#I'll move it to ao3 when I can make an account

[randomlywanderingmoth]

It was certainly one way to stave off boredom.

The ear piercing shriek sent a good number of Servants running- or flying, in Melusine’s case. “What’s going on? Are we-” her mind moved as fast as her mouth. In the corner of the room was a box, lid open, covered in bugs, all ablaze with her queen’s magic flames.

The second into the room was Barghest, holding Baoban Sith in a princess carry, who tumbled out of the knight’s grasp to hug her wailing mother. She growled, scraping at her horn... before lowering her hand. “Where. Is. Oberon.”

The third into the room was the last Master of Humanity, somehow faster there than either Medusa or Achilles. “I heard a scream, is everything-” and now it was her turn to see the smoldering pile. “... oh for crying out loud...”

The best way to describe an Oberon in motion is to imagine a man who had only ever heard of a brisk jog, now attempting to replicate it. For what it’s worth, he did a remarkable job managing to outpace the Tam Lin. A Singularity in Britain’s woods was remarkably helpful, given the strict orders to not cause more wreckage to the Singularity than the Singularity itself.

========================

The fae king slipped Melusine by turning a corner and shrinking down before she caught up, leaving her blasting off into the forest. Slipping Barghest was a simple matter of speed, taking to an insect mount that would not need to deal with the uneven ground and outrunning her. He could hear her roars behind him, and cackled.

What perhaps he wasn’t expecting was to suddenly get caught, tangled, as though on a spider’s web.

Baoban Sith stepped out from behind a tree.

“Neat trick,” he grumbled, knowing better than to revert to his full size while snared by wires this strong.

“And here I thought you could only speak in lies~” Baoban sang back, playing with her shortbow.

“Not true, watch. You’re a stupid little brat. See?”

Oberon’s snark was cut off with several cuts. He was more surprised, than pained, though, given Baoban Sith hadn’t touched her bow. The littlest fairy, then. It would explain the string currently binding him.

Out from behind another tree stepped a different answer- Tristan. Not a Tam Lin, but the knight whose name the girl now beside him once stole. “Over the line,” he declared with a level tone.

“What? Calling her a stupid little brat? Can’t you tell when I’m lying?” Oberon presented a cheshire grin.

“The insects for Morgan.” There was something remarkably quaint about a Knight of the Round Table, ostensibly Morgan’s greatest foe, working in her interests. It was more worrying that a normally very poetic individual like Tristan was being curt.

Not that Oberon could be worried by something like that. “She hangs out with insects like you all the time, I didn’t think she’d mind-” perfect interruption, one high-speed fist into his shrunken form. The wires mercifully dispelled, leaving Oberon at full size under the little living jet fighter, Melusine’s fist pressed firm against his ribs. Small mercy they didn’t shatter.

“Excuse me-” and it all stopped. Baoban and Tristan, fingers on bowstrings. Barghest, skidding to a stop before she could swing down her titanic sword. Melusine, arm back and ready to slug Oberon again.

The source of the voice leaned against a tree, having sprinted here, a bob of more softly red hair than the two with bowstrings, a short ponytail tied up to one side.

Fujimaru Ritsuka stared softly in Oberon’s general direction (more like stared generally at the scene), and pursed her lips. “You did go over a line, a little, Oberon.”

“A LITTLE?!?” Well it’s good to know Barghest’s lungs still worked. “Morgan is still traumatized! Habetrot is tending to her now! I should burn him like I burned his blasted woods!”

The Master shot Barghest a look. It was remarkable how easily such a daintly little girl could rein in history and fantasy’s greatest monsters, how easily just a soft glance could cool Barghest’s flames.

“Wow, you *are* pathetic. I expect you to turn your sword over at-”

“Oberon.” Right. Of course Master wouldn’t side with him. Nobody would side with him. He was the villain of this story, after all. Nobody should side with him.

The lack of words, as the little redhead stepped over roots and fallen branches, to squat down next to him, in such a disarmed way, and as Melusine dismounted his torso, was... “Disgusting.” He couldn’t keep it to himself.

“You have no kingly presence. You’re no divine spirit, no name to set on the Throne of Heroes. And yet here is a group of people, all your betters, dancing to your tune like a circus of flying monkeys. You’re just some pathetic, ordinary girl.”

“And here is someone who reminds me that I am only that,” Fujimaru responded with a gentle smile. Every other person there grimaced, including Oberon. Likely for different reasons.

Oberon sat up to glare at her. “Let me guess, I need to not antagonize anyone, I need to be the perfect little flower child like you. Perfectly bland like flavorless yogurt, some gross, miserable wretch that can’t even bring herself to use a Command Seal to make her pettier Servants tow the line.”

Her Command Seals did not glow.

“You don’t want to kill me. You don’t even want to punish me. You’re some trite little child that can’t bring herself to do what needs to be done, just because you think-”

Her response was wordless, taking his clawed gauntlet, lifting his arm, and pressing the claws against her own neck. Every knight at the scene tensed.

It would take him nothing to squeeze. She stared at him, with those eyes. Soft. Trusting.

He let his arm drop, and dusted himself. “You’re too pathetic to even kill,” he growled.

She took his clawed hand a second time, and pressed it back up to her neck. This time he didn’t drop his hand. “Do you want to die?”

“I want you to do what you want to do.” Show me your feelings, don’t tell me, she was saying with as many words.

Tristan and Baoban Sith had their bowstrings at the ready.

Melusine could take his head off the moment hers rolled.

Barghest’s flames were stoking back up.

And none of it mattered.

Oberon’s hand lowered again. “Ruined my mood,” he grumbled, standing up. “Ruined my fun. Come collect me when it’s time to farm. At least there I can torment things without you judging me.”

“Chen Gong’ll be there too,” she calls as he strides away.

“... farming with Chen Gong? Really?” Barghest seemed startled by it. “that seems...” she stopped herself from saying extreme, given her sword had just stopped burning.

“Well, if he wants to be punished,” the little redheaded Master responded.

That seemed to take Melusine and Baoban Sith also off edge.

=========================

That left the Tam Lin to head home, Oberon to find a corner to sulk in, and Tristan and Fujimaru, standing in a wooded forest.

Seconds passed. Tristan spoke up. “How did you know he wouldn’t kill you?”

Fujimaru glanced over at Tristan with a curious expression. Her lips parted, then she paused a moment. “He can’t be honest, even with himself. It’s a part of his burden as who he is.”

“So when he said you’re too pathetic to kill, he meant he didn’t want to kill you?”

The shorter redhead shrugged and started walking. “There’s nuance to it, but I figured as much. I figure forcing him to acknowledge himself is a punishment that should take where farming with Chen Gong doesn’t.”

Tristan nodded, then paused. “... you’re still going to punish him with Chen Gong farming, aren’t you.”

“Just a few golden apple’s worth of doors,” she wryly replies, a skip in her step.

oberon gifts morgan a gift of just bugs. Now he’s being chased by the faerie knights and now gudako must at least stop them from murdering oberon for his antics

Uh oh sisters!

[moe-broey]

Oh. Huh.

[chemococktailonthehouse]

Nightly Ritual (Lucifer x F!Reader)

Description: Lucifer tended to stay up far later than he should, and he certainly wasn't easy to convince to come to bed. You, however, had a few tricks up your sleeve.

Warnings: Fluff (that's it. that's the whole post), sleepy sleepy reader, no use of Y/N, no beta we die like men

Author's Note: This one has been sitting in my drafts for a hot minute now. I've got another one I'm working on and may not finish that has similar vibes with a touch of angst (what can I say, I know what I like). I'm not sure how much Hazbin I'll write for, as I'm not super involved with the fandom at this point. Anyway, I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it!

Word Count: 897

This has been cross-posted on my AO3 account which you can find here.

______________________________________________________________

Lucifer spent many a night in his workshop working and you spent many a night trying to pull him away from said work and into bed. Besides, what was the point of a king-sized bed if there wasn’t a king to share it with? At some point you realized that if you could get him to enter the bedroom the battle was practically won. But how could you consistently make that happen? The answer fell into your lap one night when you dozed off watching him work. He gazed at you fondly for a moment before finally scooping you up and carrying you off to bed. As soon as he deposited you beneath the sheets you pulled him along with you as he let out a surprised umph. And so this dance of yours began. You would fall asleep in his office and he would carry you to bed. It didn’t take him long for him to catch on to your little game, but he couldn’t help but play along.

Most nights you’d pull up a chair to his desk, your head moving from resting in your palm to laying across your arm as you began to drift off. Other time’s you’d sit next to him, resting your head on his shoulder as he tinkered away. Once or twice you even sat in his lap with your head buried in the crook of his neck as he hummed softly in your ear. Tonight though, you unintentionally mixed things up.

Luci heard the door creak open not too long after supper as you padded into the room. He was a bit surprised. Usually you wouldn’t start this song and dance until much later in the evening. You wrapped your arms around him and rested your head on his shoulder as you peered at his current project. Maybe you were just here to watch tonight.

“Whatcha working on?” Though, to be honest, you already knew the answer.

“Oh, just the usual.”

You fell into a comfortable silence. Every now and again you’d ask a question about what he was doing or what tool he was using, to which he would happily answer. After one particularly in depth question he turned to you, “so, you trying to pick up the tools of the trade?”

“How do you know I’m not already an expert?”

“Oh ho ho, I think we both remember what happened last time.”

You swatted at his shoulder playfully, “oh hush you.”

“I’m not the one who almost set the office ablaze,” he raised his eyebrows as he challenged you to retort.

”Well, it was bound to happen sooner or later. You should be thankful I took such a tremendous responsibility off your hands.”

“Mhmm,” you could feel his quiet laughter reverberate in his chest. He continued working, humming contently whenever you’d pepper kisses on his cheek. Eventually the frequency of your musings began to slow as he noted your breathing deepening, “you sure you don’t want to come sit in my lap?” While he didn’t want you toppling over, he was reveling in the close contact and would be damned if it ended any time soon.

“Can see what you’re doing better from up here,” the way you mumbled made it evident that sleep was soon to follow.

“You sure you’re not gonna fall asleep back there?”

“Mhmm. ‘m not even that tired.”

He turned and placed a kiss on your cheek, “whatever you say, dear.”

You did, in fact, fall asleep back there. Just as the first soft snore left your lips he felt you begin to slide to the side. He unfurled his wings, keeping you upright until he could turn around and lift you into his arms, “alright missy, let’s get you to bed.” You stirred slightly, lazily reaching an arm over his shoulder to stroke the feathers at the base of his wings as he carried you down the hall. The only clue that he had finally made it to the room was the soft click of the door before he laid you down on the bed. Before you had the chance to pull him down with you he had stepped out of your grasp. You turned to face him, worried that your plan had been unsuccessful this evening, “stay, please.”

“I’ll be right there, just need to slip into something more comfortable.” A few minutes later he climbed under the covers and pulled you to him, the warmth of bare chest pulling you in like a duckling to its mother.

You looped an arm around him once more, tracing your fingers across his back in search of those oh-so-soft wings. You huffed, disappointed to find he had tucked them away, “Luci?”

“Yes dear?”

You rubbed small circles until he finally got the hint. “Ohhh, someone sure is needy tonight, hmm?” His tone was playful, though it could be argued that he found much more satisfaction from wrapping you up in his wings than you did. And you loved when he wrapped you up. You began combing your fingers through his feathers again as he practically purred, “you know if you keep that up I may just have to start coming to bed earlier.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” there was that mumbling again as you began to drift off.

He chuckled, a soft, deep tone, “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

[effetsecndaires]

— 𝐂𝐀𝐌! 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟐

➺ PAIRING | gyutaro shabana x fem!reader.

➺ CONTENT WARNING | modern setting, gyutaro is human, camgirl reader, sex work, mention of sex, oral (male receiving - not from reader), masturbation. wc: 3k

➺ NOTE | this chapter was supposed to be much longer, but I sadly had to split it in two parts. I'm not satisfied with it at all but what's new lol 🧚🏻‍♀️ not proofread (if I read it again i might gauge my eyes out) i'll update AO3 tomorrow :3

He’s fucked. Absolutely, utterly fucked. He’s read the mail approximately fifty times already, blinking many, many times just to make sure he wasn't hallucinating.

His stomach twists and he has to swallow back the nauseous feeling in his throat. Damn it. What the hell was he thinking? He doesn’t have money to throw around like this. That damn donation had been impulsive, a split-second decision fueled by the rush of pleasure he felt on the moment.

Now it’s hitting him. Hard. His bank account is already bleeding dry, his sister depends on him and he’s been stretching their groceries for days already.

Gyutaro runs a hand through his hair and swears under his breath, tugging at the roots.

Maybe it’s not too late. He can always message the site and plead for a refund… right? Surely they can do something about it? His leg bounces anxiously as he stares at the screen, trying to figure things out.

“Onii-chan!”

He slams the laptop shut, startled.

Within the next seconds Ume is storming into his room and throwing herself at him, her arms wrapping tightly around his shoulders.

“Hey, get off me.” he tries to wriggle out of her tight embrace, though not putting much effort into it. His voice holds a note of exasperation as he turns to look at her, her arms still firmly wrapped around his neck. “what's that for?”

“I may or may not have a favor to ask…” Ume drags out.

Gyutaro rolls his eyes, though there's no actual irritation behind the gesture.

“I’m going out with my friends tonight and, well, you know, I can't exactly go out without any money. You promised I could have a little extra cash this month.” Ume announces, her voice soft and innocent, as if the right tone might do the trick. Gyutaro groans, scratching the back of his neck and looking at his lap nervously.

Great. That's exactly what he needs right now. But she’s right—he did promise her extra cash this month. Cash he just blew on some camgirl he’s gotten far too obsessed with.

His cheeks flush in embarrassment, and he tries to keep his tone neutral so as to not let it show.

“...You know we're tight on money, Ume.”

“I know, but I haven’t been out in weeks!” she unwraps her arms from him, moving to sit on his desk instead, her legs dangling off the edge. Gyutaro's heart drops at how close she is to the laptop, afraid that she might grab it and come face to face with the mail. His fingers begin to subconsciously scratch his arm as a distraction.

“I…listen, I get that,” he says, his voice strained and apologetic. “But we really can’t afford any extras right now. We’re barely covering the basics. I’m sorry, Ume.”

“But please?” she interrupts, her eyes widening in that innocent way that always makes it hard for him to refuse. “Just this once? I swear I’ll pay you back as soon as I can! Come on, please!” she interjects, her voice suddenly sharper. “I’m not asking for much! Just enough for a night out with my friends. You act like I’m asking for the world or something.”

He hates saying no to her.

He always does his best to give her everything she needs, even if it means stretching himself thin—taking on extra shifts, sacrificing sleep, and pushing through exhaustion. It’s been this way for as long as he can remember and he's fine with it, as long as it keeps Ume happy. But this time, he can’t give himself the luxury to give in, not when he’s already made a mistake that’s left them $250 deeper in the hole.

“Besides, didn't you get paid this week?” she continues.

He swallows hard, scrambling for an explanation that sounds believable.

“Yeah, I did.” His scratching comes to a halt, his hands balling into fists instead so he doesn’t give into the itch. “But I had to cover some things first. You know…bills… insurance, n’stuff. It all adds up quickly,” he says, hoping the vague answer will be enough to satisfy her. “There just wasn’t much left over this time.”

Ume sighs, muttering a dismissive 'whatever’ as she hops off the desk. Gyutaro’s guilt only intensifies when she dramatically rolls her eyes, but he knows she’ll get over it.

Right?

Fucking hell.

“Ume, wait.”

Ume pokes her head back into the room, her face twisted in a small, disappointed frown as she watches him reach into his pocket. Gyutaro pulls out a crumpled twenty-dollar bill from his wallet and hands it to her.

"That's all I’ve got right now. I’m sorry, okay? I’ll… I’ll make it up to you next month, I swear…"

He was planning on paying their groceries with that money, but he can't afford to disappoint her again and raise her suspicions.

Ume hesitates, then finally takes the money, her fingers brushing his as she snatches it from his hand.

"Fine," Ume mutters, turning on her heel and heading for the exit. Just as she reaches the door, she pauses for a second, her hand on the knob. For a moment, Gyutaro thinks she might say something, maybe even offer some kind of forgiveness. But she doesn’t. Instead, she swings the door open and leaves without another word.

As Ume walks away, her footsteps echoing down the hall, Gyutaro gets up from his chair and starts pacing anxiously around the small room, his mind racing. He can’t stop thinking about this damn mail—the cheery, oblivious gratitude of a stranger who doesn’t know the havoc she’s unwittingly caused.

He pulls out his phone and opens the app once more to stare at your message, a sick feeling rising in his throat again.

There's no going back now. He's given you the money, and you've thanked him for it. Asking you directly for his money back would be… well, that would be a terrible fucking idea, wouldn't it?

You’d probably think he’d sent the money just to taunt you and take it back, and there’s a good chance you'd end up banning him from your streams entirely.

He rakes his brain relentlessly, trying to find a solution, but there truly isn't much he can do. There’s no way he can just ask for it back—not without looking pathetic or like a complete asshole. He'll just have to ask for longer shifts, endure more sleepless nights and get the damn money back by working his ass off. Damn it.

He locks his phone and drops it onto his bed before heading for the bathroom.

Maybe a shower could help clear his mind.

-

The rest of the day goes by excruciatingly slow. Gyutaro drives Ume to school, attends class after class, but his mind is a thousand miles away. Science, history, English—it’s all background noise, none of it sticking. His thoughts keep drifting back to you, your mail, and the stupid, aching frustration that he still hasn’t figured out what to respond to you.

And then there’s the matter of the name. You want to know his name, and he'd be lying if he said this wasn't messing with his head more than the whole money incident itself.

What could he even say to that? His real name is out of the question, too risky, too personal.

Well. It should be, at least.

But the idea of you addressing him directly, calling him by his own name instead of some meaningless nickname… it’s so damn tempting.

He knows that most people wouldn't overthink it so much. If any of the regulars from your chat received an email like this—something he’s sure has happened before— they'd probably get straight to the point and ask for something specific; for you to say their name while you touch yourself or some other nasty request along those lines.

But Gyutaro is terrified—no, mortified—by the idea of speaking to you directly. He’s always been too nervous to even comment regularly in your chat, so how the hell is he supposed to mail you directly and ask you to do something just for him?

This sounds like absolute hell.

He lets out a heavy sigh. He sits slouched in the back row of his math class, barely aware of the teacher droning on about some equation he couldn’t care less about.

His eyes are glued to the screen of his phone under the desk, the cursor of the blank email draft blinking mockingly at him. He isn't even trying to hide his disinterest in the lesson— his teachers have long since given up on getting him to pay attention. He's just another body in the classroom, as long as he’s quiet and doesn’t cause trouble.

He’d much rather save what little energy he has for his part-time job, where at least he gets paid to do something.

He starts typing, then pauses. His thumb hovers over the keyboard as he reads the words back to himself:

"hi, I'm a huge fan. I was wondering if..." He stops, cringes, and immediately hits backspace.

"hey, I've been watching your streams for a while and I don't really know what to ask for..." He lets out a frustrated tut, trying not to make too much of a fuss. He deletes the whole thing, his fingers trembling slightly.

After a long pause, he starts again:

"dear vixen,”‘Dear Vixen’. Seriously? What’s this, some kind of formal letter? He stares at the empty screen, fingers hovering over the keys but unable to move. Finally, he locks his phone and crosses his arms onto the desk, glancing at the clock before burying his head in them.

Still forty minutes to go.

–

If you ask him, he’d love nothing more than to walk home and collapse into his bed to sleep the rest of the day away, but no. He had to promise Tengen that he would show up for his stupid birthday party.

Not that he gives a damn about what Tengen wants nor does he take orders from him, but he's sick and tired of everyone constantly pestering him about staying in all the time. So, to shut everyone up, he’s reluctantly agreed to go to this party he has zero interest in. At least Ume will be delighted to know he's actually made an effort to leave his room, that's a plus.

But now he’s stuck here, not only dealing with Tengen’s larger-than-life personality but also watching him parade around with his three girlfriends, all of them fawning over him like he's some kind of God or something. Just seeing him bask in all that attention, acting like the center of the universe makes Gyutaro’s skin crawl. God really does have his favorites and he sure as hell isn't one of them.

He makes a beeline for the bar and grabs a drink, more to have something in his hands than out of any real desire. The cup feels cool against his skin as he leans back against a wall, scanning the room with detached interest. People are everywhere—dressed to impress, laughing too loud and clinking glasses like this night is the highlight of their year, and he tries not to grimace when a group of Tengen’s friends spot him. Of course it has to be the Hantengu siblings, those loud, arrogant bastards.

“No way! Look who decided to crawl out of his cave!" Karaku’s voice booms from across the room as he makes his way over, a wide grin plastered on his face. "Didn’t think you’d actually show up, man."

Gyutaro grunts in response, taking a sip of his drink. "Yeah, well… here I am."

Kaigaku props an arm against the wall and leans in a little too close for his liking, his voice dropping into something almost conspiratorial. "You planning on getting lucky tonight?"

Gyutaro just rolls his eyes, but Kaigaku isn't done.

“You seen that chick in the red dress? Bet she'd go for a guy who’s been locked away for too long. They love that brooding look, y’know?" Gyutaro’s jaw tightens, but he doesn't answer. He takes another slow sip from his drink instead, the bitterness of the alcohol grounding him. Karaku leans forward and gestures with his drink, pointing toward another girl across the room. "How about the one over there? She’s been eyeing every guy in here. She'd probably be easy to get alone."

“Like I give a damn.” Gyutaro mutters.

"Oh, come on! Why not?" Karaku pushes, throwing an arm around him with a sly grin. "You’re not gonna score standing in the corner all night, man. Gotta put in some effort."

Gyutaro shrugs off Karaku’s arm with a scowl, the familiar bubbling irritation starting to surface.

“Maybe leave him alone,” Aizetsu chimes in, trying to offer a little mercy. "He’s here, that’s all that matters."

Karaku rolls his eyes and takes a swig from his cup, muttering something about doing it himself before disappearing back into the crowd of people. Aizetsu stays, though, his presence less intrusive. He doesn't say anything more, which Gyutaro appreciates.

As the night dragged on, Gyutaro found himself drinking more than he intended. One cup turned into two, then three, the alcohol numbing the edges of his growing discomfort. If he was going to survive the evening, he needed something to dull the noise—both around him and in his head.

He quickly lost count of how many drinks he’d downed, and by the time the clock hit midnight, he was pleasantly buzzed, his problems momentarily forgotten.

He found himself laughing at Karaku’s stupid jokes, let Tengen hand him another drink, and even managed a casual conversation with strangers he initially didn't care to know.

And, well…

He may or may not have gotten his first blowjob ever.

He’s not entirely sure how it even happened. One moment, he was awkwardly chatting with this girl Sekido introduced to the group—a pretty brunette in a tight black dress with an easy laugh and way too much confidence. Not even his type. She had leaned into him while they talked, her hand brushing his arm now and then, her perfume cutting through the haze of sweat and alcohol in the air. And then, somehow, they’d slipped away from the main party area, her fingers lightly tugging at his hand guiding him to a quiet, shadowed corner of the house.

Gyutaro barely had time to process what was happening when he found himself pressed against a wall, her hands deftly undoing his belt and pants as she knelt down in front of him and started blowing him.

He came embarrassingly fast, and he didn't even get to know the girl’s name before she wiped her mouth and walked away, slipping back into the crowd like nothing had happened. He'd sort of hoped to get her number at least, but he knew not to get his hopes up. She'd probably lost a bet or something — nothing to get excited about.

It was a strange first time for sure, but he's not mad about it.

-

By the time morning comes, Gyutaro is a mess. He's slept maybe an hour or two at most, the alcohol and nicotine from the night before leaving him with a pounding headache and a bitter taste in his mouth.

He's not even sure how he got back home, honestly. His thoughts are totally blacked out.

He drags himself off the couch, his body aching from sleeping in an awkward position. He stumbles into the kitchen, his mind still hazy from the previous night, searching for something - anything - to soothe his pain.

He finds some painkillers in the cabinet, dry-swallowing them before grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge. The cold liquid feels soothing on his dry throat, and he takes a few more gulps to try and settle his churning stomach.

He glances at the clock, noticing that he has just enough time to shower and get ready before work. With a sigh, he shuffles into the bathroom, stripping off his rumpled clothes and stepping under the hot spray, letting the water wash away the remnants of the previous night.

His brain won't shut off, though; thoughts tangled between trying to remember the girl’s face from last night and the constant second-hand embarrassment from his own nagging stupidity. But it’s your face that keeps slipping into his mind, uninvited, pulling his thoughts back to the main issue.

He fucked up with that one. Like, seriously fucked up.

It wouldn’t hurt to check if a refund’s possible, right? It wouldn't look good at all on his part, he knows that, but fuck. He made a mistake and he has to do everything he can to fix it.

He dries his hand in his towel nearby and reaches behind the shower curtain to grab his phone. He unlocks it, opens the OnlyFans app and scrolls down, scanning past all your posts and photos until he finally spots a small link labeled "Terms & Conditions".

With a quick tap, the page loads, filling the screen with the detailed policy in plain text.

Terms & Conditions:

Thank you for supporting my content! Before making any purchases or engaging with my services, please carefully read the following terms and conditions regarding refunds.

No Refund Policy: All payments made to me are final and non-refundable. Due to the nature of my content and services, I do not offer refunds for any reason. This includes, but is not limited to, dissatisfaction with content, misunderstandings about services, or personal financial circumstances.

Chargebacks and Disputes: Any attempt to initiate a chargeback or dispute without prior communication will result in an immediate ban from all current and future interactions. I reserve the right to pursue legal action for fraudulent chargebacks.

...And blah, blah, blah.

Well, that's settled. He’s not getting a single cent back. He can't exactly say he’s surprised, but it doesn't make the sting any easier to bear.

A notification pops up. His eyes are drawn to it — expecting another spam email or pointless app alert, but his stomach sinks for the 50th time in the last twenty four hours when he sees what it is; an automatic message from you to all your subscribers.

[Onlyfans] VelvetVixen69: Hey babes 💋 I am now making exclusive erotic audios for you to enjoy anywhere, anytime. Whether you want something soft and sweet or hot and filthy, I’ve got you covered 😉 Listen to me anytime you need a little extra thrill 🔥 The first audio is free.🩷 Stay tuned for more! xoxo Vixen

There's no fucking way. He tells himself, his eyes remaining glued to the screen for a moment too long. His thumb hovers over the screen, hesitating for a second before he swipes left, deleting the notification like it's a bad habit he’s trying to kick. Which, honestly, it is.

But there’s a time for everything. He knows he can't afford to get distracted, and if he dives into it right now, he might be late for work.

Tonight.

He’ll have to check that out tonight, once the house is quiet and he can be alone with your voice and his thoughts.

[disregardcanon]

this probably seems like a weird question from your end,but why do fanfic writers care so much about comments? aos already tracks hits and likes, sorry ""kudos"", so why are comments such a big deal to the point that people will stop writing?

okay, so i'm going to take this question very seriously and i promise it's not to make you feel bad. this is a comprehensive explanation of reasons that comments are important for me, both as a writer and as a reader

engagement vs numbers game

seeing trends

buy-in

community building

engagement vs numbers game

let's look quickly at two different fics of mine. this is the kudos count for a fic called Of First Kisses and Burnt Lips

it's old. it's been up on ao3 for almost 11 years now. 258 people liked it enough to leave a kudos, 12 people liked it enough for a bookmark, and it's been clicked on 3,859 times.

i have no clue what almost any of these people on ao3 THINK about it. beyond "huh. sure. i'll kudos that". compare this to its crosspost on ffn, where i got 5 reviews

3/5 mention it being cute. 3/5 give appreciation to me for taking the time to write it. 2/5 praise the writing itself from the attention to detail with grammar to the craft. 1/5 is an "um..." which is hard to decipher but appreciate and 1/5 is a silly reaction, but it's a reaction! look, someone felt a felling reading my thing! that made me giggle!

looking at the stats here from a purely numbers perspective, my fic DID better on ao3. it got a lot more kudos than it ever got faves or reviews on ffn. but those ffn comments are still what i think about when i remember this fic.

sure, a shear number like hits or kudos can be comforting and motivating. i'm definitely not telling you to NOT leave kudos! but the fics that i've come back to, recently, are the ones where i don't have a lot of kudos but i do have a few people who are invested in the stories and leaving comments to tell me

2. seeing trends

lets look at a few of the comments on my fic The Maid of Honor Made Them Do It

so just in these two comments, we see both commenters hone in on the same detail: my choice to include a special christian music playlist that this characters' friends made for her. a few other people in this thread mentioned that same detail, so i know this bit really worked well! it's great feedback that lets me know that a good chunk of readers agree with my characterization here.

these readers zoom in on specific details that they really liked! things that made them laugh, the absurdity of the concept, enjoying reading it, and that they could see it staged, which is a HUGE compliment for a work in a fandom for theater.

i've always had trouble with imaging where characters are in a space, how they're occupying it and moving, and how to use that for characterization purposes. however, i got more than one comment on this fic about how people could see it staged! that means that i'm improving in an area that i've always struggled with. that's huge. it makes me want to keep working on this thing! it makes me feel like what i'm doing here matters, because lots of people are picking up on similar things! they're invested enough to give me a comment! and it makes me want to keep writing for the hatchetfield fandom because some people are invested in my work here. that is BIG! seeing trends in the way that readers experience your story helps a lot with writer buy-in for a project and also for writers self-analysis.

as a commenter: this helps me JUST as much. when i really dig into what i enjoyed about a fic to tell the writer about it, that helps me analyze and articulate the strengths and things i might want to take away from the storytelling, and that makes my writing better too!

3. buy-in

this is a comment on a series that has less than 100 kudos across three fics, but has thoughtful, appreciative comments on each work. it's called Melting Pot

the commenter deleted their ao3 account. they may be one of the people who commented on the next fic, which i posted recently. they might NOT have been! honestly, it doesn't matter that much to me. this person gave me a gentle and nudge about a fic that matters to me and mattered to them at the time, and they were part of the push i needed to get back to it.

from a commenter perspective, i know that hearing a kind word can help someone keep up their motivation to write, even when i can't write in depth comments the way that i like to!

just recently i only had the time to comment "nice update" on a favorite fic of mine called Teeth That Turn. but they know that i come and i read and they know and talk to me by (user)name. because they know i care about this thing they care about! and it's way more fun to do something like this when i know i can chat with the author about theories and thoughts and ideas. and this isn't a "wow aren't i so cool other writers like me! tehehe" bragging thing, it's just evidence for the case of why comments matter?

if i didn't want this to be a two way buy-in, i'd ONLY read published fiction, you know? we're all playing in the sandbox on the playground and i like what they made. they like that i like what they made :) we're scheduling a play date to fight with sticks after school my mom said it's okay!

4. community building

now i know that i just mentioned above here why i like being a commenter and how it helps authors, as well as why i like HAVING commenters as an author. i'm still arguing those things as a lead up to this section, where i have two other points to make about community building here too.

1. you can comment on OTHER comments! if you go through and read to see what other people are saying, you can agree with them. you can add some commentary! sometimes you can make a joke! and i've only ever had fun responses from something like that. authors tend to love that their fics are getting such a response that people are talking to each other about it! like look!!!!!! my thing got you to talk to someone else about it holy shit?!??!

2. commenting on fics in your fandom builds you a good reputation and makes other authors you comment on more likely to read YOUR fic. i'm not going to post any screenshots on this one because it would be embarrassing for everyone involved, but there have been authors that i really admired who gave my stuff a try after i commented on theirs. and they've told me that's why they tried it! like obviously it's not just networking or whatever, but it's really nice to have someone give your stuff a try because you've been enthusiastic and thoughtful about theirs.

and you make friends this way! fandom friends! who want to talk about your blorbos! you get to go on little play dates in cyberspace with cool people who like what you like. you don't ever HAVE to be a writer, of course. if you don't want to throw your hat into the ring or make art or edits or gif sets or anything, that's cool. no one ever has to participate in fandom outside of their comfort zone! but if you want to, you know that you'll feel more welcomed if you have some people in your corner for it, and making friends in a space, screaming about how much you love the characters you love, and remembering that fic authors especially are just fans too will help you feel like you "deserve" to exist in the space. maybe you don't write, but you go here too. you've got a space in the fandom and your comments don't have to be, like, perfect literary essays for authors to appreciate them and get a motivation boost from them still existing and us being able to go back to them and go!!! look!!! i don't suck!!! this person liked what i did so i'm okay! :)

[stump-not-found]

A03 wrapped 2024

tagged by @tempusedax-rerum >:DDDDD

1.) Biggest surprise while writing this year?

how much people responded to bill cipher saying daddy . how people have interpreted ford's relationship to mabel in theseus' guide; i've really tried to write him as really caring for her so seeing that interpreted as him disliking her is so interesting haha

most of all tho i'm just surprised and very grateful that theseus has received any attention, it's been so so wonderful reading everyone's thoughts and seeing them engage with the fic . it really makes the entire process so gratifying, and i hope folks continue to enjoy where the story goes next :D

2.) How many WIPs do you have in your docs for next year?

i've got my erotic billford rom com Can of Snakes that's over 20k right now . it has banger titles such as "sad handjob" and "penicular sounding", so someday i'll be posting that . i think they can make it work

i also just started Weirdmageddon 2: Electric Boogaloo: Lost In New York, an AU where ford gets stan to help him finish the portal after kicking fidd's to the curb . stan and bill become besties, ford hates it, and bill isn't allowed to destroy new york until he tries a slice of 'za .

this is not accounting for the mountain of comic WIP's i have but that shit aint goin on ao3

3.) Favourite character to write this year?

ford for sure . you give me a character who's autistic in a way that isn't cute and it just means the world to me . i get to give him evil autism . the autism where we acknowledge growing up autistic is traumatizing and makes you not a nice person all the time . fuck i love him . i get to dump so much of my own shit on him its so funnnnnnn yay lalalala

there was a whole paragraph i wrote that was just describing the perfect eye angle to maintain when walking through a farmers market to avoid social scenario's, which i had to remove because it was just me rambling about my own social survival strategies . farmers markets are dangerous places

i also love writing him in the context of bill . what a fucking mess they are i hope they never get better . but together <3

4.) The character that gave you the most trouble this year?

honestly stanley pines . i feel like i soften him too much, and lean in to his more positive traits than his more negative ones . it's hard because i feel like folks don't talk about the fact he was homeless for like 10 years & also had a breaking bad style adventure in columbia

the other problem is that he IS a big softy so idk . but he should be bitchier god damn it . he should be talking about his cataracts

6.) Did you receive any gifts this year?

I DID YOU INSANE PEOPLE thank you all it make a me smile:

@stemmmm @ancharan @kronehaze @sillyhyperfixator @ezrathean0n

7.) Did you do any collaborative works this year?

i feel like all my writing is collaborative!! i spend hours talking fic stuff with my wife & brother and my stuff is all the better for it . would love to do more of that w/ other folks i love it talking and thinking and playing is so fun

8.) What do you listen to while writing?

i don't like listening to music when i write lol ...... i sit in the cold silence and type in a frantic spiral .

i listen to a lotta different things while i think of things to write tho . atm all i want in the world is to make a theseus animation to this song it's very hammercore :

9.) Favorite line/passage you wrote this year?

oogh that's hard to choose . i'm just gonna share a bunch that make me laugh

from theseus' guide step six:

Dipper, clearly, doesn’t get it, and Ford acknowledges he is too young to understand a professional working relationship.

also from step six:

“Oh, sure, I can move on,” Stan grins, “To the other items on my list. A, the shack’s toilets all suck, and the seats keep raisin’ automatically. B, your handwriting sucks. C–”

from theseus' guide step three:

“You think you’re coming back anytime soon?” “No, 8-Ball, I don’t think I’m ‘ coming back ’ anytime soon.” Ford snides, though 8-Ball either doesn’t register that, or doesn’t care; hard to tell with the guy, “I’m sure you’re aware, but your boss wants to kill my family. And destroy my universe. ” 8-Ball sniffs. “Cool. Mind if I eat your leftovers then? Teeth keeps eyeing them.” Ford frowns, “You couldn’t have just brought them with you?” “Nah, man, I want to eat them.”

lots of lines from step eight but we ain't there yet

uuuuhhghhg who to send this chain mail along to uuuhgghgh

@beccadrawsstuff if u wannaaaa . anyone else feel free to pick this up as well i'm bad at this lol

[tinfoil-jones]

Gravity Falls: For Your Own Good, Ch. 6

Summary: A few years after moving to Gravity Falls and having his lab built, Stanford Pines happens upon his estranged twin brother, Stanley. He mentally prepared himself to be suffocated by his brothers neediness all over again - what he wasn't prepared for was Stanley walking right past him like he didn't even notice him.

Rating: M for language, violence, and adult implications

Preface: Dialogue only, but some actions will be annotated for clarity. Cross-Posted on AO3 Here

First - Prev - Next

CH.6

“Good evening, Stanley.”

“...”

“I can see in lieu of speaking, you have instead chosen to communicate with an obscene hand gesture- two obscene hand gestures. I'll excuse your immaturity because I understand you might be feeling… upset.”

“Upset? Me? What could I possibly be upset about?”

“I understand your current state of… lodging is making you apprehensive. On account of being involuntarily committed.”

“You not picking up sarcasm doesn’t surprise me. And this isn’t an involuntary commitment; this is an unlawful abduction and confinement. I have enough experience with both to know the difference.”

“You what?”

“Ask me whatever stupid questions you’re about to ask, but I refuse to stand up. This is literally the first bed I’ve had since prison; and in that bed I had to worry about bed bugs, dirty needles, poisonous snakes… and Jorge.”

“What was that last thing that you just whispered to yourself?”

“Don’t worry about it. Now, what do you want, Doc? You here to scan me again? Get me to take more drugs? Ask me weirdly personal questions like your hot friend?”

“I want to talk. I may have come on a little strong when we crossed paths in town, in order for you to truly understand where I’m coming from, I’m going to have to give you some context in place of your lost memory.”

“Please tell me you’re not about to give me the tragic backstory of you and your missing twin.”

“Listen, Stanley, you don’t remember this; but we had a falling out ten years ago.”

“Aaand you’re doing it. Yeah, that’s pretty much what I was expecting. Fine, I’ll play along.”

“We were in our senior year of high school. You ruined a project of mine, and it cost me my dream college. We had a fight, and you got- you left home after that.”

“Man, dunno why I’d do something like that.”

“You were scared of me leaving you.”

“Did a shitty thing, and ended up alone anyways. That's something I'd expect from me.”

“And then you tried to justify it and say there was a silver lining-.”

“I’m sorry.”

“...What?”

“I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve that.”

“... Where’s your excuse?”

“Hm?”

“Your excuses- your reasons? You cannot just apologize- so casually.”

“Sure I can. I just did. You don't accept it, that’s your right."

“...You don’t mean that.”

“Naw, I’m pretty sure no one deserves to be betrayed. I’m sorry you were.”

“Saying sorry doesn’t make it okay.”

“Didn’t say it did. Nothing can- it’s already happened, and there’s no changing it. You don’t wanna forgive and forget? I won’t make you.”

“And you’re going to simply… move on?”

“Look, PhD, I can’t tell you why your real twin did what he did, or what was going through his head when he did it. But he did the wrong thing to the wrong person, and paid for it. It’s too bad you had to pay for it too.”

“You are-.”

“Can see why you’d get us mixed up though. All I do is ruin things, too. Maybe if that thing with your project hadn’t happened, you wouldn’t be a wackjob who carries a tranq gun with him everywhere and abducts people off of the street.”

“I’m not mixing anything up. You are exactly who I keep trying to tell you that you are. You’re just not you right now.”

“I’m never anybody but me. You feel better now? Get all of that out of your system?”

“Now that I have told you what separated us-.”

“I’m gonna take that as a no.”

“Can you fill me in on the years that followed?”

“Doc, a lot of what I remember is like smoke - it’s hazy, and it’s hard to hold onto, can you be specific?”

“How about we start with something tangible?”

“Like what?”

“I am going to slip a paper and a pen through the slot in the door. Write down a list of the people who’ve tried to kill you.”

“You sure?”

“Yes. You told my associate a number of alarming things during his interview with you, and he reported that a not insignificant number of those things revolved around people trying to kill you.”

“A lot of them still want me dead, you know. If they figured out where I was, they might raid this place. It’s not too late to just… let me go, and we can pretend none of this happened. I’m not gonna hold a grudge against you, it's clear to me you've got issues because your real twin is either dead or hiding in Cuba.”

“They can try. They’ll fail.”

"Gutsy. We coulda been friends if you weren't insane."

"...We were."

"If you say so."

To be continued...

[n0ahsebastians]

hello loves!! this is my first post on here EVER!!! that's kinda crazy HAHA this came from a special place in my heart, the first noah fic i've ever written (it's also posted on my ao3 account teehee) but i finally decided to post them on here. i hope you all enjoy and let me know what you think! i'll post more if y'all like this one :D

18+ content; PLEASE DO NO READ IF YOU ARE UNDER 18!!

warnings: smut (not too much but enough), lots of fluff and lots of love.

sugar on the blood cells, carbon on the brain (title from 'aqua regia' by sleep token)

They arrived late back home. The plane ride felt excruciatingly long and he was so glad to be on solid ground again. The tour was long, long but one of the best they’d done in a long time. One of their favorites, he thinks, as he’s grabbing his luggage from the carousel. The airport’s quiet; an almost ominous humming sounds from the escalators moving up and down and the lights above them. The few people that are flying late are sleeping in the chairs near gates or waiting for their rides to arrive out front. The guys and crew assist in hauling the equipment out to the bus, pulling suitcases of clothes and instruments and whatever else they can grab in the meantime. It’s freezing outside, colder than the weather they just left hours ago. Goddamn East Coast winters.

He can’t wait to get home, to the comfort of his own space again. To his kitchen, his couch, his bed, her. 

He keeps looking at the last text she sent him before he boarded the plane, see you so soon, be safe. i love you ❤️ 

She was asleep hours ago; time differences are a bitch but he replied to her anyways  just landed. on our way home. love you baby 😚

He can’t stop smiling at the message, knowing he would see her again in mere minutes. The thought of holding her again, kissing her, lying next to her for the first time in 3 months, was enough to make this whole tour worth it. 

Years ago when they first met, it was nothing more than a few words here and there between them. He dropped out of high school, she continued her studies. He started a band, she became an event manager. They stayed in touch here and there over the years but nothing was ever serious. They didn’t want to complicate things within their lives, disrupt the process or the flow.

But then the calls became more frequent. The texts became flirty, they were telling each other about their days and making sure to check in on one another. She called him when she was having rough days and he did the same. He was always willing to make the time to talk to her, to calm her down, get her breathing under control again. He was her lifeline you could say, in more ways than one. 

Then there was that time they Facetimed and she told him she missed him. How she missed seeing him everyday. How she missed coming home to him and even the little things like holding his hand and watching movies together. They’d only officially been together three months, but there was something there. Something so much more than just phone calls and long distance texts. It was something real.

It started innocently. Until it wasn’t so much.

“How much do you miss me?”

She could see a gleam in his eye, one she hadn’t seen before but she liked it. A lot.

“So much.” Her voice was soft, her t-shirt was riding up over her thigh; he could see the soft skin of her hip in the glow of the lamp from their bedroom; she was only wearing underwear and all he wanted was to put his mouth there. Fucking hell.

“I fucking miss you so much.” 

His words made her stomach flutter and she hummed softly. She watched as he shifted on the hotel bed, adjusting the laptop to have a better view of her. 

“Can we…do something?” He sounded so nervous, he didn’t know why he was nervous but he was. Maybe because this woman was absolutely sexy and he wanted her so bad. Wanted everything with her. He didn’t know it then but he’d always wanted her.

“Yeah.” 

“I wanna see you,” he said lowly, running his hand through his hair, “all of you.”

She gulped, trying to process his words. They had never done this, any of this. They hadn’t even taken that step yet. It excited her that he wanted this with her. That closeness, that intimacy. Finally.

“Noah…I-“

“Do you trust me?”

She took a deep breath, smiling softly at him. She did. She always had.

“Yes.”

“I got you. Trust me, baby.”

She loved hearing him call her that. It slipped off his tongue so effortlessly. His tongue. She started thinking about the way it would feel on her body then, how he’d kiss her, mouth at her to bring her to the edge. It suddenly made her squeeze her thighs together. Noah noticed, smiling at her from the laptop screen.

“What’re you thinking about right now?” He situated the laptop screen so she could see the length of his body now, his sweats clinging to his long legs and his bare chest in view, tattoos on full display. 

“You. I’m…thinking about you.”

“What about me?”

She was embarrassed. How was she supposed to tell him she was thinking about his tongue inside of her, how she wanted to feel his lips on her skin and his fingers tracing the skin of her hips, her thighs, his teeth nipping at her stomach and everywhere he could, when they hadn’t even made it to that point yet?

“Tell me.” His voice was low, sexy. It made her entire body ignite.

“Your…tongue.” There it was. She felt her cheeks heat at her own words. She couldn’t believe this was happening right now. 

“Fuck. Tell me more.”

“Noah…”

“Baby, there’s no one else here. Just you and me,” he assured her. She took a deep breath and tried to relax herself, tried to think of something that wouldn’t make her want to bail out of this. There was no way she could now; she told him she wanted his tongue on her. She was in too deep now.

“Honey, look at me.” His voice was soft, caring. He was sweet, so sweet, and she adored that about him. He knew she was just as nervous as him, just as vulnerable. This was a big step for them. For her even. She hadn’t been intimate with anyone in years. There had been no one after high school. Until Noah.

When she was finally able to look at him again, he was smiling sweetly. God she wished he was here with her. Wished she could touch him and hold him and kiss him. Lay next to him, inhaling his body wash and hints of cologne that still lingered on his skin.

“Just trust me, okay?” he says finally. She closes her eyes and nods again, keeping eye contact with him as she begins to remove her shirt. He stops her though.

“No, leave that on. Take off your underwear.”

Fuck. Fuck.

She bit her lip, lying back against the headboard. She hooked her fingers into the thin material, slowly sliding it down her legs. His eyes nearly rolled back in his head as she tossed them onto the floor. She folded her legs over one another, pulling her t-shirt down a bit so her lower half was hidden from the camera. 

“Fuck, I wish I could touch you right now. Kiss you.”

She decided to finally play along. She was feeling braver now that she wasn’t wearing any underwear.

“Where would you touch me?” She ran her fingertips over the sheets, looking up at the camera just as she heard him softly whimper. 

“Between your legs. Fuck, you’d be so warm and wet. You’re wet now aren’t you?”

She was. She could feel the heat between her legs and she needed something. Needed a release. 

“Can you touch yourself for me?”

“Mhm.”

She hesitated before slowly parting her legs, making sure he could see her. She heard him gasp when she touched her fingers to herself, laid her head back against the pillows. She started slowly, listening to his breathing become more and more ragged. This was so out of her element, but she was loving the reaction she was getting out of him.

“Fuck, you look so good. I wish I was there with you.”

“Mmm…Noah…”

“What do you need, baby?”

“Talk to me more.” She started moving her fingers faster, not too fast though. She didn’t want to come yet. 

“Does it feel good, you touching yourself?”

She nodded. 

“Tell me how it feels.”

“Mm…s’good…” She moaned, making the fabric of his sweats tighten. Fucking hell.

“What was that you were saying about my tongue? You want me to taste you, don’t you?” 

She whimpered, her legs tensing at his words. Yeah, that’s all she was thinking about. His tongue inside of her. It was making her brain short circuit. 

“Yeah, that’s what I thought. I wanna taste you so bad, you have no idea.” He practically growled as he continued watching her fingers move in and out of herself. It was the fucking dirtiest, but hottest thing he’d seen, probably ever. And it was driving him crazy.

“Fuck, look at you right now. You look incredible.”

That made her sigh softly, a smile forming across her lips and her brow creasing as she continued to touch herself. She needed him to keep talking though, the silence was not helping her.

“Keep going.”

He groaned, palming himself through his sweats. She sounded heavenly, like nothing he’d

ever heard before. Everything about her was unreal. 

“Spread your legs more. So I can see you come.”

She did, forgetting for a moment that he wasn’t in the room with her and was thousands of miles away in a hotel, watching her through a laptop screen. She tried to bite her lip to keep quiet but he didn’t want that. He needed her to make more noises. 

“I wanna hear you. Don’t be shy anymore.”

“Fuck, it…feels so good.” Her moans were the sexiest thing he’d ever heard. He could

feel his sweats tightening some more and he wanted to touch himself so fucking badly. So he did. 

“Yeah? You wanna come?”

“Fuck, please,” she whined, her fingers moving faster.

“You’re so sexy like this, Jesus fuck.” He wished he could see the way she looked when she was coming. The moans and whimpers leaving her mouth as she fucked her fingers in and out of herself was the hottest thing he’d ever seen or heard. 

“Noah…I’m…”

“I know, baby. Come for me.” 

That was it. She gasped, her release hitting her harder than she wanted it to. She came on her fingers, her legs shaking and her toes curling. Watching her fall apart from his words was enough for him to finish himself and he wasn’t far behind her. 

She pulled her t-shirt back down over her legs, lying sideways on the bed again so she could see him. Her cheeks were flushed, so were his. She smiled lazily at him and he did the same. 

“Think I need to shower now,” he said, making her giggle. She didn’t even know he was touching himself until she saw him wipe his hand on a towel hanging from the chair next to the dresser. It made her legs squeeze together all over again.

“I wish you were here,” she said, her fingers reaching up to the screen. He smiled at her again.

“I know, me too.” He mirrored her actions, placing his fingers against hers.

“Umm…that was…”

“Hot.”

She giggled again and he wanted to kiss her so badly. He wished he was home with her

now. 

“Yeah. Maybe we could…try it for real. You know…when you…come home.”

He smiled again, his lips curving up in the widest grin, making his eyes crinkle in  

the corners. 

“I am absolutely not taking my hands off of you when I get home.”

And she knew he meant it.

He’s home now and all he can think about is lying down. He’s exhausted and feels like a 200-pound weight has just attached itself to his shoulders. He tells Matt and Jolly they can unload the truck in the morning after they all sleep. It’s almost 2am and he just needs to lie down. That’s all he’s thinking about. And her. 

The three of them enter the house after the rest of the group heads out, saying they’ll see each other in the morning for breakfast and some much needed relaxation outside of a busy tour schedule. 

He unlocks the door, tossing his bag in the corner by the couch, not even bothering to bring it the fifteen extra steps into his bedroom. He doesn’t care, he’ll take care of it later. 

Jolly and Matt go their separate ways as well, hugs and goodnights are traded before Noah makes his way to his room finally. He quietly opens the door so as to not wake her. She’s fast asleep when he squeezes into the room, shutting the door softly and locking it. He doesn’t really need to lock it but it’s been three fucking months since he’s been home and he wants to just spend as much time with her as possible in the confines of their bedroom. 

She stirs gently as he makes his way around the bedroom, opening drawers to grab fresh boxers and a clean t-shirt. A routine he hasn’t been used to in months. She’s wearing one of his shirts, he sees now, the way it hugs the curves of her body so fucking well, it makes his chest tighten and his stomach flip.

It’s been two years now. Two years since they decided to try this thing out. Besides his friends and the band and all the other things he worked endless hours to make his own, she was the best thing that had ever happened to him. She was everything to him, she was his lifeline. 

He changes into his clean clothes, tossing his traveling wear into the hamper by the bathroom. He rubs his hands over his face, trying to function for a few more minutes to brush his teeth. Turning the water on wakes her up and he swears under his breath as he attempts to crack the door to keep the light out of her eyes. It’s too late though, she’s up now. 

He rinses his mouth out, turning off the water just as the door opens to reveal his very sleepy but incredibly beautiful girlfriend. She smiles lazily at him, reaching up to embrace him in a hug. He laughs gently as he reaches down to wrap his arms under her thighs and hitch them around his waist. The feel of her skin against his after all this time, the warmth of her breath, the goosebumps that raise on her legs as he runs his thumbs over the skin. This. This is all worth it.

“Hi baby,” he kisses her forehead, her cheek, holding her tightly against him. 

“Hi bub,” she says into the skin of his neck. He hears her sniffle and she pulls her face away to rest their foreheads together. He kisses her for the first time in three months, forceful but full of love and everything they missed while they were separated from one another. 

“I missed you so fucking much,” he says against her lips. She presses her hands into his face, holding his jaw and rubbing her thumbs over the smile lines in his cheeks. He feels tears running down her cheeks and he wipes them away with his thumb.

“I missed you so bad.”

“You smell so good,” he says, pulling away from their kiss to press his nose into her neck. She giggles, wrapping her fingers in his hair which he’s cut a bit more since the last time they saw each other.

“You cut your hair.”

“Not much. Just a little bit off the back.” He runs his hand through it, keeping one underneath her legs which are still wrapped around him.

“It looks good,” she smiles, placing another kiss to his lips. She feels him smile against it, turning off the bathroom light and walking them to their bed. He lays her down against the sheets, lifting her shirt to press kisses to her stomach. She giggles again, her fingers in his hair as he continues down her body.

“Noah, it’s 2am,” she says, with no indication that she wants him to stop. He hums, taking one of her hands from his hair and intertwining their fingers. The gesture makes her stomach flutter, she loves when he does that.

“You’re not convincing me of anything.” He kisses her hip, tugging at the material of her underwear to expose more skin. She looks down to watch him, his tongue running the length of her hip bone and she bites her lip.

“You need sleep, bub.” A sigh leaves her lips as he tugs down her underwear. His fingertips against the skin of her thighs raises more goosebumps and she lifts her legs to kick them off. He laughs gently. 

“I know,” another kiss to her hip, “fucking exhausted”, open mouthed kiss to her pelvic bone, “but I just want to be with you for a little bit.” He looks up at her through his eyelashes and she really can’t resist this man no matter how hard she tries. He has her in too deep. He’s drawing circles in the skin of her thigh, she traces her finger over the tattoo on his throat, her favorite, and feels his pulse quicken at her touch. He kisses her wrist, her thumb running over his bottom lip. Touches that they’re trying to memorize again.

“Yeah, okay.”

He raises an eyebrow at her. “‘Yeah okay what?’”

“Yeah, okay. Put your mouth on me then.”

He smiles at her. “There she is.” He presses a kiss to the inside of her thigh before bringing her legs to rest over his shoulders. Her fingers find their home in his hair again, tugging gently as he presses his tongue to the skin of her thigh. 

“Fuck, I missed you,” he whispers, moving closer to where she’s needed him the last three months. His breath is warm, icy from his toothpaste. The combination against her center sets her whole body on fire. 

“I missed–unhh!” 

“Sshh, ssh ssh you’re so loud,” he laughs gently against her, the vibration making her gasp softer this time. His hand flies up to cover her mouth. 

“Sorry, shit.” 

He laughs against her thigh. “Be quiet for me.”

She closes her eyes, letting his lips make their way back to her center. He blows against her before pressing his tongue into her, a groan leaving his lips as she presses her heels into his shoulder blades. It feels so good, not just the sex but this. Him. Being with him again. Her hands in his hair, his hands on her legs, everywhere on her skin. He was her home. They both needed this.

“You taste so fucking good,” he growls against her, bringing her back from her thoughts. She moans again, her hips lifting to meet his mouth, his tongue moving against her in the most sensual way, she feels like she might explode from this entire moment. 

“Love…you…” she manages to say between heedy breaths and tugs of his hair.

“Fucking love you.”

“Noah…baby, I–gonna…”

“I know, baby, doing so good for me. Come for me,” he breathed against her. She absolutely hated when he said things like that, it made her come too fast. She wanted to sit on his face, fuck his mouth forever. Besides making love, this was their favorite. 

“Stop…saying that…”

“What, that you’re being so good for me?” He tongued at her again, her legs shaking against his head. She gasped as she came against his mouth, her heels pressing farther into his shoulder blades if that was at all possible. She tugged at his hair again as he coaxed her down from her first orgasm in almost three months (there were several Facetime calls but they weren’t always alone to have phone sex and the release was everything she needed).

He hummed against her before pressing several kisses to the inside of her thighs. She nearly smacked him for getting her off so quickly.

“Fuck off,” she laughed, sitting up to pull him from between her legs. “Get up here and kiss me.”

He did. He smiled against her lips, his tongue pressing into her mouth. She could taste herself on him and she didn’t exactly hate it. He breathed into her mouth, laying back against the headboard and bringing her with him. She laughed gently, reaching down to lift her shirt over her head. Noah’s eyes widened, staring at her naked body in front of him again for the first time in three fucking months. The longest three months of his life. 

“Are you gonna take your clothes off, fool?”

Fuck he loved this woman so much. He leaned forward to bite down gently on her bottom lip, a gentle moan leaving her.

“I can’t when you’re sitting on me, you ass.”

“You started this,” she jabbed at his chest then reached down to drag her fingers along the waistband of his boxers. She started tracing his tattoos again, the letters and the scriptures he had, all his anime characters across his sternum and thighs. She was distracted, he was distracting. His body and his hands and his lips and everything about him. He lifted her chin to look at him. 

“Hi,” she said, smiling. He chuckled, pressing a kiss to her nose. 

“Hi. You went away again.” 

“Yeah, sorry. Just…missed this.” She traced the ink on his chest again, placing a kiss to

the skin there. 

“Me too.” 

She pressed a kiss to his chin, then up to his lips. His hands came to rest on her bare waist, slowly dragging her center across his clothed one. She moaned into his mouth, digging her fingers into his chest. 

“And I missed your mouth but I wanna make love to you before we go to sleep.” 

She hummed, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him forward so he was on top of her again. He kissed her neck, down her arms, across her breasts, her nipples. He swiped his tongue across the nub, earning a low moan from her again. He trailed his lips down to her stomach, open mouthed kisses pressed against her thighs and hips. 

When he reached her ankles, he lifted her leg so he could press one last kiss to her tattoo there, earning another giggle from the beautiful woman beneath him. 

“I love you.”

She smiled up at him as he stood from the bed to remove his boxers. She could feel her body heating up again as he came to rest over her, lifting one of her arms above her head and intertwining their fingers. He spread her legs gently, pressing his fingers against her to open her up again. 

“I love you,” she moaned at the sensation of his fingers and the head of his cock beginning to brush against her. She closed her eyes, her lips falling open as he pressed their foreheads together and rolled his hips forward gently to meet hers. It felt like the whole room went still, their fingers squeezing one anothers above her head and his other hand on her thigh, dragging it up to wrap around his waist. 

“Fuck, I missed this, you feel…so fucking good.” Noah began to move slowly, careful to not hurt her or go too fast. He wanted this to last as long as possible.

“Oh my…Noah…”

“Fuck, baby…can you come for me again?”

“Mhm.” 

She was close again, he could feel it in the way her thighs were starting to shake again and the way she was whimpering into his mouth. Her fingers gripped his shoulder, digging into his skin as he rocked against her gently.

“Fuck, I can’t believe I went this long without you,” he breathes out, a low chuckle coming from her lips. 

“I missed you…so much.”

“Fuck…I missed you.”

“Noah..unhh…”

That sound. That fucking sound. He was absolutely gone for this woman. She was everything to him.

“Come for me, baby. I…I got you.”

Her eyes squeezed shut, she tensed around him and gripped the skin of his shoulder again. The feel of her coming around him was enough for him to lose his fucking mind; he wasn’t far behind her, groaning into the skin of her neck and gripping her hip with the hand that wasn’t holding onto hers still. His hips stilled, rocking against her one last time before releasing a deep breath against her neck. Her fingers petted through his hair, against the nape of his neck, across his back, his shoulders. He could feel her heartbeat starting to slow again, a thin sheen of sweat was settling over their bodies and he didn’t want to move, wanted to stay like this with her forever. 

“I’m glad you’re home,” she finally said as he was lying on top of her. He chuckled, placing a kiss to her cheek. He tried to get up but she pulled him back down on top of her. He smiled at her.

“I’m glad I’m home too.”

“Did you guys have fun though?” Her lips were swollen and her cheeks were flushed, her collarbones glistening and a red mark was forming in the corner of her mouth from where he’d bit down on her lip. Goddamn she was so beautiful. 

“Yeah we did. Always do.”

“I’m proud of you bub,” she whispered, running her fingers over his cheek, pushing his hair back off his forehead. He smiled lazily down at her, pressing his lips to hers gently. She hummed, parting her lips to let his tongue press against hers again.

“I love you so much,” he says, rubbing their noses together. Another hum from her.

“I love you.”

[otomiyaa]

nice.png

(literally how I named the image, couldn't think of something else)

Hi guys :') To my followers and tumblr friends, I'm really sorry if my sudden disappearance scared or upset you. It wasn't quite... planned. And today was a busy day and I needed some time to consider what I wanted to do.

Short version of the story:

My tumblr account got terminated for copyright infringement. A certain Mr. Green got me in unlucky trouble (ref 1, 2).

I won't get it back, or try to get it back. It's gone.

Needed a moment to consider 2 options: ask Mia to extend my dramatic farewell letter and stay gone, or make a new blog.

Not planning to post new writing here. I won't be using words like 'never' or 'forever' because I'm a known clown with things like this, but the intention is to no longer post fics. I will finish Tickletober on AO3 and then take a break from writing. So yes, I cancel the swiftscribbles event too, sorry!

When I opened my laptop, I could see my old blog in its final hour lmao (I found out about the loss on my phone). So that's what the snap is from on a fitting grave. It was fun while it lasted!

Long version of the story:

Losing my blog(s): My Tumblr account with main blog + sideblogs got terminated overnight, it was quite the surprise! I've either been reported or tracked by bots. The posts are a bunch of numbered URLs I can't open, but the message is clear: for including anime content, genshin impact or media from other sources (whether it's videos, screenshots, official art, gifs or even fanwork) you technically can get a strike. Upon googling the claimer I quickly found this first, and knew it was a lost cause. Although it feels shitty and unlucky, I am in no place to appeal. It's like when I used to make AMVs in the past, you never knew whether a song or even anime footage was going to give your YT account a copyright strike or even a ban, it was a gamble. I have lost YT accounts before, and now I lost the Tumblr one. With 7+ years of tickle trash content and a bunch of sideblogs. But oh well, moving on!

Starting a new blog: It was a serious consideration whether this was my ultimate chance to do what I've always said I wanted to do eventually - quit my blog. My first thought was to ask Mia to share my explanation and literal goodbye with you guys, and stick to my chaos of a Twitter account to indulge in fandom stuff. But then I thought of how happy Tumblr made me, even without the fic writing, but just.. reblogging things, getting random asks, shouting about life and of course, about tickles. I decided to make a new blog after all, but also decided the following:

The 7K+ milestone swiftscribbles event is cancelled, for which I apologize! The follower milestone, together with the motivation to write the fics, and even the asks with the requests I got, all died with my former blog.

I will see how long I can survive without posting a new fic or drabble. A loose headcanon or two might fly around sometime. And if necessary, a link to a new fic on AO3.

Tickletober? Hell yes I'll finish it, I would cringe in bed for 49 days at least if I would stop. I just won't post the fics here, but on AO3.

Reposting/reblogging my old works? Undecided at the moment but I'm tired and lazy. I don't feel too upset since most of my fics are still on AO3 at least and not completely gone.

Anyways, I'll see what happens and how long I can enjoy this nerfed version of blogging.

Surprisingly I'm not upset about losing my other blog, there were a lot of memories but it was also very cringe. I'm gonna be just as cringe here, but at least I feel cleansed.

For those who choose to follow me again, thank you, but please know that there won't be much original content coming from me, for now!:)

[atimeofyourlife]

So tired, but I can't sleep

day 29 | rated g | wc: 492 | prompts: FATIGUE | Labyrinth | Burnout | "Who said you could rest?" | ao3 Buck is exhausted after a long shift where he was unable to sleep, even when not on a call. Tommy comes to pick him up and takes care of him.

Buck couldn't remember the last time he'd felt this tired, been this fatigued. Well, at least when he wasn't recovering from illness or injury. The fatigue when he was recovering from the lightning strike was something else altogether.

It was at the end of a 24-turned-30 hour shift, on account of a call to a five alarm fire coming in shortly before shift change. It had also been one of those shifts where sleep evaded him. He'd tried the bunk room, but he'd ended up just tossing and turning, eventually giving up and heading up to the loft, so the others could at least make the most of the downtime and actually get some sleep without his restlessness disturbing them. Which didn't help when they were called to the fire.

By the time the 118 were released from the fire, Buck was barely able to hold himself upright, even needing help into the engine. But he had reached the point where he was almost too tired to sleep. He tried leaning back with his eyes shut on the way back to the firehouse, hoping that even a little rest would help. He knew he wouldn't be able to drive himself home like this, knowing the statistics of how bad it could be to sleep while sleep deprived. That it could be as bad as, or even worse than drunk driving.

When they got back to the station, he opened the door to stumble out of the engine, when a pair of strong and sturdy hands were there to help him down.

"Tommy?" He mumbled, blinking up at his boyfriend. "Why're you here?"

"Eddie and Howie texted. Said you might need someone to drive you home." Tommy explained.

"Hey, Eddie practically needed to lift you into the engine and you needed me to fasten your seatbelt." Chimney replied at Buck's glance.

"Come on, let's get you out of your turnouts and changed so I can get you home and in bed." Tommy started to help him out of his turnout coat.

"You always like to get me out of my clothes." Buck aimed to give Tommy a sultry look, but it failed with how much his eyelids were drooping.

"Behave, Buckaroo." Hen warned on the way to the locker room and showers.

Buck pouted but allowed Tommy to guide him across the floor. He wasn't much help in getting changed, Tommy taking charge to strip him out of his dirty uniform and change him into sweatpants and a hoodie.

"Come on, Baby." Tommy helped Buck back to his feet and wrapped an arm around him on the way out to his truck, taking most of Buck's weight so he only had to move his feet.

"Tommy?" Buck whispered as he was buckled into the passenger seat.

"What is it, Evan?"

"Thanks for coming to get me."

"Of course. I'll always come when you need me."

"Love you." Buck mumbled as he drifted off.

[halfmoth-halfman]

Leaving this blog.

With my mini-series finishing up soon, I've decided to leave this blog as well as my AO3 account once it’s finished. This is not a decision I've made lightly, but circumstances have left this a place where I no longer feel safe.

As of now, I won't be deactivating this blog and will be leaving my fics up for anyone who'd still like to read them. I can't say this decision won't change later, but right now I feel that I've put too much work into this blog to simple delete it.

Below the cut is an explanation of why I'm making this decision, and what has been happening on this blog since the end of last year. It's not required to read or anything to understand the gist of this post; it's simply for my own peace of mind knowing that I spoke up about it. There will be topics that are possibly triggering such as harassment, threats, and racism so please mind the warnings and tags.

The mini-series is queued to finish next week, but there will be no more fic polls or wip wednesdays. I'll still be on here to make sure the queue does its job, and maybe post some stuff from my old drafts as a last bit of fun.

I'll have dms tentatively open for the next two-ish weeks for those who'd like to follow my new account, however I will not be answering anything from empty blogs. After that, asks and dms will be turned off, and I won't be coming back to this blog very often, if at all.

I cannot say thank you enough to the wonderful readers I've had and the amazing people I've met. I don't think I would've ever continued writing without your support and friendship. There's nothing I can do to show my appreciation for all of you.

Maybe we'll see each other again. If not, I hope your inspiration is always flowing, and 2024 treats you kindly.

Mothie 💜

Again, TW: rape/death threats, violent racism, repeated harassment, and mental health.

Back in November, I started getting rude, mean-spirited anons. It wasn't anything I was too bothered with because it didn't happen often and, honestly, my inbox gets flooded for a week or so anytime I post about certain topics. I blocked, deleted, reported and moved on thinking whoever it was would get bored and leave.

However, what started as a few rude anons calling me a bitch or stupid turned into a lot of anons being vile and racist which only worsened over the next few months.

I spoke about it in this post (link) near the end of November. In that post, I mentioned that those were the nicer asks and that was not an exaggeration. I have gotten my fair share of shitty anons as seen here (link) when I had to take a break from my blog because of said anons, but I have never gotten the amount of vitriol that I saw in these asks.

When I turned anon off, I started getting even worse messages from empty blogs that would either be blocked or deactivate within a week. When I turned my askbox off, I started getting hateful DMs. When I turned DMs off, it jumped from Tumblr to my other social medias which I had to private, completely avoid, or outright delete.

I got messages attacking my writing, calling me slurs, threatening to find me and rape or kill me, sending me explicit porn and rape videos while insulting my sexuality, and going into gross detail about how much people I interacted with hated me or how I would never be as good as them. I tried to power through it, pretending everything was fine while I pulled away from this blog, from writing, from friends that I loved and talked to every day. Everything about this blog, the fandoms I enjoyed, the people I talked to, made me so anxious because of these constant messages.

I took several breaks while dealing with this in therapy, repeatedly trying to come back and get comfortable on this blog, but within a few days of coming back the messages would start up again, either here or on any of my social medias I tried to unprivate, and I couldn't deal with it.

Only in the last week or two has it started to slow down and stop on a few of my other socials, which is the only reason I even feel comfortable making this post. However, in regards to this blog and my feelings toward it, the damage is done.

I don't think I can ever truly convey how isolating this has been. So many of these messages were about how I've spoken about my struggles as a black woman in fandom, how much of a burden it puts on the people who interact with me, how inferior I am to them and that I am everything that's wrong with fandom.

I felt scared and anxious to talk to anyone about this, especially people mentioned in those messages, out of fear that this harassment would jump to them. There are friendships that I stepped away from that I will never get back because of that. There are friends that I've felt like I was betraying by never telling them about what was happening because I felt too ashamed about letting this get to me.

I constantly worried that making a post like this would feel like, "Oh, Mothie's whining and trauma-dumping into the void about fandom racism again", that those messages would be right and it would force people to feel like they had to support me. Or worse, that people would agree and it would only make things worse. I've wrestled with so much guilt trying to decide to make this post and figure out what to do to make me trust myself again.

Ultimately, I don't think I was wrong for talking about my issues in fandom, and I don't think anything I've said has warranted this kind of harassment. I don’t know the who’s or why’s behind of this, but I've come to terms with the fact that I'll never really know. Truthfully, I'm not sure it even matters at this point. In the end, I think moving on from this blog entirely would be the best thing for me right now.

But, man, does it fucking suck.

This was the blog where I felt comfortable enough to start writing again, to start posting my fics. It's the blog where I met so many friends, got the courage to join new communities, found new hobbies, new music, new things to enjoy in life. It feels silly to say about a blog, but this was a place where I felt like I was able to carve out a space for myself. I put so much work into making it my own, and now the only thing I feel about it is anxious.

Hate messages and threats and racism have always been a part of fandom, and the internet as a whole. I’ve known since I started participating in fandom spaces that it was going to and continue to happen. I've known that I had to have a tough skin, especially if I ever spoke up about problems I faced because no one was going to have my back if I didn't have my own. I thought I had learned how to deal with it, and how to make a safe space for myself. But this goes beyond that. I did not deserve this. No one deserves this.

In some ways, it feels like admitting defeat, like I'm weak or hypocritical for not being as strong as I pretended I was and leaving. In other ways, it feels freeing to start over, and I'm choosing to view look at this optimistically even if it bittersweet. I don't want to let this scare me away from writing or from speaking about things that are important to me. All I can do now is say I'm so incredibly sorry to those I've hurt by stepping away or keeping this secret, and make sure I'm able to at least leave this blog on as happy a note as I can have.

[nekoannie-chan]

Hoodie

Hoodie

Title: Hoodie.

Fandom: Marvel, Captain America.

Ship: Steve Rogers X Pregnant!Reader.

Word count: 377 words.

Rating: Teen.

Summary: You “borrowed” Steve's hoodie.

Major Tags: Mention of pregnancy.

A/N: This is my entry to @buck-star Fluffy Winter Event with the trope, activity and quote:

Tropes: Soon-to-be parents

Activity: Borrowing hoodies/clothes

Quote: “Is that my hoodie? Ah, ah, don’t tell me it looks pretty much alike, it’s mine, isn’t it?”

Links: Wattpad, Ao3, Spanish version.

@saiyanprincessswanie

My native language is Spanish so I wanna improve my writing skills in English if you notice any mistakes, please let me know and I will correct them.

I don’t give any permission for my fics to be posted on other platforms or languages (I translate my work myself) or the use of my graphics (my dividers are included in this), I did them exclusively for my fics, please respect my work and don't steal it. There are some people here who make dividers that anyone can use, mine is not this type, please look for the other people. The only exception is the ones I gifted 'cuz now belong to someone else. Please let me know if you find any of my works on a different platform and are not one of my accounts. Reblogs and comments are always welcome.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Marvel's characters (unfortunately), except for the original characters and the story.

Add yourself to my taglist here.

My other media where I publish:  Ao3, Wattpad, ffnet, TikTok, Instagram, Twitter. 

If you like it, please vote, comment, and give me feedback to improve my skills and reblog.

Tags: @sinceimetyou @unnuevosoltransformalarealidad @navybrat817 @angrythingstarlight @shield-agent78 @charmed-asylum @pandaxnienke @real-fbi @Smokeandnailz @white-wolf1940 @tenaciousperfectionunknown @xoxonotme @bluemusickid @leyannrae @Harrysthiccthighss @Marvelatthisone @caplanbuckybarnes @sapphire-rogers @lizzieolseniskinda @notyourtypicalrose @hallecarey1 @nana1000night @talia-rumlow @writingshae @alexxavicry @azulatodoryuga @daemonslittlebitch @chaoticcollectivenightmare @endlesstwanted @chemtrails-club  @marigoldreamer @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @Here4thefanfics @theestorm @patzammit @kmc1989 @somegirlfromasgard @rogersbarber

The sun was streaming weakly through the living room curtains. You were lying on the couch, with your legs propped up on a pillow to relieve some of the swelling in your feet because you were in the last weeks of pregnancy.

You decide to make yourself comfortable in the softest, warmest garment you have on hand: a huge hoodie that, of course, belongs to Steve. It's perfect; it smells like him, and even though it's a little baggy, it feels like it hugs you every time you move.

You're flipping through your book, enjoying the silence, when you hear the front door close softly. You look up and see Steve walk in.

“Hi, doll,” he says, walking toward you with a smile as he runs a hand through his hair.

“Hi,” you reply, and he leaves a kiss on your forehead before realizing something.

Suddenly, his gaze drops; he notices your hoodie and frowns.

“Is that my hoodie?” he asks with a raised eyebrow, crossing his arms. “Ah, ah, don’t tell me it looks pretty much alike, it’s mine, isn’t it?”

You settle better on the couch, pretending to be very interested in the book. You don't say anything; don't look at it, as if you hadn't heard a word.

“Doll? “he insists, leaning slightly towards you. I know you heard me.

You bite your lip to keep from laughing. You turn the page in the book, even though you're not even reading the words.

Steve sits on the edge of the couch, close to your legs. His hand gently rests on your belly and begins to caress it.

“You and I both know that hoodie is mine,” he says, turning to the baby. “But it's okay; I'll let Mom wear it... for now.”

Finally, you can't help it, and a giggle escapes you.

“I knew you'd admit it,” he says, leaving a kiss on your forehead.

“I haven't admitted anything,” you reply, trying to sound serious but with a smile on your lips.

“Aha, sure,” he replies but doesn't insist further. Instead, he stands up and leans over you to arrange your pillows and make sure you're as comfortable as possible.

“Do you need anything? Water? Something to eat?”

“I'm fine, Steve. But thank you.”

[justleaveacommentfest]

Hi! I've always been too shy to comment, but the last weeks I had been seeing a lot of posts encouraging people to comment on fics and about how people comment less now than they used to, so I decided to try to start commenting on ao3. A few days after having left one comment I started seeing your posts and they are really helping give me the extra boost I needed to try to make it a habit. In case it helps other shy people, try to remember you can leave comments as a guest so it's anonymous or keep your ao3 account not linked with any other accounts. I'm sure the more we comment the easier it will become. It also helps that I'm not as young as when I started reading fics haha, I'm a bit more confident now, so I'll do my best to join this comment fest! Thanks for the motivation, hope you have a great week :)

YOU ARE AN INSPIRATION TO ALL SHY FIC READERS WHO WANT TO COMMENT!! THANK YOU FOR YOUR CONTRIBUTIONS TO THE COMMUNITY!!! THE ONLY CRINGE MOVE IS NOT TO COMMENT!!!!

[a-killer-obsession]

🔞 Minors DNI 🔞

A search for a rumored Vegapunk weapon leads the Kid Pirates to an unexpected new crewmate, with a bloodlust that rivals their own and an incredible power.

CW: Please check AO3 for all current warnings, but general warning for smut, slow burn, serious gore, and really dark themes. AFAB reader, she/her pronouns.

Masterlist || AO3 || Chapter 1

Chapter 37 - Breaking Point, Side B

The same day, from a different perspective.

Word Count: ~3.5k

Taglist: @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @tremendoushorsepatrolgoth @iggy5055 @eyes-ofhell

A/N: This chapter relies heavily on remembering the events of the last two chapters, so maybe give them a quick re-read if you need to before reading this one. It's sort of a fill in the gaps kind of chapter. Sorry everyone who saw the accidental upload, that must have been really confusing whoops

[Last Night]

Vivre cards in hand, Kid, Heat and Wire's heavy boots hit the docks and they spread to form a small triangle. It was something Double had taught them, using three vivre to triangulate where they were pointing, making for a more accurate direction and less need to keep checking, ideal for a windy day like this where they couldn't just continuously watch it move. They each used their second hand to protect the small pieces of paper from the wind while they watched the pieces bounce and move, before closing their palms and pointing in the direction the paper moved.

“Fuck,” Wire looked at where they were headed, “I scouted the whole island when we landed, whole place is formed like a dinner plate on a tilt. Right now we're at the bottom edge, but at the top edge is just a sheer fucking drop down a cliff. That's where she is, I have no doubt”

Heat looked at the paper in his hand, a small flicker of embers starting to eat away at the page. “Boss, her card is burning,” he reported in a panicked tone.

“She's gonna jump,” Wire realised.

“GO!” Kid shouted, and Wire was moving. Having the longest legs on the crew meant that he was the fastest, rivalled only by Killer's speed. Kid and Heat were tall and fast, but they had nothing on Wire's long legs.

The two of them were left in the dust as Wire moved, cutting through the sleepy town to where he had seen the trail that led to the cliffside. He had to bend as he passed the edge of the forest, it was near pitch black and the path was only cleared to account for the height of a normal person, not his eight foot ass. He didn't have enough light or time to concentrate on avoiding branches, so he ran with his chest low in much the same way Killer did during fights.

His strained breath hitched as the cliff came into view, your lilac hair billowing in the wind as you stood at the very edge, one small step from jumping. He was reaching for you immediately, yanking you away from the edge as soon as his hands found purchase in your baggy shirt and falling to his knees to beg you to reconsider.

“You've got another thing coming if you think I'm gonna support you or that baby on the ship!” Kid called, as Heat carried you and your new baby away from the cliffs. “Stay on this fucking island for all I care! You're nothing but a worthless whore, nothing but a life ruiner! We were all perfectly happy before you came on board and fucked everything up!”

Heat stopped dead in his tracks and turned back to Kid, and Wire's brows almost hit his hairline as he saw the raw determination and rebellion on his usually passive friend's face. “She doesn't need you, or Killer, she has me,” he spat, “and I'll burn the whole fucking ship down before I let you touch her or her baby. You wanna get rid of her? You can say goodbye to me too then”

The two of them watched Heat disappear into the forest with you and the baby, and there was a long silence, buffered only by the howling winds, the crashing waves behind them, and Kid's heavy breaths as he tried to calm himself.

“You shouldn't have said that,” Wire finally spoke, breaking the tense silence. Kid turned to him with an expression that read as fury, but quickly fell to regret and guilt.

“No, I shouldn't have,” he admitted, “really fucked that one up.”

Wire's brows raised as a small sniff came from the redhead, and when he looked at Kid he saw the glimmering wet trail of the tears running down his face, catching the early sunlight as he looked out to the ocean. The two of them had known each other a long time, but Wire had never had to comfort him before, that wasn't his place, that was Killer's job. The taller man didn't know what to do, so he just put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed it reassuringly.

“It's all falling apart,” Kid sniffed, “I'm such a shitty fucking captain, I should have made her get rid of the fucking baby before they got attached. Or, I don't know, fuckin’ chained her to the bed to keep her out of the battle. Now Killer's a fucking mess, Heat and Yin are leaving, and there's a fucking box of baby ashes on my fucking desk. What the fuck am I supposed to do, Wire?”

“Heat and Yin will come around,” Wire sighed, “you just gotta give them some space. And then you've gotta apologise, show her you care, find a way to show them both that you support her choice. I know it's not Killer's baby but we all know what being an orphan is like, that baby won't survive without her, we can't just leave it to die, or rely on the fucking Marines to do right by it. I don't think this island even has an orphanage, half the town is starving as it is. Just focus on Kil for now, we gotta get him stable. Even if it means using force, he's too much of a danger to himself right now”

“Okay,” Kid relented, shakey on his feet, exhausted from being up all night and the desperate run across the island.

“Let's just go get some sleep for now,” Wire insisted, “we'll figure it out tomorrow”

Kid just replied with a sleepy nod and let Wire lead him back to the forest trail.

Kid made an annoyed groan as he rolled over, heavy with sleep and craving for more, but at the mercy of the loud knocking at his door.

“Cap’ wake up, it's Killer,” a panicked voice came from the other side. Like a lightning bolt Kid shot up, pants hastily slapped on, metal arm pulled to his stump, door opening in a flurry of wind to reveal a very concerned and tired Mohawk. “He's in the infirmary, I can't calm him”

Kid nodded and made an affirming grunt before power walking across the ship, manic laughter and the sounds of wood and glass and metal being thrown around getting closer with every step. The infirmary door was thrown open, revealing the Massacre Soldier, blood dripping from his injured and bruised hands, curled in on himself, his shoulders heaving from the laughter and the heavy panicked breaths he was taking. His mask was off, thrown somewhere in the chaos, an unnerving smile on his face, his eyes blown out from rage and bloodlust and fear. Not a single piece of furniture in the room was in the right place or in the right orientation, glass and medications and tools scattered all over the floor, every reflective surface shattered, cabinet doors ripped right off their hinges laying haphazardly on the floor. Kid didn't give Killer a moment to react or flee, he'd learned his lesson over the last few days, this mania was different. A hug wasn't going to do it right now, he was beyond fucked up.

Kid gathered every piece of metal in the room with his fruit, using them to form a vice around Killer as the manic man ran right at him, his body falling to the floor like a downed tree as the metal caught his limbs and forced him to stop. His head hit the floor with a crack, still laughing even with his face pressed to the floor, tears streaming from his face as he struggled to break free of the tight metal swaddle with no success.

“Boss,” Mohawk said, though asking permission.

“Do it,” Kid replied, his boot on Killer's back to keep him from rocking back and forth. It pained him so much, watching his best friend suffer like this, having to use such force to stop him, but the man was out of control and Kid had already done everything he could without taking it this far.

Mohawk scrambled around the room, glass crunching under boot, struggling to find what he needed between the destroyed supplies. Finally he found what he was looking for and he kneeled at the blond man's side. He found a vein on the back of his calloused hand, injecting him with a clear fluid before removing the needle, replacing it with another, and injecting something else. Killer stopped fighting, the energy being drained from him as the sedative took effect, the laughter dying down as his breathing steadied and he came back down to earth. He looked up at Kid with pleading eyes, the smile wiped from his face, his fluffy hair sticking in strands to the tears and sweat on his face. Convinced he no longer had to restrain Killer, he let the various metals fall, kneeling at his side to support his head, which was quickly growing heavy. His eyelids twitched as Kid looked at him, flickering as he fought to keep them open, still looking up at Kid with eyes that spoke of betrayal and fear, but also relief.

“I've got you Kil,” Kid cooed, pushing the stray strands of blond from his tanned face, “just rest now, okay?”

“‘m sor-ry,” Killer's voice was strained and slurred, all his concentration going in to pushing the words out, fighting the pull of sleep, “tel-l her, ‘m sor-ry”

“I know you are Kil,” Kid assured, “you can tell her yourself when you're better okay? Just rest now.”

Tears were rolling silently down Kid's cheeks as he watched his friend fall unconscious on the infirmary floor, a single sob escaping him as he pulled Killer into his lap. Mohawk knew better than to comment, he just stood silently, letting Kid get the emotions out. It'd been a rough week, for everyone on the ship, and the usually strong and tough captain was no exception, he wasn't immune to the pain of loss and heartache.

“How long will he be out?” He finally sniffed, wiping his tears with his flesh hand.

“Few hours,” the doctor replied, breathing a sigh of relief that the tense moment had passed and he could finally move. “I gave him a heavy dose of his meds as well, so he shouldn't have another episode for a few days, but I'm not happy he stopped taking the meds in the first place. I don't want to say it, but I think he needs to be supervised, till we know hes stable”

“I'll make sure he takes them,” Kid nodded, “hand me his helm”

Mohawk gathered the discarded striped mask from where it had been thrown in the corner, handing it to Kid like a sacred item. The captain carefully slipped it back over Killer's face, knowing he'd have to remove it again for comfort once he had the blond settled in his bed, but wanting his face covered for the journey in case anyone was awake and wandering. Killer was entirely muscle, and Kid was maybe the only man on the ship who could carry him, letting the mechanics of his metal arm do most of the work for him as he lifted the limp first mate and stood.

“Have the henchies clean this after breakfast,” Kid said, Mohawk rushing to open the doors for him. “And make a list of everything that needs replacing, I'll pay for it myself”

Kid was asleep at Killer's side when he woke up in the captain's quarters, his own room was trashed so the redhead no doubt thought it better to bring him here. The man in question made soft snores, laying next to Killer in only his boxers, his good arm draped over Killer's front protectively. Killer felt heavy from sleep, but better. For the first time in days he could hear himself think, and fuck were the thoughts that came unpleasant.

He'd fucked up, he'd fucked up bad. Everything Heat had said was true. He was selfish, he'd abandoned you, he'd treated you like all you were good for was bearing him a child. After all you'd been through, everything you'd suffered, the months of hard work it took to make you feel safe and get you to open up, and he had to go and put his fucking boot in his mouth and fuck it all up.

Yes, his baby was dead. Yes, he was fucking heartbroken, and angry, and full of hatred for the world. But in his blind rage he'd misplaced his anger. This wasn't your fault, you hadn't done anything but exist in a world that only ever worked against you. You were mourning the loss just as much as he was, no, you were mourning it even more, because you'd lost more than he could even fathom. And where was he? Refusing to take his meds and breaking shit, when he should have been there holding your hand. His heart had shattered into a million tiny pieces when Heat said you'd tried to kill yourself, and he was right, that blood would have been on Killer's hands, because he wasn't there when he should have been, when you needed him.

And then there was the new baby, fuck. In all this pain and heartbreak, you'd found yourself with an orphaned child, innocent in all this, delicate and new to the world, and that responsibility had been so suddenly thrust into your already fragile hands. You must be so scared right now, he thought, thinking you had nowhere safe to call home, rejected by the person who was supposed to love you the most, with the terrifying responsibility of keeping another human alive. Heat said they were leaving, and he was glad you at least had him to help you, but it should have been Killer that was there. Your whole world had been thrown into a spin cycle and he wasn't there to hold you steady.

He would fix this, he thought, he couldn't lose you, not again. He would show you he cared, even if it meant accepting a baby that wasn't his while he still mourned the loss of his own. That child was dead, he couldn't bring him back, all he could do was focus on the living, on the future. And if he convinced you to take him back, maybe he could learn to love this child as his own. Or he'd at least pretend to, whatever it took to keep you from leaving him again. He needed you back, he needed you to love him, to forgive him for his transgressions, for his betrayals. He didn't know how to go on living in this cruel, fucked up world without you.

His mind set, he slid out from under Kid's arm. The redhead was a heavy sleeper, he'd probably be out for hours before he noticed Killer was gone. The first mate was wobbly on his feet, his head still heavy from sedation, but he fought through it, splashing water on his face in Kid's bathroom before pulling on his mask and setting to work.

Kid awoke with a panic, feeling around the empty space on the mattress and realising Killer was gone. Fuck fuck fuck was all he could think as he jumped out of the bed and pulled on his dirty pants from yesterday. He could hear furniture being moved, but the absence of manic laughter was at least reassuring as he followed the sound. He stood in Killer's open door for a moment. The room was surprisingly clean, broken furniture already either mended or removed, the floor swept, the bed made with military accuracy. Killer met his eyes through the holes in his mask as he approached the door, an armful of his own clothes in his hand.

“Move, please,” he politely requested, as Kid blocked the entrance to his room.

“Kil, what are you doing?” The redhead replied with concern.

“Fixing my fuck up,” he sighed, pushing Kid out of the way. Kid followed him curiously to your old room, where he dumped the clothes on the bed to add to the growing pile, before returning to his own room. Your room was noticeably empty of personal belongings, half of your stuff was already in Killer's room, moved over the last few months, but Heat had packed the rest this morning.

“By moving your shit to her room?” Kid questioned, “I don't understand”

“She can't fit a crib in that closet,” Killer replied matter-of-factly, collecting more things and repeating the process, “so I'm giving her my room”

“Kil, I don't get it,” Kid scratched his head, “can't you just apologise, surely she'll see the logic in staying with you”

“I'm not forcing her to do that,” he huffed, “I fucked up, Kid, she's not just gonna take me back overnight. If I force her back into my bed she'll either refuse and be gone for good, or she'll never stop resenting me. I'm giving her the space to come back without that pressure.” Killer paused and looked at his friend, a deep sigh coming from under the mask, “I need her back, Kid. I can't just sail away and forget about her, I'm in too deep”

“And what about the baby?” He asked, “you just gonna let her keep it?”

“That's not up to me, but if she wants to keep it I'm gonna support whatever she wants, whatever it takes to get her to stay,” Killer continued on his mission, “if the universe doesn't want me to have a kid, fine, whatever, I'm a bastard of a man, I probably don't deserve to have a kid. But she's better than me, and she has an opportunity here to still be a mother, despite how much the universe fought to take our baby from us. I'm not going to destroy her chance at happiness. She's suffered enough already”

“And what about… your baby?” Kid sighed.

“I'm not going to pretend I'm not grieving,” Killer stilled for a moment, “my heart is broken, but it'll never mend if I don't at least have her in my life. Like Heat said, miscarriages happen. I blamed her when I should have been blaming fate. I can't do anything to bring back my dead son but I can sure as hell do everything in my power to make sure the woman I love doesn't follow him to the grave”

“About that,” Kid shifted anxiously, an unspoken secret weighing heavy on his mind, “neither of you would come see him buried, and the rest of us just didn't feel like that was right, so I had the crew build a pyre instead.” Killer stood and looked at him, trying to absorb the meaning in Kid's words. “He's… uh… he's on my desk, for when you both feel ready to see him off together, however long that takes,” Kid continued, his eyes flashing with a spark of recognition as he remembered something, “and I made you these.”

Kid pulled two chains from his pocket and held them up for Killer to inspect. At the end of each chain was a pendant, a simple, flat teardrop shape with small black flecks in a random scattered pattern embedded into silver metal. “I infused the metal with his ashes, so you can each keep a piece of him”

“Kid..” Killer's voice cracked, the emotionally shattered man taking the pendants carefully in his hands.

“They're blank right now, I didn't know if you named him, but if, or when you have a name, I'll engrave it,” he added, carefully watching Killer as he silently looked at the jewellery. “Take em, Kil. Give her one when you go apologise”

“I… I don't know what to say,” Killer sniffed, a tear appearing under his mask and rolling down his neck to wet his shirt. “I thought he was gone. That I fucked up at even saying goodbye to him”

“I know you, Kil,” Kid forced the necklaces into his hand and held his own over Killer's as he wrapped the first mate's fingers around the jewellery. “You weren't in the right headspace, and I knew you'd regret it if we buried him without you, and I'm sure she's feeling the same. I'll keep him safe in my room, till you're both ready, however long that takes, then we'll let him join the sea. The currents will carry him, he'll travel further than we ever dreamed. Hell, maybe he'll reach Laughtale before we do”

Killer collapsed in a mess of sobs, and Kid was quick to catch him, holding his friend tight and pulling off his mask so he could press his face to Kid's chest unhindered. They stayed there for however long it took Killer to calm, Kid's bare chest wet with Killer's tears, and Killer's hair wet with the captain's, rocking back and forth till they finally found solace in their collective grief.

[NEXT CHAPTER]

[ckret2]

I just wanted to say a few things.

#1 you are an amazing writer, and your work gave me a reason to pick up a book again.

#2 If Bill can disasozeate (pardon my spelling) for millions of years, why does he simply not do that in The Void? Perhaps it is the feeling of control. He cannot leave the void unless he is let out and that is terrifying to him. Perhaps it is that he is waiting on nothing. I remember it was stated in that same chapter that he feels as if he is waiting on nothing.

#3 how to I view your older chapters on this fic? I am extremely new to Tumblr and I just got here from your A03. Do I simply have to keep scrolling? Thank you very much and please have a truly wonderful day! :D

-Vivian

vivian-za-determined-luna-moth asked:

'Ight so nvm, I am dumb and did not read your pinned comment.

I cannot wait to read more of your fantastic work!

:D

hey, you found it and that's what's important lol. God it would be such a dick move if i forced people to even just scroll back through all the posts I've tagged about this fic, considering uh,

... that's a lot of tagged posts.

Re: #2: I think you asked me the same question on AO3, but as far as I know AO3 doesn't send email notifications to guest accounts, so you probably didn't see my reply over there! So I'll copy-paste it here. (If you DID see my reply... lol sorry for copy/pasting at you.)

Humans can meditate for hours on end with no serious long-term psychological effects. But total sensory deprivation can make it impossible to tell whether your eyes are open or shut within 10 minutes and can induce hallucinations within 15 minutes. There's a huuuge difference between not much stimulation and NO stimulation.

And I don't think Bill ever once in his life experienced a pure void before Theraprism. OUTSIDE the Nightmare Realm, realities come and go, and his options are limited when there's no nearby dimensions for him to contact; but the Nightmare Realm is always, always there, never empty, and Bill's always in it.

Even if Bill HAD been in total voids before—voluntarily dissociating vs being locked in the solitary wellness void is like the difference between swimming underwater and being held underwater by your throat. Sure, you could just hold your breath to cope with being held underwater—after all, you can probably hold your breath for 30-60 seconds! Why would you panic in under 5 seconds?

But in reality you probably WOULD panic in under 5 seconds. You wouldn't simply calmly hold your breath and wait to be let up. Not unless you agreed to be held underwater, knew how long you'd be held under, and trusted that you'd be let up—and even then, you'd probably have to consciously suppress the instinct to struggle. If you had NONE of those reassurances? You'd panic, flail, and fight. Even though you COULD "simply" hold your breath.

Bill did not agree to go in the water, and he has no way of knowing when or if they'll let him up for air.

[danses-with-dogmeat]

Day 31 -- Edward Deegan

The (nsfw) details for Kinktober 2023, Day 31 are just below the cut!

Minors, please don’t interact.

Aphrodisiacs with Edward Deegan x g/n!Sole

Lordy lordy, how I was SO excited to write for this man. And hopefully this doesn't disappoint!

Sorry it took so long to get out as well, some life stuff came up this past week that held me up, but it's out now! 😁

I hope you all enjoy immensely lol 😏

Also, thank you to everyone who indulged me this October! Your support (especially with some of these lesser-known characters) was absolutely amazing! ❤️ I'm going to be taking somewhat of a lil break for the next couple weeks to post everything on AO3 and recover lol, but after that, I'll post an update and see about opening up requests for the first time in... Jesus, a VERY long time. I'll talk to y'all then!!!

Here is the link to my  Kinktober 2023 Event List so you can stay up-to-date, or re-visit these works as you please.

Included: Aphrodisiacs, masturbation, fantasies, voyeurism-ish, attempted confessions, actual confessions, kissing, touching, hand jobs, affection, sweetness, cuddling.

Words: 4.6k

--

The door burst open with a crash, almost rattling off its hinges in his haste, in his salacious wrath and desperation. Edward closed it just as aggressively, feeling the surface of his skin itch, feeling his breath pull in with heavy, heady gulps that had his chest straining at the seams. Sweat poured from him, in a way the ghoul didn’t even know it could, with his ruined skin. 

Is it happening? Is it… working?

He hoped so. 

After the hell he just went through? The embarrassment of the overwhelming heat that was encasing him, the labor of his breaths, the haze in his expression. Normally, he’s cool as can be, smooth, stoic, even, but he was gasping, shaking, and more so than that, he was tenting out the front of his cargo pants to the point of blunt obviousness. 

The symptoms don’t matter. He told himself, as the memory of Sole's baffled expression flashed in his foggy mind. As long as it works, none of it matters at all. 

They’ll see him, for the first time, he hoped, Sole would see what he was before he was… this. 

Edward didn’t like to wave his own flag too vigorously, no, he wasn’t a vain man, but he had been… maybe handsome was too strong a word, but he hadn’t been this, that’s for certain. Jack had reminded him time and time again, that he had been more attractive back before his ghoulification, but now he was more intimidating. It made his job of protecting the family and occasionally threatening people a bit easier, they both agreed on that account. 

When it came to Sole though… he wasn't sure he wanted to be intimidating. 

He didn’t know what he was doing, trying to get wrapped up with a pre-war widow(er) like them, but logic had nothing to do with this shit. Before them, he hadn’t cared, hadn’t minded the way he looked, hadn’t minded his solitude, his loyalty to this family and lack of contact with anyone outside of it. Edward had always promised not to dabble in Jack’s serums, no matter what outcomes they promised, but when it came to Sole, when it came to being… acceptable by their standards, he’d thought this was a good idea, thought it could make him… well, desirable was another strong word for him to use, but he at least hoped they could see him as something more than Jack Cabot’s bodyguard. 

Edward growled as he tugged his hat from his head, throwing it to the worn, wooden floor below. His room was dark, musty, and consisted of nothing more than a weapon’s trunk, a dresser and a single bed on the far side of the little room. He cast bits of armor and clothing over the whole of the floor as he moved towards that shoddy mattress, hearing it squeak and protest as he laid back on it and tugged at the stiff fabric of his cargo pants. His underwear followed shortly after, both being kicked to the base of the bed as he spread himself out on it. 

He felt he could crawl out of his own skin, hell maybe he wanted that. Maybe the transformation was happening now, but… goddamn, why was he so hard? Why was his mind so... stuck?

It’s true, he was usually thinking of Sole these days, but never this… disrespectfully. That curious expression of theirs as he excused himself from their and Jack’s meeting, the way their eyes had followed him out, the concern he saw there, right at the end. Oh, but how he craved their attention, even when it worried for him. 

He imagined the sort of expressions they’d make if he had his hands on them now, if he could’ve stayed, thrown Jack out of the dining room instead of leaving himself. He could take them over the table, lying down the dining mats to keep the wood from harshly bruising their soft skin as his hands moved over their body, as he laid overtop them, pressing them into the oaken hardness until they were arching against it, setting his mouth on them, his lack of lips, his hot tongue, hearing them gasp, feeling them grow needy beneath his worshipful touch. 

Edward’s breaths left him in pants now, very nearly moans as he found his dry, rough hand moving over his rigid, drooling cock. 

What the hell?

He hadn’t even realized he’d grabbed ahold of himself, he’d been so wrapped up in his fantasy. Already, the sensitive skin around his shaft burned with the ungentle friction of his hand, but… he couldn’t stop himself, no matter how he tried to use logic, tried to think about the pain his thrusting palm was causing him, it was even more painful to consider pulling away, to leave himself stiff and wanting. 

It was impossible, too, not to think of Sole. As much as it made him feel dirty, it made his teeth grit and his chest ache, there was nothing else in Edward’s head. No thoughts beyond them. He had no past, no present, no Cabot issues, no frustrations beyond the need to be near to Sole, the want to feel them in his arms, the gripping, dizzying necessity of feeling their warmth all around him, caressing, encasing his cock. 

It was shallow, it was rude, it was creepy, but fuck… it felt too good. 

He kept imaging it, in details like brushstrokes of a world-famous masterpiece, he saw the light in their eyes, the way their hair spread like a crown around their head, splendid and mussed from his attentions, the glisten of their spit on their lips, of his spit mingling there from their recent kisses, that vein bulging in their neck from the strain of holding back, from the greatness of the pleasure he brought them. 

“Sole, holy shit…” Edward rasped through gritted teeth, hearing the slap of skin as his hand moved rapidly over his erection, hitting the base of him with such force it had him flinching and bucking into his touch in the same movement. 

“Wish you were here.” He growled out, his voice a dry husk, breathless and scratchy. 

If they were here though, is this really what they’d want to be seeing? Want to be doing... with him?

Probably not. Edward’s mind tried to reason. Still though, shit doesn’t stop me from wanting it. Needing it. 

What the hell was in that serum? 

 The ghoul felt his cock might burst into flames with the increasing friction of his hand. He felt the foreskin catching at his textured palms, his calloused fingers, he felt pre-cum drooling down steadily, slicking what little it could as his hand tugged and bullied himself until tears sprung to the corners of his pale, bloodshot eyes. 

Sweat poured in rivers down the grooves of his flesh, unchanged, unsmoothed and still just as ghoulish as it’d been yesterday and a hundred years before that. 

If it doesn’t heal me… what will this serum do?

It was all his mind could afford to think. In short sentences, simple collections of words, as the bulk of his focus remained on Sole. Their face in the throes of pleasure, the imagined feel of them all around him. Their sweet scent, gritty but old-fashioned, somewhere between the adventures of the Commonwealth and home. The way their nails would scrape at his skin, the way they’d breathe his name, the way they’d seek him out, their eyes, their lips, their affections, all for him... In this ideal, fictional headspace of his. 

Still though, Edward's imagination had his body frantically catching up, growing closer and closer to his release as he painted the image in his mind of what they’d look like in the midst of their own climactic end, brought about by his hand. The way they’d cry his name, grip tightly to his cock, pull him further into their desperate grasp as they shuddered below his frame– it was so real, his imagining of it all, that Edward went tumbling over the edge right along with them. 

The ghoul couldn’t help the gasps leaving him, the moans that he begged the drywall not to allow to pass through, just in case Sole’s meeting was over now, in case Jack came to check on him, in case the house was silent, but for him. It was no use pleading with the house though, not when his voice was so stubborn. 

Not when his imagination decided to materialize something beyond his comprehension– beyond his wildest fears. 

“Shit… Ed– I’m sorry, I should-- yeah, I'll just...”

Sole’s voice was so quiet, like it was entering his ears from another dimension; distant, like melodies from a neighbor’s radio across the street. 

He almost didn’t react to their presence at all. 

Almost. 

No true words left the ghoul, then, as he frantically pulled the scratchy blanket over his lap on the mattress. It did little to cover the way his erection still stood, stiff and stubborn, tenting the fabric as he moved to conceal it and as much else of him as he possibly could in such haste. 

Edward allowed himself one clear of his throat, before he began apologizing, explaining his actions away, pleading their forgiveness, questioning if they saw anything– all at once in a strange amalgamation of nonsense that even he scratched his head at. 

“S-sorry. Not– This isn’t– You should probably– Ah, shit, Sole…” He ended with a defeated shake of his head, feeling embarrassment of two separate types heating his ears and cheeks with each passing moment they spent looking over at him. First, was the shame of this person that he loved and admired seeing him utterly debased and wretched in his dark little room, with their name on his tongue as he did it. Second… Well, the shame that he’d tried to change himself for them, without even knowing if they were interested at all, that he’d been so desperate as to do this to himself, rather than simply be honest with them. 

Two hundred years of protecting an ancient, powerful family from all manners of incomprehensible harm, and he was still a coward. Afraid of his own feelings, afraid of rejection, afraid of his own damn skin. 

“Are you…” Their gentle voice snapped him out of his mental anguish, “I just wanted to come and check on you. After you ran out on the meeting, well… It looked like you were gonna be sick or something. I wanted to make sure you’re okay.” 

Edward gulped, audibly and visually, and felt another wave of heat threaten to consume him, his cock jerking angrily below the blanket as a chill ran up his spine. 

Knock it off. His command to his body became more of a plea as he felt the serum bubbling up in his veins once again. 

“Wish you hadn’t seen this, Sole.” 

They didn’t leave, didn’t cringe or cry out or laugh at him, not when they first saw him, and not now. No, instead, Sole reached around and closed the door with a click behind them as they stepped into the dim little room, and made their way to sit on the far edge of his bed. 

“Are you alright?” Their bright eyes stayed locked to his, “What happened, Edward?”

His name on their lips was like a firebrand to his heart, setting it aglow with new, resounding affection that made his fingers twitch and his teeth grit together. 

“The serum…” He managed out, “Thought I could take some. See what happens, see if…” 

Edward’s own gasp interrupted him, as his body carried on with its basal needs without his consent. His fists clenched until his knuckles ached, until he felt the blood flow from his wrists halt in its tracks. 

“That’s what did this to you?” Sole blinked at him, their eyes remaining respectfully on his face as his body reacted to their voice, their proximity, the continuing effects of that damned serum.  Still though, even with all their unflappable respect for him, Edward could see they way their fingers fidgeted, the way their face seemed to heat, the way they so stubbornly made sure to keep their gaze on his face, and as far from his lap as they could without being overtly obvious.

"Jack said that he was experimenting a bit with the serums, but this is... Well..."

Sole cleared their throat as Edward mentally kicked himself.

Should've checked with the boss before trying this shit out on myself.

Idiot.

They must've seen the way he chastised himself within, for in the next moment, Sole scooted themself closer, and put a hand on his covered knee.

"I don't know if it's any of my business, really, but... Why did you take it?"

None of their business..? Edward could've laughed aloud at that. If only they knew.

"Thought it could help." He said vaguely, his voice still strained, his breath still more rapid than it had any right to be.

The place where their hand laid over his knee, even with the bed sheet keeping their skin from his, zapped life-giving defibrillations all throughout his body. It charged the blood in his veins, collected in pockets of heat in his chest, the base of his spine, the back of his head, between his legs, imprisoning the words in his head that he fought to pull out through his mouth. He wanted to tell them the truth, felt he needed to now, that they deserved to hear it, but his body demanded more. It wanted to act on his debased musings and pull Sole into his arms right now, to set his hungry mouth upon them, to tell them, not with his voice, but with the grip of his hands, the aching need of his heavy breaths, to show them, in favor of messily prying the words from his throat.

Can't do that. His true self told his body firmly, as many times as it could, to keep his hands in place on the mattress, to keep his eyes on the wall, rather than sweeping over their vault-suit clad body.

If I give myself an inch, I may not be able to stop.

That terrified him more than any other effect the serum could have on him. It scared him and made his mind and body tremble like the thought of becoming feral.

"Help what?" Sole prompted with a gentle whisper, and he could taste their breath as it washed over him. Jack's dessert coffee. Chocolate bon bons. Those sweet, frozen cherries the family has managed to keep all these years.

Edward's mouth watered.

"Edward?"

He must've been silent longer than he realized, but finally, the ghoul was able to blink, to take in a breath and hold it there, rather than panting it back out straightaway like a dog.

Maybe it's wearing off?

He could only hope.

Yet... The persisting aching firmness of his cock, the sweat collecting at the base of his back and along his chest, under his arms, it all told a different story.

"Sorry," He all but choked out the word. "I... It was for you."

Forcibly, he took the chance and set his gaze upon their face, trying to keep his body under his firm control as he took in their reaction.

"M-me? How... Why?"

Why? He let out a dry chuckle. That's a dangerous question to ask if you want to be out of here before dawn.

"Wanted to be better. Wanted to change so you could... So we..." A forceful shudder ran through his body, stilling his tongue, forcing his muscles to clench until they knotted, making his hips buck up off of the mattress until Sole was forced to pull their hand away.

"Shit--" His voice was back to a growl: low, intense, and charged with carnal desire he only dreamed he could keep at bay. "Have to leave, Sole. It's coming back."

"W-what is?" They stayed firmly, infuriatingly, next to him on the bed, their voice concerned, but also... something else.

"Edward," He felt his cock pulse and drool below the sheet at the way his name left them. "Tell me how to help you. I want to help."

"No." The ghoul shook his head, even as it fell backwards, slamming into the wall behind him as his body writhed and demanded attention.

"Please."

Fuck. He thought, his head still shaking in denial. Don't say that.

"It hurts me to see you like this. Especially if I had something to do with it."

Everything to do with it, more like.

"T-touch me."

It left him before Edward had a chance to reign it in, before his consciousness could plead with this serum-induced need of his and tell him to be patient, to speak to Sole, to tell them the whole truth, to take things slow, to make it last.

To his surprise though, instead of being offended, of scoffing and walking away, of looking disgusted or scared at his request, Sole, at last, let their eyes trail down his body. They even smiled as they bit their bottom lip, and moved their hands out towards him.

Without thinking, Edward leaned forward and into their touch, letting their palms press to the rough hills and valleys of his frame, letting them slide over his bare, glistening chest until one moved up to his face, and pulled him into a surprisingly lustful kiss.

Their passion rivalled his own, even, as they crawled almost on top of him, as their fingers thirsted for more area to touch, as they tilted their head and set their soft, warm lips upon his with vigor, kneading over his own marred mouth like his tongue held the key to their survival. It seemed theirs really did, in his case. His body needed them-- their touch-- like life needs water, needs air, needs sunshine, like a heart needs blood and a mind needs a thought. These feelings, the sensations they inspired, were a direct product of his being, but also the very reason he seemed to exist.

Edward finally gave permission for his own hands to set upon them in turn; though, he held back the force that the serum screamed to take them with. Stiffly, his palms caressed their waist, the jut of their hips, the small of their back, up to the base of their neck. He touched them like he was meant to cover them in it, like he was stained with paint meant to encase their entire being. Edward let himself kiss them, too, with the fervor this heat within him demanded. Let himself commit the shape of their lips and the sweet taste of them to his memory.

In case I never get the chance again.

He wasn't sure he'd blame them, if that was the case, but... at this point, there were many signs that pointed to something he hadn't considered.

Do they... Have they wanted me too? All this time?

Edward wished he could ask, but thoughts were like rising steam, and he wasn't able to grasp onto a single one and form it to words. Especially as Sole's hands travelled over him, as their lips left his and they moved their body downwards, adjusting so they could pull the sheet from overtop his bare form.

They did it slowly, their eyes asking before their voice could: 'Is this okay?'

He nodded to them, breathless, with his hands still firmly set upon their body, and they slid the scratchy blanket off him and to the unoccupied side of the mattress.

Sole barely took a pause, their eyes looking him over with just enough time for him to doubt their attraction-- no, their tolerance-- to and of his appearance. But then their hands were moving again, one sliding to the back of his neck, urging him back to their beckoning lips, while the other grazed over the head of his weeping cock, and took it in-hand.

"I've wanted this too, you know." Sole whispered into him, their hand moving slowly but firmly along the stiffness of his shaft, building that ever-growing heat in him to the point of pain.

Edward's mind was so addled, so distracted by their blinding touch, that he almost didn't hear what they'd just confessed. His eyes blinked open, his grip tightened unwittingly on their body as his expression pleaded 'tell me again.'

"You don't have to change a thing, Edward." Their thumb circled over the overly sensitive slit in his cock, and he pulled a hissing breath in between his teeth. "I want you just the way you are now."

Sole leaned in again, and he pressed forward more firmly than intended, thanking them with actions rather than the words he couldn't seem to muster in his current state. He moaned into the kiss, even, as their hand continued its relentless stroking, as it circled and tugged at his skin in a way more delectable than he ever seemed to master, than he ever thought was even possible.

But maybe that was because it was Sole's hand that was doing it.

They tried to pull away, to take in a much needed breath, and Edward couldn't help himself, couldn't pry his phantom lips away from their skin. He set them upon their cheek, down to their jaw, feeling the way their muscles clenched there in response, the way they shuddered when his rough lips journeyed to their sensitive neck.

Edward could feel everything.

He wasn't sure if it was the serum, or just the way his mind and heart clung to this contact-- to the fact that he was really here, doing this with Sole, with the man/woman of his dreams and most profound desires-- but he could feel every raise of a goosebump on their skin, feel their pulse thundering in their veins, could taste the essence of their being in their scent, on their flesh.

Their whole story: living before the war, the soap they'd used all those years ago, the cream they'd rubbed into their skin, and then their years locked away in their frozen prison, the hint of ice, of coolness they radiated from those long years, the ache of their great sadness, the strain of their muscles for undergoing that horrendous trauma. It was all there, beneath the touch of his lips, caressed by the heat of his breath. Edward cherished every bit of it, loved them for their scars, the same way they cared for him in spite of his own.

He didn't know why he didn't let himself see if before, didn't let himself believe it was true, but they really were a fine match.

Him and Sole... they understood each other. He knew their experiences better than any born and raised wastelander could, knew their struggles more intimately than the Cabot family ever could... and Sole knew of his own suffering more than any other human ever could.

Why'd I have to turn to extremes so soon? Risk fucking this up...

It was the only question-- the only thought-- he could stand to formulate as of now, as their grip squeezed over him, as their stiff fingers wrung his pleasure from his core out to the surface. Edward felt it building, felt the swell, the rhythm of his bucking hips grow fevered and desperate, and he felt their smile, even, before he glanced up to see it.

It was a focused sort of grin, their brows were drawn, their pupils blown wide and dark and wanting in a way that he thought it might just be his own reflection shining in them.

How could Sole look this way, for a man like me? A man, that isn't even--

The ghoul didn't have time to finish that thought, not as their thumb swiped over his tip again, as their other hand went down to join the first, massaging and kneading over his aching, burning, destitute hardness until he was holding back cries.

The meat of his wrist fit between clenching teeth, his forehead pressed to the hardness of Sole's collarbone as he leaned into the contact, aching and screaming for more with everything apart from his voice.

If Jack heard, or Wilhelmina...

If he hadn't been so occupied, he might've shuddered at the thought.

But this? Letting go, being vulnerable, allowing himself pleasure, a moment that was truly private between him and Sole? Anything was worth that. He'd lose his job, his room here, his name, his life, if it meant he could do this, see this, feel this again, with Sole by his side, in his arms, touching him this way.

He half wondered if he'd passed out in his bed after the last bout of pleasure, if he'd fallen asleep and the serum inspired the sweetest dream there was.

Sole's voice though, the feel of them, the way their scent and being surrounded him in every way... it couldn't be the case. It was sweeter than he believed reality could be, especially these days, but damnit, there was no doubt in his head that it was real.

"Let go, Edward."

Their voice was pleading with him, their hands pulling him along, never ceasing, as they brought him straight into that all-encompassing bliss. He couldn't hold back now, not at his climax, and Edward's head flew back, his muscles straining, his mouth falling open to release the most animalistic of sounds: a groan from the very base of him that had Sole writhing and gasping right along with him.

I made him sound like that. Their touch cried out as their hands squeezed and clenched until his essence was spilling out onto his clenching stomach, pouring down over their fingers and soiling the bedsheets below.

"Yes." Sole breathed, and he felt another shudder jolt through him, another spurt of seed from his pulsing cock. "That's it, hon. Let go for me."

Tears were collecting at the sides of Edward's eyes, his relief and euphoric release leaving him in trembles and heavy breaths.

It took a few moments, took the last of his pleasure to bleed out, and then Edward was back on earth, back in his room, back in this skin once more.

Sole pulled their touch from his over-sensitive cock, wiping their soiled hands carefully on the bedsheet before lying down beside him and resting their head on his shoulder. A cool hand smoothed its way over his body, making a home over his sweltering, still-heaving chest as Sole clung to him.

The serum hadn't quite worked, not the way Edward had intended it to, but... It really had worked though, hadn't it? Not the way he imagined, sure, but the end result was... close enough.

He didn't even realize it, not until his cheeks began to ache, but he was smiling, grinning toothily like a fool in love, as Sole rested against him, as he wound his arms around their form, holding them close, savoring every ounce of the person who accepted him, who didn't turn him away, who cared for him... as he was.

"Thank you." He rasped, sliding his hands over them as soothingly as he could manage.

Sole only hummed, a sweet, happy sound, and he felt the vibration of it throughout his body as they lay against him.

He felt at peace, then. He felt warm, he felt sated and valued and more content than he could ever recall before, and yet... A familiar sort of churning, a boiling sensation rose from deep inside him. His muscles twitched and his tired member gave a rousing pulse between his legs.

Edward could only swallow and do the ghoul equivalent of blushing, as Sole's wide eyes peeked up at him with one eyebrow quirked in question. Though, as he looked down at them-- in a coy, apologetic sort of way-- they still wore that fond, fiendish smile.

The night wasn't over just yet.