#i need to write this up into a proper fic

[dilf-luvr-4evr]

Counting Down the Days to Being Yours 🕊️💍

for dearest @emerald-ranch <3 I sincerely hope this is according to what you imagined!! 👉🏼👈🏼 I’m sorry it took long! I wanted it to be perfect :( thank you for trusting me with your wonderful idea 🫶🏼🥺 this playlist was in heavy rotation during the writing process!! happy belated valentine’s 🥰

my first proper Arthur fic! (f!Reader, BIG FLUFF where everyone is alive 🤩🙏, possible inaccurate wedding rituals in 1899, church photo just for aesthetic, you can marry wherever you please :) (arthur photo by sealevils on pinterest!)

Arthur had not returned to camp for almost two weeks. It wasn’t anything new to you but usually, he’d at least let you know. Try as you might to shrug it off but you get plagued by the ugliest thoughts. God forbid! You always yelled out-loud before your imagination gets the chance to be spoken into existence.

The days had dragged on for so long that it made you self introspect. You didn’t really know why you should when he left you on very good terms. Very good terms.

Both of you made passionate, burning love the night before he left. And a little bit more upon waking up. You let him sleep in again as you attended to Miss Grimshaw, getting him a plate of stew on your way back. While waiting for him to wake, you even cleaned his guns. He said he loved you multiple times — a kiss accompanying every declaration — before getting on his horse. That is, after Miss Grimshaw had to separate y’all herself.

Impeccable timing and divine intervention; as if he knew you’d fetch him yourself if you had to wait any longer, Arthur finally came back home to you. A far cry from the last you saw him. But again, nothing new. You were just extremely relieved.

Frankly, he looked like shit. Handsome, still. But very dirty. Speckles of mud were all over his face but far more concerning, he was drenched in blood.

Adding to the list of questions you were about to ask, what you saw him untie from his Hungarian half-bred was a giant bison that’s been chopped up. Some of the people in camp that crowded around him cheered, knowing they’ll be fed good tonight.

Still, it was all so odd to you. There was no way it’d take him two weeks just to take down a bison. It would need much more than this bribing to stop you from questioning him as much as you’re glad he’s home.

Even stranger, Arthur was awfully quiet the whole time you helped him bathe by the lake. Not a single I miss you. Didn’t let you touch his grimy clothes though that’s never been a problem before.

“Arthur, are you sure you’re okay?” You asked for the thousandth time.

“I’m just fine darlin’, I promise,” he tightly smiled, still avoiding your eyes. Though this pained and scared you, you’d wait until he’s ready to open up.

He changed again when you shaved him and cut his hair; just as quiet but his eyes never wavered from your focused expression. Like he can’t believe he’s reunited with you, only looking away when you talked to him.

“Darlin’?” He’d ask.

“Yes?”

“N-nothin’,” he mumbled. This went on over and over in the silence of his tent, a contrast to the singing and eating outside. He refused to join them either despite being the star of the show.

After you were finished with cleaning him up, he held on to your hand and made you sit in front of him without a word. You blinked a couple of times yet remained seated on his cot.

“Arthur-”

“Darlin’,” he started again, clammy hands tightening their grip on yours.

“Yes?” You’d say again and again if he asked you to.

“I’m sorry. For scarin’ ya.” And he was instantly forgiven. Not that you could stay mad at him for long. You weren’t even sure you were mad at him in the first place.

“S’okay,” you smiled, your thumb brushing his hand. He smiled with you though it didn’t last very long.

“The bison’s a gift.”

“A gift? From who?”

“That ain’t what I meant,” he huffed. “I meant-” he shifted uncomfortably on the cot. “I meant.. my gift. To you.”

A snort left you before you could control it. “To me?” And why you would ask for a bison or when is beyond you.

“Just hear me out will ya?” He huffed again, cheeks all red. You just nodded, trying your best not to laugh.

With a deep breath, he continued.

“I love you,” he said softly before looking at your hands. He didn’t even let you say it back, just kept talking. “And I’ve been thinkin’.. When I was away..”

“I know I ain’t much of a hunter. And I’m even less of a man. Hell, I’m even worse with words,” he chuckled. “But darlin’..”

He exhaled loudly and you knew. It all made sense now. He’s about to propose to you.

Arthur’s eyes widened and his heart raced at the sight of you gasping and tearing up. He kept holding your hand, strangely finding comfort in what’s currently scaring him. And maybe that’s exactly why he wanted to marry you.

“If you’ll let me.. I’ll try. I- I’ll always keep you fed. And I’ll take us away from here. Far away, I swear. I’ll take you anywhere you wanna go. No more runnin’.”

You cried like you never cried before. The way his eyes twinkled when he said it even though you knew how much it scared him. The way he’s willing to chase down a dream to make you smile.

He was looking at you like a puppy, waiting for you to say something before, “shit-” he realized he forgot to pull out the ring.

Like a man possessed, he dropped to the ground, searching for the ring from his blood-stained clothes. Watching him clean it with his shirt made you laugh, pouring more tears out of your eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he grinned all flustered, turning back to you.

There he was, already on one knee, a plain gold ring — a symbol of his hard labor you’ve witnessed all too well — humbly offered between his fingers.

Sure you’ve imagined it a couple of times before. How it would happen, if it ever would. You loved him too much to ask him to leave the gang; his family.

But unbeknownst to you, he hears your silent pleas. Sees how you stood by him.

He loved you too much to make you stay.

“Marry me darlin’. Let me give you a proper life. What do you say?”

In a swift breath, you answered, “yes.”

And you’d say it again and again if he asked you to.

“You quittin’ yet?”

You didn’t have to look to know who it was, the voice as familiar as the back of your hand.

You could also tell who it was from that damn joke he’s been telling over and over from the second you said yes.

You sure? Ain’t thinkin’ of backin’ out? Y’know you still got time.

Be it a jest or a genuine query, you know deep in your heart that you’ve never been more sure of anything else in your life.

A scoff left your lips, followed by a roll of your eyes. Yet you smiled.

“You think I should?” you feigned curiosity. Silence. You turned your head to find Arthur leaning on the clothesline post, a contemplating look on his face. Among the fingers that grabbed his belt, the shiny golden ring gleamed in the daylight. “Well?”

A second passes and then, “Nah.. I ain’t lettin’ ya.” Said with that crooked smile of his.

“Then I’m beggin’ you to stop askin’ me!” you laughed, dropping the clothes you were washing in the bucket. Oh how he loved your laugh. He’ll keep asking the dumbest questions known to man if it meant hearing you laugh.

“Arthur, leave the poor girl alone, will ya?” Hosea called out by the horses.

“Just gimme a minute!” Arthur replied before returning his gaze to you. He noticed how Tilly, Mary-Beth, and Karen paid attention to his little interaction with you and that made him a little sheepish. Back to being a teenage boy whenever he’s around you.

“Where you headed?”

“I asked you a question first,” he crossed his arms. The stupid smirk won’t leave his face and neither won’t the glint of mischief in his eyes. “Ain’t goin’ nowhere ‘til you answer me.”

“What question?”

“Are you quittin’?”

“Well do you still wanna marry me or not?” You raised your brow. Blush creeped on his cheeks, making the girls giggle.

“More than anythin’ in the world, ma’am,” he said shyly, his hat now covering his face. You pushed down the twitching on your lips. God, the way he makes you feel.

“Then I ain’t quittin’ the wedding.”

“Good.” He’s lucky he’s got a handsome smile, the bastard. And that he’s got the most patient lady.

“Now where you headed?”

“Just.. Takin’ care of wedding stuff with Hosea,” he was rather mumbling at this point, shying away from the audience.

“‘Kay, be careful,” you chuckled, turning to your laundry again.

There was shuffling and before you know it, he was crouched down next to you.

“Not gonna give your husband a kiss goodbye?” He whispered as if the girls wouldn’t still try to pry. Well. Nine days until your husband. That made you smile a little too wide for your liking. And then kissed him anyway. Silly, stupid man.

Your silly, stupid man.

“Come back to me,” you softened, patting his cheek. His baby blues shone under the shade of his hat. But then again, they always do when they’re looking at you.

“Yes, ma’am,” he murmured as he stood up, smiling so wide, he was almost chuckling from how smitten he was.

Now with the golden band snug on the end of your palm, you could say that you quite literally have him wrapped around your finger.

He tipped his hat, bid the other ladies farewell, and went on his way. He had very important matters to attend to.

There are many things Arthur is capable of. Wedding organizing is apparently not one of them.

Yes, he’s used to thinking on his feet. Despite the most complex situations, there’s always an answer to him.

Even if it means occasionally punching his way out.

But he can’t really punch the wedding caterer can he? Or the man who tailored his suit. Or anyone else in the wedding business for that matter.

Good news is he’s finally done. Got himself a priest to officiate the wedding and paid off the new house; a quaint little thing he figured you’d like. He hoped you’d like.

Dutch made him look for a place to wed to which Arthur obliged. Wouldn’t want to expose the current home and put the gang in danger.

So Heartland Overflow it is.

He remembered taking you there, wanting to show you this silver dapple pinto. You ended up falling asleep in the meadow as he scouted for it. He decided to sleep next to you till noon. One of his favorite days. The perfect balance between wind and warmth and you.

The place gave him another idea that went according to plan like dominoes lining up to his luck. He invited Albert Mason who he happened to meet during one of his wedding ventures. Almost got bitten by an alligator in the process but he’ll be damned if he won’t get to capture your smile on the big day.

This wedding ain’t half bad considering. Perfect in fact. More than he could ever expect and the entire time, he kept imagining your reaction to seeing it all unfold. Maybe he was good at wedding organizing after all.

Still. He felt like he’s made more decisions in the past few days than he’s ever made in his entire life.

Being the impatient man that he is, he rode back to camp with a scowl as opposed to Hosea who looked like he enjoyed himself too much. A view you have come to enjoy as of late.

“Someone’s happy,” you teased while you made your way to him. He got off his horse with a scoff, hand immediately snaking around your waist as both of you walked to your shared tent. You didn’t forget to smirk back at Hosea, a silent agreement to share whatever happened to Arthur today. For later.

“Don’t even start,” he grumbled, only stopping to kiss your temple. “Won’t bother if it ain’t for you.”

The statement made you smile. A mental note was made to treat him good tonight. “At least that’s the last of it. Ain’t it?”

“Yep,” the word stretched out mid sigh, a popping-like sound at the end of it. His hold on you tightened, emphasizing his relief as well as excitement to show you everything he’s schemed. The action automatically pulled you closer and you giggled, a melody that never failed to warm his heart. You could convince him that this was all worth it by that single sound alone.

“Found a dress yet?” He asked, mingled with a grunt as he sat on his cot. You leaned on his shoulder, staring into the distance whilst he took off his boots. The sun had just settled below the horizon, coloring the sky purple.

“No,” you exhaled. “I don’t know..”

“Hate to sound like Strauss but you only got three days darlin’.” That elicited a chuckle out of you. And though you’ve kept count, the fact that you’re actually marrying him still made you giddy.

“Startin’ to think you’re gettin’ cold feet.”

“I’m not,” you clicked your tongue, slapping his back and earning a laugh from him. It boggles you how much this running joke entertained him.

“Well for what it’s worth, I’d marry you in anythin’,” he smiled, kissing the top of your head. His arm had returned to rest by your waist. “In rags,” followed by a nuzzle of his nose against your chin. “Darlin, I’d marry you in nothin’.”

“Mister Morgan!” You blushed at the way he whispered it, slapping him again. He was cackling like a damn crow.

“Yes, Mrs. Morgan?” He carried on, making you roll your eyes even when the giggle that left your lips betrayed you. Damn him.

“I’m serious Arthur! I can’t decide on what to wear,” you pouted.

“Alright, alright,” he nodded, chuckling the last of his amusement out as he wrapped both of his arms around you, chin perched cozily on your shoulder. “We can getcha a new dress if you’d like?”

“You know that’s out of the question. We can’t spend more than we already have.”

Arthur heaved a sigh, having to think again.

“Well-” He thought for a moment. “Wear the one I like.”

Your eyebrows furrowed in thought. “Which one’s the one you like?”

“You know,” he said in this very obvious tone, looking up at you in disbelief. It was obvious from your lack of answer that you didn’t catch on.

Suddenly, he was picturing you in the dress in order to describe it to you. Oh how that white dress made you shine. How it hugged you in all the right places, showed him just enough of what he wanted to see..

It never ends well with you in that dress.

He scoffed, hiding how hot he was for you. His poor bride is fussing and here he was, constantly trying to jump your bones. It was funny because you could always tell from the way he rubbed the back of his neck.

“You know the damn dress, I ain’t gotta tell ya,” he reasoned, getting up from his cot to leave and ignoring your giggly complaints. “I got things to attend to.” Meaning adjusting his pants.

He’s had enough wedding related thinking anyway. Plus, how could you not know?

He sat in front of the mirror. The face he’s bored with looked a little different today, polished.

Just him all alone inside his tent possibly for the last time.

He’s getting married. How strange.

Sure he knows it, took two weeks to contemplate it. Maybe more. But it seems like everyday it keeps dawning on him.

He’s getting married.

The gang left him some time to himself for once, waiting outside with the faint buzzing of gnats and the swishing of Flat Iron Lake.

It’s been a while since he had to properly get ready for something. Used to be a habit of his when he realized he liked you. Until you took over for him. Not that you minded how he looked at all. Felt unreal for him to look back on those days.

There wasn’t a single benefit he got from cleaning up. He doesn’t see himself differently. But he took note of what you loved about him, made sure he looked good enough for you to like. His fingers adjusted the forget-me-nots in his jacket pocket that he picked this morning.

Oh, look at how they bring out the blue in your eyes! You had said when he gave you the same flowers some time ago. Something that stuck with him ever since.

He looked around his cleaned ‘home’. Though he’s never really stayed in the same place for very long, the walls of his tent along with his wagon had been constant. It never actually occurred to him that one day he won’t sleep here again.

Suppose when you first fell asleep in this very cot with him, he sort of knew. He just didn’t think he’d actually get it; a new life with you.

A smile tugged on his lips. Who knew a no-good outlaw like him could be this lucky? How far he’s come. That after everything, he’s actually getting something good.

He tried to not get all soft, turning to the mirror again. But upon seeing his face, he laughed.

“Lucky bastard, ain’t ya?”

And how right he was.

He didn’t realize how much of an understatement that was until the ceremony started and he finally saw you.

You didn’t end up wearing a new dress by any means. Just the one he requested which you decided to alter a bit. At least that’s what you think he requested. But goddamn.

It was like the second time he first saw you.

He was starting to regret his decision to not smoke at all this morning. It ain’t like you never kissed his cigarette-reeked mouth, right? His heart was beating so loud, he barely noticed how you were already stood in front of him. In that dress no less, the sun above you just right. Your eyes looked at no one but him, that very smile to accompany the rest of his days.

The girl of his dreams.

The girl of his dreams who’s suddenly whisper-shouting “Arthur!”

“-can you repeat these vows?” The priest said. Which Arthur realized he had been tuning out.

“Y-yes,” he answered with a clear of his throat, trying not to get distracted by another one of your smiles.

It went smoothly. You actually said I do and kissed him and didn’t run away. Albert took the pictures and everyone liked the food and especially the drinks and Arthur made it till the end without a single cigarette after all. Although he did indulge in some drinking.

Javier was strumming a slow song. The day came and almost went with some still dancing alongside you and your husband.

He had one hand holding your own whilst the other one held on to the small of your back. You laid your head near his heart, partly from exhaustion, mostly from content. The two of you swayed with the gentle breeze that grew with time.

“You regret marryin’ me don’t you? That why you were cryin’?” He joked yet again, recalling to how you cried during your vows.

“I am regretting it now,” you shot him a glare before leaning on him again. You can feel the warm rumbling of his laugh from his chest and it made you smile.

“Did you like the kiss?”

“Of course,” you nodded against him. “I like this too,” with a touch to the flowers in his pocket. “And oh this place.. It’s perfect, Arthur.” And it really was. A wedding straight out of a book and it was yours.

Now he doesn’t think he’d be able to stop smiling. He breathed a sigh of relief so big, it almost lifted your head off his chest. There was no telling who squeezed whose hand first.

“Felt a little.. different though.”

Panic striked through him. So sudden, that he had to pause dancing. “Meanin’?”

“The kiss. You didn’t taste like cigarettes. Not that I mind,” you looked up at him, this lovesick gaze in your eyes. Despite how soft it all was, it was like a slap to his face. This perfect woman is his wife.

“Darlin’..”

“Hm?”

He didn’t even know what he was going to say. He kept looking at you as if checking if this was all real. Being a little drunk did not help. Neither did your distracting lips.

“Do you still like the kiss?” Was what he managed to say.

You laughed and pulled your husband into the millionth kiss that night.

Your husband who now smelled like alcohol instead. Who’s been asking you the same question all night since he drank.

If only you could convince him just how perfect this wedding was. Though not more than he is <3

my masterlist

thank you for reading!! 🫶🏼

[beloveds-embrace]

Just wanna preface this by saying this isnt a request, just some brain worms i wanted to share 💚

So i've been reading your designationless!reader au and it got me thinking about A/B/O aus as a whole and specifically about pack dynamics so enjoy!!

John's the alpha of the 141 pack - no doubt about that in my mind. He's strong and sturdy, able to handle everyone's needs and his own. But he does often get lost in his head at night, relying on the pack to keep him grounded. When they're all together, he doesn't need to be the rock 24/7, he's allowed to have his weakened moments as well. And that's just as a person - as an alpha he takes care of his pack. Always getting their food, regularly scenting them, the whole shebang. He courts them all proper and even when they accept, he continues with it as a show that he can provide. That he's a worthy alpha. (Price 100% grew up in a toxic pack and is determined to be better than that)

Ghost is the other alpha - Price's second in command. He's softer with his words but far more purposeful with his actions. After Roba he couldn't trust his words, he saw how easily they could be manipulated. The pack gets morning and night scentings from him, heavily. He needs his pack to smell like him, to remind him that he belongs. He's also touch-starved so the scenting helps soothe that ache, but do expect him to need everyone in his arms nightly. No exceptions. He'll typically help solve smaller problems in the pack to help keep some of the heat off of Price's back. He's the mediator, because there is no beta.

Which leads me to Kyle - an enigma! He's a mix between an omega and an alpha, something both lighter and heavier. He's had to fight hard to get where he is, as enigmas are so rare that they get negatively stigmatized against. His pack was supportive growing up, but a lot of people rolled over and showed their belly as soon as he started barking. It irritates him so he does need regular sparring to help safely regulate it. As a pack member, he's the vocalizer. He says what everyone needs, it helps Price immensely. If they can't, or won't, say what they need, he will. He likes being scented more than he likes scenting others, his scent was told to be too much so he does prefer to cover it up. Price and Soap break that habit after a long night of thorough scenting and reducing poor Gaz to his basest instincts. Ghost reaps the rewards because Gaz becames 10x more open to sudden scentings throughout the day.

Soap, lovely Johnny, the omega. He's not as hot-headed off of missions as people tend to think. He's very down to Earth, very quiet. He makes his explosions so loud so that he can be quiet. Growing up, he was forced into an alpha leaning role and had to take care of his too many siblings (said by someone with 10 siblings), so all he wants is to be taken care of at times. To indulge in the needier instincts he couldn't express growing up. He also loves being scented and gives it right back, and he properly courts the others like John did. Ghost and Gaz were just roped in - seeing as they didn't know much about courting behavior from less-than favorable childhoods. He thrives on attention. Soap also nests very heavily wherever he's most comfortable, giant nests with stolen items from everyone in the pack. He refuses to let dirty items in though and will personally shower with everyone to make sure they're clean (and totally not to enjoy the 1-on-1 time it provides, something he never got growing up, totally not!)

*And then there's you, the designationless one. Your family shut you out when you were younged, your lack of self was off-putting to them. You wanted to belong and the 141 one pack was more than happy to pull you into their fray. They were unafraid to shower you in everything you missed.)

Just some thoughtz :)

👽

This is you rn 👽 anon:

Like thank you god and 👽 anon for blessing my inbox like this omfg how much do i need to pay to get you to write a fic 😩😩

[weskie]

Imperfectly Perfect (Albert Wesker x gn!Reader) - Lover, Leader, Liar

700 words, non-chronological/plotless one shot, s.t.a.r.s. wesker, wesker yearning, mentions of corporal punishment, flashbacks (kid wesker), may count as some degree of angst, part of the lover leader liar series | Fic Directory

To ache for the idea of it...

He's breaking the rules. 

The heat of the flashlight prickles his skin, but he must continue on. The blanket conceals precious little of his infraction, though he'll only be caught if one of the wards enters the dorm. 

Or if one of the other boys rats him out in the morning. 

The skritch of his pencil is the only audible sound save for a gentle snore here or there. His eyes ache. 

But he must fix his error. 

Penmanship was no laughing matter. How could he ever hope to be taken seriously one day if he failed to carve eloquent lines, perfect in their mimicry of the template, onto paper? Of all things, this is where he suddenly falters. He'd already broken the need to rest writing utensils between his pointer and middle fingers, having been reprimanded over and over by the teacher until he, like the others, utilized the space between his thumb and forefinger. 

The right way.

He chews his tongue as he traces the intricate curvature of a cursive A, looping slowly into an L until, suddenly, his first name stares back at him. 

Albert. 

To be etched upon document after document, form after form, contracts upon contracts… 

“Captain,” you greet him, awkwardly entering his office as you always do. Afraid to disturb him, you've said – consideration even if you were there on his orders, even if to surprise him with your kindness. You've grown accustomed to his subtleties, picking up organically on the nearly nonexistent nod he gives to enter. 

It is strange to feel known. 

Paperwork, he assumes before you've even reached his desk. You no longer clutch the stack to your abdomen as you once did, devoid, now, of the nerves that once rattled your ability to approach him, the ever intimidating Captain Wesker. 

“I've got those reports you asked for.” You hum, extending them to his waiting grasp. 

He makes sure to look away upon taking them. It diffuses any suspicions as to why he always manages to brush his fingers against yours. 

How else is he meant to feel such a jolt zap through his very being if not by sneaking this part? 

“I appreciate you.” He says, tone firm and proper, never wavering despite the smile that threatens to cut through his cool demeanor. Ah, but he could let it. Observe and take note of how you react to such an uncommon occurrence. You looked about shell shocked the last time he let one slip. 

His glasses touch the table with a soft click. “Thank you,” he says earnestly. The coffee mug's warmth seeps into his fingers even through the handle. 

You're caught off guard, it seems. Your lips part to accept his appreciation, but you simply blink. 

Most find his gaze uncanny. Too cold, too calculating - sharp and cunning in a way that cuts into their minds and leaves behind the salt of unspoken threats. 

“I, uh…” you stammer, eyes blinking rapidly as if to return yourself to Earth. “Y-you're welcome.”

You'd left him with an invitation for lunch. He'll certainly be taking you up on that offer, but first he's got to tear his eyes away from your delivery. 

He's meant to be reading this, interpreting the details and checking for errors. All he can do, however, is trace a finger over the etch of your words, digits just barely registering the sensation of the fine-point carve left in your wake.

You are imperfect, he instantly concludes. Your letters are all wrong, slanted here and there, inconsistently joined in one instance and broken in another. Your writing changes periodically, telling him exactly when your mind had been pulled elsewhere and left you starting again with a renewed flow. 

You are nothing like him. 

His touch traverses the submission details. You've etched his name into the sheet. It hovers slightly above the line, dipping down beneath with the sharp tips of the A and W. 

His penmanship teachers would have labeled you unfit and chaotic. Your knuckles would be split with their rulers over and over again until you were naught but a simple reflection of their ideals. 

But you aren't. 

You are a contradiction to all that he is meant to find worthy. Despite this, you've begun to bleed into him. He should find you no different than his teachers would. 

Instead, as you poke your smiling face in the door, he finds you otherwise. 

You are radiant. 

AO3 LINK

[haventacluewhatimdoing]

Okay, okay, so hear me out: asexual Wilson.

He's not repulsed by sex, clearly, as seen in canon. But is he ever ACTUALLY sexually attracted to someone? From what we can tell (and what House keeps pushing), Wilson accidentally falls into relationships with people he has some form of emotional connection with. And then the sex follows, because that's what you do in a relationship, right?

Bonnie said that he was an amazing partner in bed because he always pleased the other person. Now, this could just be a continuation of Wilson's 'I would give a kidney to a stranger' level of people-pleasing, but I think it's more than that. I think that, while he doesn't MIND having sex, he mainly does it to please his partner, rather than from any attraction to them himself.

And I think that's why he has so many affairs as well. Because he sees someone, has some emotional connection with them, and goes 'well this must be that sexual attraction that everyone is talking about'. And he thinks that maybe THIS time, he will get something out of it too, because it's got to happen eventually. Doesn't it?

And then I think this all comes to a head in that episode with the asexual couple (which I am still seething about btw). He reads an article on asexuality. Then another. Then he searches for every single blog post, article, tweet, ANYTHING, on asexuality, because 'hey, isn't that just what everyone feels like though?'. He discovers the difference between aethestic, sensual and sexual attraction, and that asexual people may still have sex, and...

Oh. Oh shit. He's asexual.

[choccy-milky]

Hello! When your Seb x Clora pregnancy one-shot is complete, will it be on ao3 or wattpad? (or both?)

waiting with bated breath btw

not pressuring a finish tho, take ur time Choccy 🥰

it'll be on both ao3 and wattpad!! and omg ik its taking long IM SORRRY, its bc its gonna be way longer than i expected LMAO, i just recently finished my outline and the outline ALONE is 41k words💀and im currently at 8.3k written😩🙏 IM GLAD YOU'RE LOOKING FORWARD TO IT THO🥹💖💖i defs hope to get it finished by this month or die trying...but heres a lil sneak peek in the meantime of impatient seb who cant wait to bring baby celeste into the world LMAO🤰👼

(seb is a freak but so is clora)

[canisalbus]

hello! i've written a short little machete fic, and i wanted to share it with you as thanks for all the incredible art and generous question-answering you've been doing these last few months. i hope that if you give it a look, you enjoy it. <3 keep up all your amazing work! archiveofourown [.] org / works / 50945128

✦ A Voi ✦

[vagabond-umlaut]

gojo satoru x reader story where everything's the same---riko is killed and haibara dies and geto defects and jjk 0 happens and jjk happens, with nanami dying and gojo dying etc. etc.---and you're gojo's widow, who also used to be his best friend while in high school but then were married to him once you two became adults because 'clans'---you did not really ever fall in love with him, and satoru knew this still chose to love you everyday of your married life together---anyway... as the plot is approaching an end, you finally make peace with the death of your husband, your comrades, so on and so forth; and just when you think you finally have some peace and quiet in your life, you're vaulted back in time into your 13 y.o. self, suddenly standing face-to-face with your best friend satoru complaining to you how he's utterly sick of his very overbearing clan elders, and that he is planning on going to the tokyo branch of jujutsu high---you just received a second chance at life, at correcting all that went wrong---so what are your plans? do you think you have enough energy, enough life left in you to assume the role of the construction crew, huh? or will you just let everything happen the way it is doomed supposed to happen, and just keep yourself out the way, stopping your second life from being messed up by anyone and everyone?

[a-most-beloved-fool]

I desperately want more fics where the t'hy'la bond forms between Kirk and Spock from birth soulmate-style exclusively for the sake of making Spock, 16, feel the pain of starvation during Kirk's time on Tarsus IV.

There's maybe... two? fics I've read that used a similar concept, but there should be MORE.

Like, picture a Spock who knows that he's bonded to his t'hy'la, but has never met them. This bond is the one thing which makes him "acceptably vulcan" in the eyes of his peers. Surely he can't be a failed vulcan if he's got a t'hy'la, the rarest of all vulcan bonds, right? So, to Spock, this bond isn't only an honor, but a lifeline. His whole life, he's taken comfort from it, because it proves beyond a shadow of a doubt that there IS someone who will truly love and care for him and that he IS vulcan enough (and if he has some suspicions that the one he is bonded to isn't vulcan, well, he keeps them to himself).

And then, at some point, Spock begins feeling... oddly anxious. A little hungrier than he should be, most of the time. At first, he writes it off as simply another aspect of puberty, but then it continues. Then it gets worse. The sense of never getting quite enough to eat grows, and the anxiety builds, and eventually, Spock realizes that it's not him. His t'hy'la is the one who is hungry and afraid.

He brings it to his father, then, deeply concerned. "They are hungry," he says of his t'hy'la. "It is persistent and... palpable. I believe they are in danger."

Sarek is sympathetic, but unable to do anything save offer advice: "Be with them. If you meditate and focus on your bond, you may be able to reach them, to offer some modicum of comfort."

And so Spock does. He spends his days deep in meditation, projecting calm and comfort and gentleness into the bond, and he hopes that it is heard, though he can't help but feel that he isn't doing enough. He wishes that he could reach into their mind and find their location so he could help them, but even with the aid of T'Pau, it would be impossible.

And still, the fear and the hunger grow worse, gnawing away at his t'hy'la until Spock wonders if there is even anything left of them, on the other side of the bond.

"I fear they are dying," he confesses one night, emerged from his meditation for just long enough to eat a meal. "They are... so weak, now, and filled with such despair. I -" Spock's voice breaks. "I have not even met them. It is unfair!"

Amanda holds him, and he, for the first time since he was seven, allows it.

"Their mere presence in my mind has done so much for me, and in return, what good have I done for them? I wish..." He swallows, throat aching with suppressed grief. "I would take their place, if I could."

He wonders, almost, if it would be better for them, to die. Their pain was so intense, and their terror so strong - surely death could be nothing but release.

Still, selfishly, he wants them to live.

He wants to get a chance to know them, to love them as more than just a warm link in the back of his mind.

So, still, he meditates, and tries to press as much warmth and affection as possible through the bond, saying don't give up, I'm here, I'm with you.

And, eventually, slowly, the hunger goes away. The fear takes longer, but it, too, eases over time. It never goes away entirely, of course. Sometimes, starvation plagues his t'hy'la's memories, or disembodied terror strikes them out of nowhere. But still, they are healing, and Spock is grateful for it.

Someday, he hopes to have the chance to hold his t'hy'la in his arms, but until then, he offers his mind. Every time he meditates (and every time he feels his t'hy'la's distress) Spock presses love and warmth into the bond. He still doesn't know if he's reaching them, but he hopes - and sometimes, hope is all you need.

(Jim, for his part, thinks often of the gentle warmth and reassurance which filled his mind during his darkest days. He wonders if he could have kept going, without it. He wonders, too, where it came from, and why he can still feel it sometimes, brushing lovingly over him. He hopes that someday he'll find out, to thank them for staying with him, for granting him a light in the darkness.)

[starry-bi-sky]

Part SEVEN of "Clone Danny"

Red Robin, Danny recognizes, steps away from him as he sits up. "My name is Phantom," he signs, blinking the exhaustion out of his eyes. (From Red Robin's perspective, it looks like he has no eyes. There lacks his signature green glow.) "I'm not a gang member, just an out-of-town vigilante."

Red Robin frowns at him, an uncertain grip on the bō in his other hand. "Phantom?" He repeats, no lacking amount of suspicion in his voice. "How can I believe that?"

Right. Yeah, okay, that's fair. Danny shrugs at him, and slumps against the wall. "Google search?" He gestures, he's been out in the daytime before and he's seen the news articles about him.

Red's eyes narrow at him and Danny simply draws his knees up and faceplants into them, half-listening to Red's murmurs into his comm while also trying to get some extra-shut eye.

("Oracle, can you pull up anything on a vigilante named Phantom? The guy here is claiming to be one." Tim says.

"On it."

"Is this Phantom wearing a white mask?" Bruce asks, his voice gruff like an aftershock. "There's a vigilante who shares the same name, but he resides in Illinois."

"Is this guy from that Amity city you visited ages ago?" Says Tim, before shaking his head. "Don't answer that. Yes, he's wearing some freaky mask. I said it reminded me of Hood's helmet for a reason."

"I've got something," Oracle interrupts, "Bats' right. as usual. The Phantom of Amity Park, not much stuff of this guy but he's only been out for over a year. Apparently, his rogues' gallery consists of ghosts."

"Oh great.")

"Look tell the Batman that I'm sorry for trespassing on his turf," He signs irritably when Red Robin eventually starts talking to (re: interrogating) him again. "It's not like I want to be here."

"How did you get in Gotham anyways?" Red Robin questions, batman was on his way to help deal with the situation but Tim doubted he wouldn't get caught up on the way with dealing with petty crime. "Your turf is nearly a thousand miles away from here."

"Two words." Danny deadpans, "Teleport ghost." (Red Robin winces sympathetically.) "I'm keeping this bastard in the thermos for a month for this alone."

(Danny was ignoring the slow-choking anxiety growing in his lungs over how he was gonna get home. He never takes his phone when he goes out, the risk of breaking it was too high. He had no way of contacting anyone to get him home.)

(He swallows the growing lump in his throat, and buries the feeling in the back of his mind.)

"Thermos?"

Danny unclips his Fenton Phantom Thermos off from his belt loop and shows it to Red Robin. "My ghost-catching device," He says with one hand, tilting it carefully for Red to inspect. "I wish I could say I made it, but its a FentonWorks invention."

(He wasn't sure if it was a smart idea to say who it belonged to, but saying it wasn't his probably loosened up any tracks on him, right?)

"Do you work with these Fentons, then?" Red asks, and something dark and shadowy flickers from the corner of Danny's eye. He glances over, and sees nothing, and his hackles raise.

(Either that was Batman, or a ghost, or Danny's mind playing tricks on him. He couldn't feel his ghost sense building in his throat, so he decided it was either the latter of the former.)

Danny snorts, quiet and gruff. "No." He clips his thermos to his belt again, stifling a smile on his face. "The Fentons hate me actually, I prevent them from catching ghosts themselves. Their son gives me their tech."

He had a cover story, so he might as well stick with it, right?

Batman shows up at that moment, appearing atop the little roof where the door is, and giving Danny a heart attack when he speaks in his low, rumbly voice like thunder rolling in, "Why would they hate you for that?"

Danny shoots up to his feet with a startled yell in his throat, clutching his chest as he whirls around and looks up. He nearly runs into Red Robin, and signs a few choice swears at the Bat.

"wow you're scarier in person, asshole."

"you didn't answer my question."

"Of course I didn't, you scared me." and Danny takes a trembling step back when the Batman jumps down and lands on the roof in front of him. He's faced ghosts before, but somehow the living is always scarier.

"But, um, the reason is a bit.. complicated, I guess." He says, fingers beginning to shake as his adrenaline wears off. God is he tired. He wants to go home. "The Fentons are the local ghost hunters and local crazies. I don't know if I can call them mad scientists because they're harmless to the living."

"But they're extremely anti-ghost. I've heard from their son multiple times the very unethical things they would do to ghosts if they got their hands on one."

Danny 'talks' a little more before calling it quits, even telling Batman that he can't tell him more without putting his identity at risk.

Plus, its getting harder and harder to hide his bone-deep exhaustion and his growing fear of being stranded in the most dangerous city in America with no way home.

"I would love to tell you more, believe me I'm dying to." Danny signs, shaky sarcasm dripping from his fingers. His hands are visibly trembling and he's withholding a slowly growing panic attack. "But I would like nothing more than to figure out a way to get home."

"Do you have no one to contact?"

"Sort of. But only one of them could probably come get me and get me back to Amity by sunrise. And I have no phone."

That one person being Ellie.

=====

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 4.5 (Dani interlude) Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 7.5 (Dan Interlude) Part 8

Taglist: @the-navistar-carol @thought-u-said-dragon-queen @gin2212 @youracearocroatneighbour @luckybyrdrobyn @deeplyconfusedbear @epilepticnerd @beautifulmomenttodrawblank @sara0055 @blusunkhild @letmesayfuxk (?) @latheevening226 @tkiesai @rosedasy @meira-3919

[harbingersglory]

i know i said more dom!reader blah blah blah sorry arlecchino rotted my brain severely. tmasc bunny!arle giving me severe brain damage /pos

(he/him prns used for arle)

at a glance, the big ears and small puffball of a tail might temporarily make you think Arlecchino is far sweeter then he actually is. how could anyone who looked so cute be anything but, right?

but you know better. you serve under Lord Arlecchino - literally. tucked under his desk while he makes you slobber and choke all over his strap. you barely get to breathe with his hand fisted in your hair, keeping you right where he wants you. if you've been particularly exemplary on your little missions, he might even let you sit on his lap. though whether thats worse or not is debatable, making you cockwarm him as he works. and you'd better keep quiet, too. he's not above muzzling you or just straight up shoving his fingers into your mouth to silence you while you squirm on his lap.

maybe if you last until he's done he'll fuck you properly. bend you over his desk and pound your pretty little holes until you're unable to stand. he'll still make you clean up his strap afterwards, of course.

it's when he's in a bad mood that he really gets going. sheds the act of polite, dignified little bunny. no, he's here to break you in and use you like the little toy you are. and you'll let him, won't you? drooling all over his strap when he fucks your throat raw, drags you into the nearest room the moment he sees you to watch your eyes roll back into your head as his cock stretches you out..

he's just as much of a mess as you are when he's this pent up, though. he doesn't bother keeping up appearances when he just has some pent up stress to get out. if you could even think straight you'd notice his puffball of a tail wagging and his ears drooping as he ruts into you, panting and grunting against your ear when you cum around his strap for the tenth time. you could almost swear you heard him whimper, but you'll be in a world of punishment if you mention it the next day (he absolutely did).

[grandpa-boyfriend]

My personal headcanon is that Morty would eventually use the word "grandpa" like "daddy" for Rick.

Like early on in the relationship, he he avoids the word all together just because it feels weird.

But then something slips some day, like Rick does something an old person would do and Morty just offhandedly makes a joke like, "Haha, looks like you're getting old, Grandpa!" And he tries to laugh it off as he elbows Rick but Rick is just, like, staring at him.

And Morty gets nervous because Rick is silent but when he looks over he's surprised to find a blush and a secretly-into-it-but-acting-annoyed scowl on Rick's face and then it clicks.

So Morty starts using the word "Grandpa" against Rick.

Rick gets pissed he messed something up on an adventure?

"I'm sorry, Grandpa."

Rick pisses Morty off and he wants his words to really sting?

"I don't want to talk to you right now, Grandpa."

Morty feels like teasing Rick during dinner with the family (who don't know anything in this scenario)?

"Pass the salt, Grandpa?"

When they're fucking and Morty wants to make Rick lose his mind even more and fuck him into oblivion?

"Harder, Grandpa."

When they're just cuddling in bed and he wants to flashbang Rick with with on onslaught of overwhelming emotions?

"I love you, Grandpa."

[yinyuedijun]

so far my sakadays experience seems to be clowning on a fictional character only to then clown on myself 24h later by lusting after them. I blame my period. there is absolutely no other way I could like shin AND gaku

[milevenstancyendgame]

Revelatio Noctis

For Rayllum Month 2024, prompt: "I still love you" - reconciliation

One-shot fanfic, from Rayla's perspective (angsty, fluffy, rated T, I guess). Enjoy! :)

The rustling of her sheets and Rayla's own breathing were the only sounds that cut through the silence of midnight, as she turned around in her bed for what felt like the fifth time in a minute.

It wasn't exactly helping her to escape her restless mind. Ever since they had returned to Katolis from their mission, she had found herself being haunted by what general Amaya had told her in the great bookery.

She was surprised and slightly annoyed at this. Now that they had Aaravos' prison in their care (not exactly a peace-inducing state of things, in her opinion), shouldn't her first priority be to figure out how to free the trapped souls of her parents and Runaan?

The heat of shame crept up her face. Why wasn't she in the library right now or consulting a Xadian mage about this? Instead here she was, the great moonshadow elf warrior - tossing and turning because of a boy!

A snarl escaped her lips as she sat up. Things between her and Callum had definitely gotten better, so why was she so preoccupied with their relationship? Wasn't it obvious that they needed more time?

"That's only what you want to believe..." a little voice in her head responded.

Rayla frowned. Was this true?

Ever since general Amaya had opened her eyes about how selfish she had been in leaving Callum behind, she had realised that protecting him hadn't been the only reason for her solo adventure.

Opening up to Callum and her love for him scared her. That was the truth. And it had been easier - way too easy! - to just go back to "being strong on her own", than to stay and face that fear.

Fear of getting hurt, fear of getting abandoned, fear of herself, fear of being loved and cherished for exactly who she was!

Rayla clenched her knees and bit her teeth. It was hard admitting these things to herself, much harder than any physical fight she had ever faced. But then again that was what Runaan had focused on in her upbringing and there had been no "big feelings"-times. She was starting to think it wasn't as silly as she had thought at first. Maybe not silly at all.

Sighing, she got up and put on her cloak. There was only one way to get rid of this ruminating - she had to talk to Callum. "Share your burden", as general Amaya had called it.

Acting on a whim, she decided to climb out of the window and nimbly jump over to his, instead of taking the easy route. She felt like she wanted to turn back time and get another chance at that first meeting after two years. Only this time she wouldn't pretend like everything was okay (she cringed at the memory).

Her heartbeat echoed much louder in her ears than her knocking, but finally she heard footsteps and a slightly anxious "Who's there?"

"Callum, it's me," she replied. "Can we talk?"

"Rayla?" Callum's voice sounded even sleepier after he opened the windows and stared at her in surprise (an incredibly adorable combination, as she noticed).

"I'm sorry for waking you up," she started, before jumping into the room. "I couldn't sleep and felt like talking to you might help, but I understand if you'd rather wait until-"

Here she was interrupted by Callum. "No! I'm fine with talking now. What's the matter? Is it your coins?"

She bit her lip. Dear Callum! Always so eager to help, even when it meant discomfort or trouble for himself. Had she ever truly appreciated him? A strange war between shame and love seemed to rage in her chest.

"No, actually it's not about that." Ugh! Even he thought this should be her priority! "I came here, because..." She took a deep breath. "Because I wanted to apologise for leaving you two years ago."

The silence that followed these words was definitely louder than the one she had been annoyed with before.

"Oh," was all he said.

Rayla had to will herself to stay standing where she was. Her insides were screaming at her to run, to lighten the mood, to change the topic - anything but this!

"Yes," she continued awkwardly, feeling confirmed that he was still angry - and rightfully so! "It was wrong and selfish and stupid. I thought I was doing it to protect you from the dangers that came with my mission, told myself that you deserved rest and peace after everything we had gone through...but the truth is that I was scared of how our relationship might develop without constant threats to keep us on our toes."

Now that she had started, she didn't want to stop. Just get it over with.

"So I ran away. I literally ran away from you and my feelings. I'm so sorry, Callum!" Tears she didn't know had gathered, began to spill from her eyes, unbidden. Heavens, he must think me so weak and pathetic!

"Rayla."

To her surprise, his voice wasn't dripping with disgust, but was ladden with tenderness. She startled slightly when he cupped her cheek.

"Rayla, look at me." It wasn't an order, it was a gentle invitation. She still couldn't believe her ears and next thing she knew, her eyes were telling her nonsensical things too.

Instead of scorn, she saw nothing but love and concern shining in his green eyes (was there a candle burning in the room? Or was it the moon? She neither knew nor cared).

"Rayla, you're not weak." The fact that he had spoken her name three times in a row in this impossibly tender tone now wasn't lost on her. She felt dizzy from the delight of it.

Then the meaning of his words sank in. "But Callum - how can you say that? I hurt you so badly, and all just because I couldn't handle my own emotions! How is that not weak?"

Was she actually begging him to be angry with her? Goodness, she was more messed up than she had thought!

"You made a mistake. That's not the same as being weak. If you were weak, you wouldn't have returned. You wouldn't have figured out all these things about yourself. You wouldn't be brave and caring and just...you wouldn't be you."

Rayla shook her head, trying to make sense of what he was telling her. It was such a completely new perspective, so different from what she had grown up with!

But Callum hadn't finished yet. "If you were weak, you wouldn't be Rayla. And I wouldn't have fallen in love with you."

There was the slightest hesitation at his last words, as though he wasn't sure whether she would reciprocate his feelings.

A bell was ringing in Rayla's ears, it was just too much - here he was, treating her with understanding and praise when she deserved none, but also implying that he wasn't sure whether she still loved him? Had he been thinking that she had left because of that?

She gasped audibly at this last thought.

"Callum, I hope you don't think...or ever thought that I left because of anything you did, or because my feelings for you changed!"

He looked vulnerable now, like a timid little child, who wasn't sure what kind of answer was expected from him.

Her need to protect his feelings was stronger than her shame and fear.

"Callum, I still love you. I always did. It won't ever change."

The atmosphere of the room changed immediately. It was as though the walls themselves were heaving a sigh of relief.

He didn't respond anything, and all she knew how to do to emphasise her words, was to hold his gaze and place a hand over his on her cheek.

Then his gaze dropped to her lips and he leaned in...Rayla watched it with no wish to run or hide, those feelings seemed to be something of a long distant past.

She had always been baffled at how soft his lips were, but not having kissed in two years...she felt like her whole body was melting and all that existed were the sensations and movements of their mouths. Not to forget his scent (Books. Definitely books, with something slightly musky that reminded her of his scarf), his breath on her skin, his hand on her waist (when had that happened?)...

It all ended too soon for Rayla's taste, but she guessed they had to catch their breath.

There was something reassuring in the way they held on to each other. She wished this moment would never end, as she lightly rested her forehead against his.

"Rayla?"

There was no uncertainty or concern in his voice now, just pure love.

"Yes?"

"I'm glad you couldn't sleep tonight."

She laughed and he soon joined in. It had been so long since she had laughed like this, she hardly recognised the sound. It was a special laugh, her Callum-laugh.

"Same here," she mumbled fondly, resting her head on his chest now, with the intention to stay there.

~End~

[fullmetalscullyy]

never thought we'd ever have to go without (i)

summary: 

Their breakup was amicable. They were both going in two different directions with their lives and where Roy was going - the military and the numerous off the grid sites for weeks or sometimes months on end – he wouldn’t ask her to wait for him. She deserved to live her own life, not wait around for him and his ambitions.

When a tragedy befalls their child, Roy and Riza are left devastated. They come together to work through it while waiting for her to wake from her injuries

rated: t | words: 2948 | tags: royai, angst, au, modern au, kid au, parental royai, tragedy, injury, angst with a happy ending, separated parents

read on ao3 | read on ffnet

snippet:

Hey Dad, I'm on the plane. I know you won’t get this for a while, but I still wanted to send you a message. Hope all is going well with you. Mum was freaking out at the airport. She was worried I’d forgotten something again, but she literally emptied and repacked my bag for me so many times, so there’s no way that would happen. I think she’s scared about me going off by myself. Could you give her a call when you get out? I don’t want her to feel alone while I’m gone, and I know she’ll love hearing from you. I’ll speak to you soon. I love you.

read on ao3 | read on ffnet

[hakaiart]

f to my parasite mu dreams </3 i thought i may as well finish this right now since otherwise id never post it

[silveredsticks]

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