#but I do fantasize about a reality where he lives

[arthurbarnes]

Though lucky was not the word that Arthur would have chosen to describe how he was feeling about how much he yearned to stay in Miss Winslow's presence, once she said it, he could see that she was entirely correct. He was incredibly fortunate to have found someone who made the simple act of saying goodbye so hard; especially because he had been certain that he would never meet someone who made him feel this way again.

"Well, I....I suppose that I should not keep the swarm of suitors wishing to offer you a dance waiting." Arthur said softly, though in truth, he desired nothing more than to make them wait until they lost interest. He knew, though, that to do such a thing was unfair to Miss Winslow, that if she was to choose his company over the company of others, than it needed to, in fact, be a choice. "It has...truly... been amongst the great pleasures of my life, meeting you, and spending time in your company tonight, Miss Winslow." He bowed and offered her a smile, his eyes full of adoration for her, and hope for the two of them. "I have little doubt in my mind that...that we will meet again soon. Please, keep an eye out for my correspondence." And with one final smile, and nearly all the willpower that he possessed, he left her.

Some time later....

The evening was spiraling fast towards a close, and though Arthur had tried his very best to put Miss Winslow from his mind, to return his focus to his sister and her activities, he had still found himself looking with yearning across the room to where Adelaide was far more often than he meant to. Over time, he found himself fantasizing of a scenario where he could steal one additional moment with her before the night ended, which gradually turned from fantasy into a plan he was determined to make into reality. In a moment wherein they were passing by one another, just as he had orchestrated they would be, Arthur reached and discreetly placed a folded piece of paper within her gloved palm, hoping that she would unfold it and read the message scrawled upon it in hasty and excited handwriting:

I have heard a rumor that the garden here is quite lovely to look upon under the glow of the moon. Indeed, I have seen a great many of the guests here heading outside to steal a look within the past hour. It is my intention of going out to look at the top of the next hour, so that I may see for myself if it as beautiful as they say. Please do me the honour of seeking out my company there, so that, should the gardens fail to live up to their reputation, I may still look upon something lovely once more before the night's end.

~ A

As he made his way outside, it was to find that there were several people admiring the garden and speaking in hushed tones to one another. All he could do now was wait, and hope that Miss Winslow would accept his invitation.

Adelaide was used to goodbyes, it was etiquette at balls and events such as this. Never had she had the sweet pleasure of a goodbye being so difficult. She had found herself breaking every rule that she usually maintained at balls. No second dances, escaping as quickly as she could. But as she stood on the dancefloor, the music coming to a conclusion, marking the end of the dance... she just wanted more time. Another song. For the string quartet to linger on the final notes just a little longer. Arthur's admission made her heart swell, an ignition of hope that perhaps he had felt the same way she did. That perhaps finding a match this season would not be as impossible as it once seemed. "I do not think there is a world in which I could forget," her words were earnest, yet vulnerable; in a way in which the redhead was not used to being. Vulnerability was foreign to her, it made her heart race and her mouth dry. "I do not wish to be impertinent towards other gentlemen, but, I have never enjoyed being in their company as much as I have enjoyed being in yours. Luck is on our side to make a simple departure of the night so unbearable."

[alshamswelnahr]

Genya survives AU

Post-war, Genya struggles with the effects of his almost fatal injury, becoming weaker physically. He uses a wooden cane most of the time and a wheelchair on more challenging days. Along with the physical scars, he has emotional ones, suffering from PTSD and relentless nightmares. He starts living with Sanemi, slowly learning how to coexist. Genya tries to make up for the lost time, aware as well that their remaining time is limited because of the Mark. Their life is full of moments of warmth and gentleness, but it's different from when they were younger, years of separation and one-sided hostility creates an unease between the boys. Sanemi's protectiveness sometimes feels stifling, but Genya keeps his emotions and thoughts regarding it bottled up, fearing damaging their fragile bond. Acting like siblings again is tough and Genya assumes that's natural given all they've been through and their long separation. His body fails him in ways he doesn't share with Sanemi to spare him, and because it is impossible to communicate. Genya finds solace in the Kamado family, though he can’t visit them often due to his physical limitations. When he does, they don't view him with pity, unlike the way Sanemi subtly and silently but noticeably does.

Genya adores Sanemi, and on his good days, he’s grateful for every painful, labored breath because it gives him another chance to be with his brother. Sanemi cooks his favorite meals and ensures he doesn’t strain his body. They have long conversations, not about the past but about many other things. Genya’s heart is full of gratitude, and he often finds himself wanting to reach out and hug his brother. However, on bad days, his body aches and flares, Sanemi feels like a stranger, a mere shadow of the boy he once knew, and he can't help but notice all the scars that cover his body, the tiredness he hides, and the fact that he knows little about him.

Genya would do anything for Sanemi, including giving up his life for him. He craves some personal space. He wants to give Sanemi the world. He is frustrated with his brother's tender words and gentle gestures that fail to ease the pain, yet he knows it’s unfair to direct his anger at his brother.

Every moment alive, next to Sanemi, is a blessing, though life remains difficult. When Genya accidentally mentions one of their younger siblings, Sanemi flinches. Whenever he tries to bring up that night, Sanemi recoils, only responding with, "If you apologize again, I'll smack you in the face." So, Genya avoids the topic of their family and the death of the Hashira, unable to bring himself to ask Sanemi about the way he spent his time after they both went their own way.

He knows Sanemi is there for him, but he fixates on every small shift in his brother's behavior, carefully examining each word and action, fearing that at any moment his brother will leave and never return. A whirlpool grows in his chest, threatening to consume everything, leaving him all alone in the darkness and cold. This feeling eats away at him, reminding him that he was abandoned once, which means it could happen again. He fears that Sanemi might get tired of him, see him for who he really is, and leave. Or worse, his brother might try to spare him from witnessing his suffering from the mark by packing up and running away. When Sanemi’s voice sounds distant or his demeanor becomes cold even slightly, Genya panics, nearly falling to his knees, begging the other to stay.

Desperate to keep his brother close, Genya obeys Sanemi’s every command. They follow the routine advised by the Butterfly girls, walking around the estate daily and eating only healthy steamed food. Genya avoids lifting heavy objects around Sanemi, constantly smiles, and accompanies Sanemi everywhere, avoiding discussions about the Mark or the fear that creeps in late at night. He knows his brother wants happiness for him, so he tries his best to obtain it.

Genya is really grateful for his love and care. Sanemi offers to carry him when he notices him wincing with every step which he refuses every time. Sanemi shapes his life around Genya's needs, goes with him to every medical appointment, pats his head with gentleness, helps him get dressed, adds an extra layer on top of him when it's a chilly night, buys him new clothes, a wheelchair, and even waters his bonsai tree when he forgets. And in the summer, he brings him watermelon every day. Genya is the most spoiled person in the world. His brother's love overwhelms him; it is the weight that suffocates him, it tethers him to reality and stifles him at the same time.

Genya knows his brother doesn't mean to be overbearing. Sanemi tries hard every day. He picks his words carefully and softens his edges. He even sits back at times, allowing Genya to cook a bit, tidy up, or visit friends. Sanemi makes an effort to be nice, asks Genya many questions, and restrains himself from offering help for every single thing. Genya notices the agony in Sanemi's eyes when he's in physical pain and the hurt when he shares something about himself that his older brother doesn't know. He sees the guilt, and the worry too. Sanemi has been caring and looking out for him ever since he was very young, so Genya understands that it won't be easy to stop. He understands, he really does.

[qirongshusband]

I love your works!!:3 so i hope dont mind me requesting a toji x male reader where toji is a camboy and the readers gets a priv chat with him and call where toji thinks there female but actually male (since manly people would get more girs than guys) and just flirts way to much

Sorry im yapping so mucchhh, thank you if you do🎀

݁CamBoy Toji .

Notes ~ you didn’t yap don’t worry thank you so much for explaining what you wanted! ( ＾∀＾)

MENTIONS — Camboy!Toji, Toji Fushiguro, masturbating, livestream, dildo, mentions of feminization, flirting, nicknames.

You had finally arrived back home from a long day of hanging out with your friends, you wanted some time for yourself to relax and rewind. You grabbed your laptop and a few other things as you made it to your bed.

As you sat on your bed you opened your laptop powering it on to watch one of your favorite ‘streamers’..a ‘streamer’ who makes videos of himself having sexual intercourse with other women or him pleasing himself in short videos. Oh and how bad you wish you were those women he was fucking, you’ve been watching his stuff for months maybe a year.. of course you didn’t make any attempt to talk to him as you were a man and didn’t think he had any attraction to men, you thought he wouldn’t be into men as his page was just him fucking women or other stuff for women.

You enjoyed his videos though, you would watch them anytime you would get time alone for yourself, Toji Fushiguro was a very attractive man with blue silver-ish eyes and a perfectly built body his voice was even better too..that deep low tone that could send shivers down your spine. You really wish you were one of the women he’d talk dirty to or the ones he’d touch with those big calloused hands of his.

You shook your head and stopped fantasizing about all the scenarios that could happen you snapped back to reality, leading your hands to click on the stream he currently had. He was getting requests and comments telling him to do things or asking him lewd questions, of course all of the commenters were woman, you wanted to be a bit bold though, you had sent a few dollars a long with a message telling him how good he looked and how you enjoyed his ‘content’ and after he read what you said a slight smirk emerged from his lips as he said a low ‘thank you.’ With a small hum in his tone.

You couldn’t help but get aroused from his reaction and pull down the remaining fabrics that felt tight around your crotch, you spread your legs as you then looked over at the small little pile of things you grabbed from earlier, you grabbed your 9inch dildo — just as long as Toji’s cock — and you grabbed a bottle of lube as you applied it to the dildo as you then lined it up to your puckered hole and slowly slid it in, there was already a tight feeling in your abdomen as it continued to slowly slide its way inside you. You continued to watch his stream as you moved the fake cock in and out, faint moans escaped your lips as you were gasping from how stretched out you were getting, he was also masturbating on stream you could only imagine that was his cock moving inside you,

All you could do was whine and moan out his name whining and hoping one day he could just fuck your guts out, you were too lost and flooded in pleasure with out realizing your foot had guided its way to the ‘request to join live’ button, Toji noticed as he then pressed accept, your camera was off but you were unmuted letting out soft whines and loud moans for everyone and him to hear. “Hello— oh?” He raised his eyebrow in curiosity as a smirk marked on his face, you didn’t realize until you looked down and noticed he could hear you. You gasped as you tried to mute yourself but couldn’t, “such’a pretty n’ cute voice. ‘Wanna continue f’me?” Toji said a seductive lewd tone, your moans where so soft and high he had mistakend you for a girl, you were really quiet as you were completely still, only slight whimpers could be heard from you.

“Too shy to speak hm? I could move ya’ to a private call w’me..” you could only let out a soft hum which indicated ‘yes’ which was all he needed to end his little stream and move you to a private call with him, “so..what’s yer name.” you didn’t choose to answer you remained quiet, you were too shy to talk to him. “Too shy to speak eh? Ha..you weren’t too quiet to request to join my stream n’ moan your little heart out sweetheart. Of course I’m not judging though, I found it cute. Keep goin’ f’me.” He said shutting his eyes and smiling with that smirk he always has that you see in his videos. At first you were hesitant but you slowly continued to keep going trying to suppress your moans with your hand over your mouth but failed miserably as you went faster and harder, you couldn’t help but think about him as you heard his moans while he stroked his cock in front of you, you got to have him to yourself…as you got to watch him stroke his dick off to you,

It felt so wrong but so right, he didn’t know you were a man and you didn’t know if he swung that way all you could do was live in the moment as he told you what to do. He mentioned some things for you to do that you really couldn’t because you had no female parts but tried to make it work..it felt like a slight turn off when he’d call you a ‘good girl’ or anything of the sort that was feminine but you couldn’t blame him, he didn’t know you were a man. You felt yourself closer to your orgasm as you curled up your toes and arched your back moaning even louder, louder, letting out more and more whines and whimpers. You moved your hand to mute your mic, your vision was a little hazy and you thought you pressed the mute button but you turned your camera on without knowing,

You had laid back on your bed catching your breath and panting heavily, he noticed your camera was on and his eyes slightly widening as they soon went calm again, “oh? So yer a man huh? That’s new, shoulda have told me, would’ve actually tried to please ya’ properly.” You gasped as you sat up quickly in a panic to shut off your laptop so prepared to block him but he quickly stopped you from doing so as he chuckled looking at you in the eyes, “ya’know, yer really pretty. And you have such a nice body..can’t believe you would hide this from me, sweetheart. Such a pretty boy.” He whispered to you. You couldn’t bring yourself to reply to him as you looked away from him your heart was beating you could feel it pounding in your chest as butterflies started to fill your stomach as your breath was still slightly hitched from earlier. “Here..take my number, I ‘wanna do this again with’ya again some day. Maybe even get to actually do something with you too..give me a call whenever baby.” The call then ended as you sat there flabbergasted and dumbfounded, with his number in the chat from the ended call and left with how he reacted..you…you weren’t expecting that.

[chilling-seavey]

Formula 1 Masterlist

♡ Welcome to my Formula 1 masterlist! Here, we will explore and create universes together - straying far from the pit lane we know all too well to, instead, journey through new realities ♡ Comments are always incredibly appreciated and please feel free to send in questions or ideas or asks so I can write some blurbs and help keep these universes thriving! Happy reading!

George Russell

Enchanté ↳ On a brief business trip to Paris, you find yourself enamoured with this handsome stranger and the fleeting promises he offers in the city of love

Blue Moon Motel ↳ George has decided that his affair with you needs to end but he takes you out for one last night before saying goodbye.

Don't Worry Darling ↳ Married and thriving in an idealised community based on routine, gender roles, and arguable paradise, you and George seem to be just as perfect together as the utopia you live within - but not everything is as it seems on the surface.

Love Thy Neighbour PART ONE PART TWO ↳ It’s the end of summer 1984 and you and your perfect little family move into a quaint suburban neighbourhood to escape the hustle and bustle of the Manhattan lifestyle. Your next door neighbours are a picture-perfect family of their own - or so it seems from the outside. But, as you spend more and more time with the handsome husband, the cracks in your own marriage start to come to light.

Little Bit of Luck ↳ You fly to Bahrain to surprise George before the first race of the season, giving him a bit of good luck in his driver's room before lights out.

Silence of the Mountains ↳ George decides to rent a motorhome for the Austrian Grand Prix weekend like some of the other drivers do; he's sure it'll make everything so much more convenient. Sharing the space with his trainer might be beneficial for work but certainly not when it comes to taming your insatiable appetite.

In The Middle - feat. Pierre Gasly ↳ The summer of 1985 had your time filled with two handsome men who, with each, you had a non-exclusive friends-with-benefits relationship. They were completely unaware of the other’s existence in your life but that’s what added to the thrill. Once you faced a few close calls where they almost discovered your cheeky little secret, you decided to lay all your cards on the table and see if you could have the best of both worlds on the same night.

The Patriarchy ↳ Of course George is a feminist; but who is he to deny you when sometimes you just want him to treat you like his property.

What He Deserves ↳ George just won in Monaco and there's only one way he wants to celebrate. You wouldn't dream of saying no to his request; not when he deserved the world, and more.

Confessional ↳ George is the golden boy of the congregation and can do no wrong as the pastor’s son and purest of heart, body, and soul. You find yourself fantasizing about ruining each other's purity more than anything, although little do you know, after an unexpected fess up in the confessional booth, he’s not as innocent as meets the eye

Lessons in Love and Other Ilicit Desires (Multi-Chapter Novel) ↳ Sensible, wise, and a hopeless dreamer, Rosaline was used to men not giving her a second glance. She soon discovered it was merely those mundane college boys who were nothing more than simply intimidated by her intellect. What she needed was a man — someone who could impart knowledge beyond the Classics and guide her in discovering her own confidence as a woman. The thrill of sneaking around with the ever-so-charmingly handsome Professor Russell was certainly a bonus.

The Way It Goes (Slice of Life Blurbs) ↳ A collection of stand-alone blurbs centered around George and his growing little family in which I can use their world to purge my domestic George thoughts and daydreams.

Lando Norris

Nothing Looks the Same in the Light - feat. Oscar Piastri ↳ "I watch you breathe, I cannot sleep. I touch your hair, I kiss your skin, and hope the morning sun won’t wake you too soon [...] Nothing looks the same in the light. Only a fool like me would take to heart the things you said you meant last night."

Dreamland (Mini Series) ↳ As a flunking university student in dreary Bristol, Lando is sure there’s another life waiting for him elsewhere. A life that he can only dream of living with the girl with a million dollar career, verified instagram, and a stunning smile that he swears was created for him. But maybe those dreams stray no farther than his phone screen.

Pierre Gasly

Even out of View (WW1 Drabble) - feat. Esteban Ocon ↳ It's 1916. They were supposed to be fighting for their country, but now, with the world in peril, Esteban was to be treated as the enemy by his own people. Pierre is Esteban's nightwatch before he is executed for treason.

In The Middle - feat. George Russell ↳ The summer of 1985 had your time filled with two handsome men who, with each, you had a non-exclusive friends-with-benefits relationship. They were completely unaware of the other’s existence in your life but that’s what added to the thrill. Once you faced a few close calls where they almost discovered your cheeky little secret, you decided to lay all your cards on the table and see if you could have the best of both worlds on the same night.

[spiderfreedom]

the male gaze distorts reality

started watching movies again (just don't like movies really) and one thing that surprised me was how the male gaze isn't just about staring at hot naked ladies, but how it distorts reality. the male gaze creates 'people' and 'situations' that simply don't exist.

the biggest example to me is the femme fatale. the devious woman using her sexuality as a weapon. whether the trope is a blonde bimbo bubblingly bouncing her boobs, or a sophisticated older brunette casually letting the strap fall off her shoulder and threatening to reveal her bust, they are different incarnations of the same concept. the women are knowingly using the sexual desire of men against them.

i watched a particularly egregious example where a group of women were sent to seduce a group of men, hanging off their shoulders, caressing their chests, with the promise of further sex if they came to another room. the true purpose was to humiliate them by getting them to disrobe in front of other people.

when i was a kid watching these scenes, i was convinced that this was a real thing women did - there were women out there who knowingly used their sexual appeal to get men to do things they otherwise wouldn't. it had to be such a recurrent trope for a reason, right? it even shows up in movies for children - remember the hot pink pegasus seducing hercules's pegasus?

but as an adult, i find myself confused watching these scenes. i've never seen anything like this happen. i've never met someone who says they do things like this. it's one thing to be flirty and dress in a sexually attractive way to get free drinks, but it's quite another to be so sexually forward to 'deceive' and 'trap' men. not to mention, it's... dangerous. if the man even believes he's being deceived, he can turn violent. it's a foolish move.

maybe the only real life example I can think of is honeypots. but honeypots are actual spies, trained by governments, and spies are selected to have less empathy than the average human being. do we really think that among untrained women there are so many seductresses with the skill of trained spies?

"what about sex workers/prostitutes?" while the honeypot spy is employed by a government agency, prostitutes are paid by the very people they are "seducing." prostitutes have to put on an act - they need to pretend to be the sexually active and perpetually horny woman men both want and fear. but most prostitutes are not like this; they are in it because they need money fast, not because they think fucking strange men for pay is a sexy and desirable career path (fun fact - read the diary of madam pompadour, the most famous courtesan and the embodiment of aristocratic seductress, and you will find she actually did not like having sex with the king and dreaded it. not even our real life courtesans can live up to our fantasies.)

the entire idea of a woman using her sexuality against men is simply a male fantasy - and the flipside is that it's a male anxiety, too.

men wish that women would approach them and find them desirable and initiate sexual intercourse with them, without the men having to do any of the work. there's nothing inherently wrong with fantasizing that a hot person finds you so special and hot that they want to have sex with you right away. men and women of all sexual orientations entertain these secret fantasies.

but then, there's the fear - "what if these hot women are actually only pretending to be interested in me, to get something from me? and i'm too horny to think straight and i actually give it to them?!" and that is the male anxiety, that for a moment, they actually end up losing the upper hand. despite the fact that such a situation is actually pretty rare in real life (I asked several male friends if they had personally or second-hand encountered such a situation in real life, and none could say they had), it is a common trope in fiction. it is especially lascivious in film, where the seduction before the fall can be portrayed in softcore porny ways.

"this is a foolish idea, everyone knows fiction and reality are separate." well, we know they are separate, but do you know which parts? if you don't already know the facts of the situation beforehand, how can you tell when fiction is lying to you and when it's drawing from reality? do you think the young, sexually inexperienced kids watching disney's hercules know that 'seductresses' aren't a common threat when we watch this scene? or will they learn and think "ok, a thing that happens in grownup life is that hot ladies seduce men, and you gotta watch out for them!" what basis does a child or even a teenager have to know this is false? especially when this is a common trope?

"women are sexually available and active - and deceitful" is a harmful trope. when you read about the ancient greeks stereotyping that women are lustful, they don't mean it in an "aww shucks, these girls just love having sex!" kinda way, they mean it in a "women are unfaithful and will use any means to get dick, including taking advantage of their hotness" way (this is why 'whore' is the ultimate insult for women). because if this trope were real, then it would be dangerous, wouldn't it? honeypot spies are dangerous for this reason. luckily for us, it is not real, but the male anxiety surrounding it continues. the male desire/anxiety around it informs porn tropes about 'punished sluts'. it informs incel tropes about the 'cock carousel'.

and this is what i mean when i say the male gaze distorts reality. it fabricates, out of whole cloth, a person that does not exist in any meaningful way - a woman who seduces men while demanding no emotional involvement, who is eager and willing at all times, who can turn the very desire for her existence against those men to get what she wants. she is not repulsed by or afraid of the men she pretends to be attracted to. before, we had to content ourselves with art and novels glorifying this false woman, but film allows her to exist in flesh and blood. cast a real woman, have her speak words and move her body in ways dictated by a man, and suddenly she appears much more real. grow up with enough of these, and even women writers can start to think these "seductresses" are real people. she can try to reclaim her and turn her into a badass boss babe, or she can condemn her as immoral and pathetic, but the deception is complete - the argument is no longer about whether this woman exists (she does not), but about whether she is justified in her ways. the female writer does not realize she was nursed on the male gaze for years, and it will take serious seeing with her own eyes to realize what is the real world and what is male fantasies and fears.

[baldursgate3tempobsessed]

Please let Astarion meet Tav's family and have a younger sibling like 6 be like im gonna marry the prince points at Astarion.

Tav : Sorry, im married to the prince

NO IM GONNA MARRY THE PRINCE

That's so fucking cute kill me. But I just realized AFTER I finished it I read this wrong 😭😭 I read it as "marry" instead of "married" so whoops now it's an asking for your hand in marriage fic.

Also, I'm going to make this a weird little, unofficial, alternate reality, off shoot of this fic to explain away why Astarion can be in the sun without ascending because I am ~lazy~

Quick summary if you didn't read it, Tav serves Selune, gets a blessing for all the good work, and uses it to cure the anti-light issue of the vampirism (but not all of it). It's not a literal extension of that fic but I'm stealing my own plot explanations. That's it! Now here we go:

~

Astarion wasn't nervous per se. He was just... on edge. And the two-week journey it took to get here wasn't helping things, not when it gave him so much time to ruminate in his thoughts. He never expected to be in the position of "meeting the family," let alone in anticipation for asking for someone's hand in marriage.

Astarion wasn't even quite sure how his life got here. He had always fantasized that a life without Cazador would be one of selfish hedonism, not one where he would be legitimately concerned about a damn six year old sibling's first impression of him.

But then you came along, effortlessly shattering all of his grandiose plans with a batt of your eyelashes. Perhaps the entire journey of falling in love was more complicated, but it felt like it was that simple. In hindsight, he never stood a chance against you, but it was hilarious that there was a time he ever thought he did.

All of his prior dreams and fantasies felt like nothing in comparison to just being with you. It had been a year since you both saved the Sword Coast, a beautiful, fantastic year. That had ended with him somehow more in love with you now than when he first confessed. Selune's blessing had certainly helped with that he was sure. He still couldn't quite believe that you would use a god's blessing on him of all people, but gods, was he appreciative. Because being able to walk in the sun again meant that he could live the life he wanted, with no restrictions. He could be the partner you deserved, the kind that a father would happily say yes to when asking for your hand.

Which brought him back to his current dilemma. Perhaps he hadn't seen any of your family members in the time you'd been together, but he had heard plenty. You loved them all to death, especially your little sister. You wrote to them constantly, the mere sight of a letter from your parents enough to put you in a great mood for the rest of the day. He was aware that your mother was supposedly a saint, a fact that your own father had instilled in you often. He knew that they had a wonderful, loving marriage and were both higher ups in the Church of Selune. A fact that Astarion didn't particularly enjoy.

As grateful to the moon goddess as he was, he was aware that you were an expectation to the very normal belief that vampires were bad. And that marrying one was one of the stupidest things you could ever do from an average person's perspective, let alone a Selunite.

Why you hadn't done the smart thing and lied about what he was, Astarion would never know. But he did know that the thought of their rejection over his admittedly sordid history was putting him in a tailspin.

"They're going to love you," You said for the hundredth time, giving his hand a squeeze as you led him up the steps to your childhood home, "You have nothing to worry about sweetheart. I promise."

Astarion highly doubted that, but you were already knocking on the front door before he had a chance to argue. The door instantly slammed open, a beaming child already launching themselves at you before Astarion could process what was happening.

But you were more prepared them he was. You effortlessly caught them in your arms, laughing at their excited shouting, "Titi! You're late!"

So this was the famous Arabeth.

"No, I'm not!" You laughed as you settled her on your hip, "And what happened to my little girl's manners huh? You haven't even introduced yourself yet."

The child glanced over at him, like she was just realizing for the first time that someone else was standing over there. She looked a little shocked at the sight of him, staring at him with wide eyes. Wide enough for Astarion to start to wonder if something was on his face.

He gave her a little wave only for her to bury her face into your shoulder, peeking out at him with her lips pursed. Which was not the best start to the whole making his darling's family actually like him plan.

"Well, as you've probably guessed this is Arabeth. She's just a little shy," You reassured as you stepped inside, muttering a quick invitation inside under your breath. He appreciated that, he didn't need the whole house to be reminded of his... limitations.

"But she'll get over it soon enough," You continued as you called into the house, "Mom? Dad? We're here!"

And just like that they were rushing into the room, acting just as excited as your sister had been. Your mother wasted no time in smothering your face with kisses while your father swept you up into a hug. It was a rather impressive display of coordination, considering how they hadn't managed to knock you and your sister to the floor in the process. Astarion was pretty sure they were both saying something along the lines of We missed you! But it was hard to tell with all of you so tangled up in each other.

It was heartwarming to see, in all honestly. Of course such a loving person would come from an equally loving family, what else would he expect?

Though he certainly hadn't been expecting for your mother to throw her arms around him next. She brought him into a tight hug before looking him up and down, "So you're Astarion huh?"

She turned back to you, grinning ear to ear with her hands set on Astarion's shoulders, "He's so handsome! Selune help us, do you remember the last boy you brought home? He had a nose the length of my arm-"

"And that's enough of that," You said with a strained laugh, pulling your eccentric mother back a few inches, "And we've talked about the impromptu hugs. What happened to asking for permission?"

"Sorry, sorry!" She said with a wave of her hand, "Let me try again. I'm Seliras, and this is my husband-"

"Marcoul," Your father interrupted, putting his hand out for Astarion to shake, "It's been awhile since we've met a boyfriend."

"He's a little more than that," You said with a sigh as everyone exchanged pleasantries.

"We'll be the judge of that," Marcoul said with a sharp but friendly grin, the grip he had on Astarion's hand briefly tightening before he let go, "From what we've heard, you're quite the character aren't you?"

Ah, so the interrogating was starting early then. It was nothing that Astarion hadn't expected. Besides, turning up the charm was his strong suit, even when he was uncharacteristically nervous.

Astarion smiled back at him, "You've heard right. And I'm more than happy to answer any questions you might have."

"Oh gods please don't say that," You groaned, but it was too late. Your parents were already leading him to sit, rapid-fire questions coming out of their mouth.

Where are you from? How did you meet? Are you serious about our Tav? What's your religion? Where's your family? What are your plans?

But Astarion answered them all, with only mild censorship for the child's sake. The child who suddenly couldn't stop staring at him. It wasn't exactly easy to sell himself as a future husband when he was a vampiric ex-slave, but he made do.

It was an overwhelming experience to say the least, but not necessarily an unpleasant one. That was one good thing about trying to marry into a family of zealots, it was a lot easier to convince them of your virtue when you received a personal blessing from their goddess.

By the end of the night, they were all throughly appeased, enough so to get off the topic of him for a moment.

"You look a little young to have a thirty-year old child," Astarion said to your mother. He was actively trying to compliment her for obvious reasons, but he was also genuinely curious. She barely looked a day over 40.

"Oh we breed young," She said with a laugh, "We had Tav in our teenage years. Arabeth came much, much later. Our favorite little surprise. Gods, I can't think of a single person in our family who didn't have kids young. Our little Tav is the only exception to the rule."

"But maybe not for much longer, huh?" Marcoul added with a grin, yelping when you lightly smacked him over the head for the comment.

"Do not start the kid talk again!" You hissed out, cheeks red, "We've talked about this!"

Astarion couldn't help but grin at your reaction, charmed by your embarrassment. Though... the idea of the two of you having children together sure was an interesting thought.

Astarion felt a tug on his sleeve while you were distracted arguing with your parents. He turned, smiling when he saw your little sister standing there, still staring at him with wide-eyes.

She took a deep breath before blurting out, "You look like a prince. Are you?"

"Not exactly," Astarion said with a small laugh. That couldn't be further from the truth, "There's no blue blood in my veins."

She frowned, cocking her head at him like he wasn't making any sense. But then an idea obviously struck her as she excitedly asked, "But if you married a princess, then you'd become a prince too. Right?"

"I suppose?" Astarion answered with a shrug.

"So if I become a princess, and I marry you, then you'll be a prince?"

This conversation was quickly becoming out of his depth. But luckily enough for him you were swooping in to save him.

You laughed at her question, turning your attention back to the two of them, "No offense Bethy, but I'm going to be the one marrying this particular prince."

But Arabeth wasn't having it. She crossed her arms, looking at you like she was the one talking to a child, "You can't. Because if I don't marry him, he won't be a prince. So there. I have to do it."

She looked so serious, her facial expressions incredibly similar to your own. Astarion was holding back a loud laugh as you tried and failed to reason with her, "I can marry him without the royal status-"

"No! I'm marrying the prince!"

Your parents were doing a much worse job at hiding their reactions, both of them opening giggling behind their hands as you came up with a compromise.

"Okay, okay," You said with a sigh, kneeling down to look the small girl in the eye, "How about this? I marry him first. But only until you become a princess. Then he's all yours. Sound fair?"

She thought about it for a moment before nodding to herself, "Sounds fair."

Well Astarion wasn't going to get a better set-up then that. He turned to your father, his nerves coming back for a brief appearance, "I'm assuming now might be a good time to ask what I came here to ask. Though I do promise I only intending on asking for one of your children's hand in marriage."

Marcoul nodded slowly, his face unreadable as he spoke, "I mean no offense when I say this Astarion, but you aren't exactly who I imagined for my daughter."

"Dad don't-"

"Darling, let him finish," Astarion gently interrupted, his eyes still locked with your father's.

He took a deep breathe before continuing, "That said, I've never seen her so... herself with someone else before. So yes. The two of you can marry. On one condition."

"Anything," Astarion said instantly, nearly giddy at the fact that he was so close to the official yes, "Just name it."

"You have to have the wedding here," Seliras answered for him, a massive smile on her face, "No ifs, ands, or buts."

"And I get to be flower girl!" Arabeth chimed in, her past indignation completely forgotten as she climbed all over you, "And there has to be chocolate cake!"

"Oh gods, help us," You groaned, but Astarion was already nodding along. He couldn't give less than two shits where it happened or who was involved. He could scarcely believe that it was happening at all. But that was the last thing he had needed.

He already had the ring, the most amazing person he could ever fathom being with. Who actually wanted him back.

Now all he had to do was ask.

[projectionistwrites]

moonboys and a reader who maladaptive daydreams?

hi, nonnie! thank you for this request, you must’ve seen my blog description haha. this is my first fic request which is very exciting! my inbox is always open so if you’d like to request something, i’d appreciate it. :) anyway, i hope you like it!

IMPLODING THE MIRAGE

Moon Knight x afab!reader (primarily Marc Spector) (10.6k+)

You’ve been escaping into yourself more and more often, and the boys are starting to notice. How are you supposed to explain to them that you don’t want to live in the moment, when the version of your life inside your head is so much better than reality on the outside?

RATING: EXPLICIT (18+, mdni) WARNINGS: maladaptive daydreaming, insecure reader & negative perceptions of self, depictions of injury & violence, kidnapping, miscommunication, SMUT (inappropriate fantasizing, unprotected p in v sex, cum eating, dirty talk, dom/sub dynamics if you squint)

imploding the mirage — the killers

i had to do it, i had no other choice you’ve got to listen to the inside voice a bullet train will get you there fast but it won’t guarantee a long last sometimes it takes a little bit of courage and doubt to push your boundaries out beyond your imagining

He was the moon, and she was the stars.

It was serendipitous, how the couple had come to fall in love throughout the course of their divine adventures alongside each other—two servants to a pair of primordial Egyptian deities, serving as Avatars to protect those who could not protect themselves. She’d met him at a meeting of the Ennead, when he’d been called upon to answer for his actions against a human named Arthur Harrow, who was accused of attempting to raise Ammit from eternal isolation.

The trial hadn’t gone well, and certainly hadn’t worked in his favor, but her goddess protector had a soft spot for Khonshu, the God of the Moon—after all, he was the reason she had been given five extra days with which to bear her five children.

So her Avatar was secretly assigned to keep watch over the Moon Knight, to aid in his fight to keep Ammit contained and offer her services should he need them.

He was resistant at first, but Khonshu insisted that having Nut as an ally could only serve to benefit them in their journey—after all, she was the sky, and without her, the Moon could not rise.

Marc Spector and his alters didn't anticipate becoming so infatuated with the soft curve of her Avatar’s smile or the cosmos she seemed to hold within her eyes. But as time passed, they grew closer, and when she saved him again and again, the navy blue of her armor shimmering with glowing silver emblems of stars, he felt as if his soul was tethered to her. It seemed to be fate, as clear as a constellation, that their lives were somehow intertwined and their happenstance meeting was actually the result of some unseen gravitational pull, guiding them through the darkness until they found solace in one another.

He heard her sandal-clad feet softly hit the solid ground, her body drifting down from the sky to land beside him after her short flight in the air. He turned to look at her—the flowing robes of her ceremonial armor billowed in the evening breeze, her hair pulled back intricately with thin glittering bands of silver, adorned with five-pointed stars that captured the moonlight in her curls. She was ethereal, heavenly, celestial, and when she turned and smiled at him, he swore the planets aligned in some brief moment of rapture.

“Where to next, Moon Boy?”

She teased lightly, her nose crinkling with amusement. His hands twitched at his sides, unable to control the movement of his arm as it reached for her hand.

He heard Khonshu chuckle deeply from somewhere behind him, condescending and slightly mocking. Still, he always spoke kinder about the woman beside him than any other being on this Earth.

“I should’ve known you would become enamored with the little star. Nut always finds a way to reunite the beings of the night sky.”

Marc ignored him—he was too enthralled by the way her breath hitched in her throat at the feeling of his fingers brushing her own, the hood and mask of his armor receding to reveal the tenderness of his gaze. He turned to face her, his other gloved hand reaching to cradle the side of her jaw. He watched as her gaze flickered down to his lips, and he smiled.

“Anywhere, as long as it’s with you.”

He leaned forward to capture her lips with his own, swallowing her contented sigh as she melted into his touch—

“Jesus Christ!”

You nearly toppled forward when Marc abruptly yanked his arm away from you, his face contorted into a look of pain. You blinked once, then twice, eyes clearing to focus in on the blood staining your hands and the curved needle that was pinched tightly between your forefinger and thumb.

“The fuck was that? Are you even paying attention to what you’re doing?”

Marc hissed at you, cradling his injured forearm to his chest, gritting his teeth as your eyes widened in realization.

“Shit, shit, I’m sorry, Marc, I zoned out, here, just let me see—”

“Forget it, I’ll just do it myself.”

He snatched the suture from your hand and laid his arm back on the marbled countertop of your bathroom sink, giving you a clear view of the mistake you’d made—you’d laid the stitch nearly a full inch from where the edge of the gaping incision had started, sinking it into completely uninjured, healthy skin.

“Marc, stop, I’ll do it.”

You stopped him before he could hurt himself even more—he never had the patience to treat his wounds properly, but for ones that were this deep, it was smarter to close them by hand than wait several hours for his magical suit to heal it on its own.

He grunted in protest, but nonetheless allowed you to retrieve the needle from his hold and lean over his arm, tongue pinched between your teeth in concentration.

You were much more careful, this time, deliberate with each pull of the thread beneath his skin, finishing sewing shut the injury quickly. When you’d finally finished, you leaned forward to bite the end of the stitch and tear it away with your teeth. You reached for a piece of gauze, pouring a generous amount of saline solution onto the cloth in order to blot the excess blood from his skin.

You could feel his eyes on you the whole time, burning into your skull as if he was trying to read your mind. You sulked.

“I said I was sorry, Marc, I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

Your words were soft, and he could hear the guilt that was churning in your stomach. He didn’t flinch when you began dabbing at the drying blood around the wound.

“S’fine. But—what happened? It’s like—you just tapped out for a second, there. Did you even hear what I was saying to you?”

You frowned.

“No, I’m sorry. I just—got lost in thought.”

“Hell of a time for that to happen.”

He chuckled in an attempt to lighten the mood, but you didn’t laugh. Your eyes were still fixed on the skin of his arm, even though you’d successfully wiped away most of the remaining blood.

“I was just saying that—that I appreciate that you’re willing to do this for me.”

Your eyes darted to his face, surprised at the vulnerability he was displaying by expressing his gratitude.

“I mean—I never figured that when I’d stumbled onto your balcony all those months ago, beaten to all hell, that I’d meet someone who was willing to patch me up over and over again. Well—at least, before you stabbed me with a needle.”

Your eyes fell again, cheeks reddening at his jab. But he just laughed warmly, lifting his arm to rest his hand on your shoulder. Your bristled beneath his fingers, although his touch was nothing more than a friendly expression of appreciation.

“I’m just teasing you. But either way—just wanted to say thanks. Steven told me that I don’t say it enough, so...”

Now you laughed. It was more of a scoff, really, accompanied by the roll of your eyes as you reached for the knobs on the faucet, rinsing the blood from your fingers.

“Of course Steven made you.”

A lopsided grin found its way onto his face, and when you looked at him again, there was a twinkle in his eye. Your breath stuttered in your throat as you gazed at him—ebony curls spilling messily against his forehead, his lips quirked upwards at the corners, the fondness that was lingering beneath his brown irises. Was it possible? Could he really care about you the way you cared for him?

You turned away, standing and exiting the bathroom quickly before you could make a fool of yourself, face heating up at your own na��veté. Of course he didn’t feel that way about you. You were just—you. Only in the sanctuary of your imagination would he ever look at you and see anything beyond just a nurse playmate, or even maybe a friend.

You heard his heavy footsteps follow you back into your flat, where you wandered into the kitchen and retrieved a couple glasses.

“Do you mind if I—”

“Spare bed’s already made, I washed the sheets since last time you bled all over them and didn’t even tell me.”

You turned on the tap to fill the two cups with water. You were certain Marc hadn’t remembered to drink anything since his most recent escapade as a masked vigilante, and being around him always tended to make your mouth run dry.

“Thanks, sweetheart.”

You slid the glass of water across the countertop towards him, leaning back against the kitchen island to sip at your own. You watched him above the rim of your glass—the way his Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat as he took a large swig of the cool liquid, the way a stray droplet of water dribbled down his chin when he pulled the glass back, the way his hand came to wipe it away, the plush of his bottom lip supple beneath the swipe of his fingers.

She fell back against the mattress, breath temporarily stolen from her lungs as she felt the heat of his lips hungrily mouthing at any exposed skin it could reach—her jawline, her neck, her collarbone, the swell of her breasts. A soft whine fell from her mouth and Marc swiftly lifted himself back to her face to swallow the sound, tongue sinking into her mouth to taste her.

Her fingers clawed at the fabric of his t-shirt, twisting and yanking him impossibly closer, legs lifting to wrap around his waist to press the heat of her core against the growing tent in his pants. A low groan escaped his chest as he rutted against her, pulling back to take stock of the hazy fog of lust that clouded her eyes and the O-shape of her lips as she let out a shaky exhale.

“Fuck, Marc.”

She whispered, arms wrapping tightly around his shoulders, fingers digging into his shoulderblades.

“Want you—need you so bad.”

“You’re doing it again.”

You blinked once, then twice, finding Marc's dark gaze staring straight at you as his voice pulled you back to reality. Your brows lifted in horror when you realized you’d shamelessly been ogling at him, too engrossed in your thoughts to notice how long you’d been standing there.

“Shit, I—sorry.”

You rubbed at your eyes with your fingers, hoping that maybe if you pressed hard enough, the image of Marc’s body hovering above you would erase itself from your mind. It didn’t work.

You heard the clank of his now-empty glass as he set it down on the granite countertop, his arms crossing over his chest.

“Are you gonna tell me what’s wrong?”

You should be used to the rush of heat to your face by now—just being in Marc’s company caused you to blush uncontrollably, but still, the discomfort of your ruddy cheeks made your pulse quicken. Your gaze flickered down to your feet, eyes meeting the stupid fucking bunny slippers that you wore to accompany your fleece pajama bottoms. Fucking embarrassing.

“It’s nothing, Marc.”

You whispered quietly in response, although nausea was beginning to settle in the pit of your stomach. You were out of control—this man was driving you insane.

He studied you for a moment longer, eyes narrowed in suspicion, but when you didn’t look back up at him, he just sighed.

“Okay. I’ll just—leave you alone, then. Goodnight.”

There were tears pricking the back of your eyes. You wanted to ask him to stay, to come share your bed instead of the one in your guest room, to kiss his stupidly handsome face.

“Towels are folded in the bathroom for you, and there’s clothes in the wardrobe if you want to change.”

You said instead, turning to refill your glass of water in the sink behind you. If he heard you, he didn’t respond—you listened to his footsteps disappear down the hall before the door to the guest bedroom creaked shut with a quiet click. Your shoulders immediately slumped forward, eyes squeezed shut tightly in an effort to combat the desperate urge to break down.

Her eyes were full of detestation as she glared down at him, nostrils flared with rage. He wanted to shrink beneath her disapproval.

“Are you out of your fucking mind?”

The woman started, and in spite of her towering figure looking down at him, he couldn’t help but gawk at the way the moonlight framed her, her silhouette outlined by the subtle glow of the night sky behind her. She offered him a hand and he took it, allowing her to yank him to his feet without an ounce of gentleness.

“You’re lucky I was here, Lockley, or things would’ve ended differently.”

She hissed, dusting herself off as if to showcase the strenuous effort she had put into saving his ass. He scowled behind his mask, the blood from the wound on his forearm beginning to soak through the bandages of his suit, tingeing the cream-colored fabric a dark crimson.

“I don’t need your help, estrellita. I was handling it.”

She scoffed as he turned on his heel to stomp away, crossing her arms tightly over her chest.

“Yeah, sure looked like you were handling it—why didn’t you call me? Nut had to drag me out of bed so you didn’t get yourself killed. Didn’t the old bird tell you we were together on this?”

He scowled, eyes narrowed in contempt.

“Yeah, he did, and I said no. We are not partners. We’re hardly even friends.”

He regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth, the way her face fell and her brows creased causing a pang of guilt to stab through his already-sore chest. He sighed.

“Estrellita, I didn’t mean—”

“Why do you push me away?”

She interrupted, and Jake was taken aback by the question.

“What do you mean?”

“You need me, Jake. We need each other. I’m just—I just want to help you, why won’t you let me help you?”

He didn’t respond, just stared at her as her eyes flooded with tears. At his silence, she shook her head, turning away to stare up into the star-filled sky.

“We’re supposed to be a team, Moon Knight. The stars and the moon—you can’t have one without the other.”

He could see the reflection of the crescent-shaped moon in her glassy eyes, the soft glow painting her face with silvery beams of light.

You’d left the balcony door wide open—your routine was fairly habitual, now. A mug of warm tea was cradled in your fingers as you curled up in the wicker chair, eyes flitting across the scattered stars that were visible from your tiny apartment complex.

You watched him sit down beside you in your periphery, the movement to your left pulling you from your reverie. He reached for the glass of bourbon you'd set out on the table in front of him.

You sat in silence for awhile, finding comfort in the man’s quiet presence. You liked that about Jake—you never felt like you had to fill the air with meaningless conversation. He was perfectly content to just enjoy your company, the same as you enjoyed his.

You heard the ice in his glass clink against the side as he took a sip.

“Are you going to tell them?”

Neither of you looked at each other when he spoke—the question was spoken out into the world, not really directed towards you, although you knew what he meant.

Jake was too fucking perceptive for his own good. Even when he was silent, he was always there, watching, listening, observing—even if the other alters were oblivious to the yearning that was thinly veiled within your eyes, he certainly wasn’t. You sighed.

“No.”

He hummed in acknowledgement, but something about his lack of verbal response bothered you, itching at the back of your brain. You turned to scowl at him.

“What?”

Jake hardly spared you a glance, barely quirking a brow at your emotionally-charged reaction as he shook his head.

“Nothing. I didn’t say anything.”

“Exactly.”

You glared, fingers anxiously tapping at the rim of your mug. The contours of Jake’s face were sharp in the dim light of the moon, features accentuated by the shadows. He finally turned to look at you.

“You know what I think, nena. You’re only hurting yourself. And your constant...daydreaming. It’s not as subtle as it once was. You—You should talk to them. Or me.”

The last bit of his proposal caught you off guard. His eyes had already drifted elsewhere when he said it, staring into his half-empty glass of liquor, but your brows lifted in surprise.

“I—you?”

He glowered playfully.

“Don’t sound so surprised, nena. I always listen to you.”

That was true. Some of your fondest memories with Jake were of late nights spent out on your balcony, getting drunk on cheap wine and sharing stories.

“Yeah, you’re good at listening, but not so much the talking part.”

Jake shrugged, although he nodded in understanding. He was all too aware of his own weaknesses.

You took a sip of your chamomile tea, letting its warmth combat the chill of the evening air.

“Why won’t you tell me?”

You asked quietly, and even without elaborating, Jake knew what you were referring to. He sighed, tossing back the last of his bourbon before setting it on the small table between you, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees.

“I’ve told you before. It’s not my place. I know what they think, but not what they feel.”

You huffed quietly, although deep down, you knew he was right. It wasn’t his place to share how Marc or Steven felt about you. You sort of admired the way he was so strict in his moral obligations—especially considering the lengths you were willing to go in order to change his mind.

Jake stiffened when he felt your hand rest on his bicep, fingers wrapping around it and squeezing lightly.

“But what about how you feel?”

His jaw rippled, and you felt the muscle beneath your fingers tense at your coy words. You could feel the restraint within him as he sat up abruptly, pulling away so his arm fell from your grasp. He still didn’t look at you.

“It doesn’t matter how I feel, nena. Not until you talk to Marc. He—you were his first. I’m not going jeopardize your relationship with him until he knows the truth.”

Anger flared within you.

“I’m not his. I don’t belong to anyone. My choices are my own.”

Jake flinched, eyes softening as they flickered over to you.

“You’re right, I’m sorry—I didn’t mean it like that. I just—you have to understand. He—I can’t go behind his back like this. Yo no sería capaz de vivir conmigo mismo.”

“But you can’t even tell me if he feels the same way?”

You asked, and he could hear the pain in your voice as your tone wavered slightly. You’d had this conversation many times before, but things had been escalating recently—perhaps because it was getting increasingly difficult for you to be content in the reality you lived in.

Jake’s eyes were full of sympathy as he regarded you.

“No, nena. I’m sorry.”

You turned away.

“But you need to tell him. And Steven, too. They deserve to know. And so do you.”

You heard his weight shift as he stood to head back to bed, having spent too much time keeping the body awake—he didn’t want his alters to grow suspicious at the exhaustion when they woke in the morning.

“What if he breaks my heart?”

He paused in the threshold on the doorway, glancing back at you when he heard the thickness in your throat as your eyes welled with tears.

“What if he doesn’t feel the same way?”

Jake pursed his lips, fists clenching and unclenching at his sides as he pondered his response. Finally, he released a long sigh.

“I don’t think you have to worry about that, nena. He’d be crazy not to.”

The smell of cinnamon wafted down the hallway as Steven rose from his slumber. There was a gentle melody floating in the air as he pulled himself from the bed, rubbing sleep from his eyes, his bare feet padding along the tiled floor towards the source of the noise.

She was singing quietly to herself, back towards him as she chopped the fresh strawberries into fourths. He couldn’t help but smile at the domesticity of it all—the woman he loved, that he fought beside, making breakfast for them to share. His heart felt whole.

He sidled up behind her, arms wrapping around her waist and his body pressing flush against her back. He placed a kiss to the exposed skin of her neck, her hair pulled up in a sloppy updo.

“G’mornin’, darling.”

He hummed sleepily, and he felt her chest rumble with an airy giggle as she leaned into his touch.

“Hi, handsome. Sleep okay?”

He reached over her shoulder to steal a strawberry from the cutting board, taking a bite of the succulent fruit before offering the other half to her by pressing it to her lips. She smiled and happily accepted his offering.

“Would’ve slept even better if I’d woken up to your face beside me.”

She threw her head back, leaning against his chest as she laughed brightly—his favorite sound.

“Oh, boohoo. Sorry for getting up early to make you breakfast.”

She teased, and Steven pressed his face into her hair, the smell of her coconut shampoo enticing him. His arms reached to rest on the countertop to either side of her, successfully caging her in. He heard her breath hitch as the movement of the knife in her hand stalled, his body pressing up more firmly against her—enough so that she could feel the hardness of his manhood against the flesh of her ass.

“The strawberries are sweet, darling, but I’d rather have something even sweeter for breakfast this mornin’, yeah?”

“G’mornin’, darling.”

The knife fumbled in your grasp and the blade slipped across your fingers, slicing a divot in the tender flesh between your thumb and forefinger.

“Steven! Shit!”

You immediately dropped the knife and rushed towards the sink, rinsing your wound under the cold water to inspect the damage and dilute the blood.

“Oh, Gods, m’so sorry, love—are you alright?”

You could feel his body creeping up behind you, an arm reaching around to grab yours in an attempt to investigate the source of your discomfort. The warmth of his presence against your back startled you, a fierce blush rising to your cheeks as you reached for a towel and sidestepped, trying to put as much distance between the two of you as possible.

“It’s—I’m fine. It’s just a tiny cut, it’s no big deal.”

You brushed it off, although your palm was beginning to throb. You pulled the washcloth away from the afflicted area, finding it soaked with a generous amount of your blood.

“Looks like it hurts. Can I—may I help you with it?”

There was trepidation in his big brown eyes, obviously put off by the hastiness with which you’d pulled away from him. You surrendered yourself, offering a sigh and a slow nod.

“Yeah. Thanks.”

You found yourself in a similar position to the previous night, although this time, the roles were reversed—and your wound was from an unfortunate kitchen incident, not a scuffle with a group of evil antique smugglers.

Steven’s bottom lip was pulled between his teeth as he secured a piece of gauze on the injury with medical tape, winding it around your palm so it fit snugly against the area. His hands were nimble and his touch was painfully gentle, the pads of his fingers just barely skimming over your skin in an effort to prevent you from more discomfort. A chill crept up your spine at the close proximity.

He looked rather satisfied with himself when he’d finished, shoving the medical supplies back into the bin beneath your sink that you had specially packed for him.

“There we are—good as new.”

He smiled cheerily at you, and it was so contagious that you couldn’t help but grin back at him. Your mind briefly darted back to your conversation with Jake the night before; then the unholy thoughts you’d been having this morning when Steven had snuck up on you. Gods, you really were getting out of control...

Steven led you from the bathroom and you returned to your post, rinsing the knife and the sliced strawberries to ensure they weren’t contaminated. You stepped over to the stove to check the steel-cut oatmeal that had been simmering—Steven’s favorite. You gave it a few good stirs before deciding that it was finished, filling up two bowls with generous servings and sprinkling the top with strawberries, brown sugar, and a pinch of cinnamon. Steven was already seated at you breakfast bar when you turned to offer him his meal.

“Bon apétit.”

You flourished playfully, passing the bowl in front of him as you seated yourself on the stool across the way. His eyes crinkled with appreciation when he smiled.

“Oh, it smells bloody lovely. Thank you, darling.”

He always called you that, you rationalized. It was nothing more than a term of endearment—a friendly pet name.

You ate in silence for awhile, save for the sound of silverware clinking against porcelain and the birds chirping from your open window. Your eyes couldn’t help but follow him as he slipped a strawberry past his lips, something reminiscent of a moan escaping him as he savored the flavor of the fruit. Your face flushed bright red.

“Yes, darling—just like that, please.”

He was whimpering beneath her, pupils blown wide as he gazed up at her from where she straddled him, sliding her naked and exposed core over his boxer-clad erection.

“You wanna be inside me, Steven?”

She cooed, leaning forward to kiss along his stubbled jawline, and he moaned wantonly, hips rutting up against her.

“Gods, yes, love, please, I can’t—”

“S’there somethin’ on my face?”

Panic flooded you at the bewildered expression on Steven’s face, his hand coming up to wipe at his mouth in case you'd been gawking at some remnants of food on the corners of his lips.

You shook your head, eyes wide and cheeks already turning pink.

“I—No, no, there’s not, I—sorry. I was just—just thinking.”

He gave you a brief scrutinizing look before shrugging and diving back into the remainder of his oatmeal.

“What were you thinkin’ about?”

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

“Oh, it’s—nothing, really. Sometimes I just—space out, I guess.”

You offered sheepishly, toying with the last few bites of your food with your spoon—your appetite was suddenly gone.

“You seem to do that a lot, yeah? S’everything alright?”

“Yes.”

You answered him a bit too quickly, hastily jumping to end the conversation before it even began. His brows furrowed, watching as you quickly grabbed both bowls to busy yourself with cleaning up.

He wasn’t quite satisfied with your answer—in fact, it only served to startle him more. He watched you carefully as you began to viciously scrub at the blue porcelain bowls with a sponge.

“Are you...sure? I’m just—you’re worryin’ me a bit, yeah? And with last night, with Marc—if somethin’s the matter, you know you can always talk to us, ‘lright?”

You squeezed your eyes shut, forcing yourself to take in a slow, careful breath in an effort to soothe your frazzled nerves.

“Yeah, I know, Steven—thank you. But—but everything’s just fine, really.”

She’s lying.

Steven was surprised to hear Jake’s voice echo from the back of the headspace—it wasn’t often that he offered internal commentary to any conversations outside of when he was fronting.

And how do you know that?

Marc quipped back in his mind—Steven hated when they argued in the headspace, especially when he was the one in control of the body. His brain felt too full and it was easy for him to get overstimulated.

What—you think she’s telling the truth, jefe?

Marc didn’t respond, and Steven was silently grateful that their quarrel had ended quickly. Still, he knew his alters were correct—you definitely weren’t ‘just fine.’

But the last thing he wanted to do was push you away, especially since it already felt like you were putting up a wall between you, keeping him at arm’s length.

He let out a long sigh, standing up from the bar to get ready to depart for his shift at the museum.

“Well, thank you for brekky, love, and for—everything else.”

You startled when you turned, finding him standing directly behind you, pulling you into his warm embrace without any due warning. God, why was he so fucking sweet? Guilt gnawed away are your insides—Jake was right. He really did deserve to know the truth, why you were spending more time living in your fantasyland than grounded in reality—but surely it’d scare him off. Marc, too.

Perhaps it was just better to keep imagining what it would be like to be loved by them—at least without being outright rejected, there would always be that small sliver of hope gleaming in the back of your mind, that tiny semblance of ‘what if’ that you let linger.

You melted into his arms, face pressed into his shoulder.

“Anytime, Steven, really. It’s my pleasure.”

There was always a smile on her face when they departed—even if their time away from each other was difficult, she knew she could look forward to the next time they'd see each other. The way his big brown eyes would light up with elation when he saw her, like an overexcited puppy reuniting with its owner.

The grin remained on her face, still, after he’d kissed her goodbye and they parted ways. She hummed softly to herself as she journeyed down the hallway to remake the bed and tidy up the room.

He never did remember to tuck in the blankets. She laughed quietly to herself and she entered the room, filled with the distinctive cypress scent of him. She reached to fluff the pillows—

Oh. That shouldn’t be there, should it?

Your fingers wrapped around the small white trinket, strung along on a leather braided band. You lifted it up to your face to inspect it more closely—it was an pendant carved from ivory, shaped like a cross with a loop at the top. An ankh—the key of life—you recalled, as Steven had once taught you. There was a certain texture that ran along the sides, and only when you brought the object right up to your nose were you able to see that there was a teeny tiny pattern etched into the surface. Hieroglyphics.

Shit, you realized. This looked like something that would be in the museum Steven worked at—although it looked a bit too high quality to be sold in the gift shop. Nonetheless, you realized that it must’ve slipped from his pocket while he was getting dressed. What if it was important?

You wandered back to the kitchen and tried calling his cell, once, then twice, without receiving an answer. He was probably already being berated by Donna—oh, well. The museum was on your way to work anyhow, just one bus stop before the café that you worked at. You could swing by and give it to him before your shift.

You glanced down at your phone to shoot him a quick text.

hey, you forgot something here i’ll drop it off for you in a bit x

It was only when you were strolling down the street with the pendant strung around your neck that a thrill of excitement ran up your spine.

What if this was from his latest mission?

It wasn’t something you’d considered before, but now that you thought about it, it seemed like the likeliest explanation. The boys didn’t tell you much about their escapades as the masked lunar vigilante, save for the vague explanations about the injuries they asked you to patch up—but you knew enough to be two-and-two together. This must be the ancient artifact he had been sent to retrieve on Khonshu’s behalf the previous night.

You suppressed a smile by sucking your bottom lip between your teeth, filled with giddiness. You were actually helping.

“Where is it?”

A venomous voice seethed, peering down at the crumpled form of the man at his feet. Marc was hunched over, arms chained behind his back, blood from his abdomen beginning to soak through the white fabric of his suit. His mouth tasted like copper, teeth coated in the sticky red substance as a gruff hand came to harshly grip his jaw, forcing his eyes upward. He sneered.

“I told you. I don’t know.”

Another punch collided with his face, this time connecting with the bridge of his nose and sending him careening backwards, landing against the concrete with a grunt.

“You’re full of shit. We know it was you at the burial site, Spector. We have eyewitnesses. You’re the only person in the world who could have possibly taken it.”

To the man's utter surprise, Marc Spector began to laugh. It was a wet sound, his mask receding so he could spit out a wad of crimson-tinted bile as he chuckled wolfishly, his lips curling up into a snarl. The perpetrator felt fear shoot through him at the look on his face.

“You’re wrong, actually. See, I was there.”

He clarified, eyes glinting dangerously. His attacker stumbled backwards as a harsh silver light blinded him briefly, and when his vision cleared, the Moon Knight had risen to his feet, freed from his shackles.

“I just wasn’t alone.”

The hair on the back of his neck prickled as he slowly turned around, met face to face with intense glare of a woman, her eyes still glowing with residual power. She tilted her head at him condescendingly, before lifting her right hand—the white ankh charm was dangling from her fingertips as she smiled coyly up at him.

“Looking for this?”

She cooed, smirking innocently, and before the man could even blink, she had pounced, wrestling him to the floor and pressing his face down against the cold flooring, cheek smushed against the pavement. She straddled his back, using her weight to hold him still while her fingers made a curling motion in the air—a rope of pure silvery light materialized with the sweep of her hand, binding the man’s hands behind his back with tendrils of starlight.

Her partner was dealing with the other two lackeys, one already laid out on the ground and the other lifted in the air by his neck, one of Marc’s gloved hands raising him up with his fingers pressing beneath his jaw.

When he stopped resisting, Marc let his body collapse to the floor in a heap before he turned back to face the woman, whose chest was rising and falling with heavy breaths. Even after a fight, she somehow appeared graceful and collected—she reached upward and pulled a stray hair from her eyes, tucking it back into it’s place beneath her star-laden headdress. Their eyes met briefly.

“Thanks.”

Marc swallowed, his head bowed low in embarrassment. He waited for the jab to come—‘I told you so.’ He deserved it, really. It was stupid to come in alone.

Instead, he was startled when she approached him softly, her eyes glittering as she lifted her hand to gently brush over his cheekbone, her smile gentle and kind.

“I’ll always have your back. You know that, right?”

He looked away, ridden with guilt and remorse, but she urged his eyes back to her with the nudge of her fingers.

“Marc. I mean it.”

He felt tears stinging the back of his eyes as he sniffed, trying to play off his emotions with fabricated nonchalance.

“Yeah, I know.”

She nodded once, withdrawing her hand from his face before lifting the ancient artifact up to his face, waving it for emphasis.

“We should probably get this to the old bird, then, huh?”

Her head snapped to the side at the gust of wind that abruptly passed them, her eyes trailing up the heavenly form of the aforementioned deity, the slope of his ivory beak towering above her. She swallowed—she’d never actually seen him before, only heard of him in passing from his Avatar. Khonshu.

Time seemed to freeze, briefly, as her breath slowly made its way back to her lungs. The skeletal bird tilted his domineering skull downward, staring her down with intensity.

“Wake up, little star.”

Her brows furrowed, her jaw dropping to reply, but he interrupted.

“You are not a part of this. You’re going to get yourself killed.”

Her head started to swim, the image in front of her turning hazy as her vision began to blur. She blinked profusely. This isn’t a part of the script, this isn’t supposed to happen—

“Wake up!”

With a jolt, you were pulled from your daydream—just in time for a hand to slip over your mouth to muffle your scream before everything went dark.

When your eyes blinked open, heavy with exhaustion, you were staring up at the white ceiling of your bedroom. You made a move to sit up, but the movement caused a throbbing pain to bloom in the back of your skull, forcing you back down against the pillows as a groan of discomfort fell from your lips. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to regain your bearings, when a set of heavy footsteps grabbed your attention from the hallway.

He faltered in the doorway when he made eye contact with you, his dark brows furrowed heavily with concern, dark purple bags settled beneath his lower lashes. When his initial shock wore off, his jaw set as he approached you slowly, a glass of tap water clutched in his left hand. He perched carefully on the edge of the bed, mindful not the nudge you.

“Marc?”

You croaked, your throat hoarse and dry, and he wordlessly reached forward, propping you further up onto the pillows before lifting the glass to your lips.

“Drink.”

He said sternly, pressing the rim to your mouth, and you obliged blindly, letting him tip the contents of the cup back into your mouth as you took slow, tentative sips. When he was satisfied with your water intake, he pulled the glass away and set it on the bedside table, the movement punctuated by a heavy sigh. Your eyes followed him carefully, brows knit together in confusion.

“I—what happened?”

You asked slowly, sitting yourself upward just a bit more. The pain in your head was lessening, although their was still a dull ache lingering at the back of your neck. You could see his jaw ripple again as he clenched his teeth, his body facing the door and his eyes focused on the wall across from him. You studied his profile carefully before he ran a tired hand down his face, rubbing at his eyes with his fingers.

“What do you remember?”

He prompted, and you hesitated, thinking back on the last thing you recalled. You remembered leaving for work, and finding the little white pendant you were planning on returning—and you remember getting lost in another fantasy before a hand clamped around your mouth and—

“Was I kidnapped?”

You asked incredulously, eyes blowing wide with realization as you recalled the sensation of a strong grasp around your face and neck before your fell unconscious. You watched his lip twitch with frustration.

“No. Well—yes. But you, I mean—what the fuck were you thinking?”

He finally turned to look at you, and when he did, you immediately wanted to shrink away and evaporate. His eyes were fiery, burning red hot with fury, the disapproving expression on his face striking something deep in your chest.

“What do you mean?”

You asked quietly, feeling tears begin to prick at your eyes, and Marc stood up, running a hand through his unruly curls as he took in a deep breath, obviously attempting to maintain some semblance of composure.

“You almost got yourself killed—bringing that charm with you, parading it around like a trophy.”

“I didn’t know, Marc, I just—”

“It doesn’t matter. I can’t let you get wrapped up in all of this—fuck, if I hadn’t been there...”

His back was towards you, but you could see the tension in his shoulders, his body heaving with heavy panting breaths. You felt small, like a child being reprimanded. You felt your eyes flood with tears.

“I was just trying to help.”

“Yeah, well, don’t.”

His voice was firm and harsh as he snapped over his shoulder at you, glaring.

“You can’t help. You’re not a part of this.”

You felt your heart hammering in your chest, desperation clawing inside of you as you threw back the blankets, swinging your legs off the side of the mattress so you could approach him.

“But maybe I can, Marc, if you’d just give me a chance, if you’d let me—”

“Stop!”

He whipped around to face you, voice louder than you'd ever heard it before. He was yelling, towering over you as he snarled, fuming.

“Just stop. If you keep this up, you’re gonna get yourself and a lot of other people hurt. You’re not a fucking Avatar—”

“You don’t think I know that?”

Marc flinched when you matched his intensity, the tears falling down your cheeks a stark contrast from the sheer anger that dominated your expression.

“You don’t think I realize that? Or think about it every goddamn night when I have to sit here, alone, wondering if you’re gonna show up, or if you’re somewhere dead and I can’t do anything but wait.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, attempting to swallow your tears down as you broke down in front of the man, your internal conflict reaching a boiling point and spewing out of you without warning.

“You have no idea how many times I’ve wished I could be out there with you, doing something, helping, anything—how often I imagine what it would be like if I wasn’t fucking useless, if I was actually a part of—”

“What did you just say?”

Your eyes snapped open, and your anger faltered when you saw the look of pure horror on Marc’s face, his skin looking several shades paler than it had before. Your mind was reeling, trying to look back on what you said, what your mistake had been, but he quickly clarified for you.

“Did you just—are you saying you wish you were an Avatar?”

His body was rigid, his expression suddenly stony and impenetrable as he looked down at you, offering a barely perceptible shake of his head as he grimaced.

“How could you—how could you possibly want that? Why would you ever—”

You could see his eyes turn glassy as he turned away, his chest beginning to heave again as he ran both of his hands through his hair anxiously, his gaze suddenly appearing frenzied. His words were laced with something adjacent to betrayal.

“You have no idea what—what I wouldn’t give to go back to my life before all of this, to—to not carry this weight, to not—I fucking kill people, do you not understand that? I’m a monster, because my life is fucking controlled by a monster, and you wish you were like me? You wanna suffer like this?”

“At least we’d be suffering together.”

It was barely more than a whisper, your addition, but Marc caught it. You couldn’t bear to look at him anymore—you turned and sat back on the bed, folding your hands in your lap and staring down at your fingers as your heart finally poured out of your chest.

“I don’t know what else I could do, Marc. I don’t know any other way to get you to actually see me.”

“See you?”

He asked incredulously, face marred with confusion, and your lip quivered as you looked anywhere but at him, awaiting his rejection as you spoke.

“I just—all I’ve ever wanted was to be able to help you. To—for you to trust me, for you to—to care about me, and—and the only scenario I can actually imagine you wanting me is if I’m not myself, I’m a version of myself that’s actually strong and capable and—”

You stifled a sob, your face scrunching up as your arms wrapped around yourself in a protective stance, huddling inward as you cried.

“—I don’t know what I’m trying to say, but I just—I want to be more than I am because—because I want to matter to you, Marc, but I know that won’t happen because I’m just—I’m just me.”

Marc fell silent. Your heart was hammering in your chest as you squeezed your bleary eyes shut, forcing yourself to take slow, deliberate inhales despite your desire to hyperventilate. You felt like the room was closing in on you, the walls shrinking and shrinking and you wished the space would swallow you whole.

“What have I done to ever make you think you don’t matter to me?”

His voice was soft and quiet, and when you blinked your tear-filled eyes open, he was staring at you, a look of genuine hurt on his chiseled features. You stuttered.

“I—what?”

“I—”

You watched his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed thickly.

“Why would you ever think that I don’t care about you? That you have to—to be someone else for that to happen?”

He sounded broken, his big brown eyes wide and imploring, and the sight made your chest feel tight. You pressed the butts of your palms into your eyes.

“I don’t know, Marc. You’re—you’re a fuckin’ superpowered badass who was chosen by an ancient Egyptian god to beat up monsters and go on these epic missions, and—and how can I even compete with that? I don’t even understand why you waste your time with me.”

“Why do you keep saying things like that?”

You startled when he took a few hulking steps towards you, his brows creasing in a look of frustration.

“If you’re so convinced that I’m some superior being to you—which I’m not—then rationalize that, for me. Why would I keep coming back if I didn’t care about you?”

Confusion flashed across your face as you contemplated his question.

“Because—because I patch you up when you get hurt, and I—and I take care of you. You only come here when you need something—”

“But that’s not true.”

He insisted, sounding exasperated with your obstinance.

“I have a magic suit of armor that heals me, I don’t even need you to stitch me back together—”

“But you told me—”

“Well, I lied.”

He snapped, his arms crossing over his chest, and you felt a foreign feeling flutter in the pit of your stomach as his hands came up to rub at his jaw—a nervous habit.

“It was an excuse, and honestly, not even a very convincing one. An excuse to see you.”

Your head was starting to pound again, a dull ache blooming behind your eyes as your mind continued to reel. It didn’t make any sense.

“But you—you never needed an excuse. I would’ve dropped everything for you, Marc—for all three of you.”

“I know.”

He nodded sadly, his face pained as he flinched at your words.

“And that’s what’s so bad about all of this. I shouldn’t have—you shouldn’t feel that way about me. I’m—it’s dangerous. I’ve been trying so hard to push you away because if something happens to you, if you get hurt—that’s on me. And I don’t know what I’d do with myself if—”

“I’m a big girl, Marc.”

You defended, and he seemed impressed with the conviction of your tone.

“You’ve never been anything but honest about the kind of life you live, the kind of things you do—if that scared me, you wouldn’t be standing here right now. I made that choice for myself.”

He looked like he wanted to argue, his lips parting to scold you or deny your claims, but there was resolve in his eyes. You watched as he slowly walked towards the bed, slumping into a seated position beside you, utterly defeated.

“I know.”

It was difficult for you to focus with the proximity of your bodies. He’d left a generous gap between the two of you, but his legs were spread wide as he leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees, and your legs were almost touching. It was unbearable.

“I always thought you were taking advantage of me.”

You spoke smally, a bit ashamed and hesitant to admit the truth, and you saw Marc’s shoulders tense before he hung his head low, a deep sigh coming from his chest.

“Yeah. Jake told me that you might be feeling that way.”

Your eyes darted to his face, taken completely by surprise.

“He—he did?”

Marc chuckled ruefully, scoffing a bit at his alter.

“And I never fuckin’ listened. Told me I needed to come clean—be honest about how I feel, or else I’ll just keep hurting you more—”

“I didn’t realize he’d actually tried to talk to you about it.”

Marc’s brows furrowed.

“Wait, are you—did you tell him that?”

You blushed, feeling somewhat guilty as you nodded. You weren’t proud of the fact that you’d been talking about Marc and Steven behind their backs to their other alter.

“Why did—why didn’t you just talk to me?”

Marc leaned towards you, trying to catch your gaze with his, but you quickly looked forward again, eyes focusing in on your shaky hands.

“I didn’t know if—I never had to question things with Jake. He’s never been shy about how he feels about me.”

“Jake’s never been shy about anything in his entire goddamn life.”

You actually giggled at that, Marc’s tone sour and somewhat envious, but a soft smile easily curled on his lips at the sound of your laughter. When your amusement faded slightly, your breath caught in your throat when you felt a warm hand fall atop your knee, thumb rubbing over the flesh gently. You stared at the place where his skin met yours, heat flushing your cheeks.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. If I would’ve known sooner—if he’d have told me—”

You shook your head quickly, dismissing his apology.

“No, don’t. I made him promise me he wouldn’t tell you. And—and the reason I didn’t say anything is, well—he would never tell me if you felt the same, so I didn’t—I just kind of assumed you didn’t.”

“I don’t understand why you think so little of yourself.”

His fingers gripped your knee a bit more firmly, the heat of his hand traveling upwards despite your attempts to stop it.

“You really think—thought the only way I’d want you is if you were an Avatar?”

You laughed wetly, swiping the last of your tears from beneath your eyes as you shook your head abashedly.

“When you say it out loud, it sounds so fucking stupid.”

“Hey, it’s not stupid.”

He corrected, and you froze when you felt his hand lift from your knee to reach towards your face, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear so he could see you more clearly. His fingers slipped beneath your jaw and gently coaxed your head to face him. You forgot how to breathe.

“It’s just not true.”

“Baby, I’ve wanted you since the day I met you, Avatar or not.”

She let out a quiet gasp at his confession, face lighting up with delight as he surged forward and captured her lips with his own, whimpering against her mouth as his arms encircled her body. He guided her back towards the bed, laying her out beneath him, looking absolutely heavenly, truly ravishing, and the sight made him ravenous as he worshipped her, starting by dragging his tongue—

“Hey. Where’d you go?”

It was only a brief moment of wistfulness, your daydream, but Marc saw the way your eyes misted and filled with a faraway look. He let his fingers dance across the softness of your neck before reaching to cradle your jaw in his hand, fingers threading into the hair behind your left ear.

You blinked away your reverie, trying to ground yourself in the present regardless of how desperately you wanted to fantasize about how much you craved him, how much you just wished he wanted you—

“Sorry.”

You uttered, voice barely above a whisper, and you blinked up at him through your wet lashes, doe-eyed. Your shame quickly melted away into something entirely different when you saw the ghost of a smile flicker over his lips.

“What were you thinking about?”

Your breathing stuttered, and you opened your mouth to speak but he cut you off quickly, the timbre of his voice low and gravelly.

“You can tell me, sweetheart. Whatever it was, whatever you want—I’ll give it to you.”

It all became too much too quickly—the swirling heat of desire coiling lowly in your abdomen, the warmth of his exhales across your face, the roughness of his hands against the soft skin of your cheek, the almost taunting gleam in his dark eyes. His promise emboldened you, and without much thought, you surged forward and captured his lips in your own, whimpering against his mouth as your arms encircled his body.

He was quick to meet your pace, his free arm twisting to wrap around your lower back so he could pull you into his lap, one of your hands sinking into his brown curls and the other digging into his right shoulder. You heard him groan into your lips and you took the opportunity to sink your tongue into his mouth, deepening the kiss as you pressed your body flush against him, desperately seeking as much closeness as possible.

When his lips left yours and began to trail down your jaw and throat, you were pulled out of your stupor.

“Wait—wait.”

You whispered, fingers tugging at his curls so you could see his face. His brows furrowed in concern as he looked at you with worried eyes, his lips dewy and kiss-swollen.

“What’s wrong?”

He asked carefully, his voice gruff but still attentive, and you lifted both hands to cradle his face, thumbs sweeping over his cheekbones as you drank in his features, studying his face carefully.

“I just—”

You let out a shaky exhale, leaning forward to rest your forehead against his.

“I need to know that this is real. That you’re—that this is all real.”

He pulled away from you slightly, grinning somewhat wolfishly at you.

“This is real, baby—does it feel real?”

You nodded eagerly, your lips still tingling from the severity of his kisses, and he pulled you in for another one, his touch deliciously bruising.

When he pulled away again, you felt his fingers trace down your arm before he grabbed your hand in his. Your brows furrowed in confusion as he guided your grasp between your bodies, but your hips jolted when he pressed your hand into the hardness of his bulge in his jeans. You whimpered at the feeling, fingers curling around his length to squeeze him. His lashes fluttered.

“Yeah, baby—you feel what you do to me? That’s fuckin’ real.”

You felt yourself grow increasingly desperate at his words, fingers curling into the hem of his shirt and yanking it over his head with abandon. He seemed in tune with your own neediness because pretty soon, clothes were being ripped off and haphazardly tossed around the room, lips meeting newly-exposed skin at every opportunity.

You were laid out beneath him, his body slotted between your parted legs as he hovered over you, pumping his cock languidly as he gazed down at you with hooded eyes.

“I’ve pictured this, too, you know.”

You felt a small smile find your face.

“Really?”

He bit his lip, the pace of his hand jerking his length speeding up just slightly.

“Oh, fuck yeah, baby. You’re even more beautiful than I ever imagined.”

His sweet compliment was a stark contrast to the depravity of the current situation, but you could hear the sincerity in his words. You smiled up at him, reaching forward to take his cock in your grasp and line him up with your awaiting entrance.

“And you’re even bigger than I ever imagined.”

You purred, watching his eyes flash with pride as he leaned forward to brush the tip of his cock through your sopping folds, causing you to mewl unsurepetitiously.

“Please, Marc, shit—I can’t wait anymore, please.”

He grinned wickedly down at you, and before you could even take a breath, he was plunging into you with force, his cock sheathing itself fully within the softness of your cunt.

He choked above you, his arm slamming down on the mattress beside your head for support, his fist curling into the sheets.

“Jesus fuck, you’re tight.”

He breathed out, his expression almost pained with just how perfectly your walls were squeezing him.

The sudden intrusion was a startling sensation, but the burn of the stretch was quickly evolving into an addictive sting of pleasure.

“Oh, God, yes—move, Marc, please.”

You begged, brows furrowed deeply, and Marc quickly obliged, starting a rapid pace as he hammered into you, his hips snapping forward with jarring strength. The sound of slapping skin echoed within the room and only served to add to your arousal, the noises leaving your lips sinful and completely involuntary.

“Fuck yeah, baby—is this what you wanted? This what you’ve been daydreaming about, huh? My cock filling you up?”

You moaned wantonly, back arching at Marc’s words. His curls were falling across his forehead, dampened with sweat, and you reached up to grip his shoulders for support, fingernails digging into the carved muscle.

“Yes, fuck, yes—so good, Marc, so fucking good—”

He reached down and lifted your legs to wrap around his waist, forcing his cock even deeper inside of you, the new angle earning a sharp cry. Your walls were fluttering around him.

“Yeah, you wanna cum, baby? You wanna cum on my cock?” He hand reached between your bodies to thumb at your clit, and the added stimulation sent you suddenly toppling over the edge into your orgasm, your eyes rolling back into your head as you let out a long, drawn-out moan.

“Yeah, attagirl—fuck yeah.”

Your walls were clamping down on him, pulsing rhythmically over the ridges of his cock, and he felt his release rapidly approaching.

“You want my cum, baby?”

You nodded frantically at him, eyes wild with desperation, and Marc groaned as his pace began to stutter.

“Where, baby? Where do you want it?”

You fingers sank further into the flesh of his shoulders.

“Mouth—want you to cum in my mouth.”

Your request alone was enough to send him hurtling over the edge.

“Oh, shit, gonna cum—”

He pulled out of you quickly, hand reaching down to fervidly fist at his cock as he crawled forward to straddle your stomach on his knees—you eagerly leaned forward just in time as his balls drew up tight, his cum shooting straight across your awaiting tongue as you opened your mouth wide for him.

“Oh, baby—fuuuuckkk—”

His hips thrusted into his fist with each pump of cum that escaped him, some shooting above your lip and dribbling down your chin. He grunted harshly as he tapped the tip of his cock over your tongue, coating the head in his release that had pooled within your mouth. You quickly closed your lips around him and suckled the tip into your mouth, swallowing all of his seed as you swirled your tongue around his length.

He let out a low groan before he finally reached forward to tug you off of him, collapsing onto the mattress beside you heavily.

You both caught your breath for a few moments, coming back down to Earth after your intense climaxes.

It was Marc who broke the silence first, a deep chuckle coming from his chest.

“If this is what you’re constantly daydreaming about, then fuck—you gotta tell me. I will make every goddamned one come true.”

Your laughter matched his own as he reached over to wrap an arm around you, pulling you towards the warmth of his body comfortingly. Your smile quickly faded as the heat of the moment made way for reality.

“Was this—I mean, this wasn’t just—just a one-time thing... right?”

Marc pressed a kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering along your hairline.

“No, baby. Besides—Jake and Steven haven’t even gotten their turns with you.”

His attempt at a joke fell flat.

“That’s not what I mean.”

You said quietly, and Marc sighed, letting his head rest atop yours as he held you close.

“Sorry. I know what you meant, but still, the answer’s no. Kinda hoping this is an all-the-time thing.”

Now, you laughed, and he swore it was his favorite sound in the entire world.

You had a brief conversation with Steven about your mutual feelings, later—although he was a stuttering mess, his smile was wide and eyes were bright with elation when he finally kissed you. He fell asleep holding you close to him, and you listened to his breathing slow as you began to doze off beside him.

Just when you were about to fall asleep, his arms around you squeezed tighter.

“Told you so.”

Jake’s voice taunted jokingly, and you lifted a fist to punch his shoulder at his teasing. He chuckled, and you tilted your head so you could see his face—he looked relaxed, truly at ease, and you practically melted into his touch.

“Yeah, I guess you did.”

You admitted defeat, and Jake gave you a cheeky lopsided grin before he leaned down and gave you a soft, chaste kiss that left you breathless.

You rested your head back against his chest, but he interrupted your peace yet again.

“Can I ask you somethin, nena?”

You nodded.

“You told Marc you imagined being an Avatar. ’m just curious—what kind of things do you think about?”

You felt your face flush with embarrassment, still feeling silly and insecure about admitting to your daydreaming habits, but Jake gently encouraged you enough until you relented, explaining how you’d always had an infatuation with the deity Nut and liked the poeticism of the pairing of the moon and the stars.

“And you called me estrellita.”

You informed shyly, nuzzling into the crook of his neck, but you could hear the way his breath caught in his throat, his muscles tensing just slightly.

“Estrellita?”

He questioned, and you lifted your head to look at him, his brows furrowed in confusion.

“Yeah, it—it means ‘little star.’”

You explained, and he shook his head.

“I know that, but I—hmm.”

His lips pursed, and you nudged him, his confusion worrying you.

“What? What’s wrong?”

He glanced at you out of the corner of his eye before staring back up at the ceiling, his expression contemplative

“No, it’s nothing. It’s just—today, when Khonshu came to tell us that you were in trouble, he—he called you that. Little star.”

You bolted upright, the color quickly draining from your face.

“He fucking what?”

Jake shrugged uneasily, but you felt your heart begin to hammer in your chest, recalling the bizarre intrusion Khonshu had made in your fantasy today, interrupting your own train of thought. Was that—actually him?

Little did you know, Khonshu had been eavesdropping on your daily mental escapes for some time, entertained by both your active imagination and the elaborate stories you seemed to conjure up on a whim. As a matter of fact, both he and Nut found great amusement in your investment in the life of the Egyptian deities, and should something happen to the Goddess of the Sky’s current Avatar—she knew exactly where to find her next candidate.

[allwaswell16]

All the One Direction fics I read and enjoyed in August 2024. You can listen to my podcast to hear me talk about each of these fics as well as an overview of what was posted on ao3 including the fics on this month’s fic roundup [ @1dmonthlyficroundup ] which you can find here!Please let the writers know if you liked the fics by leaving kudos and comments! Happy reading!

Fanfictional Podcast #65 |  ko-fi | fic recs

- Louis / Harry -

🌤️Your A-Team, Your Endgame by @silverkiiwii

(E, 70k, reality show au) a Next In Fashion au where Louis and Harry are partnered in the competition but they do not get along when they have to if they want to win. Full of fashion, banter, misunderstanding and a whole lot of making each other blush.

🌤️ Groupie Love by CuckooTrooke / @larrydoinglaundry

(E, 45k, m/f) In other words, Louis is a rock star on a world tour and Harry is a regular attendee. They could never work.

🌤️ But I know you by Thingssicant / @slowlyseducedbycurls

(NR, 26k, space) Harry is a journalist, Louis is an astronaut, but it's way more complicated than that

🌤️ You Can't Change The Rolling Tide by LiveLaughLoveLarry / @loveislarryislove

(M, 24k, summer) Louis lives on a tiny island off the coast of England and runs a sailboat touring company. When Niall is sidelined for the summer after his knee surgery, Louis needs a temporary new partner. Who better to fill that role than Harry, recently returned to the island after five years away?

🌤️ At your service, for your usage (series) by @holdingontochaos

(E, 16k, sex work) Louis is a doctor who works so much that he has barely any time to himself for pleasure, let alone to clean his house so he hires Harry as his naked maid and kills two birds with one stone.

🌤️ the past might be painful, but i’m in love with our future by localopa / @voulezloux

(T, 10k, part 2 of trans Louis verse) it takes a lot of convincing for louis to let harry take him to his first pride. harry understands his worries and fears. really, he does. he just wants to show his boyfriend that he doesn’t have to be alone anymore.

🌤️ never just the tip by journeytothepast / @suckerforhome

(E, 6k, omegaverse) Harry believes alphas can't control themselves. Louis proves him wrong.

🌤️ You Put the Boom Boom Into My Heart by @kingsofeverything

(T, 5k, historical) Harry's been trying all summer to come up with a way to show Louis how much he means to him before he leaves for college. Or five times Harry fails to win Wham! tickets and one time he succeeds.

🌤️ The Island by @jaerie

(E, 5k, part 2 of The Wilds) Researchers plucked some of them from their secluded island and transplanted them into an enclosure against their will like a bunch of zoo animals. But they weren't animals and they all had a story of how they got here.

🌤️ Dear Louis by callmenine

(E, 5k, famous/not famous) The one where Harry is a popstar having an existential crises and writes a song for his high school ex-boyfriend Louis after more than ten years of no contact.

🌤️ Let the Feeling Last by @allwaswell16

(T, 5k, unhinged pet fic) Omega Harry thinks the alpha at the grocery store buying a cart full of vegetables must be an amazing chef. He doesn't know that Alpha Louis is feeding all those vegetables to his pet pig.

🌤️ Stars over Amsterdam by @hellolovers13

(T, 4k, exes) Fate in form of Eras Tour tickets forces Louis to meet up with his Ex. Hopefully soon to be Ex-Ex.

🌤️ (on the edge until) you pull me in by @justanothershadeofblue

(E, 3k, fantasizing) His dick is not about to fall off, thank you very much, Niall, but it has been a while since he’s had time for a wank. 

🌤️ i'm going out tonight by @disgruntledkittenface

(M, 3k, established relationship) Louis hasn’t been appreciating his boyfriend Harry. He only realizes it when Harry takes matters into his own hands.

🌤️ I just wanna be yours (wanna be yours, wanna be yours) by @dreaminrainbows

(E, 3k, pwp) Harry studies his sixteen year old self’s face for a long moment and it's truly pathetic how in fourteen years nothing has really changed.

🌤️ the sign on your heart (it's reserved for me) by moon_rose25 / @darkinfinity

(G, 3k, kid fic) The one where Louis Tomlinson is a single dad and is finally allowing himself to start dating. Insert Harry Styles, a charming coffee shop owner who sweeps him off his feet.

🌤️ HOT TO GO! by @allwaswell16

(T, 2k, famous/not famous) When Harry does something weird at the barricade, he leaves Louis’ show devastated and hoping he can somehow make things right. Or the accidental pervert fic

🌤️ Gotta Feeling by @allwaswell16

(T, 2k, tour guide Louis) When Harry's life in Manchester isn't turning out the way he thought it would, he decides to visit his best friend in Mexico City. Maybe Niall can convince him to move halfway around the world.

🌤️ Ice, Ice, Baby by cherrylarry / @beelou

(G, 1k, meet cute) Figure skater Harry takes Louis out on the ice for the first time

- Rare Pairs -

🌤️ Like A Force Of Nature by @reminiscingintherain

(T, 30k, Zayn/Liam) the Heartstopper AU no one asked for.

🌤️ The Grundy County Drag Show Incident by @haztobegood

(T, 3k, Zayn/Liam) Holding a wireless mic in her gloved hand, Veronica Stardust owned the stage. She was one of the most vocally talented drag queens in the Midwest. Part 2 of Grundy County Incidents

[anon-sect]

I've been thinking about it for a while now, but I really want to be turned into some unaware guy's underwear. Could you help me out?

Picture source: @gayda1ly

Kenny had a fantasy of being turned into underwear on multiple occasions. He fantasized about it so much that he even often dreamed about it. He would see good-looking guys and imagine being their underwear. It soon became an obsession of his that he wanted to become a reality. He saw an advertisement online of a specialist that can do things that are deemed impossible. He called the number and had an appointment with him the next day.

Around 10am, Kenny was escorted into Mr. Jin's office. He saw Mr. Jin motion for him to have a seat.

"My secretary told me you had a rather strange request." Mr. Jin spoke, wanting clarification on his request. It was one of the most unusual ones he had ever been asked.

"Yes, Mr. Jin. I have been fantasizing so much about being another guy's underwear, completely unaware so much that I am obsessed with this fantasy." He paused, hoping Mr. Jin could help. "I want it to be my reality. Can you help me?"

"I most certainly can help, but you are aware that any deals I make are permanent? Once you sign the dotted line, it won't be undone." Mr. Jin explained. He wanted his customers to fully understand what comes with him granting their requests. "If you don't like your fate, you will literally be stuck with it." He added.

Kenny fully understood the conditions. He nodded. "I completely understand. So where do I sign?" He spoke with eagerness for his fantasy to come true. He saw Mr. Jin snaps his fingers. A contract instantly appeared in front of him with a quill pen and a small bottle of ink. There was a line for his signature.

"You sign at the bottom." Mr. Jin spoke, pointing at it.

Kenny dipped the tip of the pen in the ink and signed his name on the line without even reading the contract. He wanted this fantasy for a very long time. He saw Mr. Jin snaps his fingers again to see the contract, ink bottle, and pen vanished from his desk. It was replaced with a cup that had blue liquid in it. The cup was directly in front of him.

"All you have to do is drink the contents of the cup. It will make you into indestructible material, and your fantasy is granted." Mr. Jin spoke, waiting for Kenny to take the plunge into his new fate.

Kenny didn't know what would happen, but he was ready to see his new fate as underwear. "The guy who wears me won't know I am alive, will he?" He asked, holding the cup in his hands. He wanted to be completely unaware.

"The only one knowing that you are living underwear will be yourself. Your new owner would just think you are normal underwear, as agreed." Mr. Jin reassured him of the fate he had chosen.

Kenny quickly downed the drink, which sort of tasted like grape juice. He suddenly felt strange. He lost consciousness within seconds. His last image was of Mr. Jin, smiling at him.

Kenny regained consciousness several minutes later. He was in a dark place from what he could tell. Then light appeared. He was picked up and held in a guy's hands. The guy slipped his leg through him and slid him up to his crotch area. His only view was that of the guy's cock and balls. He could tell that his new owner had just taken a shower by the smell of him. He tried to move but couldn't. He tried to speak, but had no voice. He was literally underwear for real. Whoever the guy was had no clue that his underwear was a former person.

Blake had been reading for the past hour and a half after coming back from the gym. He watched a quick porn video and ejaculated in his underwear before taking a nap. He placed the book over his face and fell asleep.

Kenny thought his new fate was everything he had imagined. His new owner even cummed in him, completely unaware of what he did to another guy. He didn't want to change his fate for nothing in the world. This was his life now, and he was going to enjoy every minute of it.

[celesthysaturn]

Note: Meme, rant, Headcanon Yandere, One shot Yandere

➳❃ ➳❃ ➳❃ ➳❃ ➳❃ ➳❃ ➳❃ ➳❃ ➳❃

Even though my obsession with yanderes is just my favorite entertainment in my world of fanfics and ASMR so I can escape the reality where there is no one who loves me intensely and even fantasize my darkest desires without guilt, I'm feeling very stressed about life that I take. I barely sleep or even eat properly besides my precious coffee in the morning ☕ (I lost a lot of weight because of this, which is not normal).

So, deep in my heart, I wonder what it's like to have a yandere in real life who was so obsessed with me that I was his priority and treated my health and well-being as if it were the most precious thing he needed to take care of. .

So, if he sees my current situation, I think he would go crazy 🤭

Dude, I almost passed out at school because I hadn't eaten or slept in days, besides, I study during the day so and I'm still doing an internship, I'm definitely going to end up being admitted. I think he needs to come help me immediately

Do you also feel tired and needy? So here's a Yandere Headcanon for you 🫵

➳❃ ➳❃ ➳❃ ➳❃ ➳❃ ➳❃ ➳❃ ➳❃ ➳❃

Paternal/maternal and obsessive yanderes who are shocked when they discover that you are slowly killing yourself (or rather, have stopped taking care of yourself) and see that your mental and physical health is eroding because of the life you have decided to lead

Paternal/maternal and obsessive yanderes who see no other option and now they themselves will have to take care of you for you, and so, they finally decide to kidnap you.

Paternal/maternal and obsessive yanderes will make you completely dependent on them for your new life routine and even your basic needs. This means that they will bathe you themselves, dress you in comfortable and climate-appropriate clothes, cook and feed you in your mouth, make you take medicines and vitamins, take you punctually to medical appointments, blood tests and therapies (or perhaps they will do the exams themselves). Oh! Don't forget the main thing, lots of love and affection even if you refuse ♥️

Paternal/maternal and obsessive yanderes who will suffocate you with lots of affection, kisses and hugs, or at least, will try to demonstrate their great love for you in soft and attentive touches, looks and ears that are totally helpful to what you do and will talk to you every night how special you are to them, how precious you are

Paternal/maternal and obsessive yanderes that after 3 months of extreme care, he finally feels more comfortable letting you do your basic needs alone, but with their supervision, but you will still continue to live with him, you will only be able to leave for a while limited and will not allow you to do something that is not good for your health such as sleeping late, eating a lot of junk, accidentally hurting yourself, walking barefoot, otherwise he will go crazy once again and the whole childcare routine will start all over again

➳❃ ➳❃ ➳❃ ➳❃ ➳❃ ➳❃ ➳❃ ➳❃ ➳❃

Everything is so peaceful, my body feels relaxed and fresh as if I had taken a delicious bath and received a massage right after. As I lie in a soft bed, on warm, clean duvets and pillows in a silent, soft environment that smells like chamomile (when was the last time I cleaned my room?), everything made me stay in the position I'm in for hours and with eyes closed to relax in this very pleasant moment, maybe I should even go back to sleep.

For a small moment, I seem to have finally escaped my daily problems and routine, as that infernal alarm clock hasn't gone off yet... wait, where am I?!!!!!!!!

I finally realized why everything is so good...

"Good morning, sweetie. How's my sweetie feeling?" The stranger appeared at the bedroom door, which had been open the entire time, and walked towards me subtly as if approaching a fragile and injured animal. Soon, he sat on the side of the bed I was on and placed one of his warm, wet hands on my forehead.

"Your body temperature is normal, your face looks healthier, and your dark circles are gone. It seems like you rested very well, I feel so relieved!" Giving a sigh of satisfaction, and then he placed a kiss on my forehead with that same hand gently grabbing my chin with his thumb on mine. He kept his loving, soft gaze on me.

"Where am I?" My question was automatic, I didn't know if I remained paralyzed or jumped out of bed to run towards the bedroom door that had been open the whole time, suspecting that he was watching me since I was still sleeping, or was already prepared to attack me. rock when I finally woke up.

It wouldn't do any good anyway, since he would have locked all exit access to the outside and would already be prepared for any attack or kidnapping outbreak.

"You are in my house, or rather in our sweet and cozy home that I have prepared for us for the rest of our lives from now on."

"H-What do you mean? What's this story?"

"It's for your own good, Sweetheart, I couldn't bear to see my baby having such a hard and unfair life on the outside..."

"You should't..."

"No, honey, it's YOU who shouldn't do this to me. I believed that you could be independent and take care of yourself while I finished all the plans for us to have the dream life when we could finally move away from this society and all the tiring life and stressful while I would take care of everything to support and protect our home and you would be my beautiful homely wife and totally spoiled by me." He paused, panting after his harsh speech, and slowly calming down. Now, his welcoming expression now seemed like a frightening and overbearing father/mother. "But after I saw you killing yourself to have a minimally comfortable life, I will have to take this position and you will live the life I prepared for you and me from now on."

So, he got up, walked out of the room and then, within a few seconds, came back with a bowl of soup, glass of water and pills all on a tray. I was too shocked to react.

"Your stomach must be empty after you slept so much and ingested all the sedative I gave you." Sitting once again on the bed, now, even closer as he places the tray carefully on his lap, his right hand taking my cheese again with his thumb on my cheek with a firmer grip and the other hand dipping the spoon into the vegetable soup and lifting it towards me. His loving and welcoming gazes were even more intense.

"Now, my Sweetheart, be obedient and open your mouth ♥️"

➳❃ ➳❃ ➳❃ ➳❃ ➳❃ ➳❃ ➳❃ ➳❃ ➳❃

Note: Don’t forget to drink lots of water and get plenty of rest 😉

[shizunitis]

Luo Binghe & Tianlang-Jun: Origins. And a Bit of Projection.

Disclaimer: This is basically just a collection of quotes from The Scum Villain's Self-Saving System, Volume 3, accompanied by (adjective) thoughts, and then even more relevant quotes listed at the end. If I could, I’d paste the entirety of Chapter 18.

“As expected, I can’t bring myself to hate humans.” — Vol. 3, Chapter 21: Always Together

I will always be conflicted on the topic of Tianlang-jun, and it annoys me. There is so much I could say about him, and so little I can successfully articulate. He is, to me, more confounding, complex and tragic than Shen Jiu.

He’s pitiful and awe-inspiring, wicked and affable, cunning and wide-eyed in his curiousity. He is a compelling, heartbreaking character. He alternates between emotionless wisdom and mournful apathy. I admire how his knees don’t buckle under the weight of his grief, but how he crumbles at the barest hint of hope. How rage claws at him and, still, he can’t figure out how to make it stick.

I empathise with him. I understand him.

But then, in the distance, Luo Binghe's indifferent voice disturbs the silence, causing me to drop my drink onto the floor and this post onto your screen:

“He’s not my father.”

It’s an interesting exercise, exploring their relationship in reconciliation fics. To see them interact (semi-)honestly, watch them take turns filling up the chasm between them. It’s wonderful. Every fic I’ve read centred around them was a delightful read that I still think about.

However. I cannot see Tianlang-Jun, as I understand him, as Luo Binghe’s father. And not just because of the 3rd Novel’s events.

But because Binghe had hoped for something; he did have that wide-eyed wonder. He did hold one last window open, for the sake of an improbability he couldn’t quite, just yet, dismiss.

It’s what (most) orphaned and/or adopted childred do.

Though Luo Binghe had never said a word about it before, Shen Qingqiu knew that he harbored some fantasies about his birth parents. […] In fact, he’d always secretly fantasized about whether his parents might still be alive, and how well they’d treat him, and how they’d never let him suffer the mildest slight. — Vol. 3, Chapter 17: Tianlang

It is the most human thing; to want to be helped, accepted, invited by those given to you. A family is given to you. Whether you believe it an act of the divine, of nature, of coincidence, it isn’t something you fight for. It’s the first and, arguably, only thing you don’t have to fight for in life.

Depending on a multitude of factors, that can be a blessing or a curse; but where there is room for interpretation, questions left unanswered, most childred—Binghe included—will turn to their imagination, and try to make sense of it. Usually, to comfort themselves, to reassure themselves that surely, if their family could, they would have.

And, yeah. Most likely, if the Palace Master had gotten punted into the Sun like he fucking deserved, they would have. But does it matter?

In the face of a bleak reality, what comfort is a could-have-been?

He liked to call Luo Binghe “that son of mine,” but he didn’t seem to possess any concept of fatherly affection. […] Luo Binghe was in fact…someone who was unloved by even his own parents. — Vol. 3, Chapter 15: Holy Mausoleum

What use are good intentions to an abandoned child? What consolation is it, to say, They gave birth to you, when that child has seen no evidence of their care? Does it dry their tears, that their mother can’t be here, but she surely would have wished to be? That their father would protect them, if only he knew of them?

(And don’t make me tell you about the visceral horror I felt reading the Origins chapter. I’ve yet to make my peace with it. MXTX, Airplane, whoever: you’ve ruined me.)

The washerwoman was and continues to be, to Binghe, his only mother. And I would argue, that’s healthy. Even independent of his other traumas (Abyss, Shizun’s betrayal, Xin Mo’s influence, living on the streets, etc, holy shit Binghe) Luo Binghe will not accept anyone else as his mother.

“Who is this Su Xiyan?” Luo Binghe asked coldly. “My mother was a mere washerwoman.” — Vol. 3, Chapter 18: Origins.

It may seem callous. It probably even is! But it is a healthy line he’d drawn by his own initiative. It’s what helps him, what he feels he needs to do in order to do right by his mother, and his own heart.

And! Tianlang-Jun doesn’t seem to give much of a shit, either!

Won’t, probably, even in the future, once the dust will have settled. He is exhausted, weary with carrying the corpse of his love, the loss of his nephew. Whatever goodwill he shows, it’s a perfunctory sort, because he can’t afford more.

So. Uhh.

Tianlang-Jun is not a character I can love, nor one I can hate. Usually, I can’t help but be inclined to love complex characters. Like them, too—though that’s more of an action-based thing rather than just said character’s personality.

But with Tianlang-Jun, I’m stuck whichever way I turn. If I want to love/like him, I’m drawn back by Binghe’s pain and disappointment. If I try to hate/dislike him, I’m drawn back by his own history and grief.

In conclusion:

I don't know! I'm not really trying to, like, prove anything. I still love the aforementioned TLJ & LBH fics, I still love their dynamic. I started walking and ended up exactly in the same space. This, perhaps, could be considered a Heavenly Demon Family Mobius Strip!

I'm not really trying to say anything. It just… makes me feel conflicted, and angry, and whenever I allow myself to think about it a bit more, sad.

But.

However!

Alas.

Nonetheless, even.

As a reader and—on my better days—a writer, all I can say is:

As promised/threatened: some selected passages, for your reading pleasure:

So, it looked like neither the father nor the cousin had any intention of acknowledging Luo Binghe. — Chapter 15: Holy Mausoleum

He liked to call Luo Binghe “that son of mine,” but he didn’t seem to possess any concept of fatherly affection. — Chapter 15: Holy Mausoleum

Tianlang-Jun lifted his hand, took a look at Luo Binghe’s snow-pale face, and commented indifferently, “He looks like his mother.” “His eyes look like yours,” came a chill voice from the side. — Chapter 15: Holy Mausoleum

The faint hopes and dreams Luo Binghe had held in his heart for many years had been mercilessly pulverized into so much dust. […] [Tianlang-Jun] refused to speak a single word of their relationship and had been utterly ruthless back in the Holy Mausoleum. […] To his parents, Luo Binghe was an unwanted child. — Chapter 18: Origins

“If he was my father, why didn’t he bring it up earlier? Why not tell me?” The most Tianlang-Jun had said was that single line he offered while beating up Luo Binghe, devoid of either praise or criticism: “He looks like his mother.” He looks like his mother. What of it? But that was all. There was nothing more. — Chapter 18: Origins

Luo Binghe was indifferent. “He’s not my father.” […] Luo Binghe shook his head. It was unclear what he was stubbornly clinging to, but he repeated, “He’s not my father.” — Chapter 18: Origins

Luo Binghe raised his smiling face, his eyes shining brightly. “Mother was the kindest person in all the world to me.” — Chapter 19: Shen Jiu

[natasha-in-space]

Uhm... Thinking about sitting on Unknown's lap today (original, I know) and how this one simple action can reflect on your relationship with him as a whole.

The initial experience is very awkward. Uncomfortable. Weird. For you both, in fact. Of course, you wouldn't know that. Unknown would rather choke on his own words and die than acknowledge that you are causing him to feel out of place. He needs to be in control... And he will go above and beyond to keep that control, even if it makes things more difficult for him in the long run.

He is keeping you on his lap because he hasn't got a setup for you yet. He never intended to bring you here, after all. Not beyond fantasizing about being the cause of your laughter or telling you about his favorite ice cream flavor. He doesn't know why he thought of such stupid things while researching your routine. In any case, it was pointless. The effort he put in was not worth it. All because you made the choice to do what he hates the most.

Lie to his face.

He'll get you for that later, of course. But he keeps you where he can see you for the time being. He could have let you sit on the cold floor, but he didn't. Unknown isn't willing to admit to himself that the thought of letting you sit there reminds him too much of the days spent curled up on the floor of his childhood home.

You have just arrived here, and you are already causing trouble just by being in the same space as him. Causing his thoughts to become erratic when he has so many tasks to complete.

You both look stiff as hell. Your aim is to maintain as much distance between you as possible, mostly for the sake of decency. Unknown allows you to do as you please. He is unaware of how people cuddle, anyway. He is utterly clueless about where to put his hands or what angle to have his head in order to view all that he requires to see on the monitors. Your body is feeling cold and tense. But both of you are silent.

It persists like this for a few days.

His first attempt to pull you close to his chest occurs on impulse. A sudden alert went out, and he had to act quickly to immediately assess the issues. So, he yanked you close, placing his head right on your shoulder, as his nose scrunched up in displeasure.

Only, he stays put even after the problem is resolved. You do the same. Your back feels more relaxed since you don't have to keep your posture upright all the time, and receiving extra warmth from his chest pressed up against your back is a wonderful gift, to say the least. And Unknown finds himself liking the feeling of your body pressing up against his, more than he would like to admit.

It feels soft. And warm. And grounding. He would usually only feel desperate for something like that during short periods of distress when the nightmares are plaguing his mind again. But now, it's very much a reality.

He gets a bit grabby after that. He truly doesn't have any ulterior motives with his actions, but it's only natural for you to get rather uncomfortable when he suddenly kneads at your upper thigh or squishes your sides. Unknown has no clue about what is acceptable or not according to society's standards. And, in his mind, he's only using you as a living stress relief or a stimming toy. Without having a grasp of the concepts, of course.

In fact, if you were to express your discomfort, he would likely offer a muffled apology. He sure doesn't like it when other people touch him without his permission. In a way, he'll understand if you explain why you don't like him doing that.

You are a mystery to him, just as he is to you.

It's only when you two start opening up to each other as people that your working arrangements start to shift. You become more comfortable settling into a relaxed position against him, and Unknown no longer sits stiff as a wooden board, nor does he grab at you like a plush toy or something. You two begin conversing with each other as you go about your duties. Making jokes. Mostly with you doing the jokes and Unknown simply raising a confused eyebrow at you.

You start seeing him as more than just some weird guy who snatched you away into some god-forsaken place, and he starts seeing you as a genuine companion to share his time and thoughts with.

Unknown becomes more relaxed, his shoulders slumped as he rests his chin on the top of your head or on your shoulder, depending on his mood and your height. He starts trying out different positions, and at times you provide him with small hints on where to put his hands, which he actually listens to. He finds that having one arm wrapped snuggly around your middle is one of the most calming things ever, even if his workflow slows a little due to him only typing with one hand. And you find that you can always fiddle with his hair once you feel him get tense or frustrated when something doesn't go his way. One time, he even got so lost in the moment that he hummed and leaned his head into your touch like an affectionate cat begging for pets.

You have never commented on it.

Unknown never knew how touch-starved he was until he had you. The feeling of being touched was pleasant. And it was pleasant to touch someone in return. Your touches were not painful, nor were they conditional. He never had such affection before. He becomes rather hungry for it.

This is why he snarles and tells the unlucky believer who finally brought you a new chair to fuck right off. Rather rudely. Not like he cared.

And once your relationship progresses and becomes romantic, the stiffness and awkwardness of your initial impression feels like a distant dream. Unknown grows bold in his affection for you. Casually peppering the side of your neck with light kisses as he scrolls through the recent log, randomly biting down on your shoulder for... no particular reason at all (is he a cat or something?), nuzzling into your hair with a frustrated huff when things don't go his way.

It's cute. But also a bit annoying. You find yourself working even less effectively than you did when you were just starting out. It's hard to do any work when your boss is actively nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck to keep himself awake. But he doesn't care. It seems that your 'usefulness' is not as important to him as he said.

Your company is more than enough.

[risingoftime]

𝖗𝖊𝖒𝖎𝖓𝖎𝖘𝖈𝖊𝖓𝖈𝖊 | 𝖓𝖆𝖒𝖔𝖗

summary: Namor can't help himself when he fantasizes about you and the night you spent together. The God is clouded by desire and needs, as you're the only one who's ignited a fire within him. If he can't have you, he'll create a world where it's possible, even if it's in his mind.

word count: 0.6k (a tease I know)

warnings: smut, masturbation, hand jobs, forbidden lust, risky behaviour, needy!Namor, mentions past p in v. namor pov.

18+ | minors do not interact

➴ feel free to send me more thots

I have lived decades upon decades and have never found a woman who kept me on my toes like her. I’ve grown lonely and impatient. Death has been a never-ending theme in these forsaken waters, outliving everyone I’ve ever loved. She showed me that there is more beyond the surface. I was plagued by the memories of last night and the sound of my name rolling off of her tongue. I found myself throbbing, needing to feel her lips pressed against my skin. I took my length in my hands, stroking myself in slow motions, imagining how it would feel to have her lips wrapped around it. I felt my erection grow hard and heavy at the thought.

With a frustrated sigh, I sat on my bed with my legs parted slightly, biting back a rising moan as the roughness of my palm drove me to sweet insanity. I couldn’t resist the visions of her sucking and gagging, kneeling before me. I was thrusting against my own touch with the same desperation from the night before. The rush of heat runs through me at the thought of taking her to my bed and making love to her endlessly. Fantasizing about the noises and faces that she might make sent me over the edge. I stiffened my grip around my dick, allowing myself to embrace the friction as I raised my hips to grind against my hand. I settled into a regular rhythm, imagining her tight walls instead of my palms.

“Oh fuck” I emitted a low moan as I wiped off the thin coat of wetness from the tip. I felt as if my body was on fire, and the calm waters didn’t subside my body’s desires.

Namor began breathing heavily, curling his toes as flashes of her face clouded his mind. His pace went faster, moving his hand up and down while slightly squeezing his shaft. Namor thought of her skin that glistened against the moonlight and stars. Her lips parted slightly as she pushed her hips against his. He imagined her soft pussy getting wet just for him. She’s as hot and slick around his dick as his fingers. Now, his head is genuinely spinning and shifting between reality and fantasy. He had no choice but to pause to catch his breath before beginning again.

The feathered God released a strangled gasp as he felt his abdomen tense and coil, begging for release. Trapping his erection in his hand, he continued grinding against himself in circular directions. Envisioning himself rubbing against her entrance. Arching his back and spreading his legs further, pleading for more until he could no longer hold it in. Finally, his hand was engulfed with wet heat, and he thrust his dick until he felt raw against his grasp.

A sense of clarity came over him after he reached orgasm. The illusions he created in his mind slowly slipped away, and the realization of what he had just done was all that was left. He would do it again and again without shame. Namor knew it would be a while until he could have her under him again. But that didn’t mean a God couldn’t dream.

[nellasbookplanet]

Book recs: monster/creature friendships

Do you like movies like Alien vs Predator, Venom, and Kingdom of the Planet of the Apes? Do you enjoy dragon riders and talking animal companions? Friendly yet deeply inhuman aliens? Monster children and monster parents? Consider yourself less of a monster fucker and more of a monster best friend? Watch horror movies and fantasize about befriending the horrifying ghosts and ghoulies? Then this is the list for you!

A note: some of these books do have romance subplots, but not as the most important relationship or focus.

A (second) note: the criteria for "monster" are subjective. I looked mainly for titles featuring creatures who neither look nor act/think human. In cases where they are more human looking, I wanted a distinctly inhuman mind and morality, meaning most books featuring vampires, werewolves, fey, etc are excluded. I may have included books you feel aren't monstrous enough, or excluded ones you feel are sufficiently monstrous but I don't agree about. Again, it’s subjective.

Feel free to leave your own recs in the notes, but please know that if you rec books featuring mostly human vampires and werewolves I will be judging. I have separate lists for those, go look there instead.

For more details on the books, continue under the readmore. Titles marked with * are my personal favorites. If you want more book recs, check out my masterpost of rec lists!

Project Hail Mary by Andy Weir*

Ryland Grace just woke up from a coma, unable to remember anything. He finds himself alone on a space ship, and as his memories slowly trickle back, he realizes he’s been sent on a mission: to find a solution to the impending doom of the earth. Still struggling with holes in his memories, Ryland tries to fulfill his mission, but as he gets closer to his goal, he discovers someone else got there first. And they aren’t anything close to human. Funny, heartfelt, and heavy on the science.

Fragment by Warren Fahy*

The reality TV show Sealife is having a rough time - as it turns out, a ship full of scientists doesn’t make for the kind of drama they hoped for. Hoping for some excitement, they reach Hender’s Island, a fragment of a lost continent that may contain an interesting new ecosystem. But as they step foot on the island, they quickly come to realize the ecosystem isn’t just new, it’s highly dangerous and very hungry. Among all this life is one single species that may be more dangerous than any other, but which may also be the salvation of the scientists on the island. A bit wonky, but genuinely one of the most fun books I have read, I love it so much.

The Road to Roswell by Connie Willis*

Francie has just traveled to Roswell to attend her college friend’s wedding to a UFO conspiracist. Not a believer herself, Francie is shocked when she finds herself abducted by an alien. Her abductor is not much what popular media would have you believe, looking more like a tumbleweed than a grey alien, and is clearly on some kind of mission it isn’t willing to put on hold for the sake of Francie attending to her duties as a bridesmaid. As more people get roped along - among those a conman, an old lady, a ufo conspiracist, and a retiree with an RV - Francie finds herself getting closer to the alien and wanting to help it succeed.

The Last Human by Zack Jordan

Young adult. Sarya is a human - the only one of her kind. Living with her adoptive mother - a vicious, insectile alien - on a space station surrounded by hundreds of other alien species, Sarya spends every day staying below the radar and hiding her true identity. But when an odd new alien arrives on the station, she may finally get an answer to her biggest question: why humanity was deemed too dangerous to be allowed to exist.

Alien vs. Predator: Prey by Steve Perry & S.D. Perry*

On desert planet Ruyshi, businesswoman Machiko Noguchi is about to take over the leading position in a small human colony. Her job is made infinitely harder when the colony comes under attack on two fronts as two species of vicious aliens choose it as their battle ground. If you're reading this list, you probably already know of the movie by the same name. The book, while completely different in setting and cast, does feature many similar plot points, among those a third act team-up between a human woman and a murderous alien.

Children of Time by Adrian Tchaikovsky*

Millenia and generation spanning scifi. After the collapse of an empire, a planet once part of a project to uplift other species to sentience is left to develop on its own, resulting not in the intelligent monkeys once intended but in sentient giant spiders. Millenia later, what remains of humanity arrives looking for a new home, only to be met by the artificial remains of the ancient woman who once led the uplift project - and she is not willing to let them on her planet.

The Moon and the Sun by Vonda N. McIntyre

You can’t go wrong with a Vonda McIntyre novel just, like, in general. This one is set in 17th century France, where a young woman and her brother travel to live at the royal court, where they are to care for and study a strange captured sea monster fabled to have the ability to grant eternal life. A lot of focus on court politics as well as the cultural and biological differences between the humans and the mermaid. Also available as a movie (but it’s not very good, please just read the book).

Winter Tide by Ruthanna Emrys*

Lovecraftian fishpeople! Aphra and her brother are the only survivors after the government raided their home, Innsmouth. Their only living family are the amphibian people of the deep, whom they will one day join, but until then they are bound to land where they struggle to build new lives for themselves after the great loss of their home and loved ones. Then rumors start to spread of a russian agent seeking dangerous and ancient magic, forcing Aphra to involve herself as they try to stop it. Does contain horror elements but is generally a much more optimistic look on cosmic horror than most lovecraftian stories, told from the perspective of one of his monsters. Lots of focus on found family and rebuilding of community.

The Doors of Eden by Adrian Tchaikovsky*

The Doors of Eden is something of an experiment in speculative biology, featuring versions of Earth in which various different species were the one to rise to sentience, from dinosaurs to neanderthals. Now, something is threatening the existence of all timelines, dragging multiple different people and species into the struggle, among those a pair of cryptid hunting girlfriends and a transgender scientist. Together, can they find a way to save the multiverse?

The Spider and Her Demons by sydney khoo*

Young adult. All teenager Zhi wants is a normal life (and possibly for her harsh aunt to be a bit nicer), but it’s hard when she’s half spider demon. Every day she must conceal her true nature and hide in human guise. When she slips up and eats a man in front of her rich, aloof classmate Dior, Zhi thinks her life is over. But Dior has secrets of her own, and she is dead set on making herself a part of Zhi's life.

Vespertine by Margaret Rogerson

Young adult fantasy. Artemisia prefers the dead to the living, and is training to become a Gray Sister, a nun who helps the souls of the deceased pass on to the afterlife rather than remain as dangerous spirits. To defend her convent, Artemisia accepts the help of a dangerous revenant, a powerful spirit which grants her great power but also could possess her the moment her guard is lowered. As evil threatens her homeland, Artemisia and the revenant must find a way to work together.

Slewfoot: a Tale of Bewitchery by Brom

Historical horror. Young Englishwoman Abitha has only recently arrived and married into a Puritan colony when she unexpectedly becomes a widow. As she strives to save her small farm from going under in the wake of tragedy, something dark and dangerous stalks the surrounding woods. He doesn't know whether he's spirit, devil, or god, doesn't even know his own name, and in requesting Abitha's help, both their lives are changed forever.

Lycanthropy and Other Chronic Illnesses by Kristen O'Neal*

Young adult. Priya had plans to go to Stanford, but is derailed when the fallout from lyme disease puts her back, making her question if she'll ever get back to normal. Luckily she has her discord support group with whom she can chat and vent about her illness. Even more - she has Brigid, online fandom friend and fellow chronic illness sufferer. But when Brigid disappears from the web without warning, Priya must drive to Pennsylvania to make sure her friend is okay - and finds that Brigid's condition is a bit hairier than she expected.

Sorcery of Thorns by Margaret Rogerson

Young adult. Elisabeth is a librarian, trained to handle grimoires - books of magic which, if mishandled, can turn into horrifying monsters. When an act of sabotage leads to the release of one of the library's most dangerous grimoires, Elisabeth finds herself implicated in the crime. Forced to team up with an enemy sorcerer and his loyal and unpredictable demon servant, Elisabeth sets out to find out the truth of what happened.

The Girl With All the Gifts by M.R. Carey

In a post apocalyptic, zombie-infested wasteland, a group of characters try to stay alive and hope to find a cure. One of the characters is Melanie, a young girl who carries the contagion inside of her and hungers for flesh, but like many children of the apocalypse has kept her humanity. Is she and children like her the answer to the cure we are looking for? Or are they the start of something entirely new? This book has also been adapted as a movie!

Malevolent by Harlan Guthrie*

Lovecraftian horror mystery. Private detective Arthur Lester wakes up in his office, his partner dead, memories fuzzy, vision gone, and the voice of a malevolent entity in his mind. Unable to see, Arthur is forced to rely on guidance from the entity as he attempts to solve the mystery of what it is and where it came from. Is this a book? No. But as someone who reads mostly audiobooks, the difference between a book and a fiction podcast is negligible, and also I love this story and its characters and want all of you to do so too.

Parasyte by Hitoshi Iwaka*

Horror manga, heavy on the bodyhorror. Shinichi Izumi wakes one day after a strange dream: that an alien parasite crawled into his arm. Soon he realizes it was more real than dream, and that an inhuman creature, having failed to eat and take over his brain, now controls his arm. Forced to cooperate, the two do their best to survive as more parasites quietly infiltrate society, meaning to devour our entire species. Also available as a very faithful anime!

Skulduggery Pleasant by Derek Landy*

Young adult. Twelve-year-old Stephanie Edgley's uncle, famed horror writer, just died mysteriously and left her his entire fortune. As it turns out, the stories he wrote weren't entirely made up, and that which killed him wasn't entirely human. In trying to avenge his death, Stephanie joins forces with Skulduggery Pleasant, sorcerer, detective, and living, walking skeleton.

The Cloud Roads by Martha Wells

Moon doesn't know what he is. Having lost his family young he lives on the move, shifting his shape to hide his true form. The only ones similar to himself he's ever encountered are the vicious, bloodthirsty Fell, but he knows he cannot be one of them. When chance leads to a meeting with someone like him, he hopes his days of loneliness are over. But his new people stand against a dangerous enemy, and not all of them welcome Moon's help. A departure from other titles on this list in that it features only creatures, with not a single human on page.

The Girl From the Well by Rin Chupeco

Young adult horror. Okiku died three hundred years ago, her body thrown down a well. Now she spends her days hunting for and punishing murderers like the one who once killed her. When a strange boy bearing odd tattoos appears in her area, he catches Okiku's attention - as does something that follows after him. To save the boy, Okiku will be drawn into a journey taking both of them from American suburbia to a faraway shrine in Japan.

Monstrilio by Gerardo Sámano Córdova

When Magos loses her son Santiago to a longtime illness, she loses herself to grief and cuts out a piece of his lung. After hearing old folktales, she begins feeding it - and is shocked to find it growing and alive. Soon finding herself in charge of a hungry and bloodthirsty creature, Magos and her family must come together to care for what they can only see as a second chance for Santiago.

Semiosis by Sue Burke

A generational story following a group of humans trying to survive on a new planet, where a strange and unkowable intelligence is finding ways to use them to its whims. As the humans come across an abandoned city wrapped in the roots of a strange plant, they slowly come to the realization that mutual communication is the only path to peace and survival. Meanwhile, the alien finds itself tied all the more tightly to the growing human community.

The Stardust Grail by Yume Kitasei

Maya Hoshimoto used to be an art thief, and a damned good one to, until a disastrous heist made her retire into academia, hoping for peace and coping with an alien disease which causes her to see glimpses of the future. When an old friend tracks her down and asks her help to find and steal a legendary artifact that could save his entire species, Maya is convinced to do one last job.

Magical Girl Dandelion by Mizuho Kaeru

Manga. Tanpopo Ohanami's parents were killed by a phantom monster when she was young, but her life was saved by Shade, another phantom. Ever since then, Shade has been her friend, watching over her and keeping her safe. But then Tanpopo is revealed to be a potential magical girl, meant to fight the phantoms and protect humanity. Her and Shade are meant to be enemies, but can they instead work and fight alongside each other?

His Majesty's Dragon by Naomi Novik

It’s the height of the Napoleonic Wars, and soldiers on dragon back fight each other in the air. Will Laurence isn't a dragonrider but a sea captain, but when his ship captures a French frigate and discovers a dragon egg about to hatch in his cargo, his life changes forever when he and the dragon hatchling bond.

The Golden Compass by Philip Pullman

Middle grade. In Lyra's world, every person has a daemon: a talking animal companion who follows them throughout life. When children begin being stolen off the street, among them Lyra's friend, she must embark on a great journey to save him, taking her to the furthest north - and beyond.

A Redtail's Dream by Minna Sundberg*

Graphic novel inspired by Finnish mythology. When an irresponsible fox spirit accidentally traps an entire town in the dreamlands, it’s up to slacker Hannu and his talking, shapeshifting dog Ville to save everyone. Together the unwilling heroes must travel the dreamlands and locate the townsfolk, returning them to the waking world before the fox spirit sends them all on to death to hide his mistake. While the physical copy is all but impossible to get a hold of, the original webcomic can still be read for free here.

[ymiwritesstuff]

The Urge in Me

HI! Here's a Dark Urge inspired Halsin fic!! I've been playing my Durge playthrough and I really wanna romance Halsin, I just think it would create some nice duality and it also inspired me to write this! Fair warning though, this is NOT for the faint of heart, this one deals with some heavy stuff. General Dark Urge stuff yes, but be sure to look at the warnings thoroughly. Please enjoy!

Baldur's Gate 3

Halsin x Dark Urge!Tav!Reader

Summary: The torturing darkness in you was only growing stronger, and on a certain night you can barely contain it, leaving you fearing for your beloved's life.

Notes: NSFW CONTENT (gore and violence), Angst, DARK THEMES, GORE, EXTREMELY graphic mentions of violence, mentions of death, Blood, Dark Urge stuff, Fantasizing about murder, Hurt & comfort, happy ending, Fluff

There was dread in the air, carried by the foul stench of death. Bright red, fresh blood pooled on the ground, a river of crimson flowing into the endless depths below, gushing out of bodies that were twisted into the most unnatural and grotesque of positions. Their gruesome appearance showed no regard for the sanctity of life, the sight of it a despicable and unsettling reminder of the reality of the world.

The butchery was vile, done in a hunger. A hunger to kill and bring carnage. It was as if a monster had unleashed unimaginable horrors upon these poor victims, many of them still housing an expression of pure horror frozen upon their faces. Even in death, they feared.

How delicious.

You marveled at the sight of the bloodshed, your body trembling in what you could only describe as ecstasy. How it brought you so much euphoria to see the fruits of your murderous efforts, a feast for your eyes. Your hand ached, a testament to the way it brought these people to their dooms oh so effortlessly. The sharp blade of the dagger you gripped dripped with blood, so deliciously wet with the juices of life.

The sweet smell of slaughter floated in the air, filling your head with a more ravenous desire to bring about another massacre like this one, with even more souls for your taking, with even more blood and guts. How superb it would feel to slice and slash flesh, to hear the screams and pleas of your pathetic victims, only for you to sink your dagger into them again.

And again, and again, again again again! Only for your hunger to remain famished, the never-ending thirst for glorious murder growing with every stab and cut. You would desire more.

More bloodbath… Slaughter of the highest order. Your body tingled at the thought, a vicious cackle ripping from the depths of your throat, ringing in your ears as the lust of slaying grew within you. How wonderful, how sublime. Where would you start?

Perhaps with a family… To hear the screams of the children as their parents met their end by your hand, to feel the rush of frenzy flow through you as your sharp blade works tirelessly, to see the desperation in their eyes as you gouge them-

“My heart?”

You sat up suddenly, breath heaving and sweat dripping down your forehead. For a moment, you did not see anything, or feel anything, however soon, as the warm light of a familiar campfire reached your eyes, as well as a silhouette of a large elf towering over you, you finally came to your senses.

“H-Halsin? What’s going on?”

He looked at you, concern plastered across his features. He remained quiet, his expression somehow managing to tell you that he did not dare to tell you why you were woken up by him. The previous visions were a blur, but the way he eyed you planted a seed of fear in you. What had you done?

Fearing the worst, you frantically looked around, trying to see if everyone was still sleeping, hopefully among the living. “Did… Did I do something? Please don’t tell me I kill-”

“No, my love.” He placed a hand on your shoulder, leaning closer. Looking at him fearfully, you noticed a distant calmness in his eyes. “You’ve done nothing. I simply woke you up as you seemed… distressed.” His voice trailed off at the end, his eyes briefly finding the ground below him.

You noticed a hesitation within him. He was trying to comfort you, but you sensed something plaguing him. Something sinister.

“What did I do?” You were afraid to ask but had to know. The urge had tormented you for some time and only seemed to grow in strength, but you could not afford to pretend to be ignorant, lest you someday did something irreversible and horrid.

Halsin paused, seemingly fighting a battle within himself. “You… weren’t yourself, so to speak.”

He was being vague, most likely for your own good, but it only made you want to know more. You took his hands and looked at him, trying to persuade him to tell you everything that happened.

“Please, Halsin. I want to know. I can’t begin to control my urge if I don’t understand it…” You pleaded with him, fearful of what horrors he might describe but determined to understand this… Sickness of yours. That’s what it was to you.

Halsin sighed deeply, pondering over your words before giving in. It pained him to see you like this and though he would have rather not told you any more than he already had, he understood your struggle, and above all wished to help you in any way he could.

“You tossed and turned at first, seemingly disturbed by something. Soon you began saying words that I did not understand. They were unclear, confused, but loud.”

You swallowed nervously, noticing how his face slightly twisted into a frown at the memory.

“Then you started twisting like your limbs were being snapped and you thrashed around uncontrollably. At this point, I knew I had to wake you up, but then...”

He squeezed your hands and took a breath. You would not be ready for what he said next.

“You laughed. You laughed like a…” He quieted down again, but you had a feeling you knew what he was about to say.

“Monster.”

Halsin did not want to hear you say it. Neither did you, but it was useless trying to deny it. The twisted urge had partially taken control as you slept, fortunately only managing to contain itself within your mind. Still, it brought you a sense of qualm.

The desire for bloodshed had infiltrated your mind before, briefly, but it had always left something behind, a fraction of its dark desires. Even when you looked at Halsin, your beloved, with whom you wished to spend every moment of every day, you were not spared from the invasive thoughts of slaughter.

You wondered how many stabs it would take to pierce that large body of his. How much you would have to twist your knife while it was buried deep within his torso until he screamed in agony. Your eyes wandered to his neck, vision blurred as the sound of your rapid heartbeat filled your ears.

He called to you, but you could not hear it, for all you thought about how lovely it would have been to see that thick neck of his gushing with blood from a deep wound. You grinned. What fun that would be.

Before your sickened mind went any further, you managed to pull yourself from the sea of blood raging within you. Gasping, you looked at him again, no longer fantasizing about his murder. You felt disgusted like you had cruelly betrayed him. You hung your head low fighting back tears that threatened to fall.

“I… I don’t know what to do… I don’t want to hurt anyone.”

You felt his strong arms wrap around you, and one of his hands pet your head gently. He held you tight, almost afraid that you would slip away. The severity of the situation was obvious to both of you, but Halsin, being the kindhearted druid he was, put that aside to help you deal with it.

“Do not worry, my heart. I am here.”

His words hit you like a boulder, finally urging those tears to come out. You quietly sobbed against him, wondering just how you had managed to meet someone like him. Despite the dread, the death, the urge, all of it, he was there for you and made sure not to leave your side.

However, the underlying fear grew the more you thought about it. If you could not control the urge any longer and embarked on a murderous killing spree, who would stop you? What would happen to everyone and most importantly, what would happen to him? It was all covered in a veil of dark mystery, but one thing was more than certain.

You would rather run a knife through your own throat than allow yourself to harm him or anyone else.

“We will find a solution to this yet, my love…” He spoke, voice soothing, almost a whisper. His large hand ran through your hair and his words brought you some hope. You found yourself believing him, if only slightly.

“I would hope so but… Halsin..” You lifted yourself from him, teary eyes looking up at him with another pleading expression. His hand was on your cheek, thumb wiping away the stray tears. “Yes, my heart?”

You took a breath, what you were about to ask was not a light matter, and you debated whether or not you should even begin to ask this of him. It weighed on your heart, but you could not go on any longer wondering when you’ll finally lose control and hurt someone.

“Love… I… I’m fearful… It’s clear that whatever it is in me, can consume me and make me do… regrettable things.” You held onto his shoulders, your voice losing its power as you went on.

“To kill someone… To kill you- It… It’s like a nightmare that I fear will yet become true… So please…”

Squeezing him, your eyes met his, and in the pit of his stomach, you were sure he already knew what you were about to ask of him.

“If I one day lose control, lose myself to this… Dark urge… Promise me-” The words got stuck in your throat. How could you ask this? From him? It felt wrong, all of it felt wrong and suddenly you weren’t sure what to do. The words hung in the air that had become thick and judging by how Halsin looked at you, he knew all too well what you wished to say.

“My heart, listen to me.” Both of his hands were now on your face, hazel eyes frowned in sadness but sparkling with hope. “I can only imagine the torment you are going through, and I do not blame you for considering a more bleak solution.” His voice was gentle, like a spring breeze and the warmth of his hands spread throughout your entire being.

“But that is not how this will end. I promise you, I will not let anything happen to you, or anyone else. Trust me, my heart. You will prevail, we will prevail, together.”

You were stunned. With wide eyes you look at him, his saddened kind smile radiating your dark insides like the sun. You clung to him unsure what to say.

“Halsin…”

Leaning against him, you craved an embrace and he was happy to oblige. You felt safer than ever before, his words affecting you in ways you did not think possible. Suddenly, it did not feel so hopeless anymore. You thought the only possible solution would have been for him to kill you if you ever reached a point of no return but now… Perhaps there was hope. Perhaps you would find the cause of all this.

“I’ll be by your side, love. No matter what.”

Halsin pressed his lips to the top of your head, and you melted in his arms, the fatigue of the night returning to you. The urge was quiet blessing you with its pity as you enjoyed your beloved’s warmth. To be with him was a miracle.

He was a miracle.

~

Feel free to support me on ko-fi! ❤️

[winterrrnight]

red carpets without you

PAIRING: drew starkey x gn!reader

SUMMARY: you and drew have been dating for quite some time now, but have not brought your relationship for the public to see yet. Drew has the outer banks season 3 premiere to attend, so he goes without you. He misses you a lot at the premiere, but is completely satisfied with everything when he comes back home and gets to sleep in your arms.

WARNINGS: small mentions of cyber bullying and anxiety

EDITH SPEAKS: one of the biggest things I want to bring light on is how fans at times make their faves relationships uncomfortable. Please don't interfere with their personal lives, it's no matter to you. It's their life and they choose how to live it, and if they wish to be public about it or not. Please don't make their partners feel unloved and unwanted, the world is already a very harsh place, and that doesn't make it any better. Don't make assumptions on their relationships without any proper proof. Spread love and only love 💌🌷

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It is the evening of the Outer Banks season 3 premiere, and your boyfriend Drew is definitely going to be one of the main attractions of the event. He has been gone since early afternoon to prepare for the premiere and get ready, and you have been with him long enough to know that premieres can take a lot of time and he will be coming extremely late at night.

You and Drew have been reluctant to publicise your relationship. The thought of being recognised scares you, and even though Drew does have many supportive fans who will love you, the haters are always present around. You're afraid they will get to your head and make you believe made up stories about your relationship, ruining everything you have with Drew.

Today was one of the moments where you actually wished you could've gone with him. You absolutely adore the entire Outer Banks cast, and it would be nothing short of a spectacular night with them. Sometimes you do like to fantasize about you and Drew being public, you're in the most beautiful outfit and both of you are walking down the red carpet together, your hands intertwined. But you are quick to come back to reality when your mind shows you a scenario of you finding horrifying comments regarding you on a picture of you both, saying how you aren't the one for him and he's better off with someone else.

You remind yourself that the best place you can be at the moment is actually where you are right now: your couch, with a massive bowl of popcorn with you as you start watching the live stream of the premiere. You see all of the cast members walk in, looking beautiful as ever. You watch their interviews with utter love. They really are some of the best people.

Suddenly the cameras are directed towards Drew. He's wearing a dark blue suit, and you can't help but gape at how gorgeous he looks in that color. The fit of the suit is just perfect and he's getting his pictures clicked, his grace coming so effortlessly.

As Drew walks ahead on the carpet he's stopped by an interviewer. "Hello Drew, how are you feeling today?" The interviewer asks him.

"I'm good, super excited for everyone to see season 3," he says in the mic, smiling.

"What is Rafe like in the season? What will we get to see of him?"

"My lips are sealed for any information," he chuckles, "but he has done some... things." The interviewer laughs at his reply.

"Well Drew, is there anything you would like to say to your loved ones and your fans?"

"Thank you for all your constant support," he says, a big smile now on his face. "It makes me so happy to think how much everyone has been loving the show. Nothing is more fulfilling than watching your own hard work reaping you the big results."

At that moment, the interviewer ends his small talk with Drew and he walks on ahead on the carpet. The Twinkie is on the red carpet and watching Drew pose with it makes you giggle, as he goes inside it and looks out the window and gives a cheeky smile. The livestream goes on to show the interactions of the rest of the cast members with the interviewers and among themselves.

↶ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊˎ-

You suddenly wake up from your nap on your couch which you hadn't realised you had started taking. It takes a few seconds for you to realise what's happening; the popcorn bowl is now empty and is lying on your carpet upturned, and the live stream has ended. You check the time on your phone to see it's nearing 1.30 am at night. You had initially thought of staying up until Drew comes home, but your sleepy mind has different plans for you. Giving in, you decide to head in to your bedroom to go to sleep.

↶ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊˎ-

The gentle sounds of shoes being placed on the ground and the rustle of clothes wakes you up from your sleep. You open your eyes groggily and turn around in bed to see Drew's back towards you, as he is getting into comfortable clothes for the night.

"Hey bubs, you're home?" You ask gently. Drew turns around and you can visibly see the tiredness in his eyes.

"Oh, love, yeah I just came home," He walks up to you and bends down at your level. "I didn't expect you to wake up. Go back to sleep," he says, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

"No it's okay, how was it?" You ask, your eyes not fully open from the heavy sleep lying on them.

"It was really amazing. I'll tell you all about it tomorrow okay?" He gets up from the floor and disappears in the washroom. After a few minutes he comes back out, and lies in the bed next to you.

You wrap your arms around his neck and gently pull his head onto your chest. He wraps his arms around your waist, and you start to play with his hair with sleepy motions of your hands, as you both drift off to sleep.

Drew had missed you a lot on the premiere - a lot more than he thought he would. There were so many moments where he wished he was answering the interviewer's question with you on his side. Your presence calms his nerves down whenever he feels a bit anxious, and such massive premieres, especially for a show as famous as Outer Banks, tend to make him slightly nervous.

But he knows you both aren't ready to come out to the whole world. Not yet. The world can be harsh, and even the strongest soldiers fall on their faces from its adversities. What you have is something made for just the two of you, and even though at times it feels like it shouldn't be this way, you know that this is actually the best you can have. And you are completely satisfied with it.

Why wouldn't you be? Drew is yours, and you are his. And that's all that matters.