#aren't finished enough to share and might never be but i still get to share them!!! perfect scenario

[yearningaces]

Thinking and thoughts here

Could you just imagine the impossible with me? Being in a loving marriage with your beloved husband -who you believe is human because why wouldn't you? He looks and acts like every other human and monsters aren't real. And he just adored you so very much, he communicates when he doesn't understand something or when a miscommunication is had. He never fights with you but you both work together to fix any problems, and focus on showing how much you care for each other. Truthfully he's the model husband. Almost to a scripted degree, but you've never felt so adored. Especially when he mirrors your affection and never seems to expect anything explicit, nor want it either. It feels safe, and comfortable... So why do you feel the sense of dread in your gut as you're looking at him right now?

Well, it might be how he's standing in the doorway, bag of takeout in hand, smile on his face. Mirroring how he always stands. But it's a brief moment, a flash of dark lines almost like thread wrapping around his joints, moving him like a giant flesh puppet.

And just as quickly as they were seen- they're gone again. Just your loving husband, Dorrin. Standing tall and gazing down, as though the mountain was watching the river below. Absolutely enamored and unyielding to everyone except you who he'd mold himself to better love as time goes on.

At your expression, his smile fades into a look of concern. His gaze follows yours, to his hand. And the brief flash of threading is gone but he knows exactly what you've seen.

His gaze returns to you, hollow. Slowly setting down the bag he was carrying and slowly crosses the room to get to you.

He seems... Empty. As if any signals for how he should be acting have been cut off. His looming figure almost listless as he gazes down at you with a dull gaze, no life behind his eyes. After a moment, his voice finally rings out. "Has this one displeased you, little love?"

You feel an inherent wrongness about how your beloved husband is speaking presumably of himself as if he isn't even here, with a slight stumble back it answers his question well enough.

Dorrin slumps, like a wind up toy who's finished it's final dance. The voice that drifts through the air is so familiar yet leaves your brain trembling at the sheer magnitude of the being behind it even if unseen. "I apologize, this puppet has proven defective for its sole purpose. Rest assured, such an oversight will be rectified promptly. Only the best shall be allowed closest to you."

With a horrified expression you can only watch as Dorrin- what you know to be Dorrin is... Folded away. Limbs snapping together into a ball not unlike when a child is ready to toss away their doll. And it's... Not there anymore. No blink of an eye, no noise or sight, it was there and it wasn't. And now you stand in the empty living room of a home you've shared with someone you thought you knew so very well.

What do you do?

What can you do?

You can feel gazes on you still, the same when that thing would watch you while you rested together. You can try to move towards a door or even a window and find them consumed in darkness. There is no threat here, but you are not allowed to leave at the moment.

You don't know it yet, but Dorrin just wants to keep you safe in the home he's so carefully crafted for you alone. Tonight he'll leave a new puppet at your door, identical to the last hundred that had done something leading to any inconvenience on you. You've never noticed before, and he doesn't know how to condense himself into a small enough form to be loved by such a miniscule creature he's so deeply fallen for. But that puppets strings weren't good enough to remain hidden. The new one will be better.

Only the best for you.

He will ensure it.

(Basically what happens when an endless creature of Eldritch being falls for a little bitty human? Why not craft a puppet to express his love for them on a scale they can comprehend! But those fickle puppets- never perfect enough for his little love)

[sfehvn]

home

Description: Astarion left twenty years earlier, after defeating the elder brain, in search of a cure for his vampiric condition. Tav has not been coping well. A/N: A little angsty, alcohol abuse and Tav being overly-sexual in hopes of feeling some comfort in Astarion's absence; if you aren't comfortable with that you may want to skip this one! Also eludes to Tav being a sorcerer elf, but nothing is explicitly stated. Enjoy! :) Rating: M (18+ minors DNI) Word count: 2,438 Characters: Astarion x Tav

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  The gnawing sensation that remained deep-seated in your gut had all but dwindled. Nights filled with booze and meaningless sex did little to appease the hunger that twisted your insides viscerally. That damned vampire had only been in your life for but the slightest fraction. Somehow, he utterly rewired your brain's chemistry in such a minuscule time frame.

  “So that’s it then? You’re leaving after everything we’ve been through. Just like that?” The bitterness that dripped from every syllable was palpable as you spoke. An air of disgust and heartbreak hung between you and Astarion.

  He remained silent, the cogs of his mind turning while his face remained unreadable. “I will return for you, Tav. I swear it. I must do this alone.”

  The scene dissipates into the back of your otherwise empty mind. You had waited. Waited patiently for the return of your lover; spent years willfully ignorant to the fact that he had wholly left you. Two decades came and went before the realization sunk into the essence of your being. He was just gone. The many conquests that filled your bed were always reminiscent of him in at least one way, though you were never able to quench that desire. A white-haired man sits before you, telling fantastical stories, no doubt with the intention of bedding you. You would let him, of course. As he speaks, hands moving with a pristine emphasis of his tales, you can only discern the differences from your once-lover. His locks share the same silver hue but are much too short compared to Astarion’s. Soft tufts of curls are nowhere in sight; the stranger’s hair is pin-straight. The longer you listen to him speak, the more you coin him a prick. The ego wasn’t far from your lover’s, but it was without the redeeming charm you had grown to love.

  Despite all of this, you would still follow him to bed, or perhaps a latrine is more this man’s prerogative. Either way, you hoped you could squint your eyes just enough to forget the differences and see a glimpse of Astarion instead. 

  “Riveting as this conversation is,” You cut the stranger off, and your hand sits on his arm seductively. “I speculate we may get on better in private. Naked.” The pungent scent of alcohol is unmistakable. If it were a decent man before you, he may have chivalrously rejected your advances for fear of taking advantage. This was no decent man, though; he proves it by taking your hand in his and standing from the bar. You had been right about the latrine. He props you against the wall in the outhouse and has his wicked way with you. Your mind is numb as he pounds mindlessly into your mound. You squeeze your eyes shut, and try as you might, your lover is not present in the moment. Instead, you feel dirty, used, and ashamed. 

  You allow the man to finish, as it only took him a measly two minutes. You had counted. You didn’t bother faking your own orgasm. This one didn’t care. You adjusted your dress until its hem fell to your ankles. “When can I see you again?” He asks. You brush past him wordlessly. His shameless contention is not lost on you as a distasteful ‘bitch’ elicits from his mouth. You pay your tab and start your trek back home. 

  “Why, though? We’re a team! I told you I’d help you find a cure, Astarion. Please don’t leave me.” Painful tears sting at your eyes, once filled with so much sunshine and radiance. There had even been a touch of naivety to you at that time in your life.

  “I don’t want you to.” Astarion was sharp, pointed with his words. “You deserve a break. Months of leading a group of brain-wormed buffoons; you need it. It won’t take me long, and I will be back. I’ll always come back for you.” He reiterates.

  The possibility of death was not unfounded. The bitter truth was brutal to swallow but did not subdue your anger. If death were his fate, you could have saved him as you had many times before. It was entirely preventable if the case; he was just too stubborn to see it. Radiance of wealth exuded from your residence; nothing but the best for the hero of Baldur’s Gate. You scoffed. How trivial these things were when you did not have a soul to share it with. Your friends had all gone their separate ways, aside from Wyll and Karlach, who had come to find a happy union together among their time spent so closely in Avernus. Gale had forged a family with a lovely lady from Rivington and now had two children barely into adulthood, himself somewhat up there in age. Lae’Zel wasn’t the best at keeping in touch, but last you had heard, she was off kicking ass like always. Surprisingly, Shadowheart visited you as regularly as she could, but that was still seldom.

  All of your old traveling companions had gone on to do great things in their own ways. You were happy for them, you really were, but it’d be a lie if you didn’t admit there was some part of you that envied them. Envied the fulfillment they found within themselves, in the love they discovered in other people. All you had to show for yourself was a house too big for you alone to maintain and, admittedly, a bit of a drinking problem. You grumble as you fight to get the key into the lock of the front door, eager to wash the escapades from earlier off your body. 

  You slink into the tub's warm water, allowing the liquid to engulf you as you stare at the wall absently. What would you be today if Astarion was at your side? It was a question you had asked yourself a million times over. Probably not the calloused person you became. Not living off of any alcohol you could get your hands on, certainly. Recalling the abandonment made a lump rise in your throat, and you quickly choked it down. No, you would not spill another tear for the man who had left. You would not.

  You couldn’t.

  You stare at the nearly empty whiskey bottle across the room, but you are sure there is at least enough for a little glass left in it. You refrain from pulling out of the tub with the sole purpose of pouring that glass and instead scrub your body clean. Relief floods over you once you’ve successfully washed off the remnants of the stranger. His seed had stuck to your stomach like a paste when he pulled out, and the way it dried and tightened over your skin had made you want to vomit. You only exit the round tub once you’ve washed your hair. With your silk robe tied loosely around your body, chest exposed, you make a beeline for the whiskey glass that had been teasing you from across the room. A sigh of contempt leaves your mouth when a single drop drips out into your glass. You recap it and debate tossing it, but decide that will be a problem for future you. You take the candle that lit the washroom and shuffle into the hall, holding it far enough in front of you to provide adequate light through the long, dark corridor. The sound of creaking floorboards halts you in your tracks. The sound did not come from beneath your feet, but instead downstairs. Your ears strain in an attempt to make out any other noises. Another creak this time closer to the bottom of your stairs. 

  You blow out the candle and a quiet incantation for darkvision leaves your lips. There was no fear, whatever sorry bastard chose your home to break into would surely change their tune once they’re at the other end of one of your spells. Suddenly more alert and prepared for whoever emerged, you felt yourself sober as the adrenaline coursed your veins. As quickly as you’re able to make out a faint silhouette bounding up the stairs, another hymn leaves your lips. 

  “Ignis.” 

  A firebolt protrudes from the palm of your outstretched hand, bounding quicker for the stranger than they can respond. A searing sounds as it bores straight through the uninvited guest’s clothing, sizzling with now charred flesh. They groan in agony, the silhouette clutching at their injured chest. “You’re quite lucky I like a good chat, or you’d be dead already. Who are you and why are you in my home?” Your voice was unwavering and void of any emotion other than conviction. 

  “Well, I’d be lying if I say I’m surprised. I do suppose I set myself up for this one, darling. Always the sharp-shooter, you are.” The man attempts a laugh, but it’s lost under the pain in his voice. That voice.

  His voice.

  Forgotten under a sea of other voices, but you place his cadence immediately. You want to run to him, feel the way his arms fit so naturally around your body, let your lips fall upon his. Your first instincts are quickly replaced with anger. Betrayal. You wanted to hurl another firebolt at him; hells, a fireball would’ve been better but you bite it back. You were angry, but becoming homeless after burning your home down was not something you were prepared to deal with. With a small flick of your wrist, you light the sconces that line the hall and you’re met with the illuminated sight of Astarion. He looks not a day older from the last time you had seen him, dare you say he looked even better.

  There’s a tinge of color to his flesh, like he’d been kissed by the morning sun many days over. There was a pink hugh to his skin, reminiscent of fresh blood pumping from a beating heart. Your own skips a beat at the picture of him before you. He was alive. Alive alive. Gone are the ruby-red eyes you had grown to love, replaced with eyes as golden as fresh honey shimmering in the light. You chew the inside of your cheek in an attempt to fight back your tears. Your face remains unchanged despite the flurry of emotions assaulting your brain and heart. “Why are you in my home?” You repeat, as if you had no recollection of the man before you. 

  Astarion’s features reflect the hurt that he feels from your reaction but quickly he masks it. “Not exactly the welcome-home I was imagining, if I’m telling the truth. This is quite the place you’ve got. I’m pleasantly shocked at how well of a job you did decorating, dear. Though I will probably have to make a few adjustments-”

  “Twenty years.” You whisper incredulously, cutting Astarion from his rambling stupor.

  “I’m sorry?” 

  “Twenty years, Astarion!” You shout. You’re no longer able to hold back the floodgates in your eyes. They prick unforgivingly, threatening to pool over onto flushed cheeks. “Twenty years you were gone! And here you are, acting like nothing happened; acting like not a day has passed since we’ve last spoke!” You wipe the tears from your face, angrily laughing that your emotions had betrayed you so. “You don’t even know who I am anymore and you think for a second I’ll allow you in a position to hurt me again?” 

  Astarion is taken aback by the furious passion that laces your every word. The wound he had been nursing with his hand is abandoned as he attempts to step closer, but you take a swift step back. “It had to be done, Tav. The journey to get where I am today was an arduous one. One that I was not willing to ask you to take with me.”

  Your jaw clenches, and there’s no time to collect yourself before you respond. “You didn’t have to ask. I told you I would have followed you through the hells if it meant being with you.” You practically spit the words. 

  “I wouldn’t allow that.”

  “Gods, Astarion! Are you so dense that you don’t see it wasn’t your decision to make regarding what is best for me?” The venom is thick in your tone. “Maybe I would be some semblance of the same person you abandoned all those years ago if I had at least gotten to say goodbye. Perhaps if you had sent a letter I’d be a little more forthcoming with you right now.” 

  “It was not my intention to abandon you.” He quips back, but sees it was the wrong thing to say as the fire burns brighter behind your eyes. “Against my better judgement I guess that is what I did. Only because I couldn’t fathom saying goodbye to you. I-” He pauses for a beat. “I thought it may make things easier on you, too.”

  The laugh that leaves your mouth was a chortle, filled with malice and sarcasm. You grasped for anyway to hurt him in the way he hurt you, “Well you ruined me, Astarion.”

  “I did not, you look-”

  “Looks are deceiving. I would figure you know that by now. For example, just by looking at me you probably can’t tell I drank my weight in whiskey today. Or yesterday. Or the day before.” You purse your lips. “You probably can’t tell that I allowed a bastard of a man to open my legs and fuck me simply because he shared your hair color just earlier in the evening. Or that a tenday ago I fucked another man who’s laugh almost made me believe you were there. Only for a moment, of course.” There was shame in your words and you wanted to cry harder as you voiced all of the ways you had failed to care for yourself. The desire to make him feel what you felt was too great. You wanted him to hate you the way you had grown to despise him.

  His arms pulled you firmly against him, his head ducking to bury his face into your wet hair. You soften under his touch, allowing yourself to go limp as he holds you. Guilt eats at Astarion’s subconscious as you cry into his shirt. It didn’t matter if you tried to push him away. It didn’t matter what you had done to cope with his absence. He was home and he was going to prove to you that he was not going anywhere ever again. Everything he had gone through in the past twenty years, he had powered through with the thought of making it home.

  You were his home.

[writer-freak]

Waking up with them | Valo x reader

Characters: Yoru, Gekko, Chamber, Phoenix, Viper and Reyna

Warnings: Gn reader, fluff, kissing, english isn't my first language

A/n: I really wanna write more this year so I'm currently working on a request rules post. Hope that I can finish it soon but I also wanna make it aesthetic so we'll see. <3

Yoru

Yoru’s usually the first one up, like 95% of the time, but getting up? that’s a whole different story. He’s not a morning person, so he tends to stay in bed for quite a while. He just loves how quiet the early morning is, just sitting there watching the sunlight illuminate the room. It’s one of the moments where he lets himself soften up a bit, just looking at you peacefully sleeping.

When it comes to waking you up, he’s not exactly the gentlest, but he’s got his own sweet way of doing it. He might brush your hair out of your face or lean in close to directly say something like, “Oi, wake up already.” in your ear.

If you’re being extra stubborn , he’ll start teasing you, tickling you or covering you collarbone and neck with kisses and hickeys until you finally groan and get up, which just makes him smirk.

On lazy mornings, he might stay in bed with you longer than usual, leaning on one elbow while he traces random patterns on your skin with his fingers or just holding you close to him.

And he espacially loves those quiet moments for a bit of light teasing with you. If you suggest staying in bed even longer, he’s secretly all for it, though he’ll pretend it’s just to humor you.

On busier days he'll make sure you're both up and ready to go on time. While Yoru’s not a morning person, so he can be a little grumpy, but he still takes charge in this situation. If you’re dragging your feet, don’t be surprised if he wraps his arms around you from behind and growls something like, “Come on, let’s go, slowpoke.”

Yoru doesn’t usually do the whole “affectionate” thing, but mornings are a bit different. He loves noticing the little details about you, like how messy your hair gets or the way you bury your face in the pillow. Every now and then, he’ll pull you into a kiss that starts out slow and lazy but quickly gets heated, it’s his way of soaking in your presence before the day kicks off.

Gekko

You’re usually the first one up since Gekko tends to sleep like a rock. He’s often sprawled out across the bed, one arm thrown over you making it harder for you to get up.

If you’re the one waking him up, it’s probably by tracing circles on his chest or sneaking soft kisses on his cheek. When he finally stirs, his first move is to pull you closer, mumbling in that half-asleep, raspy voice, “Five more minutes…”

If he’s the one waking you up (on the rare occasions), it’s really soft and playful. He’ll kiss your forehead and grin as he whispers, “Good morning, beautiful.”

On more lazy mornings, Gekko loves staying in bed with you as long as you’ll let him. His little buddies usually hop onto the bed to join in the cuddles, making it even cozier.

Breakfast tends to be slightly chaotic with everyone involved, but despite that he can never get enough of your laugh as you both try (and maybe fail) to cook together.

Even on busy days, Gekko’s mornings are a bit slow but always shows his care for you. If you aren't going out together he’ll make sure you’re all set before he heads out, giving you a long kiss and throwing in a “Don’t miss me too much.”

Physical touch is totally Gekko’s thing, so he’s always finding a way to be close, wrapping an arm around you or resting his chin on your shoulder.

On those slower mornings, he loves whispering sweet things into your ear or shares whatever random dream he had. Sometimes those moments turn into soft, passionate kisses that make it really hard to actually get out of bed.

Chamber

Chamber’s always up early. By the time you wake up, he’s either already perfectly dressed or sipping his espresso looking like straight out of a café ad. He always loves watching you wake up, you're groggy appearance making a soft smile appear on his lips.

If you’re still asleep but need to get up, he leans in to press a kiss to your temple or gently nudge your shoulder while murmuring, “Mon amour, it’s time to wake up.” On the rare occasion you’re the one waking him, you’ll catch him looking entirely relaxed, his hair a little messy, his whole vibe softer than usual.

On lazy mornings, Chamber doesn’t mind indulging. He’ll stay in bed with you, running his hands over your body or lightly tracing your lips with his thumb. And of course, breakfast is brought to you, he insists on spoiling you, no arguments allowed.

On busy mornings, he’s all about efficiency. He’s never really in a rush, but everything he does feels intentional. He’ll help you get ready, whether it’s tying your tie or brushing lint off your shirt. Before heading out, he’ll kiss your hand, a quiet little promise that he’ll be back for you.

Chamber has this way of taking care of you that feels so effortless. Whether it’s handing you your morning coffee or pulling you in for a tender kiss, it’s just second nature to him. On slower mornings, he’s completely unhurried, his touch lingers, his kisses teasing and light or deep enough to leave you completely breathless.

Phoenix

Phoenix is usually the first one up, full of energy and ready to go. But if he’s had a late night, he’ll totally sleep in and cling to you like you’re his favorite teddy bear.

If he wakes up before you, he’ll playfully shake you awake, announcing something like, “Babe, the world needs us” On the flip side, if you’re the one waking him, he’ll groggily pull you back into bed with a cheeky grin, muttering, “Just a few minutes longer.”

Lazy mornings with Phoenix are always fun. He might suggest breakfast in bed or turn on some music and tries to get you to dance with him. You’ll probably end up in his arms, laughing as he spins you around the kitchen.

On busy mornings, he’s quick but always thoughtful, making sure that both of you are ready for the day. He’ll give you a goodbye kiss with a wink and throw in a playful “Don’t forget to miss me.”

Phoenix always wants to make sure there is a smile on your face, whether it’s cracking a silly joke or surprising you with a quick kiss. On slower days, he loves nuzzling into your neck and covering you in kisses until you’re giggling. His touch is always incredibly warm, and his affection usually ends in some flirty banter that makes you unwilling to get out of bed.

Viper

Viper’s always up first, sticking to her routine. She loves the quiet silence of the early morning and usually lets you sleep a bit longer.

When she does wake you, it’s gentle, a soft touch on your shoulder and a calm, “It’s time to get up.” On the rare occasion she lets herself relax, she might lean down and press a kiss to your forehead, her lips lingering just a bit longer than usual.

Lazy mornings with Viper feel special. She really treasures those rare chances to just slow down, maybe reading a book while you rest your head on her lap, or sitting with you on the balcony, quietly enjoying the morning together.

On busy mornings, her routine is very efficient, but she always makes sure you’re ready too. If you’re dragging behind, she’ll guide you with a gentle hand on your back and a firm but caring tone to keep you moving.

Viper’s way of showing affection is subtle, but it means so much. She might brush her fingers along your jaw or let her hand rest on yours during breakfast, these little gestures that speak volumes. And when her control slips on rare mornings, her kisses get deeper and more intense, leaving you breathless and wanting more.

Reyna

Reyna likes to wake up on her own terms. If there’s nothing pressing, she’ll happily stay in bed with you, soaking up the warmth and comfort for as long as she can.

When she’s the one waking you, it’s with a low, “Good morning, mi amor” as her lips trail softly along your shoulder. But if you’re the one waking her, don’t expect to leave easily, she’ll pull you back into her arms with a sly smile, teasing, “Leaving already?”

Lazy mornings with Reyna are pure bliss. She loves taking it slow, having intimate conversations, and sharing lingering touches. Breakfast feels almost luxurious, with her feeding you bites of food or sipping her coffee while sitting close to you so that she can touch you.

On busy mornings, she’s more composed, moving at her own pace. But when her eyes land on you, there’s always a softness there. Before heading out, she’ll pull you in for a kiss, deep and searing, her hand gently cradling your face.

Reyna’s protective side really comes out in the early mornings through tender gestures, tucking your hair behind your ear, stroking your cheek, or whispering sweet affirmations. Her kisses effortlessly go from soft and sweet to passionate, leaving you feeling cherished and utterly adored.

Divider by: @saradika-graphics

[luveline]

kiss over the interweb with sirius! him and reader have been together for awhile maybe since they were like 18/19 and them and being still super in love foreva! cliche couple loveliness

tysm for requesting ♡ fem!reader, 1k

Sirius' hair looks blue-black in the light. His smile shines mega watt gorgeous and his laugh bounces between pint glasses and plates of half eaten dinner. He's at the head of a long, long table, his friends and friend's friends turned out for a celebration of him. You aren't half as loud nor confident, but when he insisted you sit squished beside him, you couldn't say no. 

"Where the hell have you been?" he questions, grabbing your waist as soon as you walk close enough. Any conversation he led swiftly pauses. "This is the worst birthday ever, babe, you keep disappearing." 

Sirius has kept you within arm's reach for the last five years and it doesn't matter, he yanks you into his lap and kisses your cheek, careful not to mess with your makeup. His hand slides down to your hand where he twists your engagement ring around your finger. You're happy to get married but you're not in any big rush. Sirius, on the other hand, is desperate to get you down the aisle. Has been for years. 

"Can't believe you're twenty four," you say, unbothered by the weight of tens of eyes on you as you take his face into your hands. You could draw him from memory. You could do it with your eyes closed. "You're finally growing into your nose." 

Sirius (who, for the record, has an extremely handsome nose), beams at you. "You love this nose." 

"I do." Sorry to his friends, but you share a gross, amazing kiss right then and there. 

"Is that legal?" James asks. 

"No." Remus clinks his drink against James'. "Will you get me another lemonade and blackcurrant, please? My legs hurt." 

Sirius laughs into your mouth as James says, "No they don't. You're just lazy today. I know the difference." 

"Will you get me one anyways? Please, James, I love you." 

"They're almost as in love as we are," Sirius says, encouraging you back gently. "And we're sick." 

You ease off of his lap and back into your seat. You've already sectioned off the lettuce and tomatoes from your salad for his perusal, and laying on a napkin by your plate is the extra fork you asked for and they forgot to give you. "Where'd you get this?" you ask. 

"That's how long you took! Finish your food, doll, before it's stone cold." 

You eat your food but he keeps distracting you. Even when he's talking to people he's squeezing your thigh under the table or bringing the salt shaker closer to you. You shove your plate away when things get too cold to soldier on, dragged into a conversation with Mary sitting to your left and her girlfriend Emmeline. 

Sirius has always had a good bunch of friends. He's never made you feel like an outsider when you're with them, and you think they might actually really like you. You'd hope it, after this long together.

"Sweetness," Sirius says, wrapping his arms over your shoulders heavily, "another drink? And dessert, too, what dessert do you want?" He kisses your cheek between questions, gets distracted, stops asking and just hugs you to his chest for a bit. 

"This is nice, huh?" you ask quietly. 

He squishes you. "I'm gonna go get you another drink and then it'll be perfect." 

You check your watch covertly, and, a master of trickery, turn into his arms to blag a kiss. The funny breathless feeling of his embrace starts to bloom in your chest, alive and well despite the thousands of days spent within it. He's your other half, your found piece, and every minute with him carries a shine that refuses to waver. Things calm down, of course, but you don't doubt for a moment that Sirius is as in sickening love with you as you are with him. The honeymoon phase has lingered like the heat of a long kiss. 

"Happy birthday," you say as you pull away. 

"Thank you. You know, I feel very lucky. I hope you know that." 

You do. And you're glad he wants to tell you but maybe not in front of so many people, which is why the restaurant staff's perfect timing saves the day. Two waitresses carry a white piece of solid plastic and atop it waits your big surprise; a birthday cake with twenty four candles, three tiers of his favorite flavours, coffee, lemon, and plain chocolate fudge. The frosting for each is real buttercream to compliment the sponge, because fondant is for losers and you know what your baby likes. The candles flicker bright as the waitresses begin to sing, and for a solid five seconds, while all his friends join in, celebrating him and him alone, he turns his head to smile at you. 

His smile quickly turns to a glare. But, ever a good sport, Sirius pushes aside your plates for the cake to be bestowed and blows out the candles soundtracked by a raucous wave of cheers. 

"Hip hip!" James shouts. 

You wince at the sheet volume of the answering hurray, but Sirius is laughing, and that's all that matters. 

"First slice for my gorgeous fiancé!" he declares. "I wouldn't be in such good spirits nor state if she weren't with me today. I love you, sweetheart." 

Your cheeks flush with pride. "I love you," you say, receiving his quick kiss eagerly. 

"Don't get spit on the cake, lovebirds! Bagsy the second slice." 

"You can't bagsy the second slice, James, it's his birthday," Mathilde laughs. 

"Look, if he wanted the second slice, he should've said. I gave him loads of time to jump in. What flavours did you get, Y/N? You know what, don't tell me. I trust your judgement." 

[nightlyrequiem]

HI HIHI i hope ur well!!! I would LOVEEE to make a very self indulgent Valeria request, so basically I am an autopsy tech and embalmer/mortician and I think it would be a cool plot like Valeria’s gf works with her and helps her out with all the bodies that she has to deal with basically. Id love for her to have a very feminine personality like a lil bimbo wife that is lowkey covered in blood 90% of the time lmao. And for the plot itself im not very creative ill sorta take anything fluff or smut mostly 😼 but its my birthday in like a week so ill leave it in your hands hehehe

HIIIIIII! I'm doing well, hope you're doing well too!! It's actually kind of funny that you request this because I have a thing in progress where Reader works in a morgue! Such a cool job btw

I enjoyed writing this, I did a little research but there might still be some inaccuracies I hope there aren't too many 🥲

Happy early birthday, too! I hope it's an amazing day <3

Tags/Warnings: WLW, Very Minor Graphic Depiction of a Corpse, Fluff, Suggestive Themes, Smut, Pre-Established Relationship

Embalming and Bows

You hum to yourself as you prepare the cavity embalming fluid. Trocars connecting to a man's hollow organs doing the work to suction out unwanted fluids. A cheery song with questionably sexual lyrics plays quietly while you work. The man on your table hasn't been handled with the usual respect you'd award corpses. You haven't even closed his eyes. He crossed Valeria. Stole drugs, or something. You aren't actually sure. Doesn't really matter. You're embalming him for her so she can display him outside as a warning. Slowing down the decomposition process long enough for the point to get across. You've done this for her a few times. Happy to support your partner's hobbies.

Your pink apron has a few stains. Blood as well as other things. Hands grip your hips, startling you into dropping the scalpel you just picked up.

"You've been down here for hours." Valeria murmurs into your ear. You smile and turn your head to look at her over your shoulder. 

"I'm working." You reply. No bite to your voice. Valeria is always welcome to come interrupt you.

"Yeah?" Valeria hums, glancing at the man. "How's that going for you?"

You pull away gently and bend down to pick up your scalpel. Intentionally giving Valeria an eyeful of your panties. A short skirt isn't ideal to work in. But you're not technically on the clock and you felt like dressing cute today. "It's going fine." You reply, looking at the corpse. "I'm almost done. Just need to finish the cavity embalming and then he's good to go."

Valeria nods approvingly. There's a gleam in her eyes as she watches you move around. You're done draining him, so you begin to pump in the embalming fluid. 

"Quite the lengthy process, you should walk me through it sometime." Valeria says.

"I'd love to." You grin, eager to share your career with her. "It's a bit of a long process, even more when you're preening them."

Valeria moves closer and presses against you. "Oh yeah?" She hums.

"You're going to get all gross." You warn. Some of those stains aren't stains yet. Valeria lowers her head and presses a small kiss against your throat.

"A little blood never hurt anyone, in fact I like it when you're covered in it." She replies, voice dropping an octave. "Tell me more about the preening, sounds sexy."

"Not at all." You shake your head, slapping her shoulder playfully. "I have to shave off the peach fuzz on their faces, wire their jaws shut, clean them, close their eyes, and sometimes do their hair and makeup."

Valeria peppers your throat in kisses.

"I'm sure the makeup bit is enjoyable for you." 

You carefully peel off you gloves and chuck them at the trashcan. Missing terribly. "hm. You should let me do your makeup sometime." You say. Valeria grabs the backs of your thighs and hoists you onto the counter. It's cold under your bare skin. She steps between your thighs and sucks a bruise into the skin of your throat.

"You can do my makeup whatever way you want when I die." She offers. She's making a joke, but you don't find it very funny.

"I don't like to think about you dying." You scold. "Nobody wants to embalm their own girlfriend."

"Have me stuffed then, my other girlfriend is a taxidermist. She'll give you a discount."

You don't find those jokes very funny either. You gently push her away and hop off the counter.

"Not funny. Just for that you're not getting any tonight." You check on the body, making sure everything is going smoothly - that there are no leaks in the tubes. It was a nightmare to clean them the last time there was. The smell lingered for a week.

"I'm kidding Mi pequeña tanatorio." Valeria says. "That skirt looks very good on you." She very tactfully changes the subject. You beam at her from over your shoulder.

"Thank you, I bought it yesterday, along with a bunch of other things." You say. Turning to face her. "I found this new, super cute store full of the most beautiful dresses I've ever seen." 

"And how much did that cost you?"

You begin to start putting your tools away. "It costed you nine hundred-fifty."

Valeria quirks a brow.

"I don't recall you asking to spend my money." She says. You blink at her innocently.

"Oh, whoops!" You grin. "I guess I'll just have to take back all those low cut, form fitting dresses... shame, they did wonders for my tits." You turn back around, filling up a tub with bleach to clean some of the incision tools.

"You don't need to do all of that, Corazón." Valeria dismisses. "You'll just have to repay me."

"Yeah?" You reply with a sultry tone. "How would you like me to repay you, hm?"

"You'll see soon."

A week passes by. Your efforts have kept the man decently fresh, but nature's will is stronger than any embalming fluid and soon the man begins to rot. You and Valeria pass under the bridge he's hanged from as you walk back to her car. You're fed, full, and content. Valeria treated you to a very nice restaurant for your birthday. Presenting you with gift after gift in a secluded corner. smiling at your girlish gasps. Valeria is of course carrying the bags and boxes they came in. You're limping slightly, your heels having chewed blisters into your heels, but you ignore the pain. Excited by the gifts and dinner, and what's going to be occurring when you get home. Dinner, gifts, and sweet sex to end your night.

Back in the bedroom, you shed your heels and sigh in relief. Freeing your feet from their pretty, arched prisons. You sit back on the bed while Valeria lights a few candles and sets your presents on the floor beside the closet. She approaches you while loosening her tie, it's enough to flood the silk of your panties. She crawls onto the bed toward you.

"Had fun?" She murmurs. Grabbing your thighs and pulling you towards her.

"I did." You reply quietly. Wrapping your arms around her shoulders.

Valeria's lips curl into a small smirk. 

"Good. Lay back."

You comply, laying back against the feathery pillows. Heat pools into your lower stomach as Valeria sits up and removes her pants, chucking them off the bed. Her belt clatters against the floor. You watch her reach into the nightstand, grabbing a harness. You snake a hand between your legs to lightly tease yourself. She straps it to her hips and moves over you, reverently running her hands over your arms.

"You're so beautiful." She whispers. Hands gravitating towards your breasts. Valeria gives them a gentle squeeze as she kisses you. One hand slowly moving down between your bodies. She grabs ahold of her silicone cock and aligns it with your entrance. Knowing you're already worked up enough to not need that much preparation. She buries her face into your neck as she slowly pushes in. Sinking herself into your wet heat. Your inner walls work to pull her in deeper, sheathing her to the hilt. 

Valeria pumps herself into you. You moan into her ear without shame as the head repeatedly bumps into that one sweet spot inside of you. Your legs lock around her hips and pull her closer. Your own hips canting up for a deeper angle. Valeria fucks you sweetly. taking her time with you. One of her hands has found its way to your clit. Fingers toying with the sensitive bundle of nerves expertly.

"I should fuck you in the morgue someday." She growls.

"That's a weird thing to want." You moan, barely getting the words out. Valeria pulls you up into her lap. Thrusting up into you, she can't feel anything but clearly, it's doing something to her anyway. Her panting breaths puff against your neck, her hands digging into your lower back.

"Why? There's something so erotic about doing you somewhere I shouldn't."

"Like when we-" You cut yourself off with a whine. "When we fucked in that bar bathroom?"

The coil in your lower abdomen grows tighter and tighter. You rut against her, chasing that release, your slick trickling down the shaft.

"Exactly like it." She replies. "Are you close?"

You nod, nosing along her neck. You can feel your mascara running. "Mhm."

"Good, that's good." Valeria coos, her strong arms keeping you close to her. Black hairs tickle your face and you reach up and lightly tug them. "I want you to come for me."

With her permission you thrust your hips down, mind clearing of everything but the big pink strap currently penetrating you. You shut your eyes and let out a guttural groan, creaming around Valeria's cock.

She pumps it into you a few more times before going still. Sweat coating her neck and back. You slump against her and she slowly lays you down. quickly detaching the harness. You relax into the soft blankets of the bed while Valeria shuffles around with her pants. The bed dips as Valeria lays beside you, lovingly touching your jaw.

"Happy birthday." She whispers, kissing your forehead. You mumble back at her. Soaking in that post-sex high. "You still need to repay me for that money you spent, though."

You furrow your brows. "What?" You mutter. Not bothering to open your eyes.

"You can't just spend that much without giving me something in return." She replies, a smile in her voice.

"I embalm people for you." You mumble defensively. "How else am I supposed to repay you?"

When Valeria doesn't reply you open your eyes. Stunned into a momentary silence. She has a small velvety box presented to you. A seven-carat diamond ring glittering in the candlelight. You shoot up, mouth agape.

"You can repay me by agreeing to be mine forever."

Your hands fly to your mouth. "You're proposing?"

Your question wins you a dry look from Valeria. Yes, she's proposing. You had always imagined this moment. You in a carefully put together outfit, perfect hair and makeup, Valeria down on one knee. It's not exactly the same as your fantasies but you're happy, nonetheless.

You smile gleefully and kiss her.

"Yes!" You say excitedly, voice bordering on a squeal. Valeria chuckles and slides the ring onto your finger. Watching you immediately start inspecting it. Turning your hand this way and that to watch the diamond sparkle. "It's gorgeous." You gush.

Valeria pulls you back down beside her. Sighing tiredly as she rests her chin on the top of your head. "I'm glad you like it, happy birthday Corazón, I love you."

[see-arcane]

Worst match-ups for Jonathan in the Classic Vamps Line-Up?

Oh man

Lord Ruthven of "The Vampyre"

Would definitely be thirsty to alternately drink him or torment him because the guy has a kink for making virtuous pretty young things deader, miserabler, and/or insaner than they started. But, all things considered, I think Jonathan would either side step him or relieve him of his head--the Vampyre is shown to be fairly limited in his supernatural juice, preferring to use his own knives to open throats rather than chomping. Jonathan could take him.

Clarimonde

She would be fiending for Mr. Holiest 'I would kill and die and blaspheme in every direction for my beloved' Love so fast. But, seeing as she is not Mina, no sale. Jonathan would scramble out of psychic reach the second he got airdropped a little ;) from her and feel ashamed about daring to think a stranger was pretty. No amount of loving or hedonistic pspspsps will get him back either. Sorry, Clarimonde. (Talk with Mina though, maybe if you get a permission slip you three can work something out)

The Family of the Vourdalak

Good news! No risk of romantic entanglement, also for Mina reasons! No crush on the vampire patriarch's daughter! Bad news. Jonathan's still going to Jonathan and that usually means unwittingly endearing himself to nice strangers he shares a roof with. Someone's going to get attached to him in Gorcha's house -> threat of being targeted by the Vourdalak 'turn who you love' curse. And honestly, unless he kicks into the spontaneous super speed that got his ass through the Carpathians, Jonathan might get got here. These Vourdalaks are sturdy enough to walk off heart impaling and attack en masse as a shrieking tidal wave dedicated to Not Letting You Escape. The narrator of the original short story only made it because he had a horse. If Jonathan was solo? No telling...but his odds aren't good.

Countess Dolingen and the Undead Village of "Dracula's Guest"

Proto-Jonathan made it out of their reach via Dracula saving his ass. Finished Jonathan? It depends on him being Pre or Post-October 3rd. Human Jonathan out on a little nature walk? Probably gets got. Enigmatic Cryptid Jonathan, fresh from lopping off Dracula's head? Dolingen and crew alternately A) Keep their distance of B) Toss him a gift basket (also from a distance).

Carmilla

If she's sticking to her known MO, she's likely not interested in Jonathan. But if it's down to a confrontation, my money is actually still on Jonathan, pre or post-October 3rd. Carmilla is not a fighter. She infiltrates, she drinks a victim to death or undeath, and she ditches. If he makes it to her coffin, it's over for her. (It's over for her much faster if she happened to target Mina or Lucy, but I digress)

Helen Penclosa of "The Parasite"

Somehow she keeps winding up in vampire anthologies despite being more of the 'hypnotism/possession' villain type, but if she's good enough for the anthologies, she's good enough for this list as a psychic vampire. In brief: Jonathan loses. He loses bad. If he does not have outside help or she doesn't helpfully croak out of her own poor health, we are never seeing this boy again because Penclosa is puppet mastering his romantic ass out of sight forever. No contest. RIP. (Don't worry, Mina will handle it. But still. Not Jonno solo.)

[writingquestionsanswered]

Hi! Do you have any tips how to not lose interest in a story and be enough interested to start/do write if? Personally I just get hyperfixated on a story idea I have, do the brainstorming, even the planning, sometimes world building and if I get serious I make lists about almost everything but never end up writing even if I have interest still, but at most cases at the point I could start writing I just loose interest and get bored of a story when I'm done figuring out what it'll be about and maybe because I don't really like thinking about the climax or the end of the story...

Hyperfixation on Planning Story, But Can't Write It

I do have some tips on rekindling your interest in your story, which I'll link below, but first I think it's worth addressing the specific issues you mentioned: that you don't like to think about the climax or end of the story.

Have you thought at all about why you feel that way? There are a few potential reasons I can think of:

1 - Your story doesn't have a conflict, so your story doesn't have a natural climax or ending. Stories revolve around conflict, or in other words a problem that needs to be solved. This problem could be in the character's heart and mind (internal conflict), in the character's situation/life/world (external conflict), or you can have both at the same time. Many stories these days have a parallel internal and external conflict. Stories are ultimately about someone (or a bunch of someones) trying to solve a problem. In order to solve that problem, they need to reach a particular goal or accomplish a particular thing. The bulk of the story will be their struggle to reach this goal as they overcome the obstacles along the way. The climax of the story is where they face down the cause of the conflict once and for all, whether that's a villain (like an evil wizard or corrupt corporation) or a force (like illness or a natural disaster) and try to solve the problem once and for all. Everything after that is the aftermath... whether they succeeded or failed, patching up their "wounds" from the "battle" (again, it doesn't have to be actual wounds or an actual battle), and settling into the post-conflict life. That's your ending.

2 - You have a conflict, but haven't figured out how it would be resolved, so the climax and ending are fuzzy. If you have a conflict but aren't sure how it would be resolved, it might help to think of the conflict as a problem that needs to be solved. For example, in The Hunger Games, the conflict was the Hunger Games Event... the problem was that Katniss volunteered to compete which put her life at risk. So the solution to the problem was to survive the event.

3 - You know what the climax and ending are, but you are enjoying the characters and world and don't want the story to end. This is one I think many writers can relate to. It can be really hard to let go of a story when you've enjoyed writing it, have gotten attached to the characters, and feel comfortable/familiar with the world. It can also be a little scary to think about diving into a whole new story. But, we do have to learn to let go of stories when they're finished and let them come to their natural conclusion. You can always go back to the world and characters, even if just for yourself, later on. It wouldn't be weird to write "fan-fiction" of your own story, and many writers turn these kinds of stories into prequels, sequels, companion series, and companion short stories that their readers enjoy, too.

Here are some tips for getting excited about your story again if you just need your motivation rekindled:

Guide: How to Rekindle Your Motivation to Write 5 Reasons You Lost Interest in Your WIP, Plus Fixes! Getting Excited About Your Story Again Getting Unstuck: Motivation Beyond Mood Boards & Playlists Feeling Unmotivated with WIP

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

♦ Questions that violate my ask policies will be deleted! ♦ Please see my master list of top posts before asking | ♦ Learn more about WQA here

[quinndominion]

Still bad at tumblr...buried new pics behind 'read more' cut in a reblog...defeats the point of pictures!

Peni said:

(P.S., I'm pretty sure that's Mary, voted "Girl Most Likely to Pull a Cart" four years in a row in high school.)

Mary. Of course, it's Mary!

But you get all the cookies, or virtual sweets of your choosing, for making me delirious-laugh at that line. I've gotten plenty of sleep since and it still cracks me up. Maybe because she is high school age here. And with only two classmates she'd also be voting that for herself for it to stick, lol.

Doesn't surprise me that most sim stories aren't finished. When Life happens, and it will, this time-consuming hobby with no visible objective value will be one of the first things to go. It brings in no money(unless maybe you've got a decent Youtube following). And the emotional satisfaction of writing a story and of having someone read said story are, as you allude to, rather different things.

I spent a dozen years (more if you count TS1) telling myself stories with this game, with no interest or intention of sharing them. I loved that way of playing the game and at a story level there's no real qualitative difference as I am, basically, the same sims player and the same storyteller. I couldn't create my own poses then (a skill that's become both the best and the worst thing to happen to me as a simmer!) but I still made liberal use of poseboxes just as soon as they came on the scene, for pictures no one but me was ever going to see. And still it's such a different endeavour putting these things together for an audience, real or imagined.

But anyway, my point was that I'm not so sure it was always the case that most sim stores weren't finished. Maybe. I never read Exchange stories when the Exchange was around but I feel like a lot of the ones I read archived on that clockwatching site were completed. (Hope that site's still up. Been a few years since I checked...) And yeah, I guess, most of the old stories on LJ weren't really completed but a lot of them went on for years and years - with dozens or maybe even over a hundred chapters - so it didn't really feel like an abrupt, 'wait, wha' happened?' when reading them. And I think that's a function of community and engagement, which is ironic since sooo much more of the community is here on simblr, but it's not really designed for more than ephemeral engagement.

I was lucky in that even though I didn't finally join LJ until it was dying, there were still enough active simmers there that finding friends was way easier than 'accumulating' followers. (Find folks writing stories you like. Tell them why you like it. Easy peasy. Not so with tumblr which also operates on a kind of 'clout' since it's a kind of social media.) I've noticed the new Communities thing that's been rolled out (new to me) and even on those devoted to storytelling I still don't see much traction getting people to respond to words with words, which I suspect is the currency most writers most want.

Oh well, I'm just an old-head, ranting at time itself, wishing forums were a thing again.

End ramble. (But it's just wild to remember a world where a perfectly ordinary - but funny - sim story post might have 10 or 20 or 30 actual comments and responses whereas now getting 10 whole likes on a non-cc post means you're winning at simblr, lol.)

[benispunk]

The Concert

Iron dad and Spiderson

I've paid my dues Time after time

Tony mumbled the lyrics of the song playing while still focusing on his new project. Peter, sitting not so far away from Tony, lifted his head from his very much boring school paper he had to finish and smiled brigthly.

"That's one of my favorite !"

It was Tony's turn to move his head up and look at Peter.

"It's one of the best, but not my favorite though." he answered, returning back to his work.

I've done my sentence But committed no crime

"I didn't know you liked Queen."

"Why would I not?"

"I don't know. I just never heard it playing in your lab. I love it though." Peter's knee bopped on sync with the beat of the song.

Tony stopped for a second.

And bad mistakes I've made a few

"Are you sure I've never mentioned I like Queen?" Tony asked. Peter shrugged, tapping his pen on the desk.

"I mean, everybody does. But it just never occurred to me that you do too. You like your hard rock and metal better." Tony chuckled.

It's true that there wasn't enough Queen songs playing in his lab.

"Queen does a good job at that too. You should have seen them live, my god what an experience it was."

I've had my share of sand Kicked in my face

Peter whipped his head up so fast he thought he might have broken his neck.

"What did you just say?"

Homework now forgotten, his focus was on Tony and Tony only.

But I've come through

"Wait- the best part is coming, shut up."

As Tony started singing full heartedly the chorus Peter replayed his previous comment in his head.

You should have seen them live, my god what an experience it was

What does that mean.

"What does it mean?" Peter asked, still not quite sure he actually understood what his mentor said. He couldn’t possibly...

"That they're the champions it's kinda obvious Peter."

"NO. What do you mean when you say that I should have seen them live?!" Peter all but screamed. He wanted answers and he wanted them now.

That seems to get Tony's attention as he put down his tools - previously used as a microphone for his magnificent performance of the song.

"Peter, are you okay?" he asked and Peter's frustration only grew bigger.

"Do you mean to tell me you went to a Queen concert ?" he finally asked. Tony raised one eyebrow, confused.

"Uh- yeah?"

Peter's jaw fell open.

"WHAT."

Tony stared at a visibly shocked Peter Parker. "What?"

"WHAT?!" Peter repeated.

"FRI, is the kid okay there?" Tony asked, keeping an eye on Peter while checking his vitals on the screen next to him.

"Peter is fine, he seems to be experiencing shock after hearing about your experience at a Queen's concert." the AI answered as Tony huffed a laugh.

"Oh okay. Well, yeah I was 14 and on a trip to Paris with my mother. They were there too so we went to the concert and-"

Peter interrupted him, "Do not tell me you met them."

A silence fell in the room as Peter waited for a reply. He watched Tony who stood still.

"Why aren't you saying anything?"

"Well you just told me not to."

That made Peter lose it completely.

"Oh my- don't- is that real? Are you lying to me?"

"I didn't say anything." Tony put his hands up in the air, showing his innocence.

"Did you?"

"Say anything?"

"NO! Did you meet them?" Peter asked again.

"Yes." he answered bluntly.

Peter blinked. One. Two. Three times.

"And you were 14." Tony nodded.

"And on a random trip to Paris." the man added. At some point, Peter was completely disconnected from reality.

How was this supposed to be real? You think you know somebody and then, yeah I went to a Queen concert when I was on a trip to Paris and I actually met them.

What the hell. How the hell. Why the hell.

Tony, who still hadn't move from his position over on his stool, snapped his fingers a few times to wake Peter up from his "daydream" or whatever happened to him.

"Were you ever going to mention this?" Peter blurted out once he was back in this very, very, weird reality. Tony smiled, no- he smirked that bastard.

"If i started telling you all the things that I did and the people that i've met, we would never be done Peter."

This only made Peter groaned in frustration.

"There's worse ?" he asked, although he already knew the answer.

"I have George Lucas' phone number."

Nevermind. Whatever answer he thought he would get could have never been worse.

"FRIDAY I broke him, didn't I?" Tony asked his AI as he looked at the very much not-functioning Peter in front of him.

"It appears so."

'Cause we are the champions of the World

a/n: THANK YOU FOR READING!! This is such a messy story. Also I cannot imagine Tony Stark not listening to Queen- like...impossible. Big Queen Fan here. Also this is a reference to a post I made a few weeks (months?) back saying that I can't believe there are people in this world who went to a Queen concert. Peter's reaction is definitely inspired by how I would react- and it's not over dramatic, it's accurate. Can we say under dramatic? Because that's what it is. Anyway, thank you for the support on my last post, it means a lot. You guys gave me the energy to come back to writing. Don't hesitate to send requests, I could try doing some stuff!!! XX

[gouraminnow]

Not Even a Challenge

Ace & gn reader

Goofy drabble! Ace ends up crashing with reader and their roommates bc Striker needs repairs. They rope him into an eating contest so they can all win free food. No real romance just shenanigans ig? This gets away from me but I still had fun lol

Warnings: uh none. Not proofread or edited all that much ig? Ends kind of abruptly, keep messing up past/present tense lmao

-

Ace hadn't known you long at all, meeting you on a small island while exploring on his own. Striker had been damaged during a storm, and you and your two friends had let him crash at your place while he worked on the small ship. It was a little cramped, as he was intruding on what was already a roommate situation- but it didn't bother him. He was used to bunking with crewmates, after all. Taking a couch in the living room didn't phase the young man.

It wasn't a large town, but it was big enough. He helped out here and there, did odd jobs to afford supplies for striker and... food, once you and your buddies realized just how much he ate.

It was a lazy Saturday morning when he woke up, sprawled on the soft couch, gangly limbs tangled in the knit blanket you'd given him. He sits up to see you and your roommates whispering conspiratorially around the coffee pot, a hush falling over you all when you notice him looking. "Uh... whatcha whisperin' about over there?" He drawls, voice still groggy. You share mischievous looks with your friends, before sauntering up to the couch with a grin. You lean over the back of it, one arm folded on the cushions while the other shoves his hat onto his head.

"I am so glad you asked, Ace," you tell him, barely able to contain your glee. He lifts the brim of his hat, taking in the infectiously jubilant look on your face, that little twinkle in your eyes. "So. You... kinda eat a lot, and we don't have the biggest budget," you started. His brows furrowed- he was about to say something apologetic, but you held out your hand. "Ah ah ah! Lemme finish, I'm not mad!" You steeple your fingers together. "Charlie reminded us that there's a spot in town with a real... interesting meal deal. And we all agree you might just be the perfect man for it." Oh now he was interested.

"... Meal deal, huh?" He says, lazy grin pulling at the corners of his mouth. "What kinda deal are we talking?"

Charlie ran up behind you, throwing an arm around you tightly which earns a strange, strangled noise as you're awkwardly shoved against the back of the couch, no doubt feeling the wooden frame against your diaphragm. "Eating contest!" they shout, wearing a grin of their own. "There's a diner that has this thing- if you beat the last person's record, you and whoever you bring get to eat for free! You can pick a dish from the options provided and whatever drink you want! Last guy's record is 24 plates!"

Ace's eyes widened. He suddenly felt very awake, stretching his legs out and rolling forward onto his feet in one smooth motion. "And you JUST remembered?! What the fuck, that's just my kind of deal! If I didn't know better, I'd say y'all were holding out on me!"

You'd finally wriggled your way out of Charlie's grip, dramatically smacking a hand over your chest, "WHAT! We would NEVER! How could you even SUGGEST such a thing?!" you shouted, feigning hurt.

Imani makes her way to a now-standing Ace next, curly hair still in her satin sleeping bonnet. She handed him a mug of coffee. "Well, we're telling you now, aren't we? Think you can handle 25 plates of... well, whatever you order? The current record holder chose hashbrowns, I think," she mused, eyes crinkled with mirth.

"Where have you BEEN?" Charlie shouted before he could open his mouth. "Of course he can!"

"Of course I can!" Parroted Ace. "You dare question my abilities?!"

-

It isn't long before Ace finds himself in a popular brunch spot by a busy pier. It was a two-story building with some balcony seating, plain wood with some white siding. He didn't get to examine it all that much, because you had enthusiastically pulled him along by the hand- both of you flanked by Charlie and Imani. His three hosts practically buzzed in excitement, the idea of winning free food from their guest's gluttony too exciting to pass up. He couldn't deny his enthusiasm either, laughing as you yanked him after you.

The booth is comfy, he thought as he sank into the cushions. All of you huddled together over a menu, Charlie and Imani to his right and you to his left with his arm over your shoulders. Charlie was practically laying on Imani's back, face peaking over from the crook of her neck. "Okay, so the popular options for the challenge are hashbrowns, pancakes, and biscuits and gravy. I think eggs benedict is an option too..." You muse from under Ace's arm.

"Ooh..." He exclaims, brows rising. "D'you think I can pick more than one?" He asks, lifting the menu closer. "Or like, some bacon on the side, maybe..."

He doesn't miss the grins you and your friends shoot each other. "I don't think they'd refuse something that would make the challenge harder," Imani reasons, resting her face on her hand. "We can certainly ask."

"They always say you gotta foot the bill if you fail the challenge, but I like our odds," Charlie quips, hugging Imani a little tighter.

The server approached the table, brows raised at everyone's giggling. Ace cracks his knuckles with an almost sinister smile. "I could have us all eating for free for days. It's showtime, baby!"

-

"ACE! ACE! ACE! ACE! ACE!"

"C'mon man, you got this!"

"TEAR THOSE BISCUITS UP, DUDE!"

"Ten more plates! You're already more than half-way there!"

His new friends are cheering him on, and a decently sized crowd had formed around their table. He wasn't sure how long it had been. Twenty or so minutes, maybe? Imani had been right in that he had been allowed to add more to the challenge- the server saying it was their budget on the line with a smug look. The guy wasn't quite sweating yet, but Ace had time. The rest of the staff were an equal mix of troubled and giddy, taking detours on their ways to other tables to see if this ravenous stranger was still going.

And he was- burning through dense piles of biscuits and pancakes, greasy strips of bacon and even licking plates clean of sauce like it was nothing.

He was going strong, halfway through plate 21 (A massive stack of pancakes) when he started to feel it: the tell-tale wisps of drowsiness, the darkened corners of his vision... Fuck, he thinks, right before face planting right into his food.

Gasps sound out from the onlookers. Charlie swears. "Is- is he dead?" A waitress asks, voice thin and reedy.

"No, no, it's fine- he's fine he just does this sometimes!" You say, trying to placate the muttering crowd before turning to Ace, gently shaking his shoulder. "Hey man, c'mon- you gotta rally. C'mon man wake up, please! You're our meal ticket, get it together!" You whisper-shouted into the young man's ear.

He didn't stir. Shit. Shit, shit, shit- the four of you are getting close to time. He needs to win this, you believe in him, he's just gotta-

Ace shot upward, resuming his meal like nothing had happened, just as you and your friends knew he would.

"YES! RISE! RIIIISE!" Cries Charlie, pumping their fist in the air as the onlookers gasp. Ace doesn't waste any time on explanations or platitudes, instead doubling his efforts to finish his heaps of food. A few of the staff are staring in abject horror by now, but Ace slows for nothing.

Plate 21 is shoved to the side, and he starts on 22.

Then 23.

Then 24, the same number of the previous record holder, but he wasn't slowing down. Charlie and Imani have both started laughing incredulously, now, and you're cheering his name again.

He finishes 25- a platter of biscuits stacked on top of each other, and he reflexively reached for the next, nonexistent plate before he's startled by Charlie's jarring bellow of "FUCK YEEEEEAAAAAAAH!!!" followed by the rest of his little party all whooping and hollering like their lives depended on it. Ace joined in, of course- after a solid five second burp that had you laughing your ass off.

A shell-shocked waiter took the orders of you and your roommates, and once that's over... "And can I get the shakshouka and two of those little bacon quiches?" Ace pipes up again, hand raised politely. There was a beat of silence- your massive grin and the giddy, shocked faces of your friends all staring at him, before the waiter himself finally broke.

"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU?!"

-

You all ended up going back to that spot for the next three consecutive days- Ace eating just one more plate every time. The crowd grew as well, of course, creating an increasingly boisterous environment until finally, on the fourth day, Ace and his new friends arrive in front of the restaurant to find a crudely drawn portrait of him along with bold red letters that read "!!!BANNED!!!"

"... Aw," Ace muttered, shoulders slumping in disappointment. He had really started looking forward to those little quiches.

"What the hell? What a bunch of sore losers!" You exclaim, hands on your hips.

"I dunno... We have been bringing him here to repeatedly eat plate after plate for free," Charlie reasoned, and Imani nods along in agreement.

"We keep unleashing the beast upon them. It was bound to happen eventually," she shrugged breezily. "The best things in this world are the most fleeting."

You snort. "Okay Socrates. Where do we eat, then?"

"Do you think they'd let you bring me takeout..?" Ace piped up hopefully, looking back over his shoulder at you three before he turned back at the cartoon depiction of him with a huff. The way they drew him with a... pronounced stomach really made him look like Luffy. "... This better not end up on any on my wanted posters," he grumbled.

You end up buying him a quiche, opting to fill up properly on street food.

-

A month later, Ace has long since made it back to the Moby. He's found himself missing you all- part of him wishing you were the types for piracy... but you lot seemed pretty happy where you were.

"Aaaace~!" He hears the familiar voice of Thatch. "Hey hey, you've got a letter from someone!" Ace quirks a brow, turning from where he'd been leaning against the taffrail. "Er... someones, plural, actually. Three names on this!" The cook saunters over, handing over the large envelop with a grin.

"Is it..?" He takes it from his brother, looking at the names on the envelop. "Oh shit, it's them! Remember those three I told you about? The three I crashed with back when Striker broke down?"

Thatch settles next to him, leaning his back against the rail, legs crossed as he looks over the younger man's shoulder. "Ohoh. The food scheme trio?" He asks, leaning in closer as Ace tears open his mail.

"Eyup," He confirms, fishing the contents out. The first picture is of a small black kitten- fast asleep on a plate of pasta. On the white borders of the printing paper, he reads: We named her after you! It's like you never left!

"Awww," Thatch coos, and Ace can practically hear the taller man's teasing grin, even if he isn't facing him. He... almost feels choked up, but he reigns himself in. It is a cute cat, though... ignoring his brother, he pulls the picture away, shuffling it behind the others. The second picture is of you, lifting cat Ace by the scruff as her little front paws desperately wrap around a half-eaten burrito, face buried in the open end. Your mouth is open, eyes wide in incredulity, probably in the middle of playfully scolding the tiny beast. Him and Thatch chuckle over the picture, Ace moving onto the third- a picture of the kitten cradled in Imani's manicured hands, little eyes contentedly shut with a little orange hat perched on top of her tiny head. "Oh my god, Ace!" Thatch cries, snatching the photograph out of his hands. "That's absolutely adorable, look at the little-" he's cut short when the fourth picture is revealed to them both.

A copy of the crudely drawn "!!!BANNED!!!" poster the diner had put up.

Ace sputters, and Thatch wheezes with laughter, snatching the drawing up too before Ace can react. "H-HEY!" He shouts, but the Chef has already bounded away, calling for the attention of the others. "HEY, GIVE THAT BACK, YOU ASS!" He shouts, rushing after his brother.

"Why don't you make me?" He taunts, holding the questionable rendition of his likeness just out of the shorter man's reach. "Aw, are you mad? What's wrong? I just wanna show the family this stunning portrait of our beloved baby brother!" Ace redoubles his efforts to jump for it, memories of doing the same thing to Luffy as kids flashing through his mind- before he got the hang of his rubber powers, of course.

"IT LOOKS NOTHING LIKE ME!" Ace yells, leaping upward, hand outstretched-

-and Vista swipes it from Thatch's hand instead, laughing heartily. "The hat and the tattoo beg to differ," he points out before handing it off to Izou, who just smirks- quirking an immaculately plucked brow as he glances between the drawing and Ace's real-life grimace.

"What a flattering picture," he teases. "They even got your freckles."

"Oh, come ON!" Ace practically whines, lunging for Izou who just steps out of the way. He steadies himself, turning to see that Marco has it now. Damned bird. "Marco." He says sternly, reaching a hand out as his body literally begins smoking. "Give me that, damnit."

"What's the problem?" He asks, lazily grinning. "I think it's a wonderful picture. Are you sure Luffy's the one with the rubber-rubber fruit?" He asks, no doubt referring to the massive, caricature-ish belly he's been drawn with.

"Shut UUUP," he groans, yanking his hat down over his face- growing redder at the playful teasing of his brothers. It all devolves into a massive game of keep-away, his siblings passing it around while running interference. He has just broken free from Thatch's headlock when he spots Banshee's sly, half-lidded smirk as she hands it off to a giggling nurse. His stomach drops. "NO!" He cries, lunging once again with an outstretched hand- only to be tackled full force by a cackling Haruta. "Get offa me, you shit!"

"Hell no! Where's the fun in that?!" He shoots back, gangly arms shoving Ace's face against the hardwood floor, wrenching a grunt from him. His own arm shoots behind him, yanking a fistful of Haruta's hair- but then he hears it.

Oyaji's distinct, booming laughter, all the way from his cabin. He lets go, slumping face down against the deck with a groan. It's over. Damn you, damn Charlie, Damn Imani- and damn his wretched siblings. Haruta slides off of his back with a snicker, rubbing his head where Ace had yanked his hair. "Don't be a sore loser, Ace," he quips, only to immediately end up in a headlock.

When all is said and done, he keeps the pictures of cat Ace- the others teasing him about when he'll take them to meet his niece. And that sea-forsaken poster? Thatch has it framed and hung up in the Galley.

[ghouljams]

I've just finished work so this might be rambley sorry but your thoughts and the discussion around oral is really really fascinating, both in how our experiences differ and overlap. If you don't want or don't have the energy to respond to this that's all good! I just wanted to share. For some context, I'm a late 20s, non American, bisexual afab that is gender non conforming to the point where I've been called he, she, they, it, and have never quite figured out if I'm cis or trans.

Openly out/non stealth trans or nb people weren't seen or known about in my home town, so here I'm gonna say man and woman rather than amab or afab cause I think it'll convey the experiences and attitude around me growing up better. People were also homophobic so these next two paragraphs aren't nice. However, they are not beliefs or opinions that I hold today.

Growing up, it was seen as normal for a woman to blow a man even if the woman didn't like it, it was expected because That's How Sex Works. Woman blows man, man has sex with woman. Men who went down on woman were considered weird, because ew vaginas are nasty and it doesn't do anything to contribute to How Sex Works. For a man, fingering or having sex with a woman was something to be proud of having done. I don't think bisexuals really existed, you were gay or straight and ooh boy there were Opinions on what they did. Like lesbians were all butch and hairy so it was gross that they went down on each other. Gay men were weird for blowing each other but more weird and more unmanly for actually blowing another man.

And then I figured out I like women in my mid/late teens, and thought I was a lesbian for a long time because of the good old childhood trauma and not wanting to participate in sex with men because blowing a man is How Sex Works and that's a trigger for me. And I became very confused as to why I was meant to think vaginas are gross because I had one, it isn't gross or weird, so why would eating pussy be gross or weird? Unfortunately, still being in my smallish town and being the only woman with a men's haircut under the age of 50, I became the weird looking baby butch lesbian that's obviously gross because she must eat gross butch lesbian pussy. I was *16*.

Then I moved to a larger city and I unlearned some things and learned others, and we move into 2018-today, where I'm happily bisexual. I've dated men, women, nb people. I've received and given oral to all three, and dated straight and bi men, and bi and lesbian women. And I think this is where our experiences overlap a bit. The penis=bad, vagina=good ergo people attracted to penis=bad is very prominent among lesbians, forget the penis belonging to a transwoman, if I left a lesbian then dated a cis man or they knew I had had sex that involved penises, I was considered unclean and less than them. Obviously not all lesbians are like this, but wow is there a stigma against bisexual women just because they're attracted to men who are statistically likely to be amab. There's a weird attitude among some lesbians around trans guys and bi women dating too but that's another kettle of fish.

There is definitely an attitude of I want to feel good but don't want to put the effort in to making a partner feel good spread pretty evenly across the genders and sexualities in my experiences. Some treat it as an obligation to give, some will freely give but if you don't react enough or come easily they stop bothering pretty easily (something about as the receiver, performing enough gratitude/enjoyment/making it worth the other person's while? If you're not going to actively enjoy it or even orgasm, why should I bother?). I'm currently dating the only person to straight up ask if they can go down on me for their own fun and that's a bisexual cis man (and the love of my life). Most lgbt people around me have the attitude of "we reciprocate oral in this house" and I don't know that many straight people in my age group well enough to get their opinions, but I found out that there's a deliberate name for people that eat pussy. Got asked if I was a munch, felt ridiculous tbh, as though I was being asked if I was a missionary position.

The oh its unfortunate I'm attracted to men attitude from bisexual women, fuck is that prevalent. I have a colleague getting engaged to a man who is like that. I HATE it. My partner is a man and I love him because he's him and because he's a man I therefore love that he's a man. I've also gotten over my fears and blow him, can confirm it's not gross at all. I don't know if I've ever seen the equivalent amongst bisexual men. Regarding penis=gross or tasting bad, I think some of that collective thought comes from being aware of how poor some men's hygiene is, or how openly unhygienic some are, and the idea of putting your mouth and taste buds on it isn't appealing. Same goes for women, but that idea of vagina=good overrides the truth that for every unhygienic man there is as many unhygienic women.

I think I've covered everything that was percolating in my brain, sorry this is so long it's been a mess of a day and my brain is now soup. Like I said above, no pressure to do anything with this, and please don't think I'm homophobic or transphobic, I just wanted to try convey attitudes around me from a smallish town in 2000-2018

I'm going to put my thoughts under the cut just to keep this post moderately sustainable in length lol

I think you perfectly encapsulated the cultural shift in perceptions of oral sex in your ask. The 2000s-2010s were DOMINATED by the idea that women go down on men and men don't go down on women. There was this undercurrent of emasculation to it, that going down on a woman somehow made you less of a man. I think this also was partially a backlash to the free-love movement in the 70s and even the second wave feminist movement in the 80s because this is also when we see a cultural rise in expectations of shaving among women. And I'm so glad you brought up "hairy butches" because the rise of low-rise jeans in the early 2000s really made body hair taboo.

Suddenly women's bodies become commodified but also absolutely sanitized of anything that makes them human. Of course you don't have to go down on your girlfriend, she's pretty much a blow-up doll in the early 00s. We see this really strange (at least in post 9/11 USA) cultural shift towards women being utterly sexless but also complete whores. There's this fascination with shows like "teen mom" and "16 and pregnant" but at the same time this increasingly widespread cult of purity. Purity rings become popular, abstinence only education is on the rise, teens are allegedly having more sex than ever but no one is telling them anything about it. EVERY GOD DAMN TEEN FOCUSED SHOW INCLUDES A PREGNANCY SUB-PLOT.

Getting off track sorry.

So... women aren't supposed to enjoy sex but they are supposed to be having it, but they also aren't supposed to be having it. You're meant to be the Madonna and the whore. We start seeing jokes about "anal doesn't break your virginity" you know what else doesn't ruin your virginity? Oral. So you can give head as a woman, but only with a man(because icky gross vaginas) and you can't receive head because you're culturally not supposed to enjoy sex or you're a whore.

Which all kicks back in the current sex positivity movement as a huge misunderstanding of the what/why that led to 2000s sex weird-ness and becomes penis=bad vagina=good. This is just blatant transphobia disguised as progressive values tbh, and I'm not going to get into that, but that's what it is.

So now we have this massive reactionary response to early 2000s sexuality. Sucking dick is demeaning because you don't have to do it anymore, men are gross anyway! Anal sex is in but only if you're gay, because being gay is ok now! Cunnilingus is the only acceptable form of oral because women have been denied it for so long (but only from men, we still think lesbians are kind of icky)! Shaving your pubic hair is demeaning because you don't have to do it anymore to be considered attractive (and in fact it's pedophilic for you to enjoy shaving despite being an adult making your own choices about your body)!

Honestly I just want to grab the people I've heard discussing sex like this by the shoulders and ask if they hear themselves, and if they do how do they not understand what they're saying??

There's also STILL this overwhelming culture around virginity!!!! WHO GIVE A SHIT??? Have sex or don't you're not some weird pariah just because you're an x year old virgin, you're just a person RAHHHH

ALSO on the whole Munch thing: munch is an actual kink term for people who derive sexual pleasure from oral sex, as in "This person will come in their pants eating you out." And it's so wild to me that people are using it to mean "you eat out" like yeah but I'm not shooting my load doing it, y'know? I enjoy it but more because I'm bringing my partner pleasure than anything else.

Ok going back to the penis=bad we hate men thing. As a fellow man loving queer yeah it fucking sucks. I love my man, he's great, he's sexy as hell. Fuck, I love dick. And not to get into "Ghoul's problematic identities" but I am a lesbian dating a man, now I do tell people I'm bi these days but I identified as a lesbian for YEARS before I met Mr. Ghoul, and the only reason I even went on a date with him is because my therapist was like "You can't keep letting your trauma dictate your sexuality" like ok go off queen I met the love of my life because of you. BUT The amount of "gold star" lesbians is absolutely appalling. Congrats to you women who have always known you were gay and managed to avoid interacting with men in that way but most people have a little bit of a journey associated with their sexuality and that often includes sex with different people. (Also the way this immediately excludes transwomen from the conversation of lesbianism...)

There is so much hatred around loving men within the gay and straight community, and I don't think it's just a "men need better hygiene" issue, I think it is very much a backlash to the way women were treated in the early 2000s and some hurt feelings that Millennials and Gen Z are still holding onto. In my observation of it I see it very much as an attempt at what was previously called "political lesbianism" that has not actually progressed as far as it did in the 80s because there's still this stigma around lesbianism in straight women. It is, as always, a misunderstanding of how equality works because people have only ever seen things one way. Instead of placing giving head on equal footing for everyone we've gone the opposite direction and flipped from sucking dick is the only thing that happens to eating pussy is the only thing that happens.

There's still too many people seeing sex as something with an implicit power dynamic. People with a penis hold the power, people with vaginas just lay there. Which is just a blatant misunderstanding of what sex is about, but it's easier for people to break things down into easily digestible pieces instead of idk examining why they think(want) the dick to have the power? Like does sex have an implicit power dynamic or do you have a D/s kink?

I'm getting rambly and I don't think I've actually talked about anything, sorry, but I just had so many thoughts reading your ask and I think you phrased everything really well. Really brought a lot of things from the 2000s rushing back to me lol

[jessybarnes]

All Of Me

Fandom: Marvel - Moon Knight

Pairing: Steven Grant x Reader / Marc Spector Reader / Moon Knight x Reader / Khonshu x Reader (Platonic)

Rating: 18+ Only!! Minors DNI!!

Tags: Angst, fluff, smut, monsters, injury, blood, crying, guns, fingering (female receiving), light restraint, wall sex, p in v, unprotected sex, explicit sexual content, explicit language, and I think that's it.

Word Count: 3,177

Beta(s): Just Grammarly and me

Written For:

@anyfandomaubingo - O4: Historical AU

@anyfandomangstbingo - I2: "Put. The. Weapon. Down."

@anyfandomdarkbingo - I4: Kindly Restrained

@anyfandomfluffbingo - N4: "This is where I saw you for the first time."

@badthingshappenbingo - O5: "Who did this to you?"

@thebo3bingo - G3: Vulnerability

@mfbingo - O5: Sharing Is Caring

@fandoms-writings - Remi's Neon Milestone Party: See writing prompts I used as a bonus below 🥰

Prompt(s): Used: "You shouldn't be out here by yourself." / "Let me kiss it better." / "What if someone hears us?"

Title Card: Yours Truly

You sigh as you check your phone for probably the thousandth time in the last ten minutes. Today is your one year anniversary with Steven, and you're supposed to be meeting him for a romantic indoor picnic at the museum where you met him. His plan was to let you in after he finished closing up the night.

Except he's late. He's never late.

You pull his contact info up and hit the call button, hoping he'll answer. It rings four times before going to voice-mail and that only makes the gnawing feeling in your gut worsen. His car's still here and it's well past the time his shift ended.

Deciding it's been long enough, you walk up the stairs and try the door. It opens and your brows furrow. It should have been locked from the outside over an hour ago. Slipping quietly inside, you adjust your purse on your shoulder and walk into the main exhibit area.

You've been in here before plenty of times, but the atmosphere is much different at night time. It's dark except for the small lights illuminating each of the exhibits and it casts a dim glow around them, their shadows appearing on the walls. It's almost...eerie.

"Steven?" You call. Your heels click on the tile floor as you glance around the room. "Steven, this isn't funny! You were supposed to meet me an hour ago!"

There's a noise in the distance behind you and you whirl around quickly. Fear creeps up your spine and the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.

"Steven, if you don't get out here right now I'm leaving!"

"You shouldn't be out here by yourself. It's dangerous."

You jump at the sudden voice behind you and quickly turn to see your boyfriend. Only he isn't smiling that goofy smile you fell in love with, and now that your brain has processed his statement, that's not his voice either.

"Steven? What the fuck is going on? What do you mean it's dangerous?"

He cocks his head and narrows his eyes, "I'm not Steven, and you need to keep your voice down or it might hear you."

You stare up at him, waiting for the part where he tells you he's joking, but it never comes. He's serious and you aren't sure if you're more fed up or scared at this point.

"Fine. If you didn't want to have our date then all you needed to do was say so. I'm not sure what this is," you gesture to him as you start to back away, "but I've had enough. I'm leaving."

You turn and walk back towards the entrance, but as soon as you get back to the lobby a low growl sounds to your right. Slowly turning, you see a monster that reminds you of something from a horror movie.

This can't be happening... this is a dream. You've fallen asleep outside on the museum steps and you're dreaming. There's no other explanation to what you're seeing right now.

Slowly, you begin to back up as it creeps towards you. Its long claws scrape against the floor as it bares its sharp teeth at you. Your back hits the wall and your breathing gets quicker as you realize you've got nowhere to go. You're cornered.

It lunges and you let out a high-pitched scream as you press yourself as far into the wall as you can. It all happens in a matter of seconds. The swish of a cape, the snarling of the beast, and the searing pain of one of its claws slicing your arm.

"Ah! Oh, my god! What the fuck?!"

"Get to the bathroom right now and barricade yourself in. Don't open the door for anyone but me, do you understand?"

You don't even answer him as you bolt for the back of the room. Even though your heels make it difficult to run, you manage to get inside and slam the door shut. Taking a second to catch your breath, you grab the bench and prop it up against the door before backing up against the far wall.

Your arm is cut, your hands are shaking, and you're not sure when you started crying. Carefully, you clean your wound and manage to stop the bleeding. It's then that you notice how quiet it is. There's no sound of a struggle or the deep growls of whatever the fuck that thing was, and you can only pray that it's gone.

The sound of the door handle jiggling startles you, and your heart begins to race again. Reaching into your purse, you pull out your handgun and cock it before pointing it at the door.

"It's me, let me in."

There's that voice again...

Steven doesn't have an American accent. His voice is soft and kind, not rough and deep.

"Yeah, no, I'm good thanks. You can leave and I'll see myself out once you're gone."

You hear him sigh.

"Listen, I know you're scared, but I need to look at your arm."

You're silent as you contemplate your options. He looks like your boyfriend, and he did save you, so maybe you should hear him out.

You keep your gun aimed true as you move the bench back to where it was before stepping back.

"Fine, but don't even think about trying anything funny."

You move back against the far wall again as he opens the door. Your hands shake as you keep your gun pointed at him, your cheeks still wet from crying.

"That's far enough. Don't come any closer!"

He puts his hands up, looking between you and the barrel as he inches towards you.

"There's no need for that, Y/N. The threats gone now. I won't hurt you."

Your heart begins to race faster, "h-how do you know my name?!"

Even though the person standing before you looks like your boyfriend, he's literally the exact opposite of how Steven would act. And now that you've witnessed that terrifying monsters can exist, you're not entirely convinced that this man isn't some form of demon or doppelganger.

He stops, closed his eyes for a moment, and when he opens them again they're those soft, loving eyes you fell in love with just over a year ago.

"Y/N, please...I promise I'll explain, but you need to let Marc look at your arm. I'm so sorry this happened on our anniversary. God, I feel just awful."

The grip on your gun loosens, but you don't lower it, "Steven? Baby, please just talk to me now. What's going on? Who did this to you?"

He gives you a sympathetic look before tensing back up, his eyes squeezing shut. When they open back up, Marc has taken over again, his stare hard and determined.

"Come on, Y/N. Cooperate with me here. I'm not going to hurt you, but I have to look at your arm."

"I-I don't..." Your voice shakes as you try to make everything make logical sense.

"Dammit, would you just listen?! Put. The. Weapon. Down."

The seriousness in his tone makes you wince, but you let the gun fall to the floor anyway. He steps forward, kicking it to the side as he slowly approaches you as if you're a wounded animal.

"I'm going to touch you now."

His words held no sexual intention behind them, so why did they make you squeeze your thighs together?

He's careful as he extends your arm. His calloused fingertips graze your skin as he inspects where the jackal-like creature attacked you. Finally, his eyes gaze into your own, but his hands stay where they are.

"Good. It's not too deep, and the bleeding stopped. It'll scar, but you won't need stitches."

The tension crackles between the two of you like static electricity, the negligent space separating you seeming to get smaller by the second. Any response you had is forgotten as your lips part and your eyes flit down to his mouth.

"Let me kiss it better." His voice is husky as he presses you gently against the wall, one hand still on your injured arm while the other rests on your cheek.

You want him to. God, did you want him to close the distance and kiss you, but the rational part of your brain keeps you grounded. Your tongue comes out to wet your lips anyway though, and the hitch in your voice proves Marc is having an effect on you.

"Marc, I... I'm with Steven..."

"We're one and the same, sweetheart. Though we have different personalities, we share the same body."

He moves himself against you, and you can feel the outline of his cock against your lower belly.

"And not to mention, Steven's had this beautiful body all to himself. Won't you share, baby? I know what you crave," his thumb brushes across your bottom lip, "I know what you need. Let me give it to you, Y/N."

"Let me talk to Steven." Your voice is breathy, and even though Marc has a point, you still wouldn't feel right about it without at least talking to the man you've loved for so long.

Reluctantly, Marc drops his hands to his sides and closes his eyes. When they open again, they look relieved.

"Oh, Y/N! Oh, my sweetheart..."

He wraps his arms around you and pulls you against him, his face buried in the juncture of where your shoulder meets your neck. His accent comforts you like a blanket, but even if it wasn't there, you knew by the softness radiating off of him that this was Steven. Your hands tangled in his hair as he kisses your cheek.

"I'm so glad you're okay. I was so worried something had happened, that the monster or Marc had done something and..."

He stops, noticing your hesitation, and pulls back to look into your eyes, "What is it? He's said something to you, hasn't he?"

You sigh and hold his hands in yours, looking down at them briefly before wetting your lips.

"This is where I saw you for the first time." You thoughtfully recall the day you two first met. Steven's personality and love of ancient artifacts are what drew you to him. Like a moth to a flame, you were instantly captivated by him, and from there your love blossomed into what it is today.

He tilts his head to side slightly as his brows furrow in worry.

"Darling, whatever he's told you l-"

"He wants you to share me."

His eyes go wide, "Oh."

You play with his fingers, a nervous habit of yours.

"I asked him to let me talk to you."

Steven stays silent for a moment, letting the words sink in. He didn't even have the idea on his radar that his other personality would want you, but then he shook the thought away as quickly as it came because why wouldn't Marc want you?

His sweet, brilliant girl who has the prettiest eyes and the most contagious laugh. The brave woman who would move mountains to protect any living being in trouble, and not to mention how gorgeous you are to him.

He knows you have fantasies. Ones that he's not comfortable enough to fulfill, but maybe...maybe Marc could, and that's his deciding factor. He's always wanted to give you everything you wanted, and if this is something you want, then he won't stop you.

"Y/N, look at me, sweetheart."

You bite your lip, glancing into his eyes to try and guess what he's thinking.

His hand cups your cheek gently, "do you want this? Do you want Marc?"

You shake your head, "not at the risk of losing you. I love you, Steven."

He leans in and kisses your lips softly, bumping his nose against yours lovingly.

"And I love you, but I also know that there are things you want that I can't give you. You're not going to lose me, okay? Think of Marc as another side of me that you can spend time with from time to time."

Before you can make sure he's absolutely certain about this, he steps back and closes his eyes again, only this time something new happens. Grey and off-white surround his body and when he opens his eyes they're a brilliant white.

You gasp and slowly back up until you hit the wall, "S-Steven? Steven?!"

"Don't be afraid, Y/N. I won't hurt you."

Your heart pounds in your chest as you hear Marc's voice again. Your eyes trail over the suit he's wearing. It reminds you of Egyptian clothing and the crescent moon emblem makes you want to reach out and touch it.

"Marc?" you whisper as he slowly closes the distance between the two of you again.

"I want you to see all of me. This is who I am. Moon Knight is a part of Steven and I too."

You reach out to tentatively touch his chest just as his gloved hand slides up your inner thigh. His fingertips brush against your panties making you gasp.

"I meant what I said before, Y/N. I know what you crave. Everything that you tell Steven, I hear too, and I can give you what you want."

He taps his fingers against your panty-covered clit lightly, and you can't help the moan that falls past your lips. "What if someone hears us?"

He chuckles, "baby, it's nearly midnight. We're the only ones here."

The last of your resolve disappears when the suit's mask dissolves away revealing his face. You kiss him fiercely and he lets out a low growl as he pulls your panties to the side.

"You're soaked, princess," he mumbles against your lips before pinning your hands above your head with his free hand. "Gotta keep you still."

You whine at his authoritative tone, but before you're able to say anything, he plunges two fingers inside of you.

"O-Oh, fuck!"

"Yeah? You want another one, Y/N? Think you can take three?"

Your eyes roll back in pleasure as you nod and another moan is ripped from you as he pushes a third finger alongside the other two, pumping them fast.

"You're close already, I can feel it. My pretty, little Moonbeam's gonna cum isn't she?"

"Oh, god! Marc, I-I'm-"

He kisses you hard right as your orgasm crashes through you, swallowing your moans.

"Good girl, baby. Can't wait to feel this tight, little cunt around my cock."

Marc pulls away and you sag against the wall, panting softly. Never in your life have you cum that hard before, or that quickly. The soft fabric of his gloves felt insanely good, and you found yourself wanting to feel them again.

"Please...," you beg, and he silences you with another kiss before picking you up and holding you against the wall. Your legs wrap around his waist as he frees his cock from the confines of his suit.

"Mine," he growls as he pushes himself inside you to the hilt. Both of you groan in unison as he holds you up with ease.

Marc fucks you hard, his thick cock stretching you as his hand still holds your wrists above your head.

"Fuck, you feel incredible...My precious Moonbeam was made just for me. Weren't you, baby?"

"Yes! Oh, Marc...please don't stop, please!"

A groan rumbles in his chest, low and primal, as he sucks love bites into your neck.

"Gotta make sure everyone knows who you belong to. Gonna litter your pretty skin with marks, baby girl."

You clench around him, feeling the familiar heat pooling low in your belly. The way he's talking to you, his confidence and possessiveness, and the way his cock hits your spot on every pass makes your head spin. You know you won't last like this, and the moment Marc reaches in between your bodies to rub tight, fast circles on your clit, you feel yourself teetering on the edge of bliss.

"That's right, Moonbeam. Cum. Cum all over my dick. Fuck, I can feel you squeezin' me. Come on, baby girl, let go for me."

His words send you falling over the edge, your lips moving against his with little finesse as you pant wetly against them. Marc grunts as his orgasm follows yours, thick ropes of his cum filling you.

The two of you stay like that for a moment before he sets you down on shaky legs. You fix your clothes and once Marc is finished getting dressed you smile softly at him as you lean in to kiss him again.

Just before your lips touch, the lights start to flicker and the walls begin to shake making you cling tightly to him.

"Marc! What's going on?! What's-"

"So, this is who you've chosen to distract yourself with, Spector." A deep, booming voice echoes throughout the room, but you don't see anything.

"Who said that?!" You bury your face in his chest, terrified something else might try to kill you today.

The shaking stops and Marc pulls you slightly back so he can look at you.

"Wait, you can hear him too?! Are you an avatar?"

"An avatar? Marc, what are you ta-" Suddenly, your eyes go wide as an enormous being appears in the doorway. It has to be at least eight feet tall, a bird skull is where its head should be, and it's holding a staff with what appears to be a crescent moon at the top.

You scream and look around for your gun, but Marc stops you.

"Whoa, hey, hey, it's alright. He's with me, Y/N. He's with us."

He turns around and positions himself in front of you anyway though, a deep scowl etched on his face, "What do you want, Khonshu?"

"You think because you helped me with one thing that I'm done with you? Don't forget who saved you, Marc. You're still indebted to me."

"We had a deal!", Marc growls.

"I'm aware, but we've still got work to do," Khonshu tilts his head so he can look at you, "and she's going to help us."

Your eyes widen, "me?! But I-"

"No! Absolutely not," Marc cuts you off as he steps towards him, "I'll help you, but she stays out of it. Don't involve her in this."

Khonshu chuckles deeply, "She doesn't have a choice."

"Like hell, she doesn't!"

"What do you mean, I don't have a choice?" You ask before stepping out from behind Marc. "What's going on?"

The bird-like being looks down at you, and you try not to be intimidated by how daunting he is.

"Do you have knowledge of Ammit?"

"Ammit? The devourer of souls?" You whisper. "But that's just a...a myth...right?

"Ah, it seems you're more competent than I thought. Good, you'll be of use quicker than I'd imagined."

Marc's voice cuts into your conversation before you can ask more questions, and you don't miss the hint of dread in it.

"Harrow's back, isn't he?"

Khonshu nods. "Yes, and he intends to unleash Ammit on the world." He pauses before pointing his staff towards you.

"And she's the key to stopping him."

[unusuallysweetaki]

Real Quick Yap Session About Everett and His Relationships

So starting off I want to give all the credit to my friend Ayumu on Discord for most if not all of this post. She studies how people's brains work and made me think super deeply about the XOD boy's actions and such. In short this post and my realization wouldn't be happening without her.

Also want to mention that some of this is head canon and not confirmed by GB Patch, but A LOT of it is SPOILERS, so beware!

Now let's get into it!

Everett's Dad:

Everett's relationship with his dad isn't super apparent if you don't date him, in fact I don't even think he mentions his father without you dating him. I do remember a group meeting where the Jerks talked about their relationships with their families, but I can't remember Everett making any comment about his dad (only the mama boy stuff pls feel free to correct me if I'm wrong). Ofc if you end up doing his route, he mentions it. Though not much and not in detail.

I believe it's the Love Tunnel date where we get a little more of Everett's perspective of his father. All he really says though is that his father is an asshole. So at the very least we know he doesn't like him.

Luckily tumblr exists and Gb Patch was not shy about sharing answers to the many questions we have about the boys and how Everett's dad was at parenting was answered!

So Everett's dad is not emotionally present. Explaining why Everett gives all the genuine affection to his mom or Nate. His mom is very clearly the more affectionate of the pair and reciprocates Everett's love, as a mom should. And Nate has been Everett's friend since forever.

Even though Eve doesn't mention his father often, him being distant still impacted him to a pretty great extent in my opinion. Based on the people Everett chooses to show genuine interest in. Consciously or Unconsciously, forming a bit of an unhealthy attachment style.

Nate Lawson:

How Nate and Eve's relationship actually started is basically only told through dating Nate and going through his Fuchsia dates. Luckily, I'm on a speed run of all the guys routes and just finished Nate's so the conversations are still fresh in my mind.

In short Everett and Nate weren't really friends until Everett wore Nate down enough to where Nate basically had no choice but to accept Everett's presence.

Nate is very emotionally driven, unlike Mr. Gray. Despite being basically the only jerk you can date that shows actual, genuine emotions, he's terrified of intimacy. Even though he is considered popular by the school, he doesn't seem to have many friends (hence why he's in the Jerk Squad in the first place) because he rarely let's anybody into his life. I'd argue even his parents aren't included.

So how does all this relate to Mr. Gray and Everett's attachment style? Well here's where the trend starts. Everett deliberately hung around a guy that didn't seem to actually want him around. He did it long enough and relentlessly enough for Nate Lawson to give up.

I'm sure not even Everett realized this, hell this might not even be on purpose, considering how the game doesn't really touch the topic outside of some dates, but if you think on it a little more, how do you think kids would act when they want their emotionally distant parents attention? Making a scene is one and following them around constantly is another.

Now this is where we jump into a bit of head canon. We don't know how Everett acted with his father when he was smaller. For all we know he could've completely ignored his dad and only focused on his mom for the majority of his childhood, since she was the only one actually showing him affection.

Taking the ask into account though, it sounds like Lauren and Eve had tried at some point to spend time with their father, but he just never saw the point in it, so they gave up.

Pran Taylor:

Pran is different from Nate and Mr. Gray ofc because Eve had a more romantic interest in him. But still Everett's way of trying to get close to someone again is essentially following them around constantly until they accept his presence.

Considering Pran didn't seem too miffed about it, things probably would've worked out if not for Jeremy. If Nate gave in there's no doubt Eve would've been able to ware Pran down too lol.

The end!

TL;DR

Everett's way of getting into people's lives is by following them around until they accept his friendship, and I find that a little sad considering what that could imply little kid Everett thought he had to do to get his fathers attention. I think this being something he unconsciously does because of childhood is just such an interesting idea to me.

The talk me and my friend had really made me think about how much attention Everett needs just to function. Calling his mom constantly, staying popular, dating around. It just adds this extra angst to him that I can relate to.

If you made it to this point, thank you! Feel free to tell me what you think, I love having deep discussions like these! And I love talking about the Issue's Jerk Squad!

[xirayn]

A continuation of the merEddie AU based on the amazing art done by @maikaartwork. The ficlet for the kiss they drew is coming, Steve just needs to get some help first.

This is the first year Dustin is old enough to be a summer intern at Hawkins Aquarium and Institute of Marine Research. He spends his days educating guests on the animals and conservation efforts with weekly professional development and environmental advocacy courses. The position is also paid, which is nice, and he gets the aquarium practically to himself as he waits for Steve to finish up and give him a ride home.

He's watching the eastern rat snake climb her fake branch in search of a resting spot when Steve finds him an hour before he is usually done.

"I need to get into the restricted area of the aquarium," Steve states much to Dustin's surprise.

"Why?"

"The voice in my head needs help."

Dustin's eyes narrow. "Have you been talking to the lampreys again?"

"Yes, but they have nothing to do with this," Steve responds with an annoyed huff. Dustin is unconvinced.

"I think they might," he states plainly. "When was the last time you went on a date or talked with, I don't know, an actual human rather than a bunch of fish?"

"I talk to Robin all the time."

"Yet you won't date her."

"Boys and girls can be friends without -" Steve cuts himself off mid sentence. He sets his hands sternly on his hips. "You know what, this is getting us off-topic. Restricted area. Voice in my head. Plan. Go."

Dustin rolls his eyes. "That voice is called conscious thought, Steve."

"Ha ha. No. This was... something else. There is something - someone - who is hurt and alone, and I need to get them out."

"So we aren't just getting into the restricted area," Dustin observes, "we are getting whatever creature you think is calling you out?"

Steve hesitates for only a moment. That does sound pretty outlandish, but the call for help is still echoing in his mind. "Essentially. Yeah."

Dustin tilts his head in consideration. "How big is it?"

"What?"

"The creature," Dustin clarifies, "how big is it?"

"I don't know."

"Is it a siren trying to lure you onto the rocks or eat you?" An obvious question to Dustin, but a new one to Steve based on his look of surprise.

"A what? No. It doesn't want to eat me."

Sirens don't exist, for one. Except they might since there is something psychically communicating with Steve and they've run into things that supposedly didn't exist before.

"How do you know?" Dustin asks because if sirens do exist, it is a perfectly valid question.

"Because I felt it!" Steve throws his hands up. The snakes and other reptiles in the exhibits around them are as indifferent to the gesture as Dustin is. "It just needs help."

"Angler fish lure their prey in with a light on their-"

"I'm not prey!" Steve insists.

"Prey doesn't always know it's prey," Dustin counters.

"Then I get eaten, I guess, but I can't just ignore this. What they shared with me…" The mounting irritation drains from Steve's shoulder. Sorrow replaces it as he remembers the pain of captivity he was shown and the longing for home. "They just want to be free."

Dustin folds his arms across his chest. "That could, arguably, be a really bad idea."

Freeing non-native creatures was never a good idea. There was a whole workshop on invasive species that included how animals in captivity might suffer if released without the proper skills to survive. Media was also full of good intentions leading to the release of monsters.

"Which is why I came to the king of bad ideas," Steve says far too casually.

"Are you insulting me?" Dustin scoffs. "You're asking for my help and then insulting me. Seriously?"

"Do I need to bring up the coyote with mange you trapped in your cellar because you thought it was a chupacabra?"

Dustin frowns. "Considering you just brought it up- no."

"Voice in my head," Steve states to get them back on track. "Restricted area. Plan. Go.

Dustin sighs. "Fine. Do you think I can fit through the vents?"

Steve shakes his head. "They had to put grates in those because the octopus kept using them for midnight snack runs."

"Really?" Dustin feels like he should have heard about that, but he's only been an intern for a little over a month now.

"Yeah," Steve says dismissively, "It was a thing. Robin is a bit obsessed with her now."

"Like you're obsessed with the lampreys?"

Steve is clearly insulted by the accusation. He takes a moment to gape. "I am not obsessed with the lampreys. I am the opposite of obsessed."

"Sure." The one syllable is pure sarcasm. "Okay, so the other plan is we steal the badge of someone who has access."

"What do you mean we?"

"You aren't doing this alone."

"It's too dangerous." Steve's hands are back on his hips, but Dustin doesn't back down.

"If you get eaten, I get eaten," he states firmly. They have a silent standoff that Dustin eventually wins.

"Okay," Steve relents. He's learned in the few years he has known Dustin to not fight his loyalty. It was either agree now or be surprised when Dustin tailed him later. "Any idea who's badge we are going to steal?"

Dustin presses his lips together as he thinks. "There has to be people who do maintenance -"

"Maybe like the head aquarist?"

They both swing around to see Robin standing with a lanyard hanging from her finger. At the end is the badge of someone Steve doesn't recognize. He wonders how long she has been there and how much she heard.

"He left it in the food prep room," she explains as she holds it out to Steve.

He takes it, not bothering to ask questions even if there are quite a few that came to mind. The picture is of an older man with a receding hairline and white goatee. The text underneath reads: Wayne Munson.

New memories are sent to him. The sound of a kind drawl. Sweet and salty and tangy flavors masking the taste of decayed fish. Different textures. Something to look forward to.

Hope.

Steve looks at Robin. He smiles. She smiles back.

"Commence operation we're all getting fired."

[icantthinkyandere]

Hello! I hope that you have are having an awesome day! Can i request yandere gudao, Gudako and Mash x Servant!Reader (Who is kinda like Zhongli from genshin impact in where each ascension reveals their divine nature and also the reader shares similar power sets. Not only that the reader has been with them since the beggining acting not just as a loyal servant but also a mentor and a support figure for them)

This is going to lean more into them being platonic and less romantic, I hope that's okay!

I kinda wish I could say that my time has been awesome, but after I finished my summer semester, my zombie air-conditioner told me to die on the hottest days of August. It's better now, though!

{Gudao, Gudako, and Mashu}

Fuyuki was a very stressful and hard time for all of them. There's a good bit of time between Fuyuki and Orleans because there's a lot of readjusting that has to be done now that there are only two mages, they're not even good ones, and Olga has passed. They are all very stressed and very depressed.

Lucky one of the servants that Chaldea happened to summon a servant who more than capable of being their to support them in their time of need!

Their first [five star] high ranking support Caster! However, Da Vinci and Romani aren't sure if it's actually the person they were trying to summon. They're dressed in nice enough clothes, very polite, and overall just shockingly normal. They know servants will be different depending on the class as well as the point in time they're taken from. But with all of Da Vinci's research, she's never heard of them acting like this.

Despite their unexpected personality and being new to Chaldea, they are quick to start their mentor roles with both their new masters and Mashu.

Starting when they lend an ear to listen to Gudao and Gudako's troubles. They are nervous to express how overwhelmed you are with being the only two masters left out of dozens of them. Plus, being traumatized by the sudden explosion, the bodies, thinking both they and Mashu would also die alongside them.

But they are nothing but kind and supportive. They don't sugar-coat it and lie to them, the up coming journey will be hard. They will be with them every step of the way and help them to become better mages. Gudao and Gudako couldn't be more relieved to finally have that off their chest.

Gudao and Gudako know that everyone is doing their best to get the current situation at least passable so they can do the Singularities and not let everyone die. But wow. Did it feel good for someone, anyone, to just sit down with them and be there for them.

Mashu is sort of in a similar place. Now, being a Shielder class, she isn't too sure how to be one due to the lack of information they have on them. They may not be a Shielder, but the new servant is a defense support servant. They can't help her in the 100% way she needs. They can still help her train and improve her skills.

She just jumps into training. Mashu just wants to be a good servant and protect her senpais and Chaldea. Which was a mistake. Her new teacher can immediately tell something is wrong and makes her stop. She can't be a good protector or have her training go anywhere with how she's feeling.

They sit her down with some tea and, like with the Gudas, talk about what's wrong. It's not just to optimize a training schedule, but because they care about master and don't want to see her in emotional pain. It goes similar to Gudas, if not more hesitate than them, having a different background. They're so patient with her and allow her to take her time, saying that she doesn't even have to admit her feelings fully or even say them at all. They just want her to know they are here for her.

It does make her emotional. So many heavy unexpected things have happened, and she might not express her feelings now or possibly later, but the feelings of support mean a lot to her.

As their time with Chaldea continues, they become more comfortable, they choose to acsend into their second ascension and stay in it. It's a lot more what was expected when they were first summoned. There is much more proper and traditional type of outfit. It's flowly and shows off the black and yellow patterns they hide under their sleeves.

With more and more servants that join Chaldea, they thought the masters and Mashu would branch off into hanging out with other servants. Especially the more lively ones, reading, drinking tea and training can only be so fun. But, they don't. Even Mashu, who use to be curious about their backgrounds. The only time they actually do is when suggested to. Gudas and Mashu seem to have fun, but they feel like it's only to make them happy...

The three of them like the other servants, and like Da Vinci and Romani. But like the servants' skills, they are a pillar that has kept them from Fuyuki to Camelot. They really don't know what this journey would have been like without them in it.

Their journey together seems to be ending very soon, and the three could not be more worried about. They should be happy that Chaldea is almost done and the world will he save. But they don't wanna let go. They don't want this consent in their life to leave them, and they want to see them go. At least the Lostbelts will happen!

[luvscr]

selfish

simon riley x gn!reader

summary: simon gets injured on a mission while protecting you. he doesn't have a clue why you're making such a big deal out of it so you confront him about your feelings that have been bottled up for months.

warnings/tags: angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, blood and injury (just mentioned), gn reader, 2nd pov

apologies for anything that's grammatically incorrect!

also posted on ao3!

—

you are furious. not only did simon jump in front of a goddamn bullet that was meant for you, almost costing him his life but he has been disobeying both the head physician's and price's orders to stay put and not do anything that might put a strain on his injury or make it worse. you had caught him sneaking out of the shared gym at the base while clutching his side, right where his wound was. you two haven't spoken since the whole incident but you decided enough is enough and you refuse to let it go on like this any longer.

"simon, open up." you say, voice stern but still somewhat quiet while knocking on his door. you knew you did not have to raise your voice.

you hear the door squeak when simon opens it but stops before it can even go halfway. you can only see one of his eyes, his balaclava still on.

"what do you want?" his deep voice makes you tremble slightly. you almost forgot how easy it is for him to leave you weak in the knees.

"we need to talk."

"about what?" he huffs, clearly annoyed that you are "wasting" his precious time.

"you know damn well about what. are you gonna let me in or do you want the whole squad to hear?" you sent a mocking smile his way and you could see him rolling his eye, but it worked. the door creaked some more as you shut it behind yourself.

you've been in his room before. late-night conversations with one or two "cuppas" as simon calls them. finding comfort in each other from time to time after a flashback or a nightmare. you like to think that you two are close but with simon "ghost" riley you never know. you respect his privacy and he respects yours. no intimate information was ever shared between you or at least none you were already aware of. it was to "keep things" professional." he said. you know he doesn't even consider you a friend, more like somewhat of a co-worker but even that didn't stop you from developing romantic feelings for him. romance and feelings aren't your strong suit, but with him, it just happened.

most people would describe him as ruthless, terrifying and such. it was true. ghost was indeed a brutal person, but not simon. the man who stayed up with you countless times, rubbed your back while you were puking your guts out after a drinking game with soap went a bit too far, and all the other times that you couldn't thank him enough. not to mention those stupid jokes he makes all the time even out on the field.

"you're an asshole." you sigh. he doesn't say a thing but you could see in his eyes that he didn't expect that. "you had no right to do that."

"i saved your life and the mission was a success. i don't know what's your problem but if you continue whining like a little bitch, you might as well leave." he said in a tone you only hear when he's giving orders.

"my problem is that you almost fucking died for nothing simon!" you can feel the heat rising to your face in anger, jabbing at his chest.

you can almost feel tears of frustration peek through your eyes but there is no way you can let yourself cry in front of him. not like this.

his eyes widen for a split second then they go back to cold and wrathful.

"you were bleeding out in my arms because of a mistake that i made!" your voice cracked as you felt the lump in your throat grow and you look away from him.

"you don't get to do shit like that simon. what if things didn't work out huh? what would johnny and the others do if you died? do you have any idea-"

you don't finish, feeling your voice get strained as the seconds go by. "we- i don't want to lose you." you say, so quiet it barely counts as a whisper but he hears it just fine.

you bring yourself to look up at him again and he no longer has a harsh glare in his eyes. they have softened up, pupils slightly dilated. you can see his mask moving as if he is trying to open his mouth but he doesn't say a thing. you find the courage to take a step towards him.

it's so silent you can clearly hear your and his breaths filling the room. you raise a hand to touch his mask but he grabs your wrist and pulls you even closer and places it on his chest instead. he leans in and rests his forehead on your shoulder, hand still gripping yours. his deep voice flows to every inch of your body as he mumbles a small apology right into your ear. the hand that is lazily hanging from your side goes to caress his back. this is the first time he let you this close to him so you close your eyes to savor every last drop of this moment, even though the position you two are in is awkward and almost uncomfortable.

you decide to speak up, anger no longer present within your words. "loving you is hard.." you felt him stiffen up. "..but losing you would be much harder." you tightened your grip on him.

"we're not ordinary people, we can't afford love nor any stupid feelings in this line of work. if you're compromised mistakes are made. we both know what mistakes lead to, one wrong move and it's over." simon says leaning back, so he could look into your eyes.

you blink once, then twice and he is mere inches away from your face. his hand slowly pushes up yours to his face, under his mask. he closes his eyes, letting you do whatever you pleased. you steadily push up his balaclava, giving him a chance to back out if he wished to. he lets out a heavy sigh with a slight nod encouraging you to keep going, that it was okay. you trust him. of course you trust him, yet you close your eyes and lift it up in one go. you do not feel worthy of such thing as seeing him whole. are you even ready for this? is he ready for this? probably not. large, calloused hands touch your face. your eyes flinch together even more at the sudden contact. you feel like a fool.

you feel his thumbs caress over your eyebrows, his touch is so gentle you could cry.

"hey...c'mon now. open your eyes or are you scared i'm that ugly?" you snort at his ridiculous way of trying to lighten up the mood as you can hear him smiling into his words. you lean forward and press your face right into his chest.

"you're an idiot." you babbled into him, speech muffled. you finally look up at him and almost let out a gasp.

he was beautiful. strong jaw, plump scarred lips, long hooked nose, and-

oh..

those soft baby blues decorated with long blonde lashes, black paint smeared all around still. you've seen them stare at someone with the intention of killing, like a wild animal waiting for the right opportunity to strike, empty and hollow, red and glossy after a bad night but this... this is so much more, it's almost too much. at this very moment, his eyes are full of adoration and love but you're not even sure you can describe with words what you're seeing and feeling. everything is so intense you can't help but grip simon's waist. he lets out a small grunt and you feel your stomach sink and your face heat up at the sound he let slip. you part your lips and let your tongue run along your bottom lip while still maintaining eye contact. you're not sure who's the first one to reach the other but all you know is that you're kissing.

it's not romantic or soft. it's needy, clumsy, teeth clanking together and biting at each other. you feel a rough brush of a scar and it's like you're going to melt on his lips and then he would swallow you whole. it's euphoric and bitter at the same time. his taste is suffocating, like breathing in air after an explosion. you struggle to breathe but you don't care. you push your arms from under his and your hands go to his head, fingers carding through short ashy blonde hair and giving it a gentle tug. he smiles into the kiss, sharp canines leaving a playful bite on your lip. you pant, out of breath, foreheads pressed against one another. you can still feel him, his taste lingering, filling up your senses.

"i know i said we can't afford something like this but.." he rasps, swallowing down whatever was on the tip of his tongue.

he leans in again, lips brushing together as he muttered right onto them.

"..i want to be selfish with you."

and he just goes in for another kiss.