s possible he’s not even in the same time.

Or the same world at all.

Disturbing as that thought is, the part of the Hidden City he can see from his vantage point seems familiar enough. He recognizes this as a part of the old downtown, not far from where he and the kids had been fighting the cloaked boy. Even if this isn’t his time, at least he should still be able to navigate - that makes things easier.

He gets to his feet, shaking the soreness out of his limbs. He hears something pop, and is suddenly immensely glad the boys aren’t here after all. He’d rather not endure another round of teasing for being “old”.

The Hidden City he travels through seems largely the same as the one he left, to a degree that he starts to wonder if it wasn’t an interdimensional portal after all. If it was, the dimension he’s in now seems to have only slight variations.

Or that’s what he thinks, until he makes it to the nearest portal back to New York City.

There’s a checkpoint set up in front of it, one that didn’t exist here before. There are guards standing sentinel, ushering through a line of yokai and occasionally asking questions. They don’t seem hostile to the yokai, but it does seem like precautions need to be taken for… some reason.

More startling to Draxum are the crests that adorn banners hung around the checkpoint, matching emblems blazed on the uniforms of the officers.

His family’s crest.

It seems this dimension is quite different after all.

#dandy fanfiction #step-brothers au

127 notes · View notes

starlostastronaut · 8 months ago

Text

─ MCTC VOL 2 | MASTERLIST

PAIRING - stray kids x reader feat. a secret guest appearance

GENRE - various, each one shot specified below

WORD COUNT - ?? total

CONTENT WARNINGS - poly pairings in some one shots, suggestive/sexual content, each one shot will be more specified in its post

TAGLIST - comment or send ask to be added (if you're on permanent taglist, you're automatically added - you can check here)

LINKS - main masterlist ~ series playlist

AUTHOR'S NOTE - hiii! welcome to the 2024 advent calendar! if you're new here, mctc stands for moony's countdown to christmas, a series i did last year and because i'm unoriginal we are reusing that title lol. enjoy reading <3

important: order of one shots isn't necessarily posting order. these are a work in progress still, therefore more information will be added as i post them. and i already said it in a different post, but it's exams time in uni and it's a lot. i can't promise all one shots will be posted before christmas, but i will finish them eventually

01 / BED OF ROSES

⤷ idol!chan x reader ; angst, highschool sweethearts, estranged relationship, workaholic chan, happy ending

⤷ chan was the perfect boyfriend, everything you could have wanted. until his work consumed him

02 / ENGLISH LOVE AFFAIR

⤷ idol!minho x backup dancer!reader ; one night stand, exes to lovers

⤷ it was supposed to be just a fling, to release some of that tour stress. but minho didn't account on falling in love

03 / SUPPOSED TO BE

⤷ werewolf!changbin x shadowhunter!reader ; shadowhunters au, victorian era, enemies to lovers

⤷ when you find an illegal werewolf club, it's your duty to shut it down. but what you didn't expect to find was an ally

04 / DREAM STATE

⤷ demon!hyunjin x witch!reader ; magic au

⤷ in your demonology class, you learned about summoning. and it wouldn't be you if you didn't try those skills right away

05 / SKIP THE SMALL TALK

⤷ singer!jisung x barista!reader ; coffee shop au

⤷ per your manager's briliant idea, your coffee shop now has live music. featuring a cute singer and friends who can't stay out of his bussiness

06 / BUTTERFLIES

⤷ idol!felix x actress!reader ; strangers to lovers, meet-cute

⤷ you loved fashion shows, seeing the creative clothes designers spent hours to perfect. what you didn't love were the after parties, until he came along

07 / DANGEROUS GAME

⤷ faerie king!seungmin x half mortal!reader ; cruel prince au, fantasy au, forbidden romance

⤷ scandals, lovers... it's all fun and games to the faerie king. until it comes to his royal advisor

08 / MORNING SUN

⤷ grounder!jeongin x delinquent!reader ; the 100 au, apocalypse au, enemies to lovers, forced proximity

⤷ there wasn't supposed to be life on earth and yet there they were. creatures trying to kill you. or were they really?

09 / STEAL YOUR HEART

⤷ jeongin x reader x seungmin ; college au, established relationship

⤷ what started a stupid bet between your boyfriends, turned into a competition for boyfriend of the year

10 / MOVES LIKE JAGGER

⤷ jock!chan x reader x nerd!hongjoong ; college au, idiots to lovers, friends to lovers

⤷ falling for your best friend was a big deal on its own. and when the popular guy decides to meddle, it's about to become a problem

#( all works⎯ 🗃 )#( mctc vol2⎯ 📂 )#neverendingdreams #stray kids fanfiction #stray kids x reader #bang chan x reader #lee minho x reader #seo changbin x reader #hwang hyunjin x reader #han jisung x reader #lee felix x reader #kim seungmin x reader #yang jeongin x reader #fluff #angst

111 notes · View notes

gemmafuckingscout · 3 months ago

Text

severance yuri/femslash fanfic recs

i've been seeing other severance fic rec posts so i'm posting my own! omitting tags to save space so please make sure to check them before reading! fics with an asterisk are ao3 locked <3

The Stone by @whoreiorcats, Gemma/Helena, 19.9k words (in progress), Explicit

Gemma has escaped, but Mark is left behind. She finds herself inexplicably drawn to the very woman who has kept them both prisoner. Lots of food is eaten.

Knife At My Throat by @gemmafuckingscout (me!), Gemma/Helena, 29k words (complete), Explicit

A year after the season 2 finale, Helena and Gemma are still picking up the pieces of their life. But when Gemma unknowingly matches with Helena on a dating app, things couldn’t possibly end well.

buzzcut season* by @ohwhatagloomyshow, Gemma/Helena, 4.9k words (complete), Explicit

The first thing she does exclusively for herself is buy a pair of clippers with Ricken’s credit card and give herself a buzz cut. Helly R. pushed Mark S. out of the hallway, into the waiting arms of his wife. What does that mean for Gemma? Post S2E10, Gemma tries to come to terms with her new freedom and the family that fell apart without her. That also means coming to terms with Helena Eagan.

i never sought to love you* by @ohwhatagloomyshow, Gemma/Helena, 4.6k words (in progress), Mature

Pre-canon, the fall before Gemma's disappearance - a year after their last IVF treatment, Gemma decides to pop into a local perinatal loss support group on a whim. There she meets Helly Riggs, a beautiful and equally awkward outsider who listens to her and sees her in a way Mark hasn't in a long time. Helena's motive for meeting Gemma becomes complicated as she wrestles with her duty to Lumon and her father vs. her first sincerely intimate relationship.

I have considered the lilies by @spareham, Gemma/Devon, 67.8k words (complete), Explicit

Gemma pushed her hands down over her own hips where the fabric hugged them, thanks to the clips at her back, hidden from her view. She'd be lying if she said she'd never dreamed of becoming a bride… just never this kind. So white. Red-less. Her fingers trailed over her stomach, picking at the border, the hem. She couldn’t ride a horse in this. She chuckled to herself, instead. [uh oh! pre-lumon gemdev o clock!]

no grave can hold my body down (i’ll crawl home to her) by fivemillioneyes, Gemma/Devon, 2.2k words (complete), Explicit

This is the only control Devon can give her.

and when you think about me by @sapphichaze, Gemma/Devon, 3.6k words (complete), Teen

“What would you teach?” Gemma asked as she sat down on a chair, gesturing for Devon to sit next to her. She seemed genuinely interested. “Probably, like, how to survive a zombie apocalypse.” Devon sat down. “You know, useful stuff.” “Now who’s the nerd?” Gemma said with a small grin on her lips. Devon shoved their shoulders together, feeling the heat even through the fabric.

Control by @spareham, Gemma/Devon, 1k words (complete), Explicit

Gemma's regaining control, Devon's helping.

it’s april (yes,april;my darling) by @ichabodcranemills, Gemma/Devon, 1.2kwords (complete), General

Gemma and Devon and the perfect spring day

Not on Your Own by @sapphichaze, Ms. Casey/Helly, 1.3k words (complete), General

“You look like you need some help, so, maybe, uh,” Helly squeezes her eyes together, regretting the words almost as soon as they leave her mouth, “I could do a wellness session on you, instead?”

try to remember, try to forget (but you'll never be the same) by Shadowcrawler, Ms. Casey/Helly, 1.6k words (complete), Explicit

Ms. Casey offers to help Helly R. out with something. prompt: Helly R./Ms. Casey, first time, cunnilingus

The Fifth Temper by virtuousweisz, Cobel/Hellyna, Ms. Casey/Helly, 68k words (in progress), Explicit

Harmony Cobel takes an interest in Helly R., whose outie is more than willing to abuse her power in every conceivable way to tame these erratic and debauched behaviours.

Asal by @spareham, Devon/Reghabi, 12.7k words (complete), Explicit

the second s2e6 ends, this lil fic begins. fluffy canon divergence

Cobel/Natalie by @machrealgirl, Cobel/Natalie, 2.8k words (complete), Explicit

Cobel x Natalie hate sex with a side of character study.

72 notes · View notes

pollka1 · 17 days ago

Note

hehe you know me 😈 I need more climbing class. (Josh and Chris.) idc if it’s romantic or just best friends wise, but can you write smth where they’re having a sleepover (childish type stuff lol like sleeping in the same bed & laughing at nothing.)

SO SORRY FOR THE LATE REPLY OH MY GODDD 💔💔💔

Sharing beds like little kids

Summary — Josh and Chris talk nonsense at a sleepover

Josh’s bed wasn’t really meant for two people, but that didn’t stop Josh from inviting Chris over for a sleepover, which really just meant junk food, horror movies, and Josh aggressively bullying Chris into dealing with his feelings for Ashley.

Chris was lying on his stomach with his head turned toward Josh, cheek squished into a pillow. Josh was flopped out flat like a starfish, his knee halfway into Chris’s side.

“Move your bony leg, man,” Chris grumbled.

“No can do. I’m nesting.”

“You’re so dumb sometimes.”

“And you’re in love with Ashley. Let’s talk about it.”

Chris groaned and buried his face in the pillow. “Josh, c'mon—”

Josh propped himself up on one elbow, face lit with a mischievous grin.

“I’m serious. The way you look at her? It’s like a teen romcom. You’re one accidental snowball fight away from a Christmas special.”

Chris snorted. “You think I haven’t tried?”

“Tried what? Nervously standing beside her and waiting for the perfect opportunity?”

Chris rolled onto his side to face him, pointing a gummy worm accusingly. “I have attempted conversation, thank you very much.”

“Asking her if she’s seen the latest MythBusters episode doesn’t count as flirting.”

“It was relevant! We're both into that, anyways.”

Josh laughed so hard he had to cover his mouth to avoid waking the house. “You absolute disaster of a man.”

Chris was giggling too, half from exhaustion, half because Josh’s laugh was always contagious.

Josh wiped his eyes. “Okay, but really. Cabin trip. Low light. Warm cocoa. You pull her aside and you say: ‘Ashley, I like you. In a ‘I think about you a lot’ way.’ Boom. Nailed it. Done.”

Chris stared. “That’s…kind of smooth?”

“Thank you.”

“Where’d you steal it from?”

“Beats me.”

They both burst out laughing again, this time full-bodied and loud, kicking each other under the blankets.

Eventually, the giggling faded into soft chuckles. They both lay back again, exhausted but warm, that sleepover haze settling in where everything felt slower and more honest.

“Thanks, though,” Chris said quietly. “You always kinda know what to say.”

Josh turned his head slightly toward him.

“It’s a gift. Like my charm. And my incredibly sculpted eyebrows.”

Chris rolled his eyes. “Uh-huh...”

“Don't act weirded out. You love me.”

“Not in front of the gummy worms.”

“Fair.”

Josh reached across the bed lazily and flicked Chris’s forehead. “But seriously. You’re gonna be fine. You’re a good guy. And Ashley’s smart, she’ll see it.”

Chris smiled, soft and sleepy now. “Hope so.”

Josh stared at the ceiling for a second, then said, “Okay, new topic.”

“Shoot.”

“What’s your zombie apocalypse survival plan?”

“Easy. I find Mike and use him as a distraction.”

Josh cackled. “Damn!”

“Dude has abs. Let the zombies appreciate them while I run.”

Josh nearly choked on a piece of licorice.

Chris grinned. “Okay, what about you?”

Josh tilted his head. “Step one: gather snacks. Step two: head to Canada. Step three: start a punk band in a forest bunker. Call it ‘Dead Inside’.”

Chris gave him the most judgmental look he could manage while lying down. “That’s awful.”

Josh nodded proudly. “Exactly.”

They lay there for a while longer, letting the silence stretch out naturally.

Chris yawned and pulled the blanket tighter around himself. “I’m gonna pass out soon.”

“I’ll sing you a lullaby.”

“Don’t you dare.”

Josh cleared his throat dramatically. “Ohhhhh Christopher, my dearest nerd…may your dreams be zombie-free…”

“I hate you.”

“You love me.”

“I regret this friendship daily.”

“You’re smiling.”

Chris couldn’t help it. “Yeah.”

They both closed their eyes, still grinning.

As Chris drifted off, the last thing he heard was Josh whisper:

“Don’t forget. Cabin trip. Hot cocoa. Dramatic snow kiss. Make it happen.”

Chris didn’t reply.

He just smiled into the pillow.

#until dawn #josh washington #writing #josh until dawn #supermassive games #tiktok #until dawn game #chris hartley #christopher hartley #chris until dawn #video games #writeblr

40 notes · View notes

coffeewasamistake · 4 days ago

Text

Mighty Wing(woman)s

Written for @steddiebingo 's Splash of Summer mini event

Prompt: Drive-in Movie | rated T | word count: 564 | Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington & Robin Buckley |

Outside of a semi-apocalypse, Hawkins didn't have a lot to offer to the idle youth on a weeknight. It was nearly July, but the weather was still too cold for an impromptu dip in the lake. Not that Eddie ever wanted to put a single toe in these treacherous waters after what had happened with the Upside-Down. Still, Steve, Robin and Eddie were bored, and even if the town was deserted, there were still a couple of places open at eight p.m. on a Wednesday.

So to the drive-in they went.

Generally speaking, Eddie or Robin was the one to select which movie to watch. Steve rarely ever joined the fight when it was time to choose, and preferred not to answer when they asked him if he wanted to watch whatever horror movie or film d'auteur each was sponsoring. They often ended up rolling one of Eddie's many dice to make a decision, and Steve followed.

This time, however, a movie had caught his eye.

"Top Gun."

Robin stopped her tirade about the weird movie she was trying to sell to Eddie. "What?"

"We're watching Top Gun."

The best part of following Eddie or Robin's lead almost every time when it came to movies was that any time he did have an opinion on the subject, they couldn't say no.

"The army movie?" Eddie asked, "with the planes"?

"I like the trailer. It looked promising." Steve simply said.

Eddie opened his mouth to argue, then immediately closed it. He couldn't say anything against that. Not when Steve had chosen a movie he wanted to watch, for once.

"Top Gun it is!" Robin declared.

Two out of three. Top Gun it was.

Fifteen minutes in, and Eddie had to admit the movie wasn't so bad. At least for army propaganda.

The actors weren't that bad on the eyes…

"Shit, Tom Cruise is so hot."

Eddie had not said that. And Robin was a lesbian. Which left only one person.

Eddie stared incredulously at Steve, who had just described a man as hot.

He was dreaming. It was the only plausible way Steve Harrington, former king of all jocks, straight boy supreme, had just said a male actor was hot.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" Steve asked.

"Why am I…" Eddie spluttered. "You…" He took a deep breathe. "I didn't know Tom Cruise was your… type, Stevie."

Steve's slow smile set fire to his veins.

"Oh, well, I have more dept than you think. I have broad tastes when it comes to people, I suppose." He started playing with his hair. "Is Tom Cruise my type? Not really. He's hot and all, but would I ever go for a guy like him? No, I don't think so." He paused for a second. "Iff you really wanna know… I kind of have a thing for nerds."

"Nerds?" Eddie repeated, feeling suddenly faint.

"Yep." Steve smiled at him. "Nerds."

The sound of Robin's voice was a shock to the system.

"I need to pee. A lot. I won't be back before at least fifteen minutes."

Quick as a viper, she grabbed Eddie's head. Her eyes were drilling holes into his skull. "Now shoot your shot or die."

She clambered down the van, and suddenly they were alone.

"So…" Steve's voice wavered. "Do you…"

Eddie grabbed Steve's neck with both hands and crushed their mouths together.

#steddie #steve harrington #stranger things #eddie munson #stranger things fic #platonic stobin #steddiebingosummer

51 notes · View notes

lunarriviera · 9 days ago

Note

I'm sorry to send this to you. but like im going through a crisis and i need some like thoughts?? i have never like. found men attractive? but i do like yaoi so much. it's so fun. <3 but like men. alone, attractive? i don't see it. 20something and im still going through it.

is this a normal experience, or am i tripping?

thanks of taking the time. i love your blog, and thoughts. cool if you don't want to answer this though. <3

oh bb how can i NOT answer this? anyway i’m done with my little jobs for the day, it’s midnight and i’m crawling into bed with the cat walking back and forth across my face to think about, you know. love and yaoi and girls and your ask.

i guess all i can do is talk about me, which isn’t very helpful but i’m all i really know about? i grew up in deeply rural texas on what i now call apocalypse farm, where my dad—and none of what i am about to say is an exaggeration—was the leader of a truly weird fundamentalist-zionist doomsday cult. i stayed with my grandmother when i could but my childhood was genuinely bonkers. i was homeschooled and taught that the end times were coming any day now, so we had to, for some reason, stockpile a lot of weapons and MREs and israeli army surplus gas masks. fortunately my aunt gave me a piano, and i taught myself to play it (and paid for piano lessons by selling eggs from my chickens, which chickens also paid for ballet class). as well, i had an amazing small-town librarian who smuggled me all kinds of books i should not have been reading, as well as classical music and opera records. these things saved me.

because, you know, i also liked girls. a lot. and i couldn’t even let it surface in my mind, it stayed well concealed from my consciousness, even as i thought about them all the time. i was just laughing with my librarian friend last weekend about all these romantic pictures of helen slater as supergirl i had pinned up on my walls; i had written off to like paramount studios or whatever and sent them $3 and they sent me back the helen slater fanclub packet. and wow was i ever a fan. (“why didn’t my parents notice this?” i said, marveling, and bates said, “i don’t know, i guess they just thought you were a comic book nerd.”)

i was 19 and a college dropout before i could admit that i had a massive crush on my "best friend” who was a willowy brainy kindred spirit. we would go dancing together and read books together, argue and listen to music and cry about poetry and boys, and the crush rapidly progressed to being in love. i told her one night and she absolutely flipped out. so i crawled back into the closet, dutifully dated an abusive guy until i was about 23, when he dumped me and i immediately, like that same week, fell in love with a maddeningly unreliable poet. we were a mess but we were crazy about each other. unfortunately she already had a boyfriend, so she left to go to paris with him (honestly looking back it’s hard to blame her, i’d have done the same thing myself). i crawled back in the closet some more until i fell a third time, my senior year of college, for (again) my supposed best friend. she was a fragile but hilarious painter from maine, blue-blooded, out of my league, worldly and well-read and deep like a clear pool of water. but i was very difficult to love so she left as well, for san francisco. (years later we became friends again. simply put, she was the love of my life. i think some people have many, but for me, it would only ever be her.)

more or less broken, i went to grad school in britain, and met the first guy i’d ever really loved, an indian physicist who was glowingly gorgeous and read novels and watched films and was funny and smart and very, very gentle and kind. hey, good enough, i thought. i can be bisexual! so we got married. i was immature and stupid and i fucked it up in so many ways i can’t even tell you in a blogpost. we divorced five years later and i became a zen monk, because i thought, well i just hurt people. when i promptly fell in love again with another monk, my teacher said to me sharply, just don’t wreak any weird karma. but i did. i screwed up again and left a trail of hurt behind me. mostly my own.

what i know now, no longer schrödinger’s hetero or an armchair bisexual, is that as a lesbian, all of that pain mostly happened because i could just not be okay with who i am. i was raised by abusive homophobes to think queerness was equated with damnation. decades of therapy later, i’m still insane but at least now i know i’m gay. and if i’m going to hell i’m okay with that, all the interesting people will be there anyway. i was lucky in my friends, and lucky to find music, literature and especially poetry. without those i wouldn’t have made it at all.

so i would love to be able to give you some one-sentence definitive answer about why i’m also a fujoshi, but ultimately all i’ve figured out—and this is after a doctorate and about ten years of academic research, mostly on fanfic and social media/memes, some now on danmei—all i can come up with is that gender is an elaborate practical joke, and i can see myself in all kinds of characters. one of the things about getting older and traveling around (and i hope you can go lots of places, that’s really the best thing, is to spend time in as many different worlds as you can) is that eventually you realize you’re just as at home in an etruscan tomb in italy or the sonoran desert in méxico or a crowded shopping mall in kyoto, as you are in the place that’s supposedly your home. since that’s the case, why shouldn’t i identify with, i don’t know, a young classically-trained fujian portraitist who decides to work as a police sketch artist? haven’t i had to remake myself from the ground up as well? haven’t i had to forge my own moral compass out of twigs and glue and tape, because no one gave me one i could trust? why shouldn’t i identify with fei du, when […redacted for all our sakes, but trust me, my surviving parent has a frightening amount in common with fei chengyu]. between you and me, i hope i never see another dick in person as long as i live (store-bought is fine), yet i’ve found this strange haven in reading and writing about the beings who cart them around, falling in love with each other. the world is a wild place, you know. everyone is surviving the best we can. some people climb glaciers. some people eat cars. you can go to google scholar and type in “danmei” and get 200 academics’ version of My Thoughts on Yaoi. i’ll be at a conference in october with a bunch of them, and at another one next spring, giving my own papers fulminating as well. we’re all just out here in the trenches trying to unravel this one. but ultimately what i know, is that, per of all people lin-manuel miranda, whom i promise i am not given to quoting: love is love is love is love is love. and when obergefell vs. hodges passed, and we all found out, and the white house was lit up with a rainbow, to my total surprise my legs gave way and i wound up on the floor in tears, whispering numbly “now i can marry anyone i want.”

sure enough, this got long and i didn’t even put in any pictures of helen slater. but soon you’ll meet her/them, or even him, and it’ll feel right or it won’t, and either way you’ll know more about who you are, because you’ll have new data points. it’s like‚—here’s what it’s like. it’s like the time i was staying in venice at a convent, because i couldn’t afford a hotel, and it was august so everything was closed, and i had to eat at the only restaurant open, blindingly expensive, and put it on a credit card i couldn’t pay off. and i had the most magical tomato gazpacho, and a plate of cold chicken, and a glass of ice-cold white wine, sitting by the water on guidecca with waves lapping against the stone. and then i had to run back to the convent before the doors locked for the night or they wouldn’t let me in, my sandals in my hand so i could run faster on the cobblestones, and to this day that remains the best dinner i’ve had in my life. but you can’t starve, while you’re waiting for the perfect meal. you have to eat all the other things between now and then. and really good yaoi is like an amazing warm satisfying filling baked potato, or maybe a buttery grilled cheese, or steaming baozi with tangy sauce to dip them in. you can eat that too. it’s fine. and when you meet one of the loves of your life, she’ll laugh and point at a sticker or a photo or the cover of a danmei or manga and say, who’s this guy? tell me about him. and listen while you tell her the story of how he fell in in love.

#anon ask #this is not for anyone but nonny #hi nonny ilu & i promise it is all going to be better than ok

30 notes · View notes