#complain about light pollution. and so on

[dirtbra1n]

thinking. that I’m in my tashiro era

[mammomlette]

Since we know there are stars in the devildom that seem to always be present (correct me if I’m wrong) imagine how the brothers (look; Belphie) would react if they found out about human world light pollution😭

(Small spoilers) I know stars were mentioned in s3 (?)when Simeon, Satan and MC went back in time, but I don’t remember if they said they had them there or not. Either way, I doubt the brothers are that used to not being able to see stars when they look outside so just imagine

MC: yeah so it’s night now, hopefully not too bright for you since you were complaining about it being brighter than the devildom at some point-

Brother: MC where are the stars.

MC: what? there’s literally a couple right there?

Brother: They aren’t here. Am I supposed to wait longer? MC where did you put the big ones. The clusters. The galaxies.

MC: I reiterate: what? I didn’t put them anywhere- ohhhhh wait, I get you know

Brother: What happened to the stars? I know they used to have them here!-

MC: Yeah that’s just light pollution, man. Humans suck lowkey.

Brother: It’s what?

Idk I just can’t imagine them not noticing or being fine with it

[hintsofhoney]

Radio and the Rain

Pairing(s): Dean Winchester x F!Reader

Summary: When a bad storm forces you and Dean apart on a hunt, he realizes just how much you mean to him.

Tags: 18+, smut, making love, p in v, all that jazz... nothing too crazy

Word Count: 2.4k

A/N: Hello, I'm back after almost 6 months. Moving across the country (again) among other big life events (all good ones!) gave me the worst writer's block of all time, but thanks to my friends (@soaringeag1e & @emoryhemsworth), writing this fic per their suggestion (based off Radio and the Rain by Chris Young) is what finally pulled me out of it! Beta'd by my angels @wayward-dreamer and @makeadealwithdean. Alright, hope you all enjoy, and I promise I'll be back again with more things soon!

You can also read me on Ao3!

DEAN WINCHESTER MASTERLIST | SUPERNATURAL MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST

“Y/N!” Dean calls out, doubtful that you can hear him over the sound of the rain coming down as he tries to ignore the panic building inside him. His hair is stuck to his forehead from the downpour, water droplets streaming down his face as he tries to shield himself from the weather. It’s no use. He’s soaked to the bone – he’s not sure he could have worn enough layers to keep him dry, not in this storm – and the darkness of the forest seems to go on forever. He could have sworn there was a town nearby – some light pollution would be really helpful right about now – but he seems to be shit out of luck. Thunder booms above him, almost deafening, and he keeps on what he hopes is the right path, his heart rate steadily increasing. He needs to find you. 

“Y/N!” he yells again after another minute passes. If he’s soaked, he can’t imagine what you must be. He remembers what you’re wearing; skinny jeans, a thin green t-shirt, a black faux leather jacket, hunting boots. Normally, he doesn’t complain about your refusal to wear more layers, but right now, ‘I told you so’ is on the tip of his tongue. He would need a large amount of hands to count how many times he’s told you to prepare for anything , and that a flimsy t-shirt and jacket weren’t gonna cut it, but in your defense, this storm came out of nowhere. He had to give you that, at least. 

“Dean!” he whips his head around at the faint sound of his name making its way through the rain, and yells yours out once more before making his way towards your voice. His eyes are adjusted enough to the dark to where he can make out silhouettes of fallen trees ahead of him, stepping over them with little caution as you call out to him again. He has to make sure you’re okay. He has to get to you. 

“I’m here, Y/N!” he yells, “Where are you!?” 

“Dean!” 

He hears it, clear as day from behind him. He turns around in time to see the outline of your soaked body appearing from behind the trees.

“Y/N!” He rushes to you, taking your cold hand in his, and you can’t tell if he’s relieved or angry to see you – or a little bit of both. You should have listened to him when he told you splitting up was a bad idea, but completing the hunt had been the only thing on your mind, Dean’s lectures about safety be damned. “Jesus, you’re freezing,” he comments, like he isn’t an icicle himself. He wants to say, ‘I told you splitting up was a bad idea’, but he holds his tongue. He can lecture you later. 

He grabs you firmly by the shoulders, looking you up and down. “Are you okay?” 

With the rain pouring down, he sounds like he’s whispering, even though you can tell he’s only a decibel away from full-on screaming. Lightning strikes in the distance, and you’re able to get a clear view of his face for a brief moment. Water streaming down his clenched jaw, hair soaked and plastered to his forehead, worried green eyes searching yours. They land on your cheek, which you think is bleeding thanks to the branch that smacked you in the face a few minutes ago, and you roll your eyes at his over-concern.

“I’m fine, Dean. It’s just a scratch.” 

“C’mon,” he replies gruffly, pulling you into his coat in an attempt to shield you from the rain. “Baby’s got a first aid kit in the back.” 

Ten minutes of walking later and you can make out Baby’s silhouette parked on the road on the other side of some trees. The rain seems to have gotten even worse – if that’s even possible – and the thought of being underneath some type of roof (Baby’s was just as good as any) where you’d have an opportunity to get dry was getting your tired legs through the last bit of your trek out of the muddy woods. 

Your first step onto the dirt road comes with more rain as you come out from under the umbrella of trees. Dean opens the back door for you, ushering you inside and telling you not to worry about your shoes (something that he was usually a stickler about; he liked a clean car). To your surprise, he gets in behind you, quickly closing the door before the backseat can get even more wet. He leans over the front bench, fishing his keys out of his pocket, before starting the ignition and turning on the heat. The radio comes on as Baby starts up, and he lets it play as he opens the glove box and pulls out a flashlight, before sitting back and reaching underneath the driver’s seat for the first aid kit. 

“Hold this,” he orders, turning on the light and handing it to you, the brightness of the bulb causing you both to squint as your eyes adjust. 

“Dean, I told you, I’m fine,” you reiterate with an exhausted sigh, watching as he opens the white box in his lap. 

“Shine it on your face, I need to get a better look.”

You roll your eyes, pointing the flashlight on your cheek, allowing Dean to grab the underside of your chin as he moves your head to the side and examines the damage. 

“Needs to be cleaned,” he announces, letting you go and pulling out a small bottle of rubbing alcohol and gauze from the kit. You watch as he unscrews the cap and flips the bottle over, letting the cloth absorb some of the liquid before flipping it back and closing it. “This is gonna sting.”

He says that every time, and you chuckle softly in response. “Yeah, not my first time.” 

He doesn’t even crack a smile. He grabs underneath your chin again, dabbing your wound with the cloth, and you’re too focused on his mood to even notice the sting. A minute passes by, and you’re sure it’s clean by now, but he seems to be on autopilot, jaw clenched and eyes both focused in on what he’s doing and glazed over at the same time. 

“Dean,” you say gently, placing your free hand on top of his, stilling his movements and pulling him out of his trance. “I think it’s clean.”

Silence, except for the rain and the radio, which is quietly playing Is This Love by Whitesnake (not usually what this station plays, but it’s 2 a.m. and you figure they probably save the sappy 80s songs for this time of night). 

And then, “You can’t do that.” His voice is barely above a whisper. 

You furrow your eyebrows and tilt your head. “Do what?”

“Scare me like that. I didn’t – I thought –” he shakes his head, dropping his hand and placing the gauze back in the kit, along with the rubbing alcohol, before closing it and shoving it back under the seat. “Just – you can’t do that.”

“Dean, the storm came out of nowhere. We’ve split up on hunts so many –”

“And it’s never my idea!” he interrupts. 

“What do you want me to say, Dean!? ‘I’m sorry that God decided to flood the earth again while we were out hunting werewolves’!? I am fine , okay? I can handle –”

He cups your face in his cold hands, careful to avoid the fresh cut on your cheek. “I don’t doubt that you can handle yourself. But I can’t lose you, do you get that?” His face is inches away from yours, and the flashlight slips out of your hands and onto the floor as your breath catches in your throat. The radio starts playing the all-too familiar beginning chords of Night Moves , and you can’t bring yourself to do anything but nod. Dean tucks a strand of wet hair behind your ear. “I can’t lose you,” he whispers.

“I know,” you reply breathily. You place your hand over his again. “You won’t, De.” 

The corner of his mouth lifts up into a brief half smile – one that you would have missed had you not been watching his every move. His thumb brushes over your bottom lip with a feather-light touch, and all you can hear is the radio and the rain. 

“Your lips are freezing,” he comments, not-so-subtly (in true Dean fashion). 

“Shame there’s no way to warm them,” you whisper back, biting back a smile. 

“Hm,” he smirks, leaning in. “I can think of a way.”

You close your eyes as his lips meet yours, instantly sending warmth back into your body. Night Moves is still playing, and you ignore the irony as you kiss him back like not freezing to death depends on it. It’s not your first kiss with Dean, but it’s the first one that feels like it really means something, like you could be more than just friends who hook up occasionally. His hands move from your face to your jacket, unzipping it before he helps peel it off your body, your wet skin making everything a thousand times harder. He carelessly throws it into the front seat before his lips move to your neck and he works on getting his own top layer off. He finds your sweet spot right under your ear, one that sends warm shivers down your spine, and then his hands are back on your body, finding their way underneath your soaked shirt, trailing up your sides. His palms feel warm against your skin, and you don’t know if it’s the heat blasting through the vents or the adrenaline pumping through your veins, but you’ve never been hotter. 

The two of you separate for a few seconds and tug off the remainder of your clothes, everything landing in a nice pile on the front seat — muddy boots included. The cleanliness of his car is the last thing Dean is concerned about right now. 

You feel a lot more comfortable naked — meaning, you’re only wet where you want to be now — and you lean back in the seat, your head resting against the door, as Dean hovers over you, taking you in. The flashlight on the ground was your only source of light with the moonlight blocked out by the storm still raging outside. 

“You’re beautiful,” he states, not like an opinion, but like it’s an undeniable fact. Like if you were to look up ‘beautiful’ in the dictionary right now you’d find a picture of your face. 

You smile. “Thank you.”

His finger traces your jaw bone, his thumb gently outlines the scrape on your cheek. “I don’t think it’s gonna scar,” he says. You love it when he’s like this: pure and unfiltered, saying exactly what he’s thinking when he’s thinking it.

You chuckle softly. “Good. Be real ugly if it did.” 

His expression turns serious. “No it wouldn’t.” He states that like it’s a fact too, and you have no choice but to accept it. 

“Okay. It would be pretty badass, I guess,” you concede.

He smiles and nods, leaning down to kiss you softly, quickly, before pulling back and whispering, “Yeah, it would.”

He trails his kisses down your jaw, neck, collarbone, and you catch the next song on the radio — Feels Like the First Time — and roll your eyes and try not to laugh because of course . You’re brought back to the present when Dean’s mouth wraps around your nipple, his tongue flicking over the hardened bud as your hands instantly come to grip his wet hair. 

“Fuck,” you breathe, back arching off the leather seat, and he chuckles softly before releasing you with a ‘pop’. 

“That’s the plan, sweetheart.”

You roll your eyes again, but they quickly close as he moves to give your right nipple some attention, gently pinching the other between his thumb and pointer finger. Your moans cause his cock to twitch, and you feel it against your inner thigh, imagining what it must look like right now. 

“Please,” you beg, and you both know exactly what for. He gladly returns his lips to yours, before nestling himself comfortably (or as comfortable as one can get in the backseat of a ‘67 Chevy) between your legs, still damp and sticky from the rain. He kisses you hard as he enters you slowly, and you moan into his mouth as you adjust to his size. Nothing’s ever felt so good. 

“Jesus,” he breathes, pulling away momentarily and bracing himself with one hand on the fogged up window as he bottoms out and stays there, looking down at you like you’re the only thing that matters to him, and right now, you are. “Mm, fuck .” He starts to move, letting his head fall into the crook of your neck, his hot breath and soft groans doing nothing to help stall the tightening coil in your abdomen. “‘m never letting you out of my sight again,” he whispers.

All you can do is nod; he feels so good, you never want him to stop.

“Can’t fuckin’ lose you,” he mumbles, his face coming to hover above yours as he cups your unscathed cheek with his free hand. “You hearin’ me?” He shakes his head. “I can’t.”

You nod again, a little more aggressively this time. “I know, Dean. You won’t,” you reassure him through unsteady breaths. It’s your turn to shake your head. “You won’t.”

You hadn’t noticed his thrusts speeding up, too lost in your emotions until he hits a spot that you didn’t even know you had.

“Oh, fuck ,” you hiss, arching your back. “Fuck, right there.”

He listens, picking up the pace ever so slightly, his lips on your neck again, his heavy pants in your ear. “Shit, sweetheart, you feel so good.” He’s breathing so hard it’s barely audible, but you hear it clear as day, and it’s what brings you to the edge. 

“Fuck, Dean, I’m gonna —”

“Me too, me too.”

And then you’re tensing underneath him as a wave of pleasure washes over you, his cock twitching inside you as he fills you up, and he’s holding himself up on trembling forearms, desperately trying not to collapse on top of you as the exhaustion from the day finally hits you both like a tidal wave. Through heavy breathing you notice that it’s still pouring outside — probably deeming you stuck here on this no name road until it lets up — and that You Shook Me All Night Long is playing on the radio, and you can’t help but giggle softly and shake your head. 

“What?” he questions, confused.

“I think both the weather and the radio are demanding that we go again.”

TAGLIST(S)

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FOREVERS: @writercole // @makeadealwithdean // @slamminmine // @impala1967dwinchester // @wayward-dreamer // @stiles-stilinski-24-dylan // @deandreamernp // @kitkatd7 // @thewritersaddictions // @foxyjwls007 // @kyjey // @boeshaneboy // @besas-stuff // @babypink224221 // @stoneyggirl2 // @440mxs-wife // @sexyvixen7 // @samsgirl93 // @alwayssnivellus // @simpfoegeorge // @ajordan2020

SUPERNATURAL: @deans-baby-momma // @cookiechipdough // @roonyxx // @jassackles // @roseblue373 // @redbarn1995

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[cod-imagines-fanfiction]

Jealous Alejandro kidnaps Valeria's girlfriend part 8 (5.3k words)

Summary: Valeria unsettles Y/N with her scheming during prison. Alejandro is the first to know about some disturbing news. Warnings: mentions the term "rape" but it doesn't happen in this fic!! It's just mentioned so a heads up. Also Valeria being kinda scary and toxic but like what's new. Also lesbian smut Note at the end Link to A03 Links to masterlist with all the parts

Valeria watched you sleep, your face softly illuminated by the moonlight that leaked through the casement window. The sounds of your soft breathing, watched as your chest moved up and down, as you burrowed your face to Valeria's side. Circumstances were grim at the moment, you'd been jailed for about a fortnight in less-than-ideal conditions. None of your normal luxuries were available, your favourite items; trinkets and creams, the beautiful things you liked to surround yourself with. And yet, you never complained, not even once. It was amazing how much women could adapt, Valeria thought. How they could mould themselves to survive under any conditions. Valeria thought you'd be complaining throughout your whole jail period, but you didn't. Not when the water turned cold in the showers, not at the filth that clung to these walls no matter how much they were scrubbed. You did not complain about the constant surveillance, the lack of space or how hard the bed was. Valeria knew that it was because you were kind and did not want to make her feel guilty. Valeria wasn't happy about these conditions either but a part of her enjoyed this more than she should be. The two of you were constantly together, it was more time than you spent together even back home. Without the interruptions of work, you clung close to each other like puppies in a litter. Valeria stroked your hair and looked up at the sky. It was full of stars, the facility was so far out in the country that there was no light pollution. Each star shone brightly, the sky was a map of blinking constellations and the occasional shooting star. Valeria closed her eyes and made a wish. When she opened them, she gazed at the moon. It was full to the brim, shining a light on all this darkness. Valeria felt the culmination of all her efforts. As the moon filled up in the sky, she counted down the days.

She thought back to the nights the two of you spent together when you first got together. When you'd run to the beach to see the moonlight glimmer on the water. A towel stretched beneath you, the two of you bathed beneath the moonlight, it shone on your skin and you glistened like a diamond. You looked beautiful, ethereal even. Like a creature that had emerged from the depths of the ocean, sweet and otherworldly, reaching the shore just to lure your love back to the water. If you were ever to enter the glistening water and entice Valeria to follow you, she knew she'd follow you to the deepest parts of the sea. Anything for you. Valeria felt the moon as a steady passage of time, she'd think of how much life changed since the last full moon. And now that she gazed down at you, she knew you were ready for your next part. You were unaware of what would happen, of course. Things would go back to the way they were before, with Valeria in charge of the business and the hard things. The bills, payments, money, property. And you could go back to your world of trinkets and beauty, to whatever wonderland existed within your mind. A wonderland that Valeria never wanted you to lose, a spectral place that she'd guard forever.

When morning came, you went through your current routine. Washing first, breakfast at the dinner area, and you were now taking your daily walk. It was a privilege Valeria had managed to extract from the management's claws. The two of you paced the courtyard, exercising your legs. Finally, you sat on a patch of sunlight, plucking at the dry weeds with your fingers and scattering the whispy remains into the air. "What's wrong, my love?" Valeria asked as she leaned against the wall, watching you. The wind carried the muffled yells of the men from their side of the courtyard, which was separated by a tall stone wall and barbed wire. It disturbed your peace. "Nothing," you mumbled and grabbed more weeds. Valeria took a big breath. She felt you enter one of your special moods, grumpy and touchy but ultimately attention-seeking. There were moments where, to her shock, you'd grow insecure or impatient. When you weren't getting something you wanted fast enough, or when a negative thought burrowed itself so deeply in your mind that you struggled to move on. "Having troubles in your little mind palace, princess?" Valeria cooed and pouted down at you. You looked up at her and frowned back. You returned to your weeds. "I want to go home." You said finally. It was the first time you'd expressed your displeasure. Guilt enveloped Valeria's heart and she tried to swallow it down. "I know, baby. I know." She said softly, looking away. "I'll get my period one of these days and I don't want to spend it here." You said and lay back on the grass. The sun shone on your face and your hair, and you glistened once more.

Valeria nodded and looked to the side where a guard stood, watching. She kept looking as the guard spoke to his radio and started making his way towards you. "If he tells us to go inside I'll start screaming," you said and turned to the side. You quietened down as the man approached. "Garza, you have a call." He said and looked at Valeria. She wanted to make him point out which of the two of you he meant since you'd taken Valeria's last name. But she knew it was petty and no one would make calls to you anyway. You stood up, alarmed. "Not you, you stay here till she comes back." He said and took Valeria with him. She waved back at you as she followed the man.

Valeria's hair had gotten slightly longer in the short time you'd been here. Her hair grew fast and thick, she needed regular trimmings and she maintained them religiously. You watched with enjoyment as her hair bounced to the side, it almost reached her shoulders. You tried imagining Valeria with long hair, she would look beautiful with it. But it wasn't her style, ultimately. As you saw her leave your line of sight, you wondered what she was up to. Probably scheming, she was always doing that. You thought back to your girlhood and what you'd imagine your future husband to be like. It was a husband because anything else was unimaginable. It was always a faceless man, a blank canvas where his face was. You'd tell your friends this was so because you were not shallow and did not care what he looked like. But really, it was because you couldn't think of him as real. No face would fit him, you just knew you were meant to look forward to this man, even though you could never see him standing next to you. You smiled at yourself, thinking of how your ideal husband was a wife. For the first time, you understood what people meant when they said that home was not a place, but a person.

You didn't know what had happened during Valeria's call, but she was in an ecstatic mood when she returned to you. There was a perpetual grin on her face and her eyes glistened with satisfaction for the rest of the day. Later, deep into the night when the prison was 'closed' for the day, she could no longer keep it to herself. Her elated mood was obvious from the rigour of her lovemaking. She fervently kissed your breasts, tugging at them with her hands, cupping them tightly and squeezing almost till they hurt. She left bite marks on your skin and hickeys on the sensitive spots that made you squirm. You tried keeping quiet throughout all these, biting your lower lip to suppress your moans from escaping. Valeria's fingers worked on you sweetly, caressing your wetness. She'd cover your mouth with hers when her touches made it impossible to keep quiet. Your cry of pleasure was muffled and safe in her mouth, where she'd lick and bite, unrelenting with her fervent passion. You came on her hand, her curled finger was still inside you when she whispered, "We're getting out." You blinked slowly, your lips red and pouty, your body still reeling from your orgasm. "Really?" You asked quietly. Valeria kissed you again. "Yes, my love." She said. "Is that what the call was about?" You asked and put your head on her shoulder. You caressed Valeria's chest, wanting to reciprocate. "Yes. But promise me one thing, Y/N."

You looked up at her. Valeria's cheeks were flushed, her mouth slightly agape and her lips glistened like rubies. "Whatever happens, don't ask any questions. You don't have to do anything. Just don't ask anything." You were acutely aware that her fingers were still inside of you as she started very slowly pulling them out and then reinserting them. It made you hum lightly and twitch from the inside. You mumbled your assent. "Say it, Y/N." Valeria mumbled, her fingers moving faster. "Yes," you whispered and felt that warm, tingly ball of pleasure in your lower stomach tighten again. "Yes what, Y/N?" Valeria teased and brought her face close to yours, her lips almost touching yours, her eyes gazing down at your own. Valeria's fingers entered with more force and involuntarily, your legs spread further apart. Valeria licked her lips. "Yes, I will." You said, half-dazed, wondering if that's what she wanted to hear from you. You sensed that there was no right answer right now. Her fingers pumped faster. "Will what, Y/N?" "Whatever you want, Val." You squirmed and tossed your head back in pleasure. "Whatever I want?" Valeria asked very slowly, giving you a small peck on the mouth. You nodded vigorously, unable to use your voice.

"I want your silence, amor. I mean it." She said and ceased moving. You pouted in disappointment and moved your lower body for any scraps of pleasure, when Valeria suddenly placed both her hands on your hips, firmly. She stopped your movements. Something dark and cold flashed in her eyes then. The tenderness in your intimate moment was lost, as though you'd been gazing at the soft ripples of a river and the water suddenly turned black; contaminated. Valeria held tightly onto your hips. "I've done something terrible, Y/N." Her whisper was so low you almost missed it, her words vanishing as they left her lips. She kept looking at your eyes but unseeing, she was looking at something else in her mind. For the first time, you were frightened of her. Not afraid that she'd hurt you, but afraid of what she'd done to protect you. You knew Valeria was capable of many awful things, you knew she was capable of incredible violence and that she'd hurt a lot of people in her lifetime. Valeria's closeness with chaos never disturbed you, it was second nature to her and you were blindly accepting of it. All the terrible things she did never caught up with you. Until now, that is. You wondered that perhaps you'd grown too merciful of her. For the first time, you despaired at Valeria's intimacy with darkness, how it dwelled so naturally within her. How it would follow her wherever she went. "What did you do?" You asked with a frightened voice. Valeria tuned into your eyes again, feeling the undercurrent accusation beneath your words; it stung her.

"I did it for us," Valeria said with an emphasis on the last pronoun, a retort to your question. "You know I'd do anything for you, don't you? " Valeria nodded at you as she said this. The moon had moved from where it was when your lovemaking started earlier that night, it now barely illuminated half of Valeria's face. It created the eerie effect of seeing a half-formed person in front of you, someone eclipsed by shadows, a creature emerging from the darkness. She seemed almost like a ghoul crouching in front of you. You shook your head to dispel the frightful image from your mind. "You don't believe me?" Valeria's words sounded like a hiss in your ear, there was pain in her words. You realised how Valeria interpreted that slight shake of your head; your hands rose up to cup her face, it was cold. "Of course, I believe you." You said and pressed your lips to hers quickly, your heart hammered against your chest. You chided yourself for doubting her in your heart. It was true that darkness clung to Valeria like a sheet, but that was not all. There was love, too and where there was love there was fear. She was afraid to lose you - she'd already lost you when you were taken from her. And she would not lose you again. The worst things in this world were not done by bad people but by desperate people. And since this was all for you, how could you not cherish this? You continued pecking at her lips, mumbling sweet words to her. "Thank you for everything, baby. You know how much I love you, right?" Valeria mumbled something back and lightly returned your kisses; it was the beginning of your absolution. "Whatever it is, Val, you don't have to tell me. I won't ask about it, I promise." You said and lightly coaxed her to lie down on the bed. She gave in and slowly lowered herself, but her eyes never left yours. Her face was completely blank, you felt that she was cautious of you still. She would not forget your accusation so quickly, but she would soften in time. You knew how to do it, you'd done it many times before but each time stood on its own, separate from the others. You traversed foreign, unsafe waters each time, you felt.

Suddenly feeling self-conscious of your nakedness, you reached for your shirt but Valeria got to it first. She tossed it away and shook her head at you, her eyes burned into yours and she placed you on top of her so that you were straddling her. You almost smiled to yourself about what was to come. This is (almost) how you always redeemed yourself when you'd done something to trigger insecurity within your incredibly jealous wife. It was like the taming of a wild animal, your sensuality was in many ways your superpower when it came to Valeria. It made you glow from the inside. First, you'd look away from her shyly, as you did now. The ends of your lips tugged downwards into a soft pout. "I'm embarrassed, baby." You complained lightly and raised your hands so that they covered your nipples. Enough to recover your modesty but the space between your fingers teased her with glimpses of what was behind them. Valeria stared at your chest now, entranced. The softness of your skin, the curve of your silhouette, the loveliness of your mouth. The way your lashes fluttered like a butterfly as you looked at her and then away again So lovely, thought Valeria. The loveliest thing she'd ever had. Valeria's hand grabbed one of your hips and then travelled lower, the tips of her fingers touching your bare buttocks.

Absolution was bestowed on you after many caresses and kisses, your transgression was finally forgotten when Valeria finished. The two of you lay on the bed after, your bodies entangled and shiny with sweat. Many minutes passed like this, you watched as the moonlight left the room and you lay there, in the dark. The final pangs of orgasm faded, and silence hung in the air. Per your word, you remained silent on the matter but your curiosity gnawed at you from the inside. What was so terrible that could not be said? It was not something that would affect you, presumably. But it seemed to involve you, though not directly. It was well past your usual bedtime, but your mind would not quit. You feigned sleep but could feel that Valeria was awake next to you. No matter how terrible, the deed was done. It was all for your sake, after all. You thought back to all your years with Valeria, to all the casualties your love had created but that you pretended to not notice. The first casualty was Alejandro, who was cheated on and then abandoned. Then was your family as you just disappeared off the face of the earth, never to be seen or heard from again. Then there were all who'd died during Valeria's operations, all the people trambled on and double crossed to quench Valeria's thirst for money. Money that she swore would keep you safe, but hadn't. Then there were all the people killed recently during your kidnapping and then your liberation. There was a pile of bodies, both dead and alive, created just because you and Valeria wanted to be together. Yours was a selfish love, indeed. As you fell into an uneasy, guilt-ridden sleep, you wondered if that pile was to grow more.

-------------------------------------------------------

"Much has been written of love turning to hatred, of the heart growing cold with the death of love. It is a remarkable process. It is far more terrible than anything I have ever read about it, more terrible than anything I will ever be able to say." -from 'Giovanni's Room' by James Baldwin.

To be a man was not a given condition but a continuous effort, Alejandro believed. An effort that never stopped, it was a cup that needed to be constantly refilled as though there was a hidden leak. It was a condition that needed to be reinforced regularly. It took a lot to be a real man; hardened and unyielding. It was easy to be a man in front of women, you only had to be male. But to be a man in the company of other men meant to be singular. A real man had presence; he was the one barking orders and calling the shots, the one who made others avert their gaze when their eyes met. A real man changed a room when he stepped into it. A real man could outdrink and outlift his comrades. A real man was not fucked; he did the fucking. There was a hardness in his core that would never soften; rugged masculinity prevailed.

Alejandro's mind wandered on all these things and his accomplishments. He'd always dreamed of being the way he was now. A strong and feared leader of the Vaqueros, someone who ranked at the top of the Mexican Army. Someone who ran operations and succeeded. A man who got the job done. Masculinity was the armour he covered himself with when existing in the world, it was how he let others know he wanted to be treated - with respect. Not the respect that every person was owed, but the respect of a superior. And yet he never ceased to covet it, he always felt that he must reinforce his masculinity, to assert that he was a man. Alejandro had worked hard to make this happen. Blood, sweat and tears went into this work. It wasn't easy or natural for him. Sometimes, he wanted to give in to pain and desire so badly, to surrender control and indulge in what he really wanted. The foods he avoided because they would mess with his diet plan, the days of rest he craved but could not have because he worked out a lot to maintain his muscle. The touches he wanted to feel and deliver, but would never dare to. Because he was not soft enough to melt into love. He did not have the gentleness that was needed when handling women. And he was not sissy enough to dwell on the thoughts he had of other people. The intrusion of those images made him recoil in disgust when they materialised in his mind. No, none of these things would do. Because he was a man.

Alejandro looked at his reflection. He was in his dimly lit bathroom, touching his gruff beard, which was always trimmed but never cleaned-shaven. He could not stand the idea of having soft skin on his face, so he kept his appearance neat but not too fresh. His features were in no way soft, either. He had strong, intimidating dark eyes. The deep lines on his face - the marks of years gone by, the signification of his fast-approaching middle age - made him look experienced and yet, still, handsome. He brushed his hair roughly with his comb, no longer being gentle with his movements even though he still felt the remnants of pain from the injuries inflicted by Valeria. The savage slices on his wrists. Mentally, he was over it and he willed his body to do the same. Annoyingly, he'd been put on sick leave against his will immediately after Valeria's arrest. For his own good and recuperation, they said. Alejandro had sustained injuries, sure, but they were so minor and insignificant to him. It wasn't like he hadn't been injured before when answering the call of duty. He'd barely need anything more than some stitches and bandages. But no matter how vexed his protestations were, he could see that he was changed in his comrade's eyes and that he could not convince them that he was well enough to continue. As he walked around the headquarters, he noticed that soldiers could no longer meet his gaze. Their eyes darted to the side shamefully and with a jolt, he had realised it because they were ashamed of him. Over the course of this operation, he had become changed in their eyes; he was smaller, unreliable. Disgraced, he thought bitterly.

Alejandro's hands shook as he jolted the medicine cabinet open and reached for the white bottle containing his migraine medication. He shook the bottle and dropped two white, innocuous pills into his palm. He swallowed them dry, tasting their bitterness where they touched his tongue. He'd planned and executed this entire operation so quickly, he got them what they wanted! He said he would get Valeria and he did. He had achieved their goals, he ticked all the boxes. It was because of him that they were able to accomplish this mission! So how could they be so ungrateful? How dare they look down on him because he didn't go exactly by the book? It's not like he was the first to ignore some rules. Y/N wasn't the first (nor the last) civilian to be detained illegally. He didn't even touch her! He even expected Valeria's attack; she acted exactly how he thought she would, and he had let the 141 and Graves know this from the start. But now here he was, in his house in rural Mexico, under the guise of 'medical leave,' forced to take all the blame for the damage inflicted on the Mexican Army Headquarters. He returned the bottle to the cabinet and exited the bathroom.

He walked to his sparsely furnished living room with heavy steps, the wooden floorboards creaking beneath his feet. He sat down on his sofa and opened his laptop. He looked at the time; two minutes till his scheduled call with Laswell, perhaps his only ally at the moment. Laswell was strict about protocol but she and him shared the same vision and passion when it came to accomplishing their goals by any means necessary. No matter what strings needed to be pulled. He thought of Y/N for a moment, how frightened she was of him. He felt the memory like a hot iron. His breathing quickened and he felt that warm feeling he so often denied himself traverse across his body against his will. He tried to shake himself free of this feeling, these memories that kept pestering him when he least expected. The way she sat there so girlishly. She was a grown woman of course, almost as old as Valeria. And yet that youthful vitality clung to her like a wet flower petal. It was something about her wide-eyed gaze that made her emit this permanent girlhood. It made him hate Y/N even more, how she effortlessly proved her superiority to him. Her ungrazed beauty and distilled vitality set her apart from people like him. Who wouldn't commit adultery for her? And yet there was something warm floating in that sensation of hatred. Laswell started the video call and Y/N vanished from his mind.

"Buenos Dias, Laswell," he said. "Good morning, Colonel. How are you feeling?" She said. Alejandro noticed the trailing smoke of a cigarette floating behind her figure. The cigarette itself was concealed, but its smoke danced across the air freely. Alejandro felt the pit in his stomach harden. "Good, good. It's so nice and quiet here, away from everything. But I'm missing all the action." Alejandro noticed the tightness of Laswell's polite smile. She wasn't someone who indulged in ornamental displays of politeness, she was an American after all. And the fact that she was entertaining him so falsely worried him. "I'm glad to hear that," she said. Silence hung in the air, her artificial charm was wearing off. Alejandro swallowed down his anxiety. "So," he said and looked around, pretending something had caught his eye. "What are the other-"

"Valeria and Y/N are being released from custody." Alejandro's eyes snapped back to the screen. If his eyes could burn a hole through the laptop, they would've.

"What?" He said and felt anger lit up his chest from the inside. Laswell was no longer smiling. "There's no easy way to say this." She took a deep breath. "You are already aware of how precarious this operation was, Colonel. The seizure of an uninvolved civialian-" "Don't give me that bullshit, Laswell." He interrupted. "We needed her and it was to get Valeria out of hiding." "Yes, that is true. But you fucked it up." Laswell spat out and deeply inhaled a puff from her cigarette. Her hand shook slightly as she placed the cigarette on its holder. "Were you aware that Valeria was recording?" Laswell asked. Alejandro's anger froze. He thought back to their encounter, but his mind was blank. "Recording what? "She was wired and recording when she found you, during the attack. Did you know that?" Alejandro felt like something heavy was pressing down on him. He thought back to what Soap told Valeria as she was placed in the detention vehicle. 'You're going down for what you did.' That's what Soap said and yet Valeria flashed a devilish grin at him, her eyes glimmering with delight. It doesn't matter what I did, she'd said. It matters what you can prove. Alejandro seethed in his seat. "So, what? She's a criminal. She's running a fucking cartel and aiding Hassan with his missiles. Who cares about a stupid recording?" Laswell looked at him, moving her jaw slowly as she calculated her words. "You're aware that Valeria disclosed the location of these missiles. And the missiles are classified, so there is no use persecuting her for-" "Okay, so she'll serve time for the cartel business-," he interrupted and was cut short. "Valeria is threatening to sue for the kidnapping and rape of her wife, Alejandro."

The world fell silent in his ears, he could only hear the ringing sound from his blood rushing. Laswell continued. "I've seen the recording, Alejandro. It's ugly work." She worked more on her cigar, inhaling deeply all that nicotine. "Think about the optics here. Shadow Company, the 141 and Los Vaqueros teaming up to kidnap an innocent civilian and enable rape during custody. Do you understand how serious this is?" She did not look at him as he spoke. Alejandro could barely stammer out his words. When they came out, they were soft and full of fear. "Laswell. I would never do something like that. She is lying," his teeth clattered, he felt his whole jaw vibrate. "I never touched Y/N. I swear it." Laswell shook her head with a frown. "You certainly alluded to something in the recording, Colonel. You all but admitted to it." "I was bluffing to piss her off, I would never do something like that." He said and heard himself sound like a scolded, pathetic child. "I'm not blaming you for anything, Alejandro. I'm just telling you what we're dealing with. During an already sensitive operation, we're now facing exposure. We cannot allow this to happen. You understand this?" "So they're being released..." "Quid pro quo. We got the missile locations and discretion, they get to walk free."

It was like the world was pulled under from beneath his feet. He thought back to when Valeria entered the container back at the headquarters, how flushed she was from her run up to that point. The creases of worry on her face, the way she frantically looked around the room for Y/N. Alejandro could not resist antagonising her. He'd lied about doing things to Y/N because it only seemed fair at the time. That Valeria would face some sort of punishment for what she'd done to him. That was her supreme crime in Alejandro's eyes. It was never about the missiles. And like always, she came out on top. He gritted his teeth, she was always getting away with things. And not only that, but she always found a way to ruin things for others as well. Alejandro saw the contempt in Laswell's eyes, and he knew that he was now debased in her eyes forever. No matter what he said from now on, he could never redeem himself in her eyes. The shame of it burned in his chest. His fall from grace showed no sign of stopping, he felt the walls around him collapse. And then there was the other thing in the recording, the thing about Rudolpho...

"Laswell. How much of the recording did you see?" He could not look at her. "All of it, I'm afraid." She said. He could burst into flames from the shame he felt. So, she had seen it. Is that why she was looking at him like that? Laswell had a wife, it was true, but did that really make a difference now? Alejandro didn't know what was worse: that Laswell would look down on him for his ambiguous desires, or that she'd feel a silent allegiance to him. Both potentials filled him with despair. "Has anyone else seen it?" He asked. "No. I wanted to tell you about it before destroying it. There is no use in keeping it." Alejandro felt his heart lighten. "Am I being dismissed from service?" He said, looking at his window and the world beyond it. It was a dry season now, and he could hear the cicadas sing. The sound lulled his mind, he could think of nothing.

"No, Alejandro. I also called to tell you this. You've been requested back at the base, your medical leave has been cut short. As far as the others are aware, you're ready to get back to work. No one else knows about this." She continued telling him about the details, the date he was to report back to base, and what he'd missed since he went on leave. What the 141 were up to, that they sent their regards and wished him well. He heard it all like it was spoken to someone else. "Thank you, Laswell. We'll talk soon." "Of course, Colonel." She said and closed the call.

He stood up with the laptop in his hands and tossed it to the nearest wall. It shattered into a hundred pieces; he did not clean it up. When he left his house for good, the pieces remained there, scattered.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Note: Sorry guys I really wanted this to be the last chapter but this part already came out longer than I expected and I haven't finished the final scene to the point where I'm happy with it. And because I haven't updated in a while, I'll post this part and finish it off properly in the next part. Thank you for reading I hope you enjoyed it! And to clarify, Alejandro didn't assault Y/N! But because he lied and alluded to something like that in a previous part, Valeria decided to use it against him.

tag list: @justmare @silas-222 @m0rganit3 @blarba-girl @sleepiemain @caffeineliker @ashy-kit @00ops1e @lesvii @therapyneeds @lez-zuha @starre-eyes @7smexy7diva @hello-kitty-festival @konigmeu @cassiecasluciluce @gay-ass-country-boy @starwars-theclonewhore @bi-witch-bxtch @somnoslvt @ashthepillow @b3ns0ne  @idiotwrites @danart501 @deakyspuff @mistresssiri @angethehimbosimp @@sae1kie @00ops1e @yaebaal @p3arlier @xreals

[mytheoristavenue]

Day 4 -

SE Soul 'Eater' Evans - Holiday Light Show

Summary: After losing a bet, Soul is 'forced' to take you on a date to a holiday light show.

Warnings: tsundere!soul, no pre-established relationship, angst, reader has a crush on soul, pity date, fluff

"Aren't you ready yet?" Soul scoffed, lounging on your couch.

"Almost!" you called from the bedroom, nervously grooming your hair and smoothing out your outfit. "Just one second!"

The albino rolled his eyes, groaning something about how all women take hours to get ready. "C'mon already! I wanna get this over with."

Not at all disheartened by his complaining, you stepped out into the hall, beaming, waiting for his response. "How do I look?"

Behind the scenes, Soul was taken back. He'd never seen you in much else apart from your daily uniform and athletic clothes. Though he could never admit it to you or anyone else, you cleaned up nicely. "Fine. Now can we please go? I'm hungry."

Of course we can!" you flashed him a sweet smile, grabbing your purse and stepping toward the door, opening it for him. "After you."

Soul ducked out of the doorframe, not bothering to wait for you to do the same before descending the stairs of your building. This would be a very long night.

-----

You could hardly contain your excitement as the two of you neared the Death City Square. Billions of neon lights polluted the evening fog, making the sight visible for miles. Suddenly, you spotted vendors lining the streets near the entrance of the square, prompting you to grab Soul's hand enthusiastically. "Hey, look! Food trucks, you said you were hungry right?"

"Yeah," he responded nonchalantly, silently rigid under your soft touch. "Practically starving."

"C'mon," you chirped pulling him along. "How about you pick!"

"Obviously," he scoffed, cradling his chin in his hand, weighing his options. "If I'm gonna pay, I should pick the place."

"You were gonna pay?" you glanced up at him in awe.

"Well, yeah?" he retorted, deciding on a humble burger stand. "It wouldn't be cool for me to pay for myself and not pay for you too."

"I guess so..." you mused, giggling.

Walking up to the stand, Soul approached the window, giving the attendant his order, prompting you to do the same. "$15.32, please." The attendant said, scribbling down the order before handing off the ticket. Your date fished out a $20 out of his wallet and turned to hand it over, only to find the woman dropping change into your hand.

"What the-?" he asked, confused. "Did you pay?" Grinning, you nodded and dropped the change loosely into your purse.

"It's the least I could do." you answered, reaching up to the window to grab your drinks, before handing him his and stepping out of line.

"But why? I said I'd do it." he protested, taking the bag of food and carrying it to find a place to sit. "You made me look so uncool."

"I'm sorry, Soul." you apologized genuinely. "I only meant to be nice. Like I said, it's the least I could do."

"What do you mean by that?" he asked, taking a bite of his burger, which in turn, caused it to leak mustard on his shirt. "Ah damn..."

You giggled, fishing a napkin out of the bag and leaning forward to wipe it away. "I know you don't want to be here, the least I can do is buy you dinner for your troubles."

His eyes widened as he paused and lowered his food. "You know about the bet?" You nodded, taking a fry into your mouth. "For how long?"

"Since the day after you asked me. Black Star told Kid, and Kid told Liz and she told Patti and Patti told me." You explained nonchalantly.

"Does...it bother you?" he asked, guilt filling his stomach fasted than any street food could.

"A little, but I promised myself I wouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth." you confessed. "Just because it's not a real date, doesn't mean I can't enjoy it."

Your words had officially ruined Soul's appetite as he wrapped his burger back up and dropped it in the bag. "Sorry, guess I wasn't as hungry as I thought. I'll have it later." You nodded in acknowledgment. "You should hurry up and eat though, I wanna go see the lights." With that, you scarfed down your remaining food and disregarded of your trash before heading towards the entrance.

The entryway was a beautiful arch, decorated with twinkling lights that tangled every which way. Looking down into the exhibit, you were wonderstuck, until you suddenly felt a hand slip into yours. Glancing down, you found your bare hand enveloped in Soul's gloved one. Without meeting your gaze, he could feel your staring and responded. "Look's pretty big in there. I'm not gonna risk you wandering off and getting lost." Not wanting to ruin the moment, you simply nodded with a smile.

The light show itself was a maze of sorts, a twisting, winding tunnel of lights strung between trees and structures. Some lights blinked, and some softly faded into other colors. Others simply stayed the same. A few topiaries littered the path, each wrapped up with twinkling yellow stars. Needless to say, you were in awe of the sight, giggling and squealing with delight, dragging Soul to each new thing and forcing him to take photos of you.

Despite himself, the sythe was...actually having a nice time. The scenery was pretty, the weather was to his liking, and though he'd dreaded having to spend time with you all week, he found himself smiling, watching you dart around so excitedly. You were like a kid in a candy store. It was almost adorable.

As all good things do, the night eventually began to draw to a close, the chill beginning to bite and most visitors long gone. Soon the lights would be powered off for the night. It was time to go home. "C'mon," he said grumpily. "I'm about to freeze my ass off."

You turned back to him, slumping your shoulders. "Can't we stay a little longer?"

"No," he stayed firm, digging his hands into his pockets. "We got school tomorrow and it's already late. 'Sides, if I'm not home by midnight, Maka'll probably beat me to death." You caved, knowing he was right, and jogged up to his side.

"You're right." you sighed, bundling up into your coat. "Anyways, thanks for taking me out, Soul. Even if you didn't have much of a choice. I had a lot of fun."

The boy went rigid for a moment, before relaxing again with a faint smile.

"No problem. I guess it wasn't as painful as I thought it'd be." His taunts were finally beginning to wear down your chipper mood if only a bit.

"I'm sorry you didn't have much fun." you confessed, breath caught in your throat as the two of you walked. "I didn't think you would, but I was hoping I could find a way to get you to like spending time with me."

Soul paused for a moment, stuck in his tracks. "So, wait..." he began, swallowing a lump of feelings. "You've just been pretending to be all bubbly just to get me in a better mood this whole time?"

"Mostly," you answered bluntly. "I really did like going out with you, but it was kind of exhausting having fun for the both of us. I'm glad it's over." you laughed half heartedly.

Oh man, did he feel guilty. Taking someone who really likes you, only to be a jerk the whole night? So uncool. As you began to walk again, his hand snuck into yours and pulled you back. "Hey, wait," he protested, a slight blush dusting his cheeks. "I uh...I actually had a lot of fun with you, (Y/N)." Worldlessly, you tilted your head, prompting him to continue. "I guess...I just never really saw you that way and knowing you had this huge crush on me kinda put me off, ya know?"

You nodded in acknowledgment. You knew how you could be. "I know I tend to come on a little strong. It's just difficult for me to disguise my emotions. I'm sorry for making you uncomfortable."

"Well, listen," he started again, keeping your fingers in his grasp while itching the back of his neck with his free hand. "I haven't been very cool tonight..." he gulped, glancing away from you, clearly embarrassed. "How about we try again next week? I'll take you on a real date. Just so you know I'm a cool guy. Deal?"

Your eyes glossed over as you tried to hold in your tears. "I-I'd love that." you stammered, sniffling a bit. Swallowed by emotion, you stepped forward and hugged him, burring your face in his coat. To your delight, you could feel his arm wrap around you in return.

"And just for the record, you're little trick worked." he pulled back, flashing his signature sharky grin.

"What do you mean?" you tilted your head in confusion.

"Somehow you got me to like spending time with you."

[misc-obeyme]

omg the 4th wall break asks lately have been making me think about belphie in that kinda situation hahaha i might be predictable oops

you get home from long day at work and some emo guy owns your bed, he's already made a nest and gotten a good few hours in too. you don't even have time to be scared before he starts being super entitled about it too LOL like "ugh mc, what took you so long?? ive been waiting here forever... why are you just standing there looking shocked, seriously >:v "

also i hope you're having a lovely day!! <3333 sending lots of love!!

Ahhh hello Starr!! I am having a lovely day and I hope you are, too!! 💕💕

Oh Belphie would be such a little punk lol! And I kinda think if you try to ask him how he got there, he's having none of it. Who cares about those kinda details?? He's here now and he wants your attention! If you ask him why he made the effort to find you this way, he'll blush and brush it off.

And if you're tired from working all day, you know a little bit of cuddling with Belphie will help you relax. Maybe take him outside to look at what you can see of the stars (depending on the amount of light pollution at your location), so he can point out to you how they differ from the Devildom (I just think Belphie has knowledge of the human world stars, too... like he made it a point to learn them).

I think he would help you make dinner if you're hungry, too. He probably knows a decent amount about human world food just from hanging around Beel. He might complain about it... like c'mon MC he came all the way here to see you and you're making him cook? But he'll still stir the sauce or saute the veggies...

But in the end, Belphie would want you to join him in his newly created nest in your bed. Let him cuddle you to sleep, all warm and cozy and he'll make sure you only have sweet dreams...

I'd be worried that he'd get smothered by my cat. Like that one chat photo where all the cats are super attached to Belphie and Satan's all mad about it? My cat very much likes to sleep on the same pillow as me, so I'm imagining walking in to find her sleeping on his head. I'd be concerned about his ability to breathe. Also pretty sure this would make him my cat's new favorite person lol!

[rockethorse]

Calcinidae Bay Lot Tour: Marine Discovery Centre

I finally got around to picking the terrains I wanted to use for Calcinidae Bay's subhoods, so the Bay now officially has a(n as-of-yet unnamed) Downtown! Yay! Let's take a look through the only currently-finished lot there, the Marine Discovery Centre and Aquarium.

First I wanna shout out @dirtfauna for suggesting I build an aquarium and getting me thinking about this in the first place! As I was putting on the finishing touches I was also inspired by seeing @lolabythebaysims's gorgeous lot influenced by the Belle Isle Aquarium.

Before I get into the lot, I need to show the original Sims 4 shell for reference. It's "what the.. shell?" uploaded to the Gallery by simbellaz, and as you'll see, it was both perfect for and wildly impractical as the basis for an aquarium.

I don't normally go for shell challenges that have so many internal walls, but all those little 1-tile-wide hallways were practically SCREAMING to be made into fish tanks! The external "walls" you see added to my TS2 shell are all either actually half-walls, fences, or just windows placed with moveobjects, all of which are allowed within a standard shell challenge. It may seem like a cop-out, but it's more limiting/challenging than you'd think.

But enough preamble. Let's take a look inside!

The entrance is also a small gift shop. It seems like every aquarium I've ever been to has also sold jewellery. Don't ask me about my tiny penguin earrings.

I really wanted a "fish tank tunnel" vibe, and the effect was... almost perfect, lol. Close enough for a shell challenge IMO. I so so badly wanted to break my CC-free rule to place some fish shaders, but I'm glad I stuck to my guns because I think the solution I came up with looks goofy but effective. (Plus you wouldn't see them in build/buy anyway.)

Ooohhhh jellyfish tank ooohhhhhh they're so lifelike and graceful

I have my fun.

That little "airlock" room is a fun pirate-y undersea exhibit that connects to the outside and is probably where school field trips would loop around rather than heading upstairs.

Through the pirate's cabin is a touch pool and tactile play room where kids can inspect rubber anatomical fish models. I like to imagine the TV plays a short looping movie featuring a B-grade celebrity talking to a cartoon bass about the water cycle, fish spawn, and pollution.

The outdoor area is where the field trip groups would probably eat their packed lunches, fill out activity sheets, and take a commemorative photo with the world's worst greenscreen that's supposed to make it look like you're underwater but just ends up eating half your hair and shirt.

If you're not a student and you're just here for the love of fish, you'd probably head upstairs to get a closer look at the fish tunnel, smaller specialty tanks, and the squid/octopus models. (This room is technically considered outdoors thanks to the shell so tbh I'm not sure how lighting/temperature would behave during gameplay.)

The third floor has more tanks, some hands-on displays about aquatic plants and marine ecology, and finally a room with the actual floor-to-ceiling aquarium objects.

I thought this would be an interesting lot to run as an owned business, so I included a small employee area tucked behind the guest toilet block on the ground floor. It also helped to naturalistically answer "how would Sims feed themselves if their outing wouldn't stop complaining they were hungry," a concern I keep in mind whenever I make a lot I think would be a nice place to take a date.

And here's the floorplan! This lot had a pretty severe ugly stage but I'm really really happy with what we ended up with and the vibe I achieved without any CC. Hope you enjoyed reading this far and that it could give you some decorating inspiration!

[nocturnesmoon]

Chapter 3: Ghosts Of The Past

(Series Masterlist: Divine Violence) (Read on Ao3) (Inspired Playlist)

Series:The Divine Violence - Chapter 3: Ghosts Of The Past

Wordcount: 5.5K

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x John "Soap" MacTavish x Gn!Reader

TW: (View masterlist for series tw and tags) - DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, Religious Trauma, PTSD, Flashbacks, Hallucinations, Anxiety, Paranoia, Disturbing themes, Implied eating disorders, Jealousy, Past abuse, Underage drinking, vomiting

Description: Soap approaches you to eat lunch with him, you begrudgingly accept.

A/N: Wooo another chapter done! Finally getting into some of the angsty bits that's gonna be a gateway to things we're going to expand upon later in the story. Everybody stay hydrated and I hope you enjoy it!

[Prev chapter / Next Chapter]

The night is young and beautiful. Stars would cover the sky above you if it wasn't from the pollution of the city lights. You can still count a few, one, two, three, even four. They're bright here, one even seems to be blinking at you before you realize it's a plane.

It feels almost too ceremonial with the full moon in the sky, and Simon standing by the little makeshift fire in the pile of trash. It reminds you a little of your confirmation, years past by now. Though the church was a lot cleaner, the people like minded. Clothing of white making you shine in the sun, your proud mother with her uptight smile, and your father who had never before seemed proud of anything you did, now smiled warm toned at you.

You can still remember each word the priest spoke to you. Etched so deep in your brain it might as well have been carved into the back of your palm.

Thinking back to it, you realize it's different to this, so much different. The grittiness has a charm to it, but the real reason your nerves have skyrocketed is because of him. You take a step closer to the fire, watch him pop open the bottle of vodka. The one he had stolen from his father’s cabinet. Easier now that he wasn't home as much.

"Nervous?"

He grins at you, grabbing your fidgeting hand in his own. "We can still leave it be?" he offers kindly, but you quickly shake your head no. You had asked for this, you wanted to try it, because you knew the closest way you'd ever come to alcohol otherwise was the wine (Which wasn't even wine, it was grape juice) at the communion in church.

Simon had so graciously offered when you mentioned your want in passing. The curious nature in your soul wanting to try it at least once, even if you turned out to dislike it. You squeeze his hand, as if to jitter out your nerves. Being this far from home never felt good to you, a festering anxiety in your mind that your parents would find out and punish you.

There was a lot of things Simon could help you with, even take the fall for you should the situation call for it, but not this. No, this would be on you, and it would not feel good.

The fire crackles in front of you, something sharp snaps and brings your focus away from the bottle. You had no clue what was burning in there, but it provided a warm place for you to be so you didn't have much to complain about.

"Whenever you're ready Little Spider," he teases and brings the bottle to your hand.

You scoff and roll your eyes. "Does it really burn that bad?" you take the bottle with a small grimace. Your eyes nervously flicking from the liquid to him and back again.

"You seem very determined that this is what you want to do, so why don't you take a sip and find out?"

Another moments hesitance, and you bring the bottle to your lips. In the first second it doesn't burn, just so that the little thought of relief can enter your brain, before being squashed by the lit fire in your throat.

He quickly grabs the bottle away from you, when you start coughing and spurting. The sounds of your distress drowned out by his roaring laughter. His hand comes to pat you on the back, his eyes almost filled with tears from his laughter.

"Oh my oh my oh my, why why why did I do this."

"Oh c'mon, it wasn't that bad, was it?" he looks down at the bottle experimentally. Acting as if he hadn't tasted it countless times before. He brings it to his lips when your outburst calms down, taking a sip seamlessly, taking the burn proud and easy.

"How in the world," you sound astonished by his display. He tries to keep a straight face, but fails very quickly when he sees how you look at him like he's crazy. "Hey don't laugh!" you swat his arm, but soon fall into the laughter along with him.

The fire illuminates his face, casting shadows of you both behind on the wall. The soft orange glow makes some of his features stand out more than normal. His little scars close to his mouth that's normally almost invisible, now almost makes him look scary if it wasn't for how his face was lit up with joy.

"Oh wow," you grab the bottle back to read the inscription as if that would give you more clarity. "I don't understand how people drink stuff like this daily...I mean it's not that good."

His smile falls a little, his breathing catching up from the fit of laughter. "Well, drink enough of it and you'll start to feel funny," he explains simply instead of doing in-depth.

"Huh..." you look at the little alcohol percentage on the bottle, "have you been drunk before?"

He doesn't respond immediately, almost as if he seems ashamed of it. "A few times," he admits and trails closer to the wall, "with a few other guys from school." He leans on it, crossing his arms over his chest. It makes him look edgy, his dark attire and the illumination of a dumpster fire. He looks older than he is like that.

You come closer, tilting your head to the side slightly. He looks at you tentatively, taking in all that is you, the way you look, the way you move, the way you position yourself in front of him, so very close.

"What else have you done?" you ask in a knowing tone that didn't know much at all, "that you haven't had the heart to tell me about yet?" His eyes widen slightly panicked for a moment. You already know how he's compiling an excuse in his brain, or some way to explain himself away from anger, but you aren't angry.

"I just didn't think it was your thing...didn't want to bother you with it...make you feel like you had to," he explains quickly. You shake your head, making sure to give him a small smile as reassurance. His shoulders sag more.

"It wasn't..." you tell him, “But now I’m curious."

"Are you now?" his voice turns back to teasing. How you'd love to smear that smug smile off him, one way or another.

You bring the bottle to your lips, drinking way more than you probably should.

"Yeah, so let's find out."

Your throat burns whenever you throw up. It's become a much more frequent occurrence. The stress of your problems taking wear on your mind. You're no more surprised to find a singular grey hair protrude from your scalp, than you are from the blood mixed with bile in the sink.

That had been your breakfast most likely. The only meal you had found yourself able to sneak away to eat in peace of your assigned room. It left your stomach empty again, the pained hollow feeling you despised despite how much of your life was spent in it.

You'd take anything over this. Oh, how you wished you could be like anyone else, the majority of the reasons to throw up being a hangover, or being sick. Though alcohol hasn't touched your lips in years.

The fluorescent lights blink above you, the little buzzing drowned out by your heavy breathing. The space is better than what you've had the past while, but you did miss the privacy of the motel. People had a tendency to stare here.

You turn on the water, guiding it along with your hands to wash away the bile. Blood trickles down from your knuckles, the split ends of flesh flaking off the bone. You can see the white underneath. The sound of the door opening brings your attention away from it. You avoid the mirror despite its desperate pleas.

No what you can't just leave me here! Please you can't be serious! You're just going to let him keep me in here?! Please just look at me, don't go.

You look towards the mohawk showing itself first.

When you first met Soap, you had been taken aback. He had a very intense personality, a fire within that outshined in his actions. You have yet to determine your own disposition on him. He's friendly enough towards you, all things considered.

"Ah there ye are." He's been standing outside that door for who knows how long. He likely heard the wretched sound as your stomach gave in on itself. Why he chose now to step in, eludes you.

You clear your throat, the hunch in your back stretching out after you turn off the running water. Your fingers run over your knuckles; the wounds gone. "Do you need something?" keeping your voice steady and polite proves a more difficult task than you'd like it to.

"Have ye had lunch yet...?" he's being careful with you. It's a revelation you didn't expect to have for him, did he figure something out he shouldn't have? Does he know?

"Ah was gonna invite ye to join us this mornin' for breakfast, but ah couldn't find ye." Good that had been the intention. A part of you did recognize you couldn't hole yourself away forever though. You were already the odd one out in the group of four.

"Oh.."

Your voice is too weak

The mirror echoes.

"Right...I..."

You clear your throat again, it feels too constricted, the air in here is not enough for you.

You catch yourself in his vibrant blue eyes. You could see an ocean in them, the beautiful waves at sea, the smell of salt in the air. You can feel the surgent winds ghosting over your skin, the sting and burn as water enters your lungs, a warm hand on the back of your neck holding you down. A faraway chanting of prayer echoes muffled in your ears.

"No...I haven't" you try to muster a smile.

"Good," he says pleased "ye're with me then."

The sea is faraway.

The mess hall is the exact kind of hell you expected it to be. Loud, obnoxious, filled with potential social threats and unnecessary questions on the verge from the man sitting in front of you. The only bit of luck you seem to have kept, shows itself in the lack of soldiers here at all. Most of them had likely already eaten.

The meal Infront of you looked anything but appetizing. Yet Soap seemed all the more happy to devour it with no complaints. He's been talking your head off ever since you sat down, clueing you in on things at base. Most of it is useful information you manage to retain, but after awhile your ears goes deaf despite how much you want to listen.

Though you have to admit that it sounds like they're a tight knit group. The 141 formed quite awhile ago, managing to take out several high-level threats. It made sense to put them up against the divine principle, but you couldn't help the doubt in your mind that anything would come of it. Even if you managed to take the group down once more, they would just resurface years later until you took out the root of the problem.

You had failed to do it once.

"...are ye listening?"

Your eyes flicker up from your murky food, locking eyes with Soap. What the hell kind of name was that anyway. Was he good at cleaning dishes? A lot of code names tend to be teasing or insults, so maybe he got teased for it?

"Yeah," you reassure him by briefly giving him your undivided attention. You'd quickly trail out again.

"Ye can tell me to shut up, ah know ah talk a lot" he doesn't sound ashamed of it, but you can hear the hint of self deprecation. Someone's definitely shamed him in the past. You had no intention to do so, you quite preferred people who talk a lot. They talk fast, easy, and typically give way more information than they should which paints you a better picture. A bonus point that it fills out the silence you bring.

"No... it’s nice," you mutter and pick up your fork. You might as well try to fight some of it down, you hadn't even touched any of it yet, and Soap was practically done even with his rambling.

You didn't know whether the lack of people in a typically populated space made you more or less anxious.

"So, ye used to hunt these people a few years ago?"

You meet his eyes for the first time in what feels like forever. You're not sure what you were supposed to find in them, but definitely not the curiosity that shines. This entire taskforce is playing with a hellfire they do not understand. It's practically impossible to take it down, even from within, lord knows you've tried.

"Yeah."

You could bite your lip bloody trying to think of ways to continue the conversation from here. He goes wildly quiet for you. Is he expecting for you to elaborate? What does he even want you to say? What were you allowed to say? What did they know? How much information is appropriate over a lunch in a very public area?

You were starting to regret your decision of agreeing to all of this. You hadn't even started and the stress was pulling you down under.

"They're hard to find, even with a full team" he shakes his head amused, "ah can't even imagine what it must've been like hunting them practically all alone."

"I wasn't alone."

He seems surprised. Good.

Kate hadn't told them every detail.

"They were tenacious then; I don't doubt the group wont behave much different this time around. They always end up with the same values, the same goal." You ramble on, catching yourself by biting your tongue.

"What's the goal?" he asks.

"Doomsday preppers in a nutshell, just add a slimy layer of misguided religion on top of it." You finally take a big bite of your food. It slides down your throat slowly, the dryness, or size catching you off-guard.

Soap slides your glass closer to you. "Not new, but also not every day ye see it to this large of an extent."

"It's been organized for years now, they're not likely to stop from a threat from the authorities. Only way is to take out the roots." You mumble on after getting your throat cleared. There were quite a few ways to go about doing that, all of them left an acidic taste in your mouth.

You could see the way he wanted to ask more. He should refrain, wait for it all to be revealed in proper time instead of probing you for information in an informal interrogation. A quite nice one at that.

You had yet to decide on how close you wanted to get to him.

John MacTavish, Soap.

He was a sergeant, chatty nature, one for jokes, witty, smart. A person worthy to note, despite rebellious appearances.

The captain had yet to earn your respect, and likewise yours his. He was impressive on all accounts. He would also be the first person to throw you off this mission at a sign of weakness. Valuable in its own right.

Kyle was indifferent towards you, a bit cold perhaps, though he seemed a gentleman when it came down to it.

Ghost was......Simon.

You didn't know what you expected when you met Simon again. He's a lot more different than you thought he would be. Taking on the persona of Ghost, you suppose you can't blame him for needing an escape, but the motif still stirs something awful in your chest. Neither of you really got over it.

Maybe you'd have preferred it if he wasn't so aloof with you, a bit more direct in your long-awaited reunion. Perhaps it would have been better if it had mimicked TV, the rain and yelling and screaming in a scenic location to make it more meaningful to you. Unfortunately, reality tends to be far more boring.

"So did he always wear that mask?"

"Ghost? Aye, as long as I've known the bastard," he chuckles "can ask Price about before that, he's known 'im the longest."

There's a pang in your heart, something that feels an awful lot like a drop jealousy, but you can't allow that. It wouldn't be one bit fair. If you were the one to walk away from him then, were you really allowed to feel anything at all for him? Certainly not jealousy over the new relationships he'd build. You should be happy, you really should.

But how dare he abandon you so fast.

You shake your head free of the feeling. Wrongful, wishful, thinking wouldn't change the truth nor the fact he was supposedly better off here.

"Known him long?"

"Ever since we got assigned on this taskforce, give or take a few years now. And Ye?"

"Old acquaintances."

There's another sting in your heart that burns something fierce. All the nights you had spent wishing you were still in contact with him coming back to you. Times when it felt like a single word from him would make life worth living again. A single glance from him could make it worth anything.

You tried to ignore that bit.

But the mask had a symbolism you didn't like any better. You'd only be arrogant to think or claim that you still knew him and his thoughts, but it was still distasteful. Had he forgotten? You had both ran from it, difference was he now wore it on his face and you watched it creep in the shadows.

You had always hated the cold streaks in first signs of winter. When the temperature went freezing, the trees losing their colour, the sun hiding more often now behind threatening clouds. However still no snow. All the unfortunate parts with none of the benefits.

And standing on Simon's freezing front porch didn't help. He was taking too long. It had been half a minute since you rung the doorbell. Where the hell was he? His parents were supposed to be out, and despite his little brother still being home, the two of you would take any opportunity you could take.

You wrap your jacket closer around you. The biting frost nipping at your cheeks and nose. For a moment you debate whether you should ring the bell again, but you remember his words clear, he had told you to just go in, even if it felt wrong to do that without a formal invitation straight from the door.

You hadn't been here too many times. Some part of yourself too scared that the smell of smoke would sting your clothes, and that your parents would know exactly where you had been. You needed to be careful, one wrong decision and they'd forbid you from seeing him again.

You aren't sure if you could handle that.

The door creeks when you open it, too loud for your taste. It makes you grimace. You try calling out for him, to no response. There's a smell of freshly baked bread, likely at the hands of his mum.

A smile tugs on your lips, your stomach twisting hungrily in your body. Hurriedly you kick off your shoes, and hang up your jacket, emerging in the home's living room. For a moment you wonder if anyone is even home, it feels cold from the lack of interaction.

"Simon?" it's not like him to leave you alone like that. Was he even home?

You tiptoe towards the hallway peeking down the dark way. When you stare too long, the shadows move occasionally, takes shape like moving smoke. Another time you softly call his name, slowly coming up to Simon's and his brother’s bedroom.

It's cracked open very slightly, the shine of light coming from the slit. It illuminates the dying flowers placed neatly on a bookshelf. You move to open the door, but before you can get there, you feel a tap on your shoulder.

The hairs on the back of your neck rise, the subtle warm breath from someone else hitting your skin. It felt wrong, and in the back of your mind you knew who it was, what he was doing. You whipped around, the fear having already seeped into your eyes. You were ready to shield yourself, stare into the tall figure that looked like the personification of death.

The scream that erupted from your lungs, weren't only of fear but also from genuine shock. The figure wasn't tall like you had expected, instead you had to glance downwards to meet the eyes behind a white skull mask. You stumble backwards, crashing your body against the door and falling all the way down to the floor.

The boy stands above you, a fit of psychotic little giggles come from him which make your stomach churn with disgust. He holds a butterknife in his hand. It's the only reason you haven't gotten up yet as you stare at his display, trying to mimic his father.

"Tommy what are you doing!" you shout out offended. You hope it covers the tinge of fear you carry. In no universe should Simon's little brother look like this, in no world should he be able to scare you this badly.

The antsy sensation isn't just from the initial surprise, it swirls in your blood at the sight of a raised knife. It doesn't matter that it isn't sharp, it doesn't even matter that it's not directly pointed at you.

It makes you remember. The late nights, the early mornings, the fights that took place within your own home. The list of threats you'd heard, you could recite them as clear as your favourite quote from your favourite book.

"Tommy...put down the knife." You don't hear the tremble in your voice but he does. He tilts his head; a line of light falls over the skull mask. His eyes are illuminated beneath it, they carry nothing but distaste for you.

He's never liked you. You were fine with that, but this is just too far. Where was Simon anyway!? If Tommy was home then he should be as well, maybe even his mother if anything at all.

Like a saving grace, an angel sent from the heavens, you hear his uncertain voice call out shakily.

"Tommy what are you doing, give that to me."

Simon pulls you even closer to his form, your legs shift from how you're sitting halfway into his lap. He had practically forced you this close when you started to complain about the cold. Not that you minded the proximity itself.

"Are you sure we can't just lock a room, so he won't disturb us?" You nuzzle closer into his side. A big breath exits your lungs, it rises upwards like a little cloud. His arm pulls your jacket closer around, his hand settling on your waist to give you a little squeeze.

"We're fine here," he mumbles into your hair "got you all to myself."

"I know," you say exasperated "it's just why would he do that...it's not...its..."

You don't know how to formulate your words right. It's hard to explain exactly what you saw from your perspective on the floor. A terrifying display you never want to see on Tommy's innocent face again. That look was reserved for his father, not that you were any happier seeing it on him either.

"He's been acting up...mood swings and all that" Simon sighs and shakes his head. "He's done it to me too a few times when mom and dad are fighting...I... don’t understand it. Even when dad brought that snake in, he was all giddy...I don't think he really understands," Simon confesses.

"Wait, what snake?!" you manage to pull yourself away from his arms. You stay close in his hold to keep sharing body heat, but you raise yourself on your knees so you're looking down at his face. "Your dad brought a snake into your home, to you, and he just laughed?" you sounded pissed off, and rightfully so you were. He'd never told you this before now.

"Yeah, were years ago now but..." he raises a hand, his thumb brushing over to dull marks above his lips "it bit me."

Your eyebrows furrow and you have to hold yourself back from not yelling out in frustration. You bite down on your own lip hard, and reach a hand up to gently run your fingers over the two scars in the form of dots. He closes his eyes as he feels your skin on his, let's out a shuddering breath. He always gets like this now at your touch, he always seems so affected, always positively.

In the beginning you thought it was just hormones, puberty for him now that you're both well into your teenage years. A round of "Boys will be boys," as your mother would keep saying whenever you told her how you saw the boys at school pick on the girls in the most horrendous ways.

Simon's a boy but you've never seen him be that cruel. And then you started to think it might just be you he's like this with, that to anyone else, any other girl or boy that gets close never gets to see him have this kind of reaction.

He opens his eyes and your breath catches in your throat with an ugly little sound. It makes you snort, giggling into your hand as you listen to his rumble of a chuckle. His arms snake around your waist, bring you in closer, pressing your bodies up against each other as much as can be.

He looks up at you like you're the only person in the world.

Like you're everything to him, as if you were to go his world would collapse around him. And you know it's true because you feel the same way. If he were to ever leave, you wouldn't know how to function, you wouldn't have an escape from the abuse, a person to keep you afloat when you're drowning.

You lean down a little to place a soft peck just above his lips, on the dotted scars.

You're not sure what true love is, but if you'll ever have a chance at it, it has to be this. There can be no other explanation for that glint in his eye reserved only for you.

He looks at you with pure love.

Soap looks at you expectantly. The dull sounds of the mess hall fill your ears again, you didn't even realize you zoned out. You only pray it wasn't for an unusually long time.

"We knew each other way back, before he joined the military I think." You try your best to play it off as not a big deal. As if you hadn't been in deep with him once upon an easier time. You doubted Simon would want to bring more attention to it than necessary when it came to his teammates.

"Before? Woah, can finally say ah know someone who knew the legendary ghost before he became ghost." He sounds pleased with himself. You don't understand the difference.

Like speaking of the devil himself, the tall dark figure with a mask you wanted to rip off him, emerged into the hall. It didn't turn many heads, but the way you whipped your head dramatically brought Soap's attention to him as well.

"Well...speak of the devil..." he mumbled. You could hear the smile on his lips without looking.

It's a bit late to come in for lunch, but when you think about it you didn't see him go eat with the others, while you were actively avoiding them. He would always retreat into his own room or office, like you would do.

Both you and Soap watches as he goes up to select what his lunch will be. Occasionally you glance towards Soap, observing his interest in Simon, you try to gouge at their relationship. They'd likely be good friends, having a soldier camaraderie for years now. It made you wonder if Soap would now qualify as one to know more about the boy you used to be so close with, than you do yourself.

You look back to Simon, trying to get a proper glimpse of his mask again. You have to bite back an annoyed groan when they flood your vision again.

The shadows encompass his mask all around. They block out the once dirty white with a coal black. It moves around like a mass, obscuring his face, his head taking on spiky ends, then blocky, then smooth. It makes him look like the creatures in the mirrors, the only thing left being the uncanny clear view of his eyes.

They're so visible to you that they freak you out more than the moving shadows, looking straight out of an uncomfortable picture you'd find on the internet. When he finally picks up his food and turns to your direction, your breath catches in your throat with an ugly little sound.

Soap looks at you concerned, but you wave him off quickly taking a big gulp of your water.

You look back to see exactly what you thought it was. You'd recognize that look on him anywhere from just his eyes. People say eyes are the windows to someone's soul, you don't know if you believe it for everyone else or even yourself, your eyes look so dull in the mirror, but for Simon it's the truest statement you've heard.

Despite the time apart, that look is burned into your retinas. It's been an image you clung to over the years, you last remnant of him, something to remind you of what you once had.

And he's looking towards you, like he used to do.

He's looking towards you with an expression you haven't seen in person in years.

He's looking towards you with a look of love you'd never think you'd see on his face again.

He's looking towards you with such devotion that someone like you doesn't deserve from someone like him.

You realize it too late. You glance away from Simon and look to the man sitting in front of you

He looks at you with pure love.

He's not looking at you.

Are you seriously jealous over a man you haven't seen in years?

You know it's pathetic. You know it's nonsensical. You know you shouldn't.

Yet you pace back and forth in your room, the shadows louder than they've ever been in months. They corner you in on every side, lunge out at you when you get too close to the walls. Their thousand little voices overlap in a chorus of insults.

Vile, pathetic, weak, useless, killer.

Your hands raise up to cover your ears but it does nothing to dampen the intensity. Your clothes feel too tight on your body, the air too humid, a certain place in the room burning hot with agony and shame. The little space under your bed. The bag with the letters that once brought you comfort.

They burn hot even from a distance. A rush of hot and cold going through your bloodstream. Ice beneath your skin one moment and boiling blood the next.

Did he ever even look at you like that? Wasn't it different back then? He had the dumb puppy love for you none of that was real.

"Shut up," your voices breaks in your throat and comes out a meek whisper.

Just take a look at those pathetic letters.

"No..."

Each one of them so much later than the next. Spaced out perfectly to leave you in the dark, first a week then two then a month then two months then...

"Shut it!" you shout out with the animalistic ferocity you've been taught. The shadows retract slightly, giving you more room to breathe. Normally you try to ignore the voices that go through your head, you've found answering them only encourage their absurd bait. They could taunt you all they wanted. Voices instilled by vile men in your life, repeated over and over and over and over and over.

Until they manifested themselves within your skull and refused to leave.

In a way you know the things you are seeing aren't real, but it feels so solid. All of it just your fragmented mind trying to make sense of what you were forced to see. None of it could be real.

Sometimes you think that you could actually reach out and touch them, but anytime you've tried they just retract further away from you. You've always hated how it swims in your vision, distracts you from what's actually important.

You look towards the bed, under it, the bag, the letters that almost flood out of it from where you've thrown it. They call to you, scream at you so silently. Your legs are sluggish like walking through water as they carry you there. Your fingers touching what feels like knives as you pull out the nearest letter.

The little piece of paper he left on your bed before he left for the military.

To my love, my dear little spider

You read quietly, the whisper barely even audible on your lips.

I'm sorry that I have to go. Don't fall apart without me, okay?

See you soon, your Simon

Likes, Reblogs and comments are always appreciated, love ya! <3

Taglist: @chickennn-soupp @unlikelyaperson @ghostlythots @lilynotdilly @islnd-vybz @spicyspicyliving @kaoyamamegami

[hotgirlmav]

Best Behavior — Tom 'Iceman' Kazansky x Reader

Pairing: Tom ‘Iceman’ Kazansky x Female!Reader (18+)

Description: Iceman has never been known as one to lose his temper. Secure in every single thing in his life, you, his girlfriend, happened to be no exception. During a night out at the bar, he witnesses a man with an ego almost as big as his try to flirt with you. Naturally, he contemplates murder.

Warnings: Explicit language, unwanted flirting, alcohol, an abundance of dirty talk, allusions to smut, minor humiliation and degradation kink, severely possessive Iceman, teeny Slider and Maverick cameo. Teehee.

Word Count: 3,146.

A/N: My very first request!!! Possessive Iceman will be the death of me, I fear. 🫡

Requests are still open!

With the sound of the car coming to a complete stop in a parking spot that might as well have belonged to Tom Kazansky, you knew you had officially arrived at The Officers Club.

It was a typical Friday night. The sun had just finished setting, and the sound of chatter from inside the club began to fill your ears. At that point in time, the sound of glasses clinking and the faint music playing felt like a mere familiar tune. With how frequently you attended that bar with your boyfriend, anyone else in your position would have gotten sick of such a sight and sound. You, on the other hand, couldn’t have gotten enough of it. You would have endured the most shrill noise pollution and the blinding lights if it meant that you could spend a night out with Tom. With how engulfed he was by work recently, you felt as though you were in no position to complain about time you could be spending with him.

Just as your right hand found the handle of the car door, you felt his large hand practically blanket over your left hand, causing you to turn your head to look at him.

Now, that— that was a sight you couldn’t get enough of.

His full lips were parted in a way that authentically conveyed his comfort, yet the look in his green eyes told you just how serious he was. The way you could see his body already tense at the realization that he was about to be in public mesmerized you. You loved Iceman for many things, and it was incredibly safe to say that his looks weren’t low on that list. His heart held a warmth that you had never known and his personality had you hooked from the moment you two first locked eyes, yes, but that face? That body? Forget it.

Had he not spoken in the next few seconds, you would have probably begun to drool.

“You know what I’m about to say.” He softly stated, earning a soft grin from you as you nodded your head. The sight of your smile was enough for him to return one, his thumb stroking over your knuckle for a moment. He brought your hand to his lips and pressed a light kiss to your skin, nodding his head. He set it down in an instant and pushed his aviators down onto his face, getting out of the car. Before you could even think about getting out, he was opening the door for you.

Of course you knew what he was about to say. To be quite fair, you two were there almost every Friday, so it’d be more concerning if you hadn’t.

He would usually go on a rant that lasted no longer than ten minutes, but no less than five. He would diligently inform you of just how attractive you were and how he wouldn’t be the first nor the last naval aviator to think so. While he knew his friends and colleagues were not stupid enough to cross him in such a manner, he was a man, and he knew how men tend to think. The very last thing he wanted to think about was you being the subject of any desires that weren’t his own.

Despite him not wanting you to heed his warnings about anyone else, you were his main priority. Your comfort remained the first and most important thing in his mind, which he always made a point of telling you. If at any point you found yourself uncomfortable, you were to tell him and he would rectify the situation. If anyone in particular was making you uncomfortable, he would handle them before anyone else had time to think. If it was all just too much and you were no longer having fun, he would drop everything and you two would go home. He preferred for you to stay close to him throughout the night, and that is something he made very clear to you. He didn’t like it when you wandered out of his sight. Unbeknownst to him, that was something you did when you wanted to feel that relief of finding you later on.

Iceman wasn’t controlling by any means, though. You understood that he was just very protective, and in a way, you were too. If a woman approached him at the bar, he would almost count the seconds until your hand was in his and a dirty look from you was shot her way. You wanted the world to know that he belonged to you, and that was absolutely no problem for him. Not when he wanted the world to know that you belonged to him.

With your hand in his, he was now leading you into the building, your fingers intertwined with his. He held the door for you like the gentleman he was, and in no time, you two joined your party.

After giving what felt like too many pilots small hugs and kisses on the cheek, you couldn’t help but grin at everyone around you. You knew that beneath his cool posterior and the enigma that was Iceman, there was Tom. Tom loved nothing more than being surrounded by his friends, being close to you, and flying. You truly were the only one who knew just how warm he was.

“I’ll be right back. I have to use the bathroom.” You found yourself whispering into Iceman’s ear, standing on the tips of your toes to do so.

In the process of ordering drinks for the pair of you, he simply nodded his head and turned his head to face you momentarily. Pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head, he turned his head back to the bartender.

Right when you turned to make your way to the restroom, you felt his hand grip your wrist just like it did in the car. Furrowing your eyebrows, you looked back at him.

“I’ll keep my eye on you.” He informed you as a form of comfort, seeing as he knew you were going alone.

You couldn’t help but giggle at his words, your eyebrows still furrowed. “Yes, Tom, I’m well aware.” You playfully responded, shaking your head.

Still, he didn’t let go of your hand.

His tongue briefly darted out of his mouth and returned once it wet his lips, followed by him taking a sharp breath. He inched a bit closer to you and tilted his head, slowly dipping it down. His lips were merely centimeters away from yours, causing your heart to stop and your breath to hitch in your throat. Even after how long you two had been dating, Iceman was no stranger when it came to taking your breath away.

“No funny business tonight.” He whispered, his cold minty breath hitting your lips in a way that made you refrain from opening your mouth. “I expect nothing less than your best behavior. You wouldn’t want me to have to bend you over in front of everyone and let the world know what a dirty little whore you are, would you?”

His words made your eyes momentarily widen as you bit the inside of your cheek to prevent an obnoxious giggle from coming out. Nevertheless, you had a cheeky smile plastered across your face as you turned your head, practically shying away from him. You contemplated just telling him you wanted to go home right then, not wanting anyone to know how worked up you were getting.

Noticing your reaction, Iceman chuckled under his breath and brought your hand to his lips once more, pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckle. “Be careful.” He hummed to you, finally letting go of your hand.

Within the next few minutes, you were in and out of the bathroom. Your hair and makeup were freshly touched up, something you did every time you were privately in front of a mirror.

You noticed that your boyfriend was chatting away with Slider and Maverick, the drink he ordered for you in his free hand as he sipped his own. Just as you began to make your way over to him, you were stopped by a tall figure stepping in front of you.

“Excuse me.” He quickly stated after he saw you practically stumble at the way he cut you off, a charming smile on his face.

Your eyebrows were furrowed as you finally looked up at him. He was an attractive man, that was for certain.

However, he was no Tom Kazansky.

The man began to introduce himself as anyone would, not aiding your confusion in the slightest. Due to the fact that Iceman was in a conversation and the fact that the man had practically backed you into a corner, you decided to just fall prey to what you believed would be a brief conversation. You kindly introduced yourself in the way you would to anyone, still making sure to sound reserved.

“Can I buy you a drink, pretty girl?” He asked with a smirk that made your stomach turn in disgust. Still wanting to be nice, you gave him a soft grin and shook your head.

“No, no, that’s okay. My boyfriend actually has one for me; he’s over there.” You said lightly, pointing your index finger towards the distinguished pilot. The man turned his head and set his gaze on the man you were pointing at, causing him to chuckle.

“You’re here with one of those pilots?” He laughed out loud, looking back at you. He noticed the kind facade you had on your face disappear as you dully stared at him. You didn’t even give him the satisfaction of nodding.

He cleared his throat and took a deep breath, sipping the cheap beer that you now realize convinced him that he was hot shit.

“You’ll have to excuse me, sweetheart. My filter isn’t the best when I’m around pretty girls like you.” He continued his flirtation in what he thought to be a seductive tone, only making you resist the urge to scrunch your face up. It was embarrassing for him, truly. After saying such irritating words, he began to babble on, still leaving no room for you to go to your boyfriend.

Unbeknownst to you, Iceman had his eyes quite menacingly locked on the pair of you. From his angle, your poker face was far too good. He was convinced that you were interested in whatever the man was saying, and like the man he was, he could tell what the other man was thinking.

He felt his blood boil underneath his skin as he clenched his jaw once more. Had his aviators not been hiding his eyes, anyone would have seen just how viciously he was glaring at the man. Whatever the conversation was around him was now irrelevant, his focus solely on the piece of shit speaking to his girlfriend. His left cheek was slightly hollowed from the way his jaw was clenched and the way he had the inside of his cheek between his teeth. His grip on both glasses was beginning to tighten. His eyes were practically shut with how narrowed they were, his entire body tensing as he watched you fake a laugh at one of the man’s jokes. His thoughts and feelings had progressed far beyond his protective nature. This was anger. This was possession.

This was ownership.

Iceman knew that you were your own person and he knew that you were completely capable of handling your own. Had he not been so angry, he probably would have felt a bit guilty for thinking of you as his property. Knowing how you were, though, it would probably just turn you on. The thought of you began to ease his mind slightly, right up until he saw the man briefly grip your shoulder for balance after someone lightly bumped into him.

“All good, Ice?” Slider asked the man out of pure concern, noticing the way Iceman made no attempt to hide the fact that he was staring at you.

Being torn away from his murderous thoughts, Iceman sipped his drink once more and finally ripped his eyes away from the sight, nodding his head. It was only when he saw the man lean more towards you when he laughed that Iceman decided enough was enough.

With a dull glare and a clenched jaw, Iceman found himself gripping both glasses with an intensity that was seconds away from shattering them. Before such a thing could happen, he set them down on the countertop of the bar beside him, taking his aviators off of his face. Pushing them into his deep pocket, he sharply inhaled through his nose and began to saunter over.

To you, the reality of the situation was quite comical. You had no idea that both this man and Iceman thought you were even remotely enjoying the conversation, seeing as the truth was the complete opposite. Every time the man opened his mouth to speak, you heard the sound of television static. You essentially zoned out with your eyes on his face, faking a laugh and a nod whenever you saw fit.

You slightly flinched when you felt a large hand press against the small of your back, immediately zoning back in. Just when you were ready to shove whoever was touching you, your eyes landed on what you knew to be the annoyed face of your boyfriend.

You audibly sighed in relief and had a gentle little grin on your face, relaxing back into his touch. “This is my boyfriend, his name is Tom. Tom, this is—“

“Call me Iceman.” Iceman stated firmly to the man, his tone sending chills down your spine.

Like an idiot, the man laughed out loud and raised his eyebrows at the order. “Iceman?”

Neither you nor Iceman had even a slight grin on your faces. The man cleared his throat and licked his lips, taking another swig from his beer bottle. Once he swallowed, he spoke. “Alrighty, then. My name is—“

“It won’t come up again.” Iceman sharply cut him off, his cold posterior returning in a way that soothed your soul. Your heart was racing and you could feel your cheeks slightly begin to heat up, a tight-lipped grin on your face. Not even giving the man an opportunity to respond, you found yourself leading your painfully infuriated boyfriend to the deserted area in which he stood before. Slider and Maverick had joined the other pilots.

Once you two finally stood alone, he snatched at the opportunity to speak first.

“What was that?” The words fell from his lips in what was almost a whisper, clearly intended for your ears and your ears only. Due to the sound of music playing and chatter around the bar surrounding the pair of you, you were shocked at the fact that you could even hear him.

“What do you mean?” You questioned him with furrowed eyebrows, gazing up into his eyes. Part of you knew what he meant, but the part that answered him was the part that hoped he wasn’t mad at you for it.

For eyes that were such a warm shade of green, Tom Kazansky knew how to make them seem cold.

“Don’t do that.” He warned you lowly, your heart beginning to race at the lightness of his words. You found that the lighter he spoke, the more trouble you were in. “I’m going to ask you again. What was that?”

“How should I know, Tom?” You answered him in a hushed voice, shrugging your shoulders as you broke the intense eye contact. You looked down at your hands almost shyly, your head tilted to the side. “We were just talking.”

The very moment the words fell from your lips, you felt his thumb and index finger gently grip your chin, directing you to look up at him. Once you did so, your eyes found his like a moth to a flame.

“No, you were just talking. He was gawking.” He cooly remarked, noticing the way the corner of your lips twitched.

Immediately, his eyebrows knitted together in confusion. Funny? You found this funny? Out of all of the things he found this situation to be, funny certainly wasn’t one of them. The real reason you were fighting a grin was because you were incredibly excited by the way his hand felt on your skin, but he would never consider that. He thought you were treating the situation as a joke or that he was being punished for not keeping his attention on you. The thought fueled both his anger and his lust, both coming out in the way his grip on your chin tightened and the way his other hand found your waist.

“I tried to go to you, I told him you were waiting.” You softly told your boyfriend, aiding his anger profusely. Your head tilted as you slowly blinked, your smaller hands now on his chest. “I think he’s too drunk to care.”

Noticing the way his jaw was still clenched, you lifted off your hands and ran your fingertips over his cheek, gently caressing his cheekbone for a moment. After doing so, you ran the pad of your ring finger over the left side of his jaw, causing him to relax slightly.

“Are you jealous, Iceman?” You whispered with a pretty little smile, a flicker of hope in your eyes as you did so. The usage of his callsign made him smirk in a way that made your knees weak, his hand now traveling to your bare thigh. You knew wearing a sundress that was tight on the top but flowed at the bottom was an unbelievably spectacular idea.

“What the fuck do you think?” The words fell off of his lips smoothly, causing you to close your parted lips. You could feel his cold fingertips begin to trail up the back of your thigh, slightly lifting the fabric of your dress in the process.

He knew no one could see you, given the fact that he was practically towering over you. Nonetheless, he retracted his hand in the name of being careful in public, earning a small giggle from you. He could see the disappointment in your eyes once his hand left your skin.

“I don’t need to be, though. I know who that pretty little body of yours belongs to.” The man told you in the cockiest tone, your reaction only fueling his ego as a dark blush crept over your cheeks.

“I don’t know who it belongs to.” You softly told him, earning an amused look from him as he raised his eyebrows. The words you spoke right after earned another smirk that sent you in a whirlwind, causing you to practically feel him making up an excuse to leave.

“Why don’t you take me home and show me?”

[bleedingichorhearts]

𝐏𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐎𝐟 𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐝

𝕬𝖚𝖙𝖍𝖔𝖗: Forgive me, I couldn’t get this out of my head, and therefore you shall endure my visions.

𝕿𝖆𝖌𝖌𝖊𝖉: @kit-williams, @egrets-not-regrets, @bispecsual, @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan, @sleepyfan-blog.

𝕾𝖚𝖒𝖒𝖆𝖗𝖞: Captain Xanthos returns from a grueling mission and wants nothing more than to make love to his awaiting little spouse.

TW // Soft SMUT, Belly Bulge, Overstimulation, Biting/Marking, Size Difference, Yandere Themes, Google Translate.

|°ᴛᴀɢ ʟɪꜱᴛ ᴀᴘᴘʟɪᴄᴀᴛɪᴏɴ°| |°ɪᴄʜᴏʀ’ꜱ ᴀᴏ3°| |°𝕄𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕃𝕚𝕤𝕥°|

“What are your plans on getting back to your quarters Captain?” Lieutenant Zephytos asks him, shifting is his armor of bronze that is covered in drying blood. The red optics of their helmet staring right into his own, expecting an answer from him.

“To rest for the next battle to be won.” Xanthos simply responds to him, looking away from the Lieutenant and observing the roughed up scouts being tended to an Apothecary-in-learning. Their form kneeling down to the ground to observe their brethren for any injuries.

Some of the scouts groan out in soreness; rolling their neck and shoulders. While some others whine a little bit, but dared not to complain for it was not in their nature to do so. Their mission admittedly being a bit grueling for them to a standard as the mission was set a level higher than what they would usually handle, pushing their limits, but otherwise they have done greatly in their mission. Not one having an indent in their armor for an Apothecary to chew him out on.

“The scouts tiring you out already Captain?” Zephytos croons, subtlety teasing him with his rank. Obtaining a deadpan stare from underneath Xanthos helmet as he turns his head to look back at his lieutenant who dares to tease him all the damn time about anything he can. “What? Am I wrong? You can’t tell me they have disobeyed orders all day today.”

Xanthos sighs at that. He can’t deny that it was grueling to work with them. They loved to disobey orders for the sake of their mission being completed, but it wasn’t… efficient for them or their groups. They don’t understand just yet on how working together will improve their effectiveness. So most of the captains and the Masters of the Recruits agreed to let them figure it out the hard way. Which also had anyone ranked higher than a scout exhausted by just standing there idly; watching them closely to verbally recorrect their mistakes they may or may not listen to.

“That, they have.” Zanthos responds, turning his head up to the night sky. Taking note this planet had a lot less light pollution, and he could see how brightly the stars shine. How they almost twinkle and move while the planet rotates.

Perhaps, his love would like to observe some with him? To watch the stars once more? To lay in each other’s embrace while she would shiver at a simple breeze, trying to cuddle to him closer for his warmth. Which he’ll be happy to provide such simple request, and lift you up into his arms to protect you from the cold. His fingers lightly tracing your smaller body making you shiver at his attention.

He would tease you then as you were just in the perfect and willing place to for him to caress your body; to curiously dip and press his fingers into the clothed curves of your body. Trying to find out what makes you keen into him more; to make you melt under his attention. Purring at you when he does manage to gently squeeze a gasp out of you, your face hiding in his collarbone all while he would rumble out a laugh. Amused by your tactics to try and hide away in his bulk.

Didn’t you know he could make you look up at him if he pleased? Move and position you as he commands? To absolutely ravage you then and there?

Ah, but he doesn’t want to break the trust he already grown with you. He would not like to chase and find you all over again when you perceived him to be angry: afraid of his wrath and rejection. Yet, he was never was truly angry at you, he was just… brooding one might say. Not that was out of his and his brethren nature either, but you have to get used to their ways of living.

“Thinking of your lover?” Zephytos questions with a baiting tone, looking up at the sky with him. Both of them sitting in an eased silence for a moment. Listening to the creatures that call at night.

“Why must you test me, Zephytos?” He questions his lieutenant with another sigh, looking back down and to his side to face his lieutenant again. Awaiting his answer from him.

“Who am I if I do not?” The lieutenant responds, turning to meet his gaze. A sincere-like tone in his words, telling Xanthos that is his character. One of truth, trust and uncorruption. “Besides, I think your lover is just waiting for you to find them again. They certainly love playing that game with you.”

Xanthos scrunches his nose at that, but doesn’t make a remark on it. Knowing if you are hiding he’ll just find you again, like the many times he has done so before. That, or one of his brothren will find you and put you back in your area as they do not trust nor are persuaded easily. They know who you belong to. They have no problem returning you to him again and again.

“Maybe she finds a certain… enjoyment in it?” Zephytos harasses him more, purring his words out to him all seductively. Trying to effectively bother him some more. “A pleasu—”

The taunting lieutenant doesn’t even have a chance to say anything more when Xanthos slugs him on his pauldrons. A tiny ‘ow’ leaving the lieutenant as he hutches over for the Captain to wrap his arms around his helmet, putting him into a headlock while he growls at him. “You are a teasing bastard, Zephytos.”

Though, Xanthos wouldn’t mind if you would run from him in such a way. It would certainly show your bravery and strength to take him on in such a pleasing way. Not to mention he could watch how you would bounce and bend, and he could show off a little bit; get a rather tasty prize at the end too.

Hmmmmm.

“You’re thinking about it, are you not?” Zephytos pushes his luck while still being stuck in his captains’ arms. His gauntlet resting on the arms of Xanthos as he looks up at him.

“Shut it, lieutenant.” The captain simply huffs, tired of the younger mans shenanigans already. Neither confirming nor denying his words though.

You yawn as you flip a page in your book, completely endorsed in it. Well… as much as you can be without having to reread what you have already gone over. Your eyes heavy in exhaustion of not sleeping when you are supposed to. Which you know the captain won’t be to happy about to hear nor see.

The monstrous man of bronze liked to keep you in a prime state. To always make sure you had the meals and nutrition that you need everyday for you, but this also included many another things a baseline human would need to survive like: sleeping, entertainment, socialization, shelter and even clothing. All was provided, even when he wasn’t there with you.

Though, all needs were limited within… reasons you suppose. You were only allowed to speak to certain people and receive individual things from them, and your only shelter is wherever the captain may have walked and owned. The entertainment was all sort of things that you really didn’t have a limit on, and that also included clothes too. (High-class or even royal-class.) It’s almost as if ‘you wanted something you could get it’ type of life.

Not that you were a person of greed, it was just that was the way on how you were treated under their eyes. You honestly never really wanted much, and sometimes the overbearing mess of it all just frustrates you to no end. You never had asked for this! Why must you have it all? Why can’t they send it to another? Why can’t they just put it to a better use? Use it instead so it would not rot under your unwanting care?

You deeply sigh and close your eyes for just a moment to relax yourself. Only to suddenly jump in your skin when something touches your cheek, knocking you out of your calamity. Your book in your hands falling harshly onto your blanketed lap and sliding off into the ground with a heavy thud as it was a hardcover.

You would have thought you were being assassinated if it weren’t the familiar scent of myrrh to wash over you. A peculiar feeling of safety washing over you while a deep, but quiet laugh comes from behind you as you try and calm your nerves. Your hand over your chest, trying to calm your heart manually.

“Did you not hear my return my love?” The man behind you softly starts to kiss you below your ear. His arms warping around you easily from behind the couch that you sit on, trapping you in his unexpected embrace.

“I did not, my captain.” You respond in a quieter tone, looking in front of you as his scarred arms block your peripheral vision. Your body slowly keening into the back of the couch; more into his emission of warmth.

“You know, you are allowed to say my name little love.” He mutters, giving you trails of kisses up and down your jawline. His arms closing in around you as he awaits for your approval to attack your neck next.

You tiredly hum in return. Opening up your neck to him as your eyes slowly close in on you again the more he repeats his gentle affections. Your hands settling neatly in your lap until the rude man nips at the softness of your flesh, and snatches you up in his arms. Taking you and the blankets somewhere else besides the couch.

“Xanthos…” You whine at the man. Disliking the fact from being moved from your spot of comfort and away from your book that you didn’t even put a bookmark into yet, but you can’t do much about it when he already has you in his firm arms.

“You haven’t been sleeping well.” He states the obvious, but his tone says he’s a little bit disappointed. Not that you were affected by it much. It was common for you to resist your own baseline needs.

“Can’t sleep.” You simply reply, nuzzling into his clothed chest of silk while he walks, inhaling the comfort of his scent. Your fingers lightly tracing the cloth of his muscles. “You were not by my side.”

“Ah, let me fix that my love.” He softly coos into your ear, finally placing you lightly down on a plush surface: a bed you recognize after a sleepy moment as his hands slowly drag from the sides of your waist down to the calf of your legs. His massive form blocking any light from behind him as he looks down at you. His preying, red eyes sending a shiver down your spine. “Let me devour you and reclaim you tonight.”

Oh, the thought of him being between your legs definitely jerks at your sleepy mind a bit. Sending a shot of arousal through you the more you could think of how he would use you as a full course meal. How he could just keep you in place with one hand if he needed to. His strength more being more admirable than what you had thought before.

“I don’t think you are opposing that idea my love.” Xanthos teases with a chuckle. A finger of his hooking around the bottoms of your nightly clothing, eager to just pull it off you without much resistance.

“Σκάσε(Shut up), captain.” You groan, pulling off some little Greek you learned up at the man. Gaining a quick, but gentle leg pull from him. Pulling you down at the edge of the bed; flush against his hips with one of his arms resting above you so he could loom over your body with his warm cock evidently pressing up against you and through both your clothing. Threatening to just fill you up deliciously.

“Perhaps, I shall just reclaim you instead? To fill up your precious flower now?” The man softly growls, his breath ticking your ear while his teeth teases your skin. His hips slowly rocking back and forth, messing up both of your clothes. “A fitting punishment of your own negligence.”

“You wish to exhaust me with pleasure, Xanthos?” You huff, ignoring the growing heat below you. One of your hands trailing up from his stomach and to his collarbone before slipping underneath his cloth to touch his warm, smooth skin.

“That, I do.” He hums, leaning a little more down on top of you to let your hands explore the chest of his body. His lips attacking your neck once more before taking on your own. His tongue lapping at your bottom lip before giving it a little suckle, making it swell with red plumpness.

Tracing your fingers through the juicy curves of his muscles. You squeeze at them when Xanthos lips become suffocating and addicting, but don’t stop your teasing actions on his body. Your fingers still carefully dragging along his skin and rimming his portholes. Sending a shiver down his body that you might have not seen, but you definitely felt it.

“You tease me love.” He pops off your swollen lips, observing your tired, but desiring body. His tongue licking his lips as he savors what you taste like from your own lips before he digs right back in. All the more fervent to leave you breathless and withering before him as his other hand wanders under your shirt, wrapping around your waist and thumbing at your stomach.

“Xanthos.” You manage to gasp out, escaping his barrage of kisses. Your head laying back, leaving your neck open as he takes the chance to suckle there too. His clothed hips still rutting up against your own heat.

Your hands come up to try and grasp up at his shoulder but settle around for his neck instead. The bulk of him being too much for one to have a hold on as you can feel how he drags his hand on your stomach down underneath the waistline of your clothing. Circling his fingers on your skin there for a moment before nips at your neck again, tearing the bottoms of your nightly clothing away from you.

“Xanthos!” You yelp at him by his bite and the loss of your clothes. Disappointed that he would just rip one of your favorite clothings right off of you without a care. You wonder if that’s why he brought you some clothing for you so he can just rip it off of you.

“I will have someone make you some more my love.” He grins into your neck painted with red and purples. His hand that discarded your bottom cloth opening up your legs for him as he presses his proud heat up against you more, very eager to have you on his cock already.

You whine in response. Your legs trying to wrap around his mass unsuccessfully, but he doesn’t let your smallness get in the way of the both of you. In fact, he thrilled by the size difference. He loves to think of all the things he could do to you.

Leaning himself from the bed, he starts to take off his own clothing properly, unlike yours that he will just rip off anytime he feels like it. He’ll need them again when he’ll have to go back out and provide you with a meal and water after he is done with you. He knows how good and well he can and will fuck you.

Placing both of his hands on your thighs. He gently opens them to see you. To see the slick your body produced between your folds when he lathered your neck and lips with his markings. Another grin playing on his face as he settles his hard cock between your folds. His hips slowly rocking and gathering your slick on his cock, teasing you of the inevitable.

“Gah-ha!” You whine, your body tensing up on him as he slowly starts the lead his cock through your folds. A soft squelch sounding here and there the more he pushes himself through. His fingers tracing up and down your legs as he try’s to get you relaxed again.

“Relax my love, relax.” He coos down at you, watching you closely for any sign of pain you might show him. He knows he’s unnaturally big for a human like you and takes his time with you. Immediately pausing when you stopped breathing for a second on him. “Breathe little love, breathe.”

He pushes a bit further when you heed his words. His cock creating a visual outline within your body that he ogles at. One of his hands coming over to brush over the outline on your skin. A pleasured cry escaping your lips when he does, making his dick twitch inside of you at your over sensitivity.

“Y-You’re big.” You manage to breathe out, placing one of your arms over your eyes while you try and concentrate on your breathing and relaxing yourself. His cock feeling like it grows bigger in width and length every time he enters your pulsing core. The heated stretch is painfully delicious and addicting even, like he was the only one that could make you feel this amount of pleasurable girth inside of you, and it would be true too.

“So you praise.” Xanthos purrs, leaning back down to hover over you again. Sneaking one of his hands underneath the top of your nightly clothes, brushing his thumb over a perky breast of yours. His lips attacking your collarbone this time as he awaits for you to get used to him.

“Hhnng, please move.” You softly moan, wiggling your hips to tease the cock that sits inside of you. Earning a pinch to your bud in a little warning before the man above you abide your words. Slowly rolling his hips into you, making you feel a bit more breathless than when his cock entered you.

You immediately whine when he hits a deep spot inside of you at such a slow pace while his hand underneath your clothing plays with your breasts: squeezing them, gently pulling at them and giving both of them equal amount of attention before he ultimately rips off the rest of your clothing as well. Throwing it somewhere in the room while he curves his body in an awkward position to wrap his lips around your breasts.

Your hands find his hair then, threading your fingers through it while you keen into him. Urging him to continue his wicked actions to absolutely feast upon you tonight and even perhaps tomorrow. His tongue flicking against the perk of your breasts as his teeth threaten to bite into the plushness of them.

“Xanthos.” You moan his name, and have no doubt you’ll be calling it all night. Your fingers grasping at his hair, tugging at it as you feel a familiar tightness growing in your core the more he hit all the right spots deep inside of you.

The man trying to milk your breasts lowly growls out in response. Lewdly popping off your breasts while he drags his teeth from your bust back up to your neck before lowering himself on you, nuzzling you under your jaw. His elbows keeping him from squishing you fully as he wraps his entire body around you.

You are stuck underneath him and at his mercy as he increases his speed a little bit to fuck you at an average pace, nothing quick. His hips thrusting into your tight core while he can feel your muscles constrict tighter around his cock with every movement and action he does. His hot breath fanning against your neck while you sing to him with intelligible moans.

Xanthos hisses through his teeth when your core impossibly tightens on him more. His mind going blank for a second as his hips stutter. The feeling of your core milking him for all he is worth making him groan and nuzzle into your skin as he pumps his seed inside of you.

The two of you don’t dare to move from one another. Simply basking in each others’ afterglow with heavy breathes coating both sweaty skins. Your fingers gently twirling little strands of his hair while Xanthos simply lays his head on your shoulder. His hearing picking up the sound of your heart beat slowing to finally sleep underneath him.

[therabbitthatpostthings]

Thinking about…

Giyuu being your upstairs neighbor. He knew of you and your roommate downstairs. He was cautious to not walk so loud (which wasn’t hard, he’s like a ghost). Giyuu didn’t think much about either of you, you kept to your own space and he only saw you sparingly. Makomo would mention you in particular offhandedly when you helped her bring in groceries.

It didn’t matter to him in the end, he wasn’t going to make the effort to go talk to you and he had no reason to. You were his neighbor and that’s all. A good neighbor too. You never complained of noise or made any of your own. The nights were always quiet. On nights like this, Giyuu would often step out on the balcony. No particular reason, it was better than laying in his bed staring at the ceiling fan. Your apartment was a bit away from the busier part of town so light pollution was low, especially during the early hours of morning.

Quietly you stepped outside and onto your balcony, unaware Giyuu is above you. “Yeah, everything is fine.”

You spoke in hushed tones. He could see your phone light illuminating the side of your face. In his half-awake state he could barley make out your words. Your voice thought, your voice was melodic. Like a small lullaby, he pressed his back against the wall and drifted off to sleep.

In the morning he was startled by Sabito leaving for class. His phone slipped out his hand as he jolted forward. He heard a loud yelp and then a groan.

After a few very choice words, Giyuu peaked over the railing to find you looking back at him with a large red mark on your forehead.

Well, now he had to go talk to you.

[dancingdonatello]

Hello i have a very specific request but it will not leave my mind

Reader is just entirely in love with the stars, and this is no secret. Donnie makes a lil projector thing that projects the real positions of the stars at the time, and dramatically shows it to em?? Please... thank you so frickin much

rise donnie x gn reader

How many times have you complained about light pollution? Around 500 times, according to Donnie’s data table.

That was around an average of 3.5 mentions per week. You usually mentioned it when outside, during the dark, or when Donnie dragged you in for a documentary on space.

How many times had you mentioned stars? Too many to count. Donnie gave up on that spreadsheet months ago. Oh, there you went again. His fingers itched with the need to put it into the spreadsheet. Maybe he could make a new one standing from this month and forward.

But along with stars and pollution, you had started talking about Texas and Ohio. How you could see the stars so easily from some National Parks there.

You had talked about wanting to move there when you got a job and money.

Ohio and Texas were not New York. Donnie also was sure that the sewers didn’t continue on forever through the entire country and he wasn’t sure how their tank would get through tolls on the highway.

He had two options to convince you to change your mind.

One: solve pollution.

This one was a little difficult. For one, that meant convincing a bunch of countries to stop doing what they were doing immediately and changing. Also, he was a turtle mutant that would be shot dead if he tried to contact a president or dictator’s personal phone number that he definitely did not have.

But there was also the second option: Make an alternative star system. One that would satisfy you enough to stay.

This didn’t mean just taking glow in the dark stars and sticking them on the ceiling. No. That was too basic.

He’d caught you watching time lapses of night skies before. As the Earth spun, the stars moved.

So, he’d have to make a star projector that moved. Even better, he could make it accurate to New York. This meant watching a lot of videos and somehow timing everything right.

But he was Donatello Hamato. It couldn’t take that long right?

Well.

It did. It took forever. His usual projects lasted at most six months. This took him up to close to a year. So he waited for your anniversary to gift it to you. (Luckily, your complaints on light pollution and instances of randomly staring up at the sky had only increased according to his spreadsheet.)

He already has it set up. All he needs to do is to make sure you don’t go into his room—

“No!” he shouts when he spots you opening his curtain. He runs right at you and apparently terrifies you as you jump out of his way. He trips over a sock and falls on his face, inches away from crushing his gift to you.

“Is that an Xbox?” You pick it up off the floor. “You shouldn’t leave this just lying around.”

“Haha… ha!” He snatches it away from you. “Follow me.”

He leads you all the way back to your own home. You’re obviously confused. He asked you to come to the lair and now he’s just bringing you back to your own house. Honestly, the poor turtle was just too nervous and didn’t think it though.

“Close your eyes…” He said as he placed it on your nightstand in your room.

You sat on your bed, waiting.

“Ahem. Drum roll please.” You blindly reached out for your night stand. Donnie moved the projector out of the way in time before you slammed your hands onto it.

Jeez. This thing was going to be broken before he even showed you what it really did.

“Okay. Open.”

Your eyes opened. You stared at him until he almost nervously pointed up at the ceiling. His nervousness disappeared when you gasped in excitement.

“The stars are proportional to real life, obviously scaled down to fit. They also reflect what the stars would look like over New York right now. So, as the Earth rotates, this should show the new stars that would show.”

Your jaw dropped.

“Also, it can adjust to any room you put it in.” He crossed his arms, almost posing proudly. “Happy anniversary.” He already know what is about to happen by the look in your eyes.

He steadied himself just as you launch yourself into his arms.

[camelotremix]

Camelot Remix 2024 - Week 1

FIC: Standing still; for six months and two weeks for MerlinLikeTheBird (Merlin/Arthur, Gwaine/Percival – Gen – 2605w) Summary: We all know Percy influenced Arthur to finally undertake action with Merlin. But what if he had underlying motives? And what if Gwaine has something to do with it too? Eventually all knights get involved. FIC: This Song and Dance (The 'Balancing Act' Remix) for polomonkey (Merlin/Arthur – Teen and Up – 1200w) Summary: The thing is, Merlin has been thinking about it. About Arthur and the grief that he wears like penance, how he fits so easily into the spot beside Merlin. How he always has, and how, for all his talk about leaving, he does not seem to be in a hurry. --- Between circus shows and late nights, Merlin and Arthur figure themselves out, one step at a time. FIC: wandered out in the world for years (the king and the knight remix) for HadrianPeverellBlack (Gwaine/Merlin – Gen – 800w) Summary: Gwaine doesn't like Arthur. Respects him, sure. Admires his fighting prowess, yeah. Envies his freedom and pities his lack of it in equal parts. He'll follow him into battle and mostly follow orders as he does so, because chances are Arthur’s on the right side of a fight, and even if he isn't he's got Merlin to push him until he is. But he's more than capable of all that without actually liking the man. Or: Arthur and Gwaine search for Merlin during the deleted scene from A Servant of Two Masters. FIC: A Time to Mourn, and a Time to Dance [Remix] for scotscookie (Merlin/Arthur – Explicit – 1478w) Summary: After a night of drinking with Morgana, Arthur goes home to wind down. FIC: The Best and Terrible (An Extended Remix) for linorien (Gen – Teen and Up – 30,691w) Summary: After meeting the Druids, Morgana cannot sit idly by while Uther’s tyranny against magic continues; but, taking action may put her in more danger than she can get out of alone. Meanwhile, Merlin struggles under the loneliness of his secret, and wonders who he’s destined to be. A story about working together, magic reveals going better than expected, and Uther Pendragon being the worst man ever. FIC: Where We Find Our Peace for queerofthedagger (Merlin/Arthur – Gen – 2687w) Summary: Arthur looked the most relaxed Merlin had ever seen him; his hair was a golden mop, glistening droplets of water traveling down the planes and angles of his face. Merlin’s eyes followed one, down the side of Arthur’s sculpted nose, reaching his plump lips where Arthur’s tongue darted out to catch it. Merlin tore his eyes away and let his face break out into a bright grin as he looked into Arthur’s eyes. “You could’ve told me that we were going for a swim; I would’ve complained far less.” Arthur rolled his eyes slightly. “I was going for a swim,” he replied, “you simply decided to follow me.” A remix of Bad Choice of Words in My Alibi by queerofthedagger ART: Reluctantly in Love for chaosgenes (Merlin/Arthur – Gen – Digital Art & 127w) Summary: Arthur has waited for Naming Day all his life, but could not be more disappointed when he finds out who the Soul Stone names for him. It isn’t the prisoner he meets in the dungeons, but his heart aches for him anyway. Merlin has never thought about soulmates until they come knocking at his door in Ealdor. Convinced that there’s something wrong with the Soul Stone, he travels to magic-banned Camelot to end its influence. He never thought that he would be enraptured by the crown prince who comes to interrogate him. FIC: Disillusion (a remix of Light Pollution) for Ynnealay (Gen – Gen – 1041w) Summary: Some of Merlin's letters to Arthur over the years.

[gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan]

Death? Not Today F*ck You!

Next

Author's Note: Karlsor's debut in Mermay and Poor Unfortante souls.

Warnings: Karlsor swears a lot, some hints of violence. Also NIGHT LORD. Let me know if I need to add more

Summary: Karlsor lands on Terra and finds a Budding Blight Garden, not that he knows what that is. And makes the decision to not go near it.

Tagged: @barn-anon, @bleedingichorhearts, @c-u-c-koo-4-40k, @kit-williams, @sleepyfan-blog, @whorety-k

Tagged Again: @sleepyfan-blog and @whorety-k

Karlsor is a Proud Night Lord, and one of the lucky, or unlucky bastards with enough Psyker abilities that were noticed early enough that he was dragged into training by the Libarius before the Heresy. He'd barely finished his training as a Librarian, their training exacting, harsh, demanded and with each step forward, sacrifice of blood, pain, sweat, tears, and mental health (whatever the fuck that is) was demanded of him. He's no coward, never has been, to have survived the Hell that is Nostramo, and to have been...

Either Lucky or Unlucky enough to have been grabbed by the Night Lords to be flung into a cage with a bunch of other boys around his age, some older, some younger, and then dragged into the Hell that was being an Aspirant of the Night Lords. He had never been the kindest of souls, being born and growing, surviving the fucked up hell that is Nostramo killed the weak, and beat the kindness and every good thing out of a person, until just the pure, raw, naked desire and need for Survival was all that was thought of.

Even when Lord of the Eigth Legion and the Imperium had fully taken over Nostramo, things have still been shit. There was just more technology and shit for the people to fight over. At least that's what he'd heard from the old folks who's complain and hiss about things. Fighting against the uppity Ultramarines as Father had decided to attack the holier-than-thou Primarch of the 13th legion had been a lot of fun, waking up after what had felt like had been a killing blow had been both pleasantly and unpleasantly surprise.

Pleasant, because he still is alive, unpleasant because his ribs really fucking hurt and he's in agony and likely in a cell with uppity Ultramarines ready with snide words and smug bastard-y words to lord over his failure. His tail lashes out in rage as he looks around frowning. Where the fuck his he? He's not on McCragge. Oh fuck shit. As he's dying he's getting a vision. Or something. Goody. Or he's hallucinating a Nicer Thing as he dies? What the fuck is this shit. He slowly starts moving, activating his ability to swim through the air, which is infinitely safer than trying to crawl back to the waters. Seriously.

Which fucking planet is he on? This is planet has pollution, he can smell it, but it's not the worst planet he's been on. It's almost pretty, but pretty things often hide something worse underneath. Finding the ocean took several hours of swimming through the air. At least there's only one sun in the sky, even if the sunlight is way to fucking bright in his opinion. He prefers the darkness and shadows, where the light doesn't burn his skin and eyes. Even with being an Astartes with a tougher body, he burns like a whore in church after a few minutes in the sun.

Which is going to be so delightful to feel once he's back in the water. At least he's alive to recover from his injuries and the sun trying to fuck him over more. He is really glad to get into the ocean waters, which is salinized and he almost bites through his tongue trying not to scream as his skin protests being in the ocean while being sunburnt enough that his regenerative abilities has yet to heal it and he's entirely red from where his armor doesn't protect his scales.

He swims in the ocean, healing and trying to hunt for something to eat, easily hunting a school of fish and eating the wriggling creatures whole. He has some nutri-paste but he needs to supplement it with organic matter, which is a damned pain. He also needs to figure out where the fuck he is and where some of his brothers are, as much as they are a pain in his ass and are more than half likely to try to murder him, either through straight up stabbing him or being more circumspect about it.

Psykers are viewed as being super unstable and mistrusted in the legion. Honestly, he'd commented before that it's like calling water wet, they are all unstable, lunatic murderers. The younger members of his legion are... not kinder, no one is ever really kind in the Eighth legion, but are more stupid, and ignorant, since they are younger and haven't been through as much fucked up shit as the older ones have. Getting older can be hard, especially with how much fighting they do, against the enemies of the Emperium, and at times, each other.

Still, he's glad that he's alive, in general, and its better than not being alive. That damned Ultramarine only nearly killed him. Which reminds him, he's going to find that Ultramarine and make him suffer for his failure. He hears something and slowly starts swim-stalking and he carefully stalks whatever is making noise and tilts his head from one side to another. That is the ugliest and weirdest looking reef system that Karlsor has ever seen in his life. It looks really sick and fucked up.

And there is something about it that screams WRONG at his Psyker senses. He hears demented echoing giggling. Which is. Fucking Fantastic. He's not going anywhere near the fucked up reef system, it looks cursed as fuck. While he's got an Astartes Immune system, he's not going to tempt whatever the fuck is going on with that to go after him. He's no Apothecary or specialist in Environments, but he knows that is Super Fucked and Warp-craft went into fucking it up and continuing to fuck it up. So yeah, as a trained Psyker and since no one has asked for his help, either way, and he doesn't want to go near it any way, he's going avoid that creepy ass dying reef and go somewhere hopefully a lot healthier. It's a shame, the biodiversity of the oceans of this primitive planet are almost beautiful and he's totally not stared at the plethora of vibrant colored fish swim past him in schools of hundreds.

[mytheoristavenue]

Day 9-

OP Roronoa Zoro x Reader - Holiday Lightshow

Summary: You drag Zoro out to a lightshow.

Warnings: Pure fluff, Zoro being an ass, short/rushed

"This is so stupid," Zoro complained, trudging along in the snow as you both made your way into the village you were docked by.

"Oh, hush, Zoro," you rolled your eyes, pulling him along. "It won't be that bad."

"Easy for you to say..." he grumbled, submitting to being forced into going the the small festival.

-----

After a short walk, you could see the way the neon lights polluted the air and danced on the piles of snow laid on the ground. This sparked your excitement and kickstarted your will to go as you jumped up and began dashing towards the town square.

"Hey, slow down!" your companion called after you. "C'mon you're gonna trip!" Suddenly, you halted, turned back to him and beamed.

"Sorry," you giggled sheepishly. "I couldn't help myself, I'm just so excited to see the lights!"

Something about the way your eyes sparkled with enthusiasm, your blushed cheeks and nose, and your sweet smile made Zoro's heart skip a beat as he froze, flustered before shaking the feeling off. "W-Whatever..." he muttered, glancing away from you. "Just don't run, I don't wanna have to come find you if you get lost."

"I could say the same to you," you laughed, letting your hand move down from his wrist to his palm and lacing your fingers between his. "Maybe we should hold hands so neither of us get lost."

"S-Shut up!"

-----

Walking into the gates of the festival, you were wonderstuck by all the lights, some twinkling, some flashing, and some still. All were beautiful. Unknowingly, you spun on your heel, entranced by the breathtaking attractions. There were topiaries of holiday figures, wrapped into colored lights to dress them, fiberglass statues that danced on tracks, and photo opportunities around every corner.

"Isn't it all so pretty?" You gasped, overwhelmed by the thought of what to look at first. Zoro didn't answer your question, however. His eyes we glued to you and the way the colors bounced off your hair and skin. It was like you were taken straight from one of those corny Hallmark movies.

"Yeah, you are..." he whispered under his breath.

"What was that?" You asked, genuinely nor hearing him.

"N-nothing!"

[priestessame]

Sumeru Men during Ganesh Chaturthi.

♥♥♥Okayy this might be a little too niche but for that 1% desi genshin fans pspsppspspps. ♥♥♥

A/N: Ganesh Chaturthi is a festival we celebrate in india, where we bring an idol of the popular hindu deity Ganesh home.

﹆ꕤ⊹Desi Sumeru Head cannons: Ganesh Chaturthi special.﹆ꕤ⊹

.. ♥Kaveh, Al Haitham, Cyno, Wanderer, Tighnari ft. Kaeya ♥ ..

Kaveh Head of decorations. Art child of the house forced into becoming the head designer for the festival. The entire responsibility of the decoration is pushed onto him, whether he's okay with it or not. By the end of it he'll be sitting on the ground with flower garlands and fairy lights around his neck. STRESSEDDD, he has to get the space ready before they actually bring the Ganpati idol home and right now nothing is sticking to the wall, the lights look ugly and Al Haitham is getting on his last nerve. 

Cyno SELLOTAPE MAN, bro cannot be trusted with anything other than cutting small pieces of sticky tape and holding them ready for kaveh. He might even start sticking them on Scara's hat so that they're easier to peel.  He has a little shop of every type of sticky tape available- the double sided one, masking tape, the yellow coloured one for the light arrangements and the clear see-through ones, whatever you want. Will offer bad jokes with every piece. Also primarily here for the spiced milk.  

Tighnari The environmentalist that goes on about how they should use eco- friendly decorations and ban polystyrene but does nothing to actually help. Will bring all the raw material for the flower and fruit arrangement and that's his only contribution. The rest of the time he'll play music and and give Kaveh bad advice. Also the kind to get modak edibles for the gang so they're all high as hell during the ceremony. The kind of soft launch his s/o to his fam by inviting them to the festival. 

Wanderer The non-native that's experiencing it for the first time. Let's be honest, his mom forced him to be here. He could not give a flying fuck about what the festival is and why its celebrated. But apparently its important to socialize, so fine he'll show up. He's given the huge bundle of fairy lights, pulled straight out of the attic so he can sit in a corner untangling them while the others conceptualise the decorations. Eventually has to work with the sellotape man. His hands hurt from holding the lights up because kaveh can't make up his mind on where they look good. The wires are old so might get electrocuted accidently. Also complains about the noise pollution outside, then dances his ass off during Visarjan, after eating Tighnari's edible. Al Haitham The critic. Exists solely to shit on all of Kaveh's ideas. He'll lounge around the room, not involving himself in anything, but the moment Kaveh assembling things he'll point out everything he's doing wrong. Will give random pointers until Kaveh rips his hair out. 100% will start fighting. "WHY ARE YOU HERE THEN? JUST WHY ARE YOU HERE? GO HOME" "I'm here because you're incompetent." ♥ "Yeah, that is not going to hold."  "Stfu Al Haitham, I'm the architect here, you think i don't know how these things work? I know what materials work with what kind-  The entire decoration crashes down on him the moment he says this, its 3am in the morning and kaveh is on the verge of tears.  "Told you so."  ♥ Kaeya The one NRI cousin that lives abroad and cries on Instagram over how much they miss the festival. Will dress up regardless to take pictures, attempt to make the sweets on their own and video call their fam all the time. Somehow finds an university club, or local desi community that celebrates the festival in that country and spams on socials.

bwhahahaah this was so much fun to write, i was actually imagining them as me and my cousins.